Tolerance Matters

I read where St. Louis Cardinals' mascot, Fredbird 'got his beak caught in the ringer.' It appears that a photo of Fredbird holding a sign reading, 'Police Lives Matter' showed up on a police website. You guessed it, some folks had a tizzy-fit.

I am amazed that folks can rarely speak these days without someone getting offended at something said. We seemingly have become an ultra-sensitive people prone to embrace nonsensical poppycock.  We are bent on 'telling' others our thoughts, feelings and opinions but we are not interested in listening to others sharing their thoughts, feelings and opinions.

If LeBron James can wear a T-shirt stating: "Black Lives Matter," then a sports' (Fredbird) mascot can hold a sign stating, "Police Lives Matter." Who in their right mind would argue against either sentiment?

Growing up in East St. Louis, Illinois (1939-1957), I discovered at an early age that the phrase 'political-correctness' is an oxymoron.

The Sandwich

Killing time before going to pick up my wife from her Tuesday morning Bible Study, I decided to make us some egg salad for sandwiches upon our return. I got to thinking about sandwiches I've fancied. During my twelve years of public school attendance, I was a brown-bag kid; I may have purchased a hot lunch a half dozen times. Never did cotton much to 'institutional' cooking. I'd best stay out of prison and avoid the nursing home.

As a kid, I could eat my weight in baloney sandwiches. My wife likes fried baloney in ketchup; I can't get into hot baloney. If you want a hot sandwich you can't beat open-faced chipped-beef sandwich. My Dad called that 'shit-on-a-shingle.' (I think that term got traction in the military). Simple bread & butter works as does the classic peanut butter & jelly sandwich. A school brown-bag favorite was Spam with mustard.

Perhaps my all time favorite homemade sandwich came on the heels of a ham n' beans supper. After those Navy beans cooled in the refrigerator, I'd make a cold bean sandwich on white bread; thought I'd died and gone to heaven. I am sure all the white bread I have eaten has quickened the heaven bound trip.

Back in those school days, I would take egg salad and tuna salad sandwiches laced with mayo to a non-air conditioned school building and place it in a metal locker at 7:30 AM. I would eat the sandwich four or five hours later...never got sick. The Department of Children and Family Services would arrest my mother 'today.'

Hello, Anyone Here

In late April, I had two procedures performed by a gastroenterologist. You guessed it; colonoscopy and endoscopy. The doctor assured me in advanced different scopes would be used. I counted three people in the procedure room: the doctor, a nurse and the anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologist was very comforting as she talked to me during the procedure. The twilight state allowed me some communication with the doctor. I recall him telling me that he identified the problem and even offered the opinion that medication would solve the issue.

I share this experience with readers because I understand the medical industry is at the threshold of having a digital computer take the place of the anesthesiologist. It appears that medical profession is mimicking the auto industry assembly line methods; you know, the folks who make ignition switches for Chevy, accelerators for Toyota and airbags for Chrysler.

The day is coming when a patient may have a heart transplant and never talk to anyone. Well, you may have to speak to somebody in the Philippines or India.

Dumb IS What Dumb Asks

With a thirty-nine year coaching career in my memory-bank, I am accustom to the second-guess. Therefore, I find it amusing when I hear reporters ask the Republican presidential candidates that dumb Iraq War question: 'Knowing what you now know, would you still invade Iraq?' Come on now! Would anybody repeat stupid or failure purposely?
 Knowing now that University of Wisconsin outfielder, Dale Hackbart could hit a fast ball, I would have thrown him a change-up at Illinois State in 1960! Knowing what I now know, I would never schedule a basketball game AT Quincy.

Here is a better question to ask of the general public: 'Knowing what you now know would you vote for the same politician?'

Remembering Sacrifice

My prayer this day is for the millions of Americans whose lives were changed forever as the result of loved ones paying the ultimate sacrifice fighting for our freedoms and for those wounded Warriors returning home facing the challenges of a new normalcy.

I was one of the lucky ones. I was a young boy of five years when my father was drafted to serve in World War II. I remember missing him. I recall my mother crying when she received letters from him during those long two years. I was lucky; my daddy returned and life was good. The heartbroken stories of other families causes me an ache deep inside.

I pray that those who had to say goodbye to their soldier will forever be heartened in spirit and lifted in the knowledge that a grateful nation will always revere that sacrifice. God bless you on this Memorial Day and may precious memories warm and comfort you every day.

What Are We Ingesting?

While waiting for the Sam's butcher to cut a 3lb piece of brisket for me, I looked over the array of meats in a nearby cooler. I was surprised by the poultry section. I saw six chicken breasts packaged together with a total weight of 7lbs. I thought, holy crap those six half breasts represents just three chickens. Adding legs, thighs and other parts it is reasonable to conclude that each chicken weighed approximately six plus pounds; that's a big bird! This means the steroid abuse issue has gone from the ball yard to the barn yard! It also suggests that these chickens are jacked with performance enhancing drugs. They will likely kick ass facing any Chicken Hawk.

Many of my East St. Louis (1945) neighbors had vegetable gardens and chickens. I never saw any of those chickens carrying around two plus pounds of breasts except one old crippled bird that grandpa E. V. named Mae West. Once in awhile I'd follow grandpa E.V. into the chicken coop to fetch eggs. I never smelled anything as nasty as those 'chicken-coops' until using the Eastern Illinois University baseball field porta-potty rentals.

I once enjoyed eating chicken...not anymore!

Elevate Principles & Lower Butts

I read where the Cannes Film Festival is caught up in a women's' fashion controversy...yep, as Tommy Tucker sang, "Put on your high heel sneakers wear your wig-hat on your head... "It appears that some actresses were turned away from the Cannes Film Festival 'Red Carpet' hoopla because they were NOT wearing high heel shoes.

Back in the ninth century, Persian Warriors (men) wore high heel shoes with purpose. The high heels allowed them to stand up in their horse's stirrups (without falling) and shoot their arrows. In the early 1900's women began wearing high heel shoes. The choice was not predicated on arrow shooting or personal comfort. Actually, the high heel shoe has created a long list of anatomical problems. So why wear them? It's a Peacock 'feather thing' folks! High heels lift the buttocks making it more prominent and creates the illusion of longer, thinner legs. Simply stated, women wear high heels for men.

I tell the women in my family that if they wish to be 'truly' emancipated they will ditch the heels and the over-sized purse. Can I get an Amen, ladies?

PS. Keep your 'wig-hats.' You'll use them when you hit 90 years old.

Causes a Double-Take

The older I get the more some things don't 'look' right and some things don't 'sound' right. Let me explain.
 Recently, while attending a high school baseball game, I noticed a player come from the field of play and go directly to his utility bag. He withdrew his cell phone to check text messages and obviously text a message himself; during the game! He then got his bat and awaited is turn to bat. Holy crap, I nearly got sick at my stomach watching this self-absorbed behavior.

I watched a little league baseball player hit a double. When he arrived at second base, he screamed at his mother, who was sitting in the stands and told her, "Get me a hot dog and soda." She had the dog & soda waiting at the dugout gate. My dad would have jerked my ass off the diamond had I done that.

The wussy sport mentality is even found in the big leagues. Today, we have 'middle relief pitchers,'  'set-up pitchers' and 'closers.' Heavens, I remember guys like Gibson, Newcombe, Feller and Koufax who believed they were to finish what they started.
Today, we hear all kinds of chatter about sport-concussions. Please! It's like smoking. If you're going to smoke you don't get to sue tobacco companies. If you fear your child is going to get hurt playing sport then don't let him play.

Texas IS A Mess

Imagine you and your family are shopping or having lunch at a popular Waco, Texas mall when a group of nearly 200 'bikers' begin to fight and then stab and shoot each other leaving nine dead, eighteen injured and half your corned beef sandwich uneaten! You should not be surprised...you ARE in Texas. This is a State, whose leaders talk succession from the union, fear invasion from the federal government and voted George W. Bush and Rick Perry into the governor's mansion.

Today, our gun-crazy country keeps promoting MORE guns for more people. Even Cordell 'Texas Ranger' Walker can't handle the Texas chaos!
Of course, we have had warnings... "Start Seeing Motorcycles."

Home Feels Different

The Metro-East is my home. More succinctly, East St. Louis is my home. Whereas I have discovered many who were raised in the river city prefer to 'claim' St. Louis as 'home.' I am a proud East St. Louis native. I left East St. Louis in the fall of 1957 to attend Illinois State University. I did return for a seven year stay in 1970, when coaching the Edwardsville high school basketball team.

Over the many years while living elsewhere, I did return frequently to my roots as I visited with parents, in-laws and friends. This past weekend, my wife and I visited the Metro-East area for a three-day stint watching our grandson's Eastern Illinois University baseball team compete with SIUE. The games were played evenings, which allowed us freedom to drive about old stomping grounds and do some reminiscing.
There is such an empty feeling and ache of loneliness as I drive by the one time homesteads of my mother and father and so many aunts and uncles who have passed away. As I pause in front of familiar homes, now occupied by strangers, I see brief visions of the past as I hear voices and laughter from yesterday moments. I drive away with an empty longing, which only can be soothed by wonderful previous memories.

See You In September

Trim and grass cutting chores behind me, I took pause on the backyard swing allowing the warm gentle breeze to cool my brow. Children's' shouts and laughter coming from the Catholic grade school less than one hundred yards behind me signaled one of those end-of-school-year play days.

I recall those yesterdays when the school year was wrapping up? I remember the boys 'getting' to help with chalk board and desk cleaning chores as the young girls helped the teacher place charts and other wall displays away to await a new fall class. Of course, only private schools can do those hands on student-volunteer duties; public school mommies and the ACLU have protected student rights thus insuring a new generation of folks who are clueless regarding service to others.

I can remember, as I helped with those school chores, wondering if my labor might remove that grade-card box that my teacher checked every grading quarter, which indicated little Melvin could 'use time to better advantage.'

On that last day of school, Miss Spayheart would toss from her third floor classroom window all the marbles, pocket knives and other confiscated trinkets to the lawn area below. It was a mad scramble by most boys to get to those goodies come dismissal bell. I did not grovel for such stuff but headed up the hill from lower Washington Park (East St. Louis) in a quest to put some distance between me and Charles L. Manners' grade school. Sandlot baseball...bubble gum cards and penny pitchin' here I COME!

Not My Fault

A nursing student is suing her university after failing a course for a second time; she claims her professor did NOT do enough to help her reduce the stress she felt and 'pass' the course. (Note: You readers must know that after writing that sentence, I paused for at least 2-minutes and kept re-reading trying to accept the premise).

I am sure many of my blog followers grow weary of my frequent bashing of 'helicoptering parents' who are raising a bunch of  'It ain't my fault' weak-ass, finger-pointing wimps. If this is not the case then tell me how in the hell did we arrive at this place?

I recall failing a freshmen English class at ISU in 1958, It never occurred to me that the unsuccessful result was someone else's fault. I have some basketball game films of coaching losses that I could enter as evidence in a lawsuit against some referees...I wonder if statutes of limitations have been reached. Of course it's too late to sue my mother ( she passed ) but I do think her gravy dishes have caused some of my health issues.

Department stores such as Walmart and Kmart have multiple checkout lanes, which are 'never' all open. I anticipate a quick shopping experience only to be deceived by few open lanes. This has caused me anxiety and stress. I really think I have a class action suit here!!

Generally Speaking

Bea Miller is a sixteen year-old pop singer. She is cute with a most pleasant personality and she has a better than average voice. The problem is, Bea's song-delivery is like most young artist. She shouts lyrics, which are difficult to decipher with the mix of loudly played drums and guitars.

I will acknowledge that most folks are predisposed to embracing the music and song-styles from their teen to early twenties. That said, I enjoy music of all types, minus the bogus Rap stuff. The obvious problem is many of today's singers can't... can't sing! They could not stand and deliver musical words pleasant to listeners' ears; they depend on loud accompanying noise to disguise voice deficiencies.

Bobby Darin, Nate 'King' Cole, Celine Dion, Tony Bennett, Patti Paige, Brenda Lee, Teresa Brewer,
Patsy Cline, Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson, The Temptations, yes and the voice of Elvis...I will say no more but invite you readers to YouTube the aforementioned artists. ENJOY!

What a Wonderful Ride !

As the final out was recorded to close out the 2015 Eastern Illinois University home baseball schedule, I found myself wide-eyed and staring at my grandson who completes his final college baseball season. As I watched him walk from the diamond, I thought of other moments in my life when closure was riveting. I remember them all too vividly.

I remember that moment walking off the pitching mound (1961) at Illinois State University. In 1980, I watched my son play his final high school basketball game at the JHS Bowl. It was incredibly tearful on three different occasions when my wife and I left our children on college campuses knowing they would return home but it would never be the same.

I recall that moment when the horn sounded and the curtain fell on my thirty-nine year basketball coaching career. I can see a granddaughter finishing a final cheer-routine at the U of I Assembly Hall. It was a bittersweet moment when another granddaughter closed out her high school volleyball career as her team finished fourth in State Finals.

Don't misunderstand, I feel most fortunate to have done 'my thing' and certainly, I feel a joyous blessing to watch the activities and sports' journeys of grandchildren. Nonetheless, I do understand life's longing for itself as curtains come down awaiting a new cast of players to assemble.

Brushing aside Paul Simon's sobering words,  "The nearer your destination the more you're slip slidin' away;' I still have some baseball and basketball games to attend in Granite City; some dance recitals and baseball games to watch in Barrington and well, who knows what-else. My great-granddaughter, not yet a year old, appears to have the moves of a gymnast. Gotta keep on keepin on!

Brady No Different than Rose

The late Supreme Court Justice and All America football player, Byron 'Wizzard' White once said, "When I wake, I first read the sports page to discover man's successes the previous twelve-hours then I read the front page to see his failures." Unfortunately, that opinion no longer flies in today's social climate. The sport world is as dirty and corrupt as is the corporate and government arenas. Our moral compass is broken while our lust and greed grows.

Major League Baseball records are tarnished with illegal use of performance enhancing drugs. National Football League officials find themselves on a merry-go- round trying to repair the image of players physically abusing women, killing people and breaking rules (cheating) to gain a winning edge. Coaches offer financial 'bounty' money for opponents going to the sidelines injured. Quarterbacks bribe attendants to deflate balls.

Considering the aforementioned, I ask the following question: If Pete Rose has a lifetime ban from baseball for betting, if Alex Rodriguez is banned from MLB for a year and if New Orleans 'Saints' Coach Sean Peyton is banned from the NFL for 'injury-bounty' then pray-tell what is the punishment Tom 'Deflated Balls' Brady?

If you believe the end justifies the means then you cannot refute the same reasoning used by those who orchestrated the most horrific acts against mankind.

Your Greatest Gift

Last year, Americans' spent $163.00 per mom for a Mother's Day gift compared to $113.00 for dad on Father's Day. I'll explain why the difference later. Another interesting tidbit regarding Mother's Day expenditures is the very fact that Mother's Day is the single greatest restaurant cash flow in America. Surely, if my mother was still living, I would be headed her way for a special restaurant experience and reminiscing.

Okay, here's the deal on the extra money spent on Mom's over that spent on Dad's celebrating their respective days. The $50.00 more spent on Mom is for the nine month 'baggage carrying cost.'

Make no mistake, man's greatest gift is his Mother...God bless our Mothers. If you are like me and cannot share this Mother's Day with your Mom, may you be richly blessed with precious memories.

Happy Trails

Grandchildren are a gift that keeps 'giving.' My wife and I praise God daily for our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We continue to attend sporting events, dance recitals, school activities and a plethora of family gatherings. Never a 'dull' moment !!

Can you imagine how spoiled and self-indulged a four year old child might be who is the baby of seven siblings? Try to imagine why this beautiful little girl would not think that she is the centerpiece of the universe. Recently when her mother placed her in a 'time out' chair, the child inquired, "Hey Mom, can we talk about this ?" On another time out moment she sat down on the chair and quickly said, "Mommy, have I told you how pretty you are?" This cute little con artist needs constant monitoring. Just the other day this four year old spinning top accessed Xfinity On Demand as she frequently does to 'hit' Disney to watch a movie. Well, on this occasion she ordered the Mayweather-Pacquino pay-for-view fight for $100.00.

While my daughter was sharing this story with me the telephone was beeping indicating that I had a call waiting. It was my son who was driving home from Milwaukee after a Cardinals-Brewers baseball game. My son wanted my sixteen year old grandson to get some interstate driving experiencing thus the boy was behind the wheel. It seems that the hazard-lights button was inadvertently touched and the dual-blinking lights began flashing. The young driver, not knowing what those lights indicated, began to freak out as he shouted to his Dad, "Holy crap, my blinker-lights  got me turning BOTH ways... the guy behind me is really going to be mad!"

It's Broken; We Need to fix It. ,,

Last week a conversation with my son took an interesting turn when we were discussing the current social events and he asked, "As a 76-year old man, who was a 1950's teenager, what goes through your mind watching the unrest in our nation today?" With little thought, my first response was........
"I feel sad for young people."

Upon deeper thought, I would be a fool to make some blanket statement that 'life' sixty-years ago trumps today in all aspects; simply not true. Off the top of my head,  I'll take today's health care knowledge and I'll embrace interstate driving over yesteryear. With regards to race relations, I believe the Blacks today are just finding a voice to bring to the light of day what was going on back in the day.

In my humble opinion, the greatest injustice done to Blacks (today) is the horrible education systems in the inner city. Whites move to the 'burbs,' city industries fold and Blacks are left behind to deal with fewer job opportunities, decaying properties and declining educational institutions. Add those factors to the single-parenting challenge found in many Black homes and you have young people who have no hope, no coping abilities and no skills. These young people usually make stupid choices. One is having children out of wedlock while many other bad choices lead to incarceration. Their social skills are terrible, their logic is faulted and their (faultless) ignorance is apparent.

The 'only' hope for America is a total commitment to our schools, especially the inner city schools.

Oh, there is one thing back-in-the-day (1950's) that beats the hell out of today...family anchors of loyalty, support and love was much greater back then !! Let me give one example: After Grandpa died, sooner rather than later Grandma moved in with one of her children's' family...never heard of those independent or assisted living homes.

Vanished

We have lived in Decatur, Illinois for seventeen years. Our home is on the North side near Interstate 72 and the Hickory Point Mall; we like our location, which offers a poletha of eateries and various department stores. Our backyard is adjacent to the playground area of Our Lady of Lordes Catholic grade school. I see children frequently playing in that area supervised by lay teachers and parents. I have never seen a Nun or Brother on the grounds. I don't think there are many Nuns and teaching Brothers in the Catholic Church as once was the case.

There are other things that I don't see on the horizon any longer. I don't see alleys between the back of neighborhood homes these days. I don't hear kids playing those street games like hide 'n seek. Nobody plays those family backyard games, I.e. Horseshoes, badminton and / or croquet. I must go to the store for fresh milk. I remember when it was delivered to our home daily. The non-leaf burning law robs me of the complete ambience of fall. Gee, I cannot recall the last time a pushcart vendor came down my street 'hawking' hot tamales.

I've got a 'hanering' for some old fashioned homemade ice cream; wonder if I can find another neighborhood fella to take turns on the crank?

"Just the facts, ma'ma."

States Attorney Marilyn Mosby filed charges against six Baltimore, Maryland police officers who were involved in the arrest and subsequent suspicious death of Freddie Gray. I suppose we will never know exactly 'what' caused Mr. Gray to die but I believe it is reasonable to conclude that the police officers involved are guilty of many actions and / or lack of action, which should put them behind bars.

As I watched States Attorney Mosby verbalized the timeline of events that fateful day, I began to fear that Attorney Mosby was moving closely towards embracing that dangerous bravado when an individual becomes a tad bit filled with self-importance.. Sure enough, Mosby dropped a turd and then stepped in it! She editorialized herself into 'Wonder Woman!' Attorney Mosby digressed from simple facts-of- law, which she and her investigative team believed were violated and crossed the line as she addressed protesters and demonstrators saying, (and I paraphrase) 'I heard your voices, No Justice, No Peace' ...I'm sorry but such a comment does not sound like law-facts but instead political pandering.
If all States Attorneys' start making indictment decisions on things other the concrete law and act on crowd voices, we are all in harms way. I recall reading about a crowd (long ago) that had their shouts acted upon and....Barabbas went free and Christ was crucified.

I'm sure States Attorney Mosby is a bright young lady and I'm equally sure she talks too much! As Sergeant Joe Friday often said, "Just the facts, ma'ma."

They Want a Check Not a Job

I surmise that my Dad's generation was 'King-of-Oneliner' directives. Here are just a few of Dad's obligation reminders: " Yours is not to reason why, yours is but to do or die." "Don't let your mouth overload your ass." "If a job's worth doing it's worth doing well."

As a consumer, I seem to note many folks who have jobs but don't particularly do them well. One incident caught my attention recently as I waited in a Walmart checkout line. There was an obvious workers' shift change for the cashiers. As the replacement chasier placed her ID code number into the register the chasier leaving the post immediately walked a couple feet away from the work station when a passing customer asked her for directions to a product. The employee matter-of-factly said, "Sorry, I can't help you, I'm on break."...as she began texting on her cell phone.

Not a isolated circumstance but a growing consumer irritation is the gasoline pump that does not dispense a receipt. This happens to me frequently. The no show receipt is followed by the crawling note that I can 'go the the cashier to fetch my receipt.' What the hell, why not; I pumped my own gas. I always ask the cashier: "Why no receipt dispensed at pump?" I get the following: "Oh, we're having problems with the printer." I say bull-butter. Take it to the bank that lazy workers don't do their jobs and fill the printer with paper rolls.