I attended Grace United Methodist Church Vacation Bible School (Decatur, Illinois) last Saturday, July 29. The last time I attended a Vacation Bible School was 68-years ago at Grace Methodist Church Washington Park, (East St. Louis) Illinois. At that Vacation Bible School, sixty-right years ago, I made a plaster-of-Paris molded bust of a dog's head. I have no idea what the lesson was that day but I still have the dog head. This most recent Vacation Bible School lesson was about "Forgiveness." I know this because I was responsible for teaching a portion.
There has been many times in my personal journey that I have sought divine forgiveness as well as forgiveness from those who travel this journey with me. The 'Good Book' tells us that forgiveness is on-going. We are to think of it as we think of numbers...infinity. I do understand that on those occasions when I was wronged and felt hurt and anger, I could only move on and feel better 'inside' if I forgave. Those times when I withheld my forgiveness and hung on to the hurt and anger, I was miserable. I had given power to my trespasser and I deplore giving another person dominion over my spirit.
I hope 'Forgiveness' is in your 'Play Book.'
(Touch)
Forgiveness
Monday, July 31, 2017
Sunday, July 30, 2017
A Hero Once Again
On Monday, July 24, I penned a blog entitled, 'What's Good for John is Good for Doe.' In that piece, I stated that even though I don't always agree with Senator John McCain, I believe him to be a war-hero and I pray for God's grace and comfort as he fights brain cancer. I stated that I would pray for an epiphany among the GOP to give us health care similar to McCain's.
The GOP was delighted McCain was returning to D. C. to vote to repeal & replace Obamacare. Well, by now, we have all noted that McCain gave his party one thumbs up to advance the health care bill into debate but then he gave a profound thumbs down on the last vote with the most sensible plea for both party's to come together and develop a bi-partisan health care bill in the best interest of the American people. Thank you Senator McCain.
Only a moron would miss the obvious fact that Republicans have been on a seven and a half-year mission from Hell to JUST repeal and replace 'anything' with Obama's name attached. They had seven years to design something and they designed NOTHING!
I would hope that the two political parties would follow McCain's advise. I would also hope that McCain can be present when that revised-health care bill is signed into law. And finally, to ease the pain of the GOP's childish thinking to "stamp out" the name Obamacare, let's name the new law...
'McCaincare.' It was McCain's thumbs-down that will forever be the defining moment.
Hats off to the Vietnam War hero and long-time public servant.
When it's all over, somebody should explain to Trump what happened, he can then figure out a way to 'take credit.' Of course, he has been busy promoting the idea that only Lincoln was more Presidential than he. Meanwhile, don't forget the real heroes and true friends.
(Touch)
A True Hero
The GOP was delighted McCain was returning to D. C. to vote to repeal & replace Obamacare. Well, by now, we have all noted that McCain gave his party one thumbs up to advance the health care bill into debate but then he gave a profound thumbs down on the last vote with the most sensible plea for both party's to come together and develop a bi-partisan health care bill in the best interest of the American people. Thank you Senator McCain.
Only a moron would miss the obvious fact that Republicans have been on a seven and a half-year mission from Hell to JUST repeal and replace 'anything' with Obama's name attached. They had seven years to design something and they designed NOTHING!
I would hope that the two political parties would follow McCain's advise. I would also hope that McCain can be present when that revised-health care bill is signed into law. And finally, to ease the pain of the GOP's childish thinking to "stamp out" the name Obamacare, let's name the new law...
'McCaincare.' It was McCain's thumbs-down that will forever be the defining moment.
Hats off to the Vietnam War hero and long-time public servant.
When it's all over, somebody should explain to Trump what happened, he can then figure out a way to 'take credit.' Of course, he has been busy promoting the idea that only Lincoln was more Presidential than he. Meanwhile, don't forget the real heroes and true friends.
(Touch)
A True Hero
Saturday, July 29, 2017
Time to Re-Direct Prayers
The events of the past week are somewhat unprecedented and down right head-scratching. The office of the President of the United States has always been viewed as the most powerful in the world and yet that power appeared impotent last week. The President wanted Obamacare repealed and/or replaced...it did not happen even in light of the President's party holding all the cards. The President stated that there is a reversal of government policy regarding transgenders serving in the military. The military brass has ignored the President's proclamation. After a somewhat unwise and self-serving speech delivered by our President to 40,000 Boy Scouts, the Boy Scout leadership felt compelled to publicly distance themselves from our President and all politics.
On another matter, the President appears to have a desire to 'replace' Attorney General, Jeff Sessions with perhaps a more sympathetic AG who might derail the on-going investigation into potential wrong-doing by the Trump Campaign and possible collusion with Russia during the 2016 election. That idea was throttled by GOP lawmakers who have warned the President, that should he fire the AG or Special Investigator, 'there will be hell to pay.'
On top of these frustrating defeats sustained by our President, he now has 'in-White House' fighting driven by a foul-mouth friend who has raised eyebrows with extremely vulgar language, which we can only hope will not appear in future Middle-school history books.
I recall when Donald Trump was elected President, a Preacher told me that it was my duty as a Christian to pray for our President. I have done that for the last 6-months. I'm now going to stop and start praying for Christians who continue to defend that which flies in the face of Christ's teachings.
I embrace the teaching that we all sin and fall short of God's glory. I make no excuses for my sinful shortcomings but simply pray for forgiveness. That said, I cannot and will not accept Evangelicals' lies, excuses and lame defenses from Church people who refuse to acknowledge and the wrong-doing by this President and his administration. It's time to pray for those people instead of the President.
(Touch)
Prayers for Others
On another matter, the President appears to have a desire to 'replace' Attorney General, Jeff Sessions with perhaps a more sympathetic AG who might derail the on-going investigation into potential wrong-doing by the Trump Campaign and possible collusion with Russia during the 2016 election. That idea was throttled by GOP lawmakers who have warned the President, that should he fire the AG or Special Investigator, 'there will be hell to pay.'
On top of these frustrating defeats sustained by our President, he now has 'in-White House' fighting driven by a foul-mouth friend who has raised eyebrows with extremely vulgar language, which we can only hope will not appear in future Middle-school history books.
I recall when Donald Trump was elected President, a Preacher told me that it was my duty as a Christian to pray for our President. I have done that for the last 6-months. I'm now going to stop and start praying for Christians who continue to defend that which flies in the face of Christ's teachings.
I embrace the teaching that we all sin and fall short of God's glory. I make no excuses for my sinful shortcomings but simply pray for forgiveness. That said, I cannot and will not accept Evangelicals' lies, excuses and lame defenses from Church people who refuse to acknowledge and the wrong-doing by this President and his administration. It's time to pray for those people instead of the President.
(Touch)
Prayers for Others
Friday, July 28, 2017
Somebody oughta write a book about it.
Whether you identify as a Pro-Trump person or an Anti-Trump individual, I believe you all would agree that 'one day' (sooner-rather-than-later) somebody will write a 'tell-all book' about.................. 'The Trump White House.'
I invite your response this day to the following survey question:
Who will be the first to write that book?
Kellyanne Conway...Reince Priebus...Steve Bannon...Others
Bonus question...Who pens the book's forward?
Here are my answers>> I think Kellyanne Conway will be first to write the Trump White House 'tell-all' book and I believe Hillary Clinton will write the forward. The two will then criss-cross the country together in a RV doing book signings. They will later co-author a cookbook entitled:
'Crock Pot Recipes for Difficult Men.'
(Touch)
Somebody Oughta Write a Book
I invite your response this day to the following survey question:
Who will be the first to write that book?
Kellyanne Conway...Reince Priebus...Steve Bannon...Others
Bonus question...Who pens the book's forward?
Here are my answers>> I think Kellyanne Conway will be first to write the Trump White House 'tell-all' book and I believe Hillary Clinton will write the forward. The two will then criss-cross the country together in a RV doing book signings. They will later co-author a cookbook entitled:
'Crock Pot Recipes for Difficult Men.'
(Touch)
Somebody Oughta Write a Book
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Just Doin' Their Thing
When assuming the Jacksonville Crimsons' high school boys' basketball position, one of the first things I did was to bring together the the cheerleading sponsor, the dance/Pom Sponsors and the band director. I impressed upon those activities' leaders that I did not perceive 'game-night' as basketball ONLY but instead, I wished for our game nights to be 'a happening.' I made it clear that if they got together and orchestarted their combined contributions rather than compete for time, we would become a 'model' for Friday/Saturday nights' high school basketball. They DID and we BECAME!
Perhaps a missed-communication occurred between games activities and custodian, Stanley Tendick's charge to sweep the court-floor...here's what happened: A Pom dancer was performing her 'award-winning' ribbon-dance as Stanley began his back and forth push-broom duties. The dance routine was a picture of poetry-in-motion as the young girl tossed the ribbon about and did various spinning moves toward the ribbon only to reach to the floor swooping the ribbon up and tossing it once again into the air. The capacity-crowd was applauding periodically. Suddenly there was an uncanny eerie stillness as Stanley's broom moved ever so much closer and closer to the ribbon each time it was tossed to the floor. A loud "Oooooh! filled the air when Stanley's wide push-broom came within inches from sweeping the ribbon to the opposite end of the gym floor. Stanley was unaware of the potential disaster and the dancer was too focused to consider any thing but 'hitting her spot with music timing.' For a brief moment one might think the whole damn thing was rehearsed.
Finally, the hand wringing performance ended to a standing ovation. I believe the young girl and Stanley were pleased completing their respective charges. I do know the audience was a buzz with joy and post performance relief.
The next day, Principal Ed Wainscott told me to have a talk with Stanley. It seems that Mr. Wainscot told Stanley not to sweep the floor that night but Stanley ignored the order. When Wainscott questioned Stanley's disobedience, Stanley said, "You ain't the boss of The Bowl, Coach Roustio is The Bowl Boss." Stanley had absolutely no idea who the hell Ed Wainscott was!
(Touch)
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ijvrHrdHVS
Perhaps a missed-communication occurred between games activities and custodian, Stanley Tendick's charge to sweep the court-floor...here's what happened: A Pom dancer was performing her 'award-winning' ribbon-dance as Stanley began his back and forth push-broom duties. The dance routine was a picture of poetry-in-motion as the young girl tossed the ribbon about and did various spinning moves toward the ribbon only to reach to the floor swooping the ribbon up and tossing it once again into the air. The capacity-crowd was applauding periodically. Suddenly there was an uncanny eerie stillness as Stanley's broom moved ever so much closer and closer to the ribbon each time it was tossed to the floor. A loud "Oooooh! filled the air when Stanley's wide push-broom came within inches from sweeping the ribbon to the opposite end of the gym floor. Stanley was unaware of the potential disaster and the dancer was too focused to consider any thing but 'hitting her spot with music timing.' For a brief moment one might think the whole damn thing was rehearsed.
Finally, the hand wringing performance ended to a standing ovation. I believe the young girl and Stanley were pleased completing their respective charges. I do know the audience was a buzz with joy and post performance relief.
The next day, Principal Ed Wainscott told me to have a talk with Stanley. It seems that Mr. Wainscot told Stanley not to sweep the floor that night but Stanley ignored the order. When Wainscott questioned Stanley's disobedience, Stanley said, "You ain't the boss of The Bowl, Coach Roustio is The Bowl Boss." Stanley had absolutely no idea who the hell Ed Wainscott was!
(Touch)
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ijvrHrdHVS
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
The Coach & The Custodian
Should I toss out the word 'Bowl,' folks from the Los Angeles area might think, 'Hollywood Bowl.' Football crazies might think 'Super Bowl.' Well, rest assured people in Jacksonville and West Central Illinois will believe the reference is the Jacksonville high school basketball facility known as
'The Bowl.' This 2500 'no bad seat' facility was an architectural design before it's 1952 time.
When I began a 21-year basketball coaching tenure at 'The Bowl' in 1977, a new floor was being installed and naturally, I had some design input. My son, Steve was a sophomore that year and suggested that we incorporate the 'words' THE BOWL on the floor much like the popular Atlanta 'Omni.' 'The Bowl' script words remain Today.
Jacksonville alumni and locals speak in reverent tones about The Bowl and those who have been caretakers, i.e., custodians took extreme pride in their charge. One Bowl custodian, Stanley Tendick was a coaches favorite if not always appreciated by the administration. I have a couple of Stanley-stories to share with blog readers the next couple of days.
I met Stan that first coaching season in Jacksonville. He was along in years and worked part time as a Bowl custodian under Jake DeOrnellas, head custodian. One night after my practice ended, I realized that I did not have my automobile at The Bowl because of servicing. I needed a ride home. Jake told me "I'll have one of my men give you a ride, Coach." Introduction to Stanley Tendick. Now, God bless Stan, he had a speech impediment, which worsened when he was the least bit nervous. He was a tad tongue-tied with a stammer. As I walked around Stanley's old model car, I noticed that the backseat was filled to the windows with tools and all kinds of scrap plumbing pipes and metals. I eased my self into the front seat and Stan pulled away from 'The Bow' headed towards South Jacksonville. We had traveled less than two-blocks when suddenly two-police squad cars with lights flashing came up behind Stan's vehicle. Stanley in his excitement drove up onto the curb striking a 'Do Not Park Here' sign and knocking it completely to the ground. Naturally, I'm thinking what the hell is going on? What's really in that backseat? Who IS this guy, Stanley Tendick? Now the police officers are not getting out of their squad cars. This means they fear that we have weapons...I know this from my East St. Louis education. 'Holy crap, I'm the new high school basketball coach and tomorrow's headlines will have my name and face on the front page of the morning news paper!'
One officer approaches the car with gun drawn and orders us out to place hands on car and spread our legs. Stanley begins attempting to make his plea and his nervous stammering makes words impossible to understand, except he finally gets out this line: "Do, do, do you You you off, officers know who, who this guy, guy is," as he nods towards me? The officer responds, "No, and we don't give damn who he is!"
After examining Stan's auto contents and asking a few questions, the officers were satisfied that we were NOT the two suspects that just robbed Dunlap Liquor Store. Although, it surprised me when one officer said rage robbers were driving a car answering the description of Stanley's car...wrap your head around that...another car like Stanley's in town.
Convinced that I WAS the new basketball coach, both officers shook my hand and welcomed me to Jacksonville.
I'll share more about my association with Stanley the next two days. He was special.
(Touch)
"He's the Coach."
'The Bowl.' This 2500 'no bad seat' facility was an architectural design before it's 1952 time.
When I began a 21-year basketball coaching tenure at 'The Bowl' in 1977, a new floor was being installed and naturally, I had some design input. My son, Steve was a sophomore that year and suggested that we incorporate the 'words' THE BOWL on the floor much like the popular Atlanta 'Omni.' 'The Bowl' script words remain Today.
Jacksonville alumni and locals speak in reverent tones about The Bowl and those who have been caretakers, i.e., custodians took extreme pride in their charge. One Bowl custodian, Stanley Tendick was a coaches favorite if not always appreciated by the administration. I have a couple of Stanley-stories to share with blog readers the next couple of days.
I met Stan that first coaching season in Jacksonville. He was along in years and worked part time as a Bowl custodian under Jake DeOrnellas, head custodian. One night after my practice ended, I realized that I did not have my automobile at The Bowl because of servicing. I needed a ride home. Jake told me "I'll have one of my men give you a ride, Coach." Introduction to Stanley Tendick. Now, God bless Stan, he had a speech impediment, which worsened when he was the least bit nervous. He was a tad tongue-tied with a stammer. As I walked around Stanley's old model car, I noticed that the backseat was filled to the windows with tools and all kinds of scrap plumbing pipes and metals. I eased my self into the front seat and Stan pulled away from 'The Bow' headed towards South Jacksonville. We had traveled less than two-blocks when suddenly two-police squad cars with lights flashing came up behind Stan's vehicle. Stanley in his excitement drove up onto the curb striking a 'Do Not Park Here' sign and knocking it completely to the ground. Naturally, I'm thinking what the hell is going on? What's really in that backseat? Who IS this guy, Stanley Tendick? Now the police officers are not getting out of their squad cars. This means they fear that we have weapons...I know this from my East St. Louis education. 'Holy crap, I'm the new high school basketball coach and tomorrow's headlines will have my name and face on the front page of the morning news paper!'
One officer approaches the car with gun drawn and orders us out to place hands on car and spread our legs. Stanley begins attempting to make his plea and his nervous stammering makes words impossible to understand, except he finally gets out this line: "Do, do, do you You you off, officers know who, who this guy, guy is," as he nods towards me? The officer responds, "No, and we don't give damn who he is!"
After examining Stan's auto contents and asking a few questions, the officers were satisfied that we were NOT the two suspects that just robbed Dunlap Liquor Store. Although, it surprised me when one officer said rage robbers were driving a car answering the description of Stanley's car...wrap your head around that...another car like Stanley's in town.
Convinced that I WAS the new basketball coach, both officers shook my hand and welcomed me to Jacksonville.
I'll share more about my association with Stanley the next two days. He was special.
(Touch)
"He's the Coach."
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Men and Women Differ in 'Oh So' many ways.
This past Sunday afternoon, I thought I'd loose my mind trying to avoid those never-ending news programs and the on-going conversations about Health Care, Russian-Trump investigations, Presidential Pardons and the 'Who's on first, What's on second at the White House.' A fella can take just so much of that lying-in-your-face gobbledygook.
Well, I began channel searching looking for a Cowboy Movie and why not? I was hoping to find the movie 'Rio Bravo' and watch it for the 13th time or perhaps a Clint Eastwood classic like 'Grand Torino.' Suddenly, my remote or as we call it around our crib, 'the clicker,' stopped working...time to change the batteries. As I went to get new batteries, my wife picked up the remote to remove and discard the old batteries. I returned to the family room and handed the batteries to my better half.
At that exact moment the telephone rang and I answered. When I finished my telephone conversation, I noticed my wife comfortably positioned on the sofa watching a Hallmark Channel 'Christmas Movie.' Folks, the outside temperature was 93 degrees and Hallmark is showing Christmas movies? I slowly removed myself from the family room and went to my downstairs office to (burn) record CD's from some classic 1950's vinyls. Sometimes a fella must escape the realities of today's madness!
(Touch)
Lost in the Fifties
Well, I began channel searching looking for a Cowboy Movie and why not? I was hoping to find the movie 'Rio Bravo' and watch it for the 13th time or perhaps a Clint Eastwood classic like 'Grand Torino.' Suddenly, my remote or as we call it around our crib, 'the clicker,' stopped working...time to change the batteries. As I went to get new batteries, my wife picked up the remote to remove and discard the old batteries. I returned to the family room and handed the batteries to my better half.
At that exact moment the telephone rang and I answered. When I finished my telephone conversation, I noticed my wife comfortably positioned on the sofa watching a Hallmark Channel 'Christmas Movie.' Folks, the outside temperature was 93 degrees and Hallmark is showing Christmas movies? I slowly removed myself from the family room and went to my downstairs office to (burn) record CD's from some classic 1950's vinyls. Sometimes a fella must escape the realities of today's madness!
(Touch)
Lost in the Fifties
Monday, July 24, 2017
What's Good for John is Good for Doe
The past few nights, I have included John McCain in my personal prayer petitions. I seldom agree in principle with Senator McCain's political views but I have always held him up as an American War Hero with my total respect. At age 80, McCain underwent a rather serious surgery to remove a blood clot off the frontal lobe of his brain and further medical tests indicate Senator McCain has an aggressive form of cancer. I pray for God's comforting grace on this good man.
I understood that the Republican Party was hoping for McCain's quick recovery in hopes that their health care bill would receive enough votes too pass. Evidently, McCain's anticipated 'yes' vote was going to have little effect, therefore the GOP leadership seized the circumstance to delay the vote. This coming week the GOP fellas plan to vote 'on some thing.' They want to repeal & replace Obamacare or repeal only but get a 'YES' vote of some thing even if it is a damaging vote.
Tonight, when I whisper a prayer for Senator McCain, I going to pray that McCain's buddies have a moment of sudden revelation and insight into the American health care dilemma. What would that epiphany be? A disclosure of the Mayo Clinic Hospital and surgery costs for McCain's life-saving health care. Disclose the payment Senator McCain must personally absorb. BINGO! Therein IS the health care insurance for ALL AMERICANS.
(Touch)
Play Fair
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6e700o8FIxM
I understood that the Republican Party was hoping for McCain's quick recovery in hopes that their health care bill would receive enough votes too pass. Evidently, McCain's anticipated 'yes' vote was going to have little effect, therefore the GOP leadership seized the circumstance to delay the vote. This coming week the GOP fellas plan to vote 'on some thing.' They want to repeal & replace Obamacare or repeal only but get a 'YES' vote of some thing even if it is a damaging vote.
Tonight, when I whisper a prayer for Senator McCain, I going to pray that McCain's buddies have a moment of sudden revelation and insight into the American health care dilemma. What would that epiphany be? A disclosure of the Mayo Clinic Hospital and surgery costs for McCain's life-saving health care. Disclose the payment Senator McCain must personally absorb. BINGO! Therein IS the health care insurance for ALL AMERICANS.
(Touch)
Play Fair
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6e700o8FIxM
Friday, July 21, 2017
Anger Abounds
Every so often, we learn of a kindness extended by an individual whose only comment to the recipient's "Thank you," is "Someday, pay-it-forward." What a wonderful concept. Just imagine a highly contagious epidemic of kindness sweeping a nation, which suffers from out-of-control anger, mean-spirited rhetoric and frequent violent behavior.
I hear and see reports road rage, air-flight rage, terrorist attacks, racial unrest, religious quarreling, hateful political rhetorical, all-time high spousal abuse and divorce. We have all types of hate crimes. Add to those disturbing realities a world filled with uncertainties. There is ongoing conflicts in Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, Venezuela and the never-ending turmoil between Israel and Palestine. That said, step back and attempt to wrap your head around these facts: 29-African countries are currently in conflicts with over 200 militias, guerrillas and other groups fighting. Europe finds 10-nations at war counting 81-different conflicts. Seven Middle East countries currently have wars with no fewer than 250-groups involved. The America's are not exempt. The America's have 6-countries fighting. Most of these conflicts are over 'drugs.' Here in our own America where we poltificate 'the greatest nation on earth,' we elect leaders from two political party's who refuse to cooperate with each other for 'the good of the order' and in the best interest of our people. How sad that in this 'so-called' Christian Nation greed and power comes before caring love.
The 24/7 cable news reporting of such negative and depressing information takes a psychological toll on people of the world. I believe it is important that we Americans NOT process this wrenching news through a self-centered filter. If nothing else, try to put yourself in the shoes of a mother and father who find themselves defined as refugees through no fault of their own. They are running for their lives, looking for food and shelter...their biggest problem of the day IS NOT arranging carpooling for their kids' soccer practice.
Perhaps for our own sanity, we need to seek and complete at least one weekly 'pay-it-forward act of kindness.'
(Touch)
Let it begin with me.
I hear and see reports road rage, air-flight rage, terrorist attacks, racial unrest, religious quarreling, hateful political rhetorical, all-time high spousal abuse and divorce. We have all types of hate crimes. Add to those disturbing realities a world filled with uncertainties. There is ongoing conflicts in Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, Venezuela and the never-ending turmoil between Israel and Palestine. That said, step back and attempt to wrap your head around these facts: 29-African countries are currently in conflicts with over 200 militias, guerrillas and other groups fighting. Europe finds 10-nations at war counting 81-different conflicts. Seven Middle East countries currently have wars with no fewer than 250-groups involved. The America's are not exempt. The America's have 6-countries fighting. Most of these conflicts are over 'drugs.' Here in our own America where we poltificate 'the greatest nation on earth,' we elect leaders from two political party's who refuse to cooperate with each other for 'the good of the order' and in the best interest of our people. How sad that in this 'so-called' Christian Nation greed and power comes before caring love.
The 24/7 cable news reporting of such negative and depressing information takes a psychological toll on people of the world. I believe it is important that we Americans NOT process this wrenching news through a self-centered filter. If nothing else, try to put yourself in the shoes of a mother and father who find themselves defined as refugees through no fault of their own. They are running for their lives, looking for food and shelter...their biggest problem of the day IS NOT arranging carpooling for their kids' soccer practice.
Perhaps for our own sanity, we need to seek and complete at least one weekly 'pay-it-forward act of kindness.'
(Touch)
Let it begin with me.
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Take a Moment...Share a Moment
Several years ago leaving a Metro-East (Illinois) nursing home after a visit with my father's sister, I passed by an elderly gentleman's room and noticed him waving at me. He spoke but I did not hear his comment. During my drive home, I thought next time I visit my Aunt, I'm going to stop by that old man's room. Three or four weeks later I walked down that nursing home hallway. I looked in the old gent's room only to note a new tenant...he had died. To this day, I still could 'kick myself.' Perhaps the old man wanted to tell me where he buried his gold. Maybe he wanted me to pray for him. And then again, just perhaps my Lord wished for me to witness. Shame on me. I ask forgiveness. Later that evening, I penned this poem...
LIFE'S WAY
He lifted his head to share our glance,
Surely our eyes met by chance.
My pace quickened past his door,
I thought my mission held much more.
Perhaps had we spoken a word or two,
His fading Day would seem less blue.
A story, a tale perhaps be told,
If those memories would unfold.
Maybe he recalled those days gone bye,
Those days when he too was on the fly.
No need to mark the passing days,
Meaningless tomorrow's but a haze.
Find a sweetheart, begin a life,
Provide for children and a wife.
Climb the ladder, etch that name,
Accomplish all, grab the fame.
Children leave seeking things,
Beware life's impending stings.
Joy in grandchildren breath new life,
Deadening those senses to aging strife.
Abilities/agility's once matter-of-fact,
Quickly fade, no longer in tact.
Whispers of my future made All so sad,
They try to decide what's best for Dad.
Yesterday's spent and here by no choice,
Patiently he waits his Master's voice.
Resolved at ease with peace of mind,
Soon he leaves for those behind.
(Touch)
Old Man
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=l0ESDWQNrpo
LIFE'S WAY
He lifted his head to share our glance,
Surely our eyes met by chance.
My pace quickened past his door,
I thought my mission held much more.
Perhaps had we spoken a word or two,
His fading Day would seem less blue.
A story, a tale perhaps be told,
If those memories would unfold.
Maybe he recalled those days gone bye,
Those days when he too was on the fly.
No need to mark the passing days,
Meaningless tomorrow's but a haze.
Find a sweetheart, begin a life,
Provide for children and a wife.
Climb the ladder, etch that name,
Accomplish all, grab the fame.
Children leave seeking things,
Beware life's impending stings.
Joy in grandchildren breath new life,
Deadening those senses to aging strife.
Abilities/agility's once matter-of-fact,
Quickly fade, no longer in tact.
Whispers of my future made All so sad,
They try to decide what's best for Dad.
Yesterday's spent and here by no choice,
Patiently he waits his Master's voice.
Resolved at ease with peace of mind,
Soon he leaves for those behind.
(Touch)
Old Man
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=l0ESDWQNrpo
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Thank you, Blog Readers
Yesterday, I posted a recollection of a young boy that I knew in my first year of high school coaching in 1962-63. The young seventeen year old senior was Joe Smith of Assumption, Illinois. I shared his story because Joe's 'story' always remained in my mind and heart these past 46 years. Perhaps you can relate because there is some thing in your past relationships that remained unfinished, incomplete and/or 'stuck in your gut.' Well, Joe's tough break being denied his senior football season was hurtful but his tragic death serving our nation during the Vietnam War was devastating to his mother and the small close knit rural community, Joe called home.
The joy so many felt when Joe's remains were identified was unbelievable. Therefore, I told you 'the story.' Now, let me tell you this: My daily blog readership number averages 217 readers. Yesterday, 1,437 readers plugged into and read The Joe Smith blog. From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank all that not only read the story but who obviously used some form of social-media to tell others to check it out.
I believe with all my heart that Joe Smith's giving spirit lives and was perpetuated through your kind caring help. Joe again made a contribution.
God bless you and a young man's memory.
The joy so many felt when Joe's remains were identified was unbelievable. Therefore, I told you 'the story.' Now, let me tell you this: My daily blog readership number averages 217 readers. Yesterday, 1,437 readers plugged into and read The Joe Smith blog. From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank all that not only read the story but who obviously used some form of social-media to tell others to check it out.
I believe with all my heart that Joe Smith's giving spirit lives and was perpetuated through your kind caring help. Joe again made a contribution.
God bless you and a young man's memory.
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
A Hero
It was a hot August afternoon in the rural community of Assumption, Illinois. The year was 1962 and it was my first of thirty-nine coaching years. In that inaugural teaching/coaching journey, I was assisting in football and basketball while serving as head baseball coach.
We were about two weeks into football practice and the anticipation for a good season was high in that football crazy town. A number of veterans returned and a strong junior class would compliment. One of the top players was absent from practice this day. Co-Captain, tight-end, Joe Smith was seeing an orthopedic specialist in Decatur for a consultation regarding a large swollen bump on his upper right arm (humerus bone). Joe figured to be a force for the 'Comets.' As the players were completing their stretching and warm-up routine, Joe was seen walking towards the field. When Joe got within facial view of the coaches, I could tell the news from the doctor was not good. Joe had tears in his eyes as he spoke to the head coach. The diagnosis 'severe calcium deposit with potential serious complications if not given complete rest.' Translation? No physical contact. No senior football season for Joe Smith. He was crushed as he spoke these words, "All I wanted to do was to make a contribution."
Joe was an excellent academic student, a National Honor Society member and President of his senior class. He comported himself with a maturity far exceeding his teen years. He had a terrific personality supported by a kind smile and a wonderful sense of humor.
Joe finished his senior year and left that small farming community to attend the University of Notre Dame. I left Assumption after two years to assume varsity basketball and baseball coaching duties at Mason City high school (Illinois). Some ten years later, I was invited back to Assumption for a reunion. My wife and I arrived at the dinner affair just in time to be ushered to our seats. After the invocation, I was reading through the evening's program and suddenly that sick feeling;
"In Memory of Captain Joseph 'Joe' Smith." Joe Smith age 25, had his F-100 Super Sabre fighter jet shot out of the Cambodia skies during the Vietnam War. At that moment, I felt some burning in my eyes as tears begged for release. That evening continued and sharing laughter ruled the night...but always I hurt for the young boy who just wanted to 'serve the cause. I also hurt for his mother who went to her grave never knowing the whereabouts of her missing in action son.
Yesterday, I went to Assumption. Eight miles from my destination, I began to notice large American flags posted along Route 51...thousands of American flags! The little town of 1350 folks was bursting at the seams that day to celebrate a Hero's Homecoming. Forty-six years after his death, the remains of Air Force Captain Joe Smith was laid to rest beside his mother and father. Standing in the cemetery, I heard the faint sound of Taps being played in a far off distance. My thoughts? 'All he wanted to do was to make a contribution.' Joe made the ultimate contribution. This time I let my tears have their way.
They say that a coach touches the lives of many boys he mentors; some times the boy touches the coach's life.
(Touch)
Fallen Hero
We were about two weeks into football practice and the anticipation for a good season was high in that football crazy town. A number of veterans returned and a strong junior class would compliment. One of the top players was absent from practice this day. Co-Captain, tight-end, Joe Smith was seeing an orthopedic specialist in Decatur for a consultation regarding a large swollen bump on his upper right arm (humerus bone). Joe figured to be a force for the 'Comets.' As the players were completing their stretching and warm-up routine, Joe was seen walking towards the field. When Joe got within facial view of the coaches, I could tell the news from the doctor was not good. Joe had tears in his eyes as he spoke to the head coach. The diagnosis 'severe calcium deposit with potential serious complications if not given complete rest.' Translation? No physical contact. No senior football season for Joe Smith. He was crushed as he spoke these words, "All I wanted to do was to make a contribution."
Joe was an excellent academic student, a National Honor Society member and President of his senior class. He comported himself with a maturity far exceeding his teen years. He had a terrific personality supported by a kind smile and a wonderful sense of humor.
Joe finished his senior year and left that small farming community to attend the University of Notre Dame. I left Assumption after two years to assume varsity basketball and baseball coaching duties at Mason City high school (Illinois). Some ten years later, I was invited back to Assumption for a reunion. My wife and I arrived at the dinner affair just in time to be ushered to our seats. After the invocation, I was reading through the evening's program and suddenly that sick feeling;
"In Memory of Captain Joseph 'Joe' Smith." Joe Smith age 25, had his F-100 Super Sabre fighter jet shot out of the Cambodia skies during the Vietnam War. At that moment, I felt some burning in my eyes as tears begged for release. That evening continued and sharing laughter ruled the night...but always I hurt for the young boy who just wanted to 'serve the cause. I also hurt for his mother who went to her grave never knowing the whereabouts of her missing in action son.
Yesterday, I went to Assumption. Eight miles from my destination, I began to notice large American flags posted along Route 51...thousands of American flags! The little town of 1350 folks was bursting at the seams that day to celebrate a Hero's Homecoming. Forty-six years after his death, the remains of Air Force Captain Joe Smith was laid to rest beside his mother and father. Standing in the cemetery, I heard the faint sound of Taps being played in a far off distance. My thoughts? 'All he wanted to do was to make a contribution.' Joe made the ultimate contribution. This time I let my tears have their way.
They say that a coach touches the lives of many boys he mentors; some times the boy touches the coach's life.
(Touch)
Fallen Hero
Monday, July 17, 2017
Me NOW! ME!
The easiest thing in the world to do is criticize. I plead guilty and you are likely standing next to me. How about that? Even in my guilt confession, I found an avenue to point a 'critical' finger at YOU. That said, I speak with experience when I tell you that the older you become the greater is the tendency to criticize others, especially the younger generation. Now that I have established reasons for you readers to refute that which I am prepared to declare, I shall declare it anyway. Those generations coming behind me are self-centered and impatient. There, I've said it. I am now the 'old-codger...bitching.'
Follow this old man's logic. Illinois' interstate speed limit is now 70mph.Years ago, I asked a neighborhood friend, who was a State Trooper, what speed limit maximum would pass before I'd likely be ticketed...he said no more than 7-miles over the posted limit. Therefore, I set my cruise-control on 77mph. Last week driving to St. Louis, I could not keep count of the number of drivers who'd run up on my rear bumper then pass at speeds well over 80mph. Auto drivers' today are 'fools.'...impatient fools! I'm told to 'Start Seeing Motorcycles.' That's a good idea because most motorcyclist are not 'seeing me' as they dodge through traffic going from lane to lane. Most riders wearing no helmet while I must be strapped in by a seat belt and protected by an airbag.
Many of my grandchildren are like others their age...they don't wish to wait for anything. They want a cell phone far too early in life, they want their own space, their own food, their own auto and everything that brings instant gratification.
There! I feel much better after that rant. Now, here is my warning to that younger crowd: Slow down and be more considerate and enjoy because you ain't seen anything like the 'impatients' your going to have when you become a senior old-codger...doin' the bitching.
(Touch)
Feelin Groovy
Follow this old man's logic. Illinois' interstate speed limit is now 70mph.Years ago, I asked a neighborhood friend, who was a State Trooper, what speed limit maximum would pass before I'd likely be ticketed...he said no more than 7-miles over the posted limit. Therefore, I set my cruise-control on 77mph. Last week driving to St. Louis, I could not keep count of the number of drivers who'd run up on my rear bumper then pass at speeds well over 80mph. Auto drivers' today are 'fools.'...impatient fools! I'm told to 'Start Seeing Motorcycles.' That's a good idea because most motorcyclist are not 'seeing me' as they dodge through traffic going from lane to lane. Most riders wearing no helmet while I must be strapped in by a seat belt and protected by an airbag.
Many of my grandchildren are like others their age...they don't wish to wait for anything. They want a cell phone far too early in life, they want their own space, their own food, their own auto and everything that brings instant gratification.
There! I feel much better after that rant. Now, here is my warning to that younger crowd: Slow down and be more considerate and enjoy because you ain't seen anything like the 'impatients' your going to have when you become a senior old-codger...doin' the bitching.
(Touch)
Feelin Groovy
Friday, July 14, 2017
Makes a Fella Ponder
I'm not convinced that which we claim as progress has always made life easier. I remember back in the 1940's, my grandmother, Mary (Mammy) Bennett operated a neighborhood grocery store that Grandpa E.V. Bennett had built along with adjacent rental property. E.V. did not work in the store. Grandpa E.V. had more pressing things to do...like whittle and ponder. One should not confuse whittling with carving. A carver has some image in mind as he removes chips & slices of wood from a block. A whittler, on the other hand has absolutely nothing in mind as he runs his trusty pocketknife across a twig or block of wood. Actually, most whittlers want their mind free so they can 'ponder.' Grandpa E.V. was a master whittler and a seasoned ponderer.
One little whittle moment E. V. engaged was whittling Mammy's soft-lead pencils to a precise point desired. Mammy kept individual receipt books on every customer who shopped her store. Some patrons paid cash immediately while others due to financial restraints 'ran a balance.' If Mammy discovered a family had 'hard circumstances,' she'd absorb a loss and tell the customer to one day help others when they could. (Note: This was of my early Christ-like teachings). I can close my eyes today and 'see' Mammy take one of those receipt booklets out from under the counter, turn to a page and lick the point of that soft-lead pencil before entering a payment made.
Last week, I was at a Church youth meeting and noticed a young teen boy on crutches. The crutches had no rubber tips at the end. The crutches would mark up floors to be sure and posed a slipping danger to the lad. I went to Ace Hardware and bought four crutch-tips. Two were 7/8" size and two were 1" size. I knew one pair would fit and thus I'd take the other pair back for a refund. That's what I did last Saturday. I was 15-minutes there speaking to three different managers as they finally figured out that the reason my return item code did nit jive with my receipt was due to the cashier scanning the item code I kept and then just hitting the Times 4-key.
I then went to County Market were my purchase totaled $25.06. I wrote a check. The young cashier put the Check into a machine and that machine immediately mutilated the check. I stood in that line for 11-minutes and watched two different managers attempt to enter various numbers to complete a sales process.
In both instances, I stood patiently...but y'all don't want to know what I was 'pondering!'
(Touch)
Things Gone Crazy
One little whittle moment E. V. engaged was whittling Mammy's soft-lead pencils to a precise point desired. Mammy kept individual receipt books on every customer who shopped her store. Some patrons paid cash immediately while others due to financial restraints 'ran a balance.' If Mammy discovered a family had 'hard circumstances,' she'd absorb a loss and tell the customer to one day help others when they could. (Note: This was of my early Christ-like teachings). I can close my eyes today and 'see' Mammy take one of those receipt booklets out from under the counter, turn to a page and lick the point of that soft-lead pencil before entering a payment made.
Last week, I was at a Church youth meeting and noticed a young teen boy on crutches. The crutches had no rubber tips at the end. The crutches would mark up floors to be sure and posed a slipping danger to the lad. I went to Ace Hardware and bought four crutch-tips. Two were 7/8" size and two were 1" size. I knew one pair would fit and thus I'd take the other pair back for a refund. That's what I did last Saturday. I was 15-minutes there speaking to three different managers as they finally figured out that the reason my return item code did nit jive with my receipt was due to the cashier scanning the item code I kept and then just hitting the Times 4-key.
I then went to County Market were my purchase totaled $25.06. I wrote a check. The young cashier put the Check into a machine and that machine immediately mutilated the check. I stood in that line for 11-minutes and watched two different managers attempt to enter various numbers to complete a sales process.
In both instances, I stood patiently...but y'all don't want to know what I was 'pondering!'
(Touch)
Things Gone Crazy
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Just Walking Around
I noticed my grandchildren growing up were much like others during their adolescent years, in so far as they didn't and still don't walk anywhere at night. I suppose the safety factor is the deal-breaker.
I remember my own adolescent years and we walked everywhere day and/or night. Well actually, we boys walked and hitchhiked. I 'thumbed' many rides to my little league games ages 11-to-15. I never see young boys in baseball uniforms hitchhiking and given today's precarious social climate, I would advise against the practice.
I recall my adolescent summertime Friday nights when the pre-driving teens took the city bus or walked to local hangouts and neighborhood theaters. Of course, we found trouble at times. It was always fun to find a tavern with a bathroom window, which allowed us to fill water-balloons and then wait for a city bus to 'blast.' Actually, I felt sorry for the driver who opened the door for a bogus passenger only to get hammered with those water-bombs...but hey, gotta yield to peer pressure, right?
Finally, several of us boys began walking girls home from the theater, which helped tame our uncivilized behavior. Once that sixteenth Birthday arrived, we walked less and found different hangouts. Care to guess how many guys you can get into the trunk of a 1950 Bel Aire Chevy? The answer is four. However, you must not breath heavy as the driver negotiates through the French Village Drive Inn movie entrance.
(Touch)
I Wanna Walk You Home
I remember my own adolescent years and we walked everywhere day and/or night. Well actually, we boys walked and hitchhiked. I 'thumbed' many rides to my little league games ages 11-to-15. I never see young boys in baseball uniforms hitchhiking and given today's precarious social climate, I would advise against the practice.
I recall my adolescent summertime Friday nights when the pre-driving teens took the city bus or walked to local hangouts and neighborhood theaters. Of course, we found trouble at times. It was always fun to find a tavern with a bathroom window, which allowed us to fill water-balloons and then wait for a city bus to 'blast.' Actually, I felt sorry for the driver who opened the door for a bogus passenger only to get hammered with those water-bombs...but hey, gotta yield to peer pressure, right?
Finally, several of us boys began walking girls home from the theater, which helped tame our uncivilized behavior. Once that sixteenth Birthday arrived, we walked less and found different hangouts. Care to guess how many guys you can get into the trunk of a 1950 Bel Aire Chevy? The answer is four. However, you must not breath heavy as the driver negotiates through the French Village Drive Inn movie entrance.
(Touch)
I Wanna Walk You Home
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
They Remain Our Stars
A few years ago and for several years, my wife and I were into antique shopping. She was on a decorative tea pot mission and I was collecting vinyl records...LP's and 45's. I suppose we 'petered out' when China cabinets filled. The 'bug' lies dormant evidently based on the fact that we often watch that television show, American Pickers.
A few weeks past, while watching one of those American Pickers' episode, I noticed some various size metal stars. These metal stars had been painted 'gold.' Instantly, I thought of the World War II days. I was a lad of five and six. My father was serving in WWII and a lot of other East St. Louis families had dads, brothers and sons in that combat. I knew this because I asked questions about all the red-White & blue flags and banners. Those colors were on homes and local businesses. I also remember asking why we had a 'White' Star in our front window. The explanations gave me my first insight into patriotism.
I was told that the 'White Star' in widows indicated that a family member from that house was serving in the Armed Forces. I got a sick feeling in my stomach when my inquiry about the 'Gold Star' was answered. That 'Gold Star' meant that a family member from THAT house had been killed in the war. Oh, my God how I fought sleep at times worrying about that. I was always checking our 'White Star.' Once in awhile I would see those Gold Stars in the city and it was always framed in some fashion with 'black.' I felt so badly for those families and worried so much about my Dad.
So much heartache and so much angst for those waiting, praying and hoping.
(Touch)
Till Then
A few weeks past, while watching one of those American Pickers' episode, I noticed some various size metal stars. These metal stars had been painted 'gold.' Instantly, I thought of the World War II days. I was a lad of five and six. My father was serving in WWII and a lot of other East St. Louis families had dads, brothers and sons in that combat. I knew this because I asked questions about all the red-White & blue flags and banners. Those colors were on homes and local businesses. I also remember asking why we had a 'White' Star in our front window. The explanations gave me my first insight into patriotism.
I was told that the 'White Star' in widows indicated that a family member from that house was serving in the Armed Forces. I got a sick feeling in my stomach when my inquiry about the 'Gold Star' was answered. That 'Gold Star' meant that a family member from THAT house had been killed in the war. Oh, my God how I fought sleep at times worrying about that. I was always checking our 'White Star.' Once in awhile I would see those Gold Stars in the city and it was always framed in some fashion with 'black.' I felt so badly for those families and worried so much about my Dad.
So much heartache and so much angst for those waiting, praying and hoping.
(Touch)
Till Then
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
Getting it Right
From 1970-through-1981, I umpired high school and college baseball. Undoubdtedly, I did so for three reasons: (1) I had been a baseball pitcher for years, (2) I needed to supplement my income and (3) I knew I was good calling the strike zone. The last reason should not be construed as immodest. All people gravitate to activities they believe they do well; it's our nature.
Baseball, normally moves at a slow pace with a somewhat predictable cadence, however crazy mind boggling plays can erupt leaving fans, players and umpires trying to digest what happened. As an umpire you study and prepare for the unexpected but at times there arises a need to confer with other umpires so 'we get the CALL right.' Traditionally, umpires/officials of football, basketball, baseball and tennis made a 'call' and right or wrong everybody had to live with it. Today, we note the 'video review' of plays now attempts to insure 'getting it correct.'
While professional sports evolved towards the philosophy of >>'Its more important for the integrity of the game to GET IT RIGHT vs. BEING RIGHT,' our political lawmakers moved more towards a governing philosophy of 'our party is omnipotent (always right) vs. the other party (always) has it wrong.' And make no mistake Democrats and Republicans are equally at fault with such a bull-headed asinine posturing. Case in point: There are some good elements in Obamacare and there are some bad aspects in Obamacare. Would it not be reasonable to fix the bad and 'get it right?'
Of course, as an umpire I did not have lobbyist waving dollar-bills at me in the attempt to favor some group with a dishonorable call. Unfortunately, a politician's greed gets in the way of 'getting it right.'
Country for Sale or Rent?
(Touch)
Country for Sale or Rent
Baseball, normally moves at a slow pace with a somewhat predictable cadence, however crazy mind boggling plays can erupt leaving fans, players and umpires trying to digest what happened. As an umpire you study and prepare for the unexpected but at times there arises a need to confer with other umpires so 'we get the CALL right.' Traditionally, umpires/officials of football, basketball, baseball and tennis made a 'call' and right or wrong everybody had to live with it. Today, we note the 'video review' of plays now attempts to insure 'getting it correct.'
While professional sports evolved towards the philosophy of >>'Its more important for the integrity of the game to GET IT RIGHT vs. BEING RIGHT,' our political lawmakers moved more towards a governing philosophy of 'our party is omnipotent (always right) vs. the other party (always) has it wrong.' And make no mistake Democrats and Republicans are equally at fault with such a bull-headed asinine posturing. Case in point: There are some good elements in Obamacare and there are some bad aspects in Obamacare. Would it not be reasonable to fix the bad and 'get it right?'
Of course, as an umpire I did not have lobbyist waving dollar-bills at me in the attempt to favor some group with a dishonorable call. Unfortunately, a politician's greed gets in the way of 'getting it right.'
Country for Sale or Rent?
(Touch)
Country for Sale or Rent
Monday, July 10, 2017
Show Up & Clock-In
I recall my father missing work on three occasions: (1) age 26, he was drafted into the US Army to serve in WWII (2) age 41, he had major back surgery and (3) age 54, he had a major heart attack.
My wife's father missed work one time at age 54, he was taken to the hospital and died with loss of blood from a bleeding stomach ulcer.
I grew up in a time period when folks simply did NOT miss work easily. I even recall the 1940 & 1950's sports teams seemed to have the same players penciled in the staring lineups day after day, game after game. Those baseball players back then played Day and night games, double-headers and traveled by train and bus from city to city. You did not hear of players being on the disabled list very often. You memorized the lineup because it was always the same...Del Rice (catcher), Nippy Jones (first base), Red Schoendient (second), Whitey Kurowski (third), Marty Marion (SS), and outfielders Musial, Moore and Slaughter. Go the Keil Auditorium in the 1950's to see the Hawks vs. Celtics and it was Russell, Cousy, Sharman, Heinshon and Loscutoff facing the Hawks lineup of Pettit, Hagen, Hannum, Martin and Macauley.
These days, my St. Louis Cardinals always have three or four players disabled and in-spite of their million dollar contracts, they travel first class airlines, stay in the finest hotels and have smorgasbord in their plush clubhouse and yet those young well honed athletic men often need a day of rest so the 162- work days won't physically break them down. Please don't tell me how hard they train. They are playing a game, which they have played since they were eight years old.
Aside from professional golfers, tennis players, swimmers and race car drivers, MLB players are the laziest and generally speaking, most conceited sport prima donnas.
(Touch)
Proud Workers
My wife's father missed work one time at age 54, he was taken to the hospital and died with loss of blood from a bleeding stomach ulcer.
I grew up in a time period when folks simply did NOT miss work easily. I even recall the 1940 & 1950's sports teams seemed to have the same players penciled in the staring lineups day after day, game after game. Those baseball players back then played Day and night games, double-headers and traveled by train and bus from city to city. You did not hear of players being on the disabled list very often. You memorized the lineup because it was always the same...Del Rice (catcher), Nippy Jones (first base), Red Schoendient (second), Whitey Kurowski (third), Marty Marion (SS), and outfielders Musial, Moore and Slaughter. Go the Keil Auditorium in the 1950's to see the Hawks vs. Celtics and it was Russell, Cousy, Sharman, Heinshon and Loscutoff facing the Hawks lineup of Pettit, Hagen, Hannum, Martin and Macauley.
These days, my St. Louis Cardinals always have three or four players disabled and in-spite of their million dollar contracts, they travel first class airlines, stay in the finest hotels and have smorgasbord in their plush clubhouse and yet those young well honed athletic men often need a day of rest so the 162- work days won't physically break them down. Please don't tell me how hard they train. They are playing a game, which they have played since they were eight years old.
Aside from professional golfers, tennis players, swimmers and race car drivers, MLB players are the laziest and generally speaking, most conceited sport prima donnas.
(Touch)
Proud Workers
Only A Fool Buys It
Regardless of one's political persuasion, there is cause for anxiety and worry when elected government leaders deny and/or attack factual reality. In this 21st century America, we certainly can document a society that has steadily moved towards a more self-serving narcissistic personal-comfort zone for self-assurance. Structuring one's own 'alternative facts' to anchor one's untrue beliefs to serve a 'slanted cause' feeds dangerous propaganda. The dismissal of facts cultivates a social environment that nudges a younger generation to accept error and wrong as acceptable IF it serves the personal need. To hell with 'the good of the order.'
Our President denies any scientific evidence of global warming and our President rejects our nation's own intelligence findings regarding Russian hacking our 2016 election. President Trump wishes to assure Americans that he discussed impenetrable cyber security units with Putin to safeguard against future election hacking. That said, you rural farmers might consider getting the 'Fox to guard your hen house.'
(Touch)
Fool # 1
Our President denies any scientific evidence of global warming and our President rejects our nation's own intelligence findings regarding Russian hacking our 2016 election. President Trump wishes to assure Americans that he discussed impenetrable cyber security units with Putin to safeguard against future election hacking. That said, you rural farmers might consider getting the 'Fox to guard your hen house.'
(Touch)
Fool # 1
Sunday, July 9, 2017
Subliminal Lesson
A friend gave me four infield box-seat tickets for the Miami /Cardinals' afternoon game this past Thursday. The plan was to meet grandson, Caleb and his friend Nick at the Musial statue between 12:15 and 12:30. The two-hour drive from Decatur after early must-do errands had me bookin-it at about 78mph. Pinched for time, I had no alternative but to park in a nearby stadium garage for the ridiculous cost of $30.
As I walked towards 'The Man,' thoughts about an incident of days-gone-by flashed through my mind. The year was 1952. My father and I were arriving at Sportsman's Park to watch batting practice and infield practice before the Cardinals' game. (That's correct, there was a time the gates opened early so fans, especially young fans, could watch their favorites in clinic-demonstration skills' display. No longer is that baseball-extra offered due to added cost having stadium workers to report earlier. Never mind the fact that ownership doesn't blink an eye charging $6.00 for a Coke.)
Dad often parked on the street or at some nearby resident's yard where the charge might be $2.00. On this day, Dad spotted a small vacant lot and parked next o three other cars already parked. As we exited the car a good size young man in his early twenties approached the car and spoke. He explained that he did NOT own the vacant lot but since he lived adjacent to it he would keep an eye on our car so it won't get damaged while we were at the game. He said it would cost $2.00 for his service.
I knew instantly what was about to happen. My father was not a person who looked for trouble. He was a very personable guy who generally liked people. Actually, I'm convinced that had that young man said he was in need of a couple of bucks, my dad would have given him the money. But there was no way in hell that the old man was going to be bullied or intimidated. This was a man who grew up in a tough engironment and soldiered under General Patton in France during WWII. He did not arrive at this point in his journey to be a 'shakedown victim.' Looking point blank into the young man's eyes, my father spoke, "Let me tell you something boy. I'm not giving you one penny to watch my car. But when I come back, I'm going to checkout this car and if I find one scratch on it, I'm going to give you an ass whippin you'll not soon forget." He then turned and walked towards the stadium. Periodically during the ball game, I whispered a prayer, "Please Dear God, let there be no damages to our car." When we returned to the parked car, Dad made a once around assessment and said, "Looks okay, get in the car...no other mention on the drive home...only baseball talk.
(Touch)
Don't Mess with the Man
As I walked towards 'The Man,' thoughts about an incident of days-gone-by flashed through my mind. The year was 1952. My father and I were arriving at Sportsman's Park to watch batting practice and infield practice before the Cardinals' game. (That's correct, there was a time the gates opened early so fans, especially young fans, could watch their favorites in clinic-demonstration skills' display. No longer is that baseball-extra offered due to added cost having stadium workers to report earlier. Never mind the fact that ownership doesn't blink an eye charging $6.00 for a Coke.)
Dad often parked on the street or at some nearby resident's yard where the charge might be $2.00. On this day, Dad spotted a small vacant lot and parked next o three other cars already parked. As we exited the car a good size young man in his early twenties approached the car and spoke. He explained that he did NOT own the vacant lot but since he lived adjacent to it he would keep an eye on our car so it won't get damaged while we were at the game. He said it would cost $2.00 for his service.
I knew instantly what was about to happen. My father was not a person who looked for trouble. He was a very personable guy who generally liked people. Actually, I'm convinced that had that young man said he was in need of a couple of bucks, my dad would have given him the money. But there was no way in hell that the old man was going to be bullied or intimidated. This was a man who grew up in a tough engironment and soldiered under General Patton in France during WWII. He did not arrive at this point in his journey to be a 'shakedown victim.' Looking point blank into the young man's eyes, my father spoke, "Let me tell you something boy. I'm not giving you one penny to watch my car. But when I come back, I'm going to checkout this car and if I find one scratch on it, I'm going to give you an ass whippin you'll not soon forget." He then turned and walked towards the stadium. Periodically during the ball game, I whispered a prayer, "Please Dear God, let there be no damages to our car." When we returned to the parked car, Dad made a once around assessment and said, "Looks okay, get in the car...no other mention on the drive home...only baseball talk.
(Touch)
Don't Mess with the Man
Friday, July 7, 2017
Some Change Good; Some Not So Good
I suppose I heard the messages about the same time in my young life...probably at age six. The messages? (1) "Children are to be seen and not heard." and (2) "THEY need to stay in THEIR Place."
The year was 1945, in mid-America. Parents did not live vicariously through the actions of their kids although those parents appeared to fear negative judgment of their parenting skills if a child demonstrated bad or unacceptable public behavior. I recall adult family members telling me prior to adult guests arriving at our home that I was to be seen and not talk unless answering an adults question. I was to say 'excuse me,' 'thank you' and other appropriate terms of etiquette. That's just the way it was and I adhered to the directive.
The second message of the times (1940's) was in reference to Negroes. (Note: The terms 'Blacks' and 'African-Americans' were not popular when identifying those of the Negro race. Actually, the terms acceptable in the 1940's were 'Negroes' and 'Colored.') Of course, just as is the case today, there were several disparaging names hurled at our Black brothers and sisters as there was for Hispanics, Polish, Italians, Jews, Puerto Ricans and Irish. Okay, this is where that second message was born. Often times, I heard white folks say, "THEY belong in THEIR place." One knew the reference> 'THEY' were people of color and 'THEIR PLACE' was not in the white man's space. What puzzled me was trying to understand why 'they' (people of color) had some place but white people had any and all places to be sure.
There was a similar attitude about women during that time. Many people were appalled that women would dare compete with a man for a job. The contemporary thinking was 'a woman's place' is in the home taking care of household needs and raising kids.
Today, we can celebrate more logical, moral and constitutionally correct thinking. That said, we dare not suggest that the all is perfectly okay...intolerance remains America's Achilles heel.
Regarding children today being seen and not heard...well buddy boy, 'THAT horse left the barn!'
(Touch)
Changin' Times
The year was 1945, in mid-America. Parents did not live vicariously through the actions of their kids although those parents appeared to fear negative judgment of their parenting skills if a child demonstrated bad or unacceptable public behavior. I recall adult family members telling me prior to adult guests arriving at our home that I was to be seen and not talk unless answering an adults question. I was to say 'excuse me,' 'thank you' and other appropriate terms of etiquette. That's just the way it was and I adhered to the directive.
The second message of the times (1940's) was in reference to Negroes. (Note: The terms 'Blacks' and 'African-Americans' were not popular when identifying those of the Negro race. Actually, the terms acceptable in the 1940's were 'Negroes' and 'Colored.') Of course, just as is the case today, there were several disparaging names hurled at our Black brothers and sisters as there was for Hispanics, Polish, Italians, Jews, Puerto Ricans and Irish. Okay, this is where that second message was born. Often times, I heard white folks say, "THEY belong in THEIR place." One knew the reference> 'THEY' were people of color and 'THEIR PLACE' was not in the white man's space. What puzzled me was trying to understand why 'they' (people of color) had some place but white people had any and all places to be sure.
There was a similar attitude about women during that time. Many people were appalled that women would dare compete with a man for a job. The contemporary thinking was 'a woman's place' is in the home taking care of household needs and raising kids.
Today, we can celebrate more logical, moral and constitutionally correct thinking. That said, we dare not suggest that the all is perfectly okay...intolerance remains America's Achilles heel.
Regarding children today being seen and not heard...well buddy boy, 'THAT horse left the barn!'
(Touch)
Changin' Times
Thursday, July 6, 2017
Admired the Man
In a recent reflective self-examination, I concluded that I have admired others but never envied anybody. As a kid growing up in blue-collar, industrial East St. Louis, I noticed some kids had more 'stuff' than me while some 'kids' had less than me. That's as far as it went...I 'noticed,' however it didn't move my social or personal needle!
I don't think this attitude happened by chance. My parents loved me therefore, I felt secure. My parents didn't worship me therefore, I did not feel privileged. My parents, especially my father, constantly pushed me to not be content always patting myself on the back. I recall him saying, "You do know others have done what you have done and some have done more." Living in that kind of environment leaves little time to embrace envy..."take care of your business, boy."
Admiration for others was a different matter. I found it good and well serving as a blueprint to 'admire' characteristics of others. I recall one particular individual, outside the family for whom I held great admiration. His name was Ray Sonnenberg. Sonnenberg was a outstanding basketball player at Collinsville high school in the late 1940's and later played college basketball for Saint Louis University. He also became a most reputable NFL official and before that he was the East St. Louis YMCA Director in the mid 1950's. It was in that 'Y' directorship role that I met Ray Sonnenberg.
It was the summer before my senior year at East St. Louis high school when Ray Sonnenberg hired . me and another East Side student-athlete, Steve Blackwell. Steve and I were from different parts of the city but we had become tight friends through our teammate associations in baseball and basketball. As junior day-camp counselors, Steve and I worked closely under the supervision of Ray and another adult counselor helping young kids in a variety of activities.
Ray Sonnenberg's leadership style was distinct. He was most personable but spoke directly and poignantly regarding rules and expectations. Each of the some fifty kids in the YMCA Day Camp seemed to be special to Ray. That was the first time I noticed Ray's ability to engage every kid in a one on one conversation and ask meaningful questions, which caused the youngster to feel comfortable and safe enough to share. Many years later, I would see Ray at events and his demeanor had not changed. He would stop what he was doing and while looking directly into my face he would not only ask about my life's journey but inquire about my different family members. Ray Sonnenberg's focus was always on others and he wanted the particulars. He was genuine. I have always 'admired' that caring characteristic.
(Touch)
Thanks for being a friend
I don't think this attitude happened by chance. My parents loved me therefore, I felt secure. My parents didn't worship me therefore, I did not feel privileged. My parents, especially my father, constantly pushed me to not be content always patting myself on the back. I recall him saying, "You do know others have done what you have done and some have done more." Living in that kind of environment leaves little time to embrace envy..."take care of your business, boy."
Admiration for others was a different matter. I found it good and well serving as a blueprint to 'admire' characteristics of others. I recall one particular individual, outside the family for whom I held great admiration. His name was Ray Sonnenberg. Sonnenberg was a outstanding basketball player at Collinsville high school in the late 1940's and later played college basketball for Saint Louis University. He also became a most reputable NFL official and before that he was the East St. Louis YMCA Director in the mid 1950's. It was in that 'Y' directorship role that I met Ray Sonnenberg.
It was the summer before my senior year at East St. Louis high school when Ray Sonnenberg hired . me and another East Side student-athlete, Steve Blackwell. Steve and I were from different parts of the city but we had become tight friends through our teammate associations in baseball and basketball. As junior day-camp counselors, Steve and I worked closely under the supervision of Ray and another adult counselor helping young kids in a variety of activities.
Ray Sonnenberg's leadership style was distinct. He was most personable but spoke directly and poignantly regarding rules and expectations. Each of the some fifty kids in the YMCA Day Camp seemed to be special to Ray. That was the first time I noticed Ray's ability to engage every kid in a one on one conversation and ask meaningful questions, which caused the youngster to feel comfortable and safe enough to share. Many years later, I would see Ray at events and his demeanor had not changed. He would stop what he was doing and while looking directly into my face he would not only ask about my life's journey but inquire about my different family members. Ray Sonnenberg's focus was always on others and he wanted the particulars. He was genuine. I have always 'admired' that caring characteristic.
(Touch)
Thanks for being a friend
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
Bring Some; Leave Some
I've seen recent media reports stating that vinyl is back...as in vinyl records. Actually, vinyl never left this house. Why I've collected vinyl records since my teen years. Come to think, I've collected more vinyl records the past three decades. Strange however, I don't often play vinyl records but instead I make ('burn') composite CD's from my vinyl collections. I say collections (plural) because I'm talking LP vinyl and 45 vinyls. Matter-of-fact, I still have several old gramophone or if you please, phonograph records. I read once that those old records could last for centuries. Actually, they broke too easily. Regardless, I'm happy to learn that vinyls are 'coming back.'
Thinking about things that are 'gone,' I find myself wishing some would 'come back' while other things stay gone. Examples: I wish fender-skirts, whitewalls and mud-flaps would come back but not running boards. I'd like the return of drugstore soda fountains and Poodle Skirts but not 'duck tails.' Bring back white buck shoes and Billy Eckstine shirt collars but not the those pegged-pants. Bring back penny-candy, Double Cola and wooden baseball bats but forget those wool uniforms. Let's have a return of Palmer Method cursive writing to our schools but not 'ink wells.'
Finally, let's bring back neighbors visiting and true caring like you those dear hearts and gentle people who lived in your hometown.
(Touch)
Dear Hearts
Thinking about things that are 'gone,' I find myself wishing some would 'come back' while other things stay gone. Examples: I wish fender-skirts, whitewalls and mud-flaps would come back but not running boards. I'd like the return of drugstore soda fountains and Poodle Skirts but not 'duck tails.' Bring back white buck shoes and Billy Eckstine shirt collars but not the those pegged-pants. Bring back penny-candy, Double Cola and wooden baseball bats but forget those wool uniforms. Let's have a return of Palmer Method cursive writing to our schools but not 'ink wells.'
Finally, let's bring back neighbors visiting and true caring like you those dear hearts and gentle people who lived in your hometown.
(Touch)
Dear Hearts
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
Happy Birthday Yanks
Happy 241st birthday, America! WOW! What a journey it's been. But let's set aside all our political differences and unrelenting opinions and get down to the important matter of THIS DAY.
We must scramble through closets and drawers to find those 'Red, White & Blue' items and hit the road to parades, cookouts and fireworks. We have a responsibility to hold up our end. After all it takes a lot of folks to consume 150 million hot dogs, 700 million pounds of chicken, 190 million pounds of beef and then wash-it-down with beer, which cost one billion dollars and $568 million dollars worth of wine.
If we're still standing by nightfall, we can sit back in our law chairs, belch and 'ooh and haaa' about $800 million dollars worth of fireworks. (PS. Most of that fireworks purchase money was sent to China).
Today, July 4, 2017, we are all 'Yankee Doodle Dandy's,' Tomorrow its back to the 'back-biting' and name calling led by our 45th President.
Americans: Before we do what we do best, which is overindulge, shall we take a moment and whisper a prayer of remembrance and thanksgiving for all those service men who have 'stood the watch' and guaranteed our frivolous freedoms? And may we especially pause and pray for those families who lost a love one in those missions?
(Touch)
A Yankee Doodle
We must scramble through closets and drawers to find those 'Red, White & Blue' items and hit the road to parades, cookouts and fireworks. We have a responsibility to hold up our end. After all it takes a lot of folks to consume 150 million hot dogs, 700 million pounds of chicken, 190 million pounds of beef and then wash-it-down with beer, which cost one billion dollars and $568 million dollars worth of wine.
If we're still standing by nightfall, we can sit back in our law chairs, belch and 'ooh and haaa' about $800 million dollars worth of fireworks. (PS. Most of that fireworks purchase money was sent to China).
Today, July 4, 2017, we are all 'Yankee Doodle Dandy's,' Tomorrow its back to the 'back-biting' and name calling led by our 45th President.
Americans: Before we do what we do best, which is overindulge, shall we take a moment and whisper a prayer of remembrance and thanksgiving for all those service men who have 'stood the watch' and guaranteed our frivolous freedoms? And may we especially pause and pray for those families who lost a love one in those missions?
(Touch)
A Yankee Doodle
Monday, July 3, 2017
Strange Out There
Let me state unequivocally that I believe we Americans live in wonderful times. In earlier decades, I would not be living; modern medicines and medical techniques available today bode well with most of society. That said should not send a signal that living these days is necessarily easy, it is not.
Consider please...
Most of my telephone calls are met with a pre-recorded message of instructions. I no longer drive an automobile with keys placed in an ignition. My new television set requires all kinds of accessories and an online code registration number before watching re-runs of 'The Rifleman.' My gasoline-station sells milk, hot dogs and gambling opportunities. Of course, in that venue as others, I am required to wait on myself and seek out someone to whom I give my money.
Some local schools have police officers on the premise suggesting there is potential for 'problems.' I appreciate the 'message' in light of frequent public shootings at schools, hospitals, nightclubs and concert venues not to dismiss the possibility that the guys standing next to you at the July 4th Community Park celebration may have a bomb strapped to his ass. I dare not make a face at the guy riding on my rear car-bumper at 77-mph...he likely has a gun in the seat next to him.
No longer do I enjoy the Doo Wop Motown sounds and lyrics sung by nattily attired men demonstrating smooth synchronized dance moves...nope, they've been replaced by baggy-pants wearing, tattooed wannabes whose rhymes pale to those penned by Chuck Berry.
I live in a nation with a paranoid President who wants me to disclose a plethora of personal information before I can exercise my voting right. I'm told that my social security number along with other information will be safe with the government...surely, they shit me!
I remember going to Church seeking forgiveness. Today, many Church folks seemingly have found personal forgiveness and now are in the business of judging fellow citizens about personal choices protected under a document called 'The Constitution.'
I have NEVER seen so many people so ANGRY. Excuse me but I'm going to take my pup for a walk.
(Touch)
Stranger in Paradice
Consider please...
Most of my telephone calls are met with a pre-recorded message of instructions. I no longer drive an automobile with keys placed in an ignition. My new television set requires all kinds of accessories and an online code registration number before watching re-runs of 'The Rifleman.' My gasoline-station sells milk, hot dogs and gambling opportunities. Of course, in that venue as others, I am required to wait on myself and seek out someone to whom I give my money.
Some local schools have police officers on the premise suggesting there is potential for 'problems.' I appreciate the 'message' in light of frequent public shootings at schools, hospitals, nightclubs and concert venues not to dismiss the possibility that the guys standing next to you at the July 4th Community Park celebration may have a bomb strapped to his ass. I dare not make a face at the guy riding on my rear car-bumper at 77-mph...he likely has a gun in the seat next to him.
No longer do I enjoy the Doo Wop Motown sounds and lyrics sung by nattily attired men demonstrating smooth synchronized dance moves...nope, they've been replaced by baggy-pants wearing, tattooed wannabes whose rhymes pale to those penned by Chuck Berry.
I live in a nation with a paranoid President who wants me to disclose a plethora of personal information before I can exercise my voting right. I'm told that my social security number along with other information will be safe with the government...surely, they shit me!
I remember going to Church seeking forgiveness. Today, many Church folks seemingly have found personal forgiveness and now are in the business of judging fellow citizens about personal choices protected under a document called 'The Constitution.'
I have NEVER seen so many people so ANGRY. Excuse me but I'm going to take my pup for a walk.
(Touch)
Stranger in Paradice
Sunday, July 2, 2017
Roustio's rants: Be Careful What You Chase
Roustio's rants: Be Careful What You Chase: Several years ago when my wife and I were vacationing in Florida, we attended the dog races. I have never been big on betting at the race tr...
Jesus' Health Care Plan...Medicaid
Feel free to check it out for yourself but I counted more than thirty-times that Jesus Christ 'healed' people according to Bibilical Scriptures. He healed poor people, people of means and folks from various stations in life's journey. Seemingly, Jesus Christ's health care plan was predicated on 'rightful' need regardless of pre-existing conditions or perceived 'privilege.' I think it's safe to conclude that Christ saw wellness as a 'right' not a 'privilege.' Actually, upon close examination, Medicaid help focuses upon the poor, the children, the elderly and the disabled. Excuse me, those were mostly the groups Jesus healed...and today these Republicans want to reduce Medicaid by $800 Billion. Then those same Bible-thumpers will chastise a woman for wanting her right to choose.
I would expect this self-proclaimed pontificating 'family values' Christian political party to develop our Nation's health care program to follow Christ's blueprint-example.
Can this misguided, ill-informed liberal Democrat get an 'Amen?'
(Touch)
By Our Love
I would expect this self-proclaimed pontificating 'family values' Christian political party to develop our Nation's health care program to follow Christ's blueprint-example.
Can this misguided, ill-informed liberal Democrat get an 'Amen?'
(Touch)
By Our Love
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Special Angels
I go to my Church about three or four times a week. I only attend one worship service Sunday morning. On Wednesday evening, I help a young man whose youth meeting leadership I admire and endorse. I don't know that I'm much help but I do like lifting up his efforts. The other couple of weekly Church 'stops' are usually impromptu. For example, when dropping off or picking up my wife from her Bible Study Class, I slip into the sanctuary for moments of meditation. I suppose it is that appetite to feel the Lord's presence; to feel close to God.
There are other times that I 'feel' a brief presence of God when watching a Florida sunset, looking across the Great Plains seeing for miles and miles. Certainly, I have had those magnificent breathtaking views of the open seas and the soaring tops of great mountains, which stirs my heart with the nearness of my Creator.
Funny though how all those things pale in comparison to the nearness of God I have experienced when rocking a new born crying child to sleep in the stillness of midnight hours. I first had this incredible spiritual moment when I was sixteen. My mother, who was 36-years old had given birth to her third son, Martin Bennett. Let me back up and share this perception before continuing. I've been told and in a few cases noticed that most teen boys tend to be a bit uncomfortable and even embarrassed with a pregnant mother in the social midst. Not me! I was proud of my mother. My mother was a pretty lady adored by a strong handsome husband.
When baby Marty was born, I was eager to get home from dates to see if he was sleeping or perhaps being fussy. Should the latter be the case, I encouraged mom to go to bed and then I rocked that precious life long after he fell asleep. Later, as a father, I repeated that close to God time with my own three children. Looking into a sleeping new born's face pressed against your chest and hearing the sighing from new life tells me God is near.
These days, I get a similar God is near 'feeling' every morning when Toy Poodle, Yodie leaves the foot of our bed to find my face on the pillow and fall back asleep next to me. The world needs more kids and puppies.
(Touch)
Special,Angel
There are other times that I 'feel' a brief presence of God when watching a Florida sunset, looking across the Great Plains seeing for miles and miles. Certainly, I have had those magnificent breathtaking views of the open seas and the soaring tops of great mountains, which stirs my heart with the nearness of my Creator.
Funny though how all those things pale in comparison to the nearness of God I have experienced when rocking a new born crying child to sleep in the stillness of midnight hours. I first had this incredible spiritual moment when I was sixteen. My mother, who was 36-years old had given birth to her third son, Martin Bennett. Let me back up and share this perception before continuing. I've been told and in a few cases noticed that most teen boys tend to be a bit uncomfortable and even embarrassed with a pregnant mother in the social midst. Not me! I was proud of my mother. My mother was a pretty lady adored by a strong handsome husband.
When baby Marty was born, I was eager to get home from dates to see if he was sleeping or perhaps being fussy. Should the latter be the case, I encouraged mom to go to bed and then I rocked that precious life long after he fell asleep. Later, as a father, I repeated that close to God time with my own three children. Looking into a sleeping new born's face pressed against your chest and hearing the sighing from new life tells me God is near.
These days, I get a similar God is near 'feeling' every morning when Toy Poodle, Yodie leaves the foot of our bed to find my face on the pillow and fall back asleep next to me. The world needs more kids and puppies.
(Touch)
Special,Angel
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