Viewing on an iPhone is a little better on "web version."
HOTBUTTONS
Joey: Hey Gramps!
Gramps: Hi Joey. And for what reason do I have for this pleasure?
Joey: I was wondering if you would do me a favor and help with a school project?
Gramps: Sure. What is it?
Joey: Well, it's for my Civics class. Mr. Horton's assignment is to ask three people their opinions on
who was America's best President and who was the worst. They have to be from three
different age groups, for instance I can have one young, one middle age and one elderly.
Gramps: I'm in. Who are you getting for the young person and the elderly person?
Joey: Uh....Well I asked Uncle Tim...and I asked Jimmy Jones who graduated a few years ago.
Gramps: Hmmmmm. So that makes me...the...uh...el..derly?
Joey: Well, yeah...elderly or senior citizen I guess.
Gramps: Joey. I'm 59 and 3/4 years old. Did you know that Gordie Howe played professional hockey
until he was 51 years old?
Joey: Gordie who?
Gramps: Not "who," Howe.
Joey: How what?
Gramps: Never mind.
Joey: Wow! you knew a lot about sports when you were young.
Gramps: So do you just want me to name the Presidents?
Joey: Well, you're supposed to give your thoughts on why you chose them.
Gramps: That's a cinch....what do you mean "when I was young?" Did you know that Tom Watson, he's
five months older than me by the way, led most of the way in last year's U. S. Open?
Joey: Was that the "Senior" league?
Gramps: No that wasn't the Seeenior league! Well, hey anyway, if there there's things I got to give, it's
opinions, opinions and opinions.
Joey: Great. I've got a recorder here so you can just talk and I'll write down your answers later.
Gramps: OK, here we go. By the way. Did you know that Grandma Moses didn't start painting until
she was in her 70s? That's 7...zero...70s!
Joey: Was she my great-grandma?
Gramps: No. Never mind. You know, I was thinking. The name "Gramps" makes one sound old....
now you can't really call me Wilbur?
Joey: Did you have a nickname when you were...uh...real... real young?
Gramps: Well, yeah. They called me "bolthead" because I liked to fix cars so much.
Joey: Bolt......head?
Gramps Not, bolt......head, Bolthead. The girls loved it!
Joey: So you want me to call you Grandpa Bolthead?
Gramps: Let's just forget it. Back to this assignment...take a seat and fasten your seat belt for you
hit on two hot buttons today.
Joey: Hey, you got a lot of "hot buttons." How about if I call you "Hot Buttons?"
Gramps: Hot Buttons huh? Yeah, that'll work.
Joey: Did my dad have a nickname when he was young?
Hot Buttons: Yes he did but I think that he should be the one who tells you...if he wants to. OK, here we
go...cough, cough...ah-hem! I've actually thought about this before. My vote for the greatest
President was the Gipper.
Joey: The what?
Hot buttons: The Gipper!. You mean that you didn't know that Ronald Reagan's nickname was "the Gipper?"
Well let me tell you something else that you may not know. Reagan was a couple of weeks
short of 70 years old, that's 7...zero...70, when he was inaugurated our 40th president. Anyway
I look at three areas when trying to make a choice like this. How did the economy do during his
his presidency, how about our foreign policy and national defense...and was the American public
changed in any way while he was in office? On the economy...America prospered, primarily due
to tax cuts for the American people, after the malaise of the Carter Administration. Do you know
what "malaise" means?
Joey: No!
Hot Buttons: Neither do I but put it in anyway...it sounds good. Anyway, Reagan strengthened our military,
that and our growth was a death knell for the Soviet Union. As for the "spirit" of Americans...
his words, always beautiful and profound... inspired, they motivated, they instilled a confidence in
in the people, they melted even his strongest detractors. He was the quintessential example of
leadership. Do you know what "quintessential" means?
Joey: Yeah.
Hot Buttons: Good. Tell me later. So that's my choice for our greatest President. As for the worst? Joey... this is
sad in talking about for it's our current President. I knew from the beginning that I disagreed with
his policies but I wasn't prepared for what transpired, and it continues almost every day. The
bailouts, admittedly started by his predecessor, and the stimulus packages that put us so deeply
in debt that we will never overcome this burden, the attack on "business" in general that appears
to come from deep inward hostility towards America's worldwide economic prowess, and
the taxation that will make "all" Americans totally dependent on what their government allows,
these things, and others, make him America's worst President on our economy. The national
defense and foreign policy is even worse, if possible. Our longstanding advantage in military
capabilities is being eroded. Aircraft and navies of governments who are not friends of ours, are
catching up and may surpass us. Our allies are on "pins and needles" as they try to determine
what we will do in an emergency. Lastly, the American public has become two peoples in one
nation, one still resembling America's heritage and the other being cast in the European mold, and
even the worst of that mold! This President plays to our weaknesses instead of challenging us
to analyse. He's undoing all that Martin Luther King accomplished. He lumps honest dissenters
in with terrorists and lumps terrorists in with honest Muslims. And we are only 18 months into his
term! Well...that's about it.
Joey: Thanks a lot Hot Buttons. I'll tell my dad how much you helped me. He's the one that
recommended you for the el...der...ly person.
Hot Buttons: Squiggy!
Joey: Squiggy?
Hot Buttons: Yeah...Squiggy. That was your dad's nick-name. Tell Squiggy that Hot Buttons says "You're
welcome!"
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Da 'Gang a Six'
Bam...bam...bam!
"Hey Rocky..ain't you supposed to knock po..litely!"
"Dis is my po..lite knock kid."
The door opened and there stood the Senator himself.
"Ah...Rocky...isn't it"
"You got a good memory Senator, dat tarp bill was a long time ago." Rocky began to giggle, an odd sight for a pudgy, stout, bowling ball of man.
"Heh heh, sorry bout dat but I put a few 'Bills' in a tarp in my day but never a tarp in a Bill. Dis is my friend T-bone. I'm learning him da trade."
"Well, Rocky...and... T-bone...what can I help you with? I have to be present for a roll call in ten minutes."
"Heh heh" Rocky giggled again as he lifted his fat hand to his mouth..
"Something funny in dat...er...that... Rocky?"
"No...Well yeah. It reminds me of da roll calls I used to have to show up at in da pen. Dem was good times."
The Senator's eyes rolled and he looked around to see if his secretary was in earshot. She wasn't.
"Once again Rocky, what can I help you with?"
"Well, da gang a six sent me over here with a gift." He giggled again and apologized. "Sorry bout dat again, but I bin in a lotta gangs in my tirty-tree years on da street, and even a few in my tirty years of being incarcerated for crimes I never admitted ta doin, but I mean deez guys are more like dos' hucksters dat roust ya up to see da bearded lady at da circus. Know what I mean....but I guess dey are pretty good at scarin old ladies." He stretched out his hand with the envelope. "Its tickets to da opra."
"The Opera?"
"Yeah, its Rigoletto. Dats my favorite."
"You're...you're a fan of the opera?"
"Yeah. Well just dis one. I like da part where the guy stuffs the body in da sack. I been dere...know what I mean?."
The senator looked around again and said hurriedly. "Thank you Rocky and If I can, I'll try to make the opera but we have been awful busy lately with budget talks."
"Oh, I don't tink you'll be busy dat day." He pulled a large handful of envelopes out a bag that T-bone was carrying. "I got free tickets here for all da Democrat Senators, and even a few for dose udder ones. Da 'gang a six'...heh heh...says dere's a good message in dis opera and dey wants to make sure everyone gets dat message."
"Well thank you again. Good-bye."
He started to close the door but Rocky stuck his foot in it for one more comment.
"You know. I bin tinkin about runnin to be a Senator."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I'm gettin too old for dis business. Such is why I am learning T-bone here. Da next time I gotta deliver tickets or a dead fish or sump'm, it'll probably be T-bone here. I figger if Al Franken can make it, den I can"
The Senator nodded and said " You may have a point there," and was about to close the door but could not help but asking. "Ah, Rocky. And what state would you be ...runnin...in?"
"Ya mean ya get to pick one? I tink I might like to be da Senator from Las Vegas?"
With this the Senator did close the door.
"Hey Rocky..ain't you supposed to knock po..litely!"
"Dis is my po..lite knock kid."
The door opened and there stood the Senator himself.
"Ah...Rocky...isn't it"
"You got a good memory Senator, dat tarp bill was a long time ago." Rocky began to giggle, an odd sight for a pudgy, stout, bowling ball of man.
"Heh heh, sorry bout dat but I put a few 'Bills' in a tarp in my day but never a tarp in a Bill. Dis is my friend T-bone. I'm learning him da trade."
"Well, Rocky...and... T-bone...what can I help you with? I have to be present for a roll call in ten minutes."
"Heh heh" Rocky giggled again as he lifted his fat hand to his mouth..
"Something funny in dat...er...that... Rocky?"
"No...Well yeah. It reminds me of da roll calls I used to have to show up at in da pen. Dem was good times."
The Senator's eyes rolled and he looked around to see if his secretary was in earshot. She wasn't.
"Once again Rocky, what can I help you with?"
"Well, da gang a six sent me over here with a gift." He giggled again and apologized. "Sorry bout dat again, but I bin in a lotta gangs in my tirty-tree years on da street, and even a few in my tirty years of being incarcerated for crimes I never admitted ta doin, but I mean deez guys are more like dos' hucksters dat roust ya up to see da bearded lady at da circus. Know what I mean....but I guess dey are pretty good at scarin old ladies." He stretched out his hand with the envelope. "Its tickets to da opra."
"The Opera?"
"Yeah, its Rigoletto. Dats my favorite."
"You're...you're a fan of the opera?"
"Yeah. Well just dis one. I like da part where the guy stuffs the body in da sack. I been dere...know what I mean?."
The senator looked around again and said hurriedly. "Thank you Rocky and If I can, I'll try to make the opera but we have been awful busy lately with budget talks."
"Oh, I don't tink you'll be busy dat day." He pulled a large handful of envelopes out a bag that T-bone was carrying. "I got free tickets here for all da Democrat Senators, and even a few for dose udder ones. Da 'gang a six'...heh heh...says dere's a good message in dis opera and dey wants to make sure everyone gets dat message."
"Well thank you again. Good-bye."
He started to close the door but Rocky stuck his foot in it for one more comment.
"You know. I bin tinkin about runnin to be a Senator."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I'm gettin too old for dis business. Such is why I am learning T-bone here. Da next time I gotta deliver tickets or a dead fish or sump'm, it'll probably be T-bone here. I figger if Al Franken can make it, den I can"
The Senator nodded and said " You may have a point there," and was about to close the door but could not help but asking. "Ah, Rocky. And what state would you be ...runnin...in?"
"Ya mean ya get to pick one? I tink I might like to be da Senator from Las Vegas?"
With this the Senator did close the door.
And more recently...
AND AGAIN...
Bam...bam...bam!
The door opens at the senator's home.
"Well...Rocky....It's been a while. I thought you were going to retire?"
"And so I did Senator. I been sittin' in my easy chair for over a year watching dat Jerry Springer. It's nice to see ya again!"
"It was...T-bone...wasn't it, who was supposed to replace you?"
"Hey, you remembered T-bone! He had a very unfortunate accident and I had to come back to woik."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yeah, so was he."
"What happened?"
"...Ah...He slipped on a patch of ice."
"Rocky, we haven't had any ice yet this fall."
"Did I say ice. I meant leaves...a patch a leaves, but dey was goin to...lay him off...heh heh... anyway for he had a nasty habit of asking too many questions."
"Questions...like what?"
"Like.....where'd you get dose shoes...or...got any gum on you. Our motto is 'ours ain't to wonder why, ours but to do and lie'."
"Ah...Alfred Lord... Tennyson!"
"No... Dirty Harry... Reid."
"Well anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this time?"
Rocky reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a snub nosed 38 and the senator immediately stiffened.
"Hey hey, no worries Senator I'm just looking for...." he pulled out two bolts...and a half-eaten tuna sandwich..."here dey are"... holding two pennies out to the Senator.
"Two pennies?"
"Yeah...two cents. Senator H. saw your comments on television yesterday, you know where you said you were just putting your two cents worth in on dat fiscal cliff thing...heh heh."
"What's so funny?"
"Oh dat toim...fiscal cliff...It makes me tink a da good ole days when my woik day would offen end up at da edge of a cliff."
"And the two cents?"
"Well, da Senator says dat dis is da two cents for your comments and if you should ever feel da need to give your two cents worth again...dey will be da last two cents you ever get from da Dems...heh heh. Dat guy may look like a prune but he really got a sense of humor...get it...'cents' of humor?"
"I get it Rocky. Thank-you again....and aah...Good-bye."
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B-3-2
"It was...T-bone...wasn't it, who was supposed to replace you?"
"Hey, you remembered T-bone! He had a very unfortunate accident and I had to come back to woik."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yeah, so was he."
"What happened?"
"...Ah...He slipped on a patch of ice."
"Rocky, we haven't had any ice yet this fall."
"Did I say ice. I meant leaves...a patch a leaves, but dey was goin to...lay him off...heh heh... anyway for he had a nasty habit of asking too many questions."
"Questions...like what?"
"Like.....where'd you get dose shoes...or...got any gum on you. Our motto is 'ours ain't to wonder why, ours but to do and lie'."
"Ah...Alfred Lord... Tennyson!"
"No... Dirty Harry... Reid."
"Well anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this time?"
Rocky reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a snub nosed 38 and the senator immediately stiffened.
"Hey hey, no worries Senator I'm just looking for...." he pulled out two bolts...and a half-eaten tuna sandwich..."here dey are"... holding two pennies out to the Senator.
"Two pennies?"
"Yeah...two cents. Senator H. saw your comments on television yesterday, you know where you said you were just putting your two cents worth in on dat fiscal cliff thing...heh heh."
"What's so funny?"
"Oh dat toim...fiscal cliff...It makes me tink a da good ole days when my woik day would offen end up at da edge of a cliff."
"And the two cents?"
"Well, da Senator says dat dis is da two cents for your comments and if you should ever feel da need to give your two cents worth again...dey will be da last two cents you ever get from da Dems...heh heh. Dat guy may look like a prune but he really got a sense of humor...get it...'cents' of humor?"
"I get it Rocky. Thank-you again....and aah...Good-bye."
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B-3-2
Honestly, it doesn't seem like 43 years since I joined the army but with these Shingles that have been nagging me for over two months it seems that long since I had a good night's sleep. At 62 years old, it often feels as if every bone in my body aches as my feet first hit the floor in the morning and I walk like an Egyptian...Mummy that is... on my way to get washed up. I am then still tired and often remind myself that in Heaven no one is tired, there are no aching bones and praise to our God, Joni Eareckson Tada will be the nimblest one there! A couple of years ago I went back to Pittsburgh's Federal Building to see an old friend. I stood in the lobby and looked towards the glass doors and could almost picture myself walking through them, suitcase in hand, back in 1969. Why God had mercy on one such as I... I will never know in this life. Why would He give blessings to one that He knew would trample them? If you have never had thoughts such as this, you must run out to get them. If you are a Christian and certain talk about God seems a little bit too syrupy for you then you must find out why. I don't believe that it's a litmus test for being a Christian, rather more of an eye test where for some believers only the top few lines are clear. The following blog from last year is about my eight weeks in Basic Training. Many memories remain but none as vital as that of a 19 year old who did not know Christ nor his need of Christ. It would be roughly 13 years till the first line on that eye chart became clear enough for me to call out to Jesus Christ. It would probably be close to another 13 years until I found out that I was indeed dead in my sins and could not have called out, and could never call out without first being regenerated from above.... a salvation even more amazing!!
It was September 19th, 1969. My aunt had driven me to the Federal Building in Pittsburgh and my mother was also in the car. I said my good-byes as I got out in front of the main entrance. The light was just breaking from the east and I followed the directions given to me and got on the elevator to go up to the floor where enlistments were taking place. There might have been thirty or forty of us there that day. We were given meal tickets for lunch and spent the morning filling out paperwork. At lunch I strolled around the floor that the cafeteria was on for I was not, as of yet, in this man's army. After lunch we took our physicals, the standard turn your head and cough variety, in a line of men standing around in their briefs. We filled out some additional paperwork including signing the enlistment papers and finally were ushered into a small room with the Stars and Stripes proudly hanging at the front. We were told to raise our right hands and repeat the oath of enlistment. Finally in the army? Most of the guys were directed to buses with a final destination of Fort Jackson, South Carolina but Harry W. and I were on another bus headed to Pittsburgh International Airport to catch a flight to Philly. Walking around the airport, I still did not feel like I was in the Army. Harry W. was a wonderful guy who resembled Drew Carey only not as good looking, was only a little taller than Danny DeVito and had a bad case of acne. The stewardesses were very pretty and Harry W. was really putting on the moves. The ladies were literally falling all over him...and ignoring me. Now what was wrong with this picture? I figured that personality must have something to do with this girl thing and that maybe I should try to get one...never did though. We arrived in Philly and followed directions once again to a limousine that would take us to Fort Dix, New Jersey... one long haired hippy type and a short, balding one who had a way with the girls. It was about midnight when we finally arrived at the wooden framed hut. Once again we were filling out paperwork with others who were arriving one by one. We were given mattresses and a couple of sheets and told to find a bunk....the end of a very long day. Finally in the Army? Morning came with loud shouts to hustle across the street for some breakfast and then report back. We were not marched because we had not yet been told which was our left foot and which our right. Next came a longer wooden building where we were issued the standard gear of fatigues, boots, socks, green underwear, a hat and duffel bag to put them all in. One better have the sizes ready for there were no questions taken and no words accepted except small, medium or large. I looked at myself in the mirror. Finally in the army? Nah. After lunch it was another cattle drive over to the barber's hut which had six long pew like benches and a long line of guys sliding down one place at a time as the one in front had his head shaved. To this day I wonder if these were actual barbers or if this was a second job after running a backhoe at night for it took less than a minute to run those clippers up and down the scalp. I put my hat back on and now it came down over my eyebrows. There I was, outfitted and bald. Finally in the army? We were introduced, if I can use that phrase, to a Drill Sergeant who was cordial and related stories from Vietnam for it seemed that all of them had just returned. This wasn't so bad after all. We spent two days being led around to various stations including the dentist where we established records to be kept until the day we would leave the army. Then came a surprise. We were bused over to another section of Fort Dix where the buildings were all brick. Off the bus we were herded and told to go into the barracks, find a cot to dump our duffel bags on and come right back out. We did this and casually formed some semblance of a line. Then Drill Sergeant Carter appeared out of no where. We were told exactly what we looked like and as I remember it had something to do with goats, Gilligan and Bullwinkle J. Moose. This guys jaw definitely jutted out farther than his nose. He was built solid and stood firm as a rock and we were later told that he still had plenty of metal in his back from Vietnam. Back to the barracks and the lights were out at nine. The next thing that I knew I was flying off the bunk into the air simultaneously as the lights came on. I was the unlucky one to pick the first bunk from the door. It was 5 AM and we had five minutes to be outside in formation. I still didn't know what a formation was. Left Face was the command and I was face to face with another guy. Panic had set in for one of us turned the wrong way. Fortunately the other guy was wrong and he was questioned as to what grade in elementary he ended his schooling in. We then started out in the darkness on my first actual march which soon became a quick time as we were then repeating, rather yelling, after Drill Sergeant Carter, that we wanted to be airborne rangers...go to Vietnam and kill those Viet Cong. Finally in the army? Reaching the mess hall we entered in a rather strange way. One line was released at a time and was to charge the mess hall yelling like banshees. I guessed there was a reason for that. One week followed another of pushing, shoving, marching, running, push-ups, climbing, shouting, singing and lunging with a bayonet. Six weeks into basic we were finally allowed to go to the PX. Most guys bought stationary, candy, cigarettes and paperback books. I bought Ian Fleming's Goldfinger. Finally came our week on the rifle range. I had never held a rifle in my life. When a recruit had a rifle in his hands he also had a Drill Sergeant two inches from his ear. They must think that we might turn the wrong way. No one complained. I was firing at targets I could not see and had no idea if I was hitting them but I must have because I did not have to go back. If someone had to urinate...silly comment...there was a large vat buried in the ground. No problem here...until it got filled up and had to be emptied. A small crane was brought in and four unlucky guys had to stand around it, shoveling and shaking it back and forth to get it free all the while standing in four to six inched of urine. Guess who one of those unlucky guys was? Finally in the army? We were bonding heavily as the fourth platoon and even more so to Drill Sergeant Carter. We were on a mission to win that PT award and we didn't particularly have any feelings of camaraderie towards the other three platoons, one of which occupied the other half of the floor we were on and one night we wound up in a big scrum, fighting over who got the mops and buckets first. Graduation came. It had been eight long, hard weeks. We, the fourth platoon, were psyched as we waited for the announcement of the PT award for we desperately wanted Drill Sergeant Carter to be acknowledged for it. And he was! Our squad leader was to march us back to the barracks and we had a fine idea to form the number four and march in it. The breaks on a car squealed and a Colonel got out who did not appreciate the meaning. He was up one side of that squad leader and down the other with words that one might expect out of the mouth of Hillary Clinton but not an officer in the United States Army. We were given the last night off and headed over to the EM Club for our first beers in two months. Walking, if you can call it that, back to the barracks, one of us fell out of a tree in front of us. Now how one could be with us one moment and then fall out of a tree in front of us the next, I never did find out. Finally in the army? When morning came we all waited around a slew of buses to take us to our advanced training with most going in different directions. We were given our platoon picture that morning and passed them around to be signed. I still have this picture with about forty signatures on the back. I alone got on the bus that was to take me to Fort Devins, Massachusetts and waved to the guys that I would never see again the rest of my life. Finally in the army!
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RETURN OF THE BLOB
April 14, 2009
Special Dog...or can I just call you dog? I am daily transfixed by this blog because of the constant seepage of stupidity, trivial boredom and jokes that are as funny as George Bush in the Oval Office. So you fancy yourself an expert in foreign policy, economics, religion and motivational techniques? In actuality, Charles Manson was probably a better influence on his group. You could have been one of Il Duce's Red Shirts from what I have seen of your regurgitating all of Bush's lies. He couldn't get bin Laden so he went after the guy who tried to hurt his Poppy. He's just an American Sheik and will be wearing much bigger pin-stripes when the International Court gets hold of him. As for Economics, you probably can't even balance your own checkbook! Religion? Apparently you have condemned everyone that does not agree with you to hell. God is a loving God, my friend, and he knows my heart and I am fully confident that he will accept me into his kingdom, should he really exist. And as for the advice that you seem to relish in giving,I can make a good case for guns not being the number on thing that needs banned. Trust me, you are no psychologist. Had you lived a century earlier, Freud would have written of the idiot, the ego and the superego. Dale from Elmira.
Dale, please excuse me for delaying in this response. I was quite taken aback by some of your comments. As for bad jokes, you are probably alluding to my question, "How do you tell a female fish from a male fish? You throw it in the bottom of the boat and if it flops this way and that way trying to get out, it is probably a male. If it looks up at you and says...Excuse me, could you give me directions on how to get of this boat... it is probably a female." Unfortunately, I have to admit, this was not a joke. I had heard this and just assumed that it was true. I got to thinking later and realized....fish can't talk. I don't mean to be picky but Mussolini had his Black Shirts, Hitler had his Brown Shirts, Al Gore has his Green Shirts and I believe that it is Hillary that is planning on Red Shirts. I have no idea how you know that I can't balance my own checkbook. I assume that it was just a lucky guess. I'll have you know that I studied psychology under Dr. Robert Hartley for eight seasons...er....years. I hope all is well in Elmira. By the way, I have an uncle who lives in Elmira. He's about 80 years old and bald. I don't suppose you know him? Actually, his name is also Dale. Hey...you're not 80 years old and bald are you? And if you are, you have eleven nephews and if asked, I'll never admit to being Special Dog!
And this from August 13, 2011
Dogface....you are a conceited blowhard, a pipsqueak fabricator of lies, a bourgeoisie barnacle on the (deleted) of the Koch brothers, a textbook example of a fool, a dimwitted-moronic-imbecilic monkey who happens to type. Your brain is half the size of the iPhone you write about. You are probably a pig at the dinner table. The monitor on your computer is probably pitted from the noxious fumes coming from your boated head. The monitors of those who happen, by pure chance, to come across your drivel are probably covered with vomit. You can't spell, you can't write, you can't even think. You give the alphabet a bad name. Spellcheck can't even figure out your hoof-pecked random assortment of letters vaguely resembling English words. I have read every blog you have fouled cyberspace with and now have nightmares of a blob coming out of Pittsburgh that sucks the air out of all footballs. Sincerely, Harry
Dear Harry, I am not a pipsqueak!! As for the nightmares...that's weird...can't help you there.
And these from this past March,
Dear Sir, I wanted to point out some errors in your thinking and logic with precision and clarity. Barack Obama is on his way to becoming the greatest President in United States history. His grasp of foreign policy has the wisdom of Solomon. Who else is able to see the circumlocution of the George Kennan doctrine and eviscerate military buildups without pandering to those who never really had the courage to build seminal relationships void of jealousy and rage. Our economy has moved along a line of tepid improvement while strengthening its fundamental structure without endangering the primary "amino acids" if you will, of sound, strong improvement? President Obama has instilled hope in those who, up until now, have only been able to call on inner motivations to face the massive forces aligned against them, all with due diligence to what every American has called its heritage, that being, total awareness of every liability that lurks within the assets of this post-Utopian age. Science has profited from the reality inherent in the broad scope of multi-faceted organizations that are constantly in flux and progressing at an incredible rate! The much maligned educational system has not only survived but demonstrated ingenuity in spite of numerous attempts to confound every non-consequential perfidy this administration has identified and pursued with more than due diligence. Generally, finding answers to every problem is a Herculean task but no Sisyphean quest for only by addressing every profligate Republican led maneuver can we actually turn these assaults into blessings for every American! It's been truly remarkable. Barack Obama has more than demonstrated brilliance, he has made the word synonymous with "Obama Administration." I'm sorry to bust your bubble but logic always always wins the day and clarity is the weapon of choice for every true and blue American! Julius Chernenko, Professor of Inner-Gender Studies and Holographic Historicity at the City College of Bangor, Maine P.S. Although on a slightly different topic you might want to read my paper titled The Sex Habits of the Pontchartrainian Turtle and its correlation to the "God Myth.".
Dear Professor Chernenko, I had trouble following the meaning of your comments for I only have a college education. I did though, happen across your paper while sitting in the doctor's office waiting for a butt enhancement procedure. It sounded like a Communist plot!
and this also...
Man u r nuts. What's all this comunism crap. I cant understan a word u say. u must have a innerear problem. get with it dude. Mark from L.A. the real spechal dog!
Dear...Mark...er...Spechal Dog...thanks for the input.
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Sunday, June 3, 2012
It was September 19th, 1969. My aunt had driven me to the Federal Building in Pittsburgh and my mother was also in the car. I said my good-byes as I got out in front of the main entrance. The light was just breaking from the east and I followed the directions given to me and got on the elevator to go up to the floor where enlistments were taking place. There might have been thirty or forty of us there that day. We were given meal tickets for lunch and spent the morning filling out paperwork. At lunch I strolled around the floor that the cafeteria was on for I was not, as of yet, in this man's army. After lunch we took our physicals, the standard turn your head and cough variety, in a line of men standing around in their briefs. We filled out some additional paperwork including signing the enlistment papers and finally were ushered into a small room with the Stars and Stripes proudly hanging at the front. We were told to raise our right hands and repeat the oath of enlistment. Finally in the army? Most of the guys were directed to buses with a final destination of Fort Jackson, South Carolina but Harry W. and I were on another bus headed to Pittsburgh International Airport to catch a flight to Philly. Walking around the airport, I still did not feel like I was in the Army. Harry W. was a wonderful guy who resembled Drew Carey only not as good looking, was only a little taller than Danny DeVito and had a bad case of acne. The stewardesses were very pretty and Harry W. was really putting on the moves. The ladies were literally falling all over him...and ignoring me. Now what was wrong with this picture? I figured that personality must have something to do with this girl thing and that maybe I should try to get one...never did though. We arrived in Philly and followed directions once again to a limousine that would take us to Fort Dix, New Jersey... one long haired hippy type and a short, balding one who had a way with the girls. It was about midnight when we finally arrived at the wooden framed hut. Once again we were filling out paperwork with others who were arriving one by one. We were given mattresses and a couple of sheets and told to find a bunk....the end of a very long day. Finally in the Army? Morning came with loud shouts to hustle across the street for some breakfast and then report back. We were not marched because we had not yet been told which was our left foot and which our right. Next came a longer wooden building where we were issued the standard gear of fatigues, boots, socks, green underwear, a hat and duffel bag to put them all in. One better have the sizes ready for there were no questions taken and no words accepted except small, medium or large. I looked at myself in the mirror. Finally in the army? Nah. After lunch it was another cattle drive over to the barber's hut which had six long pew like benches and a long line of guys sliding down one place at a time as the one in front had his head shaved. To this day I wonder if these were actual barbers or if this was a second job after running a backhoe at night for it took less than a minute to run those clippers up and down the scalp. I put my hat back on and now it came down over my eyebrows. There I was, outfitted and bald. Finally in the army? We were introduced, if I can use that phrase, to a Drill Sergeant who was cordial and related stories from Vietnam for it seemed that all of them had just returned. This wasn't so bad after all. We spent two days being led around to various stations including the dentist where we established records to be kept until the day we would leave the army. Then came a surprise. We were bused over to another section of Fort Dix where the buildings were all brick. Off the bus we were herded and told to go into the barracks, find a cot to dump our duffel bags on and come right back out. We did this and casually formed some semblance of a line. Then Drill Sergeant Carter appeared out of no where. We were told exactly what we looked like and as I remember it had something to do with goats, Gilligan and Bullwinkle J. Moose. This guys jaw definitely jutted out farther than his nose. He was built solid and stood firm as a rock and we were later told that he still had plenty of metal in his back from Vietnam. Back to the barracks and the lights were out at nine. The next thing that I knew I was flying off the bunk into the air simultaneously as the lights came on. I was the unlucky one to pick the first bunk from the door. It was 5 AM and we had five minutes to be outside in formation. I still didn't know what a formation was. Left Face was the command and I was face to face with another guy. Panic had set in for one of us turned the wrong way. Fortunately the other guy was wrong and he was questioned as to what grade in elementary he ended his schooling in. We then started out in the darkness on my first actual march which soon became a quick time as we were then repeating, rather yelling, after Drill Sergeant Carter, that we wanted to be airborne rangers...go to Vietnam and kill those Viet Cong. Finally in the army? Reaching the mess hall we entered in a rather strange way. One line was released at a time and was to charge the mess hall yelling like banshees. I guessed there was a reason for that. One week followed another of pushing, shoving, marching, running, push-ups, climbing, shouting, singing and lunging with a bayonet. Six weeks into basic we were finally allowed to go to the PX. Most guys bought stationary, candy, cigarettes and paperback books. I bought Ian Fleming's Goldfinger. Finally came our week on the rifle range. I had never held a rifle in my life. When a recruit had a rifle in his hands he also had a Drill Sergeant two inches from his ear. They must think that we might turn the wrong way. No one complained. I was firing at targets I could not see and had no idea if I was hitting them but I must have because I did not have to go back. If someone had to urinate...silly comment...there was a large vat buried in the ground. No problem here...until it got filled up and had to be emptied. A small crane was brought in and four unlucky guys had to stand around it, shoveling and shaking it back and forth to get it free all the while standing in four to six inched of urine. Guess who one of those unlucky guys was? Finally in the army? We were bonding heavily as the fourth platoon and even more so to Drill Sergeant Carter. We were on a mission to win that PT award and we didn't particularly have any feelings of camaraderie towards the other three platoons, one of which occupied the other half of the floor we were on and one night we wound up in a big scrum, fighting over who got the mops and buckets first. Graduation came. It had been eight long, hard weeks. We, the fourth platoon, were psyched as we waited for the announcement of the PT award for we desperately wanted Drill Sergeant Carter to be acknowledged for it. And he was! Our squad leader was to march us back to the barracks and we had a fine idea to form the number four and march in it. The breaks on a car squealed and a Colonel got out who did not appreciate the meaning. He was up one side of that squad leader and down the other with words that one might expect out of the mouth of Hillary Clinton but not an officer in the United States Army. We were given the last night off and headed over to the EM Club for our first beers in two months. Walking, if you can call it that, back to the barracks, one of us fell out of a tree in front of us. Now how one could be with us one moment and then fall out of a tree in front of us the next, I never did find out. Finally in the army? When morning came we all waited around a slew of buses to take us to our advanced training with most going in different directions. We were given our platoon picture that morning and passed them around to be signed. I still have this picture with about forty signatures on the back. I alone got on the bus that was to take me to Fort Devins, Massachusetts and waved to the guys that I would never see again the rest of my life. Finally in the army!
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RETURN OF THE BLOB
I don't have a comment link as a true blog would have and addressed the issue a few times by trying to fill this void with.. examples.. of what I.. might.. receive if I did offer that option. Here are five, the last of which I just.. received.. last night:
April 14, 2009
Special Dog...or can I just call you dog? I am daily transfixed by this blog because of the constant seepage of stupidity, trivial boredom and jokes that are as funny as George Bush in the Oval Office. So you fancy yourself an expert in foreign policy, economics, religion and motivational techniques? In actuality, Charles Manson was probably a better influence on his group. You could have been one of Il Duce's Red Shirts from what I have seen of your regurgitating all of Bush's lies. He couldn't get bin Laden so he went after the guy who tried to hurt his Poppy. He's just an American Sheik and will be wearing much bigger pin-stripes when the International Court gets hold of him. As for Economics, you probably can't even balance your own checkbook! Religion? Apparently you have condemned everyone that does not agree with you to hell. God is a loving God, my friend, and he knows my heart and I am fully confident that he will accept me into his kingdom, should he really exist. And as for the advice that you seem to relish in giving,I can make a good case for guns not being the number on thing that needs banned. Trust me, you are no psychologist. Had you lived a century earlier, Freud would have written of the idiot, the ego and the superego. Dale from Elmira.
Dale, please excuse me for delaying in this response. I was quite taken aback by some of your comments. As for bad jokes, you are probably alluding to my question, "How do you tell a female fish from a male fish? You throw it in the bottom of the boat and if it flops this way and that way trying to get out, it is probably a male. If it looks up at you and says...Excuse me, could you give me directions on how to get of this boat... it is probably a female." Unfortunately, I have to admit, this was not a joke. I had heard this and just assumed that it was true. I got to thinking later and realized....fish can't talk. I don't mean to be picky but Mussolini had his Black Shirts, Hitler had his Brown Shirts, Al Gore has his Green Shirts and I believe that it is Hillary that is planning on Red Shirts. I have no idea how you know that I can't balance my own checkbook. I assume that it was just a lucky guess. I'll have you know that I studied psychology under Dr. Robert Hartley for eight seasons...er....years. I hope all is well in Elmira. By the way, I have an uncle who lives in Elmira. He's about 80 years old and bald. I don't suppose you know him? Actually, his name is also Dale. Hey...you're not 80 years old and bald are you? And if you are, you have eleven nephews and if asked, I'll never admit to being Special Dog!
And this from August 13, 2011
Dogface....you are a conceited blowhard, a pipsqueak fabricator of lies, a bourgeoisie barnacle on the (deleted) of the Koch brothers, a textbook example of a fool, a dimwitted-moronic-imbecilic monkey who happens to type. Your brain is half the size of the iPhone you write about. You are probably a pig at the dinner table. The monitor on your computer is probably pitted from the noxious fumes coming from your boated head. The monitors of those who happen, by pure chance, to come across your drivel are probably covered with vomit. You can't spell, you can't write, you can't even think. You give the alphabet a bad name. Spellcheck can't even figure out your hoof-pecked random assortment of letters vaguely resembling English words. I have read every blog you have fouled cyberspace with and now have nightmares of a blob coming out of Pittsburgh that sucks the air out of all footballs. Sincerely, Harry
Dear Harry, I am not a pipsqueak!! As for the nightmares...that's weird...can't help you there.
And these from this past March,
Dear Sir, I wanted to point out some errors in your thinking and logic with precision and clarity. Barack Obama is on his way to becoming the greatest President in United States history. His grasp of foreign policy has the wisdom of Solomon. Who else is able to see the circumlocution of the George Kennan doctrine and eviscerate military buildups without pandering to those who never really had the courage to build seminal relationships void of jealousy and rage. Our economy has moved along a line of tepid improvement while strengthening its fundamental structure without endangering the primary "amino acids" if you will, of sound, strong improvement? President Obama has instilled hope in those who, up until now, have only been able to call on inner motivations to face the massive forces aligned against them, all with due diligence to what every American has called its heritage, that being, total awareness of every liability that lurks within the assets of this post-Utopian age. Science has profited from the reality inherent in the broad scope of multi-faceted organizations that are constantly in flux and progressing at an incredible rate! The much maligned educational system has not only survived but demonstrated ingenuity in spite of numerous attempts to confound every non-consequential perfidy this administration has identified and pursued with more than due diligence. Generally, finding answers to every problem is a Herculean task but no Sisyphean quest for only by addressing every profligate Republican led maneuver can we actually turn these assaults into blessings for every American! It's been truly remarkable. Barack Obama has more than demonstrated brilliance, he has made the word synonymous with "Obama Administration." I'm sorry to bust your bubble but logic always always wins the day and clarity is the weapon of choice for every true and blue American! Julius Chernenko, Professor of Inner-Gender Studies and Holographic Historicity at the City College of Bangor, Maine P.S. Although on a slightly different topic you might want to read my paper titled The Sex Habits of the Pontchartrainian Turtle and its correlation to the "God Myth.".
Dear Professor Chernenko, I had trouble following the meaning of your comments for I only have a college education. I did though, happen across your paper while sitting in the doctor's office waiting for a butt enhancement procedure. It sounded like a Communist plot!
and this also...
Man u r nuts. What's all this comunism crap. I cant understan a word u say. u must have a innerear problem. get with it dude. Mark from L.A. the real spechal dog!
Dear...Mark...er...Spechal Dog...thanks for the input.
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Sunday, June 3, 2012
Did I Mention that I Was An Idiot?
Last Saturday, on the spur of the moment, I went to the high school track and ran for the first time in a few years. My 62 year old knees are still hurting but the bathroom scale went down seven pounds in one day! It was 92 degrees and I was wearing my ever-present mock turtleneck under my tee shirt. I had no water available to me at all and had just finished a kraut and cheese hot dog as I pulled into the parking lot. Let's see, are there any other excuses I can use. Oh yeah, I'm an idiot. It was a good time just the same. This is the same track that I have run on for the last thirty years. I won't mention how far I ran but I'll give this clue; you can count the number of miles with the fingers on one hand and have enough fingers left to give the Boy Scout salute. I used to love running the track on the hottest days, so hot that steam was rising from the rubber. As I ran last Saturday I had one particular blessing in that as I looked off into the hills I meditated on the glories of Christ and the blessings he had given. The blessing came in remembrance, for that is what used to sustain me in my long runs many years ago. Well I had another enjoyable day this Saturday. I bought my large McDonald's coffee and started to drive. I'm one of the few people who actually likes getting lost. I prefer to consult the position of the sun over my GPS and just enjoy the new sights. Did I mention that I was an idiot? But the following was the real blessing of the day: I stopped in a local restaurant of the small town I was passing through. There was only one other customer there. A ten year old boy, I later found out was the son of the owner, came over to me and started up a conversation. He pulled out a simple diagram he was working on. It had the picture of a battery, wires connecting it to a relay and wires going on to an alarm. He was designing a "detector." Possibly, he added, it could be used on the front door of the restaurant? I asked him if he was going to go to college when he was older. His response was "No," that he wanted to be an electrical engineer...another Edison in the making maybe? The other gentleman brought up robots and the boy proceeded to describe the difference between gemenoids and mechanoids! I hope I have those terms right. And of course the maverick, or the renegade robot. This conversation made my day.
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RHINOS, HYENAS AND JACKASSES....OH MY!
The lampshade rotated slowly in the still and quiet room. Emanating from the top were two beams of light casting a glow on the planets on the ceiling. As the shade further turned, Buzz Lightyear appeared on the wall and slowly circled the room, wobbling over a Pittsburgh Penguins pennant, a Sydney Crosby Jersey, shower curtains revealed through the open bathroom door, two windows and an autographed framed photograph of President Ronald Reagan; not a standard decoration in the bedroom of a nine year old boy, but still appropriate in a world where most entertainments for children involve violence or some shaman witchcraft a la Harry Potter. The door creaked as it inched open. Dad would never oil that door for at night he wanted to know every time that it opened. The invading light made it appear as if Buzz was passing from out of the earth's shadow.
"Anyone awake?" He whispered hoping not to hear a response.
"Just me dad. I can't sleep."
Raising his voice to normal..."How about a fairy tale?"
"Yea!" came the reply.
Dad came in and sat on the lower bunk, the top reserved for a brother who had not shown up yet.
"How about Hanzel and Gretyl?"
"Nah."
"The Three Bears?"
"Oh sure, bears that talk! Come on dad!"
"But that's what fairy tales are supposed to be son. They free your imagination to think of strange things....like Little Red Riding Hood....a wolf in sheep's clothing...come on....huh?"
"You said that that women named Hillary is a wolf in sheep clothing."
"Well, that's true but that's what called a metaphor."
"A What?"
"Tell you later. I know. I have a story about scary Rhinos. Only they are scary for different reasons."
"Wow. A rhino could scare anyone!"
"These are different types of rhinos. Some of them are very small. Susie the rhino is about mom's size and Olympia the rhino carries a purse. Some are strong with very big muscles like Arnold the rhino, but as soon as Mrs. Arnold comes out, Arnold the rhino sneaks back into the bushes."
"So why are these rhinos scary?"
"Well, they are scary because they are pretending to be elephants. They're very dangerous to little children and babies not born yet because they are always stomping around. They like to live in big castles but when wolves come around they start to take down the castle walls."
"Why do they do that dad? Don't they know that the wolves will come in and eat them?"
"Well, part of the problem is that they do not have very good eyesight. They look at the wolves and think that they are cute little puppy dogs!"
"Wow!"
"And they don't hear very well either. You can warn them that there are bees buzzing all around and even yell 'Look out! The bees are going to sting you!' but they just keep on stomping on baby carriages and school books...so anyway, one day little bitty tea cups hopped up to them.."
"Oh come on dad, tea cups that hop?"
"Use your imagination son. The tea cups hopped up to them and told the rhinos to stop chewing on the animals constitution."
"They were chewing on the animal's constitution?"
"That's right son, chewing on it and spitting it out for there were two much trans fats in the Constitution and not enough fluoride and Prozac."
"What?"
"Never mind, I got carried away; but they chewed and chewed and said that they were going to make their own laws over the animal kingdom. All the other animals were scared because they knew that the rhinos would get big and fat and eat everything in sight, including all the other animal's food. That's why this is such a scary story."
"Wow! What happens then?"
"Well, one day the lion, the king of the jungle, came back and he was not very happy. He told the rhinos that they were not elephants, they were rhinos, and they were more like jackasses."
"What did he do then?"
"He roared at the rhino castle and it fell down, and he roared at Lisa the rhino and she cried, and he roared in Spanish at the rhino with the white hair!"
"Wow! How did he roar in Spanish?"
"He rolled his R's...anyway he put the tea cups in charge of the constitution, to protect it."
"And what did the elephants...I mean the rhinos...I mean the jackasses do?"
"Well, they cried for a while but then they said 'OK, so we're not elephants...we are really hyenas!' and they laughed this crazy laugh. And then they said that they were going to huff and puff and blow the tea cups away but they didn't have any lips to blow with......then they became lobbyists."
Yawn! "That's a good story dad. I think that I can go to sleep now."
"That's good son."
"Are you going to bed now dad?"
"Soon son... but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep...I'll explain that tomorrow."
He kissed his son on the forehead, put Buzz back into orbit and tiptoed out the door...creeek!
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RHINOS, HYENAS AND JACKASSES....OH MY!
The lampshade rotated slowly in the still and quiet room. Emanating from the top were two beams of light casting a glow on the planets on the ceiling. As the shade further turned, Buzz Lightyear appeared on the wall and slowly circled the room, wobbling over a Pittsburgh Penguins pennant, a Sydney Crosby Jersey, shower curtains revealed through the open bathroom door, two windows and an autographed framed photograph of President Ronald Reagan; not a standard decoration in the bedroom of a nine year old boy, but still appropriate in a world where most entertainments for children involve violence or some shaman witchcraft a la Harry Potter. The door creaked as it inched open. Dad would never oil that door for at night he wanted to know every time that it opened. The invading light made it appear as if Buzz was passing from out of the earth's shadow.
"Anyone awake?" He whispered hoping not to hear a response.
"Just me dad. I can't sleep."
Raising his voice to normal..."How about a fairy tale?"
"Yea!" came the reply.
Dad came in and sat on the lower bunk, the top reserved for a brother who had not shown up yet.
"How about Hanzel and Gretyl?"
"Nah."
"The Three Bears?"
"Oh sure, bears that talk! Come on dad!"
"But that's what fairy tales are supposed to be son. They free your imagination to think of strange things....like Little Red Riding Hood....a wolf in sheep's clothing...come on....huh?"
"You said that that women named Hillary is a wolf in sheep clothing."
"Well, that's true but that's what called a metaphor."
"A What?"
"Tell you later. I know. I have a story about scary Rhinos. Only they are scary for different reasons."
"Wow. A rhino could scare anyone!"
"These are different types of rhinos. Some of them are very small. Susie the rhino is about mom's size and Olympia the rhino carries a purse. Some are strong with very big muscles like Arnold the rhino, but as soon as Mrs. Arnold comes out, Arnold the rhino sneaks back into the bushes."
"So why are these rhinos scary?"
"Well, they are scary because they are pretending to be elephants. They're very dangerous to little children and babies not born yet because they are always stomping around. They like to live in big castles but when wolves come around they start to take down the castle walls."
"Why do they do that dad? Don't they know that the wolves will come in and eat them?"
"Well, part of the problem is that they do not have very good eyesight. They look at the wolves and think that they are cute little puppy dogs!"
"Wow!"
"And they don't hear very well either. You can warn them that there are bees buzzing all around and even yell 'Look out! The bees are going to sting you!' but they just keep on stomping on baby carriages and school books...so anyway, one day little bitty tea cups hopped up to them.."
"Oh come on dad, tea cups that hop?"
"Use your imagination son. The tea cups hopped up to them and told the rhinos to stop chewing on the animals constitution."
"They were chewing on the animal's constitution?"
"That's right son, chewing on it and spitting it out for there were two much trans fats in the Constitution and not enough fluoride and Prozac."
"What?"
"Never mind, I got carried away; but they chewed and chewed and said that they were going to make their own laws over the animal kingdom. All the other animals were scared because they knew that the rhinos would get big and fat and eat everything in sight, including all the other animal's food. That's why this is such a scary story."
"Wow! What happens then?"
"Well, one day the lion, the king of the jungle, came back and he was not very happy. He told the rhinos that they were not elephants, they were rhinos, and they were more like jackasses."
"What did he do then?"
"He roared at the rhino castle and it fell down, and he roared at Lisa the rhino and she cried, and he roared in Spanish at the rhino with the white hair!"
"Wow! How did he roar in Spanish?"
"He rolled his R's...anyway he put the tea cups in charge of the constitution, to protect it."
"And what did the elephants...I mean the rhinos...I mean the jackasses do?"
"Well, they cried for a while but then they said 'OK, so we're not elephants...we are really hyenas!' and they laughed this crazy laugh. And then they said that they were going to huff and puff and blow the tea cups away but they didn't have any lips to blow with......then they became lobbyists."
Yawn! "That's a good story dad. I think that I can go to sleep now."
"That's good son."
"Are you going to bed now dad?"
"Soon son... but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep...I'll explain that tomorrow."
He kissed his son on the forehead, put Buzz back into orbit and tiptoed out the door...creeek!
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Sunday, November 13, 2011
Debate Coverage...Sort Of
Well, I tuned in to the debate tonight, the first time I have done so, and...well the following might not be exactly verbatim but it's kind of how I saw it:
Pelley: Governor Perry. What would you do if a nuclear weapon came up missing in Pakistan?
Perry: Let me just say that we are winning in Afghanistan.
Pelley: That was the previous question to Governor Romney.
Perry: Oh...I wouldn't give a penny to Red China.
Pelley: That was two questions ago. Time is up. Thank you Governor.
Garrett: Congressman Paul. How would you deal with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad?
Paul: Have we ever tried sending him flowers?
Santorum: Excuse me. Excuse me! I just want to say that I totally disagree with Congressman Paul.
Garrett: Governor Huntsman: Would it ever be the right thing to do to bomb Iran?
Huntsman: You know, I sat next to a sailor on the flight in and we have the finest navy in the world.
Garrett: Oookaaay. And what about Iran?
Huntsman: What about it?
Garrett: Would it ever be the right thing to do to bomb Iran?
Huntsman: Let me just say that I used to live in a shack in Iran... I know Iran.
Garrett: And...?
Huntsman: And what?
Pelley: Speaker Gingrich. Would you ever use the fiendish, horrid, un-American torture of waterboarding?
Gingrich: Waterboarding isn't torture.
Pelley: Yes it is! Yes it is! Yes it is!!!
Garrett: Governor Romney. You're really a handsome man.
Romney: Thank you and I sincerely hope that Putin doesn't think that I'm just another pretty face.
Pelley: Mr. Cain. What hands-on experience do you have with nuclear weaponry?
Cain: Hands-on.....as the CEO of Godfather's Pizza? None.
Pelley: Thank-you sir.
Pelley: Congresswoman Bachmann: I notice that you have your hair pinned back tonight. Have you ever
used a washer board while doing your laundry?
Bachmann: Excuse me!
Pelley: Thank you Congresswoman.
Bachmann: Excuse me again. I have sixty seconds to talk!
Pelley: That was sixty seconds.
Bachmann: Two words? Sixty seconds?
Pelley: We're playing by the rules tonight shorty!
Garrett: Speaker Gingrich. Some people say that you will say anything conservatives want to hear?
Gingrich: I'd bomb Iran, stop abortion, nominate Joe the Plumber for the Supreme Court and add Ronald
Reagan's name to the Pledge of Allegiance.
Garrett: Thank-you sir.
Santorum: Hey, Hey, Hey. What about me over here?
Pelley: Senator Santorum. How would you handle the situation in Syria?
Santorum: Well, I would..
Pelley: Thank you Senator. Times up. Governor Romney. Who is going to be your Vice President?
Cain: What kind of question is that?
Pelley: I'll rephrase it. Governor Romney. Is your Vice President on the stage tonight?
Romney: Let me just say that I'd be honored to have any of the 300 millions Americans as my V.P..
Huntsman: Hey! I'm down here in Siberia you know!
Perry: Did I ever tell you the one about the elephant who forgot where he put his trunk?
Pelley: That's all the time we have for tonight. Thank you gentleman, shorty...and the black guy to the left of
Presi...I mean Governor Romney.
The most difficult thing about watching this was in seeing South Carolina Senator Jim Demint watching from the audience.
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CARNIVAL ROYALE
Pelley: Governor Perry. What would you do if a nuclear weapon came up missing in Pakistan?
Perry: Let me just say that we are winning in Afghanistan.
Pelley: That was the previous question to Governor Romney.
Perry: Oh...I wouldn't give a penny to Red China.
Pelley: That was two questions ago. Time is up. Thank you Governor.
Garrett: Congressman Paul. How would you deal with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad?
Paul: Have we ever tried sending him flowers?
Santorum: Excuse me. Excuse me! I just want to say that I totally disagree with Congressman Paul.
Garrett: Governor Huntsman: Would it ever be the right thing to do to bomb Iran?
Huntsman: You know, I sat next to a sailor on the flight in and we have the finest navy in the world.
Garrett: Oookaaay. And what about Iran?
Huntsman: What about it?
Garrett: Would it ever be the right thing to do to bomb Iran?
Huntsman: Let me just say that I used to live in a shack in Iran... I know Iran.
Garrett: And...?
Huntsman: And what?
Pelley: Speaker Gingrich. Would you ever use the fiendish, horrid, un-American torture of waterboarding?
Gingrich: Waterboarding isn't torture.
Pelley: Yes it is! Yes it is! Yes it is!!!
Garrett: Governor Romney. You're really a handsome man.
Romney: Thank you and I sincerely hope that Putin doesn't think that I'm just another pretty face.
Pelley: Mr. Cain. What hands-on experience do you have with nuclear weaponry?
Cain: Hands-on.....as the CEO of Godfather's Pizza? None.
Pelley: Thank-you sir.
Pelley: Congresswoman Bachmann: I notice that you have your hair pinned back tonight. Have you ever
used a washer board while doing your laundry?
Bachmann: Excuse me!
Pelley: Thank you Congresswoman.
Bachmann: Excuse me again. I have sixty seconds to talk!
Pelley: That was sixty seconds.
Bachmann: Two words? Sixty seconds?
Pelley: We're playing by the rules tonight shorty!
Garrett: Speaker Gingrich. Some people say that you will say anything conservatives want to hear?
Gingrich: I'd bomb Iran, stop abortion, nominate Joe the Plumber for the Supreme Court and add Ronald
Reagan's name to the Pledge of Allegiance.
Garrett: Thank-you sir.
Santorum: Hey, Hey, Hey. What about me over here?
Pelley: Senator Santorum. How would you handle the situation in Syria?
Santorum: Well, I would..
Pelley: Thank you Senator. Times up. Governor Romney. Who is going to be your Vice President?
Cain: What kind of question is that?
Pelley: I'll rephrase it. Governor Romney. Is your Vice President on the stage tonight?
Romney: Let me just say that I'd be honored to have any of the 300 millions Americans as my V.P..
Huntsman: Hey! I'm down here in Siberia you know!
Perry: Did I ever tell you the one about the elephant who forgot where he put his trunk?
Pelley: That's all the time we have for tonight. Thank you gentleman, shorty...and the black guy to the left of
Presi...I mean Governor Romney.
The most difficult thing about watching this was in seeing South Carolina Senator Jim Demint watching from the audience.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CARNIVAL ROYALE
When you write a blog like this you need some time for relaxation...a little escape, but sometimes it can feel like incarceration.
Walking into the dark trailer from the bright sunlight temporarily blinded me. The man in the sport jacket over a turtle neck in 85 degree weather, who had his hand firmly clasped around my wrist, had no problem for the dark sunglasses helped him make the transition easily. The character of Oddjob flashed through my mind as he fit the description complete with a bowler hat on top of his head. I was a little bit disoriented and tried to focus on where I was. There were small television monitors across the one wall and a man sitting in front of them who motioned for me to sit down on a wooden chair directly below the glare of a floor lamp with a flexible goose neck. At least it was cool in the trailer so I took a couple of deep breaths before complaining, "Whats all this about?" He ignored my question and said "Tell me, are you a very good gambler...or just a very lucky one. Or is it maybe something else?" "I hardly call it gambling" I said,
and he responded "Well, I guess that I shouldn't either for you seem to win all the time, not much gambling in that." "So that's why you brought me here. I win a lot?" "That's right," he glanced over at my winnings which the apparent security detective laid on the table in front of me and continued. "Is it mathematical equations? Nah, it can't be that, or are you some sort of magician?" "Look" I said brusquely, getting increasingly angry, "My wife must be out there looking for me." I paused to catch my breath and continued, "I pulled five bucks out of my pocket and if I had lost that I would be home by now." "Five bucks? You expect me to believe that you raked in that haul from five bucks?" "Yeah! I'm not going to waste more than five bucks in a dump like this!" With this Oddjob pushed me back into my seat and his friend said "We take a lot of pride in our work. We run a first class operation. A lot of people have a good time, we make a small profit, that is until someone like you comes around." "I have to find my wife." I said. "She must be getting worried by now." My interrogator was heavy set and bald. He began scanning the monitors on the wall. "Look at these screens. do you see her anywhere?" I pulled up closer to the monitors. She wasn't by the merry-go-round, or the caterpillar....or the french fry stand. "There she is. Look...she's looking all around....by the cotton candy booth" Curly, for lack of a better name, looked at Oddjob and said "Go get her. Tell her that we just have few questions for her husband." He looked at me "OK now?" I settled down "Make it fast." He got up from the desk and walked over and picked up Snoopy. It was a good three feet tall, white and fluffy, with a perfect likeness of Charlie Brown's dog. I fidgeted, for the tips of his fingers had nicotine stains. "Please keep your hands of my Snoopy." He set it down and pointed to each one of the stuffed Snoopys "One, two, three, four, five...and six...six huggable, squeezable Snoopys...all won on a game that, mathematically speaking, shouldn't give a winner more than once every other day..." I was getting more irritated and stood up "Look...I tossed the ball and it rolled into the red cup..." He met me face to face "Six Snoopys on five bucks... three balls a buck, that's 16 balls." Oddjob, who had returned, interrupted, "15 balls boss." "Fifteen balls... do you think I was born yesterday?" I didn't back down and shouted myself, in spite of the aroma of sauerkraut...very bad sauerkraut, coming from his flaming nostrils. "Look, there's 576 cups on that board...thirty of them are yellow, 16 are blue and one, in the center, is red! I just happened to toss fifteen wiffle balls and six of them rolled into the red cup!" He backed away "And I suppose you think that a jury will believe that?" "A jury?" I gasped. "This is a travelling street fair...and I won six Snoopy dolls....are you crazy?" "Crazy? Each one of those Snoopy dolls are worth thirty bucks! You walk off with a hundred and fifty bucks of my merchandise and..." Oddjob interrupted "A hundred and eighty bucks boss" "I don't care, a hundred and fifty bucks, a hundred and eighty bucks. I want to know how you did it?" "I told you....I rolled the little white wiffle balls and..." He interrupted again and grabbed a cellphone from his shirt pocket...putting it right into my face "You want me to call homicide?" Oddjob looked at him "Homicide...boss?" "Homicide, Vice, Immigration...whatever. You come into my house and rattle off how may blue and yellow cups.... I don't even know those numbers! You cased this place and I want answers!" I grabbed the phone out of his hand "I'll call the police! You can't pull me in here and give me the fifth degree because I rolled six little white wiffle balls into a red cup!" "One red cup" he shouted "out of six hundred and fifty two cups." Oddjob corrected him "576 boss" "I don't care how many cups are out there. What did you do...guide that wiffle ball into the red cup with some kind of remote control or satellite?" He stopped abruptly and his eyes widened. "Do you have an iPhone? You do, you have an iPhone!" he demanded. "Its an app...isn't it? You guided those balls with an iPhone app!" "Yes I do have an iPhone. Oh Look! Here it is" I said as I took it off my belt. " Lets see.... nine...one...one..." He grabbed the phone out of my hand and began jabbing on the screen all over with his finger, hoping to stop the phone call. Oddjob took it and tapped once to end the call. Curly ran his fingers over his scalp as if expecting to find hair and paced around for a minute or two. "Look. OK. You got me on this one. Tell you what...I'll give you three hundred smackers just to tell me how you did it." "I told you already. I just rolled the little wiffle..." He had had enough of my explanation and pushed me aside as he opened the door of the trailer. The bright sunlight invaded our space and I covered my eyes but not before I could see that he had no hair at all...absolutely none, and a very reddish complexion. "You can leave now...mister. But I'm warning you. By dawn I'll have your picture spread to every carnival...five counties wide... each direction! You stay away from Roll The Ball!" I didn't say anything. I just grabbed my Snoopys one by one and walked out. My wife threw her arms around me and helped me by carrying three Snoopys. As we were walking out of the street carnival, I turned and walked back over to the Roll A Ball. There were half a dozen kids and their parents standing by the rail, waiting to buy balls. I hoped Curly, or should I call him Goldfinger, was watching on his monitors. I started giving away the Snoopys to the kids. They were excited beyond belief and they and their families walked away, holding their prize for the night. I looked up and saw a camera pointing at me from a pole. I saluted into it and my wife and I walked off hand in hand.
There is only a grain of truth in this story. I did go to our local street carnival and bought a peanut covered caramel apple and spent a little bit of time at the Roll A Ball. Watching the kids faces is the real joy, especially since it seems that it was not that long ago that our son was rolling the ball. Today he's a lawyer who could have been called if this scenario had taken place. I did count the colored cups and spent some time trying to figure out just how to land that wiffle ball in the center cup.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
UH...WHAT'S YOUR BLOG?
In amongst the serious themes that saturate today's issues there has to be a little bit of humor. But this isn't the day for it as I'm sure you will attest to here. Where would the best place be for a young man to meet a young woman and how would one start up a conversation? If I were to be somehow transported as a 20 year old to today, I might have an experience like this:
Setting: Starbucks Cafe. All the tables are empty save one where a young girl is sitting in front of her PC. Enter a young man (me) who sits down at the table next to her and opens up his laptop and cleans the screen with the top of his ball cap.
Me: Glancing over to the young girl. So, I see you're a blogger too?
Girl: Excuse me?
Me: Uh..a blogger. I see that you are a blogger also?
Girl: Oh! Yes. Looks back at her screen.
Me: What's a...what's your blog?
Girl: Oh. It's called Ezmeralda's Meanderings.
Me: That's...catchy. What's it about?
pause
Girl: Ah...meanderings.
Me: Oh yeah...little bits of anything?
Girl: Uh-huh. What's your blog?
Me: Mine? Ah, Special Dog's Conservative Bark.
Girl: Oh! Is it about dogs?
Me: Uh, no...well a little about blue dogs..but no, it's about politics and religion.
Girl: Eeauw
pause
Me: Eeauw?
Girl: Yeah, politics and religion don't really go together do they?
Me: Well, most people don't think they do but Calvin once said...
Girl: Oh Calvin. I love him..and that cute little tiger doll of his!
Me: Well..er...actually..ah, yeah Calvin is neat.
Girl: What did he say?
Me: Who?
Girl: Calvin. Remember the time he went into a box and 10 or 20 little Calvins came out. I think that would be cool. Can you imagine 10 or 20 little me's?
Me: Uh..yeah...sort of?
Girl: So what did he say?
Me: Who?
Girl: Calvin!!
Me: Oh...well..uh...he was building all these snowmen and they were all deformed, missing arms, legs,heads...and he asked Hobbes "Hobbes, does art imitate life or does life imitate art?" Hobbes answered "I don't know but you better get a life."
Girl: Haha, that's funny....did he really say that?
Me: No... I uh...just felt pressured into coming up with an answer.
Girl: What's your religion?
Me: I'm, a, a Christian.
Girl: That's nice...I a Wiccan.
Me: A Wi....Wi...Wiccan?
Girl: Yes, Wiccans don't have a lot to do with politics...except for maybe casting a spell.
Me: Well, actually Hillary does that a lot.
Girl: Who's Hillary?
Me: Well, that's a woman I seem to have a lot of problems with.
Girl: Is she your girlfriend?
Me: No, I don't have a girlfriend.
Girl: I do!
Me: Ooh! Uh, do you come here often?
Girl: No. Actually I'm just visiting here. I live near the Painted Desert in Arizona. Do you know they still grow peyote there?
Me: Pey..peyote. Well, I guess that I would have guessed..that.
Girl: Hey, it's been nice talking to you but my plane leaves in a little over an hour and I have to get going. (It's funny how many girls I met who had to catch a plane in an hour)
Me: Have a good trip!
Girl: Thanks, and remember to visit my blog. There's a place you can make little comments if you want.
Me: Well...I uh, actually...you know...politics and religion..I'm kinda boring and all.
Girl: Well, goodbye.
No, I would not want to go through this stuff again,but as for the question, I met my wife in a library. That's a good place. Other than that, I haven't the slightest idea. You young guys are on your own.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE BIG TENT THEORY
Last night I dreamed a dream, and in it four United States Senators met at the house of Senator Compromise in the Georgetown section of Washington D. C. to discuss how the Republican Party might return to the Big Tent Theory. They had been meeting every Thursday at 8 PM. Senator Anger was the first to arrive followed by Senators Slippery and All Talk.
All Talk: Well guys, we have some work to do if we are going to build this Big Tent.
Anger: It's going to be big alright but not big enough to hold those disgusting conservatives.
Compromise: Let's get down to business. Slippery, sorry to see you go.
Slippery: I was scalped!
All Talk: Now now Slippery that's not Big Tent talk.
Slippery: I don't care. I'm as much Cherokee as she is.
Anger: We can say what we want in this room but be careful out there around the media!
All Talk: First order of business, Compromise, what did you do this week to build our big tent?
Compromise: I got a La Raza tattoo.....(pulling up his shirt to expose his chest)....See!
All Talk: Awesome. We got to get a photo op on that. Anger, what about you?
Anger: I didn't punch out any conservatives this week.
All Talk: OK we've vented, now what really did you do?
Anger: I proposed putting a memorial to ..the Unknown God.... in Arlington Cemetery.
All Talk: Amen to that thought. Now that's God for everyone!
A screaming yell is heard from the hallway
Mother: Compromise!
Compromise: Yes Mother!
Mom: Senator Truth is on the phone for you!
Compromise: Tell him I'm not home!
Mom: He heard you say that!
Compromise: Tell him I got my toe stuck in the recliner and can't come to the phone!
Mom: I'm telling him you just don't want to talk to him!
Slippery: Can we build that Unknown God memorial in Massachusetts?
Anger: You lost Slippery. Get over it.
Compromise: What did you do this week All Talk?
All Talk: I said that we lost this election because of the Conservatives!
Compromise:What the hey All Talk? That's our mantra. That's the best you can do?
All Talk: Yeah...a mantra....it creates transformation...you gotta repeat and repeat a mantra!
Anger: He's right Compromise.
A knock at the door and Candi enters.
Candi: Hi boys!
Anger: Candi, why are you always coming over here?
Compromise: Hey, she's my girlfriend you know!
Anger: Well she's always criticizing me.
Candi: That's because you're always criticizing the president.
Anger: That's all show.
Candi: Well you're turning into a ham.
All Talk: Candi, can you get me a beer?
Candi: That's a chauvinist remark!
All Talk: I just want a beer. And you're standing.
Compromise: (yelling) Mother! Get a beer for All Talk!
Mother: Tell him to get his own beer!
Anger: Candi, do you have any ideas for building a big tent?
Candi: We've got to attract the women.
Slippery: I've always attracted women.
Anger: That's why you lost Slippery.
Compromise:You're right Candi. How about we all propose a new position..Secretary of Women!
No, even better... a Secretary of Females......that way we can include the animals.
Anger: Yeah. PETA will love it!
Slippery: Peter who?
All Talk: OK, we made a lot of progress in this meeting. Candi, be a dear and warm up my car?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SPRING FORWARD....FALL BACK
Spring Forward....Fall Back
I was just sitting here in my recliner, minding my own business, and my wife came up to me and said..."I want you to put something in your blog....no one will believe it.....I'm serious!"
Well, this was something new. I knew that she was aware that I had a blog for the time I spend on it is the reason that we see each other so infrequently around the house but she seldom mentions it. "OK. What do want me to put in the blog?" "I want you to tell people how you never change the time on your watches when the clocks change." So here is my side of the story. It started when I broke the crown off of a watch that I really like. I started using that watch during the half of a year that it was correct. Then it just kind of became a habit with all the watches. Then I starting forgetting which watches were Spring watches and which watches were Fall watches. But still it led to only minor problems..."Sorry I'm late....I put my Spring watch on my mistake." I think that she finally had it with me this morning. Actually it started last evening when I said "You better hurry up. Middle comes on in fifteen minutes." "Fifteen minutes!" "Oops, sorry...wrong watch." So...this morning I woke up on my own a few minutes before the alarm was to go off. I disarmed the alarm and fell back to sleep. The problem was really the power company's fault for we lost power yesterday and I set my alarm clock from a Spring watch and not a Fall watch. So, when I woke up I panicked, nudged her and said "Honey, I slept in...It's 5:30! Can you help me get ready?" She quickly jumped out of bed and then looked at her alarm clock..."Hey, it's only 4:30!" "Oops, sorry. I set the clock by the wrong watch." I have yet to put the correct time on all my watches but I did make a mental note to do it! It's a start anyway. I guess that this blog isn't too funny for I showed it to my wife...and she didn't laugh.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SEAMAN MURPHY.....this was in my short novel. I changed it a little bit to make it a short story.
Walking into the dark trailer from the bright sunlight temporarily blinded me. The man in the sport jacket over a turtle neck in 85 degree weather, who had his hand firmly clasped around my wrist, had no problem for the dark sunglasses helped him make the transition easily. The character of Oddjob flashed through my mind as he fit the description complete with a bowler hat on top of his head. I was a little bit disoriented and tried to focus on where I was. There were small television monitors across the one wall and a man sitting in front of them who motioned for me to sit down on a wooden chair directly below the glare of a floor lamp with a flexible goose neck. At least it was cool in the trailer so I took a couple of deep breaths before complaining, "Whats all this about?" He ignored my question and said "Tell me, are you a very good gambler...or just a very lucky one. Or is it maybe something else?" "I hardly call it gambling" I said,
and he responded "Well, I guess that I shouldn't either for you seem to win all the time, not much gambling in that." "So that's why you brought me here. I win a lot?" "That's right," he glanced over at my winnings which the apparent security detective laid on the table in front of me and continued. "Is it mathematical equations? Nah, it can't be that, or are you some sort of magician?" "Look" I said brusquely, getting increasingly angry, "My wife must be out there looking for me." I paused to catch my breath and continued, "I pulled five bucks out of my pocket and if I had lost that I would be home by now." "Five bucks? You expect me to believe that you raked in that haul from five bucks?" "Yeah! I'm not going to waste more than five bucks in a dump like this!" With this Oddjob pushed me back into my seat and his friend said "We take a lot of pride in our work. We run a first class operation. A lot of people have a good time, we make a small profit, that is until someone like you comes around." "I have to find my wife." I said. "She must be getting worried by now." My interrogator was heavy set and bald. He began scanning the monitors on the wall. "Look at these screens. do you see her anywhere?" I pulled up closer to the monitors. She wasn't by the merry-go-round, or the caterpillar....or the french fry stand. "There she is. Look...she's looking all around....by the cotton candy booth" Curly, for lack of a better name, looked at Oddjob and said "Go get her. Tell her that we just have few questions for her husband." He looked at me "OK now?" I settled down "Make it fast." He got up from the desk and walked over and picked up Snoopy. It was a good three feet tall, white and fluffy, with a perfect likeness of Charlie Brown's dog. I fidgeted, for the tips of his fingers had nicotine stains. "Please keep your hands of my Snoopy." He set it down and pointed to each one of the stuffed Snoopys "One, two, three, four, five...and six...six huggable, squeezable Snoopys...all won on a game that, mathematically speaking, shouldn't give a winner more than once every other day..." I was getting more irritated and stood up "Look...I tossed the ball and it rolled into the red cup..." He met me face to face "Six Snoopys on five bucks... three balls a buck, that's 16 balls." Oddjob, who had returned, interrupted, "15 balls boss." "Fifteen balls... do you think I was born yesterday?" I didn't back down and shouted myself, in spite of the aroma of sauerkraut...very bad sauerkraut, coming from his flaming nostrils. "Look, there's 576 cups on that board...thirty of them are yellow, 16 are blue and one, in the center, is red! I just happened to toss fifteen wiffle balls and six of them rolled into the red cup!" He backed away "And I suppose you think that a jury will believe that?" "A jury?" I gasped. "This is a travelling street fair...and I won six Snoopy dolls....are you crazy?" "Crazy? Each one of those Snoopy dolls are worth thirty bucks! You walk off with a hundred and fifty bucks of my merchandise and..." Oddjob interrupted "A hundred and eighty bucks boss" "I don't care, a hundred and fifty bucks, a hundred and eighty bucks. I want to know how you did it?" "I told you....I rolled the little white wiffle balls and..." He interrupted again and grabbed a cellphone from his shirt pocket...putting it right into my face "You want me to call homicide?" Oddjob looked at him "Homicide...boss?" "Homicide, Vice, Immigration...whatever. You come into my house and rattle off how may blue and yellow cups.... I don't even know those numbers! You cased this place and I want answers!" I grabbed the phone out of his hand "I'll call the police! You can't pull me in here and give me the fifth degree because I rolled six little white wiffle balls into a red cup!" "One red cup" he shouted "out of six hundred and fifty two cups." Oddjob corrected him "576 boss" "I don't care how many cups are out there. What did you do...guide that wiffle ball into the red cup with some kind of remote control or satellite?" He stopped abruptly and his eyes widened. "Do you have an iPhone? You do, you have an iPhone!" he demanded. "Its an app...isn't it? You guided those balls with an iPhone app!" "Yes I do have an iPhone. Oh Look! Here it is" I said as I took it off my belt. " Lets see.... nine...one...one..." He grabbed the phone out of my hand and began jabbing on the screen all over with his finger, hoping to stop the phone call. Oddjob took it and tapped once to end the call. Curly ran his fingers over his scalp as if expecting to find hair and paced around for a minute or two. "Look. OK. You got me on this one. Tell you what...I'll give you three hundred smackers just to tell me how you did it." "I told you already. I just rolled the little wiffle..." He had had enough of my explanation and pushed me aside as he opened the door of the trailer. The bright sunlight invaded our space and I covered my eyes but not before I could see that he had no hair at all...absolutely none, and a very reddish complexion. "You can leave now...mister. But I'm warning you. By dawn I'll have your picture spread to every carnival...five counties wide... each direction! You stay away from Roll The Ball!" I didn't say anything. I just grabbed my Snoopys one by one and walked out. My wife threw her arms around me and helped me by carrying three Snoopys. As we were walking out of the street carnival, I turned and walked back over to the Roll A Ball. There were half a dozen kids and their parents standing by the rail, waiting to buy balls. I hoped Curly, or should I call him Goldfinger, was watching on his monitors. I started giving away the Snoopys to the kids. They were excited beyond belief and they and their families walked away, holding their prize for the night. I looked up and saw a camera pointing at me from a pole. I saluted into it and my wife and I walked off hand in hand.There is only a grain of truth in this story. I did go to our local street carnival and bought a peanut covered caramel apple and spent a little bit of time at the Roll A Ball. Watching the kids faces is the real joy, especially since it seems that it was not that long ago that our son was rolling the ball. Today he's a lawyer who could have been called if this scenario had taken place. I did count the colored cups and spent some time trying to figure out just how to land that wiffle ball in the center cup.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
UH...WHAT'S YOUR BLOG?
In amongst the serious themes that saturate today's issues there has to be a little bit of humor. But this isn't the day for it as I'm sure you will attest to here. Where would the best place be for a young man to meet a young woman and how would one start up a conversation? If I were to be somehow transported as a 20 year old to today, I might have an experience like this:
Setting: Starbucks Cafe. All the tables are empty save one where a young girl is sitting in front of her PC. Enter a young man (me) who sits down at the table next to her and opens up his laptop and cleans the screen with the top of his ball cap.
Me: Glancing over to the young girl. So, I see you're a blogger too?
Girl: Excuse me?
Me: Uh..a blogger. I see that you are a blogger also?
Girl: Oh! Yes. Looks back at her screen.
Me: What's a...what's your blog?
Girl: Oh. It's called Ezmeralda's Meanderings.
Me: That's...catchy. What's it about?
pause
Girl: Ah...meanderings.
Me: Oh yeah...little bits of anything?
Girl: Uh-huh. What's your blog?
Me: Mine? Ah, Special Dog's Conservative Bark.
Girl: Oh! Is it about dogs?
Me: Uh, no...well a little about blue dogs..but no, it's about politics and religion.
Girl: Eeauw
pause
Me: Eeauw?
Girl: Yeah, politics and religion don't really go together do they?
Me: Well, most people don't think they do but Calvin once said...
Girl: Oh Calvin. I love him..and that cute little tiger doll of his!
Me: Well..er...actually..ah, yeah Calvin is neat.
Girl: What did he say?
Me: Who?
Girl: Calvin. Remember the time he went into a box and 10 or 20 little Calvins came out. I think that would be cool. Can you imagine 10 or 20 little me's?
Me: Uh..yeah...sort of?
Girl: So what did he say?
Me: Who?
Girl: Calvin!!
Me: Oh...well..uh...he was building all these snowmen and they were all deformed, missing arms, legs,heads...and he asked Hobbes "Hobbes, does art imitate life or does life imitate art?" Hobbes answered "I don't know but you better get a life."
Girl: Haha, that's funny....did he really say that?
Me: No... I uh...just felt pressured into coming up with an answer.
Girl: What's your religion?
Me: I'm, a, a Christian.
Girl: That's nice...I a Wiccan.
Me: A Wi....Wi...Wiccan?
Girl: Yes, Wiccans don't have a lot to do with politics...except for maybe casting a spell.
Me: Well, actually Hillary does that a lot.
Girl: Who's Hillary?
Me: Well, that's a woman I seem to have a lot of problems with.
Girl: Is she your girlfriend?
Me: No, I don't have a girlfriend.
Girl: I do!
Me: Ooh! Uh, do you come here often?
Girl: No. Actually I'm just visiting here. I live near the Painted Desert in Arizona. Do you know they still grow peyote there?
Me: Pey..peyote. Well, I guess that I would have guessed..that.
Girl: Hey, it's been nice talking to you but my plane leaves in a little over an hour and I have to get going. (It's funny how many girls I met who had to catch a plane in an hour)
Me: Have a good trip!
Girl: Thanks, and remember to visit my blog. There's a place you can make little comments if you want.
Me: Well...I uh, actually...you know...politics and religion..I'm kinda boring and all.
Girl: Well, goodbye.
No, I would not want to go through this stuff again,but as for the question, I met my wife in a library. That's a good place. Other than that, I haven't the slightest idea. You young guys are on your own.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE BIG TENT THEORY
Last night I dreamed a dream, and in it four United States Senators met at the house of Senator Compromise in the Georgetown section of Washington D. C. to discuss how the Republican Party might return to the Big Tent Theory. They had been meeting every Thursday at 8 PM. Senator Anger was the first to arrive followed by Senators Slippery and All Talk.
All Talk: Well guys, we have some work to do if we are going to build this Big Tent.
Anger: It's going to be big alright but not big enough to hold those disgusting conservatives.
Compromise: Let's get down to business. Slippery, sorry to see you go.
Slippery: I was scalped!
All Talk: Now now Slippery that's not Big Tent talk.
Slippery: I don't care. I'm as much Cherokee as she is.
Anger: We can say what we want in this room but be careful out there around the media!
All Talk: First order of business, Compromise, what did you do this week to build our big tent?
Compromise: I got a La Raza tattoo.....(pulling up his shirt to expose his chest)....See!
All Talk: Awesome. We got to get a photo op on that. Anger, what about you?
Anger: I didn't punch out any conservatives this week.
All Talk: OK we've vented, now what really did you do?
Anger: I proposed putting a memorial to ..the Unknown God.... in Arlington Cemetery.
All Talk: Amen to that thought. Now that's God for everyone!
A screaming yell is heard from the hallway
Mother: Compromise!
Compromise: Yes Mother!
Mom: Senator Truth is on the phone for you!
Compromise: Tell him I'm not home!
Mom: He heard you say that!
Compromise: Tell him I got my toe stuck in the recliner and can't come to the phone!
Mom: I'm telling him you just don't want to talk to him!
Slippery: Can we build that Unknown God memorial in Massachusetts?
Anger: You lost Slippery. Get over it.
Compromise: What did you do this week All Talk?
All Talk: I said that we lost this election because of the Conservatives!
Compromise:What the hey All Talk? That's our mantra. That's the best you can do?
All Talk: Yeah...a mantra....it creates transformation...you gotta repeat and repeat a mantra!
Anger: He's right Compromise.
A knock at the door and Candi enters.
Candi: Hi boys!
Anger: Candi, why are you always coming over here?
Compromise: Hey, she's my girlfriend you know!
Anger: Well she's always criticizing me.
Candi: That's because you're always criticizing the president.
Anger: That's all show.
Candi: Well you're turning into a ham.
All Talk: Candi, can you get me a beer?
Candi: That's a chauvinist remark!
All Talk: I just want a beer. And you're standing.
Compromise: (yelling) Mother! Get a beer for All Talk!
Mother: Tell him to get his own beer!
Anger: Candi, do you have any ideas for building a big tent?
Candi: We've got to attract the women.
Slippery: I've always attracted women.
Anger: That's why you lost Slippery.
Compromise:You're right Candi. How about we all propose a new position..Secretary of Women!
No, even better... a Secretary of Females......that way we can include the animals.
Anger: Yeah. PETA will love it!
Slippery: Peter who?
All Talk: OK, we made a lot of progress in this meeting. Candi, be a dear and warm up my car?
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SPRING FORWARD....FALL BACK
Spring Forward....Fall Back
I was just sitting here in my recliner, minding my own business, and my wife came up to me and said..."I want you to put something in your blog....no one will believe it.....I'm serious!"
Well, this was something new. I knew that she was aware that I had a blog for the time I spend on it is the reason that we see each other so infrequently around the house but she seldom mentions it. "OK. What do want me to put in the blog?" "I want you to tell people how you never change the time on your watches when the clocks change." So here is my side of the story. It started when I broke the crown off of a watch that I really like. I started using that watch during the half of a year that it was correct. Then it just kind of became a habit with all the watches. Then I starting forgetting which watches were Spring watches and which watches were Fall watches. But still it led to only minor problems..."Sorry I'm late....I put my Spring watch on my mistake." I think that she finally had it with me this morning. Actually it started last evening when I said "You better hurry up. Middle comes on in fifteen minutes." "Fifteen minutes!" "Oops, sorry...wrong watch." So...this morning I woke up on my own a few minutes before the alarm was to go off. I disarmed the alarm and fell back to sleep. The problem was really the power company's fault for we lost power yesterday and I set my alarm clock from a Spring watch and not a Fall watch. So, when I woke up I panicked, nudged her and said "Honey, I slept in...It's 5:30! Can you help me get ready?" She quickly jumped out of bed and then looked at her alarm clock..."Hey, it's only 4:30!" "Oops, sorry. I set the clock by the wrong watch." I have yet to put the correct time on all my watches but I did make a mental note to do it! It's a start anyway. I guess that this blog isn't too funny for I showed it to my wife...and she didn't laugh.
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SEAMAN MURPHY.....this was in my short novel. I changed it a little bit to make it a short story.
Who was it that once said "If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything."?
Our society... our culture... has been transformed...past tense. Even many Christians are now subject to influences that go well beyond the cognitive types of learning that the history of our people was built upon. The written word has largely been supplanted by the visual with disastrous results. The fringe element of our society is vulnerable under this onslaught of images. We have a 19" television and on those few occasions when I have to go to a Best Buy and I walk down the aisle of the large televisions I'm almost overcome by the images, the clarity and the force in front of me. My readers must surely think this naive. What planet do I live on to make a statement like this? My response is to ask them to consider the testimony of one who can still actually see the contrast of the written word and the visual. I spent a number of years captivated by questions on the afterlife and one book in particular was drawing me away from God, that being the Pultizer Prize winning The Denial Of Death by Ernest Becker but as I wrote of this once before, God was about to have mercy on the least worthy of it, and put into my hands Evidence That Demands A Verdict by Josh McDowell and I eventually saw truth in the words from the pen of Isaiah, Look unto Me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is no other." The following is a short story that I wrote many years ago.
Seaman Murphy
It was a warm night for Cape May, New Jersey, in late October, at 70 degrees as the sun went down. The temperature had risen to 77 at midday. John Cermak was sipping a coffee at Marie's diner when Sue Jamison rushed in looking left and right for John who was in a corner by the front window for it gave access to an outlet for his computer. Sue's frantic look eased somewhat at seeing John but John's calm turned a little frantic at seeing Sue rush in like that.
"John, Shane Murphy is in the hospital. They say he jumped into the water from the ferry in that insane quest of his to find that ghost ship. He's lost his mind John."
John Cermak was the librarian at the Cape May library. He got to know Shane Murphy over the summer as the 22 year old spent most of his days in the stacks looking up everything from ghosts, to shipwrecks, to local and Eastern seaboard maritime history. In 1937 a merchant ship named the Kenmore had been lost in a Nor'easter along with 27 seamen and its captain Manfred von Aire. The mystery that evolved around it was that it was spotted docked at Norfolk, Virginia the following year by two ex-crewmen who had joined the navy and were stationed there. It caused a bit of a stir around Cape May after that and had been investigated by the government and insurance companies. It turned out that a sister ship, the Kenmack, was the ship spotted by the men but their were no records from the Jones Shipbuilding Company that a sister ship had ever been built and maritime records showed no such ship as the Kenmack. Some say that the whole thing was a secret government deal concerning the war that was brewing around the world. Others said that it was a ghost ship for the men who spotted it also said that they walked the decks and there was not a single crewman on board. The myth and the mystery of the Kenmore grew over the years and sure enough there were other "sightings" and the ones in recent years always came from the decks of the ferry crossing over from Cape May to Lewes, Delaware. One book on ghost ships included a chapter on the Kenmore and the Mystery Channel did a piece on it for cable television.
Shane Murphy was headed no where in particular in life. He just graduated from community college but had not even looked for a job in his major. He worked pizza delivery and rented a flat just off of the bridge where you enter Cape May and spent his free time trying to find something in the mystery of a ghost ship that would give something of substance to his life. He brought up the subject time and time again with John Cermak but the librarian was a Christian and always seemed to finish his answers with some scripture verse that mentioned man as a mortal being that would stand before Jesus Christ after death and not float around in another dimension, but that didn't stop Shane Murphy from asking more and more reference questions.
The nurse pointed to Shane's room and simply shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. The doctors had concluded that Shane had not attempted suicide and was no danger to himself as long as he stayed off of that ferry. John Cermak walked into Shane's room. It was quiet with no TV on as in most of the other rooms. The ceiling light was on but the light at Shane's bed was off and he sat their motionless, just staring straight ahead.
"Mr. Cermak!"
"Hello Shane."
"I saw the Kenmore! Not only that I walked the decks and talked to Captain von Aire...or..I talked to someone anyway."
John didn't comment. He pulled a chair alongside Shane's bed and said "I'm listening."
Shane told the entire story without any interruption from his visitor. He had bought a round-trip ticket and boarded the 8 o'clock ferry. He usually pulled a blanket from the deck cabinets but this evening was particularly warm and he didn't need one. He almost fell asleep on the trip back but was gazing off into the inlet when suddenly the bow of a ship passed by the railing going in the opposite direction, this not more than a meter away. He stood up and tried to scream out to someone but could not. He had no idea what to do as he took a hesitant step towards the rail. The camera that he always lugged on board was in the deck chair. The ship's bridge passed slowly and the name Kenmore was written on the side. There was no lights on the ship and it was going to be gone in a few seconds. Shane had no idea what to do. He grabbed the rail as the stern of the Kenmore approached. He looked up to the bridge of the ferry, saw no one, looked back at the Kenmore about to pass...and leaped! He hit hard on the wooden deck and felt pain in his shoulder. It was quiet all of a sudden, and dark. The noise of the ferry was lessening as it slid away in the distance until it was absolutely quiet. The Kenmore moved quickly along without making any noise. It was as if it was a sailing vessel but it was a coal fed boiler ship. He stood up and took a few steps just to hear the sound of his boots on the deck calling out "Hello" but there was no answer. He saw a very dim light in the windows of the bridge that was ten feet over his head. There was a ladder up to the bridge and he reached out and touched it first, then grabbed it and climbed, rung by rung, up to the catwalk in front of the steering house. He could see nothing through the panes of glass darkened by, what he surmised to be, over 70 years of travelling through the mists of the ocean, but the dim light was still there. He walked to the port side and grabbed the handle to the door into the bridge. Turning it brought the sound of metal to metal and he gently pushed the door bringing a squeaking sound. He pushed the door without stepping inside. His heart was beating fast. There at the wheel, facing out over the bow, a man stood, with a captain's hat and long seaman's coat.
"Captain...Captain von Aire?"
"Captain von Aire?" He repeated louder.
"I've been waiting for you!" came the answer from the man without turning around.
"F..f..f..for me?"
""Yes, for you. I see the faces as she passes by and knew that someone would come to me."
"Captain. the world is waiting to meet you. You'll be the most famous person in the the world when they find out!"
"Find out what seaman Murphy?"
"That you are still alive...how did you know my name, I'm not one of your seaman?"
"I've always known your name. I would call out to you...Come to me seaman Murphy. Come and join me!"
"Where is the rest of the crew? Did they die in the storm?"
"They're all around you seaman Murphy. Can't you hear them?"
Shane heard what seemed to be faint laughter and his skin crawled. The captain had not yet turned to face Shane. He would move the wheel to the port a little and then move it to the starboard, always seeming to gaze ahead into the waters.
"Captain? Did you hear what I said? You have to stop this ship alongside the ferry to show the world that you are alive!"
At that the captain put the lock on the wheel and slowly turned as he said "Alive? Seaman Murphy, I have been dead for millennia..for eons. And now you are dead with me and will be my seaman for ever!" As he turned, his face was fully seen by Shane. It was ashen with no discerning marks to distinguish a nose or mouth...only red eyes that seemed to bore a hole into Shane's eyes. The captain gave a loud and hideous laugh "Pour me some rum seaman Murphy!" he bellowed. "You're going to be a fine seaman!" and again came the laugh.
Shane was too frightened to speak. He backed out of the bridge onto the catwalk. There was no sight of the ferry lights for it was probably back at Cape May by now. The captain shouted out again "Seaman Murphy...come to me." Shane backed away until he felt the ladder and stumbled as he descended. He ran to the rail and saw nothing except the waves that were growing higher and higher. It was cold now. It must be below freezing but it was warm when he was on the ferry. The captain's voice was now all around Shane "Seaman Murphy! You wanted to know about us! Now you do. Come to me! You're mine now!"
Shane ran to a lifeboat on the aft deck and cranked on the wheel that held it in place. Slowly, inches at a time, it lowered. Shane could hear laughter all around by now and thought that he felt a hand on his leg. He cranked and cranked until the lifeboat was bouncing on the waves. Grabbing onto the ropes, he slid down and once again hit hard on the wooden planks on the bottom of the lifeboat. He reached up and loosened the ropes until his skiff was set free. The Kenmore slowly passed and the laughter grew softer and softer until the only thing that could be heard was the crashing of the waves around the small boat. Shane had no idea what to do except wait, but the waves of a tempest that was not forecast, was brewing and endangering the lifeboat. He held onto the seats that were attached to the boat until one wave came completely over him sending him into the raging waters. He found himself crying out to the God that he so often ignored in his conversations with the man who he was now telling his story to. Many minutes had passed and Shane had trouble staying afloat in the cold waters. He was losing consciousness. As he lay as still as he could, holding his breath to stay afloat, he heard voices, yells and screams. A spotlight blinded his vision and he felt hands grabbing him before he passed out. He awoke in that room and told his story but no one was even interested. He thought of no one but John Cermak, until there he stood by the end of his bed.
Shane looked at John and said "What happened to me, Mr. Cermak?"
John spoke his first words since his "I'm listening."
"You were in the water for ten minutes Shane. They spotted you jumping into the water and stopped the ferry immediately. They rescued you in no time. You were never out of their sight."
"Then what did I experience? Was it a dream? Am I possessed?"
"I don't know and I won't speculate Shane. I will say this...you've heard me say it before..."it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgement." You did not die, but will you live?"
John Cermak got up to leave but Shane said "Mr. Cermak! Don't I have to say a prayer or something? Don't I have to become a Christian right now?"
John stopped at the door, turned and said a few last words before leaving, "Shane, the next few days are going to be difficult for you. They may keep you here while you talk to a psychiatrist. I'll come back every day. I listened and didn't say a world. I listened intently. When I come back, I want you to listen intently to the story that I am going to tell you." He pointed to the book he left at the foot of Shane's bed that appeared to be a Bible. "Some reading material for you. Good-bye for now."
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Our society... our culture... has been transformed...past tense. Even many Christians are now subject to influences that go well beyond the cognitive types of learning that the history of our people was built upon. The written word has largely been supplanted by the visual with disastrous results. The fringe element of our society is vulnerable under this onslaught of images. We have a 19" television and on those few occasions when I have to go to a Best Buy and I walk down the aisle of the large televisions I'm almost overcome by the images, the clarity and the force in front of me. My readers must surely think this naive. What planet do I live on to make a statement like this? My response is to ask them to consider the testimony of one who can still actually see the contrast of the written word and the visual. I spent a number of years captivated by questions on the afterlife and one book in particular was drawing me away from God, that being the Pultizer Prize winning The Denial Of Death by Ernest Becker but as I wrote of this once before, God was about to have mercy on the least worthy of it, and put into my hands Evidence That Demands A Verdict by Josh McDowell and I eventually saw truth in the words from the pen of Isaiah, Look unto Me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is no other." The following is a short story that I wrote many years ago.
Seaman Murphy
It was a warm night for Cape May, New Jersey, in late October, at 70 degrees as the sun went down. The temperature had risen to 77 at midday. John Cermak was sipping a coffee at Marie's diner when Sue Jamison rushed in looking left and right for John who was in a corner by the front window for it gave access to an outlet for his computer. Sue's frantic look eased somewhat at seeing John but John's calm turned a little frantic at seeing Sue rush in like that.
"John, Shane Murphy is in the hospital. They say he jumped into the water from the ferry in that insane quest of his to find that ghost ship. He's lost his mind John."
John Cermak was the librarian at the Cape May library. He got to know Shane Murphy over the summer as the 22 year old spent most of his days in the stacks looking up everything from ghosts, to shipwrecks, to local and Eastern seaboard maritime history. In 1937 a merchant ship named the Kenmore had been lost in a Nor'easter along with 27 seamen and its captain Manfred von Aire. The mystery that evolved around it was that it was spotted docked at Norfolk, Virginia the following year by two ex-crewmen who had joined the navy and were stationed there. It caused a bit of a stir around Cape May after that and had been investigated by the government and insurance companies. It turned out that a sister ship, the Kenmack, was the ship spotted by the men but their were no records from the Jones Shipbuilding Company that a sister ship had ever been built and maritime records showed no such ship as the Kenmack. Some say that the whole thing was a secret government deal concerning the war that was brewing around the world. Others said that it was a ghost ship for the men who spotted it also said that they walked the decks and there was not a single crewman on board. The myth and the mystery of the Kenmore grew over the years and sure enough there were other "sightings" and the ones in recent years always came from the decks of the ferry crossing over from Cape May to Lewes, Delaware. One book on ghost ships included a chapter on the Kenmore and the Mystery Channel did a piece on it for cable television.
Shane Murphy was headed no where in particular in life. He just graduated from community college but had not even looked for a job in his major. He worked pizza delivery and rented a flat just off of the bridge where you enter Cape May and spent his free time trying to find something in the mystery of a ghost ship that would give something of substance to his life. He brought up the subject time and time again with John Cermak but the librarian was a Christian and always seemed to finish his answers with some scripture verse that mentioned man as a mortal being that would stand before Jesus Christ after death and not float around in another dimension, but that didn't stop Shane Murphy from asking more and more reference questions.
The nurse pointed to Shane's room and simply shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. The doctors had concluded that Shane had not attempted suicide and was no danger to himself as long as he stayed off of that ferry. John Cermak walked into Shane's room. It was quiet with no TV on as in most of the other rooms. The ceiling light was on but the light at Shane's bed was off and he sat their motionless, just staring straight ahead.
"Mr. Cermak!"
"Hello Shane."
"I saw the Kenmore! Not only that I walked the decks and talked to Captain von Aire...or..I talked to someone anyway."
John didn't comment. He pulled a chair alongside Shane's bed and said "I'm listening."
Shane told the entire story without any interruption from his visitor. He had bought a round-trip ticket and boarded the 8 o'clock ferry. He usually pulled a blanket from the deck cabinets but this evening was particularly warm and he didn't need one. He almost fell asleep on the trip back but was gazing off into the inlet when suddenly the bow of a ship passed by the railing going in the opposite direction, this not more than a meter away. He stood up and tried to scream out to someone but could not. He had no idea what to do as he took a hesitant step towards the rail. The camera that he always lugged on board was in the deck chair. The ship's bridge passed slowly and the name Kenmore was written on the side. There was no lights on the ship and it was going to be gone in a few seconds. Shane had no idea what to do. He grabbed the rail as the stern of the Kenmore approached. He looked up to the bridge of the ferry, saw no one, looked back at the Kenmore about to pass...and leaped! He hit hard on the wooden deck and felt pain in his shoulder. It was quiet all of a sudden, and dark. The noise of the ferry was lessening as it slid away in the distance until it was absolutely quiet. The Kenmore moved quickly along without making any noise. It was as if it was a sailing vessel but it was a coal fed boiler ship. He stood up and took a few steps just to hear the sound of his boots on the deck calling out "Hello" but there was no answer. He saw a very dim light in the windows of the bridge that was ten feet over his head. There was a ladder up to the bridge and he reached out and touched it first, then grabbed it and climbed, rung by rung, up to the catwalk in front of the steering house. He could see nothing through the panes of glass darkened by, what he surmised to be, over 70 years of travelling through the mists of the ocean, but the dim light was still there. He walked to the port side and grabbed the handle to the door into the bridge. Turning it brought the sound of metal to metal and he gently pushed the door bringing a squeaking sound. He pushed the door without stepping inside. His heart was beating fast. There at the wheel, facing out over the bow, a man stood, with a captain's hat and long seaman's coat.
"Captain...Captain von Aire?"
"Captain von Aire?" He repeated louder.
"I've been waiting for you!" came the answer from the man without turning around.
"F..f..f..for me?"
""Yes, for you. I see the faces as she passes by and knew that someone would come to me."
"Captain. the world is waiting to meet you. You'll be the most famous person in the the world when they find out!"
"Find out what seaman Murphy?"
"That you are still alive...how did you know my name, I'm not one of your seaman?"
"I've always known your name. I would call out to you...Come to me seaman Murphy. Come and join me!"
"Where is the rest of the crew? Did they die in the storm?"
"They're all around you seaman Murphy. Can't you hear them?"
Shane heard what seemed to be faint laughter and his skin crawled. The captain had not yet turned to face Shane. He would move the wheel to the port a little and then move it to the starboard, always seeming to gaze ahead into the waters.
"Captain? Did you hear what I said? You have to stop this ship alongside the ferry to show the world that you are alive!"
At that the captain put the lock on the wheel and slowly turned as he said "Alive? Seaman Murphy, I have been dead for millennia..for eons. And now you are dead with me and will be my seaman for ever!" As he turned, his face was fully seen by Shane. It was ashen with no discerning marks to distinguish a nose or mouth...only red eyes that seemed to bore a hole into Shane's eyes. The captain gave a loud and hideous laugh "Pour me some rum seaman Murphy!" he bellowed. "You're going to be a fine seaman!" and again came the laugh.
Shane was too frightened to speak. He backed out of the bridge onto the catwalk. There was no sight of the ferry lights for it was probably back at Cape May by now. The captain shouted out again "Seaman Murphy...come to me." Shane backed away until he felt the ladder and stumbled as he descended. He ran to the rail and saw nothing except the waves that were growing higher and higher. It was cold now. It must be below freezing but it was warm when he was on the ferry. The captain's voice was now all around Shane "Seaman Murphy! You wanted to know about us! Now you do. Come to me! You're mine now!"
Shane ran to a lifeboat on the aft deck and cranked on the wheel that held it in place. Slowly, inches at a time, it lowered. Shane could hear laughter all around by now and thought that he felt a hand on his leg. He cranked and cranked until the lifeboat was bouncing on the waves. Grabbing onto the ropes, he slid down and once again hit hard on the wooden planks on the bottom of the lifeboat. He reached up and loosened the ropes until his skiff was set free. The Kenmore slowly passed and the laughter grew softer and softer until the only thing that could be heard was the crashing of the waves around the small boat. Shane had no idea what to do except wait, but the waves of a tempest that was not forecast, was brewing and endangering the lifeboat. He held onto the seats that were attached to the boat until one wave came completely over him sending him into the raging waters. He found himself crying out to the God that he so often ignored in his conversations with the man who he was now telling his story to. Many minutes had passed and Shane had trouble staying afloat in the cold waters. He was losing consciousness. As he lay as still as he could, holding his breath to stay afloat, he heard voices, yells and screams. A spotlight blinded his vision and he felt hands grabbing him before he passed out. He awoke in that room and told his story but no one was even interested. He thought of no one but John Cermak, until there he stood by the end of his bed.
Shane looked at John and said "What happened to me, Mr. Cermak?"
John spoke his first words since his "I'm listening."
"You were in the water for ten minutes Shane. They spotted you jumping into the water and stopped the ferry immediately. They rescued you in no time. You were never out of their sight."
"Then what did I experience? Was it a dream? Am I possessed?"
"I don't know and I won't speculate Shane. I will say this...you've heard me say it before..."it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgement." You did not die, but will you live?"
John Cermak got up to leave but Shane said "Mr. Cermak! Don't I have to say a prayer or something? Don't I have to become a Christian right now?"
John stopped at the door, turned and said a few last words before leaving, "Shane, the next few days are going to be difficult for you. They may keep you here while you talk to a psychiatrist. I'll come back every day. I listened and didn't say a world. I listened intently. When I come back, I want you to listen intently to the story that I am going to tell you." He pointed to the book he left at the foot of Shane's bed that appeared to be a Bible. "Some reading material for you. Good-bye for now."
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1962...Redux
The following is a short story that I wrote quite a few years ago and used it for my August 22, 2009 blog. I titled it 1962 for that was a time when high school lettered sweaters were a treasured item.
Tommy Wilson walked in, beat and worn out, to the apartment where he and his mother lived. She had been holding dinner off until 7 o'clock every night so that Tommy could go to football practice and then to Spinoza's Market to work for a few hours after practice every day.
Tommy's mother: "Welcome home Johnny U!"
Tommy: "I'm on special teams mom. Johnny Unitas is a quarterback."
Tommy's mother: "Oh. Excuse me! Any new bruises today?"
Tommy: "Yeah. My right shin is really bruised."
Tommy was a senior at Catowaga High School in Buffalo, New York and going out for football for the very first time, for he was on a mission. You see, Tommy was in love with Mary Burns. Mary's family had moved to Buffalo the year before from Chattanooga, Tennessee. Her father was an airline pilot and this is where the job was. Tommy and his mom did not have a lot of money. He would have wanted to buy a ring or a necklace that he could give to Mary so that everyone would know that Mary was his girl but what he finally decided on was going to take a lot of effort. He wanted to make the football team and earn a varsity letter, put it on a sweater, and give it to Mary. All the guys who had lettered had given the lettered sweaters to their girlfriends. One problem that Tommy had was that he had never played football before. You had to get into ten quarters to earn a varsity letter. After a week of practice the coach had told Tommy that the only way he would ever get into a game would be on the kickoff team, and that... only if he could learn to tackle. Tommy had given more effort than anyone on the team, flying down the field and literally throwing his body at charging players. Working at Spinoza's Market would provide him enough money to give some to his mom and also buy the wool sweater for $37.50. That was the plan anyway.
Mary: "Tommy, I'm really worried about you. You get hurt almost every practice and you work so hard afterwards at Spinoza's. Are you sure that you really want to do this? You know that football doesn't mean anything to me."
Tommy: "Mary, I have to do this. Football will be over in December and then I can slow down."
He had not told Mary about the plan or the importance of others knowing that she was his girl. Mary was a Christian girl from the south who always talked about the Lord. He never talked this way about God and didn't know anyone else who did.
Mary: "Tommy. The Bible says that one has to be born again. You should think about this and try to understand what it means."
Tommy: "Mary. I believe in God. I may not be perfect but who is," and then sheepishly added "except maybe you,"
Mary: "You know that I'm not perfect Tommy. Actually I'm far from it since I know the Lord and still cannot live as I should!"
Tommy: "Well you seem pretty close to perfect...in everything...to me Mary."
Tommy's coach was not particularly happy that He expected to win a letter. This was only his second year with the Chargers and he was going to succeed and make coaching his profession. Catawaga had never had a winning football season. They were 0 and 10 the year before Coach Thomas came and 4 and 6 his first year as coach. "Come hell or high water," as the coach would say, they were going to have a winning season this year and that meant 6 wins. The assistant coach, Coach Offen, was a football coach second and a history teacher first. He admired the spunk of this young light-weight senior who for some reason just had to win a varsity letter. His efforts probably helped influence Coach Thomas from cutting Tommy.
Coach Offen: "Are you alright Wilson?"
Tommy: "Yeah coach. I think I forgot to hit with my shoulder instead of my head."
Coach Offen: "Sit down for a while Tommy."
Tommy: "Do I have to coach? I feel OK."
Coach Thomas came over as Tommy headed for the bench.
Coach Thomas: "That kids going to kill himself and get us all in trouble."
Coach Offen: "I'll keep an eye on him Mike. He'll be alright."
Tommy liked to take Mary to this new hamburger joint called McDonald's. It was only 19 cents for a burger and that was all that he could afford on his budget. Mary carried a little Bible with her at all times and liked to sneak in about ten minutes of scripture reading to him every time they were together. Tommy was glad they didn't live in the South for they took religion all too seriously. The first game was the next day and Tommy didn't know if he would get in for the coach gave no clues. The game started and he wasn't on the field for the opening kickoff, nor for the two others in the first half. Catawaga was winning 21 nothing when they took the field in the second half. Coach Thomas barked out orders and yelled Tommy's name for the kickoff without even looking at him. Tommy's first experience in a football game was not all that encouraging. He ran down the field and was belted by someone twice his size...but he had one quarter in for his letter. He wasn't in the game for the fourth quarter. The next week was one of gruelling practices. Tommy hit every opposite colored practice jersey that he had a chance to. Coach Offen patted him on the back but Coach Thomas never acknowledged him. The Chargers were 1 and 0 going into the second game. Again Tommy didn't play in the first half but his name was called for the kickoff in the second half. He flew down the field and hit the first jersey he came to who fell back into the ball carrier enabling his teammates to reach the runner and bring him down. Tommy had actually contributed! He had another chance in the fourth quarter. The kick was real short, someone in the middle had picked up the ball and Tommy had a chance to hit a ball carrier for the first time. Just as he was about to lower his head for the tackle, he was blocked hard and thought that he heard his finger snap. The trainer wrapped it up and later the doctor told him that it was separated and it would keep him out of football for three weeks at least. Tommy now had three quarters of the ten that he needed but the season would be half over when he would be able to play again. The Chargers were 3 and 2 so Coach Thomas was not on the warpath as he had been in the past. The 6th game saw Tommy only get in once in the fourth quarter but he now had four quarters of game play with four games left.
Mary: "Tommy, you played really well last night. You hit that big number 70 real hard!"
Tommy: "But I didn't move him Mary. I can't expect to earn a letter if I can't help the team ."
Mary: "Is that what this is all about...a letter? Why is it so important?"
Tommy: "Well...uh...I just have to win a varsity letter in high school, that's all."
Tommy had a fairly good week of practice but didn't get into the 7th game at all and the team lost. The team was now 4 and 3 and Coach Thomas hardly even practiced Tommy. Tommy thought that he heard Coach Offen mention Tommy's name to Coach Thomas. He couldn't hear what was being said but neither one of them looked very happy. Game 8 went well from the start and the Chargers were up 30 to 0 at the half. There were 10 quarters left and Tommy needed to get into 6 of them. It seemed impossible but Tommy kept giving everything that he had. He was in on the kickoff beginning the second half and Coach Offen slapped him on the back with encouragement. Tommy ran hard down the field and the runner advanced about 20 yards and found himself running straight at Tommy who lowered his head and dove for his legs. The runner went down and Tommy's teammates were slapping Tommy on the helmet but he hurt his finger again and didn't tell anyone. The Chargers put their third string in for the fourth quarter and did not score at all so their was no chance for Tommy to get in. The next week Tommy got in on the opening kickoff but the team was down 28 to 0 at the half and that was it for Tommy. There was now one game left and Tommy needed to get in all four quarters. His finger hurt all week but Tommy hit everything in sight in practice. He was actually learning the game of football with one game left in his career. The team now had 5 wins and 4 losses and needed to win the last game for Coach Thomas to have his winning season. Tommy thought it impossible to get in for all four quarters but Coach Offen told him just to make the plays and it will turn out. It seemed as if Coach Offen had talked to Coach Thomas or something. Tommy was in on the first kickoff and hit a blocker knocking him down. The runner came next and Tommy latched onto his legs for the tackle. It was a high scoring game for three quarters while Tommy was in on every kickoff and made three tackles. Catawaga was losing 28 to 27 in the last quarter of the season and the Chargers could not move the ball nor could the other team. Time was running out on his plan. Five minutes were left in the game, then 4, 3, 2. Waltersville, their main rival, had the ball on their own 10 yard line with a one point lead and only 15 seconds left in the game. Tommy had tears in his eyes. He looked up in the stands and saw Mary looking down at him. She pointed to the sky and Tommy knew what she meant...the Lord was more important than football. Tommy began to feel guilty because his team was about to lose, his coach was not going to reach his goal, but he only cared about himself. The game was just about over when Coach Thomas yelled out Tommy's name. Tommy jumped up and looked at him. The coach told him to go in for Davis in the defensive backfield. Tommy had only played that position in practice, more of a body needed than anything else. He started running out on the field and everyone was yelling at him that he forgot his helmet. He reached the defensive huddle and now had his ten quarters. Why would Coach Thomas do this, especially as they were about to lose? His teammates were oblivious to this. They only had one more play on their mind. The quarterback took the snap and handed off to the fullback who broke through the line and came right at Tommy. Tommy ran straight at him and hit him as hard as he ever hit anyone. Tommy was knocked on his back but heard shouts. He had caused a fumble and everyone was running after the ball. One guy fell on it only to have it squirt out towards Tommy. There was no time to think about anything. He picked it up and ran towards the goal. He was hit short of it but before he fell was hit from behind by a teammate and then another. He felt his feet hit the ground and pushed one more time in the scrum with players in front but more in back. He fell but held onto the ball and could hear yells. What had happened? The referee was pulling players off until he saw Tommy and raised his arms signalling a touchdown. Everyone was pulling at him, slapping him, yelling at him. He had scored the winning touchdown. The Chargers beat their rival and finished the season at 6 wins and 4 losses. Tommy was in a bit of shock. As he walked back towards the sideline he saw Coaches Thomas and Offen talking. Coach Thomas was smiling and shaking his head up and down.
Mary: "Tommy you were unbelievable. You were the hero...and now you'll get your letter."
Tommy: "Mary. I'll tell you later just why I had to have that letter."
Two weeks later was the football banquet where the varsity letters would be given out. Everyone was given two tickets to the dinner to give to their parents. Friends could buy their own. Tommy's mother and Mary would be at his table. The Chargers colors were white and red so Tommy had bought a white wool sweater at Anderson's Department Store and was ready to sew the red letter on the day after the banquet. Tommy's mom had picked up Mary in their 1957 Ford Fairlane and met Tommy at the banquet, for he had gone early for instructions on the ceremony. Tommy was the only senior to be given a letter for the first time. Coach Thomas said a few words about every player that came up to the podium. When he came to Tommy he had this to say:
"Quite frankly, I never expected Tommy Wilson to earn this letter. It is near impossible to earn a varsity letter as a senior without ever having played a down of organized football. In fact, and I'm ashamed to admit it, I was more than a little bit annoyed by his determination, but Coach Offen had faith in Tommy's abilities...abilities that I did not see. He nearly twisted my arm to get Tommy in all four quarters of that last game. Come on up for your letter Tommy. You deserved it as much as anyone on this team."
Tommy was red faced and looked to Coach Offen and smiled as he returned to his table. He gave his varsity letter to his mom and held Mary's hand tight.
Mary: "Well Tommy, I'm so proud of you and now you have that letter that you wanted so much!"
Tommy: "Mary, I never told you why I wanted this letter so bad. All the other guys have something to give to their girls to show everyone that they are their girlfriends. They can afford nice rings and have cars to drive them around in. They take them to the prom and I can't afford that. I worked for that varsity letter to put on a sweater and ask you if you would wear it for the rest of the year. I would be so proud to see you in it, knowing that you are showing everyone that we love each other."
Mary: "Tommy...I had no idea that you felt this way! I...I'm in shock...and I...I have to tell you what is going through my mind right now. Tommy, everyone will one day stand before God after a lifetime of sin, and He will look at them to see if they belong to His Son Jesus. And do you know how He will know? All of those who have trusted in Jesus Christ...and Him alone to save them...will be dressed in white....the Righteousness of Christ. He will give them white robes to show that they are His! The Father will only see what Jesus has done! That's why Jesus came here...to live the perfect life that we cannot live...and to die for our sins...and be resurrected for our redemption as His children! Tommy. If we trust in anything of ourselves we are pulling back that robe of righteousness revealing our sin. God may have given you this determination to win a varsity letter and put it on a sweater just to show you this! When we are born again we see these things Tommy."
Tommy couldn't say a word. The Mary that he loved so much was the Mary that loved Jesus so much. He sometimes felt jealous over this but how wrong he had been! For the very first time he understood what Mary had been trying to tell him. He felt that God must love him for showing him this. He had doubted this before because he had grown up without a father. Tommy felt tears forming in his eyes and turned his head. His mother was just returning to her seat. She had his sweater in her hand and the red varsity letter "C" was sown on. She had secretly brought the sweater with her and returned to her car to sew on the letter. Tommy looked lovingly into his mother's eyes, took the sweater and turned back to Mary. She had stood up and took off the vest that she was wearing. Tommy offered her the sweater and she carefully put it on and sat down.
Mary: "Thank you Tommy."
Tommy looked at her with wet eyes and said:
"Maybe we can both put on something white tonight with the letter "C" on it?"
They held hands as the principle turned on the microphone again and said:
"Well the Supreme Court recently ruled that God cannot come into our schools anymore. Maybe someday we will have to comply....but not tonight! Heavenly Father. Thank you for this night, and for the food we are about to receive..."
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GRANDPA'S WEAPONS
At 108 years old, Mr. Sestak could barely hear the tone that announced an arriving autohover. He slipped his xglass over the bridge of his nose and looked at the north wall of his living room and saw through it to the bright green autohover that was his great-great-grandson Sail's. The autohover roof lifted and Sail jumped out waving at the outside of his grandpa's house, not seeing in but knowing that Grandpa would be looking at him. When inside he hugged the old gentleman for a long time knowing that his Grandpa probably only had another ten years left if he lived to the normal age expectation.
"Sail, what do I owe the honor of this pleasant surprise?
"Grandpa, I was hopin' that you could help me out with a project I have for school." Sail was 16 years old and graduating in a month from community school before entering his "required" four year Public Service Volunteer time.
"Well, It would be a privilege young man. Just what kind of project is it"? Sail shifted his feet while looking down, "Well, Grandpa, I know it's somethin' that you never talk about. A lot of people your age don't like to talk about it."
Old Mr. Sestak knew immediately what the topic was. "Sail, how did you happen to receive a project on this? I know the mentors don't like this talked about in school"
It was my idea and they said that I could do it as long as I didn't keep any of them"
Grandpa Sestak looked heavenward and shook his head. "Oh, they are "sooo" dangerous. Sail, I don't like to talk about it because it brings back memories, good memories, but memories of something that is no more."
"I know Grandpa. Quazr says that you once had a store that sold them and when they took them away, you never were the same." Quazr was Sail's father and old Mr. Sestak's great-grandson.
"Well, Sail, what shall we do for the project?"
"Thanks, Grandpa, I have the video obelisk right here." He pulled the three inch, tapered, four sided shaft with a small, barely visible lens, out of his shirt pocket. "I will ask you questions for ten minutes and that's it. I show it to the class and my final year project is done!"
Mr. Sestak's eyes appeared sad as he thought of a final year project that could be done in a few minutes, but that was the way the schools educated in this age.
Sail had set the video obelisk on the table where they were sitting and pointed it at his Grandpa.
"Grandpa, you own some now, don't you?"
Yes, Sail, I have fourteen that I was allowed to own as keepsakes."
"Were you ever hurt by one?"
Grandpa laughed. "Oh yes, when I was your age , I took a hit or two, but once you know them better, they are one of the greatest gift's that God gave to us."
"Why did they ban them then if they were so good?"
"Men were, and are, afraid of them Sail, if you just play with them and don't take them seriously at all, they can do more damage than good."
"Can I see one?"
Mr. Sestak looked over at the locked cabinet and stared for a few seconds. He had not had one out for a while. He walked over and reached on top, searched a while before pulling down a key. His fingers fumbled a little while he negotiated the lock and then opened the door. Sail was leaning forward on the edge of his chair, he had only seen pictures of them on his video monitors.
Mr. Sestak slowly pulled one out and clutched it with both hands so as not to drop it. There was no dust on them for he had cleaned them every so often. He held it out in front of him and walked towards Sail.
"Sail, I'm glad that this is your project. I should have showed you these years ago. Maybe some day, Lord willing, they will relax their restrictions and we once again can make great use and take great joy in them." He stretched out his arms and offered it to Sail. Sail took it, forgetting that he was on video or he would not have looked so boyish. He felt around the edges and looked up at his Grandpa.
"Go ahead Sail, open it."
"Wow!" Then remembering his classmates will be watching, he took on a more sober look.
"This...is a...book!" He lifted the cover... "THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS."
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I have a personality that is peculiar to me, maybe parts of it shared by others, the balloon boy dad...Dennis Rodman.....WWFs the Undertaker.....Joe the Plumber and the Dalai Lama to name a few. I should tell you a little bit about my appearance. I have Woody Allen's hair, Neptune's beard, Karl Rove's waistline and Pat Boone's voice. I am liked universally, but maybe not by too many on earth. I was the highest percentage skeet shooter in America from June of 1972 until May of 1995 when I took my second shot. I am bilingual, English and Pittsburghese and I can dance as good as I can walk...no wait a minute....that's Archie Bell and the Drells from Houston Texas. I get carried away on this keyboard. Type magic fingers! This isn't a humor blog. Ok, we finally agree on something. There is a serious point that I'm trying to make. Christians do not all have the same personalities. We can be introverted or extroverted. I'm introverted at times and extroverted at other times. Freud called that schizophrenic. I call it eclectic. I have been trying very hard in this blog to show that one can be an American citizen, political and determined; and a Christian at the same time. I tried to show that one could enjoy humor at times and other times, cry out and prostrate oneself before a Holy God that knows me even more than you know me. I desperately wanted to encourage other Christians to trust God that even if you step out and fail, that He is still there. That fearing failure is as the one who hid the talents in the ground. I wanted to demonstrate to the uppity, self-righteous, overly educated and over paid, slim and trim, Banana Republic credit card carrying, BMW driving (except my brother-in-law) Earth Day volunteers that they better eat a hearty breakfast for I'm not rolling over, that there are more "me's"out there than variations of Hillary Clinton's daring escape through the receiving line on that airport tarmac in Bosnia. Most of the trees in our yard have changed color. One stubbornly demands to be the last show on the street. The first one every year to change is the biggest. It turns red. This year it is brilliant red and I have seen cars stopping just to look at it. This evening my next door neighbor was just standing there gazing at it and called it majestic. There are times of the year when the trees are barren and lifeless, similar to my personality at the doctor's office when I'm forced to sit and watch "The View" on the waiting room television, Some time they are a luscious green, the green that some research in psychology says soothes us, and in October they burst out in yellows, oranges and reds. There is no gleam in the eye as sparkling, no face so peaceful and lacking the vanities of the world as that of an elderly Christian who knows the time is nearing that they will ultimately be resurrected to an eternity with Jesus Christ. There is no person on this earth of over six billion people that I admire more than Joni Eareckson Tada http://www.joniandfriends.org/ . She is my age and became paralyzed (quadriplegic) in a diving accident in her teens. If you are not familiar with her, she was the young girl that created beautiful paintings with the brush in her teeth. On television, I've seen her laugh and I've seen her cry. I heard her defend doctrinal truth and I've seen her joke around. The Byrds were on the right track with their 60s song Turn, Turn, Turn but fell short on God's message. He has seasons for the earth and seasons for us. We can no more change the seasons of the trees than change the seasons God has planned for us. This appears to be a season of concern for us in America, and has been so for a while but we have been celebrating through the warning signs. We can still celebrate births and marriages and there is more joy in knowing Christ than even the bleakest season can match. I'll finish this blog and check the Internet news. There may be American military deaths and a vicious bombing in Iraq or Afghanistan and this short time of levity will pass. The joys and laughs are fewer in this season, but they still appear, but clinging to Christ for comfort and strength is easier in a season like this for every season is given at the perfect time and deserving of thanksgiving.
Tommy Wilson walked in, beat and worn out, to the apartment where he and his mother lived. She had been holding dinner off until 7 o'clock every night so that Tommy could go to football practice and then to Spinoza's Market to work for a few hours after practice every day.
Tommy's mother: "Welcome home Johnny U!"
Tommy: "I'm on special teams mom. Johnny Unitas is a quarterback."
Tommy's mother: "Oh. Excuse me! Any new bruises today?"
Tommy: "Yeah. My right shin is really bruised."
Tommy was a senior at Catowaga High School in Buffalo, New York and going out for football for the very first time, for he was on a mission. You see, Tommy was in love with Mary Burns. Mary's family had moved to Buffalo the year before from Chattanooga, Tennessee. Her father was an airline pilot and this is where the job was. Tommy and his mom did not have a lot of money. He would have wanted to buy a ring or a necklace that he could give to Mary so that everyone would know that Mary was his girl but what he finally decided on was going to take a lot of effort. He wanted to make the football team and earn a varsity letter, put it on a sweater, and give it to Mary. All the guys who had lettered had given the lettered sweaters to their girlfriends. One problem that Tommy had was that he had never played football before. You had to get into ten quarters to earn a varsity letter. After a week of practice the coach had told Tommy that the only way he would ever get into a game would be on the kickoff team, and that... only if he could learn to tackle. Tommy had given more effort than anyone on the team, flying down the field and literally throwing his body at charging players. Working at Spinoza's Market would provide him enough money to give some to his mom and also buy the wool sweater for $37.50. That was the plan anyway.
Mary: "Tommy, I'm really worried about you. You get hurt almost every practice and you work so hard afterwards at Spinoza's. Are you sure that you really want to do this? You know that football doesn't mean anything to me."
Tommy: "Mary, I have to do this. Football will be over in December and then I can slow down."
He had not told Mary about the plan or the importance of others knowing that she was his girl. Mary was a Christian girl from the south who always talked about the Lord. He never talked this way about God and didn't know anyone else who did.
Mary: "Tommy. The Bible says that one has to be born again. You should think about this and try to understand what it means."
Tommy: "Mary. I believe in God. I may not be perfect but who is," and then sheepishly added "except maybe you,"
Mary: "You know that I'm not perfect Tommy. Actually I'm far from it since I know the Lord and still cannot live as I should!"
Tommy: "Well you seem pretty close to perfect...in everything...to me Mary."
Tommy's coach was not particularly happy that He expected to win a letter. This was only his second year with the Chargers and he was going to succeed and make coaching his profession. Catawaga had never had a winning football season. They were 0 and 10 the year before Coach Thomas came and 4 and 6 his first year as coach. "Come hell or high water," as the coach would say, they were going to have a winning season this year and that meant 6 wins. The assistant coach, Coach Offen, was a football coach second and a history teacher first. He admired the spunk of this young light-weight senior who for some reason just had to win a varsity letter. His efforts probably helped influence Coach Thomas from cutting Tommy.
Coach Offen: "Are you alright Wilson?"
Tommy: "Yeah coach. I think I forgot to hit with my shoulder instead of my head."
Coach Offen: "Sit down for a while Tommy."
Tommy: "Do I have to coach? I feel OK."
Coach Thomas came over as Tommy headed for the bench.
Coach Thomas: "That kids going to kill himself and get us all in trouble."
Coach Offen: "I'll keep an eye on him Mike. He'll be alright."
Tommy liked to take Mary to this new hamburger joint called McDonald's. It was only 19 cents for a burger and that was all that he could afford on his budget. Mary carried a little Bible with her at all times and liked to sneak in about ten minutes of scripture reading to him every time they were together. Tommy was glad they didn't live in the South for they took religion all too seriously. The first game was the next day and Tommy didn't know if he would get in for the coach gave no clues. The game started and he wasn't on the field for the opening kickoff, nor for the two others in the first half. Catawaga was winning 21 nothing when they took the field in the second half. Coach Thomas barked out orders and yelled Tommy's name for the kickoff without even looking at him. Tommy's first experience in a football game was not all that encouraging. He ran down the field and was belted by someone twice his size...but he had one quarter in for his letter. He wasn't in the game for the fourth quarter. The next week was one of gruelling practices. Tommy hit every opposite colored practice jersey that he had a chance to. Coach Offen patted him on the back but Coach Thomas never acknowledged him. The Chargers were 1 and 0 going into the second game. Again Tommy didn't play in the first half but his name was called for the kickoff in the second half. He flew down the field and hit the first jersey he came to who fell back into the ball carrier enabling his teammates to reach the runner and bring him down. Tommy had actually contributed! He had another chance in the fourth quarter. The kick was real short, someone in the middle had picked up the ball and Tommy had a chance to hit a ball carrier for the first time. Just as he was about to lower his head for the tackle, he was blocked hard and thought that he heard his finger snap. The trainer wrapped it up and later the doctor told him that it was separated and it would keep him out of football for three weeks at least. Tommy now had three quarters of the ten that he needed but the season would be half over when he would be able to play again. The Chargers were 3 and 2 so Coach Thomas was not on the warpath as he had been in the past. The 6th game saw Tommy only get in once in the fourth quarter but he now had four quarters of game play with four games left.
Mary: "Tommy, you played really well last night. You hit that big number 70 real hard!"
Tommy: "But I didn't move him Mary. I can't expect to earn a letter if I can't help the team ."
Mary: "Is that what this is all about...a letter? Why is it so important?"
Tommy: "Well...uh...I just have to win a varsity letter in high school, that's all."
Tommy had a fairly good week of practice but didn't get into the 7th game at all and the team lost. The team was now 4 and 3 and Coach Thomas hardly even practiced Tommy. Tommy thought that he heard Coach Offen mention Tommy's name to Coach Thomas. He couldn't hear what was being said but neither one of them looked very happy. Game 8 went well from the start and the Chargers were up 30 to 0 at the half. There were 10 quarters left and Tommy needed to get into 6 of them. It seemed impossible but Tommy kept giving everything that he had. He was in on the kickoff beginning the second half and Coach Offen slapped him on the back with encouragement. Tommy ran hard down the field and the runner advanced about 20 yards and found himself running straight at Tommy who lowered his head and dove for his legs. The runner went down and Tommy's teammates were slapping Tommy on the helmet but he hurt his finger again and didn't tell anyone. The Chargers put their third string in for the fourth quarter and did not score at all so their was no chance for Tommy to get in. The next week Tommy got in on the opening kickoff but the team was down 28 to 0 at the half and that was it for Tommy. There was now one game left and Tommy needed to get in all four quarters. His finger hurt all week but Tommy hit everything in sight in practice. He was actually learning the game of football with one game left in his career. The team now had 5 wins and 4 losses and needed to win the last game for Coach Thomas to have his winning season. Tommy thought it impossible to get in for all four quarters but Coach Offen told him just to make the plays and it will turn out. It seemed as if Coach Offen had talked to Coach Thomas or something. Tommy was in on the first kickoff and hit a blocker knocking him down. The runner came next and Tommy latched onto his legs for the tackle. It was a high scoring game for three quarters while Tommy was in on every kickoff and made three tackles. Catawaga was losing 28 to 27 in the last quarter of the season and the Chargers could not move the ball nor could the other team. Time was running out on his plan. Five minutes were left in the game, then 4, 3, 2. Waltersville, their main rival, had the ball on their own 10 yard line with a one point lead and only 15 seconds left in the game. Tommy had tears in his eyes. He looked up in the stands and saw Mary looking down at him. She pointed to the sky and Tommy knew what she meant...the Lord was more important than football. Tommy began to feel guilty because his team was about to lose, his coach was not going to reach his goal, but he only cared about himself. The game was just about over when Coach Thomas yelled out Tommy's name. Tommy jumped up and looked at him. The coach told him to go in for Davis in the defensive backfield. Tommy had only played that position in practice, more of a body needed than anything else. He started running out on the field and everyone was yelling at him that he forgot his helmet. He reached the defensive huddle and now had his ten quarters. Why would Coach Thomas do this, especially as they were about to lose? His teammates were oblivious to this. They only had one more play on their mind. The quarterback took the snap and handed off to the fullback who broke through the line and came right at Tommy. Tommy ran straight at him and hit him as hard as he ever hit anyone. Tommy was knocked on his back but heard shouts. He had caused a fumble and everyone was running after the ball. One guy fell on it only to have it squirt out towards Tommy. There was no time to think about anything. He picked it up and ran towards the goal. He was hit short of it but before he fell was hit from behind by a teammate and then another. He felt his feet hit the ground and pushed one more time in the scrum with players in front but more in back. He fell but held onto the ball and could hear yells. What had happened? The referee was pulling players off until he saw Tommy and raised his arms signalling a touchdown. Everyone was pulling at him, slapping him, yelling at him. He had scored the winning touchdown. The Chargers beat their rival and finished the season at 6 wins and 4 losses. Tommy was in a bit of shock. As he walked back towards the sideline he saw Coaches Thomas and Offen talking. Coach Thomas was smiling and shaking his head up and down.
Mary: "Tommy you were unbelievable. You were the hero...and now you'll get your letter."
Tommy: "Mary. I'll tell you later just why I had to have that letter."
Two weeks later was the football banquet where the varsity letters would be given out. Everyone was given two tickets to the dinner to give to their parents. Friends could buy their own. Tommy's mother and Mary would be at his table. The Chargers colors were white and red so Tommy had bought a white wool sweater at Anderson's Department Store and was ready to sew the red letter on the day after the banquet. Tommy's mom had picked up Mary in their 1957 Ford Fairlane and met Tommy at the banquet, for he had gone early for instructions on the ceremony. Tommy was the only senior to be given a letter for the first time. Coach Thomas said a few words about every player that came up to the podium. When he came to Tommy he had this to say:
"Quite frankly, I never expected Tommy Wilson to earn this letter. It is near impossible to earn a varsity letter as a senior without ever having played a down of organized football. In fact, and I'm ashamed to admit it, I was more than a little bit annoyed by his determination, but Coach Offen had faith in Tommy's abilities...abilities that I did not see. He nearly twisted my arm to get Tommy in all four quarters of that last game. Come on up for your letter Tommy. You deserved it as much as anyone on this team."
Tommy was red faced and looked to Coach Offen and smiled as he returned to his table. He gave his varsity letter to his mom and held Mary's hand tight.
Mary: "Well Tommy, I'm so proud of you and now you have that letter that you wanted so much!"
Tommy: "Mary, I never told you why I wanted this letter so bad. All the other guys have something to give to their girls to show everyone that they are their girlfriends. They can afford nice rings and have cars to drive them around in. They take them to the prom and I can't afford that. I worked for that varsity letter to put on a sweater and ask you if you would wear it for the rest of the year. I would be so proud to see you in it, knowing that you are showing everyone that we love each other."
Mary: "Tommy...I had no idea that you felt this way! I...I'm in shock...and I...I have to tell you what is going through my mind right now. Tommy, everyone will one day stand before God after a lifetime of sin, and He will look at them to see if they belong to His Son Jesus. And do you know how He will know? All of those who have trusted in Jesus Christ...and Him alone to save them...will be dressed in white....the Righteousness of Christ. He will give them white robes to show that they are His! The Father will only see what Jesus has done! That's why Jesus came here...to live the perfect life that we cannot live...and to die for our sins...and be resurrected for our redemption as His children! Tommy. If we trust in anything of ourselves we are pulling back that robe of righteousness revealing our sin. God may have given you this determination to win a varsity letter and put it on a sweater just to show you this! When we are born again we see these things Tommy."
Tommy couldn't say a word. The Mary that he loved so much was the Mary that loved Jesus so much. He sometimes felt jealous over this but how wrong he had been! For the very first time he understood what Mary had been trying to tell him. He felt that God must love him for showing him this. He had doubted this before because he had grown up without a father. Tommy felt tears forming in his eyes and turned his head. His mother was just returning to her seat. She had his sweater in her hand and the red varsity letter "C" was sown on. She had secretly brought the sweater with her and returned to her car to sew on the letter. Tommy looked lovingly into his mother's eyes, took the sweater and turned back to Mary. She had stood up and took off the vest that she was wearing. Tommy offered her the sweater and she carefully put it on and sat down.
Mary: "Thank you Tommy."
Tommy looked at her with wet eyes and said:
"Maybe we can both put on something white tonight with the letter "C" on it?"
They held hands as the principle turned on the microphone again and said:
"Well the Supreme Court recently ruled that God cannot come into our schools anymore. Maybe someday we will have to comply....but not tonight! Heavenly Father. Thank you for this night, and for the food we are about to receive..."
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GRANDPA'S WEAPONS
At 108 years old, Mr. Sestak could barely hear the tone that announced an arriving autohover. He slipped his xglass over the bridge of his nose and looked at the north wall of his living room and saw through it to the bright green autohover that was his great-great-grandson Sail's. The autohover roof lifted and Sail jumped out waving at the outside of his grandpa's house, not seeing in but knowing that Grandpa would be looking at him. When inside he hugged the old gentleman for a long time knowing that his Grandpa probably only had another ten years left if he lived to the normal age expectation.
"Sail, what do I owe the honor of this pleasant surprise?
"Grandpa, I was hopin' that you could help me out with a project I have for school." Sail was 16 years old and graduating in a month from community school before entering his "required" four year Public Service Volunteer time.
"Well, It would be a privilege young man. Just what kind of project is it"? Sail shifted his feet while looking down, "Well, Grandpa, I know it's somethin' that you never talk about. A lot of people your age don't like to talk about it."
Old Mr. Sestak knew immediately what the topic was. "Sail, how did you happen to receive a project on this? I know the mentors don't like this talked about in school"
It was my idea and they said that I could do it as long as I didn't keep any of them"
Grandpa Sestak looked heavenward and shook his head. "Oh, they are "sooo" dangerous. Sail, I don't like to talk about it because it brings back memories, good memories, but memories of something that is no more."
"I know Grandpa. Quazr says that you once had a store that sold them and when they took them away, you never were the same." Quazr was Sail's father and old Mr. Sestak's great-grandson.
"Well, Sail, what shall we do for the project?"
"Thanks, Grandpa, I have the video obelisk right here." He pulled the three inch, tapered, four sided shaft with a small, barely visible lens, out of his shirt pocket. "I will ask you questions for ten minutes and that's it. I show it to the class and my final year project is done!"
Mr. Sestak's eyes appeared sad as he thought of a final year project that could be done in a few minutes, but that was the way the schools educated in this age.
Sail had set the video obelisk on the table where they were sitting and pointed it at his Grandpa.
"Grandpa, you own some now, don't you?"
Yes, Sail, I have fourteen that I was allowed to own as keepsakes."
"Were you ever hurt by one?"
Grandpa laughed. "Oh yes, when I was your age , I took a hit or two, but once you know them better, they are one of the greatest gift's that God gave to us."
"Why did they ban them then if they were so good?"
"Men were, and are, afraid of them Sail, if you just play with them and don't take them seriously at all, they can do more damage than good."
"Can I see one?"
Mr. Sestak looked over at the locked cabinet and stared for a few seconds. He had not had one out for a while. He walked over and reached on top, searched a while before pulling down a key. His fingers fumbled a little while he negotiated the lock and then opened the door. Sail was leaning forward on the edge of his chair, he had only seen pictures of them on his video monitors.
Mr. Sestak slowly pulled one out and clutched it with both hands so as not to drop it. There was no dust on them for he had cleaned them every so often. He held it out in front of him and walked towards Sail.
"Sail, I'm glad that this is your project. I should have showed you these years ago. Maybe some day, Lord willing, they will relax their restrictions and we once again can make great use and take great joy in them." He stretched out his arms and offered it to Sail. Sail took it, forgetting that he was on video or he would not have looked so boyish. He felt around the edges and looked up at his Grandpa.
"Go ahead Sail, open it."
"Wow!" Then remembering his classmates will be watching, he took on a more sober look.
"This...is a...book!" He lifted the cover... "THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS."
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I have a personality that is peculiar to me, maybe parts of it shared by others, the balloon boy dad...Dennis Rodman.....WWFs the Undertaker.....Joe the Plumber and the Dalai Lama to name a few. I should tell you a little bit about my appearance. I have Woody Allen's hair, Neptune's beard, Karl Rove's waistline and Pat Boone's voice. I am liked universally, but maybe not by too many on earth. I was the highest percentage skeet shooter in America from June of 1972 until May of 1995 when I took my second shot. I am bilingual, English and Pittsburghese and I can dance as good as I can walk...no wait a minute....that's Archie Bell and the Drells from Houston Texas. I get carried away on this keyboard. Type magic fingers! This isn't a humor blog. Ok, we finally agree on something. There is a serious point that I'm trying to make. Christians do not all have the same personalities. We can be introverted or extroverted. I'm introverted at times and extroverted at other times. Freud called that schizophrenic. I call it eclectic. I have been trying very hard in this blog to show that one can be an American citizen, political and determined; and a Christian at the same time. I tried to show that one could enjoy humor at times and other times, cry out and prostrate oneself before a Holy God that knows me even more than you know me. I desperately wanted to encourage other Christians to trust God that even if you step out and fail, that He is still there. That fearing failure is as the one who hid the talents in the ground. I wanted to demonstrate to the uppity, self-righteous, overly educated and over paid, slim and trim, Banana Republic credit card carrying, BMW driving (except my brother-in-law) Earth Day volunteers that they better eat a hearty breakfast for I'm not rolling over, that there are more "me's"out there than variations of Hillary Clinton's daring escape through the receiving line on that airport tarmac in Bosnia. Most of the trees in our yard have changed color. One stubbornly demands to be the last show on the street. The first one every year to change is the biggest. It turns red. This year it is brilliant red and I have seen cars stopping just to look at it. This evening my next door neighbor was just standing there gazing at it and called it majestic. There are times of the year when the trees are barren and lifeless, similar to my personality at the doctor's office when I'm forced to sit and watch "The View" on the waiting room television, Some time they are a luscious green, the green that some research in psychology says soothes us, and in October they burst out in yellows, oranges and reds. There is no gleam in the eye as sparkling, no face so peaceful and lacking the vanities of the world as that of an elderly Christian who knows the time is nearing that they will ultimately be resurrected to an eternity with Jesus Christ. There is no person on this earth of over six billion people that I admire more than Joni Eareckson Tada http://www.joniandfriends.org/ . She is my age and became paralyzed (quadriplegic) in a diving accident in her teens. If you are not familiar with her, she was the young girl that created beautiful paintings with the brush in her teeth. On television, I've seen her laugh and I've seen her cry. I heard her defend doctrinal truth and I've seen her joke around. The Byrds were on the right track with their 60s song Turn, Turn, Turn but fell short on God's message. He has seasons for the earth and seasons for us. We can no more change the seasons of the trees than change the seasons God has planned for us. This appears to be a season of concern for us in America, and has been so for a while but we have been celebrating through the warning signs. We can still celebrate births and marriages and there is more joy in knowing Christ than even the bleakest season can match. I'll finish this blog and check the Internet news. There may be American military deaths and a vicious bombing in Iraq or Afghanistan and this short time of levity will pass. The joys and laughs are fewer in this season, but they still appear, but clinging to Christ for comfort and strength is easier in a season like this for every season is given at the perfect time and deserving of thanksgiving.