Often times, when we publish a fifth issue of the month, I use the occasion to publish random thoughts, isolated ideas, and tidbits on various topics. (We publish this newspaper on Thursdays, you may know, which approximately four times a year causes us to have a month with five issues. It’s a great opportunity to do a little clean up.) This is one of those times.
Earlier this month, I offered my idea of changing the name of the month of “August” to “Elvis”. I think it’s catching on… I’ve heard chatter. Watch for congressional action any day now… or, at least, a petition-drive from “the people”. (I’m a little surprised the drive hasn’t already started spontaneously across the land. It’s just such a good idea.)
If we’re going to rename a month, someone suggested, shouldn’t we also update the names of the days of the week? I think that’s another fine and useful idea: We should rename some of the days of the week, especially those that begin with the same first letter.
“Tuesday” and “Thursday” both begin with letter “T”. How confusing is that? Couldn’t we just give one of them a different name, maybe something that starts with a “V” or a “J” (both very fine letters, but vastly under-used).
“Saturday” and “Sunday” also both start with the same letter, but since it’s the weekend, they could probably stay the same, because the weekend is really like one long day anyway.
If anybody wants to undertake the mission of renaming the days of the week, here are a couple of other suggestions:
1. Why not start completely over, and arrange the names alphabetically, which would help when computer programs are trying to sort by day of the week.
2. Why not sell names, like sponsorships of sporting events. Corporate America would pay BIG BUCKS to have a day of the week named for them: Billions. Can you even imagine how much The Donald would pay to have “Friday” renamed “Trumpday”? It could lower the national tax rate.
Those are my suggestions, but someone else will have to take up the mantle on this campaign, because I’m devoting my efforts to the month of “Elvis”
Now on to the weather… Has it been hot enough for you?
Our recent string of 100+ degree days has left a lot of people scratching their heads, wondering if it’s the effect of global warming. Here’s the answer: Yeah, the globe is warming. However, I still seriously doubt that we humans have made much of a dent on Mother Nature. (Truth is, in the big picture, we aren’t that big of a deal... we humans.) It was probably going to warm up regardless, kinda like the Ice Age managed to come and go without us.
Still, I do think from time to time about The Rainbow from Noah’s Ark. After the Lord washed most of humankind away to start over, he promised “never again”… but he was referring specifically to a flood. Overheating us out of existence is still permissible, because of that loophole. And if the Lord took a look around these days and decided he wanted to wipe out the human race, who could blame him?
I suggest we each say a little prayer that this is not what’s going on here with this heat wave.
But it has been HOT! Too hot to do anything. I’m thinking that’s why nobody has started knocking on doors with the “August to Elvis” petitions yet.
Random Topic Number Three: My weight loss competition.
I’m proud to report that I dropped eight pounds in the first week or so. I know this because my pal Jim Miles dropped in last week, and we held a mini-weigh-in. He was down seven, I was down eight, based on the Ronco Scale-a-Matic that we were using.
The contest is, of course, a three-month weight-loss competition between 17 local hefties, each of whom put $100 in the pot, with the winner(s) taking it all. We are now beginning week three of the marathon.
Last week, I announced an award for whomever guessed closest to the total combined weight of the 17 contestants in the weight loss competition. I’ll announce that winner next week.
But I also want to give you another chance to win a $25 Gift Certificate with another contest. I want to see who can come the closest to matching up the 17 contestants with their 17 beginning weights.
Following are the 17 weights, in descending order, followed by the names of the 17 contestants, in semi-alphabetical order (dyslexic version). How many can you correctly match up?
The beginning weights:
Four of ‘em topped 300 pounds: 331 lbs., 316 lbs., 312 lbs., and 302 lbs.;
Six were in the upper 200’s: 292 lbs., 285 lbs., 279 lbs., 273 lbs., 264 lbs. and 263 lbs.;
And the remaining contestants weighed in between 200-250: 245 lbs.; 237 lbs., 235 lbs., 234 lbs., two at 225 lbs., and 210 lbs.
Now, here are the contestants, in no particular order:
Former GOP Executive Director Scott Malyerck; Insurance Magnate Terry Campbell; State Senator Jake Knotts; Stan "The Man" Bowen; Ricky “Rubi” Wingard of Econo-Bug and LHS Roundball fame; R.J. Shealy (that’s Junior); former Secretary of State Jim Miles; Leesville Transport Professional Gerald Head; Irmo Town Councilman Barry "Fatback" Walker; ETV’s Andy Gobeil; Judge Brian Jeffcoat; Douglas Adam; A. L. Wingard; Kirk Luther, my business-partner; Lexington Town Councilman Danny Frazier; copywriter supreme Tim Kelly; and Yours Truly, your publisher: Rod-Boy.
Simply send me an email guessing which weight matches up with which of these
Colossal Contestants. Send it to RodShealy@aol.com. Whoever gets the most correct wins the prize!!!
Incidentally, since we’ve now published each of the seventeen individual weights, it’s too late to enter your guess in the “Guess the Combined Weight” contest – except for Clemson fans. (Y’all can still keep trying to guess.)
Hey! It’s football season. Go Cocks!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Candy from a Baby
Regular readers of this column will recall that I recently put out an open invitation for a few stout-hearted friends to join me in my next weight-loss competition. (Okay, not necessarily stout-hearted… just stout!)
You may remember that I had come to the realization during my recent class reunion – at which several of my classmates observed me on the dance floor and later asked me how I did “that jiggle move” –that I’ve let my stylish-figure slip a little, resulting in a body-fat-ratio that medical doctors refer to as being a “hippo-pig-whale”.
So the call went out for a competition. Eating a proper diet is not my strong suit – I like taters, and lots of ‘em, the greasier the better -- and the thought of exercise is so objectionable to me that I can’t even watch it on those early morning cable TV infomercials. But competition… that’s another story.
As a full-fledged red-blooded American, I thrive on competition. It’s what we do in the USA. You know, like when our hockey team beat the Ruskies in the Olympics a decade or two ago. Or NASCAR, when Little-E is battling the Evil Jeff Gordon. Or the WWF when… well, not so much the WWF, I guess.
As for me, competition is in my blood. In grammar school, when the other kids were dreading a pop quiz, I saw it as a challenge: a competition with the teacher. Granted, the teacher usually won, but it was good sport, nonetheless. (And don’t even get me started if there was a spelling bee.)
I have learned over the years that the ONLY way I can lose weight is to make a competition out of it. For me, that’s all it takes. If I can find just a few people to give me a challenge, I’m golden.
So the challenge went out a few weeks ago, and sixteen very naïve, even gullible, amateur contestants from round the Midlands answered my call. Very foolishly, I might add. As if there is even the slightest possibility that any of them – other than Yours Truly – might have a chance.
The whole gang met last Tuesday at the Sunset Restaurant in West Columbia for our last meal before heading down the street to C.C. Vaughn Scales for the official beginning weigh-in. (You can actually see video of that now famous Buffet of the Big Bellies on the Internet by checking out YouTube, or visiting my blog at: www.doingthefirst.blogspot.com )
Each of the Super-Sized Seventeen put $100 into a pot, which will be split by the two winners, to be determined by the “Most Pounds Lost” and the “Largest Percentage of Weight Lost” during the three month (13 week) contest period. In reality, of course, there will only be one winner – Yours Truly – who will prevail in BOTH categories, and walk away with ALL the loot. (And when I say “walk away”, I really mean “half-trot/half-jog”, which is what people do when they lose as much weight as I’m going to lose.)
Now, I know there are those who say all my bluster is merely false bravado: an effort to psyche out the other competitors. But I ask you, would I do that? Would I? (In my years of competition, I have developed a motto: “If I can’t win fair and square, I don’t want to win fair and square.”)
Not that it matters, but there are sixteen other people in the competition with me, who, for the sake of clarity, we shall refer to as “Runner-ups”. They are: Senator Jake Knotts, Stan "The Man" Bowen, Ricky Wingard, R.J. Shealy (that’s Junior), former Secretary of State Jim Miles, Gerald Head, Irmo Town Councilman Barry "Fatback" Walker, ETV’s Andy Gobeil, Scott Malyerck, Terry Campbell, Brian Jeffcoat, Douglas Adam, A. L. Wingard, Kirk Luther, Lexington Town Councilman Danny Frazier, and Tim Kelly… along with Yours Truly, your publisher.
We’ll talk more about this interesting collection of Out-of-Shape Individuals, and keep you posted with the progress of our little competition (or lack thereof), during the weeks and months ahead.
In the meantime, I thought I’d generate a bit of competition among our readers to get in the spirit. I’ve listed the 17 contestants above, and we’ll publish our individual beginning weights in a few weeks. But first, I want to see who can come the closest to correctly guessing our total beginning weight. (The closest guess will receive a $25 gift certificate.) Send your best guess to me by email, at RodShealy@aol.com, along with any disparaging remarks you wish to make about the group as a whole.
In the meantime, if you run into any of the other contestants (runners-up), tell them Rod said “thanks” for the swell money they’re going to give him.
Like taking candy from a baby.
You may remember that I had come to the realization during my recent class reunion – at which several of my classmates observed me on the dance floor and later asked me how I did “that jiggle move” –that I’ve let my stylish-figure slip a little, resulting in a body-fat-ratio that medical doctors refer to as being a “hippo-pig-whale”.
So the call went out for a competition. Eating a proper diet is not my strong suit – I like taters, and lots of ‘em, the greasier the better -- and the thought of exercise is so objectionable to me that I can’t even watch it on those early morning cable TV infomercials. But competition… that’s another story.
As a full-fledged red-blooded American, I thrive on competition. It’s what we do in the USA. You know, like when our hockey team beat the Ruskies in the Olympics a decade or two ago. Or NASCAR, when Little-E is battling the Evil Jeff Gordon. Or the WWF when… well, not so much the WWF, I guess.
As for me, competition is in my blood. In grammar school, when the other kids were dreading a pop quiz, I saw it as a challenge: a competition with the teacher. Granted, the teacher usually won, but it was good sport, nonetheless. (And don’t even get me started if there was a spelling bee.)
I have learned over the years that the ONLY way I can lose weight is to make a competition out of it. For me, that’s all it takes. If I can find just a few people to give me a challenge, I’m golden.
So the challenge went out a few weeks ago, and sixteen very naïve, even gullible, amateur contestants from round the Midlands answered my call. Very foolishly, I might add. As if there is even the slightest possibility that any of them – other than Yours Truly – might have a chance.
The whole gang met last Tuesday at the Sunset Restaurant in West Columbia for our last meal before heading down the street to C.C. Vaughn Scales for the official beginning weigh-in. (You can actually see video of that now famous Buffet of the Big Bellies on the Internet by checking out YouTube, or visiting my blog at: www.doingthefirst.blogspot.com )
Each of the Super-Sized Seventeen put $100 into a pot, which will be split by the two winners, to be determined by the “Most Pounds Lost” and the “Largest Percentage of Weight Lost” during the three month (13 week) contest period. In reality, of course, there will only be one winner – Yours Truly – who will prevail in BOTH categories, and walk away with ALL the loot. (And when I say “walk away”, I really mean “half-trot/half-jog”, which is what people do when they lose as much weight as I’m going to lose.)
Now, I know there are those who say all my bluster is merely false bravado: an effort to psyche out the other competitors. But I ask you, would I do that? Would I? (In my years of competition, I have developed a motto: “If I can’t win fair and square, I don’t want to win fair and square.”)
Not that it matters, but there are sixteen other people in the competition with me, who, for the sake of clarity, we shall refer to as “Runner-ups”. They are: Senator Jake Knotts, Stan "The Man" Bowen, Ricky Wingard, R.J. Shealy (that’s Junior), former Secretary of State Jim Miles, Gerald Head, Irmo Town Councilman Barry "Fatback" Walker, ETV’s Andy Gobeil, Scott Malyerck, Terry Campbell, Brian Jeffcoat, Douglas Adam, A. L. Wingard, Kirk Luther, Lexington Town Councilman Danny Frazier, and Tim Kelly… along with Yours Truly, your publisher.
We’ll talk more about this interesting collection of Out-of-Shape Individuals, and keep you posted with the progress of our little competition (or lack thereof), during the weeks and months ahead.
In the meantime, I thought I’d generate a bit of competition among our readers to get in the spirit. I’ve listed the 17 contestants above, and we’ll publish our individual beginning weights in a few weeks. But first, I want to see who can come the closest to correctly guessing our total beginning weight. (The closest guess will receive a $25 gift certificate.) Send your best guess to me by email, at RodShealy@aol.com, along with any disparaging remarks you wish to make about the group as a whole.
In the meantime, if you run into any of the other contestants (runners-up), tell them Rod said “thanks” for the swell money they’re going to give him.
Like taking candy from a baby.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Weight Lost Contest August 07
Seventeen contestants gathered at the Sunset Restaurant in West Columbia for their last meal before embarking on a three-month-long weight loss competition. Pictured are Jake Knotts, Stan "The Man" Bowen, Ricky Wingard, R.J. Shealy, Jim Miles, Gerald Head, Barry "Fatback" Walker, Andy Gobeil, Scott Malyerck, Terry Campbell, Brian Jeffcoat, Douglas Adam, A. L. Wingard, and Kirk Luther. Not pictured are Danny Frazier, Tim Kelly, and Yours Truly.
Monday, August 13, 2007
It's Elvis, the 21st
There must be something wrong with me as a columnist. During the nearly 20 years I have been pecking out these semi-regular, quasi-literary gems, I don't recall EVER having written about ELVIS.
How can anyone write newspaper columns for all those years and never mention The King? Especially if you write during the month of August!
August, you know, is right in the middle of what used to be referred to as Dog Days... those hot, listless days in the late summer when nothing much seems to happen. For reporters, Dog Days often meant going on some sort of witch hunt to find something to write about, because nothing newsworthy was ever happening.
But not any more. In the 30 years since the departure from this world of The King of Rock and Roll (or did he?), August has become Elvis is Dead Anniversary Month, and the media have had plenty to write about and broadcast. The media saturation has been perhaps a little heavier than usual this year, since this is the Thirtieth Anniversary (that's pearls if you're buying gifts) of the Unsolved Elvis Mystery.
It has occurred to me that this is not going to stop. It seems to me that Elvis-mania is only getting stronger each August, to the point that it now seems to dominate the airwaves.
Which is why I am offering this very bold proposal, that I believe will have great support throughout America: Let's just change the name of the month from "August" to "Elvis".
August, after all, was named after Augustus Caesar, who lived about 2,000 years ago. Like Elvis, he too was a king, or emperor, or whatever they had in Rome. (I don't know because, in the ninth grade, I chose to take Intro to Typing instead of Western Civilization.)
I imagine Augustus Caesar was very big in his day. They probably painted Velvet Augustus's, and I'm sure over-weight, middle-aged women with big hair and tears streaming through their caked-on, multi-colored makeup visited Cease-land every year after he was gone.
But, that, as they say, is "ancient history". He's like nowheresville today. He's had his millennium... actually two of 'em.
Now we're in a new millennium, and who says we can't do a little touch-up work to the calendar.
I'll bet if we put it on the next Election Day Ballot -- Elvis Presley versus Augustus Caesar, Elvis would win overwhelmingly in every state (with the possible exception of Massachusetts.)
Actually, it's pretty easy to get used to it. Repeat after me: "January, February, March, April, May, June, July, Elvis, September, October..." It sounded natural, didn't it?
Now, let's try a few practical application tests. Try to say a few dates: "Elvis, the tenth... Wednesday, Elvis the eleventh... Today is Elvis twenty-first... Elvis thirtieth, two-thousand seven..." See, it flows pretty well.
Of course, it will take an act of Congress, or perhaps the individual acts of 50 state legislatures, to actually change the name of the month. But that shouldn't present too much of an obstacle. If Elvis fans throughout the land decide they want to change the name of the month, no Congressman in America would be safe from the public pressure.
So there you have it: My bold proposal for 2007.
King, wherever you are, I'm sorry I have neglected to ever write about you before. I hope this makes up for it.
--------------------------
Note from the publisher: Actually, I DID write about Elvis once before… This same column, in fact… ten years ago!!! But, since my “ Elvis” name-change idea didn’t catch on, I thought I’d give it another try. So I just dusted off the old column, updated it a bit and – PRESTO – our first summer re-run!!!! And, this time, it’ll be on the Internet! Maybe now it will catch on!!!!
Another note from the publisher: Happy Birthday, Mom! (Did you think I could write about Elvis and completely forget your birthday? Again?!!!)
--------------------------
You’re always welcome to let me know you agree, disagree, can’t make sense of, or simply don’t care about anything I’ve written here… or about any other topic that happens to be on your mind. You can email me directly at: RodShealy@aol.com.
And, if reading it once just wasn’t enough for you, read it again online – along with previous columns -- at my blog: www.doingthefirst.blogspot.com
How can anyone write newspaper columns for all those years and never mention The King? Especially if you write during the month of August!
August, you know, is right in the middle of what used to be referred to as Dog Days... those hot, listless days in the late summer when nothing much seems to happen. For reporters, Dog Days often meant going on some sort of witch hunt to find something to write about, because nothing newsworthy was ever happening.
But not any more. In the 30 years since the departure from this world of The King of Rock and Roll (or did he?), August has become Elvis is Dead Anniversary Month, and the media have had plenty to write about and broadcast. The media saturation has been perhaps a little heavier than usual this year, since this is the Thirtieth Anniversary (that's pearls if you're buying gifts) of the Unsolved Elvis Mystery.
It has occurred to me that this is not going to stop. It seems to me that Elvis-mania is only getting stronger each August, to the point that it now seems to dominate the airwaves.
Which is why I am offering this very bold proposal, that I believe will have great support throughout America: Let's just change the name of the month from "August" to "Elvis".
August, after all, was named after Augustus Caesar, who lived about 2,000 years ago. Like Elvis, he too was a king, or emperor, or whatever they had in Rome. (I don't know because, in the ninth grade, I chose to take Intro to Typing instead of Western Civilization.)
I imagine Augustus Caesar was very big in his day. They probably painted Velvet Augustus's, and I'm sure over-weight, middle-aged women with big hair and tears streaming through their caked-on, multi-colored makeup visited Cease-land every year after he was gone.
But, that, as they say, is "ancient history". He's like nowheresville today. He's had his millennium... actually two of 'em.
Now we're in a new millennium, and who says we can't do a little touch-up work to the calendar.
I'll bet if we put it on the next Election Day Ballot -- Elvis Presley versus Augustus Caesar, Elvis would win overwhelmingly in every state (with the possible exception of Massachusetts.)
Actually, it's pretty easy to get used to it. Repeat after me: "January, February, March, April, May, June, July, Elvis, September, October..." It sounded natural, didn't it?
Now, let's try a few practical application tests. Try to say a few dates: "Elvis, the tenth... Wednesday, Elvis the eleventh... Today is Elvis twenty-first... Elvis thirtieth, two-thousand seven..." See, it flows pretty well.
Of course, it will take an act of Congress, or perhaps the individual acts of 50 state legislatures, to actually change the name of the month. But that shouldn't present too much of an obstacle. If Elvis fans throughout the land decide they want to change the name of the month, no Congressman in America would be safe from the public pressure.
So there you have it: My bold proposal for 2007.
King, wherever you are, I'm sorry I have neglected to ever write about you before. I hope this makes up for it.
--------------------------
Note from the publisher: Actually, I DID write about Elvis once before… This same column, in fact… ten years ago!!! But, since my “ Elvis” name-change idea didn’t catch on, I thought I’d give it another try. So I just dusted off the old column, updated it a bit and – PRESTO – our first summer re-run!!!! And, this time, it’ll be on the Internet! Maybe now it will catch on!!!!
Another note from the publisher: Happy Birthday, Mom! (Did you think I could write about Elvis and completely forget your birthday? Again?!!!)
--------------------------
You’re always welcome to let me know you agree, disagree, can’t make sense of, or simply don’t care about anything I’ve written here… or about any other topic that happens to be on your mind. You can email me directly at: RodShealy@aol.com.
And, if reading it once just wasn’t enough for you, read it again online – along with previous columns -- at my blog: www.doingthefirst.blogspot.com
Monday, August 6, 2007
I’m a Hippo-Pig-Whale
It was at my recent Lexington High School Class of 1972 Reunion that I came to the stark realization I need to lose a few pounds. (A few, in this case, is 20 or 30… give or take 20 or 30.)
It came to me when I danced a few times during the reunion, and several of my classmates asked me how I did “the jiggle move”.
One thing worse than suffering though the hot, muggy, 100-plus degree days of August in the Heat-Lands of South Carolina is suffering through those same days as a big, fat, giant, hippo-pig-whale… which is precisely what I am currently doing. It’s hot and I’m over-weight. I’m large. I’m a truck. No… a house!
How over-weight am I?
I’m so over-weight, when I was trying to get a tan on the beach last month, a couple of kids tried to drag me back out to sea!
I’ve gotten so big, the Post Office is thinking about giving me my own zip code.
I’m so huge, when I sit around the house, I sit “around the house”. I stepped up on one of those new “talking” scales, and it said: “One at a time, please!” I wore a yellow raincoat, and somebody hollered out “Taxi!”
Here’s the bottom line: I really need to lose some weight.
Losing weight is a simple concept. Everybody knows how. It’s not difficult at all:
Diet and exercise!
Unfortunately, “knowing” and “doing” are two different matters. And frankly, diet and exercise are NOT two of my favorite things.
Strenuous exercise, to me, is walking up and down a flight of stairs every day. On big days, I also walk across the parking lot on the way into a grocery store.
And my diet is even worse. I like meat and taters. Always have, always will. I say a meal without starches is like a bird without feathers. (Ummmmmm… That makes me think of fried chicken! With mashed taters and thick white gravy. Yummy!)
Diet and exercise are not things which come naturally for me, which makes losing weight tough for me.
BUT!!!!! The good-ole All-American Spirit of COMPETITON is something which DOES sort of comes natural for me.
So, whenever I need to lose weight, there’s only one way to have a chance: A contest!
That’s why, last week, I announced that we would organize another weight-loss contest, beginning during August… just like the one we started back in January.
We’re looking for 10 to 20 thick-skinned individuals who don’t mind being subjected to the sort of bare-it-all-to-the-whole-world public humiliation I regularly inflict upon myself in this column. (When I say “thick-skinned”, I’m not merely referring to an extra layer of fat.)
This time, we’re adding a twist: We’re each chipping in $100 -- into the winner-take-all pot -- but half of the winnings will go to a charity designated in advance by each contestant. That way, we each have additional pressure – from our charity group -- to stick with the diet and exercise during the 13 week contest.
Of course, as soon as we kick it off, I’ll be publishing regular updates on our progress, yet another way of putting public pressure on each contestant.
And when it’s all over, I’ll write glowingly about the brilliant tactics, successful strategies, and unrelenting willpower of the eventual winner. (As long as it’s me.)
So far, here are the contestants:
Anchoring the contest along with me will be my business partner Kirk Luther and business associate and eldest offspring, Rod, Jr. Possibly back for return appearances from the January competition – we don’t know for sure, we’ll have to wait and see – are well-known locals like Rob Schoolmeester, Terry Campbell, Norman Agnew, and Bo McDonald.
New contestants who have already signed on to join the fun and misery for health and charity include Irmo Town Councilman and restaurateur Barry “Fatback” Walker; State Senator Jake Knotts, Lexington County Judge Bryan Jeffcoat, former Director of the SC Republican Party Scott Malyerck, and former SC Secretary of State Jim Miles.
Final rules are currently being hammered out by a crack team of legal negotiators, and the official judge for the contest is Lake Murray’s own Dr. Oscar Lovelace, MD, who earned the distinction last week when I ran in to him at a local eatery and he greeted me with a cheery, “Hi, Rod, you really need to lose some weight.”
We’re issuing an open invitation for this weight loss competition. Hopefully, we’ll have 20 or so contestants, meaning the winner and the charity can each walk away with a cool thousand!!!
If you want to join us in this weight loss contest, starting next week, email me at: RodShealy@aol.com.
It came to me when I danced a few times during the reunion, and several of my classmates asked me how I did “the jiggle move”.
One thing worse than suffering though the hot, muggy, 100-plus degree days of August in the Heat-Lands of South Carolina is suffering through those same days as a big, fat, giant, hippo-pig-whale… which is precisely what I am currently doing. It’s hot and I’m over-weight. I’m large. I’m a truck. No… a house!
How over-weight am I?
I’m so over-weight, when I was trying to get a tan on the beach last month, a couple of kids tried to drag me back out to sea!
I’ve gotten so big, the Post Office is thinking about giving me my own zip code.
I’m so huge, when I sit around the house, I sit “around the house”. I stepped up on one of those new “talking” scales, and it said: “One at a time, please!” I wore a yellow raincoat, and somebody hollered out “Taxi!”
Here’s the bottom line: I really need to lose some weight.
Losing weight is a simple concept. Everybody knows how. It’s not difficult at all:
Diet and exercise!
Unfortunately, “knowing” and “doing” are two different matters. And frankly, diet and exercise are NOT two of my favorite things.
Strenuous exercise, to me, is walking up and down a flight of stairs every day. On big days, I also walk across the parking lot on the way into a grocery store.
And my diet is even worse. I like meat and taters. Always have, always will. I say a meal without starches is like a bird without feathers. (Ummmmmm… That makes me think of fried chicken! With mashed taters and thick white gravy. Yummy!)
Diet and exercise are not things which come naturally for me, which makes losing weight tough for me.
BUT!!!!! The good-ole All-American Spirit of COMPETITON is something which DOES sort of comes natural for me.
So, whenever I need to lose weight, there’s only one way to have a chance: A contest!
That’s why, last week, I announced that we would organize another weight-loss contest, beginning during August… just like the one we started back in January.
We’re looking for 10 to 20 thick-skinned individuals who don’t mind being subjected to the sort of bare-it-all-to-the-whole-world public humiliation I regularly inflict upon myself in this column. (When I say “thick-skinned”, I’m not merely referring to an extra layer of fat.)
This time, we’re adding a twist: We’re each chipping in $100 -- into the winner-take-all pot -- but half of the winnings will go to a charity designated in advance by each contestant. That way, we each have additional pressure – from our charity group -- to stick with the diet and exercise during the 13 week contest.
Of course, as soon as we kick it off, I’ll be publishing regular updates on our progress, yet another way of putting public pressure on each contestant.
And when it’s all over, I’ll write glowingly about the brilliant tactics, successful strategies, and unrelenting willpower of the eventual winner. (As long as it’s me.)
So far, here are the contestants:
Anchoring the contest along with me will be my business partner Kirk Luther and business associate and eldest offspring, Rod, Jr. Possibly back for return appearances from the January competition – we don’t know for sure, we’ll have to wait and see – are well-known locals like Rob Schoolmeester, Terry Campbell, Norman Agnew, and Bo McDonald.
New contestants who have already signed on to join the fun and misery for health and charity include Irmo Town Councilman and restaurateur Barry “Fatback” Walker; State Senator Jake Knotts, Lexington County Judge Bryan Jeffcoat, former Director of the SC Republican Party Scott Malyerck, and former SC Secretary of State Jim Miles.
Final rules are currently being hammered out by a crack team of legal negotiators, and the official judge for the contest is Lake Murray’s own Dr. Oscar Lovelace, MD, who earned the distinction last week when I ran in to him at a local eatery and he greeted me with a cheery, “Hi, Rod, you really need to lose some weight.”
We’re issuing an open invitation for this weight loss competition. Hopefully, we’ll have 20 or so contestants, meaning the winner and the charity can each walk away with a cool thousand!!!
If you want to join us in this weight loss contest, starting next week, email me at: RodShealy@aol.com.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Reunion Reflections
Last week, I mentioned here that I was planning to attend the Lexington High School Class of 1972 Reunion, marking 35 years since graduation.
Well, last weekend, I DID attend that Class Reunion.
You could tell we were in the heart of the Palmetto State, the center of the Sandhills, and slap-dab in the middle of Lexington County from the vintage LexCo surnames represented -- Kyzer, Keisler, Taylor, Shull, Sharpe, Dooley, Drafts, Fulmer, Harmon, Mathias, Roland, and Wessinger – as well as the names of classmates who were missing, and thus became the topic of conversations for night -- Caughman, Corley, Amick, Addy, Wingard, Koon, Rawl, Hendrix, Price, Jeffcoat, Cromer, and Steele, to name a few.
For the record, there were three Shealys in attendance: Yours Truly; The Wife; and The BBQ Sauce.
That’s right… we had BBQ at our class reunion. What else would you expect from the LHS Class of ’72? And if we could have arranged it, we would’ve had sawdust on the floor. Frankly, we weren’t trying to impress anybody… we were just catching up with our old friends. It was wonderful.
Here are a few random observations I thought I would share from my five hour journey back to another time and place:
1. Who-ever dreamed up the name Baby Boomers should dream up a new name. The LHS Class of ’72 was born in the early to mid-1950’s – right in the middle of the baby boom – but there’s nothing “baby” about us anymore. We’re old. All of us.
Time for a new nickname.
2. Once a cheerleader, always a cheerleader. It’s in their blood… probably their DNA. They entertained us then, and they entertain us now. I wonder if anyone ever did a study to find out how cheerleaders fare in their adult life.
3. I have no idea who the next president will be. I’m now sure I have no idea, because approximately 25 of my classmates in a row chose this as a topic of conversation with me at the reunion. They seem to have some vague knowledge that I am involved in politics, so it seemed natural for them to bring it up. I mostly just said, “Who knows? Maybe a Democrat – Hillary, Obama, Edwards or Richardson – or maybe a Republican – Rudy, Thompson, Romney, or McCain,” and then let them talk while I listened. I learned a lot…. although, frankly, I would rather have been talking about our grandkids.
4. I have begun to forget a lot about high school. I can no longer remember exactly which teachers taught me which subjects, or whether I was even in their classes! None of us could remember exactly. But, ironically, when a few members of the 1971 Fighting Wildcat football team were talking, we were able to remember every play of every game…even the names of the players from opposing schools – just like it was yesterday.
5. The 35th year reunion is apparently not really a biggie. A lot of classmates skipped it. No matter. I’m pretty sure the rest of us are going to keep having them every five years regardless. The Class of ’72 always did enjoy a party.
6. I probably should start planning for my retirement. I know this, because a good many of my high school classmates have already retired. Yikes!
7. We had at least three career military guys in our class, who now appear on average to be ten years younger than the rest of us.
8. The music was better back then. We listened to the sounds of the late 60’s and early 70’s all night long, and it was better than the stuff they make now… even when you count KC and Sunshine Band in with the oldies.
9. One of our classmates, Eric Parris, traveled the farthest to attend the reunion -- from Maryland, where he is now a very successful businessman. He probably also had the greatest impact on our collective memories of our high school years, because he was the photographer for our high school year book.
10. It’s really all about the kids and grandkids now.
11. I guess it’s time for me to lose weight again: time for me to organize another weight-loss contest. I know, because I danced a few times during the reunion, and several of my classmates asked me how I did “the jiggle move”.
So, the sum total of my class reunion, when you boil it all down, is this:
It’s time to lose weight again.
If you want to join me in the next weight loss contest, starting in a couple of weeks, email me at: RodShealy@aol.com.
Well, last weekend, I DID attend that Class Reunion.
You could tell we were in the heart of the Palmetto State, the center of the Sandhills, and slap-dab in the middle of Lexington County from the vintage LexCo surnames represented -- Kyzer, Keisler, Taylor, Shull, Sharpe, Dooley, Drafts, Fulmer, Harmon, Mathias, Roland, and Wessinger – as well as the names of classmates who were missing, and thus became the topic of conversations for night -- Caughman, Corley, Amick, Addy, Wingard, Koon, Rawl, Hendrix, Price, Jeffcoat, Cromer, and Steele, to name a few.
For the record, there were three Shealys in attendance: Yours Truly; The Wife; and The BBQ Sauce.
That’s right… we had BBQ at our class reunion. What else would you expect from the LHS Class of ’72? And if we could have arranged it, we would’ve had sawdust on the floor. Frankly, we weren’t trying to impress anybody… we were just catching up with our old friends. It was wonderful.
Here are a few random observations I thought I would share from my five hour journey back to another time and place:
1. Who-ever dreamed up the name Baby Boomers should dream up a new name. The LHS Class of ’72 was born in the early to mid-1950’s – right in the middle of the baby boom – but there’s nothing “baby” about us anymore. We’re old. All of us.
Time for a new nickname.
2. Once a cheerleader, always a cheerleader. It’s in their blood… probably their DNA. They entertained us then, and they entertain us now. I wonder if anyone ever did a study to find out how cheerleaders fare in their adult life.
3. I have no idea who the next president will be. I’m now sure I have no idea, because approximately 25 of my classmates in a row chose this as a topic of conversation with me at the reunion. They seem to have some vague knowledge that I am involved in politics, so it seemed natural for them to bring it up. I mostly just said, “Who knows? Maybe a Democrat – Hillary, Obama, Edwards or Richardson – or maybe a Republican – Rudy, Thompson, Romney, or McCain,” and then let them talk while I listened. I learned a lot…. although, frankly, I would rather have been talking about our grandkids.
4. I have begun to forget a lot about high school. I can no longer remember exactly which teachers taught me which subjects, or whether I was even in their classes! None of us could remember exactly. But, ironically, when a few members of the 1971 Fighting Wildcat football team were talking, we were able to remember every play of every game…even the names of the players from opposing schools – just like it was yesterday.
5. The 35th year reunion is apparently not really a biggie. A lot of classmates skipped it. No matter. I’m pretty sure the rest of us are going to keep having them every five years regardless. The Class of ’72 always did enjoy a party.
6. I probably should start planning for my retirement. I know this, because a good many of my high school classmates have already retired. Yikes!
7. We had at least three career military guys in our class, who now appear on average to be ten years younger than the rest of us.
8. The music was better back then. We listened to the sounds of the late 60’s and early 70’s all night long, and it was better than the stuff they make now… even when you count KC and Sunshine Band in with the oldies.
9. One of our classmates, Eric Parris, traveled the farthest to attend the reunion -- from Maryland, where he is now a very successful businessman. He probably also had the greatest impact on our collective memories of our high school years, because he was the photographer for our high school year book.
10. It’s really all about the kids and grandkids now.
11. I guess it’s time for me to lose weight again: time for me to organize another weight-loss contest. I know, because I danced a few times during the reunion, and several of my classmates asked me how I did “the jiggle move”.
So, the sum total of my class reunion, when you boil it all down, is this:
It’s time to lose weight again.
If you want to join me in the next weight loss contest, starting in a couple of weeks, email me at: RodShealy@aol.com.
Monday, July 23, 2007
The Class of ’72 Reunion
This weekend, I’ll be attending the Lexington High School Class of 1972 Reunion, marking 35 years since graduation.
Let me do the math on that for you: We’re all in our early-to-mid 50’s, and we were born in the early-to-mid 50’s. We were right in the middle of the Baby Boom.
We entered the first grade in 1960 – still in the era of Leave It To Beaver – and within a few months, heard the news that Alan Sheppard had become the America’s first astronaut to travel into space.
During the last few months, as I’ve been helping to plan this reunion with a few of my classmates, we’ve done a lot of traveling down memory lane.
(Actually, we spent longer than a few months planning… we spent a few YEARS!!! After the last reunion, we decided that the planning meetings a few times a year had been just as much fun as the event… so we kept having them! Deborah Anne, Raynell, Julian, Bryan, Kathy, Wanda, and I just meet for lunch occasionally and call it a “reunion planning meeting”. The seven of us, incidentally, represent approximately 5% of the total membership of the Lexington High School Class of ’72.)
Most of the remaining memories seem to be of high school. The earlier ones have faded into the sunset for the most part. But there are a few scattered memories from those twelve glorious years when we just didn’t realize how good things were for us. Here are just a few from the early years:
Football games. It didn’t get any better than high school football games on a Friday night… especially when I was still too young to be in high school. An excited sea of humanity descended on the old football stadium, behind what used to be Hite’s Restaurant, next to what used to be the water tower. The cheerleaders. The band. The fans. The colors. The cool autumn air. The Wildcats were the bomb. (But we didn’t use phrases like “the bomb” back then.)
The school bus. A whole new educational experience. This was the chance to mingle with students of all grades. When you were young, you got picked on; when you got older, you tried not to ride the bus.
The visual aid room. At Lexington Elementary, it was sort of a basement dungeon. But it was dark, and movies worked there. We loved to go to the visual aid room. What could be better than watching a movie at school.
Piano lessons. Five years of lessons down the drain. I can’t even play a scale. I didn’t have the patience to practice.
Homework. Ditto the piano lessons. Never really had the patience.
Town children. They lived close to the school, so they didn’t ride the bus. They were always excused a good while before the rest of the class. I thought they were cool.
The first grade. I was in Mrs. Hook’s class, along with about 25 others who would become my best friends for the next twelve years, and maybe forever. We used flash cards to learn our letters… plus there were big charts all around the room. A typical homework assignment was to bring back a picture of anything that started with the letter “J”. Life was good.
The loud speaker. It was in front of the room on the wall. Several times a day, important announcements would crackle over it.
School lunch. I was a picky eater. I always gave my little carton of milk away to someone else.
The principal’s office. I heard stories about it… but you certainly didn’t want to go there. Occasionally, some student would be summoned to it over the loudspeaker. It always made me worry for that student.
Changing classes. We started in the sixth grade. That’s when we knew we were really moving on up the educational ladder.
The fifth grade. I had to miss a few weeks of school with an appendectomy. I was hospitalized, and Mrs. George made every student in the class write me a letter. Fifth grade letters are a hoot, it turns out.
I saved those letters in a pouch for over 20 years, and then accidentally lost them during a move. But for 20 years, they were among my most treasured possessions.
I don’t have the letters any longer, but this weekend, I’ll get to visit with their authors. I’ll probably have new stories to report next week.
Let me do the math on that for you: We’re all in our early-to-mid 50’s, and we were born in the early-to-mid 50’s. We were right in the middle of the Baby Boom.
We entered the first grade in 1960 – still in the era of Leave It To Beaver – and within a few months, heard the news that Alan Sheppard had become the America’s first astronaut to travel into space.
During the last few months, as I’ve been helping to plan this reunion with a few of my classmates, we’ve done a lot of traveling down memory lane.
(Actually, we spent longer than a few months planning… we spent a few YEARS!!! After the last reunion, we decided that the planning meetings a few times a year had been just as much fun as the event… so we kept having them! Deborah Anne, Raynell, Julian, Bryan, Kathy, Wanda, and I just meet for lunch occasionally and call it a “reunion planning meeting”. The seven of us, incidentally, represent approximately 5% of the total membership of the Lexington High School Class of ’72.)
Most of the remaining memories seem to be of high school. The earlier ones have faded into the sunset for the most part. But there are a few scattered memories from those twelve glorious years when we just didn’t realize how good things were for us. Here are just a few from the early years:
Football games. It didn’t get any better than high school football games on a Friday night… especially when I was still too young to be in high school. An excited sea of humanity descended on the old football stadium, behind what used to be Hite’s Restaurant, next to what used to be the water tower. The cheerleaders. The band. The fans. The colors. The cool autumn air. The Wildcats were the bomb. (But we didn’t use phrases like “the bomb” back then.)
The school bus. A whole new educational experience. This was the chance to mingle with students of all grades. When you were young, you got picked on; when you got older, you tried not to ride the bus.
The visual aid room. At Lexington Elementary, it was sort of a basement dungeon. But it was dark, and movies worked there. We loved to go to the visual aid room. What could be better than watching a movie at school.
Piano lessons. Five years of lessons down the drain. I can’t even play a scale. I didn’t have the patience to practice.
Homework. Ditto the piano lessons. Never really had the patience.
Town children. They lived close to the school, so they didn’t ride the bus. They were always excused a good while before the rest of the class. I thought they were cool.
The first grade. I was in Mrs. Hook’s class, along with about 25 others who would become my best friends for the next twelve years, and maybe forever. We used flash cards to learn our letters… plus there were big charts all around the room. A typical homework assignment was to bring back a picture of anything that started with the letter “J”. Life was good.
The loud speaker. It was in front of the room on the wall. Several times a day, important announcements would crackle over it.
School lunch. I was a picky eater. I always gave my little carton of milk away to someone else.
The principal’s office. I heard stories about it… but you certainly didn’t want to go there. Occasionally, some student would be summoned to it over the loudspeaker. It always made me worry for that student.
Changing classes. We started in the sixth grade. That’s when we knew we were really moving on up the educational ladder.
The fifth grade. I had to miss a few weeks of school with an appendectomy. I was hospitalized, and Mrs. George made every student in the class write me a letter. Fifth grade letters are a hoot, it turns out.
I saved those letters in a pouch for over 20 years, and then accidentally lost them during a move. But for 20 years, they were among my most treasured possessions.
I don’t have the letters any longer, but this weekend, I’ll get to visit with their authors. I’ll probably have new stories to report next week.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Dog Days
It occurred to me a few days ago that we are now officially slap-dab in the middle of Dog Days, 2007.
Dog Days, you may know, is that ill-defined period in the middle of summertime when things seem to get… well… a little sluggish. The dictionaries actually use words like hot, muggy, lethargic, sultry, indolence, and stagnation. The dictionaries also say the period earned its name through some connection to Sirius, the Dog Star. I always thought Dog Days just meant it was so hot outside, that folk just laid around all day like dogs.
In modern-America, Dog Days is marked by the lack of news in the news media.
We live in the ultra-information age, when news stories change hourly and are flashed around the globe instantaneously. There are now five entire cable TV networks devoted to bringing us hourly news updates… and its BAD news for them if nothing’s really happening.
But, fact of the matter is, nothing much DOES happen during mid summer. Schools and colleges are out for summer. The state legislatures are not in session. Congress is winding down to their annual summer break. The new fiscal year has started, so all state and local government budgets have been decided, and taxes assessed accordingly. And most of the people who run the public agencies and quasi-public organizations which manufacture what we call news are taking many weeks of vacation time.
In short, nothing’s happening.
I was reminded of this last week when I got a call from a reporter with one of the state’s largest daily newspapers who asked me about the future plans of one of the elected officials I advise. I told the reporter, in effect, “sorry, there are no future plans at this time”. A day later, another reporter from another large daily paper. Again, I told him “no plans”. Interestingly, both newspaper carried my “no future plans” comments as news.
I guess it’s tough being in the “real news” business when there isn’t any news.
Fortunately, I’m not in the “real news” business: I just write this column about whatever happens to be on my mind each week.
Unfortunately, since we’re in the middle of the most sluggish, muggy, lethargic, stagnant time of the year, nothing new came to my mind this week; however, there is something I read on the internet a few months ago I though was good enough to pass along, so I’ll pass it along now. It’s called:
36 Things You Probably Didn’t Know--
"Stewardesses" is the longest word typed with only the left hand and "lollipop" with your right.
Maine is the only state whose name is just one syllable.
No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver, or purple.
"Dreamt" is the only English word that ends in the letters "mt".
Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing.
The sentence: "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" uses every letter of the alphabet.
The words 'racecar,' 'kayak' and 'level' are the same whether they are read left to right or right to left (palindromes).
Only four words in the English language end in "dous": tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.
Two words in the English language have all five vowels in order: "abstemious" and "facetious."
TYPEWRITER is the longest word that can be made using the letters only on one row of the keyboard.
All 50 states are listed across the top of the Lincoln Memorial on the back of the $5 bill.
A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.
A cat has 32 muscles in each ear.
A goldfish has a memory span of three seconds.
A "jiffy" is an actual unit of time for 1/100th of a second.
A shark is the only fish that can blink with both eyes.
A snail can sleep for three years.
Al Capone's business card said he was a used furniture dealer.
Almonds are a member of the peach family.
An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.
Babies are born without kneecaps. They don't appear until the child reaches 2 to 6 years of age.
February 1865 is the only month in recorded history not to have a full moon.
In the last 4,000 years, no new animals have been domesticated.
If the population of China walked past you, 8 abreast, the line would never end because of the rate of reproduction.
If you are an average American, in your whole life, you will spend an average of 6 months waiting at red lights.
Leonardo Da Vinci invented the scissors.
On a Canadian two dollar bill, the flag flying over the Parliament building is an American flag.
Peanuts are one of the ingredients of dynamite!
Rubber bands last longer when refrigerated.
The average person's left hand does 56% of the typing.
The cruise liner, QE2, moves only six inches for each gallon of diesel that it burns.
The microwave was invented after a researcher walked by a radar tube and a chocolate bar melted in his pocket.
The winter of 1932 was so cold that Niagara Falls froze completely solid.
More chickens than people are in the world.
Winston Churchill was born in a ladies' room during a dance.
Women blink nearly twice as much as men.
Actually, I have no idea whether these things are true or not. I just found them on the internet. But they sound true to me. Maybe you can check into them for me. It’ll give you something to do during the rest of Dog Days.
Dog Days, you may know, is that ill-defined period in the middle of summertime when things seem to get… well… a little sluggish. The dictionaries actually use words like hot, muggy, lethargic, sultry, indolence, and stagnation. The dictionaries also say the period earned its name through some connection to Sirius, the Dog Star. I always thought Dog Days just meant it was so hot outside, that folk just laid around all day like dogs.
In modern-America, Dog Days is marked by the lack of news in the news media.
We live in the ultra-information age, when news stories change hourly and are flashed around the globe instantaneously. There are now five entire cable TV networks devoted to bringing us hourly news updates… and its BAD news for them if nothing’s really happening.
But, fact of the matter is, nothing much DOES happen during mid summer. Schools and colleges are out for summer. The state legislatures are not in session. Congress is winding down to their annual summer break. The new fiscal year has started, so all state and local government budgets have been decided, and taxes assessed accordingly. And most of the people who run the public agencies and quasi-public organizations which manufacture what we call news are taking many weeks of vacation time.
In short, nothing’s happening.
I was reminded of this last week when I got a call from a reporter with one of the state’s largest daily newspapers who asked me about the future plans of one of the elected officials I advise. I told the reporter, in effect, “sorry, there are no future plans at this time”. A day later, another reporter from another large daily paper. Again, I told him “no plans”. Interestingly, both newspaper carried my “no future plans” comments as news.
I guess it’s tough being in the “real news” business when there isn’t any news.
Fortunately, I’m not in the “real news” business: I just write this column about whatever happens to be on my mind each week.
Unfortunately, since we’re in the middle of the most sluggish, muggy, lethargic, stagnant time of the year, nothing new came to my mind this week; however, there is something I read on the internet a few months ago I though was good enough to pass along, so I’ll pass it along now. It’s called:
36 Things You Probably Didn’t Know--
"Stewardesses" is the longest word typed with only the left hand and "lollipop" with your right.
Maine is the only state whose name is just one syllable.
No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver, or purple.
"Dreamt" is the only English word that ends in the letters "mt".
Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing.
The sentence: "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" uses every letter of the alphabet.
The words 'racecar,' 'kayak' and 'level' are the same whether they are read left to right or right to left (palindromes).
Only four words in the English language end in "dous": tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.
Two words in the English language have all five vowels in order: "abstemious" and "facetious."
TYPEWRITER is the longest word that can be made using the letters only on one row of the keyboard.
All 50 states are listed across the top of the Lincoln Memorial on the back of the $5 bill.
A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.
A cat has 32 muscles in each ear.
A goldfish has a memory span of three seconds.
A "jiffy" is an actual unit of time for 1/100th of a second.
A shark is the only fish that can blink with both eyes.
A snail can sleep for three years.
Al Capone's business card said he was a used furniture dealer.
Almonds are a member of the peach family.
An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.
Babies are born without kneecaps. They don't appear until the child reaches 2 to 6 years of age.
February 1865 is the only month in recorded history not to have a full moon.
In the last 4,000 years, no new animals have been domesticated.
If the population of China walked past you, 8 abreast, the line would never end because of the rate of reproduction.
If you are an average American, in your whole life, you will spend an average of 6 months waiting at red lights.
Leonardo Da Vinci invented the scissors.
On a Canadian two dollar bill, the flag flying over the Parliament building is an American flag.
Peanuts are one of the ingredients of dynamite!
Rubber bands last longer when refrigerated.
The average person's left hand does 56% of the typing.
The cruise liner, QE2, moves only six inches for each gallon of diesel that it burns.
The microwave was invented after a researcher walked by a radar tube and a chocolate bar melted in his pocket.
The winter of 1932 was so cold that Niagara Falls froze completely solid.
More chickens than people are in the world.
Winston Churchill was born in a ladies' room during a dance.
Women blink nearly twice as much as men.
Actually, I have no idea whether these things are true or not. I just found them on the internet. But they sound true to me. Maybe you can check into them for me. It’ll give you something to do during the rest of Dog Days.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Rolling Down the River
Earlier this year, the business of politics took me to one of my favorite places in the Palmetto State, the coastal town of Beaufort.
Over the years, I’ve spent a fair amount of leisure time in that fair city, usually during their annual Water Festival. The Water Festival, it turns out, brings together two of my favorite things: water and festing.
During my most recent journey to Beaufort, I noticed that preparations were already underway for this year’s H2O Fest, and it brought to mind my most memorable trip to that event – eleven years ago this month – when we made the trip on water skis.
“We” were my younger brother, Shawn, a well-known computer guru now living in Northeast Columbia; my close friend Joe Agnew, the Lake Murray dock-building legend who first brought The Southern Patriot tour boat to the Midlands of SC; and myself – yours truly – an aging, out-of-shape, overweight geezer who could have made a lot of money taking bets on whether or not I could actually water-ski 162 miles in a day.
Actually, this tale began back in 1959, when my dad, Ryan Shealy, was a member of the S.C. House of Representatives from Lexington County. At that time, some of the 1950’s economic development types were discussing whether or not the Congaree River could be made navigable for commercial purposes, allowing Columbia to become an inland port. Dad was a member of the legislative study committee considering the proposal, and he took it upon himself to help demonstrate for certain that the riverways from Charleston to Columbia were in fact navigable: In August, 1959, he made the162-mile river trip from Columbia to Charleston on a pair of skis. Understandably, the wire services picked up the story: Legislator Waterskis 162 Miles.
Fast-forward to the mid-90’s, when his oldest son was on a leisurely, weekend boat trip down the river with friends, when the subject of the decades-old ski-trip came up.
Maybe it was the sun and the heat. Maybe it was the distraction of the river scenery. Possibly someone had even spiked my lemonade. To this day, I don’t know what caused it… but, almost as in an out-of-body, dream-like state, I heard the words “I could do that” come out of my mouth!
And just like that, plans were being made for a water-ski adventure the following year. Never mind the fact that I had not actually water-skiied a single time since a high-school football knee injury 25 years earlier.
In late-March, 1996, I entered the frigid waters of Lake Murray to waterski for the first time in a quarter of a century. Remarkably, I stayed up for almost 5 minutes… and thought I was going to die! I couldn’t breathe at the end, and could hardly move the next day. “Never again,” I said to myself, marveling that I had entertained such a ludicrous idea over the winter months.
But the following week, I tried again, and made it 10 minutes… and then 18 minutes a week later. Before long, summertime had arrived, and I was skiing an hour or two every Saturday morning.
By this time, brother Shawn and Joe Agnew had joined me, and the planned trip had actually become a charity fundraiser for our local Chapin Optimist Club. Shawn and I would take the first leg, from Granby Landing in Cayce to Charleston Harbor, and Joe would ski the following day from Charleston to Beaufort via the Intercoastal Waterway.
At 7:00 am on a Thursday morning in July, we put two boats in the water and headed for the Beaufort Water Festival. Seven-and-a-half hours, 162-miles, five no-wake zones, one gas stop, and a few mishaps later, we made it to Charleston. The next day, Joe skied the rest of the way to Beaufort, while I took it easy in the boat.
Friday afternoon, we pulled into the marina in the middle of the Beaufort Water Festival. They sent a photographer from the local paper to snap a picture. (The Thursday trip – Columbia to Charleston – had actually been documented by Columbia TV station WOLO, which sent two camera crews with us on the trip. Later, the trip would be written up in WaterSki Magazine, a national publication which apparently covers all aspects of the sport, regardless of the blatant lack of athleticism which might be displayed by a participant.)
I guess, once again, it has now been six or eight years since I’ve even had a pair of water skis on. (I DID try snow-skiing for the first time back in 2002, figuring that if I can water-ski 162 miles, certainly I can make it down a hill in the snow. WRONG! On a record-setting cold day in West Virginia, I DEFINITELY made my first and last trip down a hill on snow skis!)
And, though I doubt I’ll be waterskiing down to Beaufort ever again, I do hope to make it to the Water Festival again. And you should, too. For information on the Beaufort Water Festival, visit: bftwaterfestival.com. (You won’t find it on their official schedule, but I recommend just hanging out on the sandbar on Sunday afternoon.)
Over the years, I’ve spent a fair amount of leisure time in that fair city, usually during their annual Water Festival. The Water Festival, it turns out, brings together two of my favorite things: water and festing.
During my most recent journey to Beaufort, I noticed that preparations were already underway for this year’s H2O Fest, and it brought to mind my most memorable trip to that event – eleven years ago this month – when we made the trip on water skis.
“We” were my younger brother, Shawn, a well-known computer guru now living in Northeast Columbia; my close friend Joe Agnew, the Lake Murray dock-building legend who first brought The Southern Patriot tour boat to the Midlands of SC; and myself – yours truly – an aging, out-of-shape, overweight geezer who could have made a lot of money taking bets on whether or not I could actually water-ski 162 miles in a day.
Actually, this tale began back in 1959, when my dad, Ryan Shealy, was a member of the S.C. House of Representatives from Lexington County. At that time, some of the 1950’s economic development types were discussing whether or not the Congaree River could be made navigable for commercial purposes, allowing Columbia to become an inland port. Dad was a member of the legislative study committee considering the proposal, and he took it upon himself to help demonstrate for certain that the riverways from Charleston to Columbia were in fact navigable: In August, 1959, he made the162-mile river trip from Columbia to Charleston on a pair of skis. Understandably, the wire services picked up the story: Legislator Waterskis 162 Miles.
Fast-forward to the mid-90’s, when his oldest son was on a leisurely, weekend boat trip down the river with friends, when the subject of the decades-old ski-trip came up.
Maybe it was the sun and the heat. Maybe it was the distraction of the river scenery. Possibly someone had even spiked my lemonade. To this day, I don’t know what caused it… but, almost as in an out-of-body, dream-like state, I heard the words “I could do that” come out of my mouth!
And just like that, plans were being made for a water-ski adventure the following year. Never mind the fact that I had not actually water-skiied a single time since a high-school football knee injury 25 years earlier.
In late-March, 1996, I entered the frigid waters of Lake Murray to waterski for the first time in a quarter of a century. Remarkably, I stayed up for almost 5 minutes… and thought I was going to die! I couldn’t breathe at the end, and could hardly move the next day. “Never again,” I said to myself, marveling that I had entertained such a ludicrous idea over the winter months.
But the following week, I tried again, and made it 10 minutes… and then 18 minutes a week later. Before long, summertime had arrived, and I was skiing an hour or two every Saturday morning.
By this time, brother Shawn and Joe Agnew had joined me, and the planned trip had actually become a charity fundraiser for our local Chapin Optimist Club. Shawn and I would take the first leg, from Granby Landing in Cayce to Charleston Harbor, and Joe would ski the following day from Charleston to Beaufort via the Intercoastal Waterway.
At 7:00 am on a Thursday morning in July, we put two boats in the water and headed for the Beaufort Water Festival. Seven-and-a-half hours, 162-miles, five no-wake zones, one gas stop, and a few mishaps later, we made it to Charleston. The next day, Joe skied the rest of the way to Beaufort, while I took it easy in the boat.
Friday afternoon, we pulled into the marina in the middle of the Beaufort Water Festival. They sent a photographer from the local paper to snap a picture. (The Thursday trip – Columbia to Charleston – had actually been documented by Columbia TV station WOLO, which sent two camera crews with us on the trip. Later, the trip would be written up in WaterSki Magazine, a national publication which apparently covers all aspects of the sport, regardless of the blatant lack of athleticism which might be displayed by a participant.)
I guess, once again, it has now been six or eight years since I’ve even had a pair of water skis on. (I DID try snow-skiing for the first time back in 2002, figuring that if I can water-ski 162 miles, certainly I can make it down a hill in the snow. WRONG! On a record-setting cold day in West Virginia, I DEFINITELY made my first and last trip down a hill on snow skis!)
And, though I doubt I’ll be waterskiing down to Beaufort ever again, I do hope to make it to the Water Festival again. And you should, too. For information on the Beaufort Water Festival, visit: bftwaterfestival.com. (You won’t find it on their official schedule, but I recommend just hanging out on the sandbar on Sunday afternoon.)
Monday, July 2, 2007
My Friend Jakie
Let me start by mentioning up front that Jake Knotts is a friend of mine. I’ve occasionally assisted him with his political battles over the years, and, I can tell you, in the entire spectrum of South Carolina politics, there is nobody that I would rather have in my foxhole than the Senator from Lexington County.
Still, I recognize that he is a polarizing figure to many. Some love him, some hate him. It goes with the territory.
In politics, we learn that many of our greatest leaders were simultaneously beloved and hated: Those who set out to accomplish great things make “enemies” along the way. Reagan and Kennedy both come to mind. Our system of government allows for opposing views to be a part of the same process. Anytime someone of a particular view succeeds in advancing his cause, you can be sure there are opponents who are unhappy with that success.
So, like every other outspoken elected official, Jake Knotts has his critics. But, love him or hate him, you have to admire his straight-talking, get-it-done attitude when it comes to taking care of “the people”.
Last week, Jake (or “Jakie” as friends still prefer to call him) put that attitude into action. “The people” had a problem, and Jake set out to solve it.
“The people”, in this instance, were the families of our soldiers from the 132nd MP Company, based out of the National Guard Armory on Platt Springs Road in West Columbia. Platt Springs Road happens to run through the heart of Jakie’s Senate District.
That unit had recently been deployed for active duty, and had spent the last few weeks in Mississippi training before being shipped to Iraq. Prior to heading overseas, the fighting men and women were being given a four-day pass… a final chance for R&R before heading into battle. But there was a catch: the four-day pass had a stipulation that allowed the soldiers to travel no farther than 150 miles from the Mississippi base. It was far enough to get them to Atlanta, but not far enough to get them home to their families.
It didn’t seem fair. Their final days before heading into a battle-zone from which some might not return should be an opportunity to be with family, many believed. But it’s the military, and in the military, you follow your orders without asking questions.
Family members, however, can ask all the questions they wish… and in this instance, many of them turned to Senator Jake Knotts. Never mind the obvious dilemma that a State Senator has ZERO impact on the United States Armed Forces.
The people needed an advocate: They called Jakie.
And when Jakie gets a call from a constituent that needs help, he doesn’t rest until he’s done everything possible to get them that help.
In this instance, he started with the office of the South Carolina’s Adjutant General, who leads the Guard in our state, finally reaching General Stan Spears… only to be informed that these Guardsmen were on active duty and now under the jurisdiction of the U.S. Army, not the Guard. Spears was helpless to assist in this instance.
Undeterred, Jakie turned his attention to the Army. Working up the chain of command, he finally determined that these forces were under the command of Lt. General Russell L. Honore, apparently the only person who could remedy the situation. Using his unique powers of persuasion, Knotts located the General Honore in the War Zone. Eventually, after exhausting the power supply of multiple cell-phones, and going through a chain of multiple military phone operators and dispatchers, Knotts found the General.
Understandably impressed with Knotts’ perseverance, the General listened to his plea for help. Fortunately, he agreed that the soldiers’ final days in America should give them a chance to be with family. From the middle of a war-zone, he certainly understood that some of them might never return.
Equally fortunate, Honore shared Knotts’ straight-talking, get-it-done attitude. Known as “The Ragin’ Cajun”, Lousiana-born Honore was once described by CNN as a “John Wayne dude” who “gets some stuff done.”
“Consider it done,” he told Knotts. Within hours, Knotts got a call from another of the U.S. Army’s top generals, Major General Jay Hood, informing him that the orders had been changed, the 4-day pass would now be a 6-day pass, and the soldiers would be allowed to return to South Carolina during that time.
Knotts thanked General Hood, and went to work arranging needed transportation to bring our soldiers home and back.
For Knotts, its all in a days work. Part of his job, he believes, is taking care of the people he was elected to serve. And he’s quick to tell you that the 166 fighting men and women who are risking their lives to protect us are the heroes.
If you’re one of the people who “hate” Jake Knotts, you’re free to go on hating him. For that matter, if you want to “hate” me because I count him as an ally, that’s okay, too.
But, agree or disagree on the other issues of the day, never let it be said that Jakie doesn’t give his best to serve the people who need his help. And on this day, he made a real difference for 166 families who are making a difference for America.
Still, I recognize that he is a polarizing figure to many. Some love him, some hate him. It goes with the territory.
In politics, we learn that many of our greatest leaders were simultaneously beloved and hated: Those who set out to accomplish great things make “enemies” along the way. Reagan and Kennedy both come to mind. Our system of government allows for opposing views to be a part of the same process. Anytime someone of a particular view succeeds in advancing his cause, you can be sure there are opponents who are unhappy with that success.
So, like every other outspoken elected official, Jake Knotts has his critics. But, love him or hate him, you have to admire his straight-talking, get-it-done attitude when it comes to taking care of “the people”.
Last week, Jake (or “Jakie” as friends still prefer to call him) put that attitude into action. “The people” had a problem, and Jake set out to solve it.
“The people”, in this instance, were the families of our soldiers from the 132nd MP Company, based out of the National Guard Armory on Platt Springs Road in West Columbia. Platt Springs Road happens to run through the heart of Jakie’s Senate District.
That unit had recently been deployed for active duty, and had spent the last few weeks in Mississippi training before being shipped to Iraq. Prior to heading overseas, the fighting men and women were being given a four-day pass… a final chance for R&R before heading into battle. But there was a catch: the four-day pass had a stipulation that allowed the soldiers to travel no farther than 150 miles from the Mississippi base. It was far enough to get them to Atlanta, but not far enough to get them home to their families.
It didn’t seem fair. Their final days before heading into a battle-zone from which some might not return should be an opportunity to be with family, many believed. But it’s the military, and in the military, you follow your orders without asking questions.
Family members, however, can ask all the questions they wish… and in this instance, many of them turned to Senator Jake Knotts. Never mind the obvious dilemma that a State Senator has ZERO impact on the United States Armed Forces.
The people needed an advocate: They called Jakie.
And when Jakie gets a call from a constituent that needs help, he doesn’t rest until he’s done everything possible to get them that help.
In this instance, he started with the office of the South Carolina’s Adjutant General, who leads the Guard in our state, finally reaching General Stan Spears… only to be informed that these Guardsmen were on active duty and now under the jurisdiction of the U.S. Army, not the Guard. Spears was helpless to assist in this instance.
Undeterred, Jakie turned his attention to the Army. Working up the chain of command, he finally determined that these forces were under the command of Lt. General Russell L. Honore, apparently the only person who could remedy the situation. Using his unique powers of persuasion, Knotts located the General Honore in the War Zone. Eventually, after exhausting the power supply of multiple cell-phones, and going through a chain of multiple military phone operators and dispatchers, Knotts found the General.
Understandably impressed with Knotts’ perseverance, the General listened to his plea for help. Fortunately, he agreed that the soldiers’ final days in America should give them a chance to be with family. From the middle of a war-zone, he certainly understood that some of them might never return.
Equally fortunate, Honore shared Knotts’ straight-talking, get-it-done attitude. Known as “The Ragin’ Cajun”, Lousiana-born Honore was once described by CNN as a “John Wayne dude” who “gets some stuff done.”
“Consider it done,” he told Knotts. Within hours, Knotts got a call from another of the U.S. Army’s top generals, Major General Jay Hood, informing him that the orders had been changed, the 4-day pass would now be a 6-day pass, and the soldiers would be allowed to return to South Carolina during that time.
Knotts thanked General Hood, and went to work arranging needed transportation to bring our soldiers home and back.
For Knotts, its all in a days work. Part of his job, he believes, is taking care of the people he was elected to serve. And he’s quick to tell you that the 166 fighting men and women who are risking their lives to protect us are the heroes.
If you’re one of the people who “hate” Jake Knotts, you’re free to go on hating him. For that matter, if you want to “hate” me because I count him as an ally, that’s okay, too.
But, agree or disagree on the other issues of the day, never let it be said that Jakie doesn’t give his best to serve the people who need his help. And on this day, he made a real difference for 166 families who are making a difference for America.
Monday, June 25, 2007
The Ideals of America
"When in the course of Human Events…"
So begins the Declaration of Independence, the document which declared the creation of the United States of America, the signing of which on July 4th, 1776, is the date we celebrate as our national holiday of patriotism.
It’s no accident, I think, that our national day of celebration commemorates a document, rather than the end or beginning of any battle or war, or any military victory, or any national incident. To be sure, there are many other dates which will, indeed, live in infamy or be cause for perpetual celebration. But the single day we have chosen to celebrate Americanism is the day the ideas on which our nation was created were signed into effect with a single declaration.
We celebrate words -- not battles, not royal bloodlines, not military might -- because words convey ideas... and America is a nation founded on a set of ideas: freedom, liberty, justice, equality, and opportunity. These ideas, represented by written words, created the foundation on which our way of life has been built.
Because our American Way of Life is built on a set of ideas/ideals, and because I’m pretty sure we ALL take these ideals pretty much for granted on a daily basis – and it would probably be a good thing if we reminded ourselves of them from time to time -- I thought I would commemorate this July 4th by offering a bit of a quiz on some of the Words of Patriotism we have come to cherish.
Below, I’ve listed twelve patriotic phrases. Your job is to identify where each phrase comes from. These correct answers are at the end.
Here we go…
Patriotic Phrase #1: “We the people of the United States….”
Patriotic Phrase #2: “The land of the free, and the home of the brave”.
Patriotic Phrase #3: “WE hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness”
Patriotic Phrase #4: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free….”
Patriotic Phrase #5: “One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all”.
Patriotic Phrase #6: “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof.”
Patriotic Phrase #7: “Crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea”.
Patriotic Phrase #8: “ … no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances”.
Patriotic Phrase #9: “Stand beside her and guide her through the night with the light from above.”
Patriotic Phrase #10: “We mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor”.
Patriotic Phrase #11: “A new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal”.
Patriotic Phrase #12: “Secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity”.
How did you do?
Here are the answers: 1. Preamble of the Constitution; 2. The National Anthem (The Star Spangled Banner); 3. The Declaration of Independence; 4. Inscription of the Statue of Liberty; 5. The Pledge of Allegiance; 6. Inscription of the Liberty Bell (we would also accept Leviticus 25:10); 7. America, the Beautiful; 8. The First Amendment (or The Bill of Rights); 9. God Bless America; 10. The Declaration of Independence, again! 11. Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address; 12. Preamble of the Constitution, again.
Hope you have a safe and happy Independence Day. And as we all celebrate freedom, let’s please keep our fighting men and women in our thoughts and prayers. God Bless America.
So begins the Declaration of Independence, the document which declared the creation of the United States of America, the signing of which on July 4th, 1776, is the date we celebrate as our national holiday of patriotism.
It’s no accident, I think, that our national day of celebration commemorates a document, rather than the end or beginning of any battle or war, or any military victory, or any national incident. To be sure, there are many other dates which will, indeed, live in infamy or be cause for perpetual celebration. But the single day we have chosen to celebrate Americanism is the day the ideas on which our nation was created were signed into effect with a single declaration.
We celebrate words -- not battles, not royal bloodlines, not military might -- because words convey ideas... and America is a nation founded on a set of ideas: freedom, liberty, justice, equality, and opportunity. These ideas, represented by written words, created the foundation on which our way of life has been built.
Because our American Way of Life is built on a set of ideas/ideals, and because I’m pretty sure we ALL take these ideals pretty much for granted on a daily basis – and it would probably be a good thing if we reminded ourselves of them from time to time -- I thought I would commemorate this July 4th by offering a bit of a quiz on some of the Words of Patriotism we have come to cherish.
Below, I’ve listed twelve patriotic phrases. Your job is to identify where each phrase comes from. These correct answers are at the end.
Here we go…
Patriotic Phrase #1: “We the people of the United States….”
Patriotic Phrase #2: “The land of the free, and the home of the brave”.
Patriotic Phrase #3: “WE hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness”
Patriotic Phrase #4: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free….”
Patriotic Phrase #5: “One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all”.
Patriotic Phrase #6: “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof.”
Patriotic Phrase #7: “Crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea”.
Patriotic Phrase #8: “ … no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances”.
Patriotic Phrase #9: “Stand beside her and guide her through the night with the light from above.”
Patriotic Phrase #10: “We mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor”.
Patriotic Phrase #11: “A new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal”.
Patriotic Phrase #12: “Secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity”.
How did you do?
Here are the answers: 1. Preamble of the Constitution; 2. The National Anthem (The Star Spangled Banner); 3. The Declaration of Independence; 4. Inscription of the Statue of Liberty; 5. The Pledge of Allegiance; 6. Inscription of the Liberty Bell (we would also accept Leviticus 25:10); 7. America, the Beautiful; 8. The First Amendment (or The Bill of Rights); 9. God Bless America; 10. The Declaration of Independence, again! 11. Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address; 12. Preamble of the Constitution, again.
Hope you have a safe and happy Independence Day. And as we all celebrate freedom, let’s please keep our fighting men and women in our thoughts and prayers. God Bless America.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The Big Season Finale
Some weeks, it seems, I simply don’t have enough time to write my little column for the newspaper.
Unfortunately, this is one of those weeks.
And even more unfortunately… I’m writing it anyway. YIKES!
If this were a weekly TV show – instead of a weekly newspaper column – we would be in the middle of “Summer Re-runs”, and it wouldn’t really be a problem.
But also, if this were weekly TV show, a few weeks ago we would have aired our Big Season Finale… a really big, exciting, dramatic, top-quality, climatic wrap-up weekly column to end the season… the culmination of all the weekly columns so far.
And, CLEARLY, that didn’t happen here!
Still, the idea that I could take a few months off and just re-use “summer re-runs” until September is appealing to me.
In addition to my failure to publish a “Big Season Finale”, there are several other problems with that plan.
First problem: There were columns about Super Bowl, Easter, Valentine’s Day, and Mother’s Day, none of which will make much sense in August.
Second problem: There’s the annual celebration of Elvis in August. If I’m using re-runs from the winter and spring, I’ll completely miss my opportunity to write anything about The King. That seems a little un-American.
Third problem: Most of my January/February columns detailed my annual New Year’s Resolution Weight Loss Competition in which I, along with six or eight others, tried to shed the most poundage in am eight-week time period. If I re-run those columns, and people see me in my current hippo-pig-whale-like state, they’ll think I was fibbing in February… which is not true… I’ve merely been eating non-stop since the end of the contest. (Perhaps it’s time for a summertime weight-loss competition… any takers?)
Fourth, and perhaps most thorny, is this: I just re-read through all the columns I’ve written so far this year – all of them – and I realized that most of them shouldn’t have been published to start with. I have no writing talent whatsoever. I should immediately cease and desist from any attempts at anything resembling journalism whatsoever. I should not be allowed to own a laptop, or for that matter, an ink pen. They should take away all my tablets of paper, my writing instruments, and put me as far away from a desk as possible. I should get a job driving a truck, or roofing houses, or making sandwiches. But NOT writing column for the newspaper. I have no talent.
Or do I?!!!
Maybe I do, and I just think I don’t. And I’m just conflicted!!!
Do I or don’t I? That’s the kind of conflict that Big Season Finales are made of. Keep the audience guessing. What’s going to happen? It’s a cliffhanger. Nobody knows for sure.
So there you have it, folks. The Big Season Finale! I’ll see you in September.
Or will I?
--------------------------
You’re always welcome to let me know you agree, disagree, can’t make sense of, or simply don’t care about anything I’ve written here… or about any other topic that happens to be on your mind. You can email me directly at: RodShealy@aol.com.
And, if reading it once just wasn’t enough for you, read it again online – along with previous columns -- at my new blog: www.doingthefirst.blogspot.com
Unfortunately, this is one of those weeks.
And even more unfortunately… I’m writing it anyway. YIKES!
If this were a weekly TV show – instead of a weekly newspaper column – we would be in the middle of “Summer Re-runs”, and it wouldn’t really be a problem.
But also, if this were weekly TV show, a few weeks ago we would have aired our Big Season Finale… a really big, exciting, dramatic, top-quality, climatic wrap-up weekly column to end the season… the culmination of all the weekly columns so far.
And, CLEARLY, that didn’t happen here!
Still, the idea that I could take a few months off and just re-use “summer re-runs” until September is appealing to me.
In addition to my failure to publish a “Big Season Finale”, there are several other problems with that plan.
First problem: There were columns about Super Bowl, Easter, Valentine’s Day, and Mother’s Day, none of which will make much sense in August.
Second problem: There’s the annual celebration of Elvis in August. If I’m using re-runs from the winter and spring, I’ll completely miss my opportunity to write anything about The King. That seems a little un-American.
Third problem: Most of my January/February columns detailed my annual New Year’s Resolution Weight Loss Competition in which I, along with six or eight others, tried to shed the most poundage in am eight-week time period. If I re-run those columns, and people see me in my current hippo-pig-whale-like state, they’ll think I was fibbing in February… which is not true… I’ve merely been eating non-stop since the end of the contest. (Perhaps it’s time for a summertime weight-loss competition… any takers?)
Fourth, and perhaps most thorny, is this: I just re-read through all the columns I’ve written so far this year – all of them – and I realized that most of them shouldn’t have been published to start with. I have no writing talent whatsoever. I should immediately cease and desist from any attempts at anything resembling journalism whatsoever. I should not be allowed to own a laptop, or for that matter, an ink pen. They should take away all my tablets of paper, my writing instruments, and put me as far away from a desk as possible. I should get a job driving a truck, or roofing houses, or making sandwiches. But NOT writing column for the newspaper. I have no talent.
Or do I?!!!
Maybe I do, and I just think I don’t. And I’m just conflicted!!!
Do I or don’t I? That’s the kind of conflict that Big Season Finales are made of. Keep the audience guessing. What’s going to happen? It’s a cliffhanger. Nobody knows for sure.
So there you have it, folks. The Big Season Finale! I’ll see you in September.
Or will I?
--------------------------
You’re always welcome to let me know you agree, disagree, can’t make sense of, or simply don’t care about anything I’ve written here… or about any other topic that happens to be on your mind. You can email me directly at: RodShealy@aol.com.
And, if reading it once just wasn’t enough for you, read it again online – along with previous columns -- at my new blog: www.doingthefirst.blogspot.com
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Rob DeBoer, All American
For a few years back in the early 1990’s, Rob DeBoer delighted USC Gamecock fans each Saturday as our gung-ho, get-up-and-go, give-it-all-you’ve-got fullback.
Rob was not your average ball player. He gave it his all, every week, every game, every play. He played the game with enthusiasm. He exemplified the spirit of teamwork and athletic competition.
A prototypical clean-cut Midwesterner, Rob came to Carolina from Nebraska, lured by the chance to play both football and baseball. Indeed, each spring he was a stand-out on the baseball diamond, just as he was on the gridiron each fall.
I didn’t know Rob back then, but I had the opportunity to get to know him in 2004, when we were working together on a community improvement project. Since that time, we’ve worked together on a few projects, and I’ve come to respect him as a hard worker, a dedicated family man, and a genuinely nice guy… AND … a true-believer in the American free-enterprise system (so much so that I’ve suggested to him more than once that he could be a refreshing voice if he were to ever run for public office.)
Shortly after getting to know him, I heard him expounding on his belief in free enterprise. He unabashedly told of his plan to work tirelessly to meet his goal of becoming a millionaire. He wasn’t shy about it, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. He was excited about: energetic and enthusiastic. Rob approaches his work the same way he approached his football career: with zeal. As a fullback, he put his head down, and ran as hard as he could straight ahead… exactly the way the game was meant to be played. And in pursing his career and financial goals, he’s exactly the same. He does it the right way and gives it his very best.
So when I read in The State paper this weekend that Rob was being taken to court by an agency of the federal government, I immediately knew that something was badly amiss.
Not with Rob. With the federal government.
When tax dollars are being used to hassle, harass and persecute an individual who is doing nothing more than working hard to realize the American Dream, something is badly amiss.
And make no mistake… that’s exactly what’s going on here.
A couple of years ago, Rob came across a business which combined two very prevalent marketing trends: online marketing and network marketing. It’s a company called “BurnLounge”, which allows you to purchase music online, and if you wish, make a profit by giving others the opportunity to do so.
I’m familiar with the company, because I signed up a couple of years ago – having been introduced to the concept by another friend -- and I’ve purchased some online music. I never made an attempt to make a profit from the company, because frankly, I’m too old and worn out to have the kind of energetic and enthusiastic money-making zeal Rob has. But... I certainly respect those who DO have that zeal, because that’s what makes America great.
When I was introduced to BurnLounge, I marveled that someone had been clever enough to merge network marketing – the sales approach made famous years ago by Amway – with an online product. This, I thought to myself, is the beginning of a new wave of commerce.
This weekend, however, I read that the company, along with one of their brightest stars, Rob DeBoer, has been taken to court by the Federal Trade Commission (FTC).
After half a century of Amway, Shaklee, Excel, Herbalife, and a host of other vitamin, cleaning, art, and houseware product sales, the FTC has apparently just decided that this style of marketing represents a pyramid scheme.
So the FTC, wearing its “consumer protection” hat, decided to protect us from the people who were clever enough to find a new, high-tech way to buy music, and make a profit while doing so.
Does it seem odd that, while the federal government can’t keep our borders secure, can’t seem to do anything with the millions who are here illegally, and can’t stop them from earning American dollars illegally, it CAN go to court to stop a Nebraska-born go-getter from selling music via the internet?
If I were not so old and cynical, I would probably chalk it up to just another case of bureaucratic incompetence. But I AM old and cynical: In my mind, FTC really stands for “Fatten The Corporations”. And I’ll bet my Hawaiian Shirt collection that this FTC action didn’t happen in a vacuum. Somewhere out there, there’s a giant music or entertainment corporation, or some other media giant or conglomerate, which wanted to see these young upstarts at BurnLounge stopped.
And the shame of it is that Rob DeBoer, the All-American Good Guy, gets negative headlines in the daily paper for nothing more than doing his best and trying his hardest to be successful.
We’ll be keeping you posted with the rest of the story.
Rob was not your average ball player. He gave it his all, every week, every game, every play. He played the game with enthusiasm. He exemplified the spirit of teamwork and athletic competition.
A prototypical clean-cut Midwesterner, Rob came to Carolina from Nebraska, lured by the chance to play both football and baseball. Indeed, each spring he was a stand-out on the baseball diamond, just as he was on the gridiron each fall.
I didn’t know Rob back then, but I had the opportunity to get to know him in 2004, when we were working together on a community improvement project. Since that time, we’ve worked together on a few projects, and I’ve come to respect him as a hard worker, a dedicated family man, and a genuinely nice guy… AND … a true-believer in the American free-enterprise system (so much so that I’ve suggested to him more than once that he could be a refreshing voice if he were to ever run for public office.)
Shortly after getting to know him, I heard him expounding on his belief in free enterprise. He unabashedly told of his plan to work tirelessly to meet his goal of becoming a millionaire. He wasn’t shy about it, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. He was excited about: energetic and enthusiastic. Rob approaches his work the same way he approached his football career: with zeal. As a fullback, he put his head down, and ran as hard as he could straight ahead… exactly the way the game was meant to be played. And in pursing his career and financial goals, he’s exactly the same. He does it the right way and gives it his very best.
So when I read in The State paper this weekend that Rob was being taken to court by an agency of the federal government, I immediately knew that something was badly amiss.
Not with Rob. With the federal government.
When tax dollars are being used to hassle, harass and persecute an individual who is doing nothing more than working hard to realize the American Dream, something is badly amiss.
And make no mistake… that’s exactly what’s going on here.
A couple of years ago, Rob came across a business which combined two very prevalent marketing trends: online marketing and network marketing. It’s a company called “BurnLounge”, which allows you to purchase music online, and if you wish, make a profit by giving others the opportunity to do so.
I’m familiar with the company, because I signed up a couple of years ago – having been introduced to the concept by another friend -- and I’ve purchased some online music. I never made an attempt to make a profit from the company, because frankly, I’m too old and worn out to have the kind of energetic and enthusiastic money-making zeal Rob has. But... I certainly respect those who DO have that zeal, because that’s what makes America great.
When I was introduced to BurnLounge, I marveled that someone had been clever enough to merge network marketing – the sales approach made famous years ago by Amway – with an online product. This, I thought to myself, is the beginning of a new wave of commerce.
This weekend, however, I read that the company, along with one of their brightest stars, Rob DeBoer, has been taken to court by the Federal Trade Commission (FTC).
After half a century of Amway, Shaklee, Excel, Herbalife, and a host of other vitamin, cleaning, art, and houseware product sales, the FTC has apparently just decided that this style of marketing represents a pyramid scheme.
So the FTC, wearing its “consumer protection” hat, decided to protect us from the people who were clever enough to find a new, high-tech way to buy music, and make a profit while doing so.
Does it seem odd that, while the federal government can’t keep our borders secure, can’t seem to do anything with the millions who are here illegally, and can’t stop them from earning American dollars illegally, it CAN go to court to stop a Nebraska-born go-getter from selling music via the internet?
If I were not so old and cynical, I would probably chalk it up to just another case of bureaucratic incompetence. But I AM old and cynical: In my mind, FTC really stands for “Fatten The Corporations”. And I’ll bet my Hawaiian Shirt collection that this FTC action didn’t happen in a vacuum. Somewhere out there, there’s a giant music or entertainment corporation, or some other media giant or conglomerate, which wanted to see these young upstarts at BurnLounge stopped.
And the shame of it is that Rob DeBoer, the All-American Good Guy, gets negative headlines in the daily paper for nothing more than doing his best and trying his hardest to be successful.
We’ll be keeping you posted with the rest of the story.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Once in a Blue Moon
Once in a Blue Moon, I try to include some actually useful information in this column. This is one of those times… depending, of course, on what your definition of “useful” is.
Last month, you may know, we observed a Blue Moon. “Blue Moon” is the term given to a second full moon which occurs in any calendar month. It doesn’t happen very often. On average, there is a Blue Moon every 2.7 years… a little more frequently than we hold presidential elections. During any 100 years, there will be approximately 40 Blue Moons. Hence, the phrase “once in a blue moon”.
I hope you found this information useful. The rest of this column will NOT attempt to include any particularly useful information.
As it turns out, when I was looking at the calendar trying to figure out the Blue Moon thing, it occurred to me that summertime is really here… and my mind started to wander. (You will note that I said “summertime is here”, not “summer is here”. In my mind, there’s a difference: “Summertime”, to me, is the period between Memorial Day and Labor Day, and “summer” is the period between the summer solstice – typically June 21 – and the autumnal equinox – about September 21.)
Anyway, realizing that summertime is here, my mind wandered back to the time when summertime was really important: back when I was a kid!
It was a simpler time, and those glorious months of June, July and August were what made life worth living!
I’m sure you’ve got your own summertime memories from your youth… and I’ll bet if I tell you some of mine, it will jumpstart yours….
Barefoot. All summer long. At the end of the day, my feet were dirty, because they had been in the dirt all day long. (But be careful walking on asphalt. Hot!)
Riding my bike. Everywhere. I used clothes-pins to attach pieces of cardboard to the bike, so the spokes would make a sound like an engine. There was a backseat to give someone a lift, and a basket to tote stuff in… occasionally even a small person or a pet.
Going swimming. Virtually every summer day would find me at the lake. I lived five miles away from Lake Murray, so my buddies and I would hop on our bikes and pedal up and down hills in the middle of the day to reach our swimming spot. Some days, Dad would take us again after work.
Walking to the store to get a Pepsi. It was hot, and a bottle of Pepsi was cold and wet. Buying a soft drink was an extravagance back then. It was before the days of canned drinks in the refrigerator at home, and before there were coin-operated drink boxes on every corner. But you could hike to the nearest store, and for a dime, get a Pepsi, Coke, RC, Nehi, or Dr. Pepper. They were in reusable glass bottles, and the Cokes came in a small size, too. And the best part was this: When you returned your bottle, you got a two-cent deposit back. That means, if I didn’t have a dime – which I frequently didn’t – you could simply collect five bottles and turn them in for a dime, then use the dime to pay for your Pepsi!
Staying a month at a time at Grandma’s house. She lived out in the country… it was great. We’d play Rummy and Setback in the morning, and various aunts, uncles, or cousins usually came by in the afternoon.
Baseball every day. All the guys in the neighborhood would bring their bats and
gloves to the nearest field. It wasn’t exactly sand-lot baseball, because there wasn’t any sand…. It was a field full of weeds that we would beat down, or cut with a sling-blade. We’d choose up sides, and make the rules as we went along. We’d usually keep playing until the sun went down, or the bat broke, or the ball went into a drainage ditch, or one of us got stung by something and needed first aid. We never counted innings. Probably 40 or 50. We also didn’t count balls and strikes… just strikes. A batter could watch 10 or 12 pitches before swinging if he wanted to.
Attic fans and shade trees. Air conditioning was not something readily available in my youth. I remember my family getting our first window unit when I was older… maybe in junior high school (which is what we used to call middle school.) But before that first AC, it was all about fans and shade. At night, I would open the windows and feel the breeze from that attic fan.
Grilling out. There really was not a lot of “eating out” in those days… fast food restaurants really hadn’t been developed yet. So suppertime was always at home. But, for a treat, we’d grill hot dogs, and maybe even hamburgers. For special occasions, we’d have actual store-bought buns with the burgers or dogs – but that was a luxury, because plain ole bread worked just fine.
Camping out. In the back yard! The neighbors would come over, and we’d camp out all night. Sometimes even up in the tree house.
The drive-in movies. During the summertime, Wednesday nights were FREE at Ray’s U.S. 1 Drive-In Theatre in Lexington. Well, not totally free… but all you had to do was get a coupon from a local merchant. I lived right down the street… so I walked in to the drive-in every Wednesday.
Myrtle Beach. Wow. Nowadays, the word “vacation” means taking a week off for an exotic destination, a cruise, or maybe even Disney. Back then, the word meant “Myrtle Beach”… maybe only for a couple of days…maybe even just a day. Didn’t matter. It was Myrtle Beach, and you couldn’t ask for any place better.
I could go on and on… I could fill up an entire newspaper… because when I was a kid, my world revolved around summertime. Life was wonderful.
In this age of cell-phones and laptops, fast food and year-round schools, I hope the kids of today are still getting a little bit of what we had back then. And I hope my memories of summertime have helped you dust off a few of your own.
Last month, you may know, we observed a Blue Moon. “Blue Moon” is the term given to a second full moon which occurs in any calendar month. It doesn’t happen very often. On average, there is a Blue Moon every 2.7 years… a little more frequently than we hold presidential elections. During any 100 years, there will be approximately 40 Blue Moons. Hence, the phrase “once in a blue moon”.
I hope you found this information useful. The rest of this column will NOT attempt to include any particularly useful information.
As it turns out, when I was looking at the calendar trying to figure out the Blue Moon thing, it occurred to me that summertime is really here… and my mind started to wander. (You will note that I said “summertime is here”, not “summer is here”. In my mind, there’s a difference: “Summertime”, to me, is the period between Memorial Day and Labor Day, and “summer” is the period between the summer solstice – typically June 21 – and the autumnal equinox – about September 21.)
Anyway, realizing that summertime is here, my mind wandered back to the time when summertime was really important: back when I was a kid!
It was a simpler time, and those glorious months of June, July and August were what made life worth living!
I’m sure you’ve got your own summertime memories from your youth… and I’ll bet if I tell you some of mine, it will jumpstart yours….
Barefoot. All summer long. At the end of the day, my feet were dirty, because they had been in the dirt all day long. (But be careful walking on asphalt. Hot!)
Riding my bike. Everywhere. I used clothes-pins to attach pieces of cardboard to the bike, so the spokes would make a sound like an engine. There was a backseat to give someone a lift, and a basket to tote stuff in… occasionally even a small person or a pet.
Going swimming. Virtually every summer day would find me at the lake. I lived five miles away from Lake Murray, so my buddies and I would hop on our bikes and pedal up and down hills in the middle of the day to reach our swimming spot. Some days, Dad would take us again after work.
Walking to the store to get a Pepsi. It was hot, and a bottle of Pepsi was cold and wet. Buying a soft drink was an extravagance back then. It was before the days of canned drinks in the refrigerator at home, and before there were coin-operated drink boxes on every corner. But you could hike to the nearest store, and for a dime, get a Pepsi, Coke, RC, Nehi, or Dr. Pepper. They were in reusable glass bottles, and the Cokes came in a small size, too. And the best part was this: When you returned your bottle, you got a two-cent deposit back. That means, if I didn’t have a dime – which I frequently didn’t – you could simply collect five bottles and turn them in for a dime, then use the dime to pay for your Pepsi!
Staying a month at a time at Grandma’s house. She lived out in the country… it was great. We’d play Rummy and Setback in the morning, and various aunts, uncles, or cousins usually came by in the afternoon.
Baseball every day. All the guys in the neighborhood would bring their bats and
gloves to the nearest field. It wasn’t exactly sand-lot baseball, because there wasn’t any sand…. It was a field full of weeds that we would beat down, or cut with a sling-blade. We’d choose up sides, and make the rules as we went along. We’d usually keep playing until the sun went down, or the bat broke, or the ball went into a drainage ditch, or one of us got stung by something and needed first aid. We never counted innings. Probably 40 or 50. We also didn’t count balls and strikes… just strikes. A batter could watch 10 or 12 pitches before swinging if he wanted to.
Attic fans and shade trees. Air conditioning was not something readily available in my youth. I remember my family getting our first window unit when I was older… maybe in junior high school (which is what we used to call middle school.) But before that first AC, it was all about fans and shade. At night, I would open the windows and feel the breeze from that attic fan.
Grilling out. There really was not a lot of “eating out” in those days… fast food restaurants really hadn’t been developed yet. So suppertime was always at home. But, for a treat, we’d grill hot dogs, and maybe even hamburgers. For special occasions, we’d have actual store-bought buns with the burgers or dogs – but that was a luxury, because plain ole bread worked just fine.
Camping out. In the back yard! The neighbors would come over, and we’d camp out all night. Sometimes even up in the tree house.
The drive-in movies. During the summertime, Wednesday nights were FREE at Ray’s U.S. 1 Drive-In Theatre in Lexington. Well, not totally free… but all you had to do was get a coupon from a local merchant. I lived right down the street… so I walked in to the drive-in every Wednesday.
Myrtle Beach. Wow. Nowadays, the word “vacation” means taking a week off for an exotic destination, a cruise, or maybe even Disney. Back then, the word meant “Myrtle Beach”… maybe only for a couple of days…maybe even just a day. Didn’t matter. It was Myrtle Beach, and you couldn’t ask for any place better.
I could go on and on… I could fill up an entire newspaper… because when I was a kid, my world revolved around summertime. Life was wonderful.
In this age of cell-phones and laptops, fast food and year-round schools, I hope the kids of today are still getting a little bit of what we had back then. And I hope my memories of summertime have helped you dust off a few of your own.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
The Basics of Barbecue
Have I ever told you about my kids?
I’ve been blessed with three, each of whom has made me immensely proud as they reached adulthood.
Readers of this newspaper are most likely to know of the one who bears my name, Rod Jr., my oldest son. “RJ”, as he is often called, has followed closely in my footsteps, working with me as both a newspaper editor and political consultant. Despite this obvious error in judgment, I am proud of him. Everyone who works with him in either field – newspaper or politics – comes away impressed with his skills.
My step-daughter, Amy, has spent the last two years as a public school teacher in Charleston and Berkeley counties. She earned her Masters from the College of Charleston in Early Childhood Education, and has a passion for helping to develop young minds that few possess. She, too, has made me very proud.
And then there is my second son, Ross, who some have a hard time believing is my son at all, due to (a) his distinguished stint in the military, and (b) his apparent normal lifestyle. While it’s true that I personally have a hard time wrapping my mind around things like the military or a normal, 9-to-5 job, I am nonetheless both proud of and impressed with his accomplishments. He graduated from Annapolis, served as a U.S. Navy submarine officer, taught Naval Sciences at the University of South Carolina, and is now enrolled in Law School.
A while back, however, I discovered that Ross does have one redeeming departure from normalcy: he writes a very popular blog entitled “Barbecue and Politics” (scbarbecue.blogspot.com).
While his political commentary is insightful and entertaining, his reviews of Barbecue establishments from across the state are critical in answering one of life’s most fundamental questions: “Where can you get the best Barbecue?”
Since, as the old saying goes, “the apple don’t fall too far from the tree”, I’m pretty sure I, too, have some useful BBQ knowledge to impart. And, now that Memorial Day is passed, and we’re well into Barbecue season, I thought I would review some of the Bar-B-Q basics to help you get your summertime off to a good start.
Let me emphasize that it is NOT necessary for everyone to memorize these BBQ basics… only if you live south of the Mason-Dixon line, in which case it is a critical and necessary part of surviving.
BBQ Basic #1: There are about ten different ways to spell barbecue, and they are all correct: Barbecue, Barbeque, Bar-B-Cue, Bar-B-Que, Bar-B-Q, BBQ, etc. Fact of the matter is, it’s danged near impossible to MISspell the word.
BBQ Basic #2: It is not always necessary to capitalize the word Barbecue… only when it is written, spoken, or dreamt of.
BBQ Basic #3: There are three officially-recognized kinds of sauce -- Mustard-based, ketchup-based, and vinegar-based – and the vinegar stuff don’t always count.
BBQ Basic #4: Cooking slabs of pork, beef, poultry, etc., over a fire is “Barbecuing”; Cooking hotdogs or hamburgers on a grill is “grilling”… although the term “barbecue” has been Yankeefied to erroneously refer to the latter as the former. (Note: It’s not proper to capitalize the word “barbecue” when you’re erroneously referring to “grilling out”.)
BBQ Basic #5: Barbecue is good.
BBQ Basic #6: Barbecue is also fattening. Get over it.
BBQ Basic #7: The word Barbecue can be used as a noun, a verb, or an adjective. In some counties, also an interjection.
BBQ Basic #8: Summertime is Barbecue time. If you’re in the South, and you do NOT eat Barbecue on Memorial Day, July Fourth, or Labor Day… hope you enjoyed your stay, now you can go back up North.
BBQ Basic #9: There are only a few acceptable foods to eat along with Barbecue: Hash and rice, baked beans, sliced bread, coleslaw, and hush puppies. If anyone tries to pawn off anything else on you (i.e. – French fries, salad, baked potato, etc.), tell’em to take it back and bring you some HASH!
BBQ Basic #10: Barbecuing is a skill… a lot like rocket science. Don’t try it at home. Leave it to the professionals. (If you have any trouble finding a place to eat Barbecue, feel free to send me an email: RodShealy@aol.com. I’ll consult with my young’uns and let you know the best place for you.)
Have a good summer.
I’ve been blessed with three, each of whom has made me immensely proud as they reached adulthood.
Readers of this newspaper are most likely to know of the one who bears my name, Rod Jr., my oldest son. “RJ”, as he is often called, has followed closely in my footsteps, working with me as both a newspaper editor and political consultant. Despite this obvious error in judgment, I am proud of him. Everyone who works with him in either field – newspaper or politics – comes away impressed with his skills.
My step-daughter, Amy, has spent the last two years as a public school teacher in Charleston and Berkeley counties. She earned her Masters from the College of Charleston in Early Childhood Education, and has a passion for helping to develop young minds that few possess. She, too, has made me very proud.
And then there is my second son, Ross, who some have a hard time believing is my son at all, due to (a) his distinguished stint in the military, and (b) his apparent normal lifestyle. While it’s true that I personally have a hard time wrapping my mind around things like the military or a normal, 9-to-5 job, I am nonetheless both proud of and impressed with his accomplishments. He graduated from Annapolis, served as a U.S. Navy submarine officer, taught Naval Sciences at the University of South Carolina, and is now enrolled in Law School.
A while back, however, I discovered that Ross does have one redeeming departure from normalcy: he writes a very popular blog entitled “Barbecue and Politics” (scbarbecue.blogspot.com).
While his political commentary is insightful and entertaining, his reviews of Barbecue establishments from across the state are critical in answering one of life’s most fundamental questions: “Where can you get the best Barbecue?”
Since, as the old saying goes, “the apple don’t fall too far from the tree”, I’m pretty sure I, too, have some useful BBQ knowledge to impart. And, now that Memorial Day is passed, and we’re well into Barbecue season, I thought I would review some of the Bar-B-Q basics to help you get your summertime off to a good start.
Let me emphasize that it is NOT necessary for everyone to memorize these BBQ basics… only if you live south of the Mason-Dixon line, in which case it is a critical and necessary part of surviving.
BBQ Basic #1: There are about ten different ways to spell barbecue, and they are all correct: Barbecue, Barbeque, Bar-B-Cue, Bar-B-Que, Bar-B-Q, BBQ, etc. Fact of the matter is, it’s danged near impossible to MISspell the word.
BBQ Basic #2: It is not always necessary to capitalize the word Barbecue… only when it is written, spoken, or dreamt of.
BBQ Basic #3: There are three officially-recognized kinds of sauce -- Mustard-based, ketchup-based, and vinegar-based – and the vinegar stuff don’t always count.
BBQ Basic #4: Cooking slabs of pork, beef, poultry, etc., over a fire is “Barbecuing”; Cooking hotdogs or hamburgers on a grill is “grilling”… although the term “barbecue” has been Yankeefied to erroneously refer to the latter as the former. (Note: It’s not proper to capitalize the word “barbecue” when you’re erroneously referring to “grilling out”.)
BBQ Basic #5: Barbecue is good.
BBQ Basic #6: Barbecue is also fattening. Get over it.
BBQ Basic #7: The word Barbecue can be used as a noun, a verb, or an adjective. In some counties, also an interjection.
BBQ Basic #8: Summertime is Barbecue time. If you’re in the South, and you do NOT eat Barbecue on Memorial Day, July Fourth, or Labor Day… hope you enjoyed your stay, now you can go back up North.
BBQ Basic #9: There are only a few acceptable foods to eat along with Barbecue: Hash and rice, baked beans, sliced bread, coleslaw, and hush puppies. If anyone tries to pawn off anything else on you (i.e. – French fries, salad, baked potato, etc.), tell’em to take it back and bring you some HASH!
BBQ Basic #10: Barbecuing is a skill… a lot like rocket science. Don’t try it at home. Leave it to the professionals. (If you have any trouble finding a place to eat Barbecue, feel free to send me an email: RodShealy@aol.com. I’ll consult with my young’uns and let you know the best place for you.)
Have a good summer.
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