A Lesson for All

The tone of this entry will likely sound as though it is ridden with machismo and testosterone. Understand that is not the intent, as I will (hopefully) demonstrate in a few paragraphs later the redeeming value of this article. Please keep in mind as you read this that I am a generally easy-going guy with a jovial outlook on life.


Fresh back from a solo weekend trip to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Cathy, after she picked me up at the airport, and I decided to try a restaurant in our town that we had not previously visited. We ate our Italian fare before jumping into the car to drive home. Cathy mentioned that she needed to go to the store and asked that I go with her. Knowing how much I love going grocery shopping, I sluggishly pointed the car toward the store and gingerly pressed the gas pedal.


After purchasing our items, we sauntered toward our car, which I had parked at the back of the lot because of the number of other people who apparently had the same idea as we did. Cathy often laughs at me because my eyes are constantly scanning our surroundings. Call me paranoid if you wish, but I prefer to think of myself as one who has a heightened sense of situational awareness.


Parked next to our car was a black Chevy Silverado pick-up truck, complete with a large American flag standing proudly on a pole that was mounted in the center of the truck's bed. Plastered on the back windows were various decals, the most prominent being a rendition of a Confederate flag--usually a tell-tale sign of someone with little or no hope at being successful in this life. Now, before some of my Confederate loving friends levy hatred on yours truly, let me assure you that my great-great grandfather served in the Alabama forty-ninth infantry division of the CSA, so my ties to that time period are direct. I do not run from my history, but that does not mean I have to appreciate the newest perversion of that flag that many have embraced (usually those with little historical context).


Standing next to the truck was its owner, a man roughly my size, wearing a black t-shirt and camouflaged pants. After all, nothing says "I love grocery shopping" like wearing forest print. Next to him was a portly woman with blond-ish hair, presumably his wife. This is where it started to get a little interesting.


I watched as this "gentleman" glared at Cathy, my wife of Asian decent who stands roughly five feet tall. Next, he turned his attention to me and attempted the same glare. All of this was processed in my mind in a matter of a nano-second. The truck, the stereotypical outfit, the flags, et al. I realized I was dealing with someone who felt his skin tone made him superior in some bizarre way. What he did not realize at that moment in time is that my body had suddenly gone into attack mode, my heart rate actually dropped, and mental crosshairs were already on his torso positioned exactly where I intended to attack had he elected to make a ridiculous move.


My eyes locked on his, and as he tried to intimidate me, I recall talking to myself, repeating the phrase, "Breathe, breathe." Controlling my breath and heart rate when a dump of adrenalize falls into my gut has always been something my body has done. All the years I spent bouncing in bars and trading hands with those who allowed the alcohol, and whatever else they ingested make decisions for them, gave me a profound advantage in stressful situations.


My gaze followed his as he continued to walk. Was he thinking of saying or doing something? Possibly, but something on his face changed and he continued walking toward the store. I exhaled then popped the trunk of the car where I deposited the items we purchased. I turned my head one last time and watched as the tough guy walked through the automatic doors and disappeared inside the shop.


Cathy and I got inside the car and began driving away. She remarked to me, "Did you see that guy staring at me?" Unaware of the soundless discussion the man and I shared, I replied, "I sure did."


I recalled for her the little stare down the gentleman and I shared to which she replied, "He was obviously a white supremacist."


"Yeah, and not a smart one either," I said.


Why detail this little episode for you, the reader? Because I want to stress the importance of a few things!


1.) Do not show or feel fear in the face of someone attempting to intimidate you. Chances are the individual knows little about much and is merely trying to scare you.


2.) Control your emotions and remain focused on the situation. Protect your loved ones at all costs.


3.) Be prepared to rain down extreme violence when necessary.


Cathy (and my beautiful Mom) will be the first to tell you about the impact she (Cathy) has had on me. In my younger days, I would not hesitate to engage with someone like this fellow, but my lovely wife does not approve of me losing my composure. I work hard to maintain her approval even when I feel the old me creeping in.


All that said, I have levied my rage at men before, and have no qualms doing so again should the need arise. Fortunately for this guy that was not required, and I am happy for it. The thought of Cathy's disapproval is much worse for me than sitting in a dank jail cell.


My final thoughts on this episode are simply to reiterate what I wrote above. Do not allow anyone to gain entry into your mind and heart without your own consent. Remain in control of yourself and do not allow adrenaline to take over. This is difficult to do, but with some training it can be managed. Lastly, as a last resort, do not hesitate to inflict violence on someone intent on doing the same to you or a loved one. I do not, and I will not.

Pray for peace, but prepare for battle.

An Adventure to be Had

In just over a month, Cathy and I will climb aboard an airplane en route to the Far East for a second time as a married couple. We will be staying in Hong Kong before taking a hop to Bangkok Thailand. For the first time in several years, I am excited about a plane ride and a visit to a foreign land.

Several years ago we flew to Seoul, South Korea then into Manila, The Philippines. After a few days in Manila we jumped on a plane to Hong Kong. We did a tour of Bruce Lee's former city, suffered from an illness, and boarded the Turbo Jet to Macau, the Las Vegas of Asia.

During out stay in these Chinese lands we experienced life on a scale not understood by those who have not had the opportunity to leave their own borders. I saw what real poverty is, beyond the scope of American "poor." I witnessed a county that forbade the use of four wheeled automobiles without issuance from the government, which made itself the most two-wheeled traveled country in the world.

The Philippines is home to millions of people on seven thousand plus islands. Some of the nicest, most humble individuals in the world walk their streets, despite a lack of industry to support a populace in need of work. I cannot stress enough the beauty of the Filipinos and the glorious landscape that makes up their country.

Cathy and I then traveled to Tokyo, Japan where we experienced a culture romanticized in American movies (and for good reason). Japan is a country where politeness is expected and rudeness shunned. I watched thousands of people walk around without bumping into one another, and once, while standing in a store, a lady asked my forgiveness for standing next to me as she looked at an item on a store shelf. Can you imagine?

As I said earlier, we are both excited about our upcoming trip; I am most excited about traveling to Thailand and experiencing the sites, smells, and lifestyle of the Thai people. Experiencing how others live and operate within their own country's boundaries is what I most enjoy. Yes, I'm certain I will do "touristy" stuff, but my focus is always on the people of the land.

More to follow...

I Am Overwhelmed!

When I first started this blog a few years ago, it was simply to relay stories of my past; specifically, things I found humorous. Sometimes, stories I heard people tell, or things I heard on television prompted chuckles from deep down, or perhaps a tearful memory would crop up. Regardless of the emotion that was beckoned, I would say to myself, "That reminds me of a time when I..." and the trip down memory lane would begin.

From those memories this blog was born. I had no more than a few readers at first, some topics not garnering more than fifteen or twenty "hits." None of that mattered to me because I was only interested in cataloging those stories for family and friends. In fact, if one or two people "liked" one of my blogs, I would smile. Those likes encouraged me to write more!

Next, I turned my writing to politics, a topic I realize turns a lot of people off. Since there were only a few readers gravitating toward my blog, I wasn't too concerned about upsetting anyone. I mean nothing from nothing is still nothing, right? :)

But something strange happened along the way--more and more people began reading some of the meaningless ramblings of a man who just enjoyed the craft of writing. I was astounded when people began sharing my blog with friends that I was not connected with on social media. Soon enough my little counter topped one thousand readings. "Wow," I thought, "there are people who really read this stuff?"

In short order, a small but loyal following linked their Google+ accounts to mine, and many people subscribed to my blog. The only investment a person had to make was a minute or two of their time to read it, so it was easy I suppose. After all, that is why I invest my time with other people's blogs. The only commitment I have to make is giving myself over to their writing for a few minutes, so why not?

The point of this entry isn't necessarily to take another trip down memory lane. On the contrary, I wanted to take a moment to thank each and every person who reads this blog. Recently, we topped 35,000 views and I was once again amazed at its reach. Many people in the U.S., Canada, various countries in South America, throughout Europe, Russia, Japan, The Philippines, Australia, and several others take the time to read my meandering thoughts and musings. Talk about a loving feeling I have for humanity!

In closing, I want to thank you again for reading, debating, commenting, disagreeing, agreeing, enjoying, or hating the things I write. Your feedback is invaluable, and you make this all worthwhile.

Peace and love to all y'all!

The Indelible American Spirit

Sometimes I fear America has lost its way. Hearing and watching people decry our way of life, specifically, those blessed and fortunate enough to live here, bothers me to my core. Without a doubt, I follow politics, have my own opinions on various political topics, and, if you follow me on social media you know already that I have zero problem sharing my take on things.


When I watch the news and see idiots out protesting various events, or watch as people take positions on topics that do not align with American values or our way of life, I feel my ire rising like steam off an Alabama highway after a good rain in July. Like many others, I struggle to bite my tongue when I see people tearing at the very fabric of society and questioning our laws. Want to change things, do it the right way via legislation!


Then something like Hurricane Harvey occurs and we witness people helping people regardless of race or social station. We've seen neighbors pulling neighbors out of raging and dangerous waters, flotillas of private boats arriving in droves to help, and an outpouring of money, food, water, and clothes to help our fellow Americans.


In order to preserve our way of life, we must embrace this resilience and dependence on self and neighbor, rather than on government or elected officials. The backbone of our nation was built on hard work, drive, and a never-say-die attitude. If the rest of the world has decided they do not like us, that is fine. We love one another and will have each other's back in good times and bad.


As we watch with great fear the next natural catastrophe close in on us, let us remember to hold the people of this country in our hearts and prayers. After the storm has passed, let us rush to aid our fellow Americans get back on their feet.


Forget the fringe drivel; none of that stuff is relevant, and I know we are the greatest country on the planet because of our willingness to help one another without question. We are rich because we have one another. We prosper because we care. We love because that is what we are called to do.

A Post For Those in the Path of Hurricane Irma

Leave.

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.  :)

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.