Essay

Not My Last Supper

I have the luxury (or curse) of having ten plus years of stuff I’ve written on record, either in this blog or in thousands of pages of notes. We have a terrible habit these days of taking a tweet some guy wrote ten years ago and using it to sink their entire career. On occasion, I’m going to uses things I’ve written in the past to show you how absurd this practice is. I barely recognize things I wrote a year ago, much less ten. While I take responsibility for the things I wrote, because I did write them, I ask that you allow me the opportunity to change my mind. To admit I was wrong. Please let me learn from my mistakes, even if it takes years.

This is not easy for me to do but I think it is important. Something I wrote two years ago came up again and I feel the need to address it. “My Last Supper” is a small post, only 500 words, but it still lives with people I care about. And it’s ugly. And I’d like to correct the record. 

This old post is about how much trouble I used to have attending large gatherings like dinners. Instead of trying to figure out why and fix the issues in my life, I decided to blame the dinners themselves and my friends for even inviting me to them. I wanted you to know how much I hated the evenings and I wanted you to in turn quit having them or at least quit inviting me. The people that I’m speaking to in this post aren’t adversaries, they are people that I love. Why do I so crudely admonish them for inviting me to a party? I don’t know. I think I was looking for something or someone to blame for my unhappiness. Other than me of course. 

Honestly, I wanted to just delete the post because it is so hard for me to read and admit I even wrote. But because someone recently brought it up again, because they were planing a nice dinner and they were worried I would not agree to come, I feel the only way I can erase the damage the post has done is to address it verbatim. I so easily forget that the things I write and say matter. Even if it only matters to a few people.  

The words in bold are from the old post. They appear unchanged. I’ll also link the post here. Continue reading “Not My Last Supper”

Charleston, Humor

Beep

img_1489
Formerly a quiet field of grass

Beep, beep, beep. They are building a 300-unit apartment complex outside my apartment window. Every piece of heavy equipment must beep. In the 90’s, they only used to beep when they went backwards. But now, some of them beep when they go backwards and forwards, side to side. Continue reading “Beep”

Charleston, Humor, Travel

Jack Hanna Flies Coach

2019-poster

On a recent trip out of Charleston, I noticed a celebrity on my flight to Atlanta. None other than TV’s Jack Hanna was standing with his wife, waiting for his boarding zone to be called. I didn’t bother him. I like the man and I appreciate his work, but he’s not exactly the Crocodile Hunter. The odd thing about the encounter was that “Premium” was already boarding and I was next in “Sky” (because I foolishly paid more for the extra leg room and the free banana) and Jack and his wife weren’t in my boarding group. They were in coach with all the other people who weren’t international TV personalities or frequent Late Show with David Letterman guests. Continue reading “Jack Hanna Flies Coach”

Charleston, Humor, Travel

Droning On

 

When I was a kid, I loved anything that you could fly. I remember getting these planes made out of Styrofoam that were about five feet long and could fly when you threw them. On the package, there were pictures of people doing amazing tricks with these toys. Not appearing on the package was the fact that you threw them once, they flew beautifully and then crashed into the ground or a tree and the wing would break and that was it. I bet I owned ten of them and broke every one. Continue reading “Droning On”

Charleston, Humor

Meddling Concert Women

I don’t dance in public often. Except for being filled with a rare combination of alcohol and a well-stacked wedding buffet, I can’t say I dance in public ever. Alone in my car or the shower is a different story. There, should the mood strike, I’m pretty good on the fake bass guitar and lead vocals. Sorry you had to see that.

image1

Anyway, last night I went to see a little ole band from Texas called ZZ Top in a theater in downtown Charleston. It was fantastic. Three guys don’t make it for forty plus years in the music business being terrible. The concert was great and the Top delivered like they always do. The people I was sitting around, however, did not with a capital “Dammit.” Continue reading “Meddling Concert Women”

Humor

Save Daylight Saving Time

Next week most Americans will participate in one of the country’s dumbest traditions. No, it’s not picking which one of the two numbskulls we want to head our government. It’s setting our clocks back to “standard” time. In our increasingly connected world, can’t we do away with this practice?

Most of the articles I read on the subject suggested we should quit Daylight Saving Time, but those people are just annoying contrarians. I figure most of us like when the day is longer. So instead of fooling with our internal and external clocks, let’s set DST and leave it alone. Continue reading “Save Daylight Saving Time”

DIY, Humor

Unhandy Zilch

I have always been jealous of people who could work a drill. I just don’t have that talent. Both of my grandfathers did. One was a brick engineer and the other one ran a successful construction company. Well, they’d be proud of their grandson today because I just finished installing a light fixture in my bedroom and it only took me two weeks and so many trips to Lowes that I now qualify for part-time benefits. Continue reading “Unhandy Zilch”