He Knows My Name

Let me tell you about one of the big thrills in life. It is when, for the first time, your grandson looks you in the eye and says your name!

Today, Eli looked right at me and said, "Pappy", as only he can say it.

I melted. He is so cool, he didn't spit on the ground or anything after saying it. First time events are always pretty cool.

I am not too celebratory; if this is even a word. I swear that should I believe in organized religion, I would have to be a Jehovah's Witness. I say this because what little I know about this cult is that they do not celebrate things. I am not a big celebrator. I enjoy my moments of success, but I am not a big rah rah guy. I just get happy, and usually no-one knows it but me.

And I (and maybe everyone) have a camera type thing in my brain that freezes time for certain memories. Images get frozen and it seems I can always bring back those moments.

On deck in Chicago right before my first hit in little league (I swear I saw it happen while on deck and just went out and it happened - line drive over the shortstop) { and a side note, I was a nine year old in the Majors, and the pitcher was a giant bad-ass from the neighborhood, maybe THIS is what taught me not to be too celebratory - he would have KICKED MY ASS had I made any arm pump or rah rah action; and big kids DID kick little kid's ass in my part of South Chicago}

A certain moment of innocent greeting in the Cascade Junior High library.

Seeing my seventh inning pinch hit go through the six-hole against Mt Rainier's fire ball pitcher, Zimmerman, to drive in the tying run in front of a packed house at the old wooden White Center Stadium in a game won to secure Evergreen's NPSL Championship in 1971.

Every home run I ever hit, that one second bliss and feel of the swing.

A pre-sunset moment on a ball field in Auburn a week before a teammate died in a small airplane crash.

Looking face to face with Melissa 9/16/77

Kelsey's legs appearing kicking after she came out the wrong way

Peter's home run at Shorewood, the afternoon after I purchased a special cigar for him at lunch

I got more and will share them as the times arise.

1968, Part of History

I lived in downtown Memphis from 1967 to 1969. If you know me, if you know Memphis, if you know history and if you can read between the lines you know that I was a young white boy living in a black community. I was one lonely outsider.

We lived in Coast Guard Housing on the banks of the Mississippi. These grounds; ala Elvis's house too, are now a museum; Elvis's house is a Elvis museum, mine is a wrougth iron metal museum, but a museum nonetheless. As were the times we were bussed to an all white school in the suburbs. Again making me one lonely outsider.

In my neighborhood, I was a ghost, a boy who showed up on the playground and no where else. At school I was a ghost, a boy who showed up at school and no where else. Perhaps this is where the vigor to which I applied myself to after school sports came from, better to join the team and go through grueling practices than to go home to ghost land.

I was a sixth grader in 1968. It was spring. It was April. Memphis was in the midst of a garbage strike. The garbage strike was more about race than it was wages. Garbage men were black men and black men were undeserving of a living wage in Memphis, in 1968. In 1968 the man who delivered our newspapers was older than my father and would tip his hat to me, say "paperboy" and hand me the paper and avert his eyes.

I was a ghost on the playground on the day Martin Luther King was gunned down. Playing basketball with the neighbor hood kids. It was not time to come home, but my brother came by anyway to tell me to come home. I argued regarding the time and my brother kept repeating the order to come home and seemed to have developed a weird twitch as he spoke causing his eyes to behave erratically and his head to bob towards our house. I obeyed and went home to the news. We spent the night cooped in our house, an armed Coast Guard watch on our grounds as we watched our black and white TV and the world explode in Detroit, LA and other "urban" areas across America. Memphis, with the presence of Martin Luther King's non-violent supporters was calm.

Experiencing this event was horrible and Memphis was a horrible place to experience this event. To this day the discussion of the event horrified me in relation to the openness of selected white opinion as to why, how come and what the assassination should and would mean. Mature men who held positions of power over me lost much respect in my young eyes as they spoke their minds and opinions as to what had just happened. Perhaps this is where my hesitancy to place trust in those in power positions was seeded.

Why I Read; Ain't This an Amazing Passage?

Every now and then I read something that just knocks me over. I am currently reading David Copperfield. It is an amazing book. This Dickens guy sure seems to be able to capture just what old time England was like, almost like he was living back then. It is a wonderful book.

I came across this passage yesterday and just thought, wow. Here it is:

"The man who reviews his own life, as I do mine, in going on here from page to page, had need to have been a good man indeed, if he would be spared the sharp consciousness of many talents neglected, many opportunities wasted, many erratic and perverted feelings constantly at war within his breast, and defeating him. I do not hold one natural gift, I dare say, that I have not abused. My meaning simply is, that whatever I have tried to do in life, I have tried with all my heart to do well; that whatever I have devoted myself to, I have devoted myself to completely; that in great aims and in small, I have always been thoroughly in earnest. I have never believed it possible that any natural or improved ability can claim immunity from the companionship of the steady, plain, hard-working qualities,and hope to gain its end. There is no such thing as such fulfilment on this earth. Some happy talent, and some fortunate opportunity, may form the two sides of the ladder on which some men mount, but the rounds of the ladder must be made of stuff to stand wear and tear; and there is no substitute for thorough-going, ardent, and sincere earnestness. Never to put one hand to anything on which I could not throw my whole self; and never to affect depreciation of our work, whatever it was; I find, now, to have been my golden rules."

White Kids Who Keep Their Nose Clean

I am not giving up on the dreams I had for Obama’s presidency and all the groovy things that could be accomplished with him in office and Democrat majorities in the House and Senate. But I am coming to the realization that it is not going to be as easy as I was hoping.

What is happening? Health Care Reform (but do not forget, it is just plain wonderful that we have got this far and have at least got this; see my earlier post) has been diluted. Approval ratings are dropping. There seems to be more substance from the negative “harrumphs” coming from the corners.

What is to blame:

Republicans. Fat Cats, Greedy Money Grubbing Republicans.

How do they do it? How do they continue to make people think that their way is best? How do they continue to make people think their way is plausible? Why do ordinary people fall under their spell and play into their hands?

Here is my theory, and it is not pretty and woe to you who see your face in this mirror. And yes this is where I rant, and this is where I probably lose a lot of people; and this is why people think I am strange, crazy and perhaps a little scary.

World Wide Domination or a least King of my Town:
There is a certain type of person who is insatiable for power. They want everything, or a least way more than everyone else. They want to be King. They want to be pampered. And to be “King” in their eyes they need to have riches, riches so vast that they will never want for money again. They need riches so vast that their children will never want for money again. And they want to be kept away from the scurvy mass.

Currently these people have learned that this is not possible under their former monarchy models that got them into trouble before; think of pre French Revolution, think of Russia prior to the Bolshevik Revolution. They have come to realize that they cannot leave SO many people behind. They have to “share” just a little bit more than ole King Louie.

Invention of the Middle Class
To get around this entire “revolution” mess the Rich and Greedy realized that they have to do a better job of spreading the wealth. They needed a bigger buffer zone between themselves and the have nots. Stung by the mistake of “Let them eat Cake” the rich and greedy finally caved in a realized that bread for the masses (or at least the protective masses) was not a bad idea. Reluctantly they decided that could let “them” eat bread as long as they got the cake. Selective sharing became a means of buying off the masses and solidifying their power.

The Fight for the Middle Class
Since its invention there has been a fight for this middle class. Sensitive and caring people lobby this group to open their eyes to the plight of the downtrodden. The rich and greedy urge the middle to look away, tell the middle that “this is America, anyone can rise to your level”, admonish the downtrodden for not trying hard enough and scaring the middle class with “hey, play ball or that could be YOU”

Perhaps the best manipulator of this group in our past history was Ronald Reagan. He sold this group the ludicrous theory of “trickle down”, i.e. we have to be filthy rich to have money to filter down to you peons. And he also knew how to scare this group, as noted in his famous “are you better off now than you were four years ago” speech.

This fight rages on an on. Abuse the middle too much, and Democrats get elected, after Democrats get elected the Fat Cats start courting the middle again until they get their power back and start skimming again.

Which Brings us Right Back to What’s Happening Now Folks
George Bush blew it BIG TIME. Falling just shy of ole King Louie and his sidekick Marie he so pissed off the middle that they ran him out on a rail. Even the Fat Cats abandoned him; for their own safety. Obama and the Democrats were voted in and started to do what they said they would and guess what happened.

The Republicans started to play the middle card. Reagan’s words are starting to be trumpeted. Money is drying up. Socialism is being used as a scare word.

Here is my off center observation to tie this all together and make me seem crazy.

Other Blogs
Yes other blogs. My daughters have blogs. I love reading them. It is great to see my grandchildren and see what is going on. And their blogs link to other logs. Their friends all have blogs. And I can see stranger’s blogs simply by choosing the “see next blog” function.

And all these blogs seem to be 30 year olds with children. 30 year olds white people with budding families just starting out. They are starting to acquire material possessions. They are starting to think about protecting their families. They are starting to worry about the future.

These are 30 year old white kids who have kept their noses clean. Have done the right things, paid attention in school, shown respect to elders, worked hard and done whatever they can to please the man. And now the man is starting to “own” them. They have it nice, they look down and think “how do the downtrodden get by”.

And they hear the Fat Cat Republican subtext whispering in their ears –

“Those people are not like YOU. Those are the people who are Lazy. See what happens when you are lazy. See what happens when you do not play ball.”

“Don’t I take good care of you? You have a health plan. You are provided for. Wouldn’t be a shame if THE SYSTEM broke down and you were forced to live like ‘them’”.


And then the Middle looks longingly at the bread they have, ignores the Fat Cat’s cake and prays that they do not fall in with the Downtrodden.