inventory

Tonight the world will celebrate the coming of 2012, and rightfully so. I guess I'm right there with everybody else, the only difference, while I am enjoying a fine bourbon I'm also timing contractions. Not a typical way to pass a new years eve, but its all good.

With the turning of the year it seems appropriate to reflect on the past 12 months and take stock of the success and failure. It would be easy to look at bank accounts and possessions to gauge how the year ended up, but a really true measures of where you are at in life calls for a but more introspection. It seems to me that if a person really wants to understand their self worth; one of the true measures is what you have been able to do for the people you count among your friends. I'm not speaking of how many time you bought lunch, or beer, or whatever, but have you been there when they were down. Were you there to enjoy the times they were on top, and did you really relish their good times as much as they did. I expect if you can answer yes to both these questions than your value as a friend out weighs most every thing else that most people associate with worth.

For me, I feel fortunate to be able to count maybe a half dozen people among my friends. Some of them I don't see but once or twice a year,  but that's neither here nor there. For those that have solid relationships time does not seem to be a barrier. In 2011 I was able to renew (face to face) two relationships with old friends that reach as far back as ten or more years. I while I understand that the good times we spent drinking and shooting pool helped to build the relationships, I'm forced to wonder what forged them to the point where time has no meaning. Is it a bond between like souls that can't be explained, or is it something more simple? Truth is I don't know, and I guess, in the end it does not matter.  What really matters is that true friends are never gone.

True Friends are never gone. This is one of the life lessons I learned in 2011. Until this year I have always thought the people drifted in and out of life with no meaning or purpose. Tonight, I'm glad to say that I have learned another way of thinking: our friends are exactly what Webster says they are supposed to be. And I have not even broached the meaning of family relations; which are stronger yet.

I wish each of you a fruitful 2012


   

300 south

There is something about a chance to go go home that allows a person to, for a second, forget about all the troubles of the world. For me letting go of things starts on interstate 75 south about 50 miles north of Atlanta. I can't explain why, but for what ever reason, on the drive home the musical lyrics sound a little more refreshing and the feeling in my soul becomes a little more bright.  It is with out fail that by the time I make the right on to the Georgia-Florida Parkway that I have forgotten worldly trouble and my mind is free drift in and out of good days gone by and better days to come. All these good feelings are, I believe, multiplied this trip simply because of the time of the year.

I have to admit that I'm not huge on the whole Christmas vibe, but its a valid reason (pretty well mandatory) for my family to come together and enjoy each other's company. And Yes, some of our traditions facilitate the connection. After all, how can you not enjoy going to church half drunk on Christmas Eve? My people have been doing it as long as I remember. I do find the exchange of gifts a bit cumbersome, but even in that I can see the pride that the the practice of giving can bring. If I had the understanding about what made other folks happy I'm almost certain I would take the same pride in giving as they do, but it seems I'm a little deficient in that department.

Allow me to address the new year.
2011 has been pretty tough for my clan, but it seems that (knock on would) we are on the rebound. Ever one seems and good health and expansion mode is in full effect. It is interesting to watch our little family expand and contract this time of year. Our way seems to add and subtract places at the table every Christmas (and we add with open arms). But for the first time in resent memory every one is truly well liked and welcome back to close 2012.

I hope every one had a Christmas to remember and has a  happy new year.

my tunes

Tonight the house is filled with the smell of pork chops and grits and I just got back from Five Forks Grocery Store with a 6 pack of Bock. Not a bad way to pass a Saturday night. I spent a large portion of today with cleaning and cooking around the house with a pair of ear phones belting out out my favorite tunes. Which has got to thinking that it would be selfish not to share a few of the best artist and songs with you guys.

Whiskey Myers - I found these guys on i tunes some how and I'm sure glad I did. They are from east Texas, but you would think they grew up in the same house as Ronnie Vans Zant or Gregg Allman. They have a sound that clearly is the closest thing to southern rock since the peak of Skynard. Their web site (http://www.whiskeymyers.com/band.htm) also list Cross Canadian Rag Weed and Reckless Kelly as major influences; that's a can't miss. I would recommend "Ballad of a Southern Man" and "Nobody Knows Her Name" as good tracks to start with.

Avett Brothers - I can't recall if I mentioned these guys or not in my last post about music. If not, here we go. This band lands a little on the folk side of things to my ear which is no surprise considering their North Carolina roots.  I believe their strength is the strong lyrics they produce and is evidenced in the song "Head Full of Doubt." One of my dear friends once asked me to recommend a song for the repeat button and I went with "Alabama Pines" by Jason Isbell, but "Head Full of Doubt" would have worked to; its that good.

The Greencards - This band may not be for everybody as they are deeply rooted in bluegrass and instrumentals. I love their style and sound. Whats better than a violin/fiddle? Nothing.
Their "The Brick" Album is a great place to start.

I'm a sucker too for covers here are a few good ones
"Simple Man" artist The Rambles
"Sledge Hammer" artist Dave Matthews Band
"Pursuit of Happiness" artist Lessie (not for the kids)
"Train to Birmingham" artist Stoney LaRue
"Two Out of Three Aint Bad" Artist Jamey Johnson
"Wichita Lineman" artist REM  Yes I said REM

I hope ya'll enjoy, and I'm always looking for new music. If you have a gem don't keep it to your self. Pass it my way.

hot stove: the what the hell are the marlins doing edtion

I am well aware that most of the folks that read my post are not avid baseball fans. But hey, don't feel bad about that nobody is perfect.

For those of you that don't follow the hot stove season, last week Major League Baseball hosted its annual winter meetings. Every year all the trade rumors and free agent signing crescendo at the winter meetings. This is the week that every baseball fan defines their team's off season success and failure. While I understand the hype and fanfare that leads up to the Winter Meetings, I don't buy the concept that a baseball team's season is dependent the events of last week. That being said it was relativity depressing to watch the Marlins sign Reyes, Bell, and Buehrle while the home team didn't do anything. I guess the good news was that the Phillies and Nats didn't make any head lines either. More good news: Albert and CJ are in the American League West not in Miami too.

Now that I have had some time to digest the three major signings that Miami made I'm not sure that they will be the beast of the east that every one else seems to thinks they will be. If you combine each of the three player's W.A.R. (wins above replacement) the marlins spent $191 MILLION on eleven more wins than they had last year. That puts them at about a .500 team. Of course I'm not counting on Josh Johnson and Hanley Ramiez coming back strong. If they both have the seasons that they are capable of then maybe they could win 90 games and contend for the wild card. I guess we will have to see. 

I'm still waiting on the home team to make their move. Most of the rumors that I have read or heard involve the Braves trading our all star pitcher Jair Jurrjens for an out field bat. I really like that guy and hope that Frank does not make that move. I would rather see one of the young pitching prospects (not Teheran) and Prado for a bat in left. We could also sign one of the non-tenders to a short term deal to add some power to the out field,  Luke Scott comes to mind. 

On the subject of short stop; the Braves have changed their position some what since the beginning of the off season. It looks like we are going to have Tyler Pastornicky  playing short every day. With the Brave's track record of bringing up rookies the last few years (Heyward, Kimbrell, and Freeman) I can't argue with their decision. However, my gut is they may be rushing this kid a little to quickly. 

One more quick point: I really hope that our two non tenders find their way back to Atlanta. Moylan and Conrad are quality players and seemingly good guys. Any one that remembers the 2010 Hanson start against the Reds knows what kind of player Brooks Conrad can be. And if we trade Prado, who is going to back up Chipper? With out Moylan I'm not sure that our pen is deep enough; O'venbrell  was over used last year and I don't see any one to pull the slack like Peter Moylan could if he comes back healthy.       

leaving raleigh

A day ago I left one of the coldest most dreary cities I have ever stayed in, Raleigh, North Carolina. Every time I have ever been in Raleigh my favorite part of the whole trip was the I-40 west sign. Now, to be fair to the city I have only been there between the months of December and February. I'm almost certain that Raleigh has nice days just like any where else, but I haven't seen them. So the logical train of though would be that yesterday morning when I left four hours before I was scheduled to that my mood would lift, but on occasions no matter how bad the weather, eight hours from home is a good thing.

The bad news came Tuesday morning just as the meetings in Raleigh were getting underway. And even though I was shocked and disturbed by events in back home in Georgia, some things don't seem real until you see it for your self. The denial of reality, in this case, was aided by good company of a few friends that are quick with a joke and generous with their whiskey. I even had the distraction of the Pujols' contract to keep my mind busy for bulk of the drive home. But even I can't avoid whats real forever. 

It was probably not until I was on the northern corridor out side of Atlanta that I began to let the gravity of the week's event take hold of my mind. By the time I made the right hand turn in to the funeral home my soul was heavy with questions, pity, and (let's be honest) a fair amount of anger. Once I entered the home though the anger faded completely away and was replaced with an over whelming feeling of something I don't have the words for. I only know that I wished for the people most affected by Tuesday's suicide could recover from their grief as soon as possible. After all, the pain the they were feeling was no fault of their own, instead it was caused by a  selfish act of a desperate man. 

I have always struggled to understand how life could be so bad that a person feels like the best alternative is nothing. I also find the act of suicide cowardly and selfish, perhaps the most selfish act conceivable. How can a person with any internal strength, or belief, or faith, or good old fashion kiss-my-ass leave their friends and family behind to pick up the mess they have made of their life? What is the weakness in a person's heart that allows them to turn their back on everything? Why are they not able to enjoy life's pleasure enough to want to live them? These are just a few of the questions I'm left wondering, but hoping not to dwell on. 

fatty

In December I will have my seventh anniversary with my current company. To be successful in my current position I mostly rely on mental faculties. The tools that I commonly employ are, relationship building skills, technical knowledge, and the ability cover a lot of ground. Notice that these don’t include anything that even closely resembles physical activity, which is quite different from most all of the work I have ever done previous to beginning work in my chosen field. At first I did not think much about the change in work environment, but after a few years I began to notice horrifying changes; I began to get fat.

Getting fat is an interesting experience. It stalks you very slowly and patiently until one day you realize that your stomach feels disgusting underneath your shirt. Your belt buckle that once laid flat now looks downward toward your feet, almost like it’s embarrassed to around your waist. Maybe the most eye popping part of the experience is looking at a picture of yourself proudly displaying a round belly and cheeks that could be mistaken for a chipmunk’s. What’s more, nobody really has the gumption to tell you “Hey, by the way, you could stand to lose some weight.” You have to figure it out on your own.  

I have to say, though, that once you come to this realization the road back is every bit as intriguing. For the better part of my life when people spoke about exercise I would proudly say that my feelings on the subject were “no pain means no pain.” This made that first trip to the gym very awkward, but after about a year learning human nutrition and exercise physiology I am forced to admit that I was in error. In fact, learning the skill set required to accomplish losing my salesman’s body has been one of my more rewarding undertakings.  I expect too, that it’s much like anything else I have ever tried to do well; the more I learn, it seems the less I know. This seems to be the learning curve with anything that’s worth doing well. The major difference is this time I have foresight to understand this is how things work. This understanding has allowed me grow in this experience without arrogance or preconceptions that typically sets me back. Is that arrogant to say???

Anyway, I might have started rambling a little and if so; my apologies. My point here is to simply express the satisfaction I have found, in finding myself in a gym. For those of you that have known me well, I’m willing to bet you are as surprised as I am.

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving. 

be good at it

We have all been trained to do something. It does not matter if the training came from formal education, or experience, or both, I think we all want to be the best at whatever we do. There are, no doubt, some people that have the talent and drive to be the best and some that don't, but I believe all most everybody possesses the desire to be the best. Of course I'm not blind to the exceptions to the rule; if my conjecture was 100% true well fare would not be as much of an issue as it is today. My point, though, is not to have a political dialog, but to reflect on the times when a person is able rise up and be extremely good at whatever it is they do.

It occurs to me that in order for a person to excel at anything certain conditions must be present. Even after someone has put vast amount of effort in becoming well versed in a discipline there must be some sort of an opportunity for a person to show case their talent. For some professions it seems this opportunity would be readily available, for example a professional athlete is able to look at a schedule months before a game and know that on that day he is going to have to be at his best. For most of us though, there is no off season and we have to be prepared to preform at our highest level at any time. We often find ourselves in situations that present problems that are unexpected, and these unexpected issues are, in my view, the best chances we will ever have to be at our best.

The catch to this, of course, is in order to deal with the unexpected problem we have to be prepared to deal with anything at a moment's notice. There are tools that we always have at or disposal like, intellect, charm, and strength. Others though, are a product of preparation. Those of us that are willing to take the time to prepare for situations that we can't foresee, are the people that are able to excel in our chosen vocation. When the time comes to be good, and you are able to rise above expectations, the reward is always worth the time sacrificed to prepare. I'm not speaking of money or even the respect of other, the reward is a feeling of pride and self worth that we are able to take home and use to drive ourselves to be the best again.  

hot stove: 2nd edition

I suppose it would be wrong to say that the hot stove is in full effect. We are still several weeks away from the winter meetings, but the signings and rumors really seam to be starting to get wheels. The allure of baseball's off season is like no other sport; with professional football, for example, a fan can take the summer to devote to other passions. Not so with baseball, it seems that a fan of a team (or the game) wants to keep up with their team and division year round. This year it seems that for Braves fans it going to be more of a matter of  watching the other teams in the National League East than watching what Frank does.

Already this year the Phillies have signed Jonathan Papelbon to a 4 year 50 million dollar deal, and the Marlins have offered Jose Reyes a pretty large contract. I'm still not sure that Reyes will go to Miami, but if he does they will have a really good line up. Reyes, Ramerize, Stanton, Morrison, and Coglin would be tough for even Holliday and Lee to get through. This is not to mention the fact that they are also talking to Pojols this week.  In regards to the Phillies signing Papelbon to handle the 9th inning duties; you have to believe that along with their starters, most teams will be happy to win a game 2-1. They certainly won’t get blown out often.

Of the two other teams in the league, I have to believe that the Nationals will do something radical. After last year’s Jason Worth deal nothing they do will surprise me. In fact I believe they have as good of chance at getting Albert Pojols as anyone except the Cardinals. With Strasburg coming back from Tommy John’s they look to be a solid team.  As for, the Mets, well let’s just hope they get Jose Reyes signed before the Marlins.

The home team looks pretty solid as it is, with the exception of short stop. And after having 3 rookies finish in the top 2 in the Rookie of the Year balloting (Kimbrel, Freeman, and Heyward) over the last two seasons; I have to believe that if Frank goes with Tyler Pastornicky at the 6 position we will be good to go. My biggest concern for next year is can Frank find someone to fill in for Chipper on the days when he’s not good to go. I guess Prado could fill in at 3^rd but then what about left, and what happens if we trade Prado? I guess we’ll find out soon enough. I biggest hope for the Atlanta off season is that Frank does not trade Jair Jurrjens. I really like that guy, he seems to enjoy playing the game for the sake of the game.  There are not many guys that seem to enjoy playing as much as he does anymore, and that makes him all the more enjoyable to watch. Not to mention he is a hell of a pitcher. 

the murph

I have made a point to keep the every day details of my life some what obscure in all of my post to date. Today though, I would like to share a specific experience that  will require some specifics. Please forgive me from the departure from the norm.

Today I participated in a  work out named simply "Murph". The workout garners its name from Lt Micheal Murphy, who was killed in operation Enduring Freedom. There is no way I could ever have the words to describe the events that lead to his death, my life has been too easy to understand such things (if you would like to read about it visit http://www.navy.mil/moh/mpmurphy/) . But it is worth saying; this brave American was the first Navy man awarded the Medal of Honor since Vietnam. It is my belief that none of us will ever know the courage that this man possessed.

Tonight, as I compose this post, the soreness that I have in my legs, chest, and back has become a reminder of this American hero. I am surely not the only one either; I expect tens of thousand of other people that participated today across our nation have the same fatigue and appreciation for Lt Murphy.  While I understand fully that, compared to the sacrifices that the men and women of our military make everyday, today's event was insignificant. I'm still carrying an amount of pride that I was able to (in a small way) honor the memory of one of our country's best. It is one of my wishes that we, as a nation, would take more time to honor and thank the brave men of the Armed Forces. They deserve more than one day a year.

give me the beat

Except for a fine bottle of bourbon there is nothing that will set a mind at ease quicker than a song that has the lyrics, tempo, and beat that speaks to you. It does not matter what mood or frame of mind you find your self in; someone has written a song that can make the moment more enjoyable, bearable, or whatever the situation calls for. Music has the power to cut down the hours in an all night drive, to dissolve the stresses of a hard day, and to provide motivation to exercise harder, quicker, and longer. Science and medicine have even begun to embraced music as therapy for all kind of patience.

I realize that everyone that reads this post will have different taste in music, and will not find my taste to their liking.  I still though, would like to share some of my favorite bands and songs. It should be said, that I have been accused of liking "sleepy songs"  so if your in to upbeat stuff this might be where you want to hop off.

Dave Matthews Band - With out a doubt, my all time favorite their live stuff is awesome

And long those same lines - Wide Spread Panic - has to be one of the best jam bands that ever released live albums from Athens, Huntsville, and Valdosta, which are all solid.

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - This guy got his start with the Drive By Truckers and is really a great artist. "Alabama Pines" and "The Last Song That I Will Write" are two of his best works

Old Crow Medicine Show - A dear friend from Raleigh turned me on to these guys a while back, and since then their song "Wagon Wheel" has become a staple of most every guy with a guitar. I have enjoyed their "Tennessee Pusher" album

Son Volt - This is an very good band that apparently didn't make it. I think they started our as Uncle Tupelo and split into Wilco and Son Volt. Check out the "Trace" album, it has some good stuff

Robert Earl Keen - Enough said

Cross Canadian Ragweed - These guys just broke up, but Cody Canada is still making some good music. If you don't know these guys I would recommend starting with one of their live cuts

These are just a few. If this post is well received by you guys I will get into music a little deeper sometime.

grit

Recently I was told that "a person has to have a certain grit" to be successful here. At the time I wondered if she was questioning whether I had that grit, and whether she might be right to ask that question. Tonight, I'm forced to wonder where the drive, fortitude, or grit to get "one more" comes from. Is it born inside us, or do we learn it over time? What is grit really?

I expect the answer to the second question is easier to handle. To find a man that is the portrait of grit, we don't have to look much further than a L'Amour or McMurtry novel and you'll find the Webster's definition of tough. Men and women with grit are all over the silver screen, and there is even a segment of psychology devoted to defining grit (google grit psychology). According to Wikipedia grit is defined as "a positive, non-cognitive trait, based on an individual’s passion for a particular long-term goal or endstate coupled with a powerful motivation to achieve their respective objective. This perseverance of effort promotes the overcoming of obstacles or challenges that lay within a gritty individual’s path to accomplishment and serves as a driving force in achievement realization." After reading this definition several times the point that becomes obvious is, in order for a person to have grit they must have a goal. After some thought this point makes perfect sense; when is the last time you saw a pan-handler and thought "boy, that guy must be tough?"

Grit.. It is a word that most every one would like to use to describe themselves. I believe, though, that using the word in any analysis of yourself would be worse than arrogant. Grit has to be used to describe you when your not listening, and to my mind their could not be a  more flattering way for some one to think of you. I suppose the only way to achieve this in another's eye is to be the hardest working son-of-bitch around for an awful long time. You are going to have to deal with failure with a resilience not displayed by common people. You are going to have to handle pain like it didn't hurt. You are going to have to possess a rare passion.

Even if a person does not have grit I would expect the quest for it would be a gritty goal.      

sunday morning coming down

Earlier this week while talking with an old friend I was reminded of days when a Friday pay check equaled a long a week end spent in dive bars where ever we were. Those weekends always ended badly on Sunday morning. I recall, quite clearly, the painful haze of the hang overs; as the song says "no way to hold your head that didn't hurt." It was not just a head ache involved though, a week stomach, a stabbing neck pain, and incredible fatigue all had to be dealt with on Sundays. And to be honest, there isn't an aspirin in the world that can make a dent in a good hangover. I suppose the main question that comes to mind is; Why did we do that to our selves? The answer: It was well worth the pain. In those days we had very little real responsibility.On the worst mornings the hardest job we might have had was to get up and feed whatever animals that were under our care. And even though the job seemed tough at the time you could struggle through it with out much problem.

Now though, things have changed; while Sunday mornings are not exactly pain free, they have become much more enjoyable. The pain that I have this morning is a dull ache in my chest and back, but instead of the regret of a bender, I am able to take pride in this morning's soreness. It comes from a better place. Now I drink my coffee and have my morning smoke while enjoying the cool crispness of a golden fall morning. This is opposed to taking them in an effort to be able to move with out the urge to bend over the toilet. Overall, these days, Sunday mornings are, more often than not, some of the finest hours in the week.

From time to time I am still subject to having a few too many on Friday or Saturday night. Those nights are still one of my favorite way to pass some time, but I have learned to appreciate the reasons to keep those nights few and far between.

I stole the title of this post from the great Kris Kristofferson, who wrote the best description of Sunday morning ever.

the new guy

It's a well know fact that we are creatures of habit. In every thing we do from getting ready for work in the morning to the way we sleep are routines that mostly don't change. I believe we find comfort in our routines, and in the people and places we are familiar with, and with good reason. When we try to add something new in our life, for what ever reason, we are forced to move out of the comfort zones that we so carefully created for our self.  While breaking out of our box is a very tough thing to do, the results are almost always a benefit. It has been said that nothing worth doing is easy. That being said, there are few things in life that are as as hard and uncomfortable as being the "new guy" in a group.

In my professional life I have watched many of my peers come and go, and watched new folks struggle to find their way. While I'm certainly not the most experienced team member on the pay roll, I have been around long enough long enough to know the system. My personal life is much the same; I have not made any signification changes in quit some time. Today, though, I walked in to a room of folks and was the new guy. It does not seem to matter how welcoming and gracious a group of people are, trying to become a member of an established group of people is an awkward proposition. This not a derogatory comment against a group of people; its just the nature of the situation. There is no way the new guy in a group can understand the existing dynamics with in the group. Who gets along with who, who are the dominate people, who are the weakest.

Don't miss understand what I'm trying to say, no matter how difficult it might be (for me anyway) to become an accepted member of a group, the end result is worth the pain of being the new guy. It has been my experience that in every group of people there will be a least one person that winds up becoming a friend or a great influence. In that there is an extreme value.

So, all in all I guess I'm looking forward to the challenge

hot stove: the first edition

Its only been a few days since I posted "game 7" and already the hot stove is burning in Atlanta. With yesterday's good by to McLouth and today's departure of Lowe for a single A prospect, Braves Country is ready for next season. All the "experts" call the moves addition by subtraction, and I would have to say that for the most part I'm in agreement. It seems though, that many of the experts forget the holes that Lowe and McLouth were brought in to fill.

In sports, and in life, people tend to place their feeling, beliefs, and convictions on the last thing that they remember. They neglect the events that lead up to whatever is happening now. I believe this to be a fault of human nature. It would be too much of a cliche to say those that neglect the past are doomed to repeat it so we will leave that part out, and simply say: don't forget the quality starts. When the Braves signed Lowe as a free agent the team didn't have any pitching at all to speak of, and he was a post season hero. It made sense. His first start at the Ted was electric, 15 wins latter we all were happy Lowe was on the team. That was a few years ago though, and tonight you would think that we just traded away the worst player in MLB history. To my mind that's not fair to Lowe or the Braves.

Anyway, tonight the Hot Stove is just getting warm for the winter. It is going to fun to watch Frank make his moves over the next few months.

game 7

Spring training started on Valentines Day: Opening Day was March 31,  July 12 marked the All Star Game, and tonight is the last game of the year. Game 7 of the Fall Classic is tied at two, Harrison and Carpenter are both settling down after having shaky first innings, and its shaping up to be a good one. And rightfully so; after 7 months we deserve one for the history books.

Allan Craig!!! Cards lead 3-2

Looking back on the season now, it seems to be a haze of highs and lows. But the memory that is clear in my mind: the warm summer nights spent on the deck listening to Don Sutton and Jim Powell call the games with a cold drink and a good smoke. I believe the beauty of baseball is the easy way it lends itself to an easy laid back radio broadcast. After a day of talking, talking, and more talking, Don and Jim are happy for me not say a word for three hours while they carry the conversation. They don't get upset if I have one to many, and if my mind drifts to some where else that's no problem either.  And really, whats does life offer us that is a better experience than a balmy July night with an icy bourbon and good baseball story?

It is more than likely going to be a long cold winter this year, but the hot stove will be burning and spring training will be right around the corner. I think that should be enough to pull me through to opening day 2012.

Bottom 5th Cards still up 3-2

how 'bout them yankees

I not a person that holds on to many forms of discrimination. Sexism, racism, or any other kind of ism that most people think of are generally not part of my makeup. However, I have to admit I'm guilty of  discriminating against people from two parts of the world: northerners (also know as Yankees) and Texans (also know as assholes). This week though I have I have been forced to take another look at my opinion of Yankees.
The first thought I have when people say they are from New York, Maryland, Pennsylvania, or anywhere else in New England, is that they fit the typical northern big city profile. That is to say, I believe them to rude, uppity, and ignorant of more our gentile ways before I even shake their hand. I have to say though, I might have been in error, at least in part. Having spent all of this week so far with a colleague of mine that hails from a one of the large northern cities, have been impressed with their ability to blend in with some of Alabama's more rural people.  Apparently, despite my preconceptions, everything north of the Carolinas is not all one big city; there must be some people up there still making their living off of the land and raising their young'uns to be polite and respectful.
There are differences though that become apparent that I'm having trouble getting accustom to though. It is obvious that northern women are not treated with the same basic curtsies that women in the south take for granted. One such difference is the simple act of walking through a door. Southern women expect to be lead through an opened door into any room. This does not seem to be the expectation of a northern women; as they seem more comfortable following a man into a room. It is a small difference at first glance, but after deeper thought it makes me wonder if northern women are deprived of other common curtsies that they very well deserve. To me it is a issue of respect; one that is difficult to fully express. I can't believe that there are no men north of the Mason-Dixon that don't have the utmost respect for women, I just don't under stand how they express their respect. 
After  this week, I don't think I will be able to let go of all my prejudices against Yankees, but I have to say that I will be more open to making exceptions.  

the other old number 10

This year the fall classic has been hard a series to watch. Not because of the quality of the teams or the games. Expect for last nights pitcher's duel it been a good few games. What has made it such a hard World Series to stomach: the Texas players that left Atlanta in the Teixeira trade, and it was the damned Cards that finally sent the boys from Turner Field home for the fall.

I have to say though, I have really enjoyed watching number 10 on the Ranger's roster, Micheal Young. He reminds me a lot of the third baseman on Atlanta's squad that also wears 10. There is something special in those two guys' swing. Not being an American League guy, I have not had much of a chance to watch Young, but it's apparent right out of the box how good he is at the plate (.338 average this season). He seems to be the kind of player that made baseball America's past time, his swing seems to be effortless, his uniform is stained by the end of the night, and on the bases he is nothing but hustle. Contrast that to guys like Bonds and Clemens, and its easy to understand why the sport is regaining some of its old luster.

Anyway, if you have been having a tough time getting in to the Fall Classic, like I have this year, don't turn it off until you get to watch number 10's spot in the order. His swing is worth a few minutes of your time.

By the way... number 5 on the Saint Louis squad is pretty good too.

jaskson and clayton

For a moment allow me to set the scene: I'm in the Classic City on the corner of Jaskon and Clayton Street. The air out side is a little to cold for comfort for this time of year (53 degrees), but that does not matter much. I'm at one of the only bars left in Athens that has remained through the whole time that I have known the town, Flanagan's. At this time of day the crowd at the bar is light, a few electricians, and a few frat boys tyring to score with the bar tender. Flanagan's is always dark; you can't tell whether its midnight or noon, and there is always good music playing. As I walked in tonight Dave Matthew's "Lie in Our Graves" was on at just the right volume, loud enough to hear it and soft enough where two people could carry on a conversation with no trouble. In the 8 years since I left Athens nothing has changed at Flanagan's.

I have not made it a secret that I grew up in south Georgia, but on nights like this I think it would be more appropriate to say that is where I spent my youth. The facts point to Athens as the town where I grew up. When I came here in the fall of 1999 I was nothing more than a cocky boy with no perception of how the world really is. Not to say that I was sheltered from reality, only that I was very good at ignoring it. For the better part of 10 years I spent my nights drinking, partying, wasting my education on Clayton Street, mainly at the Bird Dog Saloon. I can recall one night when I had seven girls around me that thought I was with them or though I would be latter. At the time I thought it was pretty slick to manage to get out of the situation with out making none of them mad, but now looking back, that seems pretty selfish. On the other hand, its a thousand nights just like that that contributed a large part to the person I am today.

If all I had were nights like the one just mentioned, the path that I'm on would be quite a bit different than the one I'm on tonight. However, as it turned out I was not with out friends that were some how able to influence me in another direction all together. If it weren't for the people who were good enough to set positive examples 10 years ago I'm not sure ( and don't want to know) where or how I could have ended up. So to all of you folks I owe ya'll a debt of gratitude. The shame of it is, of all the friends I had then I only see one one a regular basis. Either I have moved on or they have, but the influence old friends had on my life is still inside me, and I guess that is what counts.

Here's to the Classic City and the people that made me what I am tonight

small town life

I don't very often get the chance to make the trip to south Georgia, where I grew up, but this weekend work brought me home. As I travel around the southeast I guess I tend to forget many of the nuances that make home, home. I have always joked with folks that I'm about half a towner, but after living in cities that are much bigger than my hometown for the last 15 years I have decided that I'm a lot more than half a towner. Maybe 85% towner. Of course, that is not to say, I don't enjoy being around home in fact there are not many things in life better than coming home.  The point I am trying to make is I have gotten a bit soiled by living close to cities that are a bit younger, or more progressive, or maybe just bigger than the home of the Syupmakers.

The people that know me any at all, know that I'm about as comfortable in a dark smokey bar as I am any where else in the world. And most any town that I find myself in, I can always find some kind of dive to pass a few hours in after a day on the road. I have to say though here in my hometown it sure looks like the closest thing I'm going to find is a not going to be dark or smokey or even have a bar stool. Bummer right?

The distinct lack of night life is not the only difference that is apparent right away. At home, and a lot of towns on the road, it doesn't matter what time of day, or day of the week, when you need to go to town to pick up a few things you can go and find them. That task is a little more complex in this small town. After we knocked off work this afternoon I had supper with a few family members, and then wanted to buy a pair of shorts to run in. At seven o'clock the only store that I could find open was the anti-small town store, Wal-Mart. I'm not sure why it strikes me as odd that all the stores are closed on Sunday, but it does. Do people in small towns not spend money on Sunday? And if they don't, why not?

Don't get me wrong I'm not being critical of small town life, I'm just wondering why is life so much different in small towns. For the most part I could not tell you the difference in the people here and in bigger towns (cities like Atlanta not with standing). Both sets seem just as happy and fulfilled with what their surroundings offer them. I guess people become accustom to whats around them, and take the good with the bad.  
     

B. S. ing

I was raised up in the deep south, and taught by my Grandma to be proud of my southern heritage. There are so many southern traditions that I have made part of my life: southern rock, grits, the cross of Saint Andrew that it would be easy to make the case that I'm a prototypical southern county boy. I have decided that this is not the case, however. There is one talent  (apparently essential ) that most southern men possess, that has eluded me all of my life, the art of Bull Shitting.

I have found that the "best" bull shitting is most likely to occur when more than two good old boys find themselves in the same place at the same time. When three or four of these guys get in the the bs mode the mind numbing stories about how grand daddy did things, or about what the government is screwing up, or about a million other things that don't add up to any thing, can go on for hours. The great catch is, if somebody knows where I'm from they expect me to not only take part in such babble, they expect me to enjoy it as much as they do. The truth is, I find it a waste of my time in most cases. If I engage a person in conversion more often than not I have a reason or a place I would like for the conversation to go. But when the Bull Shit starts any chance a person might have for directing a conversation is gone. More than gone, often times I can't even remember where I wanted it to go with it in the first place.What good can come of this? 

I don't mean to sound anti-social. In a one on one setting I can talk to someone that I care about for hours on end. However, I find the dynamics of a one on one conversation or a conversation among close friends much different. When close friends get together, something similar to bull shitting can get up and going, but the difference is there is unspoken and sometime unconscious meaning: a deeper understanding of someone you care about. However similar these conversations might be to bs a simple talk among friends will always have a purpose, a goal, an outcome: a more meaningful relationship. I'm in on that.     

Corn Bread

There is a line in Lonesome Dove where Gus tries to explain to Lorie that the only way to get through life is enjoy the small things in life. "Lorie darlin', life in San Francisco, you see, is still just life. If you want any one thing too badly, it's likely to turn out to be a disappointment. The only healthy way to live life is to learn to like all the little everyday things, like a sip of good whiskey in the evening, a soft bed, a glass of buttermilk, or a feisty gentleman like myself." I find that Gus and I share this perspective on life, and to my mind if more people could find a little joy in life's small offerings we might all be better off.

Cool weather and fine misting rain, are announcing the arrival of fall tonight. The rain is the kind of rain that sits light in the air and covers the ground in a soaking dampness. It's the kind of rain that soaks cool season grass seed giving them green life, and not a trip to the river. On an early fall night like tonight, a simple beef stew, a piece of corn bread, and a cup of cider can change your out look on life in a hurry. Its not only the hearty warmth of the stew, and the butter grit of the corn bread that set a person's mind at ease. It's also the satisfaction gained in the cooking that makes the taste so exquisite. Perhaps, the finest moment of the whole process is the corn bread falling softly out of the pan and on to the cooling rack. The sweet smell fills the kitchen in only seconds and the mere sight of the perfect yellow loaf, lets you know that your efforts resulted in something a little special.  In the words of Dave Matthews "Its a little bit of heaven and a little bit of hell yea."

In the post I quoted Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry which if you haven't read your life is not complete.
I also quoted the Dave Matthews song "corn bread." Its a pretty good song.     

American Harvest

From Atlanta to the Alabama Shoals with a detour to Talladega over the last two days, it has become obvious that Fall is here. Even though most of the leaves are still holding on the their summer green, the air has become dry, cool, and refreshing. The division series are winding down and the championship series will be taking shape in the next day or two, and while we watch the Tigers and Yankees play game 5 the American farmer is still in the field bringing in the cotton.
It is incredible to watch the American Farmer put hundreds of thousands of dollars in the the ground every spring, and then go to church on Sunday and pray for rain.  All summer long the farm tends his crops with the tenderness of a mother's touch, but rain, too much heat at the wrong time, or a hundred other things are out of his hands. Any one of these can eliminate his wages for an entire year, but every spring he shows the same hope. It is the definition of optimism, and it is not seen in any other way of life.
Now though, it is fall and all over the territory the combines are in the field. The cotton acres that you could mistake for snow covered ground are giving way to the green pickers and wagons. If you have never stopped and watched the harvesters at work you have neglected your self of an awesome experience.
As I was working  my west yesterday, out side of the small Alabama town of Hillsborough. I was in the middle of the southern harvest, and was struck by one particular scene. The over sized John Deere was  pulling his disk from the west working his way slowly to the east. I expect he was preparing the ground for a fall cover crop. The ground behind the tractor was the reddish brown hue that is typical of Alabama Clay and a wispy dust was rising behind him. On the eastern edge of the field there were three silver silos that were built to hold untold thousands of bushels of grain, and behind them the sky was a polarized blue that you only see when the air is dry and cool. Above the tractor's cab an American Flag was flying straight and true, the colors were highlighted by the late afternoon sun. I will probably never get to meet this farmer, but it seems to me that his chances of being a good man and a great American are pretty high. I like to think of him as a family man with a wife a young daughter. This kind of man would be sure to raise his little girl in the southern tradition that the majority of kids are deprived of. But as long as people need to eat and wear cotton socks I believe that in small towns all over the south there will always be red dirt girls that love their daddies that farms.

I'm Sorry

Over the last few days the phase "I'm Sorry" has been heavy in my thoughts. The realization has come to me that no other phase in our language can carry as much weight or be as meaningless as the two words "I'm sorry."   I often hear sorrow in a child's voice, and in their use of the phase there can be no doubt about their truthfulness. The same can also be true when "I'm sorry" comes from the lips of an adult, but its not the honesty of the words that I wish to  dwell on. It is the duality of the axiom's urgency  that interest me.

It is a given that from time to time we are going to do something that hurts someone that we care about. I have found that most often the things we do that hurt our most treasured relationships the most are not done out of spite, malice, or intent. However, intentional or not, once a deed is done, and can't be taken back, and you can see or hear someone's heart break... I'm sorry it the easiest word in our dictionary to use.The great trap here is that in this context "I'm sorry" becomes empty and meaningless for not only the person on the receiving end, but also to the party that utters the words. I have struggled to find words that can fill the void after committing a hurtful act, the truth is though, that no words, no matter how well stated, will ever bridge this gap between two people. Yet there are times that, even though you might be willing to climb Everest to make things better,  words are the only tools available. At times like this I'm forced to wonder does time really heal all wounds? Maybe only time will tell

There is a song by Sarah Darling  "Sorry seems to be the hardest word" that tells the story of a  declining relationship between two lovers. I have found that often times when people fight or have disagreements, such as the song describes, the root of the dispute is a small thing. Even though, it might be a small thing that people fight about pride, or ego, or i don't know what keeps them from saying "I'm sorry." And here it is such an easy fix. By being able to make the most simple apology in the world a person can open the door to a stronger relationship, but more often that not I'm afraid the words are left unsaid. The result is nothing short of tragic, a splintered or broken relationship. The great irony of the situation is that only two words would have set the stage for redemption. The same two words that can be so meaningless in more serious situations.

I mentioned Sarah Darling in this post, if don't know her music, you should find her.     http://sarahdarling.com

 

I'm brand new to blogging, but I think I would like to discuss a few things that matter to me.
For starters What about the end of the play off hopes for the Atlanta Braves? I  was completely devastated by the way our season ended. After watching or listening to at least 140 games a year you can't help but become emotionally invested in the team, and to watch them crumble in September... What a let down.  We should still be playing.
I was recently talking to a dear friend of mine who told me that baseball is to slow, is no fun, and just hates the game. I guess, I can understand that point of view, however, I was still a little taken aback. I tried to explain that the beauty of the game is the investment it takes to love a team, but its often the case with me that the right words don't come when I'm with people I care about. Even in the off season baseball fans craves any information a beat reporter can dig up. Any rumor on a trade or a free agent signing can make or break your day. Then spring training starts. Whats the cliche "hope springs eternal"?  I can't think other day like opening day; the hope, optimism, the pride. Its a wonderful thing
Then by the end of September how many time have you watched, with so much pride, your hero wall off, or strike out, or complete the save? Nothing else I can think of can deliver such a full range of the human condition. I reckon maybe, people today don't think they have the time to devote to witnessing such triumph and failure.
Any way, the Brave's season is done. I'll sit around until pitchers and catchers report around Valentines day to see what we do with Lowe, Heyward, and Prado. Can't hardly wait.