Mr. Guilty

 

 "Call me Mr. Guilty,
Mr. Guilty, that's my name.
Without a doubt it is all my fault,
I'm the one to blame" ~ Loudon Wainwright III

 

Apologies are in order.

I watched the last minute of the Kennesaw State versus Xavier University game.  I thought Kennesaw (pronounced "Kenny-saw") State had more than a puncher's chance to defeat the Mighty Musketeers of Xavier University in a basketball game between two comical college nicknames.

Kennesaw State's cheer is "Hooty Hoo".  That strikes fear in the hearts for their opponents. 

I'm not sure of the correct pronunciation of Xavier. Is it "X-avier" or is it "Zavier"?

I will say both The Owls and Musketeers are better nicknames than what Whitter University, the Alma Mater of Richard Nixon has:  The Poets. So how do you cheer for The Poets? "Way to rhyme" is about it.

Kennesaw State won the ASUN Conference Championship by defeating Liberty University.  Because of this, Kennesaw State won a spot in the NCAA Division I Basketball Tournament, better known as "March Madness".

Poor little old Kennesaw State, the college up I-75, down the street from The Cracker Barrel, was the only Georgia college invited to "March Madness".  It wasn't the Bulldogs, and it wasn't The Yellow Jackets. It was The Owls.

To say I and the other Kennesaw State alums were happy is an understatement.  We were thrilled. We were ecstatic. 

Kennesaw State started as Kennesaw Junior College. From there, it became Kennesaw College. It had "rolling admissions, " meaning anybody could enroll in Kennesaw College.  That's how I got in. 

Back then, it was a charmless place to go to school.  Kennesaw was trying to make a name for itself, so the classes were challenging, and the grading was often arbitrary and capricious. At least it seemed that way. Actually, I learned the phrase "arbitrary and capricious" in a Business Law class, so maybe I did learn something.

The professors seemed like they'd rather be somewhere else, like at a real school, without all of these dumb-dumb students.

The students hated it because they had heard about the great time their friends had at UGA, Auburn, Alabama, et al., with students their own age. At that time, the average student at Kennesaw was "non-traditional" (old as dirt).

After I graduated ("Praise Lawd" instead of Cum Laude), things began to change at Kennesaw.  It became Kennesaw State College and offered MBA degrees, allowing all those working Bulldog graduates to become Kennesaw State Owls.

In 1996, Kennesaw State College became Kennesaw State University. However, Kennesaw State lacked one thing:  Big Time sports.

Kennesaw State had sports teams.  I used to take my son to Kennesaw State baseball games. There were some games we were the only ones in the stands not related to a player.

The same way for basketball. Sparsely populated stands watching a fairly competitive NCAA II team. They even won the NCAA II championship one year.  I don't think there was a parade.

Kennesaw State finally began a football program and had some success in the FCS.  The Kennesaw State-Jacksonville State game I attended was one of the most enjoyable football games I've ever seen.

Somewhere down the line, basketball fell down the wayside.  Georgia and Tech were not doing any better, but the Owls hit hard times. Three years ago, Kennesaw State was 1-28.

Then last week, out of nowhere, Kennesaw State "punched their ticket," as they say on TV, to "The Big Dance."

I figured Kennesaw State would be a 16th seed. But, nope, they were the 14th seed and played the 3rd seed, Xavier.

Here's where I come in.

Ever since the Falcons' Super Bowl loss to The New England Patriots after leading 28-3, I have become convinced that I transmit "loser rays" to my teams, causing them to mess up. 

When the Braves won The World Series, I didn't watch any of the games because the Houston Astros would hit a home run or something as soon as I did.

In fact, in the 9th inning, with Braves up 7-1 in the sixth game, I turned on the TV to see an Astro stroke the ball to right field.  It was only a single, but I turned off the set and watched the game via Tweets on Twitter.

My wife had the game on in her office. She instructed me:  "Don't you dare come in here and watch this game".

My wife would holler out the score to me.

Finally, with a minute left, Kennesaw State was within striking distance of Xavier, and I made the fateful decision to watch the last minute of the game.

That's when Xavier started to pull away and ultimately won the game.  They even showed a "sad" Kennesaw State fan, which I never thought I would see in my life.

So, it was all my fault. Next time, I will listen to my wife and not watch to prevent anything like this to happen again

But, hey, y'all were there, and sometimes that's a victory too.

 

Come Monday

 

 

Is there a song you remember where you were the first time you heard it?

I remember where I was the first time I heard Jimmy Buffett's "Come Monday".

First, a little explanation is in order.

I was raised in Cobb County, Georgia.  More accurately, I was raised in the eastern part of Cobb County.  If you take a right coming from Atlanta at The Big Chicken (a KFC restaurant that looks like a chicken), you are in East Cobb.

In the early '70s, Atlanta was a happening place. Atlanta had a swinging nightlife and four professional sports teams if you didn't look at their records: The Braves, Falcons, Hawks, and Flames.

Marietta, the largest town in Cobb County, was conveniently located near Interstate 75, which theoretically would take you to Atlanta in a short period of time, depending upon your definition of "short period of time". However, calculating how long it would take you to get from Cobb County to anywhere in Atlanta was impossible. It relied on many factors: rain, snow, the threat of snow, Led Zepplin at Atlanta Fulton County Stadium. various days before a holiday, school starting, school ending, and how many auto accidents happened that day.

This made Marietta a place to live and by 1973, East Cobb was busting at the seams. The Cobb County School Board decided to build a new high school. But, before that school opened (named "Walton" after John-Boy Walton, a popular character on a TV show), my high school (Wheeler) was forced to use Split Sessions. Split Sessions meant the upperclassmen (juniors and seniors) had to go to school in the morning and the lowerclassmen  (sophomores and freshmen) went to school in the afternoon.

I was a freshman in 1974, and this meant I could watch Johnny Carson and wake up around 8:00 (9:00,10:00) the following day. 

I had a clock radio set to wake me up with the tunes played on WFOM 1230. I heard these words one morning: "Headin' up to San Francisco for the Labor Day Weekend Show. I got my Hush Puppies on".

It was "Come Monday," and it was the first time I ever heard shoes mentioned in a song that were not blue suede.

 

 I soon learned that "Come Monday" was sung by Jimmy Buffett.  Before Jimmy Buffett, there wasn't an artist like Jimmy Buffett. He sounded country but the songs had a rock feel. Buffett sang a lot about the ocean, the beach, and boats, but he wasn't like The Beach Boys. Buffett was like the guys that worked and lived in the various beach towns in the South.

"Come Monday" was on his second major album, "Living And Dying In 3/4 Time", and the album cover features Buffett sitting on a grounded boat named "Good Luck".  This is an example of Buffett's good-natured wit. Wit was in short supply at that time of the '70s.

The album starts with "Pencil-Thin Mustache", a nostalgic boomer ditty about writing fan letters to "Sky King's Penny".  I wonder if anyone under 60 understands that lyric?

 

I bought the "Come Monday" 45 and the song on the B side was "The Wino And I Know".  The first line: "Ice cream man is a hillbilly fan, got 78s by Hank Snow".  Nobody in 1974 sang about Hank Snow, not even on the country stations.

The second verse of "The Wino And I Know" puzzled me: "Cough fey strom at the Cafe Dumong, donuts are too hard to touch. Just like a fool at Sweet Billy's School, I ate till I eat way too much".

 

Much later, I learned the lyrics were: "Coffee is strong at the Cafe Du Monde, donuts are too hot to touch. Just like a fool when those sweet goodies cooled, I ate till I eat way too much."  Oh well. It was my introduction to Jimmy Buffett and his songs about food.

 

That little 45 made me a Jimmy Buffett fan even when few of my classmates knew him.  A few years later, Buffett released "Changes In Attitudes, Changes In Latitudes," which included his biggest song, "Margaritaville".

 

Looking for that lost shaker of salt after stepping on a pop top sent Buffett from being a singer-songwriter to a vast corporation.  In 2017, Buffett, who hasn't had a hit record since the Carter Administration*, had a net worth of $550 million.

But I still like the Jimmy Buffett** of 1974, who wrote this song about his girlfriend. He married that girl.

 

 

*Yes, I know about "Five O'Clock Somewhere".  I consider that an Alan Jackson song. Shut up. 

  

**I know several people who have met Jimmy Buffett. The story is the same. "I walked into a bar and there was Jimmy Buffett". One friend, action writer Allen Gregory said he was limping into a bar and Buffett stopped him and asked what happened.  Gregory told Buffett that he had stepped on a pop top. The rest is history.

 

 

 

Papa Pooh

 

Last week's big news was Rowan Elliott Manis's entrance into the world. He clocked in at eight pounds, eleven ounces which is heavier than his dad and grandfather were at birth.

He was born at the same hospital, Kennestone (pronounced "Kenny Stone"), as his father, grandfather, and grandmother.

Kennestone is named Kennestone because when it was built in 1948, a person could see Kennesaw Mountain (which is no big whoop because it is practically next door) and Stone Mountain from the roof.

Rowan has ten toes and ten fingers. He is perfect in every way, in case you need to be reminded of that.

He is a very handsome baby. Probably the best-looking baby ever born at Kennestone. I might be prejudiced.

I'm not a person who gets all sentimental or ooey-gooey about events, but there is something very special  seeing your son holding his son for the first time.

Let me explain my grandfather history.

My mother's father died when she was sixteen, and it was a looooooooong time before I was born. My mother said he was the best man she ever knew.  She said he was kind and gentle.

Now my father's father, well, he died a couple of years before I was born and he was, as Southern women would say back then, a pill (pronounced "peal").

He was a "farmer" in the sense that he had some land with cows, horses, chickens, moonshine stills, etc.  My dad said he used to go on "cattle drives" with his dad.  Dad said he also saw him beat a hired hand with a chain. Not a nice guy.

My point is that I never had a grandfather, so I have nobody to model. So, Rowan, I'm just going to wing it.

Hopefully, I'll be able to give Rowan some pleasant memories, like John Prine had of his grandfather that he put in the song "Grandpa Was A Carpenter".

Grandpa wore his suit to dinner nearly everyday,

no particular reason he just dressed that way.

Brown necktie, matching vest, both his wing-tipped shoes;

he built a closet on our back porch, put a penny in a burnt-out fuse.

I am a little worried that one of these days, Rowan will write a song called "Grandpa Was A Blogger" or "Grandpa Was A History Major".

 

Knowing that I am somebody's grandfather is a tad bit weird. 

It seems like yesterday I was a "young man". Now, I must explain "Leave It To Beaver" to people.  ("It was about a kid named Theodore who they called Beaver, because, I don't know why they just did. Not much ever happened on the show, except Beaver joined a record club which my mom always referred to, but I never saw that episode and I never got that lesson. Wait, come back here!")

 

You shake your head thinking about the simple concepts people are missing today. For example, if you take a loan, you should pay it back, even if you went to a fancy hoop-de-do college. You hope your grandchild has good old fashion common sense, something his grandfather never had a lot of (see "majoring in history").

Mainly you hope your grandchild knows that his grandparents loves him simply because that's what grandparents do best.

In case you are wondering, we have announced our grandparent "names".  This is a big Boomer Generation deal, sort of like Woodstock

If you don't know, it is no longer "Grandfather and Grandmother."  Most of the time, the grandparent names Boomers give themselves sound like grunts coming out of the mouths of babies. 

Our names are "Moo-Moo" for my wife.  I am "Papa Pooh".   For this, you can blame Bill Wade.

Bill Wade was my friend who passed away last fall. He nicknamed me "Ally Pooh" in college. It is a long story. But, over time, it became  "Pooh".  I guess it sounded more masculine.

When Lori and I married, Bill called her,  "Lori Lou-Lou".  Somewhere along the line, it became "Moo-Moo".   Of course, my son had to explain to his future wife why he called his parents Moo and Pooh.  She married him anyway.

But, Rowan will call us what he wants and it will be fine with us because grandchildren are perfect and he is no exception.