Greenbeans

Flying Squirrels...

2011-05-08T08:27:00.000-04:00

...are not uncommon in SC, but due to their shy demeanor and nocturnal nature they are rarely seen. Except if you happen to wander in my backyard, where if you peek in any number of "bird houses" you may find this mother and her babies. She's been moving from house to house each night after she has been discovered by me or one of the kids.
And what's the easiest way to tell that she's nocturnal? Check out the size of those eyes.

19 Years Ago...

2011-05-02T14:05:00.000-04:00

...today, I married my wife right about now- 2:00pm. It was then, and remains, the best decision of my life.

(Part 2) Leslie And I Had A Night Without Kids...

2011-04-24T21:11:00.003-04:00

... recently, so we decided to try a local restaurant for the first time in quite a while. Now Lexington Arms Restaurant and Lounge has been serving food to locals since the 1970s. In fact, the place still looks like 1975 and the only things missing are lava lamps, a couple of beanbags and a cigarette machine at the front door. The clientele too are generally silver haired and have put in an extra bit of Super Poligrip in celebration of Prime Rib Friday.

Leslie and I looked around and for a moment thought about leaving, but we were already in the door and seated. We were sort of trapped anyway because as we were being hurriedly whisked to our seats, the waitress had given us the "...it's kinda slow tonight" routine, which basically is like saying I need your paltry tip so that my 4 children can eat. Besides, I do love prime rib.

As I sat buttering my bread, I looked at Leslie and said, "We are our grandparents". And, at that moment, we really were, sitting there in a totally outdated "lounge", surrounded by groups of chattering retirees. We were soon all heartily eating our medium rare prime rib, sipping a small glass of wine, munching our bread. I pictured us also eating congealed aspic salad, some warm prunes and finishing it all off with a cup of decaff, perhaps a small slice of hummingbird cake.

"Did you enjoy your meal, dear?"
"Darned tootin', Sweety, that was one peach of a meal. Now let's go home and get ready for bed- decaff is kicking in and it's almost half past 8. If we hurry, we can catch a 60 Minutes rerun."

Another night without kids wasted. My sciatica was acting up anyway!

Happy Easter!

2011-04-24T12:18:00.000-04:00

Wishing you all a happy and joyful Easter. The Greens

(Part 1) Thus Begins...

2011-04-20T22:21:00.001-04:00

...several new blogs on Greenbeans concerning Growing Older. I'm taking on this challenge for a couple of reasons. The biggest reason being that several of my childhood friends are beginning to look rather... worn. I use the word "worn" because I'd like to start a movement to actually lose the word "old" as a description of a person. In my mind, "old" seems to signify that the value of that person is declining and the end is in sight, while "worn" seems more of a description of a favorite pair of tennis shoes- a bit frayed and not as crisp as they once were, but nonetheless worthy of a few more washings and a jog around the neighborhood.

And that's exactly how I feel about my "worn" friends. They still have great value to me, even in the face of their fading and fraying, sagging and graying minds and bodies. Through mutual appreciations and sometimes frictions, we have been worn in a way which makes each of us feel very comfortable, the rough edges smoothed by time. My friendships are now more about reclining and listening rather than posturing and building. My oldest friends and I built the foundations of these relationships many years ago, and everyone knows that those are the hardest years to weather. We have eroded in the some of the same ways and also frayed and frazzled in different areas that somehow compliment the other; that somehow serve to bolster and renew our longtime kinships.

Yes, my friends are in so many ways like my worn and comfortable tennis shoes. In fact, I think I'll take a few of them for a jog around the my neighborhood. But please, have the paramedics on speed dial.

Illness Does Not Affect Individuals...

2011-04-11T09:20:00.001-04:00

..but rather it also affects all those who love and care for the patient. While it is true that I have only been a patient a handful of times in my life, I learned first hand the challenges of a patient dealing with a chronic illness. While some diseases can dramatically shorten a persons life, all diseases will alter the trajectory of a life in big or small ways. That's true of both the patient and their family.

I was 8 years old when my mother was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. What started then as a strange numbing of half of her body and debilitating days of exhaustion eventually grew into more visible, permanent symptoms of the disease. The days of watching my mother run or me playing basketball with her in the driveway, slowly ended with the diagnosis of that disease. Throughout the course of more than 30 years her symptoms have progressed from a slight limp that slowed her down to her daily confinement in a wheelchair. She remembers much of her life in milestones marked by the loss of abilities or the complications of the disease- the day she could no longer drive; when she could no longer feed herself; the time she fell from her wheelchair and broke both of her legs.

As a patient, she has been poked and prodded, admitted and observed. Throughout her journey she's received competent care and beautifully delivered compassion. At times along the way, however, she has also been mismanaged, misdiagnosed and forgotten. She's been prescribed medicines which worked well to provide a better quality to her life and occasionally has taken medicines in which the benefits did not outweigh the side effects. In solemn conversations held in sterile examination rooms she's been given probabilities of life expectancy, predictions regarding her limited and shrinking abilities and in some rare instances, hope.

Having seen her live it, I sometimes wonder what I would be like as a patient with a chronic disease. Would I have the stamina and courage my mother has displayed through the years? Would I have the same deep-seated faith and hope that she lives by? I can only hope that I would. After all, I've learned much from her over the years and she remains the greatest example of how I should face challenges in my life.

As a longtime representative for a pharmaceutical company, I often try to envision the perspective of the patient. I attempt to look through their lens, modeling my behavior to be honorable to him or to her. I think that by providing the correct and balanced information to the patient's healthcare provider I can make a dramatic and positive difference in the life of their patient. And not only the patient's life, but the lives of those who love and care for them. That's the best kind of job. They may never know the role that I play, but that's alright. I know, and that keeps me going. And the life and hope of my own mother keeps me focused on the most important element of healthcare, the patient.

NASA's Messenger...

2011-03-31T21:10:00.003-04:00

...spacecraft has released its first image of Mercury -- the first ever glimpse of the innermost planet's dusty craters taken by a craft in orbit just over 120 miles from the planet's surface. Mercury has the greatest range of surface temperatures of any planet in the solar system. This ranges from -300°F on the dark side of the planet to 800°F in the late afternoon. A single day is represented by slightly less than 60 earth days.

I've always been fascinated with Astronomy and in fact I sometimes enjoy breaking out the family telescope. On a clear night when company has come over and joined me on the back patio I will sometimes set up that telescope, occasionally allowing guests to see their first view of the moon through the lens, shadowed craters and debris fields visible.

There's something about a dead planet or our own moon that makes the creation of this earth come alive for me. Earth is a living planet for many reasons. Water, atmosphere, the perfect rotation balanced by the perfect moon the exact distance from a perfectly energized sun. While there are many coincidences in this world- our world is not one.

As Messenger and other satellites like it continue on their journeys, taking amazing pictures of lifeless planets, let's celebrate our own vibrant and living planet- always thankful of the perfect one who created her.

Cotillion...

2011-03-28T15:39:00.000-04:00

...is one of those words rarely used and not easily spelled. The traditional meaning is simply, "A ball used for society to introduce young ladies". In my house, it has become synonymous with "manners class" or that "embarrassing dance class" that occurs every few weeks. In any case, both of my daughters have participated and, I think, enjoyed it to a degree though they would never admit it.

Last night, I was proud to accompany my youngest daughter, Jenna, to a Cotillion Ball. She was lovely and so grown up looking. After the dance, we enjoyed dinner together and it was a special evening. She is growing up fast. And she's a great dancer to boot. Looks like those lessons are paying off.

Grant, George's son, was also there. Here he tells Melba to, "... put a little something in the punch to kick it up a notch, and be quick about it. I've got to get back out there and win a dance contest." Grant walked away with 2 dance contest recognitions that night.

A Few Weeks Back...

2011-03-17T17:33:00.000-04:00

...I attended a funeral with my Father. It was the funeral of an old friend of my dad and his brother Warren. In health, Phil had been an energetic man with a keen wit, who could play a guitar like nobody's business. Long ago he married my Dad's first cousin Wanda, a talented singer and musician in her own right, and for many years they performed together as a duo or with a band. The last four months of his life Phil was frail and weak, battling small cell lung cancer with little hope of recovery; the music silent.

Wanda asked my Dad to give a eulogy and he was very honored to do so. As a part of the eulogy Dad read a letter that my Uncle Warren had written about Phil. Warren and Phil had been inseparable friends in the early years of life and part of the letter relayed a story from their childhood which I will attempt to paraphrase:

It seems that Warren and Phil were always getting into some sort of trouble back then and even at the age of 9 or 10 they tried to find ways to make a little extra money. While some boys that age might consider raking a yard or doing some light manual labor for a couple of dollars, Phil's ideas always seemed more centered around business to business propositions. The idea of selling something just seemed more appealing and from his perspective there was an endless supply of resources to fulfill the needs of the locals. For example, his grandfather had a beautiful garden overflowing with beans, cucumbers, tomatoes- perfectly free for the taking...should you not get caught. And they never did, creating a relatively lucrative business in the neighborhood. Demand was high- cost of goods low (free)- profits high and all parties happy. That is, with the exception of Grandpa who scratched his head in dismay at what must have been the worst infestation of rabbits and green bean eating deer he had seen in 50 years.

On one occasion, Phil and Warren were walking along the railroad tracks and from the corner of his eye, Phil spotted an old, discarded commode laying along the wood-line. Hearing a train approaching in the distance, the boys decided to see what would happen should pieces of the commode be run over by a speeding freight train. Using large rocks, they began breaking the discarded crapper into hand sized pieces and eagerly piled it on the tracks. Soon enough the powerful train ran over the pieces of white porcelain creating a puff of dust, crushing them into a fine white powder.

This, of course, stirred in Phil an idea. His sister had a couple of lovely powder boxes sitting in the bathroom. Having "borrowed" the boxes, Phil and Warren filled them with the newly created white dust now piled on the railroad tracks. And you guessed it, a new door to door sales product was introduced to the unsuspecting public. Phil and Warren's Toilet Powder was born.

And both boxes sold by mid afternoon.

So I Get This Call...

2011-03-14T11:16:00.000-04:00

...the other day from my friend Rickwell who says that he'd like to write about the Greenbeans Blog. Rick's opinion of my musings in this forum are particularly interesting to me because he, along with another longtime pal- George, got me involved in blogging in the first place.

Thanks, Rickwell, for the plug and for the encouragement. You have brought some added joy to my life with the introduction of posting my thoughts and for that I am grateful.

To see what Rick penned, click here:
http://socialmediatoday.com/rick-stilwell/277765/your-blog-sucks-these-don-t-why

I'm Feeling Sorry For Charlie Sheen...

2011-03-10T18:44:00.001-05:00

...these days. He's gained far more notoriety as a nut-case than he ever did as a serious actor. Watching him slowly dismantle, while entertaining millions I suppose, serves as a stark reminder of how fleeting fame and the power that comes with it can be. And for that matter, how little a distinction there can be between being famous and infamous. While the world likes a "success" story, they absolutely love a "fall from grace" story. And when you are the sole author of your own demise, well that's just the makings of the best kind of tale.

"What Do You Mean It's March Already",...

2011-03-01T21:00:00.000-05:00

...I heard myself exclaim. 1/6th of 2011 has been dedicated to annals of history and I haven't accomplished a dad-blamed thing! I'm doing more with less at work, which translates into the fact that it's sloooowly killing me. I haven't done the exceptional things I want to do as a husband, a father, a brother or a son. I'm getting fatter and lazier by the day and don't care as much as I should. To be honest with you, I don't even feel that good these days.

And to top it all off, I really don't even have a topic that goes with this picture. In a self-deprecating way I just thought it was funny.

Any takers for a caption for the above picture???

I Was Just Wondering...

2011-02-19T17:59:00.000-05:00

...why people with bumper stickers all over their car find it necessary to make public statements about their personal beliefs. I would equate it to someone in line at the grocery store looking in your buggy and making comments about how they think your life should be.

"I see you have a whole chicken in there. Hmmm, I would never support the massive, industry coordinated death of a living creature to feed my insatiable hunger for meat."

"Well, I would and it's delicious. Now please move along- don't you have some candles or soap to make?" I would say this as I unloaded my sausage and steak onto the conveyor belt.

"Coexist"? I thought I was. "Cat on board"? I prefer babies. "Don't Blame Me, I Didn't Vote For Him"? Now I'm just confused. Who are we talking about and who cares anyway? If you feel so compelled to spout your beliefs on the back of you car, then please allow me to say what I would to any common loudmouth in the grocery store line- "Thanks for your opinion but I'll form my own thank you. Oh, and "Have A Nice Day"!

(Part 4) In Conclusion...

2011-01-24T22:23:00.001-05:00

...I lay on my back in the snow, battered and bruised, staring at the moving gray clouds above. The charge had been a disaster and my brother, finally coming to his senses, sat whimpering behind an oak tree. Into view, standing above me suddenly appeared a giant smirking face and my former friend, Timmy. "You want some more of that, chump?", the giant said, Timmy nervously laughing by his side, snowballs still in his hands. I couldn't respond. I fought the urge to tear up; the time for heroism was gone.

The two victors began to slowly walk away, but not before the goon kicked some loose snow in my face and Timmy lobbed another snowball as Scott. It was a final show of power and a mortal blow to the Green boy's egos. As Timmy and the giant walk back home we could hear them laughing, relishing in their triumph.

My sadness over the situation began to turn to anger. Those turds had cheated for one thing and they had hurt my little brother for another. As the two figures laughed and walked further away, my anger grew. Laying in the freezing snow didn't seem to cool me down. I found myself being picked up off of the ground, snow in each hand. I felt that snow being packed tightly in my gloves, forming the perfect projectile for exacting a bit of vengeance. The two cheaters, now quite small in the distance, laughed again. Something popped in my head and I felt my arm cock back and my vision hone in on one key area; the top of the giant goon's head. All else in the periphery had gone fuzzy. The top of the boy's crew-cut may as well have been a target as I felt myself take a hopping step forward, exacting my full weight behind a lunging heave of a throw.

The snowball left my hand and swinging arm which looked something akin to the minute hand of a clock in fast motion with a perfect release at 1 o'clock. This created a wide arcing lob, the zenith reaching some 30 feet high. The snowball gained speed as it fell, reaching terminal velocity as its downward force of gravity equaled the upward force of drag. Timmy and the giant continued to walk farther away, laughing, unaware of the approaching frozen projectile.

I have sometimes felt that God physically intervenes in my daily activities. And as a 10 year old child, I felt as if God Himself directed that snowball. As an adult, looking back on the situation, I am certain of it. The snowball crashed into the unprotected head of the bully, exploding, sending him prostrate onto the pavement. He was out. Timmy turned around stunned, his crooked bangs swinging, and I am certain to this very day he can't figure out how I hit his friend at that range. Sometimes there is no explanation for these things, and who would need one anyway? As for me, I'm just content knowing that the Green boys won in the end. And the bad guys lost a little dignity that day.

Things were never the same after that. It would be the last time we sought out Timmy on one of our visits to Spartanburg. After the snowball fight we finished the day in the comfort of Grandma Harris' living room, nursing our wounds, sipping hot chocolate and listening to adult political commentary. Enjoying every minute of it.

(Part 3) Snowballs...

2011-01-22T09:02:00.003-05:00

...began flying, the blur of ice in combination with speed heavy in the air. I saw my little brother collapse under the impact of a bullet thrown by the boy-giant across the yard. Scotty's teeth made a clicking noise as his stocking covered head was forced one way by the impact of the flying snowball, his lips the other way- suspended for a moment where they had once been in perfect alignment with his red face. My tiny comrade was down for the count.

I had three choices at that point. Stand my position and fight it out (impossible as I was running out of "ammo" and far short on defensive positioning); fall back to the safety of grandma's couch (I liked this thought more and more but it would come with a lifelong stigma); or charge the oppositions bunker. Now I'm not a war strategist, but I thought the third option could at least buy me some time for Scott to pull himself together and help a brother out.

In warfare, charging is generally a last resort. It is most likely necessitated by a critical shortage of resources in combination with a lack of a fall-back option. It is the equivalent of football's 4th quarter, final seconds "Hale Mary" where you will either take the field in victory as a gutsy s.o.b., or you leave the stadium in shame- in war, dead. There are songs about heroes who, in desperation, beyond all reason or possibility muster the courage to chance it all. Grabbing handfuls of snow as I went I began to run toward to onslaught. For a moment the ploy worked. Timmy and his goon, stopped to look at each other briefly before throwing snowballs with more fury than before.

I knew the charge had been a mistake from the beginning. For one thing, I'm not very fast. For another, I was the ideal target- stunned and enlarged by a super puffy red coat, waddling toward (not away) from the enemy. Timmy and goon were delighted, licking their chapped lips as I approached.

If you enjoy war movies at all, Platoon was one of the all time best. There is a classic scene where Willem Dafoe, thought dead, emerges from the jungles of Vietnam. His men helplessly watch from the helicopter above as his body is riddled with enemy bullets, shaking and lurching violently (though dramatically in slow motion) with each point of contact. This was me that day. Broken and defeated, but perhaps with one last opportunity for glory and revenge.

To be continued and concluded...

(Part 2) Timmy had a friend...

2011-01-20T22:00:00.002-05:00

...with him that fateful day that we, the Green's, rolled into town. After having kissed Grandma Harris and wishing her a happy new year, my brother Scott and I headed back into the snow, running as fast as we could to see if Timmy wanted to build a snow fort or something. We knocked eagerly on his front door. But instead of the familiar crooked grin and botched bangs, the boy who opened the door looked like a linebacker. He was freakishly big. He had hands like catchers-mitts and a melon sized head sporting a perfect brown crew-cut. It wasn't my friend and I instantly hated him.

"Is Timmy home?", I said, standing on my tiptoes to try and catch a glimpse over his massive left shoulder. In my memory he answered something like, "Who's askin?", though I doubt that ever really happened. Chances are good that he said yes and that Timmy soon came out on the front porch. The big kid was perhaps his cousin, though the details of the relationship have been lost in time.

To make a long story a bit shorter, suffice it to say that Timmy and his giant crony challenged me and my younger brother to a snowball fight. Even in the ignorance I my youth, I knew that Scott and I had several things working against us.

We were unfamiliar with the local terrain
We hardly knew how to make a snowball, much less throw one with any accuracy
My only wing man in this endeavor was 7

"You're on", I said with a cracking voice, feigning confidence. Lines were drawn and 5 minutes were given for each side to create a stockpile of ice grenades and dig in. As I was doing so, I felt something cold and hard hit the back of my puffy coat- a snowball. The big kid had begun the offensive without warning; while we were still under the gentleman's white flag agreement! It was evident that I would be on the field that day with a foe not limited by the boundaries of human decency. For me, everything went into slow motion.

To be continued...

(Part 1) The Final Leftovers...

2011-01-16T18:57:00.003-05:00

...of the Carolina snowfall are slowly disappearing. Puddles have formed in the low spots while the last of the white patches trickle and fade into but a memory. It's the stuff of stories.

The whole event has reminded me of a childhood "snow story", taking me all the way back to about 1978 or so. The upstate of SC had gotten a pretty good snowfall that early January, but despite that Mom and Dad were intent on loading up the burgundy LTD for a trip to Spartanburg to visit the great-grandparents (I had 2 complete sets of greats until I was 8). I was personally very excited, not so much to hang with the old folks that day, but because I had an acquaintance who lived next to Grandma Harris. And who knows what kind of loot he had gotten for Christmas. His name was Timmy.

Timmy was about my age and someone that I occasionally hung out with when visiting Grandma Harris. He was a weird kid with crooked teeth and a bad haircut, but it beat sitting on the living room floor listening to the old folks talk about taxes, arthritis and the downfall of humanity as evidenced by Threes Company. Little did I know as I stepped out of the warmth of Dad's giant car and onto the crunchy white of Grandma's driveway, that on that very day I would make history- as the most insanely accurate snowball thrower that Timmy (or anyone else in Spartanburg, SC) had ever seen. Or ever would again.

To be continued...

Wishing You All...

2011-01-11T13:11:00.000-05:00

...a happy and fulfilled life, at 1:11 PM, 1/11/11. Now ain't that neat? :-)

"Hey, Babe, What Did You Do WithThe Camera?", I Asked.

2011-01-08T20:53:00.000-05:00

"What makes you think I did anything with the camera? I think you had it last", she says.

"No I didn't. Maybe it's at your Mom's house. You know how cluttered it is there", I said.

"If it was at my Mom's house we would not have been able to download the snow pictures. Think back to when you last had it", she says, in a manner which I view as quite condescending.

"Well, I am thinking of where I last had it, which is why I am certain you had it last, smarty pants."

(Pause) "Alan, did you leave it in the outside pocket of the cooler, which is where I last saw you with it? Hmmmm?"

(Longer pause) "I suppose that's possible", I say.

Upon my return, I took this picture. I hate it when she's right...and she's always right.

I struggle...

2011-01-05T21:45:00.000-05:00

...from time to time with low self-esteem. Everyone does I suppose, some more than others. Am I really good enough to be a part of this group? Do I deserve to have someone special in my life? Does God really love me unconditionally? When is the other shoe going to drop? These are all legitimate questions. And they are also questions asked by someone struggling with their own personal value- struggling I suppose with a sense of worth.

Some people have to really work hard at keeping their ego in check. They are by circumstance, by upbringing or just quite naturally- arrogant. Pride is their downfall and many battle hard to remain humble. I recall a time, I was around 15 or 16, when I went to a local family reunion with my parents. The reunion was attended by distant cousins, I guess, and I knew from the beginning of the event that they were not "my kind of people". Some were in straw cowboy hats of all things, big shiny belt buckles and dusty boots. Some men wore overalls, the women had their hair in buns and wore big flowered-print polyester dresses. They were poorly educated and obviously people of humble means.

I remember clearly, at some point, turning to my dad and saying something like, "We're related to these yahoos? Has anybody hauled granny and the rocker down from Uncle Jed's truck, yet?" I will never forget his response. He looked me square in the eye and said, "These are relatives of yours who make an honest days pay with an honest day's work. They are poor but good people. You have no right to look down upon them." Wow. That exchange rocked me- I was ashamed and humbled- and I deserved every bit of it. On the surface, that wake up call from my dad may not seem a very significant exchange, but for whatever reason that single event transformed the way I looked at people then and today.

Yes, Jesus was very clear on the subject. It's the meek (the humble, gentle and kind) that will inherit the kingdom of God. But stop for a moment and think of the far end of that spectrum. Think beyond meekness or humility. There are people, me and you at times, who are paralyzed by fear of failure. Low self-esteem and self-doubt are as big a hindrance in serving God (and others) as is pride or egotism. They are two polar ends of a scale that serve to isolate you and keep you from your full potential as a person- and your full potential as a representative of Christ. Pride is destructive, but a lack of faith or confidence in your own God given abilities will have the same outcome when you are allowed an opportunity to serve. And we all are called to serve.

Meek, humble yes. But frozen by your own fear of failure or perceived lack of unworthiness misses the mark. And perhaps it even misses the mark with a similar outcome as looking down upon others of lesser means or a different upbringing- your relatives or not.

Happy Birthday, George...

2011-01-04T07:40:00.000-05:00

I wanted to give a big shout-out to my pal, George who turned 43 yesterday. This marks the official entry into his mid-forties, though unofficially he has been an old man trapped in a younger body for 20 years.

Also, he and his family are soon to occupy their new home where he will be known as the old guy who occasionally goes on his front porch in his boxers and wife-beater-T, yelling, "You kids get out of my yard".

Happy B-Day wishes, Dook.

Quote from my oldest daughter, today...

2011-01-01T22:21:00.000-05:00

Dad, 2010 seems like only yesterday. (smile)

I'm Dreaming, Of A White Christmas

2010-12-28T18:28:00.000-05:00

And a white Christmas is just what we got in Florence, SC, though technically fully fallen and enjoyed the day after. Here, Jenna and Meredith have put the finishing touches on a snowman, all with the approval of Daisy, looking on.

Perhaps My Favorite Christmas, around 1982

2010-12-25T10:09:00.000-05:00

And so my love of the synthesizer began. I played this with my pal George until it fell apart and then I spent every penny I had saved for a Korg keyboard. I still occasionally play on a Korg when not at my baby grand. However, I now much prefer the feel and sound of actual hammered strings to the digitally sampled sounds of... well, hammered strings.

I Love Everything...

2010-12-24T08:51:00.000-05:00

...about Christmas. Part of the reason is that everything about the season brings back fantastic memories for me. Memories of visiting my great-grandparents in Spartanburg, SC. I had two complete sets of great-grandparents until I was 10 years old. Memories of favorite Christmas meals and beautiful Christmas music. (Do you hear what I hear?) The smell of baking cookies and hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. Riding around in the family LTD looking at manger scenes and light displays in front yards, some of them pretty remarkable. Christmas movies with the family. The thrill of going to bed a tad early on Christmas Eve, awaiting a visit by the jolly fat man.

Today and tomorrow I continue to build memories with my own children. I-Carly is having a very special "seasons greetings" episode on the upstairs TV. The kids will need to help us clean the house and straighten up for family visits tonight. They can also help me finish picking up a few last minute items for their Mom and the dog needs her teeth brushed (her breath could knock you over). While I'm at it I'll fuss at them for not cleaning their rooms. Merry Christmas, Bedford Falls!

Could it be that the good memories override the cruddy ones- the downside of Christmases-past forgotten or repressed. For my kids sake, I hope so. Even as I sit here trying to write them down, good Christmas memories seem to flow pretty easily while the bad ones seem a bit more distant. And with time, maybe the bad ones are gone altogether; who knows. Maybe that's a Christmas gift in and of itself.

Happy Birthday Leah!

2010-12-12T11:27:00.000-05:00

I'm proud of my baby sister and wanted to celebrate her birthday (December 12, 1974) with a handful of memories in the form of grainy family snapshots.

Leah with my mom, Janelle, after her adoption from Vietnam. She was on one of the last US planes out of that war-torn country, shortly before the April 1975 fall of Saigon- now Ho Chi Minh City. She was 4 months old when she joined our family in SC. My parents worked with an agency called Friends of Children of Vietnam. Read more of "operation babylift" here.

My brother Scott and I loved our baby sister, though once I remember losing her 20 feet up in a pine tree. About the time this picture was taken, Scott and I tied an old baby-swing to the top of a sapling, rode it down to the ground and decided to put Leah in it. Apparently, we didn't understand that her weight was not enough to bring her back down to earth as it had us. We eventually shimmied up the tree, brought her back down to safety, our parents none-the-wiser.

I don't recall Leah being an expert at clogging, but I do really love this picture. Hey Mary Anne, Gilligan would love another coconut cream pie!

Leah, Colt, Gram and an overly enthusiastic Big Daddy, Thanksgiving 2010.

A Friend Of Mine...

2010-11-30T20:44:00.001-05:00

...has a habit of throwing up when in the midst of extreme exercise. I've witnessed this several times over a period of years. I don't think that it's psychological at all but rather physiological. His body is simply rejecting what is an uncommon and unnatural occurrence- exertion. It's saying, "Hey, stop this nonsense and let's get back to basics here and walk- not RUN! Oh, so you won't stop. Well let me show you what I can do to those nice new running shoes..."

I find that I too have a visceral response to uncommon occurrences in my life. Change for me is hard. While small, incremental changes in life are commonplace, the bigger, wholesale changes that rock our foundation are rather uncommon. Thank God. Frankly, those changes often make me feel sick. Why? Because the outcome is unknown. Monte Hall smugly asks, "What's behind curtain #3"? Well, we won't know until the backstage flunky with the cigar pulls the rope and reveals either a lavish gift or a booby-prize. (tee hee- I said booby)

Much like my good friend's reaction to high impact exercise and despite the feeling it brings, change in life is often good for us in the long run. Uncharted and scary, yes, but often the very best medicine for a complacent life. A life very content to follow its own mediocre and common plan, thank-you-very-much. It's been said that change is like a wave- ride it or find yourself below it. Well, I don't know about that, but if you are in the midst of it- may I suggest you try wearing some old shoes for a while. You'll get through and be stronger for it.

The Vining Family, Thanksgiving 2010

2010-11-25T21:00:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving...

2010-11-25T11:13:00.002-05:00

...has to be one of my favorite holidays. It's a great time of year to really give some thought for what you are most thankful. For example, consider this: most of the people living in this world do not have clean drinking water, much less a bountiful harvest horn of plenty on the kitchen table, all picked up yesterday in the SUV from the local Piggly Wiggly.

Anyway, here's a brief summary of what's going to happen at my Mom and Dad's house today:

Dad will get home late from cooking the turkey with his friends at the office (a yearly tradition). He will have a hint of Bud Light on his breath.
We will have every intention of having the food laid out for consumption by the family by 1:00PM.
Close to 2:00PM the food will be on the table.
All expectations are set that a meaningful blessing will be made, amen and pass the gravy.
Mom will request that before the blessing, we go around the room and everyone will say what they are thankful for this year.
By the time it makes it half way around the brother, sister, cousins, aunts and uncles, my grandfather will be passed out from low blood sugar. He will have been cranky for the last 2 hours, an early sign of his condition.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours! Is it nap-time yet?

Josh Bob...

2010-11-23T07:24:00.000-05:00

...is a happy, carefree potbellied pig who has finally found a home. He wandered into my Uncle's yard some months back and wouldn't leave. He was skinny and, by the looks of him, had been homeless for quite some time before my cousin, Mike, found him in the backyard.
"When I first saw him I didn't know whether to welcome him as a new family member or just eat him for breakfast", said Mike. "I guess I made the right decision, but some days he sure looks delicious".

Josh Bob, named by Mike's 5 year old niece, is a good pig and enjoys belly rubs, acorns and (apparently) long walks.

That's What We Do...

2010-11-11T14:47:00.001-05:00

... We're Americans. I invite you to spend 5 minutes watching this video honoring our national heroes- American Soldiers. Happy Veterans Day.

http://www.nragive.com/ringoffreedom/index.html

Lengendary...

2010-11-05T09:58:00.000-04:00

... Carolina sports announcer, Bob Fulton, passed away the other day. He was 89 years old. Leslie called me to share the news and it saddened my day. He was not only a familiar voice dating back to my childhood, but an acquaintance who touched my life.

Mr. Fulton was a member of our church and regularly attended services and special events. A couple of months ago I sat down in the pew next to him and asked for a favor. I wanted to record his voice (The voice of the Carolina Gamecocks) giving the morning wake-up call to the troops in Afghanistan serving with my friend Chris Neeley. Mr. Fulton eagerly agreed to do it, wanting to give back in some way to those troops fighting overseas. He also suggested supplying some of his books, signed by himself of course, as a gift to Chris. However, he asked that I wait a few weeks until he first settled in his new assisted living home in Lexington. I asked if I could pay him for the books and he said, "Never. I don't sell books anymore. This is a gift for your friend."

Well, obviously the opportunity for recording "The Voice" has been lost. But Mr. Fulton left me with a gift that was much greater than a recording and a few signed books. Mr. Fulton was eager to serve and enthusiastic about giving. In that sense, he was the rarest of celebrities; willing to give honor rather than receive it. South Carolina will miss him.

Now, time for the "Create An Album" Game!

2010-10-21T22:43:00.000-04:00

OK, here's the challenge. Name 1 or 2 songs in each of the below categories. Preferably (and for extra points), make them songs which are unfamiliar to most people. In other words, not heard on the radio but darn well worth the $1.29 to download:

"Hauntingly beautiful"-
Alan's entry- Spell by Marie Digby; December by Norah Jones

"Great melody line"-
Alan's entry- Red Light by Jonny Lang

"Tells a memorable story"-
Alan's entry- I'm Not That Girl by Idena Menzel- from the Wicked soundtrack

"Makes you want to dance"-
Alan's entry- Catchafire (Whoopsi-Daisy) by tobyMac

What are your personal, obscure favorites?

My Family...

2010-10-17T22:19:00.000-04:00

...is my pride and joy. Perhaps you can get a glimpse of why in the photo taken today.

Things Have Been A Bit Quiet...

2010-10-10T09:05:00.000-04:00

...on the Greenbeans Blog for a while, I realize. The truth is, I've been a bit distracted and even a little uninspired as of late. I have been dealing with the harsh reality of an economy gone bad- corporate downsizing. Let me say up front, I did not lose my job in this process. It is pretty much business as usual for me. However, the personal turmoil involved in the "potential" to lose your job can be pretty tough.

I've known of the coming headcount reductions for several months now. While I appreciate the transparancy on the matter, knowing what's coming is hard. A friend of mine used the analogy, "If I'm gettting a heart-bypass, I don't necessarily want a play by play from the surgeon while I'm on the table. Wake me up afterward and let me know what happened." Well, I don't think that's the answer either, but the fact remains that changes in corporate structure are never pretty. Ultimately, I can only hope that the end justifies the means and that sustainability and renewed growth is achieved.

There is one thing that I have learned through this long and difficult process. If you are looking for job security in any company, you are playing a fools game. You hold those keys, not corporate

America. Your best bet for job security is not found in any company, but by making yourself highly employable. And that is not totally achieved by a diploma or an impressive resume. Mostly that lies in the day to day details of how well you do your current job and how far you press to create value. Oh sure, in tough economic times it may not gaurantee the position you are currently in, but it sure opens doors to future opportunities. And one fact remains- that no matter what happens, there's always something bigger and better waiting for you if you are prepared to earnestly and prayfully seek it out.

There Are Things...

2010-09-17T09:01:00.001-04:00

...that I will never fully understand- The theory of relativity; free-choice versus predestination; how wig kiosks in the mall make it.
One thing I don't fully understand, but know to be true, is that we have some choice in how our day will go. Oh, not that we can choose what will happen to us, but that we can mentally prepare ourselves for meeting the day's challenges with an air of optimism. We can wake in the morning and say, "Lord, I don't know what today holds for me, but I do know that you are beside me and will guide my thoughts and actions." Notice that I say "guide" my thoughts and actions and not "steer" them. For in the end, He is my captain, offering the sound advice of a proven, surefooted navigator. I, however, quite often ignore the iceberg that was pointed out some miles back.
Regardless of what today holds for me and my family, I will at least try to face it with the realization that my reaction to a situation will make it better- or worse. Nothing in between. And knowing that I am not facing this day alone makes all the difference.

Now It's Time For...

2010-09-13T18:11:00.000-04:00

...which picture is older? Extra points for naming the 3 people who are in both pics. Extra, extra points for naming the Boy George look alike in the bottom photo.

For Those Of You...

2010-09-06T09:05:00.000-04:00

...who have ever felt that life was on hold or that your dreams have been put on the shelf, I have some good news: God may be doing His best work in your life during your downtime. Why do I say that? Well for one I've felt it in my own life and seen what comes of the waiting. I will refrain for a moment from getting "preachy" and offer an everyday, practical example from my own experience.

I have enjoyed a long career with my company- almost 17 years. A few years back I decided to try something different within the organization, going from sales management into a marketing position. I moved my family to beautiful town near the corporate headquarters, set up my office, bought a nice house and for 3 years thoroughly hated it. "Oh, you made a mistake", you might say. Hardly. God systematically broke down a hardened, ego-inflated heart over those 3 years. He forced me to re-evaluate my life and re-engage with my family. For me, He drew a clear line in the sand between my livelihood and my life.

The bible is full of stories of great men and women who, despite their own ideas of what they should be doing with their lives, had to wait upon the Lord. Take the apostle Paul for example. Many people think that he was converted on a Damascus road and instantly began his world-changing ministry. The reality is that after his first brush with ministering to the Jews he barely escaped with his life. This led to 3 years of seclusion and study in Arabia and eventually 5-6 years back in his hometown of Tarsus. Can you imagine that? Paul was raised and trained in Pharisaic law, had been converted to Christianity in one of the most dynamic ways possible and now he was back in his hometown making tents. Now that's a dream put on a shelf! It's also God working on a very hard case, moving a man from self-centered to servant. As you know, the story has a happy ending. Barnabas, a lesser know apostle, seeks Paul out, asking for help to preach to the growing church in Antioch. And so begins the next 20 years of Paul's worldwide ministry.

Are you in your "Tarsus" right now? Waiting for something... anything? You're in good company if you are. It may be that your train has been derailed because of a financial misjudgement; a failed marriage; a lost job; a tragic accident or chronic disease. Maybe it's due to circumstances for which you have no control. Whatever the case, there is something great in store for you- God precedes His best work in our waiting.

As F. B Meyer wrote almost a century ago, "As you go down the long corridor you may find that He has preceded you and locked many doors which you would fain have entered; but be sure that beyond these there is one which He has left unlocked. Open it and enter, and you will find yourself face to face with a bend of the river of opportunity, broader and deeper than anything you dared to imagine in your sunniest dreams. Launch forth on it; it conducts to the open sea."

I Don't Know About You...

2010-09-02T20:05:00.004-04:00

...but I've always enjoyed the political commentary of George Will. Straightforward, thought provoking commentary about politics and history seems to be his forte. While I don't agree with all of his views on things, I'm always left with the conclusion that they are well thought-out and believable, undoubtedly more so than my own.

Yesterday I sat next to George Will on a plane from Washington DC to Columbia, SC. He's shorter than I thought, but with a head of hair I can only hope for at his age. Sort of a less wrinkled Lou Holtz, minus the bubbly personality. Well, that's not exactly correct because he giggled several times while reading a biography of the late Daniel Patrick Moynihan, underlining the best parts with a blue pen.

"I see you're reading about the late Senator Moynihan, Mr. Will. Did you know him well?"

"Yes. He was a very dear friend", he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss", I said.

After a pause, "Why are you heading to SC?"

"I'm presenting to a group of local veterans tomorrow about the Battle of the Bulge", Mr. Will said, never looking up from his book- that dirty blond hair being blown gently by the airplane's overhead air spout.

Giggle, followed by an underline with the blue pen.

For those who don't know, I only appear idiotic. It's a mere surface trait to a brilliant mind. I actually have some scope of knowledge regarding American history and knew that the "Battle of the Bulge" was not an Oxygen channel original reality show about weight loss. I decided to go for the throat and impress this tiny but wicked-smart politico.

"So, er, who's your favorite historian on the subject. hmmmm?", I said.

Giggle, sigh, blue pen underline.

Never looking up from between the pages of his dear friends life he said, "The memoirs of Truman".

Oh, yes of course, the memoirs of Truman! Darn, I should of thought of that. After that brief exchange I left the poor man alone, lost in his memories of the distinguished gentleman from New York.

Sniffle, sigh, underline...

So begins...

2010-08-18T14:37:00.000-04:00

...a new series of entries in Greenbeans, featuring some of my favorite pictures of dear friends. Today I salute George and Jennifer. Thanks for your friendship! The Greenbeans.

Recently...

2010-08-16T10:04:00.000-04:00

...Leslie and I had a fireplace and patio installed in our backyard. While the project took two months, the company that did the work did a great job and took pride in their work. While there are some final touches that need to be made, such as landscaping, I thought it was interesting to watch the work being done. Here, you will see much of the work being completed from the vantage point of my upstairs office.

What Has Chris Lost in Afghanistan?

2010-08-14T22:51:00.000-04:00

About 50 pounds and counting, that's what! Come home soon my man and we'll do what we can to fatten you up again. We miss you!

A Kids Story...

2010-08-14T09:39:00.001-04:00

...surfaces in my mind from time to time. When Meredith was 3 or 4 we were visiting Leslie's mom out of town. Now if you know my mother-in-law you will also know that she taught her daughters to cook. And to cook well! I think my muffin top hanging over my shorts proves that. When I take my shirt off it looks as if a can of biscuits exploded.

Anyway, during a visit with the ma-in-law, Leslie and her sister Jane made a beautiful, fluffy, snow-white coconut cake. This thing was art, and tasted better than it looked. Flaky, shaved coconut heavily sprinkled on light and fluffy icing- covering a perfectly moist triple layer yellow-cake. Mary Ann on Gilligan's Island would hang her head in shame if she'd seen this. While passing slices of heaven around the table, Meredith looked on with a discerning eye, a look on her face as if we were trying to sell her Amway.

"Try it Meredith, you'll love it," we urged. She hesitantly took the cake and after studying it decided to try a small bite. Now I suppose that in the thrill of the moment, as that cake hit her mouth, she gasped in delighted surprise or something. Because she promptly began to choke on the coconut cake. Her face turned beet-red and it took several moments of wild confusion to get her calm and stop the coughing and gagging.

When she had finally pulled it all together, she looked around the room and exclaimed, "I'm allergic to coconut!" To this day she has never been able to shake her childhood "allergy" and will refuse most things with coconut.

What's an "allergy" from your childhood?

This SC Heat...

2010-08-12T18:55:00.001-04:00

...as tough as it is, is so easily forgotten. Oh, you don't think so? Well I moved away for a short 6 years and had completely forgotten how miserable it can be in July and August. But just as it was slowly forgotten, it very quickly is remembered. I just don't hold up very well in the sun any longer.

Within the past couple of years Columbia has adopted a rather telling slogan. "Famously Hot" is a fitting phrase for a city in a bowl which benefits from neither an ocean breeze or an elevated climate. I thought it might be fun to come up with a few more slogans for our capital city. How about:

Columbia- Almost to Charleston
Columbia- Hotter than a roofers armpit
Columbia- We knew global warming before it was cool
Columbia- Let's go to Arizona for some relief
Columbia- It won't be iced tea for long

What's your slogan?

Thanks...

2010-08-08T21:14:00.000-04:00

...for all of the prayers and support this week. My mother went home (in the literal sense, not figuratively!) from the hospital late in the week. She experienced her best day yet on Saturday I am certain because of your prayers and support. She has some weeks to go in her healing process but we are so grateful for how well she is doing and for all the love shown from family and friends.

I've Got A Fever...

2010-08-06T12:45:00.000-04:00

...For more cowbell!
What was your favorite SNL skit?

My Mother...

2010-08-04T07:29:00.000-04:00

...has been through more in her life than most. She has fought a tough battle with multiple sclerosis for over 30 years and raised 3 kids throughout the process. She is totally confined to her wheelchair most of the day. She can't feed herself, wash herself or pick her napkin up off the floor. She stopped jogging in the 70s and driving in the 80s. In many respects she has been totally stripped of her freedom. There are few choices for those who totally rely on others.

Thanks for all of your prayers and support over the past couple of days. As many of you already know, Mom fell from her wheelchair earlier this week resulting in two broken legs. Both femur (the largest bone in your leg) were broken requiring surgery Tuesday morning. While in pain, all signs are good and her attitude remains unfazed- faithful and positive. The healing process begins now and we are careful to watch for signs of infection, blood clots or pneumonia.

I'm left with many questions about why some people deal with lifelong hardships while others skate right through. Despite any questions I may have, one fact remains: My mother is a fighter of the best kind. A soldier who has never wavered from her faith in God and has always acted in love towards others. As for me, I remain rolling on my skates for now, a bit stronger because of the endurance of a hero- my Mom!

Yesterday...

2010-08-03T08:33:00.000-04:00

...Leslie, from the window of her car, offered a homeless man a pack of crackers . Without getting up from behind his cardboard sign he yelled, "I'm allergic to peanut butter". So goes life.

I've Been Having a Vacation...

2010-07-21T09:38:00.000-04:00

...of sorts. While it's a vacation from the daily grind of my paying job, it is by no means a lazy, cool drink in hand, day at the beach. Instead, I've had my yard tools and paint brushes in my delicate hands, sweat pouring from my generally dry brow. The fact is, I really need to get back to the paying job for a little break.

It starkly reminds me of the lack of manual labor I do in my life. Now, over 40, I usually sit in a car or behind a desk and push papers during my workday. I complain about my anticipated carpel tunnel syndrome and my very real paper cuts. I'm angered at a lack of follow through by employees on my "action required" items as well as the number of "action required" items sent to me by the boss. I raise my fist in white knuckle frustration at the length of a conference call and balk about how things should be done differently!

Elsewhere, a good friend struggles to make ends meet by working multiple jobs. Another friend is a soldier celebrating his wife's birthday with a blog entry. And another friend has recently lost her healthy mother to a sudden and catastrophic illness.

Be careful though, I'm not making comparisons. Comparisons in that way (a life to a life) are never apples to apples type scenarios. I am, however, helping to establish a baseline for myself. A baseline of what is good and what is hard in my life. If you will, even what is acceptable. Someone once said, "Don't sweat the small stuff... and it's all small stuff". Well, for the most part that is true. After all, right now I have a rather average life when it comes to hardships. My friends mentioned in the paragraph above are travelling some rocky roads right now, but they are not roads which have not been walked a thousand times by others and at select points in a life, by everyone. Oh they are not the exact situations mentioned, but situations which elicit the same emotional states that they are in right now.

So back to the opening point, which is, much of my frustration in life is... "small stuff". Frustrations which create an emotional storm not because of their size, but because of my lack of perspective on what is important. Much like the poor stamina I have with my yard work this "vacation", my mind has become forgetful of the truly difficult situations in life. In that way, perhaps the challenges in life are workouts for better emotional endurance and to make us stronger, and arguably better, people. I realize that's easy perspective when you are not in the storm. However, everyone knows that in the end a difficult situation always turns into a changed outlook. The sky is never brighter than after the pelting rain and damaging winds have passed. The clean up, however, is another matter.

Whatever the case, I have to go now. There's a paint brush, a shovel and a plunger that awaits my expertise. And afterward, a good hand washing, a cold iced tea and a very special episode of Judge Judy. I'm so thankful for that 2 hour conference call that awaits me this coming Monday!

Let's Squish Our Fruits Together...

2010-07-15T17:32:00.000-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WnY59mDJ1gg

You're A Member of the Rebel Alliance...

2010-07-15T12:59:00.000-04:00

...and a traitor! Take her away. And let's get off at Bowling Green station to get a quick photo in front of the Statue of Liberty.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5gCeWEGiQI&feature=popular

The Funny Thing About Courage...

2010-07-02T09:01:00.000-04:00

...is that it can only be tested in the face of your fear. Oh sure, it's easy to say your courageous while sailing the smooth waters of life. It is quite another animal however when you're in the midst of facing a murderous giant, your leather sling shot in one hand and a smooth river stone in the other. The story of David and Goliath was always a childhood favorite of mine. Even as an adult there remains a certain poignancy about this story. To me it tells of human nature as much as it does faith and courage.

Remember how the story opens? Saul, The king Israel has a problem. The Philistine army has gathered for war against Israel. The two armies face each other, camped for battle on opposite sides of a steep valley. Goliath, a Philistine giant measuring over nine feet tall and wearing full armor comes out each day for forty days, mocking and challenging the Israelites to fight. Only tiny David and his slingshot eventually stepped up to the challenge.

To King Saul's credit, he did try to equip David some ill-fitting armor and gear. However, David decides to use what he knew best- a slingshot and some stones. In the end, God took David and used him just as he was- a kid with a keen eye and makeshift weapon.

Do you feel ill-equipped to take on life today? Perhaps it's not that you need to be any different than who you are. Maybe what you really need is a willingness just to step out on faith and trust in a God who's bigger than your giant. Face your fear as you are, leaning on him, and watch your courage emerge. The reality is that your giant, whatever or whoever that may be, is not as big as you think. And you are bigger than you know.

Last weekend...

2010-06-26T09:23:00.000-04:00

...some friends of ours took us out on Lake Murray for a boat ride. Eric and "Dr. Mac" were gracious enough to allow us non-boaters a chance to play in the open water. In talking with Eric, I am certain that I am doing what's right for me and my family by not owning a boat, but I must admit that the idea is tempting. It's not that I don't really enjoy boating, it's just that I know little of it (never grew up doing it) and my time is so limited as it is I wonder how I could dedicate to another hobby right now. I don't know, the argument that it's great family time and memories is an appealing one. My brother-in-law and sister-in-law love it. But then again, that's their biggest hobby and what they love to do as a family. Eric and Kris are members of a boat-club, which seems to make a bit more sense for someone like me. Perhaps, however, the best solution is just to have family and friends with boats who are gracious enough to bring us along every now and then.

Pictured above from left to right are Bennet, Payton and Jenna (my 11 year old) having a perfectly wonderful time.

Netflix...

2010-06-21T18:56:00.000-04:00

...revolutionized movie rental for me a few years back. Until then, I routinely rented movies and just as routinely paid late return fees. It struck me then as now that late fees played on my greatest vulnerability as I suffer from CRS syndrome. CRS stands for "Can't Remember Stuff" or something like that. In any case, late fees in my home were the normal cost of doing business.

However, just like that, Netflix comes along and saves me. To be frank, now my problem is not remembering to return the movies but rather remembering that I even have them. They show up in the mail and despite my best of intentions to watch a movie with family and friends, life gets in the way. And that's OK with Netflix. They are just fine with me hanging on to "Weekend at Bernies" for another 8 months until I get around to watching it. Just as long as I pay my monthly fee.

The other day, George introduced me to a new Netflix advantage. You can now watch movies instantly (select titles) on your Wii. It's really easy to sign up for and set up and I can watch a ton of movies and still keep Bernie safely by my side. Genius.

Popular fiction...

2010-06-16T22:08:00.000-04:00

...has always portrayed the first few moments following death as a journey into the light. After all, who can forget Patrick Swayze in Ghost, waiting a moment too long and missing his opportunity to step into the heavenly tractor beam presumably to be God's portal. Or how about the long popular portrayal of your own guardian angel guiding you to the pearly gates? The ancient Greeks of course had Charon, the dead's boatman guide on the River Styx.

The reality is, whether it's charming to talk about or not, you have an important decision to make. Is death simply a tragic, anticlimactic ending or the beginning of the ultimate adventure in your existence? There is nothing in between.

Jesus often used wedding imagery when describing the afterlife. There's something appealing to me about the image of Jesus as the bridegroom, sweeping me away after I have fully closed my eyes on this earth. There seems to be much less of a chance of me missing the portal if it is God's Son seeking me out. In fact, read John 14: 1-3 which says, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms...I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you with me that you may also be where I am."

So what happened to the allusive heavenly light I'm supposed to find? Or how about the final guidance of my lifelong enslaved guardian angel? Could it be that in those final moments as I leave this earth, just as my curiosity to look back begins to take hold, my saviour will put his hands squarely on my shoulders and say, "Well done, Alan. You sought me and I revealed myself to you. You followed me and introduced me to your friends. You raised your family in my teachings."

And as that so familiar man leads me away, his arm around my shoulders he says, "Now allow me to introduce you to your ultimate adventure and your eternal purpose."

"Will you tell me how to get there, Jesus?"

"Tell you, no. I'll take you there myself. You're gonna love this..."

Please provide a caption for this 1970s Levi's ad...

2010-06-12T09:02:00.001-04:00

I find myself...

2010-06-09T18:53:00.000-04:00

...growing more and more depressed over the deep water oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico. Click here for a view of the live feed from the ocean's bottom, compliments of PBS. I suppose that my anxiety centers around two things: 1) The marine life affected by this leak and 2) the monstrous implecations for the people and industry along the Gulf coast.

Now anyone who really knows me understands that I love seafood. As far as Shrimp is concerned, I'm like Bubba Gump with a crustacean vendetta. I've eaten those little beady-eyed morsels steamed, deep-fried, boiled, broiled, grilled and raw. Jumbo, medium or popcorn. In a stew, on a bun, in grits, or just with plain with lemon and butter. But they are never better than when served Beaufort style with sausage, corn and potatoes. MMmmm.

So I suppose there is a #3 to my list above. I am saddened because there is a chance that my shrimp intake will diminish in the coming months and that really makes me a bit more than depressed. Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm piping mad because this doesn't just affect schooling fish, migrating birds or some Alabama coast tourist trap- by golly this affects me and my high cholesterol shellfish diet.

Darn you, BP! I'll never forget this... that is until it's time to fill up the SUV one more time. Well, suppose I can eat frozen shrimp for a few months.

Going To The Movies...

2010-06-05T15:09:00.000-04:00

...are some of my best memories. Not because of the movies themselves, as most are inconsequential, but rather for the excitement of the movie experience with family and friends. How could I forget my first movie experience with Mom? It was a summer movie showing of Sinbad the Sailor, with some really bad but frightening claymation. Or my first movie experience with Dad, a drive-in showing of Walking Tall. I still love Buford Pusser and that stick, but what was Dad thinking?
In moments, I'm taking Jenna to see Shrek 4. Even now I'm excited. Not for the movie, but for the experience and the hope that one day she might fondly remember a day at the movies with Dad. Minus the stick, anger and violence. But who knows, I haven't seen the movie yet.

What was your earliest movie experience?

Watership Down...

2010-06-03T22:16:00.000-04:00

...by Richard Adams remains one of my favorite novels from my teenage years. Although on the surface it is only a story of the adventures of rabbits, it is far more about human nature as demonstrated through various subcultures in the animal world of Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig and friends. The story is as compelling and interesting to me today as it was some 27 years ago. Here's an excerpt that stuck with me tonight:

(Regarding the rabbits visit to a strange land)-

"...When Marco Polo came at last to Cathay, seven hundred years ago, did he not feel- and did his heart not falter as he realized- that this great and splendid capital of an empire had had its being all the years of his life and far longer, and that he had been ignorant of it? That it was in need of nothing from him, from Venice, from Europe? That it was full of wonders beyond his understanding? That his arrival was a matter of no importance whatever? We know that he felt these things, and so has many a traveler in foreign parts who did not know what he was going to find. There is nothing that cuts you down to size like coming to some strange and marvelous place where no one even stops to notice that you stare about you."

The Lonely Toe...

2010-06-01T21:40:00.000-04:00

...finally has a friend. You may recall that I blogged about my friend George's broken, lonely toe some months back. Well, over the weekend I managed to mangle the least appreciated appendage the male body. That is to say, the 4th toe, right next to the famous "pinky toe". Now, I've never had beautiful feet like my wife, but I have prided myself on straight, rather normal sized toes. Hey, celebrate the small things I always say. However, my right foot now has a toe which looks as if it is pointing out the north star to its less than interested siblings.

Here's how it happened: I took Leslie and the kids with me on a business trip to the Isle of Palms. We had a fabulous long weekend at Wild Dunes. I was able to work a convention by day and we played on the beach in the late afternoons. All had gone well, up until Monday morning the day we were to leave, when we decided to get in one last ocean swim before heading home. It was a bit rough out that morning and I came darned near losing my shorts to the sea on a couple of occasions. In fact, I'm pretty sure I scared away a family of Canadian tourists. It was during this time frame that the mother of all waves hit me from behind, sending me tail over teacups into the kids.

Fortunately, the girls made it out of the situation unscathed, but somehow my right foot jammed into the surf bending my 4th toe all the way back to the top of my foot (or so it felt). All I know is that when I came up from the white, foamy water I almost passed out from the pain. Upon brief examination I noticed that the toe was completely standing at a 90 degree angle from his 4 friends. I was sick.

It was not easy trying to make it from the water to where we had set up camp, some 30 yards away. By the time I reached Leslie I had to lay down in the sand to keep from passing out. I rested for a few minutes while Leslie and the kids packed up and then we headed for the hotel, another 200 yards away. Several times I just had to lay down in the sand to keep from fainting. (Yes I realize I sound like the ultimate pansy, but it was as seen by x-ray the next day, completely broken)

Now, here's what other people on the beach saw from their lounge chairs: A middle-aged, out of shape, grossly pale father of two emerges from the sea, screaming like a school girl (probably scared he saw a jelly fish, or something). He's obvious drunk because he staggers up the beach, collapsing several times and just lays there for a while. His pants are falling down as he finally makes his way back to where his wife is sitting on a towel reading a book. He screams something about leaving and then lays down for a short nap while his wife and kids pack up all the stuff. He eventually gets up and stumbles back to the hotel, not carrying a thing, lays back down a couple more times with his face in the sand and then eventually stumbles out of sight.

"Did you see that guy, Margaret?"

"Sure did, Stanley. Reminds me of my Uncle Roddy on a bender, and it's not even 10 AM. Darn shame, I'd say".

"Yeah, he did have a nice left foot though".

Insignificance...

2010-05-24T20:11:00.000-04:00

...is one of the greatest fears that we humans deal with. Ask any 40 year old man who drives a sports car. Or any woman mad at being left out of the supper club. Or any teenager who thinks of themselves as utterly forgettable. We place our value in things, acceptance and adoration and not in what ultimately counts.

It's not that we are truly insignificant, but it's that we often feel small or, worse, overlooked completely. Isn't it wonderful that we have a Father in heaven who says that we are anything but forgettable. He knows the very number of hairs on your head. For those who may be follicularly challenged and less than impressed, he goes a step farther stating that the number of thoughts he has for you numbers the sands of the ocean. You are, after all, his ultimate masterpiece.

What? You don't feel like a masterpiece? True, like anyone, you are not perfect and live in a broken world. But insignificant? No, you are a creation worthy of the constant thoughts of a Creator. Amazing.

In fact, I'm thinking about calling each one of you, dear friends, and letting you know that you are on my mind. But, alas, I have misplaced your numbers. And most of your names.

Daisy Is Very Different...

2010-05-16T13:15:00.000-04:00

...than our previous love hound, Flossie. For one thing, she ain't the brightest bulb in the box. But for what she lacks in intelligence, she makes up for in love, laughs and a heavy dose of cutiepieness.

For instance, yesterday I spent quite a bit of time cleaning her up, nice and tidy, spic and span. It's a bit tricky because she does pretty well until it's time to rinse. Then she decides she's had enough, thank you very much, so you'd better keep your grip her collar (tail works too) or she's gone, suds and all. She might be 50 pounds of SC ditch-dog, but she can run like a scalded cat when inspired.

Anyway, I've been very proud of my grooming efforts since yesterday afternoon. Today, however, I put a portable sprinkler in the backyard to drench a particularly dry part of the lawn. Apparently, the grass wasn't all that was thirsty because Daisy, as evidence, loves a bath- at least when I'm not there. And the best way to dry off after you've soaked yourself in the strange outdoor shower your master put out for you? Why roll in the grass and mud, of course.

I would kill her, but it is pretty hot out there. And I've never been able to resist an outdoor shower either.

Chow Fung...

2010-05-08T08:02:00.001-04:00

...meekly walked onstage, her hands folded and eyes staring straight ahead. The announcer from the stage then began to read the laundry list of accolades earned that year, just a handful of her 7th grade accomplishments. Excellence in mathematics; Excellence in Language Arts; Excellence in Music, Duke TIP Grand Finalist; etc. etc. etc. The young Asian girl stood silent all the while, a bit embarrassed in front of the large audience, their wide-eyed faces looking on in astonishment at the length of time it took to read all of her awards earned.

My daughter, Meredith had gone sometime before young Ms. Fung, earning Excellence in Language Arts and Drama (this I know well). But I couldn't help but wonder what it must have been like to be the child collecting their awards, just AFTER Chow Fung. The poor child that did, a young lady earning a perfect attendance award, must have felt a bit... cheated. After all, this was her moment- a culmination of her investment meeting a bit of hard-earned recognition! Was is too much to ask for a little limelight? However, in the wake of Chow Fung her award fell on deaf ears, silenced by the tall shadow of an obvious genius. This poor girl, a victim only of the order of presentation had been, if you will, "Chow Funged". Her tiny candle extinguished by the backdraft of comparison.

I can't tell you how many times in life that has happened to me. I explained to my girls afterward that whatever the situation, as long as you have done your best- your very best- then you can be proud of your accomplishments. Comparisons in life are inevitable, however you should always celebrate your own accomplishments no matter how they look next to someone elses. The reality is, even Ms. Fung may not have accomplished all that she wanted in 7th grade. If that is the case, then too bad. Perhaps even the presentation of all those awards felt a bit empty to her. It's really a matter of what your goals are and what you personally achieve. The real secret, I suppose, is to make sure your goals are lofty enough to make you stretch for them. If you do, then that is enough.

Later that night, in celebration I took the family out for Mexican food, still in awe of my little red-head, Meredith. She delights me and makes me proud.

Have you ever felt cheated by a comparison? Who was your Chow Fung?

One Of The Things I've Noticed...

2010-04-20T19:33:00.000-04:00

...about my 11 year old daughter, is that she is always singing. Her favorite songs, however, are not even on the current top 40. Here's a list of her top songs:

Jenny (867-5309)
We Are the Champions
Play That Funky Music White Boy
Lonely Boy
Sailing Away
Jessie's Girl

You may have noticed from the list that one generation has heavily influenced the other. But wait, it works the other way around too. For I currently have my own list of favorites, some of which I am not proud to admit:

Shake It- by Metro Station
4 Minutes- Madonna (OK, technically she's from my era, but the song is not)
Poker Face- Lady Gaga
Hey Soul Sister- Train
I Gotta Feeling- Black Eyed Peas (Fergie is hot, I'm sorry)
Fireflies- Owl City
When I Grow Up- Pussycat Dolls

What is one of your favorite songs from "back in the day" and one from today?

Saluda, NC...

2010-04-09T20:34:00.000-04:00

...is a beautiful little mountain town, complete with antique shops and dazzling waterfalls. I am grateful for an opportunity to visit the family cabin of William and Martha Fanning, our hosts for 4 days in western NC. The mountain air and flowing streams really did our family wonders in terms of relaxation. However, I began to notice some strange changes to my girls. Hmmmm, probably just hormones.

What a Beautiful Evening...

2010-04-01T21:45:00.000-04:00

...it was tonight as I watched the sun go down in a 70 degree paradise. This is my favorite time of year in SC. Just having thrown the Frisbee with the dog, I settled into the hammock and viewed the blackening silhouette of the trees against the fading blue of the sky, specks of starlight beginning to appear. As the frogs squeaked and croaked in the distance, the fireflies began to come out of the tops of the trees slowly descending closer to the ground, yellow caution signs flashing. A squirrel played noisily in the fallen leaves of the woods to my right and a owl hooted from somewhere in the distance, still deep in the shelter of the trees. To my left, Jenna was practicing piano in our living room, a disjointed version of Dukas' The Sorcerer's Apprentice and Leslie was in the kitchen preparing the family meal for the evening. Bats occasionally fluttered over my line of sight and the hammock creaked as it rocked gently back and forth.

Then, slowly descending on a silk string, a spider landed in my lap and I popped out of the hammock like a spider monkey on crack. As nice as it was, it was over for me. That squirrel was starting to get on my last nerve anyway. Still, I do love this time of year. Well, my allergy medicine awaits. Good night dear friends.

Don't Give Up...

2010-03-30T22:10:00.000-04:00

...is a tired, overused phrase. As parents, we tell our kids, "Don't give up". As an employer, we tell our employees, "Stay the course, don't give up". As a pastor, you tell your congregation, "You can do it, don't give up".
The reality is, there are plenty of instances when we should, well, just give up. Still trying to hide that bald spot with a comb over? Give it up, brother. Still trying to count yourself as a viable political figure, despite your indiscretions and ultimate disgrace? That ship has sailed. Still looking for beauty by spending enough money on a plastic surgeon to feed a third world country? Just let it go.
Don't give up? I say, phooey! Give it up and try something different. Your embarrassed family and friends will thank you.
Trying to write a blog tonight that makes sense? I give up...

Being Angry With God...

2010-03-21T21:20:00.000-04:00

...seems to me to be a Christian's greatest secret. Why? Because you should always praise him through any adversity in your life, right? And just who are we to question Him, anyway? Well, perhaps that is true, but equally evident are the prayers of several men of God who were pretty angry and had a bone to pick with their heavenly Father.
Read:

Psalm 13:1-3
Psalm 22:1-2
Jeremiah 12:1
Habakkuk 1:2-3

A friend in our bible study tonight summed it up best by saying, "No one can handle your anger better than God". What it means to me is this: No, it's not right to be angry with God, but it is right and just to express every emotion in your heart to the Father. Even that type communion is welcomed by your Creator who longs to hear you lay out all parts of your heart. There's a benefit to being "real" in your prayer life, I think, in that even expressing the tough emotions can ultimately bring you closer to Him. And by getting closer to God perhaps we can shed some of the anger and move in a direction toward praise.

I'm not being Pollyannish in my thoughts on the subject. Anger toward God is real and probably more common among Christians than people will admit. However, expression of that anger to God is a powerful and surprisingly welcomed thing if from the heart. If being real with each other is important, how much more so that we keep it real with Him?

Surprises...

2010-03-16T21:34:00.000-04:00

...are not always good. Tuesday morning, I read about a 38 year old man who was jogging down the beach in Hilton Head and was hit and killed by a small plane making an emergency landing. Apparently, the plane had lost a propeller and glided onto the beach. A wing caught the jogging man from behind (he was listening to his iPod as he ran), killing him instantly. Now that is surprising and tragic.
Today, I learned that the man killed by the plane was a GSK employee whom I have know for 13 years. Bob Jones was a terrific guy who leaves behind a wife and two small kids. Not to mention countless friends with great memories. He worked in our Oncology division for many years, was a great contributor to our business and a fun, joyful coworker.
No. Surprises are not always good.

Finding A Place To Serve...

2010-03-07T21:41:00.000-05:00

...in this world is sometimes not as easy as it sounds. For one thing, even though there are millions of ways to get involved in helping others, not all of those ways are right for everyone. Leslie and I found it particularly important to find something that our entire family could participate in. And in the searching, we found such a place.
The general definition of respite care is the provision of short-term, temporary relief to those who are caring for family members who might otherwise require permanent placement in a facility outside the home. Our church, Saxe Gotha Presbyterian, offers such a program which caters to the needs of families with young children with special needs. Twice a month, we have the pleasure (and I do mean that in the most sincere way) of spending time with wonderful children, most of whom have been diagnosed with autism or other developmental challenges. And through this time, we as a family have grown to love these kids and in some way through the process love and appreciate each other a bit more.
The one thing that is always clear from the parents of these children is gratefulness. Gratefulness for the program, for our time and for a break in the week. As thankful as they are, I'm even more thankful to spend time with these unique and loving children. The Green's are the grateful ones. Thanks for allowing us the opportunity.

I Love Sam's Club...

2010-02-25T18:21:00.000-05:00

...and BJs, Costco and just about any other type of wholesale club warehouse (I had those names listed in a different order, making an interesting title but thought better of it). It's not so much the cost savings, as advertised on the commercials. The fact is we probably spend more at Sam's than we would, say, Food Lion. Who can resist a barrel full of animal crackers? I don't even particularly like them, but when they are gone I have a ready made pickled-egg-vat. Perfect for those long, cold nights!

No, the real reason I like wholesale clubs is that I can purchase more of the things I love and not appear to be gluttonous pig. A case and a half of beer? Well, that's all they come in, hon. Three pounds of spicy sausage? That's what's in the pack. A gallon of Squeez Cheez? We'll worry about storage another day.

But the best reason to shop at Sam's is to avoid needless embarrassment. If I walked out of Winn Dixie with 100 rolls of toilet paper, people might wonder-a) the size of my family, or b) perhaps the frequency of my, er, routine. That's way too much information and not something I want people speculating about. However, walk out of Costco with 3 years worth of Tampax and the lady checking your receipt at the door doesn't even give you a wink. It's all in a days work where a box of 250 Slim Jims are as commonplace as 60 packs of Hot Chocolate. Is this heaven?

For Those Interested...

2010-02-15T20:26:00.001-05:00

... the Greens just got back from a terrific trip to NYC. I don't care what anyone says about the place, New York is always a great time. The Big Apple certainly has a lot to offer anyone, but with that offer comes a catch. Everyone has their hand out. Or in the case of Lady Liberty, up. Say, is that gold on that torch?

I Felt Sorry...

2010-02-04T21:19:00.001-05:00

...for my newly bald friend, Chris Neeley. So I thought it might make him feel better to have a recent picture with the same head of hair that he had some 23 years ago.

It seemed to look better on him back then, don't you think?

In Marketing...

2010-01-30T20:25:00.000-05:00

the phrase "demographics" is used to describe various groups of people, some of which are targeted for advertisements or promotional campaigns. Obviously, today I entered a new demographic which is the over 41/less than 50 crowd. I received a coupon for "Touch of Gray" which promises, "...a breakthrough which reduces gray without getting rid of all of it." It goes on to say, "Let them see your experience and energy. You've got the best of both."

To the maker, Combe Incorporated, who graciously sent me the coupon for a free Touch of Gray product I humbly thank you. And salute you with the longest finger of my right hand.

Could this really be a 42 year old picture?

2010-01-30T10:28:00.001-05:00

And the Moral of the Story...

2010-01-29T22:26:00.001-05:00

...is to NEVER give up. Think your having a bad day? Take 4 minutes and watch this video of a young wildebeest in quite a predicament. While it may feel a little too familiar, the importance of perseverance is quite clear. Not to mention the importance of having friends.

A Crazy Hat Party...

2010-01-25T18:14:00.000-05:00

...is a party where people come wearing, uh...crazy hats. Now, while this sound pretty far fetched, it's really a blast. Imagine, everyone comes wearing a hat which they created, that displays something that's special to them. It could be a holiday (an Arbor Day hat would rock); a person (imagine the possibilities of an Elvis hat); an historical event (those British Dragoons wore some funky headgear); a hobby (my hat of geocaching is awesome); a religion (Does the Pope wear a funny hat?); a place (Leslie is wearing a hat dedicated to the Hawaiian islands). Just about any topic will do.

Short on cash and ideas, I thought about what kind of hat I should make for the Crazy Hat Sunday School Party which was to occur that evening. Over my lunch of fried chicken, mayonnaise and pickle on a bun, a moment of genius occurred. Krispy Kreme was right down the street, begging me to make a donut hat. However, practical as I am, I decided to stick with a Chick-Fil-A themed hat, as I was already here and too lazy to drive down to the donut shop.

I won first place that night and dedicated my winning hat to the Foundations Sunday School class the next morning. I'd say that was a good day of hat creating. And it was much easier than making an geocaching Elvis in a Pope hat.

Riverbanks Zoo

2010-01-23T07:00:00.000-05:00

Lawnchair Larry Walters...

2010-01-14T18:25:00.000-05:00

...was a simple man with a simple dream. He wanted to fly. And who could blame him. Even as a young man his eyes had been too weak to become a pilot in the Air Force, so his plans were changed but his dream never died. This truck driver would be the first to leisurely fly a lawn chair from his home in San Pedro, California to the desert. However, powered by 45 helium-filled, 4-foot radius weather balloons he ascended to nearly 16,000 feet, slowly drifting toward the Pacific Ocean.

It was a balmy Southern California day in July of 1982 when Larry and a group of friends launched his name from obscurity, forever associating him with a Sears and Roebuck lawn chair. Tethered to the weather balloons purchased from a local army surplus store, the seat as Larry described it was "very comfortable". It needed to be, because for the next 45 minutes Larry floated between San Pedro and the Ocean, entering the flight path for LAX. Two pilots had to change their course, reporting seeing a man in a lawn chair some 3 miles up.

The amazing thing about this whole ordeal was the level of the dream as compared to the lack of depth in the preparation. He took a pellet gun, a CB radio, sandwiches, cold beer (of course beer was involved), and a camera. All of those things may make some sense to the reader, though the gun may have you scratching your head. That, friends, was Larry's method of descent. Perhaps that idea wasn't all that bad, for after about 30 minutes Larry did attempt to pop a few balloons to begin the descent. However, in the chilling climate of 3 miles up, his numb hands dropped the gun. Fortunately, Larry had already popped enough balloons to begin slowly drifting back to earth. He eventually landed in power lines near Long Beach, California, creating a blackout for 20 minutes. While hanging in his chair in the lines he was only 5 feet from the ground, where he jumped into the waiting arms of the Long Beach police and several federal officials.

All in all his 45 minute, 16,000 foot journey fulfilled his dream and consequently made him an instant laughing stock. And yet there's something I can admire about the man. While I disavow his methods, I admire his determination. And with limited resources he did what he had to do to live out his dream of flight. While most of us would have attempted parachuting or hang-gliding to fulfill that destiny, Larry took a very different path. And with a name like Larry, perhaps a lawn chair really was the best method.

Footnote: Several years later Larry Walters drove deep into the Angeles National Forest and committed suicide by shooting himself in the chest. He was 44 years old.

2010-01-10T09:17:00.000-05:00

Here are two of my favorite guys in the world. My brother, Scott, is on the left. My father, Rick (should the gray in the mustache not give it away) is on the right. I've often found it interesting how different family members can be and yet how deep the love of family unites us despite those differences. As for the two men above, I remember a couple of instances that juxtapose those differences in who we are.

Years ago, Leslie and I lived in a small neighborhood that at Christmas would put out luminaries in the front yard. It was really pretty to see these flickering paper bags in front of each home on the street. My brother and father happened to be visiting in the late afternoon and so agreed to help me fill the bags with sand, set the candles and lay them along the sidewalk. Now for those of you who know me, I would just assume lay out a chalk-line, carefully measuring the exact distance between each bag. A bit over the top, maybe, but that's just how I roll. While I was filling the last of the bags with sand, Scott and Dad were busy laying them out along the sidewalk in the front yard. When I turned around, the line of luminaries looked about as straight as a line graph of the 2008 Dow Jones Industrial Average. They laughed as I followed behind, setting the bags in a straight line. Later I learned they did it just to get my goat.

It wasn't always done in a deliberate manner to toy with me, however. My Dad has always been the kind of guy who felt that functional was simply good enough. For twenty five years he had a slide bolt lock screwed to the inside of a bathroom door so it could be locked for privacy. I think he's beginning to rethink things however, as he recently removed the bolt lock and actually replaced the doorknob with one that locks. Similarly, a few years back Dad helped me put together a toy for one of the kids. I was bent out of shape to see that he had put a sticker of a clock on the toy upside down . He shrugged his shoulders, the kids never noticed and I experienced a small stroke from the incorrectness of it all.

I suppose my point is, perhaps what I love most about my brother and my father are not the multitude of things that we do hold in common, but the handful of things that are different about us. Maybe letting things go a bit more is an important component of true happiness. I'm not sure, but I'm working on it. And who knows, in 25 years I may remove the lockable knobs from my bathroom doors and install bolt locks.

...er, maybe not.

From the Archives

2010-01-07T21:41:00.000-05:00

As freshmen, Chris and Alan prepare to board a bus bound for a USC away football game.

As adults some 23 years later, Jay, Rick, George, Chris and Alan prepare to watch USC get their clocks cleaned on national television. Good times.

I Remember...

2010-01-03T22:33:00.000-05:00

...Doing the Time Warp. Let's do the Time Warp again- er, or not! A couple of nights ago, though we did not know it at the time, my lovely wife and I sat down for a Netflix disaster. It seems that there are certain memories which are worth... not remembering. One such memory was of the cult classic, "The Rocky Horror Picture Show". I will save you the effort in reliving the film by naming a few things which I had forgotten:

The movie was so low-budget it made "The Blair Witch Project" look like "Avatar".

Tim Curry is spectacular, if you like stained teeth and drag.

Bonus- You do get to see a young and very nude Susan Sarandon, albeit as a plaster statue. Caution- ain't worth the investment.

The movie is so blatantly gay that Paul Lynde would blush.

While Meatloaf does makes a brief and forgettable appearance, the only good song from this musical is the one I quoted at the opening of this blog entry.

OK. So I've saved you some time and perhaps saved you some cash. The bottom line is, renter beware. Your distant cinematic memories often should stay that way. For there is no sweeter memory than the one which has been deeply eroded by the flowing waters of time. The sharp edges taken away and replaced with glossy, slightly blurred impressions. Instead, two hours of my life were lost, needlessly remembering a close up of of Tim Curry's lips and a cast of rejects doing the time warp. God help us all.

New Years Resolutions...

2009-12-31T15:15:00.000-05:00

...could also be called, "Things I Will Do Differently, This Year". So in that spirit, here are my top priorities for 2010:

Continue to party like it's 1999. I want this to be a year of celebrating my kids, family and friends and not a year of stern correction, regret, judgement or pity.
Reach out to people who made a positive difference in my life and tell them about it.
Eat more fruits and vegetables.
Call my Mom and Grandmother more often.
SHOW my wife how much I love her- through small things, more often.
Organize my office and car.
Serve others more. I am being called to serve the homeless and just need to do it. And I'm not talking one Christmas meal a year.
Read the bible to my kids more often. Could be a great way to wrap up dinner.
Listen to my girls more often. Really listen.
Stop... be still... breath.
Keep my calendar a bit less full

What are your top 3?

Nocotine Stained...

2009-12-27T11:21:00.000-05:00

...moustache, bourbon and cigarette breath, St. Nick forever destroys the image of the jolly fat man in the impressionable minds of the Green boys (Alan on left, Scott on right). For more Santas pushing the envelope of creepy, visit SketchySantas.com.

Christmas Blessings...

2009-12-25T19:10:00.000-05:00

...are different things to different people. I've been thinking a lot about a blog that my buddy Todd recently posted entitled, "Too Blessed To Be Stressed". I think he was spot on in his analysis of what most Americans consider to be "God's Blessings". Some may say, "I am blessed because I have things", but isn't that just slick way of saying "I have more blessings (er, things) because God really likes me better than most"?
My pastor, incidentally, made the same point, last night, in a different way. He said, "If you are following Christ for the "blessings", you are committing idolatry. Good point. There is perhaps another way to look at this as well and from the opposite direction. How many of us dwell on the crap called life that hits us between the eyes while completely ignoring what are truly blessings from God?
I suppose that for me, the true test of whether something is a "blessing" seems to center less around "things" and more around people. My family and friends, kith and kin bless me daily. And I know without doubt that they have been sent directly from God. As for my new Blu Ray that the jolly fat man left me last night, not so much. Ah, but the coupon book from my 11 year old daughter with 1 free shoulder massage, among other things she thought would be nice... a priceless blessing.

More...

2009-12-22T18:30:00.000-05:00

...of the Neeley story, via WIS. Click here

Tonight...

2009-12-18T17:46:00.000-05:00

...I am feeling quite a few emotions. Sadness and pride, fear and admiration all mix together upon learning the news that my college roommate and dear friend Chris Neeley has been called to serve in Afghanistan. He will deploy in 3 weeks for a 1 year tour of duty in the most dangerous place in the world. Please pray for Chris, his wife Janie and their two children.

Freedom is a funny thing. A gift for which there is a heavy price, but no more so than on the backs of our soldiers. Soldiers like my friend Chris. We will miss you, but can't wait to celebrate your return. And thank you, Chris.
Here is an excerpt from Chris' letter to family and friend announcing his assignment:

Dear Friends, Wednesday afternoon I learned that I am deploying to Afghanistan for a one year tour starting in three weeks. Like all Guardsmen and Reservists, I knew the day would come when I would be asked to go -- I just didn't expect it to happen so soon. Obviously, Janie and the kids are very upset, as am I. No one in our house slept a wink the last two nights. We will get through this tour. Thankfully, we have a strong family, friend and church network in Columbia that can help us deal with the emotional stress of the separation.
Ok, so what will I be doing in Afghanistan? As I told my son Thursday night, "I will not be knocking down doors." Instead, I will be the Public Affairs Officer (PAO) for the 178th Field Artillery (FA) Battalion for the South Carolina Army National Guard. Our mission is two-fold: Counter-Insurgency and Provincial Reconstruction. As the PAO for the Battalion, I will travel across 13 provinces meeting with local tribal leaders and government officials to continue building relationships on behalf of the United States and our foreign allies. I am confident my political experience will come in handy! I will also be responsible for escorting international and national embedded media outlets in country, producing web based stories and fielding press inquiries from media outlets back home. The 178th FA is one of the most decorated and oldest Battalions in South Carolina. They get their nickname, "The Swamp Fox," from Revolutionary War hero Francis Marion (if you saw The Patriot, then you know Francis Marion). This will be an exciting, challenging and yes, a very dangerous adventure. It will sorta be like camp -- only the bears in Afghanistan shoot back! I will keep you posted on our progress by posting threads and pics on the web.
Feel free to call and write Janie and the kids to offer words of encouragement. They will need a lot of support and prayers while I am gone. I will miss each of you dearly. I look forward to returning in January 2011 as a better Soldier, friend, son, brother, father and husband. I am honored to serve our Country and to follow in the long line of patriotic men and women who have fought to defend freedom around the world. I know the Lord will watch over me during this time of service.
Yours in Freedom, Chris

Caption This

2009-12-17T21:26:00.000-05:00

Some of the best responses on this blog seem to be the "Caption This" picture opportunities. This seems like a good one to me, so let's give it a try. What should the caption be? I'll attempt to get you started with: "No, it's not very practical but it looks great in my pocket.", Arnie exclaimed.

OK, A Harder One

2009-12-16T07:42:00.001-05:00

Where in SC is this?

OK, An Easy One

2009-12-14T07:04:00.000-05:00

Where in SC is this short but descriptive advertising posted?

I Don't Know Why...

2009-12-13T08:52:00.001-05:00

...I got on a kick of bashing Facebook some weeks ago. At the time I was under the delusion (probably instigated by stress and caffeine) that Facebook was one of the best examples of a social outlet which lacked authenticity. While I still believe that to a certain extent, I think it's also rather prevalent even under my own roof.

After all, what's the first thing you do when the doorbell unexpectedly rings? For me, I tuck in my shirt, throw the can of cheese whiz back in the pantry, quickly and neatly stack the strewn magazines and mail into one pile and, if I have time, sedate the dog. Voila! "Welcome to my home, Mr. UPS Man. Charmed!"

Then I began to examine the walls of my home, full of framed smiling faces and wonderful places. They even smile when I'm pounding the walls and yelling for the kids to hurry up. "We're late for church, you slacker ingrates!" And despite my seemingly non-Christian rants, the pictures continue to smile, reminding me of the times I didn't want to pack my bags and leave for Ireland. (or Conway or Aiken for that matter)

I guess the point is, what's the matter with putting on your best face? As long as in the end, we can be honest with ourselves, our family and friends. In the end, being "real" with one another is what friendship is all about. Anyway, I look forward to your next visit and we'll enjoy the remaining cheeze whiz in the pantry. You, of course, can have that first 1/2 inch of hardened squirt, my authentic gift to you.

The Human Fund...

2009-12-10T20:54:00.000-05:00

...was the fictional charity that George devised to save himself money during the Christmas season. Below is how I imagine that his card read. Check out the clip on YouTube by clicking here.

The rest of this commentary has been removed because my wife reminded me of a certain incident from over a year ago. I will learn by that famous removal of commentary and do the same. Thanks, Management

Chuck contemplates his fate

Am I Blessed, Or What?

2009-12-04T21:45:00.001-05:00

Here are a few photos from a November photoshoot.

Outrageous...

2009-12-01T19:28:00.000-05:00

...is a pretty strong word. Especially when used in the context of entertainment. I found this card in a coffee shop in Greenville, SC. The question I keep asking myself is simply what constitutes "outrageous entertainment"? Semi-dangerous stunts from the stage? Pantsless card tricks? I really want to know.

In any case, I love the fact that Bernie is a self proclaimed magician, musician, comedian, emcee and host. And if he's pretty good at all of those things, then by golly that's outrageous talent.

My Mind Was Blown Today...

2009-11-23T17:33:00.000-05:00

...while walking down the aisle of BiLo. I always thought that Brussel Sprouts grew like, well how they look, baby cabbages. Or inside these little net baggies, as seen above.

Instead, I find out they grow on stalks. Who knew. My vision of little people farming the land with tiny hoes and tending miniature rows of these little green delights is now officially blown. I'm going home to drink a beer and sulk for a while.

Well I've Tried...

2009-11-22T20:44:00.000-05:00

...to be as honest as I can in photos. I have been accused of not respecting the benefits of Facebook to not actually posting the worst picture that I have on file. I must admit to not spending hours looking for my worst photos, but I did give it a shot. In fact, here's another one for your viewing pleasure. The things you can do with a radish...

The one thing I have noticed is that no one else has taken the challenge to post their worst pictures in a public way. I stand to be the only schmuck who gave it the ol' college try. Honesty in photos is dead, I have determined, except when posted by other people (who incidentally have taken full editing rights for themselves if they are in the picture in question). Editing and self-sanitizing are alive and well on the visual Internet. And so enjoy candy land my dear friends. Enjoy.

Fake Book...

2009-11-17T21:23:00.000-05:00

...seems to be the fad of the day, with just about everyone but me living out fantasies of meaningful reconnections and spit-polished lives. Yes, I called it "Fake Book" because, in my jaded way, that's what I believe it to be.

Case in point, the pictures. Nobody, and I mean nobody, posts a picture of their true selves. Instead, they post only the very best pictures that have ever been taken. In some cases, dare I say, photo shopped dream shots which don't display the following:

bald spot, nose hair, crows feet, dangling ear lobes, bloodshot eyes, gray roots, adult acne, stained crooked teeth, fat butt, pasty white skin, sagging breast... OK, you get it.

So in a conversation I recently had with Caryn Kirk, she threw down the gauntlet. "If your so sure that's what people do, then why don't you take a lousy photo of yourself and post it", she said. And of course, as is common with Caryn, her suggestion was brilliant. And so the post, "I Welcome Your Comments", below. I have even inspired to post a few more, showing an end of the spectrum rarely seen... the worst of my reality. And if "Fake Book" displays the best, I imagine that we are all somewhere in between.

Do you have the guts? I dare you.

I Welcome Your Comments...

2009-11-11T22:31:00.000-05:00

Happy Halloween!!!

2009-10-31T19:21:00.001-04:00

Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs...

2009-10-26T18:56:00.000-04:00

...is well known in Psychological circles. Since I neither run in these circles nor particularly care for those that do, I know very little of this theory. Except to say that it makes some sense to me. The proposal is basically this:

You have a select grouping of basic needs in life, represented by the lower part of the pyramid. Things like, eating, breathing, resting, using the john, etc.

You can rise above your basic needs in life and enter several tiers of elevated needs. At the top of the pyramid you will notice some pretty weighty needs like morality, creativity and problem solving- all of which can be accomplished while on the john. But I digress...

All of this is really a set up for my basic theory of needs. We'll call it "Green's Hierarchy of Needs and Wants", which has a nice ring to it. My theory is simply this:

We all have basic needs in life, some of which are Priority Needs (PN) and others which are non-Priority Needs (NPN). Examples: Food is a PN, while sexuality is a NPN. Some would argue that point, I am sure.

Then there are Wants, some of which are Priority Wants (PW) and some which are simply Non-priority Wants (NPW). Examples: Money could be considered a PW, while a plate full of jello-shooters could be a NPW.

So here's the deal. This is a list of my favorite Non-priority Wants. Things that I want, but really don't need at all:

A chain saw- I have little need for this, but it would look really cool in my garage.
Variety of bath salts- I would probably put these in my guest bath, but then again there is only a shower in there.
A Mister P-Nut commemorative bank- Saw one of these at an antique store once and I almost bought it. I don't really know why.
Rock Climbing Gear- I don't do it, but one day I might.
A fez
Leather driving gloves
New golf clubs- Tried this once and it didn't improve my game at all.
Set of 100 yard flags- I actually did buy these the other day, just in case I have to show where some underground wiring is or lay out a patio.
Best of SNL DVD- That would be cool to have.
Set of large leather books for my bookcase- content unimportant.
A coffee mug with "The Best Dad Ever" printed on it
"I'm with Stupid" T-shirt
A ship bell
A miniature horse named "Turd Ferguson".
An abacus
Set of bagpipes- I would enjoy the sound of these for about 12 minutes.

What would you put into this category?