Busted Predictions for New Year

Recently, I posted a blog listing my 2018 New Year's Resolutions, which I have every intention to break. I feel compelled to make some New Year predictions and why not?
Lots of people make predictions all the time and many annual prognosticators give their crystal ball preview at a New Year's start. Here goes mine:

 1.  I predict once again the world will NOT end.
 2.  President Trump's recent tax cuts for corporations will not cause a 'trickle down.' The only trickle  
      down from Trump will be caused by an enlarged prostate.
 3.  The Cubs will win the National League Central Division but not the Pennant. Cards finish 3rd.
 4.  Justin Beiber will get arrested.
 5.  Donald Trump will not be President Labor Day.
 6.  There will be another documentary about JonBenet Ramsey's Murder Case.
 7.  America's stupidity and gullibility rate will grow faster than the National Debt.
 8.  Wolf Blitzer will surpass Larry King's record for most hours ever logged in front of a television
       camera.
 9.  The GOP will once again (while in power) not attempt to repeal Roe v. Wade.
10.  In mid-November, Donald Trump will announce his return to television as a Late Show host;
       this time on Russian television.

Ps. Likely none of the above will come to pass and things will stay much the same as in 2017...Trump will NOT show his taxes but will continue to show his ass while the richer get richer and the poor get poorer and I refuse to buy a Polo shirt at Von Maur for $133.00.
(Touch)Don't Hold Your Breath Prediction

Old Weakness Comes on Strong!

This past Thursday, I left Decatur at 7:40AM and traveled 2-hours & 20-minutes to the Columbia Holiday Tournament in Columbia, Illinois. My son, Steve's Dupo team was playing at 10:00AM. Steve had decided last year to leave high school coaching after 31-years and assist at Lewis & Clark JC. A good friend, who is an administrator at Dupo high school called Steve to ask if Steve could step into Dupo's head basketball position one week before the start of the season when their coach suddenly resigned. Dupo is young, inexperienced...that's right, they are 0-12. Recalling thirty-seven seasons at the helm, myself, I have been on mountain tops and in deep valleys. I showed up last Thursday to support a group struggling in a valley.

As I left the gymnasium, I was stopped by an old timer from the Metro-East area. He had followed my teams back in the day and simply wanted to say hello; well, he did have a question: "Coach Roustio, he began, "do you miss coaching?" I gave my pat answer, which always seems to suffice: "I don't miss those school bus rides in cold weather and those Holiday practices."

During my return trip home, I re-visited that question: "Do you miss coaching?" First, let me say, I've been off that coaching bench since 2001, which is sixteen seasons. I shall be honest...I miss having a team. I miss the challenge of bringing teen boys together from different persuasions, cultures and ethic experiences and meshing their passions and skills into a team commitment. I miss the coaching fraternity. I miss preparation-practices. I miss the challenge of  helping parents and fans to understand perspectives.

True...I don't miss bus rides in this bitter cold and another thing I don't miss is waking up at 2:30 AM after playing and immediately trying to recall, 'did we win or lose?' I hated that; especially if we had lost!

So...there you have it...I miss coaching much more than I wish to admit...and I surely wish I could do it all over again. You know what?... I need to stay away from those gymnasiums.
(Touch)Love of the Game

Laws Don't Change Attitudes

In early American history (1600's) only white male landowners twenty-one years old were allowed to vote. Finally, in 1856 landless males twenty-one years old got the right to vote...but they still must be White males. Of course, we all remember our high school American history class that explained about women gaining voting rights in 1920 and after the Passage of the Civil Rights Bill of 1964, the 1965 voter protection law was passed... A person of color could now vote in his/her own nation...holy crap, shall we all stand a recite the Pledge of Allegiance...especially that part>"and justice for all?"

Don't kid yourself, we still have a helluva lot of efforts to suppress the non-white voters. I choose not to go into all of the schemes but only a bigot refuses to 'see' these efforts of voter suppression. And then there's the alleged mall predator, Roy Moore who refused to concede in defeat the Alabama
U. S. Senate seat to the winner by 20,000 votes, Doug Jones. Instead, Moore claims massive voter fraud, which means 'those dadgumit black folks cheated us white folks again.'

I do declare, it appears 'America Ain't Never Gunna Be Great Again!'
(Touch)Make America Great Again

I Am Resolved!

It's that time! End of the year time. We are reminded of the year past as newspapers, magazines and television reports give us images in photo and stories of what transpired the last year. That has us reflecting on the year we are leaving while anticipating life in a coming New Year. Naturally, many people feel compelled to 'make resolutions' for this New calendar beginning. I always make resolutions for a new year and I break each one. That said, you may ask, 'If you intend to break every new year's resolution then why make them?' Answer: I love to make lists.

My 2018 New Year's Resolutions, which I will break:

 1.  Stop watching 'fake news' on CNN and begin watching 'Fair & Balanced' news on Fox News.
 2.  Stop yelling and cussing St. Louis Cardinals' manager, Mike Matheny during Cardinals'
      televised games.
 3.  Stop yelling and cussing St. Louis Cardinals broadcasters during Cardinals televised games.
 4.  Start watching Hallmark Movie Channel when I find myself yelling and cussing at St. Louis
      Cardinals' manager and broadcasters.
 5.  When watching pro basketball pretend there are no rules and when watching high school
       basketball pretend the officials watch too much televised pro basketball.
  6.  I plan to find a group of retired men and have coffee with them every morning.
  7.  Fight urges to get another puppy.
  8.  Stop paying $270.00 per year for special lawn care applications.
  9.  Stop taking breakfast to my wife in bed each morning.
 10. Place this 2018 New Year's Resolution list on my refrigerator door and reference each morning.
(Touch)In The New Year I Am Resolved

Fun-Blessings

Whew! What a Christmas Day family gathering! About 1:30PM, twenty-seven folks bowed their heads, acknowledged Baby Jesus as the 'first' and greatest Christmas gift and then attacked Italian beef, rigatoni, ham, salad, Italian bread, dinner rolls, pumpkin pie, red velvet cake, pecan pie and an endless assortment of decorated 'show' cookies as if they had not eaten since last Christmas Day.

 My wife and I passed out monetary gifts because one size fits all and there's no need to 'save' a receipt. The kids out did themselves 'giving' to the old folks...the grand finale Gift was a 55-inch VIZIO television that does everything but take out my trash. Afterward it was game time and the participation ran the gamut from intense to falling down hilarious...mostly the latter.

I suppose it's the same at all homes at the Holidays, lots of picture-taking. Our daughters and granddaughters never see a moment that's not worthy of a snap-shot photo preservation and it seems like my wife and I are required to be in every photo opt. I know, I know what they're thinking; they're thinking...'you NEVER KNOW.' The highlight photo was when Grandson, Caleb Howell's fiancee, Morgan handed our great granddaughter, Juniper a gift box, which held a special invitation for the three year old to be their flower girl at their October 27, 2018 wedding. Juniper was very excited but not as excited as  Juniper's mother, granddaughter Amanda and her Nana, Gerry. A few minutes later another picture  taking request was made and as the group was told by the picture-taker, "Okay, Smile.." ...angelic, curly blonde-headed, Juniper added,  "Everybody say, Hot farts!" Hey, what ever makes you laugh.

Finally, with the departure of each family an empty-anxious feeling begins to build in the pit of my stomach. That wondering doubt laced with fear that 'things' might not be the same next year. Those thoughts find fertile ground in the weakness of flesh and a misconception that I deserve that which I have and enjoy. As I enter the house to face a reality of clean up, I quickly come to my senses.  I AM BLESSED and I shall trust God for my tomorrow.
(Touch)The Most Wonderful TimeWonderful,Time

Merry Christmas...'Friends.'

I suppose it could be said about Facebook that which is said about many things at man's disposal: 'It can be an instrument for goodness or a instrument for evil.'

I was blessed with many friends long before the Facebook phenomenon gripped our lives. Today, my IPad tells me that I have hundreds of friends with whom I'm connected each time I open Facebook.
At a given moment, I learn of someones birthday and my chance to wish them 'returns.' I see photos of a recent wedding or somebodies new puppy. I'm entertained by a proud parent's video clip of their child's performance. Another FB friend reaches out asking prayer for a sick love one. I learn of the heartache, which enters lives because of loss. My Facebook inter-action permits me to debate or argue differing views on an endless list of issues. I often times feel the envelope being pushed when debates become heated or frustration comes into our discourse.

Oh, indeed Facebook can be a tool for promoting goodness or a tool for turning friends into enemies.

And then there are some, as I, foolish enough to write a daily blog, which inevitably invites comments, which may come in the form of kudos or angry reactions in the form of disagreement or verbal attack.

In any event, at day's end you are my friends and in this season, which is set aside by Christians worldwide to commemorate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ, it is in His name that I express my love and good wishes for all my friends with whom I share this journey. Merry Christmas.
(Touch)Why can't it remain...all through the year?

Reality Check makes My Head Swim

I never heard a Medical Doctor's confirmation but I do think that my maternal grandmother 'Mammy' Bennett suffered from low blood pressure. Once in awhile, I'd hear her say, "Oh my, I best sit a spell, my head's taken to swimming." I suspect she was likely feeling dizzy or faint. Well, I take meds for high blood pressure and recently my head's 'taken' to swimming.

This coming Saturday, I was planning to attend my dear friend's Ken Bracey's visitation in Morton, Illinois. Ken died December 4th and will be buried in his beloved home town, Mason City, Illinois. Well, those plans had to be scrapped after news came two days ago that my East St. Louis high school teammate in both basketball and baseball died suddenly of a heart condition. Some East St. Louis classmates will assemble Saturday in Collinsville, Illinois for John 'Yonko' Basarich's visitation at the same time as Bracey's...makes my 'head swim!'

My faithful blog readers will recall that I shared with them back in mid-October the stark realization that three of my dearest high school buddies had passed within two years and another was trapped in that dark hole called Alzheimer's. On the heels of that bitter-sweet 60th high school Class Reunion, I now must decide, to which part of the State shall I travel to bid farewell to a dear friend.

And surely, when I tell my kids that I get out of bed each morning between 4:30 & 5::30, they say in a surprised tone, "Why do you get up so early?"...REALLY?
(Touch)
Slip Slidin' Away

So Many Wonderful Memories

Today is the fifth anniversary of Lucille Bennett-Roustio's passing. She was a life-time sweetheart to one man, a mother to three boys, a Mamaw to her eight grandchildren, twenty-six great-grandchildren and three great-great-grandkids. On December 21, 2012, Mother Lucille was 93-years old at her death; Yes, indeed she lived a wonderfully rich, full and blessed life.

As this Christmas Season engulfs my family with joyous sharing and expressions of love, I pause to recall those times of days gone by, which anchor today's family love. Last night, I found late evening alone-time that permitted me to close my eyes and allow visions of my past to filter through my mind. I felt my spirit lifted and my emotions warmed as a colleague of family faces, voices and laughter shook my memory. What a wonderful experience. I hope this time of year will find each of you feeling the joyous sharing of yesterday intermingling with the with the celebratory joy and merriment of today.

Perhaps many of you also miss love ones. I pray that sweet/precious memories warm your hearts.
(Touch)My Mother's Eyes

Many Changes but Faith Unshaken

As I frequently do on a Tuesday noon hour when picking up my wife from her Bible Study at Grace United Methodist Church, I arrived early and slipped into the sanctuary for personal meditation time.
I engage in personal prayer and meditation a couple of times each day but those moments always have more serenity, deeper thoughts and an emotional tranquility when sitting in a church pew rather than my family room. It must be a learned reaction or my Lord hangs around His house more than my house.

Last Tuesday after personal prayer time, I opened my eyes and allowed them to wonder about the Christmas decorations, which beautifully adorn the sanctuary. I also began to notice how much different this magnificently designed Grace United Methodist Church of Decatur is as opposed to that Grace Methodist (minus the 'united') Church of Washington Park East St. Louis back in the mid-1950's. The Decatur church is four times the size of that Washington Park church and the differences don't  stop there. The church of yesteryear did not have and organ, piano or bell choir nor a paid music director. Nope. The old church had a volunteer pianist on a Sunday morning banging out old hymns on a simple upright. Back in the day six or seven folks made up a civilian-dressed choir, which often sang off key with bravado.

Most folks from old Grace walked a few feet from their Sunday School class right into a familiar worship service pew. Those old-time Preachers never missed a chance to extend an alter call at the conclusion of a 'hell-fire and damnation sermon,' which profiled warnings about the wages of sin.
One of my children once suggested that I had perhaps grown up in a 'church' (religion) that promoted fear rather than Love. I never felt that at all back then. I knew God LOVED me because He sent His Son to be crucified for my sins while at the same time I had a free will choice to accept the gift of life forever or turn away from God's Love and suffer Hell. I don't know about all parents but I believe most parents are constantly sending messages to their children that if they 'do Right and make good choices' things will turn out better than should they make bad choices.

I noticed just as I ended my prayer last Tuesday afternoon in that church pew my prayer petitions and praise have not changed in the last sixty-years. Seems to me my Faith anchors my religion regardless   of the participation building.
(Touch)The Chapel

Really?

The Trump Administration recently released a list of five (5) words and two (2) phrases that the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention are prohibited from using henceforth. Let's start with the obvious and most understood bannings, which are the two phrases. Phrase One: evidence-based, Phrase Two: science-based. Now, you're an idiot if you don't comprehend this reasoning. Trump has a profound aversion to anything and everything that smells of EVIDENCE or SCIENCE.

The five words not allowed printed or uttered by CDC folks are: fetus, transgender, vulnerable, entitlement and diversity. Can you guess the one word above that most Trump supporters cannot use in a sentence?

I just knew that Trump's two favorite words, 'fake' and 'pu#*y' would be spared the guillotine.

Rumor has it that the administration will wait until February 2018, which is 'Library Lovers Month' to announce what books are banned and when and where public book burnings will be held.
Stayed tuned to Don's twitters.

Okay students: Write on a piece of paper 100 times the definition of 'censorship.'
(Touch)The Bird is a Word

Blessed By Grace

Son in-law, Tim and daughter Pam chauffeured and escorted the old folks through three Metro-East cemeteries yesterday as the four of us plus grandchildren, Caleb and Erica paid respects to 18-family members and one special neighborhood boy.

The natural events of life when one reaches their seventh decade is visiting more and more love ones in eternal resting places. This bi-annual honoring junket has always been somewhat of a 'bitter-sweet' exercise, however I must say it's becoming a bit more bitter.

A few months ago, I attended that 60th High School Class Reunion only to discover several dear classmates have passed. Now, yesterday's trip reminds me that the sand is dropping faster and faster through the hourglass.

Okay, that all said...here's the celebratory news, which causes me to shout aloud...'Praise God!'
Praise God for a lifetime of incredible and undeserving blessings. I was born to loving parents and a nurturing extended family all of whom believed and spoke of the loving and saving grace of Jesus Christ. They showed the way to faith and salvation. I lived my adolescent and teen years in perhaps two of this nation's greatest decades, the 1940's and 1950's. I was introduced to sports and honed enough skills to gain immeasurable positive traits and garner a college education. I was blessed with enough talents to serve my family and others at a career that I never looked upon as a 'job.' I was fortunate to meet the girl I would marry when she was but thirteen and I was fourteen...wow! What a history! Three adult children who married people who could actually love me and then allow me the chance to show love to 15- grandkids and two great-grandkids.

I had no say in my appointed time of entry into this world and I have no say in the journey's end...but oh my, how much more can one man expect? And that's the reason I always stop to whisper a prayer at  that 15-year neighborhood boy's grave site. I suppose he's the reason it's always been easy to donate to St. Jude.

Yesterday, I paused at each of those eighteen eternal resting places and embraced a reflective flashback moment in time; a shared laugh, event or story. My message to my living love ones? The day you pause to pay respects to this man...look at one another and agree, Here in this place lies one of the most blessed and fortunate people to ever walk this earth.
(Touch)Amazing

Counting My Blessings

Since I can remember, I have counted blessings and thanked God. My maternal grandmother (Mammy Bennett) was always talkin' Jesus and living exemplifying Jesus' teachings her entire life. If you spent much time in her presence as I did, you too would be tuned to God's blessings and goodness.

At the Holiday Seasons, I find unending family blessings. Let me explain: My father expected his three sons, spouses and grandkids to be at his home Christmas Eve and buddy boy we all made it come hell, high water, blizzards or anything else! I also like seeing the family gang at those times but my wife and I have never, I repeat NEVER put our kids on a guilt trip to be home. If they say otherwise they lack perceptive powers and insight. If you can make it great, if not fine. That said, I'm hearing that 26 out of a possible 27, will be at our home Christmas...I feel blessed. But listen up...

 We (family) are now entering that era when our adult children must begin positioning to assume their own base where their adult kids (and significant others) accommodate their immediate families at the Holidays. That means, we oldsters will have one of two choices. Consider getting our butts into auto and go to one of the kid's homes for Holidays or stay on the couch and hope for a drive-by visit. This scenario is part of life's longing for itself...I get it. Oh, and just as I did not second-guess their choice, I shall expect them to extend me the same...'whatever floats your boat' choice.

Let me share some numbers: My wife and I count 27 family members. Lo' and behold,  17 people showed Thanksgiving plus one engaged-intended and one guest, which equaled 19. The Christmas gathering number I hear floating is that 26...plus six dogs. That's  a full house. Now the best news about his whole picture is this: Whereas our children and their spouses love and respect the old folks, there's another equally significant reason for the gathering. That motivation comes from the obvious...and that is our adult children, grandkids and great grandkids truly enjoy and love each    other. It is incredibly amazing to watch their interactions...can't wait.

Folks...I cannot make a better case for underscoring my endless blessings.
(Touch)
Counting My Blessings

They are Eating Their Own

Yesterday, Republican Representative, Peter King from New York referenced former White House adviser, Steve Bannon to that of "a disheveled drunk who wandered onto the stage" I get it. Many GOP politicians have become weary of defending the indefensible. Bannon IS indefensible and Trump just cannot get out of HIS own way by involving himself in daily drama. Indefensible!

It's expected to hear criticism from one political party towards another political party but never before has one Party, in this instance the GOP dodging inter-party slings and arrows. Perhaps that tone was established during the GOP's primary campaign when the candidate, Donald Trump unleashed incredible verbal attacks on other Republicans running against him. Trump used demeaning nicknames, made fun of fellow Republicans physical looks and verbally insulted their family members. Unprecedented? Pretty damn close!

Things changed very little as Trump moved into the Oval Office as he continued verbal attacks on his 'own,' i.e., Paul Ryan, John McCain and Mitch McConnell. Upping the hate rhetoric ante was Trump's close associate and trusted advisor, Steve Bannon, a White Nationalist who constantly attacks Republicans and Democrats with equal fervor. Trump often takes Bannon's advise and did so backing alleged child predator, Roy Moore in the recent Alabama U.S Senate race, which was won by Democrat Doug Jones. Bad game plan!

I would suggest to Bannon's friends (should he have a few) to stage an intervention. Make the man get a haircut, shave and a good hot bath. Then feed him a steady diet of 'happy pills' and perhaps he'll not look so disheveled.
(Touch)A Disheveled Drunk?


PS. I see where the FBI had to fire one of its agents because he called Trump an "idiot." Hell, Trump's Own Secretary of State called the President a "moron" and he's still on the job. Go figure.

Part of My History Left Yesterday

Recently retired but longtime Major League Baseball scout, Ken Bracey died yesterday at age 80. Bracey spent 42-years scouting for the San Diego 'Padres' and Los Angeles 'Dodgers.' I received the news from retired Springfield State Journal-Register sports' writer and good friend, Larry Harnly.

I first met Ken Bracey in 1964, my first year as basketball coach at Mason City high school, which was Bracey's hometown. It was early fall when our own dear hometown friends,  Dick and Fran Pawlow dropped Dick's Giants Minor League Class AA Springfield, Massachusetts teammate, Ken Bracey off in his beloved Mason City after their season completed. Why not stop by Mel and Gerry's to introduce Bracey to his old high school's new round ball coach? They did and that first encounter signaled one message> This is going to be a fun relationship! And oh, how it was!

That evening the two pro baseball players brought some beer and as we sat on the front porch visiting suddenly, Bracey began tossing empty beer cans in the new Coach's front yard laughing and suggesting the locals need to know their coach enjoys a beer. Of course, I quickly retrieved the cans for more discreet disposal.

Eventually, Pawlow and Bracey gave up the pro baseball pursuits and settled onto civilian life. Pawlow became baseball coach at St Joesph's College in Rensselaer, IN. and later spent thirty years as Western Illinois University's baseball mentor. Bracey struggled with finding a niche in factory work but soon caught a wonderful break when the San Diego Padres gave him that initial scouting job...a job that he was made to embrace; and embrace he did for 42-years. He loved his passion: Baseball.

Kenny married his hometown sweetheart and settled into life with his loving wife, Judy, two daughters and his scouting. Tragedy would strike the Bracey household when Judy was diagnosed and quickly succumb to cancer. Years passed but finally, Kenny was fortunate to meet a perfect match. Second wife, Nancy could go toe-to-to with Kenny's bantering humor. They were great fun with whom to spend an evening.

In baseball's off-season, Bracey refereed high school basketball games. At that time, I was coaching at Jacksonville high school and always hired Bracey and his partner, Bob Ware to work the Crimsons' Classic at Thanksgiving. Those times rendered great memories and some funny Bracey stories, many which I included in my book, 'Game Laughter.'

I shall miss Ken Bracey, terribly. I will miss his incredible story telling and just how tickled he became when delivering any story's punchline. Rest In Peace my good friend and thanks...oh my,

Thanks for the Memories.

(Touch)Baseball

My World

Hot Damn it was good to get outside yesterday with the temp reaching 52 degrees. Now that's a phrase Grandpa E. V. Bennett often used back in the day, "Hot Damn!" I can hear him now, "Hot Damn that's good Christmas custard but be careful not to drink too much, it'll make you sick." Sure, Grandpa. Anyway, I love to get outside and walk three miles a day and then spend time on the backyard bench in the morning and the swing in the afternoon. Like old Satchel Paige once said, "Some times I sits and think and some times I just sits."

Here's the deal: I don't like winter! I don't like snow! I hate ice and cold winds! I'm 78-years old and for much of my first 62-winter years, I was either playing basketball or coaching basketball. Consequently, I was either at practice or on a yellow-jacket bus going to or coming from a game. I didn't have time to sit. I used to look out the basketball-bus windows this time of year and see people rushing across parking lots going in and out of stores and restaurants. I wondered just how that life would be...now I know...I'd rather be on a bus than shopping. When one cannot sit outside but is forced to sit inside one ends up watching too much television and then one really go bonkers!

My wife said I should write another book or start an intense scripture study program. I'm afraid if I became too versed in scripture I might be more inclined to judge people; I seem to detect that  tendency. In less than a month, The Good Lord willing, my wife and I will head to a warmer climate for a couple months, by golly, I believe I'll exercise a good deal, sit in the sunshine and ponder the  ways of people and give some serious consideration to writing and reading. Perhaps I'll scratch out some book-writing notes. What's that? What about the scripture reading? Okay, I'll come clean.  I'm in a Bible study class the entire time and I'm always reading random scriptures. You see, I keep searching for that Biblical verse telling us to 'Judge one another until Jesus Christ returns.' I Haven't found it yet but 'hot damn' it must be in there somewhere because Christians do that a whole lot better than loving one another as He loved us.
(Touch)
It's My World

Gifts And Love Awaits

My wife (Gerry) and I have been married 57-years and we dated some seven years before marrying. Simple math suggests sixty-four Christmas trees we've viewed together and my, my, my have the children Christmas toys changed over those years. Just last evening, we saw several Christmas toy commercials on television and agreed that today's kids seem to need electrical and mechanical engineering backgrounds to truly enjoy their gifts.

I recall those yesteryears when son, Steve was a boy of 4-5-or-6. If he Boy could hammer on it, make loud noises with it or build a block house it was the perfect Christmas toy. The girls Dawn and Pam at those ages already seemed interested in nurturing. They had those dress up dolls, buggys and homemaking kitchen sets with impossible assembling instructions and a zillion pieces.

Those were great years to be parents. Of course, we had to keep an eye on Steve. At age five he and a neighborhood friend, Bruce quietly followed the Mason City mailman on his route one afternoon and took everybody's delivered mail from their box and brought it to our front porch. That was a hellava way to meet neighbors., especially the old-timers looking for Social Security checks. Yes, indeed, we had to watch that boy very carefully. He once brought a cat home, which was drenched from rain and put the feline in our front end-loading dryer...you know the old fashioned one with the window. Thank God Gerry was nearby the utility room and heard the dryer kick on. She ran to the room to see a bewildered-looking cat's face tumbling by the dryer's door-window.

The girls, Dawn and Pam at age five plus and about three respectively had matching little doll-suitcases. Their mother had told them they had to do something, which didn't sit well with  them so they told their mother they were "running away from home." Not to be bluffed, Gerry said okay and told the girls that they should put some things in their suitcases before leaving. The girls walked out the front door with little suitcases in hand. Mom and dad kept a vigil as the girls walked down Yale street in Edwardsville. They arrived at the end of the block and we noticed them turn around and begin returning to the house. When they walked in the front door, Dawn announced in a despondent tone, "We CAN'T run away from home because we're not allowed to cross the street!"

Eventually, all three did 'leave home' but the good news is...they return with wonderful families.
(Touch)Coming Back Home

One Terrific Coach but A Greater Human Being

Joe Newton was one of those people, after whom you talked with, made you feel emotionally and spiritually lifted; you just simply felt better about life and your journey therein. Newton died yesterday at age 88. He was the long time cross country coach at York high school in Elmhurst, Illinois. Joe won an unprecedented 29-IHSA State Championship Titles; 28 in Boys cross country and one in track and field.

I first met Joe in 1970. I had moved from the Washington, Illinois basketball and cross country positions at that Peoria area high school to assume the same charge at Edwardsville high school in Southwestern, Illinois. I had a limited background in cross country and that first year at Edwardsville I inherited a transfer runner from York who as a junior won the prestigious Peoria Invitational. I knew to do this kid right and build a decent team around him, I needed a crash course in the training intricacies of distance running. Who better to engage than Coach Joe Newton. I felt a bit nervous when his phone was ringing but as soon as he answered and I said, "Coach Newton, this is Mel Roustio. I'm the basketb " and in mid-sentence, Newton interrupted saying, "I know of you and I know about your background and Edwardsville has hit the jackpot getting you." That was Joe's motivational style. His incredible ability to lift you and then teach you...and he indeed helped this writer become not only a better cross country coach but a better person.

Thanks, Joe and God Bless your sincere loving soul.
(Touch)
Coach Joe

Heroic Anonymity lives through Humbleness

I think we'd agree that heroic anonymity is a rather rare act; an uncommon behavior. Most folks who do good wish to be recognized for 'doing good' even though their motivation may not be recognition.  That said, heroic anonymity requires humbleness if the act of heroism is to remain unknown.

I suppose my first introduction to this phenomenon of anonymity heroism came in 1949 when I was but ten years old. I seldom missed a Saturday morning showing of the television series, 'The Lone Ranger.' For those readers who may not recall the shows' format and ending, let me profile. The Lone Ranger's face was 'masked' to hide his identity. The show had a typical and predictable story line, which found the Lone Ranger and his sidekick,Tonto coming to the rescue of someone compromised by the villain (s). At the episode's end and the day saved by our hero, The Lone Ranger disappeared as someeone asked, "Who was that masked man?" Another would answer, "Why that's the Lone Ranger." And...on that cue the Ranger's voice would be heard in the distance, "Hi Yo Silver, Away." Wow! A ten year kid thought, The Lone Ranger didn't even get a thank you...Nothing! Ah, but the subliminal message was seared into a young brain...DO GOOD FOR THE SAKE AND NEED OF GOOD.

Today, we seem to be less humble. We seem to want more than the 'feeling' of doing good for the sake of good. Oh, I hear of some anonymity acts of kindness and heroism but more often I note the insatiable appetite for recognition. The athlete who shouts and contorts his body upon skill accomplishment. We seem to have an endless parade of 'Awards Programs' and 'Hall-of-Fame Events.
Our current President, unlike any President before is constantly praising himself suggesting his accomplishments surpass any previous President.

I'm not certain if things are better or worse. I'm not sure if there is a decline or not in heroic anonymity. Nope. I just hear my father's voice upon the heels of any of my athletic accomplishments when he'd say, " Boy, you do know that others did what you just did and some did more...keep lookin' for ways to get better."
(Touch)Humble Hero

Carrying Concerns into a New Year

I offer this blog communication of random thoughts, which perhaps are of little or no concern to others, therefore shall we agree upfront these thoughts represent my brain-clutter, which needs purging?  I will likely turn the calendar to 2018 and still be troubled with the following concerns:

Concerns........
 1.  How can the same group of people who adamantly oppose abortion show little care and concern for a child five years 'out of the womb' by opposing government subsides for free lunch programs? One in five American children go to bed hungry every night. Shameful! Terribly shameful.

 2.  Bill O'Rielly, Matt Lauer, Roger Ailes, John Conyers and apparently Al Franken have either been fired or resigned from respective employment positions yet, President Trump receives a pass on his admitted propensity to assault women. Why?

 3.  Why do churches continue to enjoy tax exempt status in an age when church leaders are so politically active? I continue to struggle with some churches' concerns regarding gay rights rather than people's salvation and a relationship with God.

 4.  I always knew there was underlying angry-bigoted-prejudice in our Nation but I never imagined its extensiveness until Presidential campaigner, Donald Trump began holding political rallies. The  gloves are off as hate speech runs rampant and relationships are destroyed. Very sad.

5.  If I become inclined to play the markets in the New Year, I'm wondering if  my best bet is investing in gun manufacturing and pharmaceuticals.

 6.  I don't anticipate more people coming to understand the basic foundation and premise of a 'free nation.' Nevertheless for starters we cannot have prayer in public schools or The Ten Commandments in the public square. The reasoning is simple and solid. Our constitution guarantees equally the rights of all Religions  and even the right to be an atheist. Therefore the issue of which religious prayer becomes impossible to resolve. The lame argument that our nation was founded on Judea-Christian principles shows ignorance of our freedoms guaranteed by the laws of the country.

 7.  Finally, I wonder if this escalating animosity between America's brothers and sisters will change when the nation's population reaches that tipping point rendering more 'brown people than white people?'

Whoa Nellie! Or should I say Whoa Mel! I just need nought of something...I'll turn seventy-nine years old in 2018. I should be so blessed and fortunate to have the aforementioned concerns ONLY!
 (Touch)
Will 2018 Show Our Better Angels?

Favorite Christmas Song

A couple of days ago, my wife asked me to 'burn' two CD's for her. Note: Burning CD's does not require a fire. Nope, my wife wished for me to take two original CD recordings and 'make copies' of them on blank CD's.  I do a lot of CD 'burning' for friends and family. Why not? My goodness, I have a huge collection of music on vinyl, (both 45's and LP's) plus many CD's. I have a small electronic recording machine, which has two retractable trays: one for the original CD and the other for the blank CD. The machine can record 48-minutes of music onto a blank CD in a couple of minutes. The vinyls 'burning' onto a blank CD is different. Thre vinyl is placed on a turntable player/recorder and a blank CD is inserted into the tray. Once you place the needle on the vinyl you push a button that will record the vinyl sounds onto the blank CD. That's a bit slower process because it must be recorded in actual playing speed of the vinyl.

Okay, now that you completely bored let me tell you the rest of my wife's request. She wanted 20- CD's of Josh Groban's Christmas CD entitled 'Noel' and 10- CD's of Kenny G's CD entitled 'Faith.' That's Right a total of thirty. Here's the deal: for the second consecutive Christmas season, my wife has accepted the responsibility of coordinating our Church's Staff Christmas Party. This year, she made arrangements with Cracker Barrel to cater. My wife is big on holiday decorating and token gift giving. Obviously the latter (gift giving) is where I come into play...I'm the owner of a lot of music  and two music burners.

After finishing my specific charge I gave the thirty CD's to Party Director, Gerry who informed me that her good friend Judy was coming to our home to assist in bow-tying a candy cane on each CD.
Upon hearing that news and fearing I might be required to 'help,' I disappeared to my basement office and listened to some thing different than Christmas music...'Little ' Milton's, 'Grits Ain't Groceries.'
(Touch)Needed a Change of Tunes

It's My Party

For many years American voters have bemoaned the fact that they only had two political parties from which to select candidates and or embrace platform ideas. Well, hooray for the USA. We now have three political parties: Democrats, Republicans and 'The White Nationalists.' I believe this is good because it truly comes closer in representing a cross-section of our national voting constituents.

In short order, I think a fourth political party will emerge. Perhaps that party will choose from one of the following identity labels: 1.  Po' People Party  2.  Hot Chocolate Party or 3. Victim's Party.
You can make a case for each of the aforementioned party labels. 1. There is no segment in American society growing numbers faster that 'Poor People. 2.  Every direction one looks, one notices people of color being a target of political bull crap. If it isn't travel bans, talks of deportation it's a plethora of other boogieman stories. The 'brown skin' folks should be boiling. And certainly everybody these days are 'victims' of some misgiving so why not have a Victim's party? You gotta party?

(Touch)
It's My Party

Pardon Me Boy

There are two guys who should not anticipate invitations to visit President Trump at the White House.....  Bowe Bergdahl joins Colin Kaepernick as non-invitees. In fact, both should avoid Pennsylvania Avenue altogether because according to President Trump, one is a "son-of-a-bitch" and the other "should be shot." Trump calls Bergdahl's 'no prison time' court verdict for leaving his military post, "a total disgrace." Of course, Trump felt no disgrace when he pardoned Former Arizona Sheriff, Joe Arpaio who was convicted of criminal contempt. Trump felt no disgrace in firing FBI Director, James Comey and he will undoubtedly feel no disgrace or shame when he pardons, Flynn, Kushner, Sessions, Gates and Manafort. Speaking of 'pardons,' I note Trump exercised his pardon-powers a week or so ago 'freeing' two turkeys this past Thanksgiving. Two very pretty white turkeys. Two years from now (2019), Trump's administration is planning to deport (not pardon) 59,000 Haitians who have been living and working in America since the Haiti earthquake of five years ago. I could be wrong but it appears to me that many Trump decisions have a 'color-chart' litmus test.

We have General 'Arrogant' Flynn, who led chants to "lock her up" (Hillary Clinton) during the Presidential campaign and lo' and behold it appears there's a hellava lot better chance of Flynn being locked up. Remember a few months past when 'Grab'em by the crotch' Trump was asking about the extent of his presidential pardon powers? Sure you do. That's because Trump knew damn well the opportunity to pardon several people was just a matter of time.

Just yesterday, President Trump told Roy Moore, the alleged sexual predator running for  a U.S. senate seat from Alabama to, "Go get'em, Roy!" Trump was not specific regarding whom to 'get'. Did Trump mean get voters or get girls? Look for Moore to get a pardon down the line if he gets elected and becomes Trump's supportive vote.

Before  it's all over Trump will likely be remembered in American history books as 'The Pardon President' or he's going to have friends and family...in matching jump-suits..
(Touch)Chain Gang

You Remind Me of....

This past Saturday, I turned on the family room television and began my channel-surfing, I stopped to notice Chuck Connors playing with The Rifleman. I didn't think much about it at the moment but two hours later, I noticed that TV channel was still playing 'The Rifleman.' Checking the television guide, it appears the Rifleman is on the Tube nearly as much as The Hallmark Hall of Fame movies.

I couldn't help but recalling a Rifleman story from years ago, which has a personal touch. I was a nineteen year old sophomore at Illinois State University. In those years, my father was traveling in his sales position with New England Lead Company. A couple of his clients were in Central Illinois and he'd often let me know ahead of time to grab a couple of roommates and meet him some place for a steak dinner...now that was a treat! On one such occasion, I excused myself from the restaurant table to use the restroom. While standing at a urinal relieving myself, a very drunk fella staggered to the urinal next to me. Soon he began muttering, "Oh, my God, I don't believe it." He kept repeating that line over and over. Now, any guy will tell you that's a bit unnerving while side-by-side at urinals.
Finally, I sternly questioned the man: "What the hell's your problem, pal?" He staggered backwards zipping up his fly and shouted at me, "I know you...YOU'RE THE RIFLEMAN!"

I quickly washed my hands and left the bathroom only to hear the fella yell out, "The guys at work ain't gonna believe  I whizzed with the Rifleman.!" When I returned to the table I asked of my dad and two roommates, "Do I look like Chuck Connors?" My Dad answered, "No but you look stupid with your fly 'open.'
(Touch)You Remind Me Of a Man

Let's Have Our Cake & Eat it Too

I understand that the United States Supreme Court will soon hear the case and render its decision regarding the Colorado baker who refused to bake a wedding cake for a gay couple. The issue in question is all about 'rights.' The Court Justices must determined, which of two rights is valued constitutionally; shall it rule in favor of the baker's right to withhold business service predicated on his religious rights or should it embrace the gay couple's right to fair and equal treatment under the law?

The issue reminds me of a personal encounter of a similar circumstance. It was the winter of 1963.  I was coaching football, basketball and baseball in Assumption, Illinois. My wife and I had one child, Steve who was two years old. When necessary to avoid another pregnancy, our contraceptive choice was the condom. Unlike today's open display of contraceptive products, back then a fella discreetly whispered to the drug store clerk his wishes to purchase 'prophylactics.' We even used an obviously softer term 'prophylactic' as opposed to harsher sounding term CONDOM.

You could imagine my surprise when the lone drugstore owner in Assumption, Mr. Hafner in a rather scolding voice offered his refusal, "We are Catholics and we don't believe in artificial birth control products." At the time, I did not think much about my rights versus Mr. Hafner's religious rights. Nope, I just thought about the 26-mile round trip Drive to  Taylorville and the possibility my wife  would have a headache upon my return. I never argued with Mr. Hafner but I thought then the same thing as I do today, Hafner should have carried condoms or offered me gas money.

I suspect that the conservative-leaning Supreme Court will rule in favor of the Colorado baker to withhold his cake baking service. Personally, I believe the consumer is being wronged. Once again  it's classic hypocrisy. Is the baker troubled by the fact that he sells cakes to possible murderers, thieves, tax cheaters, pedophiles, people sexually active before marriage and all sorts of Ten Commandment breakers? Well, I am sure he does!

If Mr. Hafner was still living in Assumption, I take him out for lunch and engage a conversation about today's Catholic family sizes versus Catholic family sizes of 1963.

There is a risk factor brewing for the gay couple. Should the Supreme Court ruling go against the baker, I might approach that cake with trepidation. You all do recall the 'pie' in the movie 'The Help.'
(Touch)Bake the Cake

Remembering Man's Greatest Gift

Five years ago this month my mother died. My, how time flies. I should correct that first sentence to read: Our mother died. She gave birth to three sons; yours truly, Tom and Marty.

People subscribe to many beliefs, ideas, opinions and often anchor those feelings with clever sayings and quotes. I do the same when I profoundly purport that 'Mothers are man's greatest gift.' Nobody told me that and nobody insisted I adopt that belief. That said, I have held that belief my entire life and preached it to my children, grandchildren and others...'Mothers' are Man's Greatest Gift!

 Many speak of this notion about 'unconditional love as if we all understand it's definition. Well, I'm not sure that I can string together an arrangement of words to properly define 'unconditional love' but I can certainly tell you what it looked like>>My Mother's face. This expression regarding man's greatest gift does not minimize the profound-anchored loving impact of my Father in my life's journey. He was a giant, my role model and my idol.

Perhaps many who may read my words this day, as I no longer have both parents sharing this earthly journey. As this Christmas season approaches, I hope that those who remain richly blessed with parent-child sharing will embrace the time with passion and gusto. For those of us who represent the older generation, I pray that we may be a blessing to our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren and may we be sustained and lifted in spirit with precious memories.
(Touch)Man's Greatest Gift

Making Her List

Wow! That was a telephone conversation that set my brain to swimming in circles. Our eldest daughter, Dawn called from her South Barrington home yesterday to inquire if she had "missed" mailing her family-photo Christmas card to any of our friends a year ago or do we have any 'new friends' for her to add to that mailing-list this year.

Readers, this daughter is the mother of seven children. This annual Christmas card is steeped in a traditional process, which includes a professional photographer, haircuts for three fellas, hairdo attention for four girls, coordinated clothing and grooming sessions for three designer dogs. The finished product will be a  high quality professional tri-fold card causing Hallmark to envy.
Now, back to my 'head-swimming' from my daughter's inquiry.

My wife and I keep family and friends' contact information in our iPhone, however we continue to reference a personal telephone directory for most addresses. The last time I checked that telephone directory book, I noticed an increased number of lines drawn through people's names...they've died.
My first thought was to run to the store and get a new phone directory-book and clean up our listings. Then I thought, who am I kidding, that's like chasing feathers in the wind...that's where we are in our own journey.

I told my daughter that I could not think of any new friends to add to her Christmas-card mailing list and in fact I updated her on a couple she no longer needs to send a card. As I concluded my chat with her, I suggested that if any of her Christmas cards to our friends come back to her she should let me know so I can 'up-date' our phone-directory.

Ain't it  a shame!Ain't That A Shame

What's That Smell?

Obsession, Versace, Calvin Klein, Animale, Polo, Iron Man, Royal Copenhagen, Curve, Michael Jordan, Joop, Axe Sport Blast and Avon Black Suede. Those colognes, deodorants and after shave products sit atop my dresser of drawers. I do not purchase any of those items. My wife is constantly buying Avon products for me, which explains the Black Suede and my adult children evidently have a serious concern about their old father 'stinking up the family gatherings' because they buy all that stuff for me at birthdays and Father's Day.

With so many various products designed for specific use it has become obvious that I should read labels carefully before 'applying.' May I elaborate? I am not one who reads directions. It is my experience that written directions cause confusion. Therefore, when I purchase a product, an auto, telephone, television...or whatever, I either ask the sales clerk to fully explain operating procedures or I bring the purchase home and wait for an unsuspecting younger family member to visit.

Okay, back to my problem with the aforementioned 'Smell Mel' products.' For two weeks, I've been applying what I believed to be Versace after shave cologne to this wrinkled kisser and it just doesn't vanish on the skin as do other after shave colognes. Damn if I didn't get caught in a pretty good rain shower a week ago and when I slid into the driver's seat of my Avalon, I looked in the mirror to wipe away water only then did I notice 'little bubble-suds' forming on that face. You guessed. I've been using Versace 'shower gel' thinking it was after shave.
(Touch)What's That Smell?

Be Fair; Do Right

What's the phrase frequently used by the younger set..."It is what it is." I wish to speak to something 'that is what it is' but needs to CHANGE! Let me preface my rant by stating without hesitation, apologies or self-praise, I have championed the minority-cause my entire adult life and will do so until that life is no longer. That said, hear me...

Recently, a central Illinois high school basketball coach 'cut' his squad and chose not to select (keep) a starter from one year ago. Of course, we make the cheese more binding pointing to the fact that the coach in question is White and the player is Black. Therefore it is inevitable that 'race' would become an issue. I've heard that line often and I ask, why the hell would any coach NOT keep and play the best players provided the player is of good character and coachable?

While coaching at Edwardsville high school seven years, I received numerous anonymous telephone calls only to hear voices call me, "You ni*#er lover!" During my twenty one year tenure as Jacksonville's basketball coach, my teams were comprised of 40% African-American players from a community of less that 8% African-Americans. Still many of my Black ball players shared with me time and time again that it took them reaching their junior year in school to realize the street-talk that the "White Coach ain't gonna give you a chance" was false. It was a loser-line from for wannabe losers.

Okay, here's the 'It is what is' that needs to vanish. That central Illinois team I speak about has several very good black players playing for that coach. Many Blacks in that community know that the coach and his family who's catching all kinds hell from a segment pushing that race-issue is being WRONGED and yet those Blacks remain silent in defense of the coach...that's sad and it's cowardly and it needs to change. Just as I choose to speak out at other 'Whites' for bigoted transgressions against minorities, I would expect the same defense in my behalf from my brothers and sisters of another color when they see I'm wronged. I don't buy nor accept that silence for any reason.

True and complete emancipation is unqualified and it's roadway has two-lanes. Spare me the man who raises his voice for 'his' people and not 'all' people. Spare me the man who sees color before right & wrong.
(Touch)Do Right

A Perspective on a Game.

In 1951 at age 12, I scored my first (competitive) basketball game-shot representing St. Martin's Parrish as its only non-Catholic player as permitted by the East St. Louis CYO League rules. That field goal was a little baseline jump-shot.  Last night (November 25, 2017), I closed the books on the forty-eighth Annual Decatur/Team Soy Capital Thanksgiving Basketball Tourney as its tournament director these past 16-years. Between the year 1951 and last evening, I've played, coached, directed  and observed thousands and thousands of youth, prep and college basketball contests, which qualifies me NOT as a basketball expert but simply a long time observer of 'the game' from many perspectives. That said, I shall offer my personal >>> 'The State of The Game.'

Never before have basketball players been quicker and more physical across the rosters. The speed of the game is in an all-time fast-pace-high-gear. The more structured half-court offense has given way to the up-tempo fast-break and the enticement of the '3-point-shot' as we note the penetrating guards attacking defensive seams and 'kicking-the-pass-out' for a perimeter trey. Speaking of dribble penetration, I claim that it is nearly impossible for the individual defender to stop the one-on-one dribble drive.

The 'In-your-face' full and half court pressure defense gives impetus to the full throttle game today and underscores the importance of substitute-rotations as it re-defines acceptable turnover numbers while begging for good free throw shooting.

Aside from the aforementioned changes in basketball, four (4) things remain constant throughout the years: (1) many coaches fail to help players define and understand their 'role' as it pertains to the player's physical abilities and skills, (2) the team that wins  the 'boards' most often wins the game,
(3) game officiating remains problematic and unable to please coaches, fans and players, finally (4) many players would be better players if they didn't live with their parents!
(Touch)
Basketball

Wonder Potions

I just don't understand it. When I was a young lad hanging out at Mammy and Grandpa E. V.'s house, I always heard E. V. stirring and getting out of bed at about 4:30AM. I used to think it was a farmer's thing or perhaps just something 'old' guys do...that IS get up early. Well, I convinced it's latter because I've never farmed but I do tend to wake up way too early. Can't go back to sleep. If it ain't joint discomfort it's Morrie's voice, "When you're in bed you're dead." (Tuesday's With Morrie by Mitch Albom).

I often get up at an early hour and go downstairs. I'll make coffee, read a newspaper, check my email and post my blog. Sometimes I surf television channels. If y'all think prime-time television programming 'sucks' then don't turn the TV on early morning hours. On one channel a young shapely lady was chatting with an older fella about a male sex organ enhancement pill called 'Extenze.' The gent told viewers that he wasn't that interested in bigger but would like to 'grade out' better. The gal didn't say anything. She just smiled a lot. I turned the channel.

There was a preacher-fella the next channel offering to send me a free vial of "No Devil Oil." All I needed to do was telephone.This 'No Devil Oil' is a kinda magical potion. Why that preacher-guy spread some money  on a table and then put a drop of that 'No Devil Oil' on each bill, looked right into the camera and told the viewers that money would multiple in a few days! That godly man went on to claim whatever physical ailment you might have just put a drop of that 'wonder oil' on that body part and 'Walla...Good as New!

Tonight, before retiring, I'm gunna rub some Biofreeze 'oil' on my aching knees, take a pill (not Extenze but Sominex) and hope I sleep the night through. Should I Dream, let's hope Julie Roberts is the central figure rather than Rush Limbaugh.
(Touch)
Magic Potions

Thank God

As a young boy and well into my teen years, our family spent Thanksgiving in a most traditional manner. While the ladies readied the Thanksgiving feast, the fellas headed out to see the season finale football game between arch-rivals East St. Louis High and Belleville Township High. The game matched two premier Illinois downstate prep gridiron programs, which attracted a mid-morning crowd of approximately 10,000 fans. Once state high school sports associations developed end of season football playoffs those Thanksgiving Contest disappeared. Any way, post-game destination was Grandma/Grandpa Roustio's house in lower Washington Park (East St. Louis). To be exact...56th street in 'The Park' where most of the Roustio Clan lived.

Pondering my yesteryear's, I never imagined that one day (2017), Gerry and I would be the grandparent's house of destination. Our son, Steve & daughter in-law Kathy's family will not be joining us for Thanksgiving due to his basketball coaching duties. That means our Thanksgiving gathering number will only number just 19 instead of 30...that's right, the Christmas gang will be 30.
One neat sidebar is these days finds introductions to grandkids' significant 'others.'

Actually, the nineteen adults attacking turkey, ham, sweet potatoes, various casserole dishes and too many desserts will bring some family pets. We're talking six dogs. One rather large docile-shedding Golden Retriever, one fluffy Teddy Bear pup, a temperamental Malti-Poo and two Morkies...one of which is referenced as a demon-dog...that would be the Mini-Morkie who could benefit from an exorcist. House Poodle Yodie rounds out the six canines and be assured he will be protective of his  stuffed-bear, which he will 'hump' a few times in front of guests. It must be a possessive thing.?

The day is filled with laughter, games, recall and the gentle and not so gentle jabs that only siblings can embrace. My wife and I feel most blessed. We deeply appreciate our children and grandchildren wishing to 'come' for Thanksgiving and Christmas. We do not take the blessings for granted...never have we.

 Thanksgiving and Christmas are the only two nights that I take a flashlight to bed. Let me explain. We have a large 4-bedroom home that comes short of bedding 19-to-30 people. Therefore, blow-up beds are in order making floor space congested. That said, an old fart making a few late night 'pee treks' needs to negotiate the darkened-maze of bodies!
(Touch)Family Thanksgiving

'Stuff' or is it 'Junk?'

We all tend to collect and keep a lot of 'stuff' during life's journey. I recall many in my mother's family journeyed a long time and consequently garnered an incredible amount of 'stuff.' Mother's sister, Kate comes to mind because she lived to age 99 and my wife and I had the responsibility of the 'stuff' she left behind.  Oh sure, much could be defined as throw away junk but not so fast y'all.

As we sorted through my Aunt Kate's belongings we gained much insight into that which occupied her mind throughout her life and particularly in her latter years.  So many of those cherished memories displayed in photos, letters and notes. Of course, we boxed many items and brought them to our house thus those things became 'our stuff.' In the ensuing weeks, I found it rather difficult to simply toss away my deceased Aunt's personal items in some cavalier manner. I felt as if I needed permission. Who am I to make such a decision about another's possessions and making the 'cheese more binding' my Aunt was not present to defend her life.

With this experience in my rear view mirror, I've begun a personal sifting-through of my 'stuff' and  discarding or giving away items. My kids don't need that moment and besides, while I'm still riding the train, I should decide what's good 'stuff' and what's  'junk.'
(Touch)Junk Collector

Different Ages but Dollies Just The Same

If physical health remains, my wife and I will head to Florida for the months of January, February and a bit of March. It will be our fifth consecutive winter spent in the Sunshine State. Since wintering in Florida, we have discontinued our annual Branson Christmas trip. If you are unfamiliar with Branson, Missouri, I can best describe it as AARP's response to 'college spring breakers.' Unlike the spring-break college 'dollies,' the Branson 'senior babes' do not have wet T-shirt contests bringing attention to 'perky-points' but instead the AARP gals cover 'sagging points' with gaudy sweatshirts, boasting claims of 'Grandma and Nana' greatness or grandkids' omnipotent abilities.

Florida seniors share one similarity with the Branson seniors; the oldsters' go to bed about 9:00PM, that's the time the 'spring-breakers' are leaving to embrace the night-life. Both groups may find one similar 'activity moment.'  As the senior crowd is 'staggering out of bed' in the morning feeling arthritis pain, the younger crowd is 'staggering in towards a bed' feeling no pain.

The Florida beaches welcome the Sringbreak 'dollies' and the Florida Outlet Malls welcome the 'Smowbird dollies.'
(Touch)Hello Dolly

Wish or Will

Several years ago, I scribbled this verse the night before I made a presentation at the Pennsylvania High School Athletic Directors' Annual Convention held in Hersey, PA.

              Wishing or Willing

I sit at this desk; I wait in that line,
I watch for the light, I bide my time.

While I wait and imagine, I stare into space,
I dream of greatness in a far off place.

We differ, you and I it would seem,
We're only common in that we dream.

Intense with my wish, I fail to understand,
Perhaps I might 'will' it... if at my command.

Conditioned through these mounting years,
I chose to 'wish' NOT 'will' because of fears.,

Might I negotiate life's hurdles and go beyond these dreams,
Determined and confident to make the 'will' my theme?

Before the hourglass be emptied and time no more my frill,
I shall put aside the 'wish' and make the 'dream' my 'will.'

Step Aside Boys!

Finally. FINALLY! America's disconnected, vicious, negative discourse appears to have served up a wonderful opportunity-in time. There is no denying that male politicians have made the case...
the case for ELECTING women to government leadership roles.

It is obvious that the social behavior of men has reached a saturation point. Dating back to Thomas 'Sex-Slave-Owner' Jefferson's insatiable physical appetite for black women through the well documented Chappaquiddick's-'Car-Wreck' Ted, Clarence 'Supreme Pubic-Hair' Thomas, Bill 'Blue Dress' Clinton, George H. W. 'Butt-Pinchin' Bush to the current 'Hound Dogs the likes of Trump 'Grab-Their-Junk' and 'Weired-Mall-Boy-Roy,' we now see clearly...it's time to elect women to our political leadership positions. Tell the fellas to clean out their desks and make sure they take their 'Playboy Magazines.' Remind the older Farts to take their viagra pills with them.

The only hurdle to this new political day may be getting votes from those crazy ass Evangelicals who still subscribe to the incorrect interruption of Colossians 3:18...that "wives be submissive to your husbands," thing.
(Touch)Vote Woman

Morons and Guns Galore

The act of terrorism is a deliberate (surprise) violent attack against civilians in the hope of gaining political or religious objectives. That's different than a mass murdering of civilians for some deranged pleasure. America has far more mass murders by home-grown White Guys than Terrorist attacks by Brown Guys, however our leadership response, which is tempered by NRA money is imbalanced.

I will not insult you readers by re-visiting killing fields for the purpose of differentiating between mass murders vs. terrorism. Let it suffice to state we have seemingly categorized this madness already. If a Black guy kills, he's a worthless thug that should be executed. If a Muslim kills, he's a radical Jihadist who should be executed quickly and have his countrymen banned from the United States. If the killer is Hispanic then we need to execute him, then round up everybody who looks like him and deport them and build that Wall immediately. However, if the mass killer is an American born 'White Dude,' we need not waste time talking gun-control but write it off as a mental health problem, send out prayers and condolences and turn the page. I've said it before, we are a sick nation that does nothing when 20- six year old school children are murdered at their classroom desks and no attempt is forthcoming to control the escalating number of 300-plus million guns in our country.

The fact is>>the State of Texas has more guns than the entire country of Japan. It's safe to say, America is fast producing a growing number of imbeciles and making it easier for them to purchase guns.

A couple of weeks ago, a Muslim 'terrorist' rented a truck and ran over innocent civilians killing eight. President Trump called for "extreme vetting" of Muslims. A few days later, an Air Force veteran used an automatic weapon and murdered 26-people sitting in Church pews worshiping. After the church mass murders, President Trump failed as he did after other mass murders by Americans to call for "extreme gun control." Draw your own conclusions about our President.
(Touch)Mad World

Poor Me

I heard it 'said' yesterday on MLB Sirius radio network: "Pro baseball managers today must tell there players ahead of each game about lineup changes." The former major leaguer speaking stopped short of saying modern players MUST be coddled but the implication was loud and clear.

Check the date...it is the year 2017. Re-read my opening paragraph. This is who we are as a nation...we are people of entitlement. We have softened our expectation of American generations and arrived at a place unfamiliar to me. Today, if we don't get our way or a least given gentle strokes of explanations, we are victims and where there are victims there are perpetrators and perpetrators should be held accountable...accountable for withholding that which somehow 'belongs' rightfully to the victim.

True story...

It was 1955. Sixteen year old Mel was not being groomed as a starter at the basketball season's  beginning. At the family supper table, victimized Mel began venting and complaining about the "unfairness" of his coach. Mel's father stopped his oldest son in mid-sentence and sternly admonished his son simply saying, "Boy, if you don't like arrangements around your sport life then you need to do some thing to change it."

That generation of parenting and the accompanying philosophy is dead and long discarded. The result? Today's sport coaches must explain 'why' the little leaguer and the highly paid professional is not playing. Today's leaders who find public accounts of their leadership unflattering reference those reports as 'fake' and other high ranking government officials caught in repeated lies testifying before Congress insist at day's end, "I told the truth."

Simply stated..."It ain't my fault...I'm a victim."
(Touch)
Poor Me

Faith and Religion

It has been stated that 'religion' is man's creation to support his deeper feelings of 'faith.' Of course, the 'faith' I reference is that personal conviction of a God who created and designed a universe and everything in it. Christians believe that God sent His son, Jesus-Christ to die for our sins, which provides a pathway to our eternal life should we acknowledge Christ as our Savior. Faith is that simple. Religion is not so simple. If religion was simple we'd have but one religion. Since man cannot agree on how we should interpret and live our faith, he must subscribe to a doctrine that offers guidelines and since man cannot agree on many things we note the emergence of many religious doctrines and even see some religions that claim they are not religions but 'non- denominational.' Man tends to find  a 'doctrine,' which fits his own perceptions and views on life.

Most often, I find people, as myself, who grew up in a religion's doctrine and stuck with it. That religious doctrine was instilled in me and I thus felt comfortable. In other circumstances, I note a gravitation to a religious doctrine resulting from inter-religion marriages or social issues, which  enter the Church for debate. It is this latter point that in many ways has contaminated religion...note, I said it contaminated religion not faith. It is my humble opinion that when we invite politics into our churches we run the risk of corrupting that religion. Corruption occurs because social issue debates requires picking  sides and picking sides begs a judgement. Political party's placate religions as the  manipulate certain social beliefs known to be hot button church issues all for the purpose of being  elected to office. Oh, I well know the next comment from my Church brothers and sisters, 'follow biblical scripture and you will be on the side of righteousness.' If that's the case, why then do we have so many different religions? Could it be there arises conflict of biblical scripture interpretation? I think so! And that said, the one scripture passage I've never found is the one where Christ charges His followers to judge one-another until he returns. Since I am a sinner, I want sinners sitting next to me in church...not pure Holy people because those are ghosts and ghosts frighten me.

Regarding 'faith,' religion and a church, I often wonder if a simple Chapel could do?
(Touch)
The Chapel

Boy! Was that FUN?

Time was long overdo...we needed new cell phones. My wife and I were sad owners of IPhones#4. Continue reading after you stop laughing! Understand this, if a gadget has more moving parts than a watermelon, I'm in trouble. And I've been to my local Best Buy Store so many times over the years that I'm on first name basis with most employees. Put it this way...when my wife and I walked through the entrance into Best Buy in search of new phones yesterday, several blue-shirted Geeks saw me and began ducking behind counters hoping they not to wait on me.

We finally lured Josh out from behind the mobile-accessories' display board to help us. When we pulled out our tattered and worn IPhones #4, I noticed he began biting his lower lip to keep from laughing aloud. It didn't take him long to determine he was dealing with two technological morons. He suggested that any phone more equipped than a IPhone#6 would be useless in our possession.

We began this 'new' IPhone purchase journey @ 10:00AM and exited the Best Buy premises at 12:20PM. We each had new cell phones, which cost more than our first automobile.. At one point during our purchasing process, Josh had asked for so damn many password numbers and ICloud numbers that I stopped him in mid-sentence and explained to the twenty-something year old, "Josh, I know my home address, my telephone number and my social security number...that's all! I'm seventy -eight soon to be seventy-nine. I remember 'dial-less' telephones that weighed more than most desk-top computers today. And when I picked that telephone up off the receiver back in 1949, a live female voice asked Me,  "Number Please."  "Therefore Josh, just bag-up the two cell phones and we shall leave, go home and eagerly await our grandchildren visiting Thanksgiving."
(Touch) Operator?

Wait in Line For That Cherry Pie

Kruta Bakery is located in Collinsville , IL. It was not always there. Back in the day, Kruta was in East St. Louis along with another great bakery called Biersdorfer. Across the river on 'The Hill,' you can visit another terrific bakery...Missouri Bakery. These bakeries have two commonalities: great tasting pastries and a long line of patrons holding numbers waiting to make their purchase. Many times, I held a number one higher than the person in front of me who ultimately bought the last canola.

People don't mind waiting in long lines if the perceived 'pay-off merits the fortitude. I have waited in long lines to eat, pee and be entertained. The pee-line always seemed to move the slowest.

We Americans are coming to the holiday seasons where the various lines we encounter are indeed longer, moving slowly and filled with eroding joyous spirit. I'm talking about those SAM'S CLUB lines, grocery stores lines and shopping mall lines. My wife and I have left that mall Christmas present purchase line by giving money to our kids and grandchildren, etc. That decision was made primarily due to the generational fashion appreciation chasm with the younger set. Hallelujah, one less line.

I don't mind standing in the holiday food-purchase line because it's the one time a year that I'm going to ignore my diabetic-diet and buy my favorite pie at Thanksgiving and Christmas.
(Touch)Cherry Pie

Who Should Be Fired?

Yesterday, November 11, 2017 on Veterans' Day, posted my blog remembering the brave military men and women throughout the years who have protected our nation. I particularly wished to acknowledge the families of veterans who suffered the ultimate loss of loved ones.

After posting that blog, I turned to the morning television news and note that President Trump did have a couple of brief face-to-face conversations the day before with Russian President Putin. Afterword's while speaking with American reporters on Air Force One, President Trump reassured reporters that he once again asked Putin if his government meddled in the 2016 American election. Trump said, once again Putin said, "absolutely no." Trump continued saying, "I can't stand a argue with him and I believe him."

Our American President denies all United States intelligence agencies evidence of Russian meddling in our 2016 election and has no problem arguing with our intelligence leaders about their findings, however he accepts the Russian leader's words of denial. And the Trump's supporters buy-in.

And Trump wants to "Fire that son-of -a-bitch" (NFL football player) whom he believes shows disrespect to our nation? I ask, what about our President's disrespect of the hundreds of American intelligence agents (spies) who risk their lives in heroic missions on behalf of this nation?

This guy is a bona fide dumb ass
(Touch)Dumb Ass

My Sincere Gratitude

May I pause this Veterans' Day and offer my sincere thanks and gratitude to every man and woman living and passed who served in the various military branches of the United States. The commitment, dedication and sometimes ultimate sacrifice is duly noted with grateful humbleness.

As noted, in some instances wives, children, mothers, fathers and siblings were forced to pick up pieces of broken lives while others were oblivious to such pain. I was old enough to recall the tears and angst of my own mother as she waited two-years for my father to return from the World War II battlefields of Germany and France.

On this Veterans' Day may this Nation pause and think Thanksgiving.
(Touch)A Special Salute

Advantage 'Old Farts.'

I acknowledge that my daily Rants can come-off as a diatribe or a bitter piece of writing. Many times, I bemoan the angst found in aging. Well, today allow me to shift gears and underscore some 'senior-status' advantages namely found in the proverbial 'discount.'

Early mornings, I can grab my first senior discount at the nearby McDonald's with a 64-cents cup of coffee and unlimited refills. My haircut these days has become a win-win for me and the barber. Non-seniors pay $18 for a haircut...my oldster's discount is $4 cheaper. When I used to pay 'full price' I tipped the barber $2; which brought the total to $20.  I now tip $3, which increases the barber's  money and still saves me money...win-win. Speaking of haircuts. Toy Poodle Yodie's haircut costs a non-Senior dog owner $40. Senior 'pooper-scooper-picker-uppers' pay just thirty-six bucks. Just?

My wife sends AARP a minimum yearly auto-club payment and we get road side service for flat tires, breakdowns or forgetting that gasoline is a necessity. I've noticed most restaurants will darn near give food away to old farts if we eat at four o'clock.

These senior-years are exciting times. Why just yesterday, I got one of those  senior-citizen magazines and saw an advertisement for Pink Flamingo yard decorations. If you purchase one 4-foot tall pink bird for $19.95, you get a second pink bird for half price AND seniors get three two-foot baby pink birds at no cost. I ordered enough to give our three children each a complete set of Pink Flamingos for Christmas. I know they are going to love them because this past summer, I heard the children whispering about the three new Pink Flamingos we put in our backyard...I pick up on that kind of envy...I may be old but I'm not dumb.
(Touch)Old Farts Gain

Sometimes You Must be Sorry

I've heard, as you have heard people say, What was he thinking? Why would she do that? We are often dumbfounded trying to understand the behavior or actions of others. There's a song with an opening line, "How many times have you heard someone say, If I had his money, I'd do things my way." We all do some things 'our way,' which can perplex others.

We should be thankful for that brain component that permits the ability to rationalize. I believe if we lacked this rationalization-argument, we'd have more people jumping off tall buildings. All folks engage in some behavior that satisfies need, greed and pleasure. Some needs are basic while some need is self-serving or giving...it can be a mixed bag and often is. I know this to be true because my personal scorecard reflects all the above. Welcome rationalization. Through the years, I have often used rationalization to defend or forgive my actions or bask in self praise. I need not jump from a tall building...I had 'good' reasons for my behavior...so I rationalized.

Like much in life, more IS NOT better. Too much rationalization without regret or forgiveness is dangerous. I would thank all for their tolerance and forgiveness of my offensive behavior. If you must draw upon your ability to rationalize on my behalf to forgive...I am most appreciative.
(Touch)Say 'Sorry'

You May Wish To Pick One

Most churches offer two Sunday morning services these days. Often the first or early service is the more traditional platform while the second service is usually the more 'contemporary' format. There are three distinct ways in which folks can identify the differences between the two services:
1) men's wearing apparel; traditional service men are decked-out in sport coats, ties and smart leather shoes while the contemporary fellas are seemingly more comfy in jeans, pullover shirts and tennis shoes. 2) music, ah, the music. Traditional pew-sitters sing out the old gospel hymns, i.e. Amazing Grace and How Great Thou Art trying to be heard over a rather loud organ. The contemporary service-singers will find themselves repeating thirty times a four sentence-phrase while guitars and drums aid the effort. 3) Of course, you've already guessed that the third distinction between services is found in age differences. Older grey-beards who cannot sleep in on a Sunday morning attend the traditional service and the younger folks prefer the later offering.

I'm relatively sure that the Lord cares little about what we wear or how we sing as much as He cares about the 82% of professed Christians who didn't attend either service on any given Sunday.
(Touch)Do I Hear a Train Whistle?

Miss Soda Fountains but not Wool Pants

If you stick around and welcome a lot of New Years', you notice many things fade into the past thus becoming fuzzy-memories. Many of those disappearing fades, fashions and activities can be chalked up as good riddance while a few tug at the nostalgic heartstrings.

I surely don't miss those Sunday-go-to-Church wool dress trousers or those wool youth baseball uniforms worn on a hot-humid East St. Louis July summer days. I could only survive that wool when wearing cotton pajama bottoms between skin and wool. I also don't miss taking clinkers from the furnace stoker and spreading about the backyard alley way. I don't miss being the designated 'television-rabbit-ears-adjuster.' Thanks for today's remote control.

I do miss those 1950's model automobiles that sported those fender-skirts and whitewall tires. I still have a set of 'curb-finders,' which I saved since 1956. If whitewall tires make a comeback, I got my 'finders' ready to attach. I also miss the local corner drugstore where I could get a cherry phosphate soda. I also miss hearing those neighborhood evening sounds: kids' voices, newsboys hawking papers and roving push-cart vendors yelling out their pitch, "Red Hot...Gets Your Red Hots!"

Now...at seventy-eight years old, I find myself too often, too clueless. The age of technology challenges me at every turn. One no longer buys a television and simply plug it into the outlet. Land line telephones and Smart (cell) phones require an electrical engineering degree while Internet trouble shooting moxie creates a first-name relationship with all the Best Buy 'Geeks.'

Some times I feel out of place.
(Touch)Stranger in Paradise

Selective Outrage & Lacking Leadership

I hear angry voices regarding the Muslims and the generalization that if one is Muslim they automatically subscribe to the worst tentacles of Sharia law and then tie all Muslims to the ISIS mission from hell. On the heels of any act of terrorism committed in America by a lone-wolf Islamic radical motivates our current government leaders to cry for stronger scrutinizing of Muslims and more intense vetting of Middle-east immigrants, which often leads to banning certain nations from entry to the United States.

I hear many of those same angry voices express resistance to any call for the examination of gun-control when six year old elementary students are murdered in classrooms by crazy white men or movie goers are slaughtered as they await a presentation again by some white guy. It's too early to discuss gun-control the week 59- Vegas concert goers are killed by a deranged white guy cowardly killing for fun. If our schools, theaters and concert venues are no longer safe havens is not our houses of worship? The answer is obviously NO!

How can there be outrage when mass killings are committed by some folks and no outrage when mass killings are committed by other folks?

We will hear idiotic Gobbledygook counter arguments to any gun control discussion or discussion of mental health issues. Too easy for too many people to obtain too many guns.

No longer are there any 'safe zones' in America.
(Touch)
We Need Real Leadership

I Know A Place

The very popular television comedy sitcom finds lead character, 'Sheldon,' the self-centered socially oblivious intellectual nerd often insisting that the end seat on his three-cushioned couch is 'My spot.' Well, I suppose we all have our 'spot.' That favorite easy chair or place where we best relax. As I reflect, I have always had that mental retreat spot or place, also. That place I sought for privacy, reflection and revitalization.

The first time I became aware of this need for a safe and sheltered place was during those adolescent years. Perhaps on the heels of a disagreement with a friend or some admonishment from an adult, I simply wanted to be alone; off by myself with my own thoughts and personal mental-psyche recovery. I found such a 'spot' in my grandparents backyard on an old tree stump. It was there that I would meditate and express aloud my thoughts to the old family dog named, Pal.

In my teen years, my refuge was alone in my own backyard shooting baskets and talking to myself about whatever it was occupying my mind. I was totally lost in my own time and space. As years rolled by, I found another spot and this very day it remains my refuge. In our large two-story, four bedroom home, I know a place. During those midnight hours when oft-times my mind-games
deny sleep, I retreat to my finished-basement office. There I can glance at wall photos of former  teammates, former players and teams that I coached and recall special times and relationships. I can open family photo albums and count endless blessings. I might choose to open an old worn Bible  once owned by my mother. There I can read His words and glance at mom's border notations. Other times, I select from a plethora of music, i.e. Jazz, Blues, Pop Hits,  Classical Songs, Broadway or Show Tunes. Thousands of vinyl 45's, LP's and CD's are at my finger tips. Occasionally, Toy Poodle, Yodie follows me to 'my place' and insists on lap sitting, which permits another dimension of mental healing.

I surely hope each of you have 'that place.'
(Touch)I Know a Place

Gotta a Plan?

Proverbs 22:6..."Start children off on the way they should go and even when they are old they will not turn from it."

 I have never thought myself to be an expert on religions, however I will claim observation knowledge regarding the transformation of Methodism from the late 1940's to present times. The John Wesley folks have always held more 'meetings' than a local school board, which usually consumes itself with the three B's, which are Beans (cafeteria costs) Buses (everybody's kid picked up on time) and Basketball (are we gunna have a winning team or do we need a new coach).

The Methodist Church has changed in other ways. No more Sunday evening services, no Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting and go easy on 'talking Hell Fire and Damnation' from the pulpit.' Today's sermons take on more of a 'feel good message' so as not to scare folks away...bad for business. CERTAINLY, THOSE TELEVISION EVANGELIST ARE MORE INTERESTED IN YOUR MONEY THAN YOUR SOUL. Just recently, my wife requested I hurry because she wanted to go to Walmart. I told her, "Relax,Walmart is like heaven and hell...open 24/7.

I am a grateful father and grandfather. Although none of our grown children remained in the Methodist journey, they nevertheless appear to have a game plan to meet in that 'sweet by and by.' We have two non-denominational families and one Presbyterian gang...and Peace be with you.
(Touch)Sweet By & By

Circle Talk

Hillary Clinton is NOT President. Okay, let's embrace that fact, Hillary is not President. Donald Trump IS President. That said, the reality is it's ALL ON Trump. There were all kinds of reasons people may have voted for Trump. Let's examine a few: Trump was going to: 1) strengthen the military, 2) repeal & replace Obamacare, 3) deliver tax reform, 4) keep terrorist out, 5) build a wall to keep Hispanics out, 6) reduce subsides programs, and 7) promote White Nationalism, 8) take a hard line against minorities and some religions. (Note: Much of that latter message was delivered in code). I'm sure there are other reasons for which folks voted for Trump, not to overlook a genuine hatred for Hillary Clinton.

Congratulations! You're man won...he (Trump) is President.  Hillary is Not President, therefore leave Hillary out of the debate-equation. I'm a St. Louis Cardinals baseball fan; when Matt Carpenter strikes out with the bases loaded, I'm not interested is some dumb-ass statement about the time Ozzie Smith struck out with the bases loaded. Ozzie is no longer in the lineup. Let me state it another way...Ozzie ain't in the game. Hillary ain't in the game. Everything is on Trump. As the saying goes: "The Buck Stops There."

If you still feel a need to defend Trump, I support and celebrate your right to do so but shall we elevate the conversational debate level ? It's speculation what kind of President Hillary or Willie Nelson would be and it's really insignificant if your dad could've beaten up my dad. The conversation hence forth should be about our President (Trump) and his performance.
(Touch)Will It Go Round In Circles

Baby You're No Good

I remember my parents saying 'stuff' like "Birds of a Feather Flock Together" and "You'll be judged by the company you keep." All that Gobbledygook was to warn me about being selective in making friends. You know the message, don't run with bums and delinquents. Umm, looking back on things, I wonder how many mothers warned their boys about 'my kind,' whatever that was? Ah, I had good friends. Some of us could be idiots at times predicated on some choices we made but for the most part, we all became productive without being incarcerated.

There is much to be said about 'birds of a feather' however. Just examine President Donald Trump and those with whom he has surrounded himself. Trump is notorious for pontificating 'his' own truth on matters and refuses to accept facts that may be unpleasant for him. Example: The majority of Democrats and Republicans accept the fact the Russia meddled in our 2016 presidential election...Trump thinks the culprit could have been your fat nephew. Even White House staffer Kellyanne Conwawy purports, "We are entitled to 'alternative facts." Trump is known for his propensity to lie as are his two Generals, Flynn and Kelly. Trump is extremely arrogant and incapable of apologizing; well they don't get much more arrogant than Steve Brannon and the honorable General Kelly, when caught lying about a Congresswoman stated, "I'll never apologize to her." Thata' boy, Semper Fi.

Well, perhaps Donald's mother wasn't into those 'character cliche' reminders to her Little Donnie' and Donnie's dad was too busy running around with his own questionable crowd...The KKK.
(Touch)No Good

Calling All Angels

Last week driving home from a church meeting, I suppose I was not traveling fast enough for the fella-driver behind me because he passed me, honked and gave me the finger. I wondered, what's your problem? Later that evening I was watching the World Series baseball game when a  Houston player made a racist gesture towards a Los Angeles pitcher of Asian heritage by contorting his own eyes at a 'slanting' position. Again, I wondered, what's your problem?

Throughout my intense sports participation-coaching journey, I've noticed the 'athlete posturing' traverse from projecting gracious sportsmanship humility to obnoxious bravado-taunting. It's no longer good enough to be victorious but we now must sooth some inner need to ease a deep angry disposition by humiliating those we defeated and 'flipping-off' other motorists.

Physical encounters by adults have been reported at youth sporting events and fan behavior at sporting events is deteriorating. Examples: (1) a Catholic high school student section chants at their opponent, which is largely comprised of Jewish students, "You killed Jesus, You killed Jesus; (2) a suburban high school student body chants at the inner-city opponent, "Food Stamps, Food Stamps; (3) another school playing a high school with many Asian and Hispanic students begin chanting, "Donald Trump, Build That Wall; Donald Trump, Build That Wall."

And we Americans get our noses out of joint debating a protest gesture by Pro-athletes who peacefully kneel during our National Anthem??? We need a revisit to those Judea-Christian values we often pontificate. We surely are a phony group!

And amidst it all, the President of the 'United' States fails to denounce or call out a foreign adversary for attacking our 'free democracy' or denounce bigoted 'White Nationalist' and neo-Nazis  demonstrating in our nation's streets. Instead of embracing with uplifting dialogue, this Leader of the 'free world' engages in some of the most hateful and divisive rhetoric in history.

We need and we must call upon our better Angels.
(Touch)Calling All Angels

Do Life Big!

As an adolescent, I recall on rare occasions my mother taking me to see a doctor. The reason was usually a sore throat or attention to some injury. Before those years, I vividly remember the family doctor making a house call if asked. During my teenage years, I needed that annual sports' physical examination and as for seeing a doctor other wise that was infrequent. I've been blessed throughout life and especially those young adult years; seldom did I need a doctor's appointment.

Today, I have a frequent patient-doctor professional interaction that I'm beginning to embrace as 'social time' with my family physician, a gastroenterologist, a dentist, a dermatologist, ophthalmologist and a podiatrist. This doctors' visit frequency speaks to the reality of body parts wearing out or becoming vulnerable...its called aging.

We all know that young teens look at life as their oyster and perceive personal engagement as unending. When the doctor patient interaction intensifies, we are forced to consider an end game. And this mind-altering game is why I blog this day. I must periodically remind myself of these words  attributed to the philosopher, Horace Kellan:
                                                There are those who guide their lives by the fear of death.
                                                There are those who guide their lives by the joy of life.
                                                The former live dying; the latter die living.
                                                When I die, I intend to die living.

I'd like to share more this morning but I must shave and shower. I have an early morning doctor's appointment. Enjoy!
(Touch)Do Life Big