My Life As A Hobby

  If you drive by my house and see me cutting grass on a raggedy riding mower that looks like it came from Fred Sanford’s junk yard, please don’t laugh. It didn’t always look that way.  Once it was a beautiful Cub Cadet lawn mower that would’ve been the envy of any homeowner. But, there was an incident that changed all that - the kind that always seems to happen to me.   I don’t think this one was all my fault.  That being said, I can face the facts. The truth is that I have a penchant for accidents, and screw ups. Everybody knows it.  Carol’s Dad, a master of dry acerbic wit, once said when I walked in his house, “Come on in, Joe. Make yourself at home. Break something.”  That’s a hard reputation to overcome.   The lawnmower still runs, although it looks awful. Now the plastic hood cowl isn't attached to the body.  It’s sitting under my deck in a contorted, twisted shape that would look perfect in a Picasso painting. The front is burned. Both headlights are staring in different di

People in the South have long have long memories, especially if they think they have been wronged.   From the War of Northern Aggression, to a controversial play in the Iron Bowl, even bad service at a Cracker Barrel - nothing is ever forgotten. I can’t count the number of times my wife has reminded me that I forgot to buy her a homecoming corsage - in 1974.       Sometimes when there are issues that involve family, time doesn’t heal the wound, it only makes it fester. Unfortunately, I know this is true.   I can remember my mother and my aunt arguing over who was going to get my grandmother’s Hoosier cabinet - whatever that is.  It seemed so stupid.  After Mom died, my siblings agreed that we would not fight about who got what.  It’s not worth it, all of us said.  Sadly, that pact was broken by my brother and one of my sisters over some of Mom’s jewelry and Dad’s Purple Heart.   However, where blood kin is concerned, words, both spoken and unspoken, can cause more hurt than any materia

Its 86 degrees at the lake and I’m sitting, sweating, and swearing.  I’m miserable. That’s because 86 degrees is the indoor temperature.   You see, on one of the hottest,   humid streaks of summer imaginable, the air conditioner in my little house has decided to quit cooling. And the fans and portable AC unit I’m running ain’t helping a lot.   What’s worse, I suppose my heating and cooling guy has decided I have leprosy - he’s barely returning my calls and texts.   In fact, when I finally talked to him he told me he couldn’t make it   because he had to go to a funeral home that had AC problems.   I’m not sure who complained, but I guess someone at a visitation must’ve said it was hotter than hell and upset the deceased’s family.  As I lay in an ever expanding pool of sweat, I begin to wonder about all of us.  We have become soft. I was almost out of high school before we had air conditioning in my house, and we somehow managed.  Usually it was early June when my father would pull out

    When I was growing up I didn’t have any of the fancy-schmancy electronic toys that kids have today.  That’s OK.  You see, I had some neat stuff that - gasp! didn’t even require batteries.  Things like a Daisy BB gun, a Mousetrap game, a Mattel cowboy belt with a derringer in the buckle,  Silly Putty, a Slinky, a Man From UNCLE gun, cap pistols, Duncan Yo Yos, Case pocket knives, Frisbees, and a JC Higgins bike that Dad bought at Sears.  About the only thing I wanted that I never got was Lawn Darts.  That’s because my parents thought I would somehow turn them into weapons.  And they were right.  By the way, who even came up with this idea?  At some product development meeting, did a toy executive stand up and say, “Hey! What if we make giant steel tipped darts that kids can throw in the air?” And everyone else said,”Yeah!” As I look back on my childhood, there is one toy that I would have really liked: the Big Wheel. Oh, how I would have loved to glide down our driveway and cut t