kenlassblog

I have been a Christian all my life.  But I’m not a robot.  The pendulum of life swings with a wide path and, like even the most rock solid of the Faith, there are times when I have my doubts.

Often in these times the world seems like a dark, scary place.  If He was really there, would such injustice, inequity, and lack of regard for human life be allowed to continue?   So much hate, so much anger, resentment, jealousy, ignorance.  Sometimes it rattles the bolts that lock my soul around my Savior.

But now come grandchildren.  And through their tiny fingers I re-establish my grip on the Truth.   That only the Almighty could wrought something like a fresh, new human life, so helpless yet so full of unlimited potential.  Yes, He’s still there alright.  Who else could send you on this wondrous new journey?

It began by mentally revisiting the birth of my own kids….trying to wrap my mind around the concept that I could actually help create another human life…..and do so without any special education or skills.  Scientists spend a lifetime studying the genome, but I could sire a human without even knowing the difference between a kidney and a bladder.  This new life would be born with intellect and emotion……..and a social conscience, none of which I could have programmed.  Yet there had to be a programmer.

Even more incredible is that this individual I helped to create was, in turn, capable of helping to create another life….my grandchild……a little person that would resemble me in ways obvious and subtle.  It had been almost 30 years since I held and observed a newborn life.  Long enough to forget that we come into this world with absolute helplessness.  Often born to caregivers who know little or nothing about meeting our needs.  Who make mistake after mistake.  Yet we survive and even thrive…..dare I say it…..by the grace of God.

I was intrigued at how my infant grandchildren had to learn how to be human.  Guess I expected more things to be instinctive.  For example, simply grasping an object.  I would place a tiny toy on his little hand.  At first, he would just kind of pin it between two fingers to pick it up.  He literally had to learn how his hand works.  In time he figured out how to bend his fingers at the joints and grasp something.  Seems we take about the first six months or so just to figure out how our bodies function.

But brother, once we do figure it out, it’s on!  The rate of learning shifts into warp drive.  We are programmed to quickly absorb language, personality, strength, agility, not to mention emotional manipulation, something at which a baby/toddler excels!  I am in amazement at how the programming follows the same, exact sequence for virtually all healthy babies.  Turning over, then bracing up into the “starting block” position, crawling, pulling up, and, consummately, walking.  Photo albums contain pages of fill-in-the-blank spaces for these momentous events in precisely that sequence.   Because its part of the plan.  His plan.

By 21 months my precious granddaughter can repeat virtually anything I say (uh-oh), re-enact every physical thing I do, figure out how to do things I don’t want her to do, and destroy my disciplinary will with a quick hug and kiss.  Such wisdom and cunning at such a tender age.  As I rock my grandson I watch his eyes gently lose control and slowly close…..beautiful eyes capable of performing over ten thousand different movements and functions.  Petite ears that not only hear a wide spectrum of sound, but somehow arrange perspectives of that sound so that he can tell which noises are close and which distant.  A tiny red tongue that, in time, will learn to contort into hundreds of positions to enunciate the different sounds of the language.

All of these spectacularly complex functions can only happen because we are born with the capability to perform them, without any pre-design whatsoever from a human hand.  The programmer has taken care of it all.  It’s impossible….no, make that ridiculous….. for me to believe, having observed my subjects at close range, that this could be the result of some random evolutionary events.  It is, purely and simply, an act of God.  It is the human miracle.

So let the terrorists threaten, the racists hate, the overzealous liberals and conservatives bicker.  My God is still in control.  I know this because my grandson just spit up all over my shirt, and then flashed me a big smile that said “Relax Grampa.  Everything’s gonna be ok.”

 

My wife Sharon and I are classic pack rats.  We live in  a house bursting with stuff  for which we have absolutely no use, but which we either never got around to, or can’t bring ourselves to throw away.

Ever set out on one mission and wind up diverting into another completely unexpected journey?  That was the case with us recently when Sharon started rifling through an old metal document box tucked away deep in a hall closet.  She was searching for a car title, but instead she discovered a pile of old checkbook registers.  They dated back more than 40 years.

For us it was something akin to discovering the Dead Sea scrolls.  We immediately abandoned the search for the car title and spent the next few hours on an incredible trip down memory lane.  Just wading through the various entries seemed to bring back vivid memories of the beginning of our life together, not to mention incredible snapshots of the world as it existed four decades ago.

The checkbook we found most iconic was dated 1975…the year we were married.  I thought it would be fun to share some of the entries with you.

August 14th, 1974                                                                                                FLEET FARM…..$88.57                                                                                      MEMO:  4 new tires for car                                                                                This averages out to a little over $22 per tire.  You can’t hardly buy one tire for 88 bucks today.

January 8th, 1975                                                                                                WISCONSIN TELEPHONE COMPANY……$22.49                                                MEMO:  December phone bill                                                                             I would be embarrassed to tell you what our phone bill is today.  Bear in mind this bill would reflect just one wall phone in my apartment.  No mobiles, no text messaging charge, no internet  (the world wide web was still about 20 years into the future).

July 7th, 1975                                                                                                     C & T AMERICAN  MOTORS…..$1,847.80                                                           MEMO:  New car                                                                                                 Yes, I actually bought a brand new American Motors Gremlin for  a little over $1800.  I was getting married in three months and I wanted my girl to ride in style!  (Sure, you laugh now, but Gremlins were all the rage at that time….at least for people on my humble radio deejay budget.)

August 10th, 1975                                                                                                JAMES COWAN, LANDLORD……$75.00                                                             MEMO:  First month rent                                                                                   Two months before the wedding.  We picked out an upstairs apartment in an old house as our first love nest.  I lived there alone until the big day.  An elderly lady lived below us.  When our TV or stereo was too loud (which was all the time) she would take a broom stick and bang it on the ceiling to indicate to us to turn it down.  She was considerably more friendly when she would ask me to shovel the snow off the sidewalk and driveway.

August 31st, 1975                                                                                                 H.C. PRANGE COMPANY……..$411.84                                                                 MEMO:   Sofa and dining room set                                                                    At first I just slept on a mattress on the floor with a folding chair in the den.  Sharon was beginning to furnish the nest.

September 17th, 1975                                                                                          TREASURE ISLAND AUTO SERVICE….$8.52                                                     MEMO:  Oil change for car                                                                                 Nothing but the best for that Gremlin.  Try getting that price for an oil change today.

September 24th, 1975                                                                                         FOX CITIES COMMUNICATIONS…$6.50                                                           MEMO:  First cable TV bill                                                                                  Cable TV was in its infancy, but I was intrigued by the concept, especially this new channel that showed nothing but obscure sports events.  It was called ESPN.  Probably never catch on.

October 2nd, 1975                                                                                               JUDY WILLIAMS…..$51.45                                                                                  MEMO:  Wedding cake                                                                                       16 days before the wedding.  I have no recollection of who Judy Williams was.  But I do remember that cake was awesome.  I’m guessing they are a little more expensive now.

October 10th, 1975                                                                                               KIMBERLY FLOWERS……$121.00                                                                        MEMO:  Wedding flowers                                                                                  What???  The flowers were more than twice as expensive as the cake?  Personally, I got much more enjoyment out of the cake.  8 days until the wedding.

October 18th, 1975                                                                                               GUEST HOUSE INN….$19.74                                                                               There was no memo for this entry, but this was our wedding day so I’m assuming this was our hotel the first night as man and wife.  Could it really have been this inexpensive?  Guess this was when she found out she had not married a big spender.

Interestingly, that was the final entry in the register.  Apparently Sharon took over the finances after that and I haven’t had a clue where we stand financially since.  By the way, there was never a deposit more than $400 in the book, which gives you an idea of my income level in those days.

I guess now that Sharon and I have enjoyed  reliving our youth, it’s time to finally throw the old checkbooks away for real………….

……….Nawwww, that’s not gonna happen.  Back into the old metal file box they go.  I want to take this journey again after another 40 years.

 

 

 

 

Random thoughts about this strange and wonderful journey:

I have noticed that if I slowly and gently sneak on top of the bathroom scale, instead of just abruptly stepping on it, my weight is about a pound lighter.  Make sure you get off quickly before your scale realizes you’ve tricked it.

Am I the only one who has completely forgotten how to adjust the clock in my car by the time daylight savings changes?

If I see a “lane closed ahead” sign while driving on the freeway, I dutifully pull over into the stacked up through-lane immediately.  Then I sit and do a slow boil as I watch other cars drive in the closed lane all the way up to the merge point, and wind up getting let in way ahead of me.  Can’t tell if I’m mad at them or at myself for not doing it.

Why is the TV always tuned to CNN in the waiting room of the auto service department?  Maybe they want you to get used to hearing a lot of bad news so you won’t explode when they show you the bill.

It’s amazing how sound can carry.  If I go out in my backyard on a quiet day, I can hear two of my neighbors talking to each other nearly a block away.  Hmmm….makes me wonder what I have said about my neighbors in the backyard.

My dog must be thinking….why do I have to do my duty out in the rain and cold when you get to stay in the nice, comfortable bathroom?  This could explain the unpleasant little surprises I sometimes find.

It has become nearly impossible for me to watch a television program in real time because of the length of the commercial breaks.  My DVR has risen to the top three of the most important things in my life, right after God and family. (and sometimes second place is a toss-up)

I’m so jealous of all these men who can grow these thick, full-face beards that are so popular now.  When I try, my face looks like a garden after three months of drought.

It just doesn’t seem right to have to pay to make the air pump work at the gas station.  Shouldn’t air be free?  What’s next?  A charge for breathing?

I don’t get how so many restaurants can advertise that they serve “home cooking”.  Nothing in a restaurant is home cooking unless the chef is making it in his own kitchen and bringing it to work.

You see that random item in your house every single day.  So why is it not there when you actually need it?

Disturbing trend:  Looks like hotels are getting away from supplying bibles in the drawers.  The last few I have stayed in had none.

If you wear a ball cap for a long period of time, eventually you forget its there.  But then when you take it off, it feels like it’s still there.

Why do people push elevator buttons that are clearly lit up and have already been pushed?

No matter how old I get, when I have to twist a cap or knob, I have to revert back to the childhood phrase “righty tighty, lefty loosey”.

I am amazed at how some people can’t tell the difference between a movie theater and their own living rooms, and thus feel free to talk out loud during the entire picture.  And why do they always manage to sit directly behind me?

How can some people stand forever in a long line at the concession stand, but when they get up there they still don’t know what they want?

And finally, why did the Good Lord make you and me so perfect, and yet built so many flaws in so many other folks?

 

 

It was what I considered the gaping hole in a 43 year media career.

I have had the privilege and opportunity to meet and sit down and conduct personal interviews with world famous news figures, sports heroes, singers, actors and political figures.  But the one interview I always wanted to do eluded me…..I had never met or interviewed a current or former President of the United States.

That hole has now been filled.  I am thrilled to announce that I had an exclusive, one-on-one, personal sit down interview with President Donald Trump.

Okay.  Full disclosure.  That previous statement is a half-truth.  But as we all know, in politics a half-truth counts as a fact.

I did indeed have an exclusive interview with Donald Trump.   It just happened to take place 32 years before he was elected president.  It was the Spring of 1984 to be exact.

Still, that was no small accomplishment.  Even then Trump was a worldwide celebrity and media darling.  National press was all over every move he made.  Famous journalists whose names you would immediately recognize would have drooled over the same opportunity.

At the time, I was the sports anchor at Channel 13 in Birmingham, the NBC affiliate.  Part of my beat was covering the Birmingham Stallions of the United States Football League, a new professional league going into its second year of existence.  The USFL played its games in the spring to avoid competing against the established and powerful National Football League.  The opening game of the 1984 season was to be against the New Jersey Generals, a team that just happened to be owned by…….you guessed it….Donald Trump.

As he is now, Trump then was already overcoming long odds and achieving things nobody thought he could pull off.  He had shocked the sports world by outbidding the NFL on two Heisman Trophy winners, and convincing them to sign with his fledgling team.  Herschel Walker and Doug Flutie immediately made the Generals the media epicenter of the young league.

The team was scheduled to arrive in Birmingham on Saturday, with the game to be played the following day.  It is customary for the local media to camp out at the team hotel and interview players and coaches as they arrive.  While my media brethren were focusing on trying to interview Walker and Flutie, I decided to try going higher.

Figuring Trump might accompany the team, I contacted the Generals publicity people days ahead and requested a personal interview with the owner.  I knew it was a long shot.  Like I said, he was turning down national media requests left and right.  The chances of a local yokel like me landing him were about as good as my chances of getting President Ronald Reagan. (see what I did there?)

But I took my shot.  I knew I had one thing going for me…..Trump’s ego.  You see, Trump didn’t really want to own a USFL team, he wanted to own an NFL team.  He wanted in to the most powerful and prestigious sports league in the world.  But none of the current NFL owners would sell to him.  His plan was to make the USFL so successful, and such a threat to the NFL, that it would force the established league to merge with them and take in their teams.  It was the same plan successfully executed by the American Football League in the 1960’s.

I told the PR man that I would air the Trump interview and promote it heavily that night, which would generate more ticket sales to the game the next day, thereby providing a big crowd for national television, thereby making the league appear more viable.   I had no idea if that would actually happen, but it must have sounded well coming out of my mouth because…..much to my surprise…..it worked!!!

The team got back to me and I was told Mr. Trump would sit down with me the afternoon of the day before the game.  I arrived on time at the hotel and noticed no other media there at the moment.  I was greeted in the lobby by a PR type who was the very personification of the slick, fast talking guys you would see playing the role of a boxing promoter  in the movies.  Cigar in his mouth, thick New York accent, and all.

He took me all the way up the elevator to the top floor penthouse suite.  I had actually never been in one before and I was struck at how spacious and plush and beautiful it was.  I had no idea such accommodations existed in Birmingham.  I pictured Mr. Trump in there, enjoying a rare, quiet moment alone before resuming his busy schedule.  But as I was led in, the suite was full of people.  I guess it was the entourage.  Men and women dressed in business attire.  Trump was sitting at a table and people were all around him, tending to his every need and whispering things to him.  The PR type informed me that I had 15 minutes.

TV newsrooms in medium markets like Birmingham are short on people on the weekends, so I wound up having to shoot the interview myself, carrying my own camera on my shoulder and rolling while holding the mic out in front of the interview target.   Not exactly the three and four person sound crews Trump was used to working with!  I was a little embarrassed and felt the people in the room snickering at me, but I pressed on.

The interview went very well.  Trump was gracious and kind.  He was in a good mood and did not blow me off with “yes” and “no” answers to get me out of the room, as I had expected.  He tried very hard to give introspective responses.  He was very complimentary of Alabama and its people and its proud football tradition.  He was supremely confident and spoke in imperatives.  “We WILL be a success.  The fans WILL love the product.  The NFL WILL sit up and take notice.”

I went way over my 15 minutes as the PR type wrung his hands and gave me the “wrap” sign.  But….here’s a shock……Trump loved being on camera, and seemed willing to go as long as I wanted.  We finally finished up.  Trump shook my hand and said quite sincerely “Thanks for the interview.  See you at the game tomorrow”.

The PR type quickly ushered me back to the elevator and thanked me as well, although I don’t think he made eye contact with me at any point. I did air portions of the interview that night.  The following day a huge crowd of over 60,000 showed up for the game, by far the biggest crowd in the Stallions brief, 3 year history.  Of course, my interview had nothing to do with that, but I love to entertain in my own mind that it might have.

So that was my encounter with a future president.  As I watch Trump conduct himself in the White House, I recognize all the same characteristics I got to observe first hand.  He hasn’t changed.  He’s going to be himself.

As it pertains to politics, I have no strong feeling about President Trump one way or the other, unlike most people.  I am taking a wait and see approach to his presidency.  I desperately want this country to come together and mend its differences.  Is he the man to do it?  Time will tell.

But from my own meeting with him I can tell you this:  He believes he will.  He has no doubt whatsoever that he will be a success…..and he doesn’t care what people think.  He is unaffected by the criticism.  Just as he was unaffected by the criticism he took from the other USFL owners when he pushed to move the season to the fall to compete head on with the NFL, and then pushed the league to sue the NFL for monopolizing fall football.

I have no idea what the next four years have in store….but I have a feeling they will not be boring.

 

It was a tough day.

I had received word that my dearest childhood friend had passed away. Her name was Vicki White Maas.  She is the woman in the middle of the above photograph.  You didn’t know her.  Your loss.  In my life she was that person.  That one relationship that endures from childhood through an entire lifetime.

As kids we grew up just a few doors apart.  We quickly became friends because there weren’t a lot of other kids in the neighborhood our age.  We played together, watched TV together, ate lunch at each other’s house, shared our hopes and dreams.  She was that person.

In high school we tried dating each other.  We immediately realized our relationship was not romantic.  Looking back, I think that was the best part of it.  We were boy and girl, but we didn’t have to be boyfriend and girlfriend to be close.  We could be open and relaxed in each other’s company without the stress of maintaining romance.

To know her was to experience her laugh…..that incredible laugh.  It was one of those that begins with a long, audible exhale, followed by a pause during which you wondered if she would start breathing again, culminating in a series of loud guffaws, complete with shoulders and head bobbing.  It was the kind of laugh that lit you up.  She made me feel  funny and clever, even though I knew I was neither.  She was that person.

She refused to let our friendship fade with the onset of adulthood, even after we both fell in love with other people, got married, and I moved far away.  She worked so much harder than me to stay in touch.  There was always the occasional phone call, or the letter showing up in my mailbox, providing the gravitational force to pull us back together.  (Remember letters?….so much more personal and intimate than today’s text message).

The last time I saw her was a year and a half ago.  Sharon and I were back in town for a family reunion, and we had dinner with her the night before. Though we had communicated often, it was the first time I had seen her in decades.  She hadn’t changed a bit.  Same bubbly personality, same smile…..and the laugh.  She was getting close to retirement and was so excited about what was to come in the next phase of her life.  As we were saying good-bye, I asked a man passing by  to take the photo shown above.  I never dreamed it would be the last time I would see her.  In recent years, we stayed in touch on Facebook.  Every time a tornado would pass through my neck of the woods, which was often,  she would always private-message me to make sure I was okay.  She was that person.

Vicki passed away recently from complications due to liver and kidney failure.  Her son posted that the outpouring of love was “mind-blowing”. Not to me.  Not surprised a bit.  What she gave to me, she gave to all…….unwavering loyalty and empathy.  She was that person.

I’m thinking that the thing that makes death so sad is the notion that the wonderful memories of the relationship are only valid if the other person is still around to reminisce with you….that the memories somehow must die as well…..

Not a chance..

There is an episode of Star Trek:  The Next Generation that is titled “The Inner Light”.  In it, Commander Picard is struck by a space probe that causes him to have a vision of a civilization that existed thousands of years ago.  The entire civilization ceased to exist when their planet was destroyed after colliding with a gigantic meteor.  But before the end, they constructed the probe and sent it out into the stars to search for people to inform of their former existence.  Their thinking was, they would never really die as long as the memory of them still remained in someone’s heart.

Thus it will be with my friend Vicki.  I am determined her passing will be instructive, not tragic.  I am going to try my best to preserve her sweet spirit in my relationships with other people…..make it so Number One.

I sincerely hope that you have, or had, a Vicki in your journey, and that this person has inspired you as I have been inspired.  Someone whose influence is such that you feel compelled to write and tell others about them.

Someone who is that person.

 

Hi little man.  As I rock your tiny body in my arms, and stare in awe at the beautiful miracle that you are, I can’t help but wonder what your life will be like.  What things you’ll see, where you’ll go, what you’ll do, what you’ll become, what the world will be like when you’re my age.

I don’t have a clue what the future holds.  But I can tell you what you’ve missed.

You missed a childhood without fear.  There once was a time when the world was not such a scary place.  When you could leave the house in the morning without telling your Mom where you were going, play with your friends all day, and come back in time for supper with no questions asked.   A time when you knew all your neighbors and they knew you, and everybody’s house seemed to belong to everybody.  When your Mom could pack you in the car and take you along to the grocery store without locking the house….even leaving the garage door open.

You missed the serenity of life with no mobile phones.  When people drove their cars actually looking at the road instead of their text messages.  When your car was a refuge from a world constantly wanting your time and attention.  When you weren’t in danger of getting sucked into the deception of social media, with all its facades, a fantasy world where everyone else’s life seems better than yours.  A time when families would sit at a restaurant table and actually talk to each other instead of staring intensely at their phones.

You missed a lot of people.  There were people who pumped your gas, reset the pins on your bowling alley, ushered the aisles at movie theatres, and gave you cash at the bank.  By the time you’re old enough to notice cashiers and waitresses, they may be gone as well.  You missed an incredible great grandmother who would have modeled for you what selfless love really looks like.

You missed dictionaries, phone books, encyclopedias, bottle openers, maps, wringers, rotary phones and shoe horns.

You missed Muhammad Ali, Vince Lombardi, Bear Bryant, Mickey Mantle, Wilt Chamberlain and Arnold Palmer.

American Bandstand, Disco, Wolfman Jack, Veejays, The Twist and sock hops.

Alan Shepard, John Glenn, Martin Luther King, Walter Cronkite, Gandhi, and Vietnam.

The Cold War, the Berlin wall,  the Cuban missile crisis, 9/11, gas rationing, and the Great Recession.

You missed a time when being a Christian was seen by the world as positive and uplifting, not judgemental and non-inclusive.

Some of what you missed was wonderful and will never happen again.  Some of it was frightening.  All of it was instructive.  Or at least it should have been.

Your life will be easier than mine, but will you be happier?  You will be smarter than me, but will you be wiser?   You will see things even more incredible than I have, but will they enrich your life as much?  You will see more of the secrets of the universe unlocked, but will it bring you closer to God?

Here are things I pray you don’t miss:

Laughter, tears, adventure, excitement, sunrises, mercy, encouragement, acknowledgement, the love of a good woman, friendship, forgiveness, success, humility, legacy……..

………..and me…….don’t miss out on me…..I’ll be right here when you wake up.

 

So you’ve raised your kids, they’re grown and gone, and, in fact, are now having kids of their own.  This, of course, puts you into that exciting new phase known as The Grandparent Zone.

As you reflect on this miracle of generational procreation, most of us can’t resist a little self-critique,  a  reflection of how we did as a parent…a little self-scorecard of what you feel you did right or wrong.  And when you come to the wrong parts, naturally you make a promise to yourself that you will absolutely correct these mistakes when it comes to dealing with your grandkids.

I have been blessed with two beautiful grandchildren over the past two years.  Thus, I have had the perfect opportunities to correct the mistakes of my first parenting adventure.  I had my list of best practices ready.  So, in the interest of making the world a better place,  I thought you might like to see part of that list, and how it turned out.  My agenda included, but was not limited to, the following:

“This time around, I will not lose my temper and yell at my grandkids, as I did all too often with my children.”                                                                Actually, I was doing quite well with this.   I would sit back with a knowing smirk on my face as my little grand-toddler systematically worked her way through the house, investigating every iota of merchandise in the building.  ” How cute” I burbled, filled with wisdom and poise.

That was until she discovered the wondrous world of my TV remote control, with all of its fascinating buttons.  From that point on, I would find myself watching an intense football game one minute, only to see the channel change to a show about somebody cooking linguini, followed rapidly by a change to some stud with facial hair showing a young couple how to remodel their house, followed by an infomercial to correct my turkey neck,  followed by a meter to test my signal strength.  Try as I might to hide the remote, it always seemed to end up back in her hands.  Her resourcefulness was impressive!  But eventually it became increasingly less cute and ultimately there was yelling and that was the end of this particular resolution.

“This time around, I will resolve to be more of a help to my wife and daughter and be more willing to change wet and dirty diapers”.                                  Yeah, honestly, this sounded nice in my head but it was never really going to happen.  I did become better at recognizing the signs that an event was about to take place.  There is that hard squint of the eyes and the cheeks turning red.  At that point I would turn to Sharon and say something like “Gee dear, I’ve been hogging the child all day.  Here, you hold him for awhile.”  Unfortunately, my wife being much smarter than me, that only worked once.

“This time around, I will resist the temptation to feed them junk to keep them happy, and will insist they eat healthy food.”                                                        Even just typing that now makes me laugh.  What was I thinking?  You can’t go back to peas and carrots once they’ve had a sampling of banana pudding and chocolate cream pie. So they bounce off the walls.  They’re going back to Mom and Dad soon anyway

“I will spend more quality time with them”                                                      No problem.  They should fit quite nicely on my golf cart as I get in a quick 18.

You get the idea.  In the end we’re kind of wired to be the caretakers we have been, and our parenting skills are what they are.  Fortunately, love overcomes a myriad of mistakes.  And then you look at your own kids, see that they’ve grown up to be good, solid human beings, and realize you’ve muddled through pretty well.

So take heart.  You will love being a grandparent.  Enjoy making those wonderful mistakes all over again.

 

 

 

As a young boy I have vivid memories of going to the mall with Mom and Dad.  Mom would weave in and out of stores for hours.  But after poking through the sporting goods place for a few minutes, Dad and I would park ourselves on a centrally located bench or sofa and prepare to engage in his favorite pastime…..people watching.

We would wile away the time observing the various types, shapes and sizes of the hundreds of human beings who would walk by.  Dad would play a little game, trying to guess various things about some random person, just based on appearances.  How old are they?  (“all that make-up must mean she’s at least 50”.) What is their ethnicity? (“His blonde hair looks natural.  He must be Swedish”.)  What is their income level?  (“Check out that necklace.  She must be loaded!”)

In just seconds the person would pass on by into oblivion and a new subject would arrive and a new set of evaluations would begin.  You could call it the ultimate form of profiling.   Making judgements based purely on appearances.  But since our thoughts were completely personal, and we never actually had any interaction with any of these people, we deemed it harmless and had a great deal of fun with it.  It was some of the best bonding time I remember with my Dad.

He’s been gone since 1990, but I carry on the tradition.  I love to relax in public places and watch folks go by.  The beach is my favorite.  Oh, the things you can imagine you know about someone just by observing them in a bathing suit!  She must work out.  He drinks too much beer.  Oh dear, is she pregnant and smoking?  He doesn’t have control of his kids.  They must be newlyweds.  They’ve been married too long!  She is dressed, or not dressed, to attract attention (wait, stop looking at her).

That has to be a toupee.  She is red as a beet.  Gonna be a long night for her.

It’s especially fun to observe the mating dance….how the trio of young guys plot to draw the attention of the girls three umbrellas over.  The strategy of choice is usually the old play catch with the football routine.  Oh…did that throw just accidentally get past me and land in front of your beach chair?  So sorry. Hey, My name is Justin.  Didn’t I see you at Red Lobster last night?

I always find myself rooting for the guys to get shut down.  Not sure why.

Then there’s the walk of the middle-aged avenger.  This is the fifty-something guy who is divorced and has spent countless hours in the gym bulking up, using steroids, hitting the tanning bed, and somehow crafting his body to look like Schwarzenegger, circa 1975.  He wears huge sunglasses to hide the tell-tale wrinkles around the eyes.  He walks slowly along the shoreline, staring straight ahead.  He’s worked hard for this moment and he wants everyone to appreciate it.  I scan the women around me to see if they are taking notice.  Most are buried in their phones or a good book or sound asleep.  All that effort, I think, wasted.  He would have been better off watching football and eating cheeseburgers like me.

I suspect I am not alone in this pursuit.  I’m willing to bet you’ve done a little people watching in your time.  Admit it.  It’s so much fun, even if you feel a little guilty about some of your conclusions.  It’s pretty harmless…. unless you do something stupid….like posting them on a blog.

 

Dear God,

Greetings from Earth…you know, that little planet You created in the corner of the Milky Way Galaxy, the one you get all the complaints from.  Thanks for all of Your incredible blessings.  We don’t say that often enough.  But me and some of my readers have compiled a list of questions for you.

I know you’re real busy.  Just dealing with politicians must be a full time job.  But when you have a sec, could you provide answers?  Some of the questions are deep, and some might seem a little silly, but you know what they say…..there’s no such thing as a stupid question.

By the way, is that really true?  I guess that’s the first question.  Here are some others:

Why do multi-million dollar show business celebrities think we care about their political opinions?  Nobody could be more out of touch with the common people.

Why does my auto correct think it is smarter than I am?

Is my auto correct smarter than I am?

Why do people push elevator buttons that have clearly already been pushed?

What exactly was your thought process when you created cockroaches?

Is there a good way to tell if someone is actually talking to me or is just on the phone with one of those ear clip devices?

Why do some drivers on the freeway, after passing a sign that says “left lane closed ahead”, deliberately drive all the way down the left lane to the merge point, and then expect someone to let them in?

Why won’t anyone let me in when I drive all the way down the left lane after passing a sign that says “left lane closed ahead”?

Why does the losing party on “Judge Judy” pretend to be mad when the decision doesn’t go their way, since both parties make money anyway for being on the show?

Broccoli?

Why won’t the automated answering service listen to me when I tell her that I really don’t care that the list of options has changed?  I still want to speak to an agent, just like always.

Why do people drive hundreds of miles to watch their favorite football team on Saturday, but won’t drive 2 or 3 miles to go to church on Sunday?

How did hate get invented?  Was it because love had to have an opposite?  And why is hate so much easier?

Why do bad things happen to good people?  I know you get that one a lot.  I guess it’s because the answers we’ve tried to figure out don’t make us feel better.

Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton?  Really?  This is what happens when You give us free will.

Would you consider going back and giving Adam and Eve another chance?  I’m sure they would make a better decision this time.

Now that so many men are letting their facial hair grow, is it okay for women to stop shaving their legs?  (I would like to suggest a big “no” on this one.)

When we look in the mirror, is that really what we look like?  Or are You playing a really cruel joke on us?

Why did you create guns?  I don’t see the upside.

Why do we run a fever when we have a cold?  Shouldn’t it be called a “hot”?

Why is our culture becoming so sexually explicit and immoral?  What is it we are searching for?

Why does my little dog chase and bark at a squirrel as though it is an evil threat, but when a stranger appears at my door, the dog rolls over on his back and waits for a tummy scratch?

Why won’t people give You credit for the incredible miracles you perform every day?  Are they afraid of You?

Some of my readers may comment with more questions.  Please be patient with us.  We’re all just trying to figure this stuff out.  Thanks for listening.

Your humble servant,

Ken

P.S.  Thanks for banana pudding and football.  They are two of your best things.

 

Like many of you, I love football.  I have been known to slink down into my basement man cave on Saturday morning and fritter away an entire weekend watching games, cracking the upstairs door open Monday morning and squinting at the daylight, wondering if the world outside of football still exists.

Grass needs to be mowed?  Trash to be taken out?  Garage is on fire?  Kids missing?  Whatever.  It can wait.  Nowhere State is about to kick off against Applefart Tech and I must watch.

There is just one downside to watching football.  It is the only time that I lose control of my language.  It happens when I watch my team, the Green Bay Packers.  Don’t get me wrong, I abhor profanity.  Aside from the obvious spiritual violation (taking God’s name in vain), it also displays a basic lack of discipline, class and maturity.  Which is why I am so disappointed in myself when these things come out of my mouth when things are not going well for my team.

So this is the year.  I’m going to do it.  I’m going to stop swearing at football.  Whatever it takes.  I’m putting a jar next to the TV, and every time something profane comes out of my mouth, I’m putting a dollar bill into the jar…..no….a five dollar bill…..aw, let’s make it really hurt…a ten!  At the end of the year, any money will either be donated to my church or my beach trip.  (We’ll see how the season goes.)

But wait a minute……before I commit to this, I need your help to establish the ground rules.  What exactly is a swear word?  If I spit out substitute words like Bullfeathers!  Cockroach!  God Bless America!  Fussbucket!  Is that still swearing?  Is it the intent that counts or the actual words?

When my running back fumbles the ball on the one yard line just before going in for the winning score, can I spring off my sofa and scream “You good-for-nothing worthless piece of bloated protoplasm”?

Nothing wrong with those words,  but part of me feels I would still be guilty of Profanity in the second degree.  Intent to swear.   Like those tabloid TV programs where they bleep out the bad word but you can clearly read their lips and know what they were saying.

There’s not much time.  Football season is almost upon us.  So help me out here.  Leave a comment and tell me if you think substitute words take me off the hook.

What the heck are you waiting for?