Life 101

Box Fan

2012-02-12T20:01:00.000-06:00

The power went off last night about 3 a.m. No apparent reason, I guess the electrons just go tired of zooming down the country lanes at close to the speed of light so they stopped.

I know this because we sleep with a box fan by the bed and when the blades stopped turning, I woke up.

People ask me why we sleep with a box fan year around. To explain, I'd have to go back a ways.

We moved to where we now live in 1980 from the small town of Sumiton. Even though the town was small, you could hear the drone of traffic from highway 78 and it never stopped.

Tractor trailer trucks moving freight from Memphis and points further west, blew through Sumiton on their way to Birmingham, Atlanta, and points east.

Deep into the night you could hear them through the thin walls of our mobile home, slowing down at the red light on the highway and then crawling back up to cruising speed one gear at a time....allllllll nighttttttt looooooong.

We bought us a box fan and turned it on low. The fan was the perfect solution. It ran spring, summer, fall, and winter. The gentle whir of the fan drown out the sound of the trucks.

When we moved to the country, we didn't have to contend with the sound of the trucks, but it was so quite here that you could hear owls, coyotes, dogs and roosters in a crowing allllllll nighttttttt looooooong.

Since we'd become accustomed to that gentle whirring sound of the fan, we used it here too. When we travel, we have a travel fan that we take with us.

This morning when the power went off, my eyes opened immediately when the blades stopped turning.

I slipped out of bed and using my iPhone for a flashlight, I went into the office to report the outage. Less than an hour later, we heard that familiar sound.

I was asleep before I made a mental note of the time.

Stand a little rain

2012-02-11T20:23:00.002-06:00

Today's been a sad day. Jilda and I attended the funeral of our friend Carl who lost his only son in a car wreck this week. Adam was only 25.
When Adam was about 12, his dad asked if I'd give him a few guitar lessons. I love teaching kids how to play so I stayed after work and taught him some chords and a few songs. He was very intelligent, and quickly learned what I had to teach.
Today when we talked to Carl, the anguish on his face was painful to see. I had no words, so both Jilda and I hugged him for a long time.
This afternoon, I checked my email and I got another piece of bad news.
I did a story last month that ran in The Homewood Star about a couple that had been married for 71 years.
The story ran in the February edition to coincide with Valentines Day. The email I got was from Jake and Margaret's grand daughter who said that Jake passed away today.

Margaret and Jake Monte

She thanked me for the story saying that it made them both very happy, but her note made me very sad.
If life were all "highs" you'd begin to take if for granted. For every yin, there is a yang.
Donnie Lowery, a songwriter we met years ago wrote a song for The Oakridge Boys called --
If we're ever going to see a rainbow, we have stand a little rain.
Well I guess you could say, it rained a little today.

2012-02-10T20:09:00.000-06:00

I've tapped the letters off my keyboard, but nothing's appeared on my screen. You'd think that with all the advances in data modeling, graphic design, search algorithms, and crowd sourcing that it could grasp that I'm struggling and come up with a decent title and opening paragraph or two.
But either that functionality has not trickled down to the masses or else it's a software add on that costs more than a new Lincoln Town Car.
At any rate, here I am on Friday night and I can't get a spark of an idea with a Zippo full of lighter fluid and a fresh flint.
Jilda waltzed in typed for a few minutes, clapped her laptop closed, and said over her shoulder as she drifted out of the office -- I posted.
I wanted to smack her....but unfortunately all the dogs adore her and would eat me like a milk bone if I laid a hand on her.
So, my dear readers, this is the best I can do tonight. I hope you all have a great weekend.

Life is Short

2012-02-09T19:53:00.002-06:00

I went into the office for a staff meeting today. My boss asked if I'd like to go to a luncheon at The Club after the meeting. It's a private club in Birmingham perched on the crest of Red Mountain and it's visible when you're driving into the city from the north, east, or west.

It's been years since I've been to The Club, so a visit to the top of the city on a beautiful day sounded just fine to me.

A lot of times when you go to these functions, the food is only slightly better than what's served in prisions, and those belly up to the bar all-you-can-eat places. But the food at The Club tasted good to me today.

They have orange rolls that were very good. There were a couple of empty chairs at our table and I was tempted to put the orange rolls in my pocket and take them home to Jilda, but I had several afternoon appointments so I left them on the table.

I know I probably looked like a hillbilly (there's that word again) that doesn't get out a lot, but I walked out on the patio and shot this self portrait with the city in the background.

I couldn't care less what someone thought because I've become shameless when trying to get a good photo for my blog.

It's funny, because I've reached a point in my life where I don't spend much time worrying what people think about me. That has not always been the case, but the older I get, the less I care.

Life is too short to pass up the good stuff because you're afraid of what someone might think.

Stupid is as stupid does

2012-02-08T20:03:00.000-06:00

A good friend just posted a photo and a quote by John Wayne who said Life is hard, but it's harder if your stupid.

As my grandma used to say, that's puttin' the hay down where the goats can get it. Translated to modern, non-hillbilly terms -- Wow! John used accessible language, to say something true and quite profound.

The thing is, I'm living proof of the truth of this quote. I'm not always stupid, but when viewing some of the boneheaded things I've done in the past through the lens of experience, I would be hard pressed to deny the shoe fit.

I think the trick is this -- when you do something stupid, fess up. Own it. Only someone who is chronically stupid would deny they did something stupid, knowing that all the smart people know they not only did something stupid, but behaved stupidly afterwards by denying it.
Does that make sense?

When you take responsibility, you grow. And if a similar situation comes your way again, you have the opportunity to behave differently.

As Forrest Gump says -- Stupid is as stupid does. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

VD Advice

2012-02-07T20:24:00.002-06:00

Jilda's Valentine's gift came by mail today and I'm 100% sure that she will love it. I stopped playing the percentages years ago. Life is too short to eat Kibbles and Bits.

I latched onto a method of getting her gifts that is failsafe. I hand her my American Express card and tell her to buy something she really wants.

Some guys might think this is playing loosey-goosey with my plastic, but we have rule. She spends on me what I spend on her.

So she knows if she goes over board on herself, she might have to work overtime to earn enough dough to buy my gift. I'm telling you it's genius.

If any guys are reading this blog before Valentines Day you should know umbrellas or any kind of kitchen appliance is not an appropriate Valentines Day gift. I'd steer clear of gym memberships, and weight loss gift certificates too. That screams HONEY I'D LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DROPPED 20 POUNDS. If you do these things, you're dancing with the devil. This is experience talking here.

Now the only thing left is to find a really cool card. I've spoiled my spouse a little because for years when I worked a day gig, I had a little place near where I worked that had killer cards.

But apparently not enough people shopped there so they went out of business. So this year I'm on a quest to find a card you can't buy at Walmart. I need one that says, "Honey, you're the reason I breathe."

If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears.

When You're Tired

2012-02-06T22:18:00.000-06:00

Today was a long day. I could go into details, but I'd bore you to tears, much like I bored Jilda on the way home from yoga tonight.

We learned when we took her Volvo in for servicing this past week that the head gasket was leaking just a little which caused the engine to leak a little oil and water. I told her we'd need to take it in soon for repairs.

She was whupped but to keep the conversation alive, she asked what replacing the head gasket entailed.

As I drove I went into detail about how they'd have to remove the head and send it to a machine shop and the machinist would then shave a little off the head to make sure it was perfectly flat so that they new gasket wouldn't leak when it was installed.

I glanced over and the lights from the dash cast just enough greenish light to make her look like an alien.

As I droned on she yawned. I'm not talking about one of those quick yawns where she covers her mouth with her hand to keep from being rude, but a yawn so big that you could almost hear her jaw muscles stretching.

I'm guessing the words were sliding through one ear and out the other. If I'd leaned over and blown in her ear, I'm sure it would have whistled.

I said to her, so I guess you'd rather not hear about the fuel system and the hydraulics tonight. She laughed so hard that she snorted, and so did I.
We do that sometimes when we're really tired.

Fun Sunday

2012-02-05T21:24:00.001-06:00

Our friend Randall lives in Oregon but he's here in Alabama now because his dad has had health issues.
He flew here in a hurry so he doesn't have wheels.
Earlier this week he asked if we'd like to go to Daniel Day Gallery for the blues show they have every Sunday. I could almost hear the desperation in his voice.
The show started earlier today because of the Super Bowl, so we picked him up at noon:30. His mom, who is one of our dearest friends, sent a packet of corn chowder with him as "payment for babysitting this afternoon." We howled when he gave us the gift bag.
The Blue Devils rocked the place for hours. On the way out, I used the trusty iPhone to do this series of photos to capture the moment. It was a fun afternoon and I'm so glad we went.
Tonight, I watched the Super Bowl, more for the ads than the game, but I wasn't disappointed.
My favorite ad was the one that featured Clint Eastwood. It was a Chrysler ad, but I loved the message.
Here's the YouTube of the commercial. Y'all have a great week.

Smart Cookie Award

2012-02-04T13:54:00.002-06:00

Thanks to Julia over at My Writing Life for the Smart Cookie Award.

I think an award for slamming down cookies might be more appropriate :)

But thanks Julia.

I'm going to give one of these awards to my lovely spouse Jilda at Transformation Information because she consistently writes very thought provoking blog entries.

She also bakes great cookies.

Also one to my friend Charles Kinnaird at Not Dark Yet because of his thought provoking posts.

I'm also supposed to write some interesting facts on anything, so here goes:

1. Albert Enstein's parents were worried that he was mentally too slow because he took a long time to learn how to speak.

2. 150 couples get married in Las Vegas each day.

3. 22% of people skip lunch daily.

4. A fire in Australia has been burning for more than 5,000 years!

5. Coca cola would be green if coloring wasn't added to it.

From Wacky Facts

Yawning

2012-02-03T20:45:00.000-06:00

We played a singer/songwriter gig last night at Daniel Day Gallery and we didn't get home until late. It was well after midnight before I got to bed and that's way past my bedtime. So I've spent much of the day yawning.
Jilda worked today, so I ran down to the Chinese restaurant to pick up some moo goo gai pan, hot & sour soup for supper. I called ahead but they were swamped, so I sat on a bench and yawned.
I looked over at a lady at the end of the bench and she was yawning too. We both laughed out loud.
Seems she has a son who was badly burned and she's been at the hospital for days. She'd stopped by the restaurant to get something so she wouldn't have to cook. When they called her number, I wished them well.
I'm sit here trying to think of something clever to say, but my head feels like a stale block of hoop cheese.
Maybe I'll have better ideas tomorrow after a good nights sleep.
Y'all have a remarkable weekend.

Creativity

2012-02-02T23:57:00.000-06:00

I love creativity. It manifests itself in so many ways -- music, painting, photography, design, electronics, and chainsaw art.
I stopped in the local grocery store yesterday to get a roasted chicken for dinner and I saw this huge bear in the bed of a truck. I swung around the parking lot to get a better view and I was amazed.
This guy was from WAY up in the country, and he does chainsaw art.
I asked if he minded me taking a picture and he agreed, but he didn't look too happy when I asked him to stand by his truck.
When you look at the detail of these carvings, it's hard to imagine they were carved out of a single piece of wood with a screaming chainsaw.
I think I'm going to call him up and interview him....maybe shoot some video of him carving something out of a tree trunk.
As I said, I love creativity.

The Power of Words

2012-02-01T19:55:00.000-06:00

I was looking for a little inspiration tonight as I struggled with a topic for this blog. I picked up a journal from 1992 and read an entry I wrote long before blogging (as we know it) existed.
I wrote -- I want to take pictures, play music, and write stories about interesting people. At the time, I was a night shift supervisor in a data center and at times I felt like a ship lost at sea without engine, compass, or rudder.
I was trapped by the security of my job. We had bills to pay and I needed a steady paycheck. We'd built a new house a few years before, and I wanted to go back to college for my Masters degree, but I felt that was a pipe dream without a steady job with a regular paycheck. But that didn't stop me from writing those words in my journal.
I laughed out loud as I read those words tonight. Because today, I shot photographs today of high school kids who'd received sports scholarships to colleges around the country.
This afternoon, I interviewed a man who played football on a University of Alabama team that won two national championships. He got a great job after college, got married, had kids, then lost it all when he got strung out on pain meds after problems with kidney stones.
He was homeless for a few years -- he pawned his college national championship rings to buy drugs.
I don't want to say too much right now, because the story has not been published, but he did turn his life around and his story is nothing less than remarkable.
Tonight, Jilda and I are finalizing our set list for our gig tomorrow night.
So maybe you can see why I smiled when I read the entry from 1992 -- I want to take pictures, play music, and write stories about interesting people.
I think I can say with some authority that words have power. Even if you don't see any way possible that you can make something happen in your life, write down what you want.
I'm living proof, that it pays off.

Short Post

2012-01-31T19:58:00.000-06:00

We're blogging short tonight. Jilda and I have a gig Thursday night and although we've practiced a good bit, we have some new material that we haven't performed in front of anyone yet, and we're a little anxious.
OK, I'm wound tighter than a Banjo string (wow, the movie Deliverance just flashed through my mind).
At any rate, this is been a very busy week with deadlines knocking at my door. I'll have a little breathing room after tomorrow, and I'll be able to take a full breath by the weekend.
Take care and do something remarkable.

Time Moves On - Column from Sunday's Paper

2012-01-30T21:23:00.003-06:00

When you’re young you think you’ll live forever and age is such a foreign and distant concept. I can remember when I was 20, trying to imagine myself at 60 and I simply could not conjure up an image.

Never would I have believed that my hair would have gone south, and to be frank, I’m still a little peeved about that. But all in all, life has been good to Jilda and me.

Through the years, we busied ourselves with our daily routines — working, studying, writing songs, and playing music; and time moved on.

Things weren’t always easy, and money was often tight in the early years, but we managed. We both worked two jobs at times, and found a way to make ends meet.

Later we went to night school and got some degrees. Gradually our job situations began to improve. We built a new house and moved out of our cozy little mobile home ... actually, snug might be a better way of describing the trailer.

We planted flowers and fruit trees, and turned the new house into a home; and time moved on.

I think Jilda and I got along better than most. That’s not to say there weren’t times she got so angry with me, that she could have carved me up with a butcher knife and left me twitching in the laundry hamper with the wet towels and dirty sox.

There were times I fantasized about a similar fate for her, but those times were few. We learned to say “I’m sorry” and time moved on.

We were fortunate because my job with MaBell gave us an opportunity to travel all over the country on business. Jilda often traveled with me to San Francisco, Seattle, Boston, Atlanta, Miami, Mobile, New Orleans and Arizona as well as other places.

We continued doing the things we loved. We made new friends, played music and grew up together. I’m not sure we expressed enough gratitude, but time moved on.

Then a few weeks ago a doctor’s visit fired a shot across our bow. Jilda was sick with all kinds of bugs and infections for most of 2011. She’d gone in for yet another lung infection, and the pulmonary doctor found something abnormal in her blood work that hadn’t shown up before.

He was a little vague about what it meant, instead he referred her to another doctor.

When we looked up the new doc, it turns out she is an oncologist/hematology specialist. WHAT?

You would not believe the kinds of things your mind can conjure up when it’s not sure what you’re up against. It took a few long days to get an appointment.

I went in for the visit too, and as we sat in the examining room there were those medical posters hanging around that explained about lung cancer and its implications.

When the doctor came in and began talking about her findings, I blurted out — does she have cancer? I breathed a sigh of relief when she said no, but there is still a problem with Jilda’s immune system they have yet to pinpoint, but it sounds like it’s treatable. We’ll know more in the coming week after more tests.

The lesson that we’ve both learned is that it’s too easy to let days, weeks, months and years slip by unnoticed — uncelebrated.

Time moves like a leaf on a slow moving river and it’s our intention to never forget this fact.

Winter Sunset

2012-01-29T20:00:00.000-06:00

One of our friends needed computer help today. Jilda had originally intended to go, but she ran out of steam today so I went alone.
I helped our friend solve a few problems that had been plaguing her for some time.
I headed out after sunset and a few miles from our house, I saw a couple of photo ops I couldn't pass up, even though there were impatient drivers behind me. I simply pulled to the side of the road and waved them by.
The first picture is of a pond that looks almost like an infinity pool.
The silhouette of trees against the evening sky, with reflections on the water is the stuff of impressionist paintings.
Then a few miles down the road, I came across another vista that had my truck on the shoulder of the road.
Again someone was on my bumper and was frustrated with me.
I made a gesture to say I'm sorry, but I think the driver thought I was being obtuse.
I sat for a few moments before I shot this photograph with my iPhone, and I sat for a long while after I captured the image.
I was awestruck with the simple beauty of the evening sky. I also wondered if the drivers following me noticed the ever changing scene unfolding before our eyes.
I wondered what could be so important to miss something that literally took my breath away.
In the grand scheme of things, what could be more important than a gift of a winter sunset?

Party Time

2012-01-28T21:13:00.000-06:00

I'm having fishing withdrawals. With all the rain we've had in the last few months, the level of water in the lake is high so the power company is running the turbines day and night.
That's good for generating power, but it's not good for fishing because I fish for trout below the dam and it's difficult to wade in 15 feet of icy water.
My boss at the paper wanted to go fishing today in Tennessee, but today was our great-nephew Jordan, and our great-niece Breeze's birthday parties and I would not have missed the party unless I had blood spraying from one of my orifices.
We showed up at the party place after 2 p.m. and it's a huge building with blowup slides, jumps, bouncy things, and other stuff for kids.
I menaced the kids for a while but Jordan kept chiding me. He wanted me to get on one of the big slides and chase him.
I pulled my shoes off and jumped on that big old honkin' slide. You climb up one side and slide down the other. Climbing up was a cinch, but sliding down was more of a challenge that I anticipated.
I wound up in a kind of a slide/roll/tumble maneuver. The kids thought it was hilarious. I acted as if I meant to descend that way.
Everyone had a good laugh including me, but I might be a little sore in the morning. Oh yes, Jilda might be a little sore too.

Gray Skies

2012-01-27T21:23:00.001-06:00

The rain this past week made the rivers around here wash high spots on the banks that have been "unwashed" for years.

I know I've written time and again how great it is to hear rain on a tin roof, but I'm here to tell you that you can have too much of a good thing.

I mean, if you slammed down a couple gallons of ice cream in an afternoon, or listened to Dark Side of the Moon 380 times in two days, or had sex............well, you get the idea. Enough is enough.

We've had a lot of rain this last week and I was about to get snippy about it, but our great nephew Jordan needed some Aunt Jilda and Aunt Rick time so he stayed with us yesterday.

When the rain slacked off or a few minutes, we bundled up and took him out for a walk to the barn. It's coded in his DNA. Whenever he comes over here, he has to go to the barn.

As we walked we came up on a mud puddle and he asked if he could run through it. I looked and Jilda and she looked at me and we said -- why not, your mama's not here!

He ran through the puddle and you could hear the pure joy he experienced.

It turn my gray skies blue.

World Song

2012-01-26T20:13:00.000-06:00

Jilda and I wrote a song several years ago, but I've never really been happy with its arrangement. We've played it fast and played it slow, but it never felt right.

For one thing, Jilda sings the song and the arrangements we'd played in the past never took advantage of what I call the sweet spot in her range.

Last night when we practiced, my fingers found those chords, and this time it worked. Even the first time we went through the arrangement, it was obvious that it's right.

It's kind of a world song. Some of our songs are inspirational, some are love songs, but some are what I call world songs. They tackle tougher subjects. This ones entitled The World Keeps Spinning.

It's my intention for us to record it over the weekend. I'd like to put some pictures with it and make a video. When I put it all together, I'll post it.

I have appointments all day tomorrow, so I'll spend a lot of time on the road. I hope you all have remarkable weekends.

Clouds

2012-01-25T21:00:00.001-06:00

It was warm enough to swim today. Well, not really, but it was much too warm for January.
I worked in town today and walked when I got home. I checked the blueberries and several of the bushes are blooming.....not good. I shot this photo with my phone as I walked.
I read that during WWII, the Germans could always spot American spies because they always talked about the weather.
I guess it's a good thing I wasn't a spy during the war, because looking back over my blogs, it seems I often write about the weather.
But that's because of the extremes. Several years ago we woke up to a dusting of snow on the deck. We suited up and frolicked in the white stuff all morning, and by mid afternoon, a warm front moved in out of the Gulf of Mexico and I put on my shorts and a tee shirt and worked in the back yard.
A few weeks ago, we had an earthquake. In 1995, Hurricane Opal made landfall in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida and roared through Alabama.
It was still considered a hurricane (winds of 75 MPH) when the eye came over our house in Empire. The wind howled and it felt as if someone were sitting on our chests......and we're 250 miles from the beach.
I cleared downed trees for weeks, and our power was off for ten days.
I haven't seen any locusts, or other pestilence yet, but I'm sure they'd feel right at home here in Empire, Alabama.

Missing My Brother

2012-01-24T20:24:00.000-06:00

My younger brother died in 2000. He was only 35 at the time. He'd made some bad life choices, but then who hasn't. His choices came back to bite him.
He was living at the Omega House in Houston at the time. It's a hospice place where people go to die.
I'm not sure why he didn't come home. He'd caused my mom to add a few wrinkles, and maybe he didn't want to add any more.
Jilda and I flew out to see him a few times, and I took mom out once. He died peacefully in his sleep.
It was a week of funerals. One of my best friends died unexpectedly of a blood clot. I did the his Eulogy. It's one of the hardest things I ever did.
The next day we got a call that another dear friend's mother was in grave condition. We arrived at the hospital moments before she died.
We were heading to her funeral when my cellphone rang. It was the Omega House.
It was not my intention, to make this a downer, but my brother would have been 46 years old on February 15 and I woke up thinking about him this morning.
He loved nice things. He had a great car, his clothes were designer and tailored. He owned the best things he could afford.
Last year as we were cleaning out my mom's house before we had to sell it, I found a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses.
I knew they weren't my mom's, unless she had a rich boyfriend she'd neglected to tell us about.
I then realized these were my brother's sunglasses. I guess the reason they were at my mom's house was because one of the arms (?) was broken, otherwise the glasses looked new.

I brought them home and put them in the drawer where I keep my special things. I wasn't sure what I'd do with a pair of broken Ray Ban's but it seemed like the thing to do. I'd looked online for Ray Ban repair and it looked like it would be anywhere from $40 to $80 do get the arm replaced.
Today I got up on a mission. I rifled through all my junk drawers looking for an old pair of cheap sunglasses. I found a pair that had lenses so scratched it was like looking through a kaleidoscope, when you wore them in the sun. But the arms were in perfect condition.
I got my jeweler kit and removed the arm from the scratched glasses and it fit perfectly on the Ray Bans.
I had to smile when I finished. Jilda snapped a photo tonight for the blog. Somehow putting the Ray Ban's back in service made me feel a little closer to my brother. I'm sure he'd be happy.

Magical Time of Day ~ Column from the Sunday Paper

2012-01-23T21:30:00.000-06:00

I love the time between dusk and nightfall. The other day I’d finished my writing and walked down to the barn to check on things.

I looked off to the west and caught the last glimmer of sunlight as it dipped below the horizon. The limbs of the bare oak and hickory looked like intricate webs against the dissolving light of the evening sky.

I sat down on a bale of hay tried to take a mental snapshot so that I could pull it up later. It was like looking at one of the great Old Masters’ paintings – so stunning, and yet so easy to dismiss without a second glance.

As I sat there, I could see a flurry of activity in the underbrush. Small birds and chipmunks scurrying around to find their place for the night.

I didn’t hear it, but when I looked up in the sky, I could see a jet that was so high, it looked as tiny a mosquito. The sun highlighted the contrail making it look like a trail of rose colored cotton yarn stretching across the sky.

That time of day seems almost magical. Carlos Castaneda talked about this in one of his books. I don’t recall the quote and I don’t want to butcher his words, but I always feel strangely energized during the time between daylight and nightfall.

For some reason, it reminds me of a feeling I got when I was much younger, when I was getting ready to go out on a date. Even if I’d busted it all day long at work, I’d be excited about seeing my girlfriend and going OUT.

The first date I ever had with Jilda was in 1968. I picked her up at dusk and when we walked out, she was wearing a really short peach-colored skirt. I can remember thinking, “I can’t believe your mama and daddy let you out of the house in that skirt. It seemed to me that her hands hung down below her hemline. Talk about a magical time.

A few years ago, our good friend Wes invited us to celebrate his 40th birthday with him in Las Vegas. You only turn 40 once and we wanted to share the moment with our friend, so we booked the flight and headed west.

We stayed at Bally’s and down at ground level there was a concourse that connected Bally’s with the Paris Hotel and the concourse was painted to look like that magical hour between daylight and nightfall. As it turns out, that time of day seems to have an energizing effect on a lot of people.

I’m sure that was no accident. They make money in Las Vegas and one reason is that they put a great deal of thought into ambience.

I know it was a circuitous path that led this entry from a small farm in Empire, Alabama to Las Vegas, but as I said — that time of day is magical.

Faux Emergencies

2012-01-22T20:29:00.000-06:00

I got up early this morning, put on soft music, rolled out my yoga mat and started with some deep breathing.
My joints protested, but I eased on. When I do yoga, I don't do any type of routine. I simply do every pose I can remember and I hold them for five breaths.
I'm not sure why I don't do yoga every day because I always feel great afterwards, but it seems life is always scheming against me to rob me of my time.
Here's the thing -- we all know that we should eat well and steer clear of fast foods, we should exercise daily, we should avoid people who vex our spirits, and people who are a constant drain on our souls, we should call our mothers, visit our friends, and move constantly toward our dreams.
So what is so important that keeps us from doing what we know is good for us? I know there are life emergencies that happen from time to time, but not everything is a life emergency.
Here's what I believe -- I think it's just too darn easy not do do the right things. There! I've said it.
Jim Rohn who is a motivational speaker and writer did an audio program that I listened to twenty years ago called The Art of Exceptional Living.
He said some profound things in that presentation that have stuck with me all these years. One of the quotes is: A few errors in judgement, repeated daily can spell disaster.
He also said: If you work hard on your job you can make a living, but if you work hard on yourself, you can make a fortune.
I'm not sure if old Jim did yoga, but I bet if he did, he wouldn't let faux life emergencies keep him from practicing every day.

Winter Rain

2012-01-21T19:57:00.000-06:00

I have several deadlines looming so I put on the coffee and since the temps last night and early this morning were dancing with 70 degrees, I headed to the screen porch for some early morning writing.
I think I'm closer to the creative vortex out there. I can hear birds, see squirrels, and mother nature plays a symphony on the wind chimes.
The atmosphere felt a little unstable. One may ask how you tell when the atmosphere is unstable, but anyone living in Mississippi, Louisiana, or Alabama can name that tune in one note.
The sky turns an erie shade of gray-green, and the upper level winds sound like the surf of an angry sea.
After an hour on the porch, I began to hear thunder in the distance, so I quickly found a stopping place, packed up the laptop and headed inside.
Jilda had just begun to yawn when I poured her a cup of coffe and called up the weather radar on her iPad.
Fortunately, we were at the tail end of the storms so all we got was a drenching winter rain. A while later, the sun was out and it looked like springtime in the south.

Rhythm of the Sea

2012-01-20T23:26:00.002-06:00

Our friends Wes and Deidra who live on the other end of the state were in town tonight so we met them in Birmingham for dinner.
Both of them are going through difficult times with their parents. They know they can talk to us, because we've been there too.
It's been too long since we've seen them, and the piece of time we had with them tonight was much too short. We're getting our calendars together to plan a week at their place in Destin, on the Gulf of Mexico.
We'll build a bonfire in the sand and play music to the rhythm of the sea....and watch the sun rise over the water.

Before It's Too Late

2012-01-19T20:52:00.000-06:00

I didn't get a nap today. I'm sure it's somewhere in the retiree handbook, and if I weren't so snippy just now, I'd look it up, but I know naps are mandatory.
On the upside I did get to interview a 90 year old WWII veteran. He stood straight and tall as he greeted me.
He had piercing grey-blue eyes and his handshake was as firm as that of a young ambitions banker. I didn't have to ask a lot of questions, I just turned the recorder on and asked him to tell me his story.
There was no boasting or bravado in his voice, but he wove a compelling story of a young boy born in Bessemer, Alabama who joined the Air Force shortly after Pearl Harbor.
He was trained as a pilot by the Royal Air Force (British), because America didn't have enough qualified instructors.
He flew missions throughout the war and was shot down over France in the summer of 1944.
Seven of the 10 crewman died but by some strange twist of fate, he survived.
After the war, he looked up the families of six of the crewmen who perished in the crash.
When he told me that part of the story he choked up and tears filled his eyes, and so did mine. "War is bad," he said "but the loss of freedom is much worse."
The two hours I spent with him passed with a blink of an eye. And when I left, he shook my hand and told me how much he appreciated me stopping by to hear his story. I told him it was an honor.
I've said this before, but each time I talk to one of the older folks I'm reminded that with each passing day, stories are lost to the grave.
I think we can all do something remarkable if we can somehow capture some of these stories before it's too late.