...but you can't take East St. Louis out of the guy!

The current political atmosphere reassures me that several years ago, I made the correct decision NOT to run. Let me elaborate. It was the late 1970's when I gave a speech to the Collinsville Chamber of Commerce. (At the time, I was coaching Edwardsville high school but living in Collinsville). A few weeks later, a group of Collinsville business men invited me to breakfast and inquired about my interest to 'run' for a political office. They assured me that they could 'muster' the financial support necessary. I told them that I would give it serious thought; I did and I returned a telephone call to the lead Chamber officer and expressed regrets but explained, "I am not your guy."

Those gents were well dressed conservative Republicans and I knew once they came to know this blue-jean wearing liberal it would be the 'oil & water' story. Actually, I was wise never to seek any political office under any political-party's banner. Regardless of college degrees and religious backgrounds, I am a product of Washington Park (East St. Louis) and its unrefined streets. That said, I am certain should a political opponent state a falsehood about me, I would call him out as 'a lying son-of-bitch.' -That reaction usually loses the Christian vote.

There is hope in my truthful acknowledgment. I realize that I have never mastered the ability to pretend, take a punch and turn the other cheek. This is not good. I trust God is not finished with me and hopefully, I will turn out better in quick time!

My Wish For You

To all those reading this blog:

May all who gather at your Thanksgiving table feel the comfort and warmth of family love and be blessed by God's wondrous love.

I Am Forever Grateful

I have been asked many times, "What was the biggest break in your professional career?" The answer is two-part. I was completing my first year in teaching/coaching (spring 1963) at Assumption, Illinois. I was the head baseball coach and assisted in basketball and football. I wished for that head basketball job. The Illinois State University  placement listings indicated that such a job was 'open' in Mason City, Illinois. I applied for the Mason City position and after the interview, I was told by the superintendent that I was the Mason City school boards second choice; really? I guess second is good for something. One year later, I was surprised to 'see' the Mason City position of head basketball, baseball and athletic director was open again. I telephoned that same superintendent and he said, "Mel, tell me you still want the position and I will drive to your Assumption home with the contract. Superintendent, Ralph Helton did bring that contract to Assumption the next day and without question, the next three years did more for anchoring my coaching career than anything else.

I delighted in finding the Mason City athlete proud, dedicated, responsive and respectful. Those kids wanted to please parents, teachers and coaches. The success of my three Mason City basketball teams reinforced my belief that hard work, role acceptance and an intense preparation approach were keys to winning. Mason City players gave a young Mel Roustio the best coaching blueprint possible.

Part two of the answer to the 'biggest break' question would spotlight the Illinois High School Association. The IHSA offered numerous opportunities. I served the IHSA on the boys' basketball advisory board, the athletic directors' advisory board, the Legislative Commission and I was appointed as Illinois' National Liaison for the American Sport Education Program, a coaching certification process. The IHSA also allowed me to serve two years  as television analyst for the large schools' basketball State Finals. The result of my IHSA involvement led to a most lucrative nationwide speaking experience and prompted me to pen a couple of coaching education books.

It is fair to say, Mason City basketball / baseball players and the Illinois High School Associations' leaders prepared me to serve thousands of schools, athletes and parents. I am grateful and humbled in the blessing.

Will The Real Believers Step Forward

On a personal note, I would not suggest abortion to a family member; I believe it is wrong. On a United States Constitutional note, I believe women should have the right to choose.

On a personal note, I think baseball players who cheat using drugs should face a lifetime ban from the game, i.e., Pete Rose for betting on baseball games.  On a United States Constitutional note, I believe baseball club owners and MLB players' unions have the contractual agreement rights to impose incremental banishment of games for violators instead of lifetime bans..

What I have difficulty understanding is the pompous anti-abortion groups that are all for protecting the unborn (fetus) and then oppose food stamp programs, early childhood school programs, head start and free lunch programs. It appears these folks are Christ-like in fighting to protect the unborn life but have less Christ-like feelings for struggling lives.

The baseball players appear to suffer from a similar hypocrisy as the pro-lifers. Those players who get upset with performance enhancing drug users returning to the game will oppose a lifetime ban on those players and/or club owners' collusion not to 'sign' previous PED users.

These groups need to decide what they believe, how deeply they believe it and then get off the fence.

Excuse Me, I Define This Season

These past two months retail stores have been balancing shelf-space between Halloween costumes, Thanksgiving decorations and Christmas gift-ideas. I suspect the 'real' Christmas gift purchasing push begins 'Black Friday,' the day after we Americans overindulge in food and football. It's a good thing that we spend energies and money shopping because we would otherwise sit on our fat asses and count the days until the two really big American celebrations: News Year's Eve and the Super Bowl.

Actually, I refer to this time of year as 'The Season of The Boogieman.' This 'Boogieman' is the illusive, mythical and evil guy who wishes people 'Happy Holidays' instead of Merry Christmas because he is on a secular mission of 'taking' Christ out of Christmas. Some of the Boogeyman's family members spend their time fighting public nativity depictions while others protest against religious Carole's sung in public schools. It's a propaganda season...just watch Bill O'Rielly and Sean Hannity, two of our finest examples of tolerance and Christian teachings. These two fine men speak only the truth and will help all weak thinking folks to 'see the light.'

Sad Events and Fading Trust

I am sure that those of a certain age remember clearly where they where and what they were doing on this day fifty-years ago when the news of President John F. Kennedy's assassination entered their brain. I was a twenty-four year old teacher/coach in Assumption, Illinois. It was shortly after one o'clock when the distinct clicking noise of the school's intercom system came resonating through the gymnasium speakers. The voice of high school principal, R.E. Dagner simply and rather bluntly said, "President Kennedy has been shot.!" WOW! I remember the words too vividly.

Looking back on that horrible tragedy, I would point to 'it' as the beginning of my continuing growing distrust and loss of respect in my government. I will always believe that the 'whole truth and nothing but the truth' regarding JFK's killing was never forthcoming from our government officials. In the 1970's the daily television coverage of the Watergate Hearings was another monumental moment of elected officials misgivings adding to my lack of confidence in our elected government officials.  More recently, we count thousands of dead American soldiers and innocent Iraqi civilians because of government deceit.

President Clinton's infidelity was not the first by an American President, but his bold lying was troubling for a nation's people. Recently, an elected politician was arrested in a drug bust where he was caught by federal agents purchasing cocaine. That same elected official voted a few months back for food-stamp recipients to be 'drug-tested.' talk about hypocrisy; go figure...but first, on THIS day, remember a son, husband, father and President who was murdered on our American soil fifty-years ago.

I am NOT alone in this waning trust of government...yesterday, I went to the Post Office (Mound Road, Decatur) to mail my Teachers' Retirement Insurance coverage (new) election papers. These documents must be post-marked before December 13, 2013. The postal clerk asked, "I assume you wish to send this 'certified mail as hundreds of your fellow teachers are sending this document certified!" My reply, "Yes indeed; let's all cover our ass and protect ourselves from Big Brother!"

Thanks for Asking

Recently, one of the grandkids asked me, "If you could live your life over would you do anything differently?" My answer was, absolutely. However, you could count on one hand and not use all fingers those 'do different things.'

I was  both blessed and 'lucky.' I grew up in the incredible era of the '40's & '50's and I was raised by that infamous 'village' (of people); wonderful parents and a supportive extended family and neighbors. I played my sports with a degree of success, received a free college education playing sport and I pursued a lifelong coaching career. I married my high school sweetheart with whom I enjoy a terrific history, three grown children /spouses, fifteen grandchildren and one great-grandson. If that ain't blessed and lucky then, "grits ain't groceries, eggs ain't poultry and Mona Lisa was a man," said Little Milton.

Thousands of folks were interested enough in what I had to say and purchased my books; many invited me to speak at conventions and audiences across the nation. I had a blast serving the Illinois High School Association television network as an analyst and especially embraced twenty-one years behind the radio microphone.

I would only wish to 'do over' those times when I caused others hurt. I hope for their forgiveness. I do know that a Savior died for those misgivings. I have resolve and contentment knowing that I did answer my 'calling' to serve the least of HIS people.

If there is a 'do over' opportunity, I'm good to go...if no such plan...I am good to GO!

I wish you few 'woulda, shoulda , coulda moments.'

Some Moments Stay Forever

I plan to write them another note this next month because I wish for them to know that I 'still' remember the impact made by their daughter upon my wife and me. Let me explain.

Several years ago, I spoke at Pittsburg, Kansas high school's athletic department. Before addressing the coaching staff and hundreds of athletes and parents, my wife and I walked through the hall ways of the school. We viewed a memorialized display case of a senior girl who was killed in an auto accident returning from her college boyfriend's basketball game. A photo of the willowy blond beauty defies description. Her academic and athletic accomplishments suggested endless potential. My wife and I was deeply touched by the young girl's story and the two million dollar gift from her parents to the school's athletic department to honor their daughter's brief journey...I wrote the parents the following note:

Dr. and Mrs. Mallatt:

I wish not for this letter to be presumptuous in any manner. May I introduce myself? My name is Mel Roustio and I recently presented a program to the Pittsburg high school athletic department and toured the school's facilities, which compares favorably to any in the country. I am fortunate to travel the nation and share with many high schools; the Pittsburg athletic venue is second to none and your financial gift to that school in the name of your daughter, Megan makes it possible. My wife, Gerry and I spent several minutes reading each and every accomplishment and tribute to your daughter. Megan's many achievements as a student-athlete underscores the obvious; she was a remarkable talent. On our four hundred miles return trip to Decatur, Illinois, we spent much time talking about your daughter and the incredible impact of her young and abbreviated life. I must tell you that we both experienced a spiritual feeling.

I do not pretend to know the magnitude of your loss nor could I adequately speak to it. I would feel certain that through the years thousands of Pittsburg high school athletes will be touched by Megan's spirit and the beckoning from her, 'reach for the stars as did I.'

My wife and I thank you for sharing your beautiful daughter with two strangers; we are better because of our 'Megan moment' and your wonderful gift...yes, indeed, I must jot The Mallatt's a note this Christmas.

Score One For the Doctor

A few weeks ago, I had my annual physical examination. I always schedule that physical the first appointment...thus I minimize time spent sitting in the doctor's office. I filled out that lengthy family-medical-history questionnaire; they now have seventeen copies telling whomever reads that thing that I had a tonsillectomy at age five. I did note a new section on the chart. It asked several questions, i.e., 'In the last year has anyone physically harmed me, threatened to harm me, insulted me or talked down to me.' In the space provided, I answered with a question: "Are you shitting me?" Then I realized that many people do abuse or insult love ones...I then answered the question; "I think not and don't anticipate it."

The nurse escorted me to the examination room took blood pressure, temp and asked a few questions. She then told me, "The Doctor will be in shortly."  He never comes in shortly, so I turned off the lights and stretched out on the examination table and closed my eyes. Perhaps seven minutes passed and the door opened and I heard the startled Doc say, "Whoa, it's dark in here." When he turned the lights on, I asked him, "If you had walked in and found me dead on this table would you charge my wife for this office call?" I asked the question as a joke; the good Doctor took it seriously and began explaining how it would be his legal right to charge. I countered saying, "Holy crap Doc, this is NOT a legal question but a moral-compassionate question." He then won the tit-for-tat exchange saying, "I would not charge your wife for an office call if I discovered you dead upon entering the examination room; I like your wife and wish to keep her as a patient."

Rainy-Day Memories Always Make Me Happy

A television commercial ran frequently a week or so back, which made a pitch to purchase a particular 'camera.' The motivating advertisement words suggested that my 'memories' would be made 'better' if I bought this camera. I never before gave much thought to the connection of a camera's quality to enhance memories.

Yesterday morning, I took a cup of coffee to the sun room porch so that I might watch and hear the falling rain. As I starred at the heavenly water drops knock the few remaining leaves to the ground; memories (without a camera) came flooding over my mind.  I recall how at age nine, I would sit on a screened back porch in the home on Hallows and 55th street, East St. Louis and watch that same falling rain. My mother, Lucille was busy preparing supper and I was positioned on the porch-floor with my 'homemade' baseball spinner-game and two teams of baseball trading cards. I was totally immersed in a contest between the Stan Musial led Cardinals and Duke Snider's Brooklyn Dodgers. Somehow the St. Louis Cardinals always won that game; I suppose my head-angle looking at the spinner point is biased.

Other camera-less memories came to mind. I remember at age six playing those pretend 'cowboy' games and never worrying about washing my hands before eating that noon-time bologna sandwich. I cannot recall having many sore-throats or colds back then compared to these days when I am constantly washing hands and using those sanitize lotions.

When my Dad came in from work at Monsanto Chemical Company, we could smell the distinct chemical odors from his work clothing he hung in the utility room. Those smells soon gave way to the wonderful roast, laced with carrots, potatoes and gravy, which Mom placed on the table. I would always save a little gravy so I could 'mop-it-up' with a piece of bread. Interesting how life is an endless series of attempts to make things come out even, like the gravy & bread.

Funny fact...I don't have one camera-photo of those yesterday- moments and yet those days are crystal clear in my memory. I wish you all wonderful rainy-day memories; perhaps you'd rather ask a family member to purchase a Christmas 'camera.'

'Can't Beat City Hall'

 Illinois residence and likely most of the nation is aware that Illinois' State Government is lacking! Seemingly, the one consistent Land of Lincoln government statistic appears to be our propensity to elect Governors who eventually go to prison.

Let me profile a recent paper trial folly, which underscores inefficiency and hypocrisy. Currently, the State Workers and Teachers' retirees are facing a 'must' change choice of Health Insurance coverage. We have three so-called choices. Of course, the options all carry more questions than answers and the comparison ritual is a good imitation of the famous Bud Abbott and Lou Costello comedy routine "Who's On First?"

I will not bore you readers with detailed particulars. However, I do wish to explain one scenario. Some six or so weeks ago, we  teacher retirees received a notification 'mandate' from Central Management Service (Illinois) detailing how we must complete a Dependent Eligibility Verification Audit. This means that I had to send three forms to an out-of-state clearing house agency confirming that my wife of fifty-three years should be covered by my insurance. I had to send a joint-banking account statement, a property tax document and a federal tax transcript. These credentials have to be in the hands of the clearing house before December 6, 2013 or I could forever lose coverage on my wife.

Shortly after this mandate, I received notification from CMS that a 'packet' would soon be mailed to me with all information about the three health insurance companies from which I must select ONE for coverage. I was told I would need to make my choice and post mark mail that choice by December 13, 2013 or I would be dropped from the teacher's insurance program and NEVER be allowed to participate again. The letter also indicated that a schedule of informational meetings would be enclosed in the 'sign-up packet.'

I got that packet two days ago. Three of the scheduled meetings were already held before the packet was mailed...I was just wondering if there is any penalty for Central Management Services; sure appears that they 'missed' a deadline.

Call It AS It Is

The following remarks were shared with my sports' playing grandkids' parents. I gave thought to the possibility that many readers of this blog are likely parents of children who engage sports. Therefore, you are welcome to read the following and subsequently process the content and your place 'within' as YOU view it. ..Que Serra Serra .

Please digest the following American societal youth-sport reality: Our society embraces sports with unbridled passion. Regional and local community fanatics (fans) experience a range of charged emotions predicated on the success or failure of their favorite professional, college, high school and kid's sport teams. These fans are your next door neighbor, mailman, salesperson and tax paying Christians kneeling next to you at Church. Each embrace living the 'good life' part of which is living vicariously through these teams and most certainly living vicariously through their own child's sport play. Some parents will easily find fault with referees, other children and coaches. Many times the parents express their dismay, frustration and anger. Many local school boards across America have members who could give two-hoots-in-Hell about education but have a pissed off vendetta about a perceived mistreatment of an offspring.

The fan is ecstatic in victory as they wave about their #1 sponge-finger and chant aloud. Conversely the fan is depressed in defeat and  inconsolable when their child is not the centerpiece of the team.

I encouraged my children and I would do the same with the reader to understand the misguided fan/parent but ever be wary of his presence.

Simply stated: Society is full of assholes, many of whom attend sporting events more regularly than Church. This does not mean that you will not find assholes in the pews; you do. The big difference is Church assholes are usually more subtle than the sport fan asshole. However, we hold hope in our faith-belief that religion will lead us to a place of repentance and forgiveness.

While God works on this greater problem, do not add to the problem by renting one moment of your mind/thoughts to the assholes.

Adjust & Adapt; Ain't the Same

I once had a little league baseball coach tell me that I needed to make an adjustment to hit the outside pitch to right field. I've made a lot of adjustments over a lifetime and now I find myself making some adaptation in these senior years. Adaptation is a more intriguing word than adjustment. Well. it is to me. We have all seen that three-legged dog make adaptations; also, we've noticed humans adapting with various physical challenges.

My wife told me recently that my posture is getting poorer. I suppose three back surgeries and hip issues cause a subliminal 'gate-adaptation'.' On occasion, my children have asked their mother 'why does Dad's right hand sometimes 'shake?' I asked the doctor on one of my checkups about the 'hand-tremor' and he said, "Don't worry, you are not having a stroke and you do not have any nerve disease; you simply have a senile tremor." Holy crap, I thought, explained that way (senile), I won't look for that malady to improve unless I start getting younger.

I must conscientiously attempt to adjust to my tremor-'shakes' and hope that some adaptation will kick in soon; I am tired of putting soup up-my-nose.

I hesitate to mention the following but the other day, I was standing at the men's urinal at Wal Mart; yep, you guessed it. I happened to look down only to notice that I was missing the 'target' and coming close to the fella's shoe next to me. Thank goodness, he was reading a newspaper on the wall.  My wife tells me that I could avoid this problem if I'd only make the 'adjustment' and sit down on the potty stool. I hesitate to make that adjustment; next thing you know, I'll be 'giving ' up car keys.

I'm going to stop here; it's beginning to rain and I like to walk in the rain. Actually, I like dancing in the rain.

Win a Little; Lose a Little

A few Sundays ago, I was perched in my usual 'back-row' seat in church when I gave notice to the many folks seated in front of me. It was apparent that there was a greater number of 'blue-grey-haired' older gals than 'grey-bald-headed' old boys. I understand that men and women born the same year will realize an approximate 7-year longer life-expectancy for the 'chicks' over the goats; still the disproportionate number of women to men in church was surprising.

Without any scientific data to support my theory, I toss it out to you nonetheless. People from my generation grew up 'thinking' differently than the generations in my rear view mirror. Let me explain. We 1950's fellas opened doors for the ladies and they allowed us to do so. Many of my contemporary couples found their prime work and child raising years with wives at home and men at work.  After we retired and the kids were gone, the gals found a pleasant life in 'Red Hats,' bridge clubs, volunteer work and shopping. Contrary, we gents still have that radar-clock ticking inside, which tells us to get out of bed at 6 A.M. and DO SOME THING. That means clean the garage, tend to the yard or 'paint' some thing; anything! Simply put, the ladies know HOW to kick back and relax whereas we old fella-farts still measure our worth by building something or killing and skinning something. We empty our tanks quicker than the ladies...result?... more old gals in church than old geezers. Of, course there is another element to factor into the church-equation...men tend to be heathens and stay away from church.

I do think this will change with my grandchildren's generation. More and more women MUST work to make family-financial ends meet! Don't get me wrong, I have eight (8) granddaughters; I am all for women's right to work, equal pay etc. However, along with 'rights,' I have also noticed some gals now curse like men, smoke like men, dress and tattoo their bodies like the fellas; they'll likely forget how to enjoy retirement.
     
 Emancipation always carries a price.

Let's Fall In Love

I don't know about those 'fix-me-up' computer dating services but suffice to state, 40 million Americans use these dating services. It would appear to me that what was once 'happen chance' romance has now shifted to a more matter-of-fact yet calculated clinical experience.

These computer probability conclusions leave me cold and baffled. I cannot understand why anyone needs the costly service of statistical crunching-data to find a 'soul-mate.' Personally, I would  doubt some 'outside' emotionless-data to render my interests, attractions and/or desires. I remember once when a computer was fed all kinds of statistical data about boxers Muhammad Ali and Joe Louis, two great heavy weight prize fighters from different eras, to determine who would win if they fought. If that is not totally stupid, I don't know what is!

I have no way of proving the following half-ass theory but I choose to toss it out there nonetheless. My children and grand children's generations have grown up in a visual-entertainment culture that asks 'nothing of the imagination. Our movies and television presentations leave nothing to imagine; we see horrific explosions, gaping gunshot wounds and mostly naked bodies showing much physical gyrations during love making scenes. There seems to be less required of the individual to conjure up possibilities. More and more people wish for instant pills to address maladies, food service 'out' and a click of the 'mouse' to deliver pronto information. Why not a 'click' to bring us our mate for a lifetime; well perhaps at least a few years before we click 'Divorced and Single Dating Service.'

An examination of my courtship offers the unusual by today's standards. I began hanging around Gerry Bischof and 'sitting' with her at the Friday night local theater when she was thirteen and I a mature older boy of 14. We dated for seven years, through the high school scene and married between my junior and senior years at Illinois State University. It is fair to say that we both felt a strong (early) physical attraction to each other however, I kept falling 'in love' with the girl that made me feel special and made me laugh. Fifty-three married years later, I still feel special and the extent to which she causes me to laugh is unbelievable. Our 'history' is our lifeline.
I am convinced that a computer would not necessarily match us and I think how sad the incredible loss.

Pure Hearts are Unfiltered

Our son, Steve has taught some twenty five or so years and has seen various grade-level assignments; most have been at the high school level. This year is the first experience teaching physical education to youngsters K-through-4; he is enjoying the change and having both belly laughs and shocking moments. Shall we agree that this age group is pure, honest, candid and unfiltered.

His students never gave much thought to their PE teacher's name, they feel perfectly happy calling out..."Hey, Jim Teacher!" Well, one young lad just had to have more information. Steve often has his class sing songs during calisthenics. On 'Jim Teacher's August 29th birthday, Steve told the students they were to sing 'Happy Birthday' to him. About the moment the first words rang out, the boy hollered loudly, "Hey, Jim Teacher, you gotta  real name to put in this song?"

A fourth grade girl recently walked up her PE teacher and said matter-of-fact, "Mr. Jim Teacher, this is a lot of crap!" Steve quickly responded, "What is your problem, you shouldn't talk like that?" The little girl said, "Hey, Jim Teacher, I'm getting sick and tired of tying these kids shoes; I liked it better when I didn't know how to tie shoes!" (There is some hidden message in that comment regarding talents and responsibility-expectations).

One first grade boy thought physical education classes outside should offer the opportunity to relieve oneself at a nearby bush, 'like me and my Dad do at home.' "You ain't never whized outside with your Dad, Jim Teacher," asked the boy.

A couple days ago, Steve's PE class was doing exercises and responding to alphabet letters by shouting out a word using the letters. For example: H...happy, Halloween, hurt, etc. The letter 'P' was tossed out for play and the following ensued: Popcorn, Peanuts and suddenly an inappropriate word was shouted out...this 'P' word was not followed by cat / willow or foot; however, the little boy insisted it was a good word because his father uses the word a lot.

As the late entertainer, Art Linkletter said, "Kids say the darndest things!"

Shame On 'Smart' Leaders

My, my this college education is expensive. I have one grandson that has a $42,000.00 annual college cost and three other grandchildren running a close cost race behind. I recall a few years ago when a granddaughter graduated from the U of I with a four-year total cost of $130,000.00.  I remember how stressed she was when applying to the U of I even though, she had a 4.0 GPA and a 31 ACT score. She feared her grades and scores were NOT going to be good enough for admission. I coached several Division I basketball players who scored below 18 on the ACT and had perhaps a 'C-' average; oh, they were required to take a pre-entry 'Bridge Course Program.' I suppose the thinking is, a marginal academic high school student can be 'ready' for higher learning institutions if the all-America player engages a six-weeks summer academic-cram-course.

Each spring hundreds of thousands of high school students fall short of admission to prestigious universities due to grades and/or test scores while thousands of athletes, with sub-par grades and scores, get a fully paid education at those same institutions; all because of athletic skills.  If the university sport team advances deep into post-season playoffs, the university makes millions off gate receipts, conference shares and television revenue monies. The irony of this transparent and irreverent arrangement should be disturbing to any organization and leader with the smallest of moral compasses. It is a bogus scam and swindle of the non-athletic collegian.

Many of these 'super' athletes never finish school but sign lucrative professional contracts. Other athletes fall short of the pro-payday and fail to graduate. The smart (non-athletic student) gets no financial help but pays the bulk of college overhead with their tuition and fees. I can guarantee you that the Duke University professor in research medicine is making much less than some head coaches and the  chairpersons at Kansas University fall short of many coaches monthly check figures.

I understand the constitutional rights of a college athlete 'leaving' school early for that 'big' money deal. I do believe there should be in place the constitutional rights of Jack & Jill (average student) who bears the greater financial burden. I believe that an NCAA rule  should be initiated requiring any athlete who signs a professional contract early, must be responsible for the 'financial-return' of all scholarship monies spent before leaving college. These 'returned' monies could help reduce the tuition cost for the kid who never dances in the end zone or butchers the Kings English in a post-game nationally televised interview.

Perhaps the return of educational money by the early departed student-athlete turned pro could establish a annual raffle drawing for all students facing heavy loan pay backs. We could call this the Professional Intercollegiate Sport Service Education Document. In the future, we would reference the program by the acronym,  'Pissed'.

No Longer a Home

My wife and I made a quick-trip to Glen Carbon/Edwardsville this Sunday past. The trip purpose was two-fold, we attended a Memorial Service for fifty-eight former residence of the Meridian Village senior living home who died this past year;  my mother Lou was one. We arrived well in advance of the Chapel Service, which was scheduled at 2:45 P.M.; the additional time permitted Gerry and I to join my brother, Tom and his wife Vicky for lunch at Bella Milano's. The visit with my brother and his wife is always good.

The memorial service at the senior living facility marked the second time for me entering that building since my mother died. It remains somewhat difficult to return to the place that my mother called 'home' for nine years before her death. Mother  Lou lived in Meridian's 'independent' quarters for the first seven years before declining health necessitated re-location in the 'assisted living' wing. The care was excellent those nine years.

The hallways hold many reminders of the numerous visits with mother. I would state without reservation that for the larger part, my mother was very strong and independent during the nineteen years she was required to live after my father's death. I know that her ninety-three year old body was ready to give up the struggles and painful maladies, which had invaded her. I believe she is at rest and peace and will have that 'life-eternal' of which she often spoke. My mind 'knows' it was time for her departure from this world my heart still yearns to hear her voice and feel the softness of her hands as she would frequently reach out and touch my face upon our goodbyes....'precious memories how they linger, how they ever flood my soul; in the stillness of the midnight precious memories unfold.'

I encourage everyone to reach out and make those connections with family. Those opportunities are NOT endless. Windows can close quickly and unexpectedly. Do all that you may so to never be facing that ugly feeling...woulda-coulda-shoulda.

I Will Not Fight It !

The 'fall back time change' has my sleep cycle messed up. Normally, I'm up at 5:30 A.M. each morning, you guessed, I am now up at 4:30 A.M. My wife yells at me as I leave the bedroom, "Don't be calling the kids or grandchildren for at least three hours!" I thus wonder around emptying de-humidifiers, waste cans, reading newspapers and writing these blogs.

Most of my blog writing is nonsense and the personal notes that I send to my adult children and grandkids is a lot of gobbledygook preaching, warnings and less than subtle messages about 'how' they should live; I suppose you could sum up my persona as not so much the fun-loving father/grandfather but, instead, the 'old pain-in-the-ass' relative you'd like to disown.

What is it about old farts, like me, who believe that they have something profound to impart to love ones and should they fail to do that they believe they have failed? Perhaps the most significant life lesson taught is to accept Christ as Lord and Savior, unless, of course you are Jewish, Muslim or Buddhist.  I have my mother, Lou and maternal grandmother, Mammy to thank for this life's 'anchor.'

I understand that my children and grandchildren will face adversities and I suppose I believe that I need to give them some heads up preview and suggestions for overcoming. My personal firsthand observation about 'overcoming' came through an up close relationship with a father , who with a mere eighth grade education built a multi-million dollar enterprise in St. Louis and Dallas, Texas. Another individual from a distance showed me the true depth of resiliency; picking your 'knocked-down ass' up off the floor and soaring to greater heights. His name was Ron Stein. Stein was an all-state football, baseball and basketball player (1956) from O'Fallon high school (Illinois). Ron received a full athletic scholarship from the University of Illinois. The summer before he was to enter U of I, Stein was stricken with crippling Polio. Ron Stein played 'wheelchair' basketball at the University of Illinois and in 1960 he was a member of the  USA Wheelchair Paraplegics Olympic Championship team. Yep, I've seen some folks overcome.

I also figured out the 'empowerment' factor. You know this one; believing that you CAN. This lesson was taught by many in my life. My family, teachers and coaches all kept pushing me with the same encouraging 'cheer,' you CAN help others, you can make a difference and you owe your talents (whatever they be) to other.

I reflect on themes I continue to preach and it is a simple message: Figure out who you are? (Talents/Passions) and what is your purpose? (Embrace a mission). Pay it all forward.

This Congress May Like The Idea

My fellow Americans, (I always wanted to use that phrase), we can all agree that 'it has been a great run.' Starting with the Pilgrims, continuing with the westward expansion, the industrial revolution, space flight and high technology; we did ourselves proud. However, we need to face facts, things are going down the 'turlet.' Let's make a deal; let's sell the country.  Here me out........................................

Many years ago, Arab nations got all pissed off over those Bob Hope & Bing Crosby 'road movies;' Road to Baghdad, etc, which made jokes about 'camel jockeys.' Many of those Arab adults today were the movie-goers back then...they're mad! Many are now terrorists doing that bombing thing...they're mad!  The Mexicans never got over losing that war to America and now the descendants of Santa Ana are sneaking across our borders and screwing up our economy, schools and health care systems. (Note: We will acknowledge that our lawns 'look better' these days). The Chinese are now poisoning our pets with tainted 'beef jerky-treats.' Finally, the Middle Eastern countries never stop 'dicking' with fuel pump prices. It's time to sell. !

Mentally, revisit with me some recent events: Citigroup made a deal that garnered that institution billions of dollars and get relief from the mortgage crisis while many States have sold their highway toll-systems to Arab countries. Come to think of it, when was the last time you did business at a '7-11 Store' and someone greeted you in fluent English?? I rest my case; It's time to sell.

Stop and ask yourself a few simple questions: What do most Americans wish for in their lives? They wish to live away from people who 'look' different from them, have cheap gas, good barbecue sauce and plenty of cold beer. Therefore, we sell out. Sell all financial buildings, and school houses. We are going broke as a nation and our education system is 'leaving' children behind. If we sold our nation to the terrorists what motivation would they have to bomb that which they now own?

We should sell the country and request the same deal we gave the American Native Indians: Give us some free land, throw in some chickens and a milk cow, unlimited supply of Baby Rays Sauce, unlimited gasoline and an endless supply of beer-kegs for tailgate parties  It would be nice to have a television set for Monday Night Football games or Camel Races; whatever becomes the national sport!