Quitcherbitchin!

Uncle Bubba's daddy once told him that those who cry the loudest have the most to lose. As little Bubbie grew to become a young man, he worked for several rich ol' skinflints and he began to see what daddy was talking about. Now that he's a man's man he knows exactly what daddy meant; there's a lot of people in this country crying about the economy and none wallerin and bellyachin' more than the uppity middle class and rich sons-a-bitches 'cause they don't want to lose one red cent out of their piggy banks. Well, hell, no one does, but quit crying about what you might lose and blaming the other side and start offering some innovative solutions.  In Bubbie's view we should be creating an independent, objective think tank of the most brilliant minds in America, geniuses man, to come up with a solution to right this country and bring it back to an economic super power. If this is being done, Uncle Bubba is unaware of it and says he is sincerely sorry for his ignorance of political current affairs. But don't tell Bubbie that rich Americans don't know how to make money, even in a "bad" economy; it behooves him why they only want to keep those secrets to themselves and not divulge them for the good of our country.

MIA on Father's Day

I stopped by Uncle Bubba's place for a visit and didn't see him about the yard so I walked up to the house and knocked on the door. Sweet Pea answered and said that he had been working on a piece of wooded property out behind the house for a few months and I could find him there. I thanked her and walked the trail that lead out behind the house and through a field. Uncle Bubba had kept this hay field mown yet I easily followed the narrow path to a small hardwood forest that was cut by the many steps of one man's work boots. I was aware that Uncle Bubba had often used this tract of woods to hunt and in one of his sojourns he noticed that there was a fare bit of trash that had somehow found its way mixed in with the brown leafy floor. There were also some remnants of the old farm of which his land had been subdivided, in the form of pieces of metal and equipment. Like fossils of dinosaurs, their boney shapes reveal a hint of what they used to be. Uncle Bubba had taken it upon himself to do something about getting the forest back to it's pristine natural beauty by picking up the trash and removing the rusty metallic implements.

I walked slowly, taking in the beauty of the day and the scenery around me while watching for Uncle Bubba up ahead. I passed a dirty pile of rusted metal that Bubbie had collected and staged near the edge of the woods and was impressed with his progress. I considered that it might be a challenge to find Bubbie in the expanse of woods. Perhaps I would hear him or catch a glimpse of him moving. To my surprise I found him moments later; he was sitting on a big log on the edge of the woods staring out across the field. As I walked up behind him he seemed to be in deep thought and oblivious to my presence. I said hello and took a seat beside him on the log, shifting my weight to find a comfortable spot. He said, "Hey" and then turned back to looking out over the field. His demeanor was of a man that was waiting more than a man taking a rest. I attempted to make small talk but Uncle Bubba was disinterested.
After what seemed like a long silence, Bubbie said, "Ya know I've worked on these woods for a while, spent a good piece out here. I know that I didn't create the woods, but reckon I've done my best to give it care. I know that short of somethin' tragic it will out live me."
"Uh huh," I hummed, wanting to acknowledge my listening.
"As much as I love nature," he went on, "and give my best to be a good steward, I know that it is not about me; it's about the bigger thing..."
The scratching of two squirrels scurrying up a big old oak tree caught my attention and I watched them play tag through the tree's canopy.
Bubbie continued, "Sometimes you give your best and it doesn't work out. That's life."
We sat there silent for a while; the sunlight dappled warm on our faces through the green leaves. I knew that it wasn't the wooded lot that he was talking about, it was beautiful. And I had seen how much trash that he had removed; no, there was something else on his mind. In Bubbie's view, one can care immensely about something, or someone, and want the best and give the best but that doesn't mean that everything will always turn out rosy. That also means that you still give it your best.

Climbing The Walls

Uncle Bubba got an invite from his nephew to try something new. His nephew is a member at a gym that features indoor rock climbing and thought Uncle Bubba might like to give it a try. Always looking for a new adventure he quickly accepted. Sure, it crossed his mind that he had 20 years on his nephew and he might not be in great shape, but preaching that people get off of their lazy arses and not go for it himself would be hypocritical, so Bubbie met his nephew after work for an adventurous workout. He admittedly has seen folks partake in this activity in the past and thought, "What's the big deal? It's not like real rock climbing." And it's not. But it is a challenge that taxes muscles in the body that have been long forgotten.

Going on 30 years ago, Uncle Bubba was a tree climber. He worked for several arborist outfits, climbing trees and cutting them down. He thought nothing of strapping on a saddle harness and hooks to his feet and walking up through the canopy of an ancient monster, tying himself in and repelling back down eventually safely touching down on terra firma. But this was a different experience than the one he was facing in the gym. There were tall walls and short walls all speckled in colorful little blobs in random and variegated, challenging layouts.

Uncle Bubba wedged his size 12s into a pair of climbing shoes that were at least a size 10. The fella that worked at the counter assured him that he had given him the correct size and that one's toes should be slightly bent. Bent? How about bent and retracted like a frightened turtle with a neck sprain! He was assured that the shoes should only be slightly painful to know that they're fitting correctly. They then proceeded to give Uncle Bubba a lesson in tying knots and belaying, which is holding the smart end of the climbing rope while one's partner is climbing, and they were ready to ascend. to Uncle Bubba's surprise the first climb was challenging but not too difficult. He made it to the top and was feeling pretty good, like a kid again. His nephew took on more challenging walls and they swapped turns climbing and belaying.

After an hour and a half they decided that they'd had enough, especially Bubbie. It's a total body workout and he was feeling it. Bubbie wondered what he'd feel like the next day when he got his monkey butt to work. As it turned out he was pleasantly surprised that he felt well... he's in better shape then he thought! In Bubbie's view, climbing the walls is definitely worth a try and he's looking forward to going back again. Good times!

Eggs-Treme Chaos

Ya'll wanna know what's wrong with America? Nobody cares anymore. Oh sure, we hear people bitchin' about everything under the sun, on the news, at work, in stores, in restaurants. But look around at people's actions and it speaks volumes. Uncle Bubba lives in a town like most towns in America, not a city, not a ghetto, just an average American town. That's why when he and Sweet Pea went to the grocery store to buy a dozen eggs, what they found was so disturbing; it was eggs-treme chaos!

How do we think that this is OK? Why is it acceptable to not neatly place things back in an orderly way in a public setting? Are we animals? In Bubbie's view, this is a glaring egg-sample of what is wrong with America. Straighten up! Do the right thing and use your dang manners!

Memorial Day

Uncle Bubba watched one of those self-serving news story about the Vermont marble used to make the headstones of our fallen service men and women. In the sadness that we have to have such an item, it was Bubbie's view that at least we are honoring them with our own materials, mined from our own country, carved, shaped and finished by our own citizens. This was not the intension of the news story line, but in this day and age any glimmer of our former America is worth pointing out. Within the camera shots presented in the news piece it appeared that no illegal aliens were employed in the work environment and no foreign countries are profiting from the death of our heros, at least not in this small capacity. A rarity today y'all; Vermonters, Uncle Bubba salutes you!

It has been reported that 6000 Americans have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. And after 10 years can anyone say who we are fighting with over there? Uncle Bubba attempted a Google search to find out how many troops we have still fighting in the Middle East and it turned out to be futile. He told me that he typed in "How many American troops are fighting in the Middle East?" and couldn't find a definitive answer. Why?

Uncle Bubba thanks the American Troops and their families for their service to our country. God bless you all.

Fall of the Wall, Fall of the World

Uncle Bubba was laid back in the lazy boy, he'd reared back and shifted it into low and was cruising the channels on his jumbo flatscreen. Have you noticed that there is some annoying lag in channel surfing, whether its due to the amount of bandwidth needed for HD or what; does anyone know? So as he's flipping through channels, it hangs for a moment on one that shows Ronald Reagan and Gorbachev shaking hands and then quickly cuts to a longhaired dude wildly whacking on the Berlin wall with a sledge hammer and Bubbie's thinks, "That was a big mistake!" And he's right. Ever since the fall of the Berlin wall and thusly Russia, our world has turned to stinking steaming mound of manure. Like it or not, the Cold War gave the world some structure with the two superpowers acting as bookends holding things together. Think about it; how quickly has the world's civilization declined since those heady days of faux freedom? Now our enemies are now sneaky, unseen, dirty sand dwellers with no geographical boundaries or civilized ethic. They don't fight and kill soldiers, they kill anyone anytime; civilians, woman and children. And the world economy has bottomed out sinking our ship and leveling us all to an elevated 3rd world status. Let's be honest, our policing of the world and multiple war strategy is nothing more than our fearful leaders' solution to job creation. What better way to employ our young adults? If we bring them home, there aren't any jobs here for them short of boarder patrol. In Bubbie's view, we should be careful of what we wish for; how many screw-ups have we perpetuated in the name of spreading democracy? Oh, and happy Cinco De Mayo gringo!

Obama's Osama Coup

Now that's a mouthful and if Uncle Bubba had a buck for every time he's heard to two names mistakenly interchanged this week... Bubbie's childhood friend, Grizzly Bore Goutfoot thinks that Osama's death is fake, a ruse portrayed by the President. His basis is that there hasn't been a picture showing a dead Osama. For God's sake, does our national interests have to appease every Joe Blow American and his cockamamy ideas? The thought crossed Uncle Bubba's mind to Photoshop one and send it as a joke, but only for a moment. It wouldn't be worth wasting one's time; after all, as Bubbie said, he's trying to have a rational conversation with an irrational person. But Uncle Bubba's response was that he thinks he's dead and it's a moral victory. It doesn't end the wars or change the rotten state of the world. It just feels good to know that one less asshole is in the world. Now if we could just get Palin to shut her hateful pie hole; but that's another story for another day. Here's an argument; maybe the uncertainty caused by no picture of Osama's carcass is driving his followers absolutely crazy. If it's messing with their minds then so be it! Keep them in the dark and see how they like it. In Bubbie's view, we need to get a life and turn our attention to rebuilding and enjoying our American lifestyle.

Crew Cuts

At Sweet Pea's behest, Uncle Bubba decided it may be a good time to head down to the barber shop to get the husk cropped of off his melon. He's fixin' to go out of town to work for a spell and you don't necessarily want to your hairs cut in a strange town. You never know what kind of froo froo shop you might stumble into. Some of those fancy salons want to cut your hairs, give you a massage, and polish your extremities. No way, not for Uncle Bubba! He's too much of a man's man to have any part of that! In Bubbie's view, you can't beat a barber shop like the one he goes to; Jimmy's. Jimmy not only gives you a great tight cut on your flattop, but if need be he'll even grind your stump!

How's Your Constitution?

Uncle Bubba's physical state with regard to vitality, health, and strength is better than most. He's a man's man. He's a throwback to the type of American that prided one's self on conduct based on ethics, loyalty, and service to others. He is a man of strong constitution. That's why he was knocked to his knees when he happened to be handed a tiny paper booklet titled U.S. Constitution. It had been many years, the school years of his youth since he had actually read the U.S. Constitution. He, as probably most Americans, know what the ideals of the Constitution are; however cannot recite specifics or relate it to our present government. Who knows, perhaps most people don't realize that it was written to put limitations on the powers of the Federal government. But here's a reminder, and when you hear it you'll say, "Of course, I knew that." The men that created it were imbued with the protection of each states' ability to govern independently. Their biggest fear and concern was creating a monster, a tyrannical empire.

Today we suffering our own laziness in our involvement in government. Oh sure, we bitch, but that's the extent of the energy we expend. Even the Tea Baggers, though they hold rallies, do nothing more than rail. If you look at a typical Tea Party rally it would be laughable if it weren't so sad. Hundreds of old farts wearing their patriotic swag yelling into the camera about how much they hate, yes HATE, President Obama and the Federal Government. OK, it's their right under the First Amendment. But the picture paints a hundred thousand words; angry, old, out of touch, bitchers. Of all the complaining about the shape that the countries in, does anyone offer a viable solution? Everyone complains, but who ever offers a redress, a resolution to the grievances? Our politicians give us the same old smoke and mirrors rhetoric. That is lying, not leadership. In Bubbie's view, we'll never get anything accomplished by wishing to move backward to better times, the good old days. He has been steady in his values so he does not have to go back to a better way, he lives his best everyday; his conduct are habits based on ethics, loyalty, and service to others.

Eugene Nix

Mama always said, "Stupid is as stupid does." Uncle Bubba was driving along on the 4 lane when a big 4 wheel drive pickup truck passed him in the left lane. Hanging from the trailer hitch was set of chrome testicles. What a choice of ornament. Sweet Pea commented that he had to hang them there because his wife has his in his purse. Hmmm, she may be onto something...

But the bigger question is how do you explain to someone that thinks that is acceptable that its offensive? If they think no more than to blatantly display something that our society has discerned as inappropriate, then how low must their line be for appropriateness? They could not be stupid enough to not think that children will see their chrome testicles. That is obviously acceptable to them. And let's be honest, testicle man is most likely someone's daddy. Except for having to having to tolerate a conversation with such a person, Uncle Bubba would like to know what offends a person like that?

Similarly, Uncle Bubba knows a feller named Eugene Nix that thinks the unions are ruining America. Instead of being angry at the rich corporate CEO's and corrupt government officials that turn a blind eye to ethical deviousness, he thinks we should make laws against unions and all fend for ourselves. Why wouldn't Eugene support the ideals of improved working conditions and better wages? Why would Eugene be in favor of the regression of America, setting it back a hundred years in lieu of creating a better society? Perhaps he doesn't know that we've given all of our middle class jobs, like manufacturing, to other countries. There's not enough work for Americans to do anymore. Even the construction jobs in our own country have gone to the illegals, if you doubt it just walk by any job site. Uncle Bubba would like to know how Eugene can accept the rich getting richer at the expense of America? Maybe its in his name, Eugene, meaning hereditarily endowed with noble qualities. In Bubbie's view, if that were true then Eugene would be fighting mad to give everyone, especially his own children the opportunity to have a nice piece of the American dream.

Bad Boys, Bad Boys, Whatchagonnado

Uncle Bubbie escorted Sweet Pea out for evening with friends to celebrate the birthday of a friend. The group sat dining in a restaurant and bounced light repartee across the table. The birthday "girl" is recently single and of course among the topics of discussion was the topic of single men. Bubbie sat quietly, vainly trying to distract himself as the women chatted about the types of men and who would be best for whom. Several men tried to interject and Bubbie scoffed to himself of their foolishness as they were immediately cut down by the women.

One of the first suggestions that is always served up for a volley is a bad boy. Women like bad boys. They think that they're sexy and that's where Uncle Bubba draws the line at deciphering the female mind. However, on many occasions he has been a witness to the mystical attraction of women to the bad boy, after all it takes one to know one. But as Sweet Pea says, courtin' a bad boy is the best thing goin' until you have to live with 'em for a while. In Bubbie's view it takes one hell of a women to hang in there with a bad boy for the long run. Bad boys, bad boy, whacha-gonna-do-widum?

Bumpin' Bees

Every once in a while something so small and seemingly mundane happens and if we didn't take a moment to stop and look we'd miss it like a star falling in the night. This was Uncle Bubba's experience just the other day. He was washing the car in the driveway and unwittingly perceived the buzzing of bumble bees behind him. It was not an unusual sound to hear, he was used to it where he lives, but the buzzing was somewhat magnified and his country boy mind got the idea that there was more than one a-buzzin' 'round his head. Looking back over his shoulder he saw three big ol' fat bumble bees hovering around a white blossom on a wild pepper tree, just about head high.

3 bumble bees - 1 flying lower center,
1 right edge, 1 on the flower

One bee, appearing larger than the other two landed on the blossom and proceeded to go to work searching for it's nectar. The other two buzzed around urgently, occasionally tussling with each other mid flight. Now, Bubbie's been around watching wildlife long enough to know that there was something going on here of the reproductive nature. Yessir, he figured there were two boy bees lookin' to bump uglies with that big ol' girl perched up on that flower. His gentlemanly sensibilities caused him to pause and consider whether or not he wanted to get to knowing about what was going on in any further detail, but in all his years he didn't reckon he'd ever seen such a bumble bee thing so he pulled out his cellphone camera and coyly snapped a couple pictures. He wasn't sure that bees even mated in such a manner but it sure looked like that's what was going down! With a little research later on he discovered that booty bumpin' bumble bees was most likely what he had witnessed.

Bubbie was a little red-faced telling me about it as if he'd witnessed something in a back alley behind a beer garden; almost ashamed that he had photographed it. But in Bubbie's view, it is such a rare and natural thing that he felt obliged to share it. Ain't love grand?

Secret Society?

Uncle Bubba begrudgingly pulled the old Ford into the filling station. Watching the rolling gas prices on the station signs is much like watching the spinning displays on a Las Vegas slot machine. Uncle Bubba gambles at the gas game like a New York stockbroker plays the stock market; should I buy now or will the price drop tomorrow? Does he have enough fuel in the tank to ride it out for a few days? After all, filling up a pickup truck these days makes his bank account drop like a lead zeppelin. This also influences the way he drives, he's less likely to get on it and git-r-dun! These days he tends to feather the accelerator a little but more. But that doesn't go for everyone; why just the other day he had his doors blown off by an old fart in a big ol' Crown Vic. You've seen the type, a hard looking old dude with his little old lady's head barely peeking above the passenger's side window waaaaaaay over on the other side of the car from the old man behind the wheel. Bubbie glanced at the Crown Vic as it passed and he noticed the license plate with a smile. Apparently this old fella is a member of a secret society, the Freemasons. Uncle Bubba knows because it was engraved on the license plate!

Obviously keeping a secret is not a requirement of belonging to this particular secret society. The Freemasons are factitiously tied to other historic secret societies that have ostensibly shaped the world. They deny, with a nod, the affiliation with presidents and other world leaders. Bubbie thinks that having brains is not a requirement either on account of the number of members that are our political leaders. For that matter, being rich and having smarts aren't necessarily tied together but that's a whole 'nuther story. Grumpy old men driving around in gas guzzlers with masonic symbols glued to their trunks seem innocuous, but how much power must they be affiliated with to get state license plates? If you watch TV and listen to the news you'll undoubtedly hear how bad these economic times are. But if you look at what is going on around you, you'll notice that there are an awful lot of people, with a lot of money going about their business. In Bubbie's view, they don't want you to notice and since the dawn of time, have travelled within their own circles so as not to draw attention to themselves... even them grumpy old FNC lovin', masonic trunk decoratin', tea baggers.

President's Day On The River

Uncle Bubba celebrated President's Day in fine fashion; he spent a few glorious hours drifting peacefully along the river. Strong breeze blew and and gusts pushed his small craft from bank to bank as he rudders it with his paddle. These placid moments are a welcome relief to the stresses he's had lately. Leaning back he watches a flock of ibis as they skitter across the beautiful blue sky, the sun flashing off of the white feathers.

The speed of the flock is rousing as they streak overhead in orchestrated figure eights and s-turns angling for the trees on the river's shore. Like clown acrobats with silly long noses and knobby twig legs they dance among the tree tops

only to jump back up into the air again; maybe it's the wind, or their nerves, or in Bubbie's view they may have just been havin' fun.

The Ol' Black Truck

Uncle Bubba took advantage of the beautiful sunny weather today and gave a little TLC to the ol' black Ford. She's been garage bound for the past year while Bubbie has been living and working on the road, until recently only coming out for occasional short jaunts running errands. Since Uncle Bubba has been working at the ranch with the Duke he's run the ol' Ford up the road regularly for a couple weeks and he's noticed the old girls finish hasn't been gleaming in the sun. She was dull and streaked and not looking as she should. So today Bubbie rolled out of the rack, backed her out of the garage and suds'd her up. Just washing the layer of lime rock dust off of her, he was sure made her feel better. Then came the Turtle wax; not just one coat but two. He treated the vinyl and plastic to a soaking massage with armor-all type protectants and washed the windows and mirrors. A big job but one done out of affection.

While Bubbie rubbed each section of the black metal skin he cringed at the many scrapes and scars on the ol' truck. The more he buffed the finish to a shine it occurred to him just how many jobs the two of them had done together and much more than that, after Bubbie moved on from so much construction work the ol' Ford still took him many miles with many smiles. Being always steady and dependable got the ol' Ford more often than not overlooked. But isn't that the case for most of us? The squeaky wheel gets the grease but the strong steady types get used, and reused. It's taken for granted that a steady bloke will be at the ready, cover the bases, deal with the situation, have your back, see it through, cut the mustard, and go the extra mile at the drop of a hat. Now, in Bubbie's view the ol' black Ford will look good gettin' it done.

Down But Not Out

Recumbent on his couch, Uncle Bubba looks out of his window at the budding trees blossoming against the beautiful cobalt sky. Spring is just around the corner. Bubbie has procured a rhino virus and is drowsily drifting through the day. Slipping in and out of consciousness, he passes episodes of TV programs wondering what was on and what he's watching now. It doesn't really matter since there is nothing of any value on the television anyway, but who isn't down for a good movie.

It's also Sweet Pea's birthday today and he is lamenting that he can't party like he'd like to. She is so good to him and treats him like a king and she deserves so much. He got the old Ford pointed up the rode and picked up some KFC with mashed taters and slaw and picked up a cake so at least they'll have a little treat. Luckily they was havin' a chicken sale and he scored a 10 piece for the price of a six. Sweet Pea ought to be happy.

Isn't it often at these times when one may be laid up that we consider all of the things that we'll do when we're feeling better again. This is the way it is for Bubbie. Being one that has to always be doing something, it's difficult for him to just lay around. He tries to look ahead at better days and appreciate what a lucky guy he is for having relatively very good health. He's certainly had his share of wrecks and near death experiences as any red-blood American boy has... well, he's not too sure about the post video game era of American boy; in Bubbie's view they seem a little soft.

But the days are getting longer and better days are on the horizon. Bubbie has a list of projects to get accomplished around the homestead and the Duke has a list for him too. So he'll rest for the remainder of  of the day and dream of adventures to come.

A Muster of Storks

Uncle Bubba had a little time on his hands and went out for a stroll. Always on the outlook for any wildlife, something stark white caught his eye and noticed a muster of storks hiding out along the riverbank. It must have been a slow baby delivery day.

Horsing Around

Uncle Bubba had to go see a man about a horse... literally. The Duke called and said he was heading to the Oak Ridge training center to take delivery on a high strung hay burner and wanted to know if Bubbie wanted to oblige him in getting the equine unloaded from a trailer. Always up for an adventure with the Duke, Bubbie rode shotgun over to the training facility.

Oak Ridge is one of many horse racing training facilities in the area and typical of what you might find at any; long barns of well maintained stalls, piles of wood shavings, sawdust and horse manure, beautiful long-legged, muscled animals and herds of brown, spanish speaking gremlins earnestly attending to the thoroughbreds.

Uncle Bubbie watched as so many of the expensive and pampered animals were walked inside wooden rings, one gray ghost coyly peaking out at Bubbie in the cool morning air.

There are miles and miles of brown wooden fence surrounding grazing horses and a long, mile and a half track down the hill from the barns where the jockeys exercise the galloping athletes.

It's when one comes across an environment as this that one realizes the extent of immigration, legal or otherwise, has ballooned in America. Would anyone argue that money equals power? So the ones that hold the purse strings control the situation and they don't want you to know that while they are vehemently objecting to illegal immigration on Fox News, they are the very cause of it; hiring indentured servants at a cut rate price to serve their every menial need. In Bubbie's view, it has become a supersaturated solution and, sadly, passed the point of no return.

A Lumbering Lightness

Hey Y'all. Uncle Bubba thought we should document this refreshing rarity. For the uninitiated, here are pictures of a true lumberyard.

Yes, long before the likes of Home Depot and Lowes Walmartized the landscape of building material establishments, we used to be able to drive our pickup trucks into the yard next to the store that was abundantly stacked with piles of lumber.

One could pull up to the stack and load it directly onto the bed of a truck, often with yard employees assistance, and drive out paying at a drive-up booth.
What an efficient, time saving, and convenient idea!

Yet today's mega home improvement stores have put most of these lumberyards out of business, gone like so many mom and pop stores decimated by Walmart and the like. Now a hard working man has to park his pickup, get a cart and wheel it into a store, push it around loading lumber, wheeling it to the checkout counter, push it through the parking lot, then load it onto their truck, and as any decent person should do, return the cart to a designated area. In Bubbie's view, wasting time handling and re-handling, loading and re-loading lumber is best for the store, not the poor guy trying to make a living. Well, let's hope that the true lumberyard doesn't completely disappear 'cause they just make good sense.

Missing In Comedic Karma

Recently, Uncle Bubba was contacted by an old friend. Not just any old friend, but is oldest bestest friend. As the two were coming up as young cubs they were nearly inseparable and what mischievous stunts they didn't think of and crazy adventures shared. Their friendship was reinforced by a quick and slightly twisted sense of humor that carried them through the most awkward of teenage exploits. They could entertain one another for hours on end and Bubbie cannot think a a single time that they ever had a cross word or argument. In each other's company it was all fun, all the time. But then as young men their travels took them in different directions and before long they were miles apart both figuratively and literally.

Now, speaking for Uncle Bubba, his desire is to set the record straight. Of course we all know that each of us always wants to set the record straight, which only means their perception of the truth. In light of this, Bubbie is old school in most of his characteristics. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is fiercely loyal to a fault. His kind of love can be consuming and overwhelming to a weaker constitution. So when he says that he loved his bestest friend, he does not make the statement lightly. But here's the rub; Bubbie never realized that no one, and I mean no one thinks like he does. He thinks that his odd eccentricities are normal behavior to the rest of the world, except that he can't find it in anyone else and that creates his internal angst and mind bending turmoil. So Bubbie's record may be a little off center of reality, but its earnest.

Uncle Bubba has had previous "reconnections" with old friends in the past that did not go well at all so he avoids the process to the point, some may say, of hiding out, you know, keeping an unlisted number and guarding his identity online--no Facebook. So when his oldest bestest friend contacted him his stomach flip-flopped and his heart raced. Would this really be a good thing or another heart-wrenching heartache? His sensitive innards do not do well with heartache.

Straight up, Uncle Bubba loves his Sweet Pea. Has for nearly 30 years. She has been, is now, and forever will be his sweetheart and best friend and they have been through hell and high water together. They've invested in one another and have reaped the rewards of their devotion day in and day out. When Bubbie and his oldest bestest friend parted ways, Sweet Pea was there. She became Bubbie's total devotion. She knows Bubbie like Carl Sagan knew the cosmos. He was enamored by it's particles and understood the forces of energy on heavenly bodies such as motion and gravity, but for every super nova there is a black hole, and sides to planets never seen not to mention the vacuity between the particles. One could never know it all. As much as Sweet Pea is Bubbie's everything, our souls contend with our humanity. To quote John Donne, no man is an island.

So Bubbie and his oldest bestest friend have reconnected and in Bubbie's view it has been a blessing. His oldest and bestest friend, McFisher, short of Sweet Pea of course is still the nicest, most genuine and funniest person that he knows. And this reuniting revealed something missing in Bubbie's life like finding a lost jigsaw puzzle piece in the couch cushions, reigniting a spark of fun in Bubbie's life that could only come from an intimate kinship and he now has someone in sync with his wacky sense of humor. In Bubbie's view, is there anything better than when someone else gets it?