Jim Headlines
It appears they have a phobia for everything.
Not too long ago, by good friend and learned colleague, Dan Brown, discussed in some detail a few of the phobias that plague him. Heights and depths, I believe were his nemeses.
Not too long ago, by good friend and learned colleague, Dan Brown, discussed in some detail a few of the phobias that plague him. Heights and depths, I believe were his nemeses.
After quite a few years behind the wheel, my aunt still hugs the side of the road. It’s a habit ingrained in her at an early age by her first driving instructor, my dad.
“I wish he’d never done that,” my uncle sighs from the passenger seat, even as he is counting the paint pigment dots in the side of the mailbox flashing by just inches away from his window.
“I wish he’d never done that,” my uncle sighs from the passenger seat, even as he is counting the paint pigment dots in the side of the mailbox flashing by just inches away from his window.
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 -- if they’re doing anything at all. I mean, somehow I doubt they’re going a-wassailing in, say, Botswana this year.
Or are they?
Or are they?
It’s another holiday season, replete with family gatherings, catch-up sessions with people I haven’t seen in awhile, and miserable attempts to recognize children of said people I haven’t seen.
It’s weird, this process of aging through the children of my siblings, relatives, and friends. I’m starting to understand why my mother tends to call my brother and I several different names before landing on the right one. I’m not quite there yet, but I do find it strange that I no longer recognize most of the next generation well enough to immediately place names and faces. They’re all, for the most part, young adults. The newer babies are now in middle school. And if I ran into them on the street, I wouldn’t be able to tell whom they were to save my life.
It’s weird, this process of aging through the children of my siblings, relatives, and friends. I’m starting to understand why my mother tends to call my brother and I several different names before landing on the right one. I’m not quite there yet, but I do find it strange that I no longer recognize most of the next generation well enough to immediately place names and faces. They’re all, for the most part, young adults. The newer babies are now in middle school. And if I ran into them on the street, I wouldn’t be able to tell whom they were to save my life.
Remember that song, "I'm Gettin' Nuthin' for Christmas?"
It was one of those silly kids' songs about that one kid who is constantly in trouble, dancing on his momma's flower beds, pinching his sister in church, buying gum with a penny slug and other such activities considered to be truly heinous transgressions in the 1950s.
It was one of those silly kids' songs about that one kid who is constantly in trouble, dancing on his momma's flower beds, pinching his sister in church, buying gum with a penny slug and other such activities considered to be truly heinous transgressions in the 1950s.
I used to not worry a whole lot about retirement. I figured I’d probably be dead before then, anyway. Since I currently can’t get full Social Security Benefits until 72, and it appears the only people contributing to the system are six high school kids pursuing careers in the fast food industry, chances are they will raise the age limit again.
Maybe if I live to be 96 I might be able to finally see those mythical dimes and nickels the feds have been defrauding, uh, I mean saving, for me, at last.
Maybe if I live to be 96 I might be able to finally see those mythical dimes and nickels the feds have been defrauding, uh, I mean saving, for me, at last.
With all the insanity swirling about these days, I think it behooves all of us to do what I do whenever I have the time and spare change.
Forget about it all for a couple of hours and go play golf.
Forget about it all for a couple of hours and go play golf.
So the day before Halloween I walked into the drug store. I was looking for Halloween candy; they had none.
They did, however, have the store decked out for Christmas, right down to the 10-foot tall rubber Santa, the one that makes little kids cry the second they lay eyes on it, and the blaring Muzak Christmas carols.
They did, however, have the store decked out for Christmas, right down to the 10-foot tall rubber Santa, the one that makes little kids cry the second they lay eyes on it, and the blaring Muzak Christmas carols.
This recently came to me in email from a fellow musician and soundman extraordinaire, a veteran of the club circuit as well as the national tours.
So last week my good friend and learned colleague, the intrepid Dan Brown, announced he will spend the night at the famous Wampeii House in Pinopolis.
Alone.
Alone.
I have written much about beloved pets over the years. I pretty much love all critters --even the ones I eat.
But what about the other side?
But what about the other side?
On rare occasions, I am dumb enough to get into political discussions. On even rarer occasions, someone will ask me why I don’t run for office. After all, a beer or two later, I seem to have all the answers.
Generally, I laugh and say, “You wouldn’t want that.”
Generally, I laugh and say, “You wouldn’t want that.”
I don’t usually get into writing about economics or politics, largely because the one baffles me and the other disgusts me.
But even a poor old scribbler like me can see a monstrous case of political Encopresis when I see it.
But even a poor old scribbler like me can see a monstrous case of political Encopresis when I see it.
Occasionally, I wonder how I ever survived to be as old as I am now. And I’m really not that old.
From nearly decapitating myself with a toy cymbal to field testing a homemade parachute from the garage roof, it’s a wonder I didn’t wind up a very dull fellow.
From nearly decapitating myself with a toy cymbal to field testing a homemade parachute from the garage roof, it’s a wonder I didn’t wind up a very dull fellow.
I feel a mid-life crisis coming on.
No; it’s not nearly as simple as that.
No; it’s not nearly as simple as that.
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 had fairly active 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 had fairly active 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.
So you may have seen my Beloved and I not too long ago walking the streets of this fair city.
Or maybe not; it was Sunday and everyone else was in church.
Or maybe not; it was Sunday and everyone else was in church.
By the end of last weekend, Monday actually, every appendage of my body was sore. Even my hair hurt. I’m getting too old for this.
It actually took 10 trips with a trailer loaded to the gills to get our stuff out of the house and into storage. We filled up one storage bin and the rest of a large garage. When I left, my Beloved was still moving odds and ends.
It actually took 10 trips with a trailer loaded to the gills to get our stuff out of the house and into storage. We filled up one storage bin and the rest of a large garage. When I left, my Beloved was still moving odds and ends.
Is your life boring? Are you foolishly content? Want to test the strength of the ties that bind, the elasticity of your patience, the extent of your very sanity?
One word: Move. It’s all that, and it’s slightly safer than, say, going out and inviting meaningless death by randomly taunting psychopaths during rush hour.
One word: Move. It’s all that, and it’s slightly safer than, say, going out and inviting meaningless death by randomly taunting psychopaths during rush hour.
I know I'm a lucky man. The luckiest: my wife obviously loves me. Why else would she put up with me?
Right now, we are in the throes of moving down here – I’ve been on the job about three weeks and we’re looking forward to being settled full time, but at the moment, life is distracting, to put it mildly.
Right now, we are in the throes of moving down here – I’ve been on the job about three weeks and we’re looking forward to being settled full time, but at the moment, life is distracting, to put it mildly.
Ah, the flora and fauna of the Lowcountry!
I had forgotten the splendor and beauty of some of God’s creatures. The egrets … the deer … the gators … the saddle bred roaches … the endless battalions of sugar ants marching across the kitchen floor.
I had forgotten the splendor and beauty of some of God’s creatures. The egrets … the deer … the gators … the saddle bred roaches … the endless battalions of sugar ants marching across the kitchen floor.
“Well I just blew into town about an hour ago; took a look around see which way the wind blows …” – Jim Morrison
So once again, I find myself back in the Lowcountry, a situation I keep repeating about every 3-5 years. This is good; I love the Lowcountry.
So once again, I find myself back in the Lowcountry, a situation I keep repeating about every 3-5 years. This is good; I love the Lowcountry.
