Wednesday, September 6, 2017
Friday, August 18, 2017
I'm Tired of It
I am going to channel my inner Andy Rooney for a minute (if you're too young to remember Andy, just go to youtube and search his name: you can thank me later) and attempt to offer up a no-nonsense op-ed, sans emotion and conjecture. I realize that is out of the ordinary for me, but don't call 9-1-1 just yet--I am certain I'll be back to my old self before you can say neo-Nazi.
I used to fall victim to the "here comes the next Civil War" rhetoric espoused by anyone not paying attention to the nation as a whole. The media has always attempted to drive a wedge between Americans--for different reasons, and some that are more speculation than hardened fact--mostly because derision and division drive ratings, and with ratings come corporate sponsorships, and with sponsorships come a flood of money. You guessed it, a river of dead presidents making a news corporation rich while the rest of us agonize and wallow in our own uneducated emotional fragilities.
It is pretty safe to say that less one percent of the population identifies, on any scale, with a particular hate group. By "identify" I mean, they are card carrying members of the KKK, some neo-Nazi skinhead group, BLM, antifa, etc. Most likely, there are a higher percentage of sympathizers (my estimates link between three and five percent of our population) who support these groups. If that is true, why do we allow ourselves to engage in the ridiculousness that seems to consume our social media accounts?
Sure, I'm a political junkie with opinions as strong as the next person, but my opinion(s) is/are mine, not someone else's. I have zero issue engaging someone in debate, and at least try to keep it civil. Yes, yes, I've lost my cool on several occasions, but I TRY my best to keep emotion out of it and stick to the facts as I know and understand them. My approach is often seen as confrontational or condescending; and perhaps this is sometimes true. More often, I believe, the person with the opposing point of view is emotionally charged and elects to either a.) resort to making the issue personal, or b.) slamming the proverbial victim card on the table because they feel as though I've said something offensive.
Back to the intent of this post--every day I trudge into work and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with black, white, Asian, and Hispanic co-workers. We laugh and carry on, protected from the outside world by the walls surrounding us, working together with common goals and interests. No one worries about a Klan rally, a Black Panther Party, or an MS13 gang shooting. We just work and try to make thins as fun as possible. Sure, we have disagreements about how to get things done, and we make fun of each other for the stupid things we say or do, but we are like a big family.
If that is the case for approximately five hundred people in a single location, I suspect the rest of us work and get along with those different (in many ways) than us on a regular basis. Why get worked up over a media intent on driving ratings by driving a wedge between us? Two days ago, we were talking about monuments, today we're back to Muslims killing people in Europe. Where did the outrage go? I'll tell you where it went--to the next story!
Y'all have a lovely weekend and enjoy yourselves. If you feel yourself offended by anything I've written here, then I appreciate you allowing me to live in your head rent free. :)
I used to fall victim to the "here comes the next Civil War" rhetoric espoused by anyone not paying attention to the nation as a whole. The media has always attempted to drive a wedge between Americans--for different reasons, and some that are more speculation than hardened fact--mostly because derision and division drive ratings, and with ratings come corporate sponsorships, and with sponsorships come a flood of money. You guessed it, a river of dead presidents making a news corporation rich while the rest of us agonize and wallow in our own uneducated emotional fragilities.
It is pretty safe to say that less one percent of the population identifies, on any scale, with a particular hate group. By "identify" I mean, they are card carrying members of the KKK, some neo-Nazi skinhead group, BLM, antifa, etc. Most likely, there are a higher percentage of sympathizers (my estimates link between three and five percent of our population) who support these groups. If that is true, why do we allow ourselves to engage in the ridiculousness that seems to consume our social media accounts?
Sure, I'm a political junkie with opinions as strong as the next person, but my opinion(s) is/are mine, not someone else's. I have zero issue engaging someone in debate, and at least try to keep it civil. Yes, yes, I've lost my cool on several occasions, but I TRY my best to keep emotion out of it and stick to the facts as I know and understand them. My approach is often seen as confrontational or condescending; and perhaps this is sometimes true. More often, I believe, the person with the opposing point of view is emotionally charged and elects to either a.) resort to making the issue personal, or b.) slamming the proverbial victim card on the table because they feel as though I've said something offensive.
Back to the intent of this post--every day I trudge into work and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with black, white, Asian, and Hispanic co-workers. We laugh and carry on, protected from the outside world by the walls surrounding us, working together with common goals and interests. No one worries about a Klan rally, a Black Panther Party, or an MS13 gang shooting. We just work and try to make thins as fun as possible. Sure, we have disagreements about how to get things done, and we make fun of each other for the stupid things we say or do, but we are like a big family.
If that is the case for approximately five hundred people in a single location, I suspect the rest of us work and get along with those different (in many ways) than us on a regular basis. Why get worked up over a media intent on driving ratings by driving a wedge between us? Two days ago, we were talking about monuments, today we're back to Muslims killing people in Europe. Where did the outrage go? I'll tell you where it went--to the next story!
Y'all have a lovely weekend and enjoy yourselves. If you feel yourself offended by anything I've written here, then I appreciate you allowing me to live in your head rent free. :)
Monday, August 7, 2017
Conversations That Matter
Sometimes, poignant conversations can and will transpire in the strangest of places, the weirdest of times, and with people with whom you have never conversed. Talks or discussions that resonate with us are also the ones that find a place in our memories, carving out a small niche in our mind where they dwell until we call upon them again. These are the talks that serve us well, that help us relay those life lessons to others, and are the things that make us human.
Recently, I purchased lumber at Home Depot, a rather innocuous event that I have completed without issue dozens, maybe hundreds of times. In my free time, I have been building a small shed in our backyard that will house my lawn and gardening tools. It is nothing massive, but it has been my little project that I am pretty proud of, and one that allows me to hone some basic carpentry skills.
I pulled my old pickup truck to lumber loading area then hopped out and grabbed my cart holding a couple of large pieces of press board and siding for my shed. The usual helpful workers clambering around the store were not to be found as I began transferring my small stockpile into the bed of the F-150. An older black gentleman stopped and asked if I needed any help.
"No sir, but I do appreciate you asking," I responded.
"You sure you're strong enough to pick that stuff up by yourself?" he asked.
I laughed. "I reckon I can manage, but thanks again."
I picked up the first 4 x 8 piece of press board and watched it slip out of my hands as I turned to put it into the bed of my truck.
"Alright, son, now I'll help ya'," the man told me.
I laughed again. "Well, thank you."
As we loaded the material he noticed another gentleman smoking a cigarette.
"You know, I stopped smoking in 1970," he explained.
"Oh yeah?" I asked.
"Yep. I regret I ever started smoking. Picked up another bad habit too," he said.
"What's that?" I asked as I slid another board off the cart.
"Chasing women," he said matter-of-factly. "I got married when I was sixteen years old and my wife was fourteen. Been married fifty-seven years now. I used to go out on weekends acting the fool, but my wife finally told me she didn't care. Said that was less for her to have to deal with when I was out on the weekends. After she told me that, I started staying home," he laughed.
I cackled. "Well, women certainly know how to put things in perspective, don't they?"
"They sure do, son. Do you have any regrets?" He asked me.
I stopped loading the truck and wiped a large bead of sweat that was making its way down the side of my face.
"I'm a grown man, sir, and I have a lifetime of regrets. I just try real hard to forgive myself and push forward," I responded.
He shook his head and laughed. "I know you're right."
Regrets, forgiveness, introspection, and good conversation make for real life.
As a wise person once said, "Live, laugh, and love."
Y'all be well.
Recently, I purchased lumber at Home Depot, a rather innocuous event that I have completed without issue dozens, maybe hundreds of times. In my free time, I have been building a small shed in our backyard that will house my lawn and gardening tools. It is nothing massive, but it has been my little project that I am pretty proud of, and one that allows me to hone some basic carpentry skills.
I pulled my old pickup truck to lumber loading area then hopped out and grabbed my cart holding a couple of large pieces of press board and siding for my shed. The usual helpful workers clambering around the store were not to be found as I began transferring my small stockpile into the bed of the F-150. An older black gentleman stopped and asked if I needed any help.
"No sir, but I do appreciate you asking," I responded.
"You sure you're strong enough to pick that stuff up by yourself?" he asked.
I laughed. "I reckon I can manage, but thanks again."
I picked up the first 4 x 8 piece of press board and watched it slip out of my hands as I turned to put it into the bed of my truck.
"Alright, son, now I'll help ya'," the man told me.
I laughed again. "Well, thank you."
As we loaded the material he noticed another gentleman smoking a cigarette.
"You know, I stopped smoking in 1970," he explained.
"Oh yeah?" I asked.
"Yep. I regret I ever started smoking. Picked up another bad habit too," he said.
"What's that?" I asked as I slid another board off the cart.
"Chasing women," he said matter-of-factly. "I got married when I was sixteen years old and my wife was fourteen. Been married fifty-seven years now. I used to go out on weekends acting the fool, but my wife finally told me she didn't care. Said that was less for her to have to deal with when I was out on the weekends. After she told me that, I started staying home," he laughed.
I cackled. "Well, women certainly know how to put things in perspective, don't they?"
"They sure do, son. Do you have any regrets?" He asked me.
I stopped loading the truck and wiped a large bead of sweat that was making its way down the side of my face.
"I'm a grown man, sir, and I have a lifetime of regrets. I just try real hard to forgive myself and push forward," I responded.
He shook his head and laughed. "I know you're right."
Regrets, forgiveness, introspection, and good conversation make for real life.
As a wise person once said, "Live, laugh, and love."
Y'all be well.
Thursday, July 6, 2017
Earn Your Own Way! (Political Rant...You've Been Warned)
I just received a robot call from an outfit called United Breastcare Foundation asking for a donation. Now, I am a guy and am united in saving all the breasts. Breasts are great and should be preserved for as long as possible. In fact, what man (MAN) in his right mind would not want to help save the beautiful women sporting those life-giving mammary glands that we enjoy staring at while hanging out on a beach, pool, work, while driving, standing, sleeping, watching television...yeah, you get the picture.
All humor aside, one of the great things that has made America great (again/always) is our giving nature. We help those incapable of helping themselves, but pick ourselves up by our own bootstraps and frown upon asking for help unless in great need. We're 'Muricans, dammit and we take care of our own.
With that said, it is important that we understand what capitalism means. From dictionary.com--
noun
All humor aside, one of the great things that has made America great (again/always) is our giving nature. We help those incapable of helping themselves, but pick ourselves up by our own bootstraps and frown upon asking for help unless in great need. We're 'Muricans, dammit and we take care of our own.
With that said, it is important that we understand what capitalism means. From dictionary.com--
noun
1. an economic system in which investment in and ownership of the means of production, distribution, and exchange of wealth is made and maintained chiefly by private individuals or corporations, especially as contrasted to cooperatively or state-owned means of wealth.
Interestingly, our own Declaration of Independence, Articles of Confederation, and Constitution of the United States in no way outline methods or laws that require anyone to pay for someone else. If that is true (and it is), why are so many hell bent on keeping in place ridiculous laws like the Affordable Care Act?
The reason is clear to those of us with a defined notion of self-preservation and a desire to maintain The Constitution; laws such as the ACA are the antithesis of capitalism and freedom. They handcuff Americans by making them dependent on government (you know, those folks we vote for in hopes of keeping us free, but whose actions are exactly the opposite). Supporters of this nonsense are perplexing and strange. They scream about "freedom" while supporting those who desire to control us!
Of course, the ACA is only symptomatic of a much larger problem for those who support it. Many of these same individuals want to sit at home watching television or backpacking around the countryside while the government supports their whimsical nature. My question to these individuals--where do you think the government gets the money to support your laziness?
I will leave this here for your to chew on, ponder, and consider. If you have used the ACA to your benefit then I am happy for you. But before you respond, perhaps you could offer your thanks to me and the millions of others that paid for your care. :)
Saturday, June 17, 2017
Father's Day--An Emotional Day
I am forty-eight years old this year and blessed with two gorgeous biological daughters, and three exemplary step-children. The greatest benefit of being a man is being a dad. Dads will nurture, embrace, and protect their offspring in a way that women won't or can't understand. Yes, mothers are protective, but dads are willing to put their lives on the line for everything that is their children and family. We are conditioned to be that strong person that our kids want to emulate, and this conditioning is right and should be without question.
Mother's Day is a day of earth, beginnings, life, and love. Father's Day is a day of sun, toughness, and light. It's a day to celebrate one half of life-giving and compassion. Father's Day is a gloriously quiet holiday celebrated by families everywhere via grilling, beer, and laughter.
I have (as of Sunday) spent twenty-five Father's Days without my dad, but never a day goes by that I don't smile when thinking of him or some silly thing he said. My Pops wasn't the best carpenter in the world, didn't know everything about politics that others may have understood, nor was he man without flaws. He was, above all else, a human being struggling to make his way through life like we all do.
One dream my Dad always shared with me was to own his own business. He grew weary of working for someone else and doing what others told him to do. Dad was a dreamer, an American, a patriot, and a veteran. He embodied everything about a poor man trying to lift himself out of poverty on his own and without the help of anyone else. Dad was proud and made sure that hard work and a "never say die" attitude was emblazoned in his son's minds.
This Father's Day is a melancholy one for me. It's one that makes me happy to be a Dad...to be one who not only aided in creating life, but in shaping and melding my kids into good, productive members of society. They are what my Dad wanted his boys to be.
So, pardon me if I shed a tear while I think about my Dad and wish he was here to talk to me and see what has become of his grandchildren. I have no doubt about how proud he would be or how often he would tell his friends about their accomplishments. My kids are products of his teachings, however short they were, and I look forward to sharing time and stories with him once again.
Mother's Day is a day of earth, beginnings, life, and love. Father's Day is a day of sun, toughness, and light. It's a day to celebrate one half of life-giving and compassion. Father's Day is a gloriously quiet holiday celebrated by families everywhere via grilling, beer, and laughter.
I have (as of Sunday) spent twenty-five Father's Days without my dad, but never a day goes by that I don't smile when thinking of him or some silly thing he said. My Pops wasn't the best carpenter in the world, didn't know everything about politics that others may have understood, nor was he man without flaws. He was, above all else, a human being struggling to make his way through life like we all do.
One dream my Dad always shared with me was to own his own business. He grew weary of working for someone else and doing what others told him to do. Dad was a dreamer, an American, a patriot, and a veteran. He embodied everything about a poor man trying to lift himself out of poverty on his own and without the help of anyone else. Dad was proud and made sure that hard work and a "never say die" attitude was emblazoned in his son's minds.
This Father's Day is a melancholy one for me. It's one that makes me happy to be a Dad...to be one who not only aided in creating life, but in shaping and melding my kids into good, productive members of society. They are what my Dad wanted his boys to be.
So, pardon me if I shed a tear while I think about my Dad and wish he was here to talk to me and see what has become of his grandchildren. I have no doubt about how proud he would be or how often he would tell his friends about their accomplishments. My kids are products of his teachings, however short they were, and I look forward to sharing time and stories with him once again.
Monday, June 12, 2017
Back on Track (I Think I Can, I Think I Can)
I am blessed that I do not suffer from writer's block, nor have I ever. Ideas for books, magazine articles, or my blogs come relatively easy for me. Like I said, I am blessed--this isn't intended as bragging. In some regards it's almost debilitating, as there is so much I want to share and find myself lacking focus on one project then jumping to the next.
I rationalize it like this, "I've got to get these ideas into my computer before they slip from my memory. If I do that, I can always come back to the previous ones and finish them."
Well, I have begun the last and final project until I finish the previous ones. There are four or five active titles that I have started and not pushed through to completion, but I have refocused and rededicated myself to getting those done!
One of the larger issues I face, and many, many other do as well, is having enough time to work on our written projects (or music, or gardens, or motorcycles, etc.). While writing my first two novels, I approached them in a businesslike manner: I would force myself to write "x" number of words per week. If I slacked off one day, I pushed myself the next to make up for the previous. In doing so, I managed to complete the second novel (rough draft) in a matter of months, go through the editing process, and watch the finished product be born.
So, I am back to approaching my writing as both a love and a business. I love to write, but discipline must drive the project. From a practical standpoint, dedicating a proscribed amount of time each day to write is the best way to finish projects. Now that I am forcing myself back on that path, I hope to complete at least one project by the end of the year. Another one that I began almost two years ago keeps nagging at me to finish--that will be next up. After those, I will return to the world of Bill Evers, bringing him and his adventures back to life. How I have missed writing about Bill, Buddy, and the gang!
There you have it--I'm back on this writing thing. The fire is reignited and burning hot. Okay, that's probably an exaggeration, but I am busy at the keyboard once again. :)
I rationalize it like this, "I've got to get these ideas into my computer before they slip from my memory. If I do that, I can always come back to the previous ones and finish them."
Well, I have begun the last and final project until I finish the previous ones. There are four or five active titles that I have started and not pushed through to completion, but I have refocused and rededicated myself to getting those done!
One of the larger issues I face, and many, many other do as well, is having enough time to work on our written projects (or music, or gardens, or motorcycles, etc.). While writing my first two novels, I approached them in a businesslike manner: I would force myself to write "x" number of words per week. If I slacked off one day, I pushed myself the next to make up for the previous. In doing so, I managed to complete the second novel (rough draft) in a matter of months, go through the editing process, and watch the finished product be born.
So, I am back to approaching my writing as both a love and a business. I love to write, but discipline must drive the project. From a practical standpoint, dedicating a proscribed amount of time each day to write is the best way to finish projects. Now that I am forcing myself back on that path, I hope to complete at least one project by the end of the year. Another one that I began almost two years ago keeps nagging at me to finish--that will be next up. After those, I will return to the world of Bill Evers, bringing him and his adventures back to life. How I have missed writing about Bill, Buddy, and the gang!
There you have it--I'm back on this writing thing. The fire is reignited and burning hot. Okay, that's probably an exaggeration, but I am busy at the keyboard once again. :)
Friday, June 9, 2017
Forever Lasting
Once in a while there are iconoclastic events or movements that forever impact and change how humans think, perceive, or interact. When a bawdy William Shakespeare wrote and published his infamous Taming of the Shrew he could not have known the lasting impact it would have on future plays, movies (of course he wouldn't have known this), or the English language. There would have been zero chance that Shakespeare would have an idea that his comedic play about a man attempting to "tame" his would-be wife by starving her and depriving her of drink would be debated by scholars centuries later as to whether it was misogynistic or not. After all, while he may have wanted to drive home a point, there would have been no way ole William could have possibly known of the plays lasting impact!
Notably, other writers have created a substantial uproar with things they have written, but none, in my opinion, have gotten close to striking nerves, inflecting changes in language, or impacting the human race (purely from an artistic perspective) like William Shakespeare. His comedies, tragedies, and dramas are without comparison or competition. In fact, many movies and stories written today are based on those he created five hundred years ago.
Again in my opinion, there are creative, artistic visionaries who come along once every two or three centuries that have an influence over so many others; they make or do something that changes how future artists conduct themselves. It is with that that I proclaim The Beatles "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" as the musical equivalent of William Shakespeare's plays.
Notably, other writers have created a substantial uproar with things they have written, but none, in my opinion, have gotten close to striking nerves, inflecting changes in language, or impacting the human race (purely from an artistic perspective) like William Shakespeare. His comedies, tragedies, and dramas are without comparison or competition. In fact, many movies and stories written today are based on those he created five hundred years ago.
Again in my opinion, there are creative, artistic visionaries who come along once every two or three centuries that have an influence over so many others; they make or do something that changes how future artists conduct themselves. It is with that that I proclaim The Beatles "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" as the musical equivalent of William Shakespeare's plays.
Fifty years ago this album was released and remains one of the most listened to musical ensembles of all time. This album has single handedly influenced musicians for three generations and will likely continue to do so for several more. Those four hippies from Great Britain managed to write music that was beyond meaningful--it resonates with the soul and stirs the human psyche. Some will argue their "White Album" was their greatest, but much of it was about marketing and branding The Beatles' image. Sgt. Pepper's was/is deeply moving, thought provoking, melodic, and entrancing.
Hits like "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and "With a Little Help From My Friends" are known by most who listen to any music, but songs like "When I'm 64" and "Lovely Rita" should give anyone pause in appreciation of The Beatles musical genius.
Happy fiftieth birthday Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band! We are all so much better off with you in our lives.
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