THE RACE

I noticed this morning that I have 99 blog posts archived. So, I wanted to make number 100 special. I have just read this poem and was moved to tears by it. There is so much I would like to say about the meaning but the poem is long so I will just leave my comments to this brief introduction. If there is somewhere you have to be in two minutes, just wait and come back later. You will need a few minutes to process the meaning for your life.

.

.

THE RACE

by DEE GROBERG

.

"QUIT! GIVE UP YOU'RE BEATEN!"

THEY SHOUT AT ME AND PLEAD.

"THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH AGAINST YOU NOW.

THIS TIME YOU CAN'T SUCCEED."

.

AND AS I START TO HANG MY HEAD

IN FRONT OF FAILURE'S FACE,

MY DOWNWARD FALL IS BROKEN BY

THE MEMORY OF A RACE.

.

AND HOPE REFILLS MY WEAKENED WILL

AS I RECALL THAT SCENE;

FOR JUST THE THOUGHT OF THAT SHORT RACE

REJUVENATES MY BEING.

.

A CHILDREN'S RACE--YOUNG BOYS, YOUNG MEN--

HOW I REMEMBER WELL.

EXCITEMENT, SURE! BUT ALSO FEAR;

IT WASN'T HARD TO TELL.

.

THEY ALL LINED UP SO FULL OF HOPE;

EACH THOUGHT TO WIN THAT RACE.

OR TIE FOR FIRST, OR IF NOT THAT,

AT LEAST TAKE SECOND PLACE.

.

AND FATHERS WATCHED FROM OFF THE SIDE

EACH CHEERING FOR HIS SON.

AND EACH BOY HOPED TO SHOW HIS DAD

THAT HE WOULD BE THE ONE.

.

THE WHISTLE BLEW AND OFF THEY WENT,

YOUNG HEARTS AND HOPES AFIRE.

TO WIN AND BE THE HERO THERE

WAS EACH YOUNG BOY'S DESIRE.

.

AND ONE BOY IN PARTICULAR,

WHOSE DAD WAS IN THE CROWD,

WAS RUNNING NEAR THE LEAD AND THOUGHT:

"MY DAD WILL BE SO PROUD!"

.

BUT AS THEY SPED DOWN THE FIELD

ACROSS A SHALLOW DIP,

THE LITTLE BOY WHO THOUGHT TO WIN

LOST HIS STEP AND SLIPPED.

.

TRYING HARD TO CATCH HIMSELF,

HIS HANDS FLEW OUT TO BRACE,

BUT MID THE LAUGHTER OF THE CROWD

HE FELL FLAT ON HIS FACE.

.

SO DOWN HE FELL AND WITH HIM HOPE

HE COULDN'T WIN IT NOW--

EMBARRASSED, SAD, HE ONLY WISHED

TO DISAPPER SOMEHOW.

.

BUT AS HE FELL HIS DAD STOOD UP,

AND SHOWED HIS ANXIOUS FACE,

WHICH TO THE BOY SO CLEARLY SAID,

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE."

.

HE QUICKLY ROSE, NO DAMAGE DONE,

BEHIND A BIT, THAT'S ALL--

AND RAN WITH ALL HIS MIND AND MIGHT

TO MAKE UP FOR HIS FALL.

.

SO ANXIOUS TO RESTORE HIMSELF

TO CATCH UP AND TO WIN--

HIS MIND WENT FASTER THAN HIS LEGS;

HE SLIPPED AND FELL AGAIN!

.

HE WISHED THEN HE HAD QUIT BEFORE,

WITH ONLY ONE DISGRACE.

"I'M HOPELESS AS A RUNNER NOW;

I SHOULDN'T TRY TO RACE."

.

BUT IN THE LAUGHING CROWD HE SEARCHED

AND FOUND HIS FATHER'S FACE;

THAT STEADY LOOK WHICH SAID AGAIN:

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"

.

SO UP HE JUMPED TO TRY AGAIN

TEN YARDS BEHIND THE LAST--

"IF I'M TO GAIN THOSE YARDS," HE THOUGHT,

"I'VE GOT TO MOVE REAL FAST."

.

EXERTING EVERYTHING HE HAD

HE REGAINED EIGHT OR TEN,

BUT TRYING SO HARD TO CATCH THE LEAD

HE SLIPPED AND FELL AGAIN!

.

DEFEAT! HE LAY THERE SILENTLY

A TEAR DROPPED FROM HIS EYE--

"THERE'S NO SENSE RUNNING ANYMORE;

THREE STRIKES: I'M OUT! WHY TRY!"

.

THE WILL TO RISE HAD DISAPPEARED;

ALL HOPE HAD FLED AWAY;

SO FAR BEHIND, SO ERROR PRONE;

A LOSER ALL THE WAY.

.

"I'VE LOST, SO WHAT'S THE USE," HE THOUGHT.

"I'LL LIVE WITH MY DISGRACE."

BUT THEN HE THOUGHT ABOUT HIS DAD

WHO SOON HE'D HAVE TO FACE.

.

"GET UP," AN ECHO SOUNDED LOW.

"GET UP AND TAKE YOUR PLACE;

YOU WERE NOT MEANT FOR FAILURE HERE.

GET UP AND WIN THE RACE."

.

"WITH BORROWED WILL GET UP," IT SAID,

"YOU HAVEN'T LOST AT ALL.

FOR WINNING IS NO MORE THAN THIS:

TO RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL."

.

SO UP HE ROSE TO RUN ONCE MORE,

AND WITH A NEW COMMIT

HE RESOLVED THAT WIN OR LOSE

AT LEAST HE WOULDN'T QUIT.

.

SO FAR BEHIND THE OTHERS NOW,

THE MOST HE'D EVER BEEN--

STILL HE GAVE IT ALL HE HAD

AND RAN AS THOUGH TO WIN.

.

THREE TIMES HE'D FALLEN, STUMBLING;

THREE TIMES HE ROSE AGAIN;

TOO FAR BEHIND TO HOPE TO WIN

HE STILL RAN TO THE END.

.

THEY CHEERED THE WINNING RUNNER,

AS HE CROSSED THE LINE FIRST PLACE.

HEAD HIGH, AND PROUD, AND HAPPY;

NO FALLING, NO DISGRACE.

.

BUT WHEN THE FALLEN YOUNGSTER

CROSSED THE LINE LAST PLACE,

THE CROWD GAVE HIM THE GREATER CHEER,

FOR FINISHING THE RACE.

.

AND EVEN THOUGH HE CAME IN LAST,

WITH HEAD BOWED LOW, UNPROUD,

YOU WOULD HAVE THOUGHT HE'D WON THE RACE

TO LISTEN TO THE CROWD.

.

AND TO HIS DAD HE SADLY SAID,

"I DIDN'T DO TOO WELL."

"TO ME, YOU WON," HIS FATHER SAID.

"YOU ROSE EACH TIME YOU FELL."

.

AND NOW WHEN THINGS SEEM DARK AND HARD

AND DIFFICULT TO FACE,

THE MEMORY OF THAT LITTLE BOY

HELPS ME IN MY RACE.

.

FOR ALL OF LIFE IS LIKE THAT RACE,

WITH UPS AND DOWNS AND ALL.

AND ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO WIN,

IS RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL.

Style

How do you define style? Webster offers several definitions, including; "overall excellence, skill, or grace in performance, manner, or appearance". I like that definition. However, I recently discovered another definition of style that I like better. I can show you better than I can tell you;

.

.

.

.

.

.

Now that is STYLE! Three of my girls at the recent Vaughn Park ladies tea personify excellence and grace.

Growing Old is not for Sissies!

I am determined to push my body to exercise and, as Dr. George Sheehan said, "be the animal I was meant to be". My philosophy is that doing that for a lifetime requires finding ways to make it enjoyable. In keeping with that philosophy, I recently purchased a mountian bicycle. To be precise, the insurance company representing the crazy woman who turned left across three lanes and bashed my truck bought me a bike. That is another post. This one is about stretching my wings and soaring to new heights on my sturdy mountain bike. I will try to share pictures occasionally. Here are the first two;
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.






Man, that was a cool day on the Coosa! Thanks to LaWanna for climbing that other mountain to take the pictures.

Dilbert continued

In keeping with the theme of the post "Ode to Baron" (see below) I am following up with the view from my office. Securing a corner office or an office with a view has long been considered an indication of increased standing in the company. To some, the office-location-status is more important than salary or workload. In a way, I am one of those. But not like most folks. Here are some views from my office that I enjoy every day at work. If I have to explain why this view at a lower salary trumps a computer screen and no windows at a higher salary, then I probably am not a sufficient word-smith to convey to you the difference measured in stress level, blood-pressure, and the ability to literaly whistle while you work.

As you can see, this was taken from inside the mailtruck. Here are more;




And one more;
There are more, but you get the idea. Yes, I could be making more money. Yes, the USPS needs me in a higher postion. Yes, I wear a blue collar now instead of a dress shirt and tie. No, I do not get called "Sir" nearly as often. If you don't get it, stop by the Coosa River one afternoon and I will share half my apple while we talk about it. Maybe when you leave, you will understand. But not everybody does.

Ode to Baron

This is today's Dilbert cartoon strip but I call it "Ode to Baron". That's all I have to say about that.

Big Yellow Taxi

Big Yellow Taxi is one of my favorite songs. It has a catchy melody and a chorus that is thought-provoking, simple and a truism. It also uses those elements to pull you in--to convince you that "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" by lamenting the paving of paradise, putting all the trees in a tree museum, and the killing of birds and bees with DDT and then WHAM! Just when you are sure the title of the song must be either "They paved paradise and put up a parking lot" or "Don't it always seem to go, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" the tempo slows and in a whisper he says "Late last night I heard the scream door slam. A big yellow taxi took my girl away." Wow! That is what the song is really about. Now that he has suffered such a great loss, he sees the pattern of failing to appreciate blessings in other areas as well.

Here is my variation of that song; I will tell you the principle first then tell you the humorous story that reminded me of it.
Principle;
We all have a tendency to cover up problems instead of doing the hard digging required to actually fix the problem. We do this even though we know the problem will only get worse if we ignore it.
Funny story;
In the latest incarnation of my career I walk up to the door of a 150-year-old house in Wetumpka most days. The couple that lives here are probably in their 70's. There is a semi-circular dirt drive in front of the house. At the edge of this drive, I noticed a few months ago there was a wet spot. This seemed odd since it had not rained in some time. For the next several days I noticed it was still wet. I walked over and pressed on the edge of the wet area with my foot and water seeped up in the middle. That can't be good. A quick survey offered the likely explanation; there was a water meter directly across the drive. These folks have a water leak underground. There is also a sweet gum tree nearby that I would guess is about 120 years old that was struck by lightning a few months ago. I don't know if the lightning strike caused the rupture, but it is possible. Here is the funny part. A couple of days later there was a couple of shovel-fuls of dirt on top of the wet spot. In a few more days the water had soaked through that dirt. Then there was more dirt. Then the water soaked through again. This process has gone on and on. Now there is a large mound of dirt at the edge of the drive and the grass around the mound is growing like crazy. Since we haven't had rain in 40 days and 40 nights, the rest of the grass is dry and parched. Not this spot. Green and lush. In fact the grass and clover growing there is the only thing nearby that is as tall as the mound of wet dirt. I never see this gentleman but can hardly believe that he can't realize that there is a broken pipe underground and no matter how much dirt he piles on, the water will still continue to leak.
It seems silly, or to be honest it seems foolish. But how many times have I done the same?

"Don't it always seem to go, you cover the symptoms instead of digging for the real problem?" Until the screen door slams. I love that song.

TIGER ATTACK!!!

It was the kind of environment that cause all my senses to remain on full alert. There were strange creatures everywhere and my eyes constantly shifted left and right. I kept LaWanna always just to my left and within reach. Even with my constant watchfulness, she saw it before I did. Her screams caused my heightened senses to send instant messages to all my muscles to coil for the pending attack. I could not believe it when her screams evolved into the word T-I-G-E-R!!! Could it be true? I still did not see the menacing creature! Then suddenly there were the piercing eyes, the huge paws, the fiendishly camouflaged stripes. It really was a tiger! I know it is difficult to believe. Fortunately, there was someone nearby with a camera and here is the proof.






O.K., it was a young tiger. And the jungle was downtown Montgomery during Jubilee weekend. But you have to admit that there are some wild creatures downtown during Jubilee--some who only come to town on that weekend--and perhaps during the fair. Maybe I will write later about the resemblance to Sodom-francisco. But this post is about the tiger. Yes, it is true that LaWanna's screams were not screams of terror but of delight. "I've always wanted to pet a tiger" she said like a kid in a candy store. "And you shall" says I. So I pulled a few strings and not only were we allowed to pet the tiger, but the caretakers also felt that we looked so good with the tiger that they insisted on taking our pictures. Young people, let this be a lesson to you; be nice to enough people....and give enough people $15 and you can have anything you want in life. You may be wondering "LaWanna, why are you holding the poor tiger so high under her armpits?" Well, LaWanna can explain to you, as an expert tiger handler, with minutes or at least seconds of training, that you hold them that way instead of cuddling them as you would be inclined so that they will not claw your eyes out. The very pregnant handler would actually hold the little cub with one hand under one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Actually, it was more like a gallon of milk--you know with the little milk-filled handle, only she used a leg and shoulder like the handle. She explained that this most resembles the way the mother carries the cubs. And while it looked a little rough, sure enough the cub just went limp when picked up that way and did not squirm or attempt to break free. The bands were fun at Jubilee, my tickets were free, and we saw several friends we haven't seen in a while. But what we will probably remember most was the few minutes spent with "our own" little tiger. A good time was had by all.

Picture Identification Required

The sign on the door to the Wetumpka Post Office is like those on USPS buildings everywhere; AUTHORIZED EMPLOYEES ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. ALL EMPLOYEES MUST HAVE A PICTURE IDENTIFICATION. There are lots of security measures in postal facilities and many are wise requirements, especially in large facilities like the mail processing office in Montgomery that employs hundreds of men and women on three shifts working literally around the clock. In an office that size, nobody can know everybody and disgruntled former employees are not rare. But in a small office like Wetumpka, we DO all know each other which makes some of the restrictions and requirements silly. They are, however, still requirements. And so there are regular checks of ID badges and a log must be maintained showing the dates that badges were checked and actions taken so that when somebody comes from a REALLY big office they will have lots of things to check, evlauate, and write up.

It sometimes reminds you of Barney wanting to follow some obscure regulation in Mayberry where Otis, the town drunk, has always locked himself up and released himself after he sleeps it off. I have played all the roles in this comedy, including inspector/enforcer. Now I am playing the role of laugher/mocker. I was born for this role. The latest act began when the part-time work I have been doing for the District Attorney's office in the Pre-Trial Diversion program was assigned to be a state job. There were many forms to complete and many checklists and hoops and dogs and ponies and it was ridiculous and I had much fun with the process. However, there was a catch. One of the hoops I had to jump through was to provide my Social Security card for.....well, nobody could explain what for......you just have to have it. I tried to remember the last time I used or saw my Social Security card. Couldn't remember. When I realized it was not in my wallet, I had no idea where it might be. It was not in the fire-proof box with my outdated will and other outdated papers. I tried to trick them with the devious plan of submitting my annual statement from the SSA showing my meager earnings and what I MIGHT receive if some money is actually in the SSA accounts when I turn 62 or 65 or 67 or 94 depending on the year of my birth. Nope. That will not do because........well, nobody knows why......you just have to have a card. Not a problem, I cheerfully replied. I will just jaunt down to the SSA office and pick up a replacement card. Whoa, not so fast. What you actually have to do is download a form (this saves the 2 to 3 weeks it will take for them to mail you one), fill it out, and submit it in person at the nearest SSA office along with 37 forms of identification (at least two of which must have a picture) and a copy of your outdated will. Seriously, the form had many blanks including your mother's AND your father's social security numbers. I am not making this up! While digging through sexy birthday cards from my sweet wife and threatening notes sent home by Mark's grade school teachers I stumbled on.....my social security card. I danced like George Bush! Card submitted, copy faxed, hallelujah I am now a State employee AND a postal employee. You can't make me do nothing!

Here is the point of the social security card story; in the process I also found an ID card from the days when I worked in mail processing. This was prior the the ultra-modern General Mail Facility or as most locals call it--the AUM Post Office. This was in the earliest days of what was called the CPA--Capital Plaza Annex. That is right, when we began to be automated we quickly outgrew the facility in the old federal courthouse downtown and moved into......well......a former grocery store on the Southern Bypass. This old ID gave me a chuckle and an idea. So I used my hole punch to make a slot for the clip, switched the clip from my ID showing me in white shirt and tie to the newfound ID and wore it to work. I bet you would love a look at the Id. You know you want to see it. What did Roxy look like in 1974? Has he always had white hair? Did he always have a beard? Was he always muscular and ruggedly handsome? The answer to all these questions is NO! He used to look like this............

Of course, the white streak in the middle is where I covered my SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER! Because we all know that all you really need is the number and not the actual card to steal somebody's identity! Now, some of you will look at this picture and say "That is not Roxy, that is J.D. Williams. His signature is at the base of the picture." Good observation. But that is the name of the postmaster in Montgomery in 1974 who was fairly intelligent but did not understand that he sould sign UNDER where it says "validating signature". That is indeed me at about age 20 and I have had more fun with this badge already than a brand new BB gun. And there is little danger of putting anybody's eye out. Actually, the more recent ID is far more likely to cause eye damage!

Wedding Pictures

It took a few weeks, but here are a few great pictures of Lindsay and Mark's wedding. The pictures are by John Anderson and can be viewed at www.photographybyjohnanderson.com/wishum. He took over 1200 so there will be more later!

Beautiful setting.

Beautiful mom.

Keep scrolling......

Helen and Lindsay--all smiles.

Lucky groom.

Proud dad.

The grooms grandmothers

Pretty girls everywhere!

When the wedding director is away, the boys will play.

The bride was stunning!

We laughed at the cold wind.

It got warmer and warmer.

And warmer.

Graceful entrance.

If the photographer is John Anderson, there will be some "swangin".

The mothers-in-law seem to be getting along just fine.

Turns out, weddings can be lots of fun.

The Sun sets on a beautiful day.
You should see this sunset TWICE.
Everybody was really glad to see me........get off the dance floor!
They must be off! What's the hurry?

Virginia Tech Massacre

Many facts about the shootings at VT will be uncovered over the coming days. Even more opinion and speculation will be broadcast because lots of 24 hour news networks must fill the void with ever-more spectacular perspectives. I can not resist offering some simple observations. Let me state the obvious; I was not there on that day and did not know Mr. Cho before the shootings, therefore my observations are based on news reports and I fully realize that some of those may be inaccurate in these early days. Still here are 10 observations;

1] Cho Seung-Hui's parents and sister are also victims and need our prayers.

2] It is possible to live in the richest country in the world, be given a good education, a car, and unlimited opportunity and still be envious of others that seem to have more.

3] Self-centered people will use this terrible event to push their agenda--conservative and liberal, republican and democrat, news reporters and entertainers.

4] This is part of the reason your "narrow-minded" parents do not want you to dress in goth style, get tattoos, and multiple body piercings--if you adorn yourself like a mass-murderer, it is not unreasonable for others to suspect that you may have those tendencies.

5] We have a right and responsibility to ask people about their behavior and expect some level of compliance with societal norms.

6] No, you do NOT have the right to think, do, and say whatever you want without being questioned.

7] Do not blame the university president, security, local law enforcement, nor the business who sold the guns. Only one person is responsible. Nobody else could have prevented it.

8] Do not blame the guns. Cho also had knives and posed with a hammer in attack posture.

9] For perspective, keep in mind that Muslim extremists kill this many people almost DAILY.

10] What the world needs now is love, sweet love. That's the only thing there is just too little of.

How did I miss that?

Although I went to school back in the days of buckboards and outhouses, I have tried to keep up with trends and social change. Not keep up in the sense of being trendy--just aware of the trends. I will never wear sagging pants nor shorts that come to my ankles. But I need help concerning something much more important than clothing trends, shifts in musical interest, gas prices, and rapidly changing technology. This change has a sneaky element. It was done on the sly and I am not sure ANYBODY has noticed it. Yes, it does have ramifications for global warming. Does anybody know the low for last night in Montgomery? I have checked several sources and they range from 38 to the mid-forties. The lowest report I have found is from WSFA which is 38 degrees. The Weather channel this morning said 39 degrees. I do not have an outside thermometer so I usually just take their word for it. However, today is not the first time I have noticed that MANY rooftops in my neighborhood and all the way up Hwy. 231 to Wetumpka had a significant amount of frost. Frost is, of course, dew that falls during the night then freezes. Now, way back when I was in school, water froze at 32 degrees. And not as soon as a thermometer said it was 32. The air had to be cooler than that or at that temp for a while to freeze water. If my house is pretty close to the geographic center of Montgomery, how can there be a fairly heavy frost when the coldest temperature of the night was 38 degrees?

I have over the years hiked, biked, and ridden motorcycles through enough varied terrain to be acutely aware that passing through a bottom at night where humidity has gathered will be several degrees cooler than an area a short distance away. But I do not live in a bottom. And Wetumpka is uphill from Montgomery. Yet there it was--everywhere--heavy frost on a morning when the coldest temperature was at least 6 degrees above freezing. Is it possible that the reported temperature--the OFFICIAL temperature--is several degrees warmer than the actual temperature? Is it possible that an airport is not the most appropriate spot to determine an accurate temperature for the surrounding area? Is it possible that most of our temperature readings are taken in metropolitan areas affected by nearby pavement and artificially heated and cooled buildings? Sure, temps are taken in small towns but not in cow pastures and wooded areas. I am solidly convinced that the "official" temperatures are often incorrect for many areas and unless the point of freezing for water has changed, today's frost makes it more than a "feeling" or opinion. How would that affect the average temperatures over the last century if reported temps are off by 6 or more degrees? Somebody PLEASE let me know if freezing has been moved to 38 or 40 degrees so I can respond to future forecast appropriately.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

For a while I was angered by the claims of pseudo-scientists and the inventor of the internet. Then I began to just laugh at claims such as "global temperatures have risen steadily throughout the 650,000 years of recorded history." 650,000 years? Where is all that history recorded? And where was it when I was in school? Did we recently dig up some weather reports showing the current temperature and rainfall for the past 24 hours from 650,000 years ago? So much of this "science" defies logic. Once I started laughing at the silly claims, I could not stop. When I began to hear about Algore feeling fine about his private planes and huge house while he flew around telling people to feel guilty about hauling their kids to school in an SUV because he buys Carbon off-sets I was rolling in the floor laughing. This is better than anything on the Comedy Network. I laughed and I laughed. Occasionally, it seemed prudent to explain to someone that I really do feel we should be good stewards of the earth. Gradually, I began to conceive a plan. I can help save the earth. It turns out that some of the companies that will gladly receive your carbon off-sets--say $5.50 per ton--use that money to plant trees which solve the problem. I have always wanted to own some timberland and now I see a way. My company will use the off-set money you send me to plant trees on my land. Now, I do not actually own the land yet. I will have to buy the land from the proceeds of your guilt. But with everybody on the bandwagon now about global warming and nobody noticing that it was FREEZING over the Easter weekend, it should not take long to have the land paid for and begin planting trees. So send your money. You will feel better. I will feel better. And Algore will have invented the internet, won an oscar and Nobel prize, and saved the planet. Everyone will feel better.

DO NOT PAY THE RANSOM!

I have just escaped the kidnappers and the first thing I want to do is post to my blog! Alright, I wasn't really kidnapped. I have been out of the country.....yeah, I was in Greece with Brad. You don't believe me? Actually, the truth is I have been caught up in a vision from the island of Patmos. That's right, I am teaching Revelation for the first time and have been reading A LOT. That does not excuse breaking my promise to submit weekly accountability reports on chasing my weight loss goal. That is not going so well. I am not giving up, but discouraged. This week will not be a good one because it is a week of celebration. That is my segue to a more fun part of this post.

Saturday, April 7, my son Mark will marry Lindsay Edwards. It has been a long time coming in many ways. I am thankful that they dated a long time and had a long engagement to allow time to be sure about their decision. Such a time is usually happy for parents. I feel doubly blessed because Mark went through a time in his life when the future didn't look so bright. He was making bad decisions and was mad at the world for the consequences he was suffering. It is very painful for a parent to watch. But prayers were answered and Mark did the hard work to turn things around. He worked harder and did without more than most people can understand. During that time he developed a relationship with Lindsay and that relationship grew during hard times. Lindsay demonstrated true, unselfish love during those times in ways that convince me the two of them can overcome any difficulty they encounter. Will they ever argue? Sure. Will they experience difficult financial times? Probably. Will they ever worry about what other people think? Well, one of them will. But I believe they love each other with a deep, mature love and that they both understand that seeking God must come first. Because of that, this weekend is a great celebration in my mind. Will something at the ceremony not go as planned? Probably. Will somebody get their feelings hurt? Possibly. Will the reception be more rowdy than most of us older folks prefer? Ummm, good chance. But at the end of the day, Mark and Lindsay will be married. And I for one will be happy....proud....content.....dancing like an old fool!

DISGRUNTLED

What comes to mind when you hear the term "disgruntled"? It is not used often, so most people think of the way the press used it so much in the 1980's--disgruntled-postal-employee--like one word. I would like to defend the USPS--but not right now. This post is to make fun of UPS and Fed Ex. By now everybody has heard that they plan to merge and be called Fed-UP. Actually, as you see in this photo the two have already merged.

This is a copy of a copy, so it is not so clear. But you can tell that a UPS truck clobbered a FedEx truck. As a postal employee, I pull for the UPS guy. The UPS folks work hard and make a little on each delivery, counting on volume to make money. The FedEX folks are elitists who rely on a great ad campaign and sales people to convince junior execs to pay double for the same service we provide--with a money back guarantee. I hope the UPS guy hits him again tomorrow. By the way, in my world UPS is pronounced OOPS.

Good Jobs/Bad Jobs

It is interesting to discuss (or hear discussions) of which jobs are really great and not so great. As I sat in the barber's chair a man came in who was very much in need of a haircut. He was even more in need of good judgement. Apparently, he does some type of yard maintenance (not that there is anything wrong with that) and that qualifies him as an expert on many, many topics. In fact, during the time I was in the shop he was the resident authority on EVERY subject that came up. That seemed unlikely enough even before he realized that I am employed by the Postal Service. For several minutes he explained to me that the USPS paid well and had great benefits. I became very confused because it seemed that he was the one who had worked for the agency for 34 years and I was the one who only had second-hand knowledge. After he rambled on and on about the need for air-conditioning in mail trucks and other topics that NOBODY wanted to discuss, I paid for my haircut and left to ponder in the solitude of my pick-up how we have a tendency to think we understand other people's work. Every job has good and bad characteristics. That has really hit home for me as we blog and the news networks continue to report about Britney's escapades. Somebody who has a job that would normally seem like a great way to earn lots of money is Larry Rudolph. Do you know who he is? You should, his name is in the news every day now. He is the manager for Britney Spears. Only now he has to try to explain her erratic behavior to the world. On Tuesday, when she again checked into a rehab facility Mr. Rudoph said "We ask that the media respect her privacy as well as those of her family and friends at this time." Of course, that was yesterday. Today she has fled another facility. Yep, that is a tough job. Could you ask, with a straight face, that the media respect the privacy of a woman who has been clubbing constantly in mini-skirts and no underwear. No doubt Ms. Spears needs help. No doubt she needs to be out of the spotlight. But Mr. Rudolph doesn't need to tell the media that. He needs to tell Britney.

Hair Styles of the Rich and Famous

So, you think Britney really shaved her head to escape the hair-strand drug test during the child-custody battle with kfed? You realize, of course, that her recently cut hair is for sale along with the clippers and a cig lighter she left behind. Kfed's lawyers can easily retrieve a strand of hair for drug tests--even if you are stupid enough to pay a million or two for the nasty stuff. Do you think she is just a child star, fallen victim to sudden fame and fortune? Here is a theory that is a little different from what most are guessing; Britney is the victim of subtle nuances of definition. What? Let me explain. Do you know the difference between class clown and comedian? The class clown is the person who will do anything on a dare. He/she is always getting into trouble but is willing to pay that price because even that draws attention and praise from a group that encourages the outlandish behavior. The comedian, on the other hand, stays below the radar and gets great satisfaction from CONVINCING the class clown that outlandish behavior is actually a great idea. Now apply these descriptions to Britney and her recent best friend Paris. What is it that makes these two best friends? Are they just alike? Hardly. Paris is sophisticated (even if she is given to some class clown tricks occasionally) and comes from a looong line of money and money-making. She clowns just enough to retain marketability. Britney has had two brief, foolish marriages. She has two children. She has a trailer-park background. They are very, very different--yet partying together regularly. Why? Maybe because Paris gets lots of entertainment from getting Britney to pull goofy stunts in public. Can you picture Paris with some of her rich friends whispering while Britney dances "I bet you I can get Brit to take off her panties and flash a crowd of paparazzi before we go home." "You think that is something? I got her to change her hair from blond to black and by the end of the night I can get her to shave her head completely!" "No way!" "Way!" "Watch this....Hey Brit, do you know that they can do drug tests using strands of hair that tell them if you have used drugs in the last 30 days? When is your custody hearing? Hey, I've got an idea....."

Nobody makes this decision and then goes for tattoo's and clubbing without some prodding.

Outside the Box

Does your employer encourage you to think "outside the box"? Have you often heard this expression and wondered "What exactly does that mean?". Perhaps the state of New Mexico can provide an example that will get you started. The New Mexico Department of Transportation is battling a problem with drunk driving. In fact, New Mexico is 8th in the nation in drunk-driving fatalities per mile driven. Some think the poverty and isolation contribute to the problem. Others cite lax enforcement. If you are an "inside the box" thinker, you probably would address the problem by providing education that makes people more aware of the dangers and creates a sense of personal responsibility. Or you might simply beef up the enforcement and take away the driving priviliges of the few who cause most of the problems. But the folks in New Mexico had just had an "outside the box" seminar so they came up with this idea; Talking Urinals. That is correct, talking urinals--I am not making this up. Technically, it is not the urinal that talks but the deodorant cake. There is actually a company that makes a deordorant cake with a motion detector that triggers a recording when a man walks up to the urinal. What he experiences is a woman's voice that is first flirty, then more stern. The voice says "Hey, big guy." I am not making this up. "Having a few drinks. Think you had one too many? Then its time to call a cab or a sober friend." And to prove that "outside the box" people have a sense of humor the message ends with "Remember, your future is in your hand."

Does it work? You bet! So far, 12 men that would have driven while drunk have died of a heart attack in the bathroom of a dark bar and will never be a threat to innocent families again. O.K., I made that part up. The actual result has been that several of the talking deodorant cakes have been stolen. That proves beyond a shadow of doubt that a man is too drunk to drive if he is drunk enough to reach into a urinal, remove a talking deodorant cake, put it in his pocket, and walk out. This has had the unexpected benefit of making enforcement much easier. When a car is stopped and the driver steps out, if the officer notices that his pocket is wet and a woman seems to be talking from "down there", the driver is immediately arrested and no further sobriety tests are needed.

So remember, think "outside the box". You may be saving lives!

Check-in for Week 7

Current weight--193
I am still not pleased with my lack of discipline and the slow results BUT I have lost 9 pounds in 7 weeks. That is slowly plodding in the correct direction. Plodding is sooo boring. I have to remind myself that when the weight was added, the rate was less than a pound per month so taking it off at a pound per week is probably good.

That's not Her Job

Pat works the drive-through window at Hardee's on Perryhill Road. She is a hard worker and if I were looking to hire a person for a job that did not require lots of education or polish, I would certainly consider her. She knows me now, and begins to gather a spicy chicken biscuit and senior coffee when she sees me coming--$1.63--even with our ridiculous 10% sales tax. Today I rounded the corner from the speaker to see a late model Dodge truck sitting in the drive-through lane. Nobody was in front of him and there was about 30 yards between him and the window. Since his rear window was heavily tinted, I could not see the driver. In the 25 degree morning air, his exhaust vapor indicated that the truck was running--just not moving. The employees were waving and slapping the glass at the window. I was unsure if they were attempting to get the attention of the other driver or me. Should I drive around him? I tapped the horn lightly. Nothing. Finally, the ladies got the door open next to the drive-through window and started toward us. I lowered my window as they stopped next to the truck ahead of me. They tapped his window and said to me "He is sound asleep--he has fallen over on the seat." For a moment that scared me--has somebody had a heart attack or stroke? Then as they knocked harder on his window, he popped up. He was smiling broadly--obviously embarrassed. I don't know if he had a wild Friday night or maybe was just getting off work but he apparently passed out completely in just a minute. Pat said the line had bee moving so he did not sit in one spot more than a couple of minutes before falling asleep. Is is comforting that he is now too sleepy to hold his head up AND eating but still driving?

Two Great Tastes!

Hey! You got Salmonella in my Peanut Butter! You got Peanut Butter in my Salmonella! MMMM, Two great tastes that taste great together! I wasn't too upset when the Popeye food was infected. Then when it was Taco Bell, that was too close to home. But Peter Pan peanut butter? Come on. There has to be some kind of terrorist behind this. We have created a gigantic Homeland Security agency and Emergency Management teams in every county and still our peanut butter is not safe? I would move to Mexico right now if the Global Warming/Ethanol is better than oil crowd had not pushed the price of corn so high that nobody can afford a tortilla.

What does that mean?

The Dixie Chicks won FIVE grammys last night including album of the year for "Not Ready to Make Nice" and best Country Album. The trio certainly has talent and has produced lots of good music. And it ultimately doesn't matter to me who wins a grammy except for what it says about our culture and those who are attempting to define who we are. You may have mixed feelings about the Chicks verbal attacks on the president and our country's stands while touring on foreign soil. I respect the right to think and say whatever you wish. But it concerns me that not only this group but so many who achieve fame via music or athletics begin to take themselves so seriously and use the microphone to push an agenda that is poorly thought out. Again, that is the right of any individual in our country, thank God. But the attitude displayed by the title of their winning title demonstrates that those on the far left who regularly demand tolerance of all idealogies are not really as tolerant of those who differ from them as they pretend. Maybe Ms. Maines will run for office now that we can all get alone. I watched some of the grammys show and it was a pretty good oldies show, but not so impressive.

Weighing In

Good news, bad news. The bad news is that I am one pound heavier than last week. The good news (besides the list of excuses) is the power of accountability. It is REALLY difficult to log on and post that I have backed up. In fact, it is very tempting to be dishonest about the numbers or just ignore my promise to post a weekly update until the goal is reached. Not wanting to live with either of those options, I am putting the disappointing truth in cyber-space for all to see and feeling the motivation to do better. Next weeks numbers will be so amazing that you will think I caved in to the dishonest option.

Who's Yer Daddy?

I never had relations with that woman--Anna Nicole Smith (aka Vickie Lynn Hogan)--and I am NOT the father of her 5 month old child. Making that claim apparently places me in the minority, not only in the USA but also world-wide. Have you heard this; Prince Frederick von Anhalt, the husband of Zsa Zsa Gabor is the latest to claim paternity of Anna Nicole's child. I realize that the child is probably going to end up with a sizable trust fund from her deceased 90 year old stepfather's estate, but would you even CLAIM to have had an affair with a drugged up, air-head, gold digger in order to attempt to gain control of money that is still in a court battle where, not only is the one who earned the money deceased but now both litigants (stripper/trophy wife and her stepson) are now deceased. What a mess!

It is really sad and normally I would not ridicule someone who has just died but in this case, the woman relished attention and did little to disavow the notion that she had the intelligence of a child and the body of Marilyn Monroe on steroids. Her bodyguard/nurse said he found her unconcious in her room at he Hard Rock Hotel. How could he tell? I have seen her on TV recently and she seemed comatose during every interview. Does Trimspa do that to you? I will keep the fat, thank you. It is sad and disturbing that so many men--very diverse men--claim to be the father of the child--meaning they are proud to have been that intimate with a woman who is drugged out at a Hard Rock Hotel while her 5 month old child is in the Bahamas being cared for by the mother of a friend.

The sad and outlandish facts about Anna Nicole's life and death could be discussed at length, but I will quit with one more humorous tidbit. The doctor performing the autopsy is Joshua Perper. That's right, she is being examined by Dr. Perper. The results are not in--autopsies are done at 10, 2, and 4.

Stupor Bowl

Well, the Stupor Bowl is almost over. No, it didn't end in the rain last night. It drones on and on with every channel showing camera shots of rain against the dark sky. As much as I have tried to avoid it for years, the super-hype bleeds into the lives of the most avid non-pro-football-fan. Do football fans really need 37 hours of pre-game stories about every medical condition of every player, their families, and anybody remotely connected? Do they really need recipes to prepare for watching the game? How many times do they need to be told about the importance of two black coaches making it to the super bowl? Do they really need CBS to trot out Katie Couric? Please! What does Katie have to do with football? Sure, she has the legs of a lineman and would never have made it big on the Today show if they had not CONSTANTLY shown camera angles that highlighted her legs, but football? You think I'm kidding about her legs? How are her ratings doing sitting behind the anchorperson's desk? Watch Fox or any of the news networks and tell me nobody has noticed how prominent legs are in camera angles. And what was Katie's story? Racial bias against the family of LAST YEAR'S super bowl MVP. And about that minor part of all this--the game, I have a comment. Keep in mind, I did not watch one minute of any of this yesterday or last night. It is all being replayed this morning while I would prefer to be watching meaningful news. The game. What it is all about, right? Basically, it appears that a bunch of 300 pound men fumbling an oblong ball in driving rain for hours while many thousands sat in the rain to scream and wave signs and millions sat in a comfortable den and watched their new $2000 dollar high-definition TV provide crystal clear pictures of.....rain on camera lenses. Oh yeah, in the middle of it all, the 300 pound guys took a break from fumbling the football so a 90 pound man wearing a handerchief on his head could sing some hits from the 90"s. Hey, it is fine with me if you want to watch. Just don't EVER say anything to me about NASCAR being boring!

Funeral Thoughts

I went to a funeral Friday for the brother-in-law of my friends Torrey and Galen. He died of a heart attack at the age of 46. To someone half that age, it may seem sort of old. But to those of us who have passed that point, it seems very young. I can't imagine how young it seemed to his mother as she accepted the flag from the honor guard. Here are some random thoughts stirred by my time at the funeral;

Serving as the preacher who is expected to encourage the family and exhort us all to be prepared is a difficult task, especially if you do not know the deceased well.

Brad Sullivan is a good man.

People are kinder and talk about more important things at funerals.

Sometimes a death brings out courage that was previously unknown. The daughter, sister, and brother-in-law that spoke Friday demonstrated love and courage in three distinctive manners.

Some people are thoughtless anywhere.

It is healthy to attend a balance of funerals and celebrations.

Even though I know they are shooting blanks, it bothers me A LOT that the honor guard pointed guns toward people during the 21 gun salute.

Although I am not a military veteran, the playing of taps still gets to me.

I have learned about myself that when I attend a funeral, I feel the need to stay around and talk to people to get closer to them. O.K., not just at funerals--but it is exaggerated then.

I could never be a casket salesman. It seems terrible to take thousands of dollars from a bereaved family and utilize guilt to drive them to spend more when a simple box will do fine.

And this thought that occurs to me at all funerals--I am going to die, relatively soon. And I have reached the age that most folks would not be shocked. It is too late for me to die young.

Weigh-in

Yes, I know that nobody is really in interested in my turtle-paced pursuit of a New Year's resolution to loose weight. But I promised to report every Sunday until I reached my goal. If I get tired enough of reporting slight losses maybe I will go ahead and loose the weight and be through with it. But I do loooove sweets.

On 2/4 I weighed 195. Down one pound for the week, 7 for the year. Only 20 to go. How hard can that be?

Super Bowl Warning

According to officials in Miami-Dade Florida the Super Bowl may refer to more than the uber-hyped football game to be played on Sunday. The term may also denote the porcelain fixture located in one or more small to mid-sized rooms in your home. That is correct, the toilet that we all take for granted could become a headline item on Super Bowl Sunday when 90 million football fans realize at half-time that they have consumed more bean dip and beverages than intended and head to the head at the same time. I am not making this up. That means 350 million gallons flushed almost simultaneously. The CBS affiliate in Miami is reporting that every year during half-time of the Super Bowl plumbers are called in record numbers because pending problems succumb to the pressure of so many flushes. Of course, if Janet Jackson is scheduled to perform, the flushes may be staggered into the third quarter. Obviously, you can't go during commercials because that is, by far, the best part of the Super Bowl. My advice is "go early". Who knows there may be lots of folks with the same instructions as Baron--floating newspaper in the toilet. If the terrorists were really smart, they would target the nation's sewer system.

Why live in Alabama?

Why would anybody live in Alabama? How do most people choose where to live? If you could live anywhere in the world for the next 30 years, where would you choose? I live in Alabama primarily because I have accepted life as presented to me as a child. A quick explanation; I was born in South Georgia to poor sharecroppers who made a bold move to "town" for a regular job. I grew up poor and did not see any of the world outside the southeast and not much outside Georgia. My parents decided for me that I would attent Alabama Christian College (now Faulkner) because it was 1) a Christian school and 2) close to Georgia. Very soon after beginning college I realized that "all the money" I had saved from my career at Reeves Construction Company (as in Dan Reeves family) over the summer would not last long. As I entertained finding a job in Montgomery, the opportunity to work part time at the USPS came along. I competed and got the job. After one year the part-time program was terminated and I was given a choice; hit the road or work full-time. I chose full-time, began working 50 hours per week while taking 19 hours at college and dating. I slept.......well, mostly in class. The job was secure, paid reasonably well, and I liked Montgomery so LaWanna and I were married and made a home here. The rest, as they say, is history. That does not mean that, as an adult, I haven't considered other places. Here is a picture of a region that pretty much speaks for itself as to why I stayed here.

Minnesota in December. That was a month ago, before it got really cold. No thanks.

Check-in, Week 4

196

I've lost six pounds so far in January which is not great but going the right direction. I will be at 175 before mid-year.

GoStats

I can not resist posting about this discovery! Reading, evaluating, and guessing about the information provided by this service has become more fun than posting and reading blogs. It is fun to see that someone has found my blog by searching for "individuality" of "Wayne Spires" or "Roxy Wishum", then returned over and over. While I can not identify the reader, there are lots of clues and sometimes it is obvious. Other times I do not have a clue--well one clue which is just enough to keep me digging. Who do I know in Ozark, Mo.? To my Canadian reader, welcome, eh. To the Malasians who keep finding me via the dating website--give it up. I am married to a fox. O.K., send a picture and I will think about it. Just kidding, honey! It is also fun to see the trends concerning days and times when the traffic is heaviest. Some of you should be working. And one of you should have been at church. More fun will come my way as a result of this post because I am going to make up labels just to create traffic from searches. To do that I will insert sentences like these. Paris Hilton has gone wild. Britney Spears buys panties. Hiliary Clinton is a man. Barack Obama wets the bed. The war in Iraq has been won--thank you, George Bush. This is the naked truth. Man, this is going to be wild fun.

Break Time!

As I made my way through beautiful downtown Wetumpka a couple of days ago, spreading cheer from office to office, I was about to enter the office of the city attorney when someone called out "Sir, sir, excuse me!". I stopped to see a young man (mid to late 20's) and his wife (I assume) approaching me. I had already spotted them in the parking lot next door near their parked Astro van and noticed that they seemed a little out of place. Why? Well, they were young and clean-cut. They were reasonably fit looking. They just did not look like Elmorons. But they did look a little disoriented. "Excuse me" he said "Is this the Post Office building?" I had to think a moment how to answer the question. You see, the large, square, white marble building used to house the Post Office before it was outgrown and a new building was constructed on Ft. Toulouse Road near the Wal-Mart. Not only that, but the building where they were parked has carved into the stones on front "UNITED STATES POST OFFICE" and is commonly referred to as the "old post office". Since community groups often have meetings there and advertise the meeting place as "the old post office", the answer could be yes or no depending on what exactly they were looking for. When I asked questions to clarify, it became obvious they wanted the USPS, not the old building. Unfortunately, the lady they asked in the courthouse across the street did not get the clarification and had sent them to this building. Having been thus reassurred that this was the post office and with the name prominently displayed on the front of the building AND with mail collection boxes still located in the parking lot, they had set out on their quest to complete change-of-address cards to their new address in Elmore County. By the time I happened along they had tried EVERY door all the way around the building. You have to use your imagination to picture the scene; they have tried all doors and found them locked, there are NO lights on in the building, and the only car in the parking lot is the one they drove there. What do you suppose his next statement to me was? "All the doors are locked and I can't get anybody to the door. Is everybody on break?" WHAT? Is everybody on break? Man, you have been listening to too many late night comedians. Do you really think we lock the doors, turn out the lights and lay down on mats like kindergartners for a nap at 10:00? Do I look like a state employee? Do you think there is EVER a time the phone is not ringing with some idiot complaining about receiving or not receiving some piece of junk mail? Have you EVER been to ANY post office where there is not a line of impatient, uneducated people asking for a special favor from one of the two window clerks doing the work of four window clerks? Do you HONESTLY think we have a time that everybody can just lock the doors of a large facility and take a break? Then you tell me you have moved twice and would like me to tell you where your mail is? Brother, you have moved to the right place because you really are an ELMORON!

Check-in for week 3

Boy, I really hate to do this. But I said I would check in every Sunday until I reach my goal. This week I did not loose a single pound. Well, literally, I lost and gained several but the net result is the same weight as last week. All the excuses about Tammy's cherry dump cake and LaWanna's chili and schedule conflicts with running boil down to the same thing; lack of discipline. I am so ashamed. It is a good thing there was not any ice cream to go with the hot cherry dump cake or I surely would have gained weight.

I will do better. Really.

Fun with Statistics

The most observant readers (you know who you are) of this blog may have noticed an addition this week. Yes, that little Go.stats counter was added a couple of days ago. I looked at some counters when I first set up my blog but decided after reading how you can start at whatever number you choose (wow, this blog has had 47,322 visitors and has only been up 6 days?) that it was mostly for show. After reading a comment on one of the blogs I visit frequently, I realized that useful data can be mined from some counters. So I signed up for the FREE version of Go.stats. Dave Ramsey would be so proud of me. Allow me to say that even the FREE version of Go.stats is VERY interesting. When I sign in, it gives a summary of hits on the blog in numerical and graph form. But it really gets interesting when plundering the detailed reports. You can see what page your reader left to arrive at your site. I was not surprised to see that the top "previous page" was Laura's blog. Thanks, Laura, for the hook-up. But was educated to see some of the sites listed as the "previous page". I knew some folks were reading and never commenting--which is fine--because sometimes a person will comment face-to-face about a post when I had no idea they even were aware that I had a blog. That occurred a couple of times after the "Echo" post because it resonated with several people. But the Go.stats data reveals some other readers I was completely unaware of previously. You can also track how many arrived at your site via a search engine, which search engine, and what the search term(s) were. That info made me aware that some of the folks that found my site by googling "Wayne Spires" are still checking in for updates. Very informative. It offers much more, for instance, the IP address of each computer from which someone has visited my site. That's riiiiight, I've got your IP address so you are not as stealthy as you thought. It is too late to log off now, I already have it. And, I am not making this up, Go.stats even provides me with data about your computer, such as monitor size and resolution settings. Yes it does! Turns out, not many with really large monitors visit my blog. You know what that means. No, me either, but it is fun and amazing data. It does make you stop and go hmmmm to think that an old guy who grew up on a dirt road could stumble on that much info, just think what a tech-savy hacker could do. Well, I have nothing to hide. So, if some hacker is looking around my computer right now, leave a comment. I already have your IP address.

Sure, It's Easy for You!

Nolan Shaheed recently set the world record for men age 55-59 in the indoor mile. Now, before you tune out and discount his accomplishment as "so what? He beat some other old guys" listen to the rest of the story. His time was 4:42:89. Think about it a minute. Can you run a mile in 8 minutes? 6 minutes? I will be surprised if I have any readers of any age who can run a mile in under 5 minutes. Nolan is 57. How does he do it? Was he just born fast? Maybe, but listen to his regimen; he runs 12 miles a day, six days a week, and eats only one meal a day after he trains, fasting three to four days out of the week in the summertime. What is the result of this single-minded obsession? He weighs 127 pounds--the same as when he was in High School.

Yes, but that is probably all he does, right? Nope. Nolan is very accomplished at jazz trumpet. He has played with Diana Ross and Stevie Wonder and at one time was the lead trumpet player for the Count Basie Orchestra.

I do not know much else about him, but he makes my efforts seem pretty small. I am not going down the road he has chosen, but may take some inspiration to move in that direction just a little.

Reluctant check-in

Week 2 of Resolution #1

Weight--200

Change-- 0

Net change- -2 lbs.

Diet---D

Exercise--C

Did well until the end of the week. Friday we used a Christmas gift card at Outback and Saturday evening we ate BUFFET at Down the Street to celebrate the retirement of a co-worker. Good times--good food--too much. Even with the diagnosis of bronchitis, though, I did run my 5 mile out-and-back on Thursday to Ft. Toulouse WITHOUT WALKING. Sometimes exercise has a delayed pay-off. I will still make the goal by the end of June.

Wayne's World Revisited

I have enjoyed the on-line conversations about Wayne's position, stance, and what happens next. I sincerely appreciate those who found my blog via internet search on this particular story and took time to comment. Your comments are always welcome, whether we agree or not and regardless of the number of words needed to express yourself. Really. Glad to hear from you. Originally, I heard of this story from Rick and Bubba. Just as I arrived at work they were beginning to explore a story someone had e-mailed to them about a guy sitting on a tower. They were very interested and Bubba astutely noted that the tower in the photo looked like a ham radio tower, which has been an issue with him and past Home Owners Associations. Unfortunately, I had to go into work before the story developed fully. When I got home I checked the Advertisers website and read the story. It looked to me like Wayne (based on the article information) was on shaky legal ground and choosing a wacky way to get his story out. Well, the method worked--at least to a point. The story did spread quickly and became fodder for water fountain conversations (sorry those of you who carry bottled water missed out).

Here are a few thoughts as I have reflected on these events in the last few days. While I do not personally know Wayne, I feel safe in saying we have both similarities and differences. I admire his dogged determination to make his point regardless of what others may think and say. I am amazed at his temerity demonstrated by staying put through two tremendous storms. I am impressed that his family has rallied to support him with physical presence at the tower and by posting information on-line. Based on the information I have (which I say again, is limited--there is much I don't know), Wayne's cause seems based on a questionable foundation. Here is where the story interfaces with the book I am currently reading (Prayer, Does it Really Make a Difference? by Phillip Yancey) and the thoughts spurred by that book. Yancey refers to incidents of Abraham, David, Moses, Job, and even Jesus praying in a way that seems like negotiating with God. There are lots of examples but the one that stands out in my mind now is Abraham asking God to spare Soddom and Gomorrah. He starts with a high number of righteous for whom God would spare the cities, then when God agrees he pushes the envelope and offers a smaller number until he gets down to 10. For 10 righeous souls the cities will be spared--agreed. We now know of course what God knew then, that there not 10 righteous folks in all of the two cities. What stands out is Abraham kept asking for more and God kept agreeing. In fact Abraham never reached a number where God said "No, you are asking too much". What if Abraham had asked God to spare the cities for 2 righteous souls? We can speculate but never know because he did not ask. What strikes me is how often I fail to ask. Not just of God but also of others. The idea of meekly and humbly accepting life as it comes to you is a strong "life commandment" from my upbringing that asking for a lot seems........wrong. Yet, God wants to give. Friends and family want to give, up to a point. So, somewhere past the mid-point of my life I still have to weigh whether to risk being the pesky person who always wants his way against waiting to be asked for my opinion or preference while watching the acceptance of an inferior choice because someone had the "temerity" to ask. And ask again. I am still thinking about it. But win, loose, or draw I respect Wayne's toughness.

National Champions

Hey, Ohio State, welcome to the SEC! Teams like Ohio State, USC, and Texas would NEVER go undefeated for 19 games in the SEC. Say what you like, 41 to 14 is a whuppin!

Excuse Me

Hey, you up there in the SUV. Yes, you, lady. What are you doing? It is 6:30 a.m. and people are on their way to work. Sometimes we like to swing through the drive-through for a Hardees biscuit and cup of coffee TO GO. TO GO is the operative term. Now, there are no posted rules and anybody can use the drive-through window. Certainly, I am not in charge and can not kick you out of line. But if you would take a moment to observe--or just stop and think of somebody besides yourself--it would surely occur to you that this is not the best way to 1) place 13 individual orders for everybody in the office (make that steak biscuit dark and not too much bacon in the low-carb bowl) 2) pay with a debit/credit card that requires passing the card through the window to be swiped, receiving the clipboard to sign the receipt, waiting til the overworked woman returns to the window to ask for a pen, passing the clipboard back, receiving the card back--while making sure to raise and lower the SUV window between each transaction because it is a frigid 67 degrees 3) individually open and inspect each order to be sure it is correct 4) place the receipt carefully in your purse so you can spend another 30 minutes at work settling the tab 5) find Rick and Bubba on the radio before pulling halfway out of the drive lane. If you KNOW your order is going to take 17 minutes, PLEASE park and walk inside rather than hold up the 11 pickup trucks holding blue-collar guys who just want a quick cup of coffee and a biscuit. We could ALL go through the drive-through while your order is compiled. And by the way, your friends will not tell you, but if you park down in the corner of the parking lot and walk in, maybe your butt wouldn't be that big. If that is just too much, maybe you could hang a sign on the speaker saying "Insensitive jerk in line--prepare to wait" and the other 11 of us would gladly park and go inside. If it helps, the spicy chicken biscuit and senior coffee is $1.63 including tax so you can have the exact change ready. Done right, it takes about 35 seconds.

Weighing in

I promised to follow up on my public resolution by weighing in each Sunday until my goal is reached. Here is week #1.

Weight-- 200

Change-- Lost 2 lbs

Exercise --"B"

Diet-- "D"


Summary; Bad news--only lost 2 pounds
Good news--really only a half week because I considered the first few days
holiday time and frankly was lazy until Wednesday--Yeah, bowl games!
Good news--even at only 2 pounds per week, I could arrive ahead of schedule.

Wayne's World

This gentleman is Wayne. Wayne Spires lives in Wallsboro. He is 61 and has been sitting in a chair tied to a 68 foot ham radio antenna for 4 days. He says he is not coming down until he gets his way. Rick and Bubba are reporting on their morning radio show that Wayne is from Wetumpka and Montgomery folks would probably say the same. But in Elmore County, Wallsboro is a separate community from Wetumpka. This distinction is important because Wallsboro is unincorporated. That means that if the residents of River Falls, where Wayne lives, wants to pave the roads in the neighborhood they have to pay for it directly rather than via taxes. Now, the reality is that this method is cheaper than paying property taxes over several decades but can mean a lot of money all at once. It turns out that River Falls has a neighborhood association. There are different versions of the agreements reached by the residents of River Falls related to....well, everything. Homeowner's associations provide plenty for us to debate. Should you be able to change the oil in YOUR car in YOUR driveway? Should your neighbor be allowed to have 23 Rottweilers? On and on we could go. It boils down to how much will you pay in dues and how many property rights are you willing to forgo in order to protect your property values. Beyond the debate over homeowner's associations, Wayne's stance (so to speak) brings up other questions. Mainly, is sitting on a radio tower a logical way to resolve differences of opinion? Sure, Wayne will get lots of attention and if he stays up there tonight during the thunderstorms the debate may well be over tomorrow. The publicity will, no doubt, reflect badly on the neighborhood and the association. Some of Wayne's neighbors resent being forced to fork out $1500 to pay a share of paving the roads and they support his protest effort. No doubt others are embarrassed and will avoid Wayne for years to come. Since he has already lost a court case on the issue, the outcome is unlikely to change. But he sure has a determined look.... and lots of gear.

I Hereby Resolve.......

It is that time of year again; to begin the process of deciding what resolutions you will be breaking throughout the year. Lots of folks scoff at the idea of New Year's Resolution. I have been among the scoffers. I am making some serious resolutions that will require lots of work and prayer but will not share all those on-line. I am posting for all the world to see, the worn-out resolution to loose weight. "Wait, Roxy, wasn't that a resolution last year?" you might ask. Yes, it was and yes I did. I may loose some of the same weight this year?! I did well on this goal last year for a while. Much of that success was due not to technique, but rather to motivation. This goal was tied to another goal of competing in the Alabama Senior Olympics and doing well enough to qualify for the national competition in Louisville, Kentucky in July, 2007. I made that goal and would like to tell the story in a way that makes the feat seem impressive but there were witnesses. My family, including son-in-law and almost daughter-in-law, dutifully sat in the blazing sun all afternoon on a Sunday to watch me plod around 1500 meters. It was pretty sad. However, I qualified (since there was so little competition) and was on track (so to speak). I scheduled three more races during the mid-to-late summer as motivation to push myself in training. ALL of those had to be missed because of schedule problems and I became discouraged, eventually giving up on the goal of going to Kentucky. Then my co-workers all worked together to make it possible for me to have vacation time the week of July 4--when the 1500 meter races will be held. That is a significant sacrifice by some and I was touched. Now, I have to more or less start over on conditioning and speed work to get ready.
All that to say I have a motivating factor.
And specific performance goals.
And a specific target weight.
And a detailed plan.
So here is the resolution I am sharing and invite you to help hold me accountable for;
I WILL loose 27 pounds from 1/1/2007 to 7/1/2007.
That's it. The motivation is there. The understanding exists that a "renewing of the mind" is required. The tasks that must be completed each week are clear. And the follow-up accountability is this; I will post a brief message on this blog each Sunday until the goal is reached. Today 202 pounds. Next Sunday.........? We'll see.
Comments are welcome and need not be praise and platitudes. I can take the jokes and wisecracks and use them as motivation. Take your best shot.
What is YOUR resolution.

Say What?

I need the help of sophisticated and well-read bloggers. There are many questions to be tackled, such as "What is the meaning of life?" and "How do we end the war in Iraq?" and "Who will be the head coach at Alabama?". My question is closer to home. This morning on the way to work, I was passed by a vehicle with a tag reading "P2MUCH". I am not making this up. Why? I am not asking why he has this problem--it may be too much water or coffee, it may be a prostate problem--whatever. The question is "Why pay $50 to have a vanity plate made with this proclamation?" I say 2MUCHINFO!

IMPROVE YOUR LIFE IN 2007

The December 25-January 1 issue of U.S. NEWS & WORLD REPORT shouts from the cover "50 Ways to Improve Your Life in 2007". I have subscribed to this magazine for several years because it seems to present a balanced view of news around the USA and to a lesser degree, worldwide news. TIME and NEWSWEEK seem like copies of each other and are very liberal in their view of sociology, religion, politics....everything. So I was excited to see 50 suggestions to improve my life in 2007--hey, that's NEXT WEEK! Well, there are a few good ideas among the 50, but many are just ridiculous. I doubt I will do anything about Darfur, share my ride, get rid of my leaf-blower, turn off my dryer, or drive with biodiesel. Number 42 caught my eye; see a glacier before it melts. Oh brother! More global warming nonsense. Thanks, Al Gore. Now, let me be clear--I think seeing a glacier is a GREAT idea. I was blessed to take a boat tour of Glacier Bay near Seward, Alaska a few years ago and it is amazing. The sound of ice breaking off the glacier (birthing) is amazingly loud, like a rifle shot. The sheer size of some glaciers is just staggering. I am sharing some pics at the top of this post to offer a glimpse of the beauty of glaciers. My problem with the article is that the gist is "Thousands of glaciers will go the way of the dinosaurs." Since they quote "one of the world's leading glaciologists", I suppose I have to admit that my qualifications to offer an opinion are severely limited. I didn't even know glaciologist was a career field. I feel pretty stupid right now. Maybe I should not have laughed at their statement that the famous park in Montana might have to be renamed Unglacier National Park. Also, who am I to scoff at the claim that you can see "three quarters of a million years of climate history" in the layers of some glaciers.

Well, I don't get my info from the leading glaciologists because I don't know any. However, I do know the creator of the universe and He told me that he is still holding the world together and that I don't have to worry about it. What a relief! You know, maybe the Earth's surface will warm up a few degrees and we may loose some glaciers. I can't see where that would be all that bad and since I have already seen some, I will continue to drive, use a clothes dryer, and use internal combustion engines. And deodorant. I believe I'll just come up with my own New Year's resolutions. Maybe I'll share some. Enjoy the pictures.

Excuse Me, Your Goof is Showing

Maybe it is just my upbringing or genetics. I am not sure why, but I find LOTS of humor in goof-ups. Most of the time your goof-ups are funnier to me than mine. But regularly I find mine to be very funny also. Today I saw somebody else goof-up and then make the classic "I am so embarrassed-maybe nobody saw me" face. In fact, if she had reacted more calmly, I may not have noticed. The event occurred in Historic Downtown Wetumpka, on East Bridge street. In fact, it was only about 30 yards from the beautifully arched bridge over the Coosa River. For this story, let's call this middle-aged lady LaVerne. I have no idea what her real name is, but that seems to fit her and I would not bet against it for her actual name. When I passed by, LaVerne was already at her car attempting to open the driver's door with her key. I do not know how long she had been working on this task, but just as I passed she seemed to give up and throw her hands in the air. That caught my attention and I looked at her just as she made this face > - ; Well, maybe not exactly that face but is was a face that clearly said "This is soooo embarrassing!". She never said a word but in seconds her mistake was evident. She walked around the "Desert Sand" Caddilac Catera she was trying to open, unlocked the door to her "Desert Sand" Honda Accord and quickly drove off. To be fair, the cars were exactly the same color and were parked next to each other but.....how could LaVerne go through the process of choosing a Honda Accord and then mistake it for the Caddy that zigs? If this gets out, Caddilac will have a hard time selling Catera's. Who wants to spend that much money on a car to impress your friends if LaVerne can't even tell it from an Accord? Sitting next to each other! LaVerne is probably a very spiritual person and one "sort of brown" car is just the same as the next to her. I wish I had gotten there in time to hear her conversation with herself. "Why won't this blasted key turn?" "I wish I had never let Bert talk me into buying this....what kind of car is this?" Now she walks aroung to the back. "Catera....Cadillac!.....I don't have a Cadillac! Oh shoot, that's my car right there. I hope nobody saw me. Hey, there's Kenny Rodgers! I hope this is not his Cadillac!"

I love Wetumpka.

ECHO....echo......echo

There is an echo in the house. No, it hasn't always been there. Yes, it is there all the time. Do I like it? Well, I have mixed feelings but mostly, no, I don't. Why is there an echo? Because of the empty room. You see, Mark has moved out and is now renting the duplex where Baron and Laura lived before their house was built. So this bedroom across the hall from the master bedroom suddenly seems cavernous and with the hardwood floors and no furnishings the echo is noticeable--shocking even. Everytime LaWanna or I walk down the hall the echo reminds us that another of our children is gone from the nest. And just as when each of them was born, the nest will never be the same. Why don't I like the echo? Well, the first level of feelings is easy to explain; there is a room that needs to be cleaned, painted, and transformed into DAD'S OFFICE. That will be nice after completion but represents work, time, and expense first. And there are lots of irons in the fire already. The deeper level of feelings is more difficult to communicate. Mark has left before, once when he was very young and tired of the constant preaching of his old man. Once he left in the middle of the night in handcuffs. Neither of those times caused mixed feelings--at least not a mixture of good and bad. Everything I felt was bad. He was not ready for the world. I had not done my job as a father and he was not finished becoming a man. It is different now. Vastly different. Mark is mature and has demonstrated a couple years worth of discipline and spiritual growth. He is smart and fun to be around. He is no longer the angry kid thinking the establishment is against him and his parents are just trying to keep him from having fun. He has learned some valuable lessons the hard way--which I do not recommend for most, but can be very effective. How did all this growth occur? I wish the answer were that his mom and I demonstrated outstanding parenting. But the truth is prayer, prayer, and more prayer seems to have convinced God to pull Mark closer to himself. God did not blind Mark with a light on the road to Damascus or Columbus but rather blinded him with the unconditional love of a beautiful young woman named Lindsay who will become Mrs. Mark Wishum on April 7, 2007. That will be a great Easter weekend. So the feelings about Mark and the direction of his life now are good--very good. Still being a dad is a little like running a marathon. During each you are giving all you have and at times you become sure you can't keep going. Then somehow you do. It is not pretty, but you press on with all your might until you cross the finish line. You have mixed feelings immediately and feel completely used up. But after enough time passes, you think back and convince yourself you could have done better.

So, Mark, march on son. Become a better man, husband, and father than your dad. You can do it. I believe you will do it. I still pray for you and Lindsay and your unborn children and grandchildren because, while I can fill the room and rid the house of the echo only your continuing to become the man God wants you to be will quiet the echo in a dad's heart.

I love you and I am proud of you.

Prayer

I've been thinking....(insert witty remark here)......how does this prayer thing work? I wish my blog reached hundreds or thousands so I could get lots of feedback, but here is my question; If "the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much" then do the fervent prayers of two righteous folks avail twice as much? Is God twice as likely to answer in the affirmative if twice as many ask? Would 30 people praying for my healing increase my odds to the 30th power? If so, shouldn't I be making more righteous friends? After all, I am reaching the age of lots of health problems. O.K., all those questions are mostly about how God listens and responds. Here is one that is more about our end; what percentage of prayers would you guess concern physical healing? What percentage involve thanksgiving? Do you pray for specific spiritual growth/healing as much as physical healing--for yourself or others? Why is it easier to pray for a person's cancer to be removed than to pray that his pride or lust be removed? Why is it easier to ask for others to pray for my body than for my spirit?

I know that is a lot of questions and I don't really expect lots of answers. But it is what is on my mind today. And it is my blog.