One cannot turn on a TV, radio, or read anything that doesn’t expound the gloom and doom that our country faces; frankly, because misery loves company. Nothing was ever made better, no problem was ever solved by repeating over and over again how dire one’s circumstances are. Uncle Bubba shared an interesting perspective with me stating that these are the Dark Ages; adding that we have to realize where we are before we can map out where we want to go. He points to specific examples that I hadn’t recognized until he mentioned them. The best that the big three American auto makers can come up with for “innovative” design is to remake modern versions of classic muscle cars; the Ford Mustang, the Chevy Camaro, the Dodge Charger and Challenger. Of course we know they are preying on the aging baby-boomers whim for their youth; but if we look a little deeper, we see that they have proven that as innovators, this is the best that they can do. Come on, since the mid seventies we’ve known that these cars, any gasoline powered car would quickly become a dinosaur. This is the same generation that grew up watching The Jetsons. We are supposed to be riding around in hydrogen powered bubble jets by now.
This is but one example and in Bubbie’s view, here is the core issue. This Dark Age is exactly like the original period of cultural decline or societal collapse that took place in Western Europe between the fall of Rome and the eventual recovery of learning. The reason is that we have too much technologic information. Technology, especially computerized calculation of data has sped up time so that time is traveling faster than the human bio-rhythm of life so our best minds are working slower than even the potential of the current technology. It is going to take a renaissance in thinking to propel us to reach the potential that we all know exists. We cannot repeat the same old tired pattens and expect something new to come of it; that’s insanity. We need to stop resting on the laurels of smaller faster PCs and cells phones that do crazy, but useless things, and increase the quality of our lives across the board while saving money and the environment. We need to achieve the dreams of our dreams; where the light is.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Some New News
In Bubbie’s view, its time to get back to some basics. In particular, we need to turn off the news and get back to work. If we look up the definition of news in the dictionary we find that it is nothing more than a report of recent events and previously unknown information. The thing that strikes Bubbie is that it doesn’t say anything about reporting facts. So without fact, news can be a lie. Through technology, we have developed a non stop inundation of news, which has turned into machines of propaganda. Have you noticed that it’s everywhere? One can hardly go to a restaurant or even the gym without a 24 hour news channel piping in the propaganda.
Here’s the thing, there was a time when a man needed to know the weather and knew how to read the signs in nature. A few short moments were spent reading the newspaper because there was work to do, which by the way included making sure one’s neighbor was OK as well. Remember the first bit of news? The good news, the gospel; the news we were supposed to read and share.
So in Bubbie’s view it is time to start anew. Take the energy expended in worry, perpetuated by the news, and put it to work. Turn off the unceasing TVs and get busy.
Here’s the thing, there was a time when a man needed to know the weather and knew how to read the signs in nature. A few short moments were spent reading the newspaper because there was work to do, which by the way included making sure one’s neighbor was OK as well. Remember the first bit of news? The good news, the gospel; the news we were supposed to read and share.
So in Bubbie’s view it is time to start anew. Take the energy expended in worry, perpetuated by the news, and put it to work. Turn off the unceasing TVs and get busy.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Bubbie Memoirs - Uncle Gary
Memoirs are but a window shade that is drawn back just far enough to peer in and glimpse experiences, circumstances and relationships that influence one’s life. Recently Bubbie shared some memories with me that were too relevant to his life not to write down. He laughed raucously as he regaled tales of Uncle Gary. Uncle Gary is Sweet Pea’s uncle; her father’s younger brother, the middle of three sons. But for some years he was Bubbie’s close compadre and traveling buddy. Bubbie was in his twenties then. A time when he was living, existing, fighting, struggling, and yet enjoying the many of life’s moments. Don’t we all think we know it all in our twenties only to grow and know that we are so young, so inexperienced yet so alive. Uncle Gary was ten years older and that much wiser than Bubbie, or so Bubbie thought.
Uncle Gary liked his beer; Budweiser his preference. He also loved to cook out on his kettle grill and many a Sunday was spent in his backyard tending a slow cooking brisket, swapping stories, and sipping a cold beer. Between drags on his cigarette and sips of Bud, he’d lift the lid of the grill and throw a handful of pecan shells in the coals for some smokey flavor. This was so well choreographed that it was invisible to the untrained eye because the air was alive with his non stop spinning of hilarious tales that he always swore was the “gospel truth”. He’d recall how Sweet Pea’s daddy, Butch, made him smoke cigarettes they stole at 7 years of age. They took then from home and the only way he could stop Gary from squealing was to make him smoke them too. Then there was the time at about the same age, that Lowell Baldwin run over him with a tractor. Yep, it run right over his stomach and if the ground hadn’t been soft beneath him, it’d a killed him. Bubbie and Uncle Gary made many tales of their own. They had an agreement that they go into the beer drinkin’ business and occasionally finish drywall on their days off. Uncle Gary could tape and bed three coats of drywall mud as glassy smooth as Michael Angelo polished marble. He’d bark at Bubbie, “ Just dust the sander boy, don’t sand it hollow!” and then he’d half laugh, half bluster as he told of all the times he had to fix some laborer’s overly profuse, ignorant mistakes. He was a true craftsman and took pride in it, and wouldn’t mind telling you as much. On occasion Bubbie found Uncle Gary’s arrogance tiresome, but more often it’d make him laugh. Bubbie always figured and man that doesn't have much needs something to hang his hat on. Uncle Gary didn’t have much. Outside of his family--his wife, and four beautiful daughters--a few constants were his drywall finishing skill, an old truck, his drywall tools and his golf clubs.
Uncle Gary idolized his older brother Butch, but he could never reconcile Butch’s propensity for meanness. Gary was a friend, not a fighter; Butch was the opposite. Gary marveled at what he saw as Butch’s ability to manipulate people, “just like Tom Sawyer”. Nevertheless, Gary tried in vain to emulate is big brother through imitation. Bubbie recalled a morning when they were headed to work. As usual, Uncle Gary rolled up to a waiting Bubbie and he’d jump in, anxious to start the day. True to form, Uncle Gary, puffing on a Marlboro cigarette, regaled him with the events of the previous evening as he navigated the old tuck about a 30 mile ride through the winding, 2 lane country roads and rolling hills towards Ithaca, NY. His brother-in-law, Todd, had come by and Gary was exceptionally proud of himself in that he convinced Todd to change the brake pads on his truck. Convincing Todd was always as easy as handing him a cold beer and complimenting his mechanical abilities. Next thing you know he is covered in black grease, buried up under the wheel-well of the flimsily jacked vehicle with Gary standing, watching over his shoulder, coaching and keeping the cold beer readily on hand.
Bubbie and Uncle Gary were finishing drywall in housing units for Ithaca College students. As Uncle Gary spun his tales, they made their way through the early morning light to Route 96B which waves along the high hilltops before diving deep down a long, long, steep, straight grade into the town of Ithaca. There was an intersection and convenient store about half way down the hill that they stopped at for a morning coffee and to fill the cooler with Budweiser and ice for the trip home. As they neared their turn, Uncle Gary pressed firmly on the binders. From under the front end came an awful whirring sound that grew as he stood harder on the brake pedal. They slowed some, but passed right on by the intersection! His thigh muscles pulsed as he pumped the brake pedal harder and harder; Bubbie could hear Uncle Gary choke back the panic in his voice as he cursed Todd. Finally the old truck, whirring and squalling, whoa’d at the bottom of the hill just short of running out of road and near catastrophe! Uncle Gary turned and made it all the way back up the steep grade without a word; as if it was just business as usual. Bubbie held his laughter as Uncle Gary glided her to a stop in the small parking lot of the Jiffy store. Trying to keep a serious face he slipped out of the passenger side door and took a look at the front calipers.
“Oh my God!” declared Bubbie, “The pads are on backwards! He’s got metal on metal and the pad against the piston!”
I knew I shouldn’t have taken my eye off of him,” Gary ranted, “ I only went inside for no more than a minute to use the John!”
It was a few hours and a few beers later by the time Uncle Gary cooled down enough to talk about anything else but what an idiot his idiot brother-in-law was. Bubbie offered to help him fix the problem when they returned home, but Gary grumbled, “Naw, I’m gonna make Todd do it.” as he drove off.
A few days had passed before Bubbie saw Uncle Gary again. A man sometimes needs a few days to get his dignity back after a big event. Bubbie figured he need a cooling off period and little was said about the incident for a long while... until Gary could laugh about it himself. The triumph of it was that he could. Uncle Gary taught Bubbie so many valuable lessons in life, often what not to do, but lessons none the less.
Bubbie has so many fond memories of Uncle Gary and other characters that filled his life with love and laughter. I’ll do my best to share more of his memoirs in the future.
Uncle Gary liked his beer; Budweiser his preference. He also loved to cook out on his kettle grill and many a Sunday was spent in his backyard tending a slow cooking brisket, swapping stories, and sipping a cold beer. Between drags on his cigarette and sips of Bud, he’d lift the lid of the grill and throw a handful of pecan shells in the coals for some smokey flavor. This was so well choreographed that it was invisible to the untrained eye because the air was alive with his non stop spinning of hilarious tales that he always swore was the “gospel truth”. He’d recall how Sweet Pea’s daddy, Butch, made him smoke cigarettes they stole at 7 years of age. They took then from home and the only way he could stop Gary from squealing was to make him smoke them too. Then there was the time at about the same age, that Lowell Baldwin run over him with a tractor. Yep, it run right over his stomach and if the ground hadn’t been soft beneath him, it’d a killed him. Bubbie and Uncle Gary made many tales of their own. They had an agreement that they go into the beer drinkin’ business and occasionally finish drywall on their days off. Uncle Gary could tape and bed three coats of drywall mud as glassy smooth as Michael Angelo polished marble. He’d bark at Bubbie, “ Just dust the sander boy, don’t sand it hollow!” and then he’d half laugh, half bluster as he told of all the times he had to fix some laborer’s overly profuse, ignorant mistakes. He was a true craftsman and took pride in it, and wouldn’t mind telling you as much. On occasion Bubbie found Uncle Gary’s arrogance tiresome, but more often it’d make him laugh. Bubbie always figured and man that doesn't have much needs something to hang his hat on. Uncle Gary didn’t have much. Outside of his family--his wife, and four beautiful daughters--a few constants were his drywall finishing skill, an old truck, his drywall tools and his golf clubs.
Uncle Gary idolized his older brother Butch, but he could never reconcile Butch’s propensity for meanness. Gary was a friend, not a fighter; Butch was the opposite. Gary marveled at what he saw as Butch’s ability to manipulate people, “just like Tom Sawyer”. Nevertheless, Gary tried in vain to emulate is big brother through imitation. Bubbie recalled a morning when they were headed to work. As usual, Uncle Gary rolled up to a waiting Bubbie and he’d jump in, anxious to start the day. True to form, Uncle Gary, puffing on a Marlboro cigarette, regaled him with the events of the previous evening as he navigated the old tuck about a 30 mile ride through the winding, 2 lane country roads and rolling hills towards Ithaca, NY. His brother-in-law, Todd, had come by and Gary was exceptionally proud of himself in that he convinced Todd to change the brake pads on his truck. Convincing Todd was always as easy as handing him a cold beer and complimenting his mechanical abilities. Next thing you know he is covered in black grease, buried up under the wheel-well of the flimsily jacked vehicle with Gary standing, watching over his shoulder, coaching and keeping the cold beer readily on hand.
Bubbie and Uncle Gary were finishing drywall in housing units for Ithaca College students. As Uncle Gary spun his tales, they made their way through the early morning light to Route 96B which waves along the high hilltops before diving deep down a long, long, steep, straight grade into the town of Ithaca. There was an intersection and convenient store about half way down the hill that they stopped at for a morning coffee and to fill the cooler with Budweiser and ice for the trip home. As they neared their turn, Uncle Gary pressed firmly on the binders. From under the front end came an awful whirring sound that grew as he stood harder on the brake pedal. They slowed some, but passed right on by the intersection! His thigh muscles pulsed as he pumped the brake pedal harder and harder; Bubbie could hear Uncle Gary choke back the panic in his voice as he cursed Todd. Finally the old truck, whirring and squalling, whoa’d at the bottom of the hill just short of running out of road and near catastrophe! Uncle Gary turned and made it all the way back up the steep grade without a word; as if it was just business as usual. Bubbie held his laughter as Uncle Gary glided her to a stop in the small parking lot of the Jiffy store. Trying to keep a serious face he slipped out of the passenger side door and took a look at the front calipers.
“Oh my God!” declared Bubbie, “The pads are on backwards! He’s got metal on metal and the pad against the piston!”
I knew I shouldn’t have taken my eye off of him,” Gary ranted, “ I only went inside for no more than a minute to use the John!”
It was a few hours and a few beers later by the time Uncle Gary cooled down enough to talk about anything else but what an idiot his idiot brother-in-law was. Bubbie offered to help him fix the problem when they returned home, but Gary grumbled, “Naw, I’m gonna make Todd do it.” as he drove off.
A few days had passed before Bubbie saw Uncle Gary again. A man sometimes needs a few days to get his dignity back after a big event. Bubbie figured he need a cooling off period and little was said about the incident for a long while... until Gary could laugh about it himself. The triumph of it was that he could. Uncle Gary taught Bubbie so many valuable lessons in life, often what not to do, but lessons none the less.
Bubbie has so many fond memories of Uncle Gary and other characters that filled his life with love and laughter. I’ll do my best to share more of his memoirs in the future.
Friday, February 06, 2009
God Bless Billy Powell
God bless you Billy Powell. You became a roadie for Lynyrd Skynyrd in 1970, eventually promoted to keyboardist and a full fledged member of the band. What a life, you played on some of the best Southern Rock recordings ever made, you survived a plane crash... a plane crash in McComb, Mississippi in 1977! And you were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2006. So many accomplishments for a young man taken from this earth at age 56. Rest in peace and tell Ronnie, Steve, Alan, Cassie and Dean we miss them all, and keep rockin’! God bless you Billy Powell. You brought me great happiness and contributed to the theme song of my life.
God speed!
Monday, February 02, 2009
Another Stuper Bowl
What can one say about yet another Stuper Bowl? Sure, it satisfies the need for greed in a few overbearing rich dudes. It’s sometimes even entertaining, sometimes. However it, as NASCAR, has reached the point of no return. The show is bigger than the event; like eating chicken broth from a gold plated tureen. The NFL quite successfully stages the façade to presume that the “game” is for everyone, but it’s not. It’s only, and has always been only for the fans of the teams competing. But for the rest of us, it’s as good a reason as any to have a party.
In Bubbie’s view, some of the funny things include the players introducing themselves. Yep, these fellas obviously get paid too much money for beating people up. I’m sure the dean of UNC was proud of his former student declaring he played at the University of NORF Carolina! Or that skinny little number 10 that plays for the Pittsburgh Steelers declaring that he always wanted to be a super star, and now he is one. Hmmm… a little pretentious? But it was a good game, sure to be declared one of the greatest, but then aren’t they all? Bubbie says that with that kinda hype up front, it’s sure to lead to a pile of bull left behind.
In Bubbie’s view, some of the funny things include the players introducing themselves. Yep, these fellas obviously get paid too much money for beating people up. I’m sure the dean of UNC was proud of his former student declaring he played at the University of NORF Carolina! Or that skinny little number 10 that plays for the Pittsburgh Steelers declaring that he always wanted to be a super star, and now he is one. Hmmm… a little pretentious? But it was a good game, sure to be declared one of the greatest, but then aren’t they all? Bubbie says that with that kinda hype up front, it’s sure to lead to a pile of bull left behind.
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