Sean Connery's New Year!!

I love that scene in The Untouchables where Connery has been shot all to hell and is lying on his floor bleeding to death when Kevin Costner finds him. For those of you who have seen the movie more than once you know Connery asks the question, "What are you prepared to do". Obviously he was referring to what lengths would Costner's character go to stop Al Capone. But I like the same question for New Years resolutions. What are you prepared to do?
Resolutions are a great learning tool. They show you how much you really care or don't care. Who hasn't made the declaration that this year I am getting in shape. Well I did. I am now round. That is a shape is it not? Of course to accomplish this goal I had to do another one of my perpetual resolutions. I quit smoking in August. Good for me but I had that one on the list every January 1st since 1987 so that shouldn't even count. How about spend more time with the family? I managed to do that one year and ended up divorced. I may be better in small doses.
Perhaps the answer to the question is in the question itself. Why make a promise to yourself about something unless you are prepared to follow through? Are you not worth your best effort? Of course you are. So why not be prepared to follow through this year? Rather than just put the usual crap down on your resolutions list, put down things you really want to change. And then prepare to do so. (Say it with a Scottish accent, sounds more powerful). Execution without preparation will almost always fail. In anything. So how do you prepare for resolutions?
Luckily I have the answer. First thing is to make sure that you want what you are resolving to do. Notice I said "YOU" and not your spouse, your boss, your kids or anyone else. This is a very selfish exercise and will not succeed unless it is approached that way. Second, make sure your resolution can be measured or tracked. That is the problem with the generic "spend more time...." resolution. More time than what? Last year? You already sucked at it last year so maybe the bar should be higher. Make them something you can look at in March and see if you are succeeding. If you can't track your progress you probably aren't making any. The final tip for the resolution is by far the most important. All resolutions do not succeed on the first try. If you find on February 1st that you have blown all your New Years resolutions than turn them into 2011 resolutions and start over. Notice I quit smoking in August. Not January 1st. I tried in January but didn't make it. The only time a resolution has failed is on December 31st. Speaking of that I have to go now and cross off some that I had last year. But starting tomorrow I get to try again. Happy New Year!!!(Scottish accent)

I want ice cream.....

Have you ever wondered what it was that caused people (usually children but not always) to blurt out facts or questions about food? On many a different occasion one of my kids has shouted out "I want ice cream" without any concern of their surroundings or situation. It's as if the though just formed in the front of the brain and dropped right into the mouth. So as usual it got me to thinking, what we should call this phenomenon that afflicts our society. Nutritional Turrets.

How many times have you heard a child whisper, "You promised ice cream if we kept our mouth shut." Maybe it's just me. Or had a kid look at you and declare, "If we don't eat soon I am going to die". I have not seen any starving near death kids. Especially in the suburbs. From kids who have eaten a full meal less than 4 hours earlier. It's just the turrets rearing it's head.

This curious affliction is not limited to the youngest amongst us. One of my favorite co-workers today blurted out, "Where's our food?" during a discussion about a liquor license. Much like the poor soul who curses inadvertently at the worst times, adults seem to lose track of current conversations when they get hungry. Or say the most interesting things. At a dinner table with four couples one evening the waiter delivered a bratwurst covered with sauerkraut to the table and one of the wives said, "I could never get something that big in my mouth." The husband of said wife then turned several shades of red and grew silent the rest of the night.

I also have fallen prey to nutritional turrets. During a very elegant New Years Eve celebration several years ago a lovely blond waitress brought out a tray of appetizers. Nutritional Turrets struck as I said, "That looks good enough to eat with my hands tied behind my back." Unfortunately the waitress had already set the tray on the table and was staring right into my eyes when I completed my compliment. Judging by her reaction she did not think I was commenting on the food and she had never heard of nutritional turrets before. I was not invited back to that celebration.

Till Next.....

My plan for growing old with style.

During the last two days the number 50 has come up on several occasions. All in reference to my birthday in 2011. So it became rather evident that what I need is a plan to sail into the second half of my life with style. At least not embarrassing ,if not in style.

The first thing to address is the height of pants to chin ratio. The older a man gets, the closer to his chin his pants go. Not all at once but they creep slowly upward. Kind of like a Sans-a-belt snail. To offset this disturbing fashion trend men began carrying loose change. Twenty dollars worth of nickels, dimes and quarters will keep even a gym teachers shorts from riding up. Have you ever been in a hurry at a check out line and had a "seasoned citizen" in front of you tell the clerk, "$18.36 I think I have that" and then proceed to whip out a stack of change that could put a fleet of SUV's through a car wash? I have. And I know why. He is just keeping his pants from creeping up over his head. If it weren't for a pocketful of change he might be talking to you through his zipper.

And I also have a plan for socks and footwear. Just because I have survived half a century doesn't give me the right to wear knee high black socks with shorts. Well I have the right but looking like I escaped from a German Oktoberfest party without the suspenders is not what I'm shooting for. And shorts should not be worn with dress shoes. How men who raised kids and held jobs could leave the house dressed like that is a mystery. I did walk my dog in boxer shorts one day but that was just, well, stupid. And at least I was wearing tennis shoes.

Last but not least is my plan to eat at home a lot. There is some point in a mans life when he can no longer feel his face. Or morsels of food that reside there. Cheese can begin to look like tinsel hanging off an unshaven chin. O Christmas tree indeed. How crumbs can defy gravity and sit on a cheek for a 30 minute rant about the good old days is a scientific marvel. But they do. Not to mention the process of removing stubborn particles stuck in your teeth. The older I get the harder this task becomes. Because there are more places to hide now. My teeth will eventually look like a picket fence if they keep drifting apart.

So this is part of my aging with style plan. It is so detailed I couldn't possibly publish all of it here. And I seem to have misplaced the rest of it somewhere.

Till Next.......

Charles Karult got nothing on me.....

For those old enough to remember his "On the Road" series for CBS he used to drive across the country and report on moose in Montana or rats in Rhode Island or whatever. The last 8 days I have logged almost 5 thousand miles on the highways of our great land and have a few observations that I would like to share with you. In no particular order.

First thing I noticed is Abe Lincoln must have been one heck of a guy.Most every state I drove through tried to lay claim to him. Kentucky proudly announced he was born there. (Always nice to know where the presidents were born) Illinois is the "Land of Lincoln" just like the license plates say. Kentucky didn't say, "we suck so bad he left" so they must not be too proud of it. Because I can tell you what Kentucky is proud of. Whiskey. And a lot of it. They have a "whiskey trail" that you can go through several distilleries and see how it is made. And sample. It is a winding, no, staggering trail right through the middle of the state.

When we drove into Wisconsin it took a while to see what they hung their hat on. And then I saw it. "Wisconsin arrests drunk drivers". Boy, I bet the Chamber of Commerce is still pissed off about that one. Beats "Home of Jeffrey Dahmer" I suppose. Maybe they should go with a beer trail like Kentucky. Both states seem like they would be entertaining with a pretty good buzz on. What if the whiskey and beer trail could meet somewhere? Now that would be cool.

Which brings us to Indiana. Right in between the two states. And the state we spent the most time driving through. Shovel ready projects do exist. This is where the stimulus money should have been spent. The highways of the Hoosier state have more holes in them than a Tiger Woods alibi. It seemed to be the flattest state by far of the 6 we went in and out of so fixing a pothole shouldn't be that hard. Hoosier highway commissioner? Things are pretty bad when you look toward Kentucky with envy. For a state that bills itself as the "Crossroads of America" they might think of improving the condition of the roads. At least Kentucky will get you drunk so you don't notice. And in Wisconsin you will be driving so slow avoiding the speed traps you won't be worried about potholes. The people were very nice though. Polite and helpful.

Which leads me over to Michigan. I did get lost going to my childhood home for the third time in a row. Different route each time. Different time of day each time. Different wife laughing her ass off each time. But once I found my way home I realized how little the people I grew up with had changed. And I mean that in a good way. The area hadn't exactly turned into a scene from Blade Runner either. It was harder to keep up with the places that went out of business compared to the new ones that started up. A few of the roads had changed but I got lost on the old ones so I didn't mind. Oddly enough, I couldn't find anything about Lincoln in the state.

My apologies to the late Charles Karult. His segments were better than mine. But in my defense I didn't have a secret second life with an extra woman and a couple of kids that no one knew about. If you can pull that off then a 4 minute segment on the wombats of Walla Walla Washington is child's play. Try keeping two families happy and in the dark at the same time. Any man who can do that has skills I haven't even imagined. I bet he kept a full tank of gas in that RV at all times. Just in case he had to get "On the road" in a big hurry.

Till next........

Top 10 things Santa said on December 26th at the post Christmas party.

If we could actually attend Santa's party the day after Christmas, this is what we might here:

10. Can someone please get the word out I am lactose intolerant. I'll have gas till July again.

9. So I'm half way down the chimney and I hear "Allah Akbar". And it says I'm supposed to be bringing a spiral cut ham. Climbed right back up the chimney and into the sleigh.

8. Donner, Dasher and Cupid all got into some egg nog before we left. They got lost six times over Ohio alone.

7. How hard is it to put out a fire in the fireplace before midnight? And morons still get presents.

6. Get me another nog would ya babe? I think the elves are going to see Santa wear a lampshade on his head by the time this party is over.

5. I really don't give a crap if you shout, pout or cry. I got my own problems.

4. The elves are talking about forming a union next year. Mrs. Claus is on my ass about losing weight and getting in shape. I've got hemorrhoids from being on the sleigh for the last 24 hours and I'll I can think about is how many more kids will Brangelina adopt.

3. Overshot the landing on a roof top in Texas. Had to pay six Mexicans to re-load the sleigh.

2. Attention bored housewives: Santa is happily married. Please do not try to entice me into staying longer by dressing provocatively and talking dirty. There are a lot of houses and only one of me. And I'm not as young as I used to be. And you aren't either.

1. Miracle on 34th street? They should have seen the time I beat that trafficking across state lines beef in Utah. Now that was a true miracle.

Till next.......

If we had no winter, then spring would not be so pleasant.

Anne Bradstreet is credited with that quote. If she spent any time in the winter where I grew up she might have phrased it a little differently. Something like this,"If spring ever comes to this outpost of the North Pole I will buy everyone here a frozen margarita." You see the problem here is not that spring is not nice enough, it's just too damn late to get here. By the time the thaw begins you have given up hope on seeing the grass ever again. But those are the thoughts of someone who left on the first train out. How about those that don't see it that way? That not only tolerate the long winters here but seem to embrace them. Actually even enjoy them.
Perhaps the answer lies not in the amount of snow or the freezing temperatures at all? Could it be that the winters here don't matter because the eternal summer is in every one's heart? Very hard concept for a true cynic like me to get my arms around. The winter is not what they see. It is the salt of the earth type people who live and work here that they see. The way you can count on your neighbor to be there when you need him. The way folks up here just seem to share the idea of what's right. And even though you may disagree with each other there is no need to be rude about it. Maybe when you are warm inside the thermometer doesn't rule the world.
This week I was honored to spend time with my family and my friends from the 1970's. The same men and women who didn't try to see the rest of the world. I used to think they were afraid to get out of the upper peninsula. Now I realize I was the one who was afraid to stay. Afraid to try and make a living and be happy with the blessings I had. Because I knew I couldn't make it. Snow and cold weather didn't make me miserable, I did. Until the stupid and ignorant thoughts I had about life changed, the location of my problems didn't matter. These people are not cowardly. They are happy. What a novel concept. The same one I preach to my children and my employees. Happiness is a choice. Circumstances don't make the mood. And on and on.
So my refresher course on how to be happy is over tomorrow. I head back to the high pressure of the real world. But spring is already here for me. Green grass is on the way. Because the best way to live is with eternal summer in my heart and not worry about how deep the snow is above my boots. With all that being said and being true, I can't wait to go outside without page 18 and 19 of the LL Bean catalog on.

Till next.........

What's the hurry?

Nothing causes one to reflect back on his or youth quite like a trip home after 3 decades or so. Spending the week back in my hometown has been not only enlightening but sobering as well. Last night my oldest son and I were walking through a driving snow after dinner and he asked me what I liked about my childhood. Not a question we adults dwell upon at my age. So I was forced to think hard about what it was I liked. And the answer was obvious. Everything I hate now.

Looking back I see how everything happened at a normal pace. People talked to you slower and listened longer. When I lived here I had no pressing engagements. No reports to file. No sales projections to fill out. No budgets to adjust. No bosses to please. No employees to please. No customers to please. No pressure to surpass what I did last year or the year before.

What I did have was time. Time to grow up (wasted that) Time to make friends that last a lifetime. Time to learn basic principals to make me a better adult. Time to make a ton of mistakes and still go on to a great life. Time to learn what really matters in this world. Time to figure out that just because people are different doesn't mean they are wrong or stupid.

The way I see it the best part of my childhood was just that. I got to be a child. I was allowed to be nothing more than a kid. And that is the way it should be. In this remote part of the country some of the issues that face kids today were not here. My biggest decision on some days was golf first and then swimming or should I swim first and then play golf. Not exactly formulating a cure for cancer. So the best part of my childhood was all of it. It was a charmed life I led when I was younger. And I couldn't wait to get out of here? What's the hurry?

Hindsight can be a bitch sometimes. And this is one of them. Coming home has made me realize I need to slow down. Smile more and furrow the brow less. Remember how much fun I had as a kid and keep that in my heart. In short I never really need to leave here at all. Maybe my body will have to go back but not my mind. Not my heart. The attitude I have today is the same one I should have next week back in Georgia. Slow down. Smile more. Frown less. Give many more compliments than rebukes. Listen longer and talk less. Just like my childhood.

After all, what's the hurry?

Till next......

Road trip.....Family style

Friday we shall embark on the great American family tradition. The road trip. Myself, my wife Scarlett and her two kids Matthew age 7 and Melanie age 10 and my two boys ages 11 and 14 are making the 1200 mile drive to the U.P. of Michigan. That's Upper Peninsula for those of you who don't venture north much. The sights are beautiful and the weather is horrible. More to come on that next week but it got me thinking about some of our road trips when I was growing up. All to Chicago in the summer. To visit my Dad's sister and her family.

Chicago was fun but the lasting memories were of the car rides. We actually owned the family truckster long before National Lampoon's Vacation came out. One was a Mercury that had seats that faced each other all the way in the back. My parents figured out early that having direct opponents eye to eye for food fights out of their reach was a bad idea. A orange soda from McDonald's to the side of Dads head just outside of Green Bay put a very abrupt end to the battle. That was the last trip on I remember in the Mercury. With 4 kids only 5 years apart it was imperative for Dad to have access to the nerve centers of my older brother and I. We were the trouble makers. And he knew how to shut us down if he could reach us.

The trips were very structured. First light was always departure time. Not entirely sure why Dad chose this military tact every year but we did. I think announcing first stop at the Hilltop Inn for sweet rolls at 0600 hours was a sign he was taking it all too serious. Once Major Dad filled us with our sweet roll rations we were off. And these rolls are legendary. Frosting and butter rolling all the way down to your elbow in a race to see who drops to the floor first. Sugar coursing through the bloodstream screaming like Ricky Bobby, "I wanna go fast"as you start vibrating with anticipation about the next 7 hours trapped in the car. But the Major had a plan. About the time the roller coaster of fructose hit the bottom we were an hour outside of Green Bay. That meant one hour of silence while we slept off the sugar coma. Then McDonald's.

To say that Green Bay would be a highlight of anything is pretty sad. But it was the most anticipated part of our trip every year. Because there were no McDonald's where I grew up. There is one now but not in the 19...Well when I was growing up. Those fries. Big Mac's. Root Beer is those big cups with the fat straws. Ice cream cones. And the place had pictures of all the great players for the Packers on the walls. Made me hate them even more. Major did let us linger a little longer than usual before the next maneuver. He knew the next 4 hours were non-stop and the best chance for mayhem to occur. He was 100 percent right.

This was the half way point of the trip and that meant Bryan and I moved up to the second seat and our younger brother and sister went all the way back. With no control on the windows. Therefore the temperatures in the car. If it was sunny we would leave the windows up making for a very warm back seat. I looked back at Jimmy ,my younger brother ,one hot year and he looked like Dustin Hoffman in Papillon coming out of the hot box. I've seen wrestlers trying to lose weight in a steam room have less sweat pouring out of them. What we did could be considered cruel. It was all in good fun. They don't talk to me much but it is hard to find me. I'm sure they don't hold any grudges. Well, I'm not sure but I think they don't. Probably.

We did have some fun until the Major had had enough. I would get one warning. Which both he and I knew would be ignored. Then it was game on. Major Dad had the most unusual right arm in the world. It could stretch across the entire length of our woody station wagon and find my leg. Just above the knee. And then the screaming would begin. Modern medicine didn't know enough about it to call it nerve damage back then but that is what it was. My whole leg would go numb. For the rest of the trip and most of the next day. I would limp so bad when we got to Chicago my cousins thought I had Polio. And if he missed the knee? Any flesh will do. Just grab and crush until I came around to his way of thinking. It worked too. Till the trip home.

But our kids are very well behaved. And very scared of me already. Some part of me feels cheated not getting to be the Major. Oh well, I guess I can still get everyone up at daybreak and use military terms. Just doesn't seem the same. Maybe one of the kids will surprise me and be a trouble maker. That's the spirit.

Till next.....

Oh Christmas tree....

As those of you who follow this blog know I have been married three times. For the vast majority of those times I was very happily married. In fact the biggest arguments that occurred during my marriages almost always centered around one thing. The buying and setting up of the Christmas tree. Not so much the decorating because we usually were not speaking by that time.
Picking where to buy the tree has triggered the yule tide tryst on more than one occasion. I prefer the lots on the side of the road with the camper out back that tree dude sleeps in at night. They are too expensive or the lots smell bad or the guy selling the trees is creepy. All valid points if you are buying a Mercedes or a diamond ring. It is a dead chunk of wood. Not the Holy Grail. Ambiance is of very little importance to me at this point. Paramount is getting this damn thing tied to the roof of my car like a dead dear so I can drag it in and put it up.
Now let us assume that the tree has reached its resting spot in the house without any further discussion and is awaiting the tree stand. (You would be wrong in assuming this but go ahead anyway) Cutting off the bottom of the tree is a vital part of the process. Also it should not be done with a kitchen knife. This will lead to a cut hand and blood spilling onto the carpet. (Insert argument here) If you decide to skip this step be forewarned that your tree will be very explosive after about a week. If you have carpet do not wear socks near this tree because it can blow up with just a spark after two weeks. Once this has been accomplished the fun starts.
Getting the tree into the stand is not hard. Standing the tree up is not hard. Getting the tree to stand up and be straight to the wants, wishes, dreams and specifications of another human being is impossible. I have never been a marine but I have crawled on my belly all the way around a tree stand tightening and the loosening bolts till I felt like I was on Iwo Jima. It is also an optical illusion to think that something is straight. Trees have looked straight to me only to be told it leans to the left or the right. Or forward. Or backward. Or too straight. Yep. Too straight. What does that even mean? How is that possible?
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire my ass. You want to see something roast just tell me my tree is leaning one way or the other. Normally I am a very calm person. This peccadillo I have has been many years in the making. A little comment here or there. A dig about the tower of pizza or the floor not being level. It would be the same as me standing in the kitchen and questioning the cook about every spice and amount that went into the recipe. And then heckling them about it.
The good news is that several years ago I went to the artificial tree. And now you can hear the angels sing when I drag it out from the garage. No bald spots to cover up. No leaning to the left or the right. Just pure artificial happiness. Hark the whatever angels sing. Now if you could just get the star on the top of the tree...........

Till next........

If I get just one wish.....

Please stick with me on this post. A little longer than usual but I think it's worth it. I was watching a show about the Santa Claus industry last night. Yep, they have everything but a company dental plan. The people who play Santa do very well. And they should. Who else can bring happiness to kids in high stress situations? But what struck me was a comment from a Santa in Oklahoma or Arizona. (what does it matter) He said, "None of us get started for the money. We do it because we just want to grant one wish." So I got to thinking if I got just one wish, what would it be? Easy.

It starts with a bike ride. Back in 1990 or 1991 I was giving some of my regular customers the business about drinking water and they told me they had to do a 100 mile bike ride in the morning. "A peddle bike? Oh, how horrible." So they asked me to back up my mouth and ride with them. I didn't have a bike and hadn't been on one in at least 10 years and told them so. Well they had an extra and my machismo was on the line. So off to Wichita Falls, Texas for the annual Hotter than Hell 100. And it certainly was hotter than hell. And 100 miles. In tennis shoes and denim shorts. I chafed so bad I walked side saddle for two weeks afterward.

From this painful beginning I got the bug. I trained and bought a bike for the next year. But I knew I needed more motivation. And I had great customers that loved hearing my war stories and didn't mind donating to good charities. So I decided to get "pledges" for each mile I completed. If they donated $1 per mile and I finished they kicked $100. Pretty damn cool. All I needed was a charity. I chose Children's Medical Center of Dallas. And the donations started flowing. We are the greatest people on Earth when it comes to charity. I was over 7 thousand dollars when I called the Hospital to tell them what I had done. They said "No thanks". What?

I was stunned. But they did not want anyone using the name of the hospital to collect money. After talking to 4 or 5 different people I finally got an interview with one of the directors. I apologize but I cannot recall her name. She came out to my bar to meet me and explained that they would allow me to collect and donate the money to them on one condition. I had to visit the hospital and see what they did first hand. That's it? I told her I would follow her right then.

We started the tour on the floor where the family of the child stays. I met several Mothers and Fathers and I will never forget the look they gave me when they heard what I was doing. And I also will never forget what true courage looks like. Try and smile while your child is dying and it can't be stopped. I don't know how they did, but they did. All the arrogance and pride I walked through the door with was gone. I was doing what I was called to do. Nothing more than that. If I live to be 99 years old I won't forget that day. But it wasn't over. Not even close.

Then we went to see the kids. Some were bald from the treatment. Some were bedridden entirely. Too sick to stand. In all I met nine kids. 9 miracles. 9 reasons to never lose sight of how blessed I am. 9 faces that looked up to me and laughed at some corny jokes. 9 pairs of eyes that twinkled with life that was slowing leaking away from them. 9 beautiful, perfect children. 9 examples of innocence that didn't deserve the hand they had been dealt. 9 reasons to question God. 9 answers.

And that wish I wanted? Just let at least one still be alive. At least one.



Till Next........







Till next.......

Go play outside. You're driving me nuts!

Anyone else ever heard that? "But Mom, it's 4 below and my clothes are still wet" was my stock reply. Didn't help. Get outside now! So off we would trudge down the steps and into the snowbanks. Snowball fights and sledding were our way of killing some time and keeping our Mom from killing us. In corporate speak we call that a win win scenario. Remember that this was in the 70's when we were tougher. The elements didn't scare us. Even in elementary school.

But now things are different. The National Football League said the Vikings and Giants can't play in the snow. Growing up the Vikings played every game in the snow. And they didn't lose much. But the players didn't wear pink cleats then either. They were a lot tougher than today.

Earlier this year two quarterbacks actually started crying in front of the whole team. What happened? Loved ones killed in a cabana explosion? Nope. Family dogs were run over by Halle Barry? Nope. Something much more gut wrenching. One quarterback was benched and the other was given the starting job. And they both started crying. It actually went down just like that. What is going on to the real men in this country? I don't want my quarterback calling plays like Richard Gere in An Officer and a Gentlemen. I want John McClane from Die Hard in the huddle. Instead we are getting Terms of Endearment on the gridiron. Tammy Faye Baker should not be taking snaps for any NFL team. Maybe the Lions but no one else.

So tonight the Vikings and Giants play indoors in Detroit. Nice and warm. Hot Chocolate at halftime anyone? Marshmallows? Maybe we could watch Oprah on the big screen during the game. She could give everyone in the crowd a new car and we could all cry. Or maybe we could chug over to mamby pamby land and get some self confidence? What a bunch of jack wagons.

The only bright side to this is this will be two games in a row at Ford field that the Lions did not lose. I'm so happy I could cry. Tissue? Crybaby!



Till next.......

Grand Mall Seizure

As we barrel toward another Christmas I am once again very behind in my shopping. Normally this causes no concern at all because I can get all my gifts in a six hour span at any all mall in America. My plan has always been the same. I arrive just when they are rolling up those iron gates to let customers in. What ever happened to doors? Did they want to introduce that prison feeling to our shopping experience? I half expect to hear someone shout "roll call" when the gate rattles up. Back to the plan. I start at the overpriced mall coffee shop for a large coffee with a double shot of espresso. I pay the nine dollars plus tip for my "barista" ,who looks a lot like the kid I threw out of my bowling center last night, and head out to buy something.
Well the caffeine kicks in at about the third store. After buying my Mom and Dad a lovely set of his and hers tri-fold ladders (you never know when you need to elevate) its into Victoria Secret. Not here to buy anything but I was walking by so, anyway off to the next store. I'm picking up speed now running down the yellow brick road of the mall like Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life. "Hello Bed, Bath and Beyond, Hello you old Yankee Candle Shop, Hello you old Kiosk with crap nobody buys till Christmas eve" I shout as I run by. I'm not trying to be Jimmy Stewart running and yelling but security is usually chasing me by this time.
There are two very important questions you must ask at every store on this type of shopping program. The first is do you gift wrap? If the answer is no you are in the wrong store. The back up plan is the "when you care enough to buy but not to wrap, gift bag". I am a fan of the gift bag. The bigger the present the bigger the bag. Try fitting a king size select comfort bed in a bag. It takes a while. Plan accordingly. The second question is even more important, "What would you buy a ........?" Any good salesman should have an idea of what they would buy for the people I care most about. Wife, kids, parents, cousins and family dog should all be things he can quickly rattle off a nice gift for. Waiters offer dinner choices, it is not unreasonable to expect a salesman to give a hint on what to buy my second cousins kids in Chicago. Because let's be honest here, if you had any idea what to buy you would have done this long before now.
If luck does not break your way and you get shut out from completing your list do not get depressed. I have been at a 7/11 on Christmas morning buying that last minute Kenny G Christmas songs Cd for the perfect stocking stuffer.(I really don't know of anyone who would want this in their stocking, I am trying to be positive). And long distance calling cards show how much you care. Even if they are in Spanish. Feliz Navidad bro! Or a gallon of milk. A carton of smokes. Options abound. Remember it is the thought that counts. So go ahead and mix the lime and cherry for the extra giant Christmas Slurpee. Just get in under the tree before it melts. Merry Christmas to all and to all a microwave burrito!

Till next........

Cruising and Musing on the weekend.....

It's Christmas time and that always means cookies. I love sweets. Cookies and Ice Cream are my two favorites. And I do think there is certain etiquette that should be followed. First off if you put nuts in a cookie that doesn't normally have them you should say so. You're sitting back enjoying a chocolate chip and the BANG, you hit a something hard. It's like your own personal crying game with a cookie. Just say they have nuts. A little heads up is all I ask. Second is about the snicker doodle. A candy bar eating baker starts aimlessly drawing sketches and we name a cookie after him? And what ADD inspired mad scientist is naming flavors of ice cream these days. Pineapple upside down cake, southern blueberry cobbler and birthday cake all line the shelves. Here is a thought, if I wanted cobbler for dessert I would have ordered it. What do you put on top of birthday cake ice cream? Vanilla Ice cream flavored cake? I am all for innovation but let's be creative with things that need to be fixed.

Get me through the line at the DMV quicker and I'll be impressed. How about someone develop a speaker at the drive thru window that doesn't sound like the voice box from a chain smoking robot from the old sci-fi movies? That would be good. Or maybe we tackle a really tough issue like why do we put up traffic cones for 5 miles in both directions from where the actual work is done? Why not combine the two and have the traffic cones taste like Candy Corn? The highway department wouldn't have to go back and pick them up at the end of the day and they could be sponsored by local dentists. No cost to the taxpayer. Now we're thinking. Now that we have started thinking outside the box I can go back to my ballgame and a nice chewy oatmeal raisin cookie. Hopefully I won't end up in the fetal position in the shower when I am done.

Till next.....

If it weren't for this sense of humor I might be totally ..

useless. What do you say about a man who is incapable of the simplest household tasks? Recently I took on the chore of hanging a towel rack in the bathroom that had been unceremoniously ripped out of the wall. 15 minutes later I emerged from the garage with a tape measure and a plan of action. After carefully calculating the exact height and width of the entire wall I was off to Wal Mart for some serious hardware. I may have listened to a Bob Villa book on tape on the way to the store to help gird my loins before beginning my remodeling career.
As I walked into the store I went right to the section housing towel racks. Well, not exactly. After 10 minutes of aimlessly searching aisle after aisle I stopped a Wal Mart associate. Not really sure what he was associated with but it was not a knowledge of bathroom fixtures or their location. Two associates later I was swaying in a very deep trance in front of nine different types of towel bars. I was in serious trouble now. My measurements were of no help here. This was going to take some professional advice. I found a guy wearing a plaid shirt. Hello expert!
"Do you think you need wall anchors?" I don't know. The wall seemed perfectly sturdy to me but you can never be to sure so I said "Sure do, it's pretty loose". My plaid covered expert looked at me like a father looks at his son who has just stuck a nickel up his nose and asked for help to remove it. He wanted to help but he was pretty sure it wouldn't make a difference. He was nice enough to assist me with the selection of a sleek looking towel bar with two screws on each side. I also bought wall anchors, a can of WD40, extra screws and some stuff to repair the holes in the wall after I was through. Call me crazy but I had a hunch I would need it.
Once I returned home 2 hours later (Wal Mart is 4 miles away) it was time to hang some bar. Sounds pretty cool when you say it that way. It didn't take long to figure out you need a hammer to put in wall anchors. Well a couple of quick taps later and the anchors had disappeared behind the wall. I heard them fall all the way to the floor. Back to Wal Mart for more anchors and an entirely different type of towel bar. Back to the house, hammer in hand I proceed to knock my new wall anchors to the floor behind the wall as well. Time for plan B.
With my new towel bar I drilled two screws perfectly where they belonged. My new rack actually gleamed when I let go. I may have heard an angel sing, not sure. I proudly put my nicest towel over the bar and stood back just in time for it to crash to the floor. At this point the car that Sonny Corleone drove to the toll booth had less holes in it. And Sonny had a better chance of hanging that towel rack. I was done at that point.
So you see how lucky I am. If I were not so inept that it was funny I would be in real trouble. As it is, I merely just have to attempt handyman chores and laughter will ensue. Some assembly required? Could be, but it won't be me. I'll pay someone to put it together for me. It's my version of the stimulus package. I'm just doing my little part to keep the cash circulating. I'm sure I could put that bike together. 3 or 4 wheels. Details, details. Just let me know if you have anything that needs to be done around the house. If you need a laugh that is.

Till next......

I jumped right out of the second story window.....

and landed in the snow about 4 feet below my bedroom window. That was the winter of 1978 and the next to last one I spent at home in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We had a record amount of snow that year and it was half way up the side of the house by Christmas. Being a 16 year old with raging hormones and a girlfriend there was not a house built strong enough to keep me in on Christmas eve. Combined with the fact that I had already embarked on a good drinking career I'm not sure my parents were trying that hard to keep me home. I probably could have walked out the front door and they would have thrown gas money at me.
The reason this memory crept into my mind is an upcoming trip back to the U.P. at Christmas time for the first time in 31 years. With my wife who is born and raised in Georgia (USA not Russia) and my two sons and a step daughter and step son. All who are true southerners or Texans. (There is a difference between the two which could fill another blog post entirely) Part of the reason for this journey of insanity is to let the kids and Scarlett (Georgia wife) see where I grew up. Let them meet the absolute great people that I was privileged enough to spend my childhood with. Experience a different part of the country, different weather and different accents eh. Play in the snow building snowmen and sledding and maybe even ice skating.
Something tells me that after 5 days of living the life that I grew up living they will understand gratitude. Because it's really, really cold outside and and you walk everywhere. No PlayStation's this trip. Guitar hero? Build a guitar out of snow and play to your hearts content kids. Do you all want to go to the Mall? Great it's 100 miles away in a blizzard so dress warm.
You all want to see a movie? Perfect. Only 10 miles away in the same blizzard. Go outside and play. No, that's not frostbite. Frostbite turns black, that's just a navy blue. Were you wearing two pairs of socks? (This was always a fall back question from my mom during frostbite discussions)
Scarlett and I will be standing at the window drinking hot chocolate and saying how cold it looks, like in that commercial. And I will not feel guilty. I have done my time in the snowbanks. I have shoveled until my shoulders ached. I have plugged in my car at night. I have actually had my eyelids freeze shut while walking home from a swim team practice. You think water boarding scares me? Ha! Is it frozen water? No, then bring it on. As long as I don't have to stand where it hurts to take a deep breath I am all good.
Thomas Wolfe said you can never go home again. I will prove him wrong in 10 short days. I will be going home again and bringing my whole family with me. What Mr. Wolfe missed in his writings is the obvious question if home is the U.P.. If it's the middle of winter, "Why would you want to go home again?"

Till next.......

Chasing the dream. Living the dream. Both?

What if they are one and the same? We are all born with a dream. For some it disappears quickly and quietly like a thief in the night. Barely leaving a footprint on the soft soil of our memory. On some days it seems like something is there but you can't see it, touch it, feel it or even describe it. But you know something is not just right. Something is left undone.

Then there are some of us where the dream is part of our fabric. You can't do anything that doesn't further the dream. Constantly moving toward that dream, sometimes consciously, other times not, but always heading toward it all the same. We could not get away from the dream if we wanted to. And we don't want to. It's what consumes us and gives us purpose. It defines us.

The problem that occurs time and time again is an unanswered question. When is the dream just a dream? I have known people who have chased their dream for years and still do. Sometimes those who don't share the dream think it to be a large waste of time. And if those are people around you it can cause some serious issues. Logic would dictate that if you have been chasing your dream for years with no success you should give up. But logic loses against faith every time. True faith really doesn't give a crap about logic. It's just in the way.

Is there a solution? I think there is and it's hiding in plain sight. What if the pursuit of your dream is living the dream? What if the success of the dream is just a by-product of the chase? What if the chase actually is the dream? What if your success is ultimately judged by how you pursued your dream? How you never gave up during times of doubt and kept moving forward?

It kind of changes the background of everything. One mans failure may not be. It may be a testament. Are we not suppose to keep our sights set on the higher things? Is a dream not higher than temporary triumphs here and now? Don't lose sight of that dream. It won't lose sight of you.

Till next......

They have to chisel something.

This was the answer to a question I posed to one of my customers one day at the bar. He had just returned from a funeral and was lamenting that the preacher had done such a good job of covering up this man's mistakes and transgressions he thought he was at the wrong service. "Why would he do that?" was the question. And I answered my own question for him. "All these people are here to listen to him, they already dug the hole and they have to chisel something." was the full response. When it's all done, what will they chisel?


Now the answer for me is I could care less because I'm room temperature and toes up by then. But what they chisel may actually reflect what I do while I am here. Same goes for all of us I suppose. For years I was so proud of how many hours I could work. I still am. But do I want it to say "He outworked almost everybody still living"? That's sort of depressing. "He was a great employee"? That's worse. Now I'm dead and not even the boss. What if they told the truth? Tough love style. "He sacrificed most of the important things in his life because winning and getting ahead was what drove him. He missed birthdays, anniversary's, baby showers and funerals all for work." How grim is that? Work over everything else. Well, the good news is that most of us get a chance to change the chiseled words first.
That is what truth does for you. It slaps you right in the face. It stings too. Now the next question I have to answer is when will I change? When will the price I have gladly paid my whole life become too high? How many more events that really make life worth living will I continue to miss? And for what? To be the best! The best what? Husband? Obviously being on my third marriage would dispel that. Father? I don't know. My kids are great and have manners and do well in school but maybe that's because I wasn't there to screw them up. Businessman? Two bankruptcies and a couple of other business failures indicate I may not be Donald Trump.
Please don't think this is some sort of pity party. Nothing could be further from the truth. This is more about introspection. I provided for my family and that is what my job is. But did I have to keep trying to up the ante too much? I don't know, but I do know we get a chance to change. To change the words that are chiseled after we have taken leave. To leave a legacy not of hours worked but of lives that were changed. We all want to hear "job well done my faithful servant" but I would like to have a nice word or two carved out for my boys to see as well.

Till next.......

Through the eyes of a child.....

The world must seem so much different than it does to us old folks. Sometime ago my two boys and I were driving to Monteagle (between Chattanooga and Nashville) and you could see the grey clouds of snow dropping on the mountain has we started our winding climb upwards. My first thought was if this was going to make the roads slick. Then I wondered when I checked the antifreeze and if my tires had enough tread. I didn't see a forecast that said this was coming so we didn't have winter gear. If the car does breakdown we are going to be freezing. I hope I get a signal here on the side of the mountain and on and on. About the time I had run through all the possibilities of horrible death my eleven year old son said from the backseat, "Cool".

Fast forward to this week. I am taking a winter vacation with my wife and the four kids back in the town I got old older in. (I would never profess to growing up anywhere because I haven't) The excitement the kids show for piles of snow and cold weather just amazes me. Matthew, my stepson, is so wired he can't sit still. The rest of the kids aren't far behind. They will stay out for hours on end. Doing nothing more than being out in the cold. Now granted you don't see the volume of snow in Atlanta or Memphis that is on the ground here but it hasn't been thrilling enough to get the adults to stand in it. At least not more than is required by the kids.

So it got me to thinking, "What if we saw the world through the eyes of a child?" Not the holding our breath till we get another cookie type. The type of wonderment with anything new or different. The type of vision that allowed you to laugh when something was funny without thinking who you might offend first. The type of vision that allowed you to try to dance because it looked fun or slide down a hill on a sheet of plastic because it looked fun. The type of vision that allowed you to meet people who looked different and talked different than you and not be afraid of them. Or wonder what they wanted from you. The type of vision that allowed you to love people because you can. Not find a reason why you shouldn't.

The innocence of a child is a beautiful thing. Watching them build a snow fort and slide down hills is a great example for us adults. Fun and enjoyment are what we decide they are. If we let the world beat the child out of us, who will pass it along? Who will show the next generation what it is like to be a kid? Yep, I think it is up to us to keep on being a kid as long as we can. Maybe for a couple hours on the weekend. Or for the first hour after work do something you used to do when you were a kid. Stay a kid at heart. The next time someone asks you where you grew up you can tell them where you got older, you never grew up.

Till next..........

Brother can you spare a dime? No, how about some time?

Times are tough. For almost all of us. The paycheck seems to be gone after 13 days and the next two days are buttered noodles and jam sandwiches. One big problem and we are back to broke. It will surely get better and it's been a lot worse but during the holidays there seems to be more pressure. Presents to buy. Parties to go to. Work gets busier for some of us. And now you get a phone call asking you to help out this charity or that. Seriously. We don't have any extra money. We have kids and cars and mortgages. We'd love to, but money is just too tight and maybe if you could call next year we could help. If there was anything else we could do?

There is. Volunteer. Every single charity out there needs some help. Yes, money is great. It is critical to get the donations to fund our charities. But it is only part of it. They all need people. And we are people. It doesn't cost more than gas and time to help. Most of us are so quick to talk about how tough things are until we see people who really have it bad. It's about perspective. Go and give your time. Find a charity and just call and ask what you can do to help. They will have a need for you. And then the true miracle occurs. You change.

I know of what I speak here. I have given money and time. At the end of the day the feeling you have after volunteering is nothing short of miraculous. Your problems become so very small. Again, it's perspective. This doesn't mean we don't have problems but helping someone with theirs makes ours seem manageable. And this miracle feeds itself. Once you volunteer it's amazing how many people want to join you. But someone has to take the lead. Is it you? Can you imagine what the world would look like if everyone get one day to help a charity? Just one day a year. If you can't do a day, send a check. If you can, do both.

So here is the challenge. Volunteer one day before Christmas. Who is with me?



Till next......

Stop,drop and roll..Is that the best we can do?

A man is on fire and we get him started on calisthenics. This response sounds really small and insignificant compared to the situation at hand. Stop? Really? We have to tell you to stop what you're doing? How important of a chore are you in the middle of that you continue even with flames on you? Drop? Not much better here. If I'm roasting like a campfire marshmallow I'm dropping all right. And roll? Now this takes faith. Let me see if I can actually spread the flames over the rest of my body. Unless I'm rolling off a dock and into the lake this sounds like a cruel joke. But sometimes the instructions don't tell the whole story.

Did your parents ever tell you "Make sure you don't get her too drunk or she'll throw up"? Nope, mine didn't either. That would have been good instruction. The fact is we often look for guidance from the people who are least qualified to give it. The Pope is going to tell me about sex? He better not have any of those tips I see on the cover of Cosmo. Politicians are giving me advice on how to spend my money wisely? They are much better than I. How do you get to a trillion anyway? The same politicians who had 8 years to talk about these tax cuts give me advice to send my return in early. Now that is funny.

Eat your vegetables. Do your homework. Clean your room. Take out the trash. Comb your hair. Brush your teeth. All well meaning and somewhat useful advice. Self explanatory in most cases but your parents had to say something. I thought maybe we could come up with better dollops of knowledge.

*Never give your banking information to a prince from another country. He should already have a checking account if he is the son of King. *Never tell the mechanic fixing your car that you have a new job or that you know nothing about cars. First of all, he will charge you more if you can afford it and second he will charge you more if you don't know the difference. *When you are complimented for opening the car door for your wife don't say "I just got a new one". People will not know if you mean a new car or a new wife. Both answers make you look shallow. *For the middle aged men, it is acceptable to ask your Doctor if all the men in his family had big hands when scheduling your first prostate examination. *Never tell the bartender you left home with just enough money for two drinks. You will never get the second one.

The best quote I know of concerning advice is to always pass along good advice. There isn't much else you can do with it.



Till next.....

* denotes pearl of wisdom

How strong are you? Part 2

After yesterdays blog I wanted to give everybody some advice on answering our question. How strong is your forgiveness, empathy and grace? Well I am about to make it a whole lot stronger. Please do not ignore this advice.I try not to give any unless I am sure it's correct.
The MOST important person who needs your grace and forgiveness is you. That's right, you. All the bad crap you did, the mistakes you made, the commandments you broke and all the rest need to go on one long list. Ask for grace and forgiveness and then let it go. You are not perfect and the whole reason we are celebrating is so you can get forgiveness. "But I did really bad stuff" and so did I. I was granted forgiveness and shown grace and I knew I did not deserve any of it.
Then a not so funny thing happened. I never forgave myself. Oh I could grant you forgiveness or have empathy for a lot of folks but not me. I hung onto every mistake I'd made in the last 20 years. And beat myself up over it over and over again. At some point I was a bigger judge of my sins than God. How's that for a big ego? He forgives me but I know better. Nobody can be that arrogant. And I wasn't. I was scared. Afraid to turn all my crap over and let God take it. What if he turned away from me too? Funny how brave you have to be just to ask to feel better about yourself. He did not turn away. He embraced me. He still does.
Guess what happened? He gave me the gift of grace so I can pass it on. And I try to as often as possible. He granted me forgiveness so I can do the same. So now you know the way to become stronger. And it is all in your power to do it. So will you? Do you want it? All you need to ask? Ask yourself for forgiveness? And then grant it and rejoice. For now it's your turn to pass it on. And it feels so good to do so.

Till next........

So you think you're strong? How about a beetle?

That's what I said. The Rhinoceros beetle can lift and drag something 850 times it's weight. To put it into couch potato terms, that would be like your favorite idiot getting handcuffed on Cops and then turning around and throwing the cop car over a fence. Pretty strong little insect when you think in those terms. The problem is the definition of strength is always changing.


Now that little bug is strong in his world but if he meets the heel of my Nike he is going to be a dead beetle. 850 parts of him will be smeared across the floor. Not so tough now is he? Then maybe strength should be relative to the situation and surroundings. Pro football players are tough. Tough enough to hold the hand of a dying homeless man? Hockey players are tough. Legendary tough. Tough enough to counsel an abused mother of four about how to leave her husband and raise her children by herself without a job or skills?


You see, tough is not always about strength. Being physically strong is great. Being intellectually strong is great as well. Being emotionally tough can be good too. But how strong is your grace? Your forgiveness? Your empathy? Are you strong enough to forgive when you have been treated badly? Strong enough to not cast judgement on the shortcomings of others? Are you empathetic enough to love people who have shown you no love at all? These are the tests of strength that don't wane over time. Grace goes on forever once granted. Forgiveness doesn't get a roll of belly around it's middle. True empathy doesn't have to do sit ups.


Here is the strangest thing to me. The toughest among us are usually not the strongest. The truly tough have to fight and claw through life because they may be smaller or weaker. Or just born into a bad situation that forced them to become tough long before they should have. Show me a tougher man than one who had to keep his Dad from hitting his Mom. Show me a tougher girl than one who grew up at her Grandmothers because her Mom left her. Show me someone tougher than a kid growing up bouncing from one foster home to the next. Now that's tough.


Maybe now is the perfect time to ask ourselves,"How tough am I?" "Who am I helping this holiday season? Am I extending grace to people? Am I giving my time to those who need it? Am I leaving judgement of people to whom it belongs?" Because those answers really determine how strong we are or are not. And I prefer to strong in the qualities that go on forever. Give me strength in grace, forgiveness and empathy and I'll be happy. Because the heel of God's Nike is probably pretty big and I don't want to find out.

Till next......