Wow! It’s been so long! I believe it’s my longest ever without posting…

I wish I could explain why I haven’t posted but I can’t… just life getting in the way of blogging again…

Today was Gman’s 14^th birthday.

I didn’t get to see him due to some screwed up circumstances but I talked to him at length and realized I now have a 14 year old little man on my hands… He’s such a cool customer! He has life all figured out like only a 14 year old can and is completely and utterly fascinated with cars… My kind of dude…

My absence from blogland has been sort of on purpose but more so because life has taken on a certain routine that doesn’t lend itself to my kind of blogging (that means my life has become rather boring)… and I didn’t figure you all would want to hear about the day-to-day grind that has encaptured the last couple months of my life…

The days of exciting adventures where Gilbert and I meet such interesting people as the flocks of south-traveling birds or the interesting people of retail-fast-food fame seem to have come to a halt. Or at least that is my excuse…

 

I really think that my imagination took a leave of absence and I am finding that putting words on paper is harder for me than it was at one time…

Being funny is important to me…

How’s that for a confession?

I can't tell you exactly why I feel the need to be funny…

Perhaps because I learned in Middle School that being funny was the way to stand out amongst the crowd.

Perhaps because it is more important to me to make you laugh than tell you my innermost secrets.

Perhaps because I want to make your day easier than I know mine will be….

Who knows…

This silly blog has always been a little out-of-the-norm so I guess that it always will be that way…

Know this though…

I miss all of you and want more than anything to stay in touch…

I haven’t given up yet…

 

It’s really difficult to describe my day today!

As I rode in the taxi past the Superdome in New Orleans and the driver explained how he spent eleven days sitting on the roof of his house, I looked around in awe that there is so little evidence of the disaster that occurred here.

But then I started listening closer to the driver, Ismail from Egypt who has lived here 19 years, and realized that the lingering damage of Katrina is on the inside.

These buildings and structures I was looking at with their freshly painted facades and new signage looked better than they probably had in years. But, just like Ismail, there are probably a lot of things on the inside that will keep them from ever being as good as they were. A loss of some sort of structural integrity after being so soundly thrashed by unseen forces that were beyond control.

Ismail described his troubles getting his house fixed. To this day he is still arguing with his insurance company and FEMA over how much damage was actually done to his house.

This same man, who is caught up in a life-affecting struggle with a government entity, went on to describe to me the day that he got his US Citizenship after achieving a perfect score on his test. The pride in his voice caused a lump to form in my throat.

The humor you all are used to in my entries is absent today. I think it’s because, until today, I really had no idea what some of these people down here in the Big Easy went through. After hearing his heart-wrenching story first-hand, it was anything but easy…

I guess it just made me realize that no matter how bad we think things are for us, there are people who would do anything it took to live here in our wonderful country…

Even when our government can be all wet sometimes…

 

Sometimes when Town business is in a lull and I am looking for stuff to do, I open a new browser window, go to my favorite search engine, and just search for the craziest things I can think of just to see what’s out there. Sometimes it can be a little scary what you can find on the internet, sometimes it’s funny (I have to admit to even finding ZwebbyVille on two occasions on things I didn’t remember blogging about) and sometimes you find a few things that make you go hmmm?

Usually by the time I get to something of interest I forgot exactly how I got there and tonight was no exception…

This news story is exactly a year old today but it seems that Stanley “Tookie” Williams was executed in California for murders and other crimes committed while serving as leader of the Crips gang.

The moral ramifications of the death penalty or gang activity is not the purpose of this entry nor am I trying to poke fun at any serious aspect of this story…

But here’s the funny part…

Arnold Schwarzenegger was born in a small little village just outside of Graz, Austria and was an honorary citizen and holder of the town’s coveted title of Ring of Honor. The 15,000 seat Sports Arena in the town was even named after him in 1997. Arnold, the poor farmer’s son-turned international celebrity, was a source of pride for this little Austrian community. Until now…

It seems that the leaders of the town are very angry over the California Governor’s decision to not stop Tookie’s execution. "I submitted a petition to the City Council to remove his name from the stadium, and to take away his status as an honorary citizen," Sigrid Binder, the leader of the Green Party, said in a recent interview. "The petition was accepted by a majority on the council." So his name was removed from the stadium and his status as an honorary citizen was removed as well...

Most of Europe feels that our use of the death-penalty is barbaric but Graz decided to make a moral stand in an effort to not see any more deaths.

Apparently what Graz hasn’t seen is a single one of their precious native son’s movies…

According to another site I found, Arnold has racked up an impressive 538 kills during his movie career. They range from simple little kills with a shot to the head all the way up to the dramatic explosions where numerous ‘bad’ guys are taken out all at once.

So here is the moral I suppose that Graz’ leadership wants all their citizens to learn:

If you blow away a few hundred bad guys with a machine gun on a huge movie screen where children can watch the splatter, you will get your name on our Sports Arena. BUT… if you allow one truly vicious man who has been convicted by a jury of his peers to die as his sentence deemed fitting… well… we just can't be a part of that Arnold so, please, we need our key back…

Ok… so maybe this wasn’t so funny… but it sure does go a long ways towards making my point that when people decide to get on their soap-box they need to make sure they aren’t talking bad about soap…

I’ll be back…

 

All my life I have been taught to not put all my eggs in one basket…

40 years of experience has shown me that it isn’t all that easy…

Sometimes life gives you only one basket… sometimes life gives you only one egg…

So here’s my question(s)…

Why does life have to give you eggs anyway? And why in the world would you need to put them in a basket?

Why can’t life give you something much more substantial like boulders? If life gave you boulders then you wouldn’t need to worry about what you put them in. You could put boulders in anything from a pickup truck to a slingshot and you would still be ok. You probably wouldn’t need to put them in anything at all… after all, they are boulders…

Or is life is predetermined to give you eggs? If that’s the case, then why can’t life also be predetermined to give you little egg crates to put them in? Or at least little egg-shaped Styrofoam containers?

Do you ever get the feeling that life just wasn’t meant to be easy? Do you ever get the feeling that life is just a crossword puzzle full of trick questions and misleading clues??

I know enough by now to know that life isn’t easy… it’s pretty doggoned hard…

But I really want to know when they hand over the right basket to put all of life’s little friggin’ eggs into… I really want to know when I get the egg-shaped Styrofoam… I really want to know when the eggs turn into boulders…

Perhaps I have some romanticized idea of life… perhaps I have yet to learn that the little eggs that make up each of our lives are so fragile that they can break so easily… perhaps I misunderstood the difference between an egg and a boulder…

Perhaps I should be concentrating on the basket and not the egg…

 

Today marks ZwebbyVille’s first birthday.

One year ago today I was sitting in a hotel room, surfing the internet trying to not be bored and came across a story about MSN Spaces. After spending a few minutes reading the featured Spaces for that week I was hooked!

Next thing I know I am signing up for my own Space and needed a name… Obviously I chose ZwebbyVille (Click here to find out why)

At first it took me a while to get going. But I started getting to know a few others and reading their blogs everyday. There were some I liked, some I really liked and some I didn’t. But, after a few weeks, I realized I wasn’t bored anymore!

Then one day I get a comment on my guestbook, it was December 28, from Manny’s Mommy. She made the observation that if this was ZwebbyVille then I must be the Mayor. I really liked the idea of the blog being about a little town and the Boys being my Aldermen, so I stole her idea from her and ran with it.

Now, a year later, there are so many reasons why I am glad I found this place:

I have learned how much I enjoy writing, even if it is about silly stories and made-up adventures.

I have a constant source of entertainment that includes humor, romance, journals, and anything else I feel like reading.

I have something to share with the Boys. They are constantly asking me about ZwebbyVille and its happenings.

And there are lots of other reasons as well…

But the main reason why I love Spaces is the people I have met. I have made many many friends. Some that are just solely blog-buddies; some that are fun to email back and forth to; some that I talk to regularly on the phone and have even been to their house… and I am so glad to know all of them!

I have said this before, the little escape from reality that ZwebbyVille provides me is a necessary thing in my life.

But the true reality of it is that without all of you in BlogLand this last year would have been considerably tougher for me. So I wanted to take today and say thanks to all of you for bringing ZwebbyVille to life for me!

Thanks!

 

Some scholars would argue vehemently that Abraham Lincoln was the finest president who ever served.

Whether or not that is true, it cannot be argued that his quiet, thoughtful way of leading our country through one of its most trying times is a testimony to why there are so many monuments that bear his name.

Some would even go as far to say that this one man changed the course of history.

Many times I have heard people use his example to prove that a single person can make a difference. But usually when that is tried, the person who should be learning the lesson thinks to themselves, “Yeah… but he was Abraham Lincoln!!” And he was. A truly great man.

Do a Google search for Abraham Lincoln and you get over 13 million results. While you’re there, do one for Austin Gollaher and you will get fewer than 11,000. And even fewer of those go further than a sentence or two about the man.

So who the heck was Austin Gollaher?

Would you believe me if I told you that without Austin Gollaher, Abraham Lincoln would not be the face on our penny nor would you have even heard of Honest Abe?

Austin Gollaher led a very uneventful life, dying in 1898. He wasn’t famous, he wasn’t a great thinker, he wasn’t even a politician. Not too many facts of his life can even be found… except one major one. He was Abe’s best friend in 1816 when the two of them were wandering down Knob Creek in Kentucky one Sunday morning.

Abe tried to cross the rain-swollen creek on a narrow log and lost his footing and plunged into the 8 foot deep creek. Since neither seven-year-old Abe nor ten-year-old Austin knew how to swim, it was a desperate situation for the future President.

But quick-thinking Austin grabbed a nearby branch and pulled Abe to safety…

Don’t feel bad if you’ve never heard of Austin Gollaher. I hadn’t either… And it’s hard to say how things may have been different had it not been for his gallant actions when put under such extreme pressure.

Can one person make a difference? Do you have to be famous or rich before you can change the course of history? I guess I can’t answer that for sure… But this I do know… Austin Gollaher made a difference to Abe Lincoln. It didn’t earn him fame or fortune but I can only imagine the depth of his pride whenever he read of Abe in the paper or heard people talk about how Abe had affected our country knowing that he was partially responsible…

The beautiful part of this story?

It takes both an Abe and an Austin to tell it…

 

Somehow… it’s the end of October…

Doesn’t seem possible, does it? This year has flown by faster than a bag of M&M’s disappears at a Weight Watcher convention…

And of course with the end of October comes Halloween…

I asked the Boys today what they were planning for Halloween and was quickly reminded that they are ‘too old’ for Trick or Treating. Kind of made me sad that they are past the point of enjoying this particular holiday.

It did make me remember a few of the Halloween’s I had as a kid…

My first Halloween memory is from the year I was 4 years old. I wore a race car drivers mask with my costume that year and the holes for my nose were too small. That meant that every time I would breathe the mask would fog up. Ultimately, this little ‘wardrobe malfunction’ resulted in my running smack dab into a fire hydrant and spending the rest of the evening getting stitches in my forehead.

The only other specific year I remember is the Halloween of my Sophomore year when I and a few friends got caught TP’ing the house of our band teacher, Mr. Miller. We had a blast while in the TP’ing process but, for some reason, my Junior and Senior years were much harder to enjoy Band everyday…

Other, less specific memories, were things like:

§         the old lady down the street who made the most awesome popcorn balls on the face of the earth

§         My parents checking every piece of candy for the infamous razor blades

§         Hayrides and bonfires that stressed me out trying to find a date

§         Wondering how I could dress like a Hobo again this year but look different than I did last year

Halloween is one of those times that makes me realize how much has changed over the years. My mom would help us get dressed and send us out with our pillowcases and we wouldn’t come home till they were filled with enough candy that we would be on a sugar high for the next two weeks. Today, I can’t even imagine sending the Boys out all alone.

Makes me long for the days when life was just a little simpler and the days when people still knew how to make a popcorn ball…

Trick or Treat…

 

Hello Everyone!

 

I have been getting quite a few emails and messages asking if I am still alive so I figured I should post something before the weekend…

 

The space between this post and my last one has certainly been my longest ever and I can’t really figure out why I haven’t felt like writing. The last few weeks have been a time of decisions in my life and since I have very limited brain power to begin with, I thought I should use all of it to make these decisions.

 

But since this weekend is Father’s Day, I wanted to post a quick little story…

 

Driving down the road with the Aldermen the other day, I was telling them about their Uncle and his new job. Right in the middle of a sentence, Cman calls out “Oh my gosh, Dad!!” Worried that something was wrong I stopped my explanation and asked, “What?!?!”

 

He laughs and says, “When you said that last sentence, you sounded EXACTLY like Papo!!” Papo is what they call my father…

 

So I guess the transformation has begun…

 

Every once in a while I will catch my reflection in the mirror, or will move my hand just right and think to myself, “Man… that sort of looked like my Dad…” But now even the Boys are starting to notice it.

 

Reminds me of a quote from Charles Wadworth: By the time a man realizes that maybe his Father was right, he usually has a Son who thinks he is wrong.

 

Fatherhood is my greatest joy and I thank God daily for giving me Gman & Cman. Unfortunately, being a Father (or Mother) is an on-the-job-training type of thing so I know I have made some mistakes along the way. Whenever I read a report card or watch a ball game though I know the Boys are going to be fine.

 

I am sure they will make the comment about never wanting to be me, don’t we all say that about our parents at some point?

 

But I hope that some day their son tells them they did something that reminded them of me. And I hope they get the same feeling inside that I did…

 

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

 

 

The phone rings…

 

“Hi Rusty… it’s your Mom…”

 

Two things are wrong with this picture. One is that as soon as she says ‘Rusty’ I know it’s her and two is that she thinks she has to tell me it’s her. I would recognize her voice anywhere…

 

But when she calls, I always get a warm fuzzy feeling inside. She’s my Mom.

 

Some people say Mother some say Momma… I have always called her Mom.

 

Like anyone, I have had my differences with her. There are times when her constant advice and nosiness gets annoying. But, overall, I wouldn’t trade her for your mom or anyone else’s because… it wouldn’t be my Mom…

 

On this Mother’s Day Weekend, even though I’m working all weekend, I will make sure to set aside an hour to talk to her. My Mom is an hour phone-call at least. When you hang up, you honestly couldn’t repeat everything you had just talked to her about. Mainly because I do so little of the talking… But you feel good inside. You feel loved, cared for and somehow, it always makes me feel like I’m 10 years old again…

 

There are some people out there who have strained relationships with their mothers and I feel very sorry for them. My Mom isn’t a daily influence in my life, we don’t even talk on a regular basis. But when I hang up I always feel just a little better.

 

She doesn’t read ZwebbyVille so she will probably never see this but, on this weekend, I felt I had to tell you all… she is my favorite lady in the world.

 

From her Tacos to her Roast Beef to her Cherries Jubilee… From her laugh to her silly ‘phone voice’ to her strange sneezes… From her concern to her words of wisdom to her love…

 

She is my Mom…

 

Happy Mother’s Day!

The Mall Parking Lot was an interesting experience again today. It rained most of the day and keeping phone cords, computers and paperwork from getting wet for 14 hours was as enjoyable as when you ask someone, “How are you today?” and they actually tell you how they are… for 30 minutes…

 

But today was the ‘Halfway Day’ of the event, so it’s all downhill from here.

 

To someone who has served aboard a submarine, Halfway Day means the point of a patrol when you start heading home and is a very enjoyable saying.

 

We would be out to sea roughly three months at a time so Halfway Day usually was around the 45 day point of being ‘underway’ (Navy-speak for being at sea) and was filled with everything from celebrations to traditional events to practical-joke-playing.

 

Most submariners would have a ‘Halfway Day’ package put together by a wife or parent filled with pictures and letters and varying types of long-lasting treats like beef jerky or candy. These were so much fun to open!

 

There was always a movie marathon playing in the Crews Lounge consisting of the favored ‘Patrol Flicks’ (favorite movies) for that particular patrol

 

The Mess Cooks would prepare a special meal like Steak & Lobster.

 

The NFG’s (new guys) would always have some sort of prank played on them.

 

And every Crewmember would go to sleep with a smile knowing that we were that much closer to going home…

 

One particular Halfway Day, during one of our ‘traditional events’, the Halfway Day Cribbage Tournament, I found myself in the Final Round. I had played really well during the first few rounds and had gotten a little lucky as well.

 

The problem was my Final Round opponent…

 

Cribbage Matches were played as Best Two of Three games. My opponent and I were even up going into the third game and both within a “15 for 2 and a pair for 4” of winning the Tournament. (If you have never played Cribbage, let’s just say at this point it was anyone’s game) I realized the cards I was holding gave me the win but then I also realized that my opponent was a guy who, because he was my superior, could make my life harder if he didn’t like me. And losing in the Final Round to an underling in the Halfway Day Tourney could definitely cause a superior officer to lose face.

 

I had a serious decision to make.

 

Throw the game so he could win and not worry about any repercussions… or play the cards I had been dealt, throw caution to the wind, go for the win… all the neat little sayings that we hear all the time…

 

Being young, a little cocky and too competitive… I played the cards and won the Tourney. As soon as I moved my peg into the ‘Winners Circle’ I feared I had made the wrong choice! What was I doing!! This guy could make my life a living hell! Oh, man…

 

Later that night, at the Halfway Day Awards Ceremony, as the CO (Commanding Officer of the submarine) handed out Halfway Day Awards, I was still worried about making the wrong choice…

 

When it came time for the Cribbage Tournament Award, the CO said, “The Cribbage Tournament Award goes to Petty Officer Russ. There are very few Petty Officers who would have had the courage to beat me in the Final Round…”

 

He ended up being one of my mentors and my favorite CO…

 

What I learned on this particular Halfway Day is this:

 

You either choose to play the cards you’ve been dealt or you choose to let somebody play you…

 

Either way… the cards you hold are your cards… How you gonna play’em?

 

 

There was a lot of excitement in ZwebbyVille over the weekend. So much excitement that an important day came and went without me remembering…

 

As of yesterday, ZwebbyVille has been an incorporated town for exactly 6 months…

 

In one way it seems hard to believe it has been around that long and in another way I have a hard time remembering what it was like to not post something everyday.

 

I honestly can’t begin to describe everything ZwebbyVille has done for me in these 6 months. It has been a source of therapy, a way to meet new friends, an outlet for writing, a way to make this big old world a little smaller and lots more…

 

Today the “Total Page Views” tally topped 37,000. That’s a bunch of people reading my silly postings, of which, this one makes number 134.

 

When ZwebbyVille first started, I really had no particular direction for it. Everything that it has become has been pretty much an accident. Most of it is due to all of you who visit and comment regularly. As it has evolved though, I have had lots of fun being the Director. Thanks to everyone for making it so enjoyable for me!

 

My sense of humor is unique. Some would even say… strange. But I guess that those of you who know who Gilbert, Harry and Doc are, would have to fall into that same category and keep coming to visit because ZwebbyVille does something for you. The ones who visited and didn’t ‘get’ ZwebbyVille never came back. Which, to me, is exactly how I would want it…

 

Blogland has been a little different the last few weeks. I know my schedule seems to have gotten so full that I only have time to post and randomly visit a few of you everyday. I’m sure all of you are feeling the same way.

 

Maybe it’s Summertime that is causing it. Who knows…

 

Don’t worry though, ZwebbyVille is now a small little blip on the Blogland map and I don’t plan on it going away…

 

The boys were quick to head outside after school today. It was a muggy day but who cares about muggy when you’re young and have been cooped up in school all day??

 

There are quite a few other kids who live around here and they all tend to meet on the basketball court after school. Then begins the negotiations for which game will get played…

 

I was lucky enough to be a part of the process today.

 

The game finally picked was “500”. I asked them to explain the rules to me so that I could play too. After the initial looks of “Do you seriously not know how to play 500?!?!” All four of them started talking all at once; “One guy throws the football to the rest of us”, “We all stand at one end”, “He calls out a point value between 100 and 500”, “He decides whether they have to catch it Dead or Alive”, “Unless he calls out ‘Jackpot’”.

 

My 40 Year old brain was immediately overloaded.

 

Somewhere along the way, as you get older, the ‘Game Gene’ that is located somewhere deep inside of your grey matter either becomes dormant or dissolves completely. When a 40 year old brain is introduced to a kid’s game such as 500, it doesn’t fare well.

 

When does this happen? When does it become impossible for us to have the immediate understanding of the concepts and objects of a game made up to pass the time between school and supper?

 

Maybe this is what we should be studying instead of some of the silly studies that our tax dollars go for. I would much rather some lab was working on inventing a “Fun” treatment!

 

Imagine a world where we all rushed home from work, changed into our ‘play’ clothes, and met out on the basketball court to decide the evening entertainment. Maybe we would all just jump on our bikes and go splashing through the mud puddles or play a big game of Tag until suppertime…

 

Now that I think about it a little more, though, maybe it is better this way…

 

If we never stopped having the afternoon playtime, we wouldn’t get to enjoy it as much to watch our kids go through that part of their lives.

 

Growing up is a little bittersweet…

 

 

For some reason I have been thinking about music all week…

 

I’m sure it has a lot to do with being located smack dab in the middle of Nashville (the home of Country Music) and Memphis (the home of Elvis) all week.

 

I remember sitting in the living room of my grandmother’s home and seeing the News break into whatever show we were watching with the horrible news that Elvis was dead.

 

Even though I was young and didn’t really ever think much about Elvis Presley, I can remember the terrible feeling it gave me to know he had died. He was, after all, the only guy I knew who could just be walking down the street and something would cause him to break into a song and everyone would think it was normal.

 

Maybe it was just that things were different back then.

 

I honestly can’t imagine that anyone in today’s world could be sitting at Starbucks with their girlfriend, who was slightly ticked off with them for supposedly flirting with the girl at the counter, and suddenly start singing a funny little love song.

 

Even more difficult to believe would be that not only could a guy start singing and dancing all around the Starbucks, but that there would be enough musically inclined individuals in Starbucks at that particular moment who also just happened to have their musical instruments with them.

 

Next time you are sitting in a Starbucks, stop to think how you would react if some dude suddenly began serenading his girl. Then he jumped up on the counter and started doing a little hip action. Next thing you know there is another guy at the end of the counter with a set of bongos and across the restaurant was another with a big Bass and right next to you was a third with a set of finger cymbals. And they all knew exactly the timing and arrangement of the song the counter-dancing dude was singing.

 

Would you be the girl leaning on the counter with your elbow, looking at him all dreamy-eyed, tapping your foot and snapping your fingers… or would you be trying to gather up your Lowfat Mocha Coconut Frappuccino with a Double Shot of Chai Crème with one hand and dialing 911 on your cell with your other hand, anxious to report the looney?

 

Yes… only Elvis could get away with Starbucks Serenading. Of course, he was the only one who could get away with wearing ten pound sunglasses and rhinestone and sequined jumpsuits too. I have always wondered how many times he tore up his nose by wiping it on his sleeve…

 

I honestly don’t believe the stories you hear about him still being alive and working as a bartender in Sikeston or a beachcomber in the Florida Keys, but, for some people it’s probably too hard to imagine he just died. He was the King after all…

 

There was that one time, though, when I paid the cab driver in Cleveland and he said…

 

“Thank You. Thank You very much…"

 

Hmmm…

If I said today was a busy day, I would be under-estimating greatly! It was one of those days where you really don’t have time to think you just function on some sort of internal auto-pilot where your mind and body know what you are supposed to be doing and some time later your brain catches up.

 

At one point I decided to step outside to catch my breath (Ok… to have a smoke… the busy days are the worst!). We are in the middle of Michigan and it was one of the most beautiful days I have seen so far this Spring! As I walked out the door I caught a whiff of a smell that I love… freshly cut grass…

 

Whenever I smell that smell it reminds me of so many Spring memories… and every one of them are pleasurable.

 

For some reason, as I stood there basking in the mid-afternoon Michigan sun, I remembered my first season in Little League…

 

I wasn’t blessed with the natural talent that Gman & Cman have but I was blessed with a love for baseball that exceeds any rational feelings that any one person should have for one sport.

 

Our house was a typical home that preachers live in, complete with a set of four stairs leading to the front door made of concrete. More functional than pretty. I can’t even count how many hours I spent with just myself, a glove and a tennis ball throwing the ball at those stairs and catching it repeatedly…

 

Somehow, I was picked to play on the team sponsored by the local Moose Lodge. I wasn’t very good… I played right field, if that tells you anything… but I remember the pride in which I would dress myself in that uniform before every game; the stirrup style red socks, the white baseball pants and uniform shirt, the red hat with the mesh back… Then I would jump on my bike, glove hooked on the handle-bars, and pedal my little legs off to get to the park in time for ‘warm-ups’…

 

The grass would always seem so green, the freshly-touched-up foul lines so white… I would step onto that field with a sense of awe… I was going to play baseball! I was going to be a part of a game that I loved!

 

Soon the park was filled with umpires calling out ‘Steeeriiike’ and little almost-changed voices chanting ‘Heeeyyyy badda, badda’…

 

I would stand there in right field, almost hoping the ball didn’t come to me… but at the same time, dreaming of the awesome diving catch I would make if it did…

 

I would smell the freshly cut grass, I would listen to my teammates chatter and somehow, I had the wisdom, even at that tender age, to know that this would always be my favorite time of year…

Ok… OK…

 

I guess I need to apologize to everyone for yesterday’s blog. When Alison even comments that it was too wordy then you know… well… it was too wordy. (Alison is trying to set the all-time record for lengthy comments. If you have never read her comments then you may not understand the joke. The worst part is, her comments are so doggonned funny that I look forward to them and laugh uproariously so I’m not complaining)

 

The point of the joke was a two word ad needs so many words to disclaim it in today’s society. I just got carried away I guess.

 

Humor is a funny animal.

 

I have learned since I started ZwebbyVille in December that when I write I really have no clue what you all will think is funny. Some of the posts that I think are hilarious are met with loyal comments that prove I don’t know humor from a hole in the head. Some of the ones that I think are the least humorous (Sounds of Fancy from two days ago for example) are commented on by everyone as to how funny they are. So I have decided to give up on trying to determine the humor quotient ahead of time.

 

The Funny Bone probably has something to do with it.

 

We all think our Funny Bone is located in our elbow for some reason. Many, many times I have bumped into something and got that odd almost painful feeling in my elbow and immediately we say, “OW! I hit my Funny Bone!” Well, I for one, find nothing funny about that!

 

But imagine if we actually had a Funny Bone…

 

Wouldn’t it be great if we could take that always serious guy in the office down to the ER and say to the doctor, “We just played the video of the Dancing Baby for this guy and he found nothing funny about it.” The Doctor would say, “Ohhh… hmmm… sounds like it could be his Funny Bone.” Then he would X-Ray it, put a cast on it, and, 6 weeks later, Mr. FrownyFace would be the life of the office.

 

When you made an off-hand remark in one of those serious business meetings that caused everyone to look at you in that “What did you just say!” way, you could blow it off by saying, “Oh, I’m sorry… I have an Enlarged Funny Bone” then everyone would just feel sorry for you and talk about you in the break room with stuff like, “You know that stupid joke he told this morning? He can’t help it… he has EFB Syndrome.” “How bad is it?” “Didn’t you hear that joke?” “Well… yeah… Guess it must be pretty bad!”

 

But until they discover the actual Funny Bone, I’ll just keep writing and hoping that you leave ZwebbyVille with at least a little smile.

 

When I read your comments… I do…

 

 

Holy Canoli!

 

You guys are all so awesome!!

 

I posted yesterday thinking it was one of the least inspired posts of my short career as a blogger. And the response was so overwhelming! Yesterday’s entry received more comments than the Monday ZwebbyVille was featured on Best of MSN!

 

As I’m writing this, I have exactly one hour left before the day that I have dreaded for so long is here. But after all the well-wishes I received from you all today, I am looking at things much differently than I thought I would be.

 

To me, it just proved how important this world of Blogland has become to me!

 

When I first started ZwebbyVille, I had no idea where it was going. If you go back and read some of my first entries back in December, there was no Mayor (which was Manny’s mommy’s idea, by the way), there was no Gilbert… there was just a guy who was looking for an outlet… looking for some therapy of sorts.

 

At the time, and still to a certain extent, I equated my writings sort of like playing Battleship;

 

“B-7”

 

“Ohhhh… You sunk my Battleship!”

 

I never knew how my posts were going to be received. Whether they were as fun to read as they were to write… I’d throw a coordinate out there and see if it hit or not. Some did and a few didn’t. Even now, I find myself reading the comments hoping I was able to make you laugh.

 

It is amazing and even a little scary how important ZwebbyVille has become to me. I constantly think about it. I find myself looking for ‘bloggable’ things that happen to me. I even feel a little obligated at this point to find some humor in my day to relay to all of you.

 

What has happened though because of this is that I have been able to realize how fortunate I really am. Telling you about how wonderful Gman & Cman are has cemented their awesome personalities in my mind forever. I look at them a little differently now because I can see how truly great they are. And how fortunate I am to be their Dad. I realize that there are people who enjoy hearing about them.

 

I also find that ZwebbyVille feeds a need inside of me to write. I will never be a Dan Brown or a Stephen King, but putting my thoughts into words on paper (or in this case, screen…) satisfies some urge inside of me to put thoughts into words.

 

Whatever the case, none of this would happen without you guys, your loyalty and your comments. I actually remember thinking how I would like to be a writer when ‘I grew up’. In my wildest dreams, I am positive I didn’t imagine it would be as the Mayor of an imaginary little Town like ZwebbyVille.

 

Today is ‘The Big 4-0’. I have worried and fretted about it for a long time.

 

But, thanks to you, it feels pretty good…

 

C-6?...

 

 

Here I sit with only hours left of my thirties.

 

If you haven’t put two and two together yet; this week’s posts have been a way for me to try to talk myself into the fact that being in my 40’s isn’t such a bad thing. From the Sam Spade gumshoe detective of the era to the musical theme to the growing up in the 40’s, it was all a clever deception on my part to fool myself into having a good outlook on this particular birthday. There is some inherent problem with trying to play a trick on yourself though…

 

The next time I take a survey I will have to check the next block up on the age category. That doesn’t really bother me. The next time something important happens I will think back on it and say, “I was in my forties when that happened”. That doesn’t bother me either. So why is it all I can think about?

 

I have heard that “Life begins at 40”. I am sure that after the numerous hours of labor my mother went through to bring me into this world, she would probably disagree with that. But I suspect that the saying is not to be taken literally. (Though if Life really did begin at 40 I would recommend buying some stock in Depends.)

 

On my 40^th birthday, I plan to repeat one activity from each of the decades of my life so far. It will probably go something like this;

• I spent a lot of time in my first ten years playing catch. Since I will have the joy of being with Gman & Cman on this special occasion, we will spend some amount of time with glove and ball enjoying, what I call, the Game of Life (baseball). Watching the two of them go through the motions of simply playing catch is one of the best birthday gifts I could ever receive.
• My teen years were spent developing into somewhat of a prankster. Since my birthday is only one day before April Fools Day, I have decided to make at least one prank phone call in rememberance of those many hours of my youth. Have to put some thought into this one since the advancement of technology has made it much more difficult to not get caught…
• My Twenties were mainly spent on a Submarine. I still have a few phone numbers of my shipmates and I plan to call a couple and relive a few sea stories.
• My Thirties were good and bad which made it hard to decide what to do. I did, however, learn to golf during this decade so I have decided to get in at least nine holes while the boys are in school.

 

May not sound like the most exciting birthday, but, to me I can’t think of any better way to welcome this new chapter of my life. Any ideas?

 

I have a couple of awesome little boys, a job and a place to live. So turning 40 could definitely be worse.

 

I also have ZwebbyVille and all of you that visit regularly. And you guys make it fun for me to blog, which really has meant a lot to me…

 

 

I know everyone of you have done this.

 

Somebody you know saw you typing on your computer or reading a site or, in some way, they have asked you what MSN Spaces or a ‘blog’ was all about.

 

After a couple of stutters and a false start or two,  you muttered something about it being kind of like a journal or a diary or a way of telling people about… or a… well, you tell them, you’ll just have to read it yourself…

 

By the time the encounter is over, you are feeling a little defensive and they walk away shaking their heads and chuckling to themselves about how you’ve finally lost it.

 

Or, maybe not.

 

But it happens to me on a regular basis. I mean, try to explain a blog to someone and then add that it’s about an imaginary town in which you are the Mayor and your imaginary friend is your running mate for President…

 

Today I was reading a rather new blog by Jen. I have to admit, she wrote a rather flattering post about ZwebbyVille which caught my attention. Not unlike Q had done for me when I was pretty new, I wanted to mention her so that everyone would check out her blog and see what they think.

 

I came up with an analogy today about how a blog takes off…

 

I am a popcorn freak. I love it! There have been many movies I have walked out of saying, “That was the best popcorn!”… the movie already forgotten.

 

Blogs, I think are like microwave popcorn.

 

You start out with a flat bag of potential. You start applying heat in the form of an entry or two. Nothing… So you keep adding heat with a few more entries… a little activity perhaps?? Sighhh… more heat, more entries…

 

What?? Was that a pop I heard?? Did someone comment on one of my entries??

 

Ok… turn up the heat… better entries… maybe a little more thought on this one… Wow!! More pops… three comments… OK… buckle down… max heat comin’ now… This next entry will be my best ever… Hmmmm… no pops… Oh Wait! There’s one and another… Oh and another one…

 

Next thing you know the comments are going crazy… the blogs popping… going nuts… the bag looks like it will burst but the pops are still popping…

 

Not all microwaves are the same. Some require more time to fill up that bag. Some require more power or energy… but eventually, the bag will be as full as the person making the popcorn wants it to be.

 

That’s when it’s time to kick back, press ‘Play’ on the VCR and enjoy your popcorn…

To say the response yesterday from being on “What’s Your Story” was overwhelming would be an understatement! I knew there would be a lot of visits and a lot of comments but really had no clue it would be as big as it was! Thanks to everyone for the kind words about ZwebbyVille! A couple of the comments even made Gilbert choke up a little (how come I get stuck with an oversensitive goofball of an imaginary friend? Why couldn’t he be like Clint Eastwood or something…)

 

My ego kinda reared its ugly head though as I was reading all the comments. This thought thundered through my head at one point, “Not too bad for an ole country boy from the Midwest!” But then I realized that one of the reasons I enjoy reading and writing so much is probably because of being from the Midwest!

 

As a young fella in a little town that was famous only because it was home to a maximum security prison, there just wasn’t a whole lot to do to avoid boredom. There really was very little to do for fun that wouldn’t get you into trouble. Some of you have read a few of my entries about the practical jokes I would play.

 

Actually about the only things there were was either the movies or the skating rink. And since my dad was a minister and movies were ‘frowned upon’, I spent quite a bit of time at the skating rink!

 

Looking back, I had a lot of fun there too.

 

Who can forget skating around in that big circle, trying to avoid all the little kids and praying to the Lord Almighty you didn’t fall on your butt right in front of the group of girls standing by the concession stand! Whenever you would get to that part of the rink, you would always put on your ‘cool face’ and act like you owned the joint while inside you were saying, “Lord, if you really love me, please keep your hand upon me as I try one more time to turn and skate backwards in front of these girls! If I do it without falling I will never again tell my little brother that Mom’s Diet Candies were good for him.” Of course, I would fall and Little Brother would get in trouble for eating those candies.

 

But, then the lights would dim and the big Disco ball in the middle would start turning. And, as those flashes of light made your head start to spin a little, the announcer would say, “Couples Only”. Immediately, your belly would twist itself into an intricate balloon animal that Bozo himself would be proud of. You would quickly glance over towards the concession stand with a look somewhat akin to fear, looking for that special one that you had your eye on all night. And there she was… looking straight at you!! You glide over to the edge of the rink, suavely stopping with the big rubber stopper on the toe, and say in your best impression of an already changed voice, “Wanna skate?” Her friends would giggle, but she would say yes and off you’d go.

 

Something truly innocent and amazingly sweet would happen as you grabbed her hand and started out into the flow of skaters. Most of the time, you really wouldn’t even talk… just skate around in that silly circle while your hand would start to sweat and you were saying inside your head, “Don’t fall! Don’t fall!”

 

By high school, neither of you would even remember that “Couples Only” skate that you had shared, but that night, you were just a little bit heartbroken as the song ended and the announcer said;

 

“All Skate”