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LIBERAL LEANINGS IN MY CONSERVATIVE WORLD

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I consider myself a moderate simply because I will except some change in my life. You know, change in underwear type things. No, I try not to be held hostage to any party politics, but it is hard. By saying that I am a moderate locates me so far left from many of my friends that many of them think that I might as well be standing next to Karl Marx. I on the other hand believe they are standing to the right of Adolf Hitler.

My belief doesn’t mean there aren’t any southern liberals. It just means they tend to be African American or, if white, they tend to hide their liberalness and admit to it privately only to a voting machine. Please be aware that I am speaking of Southerners born and bred, not damn Yankees. If a Southern liberal’s friends or family were to find out that they voted for a Democrat, this revelation would likely be accompanied by looks that you would expect your Baptist minister to give you if he caught you coming out of a liquor store or “Hooters.” Never mind asking why he was there because we are also big on “Do as I say. Do not as I do.”

I should point out that our “set in our way-ness,” while a Southern white attribute, is not a trait limited to one race. My friend Butch, who is African American, is as conservative as they come, and it has rubbed off on other members of his family. Of my generation, his loooonnnng pontifications would make a Kentucky colonel or a politician proud! It surprises me how our world view is comparable despite our differences in race. I attribute this to our rural upbringing that included chopping cotton and corn and working in textiles along with parents and grandparents who would “switch deem legs.” Despite this similar history, I imagine he has voted Democrat since 1964. Why? “You dummy, didn’t you hear me? I told you my family has voted Democrat since 1968!”

I don’t understand why people in other parts of the world consider us to be uneducated and backward just because we are conservative and as inflexible to change as a piece of rebar. I just thought that “tongue in cheek.” Despite improvements, our school systems still rank lower while obesity, poverty and numbers of unwed mothers still rank higher than the rest of the nation. The world view is of a fat, tobacco chewing redneck (THEIR WORDS) who is a high school dropout sporting “shit-caked” work boots and wearing a “South will rise again!” belt buckle. Usually, this redneck could stand a bit of dental work on his four teeth and is much more concerned about the Second Amendment than any other aspect of “gubment.” His mate is barefooted and wearing a dress she made herself from a feed sack. “Sugah Pie” is pregnant and showing to be quite far along despite having a baby in arms and another, a year older, in a dirty diaper and tugging at the hem of her dress. They will not have to worry about having three in high school at the same time much less college. In front of their single-wide is a rusting pickup truck on blocks whose engine is leaking vital fluids as it sits on a sagging picnic table next to it. Yes, there is a redbone hound asleep under the truck. Is this an accurate portrayal? HELL NO…and, unfortunately, hell yeah! The climate is changing but for those of us who are not “sot in our ways” the change is slow. Oh God, I may be a liberal! Please don’t tell anyone! I will try to do better.

I now live in an area of South Carolina that has become known as the “Dark Corner.” Once I thought it got its name because of our location in regard to the mountains to our west that block the sun as it slips beyond the horizon. To “sorta” quote Yogi Berra, it does “get darker here quicker” but that has nothing to do with the name. Oh no. One local historian suggested that the Dark Corner somehow got its name because Unionist and Confederate deserters invaded the area “here abouts” to defend themselves against a “gubment” that wanted them to uphold slavery that the deserters had decided was a “rich man’s” war to maintain the “status quo” or in the case of Unionists, a “gubment” that wanted them to rebel against the Union. In and around 1864 they decided to unite and began to fortify the nearby mountains and dare the Confederate Army or local constabulary to show up. By that time the CSA had its hands full elsewhere and there was no confrontation. I find it interesting that since the Flag issue in my state landed like a wet cow patty dropped from a B-52, there now seem to be more Confederate Battle Flags around THAN YOU CAN SHAKE A STICK AT. I wonder if any of my tradition-laden friends realize the “checkered heritage” of where they live. “Nope, cause hit don’t matter ‘cept that the sumbitch ‘gubment is trin‘to take my flag!” Damn Right!

Another example of old traditions dying hard is the production of “tax-free” distilled spirits. Through the depression and into modern times, the Dark Corner was known for its production of moonshine. Not just any moonshine but what has been described as a particularly “fine moonshine.” That is not an oxymoron. The smoothness supposedly came from the water. In the late Seventies it was also known for producing a particularly high grade of “killer weed” known as “Glassy Mountain Gold.” Weed did not replace moonshining because moonshining was the traditional drug of choice and “them good old boys ain’t about to change.” During the depression poor families resorted to illegally distilling spirits to pay their taxes and to make a living that the “gubment” was attempting to take away, according to their “way ah thinking.” Well, this is 2015 and it is still being made. One morning in the late 2000’s, I stepped out to begin my morning run and was assaulted by the sharp smell of sour mash cookin’. Several years later I found a broken down still on a stream located on my land. They could have, at least, offered me a taste!

Most of the people I know, in addition to being conservative, don’t make shine and have more of their own teeth than I do. A few wave the flag and chew tobacco. Many of us own rusty old pickups. One even has the engine out of his. It’s in his double-bay garage, the one he built to work on his cars that includes a hydraulic lift rack and engine hoist. There is nothing but food on his picnic table and with it a German Shepard to guard it all. Despite his lack of a college degree, his home, garage and farm are a lot nicer than mine. Uneducated? Not where it counts, it would seem, because they don’t award degrees for common sense and work ethic. He doesn’t chew, dip or drink his spirits out of a Mason jar and is more likely to be in flip-flops than in “shit kickers.” I think of Jimmy Buffett meets Mr. Greenjeans. He also doesn’t wave the Battle Flag but he is as Southern as the day is long and, I think, more of what the New, New South is about, despite being set in his conservative ways. Yes, he does still vote Republican. “You dummy, didn’t you hear me? I told you my family has voted Republican since 1964!”

For more of Don Miller’s unique views of life and humor try http://goo.gl/lomuQf

I CHOOSE CIVILITY

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“formal politeness and courtesy in behavior or speech:
synonyms: courtesy · courteousness · politeness · good manners ·
graciousness · consideration · respect · comity”

I defined civility simply because I am unsure how many of my “social media” friends actually know what it means or if they do, they have decided that using it is just too “PC”. Two threads I started, (with what I thought was a simple comment about violent crime rates and another about the protests taking place during the National Anthem), crumbled into something else entirely. We raged far afield from the original posts and disintegrated into a playground melee stopping just short of someone yelling “yo’ momma!” Another former teaching friend lamented being verbally attacked over a position he took on one of his own treads. That would be former teacher not former friend. The word of the day, week or year seems to be ‘ATTACK’ which is why I am trying to choose civility instead of trying to shout someone down. Yes, kill them with kindness…ha…ha…ha.

I continue to hear people state “We are too PC” so I have also looked up a definition and provided it: “to criticize language, actions, or policies seen as being excessively calculated to not offend or disadvantage any particular group of people in society.” There was a time when I was taught that “NOT OFFENDING” was a good thing and why would you want to disadvantage anyone…ohhhhhh, you mean a perceived enemy, I get it now. ITS OKAY TO OFFEND OUR ENEMIES! The people we or you are fighting with. People we are at war with. You know, people that are trying to shoot us, blow us up, are of a different religion than us, people with a different sexual preference who might want to get married, people with different ideas about race, people who decide to protest against things we hold near and dear, or people who think that beer “TASTES GREAT!” rather than is “LESS FILLING!” FUCK…THEM…ALL! JUST LEAVE IF YOU DON’T LIKE WHAT I AM SPOUTING! WE DON’T WANT YOU HERE! YOU ARE NOT OUR KIND…Oh I forgot to include the guy down the road that has decorated his road front with Trump-Pence campaign signs! JUST LEAVE THE COUNTRY WE DON’T WANT YOU! Actually I just said the last one because my wall is so conservative, I mean I live in South Carolina. What do you expect, I just wanted to put a burr under my conservative friends’ BVDs and all. You know all in good fun, don’t want to offend you…come on smile a little.

You see, I believe “not being too PC” is simply an invitation to cross the line and be a bully. It’s an easy thing to be a bully hiding behind the keys of a computer after all. The keys are not likely to rise up and punch you in the eye. When a friend or my brother takes me to task on my liberal social leanings I try to pay attention because they normally provide insight and logical reasons…or at the least reasons. When an asshole provides, “I wish all liberals would die!” well, I GET PISSED and that is almost where my tread went. Also I realize somewhere there is a liberal asshole writing “I wish all conservatives would die!” I just don’t see a lot of those because my wall is so…right…I mean so conservative.

“Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me” is a damn lie invented by a gray-haired grandmother to take the pain away caused by the sting of the spoken or printed word. “But I was just speaking my mind” in many cases crosses the line between speaking your mind and verbally slapping someone across the chops. That is why I am choosing civility…that and my normal peace keeping tendencies. I will weigh my words carefully. Why use a nuclear bomb when a ruler across the palm of the hand is enough? Oh wait, you don’t believe in corporal punishment…Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.

For more of Don Miller’s unique views of life and humor try http://goo.gl/lomuQf

“ADDIE” OAKLEY In honor of my Grandmother’s 115th. birthday

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Being a Southern male I do hate to have to admit that when it comes to “shootin’” I can’t hit a “bull in the butt with a banjo…or a bass fiddle.” Because of my inability to draw a bead on the proverbial “broadside of the barn,” I choose to exercise my “God given” right to follow the second amendment using a double-barreled shotgun that sports the shortest legal barrel I can own. Loaded with bird shot, it will shred a mosquito at twenty feet. Loaded with buck shot it will blow a six-inch hole in a door at ten feet…not that I have done either. Man, I feel so manly just talking about it. When it comes to shooting my thirty-eight magnum handgun, you are as safe as a baby in its crib if I am aiming at you. I cannot guarantee your safety if you are standing behind me however. No matter how manly I sound or how Southern I am, I do hate guns. I shouldn’t.

Having a gun is a Southern rite of passage and, although we weren’t hunters, I grew up around my dad’s and grandmother’s twenty-twos and my grandfather’s hammered 12-gauge. That old-fashioned gun was a beauty with a thirty-six inch barrel. I remember him using it only once because, like me, he left the shooting up to his wife. That statement has to do more with my “rifle-toting” grannie, who could shoot the eye out of a varmint at one hundred yards, than with my wife, who has given up hunting due to my dislike of sitting in dark, cold and damp treestands. “Addie” Oakley, “Dead-Eye” Addie or “Sure Shot” Addie…you can take your pick of monikers because they all fit. I don’t know who taught her to shoot but she had a keen eye and a steady grip despite her odd way of holding her twenty-two rifle. Instead of jamming the butt of the rifle against her shoulder, she laid the stock on top of her shoulder turning the rifle to the side. Whatever worked I guess.

Some of my earliest memories of my grandmother include her twenty-two. She carried it everywhere not knowing when she might need it. Whether it was rats at the barn, snakes or a varmint attacking the livestock, she was going to be ready. I once witnessed her shoot a stray dog that was attacking our milk cow on a distant hill inside of our pasture. She yelled trying to “Shoo it off” but when the dog continued its attack, she calmly put a round through its eye while it was on the move…at one hundred yards if it was a foot. Nannie had tears in her eyes as she buried the old mongrel but she had saved the cow.

With her love for birds, snakes were fair game, but she did draw a line at cats. There was no such thing as a good snake and don’t try to explain to her that rat snakes eat rats. They also eat chicken eggs and birds and that was enough for her. King snakes were tolerated because they killed other bird predators so I was taught at an early age how to recognize them. I once saw her put sixteen rounds into a black rat snake that was attacking a nest. Every time she hit it, the snake would wrap itself more tightly around the limb until it moved enough for her to get a head shot. It was shot full of holes. Once returning from her garden through a tangled archway of out-of-control privet, she stopped and “shushed me” while placing the butt of her rifle on her shoulder. In the middle of a patch of iris under her bedroom window, I saw a snake. It was reared up, mocking a cobra without the cowl, its head moving side to side like a periscope. Nannie’s little twenty-two cracked causing me to jump and the snake fell from view. This she did despite it being silhouetted against her bedroom window. No broken glass but when we got there, no snake either. I remember saying in an accusatory voice, “Ya missed!” She pointed at a leaf and said no I didn’t. There was a small spot of blood on the leaf but I’m not sure I believed her until the next morning. As we made our morning trek to the garden, we found a dead coachwhip snake with a bullet wound under its jaw. It had hung itself on a privet root. Don’t mess with “Dead-Eye” Addie or accuse her of missing!

One of the oddest rituals involving Nannie’s rifle was the making of meals. It wasn’t a utensil but the kitchen windows gave her a view of a big cedar tree which had become a feeding station for her birds. Washing dishes or creating the best biscuits known to man, her vision was always focused on those feeders. Periodically, she would stop, wipe off her hands, pick up her rifle and fire a round through the window screen. She would try to fire through previously made holes but that was somewhat impossible and her screen had several twenty-two-sized holes. There would be a “bang” and then she would tell me that a copperhead or sick sparrow had gone to its maker. Nannie would then go back to her biscuit making waiting to move the body later.

So how bad is my marksmanship? As good as she was, I am that bad. Once I went squirrel hunting with a 12-gauge and the squirrel and dumplings ended up being filled with birdshot. Another time early in our marriage when Linda still had ideas about hunting, we were disturbed by what we thought was an intruder. It wasn’t; more than likely it was just one of our ghosts that traipses through the hallways of our old farmhouse late at night. Linda grabbed her Browning 243 while I picked up my baseball bat. Neither had to be used. That is a good thing because…come to think of it, I was never a great hitter either.

For more Southern rural humor by Don Miller click on http://goo.gl/lomuQf

THE END IS NEAR

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“We are in the end of times!” “We are in the days of Revelations!” So much doom and gloom. I am reminded of the street preachers on Bourbon Street when Linda Gail and I visited New Orleans, the “Sin City with Southern Charm.” We were on our honeymoon and later on our anniversary. Those preachers were shouting the same thing from every corner. “Your time is near! Repent your sins.” Irreverently, I am also reminded of the children’s story about a chicken running around yelling, “The sky is falling, the sky is falling!”

I don’t deny that MY time is near and the sands are running out of MY hourglass. I don’t know of anyone who is going to get out of this life alive anyway, but as a person who believes…hopes he is a Christian, I really don’t know what we are to do if it truly is… (gothic organ music) … “The End of Times.” Are we to sit patiently in prayer waiting? Should we put on our “sackcloth and ashes?” “So I gave my attention to the Lord God to seek Him by prayer and supplications, with fasting, sackcloth and ashes.” Are we to do nothing? I cannot NOT be proactive even if proactive is just going on with life “for its own sake.” I am a retired coach and I cannot NOT compete even if it is for my last breath.

My problem or one of my problems is, if this is the “end of times” it’s because we as humans have fallen down on the job. We have failed ourselves and God. Whether it is global climate change or loving thy neighbor, I am seeing fewer and fewer people attempting to make this world better and are opting to say “Prepare…we are nearing the days of Judgement.” That may be true but should we not be attempting to correct issues and make our world a better place. Throwing up our hands is throwing in the towel. Have we forgotten “God helps those who help themselves?” I know that is really not in the Bible but it probably should be. Had I written the Bible I would have put it in there.

My second problem is “What if it is not the end of times?” According to Matthew in the King James Bible, “And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.” Do we not owe it to ourselves as good humans to act a little more “Christ like?” even if you are not a Christian. Jesus exemplified characteristics such as faith, hope, charity, patience, humility, purity, diligence, and obedience, characteristics seemingly to be in short supply recently on our little blue ball and characteristics that should be shared by all religions.

Do what you want. I am going to choose to be proactive. I am going to choose to fight and I don’t mean go out and dig a bunker to survive Armageddon in. I am not only going to try to be good, I’m going to TRY AND DO good. You know the “Love thy Neighbor”, be good to the poor, try to be uplifting kind of good that was taught by Jesus of Nazareth and modelled by Jimmy Carter. I want to be THAT role model for my daughter and grandchildren. If it is truly “The End of Days,” I would just a soon be surprised anyway.

For more of Don Miller’s unique views of life and humor try http://goo.gl/lomuQf

IN DEFENSE OF KIDS

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I have to speak in front of our local Lion’s Club, well I don’t have to, I agreed to. The subject is kids, something I should know something about having taught and coached them for over forty years. As any educator will tell you, JUST WHEN YOU THINK YOU HAVE SEEN IT ALL, THEY WILL DO SOMETHING TO MAKE YOU REALIZE YOU DON’T. However, even saying that, I BELIEVE KIDS ARE STILL KIDS. I read or see our next generations being characterized as entitled, elitist, dumb, stupid, weak, soft, lazy or gullible…should I go on? No because I believe, like a lot of “OLDER GENERATIONS,” we are not giving them their just dues.

There were entitled, elitist, dumb, stupid, weak, soft, lazy and gullible kids throughout my teaching career. What has changed is not the younger generations, what has changed is the world we live in. Technology, social media, the destruction of the middle class forcing parents to work longer to put basic necessities on the table, national media focusing upon the negatives that sell rather than the positives that don’t and giving out trophies to everyone who participates in any an extracurricular activity are just some of the reasons that SEEM to make kids appear to be different, weak and entitled. They are different but different doesn’t necessarily mean bad, and if it is bad, it’s because we, the previous generation, have made it that way.

These new generations do things differently than “our generation” …the same way that I did things differently than my parents and my parents did things differently than their parents. I don’t think any of us want to go back to planting seeds by hand or using a seed drill pulled by horses to put beans on the table the way my grandparents did. This “new generation” doesn’t learn the same way that we did nor even work the same way we did…if they are lucky enough to find a job. I don’t believe we want to give up our computers, smart phones or data processing software for an abacas or wax board, rotary phone or old Royal typewriter with correction fluid. I do call my daughter when I need to program some new form of technology.

Maybe I am looking through rose colored glasses because I was always associated with good kids for the most part. There were a few little “Johnnies” but not many. I don’t think I am suffering from cognitive dissonance because I taught at many different types of schools; urban and rural, large and small, economically entitled with over a ninety percent college attendance rate, unentitled schools where kids were more likely to go into military service, predominately white and predominately other races. I found kids to be nothing more than kids who wanted to learn, who wanted to be taught boundaries, who wanted someone to listen to them and give them some attention. The only difference seemed to be that the modern generation tended to use the word teachers and coaches hated the most…” Why?” “Why do we need to learn this or why are we having to do this.” “Because I said so” was not the best answer to provide.

Children of all ages, races and socio-economic standing want attention and, unfortunately, it really doesn’t matter whether it is negative or positive. They want love and will look for it wherever they can find it; at home with their family, in church organizations, with positive mentors or with drugs, gangs or bad interpersonal relationships. That was true fifty years ago and it is true now. Unfortunately, the numbers involved in negative activities seems to have increased.

That is where you and I, the old generation, comes in. We need to bridge gaps whether it is through the Lion’s Club, the Phyllis Wheatly Center, tutoring, the Y or just coaching a little league team. All we are doing is investing a little time to insure the successes of our next generation.

For more unique life stories or posts by Don Miller visit his author’s page at http://goo.gl/lomuQf

EVERYONE SUCKS 2016

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My brother put a campaign poster in his front yard, EVERYBODY SUCKS 2016. According to him, and I believe him, a Trump supporter left a letter suggesting that since he was so disgruntled he might consider “moving to Uganda.” I am unsure of why Uganda? If life gets so bad in these United States I am probably not going to pick a corrupt, violent and land locked country in Africa. I would just take my chances and stay put in my little piece of heaven that is landlocked in the corrupt and violent nation of the United States or move to a country with a lot of coastline, sea breezes, dark rum AND scantily clad beach bunnies.

I find my brother interesting. More than I would ever admit to him personally so don’t dare let him know I said such a thing. He tends to be irreverent, infuriating and refuses to admit that he is probably as much a SOCIAL liberal as his older brother. Well, nearly. I am probably closer to some of his conservative ideas than I would EVER admit to. Despite this fact, there is STILL plenty for us to disagree upon. This is not one of THOSE disagreements however…yet. It may become one.

“If you are unhappy with the US just leave” seems to be the patriotic “cover all” when someone uses their First Amendment rights to suggest that there might be a “fly in the soup” that is the United States. I’ve seen it directed toward Colin Kaepernick and any other athlete who dared to kneel during the National Anthem, toward BLM protesters in general, Muslims citizens or refugees, gay and lesbians, transgender, anyone who mentions gun control, even entertainers, etc. AND NOW MY BROTHER. It is beginning to look like a very crowded pool…and I don’t mean gene pool.

For some reason “If you are unhappy with the US just leave” reminded me of another “patriotic” quote I heard a lot during my childhood and teen years in the Fifties and Sixties. “My Country Right or Wrong.” Anyone of my age remember that? I have an idea I learned of it during a civics class or as I like to think of it “Cold War Propaganda 101.” It became the mantra of our jingoism or extreme patriotism and is originally attributed to Steven Decater of USS Philadelphia fame during the First Barbary War. Carl Schurz (a German revolutionary, American statesman and reformer, U.S. Minister to Spain, Union Army General in the American Civil War, Secretary of the Interior, accomplished journalist, newspaper editor and orator, who in 1869 became the first German-born American elected to the United States Senate) is responsible for another similar quote that I am much more comfortable with. “My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right.”

I would guess my brother’s anonymous letter leaver probably prefers the Steven Decater version. I find saying that My Country, right or wrong,” is somewhat like saying “My Mother, drunk or sober” and I just can’t see my mother drunk. I would think a sober country would be in all our best interest, setting wrongs right rather than suggesting dissenting folk just leave. What would happen if our potential Albert Einsteins, Enrico Fermis or Joseph Conrads decided to take us up on our suggestion, much like the real ones did when faced with the Nazi takeover of Germany. Do we want some of our best just to leave? Remember the only difference between our nuclear program and the Soviet nuclear program were our German scientist. (By the way, you should not take that as a reference to Godwin’s Law)

When I viewed my country during my youth I saw us “wearing white hats,” the cavalry coming to the rescue in the nick of time. As I have gotten older, and hopefully wiser, I have found that not to be true. I still love my country and believe it has done great things despite some bad intentions. I still hold out hope we can unite to do GREATER things for the BEST of intentions…yet.

For more subtle humor by Don Miller visit his author’s page at http://goo.gl/lomuQf

VOICES

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If I go missing interrogate the squirrels, they are gathering nuts for the winter

Allow me the illusion that I am not crazy…rephrase…allow me the illusion I am not insane. I am crazy but not to the point of tearing wings off of flies, wearing tin foil hats or using those last words “Hey y’all watch this.” I’m more like Jimmy Buffett’s “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes, if we weren’t all crazy we’d all go insane” crazy. However, I do hear voices and am crazy enough to believe they are attempting to tell me something…possibly something important. It has grown quite crowded in my head lately as a chorus of voices attempt to lead me down a path that is on the straight and narrow…or not.

The voices I hear are usually having some type of debate…or an argument may be a better description. I am reminded of the angel and devil from Animal House or maybe the food fight. Yes, more like dozens of angels and devils throwing food at each other while they debate the eternal damnation of my soul. A chorus of former acquaintances metaphorically yelling “F@#$ her, F@#$ her brains out,” followed by the chorus of former dead church members, led by the angelic voice of my mother, countering with “Fore shame Donald, I am surprised at you!” All the while, creamed potatoes are flying through the air. Maybe I should rethink that statement about insanity.
For the last few days my voices have sounded like shrill blue jays having such a particularly raucous squabble, my ear buds and running can’t seem to drown them out. Usually running will drown out everything except the pain of my running.

These are depressing voices…trying to pull me down by taking advantage of my predisposition toward depression. Voices heralding the end of the world, protest, death… disrespect. For some reason Stephen Stills voice reverberates with the words from “For What It’s Worth,” …” Paranoia strikes deep, Into your life it will creep, It starts when you’re always afraid, You step out of line, the man come and take you away.” A voice I can’t recognize points out, “Maybe the world hasn’t changed that much, maybe we are still protesting the same things. Maybe this is a never ending film loop. Maybe….” Other voices try and shout him down point out how fine things were until President Obama opened up a Pandora’s Box full of racism and somehow created ISIS.

I wonder about the order of issues bellowed out by my voices; end of the world, protest, death…disrespect. Another voice is now asking if a lack of respect for ourselves is the underlying culprit. Yet another is shouting “No it is the devaluation of life…if there is a lack of respect it is for the sanctity of life…my life and the lives of those I love.” More cacophony of dissonance…or is it? My angel and devil have now some taken on the persona of our presidential candidates…except I don’t know which is which, angel or devil.

It is a beautiful Sunday morning for a walk and run but I worry my voices will ruin it for me. Despite my trepidation I push on. My exertions seem to have quieted the voices. They became quieter and quieter as I ran along. While not in unison, as the quiet themselves they all began to ask the same question, a simple one-word question…” Why?” Their silence now worries me more than their question. Could it be their silence is an admission that there is no answer to the question?

For more unique life stories by Don Miller visit his author’s page at http://goo.gl/lomuQf

WITH APOLOGIES TO AN EX

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To quote coaching chum Duke Fisher, “Well Miller, you have stepped on your d@#$ again.” Yep, I fully admit to it and I am sorry.

I have a bad habit of trying to be funny. The bad habit is, despite my attempts, sometimes I am not at all funny…and sometimes I may hurt people’s feelings along the way. I don’t always feel regret when I hurt people’s feelings, those who I THINK deserve it, but I feel great regret when I say things without thinking them through and hurting people who don’t deserve it.

I wrote a teaser to advertise one of my books and included a “whimsical shot” at my ex. It was nothing more than an attempt to sell a book or fifteen and to be humorous. It would appear that I have failed on both counts. “Which ex do you ask?” For those of you who don’t know, I am not proud to announce, “I have two ex-wives.” I am also not proud to announce, “It was probably, mostly, my fault that I have two ex-wives.” I can give all types of excuses but in all honesty the bottom line is, “I was an immature jerk.” I also believe there is a “universal” plan in effect and that, for at least one of us, having exes was a good, if selfish, thing. I have managed to find the third time charm. I just celebrated my thirtieth anniversary with Linda Gail. This one might work out but I am taking no chances.

Both of my exes are fine people who have gone on with their lives…amazingly without me. The mother of my child did a wonderful job of raising our daughter into a woman and mother in her own right, that we both can be proud of, and with very little input from me. She did it while pursuing a career and maintaining her own household.

My teaser informed my possible readers that “If I ever need a heart transplant, I’d want my ex’s. It’s never been used.” It is just a teaser. Both of my exes are retired educators. That should tell you all you need to know about their hearts. Again, so sorry for my faux pas. You should realize how sorry I am since I used the little puppy dog meme. I promise never to attempt to use humor at your expense again.

I do have one request Facebook friends. Can we keep this between the thousand or so of you and me. Linda Gail already knows how stupid I can be.

However, if you wish to read more of my unique humor try clicking on http://goo.gl/lomuQf

COMEDIC COACH

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I never thought well in the heat of the moment. I can’t tell you how many times over my forty-three years of coaching I have thought hours later, “I wish I had said that instead of standing like an idiot.” The following are funny and sometimes irreverent comebacks or statements about football situations that I wish I had used had I been bright enough or quick enough. I would guess I should say that some of these are R rated.

• Heard during a tackling drill: “Son that hit sounded like a mouse pissing on a cotton ball.”
• Said to one of our honor student football players: “You are the stupidest smart kid I have ever coached!”
• Getting ready for a certain team drill: “Half you guys over here, half you guys over there, the rest of you behind me.”
• Describing the blocking ability of our offensive line: “They couldn’t knock a sick squirrel off a commode.”
• A favorite of a former assistant: “If ifs and butts were candy and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Christmas!”
• Lou Holtz during a film session to an offensive lineman: “I know you just got married but all holes don’t have to have hair around them.”
• During a scrimmage: “You are playing like old people screw. It’s slow, it’s disgusting and somebody is going to get hurt.”
• To an offensive tackle after missing a block: “Give me your helmet! I’m going to roll it out there and hope someone trips over it.”
• Along the same lines: “We’d do better with a cardboard cutout playing corner back.”
• To a running back: “Son you couldn’t escape from a wet paper bag.”
• Overheard after the HC said, “Men, the team with the biggest d@#$s will win this game!” A smart aleck from the back row said, “Coach, were in trouble. I’ve seen us all in the shower!”
• NC State defensive end Ronnie Banther when asked by Coach Lew Holtz if he could whip an Ohio State All-American offensive tackle. “NO SIR! BUT I’LL FIGHT HIM TILL I DIE!”
• From another assistant “He was so confused he didn’t know whether to scratch his watch or wind his ass.”
• An opposing coach: “You are so stupid you could fall in a barrel of titties and come out sucking your thumb.”
• From a friend talking about our passing game: “It’s like Halloween. Looks scary but it ain’t real.”
• Finally, my favorite, after blowing the same three assignments in a row, “It’s hard to believe you were the fastest sperm.”

Hope you enjoyed. For more unique humor you might wish to purchase one of Don Miller’s books at http://goo.gl/lomuQf