"The Cuckoo"

My Grampa Sliver (Sly-ver) told stories in great detail.

Grampa went blind from Glaucoma when he was in his sixties. That might have something to do with it. He always talked about "the house on the southeast corner of Barron and Monfort Street..." the one he inevitably plastered at some point...

Born in 1892 in Eaton, Ohio, Grampa claimed that when he was young, there were still native Americans around Eaton. I have no reason to doubt him... I just wasn't around then to verify his story.

His legendary story that he told me over and over, as he turned his head not quite facing my direction, was the story of a plant he called, "the cuckoo."

He claimed that this plant had healing remedies... I can still see the expression on his face as he would tell me this story. (Being blind, he wore dark green aviator glasses...)

He would look not quite in my direction and say, "You take "the cuckoo" (long pause) and you boil it... and if you had an infection in your hand (long pause) you'd take it... and put it there (patting the palm of his left hand with the back of the fingers on his right hand) and you'd wrap it with a cloth like this (imagine wrapping a cloth around your left hand using the right hand to do so... And in a few days, the poison (infection) would... would... would... come out!"

He described "the cuckoo" as a wild plant that had a stem about the size of a pencil with leaves that would grow out of the stem at various intervals... I don't recall him mentioning that it had flowers... I found this while doing some research... Cuckoo-Pint I wonder... Could it be?

I loved sitting with my Grampa listening to him tell stories...

He was always folding Puffs tissues into little squares and stacking him on the little medicine cabinet end table that was next to his rocking chair... he also had about a thousand rubber bands around the arm of his chair... I inherited his clock that he used to tell time by opening the decorative glass front and feeling the hands on the clock... The problem was, being blind, in his later years, he couldn't tell AM from PM!

And if the Reds were playing, he was listening!

If I emptied his little trash basket next to his rocking chair, he would give me a dollar... or two! He would open up his wallet and pull out a bill and ask me, "Is that a one?" Yes... "Is THAT a one?" Yes... (He knew darn well they were ones...)

I emptied has basket pretty often, too...

To this day I still drink my coffee the way Grampa did... because I made it for him just about every morning. One spoon Sanka. One spoon sugar. One spoon creamer... And when he'd drink it, his nose would go into his coffee cup and he always had a drip of coffee on the tip of his nose! (Sometimes we'd tell him... : )

But the thing I remember most is sneaking into his bedroom (which wasn't hard... because he was blind...) and I'd sit at the foot of his bed and wait... for him to pray for me.

"And Lord... bless little Scotty... who was born November 9, 1962 at Grandview Hospital in Dayton, Ohio..." lol

(I think he gave all the detail just to be sure that God knew who he was talking about.)

He would go person by person through our family and pray for each one... laying on his side, hands clasped, whispering his prayers, just loud enough for one to hear... if they were listening...



Every two weeks the blogosphere comes alive as a consortium of creatives all blog about the same topic. This installment's LetsBlogOff topic is "My Grandmother Always Said..."

If You Could Turn Back Time...

What would you do?

This is the question being pondered by our LetsBlogOff consortium this week. A LetsBlogOff is when a group of bloggers all tackle the same topic and post on the same day.

"If I could turn back time... If I could find a way... I'd take back those words that hurt you... and you'd stay..." Cher

Being Mr. Pop Culture, that is (unfortunately) where my mind goes right from the start. (Did you know Cher is the only artist to reach number one on the Billboard charts in each of the previous SIX decades? She has sold over 100 million records worldwide!)

But wouldn't that be nice? If we could actually take back the words we say that have hurt someone? Have you ever said, "Wait, I'm so sorry... I didn't mean that."

I have found that the reality in my life is I am often the most honest when I am the most angry. I get frustrated or hurt and lash out and it's like in You've Got Mail when the Tom Hanks character cautions the Meg Ryan character about what follows after you "zing" someone... "I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitably follows."

Don't get me wrong... I'm pretty careful with my words. I'm not prone to being harsh, but I can be a little pointed at times, and my words can have a bit of a sharp edge to them. And I am really good at coming across as smug. And I hate that about me...

The stink of it is more often than not it's with my family. Generally when I'm tired. (I'm better at 6:00 AM than I am 10:00 PM.) I start to get cranky about 9:00 PM, especially if I haven't eaten dinner, usually due to my being overly busy.

I refer this phenomenon as, "my filter needs replacing." In other words, I'm tired and I don't have the energy to be as careful as I usually TRY to be.

My words get sharper, more off color, less careful, less "filtered." 

I do a fair amount of public speaking, doing a similar presentation up to four times in a weekend. I find this phenomenon often happens at the last presentation, too. I'm tired... too much adrenaline, too much coffee, tired of hearing myself blather on about whatever topic I deem to be life-changing at that particular time.

Then it happens... often in front of hundreds of people. I say something that I would LOVE to take back. Something slightly off color. Something that came from a place where there is an emotional scar... Something that has a sharper-than-usual edge to it. Or worse... a zinger putting people into their place.

I have also been known to bring people to an emotionally tender place, then I LIGHTEN THE MOMENT with something funny, because I wasn't sure where to go from there.

The thing all this has in common is once it's "out there" there's no taking it back.

Can you remember something someone said to you that hurt you deeply? Perhaps when you were young? I can.

Can you remember saying something to someone that hurt THEM deeply and you really do wish you could take it back? Unfortunately...

I once said something to a family member, who was in the hospital, long, long ago. More than half a lifetime ago, actually. I commented about what was on the tv in their room. 

Divorce Court.

Something to the effect of "Wow, nothing like being sick in the hospital and watching Divorce Court..." (DRIPPING with sarcasm...)

I have relived that moment over and over and over again over the years. Sometimes I'll be driving somewhere and that will pop into my head and I still think, "What an idiot!" Not kicking myself... just still regret ever having said something so ignorant and un-compassionate.

Sure wish I could turn back time 25+ years and take that back. Wish I could slap that guy upside the head immediately following the uttering of those words and say, "What would ever make you say something like that?? How unkind and thoughtless can you be?? Just how self-righteous CAN you be??" About THAT much, apparently...

I CAN say at have at least tried to learn from my mistakes... and I am WAY, WAY, WAY more self-aware than I used to be. And I've now had enough practice that I can say I am pretty good at making things right when I do blow it.

I have found, a little humility... a little sincerity... and being a little more guarded goes a long way to avoiding (or repairing) these kind of situations.

If I could turn back time?

Sigh...

Geography has nothing to do with where I am.

Every two weeks, the blogosphere comes alive with something called a Blog Off. A Blog Off is an event where bloggers of every stripe weigh in on the same topic on the same day. The topic for this round of the Blog Off is "What are you looking forward to this year?"

It’s a new year. Just like with every year, January brings with it the promise of a new way to go about doing things and a new way to look about life as you know it.

I was perusing my twitter feed on New Year’s Day... One woman posted, “Funny how we view New Year’s Day like it’s a chalkboard that allows us to erase last year and give a fresh start… when really it’s just another day.” Interesting thought.

I’m not big on resolutions. Especially when it’s just because it’s the new year. Don’t get me wrong… It is an opportune time to evaluate, to look back and to look ahead, to reflect and do some soul searching.

Frankly, I do enough soul searching. Almost daily. I’m not one given to DEEP introspection… I just take life a day at a time and reflect along the way.

I performed three memorial services in one week, two weeks ago. That will cause anyone to consider the direction of their life and its possible outcome. I often wonder if anything I do REALLY matters. Not in a poor-me kind of way… but in a way that keeps my head and my heart both headed in the same direction. Showing up is easy. Showing up for the right reasons is a different matter. I can be there geographically, but my heart can be a million miles away. Know what I mean?

I know what I want my life to be about. I’ve got a pretty good idea of who I am and who I want to become… even what I want to be remembered for, and I work toward that in an intentional way.

I know at times, that kind of focus has been at the expense of my family. It takes a lot of effort for me to stay “fully present” in any situation, especially as it relates to what I’m doing right now. (Blogging, social media, facebook and twitter updates, FourSquare check-ins, pics for twitpic, etc, etc, etc.) It’s so easy for me to be busy recording my life, my every move, that I can miss what’s happening around me.

My two daughters (19 and 22) busted me on this one time. The three of us were going to a breakfast café in Dayton, when I pulled out my iPhone to check in, take a pic of the sign, my pancakes, etc, they said, “Are you going to be with US?” My daughter put her hand on my phone, almost begging me to stop. Lesson learned. Sort of...

I still fight this battle every day. This is how I live life. I see life through the lens of my iPhone and I like sharing those moments with others. The tension is my family wants me to share those moments with THEM.

This idea of being fully present in any situation is what I’m working on in 2012. To be fully present and “in the moment” regardless of what that moment is. To give my best to whatever I am doing and to whoever I am with. To give my full attention.

Squirrel!

It's the American Way...

This is America...

You can have whatever you can afford. And then some...

Don't worry, I'm not going to launch into a political rant about how the current administration has added more to our national debt than all previous administrations combined. (Albeit largely due to a war passed down by the previous administration...) Not to mention a hurting economy with 8.6% unemployment. In actuality it's 11%, since people whose benefits run out are not included in those numbers.

According to CBS News, the national debt was $10.6 trillion when President Obama took office. It is now over $15 trillion. And we add nearly $4 billion dollars in new debt per day. EVERY DAY...

Growing up, I never knew it was possible to change the oil in your car yourself. My dad and I would head down to the local Sunoco station and get a pop as we watched them put our old Pontiac wagon up on the lift. That's how we got an oil change. I never knew some people actually did it themselves. The same would be true of drywall and painting, or fixing just about anything else around the house.

It wasn't until my twenties that a friend took me under their wing to teach me how to do such things. I'm still not very good at most things like that, but I have learned a few things along the way.

What's my point? I have always paid others to do things I could have done myself. Wish I had known it was even possible to do those things myself... Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming anyone. Getting that oil change is one of my fondest childhood memories. It involves an old-school Pepsi machine at that Sunoco station. The kind that had 16 oz. glass bottles... when you yanked on the bottle, if it didn't come out, it would leave little cuts on your hand from the cap tearing at your flesh! Remember that?

I'm all for capitalism. I was self employed for six years after having worked in several different advertising agencies in my early career. I did a budget for each project based upon an estimated number of hours at my hourly rate. I never charged for changes (if I made them.) And if it took fewer hours than estimated, it worked out to my advantage. They never complained because I rarely went over budget.

I have never minded paying people to do things that needed done, whether I could do them myself or not. Everyone needs to earn a living. I'm happy to pay someone to change the oil in my car or paint my house. Even if it's so I don't have to do it. They should get paid for their work. Seems reasonable to me.

Not sure why people get so bent out of shape because of big box retailers like Walmart. They buy products cheap and sell them at reasonable prices. They employ two million people internationally, with more than one million of them being in the U.S. I know they have taken a lot of heat for certain business practices... discriminatory practices, etc, but make no mistake, Walmart is here to stay. The retailer we love to hate.

(After you're finished reading this, read Paul Anatar's take on Walmart... Well worth the read, he makes the point beautifully about the downside of Walmart.)

I was thinking about the statement, "You get what you pay for." I'm not sure that's always true. Sometimes you get more, but more often than not, you get less... right? We look for the best deals on the best products. And where do we go for it? Yup... often times it's Walmart.

I love supporting local businesses. I have a facebook page that I admin called I Love Dayton! There are several local coffee houses that I frequent and promote regularly. Press, The Ohio Coffee Co. and Ghostlight.

But then there's Starbucks...

The evil-corporate-giant-Walmart of coffee houses... That we love to hate.



Every two weeks, the blogosphere comes alive with something called a Blog Off. A Blog Off is an event where bloggers of every stripe weigh in on the same topic on the same day. The topic for this round of the Blog Off is "If you can't afford the tip, you can't afford the meal."

What Wood You Do?

One of my favorite things in life is building a fire in my fireplace.
I love the atmosphere it creates and the warmth it provides.
And that smell... You can almost smell it right now, can't you?

As I held the log I was about to toss on the fire, I paused...
and began to think about that block of wood.

When one person sees a tree, they are inspired to paint or
take a picture... or write a poem...

Trees

By Joyce Kilmer

Ansel Adams' Oak Tree Sunrise

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth 
Is prest against 
The earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

... Not me. I'm not that inspired.

I use certain types of wood in my Ugly Drum Smoker to add flavor to the meat (mainly hickory and apple wood.)

That same tree may provide shelter from a storm or a shady place
to rest on a hot summer's day.

Depending on the type of tree, we may harvest nuts or fruit from it.

Another person sees lumber for construction.

Still another person sees a future sheet of paper, or even a shipment of chop sticks. (Did you know two million chop sticks produced in GEORGIA are shipped to China EVERY DAY!?)

A grampa may carve a train set for their grand child. Another turns a beautiful gavel to indicate when judgment has been rendered.

I am not the most philosophical person you will ever meet. I rarely ponder the log I am about to toss onto my fire. But I did this time.

Perhaps I should do more pondering...

The most recent Let's BlogOff topic... Taking a deeper second look at what appears to be an everyday common object or occurrence where something happens that makes you look at it in a different light. It could be an object, person or place. Or something entirely different.

Thanksgiving = Dishes

With ALLLLLL the great memories that I have about Thanksgivings-past... when asked about my most memorable memory, here's what comes to mind...

(Gosh, I really, really, REALLY wish that one of my other memorable memories would top THIS ONE!)

But they don't... Can't. Never will. Ain't possible. Just the way it is...

When asked about Thanksgivings-past... when asked about my most memorable memory, here's what comes to mind... 

I remember one time when I was a kid, maybe 10 or 11, I was assigned dish duty after the meal on Thanksgiving. I don't recall having done anything so heinous to have deserved THAT level of punishment. Whatever happened to the punishment fitting the crime anyway? I swear to you, it FELT like a life sentence of doing dishes. I'm talkin' old school, dish by dish by dish, a-fork-at-a-time, glass after glass, pan-scrapin' dish-doin'. 

You've GOT to be kidding me... right?

I kid you not... the dishes kept coming. Stack after stack after stack after glass after glass. And, yes... fork after fork after fork.

You get the idea.

When asked about Thanksgivings-past... when asked about my most memorable memory, THAT'S what comes to mind.

To this day, when I walk into the kitchen and see dishes (no matter how many) I think of THAT day. (Perhaps it's time to get a little counseling?) I seriously think it affected me. Deeply. 

I love to cook. I "tidy-up" my messes, rinse things off, stack them ever so neatly next to or in the sink. But honestly, finishing the job is very hard for me, and I think it all has to do with THAT day, lo those many years ago.

I could have written about my fondest memories of family coming into town or that life-changing piece of still-warm pumpkin pie smothered in Cool Whip... I could rant about how much I HATE pepper in corn. (Just open the can. Couple slabs of butter and some SALT!) I could go on and on and on about how my step mother ruined my life by putting pepper in the corn EVERY TIME SHE MADE IT. (Side note... I don't mind it now, and it even sort of brings a smile to my face... sort of.)

I could tell you all about our crazy family... how we could entertain for days on the Jerry Springer show... 

I could go person by person, going into great detail about their quirks and oddities, yet somehow, through it all, we came out the other side, still loving each other. And how, now our family dinners include L O N G epic games of Phase 10. I'm talkin' for blood... 

I could tell you about how last Christmas I completely hosed one of our friends, knowing she was about to go out and how my wife needed ONE card and she could go out and win IF she got that ONE card. I had no idea what it was... but I had a WILD card. And I discarded it for my wife to pick up, play it and go out. I hosed my friend, but my wife loves me now more than ever! lol

But no... my most memorable memory is doing the dishes.

Sigh...

Having said all that, here's my recipe for after-Thanksgiving Turkey Noodle Soup. It's MY recipe that developed over years. It's simple... not quick, but not hard. It's VERY tasty and will last you for a few days. Add some good bread, a salad and a piece of that pumpkin pie with Cool Whip on it and you'll thank me later! Simply click on the pic of the recipe and hit print!

When I grow up...

What did I want to be when I grew up?

Batman?!

Nope.

I wanted to be...
"Robin: The Boy Wonder!"

(Batman was old and pudgy!)

When I was 15 I went on a weekend church retreat. I remember sitting around the campfire late into the night... I asked my youth leader, Dave, (who recently passed away...) "How is God ever going to use me in advertising?" I thought maybe I would work at a Christian magazine?

What I didn't realize all those years ago is that God just wanted me to be a person of faith, walking out life a step at a time. I worked at several ad agencies over my 15 year advertising career, including six of those years self-employed... as my friend Doug and I were starting "a pretty good church."

I knew as a kid, no matter how much I loved animals, that I couldn't handle the years of college to become a veterinarian. No matter how much I loved baseball, that I didn't have the skills to play professionally, or even college ball for that matter. (But I DID once pitch a two-hitter... when I was 12.)

My dad wanted me to become a State Farm agent... He retired after 43 years in the business. I can remember the day I broke the news to him that I wanted to go to art school. I just KNOW the words "STARVING ARTIST" appeared over my head. And I'm sure he thought I would end up selling velvet Elvis paintings at some abandoned gas station.

Not an astronaut, not a policeman, not president... An artist? Go figure.

To his credit, he supported me and sent me to one of the best art schools in the country, the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. I graduated and went on to have a fairly successful career. Much to my father's surprise, I'm sure.

But I never stopped viewing myself as "The Boy Wonder!" I just kind of like the idea of being THAT!

When I grow up...