There's Too Much News!

An old friend of mine said, "I hope that you are reading a GOOD newspaper every day now that you don't work." By this he meant THE NEW YORK TIMES or at least THE WALL STREET JOURNAL. I told him I didn't read a newspaper every day...only on Sunday when I do buy and read THE NEW YORK TIMES. I explained to him that Sunday is a slow news day...nothing traumatic and earth-shaking happens on Sundays...not since Pearl Harbor got attacked in 1941. If any bad stuff happens during the week, by Sunday they are analyzing it and it doesn't seem so bad like it would have been as hard news. There's too much damn news anyway, and it's the same old stuff day after day. Our hometown newspaper even repeats obituaries. When I spend the summer in the mountains of North Carolina, THE NEW YORK TIMES is not readily available even though they own the newspaper in Hendersonville. If you want to be certain of getting a copy on Sunday, you have to sign up at the Harris-Teeter supermarket and they will hold a copy for you. It means driving almost 50 miles roundtrip to get one but reading the Sunday paper is about the only ritual thing I do, so I go every Sunday morning. When I went the last time, I forgot to take my money or my credit cards. The manager that's normally on duty was off and a co-manager was on duty. I explained the situation and figured he could let me take my newspaper and I could pay him the next time I was in town. It seemed like a simple thing to me, but he was having no part of it. Stern faced and non-negotiable. I told him he could see by my records that I always showed up on Sunday and always paid...even bought some groceries from time to time. But he just shook his head in the negative. So I said, "O.K. then. You lend me $5.35. (They charge TAX on the newspapers which I think should be against the law!). He was quick to reply, "I'm not lending you any money." I asked him if he thought I was a bum or something just because I had dried oatmeal on my beard. He said I had oatmeal on my shirt too and that he had seen a lot better looking bums. (I'm not buying my groceries there any more.) When I went outside there was an old, old Knights of Columbus guy collecting money for retarded children. I told him about the situation of not being able to get my NEW YORK TIMES...finally he said, "I'll give you a dollar to get your newspaper." But then I told him it was $5.35. He said, "What kind of newspaper is it anyway?" He obviously doesn't read THE NEW YORK TIMES. He wasn't so interested in giving me $5.35. I suggested perhaps I could take it out of his can of money...he had wads of one dollar bills. But he said, "Oh, no. We can't do that. This is for retarded children." I said, "Hell man, they are retarded. They don't know a one dollar bill from a five dollar bill. Besides, look at this oatmeal on my beard and shirt. I'm retarded myself so you can give me the money directly." He said they had warned him about people trying to hoodwink him. I thought seriously about grabbing the whole can of money and running with it. But somebody in the parking lot would have caught me and I could just hear the co-manager telling the cops, "I knew he was up to no good...came in here trying to get a NEW YORK TIMES without paying. And I think he stole two jelly donuts on the way out." I didn't steal the donuts, but I thought about it.

Remembering the Geranium.

I am profoundly deaf. That means I'm deaf as a rock. I wasn't always. When I lost my hearing it was fairly traumatic. I owned three companies, all in the communications business. So being deaf and being in the communications business was sort of a tough concept to grasp. I struggled to learn to read lips and got pretty good at it. But I didn't venture out into public settings unless I had to. A friend of mine was giving a talk on public relations at a workshop in Boston. I wanted to go, so I signed up and went. The first speaker on the program turned out the lights to give his talk...a slide show. I could see the slides, but I couldn't figure out anything he said since the room was darkened. It was sort of a slap in the face...and it threw me into a instant funk. I left the workshop and went across the street from the hotel where there was a beautiful park. Although it was October, flowers were still in full bloom. I sat there staring at this red geranium that was at its peak. Without thinking, I started talking to the geranium. I told it, "Sure, you're blooming. But winter is almost here, and when it comes you are going to freeze to death. You'll be gone." I got no reply. But as I was watching this fully blooming geranium, I realized that it didn't care if winter was going to take it. It was going to bloom right up to the minute a frosty night would take it. I thought to myself, "Damn. That's what I want to do. I want to be blooming no matter what. I want to be in full bloom even if I am deaf and blind and ninety years old. I think of the red geranium often...and I blossom and grow.

Are You Creative?

Don't say "no"! If you say "no" you will never be creative. We all have creative potential. If you say "yes, I am creative", you WILL BE creative. It's that simple. You've got to believe you are and the creative side of your mind will go into gear. You'll be creative in everything that you do. It's not just about art or music. Creative is a way of living. And when you let the creative side of yourself lead the way, you'll discover who you really are...who you were meant to be.

I"ll Have the General Tso Cat

When I would go visit my cousins in North Carolina, we would often meet at a great little Chinese restuarant. The food was always wonderful. After years of visiting the place, I went to visit and my cousins told me the place had been closed down by the Health Department. It seems they were serving CAT instead of chicken in many of their dishes. What? Is it against the law to eat a cat? My cousins said it was against the law if you called it General Tso's Chicken. False advertising. I don't care what the Health Department said, it was damn good cat.

Up, Up and Away!

A friend of mine has an old cat...handsome guy. He got sick and had to be taken to the vet. She misunderstood what the vet said...she thought he said it would be costly...900,000 dollars. He actually said $900 to a thousand. She's a religious person who believes in "the rapture" so I suggested that it might be time to rapture the cat up to Heaven. But she was quick to tell me that cats cannot be raptured. I couldn't believe she said this...but she insisted that animals cannot be raptured. I was very disappointed and told her that if my favorite dog wasn't going to be in Heaven, wagging his tail to greet me, that I wasn't so sure I wanted to go. What kind of place can Heaven be if you don't have your pets with you. She says it's because dogs and cats can't profess their belief. But my dog was baptized...he baptized himself a couple of times a day in the summer. He did it in a pond down by the golf course. We could always tell when he had baptized himself because he was white normally, but he would come home green. Covered in pond algae. I'm fairly certain he's laying on the floor next to God. Or maybe chasing women.

Stop Bugging God!

I don't know about you, but I think people are on the phone with God way too much... asking for stuff...begging, even. I believe we should be thanking God all the time for whatever we have. Thank you, Jesus! It's o.k. to ask him for blessings...for yourself and for others. But let him decide how he's going to bless you. He's smarter than we are...he'll give us what we need, not necessarily what we want. Amen.

Not So Damn Fast!

I was on the road and stopped at a rest stop. As I walked in, I noticed a sign that said, "Automatic Toilets". It made me nervous to tell you the truth. I imagined some machine yanking down my pants and pushing me down on the toilet seat without even wiping it. So I asked the attendant what the deal was. He said that when you wash your hands, you just put your hands under the faucet and the water comes out automatically. And if you have to go into one of the stalls...when you get up to leave, an electronic eye in the wall knows you have left and it flushes the toilet automatically. I asked him, "You sure there's not somebody in the wall watching me?" He swore it was an electronic eye. With his assurance, I went ahead into the toilet to do my business. I leaned forward slightly to get some toilet paper and the damned toilet flushed violently...it was like a bidet (or what I imagine a bidet would be like!). I yelled, "Wait a damn minute. I'm not finished here." But the eye was quick on the trigger. I know there was somebody in the wall. I heard someone laughing.

What's That In Your Ear, Lady?

I keep seeing these people with gadgets in their ears...they aren't hearing aids. I think they are telephones. But the people sure look silly walking around with these phones in their ears. And so far, none of the people who I've seen wearing them look like they are ever going to receive a call from anybody. I told one woman, "It looks like you lost one of your earrings." She said, "No. This is not an earring. This is a telephone. I can get a call anywhere without having to use my cell phone." They are stupid...and whoever invented them should have a couple implanted in their asses. That's my opinion, and I'm sticking with it.