Martyholman.com

Memorable Scenes at the Huey Wedding

Marty Holman — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 18:34:54 +0000

I’m not a great photographer or anything, but I took some pictures of my weekend, and here are my favorite ones (that I’m at liberty to share). Enjoy!

On Thursday, I ordered a Jalapeno Popper Burger, Sweet potato tempura, and a krispy kreme milkshake at Flip Burgers

Thursday night at Red Sky Tapas with friends and family

Is any trip to the south worth it without making your way to Cracker Barrel?

Laser Tag with the groomsmen and ushers

I just keep telling myself, "Authentic community. Authentic community"

I love these ladies! My Georgia family for 12 years now.

What a throw by Eli!

Either its the mafia or Mercy me's 4th album.

The reason we were all in Atlanta.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Let me introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. David and Cherie Huey!

The Longest Road Trip ever, part 4

Marty Holman — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 09:54:26 +0000

Driving the width of Texas is very similar to several things, not the least of which being waiting at the RMV (registry of Motor Vehicles) for someone to call your name, expecting that it will happen at any minute, but it never does, and hours later you find yourself trying to be entertained by some random circumstance like trying to guess the language of the people around you or attempting to count the number of those whose name have been called before yours. Thankfully the RMV now has the internet, but Scotty has not actually invented a usable transporter quite yet. So you just wait but it never happens.

It was my turn to drive and the long night nestled over Texas for what seemed like forever. Around 4 pm it started raining and then raining and then raining. Soon the rain hit the car so hard that I thought someone had jumped on the car. Other cars began to move to the side of the road, but not me. I wouldn’t be stopping. Texas was already a long enough state to drive through, plus my expert driving skills would help me out. For over an hour the rain crashed down on us, and I just kept praying for it to stop. Driving 10 mph had started to get on my nerves. I sang and prayed and thought about the fact that I didn’t have a girlfriend yet,and I was already 18 years old (What was wrong with me anyway?) By the time it stopped raining, I remember being a mess mentally, almost shedding a tear because I was so tired of the concentration it took to stay on the road through the storm. Sweat poured down my forehead, a result of the fear I experienced in the last hour. Finally it did stop, and all was quiet, and I thanked God for bringing us out safe.

Then one by one, my fellow passengers woke up, each asking me in their own way if I was doing all right driving. They know how boring the drive through Texas can be. Then I turned on the radio where a news weather report was hitting the airwaves. Apparently Texas had just come through its worst thunderstorm in 50 years (rainfall in an hour). Kim and John and Allison all laughed and one quipped…

“Thank God it didn’t rain here in this part of Texas.”

The Longest Road Trip ever, part 3

Marty Holman — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 13:28:23 +0000

part 1
part 2

When you take a road trip, you begin to develop a sort of bond that you could not have without the road trip sort of experience. The type of bond that we get when confined to others in close quarter situations. We either become attracted to those around us (not necessarily in a Freudian way) or repulsed. I’m thankful for these adventures.

Driving through Houston after the last episode did nothing to make us want to scout, visit, or in any way pay attention to the huge Texan city of Houston. We did however, desire to get out, so we drove through I-10, until we decided to get gas and scarf down some snacks at a gas station off the highway. As we ejected from our cars and stumbled inside after a long 7 hours of driving, I noticed a patrol car slowly circling the building vulture style and paying particular attention to the single brown car in the gas station. Ya know, the one from which the four college students were stumbling out. I mentioned it to Kim, Jon, and Allison, who figured it was just a bored officer with nothing to do on a Friday night. I kindly reminded them that this was Houston and their basketball team was playing game 3 of their conference semi-finals with Phoenix, so really, there was plenty to do. They ignored me. Non-sports fans do that sometimes.

We bought our Pringles and Surge, preparing for the long night ahead, and went on our way. One thing I’ve neglected to mention throughout my story proved to be the eventual reason for the officer’s circling. The owner of the vehicle was an amazing fellow from California who had no use of his legs whatsoever, and despite this apparent setback, never let it change his life in any way. He did everything I did at this time in our lives, including play basketball and flirt with girls. But he also drove, and this was his car, and plastered on both license plates was the universal sign of disabled persons.

Finally heading outside of the Houston city limits proved to be the end of the “making good time” portion of our evening as the patrol car finally decided to pull us over. Probably because we were going to Arizona and the Suns were playing the Rockets in the playoffs and all that, but he said something about crossing lanes too fast and that he thought we stole the car. To me he looked the traffic cop in part 2, but Allison assured me he was not. I told her while he was checking our credentials out that there was no way she could know that while he continued to smoke a cigar in our presence because the cigar and the smoke partially hid his face like a character from the Twilight Zone. He walked clumsily back to our car and told us to have a good day. If I knew then what I know now, I would have told him to relax, and that everything is going to be all right.

I drove through the night listening to soft rock stations and buzzing from certain drinks I had ingested earlier, when eventually a newscaster came on and informed me that a huge thunderstorm was arriving into the area early this morning. I didn’t believe him as the sky was absolutely beautiful and I was singing quietly to myself. I have this theory that bad things don’t happen to me when I sing quietly to myself. Although at this time my musical experience was limited to Al Denson and the beautiful music of the PCC ensembles.

And then it started raining.

The Longest Road Trip ever, part 2

Marty Holman — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 14:11:12 +0000

Sophmore year of college with the boys

When you tell someone you’ll drive their car across the country, you generally assume that the car will be in good enough condition to make the trip. You know, when the owner says, “I’ve taken care of the car and it will be fine”, a good assumption is that the owner has indeed taken care of the car and it will be fine.

We left Pensacola around 2 pm, in the heat of the afternoon and found that the car didn’t have AC. Not a big deal, but the 90 degree heat threatened to melt our faces off. Our drive started slow, as we talked about dating outings and birthdays and whether or not we would be returning to Pensacola Correctional Center for the next year. We moved from Florida to Alabama to Mississippi before we ventured into our first mishap. The car decided to overheat and we found ourselves parked in a rest area for the better part of an hour. The afternoon was flying by, and crankiness was underway.

Louisiana passed us by and entering Texas brought on more trials than any humans should ever have to bear. I had never been in Houston, Texas before, but on the east side of the city, Kim told us that she needed to stop at a pay phone (remember, cell phones were not as plentiful in those days) at the next gas station. Allison, as the driver, pulled into the first Exxon she could find. The station was actually closed down for whatever reason, and consequently was very dark. We pulled in, Kim walked to the pay phone, and we waited.

After sitting for a few minutes listening to the sounds of Houston and to Kim quip loudly about her new friends driving with her and that she was very safe with such good friends, two cars come screeching into the parking lot about 30 feet in front of us. Kim keeps talking. Two guys walk out of one car. Three guys walk out of another. They start screaming and yelling racial slurs at one another. Marty (that’s me) yells at Kim to make the conversation end quickly. Her parents roll on about how the family pet is doing. Then one of the guys form the car of three heads to the trunk of his car and pulls out what appears from 30 feet to be a firearm. Kim needs to quit talking. Marty yells louder to Kim, pleading for her to hurry.

Eventually Kim stops talking and Allison drives away. About a quarter of a mile down the road, immediately prior to getting on the ramp toward the highway, I see a cop directing traffic, roll down my window and tell him, “Excuse me sir, back at the Exxon there was some guys fighting and one of them had a firearm!” The officer looked at me and calmly said…

“Sorry, I have traffic duty tonight.”

Thankful for David Huey

Marty Holman — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 19:54:39 +0000

This is Dave. I’ve wrote about him before here and here and here.

Dave is getting married on Saturday and I have the honor of standing with Dave on this special day as he finally gives up a life of bachelorhood for a life with Cherie. Dave is a good friend and I’m really thankful for his presence in my life since 1995.

On this special weekend, please congratulate Dave and Cherie with me!

p.s. I took this pic 5 minutes to go in Dave’s new home in Hotlanta

The Longest trip ever, part 1

Marty Holman — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 09:13:20 +0000

Love the 'do Marty!

For whatever reason, sometimes we have the opportunity to be thankful in spite of the most horrific circumstances. The following story is one of those “most horrific circumstances” that I am now currently thankful for (or someone is).

Star date: The end of my freshman year in college. Twas May of 1994, and I had just finished a full year of college at this institution of higher learning and even higher rules of living. Most college students leave their freshman year of college and head home for the summer. Ya know, hang out with the old classmates and brag about who went to the best parties that year. Going to PCC however left little room for conversations like these and more room to try to figure out anything at all about what was going on in popular culture,(”No, I’ve never heard of Ace of Base, are they good?”). Plus my parents lovingly dropped me off at school in September of ‘03 from my lifetime hometown of Fremont, Ohio and immediately (meaning that day) moved to Tucson, AZ – but thankfully they left me the address.

So as is the college ritual toward the end of the school year, I looked for someone to give me a ride from Pensacola, Florida to Tucson, AZ. And if you were going to LA, that would be fine too because route 10 goes all the way across the country, baby!

Allison eventually got in touch with me and asked me to meet her at the Commons one day with a group of people who would be riding across the country together. When I arrived, I found Allison, Kim, and John waiting for me and we talked for a bit, getting to know each other before we made this insanely long road trip as a group. Allison was finishing her sophomore year as a Criminal Justice major, Kim, too, would be a senior the following year, John suffered along with me in having 3 more years of college to go.

So we decided on a time and a place to meet after our schools graduation ceremony (figuring if possible we could break out somewhere in between the 3rd and 18th verses of the schools alma mater song) and exchanged pleasantries as we went, living our lives for the rest of the year.

Finally the day arrived that we would be leaving for the year. We were scheduled to meet at 11:45 am in the center of campus, pack our car up, and drive away. I guess that schedule worked for two of us as John and I were the only ones to arrive. Of course this was long before cell phones were readily available (actually, I’d be interested in knowing if you can have one at PCC) so we simply had to wait. 12. 12:15. 12:30. I’m starting to get impatient. 1 rolls around and there is still no Allison or Kim. Maybe they thought we were freaks, I quipped inside my own head.

Finally at 2:00 pm, our two heroines arrived apologetically after having dropped a friend off at the airport “and it took longer than we thought it would.” Either way, at this point already on this Friday John and I were irritated, so we let it go, packed up the car, and headed west.

Someone I’m thankful for

Marty Holman — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 19:37:51 +0000

My wife Carie!

Thanks be to who?

Marty Holman — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 15:14:08 +0000

I think Thanksgiving gets shafted.

Seriously, we pay more attention to Christmas and Halloween because they make for better marketing, but Thanksgiving is one of my fave holidays. And not just because it’s the one holiday I can watch my dad suffer through another defeat of the Detroit Lions, his favorite team. No, I love being thankful. So all this month I want to share with you what I’m thankful for and I’d love to get a glimpse of what you’re thankful for.

Let’s start with God.

I love His continued presence in my life. Though I’ve fallen away at times and been as selfish as a bear holding a picnic basket, He is always there, watching, guiding, convicting, loving. This week I fly to Atlanta to be in the wedding of one of my closest friends. I have a love/hate relationship with that city. I loved the year I spent there and the people that were in my life, and I hate the way I acted so selfishly. Through all of that, God was there. And through where I am now, He is here too. You might even say I’d have a difficult time getting away from Him. I love that!

How are you thankful for God? Or are you?

Paint a Picture

Marty Holman — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 13:04:37 +0000

The more I do what I do, the more I begin to realize the difference between someone I may like and someone I want to be around.

I may like you if you can talk about sports and music and how your day is going. But I want to be around you if you can tell me the way something should be in real life. I may listen to you if you come to me and complain or you’re having a rough day and need to get it out, but I’ll want to stay there and keep listening if you then go into how things can and will be better eventually.

When someone paints a picture of how things could be and should be in the world, people follow. I follow.

So today if you talk to your friends and share how things are going and maybe you get the urge to complain a bit about all the bad things going on, follow it up with how things will eventually turn around, and maybe even share with them a vivid picture of what that looks like.

If we were only as descriptive about the good things that are happening as we are about the bad things…

The Tale of the Blind Ref, part 2

Marty Holman — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 17:38:48 +0000

At the height of my anger is a terrible time to take action. (Read part 1 here)

I thought about this as I walked out of the gym after being mauled to the floor by an opposing player in a game of basketball. I wondered when things were going to return to normal in regards to my heart rate, desire to punch someone out, and my general attitude. I was really angry. Like the kind of anger that causes your feet to stomp on the ground in an apparent effort to get to China or your hands to flail at the air as the only source of wind energy in the area.

But things would not turn to normal until I started acting normal. People around me wouldn’t trust my judgment until I proved that I could be trusted. At some point, we lose control with anger, and people don’t view us as as rational, no matter what we are thinking about ourselves or no matter how justified we are to be angry.

This demonstrates the importance of my walk to the hallway. The surest way for me to be ignored when trying to get across my point was to act irrational and to do irrational things. So I left the game, and walked out the gym to the hallway. Eventually I became rational again. And that’s why the referee even talked to me in the first place.

In order for things to be normal again, I had to start acting it.