EX Marks the Spot . . .Musings from a Has-Been

5/9/12

Just Like Old Times?

We never stop learning, and that’s a good thing. And sometimes we can be quite surprised by what we learned.

Just recently, our high school class marked 45 years since graduation. Many members of the Lexington High School Class of ’67 gathered, some with spouses, some without.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have any of our teachers with us but we did have our principal, Joe Bedenbaugh.

What we learned – and what we were surprised about - was that our high school principal actually has a sense of humor. Maybe it’s a new persona for Joe Bedenbaugh. Then again, maybe he has had a sense of humor forever and we just didn’t know it.

We were all scared to death of the man. He was tall, always in a dark suit, and seemed quite formidable.

Getting sent to the principal’s office was not a treat or a reward, of course. No one ever bragged about making an assigned visit to see the principal. No one ever wanted to take home a note to have a parent call the principal. No student ever wanted to see a parent chatting with the principal at a football game or anywhere else.

When Joe Bedenbaugh was recognized at the class reunion, he stood – still as tall as ever – and, lo and behold, he smiled! And then he said a few funny things.

Could this be, was this really the same man who struck fear into our very beings in high school?

He told us he had attended a Newberry College reunion where someone told him he was looking more like himself than he used to! (Go figure that one out!)

As I ate my meal that night, someone came over to me, leaned down and said, “Mr. Bedenbaugh would like to see you.”

Forty-five years later and, just like old times, those words still caused me to gulp. Turns out, he just wanted to tell me he enjoys reading my weekly newspaper column, which is usually on my blog as well.

So, Mr. Bedenbaugh, this one’s for you!

And, by the way, thanks for reading. That means we’re now up to about four regular readers.

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4/3/12

I No Longer Have Any Uncles

I no longer have any uncles. It’s an odd feeling, since we have a relatively good-sized family.

The last of my uncles was Boice Porth, who died Friday at the age of 92.

A life-long farmer, he was buried in his overalls; his last ride, from the church to the cemetery, was courtesy of a John Deere tractor.

Boice was a salt-of-the-earth kind of person and a good man, a hard worker and a generous person. He was the first farmer in the area to install an irrigation system on a farm and the first to grow collards year ‘round.

He was the one who had me picking cotton on his farm and also cutting grapes. I wasn’t very good at either, or at least it’s fair to say I wasn’t very productive.

He liked music and had a good singing voice, although most people didn’t know that. And he had a great sense of humor, but since he was a man of few words, not everyone knew of his humorous side.

Eleven years ago, when my dad was in his last hours, Mom asked me to call Boice to find out about burial space in the family plot of our church cemetery, since the space was somewhat limited.

So, I did. Boice’s only response about the burial plot was this: “First come, first served.”

After Dad’s funeral, someone commented to Boice, “I guess you lost a brother-in-law.”

Boice replied, “No, what I lost was a friend.”

That’s what the rest of us lost this week.

3/26/12

Is It Music?

Just the other day, my friend Iris and I were in a place where there was music playing the background.

Except it wasn’t really music. It was what some people call “music” these days, but it wasn’t real music.

Today’s hits have titles like “Young, Wild and Free,” “A__ Back Home,” “Set Fire to the Rain,” and “Drive By.”

Even when the titles are okay, it’s hard to understand the lyrics (even those we might want to understand – as opposed to those we don’t) and it’s difficult to find a tune in what some call “songs.”

Iris and I asked the guy to play some real music. He asked, “Like what?”

And we responded that we liked Frank Sinatra, for example. And Perry Como and Andy Williams. The Righteous Brothers and the Everly Brothers. No, we're not from another planet. An earlier time? Yes, maybe that explains it.

What about Sam Cooke, Simon & Garfunkle, Al Green? They made music.

I started looking through old sheet music for some of the familiar and favorite melodies. I found beautiful music: “Melody of Love,” “Fascination,” “When I Grow to Old to Dream,” “Red Sails in the Sunset,” “Moon River,” "Wonderland by Night," "Misty" and more. That was real music.

But I also found that today’s hits aren’t the only ones with unusual titles. Some of the ones from yesteryear: “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree With Anyone Else But Me,” “Chong, He Came From Hong Kong,” “Throw Another Log on the Fire,” "Shoo-Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy," "Any Little Girl Can Make a Bad Man Good," "I'm Tying the Leaves So They Won't Come Down," “Sam, You Made the Pants Too Long,” “Ma, He’s Making Eyes at Me,” “Bury Me Out on the Prairie,” and, one of my favorites, “How Could You Believe Me When I Said I Loved You (When You Know I’ve Been a Liar All My Life)?”

Even with odd-sounding names, the music had a tune and it had a soul.

Ah, for the good ol’ days!

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3/21/12

Just a Few Things . . .

A short while back, I received a large manila envelope in the mail, and what a surprise I found inside.

There was a certificate saying I had been given an honorary membership in the Lutheran Men in Mission in South Carolina. It was accompanied by a lapel pin.

The notation on the certificate said this was given for my service on Synod Council (SC Synod of ELCA) and for my newspaper column! (I usually post a copy of the weekly column on this blog, including this post, and on Facebook.)

Imagine that! This was a complete shock because I’ve only known of three people who read my column. Maybe there’s a fourth one out there somewhere.

Anyway, thanks so much to the Lutheran Men in Mission and thanks to the four or so people who read – or at least skim – the column each week.

Now, on to other matters, specifically this question: If you could create a holiday or observance, what would it be? The reason I ask is that next week – on the 26^th – we have “Make Up Your Own Holiday Day.” So, what would yours be?

Quite frankly, it’s hard to think of something that doesn’t have its own day of celebration already.

Seriously. Just in the second half of March, there are days set aside for these:

Pencil Day,

Mule Day,

Niagara Falls Runs Dry Day,

Barnum & Bailey Day,

National “She’s Funny That Way” Day,

National Mom & Pop Business Owner’s Day,

Pecan Day,

Grass Is Always Browner On The Other Side Of The Fence Day,

Near Miss Day,

National Day of Unplugging,

National Chocolate Covered Raisins Day,

International Goof-off Day,

Corn Dog Day,

National Common Courtesy Day

and even Viagra Day.

And this is just a partial list.

Like I said, it’s hard to find something not already given its special day.

Maybe the four readers of my column can celebrate “Hold Your Breath and Read This Column Day.” Celebration or not, thanks to you four, wherever you are!

So, what would YOUR day be?

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3/16/12

Supper With the Boys

The Duppster and I had the two grandsons over the weekend.

Harrison is almost four; Fisher is 14 months. What this means is that we had our hands full.

Sunday meant Sunday School and church and we made it through much, much better than we feared. Now THAT was something for which to give thanks!

Fortunately, there are several neighborhood children, so both boys were able to play outside with others in the afternoon. That was yet another reason for thanksgiving.

Meal time was something else. Fisher has learned to say “cracker” and continually asks for crackers, even while eating something else.

Sunday night, after a long but enjoyable day, it was time for supper and I wasn’t sure what to fix in a hurry that Harrison would eat and that Dupp liked.

Well, as it turns out, both Harrison and Dupp love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Voila! That would be the perfect quick supper, even though we had to use different kinds of jelly based on personal preferences. Wouldn’t you know it?

Harrison was at the table, gobbling down his peanut butter and (blackberry) jelly sandwich, when he turned to me and said, “This is just a fake supper. Right?”