tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54892201994548215842024-03-08T05:41:35.341-08:00Water Under the Bridge<b>In the end it's all just water under the bridge anyway. We can't change the past and I sometimes wonder if we can change the future. All we can do is wait a while and see what happens.</b>
<br><br>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-86520921900204521512009-05-03T06:12:00.000-07:002009-05-03T06:16:47.767-07:00And - the heart of a competitorBut, on the other side of the coin is competitive fishing. Here is where the big boys take over. Here is where the joy of just being out there is forgotten - no longer important. Here the focus is simple and ruthless. The focus is; Win, baby! Beat the other guys! Leave not a man standing! And - the worse you beat them the better. You want them to remember how badly you beat them. At the next tournament you want to see them looking at you with fear and doubt in their eyes. You want them to remember - to know - today you're going to beat them again.<br /><br />I fished tournaments when I was a younger man - when I had the stamina to stand on the front deck of a bass boat for eight hours or more - constantly casting - constantly analyzing and, most important, constantly worrying about the other competitors. They never leave your mind. Have they found fish, are they into big fish, have they already limited out. The physical abuse is terrible but the emotional abuse is worse. As you weigh-in at the end of a tournament you'll be sky high knowing you've won or, and this is more likely, you'll be down - slump-shouldered - beaten like a whipped dog. In either case you'll be drained, physically and emotionally. <br /><br />Competitive fishing leaves no room to sit back and enjoy the day. You watch the surroundings and the weather, but only because these things affect the fishing and you certainly won't take the time to see the beauty of nature. You eat nothing - you drink very little. Drinking water takes away casts. If you ain't casting you ain't catching. You concentrate on the things that matter. The shoreline breaks, the depth finder, submerged structure that might hold fish, these are all you care about. And the constant pressure of lure selection, water temperature, water movement, barometric pressure, probable movement of the bass, all these have to be analyzed and mentally updated routinely, without even realizing you're doing it. Whether you're fishing a club tournament or fishing for money - it's the same. The difference between a winner and an also-ran is the ability to deal with the pressure. As they say; keep your head while those around you are losing theirs.<br /><br />Consider this; it's six in the morning. It doesn't matter if it's a fine summer day or a blustery cold early spring morning. It can be clear, the sky promising a perfect day, or it can be windy and raining buckets, promising an altogether miserable day. You'll either freeze all day or the wind will beat you unmercifully. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Nothing stops a tournament - nothing except an electrical storm - nothing except lightning. Lightning within several miles will delay or even halt a tournament - it's that dangerous.<br /><br />At the ramps dozens or hundreds of bass boats are launching, all sporting gleaming metal-flake fiberglass, in every imaginable color. All are garish - all are obscenely colorful - all are beautiful. On their transoms sit huge outboard engines of 150 to 300 horsepower, easily capable of launching their rigs to speeds of 70 to 90+ miles per hour. In order, they quickly slip down the launch ramps into the water and the engines roar to life. The sound is awesome. <br /><br />After launching each boat idles past the staging platform and draws their lottery ticket - their position in the start. Back in the early days of tournaments it was different. Someone would fire a pistol or simply shout "go?" and every boat would take off in unison. That approach was dangerous and, when several boats collided in their haste to get to their favored fishing spots it ended. Since the mid-nineties boats take off one at a time, each drawing a number to determine their position in the start. To insure everyone gets the same fishing time the last boat gets extra minutes before the weigh-in. <br />You've launched, you've gotten your ticket and you've "blasted off." Now you're running up-lake, heading for the area you pre-fished last week, one of the areas you know holds good fish. You get there and rejoice! No one's there. It's all yours! As you approach the spot you throttle back the big engine and shut it down. Even as you're rig slides to a stop you're on the front deck, flipping the electric motor into the water - grabbing one of the dozen rods strapped neatly to the deck. You take a moment to scan your surroundings - the depth finder - and then throw your first cast. The tournament - the pressure - has begun.<br /><br />At the end of the day you know. You either got it right or you miscalculated. Your live well holds fish or it doesn't. You fish until the last minute, hoping for a kicker fish, a fish that will bring you over the top. No matter how many are in the well. One more big one so you can cull one of the dinks! You need one more big one! It's all about pounds. How many pounds? If you have five two pounders you worry. Someone must have caught a couple six pounders. If you have two six pounders you know someone must have caught five three pounders. If the fish were "on" and you have twenty pounds, you figure everyone must have cleaned up today. No matter what you catch - you worry.<br /><br />At the weigh-in you watch as each guy carries his bag of bass to the scales, knowing they're doing the same. You wince as a good string coming out of a live well and you thank the Lord when the string is lighter than you thought. Then it's your turn. You start pulling your fish from your live well. You're either excited by the reactions of the others, knowing they're thinking what you had thought, or your ashamed that you've been beaten. You carry them to the scales - the moment of truth - when you jump into the lead or know it's over. The thrill of victory - the agony of defeat. A check or a trophy - it doesn't matter. It's a win or a defeat. One is gut-wrenching - horrible - the other is a high you'll carry for days. If you win you enjoy the looks - the resentment - the admiration - the "who in hell does he think he is?" If you lost, the others avoid eye contact - they empathize. Now you're one of them. At best an also-ran, at worst a loser. And now you're looking at the winners and thinking, "who in hell does he think he is?"<br /><br />At the end you pull the boat onto the trailer and leave, usually to stop at a roadside cafe or quick stop, to sit, drink coffee, commiserate with others, both the winner and the losers. Here it's not about winning or losing. Now it's discussed in great good humor. Now it's just a bunch of guys sitting down to rib each other and to review their mistakes - their error in judgment - while they were out there on the water. Here the bottom guys, the losers, will take some heat from the others, from the guys who placed in the money, but here and now it's just for laughs. <br /><br />You drive home, clean the rig and put it away. You either annoy your wife, extolling your fishing prowess - your brilliance - for hours, or you sulk and simply say, "Hey! I lost! I don't want to talk about it!" If you won maybe you go out to dinner. If you lost you eat a peanut butter sandwich and go to bed early. <br /><br />Soon, within days, you once again look at the tournament schedule and begin thinking about pre-fishing the next lake or a river. It's never too early to be prepared. It's never too early to get the edge on the competition. <br /><br />And you know - this time you want to see that look in their eyes - that look of fear and doubt and, as you plan your strategy you think, Man! It's wonderful!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">It has always been my private conviction that any man who pits his intelligence against a fish and loses has it coming.<br /><br />John Steinbeck</span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-1228185334232402782009-05-02T07:10:00.000-07:002009-05-02T08:01:48.863-07:00Fishing - Almost a ReligionA well-intentioned friend made an innocent suggestion over lunch several days ago. Why not get together, three or four of us, and go fishing. His intentions were first-rate. He considered a few hours fishing to be a natural adjunct to good friends spending time together. It was a logical - it was meant in the truest sense of friendship and, for many people, it would be wonderful. For me, it would never work.<br /><br />For me, fishing is one of two things. It's something akin to a religious experience or it's a dog eat dog competition. For me, fishing is either time alone, enjoying all that nature has to offer, or, fishing; fierce, competitive fishing. To my friend, who hasn't fished much, fishing is an idle pastime, a time when friends can sit on a riverbank - drown worms - swap lies. My friend, like everyone who hasn't fished much, has no understanding of the fine art of fishing.<br /><br />Think about it in your mind's eye. Let your mind carry you to a fine spring day, a day promising seventy degree temperatures, beautiful cumulus clouds and giant bass. You push the boat off from shore, easily an hour before the sun crests the hills to the east. The inky blackness of night has given way to the neutral greys of first light. The lake is calm, there is no wind, a soft fog hovers low, clinging to the lake as cool morning air meets water still warm from yesterday's sun. The air is damp - soothing - wonderful as it dampens your skin and clothes. The distant shoreline is shrouded in mist - ghostly across the glassy surface of the lake. In your minds's eye you see the shallows along that shoreline, thick with gnarled cypress knees, long-dead downed trees, thick clumps of aquatic grasses, all invisible in the darkness. And yet, before you even get there - you see it all clearly. <br /><br />You slip into the front seat of the boat, lower the electric motor over the bow and steer slowly toward that distant shoreline. There's no hurry. Relax. Take you foot from the switch - sit back - luxuriate, taking in as much as you can. Close your eyes and feel the perfection of the moment. You know it will be fleeting - gone in mere minutes. Enjoy it while you can. Five minutes pass, ten, still you sit idly - out there in the middle of the lake, absorbing it all. Don't think. Don't analyze. Let it wash over you. Soak it all up - the beauty - the silence - and finally become aware - everything that's bothered you, right up to this very moment, is gone, washed softly away. Then there is nothing but you and this magical moment. Finally, you step softly on the foot pedal and again move toward the shoreline ahead - toward the giant largemouth bass you're surely to catch and release today. <br /><br />The fishing? Well, the fishing is secondary. Do you wan't to catch fish? Sure. Does it matter all that much? No. Fish would be nice. A ten pound bass would be nicer. But, compared to just being out there, the fish fade to a distant second. You're confident. You're always confident. You'll catch bass. If they're big enough you may put the camera on the back seat - set the self-timer - take a picture - you holding a giant. Worth remembering. Still, thirty or more years ago you started releasing fish. Killing these magnificent creatures seemed wrong somehow. And so, like all those fine fish caught so long ago, these will be returned to the lake to fight another day. <br /><br />A day alone out there must surely be worth a year in therapy. A day out there is unforgetable and yet can't be repeated. Each time will be it's own unique experience. Each time, when the day is though, you'll go home thanking the Lord for such an opportunity. And, when you're lying in bed that night, clear-headed and relaxed, your problems somehow unimportant, just before you doze off you'll remember - and you'll smile. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">“Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing it is not fish they are after.”<br /><br /> Henry David Thoreau</span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-85002135541257492532009-04-27T05:23:00.000-07:002009-04-27T06:02:42.589-07:00Whoa! Now that's a great idea!It happened again the other night. I awakened around two oclock, thinking about a new idea for a short story. I know it was a good idea because I remember being excited about it. The problem was; I really didn't want to climb out of bed in the middle of the night. At my age I do that enough just to make necessary bathroom trips. So, I decided it would wait until morning. <br /><br />In the morning I'd get to the computer and write down the idea while it was fresh in my mind. Of course, anyone over sixty knows what happened. I arose in the morning knowing I had a good idea for a story. The problem was I couldn't remember anything about it. First, I laid there in bed, racking my feeble brain, trying ineffectually to recapture the idea. It didn't work. Then, I went to the computer thinking somehow that sitting at the keyboard would help my memory. It didn't work either. The idea was gone, vanished, I mean gone for good!<br /><br />If I could I'd have kicked myself in the butt! I did it again! You see, this was not the first time I relied on my memory and, the sad truth is, every time, I mean every time, my memory has failed me. I've awakened dozens of times during the last couple of years, with a story outline worthy of a Pulitzer Prize (well, that's an exageration I'll admit) and forgotten it completely by morning. <br /><br />Why do I do it? Why don't I just keep a notebook on the bed table so I can quickly record my nocturnal thoughts? Why don't I get the thoughts down on paper while they're fresh in my mind? I suspect the answer is the same answer I once gave my parents when, as a young boy, I did something really stupid. I'd give them a big eyed innocent look and say, "Because." While it's hard to admit that I've not grown into an adult after all these years it's still the only answer I have. "Because." <br /><br />What I should do is get a notepad and pencil out of this desk drawer right now and put it on the bedroom night table right beside my bed. Then, if I have an idea tonight I'll be ready for it. I'll sit up in bed, grab the notepad and get down the bones of the story. Then, I'll never forget another great idea and when the Pulitzer Prize Committee calls I'll be glad I did it. <br /><br />But....I don't feel like getting up right now. I don't feel like rummaging through this desk drawer to find a pencil. I don't feel like walking into the bedroom and clearing a space among the half-read books stacked on the night table. So....I'll wait a while - maybe later in the day....maybe I'll do it this afternoon.....that is.....if I remember.<br /><br />arkiedan<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Memory is what tells a man that his wife's birthday was yesterday.<br />Mario Rocco<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-26173934793864897642009-04-15T05:29:00.000-07:002009-04-15T06:33:04.557-07:00Britain's got TalentYesterday a friend sent me a link to a show called "Britain's got Talent" on UTube. The clip was of a nice woman who was appearing on the show, something like American Idol, I guess, since I don't watch those shows. My friend said to give her a listen. "She's great", he said. I listened. She was a fine singer and wowed the audience and the judges. <br /><br />But! What caught my attention while I watched the eight minute clip, her beautiful voice notwithstanding, was the smarmy, arrogant attitude of the three judges and the audience. From the time the singer came on stage the three "Beautiful People," apparently the regular judges, along with the audience took one look at her rather plain appearance, heard her strong accent, and began snickering and whispering snide comments about her. To her credit she handled it well, ignoring the arrogant and rude behavior. <br /><br />Then she began singing and the ugly mood changed, a little too much in my opinion. The camera man began focusing, closeup, on the faces of the judges, on many in the audience, as they dutifully acted amazed - surprised. A couple of them, I kid you not, pretended to be crying. It was a display of insincerity such as I've not seen since Bill Clinton pretended to be in tears over the death of Vince Foster. So, here were three judges, each thinking that they are surely the prettiest of them all, and an audience, obviously there to hoot, holler and denigrate anyone who walked onto that stage, and all now driven to tears by the woman's angelic voice. Like I said; insincerity taken to a new level.<br /><br />Then, afterward, each of the judges expressed appropriate amazement and took the time to say more insincere things like, "We were all so against you before you sang. This has been such a wake up call for us." My Lord! A wake up call! How old are these people? Back when I was a kid I learned, "Don't judge a book by it's cover," and "Judge not - or you will be judged!" These nasty, small-minded little people, in their arrogance, seemed to relish being judgemental. The funny thing is; I never saw any of the three before. I don't have a clue as to who they are or why they have reason to act so superior, except, I will admit, they were pretty. <br /><br />But I'll bet they felt great, admitting they were wrong in being against her and in initially judging her by her appearance. A liberal friend, and I don't have many of those, made a rare admission several years ago. He said, "We liberals like to judge people. That way we can feel badly afterward and, you have to understand, feeling badly about ourselves assures us that we are good. In fact, it assures us that we're nicer than most other people, who we actually hate." <br /><br />My Lord! That's exactly what I watched on "Britain's got Talent" yesterday. The woman certainly had talent and I wish her great success. She deserves it. In fact, she deserved better than she got from those nasty people on that terrible show. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">“Many people are arrogant about their own modesty”<br /><br />Christopher Molineux</span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-11098880680624812492009-04-14T06:08:00.000-07:002009-04-14T06:56:22.958-07:00The Old Codgers Lunch BunchIt started a couple months ago. Three of us, two grizzled old coots and a younger guy, still wet behind the ears at 55, got together for a Wednesday lunch at a local fast food place. It was great. We ate, talked, ribbed each other and had a good time overall. In fact, it was so enjoyable we decided to make it a weekly routine. We've met every Wednesday since.<br /><br />Our conversations run from writing (we're all part of the Conway Creative Writers group,) to our assorted infirmaties and the medications we take to counter them to, of course, politics. I think we're commendably open about everything but politics, not being sure what the other guys think about specific political issues. Turns out though, we're all conservatives at heart and when we cut out the little differences we all want about the same thing (for Nancy Pelosy and Harry Reid to be gone.) So we talk openly, rib each other unmercifully and have a fine old time. So fine, in fact, that last week we met at 11:00am and didn't get out of there until after 3:00pm! Hey! We lost track of the time. I watched the place fill up and empty twice while we sat there, talking and sipping diet coke. The guy that manages the place came by the table a couple times, asking how things were, but I'll bet he was actually saying, "Lord! Would you guys go home! I need the space." So, just to look like paying customers, we ordered another round of sodas, seconds free of course, just so he'd feel better.<br /><br />In the final analysis, we don't solve any of the world's big problems. I know, I know, we don't solve any of the little ones either. But what we do though is spend some quality time with good friends, talking about things we enjoy and things that we don't enjoy. When you get right down to it, that's really plenty enough. <br /><br />I don't know how long we'll keep doing it. Things like schedules and health issues can interfere, nothing we can do about that. Still, I hope and pray we find a way to go on with these hours of fellowship. It important to me and I do believe important to the others. In fact, it seems to me that more folks should do something like this - meet with friends or, more important, family members, to just talk about nothing in particular. For me, at least, it's been like therapy. As they say, "It don't get no better than that."<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">"A friend is one who knows us, but loves us anyway." <br /><br />Fr. Jerome Cummings </span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-15077211602070776892009-04-13T06:17:00.000-07:002009-04-13T07:21:10.497-07:00You meet the nicest people around hereSo I was googling around yesterday, just looking for references to the Barham family or maybe thinking I'd get lucky enough to find some old Barham photographs when I came across two Blogger sites that caught my attention. First, the nice woman who does the blogging has the user name of "territorymom" which was enought to catch my attention. Second, in looking for Barham stories and photos I started reading some of her posts and they made me laugh out loud. She's obviously a warm-hearted and very funny lady.<br /><br />Well, I bookmarked her site and dropped her an email, thanking her for the site and for the Barham photos I had "lifted." She responded and the bottom line is, I've now got another terrific cousin I never knew I had. <br /><br />territorymom got me to thinking about family and the internet. It simply amazes me how we can now find and communicate so easily with family - great folks we would never have heard of just a short while ago. In fact, just last week I received an email from a woman in England. England! How great is that? She saw my website and wanted to talk Barhams and how we related. Like I said; Amazing!<br /><br />Anyway, territorymom is terrific and I'll visit her blog often. Here are the links to her two blogs:<br /><br />http://oklahome.blogspot.com/<br /><br />http://territorymom.blogspot.com/<br /><br />Give her a read. She's a very warm, funny lady.<br /><br />And, by the way, here's another blog by a good friend who just happens to be in our writing group, Conway Creative Writers. She's a lot like territorymom and I like her user name too; livinglifeafter65. Kind of says it all, doesn't it. Anyway, give her a read too. You'll love them both.<br /><br />p://livinglifeafter65.blogspot.com/<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">If all the nations in the world are in debt,<br />where did all the money go?<br /><br />Steven Wright</span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-14443740473367720252009-04-12T14:06:00.000-07:002009-04-12T15:28:43.907-07:00So? Are we who we say we are?I've been doing a lot of genealogical work lately, researching new family members and updating my website. Anyone who does family research knows you usually find someone who would.....how to say this?....who would embarrass our more prudish cousins, aunts and uncles. And that's the type of person I found myself going back to several times a day. When you find a hidden gem in your family's past you just have to dig deeper.<br /><br />The guy I'm talking about is a cousin from the late ninteenth century. What happened was; he ran away from his wife and two children. In fact, he ran out on his life in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia and ran all the way across the country, after a stop in Idaho to take care of some trivial matters, matters like marrying again (disregarding the pesky little problem of being married already.) After commiting bigamy he headed west to California where, by all accounts, he straightened his life out and became a good family man.<br /><br />Meanwhile, back in Virginia, his first and real wife sued him, first: for all he left behind and, second: for a divorce. Of course he never knew she won the divorce and ownership of their assets. He was obviously too busy staying undercover. Her case was published in several bits in the Washington Post for all the world to see, saying he had "Repeatedly stayed up all night, playing cards and drinking with his friends until early morning." And, she said, "He never gave her any money for food or to run their household." <br /><br />I know, I know....right now you're asking yourself, "So....what did he do wrong?" Still, understand that in those days those sorts of things were frowned upon (I'M KIDDING!) In any case, on his death bed, he told his wife and his adult children the entire story and how, after all those years, their names were not what they thought. In fact, one of his sons came back to Virginia, met many of his new-found relatives and documented the entire story. Suffice it to say, he never considered changing his name. The false name was quite good enough for the family, thank you very much. <br /><br />Then, after we discovered the above story, my wife told me about one of her relatives who did, essentially, the same thing, only for far more sinister reasons. It seem as a young man her relative had engaged in a string of armed robberies in a southern city that will remain nameless. I suppose you could chalk it up to youthful exhuberance but things went out of control one day when they tried to rob an unfortunate motorist, a travelling salesman (okay! Salesperson!) who just happened to be sitting at a traffic light in that city. It seems the guy didn't take the two bandits seriously but, unfortunately for him, they were completely serious. They panicked when he refused to hand over his cash so they shot and killed him. <br /><br />Well, they both ran like very scared rabbits, as well they should, but one (not her relative) was captured and went to prison for life. Odd? Seems he served just seven years of his life sentence, and that after he'd escaped twice! The criminal justice system hasn't changed all that much, has it? The other guy, a married man with several children, moved a half dozen states away and was never caught (apparently his partner in crime didn't rat him out.) He died several years ago, after living a relatively honest live, never telling his family the details. But the wife knew and, on her death bed, she told her children the story, leaving out the part about the murder and his other nefarious activities. <br /><br />My wife, a tenacious person to say the least, spent a lot of her genealogy time travelling and digging out the real story. She keeps most of the ugly details to herself, saying "to protect the innocent." <br /><br />So now I find myself sitting here wondering......am I really Dan Barham???? Or did my father, or his father's father, do something reprehensible, something dastardly, something that would necessitate a name change and a quick departure from some long-lost city? I don't know and what I don't know worries me. What, exactly, did they hide from me all those years ago? Am I who they say I am? There's got to be someone out there with answers to these life-changing questions. If you know "The Real Story" about me and my ancestors please let me know. I must tell you.....after all these years it's a terrible burdon. Can you help?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">"If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten;<br /><br />Either write things worthy of reading, or do things worthy of writing."<br /><br />Benjamin Franklin, May 1738 <br /></span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-63842307291849754962008-12-08T10:44:00.000-08:002008-12-08T11:33:36.846-08:00Who said retirement was gonna be easy?I haven't posted lately. I know why. I've been feeling really low-down rotten for a couple weeks. Thanksgiving came and went and I hardly noticed it. We had a quiet dinner, just the three of us. Like always, Shirley prepared a fine meal (except for that turkey - which I really don't like.) Still, I can fill up on her great dressing, cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes. Who needs fowl (it's "foul" as far as I'm concerned. <br /><br />I think my problem is from our tile floors. I've been crawling on hands and knees around our tile floors for more than a week. What happened was; I always thought the grout between the tiles was kind of a brown color. That is, until I took a closer look and realized the brown was really fourteen years accumulation of dirt. Frankly, all that filth made me sick. I had to start cleaning right away. <br /><br />The problem is our house has around six hundred square feet of tile! That's a lot of crawling and cleaning, with only a stiff bristle brush and several jugs of special grout cleaner. I'll admit it! I hated every minute of it. But I did it. I faithfully crawled around our foyer, the bathrooms, the back hallway, cleaning tile floors. Every night I went to bed with sore knees, a bad temper and a worn out body (easy for a seventy-one year old fool to wear out.) After about forty hours or so I had the grout looking good. It was only then I realized I also had to go back all over it again, this time to SEAL the grout. It made me want to break down in tears but I did it, reluctantly, hesitatingly, I did it and now, a couple weeks later, the tile AND the grout look almost new. <br /><br />Me? I don't look or feel anything like new. In fact, I look and feel older than the dirt I'd just cleaned out of that grout. I tell you - I'm worn out! My only solace is, by the time that grout gets that dirty again, I'll be gone - off to meet my maker - hopefully in a place where we won't even have to think about cleaning floors!<br /><br />Then, right after the floors were finished, our water heater went belly up! That's right! It started leaking all over the washroom floor. So, I had to drain the tank, turn off the water and wait for a plumber (seeing as how it was late Saturday when we discovered the leak) just knowing he was going to kill me with his bill. He didn't disappoint! <br /><br />So! Like I said at the start - I'm flat wore out! On the plus side I have nice, clean tile grout and a fine new water heater. Shirley tells me her big old whirlpool baths have never been so hot and luxurious ( I guess that's a plus.) As for me - I'm beaten down physically and mentally. And, by the way, I'm about $1,000 poorer! <br /><br />My son, Daniel, is right now in his room with a raging case of bronchitis. My wife, Shirley, is in our bed, nursing a raging head cold. Me? I'm sitting here just knowing I'm gonna come down with something too. A man feels this lousy he should expect the flu or a virus to come along - knock him off his feed for a couple days? <br /><br />Okay - I hear Shirley stirring in there so I'm gonna go in and see what I can do for her. Then I'm gonna go sit in a corner and sulk, maybe feel sorry for myself for a while.<br /><br />Nice talking to you and stay well.<br /><br />arkiedan<br /><br />"The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been." - Madeleine L'Englearkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-78323872079048038572008-11-12T15:30:00.000-08:002008-11-12T16:29:01.868-08:00A warm blanket around my shouldersToday Shirley decided we should have medical insurance beyond Medicare. I didn't like the sound of it. I reckoned the government and their co-conspirators, Big Insurance, have likely confused health care programs to a point where most older folks just sign up - give up - after reviewing the vast dizzying of plans. I figured it would be something like trying to figure out those cell phone plans (go ahead! I dare you to tell me you understand yours.)<br /><br />I was right.<br /><br />I dutifully went to the Medicare.gov site and spent the better part of four hours studying the various plans. I called and talked to an insurance agent (you know - like talking to the fox about how to safeguard the hen house.) Shirley called a woman in the business office at one of our doctors offices and asked her opinion. This was the woman, I might add, who'd recommended the insurance guy in the first place (thus, I'm thinking she's getting a finder's fee.)<br /><br />The bottom-line is: I'm even more confused than usual. That's saying a lot.<br /><br />Let's see? There's regular Medicare, Part A and Part B. Part B cost us $94 each and that's plain - simple - easy to understand. Even I understand it.<br /><br />There's Medicare Part D, which covers prescription drugs and it too should be easy. It's not. There's so many different plans offering so many different options and prices that a shyster (oops! I meant lawyer) could figure them out.<br /><br />There's Medicare Advantage Plans, most of which seem to offer no more than the usual Medicare, only at a higher price.<br /><br />Then there's Medicare Supplement Insurance, which offers to cover that which Medicare doesn't cover. Sounds like a good deal until you see the rates. <br /><br />Finally, I read dozens of sites that said that you'd probably die (or at least go broke) if you bought into one of the Medicare Advantage Plans. These sites scared the wits out of me until I realized they were the same people who sold the Advantage Plans. That's right! They sold both the Advantage Plans and the Medicare Supplement Plans and they were pushing one over the other!?! Now why would they do that? Maybe because one plan was far more profitable than the other? That would be my guess. <br /><br />I also read that Medicare (our fine government) payed these companies on average 16% more for services than they payed providers (our doctors, hospitals, etc.) So it would appear that the health care insurance companies are playing both ends against the middle. Pushing their Medicare Supplement Plans because they're more profitable and, at the same time, pushing the Medicare Advantage Plans because they can pick up an additional 16% gross from our good old government. Man! That's a win-win situation in anyone's book!<br /><br />We called a few doctor's offices to see if they were disposed to taking:<br /><br />New Medicare patients.<br /><br />New Medicare Advantage patients<br /><br />New Medicare Supplement patients<br /><br />The unscientific survey concluded that doctors love Medicare Supplement Plans (must have a huge profit margin. Maybe they can bill as they choose,) they will take Medicare patients but only grudgingly (as an affectionate gesture to old codgers I suppose,) and they absolutely will not take Medicare Advantage Plans (they don't seem to care if you have a life-threatening illness or not.)<br /><br />Now! Where does this all leave me? It leaves me more confused than ever! And, now, I'm mad at Shirley! If she hadn't started all this I wouldn't be sitting here hating the government (well, actually I would be hating the government, but for many other reasons,) hating the medical profession and mad at her. The way I figure it is - we were doing fine just using Medicare when we went to the doctor. Yeah, it cost us a little money but really not that much in the end. <br /><br />So! Here's the deal! We're gonna stay with Medicare! We're gonna forget about buying into all the hype about supplemental insurance plans and do the best we can. <br /><br />And who knows? Maybe in the not too distant future our new President will sign into law the new National Health Care Act. Maybe then we'll all get free health care and won't have to worry about things like this. <br /><br />Who knows? Maybe? NOT!<br /><br />arkiedan<br /><br /><br /><strong>As I understand President Bush's Medicare plan, it provides for unlimited coverage for anyone over 72 whose parents can pass the physical.</strong><br />Mark Russellarkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-59745123100454362432008-11-03T14:10:00.000-08:002008-11-03T14:55:46.633-08:00Voting with a Broken HeartI'm going to vote tomorrow. Why have I waited until tomorrow when folks have been voting for over two weeks? Why did I wait until the last day to go down to the polls and vote when I truly believe everyone I know has voted already? Yet I sit here, casually waiting for......for what.....FOR ELECTION DAY!<br /><br />I've been voting since I was twenty one. I've voted Democrat and I've voted Republican. I've voted for candidates I really liked and I've voted for candidates I didn't like. But still....I voted! Still, this election, most folks I know are shocked that I'm waiting until Election Day to vote! Why? Because I vote on ELECTION DAY!<br /><br />I admit that I could have voted at the county library or I could have voted over at the Second Baptist Church. It was my choice - it was convenient. But, if I waited until Election Day (the caps are deliberate) I'd, of course, had to vote over at my polling place, the Don Owens Sports Center. That's what I'm going to do!<br /><br />Why is this such a big deal to me? Why would I care when or where folks voted? A vote is a vote, isn't it?<br /><br />Well....maybe it is and maybe it isn't.<br /><br />Back in the old days of crooked politics in New York, Chicago, (Little Rock?) and most other cities around the country, a few honest people tried to stop devious voters from voting "early and often." There was also an attempt to stop the "bosses" from trading booze for votes. Hence there was no consumption of alcohol on Election Day. <br /><br />Well.....forget all that. With voting going on for weeks before Election Day, at alternate polling places around the country, opportunities for corruption abound. Drinking during "Election Month" is now legal (except on Election Day???? I find that strange?) and I'd bet a dollar against a donut we're back to the days of the boys down at Tammany Hall (okay, Tammany Hall is gone but the philosophy remains) trading booze for votes. Electronic voting machine error is now a fact of life, leading to the real likelyhood of rampant voting fraud at many of those alternate polling places.<br /><br />And you know.....it seems like no one really cares. It makes me feel more than a little ashamed of our wonderful country. Still, tomorrow at around ten I'm going to drive over to Don Owens Sports Center. I'll wait in line (that is, if everyone hasn't voted already) and I'll pull some of those levers (oh yeah, we don't do that any more, what with electronics and all.) <br /><br />I know....I just know, that I'll walk out to my car afterward wondering what has happened to the country I love. Something terribly wrong has happened and I honestly don't think it's repairable. Sadly I believe there are too many citizens who are willing to paraphrase the great words of John F. Kennedy. Their mantra now is:<br /><br />"Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what your country can do for you." <br /><br /><br />And that hurts my heart.<br /><br />arkiedan<br /><br /><strong>In order to become the master, the politician poses as the servant.</strong> Charles de Gaullearkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-18524916152776868062008-10-23T06:10:00.000-07:002008-10-23T06:26:59.254-07:00One of my "Special Folks"I was just sitting here reading some blogs and had to spend extra time over at the "grammyof13" journal of my friend, Doris. To tell you the truth, I can't get enough of her writing, her reminiscences. For instance; her dad just turned one hundred and the family went home to celebrate his centennial. On top of that one of her nieces was married with the wedding to coincide with her dad's celebration. Doris posted many photographs and it was a joy to visit with her family, if only though a virtual web visit. <br /><br />Doris has written about her dad in the past. I've always been deeply moved by her ability to capture images of him and her life back on the family farm. I can't recall any writer, famous or otherwise, who can conjure up such wonderful scenes. I see her dad, sweating behind a mule as he plows a field, sitting on his porch in old age, looking out over the land, wishing he could once again be out there working the soil. Wow! I'm getting those goose bumps again so off I go.<br /><br />Thank you Dee!<br /><br />Love ya, Danarkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-19956802066572861122008-10-16T12:56:00.000-07:002008-10-16T13:55:04.746-07:00A Genealogist's LifeMy wife, my sisters and my little brother got me into this. I spent most of my life going along, blithely unaware of who my ancestors were and that was fine at the time. My older sister though, nearly made a profession of it, at least it seemed that way to me. She was forever traveling to libraries, courthouses, the homes of relatives and such, endlessly copying old photographs, deeds, wills, and military records. Then she'd spend whatever time she had left meticulously entering everything by hand into her file system. <br /><br />Me? Hey! I was a working stiff. I was busy on the job or I was even busier doing what guys do when they're not working. I was fishing, riding my motorcycles, or just getting together with the guys. You know....having fun. I had a great interest in the Civil War but it was nothing to do with my ancestors. I just loved to study that war and I loved visiting those old battlefields around Maryland, Pennsylvania and Virginia. By the time I became interested in genealogy I was in my late fifties. I finally started noticing my wife's efforts to document her family and I took a closer look. My sister showed me some family photos and old records and that interested me even more. My kid brother showed me his computer database and that sealed it. I was hooked.<br /><br />The thing that got me most interested though was when I learned that my grandfather, old Ben Barham himself, fought for the Confederacy in the War of Northern Aggression (I now use that term rather than Civil War.) It excited me that I was a Southerner. That's right! Almost a Virginian, since that's where Ben was born. Being born in Maryland I'd always assumed I was a Damned Yankee but, Thank the Lord!, turns out I'm not. <br /><br />Now, not many people can say their <span style="font-style:italic;">grandfather</span> fought in the Civil War, mostly it would have been their great-grandfather. I can say that because my dad was born in 1903 and his dad was born in 1844. That puts Benjamin Franklin Barham at 59, an offical old guy, when dad was born. When my sister showed me a photo of Ben in his Confederate uniform I was hooked. I wanted to learn all I could about him.<br /><br />Well, that's where it started but not where it stopped. I've been chasing ancestors ever since. My wife and I now visit as many relatives, as many old towns and courthouses, as many old homeplaces as we can. I love walking where "they" walked, reading documents that "they" wrote or signed. And every time I find a new family member, living or dead, I get excited all over again. I even have a website dedicated to my ancestors, and it goes all the way back to the 11th century and my 23rd, great-grandfather. I love to communicate with cousins, no matter how distant, from all over the world (well, mostly in the USA, the UK or Canada.)<br /><br />And, since we moved to Arkansas I've found a bunch more relatives, descendents of Barhams who migrated west long ago. We've met new relatives and made new friends, all because of our family connections. <br /><br />My sister must look at me now and wonder why I wasted all those years ignoring my heritage. The truth is; I wonder the same thing. There's so many people I could have talked to who are gone now. when they passed away they took so much great family lore with them. God love them, I'm sorry I missed them.<br /><br />Anyway, enough about genealogy. Gotta go. I think I'll take a break now. I'll close this journal and do something else for a while. You know what? I think I'll open my Legacy genealogy program and find me some new family members.<br /><br />Talk to you later,<br /><br />arkiedan<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">"He who has no fools, knaves, or beggars in his family was begot by a flash of lightning."<br /><br />Old English proverb</span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-65889449058919389162008-10-13T07:31:00.000-07:002008-10-13T07:58:59.432-07:00We have nothing to fear but........???Our men's Bible study group met yesterday and the subject was fear. We covered the usual; fear of the Lord, fear for our families and fear that we'll lose our resources. Then a couple guys talked about fear of dying, saying they think about it as they get older. Being the oldest guy in the room I had to jump in. <br /><br />I'm 71. That's not old, not if you're 75 or 80, but if you take a look at the actuarial tables (is that right?) you'll see that I'm now at the age where I could go at any time. Don't get me wrong. It's truly not a big deal to me - on a couple levels.<br /><br />First: I'm now a Christian. When I leave this life I'll go to a far better place. Even though, when I think about my life <span style="font-style:italic;">before</span> I became a Christian I'm amazed that the Lord will let me in but I know he will.<br /><br />Second: Maybe some of you know what I mean. I hurt! The older I get the more I hurt! Sometimes I feel like that old Ford I owned fifty years ago. Parts are wearing out and there's not much I can do about it. I mean, there's no parts stores where I can go to get a new set of fingers, shoulders, elbows. Okay! I'll admit, we can get new knees and hips if our's get too worn but, frankly, I'd rather hurt than go through those long rehabilitations.<br /><br />So, I told those young whippersnappers in my Bible study group to forget about the fear of dying. I assured them that their fear would be gone by the time they reached my age. There are problems, situations, that come flying our way in the course of our lives that scare the wits out of us. We just can't help it. Hopefully, we can remember we're Christians and get past those perceived crises, and turn them over to the Lord. They're never as bad as we think at the moment.<br /><br />Most of all, I said to remember that dying is nothing more than a part of living. When our time comes we should rejoice! We're going to the Lord and we're not going to hurt anymore. At 71 I'm happy with that.<br /><br />arkiedan<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">"At my age flowers scare me."<br />George Burns </span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-22372840032535047662008-10-10T11:01:00.000-07:002008-10-12T10:20:32.471-07:00One more day on the waterThere was a time when I went bass fishing every chance I got. I mean, I'd be at work and get a phone call from my partner, Fred, and we'd be heading for Maryland's eastern shore with a boat in tow faster than you can say, "I got my limit today!"<br /><br />Fishing back in Maryland wasn't what I'd call great fishing. Maryland isn't good for most anything, except maybe voting for liberal candidates to the house, the senate, the Presidency. But that's another story. I'm talking Bass Fishing here!<br /><br />Like I said; Fred and I spent far too much time in the pursuit of Bass. I'm not even going to mention the boats Fred owned. Me? My boats were:<br /><br />A 1969 Ouchita (built right here in Arkansas, but the way)<br />A 1975 Hydra-Sports with a 140HP Evinrude (a fast boat!)<br />A 1984 Hydra-Sports with a 150 HP Mariner (a faster boat!)<br />A 1995 Gambler with a 150 HP Mercury (faster still!!!)<br />A 1998 Gambler with a 200 HP Mercury (the fastest, best boat I ever owned!!!)<br /><br />Fred and I roamed all over Maryland, Delaware and Virginia for more years than I can remember. We fished such places as:<br /><br />Currituck Sound and Back Bay, Virginia (the greatest fishing hole ever!!!)<br />The tidal rivers of Maryland's eastern shore (the Choptank, the Nanticoke, the Marshy Hope, the Transquaking,) we fished all over Forida on water like the Withlacoochee River, Lake Ockeechobee, the Kissimmee River, the Stick marsh and Farm 13, and on and on and on. <br /><br />I think back to all those years and.......Lord! I do miss those days!<br /><br />Now, I live in Arkansas! I now live among some of the best bass fishing lakes and rivers anywhere and, guess what, I rarely go out anymore.<br /><br />When we moved here I told my wife I'd have to get another boat, though maybe something more modest. I bought a "tin" boat, an aluminum 17-foot Lowe bass boat from a guy in Georgia. I bought it on eBay (of all places)and trailered it back to Arkansas a weeklater. I supposed, since I was surrounded by great fishing water, that I'd spend my twilight years catching and releasing bass (did I mention I don't keep fish?) I was wrong. <br /><br />Last year I went fishing a total of four days! On those four days I fished a total of around three hours each. Now, I don't know about you but, for me, that's tantamount to not fishing at all. I mean, when I go fishing I go for the duration, bell to bell, sunrise to sunset (into the night!) But, I haven't gone - not at all! This year? I've gone out on the water exactly "0" times! That's ZERO! I haven't had the boat out once! It's sitting in the garage, piled high with "garage stuff!" <br /><br />You know what? It breaks my heart. I'm out here in God's Great Fishing Factory and I don't go fishing!?! I even called Fred and told him to come on out and we can go catch some bass. Fred, who's now an old guy like me, screamed, "Drive 1,200 miles to go fishing? ARE YOU CRAZY?!" And you know, I don't blame him. <br /><br />The deal is; I'm seventy one (that's 71!!!!!) I don't feel like getting the boat ready, dragging it out to one of our great fishing lakes. I mean, I just don't feel like it! The truth has finally hit me. I'm an old guy. Old guys finally know when it's time to put away childish things (to paraphrase the Bible.) They know when lifetime pursuits are finally finished. <br /><br />I looked outside today and it was a perfect fishing day. The temperature was around 75, the barometer was rising and the sky was filled with fantastic cumulous clouds. It made me think back to those days long ago, Fred and I sitting in my boat on some obscure Maryland lake, pulling in an occasional largemouth bass (and releasing it of course.) Those were wonderful days and I'll never forget them.<br /><br />Still, I realize I have my creative writing group today at 2:00. I realize I'd rather spend two or three hours with my fellow writers than go out fishing. I guess that's something we all have to face and reconcile ourselves to. We have to understand; that was then, a wonderful time of our life but.....that was then. This? This is now. This is what we do when we're "getting on in years." This is what we love now and we have to leave those past pursuits behind us - they were for another time.<br /><br />So, right now it's 1:35 PM - the Conway Creative Writers group starts at 2:00 PM and I'm rushing to get this posted before I leave. I'm excited! I can't wait to see everybody! The day will be filled with new stories, new friends, new discoveries.<br /><br />who knows? Maybe tomorrow? Maybe tomorrow I'll drag the boat out and head for a lake. You know. Just one last time<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you’ve got it made.<br />- Jean Giraudoux </span><br /><br />arkiedanarkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-14115250252223526582008-10-09T05:59:00.000-07:002008-10-09T10:31:48.437-07:00We have met the enemy - and it's us!So I'm watching TV the other evening and a commercial comes on. Now, I would ordinarily turn off the sound until the show returned but, for some reason, I left it on and listened. A guy was standing there saying,<br /><br />"Do you owe a credit card company $5,000? $10,000" Even $20,000 or more. Do you know that you have a <span style="font-style: italic;">legal</span> right to settle that debt for pennies on the dollar? That's something the credit card companies don't want you to know. Call today and we'll help you settle for far less than you actually owe. <span style="font-style: italic;">And, it's your legal right.</span>"<br /><br />I sat there amazed that anyone would believe this guy's nonsense but, in truth, I knew that thousands would respond. That's where we are today. Buy it now and worry later. And, based on that commercial, maybe you can buy it now and not pay at all! Tens of thousands of people out there are piling up debt that they can't possibly repay and along comes an opportunity to "weasel" out of honoring their obligation, their responsibility. I'll bet that company is swamped with calls.<br /><br />Now don't get me wrong. A long time ago, way back in my distant youth, I did nearly the same thing, running up charge cards to get things I couldn't afford. But, in the end, I had to repay those debts and it hurt - it hurt for a very long time. Still, I never considered that I might be able to repay "pennies on the dollar" or not pay at all. I had borrowed (foolishly I have to add,) I owed the money and I had to repay it. It was that simple.<br /><br />I don't believe today's youth have that personal ethic - that their word is their bond. They borrow money and then cry when they're asked to repay it, thus the commercial I mentioned above. They borrow money for college and then cry when they're expected to repay the loan. I've personally heard these words, "It's not fair! I get out of college and I'm broke for the first three or four years afterward, paying back that loan!" Hard to believe. Once again, no acceptance of responsibility.<br /><br />All this got me to thinking about our current "Government Bailout." It makes me think of the members of our sorry congress and how over the past decades they spent billions pressuring the banking industry into making extremely risky loans because everyone in American was entitiled to a house - a home. Sounds great if you ignore the type of people who would respond to that commercial above. The banking industry was pressured by the Barney Franks on the hill and they gladly responded, putting extremely risky people into houses they couldn't afford and, ultimately, wouldn't pay for. And they didn't. Look at the news during the past year. Tens of thousands of homes sit empty while the banks wonder what to do with them.<br /><br />I'm not talking about lower-income folks who are trying hard to do better, to climb the ladder. My heart goes out to them. I'm talking about those who have good incomes but wanted, actually demanded, a mini-mansion in the suburbs and everything, I mean everything, that goes with it. I'm talking about people who wanted it all <span style="font-style: italic;">now</span> and borrowed $500,000 - $1,000,000 for that "dream home." You know, the same ones who cried about repaying their student loans. Now, like those lower-incomed folks, they're crying for help and, you know, they'll probably get it.<br /><br />Would they do what we did? Stuggle to get into that first little starter home and slowly, carefully, move up to a better house when we could afford it? Accept responsibility for our mistakes? Fat chance! All they have to do is make that phone call above! Can't afford that million dollar house? Not to worry! Our fine congress will see that your mortgage is "renegotiated" and save you a ton of money. Still owe that student loan? Not to worry! Our fine congress guaranteed the loan. They'll pay it off and forgive your debt. See, it's a win-win situation. Nobody loses. Well, not exactly. We all lose, all because of those few million who don't understand about personal responsibility.<br /><br />In the end the old adage, "We have met the enemy - and it is us!" rings as true, as always. We have allowed, taught actually, a generation that nothing is their fault. If something goes wrong they can simply blame someone else. It's society - it's us.<br /><br />Wow! I started out to write something far more soft and cuddly. Well, I had to get it off my chest. I'll try to do better tomorrow. Sorry. It wasn't my fault.<br /><br />arkiedan<br /><br /><b>I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.<br /><br />Mark Twain</b>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-86787145610100548372008-10-08T11:42:00.000-07:002008-10-12T10:56:46.764-07:00Out of Touch!Yeah, I'm definitely out of touch. I don't want to be out of touch....but I can't seem to help myself. It's not something I'm proud of. I look around and everywhere I see people walking, talking, driving and running while keeping constantly in touch. Me? I walk along with my hands in my pockets, oblicious to what my friends are doing, wherever they are. I drive my car with both hands on the wheel with the radio turned off, knowing the highway needs my fullest attention. There are times, times when I look around and find everyone in sight chattering away into their left or right palm, I think I must be the most isolated, uncommunicative person on earth.<br /><br />I spend an inordinate amount of time analyzing my situation. Maybe it's because I'm a 71 year old coot who just doesn't want to talk to folks. No, I really can't accept that. I like to meet with family and friends and have stimulating conversations about things relevant, even irrelevant. Nope! I don't think I'm an island and I don't think I avoid conversations. I just try to avoid meaningless conversations, in being "connected" all the time.<br /><br />So....I reason I'm not an argumentative, uncommunicative old geezer and I'm not anti-social. So...why do I object so vehemently to those gadgets that most people carry with them, day in and day out. You should know by now I'm talking about those infernal cell phones, contraptions I consider to be the biggest waster of time ever known to mankind and clearly a dvice of the devil.<br /><br />First, let me say I never want to hear such sorry excuses as, "I got one so my wife would be safe if she breaks down on the highway" or "I got one so I'll know where my kids are and that they're safe." I don't believe either of these excuses for a minute but the second one really borders on insanity. How will a cell phone tell you where your kid is unless it has a GPS built-in? As for the first. Be honest. How many times has your wife called saying, "My car's broken down. Please come and help me." I'll bet you a dollar against a donut she never has.<br /><br />Second, I can name days and dates where I've seen people, young and old, walking through a store or down a street, chatting mindlessly to some other lost soul at the other end of that connection. I've been in theaters with the guy or girl behind me talked mindlessly to someone at the other end, about the show they're about to watch or some other drivel. I've been in restaurants where a person, sitting with other people, ignored them and talked to some other person who was probably sitting at some other restaurant ignoring another group of people.<br /><br />I actually followed a young couple into the Olive Garden last month and, believe it or not, they were both talking on their cell phones as they walked, together but ignoring each other. You might say, "Maybe they were on business calls." NO! I'm an eavesdropper. I overheard they conversations. It was more of the same mindless pap that I hear every time I listen in. Yeah, yeah, I know. I shouldn't listen in to other people's calls. Nuts! They shouldn't be walking along with another person, or sitting at a table with another person, chatting on their phone with someone else.<br /><br />I meet with a friend for breakfast every week. He carries one of those infernal gadgets and had the habit of taking every call, wherever we were in a conversation. I finally had enough. I told him that the caller was being rude, calling him at their convenience, without regard for what he might be doing. I also said it was rude of him to take the call, leaving me sitting there trying to ignore the conversation. The conversations ( I couild only hear his end) usually went something like this:<br /><br />"Hey! How you doing?"<br /><br />"Oh, nothing much. Having breakfast with Dan."<br /><br />"Really? You just got up, huh? What're you gonna do today?"<br /><br />"I dunno. I'm gonna work for a couple hours, then go home."<br /><br />"Breakfast? Some eggs and grits. What about you?"<br /><br />"Pancakes! Boy, you're gonna get fat eating those."<br /><br />You gotta go, huh? Okay, Call me when I get home."<br /><br />"Yeah, right, see ya."<br /><br />That it! Now that, my friend, was an essential conversation, and I've heard it time and time again, coming from all you who carry those things, whether you're walking on the street, through Walmart or sitting in a restaurant. Then again, maybe you no longer realize how meaningless your conversations have become. Maybe you feel a deep need to stay connected. If you do, know that I don't mind and I don't care. I'll continue to chuckle to myself and resist the urge to go down to AT&T and price the latest and greatest plan. <br /><br />You should know though; that day in the not too distant future when you're sitting in Chiles', chattering away on you phone, ignoring your friend seated across from you, look around. You'll see me sitting nearby, listening to your mindless, childish conversation and laughing hysterically while my wife tries to constrain me.<br /><br />arkiedan<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Cell phones are the latest invention in rudeness. ~D.H. Mondfleur</span>arkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5489220199454821584.post-78457431520862780692008-10-07T07:28:00.000-07:002008-10-07T07:55:19.134-07:00You can't get there from here!This is my first day of blogging. Let's see: I've setup a profile (but it needs editing,) I've poked around Blogger to find a suitable name and url (but already feel like changing it,) I've added all sorts of information to my profile (all the while wondering if Google is going to sell my data to devious people around the internet who will bombard me with emails offering such things as lewd sexual devices, chemicals to increase my sexual prowess, nearly free drugs and easy money from widows in the middle east.)<br /><br />I'm taking a shot at blogging because a dear friend, Doris, tells me it's therapeutic. After following her wonderful blog for several months I suspect she's right so .... here I am.<br /><br />I love creative writing. Around 2002 I joined a writing group back in our old community of Heritage Harbour, a retirement community in Annapolis, Maryland. From the start I loved writing although I'd never written anything other than technicial material in my job with General Motors. I found I loved the writing group and, to tell you the truth, I feel I blossomed into what I would have to call a mediocre writer (I don't really believe that. I believe I'm a better than average<span style="font-style: italic;"> amateur</span> writer.)<br /><br />After moving to Arkansas I found myself a little adrift and searching for additions to my lifestyle. My all-knowing, all-seeing wife, God love her, recognized my malaise and quickly organized the Conway Creative Writer group, just so I'd have my beloved writing available to me again. Wonder of wonders; the group has grown into a fine roundtable (actually rectangular) of members who's common bond is a love of writing and journaling. It's fair to say that our bond is now more than simply writing. We are a group of diverse folks who truly care about each other. Our two sessions each Friday are the highpoints of our week.<br /><br />Okay! Enough of this sorry initial effort. I suppose I'll start tomorrow pouring out my darkest, innermost secrets and exposing my warts - my flaws - to everyone. Well.....that's not going to happen! Still, in the meantime, I'll think of something.<br /><br />Talk to you later, arkiedanarkiedanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09704653420226721605noreply@blogger.com1