Thursday, November 22, 2012
Back to the blog
It's been some time since I've blogged. Since that time, my father passed and my mom recently had emergency colon surgery. Fortunately, she is recovering nicely and for that I am grateful. Though I still enjoy writing, some parts of my job are getting a little taxing but I will continue to do my best.
Had a great Thanksgiving today with family, the typical turkey "pig out."
On my want-to-see-movie-list are "Lincoln," "Flight," "Skyfall," and "Hitchcock," all one-word title films. Probably will see "Skyfall" first. Big Bond fan am I.
Just posted this to keep things active.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
The story of Marvin the penguin prime minister
Back when the world was young, there once lived a penguin in Antarctica named Marvin. Due to some genetic fluke, Marvin was gray while all the other penguins were black and white. Also, Marvin stood out because all of the other birds in the community had “fancy” names like Ian, Alexander, Sebastian, Annabelle, and Esmeralda. Marvin’s mother, however, always instilled pride in him and told him to embrace his differences as just the way things were supposed to be.
As he matured, Marvin became a natural leader. Many came to him for advice and inspiration and suggested that he run for prime minister, elected by majority vote every six years.
Penguins campaigned and sought out the votes of their fellow birds. Because of his mother’s teachings, Marvin really wanted to help and serve others, so he took the suggestions of his peers and ran for the office.
His opponents, who couldn’t find anything that they could use against him, decided to focus on his name, saying that with a “common” name like Marvin, he couldn’t be “one of them.” He must have different values, a “flawed” morality, or even have been born under mysterious circumstances.
Their efforts didn’t prevail, though. He was elected as the prime minister and did his best during his first term in office. He suggested and initiated – with the help of the penguin “House of Parliament” - programs to help with employment, health care, and defense. Of course, there was always that opposition that continued to try to paint Marvin as an “outsider.” As time approached for the next election, Marvin’s political enemies decided to attack him, painting him as a menace to society, labeling him “a non-follower of penguin religion, a threat to individual rights, or even worse, the “anti- penguin.”
The closer the elections came, the more vehement the rhetoric against Marvin became. When the time came to pick a new prime minister, Marvin found himself facing an opponent that really played on the negatives, thinking that by playing on fears and suspicions would be enough to make Marvin a one-term prime minister.
To the opponent’s surprise, however, the voting populace could see beyond the untruths and the vicious rumors and put Marvin back in office for another six years…and what a glorious six years they were. All the programs that he initiated during his first six years came to fruition and Marvin “the different one” went down as one of the best prime ministers in penguin history.
Isn’t that a nice story?
As he matured, Marvin became a natural leader. Many came to him for advice and inspiration and suggested that he run for prime minister, elected by majority vote every six years.
Penguins campaigned and sought out the votes of their fellow birds. Because of his mother’s teachings, Marvin really wanted to help and serve others, so he took the suggestions of his peers and ran for the office.
His opponents, who couldn’t find anything that they could use against him, decided to focus on his name, saying that with a “common” name like Marvin, he couldn’t be “one of them.” He must have different values, a “flawed” morality, or even have been born under mysterious circumstances.
Their efforts didn’t prevail, though. He was elected as the prime minister and did his best during his first term in office. He suggested and initiated – with the help of the penguin “House of Parliament” - programs to help with employment, health care, and defense. Of course, there was always that opposition that continued to try to paint Marvin as an “outsider.” As time approached for the next election, Marvin’s political enemies decided to attack him, painting him as a menace to society, labeling him “a non-follower of penguin religion, a threat to individual rights, or even worse, the “anti- penguin.”
The closer the elections came, the more vehement the rhetoric against Marvin became. When the time came to pick a new prime minister, Marvin found himself facing an opponent that really played on the negatives, thinking that by playing on fears and suspicions would be enough to make Marvin a one-term prime minister.
To the opponent’s surprise, however, the voting populace could see beyond the untruths and the vicious rumors and put Marvin back in office for another six years…and what a glorious six years they were. All the programs that he initiated during his first six years came to fruition and Marvin “the different one” went down as one of the best prime ministers in penguin history.
Isn’t that a nice story?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Farewell to Andy Rooney from one of your fans
Farewell to Andy Rooney from one of your fans
I’ll admit that when I was growing up my “heroes” were not the ones that occupied the upper echelon of the sports or entertainment world. While there were some in that arena that I admired, I ranked those who expressed themselves with pen and ink or had voices that commanded attention when they even read a single word who were the ones that I aspired to be most like.
No one could craft a tale like H.G. Wells or Edgar Allen Poe in my book. No one could speak the “King’s English like Richard Burton, Orson Welles, Israeli Prime Minister Abba Eban, or frequent National Geographic narrator Alexander Scourby.
As I got older, others took their places; best-selling author’s Stephen King and Dean Koontz became my favorites and every time I heard James Earl Jones or Roscoe Lee Browne, I got chills hearing their magnificent diction.
This past week saw the death of one of my heroes of the written word: Andy Rooney. With his wit, his sarcasm, and his occasional eye-opening look at everyday life in Americat, the nationally-syndicated columnist put the stamp on the end of 60 Minutes for over three decades.
Rooney had a long career at CBS, starting in 1949 as a writer for Arthur Godfrey.
For a short period, he left the network in 1970 after a brief controversy over a commentary written about the Vietnam War. However, he returned shortly thereafter and joined 60 Minutes in 1978.
The columnist was bold and straightforward, occasionally getting the dander up of others. However, I always admired his style, his ingenuity, and his honesty.
His last 60 Minutes appearance was about a month ago. It that broadcast, which would turn out to be “swan song,” Rooney seemed to sum up his career.
“I've done a lot of complaining here, but of all the things I've complained about, I can't complain about my life. My wife Margie and I had four good kids...now there are grandchildren. I have two great grand children although they're a little young for me to know how great they are. And all this time I've been paid to say what is on my mind on television. You don't get any luckier in life than that.”
No, Mr. Rooney, you weren’t the lucky one. All of us who had the privilege to experience your writing were the beneficiaries of what you had to say.
To paraphrase somewhat from the song from the James Bond film, “Nobody DID it better.”
I’ll admit that when I was growing up my “heroes” were not the ones that occupied the upper echelon of the sports or entertainment world. While there were some in that arena that I admired, I ranked those who expressed themselves with pen and ink or had voices that commanded attention when they even read a single word who were the ones that I aspired to be most like.
No one could craft a tale like H.G. Wells or Edgar Allen Poe in my book. No one could speak the “King’s English like Richard Burton, Orson Welles, Israeli Prime Minister Abba Eban, or frequent National Geographic narrator Alexander Scourby.
As I got older, others took their places; best-selling author’s Stephen King and Dean Koontz became my favorites and every time I heard James Earl Jones or Roscoe Lee Browne, I got chills hearing their magnificent diction.
This past week saw the death of one of my heroes of the written word: Andy Rooney. With his wit, his sarcasm, and his occasional eye-opening look at everyday life in Americat, the nationally-syndicated columnist put the stamp on the end of 60 Minutes for over three decades.
Rooney had a long career at CBS, starting in 1949 as a writer for Arthur Godfrey.
For a short period, he left the network in 1970 after a brief controversy over a commentary written about the Vietnam War. However, he returned shortly thereafter and joined 60 Minutes in 1978.
The columnist was bold and straightforward, occasionally getting the dander up of others. However, I always admired his style, his ingenuity, and his honesty.
His last 60 Minutes appearance was about a month ago. It that broadcast, which would turn out to be “swan song,” Rooney seemed to sum up his career.
“I've done a lot of complaining here, but of all the things I've complained about, I can't complain about my life. My wife Margie and I had four good kids...now there are grandchildren. I have two great grand children although they're a little young for me to know how great they are. And all this time I've been paid to say what is on my mind on television. You don't get any luckier in life than that.”
No, Mr. Rooney, you weren’t the lucky one. All of us who had the privilege to experience your writing were the beneficiaries of what you had to say.
To paraphrase somewhat from the song from the James Bond film, “Nobody DID it better.”
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
If reincarnation is true, I know what I DON’T want to come back as
Ever since I was a little boy, I always wondered whether or not reincarnation was a reality. Of course, I went to church – and still do – and was told that such belief is contrary to my Christian teachings. However, research shows that there are many religions throughout the world that believe that, upon death, a human being will “come back,” either as another human or as an animal.
I often thought that the idea of being “reborn” as another individual has its merits. Why waste a good soul after the body has served its purpose was one of those thoughts that went through my head in my youth. The idea of being reincarnated as an animal didn’t take top priority but now that I’m pondering the topic, I know that I don’t want to “return” as either one of these two: a cockroach or a gator.
Of all of God’s creatures, those are two that I can certifiably say that I detest. Regarding the disgusting insect, I just don’t see its purpose. Yes, I know that it is a part of nature’s “waste cycle,” living up to its duty each and every day of its existence. However, I wish the little “buggers” would just disappear from the face of the earth or, at least, relocate to other parts of the country.
I remember once, years ago at school, I was trying to reach a box that was resting on a shelf high above my head. I pulled the box toward me and, unknown to me, I was inching a dead roach closer, little by little. When it reached the end, gravity took its toll and the creepy crawly fell “dead” into my eye. I uttered an “expletive” and a student of mine happened to have been in the vicinity and he said, “Oooh, Mr. Garrard, I heard you!” I told him that if a roach had fallen into your eye, you’d utter the same four-letter creation.
Of course, that story is just one of many that can be shared by anyone who lives in the South. Thus, I’m sure that I am not alone in hoping that another “life” will not be as a roach.
As far as the gator is concerned, I am terrified of them, regardless of whether they are in my physical presence or even on film and in a book. When I was a kid, we had an animal book in our home library and on one of the pages was an illustration of a prehistoric alligator, predicted to have been over fifty feet long. I had to turn quickly from that page every time I picked up the book.
I had to sum up all the courage that I could when we took our students to the Okefenokee Swamp about twenty years ago. We took that cruise down the swamp and a gator decided to play “tag” with our boat, coming up on the underside and giving us a little “nudge.” That was another instance where yours truly almost uttered a wash-my-mouth-out-with-soap word or two.
Years, later, I don’t know why I went to see “Lake Placid” when it hit the theaters. I thought it might help me get over my “alligator-phobia” but it didn’t. The scene wherein the alligator leapt from the lake and gobbled up a ten-foot bear scared the” you-know-what” out of me.
A couple of weeks ago, I was looking on a friend’s Facebook page and I saw where she had posted some brave golfers videoing two alligators fighting on the course. I can’t believe these guys getting so close to film the battling reptiles. The caption on the video said, “This is how we roll in the South.”
Well, this ain’t how this Southerner rolls.
As I said before, reincarnation is not a part of my Christian upbringing but inasmuch as we really don’t know what the “afterlife” has for us, it’s one thing to ponder, even if in a lighthearted manner.
But, as I said, I don’t want to return as a night-crawling insect scurrying to hide when someone turns on the kitchen light or an animal that is great material for a handbag or a pair of shoes.
I think I’d rather come back as the AFLAC duck.
At least, I’d have job security.
I often thought that the idea of being “reborn” as another individual has its merits. Why waste a good soul after the body has served its purpose was one of those thoughts that went through my head in my youth. The idea of being reincarnated as an animal didn’t take top priority but now that I’m pondering the topic, I know that I don’t want to “return” as either one of these two: a cockroach or a gator.
Of all of God’s creatures, those are two that I can certifiably say that I detest. Regarding the disgusting insect, I just don’t see its purpose. Yes, I know that it is a part of nature’s “waste cycle,” living up to its duty each and every day of its existence. However, I wish the little “buggers” would just disappear from the face of the earth or, at least, relocate to other parts of the country.
I remember once, years ago at school, I was trying to reach a box that was resting on a shelf high above my head. I pulled the box toward me and, unknown to me, I was inching a dead roach closer, little by little. When it reached the end, gravity took its toll and the creepy crawly fell “dead” into my eye. I uttered an “expletive” and a student of mine happened to have been in the vicinity and he said, “Oooh, Mr. Garrard, I heard you!” I told him that if a roach had fallen into your eye, you’d utter the same four-letter creation.
Of course, that story is just one of many that can be shared by anyone who lives in the South. Thus, I’m sure that I am not alone in hoping that another “life” will not be as a roach.
As far as the gator is concerned, I am terrified of them, regardless of whether they are in my physical presence or even on film and in a book. When I was a kid, we had an animal book in our home library and on one of the pages was an illustration of a prehistoric alligator, predicted to have been over fifty feet long. I had to turn quickly from that page every time I picked up the book.
I had to sum up all the courage that I could when we took our students to the Okefenokee Swamp about twenty years ago. We took that cruise down the swamp and a gator decided to play “tag” with our boat, coming up on the underside and giving us a little “nudge.” That was another instance where yours truly almost uttered a wash-my-mouth-out-with-soap word or two.
Years, later, I don’t know why I went to see “Lake Placid” when it hit the theaters. I thought it might help me get over my “alligator-phobia” but it didn’t. The scene wherein the alligator leapt from the lake and gobbled up a ten-foot bear scared the” you-know-what” out of me.
A couple of weeks ago, I was looking on a friend’s Facebook page and I saw where she had posted some brave golfers videoing two alligators fighting on the course. I can’t believe these guys getting so close to film the battling reptiles. The caption on the video said, “This is how we roll in the South.”
Well, this ain’t how this Southerner rolls.
As I said before, reincarnation is not a part of my Christian upbringing but inasmuch as we really don’t know what the “afterlife” has for us, it’s one thing to ponder, even if in a lighthearted manner.
But, as I said, I don’t want to return as a night-crawling insect scurrying to hide when someone turns on the kitchen light or an animal that is great material for a handbag or a pair of shoes.
I think I’d rather come back as the AFLAC duck.
At least, I’d have job security.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Just an update!
I received a promotion at work. I'm now the publisher for The Camilla Enterprise and The Pelham Journal newspapers of Mitchell County (GA). I'm still writing articles and columns and enjoying that aspect of the business. I'm getting accustomed to the management end and it's becoming easier, also. My papers' readers and my staff have been most supportive and I'm appreciative of them.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Chic compilation
I learned of this recent release with some truly priceless unreleased songs. Of interest to me most are the three from a long-shelved album by Johnny Mathis. Can't figure out why Columbia didn't release them. I've heard all eight on YouTube and they're really good, a different style for Mathis.
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