A fork in the road

You have to love the word “old”. It is about as vague and generic a word available and probably abused more than any. You might say “That old thing” when someone compliments you on a jacket you bought two years ago, or “I love those turn of the century pictures; anything old”. Both are correct usages of the word, but really mean entirely different things. The truly odd part about this word is that what it means to you often depends on how old you are! See how hard this is?

I really thought about this last night while watching Survivor. Ok, all you Survivor haters, no need to tune out now I promise I’m going somewhere with this. But at the end of every episode they have an election of sorts that removes the least favorite person from the show. I hate to call a vote to remove someone an election, but that’s really what it is. Before the vote there are about 10 minutes of campaigning (a bitch session) where each candidate states the reason(s) they should be allowed to stay. It is often ugly and the two sides are almost always divided by age; the old and the young. Given the fact that there is dirt in my yard that is younger than me, I usually side with the older group.

But last night as I watched the vote with my opinion firmly in place, I had a change of heart. Old against young; experience against inexperience; yes against maybe; it seemed so easy. But right in the middle of the battle the younger of the two announced that yes, this was the first time she had failed, but this was also the first time she had ever tried anything that she was not sure she could complete. She made her attempt armed with the confidence that had historically pulled her through all of her previous life experiences…but failed. Tightrope walking looks easy from the ground.

But what really gave me hope was not the fact that she acknowledged her failure, it was the fact that she knew why. I see this as a defining moment and I think the voting members did as well. A fork in the road, we’ve all been there. At my advanced age I have probably been there a few more times than her, but maybe we should not be judged by our number of attempts. You are allowed three strikes, but you are also graded on a batting average. (Sorry for the sports analogy but I couldn’t resist) But where we go after our mistakes is truly what defines us; these are learning experiences. Do we go through life bragging about our conquests that are actually just things we can do in our sleep? Just because you are good at something doesn’t in itself make it difficult. Just how often do we ever really…try? Don’t fall into the trap of going through the one life you have doing the same old things!

Winter

Mid-winter in Georgia can only be described as long ugly. I know that my friends from the north will be quick to say that I don’t know what a real winter is like, but I do have a pretty good idea. It’s colder and longer than it is here…right? That’s enough for me. I’ve been to Boston in late December and I’m smart enough to know that the only reason I didn’t kill myself is because I only stayed a few days. It’s kind of like visiting the zoo; I love elephants and tigers but I don’t care to live with them.

But is it really much worse to live where the winters are “real”? At least there is snow to cover the imperfection of dormant plants and muddy ditches. Snow mobiles to ride and slopes to ski offer entertainment, and what makes a better picture than a Cardinal on a snow capped bird feeder? But surely this gets old. How many times can you video the dog running in circles and biting the falling snow before you admit that what would really be nice is for it to just warm up! Dogs love to swim. Is it actually worse to just be teased with winter?

We have those really nice days here that everyone calls bonus southern winter days; 75 degrees in January! But have you noticed that these teasers usually occur on Tuesday? By the time the weekend rolls around it’s rainy and cold; a computer weekend. “Ha ha, this should fool them!”

As I stand at the window looking at my backyard all I really see is work; exposed things. Limbs that need pruning, fallen trees that need chopping and a pool that needs cleaning all vie for my attention. (The pool seems like a cruel joke) Give me foliage or give me snow; give me something to cover the ugly season.

Survey says!

I’ve been what could only be described as a “news junkie” for as long as I can remember. I might watch sitcoms and crime shows if there was nothing else to do, but I rarely missed the evening news. I feel sure that this phenomenon is somewhat generational, but I seemed to have entered that generation in the last few years. The re-distribution of hair growth years!

But how do I act now that news is available twenty four hours a day on the internet? Sometimes I go several days without watching the television news and get my weather and local news updates from the radio. I have discovered that the televised news is somewhat behind the news online, and I often wonder if they get their program ideas from the internet…just like me!

But you have to be careful with your interpretation of all of the available information out there. Turns out most all news is opinion! Who would have thought! 75% of the people reading this will hate me for saying this (see I even have statistics because so far only four people have read this and three didn’t like it), but we all know it’s true. How could it not be? If we all watched an event and later described it in a story the details would vary so widely that the original story would be almost unrecognizable. So what do you do?

The answer is simple but it will drive you further off the deep end…you include a comments section. I know I’m not the only person that lightly skims the actual article and heads for the no-man’s land of the comment section because a typical story will have thousands of responses. Of course there are those that disagree with anything ever written and choose to enlighten you to a thinly veiled government or communist plot the story suggests, but there are also well thought out counters to what is being said. Ramifications and reactions to parts of the story you never thought of! Most of the time I end up feeling a little stupid and naive. So what do I do now? I can’t just stop!

I do my homework. I try not to respond or form my opinion until I get my information from several sources. I understand that this is flawed because buying information by the pound doesn’t make it any more right than simply enjoying a small bite. I can tell myself that I look like Brad Pitt 200 times, but when I look in the mirror…turns out I’m still just regular old Ande. Be sure that you are not the one that wakes up in the middle of your best argument and realizes that everything you just declared is wrong. Abraham Lincoln said it best,” better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt”.

Bigfoot

Last weekend my daughter went to the theater to see a horror movie. I don’t remember the name of the movie because we really don’t keep up with that kind at my house, but I saw the preview and it looked scary. We do watch a load of movies, but never horror movies. They don’t scare me or my wife, but my daughter doesn’t care for them at all. She even changes the channel when there is a Chupracabra episode on Scooby Doo! I know she went to the theater only because her friends invited her, but I feel sure she knew the exact thread count of her shoe strings by the movie’s end. Her eye lids were probably sore from being squeezed shut!

She comes by this trait honestly though. Her uncles on both sides of the family did not enjoy scary movies as kids and several have carried this disdain all the way through adulthood. My little brother kept some of these fears until his dying day! Did I pick on him about this? What do you think? Ask my daughter how many times she has aborted her trip to the basement simply because I suggested she watch for Chupacabras! But it wasn’t Chupacabras with my brother, it was Bigfoot!

If anyone was to blame for his fear of this fictional beast it would have be my parents. Sorry mama and daddy, I’m sure I’ve done worse as a parent. They took us to see The Legend Of Boggy Creek at the theater when we were very small boys. Small boys that had recently moved from downtown Milledgeville to live in a mobile home in the middle of 300 acres of dark and mysterious woods. Otherwise known as Bigfoot country!

I guess my older brother and I were old enough to not take the movie too seriously. I remember it scaring us both a little bit, but we both so obsessed with hunting at the time that we really never missed a beat. We probably thought it we encountered this monster we would simply shoot it. Hell, they would probably put our picture in the paper! But it took root in my little brother’s mind and he would go nowhere near the woods alone; even mentioning the word Bigfoot would earn you a stiff slug in the shoulder. All he would say is “That’s not funny”.

Well Bigfoot was a hot topic back in those days, but as the years went by he kind of faded. He is a pretty low-tech monster and they fact that nobody has ever produced an actual body has kind of hurt his credibility. But I found out by accident that my little brother was as scared of him at 30 years old as he had been at 8. I don’t remember when it was exactly, but I do remember someone mentioning Bigfoot at the hunting club one night as we sat around the campfire drinking beer. They were promptly met with “That’s not funny” and given the look to drop the subject. I know he was trying his best to be discreet; the last thing he wanted was for his buddies to know that he was still afraid of Bigfoot! Well, we all know how that works.

Ok I admit I saved up for this one! I waited for quite a while before I brought it back up and I honestly wasn’t sure he even knew that I knew just how bad it bothered him. It was a similar night at the hunting club; pitch black dark with only a roaring campfire for comfort and security. One by one each member recounted his day of hunting. They began with talk of tracks and sightings and ended with possibilities for the following day. Beers were passed around and jokes were told before I was questioned about my day’s adventure. “Did you see anything?” my brother asked me, “You sure are quiet about your day”. Trap set and about to be sprung!

“I didn’t see any deer” I offered “But I did see a strange track. I may move my stand away from it tomorrow”. He swam right up to the hook at this point and opened his mouth. My brother was a much better hunter than me and I knew he would love to solve my problem for me. “What did it look like?” he asked as he leaned forward with a serious look on his face. “Deer? Dog?”

“It was about as big as a shoebox” I said as I help my arms in front of me in the fish measuring position. “And it was shaped kind of like a big human but it only had four toes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this one”.

He looked like I had snatched the rug right out from under him. His eyes searched the crowd to see just exactly who else was paying attention to the conversation and he didn’t (couldn’t) say a word.

“I might even take my camera with me tomorrow”, I couldn’t stop “I don’t want to shoot him, even though I feel sure there is more than one.” At this point pretty much everybody around the fire was listening, and of course, smiling. I couldn’t hold my straight face any longer and I joined the crowd. I knew he was getting mad, but I just couldn’t stop. “I saw some traps you can order online. The ad says they are good for Bigfoots if you need to get rid of some on your property”. Now everybody was laughing!

My brother gave me his most serious look and all he said was “That’s not funny”.

Sorry buddy! I'd love to laugh about it with you right now. But do me a favor, if you have since discovered that there really are such things as Bigfoot could you give me some kind of sign?

Variables

Life is full of variables. There is little we can do about this no matter how hard we try. While they often work in our favor, the ones we really remember are the negative ones; the bad news. The older I get, the more I try to minimize variables. I try to take care of myself and my possessions as best I can, but often all I can really do is sit around with my fingers crossed; I hope (and pray) for the best!

I’m sitting in the waiting area dreading the diagnosis. Surely everything will be fine, this is routine. Of course I have Googled the problem, it IS 2012! There is no excuse to walk in blindly as we did in the past, we can read page after page online and get a pretty good idea of what the problem is. But…here I sit waiting on the diagnosis. I’m once again at the mercy of someone else; someone with much more training and experience in this field; someone who sees this every day. An individual that will try to be sympathetic when breaking the news, good or bad.

Well today was a good day, the news was not bad. With any luck it will be a long time before I have to come back and yes, I will not wait so long between check-ups ever again…I promise!

I don’t mean to make light of tragedy, but I hate having my truck worked on!