This is along the lines of Brandon Scott Thomas' recent rant about cel phone etiquette. He says it well.
Last night, my family went to a baseball game (A's against the Mariners, if you want to know), and while spending way too much time standing line for pizza and garlic fries, I discovered something: Not only do people think that talking on a cel phone seem to believe that the phone somehow shields them from being overheard, so does standing in line at a concession stand.
While waiting 25 minutes for pizza (and if I hadn't been getting it for my lovely daughter, I'd have skipped it!), I stood behind two brothers with their significant others, younger folks than I, as the two brothers discussed their relationship with, and the shortcomings of, their estranged father. Included in the conversation was a discussion of each of their relative drunkenness at the moment, the bad habits of their father, some stupid things they'd done in their relationships with their father and each other, and other embarassing details that I'd not have mentioned in front of complete strangers.
While waiting 45 minutes for garlic fries (and if they hadn't been garlic fries, I'd have skipped it!), two women whom I can only describe as "common-sense challenged" discussed the effects of hairstyles on how much attention -- and how much affection, to put it mildly -- they would get when meeting complete strangers in social settings (i.e. getting picked up by guys in bars). Also discussed were the relative merits and faults of several of their coworkers, including their appreciation for the appearance of some of the males in question, and their disdain for the success of one of the females at getting the attention of said males.
I wanted to shout, "Do you people realize that you sound really, really dumb talking like this in front of other people? Talk about the weather, your investment portfolio, technical aspects of your favorite hobby (cars, knitting, rock-climbing, whatever), or anything but personal details of your lives that reflect poorly on you!"
But I didn't. I was busy smelling the garlic, and keeping my 7-year-old son (8 in a few days) from having to hear the more salacious details, and keeping him entertained while standing in line for over an hour.
I think the A's won, but I missed most of the game.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Saturday, July 24, 2004
On vacation
Has it really been three weeks since I've posted? Yikes! I've not been overly busy, but there has been a real loud silence between my ears most days.
We are on a short vacation right now. We left home Monday afternoon and drove to San Diego, where my parents live with my grandmother Charlene Watson. She's a great lady, and we love to be here in her home. Now that Mom and Dad are here, too, it's an even greater treat to be here.
Granddad "Bud" Watson built this house... rather, he put it together. It had been part of a government building somewhere in town, and he had it moved to this lot in Bay Park, and made it into a small house for him, his wife, and their two young daughters. That was in the late '40s. They made some additions over the years, with a master bedroom and bathroom, larger kitchen, and a "prophet's chamber" on the patio with its own bathroom. With only a few breaks, my grandmother has lived here ever since.
Granddad died 7 years ago, and he is missed, but he's also very much present in this house. The living room has held so many people through the years, in large and small numbers. In this house, so many have found wise counsel, tender compassion, and a love strong enough to tell even the most difficult truths. In the adjacent dining room, so many wonderful meals have been shared with family, friends, and people in need. In the kitchen, the table has known more games of spades, forty-two, and Scrabble than most homes in America! The bedrooms have heard so many bedtime stories and prayers of my mother and aunt, my brothers and I and our cousins, and now of my own children and my neice. The "prophet's chamber" on the patio has hosted many young men looking for work as preachers, people on the move, and visiting friends. The yard has been the scene of so many playtimes, you couldn't count all the games played.
This house is full of love. It's so wonderful to see my own kids playing here as I did. There are so many objects in the house that I can remember from my childhood: the cookie jar, which is always filled whenever a grandchild comes to visit; the unique lamps in the living room -- one of which I broke part of years ago, but it is still in use; the secretary desk in my grandmother's room; the clock my mother made for my grandparents nearly 30 years ago;... There are so many memories in this place and in these objects.
My granparents passed on their legacy of faith to their daughters, and that has been passed on to their children. My grandmother worries that we haven't kept the faith -- not everone does church the way she approves of, and some even attend with other denominations. But she still loves us, and loves to have us here, loves to beat us at Scrabble, and play silly games with the kids. She and my grandfather showed us how to love our families. I pray that I have learned that lesson well enough for my kids to be able to pass it on to their kids.
We are on a short vacation right now. We left home Monday afternoon and drove to San Diego, where my parents live with my grandmother Charlene Watson. She's a great lady, and we love to be here in her home. Now that Mom and Dad are here, too, it's an even greater treat to be here.
Granddad "Bud" Watson built this house... rather, he put it together. It had been part of a government building somewhere in town, and he had it moved to this lot in Bay Park, and made it into a small house for him, his wife, and their two young daughters. That was in the late '40s. They made some additions over the years, with a master bedroom and bathroom, larger kitchen, and a "prophet's chamber" on the patio with its own bathroom. With only a few breaks, my grandmother has lived here ever since.
Granddad died 7 years ago, and he is missed, but he's also very much present in this house. The living room has held so many people through the years, in large and small numbers. In this house, so many have found wise counsel, tender compassion, and a love strong enough to tell even the most difficult truths. In the adjacent dining room, so many wonderful meals have been shared with family, friends, and people in need. In the kitchen, the table has known more games of spades, forty-two, and Scrabble than most homes in America! The bedrooms have heard so many bedtime stories and prayers of my mother and aunt, my brothers and I and our cousins, and now of my own children and my neice. The "prophet's chamber" on the patio has hosted many young men looking for work as preachers, people on the move, and visiting friends. The yard has been the scene of so many playtimes, you couldn't count all the games played.
This house is full of love. It's so wonderful to see my own kids playing here as I did. There are so many objects in the house that I can remember from my childhood: the cookie jar, which is always filled whenever a grandchild comes to visit; the unique lamps in the living room -- one of which I broke part of years ago, but it is still in use; the secretary desk in my grandmother's room; the clock my mother made for my grandparents nearly 30 years ago;... There are so many memories in this place and in these objects.
My granparents passed on their legacy of faith to their daughters, and that has been passed on to their children. My grandmother worries that we haven't kept the faith -- not everone does church the way she approves of, and some even attend with other denominations. But she still loves us, and loves to have us here, loves to beat us at Scrabble, and play silly games with the kids. She and my grandfather showed us how to love our families. I pray that I have learned that lesson well enough for my kids to be able to pass it on to their kids.
Saturday, July 03, 2004
Forming manageable addictions
It seems to be the nature of humanity, I think, to become addicted to something. For some, it's mind-altering substances, for others, it's mind-numbing acctivities (e.g. soap operas or video games), and for others, it's fashion and style. For me, it's caffeine. And the Internet. And science fiction. And music. And Hawaiian shirts.
I think it's the job of every parent to help their children avoid addictions that are harmful. Teach them the dangers of drugs and bad sitcoms. Show them how to be reliant on God, not on other people's opinions of what's trendy or cool or "phat." Get them hooked on good stuff, like good music (classical, '80s stadium rock, and bluegrass, for example), good science fiction (the Star Trek franchise shows, Star Wars, and Stargate SG-1), and veggies (if I have to tell you which ones of these, you need to visit the produce section of your local grocer and ask for samples).
Addict 'em to something that won't kill 'em or rot their brains.
In that interest, I'd like to propose to all those who run coffee establishments the following: The Training Mocha (TM) series. It starts with a kid's hot chocolate with a half-shot of decaf coffee, then graduates up by adding incremental amounts of caffeinated coffee. By the time they're in high school, they're up to full strength.
I'm just doing my part to help make the world a better place. You're welcome.
I think it's the job of every parent to help their children avoid addictions that are harmful. Teach them the dangers of drugs and bad sitcoms. Show them how to be reliant on God, not on other people's opinions of what's trendy or cool or "phat." Get them hooked on good stuff, like good music (classical, '80s stadium rock, and bluegrass, for example), good science fiction (the Star Trek franchise shows, Star Wars, and Stargate SG-1), and veggies (if I have to tell you which ones of these, you need to visit the produce section of your local grocer and ask for samples).
Addict 'em to something that won't kill 'em or rot their brains.
In that interest, I'd like to propose to all those who run coffee establishments the following: The Training Mocha (TM) series. It starts with a kid's hot chocolate with a half-shot of decaf coffee, then graduates up by adding incremental amounts of caffeinated coffee. By the time they're in high school, they're up to full strength.
I'm just doing my part to help make the world a better place. You're welcome.
Friday, July 02, 2004
Funerals
This weekend, we'll be singing at the funeral of a gentleman who's been at our church for years. He was a very thoughtful man, and great encourager to the praise team. He never liked using anything but the King James bible, but he never insisted others do the same.
I'm always a bit torn when singing at funerals. Part of me wants to sing sedate, hopeful songs, to respect the feelings of the family. Another part of me wants to sing enthusiastic, victorious songs, to celebrate that one of our brothers or sisters has completed their race! At the request of the widow, though, we'll be singing some of these upbeat songs, including one in which we use vocal percussion. It will be a good thing, I think.
Oh, yes... she also requested that we sing "The Lord's Prayer," the arrangement that gave me all the nerves last week. Sheesh... can't a guy get a break?!!!
I'm always a bit torn when singing at funerals. Part of me wants to sing sedate, hopeful songs, to respect the feelings of the family. Another part of me wants to sing enthusiastic, victorious songs, to celebrate that one of our brothers or sisters has completed their race! At the request of the widow, though, we'll be singing some of these upbeat songs, including one in which we use vocal percussion. It will be a good thing, I think.
Oh, yes... she also requested that we sing "The Lord's Prayer," the arrangement that gave me all the nerves last week. Sheesh... can't a guy get a break?!!!
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