Black Friday Football Madness

So there you are, in apparent gridlock on the sporting goods aisle, surrounded by a nameless and faceless mob of Black Friday shoppers that deep down you wish had stayed home or didn't event exist. From your vantage point, you can see the shelf where only seven something or others, which Jimmy and Jenny really want for Christmas, are left for the taking. Like Coach Ridings and his crew you have a plan, but progress is slow as you meander through the shopping mosh pit like a spawning salmon desperately struggling upstream. Your heart  skips a beat and an involuntary gasp escapes your lips, as you watch helplessly the number quickly dwindle from seven to four something or others. Your pushing pace increases slightly, as you lean into and push past the horde of shopping zombies in your path. Then suddenly there were three on the shelf and there's still fifty feet between you and finally nabbing one of those something or others. The ugly human law of supply and demand plays out further as a coughing zombie barking into her cell phone grabs one of the something or others while asking the person on the other end of the call, "do we need one of these something or others..?"  With the restraint of a Monk at a football pep rally, you subdue thoughts of slapping her cell phone high into the air like a majorette's baton or better yet up against her gaudy earring. Clutching your playlist like a cheerleader holding a pom-pom, you ponder why you chose this madness over watching the Bulldogs in the Brickyard. Then it hits you what a terrible waste it would be to have endured all of this and not come home with the hardware! 

A rude line of five shoppers is all that's left between you and the last two something or others. In a nanosecond, you survey the field and weigh your options. Although you're no spring chicken, you've still got some old school jet fuel in the tank and an end run like Rashad Sturgiss or Tyrique Braswell is definitely open, but how much sweeter would it be to lower your shoulder and barrel right through the line like Billy Mance or Micheal Thomas! Like a Navy jet launched from an aircraft carrier's catapult, you jolt to the corner and take the edge and have open field now between you and those something or others. With outstretched hands like Christian Tutt, Trey Parker, Brian Smith, Patterson Hutto, or Jacorey Crawford you strive to land a something or other with only twelve minutes left to save $22. 43  

In an instant, a shopping zombie walking by the items turns on a dime and while executing a beautiful spin move sweeps away the last two items and looks at you with all the Christmas warmth you could expect at a whipped up shopping free for all. It all went down in slow motion with Christmas music crammed down your ears like a toddler eating a hand fulls of spaghettios. Feeling utterly dejected, you pick-up a pair of cheesy Christmas socks and a pack of gum on your way out so you've got something to show for your incredible waste of time and energy. As you get back onto I-20 to head West to Thomson, you forgo the Christmas tunes and dial up 101.7 to catch the score of the Thomson game. It's still crackling as you pass Belair road and you can't make out much of the broadcast. As we all do when driving you think and your thoughts begin to wonder for a moment how things would have been different had the Thomson offensive line been clearing a path for you at the store.  Ford Whatley, KT Woods, Myles David, Phillip Williams, Will Roberts, and Walker Tharpe would have rolled through that place like boulders down a mountain side hitting a cluster of cars at the Sprint in Thomson on a Friday afternoon and you could have easily scored that something or other. While waiting to hit the Grovetown exit and better reception from WTHO, you also entertain how satisfying it would have been to watch the Thomson defensive crew make short work of that crude hooligan that pulled those last few items off the shelf. You imagine him being stood up and taken rudely to the tile by Jaquez Hart, Daivon Randall, Nick Moss, Justin Bradshaw, Billy Youngblood, and Nick Becerra.

At last, the broadcast is coming in clearly now and you can tell by the excitement in their voices that the DOGS are either winning or on the jagged edge of doing something great. You beat the steering wheel as you holler, "What's the score what's the score!!" Desperate to salvage some meaning to the evening, you pick up speed in hopes of arriving in time to catch the last quarter or so. It turns out you've got time to make it back and catch about the last 10 minutes of the game and it's then that you just want to kick yourself like Dakota Gergen "Jer-jen" on a 52 yard game winner for even thinking about skipping this game to buy some stupid sale priced something or other.  

Go Dogs!!

Make Time to Experience Tomorrow

For centuries, some of the greatest minds to ever walk this planet have wrestled with the notion of tomorrow. While some say it exists, others are equally adamant that there simply is no such day. Apollo Creed, a character in the Rocky movie series, while working to motivate Rocky shouted, "There is no tomorrow!" As an impressionable young man, that movie line hit home with me and I've clung desperately to that belief for decades. To others, tomorrow is simply a very convenient word used to explain or excuse why they are not doing something today.


This morning at sunrise, while sipping hot coffee and giving my brain time to run free, it hit me that THIS was tomorrow! No, not this entire day, but those moments in time. Tomorrow, I've discovered, is a place in time between yesterday and before today truly gets underway. But it's more than a place in time, it's also a state of mind. We now know that dreams are our brains way of processing and learning from the events and interactions of the previous day. So, to be specific, tomorrow is a place in time and a state of mind that can only be realized when you rise to meet the day. It is where you revisit the successes, failures, memories, feelings, and events from the previous day or days gone by, while also pondering your plans, goals, hopes, and dreams for the new day and beyond. Tomorrow is truly a very magical place where hope grows and emotional fuel is generated for the next leg in the very difficult and challenging pursuit of your dreams. Its duration seems to be somewhere between 7-10 minutes long and afterward, it's simply gone and the time has come to evolve, apply, save the changes, and take on today!


Yes, there is a place in time called "tomorrow" and you can find it today or you can just keep waiting until tomorrow.

The Green Wood at Deadwood

      The shadows grew longer across the dusty tile floor as the the line between afternoon and evening blurred. Cal shuffled in front of a row of wheel chairs lined up like a car show facing the sunset. Parked in the wheel chairs were folks at that stage of life where they just weren't able to care for themselves any longer. Known years before as teachers, foremen, nurses, coaches, brothers, sisters, parents, and Sunday school teachers now they sit and pass the time hoping for a visitor or someone to just drop by and play the piano for a little while. Cal, worked for 34 years in the banking business and did quite well, lost his wife of 40 years to cancer a few years back, and although he was in good spirits, his mind was failing. Aside from occasionally forgetting where he was or what he was doing, Cal thought he was doing just fine. Sure there were risks, but he accepted those risks so he could live freely in his house out in the country. "What's the worst that could happen!," he'd asked his kids at the big 'family meeting' when they were selling the idea that he should move to a nursing home. "I suppose I could fall and die peacefully right here in my own damn house, what's so bad about that?" was Cal's dry and very honest rhetorical reply. He was still sharp enough to also realize that this was not just about his well being. His children were grown and each had families of their own several hours and states away from the old family place in the North Georgia mountains. He knew they were wrought with guilt because they were simply unable to check on him more often and the shriveling economy made it very difficult for any of them to take a leave of absence to be with him for a while. So, after many restless nights and against his better judgement, Cal signed on the dotted line and was delivered to his current residence where he soon began to "rot away" at Deadwood with the 'real' old folks. It was truly an act of love. Clearly, he was not where he wanted to be doing things he didn't want to do with people he was having a hard time growing fond of and yet his own children could now carry on their distant lives with a much lighter load of anxiety. On the way to is room for the night he paused and leaned on his walker to soak in the sunset and he quietly wondered how many more of these he'd see before his time was up. Jack from the East wing came sliding by and Cal turned and told him, "I'll whip your ass again tomorrow if you feel up to racin'." Jack stopped his walker and laughed until he coughed uncontrollably then he smiled a wide smile at Cal. "The day I wake up and don't feel like racing your ugly ass is the day I pray the good Lord sends his angels to carry me home. Cal smiled back as they locked eyes.." Well, you bring that raggedy old walker and I'll see you just after breakfast you old bastard."