Stranger Than Fiction

I know that tawdry stories such as this and this can catch a person’s eye like a bad case of conjunctivitis. Life is truly sometimes stranger than fiction.

So may I humbly suggest that this weekend you focus your peepers on this instead.

Thanks to my favorite law professor for recommending Stranger Than Fiction. It’s not often that I gush over a movie rental. But this morning, I’m overflowing like Old Faithful. Will Farrell, Maggie Gyllenhall, Emma Thompson, Queen Latifah and Dustin Hoffman combine to produce a sober but soothing feast snack for the soul. There’s also a delightful reference to Space Camp for you Huntsville folks, plus some funny cameos by some guys whom you’ll recognize immediately.… Read the rest

Eat Fresh

The door to the late model Buick swung open and the first thing I saw was his feet.

And then, like a telescope unfolding and revealing it’s hidden length, he stood in segments; first the lower legs, next his thick thighs, followed by the elongated trunk, one arm and then the other. He was wearing an Auburn ball cap, its bill pushed back a little revealing rivulets of sweat forming on his forehead in response to the rising heat of an early Alabama summer. He was six foot seven if he was an inch. But as he pivoted toward the door of the Subway Sandwich Shop on Governors Drive, I saw that his height wasn’t his only prodigious proportion.… Read the rest

The Cure Is Worse Than The Disease

Having just attended a somewhat (okay very) rowdy high school graduation ceremony, this one caught my eye and made me glad that I live in Huntsville, Alabama rather than Galesburg, Illinois.

Which one do you think is worse, someone not hearing their kid’s name called when she walks across the stage, or someone walking across the stage and holding out her hand to receive her diploma only to have it taken back later? What a nice graduation picture (and memory) that last one would make.

Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.… Read the rest

Forrest Knows Best

gumpbamacoach.jpgSome of us will be headed down to Tuscaloosa later today so that Number One can attend Bama Bound, the student orientation at the University of Alabama. Needless to say, he’ll be facing some very tough decisions.

Nah, I’m not talking about classes. I figure that there’ll be plenty of sections of “N’Yuck, N’Yuck, N’Yuk–The Three Stooges in the 21st Century” and “Careers in Guitar Hero–You Too Can Be Ronnie Van Zant” to choose from.

I’m talking about more important stuff like football.

You see, since the resurgence of interest in Crimson Tide football following the hiring of multimillion dollar messiah Nick Saban, the student government moved last spring to only allow entering freshman to attend part of the scheduled home games so that more tickets could be spread around and more students could attend.… Read the rest

My Three Sons

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Fred MacMurray never had it this good.

(H/t to running buddy Joe V. and his big, long lens for the shot of Number One receiving his diploma).

Grissom High mercifully moved 469 grads through the line with machine-like efficiency.

Chaos did start to descend on the affair, though, by the time they got to the “S’s.” As the shout-outs and air horns grew louder and more boisterous, the grads who had received their diplomas returned to their seats and began to blow up the large number of inflatable balls that they had smuggled in beneath their robes.

At first the faculty members tried to confiscate the balls, but after they saw them propagating like rabbits, they finally gave up.… Read the rest

One Helluva Friend

I searched through several boxes but I couldn’t find it.

Twenty-seven years ago, I delivered the salutatorian speech at Franklin County High School in Rocky Mount, Virginia. I thought that I still had a copy of it around somewhere and had planned to post it here, but apparently it’s at my mother’s house tucked away in a box or maybe the attic.

Or maybe it’s gone for good. Probably just as good. Who needs another speech anyway?

I recall that it was about 3-4 minutes long; even then, I liked ’em short and sweet. On the morning of graduation, we came to school and read our speeches to a teacher, presumably to screen them for appropriate content.… Read the rest

Do NOT Press This Button

easy-buttion.jpgThe speaker at last night’s Grissom High Baccalaureate service was entertaining and spot on.

He basically said there were two types of buttons in life. First, there was the EASY button, and he held up just that, one of those from the Staples office supply store commercials. He told the grads that they could always take the path of least resistance, continue life in their high school mindset, and anytime they faced a difficult choice they could just reach down and hit the EASY button and hope for the best.

But, he warned, whatever you do, do NOT press this button!… Read the rest

Pretty Grads All in a Robe

Yesterday was Senior Sunday at our church. That’s “senior” as in high school, not the over-the-hill, AARP type. There were 26 seniors this year, which, as we say in the South, is a whole big mess of ’em.

They marched down the center aisle of the church, clad in their graduations robes–brown, burgundy, white, red, purple, power blue. This was the start of a new tradition this year. But just barely. It was announced last week that they would wear their robes, and as one might expect, there was a great hue and cry and a week’s worth of high drama.… Read the rest

Johnny Hu, That’s Who

Guess which Huntsville high school student was named to the First Team All-USA High School Academic Team?

Johnny Hu, that’s who.

Johnny, a friend of Number One Son at Grissom High who scored a perfect 2400 on his SAT and a perfect 36 on his ACT, was among 20 students named to the team. Of those, 15 were of Asian or Indian descent. I don’t know precisely how much genetics has to do with that (my guess is quite a bit), but I do know that many of those kids are second generation Americans whose immigrant parents have instilled in them a killer work ethic which makes me and my progeny look like absolute slouches.… Read the rest

Grave Dancing

grave-dancing.PNGI wasn’t a fan of his, but I didn’t really think he was a monster either. What ever happened to “you don’t tug on Superman’s cape, spit into the wind, pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger, mess around with Jim, or dance on someone’s grave?”

I’d like to think that when I die, no one will dance on my grave. But there’s probably someone out there who will.

“No more stinky glasses, no more stinky glasses!” they’ll joyfully bleat as they stomp and strut around my grave like a barnyard animal, stirring up a cloud of dust from the freshly dug dirt.… Read the rest

Verbal Sprawl

The more the words,
the less the meaning,
and how does that profit anyone?

–Ecclesiastes 6:11

How ironic that those words were spoken by someone named The Preacher.

We’re preparing to enter a season of senior sermons, baccalaureate services, keynote speeches and prayerful send offs. May all who dare to speak do so with modesty, a sense of the occasion, and a modicum of “fitly spoken” words.

Just say “no” to verbal sprawl.

… Read the rest