UPDATE DECEMBER
18
Only
6 more days to shop; some of us are
finished; don’t fight the lines unless you absolutely know what they want; if
you’re still struggling, give them cash or gift certificates and let them
fight the lines; they’re going to take back any clothing you give them anyhow
– and they’re going to the stores regardless; my father said it’s the same
gene you find in homing pigeons and lemmings; they can’t help themselves.
In 50 years of marriage, he never went shopping with my mother.
COMMITMENTS
Casey Gibson, P,SS, FL Tropic Wave, signed with
USA Softball has now provided a more detailed schedule for
the USA Women’s National Team, as it prepares for the 2004 Olympics in
A STORY
APPROPRIATE TO THE TIMES
Tonight, Tom Brokaw closed off with an admonition to all those people going to Christmas parties – and drinking and driving. So, it seems timely to remind our young people, whether they drink or not, to slow down. While considering that thought, I found this email from reader Patricia Hale on my computer. Worth reading.
Jack took a long look at his speedometer
before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone. Fourth time in as many months. How
could a guy get caught so often? When his car had slowed to 10 miles an
hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry
about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his
backside with a mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in
hand. Bob? Bob from Church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat.
This was worse than the coming ticket.
A cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little
eager to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to
play golf with tomorrow.
Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd
never seen in uniform. "Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."
"Hello, Jack." No smile.
"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and
kids." "Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the
rules a bit -just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement.
"Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight.
Know what I mean?" "I know what you mean. I also know that you
have a reputation in our precinct." Ouch. This was not going in
the right direction. Time to change tactics. "What'd you clock
me at?"
"Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?" "Now wait
a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely nudging
65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
"Please, Jack, in the car." Flustered, Jack hunched himself
through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard.
He was in no rush to open the window. The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled
away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?
Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays
before Jack ever sat near this cop again. A tap on the door jerked his head
to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand Jack rolled down the
window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the
slip. "Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his
voice. Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched
his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was
this one going to cost? Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of
joke? Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read: "Dear Jack, Once
upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when she was
killed by a car. You guessed it-a speeding driver. A fine and three months
in jail, and the man was free. Free! to hug his daughters All three of them.
I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until Heaven before I can
ever hug her again. A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand
times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now.
Pray for me. And be careful, Jack, my son is all I have left."
"Bob"
Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the
road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he too,
pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging
a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.
Life is precious. Handle with care. This is an important message; please
pass it along to your friends. Drive safely and carefully. Remember, cars are
not the only things recalled by their maker.
Funny how you can send a thousand jokes' through e-mail and they spread
like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the sanctity
of life, people think twice about sharing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May today there be peace within you. May you trust God that you are exactly
where you are meant to be. "I believe that friends are quiet angels
who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to
fly."
THE MOST LONELY
VIGIL
Young people think they are invincible.
Their parents know they are not. For
every girl or boy rushing down the road, there is a parent who doesn’t sleep
until they are safe at home. Goes
with the turf. The most unnatural
act of all, Rose Kennedy once said, is to bury your young.
Tonight, a reader asked why I publish these stories, like the two girls
killed this past week. The simple
answer is that I know the pain. My
brother Phillip and I were hell raisers. I
was learning to fly when my contemporaries were trying to distinguish between
the clutch and brake pedals. My
father was overwhelmed, I was later told, when he heard that men had taken bets
on whether I would live to 21. He
was so afraid I would have a serious accident, and one night I did – a drunk
hit the Jeepster head-on and I sailed through the canvas top.
I was also told later that the sheriff, my father’s close friend, vowed
the sot would never leave the drunk tank alive if I died.
I got the usual lectures, particularly after one spectacular speeding
incident. But, it didn’t change my
lifestyle very much. He also feared
my adult lifestyle, but I didn’t know that until he died.
I used to call him before I would leave the country, and when I returned,
because we were close. When he
passed away, a
MORE ON
RECRUITING
A Parenting Lesson.
I truly enjoyed reading the articles regarding college
recruitment and the pushing that goes on between parents and coaches. As a
parent/coach, I pushed my daughter from an early age to become a pitcher in
order to obtain the elusive college scholarship. We went the standard route, she
played 18 A at 14, proceeded to Gold with a domineering Gold coach, hit the
exposure tournaments, in short: my daughter did everything that was asked of
her. When she was a junior in high school, her Mom, not a big softball
supporter, took her on a visit to the University of (blank), upon which my
daughter became enamored of. Needless to say, when we started getting calls from
other schools, the look on my daughters face at the prospect of having to go to
a school which was not her first choice was disturbing. She had sent a skills
tape to (blank), but the coach left and the new coach had other players in mind.
Knowing that she would not play in (blank), she decided that was want she wanted
to do and it was the best thing for her.It was tough on me, but after all she
did I could not force her to go to a school she was not going to enjoy just
because of softball. I think I learned too late that the important thing
was going to college, not getting caught up in getting recruited at the expense
of our children's happiness.
YOU CAN’T
AFFORD TO LIVE TO 2030
And the children you have now had better start working two jobs.
Economists predict that, in the year 2030:
n a ticket to a baseball game will cost $146
n today’s $50 bag of groceries will cost $111
n your $140 prescription drug bill will cost $979
n dinner and a movie will rock you for $130
n a $21,000 Camry will cost $34,000
n a $200,000 house today will cost $1 million
And, so on. On the other hand, my two Redskins season tickets cost $160 four years ago; next year, those same two tickets go up to $420 per game. There were three games this year I couldn’t sell, and no takers yet for next year. Big salaries are a factor; the huge payroll for non-playing personnel is a factor; but the biggest problem is that little ego maniac who owns the team and his lavish life style. And, it’s a lousy team.
OTTO, YOU
DESERVED BETTER
Along with Johnny Unitas and Joe Montana, Otto Graham was chosen one of the quarterbacks on the honorary team named by the NFL on its 75th anniversary. And, deservedly so. Graham led the Cleveland Browns to the championship game in each of his 10 years – and won the title 7 times. I was appalled that the TV reports showed Otto as a man of 82 – shrunken, aged, and all that. Even the Washington Post ran that picture, although it did run a grainy photo of Otto scurrying into the end zone. Who rated him the best? Other pro quarterbacks of his day like Sammy Baugh.
OUR CHANGING
MORES
Jeanne Crain died this past week, and more than one generation of movie goers have matured since she last worked. Her most memorable role: Pinky. Jeanne played a young woman who was of mixed parentage, ie, black and white, or what some used to call a mulatto. Daring role for those days, and Jeanne took some criticism. There were still states which had laws against miscegenation. Sadly, more than one black man was beaten or even killed for daring to consort with a white woman.
Now, we learn that Strom Thurmond impregnated a colored servant girl – and lo these many years, he financially supported Ms. Williams who kept his secret. One of the stalwarts of the Old South, whose constituents would have sworn he was a segregationist to his core. Turns out old Strom had a gentle streak beneath all that oratory.
But, he liked the ladies. Still siring children late in life, at an age when a lot of men look forward to just having a good bowel movement.
My reaction as a scion of the old South?
I sent a message to a close friend in