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The Barn in the Distance

21 Sep

This afternoon, we attended my wife’s family reunion. It takes place at this time every year, and it is always held in a small town just across the Cumberland River. There was a good crowd and plenty of great food. People talked about everything that has happened since the last reunion. There was also talk of football, upcoming weddings and town gossip.

My wife and I got into a short spat about The Blind Side. In fact, that subject has become a running quarrel for us. I do not like the movie, and she thinks I should. It has been in my mind to write a post about the reasons of my movie discontent, but I will probably leave it alone.

Anyway, we tend to argue about important things. Of course, there is this movie. Then, there was the time we debated the proper way of folding towels. Also, some of you may remember reading about the argument of long-sleeved shirts.

Hey, I have to pick my battles.

The reunion took place in a nice city park. Our pavilion sat next to a creek and a walking trail. There was also a playground and some softball fields. However, my eye was drawn to a barn in the distance. It sat on a hill and, from our vantage point, was fronted by a field scattered with round bales of hay. There was something about the setting that struck me as scenic.image

I wondered about the barn. I wondered who owned it. I wondered what was in it. Something made me want to climb the fence and walk across the field. It was one of those places that pulled me in and made me feel the need to be part of it.

Eventually, I took the walking path to the fence to take the picture that is in this post. There was not a good angle, and, as I have been told many times, I take terrible pictures. The angle also changed my view of the barn. It did not look as magical as it did from the pavilion. I suppose that several factors made it appeal to me from the spot. The sun. The shadows. The grass of the field.

Those things made the barn in the distance a mirage I could never reach. The closer I got the more different it would be. I have seen paintings that make you want to step into the canvas and look around. The barn in the distance was real, but it had the same effect.

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Thoughts of Volleyball, Bourbon and the Roman Empire

19 Sep

My wife is getting her coffee pot ready, which is something I completely do not understand. My stepdaughter is sitting in a chair and messing around on her phone. Daisy Dog is in the other chair checking out the scene. I am at the kitchen bar typing a blog post and sipping on a glass of Blanton’s. If you do not know what that is, then you have not lived.Blanton

We just got home from the opening night of a volleyball tournament. The team suffered their first loss of the year, but it was during the round robin part of the schedule. Tomorrow, it gets serious. The plan is to make it back to the team that beat us and return the favor.

It is interesting to watch parents who have middle school kids playing a sport. Some are calm. Some are boisterous. Some are cocky. Some just look worn out.

The tournament is being held at the local high school, and, as we left, a football game was going on across the way. The crowd was cheering. The band was playing. The public address announcer was making announcements.

I have always found it interesting to listen to a game from outside the stadium, but I cannot explain why I feel that way. It is like being part of something but being separated from it at the same time. At times, I have felt that way in real life. It also makes me imagine a Roman walking by the Colosseum while the crowd cheers for blood.

I know. My mind can go to some weird places.

Well, it looks like everyone has started to move. My stepdaughter just walked into her room and shut the door. My wife just took off toward the other end of the house. Daisy Dog is still here and so is the glass of Blanton’s.

I think I will sip on it for a while.

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Who Is Pete?

17 Sep

When my wife gets frustrated, she exclaims, “For the love of Pete!”

(Before I go any further, I should say that my wife is not a time traveler from the early 1900s, and she does make comments that are more 21st Century sounding.)

When she says that, I start wondering, “Who is Pete, and why do we care about his love?” For that matter why do we care about Pete’s sake?

It turns out that Pete is an euphemism for God because people do not want to take God’s name in vain. After all, God plays an important role in our eternal existence. Blaspheming against Pete is not that big of a deal because he does not have anything to do with that.

However, using Pete as a euphemism leads to another question. Why Pete? There are plenty of other sayings that have been created to avoid breaking the commandment against blasphemy.

Gosh

Golly

Gosh Darn

Jiminy Cricket – although he seemed like a pretty good guy in PinocchioJiminy Cricket

Egad

Gadzooks

Anyway, you get the point and can see how those words replace words at would be blasphemous. However, Pete just does not fit in the list.

As near as I can tell, Pete is Saint Peter, the apostle that Jesus said would be the rock upon which the church would be built.Peter

This means that Pete actually had a role in our eternal life. If he had not spread the news of the church, then religion would be a lot different. In other words, taking Pete’s name in vain may not be a great idea.

Of course, Pete may not be Saint Peter.

I used to work with a guy named Pete, In fact, he is the only Pete I have ever known. Well, that may not count because Pete was his nickname, and I am certain that he would not want me to reveal his real name on a blog. Surely, he is not the Pete that everyone talks about.

It really all comes down to this. I have no idea who Pete is, but I want him to know that I hear about him all of the time.

 

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The Phrenology Head

20 Aug

Over the weekend, my wife was shopping, and I was wandering around the store. Suddenly, I saw it. Without hesitation, I picked it up and took it to the shopping cart. It was something that I had to have. It was a Phrenology Head.image-50

My wife immediately asked what I was going to do with it and breathed a sigh of relief when I said that I was taking it to work. I thought it would look interesting in my office and be a conversation piece. I was not wrong.

When my stepdaughter saw it, she asked what it was. I said it was a head. When I was unlocking my office door, my colleague asked what I had. I said it was a Phrenology Head. That means that most of the people who have seen it have made a comment about it. That is the definition of a conversation piece. Hopefully, my students will talk about the Phrenology Head when I take it to class.

That is the other reason I bought it. In the first semester of United States history, I talk about Phrenology and other such things from our past. In essence, it was the study of the human head. Practitioners would measure skulls and search for bumps and indentions. Different parts of the skull represented different parts of the brain. On top of that, each part of the brain controlled a different aspect of that person. A bumpy, indented skull meant one thing. A smooth skull meant another.

It was all very scientific.

My students laugh when we talk about Phrenology, and they will probably laugh when they see the Phrenology Head. However, it was serious business. The research was used to justify European superiority over other people. If you have ever seen the dining room scene in Django Unchained, then you know what I mean.

There is a Phrenology Head sitting on my desk, and I am waiting for the first student to walk into my office. Hopefully, they will ask about it. If not, then they are probably being polite to the crazy teacher who has this strange head. Of course, I am talking about the Phrenology Head. Although, I wonder what information a Phrenological study would get from my cranium.

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The Second Coming Took Place on a Tennessee Highway

14 Aug

It was a dark and foggy night, and I was driving down a two-lane highway after a late night out. The headlights in the fog made the night look ominous, and my eyes were tired. In short, it was a good time to see things that might not actually be there.

I drove around a curve to see a police car sitting on the left side of the road. It was facing away from me, and, like my car, its headlights were hitting the fog. I could see something standing in the headlights and the officer standing by his car.

I slowed down, which was a good thing. If I had not been on my breaks, then I might have run off the road.

Jesus was standing in front to the police car. The headlights and the fog made his white gown glow. His arms were outstretched and he was looking into the sky.Jesus

For a second, I thought I had driven into the Second Coming. He was even coming from the east, and, like the Bible says, that is where Jesus will be coming from.

Obviously, it was not Jesus. It was some guy who was walking around looking like Jesus. However, I cannot overstate how freaky it was. Even the officer looked like he was taken aback.

Well, I guess it was not Jesus. Who knows? The End Times could be upon us. If that is the case, then I can say that I was there when Jesus appeared to a police officer in Tennessee. I can also be proud of the fact that I did not wreck.

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The Entrance to Hell Has a Drive-Thru Window

29 Jul

This morning, I took my stepdaughter to Dunkin’ Donuts before volleyball practice. It has become a ritual for us. Anyway, I drove behind the building to find a ton of cars lined up for the drive-thru window and decided to go inside, where we found almost no one.

One of our neighbors was drinking coffee, and a lady was waiting to take orders. Only, there were no orders to be taken. They were all being handled by the people rushing around the drive-thru window.

We ordered our food and got in the car while the same cars waited around the building. As I drove down the road, a question entered my mind. In truth, I have asked the question before.

Why do people sit in a long drive-thru line when it would be quicker to park the car and go inside?Line

It could be laziness. It could be that we have been brainwashed to think that the drive-thru is always going to be faster. It could be that they do not know how to park their cars.

There may need tons of reasons, but I cannot figure it out. I may not be smart enough to tell time, or I may not be able to figure out the fancy math that will tell me sitting in the car is always best. Of course, it could be my disdain for drive-thru windows.

In the early days of this blog, I wrote about the stupidity of having drive-thru windows at Sonic. However, the invention also has problems at other places.

Often, the person who is wearing the drive-thru headset cannot hear the order. That leads to the order coming out wrong. A wrong order means you have to get out of your car and go inside. Guess what. Going inside in the first place would have solved the problem.

People have made fun of my drive-thru aversion. They do not understand my desire to walk in a building a do business. For example, I like walking into the bank. The transaction goes smoother, and I can actually talk to the people handling my money. Guess what. They get to know me, too. If I have some future issue, then they might be more willing to help me out.

I know a lot of people feel the same way. A bunch of my Twitter folks, including Zach, provided great examples of how walking in is a lot better than driving through.

I wish drive-thru windows did not exist. Wait, I did not mean that. I am glad they exist so people will sit in them while I walk in and get my stuff done faster.

 

 

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Secrets of a Secret Society

13 Jul

Newsweek put out a special edition magazine called Secret Societies: Infiltrating the Inner Circle. Of course, I had to buy it. The thing has sat on my desk for weeks, and I finally picked it up. The magazine includes stuff that I have read before, and my mind started to wander toward a question.

Which secret society would I like to join?

The Illuminati would be cool, but I would have to work with reptile people.

The Shriners would be fun because I could ride motorcycles or go karts in Christmas parades. As a kid, I always looked forward to the Shriner band because a guy strutted in front of it while carrying a big sword.

Bohemian Grove sounds interesting, but the way they frolic in the woods in kind of strange.

The Bilderberg Group would be awesome. They only invite the wealthiest and most powerful. Getting to meet with them would mean being in the categories of the wealthiest and most powerful. Who would not want that?

Heck, the list goes on and on. The Loyal Order of the Moose. Modern Woodmen of America. I do not think the P.E.O. Sisterhood would accept me.

As I asked myself the question, all of that went through my mind. Then, it hit me. I do not have to wonder what secret organization I would like to join because I have already been a member of a secret organization.

I cannot remember how many years ago it was, or I cannot tell you how many years ago it was. After all, it was a secret society.

Some guys I knew decided to form a club where they could partake in intellectual discourse and debate. Out of these sessions, they could make decisions to help the community. It was also a way for the henpecked ones to get away from women for a while.

I was asked to join because they thought I would be good at partaking in intellectual discourse and debate.

Anyway, we met in a small church. To be a secret society you need religious symbolism, right? Also, one of the founders was a member of the church and had a key.

At the first meeting, we named it the Cedar City Men’s Forum and set up the rules of the club. I cannot remember the rules, but you cannot have a secret society without them.

After the formalities, we discussed the pressing issues of the day. Local politics. National politics. Star Trek. You know, the important stuff.

We had several meetings and talked about a lot of things. However, we also wanted to give back to the community. Luckily, there was a huge community project going on. The city had built a new park, and local citizens were raising money for a really cool playground. To get funds, they sold posts in the fence around the playground.

The Cedar City Men’s Forum bought a fencepost.image-43

To be a secret society you need secret symbolism to be displayed in public places, right? We needed our name to be out there for people to look at and wonder what it all means.

This afternoon, I went to the playground to find our fencepost, and there it was. Like other secret societies, the secret symbols outlasted the secret organization. After a few meetings, the Cedar City Men’s Forum discontinued.

I cannot remember why it ended, or I cannot tell you why it ended. It could have been because we ran out of stuff to talk about. It could have been because of an attempted coup against the leadership. It could have been because the henpecked guys were told to come back home. It could have been because someone said Star Wars was better than Star Trek.

Like other long-lost secret societies, we may never know.

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Haunted Houses

29 Jun

When the weather is nice, we like to walk through the neighborhood. It is a good way to get outside and to exercise. As we walk, I find myself looking at the houses and wondering about the people who live in them.

Are they happy?

What television shows do they watch?

Did life turn out like they expected?

What are their hobbies?

Are they from here, or did they move in from somewhere else?

After many walks and many questions, I have come to a conclusion.

All houses are haunted.Haunted House

They are not haunted by ghosts but by the memories of the people who have lived in them. They are haunted by the lives those people lived and the events that happened within them.

They are haunted by the love; by the sorrow; by the happiness; by the sadness.

As those people move on, their accomplishments and failures linger in the air. The people who take their place may not feel them, but they are there. In the kitchens where meals were cooked. In the bedrooms where love was made. In the living rooms where arguments were had.

All houses are haunted.

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Quiet Please

22 Jun

The house is quiet. The only sounds are the clicking of the keyboard and the drone of the air conditioning. There is a bird chirping outside the window. At least, it sounds like a single bird. I can see the leaves rustling in the breeze, but it is not a cool one. This breeze is stirring up the heat.

Summer has begun, but I feel that it has been around for a while.

In a few minutes, I will start the errands for the day. They are of the mundane variety. When that is finished, there is a drive to Nashville. The going will be easy. However, the coming back will be difficult during the dreaded rush hour. It is not something that I am anticipating with great joy.

I write all of that to write the following.

The quiet time is enjoyable. It is a time to contemplate. It is a time to blog. It is a time to prepare for what is ahead. The traffic. The turned up radio to distract from the traffic. The hustle and bustle of life.

The world we have created is not a quiet place.

 

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My iPod Has Issues – Back Porch Blogging

13 Jun

I am sitting on the back porch with the laptop in my lap. Is that not where it is supposed to be? The sun is shining, and the birds are chirping. I can hear a lawnmower somewhere in the distance. They say that storms will be overhead later in the day. That is typical for a June afternoon in Tennessee.

Unused firewood is taking up one corner of the deck. It is beside some chairs that are fading in the sun. I can see the strand of a spiderweb attached to one of them as the sunlight glistens off of it. I suppose that I should knock it down, but the spider has spent a lot of time working on it.

It is a relaxing time, and nothing much is going through my mind. There are no clever ideas for a post. There are no psychoses that need to be addressed. It is simply a normal porch-sitting experience.image-38

With nothing to write about, I could end the post, but it does not seem right to stop at 177 words. At least, that is how many words WordPress said I had typed when I typed 177. Instead of stopping, I will turn on the iPod and see what it going on. After that, I will go back to staring at the trees. There is a dead one out there that needs to be dealt with.

“Tetragon” by Woody Shaw

“Save My Soul” by Blues Saraceno

“Fly Away” by John Denver

“Let The Good Times Roll” by Ray Charles

“You Got That Right” by Lynyrd Skynyrd

“The Day Begins” by The Moody Blues

“Loving Her Was Easier” by Kris Kristofferson

“You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin'” by The Righteous Brothers

“Come Fly With Me” by Frank Sinatra

“Tulsa Time” by Don Williams

“Thunderstruck” by AC/DC

“Sweet Georgia Brown” by The California Ramblers

“Lucifer” by The Alan Parson Project

“Slip Away” by Clarence Carter

“Rollin'” by Big and Rich

“She Loves You” by The Beatles

“Amie” by Pure Prairie League

“I Wanna Be Sedated” by The Ramones

“The Beat” by Lou Johnson

“Drops of Jupiter” by Train

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