When Daddy Let Me Drive

Not too long ago, I remember seeing a commercial for an insurance company...Or car company...Or something totally unrelated.  I'm not really sure what the topic was.  But, in any event, the premise of the commercial was a young guy picking up a girl for what we are to assume is prom.  He pulls up to the curb, where she's standing waiting.  He leans across the interior of the car to open the passenger door so she can get in, at which point he stops her, awkwardly shakes his head as he points to her shoes, and she removes them as she gets in the car, obviously annoyed.  I'm not going to spend time dissecting all that is wrong with that from a chivalry standpoint, because that isn't why I brought it up.  But, do know that I am aware of it.

No, the reason I draw your attention to that commercial is because I think we all, at one point or another, know someone that obsesses over cars.  They wash them almost daily, on down to the point of almost combing the floor boards looking for the smallest speck of dirt.  The car is always waxed, and kept in pristine condition.  I'm not saying that's a bad thing...You should take good care of your stuff, especially something as expensive as a car.  But, there's no question some people take it just a bit too far.

My dad teeters on the brink of being one of those people.  Dad has always worked hard for what he's been able to accomplish in life, and when he dumps thousands of dollars into anything, he takes extraordinarily good care of it.  Whether it's a car, truck, lawnmower, bicycle, or anything else...He takes care of his stuff.  No question about it.  And while it's nothing for him to wash his and mom's vehicles twice a week during the summer, he's nowhere nearly as obsessive about his truck as the individual I described above.

He saved that obsession for his boat.

Literally for as long as I can remember, my parents have had a boat.  They started out with an old poop brown and yellow pontoon that just screamed of the 1970s.  Of course, I can't complain...I'd give my left arm for a boat of my own, even if it were that exact same boat reincarnated.  I'd take it.  Just check out that beautiful interior:

Mom and Dad ended up selling that one and upgrading to an old Mark Twain runabout that we had until I was about 7 or 8 years old.  I don't really remember much about it except one time when we were crossing the lake, we came upon a line of barge waves and a wall of water came rushing in over the nose, completely drenching the boat, and everything in it.

Now, Dad's obsession with caring for his boat was almost assuredly present during the time my parents had those boats, but I was so young I don't remember it.  But, when Dad came home with The Bat Boat, all that changed.  And for good reason...It was a sharp, sharp boat.  I remember multiple times when people would idle up next to us and offer to buy the thing on the spot.  It was beautiful, and unique, and kept in like-new condition from day one.

I suppose I wasn't fully aware of his obsessive-compulsive behavior in regards to the boat until I was in high school...When I first started to get the nerve to ask if I could take it out by myself.  Of course, I might as well have been asking Dad if I could go to the moon, and I don't blame him.  I sure wouldn't trust a 16-year-old kid, even my own son, with my boat.  But, after a couple years of chipping away at him, he finally gave in.  And I remember that day very well.

I was 17, we were camping at Hillman Ferry, and Dad and I had already been out on the boat that day.  I don't know exactly where they were, but Mom and Lensey weren't with us.  One of my friends had shown up that afternoon, and since the boat was already in the water, I asked Dad if I could take it out for another hour or two.  And, by some miraculous act of God, he said yes.  I was so excited I could hardly contain myself.  And I'll never forget the last thing he said to me as he pushed us away from the dock..."It better come back exactly the way it left."  Come on, Dad...What could happen in an hour?

Knowing that any hopes I had of ever taking the boat out again after that hinged solely on my ability to get it back without so much as a speck of dirt, and I intended on making sure that happened.  We drove two bays down to the Rock Quarry, puttered around for a few minutes, and then made our way back.  The journey lasted no more than 45 minutes, but I didn't want to press my luck.  I figured the longer I stayed out, the more likely I was to screw something up.

I turned the corner of the bay, pulled back smoothly on the throttle as the boat lost its plane, and slowed to a beautiful idle.  I had made it back, safe and sound.  I could already hear Dad heaping praise on his only son for taking a major step towards manhood.  "Hell, take it out all weekend if you want to!" I could hear him say.  I was floating on air...I was on top of the world!

Then I was crashing to the floor as the backrest on the driver's seat collapsed.

I lay in the floor, momentarily paralyzed.  I looked up at my friend as if to say, "What the hell happened?"  He looked back at me with a puzzled, worried look as if to say, "I have no idea!"  I was frantic.  I looked everywhere for some kind of solution...What in the world had happened?!  One minute everything was fine, and the next there were wet, rotted wood fragments sprayed all over the floor.  The wooden support where the driver's seat and passenger seat's crests meet back-to-back had completely pulled apart...Screws were sticking out on either side, and the seats refused to stay standing up.  Not only could I see my daydream plummeting into darkness, I could see my life doing the same thing.

I know Dad had to have sensed my despair.  I was an absolute wreck, trying to explain what had happened both without having any explanation to offer, and not having any question solicited by him.  The type of explanation that immediately makes someone appear guilty.  He tried to calm me down and told me he'd look at it when we got back to the campsite, but it was no use...I knew I'd probably never get to even look at the boat again, much less drive it alone.

It just didn't seem fair.  I had asked Dad to take the boat out dozens of times before, and the first time he lets me, I practically destroy two seats and have no earthly clue how I did it.  I was deliberate in every movement I made.  I had taken every precaution.  I was more careful than any normal human being should be.  And none of it mattered.  As I approached the campsite, returning from the shower house, I saw Dad pop up from inside the boat.  The verdict was in.

"I just need to replace the wood back here.  It's just rotted through...Was going to happen sooner or later, anyway...Don't worry about it."

I could practically see the clouds part, and hear a chorus of "Hallelujah" reverberate down from the hills.  There was hope.  It wasn't my fault!  Dad told me not to worry, and he didn't make a big deal out of it at all.  He let me take the boat out by myself a bunch of times after that.  And, as my friends can attest, I was a drill-sergeant when it came to keeping it clean. J-Bird doesn't mess around, I'd constantly remind them.

My dad loved that boat, and the care he put toward it illustrated that fact.  But, as Lensey and I grew older and grew tired of skiing and wakeboarding, the need for more room became apparent and they sold it to my cousin and her husband a few years later.  Dad had taken such good care of it, it hardly depreciated at all.  They bought a nice pontoon, which they still have.

The first time Dad let me take the pontoon out, I was met with a laminated folder of typed instructions on every step I had to take prior to launch, and upon my return.  Step-by-step, he laid out every plausible scenario from a spare battery, to where the bimini top straps were located.  It told me which rope was used to tie the front and back to the dock.  It even provided instructions on how to operate the radio.  It was, to be frank, a little ridiculous.  But, a perfect example of just how thorough he can be in assuring his investments last.

It took me a little longer than he would have hoped to inherit that trait.  He made Lensey and I keep our bikes clean when we were kids.  He was constantly on me about washing my car or getting the oil changed.  He'd always say something like, "If you want to trash your car, then you can start paying for it."  And when I bought my truck a couple of years ago, I understood exactly what he meant.

Buying a boat is at the top of mine and Adrienne's wish list.  And while I probably won't have typed and laminated instructions stored under a seat, I'm sure I'll do my dad proud in taking care of it.

This Isn't the Tin Lizzies at Opryland...It's a Wal-Mart

I am by no means a perfect person.  I've never claimed to be, nor have I ever even thought I was.  My self-awareness is such that I know I have faults, and plenty of them.  With that being said, though, I have always considered myself to be a pretty good guy.  I'm usually friendly, or at least cordial, to people I meet.  I'm easy-going, for the most part, and can get along well with a wide variety of different people.  I possess most of the skills and characteristics attributable to basic human decency, and often will go out of my way to avoid confrontation.  Not necessarily because I'm afraid of it, but more because I look at it as a, in most cases, needless inconvenience that usually accomplishes nothing.  Obviously, that's not always true, but if it were too far off-point, then the old adage "don't sweat the small stuff" would have never been coined.  I'm sure there are people that have had nasty things to say about me, and I'm sure I have rubbed some people the wrong way at one point or another...But that's life.  When you meet roughly 80,000-100,000 different people in your lifetime (obviously far from exact research points to that), it is bound to happen.

I try to give most people the benefit of the doubt.  I may sit around with my wife and constantly make instantaneous judgements about weirdos we see on television, but I don't do that in real life.  Most of the interactions we have with people outside of school, work, family, and friends, last a few seconds or minutes.  So it's logistically impossible to make any kind of real assertion about the type of person they may be.

That is, of course, assuming those fleeting interactions don't include the other person doing one of these things:

1. Not allowing people to cut in line at the checkout counter when their transaction will take less than 30 seconds.  I was at Dollar General the other day to pick up two items: a half gallon of milk, and a bag of dog food.  I wandered up to the small line that had formed at the checkout line, and took my place behind a woman with  shopping cart full of roughly $100 worth of stuff.  Seeing as we were at the Dollar General, you can imagine just how much stuff she actually had.  As I took my place in line, she turned and looked at him, glanced down at the two items I was holding, then turned back around and began placing her items on the counter.  I instantly became furious.  Now, I know I shouldn't really be all that angry...I don't know how long she had been standing in line herself.  But, I do know that if the roles were reversed, I would have allowed her to cut me in line knowing that my transaction would take five times as long as hers.  Stuff like that just irritates the hell out of me.

2. Being a rude employee.  I wasn't present for this particular incident, but my wife called me with a string of obscenities shortly after it took place, so I will just relay her story.  She was feeling a little under the weather on Saturday, so she decided to go pick up some Mucinex-D at the pharmacy.  The first place required her to have a prescription...No big deal.  She had other errands to run, so she figured she'd just make another stop.  So, she decided to go to Wal-Mart's pharmacy instead.  There were two or three other customers in front of her, and she stood patiently in line waiting for them to pick up their respective prescriptions.  When she approached the window, the pharmacist looked at her (with no other customers waiting behind her) and said, "We're going to lunch.  You'll have to come back in 30 minutes."  Now, I understand that large corporations like Wal-Mart can be extremely strict when it comes to break times, but would taking an extra minute and a half on the clock really hurt anything?  I know one customer that won't ever be back to that pharmacy because of it.  Not that Wal-Mart really cares...But it's the principle.

3. Being an inconsiderate patron.  When I worked at InTouch Communications in Glasgow, our store hours were 9-7 Monday through Friday, and 9-5 on Saturday.  Almost without exception, we would be absolutely dead for an hour or more before closing...Until around 6:58.  People would walk up to the door, read the store hours, look at their watch, and stroll in saying, "Y'all still open?"  Well, technically we are still open...For two more minutes.  But, sure, I'd love to help you open 3 new lines and stay until 8:30.  I mean, it's not like you didn't have 10 other hours throughout the day to come in here.  It never failed...If someone came in 5 minutes til close, it was never a quick thing.  Drove me absolutely nuts.  I understand that people are busy and have other obligations, but you wouldn't want me coming to your place of work to make you stay longer than you've already been there.  If I had to get a new phone, I would make the time to go during normal business hours...You know, like a decent human being...Not 90 seconds before the place closes, forcing the staff to stay.  And even more than that, we'd turn off the lights, lock the doors, and have customers come up and bang on the door...After closing time.  I guess some folks just don't get it.

4. Blocking the entire aisle or exit at a store.  This one never fails to happen when you are in a hurry.  Like after a long day at work, you just want to get home and fire up the grill because it's beautiful outside and you've spent the entire day cooped up inside, but you know you need some hamburger buns and ketchup and nothing else.  You practically sprint down to the bread aisle, grab the buns, make a quick Barry Sanders-esque spin move and find yourself blocked in on either side by two shoppers completely oblivious to anything or anyone around them.  If you go right, you'll run right into an overweight woman and her two unruly children acting like total idiots.  If you go left, you're face-down in a cart filled with frozen pizzas and Old Milwaukee cases.  Neither person makes even the slightest effort to move to one side or the other and you're forced to play that "I'll go this way, you go that way, no, I'll go that way, you go this way" game with a total stranger.  You finally squeeze by one of them (they still haven't moved), knocking Bunny Bread loaves off the shelves along the way, pay for your items, and then get behind the lady pushing two carts, while trying to simultaneously write out a text and put her wallet back in her purse.  Completely unaware of you, or anyone else, they finally notice your presence just after walking outside.  You're already out of earshot by the time they say, "Oh, I'm sorry."  You're not the only person in the store.

Ok...I feel better.  Have a great day.

I'd Like You to Meet Some of My Friends: Meat, Micky, and Hootie

Everyone has different tastes and interests.  And most people, as they grow older, find that those interests evolve and change as much as our bodies do.  For as long as I can remember, or at least for as long as I was able to do it, writing has always been one of mine.  I kept a journal when I was 8 years old (which I still have, by the way) and I actually wrote pretty consistently.  Later on, I would dabble in keeping a journal from time to time, but, in most cases, my entries were so few and far between, they didn't carry much significance.  My 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Shelton, really encouraged me to write, and provided extensive guidance when I was completing my writing portfolio at that time.  I had a creative writing class in 6th grade that I absolutely loved, and still remember dozens of short stories I started but never completed.  I even enjoyed writing papers when I was in college.  There's no question that, in most cases, I BS'ed my way through them, but when I was truly interested in the topic, I dove in full bore.

That is what drove me to start this blog in the first place.  I never had any intention of keeping a pure focus with this except a love for writing.  Sometimes an idea for a post will hit me like a gale force wind blowing in front of a line of storms, and other times the mood to write will strike without any semblance of an idea whatsoever.  Those times can be frustrating.  Times like right now.

I was sitting here wanting to write something, but any glimmer of an idea I came up with sounded like total crap.  Even as I write this now, I'm thinking to myself, "Isn't this crap?  Who would want to read this rambling, nonsensical junk?"  But, by this point, you've already committed.  You've wasted at least a minute of your day, and obviously had the time to kill by clicking on this link in the first place.  You might as well read to the end.

So, I did a quick Google search for blog ideas, and came across a list of 101 Blog Post Ideas.  A couple dozen of the post ideas caught my eye, but many of them would require entirely too much thought and, quite frankly, I don't have the time or energy to put that much focus into it right now.  So I'll save those for other days.  For now, I decided on one that simply said, "If you were stranded on a desert island, name ten _____ you would take with you."

Now, I'm sure virtually all of you reading this have played that game at one time or another.  If you're on a long road trip, or stuck in a waiting room, or just bored and need something to kill time, you've played it.  It's always interesting to hear people's responses to it, too.  It provides you with some insight you might not have had, even with people you know very well.

For this, I decided I would identify the 10 music albums I would take with me, and explain each choice.  I did have a couple of ground rules, though: while greatest hits albums are okay, compilation albums with a variety of artists (like the Now! series) are off limits.  It makes it more difficult and more fun to keep those out of the equation.  So, without further ado, and in no particular order, my 10 stranded-on-a-desert-island albums are:

 1. Boston: Greatest Hits
Release Date: June 3, 1997
Favorite Cuts: "Foreplay/Long Time", "Cool the Engines", "Rock and Roll Band"
I have no shame in admitting that Boston is one of my all-time favorite bands.  While most of their material is easily type-cast (you know Boston as soon as you hear it), there is something about the similarity in all their songs that makes them irresistible to me.  While many artists will try to evolve and expand their sound, Boston never really did that.  They had a formula that worked, stuck with it, and I say God bless them for it.  Their distinct sound is due to Tom Scholz's hand-made Rockman amplifier, which revolutionized the capabilities of electric guitars and was emulated by rock royalty like Journey, ZZ Top, Queen, and others.  He (along with Queen's Brian May) were pioneers in harmonizing multiple-layered guitars in the studio, and it gives Boston their unique sound.  I'd expect nothing less from an MIT graduate.  I don't love every Boston song, but this compilation has all the necessities comprised, mostly, of their earlier stuff.

2. Yourself or Someone Like You - Matchbox 20
Release Date: October 1, 1996
Favorite Cuts: "Long Day", "Kody", "Hang" 
In my opinion, this is one of the best albums of the 1990s, although it is rarely mentioned or remembered by most people.  I don't like music for it's revolutionary style, or it's artistic integrity.  In all reality, you won't really find it here.  In the late 90s, Matchbox 20 (now Matchbox Twenty) was little more than a glorified garage band.  But, that doesn't take away from the fact this is one of the few albums I can play from start to finish without getting bored, even after listening to it from start to finish about a thousand times.  The grittiness of this album was lost to later, more extensively produced entries in the MB20 catalog, and therein lies much of it's attractiveness.  The lyrics are real and relatable, the hooks are catchy, and the album flows fantastically.

3. I and Love and You - The Avett Brothers
Release Date: September 29, 2009
Favorite Cuts: "And It Spread", "Kick Drum Heart", "Laundry Room", "It Goes On and On" 
The newest album on the list, I discovered these guys through Adrienne and Liza a couple of years ago, right after Adrienne and I started dating.  When I first heard them, I wasn't really all that impressed.  I liked a couple of their more uptempo tunes, but found most of it to be too slow and boring for my taste...Until I saw the band live.  They put on one of the more energetic and entertaining live shows you will ever see, but do it without pyrotechnics or half-naked women dancing on stage.  They stand on stage, play their instruments, and let the music do the talking.  Whether you've ever heard them or not, it's impossible not to have fun when you watch them perform.  And after doing so, listening to the albums takes on a totally different meaning.  While I enjoy virtually their entire catalog, and while this particular album is really their first "sell-out" record, it's probably my favorite by the band.  It starts a bit slow (tempo-wise), crescendos in the middle, and closes perfectly.  Again, an album that can be listened to non-stop from start to finish where, like watching a movie a dozen times, you always seem to catch something you had missed previously.

 4. Take Off Your Pants and Jacket - Blink 182
Release Date: June 12, 2001
Favorite Cuts: "Online Songs", "Roller Coaster", "Everytime I Look for You", "Shut Up"


The sophomoric innuendo in the album's title aside, I'm not embarrassed to have this included in my list.  You will never find Blink-182 listed on a "greatest bands" list, and you really shouldn't under any circumstances.  They actually aren't that good.  But, in the summer of 2001, DJ and I absolutely wore this album out to the point where hardly a day went by without it getting at least one listen.  For me, though, the significance of this album doesn't come from the artistic merit it brings to the table.  In fact, it doesn't really bring any at all.  The significance lies in the memories it spurs each time I hear one of the songs.  It's a very catchy record, and good in it's own simple, immature way.  But, just like a family heirloom or favorite old t-shirt, it sticks with me for sentimental purposes only.

 5. Garth Brooks: The Ultimate Hits
Release Date: November 6, 2007
Favorite Cuts: "Shameless", "Callin' Baton Rouge", "Much Too Young (To Feel This Damn Old)"
One thing that makes my music collection enjoyable is how eclectic and mixed up it is.  There are songs from all different genres, eras, and artists and when I hit shuffle on my iTunes, I truly don't know what is going to be coming.  I knew if I were going to have any country (which I would have to), I had to have some Garth.  But trying to decide which studio album to choose would be practically impossible.  I understand compilations might be cheating to a degree, but I don't care.  Garth deserves a two-disc set, and by God, I'm taking it with me. He revolutionized country music forever, beginning in the early 1990s, and every male artist that has come after him has tried, and failed miserably, to emulate his voice and stage presence.  He was able to tackle song choices that were both interesting and controversial, but he did it with style and for a period from about 1990 to 1996, nobody could touch Garth Brooks.

6. Bat Out of Hell - Meat Loaf
Release Date: October 21, 1977
Favorite Cuts: "Bat Out of Hell", "You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth", "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad"
I understand that Meat Loaf is extremely eccentric, and am fully aware that most of his music fails to strike a chord with mainstream music fans, but that doesn't mean I don't think his major-label debut isn't awesome.  The album almost plays as a rock-opera, with most of the tracks exceeding 5 minutes in length, a far cry from most popular music.  And, although I think he's a lyrical genius, I can easily see why some people would find Jim Steinman's songwriting a bit over the top.  But, despite it's inherent weirdness, and despite the fact that Meat Loaf himself fits absolutely none of the stereotypes attributable to a pop star, Bat Out of Hell has sold more than 43 million copies worldwide since it's release, and still moves about 200,000 units every year.  It is anything but normal, but when you couple one of the greatest rock singers of all time with an outstanding, and under-appreciated songwriter, the results are going to be good.  And Bat Out of Hell is damn good.

7. From Under the Cork Tree - Fall Out Boy
Release Date: May 3, 2005
Favorite Cuts: "Dance, Dance", "Sugar, We're Going Down", "I Slept With Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me" 
I'm sure many of you out there are thinking "Fall Out Boy?  What the hell?"  And I know...I get it.  I'm just as disappointed in me as you are.  But I can't help it.  Part of it is sentimental...Until the newest Avett Brothers album came out in September, this was the last CD I had bought at a store.  Going to FYE or Disc Jockey in the mall used to be one of my favorite things to do, and I guess this album was kind of my last connection to those bygone days.  But, despite the poppy, teenage-angst that permeates throughout, these guys are much more creative and clever than many of their contemporaries.  Patrick Stump has a very distinct voice that, while a tad annoying at times, I really like.  The songwriting is solid, the lyrics are smart without being pretentious, and the album has some of the catchiest hooks you will ever hear.

 8.  Careless - Micky and the Motorcars
Release Date: May 9, 2006
Favorite Cuts: "Desperation", "Rock Springs to Cheyenne", "Remember" 
I wouldn't necessarily say that this is one of my favorite albums of all time, but my mentality is I'm going to be on a desert island.  I better have some variety in my music selection, or I'm going to go crazy.  That's why I picked this album.  Micky and the Motorcars are a fairly unknown act outside of Texas, but are extremely popular in the alternative Texas-Country scene.  They're the perfect blend of southern rock...A little Lynyrd Skynyrd (not too much), a touch of Chris LeDoux, with just a pinch of Bad Company thrown in.  The songwriting is outstanding, and lead-singer Micky Braun has an extremely distinctive voice that you won't forget after hearing it the first time.  He sings with the perfect amount of twang, and mumbles just enough to remain coherent, while still keeping you guessing at times.  The band doesn't hesitate to write depressing material, but they do so in an extremely relatable way.  If you're ever in a bit of a sour mood, or just feel like sitting alone and drinking away a bad day, these guys are the perfect accompaniment.  They're not going to win any awards for putting a smile on your face, but during those times when you're miserable and want some music that speaks to that, you can't go wrong with Micky and the Motorcars.

9. Cracked Rear View - Hootie & the Blowfish
 Release Date: July 5, 1994
Favorite Cuts: "Hannah Jane", "Let Her Cry", "I'm Goin' Home"
If you were of age enough to remember listening to the radio in 1994 and 1995, then you know Hootie & the Blowfish.  And you know them well.  It was virtually impossible to turn on the radio, for really over a year, without hearing "Hold My Hand" or "I Only Wanna Be With You" within ten minutes.  Extensive radio play, coupled with an incredibly unique singer in Darius Rucker (who's proven that he can succeed across a wide range of musical genres) proved to be too much for the American public to handle.  Cracked Rear View is the 15th best-selling album of all time in the United States, and is highly regarded as one of the best albums of the 1990s.  And for good reason.  I got the cassette for Christmas in 1995, and never once had to fast-forward through a song.  It is great from start to finish, and touches on virtually every emotion at some point or another.  I liked the album so much, I got the CD for Christmas a few years later, and still have it to this day.  I might not listen to it as much anymore, but I know I could put it on now and not even begin to get tired of it.  Hootie's follow-ups were never as successful as their debut, but when you release a gem like Cracked Rear View right out of the gate, you're setting the bar pretty damn high.

10. Back in Black - AC/DC
Release Date: July 25, 1980
Favorite Cuts: "Back in Black", "Have a Drink on Me", "Shoot to Thrill"
As I was trying to finish up my list, I noticed two things: 1, I didn't have any music from the 1980s, which is arguably my favorite decade for music, and 2, I didn't have any music that could really get me amped up if I were going to kill some time doing pushups or crunches while bored to tears on a desert island.  So, I went with this classic by one of the all-time great rock bands, AC/DC.  I wouldn't really consider myself a huge AC/DC fan...I'd never pay money to see them live (unless I could travel back in time to the mid-80s).  But, like Boston, AC/DC has consistently delivered hit after hit over the years, and you know exactly what you are going to get any time you put on an AC/DC record.  While their earlier stuff with Bon Scott on vocals is often regarded as their finest material, Back in Black is the band's highest-selling album of all-time.  It hits hard from the outset and stays at a fever pitch throughout.  You won't find anything truly remarkable about it, but that's never really been AC/DC's modus operandi.  What you will find is hard-hitting riff after hard-hitting riff, instantly recognizable simplistic rhythms, and the gritty screech of Brian Johnson that has become a trademark of their work.  I know, at some point, I'd get the urge to rock out and do a poor impersonation of Angus Young's duck walk, and neither would be as enjoyable as they would without some AC/DC blaring in the background.

There are a ton of albums I thought deeply about including here, because there are so many to choose from.  I feel a little bad for not having any Led Zeppelin on the list, but it's mainly because Zeppelin is so hit or miss...While some of their songs are timeless classics, others are way too eccentric for my taste.  As Wayne Campbell put it in Wayne's World, "Led Zeppelin didn't write tunes that everybody liked...They left that to the Bee Gees."  They do have greatest hits compilations out there, but my favorite Zeppelin tune, "The Wanton Song" isn't on it.  And none of their studio albums are good enough, start to finish, to warrant taking along to a desert island, with the only close exception being Led Zeppelin IV.  They're still one of the best bands of all time, though, and I'd bet, if I were stranded on a desert island, I'd miss being unable to get the Led out every once in a while.  Collateral damage, I suppose.

So, that's my list of the 10 albums I'd take with me on a desert island.  My love of music made choosing only 10 a very difficult task, but if push came to shove, I'd feel pretty good about my selections.  There's a decent variety of genres and musical eras, so I don't think I'd get too bored.  And there's something for just about every mood one might find.  So, the question is...What 10 albums would you take?

If You Can't Find Something To Do, I'll Find Something For You

Christmas morning of 1990, Lensey and I awoke to find a Nintendo Entertainment System, complete with Super Mario Brothers, Duck Hunt, and Tetris, among our gifts.  While the system itself had been released in the U.S. for five years already, we thought it was brand new and the coolest thing that had ever been created.  I remember spending hours shooting computer-generated ducks, and getting frustrated when that stupid dog laughed at me for missing a couple of shots in a row.  And according to them, even Mom and Dad got in on the fun...They've said they would stay up hours after Lensey and I went to bed playing Super Mario Brothers, and we all sat in awe watching my cousin Brian beat the entire game in about five minutes.  For better or for worse, it truly was a revolutionary product.

That being said, my parents made certain Lensey and I didn't abuse the privilege.  We weren't allowed to play video games during the day, with the only exception being bad weather or a few minutes before we left for school.  And it wasn't until a couple of years later that we got our own TV, which was relegated to Lensey's bedroom (she was the oldest).  When we got our first Gameboy, the same rules applied.  In all reality, Mom played the Gameboy way more than we ever did...She played Tetris on it up until just a few years ago, when the device finally quit working altogether after 15 years of road trips and power outages.

While I consider myself to be fairly technologically savvy, I'm no tech-nerd.  I don't have to have the newest and best technological devices...I usually get ones that have essentially become obsolete, due to the swift-moving nature of technology today.  But they're always cheaper, and, for all intents and purposes, perform any task I could conceivably ask them to.  And even as much as I'd like to think otherwise, I, just like most other people, have grown to rely on technology far too much.

Perhaps it's the fact that I am surrounded by young kids everyday, but I truly feel bad for the generation that is growing up in today's society.  While there's no question they will have unfathomable access to technologies and devices that, until just a few years ago, only existed in science-fiction novels, these kids are truly missing out on having a childhood like my generation had.

Sure, I played video games, and we had a computer at home (our first one was aged when we got it, and still had a floppy B Drive)...But, we also played outside.  We rode bikes.  We got dirty.  DJ and I used to spend hours playing with a motley mix of G.I. Joes and X-Men in the creek behind my house.  We'd go "exploring" in the woods we knew like the back of our hand.  Lensey, our neighbor Katie, DJ, and I would create fake treasure maps, bury fake treasures, and race to see who could find the other treasure and make it back to the house first.  We built clubhouses, went fishing, we found anything to kill time.  Now, when I ask kids what they did over the weekend, I never hear anything like that, and it makes me sad for them.

The only thing I ever hear is this: "I played X-Box all day."  Recently, in one of my resource classes, I had four boys write an essay about their favorite possession.  All but one wrote about a video game system, and the one that didn't wrote about his favorite video game.

It doesn't take a genius to realize the impact that has on young kids. The epidemic of obesity in this country is a direct result of that (and poor eating and exercise habits).  Sure, a lot of blame can be put on parents, who themselves have become accustomed to relying on technology to keep their kids occupied.  But, what I can't seem to comprehend is how people don't get bored.  How parents can't look at their children and think, "I am helping my child to an early grave."

My parents worked very hard to ensure that Lensey and I grew up as comfortably as possible, with opportunities and luxuries they would have never dreamed of as children.  But, at the same time, they instilled the attitude that those luxuries are just that...Luxuries.  Not to be taken for granted, and not to be relied upon as necessity.  That's why they applied rules, and why, whenever we attempted to push the boundaries of those rules, were told forcefully, "Get outside and play."  One of Mom and Dad's favorite lines was, "If you can't find something to do, I'll find something for you."  Trust me...Whatever it was, would not be fun.

I guess parents just don't do that anymore.  I guess it's easier for them to drop a couple hundred bucks on an X-Box, set their kids in front of the TV, and let them pass their life away.  All the while, inadvertent as it may be, setting them up for a lifetime of lazy and slothful behavior that spills over into every aspect of their lives.  Call me cynical, but judging by increasingly poor performance and just an overall lack of motivation in school (and even on the sports field), the children that will soon be adults will not possess the necessary qualities to lead full, productive lives.  I guess the most alarming thing is how quickly that change has occurred...I'm barely 10 years removed from high school, and the difference between then and now is astounding.

I know you're probably thinking I need to come down off my soapbox and relax, and maybe you're right.  Every generation that comes along appears, to the generation that came before it, to be the downfall of civilization as we know it.  I'm not jumping off that ledge, just yet.  But, I do find myself feeling increasingly sorry for a generation of kids that will never get to have the same kind of childhood I had.  They can't turn their faces away from a video game, or remove their ear buds from their iPod, long enough to experience all the world around them has to offer.  Even things right outside their back door.  Maybe it's just me beginning to show my age, but I do find myself longing for a time before all that.  And I've also grown increasingly thankful that I came along when I did.  I just wish more parents nowadays had the attitude that mine did.  Thanks, Mom and Dad.

Baby, You Can Drive My Car

Despite my disdain for basically every miserable part of winter, there is something inherently soothing about walking outside into the brisk, biting air of a January morning.  There's a certain calmness to it that doesn't exist at any other time of year.  Winter mornings possess a stillness that no other season can really claim.  During the first warm months of spring, you'll hear birds chirping as they welcome the new day.  And as the months grow hotter, you'll hear cicadas humming in the distance, or leaves rustling in a warm breeze.  But, in the dead of winter, there is just silence and cold.  A certain nothingness.

Then, on those cold mornings when you start your truck to allow it to warm up, that silence is broken by the uneven rumble of an engine, and the blowing of the defroster in the cab.  And, when you are about to start your day and head off to work, you realize that you've somehow locked your only set of keys inside the cab, as they set firmly placed in the ignition.

That's how my day began yesterday morning.  And as I stood outside in the sub-20 degree weather, with my truck running and wasting gas in my driveway, that soothing calmness I briefly felt was instantly blown away by the cold January wind.  Not only did I have to endure the humiliation of calling my principal to explain why I would be late to work, but I also had to sit outside in the freezing cold, because I had locked myself out of the house, too.  And locksmiths, like the government, are never in a big rush.

That inconvenient occurrence got me thinking about some of the past experiences I've had with the various vehicles I've driven over the years.  I've made a lot of good memories driving around with friends, cranking some of our favorite tunes, somehow avoiding any serious trouble, despite our apparent desperate efforts to find it.  I've also had some unfortunate and scary moments in those vehicles, but I've always come out clean on the other side.  And no matter how many cars you drive in your lifetime, there's always a special place in your heart for that first one.

My first car was a charcoal grey 1998 Ford Escort sedan...As stock as they come.  It had manual windows and locks, cloth seats, a steering wheel that could not be adjusted, a radio without a cassette deck, and 2.0L 4-cylinder engine.  Let me tell you, I was the envy of all of my friends.  Nonetheless, that car was reliable and got outstanding gas mileage, so I can't really complain too much.  On countless Friday nights, Mom or Dad would give me a $20 bill, and I could fill my tank, go grab a bite to eat, and spend all night out with my buddies and still have some left over for Saturday.  We put a lot of miles on that car driving to Paducah, cruising around looking for something to do.  No matter how many times we planned on doing something epic, we usually ended up eating at Wendy's, going to the mall and walking two full laps, going to a movie or bowling, then capping the night at Steak 'n Shake.  Despite the newfound freedom we had when I got my license, our weekends were usually fairly predictable.

Things didn't start out so well for me as a licensed driver.  About a month after I got my license, my friend Blake and I were going to a concert at the Paducah riverfront, and as we were pulling out of a parking spot, I backed into a black Ford Mustang.  I was horrified and speechless, because I knew my Dad would end my life.  But, the driver of the other vehicle didn't have their headlights on, so it didn't end up being a big thing.  Blake immortalized the ordeal in a song he wrote to the tune of "3 AM," by Matchbox Twenty and sang it in our Arts and Humanities class in front of 30 of my classmates.  It was hilarious and incredibly embarrassing at the same time.

Another time I was driving down Scale Road on my way to Paducah.  My rear passenger side tire went off the side of the road and hit a bump where a driveway met the road and sent the rear of my car spinning back towards the opposite side.  I managed to get the car under control and stopped...On the edge of a ditch that sloped down about 12 feet from the road.  Despite my efforts to prevent it, the car slowly (really, it felt like slow motion) creeped over the side and down into the ditch.  Not two minutes after the car came to a stop, I heard the familiar sound of Papaw's diesel Ford pickup come rumbling over the hill.  I flagged him down, and he and Memaw got out and soothed my nerves.  At the same time, a man that lived just up the hill had heard my tires squealing, and came down in his tractor to pull me out.  Me, and luckily the car, were both totally unscathed, and I continued on my way.

There were plenty of good times, too.  It's funny how, when you reminisce, seemingly miniscule details become permanently engrained in your memory.  So many stories my friends and I retell over and over about our high school days occurred in that car.  Or at least are tied to it.  We'd pack the trunk full of firewood and drive out to the lake to go camping.  We'd sit in parking lots with the doors open, music blaring from the cheap, factory speakers in the doors.  We'd drive around and talk about life, the future, or sit in total silence and talk about nothing at all.  As I sit here now, I can almost feel the vibration of the steering wheel, or smell the old air freshener I kept in the glove compartment.

While that car was the exact opposite of a high-performance machine, it got me from point A to point B countless times.  It took me on my first date.  It drove me to college for the first time.  It took me on my first road-trip with my friends.  It got me into trouble a few times, and probably got me out of it a few more times than that.  And while I don't know where it is now (the last time I saw it, it was wrecked and sitting in an impound lot), I'll always be able to remember the good times I had in it.  And even some of the bad ones. 

Here's Johnny!

Well, here we are.  The first week of January has come and gone, and we find ourselves neck-deep in the wasteland that is the post-holiday season.  Call me grumpy.  Call me melodramatic.  Call me whatever you want...But I absolutely HATE this time of year.  I mean, I just despise it.  If there is a more depressing time of year than the six or eight weeks after New Year's, I haven't encountered it yet.  Aside from college basketball, what does this stretch of time have to offer?

The weather is totally awful.  In these parts, it's cold, but not cold enough to snow very often.  It's just an annoying cold that forces you to wrap up when you go outside, but no snow.  Just cold and wind and the occasional "wintry mix."  At least most of the time.  Even when we get a lot of snow, like two years ago, that gets old after just a week or so.

Everyone is sick.  Some more than others, but pretty much everybody has at least a runny nose that seems to last for weeks with no discernible explanation.  You can get your flu shot, wash your hands frequently, hook up to an IV of orange juice...None of it matters.  Really, the only way to avoid it is to lock yourself away in a mountain hotel somewhere and wait till spring.  And even then you'll just go crazy and start seeing ghosts.  And it's cold.

You come off of the cheerful holiday season full of family, presents, great food, time off and then all of a sudden there's seemingly nothing to look forward to for months.  Spring seems like it's a million miles away.  For most folks, it's too early in the year to use vacation days.  And it's cold.

All the trees are bare.  They're ugly and lifeless.  Grass browns and doesn't grow.  If you want to buy flowers for your wife, the only ones available are small and overpriced.  The days are short and the nights are long.  And it is just so damn cold.

When I was in high school, this time of year was a bit more tolerable.  I'd spend most afternoons after school going to the batting cage and getting some swings in, preparing for the upcoming baseball season.  We'd go outside and throw on the few days it didn't rain or was warm enough for us to stand it.  I played basketball a few nights a week, too, so I kept busy most of the time.  That helped pass the time.  I had February 15th circled on my calendar, because that was the day spring practice officially started, and the day winter unofficially ended.  The weather might still suck for another month or so, but at least I knew spring was right around the corner.

Now, though, things are a bit different.  I don't have those things to occupy my time like I did then.  I've got more important things to worry about.  But, that doesn't mean I haven't developed new ways to get through the doldrums that are January and February.  I've taken some steps to help ensure I don't go totally crazy waiting on spring to finally arrive.

Kentucky basketball is the main thing that occupies my attention during this time of year.  If you know me well, you know how big of a fan I am and how much I follow the Cats all year round.  But, I really amp up that focus this time of year.  Conference play kicks into high gear, and that plays a major role, but since college football has come to a close, and baseball is still two months away, I can put all my sports-related attention toward the Cats.  And it helps (as long as they're winning).

I focus on small chunks of time, rather than thinking in terms of months.  Instead of torturing myself by counting down the days to spring break, I focus on small things that pop up from time to time.  Luckily, this year, I'm going on a trip Super Bowl weekend with DJ and going to another Avett Brothers concert in February with Adrienne, Liza, and Jackie.  Those two big-ticket items will highlight the next six weeks.  Other than that, MLK Day and the SEC Tournament are there.  I have even broken down the school calendar and know how many days there are in between three-day weekends.  It's the little things.  It's sad, really.

Of course there's New Year's resolutions that can help, too, for most people.  Although, I must admit, I don't really have any this year.  I wrote a post last year about my disdain for New Year's resolutions, and I would say most of those are still in tact.  I did better in 2012 than I have probably ever done in sticking with my resolutions, so I figure I shouldn't mess with a winning formula.  But, most of the time, they can help occupy your attention for a while.  Maybe that's why people come up with New Year's resolutions to begin with...There's nothing else to do this time of year.

I might pick up a new hobby or try to get back into working out, although neither of those usually last very long.  I guess the main idea is to just try to keep your mind occupied as much as possible. 

If you long for warm days, sunburns, grilled meat, cold beer, mosquito bites, thunderstorms, boats, shorts, and flip flops then you understand my disdain for this time of year.  In the meantime, I encourage you to find ways to pass the long days and cure your cabin fever.  Otherwise, you might just go crazy.

Readin', Ritin', and Rithmetic

I don't have very many vivid memories of my life when I was a kindergartner.  I remember a handful of friends' birthday parties.  And I remember a set of inflatable red monsters that my teacher, Mrs. Sue, hung above the board and used to teach us the alphabet, but I don't actually remember learning the alphabet.  I couldn't even tell you where in the building (which was demolished when I was in 2nd grade) my first classroom was located. 

I vividly remember a time when I told Mrs. Sue that I was a car-rider one particular day because Dad was taking me fishing.  I normally rode the bus home (good old #50), but I told her Dad was picking me up that day.  Mrs. Sue sat with me on the steps outside the classroom as, one-by-one, all the kids left.  "Are you sure you weren't supposed to ride the bus?" She asked, multiple times.  "No...Dad is coming to get me.  He's probably getting the tackle box ready," I insisted.  Eventually, the bus driver was called, and she came and took me home on an empty bus, which is where I was supposed to be the entire time.  I don't recall if Dad and I went fishing that afternoon or not.

It doesn't really feel like it was all that long ago, but it definitely sounds like it.  Twenty-three years.  But when you do the math, it doesn't really sound all that daunting.  Roughly 18,000 hours.  About 770 days.  A little over 2 years.  That's how much time (estimated, of course) I've spent in a school of one kind or another as a student.  Growing up, it feels like we spend more time at school than we do anywhere else, but if you were to create a pie chart of my life divided by hours, I've actually only spent about 8% of my time on earth in school.

This week marks the end of my standard education.  I'll take my Praxis exam next week and will have my Rank-I certification in Special Education.  It makes me sound really important.  It makes me seem extremely learned (pronounced learn-ed, like in 18th century England).  The truth is, I've probably forgotten more than I care to admit, and just because I have a couple of degrees framed on my wall, I don't feel like I should have a particular label or status applied to me.  It really just means I've spent entirely too much of my parents' money.

School was never all that difficult for me.  I don't say that to brag...It's really just a fact.  Truth be told, no matter what grade I was in, I never really pushed myself all that much.  I always did all my homework, and I was well-behaved for the most part.  But I coasted.  I did enough to get by with good enough grades that my parents stayed off my back.  They got plenty upset when I got as low as a B, but if I had really put forth effort, I could have easily finished with straight A's from 1st grade all the way til now.  Lensey was always a better student than I was, but she will tell you she had to work a lot harder than I did to be successful.  And she reminds me of that frequently.

That sentiment reminds me of something Liza told me a couple of years ago.  When I was in graduate school at UK, Dr. Kathy Swan, the director of the MIC program in which I was enrolled, never really liked me.  And it was obvious.  She called me out constantly for not shaving everyday, told me I needed to dress more professionally (for class, mind you), and was much harder on my written assignments than some of my classmates.  Don't get me wrong, I was a bit of a cut-up in class at times, but when it came time to be serious, I was.  I just tried to lighten the mood sometimes, and I guess she didn't care for that.  I returned from my first interview, and when she asked how it went, I said "It went well.  The principal said I was the best-dressed interviewee they had."  It was just my subtle way of flipping her the bird, which I'm fairly certain she understood.

But anyway, Liza was my academic adviser at the time, and worked closely with Dr. Swan.  So, when Adrienne and I started dating, I asked Liza if Dr. Swan didn't like me.  She absolutely confirmed its truth, and when I asked why, she said "Dr. Swan just thought things came too easily for you."  Perhaps it was my own fault for not carrying myself a certain way all the time, but regardless...A very silly reason to dislike one of your students.  It never really bothered me that Dr. Swan didn't like me, though.  It was plenty clear she had her favorites, and quite frankly, I'm glad I didn't belong to that group.  But, hearing that from Liza sums up my education pretty well.  I was always successful, but I could have done a lot more.

Do I have regrets in that regard?  Not exactly...I have way too many great memories of times with friends or doing things that I enjoyed to sit around and worry about an exam I took 5 years ago.  Sure, I look back and know I could have studied harder and made a better grade here or there, but as I sit here now, I'm totally convinced it would have had little impact on the way my life has turned out.  And I wouldn't trade the memories I made for anything...So, no...I don't regret it.

To me, education was always more than just learning facts, or training for a career...It was training for life.  It was learning about myself.  How I deal with adversity.  How I interact with other people.  How I prioritize my life.  How I set goals and prepare to meet those goals.  As much as I'm sure I learned in a classroom, I feel like the experience of an education taught me even more.

I will miss certain aspects of being a student, even though my most recent experience at the University of the Cumberlands has been totally different than anything else I've ever been involved in.  But, even though my official education is over, it has instilled a love of learning in me that I can always continue to feed as I go through life.  Education is on-going and something we should all take seriously.  I might not have always taken my "schooling" as serious as I could or should have, I definitely took my education seriously.  While the degrees hanging on the wall tell me I'm specifically trained to be a teacher, I don't always have to teach.  I might.  I might not.  That isn't the point.  The point is, I have been extremely fortunate to be able to get a good education, and having that experience has taught me more than any textbook or lecture ever could.