School Day's Fashions

It's been a long spell since I've been in a high school hallway with students passing to their next hour's class. I found that once familiar moment just last week when visiting a nearby secondary school. The bustling about and endless chatter struck a chord but appearances regarding fashion apparel had a much different look. Okay, I did notice some similarities from yesteryear noting many girls sporting 'ponytails,' but it ended there. The boys today share that commonality of 'acne' of days gone by.

Bluejeans still rule the bottoms but now they are torn and faded. Some of the boys could use bigger butts because those jeans are baggin' big-time. Girls and boys seem to prefer some kind of runners' shoe or tennis shoes and from what I understand those shoes are the most expensive piece of attire. I did not see one girl wearing penny loafers nor one boy wearing white or brown 'buck shoes.'

Socks must be optional these days and skirts apparently are prohibited by current folkways. I always thought a young girl looked extra 'cute' wearing Bobby socks under black and white saddle shoes beneath a Poodle skirt and a blouse with baby-doll sleeves. (Note: Even if I can't remember how to 'conjucate' verbs, I did pay close attention to 'some things.'
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Pink Shoe Laces

Somebody Should 'Warn' Trump

Let me preface what I am going to advise by stating the following: I spent my life (youth & adulthood) interacting in a very diverse environment. I prefer it that way. I'm most comfortable when gatherings are diverse in physical looks, ideologies and social perspectives. I say this because I believe I know what I'm talking about when I say, Somebody needs to warn President Trump that picking a verbal 'dishing' fight with NFL and NBA athletes is not a smart move.

We all recall how Trump verbally attacked and kicked the ass of 'Liitle Marco,' lying Ted,' Momma's boy, Jeb' and 'Crooked Hillary.' Those targets chose not to 'get-down.' The 'jocks' adjust to any rules and they are best with no holds barred.

Trump in a move to rally base-supporters' hoorah, recently wrapped himself in the American flag as he called-out pro-athletes for kneeling in protest during the National Anthem. Trump was ill-advised to call the players "those people" and follow up suggesting 'they' are "sons-of-bitches." Warning Donnie: If you choose to 'dish' with the Fellas be prepared for an 'ass whopping.'  Beware, you're entering big league turf. You THINK Saturday Night Live is harsh...you ain't seen nothin' till the 'Pro-Bros' start 'dishing!' Mr. President: You best lace-up your tennis and strap on a 'cup.'
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Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Priorities, Please.

Throughout my life, I have always been emotionally touched by the sight of our American flag and listening to our National Anthem. I recall standing with high school and college teammates and always saying the 'same' prayer while the Anthem was played or sung. I'd thank God for allowing me the health and ability to participate. I prayed that he would bless in a special way those who could not participate. Finally, I thanked God for family.

During a 39-year coaching career, I said an 'open prayer' before my teams in the locker room before taking the floor. I thanked God for the players health and asked that all participants would be safe from injury. I never asked for victory. I once again prayed for those who could not participate.

I did not serve in the armed services. My father did and I was ołd enough to recall those anxious times. I deeply respect and give gratitude to all veterans and current military who have served this country. That said, I understand that many families lost love ones while serving. Those men and women who gave the supreme sacrifice did so to ensure people like me the opportunity to show respect to the flag and national anthem and...those same sacrifices preserved the rights of protesters to disrespect that flag and anthem...This is called 'Freedom.'

 This guy (President Trump) thinks he has 'rights' to "grab a woman's vagina?" This is a shallow little-man who publicly degrades peoples' physical looks? Hey, Franklin Graham, Pat Robertson and other evangelical leaders, your silence is deafening! Our President is a bonafide bigot. Remember the  'birther conspiracy?' Recall Trump characterizing 'all' Mexicans as thugs? Remember attacking the Hispanic judge? Recall Trump offering to pay lawyer fees if his supporters attacked protesters? In   spite of a greater number of home-grown terrorist, Trump imposes travel bans on Muslim nations.

Finally, we have this backdrop comparison: President Trump calls some neo-Nazi protesting in Charlottesville "fine people" and then calls American Black & White athletes protesting before NFL games, "sons-of-bitches." Neo-Nazi's fine? American football players "sons-of-bitches? This man continues day-after-day to embrace Putin, white Nationalist and neo-Nazis over our very own citizens. He has become an embarrassment to our Nation.

Millions of Americans have been devastated by recent natural disasters, our nation appears to be on the brink of nuclear war and tonight, in this great nation, 1-in-5 children will go to bed hungry...and our President wishes to pick a fight with sports teams.
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Hit The Road

'Thunder in the Tundra'

I have been toying with an idea. It is well documented that Dennis Rodman is the 'only' trusted American in the eyes of North Korea's Kim Jong Un. I suppose the fact that Rodman was the dirtiest NBA player in history has something to do with Kim's fascination. It is also known that boxing promoter Don King is a President Trump 'guy." That mutual admiration-society begins with the 'hair.' Here's my thought, I'd like to explore the possibility developing and promoting potentially the greatest money-making boxing match the world has ever know? TRUMP VS. UN.

These two leaders have been trash-talking at each other for months. This boxing match is a natural!
Vladimir Putin would host the match in Northern Russia. It could be billed, "Thunder in the Tundra."

Referee: 'Crooked' Hillary Clinton.
Judges: Rosie O'Donnell, Marla Maples Trump and Colin Kaepernick.
Card-carrying Girls (announcing Rounds) Caitlyn Jenner and Megyn Kelly.

Trump's corner handlers: David Duke & Jeff Sessions.
Un's corner handlers: Iran's Supreme Leader, Aytolah Ali Khamenei

Public Announcer: Jimmie Kimmel says, "Ladies & Gentlemen, welcome to this boxing match between the two biggest blow-hards the world has ever known. In this corner wearing brown trunks, "He floats like a turd with a haircut like a nerd; North Korea's rocket mouth, Kim Jong Un."

"And in this corner wearing Confederate flag trunks, the groping-bloviating bully, Donald J. Trump."

This is a financial windfall-gold mine!
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Great Day to Whip Ass

Some Talk Too Much

A very nice family consisting of five children lives two doors from us. The father is a musical director at a local Baptist church while the mother is a stay at home caretaker and homeschooling provider. The three teen children do some work for the Roustio's. The young girl does some house chores and the two teen boys assist with yard work...thank God for willing teen workers in the neighborhood.

Gerry and I enjoy these very respectful kids and always get a belly-laugh when the little three-year old brother visits. Just the other day the little ball of fire told us, "I said poop yesterday but I told my mommy that I didn't mean it in my heart." Now, that's pretty fast thinking coming from a child! The episode reminded me of the 'lusting in my heart' comment made by then Presidential candidate, Jimmy Carter back in 1976. Carter caught all kinds of crap from both Democrats and Republicans when he told an interviewer that he was sometimes guilty of  "lusting in his heart." One person said he was happy Carter wasn't teaching Sunday School to his grandkids and another said, "A man who talks like that can never be President." Oh, Really? We found out that 'locker room talk' is not meant in the heart.

Finally, I believe most would agree that the fella in North Korea and our own guy here in the States should shut up or 'Throw Down!' They both have too much mouth...
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Talk Too Much

We're Offended? REALLY?

We have all said and continue to say, "I'm offended." You have said it and I have said it. Offended means that we are resentful or annoyed by something we perceive as an insult. How dare somebody 'insult' us, eh? We should be protected from such an affront and we hold some higher status and therefore should be insulated from insults. So 'we think' and therefore process and respond.

We all take this posture into our interpersonal communication which causes us to feel diminished when others dare disagree with us and advancing an attitude or remark that is truly 'insulting' to us. We say it 'offends.' Aren't we special? And...My, My isn't it wonderful that Facebook communication allows us 'to be offended' without leaving the comforts of our home. Being offended once required a person to get out of bed, get dressed and engage another in the public square to find insult and thus feel offended. Today, we now get it online! Hooray for instant gratification.

The reality for me is this. Let me repeat but re-phrase: 'My reality' as a Christian is this: I have absolutely no right to be 'offended.'  I think one must have never insulted another and thus lived a life of purity before they can claim being offended. The only person who ever walked this earth with the right to say I'm 'offended' was Jesus Christ. The man spent three years teaching and preaching about loving and caring for your fellow man and woman. His friends betrayed Him and pompous political and religious leaders had Him brutally killed. Jesus Christ should be offended...yet He Forgives!
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He

Just My Imagination

'Imagine,' its 1948 on a Friday night at 8' o'clock. The family is gathered around a large mahogany wood console radio in their small but cozy living room and through the often static-crackling radio speaker the announcer begins:
                                               "There he goes into that drugstore. He's stepping on the scales.
                                               Weight 239 pounds. Fortune danger! Who is it? THE FAT MAN!"
Let the individual imaginations kick in as the radio detective mystery tale unfolds as it so many of those radio classics in pre-television days.

The large movie screen of early years also required much the same of  it's audience.......'imagination.' We all knew that Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr were involved in a torrid romance on that ship in "An Affair to Remember." You just knew it. Years later, we need not use any imagination as the bare butts  and boobs told us about a "Fatal Attraction."

I personally blame 'PAC Man.' In May of 1980, the Japanese unleashed 'the mouth' that hurried through a video game maze eating little yellow dots while attempting to avoid the ghosts. If we can 'see' this drama what a great idea to 'see' the bullet entering the forehead and blood flowing from a dying man. Wow...we even hold the controls in our own hands...we become PAC-Man. We get to destroy over and over and over. Terrific fun with no need for imagination.

There has always been something magical about calling on one's imagination. On a rainy day in 1948, I took my homemade 'spinner baseball game' to our screened-in back porch. My bubble gum cards were laid-out with the Brooklyn 'Dodgers' lineup on one side and my St. Louis 'Cardinals' lineup on the other side. As the rain pelted down keeping me from the sandlot, I found a wonderful fantasy escape. At any moment, I was 'The Man,' 'The Duke,' Hodges, Moore or Mr. Shortstop, Marty Marion. And always, I was the hyper-over-the-top broadcaster, Harry Carey...Holy Cow! What an imagination.
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Just My Imagination

Accentuate the Positive

Yesterday morning while getting a physical therapy treatment for ongoing chronic back issues, I overheard one therapist tell her co-worker that she felt her co-worker had "got up on the wrong side of the bed" and consequently was sending out negative vibes. She went on to explain that she does not like to be around negative energies. An interesting exchange took place.

I know many quotes are attributed to Abraham Lincoln and I believe this one is spurious but none-the-less a terrific commentary: 'Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be." Although the great orator did not say that...it does not alter the fact that the ball called 'happiness' is in the court of each individual.

For several years I truly embrace and enjoyed the opportunity to travel this State and many places across the nation to share various messages with 'athletic families.' One favorite presentation was entitled "The Wish vs. The Will." In that message I attempted to point out the many ways we differ from each other while emphasizing the fact that we all 'wish' for hints but few 'will' things to happen in their lives. I also point out that our own power of positive thinking is critical to our happiness and success. I close by asking the audience to accept my 'Post it Challenge.' Place a 'post it' on the bathroom mirror with this inscription: "10:00AM." This will serve as a morning reminder every day, that you are going to be the most positive, pleasant and engaging individual until 10:00AM and then you're going to stop. Truth is...if you begin a day one way it becomes difficult to change. How will you begin this day?
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Accentuate the Positive

My Reality has a History

It would be shallow of me to always write blogs, which target others. I am unapologetic in my guilt of sharing our family matters and often pointing at another family member. I've been know to point fingers at politicians, organized religions and people in general. It is true that from time-to-time I poke fun but not in personal, hateful or mean-spirited ways.

Well, today, I expose myself. Umm, perhaps I should re-phrase...today I tell on myself. The old fool.

Our Decatur home finds the backyard adjacent to the outdoor blacktop basketball courts of Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic School. These late summer/early fall evenings always stir my memories of days gone by...those mid-1950's.

After the supper hour around 7:00PM, I'll walk to the backyard fence and listen to the dribbling cadence of a basketball and the chatter of young voices as the daylight gives way to the lighted basketball court. As Toy Poodle, Yodie and I find a place on the backyard swing, I close my eyes and recall the endless nights when my brother Tom and I would shoot hoops in our lighted backyard court in East St. Louis. Some neighborhood kids might join us and so many times I just found escape shooting, shooting and shooting all alone. It permitted me a journey to a place in mind that I have never found in any other activity throughout my life.

This particular evening the nearby school yard court was empty around 9:00PM. I pulled my 78- year old butt off the swing and went to the basement where I grabbed a basketball and headed to the court.
I was once again 'alone' in the element so familiar. I shot a few close in shots and then moved to the free throw line. Funny how some physical repetitious training skills (although rusty) do kick-in as they say. I suppose it's like riding a bike; once you learn you never truly forget.

I shot several more times and then it happened. I wanted more. I took a couple of once familiar dribbles to my right and attempted to 'pull-up' and shoot a jump shot. There's no way to put it except to say, "Ain't no jump left in this old boy." In my mind, I elevated and knocked down a 15-foot jumper. In reality, my feet never left the blacktop and the ball fell several feet short of its mark. I looked heavenward and noted the same moon and stars above the court, which have always been above every boy's court of dreams...but the boy has a different name this night.
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Ain't What I Used to Be

He's My Brother

It was called 'Hand-n-Hand.' A star-studded television fund raising benefit for hurricane victims' relief. Dozens of actors, actresses, Hollywood and Music icons joined in an effort to help fellow Americans devastated by Harvey and Irma.

Two names among the many caught my attention: Ellen Degeneres and Oprah Winfrey. Why those two women? Because they are the endless targets of right-wing haters! Now relax. I did not reference all conservatives as 'haters.' As I've stated in the past I also hold 'some' conservative values but depart at the point where I believe my Christian training taught me to embrace my fellow man's social needs regardless of financial wherewithal.

The homo phobics are constantly degrading Degeneres and I guess Winfrey's sin is being black, wealthy and outspoken...you know one of those Negroes who doesn't know her place. That attitude prevails and disgusts me!

Often I hear the voices of Hannity and Limbaugh degrading those in the movie and music industries with disparaging remarks as the label those folks as "crazy Hollywood liberals." Seems to me this nation could benefit with more such caring-hearts. It's all in ones attitude toward his fellow man...
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He's My Brother

Dem Bones, Dem Bones

I cannot imagine what medical advancements might occur in the next seventy-eight years. Not many years ago many life-saving surgeries were not even available much less the now 'same day' and minimal invasive procedures, which are done in mass production routinely. Today, we are accustom to organ transplants, mechanical joints and robotic limbs. This older-fella is amazed yet I sure my grandchildren will grow up wondering what's the big deal because of untold advancements years ahead.

First and foremost remember to> Bring insurance cards and photo I. D.

We arrived at St. Mary's Hospital for Gerry's hip replacement surgery Wednesday at 5:15AM. She was admitted within five minutes due to pre-registration aided by technology. Surgery prep went rather smooth but here's where the questions got interesting. Do you have a 'living Will?' Do you agree to a blood transfusion if necessary? Do you wish to 'keep' the upper portion of the femur bone that is being cut from and removed from your body? Whoa! That caught my attention. I thought that's a tough one. Look, my femur bone/hip ball & socket has been attached near my booty for a long lifetime. That particular bone part has stabilized me and kept me from falling off the toilet. But why would somebody want to take their arthritic femur-hip bone home after being cut from the body? My thoughts were interrupted by my wife's answer, "No! I am sure my husband would write a stupid blog about it should I take it home. I did anyway.

You know, the more I think about discarding parts of my body in some cavalier manner it strikes me as being disloyal to an old friend.  
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Dem Bones

He Keeps Sending Me Angels

Praise God for His healing powers through the learned skills and professional services of surgeons, nurses and other healthcare providers. God is good all the time; All the time God is Good!

Gerry was discharged from St. Mary's Hospital of Decatur yesterday mid-afternoon. Doctor surgeon, Jacob Sams performed a total right hip replacement surgery Wednesday morning in a 1-hour time procedure. Later that afternoon he visited Gerry and then he called the hospital at 9PM to check on her condition. He was back in her room making a 7AM Thursday morning evaluation and returned mid-day to inform his patient he was writing discharge orders after a second physical therapy round. The professionalism and genuine caring attitudes of St. Mary's Hospital personnel was phenomenal.

Finally, I would be remiss if I did not thank all those those who sent special message telling me that Gerry was in their thoughts and prayers. Five hundred and seventy-seven family, friends and acquaintances through Facebook blog posting took a moment to whisper my wife's name. Thank you.
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Keeps Sending Me Angels

All Hands On Deck and Folded

I wanted to share with those who may read my daily blog that I will be, as they say, out-of-pocket for the next few days. Here's the deal: I took my wife, Gerry to her orthopedic surgeon this morning for her final check point before today's total hip replacement surgery schedule for 7:30 AM at Decatur St. Mary's Hospital. Gerry has had clearance visits with our family doctor, her cardiologist and her hematologist..All gave a thumbs up.

Yours truly will attempt to be the best home nurse possible after her hopefully one-night hospital stay.
Meanwhile, both Gerry and I joined Pastor Beth McLaughlin this morning at the alter at Grace United Methodist Church to check in with the greatest healing physician, Our Lord Jesus Christ.

All that remains is to ask you, if you would, to lift Gerry's name in a prayer petition. Thank you and God bless.
Hope to share with you all soon.
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Healer Heal Me

'Don't Look Thomas!'

This past Saturday over three thousand bikers in various stages of undress including many totally nude rode a ten mile trek through the streets of Philadelphia to protest the nation's dependence on fossil fuel, advocate for bike safety and promote 'positive body' image. I don't make this crap up, folks.

If somebody reading this blog can connect the dots between fossil fuel dependence, bicycle safety and public nudity, please do so. As the legend goes the English noblewoman Lady Godiva reportedly rode nude through the streets of England protesting her husband's excessive taxation on their poor tenants. Seems after failed pleas to cause her husband to change the tax, he (husband) said if you ride a horse through the streets naked, I'll consider tax reductions. She evidently took the challenge.
To protect his wife from being gazed upon Godiva's husband issued a proclamation stating all should stay in homes and cover windows during the ride. Don't you know some some folks just refuse to follow direction. The local taylor fella, named Thomas had to look and I'll be dadgumit if he didn't go blind. (Tom must have been fondling himself while 'peeping.')

We all know without a doubt that the 3,000-plus nude riders 'wanted' people to peek at them; that's why they rode naked through Philly streets on bikes risking valuable body parts getting caught in the bicycle spokes.
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Don't Look Tom

The GQ Dog.

Last weekend both Toy Poodle, Yodie and his master got haircuts. I went to Sport Clips while Yodie was taken to Petsmart. I was in 'the chair' for a total of twenty minutes. Yodie's 'grooming-time' was two hours and seventeen minutes.

My haircut cost $14.00 and I gave the gal a $3.00 tip. Yodie's trim set his master back $54.00 and I gave that lady a $5.00 tip. My Charles L. Manners Grade School arithmetic calculates a $42.00 difference.

 Now in all fairness, Yodie received more attention than did I. We both got haircut, true. And we both had eyebrows trimmed and ear hairs removed. Thank the Lord that my hair professional scissor-clipped my eye-hairs instead of 'plucking' them out!  My barber did not offer to cut and grind my toenails or brush my teeth nor 'express' my anal gland! Those details are automatic treatments for James Wilkerson Yoder, aka, 'Yodie.'

I must say that after the haircuts, Yodie looked better than me...but the dog looked better than me before the haircuts! The boy's got GQ!
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Best Buddy

Sticks & Stones

I have been writing this daily blog for several years. Over that time period, I have had well over one-hundred thousand page viewers. Most people react while some comment. Frequently, people ask me if I am troubled with negative comments or criticisms from readers. The simple answer is 'no.' I can elaborate on that answer...'never bothers me.'

Come now. I spent a lifetime putting myself on display in arenas that beg critique. I played basketball and pitched baseball in highly competitive situations. I coached high school male students in basketball, baseball, football and cross country for thirty-nine years. Except for cross country, the other sports requires the mentor to 'make out' the line up and decide playing time for thousands of parents' children, each of whom thought their kid should always be playing. I've heard the 'cat-calls' heckling and nasty remarks. I've had a couple of parents get on missions from hell trying to 'get me fired.' I've had death threats. (Note: You may think I am exaggerating but as God is my witness, I speak truth).

I have presented lectures to school administrators, coaches, parents and athletes hundreds of times throughout this state and in several other states. Each time, I risked rebuke and criticism.

My aforementioned comments are NOT intended to be self-serving or pity seeking. It is my attempt to answer the question: "Are you bothered by critical comments about a simple opinion blog post?" PLEASE!

This explanation regarding negative comments and criticisms should give a strong hint as to why I have had DOGS my entire life.
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Sticks & Stones

Celebrate While Ye May

That which I wish to share today is a know factor to folks my age; therefore, my sharing 'target' is that generation I see in the rear view mirror. Take note!

I never learned so much from a man who talked so little; that man was my father. He didn't run-off at the mouth but when he began to speak he was that person who immediately owned the room. Throughout my life, I paid attention to this man. Why not? He was a good blueprint. Even in his final years of life he showed a particular 'positive grit.' Let Me explain.

I'm seventy-eight years old. I have my share of physical issues but I note some my age with fewer issues, many with greater and more serious battles and even more who have succumbed to issues. My father, like many had a few surgeries but unlike most he had a massive heart attack at age 54. He nearly died. But by the grace of God, modern medicines, his determination and a terrific Barnes Hospital cardiology team, my father would not have lived 21-additional years after that initial heart attack.

In Dad's heart failure-weakened years, he kept pushing and planning. He never focused on what he couldn't do but instead zeroed in on anticipated family events next month and two months after that. He kept making plans for himself and YOU if you'd let him. His philosophy reminded me of the late  great baseball pitcher Satchel Paige who once said, "Never look behind somebody might be gaining  on you." My father did not focus on his weaknesses but on accentuating those strengths he had to share that upcoming family wedding, anniversary, birthday or other special special events. He always saw his life filled not empty. He gathered all life's nectar. He never missed an opportunity to celebrate life.

P.S. I have a younger brother who is in his third year 'celebrating' life after having a artificial heart pump placed in his chest during an 8-hour surgery...he also ranks as one of my heroes!
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Celebr ate

Work Attitude

I would not be so bold to suggest that I understand the 'why' or 'how-come' but I am convinced America's attitude towards work has changed. Here's what I've observed over the years:

In the early 1950's I recall my father's friends and neighborhood guy's kibitzing about their respective work place and particularly the job responsibilities they held. I vividly remember those fellas boasting about how much they did, how hard they worked and/or how much they accomplished. They struck me as 'proud workers.' In the late 1970's, we moved to central Illinois and many area workers were employed by the State of Illinois, those workers bragged about how much they are paid for how little they do. But it is not just State workers that I hear bragging about that scenario.
It seems over time American workers began embracing 'easy' with pride.

A friend of mine is CEO of a large trucking firm. He tells me that he cannot always get enough drivers because so many cannot pass the drug test. The trucking industry and railroad industry face another similar problem; law firms hold dinners and outings for their respective employees nurturing the workers to examine any aches or pains for possible litigation. A Caterpillar executive tells me the company needs workers but cannot find enough skilled or disciplined enough to show up regularly on time.

Recovery work continues in the wake of Hurricane Harvey...those workers are often illegal    immigrants 'willing' to do the dirty work...go figure!

I also recall back-in-the-day when convicted criminals serving prison terms expected to do 'hard time' meaning that of extremely hard work and long hours of hard work. I understand that the ACLU stuck their nose in that condition and changed it. Today prisoners' tasks are reasonable if not easy and is no longer is the convict part of a sweat gang. He might break a sweat lifting weights or playing basketball but he'll cool quickly in the air conditioned environment.
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16-Tons

O'Charley's, Oh, My Goodness!

The City of Decatur has many fine restaurants. Some eateries are privately owned and many are of course, franchised associated. O'Charley's is one franchise restaurant, which my wife and I frequent and always to our pleasure...not so the past Labor Day Monday.

Our son, Steve, daughter--in law, Kathy and granddaughter, Shannon made the trek from the Metro -East area to spend Labor Day with the old folks. Always nice to have our kids join us for a day. The day before daughter Pam and her husband, Tim brought granddaughter, Erica for the day long visit. Middle daughter, Dawn often makes the longest journey from Barrington but this past weekend she discovered an Apple Orchard 'Theme Park' similar to the South Barrington Pumpkin Theme Park Farm. I'm sure Dawn will be busy this fall building a 'photo portfolio' of little girls feeding apples to goats.

Anyway, back to this recent Labor Day eating experience. We arrived at O'Charley's at noon. There was already a pretty good house in the establishment. Nevertheless, we were seated and served our drinks in a timely fashion. We then placed our respective orders. My wife and I ordered the excellent French Dip sandwich. About twenty minutes passed and our waitress approached our table carrying a large service tray full of food. She paused and looked at each one seated at our table and then glanced at the food on her tray. It was the food-order for customers two tables East. Another 15-minutes  passed and my wife flagged down our waitress serving another table, which arrived some 15-minutes after us. She asked the waitress what was causing the food delay. The waitress said, "We are out of French bread and the manager is going to Sam's Club to purchase the bread." My wife suggested to the seemingly agreeable server that she should bring food to those whose order is ready. I kid you not another 12-minutes elapsed and still no food. Do the math> we have been waiting over an hour. We decided to leave due to travel issues as well as simply being hungry. On our way out of the restaurant, my son explained to the assistant manger the reason for our departure as he paid for drinks we consumed. As I opened the door for my wife to exit the manager was entering the other door carrying loaves of French Bread...Something to be said for Labor Day Picnics.

I did enjoy butter on one of O'Charley's 'hot rolls.' Can't resist because...
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I Like Bread & Butter

Be Happy Friends

As I have aged, I have conscientiously avoided using the phrase, "in the good old days." Why? Because for the most part we live in the best of times. Stop please and consider: We no longer go to the creek or river to wash our clothes. We no longer use an 'outhouse' in the dead of winter. We no longer see mothers losing newborns because of complications that mid-wives were incapable of handling as do hospital personnel. Speaking of hospitals, think of the marvelous medical advancements we all benefit from in this twenty-first century. Thus you understand why I avoid that phrase, "in the good old days."

That position defined does not negate some of yesterday's nuances and mores that we'd be better off if part of our lives today. We'd benefit without 24/7 news via television. We'd be better off if we were a less mobile society...something to be said about living nearby grandparents even if you are expected every Sunday for chicken dinner. We must all agree that electronic gadgets (today) have subtlety robbed us of once-upon-a-time neighboring behavior.

The backyard games, which were once very prevalent in American neighborhoods brought the young and old together for friendly competition. Those games of yesterday, i.e. horseshoes, washers, badminton, croquet, cork ball, whiffle ball, volleyball and basket shooting have the same degree of popularity of today's church attendance...participation ain't what it use to be!

Perhaps some of those 'good old days' folkways would serve well to stem our current angry, neurotic,  pill popping  society and do us some good! I guess that for which I wish is for people today be as happy as people of yesterday.
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Happy Days

Small World?

My wife, Gerry has been suffering with right hip pain for eight months and it has become debilitating the past month. She has seen an orthopedic surgeon and he diagnosed extensive osteoarthritis and the x-rays clearly show significant bone spurs above and below the hip socket. Surgery scheduled for September 13.

Before the actual surgery can happen, Gerry had to schedule appointments with our family doctor for a physical examination and a complete blood work up. She also had to see her cardiologist for an EKG and examination. It is mandated that those doctors sign off on the surgery. The cardiologist gave the green light immediately but there was a glitch with blood work. The blood work indicated a high white blood cell count and it was determined not to be from bacteria or a viral infection...some other 'underlying cause.'

Next reference? A hematologist at the Decatur Cancer Care. Of course, you're told not to be frightened by being sent to a cancer treatment center but let's be honest, its more than surreal. The doctor was complete with regard to every detail about Gerry's white blood cell abnormalities. The one high indicator was elevated due to her joint inflammation and the body's response to long-term pain. The second high marker was more indicative of some possible blood disorder characteristic found in the older population. He was not alarmed but wishes to follow up with blood work come next spring...so thus the surgery is a GO! I'll invite your prayers with mine for a skillfully executed performance and a complete recovery for my sweetheart.

Oh, that part about the blog title? Well, the hematologist/oncologist doctor is from the Philippines. During the visit, I asked the doctor when he left the Philippines? He said in 1994. As the doctor continued typing some information on his computer, I continued saying that I coached high school basketball for thirty-nine years and I coached a kid at Edwardsville who later played for the Philippine National Basketball team, his name was Ricardo 'Dick' Brown. The doctor spun on his chair to face me and said, "Oh, Ricardo Brown was our great three point shooter...I was in high school at the time he played for us. China could not stop him!" Small world, eh?
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Its a Small World

Summer's Last Hoorah

It marked the official end of summer and ushered in the new school year...'it' was Labor Day in East St. Louis, the hub of the Metro-East strong and proud UNION people. Labor Day morning thousands of foot-marchers representing endless numbers of trade unions met in the river city's downtown. At 10AM the paraders began weaving their way through that industrial city streets crossing the finish line at the huge-spacious  Jones' Park.

Amidst the adult walkers were large construction trucks and equipment displayed to the delight of many thousand onlookers who had earlier staked out the better curb-side spots. American flags and union signs were plenty as were young children riding decorated bikes in the parade. Young and old alike scurried in competition to retrieve candy tossed from a plethora of autos carrying local politicians and dignitaries. Of course, at the rear end of the parade came the beautiful horses. Nobody seemed interested in retrieving their 'tossings.'

Around the midday hour hundreds and hundreds of family and neighborhood picnics began throughout the park; many near the lagoon where some loving couples would later sit on nearby benches or find a canoe ride. Those baseball fans could watch a game on the Jones' Park grandstand adorned Diamond #1. Throughout the late afternoon some would find amusement watching a skirmish or two between some drunks. Near night fall a few folks would make it a point to drive by the beautiful park water fountain with its flashing colorful lights as the headed home.

The last word of the day came from mother..."You boys get a bath now and get to bed...first day of school TOMORROW...and wear those new bluejeans." And those bluejeans were so damn stiff they were standing in the corner of my room.
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Where did summer go?