The internet.. its the right thing to do...

The dogs woke me up far too early this morning. The coffee is brewing and people are sleeping. I began my day with a check of email and reading status updates on social networking sites. That, in turn, led me to pondering human interaction as I stared out of the window.

So I decided to ramble while the coffee brews...

I'm a bit of a whore when it comes to facebook. You invite me to something, I will click attend. You want me to become a fan of something, I will click like. You send me a friend request and I will confirm. The only thing I do not do there are the games.

Twitter, I don't really care for that much. I would rather just write something out than try to decipher a hidden code to unlock life's secrets... Besides, I'm southern and long winded.. What self respecting southerner can live at only 140 characters per turn? It takes me that many spaces to just to get warmed up. As I was recently reminded, "It takes a long winded southerner all day to tell you what you already know.."

Myspace? What is that?

The internet as a whole is a great thing, a free flowing platform of ideas ready to be exchanged, discussed and dissected at any time. With a wireless hand held device, any moron can appear intelligent by googling any topic.

In the past few years I have read more while staring at this monitor than I have while holding books. Budgets of every government office have been picked over, blogs on everything from wood carving to how to cook human brains have been read, I've watched shuttle launches and the death of the Gulf of Mexico live as they happened.

I have even been graced by the words of the pastor of the westboro baptist church, a loving little man by all accounts...

Attacking each other on extremely personal levels seems to be alive and well, showing no signs of slowing in the near future. I'm still baffled that decades of technical advances and research went into all of this, and owl gore worked so hard, so that people can insult someone because of what they wore last night when they went out to eat, or that ugly people at walmart can be looked at for sport. Viagra is for sale by everyone and porn seems to be the breakfast of champions.

I have been attacked. My wife, children, home, pets, ideological ideas, appearance, extended family, friends, car, artwork, hobbies, sexual orientation, geographical location, and shoes have all been slandered, made fun of and abused by people. I have had several death threats and promises of pain when I least expect it. Meh, bring it on meth head.

After all of this, my latest favorite thing to do has been interacting with people in Europe. It has been interesting to see the way we, as Americans, are perceived overseas. When debating with people from other countries you learn quickly that the conversations are far more interesting and less abusive than when you are treating with people from the United States. Not that Europeans are more accepting, or intelligent.. They can simply hold out longer than we can before they start hurling insults toward you. French people are a bit strange though...

So what do we do with this ability to gather and share information at the speed of light? How do we utilize it to its full capacity? Do we soapbox our ideas until we fall over, blue in the face from shouting at the screen? Do we attack people we are jealous or afraid of? Do we think nothing more than getting our "brand" out there to further ourselves? Do we try to better the world with common sense ideas about peace and freedom? ( i like this one) or do we simply use this thing to show off an unholy talent for writing? (she makes me laugh)

One day maybe we'll figure all this out...

But right now, the coffee is ready so I'm going to make a cup and then go over to watch midget tossing on youtube...

Oil in the Gulf of Mexico

I'm disgusted.

There are thousands of gallons of oil pouring into the Gulf of Mexico at this very second. BP has even set up a feed so you can watch it as it happens, click here to see the utter destruction of the gulf coast, live for your viewing pleasure...

It reminds me of the television commercial where all the people are standing around watching in horror as the tap on the sink continues to flow until a guy walks by and turns it off. BP is spending five hundred million dollars to study the impact its having on the region.

I have a slightly more pragmatic suggestion on how to spend that money.

Go back about twenty feet from the break and insert a high pressure turn off valve into the line.. Then CLOSE it. Carl-Henric Svanberg should be made aware by any one of his countless minions that they can pick one up from these guys for a reasonable price.

Meanwhile it is business as usual in all the responsible offices. Everyone is pointing fingers at everyone else from BP to Halliburton while the government, and that would be all levels of government from local to state to federal, both parties included, are all looking around in fake anger as they continue to take money from these complete asshats so that when something like this happens they will do exactly what they are doing right now, which is nothing.

The current administration is "talking tough" and thinking of fines for the clean up... Well damn... government monkeys talking about collecting more money, now that is a shocker.

Everyone on the internet is doing their usual thing, bashing whomever they hate from teabaggers to obama to giant evil corporations while convinced that their voices are beyond reproach.

Some people are actually convinced that this is sabotage, a well planned plot to grow the power of the government... You know, much like the events of Sept. 11th 2001... I made the rounds from all the news sites to many different blogs and the topics of the rabid teabagging public are in full swing, the socialism of our current president is a huge discussion point, "Faux" news is currently in the running for the moniker of anti-christ, there's plenty of name calling going on out there in the void of the internet... but then that's what people do best, and the cult of celebrity is alive and well indeed....

While they talk, point fingers, and piss and moan about everyone's shortcomings, and use this to make money... The gulf is dying.

Ask yourself what would happen if a hurricane hit the gulf right about now? Do people not realize that the gulf stream will carry this ever growing mess all along Florida and up the east coast? Do people not realize that this could wipe out all of the fishing grounds, destroy ecological systems in total, and define ruination for everyone?

BUT....

What are we doing? Well... we are using this as a sounding board to attack Sarah Palin, President Obama, BP executives, etc, etc... In other words people are using it to gain exposure and make money.

Making fun of people who are all for offshore drilling is pretty common place now. More government regulations are whats needed.. even though the very office that's in control of that is so deep in bed with all of the companies that actually do offshore drilling its hard to tell where one conglomerate ends and the other begins.. Let alone the fact that just miles from this oil well are wells owned by many other countries that do not fall into any category being regulated by our government...

I thought about this new attitude the government has about getting America back to work and what all Roosevelt did with his plans for much the same thing. What would he do if he were president now I wonder? He would've set up government loans for people who wanted to open factories to build solar and wind units to place on peoples homes for the cost of hundreds of dollars, not thousands... He would've had the navy on site to see what they could do about it, he would've called on the people of this nation to pray about it, then asked them to donate what they could in time, effort and money to help stop this disaster.

But then, people aren't that way anymore.

Today's society doesn't give a shit about any of that. What they give a damn about is whats hot on the latest television program, getting to the restaurant before it gets crowded, or whats cooking in the way of adultery on their favorite social networking site. Even the politically active among us are doing little more than arguing ridiculous points.. If it can't be fixed from a keyboard, then fuck it...

Its about time someone called a spade a damn spade.

Every system in place involving government is a broken down mess of bureaucratic bullshit designed to do nothing more than take money from the very people they claim to govern. I do mean every system. Federal education departments are so ass backwards and befuddled that their books cant even be audited and they continue to literally lose millions of dollars each year. The military is ordering shit at a cost to the tax payers that would make bill gates testicles shrivel to the size of raisins. Washington DC has become a genuine whore of the highest caliber, selling our futures for money that we are forced to give it at the point of a gun.

So some people react to this madness and are attacked as lunatics, some will stay, some will tire of it and go. When you get that feeling that you would like to do something about it and actually attend a political meeting all you are subjected to is a call for more of your fucking money... Even the talking heads that are agendized by everything from ratings to corporate memos can't seem to get it.

There is no voice of truth. People are afraid of being politically incorrect and getting labeled with something negative.

The disaster in the Gulf of Mexico is a perfect illustration of modern society. Money will change hands, chest beating will take place, bullshit will be uncovered, the scope of government control will increase, talking points will be picked up by myrmidons on all sides and beaten to death on every soapbox available, personal gain shall be the order of the day...

All the while, nothing will actually get done.

If you don't believe that, then go to New York and take a good long look at a hole in the ground where thousands of people died and ask yourself why they can't build something there in nine fucking years.

Slingshots and arrows...

It was one of those typical Summer days you experience when you are young. Seems now that the days were much hotter then than they are now. You know the time I'm talking about, before such things as girls came along. The time when magic was still real and ghosts existed, when time seemed to move much slower, you could jam all sorts of adventures into one day, it seemed endless somehow.

The setting was a dead end road of newly built houses in the midst of a Georgia Summer. Sunburns didn't matter and nobody seemed to have air conditioning, windows hung open in useless attempts to catch a breeze, and the best sound one could hope for was the distant music coming from the ice cream truck. The air was alive, that's the only way to put it. The aroma of grass and honeysuckle was so strong you knew exactly what the color green smelled like. The neighborhood held a collection of sweat covered kids that were always game for anything you could think of. We had been hard at it all day, fighting every type of battle you could imagine, against all foes, human and otherwise. The rock fight hadn't ended well...

We were divided into teams and were in ditches on either side of the road throwing rocks at one another, as boys of that age do. All of our attention was put into actually killing each other. At that age we were invincible, there was no thought put into anything, it was just "Come on, let's go." Like the time we built the raft made of logs down at the pond and actually tried to sail it... Never once giving a second thought to the fact that we built the damn thing only yards away from the gigantic whirlpool of the overflow drain (it was the first day outside after a week of nonstop rain), we watched in horror as the raft came apart in the shallow water and the pieces spent the next few hours being beaten around in the suction, where we would've surely ended up if we hadn't jumped off before it got out over the deep part...

There were so many perfect shots thrown during that rock fight, we simply lost count. Head shot after head shot, perfect "right between the shoulder blades" hits when they would spin at the last second, knowing they were too late to dodge. Kids were being knocked all over the damn place, blood flying, tears of rage met with showers of jagged rocks hurled in blind fits... Cussing was done... Cussing the likes of which only twelve year old boys can do... Trust me, sailors don't have a thing on twelve year old boys when it comes to stringing together obscenities.

Like all good things, it had to come to an end. This one ended with a broken piece of brick hurled from my hand with the accuracy and speed of a minor league pitcher. I watched in pride as it took out my brother.. Perfect crack to the top of the head... Feet flying straight up in the air, he went end over end back down into the ditch... We all started our victory cries with that one. Then the free flowing blood started. The wound wasn't really bleeding, as much as it was gushing a steady stream of thick, red, life giving sustenance through his hair and down his face. Like most kids do, he wasn't paying attention until he saw the blood. Then the screaming started and at that very second all of my life long, do or die, stick with me forever, blood brother compatriots ran like hell, leaving me standing there completely alone.

Then the adult came outside...

I was met with pointing fingers and jeers that I took it too far, every situation like this has to have a scapegoat and well, I drew the short straw that day. "Did the rock bounce off the road or hit him directly in the head?" I did what all kids do when in these situations, I lied... "Yeah it bounced off the road, I wasn't aiming for his head..." I was even backed up by the only two people that were still around, the wounded party and the child of the adult.. I mean we all knew you had to lie, if they found out we were really trying to kill each other, we would never be allowed to play again. So after much drama, cold washcloths, a half a bottle of mercurochrome, and a final assessment delivered by my adult cousin that ended with, "I don't think it needs stitches." We sat around for a while until we ventured back outside... On the way out of the door my younger cousin and rock fight teammate grabbed up his latest acquisition... A slingshot with the coolest attachment you could imagine... a small wire that fit on it that allowed you to shoot arrows...

We spent the next couple of hours shooting arrows in small shots around the yard, imagining that when they hit the ground they were piercing the hearts of the foes storming our castle. We kept this up until the rest of the kids from the rock fight felt things were calm enough to venture back over. I still remember how the first couple of guys slinked around, uncertain, until we gave them the go ahead nod and they came back with sly grins and obvious interest in the flying arrows... We sat in a group near the road, taking shots across the yard until the inevitable argument started...

"Well, that thing is cool, but a bow has a lot more power..."
"Bullshit... I could shoot this as far as any bow..."
"Kiss my ass..."
"Watch this.... "

My cousin drew that surgical rubber back as far as his strength allowed, the arrow tip barely resting on the wire guide set in the middle of the sling shot, and fired it.. Damn near straight up... We watched in awe as it sailed into the sky, seeming to have no connection with gravity at all. The arrow finally began its slow arch and started its descent... Coming straight down in the neighbors yard across the street. Where he was out on the riding lawn mower cutting the grass.

Stares of awe and jealousy over such a magnificent shot were slowly replaced by looks of horror as it became clear that the arrow was headed directly for the neighbor as he passed his garden on his riding mower... That arrow was making a light speed, straight down dive directly for the top of that guys head. Time began that slow motion thing it does when faced with such a tragedy. The seconds slowed to a crawl and you could almost hear every one's heart pounding as we watched that thing making its way toward a lengthy prison term for each of us.. The neighbor's son was with us and spoke the only words sounded during that eon of wait... "Hey.. my dad.."

The arrow hit the ground and drove about four inches into the hard packed earth.. about half a foot directly behind the guy... I mean centered perfectly too. If the guy had slowed down, or changed anything at all, he would've died right there in front of us. My cousin jumped to his feet and took off with calls that the guy would surely kill us if he saw the arrow... We watched as he ran faster than any human we had ever seen move. When he reached the arrow he went into a slide that would've made Pete Rose proud. He snatched the arrow from the ground as he slid by it and went right into the rows of vegetables in the garden and didn't move. Our view was of the space between the two houses and as soon as he came to a rest the neighbor drove right by him with that dead eye, mind far away stare you get while cutting grass. The second he passed by, my cousin reappeared from thin air and ran back to us sliding back into place, then we all started that innocent looking around thing as if to say, "What?"

Needless to say, when that was over we sat the slingshot bow to the side and came to the conclusion that it was indeed a dangerous thing. Besides, one of the guys spotted a fresh pile of roadkill way up the street and we needed a new specimen for the lab we had set up in my cousin's basement. Frankenstein was a cool movie, and we were positive we could pull that one off easily....

Stuffed Crab...

I have been going to Savannah since I was in highschool. There is just something about its god awful coastal smell that is intoxicating to me. Regardless of where we are staying, the first thing I have to do is ride down Bay street, then take the Islands expressway to hwy 80 then head out to Tybee island... When I get to the corner of Islands & 80 I always let the window down. The weather doesn't matter, one hundred twenty degrees or forty degrees.. it makes no difference. I have to let that salt marsh stench wash over me in the car. In some strange way it always feels like coming home.

Many trips have been made to that magical place over the years. I fell in love with its voodoo and humid sensuality when I was a young man. I love the beach, yet I'm not a traditional beach bum type of person. I hate heat and humidity. I spend my beach time walking in the water starting around midnight and then end it each morning by watching the sunrise from the end of the pier on Tybee island.

I can not be trusted to actually get on the water with any sort of flotation device. One night, while staying at the ocean plaza, I "borrowed" one of the big canvas floats from the lifeguard station, paddled out and laid back to enjoy the view of the stars... I woke up a while later with a tiny strip of lights off in the distance. Hoping it was in fact the shore line, I began heading in that direction. That's when you get the fear... Every image from jaws & movies of that ilk begins to become amazingly clear and possible in your mind and you know damn well that there is some sort of huge whale, shark, harpy thing right on your ass, making your paddling become more desperate with each passing second... I made it back to shore with no problems, but passed a buoy on the way in... Yes, I had drifted into the shipping lanes... But.. if you have never seen the stars that far out on the ocean at night.. I must say, it was well worth the danger. I was scolded pretty harshly on another trip by a few lifeguards for riding rip tides all day... I can't help it.. when they are strong enough they can carry you way out, but they always bring you right back to shore, you just never know where... But a ride like that is well worth a bit of a walk when you're done.

I've never really had a favorite place to eat there, I pretty much like them all. The crab shack is one of my favorites... The bar at Williams Seafood was another. They were famous for stuffed crab. I always had mixed emotions about eating there, the interior left a bit to be desired, it had a middle school cafeteria feel to it, and there was always a line to get in, I am not a line person. We had taken a trip down several years ago and I was really wanting some good seafood so decided to deal with the line. There was a church youth group ahead of us... The noseeums were out in force, to the point of drawing blood... and screaming babies were well represented.. While standing in line for about an hour, beeper in hand, desperately waiting for the thing to go off and scratching continuously at the noseeums while being serenaded by the youth group (one of them had gone back to their bus for a guitar) I had had enough. I went in to check on seating and the girl said, "About 45 minutes... but if you don't mind you can sit in the bar..." I started screaming at her, "Mind? You crazy teenage bitch! I have been standing in 98 degree, 100% humidity, bug filled air listening to horrible singing and bleeding from bug bites while treated to a toddler constantly pelting me with a balloon sword for the last hour!!! SEAT ME NOW!!!!" but it came out like this: "Sure.. that will be fine.." So we followed her through the place to a little side door and into paradise...

What met us when we walked through the door was a darkened little room with mounted fish on the wall, booths with high backs providing privacy and a little bar at one end with a short, wizened old man the color of a walnut standing behind it.. "Sit anywhere you like.." is what the barman said to us as the hostess tucked tail and vanished... We found a booth, most were empty, and sat down. The second we sat down a flurry of activity ensued... The wait staff attacked us and before we knew what had happened we were holding huge glasses of sweet tea, eating hush-puppies, waiting on food we ordered while enjoying the arctic blast from the air-conditioner as we strained to look out across the room at the other patrons through the dim lighting in the place...

The food arrived.. I had a grilled seafood platter with stuffed crab. Each item on the huge plate was grilled to perfection. Scallops, mahi mahi, shrimp... dear god... When I thought I could no longer take it.. They brought out the stuffed crab.. Now, if you have never had stuffed crab from Williams Seafood, then just forget about it.. you have never had stuffed crab. When the meal was over and we all felt as if we were about to explode we sat in a quiet daze and watched as the locals came and went through the side door. Eventually we were brought into the room's conversation and spent about three hours there listening to tales about Savannah and Tybee.. It was one of the best meals I've ever had. From that point forward, it was about the only place we ever ate there. We would pull up in the parking lot, look over at the line waiting to get in, grin slyly, then step around the side of the building, walk across the little patio, through the double doors and right to a seat... Perfection...

One of the last trips down we were driving past the place when I said, "What.. where... but.. no... dammit... the..." Then I stopped the car dead in the middle of the road.. Williams was gone... I found out later that it had burned down... Damn.. Just damn...

I've made the rounds, I like Mrs Wilkes dining room, I liked the Lady and sons until it developed a three hour wait to get in.. but then such is the price of fame... I wouldn't wait three hours for front row center seats to the second coming... But nothing can compare to the atmosphere and service of the bar at Williams, simply nothing... The Crab Shack is close, the food great.. but it just misses that certain something... Indeed.. the best trip we ever had there we stayed at the Beach and Racquet club... We stayed a week.. The place had a kitchen so we went shopping, my god seafood from the coast is just frightening it is so good.. We cooked our meals and ate in, did one thing each day and spent each night on the beach. We sat on the balcony and watched the freighters come in the international water way and allowed the ocean breeze to wash over us until the sun rose, then went to bed... To spend an early spring day Exploring Bonaventure Cemetery, eat a huge grouper dinner, walk on the beach for hours, then see a sunrise like that. Excellent.

The days I've spent in that city have brought many experiences my way. The nights even more. I made the trip to Beaufort to visit Dr Buzzards grave once and came away a different person. I have walked Bull Street from one end to the other and gone in every home and business that would have me. I've eaten at every restaurant there, taken every tour, walked the old tunnel from the pirates house to out under the streets, and spent many hours in deep conversation with an old black man in a wheelchair down on River Street that made his living playing a saxophone. I got to introduce my son to him on one trip, that was a moving moment. We had talked many years ago about life and family, seeming to pick up the conversation on each trip right where we left off... I always found him when I was waiting on Julie while she visited all the shops. The only one I go to is River Street Sweets for a banana smoothie and box of pralines, (the smoothie isn't on the menu, but they will make you one...) We would sit down by the water around the full rigged ship that always seemed to be docked there. He told me all about the Vietnam war and how he lost his family. He told me about River Street and it's history. I remember him telling me that I was too impatient when I told him I didn't think I would ever have a family... When he met Patrick he winked over Patrick's shoulder to me and mouthed, "I told you so." Yes, I teared up.

I was hanging around the visitors center one night when a guy asked me if I wanted a carriage ride. I said sure and hopped on... We did the usual ride around the historic district, until he was off work. Yet we kept going. I sat on my knees, leaning over his seat as he told me all about Savannah's history. For hours we poked through that city and I learned more than I ever would from any book. He was a retired salesman who worked for his wife's tour company. I was young, maybe nineteen or so and he gave me several names of people to contact that opened many doors around the city for me to hear about its history, that was a good trip. That was before they closed Bonaventure at night and you could walk around there under the live oaks covered with moss and listen to the dead as they told their tales. Those darkened, sandy roads in that place hold more life than many cities I've been in.

Sitting here in Newnan, in front of this keyboard, I have the feeling that it's time to get back down there. James is in need.. He's never seen the ocean, eaten 'baby chicken' fresh from the ocean (that's what Patrick called shrimp on his first trip there, hey.. it worked, he tried it...), walked on cobble stones laid down hundreds of years ago by slaves, both black and Irish, and he needs to see what this region of the country is all about... magic, pure ass magic...

Me? I just need a little voodoo and a damn good stuffed crab...

**the painting i used is by David Boyd Jr. go check his work out**

Fifty two years worth of Mothers Days

My mother was born on the fourth of April in 1935, the youngest of ten children. Her parents were William, known as "Buddy", and Fannie West. My grandmother's maiden name was McGee, so Irish descent was a given... Everyone called my grandfather Buddy, but to all of us he was Pa, to his wife he always known strictly as William. Pa was a farmer when my mother was born, but later on was hired by the county to build bridges. Granny was a homemaker, a stern woman, well known for her soft and tender emotional side (just like mom). They lived on what is now known as Buddy West road. Their house is still there, a subdivision was built next to it a few years ago and the turning lane is cut into the front yard, developers are so nice that way. Every time I drive by there I look at that little yard and think about how vast it was when I was a child and we went over there every Sunday for dinner. Granny never cut her hair, but always wore it tied into a meticulously tight bun. My mother told me that she would take it down and comb it every night and that it "nearly touched the floor." Granny passed away when I was a child in the first or second grade. We came home from school one day and the house was full of people, I wanted my mother, but nobody would let me go see her. My cousin Syble took me and my brother out on the front porch and told us that mom was lying down, then told us that granny had passed away, the look on her face as she told us is one thing I will never forget, one of the tenderest moments in my life. We rode our bikes around the neighborhood for the rest of the day in that strange daze that follows such tragedies.

My mother was christened Trudy Dean West as a baby and set off on a life surrounded by four boys and five other girls. She never went in for anything too girlie and spent her time playing cowboys and indians with all the boys around the house. "We played whatever we saw at the movies on Saturday for that entire week, until we went back the next weekend..." She would get dropped off in town by her dad at a relatives house down near the bridge on Lagrange street and all the kids would walk to the Alamo theater to see a movie, and then spend the rest of the day riding bikes around Newnan until Pa would come by to pick them all up. Mom told me once that one of her favorite times when she was a kid was when the cotton would come in and the barn would be packed with bales of the fluffy white stuff. They would spend countless hours jumping from the loft door into the cotton piled all around before Pa had it shipped off to market.

In school mom played on the basketball team and was a member of the beta club. Sports allowing girls were limited at the time and mom always went in for any sport she could... Every year that she played on the basketball team they went to the state tournament, she is always good at what she does. She has bowled and played golf all of her life. Even after a stroke in recent years she still goes bowling and plays golf. Her vision was damaged by the stroke a bit but as she says, "I can still see the marks on the bowling lane, even if I can't see the pins like I should...." Every year she played on the church softball team, earning her the the moniker "Mama Dean."

They attended Happy Valley Baptist church, also on Buddy West Rd., just as my fathers family did, Buddy and Fannie West were good friends with Doc and Zeddie Perry. Mom's brother William, Uncle "C" to me, was friends with my dad and they ran around together as kids... It was a fateful night when uncle C had a date with Annie Jo, one of moms friends. Annie Jo suggested a double date... Uncle C tapped dad to go with them and my parents were together from then on. They graduated high school in June of 1953 and got married that December. Mom and dad lived on Savannah street in Newnan for a while then lived in an apartment on Madison street until they bought a little house on Martin street where they lived for the next nineteen years, bringing five children into the world. When I was in the second grade they built and moved into the house where mom still lives on Doc Perry road. Mom and dad were married for 54 years until dad passed away a couple of years ago.

Mom worked for Royal Molded Products in Newnan from the get go, she was in charge of inventory control in the office. Royal molded made toilet seats... the sawdust pressed, unpainted toilet seats made good kindling for the fireplace in the winter, and mom would periodically bring home a truckload... I think we were some of the few kids that could actually say, "We had to bust up toilet seats for the fireplace.." when asked what we did over the weekend... We also discovered that they slid great on ice during a huge winter storm when I was a kid...

My mother worked full time, no small feat when you have five children. She hired a woman that helped raise us, Mamie Steagall, an older black woman that couldn't read or write, and didn't know how old she was, she didn't even know when her birthday was.. But she could cook like you wouldn't believe.. Mom would leave in the morning and go pick up Mamie and bring her to the house then head off for work. Each evening she would take Mamie home or to town or wherever it was Mamie needed to go. For years mom paid Mamie half of her salary she made at Royal. When we moved out here to Doc Perry road Mamie was older and had part of a foot removed because of diabetes, but still barked orders to us with her usual gusto. "Ya'll go play outside, my program is coming on.." was a favorite order she gave. Three things about Mamie will stick with me forever, she always had me a glass container of ice water ready in the refrigerator when I got home from school (it was an old coffee cup from the hospital, that now resides in a place of honor in my cabinet), she always put an ice cube in the soup she made us for lunch so it wouldn't be too hot (I think of that every time I see a can of campbells chicken noodle soup), and she made the best fried pies...

My mother has always been the type of person that is active and level headed, a meticulous record keeper. She never has taken much crap from anyone and will simply tell you what you've done wrong and expect you to correct it immediately, yet her heart is as loving as you can get. Several years ago she had chest pains, turned out she had to have a quadruple bypass... They put her in the hospital and then took her to Piedmont in Atlanta for the operation. The worry in my dad's eyes as we waited for hours while she was being operated on sat pretty deep with me, all that time together to be faced with such a crisis, I couldn't imagine. He walked around with her x rays rolled up in his hand and paced the floor nonstop. When she came out of recovery and was asked how she felt she said, "I dreamt about toilet seats, of all the things in the world to dream about..." When she got home she began her recovery almost as soon as she walked in the door... She's always been a fighter. The occasional tearing up here and there is when I knew she was emotional, she's the queen of keeping herself in check. When my father passed away she was standing next to his casket the funeral home and said, "He drove me crazy, but I do love him so, now get up old man and lets just go home..." That was the hardest thing I think I have ever witnessed, but it is a testimony to the amount of love that her heart can hold, five children, and a husband with a love for the unexpected (and huge explosions) could tell on a woman over the years, but with mom, her stoic nature wouldn't allow it to make her waver from what she had to do. She's always encouraged us to do what made us happy and to keep our feet on the ground at the same time.

Growing up there were always people in the house, my brothers and sisters friends when they were in school, our friends when me and my brother were in school. Family and friends on Friday nights playing cards and people over for cookouts almost every weekend for years and years. I've seen her handle guests in all manner, and she never wavered once. She loves a big crowd of people milling around the place, a product, I'm sure, of her childhood. But then, thats what a home is all about... Loud noises, mess, kids playing, scrapes, bruises, and an endless fountain of love...

From the silent eye roll and deep breath she let out as we stood on the porch and looked at the brand new convertible my dad just bought spur of the moment on the way home from work to the pride of a great grandmother as she watches my nephew's son play baseball, she has touched more lives with her ways than I think she realizes. We spent yesterday with her for Mothers Day, and I told my brothers I wanted a picture taken with her... She then ran to town with my wife to get coffee and hit a few stores. While they were gone I sat on the porch and watched my son play in the yard as I thought about the life my mom has lived. She has been surrounded by people that love her, people that count on her, and people she feels deeply for.. I just hope she realizes how much she means to us all. I love you mom, happy Mothers Day...

The Belt road booger

It was one of those days where the sun felt as if it could peel the skin right off of you. I was young, maybe twelve or so, and we had been going all day. All manner of play had been engaged, bicycles, army, plastic army men sets, plinking cans with bb guns, working on the dam down at the creek... Yet nothing would suffice.

There was an uneasiness in the air...

My grandparents were having a barbecue just down the road and we weren't invited. It had been revival week and they were throwing a huge get together for their pastor and their entire church was on hand. I was jealous. These were my grandparents, my barbecue shed, my hickory fire they were shoveling coals out of to smoke the meat... Who were those people going in and out of my grandparents house? Who were all those kids down there playing on my stomping grounds? No sir, I didn't like it... not one bit...

Unfortunately for me and my brother, Daddy Doc (my grandfather) and granny's house was downhill from our place so we got to watch the thing unfold before us. Every game we indulged in throughout the day always seemed to end up with us at the edge of our front yard looking down their with half confused and slightly envious glares at the kids running around in the yard. Car load after car load of the ugliest people you ever saw kept driving by looking all happy... I was getting down right ill. We finally asked my parents if we could go down there, they didn't care so we took off without a second thought. I was uncomfortable... Those kids had no idea that you couldn't go in Daddy Doc's smoke house... why wasn't he getting on to them? There were strange people drinking out of the ancient gray igloo water cooler on his back porch... He kept an old beat up metal dipper hanging next to the kitchen door that you drank out of.. And some of these people were actually using it.. My god.. that was for family... The whole thing wasn't right, it set me off and left me feeling too out of place... After a while I just wandered off wishing it was the fourth of July & everything was right with the world again.... This mess was going to take some fixing.. But dumbass (my brother) knew some of the kids from the church and decided to stay on.

I felt dejected... As evening rolled in and the festivities went on apace I sat at the edge of the yard cussing my brother for having fun and watching all these miscreants eat my damned barbecue. When darkness finally fell they actually started singing down at the barbecue shed, what nerve... That was it, I couldn't take any more of this.. I went and sat on the back deck in the swing and just listened to all those happy voices singing about god, at least from there I had to strain to see it.. When my brother got home I was going to let him have it... Having fun down there with strange people messing everything up... lord god, what was wrong with people?

I went inside and sat around feeling all gruff and began "poking my lip out".... My dad looked at me and said, "Boy, whats wrong with you now?" I just sat in stunned silence... how could he be that dense? I explained what was going on and he looked over the top of his paper at me and said, "Oh good lord..." Which was dad speak for be quiet... So I continued to sit there watching whatever gun smokey type tv program my parents were all into until my brother came home all excited...

He was going a mile a minute and bouncing off the walls jabbering on about some monster he had just seen standing at the dirt road halfway between our house and granny's. A monster? With the mention of a monster all thought of the day's malfeasance slipped away quickly... He would not stop until we walked down there... "It was standing right there by that little pine tree" The 'dirt road' was the original road bed for Doc Perry road, it ran all the way from Macedonia road to Sargent many years ago, but the county came out one summer to "fix it" and drove a tractor over the old bridge on panther creek and the thing fell in on them. They came back and got the tractor, but never fixed the bridge, so everything just grew up and swallowed the road whole... That was ok by us, it gave us an exciting place to play with lots of jagged edges and rusty nails poking out.. Not to mention it was right in the middle of the swamp so was automatically classified as haunted... Everybody needs a haunted place to go play at when you're a kid.

He said that it was as tall as the tree, about five feet or so, and looked like a dog thing, but was standing up on two legs "just looking at me with shiny eyes". Then it "took off running back into the woods"... I wanted to mount an armed safari type hunt right then and there but dad was having no part of it... Dad walked around and looked at the ground with a flashlight and announced after a few minutes of study that whatever was there was gone now... Two things bothered me about that moment, one - dad scrubbed the ground all around there with his foot when he stood up and two - he said "Whats that peculiar odor?" under his breath when he came back over to the road.. We were standing in the middle of the road watching as he investigated the scene, I was ready to hit the woods but he shooed us back up to the house then held a whispered conversation with mom in the kitchen. All this suspicious behavior had our minds racing.. We sat out on the back deck and pondered what it all meant while listening to the woods for any sort of sign that a dog beast was afoot...

For several days after that my brother suffered an endless line of taunting from our older siblings for having seen "big foot." At first he defended it, then he became all sulky and quiet about the entire thing. Then the following Thursday when the local paper came out the excitement started all over again....

"Belt Road Booger spotted"

"Several sightings of a “monster” sighted on Belt Road near the intersection of West Washington Street were reported last week.

“It was dark. It stands about five feet tall. It’s big across the chest. Its eyes look like diamonds at night when you shine a light on them,” was how one local woman described the “monster.”

The creature was reported to have “a face like a monkey and a long bushy tail.”

The Newnan Police Department investigated the incident but found nothing.

The creature was “alleged to have eaten the inside of an apple, leaving only the peeling, and to have bitten a hunk out of an ear of corn.” It was also supposed to have climbed into a barn in the neighborhood, and some local children speculated that he slept in some junked cars in the woods near Belt Road.

The Belt Road Booger was spotted again in the Meadowview subdivision near Arnco, described by one local resident as “the ugliest looking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She described the animal as standing between 4 and 5 feet tall, and it was covered with black hair and a tail “like a beaver’s, but it’s bushy,” with “a face like a dog.”

She said the creature dug into her flowers and tried to kill her caladiums.

Sightings were reported in the following days in the Smokey Road and Ishman Ballard Road areas, and then later at Sargent."

Let me tell you... the word smug doesn't even come close to describing the expression he wore for several weeks after that one... I never did go out there looking around for any signs of the monster... I'm kind of glad I didn't.. I have found a rather odd sense of comfort over the years in imagining a strange set of tracks creeping away from the spot my dad brushed clean leading down to the swamp toward that old bridge...

Speaking of politics...

This weekend we were on the square in Newnan selling our goods and talking to people when we were approached by Kieth Tompkins. Kieth was out pressing the flesh and getting signatures so he could be on the ballot to represent Georgia's 70th district in the General Assembly. He was speaking with the people next to us and we heard much of the conversation. Then he stopped by our booth... the conversation we had inspired me to wax political, its been a few days...

It's no secret that I lean to the right in my political opinions. I believe firmly in three things.

One - a limit of two terms for all elected officials from the local to the state to the federal level. (knee jerk response - "we need experienced people in there")

Two - abolish income taxes and put the fair tax in place. (knee jerk response - "its regressive")

Three - bio fuels. (knee jerk response - "it uses more energy to produce that it turns out")

I am unapologetic in these views and haven't heard a decent argument against any of them. Term limits would get rid of career politicians, the fair tax would unleash the true economic potential of this country, and fuel can be made from algae and kudzu that would run any type of engine. Period... end of debate.

I say I lean to the right because I believe in a small government and a ridiculously strong military. The federal government should be about one tenth of its current size and individual states should fully handle pretty much everything except for a national military. I do not think that things like a national endowment for the arts or a U.S. department of education should exist. I do not think that the federal government should get involved in business and should not charge corporations income taxes. I believe that anyone who has the balls to start a business should be exempt from current taxes in general, because these businesses provide jobs. I believe that any citizen of this country that wants to be armed should have that right freely.

Each one of these points is a post in itself and I have debated them all time and again. The problem with a debate is that its hard to find someone who can discuss these things in a civil manner. I have talked to the farthest right and the farthest left of the political spectrum, and I can say without any fear that the left is much nastier than the right. I can also make this unbelievable statement: The right is much more inclusive than the left.

In regards to what you read on line and see in televised media, the truth of the political situation is a different animal when you are where the rubber meets the road. That is true of pretty much anything in general though.

When you are speaking with a group of people that lean to the right you can carry on a conversation, even when you disagree with them. Most of them speak intelligently about issues and seem to know more details than your average person on the left. Most of the people on the left simply parrot Jon Stewart, who is entertaining yes, but hardly a person to garner your political or current event information from. He is to the left what Limbaugh is to the right - a fount of misinformation. They both provide half truths and work through innuendo. When speaking with a group of left leaning people I can count on getting yelled at and insulted. Yet only when I mention a political party or politician that I agree with. Oddly enough, if you speak only of policies, they tend to agree with what you say. They hardly ever realize you're talking about things that people like Bush, Reagan, or god forbid, Sarah Palin have mentioned and believe in. They just get caught up in the fad and fashion of hurling insults toward these people because that's what all the cool kids on twitter and facebook are doing. (speaking of which, I need to add that map thingy to my social networking accounts so people can see where I'm at all the time.. its so cool... "Clay is taking a shit" with a little google map & orange marker... interesting.. almost as much as where you're at eating dinner with the gang from the office @coolkideateryofchoice...) Fad and fashion... That's where most people reside... knee jerk emotional response is easy & takes no thought, thus on line pissing matches...

We've all seen "teabagger" videos of knuckle draggers who would just as soon slit someones throat as to look at them. Just as we have all seen the videos of people that vote democrat agreeing with Obama's position of completely outlawing abortion. There are total idiots on both sides of the spectrum. There are violent idiots dwelling in these places as well. We hear now about the hideous language being used by people that may insight rednecks and teabaggers to violence, but you just didn't hear too much about the people who hung Bush in effigy or attacked people for having a right leaning bumper sticker on their car... Media, it's all fair and balanced... I live in Georgia.. Georgia is in the dreaded south.. and I have not once heard President Obama referred to with a racial slur... imagine that. You would think that all my friends would stop nailing their sisters while she's cleaning their guns and washing their hoods and sheets long enough to call the man a nigger... but that hasn't happened.. not once.. even in the most vile of the teabagging circles I run in... Most of the long winded, uneducated, southern folk I know simply speak of his policies.. what the hell? According to bill maher , and indeed most popular media, we inbreds down here should all be loading our shotguns and planning a march on Washington while hoarding Budweiser and potted meat for the apocalypse ... Hmmm that fair and balanced view of humanity again...

So I find myself in a bit of a quandary... where do I go for a political home? The democrats and republicans seem awash in the money and power that public office hold. They don't seem to give much of a damn about anything except getting reelected while stockpiling cash, drugs and hookers... or lesbian bondage chicks...

I do not care if gay people get married, I do not care if a woman has an abortion, I do not care if a huge corporation fails, I do not want to hear about a national debt scale and military expense while my tax dollars go to fund a play that hasn't sold a ticket in YEARS or to preserve the first brick structure in a town (yes it is an outhouse) or to study how a fly can land upside down on a ceiling, or to fund a brother in law's construction company's bid on a federal project or etc etc... I am for a line item veto, I do not care if the ten commandments are on a wall, I am for testing teachers so that I don't get a note that says "James says he not feeling to good" from a teacher, it wouldn't bother me if weed or prostitution were legal everywhere, I would rather that people who are trying to kill me because of where I was born were destroyed outright with much malice, I would prefer a military presence on the border since our citizens get fired on by Mexican drug dealers and troops (isn't there some sort of law being broken there?), I do not fear Christians or atheists just zealots and they are plentiful from all sides of every theological or ideological genre...

It does seem that anywhere I go no one is all together on my side... But then when I am speaking to actual people it seems that most folks feel a lot like I do.

I applaud Keith Tompkins for being out there and speaking to people, he took the time to listen, he spoke his mind, he agreed, he disagreed, he was polite.. and interestingly enough... he seemed genuine. We agreed on enough points that come election time, I will vote for him, no problem...

Poplar hiking stick

Poplar-59"- leather wrist strap - $50

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