I found this poem in one of my notebooks and couldn't remember if I ever published it and thought I might just place it here:
We love those and they pass from us
We offer up our very hearts but they crumble
Like the dried blooms of a Summer's rose.
We might contemplate some sense of eternity
In the fading of a smile in passing
But we will soon know better, we will feel the end
When our rememberance of the sweetest smile
Is confused forever with its exit,
For life lies in the flicker of a butterfly's wings
And the fleeting grace that we feel as we mount
The stairs at bedtime through the shades and shadows.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
A Saturday in town
Cindy decided that since this was her birthday weekend that she wanted to go to James Joyce, an Irish pub in Avondale, for brunch. Afterward, she wanted to go to Paris on Ponce, an antique store on Ponce de Leon in Atlanta. We got moving earlier than most Saturdays and headed over to McDonough, got some gas, then drove up 75 and 675 to 285 and Avondale. When we got to James Joyce, the crowd was small but they had a special deal for two which included a pitcher of bloody marys or a pitcher of mimosas. I convinced Cindy that a pitcher of bloody marys would be best and we waited for our breakfast. Breakfast was served and we sat down to eat and drink our bloody marys and iced tea. It was nice to sit out on the deck in front and eat a nice breakfast before we headed downtown to go antiqing.
The day was sunny and we got a little rain at the end of the day. On the way home, Cindy and I stopped at the Dekalb Farmer's Market. I was able to pick up some Staropramen, a Czech beer which is one of my favorites. We also picked up some Broadbent's bacon and some bakery goods and cheese. The Dekalb Farmer's Market is an amazing phenomena of a place. They have food items from around the world, bake their own bread, make their own sausage and have their own salad bar. Their wine and beer selection is pretty nice as well.
It has been a long time since we went to the Farmer's Market like that. We really didn't get much stuff this time. In the past, we have bought foodstuffs and vegetables and such and we have bought groceries for the entire week or longer. Tonight was just picking up some things we wanted. It was fun, but, man, that place is kept really cold.
Today was Ivor Gurney's birthday. Hooray for poets and musicians for Gloucestershire!
The day was sunny and we got a little rain at the end of the day. On the way home, Cindy and I stopped at the Dekalb Farmer's Market. I was able to pick up some Staropramen, a Czech beer which is one of my favorites. We also picked up some Broadbent's bacon and some bakery goods and cheese. The Dekalb Farmer's Market is an amazing phenomena of a place. They have food items from around the world, bake their own bread, make their own sausage and have their own salad bar. Their wine and beer selection is pretty nice as well.
It has been a long time since we went to the Farmer's Market like that. We really didn't get much stuff this time. In the past, we have bought foodstuffs and vegetables and such and we have bought groceries for the entire week or longer. Tonight was just picking up some things we wanted. It was fun, but, man, that place is kept really cold.
Today was Ivor Gurney's birthday. Hooray for poets and musicians for Gloucestershire!
Where I come from
This is a photo of a parish church in a little village in Wales, along the western boundaries of England. Presteigne is a small village and I was reading an article on the internet and discovered that apparently my family originated from this little village, many decades ago. Unfortunately, the other thing this town and the county or shire in which it is located is know for is that it apparently is the poorest county in Britian. There is no industry to speak of and I don't know what they do otherwise, but I suppose there was a reason why my ancient ancestors moved from there to Herefordshire and Gloucestershire. I'm sure they did better along the way, even if my ancestor got kicked out later and sent to Virginia.
Sometimes those bad turns lead to good things. I am sure Presteigne is charming, but I am glad to be an American with Welsh ancestory, rather than the other way around.
Friday, August 27, 2010
The olde days
Tonight was the beginning of high school football. I can see the lights glowing from every little town and village in America. I was thinking about the first Friday when I was an eighth grader at Peachtree High School. I don't remember who I went to the game with that night. I know the stands were full that night. It seemed like the whole school was there. The varsity football team wore red jerseys and white pants with red and blue stripes down the side. The white helmets with the patriots on the side. The band at halftime stretched across the entire field, in five yard increments, from goal line to goal line and from sideline to sideline. They had a big sound.
And the football team won and everyone seemed to be excited when it happened. Ironically, we played Peachtree in our first game when I was a senior at Dunwoody. And we wore the red jerseys, only this time we wore gold pants and red helmets with a gold wildcat on the side. And I remember looking up into the stands and it seemed like the entire football stadium was full of students and parents and brothers and sisters.
We won, 10-0. It was not an easy season, per se. We struggled with some games we shouldn't have, played at a higher level but lost to some good teams, and beat a couple of teams we weren't supposed to. Going into the last game, we were 5-4 and the sportswriter for the Decatur paper said there wasn't a chance we were going to have a winning record in our first season. He predicted we would lose to Chamblee by a sizeable margin.
At the beginning of the game, all the seniors were honorary co-captains. But Jeff Meadows and I were up front, meeting three out of four co-captains for Chamblee who also played with me in Pop Warner football for the Atlanta Colts. We smirked at each other as the official tossed the coin. We would meet again after the game on the sideline. I had just tackled Eddie Jackson in a big water puddle on the sidelines for the last play of the game. All of us were enjoying one more opportunity to be together and relive our past glories. My father was crying in the stands, unseen by me at the time.
At the end of the game, we had upset Chamblee 28-6. My favorite moment? A quarterback sack against Tommy Schreiber for a 32 yard loss. It was 3rd and 42 after that play. I chased him all over the field until he finally fell at my feet. I felt like a big cat on that play.
Later, I found out that my buddy, John Boswell, had been sitting on a sofa in his future wife's house, when the announcer on the television set showed a defensive play for Dunwoody and called my name. It was the beginning of a path of marriage and adult life for John and four more years of football and education for me.
Its funny how our lives tangle, disentangle and join again over the years. Sometimes it is a conscious effort on our parts. Sometimes it is just happenstance.
And the football team won and everyone seemed to be excited when it happened. Ironically, we played Peachtree in our first game when I was a senior at Dunwoody. And we wore the red jerseys, only this time we wore gold pants and red helmets with a gold wildcat on the side. And I remember looking up into the stands and it seemed like the entire football stadium was full of students and parents and brothers and sisters.
We won, 10-0. It was not an easy season, per se. We struggled with some games we shouldn't have, played at a higher level but lost to some good teams, and beat a couple of teams we weren't supposed to. Going into the last game, we were 5-4 and the sportswriter for the Decatur paper said there wasn't a chance we were going to have a winning record in our first season. He predicted we would lose to Chamblee by a sizeable margin.
At the beginning of the game, all the seniors were honorary co-captains. But Jeff Meadows and I were up front, meeting three out of four co-captains for Chamblee who also played with me in Pop Warner football for the Atlanta Colts. We smirked at each other as the official tossed the coin. We would meet again after the game on the sideline. I had just tackled Eddie Jackson in a big water puddle on the sidelines for the last play of the game. All of us were enjoying one more opportunity to be together and relive our past glories. My father was crying in the stands, unseen by me at the time.
At the end of the game, we had upset Chamblee 28-6. My favorite moment? A quarterback sack against Tommy Schreiber for a 32 yard loss. It was 3rd and 42 after that play. I chased him all over the field until he finally fell at my feet. I felt like a big cat on that play.
Later, I found out that my buddy, John Boswell, had been sitting on a sofa in his future wife's house, when the announcer on the television set showed a defensive play for Dunwoody and called my name. It was the beginning of a path of marriage and adult life for John and four more years of football and education for me.
Its funny how our lives tangle, disentangle and join again over the years. Sometimes it is a conscious effort on our parts. Sometimes it is just happenstance.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Closings, supper and the Phillies lose
I had two closings set up today and they were scheduled about an hour apart, but only one loan package came before I had to drive to Jackson for the first closing. That meant that I had a half hour to drive back to Griffin, download the package for the second and drive up to Mcdonough for the second closing. That actually meant that I was about an hour late for the closing.
When I got to the closing, the couple, with child, were quite delightful and very accomodating to my lateness. We sat outside and enjoyed a cool breeze which brought a strong hint of Autumn's coming. It was very nice.
After we ended the closing, I got back in my car and headed back to Griffin. Cindy was with our group at Spicy Thai for supper. Cindy had ordered my meal for me. I got to the restaurant in time to enjoy my meal with the latter part of the meals of the others. I drank a cold Thai beer and enjoyed the presence of the others. It wasn't quite as nice a ambiance as being at the Reahards, but that is a familiar, comfortable place now.
We got home after supper in time to watch Burn Notice and Royal Pains. I have court tomorrow morning and several meetings with clients throughout the day. I hope we can get this weekend so that Cindy has a good birthday weekend. I also want to make sure that I get the three or four matters handled before the end of the month.
The Phillies lost and the Braves don't play until tomorrow. High School football begins tomorrow and the Falcons play sometime this weekend.
I would like to spend some time with Cindy in an environment which is conducive to enjoyment and relaxation. We shall see.....
When I got to the closing, the couple, with child, were quite delightful and very accomodating to my lateness. We sat outside and enjoyed a cool breeze which brought a strong hint of Autumn's coming. It was very nice.
After we ended the closing, I got back in my car and headed back to Griffin. Cindy was with our group at Spicy Thai for supper. Cindy had ordered my meal for me. I got to the restaurant in time to enjoy my meal with the latter part of the meals of the others. I drank a cold Thai beer and enjoyed the presence of the others. It wasn't quite as nice a ambiance as being at the Reahards, but that is a familiar, comfortable place now.
We got home after supper in time to watch Burn Notice and Royal Pains. I have court tomorrow morning and several meetings with clients throughout the day. I hope we can get this weekend so that Cindy has a good birthday weekend. I also want to make sure that I get the three or four matters handled before the end of the month.
The Phillies lost and the Braves don't play until tomorrow. High School football begins tomorrow and the Falcons play sometime this weekend.
I would like to spend some time with Cindy in an environment which is conducive to enjoyment and relaxation. We shall see.....
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Looking forward to Fall
I would walk down the street if it wasn't so humid. Give me two weeks and it might be dry enough to walk down to the courthouse to run some errands or go get something to eat at one of the restaurants down town or buy some bottled water to replenish the stash in the mini-frig. Going from month to month has been a pain during the summer mainly because of the problems with the air-conditioning in my office.
I am looking forward to the cooler days when I can wear some flannel and tweeds. Oh, Hell. Today is Wednesday and its over. Tomorrow is Thursday. I like Thursdays. You can feel the end of the week, but it is not so much upon you that you feel like it is fleeting. I never feel like I have enough time. Cindy gave me a list of honey-do's which are quite daunting. I wish I had more time and inclination. This is where I am clearly not my father in law. If I was, the list would be about half way through at this point, with a plan and the materials for the balance.
I'd like to fish a bit. I'd like to go up with Bill to the property on the Chestatee and enjoy an afternoon under the shade of the trees along the river. I can't believe that there was so much time between the last time I had been on the property and the day we drove up to scatter Dad's ashes. And now there is another year gone and I really need to look over it and enjoy the view up and down the river.
It is getting to the point where the water will be cool enough for the fish to start biting. There is a lot of fun to do in the Fall. Football. Baseball playoffs. Raking leaves. Cool mornings. Cooler evenings, when the sun goes down early.
I remember one time when I took someone up to Helen in late October. We went to a restaurant and tried to get a table. We had to wait about an hour before our table was ready. While we waited, we sat on an outdoor nook and drank good German beer and watched the sun go down. It was getting cool by the time they seated us and it was chilly when I walked up to the top of a hill in town and climbed into a basket under a hot air balloon to be transported up into the air (on a tether) to watch the people down below and enjoy the sensation of weightlessness only a hot air balloon can provide. It was a fun afternoon and early evening.
I'd like to try that again. Late October. Pumpkins. Colorful leaves. Good cold beer. Ripe apples. Football on the television and radio. I love Fall.
I am looking forward to the cooler days when I can wear some flannel and tweeds. Oh, Hell. Today is Wednesday and its over. Tomorrow is Thursday. I like Thursdays. You can feel the end of the week, but it is not so much upon you that you feel like it is fleeting. I never feel like I have enough time. Cindy gave me a list of honey-do's which are quite daunting. I wish I had more time and inclination. This is where I am clearly not my father in law. If I was, the list would be about half way through at this point, with a plan and the materials for the balance.
I'd like to fish a bit. I'd like to go up with Bill to the property on the Chestatee and enjoy an afternoon under the shade of the trees along the river. I can't believe that there was so much time between the last time I had been on the property and the day we drove up to scatter Dad's ashes. And now there is another year gone and I really need to look over it and enjoy the view up and down the river.
It is getting to the point where the water will be cool enough for the fish to start biting. There is a lot of fun to do in the Fall. Football. Baseball playoffs. Raking leaves. Cool mornings. Cooler evenings, when the sun goes down early.
I remember one time when I took someone up to Helen in late October. We went to a restaurant and tried to get a table. We had to wait about an hour before our table was ready. While we waited, we sat on an outdoor nook and drank good German beer and watched the sun go down. It was getting cool by the time they seated us and it was chilly when I walked up to the top of a hill in town and climbed into a basket under a hot air balloon to be transported up into the air (on a tether) to watch the people down below and enjoy the sensation of weightlessness only a hot air balloon can provide. It was a fun afternoon and early evening.
I'd like to try that again. Late October. Pumpkins. Colorful leaves. Good cold beer. Ripe apples. Football on the television and radio. I love Fall.
What is football for?
In a moment of repose,this morning, between taking phone calls and writing letters to various potentates, justices and other legal scalawags, I took the opportunity to look up the 2010 football schedule for Presbyterian College, that little institution of higher education on the piedmont hills of western South Carolina. My intent was to look for a game for which I might take my daughter Kate to see her alma mater perform their talents at the football field at New Bailey. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the first three schools lined up to play the Blue Hose in 2010were, in order: Wake Forest, Clemson and the Citadel. I was a little shocked. Just a few years ago, Presbyterian was pleased to exist in a league of small parochial schools situated in the Carolinas, Georgia and Tennessee. This seemed such a perfect collection of little schools, all founded by faithful groups of Christians who chose to start a college for the preservation of their particular theology.
But apparently there were a large number of trustees and alumni of this small Presbyterian school who desired to see their little school playing among the larger universities who weekly raise large masses of money in order to show off their school colors and ultimately send their "students" to go play games and earn large amounts of cash in the NFL. This is considered such an accomplishment in this country that most organizations of higher education turn their backs on the usual goals of their institutions, so that these alumni and trustees can stay at home on a Saturday afternoon, safe and airconditioned, with a cooler of beer and a tray of cocktails by their easy chair, and watch their alma mater hawk beer and insurance and potato chips to the masses. This, indeed,seems to be the highest calling of our modern institutions of higher educations.
What they don't see are the years of struggle, evolution and "growing pains" when the caliber of athlete doesn't quite match up with the requirements of the competition. I have some experience in this regard. I remember trying to be competitive with teams like Bucknell, Davidson and others. There were many times when my courage was failing and I managed a sheepish stab at trying to stop some behemoth who was protected and guarded by other like behemoths, all of which were quite speedier than myself. I had never suffered such losses in my earlier days.
I understand. I am behind the times, or lost in some other philosophy, far off the beaten path of the common sense of the masses. And I admit it. I too appreciate the efforts of my darling bulldogs, dressed in their red and black uniforms every Saturday afternoon, fighting for me and the rest of us proud alumni, and for whatever pile of money and sponsors they might glean for the betterment of the administration. Even today, I have a catalog on my coffee table, dedicated to the proposition that one cannot have enough items of clothing in red, black and white, any combination thereof, stripes, patterns, and style, all with the obligatory "G" located somewhere on each item.
I wonder what the original trustees of the colony of Georgia would have thought if they could have looked forward into the future of their tiny little colony back in the 17th century. That little colony created as a buttress between the Carolinas and Spanish Florida, to provide a place of shelter and industry for the denizens of the poorhouses and workhouses of England? I guess I am too cynical in my thoughts because I assume that they would probably be proud of the acccomplishments of the great-great-great-great grandsons and granddaughters of their wards.
The more things change, I'm afraid, the more they remain the same.
But apparently there were a large number of trustees and alumni of this small Presbyterian school who desired to see their little school playing among the larger universities who weekly raise large masses of money in order to show off their school colors and ultimately send their "students" to go play games and earn large amounts of cash in the NFL. This is considered such an accomplishment in this country that most organizations of higher education turn their backs on the usual goals of their institutions, so that these alumni and trustees can stay at home on a Saturday afternoon, safe and airconditioned, with a cooler of beer and a tray of cocktails by their easy chair, and watch their alma mater hawk beer and insurance and potato chips to the masses. This, indeed,seems to be the highest calling of our modern institutions of higher educations.
What they don't see are the years of struggle, evolution and "growing pains" when the caliber of athlete doesn't quite match up with the requirements of the competition. I have some experience in this regard. I remember trying to be competitive with teams like Bucknell, Davidson and others. There were many times when my courage was failing and I managed a sheepish stab at trying to stop some behemoth who was protected and guarded by other like behemoths, all of which were quite speedier than myself. I had never suffered such losses in my earlier days.
I understand. I am behind the times, or lost in some other philosophy, far off the beaten path of the common sense of the masses. And I admit it. I too appreciate the efforts of my darling bulldogs, dressed in their red and black uniforms every Saturday afternoon, fighting for me and the rest of us proud alumni, and for whatever pile of money and sponsors they might glean for the betterment of the administration. Even today, I have a catalog on my coffee table, dedicated to the proposition that one cannot have enough items of clothing in red, black and white, any combination thereof, stripes, patterns, and style, all with the obligatory "G" located somewhere on each item.
I wonder what the original trustees of the colony of Georgia would have thought if they could have looked forward into the future of their tiny little colony back in the 17th century. That little colony created as a buttress between the Carolinas and Spanish Florida, to provide a place of shelter and industry for the denizens of the poorhouses and workhouses of England? I guess I am too cynical in my thoughts because I assume that they would probably be proud of the acccomplishments of the great-great-great-great grandsons and granddaughters of their wards.
The more things change, I'm afraid, the more they remain the same.
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