They Picked on the Wrong City

Posted on April 19, 2013 by enthusiasmiscontagious

Bostonians, have no tolerance for terrorists and tyranny, no stomach for injustice or traitors. Boston detests inequality. Massachusetts was the first state to have the courage to ban slavery. Boston today is much like the Boston of old, it overflows with brave Patriots. Whoever perpetrated this despicable act at the Boston Marathon had best take notice, you picked on the wrong city.

On a frigid November day in 1620 after being tossed about the sea for over two months, a small band of pilgrims landed on the Massachusetts coast after leaving England. Despite the enormity of the task before them, they stumbled ashore and kissed the ground out of gratitude.

Just a scant few weeks before the most bitter winter would fully set in, these brave pilgrims had no homes, no stored goods, no knowledge of the dangers they faced, but they were grateful. With their backs to the sea, undaunted they set about creating a barrier from the extreme elements while keeping their eyes open in case one of their myths of cannibals and wild beasts were true.

These inhabitants were so stout, that they had buckles on their shoes and their hats. This toughness served to prepare them for the American Revolution in 1775. The city of Boston was under siege by British troops for eleven months. During that time the occupants never wavered under the duress.

The city of Boston has had it’s recent trials with the “Curse of the Bambino”; the longest drought in professional sports history. The curse, a Red Sox championship drought, lasted 86 years. Generations saw dreams crushed and hopes dashed, but it was always parsed with the words, “wait till next year kid!” In 2004 the faithful was rewarded, the city had it’s championship.

Bostonians by birth are not taught the words “give up” nor will they shrink in the face of fear. The Revolutionary War may be over after 238 years, but make no mistake. Boston’s history still reminds us of one important truth, this city still brims with Patriots. Take note terrorists, be scared because you sure picked the wrong city.

 

 

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Social Media Ad Nauseum

Posted on April 15, 2013 by enthusiasmiscontagious

I understand that there is an evolutionary process to life, nothing stays the same, but when it comes to the social media giant, I’ve had enough. Facebook should be renamed Faceplant. It is the antithesis of my life and it’s falling flat on it’s face with me.

Consider the lexicon we have come to use thanks to Facebook. Statements like”I read my wall this morning.” Is it me or does that sound like I’m in a cheap gas station bathroom? 75% of all the posts I get on “my wall” lately, seems to offer me some social cause I could care less about. “Save the asthmatic aardvark” if you agree, forward this to all your friends.” What’s my penalty if I don’t?

In my opinion, Facebook should be updates on family happenings not controversial social causes. It should be vacation pictures not political punditry and flame-throwing analysis. Yes, as a matter of fact I do love the Lord, but do I have to forward that I love Him to 300 friends otherwise He won’t believe me? I don’t want to argue why you chose to be a member of the Bi-monthly Universal Seven-day Bible Thumping Church of Laodicean Vegan Apostates. Save that for my next visit in your home. Or better yet, choose to live your sermon instead of typing it out and putting a damper on my information highway rest stop.

I have seen pictures of bedraggled dogs, abused pets, displaced owls, splattered motorcyclists, beat up housewives, all accompanied with the caption, “forward this picture if you’re against this.” Excuse me, but I’m against dirty diapers, I don’t need a picture to remind me why?

On the other hand, I find Facebook cringe worthy when friends post odd statements such as; I lost my nose in a pet ferret attack. My quandary is, if I don’t want to comment, wouldn’t hitting the “Like” button appear just a tad bit callous?

I am aware that many of my acquaintances have uncontrolled yearnings in asking me for farm equipment, animals, crops and gaming slots. I wonder what my friends would have said if years ago I’d hounded them by mail every week with requests for Lego’s, marbles and monopoly money?

Additionally I find it a bit creepy to have a complete stranger send you a request that says, “I want to friend you?” and they look like a homeless person from Sheboygan. It gives me the same feeling I had as a 10 year boy being offered candy by a stranger in a trench coat.

So if I don’t take the friend request, skip forwarding the lucky leprechaun, or fail to protect the Double Breasted Red-Bellied Hickenlooper, what is really going to be my fate?

I don’t know, but to be sure if I were you, I’d pass this article on to at least ten friends lest a band of angry midgets with Napoleon Complex assault your knee caps with ball pein hammers.

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Honoring a Special Woman

Posted on April 11, 2013 by enthusiasmiscontagious

Today I feel like the man who stood at a swanky affair with glass raised and loudly stated, “For all the years I’ve spent in the arms of another man’s wife.” When everyone gasped, he simply added, “cheers to my Mother.”

Today I honor her, because it is her birthday. If you didn’t know it, my mother was sainted on December 11, 1960 when she gave birth to a baby girl. In her life, she would accomplish a feat few would undertake or want. She would give birth to a baby girl then ten months later give birth to twin boys. Three children in a year. I cringe when people say you and your sister are chunky, but your brother is not. Yes I know he’s over six feet tall and thin as a rail. It is after this comment that I usually offer the most plausible explanation; my mother fed me and my sister while Dad fed my brother.

So, why am I convinced of her elevated saint status; as if having three children in a year isn’t enough? The proof is how busy we kept her! Distracted outside for mere moments, my brother and I at the age of two took advantage of her absence by liberally slathering a complete tube of Desitin (cod liver oil diaper rash cream) all over our bodies. We didn’t forget to generously plaster the hair on our heads either. Looking like two pygmy pot belly pigs, it took a few weeks of intense washing with lots of soap to free the last vestiges of this oily axle grease knock-off, off our little bodies. My mother was forever sold on how effective that diaper cream performed. Tubes can still be found in her medicine cabinet and it wouldn’t surprise me if she purchased stock in the company.

Aside from her many talents, she is described in her high school senior yearbook as a “great cook, fun-loving, and mischievous.” I’m convinced a lot can be determined about an individual simply by their laugh. My mother’s laugh is like her Dad’s, a full on belly laugh. Anyone nearby can’t help but be drawn into her revelry.

Growing up in northern New England, it was the highlight on our way to our grandparents home in the shadows of Mt. Washington, to swim along the shores of Lake Chocorua, New Hampshire. Though the water terrified me as a small child, my mother loved to swim. To minimize my apprehension, she would hoist me on her back and glide through the water like a swan. It was then that I found I could finally enjoy life because she lifted me above my fears. Some things never change.

I could regale numerous stories about her mischievousness but if she found out I shared them, it would make my Christmas vacation at her house unbearable. Besides, she still has tubes of Desitin in the cupboard, it could be payback time.

Happy Birthday Mom.

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Put the Fun in Funeral

Posted on April 8, 2013 by enthusiasmiscontagious

There comes a moment in every person’s life when their own expiration date is given more thought than usual. It occurred to me on two separate occasions. The first occasion was when I went to lunch with a buddy of mine in Silver City, NM some years ago. I was all of 37 years of age and the young cashier at the restaurant gave me the senior citizens discount. The second time was when a cute young woman who I mistook for flirting actually said to me, “I think you’re great, you remind me of my Dad.”

When did my life go from Spin the Bottle to Spin the Hot Water Bottle? Whatever happened, it went by all too fast. I attended a funeral service recently for a great man. He was beloved and the proof was in the amount of flowers at his memorial service. I counted in excess of 26 large floral arrangements. While it perked up the dreary atmosphere a tad, I thought to myself, what an irony about life and death. We give flowers to individuals who can’t smell them and we say the most beautiful things about an individual one week too late.

I remember the story of a husband and wife. The wife out of the blue, asked her husband, “If anything ever happens to me, would you remarry?” Without blinking an eye, the husband quickly responded, “Of course I would.”

A little shaken by the quickness of his answer the wife said, “Well, would you let her wear my clothes?” Of course, you have a closet full,” said the husband. “Would you let her drive my car?” Yes it’s paid for.” Clearly angry with his flippant answers she then added, “would you let her use my golf clubs?” He quickly and emphatically said, “No, absolutely not, never!” Shocked at his response she said, “Why would you let her use everything except my golf clubs?” He said, “She’s left-handed!” I can only surmise the next words spoken by the wife were, “and that Your Honor is when I hit him with the frying pan!”

I have great respect for individuals who are planners, however this man threw extreme caution to the wind. When my insurance agent asked me, “what motivates you to live?” I told him I didn’t want my insurance policy to subsidize some young guy making the moves on my wife after I had stepped off my earthly carousel ride.

I have given much thought after performing a myriad amount of funeral services that I want my service to be unique. I am cognizant that the first three letters in the word funeral is fun so that’s what I want. No, I don’t necessarily want a recital of my repertoire of lame jokes nor do I want any flowers save maybe one rose. What I want in place of the flowers, I want sweet rolls and cakes all over the floral shelves. Afterwards, all the delicacies can be shared with my friends and the extras taken to a homeless shelter. I figure, if anyone should hear my name for the first or last time, I want it to leave a sweet taste in their mouth. That would be fun. 🙂

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