~~
So. You’re turned 70 this year. That’s 7-0. I’m turning 22 this year, which means that you’ve known me for just a little less than a third of your life. For some of those first years, I probably owe you an apology, but if it’s been this long, you’re probably over it by now anyways. I’ve been spending the last few years in college, and let me tell you, I think they’re missing some things. I’ve learned some of the most important things in life from you, Grandaddy. Here’s a categorized list.

Driving: No matter how many wheels the vehicle had, which has been somewhere between 2 and 6, you always let me have a turn driving it, even if I did so poorly. But more than that, you taught me what those One Way signs really mean. The arrow, I learned one day in Colorado, is merely a suggestion! If you turn against the arrow, that’s okay, so long as you only go one way. “One way.” They didn’t teach me that.

Architecture: What seems to me a precise art, a careful measuring and delicate balance of wood, nails, and the occasional shim, is boiled down to a simple phrase. A phrase which everyone else seems to have wrong. See, in College, they’ve taught me “measure twice, cut once.” No, no, I tell them. The real secret to fine architecture is, “Aww. It’ll be alright. It’ll never be noticed on a gallopin’ horse.”

Medicine: If you cut yourself, or scrap a knee, or break your arm, or crack open your skull, there is one camp granddaddy remedy that cures everything. A genuine article, it probably even cures cancer, but nobody seems to know its magical properties but Grandaddy. Whatever ails you, put a little Camphophinique on it, and it’ll be all better.

What’s more, splinters and stickers need no fancy processes for extraction. A gentle tickle will take care of the problem, with no pain, no muss, no fuss.

Cultural Awareness: College is supposed to be a time when you learn of opinions and secrets from the world over. Well, believe me when I tell you, I received more multi-cultural education from my Grandaddy than I’ve got in college. The wisdom of the ages was passed down, it seems, solely through Granddaddy. His endless supply of old Indian tricks taught me how to mark a cut line with a nail, how to open a stuck jar, how to draw a straight line without a square, and if given enough time, I’m sure I would find no end to the ancient Indian wisdom he carries with him.

Philosophy: While my college classes have given me some pretty tough questions to answer, I have always triumphed. I have found answers, and given them due thought. Some of the hardest-hitting questions have, once again, come from my granddaddy. Questions I have known since I was a wee lad, but have yet to formulate answers for. Really, think about it. Just how much wood COULD a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood? We may never know, but I bet the answer is there somewhere in all that Indian lore.
He is also never content in giving away answers. He is determined that we children figure things out for ourselves. When one of us would ask, “What’s that for?” “This?” He’d smile, “This is for making little boys ask questions.” A regular Aristotle he is.

Literature: I owe my love for English to Grandaddy, even. Through my classes, I have read many different poets and authors, but none have stood against these simple poems of my youth, rattled off effortlessly by Grandaddy.

Time Management and Goal Setting: After a long day of grueling elementary school, he had one question for us. A question to get us thinking about what we were doing, and how to best use our time. “What did you teach them in school today?” Unfortunately, we were too young to know better, and we answered, “Nothing.” He would look at us, and ask, “Well what’d they teach you?” Again, we’d answer “Nothing.” “Well, what did you go waste a whole day for?” At the time, we all laughed, not knowing any better, but you know, as I see it now, he’s got a point there. There’s something to do, and there’s a time line in which to do it.

High Fashion: Thus far, I have heard nothing in school about how I should dress, or what sorts of clothing is best. Grandaddy, however, is always on top of things. The essentials include a good pair of clod hoppers (ones which make you run faster, of course. If they don’t make you run faster, why’d you get them? Hah, there’s more of that Grandaddy practicality.), some ‘spenders to keep your britches (a sturdy pair of blue jeans) up, and a baseball cap. Fun AND functional.

Quality Assessment: No matter the type of product, there is one benchmark that is applied across the board to judge the worthiness of a given product. If that product doesn’t work better than windshield wipers on a cat’s rear, it certainly isn’t worth having.

I don’t even want to think where I’d be without my Grandaddy’s teaching me everything I’d need to get through life successfully. They certainly haven’t let us in on any of these secrets in school.

For as long as I can remember, I always looked forward to what I would learn next from Grandaddy. I always remember looking up to him in awe at how much he knew, how much he’d done, and how strong he was. Well, honestly, I still do. I might be taller, but to me, he’s always going to be Paul Bunyan. The Jolly Green Giant. Santa Claus. Atlas. He’s always seemed larger than life, always ready with a clever turn-of-phrase, a helping hand, a pat on the back to let you know that you are doing well, even when you don’t always do well.

Whenever I find myself feeling a bit overwhelmed and like I’m just not going to make it, I remember those big, strong hands of his grabbing me out of the snow after we turned the snowmobiles over after a blizzard came through. I remember my Grandaddy who can do anything. Who was always at basketball games, cheering, whistling. You could always hear his whistle, no matter how loud the crowd. I remember that I’ve got him behind me, patting me on the back, letting me know that I did well. I remember that I can grab onto his hands, and he’s strong enough to pull me back up, pour on some camphophinique and push me to keep going.

I haven’t ever been as appreciative of that nearly so much as I should have been, and as I write this, I realize how often I take him for granted. How I never call and see how things are going. How I don’t make time to stop by when I’m in town. But you know what? Despite all that, I know, I KNOW, that if I showed up at the door, and I needed him for something, he’d do it. He’s never let me down, and I don’t expect he’ll start now.

Happy birthday, Grandaddy. From all of us to you. And best wishes for many more to come.
~~

Who were you thankful for yesterday?

Q: How does the world see me?
A: First Love – Carlos Santana (Playin’ With Carlos)

Q: Will I have a happy life?
A: The Lying Lies and Dirty Secrets of Miss Erica Court – Coheed and Cambira (Good Apollo, I’m Burning Star IV, Volume One: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness) **Note: I have no idea why their song and album titles are so ridiculously long)**

Q: What do my friends really think of me?
A: Bowels Of The Beast – The Ravonettes (Whip It On)

Q: Do people secretly lust after me?
A: Autumn Shade II – The Vines (Winning Days)

Q: How can I make myself happy?
A: Situation – Godsmack (Godsmack)

Q: What should I do with my life?
A: The Sound of Settling – Death Cab for Cutie (iTunes Originals)

Q: Will I ever have children?
A: The Hazards of Love 4 (The Drowned) – The Decemberists (Hazards of Love)

Q: What is some good advice for me?
A: Jumpin’ Jack – Big Bad Voodoo Daddy (Americana Deluxe)

Q: How will I be remembered?
A: Forgotten – Avril Lavigne (Under My Skin)

Q: What do I think my current theme song is?
A: Inside Job – Pearl Jam (Perl Jam)

Q: What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
A: Once Upon A Time – The Smashing Pumpkins (Adore)

Q: What song will play at my funeral?
A: Warning – Incubus (Morning View)

Q: What type of men/women do I like?
A: Inner Glow – Blue October (History of Sale)

Boy. That was depressing. I’ll just go have some turkey now.

In any event, I’ve been setting my alarm for 6:30 every morning for the past couple weeks. This has allowed me some extra peace throughout the day, as I get my blogging done, I read up on blogs, and I make a few comments here or there. Then, I move on to working on this or that, whatever needs to get done. It’s really been pretty nice, even if it’s difficult to get up at such an ungodly hour.

But yesterday, I discovered something amazing about getting up with so much time to spend before having to get ready for work: naps. That’s right. Yesterday, I took a nap before 10AM. I did my usual thing, I got my chores done, then I had extra time! So I took a nap. From 9:00-9:30, I experienced that oft-hoped for nap that I hated so much when I was 5.

When I woke up, I felt refreshed and energized, ready to begin my day. Only, I had already begun my day! I had already accomplished a few tasks and was ready to move into the tedium of the day job. So. The moral of the story?

If you want to start your day off right, forget a big, full breakfast. Forget coffee. Get some stuff done, ZEN HAVE A NAP.

Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.

When I was in preschool, my cousin and I would very often sneak to the other half of the divided classroom so we could play together, as were were separated between the two teachers. This, of course, was frowned upon, but really, if you’re going to wrangle 4- and 5-year-olds, you should do a better job. I mean, all we had to do was skip through the connected bathroom. In any event, we would often get each other in trouble.

One day, when we were up to our usual shenanigans, we got caught, and we were sent to time-out. We both had to sit, facing a wall. Which, when you’re a hyperactive 5-year-old, that’s the worst thing in the world. Those five minutes may as well have been 5 hours as we sat. Doing nothing. Looking at whatever sort of bodily fluid had managed to get on the wall in front of us. Needless to say, I got bored.

In my boredom, I decided to start talking to my cousin, even though we were expressly forbidden from doing any such thing. It was, after all, time-out. And he, being more cautious than I, curtly shushed me. The only problem was, his shushing was noticed by the teacher and my talking was not. As a result, she came over and scolded him for talking during time-out and would hear nothing of the explanation!

I knew the truth, but my sentence was about to be commuted for good behavior, and I wasn’t about to pass that up. I let him sit there for an extra minute while I rejoined the rest of our friends. I was such an asshole.

Now, almost 20 years later, I have decided that it’s finally time to let go. I need to forgive myself this transgression, and I now formally apologize.

Dan, I’m sorry for letting you rot in the clink while I had juice and graham crackers. I hope, some day, you can forgive me, too.

Scoff if you will, but you probably did it, too. When it comes down to voting, it’s a great privilege. A gift, one which we should all take seriously, but the way the whole mess is setup, it’s difficult not to step back and laugh just a little. First of all, in the year 2010, I cannot update my voter registration electronically. I must submit a piece of dead, crushed, dried tree via hand-delivered means some 3 weeks in advance, or I can’t vote close to my neighborhood. Instead, I have to drive to the next city over, where I used to live, and vote in the sanctuary of a volunteering church. Whereupon, I must, because I failed to complete one piece of dead tree, fill out a different piece of dead tSree, which will then move my polling location to my new residence.

But, I logged into the TXDOT website a few weeks ago, entered some identifying information, and received a new drivers license about 2 weeks later. Sure, my licensure to hurtle myself around a one-ton piece of metal at 70 miles an hour can be updated with a few clicks, but not my polling location. What’s up with that? Heck, even the banks, which are notorious for requiring valid ID, proof of address, hair, urine, and sperm samples will let you open up a new bank account online, in just 10 short minutes!

But, rest assured: when I arrive at my polling location, they have the most state-of-the-art voting equipment! Touch-screens, big electronic keys to input the correct data to make sure the vote is accurate and legitimate. But only after I had to drive a town over and put some marks on some dead trees. Holy anachronisms, Batman!

In any event, the whole election process seems less about choosing the best candidate for any given job. Here in Texas, every single one of the candidates for governor were terrible. I mean, absolutely every one of them. There was a libertarian, and a green party candidate, both of whom were pretty much running for governor of the twilight zone. Then there were to two major parties: the incumbent republican, who has already served two useless terms, and a Democratic former mayor of Houston. Of the two, the choice largely seemed to be akin to choosing which bump on a log might prove more useful in bludgeoning someone.

One the one hand, we have a comfortable, lazy man who has done next to nothing in the last 10 (T-E-N) years to improve the state of Texas education, which languishes far behind most of the rest of the country. On the other, we have a guy who promises to increase education funding. Maybe. A little. Maybe. You know, we’ll just see how it goes. And maybe something about more law enforcement at the border? I don’t know. We’ll just play it by ear.

So there you have it. Your choices for Texas governor. You get to choose not who will be good at the job, but who will be less bad. Being unable to decide, I must admit I found myself in quite the quandary. Who to choose? The old guy who’s had 10 years but done nothing, or the other old guy who can’t even commit to strong rhetoric in his campaign? In the end, I went for a write-in. Please hold your applause until he’s sworn into office, but I think my vote may have finally put Justin Bieber into political office.

Often, in class, we students would find ways to keep ourselves entertained. During Shakespeare, someone came up with the idea to play a game, seeing who could get him to say any of a given set or words. Each word had a different point value, with the top-most being “platypus.”

One day, nearing the end of the semester, I went to the professor and asked if I could lead the devotional thought that day. “Sure,” he said, “Any reason?” “Well, yes! Today is national platypus day!” Not wanting to look like he didn’t know already, “Oh, right! I must have forgot!”

We got to class, and he began by asking me to come to the front, and have everybody pay attention for today’s special “Platypus Day” devotional. The other players stared daggers at me, while I continued with the devo, sat down, and enjoyed my victory.

+100 points for me.