Saturday, May 10, 2014

The gift of a legacy.....

  My cousin Tami recently wrote a very good article about our grandfather James Allen and the impact he had as an educator and mentor. Because we lived so close to Tapiola, where he was the principal of John A. Doelle school, I was lucky enough to spend many weekends with my grandfather and grandmother so I thought I would share a few memories. Excellent article, by the way Tami, well done.
  James Allen was what every educator should strive to be. He didn't talk about theories, he lived them, he practiced them, he took them out of the faculty lounges and into the classrooms. His belief was that a child had the ability to excel at something, it was his job to find out what that was. Every student meant something to him, not a grade, but a young person on his way to becoming an adult. It wasn't about passing his kids, that's what he called them, his kids, onto the next grade or level. It was about preparing them to be productive members of society. He took ownership over the success of his students, it was personal.
  During my childhood, the lessons I learned from James Allen were imparted to me without me even realizing it till much later in life. Part of his employment was a house next to the school with an acre of land. When I see an acre of land I think of a lot of lawn mowing. My grandfather saw a hot lunch program that could provide most of it's own food. Every spring he would till the soil with me trailing behind, throwing the largest rocks out of the garden. Once I grew to a suitable height it was my job to till and he would kick the rocks away. Because of the arthritis that had ravaged his body for many years, he was more than happy to pass the torch. My first row of tilling basically made a perfect S in the soil. The crop circles in that Mel Gibson movie were straighter than my first pass. He looked at me and said, "Now we have a starting point."
  Spring was spent planting and summer was for weeding and watering. He would walk along side me and ask me questions about the soil, the plants, math questions, science questions and history questions. When I didn't know the answer he challenged me to think about it. Sometimes he would ask 'why' when I would give the correct answer. It wasn't always enough to know the answer, he wanted the reason, or reasoning, behind the answer. These days they call it critical thinking but to grandpa it was just thinking. He would light up with pride when I could tell him how I came up with the conclusion. Even at the dinner table or sitting on the sofa, the questions and lessons never stopped. I got to go to class every minute of the day we were together and it was wonderful. He knew how to make me want to learn without me ever being aware of it.
  But he was so much more than information. He would constantly praise me in ways that were different. One of my pet nicknames from my father was 'motor mouth' ( a well earned moniker). On a Sunday afternoon when my parents came to pick me up I was chattering about all the things we had done that weekend when my dad held up his hand indicating he had heard enough for the moment. When I had all my stuff packed up and hugged grandpa good bye he whispered in my ear, "You have a gift for communicating, don't ever let it leave." I will never forget those words if I live to a hundred years old. That is what a legacy does for you.
  The last time I saw my grandfather was Christmas day in 1979. The following spring I moved to Texas and didn't come home for a few years. He passed away while I was in Texas and when my dad called I took the news like a typical Finn. Because I was young and broke I never made it home for the service. Truth be told, I wouldn't have come if I was filthy rich. It broke my heart. Growing up like most kids, my heroes were sports figures. Men who could throw a fastball, catch a football or shoot a hockey puck were my idols. But by the time he had passed I was beginning to realize that the real heroes in my life were people like my grandfather. You can add my grandmother and both my parents to that list. With age comes wisdom, finally.
  It is no surprise all the teachers and educators that Tami documented so well came from the tree of James Allen. He was an inspiration to almost everyone he met. I have often wondered why the one grandchild who spent so much time with him never went into education. Maybe it was his encouragement to follow my dreams, not his, but mine. Maybe my legacy is supposed to be different. With the advent of Facebook I see so many people who worked for and with me go on to be very successful. Many of my customers who became good friends have gone on to do great things despite going through tough times. Perhaps in some strange sort of way I may have helped some of them. It isn't the same type of legacy but maybe it's mine.
  We all leave some sort of legacy. James Keast Allen left a great one, we all should be so fortunate.

Till next.....

Thursday, May 8, 2014

"The luckiest thing that ever happened.....

  to me was that I was born in America." That answer was given by Howard Schultz, who runs Starbucks, when he was asked if he was superstitious. It sounded like an answer someone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth would say. Why wouldn't he say that? He is so wealthy that no member of his family will ever have to work again. I'm sure he has homes all over the world, nice cars and lives better than most of us ever will. He is probably just another example of the ultra rich who got that way by the hard work of other people who are paid far less, don't get health care or stock in the company. Except that he isn't. If you don't believe the American Dream is possible anymore than you don't know Howard Schultz.
  Howard grew up poor in a tough part of Brooklyn, New York. The housing project he lived wouldn't be featured in Better Homes and Gardens. Like a lot of kids in that situation he found sports a good way to stay out of trouble. He was good enough to get a football scholarship that allowed him to be the first family member to attend college. He packed his bags and headed to Northern Michigan University. I can only imagine the culture shock that came with that move.
  Northern Michigan University is located in the town of my birth, Marquette. It sits in the middle of the southern shore of Lake Superior and gets really cold in the winter. Fortunately the winter only last from October to April so he probably enjoyed the first three weeks of school every year. There are no 'mean streets' in Marquette unless you count the bars on First Street where Yoopers and Canadians might fight over their favorite hockey teams. Not exactly the Bloods and Crypts throwing down over a turf war. I'm sure the weather contributed greatly to his appreciation for coffee that served him well later in life.
  After graduation he kicked around a couple of jobs and ran into the owners of Starbucks. He ended up buying part of the company and the name Starbucks (They kept Peets Coffee&Tea) and changed the company. Even if you work part time you can get health insurance. You get stock options. They donate huge amounts of money to many different charitable groups. They seem to be a company that truly understands the American Dream that Howard Schultz represents. But how many more people still believe it?
  This post isn't meant to sing the praises of Starbucks. When I heard his quote the first thought that crossed my mind was if anyone else still felt that way. My generation grew up being taught about the greatness of America. There was a pride that we were the best country in the world. Not perfect, but we were pretty good. The war had ended in Vietnam and even though there was a growing number of people who thought we were an evil, imperialist nation, the number was still a small minority. To understand why we felt this way, you have to understand that the people teaching us were still part of the greatest generation. They had lived through WWII, part of the great depression and the cold war. Patriotism wasn't an ideology, it was a way of life brought about by experience. They had witnessed the rest of the world and realized that upon comparison, we were the greatest country on Earth. They were part of it, not a theory about it.
  For all the people who are under the age of thirty, what have they seen? The first Gulf War, 9/11, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Along with those events they have been told that it was all about oil, our religion, our freedom, our sins and a host of other reasons why we suck. I'm not saying we shouldn't have vigorous debate about our country but the drumbeat has been endless for decades. How about the hyper reaction of the other side of the spectrum? If you have ever listened to talk radio or some shows on Fox news you would be convinced that the half of the country who votes democrat wants to take us straight to Stalin like communism. Republicans want to starve kids and poison people with dirty air and water. Really? Does anyone really think that because someone has a different point of view, they want to harm everyone else?
  The main problem, the way I see it, is that Washington and the media (liberal and conservative) don't represent most of us in the country. We still think this country is the best on Earth. We could find common ground on some of the issues Washington seems unable or willing to. We don't think our neighbor is the spawn of Satan because we disagree on politics. Do the people in Washington have any idea what we think anymore? Listen to them talk about each other and you realize very quickly that they care much more about retaining their power than they do governing by the will of the people. The media knows the more mud that gets thrown around the higher the ratings. Negative press gets higher ratings so we expect them to report only the very worst stories they can find. Most of us are the same proud Americans we have always been.
  So while another election draws closer and the ads run endlessly telling you how candidates should be in jail instead of running for office, take a deep breath and remember you live in the greatest country on Earth. Every day you wake up you have already won the lottery. I love debating politics but I never have been ignorant enough to think that people who disagree with me are any less patriotic or less intelligent than I am. They just have a different opinions on certain issues. Don't let Washington or the media fool you into thinking your friends and neighbors are stupid, hateful or fundamentally different than you. We are all Americans.

Till next.....
 
 
   
   

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

The best way to keep your pride in check.....

 The most effective way to remain humble that I have found is to subject yourself to the annual garage sale. We live in a community that decides one Saturday every year to allow all the residents to sell priceless items that have been accumulated over time to other residents (and every one else who speaks Spanish) through the time honored tradition of a garage sale. It's a big deal. People prepare their displays on Friday hoping it doesn't rain overnight because they want to be ready at daylight. And normally the first customer arrives well before then, somewhere between the delivery of the morning paper and the first cup of coffee.
  Now is when the humility begins in earnest. Sure, you may have paid a couple of hundred dollars for that suit that doesn't quite fit anymore but in the world of the weekend Fred Sanford crowd it's worth about $5 cash. Your grandmother gave you a silver serving tray that is priceless, well not quite, it will fetch you a dollar. That lifelong dream of finally getting in great shape has been gathering dust in the form of a Bowflex or some other do-it-yourself fitness machine may have cost you an arm and a leg but garage sale value runs about 10 bucks if you find the right motivated buyer. Furniture is one of those things you buy with an emotional attachment, memories may be contained in that leather sofa but you need to get over it. Sure you made payments all the way through the last decade to buy it but you're going to get less than $20 to get it off your driveway. It doesn't take long to realize that what you thought was great isn't worth all that much.
  But the true self esteem kick in the crotch comes in the form of negotiation. How can you think you have succeeded in life when an elderly lady staggers out of her 1971 Buick and tells you that 50 cents is too much for that painting you drop a hundred bucks on last year? Or when that stainless steel cookware that brought you such joy when you bought it is reduced to $4 because the couple that just bought them negotiated like they were on Shark Tank? I've actually had someone offer me one dollar for some shirts I was selling. Nice dress shirts that had brand names. Not a dollar per shirt mind you, five shirts for a dollar. Sold them right along with what was left of my pride at this point. Factoring in the gas I didn't use going to Goodwill, winner.
  I really think it's time to change this into a new reality show, Garage Swap. We take a couple in the suburbs and switch their garage with another couple who lives in another country. How cool would that be? Get rid of all your junk and get a surprise from somewhere around the world. I wonder if the Chinese have the same crap in their garage? Probably not because they built all the crap and sold it to us in the first place. Can you imagine the thrill someone in Darfur might get when they opened the door and found the refrigerator in my garage? Sure once they found out it needed electricity to work (even then it was broke) the joy would evaporate quicker than a fallen dictator but a little happiness is better than none. I know someone Siberia would do cartwheels or at least snow angels when they found the lawn mower and leaf blower. This idea can't be any worse than the Real Housewives of where ever the hell they find crazy people.
  Everybody has gone through at least one garage sale in their life. Hopefully one was enough for you to realize the value of a tax deduction is greater than the $20 you will garner while finding out that you and your stuff just ain't all that. Keep your stuff in the garage and feel good about yourself, it's worth the money.

Till next.....

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

How to close Guantanamo Bay in one year.....

  Given the fact that a big deal has been made out of closing the terrorist country club of Gitmo for the last five years or so I thought maybe I could help. The sixth amendment not withstanding, we have a bunch of really nasty characters that we can't release because they are too dangerous and no other country wants them either. So how about we let them experience our culture first hand? Here is what I had in mind.
  Let's divide the work program into the four seasons, more or less. January through March our guests will be stationed in my hometown of Painesdale, Michigan working the snow removal program. This year they have had 320 inches of snow thus far so I know they could use the help. Because most of these guys come from places that don't exactly embrace technology we will skip the snow plow training and hand out shovels. I'm thinking 12 hours of shoveling snow just to watch a snow plow put it right back where it was will have them longing for the good old days of caves and camels. At least the women will be dressed similar to what they are used to. A burka and a snow mobile suit are not that different in amount of exposed skin.
   For springtime it is down south to Atlanta for the beautiful blooming season. For work we can start at all the car dealerships washing the pollen off of the cars. I realize that there may be allergy issues because the homeland of our guests has two types of plants; heroin poppies and rocks. Perhaps a diet of strictly dairy products would help. For night time work we will have them work security at the Clermont Lounge. These are supposedly some pretty tough guys right? They will have to be for this detail. Cover your eyes fellas!
  No summer would be complete without a trip to the southwest. How about Texas and Arizona? We obviously have no idea how to build a fence (unless it involves the restriction of cattle, then we rock) so how about helping us out by constructing that border fence for us? You'll probably run into some people you know while you're working, but don't let them in. That would be defeating the purpose. There will be plenty of Lone Star beer and barbecue to keep you hydrated and energized for the work. Thanks for the help.
  We will need to split the last season into two parts. The first will spent raking leaves at all of our national parks. What better way to appreciate the beauty of the country you hate so much? Starting on Thanksgiving you will be working customer service at area Wal-Marts. This will be the ultimate slice of American humanity for all of the Gitmo visitors. Try to keep a helpful and joyous attitude. I strongly believe that everyone will be begging for water-boarding by the end of the year. I'm just trying to help.

Till next.......

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

A very hard holiday to celebrate...

  My day started out with two sales calls, the last one being a local health food store. After our appointment had concluded I was leaving when the girl behind the counter gave me a cheery, "Have a happy Earth Day." I answered with a simple thank you and got into my fossil fuel burning car and headed to the grocery store to pick up some lunch. But now I had a problem, it was Earth Day and with that knowledge being thrust upon me it made my choices for lunch and the rest of the day much more complicated. What to do, what to do?
  Steak was what I'm in the mood for but then I remember the impending doom of mankind produced by cow farts. How could I possibly add to the bovine flatulence tsunami threatening the planet. Personally I think the biggest danger of a cow fart is if you are standing next to one but, it is Earth Day. Maybe some chicken? Have you ever seen the inhumane way these chickens are treated? Not to mention the steroids that are pumped into our fine feathered friends. There is no way I could eat a chicken on Earth Day.
  Vegetables seem to be the only way to go. A nice salad, produced by genetically modified seeds sounds somewhat appealing. Can't go there either. Luckily I can go to organic veggies and free range chicken eggs. Perfect. The eggs are in a Styrofoam container. The organic vegetables have a Styrofoam bottom and plastic wrapped around the top. Styrofoam is bad for the planet because it doesn't rot fast enough and plastic is made from petroleum. There goes the vegetables and the eggs. I'm running out of options quickly.
  Ice cream comes from cows but I remember seeing a commercial about the cows being the happiest cows on Earth. Maybe they were happy enough not to fart so I went with their ice cream. Yes, I eat ice cream for lunch, breakfast or dinner. I am blessed by the fact I eat what I want, when I want, how much I want and my weight hasn't moved in 30 years. (women reading this blog: I realize I am now one of the most hated men you know with the exception of your ex and George Clooney because he still hasn't called) With my eco-friendly half gallon in hand I headed for the checkout line feeling pretty good.
  After the clerk rang up my purchase he asked if I wanted I bag? What kind of bag? Paper, cutting down our treasured trees on Earth Day seemed almost criminal. Plastic? Big oil companies leaking oil everywhere just so my hand doesn't have to touch the ice cream sounds directly opposed to the spirit of the holiday. Then I looked closer at the carton containing the ice cream. Oh no, it is some form of cardboard. More trees being cut down on this holiest of holidays.(for trees I guess) Racked with guilt I declined the offer for the bag and went home and put the ice cream away in the freezer until tomorrow when I can eat it guilt free.
    Lowering my head in shame over my Earth Day transgressions I see my shoes. Tennis shoes with rubber soles. Damn, burning rubber produces thick black smoke, off with the shoes. My shirt, cotton, another plant that had to die. Never mind the fact that plants produce oxygen that actually let's us live. It  is Earth Day, damn it. I'm committed now, off with the shirt, shorts and socks. I walk softly onto the grass taking great care not to damage even a blade and sit quietly taking very shallow breaths. I know that we now treat CO2 has a dangerous gas so every time I exhale I'm violating the true spirit of Earth Day. Perhaps one day we will all be able to embrace the ultimate celebration of Earth Day and just quit breathing for that day. Happy Earth  Day my ass. I'm hungry, naked and pretty sure the neighbors are going to call the police.

Till next......

Monday, April 21, 2014

Totally Random Ramblings......

  While this would be a perfect title for the speeches of our elected officials it is not the content of this blog today. What follows is just a collection of thoughts that have crept past my twisted mind in the last few days. There is no deep meaning, hidden messages or moral to the story, similar to an episode of Psych.
  Chicks dig foreign accents. They seem especially smitten with Italian or French. Even Australian piques the interest of the average female. (how else do you explain the success of Crocodile Dundee) There is one glaring exception to this rule: Canadian. No couple has ever watched Fargo, hurried home, got naked and thrown the McKenzie Brothers 12 Days of Christmas song on the stereo and gotten busy. Never happened.
  I come by my sarcasm honestly. When I was a child our family was watching The Waltons on television and when they all starting saying good night to each other, I started making comments about our family getting as big as the Waltons.(I think they had 8 kids, we were at 5, 6 came a few years later) My father had heard enough and remarked with a growl, "If you were born after John Boy they sure as hell wouldn't have had six more." That comment should be worth a hour on a therapists couch alone. Well played, Dad.
  The legalization of pot for recreational use raises some issues. Will it be illegal to work under the influence of pot? If so, we should go ahead and close 80% of all restaurants, all head shops, the Mayors' office in Toronto and the DMV. Sorry, I know the DMV is already drug tested but they moved like they are stoned already. How are the police going to test drivers? Ask them to complete the lyrics of Pink Floyd songs? Recite the alphabet forward? Check for used Twinkie wrappers and empty Pringles cans in the backseat? Will they have a 'slow lane' for stoners? There are some things that need to be worked out, obviously.
  There appears to be a fashion trend among women to wear very high heels and even shorter skirts. If this continues we will soon witness a woman on stilts wearing one of those pouches the guys at Home Depot wear to keep their tools in. At some point even the strippers are going to say they've gone too far.
  On Friday there was a 4 page article on the fact that sarcasm could be hurtful. My initial reaction, no kidding, I hope your parents didn't pay for that journalism degree. The money would have been better spent getting a science degree and telling me water was wet. Like I said earlier, I come by it honestly. A shovel can be hurtful if someone hits you in the head with it but it doesn't take 4 pages to tell me that either.
  Is anyone else glad that Burger King quit running those ads with the creepy, big plastic headed guy waking up in someones' bed? Didn't their slogan used to be "Have it your way."? My way would be to keep that clown school drop out with the pedophilia like grin far away form any room in my house. Somebody actually convinced Burger King those were good commercials. I can hear the pitch meeting now. "So we dress him up in robes like a king and then put a big friggin' plastic head on top of him. And we put a smile on his face, kind of like the Joker from Batman only without the warm and fuzzy feeling. Then we can put him in the bed with people or on a playground. It tested well with our focus group." Sure, the focus group was a federal penitentiary at San Quentin but why quibble over details. Good riddance, Creepy King.
  When I brought my car in for an oil change I was asked if I wanted my tires balanced. I replied, "Sure, do you have a seal back there? Or are you going to do the Harlem Globetrotter thing on your finger?" After a long period of staring at each other I said that the oil change was all I needed. More hurtful sarcasm.

Till next......
 

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Shout out to my peeps....

and all the other traditional holiday food of my childhood. I did not grow up in a religious home so the Easter holiday centered much more around the sugar high that followed the opening of our huge baskets filled with peeps, chocolate bunnies and assorted other candy. He may have risen but I was practically flying by the time a three foot milk chocolate lemur had been devoured. Candy and presents, Happy Easter indeed.
  But like any holiday, Easter always had the big traditional dinner. At our house it was always ham which dropped Easter down with New Year's Day as far as dinners go. I do not like ham, on a boat or with a goat or any other form of transportation or animal. Any meat that needs to be covered in glaze is obviously not that tasty to begin with. Pineapple and brown sugar are very similar to lingerie, it really looks pretty but it doesn't change what is underneath, it's still ham.At least there was always mashed potatoes and vegetables.
  Fast forward to the holidays of Memorial Day and the 4th of July. When it comes to holiday meals it is very hard to beat the grilled combination of hamburgers and hot dogs. Taste is fantastic, preparation is minimal and clean up is almost nothing. You add in some potato salad and chips, what's not to love? The real bonus is you can do this several times in the same day. Try that with a ham, go ahead, I dare you.
  Now we get to the meat of the holiday feast, the Thanksgiving Day turkey dinner. Of course the turkey is great, but the sheer volume of side dishes and desserts is magnificent. Growing up there was always plenty of fresh vegetables, breads and of course, rutabagas. For those who have never heard me espouse the greatness of the most under-rated root vegetable ever, here is a quick reminder. The rutabaga is much like a turnip only yellow in color. They are a pain in the ass to peel but after being boiled and mashed, coated in butter, salt and pepper, they taste delicious. Huge fiber and vitamin content makes it an almost perfect vegetable. The main drawback is the smell when cooking them. People who live next to sulfur plants will open their windows to try and cover the smell of boiling rutabagas. It's still worth it for the taste, sort of. Then you get to the pies, apple, pumpkin and pecan. Don't like pie? How about fruit salad, pistachio cream, ice cream or brownies? Yep, we had them all and I have tried to keep the excess up as an adult.
  Christmas dinner was almost the same as Thanksgiving except there was a greater emphasis on cookies. The size of the turkey for these two feasts has not varied much over the years at all. We always had a turkey that was over 22 pounds, sometimes well over. This tradition still holds true today no matter how many people are attending.My parents still cook a huge bird even if there are only 4 people eating. Two years ago, I roasted a 24 pound turkey complete with all the trimmings. Scarlett ate a small helping of turkey, I ate the rest. It took me almost a week to get through the leftover food. We were the only people home that year but that small fact can't ends years of tradition. Man cannot survive on bread alone, but put some leftover turkey with mayonnaise, salt and pepper and he can rival Methuselah.
  The one dinner I never fully understood was the black-eyed pea tradition on New Years Day. It's said that it brings you good luck. It takes a lot of luck to not inadvertently fart after eating several helpings. This tradition may have been invented by Febreeze or Glade air fresheners. If flatulence equals good luck I should get on a plane to Vegas after the black-eyed peas. And buy a lottery ticket on my way to the airport. So it doesn't matter what your holiday feast is, as long as you enjoy it. Eat, drink and be merry my peeps.
  Do you make the same holiday meals your parents did? Just curious.

Till next.....

   
   

Friday, April 18, 2014

Justice delayed is justice denied, but for who?....

  One of the most fascinating things happened almost 14 years ago when a man held up a Burger King manager with a gun when he was making a bank deposit. He was more of a boy than a man and he and his cousin actually used an air gun. The conviction for young Cornealious Anderson was for 13 years and considering the circumstances it was not unreasonable. You make bad decisions and you have to pay for them. After being bonded out of jail he was told the Missouri Department of Corrections would let him know when to report to jail. The problem or blessing was the call never came. Not for 13 years anyway.
  The real surprise of the story is what Anderson did in the 13 years. He worked, hard. He got married, had a family and started 3 different businesses. He paid his taxes and even a couple of speeding tickets. His real name, real address and real picture. The entire time he made no effort to flee or even hide. I'm sure the more time went by, the more he just kept doing what was right, the more he thought they had forgotten about him. Actually, I don't what he thought. Judging by his actions he seemed to think that anyway. Then after 13 years the MDOC found the clerical error when they went to release him. So they sent a SWAT team to his house and arrested him when he was feeding his 3 year old daughter. The piper came a calling and he answered.
  Currently he is in jail while they try and figure out what to do. His lawyer is pushing for release and the state wants him to do the entire 13 year stint. There is no question that justice has been delayed, but has it been denied? Every morning for over a decade Anderson woke up wondering if he was going to jail. That is some sort of sentence served but certainly not a jail cell. But was it his fault? No. Does that change the fact that he was sentenced? No. The state is demanding justice but the delay was on them. Justice it seems is at stand still here. The Governor can commute the sentence which is what happened back in 1912 but so far there has been no comment. Perhaps he could serve some time on weekends or do community service. I don't see how taking a productive member of our society and jailing him serves the states interest. Hopefully they can work out a logical solution. But that is not what made this so interesting to me. It was what Anderson did.
  What would I do in that situation? Would I try and make a difference everyday I was out? Start a business? Would I get married and start a family? It's hard to say without being in his shoes but my initial answer would be, not only no, but hell no. Given my destructive nature I would be much more likely to spend every day curled up with a bottle of the best thing to come out of Kentucky (except Kevin McCarthy and Justified). Or maybe I would make the rounds and visit old friends and family. Perhaps I would consider running, changing my name, my appearance and everything else I could.  How do you explain a 20 year old kid taking the path he did? You're freedom is about to disappear every time the phone rings and all you do is start a life that any man or woman or parent would be proud of? Would you do the same? Would I? Would I want a person like that in jail? I think the justice delay may not have denied justice, it may have come in a different form.

Till next......
 

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Can you spare 5 minutes a week?..I need volunteers...

  With the explosion of social media I can't help but notice the law of unintended consequences has reared its ugly head once again. I have stumbled on Tumbler, shown my ass on Facebook, instantly became addicted to Instagram, Flicked, Pinned and Tweeted away more than one afternoon and I suspect I am not alone. We have become so good at connecting in 140 characters or less that we have lost the ability to connect in the real world. I was waiting in a dentist office and there were 4 other people, all engrossed on their smart phones just like me. I am old enough to remember when I would have spoken to all of them.
  What is the cost of all our new found connectivity? I suggest that the real cost is the loss of relationships. Have you ever met anyone who you became friends with while waiting in line? I know I have. Or just heard an interesting story between other people talking? Me too, but it hasn't been lately. If it wasn't for Bluetooth I'm not sure people would even speak in public anymore. So instead of becoming a more friendly, integrated society we are becoming more isolated, unless you count a smart phone or laptop. We are becoming more concerned with what our followers or "friends" on Facebook are doing than we are with the people we actually interact with every day. May be that's why the country seems so easily divided these days.
  Because of these observations I decided I was going to do something to change it. Once a week I am going to take 5 or 10 minutes and connect with someone I don't know but see on occasion. It might be a grocery check out person, dry cleaner or even a pizza delivery guy. Just 5 minutes to find out where they are from, do they have a family, like their job, whatever. People love to talk about themselves so it won't be very hard. (I have a blog based on that fact) Some of the people I talk to might end up being one hour conversations. Who knows, I might even find a friend or two while I'm at it. At the very least, I'm going to try a put a smile on someones face. I'm sure there will be a few that will leave me shaking my head but that is okay too.
  My personal goal is two people a week so a year from now I can say I've got 100 new friends. I love the thought of telling people, "Ask for John at Starbucks or Tom at Home Depot, they are good guys" for no other reason than it makes people feel good. There is no monetary gain in this project of mine. It's not a human chain letter where if you don't do it bad luck will swarm over you. It's nothing more than a chance to try and connect more people and hopefully find out all of us have more in common than we think. Even if you just try it for a couple of weeks all you have spent is 10 minutes of not watching cat videos on You Tube anyway.
  I am starting this today but it would be much more fun and have a greater impact if people would join me in it. If you are the cynical and jaded type (I am) think of all the sarcasm laced stories you will have if everybody you meet is a complete tool. Comedy gold, but I doubt that will be the case. If you want to try this with me just comment, like or share the blog post. Or re-tweet it. This going to be fun.

Till next.....
 

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

The four wheel CEO......

  A couple of weeks ago I heard Jim Cramer, the host of Mad Money talking about living in his car for a period of time. He mentioned another CEO who went through the same experience. My sincere apologies that I can't remember the other man's name but the fact that there was more than two of us made me think it was time to offer some tips to anyone going the mobile domicile route. I do not recommend it but you will see there is a benefit to doing so.
  Most people don't wait till their mid 40's to live in a car but I am an innovator. One morning I woke up with no job, no wife, no house, no money and no ability to see my kids every morning when they woke up. To say that each day was not filled sunshine and lollipops would be the king of understatements. Rather than admit to those who remained close to me (excluding my family it was a short list) I decided to figure it all out myself. As a side note, this particular way of thinking is horrible and should be avoided at all costs. It was my thinking and lack of asking for help that got me where I was, I should have known better. But it was time for me to be resourceful. So I developed a routine that you will think is funny and sad at the same time.
  The first rule of living in one's car is the proper selection of where to park at night when you sleep. Living in Memphis complicated this decision more than a little bit. Memphis is where criminals move away from because the competition is to tough. I selected grocery store parking lots to begin with, until the security guards figured out I wasn't doing much shopping. After exhausting Kroger's patience I went for the hotels. They have a tendency to call the police when they see a man sleeping in his car. Stay away from the hotels.
  Finally I found out what works. I took the last $20 I had in my pocket and joined a 24 health club. At the end of the day when I was through working my 3 jobs to get back on my feet (and in a bed) I would head to the club. After a good workout, I would head to the steam room and then the shower.A valuable tip here is to not fall asleep in the steam room. I came out after a 2 hour nap looking like Pruneface from the Dick Tracy cartoons. The couches in the entryway were an excellent place to catch a couple of winks. The staff was helpful, letting me crash right in the front of the club. I became such good friends with one girl that I heard her asking an incoming guest to keep his voice down because I was napping. I knew then my time was probably running out. The next night I was awakened in my car by a night stick tapping on my window and an officer with an attitude. When he asked where I lived and I pointed to the car he told me to move out of his area. Sympathy has never been a strong suit of the Memphis Police Department.
  Dining when you are homeless and broke is another hurdle to jump. Every morning I would show up with my suit pressed (meaning I hung it in the steam room while I showered) look at my fake Rolex, furrow my brow and head for the front desk. "Has anyone asked for me?" I would say with my best salesman smile. The answer was always no because I didn't know anybody at the hotel. I just wanted the free breakfast. "Do you mind if I have a seat at one of the tables?" Well, who would refuse such a request? Not the front desk at some of the finest hotels in Memphis. I would eat until I tasted bile and then head out the door to get to work. Some of the front desk people eventually knew my name and greeted with a big, "Good Morning, Chris." Blanche Dubois had it right about the kindness of strangers.
  Even the best of free buffets will not hold you for 24 hours. Dinner can be found at Sam's Club or some of the bars around town. I found a car dealership across the street from the liquor store where I took a job working nights that gave away free hot dogs if you were willing to take a test drive of a new pickup truck and take the selling ass whipping in return. Free hot dogs? Give me your best pitch. 2 weeks later the manager came over to me and said I could have the hot dogs without the test drive. Apparently they were running out of salesman. I love it when a plan comes together. I did miss the test drives though. I also took a job with Papa Johns because I needed the money and I knew there would be free food. At the end of the night every pizza place lets the employees eat the mistakes that were made throughout the shift. Is it safe to eat a 5 hour old pizza that has been sitting out at room temperature? Mostly, but constipation was never a problem after partaking of the 'buss tub buffet'. Location of an available restroom was important.
  Three months later I had saved up enough money to get an apartment and get back on the grid. I don't relate this story because it made me mad or bitter. On the contrary it taught me that no matter what the circumstances I will not quit. Fear is one of those things that we all have, some more than others. But once a fear is conquered, it's conquered for good. Do I still fear failing? Yep, but I don't fear losing everything. Been there, done that. Well, not everything really. I didn't lose my faith (questioned it severely) the love of my family and kids and a few friends. If I had said I was homeless I'm sure they would have helped. As it turned out I'm glad I didn't. I haven't gone on to the success of Jim Cramer or the other guy, but I did get back on feet. I did start my own merchant processing business. I did write and publish my first novel. Compared to living in the car, I would have to say I have become somewhat successful.
  I wasn't dating at the time but part of me wanted to hear a woman ask me if we could go back to my place. "Sure, make yourself comfortable, unbuckle the seat belt."

Till Next.....


   

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Ancient Chinese secret?....Not at all...

  The one household chore that I have never minded doing was laundry. It's not that I'm a great husband (I have two court documents to prove otherwise) so much as it is the fact that laundry can be done in conjunction with other important jobs. Start a load of clothes and turn on the ballgame, wait till halftime, move them to the dryer, watch the second half of the game, fold the clothes and repeat if needed. Why wouldn't a man want to embrace the easiest of tasks? Because once you begin, you get the rules. Rules?
  For those of you who are single the rules have probably been taught to you at some point. Hopefully you have the good sense to ignore them. When I was single the laundry rules consisted of the sniff test and a constant battle of re-balancing the washing machine during the spin cycle. Once you pack that bad boy full of everything you own and it gets to spinning sideways it makes a lot of noise. I'm pretty sure that on one such occasion the washing machine actually rattled all the way into the living room before I got off the couch. What about ironing your clothes? I don't know how it works for shirts but it makes a great grilled cheese sandwich. The rules are for those who choose to follow them. Fight the power, if you're single.
  Apparently the color of clothing is mystically linked to water temperature. Newton, Einstein or even Bill Nye have not been able to explain the fact that white clothes must be washed in hot or warm water. Dark clothes will be vaporized if they are washed in anything other than cold water. Don't even get me started on red or pink clothing. They are the kosher color of clothes. They must not touch or even be seen by the other clothes. I've seen nuclear waste handled with less care than a red shirt. If it also has a tag that reads delicate, a special protocol must be followed. If you have a hazardous material suit at your disposal that will help. These must be washed by the hands of a monk who had spent at least a decade in some sort of laundry monastery I like to wash the reds with the whites because I like the color pink. I am an innovator.
  Did you know that bras require there own bag during the washing? I didn't either. Then one day I pulled out a bra from the washer and every other piece of clothing had attached itself to the bra. It came out like a string of Corona pennants that you see around the patio of every Mexican restaurant. I should have walked straight out the back door and hooked the whole load to a tree. Sure, it would look like a bad episode of Green Acres but it would have been efficient. This little tip comes under the preparation of laundry.
  This is where laundry becomes confusing. As a man, I undress the same way every night. My shoes are kicked off and then I hook my big toe on my right foot into the bottom of my pants leg on the left leg and remove my socks and pants at the same time. I pull my shirt over my head by the arms so it is not inside out. Basically it looks like the rapture has occurred and I was taken away. Or if you have ever seen a snake shed his skin on Animal Planet you get the general idea. The clothes lay flat as if I disappeared. Women and children have an entirely different theory. They seem to remove the clothing as if they were on fire. Jeans rolled down from the waist with the socks and underwear buried somewhere in between. An entire wardrobe is reduced to a single textile ball. I have seen prostitutes undress with more deliberation. What I meant to say was I have a friend who has seen prostitutes undress with more deliberation. It takes longer to unravel the clothes than it does to wash and dry them. No wonder women don't like doing laundry. With all of the rules they follow I wouldn't like it either. That's why I don't follow them.

Till next.......

 . http://themeltingman.com/
 

Thursday, April 3, 2014

The Bachelor....KGB style....

Yesterday the most eligible bachelor in Russia became officially available. I wonder if Vlad Putin has thought about Match.com. Perhaps his profile would include:Likes, horseback riding (shirtless preferred) fishing (shirtless preferred) wrestling with bears, world domination, board games (Risk is my favorite) Dislikes: Freedom, opposing viewpoints, mom jeans. With a profile like that who wouldn't want to date a man who has probably killed people with his bare hands? But if you are a small town girl, living in a lonely world and you decide to meet with the boy born and raised in south Leningrad there are a few things to avoid.

1. If he suggests that you go to dinner at an out of the way place, decline. Unless you know where Siberia is and are okay with it.Stick to a busy place with plenty of eye witnesses.
2. Try not to ask too many personal questions. Rumor has it Vlad is a bit secretive. What's your favorite color? (Red) That is a safe one. Do you prefer poison or just starving your enemies is a question better suited for later in the relationship.
3. Try to steer clear of politics and religion.Vlad does not take well to people who disagree with him on politics. He has a disturbing tendency to have them killed. Religion is another touchy subject with him, judging by the number of people who suggested other ideas and disappeared. Stick to the basics.
4. Try to keep the conversation focused on the things you like and your history. He has probably been spying on you anyway and already knows the answers. It may seem a little creepy when he tells you he already knew the name of your childhood dog but play along. He is ex-KGB after all.
5. The last, but certainly not least, thing to avoid is moving too fast. Let's face it, he's a pretty good catch. He's got a good job, (until his party loses power, then he will be killed) he has a nice house,(palace) and doesn't mind getting his hands dirty.(good or bad) He seems to be a man's man in a world where there are fewer of them everyday.(Because he's having them killed) As attractive as all this may be, I wouldn't demand that he 'put a ring on it' right away. With the language barrier that could be misconstrued. He might put a ring on your wrist and ankles. We call them shackles but they are round metal bands either way.
I didn't include this on the list but stay away from a low cut top. Vladimir has a set of man cans that are probably a C cup and you don't want to make him feel inferior. Try to look at his eyes and keep from staring at his moobs. It might save your life.


Till next.......

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

A travelers guide to driving the country....

  During the past decade circumstances have led me to experience driving across our great country no less than 50 times. In 2013 I was lucky enough (if you like driving) to drive through at least 13 different states. I don't want to report on the states themselves because you can find information on them easily. This post is to assist travelers in the most critical part of long distance driving, the good, the bad and the ugly of convenience stores. Gas, food, drinks and a place to go to the bathroom are the cornerstones of the journey, so where you choose to stop becomes a big deal.
  There are a few basic rules one should pay attention to when picking a store. Number one is that if they put your purchases in a black, opaque trash bag you have not chosen wisely. This indicates that most of what they sell is not to be seen by the public. There are signs you are in one of these places when you walk in. Magazines that are covered with a sheet that has the word 'adult' scrawled across it by a sharpie is one. Another would be a rack of DVD's with titles that state simply, 'Black on White' or 'Gay'. If you see either of these things and still decide you have to use the restroom, stop immediately and check your shoelaces. Make sure they are tied tight and not dragging on the floor. You do not want them dragging the floor picking up who knows what and then having to be tied by your fingers.(This is good advice for even the cleanest of restrooms) Unless the need to be there is urgent, drive to another location. You chose poorly.
  The Number two rule on my list is try to pick a recognized chain to stop at. Quick Trip is the best of breed for me service and cleanliness wise. Always helpful, friendly and the gas prices are very competitive. The national truck stops like Love's, T&A Travel Centers and Flying Pilot J are pretty good too. These always have one big selling point, number of restroom stalls. If you are the type of road warrior I am, you have a tendency to ignore the warning signs of needing a bathroom until the last possible moment. At this point, the availability of an open stall becomes the only concern. Well, that and toilet paper in the dispenser, or at least a roll on the back of the tank. Truck stops have done their research because they usually have more stalls than some of the casinos in Vegas. Try not to risk picking a small unknown station for these stops. I have watched Alfred Hitchcock movies that were not as scary as some of the restrooms in these places.  
  The last rule I try and follow concerns food. If you can spare the time, pick a restaurant close by. Every store has the usual assortment of snacks, chips, donuts and even pre-packaged sandwiches. Stay away from the sandwiches if possible. If you are religious I recommend praying after you eat if you choose one. Some places have a grill and small counter where they cook on site. Make sure you check the posted health inspection score. If it is below your grade in high school algebra, run away. Anything below an 80 means the cockroaches are committing suicide in the kitchen. Buffets are an invitation for intestinal chaos later in your drive. In addition to these problems, salt and pepper are generally considered 'spicy' food. On one trip we nicknamed a buffet place in Indiana, 'The House of Bland'. The average age of the patrons was north of 70 and they cooked to the crowd. In short, be afraid of gas station food, be very afraid.
  While the last piece of advice is not a rule. it does need to be mentioned. Try and stop out on the interstates as opposed to downtown locations. I have stopped in downtown Nashville, Cincinnati, Dallas, Louisville, Milwaukee, Chicago and Atlanta. Those are just a few and I can safely say that they are more expensive, more dangerous and usually filthy. They also have an annoying habit of closing the restrooms because of crime concerns. Nothing can bring down the mood of a trip quicker than your wife, daughter or girlfriend telling you they had to hover above the seat to use the restroom. Although this adds conversation for the next 50 miles about how you could be so insensitive to stop at such a disgusting place, it's not worth it. Any store that has bars or Plexiglas separating you from the employee is a bad place to be. (Especially at night) I have stopped at some downtown locations that have an armed police officer on duty. This does not indicate a high rating from the Better Business Bureau. Do not linger here any longer then is needed unless you are armed.

Till next.....

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

The art of being interviewed....

"What are thoughts about an outline?" "My hope is not to have one drawn around me in chalk anytime soon."  I answered. It was not the answer the person conducting the interview was expecting judging by sound of laughter. This happened today during a phone interview for a local newspaper about my novel, The Melting Man and the upcoming second book. There were a few questions and answers that won't make the print edition but I thought they were at least worthy of a post. Here are some of the more sarcastic and flippant responses.

  "Where does your thought process begin for writing a story?" "Most of it comes from the twisted part of my brain, some from my heart and just a little from my groin." This one was followed by an uncomfortable silence while he was trying to figure out if I was serious. He caught on pretty quick that I wasn't it.
  "You said earlier that many of the characters were somewhat biographical. Was it hard for you to talk about yourself?" I answered cheerfully, "I hope not or this whole interview is going to be kind of one-sided."
  "Good point, did you have a drinking problem like Matt Maki?" Hmm..."No. Matt Maki had a drinking problem like me when I was 18 years old. I took mine to a level far beyond anything Matt ever achieved."
  "Oh. Is it hard to write about something so personal?" A long pause followed by,"Enough time has gone by that I can look back it without too much pain. Do you know what I mean?" He surprised me and answered my rhetorical question,"I've had tough times in my life that seem funny now." I couldn't resist, "High School Prom? Gym class? First time at a strip club?" He chuckled and said, "Most of those and a couple you missed." We both laughed and I was very thankful he had a sense of humor. Up until that point, who knew?
  
  It is obvious that at some point I'm going to need a Kevin Costner/Crash Davis type of mentor to throw my fungus covered shower shoes at me and then give me guidance and wisdom on how to deal with fame. (It's from the movie Bull Durham, if you haven't seen it, you should) I'm not suggesting that I will ever be famous, but the odds may be dropping with every interview. I have another one scheduled for the end of the week. My plan is to watch 60 Minutes re-runs with Mike Wallace and all the episodes of the Oprah show I can find on You Tube. That should be enough to prepare me for anything, past, present or future.

  The last question he asked required my best answer. "Do you see yourself being a full time author one day?" Wait for it, wait for it, timing is everything, "How in the hell am I going to be a full time author if I only do it one day?" I asked him. He figured out that question was rhetorical.

Till next...... 
  

Friday, March 21, 2014

Oh..That is what you mean by Bi.....I misunderstood.

   There was a time when I used to consider myself to be in pretty good physical shape. I enjoyed running, biking and lifting weights plus I would play any sport I was asked to play. Baseball, softball, tennis or golf, it didn't matter to me. If you needed a player I was in. That led me to doing endurance races like half marathons, century bike rides and then, a biathlon. Not the kind you see in the Winter Olympics where they ski with a rifle on their back and then stop and shoot at targets.( As a side note, who the hell came up with that idea?) This was one that combined riding a bike and running. Much better than skiing and shooting.
   When I read the entry form, okay, I glanced at the form and saw the time, date and distance, I didn't read the whole thing. I was far too busy to be bothered with details. What I gathered was it was a 10k run (6.2 miles for those who are metrically challenged) and a 52 mile bike ride. At the time I was running 30 miles a week and could ride a bike for 50 miles without much pain. Oh yea, I got this. After loading up my bike I drove to the event and strode to the check in desk brimming with confidence. That changed quickly.
   Smiling wide I asked the lady at the desk if we were running first or biking. She looked at me sideways before answering, "The run is first, then the bike ride and then you run again." I said thanks and turned away before it hit me. I turned back around and asked,"What did you mean by 'run again', or am I confused?" "You run the first 10k and then ride your bike for 52 miles and then run another 10k. That's why it's a biathlon." she said without much encouragement. The look on my face must have indicated I didn't know what I had volunteered for because she asked if I wanted to withdraw. I shook my head no and headed to drop off my bike. I could hear them laughing as I walked away. They knew I was screwed. So did I.
   The first run went well. I don't remember the exact time but I know it was under 45 minutes. Pretty good for a weekend warrior. Then came the bike ride. I killed it. The course was flat and the wind hadn't kicked up yet and I was on a roll. It was probably one of the fastest rides I have ever done. And once the competitive juices got flowing I pushed it to my limit. When I jumped off the bike I was feeling great.
   Then I stood up for the final run. I couldn't extend my legs. It looked like I had just climbed out of a clown car. Imagine you are sitting in a chair and then try and run. It is very hard and looks ridiculous. Normally I am a shade under 6 feet tall but I'm pretty sure I ran the entire way at about 4 feet 10 inches tall. My eyes seemed like they were level with my knees. If they had laptops back then I could have balanced it on my lap when I was running. If memory serves right, it was the last biathlon I ever participated in.
  The moral of this story is probably that you should read the entire entry form. Clint Eastwood actually gave pretty good advice when he said," A man's got to know his limitations." Well said, Dirty Harry, well said.

Till next...... 
   

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Death of a Salesman...The Tesla Model.

   There is a really fascinating and disruptive business practice being implemented by the car company Tesla. In certain states, if you want a Tesla you can go online or call and order one. Delivered right to your door, without the requisite poorly dressed salesman standing before you, arms crossed, asking,"What's it going to take for you to but the car today". Nobody leading you into the 'closing cubicle' with the harsh overhead lighting, leaving you alone for 10 minutes while they 'run it by my manager', just you and your computer. I know everybody has been talked down to or patronized by a car salesman at one time or another. Could there be anything better than making your buying decision without all that noise? Well, yes and no.
   Salesman, any type, are certainly derided because the first thing that comes to mind is the high pressure, fast talking, pushy, won't take no for an answer type of person. And with good reason in a lot of cases.Who hasn't had the phone ring during dinner with someone calling to find out if you have adequately planned for your eventual demise by buying life insurance? Am I the only person who has gone into a store to buy something and walked out with three extra things and a warranty for all of them? Then you get home and you have the same feeling that occurs after a night of drinking when you ask yourself, "What did I do". There is no doubt that a bad salesman can leave you broke, confused and filled with regret, sound familiar?
   Several states have decided they don't want Tesla to sell inside their borders. Auto dealers and car companies are a powerful force and they are not really hip to the idea of people not having to visit a showroom to buy a car for obvious reasons. That is a problem they need to work out right? If they don't like the way Tesla is doing business, maybe they should change. Valid points to be sure, but before we go Willy Loman and kill all the salesman, let me offer another way of looking at the situation.
   Nothing starts until someone sells something. Business is based on someone buying a good or service, and until they do, nothing happens. If there is a person who can help that sale take place to the benefit of the buyer and the seller, they become a very valuable person indeed. A good salesman doesn't just sell, he advises, he makes the sale easier and in certain cases, he won't sell. Have you ever had a salesman tell you not to go with his company, or buy his product? I have and I have advised potential clients not to switch to my company. They had a fair deal, were getting good service and were happy. Why would I change that?
   Truth be told, we are all salespeople. Have you ever gone out on a date? If you're a woman, did you wear make up? Nice clothes? Guys, did you wear cologne? Comb your hair and brush your teeth? Did you try and appear interested and make sure you conversed with intelligence and insight? What were you selling? Parents, how many times have you tried to sell your kids? Never? Please! Santa Claus? Easter Bunny? Everyday you walk out of your front door, you are a salesperson. The best salespeople get paid very well and are admired by their clients. And they should be. Don't you love a good server who leads you through a menu and makes suggestions? Or the agent who knows how much of a product or coverage you need for your situation and tells you why? One thing the Internet model hasn't been able to do yet is provide the personal service a salesperson can. Is it worth the possibility of a bad experience? Your call.
    Several months ago I was running errands and walked into a coffee shop that really could use my services. They had a credit card machine that hasn't been manufactured in five years ( I sell merchant processing). It also was located 15 feet from the counter so not only was it slow, it was slowing down the entire business. I stepped up to the counter and politely asked for the owner. The lady said she was the owner and I replied, "Great. Is there  a chance I could schedule an appointment to talk to you about improving the speed of your business?" She pointed to the sign in the front window and loudly asked if I could read. I stared at the NO SOLICITING sign and turned back and said I would take that as a no. Without another word, I turned and left. Two weeks later I walked in on a busy Saturday morning and stood in line. When I got to the counter the owner asked what I wanted. I just stared back. She asked again what I wanted. I cleared my throat and loudly asked, "Do you know what soliciting means? Can't you read the sign?" I turned and left without another word. I'm sure she was surprised to find it means to ask urgently.

Till next.....

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

The best reality show ever begins.....

  It only happens once a year and it is totally unscripted. Of course I am speaking of the NCAA College Basketball Tournament. You will not hear me call it March Madness. That is the term that should be reserved for the number of snowstorms that roll through my hometown of Painesdale, Michigan every year. The rest of the country looks forward to spring while the snow just keeps on coming. Now that is madness.
  I won't refer to "The Big Dance" either. When I was growing up the big dance was the Homecoming dance. It also happened once a year and like the tournament, it was filled with pressure. With my long hair, big nose, bigger ears and questionable fashion choices, I was rejection looking for a place to sit. As a teenager, the pressure you are under when you approach a girl to dance is equal to any jump shot a basketball player might take. Much like the tournament, there is only one winner and I wasn't it. At least there was only four of these torture chambers before I graduated. Oh, did I mention the fact I can't dance? The best description of my dancing would be a cross between seizures and The Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. Not smooth at all.
  The tournament doesn't need all the over-used nicknames. It is the greatest reality show going and has been since 1979 when Larry Bird and Magic Johnson faced each other and the most of the nation became interested. For three weeks the ultimate drama unfolds in real time, win and you play again, lose and you go home. There are no scripts, no pre-determined outcomes and guarantees. Many of the stars of the show only play for a year or two yet the plot goes on. Small schools most people have never heard of have a chance to perform in front of millions of people for the first and maybe only time in their lives. Bigger schools are more accustomed to the bright lights but aren't assured anything but the chance to advance. The players mostly play for the love of the game or the school. In reality, it doesn't get any better.
   Shows like The Voice, American Idol, Biggest Loser and Survivor garner huge ratings every year. But are they truly reality shows? I don't think so. Perhaps the bigger question is why do we love these types of shows so much? With the tournament, the answers are easy. You have the brackets, office pools and wagering for starters. For the more serious fans, you have a four day weekend starting tomorrow with a pizza delivery man on speed dial and a full refrigerator with adult beverages ready to go. Or for the real die-hards, you head to the post office and fill out the form to have your mail forwarded to your favorite sports bar for the next three weeks and head to the bar. (Thanks to those of you who did this, you know who you are.) Even for the person who could care less there are benefits. That sports nerd who won't shut up is so engrossed in his brackets that he leaves you alone for the better part of a month. Everybody wins.
   My best guess on why we love reality shows so much is the thrill of vicariously living through other people. We love to see the underdog win against the odds because we can imagine ourselves doing it. Or watching someone conquer the demons within them because we all have them and want to beat them as well. Sometimes we love reality because it makes us feel better about ourselves. C'mon now, who hasn't watched a Real Housewives of wherever or Honey Boo Boo and said, "At least I'm not that much of a train wreck." Have you ever wondered if you should audition for Hoarders? Do you sing in the shower and think The Voice is next on your list? If you really love the reality shows, then pull up a chair and call in sick for work. The greatest show ever produced starts tomorrow and you don't want to miss the first episode.....

Till next.....