My friend John Hartwell had the rare and incredibly cool privilege yesterday of seeing his designs literally take the field for a real live professional baseball team, as his new logo debuted in Birmingham for the Double-A Barons. Their home page features his new design boldly, which is definitely wise because it kicks ass. Here's the press conference where the new design was introduced, with a poster showing the various elements:
And here are the actual uniforms on actual players. 
It's one thing to draw something out on paper, but it's a whole new level of awesome to see what you've created take life for real. My friends and I are all sports fans, and to see something one of us designed take the actual field is just cool beyond words.
Congratulations to John and the Birmingham Barons, I hope this is just the first of many sports-related projects to come!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Professional Sports Designer Does Good
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Good Advice
Both of the two best pieces of advice I've ever gotten came from my brother Joey. To wit:
The opinions of worthless people are worthless.
And:
Marriage isn't fifty-fifty. It's one hundred-one hundred.
When my father and mother split up and Dad moved to Lake Charles for a while (before they got back together then split up again and got back together again and ... ), Joey was pretty much the man of the house. He took great care of us all. I remember that time as one of the few stretches where the house felt at peace, where I wasn't always walking on eggshells and waiting for the next explosion.
That didn't last, of course, but the simple and profound lessons my brother taught us did. Take care of your family. Shed the worthless opinions of those unworthy of judging you. Give it everything you've got.
It's the basic stuff that endures. I know it wasn't easy for him to take up the burden of responsibility at his age, but he did it and did it well.
So I want to say thank you to Joey, and to all those like him who carry the rest of us forward. You give it a hundred percent and inspire us to do the same. I hope we don't fail you.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Eulogy
One of the ScienceBloggers has a tremendously moving account of his father's death posted today. It brought tears to my eyes. I can still hear that horrible moan my dad let out just after he slipped into unconsciousness there on his bed in my mother's house. Losing a parent is a wrenching experience and my heart goes out to the author and his family.
The post is well worth a read, but have a tissue handy.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Wherein Science Proves I'm Dumb
According to the New York Times, eldest children in a family have an IQ an average of 3 points higher than younger siblings. The higher up in birth order you are, the smarter you are. The lower down, the dumber.
Find the Moron!
However, I've just been handed this note by the Pocket Lint Anti-Defamation League, disavowing any relationship between the IQ of their members and, quote, "That one-lobed mouth breather Jeff," endquote.
So, there you have it, clearly this research must be in error, which would have been abundantly clear had any of these scientists actually met my older siblings. I'm not saying they're dim, I'm just saying they thought 9-11 was the store two blocks down from 7-11.
Actually I'd say 3 IQ points is probably on the low side. What they don't tell you is that the lost intelligence is due to an unending stream of wedgies throughout the early developmental years. They also ate all the good food before I could get to it so I was undernourished. And ... um .... I'm sure there are other reasons too, but I lack the IQ to think of them. Maybe I'll call my brother and he can tell me.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The Purpose of This Blog
This is in response to a comment by GeoPoet in an earlier thread, here. If the rantings of an evil atheist about religion are going to scorch your ears, you'd probably better not click the "More" button. No, really, stop right there. Don't click that link! Don't --
D'oh! Oh well, you were warned.
GeoPoet Said:I point these out because I get the impression, wrong perhaps, that there doesn't seem to be much attempt at balance in your blog any more.
I believe we have a fundamental misunderstanding here. The purpose of this blog is not to "be balanced", whatever that means. The purpose of this blog is not to "convert" anyone to atheism, as if that's even possible. It is not to give all religions a chance to have their say. It is not to let all atheists have their say. It is not to give every political party a chance to make their case or to examine every side of every issue.
The purpose of this blog is for me, a discreet individual living in a certain place at a specific time, to talk about my life and my thoughts. I live on a ranch in the middle of Texas, surrounded by animals, while working on Internet entertainment software and drawing super-heroes, surrounded by deeply religious Republicans while I am a liberal Democrat and atheist. So that's what I write about.
The purpose of this blog is for me to write about what I know, about what I experience, about what I believe. I don't write about life in the Australian outback, because I don't live in Australia. I don't write about life as a Hindu because I'm not a Hindu. I don't write about how from one point of view George W. Bush is the greatest president in history, because I don't believe that -- I believe he's an insufferable oaf who has done incalculable damage to the country I love. Writing anything else would be not only very difficult since, as I said, I don't know anything about it, but it would also be a lie. And while I freely admit I make mistakes, I don't lie.
If you're interested in any of those perspectives, I would encourage you to use Google Blog Search to go find a blog that writes about them. That's the whole point of blogging, so discrete and previously hard-to-find voices have an outlet. Trying to turn this space into some kind of bizarre "fair and balanced" newsroom would be as farcical as it would be impossible. Expecting me to write stirring defenses of theism is a waste of expectations, because I'm not a theist and my goal isn't to convince or sway anyone -- it's just to write about what life is like from my own point of view. That's it. However, I feel there is a need to give the whole picture to those who get a biased picture of the joys of atheism, especially relatives reading this blog.
What you're really worried about, I think, is that someone reading this blog might, just possibly, come to the heretical and horrific conclusion that at least one atheist in the world is not, as they were taught in Sunday school or by their parents, evil or horrible. That at least one atheist is a good person, a nice guy, who loves his family and his animals and who wants to help make the world a better place. That atheism, at least for this one guy, doesn't mean Doom. Not with the goal of "converting" them (whatever that means), but just so they can learn some tolerance, some critical thinking, some awareness that unexamined bigotry -- even if fed to them by a well-intentioned parent -- is not just foolish, but harmful.
Ultimately, holding a specific, individual life up for examination, warts and all, is the only way to defeat bigotry. And at the end of the day, that is the purpose of writing about atheism from time to time in this blog; to refute the bigoted tyranny of the majority with the simple reality of my life and my existence.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Hobbesian Friday: Out to Get Me Edition
Released on: Tuesday, May 6th 1986. Images copyright Bill Watterson and Universal Press Syndicate.I'm told that when she was younger, my sister Diane had two lists: "People I Hate" and "People Who Hate Me". God and my brother Johnny were at the top of both lists. I'm pretty sure she's gotten over it at this point, but I always think of her when I read this strip.
My most enduring personal memory of my sister is of her dragging me out of bed at two in the morning when she was bored and wanted to play cards. The fact that I was sleeping and didn't want to play cards was irrelevant -- her usual
Groggy, bleary, barely understanding the rules to "Battle" she taught me, I staggered through an hour of "play". Finally she laughed and told me she had played the same ace, the exact same card, seventeen times in a row. "I've been cheating the whole time and you didn't even notice!" she howled, hooting and pointing. She assumed I was an idiot, never even guessing that my true motivation was utter indifference to cards and an all-consuming desire to return to sleep.
Humiliated, abused, and cardless, I was finally permitted to go back to my bed, but the memory stuck.
I've got news for Calvin -- the person out to get him isn't God, it's my sister Diane. If he's lucky Hobbes will hide the cards before she gets to them ...
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
My Father-In-Law on Katie Couric
George Phenix is my father-in-law and he writes a damn good piece of journalism. He's also great with quips, observations, drinkin' stories, and insight, and the New York Observer just ran a quote from him in their piece about Katie Couric:
George Phenix, the founder of the Texas Weekly—who in 1963, while on assignment for a CBS affiliate in Dallas, filmed Jack Ruby shooting Lee Harvey Oswald—said that if anyone should lose patience, it’s Ms. Couric.
“I think it’s naïve to blame all of CBS’s woes on her,” said Mr. Phenix. “It began with Dan Rather—nothing much they can do. I think she’s the wrong person for the wrong time. That doesn’t mean that in the future, it might not work. But I want my anchors to be ugly like Roger Mudd, and have brass balls like Mike Wallace. And I think good looks just get in the way. It makes the mind wander. If I were Katie, I’d take the money and run.”
I think we could all use with a healthy dose of Mike Wallace's brass balls right about now, thanks George.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
The Nostalgia of Bigotry
When we were coming home from church one Sunday, many years ago while I was still a young boy, we passed by a street corner filled with white-clad men in hoods. They were handing out literature, little locally-produced pamphlets announcing a fish fry or whatnot to support the KKK.
My father made some remark that was supportive of them and their aims. Specifics are lost to the fog of memory, but I remember my mom making a "tsking" sound and admonishing him, telling him to quit kidding.
But those men under the hoods weren't kidding. They were all smiles and handshakes, but what drove them to put on the robes was hatred, honestly held and unashamedly advocated. I doubt they even thought of themselves as bigots; in their own minds they were sober, right-thinking, upstanding men out to save a nation from the Black Scourge. They had their literature filled with "scientific" studies showing how inferior the Black Man was to the White, how they were planning on mingling with the superior races to corrupt America, and how the KKK and the fine individuals filling it were the only lookouts on the hill sounding the alarm.
For a long time I think my father felt some kinship with them, the white-robed bigots who thought they were doing the rest of the world a favor, who thought so highly of their own moral sense and the clear evidence of their eyes that they were willing to stand up in public and pass out their pamphlets.
One thing that is absolutely clear, however, is that he was ultimately able to overcome whatever feelings of racism he might have had. The great equalizer for him was his experience dealing with alcoholism. He conquered it with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous and remained sober for an astonishing number of years, but he struggled with its call every day. It was the humbling weight of that burden, I suspect, that made him understand that people are just people underneath it all; a White man is no more able to fight alcoholism alone than a Black man. At the end of the day they're both just drunks trying desperately not to have one more drink, and that absolutely transcends skin color. He dedicated his life to helping anyone -- Black, White, or Purple -- defeat that demon.
His funeral was attended by a large number of people of all races, people he'd helped with their addictions as a counselor, lives he'd touched in the most profound way. That's what makes me think he was also able to overcome the bigotry he was weaned on growing up in Louisiana, which still lived on in the form of those white-clad men on the corner I saw while coming home from church decades later, when I was just a boy.
What do we do when confronted with bigotry up close and personal? What is our obligation to our fellow man, both those who are in the hated class and those who but stand by idly on the sidelines? Is it better to speak out and rage, or to work quietly and show them the error of their ways through the example of our lives?
Although I understand and applaud those who are outspoken, militant activists, my nature is to do the latter, because in my experience there is no argument so persuasive as a life well-lived in honor and goodness. I know that personally, I first learned that the racism I'd been taught growing up was wrong when I enrolled in (and graduated from) an inner-city, 85% Black high school and got to know them as human beings instead of stereotypes. Contrary to what I'd been led to believe, they were people just like me beneath their skin, as capable of both greatness and meanness as I was, as full of love and hate as I was, as intelligent and stupid as the best or worst of my white friends.
The same thing happened in college with regards to homosexuals, whom I'd been taught growing up were among the most twisted, evil, horrible people ever to exist. I wasn't even allowed to watch "Three's Company" because Jack Tripper pretended to be gay. "But Dad," I'd say, "he's not actually gay!" That didn't matter, though; apparently even the appearance of anything homosexual was enough to cause irreparable harm in the viewer. Archie Bunker's hate-filled bigotry was Must See TV, but Jack Tripper's pretend gayness was verboten.
And yet, just like in high school, when I got to actually know some gay people, they too were just regular people. Good, bad, smart, stupid, kind, hateful, they ran the same gamut of humanity as any straight people I'd ever met. They just happened to be attracted to their own gender, but that didn't make them evil.
And so another inherited bigotry fell to the wayside. Again and again, every time I came to actually know someone from a group I'd been taught was evil, I learned that they were not.
Every time.
And so I came to understand that people are simply people, no matter the color of their skin, the orientation of their sexuality, the tenor of their faith, or the country of their origin. I distrust those who try to tell me that anyone different from me is evil, or inherently twisted, or irredeemably wicked just by virtue of that difference, because that kind of bigotry has been proven wrong time and time again right in front of my eyes. There is no more powerful a refutation of hatred and bigotry than personal experience. Showing someone through the living example of your own life how wrong they are to hate is far more convincing than any book, any movie, any argument could ever be.
I sometimes despair that it will do any good, because once it takes root, bigotry and hatred are extremely hard to dislodge. But my father did it, and that gives me hope. He got to know Black people as simply people, and in the end he came to love them. I hope that eventually more and more people will come to do the same with their own demons of bigotry and hatred as well, whether it's in regards to homosexuals, Muslims, atheists, or minorities.
At least, that's what I tell myself when I read yet another hate-filled screed disguised as compassion, yet one more "scientific study" proving why They are different and evil, one more well-reasoned and morally bankrupt justification for why it's all right, really, to hate each other. I get depressed for a bit, and then I get thoughtful, and then I get pissed, and then I get peaceful. At the end of the day, all I have to really throw in the way of the bigotry is my life, simply led and honestly open.
I hope, one day, it's enough.
Monday, April 30, 2007
So Your Child Told You He or She Is An Atheist -- Now What?
What do you do if your child comes to you and tells you they've become an atheist?
Before I go on, I want to be sure you understand a few things.
First, I'm neither a parent nor a therapist; I'm just someone who has experienced a range of reactions from people I love about my atheism, and who has a strong desire to help families stay together whenever possible.
Second, every family is different; what I have to say here may or may not apply to your yours.
Finally, this is not a guide to how to get your child to reconvert back to your religion. It's not intended to be persuasive regarding any particular system of belief, it's just meant to address some of the natural concerns and questions parents of faith might have when their child tells them they're an atheist. Ultimately my goal would be to help families in this situation stay together, emotionally available to each other, and supportive of one another.
Having said that, here are some thoughts that might help you deal with this new revelation from your son or daughter.First Things First
So what do you do if you're religious and your child tells you that he or she is not? I imagine you're shocked, unsettled, and probably a bit angry. But you need to think very carefully about how this is going to affect your relationship with your child going forward. Decide quickly -- do you want to continue having a relationship with them, or is their atheism so painful to you that you cannot bear to deal with them? From that one decision everything else flows.
I'm going to assume that you do want to keep some sort of relationship with your child, or you wouldn't keep reading this. I want to say, therefore, that I applaud you for that; it takes courage and great strength of character to try and work through what must feel like such a fundamental rejection of what you stand for. I think -- no, I know -- it's worth it, though. This after all is your son or daughter, the little being you gave life to, who's shared your home for all these years. To throw all that away in response not to what they do but to what they think, would be a great tragedy.
Now that you've decided you want to figure out some way to live with this in your life, therefore, I'd like to address a few of the things that are probably racing through your mind.What Do They Even Mean By "I'm An Atheist"?
You're probably thinking of other belief systems that have a creed or a list of rules, some kind of organizing document that says "You have to adhere to all of these to be one of us." Atheism isn't like that, though; there isn't a group people sign up for and whose terms they agree to in order to call themselves an atheist. Atheism isn't a creed or a religion or even a philosophy, nothing so organized as that.
That's what it's not, but as for what it is -- well, it's simply a description, meaning "someone in whom no god-belief is present".
That's it.
In some ways it would be easier if there were a list of beliefs you could read to know where you stand with your child, if they were joining a new church that had a creed or a holy book you could research. But atheism's not that easy to pin down, because as I said it's just a description of an absence. You'd do as well asking what all people who don't collect stamps have in common.
Because atheism is a description and not a creed, we don't have any lists of beliefs or standards you have to agree to in order to join up. There's not even anything TO join, because we're not a club. We're not an organization.
That's why you'll see some atheists who say they want to stamp out all religion, and others who like religion very much, just not for them. Some will be immoral scumbags, and others will be among the very nicest, best people you'll ever meet. Some will be raging liberals and others will be staunch conservatives. Some will prefer living in big urban environments while others are happy in a trailer out in the middle of nowhere.
Without any kind of central tenets or dogma, you don't ever know quite what you're going to get with an atheist, which I suspect is part of what's so disturbing to religious people about them.
So what kind of an atheist is your child going to be? The honest answer is, they're probably not going to be that different from the young man or woman they've been all along.Are They Going To Stay an Atheist?
It's impossible to say at this point what destination your child's journey is ultimately going to arrive at. Think about the kids you've known in your church. Some of them start out all gangbusters, full of faith and fire, only to peter out quickly and return to whatever life they had before. Others burn quietly, but for longer, and become pillars of the community. Some join the church out of anger, or jealousy, or greed. Others join for fellowship, faith, or love.
Atheists aren't any different; we all arrive at our unbelief for a variety of different reasons. A blogger named Hank Fox once outlined four different types of atheists, and although I think his list would apply to lots of folks I think it's a good place to start setting your expectations. Here's his list, slightly edited for presentation:
As to what what your child's ultimate destiny is in terms of religious beliefs, it's hard to say. I think atheists of types 1 and 2 from the list above return to the faith of their childhood fairly often -- it's hard to stay that angry for very long. You're not dealing with a Type 3, or you wouldn't be reading this. If you've got a Type 4 on your hands, well, I have to be honest with you -- you're probably not going to get them back into your faith. Non-belief arrived at with careful deliberation and deep soul-searching is work honestly done and reluctantly surrendered. This type of atheist is also, however, in my opinion the most likely to end up leading a peaceful, fulfilling life. You might not feel like it now, but you should be proud of your child if they're a Type 4, because you raised a deep, careful, thoughtful person, and that's always good.Aren't Atheists Inherently Immoral? And Doesn't That Mean My Child Will Be, Too?
No, absolutely not! Regardless of why your child has come to atheism or how long they hold to it, atheists are just as likely as theists (a generic term for anyone who does hold a god-belief) to be moral or immoral, good or evil, upstanding or wicked. This study, for instance, clearly shows that there is no correlation between atheism and immoral behavior.
I know it seems counter-intuitive to you, but faith or its lack isn't a very good indicator of how moral or immoral someone is. I would bet if you think back on people you've known in your church, you can come up with examples of people who seemed very pious but who turned out to be just rotten. And I bet the opposite is true, too, that you can think of some who seemed like the worst Baptist/Catholic/Hindu or whatever you ever saw, only in the end they turned out to be just great, great people.
If you've raised a good kid, who knows how to love others and to treat them well, then you've got nothing to worry about in the morality department. Just like there are good and bad people in every church, there are good and bad atheists as well. Who your child is on the inside is far more important than what they think about god, in terms of their personal morality.But I Don't Want My Child Going to Hell!
I understand how painful that thought must be to you. From a religious perspective, though, I would encourage you to remember that the only one who decides who's going to hell and who isn't, is God. If you believe Him to be a truly merciful, loving god, then trust in Him to do right by your child. Don't put yourself over Him and substitute your judgement for His; trust that He'll do the best thing when the time comes.
If you want to keep a close relationship with your child, however, I wouldn't encourage you to take up this argument with him or her. An atheist doesn't believe in Hell, so at best this is an empty threat. At worst, it's likely going to drive your child even further away from you; Hell is one of the more common reasons atheists give for losing their faith in Christianity. The reasoning goes that no God who is all-loving would condemn someone to infinite, eternal torture for sins committed during a finite lifetime. Pushing that aspect of your faith to your child as a reason they should abandon atheism is likely going to have the exact opposite effect you're hoping for.What's the Best Way To Talk To My Child About This?
Getting angry when you talk about this is not going to be helpful. In the words of the Bible, "This man speaks harshly, Who can listen to his words?" It's important to try and stay calm and reasonable. That can be hard, especially if you think your son or daughter is telling you this just to hurt you. You may think this is a childish, silly position to take. You may be taken by an incredible urge to slap some sense into them.
Don't.
I can almost guarantee you that this decision or realization is not something your child has come to lightly. It's a serious matter, and deserves serious, adult attention. Talk to them, one person to another, and really listen to what they are telling you. This is your son or daughter; nothing about their belief system is going to change that. They love you, and you love them, and even though you might be furious with each other, don't lose sight of that.
I'm not suggesting you give up your beliefs or to say anything you don't honestly believe -- in fact, I'd say just the opposite. Be open and honest with them, and give them the chance to do the same.
Just remember that their atheism doesn't mean they've suddenly become evil. They're not joining a cult, or planning on ignoring all morality and law. They're just searching for answers, even as you are, trying to figure out what it all means and why they're here, what it is they're supposed to be doing with their lives. Tell them you love them, no matter what (even if you don't feel much like it at the moment, you know you do), and even though you think they're wrong it's not going to change that love.
Atheist or theist, Christian or Muslim, black or white, ultimately that's all any child wants from their parent, to be loved for who and what they are. You don't have to agree with their position, you don't have to condone it or celebrate it, but you do have to deal with it openly and honestly, and always with love.
If you want to continue having a relationship with your child, it's absolutely essential that you not belittle or harangue them. They're making an adult decision, you need to deal with them as an adult. Put yourself in their shoes, imagine how you would want someone to react if you were telling them about your faith for the first time. Your child deserves that same respect and openness.
Most importantly, don't lie to them. Don't say "I completely understand and everything's fine, I'm ecstatic for you" if you're not, in fact, fine and ecstatic with it. Say instead "I hope you understand that this is difficult for me to accept, because I love you and my faith is very important to me. It scares me to think of you not having the same faith I have. But I hear what you're saying and I'm going to try very hard to understand and accept that this is what you believe; it's your life, and I know you have to live it, no matter how I might feel about it personally. Regardless, even if I'm angry or upset or not really understanding right now, I love you and always will."So Now What Do I Do?
All you can do is love 'em. If you've raised them well, if you've loved them with all your heart, then they're going to turn out fine no matter what faith they end up with (even if it's no faith at all). Be open and honest with them. Keep the lines of communication open. You don't have to give their atheism your blessing, but try to express your feelings in a non-judgmental, non-condemnatory way. "You're going to hell but I love you anyway" is probably not the right approach, nor is "I'm sure this is just a phase and you'll grow out of it." Try something along the lines of "I love you no matter what, and although this isn't something I am happy about, ultimately your faith is your choice and I'm going to do my best to respect your decision."
It's all about honesty, love, and keeping the lines of communication open without being too judgmental or harsh.
And the fact is that there are millions of atheists all over the world living happy, fulfilling, moral, loving, complete lives. This may be the end of your religious hopes for them, but it most certainly isn't the end of your hopes for their moral, intellectual, and emotional well-being.
I hope this has been helpful for you. I want to repeat that I'm not a parent, nor a psychologist, so please take all of this as nothing more than what it is -- the perspective of just one guy, an atheist who has a love for kids and a genuine desire to help families stay together in love and support.
Families are precious gifts; please don't let the differences between your faith and theirs ruin that.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Hobbesian Friday: Hoover Dam Edition
©Universal Syndicate
My mom, my sisters, and I had taken a trip to Vegas, and we took a day to go see Hoover Dam. So we trundled into a rented van, and drove out along the Hoover Dam Expressway, to the sign that said "Hoover Dam This Way", along Hoover Dam Road, into a big parking garage that said "Hoover Dam Parking Garage", out through the elevator past "The Hoover Dam Gift Shop", to the top of the road passing on top of the dam itself, right by a big green sign saying "Welcome to Hoover Dam!", and my mother, standing on top of one of the largest man-made structures in history, with a gigantic reservoir of water on one hand and untold spans of concrete falling away to the river below on the other, says:
"So where's the dam?"
Saturday, April 07, 2007
A White Texas Easter
Yesterday it was sunny and grand. Today it's snowing.
In April.
In TEXAS!
Our uncle George took this photo of snow falling on Texas bluebonnets. It's a once in a lifetime kind of image, I think, and I thank him and Aunt Sharon for sharing it with us. 
Whether you're religious or not, the Easter holiday coming up on this suddenly frosty Sunday is a good time of year to think about renewals, rebirths, and second chances. And a late snow like this is also a good reminder to take nothing for granted -- even the early hopes and promise of spring, sometimes, can fall victim to an unforeseen frost. Enjoy every moment you're lucky enough to see and be ready to take whatever comes.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Hobbesian Friday: Kids Edition
(Copyright © Universal Syndicate)
Annie and I don't have kids of our own, and this causes some consternation among other people. Most people are too polite to just blurt out "Well why on earth not?", but a few hardy souls over the years have gone there. I'm tempted to give either a smart-alec response, like "Well we had a few, but then decided we didn't like them and got Angelina Jolie to take 'em off our hands." Or with something brutally tragic designed to make them back off, like "I lost my testicles in a bad tractor accident."
But mostly I try to be honest. The pat answer I've come up with at this point is as follows:
Being a parent is one of the most important jobs there is. It's so important that we feel if you're not 100% committed to it, if you don't want it more than you've ever wanted anything in your life, then you've no business taking the job in the first place. So far, we don't feel like we want it enough.
The full answer's more complicated than that, of course, but usually that satisfies most people. I imagine in the back of their minds they're thinking "I get it -- you're a selfish bastard." And that's true a little bit, probably. It's also true that the idea of being a parent is scary, and that we're both afraid of some of the trouble lurking in our respective gene pools (alcoholism, schizophrenia, depression, etc.). I think we were both also had some pretty rough spots growing up, and we don't want to visit that on any of our own kids.
But at the end of the day, it really does come down to what I said initially -- being a parent is the most important job in the world, and unless you're willing to treat it like that you don't have any business having kids. And we aren't willing to do that. I respect the hell out of people who do, but we're honest enough to admit that we're not in that group.
We like kids a lot, and love having our nephews and nieces and goddaughters over to visit. We just don't want kids, and we're pretty OK with that decision. Society wants to make it more complicated than that, I think largely due to an understandable fear that if that choice gets too socially acceptable, we'll somehow run out of people to keep civilization going.
To those people, all I can say is "I offered to get a dog instead, and Annie agreed."
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Almost Identical
On behalf of my brother Jimmy (who is easily one of my three favorite male siblings), I am happy to announce the birth to his step-daughter Chrisy of twin baby boys! They are the first twins in our extended family, so that's pretty cool, and of course we couldn't be happier for the whole clan. My brother reports that to be considered identical, twins have to share 9 antigens on a blood test and the boys only share 8. So technically they're fraternal twins, but they're as close to identical as fraternals can get!
Which reminds me of another Annieism, and the occasion is so perfect I can't help but tell it.
We were out with her brother and the young woman he was dating at the time. We'd not met the young lady before, so of course we set to grilling her during the drive to wherever we were going.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Annie asked.
"Just one, I have a twin brother," she said.
"Neat!" Annie said. "Are you identical twins?"
Pause. Pause.
"Well, except for the penis, yes."
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Heroes in Bertram
Over Thanksgiving this past year we had my new mother-in-law and her family out to the ranch for the big feast. They came from Seattle, Miami, and Hollywood, which was pretty amazing. Considering how much culture shock there is for me coming from Austin to Bertram every day, I can only imagine the kind of cognitive dissonance we unleashed on those poor people.
While combing through the hard drive I came across this photo John Lacy (the one from Hollywood) took of his son Luke, out in the pasture with the donkeys. I like the way the donkeys are standing in almost a herringbone pattern, and the way Luke's bright blue shirt stands out in the yellow grass.
The other cool thing about John (besides that he was a really nice guy and has a wonderful wife and kids) is that he's an actor (here's his IMDB entry), and shortly after coming out to the house he appeared in an episode of my favorite TV show, "Heroes"! I bet the donkeys were hoping they'd get invited for a guest appearance, but apparently Hollywood's got enough asses already to last a while. Oh well, they'll probably be just as happy eating grass.
The other great moment during the visit came from granddaughter, Allison, who's from Miami. She walked out the door after the sun went down, looked up into the sky and, with mouth agape, said "Where did all those stars come from?!" I hope John wasn't offended that she meant the ones in the heavens and not the one from Hollywood, but sometimes being out in Nerd Country has that affect on people.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Annieism: The Vision Thing
So I'm talking with Annie last night and she's telling me the various symptoms that can arise with hypothyroidism. After a bit the list runs down and we return to watching "American Idol". Suddenly she remembers one (or is it two?) and blurts out "Also, I have carpal tunnel vision!"
Now I know what carpal tunnel is, and I know what tunnel vision is, but for the life of me I don't know what carpal tunnel vision is. Can anyone help me out? I can't tell if she gets eye cramps or her hands only line up in one certain direction to the exclusion of all others ...
Monday, January 29, 2007
When the Blog Went Live
My father-in-law, George Phenix, is a bona fide Character in Texas. Right-hand man to one of the state's greatest senators, owner of countless local newspapers, recent past publisher of "Texas Weekly" (the go-to source for Texas Government news and gossip), and author of the book "When the News Went Live" about how news coverage of the JFK assassination changed the media forever, George is a treasure trove of stories and insight.
He's started his own blog now, and I'd encourage everyone to check it out. The address is http://www.blogofages.net and judging by the first post, I think we've got a winner on our hands. Head on over and say "howdy", you surely won't regret it.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Music
For some reason, it appears that every blogger feels the need to make posts about their musical preferences. I suspect it's because an awful lot of bloggers grew up reading "Rolling Stone", and now they fancy themselves musicographers. I mean, what the hell, once you're writing day after day of crap on subjects you're only peripherally knowledgeable about anyway, why not throw some musical stylings onto the steaming mess, right?
You will not find those kinds of posts on this blog, because I stopped listening to any new music released after 1978. And I listened to no music in my 9 years of life prior to 1978, either, so I'm pretty much out in the cold on this one.
Oh, I have an iPod, and I like listening to music (and sometimes singing along), but I don't have lists of "The ten most awesomest rock and roll drummers of all time", or detailed treatises ready to trip off my tongue about the sublime ecstasy of the ninth Rush album (did they even have nine albums? How the hell would I know?).
I suspect this is some kind of deep, moral failing, that there's a hole in my soul shaped like a clef that echoes with musical longing. Some people have lyrical hearts and can appreciate the amazing talent cascading out of their musical replay devices with soaring words and deep thoughts. Me, I just like what I like, and tend not to think too much about it, despite having a number of very talented relatives (Adam and Chris and Anna, I'm lookin' at you).
My other theory is that my brother Johnny and my sister Denise stole all the musical talent in the family, so by the time Child Number Seven rolled down the pike (that's me) (and I think referring to my mother's agony of childbirth as "rolling down the pike" is at least a venal sin) there just wasn't so much as a squeaky "C" note left for me. I like this theory, as it enables me to blame my family, which is always satisfying.
Another possibility is that I am very wrong about the existence of the Christian God, and He is smiting me for my blasphemy as a young boy. You see, I was standing in church, singing along to one of the hymns next to my brother Jimmy, who is one of the saintliest, nicest, most giving people in the world. He's really, really great, but let's just say that calling him "Tone deaf" is like claiming Helen Keller was "Visually Challenged". As I said, I was standing right next to him during the song while he was singing, and it just hit me like a Mack truck on the highway of life -- this was, arguably, the very worst rendition of a song I had ever heard. Anywhere. Granted I was only like twelve at the time, but when you're in the presence of an event of cosmic significance, you notice, no matter what your age.
So I did what any twelve year old boy would do -- I started laughing.
Apparently Rush DOES have a Ninth Album
He glanced over at me, and (exhibiting once again his almost Christ-like forbearance) simply said, "God gave me a croaker, I'm gonna croak!"
I might have zero musical ability, and my brother might be into negative numbers at this point, but he nailed the number one reason people make music and he exults in it -- to express joy, sorrow, hopes, dreams, all of the things that make life worth living.
Hmmm, maybe that's why bloggers write musical posts, come to think of it ...
Nah, they're definitely "Rolling Stone" wannabes. Now if I can just figure out a way to blame one of my other family members for that phenomenon too, I'll be in good shape.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Bob Tilton and the Farting Preacher Videos
Sometime in the mid to late 80's, my sister Donna and I used to sit up late at night watching this televangelist, Robert Tilton, come on TV. He was quite a performer, squinting and jumping and shouting, and the things he said -- oh my. We'd laugh so hard my parents would come out of their bedroom to see what in the hell was going on, thinking we were watching Saturday Night Live or David Letterman or possibly doing drugs -- that's the level of unintentional hilarity we're talking about here.
My favorite was when he'd stop his exhortation (I can't really call them sermons) right in the middle and squint up his eyes, holding up his hand and saying "I know Lord, I know, I'm tellin' 'em right now." Then he'd open his eyes, stare earnestly into the camera and say "That was the Lord Jesus Christ talkin' to me just now," as if he'd gotten Divine Call Waiting or something. We also loved it when he'd break into Tongues right in the middle of the telecast.
Jim Carey should've been taking notes, Tilton was that much of a comedic genius. The fact that he was absolutely serious about the whole thing just made it even funnier.
Some years later, while in college, I came into possession of a video tape of Tilton's greatest moments, all dubbed in with farting noises at opportune moments. I thought I would wet myself, I laughed so hard watching them. I'm talking full on, milk-spurting-out-your-nose, fall out of your chair hilarity. It was, no lie, the funniest thing I had ever seen at that point in my life, and mind you, I'd seen myself naked before.
I naturally loaned the tape to Donna in honor of our shared joy watching Tilton years before, and somewhere along the line the tapes were lost. I was heartbroken. But now, thanks to the wonder of the Internet and the glory of YouTube, I have found the videos once more and can share them with you here.
Without further ado, I bring you Robert Tilton, aka "The Farting Preacher". Even without the farting, you can see why we found him so funny. But, as usual, it's better with the farting. It's always better with the farting.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Et Tu, Nick?
I think it's fair to say that in the Deep South, where I grew up, football is more than just a sport. It's family, friendship, loyalty, roots, passion, religion, money, society, pride, and much, much more. Season tickets in some places are passed on in wills. My brother-in-law, as die-hard a Louisiana State University fan as you'll find anywhere, used to stop the car in Alabama so his kids could go to the bathroom there on their way back to Virginia. "If you're gonna leave it anywhere," he'd say, "leave it on the Crimson Tide." And this is a college educated lawyer we're talking about here. Suffice it to say, lots of people in Louisiana bleed purple and gold, LSU's colors.
Like I said, football is serious business. And in that family business, at least in Louisiana, there is no more revered a figure than Nick Saban. Coach Saban took the LSU Tigers to a national championship after years of disappointment under previous leadership. He restored the program to national prominence and brought pride to a city and school sorely in need of it.
When Saban was deciding whether or not to take the NFL's Miami Dolphins head coaching job two years ago, my family were on tenterhooks. It was Christmas time, but my brother hung on the radio and TV every moment, waiting to hear the decision. When it was announced that Coach was leaving, it felt like a member of the family was disowning his kin. Still, everyone wished him well, sincerely thanked him for the championship he'd done, and sent him on his way with fondness and love.
Until today, I suspect, because Nick Saban just announced he's leaving the Miami Dolphins to take the head coaching job at the University of Alabama, one of LSU's storied and most hated rivals.
I know it's just a business to the guys who are in the business, but damn, that smarts for those to whom it's so, so much more.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Holiday Annieisms
We're finally back from Baton Rouge and recovered (mostly -- cedar fever is killer). I thought you'd enjoy some of the memorable moments from our trip.
Annie (upon seeing that I had already changed into comfy pants): "I can't believe you got into your pants before I did!"
Me: Did you ever think of getting a pet, Mom?
Mom: I don't think I'd be a good home for a dog at this point. Maybe some day.
Me: How about a ferret?
Mom: No, I don't want a bird.
Me (dropping a kernel of dog food on the floor): Ooops!
Annie: Pick that up! That's how we get roaches, and monkeys!
As you can see, the zaniness runs in the family. How Annie caught it without actually being a blood relative is beyond me.
In any event, we had a great time. I definitely don't get to spend enough time with my family. One consequence of not believing in an afterlife is the corollary that this current life is our only shot at getting it right. For me, that means I need to spend more time with and on the people who matter most to me, something I've been dreadfully remiss about in the past.
My only excuse is trying to deal with that blasted monkey infestation. Those little buggers are hard to catch!
