Category: Uncategorized

The only way I can much remember things is to kind of “hack in” to my memories. I can’t go directly there. I have to have something to “jog” the hacking process. I have to put in a query and wait for the old “hard drive” gray matter to eventually bubble it up to the surface. This process could take minutes, or sometimes days.

I ran across my old 1968 High School annual yesterday as I was putting up some photo albums and I flipped through the pages. I looked at some of the pictures and some of the things which people wrote in my book. I flipped past the page showing the “class favorites” and I paused a moment and reflected. As I remember, I always wanted to be “something” when I was in High School, but as it turns out I was pretty innocously anonymous. In the annals of mediocrity, I stood amongst the crowd lost in middle.

It mattered a lot to me then, but I really didn’t know how to be popular. I for sure wasn’t the smartest, the handsomest, the best dresser, the most atheletic, the most likely to succeed, the wittiest, or anything resembling any of those traits. I didn’t even vote for myself for any of these…to be honest, I don’t even know if it was a voting process. Can’t remember.

I think today about what matters from back then, and it seems to me that the memories of those days are the most important. I certainly have a lot of those, and if that’s the measurement, then I’m not doing to badly.

I remember a lot of things. Perhaps one of these days I can find the time to write them all down.

In hindsight, I don’t guess I would do much differently. I don’t think I could. I was what I was, and that’s all that I was. Age hasn’t changed me, except to ripen my flavor like an old crabapple which has dropped on the ground and lays there waiting for someone to pick it up.

As for Christmas presents, I have to say I have nothing left of any present I received as a child. Nothing physical anyway. I have vivid memories though of many wonderful things. An entire Hoppalong Cassidy outfit complete with guns when I was four. Oh yes I learned to shoot at an early age. A real Daisy BB Pistol at 8 years old. The front of it broke down and you could shoot one BB, pellet, or dart at a time. I’m ashamed now to admit it, but I once killed a sparrow with it. I was like Opie Taylor though, and cried. Then I went and buried it. I never shot another living thing with that gun. At 10 I got a Schwynn Bicycle, and learned to ride it quickly. I stayed around the streets close to home though. I ranged far from home at times, but usually on foot with a big stick in my hand or a baseball bat on my shoulder. At 11 years old, I got a reflective telescope which I never learned to use. Always every year, there were books, comics and classics. There were ball cards. At 12 years old a Lionel train. I remember all these things now so clearly, as I write if them. I could go on and on…My first record player at thirteen…but, it’s not the things, which are all now long gone which counted. My Dad helped me learn to ride my bike, and to shoot my gun. I remember the look of happiness in HIS eyes even now…just like it was yesterday. His laughter at my foibles and mistakes. That familiar laugh, so distinctive. It’s not the gifts. It never really was. I would bundle them all together, all of them I ever got just to hear that laugh once more. Christmas should be more about presence than presents, more about the giving of memories than the receiving of things which do not last. Christmas is what you receive in your heart and keep forever.

I used to wonder what it would be like to be old. I distinctly remember when I was 12 years old in 1962, thinking that it would be forever before I would be as ancient as my Old Grandparents! Grandma was only 63 that year…two years younger than I am now, and Grandpa was 68. All things are relative aren’t they? My Grandparents lived many more years. My Grandmother died in 1999 at the age of 100..and I, the man who had thought her old at 63 was still recovering from the first of two heart attacks, and could not help carry her coffin from the O’Zion Church that few steps to the graveyard just outside the back door.

She had never seemed to have aged that much at all from that day in 1962, up until perhaps the last year of her life. I certainly did. Relativity.

I looked at my own Grandchildren tonight and wondered what they will remember. I am 65 so I must seem decidedly aged to them. I look at myself through one set of eyes, one angle of perception, and they look with different eyes. I could not see in my Grandmother’s eyes her hopes and dreams for me. My Grandchildren cannot see mine for them. All through our lives, we are hopelessly at odds with a set of expectations for ourselves which we perceive that others have for us, when in fact our own expectations are probably always greater and more pressing.

One thing I do know that my Grandmother wished for me was more happiness and less worry. I know this because she told me so in person one day. The only other thing she wished was that I would come visit more often. I so very much wish I had.

So, for my Grandchildren…I wish for you more happiness and less worry…..and come visit when you can.

Everybody has a story. The rich and the poor. The small and the tall. Every human being contains within them the most wonderful and complex story anyone could ever hope to hear. The story of their life

The very few people who are great writers can express certain portions of their wonderful existence. But even the greatest can only show us a small snapshot of the whole. Think,… it takes you 40 hours to read a really long, interesting biography. That’s just one ordinary work week. It’s just an abbreviated compilation, albeit many I have read have been superb. Oh, that we could know more of the inner monologues of some of the great minds.

Used to be, back in the days of the great philosophers, their proteges would live with them and listen to hours and days of their teaching. Used to be people who wanted to learn a great skill would apprentice to a master for a decade or more in order to become a master themselves. Nowadays we have school, but it seems we get snippets of this and dribblings of that, and never too very much of anything specific, unless one studies to be a doctor, or a lawyer or a PHD. Even then, we don’t know the inner being. We don’t know the whole story.

I like to say, I have composed my greatest works in the bathtub, and have forgotten them as I have toweled off. The warm water does wonders for the blood circulation in the brain.

Be sure of one thing. Do not ever look down upon any other human being. Don’t think you are better than the poorest farmer working the meanest rice field in China. His story might be much greater than your own. In his eyes it certainly is…and perhaps in God’s eyes also.

Ok, call me a saint or a sinner….it don’t really matter.

There’s a really big lottery coming up tonight. Around 297 million dollars. I really hope that I win it. I could sure use it. Least I think I could.

I guess a lot of people feel that way don’t they? One thing about the lottery is that it’s a cheap dream for a lot of people. What else can you pay a dollar for and get such wonderful daydreams about? I know a lot of people say it’s gambling and you ought not to waste your money on it, but I betcha’ that a lot of them put up a few dollars when it gets up in the 200 million+ range. I bet there are even a few preachers out there who secretly shell out a few bucks on it. I don’t blame them. I don’t think it would be a sin if they won it. After all, they would probably give most of it to their churches, and keep just enough to be comfortable, wouldn’t they?

After taxes and all, I heard it would be about a 90 million dollar take home. I sit around and think about what to do with all that money. First thing everyone wants to do, of course is quit their jobs. That’s a prerequisite isn’t it? I don’t have a job now, so I guess I could skip that one…or maybe keeping up with that money would be my new job. Next thing is to go out and buy a new car and house. I know of a house close by this little town I live in that I want. It’s up on the mountain and they want a couple hundred thousand or so for it. Chicken feed after tonight! And that car? I have always liked those sleek Jaguars, no Porches though. Nothing too pretentious mind you. And then, I would pay off the few companies I owe money to. Otherwise, I am going to be paying them until the day I die. After that, who knows?

Maybe a little Norwalk Terrier to go with the dogs I have now for a pet. Take a trip to Disney World, and actually stay on site for once. Buy my wife a better diamond. Give my kid’s a million or two. After that, I guess I would just have to figure out some kind of hobby that I enjoy. I think I would buy a little RV, a small one… and go around to flea markets and antique malls and look for things to resell and make money on. I kind of enjoy looking for unfound treasures, I guess. That way I could do a little traveling. But then again, I don’t have much of a desire to go off too far. I’m not sure about the trips to Europe and all that stuff. I might like to take that Cruise that goes down the East Coast of the U.S. though.

One thing they always say about people who win big lotteries, is that it messes up their lives big time. I would like to think that I could handle it, but who knows. I’d like to try it and see.

How’s that old Rock and Roll song go?

“The best things in life are free
But you can keep ’em for the birds and bees.
Now gimme money (that’s what I want)
That’s what I want (that’s what I want)
That’s what I want (that’s what I want), oh-yeh,
That’s what I want.”

Or then there’s that other one that they play on “The Apprentice” :

“Money money money money, money
Some people got to have it
Some people really need it
Listen to me y’all, do things, do things, do bad things with it
You wanna do things, do things, do things, good things with it
Talk about cash money, money
Talk about cash money- dollar bills, yall”

Really though I like this song by John Mayer:

Me and all my friends
We’re all misunderstood
They say we stand for nothing and
There’s no way we ever could
Now we see everything is going wrong
With the world and those who lead it
We just feel like we don’t have the means
To rise above and beat it

So we keep waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
It’s hard to beat the system
When we’re standing at a distance
So we keep waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change

Now if we had the power
To bring our neighbors home from war
They woulda never missed a Christmas
No more ribbons on the door
When you trust your television
What you get is what you got ’cause when they own the information ooohhh,
They can bend it all they want!

That’s why we’re waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
It’s not that we don’t care
We just know that the fight ain’t fair
So we keep waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We’re still waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change

One day our generation
Is gonna rule the population
So we keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
Now we keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting (waiting)

Waiting on the world to change
Waiting on the world to change
Waiting on the world to change
Waiting on the world to change

Guess I really don’t “need” that lottery money after all…maybe I could “use” it though and try and change the world what little I could…

The ghost of Christmas past.

Every year without fail it comes. It’s that time of year again when my nerves become as jangled as old St. Nick’s jingle bells.

I can’t help it. I’ve tried, but to no avail. Every December 25th, right after all the wrapping paper has been torn off of all the presents (usually a TON of them…really…) I start saying to myself: “next year, I am not putting myself through the strain of trying to get so much…to do so much” but, when next year rolls around…..this year now, I start getting that feeling down in my gut that I am just not going to have enough dough, ray, mi to get what I feel like I need to get. Sometimes it get’s to the point where it downright depresses me.

I know when I was a kid, a lot of my best memories of Christmas were, or course at my Grandparent’s home. But, I guarantee you right now that they were a site simpler Christmases than now. One year that I remember really vividly was back in the mid 60’s I guess. We didn’t usually go up there until a few days before Christmas day. And guess what? Grandma didn’t have her Christmas stuff already out! That’s right; she didn’t get it out the day after Halloween like some of us do now. She didn’t have too much stuff anyway. One medium size cardboard box and that was it.

For some unknown reason that year, I went out with Grandma to cut a tree. Grandma was appointed to all that kind of stuff because of Grandpa’s arthritis in his knees. I can’t remember when he didn’t have it. Besides, he was the type who thought if Grandma needed a tree, then SHE should be the one to get it. We walked for a good piece, up and down some rolling hills. Finally, Grandma spotted a little pine tree. It was about a 4 footer, and had pretty, fully needled limbs. We took the saw and cut it down, and I drug it back to the house. Out came the cardboard box, and my brother and I, and Grandma put on the decorations. Everyone else just sort of hung back and watched. It was great fun! We had to be oh so careful with those glass ornaments, and even had to replace one or two of those big old bulbs on the one strand of red lights that she owned.

When we were through, and plugged in the lights, that little pine became transformed into a veritable “Times Square” beauty. I don’t think it would have won any contests of ANY kind. But for us, it was good. Very good.

My brother and I usually only had two or three presents each at Christmas. There was one “main” present, which usually never exceeded a twenty dollar price tag. Then there were a couple of smaller ones. Grandpa always delivered, with a stocking full of fruit. Oranges, apples, sliced orange candy, peppermint sticks (the soft ones) and all types of assorted nuts. I really looked forward to that stocking! Then, when we visited O’ Zion Baptist Church for their Christmas program, we ended up getting that wonderful brown paper bag full of the same kinds of goodies. The sliced orange candy was ALWAYS my favorite!

I don’t know when things changed, but somewhere along the line they certainly did. The stores all have gotten larger. Then of course we have had the development of Wal-Mart, the king of merchandising. With them around to push the small Mom and Pop businesses into bankruptcy, the way that Christmas has been perceived and promoted has changed tremendously. Every year it’s pushed up by a day or two. It used to be that it was right after Thanksgiving before you saw anything “Christmas” come out. Then, they moved it up a couple of weeks. They have kept moving and moving it until now the Trick or Treater’s are not off of the streets and into their beds, before the Christmas stuff comes out.

It’s not the same stuff either. I looked and looked the other day to try and find something that wasn’t made in China. I finally did. It was made in Viet Nam. I went through a JC Penney store the other day and looked at clothing and found made in Egypt, Viet Nam, Peru, Nicaragua, Singapore, South Africa, etc. You name it. The only thing I found in the whole store in 30 minutes of looking that was made in the U.S., was good old “Cannon” towels.

Well, back where I started. The feeling in the gut. It’s a little worse than usual this year. My situation is a little tenuous, and money is going to be really short. This MAY just be the year when I am forced to do what I think about every year and cut back. Besides, I am not really sure that I want to make China’s economy any better than it already is…or Viet Nam’s for that matter.

Maybe I should go out in the woods and cut down a little old pine tree, just for old time’s sake. (If the pulp wood guys haven’t gotten them all!)

I watched the launch of the Orion rocket this morning…and it brought back a little “thrill” in my soul which I thought was long gone.

How well I remember the early days of the “space race” between the United States and the USSR. The Russians beat us to the punch with “Sputnik” and the first man in outer space was Yuri Gagarin…back in April of 1961. Our first man in space was Alan Shepherd, who launched a month behind the Russians on May 5th of 1961. President Kennedy stood before America only 20 days later and said:

“We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.”

And so we were off and running, and on July 20th 1969, Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon. No other country has ever put a man there.

We have gone through many years since then, with other programs taking the place of “deep space” travel. The Space shuttle program…the space station.

All of that was exciting, but not something which would serve to inspire the soul.

Now with the Orion program, humanity seems to be pointed out towards the depth of space again. Away from the Earth, out into the unknown and unknowable. Out to perhaps one day have humanity set foot on another world.

I’m a lifelong reader of Science Fiction and Fantasy. I loved Asimov, Clarke, and Heinlein. I also liked less well known authors also, like Frank Herbert and later on Orson Scott Card. But it was mainly Heinlein who really put the reader out there amongst the stars. I really “grokked” his books.

This morning as Orion rose into the sky I thought of a quote I had read from author Norman Cousins, who became famous for “laughing” himself back to health:

To be able to rise from the earth;

to be able, from a station in outer space,

to see the relationship of the planet earth to other planets;

to be able to contemplate the billions of factors in precise and beautiful combination that make human existence possible;

to be able to dwell on an encounter of the human brain and spirit with the universe—

all this enlarges the human horizon . . .

— Norman Cousins, 1973

Hopefully this morning, the United States, and perhaps the entire world again took its first baby step towards a hopeful ultimate destiny of reaching the stars and the planets surrounding them, and “going where no man has gone before.”

Once back in the spring of 1973, (I think it was) I spent the night right in the center of Spanish Harlem in New York City. The marimbas were playing all through the night, and people were singing, dancing and cooking, because it was a Saturday night. There were screams of joy, and a few of pain. I slept well that night, with the smell of the spicy food creeping into my dreams and making me famished for breakfast.

We had been to the site of the newly built, soon to be opened World Trade Center earlier that evening, and had been invited to go up part of the way in an elevator by a construction foreman. There were four of us young men: a long tall Texas boy, an African American former college football player from Kentucky, our bespectacled New York native Peace Corp member…in whose apartment we were staying, and me…the backwoods Georgia boy.

We rode the subways, visited the harbor where lady liberty stood, and got hot dogs at Coney Island. Nobody had a bad word to say to us, never disparaged our little mixed group, or even looked at us funny. We went about the town fearlessly, never anticipating any harm or trouble. Just three out of towner’s getting shown the ropes by the city boy.

Those lights, music and smells from that night still bubble to the top of my memory from time to time, and I wonder how the world has gotten so much more callous and hateful in forty short years. I’d like to go back in time once again and look out over the lights of Manhattan from those soon to be opened, ill fated towers and yell out to the people below to stay the same as they were.

I thought to myself: “it’s taken me this long to really understand life”.

Warm socks and clean underwear really count!

Leftovers are fine….even three days in a row.

Walking is wonderful therapy, and noticing what’s going on around you is rewarding.

Petting your dog and talking to them like they’re human is perfectly fine.

Realizing that you can’t agree with everyone about everything, but you can agree with most people about “some” things will help preserve your sanity.

Loving your family and those who are as close as family, as often as possible, as completely as possible, and without condition will help preserve your spirit.

Maybe that’s not really understanding life, but simply living it a little more.

In all things there is change. Some for the good, some not. We humans change so many times during our lives. I only now realize how my grandparents…my parents, felt as they were getting older. It’s a definite change.

We start our lives in a full tub of “life”. We are in the very back corner of that full tub….that tub which is a different level for each of us. As soon as we are born, the plug is pulled and our life starts to drain. The closer we get to the “drain” the faster our life moves. The journey will…change…you.

I saw some of the ways it changed my loved ones as they raced towards the spiral at the end. I’m determined I will not change in some of those ways….and yet, much of what happens is out of my control.

So I suppose I will control what I can, and live with what I cannot control. What more can we do?

What more can we ask except for the chance to try and fulfill our best in life? It’s a true gift to be given the chance to even try. It’s a true gift to not be alone….to have people to love, and who love you back.