I've Lost My GQ

Back in the day, I was 'up-to-snuff' on the latest fashions. Now, there's a phrase you don't hear often: 'up to snuff.' The phrase dates back to the 19th century and originally was stated, 'He's up to snuff and a pinch above it.' Meaning that guy is 'IN' the know and more! The saying has reference to that powdered tobacco substance.

Anyway, back to my point. During the appropriate fashion time, I wore Levi's, cord pants (both blue & brown stripes), pegged pants, bell bottoms, St. Louis 'orange' thread needle shoes, Mr. 'B' collar-shirts, white buck shoes and I had two hats; a straw and big brim white w/ black ban Stetson. All that fashion style and a butch waxed flat top haircut. OMG, is it any wonder that I dated the prettiest East St. Louis girl?

The aforementioned established, I must today admit that I am fashion clueless. My failure to watch television 'Red Carpet' events caused me to miss out on the latest clothing style. For example: I did NOT know that it is vogue these days to wear floppy fluffy (animal theme) house-slippers and pajamas bottoms when shopping at Target and Walmart.

Beats Hell Out Of Me

I was eight years-old. My parents gave me a BB gun for my birthday. I got very good shooting at targets. I pulverized the cardboard bulls eye target and soon I was knocking tin cans off the backyard fence with the rapid-fire of a Wild West sharpshooter. One aspect about myself that I noted at a very early age was the blessing of great eyesight. I always had excellent depth perception, eye-object tracking skills and eye-hand coordination. As stated much is simply a gift.

Of course, as a youngster, I soon became bored with inanimate-object target shooting. I finally decided that I would shoot at some birds. I spotted a Blue Jay high in a front yard tree and took aim. One squeeze of the BB gun trigger and the bird immediately fell limp at my feet below and lay there motionless. I had killed the bird. It was so brilliantly blue and with a majestic crown. I felt sick at my stomach. Why?  I took the dead bird to the backyard and dug a grave where I buried it. I took my BB gun to the basement and placed it on a shelf. I never picked that gun up again.

I do not judge those who love their guns and shooting games. I refuse to judge those who hunt for game, which is used for food. That said, I will never understand what man draws upon to kill animals for the simple joy of the kill; causing death. I simply cannot fathom what makes a person desire to thrill-kill and be-head a living creature and then put the detached head for a trophy.

Whoa Be The Day of Reckoning

The other morning after finishing my prayers, I paused; just in case God wanted to 'speak' to me. There have been many people who claim that God spoke to them and not only told them what they should do but told them to tell me what I should do. Many years ago, Evangelist Oral Roberts said God told him that he'd die if he failed to raise a certain amount of money...that's where I came in, I was supposed to send Oral some cash.

I recall after G. W. Bush invaded Iraq, he was asked by a reporter if he had spoken to his father before making that decision. Pres. Bush said, "I spoke to my Heavenly Father before making that decision?" George did stop short of suggesting God gave him the green light. He ma be challenged but he is not stupid. Actually, there is a common denominator between some preachers and some politicians. They often invoke the use of God's name for personal gain. Preachers want your money and politicians want your vote. Define impiety or blasphemy.

If you doubt what I suggest regarding God speaking to folks and giving instructions impacting others' lives, I would invite you to watch Sunday morning television and channel surf the plethora of preachers asking for money from you at God's advice and direction.

Actually, it would be nice if God would speak to me daily or at least email me. Petsmart emails me every day. Meanwhile, I'll continue to interpret scriptures and pick at my preacher's sermons to get God's Word.

'Lifters & Drainers'

I came across an old scrapbook and noted a photo of me with the 1956, East St. Louis YMCA Director, Ray Sonnenberg. That summer, I was one of two high school athletes who served as a youth counselor for the YMCA Day Camp Program.

Sonnenberg was somewhat of a sport legend in the Metro-East area. He starred in basketball at Collinsville high school and St. Louis University. He later officiated in the NFL. Aside from working for him that summer of '56, I often visited with Ray in my later adult years. Ray Sonnenberg was that rare individual whom I call a 'spirit-lifter.' You know the kind. That person with whom you visit and you walk away from the conversation feeling happy, energized and rejuvenated with positive vibes. Why? Because the inquiries about your life were so specific and sincere. Ray made others feel important.

After thinking about the late, Ray Sonnenberg, I began making a mental list of other individuals I've known who possessed and possess those similar 'up-lifting' traits. I did manage a rather extensive list of names and recall fond memories of each. I then thought of the individuals in my journey who were and are 'drainers.' Those people that rob your spirit and 'drain' your energies. Wow, those 'drainer-names' come much more rapidly than the lifter-names and the 'drain' list grows much longer.

Suddenly, I thought to myself...This is not a good mental exercise. One cannot control others' presentations in our lives. We can only enjoy the spirit lifters and minimize contact with the energy-drainers.

Oh, there is one other thing we can and should control...make sure our own name is in the 'spirit-lifter' group.

Think About It

Just got back from our family doctor's office. One of those six-month's med-checks. You oldsters know the routine. We must visit the doctor before he will release prescriptions for the next half-year, which keep us on the green-side of the grass.

Everything appears to be okay except the fact that I am 'shrinking.' The nurse measured and weighed me. She said that I was 6 foot two niches. Hey, when I married my wife fifty-five years ago, I measured a strapping 6' 3" and perhaps I was considered by some as a 'stud.' This characterization is no longer accurate; I said, I'm 'shrinking!'

What a Slick Move !

 The other morning standing at the kitchen window having my daily glass of tomato juice, I was looking at things in the backyard. My wife's flowers are beautiful, the swing is always inviting and the Arbor with its climbing vines looks smart sporting the antique Gaslight Square ice cream table and chairs. However, something is missing...I finally realized, we have no alley. In fact, I cannot recall the last neighborhood visited where I noticed an alley. For those who may not understand my shock, the alley was a neighborhood staple sure as a home having front and back doors.

The alley is an easement lane between two properties; that narrow passageway between two backyards. Back in my youth, I recall most alley ways were covered with chat or ciders. We used to spread our stoker ciders from the furnace onto our alley. The alley was a good place to play 'bottle caps baseball." The alley was where all home owners placed garbage cans for trash pick ups. In today's modern age of technology, more elegant landscaping and greater sophistication home owners place the garbage cans and trash in the front of their homes for pick up.

We'll Do That Again

My wife and I returned two days ago from the Ozarks where we enjoyed the scenery and entertainment in Branson, Missouri. We travel to this quaint community often. Usually, we take in the annual summer performances and try to visit the Christmas pageantry every other season. Branson seemingly attracts families with young kids and oldsters riding tour buses. As a young man, back in the day, I vacationed on beaches where young dollies sported the latest swimsuit fashions covering hard bodies with 'perky points.' Branson offers the more mature babes sporting a Grandkid bragging
T-shirt, which covers soft bodies with 'sagging points.'

Actually, my wife and I do these vacation things for two reasons. First, we like to breakup our rather mundane routines and secondly, we seek the vacation experience to 'share.' Let me elaborate. Most often, we invite and take on vacation one or two grandchildren or we hook up with our adult kids who then bring along our grandkids.

 Two years ago, we took Granddaughters Erica and Kaitlyn to Branson. Current circumstances finds an age gap of available grandkids who are old enough to to make the gig. Therefore, we took Kaitlyn and asked her to bring along a friend. She did. Brianna was our 'rented' grandkid for the trip. Perhaps next year Shannon and Alexa will be 'ready.'

Thank God for health, hearing aids, cataract surgery and AARP discounts. Yes, I always take Toy Poodle, Yodie with me wherever I travel. Aside from being my best buddy, Yodie offers me 'responsibility exercise,' with his regularity needs, which helps initiate my regularity needs.............. it's a win-win relationship.