My Life As A Hobby

Remember when Halloween was just for little kids? If you’re like me, you can recall going door to door wearing that lame, store-bought pirate costume you just had to have.  The one with the slinky outfit that covered your regular clothes,  and was topped off by the cheap plastic mask with the frozen facial expression.   It was almost impossible to see or breathe out of that thing.   And before you went out trick or treating, your Mom made sure you put on a jacket over the entire outfit. Talk about a buzz kill.   I never saw a buccaneer wearing a windbreaker, matey. But it didn’t matter, because  you always brought back about half a pillowcase full of candy. Some of it was so chewy that you would pull out at least three fillings. I don’t know why the American Dental Association doesn’t sponsor this holiday.   Eventually, you out grew the whole Halloween thing. It became another fond childhood memory.   But times have changed. Now adults are all ...

The Visitor in the Second Row I’m gonna be honest - I wasn’t sure I was going to write this because lots of you might think I’m crazy. This is not a joke, there’s no punchline at the end.  Its not a made up story to get views or likes.  It’s not a Halloween story.  It’s not anything like you would see on those stupid ghost shows on TV. I saw it as sure as I’m sitting here.  It’s an experience I’ve never had before, and I’m getting goosebumps just typing it.  Maybe it was my imagination, but it was so vivid and lasted so long that I just can’t believe my mind conjured this up.   I was happy to hear that my niece’s infant daughter was going to be christened because that meant I would be going back to my Mother’s church.  It’s a small Anglican house of worship nestled in the woods on top of a steep hill.  Mom loved that church - so much so that when she passed, they gave her a special tribute. For several years one of her Sunday best hats was placed ...

  Halloween always reminds me of some of the idiotic things we did as teenagers. And with over a half century of perspective, I can certainly say they were idiotic.   We were too old for treats, but certainly not tricks. Stuffing cherry bombs in mailboxes, rolling yards with toilet paper, and tossing water balloons   were always Halloween mainstays. Once we got creative and made a dummy we laid on the side of a busy road.   However, the perfect tool for teenage hooligans has always been the egg. They’re perfect. They fit well in the hand. The shell is strong enough to allow you to throw it long distances, and frail enough to explode on impact.  As a crusty old adult, I wonder why any grocery store would even sell eggs to a teenager on October 31 without showing an ID, a background check, and a letter from their Mom. Maybe even a 3 day waiting period would help.  About the only problem I had when buying eggs for Halloween was an occasional cashier who made m...

  My wife Carol can’t cook.  Let me clarify - technically she can, but she doesn’t like to. The dishes in her culinary repertoire are basic things like scrambled eggs, green beans, and a casserole or two.   An empty foil pan at a church covered dish attests to the fact that she makes a good pecan pie. However, day to day cooking usually falls on me. And while I’m always willing to try and prepare something new, recipe is a four letter word to her.  Even so, I had no idea she could make the kitchen such a dangerous place. I learned otherwise not to long ago.  After supper we had settled in for the evening in the usual manner; she was watching some syrupy movie on her iPad while I scanned TV channels looking for the show where they finally caught Bigfoot.  Suddenly, there was a loud pop from the kitchen. Our two dogs, laying peacefully on the floor, jumped up and hi-tailed it to the bedroom like it was the Fourth of July.  Carol looked at me and said, “W...

  The other day I was talking to a friend who just took his first flight since COVID began. He said something that struck fear in my heart. “Joe, flying is worse now than it ever was.”  So it seems the airlines have finally succeeded doing something I thought was impossible.  Apparently they have found a way to make the flight experience even more miserable for us passengers. It’s like Satan adding humidity to hell.  About the only thing left for them to do now is to have the flight attendants rake their fingernails on a blackboard.  Airlines used to be all about serving the customer - but not now.  I’m thankful that I’m not a regular flier any more.   For over 20 years, I used to fly about once a month, so I consider myself a veteran of the skies.  But things have changed. Now airlines have cut flights, amenities, and service, all while raising prices. It’s hard to believe that there was a time when I actually enjoyed getting on an airplane....

  “When you believe in things  You don’t understand Then you suffer  Superstition - ain’t the way, yeah…”                                              Stevie Wonder Uh oh. Only 5 minutes before kickoff, and I’ve got things to do.  Quickly I round up both my dogs and pet them 7 times each - the last stroke from the tip of their nose to the end of their tail. Then I run to my drawer and put on my Alabama tee shirt that came from the holy city of Jerusalem. Now and only now can I sit down in my special chair and watch the game knowing I have done all I can do to help my team.  I suppose some people would call me superstitious, but I prefer to say I’m making sure all of my pregame rituals are completed.  Who am I kidding? It is  superstition. And it’s something that’s   interwoven into the fabric of every sport we watch, es...

The first time I flew in an airplane I was a senior in college headed to a job interview. Looking back, it was one of the worst flights I’ve ever been on. The pilot went through a series of severe thunderstorms before we landed, causing our plane to repeatedly dip and drop hundreds of feet. Ignorance is bliss I suppose, because I thought this was normal until the guy next to me looked up from his barf bag and asked me if I knew Jesus Christ as my personal Savior.  At the time, I had no sophistication about things outside of my little world in Alabama.  When I started my first job, I went to the little town of Norwich, New York for sales training. During the first meal at the hotel restaurant I saw something I had never seen before. Set out before me was an array of fruits and vegetables on a long table protected by clear plexiglass.  Flummoxed, I asked my sales manager what this unusual setup was.  “That is called a salad bar,” he replied.  And then he adde...