One hot, sunny, sticky, sweltering Sunday afternoon in the not so distant few weeks past I heard a knock on the door. My neighbor, we shall call him J. came over to see if the kid would like to go swimming at their pool.
DW said sure and took the boy over. I informed her that I needed to work on my fence and didn't plan on making an appearance. As I worked my fence posts in my back yard, I could hear the splashing and the joy coming from my boy as he cooled off in the above ground pond half encircled by a sun weathered deck.
I was noticed and called so I went over to say hello and brag on my "big" little feller in the big boy pool. After listening to a brief but disconcerting discourse on Nascar and Alabama football, I politely excused myself to continue my toils.
No sooner than I had gotten back into the details of my task, I heard J. yelling my name from across the way. So I trekked back over. Apparently J. had been pestering DW to get in the pool so she told him to "tell the boys daddy to come get in the pool" with the kid. She later informed me that J. had to ask what my name was.
Now back over at J.'s I began to notice two things. One, J. was rather rapidly consuming more than his share of adult beverages and two, he would stop asking my wife to get in the pool, clothes and "everything".
I tell "guy" that she isn't going to comply. I remove my shirt (easy ladies) and jump in the pool. I play with Jackson. Its fine, fun even however I was never quite comfortable making this visit. J. goes into depth on an array of pointless topics, constantly repeating himself in his progressive stupor until he makes the oddest of comments. Ol'J. starts telling me what a good woman his wife his and so forth and so on.
Now I am starting to question what the ol'boy's intentions are. If he says the first danged word about being swingers I'd have punched him in the gullet and calmly walked back to the safety of our own domain. Somehow the conversation reverts back to the repetitive jibbersh he spewed earlier.
Once again he mentioned to DW that she needed to just go ahead and get in the pool and at that point we made and executive decision on our end and began to leave. In my haste to leave, J. who was quite drunk by this time made reference to my work ..ing my fence. He pledged right then and there his devotion to help me with my fence if I'd help him with his.
Granted, I am more than happy to help a neighbor, but this son of a gun watched me build the fronts and sides to my privacy fence last summer. He watched and made comments as I hit and dug up boulders in my attempt at setting posts. So my work on the fence at this point in the story was rather minor. It was the last hurrah to tie the back of the fence together as to enclose that baby for future dogs and whatever else you do with a completely closed in back yard. Suffice it to say, I needed zero help. Also dear reader, I am not sure if it's been mentioned but I like things my way. I am quite particular about how tasks get completed, very picky you might say.
I left and told J. that sure, I'd help "him". Next thing I know as I am beginning to set posts is that I see J. sneaking into my back yard, shirtless and shoeless, to help a brother out.
He caught me at a bad time. A few of you may be aware, but I have constant nagging knee problems. I was bent over clutching a knee that appeared to have locked up on me. So J. assumed that I really needed help at that point. He picked up the post hole diggers and started wailing on my previously completed and tamped holes. As he raised the height of the holes and ignored my pleas to stop, his wife came over and scolded him for not wearing shoes. She also asked him to watch their baby.
I tried to convince him that I was at a stopping point but instead I wound up watching a baby and a drunk. He asked if I was going to sink the posts in concrete. Why oh why Lord did I not simply say, "no".
So he walked over to pick up and place an 80 pound sack of concrete in my wheel barrow. My yard has some crown or slope so when he attempted to grab the sack he and the wheel barrow went tumbling. It was pretty funny except that he was mucking up my whole operation.
After I placed the sack in the wheel barrow I watched him try to tear into the bag with his bare hands. It got worse. He started mixing the cement with his bare hands. I could not get a hoe in the wheel barrow to save my life. Wonder what he did next? He started scooping the cement with his hands and dumping it in my holes where the posts sat waiting. Dude's wife came over and said "honey, use a shovel". I informed her that apparently J. didn't believe in shovels.
I think she realized how perturbed ol'RW had become so she scolded J. and made him go home, but not before I hosed concrete off his face, arms, chest and legs.
He came over the next day to apologize, admitting that he didn't really remember what had happened. And praise be to the Lord that he hasn't attempted to assist me in my further tasks even though I caught him watching, longing to help.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Why didn’t you get your own fries?
Sunday, April 20, 2008
we trotted over to BK to get a quick bite for din din. my hands were stained from potting soil. i could have cared, but i didnt (and yes i was wearing my shorts).
so i get a burger and some fries. i dont even want a burger and some fries. i really dont want the fries expessially. But when my wife who didnt get any fries starts eating fries off of my laid flat burger wrapper / plate substitute, i friggin lost it.
i didnt really lose it so that you would notice. i cut my eyes and asked why she didnt get her own fries. she acted like i lost it and threw three (count them, one two three) french fries at me. it was priceless. we looked like we belonged, what with me in my shorts, us with landscaping stained hands and throwing fries all willy nilly at each other.
on the inside yes, i was really peeved at her grabbing my fries.
she said that was selfish and rude. i said that it was a normal guy response. guys' minds if not kept in check revert back to teen age fight or flight mentality over food. my mind says " yo rob, you know we need two burgers, not just one burgers and dont forget fries or we will die of starvation, jess saying".
to bring this story to a quick close, i would like to finish by saying that we didnt even finish the fries. we didnt want those nasty things in the first place.
we might even kiss and make up later...hubba hubba.
we trotted over to BK to get a quick bite for din din. my hands were stained from potting soil. i could have cared, but i didnt (and yes i was wearing my shorts).
so i get a burger and some fries. i dont even want a burger and some fries. i really dont want the fries expessially. But when my wife who didnt get any fries starts eating fries off of my laid flat burger wrapper / plate substitute, i friggin lost it.
i didnt really lose it so that you would notice. i cut my eyes and asked why she didnt get her own fries. she acted like i lost it and threw three (count them, one two three) french fries at me. it was priceless. we looked like we belonged, what with me in my shorts, us with landscaping stained hands and throwing fries all willy nilly at each other.
on the inside yes, i was really peeved at her grabbing my fries.
she said that was selfish and rude. i said that it was a normal guy response. guys' minds if not kept in check revert back to teen age fight or flight mentality over food. my mind says " yo rob, you know we need two burgers, not just one burgers and dont forget fries or we will die of starvation, jess saying".
to bring this story to a quick close, i would like to finish by saying that we didnt even finish the fries. we didnt want those nasty things in the first place.
we might even kiss and make up later...hubba hubba.
Spectors in the Morning
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Lots of ppl that i have heard or read that see ghosts, see them in the early morning when the sun is shining through the windows even though the drapes are closed and the ppl are still sleepy.
this morning as i walked from the laundry room back to the bedroom i saw an image slowly turning its head towards me. it was my wife on the potty. i exclaimed in a shriek, "why you gotta sneak up on me in the mornings?".
she had no reply as she was sleep walking and probably didnt even hear me.
a few minutes later, dressed and getting ready to go, i was searching through the very top cabinets for my various vitamins. on my tippy toes reaching for a bottle of vitamin C, i saw something float towards me. again, it was the wife coming around a blind corner.
i yelled at her, "geez, i thought you were a spector! you almost gave me a heart attack woman."
"A spector?", she questioned.
"yeah, like a ghost or a demon or something."
She punched me in the arm.
i left for work.
Lots of ppl that i have heard or read that see ghosts, see them in the early morning when the sun is shining through the windows even though the drapes are closed and the ppl are still sleepy.
this morning as i walked from the laundry room back to the bedroom i saw an image slowly turning its head towards me. it was my wife on the potty. i exclaimed in a shriek, "why you gotta sneak up on me in the mornings?".
she had no reply as she was sleep walking and probably didnt even hear me.
a few minutes later, dressed and getting ready to go, i was searching through the very top cabinets for my various vitamins. on my tippy toes reaching for a bottle of vitamin C, i saw something float towards me. again, it was the wife coming around a blind corner.
i yelled at her, "geez, i thought you were a spector! you almost gave me a heart attack woman."
"A spector?", she questioned.
"yeah, like a ghost or a demon or something."
She punched me in the arm.
i left for work.
Maid Close to Manhattan
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Maid Close To Manhattan? A play on the movie title "Maid in Manhattan"...get it? Yeah, it didn’t really work for me so much either.
I am between NYC and Englewood NJ this week. The maid at my hotel spent time lounging in my room today. How do I know this? Read the following true life story of one Rob Wylie.
I arrived back to my room this evening about 6:30pm. The maid knocked on the door almost as soon as I closed it. She handed me a bottle of Saratoga natural spring water and two chocolates with a smile. This water comes in a fancy blue-ish purple bottle. Its quite stunning for bottled water actually. As I drink it I imagine that I dipped it from an actual natural spring....nah not really, but you get the point.
So the maid gives me the chocolates, winks, says "ok" in the form of a question and walks away. "Ok" I say back in my best spanish accent.
They are supposed to leave the water and sweets in the room when they clean. They usually clean the rooms around midday. I thought that was a tad fishy but whatever, my feet hurt and I wanted to rest.
The night before I had been watching television and turned the closed caption off because it was bothering me. Tonight when I turned the television on, the closed caption was on again, but now in espanol. "Aha!", someone had been watching television in my room. I put two and two together. The maid is hispanic. The television shows were in spanish. Who else could it be?
My room is at the very end of the hall so I imagine that she sat in here, supervisors unaware and watched her spanish soap operas for a while. There are like four spanish channels on this television. Unbelievable.
I feel as though my privacy has been invaded. I unadvisedly left valuables in the room but they appear in order. Who really knows til I discover something missing though.
I leave for Alabama tomorrow, but before I jet out of here, I am going to try and catch her. I will update on how that turns out...maybe.
Maid Close To Manhattan? A play on the movie title "Maid in Manhattan"...get it? Yeah, it didn’t really work for me so much either.
I am between NYC and Englewood NJ this week. The maid at my hotel spent time lounging in my room today. How do I know this? Read the following true life story of one Rob Wylie.
I arrived back to my room this evening about 6:30pm. The maid knocked on the door almost as soon as I closed it. She handed me a bottle of Saratoga natural spring water and two chocolates with a smile. This water comes in a fancy blue-ish purple bottle. Its quite stunning for bottled water actually. As I drink it I imagine that I dipped it from an actual natural spring....nah not really, but you get the point.
So the maid gives me the chocolates, winks, says "ok" in the form of a question and walks away. "Ok" I say back in my best spanish accent.
They are supposed to leave the water and sweets in the room when they clean. They usually clean the rooms around midday. I thought that was a tad fishy but whatever, my feet hurt and I wanted to rest.
The night before I had been watching television and turned the closed caption off because it was bothering me. Tonight when I turned the television on, the closed caption was on again, but now in espanol. "Aha!", someone had been watching television in my room. I put two and two together. The maid is hispanic. The television shows were in spanish. Who else could it be?
My room is at the very end of the hall so I imagine that she sat in here, supervisors unaware and watched her spanish soap operas for a while. There are like four spanish channels on this television. Unbelievable.
I feel as though my privacy has been invaded. I unadvisedly left valuables in the room but they appear in order. Who really knows til I discover something missing though.
I leave for Alabama tomorrow, but before I jet out of here, I am going to try and catch her. I will update on how that turns out...maybe.
Ski Trip
Thursday, January 24, 2008
I am the most humble of persons, but to tell the truth, I am a natural skier. I am being sarcastic (not the good skier part, thats true). That's not very humble is it? Well, you know that old saying, "humble is as humble does". I made that up, I think.
We went to Beech Mountain in North Carolina recently, very recently actually. I had never skied before. My name is Rob. I am 31 years of age and I had never skied. I don't know why. I stand before you, a man, transparent. Go ahead and judge me.
I digress. We get the skiis and lift tickets and with such arrangements taken care of, off we go. I strapped on the skiis and bent over to grab my ski pole. As I did, I started to fall, caught myself and felt like I dislocated my shoulder. No biggie, I am not a girl. "Suck it up Sally", I told myself.
I watched a few people falling on the low grade bunny slope. I shook my head in disapproval. "Losers", I thought.
My turn. I stepped out onto the snow and bam. I fell so fast and hard that I didn't know what happened. I stood up pointing in two different directions screaming, "who hit me?" No one noticed or cared for that matter.
I played around on the bunny slope for a while. I helped kids, showed off my skills and started giving tips on how to slow down and stop. Sure, I'd had absolutely no formal lessons or any lessons at all for that matter, but that didn't stop me from telling people where they zigged when they should have zagged.
Really and truly, I started to get the hang of this "skiing". Another member of our posse finally asked me if was ready to step up my game, to which I said, "Ready? I was born ready!" (yeah, I am that smooth, I know you were thinking it).
Up the chair lift I went. The first slope was a lesser difficult intermediate freestyle slope. It was fairly steep enough grade with one curve. "I got this!" And I did. "Not a bad job sailor", I said to myself.
I went down that slope a few more times and began to manipulate the downhill with the greatest of ease. Back and forth I went. I was infact, King of the Mountain.
Now that I was a professional skiier in just a few short hours, I went down with the posse again and watched Holly pick up too much speed towards the end of the slope. "Slow down Holly", I screamed. "No CRAP", she screamed back (I am fairly certain she didn't say crap, again I digress).
She fell and we were terrified. She laughed after the fact. I didn't see how. It wasn't a graceful tumble. She is a real trooper.
We stood around the entrance area for a few minutes. My poor old left knee started aching so I tried to pop it while standing on the aforementioned skiis. Yeah. I fell. DW's Uncle approached me with a smile. "Rob, they are having tryouts for the Olympic ski team right over there, behind us. They said you shouldn't waste your time thinking about 2010." I gave him the thumbs up.
Larry Paul who had skiied once before asked me if I was ready to take on the big mamma jamma slope, thats right, it had a sign that said "more difficult".
"Sure, (again not tryin to seem redundant) I was born ready!"
As I started to ski over to the chair lift I felt I needed to stretch out my tired bum knee. I fell. I lost a pole. My ski came off. I was embarassed. I ski down the hill so good, but I dont stand around so well. I stood back up, gathered my equipment and slipped into the lost ski. I turned to find Larry Paul and I fell again. Awesome!
As we took the lift to the top of the mountain, I began to entertain thoughts as to how crazy this was. We were skiing at night. It was almost ten p.m. and we started around six p.m. My knee was bothering me. And we could begin to see how high up the mountain we were going. These slopes were steep. People were flying down. They looked experienced enough and BOOM, they would wipe out.
As we hopped off the chair lift and I attempted to clean the icicles and fog away from my goggles, I wondered how I would make it down without dying. What would happen if I did? How long would it take someone to find me? This probably wasnt such a good idea, but it was too late. The only way down was, well, to go down.
I forgot to mention, but my beard was covered by real icicles. Right before I was seated on the chair lift the attendant asked me if I was cold. I replied with a no and asked why? "Because you have icicles all over your face, man" he laughed.
Anyway, as Larry Paul and I headed down the mountain I tried to maintain somewhat of a controlled speed. Unfortunately it didn't work out so well for me. My knee buckled and I came a crashing down.
I found myself alive and stood jubilant that I might not die. Larry Paul would surely be much farther down by now. As I redonned my skiis, I saw someone waving like a madman. I waved back thinking it had to be Larry Paul checking on me. It wasn't.
I started back down. I skied thirty five feet or so and fell again. The snow was really hard at this point and I couldn't slow down. The harder I tried to slow, the more my knee quit. Yeah, I fell again.
A small girl, probably a pre-teen, stopped to help me gather my poles and skiis. I think she had witnessed the back to back wipe outs and was a tad concerned. Almost as though she was a worried parent I pleaded with her to go ahead and not be troubled with me. She finally left. I am sure she sent the rescue team after me on a ski mobile when she arrived at the bottom. I know this because as soon as I actually made it down, I saw them rush off in a fury as though there was a body to recover. Those ski mobiles look like big fun.
Finished for the night, I turned in my equipment. I had stared death in the face. I conquered Ski Beech. I was my hero, surprised?
I have not had so much fun in a long long time. It was the best vacation of late that I can recall. I want to go back and ski once or twice more again this winter so let me know if you would like to come with.
While on the trip Jackson became the champion of sledders like his old man. He gives it that old college try. I couldn't be prouder. Several times he just closed his eyes and yelled at the top of his lungs, "make way!"
DW was so good at the sledding that she bounced right off the sled. I gave her style points for her landing. Ask her about it.
We also had to purchase snow chains. Why you ask? While the main roads were kept in impecible condition, the "other roads" were not. We almost slid off into oblivion. That of course was the first time during the trip that I stared at death and laughed, ha...ha, harumph. I turned my nose at it. I looked the other way and just ignored it. What a snob. Jackson didn't feel the same though. He had decided temporarily that this trip was a bad decision and that we needed to get on home. He did later change his mind.
In all honesty, this trip was a blast, one of the best ever. We really appreciated the invite and the hospitality shown to us. Thanks to Eddie and Sandra and Amber and LP and Lee and Holly and Rick and Jennie and all the kids. We can't wait til next year!
I am the most humble of persons, but to tell the truth, I am a natural skier. I am being sarcastic (not the good skier part, thats true). That's not very humble is it? Well, you know that old saying, "humble is as humble does". I made that up, I think.
We went to Beech Mountain in North Carolina recently, very recently actually. I had never skied before. My name is Rob. I am 31 years of age and I had never skied. I don't know why. I stand before you, a man, transparent. Go ahead and judge me.
I digress. We get the skiis and lift tickets and with such arrangements taken care of, off we go. I strapped on the skiis and bent over to grab my ski pole. As I did, I started to fall, caught myself and felt like I dislocated my shoulder. No biggie, I am not a girl. "Suck it up Sally", I told myself.
I watched a few people falling on the low grade bunny slope. I shook my head in disapproval. "Losers", I thought.
My turn. I stepped out onto the snow and bam. I fell so fast and hard that I didn't know what happened. I stood up pointing in two different directions screaming, "who hit me?" No one noticed or cared for that matter.
I played around on the bunny slope for a while. I helped kids, showed off my skills and started giving tips on how to slow down and stop. Sure, I'd had absolutely no formal lessons or any lessons at all for that matter, but that didn't stop me from telling people where they zigged when they should have zagged.
Really and truly, I started to get the hang of this "skiing". Another member of our posse finally asked me if was ready to step up my game, to which I said, "Ready? I was born ready!" (yeah, I am that smooth, I know you were thinking it).
Up the chair lift I went. The first slope was a lesser difficult intermediate freestyle slope. It was fairly steep enough grade with one curve. "I got this!" And I did. "Not a bad job sailor", I said to myself.
I went down that slope a few more times and began to manipulate the downhill with the greatest of ease. Back and forth I went. I was infact, King of the Mountain.
Now that I was a professional skiier in just a few short hours, I went down with the posse again and watched Holly pick up too much speed towards the end of the slope. "Slow down Holly", I screamed. "No CRAP", she screamed back (I am fairly certain she didn't say crap, again I digress).
She fell and we were terrified. She laughed after the fact. I didn't see how. It wasn't a graceful tumble. She is a real trooper.
We stood around the entrance area for a few minutes. My poor old left knee started aching so I tried to pop it while standing on the aforementioned skiis. Yeah. I fell. DW's Uncle approached me with a smile. "Rob, they are having tryouts for the Olympic ski team right over there, behind us. They said you shouldn't waste your time thinking about 2010." I gave him the thumbs up.
Larry Paul who had skiied once before asked me if I was ready to take on the big mamma jamma slope, thats right, it had a sign that said "more difficult".
"Sure, (again not tryin to seem redundant) I was born ready!"
As I started to ski over to the chair lift I felt I needed to stretch out my tired bum knee. I fell. I lost a pole. My ski came off. I was embarassed. I ski down the hill so good, but I dont stand around so well. I stood back up, gathered my equipment and slipped into the lost ski. I turned to find Larry Paul and I fell again. Awesome!
As we took the lift to the top of the mountain, I began to entertain thoughts as to how crazy this was. We were skiing at night. It was almost ten p.m. and we started around six p.m. My knee was bothering me. And we could begin to see how high up the mountain we were going. These slopes were steep. People were flying down. They looked experienced enough and BOOM, they would wipe out.
As we hopped off the chair lift and I attempted to clean the icicles and fog away from my goggles, I wondered how I would make it down without dying. What would happen if I did? How long would it take someone to find me? This probably wasnt such a good idea, but it was too late. The only way down was, well, to go down.
I forgot to mention, but my beard was covered by real icicles. Right before I was seated on the chair lift the attendant asked me if I was cold. I replied with a no and asked why? "Because you have icicles all over your face, man" he laughed.
Anyway, as Larry Paul and I headed down the mountain I tried to maintain somewhat of a controlled speed. Unfortunately it didn't work out so well for me. My knee buckled and I came a crashing down.
I found myself alive and stood jubilant that I might not die. Larry Paul would surely be much farther down by now. As I redonned my skiis, I saw someone waving like a madman. I waved back thinking it had to be Larry Paul checking on me. It wasn't.
I started back down. I skied thirty five feet or so and fell again. The snow was really hard at this point and I couldn't slow down. The harder I tried to slow, the more my knee quit. Yeah, I fell again.
A small girl, probably a pre-teen, stopped to help me gather my poles and skiis. I think she had witnessed the back to back wipe outs and was a tad concerned. Almost as though she was a worried parent I pleaded with her to go ahead and not be troubled with me. She finally left. I am sure she sent the rescue team after me on a ski mobile when she arrived at the bottom. I know this because as soon as I actually made it down, I saw them rush off in a fury as though there was a body to recover. Those ski mobiles look like big fun.
Finished for the night, I turned in my equipment. I had stared death in the face. I conquered Ski Beech. I was my hero, surprised?
I have not had so much fun in a long long time. It was the best vacation of late that I can recall. I want to go back and ski once or twice more again this winter so let me know if you would like to come with.
While on the trip Jackson became the champion of sledders like his old man. He gives it that old college try. I couldn't be prouder. Several times he just closed his eyes and yelled at the top of his lungs, "make way!"
DW was so good at the sledding that she bounced right off the sled. I gave her style points for her landing. Ask her about it.
We also had to purchase snow chains. Why you ask? While the main roads were kept in impecible condition, the "other roads" were not. We almost slid off into oblivion. That of course was the first time during the trip that I stared at death and laughed, ha...ha, harumph. I turned my nose at it. I looked the other way and just ignored it. What a snob. Jackson didn't feel the same though. He had decided temporarily that this trip was a bad decision and that we needed to get on home. He did later change his mind.
In all honesty, this trip was a blast, one of the best ever. We really appreciated the invite and the hospitality shown to us. Thanks to Eddie and Sandra and Amber and LP and Lee and Holly and Rick and Jennie and all the kids. We can't wait til next year!
Perfectly Fitting
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
I think it is perfectly fitting that dw's new nickname is Judge. Her name is Dana which of course is derived from the name Daniel. It is of Hebrew origin and it's meaning is "God is my judge".
I give my dear heart plenty of flack for an exaggerated legalistic, judgemental worldview. The exaggeration is due on my part; she is infact a sweet and extremely compassionate individual,I digress.
Judge only shows her judge side to me and the family and it has made for lively banter between us. She is very much a stellar conservative. I am a mixture of conservative and libertarian perspectives.
I informed her just last night that I was considering voting for Obama. She hit me square in the mouth. I was in fact joking. You have to love her.
She is as american as apple pie but I am corrupting her, to be sure.
Judge laughs at all of my jokes. Jack is exactly like his daddy, so it seems that all she gets nowadays is funny business.
Judge tells me how to drive and always alerts me as to my speed whilst traveling down the highway. I don't have to worry about whether or not the vehicles in front of me are slowing down, Judge tells me. Sometimes I thinik that I could drive the car with my eyes closed as long as she's in the the passenger seat.
We make a great team.
Judge loves to play games and thinks that the Waltons was the best tv show ever made. I won't disagree.
She is opinionated. She is smart. She is a teacher by trade and a wonderful mother. She is funny. She is beautiful. She is confidence and self doubt all rolled into one. She is mine and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Hey Judge, I love you.
rw
p.s. its Roscoe P. Coletrane, NOT Roscoe Peko Train.
I think it is perfectly fitting that dw's new nickname is Judge. Her name is Dana which of course is derived from the name Daniel. It is of Hebrew origin and it's meaning is "God is my judge".
I give my dear heart plenty of flack for an exaggerated legalistic, judgemental worldview. The exaggeration is due on my part; she is infact a sweet and extremely compassionate individual,I digress.
Judge only shows her judge side to me and the family and it has made for lively banter between us. She is very much a stellar conservative. I am a mixture of conservative and libertarian perspectives.
I informed her just last night that I was considering voting for Obama. She hit me square in the mouth. I was in fact joking. You have to love her.
She is as american as apple pie but I am corrupting her, to be sure.
Judge laughs at all of my jokes. Jack is exactly like his daddy, so it seems that all she gets nowadays is funny business.
Judge tells me how to drive and always alerts me as to my speed whilst traveling down the highway. I don't have to worry about whether or not the vehicles in front of me are slowing down, Judge tells me. Sometimes I thinik that I could drive the car with my eyes closed as long as she's in the the passenger seat.
We make a great team.
Judge loves to play games and thinks that the Waltons was the best tv show ever made. I won't disagree.
She is opinionated. She is smart. She is a teacher by trade and a wonderful mother. She is funny. She is beautiful. She is confidence and self doubt all rolled into one. She is mine and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Hey Judge, I love you.
rw
p.s. its Roscoe P. Coletrane, NOT Roscoe Peko Train.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Where do you want to eat?
We eat out considerably more than I would prefer. It's just so much easier than cooking and cleaning the kitchen, besides it lends itself to socializing. I guess the biggest problem associated with this habitual practice is that you flat wear out every spot and nothing sounds good to eat.
On a balmy Sunday afternoon rw and dw headed to town to meet her sister and husband, "Ross".
The phone rings: "hello"
Sum: "hey its Sum, where do you want to meet for lunch?"
dw: "i dont care, where do you want to go?"
Sum: "It doesnt matter to us, y'all decide."
dw: "ok, how about mexican?"
Sum: "we just had that."
dw: "well, what about that little soup and sandwhich spot?"
Sum: "or we could do seafood."
dw: "ok"
Sum: "it doesnt matter to us, but what about Red Lobster?"
dw: "ok"
Sum: "where would you guys rather go?"
dw: "well, we said mexican, but you apparently would rather go to Red Lobster, so lets do that."
Sum: "are you sure?"
Ross (in the background): "which one has better coke?"
At this point dear reader I must admit that I lost it, whatever "it" is. Which one has better coke? I havent heard anything that funny in the context of such a situation in a long time.
Ross (still in the back ground): "ok, I am about to pass the House of Chen, somebody needs to let me know if thats where we are going or not!!!"
What a kidder he is, the girls hate chinese, especially crappy chinese.
Where do you want to eat? That coupled with the famous "what do you want to eat" seem to be the most complexing question of our time in a world filled with so many choices.
Since I've been married, the "what do you want to eat" question has probably been asked more than other questions. I guess its our final frontier.
What do you want? I dont know.
Where do you want to go? I dont know, what do you want.
The more perplexing detail is that no matter where one suggests, its almost always immediately dismissed, especially if its one of the primary suggestions.
A woman wll look at the menu fifty times and still get the exact same thing. Its quite funny actually and I guess there are worse problems to have.
My time is up and I thank you for yours.
Peace out Monkey Sticks!
rw
On a balmy Sunday afternoon rw and dw headed to town to meet her sister and husband, "Ross".
The phone rings: "hello"
Sum: "hey its Sum, where do you want to meet for lunch?"
dw: "i dont care, where do you want to go?"
Sum: "It doesnt matter to us, y'all decide."
dw: "ok, how about mexican?"
Sum: "we just had that."
dw: "well, what about that little soup and sandwhich spot?"
Sum: "or we could do seafood."
dw: "ok"
Sum: "it doesnt matter to us, but what about Red Lobster?"
dw: "ok"
Sum: "where would you guys rather go?"
dw: "well, we said mexican, but you apparently would rather go to Red Lobster, so lets do that."
Sum: "are you sure?"
Ross (in the background): "which one has better coke?"
At this point dear reader I must admit that I lost it, whatever "it" is. Which one has better coke? I havent heard anything that funny in the context of such a situation in a long time.
Ross (still in the back ground): "ok, I am about to pass the House of Chen, somebody needs to let me know if thats where we are going or not!!!"
What a kidder he is, the girls hate chinese, especially crappy chinese.
Where do you want to eat? That coupled with the famous "what do you want to eat" seem to be the most complexing question of our time in a world filled with so many choices.
Since I've been married, the "what do you want to eat" question has probably been asked more than other questions. I guess its our final frontier.
What do you want? I dont know.
Where do you want to go? I dont know, what do you want.
The more perplexing detail is that no matter where one suggests, its almost always immediately dismissed, especially if its one of the primary suggestions.
A woman wll look at the menu fifty times and still get the exact same thing. Its quite funny actually and I guess there are worse problems to have.
My time is up and I thank you for yours.
Peace out Monkey Sticks!
rw
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Honk and Wave
Thursday, November 08, 2007
I am not ready for any burnt down bridges just yet.
I don't want anything except that if we drove side by side going down the highway that we could honk and wave.
My grandparents live in a small town where everyone waves when they drive their vehicle past another and it doesn't matter if they know each other or not.
I try this from time to time and compare with it with statistical data recorded from a previous trip to their small town.
DW thinks its funny. I give a honk and wave. Most of the time I simply throw up the pointer finger while still gripping the steering wheel. I always try to do this in such a timely fashion that the other driver, be it a stranger or friend has time to acknowledge said friendly gesture.
If I get a wave or a finger lift of sorts then I count it. I also count head nods and hat tipping. You don't see as much hat tipping these days. I have been trying to no avail to bring it back, you know, kind of what Timberlake did with sexy, only more successful.
When I travel up north of the Mason Dixon line, which is quite often, I do this routine as well. Or at least I did for a while. From Rhode Island to Pennsylvania with New York in between, I get zero responses other than the occassional serial killer type who is looking for prey and quickly turns their car around to follow while I have to dodge and weave to lose them.
I don't count so much up there anymore. It also doesn't pay to say sir or ma'am or hold the door for the next person through or even smile for what its worth.
If you say sir, then someone expects you to carry their bags. If you say ma'am then you must be implying the lady is old and that is particularly frowned upon these days in those neck of the woods. If you hold the door open you need not expect the same in return.
You will however find that people are allowed to wedge their cars in traffic by nosing the front end past your vehicle changing lanes. Down South, we have a more fighting attitude about the car etiquette than they do up North. They can even honk and no one cares. If you honk at someone in Alabama you might need to be ready for an altercation of sorts. Up there, a honk is way of saying "hey buddy, you can go or wake up" but its not usually very mean spirited.
But as for me? I want to be able to honk and wave. I don't want to burn down bridges with anyone. Do I agree with everyone I meet and know or every place I go? No, but I am still going to tip my hat in your general direction.
Life is too short to carry any anger, besides the only person pent up anger hurts, is the the person carrying it around.
Be of good cheer and listen to the song on my profile by Limbeck, its called "Honk and Wave".
RW
I am not ready for any burnt down bridges just yet.
I don't want anything except that if we drove side by side going down the highway that we could honk and wave.
My grandparents live in a small town where everyone waves when they drive their vehicle past another and it doesn't matter if they know each other or not.
I try this from time to time and compare with it with statistical data recorded from a previous trip to their small town.
DW thinks its funny. I give a honk and wave. Most of the time I simply throw up the pointer finger while still gripping the steering wheel. I always try to do this in such a timely fashion that the other driver, be it a stranger or friend has time to acknowledge said friendly gesture.
If I get a wave or a finger lift of sorts then I count it. I also count head nods and hat tipping. You don't see as much hat tipping these days. I have been trying to no avail to bring it back, you know, kind of what Timberlake did with sexy, only more successful.
When I travel up north of the Mason Dixon line, which is quite often, I do this routine as well. Or at least I did for a while. From Rhode Island to Pennsylvania with New York in between, I get zero responses other than the occassional serial killer type who is looking for prey and quickly turns their car around to follow while I have to dodge and weave to lose them.
I don't count so much up there anymore. It also doesn't pay to say sir or ma'am or hold the door for the next person through or even smile for what its worth.
If you say sir, then someone expects you to carry their bags. If you say ma'am then you must be implying the lady is old and that is particularly frowned upon these days in those neck of the woods. If you hold the door open you need not expect the same in return.
You will however find that people are allowed to wedge their cars in traffic by nosing the front end past your vehicle changing lanes. Down South, we have a more fighting attitude about the car etiquette than they do up North. They can even honk and no one cares. If you honk at someone in Alabama you might need to be ready for an altercation of sorts. Up there, a honk is way of saying "hey buddy, you can go or wake up" but its not usually very mean spirited.
But as for me? I want to be able to honk and wave. I don't want to burn down bridges with anyone. Do I agree with everyone I meet and know or every place I go? No, but I am still going to tip my hat in your general direction.
Life is too short to carry any anger, besides the only person pent up anger hurts, is the the person carrying it around.
Be of good cheer and listen to the song on my profile by Limbeck, its called "Honk and Wave".
RW
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
RESPECT
I want this to come off in the right light. I have questioned writing this blog and may add another as it comes to me. I dont want to this to seem distasteful whatesoever, but I keep thinking about my friend. I can only see the good memories.
My dear friend has passed away. I hadn't been as close to my friend in the last few years. You know how life gets in the way. People have things going on and my friend had been battling with leukemia.
I talked with him a couple of months ago. Things had since turned tougher for him.
He is the first person from my what used to be close knit friend group to pass away. He was only thirty one years young. As a matter of a fact he had only just recently had a birthday. It is very hard to think about, but I keep making myself do it. Life is so short. It is so precious. Chris was a precious person.
I remember meeting Chris in the ninth grade in Mrs Bain's science class. We had met in middle school but didnt really know each other.
I wasn't doing good in the class. I didnt care about it at all. We both joined the science club to earn some extra points. The group was about to take a trip to the space and rocket center in Huntsville and we had a blast.
I can specifically remember us talking about the particular jeans we were both wearing. No one else had a pair. Its funny the things you remember.
Chris picked me and a few friends up that weekend to go out and find a party or at least time to kill. Tyrone and Dwayne were there. A more senior classmate bought us some cheap wine. Chris didnt drink any at all. Tyrone threw up later that evening from too much to drink.
I remember that we drank too much as young people, but Chris never drank. He was always the funniest guy around though.
One summer while still in high school Matt, Ian, Chris and I spent a week in Gulf Shores. I remember that as the best summer of my young life.
Someone always lost something at the beach. The something was usually keys. Chris and I had a knack for finding things like this, even at night. We went to the beach several times through the years and we always found ourselves finding someone's keys.
That first summer in Gulf Shores Chris met a girl from Kentucky who he became enraptured with. I can remember him talking about flying a helicopter to see her like it was yesterday.
Chris and a few of us panned for gold another summer. We didnt find anything with any value, but I will always have the memories of driving around the area between Hollis Cross Roads, Heflin and Randolph County looking for gold. We drove up every dirt road we saw looking for a stream to pan. We just knew there was gold in them there hills.
We always had parties at Chris' house. Dwayne fell through the ceiling one night. We had been in Chris' attic. I dont remember why but Chris led a bunch of us into the attic. We were in exploration mode I guess.
We were always in exploration mode with Chris. I recall him leading us through the Weaver Caves. We went as deep into those caves as anyone had gone. We found a room in those caves with clay and a little water to mix with clay. We rolled the clay and formed out our names and stuck them to the walls. I wonder if those names are still there. I am betting that they are and it makes me want to crawl back through those narrow spaces to trace my steps and see them one last time.
Forgive me, I can't help but tear up a bit.
Once while still in high school we thought there was some kind of conspiracy going on with the administration. Chris told us of rumors of an underground at the annex building. The army had set up camp in the in campus parking lot one night and we set out to scope out what was going on. We eventually persuaded the teachers to take us to this supposed underground area. Nothing really turned up.
Nothing ever really turned up, but it was always an adventure.
I worked at a book store with Chris for a couple of years. We moved to Auburn at the same time. Chris was always around and he was good for a belly ache of laughter. He had such a gift of mischievious, sarcastic, good natured humor.
Oddly enough, Chris and I moved back from Auburn about the same time. His heart had been broken and at one of his parties I remember finding him hiding in an old freezer. I thought he was just trying to be funny. He didnt have to try to hard.
Later on, he lived on one side of the old apartment at Christine Avenue in Anniston. We all lived in one side of that duplex at one time or another.
The last time I really remember seeing Chris was at Ian's bachelor party. Tyrone and I showed up and Chris was the only one there already waiting. He had a box of a dozen glazed Krispy Kreme donuts and told us nonchalently that he had leukemia but that he was better now.
He was his old funny self. He said some things to me that night that were as funny as anything I remember anyone ever saying to me. He didnt try to be funny, he just was. There was no effort whatsoever.
Chris always laughed uncontrollably at my Jerry the Llama stories and ee cumming's goat footed ballon man. I WILL always remember him. He will forever hold a special place in my heart and I think of him constantly right now.
Forgive me as I tear up right now. I miss my friend.
Chris, I will always love you as a brother.
Robby
My dear friend has passed away. I hadn't been as close to my friend in the last few years. You know how life gets in the way. People have things going on and my friend had been battling with leukemia.
I talked with him a couple of months ago. Things had since turned tougher for him.
He is the first person from my what used to be close knit friend group to pass away. He was only thirty one years young. As a matter of a fact he had only just recently had a birthday. It is very hard to think about, but I keep making myself do it. Life is so short. It is so precious. Chris was a precious person.
I remember meeting Chris in the ninth grade in Mrs Bain's science class. We had met in middle school but didnt really know each other.
I wasn't doing good in the class. I didnt care about it at all. We both joined the science club to earn some extra points. The group was about to take a trip to the space and rocket center in Huntsville and we had a blast.
I can specifically remember us talking about the particular jeans we were both wearing. No one else had a pair. Its funny the things you remember.
Chris picked me and a few friends up that weekend to go out and find a party or at least time to kill. Tyrone and Dwayne were there. A more senior classmate bought us some cheap wine. Chris didnt drink any at all. Tyrone threw up later that evening from too much to drink.
I remember that we drank too much as young people, but Chris never drank. He was always the funniest guy around though.
One summer while still in high school Matt, Ian, Chris and I spent a week in Gulf Shores. I remember that as the best summer of my young life.
Someone always lost something at the beach. The something was usually keys. Chris and I had a knack for finding things like this, even at night. We went to the beach several times through the years and we always found ourselves finding someone's keys.
That first summer in Gulf Shores Chris met a girl from Kentucky who he became enraptured with. I can remember him talking about flying a helicopter to see her like it was yesterday.
Chris and a few of us panned for gold another summer. We didnt find anything with any value, but I will always have the memories of driving around the area between Hollis Cross Roads, Heflin and Randolph County looking for gold. We drove up every dirt road we saw looking for a stream to pan. We just knew there was gold in them there hills.
We always had parties at Chris' house. Dwayne fell through the ceiling one night. We had been in Chris' attic. I dont remember why but Chris led a bunch of us into the attic. We were in exploration mode I guess.
We were always in exploration mode with Chris. I recall him leading us through the Weaver Caves. We went as deep into those caves as anyone had gone. We found a room in those caves with clay and a little water to mix with clay. We rolled the clay and formed out our names and stuck them to the walls. I wonder if those names are still there. I am betting that they are and it makes me want to crawl back through those narrow spaces to trace my steps and see them one last time.
Forgive me, I can't help but tear up a bit.
Once while still in high school we thought there was some kind of conspiracy going on with the administration. Chris told us of rumors of an underground at the annex building. The army had set up camp in the in campus parking lot one night and we set out to scope out what was going on. We eventually persuaded the teachers to take us to this supposed underground area. Nothing really turned up.
Nothing ever really turned up, but it was always an adventure.
I worked at a book store with Chris for a couple of years. We moved to Auburn at the same time. Chris was always around and he was good for a belly ache of laughter. He had such a gift of mischievious, sarcastic, good natured humor.
Oddly enough, Chris and I moved back from Auburn about the same time. His heart had been broken and at one of his parties I remember finding him hiding in an old freezer. I thought he was just trying to be funny. He didnt have to try to hard.
Later on, he lived on one side of the old apartment at Christine Avenue in Anniston. We all lived in one side of that duplex at one time or another.
The last time I really remember seeing Chris was at Ian's bachelor party. Tyrone and I showed up and Chris was the only one there already waiting. He had a box of a dozen glazed Krispy Kreme donuts and told us nonchalently that he had leukemia but that he was better now.
He was his old funny self. He said some things to me that night that were as funny as anything I remember anyone ever saying to me. He didnt try to be funny, he just was. There was no effort whatsoever.
Chris always laughed uncontrollably at my Jerry the Llama stories and ee cumming's goat footed ballon man. I WILL always remember him. He will forever hold a special place in my heart and I think of him constantly right now.
Forgive me as I tear up right now. I miss my friend.
Chris, I will always love you as a brother.
Robby
Blow Out That Cherry Bomb For Me
I flew up to NYC on tuesday. I have plenty of pictures detailing the trip, but I forgot the cord for the camera to download said pictures.
I really should have waited until I uploaded the pictures to write this blog, but whatever, right?
It is Wednesday night. We drove into Manhattan for dinner at Smith & Wollensky's. Wow, good spot, its on the corner of third avenue and forty ninth street. You need to check it out if you have a chance.
There were about nine of us including the president of my company. We took two vehicles as we had a large group and a fifteen minute drive. I couldn't believe how much traffic there was on 9A tonight. Six of us were Auburn guys. Three were recent grads from Southern Miss. One of the lads has a girlfriend from the Jersey shore, kinda.
They dubbed her "Diablo". This is in part to the wicked tattoo she has on her person. It says diablo which means the devil or so I am told. They painted the picture to represent her as wild and crazy. This lad is a mississippi boy. They are infact not a fit.
The other guys ragged him all night about Diablo. He rambled on about her being from Belize. I kidded him about the mafiso wannabes that she might have had as past boyfriends when he informed us that he asked her if she had dated any mexicans.
I found this to be humorous. How did he come about this inquiry? He simply put it out there, point blank. I found out that he wasnt so much discriminating against the mexican peoples as much as he was concerned about getting cut over some jersey tramp. Forgive me, this was the discussion and I guess you had to be there.
We had an excellent dinner starting off with lobster as an appetizer and a nice steak.
We had another group out on the town. One of the chiefs was a 67 year old guy that works for us. They had a limo and he was standing out of the roof top window and happened to drive past us as we left the restaurant. He was headed to an around the way joint in Soho. He was singing a Limbeck song
Theres really nothing else to do except laugh.
"i am not saying that i am ready for a burned down bridge.
I am not saying that I want anything from you except that if we drove side by side in the beehive state that we could smile and honk and wave."
This man, i shall refer to as Ron had been skydiving earlier in the week. He is also the same gentleman I told you about before that used to be close friends with Burt Reynolds...no kidding.
The limo stopped at the light at the next corner. A couple of us ran over to meet him.
Ron yelled at two passerbys, "hey foxy lady, wanna ride? are there any problems you see? whats that got to do with me? you can do what you wanna do, its nothing to me. Lets cut out the middle man."
He has no fear of the underdog, thats why he will not survive. New York City might be too much for that old man from Alabama.
I told him so much and he responded that "it cant all be wedding cake."
I summized that "Diablo" would have agreed.
It has been without question, an interesting evening.
I really should have waited until I uploaded the pictures to write this blog, but whatever, right?
It is Wednesday night. We drove into Manhattan for dinner at Smith & Wollensky's. Wow, good spot, its on the corner of third avenue and forty ninth street. You need to check it out if you have a chance.
There were about nine of us including the president of my company. We took two vehicles as we had a large group and a fifteen minute drive. I couldn't believe how much traffic there was on 9A tonight. Six of us were Auburn guys. Three were recent grads from Southern Miss. One of the lads has a girlfriend from the Jersey shore, kinda.
They dubbed her "Diablo". This is in part to the wicked tattoo she has on her person. It says diablo which means the devil or so I am told. They painted the picture to represent her as wild and crazy. This lad is a mississippi boy. They are infact not a fit.
The other guys ragged him all night about Diablo. He rambled on about her being from Belize. I kidded him about the mafiso wannabes that she might have had as past boyfriends when he informed us that he asked her if she had dated any mexicans.
I found this to be humorous. How did he come about this inquiry? He simply put it out there, point blank. I found out that he wasnt so much discriminating against the mexican peoples as much as he was concerned about getting cut over some jersey tramp. Forgive me, this was the discussion and I guess you had to be there.
We had an excellent dinner starting off with lobster as an appetizer and a nice steak.
We had another group out on the town. One of the chiefs was a 67 year old guy that works for us. They had a limo and he was standing out of the roof top window and happened to drive past us as we left the restaurant. He was headed to an around the way joint in Soho. He was singing a Limbeck song
Theres really nothing else to do except laugh.
"i am not saying that i am ready for a burned down bridge.
I am not saying that I want anything from you except that if we drove side by side in the beehive state that we could smile and honk and wave."
This man, i shall refer to as Ron had been skydiving earlier in the week. He is also the same gentleman I told you about before that used to be close friends with Burt Reynolds...no kidding.
The limo stopped at the light at the next corner. A couple of us ran over to meet him.
Ron yelled at two passerbys, "hey foxy lady, wanna ride? are there any problems you see? whats that got to do with me? you can do what you wanna do, its nothing to me. Lets cut out the middle man."
He has no fear of the underdog, thats why he will not survive. New York City might be too much for that old man from Alabama.
I told him so much and he responded that "it cant all be wedding cake."
I summized that "Diablo" would have agreed.
It has been without question, an interesting evening.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Rambling Monday
october 22, 2007
I feel like I am closer to 100 percent than I have been since last week threw me down and jumped on my sternum.
I flew in last Thursday night around 12 in the morning and I succumbed to jet lag. I felt as bad and slept as much the next two days as I had in recovery phase for the last few months, easy.
Standing in line to board the plane, I bumped the guy in front of me with my bag. My bag bumped his bag actually. He cut his eyes and asked me if I was in such a hurry, did i want to go ahead of him. I told the gentleman that he needed to relax, my accidental bumping was not indicative of an unpleasant, hurried attitude on my part.
That is the attitude everyone gets and gives in the airports these days. If you are the occasional traveler who is taking a holiday flight, you might not notice this wretched demeanor lurking uncontrolled, but I see it every where.
The worst part of flying, for the somewhat hurried flier, is getting off the plane. You have to plot and scheme before hand. If you wind up storing your bag in an overhead behind where your seat is located, then you will be forced to wait for the entire flight to deplane before retrieving your belongings.
Location, location, location, it matters when dealing real estate, be it on the beach, a nice neighborhood or an overhead compartment on a canidAir regional jet.
The next worse thing for me is waiting to claim your baggage at the self explanatory baggage claim area. This may take upwards twenty to forty minutes. Oh the agony of futher prolonging your trip, just let me get home.
At New York's Laguardia Airport, there are several flights that require one to be bussed out to the plane's parking location. The direct flight to Birmingham is one such flight, where persons must cram into a little bus before being crammed on to a little plane. No big deal.
So everyone now off the little bus and onto the plane, myself included found themselves buckled into their seat, patiently awaiting departure. I told the gentlemen in the seat next to me that I would move to the outside seat since it looked like we were all on board. Men dont want to have to sit side by side on a plane if we dont have to, so I moved over. No big deal.
I looked up from my magazine a minute or two later and new persons were boarding the plane as they had just arrived via their own little bus.
An older gentlemen in his (best guess) sixties walked up to my seat and asked "10A"? "Yes", I responed, "I actually have 10B".
"No problem, stay where you are, its cool, man"
"Nice", I thought to myself. Not only do I not have to sit knee to knee with another man, this guy's great attitude lifted my wary traveling spirit. I have a new faith in the goodness of people.
This guy was dressed like an executive with a hippy old man flavor and he said words like "cool" and "dude". He also carried some kind of mandolin looking instrument. I imagined he had played some club or symphany in Manhattan.
You just dont hear old timers saying "cool" a lot. My granddad doesnt say it. My dad doesnt say it. Will I eventually feel the need to quit saying "dude" and "cool" or face being viewed by whipper snappers as a "hippy"?
I discussed the timely or timeless nature of such expressions with a couple of buddies over the weekend. It was funny because the day before this had been a highlighted discussion with another group.
I dont really know where this pondering is going, but I do know, that if you make friends with people who say say "cool", every thing will work out...maybe. I dont know...this all now sounds so silly.
goodwill to you,
r
I feel like I am closer to 100 percent than I have been since last week threw me down and jumped on my sternum.
I flew in last Thursday night around 12 in the morning and I succumbed to jet lag. I felt as bad and slept as much the next two days as I had in recovery phase for the last few months, easy.
Standing in line to board the plane, I bumped the guy in front of me with my bag. My bag bumped his bag actually. He cut his eyes and asked me if I was in such a hurry, did i want to go ahead of him. I told the gentleman that he needed to relax, my accidental bumping was not indicative of an unpleasant, hurried attitude on my part.
That is the attitude everyone gets and gives in the airports these days. If you are the occasional traveler who is taking a holiday flight, you might not notice this wretched demeanor lurking uncontrolled, but I see it every where.
The worst part of flying, for the somewhat hurried flier, is getting off the plane. You have to plot and scheme before hand. If you wind up storing your bag in an overhead behind where your seat is located, then you will be forced to wait for the entire flight to deplane before retrieving your belongings.
Location, location, location, it matters when dealing real estate, be it on the beach, a nice neighborhood or an overhead compartment on a canidAir regional jet.
The next worse thing for me is waiting to claim your baggage at the self explanatory baggage claim area. This may take upwards twenty to forty minutes. Oh the agony of futher prolonging your trip, just let me get home.
At New York's Laguardia Airport, there are several flights that require one to be bussed out to the plane's parking location. The direct flight to Birmingham is one such flight, where persons must cram into a little bus before being crammed on to a little plane. No big deal.
So everyone now off the little bus and onto the plane, myself included found themselves buckled into their seat, patiently awaiting departure. I told the gentlemen in the seat next to me that I would move to the outside seat since it looked like we were all on board. Men dont want to have to sit side by side on a plane if we dont have to, so I moved over. No big deal.
I looked up from my magazine a minute or two later and new persons were boarding the plane as they had just arrived via their own little bus.
An older gentlemen in his (best guess) sixties walked up to my seat and asked "10A"? "Yes", I responed, "I actually have 10B".
"No problem, stay where you are, its cool, man"
"Nice", I thought to myself. Not only do I not have to sit knee to knee with another man, this guy's great attitude lifted my wary traveling spirit. I have a new faith in the goodness of people.
This guy was dressed like an executive with a hippy old man flavor and he said words like "cool" and "dude". He also carried some kind of mandolin looking instrument. I imagined he had played some club or symphany in Manhattan.
You just dont hear old timers saying "cool" a lot. My granddad doesnt say it. My dad doesnt say it. Will I eventually feel the need to quit saying "dude" and "cool" or face being viewed by whipper snappers as a "hippy"?
I discussed the timely or timeless nature of such expressions with a couple of buddies over the weekend. It was funny because the day before this had been a highlighted discussion with another group.
I dont really know where this pondering is going, but I do know, that if you make friends with people who say say "cool", every thing will work out...maybe. I dont know...this all now sounds so silly.
goodwill to you,
r
A Late Night Conversation
Thursday, June 21, 2007
[Thrust into the middle of a conversation as two gentlemen discuss their world]….
Friend 1:"I'm not sure what you mean?"
Friend2: "We'll my point may not be entirely clear. Let me rephrase it if you will. Did you ever think that everything we are doing is so much more complicated than it should be?"
Friend 1: "I suppose, but are you talking in generalities or is there a specific claim that you are attempting to make?"
Friend 2: "In generalities, but I can definitely get more specific if you so desire".
Friend 1: "That I do friend that I do".
Friend 2: "Let me preface the crux of this conversation with a blanket statement first. I am laying the blame at your feet, at my feet and at everyone's feet. This desire to be entertained has become what most people live for; there is nothing that really motivates most people beyond self serving ideals and the want to be entertained almost constantly".
Friend 1:"Yeah, I know what you mean. People are lazy".
Friend 2: "Sure, yeah, people are lazy but is that the real reason or just another symptom? I mean why are people lazy and I am talking beyond work, their occupations. And let the record show that I am speaking to more than this laziness. "
Friend 1:"Ok".
Friend 2: "What motivates you?" Why do we allow the things that go on in our world? Why do people not become more involved? Why do people just complain about all that's wrong? Why do most people not even realized what it is that is wrong? Our society is becoming very dumbed down if you will. People come home from a day at work and turn on their television sets and become zombies."
Friend 1: "What motivates me? To do what?"
Friend 2: "Motivates, inspires, the driving force behind what you do, what you know, who you are. I believe this conversation is about to become very cumbersome and all over the board. Shall we continue?"
Friend 1: "By all means, proceed".
Friend 2: "You know this is a rare event, not many people even care to broach this type of subject without a nice cup of coffee. Whadda ya say?"
Friend 1: "I've got a pot of tar brewing as we speak. It's not decaf, is that ok?"
Friend 2: "I don't drink decaf anyway. I guess I'm just kinda fed up with a lot of stuff. The government and I am not talking about the current administration. Beyond that, I'm talking about the pork barrel spending and the career politicians who have no desire to actually represent their true constituency, the people. It's the church, its Hollywood, it's family; it's about getting real and telling the truth and not this slant on late night comedy central that is being accepted as true".
Friend 1: "I guess it's just easier to go to work, then come home and turn on the television. People feel like nothing they do can change anything anyway. You know, it is a fact that each generation becomes more liberal than the one before them and that doesn't necessarily mean that it's always a bad thing. For example, people always used to go about town to go to the movies or whatever, dressed in a suit. Remember Barney Fife, he wouldn't take ol'Thelma Lou to go skip rocks down by the lake unless he was wearing his trademark salt and pepper suit and his fedora".
Friend 2: "I totally understand what you mean. Most people don't even wear a suit to church, if they even go to church and I don't think it's at all a bad thing to be a little more casual with your Sunday wear. Not everyone can afford a nice suit and who wants to wear a suit and make others feel like they are in some way inferior. People have enough to contend with on a daily basis."
Friend 1: "Not everything liberal, progressive means better though".
Friend 2: "Of course not, besides the word liberal has so many different connotations anyway".
Friend 1: "What's your beef with the government?"
Friend 2: "It's just so huge. There is so much waste. I guess I am a little more libertarian in my stance about government, not all the social issues mind you, but especially in the way of smaller government starting with state's rights. Do you realize that there is something like 365 representatives in the House and 100 in the Senate and that all over them have huge salaries with a staff of at least 15 people that make a good living too? Look at how much we pay judges, and most of these career politicians will get a check for the rest of their lives. I just don't get it."
Friend 1: "I see what you mean, smaller government, less red tape and definitely less money wasted".
Friend 2: "They have legislated so many laws, rules and regulations that are great on some levels but just create more of that red tape you mention on most levels. The more rules you make, the more rule breakers you create."
Friend 1: "Of course, you do need rules and laws such as laws against driving under the influence, laws against breaking and entering…"
Friend 2: "Yeah, those are the gimmies, but a bigger question, who is making the laws and why are some people and companies exempt. It's all about how much money you have to support a lobby group or how much money you have to defend yourself in a court case because we all know liberal judges are legislating from the bench. It comes down to money and the separation between the haves and have-nots is getting wider every day. It's not just the republicans, its both sides. Take a guy like John Edwards for example, he has made his millions by doing his part to ruin health care and insurance in this country by suing every Tom, Dick and Harry".
Friend 1: "It's very much like it was when the Pharisees and Sadducees ruled Israel during Jesus' time. The letter of the law kills and they were making laws and rules that benefited them".
Friend 1: "What can people do about it though?"
Friend 2: "Maybe nothing, but maybe if everyone would unglue themselves from the boob tube long enough to realize what is actually going on, and demand that these politicians do their jobs and elect people that will actually represent them and our ideals, the very things this country was founded upon, but its not just here, its in every country. Take Venezuela, Chavez comes in under this cloak of Socialism, a system that if it could work, which I don't believe it could is a system in which property and the distribution of wealth are subject to control by the community, the people. Chavez has seized the oil fields, heck, its not even a state controlled issue, it's a Chavez controlled thing now".
Friend 1: "People like to have their ears tickled. Tell me what I want to hear and then 'boom' you've got representatives or dictators dictating".
Friend 2: "Haha, and Chavez says Bush represents an evil empire. Bush has his problems no doubt, but he isn't doing anything close to what Chavez is doing. I guess its like it says in the Bible somewhere, people will begin to believe the lie, whatever it is and then the lie becomes the truth and the truth becomes a lie. Very interesting…"
Friend 1: "Really, its human nature, its like Snoop D. O. double G. said in the mid-nineties, "you gotta get yours before I gots to gets mines"."
Friend 2: "True, true".
Friend 1: "Who knew old Snoop was a philosopher?"
Friend 2: "I didn't".
Friend 1: "Well now you do Chico".
Friend 2: "I didn't mean to go on such a rant about the government of all things".
Friend 1: "It's ok, I forgive you pal".
Friend 2: "Do you think people like to think?"
Friend 1: "Nah, not really, no more than they like to wait on fast food I guess".
Friend 2: "Ha ha, ain't that the truth".
Friend 2: "I mean really, people can't by and large, tell you what they believe in or why they believe in it. It's all about emotions and feelings".
Friend 1: "Ha, you are the one sounding whiny tonight".
Friend 2: "Hush up little sailor before I tell everyone how much you like to watch Grey's Anatomy".
Friend 1: "Those sound like fighting words".
Friend 2: "Maybe, but seriously, if people would just figure out what it is they believe and in and be able to substantiate it, reiterate, discuss…"
Friend 1: "You are asking too much of people".
Friend 2: "I think not, my only request is that they pony up".
Friend 1: "Well, can you define what it is that you believe in with such conviction?"
[Thrust into the middle of a conversation as two gentlemen discuss their world]….
Friend 1:"I'm not sure what you mean?"
Friend2: "We'll my point may not be entirely clear. Let me rephrase it if you will. Did you ever think that everything we are doing is so much more complicated than it should be?"
Friend 1: "I suppose, but are you talking in generalities or is there a specific claim that you are attempting to make?"
Friend 2: "In generalities, but I can definitely get more specific if you so desire".
Friend 1: "That I do friend that I do".
Friend 2: "Let me preface the crux of this conversation with a blanket statement first. I am laying the blame at your feet, at my feet and at everyone's feet. This desire to be entertained has become what most people live for; there is nothing that really motivates most people beyond self serving ideals and the want to be entertained almost constantly".
Friend 1:"Yeah, I know what you mean. People are lazy".
Friend 2: "Sure, yeah, people are lazy but is that the real reason or just another symptom? I mean why are people lazy and I am talking beyond work, their occupations. And let the record show that I am speaking to more than this laziness. "
Friend 1:"Ok".
Friend 2: "What motivates you?" Why do we allow the things that go on in our world? Why do people not become more involved? Why do people just complain about all that's wrong? Why do most people not even realized what it is that is wrong? Our society is becoming very dumbed down if you will. People come home from a day at work and turn on their television sets and become zombies."
Friend 1: "What motivates me? To do what?"
Friend 2: "Motivates, inspires, the driving force behind what you do, what you know, who you are. I believe this conversation is about to become very cumbersome and all over the board. Shall we continue?"
Friend 1: "By all means, proceed".
Friend 2: "You know this is a rare event, not many people even care to broach this type of subject without a nice cup of coffee. Whadda ya say?"
Friend 1: "I've got a pot of tar brewing as we speak. It's not decaf, is that ok?"
Friend 2: "I don't drink decaf anyway. I guess I'm just kinda fed up with a lot of stuff. The government and I am not talking about the current administration. Beyond that, I'm talking about the pork barrel spending and the career politicians who have no desire to actually represent their true constituency, the people. It's the church, its Hollywood, it's family; it's about getting real and telling the truth and not this slant on late night comedy central that is being accepted as true".
Friend 1: "I guess it's just easier to go to work, then come home and turn on the television. People feel like nothing they do can change anything anyway. You know, it is a fact that each generation becomes more liberal than the one before them and that doesn't necessarily mean that it's always a bad thing. For example, people always used to go about town to go to the movies or whatever, dressed in a suit. Remember Barney Fife, he wouldn't take ol'Thelma Lou to go skip rocks down by the lake unless he was wearing his trademark salt and pepper suit and his fedora".
Friend 2: "I totally understand what you mean. Most people don't even wear a suit to church, if they even go to church and I don't think it's at all a bad thing to be a little more casual with your Sunday wear. Not everyone can afford a nice suit and who wants to wear a suit and make others feel like they are in some way inferior. People have enough to contend with on a daily basis."
Friend 1: "Not everything liberal, progressive means better though".
Friend 2: "Of course not, besides the word liberal has so many different connotations anyway".
Friend 1: "What's your beef with the government?"
Friend 2: "It's just so huge. There is so much waste. I guess I am a little more libertarian in my stance about government, not all the social issues mind you, but especially in the way of smaller government starting with state's rights. Do you realize that there is something like 365 representatives in the House and 100 in the Senate and that all over them have huge salaries with a staff of at least 15 people that make a good living too? Look at how much we pay judges, and most of these career politicians will get a check for the rest of their lives. I just don't get it."
Friend 1: "I see what you mean, smaller government, less red tape and definitely less money wasted".
Friend 2: "They have legislated so many laws, rules and regulations that are great on some levels but just create more of that red tape you mention on most levels. The more rules you make, the more rule breakers you create."
Friend 1: "Of course, you do need rules and laws such as laws against driving under the influence, laws against breaking and entering…"
Friend 2: "Yeah, those are the gimmies, but a bigger question, who is making the laws and why are some people and companies exempt. It's all about how much money you have to support a lobby group or how much money you have to defend yourself in a court case because we all know liberal judges are legislating from the bench. It comes down to money and the separation between the haves and have-nots is getting wider every day. It's not just the republicans, its both sides. Take a guy like John Edwards for example, he has made his millions by doing his part to ruin health care and insurance in this country by suing every Tom, Dick and Harry".
Friend 1: "It's very much like it was when the Pharisees and Sadducees ruled Israel during Jesus' time. The letter of the law kills and they were making laws and rules that benefited them".
Friend 1: "What can people do about it though?"
Friend 2: "Maybe nothing, but maybe if everyone would unglue themselves from the boob tube long enough to realize what is actually going on, and demand that these politicians do their jobs and elect people that will actually represent them and our ideals, the very things this country was founded upon, but its not just here, its in every country. Take Venezuela, Chavez comes in under this cloak of Socialism, a system that if it could work, which I don't believe it could is a system in which property and the distribution of wealth are subject to control by the community, the people. Chavez has seized the oil fields, heck, its not even a state controlled issue, it's a Chavez controlled thing now".
Friend 1: "People like to have their ears tickled. Tell me what I want to hear and then 'boom' you've got representatives or dictators dictating".
Friend 2: "Haha, and Chavez says Bush represents an evil empire. Bush has his problems no doubt, but he isn't doing anything close to what Chavez is doing. I guess its like it says in the Bible somewhere, people will begin to believe the lie, whatever it is and then the lie becomes the truth and the truth becomes a lie. Very interesting…"
Friend 1: "Really, its human nature, its like Snoop D. O. double G. said in the mid-nineties, "you gotta get yours before I gots to gets mines"."
Friend 2: "True, true".
Friend 1: "Who knew old Snoop was a philosopher?"
Friend 2: "I didn't".
Friend 1: "Well now you do Chico".
Friend 2: "I didn't mean to go on such a rant about the government of all things".
Friend 1: "It's ok, I forgive you pal".
Friend 2: "Do you think people like to think?"
Friend 1: "Nah, not really, no more than they like to wait on fast food I guess".
Friend 2: "Ha ha, ain't that the truth".
Friend 2: "I mean really, people can't by and large, tell you what they believe in or why they believe in it. It's all about emotions and feelings".
Friend 1: "Ha, you are the one sounding whiny tonight".
Friend 2: "Hush up little sailor before I tell everyone how much you like to watch Grey's Anatomy".
Friend 1: "Those sound like fighting words".
Friend 2: "Maybe, but seriously, if people would just figure out what it is they believe and in and be able to substantiate it, reiterate, discuss…"
Friend 1: "You are asking too much of people".
Friend 2: "I think not, my only request is that they pony up".
Friend 1: "Well, can you define what it is that you believe in with such conviction?"
'Cause I gotta have faith...
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Kierkegaard has been called a philosopher, a theologian, the Father of Existentialism, a literary critic, a humorist, a psychologist, and a poet.
One of his popular ideas is the "leap to faith," or the "leap of faith ."
The leap of faith is his conception of how an individual would believe in God. He thought that to have faith is at the same time to have doubt. For example, to truly have faith in God, one would also have to doubt that God exists; the doubt is the rational part of a person's thought, without which the faith would have no real substance.
Doubt is an essential element of faith, like a type of beginning. To believe or have faith that God exists, without ever having doubted God's existence or goodness would not be a faith worth having. For example, it takes no faith to believe that something you can see and touch is real especially when you are looking at it or touching it. In the same way, to believe or have faith in God is to know that you can't really see or touch God, and yet still has faith in God.
Doubt is uncertainty in the context of trust, action, decision or belief. It implies challenging some notion of reality in effect, and may involve hesitating to take a relevant action due to concern that one might be mistaken or at fault. It's a type of skepticism, but it should NOT be confused with atheism. Doubt prods a person to ask questions.
Faith has two general implications which can be implied either exclusively or mutually; to trust or to believe without reason.
To trust means that you believe based on personal hopes or believing in certain ideas despite having much evidence. I think that faith leads you to discover how real or unreal something is and this "faith" has forced me to discover what I have determined to be True Knowledge.
Its foolish to say that someone believes in something without reason. It would be better to question how valid you deem that "reason" to be (i think that its a stupid rule in the english language that you arent supposed to end a sentence wtih a preposition...sometimes it just fits ya know).
There exists a wide spectrum of opinion with respect to the epistemological validity of faith. One philosophical extreme is fideism, which holds that true belief can only arise from faith, because reason and evidence cannot lead to truth. Some foundationalists, such as St. Augustine of Hippo and Alvin Plantinga, hold that all of our beliefs rest ultimately on beliefs accepted by faith. Others, such as C.S. Lewis, hold that Faith is merely the virtue by which we hold to our reasoned ideas, despite moods to the contrary.
Many noted philosophers and theologians have espoused the idea that faith is the basis of all knowledge. One example is St. Augustine of Hippo. Known as one of his key contributions to philosophy, the idea of "faith seeking understanding" was set forth by St. Augustine in his statement "Crede, ut intelligas" ("Believe in order that you may understand"). This statement extends beyond the sphere of religion to encompass the totality of knowledge. In essence, faith must be present in order to know anything. In other words, one must assume, believe, or have faith in the credibility of a person, place, thing, or idea in order to have a basis for knowledge.
I think that this is true because one simply does not have the time or resources to evaluate all of his knowledge empirically and exhaustively. "Faith" is used instead.
It is sometimes argued that even scientific knowledge is dependent on 'faith' - for example, faith that the researcher responsible for an empirical conclusion is competent, and honest. A person could argue that scientific discovery begins with a scientist's faith that an unknown discovery is possible. Scientific discovery requires a passionate commitment to a result that is unknowable at the outset. The scientific method is not an objective method removed from man's passion.
Sometimes, faith means a belief in a relationship with a deity. In this case, "faith" is used in the sense of "fidelity." For many Jews, the Hebrew Bible and Talmud depict a committed but contentious relationship between their God and the Children of Israel. For a lot of people, faith or the lack thereof, is an important part of their identity.
Kierkegaard has been called a philosopher, a theologian, the Father of Existentialism, a literary critic, a humorist, a psychologist, and a poet.
One of his popular ideas is the "leap to faith," or the "leap of faith ."
The leap of faith is his conception of how an individual would believe in God. He thought that to have faith is at the same time to have doubt. For example, to truly have faith in God, one would also have to doubt that God exists; the doubt is the rational part of a person's thought, without which the faith would have no real substance.
Doubt is an essential element of faith, like a type of beginning. To believe or have faith that God exists, without ever having doubted God's existence or goodness would not be a faith worth having. For example, it takes no faith to believe that something you can see and touch is real especially when you are looking at it or touching it. In the same way, to believe or have faith in God is to know that you can't really see or touch God, and yet still has faith in God.
Doubt is uncertainty in the context of trust, action, decision or belief. It implies challenging some notion of reality in effect, and may involve hesitating to take a relevant action due to concern that one might be mistaken or at fault. It's a type of skepticism, but it should NOT be confused with atheism. Doubt prods a person to ask questions.
Faith has two general implications which can be implied either exclusively or mutually; to trust or to believe without reason.
To trust means that you believe based on personal hopes or believing in certain ideas despite having much evidence. I think that faith leads you to discover how real or unreal something is and this "faith" has forced me to discover what I have determined to be True Knowledge.
Its foolish to say that someone believes in something without reason. It would be better to question how valid you deem that "reason" to be (i think that its a stupid rule in the english language that you arent supposed to end a sentence wtih a preposition...sometimes it just fits ya know).
There exists a wide spectrum of opinion with respect to the epistemological validity of faith. One philosophical extreme is fideism, which holds that true belief can only arise from faith, because reason and evidence cannot lead to truth. Some foundationalists, such as St. Augustine of Hippo and Alvin Plantinga, hold that all of our beliefs rest ultimately on beliefs accepted by faith. Others, such as C.S. Lewis, hold that Faith is merely the virtue by which we hold to our reasoned ideas, despite moods to the contrary.
Many noted philosophers and theologians have espoused the idea that faith is the basis of all knowledge. One example is St. Augustine of Hippo. Known as one of his key contributions to philosophy, the idea of "faith seeking understanding" was set forth by St. Augustine in his statement "Crede, ut intelligas" ("Believe in order that you may understand"). This statement extends beyond the sphere of religion to encompass the totality of knowledge. In essence, faith must be present in order to know anything. In other words, one must assume, believe, or have faith in the credibility of a person, place, thing, or idea in order to have a basis for knowledge.
I think that this is true because one simply does not have the time or resources to evaluate all of his knowledge empirically and exhaustively. "Faith" is used instead.
It is sometimes argued that even scientific knowledge is dependent on 'faith' - for example, faith that the researcher responsible for an empirical conclusion is competent, and honest. A person could argue that scientific discovery begins with a scientist's faith that an unknown discovery is possible. Scientific discovery requires a passionate commitment to a result that is unknowable at the outset. The scientific method is not an objective method removed from man's passion.
Sometimes, faith means a belief in a relationship with a deity. In this case, "faith" is used in the sense of "fidelity." For many Jews, the Hebrew Bible and Talmud depict a committed but contentious relationship between their God and the Children of Israel. For a lot of people, faith or the lack thereof, is an important part of their identity.
More friends than you can imagine
Friday, July 06, 2007
"Jamison, i have written a new song"
"yeah?" asked jamison.
"i did."
"ok."
"Do you want me to sing it for you?"
"Sing what?" jamison said.
"the song i just wrote, man."
"Ok."
"ok?"
"yeah, ok." jamison stated in a defeated huff.
"nah, you dont act like you wanna hear it, ill just surprise you when you least expect it."
"i do want to hear. I want nothing more right this minute than to hear this song you wrote. i want to hear it and i want to hear it NOW!" jamison exclaimed.
"you say that now, but i mean, just five seconds ago you didnt. i read your body language. you're being a dufus."
"i'm not being a dufus, i have a splinter in my finger, JEEZ." jamison pouted.
"let me see it."
"no, you were going to sing the song."
"song?"
"yea, the song you wrote, remember?"
"it can wait. i need to see this splinter. i am calling your bluff."
"oh, i have a splinter, but it will be a cold day in hades before i show it to the likes of you." jamison said defiantly.
"thats what i thought."
"are you going to sing that song for me or what?"
"are you sure you want me to?"
"yes, for pete's sake, i wanna hear the song."
"i'll sing the song, but if your splinter is going to distract you, then i won't."
"dont sing it then, whatever."
"ok, ill sing it. [now singing] its the circle of liiiife. More friends than YOU can imagine. its the circle of life."
"stop. i have heard that before."
"no you havent i just wrote this song."
"i have heard that before. that candle in the wind guy sang that, but it didnt have the more friends part. More friends than you can imagine? what does that mean?"
"what do you mean, "what does that mean"?"
"how can you have more friends than you can imagine? is that more friends than i can image or more friends than you can imagine?"
"its subjective."
"i mean, i can imagine alot of friends."
"how many can YOU imagine?"
"alot".
"define alot, is that like forty?"
"no. forty is keeping it in the box, i can imagine an infinite number of friends."
"how?"
"how what? how can i imagine an infinite number of friends or how is that keeping it in the box?"
"the infinite part."
"i dont know. i just see a line of friends that never stops."
"what do their faces look like?"
"it doesnt matter."
"sure it does."
"well the line is so long that i cant imagine the faces til they get closer to me. the people in the back of the line are kinda blurry."
"i could imagine an infinite number of friends plus one."
"thats stupid."
"no its not, its mathematics. simple mathematics."
"why dont you go ahead and imagine infinity plus infinity then."
"now thats just crazy talk."
"you're right, that is crazy talk."
"no kidding."
"this whole conversation is ridiculous."
"dont say such hurtful things, its makes for a rather unpleasant conversation. Besides, imagining lots of friends isnt crazy, its nice. If everyone imagined more friends than they could imagine, everybody would be friends and we wouldnt have wars and murders and telemarketers."
"maybe."
"have you ordered your scooter yet?"
"we should really discuss that at the meeting."
"whens the meeting?"
"tonight. save it til then."
"ok, i gotta jet."
"see ya buddy"...[humming to himself] its the circle of liiiiife, more friends than you can emajeeeeen"
"Jamison, i have written a new song"
"yeah?" asked jamison.
"i did."
"ok."
"Do you want me to sing it for you?"
"Sing what?" jamison said.
"the song i just wrote, man."
"Ok."
"ok?"
"yeah, ok." jamison stated in a defeated huff.
"nah, you dont act like you wanna hear it, ill just surprise you when you least expect it."
"i do want to hear. I want nothing more right this minute than to hear this song you wrote. i want to hear it and i want to hear it NOW!" jamison exclaimed.
"you say that now, but i mean, just five seconds ago you didnt. i read your body language. you're being a dufus."
"i'm not being a dufus, i have a splinter in my finger, JEEZ." jamison pouted.
"let me see it."
"no, you were going to sing the song."
"song?"
"yea, the song you wrote, remember?"
"it can wait. i need to see this splinter. i am calling your bluff."
"oh, i have a splinter, but it will be a cold day in hades before i show it to the likes of you." jamison said defiantly.
"thats what i thought."
"are you going to sing that song for me or what?"
"are you sure you want me to?"
"yes, for pete's sake, i wanna hear the song."
"i'll sing the song, but if your splinter is going to distract you, then i won't."
"dont sing it then, whatever."
"ok, ill sing it. [now singing] its the circle of liiiife. More friends than YOU can imagine. its the circle of life."
"stop. i have heard that before."
"no you havent i just wrote this song."
"i have heard that before. that candle in the wind guy sang that, but it didnt have the more friends part. More friends than you can imagine? what does that mean?"
"what do you mean, "what does that mean"?"
"how can you have more friends than you can imagine? is that more friends than i can image or more friends than you can imagine?"
"its subjective."
"i mean, i can imagine alot of friends."
"how many can YOU imagine?"
"alot".
"define alot, is that like forty?"
"no. forty is keeping it in the box, i can imagine an infinite number of friends."
"how?"
"how what? how can i imagine an infinite number of friends or how is that keeping it in the box?"
"the infinite part."
"i dont know. i just see a line of friends that never stops."
"what do their faces look like?"
"it doesnt matter."
"sure it does."
"well the line is so long that i cant imagine the faces til they get closer to me. the people in the back of the line are kinda blurry."
"i could imagine an infinite number of friends plus one."
"thats stupid."
"no its not, its mathematics. simple mathematics."
"why dont you go ahead and imagine infinity plus infinity then."
"now thats just crazy talk."
"you're right, that is crazy talk."
"no kidding."
"this whole conversation is ridiculous."
"dont say such hurtful things, its makes for a rather unpleasant conversation. Besides, imagining lots of friends isnt crazy, its nice. If everyone imagined more friends than they could imagine, everybody would be friends and we wouldnt have wars and murders and telemarketers."
"maybe."
"have you ordered your scooter yet?"
"we should really discuss that at the meeting."
"whens the meeting?"
"tonight. save it til then."
"ok, i gotta jet."
"see ya buddy"...[humming to himself] its the circle of liiiiife, more friends than you can emajeeeeen"
To Hell With Your Standard
Sunday, July 15, 2007
[Thanks Mr. Lewis]
Ever heard someone arguing? How did it sound? Unpleasantly annoying? Funny?
These remarks especially from children are truly something we can learn from. Do you remember the kind of arguments you had as a child? I have a four year old so my memory has been refreshed. The types of arguments typically center around whats fair, whats right and whats wrong.
"Give me a piece of your candy, i gave you a piece of mine. Come on, you promised."
or
"thats my seat, i was there first, so what if i had to get up for minute" (or the alternative when i was growing up was "i called shotgun, i get the front seat.").
Now, whats interesting about such remarks isnt so much whats said but that one person is usually appealing to some kind of standard of behavior that he expects the other person to know about and rarely does the other person say to hell with your standard.
The other person may argue that he was not really going against the standard or that if he was he had some kind of acceptable special excuse.
Both parties it would seem have in mind some kind of sense of fair play or morality, whatever the case.
Arguing your case means you are trying to show the other person is wrong. Why would you try to prove something to be right unless there is an accepted sense of whats right and whats wrong?
Taking the human race as a whole the thought of decent behavior is fairly obvious to everyone. Everyone's sense of right and wrong varies a little, but world wide its pretty common amongst people groups to not steal or kill or lie or the like. Everyone (all the major religions regardless of how different) basically follow something resembling the golden rule.
If there wasnt a sense of right and wrong, then we could have no more blamed homocidal murderers or Nazis or whoever for what they did wrong anymore than we could blame them for the color of their hair.
Its funny when in the rare event you run into a person who doesnt believe in a real right or wrong, they are appealing to that same standard as soon as it suits them. He may break his promise to you, but as soon as you break your promise to him, he is screaming "its not fair" faster than you can say Hulk Hogan.
How well then do any of us keep to this standard? By and large we all believe it, unless we are lying to ourselves (and sooner than later, people believe their own lies), but unfortunately like children we are good at keeping to this standard when it suits us and making excuses when we fail at it because we cannot bear to face it and try to shift the responsibility to someone or something else.
Its never our fault, is it?
Next some objections and thanks again Mr. Lewis, you are the best. Thanks for your comments, friends.
[Thanks Mr. Lewis]
Ever heard someone arguing? How did it sound? Unpleasantly annoying? Funny?
These remarks especially from children are truly something we can learn from. Do you remember the kind of arguments you had as a child? I have a four year old so my memory has been refreshed. The types of arguments typically center around whats fair, whats right and whats wrong.
"Give me a piece of your candy, i gave you a piece of mine. Come on, you promised."
or
"thats my seat, i was there first, so what if i had to get up for minute" (or the alternative when i was growing up was "i called shotgun, i get the front seat.").
Now, whats interesting about such remarks isnt so much whats said but that one person is usually appealing to some kind of standard of behavior that he expects the other person to know about and rarely does the other person say to hell with your standard.
The other person may argue that he was not really going against the standard or that if he was he had some kind of acceptable special excuse.
Both parties it would seem have in mind some kind of sense of fair play or morality, whatever the case.
Arguing your case means you are trying to show the other person is wrong. Why would you try to prove something to be right unless there is an accepted sense of whats right and whats wrong?
Taking the human race as a whole the thought of decent behavior is fairly obvious to everyone. Everyone's sense of right and wrong varies a little, but world wide its pretty common amongst people groups to not steal or kill or lie or the like. Everyone (all the major religions regardless of how different) basically follow something resembling the golden rule.
If there wasnt a sense of right and wrong, then we could have no more blamed homocidal murderers or Nazis or whoever for what they did wrong anymore than we could blame them for the color of their hair.
Its funny when in the rare event you run into a person who doesnt believe in a real right or wrong, they are appealing to that same standard as soon as it suits them. He may break his promise to you, but as soon as you break your promise to him, he is screaming "its not fair" faster than you can say Hulk Hogan.
How well then do any of us keep to this standard? By and large we all believe it, unless we are lying to ourselves (and sooner than later, people believe their own lies), but unfortunately like children we are good at keeping to this standard when it suits us and making excuses when we fail at it because we cannot bear to face it and try to shift the responsibility to someone or something else.
Its never our fault, is it?
Next some objections and thanks again Mr. Lewis, you are the best. Thanks for your comments, friends.
crime and punishment
Monday, July 16, 2007
What is this law of decent human behavior or natural laws or moral compass or whatever you feel comfortable calling it?
Is it an instinct? I am not denying we have certain instincts, for example the herd instinct or sexual instinct or the instinct of a mother. We all know what it feels like to be prompted by instinct. Its a strong desire to act in a certain way.
BUT this feeling of desire to act in a certain way is much different than the feeling you "ought" to act in a certain way.
If someone is in danger, you may feel you should help (herd instinct) and you may feel you should flee to save yourself from danger. In addition to these two impulses, you have a feeling you "ought" to follow the impulse to help. It is a separate thing, this "ought" and it cant be itself and one of the first two impulses or instincts.
For arguments sake, if instinct was the moral compass and like in this example there are two impulses, which then is the good choice and which is the bad choice?
Confused? Dont be, although this easily could be a stumbling block, hold fast and i'll make another point.
Lets use a soldier as an example in this situation. In battle, he would have both impulses, herd (help and fight) and flee. There is obviously going to be times he should fight and times he should flee, how would this instinct define the "good" choice? If he killed a man in battle that could be justified, but if by the same instinct he killed a man over a simple argument back in his hometown after the war, how would you justify that?
Or we could use a husband as an example. He obviously should have a sexual instinct or desire for his wife and fulfill his marital duty, but what if he had a sexual desire for some strange woman and acted on that against her will. There is time to suppress any instinct so there must be another standard or law of behavior that leads a person to know when to encourage or suppress a given impulse.
You could also think on this like a note on a piano. Every single note is right at one time and wrong at another. Think on this law of human nature as the "tune" directing the notes or "instincts".
Ok, we have ruled out (at least in my mind) that its not instincts, could it then be what we have learned, perhaps from our parents?
You cant rule it out, but this law of human decency is more than that. Lets say we have two sets of parents and one set of parents upheld this "law" and taught the children well and another set of parents did not embrace this law and taught their children a different set of rules, one that encouraged a more subjective rule. Is one right? Is one wrong?
If no set of rules were truer than another, there would be no sense in preferring a savage society to a more decent one or a Nazi society to a society that embraced a "golden rule" mentality.
The moment you say one set of rules is better than another, you are using a "standard" to make that determination. We are measuring the rules by a standard that the majority of the civilized world inherently knows.
If there was no standard, then we would all agree that no one deserved any punishment, or imprisonment or even the death penalty regardless of the crime.
If someone killed a person dear to your heart, would you not declare that the perpetrator deserved punishment? You would and you would be using this law of human decency as your standard.
Thanks Mr. Lewis, its all you big dawg, its all you.
What is this law of decent human behavior or natural laws or moral compass or whatever you feel comfortable calling it?
Is it an instinct? I am not denying we have certain instincts, for example the herd instinct or sexual instinct or the instinct of a mother. We all know what it feels like to be prompted by instinct. Its a strong desire to act in a certain way.
BUT this feeling of desire to act in a certain way is much different than the feeling you "ought" to act in a certain way.
If someone is in danger, you may feel you should help (herd instinct) and you may feel you should flee to save yourself from danger. In addition to these two impulses, you have a feeling you "ought" to follow the impulse to help. It is a separate thing, this "ought" and it cant be itself and one of the first two impulses or instincts.
For arguments sake, if instinct was the moral compass and like in this example there are two impulses, which then is the good choice and which is the bad choice?
Confused? Dont be, although this easily could be a stumbling block, hold fast and i'll make another point.
Lets use a soldier as an example in this situation. In battle, he would have both impulses, herd (help and fight) and flee. There is obviously going to be times he should fight and times he should flee, how would this instinct define the "good" choice? If he killed a man in battle that could be justified, but if by the same instinct he killed a man over a simple argument back in his hometown after the war, how would you justify that?
Or we could use a husband as an example. He obviously should have a sexual instinct or desire for his wife and fulfill his marital duty, but what if he had a sexual desire for some strange woman and acted on that against her will. There is time to suppress any instinct so there must be another standard or law of behavior that leads a person to know when to encourage or suppress a given impulse.
You could also think on this like a note on a piano. Every single note is right at one time and wrong at another. Think on this law of human nature as the "tune" directing the notes or "instincts".
Ok, we have ruled out (at least in my mind) that its not instincts, could it then be what we have learned, perhaps from our parents?
You cant rule it out, but this law of human decency is more than that. Lets say we have two sets of parents and one set of parents upheld this "law" and taught the children well and another set of parents did not embrace this law and taught their children a different set of rules, one that encouraged a more subjective rule. Is one right? Is one wrong?
If no set of rules were truer than another, there would be no sense in preferring a savage society to a more decent one or a Nazi society to a society that embraced a "golden rule" mentality.
The moment you say one set of rules is better than another, you are using a "standard" to make that determination. We are measuring the rules by a standard that the majority of the civilized world inherently knows.
If there was no standard, then we would all agree that no one deserved any punishment, or imprisonment or even the death penalty regardless of the crime.
If someone killed a person dear to your heart, would you not declare that the perpetrator deserved punishment? You would and you would be using this law of human decency as your standard.
Thanks Mr. Lewis, its all you big dawg, its all you.
the russian cosmonaut monk letters
Monday, July 30, 2007
While visiting DC, Wilde spotted a group of monks entering a Borders Bookstore. Wilde always interested in talking to different peoples from all over the world entertained the thought of going over and talking to them.
From across the street where the Hotel Harrington faced the Borders Bookstore, Wilde yelled to the group of monks...
Wilde: hey guys, wait up!
The monks appeared to have paid little to no attention to Wilde. Wilde yelled again.
Wilde: I like your robes!
This time Wilde caught the attention of the youngest looking monk who was holding the door for the others.
Monk holding the door: hello back (he said in almost a whisper).
Wilde: Can I come to the other side of the street and speak with you?
Monk: Son, you are on the other side of the street.
The monk tried to keep a straight face but wound up laughing hysterically. The other monks had already entered the bookstore and the monk seemed freer to laugh.
Wilde ran across the street before the crosswalk timer expired.
Wilde: hey there (Wilde extended his hand for a shake)
Monk: (glanced down at Wilde handed and shook his head indicating he preferred not to shake and then slightly bowed toward Wilde. Wilde bowed back.).
Wilde: Hi, I am r.wilde. nice to meet ya.
Monk: my name is Takamoto.
Wilde: what is that? Chinese? Japanese?
Takamoto: I not reely sure. Chinese, I tink.
Wilde: oh, its not your real name?
Takamoto: no, real name is Yuri Kozlovsky. That no reel monk sounding name, ya know? You may have heard of me. I am famous Russian cosmonaut.
Takamoto had been one of the infamous Russian cosmonaut crewmembers that had been accused of "flying drunk". After much ballyhoo his good name was later cleared, but he never rebounded from the negative press. He left his village Svetlana where he had at one time equaled David Hasslehoff's fame. He was never able to reach the Russian celebrity status again and became very depressed.
Svetlana was the same village that Napoleon's grandmother had been raised in and their families were close. Napoleon's grandmother's youngest living relative, Napoleon's great great great great great great great nephew, the Great Blandino had been a monk. He had one son from a marriage before joining the monastery. His son Martin joined up and talked Yuri into the idea. They both aspired to learn Kung Fu and practice the art of Japanese tree trimming called Bonsai. Martin told Takamoto that Bonsai would cure his depression.
Wilde asked to meet Martin too, but Takamoto informed him that Martin had taken a vow of silence for 5 days and besides he was looking at books in the gardening section and was very focused on memorizing certain pages so he didn't have to buy the book. Takamoto hated to bother him.
Takamoto was great to talk to. The two discussed many things. Before Takamoto would be allowed to learn Kung Fu, he had to pass his trial period.
There are trial periods in becoming a buddhist monk to see if you would want to become a buddhist monk, if you in fact do, you stay there at the monastery The monks must follow their disciplinary code called the Patimokkha. There are around 300 rules that Takamoto had to remember and obey. This obviously consumed much of Takamoto's time in the monastery.
They talked in depth about these rules. Takamoto had problems with the logic of certain rules. Below, the rules Takamoto disliked are itemized.
Parajikas Rules
If a monk breaks any one of the rules he is automatically 'defeated' in the holy life and falls from monkhood immediately. He is not allowed to become a monk again in his lifetime. Intention is necessary in all these four cases to constitute on offence. The four rules of parajikas for bhikku are:
Sexual intercourse, that is, any voluntary sexual interaction between a bhikku and a living being, except for mouth-to-mouth intercourse which falls under the Sanghadisesa.
Stealing, that is, the robbery of anything worth more than 1/24 troy ounce of gold
Takamoto, number one hated to not have a girlfriend. In Russia, he had many girlfriends. But the rule that bothered Takamoto the most was rule No.2 about stealing. He decided to test the limits and would constantly steal items of almost no value. He didn't need them so he would wind up discarding them.
Sanghadiseasa Rules
If the monk breaks any rule here he has to undergo a period of probation or displine after which, if he shows himself to be repentant, he may reinstated by a sangha of not less than twenty monks.
A few of these rules Takamoto had disdain for were:
Contact with a woman, including kissing or holding hands.
Requesting sexual favors from a woman, or telling her that she would benefit (i.e., spiritually) from having sex with the monk.
Building a hut without permission from the sangha, or building a hut that exceed 3 x 1.75 meters in size.
Having someone else build a hut for you without permission from the sangha, or exceeding 3 x 1.75 meters in size.
Rejecting well-grounded criticism, even after having been rebuked three times.
Takamoto had so planned on playing the monk card for his benefit and although he didn't want to build a hut, he didn't like being told he couldn't build one without permission. That's just how Takamoto rolled.
Aniyata Rules
The aniyata are two indefinite rules where a monk is accused of having committed an offence with a woman in a screened (enclosed) or private place by a lay person. It is indefinite because the final outcome depends on whether the monk acknowledges the offence. Benefit of the doubt is given to the monk unless there is over-riding evidence.
Takamoto told me about how he planned to hold hands with a certain nun and use his piety as a monk to call her a liar if she told anyone since he expected to be given the benefit of the doubt. At this point I questioned his commitment to monkhood out loud. Again, he told me how much he like kung fu.
Nissaggiya Pacittiya Rules
Keeping an extra robe for more than ten days after receiving a new one.
Sleeping in a separate place from any of his three robes.
Keeping an out-of-season robe for more than thirty days when one has expectation for a new robe.
Accepting a robe from the laity after asking two or more of them to pool their funds in order to buy a nicer robe (since this indicates an excess of desire)..
Making or accepting a blanket or rug fewer than six years after you last made or accepted one.
Carrying raw wool for more than 48 km.
Buying or selling goods.
Asking for a new bowl when your old bowl is not beyond repair.
Taking a medicine from storage for more than seven days.
Taking back a loaned robe out of anger.
Being separated from your robes for more than six nights if you are living in a dangerously distant village and need to separate yourself from your robes after the Rains Retreat.
If a robe was just about all Takamoto could have, he didn't see the problem with having a nice one and he definitely wanted a new bowl for with a new bowl came bragging rights among the brethern.
Also, their rules forbid the use of money, although this rule is nowadays not kept by all monks (wink, wink).
Pacittiya rules entailing confession
Accepting and eating food from a family living in a dangerous location, unless if the monk is sick.
The local people give food for the monks to eat. The problem for Takamoto is that the people from two villages away make better food than the village closest to him. Although he had heard of recent lion attacks to travelers, Takamoto still wanted them to bring him food so he pretended to be sick too often. This was very suspicious to all the other monks.
Takamoto had joined to become a kung fu expert and constantly feared being exposed for this less than desirable reason to be a monk and get kicked out forever.
Chinese Buddhist monks have been traditionally linked with the practice of the Chinese martial arts or Kung fu and monks are frequently important characters in martial arts films. This excited Takamoto but Wilde found it strange that Takamoto was not familiar with Bruce Lee.
This association is focused around the Shaolin Monastery. The Buddhist monk Bodhidharma, traditionally credited as the founder ofZen Buddhism in China, is also claimed to have introduced Kung fu to the country. This latter claim has however been a source of much controversy is much disputed in India.
Wilde told Takamoto that although he didn't care to become a Buddhist or well versed in kung fu, he thought llamas were great, so great in fact that Wilde told Takamoto of his own llama, Jerry. Wilde told Takamoto of many adventures involving his mischievous llama. Takamoto did not understand the llama reference so Wilde asked about the Dali Lama.
Takamoto: I have no clue what you are talking about, this lama.
Takamoto then told Wilde of how he liked to hide in various dimly light places around the monastery and frighten the other monks. It seemed as though Takamoto needed to get a lot of things off of his chest and Wilde enjoyed listening to other interesting people.
Wilde: Well, Takamoto, I have to go. We have an 11oclock appointment to meet our state representative and tour congress.
Takamoto: very well.
Wilde: We will probably grab a bite to eat tonight at Harry's, if you guys would like to join us.
Takamoto: if I can, then I will.
Wilde: so it's a promise?
Takamoto: no, that's not what I said grassjumper.
Wilde: grassjumper? You mean grasshopper?
Takamoto: If you prefer.
Wilde: See ya later this evening, hopefully.
Takamoto: peace out dawg. Until then.
p.s. i know that takamoto is a japanese name, not chinese, dont ask me about this, ask takamoto
While visiting DC, Wilde spotted a group of monks entering a Borders Bookstore. Wilde always interested in talking to different peoples from all over the world entertained the thought of going over and talking to them.
From across the street where the Hotel Harrington faced the Borders Bookstore, Wilde yelled to the group of monks...
Wilde: hey guys, wait up!
The monks appeared to have paid little to no attention to Wilde. Wilde yelled again.
Wilde: I like your robes!
This time Wilde caught the attention of the youngest looking monk who was holding the door for the others.
Monk holding the door: hello back (he said in almost a whisper).
Wilde: Can I come to the other side of the street and speak with you?
Monk: Son, you are on the other side of the street.
The monk tried to keep a straight face but wound up laughing hysterically. The other monks had already entered the bookstore and the monk seemed freer to laugh.
Wilde ran across the street before the crosswalk timer expired.
Wilde: hey there (Wilde extended his hand for a shake)
Monk: (glanced down at Wilde handed and shook his head indicating he preferred not to shake and then slightly bowed toward Wilde. Wilde bowed back.).
Wilde: Hi, I am r.wilde. nice to meet ya.
Monk: my name is Takamoto.
Wilde: what is that? Chinese? Japanese?
Takamoto: I not reely sure. Chinese, I tink.
Wilde: oh, its not your real name?
Takamoto: no, real name is Yuri Kozlovsky. That no reel monk sounding name, ya know? You may have heard of me. I am famous Russian cosmonaut.
Takamoto had been one of the infamous Russian cosmonaut crewmembers that had been accused of "flying drunk". After much ballyhoo his good name was later cleared, but he never rebounded from the negative press. He left his village Svetlana where he had at one time equaled David Hasslehoff's fame. He was never able to reach the Russian celebrity status again and became very depressed.
Svetlana was the same village that Napoleon's grandmother had been raised in and their families were close. Napoleon's grandmother's youngest living relative, Napoleon's great great great great great great great nephew, the Great Blandino had been a monk. He had one son from a marriage before joining the monastery. His son Martin joined up and talked Yuri into the idea. They both aspired to learn Kung Fu and practice the art of Japanese tree trimming called Bonsai. Martin told Takamoto that Bonsai would cure his depression.
Wilde asked to meet Martin too, but Takamoto informed him that Martin had taken a vow of silence for 5 days and besides he was looking at books in the gardening section and was very focused on memorizing certain pages so he didn't have to buy the book. Takamoto hated to bother him.
Takamoto was great to talk to. The two discussed many things. Before Takamoto would be allowed to learn Kung Fu, he had to pass his trial period.
There are trial periods in becoming a buddhist monk to see if you would want to become a buddhist monk, if you in fact do, you stay there at the monastery The monks must follow their disciplinary code called the Patimokkha. There are around 300 rules that Takamoto had to remember and obey. This obviously consumed much of Takamoto's time in the monastery.
They talked in depth about these rules. Takamoto had problems with the logic of certain rules. Below, the rules Takamoto disliked are itemized.
Parajikas Rules
If a monk breaks any one of the rules he is automatically 'defeated' in the holy life and falls from monkhood immediately. He is not allowed to become a monk again in his lifetime. Intention is necessary in all these four cases to constitute on offence. The four rules of parajikas for bhikku are:
Sexual intercourse, that is, any voluntary sexual interaction between a bhikku and a living being, except for mouth-to-mouth intercourse which falls under the Sanghadisesa.
Stealing, that is, the robbery of anything worth more than 1/24 troy ounce of gold
Takamoto, number one hated to not have a girlfriend. In Russia, he had many girlfriends. But the rule that bothered Takamoto the most was rule No.2 about stealing. He decided to test the limits and would constantly steal items of almost no value. He didn't need them so he would wind up discarding them.
Sanghadiseasa Rules
If the monk breaks any rule here he has to undergo a period of probation or displine after which, if he shows himself to be repentant, he may reinstated by a sangha of not less than twenty monks.
A few of these rules Takamoto had disdain for were:
Contact with a woman, including kissing or holding hands.
Requesting sexual favors from a woman, or telling her that she would benefit (i.e., spiritually) from having sex with the monk.
Building a hut without permission from the sangha, or building a hut that exceed 3 x 1.75 meters in size.
Having someone else build a hut for you without permission from the sangha, or exceeding 3 x 1.75 meters in size.
Rejecting well-grounded criticism, even after having been rebuked three times.
Takamoto had so planned on playing the monk card for his benefit and although he didn't want to build a hut, he didn't like being told he couldn't build one without permission. That's just how Takamoto rolled.
Aniyata Rules
The aniyata are two indefinite rules where a monk is accused of having committed an offence with a woman in a screened (enclosed) or private place by a lay person. It is indefinite because the final outcome depends on whether the monk acknowledges the offence. Benefit of the doubt is given to the monk unless there is over-riding evidence.
Takamoto told me about how he planned to hold hands with a certain nun and use his piety as a monk to call her a liar if she told anyone since he expected to be given the benefit of the doubt. At this point I questioned his commitment to monkhood out loud. Again, he told me how much he like kung fu.
Nissaggiya Pacittiya Rules
Keeping an extra robe for more than ten days after receiving a new one.
Sleeping in a separate place from any of his three robes.
Keeping an out-of-season robe for more than thirty days when one has expectation for a new robe.
Accepting a robe from the laity after asking two or more of them to pool their funds in order to buy a nicer robe (since this indicates an excess of desire)..
Making or accepting a blanket or rug fewer than six years after you last made or accepted one.
Carrying raw wool for more than 48 km.
Buying or selling goods.
Asking for a new bowl when your old bowl is not beyond repair.
Taking a medicine from storage for more than seven days.
Taking back a loaned robe out of anger.
Being separated from your robes for more than six nights if you are living in a dangerously distant village and need to separate yourself from your robes after the Rains Retreat.
If a robe was just about all Takamoto could have, he didn't see the problem with having a nice one and he definitely wanted a new bowl for with a new bowl came bragging rights among the brethern.
Also, their rules forbid the use of money, although this rule is nowadays not kept by all monks (wink, wink).
Pacittiya rules entailing confession
Accepting and eating food from a family living in a dangerous location, unless if the monk is sick.
The local people give food for the monks to eat. The problem for Takamoto is that the people from two villages away make better food than the village closest to him. Although he had heard of recent lion attacks to travelers, Takamoto still wanted them to bring him food so he pretended to be sick too often. This was very suspicious to all the other monks.
Takamoto had joined to become a kung fu expert and constantly feared being exposed for this less than desirable reason to be a monk and get kicked out forever.
Chinese Buddhist monks have been traditionally linked with the practice of the Chinese martial arts or Kung fu and monks are frequently important characters in martial arts films. This excited Takamoto but Wilde found it strange that Takamoto was not familiar with Bruce Lee.
This association is focused around the Shaolin Monastery. The Buddhist monk Bodhidharma, traditionally credited as the founder ofZen Buddhism in China, is also claimed to have introduced Kung fu to the country. This latter claim has however been a source of much controversy is much disputed in India.
Wilde told Takamoto that although he didn't care to become a Buddhist or well versed in kung fu, he thought llamas were great, so great in fact that Wilde told Takamoto of his own llama, Jerry. Wilde told Takamoto of many adventures involving his mischievous llama. Takamoto did not understand the llama reference so Wilde asked about the Dali Lama.
Takamoto: I have no clue what you are talking about, this lama.
Takamoto then told Wilde of how he liked to hide in various dimly light places around the monastery and frighten the other monks. It seemed as though Takamoto needed to get a lot of things off of his chest and Wilde enjoyed listening to other interesting people.
Wilde: Well, Takamoto, I have to go. We have an 11oclock appointment to meet our state representative and tour congress.
Takamoto: very well.
Wilde: We will probably grab a bite to eat tonight at Harry's, if you guys would like to join us.
Takamoto: if I can, then I will.
Wilde: so it's a promise?
Takamoto: no, that's not what I said grassjumper.
Wilde: grassjumper? You mean grasshopper?
Takamoto: If you prefer.
Wilde: See ya later this evening, hopefully.
Takamoto: peace out dawg. Until then.
p.s. i know that takamoto is a japanese name, not chinese, dont ask me about this, ask takamoto
When Pigs Fly
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Wilde again went to the Bronx to see the Yankees play hoping to see A-Rod's 500th homer. Alas, it was not to be on that night, but two nights later. Poor Wilde.
Wilde made an open invitation to everyone on the jobsite to go to the game. About 16 of his closest jobsite friends accepted the invitation and joined him at the ball park.
Most of the guys that attended the game with Wilde were relatively young with the exception of Don. Don, a 68 year old spitfire was never one to miss the opportunity to enjoy the festivities of going to the big city.
Don was an old country boy that grew up raising horses in Randolph County Alabama. Don had been a close friend of Burt Reynolds, breaking horses for the Bandit. Wilde believed that Don got his wild streak from hanging with Burt back in the 1970's.
Recently, Don had been included in many activities the younger guys engaged in, including sky diving for Tyler's birthday. About a week before the ball game, the young crew, minus Wilde had taken Don into the city to a hip hop night club they frequented.
Don didnt go anywhere without his cowboy hat placed securely on his head. Once he got into the night club he began receiving riducle from other nightclubbers for his attire. Suffice it to say, the old man was not about to take any lip from a bunch of hippity hop kids so he pulled his knife out of his pocket and threatened to "slit their throats". Subsequently he was "thrown out" of the establishment.
The skinny old man who was usually very mild mannered could definitely be a handful if he had a beer or three so Wilde was concerned that similar behavior at the ball park could potentially be concluded with a few mishaps, but there was no talking with Don. He knew what he was doing, he was raised up with the Burt Reynolds, the old pigskin captain from Florida State for pete's sake.
Just to be safe, Wilde secured tickets for Don and most the crew about four rows behind where he was sitting. This was a good idea. No problems, and then Wilde felt something hit him in the back. It was a peanut. Wilde looked back and saw old Don laughly uncontrollably. Wilde smiled and turned back around to watch the game. The Yankees were playing the White Sox and the yanks were beginning to run away with the game and A-Rod was up to bat.
On the same row with Don sat a few White Sox fans who were loudly shouting their disdain for all things Yankee. The Yankee fans begain to stand up, point and chant "wrong house" to the disorderly Sox fan. A tussle ensued. Don, now the purveyor of peace settled the crowd down with a loud redneck two hands in mouth whistle. He was everyone's hero, for the moment. The police officer who walked up the steps was even smiling at Don.
It wasnt long until the opposing fans were at it again. One of them bumped into Don causing him to spill his 8 dollar cup of beer. Don was not pleased and had a few choice words for the bumper. To make a long story short, Don pulled his knife out from his boot where he had tucked it away in hiding and waved the knife in the air.
This did not go over well and Don was of course removed from the ball park. He wound up spending the night in jail at the bronx precint near the stadium. Two days later Wilde asked Don what had happened. Don didnt remember the details but he said that those new yorkers told him although they had never been to Alabama, he was alright.
Wilde told Don that he was just going to have to start leaving his knife at home.
Wilde: "What if you had wound up stabbing that guy Don?"
Don: "So, it wouldnt have killed him and it would have shut him up."
Wilde: "Don, how'd you even get the knife in the stadium?"
Don: "it wasnt hard, i put it in my boot and told the security people that the boots were steel toed."
Don asked Wilde when they were going to go to another game and Wilde told him "when pigs fly". Don responded knowing fully well how much of a fan of Burt Reynolds Wilde was, "Dont expect an invite to meet the Bandit when he comes to town then".
Wilde was crushed.....
Wilde again went to the Bronx to see the Yankees play hoping to see A-Rod's 500th homer. Alas, it was not to be on that night, but two nights later. Poor Wilde.
Wilde made an open invitation to everyone on the jobsite to go to the game. About 16 of his closest jobsite friends accepted the invitation and joined him at the ball park.
Most of the guys that attended the game with Wilde were relatively young with the exception of Don. Don, a 68 year old spitfire was never one to miss the opportunity to enjoy the festivities of going to the big city.
Don was an old country boy that grew up raising horses in Randolph County Alabama. Don had been a close friend of Burt Reynolds, breaking horses for the Bandit. Wilde believed that Don got his wild streak from hanging with Burt back in the 1970's.
Recently, Don had been included in many activities the younger guys engaged in, including sky diving for Tyler's birthday. About a week before the ball game, the young crew, minus Wilde had taken Don into the city to a hip hop night club they frequented.
Don didnt go anywhere without his cowboy hat placed securely on his head. Once he got into the night club he began receiving riducle from other nightclubbers for his attire. Suffice it to say, the old man was not about to take any lip from a bunch of hippity hop kids so he pulled his knife out of his pocket and threatened to "slit their throats". Subsequently he was "thrown out" of the establishment.
The skinny old man who was usually very mild mannered could definitely be a handful if he had a beer or three so Wilde was concerned that similar behavior at the ball park could potentially be concluded with a few mishaps, but there was no talking with Don. He knew what he was doing, he was raised up with the Burt Reynolds, the old pigskin captain from Florida State for pete's sake.
Just to be safe, Wilde secured tickets for Don and most the crew about four rows behind where he was sitting. This was a good idea. No problems, and then Wilde felt something hit him in the back. It was a peanut. Wilde looked back and saw old Don laughly uncontrollably. Wilde smiled and turned back around to watch the game. The Yankees were playing the White Sox and the yanks were beginning to run away with the game and A-Rod was up to bat.
On the same row with Don sat a few White Sox fans who were loudly shouting their disdain for all things Yankee. The Yankee fans begain to stand up, point and chant "wrong house" to the disorderly Sox fan. A tussle ensued. Don, now the purveyor of peace settled the crowd down with a loud redneck two hands in mouth whistle. He was everyone's hero, for the moment. The police officer who walked up the steps was even smiling at Don.
It wasnt long until the opposing fans were at it again. One of them bumped into Don causing him to spill his 8 dollar cup of beer. Don was not pleased and had a few choice words for the bumper. To make a long story short, Don pulled his knife out from his boot where he had tucked it away in hiding and waved the knife in the air.
This did not go over well and Don was of course removed from the ball park. He wound up spending the night in jail at the bronx precint near the stadium. Two days later Wilde asked Don what had happened. Don didnt remember the details but he said that those new yorkers told him although they had never been to Alabama, he was alright.
Wilde told Don that he was just going to have to start leaving his knife at home.
Wilde: "What if you had wound up stabbing that guy Don?"
Don: "So, it wouldnt have killed him and it would have shut him up."
Wilde: "Don, how'd you even get the knife in the stadium?"
Don: "it wasnt hard, i put it in my boot and told the security people that the boots were steel toed."
Don asked Wilde when they were going to go to another game and Wilde told him "when pigs fly". Don responded knowing fully well how much of a fan of Burt Reynolds Wilde was, "Dont expect an invite to meet the Bandit when he comes to town then".
Wilde was crushed.....
unopportune timing
Friday, August 24, 2007
Wilde stated an observation that he had made over his short life to his dear wife. "Honey, have you ever noticed how things happen at an exact unconvenient time? For instance as we drive down this street, the traffic light will change when we approach it forcing me to decide between running the yellow light or slamming on the brakes."
"when you come to a stop sign on a sleepy street in the late a.m., you'll have to wait on a car before you can go. There was no car for an hour before you get to the sign and there will be no car for an hour after you pass the street, but for some reason when you approach, a car will come along and require you to wait."
"Most of my observations in this regard have a common theme. There is always a car involved. At night when i pass under street lights while driving, they very often flicker and go out. They dont go out when i see them down the road, they go out at the precise moment i travel under them. I find these types of occurrences quite peculiar."
So yesterday r.wilde took the opportunity to mow the law before the stifling heat set in. Wilde noticed another similiar observation.
Wilde pushed the mower to the back yard as he finished the lawn. He walked back around the gate to move the hose when he noticed a tiny deer. It still had its spots. Man oh man did it look like Bambi only it wasnt talking and there was no forest fire to speak of.
Wilde rushed to the back door, demanding that Larae come see the critter. She came out and they slowly walked around the house, but the deer had moved. As they peered back around the front of the house a car started up the hill coming in the direction toward Wilde's home. The baby deer who was only about knee high jumped when she heard the sound of the rumbling engine.
"Didja see how high she jumped?" Wilde asked, "that woulda been over my head!"
Just then when the vehicle was about to pass by the house, the deer darted in front of the car. The driver slammed on his brakes and looked over at Wilde.
Wilde put his arms up and shrugged his shoulders as to imply "dont look at me, thats not my deer or anything".
The deer dashed to the neighbor's house across the street and slammed head first into their privacy fence. The driver and Wilde looked at each other in utter amazement and ran to check on the deer.
The driver motioned to Wilde that he was deaf. They communicated pretty well considering their circumstances. The deer bounced back up and was gone. They chased him through a neighbor's lot, but were disappointed to come up empty handed.
The driver made hand motions and spoke in muted tones to tell Wilde that this was the second deer he had almost hit this morning. Both were close calls. Wilde waved goodbye and the driver gave him the thumbs up as he got back in his car that had been parked in the middle of th road and drove off.
As Wilde relayed the story to Larae, she expressed sentiment for the deer (running into a wall; no mommy deer; etc...) and the driver.
"Why didja feel bad for the driver? he didnt actually hit the deer or anything."
"i dunno", she stated.
"was it cause he's deaf?"
She didnt say anything.
"I wouldnt feel sorry for him, he had a tribal tattoo on his arms and was smoking a cigar. I am sure he has friends."
She erupted in laughter. "thats sounds like something you'd say. you're so stupid!" More laughter ensued.
"wanna know the odd thing though Larae? That deer could have run across the street a minute or two before or after he drove by, but its like i was telling you, this stuff happens unexpectedly at the most unopportune times. crazy...."
"doesnt make any sense", she said.
"thats what ive been trying to tell you!"
"no, i mean you. you dont make any sense."
"maybe i dont, but at least i'm not a girl!" And Wilde stormed off. he didnt speak narry a peep for the rest of the day, except to say "woman! whats for lunch?"
.....
am i the only one that notices this kind of stuff? its the stuff lives made of...for me anyway. I guess its part of the test, maybe has something to do with patience. Go figure.
Wilde stated an observation that he had made over his short life to his dear wife. "Honey, have you ever noticed how things happen at an exact unconvenient time? For instance as we drive down this street, the traffic light will change when we approach it forcing me to decide between running the yellow light or slamming on the brakes."
"when you come to a stop sign on a sleepy street in the late a.m., you'll have to wait on a car before you can go. There was no car for an hour before you get to the sign and there will be no car for an hour after you pass the street, but for some reason when you approach, a car will come along and require you to wait."
"Most of my observations in this regard have a common theme. There is always a car involved. At night when i pass under street lights while driving, they very often flicker and go out. They dont go out when i see them down the road, they go out at the precise moment i travel under them. I find these types of occurrences quite peculiar."
So yesterday r.wilde took the opportunity to mow the law before the stifling heat set in. Wilde noticed another similiar observation.
Wilde pushed the mower to the back yard as he finished the lawn. He walked back around the gate to move the hose when he noticed a tiny deer. It still had its spots. Man oh man did it look like Bambi only it wasnt talking and there was no forest fire to speak of.
Wilde rushed to the back door, demanding that Larae come see the critter. She came out and they slowly walked around the house, but the deer had moved. As they peered back around the front of the house a car started up the hill coming in the direction toward Wilde's home. The baby deer who was only about knee high jumped when she heard the sound of the rumbling engine.
"Didja see how high she jumped?" Wilde asked, "that woulda been over my head!"
Just then when the vehicle was about to pass by the house, the deer darted in front of the car. The driver slammed on his brakes and looked over at Wilde.
Wilde put his arms up and shrugged his shoulders as to imply "dont look at me, thats not my deer or anything".
The deer dashed to the neighbor's house across the street and slammed head first into their privacy fence. The driver and Wilde looked at each other in utter amazement and ran to check on the deer.
The driver motioned to Wilde that he was deaf. They communicated pretty well considering their circumstances. The deer bounced back up and was gone. They chased him through a neighbor's lot, but were disappointed to come up empty handed.
The driver made hand motions and spoke in muted tones to tell Wilde that this was the second deer he had almost hit this morning. Both were close calls. Wilde waved goodbye and the driver gave him the thumbs up as he got back in his car that had been parked in the middle of th road and drove off.
As Wilde relayed the story to Larae, she expressed sentiment for the deer (running into a wall; no mommy deer; etc...) and the driver.
"Why didja feel bad for the driver? he didnt actually hit the deer or anything."
"i dunno", she stated.
"was it cause he's deaf?"
She didnt say anything.
"I wouldnt feel sorry for him, he had a tribal tattoo on his arms and was smoking a cigar. I am sure he has friends."
She erupted in laughter. "thats sounds like something you'd say. you're so stupid!" More laughter ensued.
"wanna know the odd thing though Larae? That deer could have run across the street a minute or two before or after he drove by, but its like i was telling you, this stuff happens unexpectedly at the most unopportune times. crazy...."
"doesnt make any sense", she said.
"thats what ive been trying to tell you!"
"no, i mean you. you dont make any sense."
"maybe i dont, but at least i'm not a girl!" And Wilde stormed off. he didnt speak narry a peep for the rest of the day, except to say "woman! whats for lunch?"
.....
am i the only one that notices this kind of stuff? its the stuff lives made of...for me anyway. I guess its part of the test, maybe has something to do with patience. Go figure.
Brantley
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Brantley - On The Road
Brantley had divided most of his young adult life roaming around the vast American landscape and life at home with his friends. Faced with a changing post war modern world, he sought to find his place, but eventually came to reject alot of the social norms. His heart's music often reflected a desire to break free from society's structure and to find a higher meaning to life.
This search led Brantley to experiment with different things that shall remain undisclosed and to embark on trips around the world. His favorite mode of travel was by train. He always fancied hoping in a box car and riding the rails, but sometimes he did pay for a ticket. His travels took him many places and he gathered many fascinating stories.
One such story found our dear Brantley walking down what must have felt like an endless highway. As he approached what appeared to be a ghost town of sorts in a western state that didnt matter, Brantley began to notice snakes laying all over the road.
Terrified of snakes, Brantley studied the situation for a short time and even tossed a few rocks toward the general vicinity of the aforementioned snakes. They remained undisturbed. They were soaking up the sun and didnt care one way or the other about a passer-by. Brantley continued his journey, hopping over the snakes one by one.
He had not traveled far past the snakes. The town was in the distance, probably a good mile away and Brantley noticed a single car traversing toward him. Its not a big deal to see a lone car passing down the highway, but this car had its headlights on and then strobes mounted on the roof of the car began to flicker blue.
The police officer stopped the car beside Brantley and began to question what Brantley was doing walking. Brantley told the officer of his intentions and the officer cut him off.
Officer: "I'll tell you what you do, son. What you do is this, turn around and keep walking in the other direction. We dont need people like you coming around here starting trouble."
Brantley began to lose heart.
Brantley: "Sir, I dont want any trouble but i figured i go into town and at least get some food and definitely refill my water pouch."
Officer: "thats a big negative boy. Nothing to eat here, go back the other way."
So Brantley had no other options. He turned back around and hadnt gotten very far when another car slowed down beside him. It was a kindly lady in her mid forties named Brenda.
Brenda: "hey there honey. its mighty hot out. Do you need a ride? where ya going?"
Brantley: "i dont really have a destination. i'm just out here seeing the country, but i'd love a ride. it doesnt matter where to."
Brenda picked Brantley up and road on down the highway.
As Brenda and Brantley flew down the highway, she began to talk a mile a minute. She told Brantley about her kids and how they liked to meet new and interesting people."
Brantley didnt say much. He didnt really get a chance to add much to the dialogue of the conversation.
Brenda veered off the highway and onto a poorly paved tar and gravel road that soon turned into a dirt path, obviously traveled by only a few cars. Dust rose high in the distance as they speed forth. They stopped at a little makeshift trailer house along the way. The home was a converted trailer with a newly modified roof and a what appeared to be an added on den.
Brenda: "this is my home. come in and meet my family. we'll get ya something to eat if you like. you can sit a spell and then be on your way. i gotta head back to town in an hour and i'll take you back to the highway."
Brantley walked into the dimly lit home and found a seat on the worn out couch. It smelled of pet dander. Brenda went about her business and her kids and pets all peaked in to see this traveler. Brenda had a four year old daughter that must have asked Brantley a thousand questions.
Brenda's younger boyfriend came home after about an hour. He threw open the screen door and skipped into the den. His name was Mike.
Mike: "WHERE'S THE HIPPIE?!!!!"
Mike almost leaped into Brantley's lap. Mikes erratic behavior definitely frightened Brantley a little.
Mike: "stay right here Hippie, i wanna show you something."
Mike ran off to the back bedroom. Brantley heard all kinds of shuffling and the sounds of throwing things about, then he heard what sounded like a shotgun being shucked.
Brenda was in the room with Mike. Brantley could scarcely make out what the couple was saying.
Brenda: "MIKE, NO! dont go and scare him."
That was all Brantley needed to hear. He slipped out the back door and jogged down the dirt road. Of course the 12 dogs laying in the shade of broken down cars got up and began following him and barking quite loudly.
Brantley wasnt sure where he'd go, but he knew he didnt want to stay one minute longer at the place he just left.
The road went no where. Brantley only had one choice really, he had to turn back around and go out the way he came. He sat down on a little rocky hilly spot along side the path and rested for about an hour, but he knew he had to get started soon because it was already late in the afternoon. Dusk was fast approaching.
A little later, as he walked back past Brenda's home he was a bit relieved to find that the cars were gone and no one appeared to be there. Almost back to the highway a truck pulled onto the dirt road. It was Mike and Brenda.
They came to a screeching stop and Mike hopped out.
Mike: "why'd you run off hippie?"
Brantley: "i dont know."
Mike: "course you do. youre a thief and you were looking for something to steal. good thing i came home hippie. no telling what you might've made off with. GET IN THE TRUCK."
Mike put his big hand on Brantley's shoulder and shoved him toward the truck. Brantley hesitated, but did get into Mike's truck. Brenda was giggling. Brantley was rather nervous.
Mike: " i was kidding around buddy. i didnt think you were a thief.
Mike passed a half smoked joint to Brantley as they drove back to Brenda's.
Brantley: "no thanks man. i'm cool."
Mike: "what? i thought all hippies smoked weed man."
Brantley: "i'm not really a hippie man. i just wanted to see the country."
Mike: "Brenda, can you believe you picked up a hippie that said no to weed?"
Back at Brenda's.
Mike: "look dude, i've got something i need you to help me do, then i'll take you where ever you want to go. heck, i'll go to."
end of installment number one....
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Brantley Sweats the Small Stuff, All the Stuff
installment number two:
Mike, Brenda and Brantley made it back to the trailer as the sun set behind the range of mountains to the east.
Brantley wondered what exactly what kind of help Mike was going to require of him to grant his freedom.
As they walked in the front door an older gentleman was sitting on the couch facing the television set. He was an indian chief in his early sixties. He never really had his own tribe to be chief over to speak of, but his father and grandfather and so on had been great men, all chiefs. And so was he.
His name was Chief Squinting Bear. His name fit him. (Why would i say that? he squinted as he watched the tube as David Justice swung and missed on a ball that was just a wee bit outside and he was not only a large man but a very hairy one to boot!)
As Mike and Brenda walked to the back room, Brantley sat on the couch next to Chief Squinting Bear. The Chief was watching the Atlanta Braves pound the Cincinnati Reds to the ground. "They have the best pitchers in all of baseball", said the Chief.
"Wow, they show the Braves out here in the West too, huh?" commented Brantley.
"You a friend of Mike's?", inquired the Chief.
"I wouldnt say that."
"No?" said the Chief.
"To be honest with you, Mike said I had to help him do something before he'd let me go."
"Why you no run away?"
"I tried."
"What does Mike want you should do to help him?"
"He still hasnt told me, but i have a bad feeling."
Mike re-entered the room. "i see you met my dad. he is going to watch you so you dont run off. i gotta check on something and i'll be back shortly" Mike growled.
"You're his dad?" Brantley asked the Chief.
"I adopted Mike when he was eleven. He needed someone. He had no one and he was this frightened child. When i brought him home, every noise made him jump. We gave him his own indian name, Scared Dog."
Brantley and the Chief talked on for quite some time. He was a Souix indian. His people were all but gone. Most of the time he felt lonely, but he was glad to make this new acquaintence.
Brantley explained to the Chief how and why he had traveled from where he began ending up here. The more he talked, the more the Chief asked.
The Chief didnt just asked questions, he talked about himself too. The Chief had converted to Christianity twelve years go. He spoke openly of how he made Jesus Christ his savior and how he still practiced many indian worship rituals. Instead of worshipping the eagle or the sun, he sought counsel from almighty God.
The Chief told Brantley that he had been planning on leaving for a few hourswhen he and Mike had arrived earlier. He asked Brantley to come with him. It was dark out. Brantley couldnt see his hand in front of his face. he had no idea where the Chief wanted to go, heck he barely knew the Chief. Could he trust him? It didnt matter now though.
As they walked along the same trail that Brantley had run down earlier while attempting to flee from Mike, Brantley felt a calm wash over his body from his head to his toes. "Chief, i cant see where we are going."
"neither can i", said the Chief, "ha ha."
"The funny thing though Chief is that i dont care."
"you dont care or you arent scared?"
"i'm not really scared and i dont care, odd huh?"
"not so much, ive been praying for peace all day. Looks like it found us."
After they walked for what seemed like hours, they stopped at a fork in the beaten path next to a dried up creek bed. The Chief picked up two sticks and started tapping them together. "wooooo wooooo", cried the Chief.
Two more indian fellows stepped out of the darkness from behind a couple of small trees and advanced toward the pair. "Yah te hay", they exclaimed.
"Yah te hay", the Chief said.
"what does that mean and who are they?" Brantley whispered.
"These are my brother and it means greetings, both hello and goodbye.
They four of them exchanged hand shakes and they walked toward where several Teepees were set up. There was one smaller dome shaped tent out by itself.
"Brantley, i know why you are here, you seek answers. Much like many people fast to cleanse the body and put their spiritual needs before their physical needs, we will go into this sweat lodge to clean out the impurities and meet with the Great Spirit. He will give you answers so you can go home."
As Brantley reflected on how the past few days had turned out and where it could take him once Mike cashed in on that favor, he thought "what the heck."
"how long do we stay in the tent and sweat it out?", asked Brantley.
"As long as it takes", one of the indian brothers spouted.
"this could take a long time huh?"
"it should and probably will", said the Chief.
"Its kinda like getting in a sauna at the ymca", joked Brantley.
Very serious now, the Chief told Brantley "there are both spiritual and medicinal benefits to the sweat lodge. Its encourages camaraderie, sharing and growing together, but without a spiritual leader, its not an indian sweat."
"thats were you come in right?" asked Brantley.
"yes and do not think this is a coincidence that you are here. we have prepared for this day for two weeks although we didnt know you'd be here."
The domed tent sweat lodge was buried in three feet of creek sand. A blazing fire was roaring a few feet from the sweat tent and hot rocks were shoveled into the tent while the four of them sat covered by a sacred indian garment that covered them as only some kind of loin clothe could.
One of the men poured some kind of brew over the stones. The sound of steaming hisses and spattering filled the darkness and they all began praying. All of them except Brantley, he just listened. This praying was different from any praying he had heard before, these people just talked and invited the Great Spirit to make habitation with them. There was nothing formal about their prayers as they chanted.
"Who is this Great Spirit?" Brantley whispered.
"The Spirit of the Lord as referred in the Bible, friend. Holy Ghost, Holy Spirit, Great Spirit. We seek his counsel in our lives. Brantley, you dont have to say a word, but focus on the silence and listen to what God might say to you."
The chanting of prayers grew more and more intense and the men began singing. They sang and they sang. When one of them became too hot, he went outside. There was a stream on the other side of the tents parallel to the dried creek bed. They would dive into the stream and cool off and return to the sweat tent for more.
Brantley had never been one hundred percent sure that there was even a god, but he decided he would give it a try. It sounded cool. He earnestly tried to seek counsel. He prayed. The Chief would encourage Brantley from time to time. "be honest with God, Brantley. He knows already. He just wants you to become free from former entanglements. talk to him. tell him what you think, confess whatever is on your heart."
Brantley tried it with a sincere heart. He sat. He reflected on his life and he simply talked outloud. If there was a god, he'd hear this.
The Chief sang a new song, "You see the depths of our hearts and You love us the same. You are amazing God. Your creation reveals your majesty. every creature is unique in the song that it sings. You placed the stars in the sky and named each one. Who has told every lightning bolt where to go? You are indescribable and uncontainable, all powerful, untameable. Awestruck, we fall to our knees as we bodly proclaim, You are amazing God."
As Brantley focused on the words the Chief sang, he began to sing along. The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on their ends. He felt faint, just a little bit dizzy and he envisioned......
next - installment number three
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Brantley’s Vision
Brantley's vision or dream was about himself as an engineer on a train. This dream was unlike any other he had every had. It might not have had more significance than any other, but the detail was so vivid that he was sure he was on that train.
Brantley and R.Wilde of all people were riding in the locomotive looking out as they entered a new town. It wasnt a big town by any stretch of the imagination, but it seemed very important, a gateway to someplace more necessary maybe; the only way to the destination perhaps.
Several trains were on intersecting tracks that eventually all ran parallel to the track Brantely's train traveled as they sped toward a not too distant mountain on up ahead. They could see that the tracks on this mountain had to be at a 70 degree incline. Impossible, the thing dreams are made of. No track could be that steep. It would prove to be an incredibly daunting task to traverse that rise.
As the trains came together, all the tracks merged. The tracks were elevated on a dirt mound raising them high above the flood plain; the way became narrow. The distance on the left side of the tracks was equal to the width of the train plus a foot or two.
Brantley and Wilde looked down and stared as the ground rushed past. The gravels between the timbers under the tracks got higher and higher filling the tracks to the brim. Strange. The train then, for whatever reason derailed.
Not sure how one would even begin to steer a train, Brantley did everything in his power to correct the path of the train and get it back on track. It began losing speed but never actually wrecked when it derailed, although the two were in great fear that it would.
Brantely got the train back on tracks just as another train came speeding past on the left. It had derailed as well and it crashed down the side of the elevated path and into a deep ravine.
Up the steep mountain the train traveled. The speed had declined greatly and the train never made it completely up the mountain. Most of the cars did get to the top as three quarters of the train leveled out and came to a halt. Brantley noticed that it was still not completly on track and called for some help.
As the vision or dream or whatever it was faded, Brantley saw the Chief. There were three of him and they were all spinning. Brantley had become severely dehydrated while sweating it out in the tent. The Chief called it purification.
The Chief and Brantley left the tent, drank plenty of water and slept the rest of the day. As they hiked back to trailer, they noticed the sheriff was parked out front.
The sheriff met them and explained why he was there and what had happened. That favor that Mike had planned for Brantley had gone array. Mike had apparently lost patience waiting on Brantley and decided he didnt need help for his plan. He and Brenda had attempted a heist at the local hayseed farmers and merchants bank down the way. Unfortunately for Mike, there was a trigger happy teller there to meet him. Brenda was being held in custody until her trial.
The sheriff drove off a few minutes later, while Brantley stood there speechless, the Chief begain to talk.
Chief: "i didnt get a chance to tell you Brantley, but i had a vision too. I saw Mike in a funeral parlor all laid out there in his Sunday best, but there were no mourners there wailing, not a soul ceptin me."
The Chief turned and walked inside the trailer. Brantley obviously didnt know what to say so he decided the lest he could do was to stay a spell and make sure the Chief was ok. Mike had been his son for pete's sake.
Brantley was beginning to get the itch. He needed to get away....for good.
Brantley didnt see the Chief much for the next four days, but the trailer reeked of whiskey and urine. Brantley found things outside to keep him busy. He began to tinker around with that old fifties model ford pickup sitting behind the trailer. It appeared to be useless except for the shade it provided to the mangy dogs that hung around.
On that fourth day as Brantley was knee deep in the hood of that old truck, the Chief came out and whistled at Brantley.
Chief: "come on, i want you to go with me someplace."
They climbed in the Chief's car and as they rode down the highway the Chief explained to Brantley that he owned a string of self serve car wash shops in the greater area. They had to make a few stops, check the suds, and make a deposit. He also told Brantley that he had been a fall down drunk, an embarrassment to his people for almost 13 years now to the day his wife had passed away. Brantley didnt know the Chief had been married.
The Chief had been having lots of visions as of late. He was scared he was running out of time. He wept for not being able to save Mike from his own destructive nature. His visions were about judgement to come.
Chief: "i know i sound crazy, but what if any of its true. i met an old preacher man few years back; we have coffee a couple times a week. He claims to be a man who works in prophecy like Jeremiah or Isaiah. A gifting he calls it. He claims to have seen visions of the calamity already passed. Says he can prove it. There are bunch of men like him and they are predicting some awful things to come."
Brantley didnt interupt, he just kept listening.
Chief: "Brantley, normally i wouldnt so much as balk at the notion of all this, but i've been dreaming lots of dreams. I had a dream that someone called the home phone screaming for help. When i asked what kind of help, they replied to hurry up, the antichrist is coming quickly, hurry, help."
Brantley thought of his own dream that was so real and still fresh on his mind. what did it mean? getting off track? needing to call for help? he pondered on a bit and still, he listened intently to the Chief.
Chief: "and Brantley, you gotta know, i am telling the truth just as sure as i am a standing here next to ya. I saw Mike laid up in that parlor just as sure as shooting. I dont know what to do next. oh, if you coulda seen him lying there, if you hada heard that woman screaming on the phone Brantley."
Brantley had chill bumps come up on his neck. he wasnt sure what to make of all this yet. Maybe it'd come to him. Maybe he'd just leave......
Brantley - On The Road
Brantley had divided most of his young adult life roaming around the vast American landscape and life at home with his friends. Faced with a changing post war modern world, he sought to find his place, but eventually came to reject alot of the social norms. His heart's music often reflected a desire to break free from society's structure and to find a higher meaning to life.
This search led Brantley to experiment with different things that shall remain undisclosed and to embark on trips around the world. His favorite mode of travel was by train. He always fancied hoping in a box car and riding the rails, but sometimes he did pay for a ticket. His travels took him many places and he gathered many fascinating stories.
One such story found our dear Brantley walking down what must have felt like an endless highway. As he approached what appeared to be a ghost town of sorts in a western state that didnt matter, Brantley began to notice snakes laying all over the road.
Terrified of snakes, Brantley studied the situation for a short time and even tossed a few rocks toward the general vicinity of the aforementioned snakes. They remained undisturbed. They were soaking up the sun and didnt care one way or the other about a passer-by. Brantley continued his journey, hopping over the snakes one by one.
He had not traveled far past the snakes. The town was in the distance, probably a good mile away and Brantley noticed a single car traversing toward him. Its not a big deal to see a lone car passing down the highway, but this car had its headlights on and then strobes mounted on the roof of the car began to flicker blue.
The police officer stopped the car beside Brantley and began to question what Brantley was doing walking. Brantley told the officer of his intentions and the officer cut him off.
Officer: "I'll tell you what you do, son. What you do is this, turn around and keep walking in the other direction. We dont need people like you coming around here starting trouble."
Brantley began to lose heart.
Brantley: "Sir, I dont want any trouble but i figured i go into town and at least get some food and definitely refill my water pouch."
Officer: "thats a big negative boy. Nothing to eat here, go back the other way."
So Brantley had no other options. He turned back around and hadnt gotten very far when another car slowed down beside him. It was a kindly lady in her mid forties named Brenda.
Brenda: "hey there honey. its mighty hot out. Do you need a ride? where ya going?"
Brantley: "i dont really have a destination. i'm just out here seeing the country, but i'd love a ride. it doesnt matter where to."
Brenda picked Brantley up and road on down the highway.
As Brenda and Brantley flew down the highway, she began to talk a mile a minute. She told Brantley about her kids and how they liked to meet new and interesting people."
Brantley didnt say much. He didnt really get a chance to add much to the dialogue of the conversation.
Brenda veered off the highway and onto a poorly paved tar and gravel road that soon turned into a dirt path, obviously traveled by only a few cars. Dust rose high in the distance as they speed forth. They stopped at a little makeshift trailer house along the way. The home was a converted trailer with a newly modified roof and a what appeared to be an added on den.
Brenda: "this is my home. come in and meet my family. we'll get ya something to eat if you like. you can sit a spell and then be on your way. i gotta head back to town in an hour and i'll take you back to the highway."
Brantley walked into the dimly lit home and found a seat on the worn out couch. It smelled of pet dander. Brenda went about her business and her kids and pets all peaked in to see this traveler. Brenda had a four year old daughter that must have asked Brantley a thousand questions.
Brenda's younger boyfriend came home after about an hour. He threw open the screen door and skipped into the den. His name was Mike.
Mike: "WHERE'S THE HIPPIE?!!!!"
Mike almost leaped into Brantley's lap. Mikes erratic behavior definitely frightened Brantley a little.
Mike: "stay right here Hippie, i wanna show you something."
Mike ran off to the back bedroom. Brantley heard all kinds of shuffling and the sounds of throwing things about, then he heard what sounded like a shotgun being shucked.
Brenda was in the room with Mike. Brantley could scarcely make out what the couple was saying.
Brenda: "MIKE, NO! dont go and scare him."
That was all Brantley needed to hear. He slipped out the back door and jogged down the dirt road. Of course the 12 dogs laying in the shade of broken down cars got up and began following him and barking quite loudly.
Brantley wasnt sure where he'd go, but he knew he didnt want to stay one minute longer at the place he just left.
The road went no where. Brantley only had one choice really, he had to turn back around and go out the way he came. He sat down on a little rocky hilly spot along side the path and rested for about an hour, but he knew he had to get started soon because it was already late in the afternoon. Dusk was fast approaching.
A little later, as he walked back past Brenda's home he was a bit relieved to find that the cars were gone and no one appeared to be there. Almost back to the highway a truck pulled onto the dirt road. It was Mike and Brenda.
They came to a screeching stop and Mike hopped out.
Mike: "why'd you run off hippie?"
Brantley: "i dont know."
Mike: "course you do. youre a thief and you were looking for something to steal. good thing i came home hippie. no telling what you might've made off with. GET IN THE TRUCK."
Mike put his big hand on Brantley's shoulder and shoved him toward the truck. Brantley hesitated, but did get into Mike's truck. Brenda was giggling. Brantley was rather nervous.
Mike: " i was kidding around buddy. i didnt think you were a thief.
Mike passed a half smoked joint to Brantley as they drove back to Brenda's.
Brantley: "no thanks man. i'm cool."
Mike: "what? i thought all hippies smoked weed man."
Brantley: "i'm not really a hippie man. i just wanted to see the country."
Mike: "Brenda, can you believe you picked up a hippie that said no to weed?"
Back at Brenda's.
Mike: "look dude, i've got something i need you to help me do, then i'll take you where ever you want to go. heck, i'll go to."
end of installment number one....
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Brantley Sweats the Small Stuff, All the Stuff
installment number two:
Mike, Brenda and Brantley made it back to the trailer as the sun set behind the range of mountains to the east.
Brantley wondered what exactly what kind of help Mike was going to require of him to grant his freedom.
As they walked in the front door an older gentleman was sitting on the couch facing the television set. He was an indian chief in his early sixties. He never really had his own tribe to be chief over to speak of, but his father and grandfather and so on had been great men, all chiefs. And so was he.
His name was Chief Squinting Bear. His name fit him. (Why would i say that? he squinted as he watched the tube as David Justice swung and missed on a ball that was just a wee bit outside and he was not only a large man but a very hairy one to boot!)
As Mike and Brenda walked to the back room, Brantley sat on the couch next to Chief Squinting Bear. The Chief was watching the Atlanta Braves pound the Cincinnati Reds to the ground. "They have the best pitchers in all of baseball", said the Chief.
"Wow, they show the Braves out here in the West too, huh?" commented Brantley.
"You a friend of Mike's?", inquired the Chief.
"I wouldnt say that."
"No?" said the Chief.
"To be honest with you, Mike said I had to help him do something before he'd let me go."
"Why you no run away?"
"I tried."
"What does Mike want you should do to help him?"
"He still hasnt told me, but i have a bad feeling."
Mike re-entered the room. "i see you met my dad. he is going to watch you so you dont run off. i gotta check on something and i'll be back shortly" Mike growled.
"You're his dad?" Brantley asked the Chief.
"I adopted Mike when he was eleven. He needed someone. He had no one and he was this frightened child. When i brought him home, every noise made him jump. We gave him his own indian name, Scared Dog."
Brantley and the Chief talked on for quite some time. He was a Souix indian. His people were all but gone. Most of the time he felt lonely, but he was glad to make this new acquaintence.
Brantley explained to the Chief how and why he had traveled from where he began ending up here. The more he talked, the more the Chief asked.
The Chief didnt just asked questions, he talked about himself too. The Chief had converted to Christianity twelve years go. He spoke openly of how he made Jesus Christ his savior and how he still practiced many indian worship rituals. Instead of worshipping the eagle or the sun, he sought counsel from almighty God.
The Chief told Brantley that he had been planning on leaving for a few hourswhen he and Mike had arrived earlier. He asked Brantley to come with him. It was dark out. Brantley couldnt see his hand in front of his face. he had no idea where the Chief wanted to go, heck he barely knew the Chief. Could he trust him? It didnt matter now though.
As they walked along the same trail that Brantley had run down earlier while attempting to flee from Mike, Brantley felt a calm wash over his body from his head to his toes. "Chief, i cant see where we are going."
"neither can i", said the Chief, "ha ha."
"The funny thing though Chief is that i dont care."
"you dont care or you arent scared?"
"i'm not really scared and i dont care, odd huh?"
"not so much, ive been praying for peace all day. Looks like it found us."
After they walked for what seemed like hours, they stopped at a fork in the beaten path next to a dried up creek bed. The Chief picked up two sticks and started tapping them together. "wooooo wooooo", cried the Chief.
Two more indian fellows stepped out of the darkness from behind a couple of small trees and advanced toward the pair. "Yah te hay", they exclaimed.
"Yah te hay", the Chief said.
"what does that mean and who are they?" Brantley whispered.
"These are my brother and it means greetings, both hello and goodbye.
They four of them exchanged hand shakes and they walked toward where several Teepees were set up. There was one smaller dome shaped tent out by itself.
"Brantley, i know why you are here, you seek answers. Much like many people fast to cleanse the body and put their spiritual needs before their physical needs, we will go into this sweat lodge to clean out the impurities and meet with the Great Spirit. He will give you answers so you can go home."
As Brantley reflected on how the past few days had turned out and where it could take him once Mike cashed in on that favor, he thought "what the heck."
"how long do we stay in the tent and sweat it out?", asked Brantley.
"As long as it takes", one of the indian brothers spouted.
"this could take a long time huh?"
"it should and probably will", said the Chief.
"Its kinda like getting in a sauna at the ymca", joked Brantley.
Very serious now, the Chief told Brantley "there are both spiritual and medicinal benefits to the sweat lodge. Its encourages camaraderie, sharing and growing together, but without a spiritual leader, its not an indian sweat."
"thats were you come in right?" asked Brantley.
"yes and do not think this is a coincidence that you are here. we have prepared for this day for two weeks although we didnt know you'd be here."
The domed tent sweat lodge was buried in three feet of creek sand. A blazing fire was roaring a few feet from the sweat tent and hot rocks were shoveled into the tent while the four of them sat covered by a sacred indian garment that covered them as only some kind of loin clothe could.
One of the men poured some kind of brew over the stones. The sound of steaming hisses and spattering filled the darkness and they all began praying. All of them except Brantley, he just listened. This praying was different from any praying he had heard before, these people just talked and invited the Great Spirit to make habitation with them. There was nothing formal about their prayers as they chanted.
"Who is this Great Spirit?" Brantley whispered.
"The Spirit of the Lord as referred in the Bible, friend. Holy Ghost, Holy Spirit, Great Spirit. We seek his counsel in our lives. Brantley, you dont have to say a word, but focus on the silence and listen to what God might say to you."
The chanting of prayers grew more and more intense and the men began singing. They sang and they sang. When one of them became too hot, he went outside. There was a stream on the other side of the tents parallel to the dried creek bed. They would dive into the stream and cool off and return to the sweat tent for more.
Brantley had never been one hundred percent sure that there was even a god, but he decided he would give it a try. It sounded cool. He earnestly tried to seek counsel. He prayed. The Chief would encourage Brantley from time to time. "be honest with God, Brantley. He knows already. He just wants you to become free from former entanglements. talk to him. tell him what you think, confess whatever is on your heart."
Brantley tried it with a sincere heart. He sat. He reflected on his life and he simply talked outloud. If there was a god, he'd hear this.
The Chief sang a new song, "You see the depths of our hearts and You love us the same. You are amazing God. Your creation reveals your majesty. every creature is unique in the song that it sings. You placed the stars in the sky and named each one. Who has told every lightning bolt where to go? You are indescribable and uncontainable, all powerful, untameable. Awestruck, we fall to our knees as we bodly proclaim, You are amazing God."
As Brantley focused on the words the Chief sang, he began to sing along. The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on their ends. He felt faint, just a little bit dizzy and he envisioned......
next - installment number three
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Brantley’s Vision
Brantley's vision or dream was about himself as an engineer on a train. This dream was unlike any other he had every had. It might not have had more significance than any other, but the detail was so vivid that he was sure he was on that train.
Brantley and R.Wilde of all people were riding in the locomotive looking out as they entered a new town. It wasnt a big town by any stretch of the imagination, but it seemed very important, a gateway to someplace more necessary maybe; the only way to the destination perhaps.
Several trains were on intersecting tracks that eventually all ran parallel to the track Brantely's train traveled as they sped toward a not too distant mountain on up ahead. They could see that the tracks on this mountain had to be at a 70 degree incline. Impossible, the thing dreams are made of. No track could be that steep. It would prove to be an incredibly daunting task to traverse that rise.
As the trains came together, all the tracks merged. The tracks were elevated on a dirt mound raising them high above the flood plain; the way became narrow. The distance on the left side of the tracks was equal to the width of the train plus a foot or two.
Brantley and Wilde looked down and stared as the ground rushed past. The gravels between the timbers under the tracks got higher and higher filling the tracks to the brim. Strange. The train then, for whatever reason derailed.
Not sure how one would even begin to steer a train, Brantley did everything in his power to correct the path of the train and get it back on track. It began losing speed but never actually wrecked when it derailed, although the two were in great fear that it would.
Brantely got the train back on tracks just as another train came speeding past on the left. It had derailed as well and it crashed down the side of the elevated path and into a deep ravine.
Up the steep mountain the train traveled. The speed had declined greatly and the train never made it completely up the mountain. Most of the cars did get to the top as three quarters of the train leveled out and came to a halt. Brantley noticed that it was still not completly on track and called for some help.
As the vision or dream or whatever it was faded, Brantley saw the Chief. There were three of him and they were all spinning. Brantley had become severely dehydrated while sweating it out in the tent. The Chief called it purification.
The Chief and Brantley left the tent, drank plenty of water and slept the rest of the day. As they hiked back to trailer, they noticed the sheriff was parked out front.
The sheriff met them and explained why he was there and what had happened. That favor that Mike had planned for Brantley had gone array. Mike had apparently lost patience waiting on Brantley and decided he didnt need help for his plan. He and Brenda had attempted a heist at the local hayseed farmers and merchants bank down the way. Unfortunately for Mike, there was a trigger happy teller there to meet him. Brenda was being held in custody until her trial.
The sheriff drove off a few minutes later, while Brantley stood there speechless, the Chief begain to talk.
Chief: "i didnt get a chance to tell you Brantley, but i had a vision too. I saw Mike in a funeral parlor all laid out there in his Sunday best, but there were no mourners there wailing, not a soul ceptin me."
The Chief turned and walked inside the trailer. Brantley obviously didnt know what to say so he decided the lest he could do was to stay a spell and make sure the Chief was ok. Mike had been his son for pete's sake.
Brantley was beginning to get the itch. He needed to get away....for good.
Brantley didnt see the Chief much for the next four days, but the trailer reeked of whiskey and urine. Brantley found things outside to keep him busy. He began to tinker around with that old fifties model ford pickup sitting behind the trailer. It appeared to be useless except for the shade it provided to the mangy dogs that hung around.
On that fourth day as Brantley was knee deep in the hood of that old truck, the Chief came out and whistled at Brantley.
Chief: "come on, i want you to go with me someplace."
They climbed in the Chief's car and as they rode down the highway the Chief explained to Brantley that he owned a string of self serve car wash shops in the greater area. They had to make a few stops, check the suds, and make a deposit. He also told Brantley that he had been a fall down drunk, an embarrassment to his people for almost 13 years now to the day his wife had passed away. Brantley didnt know the Chief had been married.
The Chief had been having lots of visions as of late. He was scared he was running out of time. He wept for not being able to save Mike from his own destructive nature. His visions were about judgement to come.
Chief: "i know i sound crazy, but what if any of its true. i met an old preacher man few years back; we have coffee a couple times a week. He claims to be a man who works in prophecy like Jeremiah or Isaiah. A gifting he calls it. He claims to have seen visions of the calamity already passed. Says he can prove it. There are bunch of men like him and they are predicting some awful things to come."
Brantley didnt interupt, he just kept listening.
Chief: "Brantley, normally i wouldnt so much as balk at the notion of all this, but i've been dreaming lots of dreams. I had a dream that someone called the home phone screaming for help. When i asked what kind of help, they replied to hurry up, the antichrist is coming quickly, hurry, help."
Brantley thought of his own dream that was so real and still fresh on his mind. what did it mean? getting off track? needing to call for help? he pondered on a bit and still, he listened intently to the Chief.
Chief: "and Brantley, you gotta know, i am telling the truth just as sure as i am a standing here next to ya. I saw Mike laid up in that parlor just as sure as shooting. I dont know what to do next. oh, if you coulda seen him lying there, if you hada heard that woman screaming on the phone Brantley."
Brantley had chill bumps come up on his neck. he wasnt sure what to make of all this yet. Maybe it'd come to him. Maybe he'd just leave......
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