Seashores and Sandspurs

Carving the Table on Thanksgiving

2011-11-27T18:48:00.004-06:00

This year we started a new tradition at our house on Thanksgiving day. I had been thinking about the idea for several weeks leading up to the holiday. What got me thinking about it was the knowledge that this year Miss Tammy and I would be joined by my oldest daughter Jen and her family from Kentucky and my son Matt with his family from Florida. That would mean there would be twelve of us together for Thanksgiving dinner. It has been years since we've had a crowd that size at our table for the holiday. Who knows how long it will be before we are together again. I wanted to do something we would all remember.

So, while the last of the dinner goodies were being prepared and the turkey was roasting in the oven I announced to Matt and my son-in-law Grant that their project for the day was to see that all their family members names were carved into the top of our dining room table.

Our dining table is one I acquired while in the antiques business several years ago. It's a really cool 1850's cotton sorting table with a drawer and turned legs and retains the early painted surface. The original top was damaged when I found it. I removed and kept the top replacing it with two old wide pine boards and finished them with several coats of tinted shellac. When I announced the name carving project there were several "are you sure" comments from the family. I was sure.

After a little practice on a piece of scrap paper, the names or initials, which ever was preferred were written in permanent marker on the table, and then carved deeply into the table top. It takes a while to carve a name into a pine board. By the end of the day a lot of progress had been made. We also had additional family members visit us and there names have been added to the table. They'll have to visit again soon to continue the carving project.

When all the names are cut in I'll stain the carved areas with a darker color and then finish with more shellac. It will look like the names have been there a long time.

The last year has been long one. Dad passed away in the fall of 2010. The following holiday season in the retail business where I work was hectic. Miss Tammy was diagnosed with breast cancer in January and the resulting surgeries and chemo regimen have taken their toll. Our list of important things and priorities has been dramatically rearranged.

We had a wonderful visit with family. Yesterday they all had to leave to get back home to jobs and life. It's quiet at our house tonight. But you know, every time we sit at our dining table there will be laughter and fun and kids and smiles and memories there with us. And there's talk that our new tradition may be making its way to Kentucky and Florida. I hope so.

And it all started when we carved the table on Thanksgiving.

Happy New Year! Let Your Past Go Up In Smoke

2010-12-31T20:12:00.006-06:00

I've never been a big fan of the habit of making lots of New Year's resolutions. The list of resolutions most often published seems a little light weight to me and more often points to bigger underlying issues that need the real attention. Having said that I know many good people make them every year. Have you kept them all? The idea is good. Unfortunately, keeping them is much more difficult than making them. There have been a number of surveys indicating that most New Year's resolutions are short lived at best. Most folks just don't keep them. Although it is thought that purposely making a resolution does give you a higher chance of succeeding with your goal.

Here's a short list of the most common ones according to Psychology Today:

Losing Weight

Exercising More

Quitting Smoking

Managing Debt

Saving Money

Getting a Better Job

Reducing Stress

Volunteering

OK, so why can't we keep them? Here's what I think. We keep piling our new resolutions on top of the old ones we haven't kept. We want to change our habits but we want to put the new plan on top of an old uncompleted one without removing the old one. Try putting a fresh coat of paint on several old layers of loose flaking paint. The new coat may look good for a little while but it won't be long before it starts flaking off with the old. Scrape and remove the loose paint and clean the surface and the new paint application will last a long time.

Maybe the thing to do is focus first on really dealing with unhealthy habits that keep nagging us. You know what they are. We all have them . And they keep surfacing. If they weren't there this whole resolution thing wouldn't be so important to us. Specific things we do that we know we do and really don't like that we do. This is personal. What do you really sincerely want to put behind you? What is that thing or things you've let get hold of you? OK, you get the idea.

At about 11pm start really thinking about those things. Get a metal pot or pan ( a wok is perfect) and put it on a surface that's non-flammable. Put a candle next to it and light it. Around 11:30pm get a pen and small piece of paper and make a list of the things you've been thinking about and want to put behind you.

Just before the old year ends take your folded list over to the candle and light it with the candle's flame. As the old year is ending and the new is beginning drop your burning list into the pot and watch it as it is consumed in the fire.

Now that we've watched old lingering unhealthy habits be consumed we have a fresh surface to place the new better way of thinking and doing. Let your past go up in smoke. Happy New Year!

Faux Finishing Made Easy

2009-06-30T20:25:00.002-05:00

So you've found a nice piece of furniture or a picture frame or neat little cabinet at a yard sale and you really want to give it a faux finish makeover. Well here is some good news. I've been refinishing, repairing and applying custom finishes on wood surfaces for more than twenty years and I'd like to share some relatively simple steps that can help you turn a "has been" into a "gotta have it". This can be a great weekend project that you will be be proud of if you follow these steps. If you are attempting this procedure for the first time I suggest you practice on a scrap piece of wood or a disposable surface first to get the feel of the technique.

Step #1 Find a candidate for makeover. We'll use this 1940s mahogany chest to apply our technique.

Step #2 Sand the surface to be painted with 150 grit sandpaper. Dust the surface.

Step #3 Apply a single coat of latex primer/stain blocker (Binz, Zap) onto the surface. Even though we've sanded the surface I recommend primer to help eliminate adhesion and bleeding problems that may arise when you are painting over old finishes.

Step #4 Apply a latex base coat in the color of your choice. This is the color that will appear under the topcoat. Use your imagination in combining colors that are compatible in contrast. In this example I'm using a light chocolate brown base. It will show up as a wood tone under the green topcoat that will be applied later.

Two coats are applied to completely cover the primer.

Step #5 Apply a media that will prevent the topcoat from adhering to the base coat in all the areas of the surface where you want a distressed layered appearance. In the project I'm using a wax candle.

Edges and mouldings are prime candidates for the wax. If you are attempting to be somewhat authentic with your distressing consider waxing areas that would normally show wear; around drawer pulls, the fronts of the top, legs near the floor, the arm rest of a chair, anywhere you would expect to see normal use and wear. Or just use your eye and imagination to create the look your after.

When you are satisfied you have applied the wax everywhere you wanted, lightly brush the loose material away. This will help the top color coat go on a little more evenly and keep some wax out of the paint container.

Step #6 Apply the top color coat over the entire surface. Paint over the waxed areas as if they weren't there. I'm putting on two coats of green for an even finish.

Step #7 Scrape all the previously waxed areas to create the distressed layered look. You can experiment with different tools for scraping. After a while you will discover a favorite. The only tools I used on this project are pictured. My favorites are an old flexible putty knife, a scotch brite pad and my thumbnail. The thumbnail really gives me the control and feel for the technique I can't get with anything else. Unless your thumbnails are very tough, scraping paint off wax will destroy them. Be careful!

Scrape lightly. You don't want to cut through the base coat. We're just trying to take the top layer of paint off so the base color will show through as an old finish.

I like to use the putty knife to "find" the waxed areas quickly and then detail them with my thumbnail.

After your satisfied with your layering effect, scuff the entire surface with a scotchbrite pad to feather the layered edges and smooth the surface for the final step.

O.k., we're finished scraping and have removed all the paint that didn't stick to the wax. This chest is ready for the last step.

Final Step Finish the piece with a durable clear coat. Here I'm using Valspar's clear satin faux finish protector. It gives the painted surface depth and seals and smooths the layered areas nicely.

With a clear finish coat and hardware back in place we've created a completely new look for our furniture. It is absolutely one of a kind and will be the envy of your friends.

Here's a matching nightstand finished with the technique described above. For this project a complete bedroom suite including chest, nightstand, poster bed, vanity, mirror and bench were given a faux finish. The owner is very happy!

A few notes about the finishing process. Each paint coat should be allowed to dry before the next coat is applied. Temperature and humidity should be considered in estimating drying time. Always practice on a scrap piece of material before going for it on the final piece. All of the paints and finishing products used in this project were latex. I recommend latex because of quick drying time, ease of cleanup and the availability of a huge palette of designer colors. While I chose to use wax as the paint releasing agent in this project a number of other choices are available; glue, sand, chalk, rubber cement and others. I use all of them for particular applications and have been pleased with the results. This technique should only be used for interior applications. Similar techniques can be used outside but require different considerations for materials not addressed in this project.

Consider this technique as you would a good recipe. You can follow it or it can be altered to suit individual taste. My cake turned out just right. However, this isn't my first cake. If yours doesn't don't blame my recipe. The good thing is that the results of this technique will never come out exactly the same. That is what makes it yours. I'd be happy to discuss the technique with you if you are interested. Contact me at (sidelyner@gmail.com).

Have fun with your project.

Happy Father's Day Dad!

2009-06-21T08:58:00.004-05:00

I love my dad.

The older I get the more I appreciate, remember and understand how I grew up. Not so much specific events or details (although those are clearer now) but the context in which all the things happened.

On Saturday mornings my dad would make a tepee by draping the bed sheet over his raised knee. The opening would be between his calf and thigh. I would sit inside and be the Indian chief while dad brought goods to the Indian village to trade.

My dad was friends with the make believe character "Roscoe" I played when I was four or five and often initiated him by welcoming me with "Where have you been, Roscoe?" when I found him working outside or in his office.

When I was about five dad taught me to tie a hook to a fishing line, bait it with a worm and catch fish from a stream that ran next to a friend's house. The fish were tiny and catching them required a very small hook known as a hair hook. I remember distinctly going to a bait shop and hearing my dad's response to the clerk asking him what size hair hook he wanted. Dad said we wanted "the hairiest ones you've got".

My dad loved to catch mullet with a cast net. I can remember many nights following alongside him in shoulder deep water after dark secured to his belt with a fish stringer as he threw his net along Courtney Campbell Causeway in Tampa. He showed me how to shuffle my feet along the bottom so I wouldn't step on and suffer the sting of one of the numerous stingrays there every night.

My dad traveled often when I was small. I couldn't go with him when he flew out of town even though I always wanted to. He knew that so once he said we were flying to New York. We packed up my suitcase, he dressed me up, put my top hat on me and we headed to Tampa International Airport to catch a flight to New York. We spent the day at the airport looking for a plane going to New York. For some reason we just couldn't find one. It didn't matter at all. One of my fondest early childhood memories is that day almost fifty years ago with my dad and my suitcase and top hat at the airport trying to find an airplane going to New York.

When I put those few remembrances along with a thousand more in perspective their value becomes evident. I've learned more lessons from my dad than from any other single source. I've learned as much about my mother and brother and my dad's family because I've learned so much about him. I've come to understand more about who I am and about the lives of others who know and have been influenced by my dad.

One thing is for sure, we are much more like our parents than we think. Often we are very much like them but won't (can't see it) admit that because we don't like the similar traits. I'm certainly like my dad in many ways. The more I can identify with that and use it for good the better off I'll be.

You see, my dad raised me and influenced me the way he did because of who he was and is. Influenced by his father and life circumstances. I'm sure he would have changed many of those but couldn't. Perhaps the same is true for you and your dad.

So I've learned lessons; how to do some things and how not to do others, how to act and maybe sometimes how not to act, all the while understanding that the lessons I was taught came out of my dad's sincere desire to teach me and be an example to me the best way he knew. My dad has always tried to look out for my best interest. There is no doubt. I respect him for that and am thankful for it.

My dad often said, "Son, in life you should only do whatever you can afford". Over the years I've done a lot of things I certainly couldn't afford and received more than my moneys worth doing a few others. I know now what good advice that really is and that he wasn't just talking about dollars and cents.

I'm a lot like my dad. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I love my dad.

What's a nice dog like you doing in a blog like this? Part 2

2009-05-25T23:00:00.000-05:00

We (my wife and I) decided to name the dog "Alli". She has markings that remind me of a Blue Heeler. I've always thought that Australia would be an interesting place to visit. Besides that, my wife's favorite menu item at Outback is Alice Springs Chicken. So, Alli is short for Alice. How perfect is that?

In the meantime we noticed that Alli was gaining weight and getting a little broad in the beam. It occurred to us that she might be expecting. And maybe that's why she was abandoned. Who knows? We hadn't taken her to the Vet yet so we were only guessing about it. Up to this point Alli didn't want to talk much about it. Every time I brought it up she would just get dog tired and fall asleep.

I decided it was time to have a serious talk with her and on a day off I loaded her up and took her for a walk in the woods along a creek that runs through the woods near our house.

I thought getting her out for a while in a relaxing setting might help her come clean about her past. We had a nice walk together. I enjoyed being in the woods as much as she did. Early spring wildflowers were abundant along the creek. As I walked along I thought how much I missed being in the woods and how long it had been since I had.

We came to a quiet spot along the creek. When I stopped Alli walked to the edge of the water and for a long time just sat there staring out at the moving water. I didn't say anything, I just let her reflect on the places she'd been, dogs she had known and how fate had brought her here.

Finally she turned and looked up at me and said, "I'm pregnant and I don't know who the father is".

After the walk in the woods there was a lot to do at my house. I built a whelping box and let Alli get used to it. It wouldn't be long before she would be spending a lot of time inside. Time flew by and before we were ready the big day was here.

The first puppy arrived!

Pretty soon there was a box of five.

When Alli was finished there would be seven pups. Six females and only one male. He was the last one and the only one we named immediately. "Lucky."

So now my chance meeting with a stray dog in town has resulted in eight dogs living in my kitchen and me having to step over a whelping box to get to the laundry room.

Did I mention we already had a dog? That's another story.

What's a nice dog like you doing in a blog like this? Part 1

2009-05-18T22:45:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago I had a chance meeting with a stray dog when she showed up where I work in town. Some local folks had spotted the dog running in the street. They chased it over to the sidewalk and into the store where I'm employed. The dog was friendly but obviously lost. I like dogs so it didn't bother me that the dog had come inside. I thought the owner would be close behind so I let the dog roam around for a few minutes. The folks who chased the dog off the street came in to make sure the dog was OK. While we were talking and waiting hopefully for someone to come in looking for a dog we noticed the dog's collar had a rabies tag on it. We checked the tag. It had been issued by the Lewisburg Animal Clinic in Lewisburg, TN. The tag was dated, numbered and included the name, address and phone number of the animal clinic.

The very nice people who got the dog out of traffic called the Lewisburg Animal Clinic. The clinic was given the location and description of the dog along with the tag number, date and a brief update on where and how the dog was found. The representative at the clinic said she would check the tag information and call back. After about thirty minutes the good Samaritans had to be on their way. The dog was secured in the back of the store where she could see what was going on while I called the animal clinic. The representative told me they were working on finding information and would call as soon as they came up with it. An hour goes by and now it's time to close the store. Haven't heard anything from the animal clinic. Can't leave the dog at the store. Looks like I'm taking the dog home until Lewisburg tells me who the owner is.

The dog did not have a problem with this at all and immediately made herself at home in my chair. I had obviously put this chair in the living room for her.

The next day I made another call to the animal clinic. Well this time it looked like we might have some good news. Wrong. The animal clinic folks think the tag was issued to a Labrador Retriever. Well, unless the Labs in the Lewisburg area are different than what I'm used to I don't think we've hit pay dirt yet.

The next day I called the clinic and spoke to a different person. This person had no knowledge or information on my situation. Once again I gave them all the information on the tag. They said they would look into it. I called back later in the day for an update. I told the woman that I didn't want to bother her, I just wanted to find the dog's owner who I also thought would want to find the dog. The animal clinic was still unable to tell me who the dog owner was.

The next time I called the clinic (by the way, the clinic never called me) I found out why it was taking so long to find out who the dog belonged to. The friendly clinic person told me that the numbers stamped on the rabies tags are recycled every year. As tags are issued the information is supposed to be entered into their computer system with the tag issue year preceding the actual tag number. But that's not what has been happening in Lewisburg. Tag numbers are being recorded over a period of years with no year prefix. It is so confused that the Lewisburg Animal Clinic can't tell you the breed, owner or much else about a lost dog even when the dog has a rabies tag with a date and number on it. Even their own explanation of the problem makes no sense.

Day after day the dog waited patiently in my chair while I searched lost and found records, gave up totally on expecting any help from Lewisburg and decided it was time to give the dog a name.

Stay tuned for part 2. There's more to this dog than meets the eye.

Winter Oranges On The 4th of July

2009-02-23T07:00:00.002-06:00

I like to eat oranges. Recently I read an article in an English publication about how the popularity of oranges has dropped in that country. It seems consumers think it's just too much trouble to peel them.

Every year about Christmas and on through the winter months when oranges are fresh and easy to find I'm reminded of several stories my dad used to tell me when I was a boy. One was about oranges. My father grew up in north central Florida. During the 1920s when he was a young boy oranges were always close by in season. By the time boys reached six or seven years old they carried pocketknives. Usually a jackknife or Barlow. Young boys (to young to even be allowed to own a pocketknife by today's standards) were proficient at whittling, carving or a playing a game of mumbly-peg.

Sometimes oranges or a single orange was the only present to look forward to at Christmas. Dad told me how they would peel the oranges in one long peel and tack them to the wall or a fireplace mantle where they would dry. The peels would dry until the 4th of July. On the 4th the ends of the peels were set on fire. An old dry orange peel will snap and crackle and give off a few sparks and smoke and sizzle as it burns. And it smells good. Dad said it was sort of a poor man's fireworks. His story along with my imagination as a little boy made it quite a tale.

When I was a boy my dad taught me to peel oranges with my pocket knife the same way. I still like to do it that way.

It's really easier to peel them like this and you don't get orange juice all over your hands.

But, that's not the reason I peel this way. I still do it this way because I remember the story my dad told me forty five years ago each time I peel an orange.

So, every winter I tack a few orange peels up to dry and think about some childhood stories my dad shared and hope my children will have as much fun remembering some things I taught them when they were little.

Before you know it the 4th of July will here. I'll be ready.

The Value of Self-Worth

2009-02-22T21:25:00.001-06:00

At work this week I spent quite a bit of time talking with folks from different walks of life with clearly opposing views and interests. While their view points were very different what I noticed most was the similar passion they each shared about the value of their differing interests.

In the 2000 film Gladiator, Russell Crowe's character (Maximus Decimus Meridius) makes this statement, "What we do in life echoes in eternity". I think for the most part people who actually believe there is eternity would think the statement is true. I do.

What is interesting to me is that folks who believe as I that there is eternity often have the hardest time deciding which things in life merit the most effort. It seems having a sense of eternity would make the choices easier. It doesn't seem to work that way. I think that's true because while we don't like to admit it, we have this great tendency to want the echo to be about us. About what we have contributed to mankind. About what we did to fulfill this empty space in our lives while doing some work of great importance. So we confuse what's really important with what we want to do. What we want to do becomes important simply because we want to do it. So we learn to co-exist, man and planet. We decide we are responsible for global warming. We decide we can end world hunger. We decide... That's the problem. We think we decide what is really important.

While our eternal value is decided by God we believe value is granted to those associated with; Greenpeace, Save the Whales, Rails to Trails, I love Snails, PETA, Adopt-A-Child, Socialism, or Barrack Obama. So while believing in and working in and for countless organizations and affiliations may be fulfilling, good for the environment, offer some sense of accomplishment and make us feel good, our association with them certainly has no eternal value.

We eternity believers get around this problem by giving temporal endeavors eternal value and attributing it to God. We make them ministries. Then we can say,"God called me to" whatever ministry. "God called me to such and such work". That way we get to do all the stuff that is really all about us by making God responsible for it. It has to be right and important doesn't it? I mean it was God who opened the door for me.

We spend so much of our time looking for the doors we want God to open we can be blind to the open doorway we're standing in. Instead of realizing the dysfunction in our own lives and families we adopt more children and expose them to chaos. Instead of saving our children we save Polar Bears. Rather than having compassion and love for our brother we ignore him and join organizations and wear cool tee shirts that say we have love and compassion to prove to others we have self-worth.

So whatever you do in life that's all about you please don't make the mistake of thinking those things will have any great eternal value.
Our eternal value is decided by God. So it has to be about him not us. I think so many good things we begin to do wind up so wrong because they start out being about someone else and end up being about us. Self worth, at least for me, is becoming more about the reason I do something than it is about the thing I'm doing. I think I can accomplish more good by doing less but with purer motive. More unselfish time spent doing fewer things that will leave longer lasting impressions. More time spent with people who need that time more than I think I need it. Right under my nose and I'm still looking for something else to do so I can believe I have some self-worth.

"Whatever we do in life echoes in eternity", it's just that most of the echoes, particularly the ones coming from the things we yelled out about ourselves will be so faint that no one will ever hear them. No one but us, we'll hear them over and over and over. How do you determine your your self-worth and what will it echo in eternity?

This Weeks Picture Frame Project

2008-09-30T16:50:00.007-05:00

Can't wait to see what's inside the bag?

Krystal Smith Lewter contacted me and asked if I would build a custom frame for a "special" drawing she was working on for a client. Krystal is an artist and the owner of Kreations by Krystal. Included in her many artistic and interior decorating talents is the ability to create beautiful pencil and charcoal drawings.

Krystal dropped the bag off where I work so I didn't get a chance to look inside until I got it home.

Look what's inside, a fabulous pencil drawing!

Krystal gave me the drawing measurements prior to dropping off the art so I built the frame to dimensions and waited to see the drawing before selecting the finishing process. The frame is 18" X 20 1/2" and built from 5 1/2" wide boards.

This frame will get a stain undercoat, several paint coats and will be protected with a clear topcoat in a satin sheen. Finishing will include a process where successive paint coats will be pulled away or separated from the previous coat so that the undercoat is visible beneath the paint. When complete it will look like old wood that has been painted more than once is being used for the frame material. Additional distressing of the wood will be added as needed to create just the right look.

Since the drawing is in pencil, I've decided to use black as the top color coat and grey to trim the routed edge and frame face bevel around the opening. I think the combination will really look good together. The art will be protected with non-glare glass

Art framed and ready to deliver.

I think this is the fourth or fifth frame I've done for Krystal. Today when I delivered the frame I told her how great her art made my frames look. I hope her client is pleased.

This project was pretty non-stop and I didn't take time to document all the steps. Several people have asked me about the finishing process I use and I'm thinking about covering the topic in more detail in another post. Anyone interested in that?

Also, I'll be doing more work for Krystal so I'll get contact information to pass on to you as well.

Born to Seaward

2008-09-22T08:46:00.000-05:00

A couple of weekends ago I read the book Yesteryear I lived in Paradise . Written by Myrtle Scharrer Betz, (from her memory at the age of 87) the book is the story of 51 years of her father's life from the time he arrived in the United States until his death in 1934. Myrtle's father Henry homesteaded 156 acres of what is now Caladesi Island (located off the Florida coast near Dunedin) in the 1890s. Myrtle was born on the island in 1895 and recalls her life as an only child, having lost her mother at the of seven, bringing to life the events she experienced with her father on what was then known as Hog Island. Myrtle passed away in 1992 at the age of 96. Just as she had requested, Myrtle's ashes were scattered in the waters of the Gulf. A number of recently discovered photos have been included in the book that were not available at the time of the first printing.

When I opened the book and read the Poem Born to Seaward I knew I wouldn't be able to put it down until I finished it. I've included it here for you.

Born to Seaward

Knowing how sea oats lean upon the wind,
Their silken rustle as the bend and sway,
And having had the sound of breakers dinned
Into your ears day after long bright day,
How can you turn you inward with good grace;
Toward towering mountains or a fertile land?
How can you even dare to set your face
Away from sea oats leaning to the sand?

You will not love the wheat fields or the corn,
The mighty rivers or the shallow rills;
Not in a thousand years, if you were born
To seaward, will you come to love the hills.
Better to give up all else than to be
Your whole life sick for sea oats and the sea.

Anonymous

If you enjoy reading about Florida history, or have a little saltwater running in your veins and would like to experience the life and times of early settlers who did too, you will enjoy this book. I did!

Compelled To Volunteer

2008-09-14T21:50:00.001-05:00

A few days ago I was reminded of a phrase I hadn't used in years; when someone representing the local county volunteer fire department knocked on my door. Years ago as a Seminole War living history interpreter I used to say I was 'compelled to volunteer' when a visitor asked me why I joined the army. In my spiel I recounted traveling to New Orleans and becoming involved in a questionable altercation with some individuals of ill repute. The U.S Army was in the area recruiting men to fight in the Florida territory and were aware of my situation. I was given the opportunity by the army to "volunteer" to fight the Seminoles or suffer the consequences. Being compelled and having little choice, I agreed to volunteer.

Back to the door knocker who was trying to 'compel me to volunteer'. I find it annoying that people volunteer to do something and then make other people feel guilty for not supporting or paying for it.

Please don't try to shanghai me for your volunteer effort because you don't have enough hands to complete it. Especially in this situation where voters recently decided to allow the county to collect $2.50 monthly or $30 a year from residents to fund volunteer fire departments. I suspect that some voted "yes" for one of two reasons: (1) it is easier to agree to payroll deduction than deal with the guilt trip incurred while facing a volunteer door to door solicitor twice a year, (2) what if we don't contribute and our house catches on fire?

Wash some cars. Cook some stew and sell it. Sell your four-wheeler. Auction your bass boat.

You figure it out. If that doesn't pay for it, dissolve the program. It doesn't deserve to exist.

I didn't volunteer for it, you did.

vol-un-teer: 1. To perform or offer to perform a service of one's own free will.
2. To do charitable or helpful work without pay.

All this has convinced me that it would be a service to my neighbor if I mowed his grass. I've decided to volunteer to do the job. I really think it would be the right thing to do. I was thinking I should do it today but it will probably be a few days before I can get to it. First I have to come up with a list of equipment I'll need; lawnmower, boots, goggles, hearing protection, gas, equipment shed, trailer, truck. There will also be costs for incorporation papers and legal fees. Then I'll need to make my neighbor feel guilty enough to buy all the stuff for me so I can volunteer to cut his grass. On second thought, maybe I should meet with local officials. I'm sure someone is willing to help me. I mean I can't do this all on my own. After all, I am volunteering to do this, all by myself. Please, won't you help me?

Are there any volunteers to help me understand this better? If so, send me an email. I'd rather you not knock on my door.

Do Y'all Take Credick?

2008-08-31T08:07:00.002-05:00

It is very amusing to me when people use words that don't make any sense to ask for or describe something. Sometimes the word (or words) they are using, although it may sound like the right one at the time, may have a completely different meaning or application. Sometimes the word being used isn't even close to being the right one. And even more amusing is when the same words are misused repeatedly in the same context. Is this confusion regional? Is it hereditary? Is it the result of drinking non-potable water?

I remember several years ago responding to the lady who came in to our antiques shop in central Alabama and asked, "Do y'all take credick?" She was holding a credit card in her hand. She then went on to ask if we took items on 'assignment'. She meant 'consignment'. She said she just wanted to know because she had some items to sell but had never put anything on 'assignment'. Over time several people from the same area inquired about our services using exactly the same words.

One day in the same town I spoke to a fellow I hadn't seen in a while. I asked him how he was doing and he said, "I've been having a problem with my privacy." My first suggestion was that he might want to keep his curtains closed. He cleared my lack of understanding by letting me know that he was going to schedule an appointment to have his prostate checked. I think the connection here is between 'privacy' and 'private parts'. I think?

I have to admit at this point that I'm guilty of having heard someone misuse a word and then goofing on them by repeating it in the same conversation myself. One example of this would be when the lady told me her finger was infected and her doctor had 'progged' under her fingernail during a recent office visit. I told her I imagined the progging must have been a little painful and I was glad that as far as I could remember I'd never had my finger progged. She said it was painful and I was lucky a doctor had never progged me. I believe the word we're looking for here is 'probe'. And I think I'm right about this because I've heard the word prog used in connection with spaceships. "They sent a prog down to the planet to see if there was any intelligent life there."

My wife works in a book store. Among the services the store provides is book cover imprinting. Particularly on Bible covers. She says that rarely does someone ask for their newly purchased Bible to be imprinted. The request is usually for monogramming. That's close, even though monogramming really refers to using only the initials in a name to identify something and customers often want more than initials on the cover. What is really amusing is the number of requests the store gets for 'mammogramming'. "Would you mind mammogramming this Bible for me?" I'm not sure if my response would be, "What would you like me to mammogram on it?" or "I'd be glad to, but it's going to pinch a little".

Speaking of mammogramming book covers, the most interesting one they've done on was for the newlyweds who actually wanted "YOU & ME 4 EVER" mammogrammed on their new Bible cover. I guess this shouldn't be surprising in a part of the world where a common response to the question, "What translation of the Bible are you looking for?" is, "The Holy one".

I hope you can find the same humor in this kind of stuff that I can. People are just people. The result of how they were raised, where and who they're from, and how much effort they've put into being who they are. We are all just people. I'm one like everybody else, so don't think I'm trying to take credick for being any better than you.

An Old Friend Would Like To Hear From You

2008-08-28T08:30:00.001-05:00

While cleaning out an old file cabinet in my garage I found a letter from an old friend. I haven't seen or talked to him in twenty years. Jon and I worked for the same state agency back in the '80s. We shared a lot of the same interests, worked together well and I thought he was a really nice guy. We were friends. The letter I found included some personal information about things that were going on at the time and I realized while reading it again how much I missed being in touch with him. Not because of the contents of his letter but because of confidence that we felt in sharing personal situations with each other.

Over the years I've said many times that you can count your real friends on one hand and probably have a few fingers left over. That may not apply to you but still pretty much does to me. I'm not talking about acquaintances, I'm talking about true friends. I won't define what a true friend is for you but I will say that they are rare. It is shame to meet people that you can develop and share a real friendship with and then because of a change in jobs or location forget that relationship and never communicate with them again.

The Internet made it pretty easy to find Jon and read a little about what he was involved in after all the years. He's moved on and up in his field and still doing the things he loves.

I found his phone number and called him. It was a little awkward waiting for a response because I figured he probably wouldn't even remember me much less be interested in talking. After all, it's been twenty years.

Jon and I talked for an hour. We brought each other up to date on our lives (as much twenty years as you can squeeze into one hour) and I told him that I was sorry that I hadn't done my part in staying in contact, that I counted him a friend and hoped our future conversations wouldn't be so far apart. Taking the time to call was one of the best things I've done lately. It was amazing. It felt as if we picked up right where we left off, just older with more experiences to add to the conversation. Like I had just gone to get a newspaper, not twenty years later. It was great talking to him and he said he was really glad I had taken the time to call. It will be just as easy to talk to him again. That's the way it should be with friends.

You can count your real friends on one hand and probably have a few fingers left over. If you have let time or distance or circumstances get between you and something as rare as a true friend, you need to pick up the phone, and old friend would like to hear from you.

Unused Gift Card

2008-08-19T08:54:00.004-05:00

I was looking for something in my wallet and found a gift card that had been tucked away there for a long time. As I looked at the card I thought about how many times I'd been in the store where the card is redeemable and spent money while never thinking I was sitting on an unused gift card. Why had I not used it? It was right there within reach every time.

Just think about all the other gift cards you and I are sitting on that will go unredeemed. Regardless of your age, education or income, I think you have abilities you aren't using. You have talent you don't realize. There are things you and I know how to do, explain, teach, share and contribute that others folks do not. Talents that would be a benefit both to ourselves and to others if we would only put them to use.

Businesses, depending on how states require them to handle liabilities and income, can turn a liability into huge profits when gift cards are not redeemed. Last year Ruth's Chris, the steakhouse chain, expected to add about $2.2 million in operating income as a result unredeemed gift cards. It doesn't work that way with the God given gift cards we aren't using.

The sad reality is that when you don't redeem the gift card of talents and abilities that was designed just for you, nobody profits. Not you, not the one who gave you the gift, nor the countless people who might have benefited from it. In fact, everyone involved loses. What are you doing with all the unused gift cards you are sitting on?

Lesson From A Bluebird

2008-08-06T08:30:00.001-05:00

Early one morning a few days ago, after one of the many sleepless nights I've experienced lately, I decided to get up, make some coffee and go outside to sit on the front porch. It was about 4 am by the time I made it outside and all was still.

Early morning (maybe not quite this early) is my favorite time of day. It was peaceful sitting there waiting for this part of the world to come alive.

I grabbed my binoculars on the way out hoping I might see a few early birds. Daylight brought the first visitor, a male bluebird looking for breakfast. I watched as he made several trips from his perch to the ground and back. He would spot a bug or something in the grass and quickly fly down and make a meal of it before heading back up to his branch for more hunting.

After watching the bluebird carry on for several minutes I was overcome with the thought of the complexity, simplicity and perfection of Gods' creation. I noticed how focused the bird seemed to be. The bluebird was doing exactly what God created him to do. Nothing more and nothing less. He was accomplishing in his life everything that God expected of him. He was doing it with no grumbling, no arguing, no excuses and nothing that would cause God to think that even for a moment that he was trying to be anything but the bluebird God created him to be.

How much more pleasing to God would we be if we desired only to become what He created us to be? No grumbling, no arguing, no excuses and nothing that would cause God to think even for a moment that we were trying to be anything but faithful servants in His Kingdom.

When things work exactly as God created and designed them to work we witness absolute perfection. If I had been asleep the other morning I would have missed a lesson I needed. A lesson from a bluebird.

Stir Crazy on Steroids (Prednisone)

2008-07-31T15:30:00.000-05:00

From the last full week in June until July 29th I was taking prescription prednisone. Prednisone is a powerful anti-inflammatory in a class of medicines called corticosteroids and was prescribed along with the antibiotic levaquin to aggressively fight an infection that had been causing pain (pleurisy) in the left side of my chest since May. I was given lorcet for the pain. I've never experienced anything close to the reaction my body had to prednisone.

I had been taking the steroid for just over a week when I received a call from Kim Harbin at Dr. Hendrick's office with news about my CT scan results. Kim had called Dr. Cannon at Valley Imaging to check on my CT scan findings. Kim knew the July 4th holiday weekend would be a long one for me not knowing the outcome of the CT and he was kind enough to find out what the results were the very next day after I received the scan. It was very thoughtful of him to do that. I really appreciate his concern and effort to get the information to me so quickly. He is a good man. Kim told me that after viewing the CT scan Dr. Cannon believed there was a slight indication the small nodule in my chest was showing signs of calcium buildup. That would indicate that my body was trying to encase the area or seal it off as an old wound. Man, that's a good sign. It would mean the nodule is probably not cancerous. Dr. Cannon suggested I could either get a biopsy, or based on the evidence of calcium around the nodule, schedule another CT scan in three to six months and evaluate any changes occurring at that time. I got the feeling Dr. Cannon thought a follow-up CT was the way to go. I opted for another scan in a few months; thanked Kim for his kind effort and began the July 4th weekend feeling somewhat relieved even though the chest pain persisted and I was starting to experience a reaction to the steroids.

After a week taking the prednisone I could sense a difference in the way I felt within minutes after swallowing a tablet. I took the first steroid prescription for about a week. My second prescription called for three tablets a day for seven days; two tablets a day for seven days and then one tablet a day for seven days. The first noticeable difference was that I couldn't sleep at night for more than 15-20 minutes at a time. I had been having trouble sleeping already because of chest pain. This was different. I couldn't sleep now because... I just couldn't sleep. Wake up three or four times an hour all night long for several weeks and it starts to get aggravating. I tried other beds, chairs, the floor and just not going to bed at all. I mentioned in an earlier post that over the years I've not been one to take pain medication. Well I decided that the lorcet might help me sleep so I took it. The lorcet didn't seem to make much difference except that I wasn't as aggravated that I couldn't sleep. Even a combination of brandy and lorcet didn't help me sleep. However this combination did help ease the chest pain a little and completely removed any guilt I was experiencing for keeping other people awake. After a couple days of this I decided it was not the approach that would be a good idea for the long term.

So, I get up from another night of not sleeping and start the new day with more prednisone. Well by now I'm a little dull from the all the medicine and the being awake all night and things that don't usually bother me are ticking me off. I don't have much patience with things. I can't get my thoughts together one minute and in the next I'm concentrating on a deep intellectual idea that I'm sure is so profound I need to write it down. I'm thinking, people need to hear about this. Very simple tasks seemed complicated. At work I'm finishing an order for some picture frames and I feel compelled to count the frames. Not that I don't know how many I'm working on, I just need to count them. So I count them again. Then when I start applying the paint, for some reason I think that it would be a good idea to count them again. And then when I paint two of the frames I look over at the other ones and wonder how many are left now that I've painted two. So, I count the ones that are left and then think about how many I would have if I added back the two I just painted. The really interesting and frustrating thing is this kind of stuff goes on for several weeks. Deep thoughts about life and then an inability to decide If I'm screwing on the right plastic cap on my purified water bottle. Less than ten minutes after taking a prednisone and I sense the start this strange behavior.

The side effects of high doses of steroids include: back pain; headache; muscle aches or weakness; nausea or vomiting that looks like coffee grounds; cold; fever; sore throat; unusual weight gain; unusual weight loss; loss of appetite; mood, mental or personality change; swelling of feet, hands, or back. Included in the allergic reactions are: rash, itchiness, dizziness or trouble breathing. The side effects include lots of other things I didn't list. In fact, there is a note on the information that comes with the prescription that you should call the doctor if you experience any side effects not listed. One side effect I found interesting was that everything I ate tasted great. Water tasted sweet like it had sugar in it. Black beans were fabulous. The other side of that was a complete loss of appetite. Strange that everything tasted so good but I had no interest in eating anything. In addition, the prednisone also affected my blood sugar level. I have hypoglycemia and big changes in my sugar level can produce very similar side effects. Mix steroids with blood sugar problems and you can quickly find yourself between here and never-never-land. I didn't experience all of the side effects but enough of them to wonder how this stuff can be good for you. It was a wild ride. If you don't believe me ask my wife.

On July 29th I took the last of the steroids. WooHoo! The last week, particular the last few days, as the frequency of taking them dropped to once a day, I've been going through steroid withdrawal. That's also one of the complications of taking them. I was very edgy, confused at times, mad at nothing and wide awake. I felt like I needed to take them for the first time. I didn't want anybody to mess with me. I knew a guy a long time ago; said he had a friend who liked to fight. He said his friend liked fighting so much he just walked around hoping someone would drop a hat. I think I know how he felt. Man, there were couple of days I would have loved for someone to drop a hat.

As I've related my experience with steroids to the doctor, the pharmacist and to other folks who have either taken them or knew someone who has; no one seems surprised at my experience. When I stopped to tell the pharmacist about some of the side effects he said; "Oh yeah, a friend who I used to work with got a divorce while he was taking them". "They'll completely change your personality, there bad." Well I'm sure glad I stopped in to tell you about it. You've been a great comfort.

Today I thank God that the pain in my chest is gone. The side effects of the steroids are dwindling. Getting some sleep is good and the probability that the nodule in my chest is old damage has reduced my load considerably. I feel like I've weathered a storm and it's time to take the reefs out of the sail, bail a little water and get back on course. In a few months I hope a second CT scan will end any further worry about my chest problems.

Oh, I did write down a couple of those thoughts I had while I was stir crazy. I'll share those with you in time. Thanks for bearing with me the last few weeks. It is nice knowing there are a few folks out there interested enough to read this. Surprising really.

Scanning The Horizon - The CT Scan

2008-07-22T07:40:00.003-05:00

On July 3rd I was given a computed tomography (CT) scan at Valley Imaging in Athens, AL.

The previous week I had picked up my chest x-rays and scheduled an appointment for the folks at another doctor's office to take a look at them. As soon as I had picked up the x-rays and looked at them for myself I was glad I had decided to get another opinion. Even I could clearly see the a mass or spot on the left side of my chest near my left lung. It looked like it was near my heart to me. My first thought was "why did this have to go to Birmingham for someone to see it?" I'm certainly not a doctor, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn once. The spot, the thing that they are calling a 'nodule' was very evident to me.

When I delivered the x-rays to my new doctor they looked them over and gave me a little more information. I was told there could be a couple of possibilities to consider. The good possibility was the nodule might be a result of old damage caused by a prolonged case of untreated pneumonia. Maybe an area of scar tissue my body was trying to seal off by encapsulating it in calcium. On the other hand, the nodule looked round (wrong shape) and it is on the side of my lung (wrong place) and that brings up the possibility of cancer.

The doc's personal on the spot opinion was that he thought the spot was old damage. The only way to be more certain was to get a CT scan. And the very first thing for me to do was get a complete blood test and let the lab look at my blood cell counts.

The doctor also said the pain in my chest (still there since May) might not be connected at all with the nodule issue. He said it could be, but may also be coming from another infection. He checked me over pretty thoroughly and I was diagnosed with pleurisy. I headed to the lab for blood tests with a pocket full of prescriptions for an aggressive attack on infection including antibiotics, pain killers and a steroid pack. The CT scan would be scheduled immediately, or near the end of the following week, depending on my blood test results.

I left the doctor's office with pain in my chest; nodule on side of my left lung, no blood test results, a pocket full of prescriptions, and the wonderful thought that I may have cancer to keep me in good spirits the whole week leading up to my CT scan.

The first news came from the doc's office about my blood test results. All looked good. I felt better hearing that. My CT was set up for July 3rd.

I arrived at Valley Imaging on Thursday morning July 3rd for the CT. Just walking in the place you don't really get the idea there's much going on there. It is a small office with a small waiting room. I'd done a little research on the procedure and knew what to expect. I really liked the technician who administered the scan. She was very kind; explained everything clearly and really tried to make me feel comfortable with the process. She said I'd feel like I was wetting on myself when she injected the iodine dye into the vein in my arm (helps the machine see my organs and blood flow). I did. I even looked down to see if I had. But she was right it was only a feeling. The scan was specific to my chest area. The whole process took less than fifteen minutes. The technician was kind in allowing my wife to take the picture during the scan for this post. I liked the folks at Valley imaging and recommend them if you are ever in need of the type service they provide. They're equipment is state of the art as far as I've been able to determine. Nice folks!

The CT scan is painless except for the very minor discomfort of the needle stick when the contrast dye is injected. The machine at Valley is very open and there was no claustrophobic feeling (at least for me) when I entered it. The room is bright. I just closed my eyes and thought positive about the results the whole process would bring.

It's the thoughts about the possible results of things like CT scans and MRIs and x-rays that make them uncomfortable. Your attitude going in really makes a big difference in how the process goes. I decided that I was ready for the outcome whatever it was. I had already spent much time praying for good results, thanking God for all the blessings he has given me up to this point and preparing my mind for what the next days would bring.

Hey Doc, My Chest Hurts When I Breathe

2008-07-18T08:31:00.009-05:00

Today is the first day in awhile that I've really been interested in writing. Well, maybe it's not the first day I've been interested, but it is the first day I've felt organized enough to do it. The last weeks have been trying for me and I want to bring things up to date.

Back in May I started having some pretty bad pains in the left side of my chest every time I would take a breath. The deeper the breath the worse the pain. The pain didn't seem to affect my strength much, it just hurt when I would breathe. I limped along with it for a few weeks and finally went to the doctor's office for a checkup . I described the pain and tried to relate any other symptoms I could think of to help the doctor understand my discomfort.

The doctor looked me over and x-rays were taken of my chest. The x-rays were checked and the doctor related to me that nothing abnormal showed up on the x-rays. The doctor thought that I might just have some inflammation around the chest cavity (maybe a strain in the muscle tissue) so I was given a prescription for an anti-inflammitory and sent home. The doctor told me as a precaution the x-rays would be sent off to another location for a second opinion.

The prescription had no noticible effect on the pain. It persisted into June. Some days better, some days worse. Going into June I was really not feeling well.

One day in early June I got a call from the doctor's office concerning the x-rays that had been taken of my chest. It seemed the second opinion folks had contacted my doctor because they noticed a visible "nodule" in the x-rays and thought that I needed to come back in for additional x-rays, or better yet, schedule a CT scan. The technician told me over the phone that they could handle arrangements for a CT scan for me. I enquired about the details and told them to schedule it. They said it could be scheduled within a week and that they would be back in touch with me.

Four or five days went by and I didn't hear anything. The idea of a "nodule" in my chest was bothering me and I started wondering why it had taken a second opinion for it to be discovered. I was not comfortable with the way I was seeing this going so I decided to call the doctor, ask some questions and maybe even pick up the x-rays. That's what I did.

Next stop, a clearer second opinion and Valley Imaging...

I'll Always Be My Momma's Baby

2008-06-30T08:00:00.001-05:00

Last Wednesday a nurse handed me a small plastic cup and said, "We need a specimen."

In a split second it was thirty eight years ago and I was in Dr. Corum's office in Tampa. I was fourteen years old. I had strep throat for the millionth time and my mom had taken me to the doctor. I was growing up; my "restricted" driver's license was only a year away and I was cool. My hair was starting to get a little longer and I was wearing flares and desert boots. I was old enough to already have my first motorcycle, a Harley Davidson 125. I was sitting with my mom in the waiting room. There was a separate waiting area for patients considered to be contagious; we were in there.

A nurse called my name. I got up, so did my mom. I didn't want her to but she came with me through a door and into a hall where another nurse handed me a small paper cup and said, "We need a specimen." Before I had time to respond in a cool fourteen year old kind of way my mother looks at me like I'm lost and says, "Son, she wants you to wee wee in the cup." I was humiliated.

"The restroom is right down the hall." Back to reality I smiled at the nurse. She didn't know why. I took the cup and fulfilled my responsibility. I thought about how if it were possible for my mom to have been with me the other day she would have looked at me like I was lost and said, "Son, She wants you to wee wee in the cup." I wish she could have been there.

I miss my mom.

Sometimes Life's A Drag

2008-06-28T08:00:00.002-05:00

I was thinking about political correctness; how much I dislike it and how out of control it is and it reminded me of a fella named Cecil. I knew him about 30 years ago. I'll share this story about him with you. Cecil worked as a ranch hand on a large piece of property in Florida. He often worked at night patrolling the ranch, checking fence line security, monitoring the large cattle herd and generally looking after things. The ranch was out in the country and it was not unusual for night time visitors to be up to no good in the area. There were lots of wild turkey, hogs and deer in addition to cattle, so there was a lot to keep an eye on.

On night while on patrol Cecil discovered an armed poacher who had crossed a fence illegally and had entered the property to hunt. Cecil shined his truck high beams on the guy and pulled up to him. Cecil was also armed. He carried a .38 revolver. It was always unsettling to see Cecil's revolver. It looked old and worn and like it might come apart or explode if it was fired. The cylinder wobbled and the grips seemed to always look loose. It was somewhat intimidating.

The grazed pasture (where he was discovered) didn't give the fella a way to escape. Cecil got out of his truck, pulled his gun and pointed it at the poacher. He told the man to drop his gun. The man dropped his rifle. Cecil thought that since he still had several hours of patrolling left and the front gate to the ranch was over a mile away, the best thing to do under the circumstances was to take the man around to the back of his truck and tie him to the rear bumper.

For the rest of the night Cecil continued his routine; checking fence lines, making sure gates were closed and locked, securing ranch equipment and driving all over the thousands of acres of ranch property he had to secure. All the while the poacher being dragged behind his truck attached by a length of cowboy rope. Through mud holes, cow pies, palmettos and what ever else Cecil thought would remind the fella he might not have made the best decision coming onto the ranch that night. Cecil was a man of few words. He recalled that the poacher yelled an hollered and "squalled" some from behind the truck but Cecil said he really couldn't understand most of what he was saying. And besides Cecil said he didn't really like talking much while he was on patrol.

When it was about daylight and time for Cecil to end his shift he dragged the poacher up to the front entrance gate to the ranch, untied him and told him, "I don't want to see you around here anymore". Cecil said he didn't remember seeing the man after that night.

Someone once asked me a question about the best way of handling a law enforcement situation in a park. I remember joking that the answer could be found some place between Andy Griffith and Miami Vice. I believe Cecil found that place and may have had the perfect understanding of political correctness.

Sitting By A Campfire

2008-06-27T07:45:00.002-05:00

One evening soon, go out in your yard and clear a safe place where you can build a small fire. Like you would build if you were camping. Not a bonfire, just a little one you can sit next to.

If campfire building isn't something you've done very many times; you can find a few twigs, a small dry tree limb or two and light it with charcoal lighter just as you would if you were grilling. If you're more proficient, a single match and some kindling will do the trick. You may even have a few small scrap boards in the garage you could burn. It doesn't really matter how you go about it, just be careful and get a small fire going.

When you have it going and you've rounded up a few extra sticks of wood, just enough to keep it burning for a little while, sit down in a chair or on the ground next to the fire and watch it burn. Take in the smell, listen to the crackling of the wood as it burns. Watch the smoke disappear into the night sky. Look up at the stars and be observant of the night sounds.

You don't need to take your cell phone, iPod or Game Boy this time. Just for a few minutes enjoy the quiet relaxing experience of being outside in the dark next to the fire. It is surprising sometimes what a few minutes next to a fire might prompt you to remember or think about. There's something good about sitting by a campfire. You'll probably think afterward that you should have done this a long time ago.

There's Something Fishy Going On Here

2008-06-26T07:42:00.005-05:00

Remember the time you ordered that grouper sandwich, loved it and told your friends they just had to try one? My money says it probably wasn't grouper. In fact, I'd say that most of the time you don't get the fish you order from the menu at a seafood restaurant. Why do I think that? Because you can't tell the difference between grouper and Asian catfish, or tilapia, or cod. The restaurant owner knows that. He also knows that imported Asian catfish costs him less at wholesale and he can still charge you for grouper.

The grouper sandwich in the picture above is from one of Crabby Bills Restaurants in Florida. Crabby Bill says the fish in his grouper sandwich is "100% grouper" and that they also have their own fishing boat fleet to ensure the freshest seafood. I like that. Most seafood restaurants don't go to the trouble.

The St. Petersburg Times in Florida ran a special report where they surveyed 11 Tampa Bay Area restaurants that featured grouper on the menu. Six out of the 11 establishments were found to be serving substitutes. The biggest deception was at the Blue Heron Cafe in Palm Harbor. Their "champagne braised black grouper" for $23 was non other than tilapia. And these are restaurants located only a few miles from the coast. Imagine what happens when you get further inland.

News Channel 5 in the Mobile - Pensacola are ran a similar story. They did DNA testing at ten restaurants and found only one actually serving grouper.

This substituting isn't limited to restaurants. Similar discoveries have been made at seafood markets in the Pensacola area as well as many other locations.

Does It Matter?

If you enjoyed the "grouper?" and felt like it was worth what you paid for it; you may think it doesn't matter. For my money, I think it matters very much. If I ask for a grouper sandwich, that's what I want to get. Fresh grouper is very good. It has a distinct texture and flavor. That would be the reason I would order it. I want a grouper sandwich or fillet or whatever because I'm thinking how much I enjoy that particular flavor. The same principle would apply to other kinds of fish. If you have a taste for dolphin (I am no longer calling it Mahi Mahi) or sea bass or smoked mullet (who else grew up eating mullet?) then that's what you want. Don't offend me by substituting tilapia.

Oh please, not tilapia!

Of all the substitutes for grouper, in my opinion the worst is tilapia. The non-native blue tilapia, originally from West Africa and Palestine were introduced to the United States in the late 1950s (by idiots at University of Auburn) to investigate its potential as a sport fish and food source. A few years later in the early 1960s the Florida Game and Fish Commission (probably Auburn grads who moved south) introduced the the tilapia to Florida to investigate its use as a sport fish and as a tool to help control exotic aquatic weeds. Both ideas failed and an attempt was made to eradicate the entire population. By that time fisherman who thought the tilapia controlled water weeds and was a sportfish were putting them in water bodies all over the place. By the 1980s they were being found from Texas to the west, Florida to the south and as far north as North Carolina. Today other varieties of tilapia from all over the world are imported by the seafood industry.

When I was employed with the Florida Department of Natural Resources in the 70s and 80s, tilapia were considered a blight to natural habitat. Their breeding habits were disrupting and destroying the shoreline communities of native species such as large mouth bass and bluegills. Originally brought in to control exotic weeds the tilapia had become as large a problem as the one it was brought in to remedy. Similar problems have been caused when exotic species are brought in to control other exotics. Efforts were continuing to eradicate them. Also by this time tilapia were being farm raised as a food fish. Local fish farmers were suspending rabbits in wire cages over farm ponds containing tilapia. To reduce costs the farmers fed the rabbits; the rabbit dropping fell into the water and supplied food for the tilapia.

Listen, this ain't China yet. And until it is, the result of this fish farming method does not equal "fresh seafood" to me. I feel the same way about farmed raised catfish. If you know what a wild river or lake catfish tastes like you will immediately notice the difference when you eat one that is farm raised.

So, I'm opposed to the watering down or dumbing down approach that results from this type of substitution, especially in the seafood industry. It results in the "heaping piles of really cheap food restaurant" concept catering to lines of cattle awaiting cud appetizers. Serve the same crap everywhere and in time we'll think it is supposed to taste that way. IT'S NOT!

I grew up eating local fresh seafood. Seafood: scallops, oysters, shrimp, stone crab claws, shedder crabs, mullet, sand perch (one of the sweetest fish you'll ever taste), flounder, reds, speckled trout, whiting and lots of others. All with distinctly individual flavors. Seafood. To me that doesn't mean fried farm raised Asian catfish. And it doesn't mean tilapia in the grouper sandwich.

I remember seeing all the signs for "fresh seafood" when I first moved to central Alabama. After realizing that meant waaay overcooked frozen shrimp and farm raised catfish; I started telling my friends that in Alabama "surf and turf" meant fried catfish and okra. The absolute worst "seafood?" I ever ate was at the Saw Meal Restaurant just south of Centerville, in central Alabama. Known for their weekends only, huge "fresh seafood" buffet featuring rubber crab legs, hockey puck scallops, jerky shrimp, corn fed bland catfish, all overcooked and served to hoards of local diners raving about the menu while waiting in line to eat it. I'll bet that locals who grew up around Mobile, AL wouldn't eat there.

For a coastal boy like me it's not about the flavor of all the spices, rubs or sauces, pastes and coatings I can think of to screen or hide the taste with. What I enjoy about the taste of seafood is the taste of the seafood. All that extra stuff is supposed to do is accentuate the flavor, not become the flavor. Until you know what something really tastes like without the cover you will never know what you are missing. If you don't like it, that's fine. But do yourself a favor and at least try the real thing so you'll know when you are being duped. Or don't, and continue to think tilapia is worth paying for and Captain D's is a fresh seafood restaurant.

The bottom line is that I don't want to take a bite out of my seafood entree, not be able to identify it and worry that there's something fishy going on here. You shouldn't either.

Another First Day

2008-06-18T21:42:00.002-05:00

How many times have you heard the phrase "this is the first day of the rest of your life"? On the cork board above my computer there are several small pieces of paper with dates noted on them that I've pinned to the board. "July 12, 2007" is up there a little to the left of "Feb. 15, 2008". I have other dates pinned there too.

No one else knows why the dates are important to me. The dates represent learning experiences. Specific things happened on those days that I don't want to forget. Days that I found myself in situations where I noticed either in my own behavior, or in the behavior of another, the start of a pattern I could build on or one in which I was already involved and needed to stop completely.

It's interesting and sometimes baffling to me how many times I need to see something or be involved in a situation before I really get it. How many times before I realize that I'm doing the same thing in the same situation over and over again and I'm heading toward the same result unless I handle it differently?

Until we realize that we need to be or do or act differently than we are we won't. It's much easier to see when other folks need an attitude adjustment isn't it? And sometimes it is easier for other people to see things about us that we need to change than it is for us to see those things in ourselves. The point is, we have to not only see it but we must on our own decide to make the change or it's not going to happen. You can't accomplish much trying to change someone else and they won't get far attempting to change you unless individually you both see the need and have the desire to do something about it.

Once you see it, (if you are sincerely looking you will) I mean really see it, you don't want to forget it. Because it is a great thing to spot in yourself a flaw and begin to repair it, or a strength and begin to cultivate it. We all have plenty of each.

It is also better to notice in someone else a strength and compliment it than it is to look past it so you can find a flaw and criticize it. Every day gives me ample opportunity to be a witness to my own weaknesses so I shouldn't have much time left to spend pointing out yours.

Try to be more cue-conscious as you go about your day. You might notice something you've been overlooking. I can tell you from experience, you've missed a few that were right in front of you. Then when you do, write it down, pin it where you can see it and remember it and think about it every day. It's a good thing to do because this is the first day of the rest of your life.

A Rose By Any Other Name

2008-06-10T18:43:00.003-05:00

For the last four years every time I talked to my neighbor (the one across the street) he called me Ed. Ed is not my name. For some reason, after we met and introduced ourselves to each other he didn't remember my name. So, when we would see each other cutting the grass or getting the mail or discussed neighborhood stuff he always addressed me as Ed. Every time. He'd say something like "Hey Ed, just wanted to let you know we'll be out of town for a few days. Sure would appreciate it if you'd keep an eye on things for us." And I'd respond with "No problem, I'd be glad to." And so it went for four years.

Until the other day. My neighbor came over with a sheepish look on his face and said he had been talking with his wife and in the conversation he commented that he needed to go over to Ed's house and ask him about something. His wife said; "Who's Ed?" And he said "Ed, across the street." "Where do you need to go?" she said. "To Ed's house, Ed, Ed, across the street." His wife said, "Ed who? The guy across the streets name is Pete."

So he's sharing this story with me and I'm having a hard time controlling myself. So finally in all seriousness he looks me in the eye and says; "Ed, is your name Pete?" I told him yes and he asked me why in all the times we had talked had I not told him he was calling me by the wrong name. I confessed that I knew someday we would be having this conversation and I would get to see the look on his face when we did, and I didn't want to spoil it. That was worth waiting four years for! Now, if I can just get my wife to stop calling me Ed.

I'm Not Relieved By This

2008-06-09T06:33:00.006-05:00

What an innovative idea. Take a look at this new portable restroom for men who play golf. It's the UroClub. Now I don't play golf, but even if I did I still wouldn't use one of these. For years men have been peeing outside behind or next to; trees, bushes, fences, boat motors, tents, telephone poles, cars, golf carts, phone booths, pickup trucks and off roofs and bridges. There's something unmanly about peeing into a golf club. I think it's for wussies. When men were men we didn't need one of these. But then again that probably applies to lots of things.

Anyway, think about new items that may be developed because of this one. What if you had to pee while you were up to bat while playing baseball? The Bathroombat of course. A removable cap on the handle solves the problem. If you're fishing you might use the Peepole. What if you have to go while you're in a canoe or rowboat? You could use the Puddlepaddle. Just wait, you'll see that the possibilities are endless. Seems like a Whizstick could just as easily be designed for hockey players.

Seeing the UroClub reminded me of an idea I had years ago. Back when the Pocket Fisherman by Ron Popeil was being heavily advertised. I thought Ron should come up with Pocket Urinal. It would inflate in seconds and look just like a porcelain urinal. Since it would be made out of a material that would disintegrate when coming in contact with water it would disappear immediately after you used it. Now that would be much more manly than a Uroclub.

You know after thinking about it; there are probably enough wussies out there ready to buy the Uroclub that the designer will become rich. Maybe I should start considering the needs of wussies and develope a product line just for them.

Belated New Year's Resolution

2008-06-05T22:17:00.003-05:00

I'm home after several days with family enjoying the coast along Florida's panhandle. It was my plan to publish a couple of posts while I was there. I wrote quite a bit, but after reading what I'd written I decided it was all wrong. My attitude was bad, I had been fighting a painful medical issue for a week and a half, I was trying to pretend it wasn't bothering me so it wouldn't mess up the trip and all that really showed up in my writing. Combine that with the fact that I have a very old Dell laptop running Windows Abacus. It works fine for..., for..., it works fine for.... If you put a small blanket on it when it is plugged into the battery charger the dog loves to lay on it. Yeah, it works fine for that. Anyway, it was just better that I didn't try to publish anything.

But here it the best thing. After getting back home to Podunkville and spending a few days reflecting on (don't you hate it when someone says they're "reflecting back" on something?) the trip, I have come to an amazing realization. I believe I've had an "apostrophe". An awakening. I've identified a major problem. You want to know what it is? It is this; I've been trying to get away from things I don't like instead of trying to get to things I love.

I love saltwater, bays, seashores, and access to open water you only find along the coast. But I've allowed circumstances (that I really don't like) make me feel like a tourist the last few times I've been near it. Like the coast was only a place you get to see once a year. That is just plain stupid. I'm a Florida Cracker. I grew up less that 30 minutes from salt water and 45 minutes to the beach. I could always tell you where the speckled trout were biting, where you could get mullet with a cast net and where you could fill a quart jar with fresh bay scallops if you had a dive mask and some fins. We filled up ice chests with Florida lobsters and barracuda fillets every year in the keys, and camped, hunted, fished and boated from Apalachicola on the west coast to Matanzas inlet on the east.

If you live in Florida you are never more than about 50 to 55 miles from the coast and salt water. About an hours drive will get you there from anywhere in the state. It took me six and a half hours to get there. There is no excuse for that. I'll admit sitting on the beach looking out into open water, listening to the sound of the surf breaking on the shore and breathing in the smell of the coast is worth the drive. In fact, it's worth driving a lot further than that for the experience. But it doesn't make sense for someone who loves it as much as I do to have have to drive that far when it is in my ability to live closer to it. Why have I not seen this before like I'm clearly seeing it now? I used to call folks like me "eat up with the dumb ass".

In some of my recent posts I've talked about taking responsibility for your choices. Well "shazam", why am I not doing that to my potential? Because it's easier to preach it than do it that's why. Well, now it's my turn.

So after several days of self evaluation, consideration, thanksgiving and medication I've come up with a Belated New Year's Resolution; I'm going to put all I have into getting to where I want to be instead of blaming all the things I don't like for keeping me from getting there. I'm stating it publicly so I'll have witnesses. I want you to to hold me to this. Remind me of it. Ask me how the plan is working. Keep me accountable. I've wasted too much valuable time already. Lord willing I'm moving closer to the seashore. You know, come to think of it I think He may have liked the coast as much as I do.

Waiting For Success

2008-05-20T20:44:00.005-05:00

Earlier today I spent a long time sitting in the waiting room at the Doctor's office. A lot of things can go through your mind while you're sitting in a waiting room. I try not to just sit there. It can be a real waste of time. I was trying to accomplish something. I was considering things.

So, I was sitting in the waiting room reading Men's Health and thinking about Abraham Lincoln. And about how many times I could remember his name being brought up in sales pitches I've heard from multi-level marketing people. How he had to support his family after they were forced out of their home; failed in business; how he wanted to go to law school but couldn't get in, and failed at almost everything else he tried to do until finally becoming President in 1860.

The lady sitting next to me out of nowhere says, "Is my wallet in your car?" and I look up and see two people (a man and a woman) across from me looking at her and then at me. We looked at each other with a who is she talking to? expression and then all realized the lady next to me is on a cell phone. I didn't hear it ring or see her reach for it. She didn't say anything before that.

Many of the "facts" circulated about the failures of Abraham Lincoln aren't true. And many of the truths about Lincoln have been twisted into a sort of "anyone can make it" inspirational. Have you ever received the "Abraham Lincoln Didn't Quit" list by email? Even though much of that list and much of what is repeated about Lincoln is inaccurate his life is still a great example of what can be accomplished by perseverance. The point is that in spite of the focus on all of Lincoln's "failures before success" story, a list of the things that he actually accomplished is very impressive. Spend some time researching his life and you'll find he succeeded at a lot of things he tried and wasn't personally responsible for some of things in which he was involved that failed.

The lady next to me says, "He wasn't breathing this morning, they had to turn the machine up. No he wasn't breathing, they had to turn up the machine. He wasn't breathing." I looked at the other two people this time they just looked at each other. She's not talking at all before she says this. She's not answering the phone. She's calling someone and beginning the conversion.

Regardless of what you think about Lincoln's performance while he was President, it was his "don't give up" attitude; his ability to learn from his mistakes; stick to it drive that got him there.

The lady say's, "You have to help me get to Kentucky after my Doctors appointment." I didn't look up this time. The nurse came out about the same time and announced a name, the woman across from me got up and followed the nurse. The man across from me (the husband of the woman called) was out the front door of the Doctor's office before his wife was out of sight. He didn't come back while I was there.

All those years of tough times, failure and success. Lessons learned and not forgotten. During all those years leading up to becoming President of the United States Abraham Lincoln was practicing. Practicing and preparing for the success that comes from staying with it and not giving up.

Remember it was Lincoln's Gettysburg Address at the dedication of the National Cemetery at Gettysburg that became the most quoted speech in history. Edward Everette the great orator who was actually the keynote speaker at the dedication and spoke for two hours said of Lincoln's two minute speech, "I should be glad if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion, in two hours, as you did in two minutes."

People who are consistently successful did not become successful by sitting around waiting on their success. They were practicing it all through those times when it looked like they were going nowhere.

"Oh, Lord my feet hurt." No, not mine, the lady next to me just made another call.

We All Have Our Tattoos

2008-05-14T10:00:00.000-05:00

I have a tattoo on my right shoulder. It's up pretty high on the outside of my arm where you can't see it even when I'm wearing a short sleeved T-shirt. It's a red heart supported by wings. It wraps about half way around my upper arm. Written inside the heart is the name of my beautiful once in a lifetime dream wife.

A discussion about tattoos will usually bring out a variety of opinions depending on who's listening. It is not my intention now to haggle all the pros and cons of tattoos or to impose any moral or religious judgements about someone who has one. I may get into that down the road (if I don't become just an ink stain on the highway).

When I say "tattoo" you immediately know what I'm talking about. You instantly form a picture in you mind. The same thing happens when you see someone who has one. Our notions about things like that are often quick to surface. Just a casual mention or a picture conjures up all kind of thoughts.

Like the one on my arm, some tattoos are hidden most of the time. Only a few folks have ever seen mine. If I hadn't told you about it you wouldn't have known it was there. You wouldn't have thought about me differently one way or the other. At least not based on the tattoo. But now that you do know, you may already be starting to form an opinion of me. That's okay. Depending on your view you may think it's cool or that I'm a fool (or worse).

What I want to suggest is that there are some things about us; whether we know it or not, whether we want to admit it or not, that are as visible a mark of who we are as if it were inked on our foreheads. Spend time around someone. Notice who they are. Get a feel for their presence. Listen to what they say. Pay attention to the details.

Surprising how many things are visibly inked on us that we don't realize. So many things about us that we show off every day to countless people in countless ways without ever taking the time to look in the mirror. One of the things you and me could to do a much better job of is being more aware and able to spot our own tattoos. The ones other people so clearly see without us ever having to roll up our sleeves.

You see, we all have our tattoos.

Church Offerings & Tax Rebates

2008-05-13T08:37:00.003-05:00

Do you keep cancelled checks from your church offering as receipts for end of year tax credits? Does your church offer receipts for cash or other contributions members make to the church? Many church members keep very detailed records of their contributions for income tax credit purposes. Some are very open about it. Others are quiet on the subject. Whether you do or not isn't really any of my business is it? Nope, not really. However, I did hear a conversation the other day that reminded me that I wanted to make a short post about what I think about it. That and the fact that I did stay at a Holiday Inn once is reason enough to go on.

Why do you need to keep a receipt for this? I'm personally unable to come to the conclusion that somehow I'm qualified for or owed a rebate for a contribution I make as a free will offering to the church.

Lets see, before the foundation of the world God predestined me, an undeserving sinner, to a perfect eternal inheritance in heaven in spite of my unworthiness. And it was out of a love so magnificent that he was willing to see the blood of his only Son poured out on the cross so that I might have it. So now that I know I am a recipient of God's great plan I can justify figuring a way to get credit for it. Sorry, I don't get it. I don't have a right to anything from God. I count it a privilege by way of his grace that I'm even considered in his eternal plan for our salvation. And I am so very thankful for that.

Peter wrote about our salvation:
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

Concerning this salvation, the prophets who prophesied about the grace that was to be yours searched and inquired carefully, inquiring what person or time the Spirit of Christ in them was indicating when he predicted the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories. It was revealed to them that they were serving not themselves but you, in the things that have now been announced to you through those who preached the good news to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven, things into which angels long to look. (1 Peter 1:3-12 ESV)

God doesn't owe me anything after what He's already done. I owe him. More than I can ever pay. In my mind I seem to get further behind in my payments every day and yet every day he still gives me another chance to start over, put yesterday behind and try to do better.

Micah said of God:
Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity
and passing over transgression
for the remnant of his inheritance?
He does not retain his anger forever,
because he delights in steadfast love.
(Micah 7:18 ESV)

I couldn't look the mail carrier in the face if I knew he was handing me a letter from the IRS containing a tax rebate that came as a result of credits I had claimed from something that is clearly (at least to me) just part of my obligation to God.

Seems to me that would be like a preacher called on to offer a prayer before a meal with friends at Cracker Barrel. Since he's a preacher, he was 'working' while he offered the prayer so now he gets to write the meal off as a business expense.

Each of us must decide things like this based on our individual understanding and conviction. For some, this subject may not have priority on the list of things to be concerned about. On my list it's up near the top. I'm really trying to see a bigger picture about how I understand God. And about how I imagine he sees me based on how I consider things and how consistant I am in the way I consider those things. I hope thinking about things like this will help me not miss the opportunity of being included in a bigger picture I didn't understand simply because I spent my time thinking about ways I could get credit for the artwork.

You Can't Get there from here

2008-05-09T08:57:00.005-05:00

I used to say that all the time. You know, someone you don't know from out of town asks you for directions to an attraction or some local point of interest, and you say, "You can't get there from here", and proceed to ask them where they came from. When they tell wherever that is, you let them know that they'll have to go back there and start over. I can't tell you how many times I've done that. To me, watching the expression on someones face who believes that you are serious in telling them that is funny. OK, I think it's really funny.

Well, for some reason I've been thinking more about that statement lately than I have in a long time. And as usual I've got to find other applications. So, here goes. I think there really are some places that you can't get to from here. Here; I mean where you are now. Some places can only be reached by going back to where you are from and starting over. The end of a dead end road is the end of a dead end road. Unless you turn around and find out where you made the wrong turn that led you there, you'll spend a lot of time on a road to nowhere.

Some folks are perfectly content on a dead end road. That's because when they turned onto it they discovered other people on it who also hadn't yet figured out it was a dead end. Not taking the time to go further (that many folks can't be lost) they went back to the turn off and started putting up signs that read: "This Way". Now, the traffic on the road isn't moving (it's a dead end) but that's overlooked because everyone is spending all their time confirming each others wise choice to turn at the "This Way" sign. What if the very first person who turned onto that dead end road just made a wrong turn?

Maybe rethinking your present location (circumstance) is a good idea. You've made a lot of turns. Some good, some not so good. All those turns, while not always leading directly to the place you thought you were going, are certainly useful if you consider what you've discovered by making them. Don't ever forget where you've been. All the turns you've made, no matter where you wound up by taking them, are tremendous learning experiences. What are you doing with them?

There are fabulous destinations you haven't yet reached. Places and things and experiences that you will only see if you can figure out how you got to where you are. So the idea is to do all that you can to understand who you are, how you became you, and how you can become the person that you were intended to be. And that person isn't limited to following "This Way" signs being held up by people standing on dead end roads. You may have to unlearn some things you thought were true and learn some things that are true you thought were not. Just please don't stop learning.

So, make your own applications if you see any. If you can't, at least try to keep thinking about it. Because if you stop thinking, you might find out "You can't get there from here."

Bikers Wreak Havok At Local Bar & Grill

2008-05-06T06:25:00.005-05:00

I love chicken wings. On Monday nights a nearby Bar & Grill offers chicken wings for 25 cents each. All you can eat. My wife and I heard about this deal several weeks ago and last night the timing was right to try some. We headed out.

As we pulled into the parking lot the very first thing we noticed was the presence of probably forty or fifty Harley Davidson motorcycles parked near the front entrance. Milling around the bikes were fifteen or so leather jacket clad, tattoo looking, braided hair, bearded, tough guy characters doing that "Hey, nice bike dude" thing. You know what that means; noise, profane language and drunks. Should we even go in?

The establishment, although conveniently located near major interstate access is somewhat isolated along a lonely road. What you might call, out in the sticks. So our greeting at the parking lot, at dusk, on a road seldom traveled after dark was less than inviting. We wanted some chicken wings. So against our better judgement we decided to stay.

We walked past the parked Harleys and through the cigarette smoke with our best "Yeah man, that's our Taurus, its an 01" look on our face and went inside. Inside we found what appeared to be the rest of the biker world converging for a combination gang meeting and sombrero wearing Cinco de Mayo celebration. Remember Road House?

The usual "Wait for hostess" sign was located just inside the door. We looked at each other, we looked at the sign, we looked at the chains and leather and waited. Maybe two minutes went by and a young lady in a server apron came up to us and said: "Are yall waitin' to be seated?" I acknowledged that indeed we were. She said: "You don't have to wait to be seated". I let her know I had read the sign. She immediately came back with: "Don't pay any attention to that sign, You can sit anywhere you want". Realizing I somehow should have known that, I spotted an empty booth in the main dining area and we headed for it. There's also is an adjacent bar area but it looked pretty full, and you know, like a bar, so we decided to share the dining area with the Hell's Angels.

We placed our wing and drink order and before long realized we were in the middle of a local H.O.G. gathering. H.O.G. is for; Harley Owners Group. There was a big screen video showing an introduction to HOG stuff. A very biker looking guy with a microphone was speaking to the group. It was hard not notice the activity. We realized it seemed to be organized and the group was pretty quiet overall. But there were some big outlaw looking guys with tattoos wearing big sombreros and some women who seemed perfectly at home with all that so, needless to say, the atmosphere was still somewhat intimidating. We were sure that it wouldn't be long before somebody busted a beer bottle over an unsuspecting bald head. Since we were seated so close to biker heaven it was impossible not to hear everything going on in the gang.

There were only two other guests besides us in the dining room that didn't appear to be part of the biker group and they headed over to the bar side after they finished their meal.

The waitress brought our order. A pretty big pile of wings. They were very good. As we commented to each other how much we liked them we were interrupted by the biker with the mic calling on one of the group members to lead a prayer before they began eating. We felt obligated to bow our heads as the prayer was offered because we had failed to acknowledge and thank God for our blessings before we started our meal.

As nearly a hundred bikers wolfed down, I mean ate their meals; different members were called on to give reports about local and regional activities their group is involved in. The leader of the meeting apologized for getting started a little late. He would have been on time but had to drop his son off at a Boyscout meeting. Several members spoke about the work the members were doing raising money for MDA (Muscular Dystrophy Association). They were encouraging each other to continue in the good work and reported some impressive results. One member reminded everyone that the next meeting would be at a Methodist church in the area before they would ride to Huntsville for supper.

For over and hour all we heard were positive statements, a little good humor and plans for upcoming events and meetings from a group of really decent folks enjoying each other's company. How disappointing. No cops, no swearing, no broken windows. Just a group of folks like you and me who share a different lifestyle.

The meeting ended at the same time my wife and I were finishing our meal. As we headed out, a big burly leathery tattoo looking biker dude stopped, held the door, and allowed us to go out ahead of him. There are two exit doors. I thanked him and held the second one for him. He thanked me. I smiled for twenty feet.

Isn't it sad how quick we are to judge folks purely on outward appearance and our preconceived notions of them. In how many situations, in how many areas of our life are we guilty of that? How would you fare if someone like you, judged you, as impartially as you judge?

As we walked to our car I was kinda hoping I might hear someone yell: "Nice Taurus dude". It didn't happen but that was OK. It was still a very pleasurable experience.

I love chicken wings.

What If You Forget Your Lines?

2008-04-29T21:21:00.003-05:00

My wife shared a dream with me this morning that she's had on and off over the last several years. Without compromising the specific connections between her life circumstances and the dream, I want to tell you about it because you might be able to make personal application by considering some of the dreams' implications. If on the other hand, you don't see any application at all; you've obviously misplaced your thinking cap, need to find it, and you need to put it back on.

The dream is about how my wife is a character in a play. When it comes time for her to speak her lines she can't remember them. The director scolds her about it. She's embarrassed and feels terrible that she doesn't know her lines. She knows she's been practicing her lines and feels like she should be ready to say them but just can't remember. It is a very frustrating dream. It's the kind of dream, that even while dreaming it, you are thinking how much you want to wake up so you can escape from it. Well, maybe there's and upside.

Sometimes feeling that you've forgotten your lines may be a subconscious realization that the lines you've been repeating over and over just don't make sense to you anymore. Maybe you have come to a place in your life where you are understanding that you've become dependent on memorized lines as a measure of competence or completeness. I think it's possible to become so dependent on a script that you get to the point where the script replaces your life. Or at least parts of it.

Some years ago I was a living history interpreter for the Florida Park Service at Fort Foster; it is an authentic replica of a Seminole War era military post. The fort sits on the location where the original installation was constructed during the Second Seminole Indian War in the 1830s. From Thursday through Sunday it was my job to live the life of Private Wiley Sanders; Second Artillery Co. A, United States Army and convey that life in 'First Person Interpretation' to visitors and tour groups. Four days a week I was living my life according to a script. I put my own personality into it but it was still a script. We wanted the visitor to understand specific aspects of life as witnessed by a soldier in 1830s Florida. So the story had to be interpreted without leaving the lines and characters we had spent so much time creating and refining. I remember telling new interpreters who were being introduced into the program: "You can't re-write Shakespeare." It was a play. Some of the tour audience returned again and again memorizing the spiel and requesting their favorite stories.

It was quite difficult some Monday mornings to return from 1837 and re-enter my real world responsibilities. I found it hard to talk without sounding like Wiley. Sometimes I had to force myself to turn the spiel off.

Imagine if I had just stayed at the fort and lived 1837 over and over. And then one day, I forgot my lines. Panic! I don't know what to do because Wiley Sanders can't remember his lines. You see, it's not me anymore. I've become Private Wiley Sanders, Company A, Second Artillery, United States Army.

Maybe you've had the dream about forgetting your lines. Maybe it's time to realize that you've been wanting to write your own lines for a long time but didn't have the confidence. Well, you've got experience, you've worked with some difficult directors and now is the time to put all those years of practice to work. If you don't you will be forever asking: "Who gets to pick?", and it won't be you.

What if you forget your lines? Well, be thankful for the great reminder and opportunity to realize the lines you forgot were only written for a character in a play; your life is not a play to be lived by reciting someone else's script. Your life is about taking responsibility in living it according to your lines of understanding. With all the practice you've had quoting, you're now ready to start writing. If somehow, you can see that you've been blessed by God with your life, with wisdom, knowledge, conscience, boundaries and the freedom to live out all that because of His grace, you'll be amazed at where that realization can take you.

So. What if you forget your lines? You may be surprised to find that the audience enjoys your character a whole lot more now that it is you speaking and not the script.

Have you got a dream and can't figure it out? Send a narrative of you your dream to me, Pete and I'll interpret it for you. Please include your mailing address. You'll be billed $14.95. Discounts may apply to individuals with multiple dreams, although multiple personalities will be charged individually. :-)

I Sure Am Sorry To Hear That

2008-04-24T22:00:00.008-05:00

Have you ever listened to someone praying publicly and cringed because the words you were hearing and the personal knowledge you had of the individual praying were so opposed to each other that you couldn't believe what you were hearing? How could they be praying that? How could someone who has an ongoing record of impropriety in family, business, in the community and even in the church be leading us as we enter into conversation with Almighty God?

In Luke 18 Jesus tells a parable about two men praying:

9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: 10 “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ 13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
(Luke 18:9-14 ESV)

Read the parable closely. We don't hear prayers today where the hypocrite publicly expresses what a great guy he is. Today we have a whole new breed of hypocrite. The new model gives us a different prayer. The example of prayer I'm talking about is not one in which the hypocrite prays: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.' I'm talking about a hypocrite who prays like he's the justified tax collector: 'God be merciful to me, a sinner' and then after church services goes right back to being the hypocrite he was when he got there. No effort to change who or what he is . No effort to separate himself from a lifestyle contrary to the one Christ died for him to have. Just a public appearance that (I guess) is supposed to remind him and everyone else how righteous he is and make him feel better about being the hypocrite he is Monday through Saturday.

Look, I know we are all sinners. But isn't the idea to try to be less of one? If we're praying for God's mercy and for his grace and thanking him for his blessings and letting him know in our prayer how much we want to glorify him; how can we possibly think that act alone fixes , excuses or ignores all the things about us that are contrary to God? You know, all those things that we refuse to fess up to.

It seems to me that we have developed an attitude that is very precise in identifying every flaw in other people and very quick in sweeping our own under a rug.

The person you are all week is the same one you bring to church on Sunday. Walking into the building, making comments in the bible study class, serving the Lord's Supper, leading a prayer or putting $50 in the collection doesn't change that. What changes you is you. Your willingness to honestly look at who you are and realize that you only exist because of God's grace. If you want to amount to anything it's up to you. And if you aren't concerned about who you really are, about growing and becoming what you can be in God's view, you're not amounting to much.

When you pray, think about who's really praying, what you are saying and about who's listening. Imagine who might be thinking: "I sure am sorry to hear that".

Excuse Me, Is That A Gator In The Kitchen?

2008-04-22T23:30:00.004-05:00

Reading the news report of the 8' alligator that made its way in the back door and into the kitchen of a lady's house in Florida brought back lots of memories. I grew up in Florida and lived there over forty years. I hope to live there again one day. Living in Alabama now, I always read with amusement stories about downtown alligators, walking catfish, exotic snakes, giant frogs; you know all the things that made growing up there interesting. All the things that make people who aren't from there say: "Your crazy if you think I'd live down there".

You see, if you grew up in Florida, if you're a real "Florida Cracker" you don't get real excited when you hear about those things. Well, OK, maybe a little, but only because hearing about it reminds you of the fun times you had living with that stuff.

So, from time to time I'm hope to re-visit a lot of those days in this blog. Everything from swimming with alligators, keeping rattlesnakes in the freezer, and seeing building projects shut down because macak monkeys were chasing the construction workers.

Man, those were the days.

Two Sparrows

2008-04-21T09:15:00.002-05:00

Have you ever looked out toward the horizon at some distant object and wondered how far away it might be? Maybe you've been to the coast and off in the distance you could see a ship just barely in sight.

If you've taken a vacation and driven out west you've probably had the experience of looking ahead to a mountain range and thinking it was only a few miles away. You know you'll be to it in a little while, but after driving all day, and then most of the next day you're still not there. When you do finally reach the mountains those trees you saw in the distance have turned out to be rocks. You are now looking up at a mountain a mile high that yesterday, at a distance looked about three inches tall. And there are houses and people on it that you didn't even consider when you viewed it from afar.

The ship on the horizon may be several hundred feet long. At about three miles (approximate distance to the horizon from the beach) it looks tiny. You can tell it's a ship but it impossible to make out any detail. You know there's a crew on board but you can't see them. You'll have to use your imagination.

An object on the horizon hundreds of feet long, but appearing very small two or three miles out, is relatively close to you. Close when you consider that the earth is 7,926 miles in diameter.

One night after dark, go outside and look up into the sky. The closest celestial body we can see is the moon. The moon is 238,000 miles from the earth. It is 2,160 miles in diameter. If you could drive to it averaging 70 mph it would take 142 days or 3400 hrs to get there. Imagine the telescope it would take to spot that ship on the horizon if it were as far away as the moon.

Our solar system includes the Sun, and the eight planets and Pluto that revolve around it. The planets are identified according to their distance from the sun. On the Earth we find ourselves third closest to the Sun.

The Sun is 93,000,000 miles from the Earth. It is 865,000 miles in diameter (109 times larger than Earth) and still looks small from our distance from it. Driving at 70 mph it would take 1,328571 hrs, 55,357 days or 151 years to get there.

Pluto (reclassified in 2006 as a dwarf planet) is 3,679 million miles from the Sun. We know it's there but we can't see it with our eyes alone. We need a telescope.

These tremendous distances and dimensions are all confined to our solar system. Science tells us that there are many solar systems made up of millions of stars and planets.

The next closest star to the Sun is 25,000,000,000,000 (trillion) miles away. Some stars are so far away that although they burned up years ago their light is just now getting to us. 25,000,000,000,000! There's not room for the digits of that number to be entered into the calculator on my desk. I can't even imagine how far that is. We have to calculate distances that great by using light years. That's how many years it would take light to get somewhere. Light travels at 186,300 miles per second.

It takes the Sun 225,000,000 years, travelling at 156 miles per second to orbit the galaxy. That is 4.3 light years to make just one orbit.

I'm 5'10" tall. I don't know how tall you are but try to imagine in the midst of the space, time and distance encompassed by the universe how insignificant we must be in relation to all that.

Surely the writer of Psalm 8 must have been thinking his place in this great creation when he wrote:

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?
Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You have given him dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under his feet, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the heavens, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the seas. O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! (Psalm 8:3-9 ESV)

Or as the psalmist puts it:

He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names.
Great is our Lord, and abundant in power; his understanding is beyond measure.
( Psalm 147:4-5 ESV)

The Bible says in John 3:16: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life."

Consider what Paul wrote: "but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us". (Romans 5:8 ESV)

Listen to the apostle speak about God's love for us:

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father,
from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named,

that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being,

so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love,

may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth,

and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us,

to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.(Ephesians 3:14-21 ESV)

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.(Romans 8:38-39 ESV)

There have been times in my life when I felt lost, confused, insignificant and hopeless. Maybe you have too. Well, that's when we need go outside and look up in the night sky to remember that in the midst of our trials and tests and difficulties we have a Father in Heaven who loves us and cares for us and counts us alone in all his unimaginable creation important enough to say:

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. (Matthew 10:29-30 ESV)

How can we not feel better after thinking about that?

Today's Special

2008-04-21T08:02:00.007-05:00

Alabama Arby's first in nation to add full elec. & water hook-ups in Drive - Thru.

Who Are These People And Where Do They Live?

2008-04-18T08:01:00.006-05:00

Spent a few years living in a very small town in Alabama. Life in a small town can be interesting. For the folks that grow up and live in a small town life is often viewed as quiet, peaceful, full of friends, family and good memories. Although I'm from a big town I like the idea of living in a small town. I think the idea part is actually better than the living there part unless you are originally from the small town you live in.

When people use the term 'small town' they may be referring to the size of the town in area. It might be a reference to population. Or, maybe they mean there's just not much going on there. Sometimes 'small town' means that it is a place lost in a time warp where outsiders are unwelcome , visitors are viewed with suspicion, and the local greeting, "You ain't from around here are you?" may not be stated but is certainly implied. More about that last idea in future posts.

Anyway, I needed to mail a letter to some folks who had recently moved into town. I went to the post office, picked up some stamps, stuck one on the envelope and handed the letter to the attendant at the counter. Nice lady, she took the letter and said the route carrier had not yet left with that day's outgoing mail and she would see to it that my letter would be delivered that day. I smiled, thanked her and was on my way.

Just as I was about to get in my truck the mail carrier came running out to the parking lot and yelled, "Hey, wait a minute. I have a problem with this letter". I said, 'Yes ma'am, what is the problem?'. She asked very matter-of-factly while looking down at the letter, "Who are these people and where do they live?"

I looked at her for a few seconds, realized she was serious and replied, "They are the folks who's names appear on the front of the envelope and they live at the address printed right under their names". I'm not making this up. Not being very pleased with my response (I'm sure she thought she had asked a valid question) she turned and walked away. While she was still in voice range I suggested that she might want to try finding their phone number so she could call and ask them where they lived.

Encounters like this only happen in small towns. That is part of what makes them interesting. It may also be in part what keeps them small. During the time I lived in this little town events like the one at the post office would be commonplace. This is the same town where reading the residents' water meters required two people because one had to stay in the truck with a foot on the accelerator pedal to keep it from stalling.

Who are these people and where do they live? Maybe they're just some folks that live in a small town.

Measure Twice Cut Once

2008-04-17T22:29:00.005-05:00

I remembered an old adage (Measure twice , cut once) while cutting the stiles and rails for some picture frames I'm building. The idea is that you'll waste less material and time if you double-check the measurements you are using before your final cut. Failure to do so can also result in another situation I'm very familiar with, "...cut it off three times and it's still too short".

While the application seems immediately suited to construction; sawing off the end of a board, replacing a counter top, cutting a piece of glass for a window opening, that's not the application that came to mind and caused me to turn my saw off for a few minutes.

It occurred to me that in my life I've spent a huge amount of time re-cutting, re-shaping, re-learning so many things, not because I didn't have what I thought were the correct measurements at the time, but because I was content to use someone else's yardstick while never really learning to measure some things for myself. It is much easier that way isn't it? When the plans don't work out quite right it really isn't my fault. After all, I got the measurements from somebody else. Well, when it comes to shower curtain rods or tomato stakes it's not a big deal. But if we're talking about life changing subjects and decisions, decided using someone else's measurements, we could be in for a world of hurts.

Surprising how many seemingly intelligent folks are living their life using the measurements of others as their own standard for; faith, happiness, success, political choice, failure, morality, spirituality and Godliness. That's sad because that means they are probably also using those same standards to determine the condition and worth of others, of you and me in those same categories.

I don't mean to say that we should totally discount or reject everyone's standard of measurement other than our own. What I mean is none are above being checked for accuracy. Some people try to impose the idea that there has to be a universal standard (in the same sense that twelve inches equal a foot) imposed in areas where individual understanding, responsibility and choice is necessary. Imagine the confusion that results in trying to live according to a standard set for you by someone who never really understood it and blindly accepted it in the first place. The bewildered guiding the confused. Each handing over their own maps to the other for direction.

I knew a fellow who could not read or write, except for his first name which he printed ever so slowly on the back of his paycheck before he cashed it at the end of the week. But oh, how he could count and measure. On payday, he would take the old Lufkin folding rule out of a back pocket and somehow using it as a sort of slide rule he could tell you to the penny (including overtime hours worked) how much his pay would be. When he received his pay he would look at the numbers on the check and compare them with his rule sliding his thumb back and forth along the scale until he was satisfied all was in order.

If in your life you are living and planning using measurements you've never questioned or honestly taken the time to check for accuracy, how can you claim ownership? You are working on somebody else's project.

If nothing else, learn how to measure. Learn how to measure and then be bold enough to take responsibility for the cut you are making. That ability will really come in handy on payday.

Today's Special

2008-04-16T08:27:00.008-05:00

Took this picture in front of Shoney's.

I think this must work like Pet of the Week at the vet's office.

Underway

2008-04-12T19:19:00.004-05:00

I've wanted to have a blog for a long time. But not until right now have I been able to get past the idea that I may not have anything interesting to blog about. Nothing at least, that would be interesting enough for someone else to read. However, after personally reading countless posts by folks who have been blogging for years, have huge followings and mostly blog about things that bore me, I've come to the conclusion that the idea of having "something interesting" to write about is relative. What you and I find interesting may be considered a complete waste of time by another. So, I'll write about things that interest me. If other folks tune in and relate then all the better. If not, at least I'll be interested in (at least some of) the things I think about. The biggest thing for me though, in posting this blog will be getting over the fear of actually writing publicly what I think about. More than anything else, that is what this is all about.

So, I'm underway and hope to soon find a route to open water. Hopefully this journey will not be abandoned because of sandspurs, reefs or the hostile natives often found bordering the most scenic seashores. I hope I'll see you at some of my stops. You're welcome to come aboard and gam a bit.