My mom . . . a photoblog.

Two years after she was born (1918)

Two years before she died (1989)

Further comments are not necessary.

Random thoughts on a Saturday.

Politicians need to retire the phrase "blood and treasure." It's overused and a bit too cute.

I understand why people buy vanity license plates. I have a couple myself. But, hey folks, if you can't come up with something more than your three initials and her three initials, just get the regular numbers. Those plates just scream "I HAVE NO IMAGINATION." If you have plates like that, don't yell at me. Work on your creativity. You'll accomplish more.

Someone tried to correct me when I used the word "prettier" last week. He thought it should be "more pretty." I said no, the comparative form of the adverb pretty is prettier, the superlative form is prettiest, and I think my usage is more better.

I was at the mall today, and they were holding one of those kiddie pageants. You know the type - five and six-year-old little girls in frilly dresses and makeup. It was way too Jon-Benet for me. What are these mothers thinking?

The masseuse called Mary Kate Olson four times before calling 911? An obvious case of body temperature exceeding IQ.

I've been reading Greg Iles lately. In fact, after reading one book, I went to Amazon and used my birthday and Christmas gift cards (thanks, kids!) to buy everything he has published. I ride the express bus to work almost every day, and reading keeps me semi-sane. The problem with Iles is that I can't put his books down. Trite, but true. I guess part of the facsination is because Iles lives in Natchez, Mississipi. I love that town, and probably would live there if I could. It's not only a beautiful place, but my family has history there. My 5th great-grandfather was among a group of folks from the New York/New Jersey area who moved to Mississippi in 1773 and settled on an English land grant known as the Ogden Mandamus. Iles uses the area liberally in his stories, and my knowledge of the area bring the tales to life. If you like a good mystery read, pick up an Iles book. Turning angel is particularly good.

MILESTONE:

Today is our 45th wedding anniversary. We've actually been together a shade over 49 years. This first photo was taken near Kentucky Lake, well, more than a couple of weeks ago. We haven't changed much.




The second photo was taken at our hometown church. Well, HER church. She is Catholic. I'm Presbyterian.

The third photo was taken on Virginia's Eastern Shore near Cape Charles in September of 2007, Let's see . . . when did they invent color photography?

The Beach Boys

. . . back in the day.

Lisa's friend Melissa reminded me of this.

The Beach Boys were huge back when I was in college, around MCMLXI to MCMLXVIII. I even saw them in concert at the university. But, in the late 60's, I pretty much lost interest in them.

In MCMLXIX, Lisa's youngest brother was born. My mother flew to Omaha to take her and her other brother (no, not her other brother Darryl) back to our home town for a visit while the new baby settled in.

When they were boarding the airplane, my mom was struggling a bit trying to manage two small children, and a carry-on bag or two. My mom asked a young man in front of her if he would mind holding Lisa's hand while she went up the steps. His reply: "Sorry, it would be bad for my image."

You guessed it. The jerk was one of the Beach Boys. He's on the stairwell with the bushy hair and beard. Lisa and my mom are on the ground at the far right of the crowd .

Good vibrations, my ass . . .

I don't mind grocery shopping . . . really, I don't. Most of the time, I really do enjoy it. It's just that some shoppers drive me absolutely, completely insane. It seems to me that they believe that they're the only people of consequence in the store.

I realize that male shoppers have their foibles, but, since most of the thundering herd is composed of members of the female persuasion, women get the hit today. Nothing implied by the thundering herd descriptor, by the way. Don't read more into it. Or, if you do, perhaps some self-assessment is in order.

I wonder if other shoppers can see my little thought balloons?

Balloon 1: Lady? Excuse me, lady? Laydeeeee . . . If you would put your freakin' coupons down, you could use both hands to put your groceries on the conveyor. Or, perhaps you could hold the coupons in both hands and use your teeth. It couldn't be much slower, and it certainly would be more entertaining.

Balloon 2: Ma'am? I know you love to bring your doting husband and your three adorable children shopping with you. I also know, by the angelic expressions on their faces, there is nowhere else they would rather be. Unfortunately, with his basket behind your basket, and each of your charming offspring lined up with their "shopper in training" carts, you're blocking off - by actual measurement - at least a furlong of the meat cooler. While you're examining every package of boneless, organic, free-range chicken breasts on display, the steak, sausage, turkey, ham, salt pork, bacon, lunchmeat, soup bones, ribs, lamb, veal and back bacon are all in no-man's land. Can I just grab a pound of hamburger, please?

Balloon 3: Ma'am? Obviously, your eight-year old son is at the head of his class, a math prodigy, and destined to publish the Grand Unified Field Theory before he graduates from high school, but he doesn't seem to comprehend the self-checkout machine . . . and nether do you. Granted, I can't see very well from back here, seventh in line, but perhaps it might be more productive if you went to see Britney in lane 2 or Lindsay in lane 5, since: a) you have no clue about the machine, and b) there isn't enough room on the bagging shelf for the 45 items in your cart - let alone the 30-pound bag of cat litter.

Baloon 4: Miss? Oh, Miss? Since you just put the last of your 4,967 items on the conveyor, might you consider taking your checkbook or credit card out of that Chief Petty Officer's seabag you seem to be carrying as a purse? I assume it has dawned on you that eventually you may need to pay up. Or, perhaps you would rather look embarassed, and enlighten the ten of us behind you with " I know it's in here somewhere!!! "

eom

Retaliation is expected.

No, you wouldn't know him, but this man was my martial arts instructor for 20 years, and my friend for 35. I just learned from my daughter that he died from pancreatic cancer on 01 DEC 06. He was a bull of a man at 5-11 and 235, but one of the most gentle and friendly people I have ever had the distinct pleasure to meet.

Master Shin held a 9th dan in Taekwondo, an 8th dan in Judo and an 8th dan in Hapkido. I was Uke to his Tori in many demonstrations where he tossed me around like a rag doll, but he always let me down easy . . . well kind of easy.

I was a charter member and an instructor in his school in Omaha for 20 years. I watched his children grow up, and taught them myself. This master instructor, a Korean national champion, trusted at least some of the introduction of his children to HIS martial art to me. His daughter is now married, and a registered pharmacist. His son is now a 5th degree black belt, and outranks me - his old teacher.

Although martial arts, by their nature can be violent, violence did not define this man. While he could teach us to kill or maim with little effort, his prime directives were humility and respect.

It's funny, but the first thing I thought of when I heard of his death was not of him shattering concrete slabs with his bare hands, but of a brief moment when I introduced him to my father. As soon as "Mr. Shin, this is my father" left my lips, he bowed very deeply, then offered his hand and said "I'm honored to meet you Mr. --------."

Shortly after I attained Sam Dan (3rd degree black belt) Master Shin called me aside and gave me his old black belt, which is embroidered with "INSTRUCTOR SUK KI SHIN" on one end and "KOREA TAE KWON DO ASSOCIATION" over "KUK KI WON" on the other. I still have it, although I'm no longer training, and it hangs in a place of honor in my office at home.

Had I remained in Omaha, I would have studied with him to the end. Sadly, when I left Omaha, I could never find a teacher like Mr. Shin, and my formal instruction ended there. I sorely wish things had been different.

Ahnyong hee gaseyo, Shin kwan jang nim

Goodbye, my friend.

The 2007 bad English List - According to Reuters
(Somewhat modified, and with my annotations – jc)

A perfect storm: Numbingly applied to virtually any notable coincidence.

Webinar: Combines Web and Seminar. Belongs in the same school of non-thought that brought us e-anything and I-anything.

“X” is the new “Y”: Applied to everything from age to sex. (Chocolate is not the new sex. If it is to you, please seek help . . . and keep away from my Ghiradelli – jc)

Organic: Sagged under the weight of overuse. Applied to everything from computer software to dog food. (In the Navy, it means “within the Fleet”, so we still use it - jc)

Pop: Decorators need a new word when offering to add a touch of color. (Many of their ideas – at least on HGTV don’t “pop.” Puke may be more apropos.)

Post 9/11 and surge: “Surge” is now used to explain the expansion of anything.

Give back: Gives rise to the notion that as one’s life progresses, one accumulates a deficit balance with society which must be neutralized by charitable works or financial outlays. (Commonly used by celebrities trying to atone for a DUI or some other transgression. BTW, note the questionable use of “which” in a discussion about bad English – jc)

Back in the day: Too often applied to recent trends rather than historical events. (Also used by too many folks who aren’t old enough to have a “back in the day.”)

Random, sweet: Meaningless teen-age babble. (Usually with sweet spelled as suhweeet. The number of e’s used is generally random – jc)

It is what it is: Of course it is. What else could it be?

Emotional: Used by reporters to describe almost any event.

Decimate: Used by reporters when they mean “annihilate” or destroy,” not the true word’s meaning of “to lose a fraction.” (one-tenth, to be exact – jc)

Throw under the bus: Sports announcers need stop using this when assigning blame to a player. (If they don’t, the announcers should be thrown under the bus – jc)

Wordsmith: Simply because writers prefer to be called writers, I guess.

____________________________

Some of my own:

Begs the question: Constantly used instead of “raises the question.” Unfortunately the incorrect usage has now become the most common.

A Very Special Episode: Used (over-used, actually) to describe ANY television program that includes some emotional issue. (See “emotional” above.)

On the Nines: Or on the twos, or on the fives, or on the whatever-channel-number the TV station tries to tie programming to times.

That’s so 10 minutes ago: I think Cher said it in “Clueless.” Anyone who still uses it is obviously defined by the movie title.

What part of "NO" don’t you understand?: Come on. That’s so 10 minutes ago.

TomKat, Benifer, etc.: Puhleeeze, Lord, deliver us from all of these cutesy celebrity married couple names. Please.

Porsh: It’s PORSH-UH, not PORSH, you blithering idiot. That’s the way Dr. Porsche’s family pronounces it, and if you don’t, you’re showing your abysmal lack of IQ. Sorry to be blunt, but that’s the way it is. If I’ve offended you, please change your pronunciation. Don’t blame me for your lack of intelligence.


Must see TV: There isn’t any. Quit saying it until you have some – or until Giada De Laurentiis starts a program called “Everyday Naked Italian.” That’s as close as you can come to Must see TV.