nobody asked…

My good friend, JohnB, over at Blog Meridian has divulged a trick of the trade guaranteed to send the traffic at any site right out the roof. According to JohnB, and he is never wrong, at least not that I’m aware of, all one has to do to achieve rock star status is to post this graphic image anywhere on the site. So here it is for all who will dare to come and feast their eyes upon it. I thank JohnB in advance for helping me realize my rightful place among the stellar celebrities of the blogosphere. As for the rest of you, it’s been real, but my true calling awaits as I say adieu to you traffic-bound gnarlies.

Oh, I think my text was also supposed to include a reference to MacGyver. Just to make sure, I’ll also liberally sprinkle MacGyver in the tags and hyperlink. And maybe a couple more in the text. Angus, me laddie, do your magic…

MacGyver.

MacGyver.

There, that should do it. Bye bye, suckers…

[This is adapted from a great little story from Zig Ziglar’s motivational book, See You At The Top.]

Zig noticed his wife would cut a small amount off the ends of the Sunday roast before putting it in a pan and roasting it, so he asked, “Why do you cut the ends off the roast?”

“Because my mother was the best cook in the world and that is how she did it.”

When they went to visit her mother he asked the same question. He received the same answer.

Several months later, at a Thanksgiving dinner hosted by his wife’s grandmother, Zig asked the grandmother, “All of the ladies in your family certainly make excellent Sunday roasts, and everyone in the the family cuts the ends off the roast because that is the way they were taught. Please tell me, why do you do it?”

She replied, “Because my pan was too short.”

How many habits and routines do we blindly and unquestioningly follow without ever once thinking about why? How many rituals are no longer necessary and serve no purpose. As you make your way through the rigors and tedium of another day, think about your “could do it blindfolded” path. I am not suggesting you should change — just think about it and understand why you do the things you do. Chances are you will find a few things that you want to change. Some might save you time, some money, some just make you feel better. You might find some things don’t need to be done at all. But it is also comforting to know and understand that many of the things you have been doing for years are done for the right reasons and do not need to change.

We get ideas and habits so ingrained that we too often take our way to be The Way, The Right Way, The Only Way. Take time to understand and remember that with most of the things we say and know and do, there are usually multiple ways of achieving the same results. You and your mate, or boss, or co-workers, or neighbors, may have very different ways of doing something, but neither of you may be necessarily right or wrong. Just different. And different can be good…

Our little abode sits in the middle of Fieldstone Farms, a large Planned Unit Development in Franklin, Tennessee. Historic Franklin is the heartbeat of Williamson County, one of the fastest growing and most affluent counties in the country, 15 miles from Nashville. Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder at the affluent part and why we’re here, cause we ain’t. If we had not bought almost 14 years ago, just prior to the start of the boom, we would not be here.

As much growth as the area has seen, there is still a significant amount of green space, some of it virgin forest, some of it pastureland. Little is farmed for crops now, other than as food and silage for the area livestock. It is amazing that within one mile of the house, we see these sights every day. Lots of beef cattle and horse farms, and the occasional buffalo or llama. Much of this agrarian activity is conducted by gentleman farmers who may be corporate executives, bankers, music or sports celebrities, or just some of the numerous old money folks around here. Some of them made their millions by selling off their back-forty acres, or four-hundred, for development of all that we’ve seen spring up around us over the last 15 years. Regardless, I for one am glad they are here and have their hobbies of cattle, horses, and exotics. As long as they are here, we’ll have plentiful green space, and kids will grow up knowing what horses and cows and buffalo and llamas and barns and tractors and silos and forests look like.

Never since I died
have I felt so much alive
as here now with you.

If you don’t like it, you’re in good company. A poet I am not. A haikuist (?) I am not. On a whim, I entered it in a haiku contest. It did not win. However, it did place 10th. There was a total of, uh, 10 entries, as I recall. Now, Jean, there’s a true poet.

I found this little jewel over at Joared’s Along The Way:

How come we choose from just two people for President, and fifty for Miss America?

She found it on a Wikipedia page dedicated to Alfred E. Neuman’s quotes. If you are old enough to say, What, Me Worry?, raise your hand.

Last night I finally found the time to sit quietly and read the entire text of Barack Obama’s March 18, 2008, speech, A More Perfect Union. Having heard snippets of it aired by the media over the last couple of days, I already knew that it was delivered with Obama’s singularly powerful oratorical skill. He eloquently and effectively delivers with the same style as Dr. Martin Luther King, a passionate style that captivates an audience with deliberate, methodical rhythm and repetition. The effect is indeed powerful and convincing. Not all leaders have this ability, but all truly great leaders are masters of oratory. They use their talents to persuade and motivate people to dream, to hope, to achieve. Barack Obama is such a leader.

The short clips I have seen and heard do not do justice to the power or intent of Obama’s speech on race. As I read the full text, I caught myself frequently nodding agreement, tensing when the truth cut too close to home, and frowning when confronted with the ugly reality that in 2008 there still exists in the United States of America, a deep dark chasm separating what we say we believe from the way we live. Being a 60-something white male who spent an important part of my life working for equality of opportunity for my black, brown, yellow, and red brothers and sisters, I know, for I have seen, how very far we have come in the last generation. And it rips at the core of who I am to know that we still have so very far to go. But I have hope…

Barack Obama’s campaign to become the Democratic nominee for President of the United States is, in and of itself, a living proof of the changes that have occurred in the fabric of American culture over the last few decades. The racially charged slurs and attacks on him confirm that we have so very much left to accomplish. The broad based support of Obama’s campaign signals hope that we are on the right track. The promise of his campaign is unity. The message of his campaign is hope…

Concluding his speech is a vignette about a young white woman named Ashley. I do not want to deny you the emotional impact of that story, except to say that my chosen title was a remark made by an elderly black man in response to the question of why he attended an organizational meeting in support of Barack Obama. I’m here because of Ashley. I urge you to read the entire text of Obama’s defining and historic speech. By the end you may shed a tear or two. I did…

Barack Obama gives me hope…

¿dn ǝpısuʍop ʇɐɥʇ sı ɹo ˙uʍop ǝpısdn ʇı ʎɐs ‘ʎɐs oʇ ƃuıɥʇou ǝʌɐɥ noʎ uǝɥʍ

[Tip of the chapeau to JR who found this elsewhere.]

THERE IS A PLEASURE IN THE PATHLESS WOODS

by Lord Byron, (George Gordon)

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

The first few lines of Lord Byron’s poem appeared on screen at the beginning of the movie, Into the Wild, which Roomie and I watched over the weekend. The film is based on a true story about a young man, Christopher McCandless, who died in the wilds of Alaska while seeking adventure, searching for himself, and probing for true meaning in and of his existence. This is a much better movie than I expected, and I do recommend it.

Reading and pondering the meaning of Lord Byron’s words brought to mind a couple of other writers who also sought their own individualistic experience and expression of life. In The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost addresses the value of independence and personal freedom in making choices at the forks in life’s road. And, of course, one cannot view the movie without thinking of Thoreau and his desire for simple living and self-reliance by embracing and becoming one with nature, as expressed in Walden.

Many other writers, philosophers, and thinkers over the centuries have expressed similar or companion notions that opt for freedom of the individual over the bonds and trappings of society and government. Whether it is labeled transcendental idealism, pragmatic existentialism, rational individualism, or some other construct of human seeking, there remains a strong romantic appeal to a simpler life free of the shackles of society.

Now, I must go to work because the mortgage is due again next month…

… and a Happy and somewhat less than fully sober St. Paddy’s day to you!

Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines. — John Benfield

If you had a pulse in 1967, you knew this song by Buffalo Springfield. It was written by Stephen Stills (yes, that Stephen Stills), one of the founders of the group, after he witnessed police actions against a crowd of young people gathered on Sunset Strip to stage an anti-war protest. The song was recorded in December 1966, and by March 1967, Buffalo Springfield had a Top Ten Hit. The group was together just over two years, but was an influential folk-rock group that served as a springboard for the careers of Neil Young, Stephen Stills, Richie Furay and Jim Messina. Understanding that this is a protest song, enjoy Buffalo Springfield performing For What It’s Worth. The lyrics are below the video window in case you want to sing along…

There’s something happening here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

There’s battle lines being drawn
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
I think it’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you’re always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away

We better stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, now, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

To remind those who lived it, and to reveal it to those too young to remember, here’s another rendition, creatively crafted into a collage tapestry of images of the day. This is what it was all about. This is what we did in the ’60s to protest another ill-advised war in a land far away, another war we could not and did not win. Where are the young people today? Why are there no protests in the streets? Roomie and I have talked about this on several occasions and we are in agreement — if there was a draft today, it would be the ’60s all over again. Protests. Rallys. One-way trips to Canada. A President and other high-ranking political and military officials with broken spirits. Maybe even free love and nickle beer… nah, not likely.

This was sitting on the apron at the 118th Airlift Wing of the Tennessee Air National Guard at the Nashville International Airport a couple of days ago. Since I was zooming along Murphreesboro Pike at 172 MPH with the rest of the traffic, I could not snap my own picture of it, so copped one from a Google Image Search. Thank you.

I have seen AF1 at that same spot on several occasions over the years, and always have some thoughts and impressions — some old and repetitive, some new and fresh.

• That plane is one big mutha! It dwarfs the seven C-130 TANG Cargo Planes lined up on the tarmac next to it, ready to roll on a moment’s notice to deliver troops and supplies to remote trouble spots in Afghanistan, Iraq, or Alabama.
• Why do we spend gazillions of taxpayer dollars every year keeping this highest-of-tech beauty in the air? Actually, I’ve heard there are a couple of identical planes, so it is double-gazillions. Why can’t Bush fly with the rest of us, crammed into a seat too small for his ass, knees up under his chin, and not enough headroom for his considerable ego?
• It turns out the plane was in town this time to deliver his royal Bushness to meet with a big gathering of religious broadcasters. Care to venture a guess as to what religion was dominant among the attendees? Herr Bush was there to stump for evangelical support for his continuing evangelical destruction of Iraq for no particular reason except that he can, and nobody seems to have the balls to step up and say enough is enough. [Sorry… rant over…]
• According to an article in the Nashville Business Journal, Tennessee’s Senior Senator, Lamar Alexander, was in town for the same function. I wonder who woke him up.
• One of the hot-button issues of the National Religious Broadcasters organization is the Fairness Doctrine, which apparently provides for “balanced public-affairs-related programming.” I do not know enough about this to have an informed opinion. However, Bush and the Republicans are calling it unconstitutional (their favorite label for anything that does not line their pockets), and that’s good enough for me. If Bush is against it, then by gawd I’m for it, whatever it is!

[Side note to self: Schedule some time to work on being more forthcoming with my opinions. Learn to speak up and say what’s on my mind instead of beating around the Bush…]

It was the celebrity kind of thing, like the girls of all ages being madly in love with Tom Jones. But in the early to mid sixties I was soooo in love with Martha. Discovery of this clip from 1965 brought it all back. Or maybe sent me back. It also reminded me of parents and other alleged adults warning us that dancing and twisting we were doing was going to mess up our knees and backs. Yep, they were right about that…

There is no indication of the venue, but I suspect it was the Ed Sullivan Show or some other variety show like that. Could have been Dick Clark’s American Bandstand, but the set is not right. Notice the synchronized choreography of the background vocalists, typical of the acts coming out of Motown in the ’60s. Berry Gordy was — and is — a marketing genius, in addition to having an ear for sounds and an eye for looks that sell.

After you’ve gotten your juices flowing with Dancing In The Streets, search through YouTube’s Martha & The Vandellas offerings, tighten up your knee brace, and cruise on out, riding on a Heat Wave.