DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR CHILDREN ARE?

Recently, I started thinking about all the changes that televisions have undergone in my lifetime. When I was a kid, a TV set was tiny compared to the room size ones we have today and initially, the television shows were all in black and white. Imagine that? We had to imagine what the colors were! Finally owning a color TV was like manna from heaven.

Getting the display on screen just right was sometimes a little tricky. Besides the picture rolling at times and having to be adjusted, someone would have to "play" with the rabbit ears to position them in just the right spot to get the best picture possible while someone else strategically positioned would bark out "a little more that way..." If the reception still sucked, many people would wrap bow-like pieces of tinfoil on the ends of the rabbit ears hoping for some magic result. I still have a pair of rabbit ears poked away in a closet just in case of a zombie apocalypse or an alien invasion. Now, all I need to do is stock up on food and weapons...oh yeah, and lots of tin foil for the rabbit ears and to make tin foil hats.

Keep in mind, when I was a kid we only had 3 networks...ABC, CBS and NBC. Nowadays, we have hundreds of channels, but many times people complain that they can't find anything to watch. Hey, if you can't find anything on the television, there's Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime and a slew of other options. Three channels and guess what? I don't remember anyone ever complaining that they couldn't find something to watch except when the channels would sign off late at night. Insomniacs were S.O.L in those days! I don't remember exactly what time sign off was. I know on the weekends we would stay up and watch monster movies on Weird (a local program hosted by Eddie Driscoll) and Outer Limits, but I don't remember exactly when the broadcast "flatline" would occur.

One thing that I always thought was funny was when the ominous question, "It's 10 PM. Do you know where your children are?" was asked every night. I don't remember exactly when or why that stopped. Can you imagine if that was asked on television nowadays?  Today's youth would roll their eyes and say something horribly disrespectful. Back in the day, we might get away with an occasional eyeroll, but most of us knew better than to tell our parents to "fuck off "

Also can you imagine having to walk to the television in order to change the channel? How undignified is that? Parents claimed that's what having children were for...that and doing dishes or any other menial household chores that they had grown weary of doing. They claimed it taught us responsibility. I'll have to ponder that one another few decades! The only thing the convenience of having a remote control has done is to enable us to become lazier and less motivated. Channel surfing wasn't done back in the Stone Age because having three channels didn't require much surfing. One! Two! Three! Presto! You're back to the beginning.

I just looked at the first picture I posted and two things immediately jumped out at me...my mother should have been horse-whipped for cutting my hair short and perming it (what the hell was she thinking) and she had horrible taste in décor. I guess I could look at it like this...I was fashion forward! I wore an afro long before they were in style and her decorating style was eclectic. Phew! That takes the sting completely out of looking at that picture.

The Box

I don't exactly remember how old I was when I decorated the inside of the box transforming it from being an ordinary cardboard box that housed a new refrigerator into my own little world.  My mother and father had just purchased a new refrigerator and I claimed the empty box as a playhouse.  What kid doesn't like a place to hide away? I remember the box seemed huge inside so given the length of my ever-growing, lanky legs, I couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 years old at the most. 

I worked diligently on coloring and drawing all over the inside of the box while leaving the outside deceptively plain.  I invited my friends one by one to visit me inside the box.  Everyone seemed thoroughly impressed by the wonderland I had created and they put their own mark on it as well by drawing a little something on the wall.  Because the box was too large to stay inside the house, my mother made me keep it beside the house in an area of the yard that the separated my house from my cousin's house. 

Each day I would race outside to check on my box and each day it was still there untouched.  And then it happened!  One morning I raced outside after eating breakfast and it had rained sometime in the night.  It never even entered my mind that it might rain and what rain would do to cardboard. When I tried to crawl inside the box, it collapsed on me.  It probably was a funny sight to see a huge cardboard box with a set of skinny legs sticking out of it, but I was crushed.  

My cousin, Debbie who was sitting on her stairs laughed hysterically at me.  I kept thinking that she's laughing at me because I hadn't invited her inside the box.  The longer she laughed the more it hurt my feelings. The more it hurt my feelings, the angrier I got. Finally, I accepted my refuge was gone forever and I stomped back to my house breathing fire as I went.  All I could hear was laughter resonating in my ears as my anger quietly boiled over.  When I went to shut the kitchen door, I slammed it as hard as I could. When I did that, I put my hand and arm through a pane of glass. 

I immediately had a "uh oh" moment when I looked down and saw glass all over the place.  I knew I was going to get in big trouble for it.  I hated my mother yelling and so did the whole neighborhood.  I knew this little fiasco was going to stir her wrath.  It seemed like in those days everything stirred her wrath. There was no way I'd catch a break and she'd just let me slide.  She didn't let anything slide!  Maybe a miracle would happen and  I would become deaf so I wouldn't have to hear her yell. The odd thing about it  was that I was completely oblivious to the fact that my hand and arm was bleeding from getting cut on the broken glass as I pulled my arm back through the pane of glass.  While I bled, all that seemed to concern me was having my mother yell at me, having to face my cousin, Debbie again and being embarrassed from having the whole neighborhood know what stupid thing I had done as my mother announced it to everyone. Her voice sometimes hit a fever pitch like she was yelling through a megaphone at a football game. I feared that this was going to be one of those times. 

It wasn't until my mother came running to see what all the commotion was and her bellowing, "What in hell have you done, Karen?" (an understatement, no doubt or maybe just a forecast of my misadventures that lie ahead) that I realized I had been physically hurt.  All my pain until then was emotional. She attended to my cuts first which weren't too bad before cleaning up the mess I had made. The bandages on my arm made my injuries look a lot worse than what they really were.  My wounds didn't require a trip to the doctor or stitches, but the gauze bandages that decorated my right arm was a constant reminder of what a dumbass I had been. I still invoked laughter each time I saw my cousin for days after that.  Each time she laughed at me, it hurt to be laughed at, but each time she laughed, I got a little tougher until it didn't matter anymore.  I may not have found a way to turn off my hearing, but I certainly found a way to turn my heart off so it would stop hurting.  Growing thick skin at an early age was a Godsend to me! 

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Here's a few flowers I’ve painted in the past...it’s been awhile since I’ve picked up a paintbrush. It’s been awhile since I’ve been anything other than an empty vessel. I’d like to paint and write, but I think I may need a kick in the keister or some other kind of attitude adjustment or a muse to inspire me. I never named my paintings. I just numbered them...how unimaginative of me!

LEBRON JAMES, EAT YOUR HEART OUT!

Once in awhile a true Kodak moment happens,  but unfortunately, more often than not the moment ends without a photo being taken. Now, in the age of cell phones being readily available, well-documented unexpected Kodak moments are on the rise everywhere. But in a time before cell phones, way back in the dark ages one such moment has always stuck in my mind and I ask myself where was my camera when I needed it the most.

I accompanied a friend to her doctor appointment one beautiful sunny summer day because she needed moral support. Her doctor was going to take a sample of what he thought were and outbreak of genital herpes. Remember this was back in the dark ages before genital herpes had reached epidemic proportions. I'm sure now a doctor can simply have a look see and correctly diagnose the dastardly sores. After her appointment, we decided to have lunch at a drive-in restaurant that was famous for their onion rings. Their serving sizes were enormous. Even a small order was enough to feed several people or many squawking seagulls sea chickens. So after sating myself with onion rings I decided to treat the mass of local beggars that had formed in the parking lot as we ate our lunch. Their only desire was to entice the drive-in's patronage to feed them, so one by one I slung the remainder of my onion rings out my car window and one by one each onion ring was happily devoured until it happened...a true Kodak moment! I slung one onion ring out my window and it landed perfectly around a seagull's neck like I was playing a game of ring toss. My friend and I laughed so hard that for a moment she forgot the somber occasion that had brought us to Panama City that afternoon. As the seagull flew away with the onion ring around its neck it was accompanied by many of its friends happily pecking away at its onion ring necklace.

Yesterday another Kodak moment happened. This time I was able to photograph it and no, it didn't involve seagulls or onion rings this time. Because I'm lazy, when I'm in my bedroom and when something needs to be thrown away in the trashcan, I usually toss it across the room and 9 times out of 10 whatever I'm throwing lands directly in the trashcan. This time it involved an empty mini can of Coke, but please don't ask me why I drink these mini cans of Coke. As I performed my most skillful shot, the empty can sailed across the room and landed perfectly balanced on the edge of the open trashcan's lid. If I had tried to do that exact shot a million times over, the result would never happen again like it did yesterday. Fate? Was I holding my mouth the right way? Were the planets in perfect alignment? Was it just a freak accident? Or is this a sign I should try out for The Harlem Globetrotters?

MY MOTLEY CREW

This is an example of what an older sister will coax her younger brothers into doing.  Now, that they're all adults, I wonder if she still commands that kind of power over them. What a motley looking bunch of rugrats they were, but I'm proud to announce that they have improved with age...somewhat! lol

Daniel (the older of the two) looks like a mini version of The Terminator gone wrong and Matthew (bless his little pea pickin' heart) has that bag lady look going on. I'm sure this was a result of them being bored. I guess I should have let them play more video games and watch television more than I allowed. What an awful, horrid mother I was because I made them read books and play outside.

Sex and the Red Sox

2018 World Series Champions - Boston Red Sox

Way back in 2005 (when blogging was still in its infancy) as part of a lost bet, I was "instructed" to compare the Boston Red Sox to sex and then post it on my blog for all to see. Here’s what I came up with:

Men claim there's no such thing as bad sex. They claim sometimes sex is just better than other times. If that's the truth, it works that way with the Red Sox and their various seasons as well! A Red Sox season might start out with incredible chemistry and endless possibilities, but all too often turns limp and impotent after the seventh inning stretch or during September when giving it your all really counts. But sometimes on a good day when the moon is in the seventh house and the Jupiter is aligned with Mars, a season gets burnt into the Red Sox Nation’s collective memory. When that happens, all other memories pale in comparison. I've got to admit win or lose, like sex, ALL Red Sox baseball is good, but winning is great.

Maybe it's that arrogant cockiness of knowing something great is about to happen that makes a fan breathless in anticipation of what comes next. As with any memorable interlude that starts out with maybe a look across a room and ends with a night of fiery passion with someone you just can't seem to get enough of, the Red Sox command the same type of passion with its fans. The whisper of a sweet nothing between lovers translates into "I don't believe in curses" and ends with doing the impossible. Oh My God! The Red Sox started an explosive orgasm felt worldwide by winning the 2004 World Series.

So we, the Red Sox Nation act like puppies in search of yummies. Year after year the fans have been subjected to unsatisfying quickies and performance anxiety. We continually hear what seems like, “not tonight honey, I have a headache” yet year after year we remain hopeful. We remain faithful. We chose monogamy over "playing the field" when going elsewhere for satisfaction would have been easier and much less frustrating. We keep hoping that hanging in there long enough the Red Sox might stumble onto the right combination of moves so a real explosion will occur. As with sex, so goes baseball...the chemistry has to be there and every step, every move has to be taken in unison and when the climax finally occurs, the game is won and the fans go wild in the stands and in the bars and in the streets everywhere across the nation.

I remember the first moment I knew the Red Sox were going all the way. The Yankees gave the Red Sox that memorable ass-kicking in their own house during the 3rd game of the 2004 ALCS, but the Sox came back to beat them in Game 4. That was when I knew! I felt the fire! I told everyone, but no one believed me. Most people laughed, but I knew that they had finally blossomed and was ready to be deflowered. While I believed, most of the world thought the Yankees would be the team once again going to the World Series. Everyone loved pointing out that the Red Sox would peter out like a frustrated old man with erectile dysfunction who never quite goes the distance. Those doubters were wrong! The Red Sox beat their nemesis, the New York Yankees and as I watched the last minutes of game 4 of the World Series against the St. Louis Cardinals, I held my breath...I couldn't breathe...I wouldn't breathe! My son looked at me as I started to turn blue and told me to breathe or else I'd pass out, but I hear oxygen loss heightens the climax! Ha! Could it be possible that the Red Sox would sweep the St. Louis Cardinals?

How could I explain to him the moment at hand was a moment I had waited my entire life to witness and to feel? A moment I had truly thought I may never see happen, but there it was happening right before my eyes. While other teams have moments like this often and their fans cheer them on, The Red Sox waited EIGHTY SIX years to have a gushing multiple orgasmic moment that not only rocked the world, but made people everywhere (even the Chicago Cubs) believe anything is possible. I hate to sound greedy, but 86 years to remain celibate is a little much for anyone! But once their virginity was lost, the Red Sox learned to play like champions and win like the champions we all knew they could be! Then 9 years later with not one, but two World Series under their belts, once again the Red Sox Nation was hungry. We all lusted for more as the Red Sox once again played the Cardinals and once again the Red Sox got the job done and left a smile on every face of the Red Sox Nation.

Now, on October 28, 2018, the Red Sox went all the way once again and every person who resides in the Red Sox Nations knows without any doubt win or lose, we will still love the Red Sox tomorrow and forever and always. Congratulations to the 2018 World Champions on another job well done! You guys continue to rock my world and I hope I'll be able to repost this many more times in the future!

SERIOUSLY?

Coming home from picking up a prescription tonight I saw this in my neighborhood. I think someone has absolutely lost their mind.

These are NOT Halloween decorations! If you look carefully you'll see more decoration on the fence they don't have turned on yet. I think this must be a work in progress. What I should have done was gotten out of the car and started singing Christmas carols. Perhaps if I could sing, I would have done exactly that.

Mother Nature Can Be A Real Bitch

I always joke around and say I live on the Redneck Riviera, but for anyone who has never visited this part of Florida let me give you a better picture of what it's like. First, we boast having the world's whitest beaches. PERIOD! From Pensacola to Apalachicola life consists of a variety of paces from slow to slower within each quaint community. Most of the beaches aren't wall to wall people unless that's what you're into and then there's spots that cater to that sort of thing. Just ask anyone where spring breakers go and they'll point you to some crowds or ask where the hot spots are for vacationing. On the other hand, there's some beaches along the Redneck Riviera you can walk for miles and never see another person. That's serenity at its finest...sun, surf and the sweet smell of the Gulf of Mexico.

The further East you go, the small communities that are tucked in between the larger ones are nothing more than spectacular. One such community owns a large part of my heart. When I was 30, I moved to Port St Joe, Florida and then moved to St. Joe Beach soon after and worked at the Driftwood Inn on Mexico Beach. It was the only motel I had ever seen that didn't have phones in the rooms. At first, I didn't get it, but then slowly as I saw the stressed out businessmen and their families come to Mexico Beach and leave ready to go back to work, I finally got it. Not long after I started working at the Driftwood, I worked my way into the position of general manager. It was then, I really saw how much people really appreciated the solitude of Mexico Beach. It always surprised me at how generous so many of the people were upon checking out. Those people would always thank me and give me a tip for making their stay at the Driftwood exactly what they needed.

Long after I moved back to Pensacola, the Driftwood and Mexico Beach continued to grow, yet it never lost its quaintness. No high rises, no fast food restaurants, no large grocery store chains and no Walmarts...in fact, to get all of that you had to drive about 20 miles into Panama City to the west or about 15 miles into Port Saint Joe to the East (as far as I know St. Joe still doesn't have a Walmart). At the time I lived there, the only convenience store was on St Joe Beach.  I'm fairly certain over the years it hasn't change too much. The community is largely an "artsy" place to live and features annual art, wine and photography festivals. A large part of what has shaped Mexico Beach are the Wood family, owners of the Driftwood Inn who are very accomplished artists in their own right.

It makes me sick every time I think of the destruction Hurricane Michael unleashed upon an area of the world with such pristine beaches. My heart goes out to anyone who lost their home and/or business. I hope each person has the courage to rebuild and come together as a community to restore the Pre-Hurricane Michael tranquility and well-being they had just a few days ago.

I'd like to share pictures of Florida's Northern Gulf Coast that I know and love starting with Pensacola Beach and ending with Apalachicola.

Pensacola Beach, Florida

Fort Walton Beach/Destin, Florida

Panama City Beach, Florida

Mexico Beach, Florida

Port St, Joe/Cape San Blas/Indian Pass, Florida

Apalachicola and St. George Island

Mexico Beach, Florida after Hurricane Michael