Where's my picture?
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Waiting Room Nosiness & Cliques
We sat in a doctor’s office waiting room for over an hour and a half Friday. Of course, if we had not been an hour early, then we would not have had to sit that long, but what if we had a flat on the way or had a wreck? Or had to wait on a train? I get nervous just thinking about it.
One young man, probably in his late 30s brought his father in. His father was short with a nice thick stock of gray hair. The old man talked just like Billy Bob Thornton in SLINGBLADE. He even used the same type of terminology the Sling Blade man would use. The old guy was obsessed wanting a Diet Coke. His son kept telling him to wait and they would get a Diet Coke on the way out because if they left now to get a drink they might call his name and they would miss their time. I wanted to catch the old man eyes and nod my head, to show him I concurred with his son. The old fart kept fussing about wanting a Diet Coke. Finally the son gave in and got his father a Diet Coke. I say it was his father but he called the old man by his first name. It is none of my business anyway.
One elderly lady came to see the doctor’s lab to find out if they had ran whatever kind of sample she left them yet. She was out of her medicine and was depending on them basing her next prescription on the test results. It was a lack of communications. She thought it would be sooner than it was going to be. The technician told her it would be seven more days before they got the results back. The technician also said they can call in a prescription to her drugstore of what she is using now, to hold her off. The tech then asked her which drug store does she go to most often. The elderly lady said she goes to two drug stores most often, and she named them both and where they were at. The technician asked her again, which one of the two would she prefer to get her prescription at. Again, the elderly lady said, “I go to both of them.” The tech said, “ I’m going to call the drugstore on Cobb Parkway. Go there in about an hour to pick up your prescription.” I hope that worked out and she didn’t go to the other one.
Walking by a man saw a woman and stood looking at her a moment and then asked her if her name is BLA BLA. She said yes and he must be BLA BLA. They were in the same high school graduating class. He had a sweatshirt that said CHEROKEE on it. Cherokee County, Georgia? Cherokee Nation? Nothing they wore or said gave any hint what high school they knew each other from. The man told her he didn’t see her this year at the 30 year reunion. She said nobody called her. (ahah! One of those invisible people!). He said he went and wished he hadn’t. He said “they” were still in cliques just like they were back then.
I know how cliques are. I went to Marietta High School which had the worse clique infestation that is possible bet My friend Monty and I were talking not long about high school cliques. We said we both really didn’t belong to any clique, like the jocks or the honor students. We were sort of like tops spinning solo beween clique groups. We got along well with them all, I suppose, but were also outsiders to them all.
I didn’t mention it, but we came closest to finding our nick in the hell raisers clique.
Finding our nick,
In the Hell Raisers,
Clique.
I’m a poet, it is in my blood. Read the book report post on yesterday's blog.
I think cliques have good and bad points. People naturally want friends around them, especially in high school. With your co-clique members you can share common likes and dislikes. One of your dislikes will be outsiders who are not in your group. And that is where bullying comes in.
Very few teenagers prefer to spend their high school years as loners, but some are forced too – they are just not accepted by any of their peers. They usually have their own drummer they march to. If they are denied fellowship among their own, the people who denied it should be ashamed. Unacceptance could lead to suicide.
Cliques are not limited to the snobs at high school. Churches, extended families, big companies, and any large group of people are natural habitats for cliques. You can’t get away from them.
POP! The man and woman were talking about the 30th reunion. He said he is not going back to another one and she said she has no intention of attending a reunion too. They more or less said, “Who needs them?”
They talked about Facebook friends and how old high school acquaintances who didn’t speak to them in high school are now asking to be their facebook friend. They both thought that was ironic but it didn’t prevent them from agreeing to become each other’s facebook friend.
Another thing, as invisible as they claimed to be, they certainly drew the attention of almost everybody in the waiting room. The sling blade man was totally self-absorbed with his own needs to notice them but just about everybody else. As a matter of fact, one elderly man leaned forward and craned his neck to hear them better.
Jock Clique
Drama Queen Clique
Old Fart Clique
SUNDAY FUNNIES!!! CRACKED and John Severin
John Severin was one of the four original artists that started MAD Comicbook in the early 1950s. He was the first one of the four that left MAD. Here is some of his work for CRACKED Magazine that I pulled from CRACKED COLLECTORS' EDITION, dated Sept 1982.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Book Report: Biography on Byron Herbert Reece, Mountain Singer
This is a book report on the book MOUNTAIN SINGER, subtitled The Life and Legacy of Byron Herbert Reece, by Raymond A. Cook; published by Cherokee Publishing Company, Atlanta, Georgia, 1980.
First of all, I like to call my book reviews “book reports” to help make up for the times in school I falsely gave a book report on a book that I didn’t read. I either read the Classic Comicbook with that titled or kind read what others said about the books in reviews and things – that was before Google, can you imagine the hell I went through?*
(* I remember I made up a book in my mind about an invisible man that didn’t want to be invisible but no one seem to notice him – I thought up things as I spoke with the teacher, Mrs. Skelton, sitting back with a knowing smirk on her face. She gave me an A!)
Second of all, I would like to mention that Byron Herbert Reece is family. We are 4th cousins. We are both descended from John Hunter. He is my claim to fame.
Now, on with the report:
Byron Herbert Reece was born in Union County, Georgia, September 14, 1917, and took his own life June 3, 1958.
Byron was very much aware of his need to help his parents on the farm they operated. He worked 10 to 20 hours a day with very little pay. The income of the farm mostly helped his sickly parents with doctor bills and medicine.
He squeezed in a education in segments over the years at nearby Young Harris College.
He wrote poetry at night and developed himself into one of the best poets of his time. He sent his poems to magazines that published poetry. The magazines he chose had a fine literary reputation but paid very little. He couldn’t quit his day job.
Having published poetry that became famous he was asked more and more to speak at literary functions. He went and spoke for a while but found they were counter-productive. His farm work waiting on him, along with more, and his speeches paid little in money and a lot in appreciation.
He also found that a lot of times the groups he spoke to knew little about poetry or any thing of that sort; they were just being pretentious, which he came to resent.
Byron was even asked to speak at universities such as Harvard and Princeton and even teach there, which of course he couldn’t desert his parents.
He was also known for his down to earth plain-spoken personality. He became good friends with Atlanta Journal-Constitution editor Ralph McGill. Mr. McGill called on him several times at his home in Union County. It was easier than calling him, the nearest phone was something like seven miles away.
It seemed to me that book continued to talk about Byron’s conflicts: Time writing and becoming a well known writer and being devoted to his parents, who needed him. The more he was in demand in the literary world the sicker his parents, mostly his father, became. His father ended up with TB and so did Byron.
Money was always a problem. His writings paid very little and he got several Guggenheim grants that tied him and his family over in hard times.
He was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize in literature. But you know how many cups of coffee you can buy with a Pulitzer Prize nomination don’t you?
He taught at Young Harris College off and on and taught there up until the time he shot himself.
The biography part of the book is 143 pages. The rest of the book, about 100 pages, is his poetry.
There are also two books he had written, which I have not even seen.
I do not know much about poetry and shudder to think what Byron would think of me if I tried to make an intelligent statement about what he was writing about, so I better not say it here either. However, I did read every poem, and they all had, what seemed to me a fast pace rhythm or beat. And many dealt with death and ghosts.
I better quit while I am ahead.
above: Bryon Herbert Reece at Vogel State Park, probably sitting just about where his parents farm used to be.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Videos Two Days Late
The above videos were taken at most recent weekly GOBAG meeting. One is us and the next one is us singing happy birthday to Harry.
The Excuse:
I would have published this Wednesday Morning the 16th but YouTube did not give their approval or release it until Thursday, almost noon, the 17th.
YouTube turned down one of my videos recently because they said there might an infringement on copywright laws. The video was still pictures of all us old men who used to be teenagers at mostly Marietta High School. I selected Billy Joe Royal's DOWN IN THE BOONDOCKS and I KNEW YOU WHEN. It is a shame they turned it down because most of the people in the pictures personally knew Billy Joe when we were infesting the area as teenagers. HE KNEW US THEN.
It seems YouTube holds my submissions a little longer now, maybe for for scrutiny.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Ghostly Courthouse that Isn't and the Ghost that Is.
I already had this picture up once this week but I noticed something in it I would like to share; another ghost. A ghost within the ghost courthouse.
See the second level window on the side? The second window from the left? You see the bit white area that covers most of the window and looks like it has a head? See it? It looks like Senator Alexander Stephens Clay to me! Not only does he oversee all the activities in Glover Park, but also the Courthouse that isn't there!
I should have saved this picture for Halloween.
Lobbying the Elected Georgia Represenatives
In the past two weeks, lobbyists have spent more than $340 per member of the (Georgia) Legislature literally wining and dining lawmakers. Ethics reformers don't like it. – ajc.com, Feb 17, 2011.
I bet Governor Nathan Deal is fuming. Just thinking lof those lobbyists trying to influence the Georgia legislators with wine, food, and other presents, after all he the Governor insisted in his campaign he is very ethical.
Those highly paid lobbyists bearing gifts can have quality time with legislators just about anytime they want to. You try communicating with your representative and see what a nice form letter you get back.
The governor needs to have a heart to heart talk with the lobbyists. I would think he knows them well, after all, he enlisted them to help him with his transition into the governor’s office, so the news said at the time.
1960 OLYMPIIAN - Features
And the Valentine's special would go here, but as you know, it was published on Monday.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Congressman John Lewis and Us
Today President Obama is presenting Congressman John Lewis the Medal of Freedom Award.
One of my sons and I played a small fragment in John Lewis’s life years ago. I doubt if the congressman remembers it.
We were at a Sprayberry High School related banquet at a ball room of a Atlanta hotel. I don’t remember the details but the fragment went something like this:
We were in an elevator and John Lewis stepped in, nodded at us and pressed the button for the floor he was getting out at. When he stepped out, we both agreed it was THE John Lewis. We pressed the button at the next floor. The elevator let us out at the next level and we ran at full speed down the corridor and ran down the stairs to the next door, which was the same one John Lewis got out on.
We bounded out of the stairwell door and intl the corridor, up the hall about halfway was the congressman walking towards us.
We casually nodded at him and he nodded at us as we passed.
I wonder if Congressman Lewis realized he just left us in the elevator behind him?
Monday, February 14, 2011
1960 OLYMPIAN, Valentine's Ball
The Valentine's Day part is just a couple days ahead of itself, but my publisher insisted that it be timely. And I refused and he said, "Fine! I'll do it myself!" - the editor.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
An Important Plea From Chicken-Blog Creators
Attention old ex-Marietta High School students:
Do you have the 1960 OLYMPIAN?
You do? Good!
Please scan pages 147 and 148, they are front and back of the same page and send to me. I would really apprecaite it.
My 147/148 page has a tear in it. And of course we are interested in quality (me rolling my eyes, to see if you beleive that or not).
Thank you very much.
The Management:
Eddie
Ed
Rock
Hey You
SUNDAY FUNNIES!!! Racism on the Front Lines
click on image to enlarge it to make sense of it.
This story was the first story in EC's FRONTLINE COMBAT #15. Harvey Kurtzman was the editor and more than likely, also the writer. It was illustrated by Wallce Wood.
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