General George Washington, Sixteenth President of our Country

In the past, my Blogs have run the gambit from depressed, to angry and more recently, with this newer Blog Spot, leaning more towards the educational or at least attempting to make you think a little. I've always incorporated a more broad vocabulary because I know there are some that read my Blogs who use their extensive vocabulary for much more than colloquial conversation. Others, I'm sure, either used a dictionary or Googled a word or two. I will say right here that there is nothing wrong with having to look up a word! Please don't leave me hateful comments about educational levels of my readership. I happen to be one who must look up a word two or three times a week. I enjoy doing so, in point of fact. I understand, by doing so, that I am learning. I love to learn about new things. I pride myself on knowing little known or forgotten points in history or knowing things about Science or Technology of which my peers may not be aware.

For example:

How many holidays do we celebrate on the wrong day in this country? Did any of you mention July 4^th, a. k. a./The Fourth Of July, a. k. a./Independence Day? What is the correct day our independence was declared? What is the correct title of what we call "The Declaration Of Independence"? How many people signed it and on what dates? Did they all sit down together in a room to sign it as it is assumed in an historical painting by John Trumbull?

First. The aforementioned painting is often referred to as a depiction of the signing of the Declaration Of Independence.  I'm sure if you ask any child and most adults about what is depicted in this huge oil painting almost all will say, "It depicts the signing of The Declaration Of Independence."  It depicts instead, The presentation of said document to the Second Continental Congress. Now that some of you have learned that much.....

Second. Independence Day is not July 4, 1776. Our Independence Day is actually July 2, 1776. It is true! The draft of the document was what made Congress decide to declare independence from England and they did so on July 2, 1776, a full month after discussions to do so began. After the document had been drafted and Congress had ratified it and declared our independence, the text of the document was adopted two days later on July 4^th.

Lastly. The document was signed by John Hancock (one of numerous Presidents before George Washington), President of the Second Continental Congress on July 4, 1776. The rest of the fifty-six signatures were not scribed until August 2, 1776 after the final draft had been scribed. President Hancock signed the final draft as well. (One signature did not make the famous parchment until November 4^th of that year.)  President Hancock's signature was written so large because the King of England had sworn a warrant for the arrest of Hancock and many others and President Hancock wanted the King and others to be able to read his signature without spectacles (glasses). You have to admire the man's gumption! I wonder if I would have been so bold were I in his place.

It may be noted here that there were a total of fifteen Presidencies prior to General George Washington being elected as the President of our country, recently renamed “The Thirteen Colonies Of The United States”. In short, The United States. “Of America” was added later. Therefore though Washington was not the first President of our Country, he was the first President elected by our newly renamed country called the United States Of America. You may be asking yourself, “Who was our Country's first President?” My advice to you is Google it.  I did thinking there were only three Presidents before Washington and found I was wrong.

I hope you've enjoyed these two little pieces of trivia which are part of our Country's history. There are many other historical events that are no longer taught in our schools so it is up to each and every one of us to research, learn and teach others about different subjects. History, Science, proper English Grammar and many more subjects could be preserved if we take it upon ourselves as individual contributors to society to pass the knowledge down to future generations. In this way, we won't have to worry whether our children are being taught everything they need be taught.  Maybe next time I'll talk about who first proposed the possibility of Black Holes.  (It Wasn't Einstein.)

Elderly Anamneses and The Tale Of The Broken Bow

Ever notice how, as you get older, time seems to become needed less and less. Time appears to take on new meaning when you reach fifty years of age. The years of personal history with all its triumphs and failures seem to blur and sometimes get pulled into the black hole located deep within the brain. There are multiple advantages to this stage of memory loss.

My Lady and I oft times giggle about never struggling to find something to watch on the television. It doesn't matter that we may have seen a given program or movie fifteen times because it usually has been forgotten and we enjoy viewing it anew each time. I would hate to have guests or children in the house now because I'm sure they would be complaining about having to watch the same things over and over again.

Another neat little thing about elderly memory recession is never worrying about subject matter for conversations. I must have told some stories a hundred or more times. The beauty of it in our household is all the repeated stories are always new! You see? There are advantages to getting old and losing some of that unimportant short-term memory.

It fascinates me that some things done years ago stick with you no matter what. Many of those memories just happen to be the ones you'd like to forget and have all your buddies who were witnesses to those things forget them as well. For example. I had been a rather good Archer for a number of years with both Right and Left-Handed bows. I was most comfortable with Re-curve Bows because I'd confidently used them for many years without issue or incident. My buddies had finally talked me into purchasing a new-fangled Compound Bow. I bought a used one because I didn't want to sink a lot of money into something that I might wind up not liking at all. I had worked on the new/used bow for several days. Lubricating, tightening here and there, adjusting and drawing this complicated tool of modern archery. I finally began to practice with it with target tips roughly aimed in the general direction of the target affixed to the hay bale twenty yards from a tree root used as a line in the ground. I'd loose an arrow and watch for the fletching to stop indicating the arrow had struck its mark. Another adjustment or thirty to the sight posts and I was becoming quite accurate with my new toy. With the sun lingering low on the horizon, I packed arrows and bow away to pull out and play another day. (Make a rhyme every time!)

It so happened that one of my buddies called and asked me to come over to his house to fling some arrows downrange, as he called it, the next day. I piled my bow and extra arrows and tips next to the door so I wouldn't forget them in the morning. I then laid down to try and sleep but couldn't for thinking about how I was going to surprise my friends the next day.

The sun finally began to slip through the blinds and onto my closed eye lids which told me it was time to get the coffee brewing. I showered and hurriedly dressed in my finest Real Tree Cammo outfit, grabbed my archery gear and headed off to Wayne's house. As expected, I pulled into the driveway to chants of “Re-Curve Man!” They all loved giving me a hard time about my older technology bows. I just smiled as I got out of my pick up, reached into the bed and grabbed the bow case and a large quiver stuffed full of my best arrows. I went over to a table and laid everything out and began to prepare for the target practice. Out came the Compound Bow and the hoots and hollers started! “It's about God-damned time you decided to get with the rest of the world!”, Wayne chided. I just smiled back at him.

It was finally time to nock arrows and ceremoniously loose the first ones in unison which was our custom. All three arrows made purchase deep within our individual, hay bale backed targets nearly simultaneously. I reached for another arrow to nock and noticed Wayne was staring at me and then to my centered 'Bull's-Eye' downrange. I could tell he wanted to say something smart but he held his tongue as I raised the bow. Just as I reached full draw, I heard a loud crack then rapidly found myself wrapped in bow-string with one of the broken bow limbs swaying dangerously close to my left eye.

I stood there, shocked and perplexed for what must have been a minute or two still in my full draw position. I was brought back to reality as the sound of unbridled laughter began to make its way forward into my consciousness. Back to myself once more, I took a series of tiny little steps to turn around still maintaining my full draw stance. Once I had turned enough to face my truck, I used similar baby steps to carry myself back to the safety of said truck. I finally started the arduous chore of untangling myself from, what seemed at the time, miles of bow string.

Both my buddies laughed for more than an hour. Neither of them were able to loose another arrow the rest of the morning. All they could bring themselves to do was imitate what they had witnessed during my equipment failure and start laughing all over again. Of course they had to tell everyone they saw just what had happened to me on that fateful morning. As a result of their retelling and reenacting "The Tale Of The Broken Bow", as they had named it, I still get ribbed for the incident to this day! I wish this event could be wiped clean from every person's mind who witnessed it or has heard the tale. God love 'em! The bastards!

The Moral Of The Story? No matter how many things you forget as you grow older, your surviving friends will still be telling your most embarrassing story to as many people who will listen. Since they suffer the same memory issues as you do, they'll tell it over and over and over and over and over and....

Chicken Eggs, Eye-Boogers And A Bull's Ass

Some time ago I came to the conclusion that I am, in point of fact, beginning to get older. I was born in 1958 and by my mathematical calculations (using today's math) this dates me to somewhere between seventeen and nineteen years of age. That's my story and I'll stick to it as long as you let me use contemporary mathematics. Using the math I grew up with I am, however, in actuality more than half-a-century old. Now. That may seem like old to some but to those of us this old and older, it ain't old at all. Younger folk would do well to actually look up from their phones, tablets, and computer games and strike up some conversation with us Old Geezers. With all our years of living has come a tremendous amount of knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge and wisdom which seems to be in short supply these days. Most all the young, whipper-snappers of today lack much understanding which comes from, you guessed it, knowledge and wisdom! Go figure! So. The next time you ask a question of a young-un, you'll understand the reason for the deer-in-the-headlights stare.

This brings me to a quandary. How do we as naturally inquisitive adults attain understanding? Through study. That's how! You don't have to only study books. You must decide to study written texts as well as a life-long, in-depth study of the world and your immediate environment. For example: Several years ago, I was preparing breakfast and was removing several eggs, one-by-one from the refrigerator to lay out to cook. As I moved the eggs from one spot to another, I studied the shape of each egg. They were each slightly different in one way or another but were all “egg-shaped”. I began to ponder about the definitive shape and how eggs came to be shaped thus. After some considerable contemplation as I enjoyed the last remnants of my fried eggs and grits, I decided to see what I may find on the aforementioned subject on the internet. Keep in mind that I am a city boy, born and raised in Greenville, South Carolina and never spent any time on or near a farm. That made me rather uneducated in regards what others might deem common knowledge.

Following a few key strokes on the computer, I found a web-site dealing with nothing but Chicken Trivia hosted by none other than The Georgia Tech Extension Service.  The best part was they had an actual Contact E-Mail Address!  I excitedly went about composing an e-mail explaining my citified upbringing and my pondering over breakfast about how those eggshells got their shape.  In other words, which freakin' "end" of the egg comes out of the chicken first?  I checked my In-box everyday for over two weeks before finally receiving a response from the contact person at Georgia Tech's Extension Service about my Chicken Trivia question.  I opened the message and began to read. “Dear Mr. Davis,....”, it began, “....You are truly one of the World's greatest thinkers!....”  I wasn't sure but I thought I detected some level of sarcasm in the opening statement therein. He continued on to explain just how the chicken eggs got their shape and it then made total sense to me. It was akin to a harsh “Duh!” moment.   No matter the sarcasm interlaced into the response, I learned something that day. I learned because I was curious enough to ask the question.  I never have claimed to be the smartest person on the planet and took the ribbing as part of the learning process.

Here's another example of how I gain understanding from knowledge and wisdom. I was on a hunting trip many years ago on a ranch in Wyoming. I was hunting Pronghorn Antelope. After a rather long morning of trying to figure out the running patterns of the game, I had become hungry and decided to park low into a draw and eat my lunch. As I sat there munching on some cheese crackers and Penrose Sausages and drinking coffee, I noticed a rather large, longhorn bull had come over the rise to keep an eye on me. I kept an eye on him as I made sure I had a quick way to escape should he decide to charge. The bull became relaxed enough to let his attention drift to something else moving on the prairie and he had  turned completely away from me. I sat there sipping coffee watching the bull. I studied his movements and admired his lean, muscular appearance. He swatted his tail to one side then the other to shoo the flies away and that's when it hit me. I've never understood just how my brain worked but there it was just as obvious as could be! A bull's ass is made of beef!

One more thing for you to consider. You awake in the morning and at some point scrape the crusty junk from the inside corners of both eyes. Usually this occurs while sitting in your car at a traffic light as the person in the lane next to you is watching to see what you do with it. Come on! You know this has happened to you! At some point later on in the day, you notice that your eyes feel “funny” and you again put a finger into each eye's inside corner. This time what you find is that soft bulb of off-white, sticky matter I refer to as Eye-Boogers. Most of us will just roll the Eye-Booger between our index finger and thumb rather than wiping it onto a tissue or (Eewe!) licking it off with our tongues. Here comes the conundrum. For those of us who roll it around betwixt digits, where the hell does that Eye-Booger go? It just seems to disappear! Is there an Eye-Booger Faerie that comes and snatches it away from us before we wipe it underneath the car seat or worse, on our pants? I believe what must happen to the Eye-Booger is that the friction of rolling it around causes a disturbance in the magnetic flux of the element, Unobtainium which initiates a linear phase shift in its mass resulting in faster-than-light-speed transfer from one membrane to another effectually causing what a number of scientist have dubbed 'The Big Bang'. I came up with this theory while under the influence of the chemical compound, 3, 4, 5-Trimethoxybenzeneethanamine (C11H17NO3). Awe. Come on, Young-uns! I bet a lot of you are wishing you'd paid attention in Chemistry!  It's another one of those "Knowledge + Wisdom = Understanding" things!

Toodles until next week!

Technology, Neighbors and Fresh Milk

I've had a rather busy week and have struggled with subject matter for this week's Blog. I'm tired of the Political Races. You'll know who won by the time you read this any way. I'm outright fed up with the lack of respect for our troops by some individuals. Sorely upset am I with the way other countries perceive us much because of our politician's actions over the years and our apparent inability to search for the truth about the things we do to other countries. I still believe I live in the best country in the world. I just don't have to love the way some things are handled within our borders and overseas. (Time to get off my Soap-Box here.) I've wondered whether to rant and complain about family feuds or my health difficulties. After much thought, I finally decided on a few topics for this week.

Technology! What the hell is going on with the technological advances these days. I used to be able to keep up with new stuff but have found that I'm squarely behind the eight-ball these days on much of the new technology of today. I've discovered that I can no longer impress my associates with trivia about new things coming out soon. I'm often met with resounding retorts about several other new things that are already on the market to which I was not privy. I always tried to keep just ahead of new technology but have found it seems to advance years in just a month. I still remember the days when it took roughly thirty to fifty Key-Strokes to boot a computer. Back then, the only operating system was the Programmer's Language called DOS. Frozen pine sap flowed faster than those first computers could resolve a single, simple mathematical problem. Now? The processors of today are so much faster. And the memory capacity! It makes those early computers look like something from the dark ages. Wait! I suppose you could say they were in the dark ages of computing back then! My phone has more memory and is decidedly faster than my first computer and my phone is five years old!

Neighbors! These are the folks who live nearby. You know? In that house next door, the one across the street and other locations near your house. These are the folks who used to visit us and that we used to visit when I was growing up. We all knew each other and usually had no more than two sore heads or ass-holes who lived in the neighborhood that everyone hated. We never used to grace them with a friendly wave but would turn our noses up if they looked at us. What happened? It seems no one ever knows all their neighbors anymore. We peer at them through the narrow slits in our blinds and wonder what they're up to instead of going over to introduce ourselves and invite them over for coffee or a Bar-B-Que. We live close to them so why don't we know them? Has our trust and faith in Humanity fallen so low or is it that we just cannot bare to miss our TV shows once in a while? Your friends cannot make it into Syndication like your TV Programs are likely to do. When the friends (neighbors) are gone, they're just gone.

Fresh milk! There's nothing like going down to the local dairy and purchasing a quart or a gallon of fresh milk then turning up the container to get a big old swig of contents without shaking it up first! If you're my age or older or have poured a glass of fresh milk in recent years, you know what I'm talking about. The layer of thick, delicious cream that rests on top of the milk! To use some text talk phrases, OMG! That is SFG! The first of the liquid that is poured out of the container with some milk chocolate sauce stirred into it is like silky, chocolate heaven on the pallet. I miss the milk bottles with the paper or foil caps pressed around the mouth of the bottle because all the milk back then had that wonderful layer of cream which every child and every adult craved and often fought over (at least in our house). It's getting harder to find milk with cream on it these days. If you pass by a dairy with a retail store in it someday, stop in and grab a pint of fresh milk. Shake it up then try to just sip it! I think you'll find that you'll turn it up and you won't be able to stop until the last drop is gone. Then you'll go back for another. All this talk of fresh milk has gotten me in the mood for a tall, cold glass of chocolate milk made with fresh milk from the Happy Cow Dairy just down the road from us. You can bet I'm going to pour that milk without shaking the container up first. Mmmmmm!

Lazy Bones, Sparing The Rod and Respect For Your Elders

I spent some time reflecting on my younger days a few days ago and was amazed at some of the things that struck me. The first thing that washed over me was a longing for the a simpler time where kids could go around terrorizing the neighborhood without the parents worrying about them getting into too much trouble or being abducted. The reason parents didn't worry about such things so much is they all knew most of the neighbors and their kids and would watch out for them when they were playing nearby. What happened? I remember several of the neighbors actually coming out to say something to me or even pop my butt if I did something wrong and they saw it.

They would always drag me into their house to call my parents or walk me back to my house and tell my Mother or my Daddy what I was doing and whether I got my butt busted for it yet. If any one of the neighbors did this, you could expect another spanking before you even got through your own door very far. My parents never complained about a neighbor spanking me much less thought about suing them. I never would talk back to an adult who was punishing me for fear of making it worse. As I recall, the spankings never really hurt too much with the exception of hurting my feelings. Several swats to my posterior always kept me out of trouble for at least three or four days. I know there are those of you who are appalled at the thought of an adult spanking a child. Remember. It was a different time. Nowadays you can't lay a hand on your kids even if you wanted to. The child might call the State on you if you do or someone might witness the spanking and make the call. Most laws are so loosely written as to not allow a parent to correct a child with corporal punishment such as a swat to the butt. Don't misunderstand what I'm eluding to here. I do not believe, in any way, in physically abusing a child. I do believe, however, that a swift swat to the behind is certainly an attention grabber to a child to let them know what they did or said is not acceptable. I suppose it goes back to the Spare-The-Rod mentality of my parents heyday.

That thought grew into another. When did children loose their respect for elders? Was I on the road singing somewhere and missed the loss of respect for adults by children? I pondered if it could have been the result of technology or was it that all the adults just stopped caring? Maybe it was the technological growth that caused all the disrespect children now exude towards their elders. I remember having a remote control for our television in our house in the early sixties. I know that some of you already knew when remote controls hit the market and some of you just “Googled” it. While the first remote for television, introduced by Zenith Radio Corporation was a wired remote nicknamed 'Lazy Bones' (because it was shaped like a cartoon dog bone), most households couldn't afford one. It wasn't until the Mid-Sixties when a remote control tuner or television set slowly began to ease down in price into the average household's affordable range. My parents were fortunate enough to have their first remote around 1961. I believe that was when my Daddy initially realized he could pop me on the back of the head and tell me to go adjust the volume or change the channel. (Oddly enough for some of you trivia buffs out there, television had reached less than half the world in 1961 and there are still countries today where TV is not available. Tell that to your teenagers and enjoy that look of horror and disbelief spread across their faces. While they're distracted by their thoughts about no TV, pop them on the back of the head and tell them to go clean their rooms. Good luck with that.) I guess the first remote control TV we actually had was purchased in the early Seventies and it was a Color TV! It sure made my life a lot easier. No longer did I get slapped in the back of the head and told to go change the channel. Any time I got smacked back there afterward was referred to as the 'Dumb-Ass' slap. It was used mainly to remind me to respect my elders. At nearly fifty-five years young, I still duck when my Dad reaches behind me for something. Go figure!

Sheep, X-Boxes and Red-Shifted Stars

The following is a post I made to my Facebook account many months ago.  I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed reading it again.

I began watching a movie on TV this morning titled, "The Story Lady", starring, Jessica Tandy. As I watched, Mrs. Tandy began to read a childrens' story on a Public Access Cable Television show and I remembered reading this along with many other stories as a child and later reading them to my boys when they were young. My mind began to drift back to the days when I was a scrapping young boy running headlong into the world ahead of me. I recalled how fascinating it was back then to find a trail of ants meandering through the bright green carpet of fresh grass in the spring and searching for their home hidden beneath the leaf of one of the weeds growing there. Once the pile of dirt was discovered it became to me a volcano erupting and the ants the flow of lava. I'd always have to find where the lava was flowing to and would follow the ants trail back the other direction. Sometimes it would lead to a piece of candy that I or one of my fellow young adventurers had dropped one day earlier in the week. I'd sometimes never find their destination and would find another interesting thing which took my mind off of the ants as they worked.

A thing struck deep to my core as I was recalling my youthful, imaginative days. I had watched my future Grandchildren playing a so-called Dance Game on their game machine recently. Oh! It's a nice one. The kind that sees your motions and puts YOU into the game. I observed with wonder as they would move their hands in a deliberate 'waving' motion to change things with the menu. I began to get very bored with the "game" very quickly after the technological aspect of the game system's limitations were realized. I stood there mesmerized! Not with the game or the system but with the children! They were imitating what they saw on the screen to get points. No use of their minds at all. It's as if they became hypnotized to all the motion, sound and colors coming from the system. It's as if the game was calling after them to "Just follow me"!

We have, through our busy work schedules and activities in places like Facebook, become a Nation of sheep! Our children are taught more and more to be a follower or a (God! I hate this term!) "Team Player"! They are taught to follow and not to lead. Following is something for the weak and for those who can't think for themselves. They neglect homework and even school to play games and chat with their "friends" on MySpace or Facebook. Hell! Most kids even have phones with internet access and have games loaded on the phones. Why do parents no longer engage their children at early ages. My parents worked and I had chores, homework and guitar practice to keep me busy. I still had time to find new adventures out in the yard or in the woods across the street. Many of my contemporaries enjoy playing computer games. I have tried to play games many times before on the computer or with game systems but I always get very bored very quickly with them. I suppose it's because I'm not a sheep. I'd rather spend my energies using my imagination to help me come up with ways of doing things or to write songs or to make something or.........you get the picture.

I still enjoy going outside to stand and look around if nothing else. I watched a young Praying Mantis the other day for at least an hour. I was enthralled with this natural born killer. While studying him, I imagined what would happen if a slower moving moth might light near him. I could actually see the attack and subsequent meal that would surely follow in my mind. When out at night, I always look up to the stars. I can stand there naming to myself all the constellations that I remember and try to determine which of the lights up there is planet or star. I'll identify whether a star is red or blue shifted as best I can without the aid of a telescope or other instrumentation. My mind always wanders to what might exist out there. I picture what other strange worlds might look like. It's not because I'm old and can't move around well. I stay still and observe because it always leads to my imagination kicking in and taking me places I'll never be able to go and helps me dream up new things that maybe, just maybe no one else has come up with yet.

I'm glad I was brought up NOT to be a sheep but to be a leader. A thinker brought up to know how the imagination can work miracles! How it can make you be anyone or anything you choose. How it can make you travel to the other side of the world, the solar system, the universe and more without leaving the comfort of your recliner. Sheep are dumb and that's why they follow and need direction. Thinkers find a direction where the trail seems impassible or nonexistent. Here's some food for thought. Where would this world be now if folks like Aristotle, Newton, Da Vinci, Columbus, Beethoven, Renoir, Elvis, Einstein, Herbert, Hawking and so many others be if they all grew up with an X-Box Live? Kinda sends a chill up your spine, Huh?

Freebird, Lightening Bolts and a Forty-Four Magnum

Getting older is both a blessing and a curse. I have been cursed with some not-so-good health issues this last year. Just like “....the Bastards....” I refuse to let them get me down. On the other hand, the blessings are many!

Think about it. As you get older, you can make your child's life a living hell. When my Stepdaughter from the second marriage was waiting on her first date to pick her up, I readied myself for the meeting. I had every large hunting knife unsheathed and placed within my reach on the couch. I also had every firearm within reach as well. My Ruger, Super Redhawk, .44 Magnum, fitted with a 2-to-1 Leopold scope was ready and on the coffee table. I had been cleaning it and awaited the arrival of the boy to complete the cleaning as I spoke with him. Six rounds of rather large, impressive looking .44 Mag cartridges were near the revolver cleaning area. The doorbell rang! Time for my plan to unfold.

I opened the door to find a young man of very slight build and less than normal stature for his age. He introduced his self then I shook his hand and deliberately did not give him my name. I simply turned around without saying a word and sat down on the couch in the middle of all my guns and knives. I looked up to find he'd stepped into the apartment only far enough to see that I was surrounded by as many weapons as he'd seen in his lifetime outside a sporting goods store. I just waved my hand towards a recliner without uttering a sound. He quickly took the seat he was offered and began to speak nervously about how he was happy to finally meet me and how much he liked my Stepdaughter and how he planned on treating her with respect and on, and on, and on! I lifted my hand with a single outstretched finger. He immediately stopped speaking in the middle of a word. I picked up the Super Redhawk and polished on it's stainless steel surface for just a second then began placing the cartridges into the cylinder slowly and deliberately. His eyes were as big as dinner plates and I noticed he was holding his breath. I finished loading the revolver and looked up at him as I closed the cylinder into the frame of the massive gun. As the cylinder clicked into place, I said my first words to him since he arrived. I asked, “Now. What time did you say you were going to have her back home?” Long story short. He brought her home an hour and a half early and never called her back. I love it when a plan comes together!

Another incident occurred while I resided in Cheyenne, Wyoming. My two boys were out for a summer visit and we were walking around the Downtown area doing some shopping. There are a couple of intersections which are nearly impossible to cross certain times of the day and we were standing at the crosswalk of one during the lunch rush-hour. Between turning cars and others running red lights, we had been standing there for three traffic light cycles (Red-yellow-green) when I got too impatient and told them to follow me. The light turned yellow and I just stumbled onto the street walking with a pronounced “spastic” gate and posture. I could hear screeching tires the whole time I walked across the busy intersection. I got to the other side safely and without a scratch and turned around to find my boys had walked to the corner diagonally from me and would not acknowledge me calling out to them. I miss those days of embarrassing them at every turn! What fun it was!

I anticipate this upcoming Christmas Shopping Season with baited breath. One of the things I have found to occupy myself with in the mall is finding the Santa Photo area. I like to camp out there. Not because I'm a Perv but because it can be fun to ruin a parent's afternoon. Hear me out. There are ages when babies' dispositions and toddlers' moods may be altered with minimal effort. You know those ages if you've raised more than one child yourself. I like to find one of these children and take a stance directly behind the parent and photographer. I like to get the child's attention and begin acting like I'm starting to cry. The child will always notice this (I don't know why) and begin to make the dreaded crying pout. The parent and the photographer always compound it by getting louder when this begins and the variance of their vocal timbre inevitably pushes the child over the edge into a crying fit that cannot be easily halted. I love it! It may be noted here that my Fiancee says that I'll be struck with a lightening bolt directly in the top of the head one day for all the things I do. R-i-i-i-i-i-i-g-h-t!

Another one of the things I find amusing is riding by large gatherings with the windows down. As I near the crowd of people, I begin to blow the horn and start shouting “John!” or “David!” or “Amy!” over and over as I wave emphatically at the crowd. If you're lucky someone in the crowd will wave back at you and wonder who it was that was waving at them for at least the next week. If not, at least they'll all be wondering just who the hell you were for quite a while.

For all the men reading this there are some things you might want to try the next time you find yourself shopping with the family. If you have a teenager that is giving you grief, tell them quite loudly so that everyone nearby hears it that if they don't settle down and leave you alone, you'll pick them up and throw them over your shoulder and carry them around the store. As soon as they make some comment then turn around, ambush them and throw them over your shoulder and start walking. Be sure to hold on tight as they may try to get away from you. They'll behave the next time you're with them in the store.

Have you ever “lost” your spouse while shopping? You know? You gravitated towards Sporting Goods, Tools or Electronics while she shopped for a new brazier. You were done listing things on your Wish List and tried to find her where you left her only to find she'd wandered off. You then decided to send her a text asking her where she was to which she never answered. When you find yourself in this circumstance, do this. Start running up and down every isle yelling to the top of your lungs this one, simple word. “MOM!” When she finds you, as loudly as you can, tell her you're going outside, getting into your pickup truck, smoke a joint and finish your beer.  As soon as you finish the word "beer", take a good, deep breath, lean right up into her face and begin singing Freebird as loudly and as off-key as possible. Don't be surprised if she tells you she'll catch a ride home. Either way. You're free to leave and go to your favorite bar or hospital, depending whether she knocks the hell out of you with the new iron skillet she picked up to buy. Are you getting all this?

Another thing that's really fun to do is sit or stand very still and look very sad somewhere near a heavily trafficked area. When someone sits or stands next to you and begins to talk to you, look up at them as shocked as you can. When they notice your expression, tentatively whisper to them with a shocked stutter, “Y-You can s-s-see m-me?”. If they answer you, run away from them as quickly as you can. This one's always a winner while waiting on someone at the airport! Be on the lookout for plain-clothes security or men in white coats if you do.

I realize these types of things are a far cry from the old, “Do you have Prince Albert in a can?” prank phone calls that were popular in my very early years. The point is as you get older, people tend to cut you more slack and overlook the things you do for which a younger man might get arrested. I still get a chuckle when I see the picture of the old lady in a rocker, smoking a joint and flipping the photographer off! I enjoy these times of unbridled, uninhibited freedom. I've worked hard for them. If you're like me, over half-a-century old and crazy as Hell, never miss an opportunity to try and make someone think or laugh. Both thinking and laughing are good for people these days. Even you!

Until next time.

Toodles!

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A new post every Wednesday before 6:00 AM, beginning October 17, 2012!

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Until then,

Toodles!

Post Script:  You can learn more about me by going here:
Lance E. Davis on ReverbNation