Growing up, I was an average athlete on my best day, but I played both baseball and football for about ten years. I loved practicing just as much as I did playing the games. I had good games and bad games. My parents cut an article out of the Wetumpka Herald in 1984 about a game where I gave up only three hits in a game. That was an exception to the rule. Most games I played in were pretty forgettable. I never had the chance to be on a team that someone would refer to as a good team. The team that I played for when I threw the three-hitter won eleven games in three years. We didn’t even win one season’s worth of games over the course of three seasons but boy, did I have fun!

Never once, ever, do I ever remember either of my parents, particularly my dad, saying anything hurtful or even remotely mean to me either before, during, or after a game. Actually, there was the time when my coach moved me from shortstop to first base just before the first pitch of one game. I didn’t care for the move and was taking my time walking across the field until I heard my father’s booming voice yell, “YOU BETTER RUN, BOY!” I ran. Sprinted, really. I also prayed that he’d forget about it by the end of the game. Other than that he always accentuated whatever positives there may have been and then corrected compassionately wherever correction was warranted. He recognized that I didn’t make the mistakes and errors on purpose. He knew I wanted to do well and that it bothered me when I made mistakes. Therefore, there was no reason for him to make me feel worse by criticizing me or being angry. He realized that what I was playing, whether baseball, football, tennis, or any other sport I ventured into, was a game. I had such a positive experience growing up playing sports that I continued to play whatever I could well into adulthood. I broke my elbow during a church softball game about eight years ago which brought my athletic career to a screeching, painful halt(for those of you who were there on that fateful night and would make fun of me…I scored on the play and you guys ended up winning by one run so, NYAH).

I wonder how many kids who participate in organized youth sports today will be able to look back on their experience fondly. I hear too many stories of overzealous dads and coaches who push too hard and expect virtual perfection from children who aren’t even ten years old in many cases. I personally know of an instance when an eight year old boy who didn’t hit well in the cage before a game, not even during the game, whose father took him into the restroom and spanked him. Don’t you know that kid just can’t wait for game time?!? I’ll bet he LOVES baseball! Playing hard is a good thing. Competition is a good thing. Winning is a good thing and certainly makes an already fun game even more fun. However, those who coach the younger kids and teach them that winning is the most important thing are missing some wonderful opportunities to instill sportsmanship, patience, and perseverance among other character traits. Before someone calls me some sort of bleeding heart who thinks dodgeball should be banned from playgrounds all over the country, don’t. I love competition and I love winning. Just ask my older sisters. They’ll tell you that I don’t take losing well or lightly and I never have. In fact, I never will.

The difference now is that I have children of my own. I see that society doesn’t value a child’s innocence the way it once did and it seems that this world tries to rob them of that innocence at a younger age with each passing year. I don’t think that’s a good thing. As they get into junior high and high school then the rules change. Games mean more and so does winning those games. College scholarships and maybe even more await a select few. I’m okay with that. But those are older kids who are learning a different set of lessons.

I guess I said all that to say this: Let them play for the fun of the game while they still can. Sooner than most of us want, they’ll grow up and be thrust into a world that will heap upon them the problems, worries, and pressures of adulthood. They won’t be kids forever. Let them enjoy the wonders of life while they still can. That includes baseball.

I read a news story this morning about a new line of Barbie Dolls that are being released called the “Barbie Basic Collection.” Each of the Barbies in this line is wearing a little black dress. Apparently, one of the Barbies is creating a bit of controversy because she is showing too much cleavage and many people, moms in the story that I read, think it is inappropriate for Barbie to show so much cleavage. They contend that this particular doll was designed to mimic the look of having breast implants. If I may, I’d like to offer a bit of objective commentary on this issue: It’s a doll. The end.

I have a four year old daughter, Gracie, who has numerous Barbies that share her toybox (and floor) with dolls of varying sizes and shapes. Most of them are naked, their clothes usually stripped within minutes of removing them from the packaging. By the way, when did it become necessary for me to have to have a fully-stocked Snap-On tool box just to remove a toy from its packaging? Having to use a pair of wire cutters and a screwdriver just to open a Star Wars Millennium Falcon that Santa Claus brought can really suck the joy right out of a Christmas morning. Trust me on that. Geez Louise! Anyway, take a glance into my daughter’s room and you might think that one of the bad guy G.I. Joe action figures had set off some sort of explosive device which blew the clothes off of all the dolls. The toy pig remains clothed in full princess regalia while the princess lies naked among the carnage. Good thing, I suppose, since princesses tend to be a bit diva-ish and probably don’t take too kindly to their royal clothing being worn by a common farm animal. Go figure. Anyway, I don’t ask questions. It’s not a big deal in my mind if one Barbie had breast implants or another one had liposuction on her thighs along with some lip-fattening toxin injected into her face and it doesn’t appear to be a big deal to Gracie either. They’re toys and she is keenly aware of that. They ride upside down in strollers, have conversations with friends on toy phones, and make death-defying leaps from towel-racks high above the bathtub into mere inches of water. They’ve driven pink Corvettes off of kitchen counters and walked away unscathed. Naked, but unscathed.

With all the problems that exist in the world today…war, terrorism, crime, unemployment, stock market crashes, liberalism (had to throw that in for some of my “progressive” friends)…I have to say that a big-boobed-Barbie ain’t one of ’em! Some may say that this Barbie will cause Gracie to have unrealistic expectations about what women should look like. That if she grows up and doesn’t have the “perfect” body, whatever that is, that it will somehow be because my wife and I were bad parents and let her play with “Implant Barbie.” I don’t buy that. I grew up in a time when every boy had toy guns that looked real. We fought countless wars and had more shootouts than I could ever count. I always had a BB gun close by and even got lucky and shot a few mocking birds over the years. Those games and toys so influenced my life that today, as an adult, I don’t even own a gun. I don’t have a problem with guns at all. I’ve just never really needed one. Not yet. I have been thinking of getting one, though. Times have changed and the world that I knew as a child has become a much more dangerous one. I mean, have you seen a Barbie Doll lately?

Attorney General Eric Holder, speaking at a House Judiciary Committee Meeting last week made himself look foolish…again. There’s nothing particularly unusual about that I suppose, but this time he really got my blood boiling. After stating that the Justice Department is considering a lawsuit to block Arizona’s new immigration law that has drawn so much controversy, Rep. Ted Poe (R-Texas) asked Mr. Holder, “Have you read the Arizona law?” Holder answered, “I have not had a chance. I grant that I have not read it.” Is this not the height of arrogance? For the Attorney General of the United States to threaten to file a lawsuit against a state for a law it passed without having read that law is unfathomable to me. What it says to me is that Mr. Holder thinks that he can say whatever he wants and that the American people will simply defer to him because of his position. This, of course, is in keeping with smug, self-righteous attitude exhibited by practically every member of this current administration and all it’s minions in congress. Especially from the man at the top who, while he can deliver a rousing speech, possesses an ego of epic proportions. Mr. Holder and the rest of the Obama administration never leave campaign mode and seem to be more interested in creating good sound bytes for the masses of reporters who blindly follow them as if they were some modern day pied piper.

In another exchange during the same meeting, this one with Rep. Lamar Smith (R-Texas), Mr. Holder refused to say that radical Islam might have been a contributing factor, if not the sole reason, for the Fort Hood shootings, the attempted Christmas day attack, and the attempted Times Square attack. Tea Party supporters are regularly ridiculed and mocked and spoken of in all manner of derogatory terms and yet Mr. Holder goes to ridiculous lengths to keep from uttering the words “radical Islam.” What is the issue here? The lunatics from the infamous Westboro Baptist Church in Kansas call themselves Christians. If they are, then it is certainly some form of radical Christianity which is not consistent with the teaching of scripture as I understand it. I’m perfectly comfortable saying that as well as calling them fanatical lunatics. Why? BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT THEY ARE! I’m not saying that every Muslim is a terrorist who wants to blow up innocent people here in America. I am saying that pretty much every terrorist appears to be a Muslim who practices some form of radical Islam which drives them to kill. That is not racist or discriminatory or intolerant in my view. It is a fact.

I wish that this administration would stop falling all over itself trying to be politically correct and just do something constructive for a change. Stop threatening Arizona and do something to protect the citizens there from the crimes committed by illegal immigrants who easily cross over the apparently porous border. I think that Arizona’s law-abiding citizens are safe to go have an ice cream at the ice cream shop without being shot with a taser or strip searched. Stop going off half-cocked about everything and practice a little common sense for once. You’re embarrassing us for goodness’ sake. Dang (now you’ve made me use a bad word)!

I probably have mentioned some of these before. Oh, well. I’m in that kind of mood. Shall we begin? Let’s!

• Anyone who parks in a handicapped space who isn’t handicapped. Especially when there are ten empty non-handicapped spaces within thirty feet.
• People who purposely park in two spaces because their car is so nice they don’t want it to get dinged. I’ve got news for you buddy, I will go out of my way to ding you if I can squeeze into one of the spots next to you. 
• People who let a door shut in my face and don’t at least give the obligatory “I’d rather be walking away from this door but since I saw you coming  I’m going to awkwardly stretch backward and hold it for you until you touch it” move.
• People who don’t at least mumble a half-hearted “thank you” when I awkwardly stretch backward to hold the door for them.
• People who blow their nose in a restaurant. For goodness’ sake, I’m trying to eat here. Can’t you at least go to the restroom to irrigate your sinuses?
• When I pass someone in a hallway of some sort, like maybe at church or at one of my kids’ schools, and they don’t answer at all when I say hello or good morning. You can tell by looking at the eyes of these people before they ever get to you. They are doing everything they can, including staring at the wall, to keep from acknowledging you in any shape, form, or fashion. I promise I’m not going to hug you. I’m just attempting to exchange pleasantries with you. I am happily married and not looking for a date.
• I don’t like it when someone comes out of a restroom, this, too, happens a lot at church, and wants to shake my hand. I understand that you washed your hands and probably didn’t even get any on your hands anyway. Still, there needs to be at least an hour grace period before you present your hand to me to touch. I don’t like shaking hands anyway. I think it’s an outdated concept that needs to be done away with. I hold hands with my wife(every now and again) and my kids. That’s enough pda for me(that’s public display of affection for the uninitiated).
• Loud people in public places. This is another one of the things that just screams, literally and figuratively,  I’M HORRIBLY OBNOXIOUS! If you want to include me in your conversation about your trip to Savannah then you should invite me to sit at your table and pay for my dinner. Otherwise, turn the volume down a few hundred decibels.
• People who smoke in public places. Inside and outside. Even if smoking is allowed there, you ought to be considerate enough to go off out of the way a bit to practice your smelly, deadly vice. I quit smoking almost fifteen years ago and no longer wish to stink of cigarette smoke(yes, it stinks). I shouldn’t have to walk through a haze of noxious fumes just to get my name on the waiting list at Texas Roadhouse.
• People who have stinky breath but insist on talking directly into your face.
• The ball caps with flat brims worn askew on teenage boys heads. Bend it a little and straighten it up. You don’t look cool. Trust me.
• Liberals, with apologies to my lefty friends.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. At least in the Alabama House of Representatives anyway. Gambling and greed breed corruption. Whether anything comes of this or not, that is a fact. It will surely be interesting to watch all of this unfold. 

Yesterday, as I was out for a run, I found myself running in front of The Magnolia Cottage on North Bridge Street. I wondered to myself why I had never had occasion to go inside of this beautiful, restored Victorian cottage for dinner with anyone. Then I remembered that most people don’t like me and it made perfect sense. I typically get invitations when someone is raising money for a cause of some sort or they are expecting a gift. When that is the case I take full advantage of it. Any old port in a storm I always say. Anyway, my route would normally take me on down the sidewalk on North Bridge toward the city cemetery, but instead I decided to take a left onto Tuskeena Street. I’ve never paid much attention to the four or five houses that are directly across the street from The Magnolia Cottage. I always knew they were run-down but for whatever reason they never made it out of my peripheral vision as I passed them. On this day, as I slowly ran by(that really goes without saying), I took a glance into the back yards(I use that term loosely) of these homes and realized that the whole place is a dump!

Steve Slaughter, a Wetumpka native, is in the process of attempting to reach the top of Mt. Everest. You can follow his progress at his blog, We-tu 2 Mt. Everest via BKK. Fascinating stuff! Steve’s parents and brother still live right here in Wetumpka. Go join his blog and leave him some comments of encouragement!

Elizabeth Spiers, who grew up here in Wetumpka and now lives in NYC, wrote a piece about her life after being adopted. She is a very talented writer and, among many other endeavors, is working on her first novel(at least according to her bio). Some of you may know her parents, Terry and Alice Spiers. Anyway, it is a fascinating read. Click here to read it. It is entitled Alien Baby: Genetics, Adoption, and How I Became Myself.

Here where I work, we have a help-wanted sign in the window. I have several inquiries a day about hours and pay and that sort of thing. Yesterday, for whatever reason, I found myself waxing nostalgic about my younger days and the many jobs I held and applied for. Some I worked at for only a day. I suppose my work ethic wasn’t quite what it should have been.

“Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!”

Luke 24:5-6