Life's Been Good To Me So Far

     I have to be honest, I have a great life.  I am not rich by any stretch of the imagination, and I work hard, but I can't find anything to complain about.
  
     To start off I have a great wife.  She does pampered Chef and catering besides being a lunch lady at the school.  Needless to say she is a great cook, and I have all kinds of toys to play with in the kitchen.  She does not like for me to wash clothes, or help in the kitchen, so most of the time I get to relax while she is doing the work. The best thing about my wife is she thinks I am wonderful.  That's a hard trait to find.   Her only fault is she likes the Florida Gators, but nobody is perfect.  What could be better.

     My oldest daughter is in the high school band, and plays soccer.  I get to go to all of the football games without feeling guilty, and sit and talk with my friends reliving our band glory days.  She is also a great student, which will help immensely when she graduates and wants to go to the University of Alabama.  She is a teenager though, which is taking some getting used to.  I forget she is home some times when she hibernates in her bedroom.

     My youngest daughter  is a mini me, which is fun.  She is emotional, and smart, a cheerleader, and a drama queen.  She keeps me grounded, reminding me daily to take time out of my schedule for her.  If we don't get our time together, if I forget to tell her I love her before I leave or when I come home, or anything else, she lets me know.   I look forward to our time together every evening, when we talk about what has happened during the day.  I know that soon she won't care for this one on one time, so I enjoy every second I can.

     My son is my little man.  He is the energizer bunny, he keeps going and going.  Nothing scares him, and his imagination is something to behold.  We are constantly having to go out and play "catch ball", or kick the football.  I just can't figure out why I can't beat this 6 year old at anything on the Wii any more.

     They say money doesn't buy happiness, and I know that is true.  I wouldn't trade what I have for anything in the world.  Maybe I am rich after all.

I'll Take Dinner On The Grounds

     I read an article the other day about a so called mega church.  This church had a membership of around 30,000, and had just opened a new campus. Each campus had big screen TV's, and the pastor would give the sermon in one location and be broadcast to the others by closed circuit.  The Pastor went on to talk about how people liked to bring their Starbucks, and enjoy the multimedia experience.  I'll take a rain check if you please.  I don't see how the preacher would decide whose house he was going to for Sunday dinner anyway.

Sardis Baptist

     Give me someplace like my Mom's church.  I love my Mom's church, Sardis Baptist, because it has character and history.  Visiting there is like stepping into a time machine.  It has been around since 1835, and really hasn't changed much through the years.  It wasn't until just a few years ago that the church even had air conditioning.  I like the old wooden straight backed pews, with the divider in the middle that used to separate the men from the women.  They aren't the most comfortable seats, but back in 1835 you weren't supposed to be comfortable in church.  I love the plain white wooden walls, the oil lamps that still sit on the walls, and the down home attitude of the people there.  Most Sundays you will find between 40 and 60 people there worshiping.  You won't find any Starbucks there, but if you are lucky you just might get to eat dinner on the grounds. 





Dry Valley

     I kind of like visiting there every once in a while, it reminds me of how things used to be.  There's not a lot of distractions, just good old fashioned worship.  My home church, Dry Valley Baptist is somewhere in the middle, and that suits me fine. I have gotten accustomed to the padded chairs,  and the big screens help me see a little better from my perch in the balcony.  There are enough people there that you feel like you are a part of a big family. 

     Mama's church is nice to visit, but is not for me full time.  I don't think I would fit in at the Mega Church either.  A church with a coffee bar just isn't for me.  I'm too clumsy and would probably spill it anyway.

Padding My Resume

     I have two reunions coming up this year, my high school 25th and my college 20th.  A lot of people that I went to Chattooga High School and Berry College with have become a lot more successful than I have.  People at reunions like to compare lives, but I'm not worried.  I have a plan.





     I have decided to tell the truth, or at least the truth as I see it.  When I was in college I made money by playing music at weddings and restaurants, and filled in with the Rome Symphony occasionally.  When I got out of college I went to work in a denim mill making denim for blue jeans.  I was going to do this until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life.  I ended up staying there for close to 14 years.  I met my wife there, and made a lot of good friends. 



     I felt like I needed a change so I took a job selling cars for a year.  I probably would have done that longer, but the hours were terrible, and I felt like I was missing my kids growing up.  After that I went to work where I work now, at a plant making ranges for a company owned by G.E.  The hours and pay are good, and I get to be off every weekend.  I have led choirs at various churches through the years, and have made two cents from this blog.

     I am proud that I have worked hard, honest jobs in my life, so when asked I am going to be honest. I was a professional musician for a while.  After that I worked in the fashion industry.  Soon the fashion industry bored me so I dabbled in transportation.  I have done choral conducting, and I currently am working in a multinational corporation.  If that doesn't get them, I can always throw in that I am a professional author. 

     Some of this is stretching the truth, I know, but it sounds SO much better.  Hopefully nobody will challenge me too much, that would be embarrassing.  I think everybody will be impressed.

Myron and The Miracle Baseball Finale

  The night was spiraling fast by now, the kids were tired, Lauren was upset, it was not the way I had envisioned things.  We stayed until the end of the 6th inning, then left so we could get home and get in bed.  AT&T Park is built on what is known as Hawk Hill.  To get to the stadium you have to either walk up a bunch of steps, or take an escalator.  As we go out the front gate, a security guard is just in the process of changing the escalator from up to down, so we wait a few minutes so we don't have to walk down the steps.  This is the red covering on the top left of the picture.
     After we got to the street, we still had to walk the length of the stadium down the road to get to the parking area.  On the left of the picture, beside the road, there is a drop off to a hotel parking lot.  The grass you see between the stadium and the road is actually a huge, steep hill.  This is all very important.  By this time, my youngest daughter is beyond consoling.  She didn't get a hole in one, and she didn't get a foul ball.  She is not whining, just upset.  That's when IT happened.

X marks the spot

     I was in prayer as we walked down the street, praying that God would comfort my little girl. I was still feeling like even though we had done all of these things for the kids, I had let her down by dropping the ball.  I know that God's perfect will is greater than anything I can comprehend, but in the back of my mind I was wondering just why things had happened like they did.  We had gotten to about the point on the picture where the red X is when  something so unreal happened it still feels like a dream.
     Something inside of my told me to look up the hill at the stadium.  The lights on top of the stadium were bright, and an evening mist had settled in giving the stadium a dream like look.  Suddenly, to my disbelief, a baseball comes over the top of the stadium out of the mist.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  I know it was probably just my imagination, but it looked like the ball had been dropped out of the mist by some divine mysterious hand.  In that moment, time stood still.
    I watched as the ball started bouncing down the hill towards the road.  A million thoughts went through my head in that brief moment.  Would the ball keep bouncing and go into the parking lot, would this be the final disappointment for Lauren, my mind was in overdrive.  Suddenly a feeling of Divine peace came over me.  I watched as the ball bounced down the hill and hit the road, sure that the ball would hit the road and bounce into the parking lot below.  To my amazement, the ball did hit the road, but instead of bouncing it ROLLED!!!!  I am not a physics major, but that just does not happen.

The hill

 
     The ball came to a dead stop when it hit the curb, just a few steps from where we stood.  I took maybe two steps, reached down and picked up the ball, an authentic Southern League baseball.  I looked at my wife, and tears filled both of our eyes.  The kids couldn't speak, and my little girl had a look of indescribable joy on her face.  I walked over to her and handed her the baseball.  She looked at me, with tears in her eyes now, and said " thank you for the baseball Daddy."  I told her she shouldn't thank me, I didn't do it.

     The trip home was filled with joy, the kids marveling over the baseball, and Tina and I praising God for what we know was an answered prayer.  I know this was not a random occurrence, but something that was orchestrated by my Father above.  The baseball sits on a mantle in our home now, and every time I look at it I am reminded that God cares about every aspect of our lives.  I pick the ball up occasionally and am still filled with a feeling of love and peace that is beyond description.  We call it our Miracle Baseball.

Myron and the Miracle Baseball Pt3





Myron Noodleman



     The two youngest were thrilled when we got to the stadium.  Even our teenager was somewhat happy, though I knew she wouldn't admit it.  When we got to the stadium and got our tickets we all got a pleasant surprise, Myron Noodleman was there.  I had never heard of him until the week before, but we had treated the kids to a Rome Braves game and he had performed there.  Myron is the "Clown Prince of Baseball."  He is hilarious, and the kids absolutely LOVED watching him. We didn't know he was going to be at this game, but were pleasantly surprised.  We also found out that kids got spirit cards that night, which is a big part of the story.

     We got to our seats in the first row of general admission right behind home plate, bought the required peanuts, popcorn, and colas, and settled in for a night of Myron and baseball.  The young kids had gotten to meet the mascots Looie and Blooie, got their autographs, and were having a great time.   That's when things started falling apart.

Looie and Blooie

      If you have ever been to a minor league baseball game you know that the real excitement is between innings.  Myron was doing his thing, and of course there were the giveaways.  The announcer was going through the crowd, and stopped just a few rows in front of us.  He said that the first child that comes to him with a Spirit card and gives him a high five wins a $25 gift certificate to Academy Sports.  Matthew just happened to be standing right in front of me, so I hand him his spirit sign and tell him to run down there.  Normally he would ask "why," but this time he just did it, and won the gift certificate.  When he gets back to us we are all celebrating, except our youngest daughter.  She was upset because she wanted to win it for us.  I explained to her that he just happened to be there, and that seemed to calm her a little.
       A few innings later I look up and see Myron Noodleman coming down our row, giving high fives, shaking hands, and clowning with the crowd.  The kids light up, as they get to meet Myron.  He comes down to us, talks to the kids, and starts to move on.  We are sitting on the end of the row, so when a few people come running down to get there picture taken with him, we are suddenly in the middle of a huge crowd.
       In all of my 43 years, I had never had a foul ball hit to me.  I look up, and sure enough, here comes a ball right at me.  I am the only one who sees the ball, as everyone else is watching Myron.  I try my best to reach over Myron Noodleman to catch the ball, but when it hits my hand it bounces out and down the steps towards the field.  I look over at the kids, and my daughter is ecstatic.  I know what she is thinking, and sure enough she asks for the ball.  I tell her I didn't catch it, but she says she saw me catch it. I have to explain to her that I dropped the ball, and now she is devastated.  I have to admit, I was pretty devastated also, because I felt, as Dad, I had really dropped the ball, by dropping the ball.  Little did I know, the night that was spiraling downhill so fast was about to take a dramatic turn.

Myron and the Miracle Baseball Pt2.

     We got up early the next day and headed off to Chattanooga.  We did not tell the kids what we had planned, which added to the fun for my wife and I.  When we got to the Tennessee Valley Railroad Museum we knew from the looks on our two youngest kids faces that we had struck gold.  Even our teenager was, reluctantly, having a good time.  We took pictures of the kids on the trains, got souvenirs, took in the experience.  We boarded a train car, and found that there was a Simulator on it.  Our son jumped right in, and was having a blast "driving" his train.  I turned to look at our youngest daughter, and she had the look.  I could tell she was getting upset, so I picked her up and put her on my lap beside him  I let her blow the horn, and ring the bell, but she wanted to drive.  By the time he had finished his turn there was a long line, so I told her she would have to do it the next time we came.  She was upset, but took it in stride.

     We got our tickets for the steam engine, which was the main event for our son.   This was a dream come true for him his first real train ride.  I could see the excitement building on our daughter's face the whole time though, because she knew that once we got through at the museum, it was time for her surprise.  We left the museum, and went to eat.

     By this time she is beside herself wanting to know what we were going to do.  I was eating it up.  I had worn my Lookouts hat all day, and kept telling her I was giving her hints.  I told her to "be on the lookout" and to "keep her eyes open."  She finally guessed that we were going to a Lookouts game, but I wouldn't tell her yes or no.

     I knew this was going to be just the thing she needed.  I didn't know that I was about to get what I needed also.

Myron and the Miracle Baseball Pt.1

     This is a true story.  I couldn't have made this up if  I had tried.  The best part of the whole thing is.......it happened to my family.
     My wife is a road warrior.  She loves to go, any time, anywhere.  A few months ago we decided to take the family to Chattanooga, get a hotel room so the kids could swim, and take in a Lookouts game the next night.  I was excited, since I love baseball, especially minor league baseball..  Unfortunately, as a lot of husbands do, I forgot to make reservations anywhere.  That Friday night, I searched high and low for a place to stay to no avail.  Luckily I had an idea, we would do three activities that weekend, one for each child.  We decided to go play putt Putt for the oldest child, take a train ride for the youngest, and go to the baseball game for our middle child.
     Friday night was Putt Putt.  We decided to splurge, and do 36 holes.  All was going along great, we were having great family time.  Everyone had gotten a hole in one and was flying high, except our youngest daughter.  I wasn't too worried about it, since we were doing 36 holes I figured she would hit one sooner or later.  The longer we played though, the more upset she got, and the more upset she got the worse she golfed.  She is very much like me, she is very emotional.  The further along we got, the more I prayed.
    My prayer was something like this.  "Now Father, I know you don't worry too much about things like Putt Putt, and I know there are a whole lot of things more important than this, but if you would, could you please let Lauren get a hole in one?"  I truly wanted her to get one, because I knew how much it meant to her.  We got to the last hole and sure enough, no hole in one.  She was beside herself, exhausted, and upset.  Even an ice cream cone for the trip home couldn't console her.  I was upset for her also, but wasn't too concerned, because I knew that the excitement of the next day, with the train ride and the ball game, would make her forget all about not getting the hole in one. 
     Little did I know,  we were about to have an experience that we would never forget.

God Bless the Lunch Ladies

     I have discovered the true reason behind my struggle with weight all these years.  I trace the roots of my problems back to all of the lunch ladies I have known through the years.  When I was in school, we had great lunch ladies.  Maybe it is the years that have passed, but I remember school food as being pretty good in my day.  I always made it a point to be friendly with the lunch ladies, and they always responded with a little bigger helping of the good stuff.  Back then I didn't give it much thought, but these women fed us day in and day out, and nobody ever gave them much thanks.  When I was doing my student teaching in college, I was lucky to teach a band class in the lunchroom right before lunch.  It was hard to concentrate with the wonderful aromas, but I knew if I made it through the hour, the lunch ladies would reward me by asking me to sample that days desert. 
     Wouldn't it be great if some day a Star Student named a lunch lady as his Star Teacher?  I can hear it now...... " I chose lunch lady because I worked better on a full stomach.  I am proud to honor lunch lady, because without her my stomach would have been growling and I wouldn't have been able to pass my tests.  Lunch lady also helped me have perfect attendance for 12 years because I was afraid she would cook my favorite meal and I would miss it if I was absent.  My goal in life is to become a teacher, so that lunch lady can continue to take care of me for years to come."
     My wife is a lunch lady, and I am proud of that.  It gives me comfort knowing that my spouse is spending her days feeding the future leaders of America.  Not only that, but she is a great cook.  I hope that in Heaven there is a special dinner just for lunch ladies, where everyone they served can come together and feed them.  That seems only right.

Amazing Grace

     Amazing Grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me, I once was lost but now I'm found, was blind but now I see.  These are some of the sweetest words I have ever heard, but today Amazing Grace just doesn't seem to be good enough for some folks. 
     A few weeks ago on the 4th of July my church had a cookout.  There was a stage set up for people of the church to sing during the festivities.  There were a few people sitting in the seats listening, others were playing games, talking, having a good time.  Suddenly a red back hymnal appeared, and the place lit up.  It started with a few people standing on stage just singing whatever hymn came to mind.  Soon there was a crowd, both on the stage singing and in the seats listening.  It was amazing.  Nobody was worrying about anything, everybody was just enjoying fellowship and having fun singing the old hymns.  Smiles were on everyone's faces, joy and laughter filled the room. It was magical.
     Growing up, Amazing Grace, Victory in Jesus, How Great Thou Art were sung over and over again, and for good reason. They are powerful songs that have stood the test of time.  Give me Glory Road any day and watch me shout. Give me It Is Well With My Soul and watch me glimpse  into Heaven.   I hear a lot of good songs in church, praise and worship, contemporary, whatever you want to call it, and some of these songs touch my soul, but I still like the feel of a hymnal in my hand, and knowing I am singing the songs my grandparents probably sang.  Maybe it's the old school in me, but a good hymn in four part harmony cures what ails me most days. I'll always rather hear a old fashioned quartet sing four part harmony any day rather than a trio or duet.  That's just how I am, and I feel no need to apologize for it.  I hope as my kids grow older they come to love the old hymns too, and stay in churches where these songs are kept alive. Sad to say, I'm afraid that the days of Amazing Grace, the gospel quartet, the 5th Saturday night singing, and the hymnal are too soon to be a thing of the past.

My Addiction

Okay, time to come clean.  I have an addiction.  I have been trying to hide it, but it is becoming too much, and is about to overtake me.  It started innocently enough, just a little here and there, but now I am doing it at work, in Sunday School, during church..........  I am having cravings right now as I type.  At first, I would get my supply on Saturday afternoon, and it would last me a week, now I am stopping on my way to work and buying more.  Two or three in the car before going in, one when I start work.  Every break sees me going to my lunch box and sneaking some into my pocket to get me through to the next.  I am constantly having to empty my pockets so nobody finds the wrappers.  When I can't get to any, I get nervous.  The thought has crossed my mind to melt some down and just drink it, that would be so incredible.  I can visualize one right now, calling my name.  The family isn't home, time to go get my fix.   They say the first step is to admit you have a problem, so here goes,my name is Barry, and I'm addicted to Butterscotch candies.

Papa's favorite story

     If you missed Papa's second favorite story go back and read it first.  This is Papa's favorite story, and he reminds me of it every time I see him.
     I have always had a way of dealing with my son when he gets rowdy, I put him on my shoulders.  This calms him down, and allows me to do whatever I am doing at the time without having to chase him all over the place.  A few years ago, we went out to eat at the local Subway, and the kids were with us.  My son was in fine form that afternoon, and we were trying to get the kids to tell us what they wanted to eat.  My son however was more interested in finding a place to sit, making new friends, and generally scouting the place out.  I finally got him to come to me, and picked him up like I had a hundred times before to put him on my shoulders.  This time however, he didn't calm down, and was fighting hard.  If you have ever tried to put a wiggly four year old boy on your shoulders, you know it isn't an easy task.  Finally I get him on my shoulders, but instead of relaxing he starts fighting me worse than ever.  All of a sudden I hear my wife saying "honey, honey, HONEY" while pointing up at him.  I took him down off my shoulders and asked him why he was fighting me.  He looks at me, rubs the knot on the top of his head, and with all the seriousness a four year old can muster asks me, "Daddy, why did you put me in the ceiling fan?"

Call me Commodore

I hate to admit it, but I am a Commodore 64 man in a Pentium world.  Somewhere in the late 80's, technology passed me by and I have never caught up.  I took a few computer programming classes in high school, but gave it up because I never figured the computer thing would amount to anything.  The first glimpse I got of the power of a computer was in college, when my roommate Tim brought his computer to our room.  The computer was mostly for his piano keyboard, so I didn't think much about it.  Soon, Tim introduced me to the real genius of the machine, a game called Nyet, which was basically the game now known as Tetris.  Our small dorm room was filled with people wanting to play the game.  In retrospect, I should have gone straight to the registrar and changed to Computer Science, but at the time I was still convinced I was going to be the worlds greatest band director.  That was as close as I ever got to speeding along the information superhighway.  Now I am totally lost when it comes to any kind of technology, sitting on the side of the road with a flat tire.  I thought I had seen it all when the 8-track was replaced by cassettes.  My kids hold more music today on their MP3 players than I could have put on a house full of cassettes.  I was excited  when I got my Commodore 64, until Luke next door got his Nintendo 2600.  Now kids have A Wii, Xbox, Playstation, and carry a DS in their pocket.  My cell phone, well, I can call you with it, and can take a picture with it, but that's about it.  The only thing I Kindle is wood, I eat Blackberries, and I thought people surfed in the ocean.  I have no clue the difference between an I-Pod and an I-Pad, and couldn't Tivo if my life depended on it.  I guess I'll go ask my kids, they can explain it all to me.

Bringing back Granny

I think I know a big part of what is wrong with this world today.  We need more Grannies.  I know what you are thinking , there are grandparents everywhere.  That's not what I am saying.  Not many people have Grannies.  My kids have wonderful Grandmothers, that are truly amazing women, but they aren't Granny.  My kids have a Nana and a MawMaw, and it just ain't the same.  Somewhere along the way, Granny turned into an ugly word, and most grandmothers today would have a hissy fit if there grandchildren called them by that name  Granny has gone from being a loving term of endearment to another word for old, and that's not right.  I had two grandmothers, Granny Woods and Granny Fletcher, and I can't imagine them as being anything else. I have great memories of my Grannies.  Granny Fletcher passed away  when I was extremely young, but I still remember playing on Granny's porch, and going to Granny's to eat grits. I truly believe that Granny Fletcher's grits were manna from Heaven.  I also knew to tow the line, or else I would be going out to get the hickory she was going to use to set me straight.  Granny Woods was the rock of our family, she had a magical way of making her small home and yard grow to fit all of us, and there was a slew of us.  Going to Granny Woods house was better than anything, because there would be cousins, aunts, uncles, food, and love.  Heck, even people outside our family called her Granny Woods.  When you went to Granny Woods house, you were going to eat whether you were hungry or not.  If there wasn't food made, which was rare, she was going to fix something.  That's just the way Grannies work.  You can't help but be impressed by that.  I think the world would be a lot better off if more people had Grannies instead of Meemaws, Mimis and the like.  Hopefully when the women of my generation become grandparents, they will embrace being Granny again.  It could be the start of something beautiful.

Going Going Gone

    My Rosie is going to be marching in the high school band this year.  My, how time flies.  30 years ago I was getting ready to start my first year in marching band.  It doesn't seem that long ago.  Time has a way of marching on.

Summerville High School  www.chattoogaphotohistory.com

     In 1981 I was about to start my 8th grade year at Summerville Junior High School.  Back then we went to junior high school instead of middle school.  I don't know who came up with middle school, probably some big shot in Atlanta.  At one time the junior high school was the high school.  I took pride in knowing I was walking the same halls my Mom did when she was in high school.  Now there is an empty lot where the main building was, a church, apartments, and a hamburger stand where the rest of the school stood.
     I still remember the way the halls would creak.  There was something about those old wooden floors.  I couldn't even begin to count how many times Alma Lewis, Rodney White, Melvin Mosely, and David White lifted me off the ground with their paddles.  I don't care what anybody says, Alma Lewis paddled harder than anybody, and she got plenty of practice with me.  My wife tells me I don't have a backside.  I know where it is, it's on those paddles..

Chattooga High School

     My 25 year high school reunion is coming up, and this will probably be the last reunion we have before they tear our high school down.  Most of the schools I went to have been closed, and the few that haven't are scheduled to be soon.  It's bittersweet.  It makes me realize that I am not getting any younger. North Summerville Elementary School, and Summerville Junior High School are already gone, Summerville Elementary and Chattooga High School are on their last legs. 
     I think I might just shed a tear.

She did it to me again

The other  night my eight year old daughter made me cry.  She has a way of doing it, without meaning to of course.  I cry, then she cries, a big old tear fest.  My daughter has one trait that she inherited that gets me every time. She tells a story just like my Dad.  Not just the way she talks, but the way she looks.  She and her Pawpaw Jerry were close, they adored each other.  I think my Dad fell in love with her the moment she looked at him with her big brown eyes.  Every chance he had, he wanted her at his house.  He died when she was 3, so I figured she wouldn't remember him much, but I was wrong.  She will still break down crying out of the blue because she misses her Pawpaw Jerry.  Anyway, back to the story, that night we were spending our daily time together and she started telling me about the dream she had the night before.  That's  when she did it.  She stopped looking at me and started staring into the distance, got a huge silly grin on her face, and let loose with a whopper of a tale like my Dad used to do.  The thing is, my Dad would get the same silly grin, and the same goofy smile when he told stories.  If you knew my Dad, you know the look.  The longer she talked, and stared, and grinned, the more I realized that there would always be a part of my Dad that is around me, and for that I am grateful.  Sometimes a good cry is not a bad thing.

My Daughter is going to band camp

I can't believe my oldest daughter is about to start her first band camp.  It seems like yesterday we were starting her in Pre-k, now she will be marching with the high school band.  I hope she enjoys every minute of it.  I try to tell her she is going to make memories for a lifetime, but she doesn't want  to hear all that.   She just wants to be with her friends.  She will be a third generation band person.  My mom played trumpet in high school, and I was a tuba player, she plays clarinet. Being in band and playing soccer are her things.  She wasn't very athletic as a young child, but took to soccer like a bee to honey.  She had really good coaches, and turned out to be a very good player. She loves playing defense, and she is good.  Her coach for the last several years was brokenhearted at the end of last season when he figured out she would not get to play recreation league this year because of marching band.  Rec league soccer is during high school football, and as good as she is with juggling things she can't be in two places at one time.  Luckily she can play school soccer during the winter.  She also has turned out to be a very good student.  I am always telling her to do her best in band, soccer, and school work so she will be able to go wherever she wants for college instead of going where we can afford.  I hope she listens.  Scholarships are a necessity these days.  She wants to go to The University of Alabama, we are on a technical school budget.  I am confident that whatever she sets her mind to, she will accomplish. That's just the way my daughter has always been. Yesterday she was my baby, and now she is a teenager. Tomorrow is hers for the taking.

The Bucket list

While we were in Florida I got to do something that I had wanted to do for a long time.  I am a big fan of the Travel Channel and Food Network, and always get a little jealous of the hosts as they get to travel around and eat authentic ethnic foods.  While on vacation, we went to a section of Tampa called Ybor City, and ate at Carmine's Restaurant.  Needless to say I was excited to be in a Cuban part of town, at an authentic Cuban restaurant, which served a real Cuban sandwich.  I couldn't pass up the opportunity, so I ordered the Cuban.  The sandwich was spectacular, which for me is no small thing since I love good food, but that isn't what this is about.  Eating that sandwich got me to thinking about what I would like to do in my life, that I have never gotten to do.  Travel and food are big on my list, since I like both.  I would love to travel to Philadelphia for some cheesesteak, Chicago for deep dish pizza, and New York for cheesecake and Brooklyn style pizza.  I want to see Niagara Falls, and the Grand Canyon.  I want to go to a baseball game in either Wrigley Field of Fenway Park, and want to see the Yankees play at least once.  I'm sure there are some other things I could think of, but these are the top of my list.  There is one thing I have scheduled already though, I promised my wife that if I live to see 50years old  I will get on an airplane, since I have never flown.  Maybe she will forget by then since that's not really something that I am looking forward to.  Whether or not I ever get to experience these things or not I don't know, but it gives me something to dream about, and dreams are always good. 

Papa's second favorite story

I go to church with a man called Papa.  His real name is Jackie, but I have hardly ever heard him called that.  Papa loves to see me coming, because things happen to me that couldn't possibly happen to others, and I think Papa feels better knowing that there is somebody in this world that has such strange things happen to them like me.  I know when I have had an adventure Papa really enjoys, because he will not let me forget about it.  That makes things like happened to me last week a little easier to take, because it made Papa laugh.  This is Papa's second favorite story, next Sunday I will share Papa's favorite.  Unfortunately, the following story is true, and it happened to me.  Last week while on vacation in Florida I got the chance to be a hero.  It was a great thing I did, almost superhuman if I do say so myself.  Not to toot my own horn, but I still can't figure out why it wasn't written up in all the papers, and top story on CNN.  It goes like this....Wednesday was beach day on vacation.  We had been at the beach most of the day, and were letting the kids take one last dip in the clear waters of the Gulf of Mexico before we left.  I had already showered and drip dried, but went down to the shoreline to be close to the kids while they played.  I am standing there looking out over the water when something catches my eye, about 40-50 yards out, floating in the water.  "Somebody swimming" I say to myself.  The longer I watch, I realize it isn't somebody swimming, so I think "somebody snorkeling."  The longer I look though, I realize that it is NOT coming up.  About that time another man comes up and asks me if I see it.  I say yes, but neither of us know what it is.  Without a word we both jump in the water and start swimming out into the surf.  Valiantly we struggle against the tide, bravely fighting the dangerous waves where just seconds before a 6 year old and a 9 year old were boogie boarding.  As we get close to what we are sure is our moment of glory we see others swimming further out, and start calling to them for assistance.  They must not have heard us, because they just looked at us funny.  We swim further and finally get the others attention.  "Hey" we scream, "there's somebody in the water."  "No", they call back with a laugh, "it's just a coconut."

Pasgeetos and the old days.

The word of the day is Pasgeeto.  That's what my son told my wife caused us to have to come in off the porch last night, the pasgeetos were biting us.  I remember when I was younger people telling me time speeds up when you get older.  It's true. One day I am at Pay and Tote throwing quarters into Pac Man, the next I'm a 40 something man with three kids.  I practically grew up inside Hurley's grocery store where my dad worked for years.  I still dream about that place, I liked it so much better as a grocery store than a funeral home.  I still have the glue taste in my mouth from all the green stamps I licked to put in books.  We had our green stamps saved in cigar boxes, and it was a magical time when we actually got to get something with them.  I also used to make money from Coke.  If I walked the bottles back to the store I got to keep the deposit.  On Saturday mornings when Coke was running contests, I would get up early to be there when the Coke man emptied the bottle caps.  I would then bring my sack full of caps home, wash them, then spend all day peeling off the inside to see what I had won.  I actually made some good money off of that a couple of times.  Saturday morning was cartoon day, and that wasn't all day.  We were expected to go out and play after cartoons went off, and we didn't mind because there wasn't much to do inside anyway.  I don't know if kids today even know how to relax, with video games, cell phones, and nine million channels on TV.  I will always think back to those simpler days, but reality is time marches on.  Here's to making every moment count, and to count each moment as a blessing.

Not the way I wanted to start

I have been throwing around the idea of a blog for some time now, and thought it would be fun.  I wanted to do a lot of fun, some inspiration, and hopefully give people something to think about every once in a while.  Something happened yesterday that has caused my first try at this to be a whole lot more serious than I ever intended.  I awoke this morning to the news that a man had fell to his death at Arlington Stadium during a Texas Rangers game.  This caught my eye, and I started reading the article.   Shannon Stone was doing something that a lot of Dads have done through the years, he took his 6 year old son, Cooper, to the ball game.  They had, like almost every father and son, hoped to get a foul ball during the game.  I can only imagine how excited this little boy was.  During the game Ranger's outfielder Josh Hamilton threw a ball towards the stands, and Shannon Stone tried to grab it.  When he reached for the ball, he fell over the railing and landed 20 feet below.  The first words out of his mouth were about the safety of his son.  Unfortunately about an hour later Shannon Stone died from his injuries.  Cooper Stone is the same age as my son, and Shannon Stone was only 4 years younger than me.  This hit home.  This very well could have been me and my son.  I think of all the times I have taken my children to games, and how we always hope to come home with a ball.  I pray with all my heart tonight for this family, and especially for this little boy.  I think I am going to go hug my kids a little tighter and a little longer tonight.