My wife’s favorite holiday is New Years Eve. The glitz and glamour of this most festive night coupled with the allure and excitement of new beginnings and a universal sense of foresight gives her great pause and allows her a moment of reflection each year. At least that is what she tells me. As for me however, I can’t wait for the ball to drop so I can go to bed, my grand reflection awaiting my next blog entry. Who wants to be up with all the crazies anyway with their fun-loving, song-singing, beer-guzzling tom foolery? New Years Eve also reminds me of a certain little Irish pub I spent weeks of my life in as a marauding college kid with no legible plan for the future. My days in the pub lent themselves to moments of much less personal responsibility, gleeful indiscretion, and Woodpecker cider. Man I miss that cider. I guess one could say New Years Eve reminds me that things inevitably change and as we age certain memories slip further and further into the past until the are hardly memories at all.
In an effort to thwart the phenomenon of change, I am offering all those who have found their way to this obscure, yet horribly well-written blog my thoughts for 2008. I challenge all of you to do the same. In this exercise, you will not only see where you’ve been but what you have become in the year 2008. Care to play along?
On Daily Struggles and Chip-Chip Golf - February 2008
Early this year, I had the opportunity to attend a golf outing in Myrtle Beach. With the fair weather and scenic beauty of South Carolina, I joined a group of co-workers for four days of golf. What a mistake it was. I struggled with the drives, I struggled with the puts, and I struggled with the irons, although I had the chipping down cold. (Maybe I should open a chip-chip golf chain for like-skilled crappy golfers who can chip). I quickly learned if you can’t play golf well in Lexington, KY you probably won’t excel in a beach locale either, be it Myrtle Beach or any other beach on the face of the earth.
I also learned that many times life reflects this bad golfer scenario. No matter how hard a specific task is for us to achieve, others breeze through it with half the effort achieving twice the result. Perhaps not all of us are bad golfers but I surmise that at some point in your life you have faced a stumbling block that seemed insurmountable; a moment of uncertainty, not knowing how the situation should be played or if you could even attempt the task. I believe these situations to be the turning point of life, the moment when our Creator looks down at us questioning our resolve and wondering how we will play the hole. In the end, I played all 72 holes knowing that while I may stink at golf, I am an excellent caddie and cart operator. I also learned that it is in our struggles that we find our passion, our resolve, and our direction.
On Popular Culture’s Strangle Hold on the News – March 2008
In late February 2008, most major news outlets were overly occupied in covering Britney Spears and her litany of exploits and destructive behavior. While Dr. Phil worked feverishly to right her ill-fated ship, many news outlets back-burnered a story involving a U.S. spy satellite, the size of an armored truck, and its projected crash into the United States. The headline read: …”and the chance of the satellite hitting the U.S is slim, now onto other more intriguing stories involving pop culture princesses, designer crack pipes, mobile meth labs, youthful disillusionment, and the like.” Call me crazy, but how can a news agency breeze over the possibility of a spy satellite slamming into the United States while segwaying to the latest Lindsay Lohan saga? In the end, we shot that satellite down demonstrating the finest qualities of our American space programs but I am certain you were not briefed fully on the early March fireworks display; you were tuned into the pregnant man story and his, I mean her new arrival. By the way, he is pregnant again. The news would have it no other way.
Maybe I am naïve or better yet oblivious to the perils of the Universe but when a big ole spy satellite has even the slightest potential to crash into our planet, maybe we should dwell a little more on the satellite and a little less on dismissing it for the latest drug overdose in tinsel town.
On Hay Bailing and Heat Exhaustion and Everything in Between – June 2008
My brother’s father-in-law is a farmer. He is also a mountain of a man with forearms the size of my thighs and hands the size of polar bear paws, only bigger and without the claws and penguin scent. He is furthermore a sweet and kind man which is why I agreed to help him bail hay one bright and sunny June day, along with my brother of course. My decision to become a farm boy for a day was bolstered by my ego in that I figured I could handle any farm task because I had recently taken to lifting weights. Sometimes we write checks our bodies can’t cash…this is that story.
For those of you without the pleasurable experience of bailing hay let me see if I can set the scene. I arrived at the farm in question on a Sunday in late June. It wasn’t your ordinary Sunday in June and as the mercury outside inched past 92 degrees; I began to question my good judgment and forethought in this endeavor. Appropriately clad in hay bailing attire (jeans, boots, t-shirt, long-sleeved button down, hat, glasses, and gloves) I climbed aboard the hay wagon and began my future as a migrant worker in training (MWIT). While the tractor driver (Big John) directed the tractor over miles of cut hay, the bailing machine spit out hay bail after hay bail. It was fine at first, hauling each 40 pound bail to its final resting spot on the 24 foot long trailer, but as the adrenaline wore off and I realized we only had 500 or so more bails and two more trailers in waiting; I lost my ability to cope and about 8 pounds of water through my pores.
After five hours of bailing hay, hauling it across the hay wagon, stacking it 5 tiers high, drinking 7 gallons of water, and looking toward my brother (who at this point had lost all feeling in one arm) for moral support, I learned a few things about myself that I thought I would share.
1. I had no idea that you could shiver in 92 degree heat, wearing two layers of
In an effort to thwart the phenomenon of change, I am offering all those who have found their way to this obscure, yet horribly well-written blog my thoughts for 2008. I challenge all of you to do the same. In this exercise, you will not only see where you’ve been but what you have become in the year 2008. Care to play along?
On Daily Struggles and Chip-Chip Golf - February 2008
Early this year, I had the opportunity to attend a golf outing in Myrtle Beach. With the fair weather and scenic beauty of South Carolina, I joined a group of co-workers for four days of golf. What a mistake it was. I struggled with the drives, I struggled with the puts, and I struggled with the irons, although I had the chipping down cold. (Maybe I should open a chip-chip golf chain for like-skilled crappy golfers who can chip). I quickly learned if you can’t play golf well in Lexington, KY you probably won’t excel in a beach locale either, be it Myrtle Beach or any other beach on the face of the earth.
I also learned that many times life reflects this bad golfer scenario. No matter how hard a specific task is for us to achieve, others breeze through it with half the effort achieving twice the result. Perhaps not all of us are bad golfers but I surmise that at some point in your life you have faced a stumbling block that seemed insurmountable; a moment of uncertainty, not knowing how the situation should be played or if you could even attempt the task. I believe these situations to be the turning point of life, the moment when our Creator looks down at us questioning our resolve and wondering how we will play the hole. In the end, I played all 72 holes knowing that while I may stink at golf, I am an excellent caddie and cart operator. I also learned that it is in our struggles that we find our passion, our resolve, and our direction.
On Popular Culture’s Strangle Hold on the News – March 2008
In late February 2008, most major news outlets were overly occupied in covering Britney Spears and her litany of exploits and destructive behavior. While Dr. Phil worked feverishly to right her ill-fated ship, many news outlets back-burnered a story involving a U.S. spy satellite, the size of an armored truck, and its projected crash into the United States. The headline read: …”and the chance of the satellite hitting the U.S is slim, now onto other more intriguing stories involving pop culture princesses, designer crack pipes, mobile meth labs, youthful disillusionment, and the like.” Call me crazy, but how can a news agency breeze over the possibility of a spy satellite slamming into the United States while segwaying to the latest Lindsay Lohan saga? In the end, we shot that satellite down demonstrating the finest qualities of our American space programs but I am certain you were not briefed fully on the early March fireworks display; you were tuned into the pregnant man story and his, I mean her new arrival. By the way, he is pregnant again. The news would have it no other way.
Maybe I am naïve or better yet oblivious to the perils of the Universe but when a big ole spy satellite has even the slightest potential to crash into our planet, maybe we should dwell a little more on the satellite and a little less on dismissing it for the latest drug overdose in tinsel town.
On Hay Bailing and Heat Exhaustion and Everything in Between – June 2008
My brother’s father-in-law is a farmer. He is also a mountain of a man with forearms the size of my thighs and hands the size of polar bear paws, only bigger and without the claws and penguin scent. He is furthermore a sweet and kind man which is why I agreed to help him bail hay one bright and sunny June day, along with my brother of course. My decision to become a farm boy for a day was bolstered by my ego in that I figured I could handle any farm task because I had recently taken to lifting weights. Sometimes we write checks our bodies can’t cash…this is that story.
For those of you without the pleasurable experience of bailing hay let me see if I can set the scene. I arrived at the farm in question on a Sunday in late June. It wasn’t your ordinary Sunday in June and as the mercury outside inched past 92 degrees; I began to question my good judgment and forethought in this endeavor. Appropriately clad in hay bailing attire (jeans, boots, t-shirt, long-sleeved button down, hat, glasses, and gloves) I climbed aboard the hay wagon and began my future as a migrant worker in training (MWIT). While the tractor driver (Big John) directed the tractor over miles of cut hay, the bailing machine spit out hay bail after hay bail. It was fine at first, hauling each 40 pound bail to its final resting spot on the 24 foot long trailer, but as the adrenaline wore off and I realized we only had 500 or so more bails and two more trailers in waiting; I lost my ability to cope and about 8 pounds of water through my pores.
After five hours of bailing hay, hauling it across the hay wagon, stacking it 5 tiers high, drinking 7 gallons of water, and looking toward my brother (who at this point had lost all feeling in one arm) for moral support, I learned a few things about myself that I thought I would share.
1. I had no idea that you could shiver in 92 degree heat, wearing two layers of
clothes soaking wet with sweat. I’m here to tell you it is entirely possible.
2. Bailing hay is harder than typing on the keyboard. Much harder and dirtier to boot.
3. My brother was right. It is better to drive the tractor than haul the hay. A lot better.
4. Hay will scratch the skin off your arms through long sleeves and work gloves. It will also get in every nook and cranny in your body.
5. For one to write about personal experiences, regardless of their rigorous nature and heat
exhausting effects, one must experience them first.
When the last trailer was loaded and before Big John could rush home for another, I dragged my tired, tattered body to the barn. Before I departed, I was paid $50.00 for my labors as was my brother. And while my brother, being the good-hearted son-in-law he is argued every reason he could not to take the money, I grabbed my fifty bucks, slammed it in my pocket, and took my self to the house without a second thought. I was reminded that an honest days work is worth an honest days wage whether at the keyboard or on the hay wagon. I would like to think I earned that pay check; if not any other in my life…I earned that one. Thanks Big John!
Sampson and the Dishwasher, a Marley and Me Moment – October 2008
For those who know me well know Sampson at least a little. Whether or not you like Sampson is an entirely different story. Sampson is a 100 pound Boxer cut from the same cloth of Grogan’s beloved Marley; a larger than life canine with boundless energy, endless licks, and the temperament of a happy loon. Sampson is, for all intense and purposes, a very loyal companion for me and my family, my partner in crime (PIC) if you will and my love for this dog goes way beyond the salient nature of any typical man-dog relationship. With all his flaws aside, he is, without a doubt, unavoidably perfect…except when he is possessed by Marley.
In August of this year, we replaced our aging dishwasher with a new snazzy model from the local appliance store. With our new buttons, we push and poke our way to crystal clean dishes that come out dry as a bone. This was, at least until Sampson imposed his will on the new machine one late October evening. As I was diligently performing my husbandly duties of loading the dishwasher, Sampson had wandered up for a closer look. Now for all you dog people out there, I’m certain you know what he was up too, for everyone else, he was licking the dirty dishes, as was his habit. No worries, lick away right. Not Sam, not this night.
Attempting to recreate the scene, Sam must have ventured a little too far into the dishwasher and as he retreated his collar caught on the bottom tray, dishes loaded and ready to roll. Now most dogs, when facing a collar tug and with their PIC at their side might whimper or paw at your leg, heck, some would run and get little Timmy for help, but not Sam. No Sam goes ape. All of a sudden, with the might of a polar bear (sorry Big John), Sam rears back and heaves the bottom dish rack 5 feet in the air, successfully dislodging it from his collar. In the meantime and as dishes are crashing around me at a feverish clip, Sam releases a scent comparable to rotten tomatoes in the summer sun on the pantry door. When the final dish landed in pieces and the dishwasher rack lay in ruins, Sam stared up at me as if to say…Whew…That was close. Me, I felt a little less relieved, a little more enraged, and the slight pain of shredded glass stabbing my pinkie toe inside my sandal.
As I bled profusely I cleaned up the kitchen and was reminded that dishwashers and dishes are replaceable but the love of a slightly askew, overly eager, majorly skittish dog like Sampson is but one in a million. Okay, perhaps this epiphany took awhile to build, but it did nevertheless leaving me with a Marley and Me moment to add to my scrapbook. Samuel Butler once quipped "The great pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you,but he will make a fool of himself too.” Perhaps in this case one should say vice versa, right Sam?
On Politics, Elections, and Slights of Hand – November 2008
The United States of America made history as we elected Barack Obama President in November of 2008. While I share nary a viewpoint of similarity with the president-elect, I applaud the American political process of peaceful transitions in government through elections. And while I look back at the election that will become noteworthy for producing the first African-American president and a near democratic super majority in Congress, I wonder where the all the conservatives have gone. Perhaps they have gone the way of the martyr, leaving all fibers of belief behind for a neo-conservative mentality absent any reflection of the once strong party of self-control, personal empowerment, moral affluence, and small government.
In my last blog prior to the election I made some bold predictions. I predicted:
1. John McCain’s decision to distance himself from George Bush will cost him votes from a
When the last trailer was loaded and before Big John could rush home for another, I dragged my tired, tattered body to the barn. Before I departed, I was paid $50.00 for my labors as was my brother. And while my brother, being the good-hearted son-in-law he is argued every reason he could not to take the money, I grabbed my fifty bucks, slammed it in my pocket, and took my self to the house without a second thought. I was reminded that an honest days work is worth an honest days wage whether at the keyboard or on the hay wagon. I would like to think I earned that pay check; if not any other in my life…I earned that one. Thanks Big John!
Sampson and the Dishwasher, a Marley and Me Moment – October 2008
For those who know me well know Sampson at least a little. Whether or not you like Sampson is an entirely different story. Sampson is a 100 pound Boxer cut from the same cloth of Grogan’s beloved Marley; a larger than life canine with boundless energy, endless licks, and the temperament of a happy loon. Sampson is, for all intense and purposes, a very loyal companion for me and my family, my partner in crime (PIC) if you will and my love for this dog goes way beyond the salient nature of any typical man-dog relationship. With all his flaws aside, he is, without a doubt, unavoidably perfect…except when he is possessed by Marley.
In August of this year, we replaced our aging dishwasher with a new snazzy model from the local appliance store. With our new buttons, we push and poke our way to crystal clean dishes that come out dry as a bone. This was, at least until Sampson imposed his will on the new machine one late October evening. As I was diligently performing my husbandly duties of loading the dishwasher, Sampson had wandered up for a closer look. Now for all you dog people out there, I’m certain you know what he was up too, for everyone else, he was licking the dirty dishes, as was his habit. No worries, lick away right. Not Sam, not this night.
Attempting to recreate the scene, Sam must have ventured a little too far into the dishwasher and as he retreated his collar caught on the bottom tray, dishes loaded and ready to roll. Now most dogs, when facing a collar tug and with their PIC at their side might whimper or paw at your leg, heck, some would run and get little Timmy for help, but not Sam. No Sam goes ape. All of a sudden, with the might of a polar bear (sorry Big John), Sam rears back and heaves the bottom dish rack 5 feet in the air, successfully dislodging it from his collar. In the meantime and as dishes are crashing around me at a feverish clip, Sam releases a scent comparable to rotten tomatoes in the summer sun on the pantry door. When the final dish landed in pieces and the dishwasher rack lay in ruins, Sam stared up at me as if to say…Whew…That was close. Me, I felt a little less relieved, a little more enraged, and the slight pain of shredded glass stabbing my pinkie toe inside my sandal.
As I bled profusely I cleaned up the kitchen and was reminded that dishwashers and dishes are replaceable but the love of a slightly askew, overly eager, majorly skittish dog like Sampson is but one in a million. Okay, perhaps this epiphany took awhile to build, but it did nevertheless leaving me with a Marley and Me moment to add to my scrapbook. Samuel Butler once quipped "The great pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you,but he will make a fool of himself too.” Perhaps in this case one should say vice versa, right Sam?
On Politics, Elections, and Slights of Hand – November 2008
The United States of America made history as we elected Barack Obama President in November of 2008. While I share nary a viewpoint of similarity with the president-elect, I applaud the American political process of peaceful transitions in government through elections. And while I look back at the election that will become noteworthy for producing the first African-American president and a near democratic super majority in Congress, I wonder where the all the conservatives have gone. Perhaps they have gone the way of the martyr, leaving all fibers of belief behind for a neo-conservative mentality absent any reflection of the once strong party of self-control, personal empowerment, moral affluence, and small government.
In my last blog prior to the election I made some bold predictions. I predicted:
1. John McCain’s decision to distance himself from George Bush will cost him votes from a
centrist / right leaning electorate. (They Did)
2. The electorate, including me, does not embrace hard left liberalism even though
the nightly news tells us we do. (Debatable)
3. Most Americans prefer divided government (Even though I don’t). (Guess Not)
4. Americans will resist either a Barack Obama presidency or a filibuster proof Senate.
(Got it half right)
Here’s to hoping for a conservative reemergence in the years to come but in the meantime, I will enjoy my minority status in my political persuasions. After all, as a conscientious objector, 2009 will bring me many contradictable moments for writing and I ensure you that you will find them here. That said, the election of 2008 has taught me that no matter who you are, where you’re from, or what color skin, you can achieve the highest office in the land in the United States of America. All children can now say with a feeling of certainty that they want to be the president when they grow up…just like I did.
As 2008 slips to a close, I leave you with the moments that have marked me in ways necessary for 2009 and beyond. Only God knows our true course but I believe He uses our past to direct our future. This truth is evident in everything I do from bailing hay to comforting a large dog with a gastrointestinal defect. By chronicling these moments, I find myself etching them forever in my memory bank so that the past does not erase their clarity. I leave you with one final challenge. If you have made it to this point, (my dear wife may not apply) I urge you to click the leave a comment button, put in your information, (could be anonymous) and leave me one experience that you have had in 2008 that you want to chronicle for years to come. I will read them with anticipation as together, our experiences equal the lives we live, the people we embody, and the souls we squeeze. May 2009 find you well and lead you in ways only God can foresee. Just some thoughts and thanks for reading!
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