Jim Headlines
It’s interesting the way we perceive our animals, especially pets, these days.
I am not making fun of anyone – My Beloved and I absolutely spoil our dogs shamelessly. But this is a little odd, because I don’t think either of us was raised that way.
I am not making fun of anyone – My Beloved and I absolutely spoil our dogs shamelessly. But this is a little odd, because I don’t think either of us was raised that way.
If you grew up with me, then you probably lived through, or were part of, a number of insanely stupid mishaps, from a goose egg in the noggin after taking a direct hit from a bottle rocket, point blank, to falling out of trees, ripping clothes and skin on barbed wire fences, various and sundry bike wrecks and skateboard disasters, and a host of other brilliant moments that, mercifully, I can't really remember any more.?What I do know, and have known for some time, is that I am accident prone, particularly around mechanical or electrical things. Several years ago, the guys in my band started calling me “Chief Black Cloud” because of my inherent ability to wreak havoc on electronics. Microphones would squeal, jump cords would get crimps, amplifiers would smoke, guitars would fall out of their stands, if I so much as came within 15 feet of them.?That still hasn't changed much. I don't know how many guitar jacks I've shredded by stepping on the guitar chord while playing at top volume.?So I ought to know by now not to press my luck, especially when it comes to driving and, well, anything else.?Yet here I sit, staring at the computer screen, a bloody napkin dangling from my lower lip, hoping like the very devil that I'm going to stop bleeding before my 11:45 appointment.
For those of you who don’t know about this curse I am under, or are just vaguely familiar with my many brushes with death via stupidity – or maybe brushes with stupid via near death – here’s a new one for the books. Not really life threatening, per se, but if someone walks in here, I'll probably die from embarrassment from the spectacle alone, much less the ensuing explanation of why I am sporting a red and white Burger King napkin from my kisser.?Like so many of the bizarre happenstances through which I’ve lived, this little mishap started in the car. It was innocent enough; I was trying to open a package of gum, the kind in which the individual gum pieces are packaged in these annoying aluminum foil flats. You have to push the gum through each compartment, which makes a neat little foil split. I’m doing this while at the same time keeping an eye on the pedestrians on the sidewalks on either side of the busy highway, noting a distant crosswalk approaching, and balancing a tepid cup of coffee between my knees.?So as I carefully ease up to a red light and crosswalk, slowing my vehicle to an ever so ginger and manageable crawl, I finally pop a piece of gum out of the package. Feeling it slip down my lips, I try to shove it back to my mouth so as not to have a wad of gum and a tepid cup of coffee between my knees. I take a sort of slurping bite, feel the flesh of lower lip splitting, as though sliced cleanly in half by, well, a jagged piece of aluminum foil. Take a chomp of the gum to get it out of the way. Taste peppermint and blood. Mmmm.?Twenty minutes later, I’m still bleeding. My trashcan now contains five wet paper towels the exact color of Pepto Bismol, which is what you get when you mix ice cubes and a copious amount of drool with a clean, white paper product and blood.? I can't even say, “You think this is bad; you ought to see the other guy!”?The other guy is lying on the passenger side floorboard of my car and the only blood showing on him is mine.?The good news is, I didn’t spill the coffee. And none of the old people, handicapped folks in wheelchairs and walkers, drunken Tour de France riders, toddlers smoking cigarettes and taking their first steps, and baby ducks waddling through the crosswalk ever came close to becoming another decal on the fuselage of the Mighty Mighty Element.?And it’s only Monday morning. I think I’ll go crawl under the bed and assume the fetal position for awhile.
For those of you who don’t know about this curse I am under, or are just vaguely familiar with my many brushes with death via stupidity – or maybe brushes with stupid via near death – here’s a new one for the books. Not really life threatening, per se, but if someone walks in here, I'll probably die from embarrassment from the spectacle alone, much less the ensuing explanation of why I am sporting a red and white Burger King napkin from my kisser.?Like so many of the bizarre happenstances through which I’ve lived, this little mishap started in the car. It was innocent enough; I was trying to open a package of gum, the kind in which the individual gum pieces are packaged in these annoying aluminum foil flats. You have to push the gum through each compartment, which makes a neat little foil split. I’m doing this while at the same time keeping an eye on the pedestrians on the sidewalks on either side of the busy highway, noting a distant crosswalk approaching, and balancing a tepid cup of coffee between my knees.?So as I carefully ease up to a red light and crosswalk, slowing my vehicle to an ever so ginger and manageable crawl, I finally pop a piece of gum out of the package. Feeling it slip down my lips, I try to shove it back to my mouth so as not to have a wad of gum and a tepid cup of coffee between my knees. I take a sort of slurping bite, feel the flesh of lower lip splitting, as though sliced cleanly in half by, well, a jagged piece of aluminum foil. Take a chomp of the gum to get it out of the way. Taste peppermint and blood. Mmmm.?Twenty minutes later, I’m still bleeding. My trashcan now contains five wet paper towels the exact color of Pepto Bismol, which is what you get when you mix ice cubes and a copious amount of drool with a clean, white paper product and blood.? I can't even say, “You think this is bad; you ought to see the other guy!”?The other guy is lying on the passenger side floorboard of my car and the only blood showing on him is mine.?The good news is, I didn’t spill the coffee. And none of the old people, handicapped folks in wheelchairs and walkers, drunken Tour de France riders, toddlers smoking cigarettes and taking their first steps, and baby ducks waddling through the crosswalk ever came close to becoming another decal on the fuselage of the Mighty Mighty Element.?And it’s only Monday morning. I think I’ll go crawl under the bed and assume the fetal position for awhile.
If I were a bit more of a religious man, I might be seriously worrying about the end of the world. But, no, I think we're just circling the drain a little faster, that's all.?All one has to do is turn on the TV to get a good dose of end-of-days paranoia. Terrorists on every street corner. New diseases being discovered every day. Old diseases being resurrected. Children killing parents. Parents killing children. People marrying their pets. Lawyers, guns and money. Reality TV, MTV, Deadbeat TV, Court TV, Dumb TV. War, pestilence and the right to pitch a tantrum anywhere there is an appalled public to witness it. Film at nine, Brian.
Way too much TV, methinks …?The days of doing business on a handshake seem to be long gone, to be replaced by a contract that contains more pages than Churchill’s “History of the English Speaking Peoples.” We demand explanations, then play dumb when we know better. We want information, but don’t know what to do with it. We’ve been taught that we don’t have to “take that” from anyone, yet life is full of “that,” and much of living life, in fact, is all about how we manage “that.”?It occurs to me that for many the ultimate goal is to position ourselves to be able to say “kiss off,” and other such sentiments to people and institutions who loom higher in our daily lives than we believe they should. The sentiment is well-summed up by Bill Murray’s sleazy championship bowler character in the movie “King Pin,” when he ?wins the $2 million dollar National Bowling Championship – “Woohoo! At last, Big Ernie is completely above the law!”?My personal goals? To be an island. To be answerable only to me. To need no one or nothing, to be left well enough alone. Rules shall not apply to me, and the enforcement thereof shall be practiced elsewhere, on pain of serious retribution against anyone who would attempt to do otherwise.?Failing that, a cabin in the mountains would be nice, someday.?In other words, I, like everyone else, am pretty comfortable with my God complex. Yet at the same time, I’m cognizant -- and only slightly angry and/or wistful -- that most of these are unreachable and unreasonable ambitions.?But the messages we get bombarded with sell exactly that -- teenage fantasy disguised as inherent rights -- and they are so common and so frequent they become nearly subliminal. Television commercials constantly bash parents, bash institutions, bash honesty, bash basic goodness. Inexperienced, Id-driven children are always right and parents are so ?woefully wrong as to be completely negligible.?Don’t believe me? Watch five minutes of commercials without cutting down the volume, getting up for a beer, or surfing channels. ?The people responsible for these abominations should be severely caned.?Then there’s the weather. Hurricanes and tornadoes and earthquakes and floods all lined up and ready to flush us right out to sea.?Add a Byzantine, unending mess in places like the Middle East and a thousand other little ?diplomatic nightmares and the world becomes scarier every moment. No wonder we continue to advance democracy at gunpoint.
Way too much TV, methinks …?The days of doing business on a handshake seem to be long gone, to be replaced by a contract that contains more pages than Churchill’s “History of the English Speaking Peoples.” We demand explanations, then play dumb when we know better. We want information, but don’t know what to do with it. We’ve been taught that we don’t have to “take that” from anyone, yet life is full of “that,” and much of living life, in fact, is all about how we manage “that.”?It occurs to me that for many the ultimate goal is to position ourselves to be able to say “kiss off,” and other such sentiments to people and institutions who loom higher in our daily lives than we believe they should. The sentiment is well-summed up by Bill Murray’s sleazy championship bowler character in the movie “King Pin,” when he ?wins the $2 million dollar National Bowling Championship – “Woohoo! At last, Big Ernie is completely above the law!”?My personal goals? To be an island. To be answerable only to me. To need no one or nothing, to be left well enough alone. Rules shall not apply to me, and the enforcement thereof shall be practiced elsewhere, on pain of serious retribution against anyone who would attempt to do otherwise.?Failing that, a cabin in the mountains would be nice, someday.?In other words, I, like everyone else, am pretty comfortable with my God complex. Yet at the same time, I’m cognizant -- and only slightly angry and/or wistful -- that most of these are unreachable and unreasonable ambitions.?But the messages we get bombarded with sell exactly that -- teenage fantasy disguised as inherent rights -- and they are so common and so frequent they become nearly subliminal. Television commercials constantly bash parents, bash institutions, bash honesty, bash basic goodness. Inexperienced, Id-driven children are always right and parents are so ?woefully wrong as to be completely negligible.?Don’t believe me? Watch five minutes of commercials without cutting down the volume, getting up for a beer, or surfing channels. ?The people responsible for these abominations should be severely caned.?Then there’s the weather. Hurricanes and tornadoes and earthquakes and floods all lined up and ready to flush us right out to sea.?Add a Byzantine, unending mess in places like the Middle East and a thousand other little ?diplomatic nightmares and the world becomes scarier every moment. No wonder we continue to advance democracy at gunpoint.
I don’t know what the psychological term for it is, but we all do it. It’s that condition where you start singing a song everyone knows in theory but you hopelessly botch the lyrics because you’ve heard them in your head that way for so long.
The classic illustration is that scene in the movie “Naked Gun,” where the late great Leslie Nielsen is trying to impersonate a famous opera singer and has to sing the granddaddy of all songs everyone loves but no one knows how to sing: “The Star Spangled Banner.”
The classic illustration is that scene in the movie “Naked Gun,” where the late great Leslie Nielsen is trying to impersonate a famous opera singer and has to sing the granddaddy of all songs everyone loves but no one knows how to sing: “The Star Spangled Banner.”
Hello, my name is Jim and I’m a hypochondriac.
I can’t help it; if there’s some dread disease out there, I’ve probably had it. At least, I’ve stayed up nights convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that I had it. Never mind that I refuse to see the doctor about it. I mean, why should I? She’s only going to tell me what I already know: I’m doomed.
I can’t help it; if there’s some dread disease out there, I’ve probably had it. At least, I’ve stayed up nights convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that I had it. Never mind that I refuse to see the doctor about it. I mean, why should I? She’s only going to tell me what I already know: I’m doomed.
Well, we made it back.
My Beloved and I and our two four-legged children just got back from several days in the North Carolina mountains, right in the heart of the Yadkin Valley wine country, and within easy striking distance of everything from the Blue Ridge Parkway to the town of Mayberry – or rather, its inspiration.
My Beloved and I and our two four-legged children just got back from several days in the North Carolina mountains, right in the heart of the Yadkin Valley wine country, and within easy striking distance of everything from the Blue Ridge Parkway to the town of Mayberry – or rather, its inspiration.
There’s an old proverb that goes something like this: “Do not walk behind me; I shall not lead. Do not walk in front of me; I shall not follow.”
I will add the following missive to that proverb: “Do not walk beside me, either, for that matter. Just stay away and leave me the h*ll alone, already.”
I will add the following missive to that proverb: “Do not walk beside me, either, for that matter. Just stay away and leave me the h*ll alone, already.”
Ah, holiday travel!
During this, our Easter weekend, it seemed I heard a lot about things like hope and glory, the renewal of life and the triumph of good over evil.
During this, our Easter weekend, it seemed I heard a lot about things like hope and glory, the renewal of life and the triumph of good over evil.
My cousin recently found out he is going to be a father for the first time.
When he told his family about the upcoming blessed event, three of his five siblings asked him if this was planned.
When he told his family about the upcoming blessed event, three of his five siblings asked him if this was planned.
Recently, I started working with a musical side project, a wedding reception band.
A sell out, you say? Hardly. Age brings many rewards, but the ability to stay up all night long is not one of them. A wedding band is a logical semi-retirement from the bar circuit.
A sell out, you say? Hardly. Age brings many rewards, but the ability to stay up all night long is not one of them. A wedding band is a logical semi-retirement from the bar circuit.
I’ve quite decided that I’m going to become one of those life coach guru types. They’re making a killing these days. Surely I can swindle, uh, coach my way to fame and fortune.
It’s all about getting ahead, right?
It’s all about getting ahead, right?
I hope this never happens to you.
There’s this old, rickety, wooden-planked swing bridge, see, and it’s going across a huge flooded river – I see it at the bottom of this steep, endless hill. Looks like two or three big alligators on the right and a barge full of laughing clowns right behind them.
There’s this old, rickety, wooden-planked swing bridge, see, and it’s going across a huge flooded river – I see it at the bottom of this steep, endless hill. Looks like two or three big alligators on the right and a barge full of laughing clowns right behind them.
So lately we’ve been hearing a lot of cheery news. The economy is turning around. The crime rate is dropping. Retail sales are rising. Houses are selling. Prosperity is just around the corner.
Flying monkeys are desperately trying to launch themselves headlong into space from my ...
Flying monkeys are desperately trying to launch themselves headlong into space from my ...
I’m discovering a lot of things about lower middle age I’m not embracing too gracefully.
I don’t like having to carry a pair of reading cheaters everywhere I go, but the alternative is stand 15 feet away from everything I read.
I don’t like having to carry a pair of reading cheaters everywhere I go, but the alternative is stand 15 feet away from everything I read.
By the time you read this, Christmas is gone and New Year’s is rapidly approaching.
It’s been a long time since I have done anything major on New Year’s Eve. In fact, I probably haven’t been to a New Year’s Eve Party in more than a decade and certainly haven’t done a blithering, squint-faced debauch-a-thon since I was in my roaring 20s.
It’s been a long time since I have done anything major on New Year’s Eve. In fact, I probably haven’t been to a New Year’s Eve Party in more than a decade and certainly haven’t done a blithering, squint-faced debauch-a-thon since I was in my roaring 20s.
Once again, I have to ask the question that has bothered me since childhood: is the Fat Guy Who Gives really on the job?
I must admit, I've always been a little skeptical of everything, which may be why I’m a journalist as well as a jerk. But even as a kid, I often wondered if the Fat Guy Who Gives really did give that much of a reindeer’s rear end about what the bad kids of the world did.
I must admit, I've always been a little skeptical of everything, which may be why I’m a journalist as well as a jerk. But even as a kid, I often wondered if the Fat Guy Who Gives really did give that much of a reindeer’s rear end about what the bad kids of the world did.
I used to see those people who catered shamelessly to their dogs and snidely chuckle into my sleeve.
My first experience with such a pathetic creature happened when I was but a runny-nosed urchin of seven. My dog, Marty, was my best friend and a wonderful addition to our family – but she hated other dogs. The day she charged out of the garage and chomped the preciously clipped and ribbon festooned tail of a toy poodle being walked by a prissy and elderly owner became an immediate object lesson. First, the old bat threatened to sue us for all we ever had and would have in this world. Then she went on to wail about her mental anguish, as her baby, “Poopsie,” had to spend its birthday in the vet’s office getting stitches on the end of its tail.
My first experience with such a pathetic creature happened when I was but a runny-nosed urchin of seven. My dog, Marty, was my best friend and a wonderful addition to our family – but she hated other dogs. The day she charged out of the garage and chomped the preciously clipped and ribbon festooned tail of a toy poodle being walked by a prissy and elderly owner became an immediate object lesson. First, the old bat threatened to sue us for all we ever had and would have in this world. Then she went on to wail about her mental anguish, as her baby, “Poopsie,” had to spend its birthday in the vet’s office getting stitches on the end of its tail.
OK, so with all the Christmas hustle going on around here, I thought it would be fun to see what folks might be doing around the world.
In order to find the very best, freshest, and most accurate information possible, I spent well over 15 minutes on the Internet, because I care.
In order to find the very best, freshest, and most accurate information possible, I spent well over 15 minutes on the Internet, because I care.
“History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of man…” Blue Oyster Cult, “Godzilla”
So I read where authorities are searching for a radioactive mouse near Hanford, Washington. Apparently while cleaning the old plutonium bomb plant in that area workers came across animal droppings that turned out to be radioactive.
So I read where authorities are searching for a radioactive mouse near Hanford, Washington. Apparently while cleaning the old plutonium bomb plant in that area workers came across animal droppings that turned out to be radioactive.
So here we are, about a week after one of the weirdest election cycles of all time. The optimist in me says, “Oh, look! The people are waking up and realizing they do have the power after all.”
Of course, then the ghost of H. L. Mencken returns and points out that this very turnout is in and of itself a strong argument against Democracy.
Of course, then the ghost of H. L. Mencken returns and points out that this very turnout is in and of itself a strong argument against Democracy.
Wow. After plowing through some 358 emails from all sorts of people around the world, I didn’t realize that so many people really care about me and want to help me find true love, make a personal fortune, and be able to achieve up to four hours at a time of reproductive prowess in one single, fast acting pill. I never knew there were so many caring, compassionate people in the world. Silly me.
Why, just today, I saw that 15 people saw my profile on the Internet and immediately fell head over heels in love with me. Not bad, considering I don’t recall ever putting a profile anywhere on the Internet. And they all are apparently beautiful girls with names like Vanessa and Desiree, who – alas for them! – do not realize I am already married.
Why, just today, I saw that 15 people saw my profile on the Internet and immediately fell head over heels in love with me. Not bad, considering I don’t recall ever putting a profile anywhere on the Internet. And they all are apparently beautiful girls with names like Vanessa and Desiree, who – alas for them! – do not realize I am already married.
So the other day I’m making coffee when I hear something weird. It’s this other-worldly voice, not really moaning, but not really articulating anything, either. As I had enjoyed the better part of a large bottle of Malbec the night before, I dimly wondered if I was having some sort of mild DTs.
In a flash, a better notion hit me, along the lines of, “Why don’t you look out the window and see what it is making that noise, moron.”
In a flash, a better notion hit me, along the lines of, “Why don’t you look out the window and see what it is making that noise, moron.”
I used to think that getting older meant toning down certain aspects of personality.
Yet here I am shopping online – in my spare moments, not on company time, of course – for an electric guitar. Once a musician always a musician, I suppose.
Yet here I am shopping online – in my spare moments, not on company time, of course – for an electric guitar. Once a musician always a musician, I suppose.
Looking for something unique, eclectic, and most of all, a lot of fun to do this weekend?
Take a short road trip over to my hometown of Camden, S.C. for the 14th annual Down-home Carolina Blues Fest.
Take a short road trip over to my hometown of Camden, S.C. for the 14th annual Down-home Carolina Blues Fest.
The Medal of Honor Society’s annual convention is this week.
Some 55 of 87 living recipients of the Medal of Honor, our nation’s highest military decoration for extraordinary valor in our nation’s conflicts, will be in the Lowcountry for the gathering, so if you happen to meet one of them, thank him. He did more for you and me than any of us can possibly know.
Some 55 of 87 living recipients of the Medal of Honor, our nation’s highest military decoration for extraordinary valor in our nation’s conflicts, will be in the Lowcountry for the gathering, so if you happen to meet one of them, thank him. He did more for you and me than any of us can possibly know.
Rock and roll may not save your mortal soul, but if you’re lucky, it might get you a couple of free beers at the end of the night.
The truth is, anyone who thinks the guys in the band have it made have obviously never been in the band. If you’ve ever spent a weekend with six guys in one cheap motel room, if you’ve ever had drunk people get sick on your equipment, if you’ve never spent the evening fending off some idiot who wants to play your guitar – the one you saved two years for and undoubtedly costs more than idiot boy’s car – if you’ve never had the pleasure of dealing with that guy who wants to sit in for the drummer, or, God forbid, “Help ya’ll out and sing a little back up,” then you have no idea what that part of the world is actually like.
The truth is, anyone who thinks the guys in the band have it made have obviously never been in the band. If you’ve ever spent a weekend with six guys in one cheap motel room, if you’ve ever had drunk people get sick on your equipment, if you’ve never spent the evening fending off some idiot who wants to play your guitar – the one you saved two years for and undoubtedly costs more than idiot boy’s car – if you’ve never had the pleasure of dealing with that guy who wants to sit in for the drummer, or, God forbid, “Help ya’ll out and sing a little back up,” then you have no idea what that part of the world is actually like.
I have said it before and will say it again: I am convinced that the Achilles heel in every guy’s vanity lies at the top of his head.
I don’t know what it is about our hair – or lack thereof – that makes us completely lose our minds. Whether we’re talking bad rugs, comb-overs, absurd hats, or over-abundant facial topiary, we go to great lengths to deal with this particular aspect of our appearance.
I don’t know what it is about our hair – or lack thereof – that makes us completely lose our minds. Whether we’re talking bad rugs, comb-overs, absurd hats, or over-abundant facial topiary, we go to great lengths to deal with this particular aspect of our appearance.
Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve noticed that passing years tend to reshape memories. Guys who are still picking bench splinters from their backsides suddenly remember making these clutch plays, homes runs and slam dunks, to the point that they wonder – seriously – why they never went into, say, the NFL after high school instead of getting an insurance license.
Not me. I was the classic Band-O geek and proud of it. Four years in marching band, three summers at band camp. True, we had the requisite stereotype square pegs but our school band was full of rebels – intelligent, creative rebels. True, most of had bad 80s hair and worse sartorial sense, but we were more than capable of raising Cain and keeping him well propped up wherever we went.
Not me. I was the classic Band-O geek and proud of it. Four years in marching band, three summers at band camp. True, we had the requisite stereotype square pegs but our school band was full of rebels – intelligent, creative rebels. True, most of had bad 80s hair and worse sartorial sense, but we were more than capable of raising Cain and keeping him well propped up wherever we went.
As Tom Petty says, the waiting is the hardest part. But sometimes that wait makes the moment of truth that much more delicious.
I had no way of knowing it was going to be such a brutal summer back in April when I first happened upon the website for this quaint cabin in the mountains above Maggie Valley. I only knew we wanted to go somewhere different – and far away – for our vacation/anniversary week, and we wanted to take our furry four-legged children with us. A family holiday, as it were.
I had no way of knowing it was going to be such a brutal summer back in April when I first happened upon the website for this quaint cabin in the mountains above Maggie Valley. I only knew we wanted to go somewhere different – and far away – for our vacation/anniversary week, and we wanted to take our furry four-legged children with us. A family holiday, as it were.
I will be long gone. Out of sight, out of mind, and not a moment too soon.
It’s vacation time, and when it comes to my time off, I’m very old school. Simply stated, I’m not available. To anyone. For any reason. Period.
It’s vacation time, and when it comes to my time off, I’m very old school. Simply stated, I’m not available. To anyone. For any reason. Period.
I’m reading a terrific book, Craig Nelson’s “Rocket Men,” which is the story of the race to the moon.
The irony that strikes me is, I’m really enjoying turning pages in a great big bard-backed 400 something page tome, not squinting at it on a computer screen, Kindle, or smartphone, none of which we could so effortlessly take for granted if it had not been for the Apollo program.
The irony that strikes me is, I’m really enjoying turning pages in a great big bard-backed 400 something page tome, not squinting at it on a computer screen, Kindle, or smartphone, none of which we could so effortlessly take for granted if it had not been for the Apollo program.
Do you ever get the feeling that we are living in a game show?
It’s pretty easy to see, if you think about it. On TV, the tacky Middle American shlubs spin the wheel or press the button or otherwise cavort foolishly in the hopes of winning some grand booby prize. Soon, they wake up with cruddy prizes they can’t afford to keep.
It’s pretty easy to see, if you think about it. On TV, the tacky Middle American shlubs spin the wheel or press the button or otherwise cavort foolishly in the hopes of winning some grand booby prize. Soon, they wake up with cruddy prizes they can’t afford to keep.
The late, great Will Rogers once said that if there were no dogs in heaven, when he died, he wanted to go wherever they were.
Amen, Will. There is no place worthy of the name “Heaven” that would deign to keep our furry friends outside the gates, pearly or otherwise.
Amen, Will. There is no place worthy of the name “Heaven” that would deign to keep our furry friends outside the gates, pearly or otherwise.
I can remember laughing at my niece and nephew not too many years ago.
We had gathered for the holidays at my mother’s house in Camden. The kids were not quite in their teens, but already enjoyed overloaded social lives. This was a couple of years before it became federal law that every person in America above the age of three had to have a cell phone surgically implanted in their faces, the better to talk during movies, concerts, and funeral eulogies. But the days of rotary phones were long gone. No one had those.
We had gathered for the holidays at my mother’s house in Camden. The kids were not quite in their teens, but already enjoyed overloaded social lives. This was a couple of years before it became federal law that every person in America above the age of three had to have a cell phone surgically implanted in their faces, the better to talk during movies, concerts, and funeral eulogies. But the days of rotary phones were long gone. No one had those.
It’s a loaded question, one that, if you live in the Carolinas, you ask yourself quite a bit as a matter of course. Or maybe not, maybe I just ask myself such things as a matter of course because I’m one of those weirdoes who likes to talk to himself.
Nonetheless, I have a difficult time deciding such things. I’m naturally drawn to – and have spent a good portion of my life near – the ocean. I love the waves, the rhythm of the sea, the textured pastels of water and sunlight meeting at world’s end. I love the feeling of warm sand and cool breeze and hot sun and cooling waters. Dolphins at play in the spring and panicked bait fish exploding from turbulent waters in the fall.
Nonetheless, I have a difficult time deciding such things. I’m naturally drawn to – and have spent a good portion of my life near – the ocean. I love the waves, the rhythm of the sea, the textured pastels of water and sunlight meeting at world’s end. I love the feeling of warm sand and cool breeze and hot sun and cooling waters. Dolphins at play in the spring and panicked bait fish exploding from turbulent waters in the fall.
