Party Like It's 2012

Dick Clark celebrated his 40th New Year's Rockin' Eve with us in 2011.  He started the program to give young people an alternative to Guy Lombardo and his orchestra playing Auld Lang Syne. Both programs have been traditions in my family at one time or another. Both men will forever be linked to New Year's Eve. It isn't a bad holiday to have connected to your name.


The new year means new opportunities. We welcome 2012 and all of its many chances to discover new places and meet new people and gain new knowledge. We can laugh harder and love more deeply and embrace more often and think outside the lines and color outside the lines and walk on the grass instead of the sidewalks.

We can wash the colors with the whites and eat dessert first and eat dessert second and eat dessert last. Then we can order dessert guilt-free. We can yell louder at sports events and paint our faces in the team colors and sing along loudly at concerts and play games at the arcade.

The new calendar represents new births and new relationships and new chapters and undiscovered territories. We do not know what to expect but we anticipate its arrival with enthusiasm and arms wide open.

And we bid adieu to 2011 with the understanding that we are better people for having known those we lost in the past year. We hold in high regard those loving influences who will remain forever in our hearts.

Loved ones join us as we are introduced to this new year. Our inner circle of friends and family who enriched 2011 will be by our sides in 2012. Their presence continues to light our paths and their being with us makes the journey richer.

What will the new year bring?  I can hardly wait to find out. Happy New Year !!

Do You Hear What I Hear ?

The music of this holiday season marks the emotions of the celebrations. The tunes help us recall childhood memories. Specific songs instantly take us back to a Christmas long ago or perhaps a recent memory. There are classics by long-gone crooners and new renditions by favorite artists. We all have favorite songs and favorite performers. Each artist's interpretation is as unique as each of our Christmas visions.

Bing Crosby, Barbra Streisand, Rosemary Clooney, Perry Como, Nat King Cole, Andy Williams, Johnny Mathis and several different symphonies and choirs represent Christmas to me.  O Holy Night, Jingle Bells, It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year, White Christmas, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, I'll Be Home For Christmas, We Three Kings, Sleigh Ride, Deck The Halls, Away In A Manger, Silent Night, We Wish You A Merry Christmas, Twelve Days Of Christmas, Peace On Earth/Little Drummer Boy, Feliz Navidad, Adeste Fidelis ( O Come All Ye Faithful), Faith Of Our Fathers, O Little Town Of Bethlehem, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, O Christmas Tree, Do You Hear What I Hear, Joy To The World, It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Silver Bells, Here Comes Santa Claus, The First Noel, Let It Snow, The Christmas Song, Angels We Have Heard On High, Baby It's Cold Outside and so many other seasonal melodies represent the season for me. Listen to your favorites. Have a cup of hot chocolate and turn on that beloved music.


Here are just a few of my favorites:


Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
Judy Garland

White Christmas
Bing Crosby

Linus and Lucy
Vince Guaraldi Trio

Christmas Time Is Here
Vince Guaraldi Trio

O Little Town Of Bethlehem
Emmylou Harris

Baby It's Cold Outside
Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme

Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer
Gene Autry

Holly Jolly Christmas
Burl Ives

Silver and Gold
Burl Ives

Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town
Bruce Springsteen

Feliz Navidad
Jose Feliciano

I Wonder As I Wander
Linda Ronstadt

What Child Is This
Vanessa Williams

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
Andy Williams

You're A Mean One Mr. Grinch
Boris Karloff

Peace On Earth/Little Drummer Boy
Bing Crosby and David Bowie

Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree
Brenda Lee

Ave Maria
Josh Groban

Ave Maria
Denyce Graves

Sleigh Ride
Ella Fitzgerald

Good King Wencelas
Judy Collins

Let It Snow, Let It Snow
Lena Horne

White Christmas
The Drifters

Twelve Days of Christmas
Perry Como

Silent Night
Barbra Streisand

The Christmas Song
Rosemary Clooney

Welcome Christmas
The Who Village Choir

I'll Be Home For Christmas
Tony Bennett

Away In A Manger
Julie Andrews

Frosty The Snowman
Jimmy Durante

Carol Of The Bells
David Foster

Caroling,Caroling
Nat King Cole

O Holy Night
Michael Crawford

It's The Most Wonderful Time of The Year
Johnny Mathis

Winter Wonderland
Eurythmics

Jingle Bells
Frank Sinatra

Joy To The World
Harlem Gospel Choir

Go Tell It On The Mountain
Anne Murray

O Come All Ye Faithful
Art Garfunkel

Do You Hear What I Hear
Kristin Chenoweth

Do You Hear What I Hear
Bing Crosby

Savor those tunes!

Lights! Action ! Holiday Films !

One of the many gifts of the season is viewing our favorite holiday films and specials. They range from timeless classics to animated television specials. Each one represents a particular memory or touches our heart and/or our funny bone. In no particular order, here are a few suggestions for you to enjoy this season. The Bells Of St. Marys (1945) Ingrid Bergman and Bing Crosby star with Henry Travers in this vintage film. Desk Set (1957)stars Katharine Hepburn, Spencer Tracy and Gig Young. It's A Wonderful Life (1946) directed by Frank Capra and starring Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed and Lionel Barrymore. Henry Travers portrays Clarence the Angel in search of his wings. Ward Bond and Frank Faylen play Bert and Ernie. Lillian Randolph was Annie. To learn more about the characters from Bedford Falls, watch this classic. White Christmas ( 1954) stars Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, Danny Kaye,Vera Ellen, Dean Jagger and Mary Wickes. Crosby and Kaye are Bob Wallace and Phil Davis,old WWII buddies in show business who stumble upon Clooney and Ellen (a sister song and dance act) and also stumble upon their former General (Jagger) and....well watch the movie..... The Bishop's Wife (1947) stars Cary Grant, Loretta Young and David Niven. The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992) features Michael Caine, Kermit, Rizzo the Rat and many Muppets. Miracle on 34th Street (1947) stars Natalie Wood, Maureen O'Hara,Edmund Gwenn and John Payne. Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) features Judy Garland, Margaret O'Brien and Mary Astor in this classic directed by Vincente Minelli. Holiday Inn (1942) stars Bing Crosby,Fred Astaire,Marjorie Reynolds. ELF (2003) stars Will Ferrell, Zooey Deschanel, James Caan, Edward Asner, Bob Newhart, Mary Steenburgen and Daniel Tay. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (1989) features Chevy Chase as Clark Griswold in this modern classic directed by John Hughes. Also featured are Beverly D'Angelo, Juliette Lewis, Johnny Galecki,Doris Roberts,Diane Ladd, E.G.Marshall,John Randolph and Randy Quaid. Home Alone (1990) introduces Macaulay Culkin to the role of Kevin McCallister in this fine John Hughes classic. Catherine O'Hara,Joe Pesci,Daniel Stern, John Candy and John Heard are also featured. Scrooged (1988) stars Bill Murray being haunted by three holiday spirits in this Christmas Carol interpretation. You will find Karen Allen, John Forsythe, Carol Kane, Alfre Woodard, Robert Mitchum. Robert Goulet, Bobcat Goldthwait, Jamie Farr,David Johansen, John Houseman and Mary Lou Retton in this film. Christmas In Connecticut (1945) stars Barbara Stanwyck, Dennis Morgan and Sidney Greenstreet. A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965) stars Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Linus, Schroeder,Lucy,Sally,Pig-Pen,Patty and Shermy. Any Andy Williams, Perry Como,Johnny Mathis, Dean Martin Christmas television special will bring back great memories for me and will be great fun for you to watch. Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer (1964), Frosty The Snowman (1969)and The Little Drummer Boy (1968)are also cherished specials. There are plenty more favorites of mine and I am sure you have your favorites too. The important thing is to take time to watch them and remember. Start your traditions now. It is never too late. Happy holidays. happy viewing. Could someone get the lights?

Thanksgiving Giblets

In 1492 Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue with three ships, the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria. During this voyage he discovered the New World. Adrianus Valerius wrote the Dutch hymn, We Gather Together in 1597 to celebrate the Dutch victory over the Spanish in the Battle of Turnhout. The Mayflower left England on September 6, 1620 and 66 days later dropped anchor in the tip of Cape Cod (Provincetown Harbor). In March of 1621, all surviving  passengers moved ashore at Plymouth. Later in 1621, the Pilgrims and Wampanoag Indians shared an autumn harvest feast that is recognized today as one of the first Thanksgiving celebrations in the colonies. Some sort of crustless pumpkin pie with honey,stewed pumpkins,milk and spices may have been baked in the ashes in the Plimouth Settlement but sadly no ovens were available. Several variations preceding current recipes appear prior to the 1796 familiar sounding version including milk,pumpkins,eggs,molasses,allspice and ginger or sugar,mace and nutmeg.

Somewhere between the 1820's and 1830's, the American folk song Turkey In The Straw was published. Then in 1863, in the midst of the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed a national Thanksgiving Day to be held each November. In November of 1924 , a small group of Macy's employees, floats and animals from the Central Park Zoo presented the first Macys Parade. Giant helium ballons were added in 1927. Ocean Spray was formed in 1930 by three cranberry growers whose first product was a jellied cranberry sauce. Today the company has over 600 grower families. The inaugural NFL Thanksgiving football game was played in 1934 between the Detroit Lions and the Chicago Bears. The Bears beat the Lions 19-16 in that first holiday game.

Gary Cooper starred as a pacifist turned war hero in Sergeant York, released in 1941 . The film featured Cooper's character as a country boy sharpshooter who utilized his turkey calls to lure birds and enemies to reveal themselves. In November of 1973, A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving was released and the heartfelt prayer from Linus became history. Lucy's humiliation of Charlie Brown with the moving football became infamous. Snoopy's loving preparation of the popcorn and toast feast became instant holiday entertainment. In approximately 1981, the Butterball Hotline was created.  November 25,1987 was the release date for Planes, Trains and Automobiles. This film told the hilarious and sometimes poignant story of Steve Martin and John Candy's efforts to get home for Thanksgiving.

There is your Thanksgiving timeline. We all share those dates and events. We have all seen our elementary school rooms decorated with pilgrims, indians,cornucopia,turkeys,ships,muskets and corn. We have all traced our hands for handprint turkeys. We have shared the long trek to visit relatives. We each also have our own personal traditions, stories, aromas, recipes, music, memories and menus that make the holiday our own.

I am particlarly thankful for the many blessings in my life. I am thankful for family and friends and in MY life, my friends are family. I am thankful for good health and the health of my loved ones. ( That sounds as if I am not thankful for the health of strangers and that is inaccurate). I am thankful for those who willingly give of their time and interest and love in participating in my life. I am thankful for receiving love. I am thankful for giving love. I am thankful for those who make me laugh. I am thankful for historical collections and historical preservation. I am thankful for insightful thoughtful writings and powerful images and life-changing performances. I am thankful for art museums and historical museums and photography and books. I am thankful for profound lyrics and fun lyrics and beautiful music. I am thankful for those willing to fight for justice, equality, human rights and tolerance. I am thankful for those who protect the environment in this  "New World". I am thankful for those persons who are no longer with us who have shaped my life and continue to guide my path. I am thankful for hugs that express deep affection. I am thankful for people who continue to write letters. I am thankful for the resilience of the human spirit most evident in Gabrielle Giffords and Mark Kelly. I am thankful for their example. I am thankful for those who search for deeper meanings and question authority and are resolute in their quest. I am thankful for skeeball and sit-coms and purring cats and waterfalls and no, I am not about to break into song. I am thankful for vacations, festivals, celebrations, toasts and holidays. I am thankful for trips where we become Columbus-like in our searches for the undiscovered and new. I am thankful for the sounds of I Love You and children laughing . I am thankful for the NYPD and the NYFD and all those who rescue or save people in whatever ways they need saving. I am thankful for those who bring light into darkness. I am thankful for those who replace fear with calm and hope. I am thankful for pizza and football and all four seasons. I am thankful for cranberry bogs and cotton fields and vineyards and peanut fields. And of course, I am thankful for pumpkin pie. Gobble,gobble. It had to be said. Now play ball. And speaking of ball, the Butterball Hotline number is 1-800-BUTTERBALL. You're welcome.

My Aunt Jean

I pulled the car straight toward the oncoming traffic, pressed down on the accelerator and maneuvered past the concrete median as I completed my possibly illegal and certainly risky u-turn. As I gunned the engine and slid comfortably in between two of the vehicles fighting for position in a narrow lane, I glanced at my passenger who responded : Jeepers !! That was Aunt Jean. She had every right to release all the profanity she had ever learned or at the very least question my driving. But not Aunt Jean. She would never scold me. She was my champion.

I watched her bake biscuits and chicken and dumplings and roast. I watched her toss salads and listened to her tell stories and sometimes the stories would become tossed and she would forget what she was looking for in the cabinet and true to her form, she would just laugh. Eventually you would have to participate in the food preparation if you wanted to dine before the next morning. She was slow and steady with an emphasis on the slow. She was never in any sort of hurry. She might say she was in a rush but her body language was evidence to the contrary. You would find yourself glancing at the clock and wondering if we should just skip the meal we were currently working on and move on to the next one. But you had to just take it at her schedule and because it was Aunt Jean, you really did not mind at all. Time spent with her was always a joy. She was my reminder to slow down.

Whenever something significant happened in my life, I reached for the phone to call her. Her voice always expressed delight at the call and at whatever story we shared. I know without a doubt that had I been accused or convicted of any crime or poor decision or bad judgment,she would have declared my innocence. Nothing and no one could have persuaded her otherwise. She would be entertained in whatever I did. Aunt Jean would revel in my escapades.  She was my defender and confidante.

Her hugs and the sound of her voice sustained me. Her unconditional love gave me strength. Her laugh brought everything back into perspective. She was an attentive listener and a good coversationalist. When I was younger, her lap provided protection and security. When I was older, we had to only make eye contact to know immediately what the other was thinking or feeling. She could restore order in my world. She was my touchstone.

Aunt Jean was game for anything that I wanted to do. She would accompany me to a bookstore and sit contentedly just watching me browse through the stacks of books. It was important to her that I was happy. She was thrilled if we drove to an orange grove or patronized a local pizza parlor. We had fun grocery shopping and checking in at the neighborhood fruit stand. We had fun lounging on the couch and having late-night talks. Whether we drove to the beach or took a nostalgic visit to an old arcade, we would get a kick out of our time together.If a football game was important to me, then it became equally important to her. I adored her. She adored me.

While driving four quite elderly and not very healthy aunts and uncles to the seaside, the car had a blow-out. The tire's blow-out was about to be followed by my own breakdown but Aunt Jean made me laugh. The two uncles took their feeble bodies to the back of the car and demanded that I pop the trunk. They then announced their intentions to change the tire. One of the uncles was on oxygen and had only recently been released from a hospital. The other uncle was a small fragile aging man who did not appear to be in the running for jacking up a car. So Aunt Jean first talked the testosterone-fueled uncles out of their denial and back into the car. She then encouraged me to speed-dial for assistance. After our rescuer arrived we were informed that the hubcap was missing and had probably popped off on the highway and I was prompted to look for it. I had no sooner embarked on my roadside adventure than I was joined by Aunt Jean, walking step for step, side by side with me. She was always by my side.

I am not nor have I ever been a morning person. Inevitably Aunt Jean would comment that I should sleep in because we had nothing specific planned for the coming day. Then at some ungodly pre-dawn hour, my bedroom door would creak open and she would whisper: Doll, I'm making breakfast. Are you going to get up ? Have you ever seen baseball players curse into their gloves ?  I would just sort of bite the pillow and whimper silently. But I was defenseless. How can you not respond to someone who is ready to visit with you? I will never forget the twinkle in her eye whenever I arrived at her home. So of course I got up. Some of those early morning visits are a little foggy but by God, I was there. She was my alarm clock.

I wish I could call Aunt Jean today. I would wish her a happy birthday. Or better yet, I would drive to see her and give her a heartfelt embrace. I would arise whenever she wanted me to and I would probably drive with greater caution. She was my Aunt Jean.

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My !

Video clips of horrified haunted house visitors always emerge at this time of year. Halloween inspires practical jokers to plan and implement devious methods of terrifying loved ones. Incredibly vulnerable people are jolted by an unknown predator lurking in their washing machine or under their comforter. Unsuspecting individuals round a corner to meet some ghoulish character in their face. Personally, I neither enjoy nor do I tolerate being scared. I tend to react as if I am a lifelong Tourettes Syndrome carrier. There will be no high pitch screams or fainting. There will be excessive profanity. So why then do I so enjoy watching other people being scared? In this case, I must confess to finding pleasure in other martyrs' pain.

I find myself laughing out loud and I feel guilty about it. Nonetheless I laugh uncontrollably at the sight of people becoming unhinged. These folks are the ones running into walls and screaming for mercy. They are tearing through the cornfields pleading for an escape. ( But seriously, who arrives at a cornfield in the night during the fall expecting a positive outcome) ?

Now consider that I am a woman who has never fully recovered from viewing the horror classic House of  Wax with Vincent Price . The later appearance of Carolyn Jones on the television series, The Addams Family was my only convincing evidence that she was, in fact, acting and not truly waxed. And before you go there I was fine with The Munsters and The Addams Family. I was however not fine with Night Gallery which my older sister insisted on me watching with her. I was also not great with Dark Shadows which my best friend considered great television. No you did not see me in the theatre for The Twilight Series or anything involving vampires.

There is a current television show on the SYFY network called Scare Tactics hosted by Tracy Morgan. Again I am laughing at people being emotionally injured by elaborate pranks. These poor souls are paralyzed with fear. I am very sorry and I am still laughing. I must be missing some sort of jokester compassion gene.

I have never seen Silence Of The Lambs and I never hope to see it. I like lambs. Sheep as a group have never offended me in any way. Why should I wish them harm ? I do not even like the teasers for this film. I once unknowingly viewed Poltergeist with some friends. I thought it was a German spy film. I did. The film began and I was so very confused and then I was so very unhappy. Then my cohorts discovered my fears post-viewing. So they plotted and gathered an old clown from an attic and placed it in the bedroom where I was a guest. Correct. These people were trusted friends. Then to be even more humorous they moved the damn clown. ( See? The cursing has already begun). No I did not look under that bed. In horror flicks, no one survives looking under the bed. Just walk away. Then run away and do not look back.

And for the love of everything holy, do not run upstairs or into a dead-end street or lock yourself in a car. Scary things chase you. Scary things are not afraid of heights. Scary things live in cornfields. You drive up to the haunted house in the cornfield laughing and smiling. Then things start to happen. Who is smiling now? The same goes for a haunted forest. It gives a whole new meaning to petrified forest.

The Haunted Forest warning sign in The Wizard of Oz reads I'd turn back if I were you. The Cowardly Lion attempts to obey but his friends convince him to continue. Those two steps forward brought flying monkeys into his life. He had enough problems without aerial monkeys. But when he screamed because he thought someone pulled his tail and it turned out to be him, I laughed.  Dear God, what is wrong with me ?  It was funny though.

I have confessed my guilty pleasure and yet I do not feel cured. So enjoy yourselves. Walk unwittingly straight into clear doom. Arrive at the cornfields and houses and forests with a newfound courage that unlike last year, you will NOT be scared this time. Have fun you human sacrifices. Bug out your eyes like Looney Tunes characters. Shreik as loud as you possibly can. Run as fast as you can while being chased by a zombie. Go in there and make me proud. More importantly, make me laugh.

Night-Blooming Cereus

This past weekend was filled with social networking. The internet was not involved. The splendid outdoors overflowing with fall foliage was not a screen saver. Friends had actual conversations with other friends. Eye contact was made with friends, a bull and a buffalo. We played chicken with actual chickens. Embraces were shared (with the friends not the chickens). We sat on porches. We sat around tables and ate and drank together. We felt the same breeze and walked on the same leaves and dodged the same falling acorns. They were not virtual acorns. They were oak nuts and if they made contact with your head,you felt it. Loving glances were exchanged and they too were felt. Glasses were raised and stories were told. Some feelings of love and acceptance and history and comfort and gratitude are expressed silently. They were felt and they were felt deeply. We solved global issues while sipping bourbon and devouring banana bread. We watched horses and cows and cats and dogs amble around the pasture. We watched birds perch on the feeders and dart off to nearby branches. Our olfactory systems engaged with pigs and thankfully a eucalyptus tree. We had the opportunity to experience that joyful moment of reunion when you see the face of a loved one at the airport. It has always been a blessing made even more powerful post 9-11. We re-lived past shared vacations and gatherings. Fears and concerns were confessed along with joys and successes. There were many laugh-out-loud moments. The clinking of glasses and smiles on these faces seem so familiar. These are the friends with whom you have shared so many pivotal moments in your life. You have been together at happy and sad occasions and leaned on each other with the consistent support of a  lifelong friendship. They have seen you cry and made you laugh and seen you laugh until you cried. You want them by your side at weddings and vacations and sports victories and holidays and celebrations. You need them by your side when medical emergencies blindside you or difficult decisions need to be made. Phone calls in the middle of the night are always placed to these friends and they always answer. They are the same people you call for validation and encouragement when you have bent a fender or tied up a door-to-door religious zealot. They are there for you when your team wins and more importantly when it loses. They are there to pick you up and perk you up when the acorns feel more like meteors. These friends are the night-blooming cereus* figures in your life. They are always beautiful but their most spectacular blooms arrive in the dark of night. Just when you thought they couldn't possibly illuminate your life any more.


* The night-blooming cereus is a flowering cacti plant that blooms at night

Roll Up Your Sleeves

I'm in line waiting for a flu shot at the drug store. I begin to examine items on the nearest shelves surrounding me. Do you remember that quiz asking which six items you would want to survive on a deserted island? I immediately thought of that. I found: a DNA paternity test, a breath alcohol tester,wound closure strips, Bleedarrest, Toy Story bandaids, a Barbie sparkling princess, sunscreen, reading glasses, eye drops, margarita mix, a Star Wars light saber, bruise relief, a baseball splint, mouthwash, a handheld shower, latex gloves, Beggin Strips, an Angry Birds board game, antacids, Staphaseptic, a Play Doh fun factory, lice treatment, Winnie the Pooh tattoos, adult diapers and ivy block. Add the tequila for the mix, Corona, limes and Coca Cola and I am ready for the next episode of Survivor. Seriously. Only in America could I find these items in one optical scan. The flu shot? Check. The pharmacist* said that everyone over the age of six months should have one. Roll up your sleeves. This blog is nothing if not a community service.

*Also the recommendation of the U.S. Center for Disease Prevention and Control

WWLBD (What Would Linda Beazley Do)

Some really good people are hurting today. They are hurting because they have unwrapped birthday gifts in their hands. They have funny birthday cards that she would have loved. She would have howled. She was Linda B.,  a seemingly indomitable force of nature who could only be detoured by cancer. She died on September 12th and in the days that have followed none of those people have seen any reasons to celebrate. September 29th is her birthday.

My first remembrance of hearing about Linda B. came from the voice of Carolyn, a friend of mine.  Linda B. was her mentor, friend and hero. Carolyn spoke of her Linda B. like one would speak of any person who was about to be named a saint. I assumed her  love of a dear friend was causing her to exaggerate. Then I met Linda. There were no exaggerations.  And before I knew it, I was blessed to be able to call Linda a friend as well.  She was incredibile fun. She had an irresistible smile that only she could produce. She gave real hugs that informed the recipient of her excitement to see you. She was a radiant lady. Warmth,kindness and generosity exuded from every pore of her being. We shared a love of sports and she was a great conversationalist about all things Braves, Falcons, University of Georgia, NCAA Women's Basketball and Masters.  Linda B. was an enthusiastic and loyal sports fan. She was a teacher and confidante. She possessed all the traits of someone to be admired and she was admired by many.  She also possessed all the characteristics of someone to be loved and she was loved by an enormous amount of folks.

She was a Georgia native and quite simply she was Georgia. She adored Augusta, her birthplace, and she was eager to talk about it, show you around,  revisit landmarks and share her love of Augusta with you.  Masters Week was Linda B. in her prime.  Her town was on the center stage and she was the unofficial hostess for the event.  She could suggest restaurants, explain parking, navigate traffic, predict the winner, ask about your family and make home-made pear preserves while determining your best route to The Augusta National.  She loved her flowers and gardening and managed to excel at that as well.  She had a lovely inviting yard that surrounded her beautiful love-filled home.

Her knowledge of elections and all things related was immeasurable. She treasured her elections colleagues and friends. They were her elections family. She always had time to teach the rookies with patience and invested whatever time they needed to become confident and well-trained.  She held tight to her longtime elections friends . She always had her priorities in order. She was a great listener for colleagues,friends,family and anyone who needed her. She loved to talk. She loved to eat. She loved to laugh. She loved to cheer her teams and athletes and children and grandchildren and friends on to victories and successes. Her heart had a special place for her family. Her children, grandchildren, siblings, great grandson and relatives meant everything to her.

The Braves lost a critical game tonight. The Yankees lost too but one of their players had a remarkable game. Mark Teixeira was one of Linda B.'s favorite players and he had two home runs tonight including one grand slam. I know Linda B. caught that ball, sitting perched on a star sparkling in the night sky. I can hear her laughing and see her clapping. That grand slam was for your birthday Linda B..

We are beyond sad. We are angry. We hurt. We cry. We ache. We miss her and we will always miss her. But what would Linda B. do?

She was a person of faith. Her faith was very important to her. She was resolute. She taught us so much, could she be teaching us still? We each know that Linda B. would want us to carry on with a renewed sense of purpose,with giving spirits and loving hearts. She would want to be remembered for her life not her death. She would want us to get on with it. Oh and she would want us to have parties. She would want us to celebrate not only her life but life itself. And she would want us to know that we will always have her with us.

Take a second whenever you need direction and ask yourself: "What Would Linda  B. Do" and her insurmountable spirit will guide you.  So place a candle on a cupcake and celebrate Linda B.'s birthday and after you blow the candle out, her light will continue to shine. ( And yes,she would want you to enjoy the heck out of that cupcake.)

Happy Birthday Linda B..

Imagine

And so it arrives. The ten year anniversary of the September 11,2001 attack on the United States is today. The heartbreak and horror come rushing back to us. The 9/11 Commission Report states that a minimum of 2600 people died at the World Trade Center and another 125 perished at the Pentagon. Tragically 256 people lost their lives on the four planes involved in the terrorist attack. Different reports give you different numbers but the end result is consistently sickening regardless of the exact toll. The Port Authority Police lost 37 officers. The NYC Police Department lost 23 officers. The NYC Fire Department lost 343 firemen and paramedics. There were 115 nations whose citizens were killed in the attacks. Approximately 100 vehicles were lost by the NYC Fire Department. One thousand six hundred and nine people lost a spouse or partner in the attacks. Three thousand fifty one children lost a parent. Twenty percent of Americans knew someone injured or killed in the attacks. The statistics are overwhelming. But those are mere numbers. These were lives lost not numbers tallied.

This is my generation's Pearl Harbor. We did not want one nor did we want to surpass the death toll of Pearl Harbor and yet we did. We did not want to recognize the traditional question asking where were you when...the first tower fell...the second tower fell....the Pentagon was hit.....you heard about Flight 93...We did not want to have a Ground Zero. We did not want to become all too familiar with the phrase: first-responders.


The NYPD website honors the "23 police officers who were died on 9/11 and those who have perished since as a result of illnesses contracted from exposure at Ground Zero and Fresh Kills."  ( Fresh Kills is a landfill that was temporarily used to sort two million tons of rubble from Ground Zero.) The FDNY website refers to memorials honring "the 343 FDNY members killed on September 11,2001 as well as the 57 who have died in the past decade due to World Trade Center-related illnesses." One of the FDNY's fallen was their beloved chaplain,Father Mychal Judge who ran toward the carnage to help. He was giving last rites to a firefighter when he was killed. He became the first recorded victim of the attacks. He is Victim 0001. More statistics. More numbers. More nightmares.

New York,New York.  Washington,DC.  Shanksville,Pennsylvania.  We will always associate them with this date. There was such an enormous amount of sadness. There was such vast loss. There was such unspeakable pain.

There was also resilience. There was support. There was love. There was faith. There was patriotism. There was courage. There was resolve.

Fly your flags. Sing the national anthem with feeling. Wear FDNY caps and NYPD t-shirts and remember the lost. Remember them by how you live your lives. Share the message of Victim 0001 : LOVE & PEACE.
And remember the words of another fallen New Yorker, John Lennon:

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one.

Got Milk?

My grandmother lived to be 105 years old. She was an amazing woman. She was a great cook. Fried chicken,creamed corn,fried okra,green beans,cornbread,coconut pies,fried apple pies,chocolate pies,yeast rolls,pound cake, home-made ice cream,congealed salads and black eyed peas were among her specialties. She cooked and ate all of those foods. And she lived to be 105. I told you she was amazing. (She also drank alot of milk so add that to your menu.) We haven't even discussed breakfast. It was her favorite meal. She prepared biscuits,gravy,syrup,eggs,grits,bacon and country ham. She loved syrup on her biscuits. Everything she cooked was delicious. She would always find fault with each meal. She would say that something wasn't quite right but it was the imaginary critique of a culinary perfectionist.

She also shined in the garden. She had two green thumbs and a couple of green hands. She would dig around in the dirt and plant and weed and nurture. She had incredibly beautiful flowers. She also had a pure and inconsolable hatred of her nemesis,the squirrel. She could not tolerate the squirrel's vandalism of her garden.

She was a strong woman with a wicked sense of humor and an inexplicable ability to memorize and re-tell lengthy jokes. She was also soft-hearted and would cry easily over the reporting of sad news or an emotional storyline in Lassie. She loved television and especially enjoyed The Lawrence Welk Show,Flipper and Lassie. She also very much enjoyed her radio. She listened to talk radio long before it was vogue.

She enjoyed music especially country music. She watched The Grand Ole Opry and loved to listen to Minnie Pearl. She could play the mouth-harp (harmonica) like nobody's business.

She hailed from the great state of Alabama and she loved her homeland. She loved her family and she was generous in her time and affection.

I can remember riding the train with her and she packed a jar of ice cold milk for the trip. We also had the small coca cola bottles and crackers and cheese. I remember going with her to department stores at Christmas and looking at elaborate store windows decorated for the holidays with elves, reindeer and trains. I can remember hearing trains in the night when visiting her. She once told me that the train whistle was "an awful lonesome sound".

In later years, I was her go-to person if she couldn't think of an actor's name. She would call me and instruct me to flip to a certain channel and identify the person. She loved movies. She enjoyed Shirley Temple. She enjoyed westerns and the old classics.

Today I am thinking about waking up in her home in Birmingham,Alabama to the sound of Gospel Jubilee on the television and the crackling furnace and the smells of biscuits and country ham and the sweet,sweet smell of my grandmother. I can feel that cold glass of milk in my hand. And I can hear that train. Today is her birthday. I miss you,Mama.

Angels In The Outfield

Sports fans get it. They understand the importance of teamwork. They know that you have to show up for the big event. You have to be flexibile enough to take the shot and other times know when you need to assist. Some times you have to take one for the team. No one wants to bunt. But if that bunt helps your team then you stand there and wait for the opportunity and find yourself satisfied and happy that you put your team in scoring position. Some times you might be a little winded but if you are needed to go out for the long pass then you are ready to go the distance. And whether its the basket,goal,end zone or home plate you are always pointed in that direction because HOME is what it is all about.   Ernestine Ward was the ultimate sports fan.   It was a blessing to be there to see Ernestine Ward go home yesterday. She shined in her final at bat. She had gathered her clan of nine amazing children together to be reminded of the enormous love this mighty matriarch gave to them. The great baseball film Field Of Dreams coined the phrase, If you build it,they will come. Well she built this remarkable team (family) and they came from all parts of the nation.   Each of her players(children) are incredibile individuals. They each bring different gifts to the team,as do their spouses,children and their children and... Yes,the team has grown and achieved the impossible by getting stronger and better with each addition. But the starting line-up is the original nine. They are the Wards--the mighty,mighty Wards. Ken,Mark,Mary,Nate,Paul,Phil,Sue,Wayne and Yvonne. (Alphabetical order guys--remember there is no crying in baseball.)   Their obvious strength is their size. They are great in number. But their greatest weapon is their knowledge of the playbook. There will be no hesitation regarding decisions. Onside kick or punt? Go for the first down? Hit it out of the park or advance the runner? All they must do is ask themselves what their mom would do and know that home is wherever you all are gathered.   They each participated in the service whether by hymn selection, a personal tribute or their very presence. They spoke of her sacrifice bunts and referred to her as both the Most Valuable Player and the heart of the team. They share a collective grief and tremendous loss. More importantly they share countless memories and a collective love. And as they said,they will carry her in their hearts.   So, this play-by-play is for them.      Ernestine Ward is in the batters box. She looks at the packed house in Miller Park. It doesn't phase her. Her kitchen had more people in it every morning for thirty years. She kicks the chalk. She accidentally kicks the catcher and says "Oh, excuse me hon' ". (This shortened term for honey is her term of endearment.) She straightens up and looks at the pitcher. He sends a curveball toward her and it seems to arrive in her power zone and CRACK that ball looks like it might be........it falls in left field at the wall,but wait...Ward is already rounding second--would she...could she---she is flying......the throw in is cut off and Ward has passed third and is racing toward home--the throw--------the call-------SAFE!!!!!! SAFE!!!!! Ernestine Ward is safe at home and the Milwaukee Brewers have won the World Series!!!!!!!!! Interviewed later the catcher was asked what was that Ward said as she stepped over him when she scored? He replied: "Excuse me hon' " and that she had a big smile on her face.   If you have ever seen Angels In The Outfield, then you know ... it could happen.

 

 

 

 

Number One

I have a friend. She has a daughter. She is also my friend. And she too has a daughter and she is my friend.    "Number Three" recently walked away from a potentially disastrous event. There is no need to over-dramatize this event. She and another person walked away from it. For this I am very thankful. These things do happen in our lives. We can plan and plan but the unexpected is always around the corner. There is no need to fear it or attempt to avoid it. There are some things we cannot control. My close friends will be laughing that I could actually write that line much less accept it. Like many others, I waste time worrying about things that I simply cannot control. As a human, I do not like to see other people hurt. Diseases and accidents and addictions and crimes and weather events are just a few of the things I would like to control. We can watch television shows about characters who know tomorrow's headlines and thus can prevent disasters. We can listen to "The Dance" lyrics and wonder what would have happened if only assassinations could have been stopped. But we do not know and so we are left to make the most of every day in the most productive positive ways that we can. Saying I love you and thank you often is a way to start. If we disagree with other people's choices then we can react with something other than anger. Perhaps we do not understand what is different or unknown to us. Making that phone call or delivering that casserole are other gestures that we many times consider but never complete. We continually have these wake-up calls telling us to appreciate what we do have instead of worrying about what we do not have. We need to realize what we do have. I am repeating this in hopes that it will sink in. As far as we know, we have tomorrow. If you open your eyes in the morning, you made it. You have to lighten up. Hug people. Laugh. Give. Hold a door open. Buy a grande latte with extra foam and a cherry on top for a stranger. In the spirit of full disclosure, I believe in Shirley MacLaine and I believe in angels. Also, I was never very good at math. I said at the beginning that I had three friends in this story. I meant four. So change number one to two,two to three and three to four. So number four walked away. And I have every belief that Number One who is an angel... was there to catch number three and gently send her on her way.

Sweet Home Alabama

An 87 year old woman recently returned to her hometown of Guin, Alabama. There she was welcomed by individuals representing four generations of her family. They ranged in age from two to ninety-five. They journeyed from the comfort of their homes and scheduled plans to welcome this lady home. Fresh vegetables and fruit adorned the table with the accompanying variety of salads,breads,meats and desserts.( One should never leave a southern table hungry. There is simply no excuse for that.) The food was plentiful and delicious. The four day visit was filled with stories,laughter,tears and more stories and more food. Additional family gathered for another wonderful meal with delectable hamburgers and fruit and desserts. The canteloupe and watermelon and tomatoes were incredibly bright and colorful and scrumptious. Most of them were grown in family members' gardens.The meal was fantastic as was the visit. The four days included the most fascinating maneuvering of walkers and wheelchairs with children darting in and out of sight and a soundtrack of giggles emanating from both age groups. Holding hands,giving and receiving hugs and exchanging smiles and winks with loved ones is a timeless gift.We skyped with family in Missouri to extend this reunion and love a little further and to remind them that they are never far away from our hearts. Photo albums were dusted off and old memories were made new again. Jokes were shared along with football predictions and hopes. More photos were taken and additional memories were created. Nostalgic drives were made through northwest Alabama. Beautiful flowers were placed at five cemeteries. The record-breaking heat did not stop these acts of love and respect. Another stop was made on the trip home to see more family and enjoy more food and stories.There is always time for one more embrace and one more memory.This visit was restorative not just for my 87 year old mother but for me and for our friend who made the trip and for everyone involved. We were reminded that although we are not Corleones, we are family and our family is important. We represented. And we were happy to discover that in Alabama, you can go home again.

My Cup Runneth Over

There is nothing worse than someone attempting to be funny and failing miserably. Regrettably some people do not realize their weaknesses or refuse to accept them and this is even more painful. It becomes awkward for everyone. This applies to alot of things not limited to humor. Everyone has gifts and it is good to embrace those gifts or talents. Similarly it is a good thing to acknowledge and accept those things at which one is not good and should therefore avoid. I cannot cook. I threw spaghetti on a wall to see if it was done. More specifically,I threw it on wallpaper. The spaghetti was done and so were my cooking privileges. I cannot sew. I spent the majority of home economics class ripping out seams. I cannot sing. I don't even sing in the shower so as to not offend the soap. All of us have been to a talent show or pageant where the contestant's talent was not impressive. You think to yourself that someone should have informed this individual that his/her strengths are not in the singing or dancing categories. But then each of these individuals, whether unfunny,clumsy or off-key should know these truths themselves. I withdrew myself from "jazz" dance classes to prevent the eventual suicides of my instructors. One teacher seemed to have a small stroke each time she failed to convince me that the elasticity of my spine should be the primary focus of my life. I do not have a green thumb. Neither do I have a great familiarity of plant types. I cannot identify the difference in poison oak or eucalyptus. I am equally good (not) at bird identifications. Each and every time I point out a hawk...it is a vulture. If you think you see me clogging, it is more likely that I am killing ants. (I am allergic to ants so spare me the "save the ants" response.) A musical instrument that I can excel at has yet to be invented. Math is not my area of expertise. I wanted foreign language credit for taking algebra ...basic algebra. I have friends who are horse people. They ride and compete in various equestrian events. I am intimidated by horses and they know it. My friends know it. The horses know it. I know it. My drawing is incredibly impressive if you are a fan of the stick-figure genre. My sculpting is powerful if you embrace the Mr. Bill period of art. The areas in which I am defective are great in number. Thank God I know what they are. No one has to suggest that I sing a little quieter. I can hear my own voice and I know that it is neither melodic or harmonious. Job applicants are told to ignore the interview question about your strengths and weaknesses and simply respond with the strengths. These will be the very same people belting out a version of the national anthem that sounds like a cat in the spin cycle of your washer. It is wonderful to try new things and then to sort out which are keepers and which might result in injury,litigation,public humiliation and international incidents. You certainly want to be a lifelong learner and try new adventures as long as you do not cross over into the land of narcissism. If you present yourself as an expert in areas in which you are not, then you lose all credibility. Celebrate your strengths. I can make people laugh. I can move them to tears through my words and my photography. I am a talented writer and photographer. I am grateful for the blessing of those gifts.That is plenty. My cup runneth over.

First Annual Global Warming Pageant

September 13,1922 the hottest air temperature ever recorded occurred in Al-Aziziyah, Libya:  57.8°C/ 136 degrees Farenheit. We could leave it at that. But we will not allow one lone nation to claim the title of the hottest location without a competition. Let the interview segment begin. The Iranian contenders argue that other sites find that a NASA satellite recorded surface temperatures as high as 71 °C (159 °F) in the Lut desert of Iran, making it the hottest temperature ever recorded on the surface of Earth. Dollal,Ethiopia is home to the Denakil Depression of Africa dipping to a depth of 116m below sea level with a resulting sweltering temperature. Dallol is home to the highest average air temperature in the world and the salt plain to the Dallol volcano, the lowest on earth. Dallol, Ethiopia, could also arguably be the warmest place on earth with an average yearly ambient surface air temperature of 307.55 kelvin (34.4°C = 93.92°F). We have a strong race heating up. Yes, I said it.

Enter team Libya. The desert plateau of Dasht-e Lut,Libya 's scorching surface temperature reportedly broke the 70 degrees centigrade barrier. A widespread area of the central Lut is infamous for killing every single creature including bacteria. I believe we have a winner for the talent portion of this competition. It's strongest rival for the world's driest spot is Chile's Atacama Desert. Team USA now makes a strong showing at Death Valley, California with the second-highest air temperature on record, reaching 56.7°C. Other records list the temperature higher in this driest place in the United States with a listing up to 134 Fahreheit (57.8 Celsius) on July 10, 1913. Our unbiased distinguished panel takes these conflicting reports into consideration as they await the long anticipated swimsuit and evening gown competitions.

And still, the very hottest place has not been established. I hope a scholarship accompanies this title.  The World Meteorological Organization reported Bangkok, Thailand as the absolute hottest place on the planet including its infamous smog,humidity and high temps. Tunisia also has strong showings in the how-high-can-we-go temperature category. Northern Africa's vast Sahara is the world's largest hot desert stretching from the Red Sea to the Atlantic Ocean. The Sahara's hottest temp was 136 degrees farenheit with an average temperature reading of 90 degrees and a scattering of 10 degrees in parts of the desert.

Libya,Iran,Death Valley,Africa, The Sahara Desert and the last remaining finalist returning after a brief retirement....Albany,Georgia. This challenger distributes the following current monthly chart of weather to the judges:

102,99,102,98,97,103,97,98,98,100,100,102,104,101,104,96,98,96,97,98,100,98,96,95,95,100,92. Those were the actual temperature readings in Albany for June 1-27,2011.

BAM!!! WE have a WINNER!!!!!!! Cue the music. There she is.... Hit that runway Albany! You are hot,hot,hot !! You  have no volcanoes or camels. This isn't a rainforest. There are no tropical monkeys. There are no ancient ruins being examined by archaeologists and Indiana Jones. You just have sizzling pavement and ongoing record-breaking heat.....and a crown and a sash and a scepter and a scholarship. What do you mean, there's no scholarship???????!!! WHAM!! POW!! CRASH !! BONK!! KAPOW!! BAM!! Look out for the crown !! Wow. That is going to leave a mark. It is never wise to anger a pageant contestant, especially in this heat...

Southern Comfort

The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself.----Mark Twain. People talk about how to feel comfortable in your own skin. Architects and dress-designers alike discuss combining comfort with function and appearance. The search for comfortable shoes is longer than the one for the meaning of life. When you look for a couch,chances are you are looking for a comfortable couch. The chair in your office needs to be comfortable. After work,you might want to slip into something more comfortable. I have heard that a comfortable saddle is important although I would argue that horseriding knowledge would make me more at ease. Comfortable jeans are great and comfortable genes are even greater. Becoming comfortable with yourself sounds like it would require yoga and a certain amount of flexibility but I could be mistaken. A comfortable silence describes an interruption in a conversation that does not result in anxiety or concern over what the other person is thinking. During that lapse in chatter,comfort food could be served although it clearly would not be needed. You want some order in your life and that can be achieved through a comfortable routine.  If Mary and Joseph had stopped at a Comfort Inn, there would have been a room and it would have been...wait for it...comfortable. I just returned from a beach trip where I spent alot of time holding my adorable three-year-old great-nephew in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. We laughed and rode waves and swallowed salt water. We gazed up at the bright blue sky every time the planes from Tyndall Air Force Base flew over us. We shared overly-dramatic exaggerated reactions to approaching waves. We laughed hysterically and ingested more of the Gulf before catching our collective breath and repeating the cycle. We looked for fish and reacted to minnows as if they were whales. We were out there so long, we could have found Nemo. We were out there so long, I thought I saw Nemo. The crashing waves slowed for a bit and the laughter was replaced with us holding each other and rolling gently with the calmer waves. We were in sync with the water. The motion was effortless. Zeke smiled and looked directly into my eyes and softly said: This is comfy.  And I agreed but apparently not convincingly. Then he said: I'm comfy. Are you comfy? When I assured him that I was, he grinned and just held on tighter. And so did I.

Atticus Finch and Bill Hambley

There is a scene in the 1962 classic movie To Kill A Mockingbird when Reverend Sykes says to Scout: Miss Jean Louise, Stand up. Your father is passing. The spectators in the courtroom balcony had great respect for Atticus. His unbiased and diligent pursuit of the truth and enthusiastic defense of Tom had earned their deepest respect. Atticus was a man to be respected and Reverend Sykes instructed Scout to convey that well-deserved respect to her father. It is a powerful cinematic moment.

I think of that scene often and when I do, I think of both Gregory Peck ( the actor who portrayed Atticus) and of my father. My dad was a man to be respected. He was a man of character. He stood up for what was good and right and true. He was intelligent and hard-working. He had a strong work ethic and a resolute set of morals and principles. He, like Atticus, went about his business in a quiet dignified manner. He was also a good listener. Patient and good-humored, you would  hear him whistling as he exited his car and walked up the sidewalk after work.

He was a man who smiled alot. He laughed. He played table tennis with the zeal of a child. The same with tennis. He loved to fish. He loved his wife. He had a happy joyous marriage filled with love and laughter. He loved his three daughters. He loved his grandchildren. He never raised his voice. That is not true. He raised his voice loudly at least once a week during football season when the University of Alabama was playing. But much like Atticus, he rarely raised his voice. He helped us with homework and pushed us on swings and saved us from ocean waves and imaginary monsters in the closet. He slaughtered incredibly large spiders. He grilled hamburgers and hot dogs for us. He painstakingly removed bones from the fish on our plate for us. He played board games and ball games with us. He was always waiting at the bottom of the big slide. He took us on family vacations to the Smoky Mountains and Disney World and Washington and Daytona Beach and Cypress Gardens. He would take us to Davis Brothers' Cafeteria after church and we could select what we wanted including the chocolate pudding with the whipped cream. He caught us whenever he possibly could but if we fell, he was always there to pick us up. He taught us to play card games and ride bicycles. The summer heat never prevented him from mowing the lawn or manning the ice cream churn. He was and remains our hero. He carried us on his shoulders both figuratively and literally. He taught us so much by his example. He treated people fairly. He did not discriminate or tolerate injustice. He was a gentleman through and through. He was generous and loving. He was compassionate. He was friendly. He was always there. His love was unconditional and constant. He was strong and he was gentle. I recently wrote about men who reflected class. My father defined the word. Men of his caliber are a rare breed. My dad was from the "greatest generation. He served in the Army Air Corps and was stationed in India in WWII. He was an engineer with J.I.Case and Lilliston Implement Company and Lilliston Corporation where he served as plant manager. I worked two summers at Lilliston Corporation and I saw the respect everyone had for my dad. (I can also now discuss peanut combines and cultivators with the best of them.) He was a selfless well-mannered man who was a member of Civitan ( a community service club) and thus worked at the concession booth at the annual fair. He also worked at telethons at the local television station and met celebrities including actors from The Virginian. These two things alone cemented his cool status. You have probably already processed what I didn't know until later. It wasn't until recently that I realized I had grown up in a Disney-like home. As parents go, I hit the jackpot. My father was simply the absolute best. He excelled as Daddy, Grandaddy and Uncle Bill. I am posting this recognition of my father in advance of father's day. On that day I will miss him and remember him. And if he were here and walked past me,you better believe I would be standing.

The Ipod Whisperer

For some illogical reason, I have become the recipient of friends' ipods whenever they misbehave.Well I know the reason. I am the never say die person. I cannot stand the thought of giving up and admitting defeat. I can beat the ipod. I think I can. I think I can.  I put them in timeout and eventually attempt to reason with them.  Typically before our session is over, I am begging the handheld device to please for the love of all that is good to cooperate and operate! My most recent patient is challenging on a new and disturbing level. The ipod sends an error message with a number that directs you to a manufacturer's message regarding that error number and similar error numbers. This message basically informs you that while this is a common error, we, the manufacturer, do not have a clue as to how to correct it. We do not want to tell you to toss it and buy another one. Rather instead we tell you to try various things including turning it on and off, toggling the hold button, turning itunes on and off, turning your computer on and off, holding your breath and counting backwards starting at twelve thousand and one... I made the last one up. But the directions were eerily close to the directions for the hokey pokey. When the owner of the "corrupted" ipod receives the error message for the hundredth time...the consumer should be directed toward a cyber hazmat team that will arrive in Ghostbuster fashion and exorcise the personal jukebox back to normality or in ipod terms, restore the device.  (When an ipod is restored, you do hear the hallelujah chorus coming from somewhere....) Our goal is to restore the device to its original factory settings and give the little guy another shot at high performance. A simple do-over. That is all that we are requesting. Instead of sound advice and yes the pun is intended, we receive instructions to slam down five energy drinks while simultaneously turning our computer on and off and singing the national anthem. I have yet to succeed in restoring this last ipod. The translation of my restoration of the other ipods is that they magically began working again. We love our ipods but we need real tech support. Until then, please rise for the singing of the national anthem.

I Miss New Orleans

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans? And miss it each night and day...I know I'm not wrong. The feeling's getting stronger...the longer I stay away....Those lyrics summed up my longing to re-visit New Orleans. I had not returned since Hurricane Katrina had struck in 2005.  But in early May,  I journeyed back to the city so often referenced in print and on film. I finally made it to Preservation Hall and was initiated into the blessed audiences who have listened to The Jazz Band of all jazz bands. I gazed at the beautiful ornate architecture found throughout this beloved city. Accompanied by close friends, I also made the trek to the once abandoned lower 9th ward. It was an emotional tour. You are overcome with appreciation for the re-building and apparent growth. And your heart sinks when you see an empty lot where a home once stood. You can almost hear the laughter and music that once filled the walls that no longer exist. Over four thousand homes were lost here. And you can almost hear the cries for help that seemed to be lost in the night. You see buildings that have the faded red markings from search/rescue crews. I saw evidence that one person stepped up to help in a big way. Actor Brad Pitt loves New Orleans and he reacted to the disaster with love and innovation. He created the Make It Right Foundation dedicated to helping to rebuild New Orleans' lower 9th ward. This foundation partnered with several architectural firms to design eco-friendly unique affordable homes. Their work is ongoing. I saw some of the homes and they look fantastic. This link will allow you to read more about this foundation and donate to the cause. http://www.makeitrightnola.org/ I saw the homes and the families and heard the sounds of the rebirth of the lower 9th ward. I also heard positive news about the musicians' village in the upper 9th ward and I include a link to their work as well. http://www.nolamusiciansvillage.org/ The main thing to know is that the work goes on. New Orleans stands tall but help is still needed. We see so much on constant televised news that we seem to react to a hurricane or tornado or tsunami and then the thought of it fades away and we move on. If you love New Orleans then keep loving it and show your love. Your visit will help them. Your donations will help them. They show their appreciation and gratitude. They have chosen to be grateful rather than bitter. They have risen above the floods. They have risen above the disappointment in how they were treated by other human beings. Drew Brees and The New Orleans Saints helped them rise. Brad Pitt and his Make It Right Foundation are helping them rise. Ellen Degeneres ,Steven Spielberg ,Oprah Winfrey, Harry Connick,Jr. and many other celebrities stepped up to the plate and gave and continue to give. I applaud them all. The seafood, muffalettas and beignets still taste great. There are enough fried oysters for everyone. The music is still the best. The art. The history. The buildings. The food. The people. Whether your New Orleans comes from the pages of a John Grisham,Tennesee Williams,William Faulkner or Anne Rice novel...it is calling you back. Maybe you have always wondered where Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler went while honeymooning in New Orleans. Countless films have shown us life in The Big Easy. Everyone has a favorite. My favorite is the real thing. You can watch an episode of Treme or you can sit on a streetcar and taste the hot sauce and smell the jambalaya. I am ready to return. It was the perfect place for a reunion. It is restorative. On Mother's Day, two female friends and I were touring the city and as we walked, we passed businessmen,street musicians,bellhops,chefs,strangers ...all men of New Orleans and without exception each one of them cheerfully wished us a happy mothers day. The friendliness and sense of community was there every day. People smiling. People making music. People laughing. People living. I miss it.  Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans...

Oprah's Odyssey Has Just Begun

Oh--oh--oh--Oprah. Overall she gave us GREAT television. Onions never made us cry as much as Oprah. Once or twice or a hundred times, my 87 year old mother has said: " I wish Oprah would adopt me". Other talk shows provide other things for us but none of them quite like Oprah. Our afternoons are now void of the anticipation of what today's show will bring. Old friends like Maria and Gayle let us listen in on their conversations and ride along on their road trips. Ostracized for her beef with the meat industry, Oprah stood tall and became stronger.  Only Oprah could bring us reunions with The Sound of Music and The Color Purple casts. Oceans were crossed with Oprah. Opening our hearts to hear Mattie Stepanek, Maya Angelou and other guests helped us to better our afternoons and ourselves. Over the years we came to know Suze,Mehmet,Phil, Nate,Peter, Cristina and Carson. Objects known as her favorite things took on mystical status. Opinions,laughter,tears and observations filled the Harpo studio each day. Occasions like her legends weekend made us wish we could honor our personal legends in like fashion. Overjoyed for her we were. Over-the-top gestures like cars for everyone in the audience made us happy for each recipient. Officially our voice she became. Obviously she has left her mark in television history and in our hearts. On to new adventures she must go.

Two And A Half Men

The following "class acts" blog will be about men. There are plenty of female class acts to write about and I shall write about them in the future. They are too high in number to list but I will hit as many of them as possible. The decision to write about men resulted from the onslaught of disappointments we have had in the news lately from men in the headlines. We have been collectively disappointed by politicians,athletes,actors,authors and others. The crimes have varied from infidelity, plagiarism,doping, racism, domestic-abuse, insider-trading, substance abuse, juvenile behavior and reckless conduct to habitual lying. These men have hurt their families,fans,constituents,readers and viewers. They will never again be trusted. They will never again be respected. They neither comprehend or possess integrity. Their excuses have fallen on deaf ears and their lack of responsibility has caused too much hurt. I have several examples of class acts,including my father,who are deceased but I will address two and a half living examples today.

Thankfully University of Georgia Head Football Coach Mark Richt lives in the very same world as the negative headline-grabbers and  he exhibits character and class. Today's headlines announce that he and his wife have sold their lake home. It was their collective decision motivated by their desire to give to those less fortunate. I could give you countless examples of times when Coach Richt took the high road. He encourages his players to give back. Coach Richt is also a family man. His family consists of his wife,three sons and one daughter. Two of their children are adopted from the Ukraine. His family reflects his philosophy about reaching out. He is in a constant state of giving. His attitude reflects one of sportsmanship. He would never laugh at an opponent's lack of athletic ability or ridicule another man for being moved to tears. He isn't that guy. He never forces his faith on you nor does he hesitate to talk about it if asked. His players know that he expects them to "finish the drill" both in the classroom and on the field.  As a graduate of the University of Georgia, I am honored that he is our coach and a leader for our student/athletes. He is respected throughout the conference and NCAA. We are so very fortunate to have a class act leading the Bulldog Nation. I am always honored to be in the same room with him at UGA meetings. There is no concern about what he might say or do. I know what class looks like. It looks like Mark Richt.

Frank is the father of three daughters and one son. He is the grandfather of ten delightful children. He has been married since 1965. It is now 2011 and yes,he has been faithfully married to the love of his life since 1965. He didn't take any breaks and re-find himself. He is a retired physician(Ob-Gyn) and served as a Senior Vice-President on a local hospital board for many years. He has the respect of his colleagues,peers,former patients and fellow community members. Frank has close friends and is never without time for them. He exhibits a discipline that reflects his strong faith and sense of ethics. He believes in hard work whether it be in the classroom or operating room and he conveys that belief to his family. It is his availability and presence that steer the ship that is his family. In familial roles including son,father,brother,husband,grandfather,father-in-law and uncle, he displays patience,love,respect and a quiet strength. It is evident that his family is his first priority. I know what class looks like. It looks like Frank.

The half man I refer to is the boy or young man any of us know. It is up to us to show them what it means to be a class act. I know several young men who are on the right path and show respect to others. They participate in charitable projects and exhibit kindness and compassion on a daily basis. They are sensitive to the needs and feelings of others and they would never use hurtful language or communicate bigotry or hate. They are avid readers and creative thinkers. They will make the world a better place. They know what class looks like because they have seen it.

There are several other men who come to mind as fine examples of what it means to be a class act. Rather than describe each of them, I will tell you what characteristics they share. Inevitably they put their family first. Family can include close friends or whomever you consider family. They are loyal. They are faithful. They are ever-present. Selfish is not in their vocabulary. They give of their time without hesitation. You can trust them. They know that once they have lost your trust they will never fully regain it and they treasure that trust. They are men who possess an inherent sense of integrity that you have seen grow though the years. They often have a handy sense of humor and a strong work ethic. They are not only classy but fun to be around.

I know what class looks like. I just don't see enough of it around. Fear not America. They exist. The true class acts do not see themselves as the exception. Sadly, they are. Let's join together and see what we can do to change that. Only then will we be winning.

Mother's Day Has Come And Gone Too Quickly

Mother's Day has come and gone. Therein lies the problem. For 24 hours we celebrate our moms with the regal attention they deserve. We thank them for all things great and small they have given to us throughout our lives. We thank them for what they have done for us. It is always about us. On Mother's Day we give them much more attention than most other days. We may or may not actually plan in advance and purchase special cards and gifts and have them delivered in a timely manner. I am happy to report that I planned in advance. It is a lesson I learned from my mother. She is the most generous individual I have ever known. Her generosity is not saved for special holidays. She is in a constant state of giving. She possesses a strong work ethic and amazing sense of humor. She is a member of the greatest generation. She works hard and never complains. Her unconditional love is something to be relied upon and treasured. She was an unbelievably loving wife and daughter. She is the matriarch of our family and reigns in that role with the strength,love,compassion,intellect and humor that I witnessed in her mother. As much as she loved Bear Bryant, I assume she will approve if I call her a Mama Bear. I thought her love of her children was insurmountable  and it is. But her love of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren is a thing to behold. To simply say that she loves all of us is an understatement. She holds the title of second-mom and adopted mom to many. She is the favorite aunt,cousin,neighbor,relative and mentor to others. She has worked in many positions from her first job at a drugstore in Birmingham,Alabama to her work during WWII in Birmingham plants initially at Rheem on a war project working with oily messy shell casings to her next position at the Bechtel-McCone airplane modification plant in the same city. She worked there on the B29 superfortress bombers pulling out substandard non-fireproof wiring from the planes. This work at these plants by women including my mother resulted in the nickname: Rosie the Riveter. She worked in many other jobs including her managing and directing of the college bookstore for decades. But no job was messier,harder or more challenging than that of mother. Nor did she love any job more. She still does. She never complains. She asks for little and deserves much. She is and has always been a good and true friend. She is a wonderful confidante to many. She is loyal and attentive. She is fun. She loves a good road trip. She loves to read,travel and learn. She is a life-long learner. She loves to watch the University of Alabama play football. She loves cats especially her current companion,Sparky. She makes a killer Lane Cake and chicken salad and fried chicken and...the list goes on and on. She is truly religious in the most private, personal and nonjudgmental way. She is a person of tremendous faith who lives by example. She loves movies and television shows and conversations. She loves her hometown of Guin,Alabama and her home state of Alabama and her home in Albany,Georgia. I love to hear her laugh and she loves to laugh. She is my friend. She has my respect,admiration and love. I celebrate her every day.

Bama, Bucklebury and Birthday Blessings

The recent tornadoes devastated the south. Six states were hit hard. At least 326 people were killed.  My home state of Georgia lost lives and suffered tremendous damage. Love and prayers to the victims and survivors of this destruction in those six states and all others that were hit by the storms. Alabama was hit the hardest. University of Alabama students preparing for final exams and upcoming graduation were caught in the path of this horrific storm along with non-student residents of Tuscaloosa. Lives were lost and lives were forever changed. Neighbors here were phoned to check on their adult kids and grandkids in Tuscaloosa. And I just about put out an all points bulletin on one friend's son. Clearly caffeine and the weather channel are a dangerous combination. My mother was born in Marion County, Alabama and that county has 21 dead and 20 missing. But another report lists 29 dead in Hackleburg and 6 in Hamilton. (Therein lies a problem. They still do not know who is missing in so many of these hard-hit areas. An accurate count may not be possible for days to come.) These small towns neighbor Guin, Alabama where my mom was born. Bridgeport suffered damage and it is a neighbor to Stevenson where my father was born. I could list many towns and cities in Alabama but they are,in fact,all neighbors to someone. I watched the twister come through Birmingham on television and began to wonder about my grandparents' old home and landmarks throughout the city. I wondered about cousins too and I called and texted and facebooked. Social networking was successful in this storm. Prayers were said for Rabun County, Georgia and Jackson County, Alabama and Tuscaloosa and Ringgold and the list grew and grew. The heartbreak continues as do the prayers. If you want to give a shout-out to Bama students...hit them with a RTR ( Roll Tide Roll) on your facebook status. You can also give to The American Red Cross. We are fortunate to have doppler radar and the weather channel and warning sirens and phone calls. Heed these warnings. Oh and RTR !

Every bit of minutia that could be judged in regard to the royal wedding was put under a microscope and dissected. A reminder that it WAS Kate and William's wedding so all that mattered was what THEY wanted. I'll say it again. It was Kate and William's wedding. One of the non-news items that received enormous press coverage was the wedding invitation issued to John Haley. He owns and runs The Old Boot Inn in Bucklebury in Berkshire. Kate and William enjoy going to this pub. The pub is in Kate's home town. He seems like a fine bloke. Imagine that. They invited a friend to the wedding. He has not been seen running around with a fascinator on his head . He has not tried to exploit his relationship with the famous patrons of his pub. He seems very friendly and nice. They invited him to their wedding. I feel good about Kate and William. They are quite a beautiful couple. Long live Kate and William and John Haley.

Another birthday has come and gone but the celebration continues. Friends and family have called, written, texted, facebooked, toasted and hugged me. The gift of friendship is a priceless one and one that I do not take for granted. Friends dined with me at many meals throughout the week with more to come through next weekend. Taking time to sit and share a meal and have a conversation is indeed a gift. Fish tacos,baked oysters,steamed shrimp and crab all found their way into the birthday celebration. Good friends,good food and breathtaking sunsets. And laughter...always laughter. A year ago the Gulf of Mexico was in dire straits as a result of the BP oil spill but clear gorgeous water and pure white sands were the backdrop for the party. In fact Mexico Beach never showed signs of damage to this pristine treasure. Yes, I have been blessed.

(*Killer Seafood grouper tacos and key lime pie are a blessing unto themselves. Another gift is the friends I have found there and the place I go "where everybody knows your name". My gift to you is to tell you of this special place and invite you to join the Killer family on Highway 98 in Mexico Beach,Florida.)

Can You Hear Me Now?

Each Easter several disturbing traditions arrive as the painted eggs roll onto the lawns. Some overly competitive adults actually try to hide the eggs in places impossible for small children to see or reach. Seriously? Your own sports dreams fizzled out so you are going to compensate by "beating" a child in an Easter egg hunt. A couch and a therapist await you. Adults also  purchase fragile little chicks and furry little bunnies to pose with caffeinated/medicated children in sugar-induced comas. They also present these innocent creatures as gifts in baskets with pink and green plastic grass. The animals have done nothing to provoke such cruelty and yet they are sacrificed for the momentary pleasure of the youngsters. The curiousity and fascination with the springtime creatures passes quickly as the tikes realize that the animals are unarmed and do not transform into any sort of weapon. Meanwhile another sacrifice is taking place at the hands of children and adults alike. Chocolate bunnies are suffering the painful and inexplicable loss of their ears. Poachers disguised as family members clad in pastels,casually rip the ears from the defenseless hares. Once the ear removal is complete,the bunnies have no chance of hearing the predators when they return for round two. Other bunnies try in vain to warn them but they cannot hear the alarms. It is a sad thing to see. A basket with a few cracked colorful eggs,cushioned by totally unrealistic plastic grass of many colors,surrounded by an earless chocolate rabbit and a few peeps. Ending this madness begins with each of us. There are enough peanut butter and chocolate eggs for us all. Let the bunnies live. We can hear their joyful hippity hop hop hop. But can they? Can they?