A day with the Coach....

I don't remember the day in great detail.

I was playing golf on Pinehurst #4, an absolute gem.

The sky was a vivid Carolina blue.

Only fitting, as my playing partner was Dean Smith.

Since the news broke this morning of his passing, I've

been trying to bring him back in my mind.

Here's the big stuff of what I remember of those five

hours we spent together.

He was a competitor, and took great joy in telling me about being

the golf coach at the Air Force Academy.

He was patient. Especially with me, as I was a three putting machine.

He was gracious to all he met, and he met a lot of guys that day.

He had a good sense of humor. (Reference my putting comment)

He did not cuss. I don't remember a single four letter word.

He was first class. All the way.

Rest In Peace, Coach.

The truth in the tooth...

Our grandson Mason lost another tooth the other day.

Our daughter/his Mom posted on Facebook...

"I get the joy of playing Tooth Fairy tonight. Magic."

Yes it is.

Yes it was.

I thought back to maybe 25 years ago.

There was a loose tooth in the house.

We had a "Tooth Fairy" art figure, and as each new day began,

Jessica would find her a little closer to her bedroom.

Eventually, her tooth escaped her mouth and was carefully put in

a little pouch, and placed under her pillow.

In the morning there was money.

The scenario plays out, generation after generation.

And in it's playing out, our kids hopefully realize the magic

we experienced with them.

They should also get a glimpse of the fact that what they

feel for their kids, is what we feel for them.

"Boy, you don't know cold..."

70 years ago today, my Dad turned 27.

I don't think there was any celebration or official observance.

Perhaps his Mom and Dad had a little party of some sort.

Maybe baked him a cake and sang him "Happy Birthday".

He was absent from any festivities at home.

I'm not even sure that he realized it was his own birthday.

He was busy in Europe, trying to not freeze to death

or get shot or blown up.

The Battle Of The Bulge had begun three days prior,

and within a few more days, his unit would be ordered

to turn north and drive towards the little town of

Bastogne, Belgium.

That battle would last well into January, coupled with

the most bitter weather Europe had endured in 50 years.

When I was a kid, I complained about being cold.

"Boy, you don't know cold.", he said.

Five words formed a lifelong lesson.

Happy Birthday, Pop.

I love you.

Daddy/Daughter Time........

32 years ago this morning I was on the air at K92-FM/Roanoke.

Marianne called the hotline at around 8:20am.

"What's goin' on?", I asked cleverly.

"My parents sold their house.", she replied matter of factly.

"Anything else?"

"Oh yeah. My water broke!"

And I was off....

Our daughter Jessica was born at 4:43pm.

When we left the hospital with her the world

looked different.  Because it was.

One new life that would depend on us.

I remember the feeling that I just couldn't wait to hear her

laugh for the very first time.

And there have been many laughs since.

"Do the funny thing at the door!!!", she would squeal at bedtime.

And I would oblige by pretending to hit my head on the wall

or some such nonsensical act.

Teaching her to fish and shoot.

Participating in the Y Princess Program together.

She was "Little Eagle" and I, of course, was "Bald Eagle".

Earning our deputy black belts in Taekwondo together.

Good stuff, those Daddy/Daughter times....

Don't blink.

A Merry Meltdown......

At present, you can't walk in our home. Anywhere.

Because there's Christmas stuff.  Everywhere.

Lights. Ornaments. And every St. Nicknack that we

could unpack.

Sort of a "Christmas Chernobyl".

I do most of the heavy lifting. Carrying the tree inside.

Trying to be gentle as I navigate the attic pulldown steps

with the 57 pound Rubbermaid container full of oh so fragile

somethings Christmasy.

I practice my Yuletide Yoga as I try to twist and turn myself

into position so as to be able to plug in the window candles.

All of the outlets for them reside behind heavy furniture.

But as crazy as things are now, I know that in a few days,

my bride will have everything decorated perfectly.

She has the spirit.

She has the eye.

She has the patience.

Our home will look like something out of "Southern Living"

magazine.

Well, our downstairs will.

51 years ago today......

I was in the 4th grade, and on the playground behind Hilton Elementary

School in Newport News, Virginia. We were learning how to play a game

called "Steal The Bacon".

I remember there was a guy on a ladder painting the backboard of the

basketball goal.

Someone came out and told us that President Kennedy had been shot.

Everything after that is a blur.

My Dad kept all the newspapers. I now have them.

I have been to Dealy Plaza in Dallas. I have been on the infamous

"Grassy Knoll". I have looked from the window that was allegedly

Lee Harvey Oswald's perch inside the Texas School Book Depository.

It is a most surreal place.

The debate between "lone gunman" and "conspiracy" will continue

forever, I suppose.

51 years ago today.

I remember.

Do you?

I can hear memories....

I read something somewhere that our sense of smell

is our most memory inducing sense.  I can see/smell how they came

to that conclusion as anytime I'm in a high school gym I am transported

back to eighth grade and Coach Byrd's class, and trying to figure out how

to properly wear an athletic supporter. Good times.

For me I think it is sound, specifically music.

Last evening I sat in my chair, clicking away on my Mac.

Somehow I wound up on YouTube.  It's never a short visit.

One link suggested another, and I rolled through songs from my

youth.

A Beatles song reminded me of the playground behind my elementary

school, and how the boys would split up in groups of four and pretend

to be the Mop Tops. The girls would chase whoever had dibs on being

Paul or John.  Somehow I was always Ringo.  I was OK with that because

I was most concerned about cooties.

A Chad and Jeremy song reminded me of seeing them on an episode

of the "Dick Van Dyke Show".

A Doobie Brothers song and I was back in Roanoke, Virginia.

Dan Fogelberg and I was on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The old stuff is still fun to listen to, and your subconscious remembers

all the lyrics. (Or at least what you think were the lyrics...)

But... the music takes you somewhere.

And a lot of times, those places are not physical.

They are emotions and feelings.

Joyous. Silly.

Love. Heartbreak.

Carefree. Bulletproof.

Time travel.

Thanks YouTube.

There's something cleansing about dirt....

I love where we live.  A little town outside of Raleigh.

Electricity and runnin' water.  Cable TV and an ice maker.

Our home sits on about an acre.  Close enough to neighbors

to yell for help and be heard, but not close enough to raise

a window, whisper a request to borrow a cup of sugar, and have

a neighbor hand it to you from their driveway.

(Do neighbors even borrow sugar anymore?)

At the end of our street there's a big field.  This past summer

it was full of tobacco.  Now it's all plowed and getting ready

for whatever's next.

I walked up there today. The sun was starting to get lower in

the West, casting shadows in the furrows.

That was some beautiful dirt.

Memories of diggin' in it as a kid flashed in my mind.

Looking for worms, or fashioning foxholes for my toy soldiers.

Throwing dirt clods.  Making mud pies.

Gettin' a little dirty helps us come clean....

A lesson in the leaves...

My favorite color is green.

My favorite colors are Fall.

Marianne and I drove to and from West Virginia this past week.

Going, the leaves were beautiful.

Coming home, they were spectacular.

There was something extra about them this year that struck

a chord within me.

I reflected on the life of leaves.

That little bud in Spring.

With the rain and sun and nutrients from the roots, it flourishes

into its full strength and greenness, allowing it to ride out

the storms of Summer.

But, it is the Fall that brings out its vibrancy.

Fall is when the leaves take your breath away.

Fall is when you feel their power.

Fall is when you appreciate them.

Perhaps we are as leaves.

Sorry, it ain't here yet......

I know, I know.  It's FALL!!!

Nope.

I don't care what the calendar says.

I don't care that the sun is setting a little after 7pm.

I don't care that there's pumpkin spiced stuff everywhere.

I don't care that I even have had to paw through my sock drawer

because my tootsies get chilly in the morning.

It is not Fall until I have mowed the lawn for the last time

in 2014.

When that happens, I'll be happy to celebrate with you

and don a sweatshirt, sip hot chocolate and put the Hawaiian

shirts away.

I'll let you know when that day comes to pass.

Scratch that.

My wife will let me know when that day comes to pass,

and then I'll pass the word on to you.

The Toy Hall Of Fame...

Yep. There's a Toy Hall Of Fame.

It was formed in 1998, which, surprisingly, was 16 years ago and not 6.

This year's nominees are: American Girl Dolls, Bubbles, Fisher Price

Little People, Hess Trucks, Little Green Army Men, My Little Pony,

Operation, Paper Airplane, Pots and Pans, Rubik's Cube, Slip-N-Slide

and the Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles....

Two of them will make the cut.

Some classics that have already been inducted include:

The Stick. In my hands it became a sword or bat, gun or fishing pole.

Etch A Sketch. The "original" laptop. I spent hours making boxes

and staircases, and seconds trying to make a circle before I'd give up.

Play Doh. I close my eyes and I can still smell it.

Frisbee. I owned a number of them, and their life expectancy

depended on my ability to keep them away from nearby roofs

and/or our dog, Lucky.

The Cardboard Box is in there too.  I made tanks and spaceships out of

'em...

Fun stuff.

But it wasn't just about the toy.

It was about imagination and pretending.

Because, after all,without them, a stick's just a...........stick.

Seek and ye shall find........

I was looking for another book when I came across this one.

I opened it and noticed the date that it was presented to me.

51 years ago today.

I had just started the 4th grade.

Life was simple.

Of course, a lot has happened over the years.

School. Career. Marriage. Family.

Joy and tragedy.

Life got more complicated.

Finding this Bible reminded me of my roots.

Both physical and spiritual.

I am so very far from perfect, a sinner in thoughts and deeds.

But this Book has been the foundation for a life I've tried to live.

And I'll keep on trying....

My Pyramid Scheme......

I love how the simplest things can trigger a long forgotten memory.

Today I saw a travel brochure that featured the Egyptian pyramids.

I immediately flashed back to my 6th grade social studies class.

We have a project due and I had decided on making a replica of

a pyramid.  I had crafted the shape of the pyramid from cardboard

and wanted to cover it in the same stuff I had made "salt maps" from for

earlier projects.  Young people these days have zero idea what I'm

talking about when I reference "salt maps".

It was a concoction of salt, flour and water, that when blended

properly, would allow you to fashion topographical features onto

the outline of a map that you had drawn on a piece of plywood.

You used food coloring to denote different features.

Blue for water.  Green for land.

But for the pyramid, I needed brown.

I was at a loss, until my Dad came up with the perfect remedy.

Instead of using water, why not try using coffee?

And so I did.

It gave the mixture a very realistic desert appearance.

I presented my pyramid.

It looked great.

I received an "A" from my teacher.

While I can't prove that I'm a unique case, I can tell you

that I'm the only student that I've ever heard of to get an "A"

because their teacher loved the way a project smelled...

They came in a can......

Younger friends think I'm joking.

But I'm not.

They came in a can.  And they were delivered to our front door.

Potato chips.

What a concept.

I can't tell you the last time an ice cream truck rolled through

our neighborhood.

But I remember those chips.

And the big can they came in.

Back when my metabolism mimicked that of a three week

old gerbil.  On crack.

Remembering........................

Silence is the rule in my mornings.

Easier to focus on the day ahead.  The "To Do's" and the "Might Do's"...

Today was different.  I turned on the TV.

I wanted the tributes and the reminders of that morning 13 years ago.

I watched a while and remembered where I was.

Just like everybody did today.

I knew that I would be emotionally raw.

I was surprised to discover that it wasn't the replays on TV

that hit me the hardest.

It was, as it often is, the little things.

I went to get my flu shot, and at the top of the form I had to fill out

was a space for today's date.

The simple act of writing "9/11" jolted me.  I felt a chill.

I left, and on my way home while sitting at a traffic light,

a biker zoomed in front of me with a big American flag

mounted onboard his Harley.

A little further down the road, a big pickup went by with two Old Glorys

flappin' in the sunshine.

I smiled.

My heart pounded.

And there was something in my eye.

Remembering will do that to you.

Never forget.

Never surrender.

Leaving on a jet plane.........

I jet out tomorrow for Wilmington, Delaware.

I'm headed up there to be part of the team that will conduct

their 4th Annual Radiothon For Nemours/DuPont Children's Hospital.

I'm going because I want to.

I'm going because I need to.

The 19 radiothons that I was a part of for Duke Children's

Hospital revealed to me my passion.  My purpose.

I won't be on the air, but I'll be behind the scenes.

And I am quite OK with that.

Coaching the radio talent, and hopefully getting them to

feel what I always felt when I did them.  Teaching them the

importance of emotion.

There are a lot of stats regarding a children's hospital.

How many beds there are.

How many patients are seen yearly.

How many diapers they go through per month.

Those are the nuts and bolts.

But the heart and soul of a children's hospital are

the stories...

The stories of survival and loss, good news and bad,

and the stories about one of the most important four letter

words I know....

Hope.

Music and memories....

Our home received a new addition this past week.

An RCA Victor Stereo Console.

In the notes my mother in law had written prior to her

passing, she had made her desire known that it was to

come to North Carolina and reside with us.

It has a place of prominence in our den.

Marianne and I each brought music to our marriage.

Albums. Singles. LP's. 45's.

They were resurrected this week.

Songs we hadn't heard in years.

We sang along thanks to our our subconscious, which

had filed away every lyric and guitar lick.

Mountains of memories of people, places and things.

And the emotions tied to each.

To drop a needle on the groove.

To hear the crackle and hiss of a diamond on vinyl.

It's not as much how it sounds to the ear.

It's how it sounds to the heart.

You don't need to be a detective.....

I had lunch today with two of my best baby boomer buddies.

If you had been sitting nearby with your back to us, you would

have immediately pegged us as members of that elite

generation, due to one gigantic clue.

Our topics of conversation.

Within seconds of greeting each other, we seamlessly

slid from "What's up?" to "What hurts?".

Second subject was diet.  What we can eat and what we can't eat.

Third subject was what procedure we just endured and/or

what procedure was coming up.

A strong bond between friends is made even stronger when

sharing what the first thing you said was after you regained consciousness

after a colonoscopy.

We "get" each other.  We support each other.

Iron sharpens iron.

We'll do it again in another month or two.

Pick up right where we left off.

Then probably pick up prescriptions on the way home...

Back To $chool.........

"When did 'Back To School' become big business?".

I asked this aloud as I stood in Staples yesterday to buy

some printer ink.

I was halfway down a line that stretched twenty deep.

And to think, this was even before the kids know exactly

what each class will specifically need.

When I was in school....(Cue the eye rolling from the kids)

I needed a few #2 pencils, some loose leaf notebook paper,

a three ring binder (With "subject dividers" if you wanted to

be all fancy), a protractor and some Bic pens.

We carried our books, stacked on top of one another,

and hooked under our strongest arm, wedged against our

ribs.

 There were zero backpacks.

There were no parades of parents at the beginning and end of

every school day dropping off and picking up kids.

We walked, pedaled our bikes or rode the bus.

My "social media" was television and I was allowed one hour

a night.

Today is different. I'm not saying anything other than that.

And one more question.

When did printer ink become big business?!?!?!?.......

Givers and Takers.....

It's part of the Yin and Yang of life, I suppose.

Some people take. Some people give.

Over the weekend, my family and I, like millions of others,

participated in the "Ice Bucket Challenge" to raise funds and

awareness for ALS, aka "Lou Gehrig's Disease".  It has gone "viral"

on social media and millions of dollars have been raised through

the effort.  It was a fun thing to do, and we made a donation.

I just saw an online survey that revealed almost 50%

of people said that they would never do something

like that.  I'm sure they have their reasons.  Maybe they think it

would be embarrassing. Maybe they don't want to be cold

and wet for a few seconds.  Maybe they don't have the money to

donate.

The bothersome thing to me is that some of them won't

because they just don't care.  About ALS patients.  Or about

anything.  You know, the "What's in it for me?" folks.

These are the Takers.

There are all kinds of ways to give.

You can give financial support to great causes. You can give

your time as a volunteer.  You can give your wisdom in a

mentoring role.  You can give a kind word or deed when and

where it's needed.

Takers do none of that.

It took me a long time to realize the truth in the saying, "It is

better to give than to receive."  I've found that it feels better too.

Danny Thomas famously said, "There are two kinds of people in

the world. Givers and Takers. The Takers may eat better, but the

Givers sleep better..."

And I enjoy my sleep.