The Levers Edge

Bucket List #32- Learning to Make Bread and Other Lessons to Apply to Life.

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 13:25:00 +0000

It is said that every culture has its own version of bread; leavened, unleavened, flat, fried, etc. Yesterday I learned how to bake Horiatiko Psomi Bread or Greek Country Bread.

I always thought the handmade breads would be cool to try but was always a bit intimidated by them. They seemed to be so precise, so demanding that I did not know if it would be worth it.

Yesterday I received my first lesson in Bread Making 101. The process was lengthy at nearly five hours but the results were amazing.

I found out that bread really isn’t all that difficult to make, but there are a lot of steps and a lot of waiting. I also found that bread making is kind of a metaphor for life. Maybe that is one of the reasons for its popularity worldwide. Anyway…..

Top 10 lessons learned to apply to life:

1. It’s gonna get messy, so you better clean it up along the way.

2. It’s gonna get sticky, but if you expect it to you’ll be ok.

3. The recipe always calls for a specific things, but sometimes you gotta play it by ear.

4. Just because you think something should happen right now, something’s are just worth waiting for.

5. Waiting around for what you really want can be tedious.

6. When things are hot, you just gotta go for it.

7. Sometimes too hot can be a bad thing, but this generally only applies to oven temperatures and days spent in Mobile Alabama.

8. Just because something looks hard on the outside does not mean that inside it isn’t soft and wonderful.

9. Sometimes it comes out great and sometimes....not so great; either way you gotta own the results.

10. It's always more fun when you're surrounded by people that you love.

10-A. A nice bottle or two of red wine almost always makes things just a bit better.

The Result

Why I hate Black History Month

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 21:13:00 +0000

Driving to work this morning a radio DJ started to play “Midnight Train To Georgia” by Gladys Knight and the Pips. I got immediately excited because the song is simply one of my favorite songs ever and in fact as a child, I wanted to be a Pip. Suddenly my excitement became anger as the DJ said, and I quote: “In honor of Black History Month, Ms. Gladys Knight.

Forgive my language but WHAT THE FUCK?

So, in his mind he was contributing to the big socio-racial conversation by whipping out an old MOTOWN record?

Really?

It dawned on me that for many, that was what this month was supposed to be, a celebration of the people who are popular and accessible. Celebrating the ones “we know” and not worrying about digging too deep and getting the whole story. It confirmed in my mind the Black History Month has missed its mark.

February is Black History Month. In theory, it is an annual celebration of achievements by black Americans and a time for recognizing the role of African Americans in U.S. history. The event grew out of “Negro History Week,” the brainchild of noted historian Carter Woodson and other prominent African Americans.

I say in theory because sadly, this month of recognition has always seemed to miss the mark for me. Maybe it stems from the fact that in my skewed logic having to designate an official month to recognize anything diminishes that things importance. Put another way, making an “official” holiday or month means that whatever the subject is does not stand on its own merits and needs to be applauded to be recognized.

I find it sad that in 2012 we must be reminded to stop and think about the contributions made by an entire racial group. I find it even sadder that when we do recognize them we only hover around the people of that race that are easy to recognize; entertainers, actors, the most well-known leaders, etc.

I mean….. I get it.

Yes, Martin Luther King Jr. was a tremendous leader and had a deep impact on our world.

Yes, Louie Armstrong could play the shit out of that cornet.

Yes, Denzel Washington’s, Kareem Abdul Jabbar’ and Jackie Robinson’s stories are all far more accessible and easier to embrace than many others who have made far more impactful contributions.

We need to celebrate those contributions, but we need to talk about Madam Walker, Sojourner Truth and W.E.B. Du Bois even more. Fredrick Douglass had more impact of our society in one week than Usher has had in his whole life. George Washington Carver changed his world far more than 50 Cent will and in much more positive ways.

So, if we are going to focus on a race (and we should) then lets dig a bit deeper and assure that we see the full value of their contributions. Let see if we can’t get past the concept of Black History “Month” and realize that we all have played a part and the WE would not be US without the contributions of EVERYONE.

I hope that someday we can celebrate an OUR History Month where it won't matter who did what or what color that their skin was. I hope that someday that it becomes irrelevant that the person was black, white or magenta.

And when we do get there, I will celebrate….. quite possibly with some Gladys Knight played really loud.

My Mom would have been Damn Proud!

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 21:15:00 +0000

I remember my first day at Ball State like it was yesterday. My Mom dropped me off at my new dorm and a few minutes later a blond headed guy in camouflage pants burst into my room with a water machine gun and said “Beers in my room 7pm” and walked out. I thought to myself that I was indeed in new territory.

The big blond kid, as it turns out would be Troy Hammon. Troy would turn into a friend, then a fraternity brother and despite his obvious issues is now a successful teacher with a wife and some great kids. But the point is, the first person I met on campus would be connected to Phi Sigma Kappa at a later date.

Phi Sigma Kappa would be a reoccurring theme throughout my first few months at Ball State. This was mostly due to the fact that my dorm was loaded with them. They seemed to be cool enough guys and often Mark Anderson would buy pizza and talk about the house. Mark was a good guy that was built like a statue of Buddha. He would harass me about coming to the Phi Sig house. To be completely honest I really did not think of myself as the “Frat Boy” type.

The combination of not thinking that I was frat material and being dirt poor kind of confirmed in my mind that I would not be joining Phi Sig. But in Mark’s mind, I was joining and that was all there was to it.

After being asked and asked, I took a trip over to the house to meet the guys and attend a party. I remember walking into this ass ugly green farm house with this big front porch. I met a few of the guys and once again, they seemed cool enough.

I was standing on the big white front porch when two guys came out; one big hulking guy and one who was rail thin. The big guy introduced himself as “Sinker” and said “don’t ask it’s a long story”. The thin guy smoked like a chimney and shook a lot. He was to be called “Harry”. Standing there talking to the mountainous “Sinker” and the ever shaking “Harry”, somehow I decided that this was the place for me.

I was a mutt and they were indeed mutts as well and I figured that if they fit in….how bad could it be.

The next day I called my Mom and told her that I wanted to be a fraternity man. My mom blew a gasket, and gave me a dissertation regarding money and “buying friends” and beer and….. it just went on and on. So, I knew that if I was going to join, it would have to be secret and I would have to pay for it myself, which is what I did, only telling her that I had joined months later. I know that had I not met Mark, Jeff (Sinker) and Greg (Harry) I would not have even been interested in joining (I guess that we can all blame them). Ha

Mom eventually got her mind right and began to hate the idea just a little bit less. Over the years I remained a Phi Sig at Ball State, Mom would stop by the house and shake her head at the poor conditions and ask why I would want to live in a place like this. She did seem to start to ease up on the negativity when I was elected President.

Overtime, I don’t think she was convinced but she fought about it less. She even seemed to be proud to wear her “Phi Sig Mom” sweatshirt to work. I am guessing that it was her way of bragging a bit to her co-workers.

Over the years my involvement with Phi Sig has ebbed and flowed with marriage, moving and divorce. But, about a year ago, I was going through a bad period and several of my brothers were helping me through it and mom finally understood a bit better. She even went as far as saying “It is great that you guys are still there for each other.” And even threw in a “I really didn’t get it.” I was shocked that it was audibly mumbled. Crazy talk from the a woman that had fought tooth and nail to keep me from joining in the first place.

Sadly, the day she really would have truly “got it” was last Thursday. It was the day of her funeral and 1/3 of the people in attendance were my brothers from Ball State as well as brothers from Stetson and Valdosta State. Those same “bought” friends from 1986 were standing beside me as the day lingered on and a few helped me carry her to her final resting place.

I hope there is a heaven and that people do look down. If they do, I know she now “Gets it” and would be Damn Proud!

Steve Jobs-The loss of an inspiration

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 12:17:00 +0000

“Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose.

You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”- Steve Jobs

What can I say about Steve Jobs that has not already been said? I guess just that the man, the icon meant a lot to me. The news of his death hit me harder than most have in recent years. I didn’t know Steve Jobs, but I knew him. Steve had become one of my go to people when I wanted to rally myself up and try again the "nearly anything is possible" thought process. So, in death Steve once again teaches me that not everything is possible and that life is too precious to waste.

Rarely have I read the news of the passing of a stranger with more than a hint of interest. I remember when Elvis died and I knew that a legend was gone. I remember hearing about John Lennon and spending the rest of the day listening to his music and reading about him, strangely numb from the loss of a hero.I rememer thinking that Jerry Garcia would be missed and then having a beer in his honor. I remember seeing the report of Hunter S. Thompson’s untimely demise and somehow smiling thinking how he went out on his terms. That is about the extent of my memories of celebrity deaths, but Steve Jobs was different.

Steve was the man that taught me that beauty can bring as much value to something as functionality. Steve taught me that business could be cool. Steve taught me that you can be brash and demanding as long as people know that in the end you’re all really in it together. Steve also taught me that no matter what, in the end……it all comes down to the legacy that you leave behind.

So, today one less pirate roams the earth. Going forward there is one less genius, one less inspiration and sadly one less....earth shaker.

Thank you Steve, for being what I have always dreamed of being; you truly were a man in full. The world was better off for knowing you and you leave an incredible mark. Sadly, you also leave an incredible void.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life.

Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking.

Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice.

And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.

Everything else is secondary.

-Steve Jobs

February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011

Hey man.....I'm with the Band. Getting to know a great new band first hand.

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 18:03:00 +0000

“The best band in the world is playing tonight, and they are playing the Holiday Inn in Boise.”

That’s what I’ve said a hundred times before when I was confronted by the next big musical act that had overtaken the music scene. For every Lady Ga Ga or Justin Bieber created by marketing and media manipulation there are a hundred more talented bands that just do not get the same breaks. Nearly every city has a band that is made up of talented, skilled musicians and sadly they struggle to get recognition.

I have some friends that are there now. The band is Tin Cup Gypsy from Nashville, Tennessee by way of Arizona. This band is talented. This band plays real instruments, and they do it well enough to back up major musical stars like Sara Evans, Josh Turner and Orla Fallon, but they also do it well enough that backing stars is just not enough.

This band wants to make it on their own and trust me, this band is about to make it big.

Get to know these names; Jonathon and Jordan Lawson, Brothers and superior musicians that can play anything with strings. Jonathon sings and plays guitar, Jordan sings and plays mandolin and other stringed instruments. Tyler Oban plays percussion and may have the best hair on God’s green Earth. The other member of TCG is Cassandra Lawson, she has an angels voice, plays the concertina and when she walks onstage all eyes focus on her. Despite the fact that her talents are obvious, one cannot miss the fact that this is one beautiful lady.

I’ve seen them play a few times and always came away impressed by the musicianship and the cordial way they treated fans after the show. But last month, I saw them in a different light playing in a small venue in small town Indiana. Despite a smallish crowd they played the room like they were playing a 60,000 seat festival. They gave the same quality of show playing to 100 as they would to 2000, an ethic rarely seen these days, and that is one of the reasons that I think they are poised to “make it”.

After the show, the members of the band met me and my friends for food and beverages. After spending a few hours, you quickly learn that the cordial meet and greet they give fans after a show is no act. These are really good people, shockingly normal, charming and funny, they’ll tell you their life stories keeping you engaged for hours. The way they treat people and their natural personalities are the key to their future success. Are they talented musicians….Yes. Great voices….Yes. Honestly, there are hundreds of bands like that. But talent wrapped in the package of great people…. That is not so common.

Anyway, I could fawn over this band for hours. At the bottom of the page I have posted a link to their website. Please check them out. Watch some of their YouTube videos. If they come to your area, go see them. You will not be disappointed. Take the time to meet them and you’ll make new friends.

Their website: http://www.tincupgypsy.com/

"The Book of Me" - Authoring my authentic life

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 17:18:00 +0000

“Life’s a tragedy and it’s a comedy, but it should be a passion play.”

- Loudon Wainwright III

It’s up to us all to decide how we will live our lives; much of that decisions come from how we define it. In literary terms, it’s up to us whether we view it as a tragedy, a comedy or a mystery. We all know that over the course of our life we will experience all of those emotions. That is normal and we all ebb and flow between the ups, downs and indecision.

Where we get into problems is when we begin to live our lives as fables, metaphors, allegories and riddles and allow those things to define our thoughts of who we are. If we come to our end of times, we will realize that we have written a very false and unsatisfying story.

So, I challenge you to decide, what will your life be?

Will you build a life built upon hyperbole, simile and parables?

Will it be a comedy or an amusing anecdote?

Will it be a tragedy or a cautionary tale?

Will it be a mystery or maybe a riddle?

Maybe more importantly…..will it be an autobiography or a biography.

Some people live their lives as a biography, allowing others to write the chapters for them. Sadly these chapters are written from an outsider’s point of view. The outsiders know enough about the person to be an “expert”, but they only know the outer layers. They cannot help them write their authentic life.

I choose to live my life as an autobiography. It will be written by me and me alone. I am the guide and I am the author. I shall seek MY true path and live MY life. It may end up a tragedy but I am hoping for a passion play.

"We are addicted to our thoughts.

We cannot change anything if we cannot change our thinking."

– Santosh Kalwar

There I was hanging out with Magic Johnson.....or something like that.

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 16:46:00 +0000

Someone asked me the other day if there were any famous people that I had not met. They were joking of course, but I really have had the good fortune to be able to meet lots of famous and some infamous people. They asked me to name names of who I have met along the way.

The list is huge and someday I should write them down as best as I can remember, but I know that I would leave some off.

So, to satisfy the curiosity of some…..I’ll be a name dropper for the day.

Baseball- Steve Garvey, Randy Johnson, Carl Erskine, Reggie Jackson, Harmon, Killebrew, Joe Morgan, George Foster, and dozens of others

Basketball- Magic Johnson, James Worthy, Bonzi Wells, Mark Jackson, Bill Walton, Dick Vitale and several others

Football- John Madden, Peyton Manning, Steve Young, Tony Mandarich and many others

Racing- AJ Foyt, Michael Andretti, Dale Jr, Tony Stewart, Bobby Labonte, Kenny Bernstein, John Force, Nicky Haden and hundreds of others on the NASCAR, IRL, CART, MOTO GP, American Lemans and Rolex circuits.

Golf- Arnold Palmer, Tiger Woods, Lefty, Vijay Sing, Fuzzy Zoeller, John Daly, Steve Elkington and most of the tour golfers of our time.

Hollywood- Clint Eastwood, Andy Garcia, James Woods, Heather Locklear, James Brolin, Eric Estrada, George Lopez, Bill Murray, and a handful of others.

Art- Peter Max, Mackenzie Thorpe, Grace Slick (now an artist), and others.

Music- Tim McGraw, Clint Black, Dre’ and Snoop, Ratt, Kenny Wayne Shepard, Edwin McCain, Justin Timberlake, Alice Cooper, Darius Rucker and about fifty other bands

Politics/famous characters- Wavy Gravy, Tommie Smith, Sonny Barger, Jesse Jackson, and some others.

I met most of them through my jobs.

Would I say that any of us are friends. No.

Do I have a few of their personal cell phone numbers? Yes.

Have I had dinner with some? Yes.

Have I sat next to them at games? Yes.

Have I hung out backstage with some? Yes.

Have picked up a few at the airport? Yes.

Can I introduce you? No. J

You're better off giving up? Sorry man, not today.

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 11:24:00 +0000

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.- John Lennon

I read a study yesterday that concluded that pessimists were actually happier than optimists.

The theory is that people with a pessimistic view of the world were less disappointed when their life plans were not reached than those that were optimistic. So, if neither group reached their life goals then the pessimists (who knew that they would not happen anyway) dealt with it better than the less successful optimists.

This theory is counterintuitive at best. So, in this strange case of reverse logic people are better off to assume the worst and realize that no matter what they do they will never reach their dreams?

Sorry Professor, I can’t live like that. I cannot go through life assuming that I am screwed from day one. I have to keep hope in my heart and wish for the best. Some days that is the only thing that gets me out of bed.

I have a naturally pessimistic streak. I struggle with it every day. With that being said, I know that I am far happier when I try and stay on a positive thought path. If I lived by the theory of the study, I, like many would fall into a very negative thought pattern.

But, I’ve seen far too many people overcome and prosper. I’ve seen too many people follow crazy dreams and succeed to ever say that it is better off to never dream of more. I refuse to accept less than the best that this world has to offer.

So, call me crazy….I’ll try and stay positive and get up each day with some hope in my heart. As they say in the military, FIDO*, for those faint of heart the acronym’s definition is at the bottom of this blog.

“All human beings are also dream beings.

Dreaming ties all mankind together.”

-Jack Kerouac

*FIDO- Military jargon for “Fuck it, drive on.”

Reliving the 60's- One place at a time.

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 12:02:00 +0000

"If someone thinks that peace and love are just a cliche that must have been left behind in the 60s, that's a problem."

– John Lennon

1960-1969 were turbulent times in America. I love what those years stand for in our history and the changes those years brought to our country.

But I am also not naïve enough to think that it was a storybook time or that even all of America went through the same experience. I fully recognize a huge portion of American had two 1950’s and went straight to the 1970’s and missed the whole peace, love and hippie experience.

I fully understand that while some were deciding what to wear to the big dance others were organizing movements.

I “get” that while some were sitting in with the Beatles, others were “knee deep in rice paddies”.

But for me, the Haight-Ashbury, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Abbie Hoffman 60’s are how I prefer to think of that period.

I was born late in the decade in 1966. So, like many Americans I was there but pretty much missed it. Missing it was not my fault. It is hard to hoist a peace sign while carrying a blankie. I’d like to think that given a few more years I would have been in there fighting the good fight and standing up to the man. Sadly, my protest years were to develop way too late to make a difference.

So, I have to recreate those times by visiting some of the key historical places as I travel. I’ve had the good fortune to stand on some hallowed historical ground that most of us have seen only in textbooks or on the History Channel and I have met some of the key people that made it all happen.

I’ve stood on the corner of Haight and Ashbury where the Hippies spawned the peace movement and driven by the Altamont Speedway area that for one night was anything but peaceful.

I’ve touched the stage at the Monterey County fairgrounds where Jimi burned his guitar and I’ve hung out with some of the same Hell’s Angels that nearly beat Hunter S. Thompson to death.

I have looked out over the field where four students were gunned down at Kent State and out the window looking over Dealey Plaza where we lost JFK.

I have visited the Ebenezer Baptist Church where Martin Luther King, Jr. preached and also the Loraine Hotel where he died.

I’ve stood at the Vietnam War Memorial looking up the guys from my home town and I’ve laughed at photos of Ken Kesey’s, Merry Pranksters shown to me by an acquaintance.

I’ve met friends of Carlos Santana and enemies of the Grateful Dead.

I’ve had beers in Big Sur and thought of Kerouac, Ginsberg and the Beat boys and picnicked at Golden Gate Park with hopes of seeing girls “with flowers in their hair”.

I’ve met Wavy Gravy, Bobby Seale, Arlo Guthrie, Sonny Barger, Peter Max, Grace Slick and other 60’s notables with varying degrees of success. Wavy, the “mayor of the Haight” was funny, Sonny Barger, the “unofficial” President of the Hell’s Angels….was shockingly charming. Tommie Smith was a gentleman, Peter Max was the eccentric artist as I expected, Bobby Seale was cordial and kind, particularly for a Black Panther and Jesse Jackson was…..Jesse Jackson.

With every encounter I find that each one stirred a different unexpected emotion. Kent State hit me hard emotionally as did the Lorraine Hotel. Dealey Plaza left me wondering. Arnold Palmer had me speechless. Grace Slick made me sad.

But with each encounter comes a small bit of understanding and recognition of the times that were. So, I ask you to look at our history and find a period that means something to you, a time that touches you and intrigues you then go find those places and if possible the people.

Maybe you’re a Civil War person; then go see Gettysburg, Pickett’s Mill, Antietam and Manassas.

If you’re a World War 2 person, visit Toccoa, Normandy and Iwo Jima.

Whatever your particular thing is, go to those places and make them real. You owe it to yourself and to those people who sacrificed for us to see the places where history happened and to understand them just a little bit better. If possible meet some of the participants, ask questions, and learn. Trust me, you’ll never regret it.

If you want to understand today, you have to search yesterday.

-Pearl Buck

Grandma Ratliff was right

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 12:16:00 +0000

In my job, I get to meet some amazing young people and they are some of the best and the brightest. I have been on the campus at Wharton Business School and held meetings at M.I.T. I have had beverages with guys who attended Harvard and some of the best Tech schools in the world and have walked away so impressed with these young people.

But every so often I meet someone who "jumps the shark". The outlier who truly believes that they are a gift to the world, yet are so undeserving of that mantle. I could wax on poetically about the amazing ones, but I'd prefer to discuss the one who is confused. I’d like to speak to the one that was a lot like the 23 year old…..me.

My Grandma Ratliff used to have a saying. She would say…

"I'd love to buy him for what he's worth and sell him for what he thinks he's worth. Then I'd be a wealthy woman."

Have you ever known a person like that?

I do, and I feel sorry for him.

Not in that, “oh my, that’s a horrible disease" way, but more in the “Man the reckoning is going to be hard for you” kind of way?

I have an acquaintance that definitely falls into the latter category.

Bright, 20 odd, handsome, so much potential

The world hates him. Well, not everyone, just anyone who spends more than five minutes and see’s the real him.

Yet he walks the earth as a self righteous man. Arrogant to a fault, he is self serving and judgmental of everyone he comes into contact with.

I feel sad for him because I used to be him.

He believes that he is the smartest guy in the room and sadly is not even the smartest guy on his end of the table.

I feel sad for him because I used to be him.

There will be a time, when he gets a real job and he will act then like he acts now and Joe Paisley Tie across from him will crush him. Sadly my acquaintance will not understand why.

I feel sad for him because I used to be him.

He thinks the world loves him….and they don’t. Because they quickly realize that he is only cordial if you can do something for him.

I feel sad for him because I used to be him.

You may ask why I feel sad for this person. He is obviously not a worthy person.

I feel sad for him because life has a way of bringing down some heavy stuff. When it does, self opinion has a way of paying the toll for your failings. During those times you stop being an ignorant 23 year old and you become a man. That is a hard transition. It will be hard for him to question himself. It will be hard to recognize that he did not know everything. It will be hard when he realizes that there were great people in his life that he dismissed so easily, while he now sits alone.

I feel sorry for him, but in the same time I would love to meet him at 33, 43 or 53 and watch the progression. I guarantee this, the 43 year old version or the 53 year version will be a different person…a better person. By definition alone, they would almost have to be.

“But time I cannot change. So here's to looking back. You know I drink a whole bottle of my pride and I toast to change to keep these demons off my back,
just get these demons off my back.

‘Cause I want to shimmer, I want to shine, I want to radiate. I want to live, I want to love. I want to try to learn not to hate,
try not to hate.”

- Shawn Mullins

Thanks for the inspiration J.L. - you know who you are.

Bucket List #34, Have Beignets at Café du Monde.

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 14:16:00 +0000

“In a Bourbon Street bar, I received my first scar

from an old man so tattered and torn.”

- Jimmy Buffet

I first heard those words around 1982, riding around in a car with my good friend Rob Slagle. On that day we had the windows rolled down and we made a promise that someday we would give New Orleans a go.

From that moment on I have been fascinated by all things New Orleans. It is simply a place like no other. It is a mixing bowl of cultures and one of the few places on Earth that being eccentric is not only accepted but encouraged.

“It’s a strange situation, wild occupation…Living my life like a song.”

New Orleans has many famous landmarks; The Acme Oyster House, Tipitina’s, Brennan’s, The Commanders Palace, etc. But there is one place that sums up New Orleans better than all the rest. That place is the Café du Monde. The Decatur Street coffee shop was founded in 1862 and has been open 24/7 ever since except for Christmas day and when the occasional hurricane blows through town.

“Coffee is strong at the Café du Monde. Donuts are too hot to touch.

Just like a fool, when those sweet goodies cool…..

I eat ‘til I eat way too much.”

The Café is known for its café au lait coffee, chicory blend and French style donuts called beignets’ and when a place is known for something worldwide, why mess with tradition?

The Café du Monde

This leads me to this morning, and my scratching off #34 on my Bucket List.

Café au lait and fresh beignets’

But the coffee and donuts really are not the point of this story.

The trip to New Orleans with Rob never happened. It was just another of the many things lost on a summer night when a motorcycle crash took his life in his early 20’s.

It may seem like a small item on my Bucket List, but it was one that was a long time in coming. I leave with a joyful sense of a promise fulfilled and a hint of sadness for a friend long lost.

“Cause I’m living in things that excite me, be they pastries or lobsters or love. I’m just trying to get by, being quiet and shy in a world full of push and shove.”

Thanks again for the inspiration Mr. Buffet

and to my friends Kamal, Jon and Larry for joining me on my mission.

Dreams vs. Fantasy, and yes.... there is a difference

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Thu, 04 Aug 2011 18:20:00 +0000

“All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection.

So I rate us on the basis of our splendid failure to do the impossible.”

- William Faulkner

There comes a time in every man’s life when you realize that some of your dreams are just not going to happen. They don’t need to be abandoned, but they do need to be re-shelved under the fantasy section of our brains. I have a nice sized area cordoned off for just those types of things.

Now the difficult part is differentiating between the dreams and the fantasies. The truly hard part is moving the long held dreams up on the fantasy shelf.

Some are hard:

Giving up my baseball dream was very hard and sometimes even today, I’ll think back to what if’s and get a bit sad. Now, I know that the Dodgers will not be calling a 45 year old to tell me to grab my first basemen’s mitt anytime soon. I will never tip my hat after a walk off homer and sadly, the Hall of Fame will not be asking for my bat. So, I have to file that one up on the shelf and I’m good with that. I’ll just look for my home runs in other places.

Some are easy:

Hiking the Appalachian Trail always seemed more glamorous than I am sure it really is and I’m not big on mosquitoes. My feet hurt after ten miles and I really like sleeping in a bed. I realized awhile ago that this was a romantic notion that was fueled by one too many Men’s Journal articles. I like the outdoors, but hiking 2,100 miles over seven months? Thank you, no. I’ve got places to travel, but this will not be one of them.

Some were inevitable:

Even at age fourteen, I knew that I was never going to see Bobby Keller’s Sister naked, but, that did not stop me from dreaming. I dreamed of proms, movies and date nights. Sadly, the fact she was nineteen and I barely fourteen proved to be too much of a hurdle. So, my Cameron Crowe-like fantasy of holding up my boom box or faithfully recreating some John Hughes inspired moment, to sway her affections , in reality was just never going to come. But then again, I doubt that I have missed much and have experienced many much better moments.

And some hurt:

Sometimes the really painful dreams involve second chances. Second chances rarely come; whether they are from past relationships, past lives, past successes or past failures. Those things are said to be in the past for a reason, they are gone. We all have things we would change or things we wish that we would have done differently, but recognizing that the more we live in the past the less that we are living in the now. Now is truly all that we have that is certain. So I need to keep my eyes forward and drive on.

I suppose that the point is this, knowing which things are possible and which things are not can lead you to a greater overall happiness. Sure, I can sit around and pine away for Dodger Blue, but that is clearly not going to happen. So, I need to invest that time accomplishing other dreams.

Now I’m not filing these things away forever. Fantasy time still needs to exist and we need to embrace it. Embracing it is not dwelling on it. There is nothing better on a sleepy Saturday afternoon than nodding off to my little fantasy that I like to call “Jim’s Home run Derby”. But if I let my “failure” to have accomplished all my “dreams” make me a bitter old man, that’s a problem. I refuse to tie my whole life and my daily attitude up with dreams that were actually just fantasies gone unfulfilled.

The key is to know the difference between dreams and reality

and learning how to embrace one…………….

without completely losing the other.

Working with a "Life Coach"

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 12:41:00 +0000

We all need a mentor or guide from time to time, so I have decided to work with a life coach. It’s a weird thing for me. I don’t talk about myself easily and I am much more comfortable helping friends work through their stuff.

In fact, I “coach” others on an informal basis often getting many calls, emails or texts a day to discuss other people’s current situations. I love doing it and I sometimes think that I help them come up with things that they may not get to on their own.

But now I think that I need someone to do that for me. I am blessed to have so many close friends, so with no offense intended to anyone, I need an outsider’s neutral opinion. I need to talk to someone that has no vested interest in me and has not been there through it all.

Weird thought, isn’t it?

When you really try and figure out your life goals and who you are vs. who you want to be… you go to a stranger. But, when you need to get down to the real stuff you need to work with someone who can call your bluff.

This should be an interesting experiment. I am excited about the possibilities. I’m hungry for change and ready to listen.

OK Coach, give me your best shot!

What’s the worst that can happen?

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Sun, 31 Jul 2011 20:43:00 +0000

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."

- T.S. Eliot

What’s the worst that can happen?

I’ve said this phrase dozens of times, usually before some goofy risk challenge.

But truly, in every situation…. What really is the worst that can happen?

Sure there are concerns with every situation, new or old. "What if I stay? What if I leave? What if...?"

What’s the worst that can happen?

Is that truly a deciding factor? Odds are good that you really don’t think about it. So, why are our feet made of concrete? Why the hesitation?

What’s the worst that can happen?

Is your life in danger? Will you hurt another? Will it cause a divorce? Will you lose a friend?

If the answer is no…. then go for it?

We live in an amazing country where almost anything is possible….If we are willing to take the risks.

It’s only the lucky break that matters. The rest is up to you.

Fried Chicken and Waffles

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 15:59:00 +0000

Sometimes things just don’t seem to go together. When I first heard about the concept of fried chicken and waffles I thought to myself…. “This just may not work out”. But I pressed on as a group of friends decided to give it a go at Gladys Knight’s Fried Chicken and Waffles in Atlanta, Georgia.

When the plates arrived we all kind of circled around them not exactly sure how to approach this unholy concoction. I was afraid and uncertain on whether to slather syrup on the waffles for fear of it getting on the chicken, only to realize that the combination of the sweet waffle and the savory chicken was a natural combination. Our fears were wholly unfounded and we were both shocked and delighted.

I’ve tried it again in several places; Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles in Los Angeles and Maxine’s in Indianapolis. Each time I am delighted by the combination and I think back to my initial trepidations.

Life is kind of like that. Sometimes your initial angst over a situation is overtaken by the joy that it brings in another moment. Maybe it’s a first date that leads to a soul mate or a sports tryout that leads to a full trophy case, but we’ve all had those moments when we realize that our initial fears were completely unjustified.

It’s ok to let a little self doubt fuel you, if you don’t let it stop you. It’s ok to fear an outcome, as long as you’re open to the possibilities.

Don’t worry about it…. that is the good stuff. That’s the fried chicken and waffles of life.

“Every tomorrow has two handles.

We can take hold with the handle of anxiety or the hand of faith.”

- Henry Ward Beecher

A Wanderer's Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 18:25:00 +0000

“Not all those who wander are lost.” -J.R.R. Tolkein

It’s hard to love where you are when you’re always traveling. I mean that figuratively not literally. I have a difficult time being settled in one place when my heart is always wandering.

My heart lives in places where I am not.

I am a man with two hometowns, seven favorite cities and a damned good reason to be in at least five other places. So, my heart travels without me.

When I’m in Indy, I long for Monterey. When I am in Dallas, I miss Boston and don’t even ask me about Phoenix…..

It’s exhausting.

I can think of nothing sadder than unrequited love and when those lost loved places are ignored they will demand attention: whether it is physical or emotional.
What should I do when these thoughts take over? Should I ignore the pull of places long lost or should I smile and make a plan to find those places again?

I think today, I shall plan…….

“Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends,

but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers.

The mind can never break off from the journey.”

– Pat Conroy

I wanna Dance! No Really......

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 13:46:00 +0000

Damn it, I have a confession to make.

I wanna dance!

No......really

Yeah I know what you’re thinking and no, I’m not going to be out there flailing away anytime soon. But it’s something that I always wished I could do. However when you’re built like a fire hydrant, you’re probably better suited to play Full Back than emulating Patrick Swayze.

Oh, there was a time when I would watch Fred Astaire and think “Jim, you should be a hoofer” only to try a move that resembled an epileptic seizure more than a rhythmic dance. Now, no offense intended to anyone who’s an epileptic, but I have the rhythm of a bull moose and it was just not meant to be.

In my High School years, I watched as the guys at school would go out on the gym floor and dance. I envied the fact that they had girls lined up to dance with them. It was many years later that I realized the girls were lined up because there were only seven guys willing to dance and three hundred girls. So, the odds were indeed, clearly in their favor.

Generally, I too was busting a move….. way over there, next to the punchbowl. My friends and I would watch the “bad boys” break dance and marvel at Billy Gribbons as he would twirl and spin, replete in his parachute pants and that Michael Jackson “Thriller” jacket. God, how I wanted zippers and nylon pants, but they too really weren’t designed with me in mind. We thought he was cool, but then again, we were too afraid of him not to think that. I mean, he thought he was cool and that was plenty good enough for us. In retrospect, it would have been so much cooler if Billy weren’t a white dude with a fro, but I digress.

In fairness, my High School years were not exactly filled with dance classics and my not being Danny Terrio really didn’t affect me all that much. I mean, I knew I was never going on Dance Fever, so I was content to listen to Van Halen, The Who and The Clash. …you know music that you could head nod to. Until the summer of ’86 and the Kinks made dancing seem cool again when they sang…….

“Come dancing, Come on, and have yourself a ball.

Don't be afraid to come dancing, It's only natural.”

Damn you Ray Davies, why must you taunt me?

Every so often, I’ve been haunted by the dancing bone. Every now and again, I hear that familiar voice like some sirens song saying “Come on Jim, you can do it” only to crash on the rocks of rhythm, coordination and self consciousness. Because as we all know everyone was looking at….me…..and we......can’t have…that.

Later in life I’ve witnessed many people out there dancing and just going for it. Sometimes there is someone on the floor with moves reminiscent of a mating sea lion and they are blissfully unaware of their skills or lack thereof. Many times I have seen people watch and laugh. Sometimes…. I have even been that guy. But the dancers were the ones who should have been laughing, knowing that they were the brave ones.

There is a great quote from the movie Tin Cup about defining moments “when a defining moment comes along, you define the moment... or the moment defines you.” Well I refuse to be defined as a non-dancer. I’m ready to be one of the brave ones.

Next time I’m going out there and……pray for a slow dance.

Baby steps man….baby steps.

“Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
and when you get the choice to

sit it out or dance……dance”

Grandpa, Space Ships and Me

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 12:14:00 +0000

42 years ago today, on July 20, 1969, Neil Armstrong Armstrong said "I'm going to step off the LEM now" He turned and set his left boot on the surface of the moon. Then spoke the famous words…..

"That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind."

From that day on, space ships played a part of many of my childhood dreams. They were fascinating and the people who rode upon them were my heroes.

My love for space ships came honestly. I learned about them from my Grandpa who admired them so. Looking back, I’m sure that they were an amazing thing for the simple man from Kentucky. His life’s travels totaled four states and about a thousand miles. The idea of going to the moon was unimaginable.

On December 7, 1972, My childhood changed a bit. I remember my Grandpa calling me into the living room to watch TV. Walter Cronkite was talking about the Apollo launch that was happening that afternoon. We sat and watched every minute of the coverage from the staging to the launch. I’m not sure who was more excited about the launch, him or me, but I know that I remember it in detail. I remember the countdown, the launch and the excitement in Grandpa’s voice as he screamed “Jimmy, would you look at that.” I’ll never forget the moment or the man.

As an adult, the Space program and its various launches have always brought back memories of those childhood dreams and my Grandpa. Unfortunately, tomorrow those regular reminders will go away when the last Space Shuttle lands on terra firma. But today, I choose to remember the man who showed me how to "keep my feet on the ground but keep reaching for the stars."

Grandpa was a hulking man. His tastes were simple and came from being a child of the Depression. Always soft spoken and kind, I do not remember him ever raising his voice to anyone. He spent his days as a Tool and Die Maker at the local appliance factory and his evenings in his recliner chair watching the news and Lawrence Welk. As near as I can tell, there were only a few things in life that ever got his true attention; The Cincinnati Red Legs, Walter Cronkite, space launches and me.

I remember him coming home from work and quickly finding his recliner and me quickly finding his lap. When you’re a small boy, the lap of a man this large was a place in which you could disappear. I remember to this day his musty smell from a day at the factory and I always thought that he smelled like soup. I would watch in fascination as he would roll his own cigarettes and lick them sealed. Sometimes I would pick up his Zippo lighter, the one with the Rebel Soldier and the phrase “Rebel Yell”, and light the cigarette for him…..always to my Grandma’s chagrin.

We would play banjo on the porch, Listen to the Reds, mow the yard and chop wood. Chopping wood was high on my Grandma’s watch list, because she was certain that my five year old fingers were in jeopardy. She would stomp and scream, lose control and yell that she would rather see a “Coal black rattlesnake in my hands” than the small hatchet that I used to massacre the tree stumps in the basement. I always thought that was funny. I mean everyone knows that you can’t chop wood with a rattlesnake.

As a child who’s Dad had died, I loved the man time with Grandpa. All the games, mowing and chopping were great, but my favorite times were when we would “run away”. Our version of running away was a walk to the local Village Pantry convenience store. We’d walk the five blocks talking nonstop about the Big Red Machine, buy some RC Cola’s and sit outside the store on a picnic table in the sun. He would talk to me about life and tell me that I "could do anything". Before we left, Grandpa would always insist that we “forgot” something and needed to go back in the store. It turns out that we always forgot baseball cards or green soldier men for me. We would walk home to a seemingly angry Grandma, who was mad because we’d been “gone all day.” Little did I know that this was all an act conjured up by my Grandpa to assure that we’d have to make it up to her by taking her into town for a piece of Kunkle’s pie.

That was the man that he was. He spoke of me going to college and chasing my dreams. He told me that there was a "big world out there, don't miss it"....implying that maybe he had. He wanted me to know that there was something more for me out there and when he said that I "could do anything", he meant it.

So, needless to say, a week ago, I was saddened to see the last NASA Space Shuttle take flight and I’m even sadder that tomorrow will be that last landing thereby ending the program. It will be one less reminder of the man and the role that he played in my life.

I fear that future generations won’t have these moments. Our sophisticated ways make it difficult to recognize the simple pleasures of life or the amazing ones. Xbox 360’s have replaced green army men, instant messaging has replaced long walks and now there is no more space program to fascinate young minds. Progress in many ways fuels the world, but are we “gaining the world, but losing our souls”?

This world needs more people that are willing to invest the time to be good teachers, coaches and role models. I pray that there are more guides and mentors that will take the time to teach kids about using their imagination, chasing dreams and the pleasure that comes from simple things. I hope that every kid finds people to teach them......like my Grandpa did for me.

“If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder ...

he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it,

rediscovering with him the joy, excitement, and mystery of the world we live in.”
- Rachel Carson

The Princess with the funny shaped crown

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 19:08:00 +0000

“‘I ask not for a lighter burden, but for broader shoulders.”- Jewish Proverb

In everyone’s life hopefully there are people that motivate and inspire them. I refer to these people as touch stones. A touch stone is actually an assayer’s tool for identifying precious metals. I use the term as a way of identifying precious people.

One of my touch stones is a little girl named Mariella. She was born with a very scary medical condition. I have the good fortune of calling Mariella’s Mom my friend. About six years ago, Kathy introduced me to this special little girl. The world knows her as Mariella. I know her as my Princess.

At only seven years old, the Princess has seen more of the world than most. Unfortunately many of those travels have been to some of the finest medical facilities in America. Mariella was born with a condition known as Ectodermal Dysplasias (ED). E.D. is a condition that causes the bones in her tiny skull to fuse instead of expanding as she grows. As her brain grows it pushes against her skull which cannot expand to meet that growth. The condition is very rare as are some of the other “less” threatening symptoms that are also part of the mix.

As I said earlier, Mariella has been tested in some of the finest medical facilities known to man. World renowned specialists at medical centers like Stanford University have tested her looking for answers to what causes her to suffer from this condition. Each time they have come back with only bits and pieces of a diagnosis. As rare as a disease like as Ectodermal Dysplasias is, Mariella’s version of it is even rarer and the continued fusing of her skull has required multiple surgeries to her head and face.

Through it all, my friend Kathy has been strong. She has kept it together as a single mom and has employed every option despite the costs or time commitment. People are sometimes described as being a “rock”. In this case, the woman has been chiseled from granite.

There is a saying about apples falling and trees and in this case the child is obviously her Mothers daughter; a mother of pride and dignity pushing through adversity and refusing to fail. This Mothers spirit permeates the child and that has shaped Mariella into one my touch stones. I hope to try and emulate her spirit and to live as she does; Fearless, engaged and enthusiastic.

Fearless to the point of being scary at times, she is unafraid of new places. She is unencumbered with the fear of striking out on her own. This child is an adventurous soul who has seen some of the worst that life has to offer and has come out unafraid to approach life on her terms.

Engaged and completely open to new people, she is always welcoming of strangers who quickly become her friends. Even those people who are at first distracted by her appearance soon only see the beauty of her soul.

Enthusiastic….The child is a fire ball. When others might hide in a corner, she is the typical seven year old. Dancing, singing and jumping as you would expect a child her age to do. Feeling bad? No problem. In pain from surgery? No problem. She does not let those “little” things deprive her of living life as she wants to live it.

So as I look at this child what do I see? Challenges? Yes. Obvious differences? You Bet.

But I also see a person that is overcoming obstacles and is not letting excuses get in her way. She reminds me to be fearless. She reminds me to stay engaged. She reminds me that the enthusiasm that you put into life and into relationships comes back ten fold. She reminds me to smile. She reminds me to live.

Thank you Princess.

“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.”- M. Kathleen Casey

Help Wanted: Superman, apply within

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Sun, 17 Jul 2011 23:37:00 +0000

I want to go to Darfur.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking…. “Well who doesn’t?” But, I’m serious. I want to go to the middle of that mess and see what I can do to help. I have no false pretenses about fixing the situation. I mean, this African region in Sudan has suffered through war and famine since before I was born and I know no one man can end the situation. But I am certain I can help.

“Don’t hesitate to do something just because you can’t do everything.”

I know me and I know that I would be forever changed. I know that I would be haunted by the memories and that I would never look at a steak from St. Elmo’s the same way ever again. I’m prepared to live with that. I’m at the point in my life when I want to be……changed. I want to feel. I want to be uncomfortable. I want to have nightmares. I want to wake up exhausted and feed kids. I want to feel grateful and be……forever changed.

What’s the alternative; living a life wrapped in comfort and bubble wrap? Living some Ward Cleaver-esque existance, sitting around on a Saturday debating on whether to go to Ikea, The Gap or Bob Evans?

Well, I’ll tell you what……. Fuck Ikea.

I need to find more personal battles to take up my free time. I need to pick my spots, whether it’s Darfur or any of the dozens of causes that touch me at my core. I need to dig in and stop being a hypocrite.

“and hypocrite used to be such a big word to you,

And it don’t seem to mean anything to you now.”- John Mellencamp

I know that I can’t do everything, but I can do something. It’s time for me to pick my spots and fight the good fight. I know that Darfur won’t happen anytime soon, but for now, I can help locally. I know that I can make a difference. Moreover, I have to make a difference.

“If not me, who? And if not now, when?”- Mikhail Gorbachev

I’m not Superman, I don’t have a cape and god knows the next time that I wear spandex will be the first. I am no miracle worker and my odds of walking on water are pretty slim. I know that I will not be able to help them all, but I can surely help one. I can, and I must and I promise you this…..I will try and carry the following words in my heart every day.

“There are two kinds of gratitude; the sudden kind we feel for what we take and the larger kind we feel for what we give.”

- Edwin Arlington Robinson

Join me, Wont you?

Thank you, but I do not need Viagra

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 15:54:00 +0000

I made the mistake of signing up on a website a few weeks back and now I am receiving 15-30 spam emails a day.....all wanting my attention and my money. I am amazed by the plethora of goods and services available at the mere click of a button.

At my fingertips at any given time I can purchase pharmaceuticals, earn a PhD, lose weight, buy tires, learn Spanish, order Viagra and support the Green Party all within seconds of each other. The transactional possibilities are endless.

Wait a minute, Viagra? That’s silly; I have no issues….down there. What have they heard? Who’s been talking? Good lord, that’s just…. Ridiculous!

And I like the Green Party well enough, what’s not to like about hippy girls, the Grateful Dead and Birkenstocks? I’m down with the hippies and I like trees, so there, I'm in….done.

But I don’t need tires, don’t watch porn, don’t like Bermuda, have no interest in Elle Magazine and I’m not sure that a degree from the University of Phoenix is even considered a real degree.

Spanish on the other hand…..I wouldn’t mind learning Spanish and 14 days does seem like a perfect timeframe for me. Get in fast, get out clean and 14 days later….Mi habla the Espanole! Or something like that, I may need something more to say than “Cerveza, Mi Amigo” next time I go to the Yucatan.

But I’m not joining the Moose Lodge or studying to become a nun. I don’t want free makeup or discounted pain killers and for the love of God, I refuse to buy any damned Viagra.

I mean, how did they hear about me…..anyway?

The Top 10 Best Fast Food restaurants in America

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 14:43:00 +0000

I have had the good fortune to be able to travel the country for my job. This traveling gives me perspective on many things. One of the things that I get asked about the most is food. People approach me and ask for recommendations for cities that they will be visiting. So, I thought that I would put together my list of the ten best fast food places in America.

Disclaimer: These are only my opinions. Past history is no guarantee of future success. Your actual results may vary. Not licensed by, or affiliated with Major League Baseball.

My Top 10 Fast Food Joints in America.

1. The Varsity- Atlanta GA.

The Big Daddy of them all, The Varsity was founded in 1928 and has kept Atlanta stocked with Chili Burgers, slaw dogs and Orange Whips ever sense. Located just minutes from the Georgia Tech campus, The Varsity is packed to its rafters on Saturdays during the football season ("Have your money out and your food on your mind, and I'll getcha to the game on time!"). Then again, it’s packed every day. But be forewarned, before you step up to one of the dozens of registers. You better know what you want and make it snappy, because you’ll hear “What’ll you have, what’ll you have” being barked at you by the cashiers as you walk up. Linger too long, and you’ll hear “Next”.

2. Hollis Burger- Hollis, Queens, NY

Hollis Burger is in the heart of Hollis, Queens, One of the Hip Hop capitals of the world. When you walk into Hollis Burger, that point is made abundantly clear by the Hip Hop memorabilia that is hung on the walls and ceiling. Owned by a close friend of the band Run DMC, Hollis Burger is known for their unbelievable hand pattied burgers, each one cooked to order. They make the best burger that I have ever encountered, but don’t ask for a Coke because they don’t have any. However, they can hook you up with some purple drink made in five gallon containers on site.

They take some time to cook, so look around, check out the autographed shoes and photos, and talk to the staff. I was the only white boy within four miles when I went there and the staff kept me entertained by inviting me into the kitchen. They showed me their process on making the burgers and steaming the buns. They also busted my balls a bit laughing and telling me “White Boy must sure need a burger.”

3. The Papaya King- New York, NY

Nearly 80 old, The Papaya King is one of those quintessential New York experiences. Started as a juice store, The Papaya King nearly went out of business until they started selling hot dogs to German- American immigrants and the rest as they say….is history.

4. Belle Isle Seafood- Boston, MA

Only two words need to be said here; Lobster Roll. Spectacular in its simplicity, the lobster roll at Belle Isle is a life changing experience, Belle Isle may not be an upscale place and you’ll probably wonder if you’re doing the right thing by walking in. Please do, this menu was blessed by the seafood gods and fit for Poseidon himself, the lobster roll, however is better left to us mere mortals.

5. Tony Luke's- Philadelphia, PA

Philadelphia is known for their cheese steaks and Tony Luke’s is no exception. What sets Tony’s place apart is their service and the fact is an actual sit down restaurant. Tony Luke is a restaurateur, actor and musician. He is also one scary looking dude and when he comes to your table to chat, be on your toes. He may just sit down and tell you his life’s story. He did with me and I am glad to have had the experience.

6. Pink's Hot Dogs- Hollywood, CA

Quite simply Pink’s is Hollywood. Started in 1939, Pink’s has been handing some of the best hot dogs in the world out of its walk up windows to movie stars, tourists and area workers ever since.

The place is always busy and you will wait, but the good news is that you may be waiting standing next to Andy Garcia or Jimmy Kimmel.

7. Hot Doug's Encased Meat Emporium.- Chicago, IL

If there is such a thing as a gourmet hot dog, Hot Doug’s has it. Hot Doug’s has quite simply the best hot dogs known to man. Located off the beaten path, the only reason that you would come to this neighborhood restaurant would be to seek out a nirvana inducing encased meat experience. Plan ahead and give yourself extra time, the lines are long. You’ll wait thirty minutes to get in the door and ten more waiting to get to the counter, but don’t give up….Heaven is just around that corner.

8. The Falafel Drive In- San Jose, CA

I know what you’re thinking… falafel? Yes…. falafel. The Falafel Drive In is not a place that will catch your eye as you drive by. It will not suck you in with neon signs or blinking lights, because they have none. Nor do they have many other niceties that you might expect in a modern restaurant. Small tables create cramped quarters, but when you taste their falafel….you forget to care.

9. Nathan's Famous- Coney Island, NY

Nathan’s began in 1916 when Nathan Handwerker began selling his hot dogs for a nickel on Coney Island. Many years later Nathan’s truly is famous for their hot dogs and the hot dog eating contest that is held on Coney Island every July 4^th. I put a dent into a few but could not come close to the eating contest record of 68 which truly is too much of a good thing.

10. In-N-Out Burger- Gilroy, CA

As the only chain restaurant on the list, the experience of eating at an In-N-Out burger is like no other. As you stand in lines twenty deep you have to send a member of your party out to try and snag a table, especially if you want a choice outside spot. The wait is miserable but the food is worth it or should I say the hamburgers are. When your number is finally called you get handed beautifully cooked burgers, wrapped in paper to keep the juicy burgers from dripping down your chin. Heaven on a bun in the sunshine…. Just can’t beat it.

There it is.... my list. Sometimes I can be right, sometimes wrong and sometimes I am completely full of shit. So, make your own list, but make sure and send me your favorites.

Anybody have any insight on a great taco joint in Boise? C'mon, hook a brother up.

The Perspective that Cancer Brings

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Thu, 14 Jul 2011 18:50:00 +0000

Life is short, Live it.
Love is rare, Grab it.
Anger is bad, Dump it.
Fear sucks, Face it.
Memories are sweet, cherish it.

I once read a book written by Richard Carlson called Don’t sweat the small stuff….and it’s all small stuff. The book was about dealing with life’s simple irritations and pressing on under adversity. I liked the title and considered it a great catch phrase when little things started to mount. I tried to take the philosophy of the book to heart, with little actual success, insisting on dwelling in the minutia of the daily grind.

For many years, that is how I have lived my life; sweating the details and waiting for the next issue to become a distraction. I have made mountains of molehills and had too many sleepless nights to count.

But a few months ago I had a revelation or should I say a revelation was thrust upon me. My Mother was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. When the Doctor looked at us and said the phrase ending in “nothing that we can do” it was one of those surreal moments that you only have when life hands you a big one.

My Mom and I have always had a close but trying relationship. It was tense at times due to our overall life philosophies and the differing ways that we viewed the world. We were both rigid in our beliefs and these differences were sometimes debated, sometimes screamed about and sometimes the only thing we could agree upon was to disagree.

Her guarded, small town, fearful ways were in direct conflict with my wish to live by the seat of my pants and see the world mentality. I thought she was wasting her life because she was missing it and she thought I was too flighty and could never settle. I traveled and she stayed home. I had many friends and she was somewhat of a loner. There were so many differences, but thank God for the few similarities otherwise there might have come a time where our relationship might have gotten strained beyond repair.

But, I will tell you this….when the man in the white coat says “cancer” and “terminal” in the same sentence those differences really stop mattering quickly. I found that the small stuff (and compared to that it all is) just fades away. Dennis Miller the genius comedian has a theory that he calls “The lump in your armpit theory’’. In his theory, you stop sweating the daily crap when you discover the lump. At that moment, nothing else matters.

So, I’m spending more time with my Mom visiting and cooking meals. We talk more on the phone and I exercise a patience that I have never showed before. I will not lie and tell you its easy and that every moment is a priceless gem but they are moments that I will not get back. I hope to make the most of every one of them now and I hope that this serves as a reminder to live each day fully because there are only so many tomorrows to go around.

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take,

but by the moments that take our breath away”

The Traveling Jones

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 18:27:00 +0000

Dallas

If I can give you any advice.....it’s travel. Your body will hurt but your soul will flourish.

Be a part of the global picture. Get out of your comfort zone. Ask questions. Learn. Go to the airport bar, it's worth the $7.00. You'll be amazed at who you meet along the way.

To my new friends in Dallas....

Jen the lesbian, from Denver by way of Wisconsin who made me laugh. You’re my soul mate in another life. Maybe if things were different.....

"Joe" from Uganda, thanks for the five minute version of how you ended up in Dallas.

Cosel, my doe eyed Romanian Brother who tends bar at the airport and hopes people leave “moren a buck" and deserves much more than 20%. You taught me about life in "Delis" and the "Romeenian mobs" and may have been the funniest guy I've ever met. I still say the accent is money. Work it my man.

Ben from Marin, who films documentaries about fishing and wants to be Scorsese. He shoots films about trout.... and salmon for Canadian TV? Who knew? Give it time. Shit man you’re in Peru next week and British Columbia the week after. Enjoy it.

And to the drunken guy still waiting for his "girlfriend" to meet him at the airport..... Chicks not coming.....and you’re a bit of a dick..... Just sayin'.

Life is truly about people. Good or bad they all leave an impression.

Make sure you take time to notice.

The joy of watching others "win".

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Ratliff) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 19:15:00 +0000

In life everyone runs.

The hard part is deciding whether

you’re running from something or towards something.

I had the opportunity to go to a triathlon on Saturday. The event, The Muncie 70.3 was a swim-bike-run triathlon which was open to pros and amateur competitors and is a qualifier for the prestigious Ironman series. The 70.3 refers to the combined miles the contestents cover during the event.

I attended the event with a good friend who is knowledgeable about the sport. One thing my friend said repeatedly was that most of the participants “Have a story”. He meant that everyone is out there for a reason and those reasons vary as much as the body types of the nearly two thousand competitors. Some were sleek and athletic and others were downright chubby. There were ladies in wheel chairs and men with prosthetic legs, all racing for their own reasons. Were they running from pain? Beating an addiction? Finding themselves through moments of Zen? Who knows, but I was humbled by their perseverance and their pride.

I went to the event to support a competitor, my good friend Sean. I have known Sean for roughly twenty years. We are both members of the same college fraternity but are separated in age by several years. Sean has his "story” too. I knew him when he was a cocky undergrad and watched him struggle through the cancer treatments that nearly took his life. I also watched that experience humble him and make him the tremendous man that he is today.

Sean competes in triathlons. He’s not particularly fast. He may never win an event. But for him, competing is about much more than winning. To him the act of doing the training and participating is winning. It is his way of looking cancer in the eye and knowing that he won the battle and is winning the war.

I was overwhelmed to witness all the "stories” on display on Saturday. I would love to know more about many of the competitors and their particular reasons. I’m sure I missed out on some very inspiring details, but on this day one story mattered the most and I will always be happy that I was there to share in my friends’ personal victory.

“Victory is sweetest when you’ve known defeat.”- Malcolm S. Forbes