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!

Thanks for the update

I have been sleeping really well for the last few months. I don’t mean to sound surprised by this, but given the fact that I will be un-employed in a little over two months…shouldn’t my sleep be affected? Two weeks of vacation over the Christmas holidays was really nice and I got very well rested. We stayed up late and jumped out of bed at the crack of 10:30! We drank a bunch of really special coffee and sat around and just talked. I spent a lot of time reading, often when everyone was asleep, and sometimes with earplugs in front of the television. I know that sounds weird, but just one’s physical presence makes a difference in the mood of the household. Oh, and I don’t like murder/crime TV shows anyway.

But I have also been sleeping with my ear plugs. I usually save this for allergy season because this is the time my wife chooses to harvest her timber, but lately I’ve used them just because. Those chain saws and log trucks make sleep difficult and I hate a day of work after a fitful night of attempted sleep. Ear plugs are great. I have quite a bit of “head noise” in my old age and when I first started using the plugs it sounded like I needed to back away from the microphone; too much feedback. This is probably caused by either noisy machinery or loud music; it’s a shrill ringing. At first I expected to open my eyes and see a television test pattern, (jump right up and show your age), but eventually I got used to it and it became a comforting background noise.

But sleep this deep causes me to not remember my dreams quite as well as I usually do; I guess I sleep right through them! But when I do remember the dream, it sticks with me for a while. I have my normal pre-sleep routine that I practice every night without fail. As I say my prayers I always ask to not be disturbed by my dreams and to not be given one that I don’t understand. This works for me most of the time and I have gotten well practiced in using them to solve problems. Then right in the middle of everything great, I get an old fashioned visit!

His first visit was only a couple of days after he died. Physically it wasn’t him, but one look in his eyes and I knew exactly who he was. It was great! I understood that he was fine, and while I still missed him dearly, I no longer worried for him. Thanks. I had one more in the next few days and then he was gone; question and answer session over. I understand that if you told me everything you would have to kill me, so I appreciate what you give. Last night was great because I didn’t ask for it and I didn’t expect it. Everybody loves a good surprise! I wish I could still scratch your belly every night like I used to, but I’ll take what I get. Come by anytime, I’ll leave the light on.

Good Morning

I dropped my daughter off at the high school this morning and after cautiously navigating the parking lot crowded with our newest fleet of drivers, I headed for the main highway. It is interesting to watch a crowd of sixteen year olds park every morning, and to say that I am extra careful is an understatement. I shudder to think that in little more than a year my daughter will be one of them, but what do you do? I will add that after leaving the high school I have to merge with the college drivers leaving the student housing, so there are a few minutes of breath holding before I reach the main road.

This morning was typical; I left the parking lot and just before I reached the highway a car from the student housing jumped out in front of me. There was no mistaking that this was a student. His car was basically a collegiate uniform item; A Subaru with a ski rack on top and bumper stickers and decals literally blacking out the back glass. He supported peace of all types and was in love with several bands with names so random and irrelevant I had to move my lips to read them. I thought for a second I was in Athens, but when I noticed the lack of dents in the car, I knew I was not. Still I kept my distance.

As we approached the red light I decided to move a little closer so I could read some of the smaller decals. While I’ve never been the type to apply bumper stickers to my own vehicle, I do love to read them on other cars. Maybe I’ve never loved anything quite that much, but I always worried that I would end up with something like “I’d rather be collecting stamps” or “Hello, my probation officer’s name is…” Something stupid and dated. But as I got closer I noticed a decal that took my breath. It was one that my little brother and I used to tag things (Ok, now the call it graffiti) with thirty years ago! We invented it I’m sure, and the fact that it made absolutely no sense made it even better! Stop, thief!

Well I got over that emotion pretty quickly and just headed home. I’d love to think that someone saw this “ornamentation” a few years back and thought it was as cool as we did. Maybe they’ve had it in their head after a trip to Jacksonville Beach more than a few years back, or maybe they just thought of it themselves…who knows. Hell, we may have stolen it ourselves! Either way, I like to think that my brother just told me good morning! Good morning to you too.

Big Memories

We had a chance yesterday to visit the first place my daughter called home. The first placed she lived when we brought the tiny six pound bundle home from the hospital almost fifteen years ago. Her first home and the first real home my wife and I owned together. We rented one when we were first married, and we bought a singlewide trailer to live in while we built this house, but this was our first real home as a family. Even though my daughter was three years old when we moved away, she doesn’t remember living there, at all; I hoped the visit would make something click.

My wife and I hadn’t been there in almost twelve years, so we were excited to visit as well. This is an unusual home in that it was built in an old fashioned way. I touched every board and nail while building it, and really the only thing we hired a subcontractor to do was dig the septic tank. Everything is so specialized and regulated today I’m not sure this is even possible to do anymore, and when I think about the work involved, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea anyway. Toward the end of construction I was beginning to think that I would be buried beside the home instead of ever hanging my clothes in the closet!

Well it didn’t jog any memories in my daughter, but it was certainly memory overload for my wife and me. Of course a few things had been changed, but it was mostly just like we left it; put our stuff back in and we wouldn’t miss a beat. But what seems so weird is that while I remember what it looks like, I couldn’t tap in at all to actually doing any of the work. I couldn’t remember why I had done some of the things I did; it felt like somebody else had done the work. Maybe if I had realized just how much work it was going to be I would have never attempted it in the first place! Kind of like closing your eyes and holding your breath before you jump in the lake. Downplay the effort to be able to complete (or at least begin) the task!

We were kind of quiet on the ride home. I could sense my wife’s mind was racing in all directions like mine was, and I think neither of us wanted to talk. But just before we made it back to our current home she said to no one in particular, “seems smaller doesn’t it?” I just mumbled an “uh huh” or something, but I knew what she meant. Our memories of things make them larger than life. Those mansions our grandparents lived in turn out to be regular little houses; those beautiful motels we vacationed in are now small and dated and that outstanding dinner at a faraway restaurant is simply a meal. Maybe we should not re-visit these places; maybe we should just enjoy the memories in their distorted fashion. Either way, I think this is simply proof that truly loving something makes it large!

Represent!

I love Facebook. I have really enjoyed catching up with some old friends over the last couple of years, and I have made some new ones as well. I guess the biggest surprise was just how funny and articulate some of my friends are. I don’t mean to sound surprised…but I guess I am. One of things I almost never do on Facebook is open a link that takes me somewhere else. Yes, I would like to know the identity of the people looking at my page, and I do wonder what happened to the girl that was driving while texting, but I won’t risk opening the (probably virus infected) link. I broke my rule this morning.

When I saw that the link for “Toddlers and Tiaras: A dollar make me Hollar” was filmed in McIntyre Georgia, I had to take a look. All I can say is you can’t put the genie back in the bottle; Elvis has left the building! I had to laugh even though I see people just like this every day. And yes, there are times when I fit right in with them. Sometimes when we are sitting around the house one of us will say something “extra Southern” and we’ll all belly laugh. You know, laugh and look around to be sure nobody is filming! No reason to give those that live a few miles north any more reasons to think we’re all stupid down here.

But why is it that a person that has a Boston accent so thick that only their mother can understand them doesn’t sound stupid? They just don’t. Maybe it’s the same phenomenon as when you hear your own voice on tape…is that what I sound like? I don’t know, but it sure seems like every time a UFO is spotted in the south it chooses to hover over a trailer park? When a natural disaster occurs here the media doesn’t interview the people that live in a gated community, they go for the “representatives”. Like the guy in an Atlanta mobile mansion community that was interviewed after a tornado hit a few summers back, “Hell, these folks ain’t got nothing and they lost that”. What?

I will say that I’m proud of who I am and where I’m from. I’ve traveled around enough to know that there are “characters” in every town and country whether the cameras find them or not. But maybe…just maybe, we should pretend we are giving a book report in front of the class when the camera is pointed our way? Pretend we are saying a few words at an awards ceremony…a funeral? Or maybe we should just be ourselves; the south is crowded enough already!