Auburn Yankee

Things I will miss about Alabama

2013-03-04T09:30:00.001-05:00

We left Alabama.

Wife got a job back up north. In New Jersey, outside of Atlantic City.

I wasn't ready to leave yet. It was too soon. I was only barely just beginning to incorporate the pace of life into my own rhythms, make them a real part of me. I was only just beginning to get a sense of how I could incorporate the politics of the place into my own political philosophy, rationalize those things that made no sense to me by examining them from whence they came. Like the statute of Nathan Bedford Forrest in the Selma Cemetery. The incongruity of just that. Right there. And how the majority of the people who still live in Alabama try to rise above their past, while honoring it at the same time.

It was starting to change me. And I welcomed it.

And I miss it, terribly.

Even though I stuck out like a sore thumb.

Here are the top 10 things (in no particular order) I'll miss about Alabama

The 200 acres of farmland in Macon County that I camped on, hunted on, and moved cows on, and that brought me peace and quiet so many times
The pine trees swinging in the wind
The sound of the whippoorwill on spring and fall nights
The color of the sunshine, so bright
The Auburn family
The smell of football on fall Saturdays in the South
The friendliness of strangers
The waves of people in cars driving through the neighborhood
$17 golf
The friends we made there

This blog is now finished.

Still the Greatest View

2012-02-23T07:04:00.000-05:00

It feels good to be back up north, even if it is only a few days

"Exactly what your father told me not to"

2012-01-13T13:03:00.000-05:00

That was my response to the question: "What'd you get?"

The thing being referred to? The first deer I ever killed.

I had decided several months ago that I wanted to go hunting. 3 reasons for this:

I've become pretty close with 2 guys in my nieghborhood, both of whom hunt. A little male bonding in the woods is good.
I have acquired a taste for venison since we moved here.
I am a fan of Michael Pollan and the real food movement. We're members of our local CSA, we don't eat anything that has over 5 ingredients listed on the label, and the farther we can check out of the industrial food complex the better.

Hence, going deer hunting makes sense to me. It's another Southern experience to write about.

We headed out Saturday afternoon to a place outside Seale, AL, about an hour away. After turning on gas and water at the camping trailer, we camo'ed up, sprayed ourseleves down with scent masking, and headed out into the woods, each person to their own stand. I had a shooting house (aka, an outhouse with openings on all sides to slide the rifle through) to sit in. It was a beautiful afternoon with a gentle breeze. It was quiet, peaceful, and the gentleness allowed my thoughts to wander. I didn't care that I didn't see one deer the entire afternoon.

When darkness fell, we headed back to the car and made it back to camp where we started a fire, cracked beers, made dinner and had a good time. The father of the guy who's place we were at was with us as well. I think he really enjoyed being around his son's friends because he was downing beers like water.

4:45 am came too early, and with a headache from the night before. Clean clothes (so they didn't have the smell of a fire on them), Pedialite, two advil and some coffee and I was ready to go.
As I was standing outside the trailer waiting for the other two to get ready, I had the following conversation with the father:

Him: "Now, son, we run a management program out here, and what we don't like to do is shoot buttonheads."

Me: "Huh?"

Him: "Buttonheads are adolescent male deer whose antlers having come up yet. We like to let them grow up to become big bucks in a few years."

Me: "Oh, I see what you're saying."

Him: "So, if you're out there and you see a deer, try and see if you can see the antlers poking through the top. If not, shoot away."

Me: "Uh-huh..."

Him: "No pressure, though."

Me: "Yes, sir."

Him (trying to make me feel better):"...But if you do shoot one, don't worry. We've all made mistakes. And besides, it's hard to tell how big a deer is if it's by itself. There's no scale to judge it by."

Six am rolls around and I am sitting in a tree stand twenty feet off the ground. It's still dark. Because tt rained overnight, water is dropping off the branches and the leaves. It's the sounds of the forest that I am most atuned to, listening for footsteps, squirrels, bird calls, anything that might indicate movement on the ground. At the same time, I'm tired, having not slept all that great the night before. I am drowzy, allowing my eyes to slip close for just a second before opeing them to scan the ground in front of me.

Two hours go by, and again, like yesterday afternoon, nothing. I'm hungry for breakfast, and thinking about calling it a day. I close my eyes again, and when I open them, there she is in front of me. At least, I think its a she, and I get excited. Adreneline courses through me. My pulse quickens and I immediately start to try to control my breathing. Since my rifle has been propped out in front of me in a shooting position, I don't have to move much to get myself ready for a shot. I peer through the scope of the rifle, searching for antlers, or anything else hinting that this doe is not what I think it is. The words of the father regarding size creep into my head, and I judge quickly about how big this thing actually is. I assume its big enough to shot, and take aim, putting the crosshairs of the scope to just behind the front leg.

My heart is pounding through my chest, and I take a few deep breaths, conciously trying to slow my breathing and calm myself. What I don't want to do, at all, is to not have a kill shot. I want it to drop as quickly as possible. A sudden flash of realization at what I am about to do passes quickly through my head as I am ever so gently squeezing the trigger, preparing to take the life of something "substaintial" and on purpose.

The rifle fires. I know its a good shot. Smoke from the barrel clouds the scope and I look up quickly to see the deer standing there stunned. He then darts awkwardly to the right, visibly limping, and I know I got him. He leaps over a hill and is gone from view.

Remembering that I need to wait at least 5 minutes before looking for it, I sit in the stand. "You don't want to come up onto a deer that still may be alive. You'll freak it out, it's adrenaline will kick in, and you'll make it run." I stay in the stand, and after 10 minutes, I get out of the stand.

I walk over to where the deer was when I shot it, looking for blood. There is nothing, and then I head over to the ridge where the deer disappeared. I come to the top of the hill, and see it lying on the ground, 10 yards in front of me down the hill. It's lying on it's side, eyes wide open, with a blush of blood on its stomach indicating the exit wound. The eyes open tell me its dead. I move the head with my foot. No response. I squat down and put my hand on its side, and feel that it is still warm.

I am suddenly sad, and I realize what I've done. I know its cliche, but regret and sadness flood me. I know I can't take it back. I have taken its life.

I take the legs, flip it over and and find the entry wound, right where I wanted it to be. And that's when I look between its legs and see them. "Oh shit." I look at the head, and I can barely make out the antlers just poking through. But there there, clear as day. "Oh shit. Shit!," I repeat.

I take both the front and back legs together and drag the 60 pound deer up to the path. It's defintely an adolescent, defintely young, and defintiely a male. I lower the legs and the body of the deer onto the ground, and I just look at it, still dazed at what I just did.

I really don't know what to do, so I head back up into the tree stand and wait, stupidly thinking that more deer will arrive so I can shoot them. (Interestingly and despite common sense, more deer showing up is a possibility). After 20 minutes, and it being 8:30, I know my friends will show up soon. So I get myself out of the tree stand and wait for them. I see them in the distance not 5 minutes later.

As they walk up to me, one of them say, "Did you shoot?"

"Yup."

"Did you get it?"

"Yup"

"What you'd get?"

"Exactly what your father told me not to."

Both of friends laugh, and walk over to the deer to examine my "prowess". They look at the antlers and mercifully both say at the same time, "Oh, there's no way you could have known it was a buttonhead. Especially if it was by itself." This makes me feel marginally better.

We take the deer back to camp, where we puncture holes in its calfs, just above its knees so we can lift the deer up to gut it. With its belly facing me, and its head pointing to the ground in a bucket, I take a sharp knife and make a small incision at its groin, splitting the outer hide, and exposing the layer of fat and muscle underneath. I run the incision all the way down, over its breast bone and below its neck. At the same place at the groin, I make another incision, this time slicing through the fat and muscle, opening the body cavity. A weird "pfft" sound escapes the body cavity as air from the body escapes. I get spooked, and the guys laugh at my squirmishness.

My shot was on an angle, and I have severed the intestinal track. What this means is that I have dessimated the GI tract of the deer. I've "gut shot" it. Not good for 2 reasons.

The possibility of the digesting food ruining the meat, and
The smell. It's f'ing awful.

We have to work quickly to clean out the guts. But I get to the breastbone with the knife, and I can't pull it through. My buddy grabs the sawz-all, splits the bone, and out everything spills into the bucket. Blood is all over the place because of the gut shot, and I start to hose down the cavity, cleaning the blood and material that was in the stomach.

I'll spare the rest of the details, but at the end of the day, he's clean. My buddy cuts out the inner tenderloins and I place them in a plastic bag so I can cook them later. These are the most tender part of the deer, and because he is so young, these will not be as "gamey" tasting as older deer tend to be. (I cooked these the next night, sauteeing them with onions, garlic, olive oil and finishing them off with a bit of red wine to makes a sauce. They were delicious.) The rest of the deer was dropped off at the deer processors to be turned into link sausage and cube steak.

All in all, I realize that my "innocence" is gone, and I made a mistake. The deer I took was way too young, small, and male. I'm glad I got the nerves out of my system, and I know what not to do in the future. So, I guess that means I'll do it again.

The Drive up I-65

2011-07-14T17:56:00.001-04:00

No where (that I can think of, yet) embodies the elements necessary to scare the shit out of a Yankee visiting the state of Alabama than a drive along I-65 North from Montgomery to the state line of Tennessee. It has just about everything you could ask for, from the Confederate battle flag to Religious fundamentalism to outright hatred of democrats.

Good lord, I nearly shit my pants everytime I drive it.

The first thing you come up on is in Autuaga County, about 20 miles north of Montgomery. If traveling north, you'll see a beautiful waterwheel built into the side of a hill that's right next to the highway. The property is / was owned by this guy, who owned a construction company and who loved God and America.

Subtle, right?

Later on down the road you get the ultimate expression of Confederate pride; a giant (and I do mean giant) Confederate battle flag flies over I-65, placed there by the Sons of the Confederacy. I didn't have a chance to snap a photo, but I did find one online which gives a pretty decent view of the scale.

And how nice is that, right? Nothing like sticking your middle finger up in the air and telling everyone to kiss your ass if they think you're a racist. And it really doesn't matter, anyway, because you'll probably admit you're rascists anyway.

Yay, Sons of the Confederacy! (ugh.)

Now, there are more signs like the next one in Georgia and along I-75, but again in Alabama along I-65 they take our politics and religious fundamentalism seriously. And one of the biggest issues some of these people have is over the governement allowing abortion. They're still pissed about Roe vs Wade and, wait a minute....I am sorry to interupt this, but there is another very pressing message I need to bring to you about the future of your soul, and it comes from our friends at AvoidSatan.com, ans it come in the form of a question.

"Where will you spend eternity?"

Where indeed? I've got a question for you: Where did I spend the time before my parents made me? I wasn't necessarily worried about where I was spending my time before I was born, so why should I worry about where I spend my time after I am dead? Hmmm....????

Last but not least is the piece de resistance, and I'll set it up like this:

Imagine you've spent your entire life in the Northeast, only to have to up and move to the deep South for your wife's job. No big deal, you think. "I can handle it. Hey, I've made bigger moves, remeber Singapore in high school?" Piece of cake.

Now, you're aware of the stereotypes people have of the South, of Southerners, etc. And while you've met people who clearly are not that way, who do not conform to the stereotypes at all, and indeed reject the attitudes and notions that pertain to them, you know that where there is smoke, there is fire. That there is a reason stereotypes exist in the first place. And they are confirmed when you this sign.

Yup.

Everyone of those b#%stards in DC is responsible for turning this country into a Socialist state.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not a fan of the current healthcare bill. As soon as they killed the single payer option and removed the introduction of competition from the table, my support evaporated. At the same time, however, its a start that will be reformed. Its better than nothing.

But, seriously? What is wrong with you people? Have we not heard of bi-partisanship and working together?

Appparently not.

On Dothan and Alligators

2011-06-28T18:15:00.012-04:00

Look at that thing! It's huge! (That's what she said....HEE-YOOOO!!!)

We've never been to South Alabama before. Our neighbors who used to live here in Auburn moved back home to Dothan two months ago, and we decided to visit them.

We were told we were going to go fishing, and that we'd be hunting an alligator.

Wait, I'm sorry....A what?

Dothan has about 70,000 people living in the city, and about 100,000 living in Houston County where it's located. Our friends recently moved back home after the wife graduated with an Architecture degree from Auburn. Don't ask me how she married to an Alabama fan. That's a house divided on Saturdays.

Anyway, we drove Friday after work and saw the sights on the way down. Like this.

Yup. You hear that a lot down here. Everyone thinks they have the best butt. Quite frankly, I've seen a lot better up north. And have you ever visited People of walmart? Sheesh...

We also went through a wicked thunderstorm. It looked like we were heading into Mordor.

Help me, Jeebus

I mean, seriously, have you ever seen anything so onimous and scary? ...Besides People of Walmart, I mean... Now, that's scary.

Despite the rain, we made it to our friends house, made dinner, and relaxed. I was accussed of being a party pooper because I went to bed at 11:30 pm on a Friday night. It's always nice when your wife calls you a party pooper.

Yeah. Real nice.

So, as I was saying. The next day we woke up, ate breakfast, and because we had a 5 year old with us, we spent the morning in the backyard pool. And that was very nice. It's been awhile since I had the opportunity to just bum around at a pool and not do a gosh darn thing. It was sweet.

Disregard the beer and the cigarettes

We showered, dressed, and got lunch at a place called the Firestone Pizzeria. Who knew that I'd have to drive to Dothan Alabama to have great, thin crust pie. Seriously, and even though both the sauce and the crust was off, it reminded me of Pepe's. Although I do miss Pepe's, and Luna's in West Hartford. (Sigh).

As you drive around downtown Dothan, you'll come across these great murals painted on the sides of the buildings. When we go back in November for the Peanut Festival, I'm going to actually get out of the car and take decent pictures. Until then....

Ray!!!!!!

It's George Washinton Carver!

We then drove out to a small farm stand to pick up tomatoes. Funny story. While we were there, the farm stand owner's son, who is a little slow himself, tried to pick up a tomato of his own as he chatted up the wife.

"And what was your name, again?"

"I didn't say, actually. You don't know me. We've never met"

"Uh....."

My man didn't have a chance, and he was stumped. He had no comeback for that one.

"I'm ferocious, I tell ya!"

Now, remember when I said we were told we were gonna go gator hunting? Well, we had a surprise visit by a little one at the farmstand. Apparently this little guy was caught on a fishing hook, and for kicks was brought to the farm stand to be shown off.

I wonder what happened to him?

We went back to the friend's house, relaxed a bit more, and then loaded up to go out to Echo, Alabama. The brother and sister-in-law of one of the neighbor's we came down with lives there on 600 acres of family land, complete with plenty of pasture, 3 ponds / lakes, and the alligator we were supposed to hunt.

So, here's the story with the alligator. Apparently, beavers had been a problem on the 3 lakes on the land. In order to control the population, the family introduced an alligator into the pond. A few years later, no more beavers. Problem solved. Or was it? Because now the family dog has gone missing. And quite frankly, it's a big fricking alligator.

Now, we never got boozed so we could take this thing down, but we will. Oh yes, someday we will.....

Because the land and the farm was so pretty, here are more pictures, without commentary

We had a great weekend, and we were able to "gnome" our friends back.

Tuskegee Adventure

2011-06-27T15:50:00.001-04:00

Tuskegee is famous for a lot of different things. The Tuskegee Institute and George Washington Carver. The birthplace of Rosa Parks. The Tuskegee Airmen. Tuskegee University.

We had the opportunity to visit one day, lured by the promise of Sweet Potatoes and a celebration of George Washington Carver at the Farmer's Market there.

Unfortunately, the Sweet Potato Festival was a complete and total bust. We arrived to a practically empty Farmer's Market (save for a few farmers), and a small table manned by a few schoolgirls and their handmade signs about what Carver did with sweet potatoes. It was a sad, but amusing sight. The girls had a small microphone and gave a short presentation on all the great things Carver did. It was like I was back in elementary school listening to classmates give book reports in the front of class.

"George Washington Carver was a great man. He was a scientist, and studied sweet potatoes. He raised them in his garden....He was a great man."

You get the idea.

The Oaks - Booker T. Washington's House on the campus

After that, we went to the University, which, btw, is a National Park, something I didn't know. Booker T. Washington estalished the uinversity and his house (The Oaks) still stands and is one of the focal points of the entire university. When the wife and I walked up and looked at the house, we were taken aback because it didn't look like the typical Southern House. It looked like an old Victorian you'd see in New England.

We arrived at the front door of the house to see a large tour group leaving the house. At the end of the long line of people appeared Michael, a National Parks Ranger. We were all by ourselves, and as he towered over us, he looked down and said, "Would you like a tour?"

Heck yeah, we would!

We learned that Michael is a current student at the University (as are most of the Rangers who man the University), and he was great. He lead us on our own private tour of The Oaks, the University, Washington's grave site, the Carver labrotaories, and the Cathedral. He spent 1.5 hrs with us, alone.

Stained glass in the Cathedral

Carnegie in the Hizzous!

Hard Times, indeed

We left the University and drove around the town. It was pretty tired, and some self made signs let us know about it.

The downtown area is centered around the Town Square, and it seems that the businesses in the middle of town are trying to establish themsleves, (or maybe they already have). They believe in the town and the school, and are willing to roll the dice.

One thing I did notice while we were walking around the University and driving around the town is that we were the only white people. And maybe I was being hyper-aware about it because prior to us going there, we were speaking to neighbors about Tuskegee.

On the way out of town, we stopped at a run-down convenience store that we were told had the best fried chicken in the area.

And good god, it was delightful. Moist, tender, flavorful, so much better than anything I have ever tasted, ever.

Yum. Yum.

But the turkey vulture had something else to eat, so he wasn't too interested in our chicken. I hate 'dillos.

The mini-vacation: Maker Mark Day @ Keeneland and Disney

2011-04-21T13:09:00.006-04:00

We just got back from driving 2,000 miles in 5 days. Wooof...my butt hurts from sitting that long, but we did have a great time. Allow me to explain.

Racetracks. Yes, we are bettors

Every year, the bourbon, Maker's Mark, sponsors a day at the Keeneland Race track in Lexington, KY. As we are Kentucky Colonels, I like drinking bourbon, and the wife's Dad and wife live there, we decided to head on up and bet the ponies. 10 races, 5 bets, we walked away with about $65, basically breaking even when you consider we paid for lunch, etc.

It was a nice afternoon, followed by a delicious dinner at a local German restaurant named Marikkas. Brats, sauerkraut, wiener schnitzel and beer? Yes, please!

Maker's Mark day at Keeneland was followed by the Retirement party of the CEO of the company, Bill Samuels. He's the 7th(?) generation of Samuels to distill bourbon and he had a blow out to celebrate. A very large tent was set up in a hotel parking lot in downtown Lexington. There was a band, lighting and sound equipment, food, and of course, booze. Tickets were $10 a pop and all proceeds went to a local shelter for battered woman (insert snarky comment here about booze and abuse).

Yes, those are minis in their headbands

Anywho, people showed up to party, like these two ladies here, who clearly let the booze go to their heads! (I am so punny)

There was also a station, right after you entered, that had a woman strung up by her ankles, hanging upside down passing out fake champagne. I think people thought it was real champagne becuase they were like animals reaching up to her with their glasses. Heck, even I succumbed to the allure of the lady in a red cowboy hat, as I shouldered my way in there.

Hey, gimme some of that, what you sucking on!

As you may see from the shoulders of my jacket, it was wet outside. Rain had started in the middle of the afternoon out at the track and continued throughout the night. By the time we got to the party (around 9:30) it was pouring. The way it was, there had to have been at least 1,500 people in the big tent. If it hadn't been raining, I suspect there would have been much, much more.

The next day the wife and I left Lexington at about noon and started the second half our mini-vacation; meeting my parents, sister and brother-in-law and nephews in Orlando and Disney World.Whoa.

We knew that we wouldn't be able to do the entire 14 hr drive all in one shot, so we figured we'd just drive as far as we could on day 1 and arrive the next day when we would. We'd find a cheap hotel on I-75 somewhere and call it a night.

Can you feel the excitement tonight?

This plan was working fine until we realized we'd forgotten the entrance tickets to the Disney parks back in Auburn (Doh!) So, we made a detour, picked up the tickets at the house (at around 6 pm.) left around 7 pm and stopped in Tifton, Georgia, right of I-75 at about 11:00 pm., receiving a "too fast for conditions" citation from a small town, back-woods Georgia cop along the way (Fun!). Small aside, when I was being pulled over, I took a turn onto a dead end street to get off the main highway. I parked right in front of a house that was having a bonfire in the backyard. The people must have been freaked when the cop's lights stopped right in front of their house!

So, the next day, into Orlando we drove. Now, the boys are 5 and 3 now, and while I think they might be a little young for the whole Orlando experience, I was proved wrong by the excitement that emanated from them the entire time they were there. I mean, look at the youngest!

Hi there!

Ah, just kidding. No, the whole family had a great time, as evidenced by this picture:

And yes, the eldest and I are wearing Pluto hats. I've decided I don't care about my dignity any longer.

As evidenced by the shot below:

Pluto was always my favorite, but Daffy, too

I'm too sexy for this eyepatch!

This one too:

Does Daffy always look angry?

Lastly, while we were getting on rides, my father would pull out his camera and try to take a picture of us all sitting in the seats. He sent them to me and when I took a look at them, I noticed one in particular that made me laugh out loud.

Well done, boy in the back. Well done.

Yes, we were photo-bombed on Pirates of the Caribbean. YES!!!

I will not suffer a Tryanny of Meatheads

2011-04-20T17:40:00.002-04:00

This happened over a month ago, I just haven't gotten around to writing it until now.

Related to this post regarding athletes in high school and continuing on, I am here to relate the story of the Redneck Meathead who I encountered early Sunday morning as I left my house to go to my neighbors to let their dog out. (Side note: I'll update this post with a photo when I can capture said meathead).

Anyway, there is a very large Marine (meaning steroided up without a neck Marine) who lives in the neighborhood and he has a dog. A little one. It's actually kinda cute to see him walking with a tiny dog because of the dichotomy of the two images. The problem is that he never, and I mean never, cleans up after the dog poops. He just leaves it on whoever's yard the dog happens to poop on.

My neighbors and I have noticed this, and have often commented on either confronting him or writing a letter to the Home Owners Association to complain. No one wants to confront him because he's huge, and could easliy snap a person in two like a twig.

But, for anyone who knows me, I sometimes do stupid things. Like this particular Sunday, for instance.

Let me set the stage:

It's early, like 7:30 am, and I have just woken up on Sunday morning. I haven't had coffee or eaten breakfast. I leave the house to go over to my neighbor's house two doors over to let their dog out to pee, etc. And it's perfect, because the Marine and the dog are there, on my neighbor's yard, and the dog is pooping.

"Good morning," I say as I walk past the man as the dog finishes.

The man starts to walk off, leaving the poop on the yard.

Since he's now a good 15 feet away from me, I say to him, "Are you going to clean that up?"

Without turning around he says, "No" and continues to walk away.

"Well, that's disgusting and rude," I reply.

And then he does turn around, and without any additional provation on my part starts yelling at me, calling me a nosy mother-hubbard who should mind his own f$%king business, and what am I going do about, p#%sy?

Full blown 'roid rage. Having never seen one before, I unfortunately knew right away that it was one.

It's then that wife opens the door to see what the ruckus is all about. He sees this and then says, "Oh, better act tough for the wife. Make sure she knows you're a man!"

He does everything he can to try to get to engage with him, but I'm not biting. I tell him its rude, disgusting, and that its just common courtesy to clean up after your dog.

He tells me that he's a grown man and can do whatever he wants, and who am I to tell him different. I turn and walk away because this is clearly going nowhere.

In retrospect, I have little else to say about this other than "Well, that happened." I can only be responsible for myself and my actions. I am glad I said something, but I could have said something a lot less confrontational, such as"Do you need some plastic bags for that? I have some at the house if you're out." You know, something helpful.

Oh well.

I am not Governor Bentley's brother

2011-03-11T11:32:00.001-05:00

Edit: Thanks to a friend for pointing out it's Bently, not Brantly, as previously written.

This starts the conversation.

To celebrate MLK, Jr. Day, Tina and I decided we would make the drive from Montgomery to Selma, to recreate the march, (albeit in reverse, but we live on this side of Montgomery. Anyway....) So we arrive in Montgomery, and, unbeknownst to us, it also happened to be the inauguration day of Alabama's new governor. So, we watched the parade (lots of high school and college bands. Fun!) and then headed to the visitor center to get a map. We walked around the River where they've done some new redevelopment, including rehabbing some old warehouses, and ate at Dreamland BBQ (even though they're from Tuscaloosa ;-). It was good.

We ended up at the Dexter Avenue King Memorial Baptist Church and were able to find a seat during the church's MLK Birthday Celebration. The event had several different preachers, a choir, band, etc. It was a nondenominational service, essentially, to celebrate King's life and his message of love, non-violence, and tolerance.

The new governor was on the list to speak, and due to the nature of his busy day, preachers came and went, vamping for his arrival. And arrive he finally did, taking the podium and saying that he would be a governor to all. And that was great, until he made a call to the alter, and said that only Christians were his real brothers and sisters. Those that weren't, well, he couldn't help you until you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior.

And that was when I knew I wasn't Gov. Brantley's brother, nor was my wife his sister. Indeed, we feel persona non grata in the Brantley house. And that's fine, ultimately, because the love and tolerance Dr. King taught me makes me love, accept, and tolerate Gov. Brantley and his non-tolerant, non-accepting ways.

Such irony. And on Dr. King's day to boot. However, no surprise coming from the post of the governor of Alabama, whose former occupants included George "Segration Today, Segregation Tomorrow, Segregation Forever" Wallace. Governor Brantley has a legacy to uphold.

I've heard many people say this nation was founded as a Christian Nation, that our forefathers envisioned us to be Christian forever. Well, while it is true our forefathers were Christian, they were first and foremost Deists, believers in God who created the world, set it in motion, and allowed the natural laws He built into it to govern. A primary natural law is freedom, and the freedom to make the choice for how to worship. Isn't that why we came to the colonies in the first place, to escape religious intolerance? Then why is Governor Brantley driving me away from the State of Alabama because I do not believe in his particular form of god?

If Alabama does not want me, I'm sure I will be ok.

The Trees & My Imagined Response to the TSA Agent in Rochester, NY

2011-02-18T13:13:00.001-05:00

First, there's this. A 62 y/o grown man went to Toomer's Corner and poisoned Oak Trees that have been alive for over 130 years, all because he was an Alabama fan and was tired of seeing Auburn fans celebrate football victories by throwing toilet paper over the trees. Now his family is receiving death threats from Auburn fans.

Huh?

This doesn't really deserve comment, other than that people here in the South need to relax. Like, for real. Trees? C'mon, man.

Despite my sentiment to the above, there was an incident in Rochester, NY recently regarding football in Alabama that deserves an imagined response. You know how these things go. You're confronted with a situation and you react one way, and then think about it later on and imagine all the better things you could have said that would have been so much better than the way you did. The French have a saying for it, but I don't remember what it is.

Anyway, TSA agents decided to do an additional random id check at the gate before we got on the plane. Since I was flying standby, I was the last person on the plane. I handed him my licesnse, he looks at it, and as he hands it back to me, he says,

"Roll Tide"

I scrunch up my face, take my license back, and say, "War Eagle, dude! F... your Roll Tide." And I walk down the galleyway to the plane, looking back over my shoulder and giving him a face of disgust.

I don't think he had any idea what I was referring to, because he was looking at me oddly, not really knowing how to respond. But here's what I should have said:

"Look, man. I realize you watched the ESPN commercial, where they all say "Roll Tide" and all that. And right now, because I have a license from Alabama, you think it would be cute to say it, hoping I'd give you a "Roll Tide" right back at you. Right? Yeah, that would be cool, wouldn't it."

"But that's not the way it works, see."

"Did you look at my license? Did you notice in which town I live?"

"I live in Auburn, home to Auburn University, the unmitigated rivals to University of Alabama, whose fan base is made up by people (rednecks, mainly) who never even went to the school. They are like Yankee fans, insufferable and uneducated, who lay claim to national titles that didn't even exist."

"Do you even know what I am talking about? Did you even know Auburn was in Alabama?"

"You're saying "Roll Tide" to me is like me taking your license, seeing you're from New York, paying no attention to which town you even live in, and saying, 'Go Islanders!'"

"It's wrong, exposes your ignorance, and makes you look foolish."

"Don't do it again."

The City

2010-11-01T09:47:00.001-04:00

The Greatest Place on Earth

The future?

2010-11-01T09:17:00.003-04:00

He will not be a douchebag. I promise

Last game

2010-10-23T15:32:00.001-04:00

Perfect vista to see the Heisman winner blow through some holes

War Eagle!

The Auburn Football Family

2010-10-23T09:02:00.000-04:00

Today we're gonna see Auburn (hopefully) kick some LSU Tiger butt. Because the wife is new faculty and was hired in the spring, we weren't able to get on the faculty ticket list. And, because of other commitments (notably Kentucky Colonel Day at Churchill Downs), this is the last game we'll be able to attend this season. (And yes, both the wife and I are colonels. Don't ask how.)

Because we don't know our situation for next year, this could actually be the last game we see for awhile. And I have to say, while I didn't enjoy football in high school or college, I am surprised by how much of a college football convert I have become.

I didn't get it before. I didn't understand that in places like the rural South, your college team is all you have. You don't have professional sports teams readily nearby (name a top tier professional sports team in Mississippi or Alabama. Go ahead. I'll wait.), so there is nothing of that sort to identify with. In Connecticut, you were either a Yankee fan or a Red Sox fan. College football? I don't think so. Patriots, Jets, or Giants. Or if you lived in upstate NY, the Bills (shudder).

But down here, all you have is your school. The school you may have gone to, or not (from what I understand, the vast majority of 'bama fans never went there. Infer what you will about the level of class)And it's the place you stay loyal to because, despite the vast sums of $ that are available to teams in the BCS system, they, unlike professional sports teams, aren't going to leave your town. They are a part of the community. They are loyal to the alumni, faculty, students, and fans who flock to the campus every Saturday (regardless of where the team is playing. Auburn travels well. Nebraska and Clemson as well), and stake out there spots, and welcome other fans (who support their team or not) in an open, friendly, gregarious nature. The college isn't the Yankees or the Red Sox, able to shell out over $200 million a year in salaries in an openly disgusting manner in the middle of the recession while raping working families for $50/tix to seat in the nosebleeds. (An aside, sometimes the Yankees make it really hard to root for them.) And yes, while some of the tickets aren't cheap, there really isn't anything like being in a stadium with 85,000 other people.

Here at Auburn, the senior level staff and those associated with the school talk about the Auburn family, how everyone is welcome and how we all look out for one another. And despite being the Yankee I am, I have felt welcome from the very moment we crossed the state line 3.5 months ago. In a strange way, those 85,000 people have become my family. And regardless of how long we stay, (or don't) I will always be an Auburn Tiger.

War Eagle

Roundup of interesting facts I've learned so far

2010-10-04T21:10:00.000-04:00

In no particular order:

Armadillos carry leprosy. Ewww.
Deer sausage is really, really, really good.
Collard greens are good in a soup, but fricking nasty when they're cooked normally. (Boiled, then simmered with a ham hock for what seems like forever. Verdict? Still gross.)
It seems we are the only people in the neighborhood to sleep with their windows open at night. This seems weird to me.
I know I will be going hunting for deer this fall / winter.
I know that if I actually do kill a deer, I will cry. Maybe not right then and there, but eventually.
I am ok with the above two items. I actually think this is healthy. We've been removed from our food sources for too long.
The only way to get rid of an armadillo is to either remove its food source, or kill it.
The landlord opted for option #1.
Armadillos are gross. And they grunt.
The redneck version of cow-tipping is armadillo kicking. Because they can't see well, you approach them from behind and commence launching. Be prepared for your foot to hurt due to their hard shells.
I have not participated in either cow-tipping or armadillo kicking.
11am kick-offs make a football game family day at the stadium. All the kiddies are there.
Booing is very much frowned upon at said stadium. Especially in front of kids. I did not know this. :-/
Additionally, when you say things like, "Hey Ref! Get off your knees, you're blowing the game!" you get frowned at.

So, them's it so far

Pre-game

2010-10-02T11:33:00.000-04:00

War Eagle

You stay classy, bammers.

2010-09-30T15:38:00.000-04:00

Hat tip to friends of the program

On open windows and Armadillos

2010-09-30T10:19:00.001-04:00

After along stretch of very hot weather (ever since we got here in mid-July it's been in the mid 90's), we've gotten a reprieve and temperatures have plummeted to the low 80's. Here's our forecast for the next five days

Today - high of 82, Sunny

Tomorrow - high of 80, Sunny

Saturday - high of 78, Sunny

Sunday - high of 74, Sunny

Monday - high of 75, Sunny

Not very consistent, sure, but beautiful, nonetheless. Because of this, it's time to open the windows and blow the stink out of this joint.. Also, when the humidity is low, there is no better sleeping weather. So, we've thoroughly enjoyed the brisk evenings. We even pulled out our comforter to keep warm and toasty.

Because of the cooler temperatures and our open windows, we pretty much hear everything that is going on in the neighborhood (the opposite is true, as well, of course). And lately, we've had a visitor to the neighborhood. As this post's title suggests, our neighborhood has served as a buffet table to an armadillo.

Yes, we have them here in Alabama. I was surprised by this, frankly. I had always thought they were basically just in Texas for the sole purpose of providing fodder for cars. (You just hit an armadillo! 10 points!) But no, according to this Wikipedia article, the little buggers are all over the South, reaching as far north as Nebraska!

And they're ugly, too. Look at them. They're creepy looking, a leftover from a distant age. Like alligators or a rhinoceros, they look like they could have been roamed the Earth with the dinosaurs (which they probably did.) Brrrrrr....gives me the shivers.

As some of you also know, we have a Jack Russell terrier who like to do two things: 1) act like he's protecting us, and 2) kill rodent-like animals. So last night at 2:30 am, our visitor makes his appearance in our rose bushes looking for grubs underneath the pine straw (quick aside: instead of mulch, we have pine straw. Same idea (inhibit weeds), different ingredient) and our little guy hears him. And he goes nuts, barking his head off. Me being the man, I get up with the flashlight to go check out what is causing our little guy to freak out and wake up the rest of the neighborhood. I look out our window, and directly under our window, I see the little bastard, grunting away.

Grunting. They sound like piglets searching for food. And I have to admit, I was little skeeved out. I mean, it was grunting, and it looked like a giant rat, except armored with sharp claws.

Yes, I admit. I was emasculated by a 10 pound rodent.

But it has claws! And it grunts!

Anyway, now I have to apologize to the neighbors for my dog's barking at 3 am, contact the landlord to see what he wants to do about, and grow a set. Maybe purchase a long broom stick to hit it with? Hmmmm....

Dog and cat (1 @ least)

2010-09-28T20:09:00.001-04:00

In harmony.

Ahhhh......

Anniversary in the ATL

2010-09-27T17:44:00.000-04:00

Wife and I had our wedding anniversary weekend in Atlanta this past weekend. Shout out to Il Mulino for bringing excellent Italian to the South. Good god that was good. Prior to that, we were hanging out on the roof of the Glenn Hotel downtown, the Sky Lounge as they like to call it. And, truth be told, the wife and I were looking forward to going out to a club that plays hip hop and R&B. And man, good god the DJ that was there was awesome. Old school rap (man, we walked in to the Digital underground's "Humpty Dance" playing) and hip-hop. We were the only white people there. It was sweet.
Trouble is, we had to go to dinner (the aforementioned), and the lounge closes down at 8, switches dj's, and re-opens @ 10. No big deal, right? But it was, because every where else we went we ran into things we didn't want, or were closed, or whatever. In fact, the whole weekend was like that.

We arrived at 1:30 on Saturday afternoon, checked in, and made our way to the High Museum. Great, right? No, because there was a line a mile long and when we got to the end of it, there was a museum employee with a sign saying that they were no longer taking any more walk-up customers. No mas.

After dinner, we went to another lounge our hotel hostess had told us about. And while the music and such was fine, the drinks were very expensive, the music was loungy (expected, but when we asked for a hip-hop club, she suggests this....grrrr....I want my booty-shaking rap!!!!!), and I get hit on. By a guy. (I was flattered, actually, but totally didn't realize I was getting picked up. The wife helped me out on that one.) And then when return to the hotel to go back up to the other SkyLounge, its douchebag central listening to bleeps, bits and blops electronica.

Atlanta, you were bit of a disappointment.

Now, maybe this was my fault. Admittedly, I don't like to plan too much when it comes to leisure time. Sure, I get the general outlines sketched out, but my itinerary is rarely fleshed out in detail. But maybe that's what these quick weekends require. More details. More plans. More pre-investigation. More Hip-hop. Less electronica.

The next day we did salvage a bit of good feeling for the ATL. We spent several hours at the National Historic Site dedicated to MLK, Jr., saw his house, looked at his grave site, and hung out. Then we went to Buckhead, walked through massive malls, and got back in the car, shivering in fright from the sheer amount of marketing that had been thrust in front of our eyes. Ye-gawds. Makes me want to do the Freedom Trail from Selma to Montgomery all the more.

OMG - FOOTBALL!!!!!!!!

2010-09-14T16:56:00.000-04:00

First off, a confession. I used to hold it as a source of pride and "better-than-you" esteem that I went to schools that did not have football programs. In fact, my two main criteria for choosing an undergrad program was that:

The school did not have a Greek system
The school did not have a football team.

See, I wasn't allowed to play football when I was a kid. Nor hockey for that matter. Both are sports I would have loved to have played, and currently love to watch. (Alright, hockey's not my favorite, especially not on television, but I like to see a good fight, just like the next guy.) And it wasn't that I wasn't friends with guys on the football team that made me not want to be around them. It's that I wasn't friends with all of them. Specifically, there was a specific sub-species of football player I did not approve of, did not like, and did care to associate myself with.

The meathead.

You know that guy. The guy who punched out the panels of your garage door because he showed up at your house for a party he wasn't invited to and you didn't let him in. The guy who punched your books out of your hands as he passed you through the halls. The guy who grabbed the ass of the girl you liked. The guy who reveled in belching. You know that guy. We all know that guy.

That guy.

So when in came time to pick schools, it was a no-brainer that I would not willingly put myself in an environment that shared space with them.

What's that? What that, you say? What about Carnegie Mellon's football team? (I went to CMU for grad school) Uhm, well...let me put it to you this way.

Dorks playing football.

Do you have the image? Ok, 'nuff said.

Look at that sea of orange. Isn't it magnificent?

Now, quite possibly one of the coolest things that Auburn has going for it, (that everyone can agree upon), is the football. Holy cow, I was impressed. I mean, wow, that's 83,000 people, for goodness sake. Just look at them all.

And that's only 1/2 half of the stadium, and the upper deck isn't even completely full.

Here's another shot, from a different angle.

I think that shows the rest of the stadium fairly well, right?

That's just a lot of people, a lot of orange, and a lot of people who previously spent a lot time hanging out in the parking lots, drinking, eating, and tailgating.

And that was part of the whole experience, too. The tailgating. The hanging out with friends, the throwing around of the football, the subtle barbecue one-up-mans-ship subtly playing itself out between RV's and campers (I've got something cooking here that will really impress you!)

But sometimes, the students take it a little too far. As in, holy cow, I don't think she's going to be able to keep herself up. Ladies and gentlemen, I present exhibit A.

Oh, dear Lord, not good. This one was not a happy camper. Eyes glazed, lolling about, teetering on her 2 guy friends who were clearly trying to keep her from being arrested from public drunkenness. Man, she was about 2 seconds from totally puking her guts out. Fun stuff!

Anyway, the wife and i had a great time, and we can't wait to go to our next game.

In the Country

2010-08-31T11:15:00.001-04:00

Another Saturday, another day of adventure and new experiences. This time it was a next door neighbor's piece of land south of Tuskegee where we played with some horses, tried to catch cat fish, and looked at some cows.

The drive through Tuskegee was extremely pleasant. Our next door neighbor and his wife had grown up in the general vicinity and shared a lot of nice tidbits about the area, the way people live, etc. In fact, they pointed out two houses, both opposite one another, that were the exact same. Huh, why's that?, I wondered. Well, it turns out that the homes were both built by the same man. The first home was built for he and his wife to live in, and the second home was built to satisfy a stipulation of his divorce from the same woman that he build her a home that was its exact mirror. Hence, two houses, opposite side of the street, exact mirrors of one another. Spooky.

The first stop of the day was the hay field to check on the bailing process which my friend and his pops had worked on earlier in the week. Not too much progress had been made, but form what I could understand, there were some mechanical issues involving sprockets, and flanges, and hinges, etc.

And here's where my yankee-ness comes into play. We had stopped at a nearby farmer's house who had helped with the cutting and the bailing. This man was my father's age, and had been raising beef cows his entire life. And much like the time I was in Maine and spoke to a Maine fisherman and had a really hard time understanding what he said, I had an equally hard time understanding just wtf this guy was saying. I've noticed that there is bit of a lag time between what people down here say to me, me mentally filtering out the accent, and then me fully comprehending what they've said.

We went over to the barn and took the opportunity to put our neighbor's 5 y/o on a horse and take a spin. I think she had a lot of fun

The horse, maybe not so much.

Just kidding.

After this we took a quick spin over to the lake where the cows were resting, and we did some fishing. MMMMM.....Black Angus


Hey, you in the back. I am going to eat you eventually!

Last, but not least, it was time to take the little one in the tractor. Again, it looks like she had a great time.

BBQ in Alabama

2010-08-30T13:06:00.001-04:00

Place: Birmingham, AL. about 2 hrs from Auburn, AL.

Event: Stoking the Fire BBQ Festival

Otherwise known as, Eat the Pig, Stuff your Face, I Love Butt, etc.(I'm just kidding. Those aren't the alternate names) But some teams did have some really funny names. case in point: Butt Rubbers, whose motto was, "Keep it Wet, and Do it Slow" Truer words have never been spoken. And while I didn't try the butt rubbers pork butt, the rest of the butt we did try, was very good indeed.

Interesting note before we move on, the pork "butt" is not actually the butt. The "butt" is the shoulder, while an actual pork butt is called the hock, as in ham hock. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's move on.

The event itself was held at Sloss Furnaces, a national historic landmark. I took a picture of the landmark sign, here: The story goes, from I could gather, was that the furnaces intersected 2 rail lines, making it a pretty logical place to set up and make very heavy things made out of metal so that transporting them long distances wasn't difficult. And while the vast majority of the operation was no longer working, you could tell the furnaces were impressive by their sheer size and scope, as evidenced in the pictures below:

This one doesn't do nearly as much justice to the "largeness" as the one below.

See what I mean? This photo, from the opposite side of the structure, gives a little bit better idea of how big the place it is.

Anyway, the comp- etition has four categories: chicken, ribs, butt, and people's choice. The others are self explanatory, but people's choice refers to Saturday afternoon when the gates to the festival open up for the vast majority of people to roll in and taste the pork bbq (made out of the butts), that the teams have been smoking for the past few days. You then vote for your favorites. The results, for most of the teams, were delicious.

Post bbq, slightly buzzed stoopid faces

We met up with the college roommate of our next door neighbor here in Auburn, and he treated us to a few ribs, which were fantastic, and a couple of nice cold, high gravity beers. Sipping beer and eating ribs and bbq (by the way, if you are eating shredded, or pulled, or chipped pork with bbq sauce, you are eating bbq specifically. If you are eating ribs, or brisket, or anything else "bbq", you are eating bbq generally. Got it? Yeah, I was confused, too.) Man, it was good, as evidence by our silly faces. -->

We walked around some more, trying bbq, sipping beer, and then headed over to the stage where the organizers announced the winners of the competition. And because part of the furnaces are still working, the prizes were cast in iron right on the site, which I thought was pretty cool

There were also some pretty funny "sculptures" that the teams had set up, as evidenced here (ewwwh), and below

Good times were had by all, and while our friend's friend's team didn't win, these people know how to cook pork. God, I am glad I am not Jewish or Muslim.

Photoshop Disasters, Alabama style

2010-08-18T14:28:00.000-04:00

I would say this belongs on photoshop disasters, but the stuff they post is typically very well done and sometimes difficult to spot and notice. This, however, is illustrative of what I've found down here.

People love their football.

And if you can get the coach of the Alabama Crimson Tide to support your candidacy, then you're sure as shit to get in.

Wow. That's truly horrible.

I love the quote from the candidate when presented with the original picture:

"They said we could do it this way," Davidson said.

Props to the Birmingham News for tracking this one down

Dinner @ the President's House (funny story at the end, I promise!)

2010-08-17T12:43:00.000-04:00

As new faculty, the wife gets invited to a bunch of "stuff". For example, we went out for dinner last Friday night with a couple of her colleagues, she gets free tickets to the university theatre productions, and she gets invited to the new faculty reception, hosted by the president of the university and his wife. So, as we were invited and never wanting to miss a party (or a free meal and booze), we put on our best and headed over.

The president's house is very nice (Apologies for the poor picture. It was the best I could find. It doesn't really give you a proper feel for the scale of it, nor the inside, which is very nicely decorated.), and is located in the heart of the campus. It has very nice gardens, and an air conditioned "Terrace - reception" area, comprised of a essentially a ballroom and an art gallery like space, half of which was "patio-ed". (God, what a horrible description. Anyway...)

We mingled with a few folks, eventually "settling" with new professors in the communications, history, and psychology departments. The conversation was good, considering all of has had just met and were feeling each other out, essentially. Dinner was a very nice, catered spread comprised of roasted chicken, pork, fried green tomatoes, and grilled asparagus, squash, etc. Dessert was banana pudding and peach cobbler with ice cream. Two words for both of those:

Yum -
EEE

During dinner, the president came to the table to sit and chat for a few minutes. He sat next to me, and we (as a table) talked bbq (he's partial to the mustard based sauces and the bbq you can find at Price's, although he does like the vinegar based if the meat is really high quality. He also doesn't like Dreamland bbq, which isn't surprising considering its a chain. He said students dig Mike & Ed's, while the locals like Byron's), and the lack of recognition sports other than football, golf and Nascar get in the Birmingham newspaper, (especially on game-days in the fall). A very nice, gracious man, who the wife described as her idea of what a Southern politician would be when we eventually come across one.

The story of the night had to be, though, when I was getting the peach cobbler from the dessert table. As I handed my plate over (already full of banana pudding (she gave me too much!)), I said something to the effect of, "Try to get some on, will ya?" The older, white woman looks at me and asks, "Where you from?"

"Connecticut"

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!," she screamed.

"Uh, ok."

"Are you, by chance, I-talian?", she asked.

"Wow. You're good. I am."

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!," she screamed again.

I asked, "I'm impressed. How could you tell?"

She replied, "Well, my sister-in-law married a man from up there, and he's I-talian, and you all look the same! You don't know him, do you? Last name is (unintelligible due to the Southern accent).... No?... You don't? Oh well...."

It was the first time I felt Asian or black.

"They all look the same!"