I Guess Being a Human Being Makes Me a Prime Candidate for the Human Condition

I’ve been writing this blog for quite a few years. No doubt over the course of those years, I have repeated the subject matter more than once. Not to say there is a lack of fodder, just that I am unable to keep up with the hundreds of my previous posts. I guess being a human being makes me a prime candidate for the human condition.

Some of my best entries have been those grounded in the simple everyday happenings we all experience frequently.

I lean towards humor and shy away from the woes of today. One thing I cannot tolerate concerning the press is their long held mantra, “if it bleeds it leads.” This world has its problems, but that type of thinking is too archaic for all the good that thrives around us today.

I get a kick out of exploring the technological advances of our time. For instance: with the multitude of signals traveling through the airways, be it cell phone, television in its many different arrays, radio, garage door openers, and the different appliances that operate on wireless technology, including the internet. How do the transmission waves keep from becoming intertwined? And what if these signals were visible? Kind of a whole new ballgame, don’t you think?

Or just for the purpose of supposing, how did people in the 19^th century stand one another in the summertime, wearing woolen clothing?

Just a few interesting tidbits to think about. My aim is to bring a smile to someone’s face. For what can be better than passing on that contagious piece of grace at the beginning of each week.

Make it a great one and may God bless!

My Last Year of Elementary School was Spent in the Sixth Grade. It was the Worst of Times, It was the Worst of Times.

My last year of elementary school was spent in the sixth grade. It was the worst of times. It was the worst of times. It was the worst of times.

That chapter of my life I wrote in the 1970’s. I adorned myself in the most horrendous fashion, namely striped bell-bottomed pants. My hairstyle was that of an orangutan holding two high tension wires. I was a redhead with hair poking out of my head seventeen ways to Sunday.

The one thing I avoided like the plague (and I consider this the most important even today) was  disco.

It is difficult to understand why I shied away from such classic hits as: Shake Your Booty, Shake Your Groove Thing, Everybody Dance Now, and (who could forget?) Kung Fu Fighting.

That part of my life was certainly a unique time to grow, especially once I passed through the mid-70s and began to drive.

Even though I made it through the worse fashion created, alongside the worst hairstyles a comb dare run through and the most unlistenable music ever written; I wouldn’t take a million dollars for the experience and wouldn’t give you a nickel for another just like it.

Have an uneventful week, may God bless you richly, and please . . . I’m begging ya, if you hear the Bee Gee’s squeaking about someone having a fever and a particular day of the week . . . I believe it was Saturday. . . plug your ears and run!

As a Young Lad, I Could Not Recall a Time Without a Television in the House.

As a young lad, I could not recall a time without a television in the house. Our first set was on the order of a twenty-five inch Zenith black and white floor model. At that time, only four stations aired: NBC, CBS, ABC, and PBS.

 My favorite superhero was the one and only Superman.  On the big screen that sat in the living room, I watched George Reeves fly around Metropolis doing good to all he met. Copying my hero, this translated to me running around the yard with a towel wrapped around my neck and my arms out front pretending to be flying. Though created before my time, through this show I gazed at this amazing flying man in syndication.

Gilligan’s Island was another favorite. With each episode, I just knew they would get off of the island until Gilligan bungled another rescue attempt. It seemed I watched the majority of my favorite programs in syndication; shows like Leave it to Beaver, The Andy Griffith Show, and Hogan’s Heroes, just to name a few. Each season, stations offered new programs to watch in the fall.  If these new series were popular, they ran most of the year and we watched them again as summer reruns. New shows of the same series premiered in the fall, returned as summer reruns, and so the cycle began.

At that time, producers filmed thirty or more episodes every year, for each series; something you don’t see today. In this day and age, reruns are much more prevalent than in years past. As usual, the consumer seems to get less and less for their money, and I find myself watching more and more of the old shows that have morals and, in most cases, a valuable message.

I guess it’s true; the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Have a great week, God bless, and do yourself a favor by watching a sitcom dated pre-1970.

What Do You Think About Sound? Kind of an Odd Question, Wouldn’t You Say?

What do you think about sound? Kind of an odd question, wouldn’t you say? Of course, there is everyday noise: television, telephone, automobiles, conversation, and the like. What I haven’t made clear when I say the word sound is the type. Now, the type is emitted by what hangs on walls, sits on the floor, covers your ears, and rides around in your ride.

I’m speaking about the world of music and how we as individuals like to interpret the way it enters our outer ear, travels through the pinna, vibrates the eardrum, sets the hammer, anvil, and stirrup into motion to produce the tunes we love to hear.

In my writer’s room, I have seven speakers ranging in size from a set of three-way, two-foot tall Kenway speakers to a small set of (I don’t knows) no more than eight inches tall, that sound as good as the Kenway’s. All of these sound producers adorn my walls, whether setting on a corner shelf or on a flat shelf in the middle of a wall. I can get the back of the house hopping with loud rock-n-roll when I take a notion, or just a nice full sound to enjoy a movie, plus a sound bar to produce light background noise that I find necessary when I write.

Now, that all bases are covered, I’ll be getting back to work. I left a character hanging in a rather precarious situation, and some of these make-believes can get rather cantankerous.

Have a wonderful week, God bless, and do yourself a favor, crank up a tune every now and then. We all need to blow the butterflies out from time to time.

Things Seldom Conclude The Way We Originally Planned

It’s fun to glance back and remember, but more interesting to investigate what has happened in our past; for things seldom conclude the way we originally planned.

Case in point: I was a year or so into my first marriage, had just begun a new home, and would soon be blessed with a baby boy. On top of all this, and not yet knowing my wife would be carrying a son, I was on the lookout for an investment.

Referring to the new home, I decided to do the work myself.  Being a carpenter by trade I’d spent years in the housing market and commercial construction, as a tradesman and superintendent. The difference in this project was the end result would produce a log cabin.

When it came to the investment field, I decided to purchase a lot on the Outer Banks. The one thing about land that makes it a good investment is the fact they’re not making any more, so what we have is all we’ve got.

I’ll never forget the words spoken by the real estate agent in North Carolina. “People that purchase land down here really tend to make something of themselves.”

So how did that turn out for me?  I got a divorce, and lost my job. On a lighter note, my child was a delight and I am still proud to be his father, even into young adulthood. As far as the house, I’d have to say, that living in a log cabin is the way to go.

Have a wonderful week, God Bless, and beware the words of a wily land seller, for they may turn and bite!