Author: deftone20@bellsouth.net

Strongest Woman I Know

  I believe in angels.  Sometimes it might be a supernatural presence that you feel with you.  These are hard to explain.  It’s difficult for an analytical thinker to reconcile something that is felt but not seen.  I just know I have felt it enough to accept the reality of it.  The other version is those that walk among us that are filled with a spirit we find remarkable.  We don’t know why but we are drawn to those people.  These kind of angels are few and far between.  But both tend to come along at just the right time.

My close friends know what Alicia went through two years ago.  We don’t talk about it much anymore because it brings some painful memories to the surface.  I’m going to just rip off that bandaid and put it out there.  We had been trying to get pregnant with our second child for a while.  Bailey had finally settled into a place we thought was perfect.  When we found out she was pregnant, we were both excited and scared at the same time.  As a parent, or pending parent, all you want is for your children to be healthy.  You may want a boy or girl but you really don’t care as long as everything goes smooth.  

Alicia has had a condition with her hip and leg since she was a baby.  She has seen multiple doctors and even had an exploratory surgery to try and repair it.  It’s never been resolved and she has always had to manage it with anti-inflammatory medication.  That’s a big no no when you are pregnant.  It didn’t take long for that issue to resurface.  She had the problem when she was pregnant with Bailey but this time around would be much worse.  I remember some happy times with the first pregnancy.  She had a constant glow about her even though she would sometimes be in pain with the leg.  She had baby showers and even planned my awesome 30th birthday while pregnant with Bailey.  During the second pregnancy, she spent the better part of seven months in pain, going to massages, getting injections, just trying to make it day to day.  Forget morning sickness, body image issues and everything else that comes with pregnancy.  This was not a problem.  The problem now was just making it day to day.  I recall a trip to the beach in June that started poorly and ended worse.  Alicia tried her best to make the most of that trip but wound up spending the majority of it in bed searching for relief.  That is a painful memory.  We tried to make the most of it and focused on the kids but Alicia couldn’t get through it.  There is a photo of me and Tara and Bailey as we were getting ready to go to the beach the first day and that is the only fun part I remember. 
 We would soon become regular visitors at Phoebe.  We made a total of 6 visits with at least 3 overnight stays.  Everything was a temporary fix and things just continued to deteriorate over time.  If you’ve never been through something like that as a spouse, let me tell you that it is a helpless and depressing feeling to see someone you love more than life itself suffer and not be able to do anything about it.  It was gut wrenching.  Anybody who has been through it knows what I’m saying.  Georgia was not due until September 9 but we found ourselves in the hospital again the last week of July.  Alicia was in misery.  She wasn’t even aware of what day it was or how long we had been in the hospital.  If I had to guess, I would say that she averaged an hour of sleep per night over the month of July.  One hospital trip, the doctors gave her ambien to help her sleep.  Instead of sleeping, she spent the night hallucinating about photo shoots.  I had to move the recliner I was sleeping in to the other side of the bed to keep her from getting up.  6+ months pregnant, no sleep in days, hooked to machinery and IV’s and trying to organize imaginary photo shoots don’t mix.  She would not recall any of it.  I wish it had been as funny as it sounds now.

The doctors thought they had figured out a combination of medications that would give her some form of relief for the remaining weeks we had left to get to a safe delivery date.  We were set to go home on August 2 as long as the meds continued to work taken by mouth instead of IV.  We never made it home that day as the pain returned as intense as ever.  What we didn’t realize at the time was that she was actually beginning to have contractions.  We were 5 weeks early and Baby G had decided that mommy had had enough.  Alicia spent that night in a state of shallow breathing and borderline psychosis.  This is according to her mom because as fate would have it, this was the one night in all the stays that I wasn’t there.  Because it was a Saturday and her mom sensed the last straws I was hanging onto, they sent me home about 11 to get a night of sleep.  I didn’t go to sleep until about 2 am.  I tossed and turned in bed with the TV on in the background.  Alicia even called me once to say that she was scared and we talked a minute.  Again, she never remembers calling.   Sometime in the early morning hours, the nurses started figuring out what  was really happening.  They immediately began prepping Alicia for delivery and called the dr.  Charlotte called me around 6am and told me I should get back up there.  I walked into a chaotic scene of nurses coming and going and my heart immediately began racing.  I remember Alicia staring at me at the foot of the bed as she was about to go back to the OR.  I was beyond frightened.  

Sometime during the delivery, Alicia stopped breathing on her own and had to be put on machines.  After what seemed like an eternity, the doc came out and told me that G was fine and was headed to NICU for observation due to the premature nature of the delivery.  Things did not go as well for Alicia.  She had suffered pulmonary adema and essentially began drowning from the inside out during the procedure.  She lost conciousness and was placed on a vent and moved to SICU.  It would be a few hours before I would get to see her.  She was in a medically induced coma and I was given a hard warning that things would not look good when I saw her.  Nothing could have prepared me for it.  At the moment I saw her, I didn’t know if I would ever see her awake again.  I broke right there.  I sat and cried as hard as I’ve ever cried.  20 years of memories all seemed to start flashing at once.  Things became hazy then.  I was a wreck when family was there by my side.  Couldn’t eat, couldn’t stop pacing.  I had to force myself to go to see G so she knew that we were there but I didn’t want to leave Alicia.  I remember our first SICU nurse was an old friend, Stacey Barnes.  I think she saw the pain in my eyes.  She came to me when her shift was over to let me know all of the positive signs they were seeing in Alicia.  To provide me some comfort.  I’ll never forget that.

When family left and I was alone with Alicia, I really began to question reality and what was going on around me.  I do know that out of all of the long nights at the hospital, that night was the longest.  I stared at monitors and listened to beeps and pings all night.  My mind was in shambles.  Early that next morning though I felt that supernatural feeling I was talking about in the opening paragraph.  I felt something reside in me that gave me a little strength once again.  I don’t know what triggered it or where it came from.  It told me that I needed to be strong and that Alicia was going to be ok.  I would soon realize that I would need that push as Alicia began to come back around.  She had no idea what was going on or what had happened.  She was slowly coming back to me and would begin communicating with hand holding and pointing to letters on a pad to put sentences together.  She wasn’t able to speak thanks to all of the tubes in place on her face and down her throat.  The doctors slowly backed the strength of the machine help she was getting as she got stronger.  The worst fear was easing.  I was communicating with her and was able to see her look at me again.

Over the next few days, I had to be her eyes and ears with the docs and with G.  She didn’t remember her meds, when they were needed, anything.  She didn’t even have all of the pieces of what happened yet.  To make matters worse, Bailey hadn’t seen her mother for 2 days and it was 3 days before Alicia laid eyes on G.  Bailey was able to see her little sister the day she was born.  I had a picture from that first visit and I kept it in the room with Alicia.  As she slowly came out of unconsciousness, she would ask to see the photo more and more.  Finally, with the help of a nurse and wheelchair, Alicia was able to go see Georgia.  It was only then that I would allow happy thoughts back into my mind.  That was supposed to have happened days before.  But it was still an emotional sight.   

 After several more days of testing and observing, they were finally ready to let her go home.  We spent about 2 weeks in the hospital during that event and even going home proved to be scary.  We had a new baby, a seven year old starting 2nd grade and now a wife and mother with a heart condition on 11 different meds.  She was scared to death to even go to sleep.  I knew Alicia had it the worst.  She was, after all, the one carrying the baby and the one in pain.  I was mentally and emotionally tired but it was hard to have any pity on myself.  What I did not consider was the toll it had taken on Bailey.  She missed her mom and dad.  She had spent a lot of nights at the grandparents.  While that can be fun, not being home, with mom and dad can get old.  And not seeing or talking to mom is even harder.  She fought hard too though.  Her first day of school was when we were in the hospital but she was there and got her day in.  It was the first time we didn’t walk her into school and wish her well.  She was also a big help to Alicia over the next couple of months.  Just because we were home, that didn’t mean that Alicia was released.  She was on a lot of medication, was unable to drive and was asked to live stress free for a while.  Bailey helped make that easier by doing what was necessary to help mommy.  She showed me a lot of strength during that time.

The months that followed were a blur.  Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years – all came and went and I remained checked out.  I was happy that I had my wife back and my baby was healthy.  I had learned a lot about Alicia during that time.  First and foremost,  she’s a fighter.  She could’ve given in to the pain many times but she fought and made sure she kept G’s health a top concern.  Getting home though did not mean a jump back into society.  I was able to go and do some of the things I enjoyed doing, but I remained mentally out of touch.  My life was consumed with medication reminders, side effects and blood pressure.  Everytime she moved her leg, I would immediately panic and think the pain was back and the doctors would not be able to do anything.  Everytime we checked her blood pressure, if it went up one point, I began worrying.  I spent a lot of time wondering about whether or not the heart condition would fully heal.  And as far as work, I was as good as unemployed during that time. If not for such a supportive group of co-workers like Mark Imes, Chris Cliett, Brent Davis, April James, Christie Donald, Mitchell Smith and countless others, I would have never been able to recover in my job.  I just wasn’t able to get back into the world outside of home and family and feel totally comfortable. The family was doing well but the fear of those months had a serious effect on me.  Once everything was over, then the gravity of it all pressed down on my mental health.  Life had a different purpose and meaning.  It would take more time and more willingness to reach out to others to get me back to normal.  And that was the goal, to bring life back to normal.

To be continued…..

Joey

Tank Man

I love my extended family.  I grew up with some of the best cousins a guy could ask for.  Coop, Corey, Jared, Dusty, Trent…..Mike and Ashley were younger but me and Mike get to spend a lot of time together in adulthood.  I’ve come close to ending Ashley’s life a couple of times but she is the only girl so what can I say?  I grew up idolizing my uncle Greg and still do in a lot of ways.  My Untee Ann and I have always had a lot in common, including our sense of humor.  Nancy and I have always loved the same movies.  Speedy was the best pony league baseball coach in Camilla Rec Ball history.  He wore the shortest shorts too.  Had a lot of great times with Bean and Sla too.  But the two men responsible for this whole crazy thing have always been at the top of my list.  My papa, Charles and my granddaddy, Grover.  For now, I’m going to focus on Grover.  Charles will get his own story too soon.

Grover Shiver was a one of a kind man.  I’m sure everyone’s grandfather is but this man was unlike anybody I’ve ever met.  First, I don’t recall meeting many people that didn’t like him.  I’m sure there were some because he didn’t mind telling it like it was.  He was stubborn, kind, tough, loving, funny, serious, all wrapped into one.  He kinda had to be with the kids he had around him.  I’m lucky to have ever met him at all based on the wild stories we heard about how our parents drove him nuts.  I think he got his revenge on them quite often though.

I may get some details of this one wrong but the meat is what it’s all about.  My dad and uncle speedy had bicycles that apparantly had no handlebar cushions.  Not a rarity in those days I understand.  They were no doubt just like most brothers who liked to antagonize each other.  One of them was riding the bike while the other decided it would be a good idea to chase the bike rider with a snake (could’ve been a dead chicken, I don’t remember).  One key part of the story is that Grover had a nice vehicle.  Nice.  Let’s just say the game got out of hand and the metal handle bars did not mesh well with the side of that car.  Not a recipe for a good time.  I think my dad said that’s the worst whoopin he’d ever gotten.  It was either that event or the time he and Speedy flooded the house.  Yeah.

Granddaddy had an awesome but rather twisted sense of humor.  He was always looking to prank somebody.  In his older days, it was hiding behind doors and in closets scaring the grandkids.  If I ever walked in and he wasn’t in his chair, I was on red alert.  My sonar was pinging like crazy.  It didn’t matter though because the hiding spot was always different.  He would even move his vehicle to the back of the house to make you think he wasn’t home if he knew you were coming.  He pulled out all of the stops.  I can still hear his deep bellows from some dark part of the house, inviting you to try to find him.  It was too much to resist and it always turned out scaring you even though you knew what was happening.  That was tame compared to some of the pranks he pulled on others.  Dad told me about 4 am water gun soakings as granddaddy would get ready to go to work.  He’d bust in the room and soak them down in their beds. The way Dewey likes to sleep, I would think that made them even for the car damage.

Another classic was the stuffed rattlesnake.  He drove a gas truck for a living and would carry this rattlesnake with him to scare people.  He would set the snake up in the floorboard of the truck and ask some attendant or tank worker to go get something out of the truck.  It was someone handpicked that was afraid of snakes I’m sure. The door would open and that rattlesnake would be staring eye to eye with them in a strike pose.  He’s lucky no one ever had a heart attack.  Others fell victim to his hot coins.  Most people know that it gets smoldering hot in our neck of the woods.  Cars are even hotter.  He would get out at the store he was hanging out at and place coins on the hood of his car.  Then he would go inside and wait for someone to see the coins and decide they wanted them.  It was always hot potato and he would be seen laughing.  That is one thing about all of his pranks.  He could not hide who was responsible.  The laugh always gave it away.

Even though he would give himself away with the pranks, he had an excellent poker face when it came to fibs.  He could have you believe almost anything.  Of course, a lot of times that would lead you to trying to do something you had no business doing and that would lead to the laugh.  His go to when we would be fishing was the monster catch.  His favorite fishing was bream fishing.  Everybody knows they don’t grow very big.  They are just small panfish.  Now there are big bream but the species is not large.  The big ones he called “titty bream” because you’d have to hold them against your chest to take them off of the hook.  It didn’t matter what size he would catch though, you would think he had a Marlin and it would take him about that long to pull it in.  He used bream busters well after rod and reels became popular and he would play with the same ole small fish on the pole while you caught three fish.  “Get the net” he would say.  I’m pretty sure Aesop had him in mind when he wrote “The Boy Who Cried Wolf.”

One of the coolest things for me was when he would let me shave him for a dollar.  He’d give me the electric razor and lean back in his chair and get me to shave him.  Looking back, he was quite the crude businessman.  One dollar saved him quite a bit over the years in comparison to a barber shop.  But to me at the time, I would have done it for free.  He would let us do a lot of what we thought were grown up things.  I remember him letting us drive around the neighborhood when we could barely reach the pedals.  I had a little bit of an advantage over the others because I lived right down the street.  I was off to his house almost daily.  I spent as much time there as I did my own house for many years.  We’d sit in that living room and watch the Braves, NASCAR, drag racing and fishing shows.  

He taught me a lot about life too.  They weren’t things that I picked up on immediately but there are things I do today that make me think of him and something he would do.  He did right.  He worked hard, took care of his family, loved his grandkids and kept his name in good standing.  He was a man of his word and people knew that.  He had friends across multiple generations and races.  He was a man’s man in every sense of the word.  He would work his tail off and would still have fun when it was over.  He owned a room with his laughter and jokes.  He was what I want to be everyday.

My dad is very similar to how my granddaddy was so I had double exposure.  I am thankful for that though because my girls never got the chance to meet my granddaddy.  But he lives on through Dewdah.  In June of 1997, grandaddy passed away after a brutal fight with Leukemia. He had some tough health issues later in life and it took a toll on him.  I watched that disease take away the prankster.  It wore him out.  I remember when he was in his bed the last few days.  The family was all gathered and spent time with him.  He had friends come and see him and he would light up and reminisce.  When they were gone, he would be spent.  I’m pretty sure he got to see everyone he wanted to see before it was time for him to go.  All of his kids stayed in his house the last night he was alive.  The grandkids stayed at mine.  We got the phone call in the middle of the night and went down to his house to say goodbye.  That is still the saddest time in my life I can remember.  He was such a strong man to me.  To all of us.  None of us were ready but he was.  The night after his funeral, I spent the night at his house and stayed up sitting in his chair and watching tv.  I guess that was my way of saying goodbye even though I didn’t realize it then.  I miss him a lot.  I think about him often.  When I go back to his house I imagine he is off in some dark room planning to scare me.  I loved that man!  My girls would have loved him.  And I know he would have loved them too.  

Joey

A Time For Forgiveness

  Even though Tecmo Super Bowl came along in 1991, the year wasn’t all good, all the time.  I debated on writing this one because I still have a little anger pent up about it.  I wrote a term paper on this subject in college and I thought that would be the grand demon exercising I needed.  Well, some 25 years later, I still think of it.  I don’t even know how I remember it so vividly.  Aside from the fact that me and my friends harped on it continuously, a lot of time has passed and a lot of good times replaced it.  Hell, the very next year was one of the greatest plays in Braves history.  But 1991…..I just can’t shake it.  Lonnie Freakin Smith will go with me to my grave.

Let me start by saying that I was raised on Atlanta Braves baseball.  We watched them every night, sometimes at supper, sometimes later when they were on the west coast.  But the Braves were on at the Shiver house religiously.  And they stunk!  For the first 14 years of my life, they were atrocious.  I have seen pictures of us at games from when I was too young to really remember details.  We were sitting right behind the dugout because you could probably pick any seat you wanted in those days. They had one superstar, Dale Murphy.  That was it.  Gerald Perry, Albert Hall, Claudell Washington, Glenn Hubbard, Bob Horner, Rafi Ramirez??  They were our boys but they were role players.  They were our home team though and were broadcast on national television thanks to the owner, Ted Turner, also owning a major television network, TBS.  The only other team I could see on a regular basis was the Cubs.  They didn’t have lights in there stadium in those days so they played all day games when they were at home.  I could only catch them right after school.  And guess what?  They stunk too.  Although, they actually had two superstars – André Dawson and Ryne Sandberg.  There was another tie in between the teams as well with Harry Carey being the broadcaster for the Cubbies and Skip Carey for the Braves.  

  The Braves finished dead last in 1990.  Nothing unusual.  The Reds won the World Series and they were loaded.  Chris Sabo, Eric Davis, Jose Rijo, Barry Larkin.  The Braves?  They had some young talent but it wasn’t enough.  But in 1991, something crazy happened.  The Atlanta Braves found themselves in a pennant race with the LA Dodgers.  It was spectacular.  With an offense that included young stars Ron Gant and David Justice and veterans Sid Bream, Otis Nixon and Terry Pendleton, they were exciting to watch.  But the pitching rotation was strong.  John Smoltz, Tom Glavine and Steve Avery anchored a staff that also included crafty veteran Old Uncle Charlie.  They were the poster child for the saying “Pitching wins championships.”  Those Braves went right down to the wire and edged the a Dodgers by one game the day before the end of the regular season to clinch the division and a playoff spot.  Playoffs?  Are we talking about Playoffs? 

 Something notable would happen in September of that year.  Starting centerfielder and stolen base leader (72 – still a Braves record), Otis Nixon, would be suspended for 60 days thanks to a failed drug test.  Cocaine is a helluva drug.  Because it happened in September, it was bye-bye playoffs for Otis.  We had a backup centerfielder that was pretty good named Deion Sanders but on August 1 of that year, he had to report to the Atlanta Falcons thanks to his dual sport ability.  With Otis and Deion unavailable, that crucial starting slot would be filled by Lonnie “Skates” Smith.  Now, to be clear, Lonnie was a very serviceable player.  He was an all star one year, a 3 time WS champ and had hit over .300 in ’89 and ’90.  But, he was nicknamed Skates for a reason.  He had a bit of a reputation for making some of the silliest looking plays you’d ever see.  He’d lose his footing enough to be compared to an outfielder playing on “skates.”  Not a comparison you want as a baseball player in my estimation. 

Lonnie performed well late in the season and was a key contributor to the playoff run.  Then, in the NLCS, he would contribute a paltry .250 avg.  He was a non factor in that series for the most part.  Something I wish he had been in the World Series.  Because we were such faithful Braves fans, the playoffs turned into party central at our house.  The entire family came over to watch the games.  There was food, baseball and, during boring stretches, a little basketball for me and Coop.  That is until Uncle Lee used the first thing he could find to the rear-end to discuss Adams report card.  That wound that up.  But the excitement for those games will go unmatched for me.  I get excited for games, especially UGA, but the whole family being together put this on another level.

That 1991 World Series between Atlanta and the Minnesota Twins was voted the greatest World Series ever by ESPN.  The seven game series finished with FIVE 1-run games, with four of them being decided in the last at bat and three of them going to extra innings.  The series was loaded with dominant pitching and clutch hitting.  Only one game was a blowout.  You want highlights?  This series provided some classics.  Game 2 was the infamous Ron Gant/Kent Hrbek pile up.  I don’t care what anyone says, to this day I know in my heart of hearts that Hrbek pulled Gant off of the base. 

 Twenty years later, Minnesota was still celebrating that act of cowardice with bobble heads. 

 Shameful…..Minnesota would win that game by 1 run to take a 2-0 lead in the series.  Atlanta would take the next 3 in Atlanta with Lonnie hitting 3 home runs and almost making a highlight play of his own at home plate but Brian Harper somehow miraculously hung on to the ball to keep the game alive at the time for Minny. 

 Minnesota would come back home and win game 6 with the heroics of Kirby Puckett’s extra innings home run.  Puckett was the lone Twin that I liked.  He was a great ball player and played the game the right way.  Unfortunately, he played for the Twins.  Those other guys were thugs.  Kent Hrbek, Dan Gladden, Gary Gaetti…..come on.

So here we are at Game 7.  Series is tied 3-3, the home team has won every game so far.  We have John Smoltz, who had been lights out in the playoffs facing Jack Morris, who had been even more lights out.  For 9 innings, these aces would duel each other masterfully.  At the end of 9, the score was tied 0-0.  It shouldn’t have been.  In all actuality, the game should have ended after 9 innings with the Braves winning 1-0 and taking the Series trophy back to Atlanta.  That’s where Skates steps in.  I can feel my heat rate going up.  In the top of the 8th, Lonnie was on 1st with nobody out and Terry Pendleton at the plate.  TP laces a shot to left center field that clearly was going to score Lonnie, who had solid wheels.  Wait, where is Lonnie?  He’s at 3rd?  What happened?  How?  The replays would show that Lonnie got deeked by that worm of a second baseman Chuck Knoblauch as he was approaching the turn.  Knoblauch faked a toss to 2nd, completely throwing Skates off of his game.  A bush league play in game 7 of the World Series just made our veteran look like a tool. 

 As the ball bounced off the wall, Skates stood motionless at 2nd base for almost 3 solid seconds.  That is a long time on the base path.  He was held up at 3rd.  No run, still 0-0.  Now, an argument can be made that any one of the following batters could have brought Lonnie in as there were no outs when this happened.  But no. I believe in momentum in sports.  We clearly lost it at that moment.  Gant, Justice and Bream were due up after Skates.  A ground out by Gant, an intentional walk to Justice and a double play by Bream sealed our fate.  The Twins would score in the 10th inning to win the World Series and complete the collective smashing of hearts across the south.  But it should have turned out different.  It shouldn’t have ended that way.  

The Braves would go on an unbelievable run of 14 consecutive division titles and multiple World Series appearances, eventually winning one in 1995.  But 1991 will stick in my mind as the one that got away.  There were so many opportunities in that series, it’s almost unfair to pick out just one.  But this one remains in my conciousness like the stench of an old baby bottle left in the car on a hot summer day.  Yeah, it makes me sick.  At times I feel bad for Skates because it turned out that he had his own demons.  I’m sure it isn’t the easiest thing to live with either.  But then I picture him standing still at 2nd base staring into the outfield and I lose all empathy.  I guess I’m selfish about the whole situation.  But we were so close.  So close Skates…..I need this more than you do but I forgive you Lonnie Smith.  What’s done is done.  I just had to get it off my chest one last time.

Joey

Ink Obsession

  How do you feel about tattoos?  That’s a question that could elicit a myriad of responses.  Over my 38 (so close to 39) years, they have gone from forbidden to subcultural to now just a normal part of culture.  As a young guy, I never imagined having any.  I didn’t really know many people that did except for relatives who had been in the military.  And those were mostly your standard issue anchors or swords or something.  I still don’t know another Shiver with a tattoo besides me or my brother.  Pam and Dewey raised a couple of hellions.  On the other hand, the Kelly side of the family has gotten all inked up over the years.  

My first tattoo was the ever popular barb wire when I was 21.  Talk about generic.  It was the act of getting one that was the big thing for me.  I had thought about it for a while and was pretty heavy into rock music where it was becoming a little more visible.  I was experimenting with various hair colors and styles so the time was ripe to check out tattoos.  This was 1998 when tattoos were not nearly as popular as they are now.  I went by myself, because Leslie bailed on me at the last minute, to American Horse on Broad Ave and took a look at the designs available in the various books.  That would be the first and last time I ever did that.  I was extremely unprepared.

From what I understood, Horse was an old school tattoo artist with a good reputation.  But I was nervous without a doubt.  There was a client in the chair when I got there so I waited in the front of the shop.  I heard some commotion while I waited and it made me a bit more anxious.  Then, without warning, the client comes out of the back, shirtless, with half of a panther on his chest, with what I could only guess were tears in his eyes.  This guy was rather large too.  My decision at that moment looked like one of the dumbest ever.  Could I back out at this point?  Could I possibly go through with it?  Horse came out with a smile on his face and said “Don’t worry about that guy.  He thought he was a badass.  I’ll go easy on you.” That was the moment that I learned my first lesson of the tattoo’d life.  The man with the tattoo machine is in control and he deserves your utmost respect and attention when your skin is in his hands.  

So I trusted him and I went through with it.  It was not the most pleasant thing I had ever done but it wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be.  There was something strangely enjoyable about it at the time.  I don’t know if it was because I was actually going through with it or if it was just the fact that I made it through without walking out.  The outer arm is not nearly as sensitive as the chest but I felt a nice sense of accomplishment by completing the sitting.  I was pleased with the way it turned out and couldn’t wait to update my wardrobe with new sleeveless shirts.  Again, I was 21 and it was my first tattoo.  Then came the aftercare.  I didn’t realize the transformation the skin would go through over the next couple of weeks.  It basically all died where the tattoo was and peeled away revealing the smooth finished product.  But I went through a lot of lotion during that 2 week period keeping it conditioned.  Also had to keep it out of the sun during the dead of summer.  The first tattoo was a weird experience and I remember so much about those first couple of weeks.  I remember the bathroom mirror I stood in front of at Princeton Place checking it out.  I can still see the young version of me taking it all in.  

I have learned a lot about tattoos since that first one.  I’ve learned that a lot of thought should go into the reason you are about to permanently alter your skin.  I’m now at 5 total, 6 if you count the one that now covers the barb wire I got so many years ago.  You wouldn’t even know I ever had it now unless you look at old pictures.  More and more thought goes into my tattoos every time I add one.  They may seem meaningless to some that see them but that isn’t the point.  I’ve learned that the tattoo isn’t for others to like or dislike.  It’s for me to give an image that I like some life or meaning on my body.  Would you be surprised if I told you that the Deftones inspired all but one of my tattoos?  While they may seem only Deftones related, each one has a deep meaning to me and help paint a picture of various times in my life that were pivotal in my growth.  Too cheesy and deep for you?  Well, that’s part of loving tattoos.  They better mean something or you’ll start questioning what the hell you are doing.  

As I began thinking about my second tattoo, I was researching shops more.  I found a shop that I felt could be a place I could return to over and over, The Tattoo Shop on Slappey Blvd.  And I found an artist that could help take my thoughts of those Deftones images and make them unique to my skin.  That artist was Stan Getek.  He has now tattooed me 5 times and will be the only person to tattoo me unless he retires before I’m done.  I have a shop and an artist that I know will take care of me.  All of that is part of what I have learned since that first sitting.  When you get a tattoo, you are making a lifetime investment so you better be comfortable and trust the person doing it.  

My second tattoo was the white pony and star on my back.  A bit of evolution from the generic barb wire from my first visit.  The Deftones were now a part of me and I was showing the world that.  The pony and star have multiple meanings in culture but for me, it has always represented freedom.  The wild nature of the horse bolting through the star.  For the time I got it, it represented where I was at in life.  The next tattoo was a family tree after Bailey was born on the arm opposite the barb wire.  A large oak tree with individual carvings in the trunk to represent me, Alicia and Bailey.  I am currently working on the image to be added for Georgia to complete the family image.

After the third one, I realized that the experience I was enjoying was more than the tattoo.  There were so many senses in motion during the process.  I have made my love of music known in this forum and Stan has very good taste in that department and pumps music during the session.  He is a quiet man but when the tattoo is in process, the room is filled with the sound of rock/punk music and the steady buzzing of the tattoo needles.  It’s a sound that is very soothing to me.  It’s as relaxed as you can possibly be while needles are popping your skin.  Then there are the smells.  Sounds crazy but it’s real.  The smell I remember each time is that of clean metal and the antiseptics that are used during the entire process.  I don’t know what all of it is, but the smells are very distinct and I’ve become somewhat addicted to the entire setting.  Lastly, the feeling of the process.  I can’t explain what it feels like.  Does it hurt?  I’d say yes.  Is it agony?  No.  It’s a very strange sensation that you only understand when you feel it. Two of the last three tattoos I have gotten have been longer sessions and eventually, the skin just relents and tells you that it’s had enough. But until then, it’s really a feeling that is a calming pain.  

As I realized that I was becoming addicted to the process, I decided to begin exploring a cover up to the barb wire.  It was time to leave that one in the past and expand on the growing story on my skin.  The skull and roses were large and colorful and was able to blend right over the barb wire.  This was also a time in my life where depression was a constant and the skull was able to represent those feelings of hopelessness and fear.  The roses were the love that I felt around me from family and friends that kept me motivated to dig out of the dark phase I was in.  It is the largest and most colorful tattoo I have, which is fitting for what was likely the most volatile time of my life so far.  As I came out of that period, the next tattoo formed rather easily because of an image that was stuck in my head over the previous years.  The problem was that I was running out of space.  Working in a professional environment is not conducive to the tattoo enthusiast.

Stan recommended the location for the bandaged deer to be on the chest.  I immediately had flashbacks to my trip to American Horse.  But by this time, my faith in my artist trumped those fuzzy memories.  I went through with it and it was actually one of the least painful tattoos I have gotten.  The symbolism of the two deer bandaged but intertwined represented Alicia staying true and by my side through the dark depression times.  Although we were both worn out and bruised, the love was as strong as ever.

My most recent tattoo is probably my favorite in a visual sense.  The owl on my inner arm was also the most painful.  It was truly a test of my will to make it through that one.  There are more sensitive areas than the inner arm but I don’t have any tattoos in those places.  The ribs are supposed to be the worst but that won’t happen unless I have completely exhausted the rest of my skin.  The finished product was worth every second of the process.  Stan created this owl from a few conversations we had and a couple of looks at various Deftones images.  It is truly unique and to me represents the time I have been able to once again spread my wings and use the knowledge I’ve gained over the years to keep pushing along the right path.

My next one has already been developed in my mind and Stan has been given notice.  It will happen sometime before the summer and will embody yet another phase of my life.  I wish I could get it tomorrow but the timing has to be right.  That first trip to American Horse was rushed and not well planned.  Each of my tattoos have become more complex and meaningful and take more than just getting in the car and driving to the shop.  This may all sound corny to most of you but it means something to me.  I’m not an artist but I am able to have someone else take my thought process and give it a heartbeat.  

A lot of time has passed since that first tattoo.  My body, mind and soul has changed over that time and I am positive the tattoos I have gotten over the years have told the story of those changes.  Hopefully, I will have many more to look forward to but for now, the next one is the most important.  This is by far the most personal post I have made but that’s what each one is to me.  A personal story being told over years of change and growth.  And it’s almost time for the next chapter.

Joey

A Legendary Tale

  I remember the first time I fell in love.  It was actually the day after first feeling painful heartbreak.  All I wanted for Christmas that year was a Nintendo.  Coop had one, Corey and Jared had one.  I wanted one.  Christmas Eve is always when we celebrate with my Papa.  We had it at our house that particular year and as the festivities were dying down, discussion among the kids turned to what they hoped Santa was dropping off overnight.  As visions of “Crossfire” danced in Coop’s head, I was mentally rearranging my room to perfectly house that electronic dreamboat.  As the final guests left, Dewey dropped the bomb on me that Nintendo was likely not in the cards.  Devastation, call Santa and tell him not to bother.  He could just drop off Chase’s sweet bolo tie and cowboy hat and hit the road.

Alas, my old man had set me up.  That sweet piece of technology was front and center the next morning as I stumbled into the living room.  Looking back, I understand why the let down had to happen the night before.  I had all but accepted that I was getting one and there would be no fun in that for my folks.  Back then, they videoed our reactions as we entered the room to see our gifts and that year I let out a boisterous “Ninnn” and didn’t finish the word.  Don’t worry, Chase got the cowboy hat too. 

 Thus began my lifelong love affair with video games.  I still play them today.  I just put the controller down from another session of Fallout 4.  Games have come a long way since that Christmas.  Now there are ever expanding storylines, open worlds to explore and graphics that make you think you are watching a movie.  Groundbreaking stuff I tell you.  Perhaps the first groundbreaker though was a game that is what I can only describe as the most amazing game of all time.  Super Mario was fun, RBI was a classic and I always had a great time battling Uncle Speedy and Greg with the Bash Brothers, Lego my Gallego and Walt “Three Blind” Weiss.  But in 1991, the video game industry was turned on its head with the introduction of Tecmo Super Bowl “TSB”.  

TSB was the first sports game that had all of the NFL players (well, almost – more on that in a minute) and allowed you to play an entire season while keeping stats and setting up playoffs and a Super Bowl.  It’s not the first time stats had been involved in a video game but it was definitely a much easier process.  Prior to that, Jim and Rusty and I had played various seasons of RBI Baseball 3 with us keeping stats ourselves over the course of battle.  This time, the game kept it for you and saved it, provided you held down reset while powering off.  Tecmo Bowl (minus the “Super”) preceded TSB but didn’t have all of the teams and didn’t keep stats over time.  This game introduced a whole new way to play video games.  My buddies and I became stat junkies and began trying to one up each other on a daily basis.

For me, there was only one team on TSB back in my younger days.  That was the Buffalo Bills.  I loved them, despite their inability to win the big one.  I made sure that I won it for them over and over on TSB.  They had it all.  The stout defense included Bruce Smith, Cornelius Bennett, Daryll Talley and Little Man Nate Odomes.  Then the offense was high powered with Thurman Thomas, James Lofton, Andre Reed and QB Bills.  Ah, “almost” all of the NFL players.  The game lacked 4 official NFL’ers.  QB Bills was Jim Kelly, QB Eagles was Randall Cunningham and QB Browns was Bernie Kosar.  There was some issue with a new licensing group called NFL Quarterback Club and the NLFPA that disallowed their names from being used.  Their attributes were the same as their real life personas though so we all knew who they were.  The fourth player not included was a biggie too.  Eric Dickerson was not included on the Colts due to a contract squabble and I wager that they would have been quite the team with Jeff George and Dickerson but it was not to be.

I became quite the player, in my opinion, with the Bills and was able to dispatch most opponents with relative ease.  I recall the first time Coop almost took me down with Philly.  QB Eagles was a difficult weapon to stop.  He was one of the fastest offensive players on the game and he was a QB.  The ultimate run/pass option.  If you wanted to beat this guy, you better be prepared to put up 60 points.  Coop battled hard that day but he was ultimately bit by an ugly facet of the game.  In what would later be dubbed “Self Preservation”, the game had a way of sensing when someone was on the cusp of ultimate joy and it would pounce.  Late in the game, Coop was trailing by a slim margin when Reggie White, The Minister of Defense, smashed QB Bills causing a fumble.  White picked it up and Coop began the cheer “Go Reggie, Go Reggie!”  Thurman Thomas chased him down and White promptly fumbled it back to the Bills as the cheer turned to a cry of desperation “Noooo Reggie!”  Bills win! 

 I spread my teams out a little more over the years but I’ve always had my favorites.  The Bills, Lions (Barry Sanders), Chiefs and Bengals have remained go to teams.  I still recall David Fulcher and the Bengals putting Byron’s Chicago Bears in their place as he tried to take down the champ.  Though I rarely used the Raiders, the greatest player in TSB history, without a doubt, was Bo Jackson.  Epic YouTube videos are available that show the sheer dominance one 8 bit player was able to inflict on the video game world.  It’s the stuff of legends.  There is one video in which a player takes Bo, runs the length of the field, turns back right before he scores, runs back the length of the field and then turns one more time to score what is essentially a 300 yard TD.  The game could have been called “Bo Jackson’s Tecmo Super Bowl” and there would have been no arguments.  Besides Barry Sanders, there wasn’t even anyone close to his ability.  Christian Okoye had a shot but was injured too often in the game and was always one self preservation play away from a controller toss.  There are still T shirts being made in 2016 in their honor. 

 Speaking of 2016, the game remains so popular that clothing is not the only merchandise that still pops up.  The masters at Tecmobowlers.com updated the original game on NES to bring fans TSB 16 with fully updated rosters but the same old gameplay.  Like a true dork, I bought it right up and rotate playing that and the old one on my classic NES.  It’s truly the only game that holds up in my opinion.  It has replay value out the wazoo.  It has been called the greatest video game of all time by major video game publications and to this day is the standard bearer for football video games.  It brought out the best and worst of my generation and still has its own annual tournament in Madison, Wisconsin each year.  This years tourney is Feb 20 and I would love to go but just don’t have the proper time to prepare.  Entry fee is only $40 but the experience would be once in a lifetime.  It would so be worth the thumb callous that would be sure to follow.

From “Go Reggie” to “Self Preservation” to the most famous scream in TSB history, “PLAY ME!!”, the game left its mark on my youth.  By the way, “PLAY ME!!” immediately followed one of the most egregious forms of “Self Preservation” in TSB history and ended with a head butt to the closet door, all at 3am.  Never has a video game been so triumphant and emasculating at the same time.  Today’s kids can have their Madden and NCAA football.  They will never know the feeling of winning a super bowl with only 8 plays in your arsenal and no way to audible in and out of poorly timed pre snap movement.  If I didn’t think Alicia would kill me for waking her up, I’d get a game in right now.  I’m proud to say I’m a Tecmo Bowler and will die one.  Hopefully they will play the TSB injury music at my funeral. 

 You may be wondering if Coop got Crossfire that year.  He did and he wound up with stitches.  What a Christmas!

Inner Monologue

  
Do you ever stop and wonder what your destiny is?  I believe in fate.  I believe in karma.  I believe that all of our actions are essential to the events that have yet to unfold.  I don’t think I always stop and consider it when I take an action but I believe in the effects that are caused by that action.  Every day, we have a chance, or a choice if you will, to alter our future.  We can create our own destiny.  Some days are better than others and some days make us question what “this” is all for.  “This” is a broad generalization of life and our individual purpose.  I haven’t quite figured out mine and I don’t know when or if I ever will.

The Butterfly Effect is a very interesting concept to me.  The idea that the flap of a butterfly’s wings could cause a hurricane in some distant time and place.  It’s a concept that you can probably use to trace your current position in life back to various decisions you’ve made in the past.  It is rational when thinking backward but it doesn’t seem to possess the same power when thinking forward.  It’s hard to intentionally make a decision today and understand the full payoff in the future.  You can make what you think are the right decisions and hope for future benefits but the right decision today may not be the right decision in the future.  So what are we to do?

The common sense thing to do is to make the best decision in the present and let it play out.  And to me, that’s what “this” is all about –  Letting life play out by making what we think are sound decisions in the here and now.  Sounds logical, rational and pretty unoriginal.  I’m not intending to break ground with that statement. I’m actually reminding myself on a day, when things went every way but the way I wanted, that the decisions I made to get here were sound when I made them before today.  That’s a very difficult thought to force into your head when things aren’t going well.  The natural thoughts are, “what did I do to deserve this?”, “how do I overcome this?” And sometimes even “are you shitting me with this?”  It’s almost insane to tell yourself, “let this play out and see what happens.”

That really seems to be the play though, in my mind.  Don’t misread that to mean that we shouldn’t make amends or correct mistakes.  Standing up and saying you were wrong about something is showing true humility and a desire to get better.  It also makes sense though to flap your wings again in an effort to create a new effect.  Turn your focus away from the negativity going on and find something positive to latch onto.  Sometimes that means closing the door on something or someone that doesn’t seem to be providing you with the fulfillment you need. That’s when you have a choice to alter your destiny.  It’s almost never easy but almost always necessary.  These are no doubt the moments that ripple throughout your life.

In those moments, it then becomes a time to rely on your own belief system, whatever that may be, to help you make those decisions.  No matter what that belief system is, know that your heart is always true to itself.  It will tell you all you need to know if you quiet your mind and listen.  In your darkest hour, that is your mightiest struggle, quieting the mind.  But it is the key.  I don’t know where tomorrow will take me or what my purpose is on this earth.  If I knew, the decisions would be easy.  What I do know is that I will serve a purpose.

So tonight I lay down with the following in my head, “You woke up thinking it was a normal day but it didn’t go as well as you had planned.  In fact, it was a pretty crappy day.  Realize that there are some choices to make.  It’s time to make the choices and then, if you’re lucky enough, you wake up tomorrow and let it play out.”

TBT – South Georgia Sticks

  
This time of year is when I start gearing up for another softball season.  Mighty SOTC will be prepping for another run at a Sherwood title in the spring and my new coed squad South Ga Wreckn Crew gets started this Saturday in the first tourney of our quest for the SCSA Rings.  I know my days as a softball player are numbered.  It gets harder to get ready and takes longer to recover every year.  Aches and pains have become all too familiar and my reaction time is even slower than it used to be.  When I do hang up the cleats though, there will be a million memories I’ll have for the rest of my life.

I guess around eight years ago about this time, I was getting ready to embark on the softball journey of my life.  The South Georia Sticks, brainchild of Adam Saint, was getting ready to hit the field for their first full season of tournament play.  A rag tag group of guys from Americus and Albany, these guys would become my softball family in every sense.  Clem and I had been invited to fill some spots the year before and had earned a permanent spot, along with Graham.  Up to that point, it had all been city league ball so the tourney circuit was a new experience.  And what an experience it was.

Over the next 7 months, we would play almost every weekend.  It started out rough as we scraped and clawed for wins and for respect.  Our tourney home was Macon and most teams had some knowledge of each other except for us that first year.  We were outsiders and that really brought us close as a team.  We would spend Friday evenings before a tourney eating Roman Oven and hanging at Saint’s house going over the previous tourney and planning for the next.  It really felt important at the time.  Unfortunately, our fun that first year was mostly off the field.  It usually takes some time for guys who’ve never played with each other to get a feel for it and gel.

Those next couple of years we would really start to pull it together and we built ourselves a solid reputation as a tough team that played the right way and didn’t fall into the mind trap that adult softball can become.  We had savvy veterans of the game and life and were able to keep our heads about us.  Travis Bishop and Jeff Hall were our outfield leaders and kept Wagon Wheel, Sleepy, Ray, Bobby, Sweet Meat, Burgess, David and several others on point.  The outfield was fast and very athletic.  Good arms too, for the most part.  One of the greatest lines I’ve ever heard from an umpire came at the expense of one of our outfielders and I won’t mention Scott by name.  He wound up and fired one in on a tag up and the umpire exclaimed, “I’ve seen better arms on a rocking chair.”  Now, he really did have a good arm but this was not one of his better throws.  But that line laid all of us out and comes up from time to time still today.    

 The infield was defensively sound. Clem and Stoney were our original 3 baggers and eventually Alex Denney took over when CJ turned to soccer and Stoney got bumped up to B Class.  I can tell you that I have never seen a third baseman as fearless as Alex.  It didn’t matter the competition or the circumstances, he was in the face of the hitter and begging them to come his way.  Third base is not for the faint of heart in softball.  Trust me, I play it now in coed and I fear for my life every inning.  Colby held down SS after several experiments at the position.  You have to have a lot of tools to play that position and Colby was all world.  The right side was reminiscent of the Bagwell/Biggio days with me and Saint.  Saint could catch three balls thrown to him at the same time at first.  We went through pitchers like underwear but had several great ones along the way.  Graham, EB22 and Goot were studs who all kept it in the strike zone and contributed with the stick.  We had several others and I’m not leaving anybody out on purpose.  It was just a volatile position.  Lastly, Woo and Drex headlined the backstop position and handled it well.  Woo was probably one of the most improved players I saw from the first tourney to our last.  Drex’s most significant contributions included Rascal Flatts covers in the dugout for Sleepy’s benefit.  So many memories were made on those Saturday’s.  Sleepy was born and I have at least 7 pictures on Facebook of Jeff asleep to prove it. Travis learned how to “shoot em” from left center.  Big D, No E became the rally chant thanks to Woo.  Constant bickering between Stoney and Saint was routine as Saint would beg him to mix in a strike from time to time.  Colby turned into Troy Tulowitzki and wowed us with his glove work.  O’Charley’s was the destination for all 0-2 tourneys and it somehow made the day a little better.  Good times!

We had a pretty good run.  We were able to get a few tourney wins, a solid ranking in the standings, and generally became one of the more respected teams in our class.  We even took down the big boys on occasion.  But as our 5th season rolled around, we had peaked and our steam began to run out.  Travis tore an ACL in an offseason basketball game, a clear contract violation.  Stoney got the call to the big leagues.  Some of our kids were getting old enough to be participating in their own sporting events on Saturdays.  Guys moved, got married, retired.  Even USSSA in Macon had fallen apart and NSA was the new classification.  The writing was on the wall and it was time to call it.  We all still played on occasion but the grind of multiple Saturday’s a month had taken their toll.  What we’re left with are some great memories with some great friends.  Some of us have remained good friends.  Several of us remain in a fantasy football league together, play golf, go to football games and take unscrupulous shots at each other on social media.  I would have never met most of those guys if not for softball.  That’s been one of the effects of the game that I have been most touched by.  The people I’ve met.  Most of my closest friends are softball friends.  Me and CJ played it for years.  It’s how I met Petey.  SOTC is like family.  Z is one of the most precious souls in my life.  Softball has given me a lot.  My days may be numbered but The Sticks will live forever!
Joey

Pet Peeves

  
I am going to tiptoe into the waters of contention.  We all have pet peeves.  Some of these are even habits or ticks of our loved ones. It doesn’t mean that we love them any less.  It just means that they can piss us off from time to time by getting on our nerves.  Odds are, you will agree with a vast majority of these.  But then again, there is bound to be one that makes you think, “Is he talking about me?”  The answer is no.  I just think it’s time to publicly talk about some of these personal annoyances.  I’ll preface this entire post with the following disclaimer:

“These are my views and mine only.  Some of my friends and family may be guilty of these.  I know that I have been guilty of some of them in the past.  This is not a call out post nor is it driven by anyone in particular or anything that has happened recently.  Feel free to hate everything I do.  It’s a free country (for now) and you are entitled.  I love you all and I am having fun with this.”

And with that, let’s get started.  These are in no particular order.

  • Parking in handicap spaces when you are not handicap – Ok, so this first one is probably on all of our lists.  It’s not just a pet peeve but illegal.  It’s an obvious one right?  Well, why do so many people get away with it?  The fire lane too for that matter.  A quick drop off and pick up in the fire lane is one thing but I have seen people park in the fire lane and go in and shop.  If it’s too small of an issue for the police to worry about, maybe the citizens should handle it. Who remembers the Seinfeld episode where George parked in the handicap spot and the other shoppers destroyed his car?  Is anybody running on that platform in the upcoming elections?
  • Slow drivers in the left lane – Another obvious you are saying.  I’m not talking about people that are keeping me from speeding.  I guess I have to live with that.  No, I’m talking about people doing 45 in a 55 in the left lane.  Every single afternoon on the way home on 19.  Road rage be thy name.
  • Not thanking (or even acknowledging) someone for opening or holding a door – Now this one is a little more obscure.  It doesn’t happen quite that often but when it does, it really gets me.  I think it’s the polite thing to do but when I hold the door and somebody breezes in like it’s their entrance to the red carpet, it leaves me miffed.  I usually give them a nice unsolicited “You’re welcome!”
  • Ordering food and not eating it – This one is pretty specific for me.  Bailey is one of the pickiest eaters you’ll ever meet.  She also has no concept of the value of money.  She is usually so occupied with the kids menu or iPod that she just picks something.  When it’s time to eat, you’d think they brought her a plate of roadkill.  She turns her nose up and says “this isn’t what I thought it was.”  Oh really, that’s not a chicken strip?
  • Talking during a movie – This could also qualify during a good song.  If you want to talk during Jackass or Nacho Libre, by all means, knock yourself out.  But when a man is watching Super Troopers, for the love of all that is holy, don’t talk over the punch lines.
  • Bluetooth phone devices – How many times have you been on an elevator and thought a stranger was talking to you only to get the ole finger point to the ear as they expose the Bluetooth headset?  Yeah, kind of embarrassing.  When it happens a second time on the same elevator ride, it’s your own fault.  
  • Writing a check at the grocery store – This an old gag for some standup comedians but it’s definitely enraging.  It’s 2016, even Dewey Shiver is rocking a debit card.  The check is written, the cashier has to check ID, write the license number and expiration on the memo line.  Print some serial items on the back of the check.  Come on, I’ve got cold milk here.  
  • Going through the express lane with more than 10 items – Another retail nightmare.  I’ve even chatted with cashiers who don’t like this one.  As a cashier, you come off like a jerk if you turn people away but the guy with 4 items gives you the death stare when you take them.  I blame the customer on this one.  The sign says 10 items or less.  11 or 12 is acceptable but pushing it.  Get out of here with that full cart.
  • 10 registers and 2 cashiers – This one is on the store.  Is it a staffing issue?  Too many people on break?  I can’t honestly think of a time that I’ve ever seen every line open.  Not that it would be feasible to do that all day, but let’s get some bodies in those kiosks.  As an added bonus, I always pick the wrong parking lot to use at Wal-Mart when they lock one of the entrances at 10 pm.  Curse you Wally World.
  • Pay at the pumps that say “Clerk has receipt” – This is in my top 3 on this list.  As part of my OCD, I can’t simply drive off without my receipt.  That is inviting the state patrol to pull me over and question my activities at the station where I just pumped gas and drove off without that slip of paper.  Then laziness kicks in and says “Are you really going inside to get that receipt? ”  The answer is always yes and in 22 years of driving, I’ve never been pulled over on suspicion of not paying at the pump.
  • Getting $20.01 in gas instead of $20.00 – Another gas pump nightmare.  It’s been a lot easier with gas prices under $2.00 per gallon but when they were over $4.00, you had to be Pistol Pete to get that nozzle stopped on the penny.  My twisted mind usually makes me pump another .99 in to get it rounded.  God help us all if I mess it up the second time around.
  • Being an “expert” at something but pronouncing names and towns wrong – there are literally people on TV that get paid to talk about sports and can’t pronounce a players name.  I get it, they’re difficult to pronounce.  But it’s your job!  Verne and Gary are the worst.  They don’t just mispronounce, they get the whole name wrong.  Alex Ogletree, Damien Swain, Jarvis Jenkins, Rayquan Smith, Jason Scott Wesley?  All of these are wrong.  Is there nobody in their headsets telling them this?
  • Country Music – Welp, you knew it had to be on this list.  I’ll spare everyone the dialogue on this one.  Just keep that stuff to yourselves.
  • Hashtags – Ooof, this one has been a tough one or me for years.  So many people use them I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s just me.  But it can’t be.  I refuse to be wrong on this one.  First off, it’s a pound sign, not a hashtag.  Secondly, it was created to assist in search results in social media.  I.E. If everybody was talking about the Braves, you would search with #Braves.  I think it really lost its value when Charlie Sheen started #Winning.  Much love JFP!
  • Anything called “The War On” – Nothing much to add.  Let’s just stop using it.  I don’t need to hear about the War on Soft Drinks.  The day soft drinks lead to a war is the day I’m checking out of this 3 star hotel.
  • Debates on sports or news channels – Specifically, Stephen A. Smith and that blowhard Skip Bayless.  If you don’t know them, type them into YouTube and go load your gun.  You will be firing rounds into your screen in no time.  Political sparring is also rather fruitless.  There isn’t a person on tv or radio that will ever make a point that I am arguing against that leads me to say “you know, you’re right.  What have I been thinking?”
  • Alicia asking me what I want for supper – Man, you want to see a simple situation go 0 to 100?  The dreaded question.  There is no right answer.  What I want isn’t what you want and definitely isn’t what Bailey wants.  What I want is a fat steak and potato but you can’t get that at Sonic.  I know this one goes both ways.  I also know that we are only one of millions of couples that experience this.  
  • CrossFit posts on social media – This really isn’t as bad of a problem as it has been.  It’s still there.  The chick straining to toss the cinder block and using 7 filters to make it look rustic.  The dude body slamming a Tractor tire while grimacing in pure agony.  We get it guys, you work out really hard and you are better than the rest of us at WOD.  Whatever that is. Most cross fitters should take a hint from my man Heath Gilbert.  He lets his statuesque physique say “I do crossfit.”  His posts don’t have to.
  • Any post on social media that says “Type Amen” or else – More social media nonsense.  I really don’t think that’s how it works.  A share doesn’t prove that I love God.  A like isn’t going to cure cancer and I’m not going to hell for not sharing a bible verse.  
  • Controversial cryptic posts – This is a tricky one.  It’s a peeve because it turns me into an online investigator.  When someone posts”I saw someone today and you won’t believe what this person did.  I had such high respect for them before that.  It just goes to show you that he never grew up”.  You’re right, I don’t believe what he did because I don’t know who you are talking about people:  but thanks, you just sentenced me to a night of reading every post you’ve written to properly analyse this.  The comments you are receiving aren’t helping either because apparantly I’m the only one who doesn’t know.
  • Grown men who used shaved bats – Well, here we are.  One of the saddest things to happen to adult softball.  It used to be about defense and base hitting and strategy.  I’m qualified to say “used to” because I’ve been playing it almost 20 years.  Now, the technology does most of the work.  It’s not hard to make contact in softball. If you have an illegal bat and you are 6’3, 250, give me a break with the grunting and whooping when you hit.  
  • Grown men who still need to fight to prove their manhood – Thankfully, this is dwindling for the most part as well.  There are still those knuckleheads out there that want to mix it up.  I’ve never been a fighter.  I have a job to go to on Monday morning and I don’t want to do it with my face looking like hamburger meat.
  • Sore winners – I’m looking right at you Florida Gators and FSU and Auburn and Bama…..just forget it.
  • Healthy food – Plain and simple, it stinks.  CJ’s meatball subs, not a healthy choice.  Harvest Moon’s cheesy bread, same.  Eron’s brownies, bad bad.  I eat what I enjoy.  I may be dead at 45 but I sure will enjoy the next 7 years at the dinner table.
  • Commercials on Internet videos – This one is new to us.  But it’s getting worse by the day.  I love YouTube.  I’ll watch tv shows, movies and funny vids all night sometimes.  Now, the commercial has made its way into my viewing.  Ads on our app games.  Ads on commercial free XM radio.  Enough!
  • Being hot – Not in the looks department as I rather enjoy that. You deal with the hand you’re dealt right?  I’m talking temperature.  It’s a given that you are going to be hot in summer in So Georgia. Being hot in December just ticks me off.  When it’s time to sleep, fans on, air is low and I’m very light on the covers.
  • Car pick up at school – This one is just odd to me.  I used to go read to Bailey’s class on Thursdays and would arrive at the school at 1:30.  The first couple of times I noticed one or two cars parked at the pickup area and thought nothing of it.  Later on I found out that these parents were legitimately sitting in a school parking lot 2 hours before school was dismissed so they could be first in line to get the kids.  I’ve been at the end of the line before and it takes about 15 minutes to get to the front.  What is the worth of sitting for 2 hours in the parking lot?  Unless you have a great talk radio setup.
  • School traffic – I’m just going to say this.  Parents lose their mind and subsequently their driving abilities when they take their kids to school.  Parking spots are created from the slimmest of resources.  I find myself literally taking a deep breath after dropping Bailey off and being thankful that it is over.
  • No reception or bad wifi – Until Pam and Dewy got wifi, I could go through a 100% battery in about 30 minutes and actually get through to about 3 websites.  There was always a score to check or an eBay item to buy that left me twisting in the Verizon-less Camilla wind.  
  • Incoming phone calls when I’m watching a video – This is even worse when combined with the peeve above this one.  You’re sitting there letting this video load.  A painstaking process.  Then, you’re ready to go so you push play.  About 20 seconds in you get a call to pick up some milk at the grocery store.  The video doesn’t just stop, it restarts from the beginning.

Whew, I’m glad I got that off of my chest.  I could probably go on but that’s enough for one sitting.  I think I’ve gotten agitated enough.  I’ll get a Part 2 out one day I’m sure.  Maybe there won’t be too much backlash over this one and I’ll still have readers at that point. If you have one that you want to share, add it in the comment section and it might make the next one if I share the peeve with you.  Let’s get back out there and get annoyed.

Joey

The Enemy Within

  
I’ll warn you now.  This post is going to be a tangled mess.  But hang in there, I really think it leads somewhere.  It’s really easy to lose yourself in this world.  Everything is so chaotic.  You can see what everyone else is doing all the time and you can measure that against what you are doing and what you’ve accomplished.  But it always feels like it isn’t enough.  I’ve spent most of my adult life lost in some way; spiritually, emotionally, mentally.  I still have that lost feeling more often than I care to admit.  Many are the nights that I find myself looking for the light that shines the way home.  Let me tell you, life is a constant battle.  

It’s easy to write about the past and the good times because in those moments, I had it all figured out.  Maybe it was a lack of responsibility.  I didn’t have three beautiful girls that depended on me to be their provider and protector.  There are traps everywhere and if you aren’t vigilant and you let your guard down, boom!  That may be the toughest thing about being a parent so far.  There is a constant buzzing in your head telling you to stay focused, stay alert.  Even laying down in the bed at night brings its own set of boxes in your head to start checking.  

I have been accused of being overly cautious as a parent but my brain doesn’t know any other way.  I seem to be wired to not let anything happen on my watch.  The scariest part of that is the fact that things are going to happen, it’s life.  The guilt that comes with things that happen are an added weight for somebody with wiring like mine.  I’m not alone in this, there are many like me.  You know the feeling of guilt or pain when something happens around you and you can triple check things in your mind and find this one sliver of something you might could have done different to avoid it.  It is usually never legitimate but you’ll find something.  Overthinking at its best puts me at my worst.

I guess you could say that this makes me overly sensitive.  I wouldn’t argue with you.  Sometimes I wish I could be different but I don’t know if I would be where I am right now and have the people in my life that matter so much if I didn’t have that quality, for better or worse.  My friend Eron, or E-Dub as she is known in some circles, has classified me in the past as being someone who feels what’s going on in other people’s lives and situations and almost feeling their hurt or their disappointment to some degree.  I got that when she said it and I get it now.  I have taken some of those situations and made them my problem when I didn’t have to.  That helps intensify guilt or worry that I have in my own life sometimes and makes me even more cautious and sensitive.  Exhausted yet?

One thing I have learned over the years is how to deal with it for the most part.  There are many different remedies that work at different times.  One is simply writing this.  Before this blog, I wrote almost daily but just for myself and a select few that I would let read from time to time.  Putting thoughts on paper have always been one of my most successful escapes.  I can sometimes feel it leaving my mind and appearing on the paper.  If I could make it rhyme, maybe I could turn it into something asthetically pleasing to the eye in the form of a poem.  For now, it remains this jumbled collection of thoughts.  

Another escape for me is music.  That has already been documented.  But all of this is probably why I don’t get into songs about dirt roads or fishing or tight blue jeans.  All of those things are likeable but they don’t make me use my mind, which is my use for music.  It’s an art form that I can listen to and be amazed in the same way some hipster may look at a painting of a toaster and get some meaning from it.  When I occupy my mind with analytical thinking, it can sometimes carry over into the fuzzy side of the brain.  The side that lives in guilt and overthinking could use a role model.

Perhaps the most important combatant in this mental and emotional battle has been surrounding myself with people I genuinely care about and I think feel the same about me.  I’ve written before about how people in general have become unreliable in nature.  I really don’t mean that in a callous way.  It’s just the truth as I see it.  So everyday for me is reinforcing those relationships and letting those people know that I am still there.  It’s not always verbal or clear to the naked eye.  It could be a snapchat that makes them laugh or a picture that makes them cringe.  It’s My way of saying, “Hey, remember me?  I’m still here.  You can’t shake me that easily.”  Wait, what?  Just kidding about that last part.  

Everybody has their own form of communication with their friends and family.  Sometimes it’s a call, sometimes a text or a share on FB. I’m still learning how to communicate with certain people. I’m not very verbal, despite what you may think.  I find other ways and I think for the most part, those close to me get that.  Not being verbal doesn’t mean I’m an ass.  It usually means that there is a traffic accident happening in my mind and I’m trying to figure out how to get the scene cleared.  I have found the most success with words on paper or a screen.  So I stick with that.  I am usually a nervous idiot when I have to convey feelings face to face.

I guess those are some pretty consistent characteristics for an anxious, overthinking, sensitive, self-observer such as myself.  I was made to feel guilt, to hurt when I otherwise shouldn’t, and to be my own worst enemy.  I’ve come to terms with that.  That was a pretty relieving event in my life.  When I fought it, it came at me punch after punch.  But I’ve learned to live with it and make the most of it by using it when I can for good.  There are tons of people that I have become acquainted with that share my thought process and faults.  It’s really not the worst thing in the world to deal with even though I thought it was at one point in my life.  It helps to know you aren’t alone.  I am not alone.

Cardboard Memories

   

The year was 1989.  A lot was going on that year; The Berlin Wall came down, the Exxon-Valdez dumped massive amounts of oil into the ocean, Gameboy was introduced, The Simpsons first episode aired and half of my seventh grade class was doing the Buffalo Stance thanks to Neneh Cherry.  If you look a little further off into the weeds though, you’ll find me and what made that year one of the best ever.  Our sleepy little Camilla Wal-Mart introduced me to my lifelong addiction, Sports Cards.

These tiny pieces of cardboard have seen fluctuations that would rival the real estate market over time, to scale of course.  I caught them during the peak that year.  Several now Hall of Famers, or soon to be, were rookies and appearing on cards for the first time.  Names like Troy Aikman, Barry Sanders, David Robinson, Randy Johnson, Craig Biggio, Gary Sheffield and…..The Kid himself, Ken Griffey Jr.  My first big get that year was the 1989 Donruss version of this young phenom.  That was of course because our Wal-Mart carried Donruss, Topps and Score and he would only appear in one of those base sets.  Another card company would join the hobby along with me that year.  That company was Upper Deck and the card pictured above was the version that drove me nuts then and still does 27 years later.  It’s when I realized that I had a problem.  More on that card later.

It’s been quite a strange journey with cards over the years, really too much to simply blog about.  But, I have watched an industry that operated at a production level of what seems like 1,000,000+ cards each year in the early 1990’s shrink to runs as low as 1 of certain cards today.  I had not yet taken economics from Mr. Spivey in 1989 but it all made sense as I got older.  Cards from the 50’s were worth a ton of money and the country wanted to buy in.  This was a direct contradiction to the reason the cards from the 50’s were valuable.  They weren’t collected then.  They were toys that were basically played with or used as bicycle tire accessories.  So, if you could find one in good condition, you had a pretty rare item.  When everybody started buying in the late 80’s, the companies started pumping them out 24/7 and rare was not even a consideration.

Thankfully, that was never the reason I started collecting and even though my 1989 collection is worth very little in the bank, it is a treasure chest of nostalgia.  Trading baseball cards became a part time gig for me in those days and I was a shark.  I was always looking for that next deal while stocking up whenever I went to Wal-Mart or had a birthday roll around.  I had my marks too.  Shook was a Minnesota Twins fan, Coop liked Robert Parrish, Uncle Speedy liked the old guys.  I was happy to move those players for what I was after; Griffey, McGwire, Canseco, Shawn Kemp, Bo Jackson, the Ryan Express.  And if you ask any of us, we all thought we got the better of each other.  I remember hauling my collection around in a sweet binder protecting the cards in plastic sleeves.  I even took them to school once in 7th grade but Ms. Merritt interrupted one of my many deals and confiscated them. I didn’t get them back until the end of the school year in her effort to prove that she “was the captain of the ship.”  I didn’t make that mistake again.

Along with trades, I loved opening those packs.  I would take out the Beckett Monthly Price Guide and look up every single card.  At 12, value of $10-$15 for a card might as well have been $100.  Among those semi valuable cards in those days were can’t miss kids like Kevin Maas, Brien Taylor and Todd Van Poppel.  Who?  Exactly…..but those guys were exciting pulls back then.  I actually pulled a Kevin Maas Stadium Club as I opened a vintage pack I got at my friend Charlie Heinisch’s card shop in Warner Robins last weekend.  That would have been a tremendous hit back in the day but it turned out to be little more than a punchline in the photo I sent to him.  Any base cards today are of little consequence in the value department.  The hits today are jersey swatches, printing plates, short prints and autographs among other subset items.  

I’m still a purest for the most part.  I get excited about Braves, Falcons, Hawks, Bulldogs and my favorite players, regardless of rarity.  I’ve tried to pass that along to my daughter Bailey.  She has fallen in her father’s footsteps as it relates to collecting.  She has her favorite players and it really doesn’t matter what kind of card it is.  That’s what it is about to me.  A cardboard photograph of my favorite player reminds me of the days when cards came in a pack that cost about $1.00 and there weren’t 2,000 subsets and variations you had to keep up with.  I do love adding autographs and short prints to my personal collection but that’s not what our Saturday trips to Comics and Cards to see our buddy Wade is all about.  We walk around looking at all of the singles in the case and try to find our favorite player.  It’s also about us having a common interest.  She enjoys something that I enjoyed during my youth and I can understand that enthusiasm better than anyone.

I like to think of myself as being in the minority when it comes to classifying myself as a collector.  I am collecting memories and if they are worth something one day, that’s even better.  If not, I’ll always remember when Bailey pulled her first Todd Gurley from a pack.  I have met others like me over the years and have even found a home for those who share my addiction thanks to Charlie and the Middle Georgia Collector group he created on FaceBook.  The hobby has gone through countless changes and peaks and valleys but it has always been very special to me.  It’s been refreshing to find others that want to keep the hobby alive for those that remember the wonder it brought as kids.  I really still get just as excited when I am opening cards as I did at 12.  Even those 1991 Stadium Club I bought last weekend.

Back to the Griffey in the picture above. That card is arguably one of the most popular cards ever and really is a measuring stick when comparing hot cards that come and go.  The value did not hold because of the print runs of the product but it remains my white whale.  In 27 years, I have never pulled that card out of a pack.  I have 2 that are a part of the base sets I own but have never experienced the thrill of seeing one appear in a pack that I bought.  I’ve tried, believe me.  When I see 1989 Upper Deck, I pluck a few out of the box and try my luck but over time my odds have dwindled.  You see, along with the massive print runs, there was also a problem with sequence in those days.  It’s rumored that some people can predict where the cards are in the box because of that issue and the packs left in circulation are littered with left over worthless cards.  I will hold out hope that one day I will find my Griffey Upper Deck, much like Ken Forrester did on our youth trip to Helen that year.  Yes, I remember…..did I mention I had a problem?