Friday, June 29, 2012
A friend of my daughter, a soldier, a hero...was killed last week in Afganistan. Thought it might be a good time to take a moment---- How long is a moment? Sometimes it’s all the time you need. Sometimes...it’s all the time you get. My father could register his displeasure with me...in just a moment. When I first met her, all it took was a moment for me to know that I wanted to know more about this woman who was to become my wife. And all it took was a moment for me to know that I really didn’t like lima beans. Sometimes a moment is all you need. But sometimes a moment is all you get. That moment...that opportunity to tell someone you love them can pass all to quickly. Lost forever. That moment...that one chance to take a road less traveled can be gone in the blink of an eye. Never to come again. Looking back...it seems my children grew up...in a moment. Seize your moments. Live your moments. Everyday is filled with wee pieces of time...chances...opportunities...that only come once. How long is a moment? Sometimes it’s all the time you need. Sometimes it’s all the time you get.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Over the years there have been many profound questions asked through song. And every once in a while I find myself lying awake at night wondering…did those questioning souls ever find any answers? Were they really going to Scarborough Faire and if they were, did they remember him to one who lives there? Where was Joe going with that gun in his hand? Is love really all you need? Did that poor child ever find someone to help her make it through the night? Must there only be fifty ways to leave your lover? Was there ever a decision made about who will stop the rain? Did that girl ever get directions to San Jose? Did they have to take the long way home? And when those four guys needed someone…did they ever get any help? Did that lady find a way to live without you? Did anyone ever figure out where the broken hearts do go or who really wrote the book of love? And there’s one I’ve wondered about for years. Who did put the Bop in the Bop She Bop She Bop? Who was that man?
Friday, June 22, 2012
I wrote this a few years ago, but I was reminded of it this morning. So, this is dedicated to the classy guy in the Porche and the lady on the phone in the Range Rover...I met some really important people the other day. Well, I can’t actually say I met them, but I did watch them as they sailed by a bunch of us good citizens waiting our turn in one of those lane ends construction areas. You know...you see one of those lane ends up ahead signs and you pull over and wait your turn to go through like everybody else...except the really important people. I mean they must be really important...because they can’t wait in line like the rest of us. They go right to the front and force their way in. I figure they do this because they have much more important places to go and much more important people to see than the rest of us. Their time must be much more valuable than ours. Yep...that must be what it is. I mean...you don’t think they could just be arrogant, thoughtless and rude do you? Nooo...they can’t just be inconsiderate jerks...can they? They must be much more important than you and I. I must confess to being a very bad person though. Because when I finally do get to the front of the line and there’s a very important person trying to get in front of me...I don’t let ‘em in. Screw ‘em. Terrible aren’t I?
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
We humans suffer some pretty incredible indignities on our animal friends don’t we? There’s the famous, “Watch how long we make the dog sit there with the biscuit on his nose before we let him eat it” routine. We think that’s so cute. Wonder what the dog thinks? We dress monkeys up in doll clothes. We make bears wrestle folks at county fairs without eating them. Not fair in my book. We make horses dance. We call it Dressage so it sounds French and fancy. It’s dancing. We put leashes on cats! Talk about indignities. But here’s one I’ve never seen before. I saw him as I was driving home last night. The poor, little squirrel guy never made it to his meeting on the other side of the road. His little squirrel hopes and dreams ended about half way across. Now, that was bad enough, but to add insult to…well, it’s not injury it’s…death, there was a road crew spraying brand new yellow stripes down the middle of the road. There is now a brand new yellow road stripe running up the back of that smooshed little critter. They didn’t even bother to kick that little guy to the side of the road, they just painted right over him. You know, most of the time the indignity ends at some point and the dog gets to eat the biscuit or the bear gets to eat the person. Yellow road stripes however, are made to last for a long, long time.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
I watched a baseball game last night on TV. And I guess I’ve just never noticed it before, but I had no idea there were so many ways…to spit. Seriously. And everyone was doing it. The players were spitting…the coaches were spitting…the managers were hawking loogies…the batboys…the ballboys…saliva sailin’ everywhere I looked. There couldn’t have been a dry spot left on the field or in the dugout. No wonder even the coaches wear spikes. It was a sight that…really didn’t need to be seen. I must admit though, there was a certain amount of…well…personal style being displayed. The shortstop’s upper lip curl…the left fielder’s between the teeth squirt…the designated hitter’s machine gun repeater…the dribble… although I think that last one was just a youngster making a rookie mistake. You know, a good, slippery, pro style sidewinder gone wrong. So, there’s another game tonight. Has anybody seen my boots?
Monday, June 11, 2012
So, I hear you’re back in town. You haven’t crossed my mind in years, but now I hear you’re back. Curious. I remember our first…hmmm…how should I put this…encounter? Yeah…encounter. A serious situation always calls for serious word usage. What was I…3 maybe 4…when I first became aware of your nightly presence? Sometimes under the bed…sometimes in the closet…always pretty spooky. Never really saw you, but I knew you were there…waiting. The rules were pretty clear though. No feet or hands hanging over the edge of the bed. I wasn’t going to give you the chance to grab any of my kid parts buster! And as long as the covers were over my head…I was safe. Covers made the bed “Under the Bed and Closet Monster” proof. No quite sure how that worked, but thank God it did. I’m sure millions of children have been saved by the “Covers” rule. You went away for quite a while, but returned to your usual hiding places when my own kids were little. Forcing me once again to invoke the “Covers” rule and nightly “Under the Bed and Closet Monster” reconnaissance patrols. And now you’re back once again. This time you’re trying to mess with my grandkids. So, let’s get something very, very clear here Bud. The “Covers” rule and nightly “Under the Bed and Closet Monster” reconnaissance patrols are still very much in place. This time though there is something else you should be very aware of and I want you to ask yourself this…punk. Are you feeling lucky? Because this time…you’re messing with a Grandpa!
Friday, June 8, 2012
Some words carry more weight for me than others. These heavy words tend to touch me more deeply…make me think a little harder…make me feel things that quite honestly…sometimes…I don’t necessarily want to feel. Some can raise me up…some can take me down. Some can bring a smile…some can bring a tear. Cancer is a heavy word. As is Vietnam. Truth and Faith can both be heavy. Someday can carry a lot of weight because it can hold so much Promise…and Promise…don’t we all know… can be one of the heaviest words we ever speak. Never and Forever should probably weigh more than they usually do. And Love should never fall off our lips lightly because it carries so much Responsibility… and Responsibility could be some of the heaviest lifting we will ever do. Some words carry more weight for me than others. I think that’s how it should be though. It makes it a lot tougher to throw them around.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
I wrote this quite a while ago. I drove down the old neighborhood street the other day though and I noticed the house on the corner was for sale. This is for the old man who lived across the street...and his friends.---- From a distance he looks like a stick standing upright. A stick that time has bent, crooked and twisted. He lives alone in the house on the corner across the street. Well, not really alone. His two small dogs have kept him company for as long as we’ve lived here. They follow him wherever he goes and yap at anyone who happens to walk by. And he would yell at them in a scratchy old voice. “Tina…Eddy…get the hell back here”. When he would get into his banged up old car and drive away to wherever little old men go in their banged up old cars, the little white dog would just bark until he would return. Well, the banged up old car isn’t in the driveway anymore. I guess he won’t be going to where little old men in their banged up old cars go anymore. And yesterday I noticed as he stood crooked and bent out in his front yard…there was only one little dog. As I turned to go back inside though I heard that scratchy old voice holler one more time. “Tina…get the hell back here”. Rest in peace Eddy. Rest in peace.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Now, if I could catch the young man who blew by me today doing about forty five in a twenty five mph school zone…I think I’d like to have a little conversation with him. A conversation about his responsibility...to me. Oh yeah. He definitely has a major responsibility to me. While we’re driving on the same streets, he’s responsible for doing his best to get me home safe and sound to my wife, my kids and my grandkids. That means he has to watch his speed. Now almost everyone likes to go fast now and then, but around me there better be a lot more “then”. It also means he should always use his turn signals so I know what the heck he’s going to do up ahead. And it means get in line and wait his turn in those construction slowdowns. Cutting me off to get in front of the line is not living up to his responsibility. It means save the phone conversation for later and the texting for the man cave couch. And please Sir, stay off my rear bumper. Give yourself some room to stop safely if that "nothing's going to happen"...happens. Mostly it means he has the responsibility to be aware that I’m on the road with him. And that I have a wife and kids and grandkids who I think would like me to be around for awhile. So, if I could catch the young man who blew by me today doing about forty five in a twenty five mph school zone...I think I’d like to have a little conversation with him about his responsibility...to me. And let him know I feel I have the same responsibility to him.