Living In The Past

As I've mentioned before, I am writing a book.


Actually, I've already written a book. It's called Gone With The Wind. I really hope it does real well.


Seriously, I have really written a book and it is called The Umpire Has A Mullet which I have featured a time or two on this blog. TUHAM as it is known on the internet message boards, it about a time in our family's life when it revolved around one thing: Recreational League Baseball.


I started writing TUHAM  in 2004. I finished it a couple of weeks ago.  Hey, I got a life you know.


I have started writing another book, if you can believe it.  This one is about my high school career. The working title (that's what we authors call it) is Surviving The Smoke Hole and Other High School Accomplishments.


As you might have guessed, it is a little difficult to write a book.


First, you should have some idea about what you are writing about. I think I have that covered since I'm writing about my high school career.


My goal is to convey how weird my high school experience was. I made these terrible grades but since I wore glasses people thought I was smart.


Ninth grade was pretty rough, grade wise, but I righted the ship and did okay the rest of my time in school, except for Chemistry.  I have no idea how anybody makes a good grade in Chemistry. Some of you people might say, "study". Yeah, right, just try that.


For some reason, foreign languages were tough for me too. I took French in seventh grade and made an "A" so I thought I could breeze through it in high school. Hey, I only made one "C" in French. I'm not going to tell you the other grades.


I figured my problem in French, besides not studying and thinking the teacher was an old bat, was my pronunciation of French words. Apparently, I didn't use enough mucus when I tried to speak French.


In a great moment of Manis Logic, I decided to punt French because I le suxed in it and take Latin instead. Which ranks right up there with New Coke as far a decisions go.


Ever heard the poem about Latin? "Latin is a language/Dead as can be. First it killed the Romans/Now it is killing me".   There has never been truer words spoken.


One thing good about Latin is that you didn't have to speak it like French. However, you had to translate a lot of Latin words (those Romans had a different word for everything) which were usually about Caesar and Gaul.


A weird thing happened in my first year of Latin, and no, it was not me studying. The teacher died in the middle of the year. I should have known something was wrong with her when she gave me detention for saying "Oh Snot" in class. It got a big laugh. The next day when I went for my detention she had totally forgotten about it. She told me I was a real sweet boy.


As you might guess, they don't grow Latin teachers on trees, but we muddled through somehow with a substitute and I think I might have even made a "B" in my last quarter of Latin I. There have been saints canonized for less.


For Latin II, the following year, my high school hired someone just out of college. She aced the SATs. Just what I needed.


This teacher was smart and sweet and just a swell young lady. And I probably was her worst student. She retired recently from teaching and I bet you I was in her Top Ten of Worst Students Ever.




But the book is not about me. It is about my time really. P.J.O'Rouke in his book Baby Boom calls my age group "The Sophomore Class". We're at the tail end of the post war generation. It was a time we could check into the Hotel California but never leave.


It was a time in which America just sat down and took a breath. It had been a real busy time in history before then. If it wasn't a Presidential assassination it was a Presidential resignation. If we weren't at war, we were going to the moon.


Somehow, in the misty water colored memories, all people remember of the 70's is Star Wars and disco. My goal is to explain it a little better with some help of my goofy jokes.


Now, if I can only remember more of it.

50 People Running For President

Back when I was in high school, Paul Simon released a song called Fifty Ways To Leave Your Lover.  If memory serves, Simon gave only five ways to leave your lover. Where's the other forty five, Paul?

It was 1976 and there were about four hundred Democrats running for President, at least initially. Anyone remember Mo Udall? I do, but I can't remember where I put my car keys. It is a curse.

Well, as part of the comic genius  I was developing back then, I wrote a song called Fifty Men Running For President to the tune of Paul Simon's song. Yes, I was Weird Al before there was a Weird Al.

Unfortunately, I forgot where I put the lyrics to that song. It has been almost forty years ago and I have had a life since then.

As part of my public service, I will review the people that are running for President. There are a lot of candidates. It is hard to know who to vote for. The problem is all inside your head. The answer is easy is you take it logically. I'd like to help you in your struggle to be free, there must be fifty people running for President. First, the Democrats.

Hillary Clinton. Mrs. Clinton really needs no introduction because she won't ever go away. She has a good chance of becoming the first woman and the second pathological liar (Nixon being the other) to become President.  Reason for running: It is time for someone with boobs to be President and I've got 'em.  Slogans (s) Worship Me, Pigs.  Resistance Is Futile. 

Elizabeth Warren:  She is one of those Northeastern liberal Democrats who think Karl Marx was too conservative.  Her slogan: Mine Are Perky.  Has absolutely no chance of winning the Democrat nomination or getting invited to a fraternity social.

Martin O'Malley:  Former Governor of Maryland. Slogan: I'm Martin O'Malley Reason for running: To let people outside of Maryland see what a dynamic person Martin O'Malley is and maybe get a reality TV show. Would not rule out transitioning into a woman like Bruce Jenner. Already has a name picked out:  Martina O'Malley

Now, The Republicans.


Ted Cruz: Freshman senator from Texas that may/may not have been born on earth. Slogan: You don't want to sit next to me on a plane.  Somehow managed to convince a woman to procreate with him.

Ben Carson: A soft spoken individual who overcame crippling poverty to become one of the leading brain surgeons on earth. Of course, since he does not share some of the same views as someone at Huffington Post or Buzzfeed, we should be wary of him. Additionally, when a Dr. Carson say "scalpel" to a nurse, he gets a scalpel. When a President Carson says "Tax Cut", he'll hear "Racist". It would be real frustrating for him but that's just the way politics rolls nowdays.

Rand Paul: Leader of the Libertarian Wing of The Republican Party, Paul is the son of Ron Paul who is probably sending him e-mails about The Federal Reserve. He's a little bit snippy with female anchorwomen. He's probably two interviews away from saying "Jane, you ignorant slut".

Mike Huckabee: Folksy former Governor of Arkansas who has one major problem: he has met me. When my wife and I went to New York a few years ago, we got tickets to Huckabee's TV show.  We met him, told him we were from Georgia and he said these words which I can imagine Lincoln saying at Gettysburg or Eisenhower saying on D-Day: "We got something for you that you Georgians ought to like."  It was a gift card to Cracker Barrel.

Marco Rubio: Freshman senator from Florida who gives great speeches but reminds you a little too much of another Freshman senator from eight years ago. Son of Cuban immigrants, Rubio would have been the NEXT BIG ONE WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR if he was a Democrat. Since he's a Republican, he won't get that Messianic treatment, even though, so far, the elite media has been fairly gentle with him. But don't worry, he'll be depicted as a knuckle dragging mouth breathing member of the Ku Klux Klan before you know it.

Rick Perry:  Former Governor of Texas. Has new glasses.

Jeb Bush:  Slogan: I Barely Even Know My Dad and Brother. Raising tons of money. May actually be a Democrat.

Scott Walker:  He is the anti-Bush because he's not from a well connected family and may actually be a conservative. Did not graduate from college, which is consider bad because Sarah Palin and Rick Perry have college degrees. Had a mullet as a young man. Slogan: Go Packers!

Chris Christie: Because every comedy needs a fat man. Reason for running: To Super Size the economy. Slogan: Hey! Are You Going to Finish That?

Advice to Young Men From An Old Married Man

I have now been married for 29 years.

I am not an expert on marriage. I am an expert on how to be married to Lori.

Soon, our son will be marrying his fiance. I have been giving him advice for the past couple of months that I would like to share.

First of all, you actually have to like the person you marry. Not Love or Luv.  You have to like that person as a person. In others words, you would still talk to this person if you were not in a romantic relationship.

It shouldn't come as news but a lot of dudes don't do this. They love the body of the girl they marry. Hey, a smoking hot body is important but all of that flies  out the window when the apartment floods or the heater hose busts in the car.

This is really personal but it is also the best thing I have ever said in my life and I'm really proud of it.

Lori and I had our first real romantic encounter and my head was swimming. I had an epiphany that I loved this girl. However, I didn't want to mess things up by getting too deep in the weeds with love talk. So I said to her, "Lori, I don't know where all of this will go, but I want you to know that wherever it goes, I will always be your friend." 

I have been her friend over the years and she has been mine.

Secondly, you actually have to the listen to the person you marry. Women communicate with words, vocal tones and body language.

You may want to make a note of that. Women really work at communication, while men try to get by with various moans and grunts.

If you listen to a woman once, she will expect you to listen to her the rest of the time. Wives will give pop quizzes just to make sure you are paying attention. Another proud moment of mine is the time Lori was talking and suddenly stopped to give me a pop quiz to see if I was listening. I quoted everything she said back to her, WORD FOR WORD.  I should be given a Nobel Prize.

Men should learn that words actually communicate something different to women than the definition of the word.

Men use the word "fine" to mean something looks good and does not need improvement. Women consider the word "fine" to be an insult.Consider this scenario: Wife models a new dress for her husband. Her: "Do you like it?"  Him: "It's fine"  What She Hears: "It looks like death warmed over." I would suggest you consult a thesaurus and use words like "great", "amazing" or if you are from Alabama, "Yer so hot".

My mother gave me great piece of wisdom before I got married. She told me most marriages fail in either the bankbook or the bedroom.

My advice to anyone getting married is to make sure that you, as a couple, are compatible in the bankbook. You have to have a clear understanding of finances. In other words, guys, you may have to give up something if it costs too much money.

Also, I cannot stress this enough, you CANNOT HAVE SEX WITH OTHER WOMEN  WHEN YOU ARE MARRIED.  Women find this very offensive and it will cost you a lot of money.

My final bit of advice: You don't have to win every argument. You don't have to argue. I've found that the pain in my head goes away when I agree with Lori. It is quicker that way.

I encourage everyone to get married. It has really worked for me. Of course, it helps when you have a wife like mine.

Sorry boys, but she is taken.

The Next Stage

Two weeks ago, I was sitting at my desk at work. I had just gotten a cup of coffee since I was going to work a little longer that day. I had my ear buds in and I was listening to iTunes on my phone.

There's a statement 16 year old Alan never thought in a million years he would ever say as 55 year old Alan. I was listening to songs on my phone. Back when I was growing up, all phones were landlines and came in one color: black. Sure, they "had" other colors like red and green, but those were for rich people.

A call came through. It was my wife.

I think Caller ID is an amazing, miraculous invention. Now, you don't HAVE to answer the phone. You can let it go to Voice Mail. Again, and it wasn't that long ago, that you HAD to answer the phone because it might be someone important.

I thought it was odd. My wife usually calls me at the office number, not on my cell phone. Then, I heard a voice I hadn't heard before.

In that split second, a million ideas, none of them pleasant, went through my mind. The main theme of all of those thoughts was something bad had happened to my wife.

The voice identified herself as someone who works with my wife and explained my wife's father had died. She said my wife was very upset. I asked if she wanted me to come pick her up. I heard "Yes" and I could picture my wife shaking her head.

I told my boss I had to go. But I had to shut down my computer and finish my cup of coffee. My boss asked what I was waiting on. I told her about the coffee. She gave me a Styrofoam cup and told me to leave.  

I was walking to my car and I called my wife back. She had gotten over the initial shock and asked me to meet her at her father's house. I went to her father's house.

I called our son and told him. He said he would meet us there.

I got there first. There was a police car. Two officers were inside. They explained that while it was technically a crime scene, the detective (who had just left) is about 100% sure it was natural causes. A neighbor that regularly checks on him, found him dead. They wanted a family member to identify him.

They took me back to a bedroom. There he was.

You always wonder what you would say in a moment like that. I said, "Yep, that's him." Brilliant, I know.

Now it has been two weeks.

We have been going through the house. The man must have kept everything he ever bought.

He had not one, but two copies of John Denver's Greatest Hits. One on "vinyl" and one on CD. I never knew he liked John Denver.  He also had a copy of Englebert Humperdinck's  After The Lovin'.  Englebert just didn't seem like his type of guy.

The man was never at a loss for a ladder. I counted five. And if you need a screwdriver, I think I know where you can find one at. 

We opened one drawer. It was full of tax returns. One was from when Jimmy Carter was President. If the IRS is going that far back on you, you are in trouble.

My wife and her family are working on the estate. It is going to be a challenge but it will get done.

Two weeks after the day, we met a couple for dinner. They have two kids. All have graduated from college, like my son. They have a son that is married. They are empty nesters like we will be in a few months.

The husband was the executor of his father's estate. He gave us a few pointers  and related his experience.

I left our meal thinking about the stages of life. We're in school. We pair up. We marry. We buy houses. We have kids. We go to school plays. We go to baseball games and football games. We turn around and the kid has sideburns and a girl friend. We turn around again and the kid has a degree and a fiance. We bury our parents.

Here we are at another stage of life. Some stages are simply more fun than others.

Rolling

There is a question asked on Google that never would have been asked in my youth.

"What does it mean to have people throw toilet paper into the trees of your yard?"

Really, people, have we descended into such a state that we do not know what it means to have your yard "TPd"?

It is a badge of honor, or at least it was in the mid-70's in East Cobb. Only the cool people had their yard "rolled". That's what we called it. We would say, "Yeah, did you hear Alan got rolled Saturday?"

Actually, we wouldn't say that. Alan wasn't cool enough to get rolled. I still blame that on not being selected for  The Key Club, which would have meant I could have worn a cool goldish-yellow shirt and have my house rolled. Maybe being short, skinny, with major league zits, Coke-bottle glasses and the hint of b.o. had something to do with it too.

For the young people out there, here's how the pros did it.

First of all, you went out late at night, when all of the adults have gone to bed. You go to the store and buy some toilet paper and you throw it up into the trees of your buddy's house (note: it was important to make sure your buddy was inside his house and not out rolling his own home). That's it. That's what we did in the 70's besides sex, drugs and listening to records. (Another thing kids: we listened to RECORDS not VINYLS. Don't make me repeat myself.)

Once you have thrown the paper into the trees, you stand back and marvel at your work. Then you rush back into the car, laugh, and go home to watch Blue Oyster Cult on The Midnight Special.

When you got to school Monday, you asked your buddy about his weekend. He would say, "Man, somebody rolled my house. Man, my Dad was super ticked. Man, he made me clean it up, man. Then it started to rain. Man." When he walked off, you laughed at him behind his back. It was a great preparation for adulthood.

One of my friends says he must have gone "rolling" at least ten times.  They did such a good job on a yard that it made the newspapers.

Another friend had a boyfriend and his pals roll her yard. When they completed their task,they piled the empty roll tubes on her front step and rang the doorbell. When her family answered the door, the boys were already at the top of the street. The family was treated to a Wheeler boy version of "We Wish You A Merry Christmas".  She was, in her own words, "extremely flattered".

She still had to clean it up the next day.

There were different groups that "rolled". One group, a bunch of Baptist kids, called themselves "The Holy Rollers". The band rolled everybody in the band. Heck, my friend Moody was in a group that rolled with people from our Latin class. It was called "The Roman Rollers " and they had their own song.

Oh we're the Roman Rollers you've heard so much about.
Mothers hide their daughters whenever we are out.
We fight with knives, forty-fives and broken bottles, too.
Oh, we're the Roman Rollers, who the (blank*) are you?
*Back then we censored even the mildest of profanities.

And yes, I even went rolling one time myself.

On the evening of the Senior Prom, the group I was with went and rolled this guy's house. There was a girl in the group that had a crush on this boy and when he failed to ask her to the prom, she ended up having to go the prom with a geek. Therefore, she initiated a "Revenge Roll". Or maybe it was a "We're Still Friends Roll". She was bound and determined to show this boy her true feelings, no matter how complex they were.

We arrived at this house at around 2:00 in the morning.  From there, we just threw toilet paper into the trees.

The sound the toilet paper made coming down from the sky was absolutely beautiful. Kind of like The Fourth of July, except with  toilet paper.

What made me think about rolling was not that it is getting to be Prom Season. It was David.

I have known David since I was six years old.  He was born missing a heart valve and wasn't expected to live past the age of twelve. There he was, at age seventeen, rolling this house with us.

When we finished rolling the house, we scampered off to the cars. We got in and began making a slow roll out of the area. We heard "Wait!" and stopped the car. Then we heard a thud. David ran into a stopped car.

Instead of being mad with us, David laughed that laugh. I can still hear it now. He always laughed at my stupid jokes. I can't describe how much that means to me.

After high school, David had other health challenges, but he always bounced back. He graduated college, got married and had a career.

David died the other day.

Now when I think about rolling yards with toilet paper,  I think of David. I am extremely flattered to have known him.

Pogie

This is the eulogy I gave at my father in law's funeral. I promise to try to be funny next week.


First of all, we would like to express our appreciation to all of you for coming out on such short notice. To be honest, although Mr. Stanley had been in a bad way for a long time, it is always a shock when that moment comes. However, it was very peaceful and for that we give thanks.


It is difficult saying goodbye to such a larger than life character as my father in law. And he was a character.

He was a refrigeration engineer for Colonial Stores/Grand Union. His job was to make sure the refrigeration units were running and to fix them when something happened. His motto: "It was running when I left".

He was a true engineer. He loved taking things apart to see how they worked.

He was not afraid of new technology. He loved his computer and playing around with it. We got him a cell phone a few years ago and he learned how to text. He could text as well as any teenager!

He had his hobbies. The Day Lillies and Bonsai Trees. He was a talented woodworker. He had an incredible shop. He made us a clock when we got married. He inscribed on the inside: "Handcrafted by W.A.Stanley".

He also raced Homing Pigeons. One time he went up to Chattanooga for a race, released the pigeon, drove home and when he got there, the pigeon was there! However, the pigeon was up in a tree. He needed the pigeon to fly out of the tree and into the pigeon cage where he untie the tag on the pigeon's leg and clock his obvious winning effort. The pigeon had another idea and so there was Pogie, out in his backyard  yelling at a pigeon to fly down and get into his cage.

About his nickname: he was tagged "Pogie" by his father after a cartoon character. [Note: After the service, my brother in law says he was named after a boxer. I'm sure that's right and I regret the error.]  The name stuck and it was always odd to hear someone call him William or Bill.

When they made Pogie, they broke the mold. There was nobody like him.

He had a way of speaking that was all his own. His oldest daughter's name is Julia. I never heard her called anything but "Jew-ya". My own beloved wife, Lori, L-o-r-i, was called "Laurie" L-a-u-r-i-e.

When you asked him a question, he would answer it "Well, you see here..." and you were in for a long detailed explanation from an engineer. And if he said "Yeah..." you were in for a story.

My all time favorite Pogie story is about Pogie and the Georgia fan. I'm not meaning to offend or surprise any of  my fellow Baptists here, but Mr. Stanley's father was a tavern owner. The tavern was called "Duffy's" and was in Mid-town near The Fox Theatre.

Once after a Georgia-Georgia Tech game (back during the Bobby Dodd years when Tech was a power house) a customer came in. He was dressed head to toe in the stereotypical boola-boola get up of the time. The man was wearing a full length fur coat with a straw hat.

The man ordered a beer. Pogie served it to him and he drank it in one long continuous swallow. When he finished, the man wiped the foam off his face with the sleeve of his coat and said "I HATE GEORGIA TECH!"  Pogie responded (and I will use only the initials ) "THWG" and punched the man in the face, which obviously caused a big ruckus.

Now, I have been a UGA fan all of my life, mainly because I'm saved, but I could not help but to say to Pogie: "Haven't you heard that the customer is always right?" He said, "Yeah..but that time he wasn't!"

I would like to thank his neighbor, Janice Foster. She really helped us out. A LOT. Thanks, Janice, you are the best.

I would also like to take this opportunity to address the Masons that are here. He loved being a Mason and was once a "Worshipful Master". One time, he and Mary went to North Carolina in a old used car that he bought. Up until recently, he always bought used cars and he went through cars like you might go through office supplies. So, here's Pogie and Mary somewhere in North Carolina and the car conks out.  He pulled off to the side of the road. He said, "Yeah....there we were on the side of the and I just flashed the Mason Signal of Distress and somebody stopped". I later found out his "signal" was standing by the side of the road, jumping up and down and waving his hands. But, don't worry, that was the only "secret" he revealed.

One side of Pogie that a lot of people don't know is that he was an incredible cook. The man could flat "burn". I'll give him this: he made the best chili and Brunswick stew. He was a biscuit making master, too.

Someone who can't be here today was his little friend, Chico. Chico was a dog he found at the pound and became Pogie's companion. Pogie took care of Chico and Chico looked after Pogie.

[Note: After the services, the Funeral Home director said Chico would have been welcomed to come. I laugh thinking about giving this eulogy and looking over and seeing Chico in a pew.]

Someone else, of course is Mary. They were married for about 56 years. After he retired, he would take her shopping and down to Union City to see Mary's sister Gerri. Mary and Pogie are now together again, "in a land that knows no parting".

You probably couldn't find two people who were less alike than me and him. He could fix just about anything and I am one of the biggest klutzes in the world. I can't tell you how many times he came out to our house to fix something that was torn up or worn out. But he always came out and it was running when he left.

She's No Bill

The latest scandal involving a Clinton (and isn't that a phrase we learned how to cut and paste) has erupted over Hillary Clinton conducting government business over a private email.

From ABC  News

She may have been fundraising for The Clinton Foundation, which supposedly is doing wonderful things around the world with the money from despicable people. Or she may have been discussing Benghazi or rather, discussing how to make Benghazi no big deal . Or, if you listen to her, she was sending 30,000 emails about her mother's funeral or Chelsea's wedding. Or sending a "personal" email to President Bill.

What would a personal email from Hillary Clinton to President Bill look like?  "Hey, stuck in Munich. Again. :(  Hope you enjoyed going to Little Rock. Love ya- H"

Or would it be:  "That little tart BETTER BE out of the house when I get home!- H"

As we all know, Hill's and Bill's marriage has been one that is either "a mystery" to quote George Stephanopoulos or one of convenience to quote everybody else on the planet. Bill needed Hillary to sweep away his Southern Horny Frat Boy reputation and Hillary needed Bill to prove to everyone that she is a heterosexual. (That's just a joke, son, just a joke.)

However, in one way, Bill has it way over Hillary and that is in lying.

A lie, in President Bill's hands, was truly a incredible work of art.  He was a master at it.

Take his famous "Ah, dad naught have sacks wid that woemun, Miz Lewinsky" (Translation for the Southern Impaired: "I did not have sex with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky.") statement.

He looked straight at the camera. He pointed his crooked index finger at the camera as if to say, "You little idiot, HOW DARE YOU EVEN THINK OF SUCH A THING!".  He then pounded the podium to emphasize his point. Not only did he not have sex with that woman, he wouldn't even think to have sex with that or any woman besides his darling Hillary, who was stupid hot back at Yale. (That's another joke, son, just a joke.)

This is what stupid hot looked like in 1969

It made you sorry that it was brought up. Sorry, President Bill, go on with your President Bill stuff and we'll leave you alone.

Of course, as we learned later, President Bill did not have sex with that woman because he didn't think that counted as sex when even the educated fleas that do it count it as sex. So in President Bill's mind, he wasn't really lying, per se, it was just a disagreement on definitions.

Hillary's press conference last week didn't even come close to the artistry of President Bill. She looked tired. She acted like a victim, which she learned from President Bill, but she really didn't do very well.

In her book It Takes A Village, Hillary relates her first nursing experience with Chelsea. “There I was, trying to breast-feed my baby [Chelsea], and all of a sudden she starts foaming at the nose. The nurse surveyed the scene and said, ‘Mrs. Clinton, it would help if you lifted her head up.’ All those years of education, all those degrees, it was no help. For all the talk about family values in this country, we do so little to value families.”

This is an interesting passage. The education and degrees that were of little value was Hillary's. The education and the degrees of the nurse came in handy. The sentence:  For all the talk about family values in this country, we do so little to value families” is a little odd to me. Was it society's fault that the first nursing experience wasn't this grand and glorious moment?  Hillary sounds like she would have done it right if it hadn't been for these darn Republicans.

She also sounded like she didn't know what she was talking about. The whole idea that she thought she would need two "devices" (smart phones) for two separate e-mail addresses is laughable. Here's a woman that we have been told for decades is one of the best and the brightest in this country actually thought she would need two smart phones for two email accounts?

Democrats are always talking about how Republicans are not smart enough. Dan Quayle. Sarah Palin. George W. Bush.  Yet, Hillary Clinton thinks you need two smart phones to have two email accounts. To me, that's worse than misspelling potato.

Or does she know it is not true and thinks you're too dumb to care. I am betting on that.