The Genuine Article

Posted on October 10, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

Some things in life can’t be duplicated. Only the original article will ever do. I found out the hard way when my wife sent me to the store for pickles and ketchup for our cookout. Thinking my taste buds would not recognize my frugality, I was grossly mistaken. The pickles I love are always crisp and crunchy. The knock-off store brand which I purchased, tasted like vinegar gummy worms. The signals my taste buds sent to my brain was, “spit out the limp dog biscuit”!” I immediately banished the pickle imposters to the round file and secretly prayed that a curious raccoon would not find the jar. I feared the whole raccoon population would band together and assault my garbage cans out of spite because they were duped too. The ketchup wasn’t any better. It tasted like somebody poured boiling water over a tomato and bottled the puddle of water. It too found it’s rightful place next to the pickles on it’s great adventure to a county landfill. Nothing but the genuine article for me from now on!

I imagine life is like the less than stellar ketchup. People appear like the genuine article; they have a familiar look, exude charm, appear just right. However after one encounter, the taste some people leave in your mouth can be a whole other matter.

I yearn for a world where I can walk into a store and I won’t be frazzled by children whose parents are too lazy to raise their children with respect. I want to walk into a voting booth and pull the lever for a candidate without having to hold my nose. I want to read a newspaper or see a news program where a person who professes to be a faithful follower of any and all religions of peace not embarrass the tenets of their faith by acting like destructive morons. I believe the world does not need another fiery sermon or oratory, it needs a positive life lesson from someone genuine, done without words.

A do-it-yourself pastor decided one day that his back yard needed a new arbor. His wife had been asking for one for some time so he decided to get out his toolbox and get to work. A young neighborhood boy sat nearby watching intently. After a few hours, the pastor said to the child, “Are you watching me to see how you build an arbor?” The little boy replied, “No.” The pastor responded, “then why have you been sitting here watching me for so long?” The little boy replied with purpose, “Because I always wanted to know what a pastor said when he hit his thumb with a hammer!”

Secretly, we’ve all wondered that same question. But being a Pastor I’m not telling! But come to my house and build a gazebo with me, and I’m confident you’ll find the answer, and hopefully the genuine article too!

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Murphy’s Law at the Airport

Posted on October 8, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

I took a round-trip flight out of Nashville to Denver recently or as I like to call it, I got my annual physical. Don’t believe me? The moment I arrived at the airport, I checked my bags and dignity at the door. I stood in line with people I didn’t know, had to partially disrobe, received a full body x-ray with my arms in the air, and had strange hands running up and down my body (my sweat between my shoulder blades kicked off a warning). An electric wand was used on me to save me the additional indignity of having to cough. The greatest obstacle to the security line is how quickly you must put your clothes back on after going through security. I couldn’t have dressed faster than if my changing room curtain fell down in a department store and I was facing the checkout line.

Murphy’s law (the one that says if anything can go wrong it will) stipulates that whatever airline ticket you purchase, you are going to leave from the furthest gate possible from the entrance. I left at gate 48 and 49 respectfully at both airports. Bring a pedometer, towel and track suit, you’ll feel like you finished a half marathon by the time you get to your departure gate.

I must say though that there was a Disneyesque feel about the place. Like fans of Peter Pan, we embarked to a far off Never Never Land, our luggage hopefully the only ones clueless to their final destination.

I did arrive in Denver full of wonder. I wondered how to get to the baggage claim and wondered where to pick up my hotel transport. I navigated to the hotel shuttle island only to find that I had missed my ride by 5 minutes. The wait would be another hour. So I sat outside on my metal bench without a jacket in 55 degree weather and tried to imagine that I wasn’t sitting in a meat locker.

I arrived at my hotel tired, cold, famished, and breathless. I was after all in the Mile High City. My scant adventure would be over in 24 hours and I’d be traveling back home the very next day.

I’d tell you I loved the experience and it was exhilarating, but like another Disney character, my nose would give me away.

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Don’t Ask Me for Advice

Posted on October 5, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

There is nothing that irritates me more than someone asking my advice and then not take it. It doesn’t matter if it’s your own child, friend, or politician. Someone asking you for advice anymore is like a stranger saying in an elevator, “how you are doing?” The truth of the matter is they don’t care, it’s only mindless chatter! In the past year I have been sought for advice on things as diverse as pets, cars, relationships, money, and politics. Here is my rate of success; Those seeking my advice-compared to those who actually listened? 150-0.

Later on, the conversation goes something like this with friends; moaning, my stupid new dog ate a box of crayons and hurled a psychedelic mole hill on the carpet; the vet bill was outrageous! My taxes are killing me, the used car I bought was a lemon, I can’t believe how few brain cells my congressman possesses. It’s at this point that I’m biting my cheek to the point of going through it to keep from saying, “I TOLD YOU SO!!!”

Nope, from now on, I don’t care if my clothes are tattered and torn and I look like I just walked through a pit bull yard with Milk Bone underwear. When asked how am I doing?, I’m always going to answer with a broad smile, “I couldn’t be better” to avoid unsolicited conversation and advice!

When someone wants my take on politics I’ll tell them, “Sorry, I’m a member of the Whig Party.” Pets? I’m allergic to their dander. Raising children? Sorry mine ran away. Money? Nope, I lost my whole investment portfolio in pygmy ant farm futures.

Marriage advice? I’ll offer only one! Men, no matter what the conversation, look in the mirror and practice saying over and over again, “I was wrong, can I do the dishes?”

Four men were on a fishing trip and while waiting for the fish to bite, they were telling each other their marital woes. One complained his wife was moody, the other one said his was too selfish, yet another said he got yelled at all the time for absolutely nothing. When asking the fourth man how his wife was, he commented, “I have no complaints, my wife is an angel!” Taking off their hats with reverence they said, “We had no idea, when did she pass?”

This story offers proof that three things occur when someone presents to you a problem. First, they aren’t open to advice, second, they don’t want anyone fixing the problem they’d rather complain about it, and third, even if they do listen, they’ll get it wrong.

I think Lucy in the Peanuts cartoon had it right, she charged five cents for advice. While that may be all my advice is worth to most, I’m kicking myself knowing I could have made $7.50 tax free this past year.

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When people don’t make sense

Posted on October 3, 2012 by enthusiasmiscontagious

I guess the hardest thing to get used to nowadays, is the unending penchant of young Americans to add footnotes to their bodies. You know; nose rings, chains from ear to lip, spiked or multicolored hair tufts, or garish body art of different dimensions.

Our last family vacation took place in Daytona Beach, Florida. If you ever thought of a place for people-watching as a hobby, Daytona is it. Of course, I don’t recommend spring break as a haven for marital bliss. With all the beach beauties, you not only risk whiplash, but corrective discipline from your wife. The only benefit of course, is you can save a bundle on Digitalis (heart stimulant medication).

It was the lazy part of the afternoon when I caught a glimpse of a very impressive young lady wearing a bathing suit that could have been washed in a thimble. Tanned and attractive, my opinion of her was dramatically altered the moment she passed by. It was then I noticed a huge American Eagle tattooed on her right caboose. I suppose if you were a member of the Audubon Society it could have brought a sense of exhilaration, but to me I felt sorry for her. I mean, right now it looked like an eagle, but what about 50 years from now? At the age of 70, how is she going to explain to her grandchildren that it is still an eagle and not a picture of a pigeon that was hit by a pickup truck?

Even today I feel a sense of bewilderment when I see perfectly healthy young men shaving their heads bald, for no earthly reason. I’d love to sport new hair; right now I look like a roll-on deodorant. But years from now these same men will probably be the ones who will bathe in Minoxidil so they can have real hair to attend their 20th high school reunion.

I’ve been out of high school three decades. My children laugh at my high school pictures that show me wearing a now out-of-date tie or wide collars on my shirts. What are the children of today’s generation going to laugh about when they see their parents’ pictures twenty years from now? A face that has so much metal on it that it looks like a fly-fishing lure display at a bait shop, or hair that looks like it was yanked out and styled by a Hoover?

We need to impress upon young people this message: If you don’t stop the insidious practice of marring your bodies, Moms across America are going to drag out their orange hip-huggers and halter tops, and Dads are going to dust off their pea green leisure suits and attend school with you. If this doesn’t scare them, I don’t know what will!

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