Bass Fishing Jersey Style

Uncle Bubba has been plumb bumfuzzled with the state of New Jersey. Much of the little state is not the industrial, urban cesspool that he always imagined it to be. West and central Jersey, away from the shore is rural but crowded. He has driven many miles inside of the state and explored many parks and wildlife management areas and has had a difficult time trying to find a place where he can be alone. You couldn't swing a dead cat without hittin' one of 'em. The folks here are nice enough, even quite friendly; but there seems to be so doggone many of them. Bubbie and many of his friends call 'em Yankees, and rightfully so. But there's something that transcends Yankees and Rebs, something that sadly shines an ugly light on all of us and reflects back onto our society; it's littering. Uncle Bubba has spent a fair amount of time in many states of this land and has found a common thread the is insidious and disturbing. He has had to wade through garbage to get to the water's edge to cast a fishing line. The cretins that leave their trash where they stand are nothing but immoral. They are the antithesis of a sportsman. How can one spend time in nature, enjoying it's beauty, it's bounty only to leave it some much worse off than when they arrived and rob the next person of the same wondrous experience that they have enjoyed? I mean, maybe the wheels still turning, but the hamster's dead.

 











Here is a photo of a six pack of empty beers. When Bubbie's see this scene, which he has more times than you can shake a stick at, he always wonders why the natural idiot that carries it in full can't carry it out when it's empty, i.e. LIGHTER!




In Bubbie's view, for a state that is taking in the neighborhood of $250 million in taxpayers' money to cleanup from Super Storm Sandy, you'd think that they'd take a little more pride in their homegrown trashing of their state.

Guns

Uncle Bubba has heard some stupid arguments in his day, but the one that's been going 'round lately has got to take the cake. In the debate over gun ownership, the anti-gun argument is, "what's the big deal about registering firearms, you have to register your car." Really? Why do you have to register your car?

In a supposed free society there seems to Bubbie that there's only two reasons to register anything, the first being money and the second to allow the government to track you. When you own something the government wants their piece. You pay taxes when you purchase it and then a registration fee, and/or renewal fees. If you are a live and let live, free, honest citizen of the United States; why do you need to be tracked? In Bubbie's view, while thinking of the list of things that y'all must register, ask yourself why?

Vehicles
Owning dogs and cats
Owning livestock
Getting married
Having a baby
Going fishing
Going boating
Owning a corporation
Owning land
Being a lobbyist

Dysfunction Junction What's Your Function

Uncle Bubba sips his coffee and gazes out the window of a diner. It sits at the corner of a busy intersection in Toms River New Jersey. The brilliant sunshine does little to warm the cold air as it reflects off of the diner's chrome exterior. Uncle Bubba can feel the cold on his left arm and shoulder that's nearest the window. It's oversized pane of glass is nearly as transparent to temperature as it is to its view. There's a "plink" as Bubbie rests his coffee cup back down on upon its saucer. Like a well timed miniature diner bell it seemed natural that the waitress then approaches to take his order. She's pleasant and plays her role perfectly and he thought that she must because she's undoubtedly practiced it thousands of times. As she parts to go place his order they are genuinely smiling at each other.

Bubbie turns his attention back to the scenes outside the diner. The traffic passes hurriedly, the far lane hidden by an ever present and continual concrete barrier. They also use chain-link fencing to divide the roadways and one cannot turn left from the left lane in many cases. You have to turn right from the right lane and enter what they call a "jug handle" which is a side road, like an exit ramp on a major highway. This poses an irritating dilemma for a driver that is not from the area because one must know prior to reaching an intersection if they need to be in the left lane to turn left, or three lanes over to turn right from the right lane to turn left. If you see a sign that says "All Turns" with an arrow to the right, then you know that you have to use a jug handle to turn left but beware, it may be before the intersection or right after meaning that you must drive thru the intersection that you want to turn left at before entering the jug handle and circling back around.

If that isn't frustrating enough, a jug handle may be next to a driveway of a plaza or even another, separate road intersection so in the bustle of trying to maneuver in traffic and not get in a wreck, you may inadvertently miss the jug handle turn and wind up heading off in a direction that is opposite of where you want to be heading. If this is the case, then good luck making it back to your original intersection to get back on track. Bubbie is sure that to the locals, this is nothing. But to the uninitiated and unfamiliar it's a dysfunctional and confusing affair. Being a visitor, Uncle Bubba realizes that it's their way and as odd as it all seems, it's not going to change. In Bubbie's view, it just reinforces his happiness to live in the south where many of the roads may be dirt and gravel but they lead to where a body wants to go.

The Pope of New Jersey

Uncle Bubba has been working in New Jersey where the mornings are clear and cold and it seems as thought the wind never stops blowing. On the way to work he stops at a McDonalds to get coffee and there's no drive thru so he parks and leaves the warm comfort of his cozy carseat and walks in. One particular cold morning, as he walked back out to his vehicle with hot coffee in hand, he noticed white smoke coming from a chimney that looked similar in shape to the one at the Vatican and he laughingly thought, "Hey, they must have elected a new pope!" Little did he know that that day they had!

Another Freakin Walmart?!

If you like Walmart, you probably won't like what Uncle Bubba told me about recently. In the small town that Uncle Bubba lives in, there used to be a small Walmart store. It was built in the early '90s and it accommodated the size of the community; it didn't sell groceries but it did have a decent fishing and outdoor sporting department. About a half mile away was a nice grocery store. It was very conveniently located and carried good quality items at very reasonable prices. Both places were always busy and most folks in the town seemed to be contented with the local options that each place offered. The people that worked at each store were regular, steady people from the same community so going to the store was as much a social affair as shopping; you knew the cashiers and the people that worked in various departments and the high school students that worked there after school. Each of these stores were in plaza's with other retail businesses and restaurants doing business right along side of the big chain stores.

Then the Walmart Corporation decided that they needed to build a new store 5 miles away from the little old Walmart store near the center of town. This new store isn't an enormous super center but it does sell groceries. Of course building the new store on the edge of town left the old store building in the center of town vacant. It's a depressing eyesore, and now several of the other business that shared the plaza have given up and gone out of business now that the customer traffic has disappeared. Now the previously mentioned, nice grocery store has closed. To quote one of the former employees, "Once the new Walmart opened our business just died." So now there is another vacancy of a big storefront and another big, empty parking lot that's left a scar on the community. And worse, those regular, steady people that live in the community are out of work.

Now that the new Walmart store is on the edge of town, what used to be a two mile round trip is now a ten mile round trip. As with any Walmart shopping experience, one never truly gets what one wants but has to settle for what Walmart offers. In Bubbie's view, we've done it to ourselves. Walmart may spread like a virus across every landscape but we've infected ourselves with our own bad behavior. All we had to do, and have to do is stop shopping there, which may mean that you won't be able to wear your pajamas to the store.

Yeah... don't think we'll ever get those people on board.

On The Road Again

Uncle Bubba is on the road again. He's traveling for work. He got called out on another job assignment out of town. This job that he has is a job that he never really wanted at this point in life, he just kind of fell into it. It's very early in the morning, he was up quite a few hours before dawn. It's still dark. As he drives along the countryside on the two-lane byways, every so often he passes a little house; the moonlight and headlights reveal it in the purple shadows, maybe a night light is on shining dimly through a curtained window. He imagines the folks inside still fast asleep; wrapped in the comfort of their own little universe. He wishes he was still home fast asleep, at least still lying next to Sweet Pea, holding her tight. But he's on the road because he's a man. For centuries, being a man meant living a life of virtue and excellence. Uncle Bubba is of that lineage. Sure, he'd like to get away from this job, it's his intention, but for now he has a job to do; primarily it all leads back to taking care of Sweet Pea. He desires getting a new job that affords him the ability to stay home and not be on the road for weeks and months at a time; to live in his home and be there every night, to enjoy his home and his family and friends on the weekends. What good is his Harley or his fishing boat if he's not even home to use them? Most importantly, he is no longer willing to compromise his commitment to spending every moment with his wife, Sweet Pea. As they say, no one ever gets to the end of their life with regrets of not having spent more time at work and less time with the one they love. This job has served him in these unstable times in America. It pays the bills and has benefits. And to be vested into those benefits he has to keep working a few more months. And it's like Bubbie to see things through. It's important to him to get to the end and say that he did it. He's come this far. Bubbie is a man and to be a man is to be a person that sees things thru to the end. It takes courage, it takes strength. In Bubbie's view, hopefully one day someone that really enjoys being on the road drives by Bubbie's home in the middle of the night and the night light will glow in the window, and Uncle Bubba will be contentedly sleeping next to Sweet Pea holding her close.

B&Bs, A Step Back In Time

After spending an evening at Uncle Bubba's with he and McFisher swapping stories, one simple yarn lead to one of Uncle Bubba's theories that McFisher insisted that I add here. I'll tell you all about it as Uncle Bubba had put it across to us. Uncle Bubba was busily tying up loose ends around the house as Sweet Pea packed for an over night trip. He grabbed the bags and they looked around the house one last time before walking out and locking the door behind them. They were going to stay at a bed & breakfast, which neither one had ever done. It was a matter of convenience as it was close to an event that they would be attending the next day and it was less expensive than the hotels in the area. After a scenic drive through the country along pastoral byways they pulled up in front of the bed & breakfast. It was an old two story house designed by the Frank Lloyd Wright feller. That means something to someone but Uncle Bubba couldn't remember what or who. Anyway, he parked and sat as Sweet Pea pulled herself together as a women is prone to do and then they made their way to up onto the front porch and stood at the heavy wooden framed glass door. On the other side of the door a wide wooden staircase climbed a long way up and Bubbie wondered if anyone would know if they had arrived. He was unsure if he should knock or just walk in, but his Southern manners called for him to knock.

Upon no answer he waited what he felt was a respectful length of time before entering. He and Sweet Pea entered the foyer and stood quietly waiting, looking about the place and admiring its quaint, old fashioned beauty. The front door opened behind them and the owner stepped in and apologized as he was working outside and had missed them. After a quick introduction he led them back to the rear of the first floor, down a narrow hallway to their room. Sweet Pea and Bubbie stepped into the room to find that it was actually a suite. They were standing in a small kitchen. There was a large bedroom and bathroom through another doorway and an open sitting area on the opposite side of the suite. The owner briefly explained the keys and the entrances to the house and then excused himself for the evening. Uncle Bubba made a trip out to retrieve their bags as Sweet Pea investigated the room; it met all of her expectations.

After an evening of walking around the lake, watching the swans and ducks they walked through the residential streets lined with more Wright bungalows canopied by gargantuan oaks. They had a great dinner out on the patio of a little restaurant while listening to two musicians played drums and an acoustic guitar in a corner. They walked back to the B&B to retire for the night and Uncle Bubba was glad to flop on the bed to end a great day. Sweet Pea was busily getting ready for bed, the way women do, and Bubbie mentioned that he could hear people talking above, or perhaps it was a TV. Sure enough, people were walking around and the ceiling creaked and groaned above their heads. It was quaint in a way, for a while. But as Bubbie tried to doze off to sleep the gibbering mumble coming down through the ceiling grew increasingly annoying. He tossed and turned until he finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Sweet Pea was up early while Bubbie laid in bed. He said, "Darlin', I reckon I can hear someone snoring!" He laid there listening to the sounds of the house and pondered a notion that came into his mind. Those old houses are noisy, they weren't built with sound proofing in mind. It got him thinking about how living conditions and the lack of sound proofing may have forced people into a social contract to try to be quieter so as not to disturb their neighbors. This may have been the case back in those days, prior to the development of suburbia and quieter hotel rooms. With isolation we didn't have to be so concerned with disturbing the neighbors (thus the expression, no one knows what goes on behind closed doors) and the social contract is forgotten. Over time, that forgotten contract (and other factors) gives way to, "I can do and say whatever I want to and if you don't like it, don't listen!" The idea of being politely quiet for the sake of the neighbors and the shame of airing things in public is lost. So now when you stay in a quaint old hotel, people walk and talk as if they are the only ones in the place. Or when you live in an apartment the same is true as you know. It's just another one of Bubbie's crazy theories, but he reckoned that it has merit. So to him it isn't a stretch that under the same loss of contract, parents don't isolate their crap from their kids. They carry on around them and in front of them, which teaches children that this kind of behavior is acceptable. In Bubbie's view, living in this age of accelerated progress affords us a realtime view that progress is not necessarily good if we'll just take a moment to stop and look at it. Progress without thought of all consequences is like letting go of a trapeze handle and then looking down to see if anyone put up the safety net.

Mr. Martin Was The Man!

Uncle Bubba got the sad news that a very special person in his life had succumbed to cancer. It had been a long time since he'd seen the man, yet he was quite often in Bubbie's ear imparting wisdom by way of vignettes told in his childhood for he was a mentor to Uncle Bubba as a boy. Mr. Martin was little Bubbie's Webelos Scout Leader and then the Assistant Scout Master in Boy Scout Troop 234. For the uninitiated, a Webelo Scout is one step above a Cub Scout and not yet old enough to be a Boy Scout; usually for 4th and 5th graders. So it's fair to say that Mr. Martin has been a lifelong friend and mentor to Bubbie. To Uncle Bubba he was a role model and the examples and the lessons that he learned from him have lasted a lifetime. Only with the passage of time can one discover that Mr. Martin's consistency in character, his smile and pleasant demeanor, his compassion, dedication, and enthusiasm to help others were constant qualities that when found in one person is so rare. He is missed but the world is a better place for him being in it. God Bless Mr. Martin.

It was a warm and sunny day. Uncle Bubba sat in the shade just outside of his garage door working on a wood carving project, pondering the passing of his friend. There have been several older people that have passed recently in Bubbie's life but this time it was different. Mr. Martin was the type of person that we all hope to be. He was involved in is community and invested his time in others. As it sinks in that he will no longer be around the burden of the world fell on Uncle Bubba's shoulders. With the passing of this generation, his parents generation, the care of the world is now ours. We haven't done too well so far have we. It's turned upside down because we let it. We've sat around expecting people like Mr. Martin to take care of everything. In Bubbie's view we have a long way to go but if we'll just start and each do a little bit, the world will begin to turn again. Take 5 to put someone else first. Smile. Say a kind word. We owe it to Mr. Martin who did it everyday of his life. We owe it to each other everyday of our lives. We owe it to the children, grandchildren, and unborn great grandchildren everyday of their lives.

Killer Storms

Killer Storms

Uncle Bubba cut off his cable subscription this past year as a conscious decision to depart from the propaganda. He wasn't sure that Sweet Pea would be pleased but he was as much concerned for her well-being as his. As it turns out, she is fine with it and has come to realize the benefits of it in that she has focused her attention on other things that she enjoys much more like crafting and listening to music. So Bubbie was unaware that they're now naming winter storms as they do with hurricanes. No sir, he had no idea that this was going on until he drove his son, Bubbie Jr. to the airport the day after Christmas. They were sitting in an airport restaurant eating lunch and a TV behind the bar was projecting the weather channel. Of course, when one is traveling the weather is a concern so it seemed appropriate to be airing the weather channel. But that's when Bubbie Jr. mentioned that he was glad that he missed Euclid. "Huh?" Bubbie thought, "What is that, some Jewish holiday celebration?"

"Yeah." Bubbie agreed, "Hey, it looks like another storm is coming across the state of Washington. The north could get another round of winter weather later this week."

"Yeah, it's Freyr." Bubbie Jr. replied.

"What?"

"They're naming winter storms now Daddy. And they're using some pretty strange names."

Uncle Bubba recognized that this is yet another ploy of the crappy 24 hour TV media that needs something to talk about. They invent things to worry about to try and bait people into staying tuned into them, which by the way, gives Bubbie another reason to be glad that he canceled my cable subscription. Once you know the weather report for the day do you really need to watch all day long? He's noticed that every storm is now a killer, that they can find at least one person that died. OK, remember when we were kids? It snowed, we shoveled, we played in it, no big deal. Then it would melt a little and then another snow storm would come for a day and repeat of above... Was anyone panicked? Did anyone die? Hell yes, someone always dies! We're freakin human and that's part of the deal!!! Some dumb ass kid will crash his car, or an old fart will have a heart attack while shoveling. Duh! But in Bubbie's view, we all bitch about how the news only reports the bad stuff; well how much news worthy bad stuff is there really because they repeat the same stories over and over for weeks. And they have to make up names of killer storms to scare people into staying tuned in.

Tis The Day After Christmas

Tis the day after Christmas and all through the house, not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse; well except for Uncle Bubba of course. Actually, Sweet Pea was up and early this morning to go in to work so Bubbie is sitting in the quiet at is kitchen table alone, sipping coffee and gazing out the window. The energy of the day before still lingers in the air and as he looks around the place the Christmas tree looks dark and tired after doing such an admirable job. Bubbie smiles because he can still see it lit up and glowing brightly the day before with all of the shiny, colorful presents encircling it's base and spilling out into the room. It was so pretty before the kids arrived and tore thru the gifts like a school of piranhas. There was a whirlwind of colored shards of ribbons and papers and little arms and fingers spinning around in the air over a high pitched sound of excited little voices and within minutes they had laid waste to the hours of preparing and wrapping. As the storm settled they looked around, still on the high of their frenzied avariciousness until their big smiles and wide eyes returned as they were reminded that they still had to empty their stockings on the mantel that Santa had filled. They all leapt to their feet and dashed off to find the last of the unopened gifts yelling, "Which one is mine?"

Uncle Bubba looked over at the kitchen sink and thought to himself, "I need to finish washing all of the pots and pans and get them put away for Sweet Pea today. That sure was some good food that Sweet Pea spread out yesterday. Man, did I ever eat too much!" There was a prime rib, a stuffed turkey breast, candied yams, mashed potatoes, green beans, and dinner rolls. She set out a pumpkin and pecan pie for dessert. Bubbie ate himself miserable!

Bubbie draws another sip of his hot, black coffee and feels a sense of relief that it's all over and life will go back to it's more mundane routine. He thoroughly enjoyed the holiday and received his only wish of being home with the family and especially Sweet Pea, but there's something about the endless celebration and anticipation leading up to Christmas that wears a body out. In Bubbie's view, he likes a nice break between Thanksgiving and Christmas. As he turns his gaze back out the window he appreciates the idea of the 12 days of Christmas; yeah, who ever came up with that knew what they were doing.

The Road Of Life

Uncle Bubba was riding down the road in his ol' black pickup truck. The sun was shining brightly through the trees and as the shadows of leaves dappled across his windshield he should have had a sunny disposition but he was wrasslin' around something in his mind. You see, Bubbie has always thought of himself of as a live and let live kinda feller. He's always treated folks the way that he's wanted to be treated, which is one of his tenets of life. He, himself, wants to be left alone. He reckons that most folks feel this way. That doesn't mean that he doesn't enjoy the company of his family, or friends. But he doesn't like the idea of being approached by solicitors, busybodies, or bigger yet, being under the insidious watchful eye of "big brother". So he goes about his business and in doing so he tries to be a good neighbor. He looks after his property with care. He tires to balance his time so that he has the time to keep his lawn mown and his bushes trimmed, his garden weeded and his house neatly clean and painted. He knows that his yard is not the best in his neighborhood, but it's better than others; after all he's a working man and only has so much time and energy to spend on it. But as he drives down so many roads he sees the property of others that is not so well maintained. These good folks seem to have the means to afford it, yet year in and year out they just don't get much accomplished and it causes him to wonder. Ya reckon they're just lazy? One never knows what is going on in another person's life - not really - so he reckons that the majority of them must be just plain lazy save a few with some real problems. That idea just sits like a burr under Bubbie's saddle and there in lies his dilemma! For if he acts upon his annoyance then he is not the live and let live kinda feller that he likes to think that he is. Yet we all know that some folks won't move unless they have a fire lit under them and for some even a 2 alarm inferno won't make a difference. But Uncle Bubba does what he always does; he moves on and remembers that it's often better to let sleeping dogs lie lest someone comes around complaining about him. As he drove a little further and thought about his thoughts, pondered his perceptions and deliberated his duality, a song entered the back of his mind and wiggled it's way through until he was humming the tune to himself. It was Torn Between Two Lovers by Mary MacGregor.
"Torn between two lovers, feelin' like a fool, Lovin' both of you is breakin' all the rules..."

"Oh Lord," Bubbie thought, "I've really lost it now!"

This whole split in his thinking must be wearing on him more than he thought! And what the heck was up with those '70s songs anyhow? That young lady sounded downright happy singing that song! She was telling her feller that she loved him and wanted him to stay but had another lover! That just ain't right! There were all kinds of weird songs like that back in the '70's. There was that Angie Baby by that Helen Reddy about a girl that weren't right and she stayed in her bedroom living in a world of make-believe. Then the sneaky peeper neighbor boy snuck over and she made him vanish with her loud music or hid him somewhere; we'll never know. Then there was Michael Jackson's song Ben, a doggone love song to a rat. True, it was for a movie, but it took off to be a hit record and still strangely enough it was essentially a boy singing sweetly to another boy. That ain't right! The list can go on and on but why sustain the torture. For Uncle Bubba, he has lived long enough to know that over time it's not easy to keep an open mind; it's an exercise and with exercise comes strength. He understands that his live and let live ideal gets him by and suits his nature but he eventually has to stand up for things as well; he just tries to choose his battles carefully. In Bubbie's view, the road ahead is smooth and clear and its best that he just stay looking forward out of the windshield; there's plenty of livin' to do.

Home For The Holidays!

Uncle Bubba made it home for the holidays. He was up every hour on the hour the night before in anticipation of getting the heck outta Dodge. When he got to the airport it was once again crowded. He waited in a long line with stressed out businessmen and fighting couples to check his bags and noticed an Army dude two people behind him in line. He asked the cammo'ed feller when his flight was and it was earlier than Bubbie's so he invited Joe Army to move up in front of him in line. Would you believe some people were giving snarky looks about that?! Sure, of course you would because that's the world we live in, the self centered America that we've all created. Bubbie was surprised when the couple that was spatting just in front of him eventually noticed the soldier and let him ahead as well. But the next man tried in vain to keep his head turned and not give notice and thus his precious place in line away. He succeeded in holding his place and proving that he is the jerk that he appeared to be.

Finally, after shuffling along in the long serpentined line, it was Uncle Bubba's turn at the baggage check counter. He set his first little suitcase on the scale and handed the lady his ID. She scans it and puts a tag on the bag. She pulls the suitcase off the scale and slings it onto the conveyor. Then Bubbie set his big suitcase on the scale and she's like, "Uh-Oh, it's one pound over. Take something out." He's looking at her like "seriously?" And she's looking at him like, "yes!" So he unzips it and of course all of his dirty, smelly clothes, socks and skivvies are on top because he chucked them in last, never expecting to open the suitcase until he arrived home. So Bubbie angrily reaches around in it trying to pull out something not so embarrassing and when he does she's says that it's OK now. She pulls it from the scale and abruptly flops it onto the conveyor. She yells over his head, "I can help the next person down here!"

Bubbie is left there a little stunned and quite annoyed, standing with a couple wadded up shirts and a goddarn beard trimmer. Great. Now he has to carry these on the plane with him. Lesson learned; put the big suitcase on first. Then you can stash any leftovers in the smaller one. By the way, how much UNDER weight was that small one? They couldn't average it out? What a bunch of dumb-asses! And what about the fat dude that sat next to Bubbie on the plane, the one that spilled over into Bubbie's personal space?!!! He's more than one pound overweight! Did they charge him more? There's not much worse than flying for travel. Yes, it's fast and that's awesome, but...

Bubbie collected himself and looked around for an escape route of which there was none so he had to excuse himself back across through the line of future, anxious, baggage checkers to the even more anxious security line. He took a moment to try and stuff his extra shirts and beard trimmer into his computer carry-on and while doing so, several rude people cut in front of him in line. He reckoned that he should have stayed right on the bumper of the dude in front of him but oh well, too late now. He considered making a comment but it was barely six in the morning and he just wasn't up for it. When they approached a point in the line where it split in two directions, the couple that jumped ahead of Bubbie where perplexed on which way to go. They were discussing the options and leaned towards the right line that appeared to be moving faster at the moment but zigzagged towards the front. Bubbie stepped up along the left side of the rude couple to assist them in their decision and they went for it; Bubbie was glad to be rid of them. He smiled as they kept looking in his direction to gauge if they had made the right move or not. Bubbie thought, "Some people are so stupid. What does it matter? We're all getting through the line when we get through the line." Eventually Uncle Bubba made it to the front of the security a line. The poor feller in front of him was as nervous as a canary in a cage full of cats. Bubbie gave him some space and told him to take his time, there was no pressure. While Bubbie was waiting his turn the dude behind him was trying to reach around him and grab a plastic bin! Bubbie said, "Excuse me, but you'll have to wait your turn. I need about 4 of those bins, and you aren't going anywhere until I do."

Uncle Bubba made it through the security line and quickly gathered his belongings. He found a bench to the side of the crowd and got himself redressed and his belongings back in his carry-on bag. He headed for the gate and noticed the rude people from earlier standing at the TSA counter with their arms out being scanned and patted down. Ha ha! That's karma!

On the other end of his flight he peaked around the chubby fellers sitting around him saw the familiar surroundings out the plane windows as the jet touched down. He was home! He knew that Sweet Pea was waiting for him in the airport and he couldn't make it there fast enough. He exited the tram and saw her standing across the room, her radiant beauty as stunning as any shining star. He hurried towards her and she turned to see him approaching and broke into a beautiful smile. He grabbed her in his arms and gave her a long and proper kiss. She smelled like a piece of heaven. In Bubbie's view nothing else matters for a time; Uncle Bubba is home for the holidays! Merry Christmas!

Lincoln

Uncle Bubba darted through traffic on a cold Ohioan night, switching lanes and sashaying trough the traffic lights and intersections as he struggled to find the theater. He was running late and was tired from a long week's work yet he looked forward with anticipation to spending a few mystical hours in a dark movie theater, lost in shadows between the flickering lights; a reprieve from eternal verities, an escape from reality. He parked his truck and shuffled quickly across the busy parking lot, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets and his collar raised to guard against the creeping dampness. He was running late according to the start time of the movie listing but he knew that he had a buffer depending on the number of previews that they were showing. As he stood a dozen deep in line he hoped that the quality of the anticipated viewing matched his conjured expectations. Then it was his turn at the ticket booth and he stepped up to the plexiglas, "One for Lincoln please."

Uncle Bubba navigated his way through the dark theater halls and rounded the corner and entered the dimly light, cavernous room of stadium seats and flickering images. He quickly surmised that there were only seats available down in the front area since he had shown up a bit late. Following the footlights he found a comfortable seat of the few remaining, settled in and watched the last preview before the film started. The tone of the movie is blue, cold and damp but Lincoln prevails through it with a warm and wise character. The film is based in part on Doris Kearns Goodwin's biography of Lincoln, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, and covers the final four months of Lincoln's life so it's ideal to remember that it is not a documentary, it is made to entertain, not educate but it manages both wonderfully. The film makers and actors did an exceptional job of showing the complexity of Abe's life as father, husband, politician, and President measured against just being a man; all within 150 minutes.

Uncle Bubba realizes that he is heavily influenced by my own current life and the forces upon it in that he is sacrificing his home life and comfort to make a living and take care of Sweet Pea, but he came away from the movie thinking that it may be the greatest movie he's ever seen but he doesn't know why. There are so many layers and levels to sift through. The film poignantly displays examples of courage and sacrifice, courage by soldiers and courage by some irascible politicians of that era. Uncle Bubba is a man that prides himself on his toughness but admitted that he literally cried three times while watching and he doesn't know if he's ever done that in a movie theater. In the end, he was pretty choked up at the end and had to gather himself as the credits rolled. He sat in the dark as others shuffled to the exits and wondered why he was so sorrowful. He reckoned that it reinforced the sadness he feels for his country in it's present state and mourning the loss of someone who may have contributed even more to the quality of our lives. He finally gathered himself and slid his arms through the sleeves of his coat while heading for the exit. He walked slowly down the sidewalk looking into the storefront windows while mulling his thoughts. The cold damp air seemed almost welcome now, like a slap in the face to bring one back to their senses. He walked to his truck considering how carefully Lincoln weighed individual circumstances of citizens and therefore how far removed our modern day Presidents are from us. Bubbie started the engine and sat silently waiting for the motor to warm up and the windows to clear. After several minutes he fiddled with the radio to find some music to bring him back from his thoughts. He recalled that though it wasn't mentioned in the movie, Bubbie knows that the U.S.-Dakota War was being fought in the state of Minnesota at the same time as the Civil War and Lincoln had to deal with that as well. He marveled at Lincoln's fortitude to handle all of the difficult things on his plate and still retain a sense of humor. It made him consider the courage that it takes to rise above one's personal interests and to compromise to achieve the most and with that, it reinforced his idea that having vision is a rare thing. Now here we are on the precipice of another financial crisis and in Bubbie's view, our Congress should be forced to spend 2 1/2 hours to watch this movie together. They may come away from it with a spirit to compromise on the immediate goals of avoiding the fiscal cliff and manage the immediate impact versus attempting to solve the entire debt crisis in one bill. There is no one thing that will fix our economy. But why not find common goals and compromise to achieve them knowing that everything is dynamic; great works are sculpted over time. We can have it all, just not all at once.

Finally, in speaking to Abraham Lincoln's vision, here is a quote that eerily predicted our future: “I see in the near future a crisis approaching that unnerves me and causes me to tremble for the safety of my country. As a result of the war, corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in high places will follow, and the money power of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of the people until all wealth is aggregated in a few hands, and the Republic is destroyed. I feel at this moment more anxiety for the safety of my country than ever before, even in the midst of war.”
–Abraham Lincoln in a letter written to William Elkin, 1860

Now, it's time for me to go. But I would rather stay.

Petraeus Betrayed Us

Petraeus betrayed us. That's Bubbie's story and he's sticking to it. We should all have a healthy sense of self worth and with that, have integrity. The old saying the integrity is measured by our behavior when no one is watching is something that runs through Uncle Bubba's mind all the time. Not so much because he is tempted to step out of line, but because of witnessing the asinine behavior of some many others. Leadership is accomplished by example, be it bad or good. Petraeus is just another self-centered public servant on a power trip. His apology is weak being that he never should have reached the point of having to need to apologize. He broke his oath and commitment to his wife, his family, and to all of us to which he served because he lacks integrity. Uncle Bubba sees this behavior on a regular basis; people in public service that abuse and misuse their authority to circumvent public ethical and professional standards. They have reached a level within their department where they quite honestly do very little hands on work. They walk around and are kowtowed to by the bootlickers and brown-nosers that are only looking to get a free ride or become their replacement. So the higher-ups, with a high income and idle time fall prey to their own egos and they succumb to their idealized immunity. Uncle Bubba's question is, how do we break the cycle? How do we bring integrity back into public service? It seems to him that we should begin by killing the virus that already exists in the system; purge the prevailing culture of corruption. Swift firing of lecherous perverts would do wonders for the government through and through. If that seems like common sense then common sense should tell you that this is not the way our government operates; quite the opposite. Sure Bubbie's scared, probably like you, that getting rid of fraudulent and unethical people wouldn't leave many left in service. But is that any reason not to do it? This is the home of the brave after all! But punishment is only half of the solution, positive reinforcement of ethical behavior and integrity will offer its own rewards. In Bubbie's view there are many good and honorable people ready and willing to step up and fill the void if only given a fair chance based on merit.

Declination of Fall

Uncle Bubba woke in his hotel room on Sunday morning with the sliver of sunlight slicing through the curtains. He rolled out of bed and into his clothes and walked out the door. He was greeted by the cool fall air as he walked out to his pickup; he had one thing on his mind: fishing. It was the one thing that he could do to not think about all the other worries of the world, if only for a few hours. Under the calming glow of the autumn sun, he drove to a nearby reservoir and pulled into a small park along the shore. His vehicle was the only one there so as far as he knew, he was alone. He grabbed his fishing gear and walked to the waters edge. There was a floating dock and he looked for the often common, "No Fishing From The Dock" signs. He didn't see any so he slowly walked out on it casting a lure left and right. He watched the water for any movement, a sign of fish in the area. As he walked out onto the main area of the dock he kept casting but took some time to drink in the moment, the beauty of the sky, the changing colors of the leaves.

Then he looked down and saw, "No Fishing" painted in faded red paint on the deck. He sneered thinking, "What am I hurting?" He fished a while longer before giving up. His stomach was hinting at his lack of breakfast and he hated getting skunked but it was time to head back towards the hotel, he was looking forward to getting cleaned up and a good meal. A couple classic rock songs played on the radio as he drove and he passed a fellow weed-whacking his lawn along the edge of his driveway. The dapper dude looked like an executive type, but proud that he's the manly type that's not afraid to roll up his sleeves and do a little hard work. Perhaps it was his sweatsuit, or his radio headphones, or his protective eyewear and gloves, or his coifed hair that gave him away. Bubbie laughed to himself because he knows what hard work is. That's when he was hit with an overwhelming feeling of melancholy. He wondered to himself, "Sure, he was a long way from home but it was a beautiful fall day. It wasn't even the sad Journey song playing on the radio." In Bubbie's view it was that knowing of the coming event over the next few weeks, after the beautiful leaves have reached their peak, after the lawn mowers have been put away. It's being wrapped in a universe of nearly unspeakable beauty and knowing that it, fleeting, will end all too soon -- the declination of fall.

What Have You Got?

Uncle Bubba is on the road again. He's been fighting off the blues because being away from his Sweet Pea for one moment is unbearable. He's learned a few tricks to keep readjusting his attitude and to keep him distracted from missing his beautiful bride. He stays busy, no grass grows under his feet. He's a shy feller but he tries to stay around people, at least enough to keep from becoming isolated in his own thoughts. For example, he went out to dinner with his coworkers and a good time was had by all... almost. He noticed a good looking, middle aged couple sitting across the room at the bar and discerned by there body language that they were uncomfortable with one another. Throughout the evening he occasionally glanced in their direction and could see that, with their hand gestures, they were having a low boiling argument. They would spat and then look away from one another for long periods of time. I hurt Bubbie's heart to see their trouble. He wanted to go over and say to them, "Think about your history and what you have, and what it would be like if you lost it. Do you think it can't happen? Consider how hard it is to find someone that you're compatible with. Maybe when you do you'll find that you have a lot of reasons to stay together. Is it worth fighting to get your own way and making each other sad to get it? If it cost you everything I bet it isn't." He thought about how much he missed his Sweet Pea and how precious his time is when he can be with her. In Bubbie's view, we should only be fighting to do all we can to keep a great and loving relationship. He and his group finished their dinner and they all arose to leave. Bubbie looked over at the couple one last time before walking towards the door. He secretly wished them each the best. He wondered if they would ever learn that they will only get what they most want when they become completely devoted to one another. He politely held the door for his friends before passing through it himself, closing the door on another day and getting him one day closer to getting home to his true love; Sweet Pea.

I Know Everything

It seems like we're living in the age where we know everything or at least too much, and Uncle Bubba is not so sure that he likes that. He doesn't want to know everything; like we know what's in hotdogs and we don't want to eat them anymore, or if we do it's just a little more difficult to enjoy them. Do we really have to know everything? Does it make things better? In the case of food, we are given all of the nutritional information right on the label and yet we're getting fatter; like the more we know the fatter we get. My grandparents each meat and potatoes cooked with lard, fried eggs and bacon, pies and cakes, three teaspoons of sugar in their coffee and lived long lives. They weren't fat. They also weren't aware that their diet was bad for them. It's seems that now we know what we eat will make us fat so our brains go, "OK, I guess I'll be fat!" It's like when Wile E. Coyote runs off of a cliff and he's doing fine until the roadrunner points out that he's not on the ground anymore.

You here it all the time; if your this age you should feel like this, if your that age you should feel like that. OK, back in the day they were also moving. They weren't parked in front of a TV or a computer screen. They gardened, they went hunting and fishing, they didn't have power steering and automatic transmissions in their vehicles so a trip wasn't like riding in a plush recliner like we have today. In Bubbie's view, not all progress is good for us. Yeah the world changes and we either keep up or get left behind, but as Bubbie's mama used to say, "If your friends jumped off of a cliff, would you jump off too?" Bubbie knows enough to keep things in balance. He knows everything in life is better in moderation.

Hammocks in the Hammock

Uncle Bubba was out working around the yard, no major chores, just the joy of puttering around in the fresh air and sunshine. As the hours passed he made his way towards his hammock that he has stretched between two trees. As he casts a short gaze upon it he reckons that he doesn't spend enough time lying in that comfortable cloth sling. After another lap around the yard he gives in to his inclination to flop into the hammock. He laid his head back and gazed up through the tree leaves, past the canopy up into the cobalt sky. How wondrous a sight of such a simple thing, yet of rare a sight if one does not take a moment to lie on one's back. A child wouldn't think twice about it. They fall on the ground and roll onto their backs and look at the clouds drifting by. But as an adult the view is different; it comes with more wisdom, more insight into what makes the trees and the clouds. And it comes with the knowledge that its finite, that nothing lasts forever; therefore the appreciation is much deeper, much more meaningful.

Bubbie relaxed and with a deep sigh he closed his eyes. He could feel the warmth of the sun dapple on his face as it danced through the leaves. He felt the air move across the hair on his arms as he rocked, floating above the ground; suspended comfortably. He would have loved to drift off to catch a few winks except for a bug that he felt walking on him. It made is skin crawl as he flinched. A bug. A simple, tiny insect, yet so annoying. In the chaotic business of life we often say that something bugs us. In Bubbie's view its a poignant moniker for those pesky buggers, the bug. So on this day he couldn't nap but he still had the rest.

PVT or VP?

The first thing that popped into Bubbie's mind...

Yeah, I can see some similarities. I'm afraid that more will become evident as time goes by.

What's Your Pleasure?

I received a rebuke of sorts from Uncle Bubbie about the last post. Behind his simple, soft spoken demeanor is lot of wisdom and I sometimes forget to take it all to seriously when I chat with Bubbie. He is so goodnatured and pleasant that it's not hard to laugh off many of his comments without regard for the wisdom which is imparted in them. Anyway, he reminded me that we had talked about finding happiness and when I had written, "the same theme repeated over and over throughout his tales, consider the thoughts and actions of someone other than yourself" from the last post I didn't go far enough. Bubbie and I were sitting on the porch in the heat of the afternoon discussing how happiness is not the same thing as pleasure. Happiness comes from within. As Aristotle says, happiness is an activity of the soul in accordance with areté (excellence or virtue). That's the ancient Greek Aristotle, not Buzz Aristotle that has the lumber mill out on county road 417. Buzz knows timber but he's not a people person. But now, pleasure is the natural accompaniment of unimpeded activity; a momentary feeling that comes from something external - a good meal, our stock going up, making love, and so on. In Bubbie's view, we here in the US are a pleasure seeking society. Most of us spend our energy seeking pleasure and avoiding pain, and hoping that by doing this we will feel happy.

Bubbie told me that for too long he walked around preaching that we should all try just a little harder to be happy but then realized that what he was preaching was his idea of happiness, which is different from anyone else's because we're all individuals. And since it comes from within one's soul, he could not know what anyone else could be feeling to generate their own happiness. He was quick to tell me that he still believes in finding happiness and the act of giving, but now on a different level. Likewise with pleasure, he assumed that all pleasure was positive but he now reckons that that ain't right either. Many folks find pleasure in destructive actions like gossip and drama. Why some of Bubbie's closest family and friends find pleasure stewing in their own misery; they must or they wouldn't do it. Take Wesley, a feller that Bubbie's known most of his adult life. In terms of our society's idea of success, Wesley had everything - a good job, a lovely wife and children, a beautiful home, and time to enjoy it all. Yet he was not happy. While he had momentary feelings of happiness while watching the truck pulls or drinking a cold beer with his friends, he also felt anxious and depressed much of the time. As the years passed and Bubbie hung around Wesley, it became apparent that Wesley's main desire in life was to have control over people and events. He wanted others to do things his way and to believe the way he believed. He was frequently judgmental with his coworkers, wife, children and friends, believing that he was right and they were wrong and it was his province to straighten them out with his judgment and criticism. Over time his natural demeanor had become hard and tough and he would be like a steamroller in his efforts to get his point across and get others to do things his way. When it worked and others gave in, Wesley felt a momentary pang of pleasure. But it wouldn't last and all the beer in the world couldn't easy the letdown. Uncle Bubba would spend hours trying to talk and more importantly listen to Wesley because as Bubbie said, "That's just what friends do." He discovered that Wesley also wanted control over his own feelings, and would often judge himself as harshly as he judged others in an effort to get himself to perform well and feel okay. He especially judged himself harshly when he felt rejected by others, frequently, secretly telling himself that he was an inadequate jerk. Poor ol' Wesley has never really changed. Sadly he could never see that happiness is the result of choosing to be a kind, caring, compassionate and gentle person with himself and others - quite the opposite of the judgmental, controlling person he had chosen to be. How much better would he be if he could learn that happiness is the natural result of being present in each moment with love and kindness toward himself and others rather than trying to control the outcome of events and others' behavior. Bubbie reckoned that if Wesley could be open to a different idea he'd discover that he'd feel true happiness whenever he'd let go of control and chose caring instead.

Uncle Bubba told me, and I agree that it is not easy to shift out of the deep devotion to control and become devoted to love and compassion toward oneself and others; most people need a teachable spirit and some good support to make this shift. That because our ego wounded self has been practicing control since we were very little; it's our nature. Yet the moment our intent is to control, our heart closes and we feel alone and anxious inside. Our intent to seek safety and pleasure through controlling others, outcomes, and our own feelings leads to an inner feeling of emptiness. Our feelings of emptiness lead to more pleasure seeking outside ourselves that can lead to addictive behavior. In Bubbie's view, that's reason enough to get over on the good foot and give a new path a try.

As he put it, "Sometimes we just have to let go of our ideas of what is best for others and trust that it will all turn out just the way it should. After all, God is a-watchin' over us; He's got it all cyphered out if we'd just get out of his way. People been a-thinkin' that the end of the world has been comin' since the dawn of time; but life goes on - best we just ride along and enjoy it... Ya know, be happy."