Category: Uncategorized

You have to understand two things about me.

Number one, I am a huge fan of the Green Bay Packers.  I’m a shareholder of the team.  I live and die with their games each weekend.

Number two, Paul McCartney is my personal hero.  From the time I was 13 years old, watching the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show on our one little black and white TV, I have idolized Paul.  He was the reason I saved up my allowance and bought a guitar and taught myself to play, the reason I joined a little garage band in high school, the reason I questioned my faith in God because he didn’t make me left-handed like Paul so I could play the bass guitar like him, plucking the strings with his index and middle fingers while gently rocking up and down on the balls of his feet, cocking his head from side to side as he sang.  You get the idea.

So the other day when I received an email headlined “Paul McCartney to play at Lambeau Field”, it was the perfect convergence of circumstance.  A chance to see my favorite artist at my favorite place.  When Sharon told me she’d also like to see him in concert, I circled the date on my calendar when tickets went on sale via the internet.  Little did I know the adventure that awaited.

The day finally  arrived.  I breathlessly punched to the website where I encountered a digital countdown clock informing me tickets were going on sale to the public in 15 minutes 46 seconds…45 seconds…44…..43.  My fingers perched on the laptop keyboard waiting for zero hour.  Five seconds…4…3…2…1…………a message pops up saying “Tickets to the Paul McCartney concert at Lambeau Field are now on sale.”  Below it was a button reading “Get In Line”.  I mashed the button with my heart pounding!

In large letters another message comes up saying “Please wait.  There are more than 2,000 people ahead of you.”  How that many people got in front of me in the course of about three seconds I’ll never know.  Below that was a little animated stick man walking across a time bar.   Apparently this was meant to give me an idea of how long the wait would be.  The stick man’s legs were constantly moving, but he wasn’t making much progress across the time line.  I watched him for about 15 minutes, imagining it was Paul McCartney himself walking over to greet me.

Alas, even someone as easily entertained as me grows bored at this.  It was evident I had some time before my turn came up.  Time to do the dishes, put in a load of laundry, watch a few TV shows, go out for lunch, take a correspondence course, cruise the Bahamas, etc.

When the stick man was about two thirds of the way across the time line a message popped up saying “Due to high demand ticket availability is extremely limited.”  I’m not exactly sure what they were trying to tell me, other than I will never get these past few hours of my life back.  Finally, the stick man made it to the end of the time bar.  We had become very close friends by this time.  I was sad to see him disappear.  In his place was the seating chart for the stadium lit up in different colors indicating where there were still seats available.  I was delighted to see quality seats remaining all over the facility.

But I am now convinced that whoever designs the color scheme for these displays is a sadistic monster……because  I would spend the next hour frantically clicking on one pair of seats after another, only to be told that “another customer has beaten you to those tickets.  Please try again”.  At one point, I actually did get through!  The system took me to the payment page, where I was informed the cost of my two tickets totaled $1,785.00!  Either I had somehow ordered the entire front row, or I had gotten seats in Paul’s dressing room.  In any event, I love Paul….but not that much!  And that’s when I made the fatal mistake of my life.

Yes, I did it.  I declined the tickets and clicked on “Return To Seating Chart”.  Sigh……I would never get to the payment page again.  Eventually the system must have felt sorry for me and wanted to put me out of my misery, because I started getting a message saying “We’re sorry, but we can’t process your request at this time”.

It took awhile but I’m over it now.  Farewell Paul.  I will continue to admire you from afar.  For what it’s worth, I forgive you.  Now, do you think you could get me the email address of that stick man?

 

 

Have you noticed there is a distinct culture difference between Facebook and Twitter?  At least that’s the case in my social media universe.

For the most part Facebook is sweetly benign.  The great majority of posts consist of proud Moms and Grandmoms spotlighting their kids, folks showing off their travels, spouses professing their love for each other, prayer requests and praises for the result of them.

Oh, to be sure, there are political rants and family squabbles, but they are usually confined to a handful in the big picture.

Not so on Twitter.  This is a younger, sarcastic crowd that often is looking for a fight.  Perhaps the President and those who oppose him set the tone for this, or maybe it was this smart-alecky even before the election.

I encountered a perfect example of this recently.  I was trying to enjoy  some of my favorite daytime TV shows when I found myself bombarded with those repetitive, clowny lawyer commercials.  Over and over and over again, every break…same ads.  Annoyed, I picked up my phone and tweeted the following:

“When I rule the world, there will be no more Alexander Shunnarah or Alabama Hammer commercials!”

I’m pretty sure I meant the tweet to be whimsical and humorous, a poke at the quantity of the ads more so than the content.  Indeed, it spawned several likes and supportive replies.  But even though I have only 658 followers (Beyonce has 13.7 million), evidently the post wound its way around the twittersphere until it reached the attention of one Mr. Mike Slocumb.  Yes, the self-proclaimed Alabama Hammer himself.

Mr. Slocumb saw neither the whimsy nor the humor, and shot back this tweet, which included a repost of one of his own supporters:

“I bring relevant content to ppl. (sic)   This person signed up for my content, not some lame news broadcast with an old out of touch newsman….”

Apparently Mr. Slocumb is not aware that I have been retired for nearly three years.  Talk about out of touch.

Yet his tweet is fair.  If I’m going to take shots, whimsical or not, I’d better be ready to receive some.  I confess my first inclination was to fire back with something equally personal and insulting,  which no doubt would have resulted in a string of back and forth venom.   But in a rare moment of introspection I backed off.  After all, he’s just a guy trying to promote his business with a saturation ad campaign.  If I am annoyed by his commercials, I should just choose not to watch them.  (Ironically, this is the same advice I used to give viewers when they would complain about the news.)

But make no mistake…his was a shot across the bow, a clear signal that the Twitter fight was on if I wanted it.  Sadly, for many this is what Twitter has become…a dispenser for miniature rants and hostile debates.

I’ve read of something called Facebook depression, where people actually become clinically depressed because their lives don’t measure up to what they read on the social platform.  If that’s true, there should also be something called Twitter Anger.  It appears I caught a mild dose of it.  I write this to caution you fellow tweeters not to fall prey to it..

I don’t want you to get Hammered.

 

As the saying goes, you get but one chance to make a good first impression.  I have always found that one way to impress people with your knowledge and eloquence is to use a few big words in your conversation.   But be careful…when you do this you must be sure to use them correctly.  Otherwise you may be exposed as a fraud….which, I guess, you actually would be….hmmmmm….

Anyway, in my continuing efforts to help you enhance your life, I present ten of my favorite impressive words, followed by a brief definition, and use in a sentence.  They never fail to leave my audience wide-eyed and scratching their heads in amazement:

UBIQUITOUS:  Being a part of choosing a team, as in “He picks for the other side, but ubiquitous.”

LOQUACIOUS:  The act of being aware of your surroundings.  “My sister was hit by a bus because she didn’t loquacious going.”

INCONGRUOUS:  A branch of the federal government.  “Our senators and representatives serve incongruous in Washington DC.”

IRASCIBLE:  Easily removed.  “Don’t worry about spilling that paint.  It’s irascible.”

TYMPANIC:  The tendency of certain individuals to become unsettled.  “I told Tim to be calm, but Tympanic.”

UMBELLATE:  A prediction that one will be behind schedule.  “I’m trying to get there on time but with all this traffic, umbellate.”

VILIFY:  Putting forth one’s best effort.  “I’m not sure I can pay you back but I vilify can.”

SOPHISTIC:  A  kind of battered seafood.  “I don’t have any fresh fish, sophistic will have to do.”

GRANULITE:  A complimentary term to your grandmother.  ” You used to be overweight, but after your diet granulite.”

BEMUSE:  Getting comfortable with a new situation.  “I used to be afraid of flying, but now I bemuse to it.”

I could go on forever, but this should get you started on the road to a broader vocabulary.  You may not like them now, but jewel later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So apparently the other day my wife Sharon and her co-workers get into some random discussion about height.  One friend insists that the old adage that people shrink as they get older is true.  Others are skeptical.    Inevitably  this leads to everybody getting measured.  Sharon, who has been five foot six her entire adult life, is shocked to learn that she now measures  five foot three!

Incredulous, she arrives home and immediately sidles up directly in front of me, eye to eye, making a serious invasion of my personal space.  “What’s up?” I ask….nervously.  “I’ve always been about one inch shorter than you, right?” she replies.

Yes, that is true.  At five foot seven, I’ve always  been just a tad taller.  Sweet lady has chosen never to wear heels when we are together so that she doesn’t tower over me.  So I try to calm her by assuring  that she is still just a smidge shorter than me, that the measurement she received at work is obviously a mistake.

Then came my mistake, as I heard myself foolishly say “And just to prove it  I’ll measure you myself.”  I retrieve our trusty tape measure,  usher Sharon to the nearest wall, instruct her to stand perfectly erect, and spread the tape out carefully head to toe.

Hmmmm…….sixty three and one half inches…five foot three and a half.  Can’t be right.  Let’s try it again……yep…..five-three and a half.  She is crestfallen.  She has shrunk two and a half inches!

Like the loving, thoughtful, considerate husband that I am, I console her and tell her she is still as beautiful as ever.  However, along with all that loving, thoughtfulness and consideration comes a very slow brain reaction.  It was not until several minutes later that the synapses started to piece together.

Let’s see now……

A. Sharon has shrunk.

B.  Sharon is still almost as tall as me.

Therefore:

C……no wait, this can’t be true!  Sharon, measure me immediately!

I plaster myself against the wall, fighting with all that is inside of me the urge to brace up on my tiptoes.  Sharon stretches the tape…..65 inches.  Five foot five!

No way!  I grab the tape and endeavor to measure myself….stepping on the leading edge and pulling it up across my face.  Using this highly questionable method, I come up with another half inch.  Still, I face the horrible truth.  I have shrunk!

I’m really not sure why this is so depressing.  It really hasn’t changed our lives in any way.  Heck, we didn’t even know it.  I guess it goes to show the disproportionate value we humans place on height.  Especially us men.

I’ll just put it out there.  Life is better for a man if he is tall.  It’s true.  Studies show that tall men get better jobs, more girls, and just generally more respect.

When a tall man walks into a room, everyone notices.   Clothes are made for tall men.  The racks are full of sizes Large, Extra Large, Extra Extra Large, and Step Aside Little Man.  Those of us searching for size small are fortunate to find one or two at the end of the rack, usually marked with a sign saying “Really?”  Or “For more selections please see the children’s department”.

After all, the classic saying is “Tall, dark and handsome”, as if the latter two are impossible without the first.  Who came up with that expression anyway?  Have they never heard of Tom Jones?  Sylvester Stallone? Mickey Rooney?  (If you’re under the age of 40, I can hear you saying “Who?”)

I  learn from the internet (so it must be true) that it has something to do with the muscles and stuff in your spine compressing and flattening out as you age.

So if you are a fellow senior citizen, pull out your driver license, look at the listing for height, and give it a sentimental kiss, because the reality is it’s probably just a wonderful memory.

As for me, my ego remains fragile.  So if you see me on the street, resist the urge to call me Shorty or Pee Wee.

That is…..if you notice me at all.

 

 

It  was still there.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was still there.  Sharon and I still feel drawn to the local Friday night high school football game.

This despite the fact we have had no children in the local schools for well over a decade.  No kids in the color guard, dance line, football team, school play, pageants, nothing.  The small but consistent group of other parents/friends we hung out with at all the games has long since disbanded and gone separate ways in pursuit of grand kids and other pastimes.  Many years since we’ve had any significant connection of any kind to the local schools.

But yet the attraction won’t go away.  Some sort of magnetic force  that  seems to compel us to attend at least one game per season.  So on a recent Friday evening, we wiped the spider webs and blew the dust off our portable stadium seat backs, threw them in the trunk and set out for the game.  It was something to do….something I felt we needed to do.

For some reason inexplicable,  I think I began to figure out the compulsion.  It began with our arrival at the entrance to the parking lot.  Standing side by side at the gate was a white man and a black woman, both smiling warmly.  The man handed me our parking ticket while the woman took my money and chirped “Thank you for supporting girls basketball.”

Actually, I had no idea I was supporting girls basketball.  I was just looking for a place to park.  But hey, whatever works.  Glad to help.

We entered the stadium, and I made my pilgrimage to the concession stand.  We always buy our dinner at the game.  We are duty bound to support the band in this way.  And there are fond memories of the time when it was us in that booth asking if you want regular Coke or diet.  As I approached the window, I couldn’t help but notice a black man and a white woman side by side.  The man took my order and money while the woman delivered my food almost as fast as I ordered it.  Smiles and courtesy all around.

Sharon and I are not members of the booster club, so we can’t sit in the reserved full seated areas overlooking the middle of the field.  So we headed toward the end zone, stopping about even with the 20 yard line.  I reasoned if we were going to sit that far down, we’d better get high to get a good view of the game, so we trooped up the steps to about 4 rows from the top.  I’m not sure the great view was worth the effort to get up there, considering I was panting like a dog that had just been on a long walk on a hot summer day, but we made it!  Didn’t even spill the Coke (diet).

A couple we hadn’t seen in a long time wandered up and sat behind us (also panting).  We got caught up on their lives.  It didn’t take long, however, to realize we had sat too close to the aisle.  Throughout the night there was a parade of little kids, oblivious to the game, who were playing around the railing.  I noticed there was a little white girl explaining to a little black girl how to straddle the lower bar of the railing and transform it into a slide.  They grabbed hold and slid down one behind the other, and having reached the bottom they giggled and hugged each other with unmitigated glee.  This exercise would be repeated countless times.

On the field, the band assembled for the national anthem, black trumpet player alongside white bass drummer.  Cheerleaders, dance team, color guard, white and black, standing at attention.  Once the game began, I found myself taking note that our white quarterback was handing the ball off to our black running back who ran behind a white blocker, getting helped up after being tackled by a black teammate.  Everybody cheering for everybody.

Wait a minute….. I might be on to something.  Could this be it?  Is this where the irresistible attraction is coming from?

I’ve come to suspect the Friday night game is an escape hatch.  In a culture strongly divided by politics, race, and religion, it’s an event where none of those things seem to be able to separate people.  We’re all one.  The goal is common.  We all want the same thing.  Why is this so easily accomplished at a sports event, but yet so elusive in society?

After the game, we got in the car, pulled out and waited forever for someone to let us in line toward the exit.  Finally, a good Samaritan stopped short, creating an opening.  Under the glowing street lamp I could see the driver waving us in ahead of him.  He was a black man.

By the way, our team won.

I think we all did.

 

So you’ve been to the ocean, to the mountains, to the White House, to the Grand Canyon, to Europe, and the islands.  Now it’s time to start thinking about that next vacation and you’re ready for something different.  May I recommend the great state of Alaska?

Wait!  you say.  Alaska?  Why would I want to freeze my posterior touring a dreary world of ice and snow?  Ah grasshopper, how little you know about the land they call “the final frontier”.

Actually, the extent of what I knew about Alaska prior to this summer was that Sarah Palin lives there, or at least she did before becoming a reality TV star.  But all that changed when Sharon and I took a 14 day excursion through our 49th state.  What we discovered was breathtaking, educational, and downright fun.

First of all, understand that Alaska is big.  I mean, really big.  You could fit Texas, California, and Montana inside it.  This means it takes some time to get from attraction to attraction.  So if you’re going to see it….really see it…..you need more than a week.  Two weeks is better.

Yet despite its enormous size, fewer people live in the entire state than live in metro Birmingham, Alabama.  Alaska has under 750,000 residents. That means thousands of miles of uncivilized, unspoiled, completely natural landscape.   It is what the world was like before humans messed it up.

We took a group tour and this is definitely the way to go.  You can try to navigate it by yourself but you’ll miss a lot of information, a lot of locations, and a lot of really enjoyable social interaction.  We used Holiday Vacations and they do a wonderful job, but there are several other companies that do the tour as well.  In fact, tourism is the number two industry in Alaska, second only to the oil business.

Our group flew from Birmingham to Houston (before the hurricane), and from Houston to Anchorage.  The latter leg is a 6 and a half hour flight.  Air travel certainly has changed.  Eleven years ago we flew to Hawaii and we were constantly inundated with food, drink, and free inflight entertainment including movies and games.  About one hour into this trip, the flight attendant gave us a drink and tossed us a bag of mini pretzels.  About two hours later I inquired as to when the food would be served.  She gave me a wry little smile as if to say “you don’t travel much, do you?”  ( I don’t). There would be no food unless you buy it.  Bottom line, bring your own…and bring it from home.  On the flight back I bought a sandwich at the airport and stuffed it in my carry-on.  Of course, the sandwich cost roughly the same as I would have paid to buy food on the plane, but I couldn’t help thinking that I somehow outsmarted them.

Anchorage is as close as you’ll get to a big city.  About 300,000 people, around 40 percent of all the people in the state.  I’m sure they have buildings higher than three floors, but I didn’t see any other than our hotel.  About a block away was a street stand selling reindeer hot dogs.  Nope, couldn’t do it.  Can’t bare the thought of eating Rudolph.  Nice restaurants and gift shops, and the residents love their tourists and treat them well.

From Anchorage we visited Alyeska Resort, including a heartstopping tram ride up the side of Mt. Alyeska.  No place for anyone afraid of heights but incredible views of glaciers, lakes and mountain ranges.

Next we went to Wasilla, residence of the aforementioned Sarah Palin.  No sign of Sarah, but we had a blast at the Iditarod Trail riding the sled dogs. The sled was on wheels (it was July, temps in the 70’s, quite beautiful actually) and the ride was much faster than we envisioned.  More like a thrill ride as we hung on while 12 dogs took off with us in tow.  Afterward we toured the kennel where the dogs are raised.  Made the mistake of letting Sharon hold one of the adorable puppies.  Had all I could do to keep her from stowing it in her purse.

The six hour bus ride through Denali National Park is billed as one of the featured attractions of the trip, but I found it a bit overrated.  The scenery is impressive, but the few animals we saw were so far away that you could only appreciate them by watching the driver’s camera zooming in and showing them on the hanging monitors.  Speaking of the driver, she was the highlight.  A gray haired, rugged looking woman with a low, gravelly voice.  She manhandled that large bus along the hairpin trail that hugged the very edges of the cliff, all the while keeping up a fascinating narration of what we were seeing, and then pulling to the side and grabbing her video camera to focus in on wildlife spotted on the mountain sides.  She had a dry sense of humor that had me chuckling throughout.

In Fairbanks we got a look at the Trans-America pipeline, quite an engineering masterpiece, and got to pan for gold at one of the dredges.  Sharon and I actually had some gold specks in our pans.  (Everybody gets a little. It’s in the soil.)  It was measured out at 33 dollars worth.  We’re rich! There’s also a riverboat ride with a stop at an Indian camp.  Seaplanes will take off and land around you.

A journey on the Alaska Highway took us to the town of North Pole where, as you might have guessed, there is a huge Christmas store including the big jolly guy himself taking orders.  This was probably Sharon’s favorite part of the trip as she glided all over the establishment collecting gifts for grand kids and family.  My assignment was to purchase postcards and mail them out with the North Pole postage mark on them.  If you fill them out and buy a stamp they will mail them right out of the store.

Eventually, we crossed into the Yukon Territory of Canada where we boarded a train and followed the route of the early Klondike gold prospectors.  The back story is incredible.  When you actually see what these gold seekers had to go through just for the hope of staking a claim and striking it rich, you marvel at their courage and determination.  A very small percentage found gold, and many didn’t survive the ordeal.

The tour finale was a four day cruise out of Skagway into Glacier Bay.  You could stand on the bow of the ship and gaze at the massive ice and mountain sculptures.  It’s like looking at a painting come to life, a photographer’s dream.  You hear loud cracking sounds as chunks of ice break off the glacier, and watch as they tumble into the sea and stir nutrients in the soil, attracting fish which in turn attract flocks of seagulls.  Some of our groupmates saw whales frolicking in the frigid water.

The cruise ended in Vancouver, then a ride to Seattle and the flight home.  During the course of the tour, there were bus rides during which it was not uncommon to see bears munching on shrubs on the side of the road, moose strolling across the highway, bald eagles soaring overhead, mountain sheep, and more.  I felt closer to nature and, dare I say it, closer to God.  He definitely did some of His best work here.

Oh by the way, it never got totally dark while we there, and never got colder than about 50, or warmer than about 75.  July is the perfect month in that region.  One other note.  There are no detours in Alaska.  There is one road and one road only from place to place, and if that road is blocked for any reason, you are delayed until it opens.  Unless you want to rent a team of sled dogs.  It’s part of the charm.

So forget the stereotypes.  No eskimos.  No igloos.   No walruses on ice floes clapping their fins.  Just the pure, uncivilized beauty and order of the wild.  It’s a trip that belongs on your bucket list.

Warning:  Exposure may cause you to think deep philosophical thoughts and deepen your awe of The Almighty.

 

 

I have been a Christian all my life.  But I’m not a robot.  The pendulum of life swings with a wide path and, like even the most rock solid of the Faith, there are times when I have my doubts.

Often in these times the world seems like a dark, scary place.  If He was really there, would such injustice, inequity, and lack of regard for human life be allowed to continue?   So much hate, so much anger, resentment, jealousy, ignorance.  Sometimes it rattles the bolts that lock my soul around my Savior.

But now come grandchildren.  And through their tiny fingers I re-establish my grip on the Truth.   That only the Almighty could wrought something like a fresh, new human life, so helpless yet so full of unlimited potential.  Yes, He’s still there alright.  Who else could send you on this wondrous new journey?

It began by mentally revisiting the birth of my own kids….trying to wrap my mind around the concept that I could actually help create another human life…..and do so without any special education or skills.  Scientists spend a lifetime studying the genome, but I could sire a human without even knowing the difference between a kidney and a bladder.  This new life would be born with intellect and emotion……..and a social conscience, none of which I could have programmed.  Yet there had to be a programmer.

Even more incredible is that this individual I helped to create was, in turn, capable of helping to create another life….my grandchild……a little person that would resemble me in ways obvious and subtle.  It had been almost 30 years since I held and observed a newborn life.  Long enough to forget that we come into this world with absolute helplessness.  Often born to caregivers who know little or nothing about meeting our needs.  Who make mistake after mistake.  Yet we survive and even thrive…..dare I say it…..by the grace of God.

I was intrigued at how my infant grandchildren had to learn how to be human.  Guess I expected more things to be instinctive.  For example, simply grasping an object.  I would place a tiny toy on his little hand.  At first, he would just kind of pin it between two fingers to pick it up.  He literally had to learn how his hand works.  In time he figured out how to bend his fingers at the joints and grasp something.  Seems we take about the first six months or so just to figure out how our bodies function.

But brother, once we do figure it out, it’s on!  The rate of learning shifts into warp drive.  We are programmed to quickly absorb language, personality, strength, agility, not to mention emotional manipulation, something at which a baby/toddler excels!  I am in amazement at how the programming follows the same, exact sequence for virtually all healthy babies.  Turning over, then bracing up into the “starting block” position, crawling, pulling up, and, consummately, walking.  Photo albums contain pages of fill-in-the-blank spaces for these momentous events in precisely that sequence.   Because its part of the plan.  His plan.

By 21 months my precious granddaughter can repeat virtually anything I say (uh-oh), re-enact every physical thing I do, figure out how to do things I don’t want her to do, and destroy my disciplinary will with a quick hug and kiss.  Such wisdom and cunning at such a tender age.  As I rock my grandson I watch his eyes gently lose control and slowly close…..beautiful eyes capable of performing over ten thousand different movements and functions.  Petite ears that not only hear a wide spectrum of sound, but somehow arrange perspectives of that sound so that he can tell which noises are close and which distant.  A tiny red tongue that, in time, will learn to contort into hundreds of positions to enunciate the different sounds of the language.

All of these spectacularly complex functions can only happen because we are born with the capability to perform them, without any pre-design whatsoever from a human hand.  The programmer has taken care of it all.  It’s impossible….no, make that ridiculous….. for me to believe, having observed my subjects at close range, that this could be the result of some random evolutionary events.  It is, purely and simply, an act of God.  It is the human miracle.

So let the terrorists threaten, the racists hate, the overzealous liberals and conservatives bicker.  My God is still in control.  I know this because my grandson just spit up all over my shirt, and then flashed me a big smile that said “Relax Grampa.  Everything’s gonna be ok.”

 

My wife Sharon and I are classic pack rats.  We live in  a house bursting with stuff  for which we have absolutely no use, but which we either never got around to, or can’t bring ourselves to throw away.

Ever set out on one mission and wind up diverting into another completely unexpected journey?  That was the case with us recently when Sharon started rifling through an old metal document box tucked away deep in a hall closet.  She was searching for a car title, but instead she discovered a pile of old checkbook registers.  They dated back more than 40 years.

For us it was something akin to discovering the Dead Sea scrolls.  We immediately abandoned the search for the car title and spent the next few hours on an incredible trip down memory lane.  Just wading through the various entries seemed to bring back vivid memories of the beginning of our life together, not to mention incredible snapshots of the world as it existed four decades ago.

The checkbook we found most iconic was dated 1975…the year we were married.  I thought it would be fun to share some of the entries with you.

August 14th, 1974                                                                                                FLEET FARM…..$88.57                                                                                      MEMO:  4 new tires for car                                                                                This averages out to a little over $22 per tire.  You can’t hardly buy one tire for 88 bucks today.

January 8th, 1975                                                                                                WISCONSIN TELEPHONE COMPANY……$22.49                                                MEMO:  December phone bill                                                                             I would be embarrassed to tell you what our phone bill is today.  Bear in mind this bill would reflect just one wall phone in my apartment.  No mobiles, no text messaging charge, no internet  (the world wide web was still about 20 years into the future).

July 7th, 1975                                                                                                     C & T AMERICAN  MOTORS…..$1,847.80                                                           MEMO:  New car                                                                                                 Yes, I actually bought a brand new American Motors Gremlin for  a little over $1800.  I was getting married in three months and I wanted my girl to ride in style!  (Sure, you laugh now, but Gremlins were all the rage at that time….at least for people on my humble radio deejay budget.)

August 10th, 1975                                                                                                JAMES COWAN, LANDLORD……$75.00                                                             MEMO:  First month rent                                                                                   Two months before the wedding.  We picked out an upstairs apartment in an old house as our first love nest.  I lived there alone until the big day.  An elderly lady lived below us.  When our TV or stereo was too loud (which was all the time) she would take a broom stick and bang it on the ceiling to indicate to us to turn it down.  She was considerably more friendly when she would ask me to shovel the snow off the sidewalk and driveway.

August 31st, 1975                                                                                                 H.C. PRANGE COMPANY……..$411.84                                                                 MEMO:   Sofa and dining room set                                                                    At first I just slept on a mattress on the floor with a folding chair in the den.  Sharon was beginning to furnish the nest.

September 17th, 1975                                                                                          TREASURE ISLAND AUTO SERVICE….$8.52                                                     MEMO:  Oil change for car                                                                                 Nothing but the best for that Gremlin.  Try getting that price for an oil change today.

September 24th, 1975                                                                                         FOX CITIES COMMUNICATIONS…$6.50                                                           MEMO:  First cable TV bill                                                                                  Cable TV was in its infancy, but I was intrigued by the concept, especially this new channel that showed nothing but obscure sports events.  It was called ESPN.  Probably never catch on.

October 2nd, 1975                                                                                               JUDY WILLIAMS…..$51.45                                                                                  MEMO:  Wedding cake                                                                                       16 days before the wedding.  I have no recollection of who Judy Williams was.  But I do remember that cake was awesome.  I’m guessing they are a little more expensive now.

October 10th, 1975                                                                                               KIMBERLY FLOWERS……$121.00                                                                        MEMO:  Wedding flowers                                                                                  What???  The flowers were more than twice as expensive as the cake?  Personally, I got much more enjoyment out of the cake.  8 days until the wedding.

October 18th, 1975                                                                                               GUEST HOUSE INN….$19.74                                                                               There was no memo for this entry, but this was our wedding day so I’m assuming this was our hotel the first night as man and wife.  Could it really have been this inexpensive?  Guess this was when she found out she had not married a big spender.

Interestingly, that was the final entry in the register.  Apparently Sharon took over the finances after that and I haven’t had a clue where we stand financially since.  By the way, there was never a deposit more than $400 in the book, which gives you an idea of my income level in those days.

I guess now that Sharon and I have enjoyed  reliving our youth, it’s time to finally throw the old checkbooks away for real………….

……….Nawwww, that’s not gonna happen.  Back into the old metal file box they go.  I want to take this journey again after another 40 years.

 

 

 

 

Random thoughts about this strange and wonderful journey:

I have noticed that if I slowly and gently sneak on top of the bathroom scale, instead of just abruptly stepping on it, my weight is about a pound lighter.  Make sure you get off quickly before your scale realizes you’ve tricked it.

Am I the only one who has completely forgotten how to adjust the clock in my car by the time daylight savings changes?

If I see a “lane closed ahead” sign while driving on the freeway, I dutifully pull over into the stacked up through-lane immediately.  Then I sit and do a slow boil as I watch other cars drive in the closed lane all the way up to the merge point, and wind up getting let in way ahead of me.  Can’t tell if I’m mad at them or at myself for not doing it.

Why is the TV always tuned to CNN in the waiting room of the auto service department?  Maybe they want you to get used to hearing a lot of bad news so you won’t explode when they show you the bill.

It’s amazing how sound can carry.  If I go out in my backyard on a quiet day, I can hear two of my neighbors talking to each other nearly a block away.  Hmmm….makes me wonder what I have said about my neighbors in the backyard.

My dog must be thinking….why do I have to do my duty out in the rain and cold when you get to stay in the nice, comfortable bathroom?  This could explain the unpleasant little surprises I sometimes find.

It has become nearly impossible for me to watch a television program in real time because of the length of the commercial breaks.  My DVR has risen to the top three of the most important things in my life, right after God and family. (and sometimes second place is a toss-up)

I’m so jealous of all these men who can grow these thick, full-face beards that are so popular now.  When I try, my face looks like a garden after three months of drought.

It just doesn’t seem right to have to pay to make the air pump work at the gas station.  Shouldn’t air be free?  What’s next?  A charge for breathing?

I don’t get how so many restaurants can advertise that they serve “home cooking”.  Nothing in a restaurant is home cooking unless the chef is making it in his own kitchen and bringing it to work.

You see that random item in your house every single day.  So why is it not there when you actually need it?

Disturbing trend:  Looks like hotels are getting away from supplying bibles in the drawers.  The last few I have stayed in had none.

If you wear a ball cap for a long period of time, eventually you forget its there.  But then when you take it off, it feels like it’s still there.

Why do people push elevator buttons that are clearly lit up and have already been pushed?

No matter how old I get, when I have to twist a cap or knob, I have to revert back to the childhood phrase “righty tighty, lefty loosey”.

I am amazed at how some people can’t tell the difference between a movie theater and their own living rooms, and thus feel free to talk out loud during the entire picture.  And why do they always manage to sit directly behind me?

How can some people stand forever in a long line at the concession stand, but when they get up there they still don’t know what they want?

And finally, why did the Good Lord make you and me so perfect, and yet built so many flaws in so many other folks?

 

 

It was what I considered the gaping hole in a 43 year media career.

I have had the privilege and opportunity to meet and sit down and conduct personal interviews with world famous news figures, sports heroes, singers, actors and political figures.  But the one interview I always wanted to do eluded me…..I had never met or interviewed a current or former President of the United States.

That hole has now been filled.  I am thrilled to announce that I had an exclusive, one-on-one, personal sit down interview with President Donald Trump.

Okay.  Full disclosure.  That previous statement is a half-truth.  But as we all know, in politics a half-truth counts as a fact.

I did indeed have an exclusive interview with Donald Trump.   It just happened to take place 32 years before he was elected president.  It was the Spring of 1984 to be exact.

Still, that was no small accomplishment.  Even then Trump was a worldwide celebrity and media darling.  National press was all over every move he made.  Famous journalists whose names you would immediately recognize would have drooled over the same opportunity.

At the time, I was the sports anchor at Channel 13 in Birmingham, the NBC affiliate.  Part of my beat was covering the Birmingham Stallions of the United States Football League, a new professional league going into its second year of existence.  The USFL played its games in the spring to avoid competing against the established and powerful National Football League.  The opening game of the 1984 season was to be against the New Jersey Generals, a team that just happened to be owned by…….you guessed it….Donald Trump.

As he is now, Trump then was already overcoming long odds and achieving things nobody thought he could pull off.  He had shocked the sports world by outbidding the NFL on two Heisman Trophy winners, and convincing them to sign with his fledgling team.  Herschel Walker and Doug Flutie immediately made the Generals the media epicenter of the young league.

The team was scheduled to arrive in Birmingham on Saturday, with the game to be played the following day.  It is customary for the local media to camp out at the team hotel and interview players and coaches as they arrive.  While my media brethren were focusing on trying to interview Walker and Flutie, I decided to try going higher.

Figuring Trump might accompany the team, I contacted the Generals publicity people days ahead and requested a personal interview with the owner.  I knew it was a long shot.  Like I said, he was turning down national media requests left and right.  The chances of a local yokel like me landing him were about as good as my chances of getting President Ronald Reagan. (see what I did there?)

But I took my shot.  I knew I had one thing going for me…..Trump’s ego.  You see, Trump didn’t really want to own a USFL team, he wanted to own an NFL team.  He wanted in to the most powerful and prestigious sports league in the world.  But none of the current NFL owners would sell to him.  His plan was to make the USFL so successful, and such a threat to the NFL, that it would force the established league to merge with them and take in their teams.  It was the same plan successfully executed by the American Football League in the 1960’s.

I told the PR man that I would air the Trump interview and promote it heavily that night, which would generate more ticket sales to the game the next day, thereby providing a big crowd for national television, thereby making the league appear more viable.   I had no idea if that would actually happen, but it must have sounded well coming out of my mouth because…..much to my surprise…..it worked!!!

The team got back to me and I was told Mr. Trump would sit down with me the afternoon of the day before the game.  I arrived on time at the hotel and noticed no other media there at the moment.  I was greeted in the lobby by a PR type who was the very personification of the slick, fast talking guys you would see playing the role of a boxing promoter  in the movies.  Cigar in his mouth, thick New York accent, and all.

He took me all the way up the elevator to the top floor penthouse suite.  I had actually never been in one before and I was struck at how spacious and plush and beautiful it was.  I had no idea such accommodations existed in Birmingham.  I pictured Mr. Trump in there, enjoying a rare, quiet moment alone before resuming his busy schedule.  But as I was led in, the suite was full of people.  I guess it was the entourage.  Men and women dressed in business attire.  Trump was sitting at a table and people were all around him, tending to his every need and whispering things to him.  The PR type informed me that I had 15 minutes.

TV newsrooms in medium markets like Birmingham are short on people on the weekends, so I wound up having to shoot the interview myself, carrying my own camera on my shoulder and rolling while holding the mic out in front of the interview target.   Not exactly the three and four person sound crews Trump was used to working with!  I was a little embarrassed and felt the people in the room snickering at me, but I pressed on.

The interview went very well.  Trump was gracious and kind.  He was in a good mood and did not blow me off with “yes” and “no” answers to get me out of the room, as I had expected.  He tried very hard to give introspective responses.  He was very complimentary of Alabama and its people and its proud football tradition.  He was supremely confident and spoke in imperatives.  “We WILL be a success.  The fans WILL love the product.  The NFL WILL sit up and take notice.”

I went way over my 15 minutes as the PR type wrung his hands and gave me the “wrap” sign.  But….here’s a shock……Trump loved being on camera, and seemed willing to go as long as I wanted.  We finally finished up.  Trump shook my hand and said quite sincerely “Thanks for the interview.  See you at the game tomorrow”.

The PR type quickly ushered me back to the elevator and thanked me as well, although I don’t think he made eye contact with me at any point. I did air portions of the interview that night.  The following day a huge crowd of over 60,000 showed up for the game, by far the biggest crowd in the Stallions brief, 3 year history.  Of course, my interview had nothing to do with that, but I love to entertain in my own mind that it might have.

So that was my encounter with a future president.  As I watch Trump conduct himself in the White House, I recognize all the same characteristics I got to observe first hand.  He hasn’t changed.  He’s going to be himself.

As it pertains to politics, I have no strong feeling about President Trump one way or the other, unlike most people.  I am taking a wait and see approach to his presidency.  I desperately want this country to come together and mend its differences.  Is he the man to do it?  Time will tell.

But from my own meeting with him I can tell you this:  He believes he will.  He has no doubt whatsoever that he will be a success…..and he doesn’t care what people think.  He is unaffected by the criticism.  Just as he was unaffected by the criticism he took from the other USFL owners when he pushed to move the season to the fall to compete head on with the NFL, and then pushed the league to sue the NFL for monopolizing fall football.

I have no idea what the next four years have in store….but I have a feeling they will not be boring.