The Third Wave on the Beach!!

Just got back from the annual witnessing of the great Free-Enterprise system. It's like one of those rare cactus flowers that only blooms one night in its life at about four in the morning and by dawn, its dead.

Now, don't look at us like that. We aren't so pushed to sit in line to save six dollars on a 50 inch big screen. Our mission formed about three years ago when we first went out. Now, we just want to see the phenomena.

The first desert flower we went to was Target. They have a different crowd. They stood in line, reading books and discussing Dostoevsky, all in a British accent. We got in line, followed the calm, well-mannered pack into the store and the women went one direction and I went the other way, towards the coffee. I found a quiet section next to the lettuce and was amazed that the store, at least from that perspective, was empty. I did buy some Christmas lights, which, according to my teammates was a lame purchase. They were purple. Sure, the house will look like a brothel but I like the color.

After Target, we moved to Walmart. And life changed its tune.

Now, my firm belief is that this store is the epitome of the American way of life. Its really not, and frankly, its scary, but the vortex of the enterprise system can be found in the center aisle in the center of the store. No discussions about Russian writers here. Nope, this is not a place for the weak of stomach or heart. Lines were formed INSIDE the store. If you wanted the big screen TV, you found yourself in line in the cereal aisle. If you looked around and found yourself standing next to the avocados, you had no chance of getting one of the six-hundred TV's being sold. You'd have a better chance with the portable TV player the size of your wallet. No line for that one. It was right next to the women's jammies. There was even a line for coffee at the McDonalds in the store.

It was hard to find a wall that I could put my back too. Yes, there was a desire to put my back against a wall or any solid object. You see, there were people there you don't routinely see during daylight hours. There was also a lot of illegal use of spandex at this store. Tensile strength of fabrics and buttons were being tested as well. There were people who you could tell, didn't have enough money to buy soup, and yet had two big screens in their cart. Somehow, in their minds, they had a plan to money-enough to top off their Thunderbird wine collection.

By the time we stepped outside, the sun was starting to peak over the horizon. The edge of the early morning was starting to fade the bloom. Pallets of purchased goods were finding their way to their new homes and our team was now heading for breakfast. Done for another year of observing what America is uniquely known for.

I love this country! I really do. First of all, most countries, when you go shopping, don't have floors, so we have that going for us. Secondly, where else can we observe, actually participate in some of the most flagrant violations of self-image without anyone really caring? In some countries, they arrest you and after you've aged for a few months in prison, they take you out and make a fine chili out your butt. Not here. People just watch you walk by and compare your stuff with what's in their possession and then are easily distracted about when the last time they took their meds were.

So, maybe next year, I'll sleep in. Then again, I might get up to see the flower bloom-one more time.

Thank you

So, Thanksgiving. Every year I tell my students to write a letter to someone and tell them you are thankful for them-tell them why you’re thankful for them. For some of the students, it is the start of a huge healing process. For others, it’s the hardest thing they’ve ever done. The students need to say it to those that impact them. The people need to hear it. Well, I guess that applies to the old man.

What am I thankful for? There is the list of standard answers, health, job, family, God, all of those work. But this year, for whatever reason, it cuts close to the bone.

I am grateful for my daughter, Jeannette, and her husband Matt, for standing firm in their love and commitment to each other and to model that image to their two kids. That is a rare thing, the model they provide. Matt sees a lot in his job that could turn him hard, but he is a Pooh Bear around his kids and a gentle soul to his wife. Good form.

I am grateful to my daughter, Jessica, and her husband Matthew, for standing firm in the faith. They are also committed to reaching out to others and pulling them into their world of safety and love. Both are careful with their love and they spend it on others, caring and listening to wounding and providing a home that is safe and loving.

I am grateful to my son Travis, and his new bride, Tara. They haven’t had a chance to follow the traditions of a marriage just starting out. Their love is truly a test of fire, with Travis in a world of darkness and evil. Yet he stands, sometimes held up only by his Father, but he is still standing, taking care of his team and somehow—somehow, reaching back a half world to his wife, stroking her face with his words of love and commitment. She, in turn, affirms him, causing his back to straighten and to make it, one more day—back into the breach.

I am grateful to my wife, Joni, who has committed herself to loving me for decades—DECADES. Not a lot of marriages can say that word when it relates to their marriages. It has been not without struggles, down and dirty struggles, but now at the apex of our lives, we can see the product of grace. It is because of her that I can see it.

Sometimes, we need to look pretty hard to see what we have. Sometimes, we need to work at looking. It’s hard—miserably hard, sometimes. But it’s there. The beauty of the life we have, it’s there. Sometimes, we just need to take a breath and relax for a moment. I hope you can find moments of peace this Thanksgiving. I hope you can find someone to say ‘thanks’ to. Tell them. Grab them by the shoulders if you have to and tell them they have impacted your life and that you love them. That word, love, isn’t used enough outside of TV shows and bar talk. In the real world, Love is a sacrifice word. When you love someone, you’re willing to say you stand with that person in the fires of Hell. Yep, it’s that big. So, if you have seen it demonstrated to you, thank the giver.

It cost them dearly.

Thanksgiving and the Shopping Quandry

Guess what time of year it is? Unless you've been in a coma; a victim of a kidnapping, rolled up in carpet and locked up in a steel storage shed; or less than five other things to keep you from reality, you know its time to be gearing up for Aunt Martha's, just outside Cincinnati, to see the cousins and your mom and dad along with that pesky Tommy Chulansky who grew up with you and your sister and brother and eventually convinced your sister that his career as a telephone service sales representative for a magazine company, was a good enough foundation to start a marriage. Yeah, he'll be there in his leisure suit and pawing your sister and telling her how beautiful she is after five kids. Oh, crap, that's right--THE FIVE KIDS WILL BE THERE TOO!

But there is a greater concern this time of year, a more important focus we need to look at, shopping. That's right, groceries or gifts, it doesn't make any difference. Let me ask a few pertinent questions and see if you agree. Today, its the food we will objectively look at.

First, I was restocking the shelves, walking the aisle of my favorite warehouse store, when I came across the cheese section. I love cheese. I can eat cheese until I bind up like a longshoreman on a D-2 CAT forklift, but do I want a cheese that is advertised as ruggedly matured? What is a cheese that is labeled as that? One that had a hard childhood? Does it wear flannel shirts and carry an axe when the store is closed? What does that mean? So, I bought it. Hey, I needed cheese and I figured a cheese that's been working out is better than a cheese that's been sitting on the couch.

What about anything labeled earthy? Do I really want to slather butter on something that will taste like the mulch in my rose garden? There are breads out there labeled earth grain-as opposed to Moon grain or grains of Mars.

How about a full-bodied wine? Usually this happens to reds, Merlot, Cabernet, not the whites. I guess the reds live in a more ruggedly matured neighborhood and there are more amputee-type grapes. I think that's sad that you can't use a handicapped grape, or one that is physically challenged,to be more politically correct. I think the Feds should look into this for discrimination against handicapped grapes! The fact is, I wouldn't walk away from a half-bodied, or quarter-impaired wine if the price was right. Mix in a little 7-Up and we are good to go. This is a big issue with my favorite, scotch.

Scotch comes from all over Scotland. Some places, the water they use, comes from areas heavy in peat. Drinking that scotch is like licking the ashes of a campfire WHILE the fire is still lit. If you had a low testosterone level before, you will have a full beard by the time you're done with one glass.

I was forced to watch one of those home channels the other night. I was forced because it was on and I was too tired to change the channel. The home decorator was reworking some poor couples spare bedroom. It looked like all our bedrooms-packed floor to ceiling with crap. This decorator starting throwing around the word organic. He was referring at the time to the chrome lamp. Now, its been a while since high school chemistry, but I do remember that for something to be organic, that something had to have a carbon atom in it. Chrome doesn't have a carbon atom. It has chrome atoms. I think he was trying to refer to something ruggedly mature or full-bodied.

Who the hell knows.

All I know is that bird at the top of this article is one of the ugliest animals on this planet and needs killing. It needs to be on sale at 29 cents at Fry's and enough to feed a gaggle of people at my daughter's house within the fifteen minutes it takes a group to eat a meal that took two days to fix.

I'll bring the peaty stuff. There, quandry over.

Rocket Men--er and Rocket Women!!

I went to my thirty-fourth year reunion last night. I posted a blog yesterday about going. Well, I went and I have to say, I was surprised. It was really good, lots of old people, some who looked like they hadn’t aged at all, and many in various stages of life that ran the spectrum. The food was good, conversations, atmosphere; all of it went really well. I think the high point for me was that Elton John showed up.

Elton John.

No, not the real one. This one was better. He had brought a huge victory story with him.

At this reunion, there was a band. I think it was a compilation of former student musicians. They played as the hired band and they were really good. Later in the evening, the piano player came out-dressed like Elton John. For the next forty-five minutes he played and sang like Elton John too. Amazing. I sat there with my smuggled-in scotch (all they had was that blended crap) and sipped and listened. What was even more amazing and what added a taste of sweet victory to this story is this former student, piano player fellow had a stroke two years ago.

He had lost everything, including, I was told, his memory.

Now he was mimicking one of the premier piano players in the history of piano playing. And he made people smile.

This reunion was probably are watershed moment for those in attendance. Running this reunion for a ten year graduation span was a good idea, lots of people came, but it was also an indicator. A reunion in another ten or even five years, will find less and less people. Strokes, illness, distance, will begin to seriously take its toll.

But for a few minutes last night, we were hopping fences and feeling the touch of youth again. For a few minutes, we were all Rocket Men.

Heading into Life's Turn

Well today, actually, late this afternoon, I'm going to my high school reunion. It isn't a particular number, well, I guess it is. Let's see, I graduated in 1976 and its 2010 now, one plus one carry the four- it will be my thirty-fourth reunion. It's not the crystal or gold of reunion celebrations. It's a convenience.

I came from a large school. We had 2300 kids on our school and we graduated well over 400 in 1976. Our first reunion, five years in, we had about 200, not bad. But its been down hill ever since. The last eight reunions (seems like eight) we've been teaming up with other years, just so we can get a good group rate on the chicken breast or Fiesta Platters. This year, we are having a decade reunion. Anyone who went to West High (now its called Metro Tech) in Phoenix in the 70's can come tonight. Out of about 4400 graduating students, I think 200 signed up.

Not bad.

Which means, based on traditional math usage-one plus one, carry the two divide--I should know 2 people. I think its important that I go. Not necessarily to see everyone. I haven't been in contact with that group except on rare-distant occasions where we've maybe ran into each other in prison or something. Nope, I think I need to go because the reunions after this one, and yes, I am sure we will have at least a dozen more, will really get interesting. You see, from now until the end of the race, we are going to start losing chunks of the original herd to old age, disease, bus accidents, etc.

"Did ya hear about Pete?"
"No, what happened?"
"Hit by a train!"
"A train?"
"Yup, in his sleep! Jis lying there mindin' his own and WHAM, train dun run him clean over. Left nothin' but a stain."

We'll gather, talk about kids, grand kids, divorces, deaths, molds that look like they should have been removed a year ago, food allergies, heart meds. Heck, I can hold my own in that field.

Now if I can just remember where I left my car keys.