Thursday stuff....

     I could listen to that repetitive riff from "Stranglehold" for hours (and I've done so many times.)  It's sitting right over there on the cd shelf and discussing it makes me want to go over there and pop it in.  I dig "The Motor City Madman."  But I don't know what to make of a 64 year old Ted Nugent and his role as, uh - what?  A prop?  A spokesman?  An activist?  Please explain this to me Steve Stockman.  I'm not even addressing the argument over gun control itself - I'm asking what you were trying to accomplish by inviting Mr. Nugent to the State of The Union gathering last night.  When you look at Nugent's resume, it's probably  no more shocking than any other of the musicians I've enjoyed over the years.  But I find it puzzling that to illustrate how absolutely by-God American the gun control issue might be you've chosen someone who might not fit the GOP's image of a by-God American.  He told CREEM magazine that the only time he used any sort of drugs was when he did a line of crystal meth before his draft physical because he "wanted to see the look on the sergeant's face."   He later told the U.K. newspaper "Independent" that he did that and enrolled at Oakland Community College (thereby earning a "1Y student deferment") because he "did not want to get his ass shot off in Vietnam."   Again, that makes him not much different than a lot of young men in the late 60's.  But can you imagine the NOISE that we'd hear from the right-leaning folks should the left-leaning folks ever put a "hippie/draft-dodger/drug addict/you must hate your country/bet you burned a flag/commie"  right there in the gallery while a republican president made a SOTU speech?   Forget the epic irony of trying to make him  the face of the whole "when you pry it from my cold, dead hand...."  manifesto.  Swing and a miss Mr.Stockman.  Your counterpart Charlie Dent, a fellow republican from Pennsylvania probably made a better choice when inviting someone to the SOTU...a constituent he's nominated for admission into the United States Naval Academy.  That's how you sit in chambers and look by-God American should the cameras find you.
     And once you mention "Stranglehold" you have to listen to it......over & over & over.....

     Well Happy Valentine's Day.  Noticing the kids at the bus stop this morning I was wondering if they still put them through the torture of having to bring Valentines for everyone in your class.  I can't remember if teachers or mothers made us endure that torture there at Rockbridge Elementary.  I do remember one girl who brought a box to share and - on all the boys' cards - she signed it "just kidding."  I remember wanting to "return to sender" and tell her "get over yourself sweetheart!  You ain't all that a bag of chips yourself!!!  You think I WANTED a valentines from you??    I'm going to throw stuff at you on the way home today!!"  Through the miracle of these social networking sites I've seen mention of where she and her husband are living.  Perhaps I should've dropped one in her mailbox signed "No, I'm just kidding!!!! HA!"  
Barney and I both move on very well....

     On this day that Hallmark and jewelry stores have set aside for us to celebrate love that we should be celebrating 365 days a year, there was overwhelming evidence at our house that I married perhaps the only woman on earth who could put up with me.  As she left for work she said "I know it's Valentine's Day and we can do something special if you like....but I'd really just like to come home and watch the Tech - Clemson game tonight."   Thank you God!
     It's easy to take what's "everyday"  for granted and forget how beautiful some people are.  Case in point- Last night, during a visit with my in-laws, my bride's father pulled me aside (as he often does) to share a sentiment with me that he didn't  necessarily want the whole room to hear.  I know that many of you reading this remember my father-in-law as your elementary school principal and probably still tread lightly at the sound of his name.  But his heart is huge and getting more so as he advances in years.  He gave us a Valentine's card that had a sentiment regarding "My daughter and son-in-law."  He pulled me aside last night to tell me "I nearly took a pen and scratched out that 'in-law' part...but it was a pretty card and I didn't want to ruin it.  But remember that you aren't anything but a son to me...there's no 'in-law' to the situation...ok?  Promise me you'll remember that."  Without losing all dignity and crying in front of another man I assured him that I'd always remember that.  Again, thank you God!
       Well we didn't  leave the womb as married people.  There were a lot of years I was alone but not lonely.  See, I came dangerously (DANGEROUSLY) close to getting married when I was very young to a female human whose name I dare not speak (and only refer to her now as "Satan's Daughter."  Worried she might read this?  I'm not.)   When I escaped that I celebrated freedom and got to know myself.  Even learned to like myself a little bit, recapturing any self-worth that relationship had drained from my soul.  Still, though happy, I wondered if finding someone with whom I wanted to share a life was in the cards.  Even if I was  now liking myself I had to admit to myself  that I didn't fit the husband prototype that I'd  learned from....well, uh, not sure where we learn these parameters of what a husband looks like and acts like.  I only knew I didn't fit it and it would take someone quite unique to put up with me.  I was relieved, then, to hear an interview with Gregg Allman and find out that such thinking was his inspiration for writing one my favorite songs.  He wrote it in 1967 and it's not about anyone in particular.  It's about the "idea" of someone who could put up with his less than traditional life.  He got the name when he heard a woman calling after a little girl named Melissa in the grocery store.  I used to say I'd get married if/when I ever found someone that considered this a love song.  But I had no idea that a wife wasn't someone I had to find.  She was living right down the street.   I just had to quit looking for her to find her.