The Scurvy McBeady Chronicles

Our "Leadership" Is Just Unbelievable!

2012-02-09T13:09:00.003-06:00

I just saw an interesting article saying scientists speculate humans may have descended from sea sponges. I think they're onto something. Without getting into the theology of such a discovery, I offer proof:

Anyone who doesn't believe that we descended from sea sponges only needs to take a good hard look at the U.S. Congress.

I rest my case....

I have a question about the No Child Left Behind Law.

We -- I say "we," Congress -- passed it in 2001. Basically, it mandated that all public school-educated children be proficient in reading and mathematics by 2014.

It's now 2012, and we learn that the president is granting compliance waivers to 10 states and plans to let, what, 28 more off the hook? My question:

How did this happen?

Without even getting into the folly of government by fiat our president seems to favor, I want to know, first, how can any school in this country take 11 (that's right, ELEVEN) years NOT to teach any kid of average smarts reading or mathematics? I'm not an educator, but I'm confident I could teach such a child not to read or work fractions in a LOT less time than 11 years!

For some time now (by that, I mean years), the NCLB Law has been criticized for being all but impossible to implement. As I understand it, certain "unworkable" aspects of the law were uncovered almost immediately. Did no one in government think to say, "Hey, maybe we better take another look at this thing. We certainly don't want to pass an unreasonable law."?

Professional "educators" and our federal "leaders" wouldn't even have had to get off their butts just to THINK about it a bit.

Once again, I have this bit of advice to offer to our federal officials:

STOP PLAYING POLITICS, GET OFF YOUR ASSES AND START WORRYING ABOUT SOMETHING BESIDES THE NEXT ELECTION!

Now.

If you know me, you know I GOTTA say something about our president's increasing tendency to skirt Congress. I can understand his frustration. Some of his efforts I applaud and think they certainly are worthy of consideration, at least. A couple of his goals may even be noble.

But he's started down the proverbial "slippery slope." I don't believe the American People elected him to rule by decree. (And if we did, we shouldn't have and shame on us!) As our chief executive, he's our top manager. The last time I looked up the words "manager," "executive" or "administrator," "dictator" was not a synonym.

One man does not rule the United States. Obama is becoming an imperial president, and that has to STOP! Congress MUST get its collective head out of where-the-sun-don't-shine and hit the brakes on this bus. Either by taking away his license to drive or, at the very least, getting up and taking back the steering wheel!

If not, all we'll have left is just to dance....

Opinions are like...everybody has one!

2012-01-25T11:07:00.000-06:00

I must respond to Ian Moone's comments on my previous blog. Then, that will end it.

Ian,

I applaud your apparent ability to research and your apparent study of history. Your life has colored your opinions just as my life as colored mine. Maybe that accounts for the cynicism and bitterness I sense in you. Regardless, I do not call you ignorant because of them.

You see, Ian, the difference between you and I is that you seem bitter and to have given up on our nation -- perhaps on people, too. Conversely, I believe in our country, and I believe in the innate goodess of the individual.

We as a nation have made a great many mistakes over the course of our existence, both recent and "ancient." We've undoubtedly committed some acts for which we should be ashamed. For my part, however, I choose not to dwell on the past. It's gone; we cannot change it. We can only hope learn from it. And try to better our behavior and the lives of those around us for our children.

Does that excuse those mistakes and actions? No!

I don't believe, though, any rational person can equate U.S. actions in modern times, however horrible they may be/have been, with Stalin's. He incarcerated, tortured and murdered MILLIONS of his OWN people!

Note: I define Middle America as a group of people of all races, religions and social standing trying to make their ways through life as best they can. They're NOT one ethnic group of one economic level in one area of the nation. Some of them are liberal, and some of them are not. Mostly, they want to be left alone. They're certainly not dupes of some faceless giant industrial/political/economic conspirator intent on keeping them downtrodden. To indicate they are is to paint with a broad brush, much in the way bigots and racists wield stereotypes.

I have a rhetorical question to you: If you are a U.S. citizen, and if you believe Scandinavian or other nations are edens, why are you not a citizen elsewhere? Undoubtedly, you and others with whom you're acquainted would be much happier.

...Then, we can all just dance....

Throwing stones only breaks stuff....

2012-01-24T12:39:00.003-06:00

I recently engaged in an interesting thread on Facebook that has inspired this posting;specifically, from one Ian.

This is not an attempt to denigrate Ian in any way. His comments galvanized my thoughts, and I thank him for that. I hope I've understood him correctly. (If I haven't, Ian, please tell me.) My take is that Ian believes "the entire U.S. is populated by right-wingers" and both major political parties have sold out to the money interests. Additionally, he praises Europe's approach to similar problems and says the U.S. pursues recent "policies that would have made Stalin blush."

As I drafted my reply to his postings, I found it too long for my liking for Facebook. Thus, this blog, a sort of "open letter" re Ian's comments.

So. Ian....

I agree with much of what you say. We indeed have a lot of problems in this country. On other things, though, I respectfully disagree.

First, I assume your comment re Stalin is hyperbole. To actually believe that is, I'm sorry, absurd. That's all I'll say on that.

Continuing, indeed, we must get the taxation system straightened out. The health-care system certainly could be improved, as well. However, I don't think our problems are as dark as some paint them, nor as bright. I don't believe we should blindly follow the "European model" (my quotes, not your's) to solve our problems. Europe has its own brand of troubles.

Our nation is unique and as such needs unique solutions. It was founded on individual freedom and initiative and based upon the belief that all have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That doesn't mean that I have the right to your earned wealth simply because you have more than me. (That seemed the purpose of the Occupy movement, but that's another topic.)

Some would have us shift wealth to the point that everyone gets something for nothing. We've operated under that misconception far too long and, unfortunately, it's an impossible scenario. Such a state becomes welfare/socialist and, if let grow unpruned, removes incentive, thereby killing individual initiative.

If we learned nothing from the shredding of the Iron Curtain, we should have learned that.

Does this mean that we should keep muddling along, bickering and accomplishing nothing? Certainly not! Name-calling, intolerance and ridicule only destroy; not build.

We've come to rely on Uncle Sugar too heavily since the days of FDR, and we have become too lazy and complacent. That's led to our electing lazy, complacent leaders with no moral compass who embrace, if not the moneyed interests, at least the goal of remaining in office forever. And we've allowed them to be fiscally, socially, morally and politically irresponsible without holding them accountable.

They lie and equivocate. They squander our wealth with the intent of pleasing everyone, with no thought to the nation's future. And we Americans, wallowing in self interest, let them.

Now, however, I see a groundswell of discontent with the status quo. People have begun to wake up, have gotten frustrated with what they've seen and have gotten involved. As caring Americans, we should celebrate that involvement, not ridicule their ideas or slander their intent.

I don't agree with everything the Tea Party puts forth, nor do I believe everything the religious right expounds. As someone moderately conservative and a Christian, I certainly strongly resent being characterized as "right wing." Likewise, Democrats and Republicans, I'm sure, resent being painted as "long-haired, hippie-type pinko fags" (Charlie Daniels' lyric) and mean-spirited fat cats, respectively. Stereotypes are easy to wield, but no more valid than racial slurs. (We all know them, so no need to list them here.) It's all hateful.

My belief is that Middle America is filled with folk who are hard-working, God-fearing, patriotic and family-oriented. We may tend towards conservatism, but by no means are we lynch-mob Bible-pounding isolationists. We may have made the mistake of trusting the foxes to guard the hen house, but I don't think that'll be a problem any more. I hope we've awakened.

Finally, Ian, I agree: I think both the established parties have failed us, and our government is long overdue for a general housecleaning. But let me add one more thing:

When I entered the U.S. Navy in January 1968, I did so thinking I might just expatriate when my hitch was up. In my particular job, I visited eight countries in Europe and the Mediterranean, plus the Caribbean. Most of those places, I lived on the local economy, so my outlook was less colored by the military. Several of them were nice, but I found nowhere that made me think living there was better than in the USA. And I looked hard. Why do you think we have an immigration problem? Our nation has its warts, certainly. But it's the best place to be on this planet, I have no doubt!

I enjoyed our interchange, Ian. Thank you.

I pray America'a citizens, no matter where they sit on the political or social spectrum, aren't content just to bellyache, point fingers and not try to make life better for all of us in these United States

...Then maybe we can all dance....

What It Means to Be a Veteran

2011-11-10T22:29:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking all day about what it means to be a veteran of the United States military.

To me, it's being in an exclusive club -- the finest, most exclusive club ever. It's knowing that, no matter how bad things may get in my life, I will have someone, another vet, around to listen and understand.

It means I've lived in the certainty that, even if I didn't like another sailor or soldier or airman, or he, me, if things got serious, we could count on each other, perhaps even to death.

It means having lost brothers or sisters in horrible ways the majority of Americans cannot imagine. Being a veteran also is friendships that'll never be lost, even if you never see that person again, or speak to him or her.

You might say I come from a military family, but not in the traditional sense. My dad's dad was in the Canadian Army, I recently learned. One of his older brothers, my great-uncle Jesse, was a U.S. Naval officer in WWI. In WWII, both my mom's younger brothers were in the Navy, as well, as SeaBees (Construction Battalion) island-hopping across the Pacific with the Marines. My dad quit high school and joined the Navy as well after Pearl Harbor. I have a cousin who, like me, is a Vietnam-era vet. He was a Marine with an in-country tour under his belt. I had other friends who served. Some of them died; some served, but have never told me. Nonetheless, they all served honorably, my dad through the end of the Korean War.

I never had a chance to talk to my gran'pa or great uncle about their experiences. They died when I was very young. Only one time did I ever hear my dad or his brothers-in-law talk to any extent about their war experiences. They just didn't say much about 'em. But one night when I was in junior high school, we had a get-together at our house, and as always, the women stayed in the kitchen chatting while the men moved to another room.

They popped a couple of bottle tops and began sharing their experiences. I overheard a few things, but they gently shooed me towards the TV as the conversation grew deeper. What I saw, and what little I heard that night, were three men, not especially close in their daily lives, sharing a common experience probably none of their other friends could. I gathered that all three saw some pretty heavy action. That night, they opened up and talk about things they'd probably held inside for years.

That night, they were talking to people, other vets, you see, who would understand. There was a bond in the room, and I could feel it.

My situation was different. I was what I call a "support sailor." Not a minute of six years' active duty was aboard a ship (if you don't count the USS Neversail in San Diego). I worked in communications. It was my job, along with all the other men I worked with, to ensure that the guys doing the grunt work got the best information available as efficiently and quickly as possible.

Most of the time, it seemed a long way between what I did and the men out front. But I was around enough deep-water sailors and combat-tested Marines to respect them more than I can express. When I look back -- and I know every one of those I worked with feel the same way -- I am very proud of any small part I may have had in helping those who laid everything on the line.

Blessedly, my son and daughter did not have to answer the call I and my forebears did. Maybe their children will, however, who knows? Regardless, I pray that they will respect, and pass on that respect of, our Americans in uniform. Ours is a citizen army, perhaps the only ongoing such force the world has known. It's been that way from the beginning, because we as a nation have called upon our people to serve in times of need -- and they answered, "Yes."

So mostly, I guess, being a veteran means serving the nation, unselfishly, because it's needed. For this, if nothing else, all veterans, every one, deserve our respect -- and our thanks.

Thank God they're among us! So, maybe I'll just dance...!

Our New Patriotism?

2011-07-03T14:48:00.000-05:00

I'm a Vietnam-era vet. Independence Day, July 4, means a lot to me. So does the Flag and the National Anthem.

When I was in the Navy in the late '60s-early '70s, I wasn't that way. In fact, I and other of my fellow sailors often went to extremes to keep our situation hidden.

I knew one guy who almost never had his hair trimmed except on his neck. He'd comb it straight back and plaster it on the top and sides with gobs of Dippity Do, and he'd have his neck hair "blocked" only. While he was on duty, then, his hair was cemented in place, and the officers and senior petty officers would pretend they didn't notice. After his watch, he'd wash his hair and basically have a bowl haircut. I guess he felt that was acceptable to his non-Navy friends, and it eased his paranoia.

I knew another sailor who worried so much about what his civilian friends thought of his military service, he had a nervous breakdown and was medically discharged. He apparently never found a way to cope.

Like most everyone else I knew who was not in it for the long haul -- we ridiculed them, unfairly I know now, as "lifers" -- I too stretched the dress and grooming regulations as far as I could. I'm sure, though, that even when we weren't in uniform, people easily recognized us as military. But many of us first-termers suffered from the very real fear of being scorned, or worse, for being a part of such an unpopular war. We were afraid the average American hated us, and stretching the regs helped. It was one way to deal with the times.

And my part of the military, communication and support, suffered little bias compared to the marines, soldiers and airmen we knew --those who saw the real action. Though indirectly, we hurt for our fellow G.I.s who, usually after a couple of beers, would tell with a shrug how he'd been called names, spat at or, occasionally, even had something thrown at him as he walked through a West Coast airport, perhaps upon his return from WestPac.

Thank God, very little of that occurs in our nation today. There is a new sense of patriotism in the country that was deeply buried during Vietnam. We now have a renewed sense of national pride.

Having said that, I am a bit worried.

I see people recognizing and thanking our military men and women almost everywhere I go. (Maybe not during Black Friday, 'cause they'd be preoccupied with trampling each other over the post-Thanksgiving bargains. But I stay away from stores during that time, so I don't really know....)

Anyway, I'm extremely pleased that Americans today have again realized the sacrifices our military personnel and their families are making for us. And I believe we need to do more than just superficially thank them. I've seen too many examples of the hardships families go through when one or both of the spouses are called to active duty. I certainly do NOT believe Uncle Sugar is the panacea for every social ill. I do think, however, that if we call upon that portion of our citizens to serve us the way the military does, we need to make it right with them and their families while they serve, and reward them upon their return.

Currently, we're only giving 'em lip service.

I'm a middle-of-the-road-type guy, with leanings perhaps more to the right than left. And while I celebrate the patriotic revival the U.S. is experiencing, I see its darker side, too. Some are using it in ways that border on shameful.

For example, I disagree with most of the stuff currently espoused by liberals, or progressives, if you wanna call 'em that. But I am not and WILL NOT believe that all of those who do not agree with my points of view are un-American! I may believe they're misguided, perhaps foolish, and it seems too many times lately, dumber than a box of rocks. But I DON'T go along with the "America, love it or leave it" attitude too many of us are spouting today. That's too darn close to the attitude I saw too many examples of during the Vietnam era. Too many people were blindly following an administration's policies that arguably were dragging/pushing us ever closer to fascism.

This Independence Day, I see too many Americans NOT thinking for themselves. Instead, they seem again to be BLINDLY following someone or a group of someones claiming love of country as their motivation and wrapped in the flag of convenient patriotism. I see Americans looking across a political gulf and pointing fingers, playing the blame game; even hating other Americans who don't share their views. And it doesn't matter which end of the political spectrum they're on.

It is MY duty, as it is YOURS, to criticize the injustice, unfairness and illegalities we see in our nation. Because I see something differently from you, however, doesn't mean YOU are subversive and I am infallible, or vice versa. As Christians are charged to "love the sinner, hate the sin," we Americans are charged to respect each other, dislike the viewpoint.

Putting this nation together, the Founding Fathers didn't see eye to eye by any stretch of the imagination. We don't need to, either.

Far Left, Far Right, Conservatives, Liberals, Progressives, Moderates, Radicals, Tea Party-ers, Democrats, Republicans:

STOP TRYING TO WIN AND STOP THINKING ONLY OF YOURSELVES! GET THIS NATION GOING AGAIN!!! YOU HEAR ME???

...If you don't we won't have anyplace, or any reason, to dance....

My Dad

2011-06-19T00:01:00.001-05:00

In just a few minutes, it'll be Fathers' Day 2011.

Come November, Dad will be gone 20 years. I wish he was still here, but I also know he's in a better place than he ever could have imagined while he lived.

Dad would have been 87 last March 1. If he was still alive, those intervening years would have been hard on him. He was a diabetic with an insatiable sweet tooth. He'd already had bypass surgery, necessary the surgeon said, solely because he had smoked for 40-some years. When he was just a young man, around 30, I think, he'd had his back broken in an auto accident and it hurt him to spend extended periods on his feet. Additionally, five or six years before he died, Dad had fallen off a ladder while pruning the big tree in his front yard and broken his neck. Not in a way that threatened paralysis, but, probably due to his age, it never completely knitted.

I'd much rather have Dad around today, possible health problems notwithstanding, than not have him. But knowing him, Dad probably would not have wanted to live his last years with ever-lessening capabilities.

Dad was a proud man, you see. He came from a dirt-poor background, and told me several times that he did things in his youth he was not proud of. But he felt he had to, to get money to help feed his younger three sisters and brother. Although he never said so, I've long suspected that Dad didn't really get much of a childhood. And what he'd had, he never would have settled for his children.

That's not any sort of indictment of his mother and father. It was just the way things were. Different time, different mores, different values.

Dad was a quiet man, too. Never said much. When he did, though, my sisters and I took note. Intently. He was short, about 5'6", but he was stout. All shoulders and chest. When I was about 16, maybe, I had a pretty good mouth on me. One particular day, Mom and I had been having words. When Dad got home from work, she'd apparently talked to him. So, when Mom said something to me and I answered -- to this day, I don't remember what it was -- Dad was primed. As I walked by, he reached out with one hand, grabbed me by the shirt collar, lifted me off the floor and held me against the wall. I was just under six feet and probably 135 pounds.

"What did you say?" he asked.

I can't tell you what I replied as his eyes burned into mine. However, I can tell you what I thought -- and this is it exactly -- "I'm gonna DIE!"

That was the last conflict we ever had. Dad taught me that day, that no matter how big I got or how feeble and shrunken my parents might grow, they'd always get my respect.

Dad taught me so much more, as well. Patience, for example. He loved to fish, and we went at every chance, up until I got interested in team sports. By that time, though, I'd learned to sit quietly and pay attention to things.

Dad could fix just about anything, too. He'd had to. Growing up in the Depression meant not having the luxury of buying a new whatever-it-was when the old one broke, or even being able to pay a repairman. I didn't realize it at the time, but all those years I spent as his gopher -- "Go get me a 5/16 wrench." "Which one's that?" "It's the one in the box." "I can't find it" ...and etc. -- I was learning. Watching Dad, I learned not to be intimidated by an unfamiliar task.

Dad taught me, as I like to say today, just enough about _____ to get myself in trouble. And just enough to get out again.

Dad was my hero. He was also my buddy, my advisor, my protector. At various times, I feared him, but I respected him, as well. Even when I thought he was being unfair or stubborn, I knew he was doing the best he could. And I loved him for that.

One of these days, don't know when, I'll get to see him again. Until then, I remember him on Fathers' Day, and thank the Lord Dad was in my life.

And maybe I'll just dance....

Media, I Have Faith in You

2011-05-22T23:50:00.003-05:00

My previous ramblings tried to put the recent failed doomsday predictions in humorous light. I had to. Too many things about them were just, well, laughable.

For example, my friend Barbie mentioned her minister saw an interviewer ask one of those rapture-prophets for all his money. You know, since the doomsayer obviously wouldn't need it. The man quickly changed the subject and was gone -- as in hauled arse gone. I don't care who you are, that there's funny.

Now, though, I want to be serious.

As a former journalist (newspaper reporter/editor/photog, depending on when and where), the coverage of this alleged "news event" bothers me. Number one is that it was waaay over-reported. The story deserved one, maybe twomentions in the "legitimate" news media; maybe not that many. I mean, the "prophet" that got the most press is a self-styled biblical expert who has made the same predictions again and again. I guess that means he's credible? Riiight.

What did the story receive? How 'bout two weeks worth of daily coverage? Wasn't that sorta like putting a pig on stilts, calling it a thoroughbred and running it in the Kentucky Derby?

For the most part, I've avoided discussing religion here in the Chronicles, largely because I see this blog as a fun thing. I'm not what some call a "Bible-pounder." I'm not one to hit others between the eyes with my spiritual beliefs, and I don't particularly want to deal with whatever controversy or criticism such discussion might spur. The whole coverage of that non-event, however, really irritated me. What chafed my behind most was how it treated Christians.

So, this is my blog, and I'm gonna talk about it. It's important.

If you haven't guessed, I'm a Christian. I also sin. A lot. No matter how hard I try not to. I'm also hypocrital, self-righteous, self-centered and selfish. I'm greedy, glutton-y, arrogant at times, lazy and sloth-like at other times. As Jimmy Carter once confessed, I have lusted in my heart -- more times than I can ever count. I'm not a Bible expert, nor do I pretend to be. I've not even read it through, although I did listen to it on CD once. Took me a whole year.

In short, I'm all theses thing, and less. As far as I know, all Christians are. We try to do right, but we constantly fail. Jesus established His church for us. And thank God He did! Churches are filled with us sinners.

Why do I bring this up? Because in reading, listening to and watching the circus that this "event's" coverage became, it seemed to me that it quickly evolved from amusing, to ridicule, to indictment. As the designated day approached, it seemed too many reporters assumed a subtle attitude that told their audience, "Those damn crazy Christians are at it again, the right-wing nuts." In other words, the coverage seemed to shift intent and direction.

Before my media friends get their bowels in an uproar, no, I cannot cite specifics. I don't remember any. But I do remember on several occasions sensing subtle reporter hostility. If you closely watch those who communicate for a living, or focus on their words, you soon realize that just a small gesture, slight expression change, or the choice of one word over another can have a massive effect. It can slant a story. We see it all the time on TV, because visual clues are easier to detect than written. A slight smile here, a raised eyebrow there....

I'm not saying that all newspeople intentionally slant their information. Time demands, unconscious peer influence, workplace attitude all enter into it. But I have known, and know still, several reporters guilty of it. And of these, there were more than a couple who were recognized and honored for their "professionalism."

I submit such behavior is prejudicial. You don't see TV reporters smirk when reporting aberrant Mideast (read Moslem terrorist) behavior. Over time, such clues build an impression with the public that all Christians are Republicans, judgemental pharisees and spend their time looking under rocks for others' sins. Come to think of it, that's sorta like political and investigative reporters, except for the Republican part.... (Oops. I'm being judgemental. What did I tell you about Christians falling short? I'm an example.)

The rapture myth that's been sold to the public is non-Biblical, and the majority of mainstream Christians don't even give it a thought. You wouldn't know that from most of what you saw or read in the past week or two. That fallacy wasn't even addressed until late in the game.

What happened? I think a certain number of the media are, perhaps not just anti-Christian, but anti-religion. And although they may truly pride themselves on their objectivity, they never are truly bias-free. That perhaps is more apparent when they deal with Christian and religious topics, because anti-religious sentiment seems on the rise in our nation.

I don't want the news media promoting my version of Christianity, or even religion. I don't want to force my faith on anyone. My role is just to live a Christian life and let that speak for me. I'd like my media friends, however, to be honest with themselves and to recognize their prejudices, as we all should. We all have biases. We're human. I want the nation's newspeople to stop painting those of faith all with the same brush.

I want members of the media, at all levels, really to think about their responsibility to, not only to their audiences, but those about whom they write. I want them to consider the consequences of what they say and how they say it. Most do. But not all.

I want media "stars" to reconnect with the average person. They're above it all. Some of them have no reason to feel justified and infallible, and I want them to take greater responsibility. Almost every reporter I've ever met sees him/herself as a servant of the public. I want them to start acting like one. They can do it!

Then, maybe we all can just dance....

Read This While You Still Can!

2011-05-20T12:38:00.013-05:00

Several things about the End of the World, which some say will be here soon (read, "tomorrow")....

For starters, none of the self-proclaimed "experts" and "prophets" seem to agree on just when the Great Creator is gonna pull the plug. I cannot begin to tell you how many nutcases have predicted the End of Times, Judgement Day, Doomsday, etc.

The latest "prediction," if you wanna call it that, is either tomorrow, May 21, 2011, or Dec. 12, 2012. Both dates are based on the Mayan calendar, which I understand ended every 50 years.

Hmh.... There's something odd about basing a doomsday scenario on the calendar of a long-gone civilization. Especially one that saw the end of the world occurring every half century, yet apparently still flourished hundreds of years. Perhaps that's not the most reliable basis for an accurate prediction. Ya think?

If Doomsday -- let's be clear, it's not the Rapture. The Rapture is the Christian Judgment Day. If Doomsday occurs Dec. 12, 2012, we have a whole year and two-thirds to get the biggest things emptied from our buckets. For my part, I'm gonna do my Christmas shopping early and celebrate the holiday Dec. 11. Plus, I might throw a Boll Weevil party to commemorate the day in 1919 when they raised a monument to the bug in Enterprise, AL. Either way, it'll be the first time in my life when I won't have a pile of holiday bills coming due in January.

For the purposes of this blog, though, let's say tomorrow is D-Day (Cue eerie music: wooOOH-weee-OOoooo....). Let me offer you some things you might be able to accomplish -- IF you hurry!

1. The first, obviously, is not paying your bills. As an addendum, you might wanna run up your VISA card as high as you can. In fact, run up every credit card you have!

2. Don't just empty all your bank accounts, cash in every CD, bond or anything else you can. And put the cash on your kitchen table at home.

3. Write enough rubber checks that you'll enter Eternity known as Mr. or Ms. Goodyear -- or at least, the Latex King/Queen.

4. Now's the perfect time to tell your boss what you REALLY think of him/her.

5. You know that neighbor's barking dog that keeps you awake all night every night? You won't get another opportunity to rent the biggest P.A. system you can find and blast "They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha Ha" into his bedroom all night long tonight.

6. Eat two hotdogs with everything just before you hit the gym this afternoon, then when Mr. or Ms. Lookdon'tyawishyouwereme shakes his/her glutes in your face, it won't take much to upchuck all over his/her biker shorts and designer cross-trainers.

7. Invite every relative, friend or casual acquaintance who has ever tried to involve you in Tupperware, Amway, Mary Kay or any other multilevel or pyramid marketing to Home-made Brownie Party. Make the icing out of Ex-Lax. Urge them to eat up; then send them home -- quickly.

8. Tell that person in your office with the chronically bad breath or B.O. to brush and take a shower.

9. If you happen to be at a bathing suit-appropriate venue and see that individual with the 50-gallon-capacity beer gut in a bikini or Speedo, now's the time to tell him/her exactly how much you admire their choice in beach/pool wear.

10. Rent a limo -- better yet, charter a plane -- and treat your main squeeze to the most expensive restaurant you can find. And tip like you own Fort Knox.

11. If you live in a large metropolitan area, take a Bugatti Veyron ($1.7 million list price) for a test spin. Don't return.

If, however, you're on the conservative side and are absolutely convinced we'll all pay for our excesses and extravagances in the afterlife, just hie yourself to the nearest church and meditate in your "final" hours.

I believe we can't know when the End will be. Therefore, please leave your door open and your liquor cabinet unlocked. And don't forget the cash.

...And maybe I'll be dancing there when you return!

Thanks, Mom!

2011-05-08T19:10:00.000-05:00

Mom, it's almost 6 p.m. on the downhill side of Mother's Day, and I just wanted to sneak in a few lines before I go work out.

We didn't get up early enough this morning to eat anything, so Wife didn't get breakfast in bed again this year. You'll be happy to know, however, we did make early service, and we stayed for bible study. And the church roof didn't even fall in! Afterward, the In-laws, Daughter and Son-in-law -- they've been married a year now -- and Wife and I all went out for lunch.

As I get older, I find that Sunday morning services become more important. And although I no longer have to run the rat-race, the renewal those couple of hours provide me one day a week really does help me make it through the other five.

Growing up, I know we didn't attend church, um, "religiously" as a family -- and too many of the times we did, it was a real hair-puller for you. I'm sure getting us three kids out of bed and out the door to make it on time, especially when we got to be teenagers, wasn't exactly how you preferred to begin your Sundays. But you never gave up, and I for one am glad you didn't. I had absolutely no thought of the trials we were putting you through those Sunday mornings, which I can see now were terribly stressful for you when they should have been the opposite.

And I look back and marvel at how patient you and Dad were to get us to church at all. I knew Dad's days off were Sunday and Monday, but it never registered with me that you actually only had one day a week together, and you were sacrificing a good part of it to help the three of us build our faiths.

I know you must have burnt a lot of prayers seeking the restraint not to strangle us before we got out the door. So I just want to say how much I appreciate your persistence in grounding us in that faith.

I wish I could have hugged you and Dad at Daughter's and Son-in-Law's wedding last year, and but circumstances didn't allow it. But I know you both saw how beautiful and loving a bride she made. And she is married to a fine young man. I know you like him.

Mom, you remember that Son and His Fiancee now are engaged, don't you? To a wonderful girl. Intelligent, loving and beautiful. He made a good choice -- or maybe she did, that's for them to decide, I guess. They haven't set a date yet, but I'm sure when they finally do tie the knot, that’ll be just as joyous and beautiful an occasion.

I couldn't let Mother's Day go by without letting you know just how much My Sisters and I truly appreciate the sacrifices you made for us. I'm ashamed we weren't better behaved and as cooperative and helpful as we should have been. And I want you to know that all those times when I was growing up that I was sure you were trying to make my life hell, I now know you were doing what you did out of unconditional love.

You’ve been gone more than eight years no, and Dad more than 20. I really miss you both, and at times if I could, I'd still pick your brains for advice. Many things have gone on that you've been unable to take part in, but I know that you've been a part of. I just wanted to express my appreciation and love to you this Mother's Day and let you know as best I can how thankful I am that you are my mother.

I won't wish you a Happy Mother's Day, because I know each and every of your days are infinitely happier than any I could wish for you. Keep watching us. If nothing else, we should be able to give you a good chuckle every so often.

I love you, Mom. One day, I hope to tell you in person again.

Until then, maybe I'll just dance....

An Open Letter to Apple: Dance with the Guy What Brung You

2011-05-07T12:03:00.001-05:00

Dear Mr. Apple, Ms. Macintosh, Mr. Jobs, et al:

I LOVE Apple products! I've been a staunch user and advocate 22 years. The first one I ever encountered was at work, a Macintosh IIci with a 16MHz Motorola 68030 CPU with 24 MB memory and 40MB hard drive. My first home computer was a Mac Quadra 610.

Today, I drive an iMac 2.8 GHz Core 2 Duo with 2 GB memory and a 300 GB hard drive. Admittedly, by current standards that's not a particularly hot machine, although it's more-than-fine for my needs. It is, however, waaay beyond what used to be.

At work, we slowly climbed the Mac product ladder as more effective models became available. After several years, though, office politicians replaced our department's Macs with Windows-based machines. Smart move, huh? I was sickened.

From the start, Apple's machines had been easy to use. Now, that's called "intuitive." To me, it was simply fun. But with PCs, what had been uncomplicated, single-keystroke tasks suddenly became more difficult to accomplish -- IF they could be done at all. It was asinine for us to lose our most effective tools just so some Mac-hater "boss" could build his little fiefdom.

But I digress....

From the beginning, Apple focused on the consumer. It took a highly complex machine that only a mathmetician could understand and made it so Joe the Plumber or Joe the Car Salesman or Joe the Teacher, or even Joe the Business Exec, could use it. And that leads us to here ==> X.

Too often in life, success breeds failure -- that is, when we reach our goals, we tend to become satisfied, lazy, arrogant, smug, maybe even feel entitled. And that's what's happening to Apple. You're forgetting "to dance with the guy what brung ya." More and more often, I see your company Microsoftizing itself. You're turning inward and working for each other instead of your user base.

(I despise that word, "user." Ughh! Images of some unshowered pimple-faced geek sitting at his computer in his underwear drooling over online porn. But I guess it's the best term we have currently....)

Back to my point: Your highly useful calender/appointments application iCal was released in '02. Immediately, we, your loyal customers, found its font sizes too small. And we had no way to adjust them. That was nine years ago, Folks, and you've done nothing to fix it!

The same goes for your excellent Mail, Address Book, iPhoto and iTunes applications. And the text in the Apple Store. We have no simple way adequately to adjust the size of the fonts in any of these areas. In fact, most of your native OS applications' inherent fonts cannot be adjusted. The "solutions" we're given -- preference options, universal access and changing screen resolution -- are impractical and troublesome, as well. We can't increase the size of the type in the OS menu bar, either. (We could in your earlier machines. PCs can.) We can change the font size in the Help function. Why can't we also do it in these other instances?

Now, these problems are not a major catastrophes. But let's put them in context:

We Baby Boomers are consuming your products at a greater rate than ever. We're quickly becoming computer literate, and we're also probably the ones who employ apps like iCal, and perhaps even, Address Book, more often. Because we're older, more settled, entrenched in our lives and have more to keep track of.

Through the years, your products have been superior, so we haven't minded that you generally have charged a premium for them. We figure you get what you pay for. But loyalty only goes so far.

Your employees in Cupertino undoubtedly are young and dynamic. They probably all can read itty-bitty type. An increasing number of us, your customers, cannot, however. We've learned from the younger generations, though; we communicate with one another, and we have long memories. We don't appreciate being blown off because we're older.

We, your loyal customers, are really disappointed that you have chosen to ignore things that seem trivial to you, but are quite important to us. We believe that customer service is a footing for long-term business success.

So, it just seems like the smart thing to do is to shift your focus a bit. I may be wrong, but it's probably more important that you cater some to your customers rather than wows your peers. If your clientele leaves, can your employees buy enough product to keep Apple afloat? We, your loyal customers, have simple wants. You're neglecting them. Don't you think it's smarter to "dance with the guy what brung you?"

Then, we'll be happy, and maybe we all can just dance....

Sincerely,
Scurvy McBeady,

It's about time!

2011-04-27T10:29:00.001-05:00

Let me begin by saying I am not a "birther."

In spite of their general left tilt, I believe our national news media sufficiently micro-examines presidential candidates. Perhaps with prompting from their few conservative members, the media would have reluctantly told us by now if Barak Obama was not constitutionally qualified to be president of the United States.

As of yet, they have not. Today, the White House finally released what has to be seen as the definitive document proving that the president indeed is U.S. citizen by birth. Case closed, he's qualified.

But is he "qualified?" Heck, no! He's the most inept president since Jimmy Carter (for whom, I confess, I voted and later regretted). But that' fodder for another time....

When I learned his people had released his Certificate of Live Birth, which shows he was born in Kapiolani Maternity & Gyn. Hospital in Hawaii, my first thought was, "What the heck took so long?"

The fact that the president has watched this controversy and until now only fought release of information speaks volumes. By his own admission, the question has been floating around for two-and-a-half years! You'd think that at least ONE of his advisors/handlers would have noticed that it had legs, as they say in spin circles, and was not gonna go away.

At this morning's announcement, however, he noted that he'd watched with "amusement" and was "puzzled" by the controversy. But why wouldn't people want to know, once the question was raised? Think about it. He was the first candidate for U.S. president -- at least in the modern era and maybe ever -- with strong blood ties to a foreign nation, and the first one who spent a significant part of his childhood outside the U.S. Why wouldn't we want to make sure he was constitutionally eligible?

Rather than addressing the issue head on, Mr. Obama danced around it, then later bowed up and refuse to produce any acceptable evidence. This morning, he called any interest in the question "silliness" for which we had no time. The whole thing was propagated, he indicated, by "sideshows and carnival barkers."

Granted, most people probably accepted that he was, indeed, legally eligible for the presidency. And he was right this morning: now, we can go on and deal with the nation's business. Still, the question had been raised, and it should have been answered definitively. Silliness? Perhaps, but not to a significant number or Americans who hold the Constitution sacred. We legitimately wanted to know.

His attitude toward the whole controversy was dismissive and arrogant. Even this morning, Mr. Obama's comments spotlighted his total disregard for people's concerns. His is a let-them-eat-cake mindset -- and his stubbornness regarding his citizenship questions has been an irresponsible waste of time, effort, and worse, taxpayers' money.

I had prayed after he was elected that Mr. Obama would grow into a competent and excellent president. That has not yet happened. He showed that at today's announcement. Once again, he showed us his nature: the typical two-bit pandering, ward-heeler Chicago politician.

Maybe he'll change. I hope so. We need a good president. But if he does not, I guess I'll just dance....

'Tis the Season....

2010-12-14T09:37:00.002-06:00

Deck us all with Boston Charlie!
Walla Walla Washington and Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Holler dollar cauliflower alleygaroo!
(To be sung with more gusto than tunefulness)

I wish I could take credit for these lyrics, but I can't. The late, great cartoonist Walt Kelley penned this fractured "Deck the Halls" decades ago in his comic strip, "Pogo." The "carol" is much longer, but I've never forgotten this first verse.

What does that have to do with anything? Nothing. I just like its silliness....

I've been thinking lately about our legacy. We have so many problems today: war, a crisis in national leadership, a weakening economy, a poor national self-image, dogs and cats living together...okay, so I borrowed that last from Bill Murray to lighten things up. But if you listen to the news or are a devotee of the Internet, it's all so darn dreary.

I have a T-shirt that asks, "Where are we going, and why are we in this handbasket?" I bought it as a joke, but really it's an example of the negativism that permeates our society. And we really need to change that. What better time to begin than at Christmas?

After being cut off in traffic by a bozo on a cell phone, perhaps waiting for 20 minutes because the person in front of you has 45 items in the 10-or-less line, or maybe being near-trampled in the wee hours of Black Friday, many of us might not be ready to buy into this peace on earth, goodwill toward men stuff. But we should. People are nicer during Christmastime. More charitable. Really.

Ever see Pay It Forward? It's not exactly the classic Christmas movie in the vein of The Christmas Story or Miracle on 34th Street.
But it's a perfect way to celebrate Christmas (or the "holidays," if you're afraid of the P.C. police). In the film, Trevor McKinney, Haley Joe Osment's character, figures out a system to help folk in need, with the condition they pass it on -- pay it forward. In the film, his legacy is that the idea takes off.

That same thing can happen in real life. Ever hear of needitkeepit.org? A Texas man has started a help-your-neighbor movement by putting dollar bills into envelopes and giving them away. His one request: if you don't need it, maybe add something to it and pass it along to someone who does. Both are wonderful ideas!

However, there are others. What if we, each of us, started being nicer to one another? This doesn't have to be complicated. What if we simply complimented the harried grump at the Post Office, or told the overworked grocery store cashier with the aching feet how much we appreciated what they do? Or let the driver go in front of us at rush hour rather than crowding forward so he and the 15 cars behind him are locked out?

Or what if we shrugged off instead of flipped off the knucklehead who just crossed three lanes without signaling? Ever heard the expression, "no harm, no foul?" It applies in life, too.

I gotta tell ya one more thing, then I'll stop.

Several years ago, The Wife and I were on vacation and went into a local craft beer place for lunch. As we ate, we overheard a subdued conversation at a table nearby. I don't remember what the young cashier was telling her friend. It wasn't my business, anyway. But I do remember the thing going on in her life had her distraught and she was not-very-successfully holding back tears.

I often carry a small, stamped aluminum cross in my pocket to remind me to be good. After the young woman rang up our bill, I quietly said to her, "This helps me. You take it."

And I put the cross in her hand. She looked at it and looked at me and thanked me. Then, we left.

I could have given her a stone, it didn't matter. I don't know how my gesture helped her, or if it did at all. I like to think so. But even if it didn't, the effort, simple as it was, was the important thing. Call it karma, call it vibes, call it God's will, blessings, civility, whatever you want. They say a journey begins with a single step. I believe that a single loving gesture can be a first step to helping others. And it leads to another, and another, and another, each easier than the one before. The destination is a better world.

Regardless of all the crap that weighs us down day after day, our legacy still can be positive. Provided we help each other with little gestures, random acts of kindness. All we need do is watch for and seize the chance to offer them.

We should begin now, at Christmas. After all, 'tis the season. So, "Deck us all with Boston Charlie! Walla Walla, etc."

And just maybe we can dance...happily!

Blessed Christmas!

Are You Listening, America?

2010-08-29T16:13:00.016-05:00

Until yesterday, I'd only heard of Glenn Beck in the most unflattering terms: a fear- and hate-mongerer and, my favorite, a racist.

Mr. Beck apparently is a commentator of some renown, or perhaps infamy. I try to avoid such media types; hardly ever listen to them. In my experience, they tend to value their own views very highly, and they generally seem to love their own voices. I'm painting with a broad brush here, but somehow they've become totally convinced their utterances are wisdom for the ages, and they're quite willing to share them with us.

(As you probably can tell, they're not all in the media. We all know one or two people whose views, in their own minds, are priceless.)

The Wife doesn't appreciate such commentators knowing just how to push my buttons. For some reason, she gets irritated when I talk back to the radio or moon the TV. So, I generally try to avoid such "pundits."

Nevertheless, yesterday I tuned in to C-Span's coverage of the "Restoring Honor" to America rally, mostly to see what the buzz was about. Depending on who did the counting, the gathering at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC, drew fewer than 100,000 to about 500,000 in support of turning the nation back to God.

Beck's organization billed the rally as apolitical and non-confrontational. As far as I could tell, it was. However, since yesterday was on the anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech, the rally apparently chafed several self-styled national black leaders and their apologists in the media. The most-esteemed Rev. Al Sharpton organized his own march nearby to "truly observe" (my quotation marks) the speech anniversary.

Sharpton and others, not all black, predicted the rally would be little more than an evil, hate-filled gathering of politically conservative racists. I don't know where they got their crystal balls, but I hope they were under warranty. The rally was just as Beck's organization had billed it: an effort to challenge the average U.S. citizen to get his/her own heart right and turn back to civility, honor, service, and God. The critics who prematurally trashed the rally charged that its timing was an attempt to "hijack" the civil rights movement.

When I heard that, I would have laughed my butt off -- except that they were serious. As Beck has put it, the movement no more "belongs" to one group of Americans than Abe Lincoln belongs to another. Apparently, King's niece, Dr. Alveda King, agrees. As the head of African-American Outreach for Priests for Life and founder of King for America, she spoke at the rally.

During the gathering, Beck honored several people of differing color for their selflessness, their charity and their commitment to service. And I don't recall any mention, negative or otherwise, of other organizations, gatherings or rallies. According to reports today, the day after the event, though that wasn't quite true for other gatherings.

I don't know what Glenn Beck has done in the past to create such animosity, and I don't much care. I am a staunch believer in free speech, even for those who spout what I consider tripe. I don't know if I am a fan of this guy or not. His faith and his commitment to it seem genuine enough.

What I do know is that yesterday, Beck urged you, me, the average U.S. citizen, to look beyond color, wealth, stature and return ourselves to honor. Do what God wants us to do, serve our brothers and sisters. Reestablish in each of our lives the values we have ignored or cast aside. Then, we can value our brothers and sisters.

Then, we can get together and fix was is broken in this nation of ours.

Beck, yesterday, hit a home run. God bless him! Let's see what happens now. Maybe, just maybe, this'll be the start of something really important to our nation. Maybe it won't. If not, well...

Maybe I'll just dance....

Here's Your Transparent Government....

2010-08-28T15:28:00.002-05:00

This is the guy who argued against a proposal in the Senate that every senator agree to read the bill BEFORE he/she voted on it. Now you know why....

I've been watching and listening and reading...and incidents like this are still a mystery to me!

Why won't our elected officials wake up? Are they all that stupid, or does the circus that is our nation's capital make them that way? Or worse yet, do they take us all for fools?

The only explanation I can see is that we keep electing the extremely arrogant. Only someone like that, it seems, could hide the vacuousness that pops out only after they're office?

Take the good senator from Montana, Max Baucus, in the clip above. Can you believe this guy? If you strip all the stumbling and backpedaling and fumbling around from his reply, what you get is, "No!" He didn't read the bill. What's more, he acted surprised that the lady who raised the question had the brass to even ask!

I believe even someone with the I.Q. of a potato would have the brains to ask his staff of "experts" to prepare a one-to-three-page summary of the law's contents. I'll bet even yet he doesn't know what's in it!

Now, I know, it may seem as if I am sharpshooting Mr. Baucus, especially if you're a yellow-dog Democrat, an Obama disciple, or perhaps even a Montanan. But I assure you, I have nothing against the good senator, except that he is a career politician. He's just a convenient example.

And you know what? You don't have to be on one side of the Obamacare question or the other to be, to borrow from Elmer Fudd, "vewwy, vewwy afwaid!" Baucus is far from the only shameless, even arrogant, ignoramus in Washington. For years, even decades, the Hallowed Halls of Congress has been infested with them. And that makes me vewwy, vewwy afwaid.

I'd bet my ol' dog Spot that Baucus ain't the only congressman who doesn't know the contents of legislation he/she supports. And that turkey about how impossible it is to personally read each and every bill that comes across one of 'em's desk just doesn't fly. For what do those folk think we send them to D.C? To play with their faces?

Contrary to what many of them come to believe, sex, drugs and rock'n'roll, plus exotic "fact-finding" junkets on John Q's dime, is NOT in their job descriptions. Knowing what's what, and what that might bring, IS their job! Are they doing it? Obviously, not well enough, if at all.

Our Founding Fathers wanted no part of government run by professional politicians. They envisioned a nation, literally, "by" and "of the People." Made up of common citizens elected by their peers who would gather at regular intervals, conduct the country's business; then, go home.

Many of this nation's founders, George Washington among them, believed professional officeholders (read "politicians") would bring about a ruling class. So, what do we have today?

We have sons and daughters of senators and congressmen, even state governors and others, all but inheriting public office from a parent. We have public officials who know nothing about working in a real, everyday job; who know nothing about earning a wage, making a mortgage payment, financing a car or paying for a child's college -- and doing it all WITHOUT help from special perks.

We have done this to ourselves! We the People are to blame for the incompetence. We the People put them into office based on how glib they are, how photogenic they are and based on promises they make. Promises, if we stop to think, we KNOW won't be kept! We the People put into our nation's top positions individuals such as these with whom I would not want my children to be friends.

And that, my brothers and sisters, is a vewwy, vewwy sad state of affaiws, indeed. May we begin changing that come November!

Or, maybe, we'll all just dance....

An Important Day!

2010-07-04T01:11:00.003-05:00

Stop celebrating the Fourth of July!

It's just another generic holiday. You know, an extra day off and a chance to party and set off fireworks that're illegal in more places than not. Celebrating the Fourth is like wishing someone "happy holidays" or "seasons greetings" instead of "merry Christmas." It has no meaning.

I'll bet a lot of folk don't even know why we observe the Fourth.

So, let's just throw out the date-name; don't use it any more. Let's call the holiday what it is: Independence Day! That, at least, says something! It reminds us that we're a free and independent people, not under the dominion of any other nation, confederation, kingdom, empire or political entity. And I believe we need that reminder more today than ever before.

You see, this may be the most dangerous time in our history. We have foreign enemies, some downright evil. We have serious internal difficulties. We have corruption among our leaders. And some would argue we have rampant incompetence at every level of government. They're all serious problems, granted. But as long as we the people remember why this nation was founded and what our Constitution really means to us, we'll be okay.

And that's what concerns me. I don't believe we the people remember, often don't even care. We keep electing the same self-aggrandizing leaders who are more worried about extending their time in office and leaving rich than in doing anything that actually might benefit the nation. We're so concerned with protecting an individual's ethnicity that we aren't passing democratic principles and traditions -- and responsibilities -- to our children. We're so focused on transferring wealth from the haves to the have-nots that we don't even consider the consequences of such actions.

So, we have a much more serious, more insidious, problem. It doesn't arise from our political, economic or ideological enemies. It's from us, we Americans. It's our apathy, our hopelessness, our lethargy, our irresponsibility, our lack of integrity, our immorality, even our lack of backbone.

We're reluctant to voice our opinions; to stand up for our beliefs. If by some miracle, we actually do speak up, we confront them and push our views up our opponents' noses and point our fingers pistol-like in a shrill blame game. It's such a wonderful example we're setting for those following us.

We want Uncle Sam to attend to our every desire. And if we don't get what we think we're entitled to, it's because we're victims of racism...or sexism...or homophobia, or whatever. Nothing unpleasant that happens to us may be even remotely due to something we may have done. (Yes, friends, that was sarcasm.)

Have we not learned anything from history? Apparently not. We don't seem to remember how lack of incentive melted the USSR's utopian promise into a stagnant, lifeless puddle? That's what redistributing the wealth can do.

Rather than resent some executive making "too big a salary," maybe we should aspire to achieving our own "too big a salary." If the guy is acting unethically or illegally, the law or God will get 'im. I, for one, don't feel I need to take his earnings for myself just because he has a big pile and I don't.

I don't believe our Founding Fathers saw government's role as the income police, a babysitter or adjudicator of every detail of private citizen business and life. I certainly don't think they saw the government as the Emily Post of political correctness. If Jefferson, Adams, Paine, Wythe, Morris (framers of the Declaration of Independence and Constitution of the United States) or Washington -- assuming they could wade through it -- came alive and read today's federal law, they'd probably laugh themselves back to death.

Our Founding Fathers did see, though, that Independence Day, July 4, was to be a very, very significant date in this nation's history. So, we must forever remember why we observe it and call it what it is:

Independence Day!

...Or maybe one day we won't be able to dance!

Now Comes the Fun Part!

2010-05-17T08:57:00.001-05:00

Three weeks ago today, our Only Daughter got married. It's taken this long for everything to sink in.

I thought I would have this big emotional upheaval, but it didn't happen. Sure, I was emotional at the wedding, but nothing like what I anticipated. The night before, it'd hit me that Only Daughter really was tying the knot -- and just walking her down the aisle during the rehearsal had been enough to break me down. I'd teared up and started sniffling and blowing my nose. Apparently, it'd been obvious enough that other members of the wedding party (including the pastor) had asked me repeatedly if I was going to be okay.

I was. You see, by the actual wedding day, I'd had a good talk with Myself, and we'd concluded that this was right. We'd realized that while I'd been looking the other way, Only Daughter had grown up, bought her own house and surreptitiously become a lovely young woman -- physically, mentally and spiritually -- right under my very nose. She'd become responsible, and now she was ready for the next stage of her life.

New Son-in-Law had been just as stealthy. One minute he'd been this grubby little boy that in her much younger days Only Daughter had described mostly with, "Eeeeeewww!" The next minute, he'd become this budding teenager who I was certain was set on the ruination of My Little Girl. Then, suddenly, with no warning, he'd transformed into this smart, hard-working, upstanding young man who actually had absorbed his parents' life lessons. Again, right under my very nose!

Myself had reminded me of all this, and I now knew their marriage would be right.

The wedding came off beautifully. Son-in-Law was handsome and self-assured in his wedding tuxedo (though I bet if truth be known, he was trembling like Jello inside). Daughter was bee-YOO-tee-ful, as I expected -- and true to her genes, she was the one who blubbered during the ceremony (though only a little). Mama of the Bride was positively beaming, as I'm sure was Mama of the Groom. Daddy of the Bride, me, I'm proud to say was composed, as was Daddy of the Groom. My eyes misted only once or twice, and just briefly. (During the walk down the aisle, however, I did have a little trouble when my grin nearly split my face in two.)

So now, all the trepidations and internal conflicts this Daddy of the Bride had are quieted. Mama of the Bride and I are very proud of Only Daughter, and equally proud of New Son-in-Law.

Marriage takes work to succeed, but it's so very worth it! We know Only Daughter and New Son-in-Law will have trials along the way, but nothing that their perseverance and love cannot overcome. And with God's help and with the support of their now-extended family, their life will be good.

And when all of life's stuff becomes too much to carry, well, they can alway set it aside for awhile and hold one another....

And then they can just dance!

My Daughter's Wedding

2010-04-20T23:41:00.001-05:00

My onliest daughter is getting married in four days.

The past eight-or-nine months have been a gradually increasing whirlwind of choosing colors, registering at this place or that, and organizing the who, what, where and when of the big event. Mr. VISA must be riverdancing for joy every time he sees a receipt for another pair of shoes or more flowers tossed onto the already mountain of purchases avalanching from the McBeady household.

And it all culminates in a 20 or 30-minute service this Saturday. So far, my father-of-the-bride strategy of laying low, avoiding eye contact and keeping moving has worked. (I notice Groom has adopted it, as well, though not with the panache my 30-plus years of marriage and fatherhood have granted me. "Ahh, but patience, Glasshopper. Your time rill come.") Mama of the Bride and Daughter have taken care of most things, and I have only been involved those few times I've been ambushed. I.e., Bride's Mama:

"Hope you enjoyed the steak tonight, Honey. By the way, doyoulikethepuceorthechartreusheelsbetter? Oh, and canyoubeadearandpickup16foldingtablesfromtheweddingrentalplaceonyourwayhome? Please, Sweetie?"

Me: "Huh? Wha? Um, I...I guess so...."

Those were rare instances, I must say, and mostly I managed to avoid being pulled into in that dreaded, dark world of "W-E-D-D-I-N-G P-L-L-A-A-A-N-N-N-N-I-N-G." But now, fate has caught up with me. I find myself faced with having to make the dreaded (with echo) "F-A-T-H-E-R O-F T-H-E B-R-R-I-I-I-D-E S-S-P-E-E-E-E-E-C-H-H!"

So, I've only just begun to give it a thought or two. I've been looking online for suggestions on the perfect Father-of-the-bride speech-slash-toast. I've concluded it doesn't exist.

Why? Because, no matter who you are, you still are the Bride's Daddy. She's about to wed the one man on earth who rivals Jesus in the perfection department, ever. But she is still Daddy's Little Girl. That nagging certainty buried deep in our little pea brains that says Groom is NOT GOOD ENOUGH for her will screw up our Father-of-the-Bride speech!

Nevertheless, I think I can do it! Especially if I am reinforced just a bit with the taste of the brewski....

Here's the plan: I'll welcome everyone to the joyous occasion, just as all the advisories recommend. I'll thank everyone involved in making Daughter and Groom's wedding celebration so special, just as they say you should. I'll make loving remarks and tell gently amusing anecdotes about the newlyweds. I'll welcome Groom to the family, tell him how very blessed he is and promise to love him and his bride and pray for them. I'll urge them to get on with some grandkids (I'm not gettin' any younger, you know.).

I'll probably throw in a few other comments here and there, as well, although I have yet to decide what they'll be. I'll thank Groom's parents for raising such a fine young man I'll be proud to call son-in-law, and I'll tell them how happy I am that we're now all family. I'll thank Mama of the Bride for hanging in when times were tough so that together we were able to raise such a fantastic daughter. Then, I'll toast their health, their happiness, their faith and their love.

I know I can do this; not because of the little taste of brewski. It'll be because I'll be wiping my eyes, sniffling and blowing my nose and trying to hold back the tears. Regardless, I'll be blubbering royally, there won't be a dry eye in the place, and no one will understand a single word I'm saying. So, no one will know when I screw up!

What a plan! It's undoubtedly foolproof! However, in the unlikely chance something does go wrong...

Maybe we can just dance....

A Dad's Advice, Good or Bad, Part 1

2010-03-13T13:17:00.002-06:00

My Children and my Children soon-to-be, this is my gift to you. I pray it blesses you as much as it has me in writing it.

In the past 12 months, all four of you (both couples) have made significant decisions and gotten engaged to wonderful partners. As a dad/dad-inlaw-to-be, I offer you the benefit of some of my experience. Sorta words of wisdom that, if you follow, will enrich your marital lives. Given your independent spirits, however, I figure you probably won't, but that's all right. Everyone must make his/her own mistakes. I'm confident you'll overcome yours.

Passing to you what I've learned serves two purposes for me. It's the chance to examine exactly what I really have learned, if anything, in the 35 years YourMotherMyLove and I have been married. Additionally, it makes me feel I've maybe added to your future happiness. Some of these things, I've practiced; some, I haven't as much as I should have.

YourMotherMyLove may have other views on some of this, and some of it you may already know. But that doesn't make it less valid. I do wish someone had offered me similar advice when I was young. As I counseled you, Son and Daughter, numerous times through the years, take the good parts of this advice and use them, and throw away the rest. Keep in mind, too, that "anything free is worth exactly what you pay for it." That goes for advice. So, here goes. Indulge me.

In no particular order, these are 20 things I want to tell you before you recite your vows:

1. If you have doubts or misgivings re your upcoming nuptials, now is the time to sort 'em out with your soon-to-be-lifelong partners. It's okay to be nervous. But if you're terrified, something may not be right. Remember, until the "I do," the "I'm not sure" is okay.

2. Marriage is forever. If you think, "Well, if it doesn't work, I can always get a divorce," You will be the main reason for your ultimate heartache and misery.

3. Unless you're living in a cardboard box on skid row, money is not a valid reason to put off starting a family. For such a life-altering decision, certainly you need to use the good sense God gave you. Unless you discover a way to make unlimited energy from toejam and bellybutton lint, however, odds are against you ever being rich. So, if you want children, have them. If you wait for the perfect time moneywise, kids never will happen.

4. Speaking of money.... It's true that the buck is the main cause of many, many husband/wife fights. I suggest you and your intended begin talking yesterday about how you handle the family finances. No single approach is the best. YourMotherMyLove and I share a single checkbook; all our accounts are joint; we have no secrets. However, every couple is different. You all must find what works for you.

5. Daughters, no matter how close you and your husbands-to-be are, emotions are usually not one of a man's strengths. Telling him "You should have known" is not really fair. The majority of men lack that talent; we can only guess at what you're thinking. "You should have known" from your lips becomes "You should have read my mind" in his ears. Daughters, be specific with your man -- and be assured that, no matter what, he loves you more than anything.

6. Sons, your wives-to-be are beautiful, intelligent and loving. Cherish them for those virtues. Like most women, they think/act from their hearts first. Detached logic generally is not a consideration. So, be patient when what you think is common-sense reason doesn't take, and you don't understand why. Value your wife for her differences. Give her time, and know that she loves you with her whole being, no matter what.

7. Talk about things. I realize not each of you is comfortable sitting down and discussing problems or concerns. However, good communication is a vital aspect of any relationship. So, all of you, work at it; don't be afraid to talk to your spouses at any time about anything, both positive and negative. The temporary discomfort a discussion may cause you is infinitely better than what no discussion may cause. And, believe me, it'll get easier the more you talk.

8. Do not leave feelings unexpressed and suppressed. They can blow up like a hand grenade and cause just as much pain. If any one of you screws up, neither you nor your spouse can be forgiven, or forgive, when you don't know what you've done.

9. Jealousy, true jealousy, the green-eyed monster kind, is an insidious emotion. It may start out as cute, endearing and a bit charming, maybe even seen as manifestation of your spouse's intense and "true" love. It quickly can go south, though, and become suspicious and destructive. One partner's unjustified insecurity in the other's love can morph into possessiveness, mistrust and hatefulness. Don't fall into this trap. If either you or your future mates lean toward jealous, you might want to start talking about it.

To be continued...

A Dad's Advice, Good or Bad, Part 2

2010-03-13T12:29:00.008-06:00

Here, Kids, as they say, is the rrrest of the story:

10. An admiring glance at the opposite sex is not the same as having an affair. Now, now if your spouse fawns over a hot member of the opposite sex and ignores you at a party, say, that's different. But don't anticipate it. Just lovingly deal with it if it arises. There are some awfully nice ways to ensure your spouse only has eyes for you. Use your imagination, and find them.

11. I have a card hanging on my office wall that says, "Unless it's fatal, it's no big deal." We could avoid a lot of needless unpleasantness if YourMotherMyLove and I always kept that in mind. Dirty socks on the living room floor or pantyhose on the shower rod are nothing compared to a spouses' health, for example. My advice to you is, don't sweat the small stuff.

12. I'll be blunt. Sex is very important in a marital relationship, both for the husband and the wife, though perhaps from different perspectives. Guys tend to be on the wham-bam-snore side of the ledger, while gals appreciate a more leisurely approach. We all know that. Less generally known is how differently guys and gals tend to view such intimacy. Again, talk to each other about your expectations.

I've read that men believe the physical sex act is evidence of their mates' love for them. On the other hand, I've read women are more likely to see view everyday interactions in their marital relationship as evidence of their husbands' love. I imagine both are at least partly true. So, Sons and Daughters, I urge you to consider your spouse's perspective and make adjustments in your, shall I say, "instinctual" tendencies re your sexual relationship.

13. As a corollary to that, guys often feel they must "perform" in bed. So, they put pressure on themselves. When that happens, sometimes certain things don't happen, if you catch my drift. Performance anxiety is self-centered, Guys. What happens, happens. It isn't the end of the world. Focus on her. You'll both benefit.

14. I believe too many couples today mistake hormone-driven lust for love. After the first rush of desire abates, whether it's six months or 20 years, modern couples often "fall out of love." As that tide of desire ebbs (sounds like a romance novel), I urge you all to make an effort to keep your romance alive. I've not done as good a job on that as I might have, but we've managed to keep our love warm. Maybe it's not as hot and nasty as it once was, but it's as hot and nasty once as it ever was.

15. When the sex runs its course -- it may never, but it might -- your best friend, soulmate, confidant and loving partner in life still will be by your side. Remember that, an, treasure him/her now in the small things.

16. Like love, conflict is a component of marriage. Two of you have seen YourMotherMyLove and I disagree pretty loudly over the years. Early on, we'd decided hiding or suppressing marital conflict was unhealthy. You'll surely experience similar conflicts in your marriages. My advice? Don't let your stubbornness and pride get in the way of your love. Don't be afraid to lose an argument once in a while. Don't think shutting up is defeat. (This, I need to work on!) Respect one another.

17. The preceding said, "For better or for worse" only goes so far when it comes to marital violence. Striking, abusing or afflicting your mate in any way must not be ignored. If it ever occurs, get help! It is unjustifiable and a symptom of deeper, dark problem. None of you must tolerate it -- ever!

18. YourMotherMyLove and I believe marriage is for life. We know love is caring for someone else more than for yourself. Honestly, I don't think anyone can do that 24/7, because we're all selfish creatures. I know I can't, but it's what I strive for. I can say truthfully that I've never once -- not once -- wished that I had not married YourMotherMyLove. No regrets. I wish you the same.

19. I'm sure you know marriage is not all hearts and flowers. Trite but true, marriage is hard work. Your mate is your love, whom you chose. Treasure him/her, and be positive. Spouses are human and make mistakes. But expect their best, and they'll seldom disappoint. After all, they love you!

20. Finally but most importantly, raising a family today is a daunting job. Waiting until children are "old enough" to bring God (or religion, spirituality or whatever you want to call it) into their lives is a dangerous gamble. YourMotherMyLove and I believe all children question their spiritual beliefs, raised in a spiritual home or not. Waiting until they can "decide for themselves" to introduce them to God may deprive them of a strong moral foundation. Please don't lock God in your marriage closet. (That's today's sermon....)

You know we wouldn't trade anything for you kids. You, Son and Daughter, are our dearest treasures. Son- and Daughter-inlaw-to-be, now your are, as well. By the same token, I wouldn't take all the money on earth for one fewer day with YourMotherMyLove. Does that make our marriage successful? I think so. I pray that in yours, the four of you are as blessed.

...Then, maybe we all can dance!

So Pronounceth Sir Elton

2010-02-20T01:15:00.001-06:00

According to Parade Magazine, Elton John believes Jesus was a homosexual.

That's too ridiculous an assertion to even comment on. Suffice it to say Ol' Elton has gone full circle: from just another unknown struggling musician to a talented and widely respected pop star, to an "outed" non-heterosexual rocker, to an aging caricature rehashing an old hit to trade on the death of a well-loved princess, to a crazy old twit trying to recapture his fame.

You go, Elton Sweetie. Say whatever you want. You're irrelevant. Nobody's listening.

But maybe you can just dance....

Sleep Well, Your Leaders Are On Guard

2010-01-30T21:32:00.001-06:00

This'll be relatively short and swee...um, relatively short.

I read something today that REEEALLY Ps me O. U.S. Sen. Orrin Hatch of Utah has written a letter urging President Obama to get involved in the momentous debate over a NCAA Div. 1 national football playoff system. Can you think of anything more assinine than that? (That was a rhetorical question. Of course you can. Politicians do stupider things than that on a daily basis. But, I digress....)

Do these United States really need Congress and the administration burning their time arguing a national playoff? I mean, c'mon! It's not as if they don't have anything more important to occupy themselves with. Can you say, "Economy? Taxes? National debt? Afghanistan? Iraq? Iran? Energy? Environment?" And closer to home, "Haiti?"

You remember, don't you, how the president all but promised during his campaign that he would do something about a football playoff once elected? And then, this evening, I read a short, breathlessly reported item about how he donned the earphones and did a short stint as a radio analyist at the Duke-Georgetown game earlier today (or was it last night, if that matters?).

That reassured me. With everything with which our nation is dealing right now, it's quite comforting to know just where our national chief executive's priorities lie.

Something just struck me: Sen. Hatch is a 33-year-Republican-veteran of the congressional wars. Maybe he's not as half-baked as I initially thought. Maybe he slyly brought the playoff debate to Obama's attention to distract him! Maybe the good senator thinks that If our president is wrestling with deep philosophical questions such as the need for a football playoff, then he's distracted from cramming a national health-care program down our throats, or redistributing our citizens' wealth, or nationalizing industry or any of those other things that is dangerously turning the U.S. toward socialism! Maybe that' it! Maybe Hatch is being Machiavellian! Maybe he's actually being a wily statesman! Maybe he....

Wait...NAAWWWW, that ain't it.

He is, after all, a politician. There are, of course, exceptions, but in my view, most of today's politicians don't have that many brain cells.

Ahh, well...maybe one day the Good Lord will send us a truly brilliant leader who has a firm moral foundation and his/her priorities in order, and that person will lead us into the meat of this century, and the USA will again earn respect and actually better our world.

Until then, we can always dance....

Chapt. 9.94.6: The Best Christmas Yet

2009-12-30T00:50:00.003-06:00

The Wife and I have only to take down the decorations, and Christmas 2009 will be over.

We probably won't do that right away, though, mainly because of laziness. Besides, I like having the house decorated. So, I figure mid-February or so would be about the right time. By then, we'll have the Christmas dinner dishes washed and put away, and the wrapping paper and ribbon picked up.

Actually, there wasn't much of any of that, 'cuz we're officially empty-nesters and didn't have to buy each other all the stuff we bought when the kids were home. The only wrapping paper we had was from the presents we went out a couple of times and bought for ourselves. I wrapped them up so we'd have something under the tree to open Christmas morning. I told The Wife that we simply would NOT become one of those couples who quit enjoying the holidays because the kids had left.

The Wife was really surprised when she found the snuggie from Wal-Mart that I'd taken off the hanger in her closet and gift wrapped.

So, what came next? Well, my one year and just-short-of-two-months into retirement is (are?) the first chance(s?) I've had since Christmas vacation in high school to watch as many bowl games as I want. And back then, there were only five -- the Rose, Sugar, Orange, Cotton and Sun bowls -- and they all, I believe, were played on New Year's Day. Now, there are 34 and many of 'em are great matchups!

The Wife, bless her heart, has been extremely tolerant and not said one disapproving word re all the football. Oh, once she almost hit me with half-eaten brat when I mumbled, "Uh-huh" in response to something she'd said about slacks, butt and fat. But I saw it coming out of the corner of my eye and ducked. She'd asked me just as the Hogs were driving for a TD! The next day, though, it only took a couple of hours to get the dried mustard and kraut off the wall. My cleanup efforts must have pleased her, because she seemed pretty happy when she got home from her lawyer's.

Seriously, both kids and their intendeds were home for the season and The Wife got to be Mom again and do for them and cook them all BIIIIIG meals. It was really pleasant. And Christmas Eve service at church always puts just the right topper on the tree. After all, Jesus is the reason for the season, regardless of what the P.C. crowd will try to get you to swallow.

Next year, I think we'll go to the Rockies and hole up Christmas week, just the two of us. I've wanted to do that for several years now, and I can't think of anybody I'd rather be there with than my best friend, the sexy wench, The Wife. (I hope she feels he same about me, 'cept for that "wench" part.)

Or if we can't go, I'll take some tango lessons -- and then, maybe, we can just dance....

I'm Getting Younger Every Day

2009-10-24T12:36:00.002-05:00

One of the websites I belong to asks what we would do if we won $100 million.

I know. First thing after I came to and changed my drawers, I'd go the E.R. to have my heart zapped back to normal. Then, I'd dance a major-league Happy Dance.

Then, I'd give half the money to my church and its schools; pay off the debts of our kids, my inlaws and my outlaws; then buy a log cabin in the Rockies. I'd immediately move in and get to wondering just howintheheck I'd won all that money when I didn't enter anything.

But, hey. it could happen...! We never know what the future holds, do we?

I mean, in 10 years, I may have written a tell-all book, or the ultimate crotch novel. Or even the ultimate tell-all crotch book! So if any of you ever has told me anything in confidence, get your alibis ready.

Almost as important, but maybe not, I hope in 10 years to be coherent, relatively speaking. When I was younger, I thought folks as old as I am now spent most of their time comparing operation scars, trying to remember where they left their keys and drooling on themselves. I was soooo completely...right. (Okay, okay. I'm kidding. I was wrong.)

Almost a year into retirement, I have more to do than I did when I was working. The difference is, it's varied, there's no pressure to do it, and I get to do what I want when I want for however long I want. And I hardly ever drool.

Moreover, I don't think I'll ever run out of little projects to finish, people to visit, experiences to have, places to see, politicians to complain about and stupidity to marvel over. I find myself a bit more romantic, as well, now that I have a little time to work myself up to it.

Some 25 to 30 books I haven't yet read await me on the shelves, and if I can ever find my reading glasses, I'll read a couple. We also have about 25 pounds of photos to be scanned, repaired/enhanced and printed or catalogued. That's somewhere near a good peck-basketful to you and me -- well, to me, at least.

I'd also like to learn Spanish, something more socially acceptable than the bar language I picked up in Puerto Rico (not that P.R. is a low place, but we former sailors cultivated friends in low places.). Also in 10 years, maybe I'll have finally grown up....Realistically, probably not. I'm really just a 15-year-old in baggy, wrinkled skin.

Patmywife tells me I'm closer to a 9-year-old and to zip up my fly. I think she just doesn't want to cut the breadcrusts off my PB&Js anymore. But she'll be sorry. I'm holding my breath 'til I turn blue....

Okay, I'm done. Can't hold it any more. Besides, In 10 years, I just may have learned to tango -- if I can still move.

Then, maybe, I'll just dance....

If You Can't Aggravate Your Loved Ones, Who Can You Aggravate?

2009-10-24T11:42:00.024-05:00

I love Patmywife.

Oh, we bicker and spat. Even yell occasionally. But no spitting, biting, kicking or hitting. And thank goodness for that! She'd probably kick me into the next county or pound me into mush. No need to, though. We're best friends. She's the only woman I've ever met that could put up with me.

She was born and raised on a small cattle operation, you see, and grew up dealing with bullheadedness. She's strong as an ox (oxette?) and very tolerant, loving and beautiful.

Early on, I made the conscious choice to put my family first. It was undoubtedly the best thing to do -- and I am dead certain it contributed to the lofty career heights to which I rose (he said, tongue planted firmly in cheek). Truthfully, I never made much money, but we never starved, either. And given how things have developed up to now, I am extremely rich!

We've been married since 1975 and have two grown kids, neither yet married. We're very proud of them. Except for a couple of minor incidents during their high school years (...They never DID get the VW out of that elevator....), they've been the true joys of our lives. And to think there was a time when I seriously considered not fathering any children. What a pessimist I was.

Of course, the two of them would give me much greater joy if they'd just follow all my advice. Patmywife says that wouldn't be good, 'cuz if they did everything I tell 'em, they'd just be younger pair of mes -- and the world can't take any more mes.
And who wants to live their childrens's lives anyway? I've had enough difficulty getting my own right. Let the kids muck their lives up themselves. I don't have the time.

So, maybe I'll just dance....

Sect. 29, Pt. B: Bottoms Up, Hey?

2009-10-22T00:27:00.013-05:00

I had just finished sending my son a virtual brew for his birthday (Happy 32nd, Keedo. We love ya!) when I stumbled across some beer-rating sites.

Out of curiousity, I looked up Cerveza India, an island-brewed "refreshment" I encountered when I was in the Navy in Puerto Rico, lo, those many years ago. The ratings for that beer were surprisingly positive. Either the brewers had improved the brand in the 40 years since I first tasted it, or they hadn't experienced the same drink I had.

When I was stationed on the Diamond of the Caribbean, I made a serious and committed effort to drink the island dry. (Thank the Lord my metabolism doesn't seem inclined toward alcohol addiction.) In two years there, I gulped down massive amounts of brews ranging from Pabst to Heineken to Busch to Schaefers to Lowenbrau, and so on. Plus, I drank about any kind of wine and hard liquor I could get my hands on, and enough cold duck to keep those little suckers wearing webbed booties for life. You name it. If it was available, I sucked it down. I was an amateur drunk trying to break into the pros.

During that whole time, I managed to get down only a can and a half of India. It was that bad.

Of the dozen or so comments I read tonight re the brand, only one approached the reality I experienced. The rater noted it was "hard to get down." To me, that was an understatement. It was nigh impossible!

Having said all that, I was a young kid trying to kill as many brain cells as I could in record time when I was hitting the bottle...or can...or glass...or bota bag...or stein, or etc. Plus, it's only fair to note that the tropical heat can quickly turn otherwise good libation into the most rot-gut stuff anyone ever guzzled -- and I'm certain the base package store and Enlisted Men's Club had their fair share of storage and acquisition problems back then. After all, it was the era of the $250 toilet seat (or whatever the gouge was). In other words, what we got on base in the form of liquid entertainment might not have been the most well-stored, -transported or -cared-for after it left the brewery.

And please note -- this is important:

This piece is not an effort to savage anyone's product. My experience with the brew was 40 years ago. Things change. A good characteristic of free enterprise is that there's a product for every taste, and a taste for almost every product. And, if a manufacturer survives, it's because it caters to the whims and demands of its clientele. Apparently, Cerveza India has done that over the years. Otherwise, it wouldn't be in business today.

I think the differences in the poles-apart perceptions I have, in this case of what a good brew is, and those of others is very interesting. Maybe someday, I'll be smart enough to find some deeper meaning there.

Or, maybe I'll just dance....

Episode 12-2/3: What's YOUR Favorite Line?

2009-07-18T19:35:00.023-05:00

I like movies, but I'm not what you would call an "day-vo-tay of la cin-eeh-maaw."

I don't expect movies to have any great social meaning or redeeming value, make a profound statement or illustrate some universal truth. And I don't give a rat's patootie whether or not Kevin Costner in "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" spoke with an authentic British accent. (I suspect that if a modern-day Briton, or any of us, met someone who spoke true 12th-century English, we wouldn't have a snowball's chance of understanding, anyway.)

I like movies for their entertainment value. Over the years, I've found them to be my mini-vacations from stress, responsibility and the normal pressures of life. Nothing more. That's one of the reasons I get so irritated by the sewage that Hollywood scriptwriters put into the mouths of their characters.

Now, don't misunderstand. I'm not a prude. I've slung my share of raw epithets. But do the people who make otherwise good flicks think that we won't watch if the F-word isn't bouncing around in their movies like a verbal ping-pong ball?

Take "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," for example. Steve Carell was pretty funny, as were his supporting actors. It wasn't a bad flick. In my mind, however, it could have been an excellent one. I've heard drunken sailors who didn't spout as much crap as the scriptwriters put in that dialogue. Do they actually BELIEVE that everyone talks like that?

Okay, wait....

Umph! There. I'm down off my soapbox now. Let's continue.

Some of us like campy trash flicks like "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes." Others like serious historical drama such as "Valkyrie" (which I Netflicked last night and loved) or "Schindler's List." Some us can't get enough gore in our films (If you're one of those, I worry about you.). Some of us like Laurel and Hardy, Harold Lloyd or the Marx Brothers.

My dad refused to go see anything other than westerns, war movies or gangster flicks. He just couldn't suspend his belief -- a requisite, they tell me -- enough to really enjoy any sort of fantasy or sci-fi. And he thought slapstick was infantile idiocy.

Mom, on the other hand, apparently loved infantile idiocy. I never realized until she was well into her 80s that Mom was a closet slapstickian . She was visiting us around the holidays several years ago, and I came home from a late evening meeting to find her in the rocking chair, glued to the tube. The Three Stooges were on, and she was chortling up a storm. Apparently, the Stooges had slapped and gouged their way into Mom's heart decades earlier, and when she found out they were on one of the cable channels at 11, she'd been surreptitiously tuning in after the rest of us went to bed.

Myself, I like a bit of everything -- except I hate slasher flicks. By contrast, though, I can really get into a good suspenseful horror movie, as long as it's not needlessly graphic. I like shoot-em-ups, sci-fi, fantasy, drama, even some classic p.i./spy flicks. But what I really enjoy are well-done satire and comedy, both slapstick and subtle. Different strokes, they say....

Now, I come to what I really sat down to write about: a poll of sorts.

We all have our favorite movies. Additionally, we all have movie lines that have stuck with us. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," from Rhett Butler in "Gone with the Wind," for example. Or, "I'll be back" from Schwarzenegger's terminator in "The Terminator."

My all-time favorite line is actually a short exchange between Professor Fate (Jack Lemmon) and Gen. Kuhster (the late George Macready) in "The Great Race". Disguised as a monk, Fate's henchman Max (Peter Falk) had helped hero, The Great Leslie (Tony Curtis), break out of a dungeon. So, Kuhster tells Fate.

Fate: "Escaped?"
Kuhster: "With a small friar."
Fate: "Leslie escaped with a chicken!?!?!?"

What I'd like to ask everyone who reads this is, "What is YOUR most absolute, all-time favoritist FUNNY movie line?" No overused stuff ("Here's looking at you, kid," "Life is like a box of chocolates," etc.).

I look forward to hearing from you. I think this could be fun.

Or, maybe we can just dance....

Act 3-1/8, Scene Y: On Being a Vet

2009-01-30T17:23:00.012-06:00

When I left the Navy in '73, I couldn't get out quickly enough. I was ready for a change. The service just wasn't for me.

On the plus side, six years had reinforced what my folks had preached about responsibility, and the Navy added to that. I became a man. (Don't smirk. It's true. This is a SERIOUS column.) Additionally, I met a lot of guys I felt -- still feel -- I could count on, if push came to shove. I saw much more of the world than almost all my childhood friends, and I had experiences they'll never duplicate. (I told you, no smirking!)

Moreover, the job security was great. Had I stayed in for 20 years and kept my nose clean, I'd have wanted for little. I may even have had a second career, possibly with the Uncle Sam -- and my current pile of retirement bucks undoubtedly would be bigger. (Wow, I just made the Navy sound really good! I almost want to re-up, 'cept that I'm waaaay too old -- you can smirk over the "re-up" part, if you want.)

In the end, though, the minus side overwhelmed the plus. My first three days in bootcamp convinced me that I would return to college. Later, though my job was more mechanical than the electronic rating I held, it was also more limited. Transistors and integrated circuits, harbingers of the computer age, lay in my path. And I really hated electronics. My Navy future, therefore, didn't look promising.

My family moved an unbelievable number of times during my childhood. I went to three different kindergartens, for cryin' out loud. (Of course, at 26, not all of these things ran through my mind. I just wanted out!) On some level, I think I knew the nomadic life wasn't for me.

The U.S. military was, and is, peopled with thousands of outstanding men and women. The very few incompetents (and one or two scumbags) I did encounter, however, made civilian life extremely attractive. I was certain that, shed of the military, I'd have an out I didn't otherwise, the Johnny Paycheck Option. That is, if what I'd be doing "in the real world" became unbearable, I'd just tell 'em to "Take This Job and Shove It!"

This may seem egotistical, but I just couldn't accept the real possibility that some incompetent petty idiot literally could hold the power of life or death over me. Of course, I've since found that civilian life has its warts, too -- especially as marriage, kids, a mortgage and other responsibilities creep into your life -- and the JPaycheck Option quickly vanishes.

Life has taught me that it takes a special sort of individual to make the military his or her life. It's not mine, but I admire my friends and others who have served, and I thank God they did!

Most what follows here is from a career Navy friend of mine, with whom I've recently regained contact. I think he sent this particular message to me because I recently retired, but he sent it to others, as well. It offers much insight, whether we're a one-hitch vet, a "lifer" or have never been in the military. I've edited it a bit for style, brevity, etc., mostly because, as a former editor, I can't help myself. Here it is:

* * *
When a veteran leaves the "job" and retires, some of his friends may be jealous, some pleased and some may wonder if he knows what he is leaving behind. Those of us already retired, do.

We know, for example, that after a lifetime, the camaraderie that few experience will stay with us as a longing for those past times. We know the military life is a fellowship that lasts long after we've hung our uniforms in the back of the closet. And even if we throw them away, we'll wear those uniforms with every step and every breath that remain in our lives.

We also know how the very bearing of the man speaks of what he was, and in his heart still is.

Conversely, these are the burdens of the job:

Veterans still look at people critically and see what others either don't see or choose to ignore -- and we'll always look at members of the military world with respect for what they do, because we know.

"Lifers" have a lifetime of knowing. Never think for one moment a vet escapes from that life. We merely escape the job, leaving active duty.

So what I wish for you is, whenever you ease into retirement, in your heart you never forget for one moment that you are still a member of the greatest fraternity the world has ever known.

* * *
I've thanked my career veteran friend for sending this little essay. It hits the bullseye for me. I hope you got something out of it, too.

If not, well, maybe we can just dance....

Act IV - Just Who Do You Think You ARE?

2008-11-18T10:34:00.016-06:00

I'm a real success, I am.

In 1967 -- I had begun college two years previously -- I switched my major from Pre-Dental to WineWomen&Song. Wise move. I flunked out. Vietnam was heating up, and I'd lost my student deferment. I had disppointed my parents. I needed to straighten up.

Every male I knew who was eligible for the draft fled to the National Guard, Air Force, Coast Guard (although in those days, coasts to guard were pretty sparse around Kansas City) and the Navy. Dad knew the local Navy recruiter and as a "favor," he "squeezed me in" under the 120-day delay plan.

So, I had three months in which to practice my college major without the pressures of formal classes. Studying was a breeze. Being the altruist I was, I served my fellow citizens during that time by contributing to their financial well being by supporting every 3.2 beer bar in Kansas City, KS, that I could find.

Then on Jan.4, 1968, my studies were interrupted. I reported to the Selective Service office for induction. They tested us, physicaled us and swore us in. Then, I took my first airplane ride, to the U.S. Navy Recruit Training Center, San Diego. Three days later, incidentally, the mailman delivered my draft notice to my parent's house.

For more than a year, Uncle Sam taught me disipline, initiative and seamanship, among other things, in boot camp -- and educated me in electronics in tech schools. Then, he sent me to a communication station outside San Juan, Puerto Rico. I quickly applied all I had learned up to then, especially the seamanship.

I discovered how inexpensive the booze was at the base Enlisted Men's Club, the best ways to remain upright when partying for days on end, and found the best places in Old San Juan for alcohol-fueled benders. Let's see...oh, yeah. I worked some, too, largely repairing teletype. I was the best TTY man on the island. Really had 'em snowed.

And there, I applied my seamanship. Five other guys and I chartered a small fishing boat one day and went deep-sea fishing eight miles out in the Caribbean. In all my time in the Navy, I NEVER got seasick. Okay, that once I did feel pretty queazy most of the day... Okay, REAL queazy. But I never hurled! (Also, in all my time in the Navy, that was the closest I got to going to sea. But that wasn't MY fault!)

During my enlistment, I spent anywhere from five weeks to six months, depending on my orders, in Norfolk, VA; Washington, DC; Winter Harbor, ME; Nicosia, Cyprus (Twice. I really liked it there); Rota, Spain; Bremerhaven, Germany; and Edzell, Scotland (I LOVED it there!). Also I experienced short visits to London, Paris, Rome, Frankfurt, Athens, Lucerne and Amsterdam.

I made some lifelong friends and had some memorable, if not exactly wonderful, experiences. I also got some great stories to tell; one of these days, I may use them in a book. You couldn't get me back in the Navy, though, if they gave me an aircraft carrier!

Then, in '73, having sown almost all the wild oats in my possession and given myself more-than-ample opportunity to become a full-blown alcoholic, I left Uncle Sam's service. Early, for school. Two years later, 10 years after high school, I earned my bachelor's degree at Central Missouri State University. There, I met tolerant and loving Patmywife of 33-plus years. She was so shy, so quiet, so sweet. I've often wondered what changed her....

In 1976, I fulfilled my mom and dad's dream when I earned a master's degree from The American University in Washington, DC. After that, Patmywife and I returned to the Midlands, where I eagerly jumped into the newspaper business. Two degrees in hand, I secured an editorship at a small family-owned newspaper in Missouri, earning a princely sum ... of peanuts. I've toiled since then in newspapers and in public relations. The peanuts are more abundant in the latter, but not THAT abundant.

Now, since Nov. 1, 2008 I am retired, and LOVING it! Unless you've had to feed the big paper beast, you can't know just how wonderful it is not to have deadlines. I think I'm gonna like being a sofa slug!

But maybe I'll just dance....

Prologue: A man of leisure? Riiiiight....

2008-11-17T11:32:00.009-06:00

That's it, Gang. As of Nov. 1, I am officially retired; an ol' fart out to pasture; a used-up, burnt-out old fool with nothing significant to contribute to society.

Or at least that's what several of the young, ambitious, committed-to-no one-or-nothing-but-him/herself hot shots at the old job apparently think. Certainly, in their eyes, the company for which I toiled for 29-plus years is now shed of one more splinter of dead wood (a debate for another time).

I'm just another old geezer sitting in my recliner with nothing to do but watch Oprah and listen to my arteries clog.

HAH!

Are you kidding?!

I cannot BEGIN to express how nice it is not to worry about deadlines. Reptilian and demonic, they've been lined up behind me to one degree or another for some 44 years as I've struggled with whatever current task I've had. They jostled and clamored over one another for the next opportunity to sink their teeth into my forehead. They never relaxed that bite, either, until I had offered up sufficient of my sweetmeats to sate their hunger.

Moreover, even before I could force one deadline from my back, another would pounce and start pulling at my gut. Then, I'd immediately have to begin gathering enough of my labors' fruits to satisfy this next one, too. Constantly, I felt their endless writhing queue behind me.

Early on, deadlines were infrequent visitors. One would just sort of saunter up and lull me into procrastination.

"Don't mind me," it would purr. "You have plenty of time."

Then, as days shrank to hours shrank to minutes, the deadline would whisper over my shoulder.

"Time's passing," it would hiss insistently. Then with an oily smile, "But you work best under pressure. Plenty of time."

Before long, the demon took to pounding the back of my eyes, clawing my stomach and screeching, "Move it, Jerk. Look at the clock. You better get your ass in gear!"

At the same time, coworkers, bosses, friends would drop by smiling and add their demands to the deadline's growing weight. That's when beads of blood would dot my forehead as I strained to come up with that perfect sentence, best approach or most appropriate action. And not a single deadline would care if those added distractions had joined them on my shoulders and clamored for attention. In fact, the devilish deadlines had seemed to invite them.

Moreover, the current deadline would remain, claws lodged between my shoulderblades, forcing, ordering, pushing me into panic. I did, too. Often.

Maybe I've exaggerated my relief a bit. Nevertheless, the deadline horde now finally has turned to someone else: my successor (lucky him). I don't have to feed it any more.

Now, I can rise whenever I want (I choose 5:30 or 6 a.m.), shave and shower whenever I want ( shower daily, shave most days), grow a ponytail if I choose (gawd, I DON'T!), and be as active as I please.

Oh. And I plan to get after all those little hunnydoos, many of which I've neglected for years, that insist on scurrying around our house. There goes one now! STOMP! Got 'im.

Hmm....

Maybe, instead, I'll learn to dance....

Chapter XXXVIII - Send in the Clones

2008-10-08T23:45:00.003-05:00

As Gladys Knight and her Pips sang, lo, those many years ago, we're gettin' "right down to the real nitty gritty," folks.

Only 24 days left until retirement! I don't want to seem anxious or anything, but I AM READY!!! I've had to meet deadlines for, let's see, 44 years or so, and I'll be happier than a puppy in a roomful of rubber balls not to have to worry about them anymore.

Of course, some people think that when one retires, one stops any sort of activity whatsoever, shrivels up and then dies. In my humble opinion, those are the individuals who live to work rather than work to live. Most of my career, I have enjoyed what I have done for a living, but generally I am a work-to-liver. Early on, I was a work-to-appendix, then a work-to-gall-bladder, but after a time I got promoted....

My friend James says he'll never retire; he couldn't stand doing nothing all day. I tell him I probably won't be able to stand doing nothing all day, too, but I'm certainly open minded and willing to give it a try -- at least for a couple of weeks or until Patmywife gets fed up with having to vacuum me off the furniture every second Thursday and flyswatters me into moving from the recliner to the sofa. Whichever comes first. Plus, I tell James, I'm not retiring just so I'll never have to move another muscle again. I'm retiring to focus my muscle movement on other things.

I want to write the Great American Novel, or if not that, perhaps the mediocre Norwegian crotch book. I want to pass along to young people my vast storehouse of experience in ways NOT to do things. I want to learn to speak Spanish that's at least a little more acceptable for polite company than what I picked up in the clubs in Old San Juan. I want to make love under the palms among the sand fleas on the beach in Isla Roatan -- preferably to Patmywife.

Or, maybe we can just dance....

Chapter VIII-4/5: Thinking about the R-word

2008-07-09T22:04:00.002-05:00

Pat (my wife) and I have been talking about retirement for probably 10 or 11 years.

We've cussed, discussed, dressed, addressed and undressed all sorts of plans for what we do or do not want to do when we lock our office doors -- or in her case, vacate the cubicle -- for the last time and shuffle off into geezerhood. We had created a pretty definite set of wanna-dos we planned to pursue in retirement.

Then, about three years ago, it hit me: We were making all these plans and had absolutely no earthly idea if they were doable! So we went seeking some help. A financial advisor is what we needed! Someone who could wave his or her magic wand and make some of the uncertainty vanish!

We called what was then, if I remember correctly, American Express Financial. It had been the company that managed our 401-k at work and had seemed to have done a pretty good job. They assigned us a 23 or 24-year-old kid, well-intentioned and smart enough, but still wet behind the years. Patmywife laid back her ears, hissed loudly at him and glared. I could tell right away she didn't think much of him.

He ran away. Not right away, but by our scheduled third meeting. The financial company wanted to assign us another kid, but we held out for an advisor almost as close to geezerhood as us. We did the right thing. At least, it feels right so far.

But if the wheels come off. we can always dance....

Chapter VI-7/8

2008-06-30T21:38:00.007-05:00

I was born a poor black child....

Yeah, yeah, hold on, hold on! I know I'm not black, but if it was good beginning for Navin P. Johnson ("The Jerk"), it's good enough for me.
Besides, I'm black under my fingernails. That counts for something, doesn't it? And I was born poor--and a child.

Ahh, but let's not quibble. This is my very first blog, and I need to get on with it. After all, I'm a busy, busy man, and I have stuff to do: like wax the cat, and change the oil in Uncle Harry.

I've been thinking about doing some writing for sometime now, 30 years or so. But I've always been too busy or lazy, or had something else going on, or been too lazy, or the time just wasn't right, or I was too lazy.... You get the picture. I've always said I would one day write about all the things that have happened to me, and all my memories.

Last year, I had a milestone birthday, and day before yesterday, it hit me: My senior moments are off daylight saving time now. Just how am I gonna write about all those things when I can't remember that for which I just came into this room?

So, I thought I'd better get to hustling. Thus, this blog.

It may develop into the rantings of a madman, the ramblings of a dribbling ol' codger, or the profound revelations of a modern mental wizard (although my money's on NOT the wizard). Who knows? Anyway, here goes.

Whatever this becomes, I'm gonna have a good time with it--and maybe you who are bored enough to have searched long enough to have stumbled upon this blog, and I, will have an occasional meaningful interchange.

Then again, we can always dance....