Thursday, March 31, 2005
Be Prepared
Ever gone on a trip and forgotten something important?
I really hate that. You get to your destination and discover that you didn't bring your beach sandals, or a bottle of shampoo, or a bag of charcoal, or your swimsuit, or a bottle of soda. Or, you discover that after you threw your jacket in the car, your wife decided to take it out (sad, but true).
Well, don't worry gentle traveler... Wal-Mart is everywhere.
And its a good thing, too, because otherwise where would you buy beach sandals, shampoo, charcoal, swimsuits, and soda (not to mention get another jacket on short notice) in small town America? If your answer is the local Piggly Wiggly, then you are fooling yourself.
No, Wal-Mart, though much despised, is your only hope for vacation salvation. Trust me, I know this because I have never yet gone out of town without having to stop at a Wal-Mart for something. At first, I though I was cursed, and wondered how my former scoutmaster would chide me, for, "be, be, be prepared is the motto of the Boy Scouts."
But, then it occurred to me... even if I forgot something, that didn't mean I wasn't prepared. Oh no. Where there is a will, there is a way, my friend. That credit card in my pocket... now THAT is prepared! Combine the credit card with the Wal-Mart, and, voila!, any and every single thing your could need for vacative bliss is at your fingertips.
Now, you ask, what do I do with all this surplus gear when I get home? These extra sandals, swimsuits, etc. Well, someone has to keep ebay in business, right?
I really hate that. You get to your destination and discover that you didn't bring your beach sandals, or a bottle of shampoo, or a bag of charcoal, or your swimsuit, or a bottle of soda. Or, you discover that after you threw your jacket in the car, your wife decided to take it out (sad, but true).
Well, don't worry gentle traveler... Wal-Mart is everywhere.
And its a good thing, too, because otherwise where would you buy beach sandals, shampoo, charcoal, swimsuits, and soda (not to mention get another jacket on short notice) in small town America? If your answer is the local Piggly Wiggly, then you are fooling yourself.
No, Wal-Mart, though much despised, is your only hope for vacation salvation. Trust me, I know this because I have never yet gone out of town without having to stop at a Wal-Mart for something. At first, I though I was cursed, and wondered how my former scoutmaster would chide me, for, "be, be, be prepared is the motto of the Boy Scouts."
But, then it occurred to me... even if I forgot something, that didn't mean I wasn't prepared. Oh no. Where there is a will, there is a way, my friend. That credit card in my pocket... now THAT is prepared! Combine the credit card with the Wal-Mart, and, voila!, any and every single thing your could need for vacative bliss is at your fingertips.
Now, you ask, what do I do with all this surplus gear when I get home? These extra sandals, swimsuits, etc. Well, someone has to keep ebay in business, right?
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
It's a Hero Thing
Have you ever pondered a seemingly meaningless question?
Here’s one for you: Why do all men cry during the movie “Field of Dreams”?
It’s true – I can admit – we all cry, even the big burly guys. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to impress you.
But, why? What silent chord in the subconscious of all men resonates sympathetically to this movie?
First, let’s consider what FoD is really about… and, no, it’s not just about a baseball field and a deranged, schizophrenic guy. It’s about heroes – all types of heroes. The sports heroes little boys worship in their youth, the heroes we worship in our idealistic college days, the great, but unheralded mentors we meet during our careers, and, lastly, most importantly, it’s about our fathers.
We worship our dads, sure enough… and it doesn’t matter if he was a good man or not. We worship the man he was (or is), failing that, the man he should have been (and may yet become). We search, each of us, for a comparison in ourselves. How do I measure up? Am I as good a man? A better man? How may I emulate him? Or, how may I distinguish myself?
It seems to follow, then, that the outcome of all this hero business is self-examination and the search for a hero in one’s self. But, there’s a problem with using the conscious mind to reason about what subconscious is up to: It doesn’t work. That subconscious mind is a wily little bastard and illogical as hell. So, you have to feel for it instead. With that in mind, the thought, “Am I a hero?”, although a powerful question indeed, always seemed insufficient to elicit the emotional response to the movie that is evident.
I’ve pondered this for as long time, and it wasn’t until I noticed this quote, that things came into better focus: “I believe there’s a hero in all of us. A hero that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and, in the end, allows us to die with pride.” (Points to any movie hounds out there who can tell me where this came from)
A powerful sentiment, and an interesting corollary to my thoughts on heroes, to be sure, as it equates the hero in one’s self with the meaning of self… the meaning of self, yes, but also the meaning of one’s existence. Ah, now we’ve hit something truly worthy of the subconscious mind getting all worked up… an eternal question: the meaning of life. And, it would seem that the answer to this question, at least as presented in the vehicle of the movie “Field if Dreams”, wins the emotional approval of the subconscious mind.
It should be noted that, up to now, I’ve been using men a reference for my musings, which is only proper since I’m male. However, I think it safe, at this point, to open my reasonings to include all persons.
The synthesis of all these notions might be stated like this: Our heroes give us meaning. Their lives give meaning to our lives. We, in turn, are heroes, and our lives give meaning to lives of others. Therefore, we, each one of us, are the meaning of life.
Hmm. I guess my meaningless question was not so meaningless after all…
Here’s one for you: Why do all men cry during the movie “Field of Dreams”?
It’s true – I can admit – we all cry, even the big burly guys. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to impress you.
But, why? What silent chord in the subconscious of all men resonates sympathetically to this movie?
First, let’s consider what FoD is really about… and, no, it’s not just about a baseball field and a deranged, schizophrenic guy. It’s about heroes – all types of heroes. The sports heroes little boys worship in their youth, the heroes we worship in our idealistic college days, the great, but unheralded mentors we meet during our careers, and, lastly, most importantly, it’s about our fathers.
We worship our dads, sure enough… and it doesn’t matter if he was a good man or not. We worship the man he was (or is), failing that, the man he should have been (and may yet become). We search, each of us, for a comparison in ourselves. How do I measure up? Am I as good a man? A better man? How may I emulate him? Or, how may I distinguish myself?
It seems to follow, then, that the outcome of all this hero business is self-examination and the search for a hero in one’s self. But, there’s a problem with using the conscious mind to reason about what subconscious is up to: It doesn’t work. That subconscious mind is a wily little bastard and illogical as hell. So, you have to feel for it instead. With that in mind, the thought, “Am I a hero?”, although a powerful question indeed, always seemed insufficient to elicit the emotional response to the movie that is evident.
I’ve pondered this for as long time, and it wasn’t until I noticed this quote, that things came into better focus: “I believe there’s a hero in all of us. A hero that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and, in the end, allows us to die with pride.” (Points to any movie hounds out there who can tell me where this came from)
A powerful sentiment, and an interesting corollary to my thoughts on heroes, to be sure, as it equates the hero in one’s self with the meaning of self… the meaning of self, yes, but also the meaning of one’s existence. Ah, now we’ve hit something truly worthy of the subconscious mind getting all worked up… an eternal question: the meaning of life. And, it would seem that the answer to this question, at least as presented in the vehicle of the movie “Field if Dreams”, wins the emotional approval of the subconscious mind.
It should be noted that, up to now, I’ve been using men a reference for my musings, which is only proper since I’m male. However, I think it safe, at this point, to open my reasonings to include all persons.
The synthesis of all these notions might be stated like this: Our heroes give us meaning. Their lives give meaning to our lives. We, in turn, are heroes, and our lives give meaning to lives of others. Therefore, we, each one of us, are the meaning of life.
Hmm. I guess my meaningless question was not so meaningless after all…
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
A poem for my beautiful wife on her birthday
With every day that dies to the dead of night,
And every tick that tocks,
With every night that nods to new dawning day,
And every drum of my heart,
I love you more as time creeps me by.
With every dream I dream that dims from view,
And every vision I seek,
With every thought I think to form my words,
And every hope I scribe,
I love you more as time flies me by.
Time creeps? Time flies?
No, I care not which, so long as I love you more.
And every tick that tocks,
With every night that nods to new dawning day,
And every drum of my heart,
I love you more as time creeps me by.
With every dream I dream that dims from view,
And every vision I seek,
With every thought I think to form my words,
And every hope I scribe,
I love you more as time flies me by.
Time creeps? Time flies?
No, I care not which, so long as I love you more.