Gator Bites

Uncle Bubba sat at his kitchen table and sipped a hot cup of coffee as he looked upon the newspaper. He choked in astonishment as he drew a sip when he read the following story: "In Everglades City, an airboat captain whose hand was bitten off by a 9-foot alligator last month was charged Friday with feeding the animal. Wallace Weatherholt, 63, posted a $1,000 bond and received a court date of Aug. 22 on a charge of unlawful feeding of an alligator. According to the Fort Myers News-Press, Weatherholt was attacked on June 12 as he was giving an Indiana family a tour of the Everglades. The family said Weatherholt hung a fish over the wide of the boat and had his hand at the water's surface when the alligator attacked. Wildlife officers tracked and euthanized the gator. Weatherholt's hand was found but could not be reattached. Feeding an alligator is a second-degree misdemeanor." He roared with laughter and Sweet Pea walked in the room to see what he was up to.
"It's this story that I just read in the paper about an alligator attack."
"You think an alligator attack is funny?"
"No," Bubbie paused, "It's not that, but the stupidity of everyone involved! The old feller lost his hand in the attack and still the officer arrested him for feeding a gator!"
"Losing his hand isn't enough punishment?"
"Exactly! Then they tracked the gator down and killed it. So apparently it's illegal to feed a gator but not to kill one! This level of stupidity is squarely what's wrong with this country anymore! If'n a feller is stupid enough to get bit by an alligator that's his problem. And if'n a officer has nothing better to do than arrest him for it, and then hunt and kill the gator, then he's an idiot and a waste of our tax dollars. Yet he's in authority and is coached to do it by his supervisors! There's no common sense in government anymore and it's putting us all in the doggone poor house! We need leaders that have the guts to lead, to make changes, and fire proven idiots!"
"Amen Bubbie, Amen."

Our tax dollars at work. At least there's no line at the doughnut shop!

Note: Before this post was published a story came on the news about a plane that was hit by a bird. The impact crushed the nose of the airliner and opened a gaping hole in the sheet metal. Then it was reported that the type of bird was unknown but tissue samples were being sent to a lab to determine its species. Seriously? The government has to waste our money in determining what type of bird hit the plane? The airline company isn't paying for it, we are! So what's the deal; if it was a bald eagle are they going to press charges against the pilot? Again, this business-as-usual, idiotic waste of time and money is common place in government and will only end when we say enough is enough.

Willard Mitt Romlympics

I don't know about y'all, but that Romney feller is ruining my Olympics watching. Personally, I don't need some half wit wannabe busybody traipsing all over England pretending to be our President, embarrassing the rest of us. Somebody oughta tell that dude to knock it off! And, of course, shame on the TV stations for putting him all over my Olympic coverage like he IS the doggone President! In Bubbie's view, the Olympics are about triumph of the human spirit and national pride, not empty headed politicians buying screen time.

God's Gift?

Uncle Bubba has a birthday coming up and it got him to thinking about a sarcastic saying that he's heard in the past; the one that about if'n you're God's gift the world. He remembers walking in on a project at work and his coworkers were struggling with trying to make things cultivate. When Bubbie showed up on the scene he had a completely different solution to offer, different from anything that had been previously suggested or tried. When he spoke up confidently to offer his solution it fell on deaf ears. People just looked at him annoyedly and told him that he was way off base. He persisted in expressing his opinion and one person quipped, "Aren't we lucky that God has graced us with your presence." Of course his solution eventually turned out to be the one that worked but that's beside the point. We have these expressions that are meant to put one another down, to put someone in their place.

But the truth is that God did did grace us with your presence. The question is, is the world a better place because you're here? It's been Bubbie's observation that most folks think that on the inside, they are really a good person. We may do bad things on occasion, but that's only because of the circumstances around us. Sometimes our biggest transgression is not doing anything at all; being absent when we should be involved. Or as in a previous post were Uncle Bubba told us about a person that damaged someone's car with a shopping cart and anonymously drove off. If you could find that idiot and ask them if deep down they are a good person, they would undoubtedly say yes.  Try it for yourself; out of the blue, casually ask anyone you know if they think they're a good person. You'll reach the same conclusion. But now turn it back on yourself and what do you see? It's Bubbie's opinion that most people fall just at 50% on the scale of goodness. The world isn't a better place because we're here, but we contribute to some marginal betterment in the lives of our loved ones. So how much more effort would it take to reach 51% and actually be a graceful presence? Wouldn't it be nice to work with pleasant coworkers? Then be one. Wouldn't you like to have great friends? Then be one. If you don't know where to start, in Bubbie's view if you could just hold kindness in your heart, that would be enough.

No Conscience

Uncle Bubba was building a set of cornhole boards for a little backyard fun and need some supplies from a home improvement and building supply store. That's what we call lumberyards now, I reckon it's more politically correct or something. So he got in his ol' black truck and commenced to drive to the closest one. Pulling into the parking lot he began the ritual of finding a parking space that was safest for ol' Blackie. Bubbie scanned the area for a place that was away from the usual cart collection areas, away from any contractor's trucks towing trailers, and people that were loading their vehicles. This typically annoys Uncle Bubba because he feels that he has to protect his property from knuckleheads juxtaposed against feeling silly for worrying about it. Luckily on this day the lot traffic was light and the spaces were many. He quickly parked and made his way into the store to purchase the pieces of wood that he went there to buy. He found what he was looking for, two 2' X 4' sheets of sanded half inch plywood. He placed them on a cart and proceeded to check out. As he pushed the cart across the parking lot, he avoided getting run down by the steady stream of apparently self important motorists that rudely paid little heed to his pedestrianism. He noticed a store employee and what he assumed was a customer standing nearby as he dropped the tailgate and loaded the plywood. As he turned to walk the cart back to the store he noticed why the two men were standing there talking. Some unconscionable jerk had run into a shopping buggy and knocked it into the customers car and apparently drove off!

What kind of world are we living in that people can just damage another persons property and drive away? It's the act of a criminal mind. As the world gets more populated and we live in closer contact with others, basic respect should take a higher priority in a persons conscience. We don't have to necessarily like one another, but we do have to live peacefully with one another. And if you damage someone else's property, own up to it. What if it was your property that was anonymously ruined? How would you feel? And now Bubbie won't be able to toss a game of cornhole with the boards that he's making without thinking about what he saw. Where's the fun in that? In Bubbie's view this self-centered, uncaring, all-to-common lifestyle is the erosion of the very ideals that this once great country was founded on; united we stand, divided we fall.

A Reflection Of Our Soul

Uncle Bubba got a new Wal-Mart store in his small town and he wondered about the conscience of that Sam Walton fella. He wondered if ol' Sam died happy with the way that his stores have blighted our American panorama much like Dutch elm disease slowly traveled the world's landscape and ravaged the majestic trees. You see, Bubbie's small town all ready had a Wal-Mart store. Admittedly, it was a small storefront by Wal-Mart standards, located in a plaza with a handful of other businesses; a grocery store, three restaurants, and a barber shop. But somehow the Walton industry decided that they needed a new store in a new location. So five miles down the road, on the southern edge of town, they began cutting down trees and clearing the landscape of underbrush. They tore up the ground only to level it and cover it in concrete and asphalt. They built their new building to house the store, which by the way, is not much bigger than the old store, if at all. Then they cleared out the old store of all that they couldn't sell and moved south for the grand opening. Uncle Bubba was working out of town during most of this event. As you know, he has been traveling a lot for work. But this last trip home brought him down Main St. past the old Wal-Mart location. His heart sank as he laid eyes on the empty parking lot with the un-mown grass and the vacant, disheveled storefront. The ugliness was exacerbated by an outline of letters spelling Wal-Mart on a begrimed blue banner above the dark, impassive doors. Several vehicles dotted the parking lot long the edge of the plaza where the other businesses were obviously contending to carry on.

It was then that Uncle Bubba was reminded of something a sage cowboy had once told him; that his horse is a reflection of his soul. It was there, staring at the scar that was left on his hometown that he was reminded that our world, the earth is a reflection of our soul. In Bubbie's view, if we prioritize it's commercialization then our reflected value is only in the landscape's short term monetary value. There is less of, or virtually no value in Nature or sustenance for the future. The condition of which the Walton's left the old Wal-Mart store is a metaphor for the condition of our collective souls. Our silent acceptance of their substandard tenancy is a reflection on us. We are no better than the corporate devils that scourge the land and march off in the name of good business.

Rocking To The Rhythm

Uncle Bubba has once again returned home from a long five weeks on the road. He's been home for a little over a week and I haven't been anxious to bother him, but I ran into Sweet Pea at the Piggly Wiggly and she said that Bubbie was doing well and feeling rested; she insisted that I stop by for a visit. So the following day I made the trek along the wooded country roads to Uncle Bubba's. I could see him thru my windshield as I approached down the lane. He was working in the yard; one of his favorite domestic endeavors. I was glad to see the familiar smile and wave as I drove up the drive and parked my truck. After the initial greetings we walked to the porch and sat in a couple of wooden rocking chairs and wiled away a couple hours. After catching up on what we have both been up to lately, Uncle Bubba shifted gears and pointed out how when we first began rocking in those wooden rocking chairs, that we are rocking at different rates until we relaxed and fell into the conversation. At that time we had slowed our rocking and rocked more in unison. As he brought it to my attention I did notice that the deeper our conversation delved, the less and less we rocked and then as our repartee lightened we would rock a little more carefree. In Bubbie's view, there is a rhythm to life. Each of us lives at our own rhythm and we can only be in tune with one another when we are rocking at the same rhythm. Bubbie says that you either get it or you don't. There's no in between. A person has to be perceptive to the rhythm of the others around them and adjust to a rhythm to accomplish the most. Occasionally we'll meet people that we are naturally in sync with so talking and working with them is easy. Others we may be on opposite sides of the spectrum and it takes monumental effort to get your rhythms to meet in the middle. One's natural rhythm may be fast and the other slow. Or one may have an erratic rhythm. Uncle Bubba has noticed that troubled folks have erratic rhythms. People think that in an ideal life there shouldn't be waves, there are. They think that life should just float along smoothly, whatever their rhythm, but that's just not the way that it is. We are all rocking to different rates and bumping into each other; how can there not be waves? The key is to see it and stay as steady as you can until you can get back into a peaceful rhythm as soon as possible.

Uncle Bubba and I sat there on the porch as the sky turned from blue to a pale orange. It was good to have my friend back home where he can truly enjoy his life, at his rhythm. As I left for my own home I looked back over my left shoulder as I drove away and saw Bubbie and Sweet Pea sitting on the porch, smiling and rocking in rhythm.

6/20/2012 Update: Shortly after posting Bubbie's view about the rhythm of life, I coincidentally came across some information about neuroscientist Richard Davidson and his work on conditions like ADHD and autism. He focuses not on fixing what is wrong, but on rewiring our minds with life-enriching behaviors. Dr. Davidson indicates that discoveries within the neuroscience community have found that there is a brain rhythm that is called gamma oscillations. Gamma oscillations are recorded through the electrical activity of the brain. When you observe gamma oscillations in a normal conventional person who has not gone training of the mind, you see the oscillations for very short periods of time, typically one second or less. What scientists observe in the long-term practitioners during certain kinds of meditation, particularly meditation on compassion, is that these gamma oscillations persist for a much longer period of time; they persisted for minutes continuously at very high amplitude. You can imagine my astonishment in discovering this information right after my poignant conversation with Bubbie. I don't reckon that I'd have to tell Uncle Bubba that there is scientific evidence that our brains have rhythmic impulses for him to know that he's right. Uncle Bubba knows what he knows and that's why we have Bubbie's view.

Suspended Reality

I stopped by to visit Uncle Bubba on a quiet afternoon. I found him sitting in his backyard, in a shady spot reading a book. I nearly stopped and retreated in quiet as I feel that a person quietly reading is sacred event. But Uncle Bubba noticed me and smiled as he rested the book on his lap and motioned for me to join him. As I sat down near him he told me about the book he was reading. After a brief plot summary our discussion turned to the idea of suspending one's reality to lose one's self in a story. It's no secret that human mind has the ability to suspend reality and buy into the apparition of a story. It's so much more enjoyable to believe in the setting and that the characters exist and revel in their adventures and emotions. Bubbie gave me a knowing squint as he described this as a gift from God, an escape from the stress and brutality of a world also manufactured by men. This also incorporates what has been described as the suspension of disbelief in which the reader would suspend judgment concerning the implausibility of the narrative and often applies to fictional works. This is because its man's nature to be skeptical and disbelieving.

Juxtapose this now against the current chaotic climate of Reality TV, Facebook, and Twitter where the mundane and inane is posted and proclaimed as the truth. The imagination of the person posting is exercised in the reflection of their perceived reality, yet the readers do not suspend reality, but take everything as actuality. It no sooner hits the web or the airwaves than the news outlets pounce on it to be the first to proclaim it as truth and thus validate the inveracity. In Bubbie's view, our willingness to use "reality" as entertainment causes a loss in our ability to separate fact and fiction and therefore creating a void in our intellect. In our laziness to challenge an allegation or account we easily fall prey to ignorance. This way of living, this self imposed brainwashing threatens our ability to learn a lesson from a story; to suspend reality and explore morality without causing harm to others. But in Bubbie's eternal optimism he walked with me back to my truck with the idea that by pausing, by taking the time to discover the truth, we can move ahead while holding onto the best of what humanity has learned.

Serious Laughs

Uncle Bubba sat at his old wooden kitchen table with a white coffee cup and saucer full of piping hot coffee in front of him. He had a big smile on his face as I pulled out a chair to join him at the table. He showed me a magazine that he received in the mail from a firearms company. He got a kick outta some of the ads and shared a few with me. One is from Nordic Components that claims to sell "zombie eradication necessities". Nordic Components claim to be Zombie Hunters Guild approved and Bubbie's glad because zombies don't kill themselves!

They also advertise a concealed carry tote that, "accommodates all the tools you need to survive the urban jungle!" It's a "low profile carry case that looks like a mild-mannered-computer-nerd accessory, but it's designed for your pistol as well as your PC!" Because you know how dangerous the urban jungle is for unarmed naive nerds. As I thumbed through the pages of the tiny magazine I read a quick article that started with , "The first rule of gunfighting is, of course, have a gun." Bubbie reckoned aloud that the second rule is use it first." In Bubbie's view it was refreshing to see that a company uses a little humor to advertise their products, obviously assuming that their potential customers have a brain.

Olive You

Uncle Bubba was finally home for a weekend and he and Sweet Pea had an awesome Easter, just the two of them, together. While getting reacquainted with his community he came across an ad for a local olive orchard. He and Sweet Pea decided to take a short drive to investigate. Long story short, they wound up purchasing two olive tree saplings; a Greek variety Koroneiki olive, and a Spanish variety Arbequina olive tree.

This mission provoked research and gave enlightenment to Bubbie in the mysterious elixir of olive oil. Without a doubt the most important bit of knowledge that signor Bubbie can pass along is that good quality olive oil should have some cloudiness and even some sediment in the bottle. What most of us are purchasing here in the U.S. is a blended, reduced concentration of oil. We are being flummoxed. To explain this further, Uncle Bubba refers to an explanation of the term Extra Virgin.

"In Europe and many other countries, “Extra Virgin” is a narrowly defined grade of olive oil. Standards developed by the International Olive Council (IOC) require it to be produced entirely by mechanical means (no solvents) under temperatures that will cause no alteration of the oil (less than 86 degrees F). It must have a maximum free-fatty-acid level of less than 0.8 percent (a measure of the soundness of the fruit) and a peroxide value of less than 20 meq (a measure of oxidation). It must be free from defects when evaluated by a trained sensory evaluation panel and possess at least some degree of fruitiness.

Unfortunately, the U.S. government does not enforce IOC standards for use of the term “extra virgin.” As long as the product is made solely from olives, it can be labeled “extra virgin olive oil” in this country. A petition has been filed to adopt the IOC standards for “extra virgin” in the United States. In the meantime, the playing field is anything but level for the domestic producer of true extra-virgin olive oil who must compete with low-cost imports that could never to be sold as extra virgin in Europe. (hobbyfarms.com)"

In Bubbie's view, the failure of the U.S. government to adopt a higher standard in the grading of olive oil is the problem with the standard of the U.S. government across the board. We should be setting the standards to which the rest of the world aspires.

Adios Pennsyltucky Peaches

Uncle Bubba is glad to see Pennsyltucky in his rearview mirror for no other reason that he is headed for home. He's a southern man, which he admits skews his perspective, yet sees folks at face value. Most folks at that level are nice and have far more in common than the media would have us believe. But in this commonwealth that has given us such small minded thinkers as Rick Santorum and Gerald Sandusky, Bubbie gave me one word for the Keystoners, wacky. They'd be surprised, no doubt, to discover that they aren't exactly the friendliest folks one might come across. They have a spooky way of looking right through a person and not acknowledging that you're there.  (Bubbie now better understands that lights out look in Santorum's eyes.) They don't offer a mere hello, let alone a handshake or a glass of water to a thirsty worker. Yet when they are engaged they're as pleasant as most. One day Bubbie was jawing with some locals and mentioned that he reckoned that he saw a peach tree orchard in his travels.
"Peach trees!" they heckled, "Apple trees for sure, but not peach trees!"
Uncle Bubba felt a little embarrassed and suddenly felt like a southerner, an outsider as he waited for their snickerin' to die down.

A few weeks later he was cruising along no more than 20 miles from where he was lightly chastised for thinking that there were peach trees in Pennsylvania when low and behold, there was the doggone peach orchard!

Yessir, right there under the noses of the narrow minded locals were some pretty pink peach blossoms just as sweet as any Georgia bloom. Uncle Bubba knew that he wouldn't cross paths with the local yokels again, but it did shed some light on the phenomenon that we all suffer from; shortsightedness. We live within a few miles of our homes and seldom leave except through what we see on TV. We'll quickly rant that we all know that what we see on TV is not real, yet it seems to drive all of our opinions and perspectives. In Bubbie's view, he got the last laugh but it didn't really seem all that funny. He pitied the rubes that didn't know what lied outside of their own community, yet was oh so happy to be rolling home. Not only that but he was thankful for his innate propensity of open-mindedness and that he got to see the beauty of a Pennsylvania peach orchard.

We're Too Cheap

As you may know, Uncle Bubba travels around America quite often and in doing so, something jumps out at him time and again. No, not deer. It's the glaring contrast in the quality of building through the ages. He mentions this because the phenomenon is in accord with the steady decline in our American ethos. As y'all may know, he has been rambling through the farmlands in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania recently and around every turn, history abounds. After all, this is not far from where our country was governed prior to the establishment of Washington. The landscape is studded with old yet meticulously maintained stone houses, many predate our constitution.

They were built by people with ancient (European) values that understood that a job wasn't worth doing if it wasn't done to the highest standard. They didn't need to be told how to build a structure, the homes and barns predate building codes. So could a case be made that with the increase in laws a correlating decrease occurs in individual deference? Bubbie apologized for digressing from his discourse. But the two neighboring properties in photos below are an example of what Uncle Bubba was pointing out. In the foreground is a modern wood framed, vinyl sided, aluminum clad complex. It was built cheaply with inferior materials. Do y'all reckon that it will hold up over time like the pristine, Italianate style structure on the hill in the background?

In Bubbie's view, we can never go back. Look out your window; like the architecture that we so easily look past, America is on a new course with new principles. We need to consider where these principles come from as well as our individual participation and legacy.

The Snail

Uncle Bubba rose on a cool morning. It rained during the night but the clouds had passed and the sun was peaking through the trees. As he walked out of his front door, the hot steam from his caldron of coffee was outright comforting against the damp air. Looking down he noticed a snail crossing his porch. He studied it for a moment, considering how long it must have taken to crawl its distance during the night. Thinking that he'd help it along it's way, he picked it up to place it on a rock in the flower garden. The moment he touched its shell the little snail quickly recoiled into it's curly little home upon its back. "Don't worry lil' fella." Bubbie said, "I'm just trying to help you. Wouldn't want you to get stepped on." He carefully placed the snail on the wet rock in the garden and walked back inside to finish getting ready for work. He walked out to his old black Ford pickup truck shortly thereafter and noticed the snail still in the same spot as where he had left it. "You'd better get moving my friend." Bubbie said. The thought crossed his mind that the little snail was exposed for a hedgehog to make a meal out of as he climbed into his truck and drove away. Returning home later in the day the little snail was gone. Uncle Bubba wondered if it crawled off or became a hedgehog hors d'oeuvre.

In Bubbie's view, this is the story of humanity. In our attempt to help others, we often put them in a position that they are not ready to deal with. Conversely, when we are moved out of our comfort zone we recoil and dig our heels in. Some folks never recover and are devoured by the very thing that they are trying to avoid.

Markers Demarcating The Remarkable

On a sunny, early spring day, Uncle Bubba drove the twisting two lane highways that snake between the farmland and pastures of Pennsylvania. The brown hillsides masked the gliding hawks that preside over the golden farm fields until they appear against the light blue sky or turn to reveal their golden feathers in the sun's reflection. He drove through the townships and boroughs from hamlets to crossroads, past stone houses and barns. After passing archaic gothic churches, their flanks guarded with grave yards, a few things occurred to Bubbie. To him, the headstones mark the remarkable lives of those of whom have passed; each one a story. You see, Uncle Bubba has an odd affinity to cemeteries; so let me back up to a time when Uncle Bubba was just a little Bubbie. He was barely big enough to see over the front seat of his parents blue Ford station wagon. His mama would pack a picnic basket with bologna sandwiches, or worse yet, cheese and mustard that were so thin and dry that you'd think you were eating corrugated cardboard. It was always mustard on the sandwiches because his mama would worry that mayonnaise would grow salmonella during the car ride. Once the station wagon was loaded, they'd head out for the annual trip to visit his grandfather's family at the old farm. For hours they would ride further and further out into the countrysides. The distance between towns and houses would expand as they traveled into the farmland until his father would turn the car into the driveway of the old homestead. They would cross the railroad tracks and pass a small apple orchard beside the old gray farmhouse. It was gray because it's dried wooden planks had not seen paint in a hundred years if ever at all. The tradition after visiting with the old folks was to head to a cemetery and begin the headstone hunt for lost relatives. Invariably it would be lunchtime and right there in the cemetery, Bubbie's mama would lay out a blanket and set up lunch from the picnic basket. After a hot bologna sandwich and a glass of water, Bubbie was free to wander among the graves. "Don't step on them!" his mother would harken as she packed up the basket. So as a little boy Bubbie had developed a relationship with the carved granite blocks, the sunken ground, and the spirits that pass thru there.

Now, as he drove by a cemetery on this early spring day, he considered that a portion of these grave markers were from pre-civil war times. He envisioned all of the people in the America. Just driving, even on these back country roads, there's so many houses, and so many vehicles on the road; people everywhere. Yet it occurred to him that there aren't enough grave markers to account for all of the dead that have passed in the past 250 years. Why is that? And why do you almost never see anyone visiting a cemetery? Of the hundreds that Bubbie has driven past in the past year or so he can't recall ever seeing anyone just visiting a cemetery short of the caretaker mowing or weed-whacking around the headstones. He's not saying that no one ever visits to pay their respects, but it is rare… watch for yourself.

Bubbie mentioned that he would be remiss if he didn't elucidate on the spiritual aspect of his cemetery exposé. In general terms, he believes that a person's soul leaves their body as the body dies, yet where the body is laid to rest there is a spiritual connection, an opening of energy to which a spirit can access our world and we can connect with them. This area of energy is more to our benefit since we are grounded in the physical world. It is available but optional depending on the spirit and us, after all, it takes two to make a relationship. In Bubbie's view, we are too intent on living within our little world that we ignore those that have come before. In doing so we disregard the lessons their lives could teach us, which destine us to repeat them.

Mr. Perfect

No matter how good one tries to live their life, there are trials and tribulations the come along to shake things up and rock the boat. Some of them are small and insidious like a mole burrowing through your flower garden. Others, like the lyrics of many a rock song, will rock you like a hurricane. Uncle Bubba had just such an encounter not so long ago. While within the throes of an argument aimed at evoking a visceral reaction and putting Bubbie on the defensive, his foe declared that he, Bubbie, thought that he was perfect. Bubbie shared with me that at the time the accusation was made, he realized that the person was setting a trap for him that he deflected and he did not address the comment. But in speaking with me about it, he said that in an odd way it was a punch in the gut. He felt that he was getting busted for putting his best foot forward. After all, he never said that he was perfect, ever. He doesn't even think that he's perfect and knowing him as I do, I know that this is true. He is a humble man that would love to do nothing more than help a brother out. Another endearing quality of Bubbie is his willingness to admit when he is wrong. As he always says, he's all about moving ahead, not saving face. But here are some of the things that stuck in the craw of Mr. Perfect *kidding*. Uncle Bubba grew up in an era when children were encouraged to do their best because life is a competition. It was a social notion that those who worked hard got farther in life, meaning that they got a better job with better pay and better benefits. This would translate into having a nice home and the accompanying amenities, and a beautiful wife. Bingo! He played sports and won awards and trophies for excelling over the competition. He was a boy scout and worked on acquiring badges to attain higher ranks. He was groomed, often against his will, to constantly be achieving the next best thing. Throughout his adult life he has followed this format for which he was trained over and over, sometimes failing but often achieving whatever he was attempting to accomplish. It's the curse of the ego; more, more, more. And as you may know if you've read this blog, that he is not one to rest on his laurels. Bubbie finds joy in exploring, learning, and discovering new things. He is vigilant of his own potential shortcomings to see if there is any area for new growth, which we know is a never ending quest due to our human fallibility. Uncle Bubba mentioned that he heard of some cave paintings that were discovered in France that are 35,000 years old. There is evidence that someone worked on and touched up some of the paintings 5,000 years later, but that was still 30,000 years ago! So in Bubbie's view, that is evidence that it is in our DNA to want to keep improving, and achieving to attain our best.

Aside from this, Bubbie told me that the thing that annoyed him most about his adversary was that he was being judged by someone who really didn't know him. That person had never walked in his shoes. He was demanding that Bubbie give him respect, yet was doing nothing to deserve it. Had he taken the time to get to know Bubbie a little better and had considered Bub's point of view, he probably would have tried a different tack in dealing with him. Bubbie's view is this on that, take ownership of your own stuff and before you point the finger at someone else, look in the mirror. And if you feel that you really want to accuse someone else for your problems, make sure you consider what they are going through as well.

For What Its Worth

Bubbie jumped on the Harley and rode to the beach. The smell of the salt air as he traveled thru the sawgrass flats to get out there is transcendent, timeless. It's thick and fills his nostrils making it heavy to breathe and yet gratifying. He feels his lungs pulling the oxygen from the salty air. The warm wind on his face. Every trip out thru the sawgrass, the huge expanse of palm tree and cedar islands, if I caught a glimpse of an elephant or giraffe out of the corner of my eye I wouldn't be surprised. As a matter of fact, sometimes he thinks he has… just for a moment.

It was windy and a little overcast so the sands were sparsely dotted with naked Yankees outnumbered by the slightly more cantankerous seagulls. Sandpipers scurry and bob, their twiggy beaks probing the sand. Children chase the birds in vane. A big flock of black skimmer terns land en masse on the sand with their beaks pointed east into the wind. 

In Bubbie's view, the freedom that comes along with the ride is a spirit that we should all carry in our hearts. The beauty of our American landscape should be retained in our minds and we'd willingly sacrifice and fight for our country.

Reverse Entitlement

Entitlement as defined in the dictionary as belief that one is deserving of or entitled to certain privileges. When you think entitlement, you think of government programs. But more specifically, you think of the mentality of the lazy who’ve come to expect and depend upon the fruits of government programs passed down to them. Recently Uncle Bubba has experienced kind of a reverse entitlement that, if we admit it, is all too common. This is where lazy people have a job and are bad at it. He described his experience as the perceived entitlement of nosey busybodies that think that it is OK to get into his personal business. You know the type, the self righteous lady that has the Nazi-istic approach to customer service. They try to make their problem your problem. He or she crosses expected boundaries, not to assist you but to assist themselves in getting you to do their work for them. They are unconscionable in their annoyed attitude and lacky-ism to the company cutting their paycheck. If these people worked for us we'd fire them immediately, without question. Uncle Bubba shared an example of how insidious this reverse entitlement has penetrated our culture. Certain employees in the Human Resources Department, the department focused on the personnel regarding them as a significant asset, are far less focused on support of the person as they are in arbitrarily interpreting company policy to avoid actually working. This always results in erroneously, yet irreversibly taking money out of Bubbie's pocket simply because they can without redress. It would take effort to do more, to assist Bubbie, improving his attitude and thus retaining a good, productive employee. I offered to Bubbie that these folks had a job to do like anybody else.

He said that he didn't begrudge anyone that, it is beyond that. It is the arrogant designation of authority that these idiots (his words) think that they have over anyone in their field of view. They have tunnel vision. It's as though they've trained themselves to not recognize that we are people behind the issue that they are trying to resolve. Most of us, the victims of reverse entitlement are good people with incredibly complex and complicated lives. We have our own jobs to perform and our daily struggles. In Bubbie's view, this laziness can only be remedied through personal accountability and the recognition of our humanity.

Drunk and Disorderly

Uncle Bubba was recently in Citrus County, Florida hanging out with a few good friends. They were sitting in a tiki bar called the Freezer in the little town of Homosassa on the Gulf of Mexico. The place was packed, people were talking and laughing, the music was loud, the boiled shrimp were awesome, and the drinks were flowing; after all it is a bar. Seated at the table next to Bubbie were what appeared to be two families sitting together and thoroughly enjoying themselves. They were eating some of the incredible fare that is available at the bar and they had several pitchers of cold beer that was being imbibed by, at the very least, the men at the table. There was a young girl at the table who looked to be about 8 or 9 years old and Uncle Bubba thought to himself that he hoped that whoever was driving was not too drunk to get that little girl safely home. In Bubbie's view, if an adult wants to drink and drive and run the chance of the probable destruction that come with it, then they have that right and if something horrible results from their actions then so be it. But a child is defenseless, left to the decisions and actions of the adults that drink at an establishment and then put the child in the car to drive to the next destination.

Flash forward to December 31, 2011 and Uncle Bubba is back in Citrus County visiting over the holidays. Folks are sitting in a festive living room visiting with the TV on when a very disturbing video of what appears to be an actual car accident pops up on the TV screen. A car is flipped over with people still inside and 2 cops talking to a person in the vehicle. For a moment Uncle Bubba thinks that someone has changed the channel to the TV show "Cops" and he quickly looks around the room to see who has the remote. Uncle Bubba abstains from those types of reality shows because they are too grotesque and distressful and if you've read this blog you know that it's Bubbie's view that this type of programming is to the detriment of our society. If we could handle it, and wanted to be a party to it, we would become cops or paramedics. But most of us are not, and we don't want it piped into our homes, our safe sanctuaries from the troubling world. So Uncle Bubba sees the remote on the ottoman in front of him and realizing that no one has touched it asks,
"What IS this?"
Everyone is staring at the TV a little shocked.
"I don't know?"
Then the Citrus County Sheriff flashes onto the screen to address the dangers of drinking and driving. It was a local PSA commercial! But not only that, the Sheriff is one of the men that was sitting at the table in the Freezer drinking beer next to the little girl! Yes, the symbol of lawfulness, the bastion of societal morality! The same man that takes the liberty to pollute the road shoulders of every major intersection of the county with wrecked vehicles draped with yellow crime tape to warn citizens of the dangers of drinking and driving during the holidays! The same man that was sitting in a bar drinking beer and then walked out to a car and rode away. In Bubbie's view, American citizens should be holding our elected officials to the highest ethical standards, which should be easy because they should be doing the same of themselves.

It's the Economy Stupid

Uncle Bubba was talking to his older sister on the phone during Christmas. They were sharing the days events and Uncle Bubba mentioned how nice it was to be home after being away for so long.
"You need to find another job." She said.
That's the same thought that has been running through Bubbie's mind for the past couple of years. He replied that in one regard he likes his job, at least several aspects of it, which may be more than some people can say. However, it is hard to be away from home all he time; away from the people and places you love and getting harder all the time. He offhandedly mentioned that he was glad to have a job in this economy and if it would ever turn around, then maybe he could find a good job at home. That's when she said something that stuck in Bubbie's craw.
She said, "Ya know, I've been watching a lot of holiday movies and they are all in the setting of hard times. It doesn't matter if it's an old movie or not; and it got me thinking... has there ever been a time when we had a good economy? There was a short era after World War 2, but other than that has it ever been that great?" Uh... without doing any research, Bubba said… NO. At the very least there have been more hard times than good economic times for most of us. So why do we keep thinking that things might turn around? Why do we think that the rich and powerful are interested in improving circumstances to benefit our lives? In Bubbie's view, things are essentially the same as they've always been and you can sit and wait and wonder, or get off our collective asses and do something about it.

Uncle Dave

Uncle Bubba's Uncle Dave passed away today. He was the kindest, most generous man there ever was. It was rare to hear him say a cross word or hold a grudge about anybody or anything. He taught Bubbie and Sweet Pea to laugh at life and to treat each other good, with kindness. He loved the Lord and is in his arms tonight; in a peaceful, better place. It is an honor to have had known him and been a part of his life on earth. God bless Uncle Dave.

The Middle Of The Road

Uncle Bubba has been on the road for work and it's been another long trip: 50 days since he's seen home. The previous trip was 54 days long and it's all starting to take its toll. He's feeling more and more that he doesn't really live at home... imagine that. How could a body when they aren't actually there? Maybe luckily for him, Uncle Bubba is a little slow on the uptake so it takes time for things to sink in, but he's had almost all he can take from this job. Yet he attempts to find solace in the old fashioned notion of being a good provider and being thankful for actually having a job in this day and age. In this recent adventure, he is 1000 miles from home but in a part of the country that is just a few hours drive from where he was raised to be a man. In colonial times this would have been a long day's horse ride but today it's a straight shot up a major highway. He made the trip in early November and spent a delightful weekend in the old hometown. But so often this holiday season he has thought of the family and friends that live at the other end of that highway and wondered why none of them found a way to come to see him.  They knew that he was there day in and day out, night after night alone in his hotel room. He had pretty much convinced himself that it is because they really do not like him. And why not, actions speak louder than words; don't they? But then he came across a quotation by the essayist Edward Hoagland that states, "Country people do not behave as if they think life is short; they live on the principle that it is long, and savor variations of the kind best appreciated if most days are the same." It struck Uncle Bubba that he lives his life as if life is short. His world is big and he lives with the thought of not having regrets if the end comes tomorrow. It's his core philosophy, it's his lifestyle. He unintentionally left those folks at the end of the highway behind for that very reason and maybe they're holding a grudge because of it. But this quotation brought to mind a different perspective that he hadn't considered; these folk have their own core philosophies and lifestyles that they will not change for any reason. Aren't we always trying to get others to see our point of view without ever taking the time to consider theirs? In Bubbie's view there are a few people at the other end of that highway that he would like to try and meet in the middle of the road. For that, someone may have to realize that a highway runs two ways and to meet in the middle takes effort. In the end the parties that be should weigh the value of commonalities; to quote Mr. Hoagland, "...both try to cherish in their mind's eye the notion of a better life ahead."