One of our company cafeteria cashiers is a middle-aged, southern, red-headed, and fiery yet pleasant woman named Rosie. She's nice to everyone that comes through her line.
Up until very recently, we had a self-serve salad and fruit bar. Take what you want, and pay by the ounce (kind of how drugs are sold in East Nashville). If you could guess the exact price of what you chose, you got it free. Not a penny over or under - no accounting for relative humidity or sytrofoam density variability.
I used to go 3 days a week to buy strawberries, blueberries, and cantaloupe for breakfast. While I enjoyed the food, I hated the game. Lots of employees loved the game. It was like their little prudish version of Vegas roulette. Me? I just wanted to get my breakfast, pay Rosie, and walk back to my desk for my first cup of morning coffee.
But sweet Rosie wouldn't have any of it. She'd beg me to play the game. Wanna guess? No ma'am. Aww, c'mon - just take a guess. So to humor her, I'd take a slug at it each time.
Monday: $2.57. No, sorry. Its $3.21.
Wednesday: $3.14. No, sorry. Its $2.87 today.
Thursday: $3.03. Oh so close. But its $3.07.
After a few weeks of this nonsense and zero wins, I thought I'd have some fun with it by bringing my own variable of nonsense.
Monday
Rosie: Got a guess today?
TMC: 18,000 dollars
Rosie: What? Laughs. No, really what's your guess.
Wednesday
Rosie: Got a guess today?
TMC: 17.76
Rosie: *Muffled dismissive chortle* No, $2.98.
Thursday
Rosie: And?
TMC: 21.12
Rosie: Silence. Glare. Takes my money.
Three days. That's all it took to destroy her niceness towards me. This whole exchange was about 18 months ago. Ever since - including today at lunch - she snubs me. Oh, she'll take my money. But its all professional with her now. She'll chitter-chatter with other customers. But with me, nada.
I didn't intend for it to go this direction. I was just trying to have a bit of cynical, playful fun. I'm not sure she even knows why she doesn't like me anymore. And now with this much time having passed, I don't know how to make amends. The cafeteria has since replaced the pay-by-the-ounce scheme with a checklist/fixed price menu. The days of guessing and winning free meals is over.
However, this is the cross I must now bear. I sheepishly go through her line and take my flogging of limited interactive communication.
Rosie, I'm sorry. If it'll make it all better, I guess $3.17.
TMC
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Friday night comforts
After a tough week of funeral traveling, I was ready to put this week behind me. We were invited to dinner by our neighbors a couple of houses down. Their son and our son are best friends. We've visited often, gone out to dinner a handful of times, trade-off taking each other's kid to the pool, scouts, school activities, etc. But we've never really gotten to know them much beyond that.
We were invited along with a few other folks to sit on the deck, eat grilled ribs, that ambrosia fruit salad stuff, tomato and mozzarella salad, cheesecake, etc. Also margaritas, wine, and brew were provided. Ummm-hmmm.
After quaffing a couple of after-work Dos Perros from Nashville's Yazoo Brewing, I was willing to experiment with something different. I tried Pilsner Urquell from the Czech Republic for the first time. Good stuff.
One by one, the others left until it was just our two neighbors, my wife, and me. The night air was fantastic with a nice breeze, lightning bugs were plentiful, and beer remained. I was then offered an Italian beer, Birra Moretti. Mamma Mia, it was a good and tasty brew. Capiche?
The four of us don't have a whole lot in common beyond having sons as best friends and living on the same street. My wife stays at home and runs Mom's Taxi Service for our two. I work in a corporate office setting, roll pretty conservative, and dig NASCAR and Americana music. Our neighbors are both chemistry professors - one at a state university and the other at Vanderbilt. They list pretty significantly to the political left. Her van may be the only one in our subdivision sporting an Obama sticker. But hey - we all have to get along, right?
Because the evening was ultra low-key, I wore a pair of flip-flops, a pair of shorts, and my John Prine concert tee. Once other conversations ended, my neighbor said she didn't know I was a Prine fan and that she'd been a fan of his for years. We talked lyrics, his early job as a postman, his getting discovered by Kristofferson, her meeting him in a Nashville book store, the recent show at the Ryman, etc.
Her husband then asked me if I knew who Townes van Zandt was. I responded with an "absolutely!" He then told me a story of his meeting Townes and having a meal with him years ago via a friend. When he met him, Townes introduced himself simply as "Hi, I'm Townes." He said his friend whispered that it was THE Townes van Zandt. I laughed when my neighbor said he thought to himself at the time "So? Who the hell is Townes van Zandt?"
We then discussed how Townes really never promoted himself in his time. He's one of those artists whose fame seemingly came largely after death than during life. They didn't know Townes once lived in Franklin, TN for a while. I told them the story of Joe Ely picking up Townes as a Texas hitchhiker and getting one of his LPs from him (an armload of albums was the only possession he was carrying). We debated on how great a songwriter he was - as measured back in the day and as compared against today's songwriters. And we talked about his decline, hip surgery, and eventual death on New Year's Day 1997.
Talk about Townes and Prine then led rapid-fire to Dylan, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, and Luke the Drifter. Before we could go far with those discussions, my wife not-so-subtly gave me the throat-slash sign. Cut it off - its getting late - time to go.
But it was definitely an enjoyable Tennessee summer evening. Got to know the neighbors a bit better. Sampled two beers that were new to me. Agreed to share some TVZ boots with them. And my week ended on a far better chord than the minor one in which it began.
TMC
We were invited along with a few other folks to sit on the deck, eat grilled ribs, that ambrosia fruit salad stuff, tomato and mozzarella salad, cheesecake, etc. Also margaritas, wine, and brew were provided. Ummm-hmmm.
After quaffing a couple of after-work Dos Perros from Nashville's Yazoo Brewing, I was willing to experiment with something different. I tried Pilsner Urquell from the Czech Republic for the first time. Good stuff.
One by one, the others left until it was just our two neighbors, my wife, and me. The night air was fantastic with a nice breeze, lightning bugs were plentiful, and beer remained. I was then offered an Italian beer, Birra Moretti. Mamma Mia, it was a good and tasty brew. Capiche?
The four of us don't have a whole lot in common beyond having sons as best friends and living on the same street. My wife stays at home and runs Mom's Taxi Service for our two. I work in a corporate office setting, roll pretty conservative, and dig NASCAR and Americana music. Our neighbors are both chemistry professors - one at a state university and the other at Vanderbilt. They list pretty significantly to the political left. Her van may be the only one in our subdivision sporting an Obama sticker. But hey - we all have to get along, right?Because the evening was ultra low-key, I wore a pair of flip-flops, a pair of shorts, and my John Prine concert tee. Once other conversations ended, my neighbor said she didn't know I was a Prine fan and that she'd been a fan of his for years. We talked lyrics, his early job as a postman, his getting discovered by Kristofferson, her meeting him in a Nashville book store, the recent show at the Ryman, etc.
Her husband then asked me if I knew who Townes van Zandt was. I responded with an "absolutely!" He then told me a story of his meeting Townes and having a meal with him years ago via a friend. When he met him, Townes introduced himself simply as "Hi, I'm Townes." He said his friend whispered that it was THE Townes van Zandt. I laughed when my neighbor said he thought to himself at the time "So? Who the hell is Townes van Zandt?"
We then discussed how Townes really never promoted himself in his time. He's one of those artists whose fame seemingly came largely after death than during life. They didn't know Townes once lived in Franklin, TN for a while. I told them the story of Joe Ely picking up Townes as a Texas hitchhiker and getting one of his LPs from him (an armload of albums was the only possession he was carrying). We debated on how great a songwriter he was - as measured back in the day and as compared against today's songwriters. And we talked about his decline, hip surgery, and eventual death on New Year's Day 1997.
Talk about Townes and Prine then led rapid-fire to Dylan, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, and Luke the Drifter. Before we could go far with those discussions, my wife not-so-subtly gave me the throat-slash sign. Cut it off - its getting late - time to go.
But it was definitely an enjoyable Tennessee summer evening. Got to know the neighbors a bit better. Sampled two beers that were new to me. Agreed to share some TVZ boots with them. And my week ended on a far better chord than the minor one in which it began.
TMC
Thursday, June 3, 2010
R.I.P. Uncle Earl
Well, its over. Just like that. The uncle I've blogged about a couple of times is no more. We got the call at my parents' house this morning about 6:30 AM. Apparently, he slipped away peacefully with his wife by his side.
I was at my parents' house to take them and another of my uncles to the Nashville airport for a two-day visit to Jacksonville, FL to visit with him. The news since my visit there a couple of weeks ago had all been positive. His stamina had improved, his dependence on heavy oxygen had decreased, his voice was stronger, and he had been enjoyed additional visitors.
My mother/his sister couldn't wait to get there to see him. She's been so anxious to make the journey. My dad, however, physically couldn't do it. He recently had hip replacement surgery, and he needed a good bit of rehab before making the trip.
Against his doctor's recommendation, my dad said "I'm going." So I booked them a flight on Southwest, and they were packed and raring to go this morning.
We were literally 5 minutes away from getting in the car and my driving them to the airport. Then the call came. Immediately both my parents became obviously distraught - both at his death and the fact they didn't make it there in time. The second part hurt me more so than the expected first part.
My dad started with a round of What Ifs. What if my mother had gone to Jax without him? What if they had flown 2 days ago? What if he had postponed the surgery another six months? I'll certainly never be mistaken for a grief counselor, but I tried to assure him the What Ifs weren't necessary. Things happen for a reason - and oftentimes for reasons we'll likely never understand while on this earth.
So now, its time for next steps. I've got to get funeral flights booked, pack a suit to wear in the Florida summer sun, and acting like an adult the next few days by being attuned to the needs of my mother and my aunt.
Over Memorial Day weekend, I went to the NASCAR races in Charlotte, NC. I was so grateful to my many friends for gathering for a Hey Earl! shout-out photo. I had hoped to get the picture to him to have a good laugh and let him know yet again how much we thought of him. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get the photo to him in time.
I've lost my uncle, my friend, my mentor, and my son's namesake. The world has lost a great man, and this nation has lost a great patriot. But heaven has gained a great soul.
R.I.P. Earl Taylor Leming: January 17, 1952 - June 3, 2010
TMC
I was at my parents' house to take them and another of my uncles to the Nashville airport for a two-day visit to Jacksonville, FL to visit with him. The news since my visit there a couple of weeks ago had all been positive. His stamina had improved, his dependence on heavy oxygen had decreased, his voice was stronger, and he had been enjoyed additional visitors.
My mother/his sister couldn't wait to get there to see him. She's been so anxious to make the journey. My dad, however, physically couldn't do it. He recently had hip replacement surgery, and he needed a good bit of rehab before making the trip.
Against his doctor's recommendation, my dad said "I'm going." So I booked them a flight on Southwest, and they were packed and raring to go this morning.
We were literally 5 minutes away from getting in the car and my driving them to the airport. Then the call came. Immediately both my parents became obviously distraught - both at his death and the fact they didn't make it there in time. The second part hurt me more so than the expected first part.
My dad started with a round of What Ifs. What if my mother had gone to Jax without him? What if they had flown 2 days ago? What if he had postponed the surgery another six months? I'll certainly never be mistaken for a grief counselor, but I tried to assure him the What Ifs weren't necessary. Things happen for a reason - and oftentimes for reasons we'll likely never understand while on this earth.
So now, its time for next steps. I've got to get funeral flights booked, pack a suit to wear in the Florida summer sun, and acting like an adult the next few days by being attuned to the needs of my mother and my aunt.
Over Memorial Day weekend, I went to the NASCAR races in Charlotte, NC. I was so grateful to my many friends for gathering for a Hey Earl! shout-out photo. I had hoped to get the picture to him to have a good laugh and let him know yet again how much we thought of him. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get the photo to him in time.
I've lost my uncle, my friend, my mentor, and my son's namesake. The world has lost a great man, and this nation has lost a great patriot. But heaven has gained a great soul.R.I.P. Earl Taylor Leming: January 17, 1952 - June 3, 2010
TMC
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
A visit worth taking
I made an impromptu trip to Florida to visit my uncle a week ago. As I mentioned about a month ago, he has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. While we thought - including him - that he likely had several months to enjoy life a bit, he took a turn for the worse two Thursdays ago. A serious infection in his lungs other than the cancer sent him for a loop, a trip to the ER, a multi-day stay at the hospital, and then a trip back home the day before I arrived.
From what I understand, it was "this close" to my packing a black suit vs. a pair of jeans. I wanted to say good-bye if that's the way the conversation broke. If not, we'd talk about whatever else happened to come up.
As it turns out, he improved ever so slightly so I could enjoy a meaningful - albeit brief - visit with him. I was on the ground a tick over 24 hours, and I got to spend about 90 minutes with him - 90 fantastic minutes. Some highlights for me included:
Its been a week since I was there. The great news is his voice and stamina are continuing to return. He's getting to the front of the house with a walker now vs. being pushed in a wheelchair. Other relatives have booked short trips to visit with him about like I did. And he's enjoying them.
At some point, the cancer is going to kick his ass - hard. But for now, the healing of the infection is allowing him to again to enjoy some meaningful time with friends and family.
TMC
From what I understand, it was "this close" to my packing a black suit vs. a pair of jeans. I wanted to say good-bye if that's the way the conversation broke. If not, we'd talk about whatever else happened to come up.
As it turns out, he improved ever so slightly so I could enjoy a meaningful - albeit brief - visit with him. I was on the ground a tick over 24 hours, and I got to spend about 90 minutes with him - 90 fantastic minutes. Some highlights for me included:
- I drank a couple of stray beers found in his refrigerator. Because I'm using humor as a way to avoid the realities of his situation, I told him I'd take care of his brew since he was in no condition to drink it himself.
- Nestled amongst the diversity of single beers was a Corona Light. Knowing his disdain for Corona, I removed it from the refrigerator, held it a moment, slowly turned around, and looked at him with a puzzled look. Despite his frailty and weak voice, he managed to utter through his oxygen mask: "Not mine! Brother-in-law's!" I couldn't help but laugh at his distancing himself from it.
- With his current condition and dependence on a continual, heavy flow of oxygen, he can't smoke, have a beer, down a shot, or even sip a cup of coffee. His only vice allowed right now is Diet Dr. Pepper - and its even a struggle to drink it and keep it on his stomach. One of his goals is to rebound well enough to walk to the end of the driveway to get the newspaper and steal a smoke on the way back to the front door.
- By mid-afternoon the day of my arrival, his voice had faded to a barely a whisper. He pointed to an empty can of Dr. Pepper which was my cue to get a fresh one. He took a small sip. Sure enough - not good. A coughing fit hit him. My aunt quickly wanted to make sure he was OK. After the coughing stopped and he had regained his composure a bit, she asked him very directly but lovingly: "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" With a voice as resonant as the Who's Yop heard by Horton, he managed to pipe up one word: WHISKEY! I couldn't help it and just started laughing.
- During my stay, he felt well enough to be brought twice from the back of the house to the front living room. This was a big accomplishment for him considering his condition during his 4-day hospital stay. He didn't stay long either time, but I think it was rewarding to him to "live" in his living room vs. being confined to his bedroom.
- As we sat near one another during his first visit, I ran out of things to talk about. We covered the Celtics playoff hopes, the Nashville floods, the Gulf oil problem, my upcoming visit to the NASCAR race in Charlotte Memorial Day weekend, my parents' health, etc. Most of those 'conversations' were one-sided as I started a subject, and he either nodded or offered an occasional syllable or two for his viewpoint. I was done - out of subjects. But as we sat a moment in silence and I stared at the wall a moment wondering where to go next, he cleared his throat and started to speak. He finally addressed the elephant in the room...
- He told me in a quiet voice yet one clear enough for me to hear that he was ready. He doesn't want to go, but he is ready when it happens. While looking directly at me, he said he'd had a great life and that he'd be selfish if he asked for more of it. The last line dropped me.
- I felt my eyes fill with tears and my throat tighten. Now I really wasn't sure how to continue. All I could get out was that I understood his opinion about not wanting to be selfish. But I also said I was selfish enough to ask for more time for him to be with us. After that, no more was said for the moment.
- Thursday mid-day, I was able to spend a few more minutes with him before heading for the airport. We watched a bit of CNN and ESPN. Finally he said he wanted to take a nap and thanked me for visiting. This was the moment I had to leave. Once again, I didn't know what to say. Good-bye seemed both cheap and final. So I opted for "We'll see ya later. How about we visit again in Tennessee?" He smiled, shook my hand, and said "in a month". If those words end up being the final exchange we have in this world, I'm OK with it.
Its been a week since I was there. The great news is his voice and stamina are continuing to return. He's getting to the front of the house with a walker now vs. being pushed in a wheelchair. Other relatives have booked short trips to visit with him about like I did. And he's enjoying them.
At some point, the cancer is going to kick his ass - hard. But for now, the healing of the infection is allowing him to again to enjoy some meaningful time with friends and family.
TMC
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Is God Speed Faster than Light?
Today, I again picked up on a phrase folks seem to use a lot: God speed. It was used in referencing the anniversary of the death of someone. Its not a new phrase. Its been used for as long as I can remember, and I'm sure I've used it myself on occasion.
But for the most part, I've quit saying it because I'm not really sure what it even means. God speed? What is that?
Searches at Dictionary.com, TheFreeDictionary.com, and even the always-accurate (wink, wink) Wikipedia weren't much help. Phrases such as the following were found:
If I really wanted to be a fundamental literalist about it, a pretty good case could be made "God speed" is an example of using the Lord's name in vain. It sounds like a more pleasant, well-intentioned phrase relative to the more repulsive GD. Yet if you invoke God's name but don't know its meaning, isn't that the ultimate "in vain"?
For the rest of us who remain, our lives on this earth do remain a bit of a lottery. So to each of you, I wish you God speed in living yours - well, all except the part about trying to find an out-of-print Leif Garrett LP.
TMC
But for the most part, I've quit saying it because I'm not really sure what it even means. God speed? What is that?
- Are folks saying the recently departed should hurry quickly to heaven? If so, shouldn't the phrase be Heaven Speed?
- Are folks telling God should speedily draw the soul to heaven? If so, is it our place to tell God what to do and when to do it?
- Are folks telling God to drive fast? If so, that's silly too. God doesn't have a car. And if he did, he certainly wouldn't have to worry about speed limits because he is God. What cop would write him a ticket?
Searches at Dictionary.com, TheFreeDictionary.com, and even the always-accurate (wink, wink) Wikipedia weren't much help. Phrases such as the following were found:
- an expression of one's good wishes for a person's success and safety
- success or good fortune.
- used as a wish to a person starting on a journey, a new venture, etc.
- a band featuring 1970's teen idol Leif Garrett (thanks Wikipedia for nothing)
If I really wanted to be a fundamental literalist about it, a pretty good case could be made "God speed" is an example of using the Lord's name in vain. It sounds like a more pleasant, well-intentioned phrase relative to the more repulsive GD. Yet if you invoke God's name but don't know its meaning, isn't that the ultimate "in vain"?
For the rest of us who remain, our lives on this earth do remain a bit of a lottery. So to each of you, I wish you God speed in living yours - well, all except the part about trying to find an out-of-print Leif Garrett LP.
TMC
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
The fragility of life
About two years ago, my uncle had what he thought was a raging case of hayfever, allergies, etc. Constantly coughing. Hoarseness. "Stuff" all in his nose and throat around the clock. He put up with it for months thinking some OTC med would eventually knock it out.
When nothing really helped, he finally relented and went to the doctor. Diagnosis? Cancer.
He was diagnosed with cancer of the epiglottis. Of call the places one can get cancer, I've never known anyone to get it there. Fortunately, the doctors were able to treat the area with heavy rounds of radiation. My uncle was zapped pretty much every week between September and December 2008. In January 2009, he was deemed cancer-free. The radiation was successful.
Or so we thought. Last Friday, April 16, I got the call. The cancer has returned. Its now in both lungs and in his brain. Worse yet, the oncologist said it was terminal.
They plan to give him a round of radiation on his brain beginning today (April 21, 2010) with the hopes of shrinking whatever lesions or tumors he's got up there. If he didn't undergo it, he was told he'd have about a month to live. If the radiation is successful in shrinking the tumors a bit and if some early rounds of chemo are effective, he's been told he may have up to 6 months. Depending on how he reacts to on-going chemo, he might have about a year - max.
He is my mother's younger brother. They have two older brothers. My two older uncles and mother are a good bit older than their younger sibling. While all have had their own health issues, all are still alive and in pretty good health all things considered. So its pretty stunning for everyone to see their kid brother who was a bit of a "surprise from heaven" to my grandparents likely being the first to go.
While I'm not happy with this turn of events, I've found myself pretty composed so far. He and I are really close. When he went through his radiation two years ago, my aunt asked for all of us to limit our phone calls to him. His throat was pretty raw, and his voice was weak. I respected her request and got my updates through her e-mails or via my mother. This time I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Everyone is going to want a few minutes, hours, or days to visit with him before he is gone, and my aunt clearly is going to want to maximize her time with her dying husband.
I visited him most recently in February when I was in town as part of a work trip. But that was just a normal visit. The game was different than it is now. Or is it? Is that altogether a bad thing if it turns out that was our last visit? We spent about 3 hours eating dinner, drinking a couple of beers, swapping stories, laughing, wringing our hands over certain political events, etc.
That's probably how I should act if I'm fortunate enough to visit with him again before he is gone. Would it do either of us any good to spend hours talking about cancer and death? I imagine he's going to have plenty of those conversations with other family members, friends, his wife, his docs, his minister, and himself.
Rather than dwell on his cancer, his treatments, or his looming death, I plan to think of as many ways he positively affected me as I can. Crying doesn't come easily to me. I'm not a songwriter, poet, or painter so crafting my inner thoughts into lyrics or a piece of canvas is out for me. So just ticking off fond memories is about the best avenue I've got to deal with it.
I can't possibly think of all of them now, but here is a starter list. Now way am I hustling him out of this world before his time, but I'm going to start blogging a few of these from time to time as they pop in my head.
But speaking of doughnuts and oysters, let's make it a baker's dozen.
When nothing really helped, he finally relented and went to the doctor. Diagnosis? Cancer.
He was diagnosed with cancer of the epiglottis. Of call the places one can get cancer, I've never known anyone to get it there. Fortunately, the doctors were able to treat the area with heavy rounds of radiation. My uncle was zapped pretty much every week between September and December 2008. In January 2009, he was deemed cancer-free. The radiation was successful.
Or so we thought. Last Friday, April 16, I got the call. The cancer has returned. Its now in both lungs and in his brain. Worse yet, the oncologist said it was terminal.
They plan to give him a round of radiation on his brain beginning today (April 21, 2010) with the hopes of shrinking whatever lesions or tumors he's got up there. If he didn't undergo it, he was told he'd have about a month to live. If the radiation is successful in shrinking the tumors a bit and if some early rounds of chemo are effective, he's been told he may have up to 6 months. Depending on how he reacts to on-going chemo, he might have about a year - max.
He is my mother's younger brother. They have two older brothers. My two older uncles and mother are a good bit older than their younger sibling. While all have had their own health issues, all are still alive and in pretty good health all things considered. So its pretty stunning for everyone to see their kid brother who was a bit of a "surprise from heaven" to my grandparents likely being the first to go.
While I'm not happy with this turn of events, I've found myself pretty composed so far. He and I are really close. When he went through his radiation two years ago, my aunt asked for all of us to limit our phone calls to him. His throat was pretty raw, and his voice was weak. I respected her request and got my updates through her e-mails or via my mother. This time I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Everyone is going to want a few minutes, hours, or days to visit with him before he is gone, and my aunt clearly is going to want to maximize her time with her dying husband.
I visited him most recently in February when I was in town as part of a work trip. But that was just a normal visit. The game was different than it is now. Or is it? Is that altogether a bad thing if it turns out that was our last visit? We spent about 3 hours eating dinner, drinking a couple of beers, swapping stories, laughing, wringing our hands over certain political events, etc.
That's probably how I should act if I'm fortunate enough to visit with him again before he is gone. Would it do either of us any good to spend hours talking about cancer and death? I imagine he's going to have plenty of those conversations with other family members, friends, his wife, his docs, his minister, and himself.
Rather than dwell on his cancer, his treatments, or his looming death, I plan to think of as many ways he positively affected me as I can. Crying doesn't come easily to me. I'm not a songwriter, poet, or painter so crafting my inner thoughts into lyrics or a piece of canvas is out for me. So just ticking off fond memories is about the best avenue I've got to deal with it.
I can't possibly think of all of them now, but here is a starter list. Now way am I hustling him out of this world before his time, but I'm going to start blogging a few of these from time to time as they pop in my head.
- He was the first relative to treat me as an adult vs. a kid when I was a teenager. My "promotion" from the kid's card table to the adult dining room table at Thanksgiving was due to him.
- My mother kept me on a short leash when I got my driver's license. But once when my uncle flew into Nashville, he recruited me to drive him to my grandmother's house in his rental car - some 80+ miles away. He taught me about making sure I accelerated on the entrance ramps to blend into traffic and to move to the left to allow other cars to blend into their lane. I wish he could give everyone the same guidance because rarely do today's drivers follow either tip.
- He got me my first Richard Petty postcard of the STP Charger. He mailed it to me from Florida in the mid 1970s, and I still have it.
He took me to my 1st Daytona 500 - 1980 - when Buddy Baker won.- My first trip to Hooter's was with him. San Jose Blvd in Jacksonville, FL. More than a mouthful indeed.
- It was at his house in 1991 after we had a large time at the Firecracker 400 NASCAR race where I had the "too much country" nickname hung on me.
- His refrigerator always seemed to have an endless supply of cold beverages. With every visit to his current house from 1984 until February 2010, his welcoming words to me: "Hey, how ya doing? Wanna beer?"
- He taught me a lot about professionalism in the workplace. For example, true professionals don't wear yellow shirts.
- When I was in college, he opened my eyes a lot about politics and the direction this country was headed.
- My first dinners of blackened redfish and etouffee were with him.
- He explained to me the differences in various types of red and white wines. He opened my eyes to enjoy it, match it with a meal, and try wines other than what my budget allowed at the time (e.g T.J. Swan's Easy Nights).
- I lived with my aunt and him for two summers during college breaks and worked at a warehouse in Orange Park, FL. We frequently stayed up until 2 AM on Friday and Saturday nights drinking beer in the dark on his patio. We talked careers, sports, politics, and relationships. Sometimes we just sat in silence for a few moments until both cans were empty and time came from a fresh one, a bathroom break, or both.
But speaking of doughnuts and oysters, let's make it a baker's dozen.
- I first ate freshly shucked, raw oysters with him and his father-in-law in 1984. Those first few certainly took some getting used to, but I ended up eating a ton of them that night.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Washington DC
A couple of weeks ago, the family vacation was to one of those obligatory destinations - Washington DC. Isn't there a short list of "must visit" places all families must eventually go? Orlando, Grand Canyon, Yosemite, the beach (plenty of latitude granted here - can be any beach), Washington DC?
Our itinerary went something like this...
As always, I took a lot of pictures the first couple of days. But then, I tried a different strategy this trip. My kids are old enough now to know how to handle a camera. So by day three, I turned it over to them to take pictures of whatever they wanted. I took it back just every so often for a particular shot I wanted.
So while I could share all sorts of shots such as how the cherry trees were in bloom...
...or how the Tidal Basin cherry trees framed the Jefferson Memorial...
...I'll instead present some alternate views of DC rather than continuing with pictures and commentary you've likely seen and heard a million times before.
As I mentioned above, the most up-to-date museum we visited was the Newseum on Pennsylvania Avenue. It focuses on how the media has covered key news and pop culture events both domestically and abroad.
In particular, three exhibits truly stood out from the rest.
When I last toured the Smithsonian Museum of American History two decades ago, I was amazed at all the cool stuff they had archived. Archie Bunker's chair. A full set of the 4077th from M*A*S*H. Richard Petty's STP Pontiac he drove to win #200. Don "Big Daddy" Garlits' Swamp Rat dragster. Linotype typesetting machines similar to what my dad used when he started in the printing business many decades ago. And so on.
We stood in a queue for about an hour to view the pop culture exhibit. When we finally got to the top of the line, two realities hit us right between the eyes:
In just about any US city I've ever visited, I could swing a dead cat in any direction and hit a convenience store to get a single beer or two - but not in Old Town Alexandria. I asked various staff members at our condo joint about any nearby 7-11 or the like. None were within walking distance. So instead of paying $7-$8 for a six-pack, I ended up buying individuals each night at the neighboring Hilton bar for $7 PER.
The nearest grocery store was Whole Foods. You know the place - the grocery store where guilt-ridden, Birkenstock-wearing, dirt people can buy overpriced, generic, organic Cheerios. Yet even with that stereotype in my head, I was hoping even these folks could enjoy a cold brew. Oh they could alright. For about $11 a sixer, I could enjoy a gluten-free Red Bridge beer. No barley or wheat! What's the matter with these people?
I thought this picture might be a good candidate for Fail Blog.
As my son and I strolled 23rd St. between the Foggy Bottom Metro stop and the Lincoln Memorial, I spotted the Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy window-unit air conditioned building at George Washington University. I don't know about you, but when I think Jackie O. I automatically think "cool". Am I right?
As difficult as it was to score beer at a convenience store, it was comforting to find it in abundant supply at the Austin Grill restaurant on King Street in Alexandria. My eyes also immediately found the Joe Ely Big Combo. Of all the Texas songwriters, it seems Joe would be one of the last ones to have a meal named after him. But he did, and I got it along with a couple of Shiner Bocks to wash it down.
St. Mary's foggy bottom? Hmm, just a suggestion Mary. Maybe you should cut back on the broccoli and bran muffins. I mean I'm just sayin...
This painting in the National Gallery of Art...
...reminded me of the scene in Animal House toga party right before Belushi pulls his best Pete Townsend imitation.
And this painting...
... reminded me of long-time Grand Ol' Opry performer Little Jimmy Dickens.
The Magic Gourd? OK, this one is yours. Be original. Be creative. Take the high road or go to the gutter.
I'll wrap it up by saying the view from the top of the Lincoln Memorial steps never gets old. I could sit there for days. Though I've gotta admit I did have a faint vision of Robin Wright Penn traipsing through the reflecting pool calling out "Forrrresst!" and my yelling back "JENNY!"
All in all, it was a good week. For the first time in about four years, we took our vacation without my in-laws. So in that respect, this trip was a great week. And that's no bull...
TMC
Our itinerary went something like this...
- Sunday - Shear Madness show at the Kennedy Center
- Monday - International Spy Museum (very interesting), Holocaust Museum (very disturbing), Jefferson Memorial
- Tuesday - Tour of the US Capitol, Duck tour of DC and a splash in the Potomac, National Botanical Gardens
- Wednesday - Smithsonian Museums of Natural History and American History
- Thursday - Newseum (very cool and most up-to-date of all museums we visited)
- Friday - Air & Space Museum on the Capital Mall
- Saturday - National Gallery of Art, Lincoln Memorial
As always, I took a lot of pictures the first couple of days. But then, I tried a different strategy this trip. My kids are old enough now to know how to handle a camera. So by day three, I turned it over to them to take pictures of whatever they wanted. I took it back just every so often for a particular shot I wanted.So while I could share all sorts of shots such as how the cherry trees were in bloom...
...or how the Tidal Basin cherry trees framed the Jefferson Memorial...
...I'll instead present some alternate views of DC rather than continuing with pictures and commentary you've likely seen and heard a million times before.As I mentioned above, the most up-to-date museum we visited was the Newseum on Pennsylvania Avenue. It focuses on how the media has covered key news and pop culture events both domestically and abroad.
In particular, three exhibits truly stood out from the rest.- One was a collection of Pulitzer Prize winning photos. I've seen many of them over the years, but to see them all together was pretty stunning.
- The second was the 9/11 exhibit featuring some unbelievable photos, headlines of the tragedy in dozens of newspapers from across the country, and the remnants of the transmission antenna recovered from the rubble of the collapsed World Trade Center.
- The third was the section of the Berlin Wall on display. The wall facing West Berliners still had all the graffiti. The reverse side of course had nothing much on it at all as East Berliners didn't exactly get to spend their spare time doodling political messages on the wall.
When I last toured the Smithsonian Museum of American History two decades ago, I was amazed at all the cool stuff they had archived. Archie Bunker's chair. A full set of the 4077th from M*A*S*H. Richard Petty's STP Pontiac he drove to win #200. Don "Big Daddy" Garlits' Swamp Rat dragster. Linotype typesetting machines similar to what my dad used when he started in the printing business many decades ago. And so on.We stood in a queue for about an hour to view the pop culture exhibit. When we finally got to the top of the line, two realities hit us right between the eyes:
- One, a sign announced the pop culture area was being re-done and to enjoy the few exhibits they had available. All they had on display was Archie's chair, Dorothy's red slippers from Wizard of Oz, Apollo Ohno's Olympic skates, Brian Boitano's Olympic skates, a Kermit the Frog puppet, and a mask from the Broadway production of The Lion King. That's it.
- Two, my kids neither knew who Archie Bunker was or even cared to know. When we told we were disappointed the other stuff wasn't on display, all we got were bored looks and yawns.
In just about any US city I've ever visited, I could swing a dead cat in any direction and hit a convenience store to get a single beer or two - but not in Old Town Alexandria. I asked various staff members at our condo joint about any nearby 7-11 or the like. None were within walking distance. So instead of paying $7-$8 for a six-pack, I ended up buying individuals each night at the neighboring Hilton bar for $7 PER.The nearest grocery store was Whole Foods. You know the place - the grocery store where guilt-ridden, Birkenstock-wearing, dirt people can buy overpriced, generic, organic Cheerios. Yet even with that stereotype in my head, I was hoping even these folks could enjoy a cold brew. Oh they could alright. For about $11 a sixer, I could enjoy a gluten-free Red Bridge beer. No barley or wheat! What's the matter with these people?
I thought this picture might be a good candidate for Fail Blog.
As my son and I strolled 23rd St. between the Foggy Bottom Metro stop and the Lincoln Memorial, I spotted the Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy window-unit air conditioned building at George Washington University. I don't know about you, but when I think Jackie O. I automatically think "cool". Am I right?
As difficult as it was to score beer at a convenience store, it was comforting to find it in abundant supply at the Austin Grill restaurant on King Street in Alexandria. My eyes also immediately found the Joe Ely Big Combo. Of all the Texas songwriters, it seems Joe would be one of the last ones to have a meal named after him. But he did, and I got it along with a couple of Shiner Bocks to wash it down.
St. Mary's foggy bottom? Hmm, just a suggestion Mary. Maybe you should cut back on the broccoli and bran muffins. I mean I'm just sayin...
This painting in the National Gallery of Art...
...reminded me of the scene in Animal House toga party right before Belushi pulls his best Pete Townsend imitation.And this painting...
... reminded me of long-time Grand Ol' Opry performer Little Jimmy Dickens.
The Magic Gourd? OK, this one is yours. Be original. Be creative. Take the high road or go to the gutter.
I'll wrap it up by saying the view from the top of the Lincoln Memorial steps never gets old. I could sit there for days. Though I've gotta admit I did have a faint vision of Robin Wright Penn traipsing through the reflecting pool calling out "Forrrresst!" and my yelling back "JENNY!"
All in all, it was a good week. For the first time in about four years, we took our vacation without my in-laws. So in that respect, this trip was a great week. And that's no bull...
TMC
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