Could a 'Swing' be Coming?

In 1602, Galileo discovered what is known as the Pendulum (effect) Law, which describes the motion of a pendulum caused by gravity and momentum. The theory holds that cultural, moral and political trends, etc., also tend to swing from extremes over time.

Roseanne Barr, the successful television personality is noted for her oft times outrages comments and statements recently 'tweeted' that a sexual encounter between the Muslim brotherhood and planet of the apes produced Valeria Jarrett (African-American woman) who served in the Obama Administration. This is not the first such 'ape reference' about a Black person made by Roseanne.

ABC canceled the very successful revival of the 'Roseanne Show.' God Bless the power-leadership at ABC. Perhaps, just perhaps the moral dignity entwined in our American fabric is getting dusted off and placed in public view...let's hope and pray.

In this writer's opinion, I have always found Roseanne's product-delivery to be disgusting and vulgar. The revival of the 'Roseanne Show' was highly praised by another disgusting personality, President Donald Trump. This clown, who calls kneeling National Anthem NFL players (making a protest statement) son-of-a-bitches while praising Barr, who once sang the National Anthem terribly off-key, screaming the words, grabbing her crotch and spitting upon completion of the song.

Just maybe, The American Broadcasting Company's canceling of The Roseanne Television Show is taking Galileo's pendulum law to higher ground turning away from the vulgarity of Trump and Barr.
(Touch)
Clean-up Your Mouth

Why Not?

My church should take a cue from that coffee shop chain. Let me elaborate with greater in-depth reasoning:

Perhaps you recall several weeks past when a Philadelphia Starbucks Coffee Store was the scene of a racial incident when an employee called police to have two black men removed from the premise because they were waiting for a friend and had not ordered anything. Well as imagined the 'poo-poo-hit-the-fan.' This resulted in a potentially profit killing public relations problem for the nationwide over-priced java chain. In response, Starbucks closed down their eight-thousand-plus stores for four hours yesterday afternoon for racial sensitivity training sessions for employees. Hallelujah! Starbucks held that oft spoken about but never done 'conversation on race relations.' Gave me an idea. Why doesn't my United Methodist Church have a nationwide race conversation? Come to think of it you Catholics, Baptists, Presbyterians, Seventh Day Adventists, Jews, Muslims, Church of Christ, Church of God, Assembly of God, Christian Church. Holy Rollers, and Church of The What's Up should ALL join the race relations conversation.

First, you must accept the following parameters: 1) Once each month the church pastors must conduct a service specifically on racial issues, myths, misconceptions and discrimination. 2) Audience participation is encouraged...it's a 'conversation' folks where we learn from idea exchanges! 3) Every church must have a 'sister-church' and thus engage in a 'parishioner-exchange-program,' i.e. Student-exchange programs similar to one American high school swapping students with a German high school. In other words: We will send you six whites for six blacks, three Jews for three Muslims...you got the idea?

Now, I don't want to upset those staunch conservative Evangelicals who gobbledygook about abortion and say nothing about capital punishment. I dare not suggest that your church change its mission statement of glorious desires, nope! I'm just suggesting that each month we who claim to be believers get out of the pews and into the trenches where we embrace one common mission: 'Understand and Love Our Brothers and Sisters Who Look Differently and Worship Differently than do we.' Wouldn't that be a novel Evangelical idea?

I know, I know! This will never happen because I'm so damn insecure about 'me' that I am fearful if I associate with you I'll begin thinking like 'YOU.' And God forbid we start mixin' races and bar-b-q sauce recipes! And besides...'remember the Sabbath to keep it segregated.'
(Touch)
He's My Brother

Conflicted at Times

 With my thoughts and subsequent desires to share those opinions, I often experience a clash between my personal needs of expression and my fears of adding fuel to the current social-fires of divisiveness. Perhaps like many of you reading these words, I have hundreds of Facebook friends. Most of those friends are much younger and so many look differently than do I. I am fortunate to have great diversity in my life. I relish and thrive in said diversity.

Many of my Facebook friends share similar feelings and beliefs but many also worship differently or not at all, embrace different likes and advance opposing political views...Personally, I love it; as I suggested 'diversity makes my world go round.' So you might ask, where's you personal conflict, Mel? And if you didn't think to ask, I'll take liberties to explain anyway...

Many times when I post my blog, people respond. Some respond expressing agreement while others react with varying degrees of disagreement even disdain. I should state that I never seek one response or the other. I am not particularly thrilled when folks agree with me and I do not take offense when people express anger towards me and what I may have stated. Please understand that I was an athlete who competed in the public arena and I coached high school basketball for thirty-nine years in communities that expected winning. I don't live on 'hoorahs' and likewise the critic never moved my needle.

So what's the conflicted issue within? You've likely already guessed. Often times, my blog creates discourse between folks who are my Facebook 'friends' and too many times those interactions become ugly full blown personal attacks. I ask myself; Mel, have you done a good thing this day with your blog or did you add fuel to our current discombobulated divisive society? And therein lies my personal conflict.

I'm not a complicated person. I have opinions based on my personal experiences, early childhood nurturing and formal education. Although silence 'can' be golden, I truly believe that all people are morally responsible to speak to and oppose that which they think is hurtful to brothers and sisters in this journey. When one seeks to do good but creates bad, one can and should 'feel conflicted.'
(Touch)
My World

A Time To Remember

If you are like me and been hanging around for some time, you recall when this day was once called 'Decoration Day.' That handle eventually gave way to 'Memorial Day' but not much else has changed; we still take a moment to pause and remember those military men and women who gave an ultimate sacrifice in service to our nation. We remember by shutting down and perhaps celebrating life and or decorating grave sites.

I often make that memorial remembrance trek twice each year as my wife and youngest daughter's husband and family travel to the metro-east (Illinois) area and pay homage to many family members who have departed this life. My wish for each whose eyes read these words that this day flood your mind and soul with precious memories of loved ones and friends who served in military commitments and also those loved ones who left our journey but gave you a template for living a glorious life.

May each of us feel compelled to pick up the baton and pay goodness forward.
(Touch)
Remember Them

Good Days and Great Days

Yesterday was a great day due to great 'outcomes.'  That's not to be confused with a good day with good 'outcomes.' The outcome great or good turns on the matter of control. I have always felt that if I was 'in control' of the outcome and the result was successful that made for a 'good' day. On the other hand, if I was NOT in control and the result was positive it made for a 'great' day because I was blessed; a recipient of good fortune both of which are beyond my doing.

Usually, I've noticed that those 'great outcomes' also ocurr on the heel of concerns if not angst. Recently, I've had both concern and angst over my wife, Gerry and our puppy, Yodie. For the past two weeks, my wife has been suffering from temple pain and headaches. She went to our family physician who believed she was dealing with a sinus issue and perhaps an infection. The doctor put her on an antibiotic. The issues did not resolve but worsened. My wife went back to the doctor yesterday and explained more adding that three weeks ago she had fallen in the yard while planting flowers. During the fall she struck the back of her head on concrete stones. Immediately, the doctor sent her to the hospital for blood tests, x-rays and CT scans. The doctor's concerns were that of a slow brain bleed or Eustachian tube dysfunctions, which can indicate other more serious issues.

Toy Poodle, Yodie is a backyard security guard. He chases away all critters that dare trespass,,i.e. Squirrels, Rabbits and those little ground Squirrels, 'Chipmunks.' Well, two weeks ago, Yodie bolted from his chair and immediately pulled up lame. The Vet determined that my boy likely strained or tore one of three cruciate ligaments. The Vet will not want to do surgery on such a small dog due to risks and  believes the pup will heal if kept down. Keeping him down has not been a problem because the dog  refuses to walk and only pees and poops if I tell him we are going 'bye bye cars.' I then take him to the back lot at the nearby Target Store where he does his job. For a solid week, I feared the local police would come calling asking me to explain my weird  behavior noted on the Target Store's security camera.

Okay! Now you have the background information causing my personal concerns and angst. Well, yesterday was 'Halleilujah Day!' About four o'clock, I noticed Yodie acting strange. I took a chance and escorted him to the backyard...He pooped! I came inside to share the great news with my wife and noticed she was on the telephone. She had gen greater news. The doctors office called telling her that the CT of her head showed 'NOTHING.' A 'great day' knowing things are returning to normal.
(Touch)
Good Days/Great Days

We Got Trouble

My daily (rants) blogs frequently express personal political and societal concerns and opinions.
Today, I shall offer you, the reader an opportunity to 'express' or sign off on your top three (3) concerns. You may choose those top concerns from the suggested list herein or advance a concern not listed.

In no particular order here are some of the more obvious issues facing our nation:

Protection for first responders.                                              Media Integrity (honesty)
Illegal Drugs.                                                                         Russian meddling in election
Deciding what Nations can have nuke weapons.                  Cancer Research
Economy.                                                                               Race Relations
Health Insurance.                                                                   Free Press
Pollution.                                                                                Political Office Term Limits
Obesity.                                                                                  Choice v. Anti-abortion laws
Mental Illness.                                                                        Permissive Parenting
Declining Church Attendance.                                               Pharmaceutical Costs
Social Media.                                                                         Children Killed at Schools
Illegal Immigration.                                                               Equal Pay for Women
Minimum Wage.                                                                     Lower Taxes
Gun Control.                                                                          Moral Behavior of Elected Officials
Government Subsides for Poor.                                             Government Subsides for Farmers
Societal Moral Decay.                                                            Homelessness
Plethora of Perscription Drugs                                              People Who Write Blogs.      
24/7 Cable News Networks.                                                  Too Many Bread & Cereal Choices    
Military Defense.                                                                   Censorship (Too Much/Not Enough)
Lowering of Academic Standards.                                        TV Sports Too Long Due to Commercials
(Touch)
Ya Got Trouble

Reverse 'White Flight' for Safety Reasons

Since the Columbine High School shooting nineteen years ago, there has been 270 shootings at schools, fifty mass murder attempts at schools and 141 killings committed by 96% white males.

Consider---

In the 1950's, the phenomenon called 'white flight' began in cities. By the late 1960's a significant exodus of white people from the inner cities to the suburbs was staggering. The attraction was three-fold: (1) fears that city property values would decline as blacks moved in, (2) lauded suburban schools and (3) socially embedded prejudices.

There was historical events tied to this 'white flight:' 1954- Brown v. Board of Education when The Supreme Court said school segregation is unconstitutional. 1971-Supreme Court gave its nod to busing students to achieve racial desegregation. Finally, school choice becomes a top issue with parents and many States begin giving financial vouchers to support families leaving public schools for private institutions.

Now, stop and consider the current educational landscape and embrace factors of school safety and learning. I believe we would all say that our childrens' safety is of utmost importance followed by  good schools. Therefore, since affluent white suburban kids, who are more inclined to mental illness than poor inner city black kids, are more likely to steal the unlocked guns of parents and go into suburban school buildings and shoot people, we can conclude that the inner city schools are safer.   Let's begin 'busing white kids' back into city schools for safety. We can then use the voucher money to improve the  teaching and physical environment of the city schools. Dadgumit, I can see the inner city schools having better tennis and swim teams already. Folks, who 'woulda thunk' that one day 'white' kids would be safer attending inner city black schools?

While some folks are hell-bent to build a wall to prevent would be 'thugs' from entering our country and doing us harm, we have our own seemingly 'normal' white kids entering school buildings and killing their classmates. Let's take the Mexican-border wall money and secure our schools and protect our children.
(Touch)
Hammer Out Warning

Summer Sounds

This May week is annually a 'downer.' I'll explain. Our backyard is adjacent to the playground of Our Lady of Lourdes Grade School, which includes youngsters in grades one through eight. Throughout the spring there is an endless parade of classes engaging in activities during recesses, physical education classes and lunch periods. While working in our yard or simply relaxing, my wife and I become accustom to the chatter of youthful voices. Suddenly summer vacation begins and there is an empty lot and silence. I don't like it. I don't like how it marks time either. What's the song, 'Time in a Bottle?'

Yesterday afternoon, I was in the quietness of my backyard recalling my own youthful sounds, sights and tastes. Perhaps these recollections will stir a memory or two for you. Evening sounds of kids calling out names in a game of hide & seek, nearby young girls asking "Mother may I?" I see sidewalk hop-scotch and four square markings. On this night there is a distinct sound of a can being kicked and a ball bat dropping to the pavement. A teen boy yells out news headlines as he hawks the evening newspapers. The news boy's voice fades and gives way to a more mature plea and boast from a push cart vendor who tells of his "Red Hots! Get Your Red Hots!" Oh my, those homemade tamales!

As a deeper darkness closes in the louder is the cicadas sound. The nine o'clock factory whistle  blows, a father whistles out the back door beckoning his young to come inside for the night.
A distance radio blares the voice of baseball broadcaster, Harry Caray pleading for his Cardinals to get that two-out RBI base hit.

The next day will bring a mid-morning side street softball game and an afternoon Indian-Ball baseball game. Boys will quench their summer cotton-mouth thirst on a neighbor's garden hose. Older kids know to let the younger boys be 'first' on that rubber hose to avoid that hot nasty taste. Early evening will offer a Little League baseball game or perhaps a locally sponsored community picnic with rides, smells and tastes of cotton candy, corn dogs and Double Cola soda, which is more welcomed than another stick of that powder-coated baseball card bubble gum. We'll leave the Knights of Columbus Picnic after the raffle winner of the Chevy Convertible is announced. The name will no doubt be that of an unknown from somewhere in Texas.

Occasionally, our family ventured to the drive-in theater and by dad's insistence we must leave early enough to secure 'that' spot next to the concession stand and restrooms. That location removed the necessity of parental concerns about kids going to the 'potty' or on a food run. The smell of popcorn and hamburgers were enticing but briefly extinguished by the mosquito fogging vapor machine passing down each aisle before the main feature. Just as it was important for my father to secure that third-row spot next to the concession stand, dad also had to be the first auto out of the theater grounds..."Hi Ho Chevy Bel Aire and a cloud of rock-dust...there goes the Roustio's!"
(Touch)
Summer Sounds & Sights

Don't Say 'I Do' Till You See The Whites of the Eye

Last Wednesday and Thursday night, I found sleep most elusive. Too much 'mind-clutter' does that to a person. As Friday late afternoon approached, I could sense that nightfall could not come soon enough; I was near collapse.

 Thank goodness, I was sleeping soundly by 9:00PM. Around the 4:00AM hour, I woke to a bright light thinking daylight had arrived. As I struggled to open one eye, I noticed the source of the light was the bedroom wall-mounted television. Before falling back to sleep, I saw fashionably dressed people and women wearing stylish large-brim hats. Delightfully, giving way to more sleep the thought I had was perhaps it was a rerun of last week's Kentucky Derby considering this Saturday was the Preakness Race. Several minutes later, I once again opened an eye to see the television showing some lavish wedding ceremony and I believed that my wife was watching one of those syrupy Hallmark Movies where unimaginably beautiful people fall in love after a third party is rejected, a snowball fight completed and a widowed father winks his approval. Again, back to sleep.

When I later had enough sleep, I woke and digested the reality that my wife is one of those Americans fascinated with Great Britain's Monarchy and Royal Pomp and Circumstance.
She was enthralled with Prince Harry's marriage to American actress, Meghan Markel. My wife is one who cannot wake before seven o'clock on any day. Obviously she was anticipating this wedding and either mentally geared herself to be awake or she set an alarm to make sure she saw this wedding.

Today, I'll stop by The Family Video store and rent either the movie 'Drums Along The Mohawk' starring Henry Fonda or Mel Gibson's, 'The Patriot.'  My wife needs a history re-fresher lesson.
(Touch)
Battle of New Orleans

Dumbing Down America

Let me preface this morning's rant with the following personal perspective. That which I am about to state and profile will not affect me personally one iota. Unfortunately, my grandchildren and great grandchildren will be adversely affected over time as will yours.

Everywhere I look I notice the minimizing of standards and expectations. It would appear that Benjamin Spock's 'feel good' child rearing has spilled over into many social, educational and entertainment institutions thus accommodating the mediocre to falsely embrace some notion of excellence.

Once public schools held a standard of 70% as the 'passing' grade. Today many public school districts subscribe to a lower passing standard of 60%. In the past many colleges and universities held a standard of a 3.28-to-3.9 GPA with a SAT Score between 1010-to-1200 for entrance requirement. Today the barometer looks more like 3.3 GPA with NO SAT Score submitted. At the University of Illinois most disciplines require an ACT minimum score of 28 for admission expect for the athletes who are accepted with a 17 ACT. Shame Shame.

Youth sports has been dumbed down drastically for fear of bruising some little turd-blossoms fragile ego. We don't keep score. Everybody bats and nobody strikes out. At season end, we all receive a  'show-up' trophy.

It does not stop at the amateur level. Our pro-athletes think they are 'all that' when they are NOT!
In 1957, Ted Williams (Boston Red Sox) had 420 at bats; struck out 43 times; had a batting average of .388 with 38 home runs. Williams made $150 thousand that season. Fifty-nine seasons later, Giancarlo Stanton (Miami) went to the plate 413 times and struck out 140. His batting average was .240 with 27 home runs. Stanton was paid $15 million for being a pimple on Ted Williams' butt.

Once in awhile a school teacher comes along and demands excellence and insists on classroom environment integrity. Her methods prove successful as strongly supported by her students' standardize scores. Yet, her methods are questioned because she demands disruptive students be handled by administrators. Of course, just as everybody can coach ten rows back in the bleachers, everybody will tell this teacher how to do her job.

My advice? Dumb it down, teacher. Give everybody an 'A' grade and allow chaos. Parents, student and administrators will love you. Speaking of dumbing-down, our current President epitomizes the new American standard for excellence!

My advice for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren: You will often try and fail. This is why you should develop the ability to focus on your strength to recover and succeed. You may find yourself walking slowly at times, just don't walk backwards. And finally, nobody can 'give' you success.

Lookin' Forward to Takin' It Easy.

I hear-tell that the 'mellow years' come with retirement. (Note: Grandpa E.V. Bennett used that phrase 'I hear tell' a lot...I'm ticketed to use it here). Those mellow years are supposed to be some kind of reward. It's that time in one's journey when a man can rid his life of competition, frustration, irritation, aggravation and agitation, which would leave me with only constipation.

Mellow years are not a myth. I saw Grandpa E.V. Bennett enjoy those laid-back days playing his fiddle, whittling and wiping his Mercury down twice a day. My paternal grandpa, Frank reached those mellow years after many chemical plant working years and arguing with anybody who'd give him an audience. Unfortunately, a bad heart cut short the mellow.

My own father enjoyed the mellow years only after declining health forced his hand. I can tell you that in his younger days there wasn't much mellow around him. He was not an angry man but he could 'get' angry. Rumor has it that our neighbor directly across the ally North of us always wore a hard hat when working in his back yard to avoid thrown objects from the Roustio yard when Dad got mad or frustrated working at a project...duck Mr. Dial, here comes a wrench!

One of the neat things about mellow years is that people gravitate to the elder statesman with grey hair as they seek his wise advice. Sounds magical to me. I can't wait to be that guy. I'm not stupid. I know the mellow years await me at my beckoning and I have made up my mind that just as soon as people around me appear to be smarter, assume responsibilities, and acknowledge their accountability's, I'm   going to drop my guard, dismiss my intense get-it-done personality and 'mellow-out.' Why, I may even leave later on Sunday mornings for church and risk all the good seats in the back be taken.
(Touch
Mellow YearsTake It Easy

Cookin' Up Memories

My mother was a good cook and let me say, she could flat-out pie bake! My wife is a very good cook and she also can knock it out of the park with desserts. The difference between my mother's menus and my wife's menus is the latter knows what I don't care to eat and does not prepare it. My mother never bothered to ask anybody if they liked certain foods. Mother was adventurous in her meal planning. She would try new dishes. I do most of our cooking these days and I also enjoy gambling on new menu attempts.

As a young boy I did not always care for some dishes mother put before the family. Here's a quick summary of a few plates that left me wanting. Pigs feet & pigstail. Beef brains & scrambled eggs. Liver & onions. Sausage & sauerkraut.  A funny thing happened on my journey, I developed a liking for sauerkraut and  liver & onions.

I recall watching my father clean his plate no matter what the dish item was that evening. I once asked him, while he was gnawing the meat off pig's feet, "How can you eat that stuff?" Without looking at me he said, "Boy, you've never been hungry!" The sincerity in his voice caused me not to press the issue.

Actually, I have been hungry. Not hungry in the way my father meant but I am hungry today for  mother's Swiss steak with red gravy and mashed potatoes topped off with a piece of her coconut cream pie. And since I'm 'wishing,' I'd like to return just one more time to a scene embedded in my mind. It's a rainy late afternoon...the year is 1949.  I'm a ten year old boy sitting on the screened back porch. I have my homemade spinner baseball game before me with a deck of baseball cards. My fantasy game is the  Cardinals versus the Brooklyn Dodger; names like Slaughter, Musial, Marion, Reese, Furillo and Campanell are called aloud as I announce my own play-by-play.

I can smell mom's dinner prep and hear the distant voice of Bing Crosby on the kitchen radio. Soon Dad will be home from Monsanto Chemical and all will be perfect...life is good.

 Gee, those were the days when I could sop up that red gravy with two pieces of bread and not give a-hoot-hell about the amount of carbohydrates.
(Touch)
That's What I Like

Words

Even passive once-in-awhile readers of this blog have come to learn that this writer is a 1940-50's product of East St. Louis, Illinois or as some younger East Siders reference it, East 'Boogie.' I'll accept that label if it means 'Boogie on Down' as in dancing.

Recently, I received an email from a age Contemporary friend regarding words and phrases of those aforementioned decades, which seem to have disappeared from the language landscape.

I ask you, when did you last hear these words or phrases if you ever heard them?

Fiddlesticks. Don't take any wooden nickels. Wake up a smell the roses. See you in the funny papers. Kilroy was here. Fine kettle of fish. I'll be a monkey's uncle. Oh, Swell! Penny Loafers. Saddles. Whitewalls. Runningboard. Fender Skirts. Fly Paper. Knickers. Spats. Pedal Pushers. Not for all the tea in China. Heavens to Betsy. You sound like a broken record. Gee whillikers. I'm tuckered. Straighten up and fly right. Holy moley. Don't touch that dial. See you later alligator.

Well, that's just a few phrases and words that have disappeared. I'm sure as you read them, you thought of several more. Hope your day goes well and you don't run into any knuckleheads and nincompoops.
(Touch)
The Bird is a Word

Thinking of Mother

My mother, Lucille Vickers Roustio died at age 93, five and a half years ago. She gave birth to three sons: Mel (79), Tom (74) and Marty (63). I loved and respected both my mother and father, as did my brothers. No doubt it was my father who had the greatest impact upon my life but it was my mother who as my greatest gift while my wife, Gerry is my greatest love.

In a moment of reflection, I share:

    THE GREATEST GIFT of LIFE

I sought her in all times of need,
A broken heart or skinned up knee.

She would comfort making all okay,
She eased my pain and sent me to play.
.
The years rolled by and challenges grew large,
My mother stood near to lead every charge.

"Big boys don't cry," I was told in the day,
Thankful my mother would show the way.

Bonding with my father was special indeed,
Yet assurance from mom was always my need.

Life unfolded and a sweetheart I would find,
Mother approved and loved from behind.

Life became busy with career and care,
Still often with mother I'd find time to share.

Little notes and messages she sent my way,
Still I read and cherish this very day.

Note:
I dearly miss hearing my mother's voice. It was a rather deep voice and sometimes a bit raspy. She had an infectious laugh so distinct. I recall as a very young child falling asleep in a nearby room while listening to her soothing voice in conversation with my father or visiting friends. Late in her life, I often telephoned her two or three times a day. I would like to claim that I did so to help 'make' her day, however I confess I did so to 'make' my day.

To those readers whose mothers are still living, I hope that you seek opportunities to embrace this wonderful gift. If your mother has departed this earthly journey, I hope for you precious memories.
(Touch)
Precious Mothers

'Mullin' & 'Ponderin'

Grandpa E.V. Bennett often used the words 'mullin' and 'ponderin.' Once standing in his orchard looking up at the ripening apples, he said he was ponderin' how he was going to pick them before they fell and were bruised. Shortly after his brief ponderin, I was up an apple tree with a gunny sack.

I've been doing my share of ponderin here lately about making financial ends meet in the future. I've saved a few bucks and I have a good teacher retirement but let's face it, prices continue to escalate and my teacher retirement is always in jeopardy in this corrupt State of Illinois.

Lately, I notice gasoline prices on the rise, grocery goods continue to soar and I hear horror stories about old people eating cat food, turning heat down in winter months to near freezing and don't even turn on the air condition during summer heat waves.

In their advanced years, my parents did not live with any of their children and I'm thinking I must follow that example. As I age and my mental faculties diminish, I struggle with directions, i.e. Putting things together and the medical communication with insurance companies brings my blood pressure into the stroke neighborhood.

Considering the aforementioned frustrations, I have develop a plan to beat the doom and gloom facing oldsters. When that time arrives and the money-well dries up, I plan to commit a felony! You heard me correctly. As a convicted felon, I will be incarcerated where I will have all life's essential: A roof over my head, three squares daily, free dental and medical attention. My prescription drugs will be free and heat and air will be available at no cost.

Right now, I'm 'ponderin' my criminal offense to commit.
(Touch)
Lock Me Up!

As If I Cared.

Sipping my McDonald's 'senior coffee' while waiting to meet a book and graphics designer, I overheard two ladies talking about various Decatur shopping experiences. One lady was adamant regarding her boycott of one particular store because she said, "That store hires too many gay people." My first thought was holy crap, I shop that store frequently and the sexual orientation of the employees never entered my mind.

My, my, I suppose I've been guilty of some type of shoppers' negligence. Instead of looking for product value and personal tastes, I evidently should be concerning myself with sexuality preferences of the store clerks, cashiers and stock boys. This opens up a whole mess of service people worries, which apparently places me in some peril because some folks ain't ' he'n and she'n but instead they are he'n and he' or she's and she'n.

I must now know the sexual orientation of the restaurant cook, hostess, waiter and dishwasher. Oh goodness, do I dare board a plane with a gay pilot at the helm? I must wonder and worry about a Muslim or lesbian making Hardee's biscuits & gravy. When I have surgery procedures should I concern myself with whom the anesthetist slept with the previous night?

Several years ago, a former basketball player whom I coached informed me that one of his teammates back then was gay. I said, "Really? The kid sure was a bad-ass bounder for us that season!"

Perhaps our society should adopt Nathaniel Hawthorne's 'Scarlett Letter' philosophy. In his novel, 'The Scarlett Letter' the main character, Hester Prynne gives birth to a child by another man other than her husband. Her punishment was wearing clothing in public with the red letter 'A' indicating 'adulteress.'

I don't care! I don't care about others' personal preferences in life just as long as they don't infringe upon my personal preferences. I do care if one publicly flaunts sexual preferences whether they be heterosexual or homosexual. And I do care if one publicly talks vulgar about sexual experiences. Aside from those two conditions feel free to float your own boat. Meanwhile, I would ask you to pray for me; I regularly watch Ellen DeGeneres and Anderson Cooper.
(Touch)
If I Didn't Care

Dizzy Talk

I spent a total of fifty-nine years in educational classrooms if you add public school years attendance and higher educational experiences topped with thirty-nine teaching years. This very day, I have five family members teaching in public schools and a number of grandchildren attending public schools and colleges.

A number of recent gun violence events in public schools have resulted in hundreds of lives lost and continues to stir a debate about the plethora of guns in society, mental illness and what should be done to resolve the issue. I'm guessing the solution to the problem would likely be found in addressing factors of 'gun control' and 'proper monitoring of the mentally ill.'

I refused to accept two theories that are frequently advanced: 1) The best way to stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun and 2) Let's give teachers guns. If these ideas are so damn good then somebody explain to me why the recent NRA Convention where Presidnt Trump spoke did not allow guns in the venue? Why can't I take a hand gun to the sporting event or the theater. I could be 'that good guy with a gun' stopping that bad guy with a gun.

The NRA folks wish for my teaching-family members to carry guns into the classroom but those same family members could not bring guns into the NRA's convention?  Some folks talk in circles...
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Dizzy

Let's Get Dirty!

It happens every spring. My love affair for 'dirt' must be satisfied. I attribute this annual ritualistic-need to the endless youth sandlot baseball games, little league games, high school and college diamond competition. (Note: I'll let you in on a secret if you promised not to tell any of my children for fear they might put me in a home. Here's my secret: I have my old baseball glove in a closet and every now and then, I take it out just to 'smell' the aroma of leather, dirt and sweat, which lingers on the glove.)

Yesterday, I returned from Lowe's and informed my wife, Gerry that I had Zucchini Plants, and Pepper Plants. I explained, "Gerry, Lowe's only had one GREEN pepper plant." She asked, "What color is it, Red or Yellow?" This is the same girl who asked me several years ago, "Have you noticed how dark it gets at night in the Lake of the Ozarks?"

Hey, we oldsters must keep busy, after all it's no coincidence that we get a lot of mail from Senior living centers. Recently, I opened a piece of mail that had large letters at the top reading: 'Apex Senior Center...A Senior Living Experience for the Spirited Individual.' That's code meaning: 'A Home for Forgetful and Cantankerous Old Farts!' That's us!
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Oldsters 'Get Down!'

If I Had My Way

This past Saturday mid-afternoon and I had finished planting several tomato plants when I realized I needed some additional tomato 'stakes.' I was tired from yard work and an early morning 2-mile walk. I was dirty, sweaty and wanted to get a shower and sit a spell. With rain and winds fore casted, I made a quick run to Lowe's for the 'stakes.'

The perfect weather seemed to have motivated many people to engage garden and yard-work projects as evidenced by the long checkout lines in Lowe's Garden area. I moved into line behind a gentleman perhaps in his late 80's who was negotiating his pull cart of plants towards the cashier. The gent appeared anxious as he kept looking back over his shoulder as if he'd lost something or was waiting for somebody. Finally, he spoke to me, "You can go ahead of me, I've got to help my wife." The man very slowly shuffled in small steps towards a woman bent over at the waist who was holding on to a shopping cart. The woman was extremely frail with a pale complexion and struggling to keep her balance as if she was walking on icy pavement.

Several nearby customers had their eyes glued on the couple as they attempted to make their way back to their goods in the checkout line. I helped the man move his cart closer to the cashier and  while he paid, I stood nearby his trebling wife fearing she may fall. As I stood there, I suddenly realized I was not so tired, I was not in such a great hurry and I felt a blessing.  I was witnessing two physically compromised elderly people demonstrating an incredible courageous spirit. They had purchased several beautiful plants, which I assume they had done for many previous springs during their long loving relationship. In their advanced years and fighting the ravages of age, they refused to abandon that joy. As I walked to my auto, I observed a young male Lowe's worker loading the old couple's auto while two other Lowe's workers flanked the couple to assist their balance as they slowly made their way.

I sat for a spell before starting my auto and whispered a prayer for comforting grace upon the couple and a thankfulness for witnessing such a special loving moment.
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If I Had My Way

So Blessed

Recently, I checked into Decatur Memorial Hospital as an out-patient for my fourth endoscopy procedure in the past three and a half years. The first was to address symptoms, which confirmed ulcers, which have been successfully medicated. A follow up 'peek' checking those ulcers disclosed a tumor in the small intestines, which proved to be benign but needed removal and monitoring. Six months following removal of that polyp revealed benign biopsies; game plan was a one year later endoscopy, which went down last week and still suggests that all is 'clean.' Praise God for healing grace. Praise God for a skilled pro-active gastroenterologist.

How do I process these on-going blessings? I'm allowed to 'hang-around' at age 79 for something more than soaking up blessings and personal pleasures...I must seek ways and opportunities to serve others as my Lord commanded in Matthew 25:40 "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for the least of my brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."

On the lighter side of a hospital procedure moment, follow this patient-doctor exchange:
Before the endoscopy procedure the gastroenterologist walked into my room...

Doctor: "Good morning Mel, how are you doing?" (Hand shake)
Mel: "I feeling pretty good Doc, how are you doing?"
Doctor: "Ah, I'm a little shaky this morning...but hopefully it will go away soon."

Enter the endoscopy procedure room>

Mel: "Hi folks. Everybody awake and washed their hands?"
Voices: "Yes on the hand wash...no on the awake part."
Mel: " I'm a Cardinals' fan, how many Cardinals' fans in the room?" (3-of-4 hands go up)
Fourth lady walks to my gurney and speaks: "I'm a Cubs' fan and I am also your anesthetist. You want to give me a Go Cubbies?"
Mel: "GO CUBBIES!"
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Why Me?

Shake-A-Leg, Boy!

I have my fair share of faults; just ask my wife, my kids and most people who know me. The only thing that saves me from becoming depressed about this reality is the fact my dog thinks I'm the greatest! The one fault I don't have and have never had is I don't 'procrastinate.' I never put things off. I don't dillydally. If I'm late, there's been an accident, traffic jam or I died.

I mention this because I recall a study about 'procrastination' several years ago that concluded 'procrastination' had increased dramatically in the past thirty years. It seems that 26% of Americans 'procradtinate.' Interestingly the study had a five year grant for completion but took ten years to accomplish completion...so much for 'study-credibility.' That is a staggering number...26%. This means you cannot depend on one-fourth of your friends or family members.

I give all the credit to my parents for instilling this trait of 'acceleration,' to quicken the pace, expedite the matter and never procrastinate! My parents NEVER asked me to DO something. That parenting approach would have left me with the illusion that I had a choice. My dad would say things like, "Hey boy, take out the trash and shake-a-leg." Okay, he wanted the trash out of the house, he wanted me to be the courier and he was talking about the current trash not tomorrow's trash. Parents back then were screwed up. They never took the time to read one of those parenting books explaining a child's 'feelings.'
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Just Do It...Now!

Get Outta The Way! Make Room for #1

Much gibberish-jabber about nuclear weapons lately, eh? North Korea has obviously developed nukes therefore the United States imposed economic sanctions on that country and now the leaders of the two nations will have a summit, exchanged lies and sign nebulous documents as leaders grin and shake hands in photo ops.

My research reveals over two dozen nations with nuclear 'power' and nine nations with nuclear 'weapons.' Try as I have, I cannot find out what nation(s) hold the authority that grants approval to nations wishing to 'develop' nuclear weapons. Most Americans I talk with express the attitude that 'we' the United States gets to decide. Surprise, Surprise! We are God's special people! Perhaps we decide because we have the most nuke weapons.

Go figure...we have a large NRA contingency in this country that freaks out anytime there is mention of 'gun control' and yet these very same mental morons see nothing wrong telling other people in other nations that they cannot freely and fully defend 'their' land and their home. Why is that? I suppose those folks are disqualified because they speak another language, worship a different God or perhaps have different skin pigmentation? In any event, I'm sure our reasoning is 'solid.'
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We're Number One> We Decide.

Speak O' Lord

While walking and praying recently, I wondered if God might someday speak to me; you know, the way others say God spoke to them. Every once in awhile some preacher fella will claim that God told him to tell others to do something...the something usually appears to 'send the preacher some money.'

The good book tells the story about the time God spoke to Noah and told Noah to build a boat. As a kid, I liked hearing that story over and over. My favorite modern day 'God spoke to me story' is the time Preacher Oral Roberts told his followers that God spoke to him and said he needed to raise a certain amount of money will hon a defined time period or Oral would die. Now that had to be a stressful chat. In the past, I sent Oral money and he sent me a piece of tiny rope that was tied in a knot...wasn't good for anything. This plea from Oral for money didn't move me, besides Oral looked sick anyway. Well, the allotted time passed and Oral fell short of the money amount God told him he needed to raise...Oral didn't die. This means one of two things: Either Oral lied about the God-conversation or God gave Oral an extension.

I get a bit angry when politicians tell me that God spoke to them. Like the time President George W.  told reporters he spoke to his Father in Heaven before bombing Iraq. That kinda suggests that God 'signed off' on that mission...I don't like that implication at all!

I must stop my writing at this moment. I just heard a voice from above call my name. The voice was strong and deep. It said, "Come get this laundry basket and take the dog out!" My master has spoken...at least the earthly one.
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Speak O' Lord