Hey, it’s easy to have fun when you have a lot of, y’know, things to have fun with. I mean, who wouldn’t enjoy having lots of really cool stuff such as fancy clothes, a nice car, or a genuine pair of rocket boots? I mean, c’mon!

The thing is, the opposite can be just as true. You can truly have a lot of fun with very little. Hey, just ask the average little kid who has less fun with the toy than the box it came in. It’s mainly a matter of attitude.

Yeah, I’m always thinkin’ (sound of grinding gears) along these lines at this time of year, and it happens ‘cause of the Main Event. See, around these here parts, and more specifically our house, the Main Event is the annual Setting Up The Christmas Tree (sound of cheering).

The Main Event

Now, in a normal year, our tree makes its customary appearance like clockwork on the day after Thanksgiving. Although last year, in a rather daring and unprecedented move, we set it up the weekend before, thanks to a combination of Thanksgiving-day family get-togethers. (Mrs. MZM decorated the bare tree with a few pumpkins and some colorful leaves, just so it wouldn’t feel neglected and lonely. She’s such a sweetheart.)

Unfortunately, this year we got off to a kinda slow start – but I think we’ll leave that tale for another day. Suffice it to say, for the first time in quite a while, our tree didn’t get put up until the weekend AFTER Thanksgiving. (Oh the humanity! It was like… uh, like… darkness settled upon the land, and voices of young children cried softly in the night… Or something.)

Anyhoo, over the years we’ve amassed quite a collection of decoratin’ stuff, thanks to having traveled so much. We’ve got, let’s see, your typical spherical ornaments in various sizes and colors, some fairly old ornaments from Mrs. MZM’s childhood, as well as a veritable plethora of assorted little figures of angels, stars, etc. There are also things that fall into the “greenery” category (although most of them aren’t actually green but gold, silver or whatever). Finally (and these are my favorites), we have about a zillion glass icicles of various and sundry designs.

As I place each of the aforementioned items on the tree (I’m the designated tree trimmer in our household; Mrs. MZM does the rest of the house), I can’t help but reminisce about some of my own past Christmases, and the trees my family had back then. I’m tellin’ ya, it’s amazing how the decorations have changed over time.

An Old-Fashioned Christmas

OK, back to my initial point.

One year – I guess I was about 8 or 9 years old – my family decided that we would have an “old-fashioned Christmas” and cover our tree with nothing but hand-made decorations that year. Looking back, I realize it was a way for the family to economize, but issues like that were “above my pay grade”, if you get my meanin’. ‘Course, my sister and I didn’t notice that little detail; we were ecstatic because it meant we pretty much got to make everything ourselves! Definitely an “Oooh, shiney!” moment.

So – what’s the one essential ingredient to making homemade old-fashioned decorations? Why, popcorn, of course! Needless to say, this was gonna be a cinch. We immediately made, oh, about a barrel of popcorn (you have to make allowances for, er, attrition, if you follow me) and gathered all the necessary materials: brightly colored wrapping paper, karo syrup, and lots and lots of string.

Luckily, making popcorn decorations is really easy. With the paper you make cone-shaped baskets for holding loose popcorn. And, popcorn balls are easy to make with Karo syrup, don’cha know. The most fun, though was making endless strings of popcorn for garlands. Put ‘em all together and voila! you have an old-fashioned Christmas tree! Yeehaw!

Imagine, if you will, a veritable tornado of excited activity (accompanied by appropriate Christmas music, of course) surrounding a Christmas tree, and you’ll have a pretty good image of our decorating effort that afternoon. Within hours, it was finished!

I’ll tell ya; I’ve never forgotten the fun we had that Christmas. Imagine – nothing fancy, no expensive (or even cheap) ornaments, just popcorn, paper and string. What a great lesson for us as children – that we could have that much fun with so little. I’ve never forgotten it.

So what about you? Care to share a similar time in your Christmas past?

By all means, you’re welcome to pop it in the comment box below. Don’t worry; I’ll leave the light on for ya!

______________________

By the way, the story doesn’t quite end there.

Once the excitement finally died down and the (inevitable) mess cleaned up, what was left of the day proceeded as usual. Around 5:30 or so, Dad got home from work; Mom (bless her heart) had dinner ready by six. Naturally, conversation during most of mealtime was about the fun we had making the decorations and trimming the tree.

Suddenly, we heard a soft, sorta swish sound coming from the living room. It stopped conversation dead, it was so unexpected. My sister was closest to the door to the living room, so she sneaked up to the door and peeked around the corner.

Did the Christmas tree fall over? Was Santa early? Or maybe it was a burglar, breaking in to steal those incredibly wonderful decorations we’d worked so hard on. I’m tellin’ ya, I was ready to jump up and defend them to the death!

Surprisingly, though, as soon as she got her head around the corner she started laughing. So, no burglar. At least, not exactly.

Apparently, we had completely forgotten about the cat.

Yep; in our absence, the cat (Napoleon Solo – named after the then-popular TV show, The Man From Uncle. Hey, what can I say?) had discovered all those delectable decorations and had climbed into the tree (knocking a few things off in the process) to partake of the feast thereof.

Who knew cats liked popcorn?

______________________

Photo credit: Popcorn Strings, by flavouredechoes

______________________

Ran across an interesting question on Twitter a few weeks ago: Writers, have you ever faced harsh criticism?

I must admit that question strikes a chord with me. Oh, not necessarily from something that happened here at Middle Zone Musings or anything. I’m happy to report that, since I started writing here at the Zone, there have only been a couple of instances when someone decided to, er, let me have it.

What was it about, you ask? Well, suffice it to say, said criticism had absolutely nothing to do with my ability to write, if you get my meanin’. Thankfully, things have pretty much always been fairly even-keeled around here. I suppose, in a way, it’s a welcome vindication of my goal that the Zone appeal to as many folks as possible.

Anyhoo, getting’ back to the subject…

Lookin’ a mite further back, though, I remember all those English teachers I faced from grade school on up through college. But I suppose we all wrestled with them as we grew up. Par for the course, right? So, on the whole, I’d say I’ve done OK.

Ah, but what about undeserved criticism vis a vis your writing ability? Now that’s a critter of a different hue, wouldn’t ya say? I remember this one, um, professor (imagine the word forced out through clenched teeth – but don’t worry; I’m over it now) from my first year in college…

Firm Foundation

Now ya gotta understand, y’all; I started reading at an early age and loved it. Back when I was a kid (that’s human, not goat), while everyone else was outside playing in the sandbox, you’d more than likely find me over in a quiet corner somewhere reading a book.

Even back then science fiction was my favorite (and still is, for that matter). Not that one type of reading matter is better than any other type, mind you, but I’ve always believed reading sci-fi stories is what helped jump start a broad technical vocabulary, not to mention help point me towards my current career in engineering. (At least that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.)

Well, once I grasped the fundamentals of writing (somewhere along about High School) I always got good grades on writing assignments. Plus, along the way I discovered writing was sorta fun – especially when I was allowed to let loose my imagination, y’know?

Suffice it to say, then, that I was fairly confident in my ability to string words together in a way that not only managed to say what I wanted to them to say, but I could say it in a way that would satisfy pretty much anyone. Until, as I said, I started college.

Rude Awakening

My first-year encounter with college was quite an adjustment, I’ll tell ya! Not only was it my first time living away from home, but it wasn’t long before I ran smack dab into a particularly hard truth about college life. The fact is, the word school took on a whole new meaning for me. See, up until then, going to school wasn’t really a choice, y’know? I mean, I had to go whether I liked it or not.

I quickly discovered, however, that now I was surrounded by folks who had actually chosen to be there. (Imagine that!) And I’m not exaggerating in the least when I say that put a whole ‘nuther hump on the camel, if you get my meanin’.

Even the teachers (oops, professors) were different. Although most of them genuinely seemed to like what they were doing, there were a few who sorta, er, stood out from the herd – both good and bad. And I’ll tell ya; nobody was worse than… Dr. Dead! (flash of lighting, crack of thunder, sound of terrified scream)

Dr. Dead

Now, at first blush you may be thinkin’ to yerself, Hey, that’s a pretty harsh moniker to give a college professor! Where’s the respect, Bubba? But hear me out, my friends; hear me out as I relate to you what happened on that fateful first day in English 101.

Here’s the scene: It’s your typical college classroom, complete with room-spanning blackboard at the front (yes, we used blackboards back then – and please, no snide “age” comments from the peanut gallery, thank you very much) along with a wooden teacher’s desk that had obviously seen better days. About 25 of us were seated in metal and/or wooden student’s desks, back packs at our feet, freshly-scrubbed faces eager and ready for our first exposure to, y’know, what we laughingly refer to as “higher eddicashun” (that’s “education” for you upper-crust types).

Anyway, once we all got situated, an old man tottered in and headed for the desk at the front. (Yes, he really “tottered”. Seriously.) Upon reaching the desk, he turned around, sat down on the edge and crossed his legs like a talk show host. Then he crossed his arms as well, all the while giving us the once-over with his steely gaze. (For you “body language” gurus: what would that posture tell you?) Then:

“Good morning; my name is (name redacted to protect, er, me),” he began in his thin, reedy voice. “This is English 101, and for those of you who may have heard this is a tough class… well, they are quite correct.”

He continued in this vein for a few minutes, and I could see the other students’ eyes reflecting the same sense of impending doom I was beginning to feel. After a while, he began to talk about his “style”, and that’s when it started getting a mite, um, surreal.

“Now some of you may consider yourselves to be good, or even excellent at your use of the English language.” He paused to survey the room, making sure he had all our attention, then – well, that’s when he lowered the ol’ boom on us. “I want you to understand this fact: I will be the sole judge of your ability to write. It doesn’t matter what you think; my opinion is the only one that matters here. I am sixty-four and one-half years old, and only six months from retirement, so we’re going to do this class my way, and my way only!”

There was more, but I’m tellin’ ya, at this point it was so quiet a dropped pin woulda sounded like a 30-car pileup; I don’t think any of us even dared breathe for a few moments. I mean, what the heck was this? It was after that first class when I overheard a couple of other students use the name, “Dr. Dead”. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for that little gem to stick.

He Lived Up To His Name

I’ll tell ya, when he told us his way was the only way, he wasn’t kidding! Our first paper was due the very next class (and for those of you who don’t know, English 101 is pretty much ALL writing “papers”) and I knew it was going to either make or break me as far as this class was concerned. Although I admit my confidence was a mite shaken, at that point I wasn’t too worried. I mean, I had already proven I was pretty good at it, right? (He said, nervously.)

Well, I turned my paper in on time (of course). When we met next, I was running a bit late, so by the time I arrived Dr. Dead was already handing out our graded papers. As he delivered each one I tried to see if there were any clues as to the results.

Yup, sure enough. It was kinda like watchin’ wallpaper fade (albeit a mite faster). Each face reflected the same sequence of reactions. First, there was a widening of the eyes in surprise (when they saw their grade), followed by a silent snort of disgust (or its equivalent) as they immediately compared it with their neighbor’s grades. Finally, there was a rolling of the eyes as they realized EVERYONE was as shocked as they were.

I was therefore not too surprised that my own grade was, er, less than stellar; I mean, I’d already seen the movie, if you follow me. Even so, I couldn’t help myself; as soon as I got mine, well, my eyes widened, I snorted – ah, you get the picture, right?

But it wasn’t that the grade starin’ me in the face was, to put it mildly, less that what I expected. I mean, that was bad enough. No, it was the fact that, right up there at the top of the page, there was a big, fat “F”! And in red ink, no less!

What the heck was this!?! I mean, I put my heart and soul into that paper – just so he would know I was better than the average writer, y’know? And this was my reward!? To say I was shocked is something of an understatement.

From Bad To Worse

Well, the class continued along those lines for pretty much the rest of the semester. And on every single paper, no matter what I did, I got almost the same results. (Although I did manage to pull out a “D” on one. I partied for a week.)

To say I was frustrated would be a major insult to the word “frustrated”, I’m tellin’ ya! I had conferences with the man several times, and each time he merely repeated his initial statement: his way or nothing. As the semester ground on, I even met with the Dean of the English Department to complain. Unsurprisingly, I got no help there.

I finally ended up dropping the class in hopes I could retake it with a different professor the next semester. And, although I passed it that second time, suffice it to say that by then my love of writing had pretty much been snuffed out like Smokey the Bear stomping out an unattended campfire in the woods.

I’ll tell ya, folks; I knew when I was beaten. As I look back on it now, I’m sure this little episode went a long way towards squelching my secret boyhood dream to eventually become a successful, rich and famous (not to mention loved by fans everywhere) sci-fi author. Sad, but true. (Not to lessen my own personal responsibility for makin’ the choice, mind you.) But to tell you the truth, I never wrote anything for fun again – until I took up blogging back in 2006.

A Hard Lesson

Well I’m not ashamed to admit I learned a hard lesson from this, y’all, and sad to say, it don’t necessarily paint ol’ yours truly in the best of lights, if you get my meanin’. My only defense, as pitiful as it may be, is that I was younger (and presumably more, well, let’s tell it like it was: stupid) than I am now.

The hard fact is, I’m the one who allowed that professor to dictate how I felt about my own writing – and about myself. In fact, I’ll go ever farther and say this: whether or not I was a good writer was irrelevant to the fact that I let someone else tell me how to feel about myself!

Friends, listen to an old cowboy and learn somethin’, won’t ya? Don’t do that!

As I’ve discovered the hard way, how we feel about ourselves is the one thing we’re pretty much in control of in this life, y’know? This incident, and others like it, taught me how easy it is to take someone else’s self-esteem down a notch or two.

And it doesn’t stop there. No, this sort of thing can have long-term consequences as well. It took quite a few years before I was again willing to risk having someone else read anything I wrote – in my case, 34 years. Yeesh, what a waste! But not to worry, I think I’ve finally gotten over it.

In fact, nowadays it’s gotten to where it’s kinda hard to shut me up. But then, that’s a dog of a different spot, wouldn’t ya say?

_______________________

Photo credit: F, by duncan

_______________________

Been to a museum lately? One thing they’ll generally have a lot of: some of the world’s greatest paintings. As a matter of fact, I’ve even been privileged enough to have laid my very own two eyes on one or two of ‘em, too. Van Gogh… Monet… DaVinci… Yep; I’ve been blessed, I’ll tell ya.

Having said that, though, I’d like you to take a good look, folks, at what I consider to be my very favorite painting of all time. At the moment it’s currently hanging on a wall in my house. But don’t rush for your “World’s Greatest Paintings” Almanac; you won’t find it listed.

Like I said, it’s my favorite. Not because it was painted by a world-renowned artist. Naw, the fellow who painted this (a French painter named Maurice Legendre) isn’t all that well-known, in spite of having been in the art world for a considerable number of years. And no, not because it’s worth a fortune, either. Although … if it was, I could skip step #2 of my plan to make a million dollars! (Step #1: Find a job that pays a million dollars an hour. Step #2: Work 1 hour.*)

No, this painting is my favorite because it’s a souvenir – and a reminder – of the trip my family and I made to Europe back in 1970. (And… just because I really like it.)

See, my dad, who was an engineer at the time for a large global chemical company, managed to wrangle a 9-month-long field assignment to Europe, so naturally he did what anybody else would do if they could – turned it into an extended family vacation for the rest of us! (And lemme just add here, “Way to go, Dad!”)

At least, it was a vacation for us – he had to work. (And yes, my sister and I did have to attend school for the remainder of the semester. But hey, it was, y’know, in Europe!)

Not Quite Reality

Funny thing about paintings, though. No matter how realistic they look, they just aren’t, well, real, y’know? I mean, go to any museum in the world and check out all those portraits. I defy you to find one single pimple on any face. I mean, c’mon; what’re the odds?

No, paintings don’t necessarily reflect reality (although some artists certainly give it a good run for the money). Heck, these days even photographs can be manipulated such that quite often my first thought when I see a particularly unusual one is, “I wonder if it’s been photoshopped?” Hey, am I right?

Anyhoo, this painting was created right there on the bank of the Seine river, just beyond those trees on the right. How do I know that? Well, I remember watching as the artist finished it with swift, sure strokes. (At least, that’s how I remember it, anyway.) The scene is the famous Pont Alexandre III (which is French for “The Bridge Named for Alexander the 3^rd”) as depicted on a rather gray, yet surprisingly luminous, rainy afternoon. (Or is it morning? Hrm…)

But here’s the thing. If you were to actually stand at the painting’s point of view, it wouldn’t quite look like what you see here. As a matter of fact, there’s quite a lot in this painting that, as the sayin’ goes, “ain’t quite right”.

What’s wrong with it, you say? Well, for instance…

The day this was painted – it wasn’t actually raining at all! Nope; it was a beautiful bright and sunny summer day. Oh, and if you check photos of the real Alexander III bridge (you can find plenty on the Internet), the Seine River actually appears to be quite a bit wider than depicted here (although I suppose that could’ve been an artifact of perspective). And, according to my memory (which admittedly ain’t what it used to be – *sigh*), you won’t see the Eiffel Tower from that spot, either.

Oh yeah, and one more thing: see that sailing ship? In order to get a ship that size into that amazingly picturesque position, they would have had to remove every mast on it. Not that you couldn’t; but it would be a huge pain in the, er, nether regions! Even so, I’m not sure you could fit the doggone thing under the bridges – most of ‘em are pretty low to the water. (See that tugboat lookin’ thing next to it? That’s how low boats have to be to fit under most of the bridges across the Seine.)

A License To…

So what’s my point, you ask? Well other than the one on the top of my head, my point is this: so what?

Lemme put it this way. You know what a license is, don’cha? It’s when you get official, recognized permission to do something – as in a hunting license, a driver’s license, or a “license to kill” a la James Bond. But here we’re talkin’ about something a mite “less” tangible: a creative license.

See, painters, writers, inventors – pretty much everyone who’s ever done anything creative in their lives (and yes, that includes when you were a kid and you tried to explain to mom that it was actually your little brother – or was it the dog? – who broke that lamp and not you) all have this wonderful opportunity before them to not only express something inside of them, but to express it in their own uniquely special way. After all, the artist who painted this scene had the real thing there right in front of him. But, by adding his own interpretation to the canvas, made it something unique. It’s not a photograph, after all (and yes, you can be amazingly creative with those, too), it’s an expression.

Speaking on behalf of writers everywhere, I think it’s safe to say we all do something similar. (And no, I’m not admitting to, um, embellishing all the stories you read here at the Zone. C’mon; even if it were true, do you think I’d ever admit it?) [Note from the Proprietor: Just kidding, folks! They’re all true – to the best of my memory, anyway. Honest.]

What I’m sayin’ is, it’s not what we say that makes it unique, interesting, boring, horrifying, humorous or (fill in appropriate descriptive here) – although that certainly plays an important part. Nope; the thing that makes folks keep comin’ back for more is the way we say what we want to say.

It’s like having your own license – a creative license!

__________________________

* OK, I freely admit it: I borrowed my “how to make a million dollars” plan from one of Steve Martin’s comedy routines. But that doesn’t make it any less brilliant. I’m just sayin’.

__________________________

‘Way back at the turn of the century (wow, that sounds like a long time ago, doesn’t it?), I spent four months clean on the other side of the world (from where I usually hang out, that is). I was working on a project in the city of Hsin-Chu, Taiwan. Just so ya know, it’s about an hour’s driving distance southwest of Taipei, situated near the western coast. It was my first time to visit what we in the U.S. call the Far East, and I really enjoyed to the adventure.

Unlike field assignments in the U.S., instead of providing a rental car, the company had assigned me a car and driver to take care of the daily commute from my hotel to the work site. I quickly discovered two wonderful benefits about this arrangement.

First, having a professional in the driver’s seat not only saved me considerable aggravation, it probably saved my life more than once. Man, I thought I knew what wild traffic was like! After all, I’ve been around, y’know? It didn’t take me long, though, to realize I was ‘waaay safer takin’ a back seat on this one, if ya know what I mean.

Second, I soon realized what most mass transit commuters discover for themselves: it’s kinda nice havin’ a little extra free time on your hands while someone else worries about the traffic. And bein’ a bona-fide stranger in a strange land, so to speak, literally everything outside my window was new and interesting. I’m tellin’ ya, Bubba, I could get used to that!

But let’s get back to that first point for bit.

The Joy of Rush Hour

Like I said, rush-hour traffic in Hsin-Chu is pretty bad (and from what I understand, pretty much every other major city in Taiwan, especially Taipei). Like any other city that’s experienced rapid growth in a short time, the number of cars on the road tends to far outstrip the capacity of aforementioned roads. Fact of life, I guess.

On the other hand, one of the benefits of having a professional driver meant we rarely took a main road anywhere. This guy knew every back way, driveway, and byway (not to mention every footpath, sidewalk and mule trail) in the city! I found myself really looking forward to my commute because after all, you never knew what undiscovered path we’d end up on. It was actually a lot of fun.

I mean, we’d go zooming down what here at home we’d call a sidewalk, but to them it was a regular street, with tiny little houses on each side of us, so close I could easily touch them as we zinged past. Every one of ‘em had doors that opened onto the street, and I often wondered what would happen if some poor unsuspecting homeowner decided at the wrong moment to step outside.

Sheesh, it was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Especially when, every now and then, we’d meet a car coming the opposite way. It was a real challenge trying to find a spot big enough so one or the other car could pass and be on their way.

I was always impressed with my driver’s manner, too. No matter what we ran across (well, not literally ran across, you understand), he was the picture of imperturbability. I mean, nothing flapped this guy. Whether it was a case of squeezing by a truckload of ducks (likely not something you’d see too often in the U.S., I’ll bet!) or zooming down a narrow dirt road, dodging the occasional cyclist or two, the guy never once cracked an expression. It was amazing!

Well… except there was this one time…

Grand Prix, Here We Come!

For some reason, on this one morning he had a particularly difficult time finding a route to work that hadn’t been reduced to a parking lot by the omnipresent rush-hour congestion. My driver had to basically pull out every trick in the book, so to speak, just to keep us going in the right direction.

While on one slow car-filled stretch of road, he suddenly turned into what I had at first taken for someone’s driveway. For one crazy moment I thought he might be actually about to commit the cardinal sin of, y’know, turning around (sound of horrified scream) and backtrack for a bit. But no, as soon as we made the turn, I could immediately see it was simply another one of those exceedingly narrow back streets the city is laced with.

I guess the long unimpeded straightaway gave him a bit of inspiration, because as the car thrummed with applied power I saw him breathe deeply and sortof settle into his seat. Fortunately, no unsuspecting homeowners decided to step out their front door and meet their maker in a rather sudden and unexpected way! Unfortunately, the street was a mite narrower than the usual cow path and, just to make things interesting, was also spotted with occasional thick wooden light poles (you know, the kind with street lights and electrical wires strung between them).

I don’t mind tellin’ ya friends, this was a little unusual, even for us!

What was it like, you ask? Well, lemme put it this way: I’ll bet there’s still an imprint in that car’s armrest from where my fingers crunched down on it. At the same time, my stomach tightened up, sweat started seeping outta my brow, and just for good measure, had I been a swearin’ man I’da sworn my butt cheeks clenched onto that seat and held on dear life!

Yeah, it was sorta like that.

Hey, you wanna talk about a wild ride! We zoomed down that lane like we were running the Grand Prix, dodging houses, cyclists and little old grandmas (not to mention the occasional dog) like they were standing still! I don’t mind tellin’ ya, this was a tad more excitement than I had signed up for!

After a minute or two, though, I was able to accept the fact that we probably weren’t going to die just yet and that the driver had things well in hand. So, with a major effort of will, I began to relax a bit (although I don’t think I, er, let go of the seat, if you get my meanin’).

Then, just when I was (almost) able to breathe normally again – that’s when it happened.

As we zipped through one of the particularly narrow spots between a stone wall on the right and one of those previously mentioned light poles on the left, I heard a sudden sharp thump as our left mirror didn’t – quite – make it past that pole! Understand now; we never slowed down at all.

From the back seat, I could see my driver’s eyes in the rear view mirror, and to this day I’ll never forget his reaction. I looked at him, and he looked at me. Then, without cracking an expression of any kind, he briefly raised an eyebrow. Then, of course, his face immediately went back to its normal imperturbable expression as we kept on going. Yep, that was the extent of his visible emotion!

I’ll tell ya, folks, I’ve never forget that moment. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. And come to think of it, it was… inspirational!

I mean, here was a guy who was good – really good – at what he does. It reminded me of the old Pony Express – nothing was gonna stop this guy from delivering the goods (even if the “goods” was little ol’ me). He knew how to focus on the job at hand and get it done!

So next time you find yourself facing a challenging goal, take a lesson from my former driver. Focus on your goal and fasten your seatbelt. Then take a deep breath and clench those cheeks, Bubba…

Then floor it!

_________________________

Where I work there’s this long, man-made lake that surrounds the campus. Some days, when the urge strikes me for a bit of exercise, I enjoy a brisk walk around the lake after lunch.

The other day I encountered this little fellow standing in the water, patiently waiting for dinner to come within reach of his long bill. (No doubt he was practicing his crane technique. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Get it? Crane technique? Er, sorry.)

Understandably, he became a mite nervous as I approached, kinda watching me over his shoulders while still keepin’ an eye out for food. He gronked at me a few times, perhaps attempting to let me know in his eloquent way that this was his hunting spot. (Or maybe he just had a bit of indigestion?)

After a few minutes of standing his ground (or, in this case, water), he decided discretion was the better part of valor and noisily flapped off to a new spot a little farther down the shore. I could almost hear the huff as he grumbled to himself about “that rude interloper”.

Y’know, as far back as I can remember, I’ve always been fascinated by bodies of water, large and small. When I was a kid, my parents had this rustic cabin on a little spring-fed lake up in East Texas. We’d visit as often as we could, and without fail, the first thing I’d do on arrival (after makin’ sure I had my trusty compass and pocket knife – after all, it was a good, er, 50 feet away) was head for the lake.

I’m tellin’ ya, I could spend hours just gazing into those mysterious waters, imagining all kinds of hidden treasure, monstrous creatures, or lost civilizations down there. Quite often, curious fish would nose up near the shore to check out the newcomer, as if to say, ‘Sup, Dude?

Yep, it was great to have the freedom to figuratively stop the world and get off, y’know? I can still recall the soothing sounds of the breeze as it gently rustled about a billion colorful leaves in the trees above. The smell of the water and plants filled my lungs with its uplifting… well, freshness, for lack of a better term. Sunlight twinkled cheerfully from wind-blown ripples, giving everything an almost magical sparkle, like twinklings of light in the very air itself.

Most of all, I remember that delicious feeling of utter… peace. Yep; all was well.

Alas, that was then. These days, I don’t get to spend much time gazing across the waters, although I do appreciate the almost daily glimpse outside. I don’t imagine anything much is hidden under the surface, either, except a few turtles. I guess I’ve gotten a little too busy for that these days.

A shame, that.

___________________________

Ever feel like you’ve missed the road to prosperity? Yeah, sometimes it feels that way to me, too. In fact, once I had the chance to make the turn – but passed it by. (Cue rimshot: ba-da-bing!

(In case you’re wondering, the road to Prosperity is in South Carolina, off Interstate 26, not too far from Columbia. Just sayin’.)

Yeah, I know. Sadly, these days quite a few folks are lookin’ for that opportunity to come knocking on our doors. And I’m not talking about having the next winning lottery ticket come floating in the window, either – although it makes for a nice daydream… No, they’re actually looking for the chance to, y’know do something.

See, I know what it’s like to have things swept out from under you; things like a job, a bank account, and perhaps even a direction in life. More times than I’d like to admit. But hey, who ever said life is supposed to be fair? It happens. The most important thing, though, is what happens after that. You know what I mean, right? It’s what comes next that really defines who you are.

So, just for the fun of it, let’s take a quickie test. Let’s say that life has suddenly taken a turn for the worse and the giant bluebird of happiness has just, ahem, pooped on your parade, if you know what I mean.

Would you:

a)   throw a tantrum
b)   blame “the system”
c)   demand somebody, y’know, do something
d)  try again, or try something else.

Now, chances are, if you are taking the time to read this, I would be willing to bet your answer is very likely d) try again, or try something else. Well… I’m afraid you’d only be part right. The real answer is e) all of the above. (Yes, it was a trick question. Please don’t sue me. I have nothing.)

In fact, every time I’ve experienced a sudden change in fortunes (meanin’ a downward change, of course – it’s not likely many folks would be too upset about an upward change in fortune), I’ve had to work my way through pretty much all of those reactions. (Surely you remember the stages of grief?) Hey, it’s the way we’re made, after all.

But the problem isn’t the struggle we experience while shuffling through those times. Nope, that’s not the point at all. After all, if you’re, y’know, alive, then it’s pretty much a given that life will occasionally hand you lemons. No, the thing that separates us from the herd is what we do choose to do with those lemons. And if you don’t make it all the way from a) through d) and on to e) – well, you missed it.

I gotta admit; it’s very, very tempting to sorta “hole up” at any one of those early stages. After all, wallowing in self-pity does bring its own strange kind of satisfaction. The only problem is, it gets you absolutely nowhere. You can’t actually solve anything while you’re there. I know; I’ve tried.

Nope, the only thing that really works is to get out there and try again. Or, if you’ve tried whatever it is you’ve been trying enough, then go for something different. (You remember the definition of insanity, don’t you?) Trust me; it’s the only thing that really works.

So, will you finally make it to Prosperity – or at least, on the road to Prosperity? Alas, that’s not for me to say. But I will say this: you’ll never make it if you don’t try for it.

I’m just sayin’.

_____________________________

Since this is the first post of a brand new year, it’s only fitting to first reflect a bit on things just passed before we take a look towards the future, don’cha think? Tradition, you know.

So let’s start with a little, um, thing that happened just last week.

Lights! Action!

If you’re like many of us, you’ve recently celebrated the birth of Christ on December 25th. (I know it may come as a shocker to some, but He really IS the reason for the season, y’know. Just sayin’.) AND, at least here in the “Western” world, today marks the first day of a brand new year. (Yeah, I know the Asian world won’t celebrate New Year’s for a few more weeks. “Close enough”, I say.)

Anyhoo, I don’t know about you, but during the Christmas season some of the things Mrs. MZM and I look forward to the most are the Christmas music, the special Christmas events, and especially the Christmas Pageants, particularly at our local churches, large and small. I’m tellin’ ya; we’ve seen (and been a part of) some that are as good as or better than anything you’d find on Broadway. (Well, at least off-Broadway quality, anyway.)

In fact, we went to one of those “big production” pageants just before Christmas at a large church near us. It was quite a show, I’ll tell ya! The highlight was, during one musical number commemorating the arrival of the Wise Men (or, as I prefer to call ‘em, the “Wise Guys”), the three of them rode in on genuine, real live camels and an elephant! Yup – an elephant strolled right across the stage. Wow. (The engineer in me couldn’t help but wonder if they’d performed a weight distribution calculation on that wooden floor. No worries, though; nothing collapsed. But I digress.)

The elephant, of course, was the most impressive part of the entire pageant. He strolled majestically to the center of the stage like the king of all land creatures that he was, and then paused for his rider to disembark. As soon as that was accomplished, he performed for us a little, raising his trunk and one leg towards the audience as if to say, “hey lookit me!” I suppose it’s the elephant equivalent of a curtsey. The audience was very appreciative; it earned him a round of applause for a great job. Way to go, Bubba!

Gravity – “It’s the Law!”

Well, that’s when it happened.

After our friend the elephant little gave his little performance, his handler gave him his cue and he headed off towards the exit at stage right. Unfortunately, as he turned around it became obvious for all to see that his leg and trunk weren’t the, er, only things he’d raised, if you get my meanin’. Yep, that’s right – he had his tail raised too. And if you’ve ever been around animals of any kind, you know what that means, right? Yessir – when that tail goes up – something, er, else generally comes down. It’s like, gravity. And yep, that’s exactly what happened!

There came a collective “uh-oh” from the audience as, at right about the same moment we all realized just exactly what was about to happen. That poor elephant! Instead of applause for a job well done, this particular job instead earned a clearly audible gasp (and more than a few horrified screams) and a resounding “eww-yuk!” from everyone. I’m tellin’ ya; for once Mrs. MZM and I were thrilled – absolutely thrilled – to be at the back of the auditorium!

Y’know, it’s a cryin’ shame, too. All the work and time those folks put into that production – the writing, the music, the rehearsals, the costumes – it was a gargantuan effort, to be sure. But the sad fact is (at least for those of us who attended this one particular performance), ten years from now when we recall this pageant, this is what we’ll remember!

Probably Not What You Expected

So along about now you may be asking, “Uh, what the heck has that previous – and somewhat disgusting – story have to do with the New Year?” Well, that’s a doggone good question!

Here’s the thing.

Over the years I’ve jokingly said many times the phrase I plan to have emblazoned on my tombstone when I kick the ol’ bucket is, “Y’know, things didn’t quite work out like I’d planned!” (Actually, I’m only half-joking.)

Still, it never ceases to amaze me how differently things always seem to work out from what I, in my mind at least, think should be the “ideal”. You know what I mean, right? It’s been my experience that, no matter how well I’ve mapped out my future, there’s always something – or someone – that comes along and throws a monkey wrench in the works; stuff I simply can’t plan for.

Let’s see… I know there’s a technical term for it… wait, wait… it’s coming clearer… Ah yes! I think it’s called, uh, life.

Plan Accordingly

All I’m sayin’ is, hey, it’s a brand new year! It’s really all right to make your plans. After all, plans are good. Plans are necessary. Plans help keep things on track. In fact, it’s sorta like that image up there at the top of this post I titled “The Uncertain Future”. It’s a somewhat blurry photo of a corridor stretching out ahead. You can make out the walls, the floor, the line of light fixtures above, leading off into a possibly bright future. But at the same time – it ain’t all that clear, either.

Yeah, it’s sorta like that.

Hey, just remember this one thing: if you really want to be able to face the future in style, then Bubba, in all your planning, don’t forget to make allowances for life.

Yep; that’s the way to face the future, my friends. Be flexible when it comes to the unexpected. It’s the only way you’ll be able to roll with it and keep on keepin’ on, y’know? Just like that pageant. Did the unfortunate “elephant incident” stop the show? Not on your life! Folks just kept a careful eye on where they were steppin’ – and then kept right on walkin’.

Hey, I’ve known folks who seemed to know (or at least claimed to know) exactly where they were goin’ and what they’d be doin’ in the years ahead… and I gotta tell ya; folks like that irritate me to no end. Oh, it’s nothing personal, mind you. It’s just that after fifty-mumblemumble years, I’ve come to the sobering conclusion that there is absolutely nothing carved in stone about the future.

And there’s the lesson for the day year.

Happy New Year and a tip o’ the hat to ya!

____________________

I’ve mentioned a few times the fact that Mrs. MZM and I have moved quite a few times since our marriage back in 1982. (Yep; we’re zeroing in on 29 years real soon now.) Yessir, for some of us in the engineering business, sometimes that’s just the way the ball bounces.

Admittedly, there’s definitely a few pros and cons to that kind of life, I’ll tell ya. On the one hand, we’ve both had an opportunity to see various and sundry parts of the world – on someone else’s dime. (It’s always nicer when other folks pay for our adventures. Just sayin’.) On the other hand, such a life presents a bucketful or two of challenges, many examples of which I’ve shared with you right here at the Zone.

However, since celebrating Christmas is a big tradition for both of us, we’ve always been diligent that, no matter where we were, or what the circumstances, we always made sure there was a Christmas tree. Admittedly, some years we had to get a little creative (you’ll see what I mean).

So just for fun, this year I’ll share with you our progression of Christmas Trees, along with where we happened to be at the time. (Click on the photos for a bigger view of each one.)

29 Years of Christmas Trees

1981, Houston, Texas – The soon-to-be Mrs. MZM and I celebrated our first Christmas together at her house near Hobby Airport. She used to live in a cute little place located directly underneath the runway approach path to Hobby Airport – landing aircraft were so low you could actually see folks’ faces in the windows! We still remember this tree as the one we bought and never had to pay for. Don’t know why, but the charge never showed up on the ol’ credit card bill.

1982, Houston, Texas – Being newlyweds, naturally the future looked rosy and bright! (Silly us – who knew the future actually held quite a bit of challenge and adventure. But that’s, as they say, yet another harmonica tune.) So of course we bought our first home, fully expecting to be there awhile. The house had a big picture window in the front which was perfect for displaying a Christmas tree that year.

1983, Houston, Texas – To our surprise, things didn’t quite work out like we expected (a statement which is currently the front runner for my tombstone’s epitaph.) Earlier in the year we sold our previous house in anticipation of the purchase of our first new home. So let’s see; what happened? Well, first the builder ran off with our down payment. Then Mrs. MZM took early retirement – and then surprise! the bottom dropped out of the job market and my job went bye-bye. Oh, and we also lost Mrs. MZM’s father on our first Anniversary. Finally, after a quick scramble we ended up in a tiny little rented house instead of our dream home. At least the living room had space for a tree. Wow, talk about a banner year! Yeesh!

1984, Houston, Texas – Sadly, the job hunt went on a bit longer than anticipated and money got a mite short. Fortunately a kind friend offered us the use of their unoccupied condo for essentially free, so we moved yet again. Don’t be fooled by the number of packages – most of ‘em are empty boxes, wrapped for fun. It was a wonderful Christmas just the same; there is no substitute for the love of a wonderful spouse, I’ll tell ya!

1985, Greenville, South Carolina – The job market finally picked up again – everywhere, it seemed, but Houston! So we packed our things for our first interstate move. That first Christmas in South Carolina was spent in this apartment as we searched for a better, long-term place. (Why temporary? Well, the floor seemed to be, er, dissolving under us. Yep, dissolving. We had to move to yet another temporary place before we finally found our “permanent” spot.) Temporary though it was, a tree we cut ourselves at a local tree farm, along with the cheery fireplace (not to mention a nicely-lighted model sailboat) helped set the tone for a very nice first experience away from the ol’ homestead.

1986, Atlanta, Georgia – You’d think one interstate move would be enough, but noooo! Within a few months, I was sent on a long-term field assignment to yet another state. On the plus side, though, the apartment we found had a perfect spot for a Christmas tree: a glassed-in sunroom. It was even more spectacular when it began to snow, giving us our first White Christmas! (By the way, if you look closely, you can see our cat, Cookie, lurking beneath the center of the tree.)

1987, Greenville, South Carolina – After that previous job assignment, we moved back in Greenville again. This time we decided to buy a house and ended up in a cute little place in the NE quadrant of town. Once again, we had a beautiful room just begging for a Christmas tree to give it life! Winter turned out to be unexpectedly heavy that year (we once woke up to a record 14” overnight snowfall!) that kept us stuck inside for over a week.

1988, Houston, Texas – Things started looking up in Houston’s job market again, and we sorta missed bein’ back home again, so we moved back as soon as we could, this time to a condominium near the Galleria area. Over the following years we actually lived in this complex several different times. However, this was the first, a nice little place that turned out to be home for only a short time.

1989, Austin, Texas – I changed employers again, moving to Austin, Texas, for a new assignment. We initially lived in a “corporate” apartment on the north side of town. A few weeks before Christmas, though, it got so cold the water pipes burst, ruining the entire building! We moved to an Embassy Suites Hotel for about four months. Not too shabby, I’ll tell ya! Since we really didn’t have room for a tree of our own, we adopted this one in the lobby of the hotel.

1990, Richmond, Virginia – After the last project ended, we got transferred to Richmond for about a year on another project. This apartment was a bit bare, since we tended to travel “light”, but the place still had a comfortable spot for our Christmas tree. Of all the places we’ve lived, Richmond is the richest in history. We had a great time checking out all the historical sites nearby.

1991, Robinson, Illinois – Moving to Robinson was quite an adjustment. After all, it’s little more than a wide spot in the road in the middle of eastern Illinois’ corn fields (at least it was back then). We rented this house, which was nice enough, but it sure did make a lot of odd noises at night! When the stairs started creakin’ and crackin’, we could almost see the ghost of the lady who used to live there, checkin’ us out. Talk about spooky! Where’s the Ghostbusters when you need ‘em?

1992, Houston, Texas – Back home once again, we bought a condo at the complex we were at in 1988 (see above). Turned out this place became our “home base” for the next 15 years as we continued to travel all over creation in the following years. It was nice to have a place to “come home to”, though. One of my favorite features: the glassed-in sunroom always made a perfect setting for the Christmas tree.

1993, Houston, Texas – This particular year I happened to be on assignment in Charlotte, North Carolina at Christmas. Unfortunately, Mrs. MZM got the flu really bad so she had to come home. Needless to say, she didn’t feel like putting up a tree! However, just before Christmas her sister and nephew came over and surprised her with a tree anyway! It was a remarkably kind gesture that helped just a tiny bit to overcome the loneliness we both felt from being so far away from each other.

1994, Richmond, Virginia – I took a position in Richmond and, while we waited for our house to be built, ended up staying in a Days Inn Hotel for several months – hence another hotel tree this year. I’ll tell ya, hotel living ain’t for the faint of heart! There was that time the entire hotel was filled with adolescent teenage girls – and us – during a state softball championship. The fire alarm must have “accidentally” gone off at least a dozen times. At midnight. Every night. Argh!

1995, Houston, Texas – Unfortunately, the previous job didn’t pan out as, er, long-lasting as I’d hoped. (Sheesh; industry downturns sure do put a kink in our well-laid plans, don’t they?) So instead of living in Richmond we moved back to our condo in Houston. For a part of the year I worked in Venezuela, but I managed to get back home by the time Christmas rolled around. Instead of presents under the tree this year, we put some of our collection of nativity scenes we’d picked up in our travels.

1996, Houston, Texas – We spent most of this year moving back and forth across the country due to my job. My project had us first working in Sherman, Texas, then clean across the country to Salem, Oregon, and then back to Sherman again. Upon the return to Sherman, I stayed there working while Mrs. MZM came home. However, we celebrated Christmas at home together.

1997, Perrysburg, Ohio – Moved to Ohio to work on a project in a small town just outside of Toledo (home of the world-famous baseball team, the Mud Hens!) Those of you who are my age or older may remember these old aluminum trees. We found this one at a garage sale, complete with the original box and motorized spinning color-gel wheel, and just had to have it.

1998, Houston, Texas – For about a year I took a break from the engineering business and worked as a consultant. This meant I essentially worked from home most of the time, only traveling on occasion – and that only for a week or two at a time. However, on one of my field trips to Florida during the hurricane season I got to play chicken with Hurricane Fred, or Bill, or something when it took a bead on Panama City where I happened to be staying. Ah well, at least we got to enjoy a relaxing Christmas together at home again.

1999, Taipei, Taiwan – Well, this still holds the record for the “most distant from home” Christmas I’ve ever spent – 14 hours time difference! Now, even though they don’t exactly celebrate Christmas in China, they still recognize the season for the tourists (not to mention the shopping!) The tree pictured here is from the lobby of the Grand Hotel in Taipei. And believe me, they don’t call it Grand for nothin’ – it’s quite a place!

2000, Portland, Oregon – Anticipating a permanent move to the Left Coast, we started with another one of those temporary apartments. Since it was only temporary, we decided to cut costs and were quite successful furnishing the entire with garage sale items (except the bed and the couch). I’ll tell ya, if you just take the time to look, you can find some incredible stuff this way! Although our Christmas tree was a bit smaller than we were used to, overall it made for a fine homey place. Ironically, Portland is where we experienced our first earthquake! Yep, I can still hear Mrs. MZM’s loving words to me immediately afterwards. I believe here exact words were: “GET ME OUTTA HERE!”

2001, Houston, Texas – Can’t believe it happened again! We expected the job in Portland to last a long time, but due to a yet another severe industry slowdown I ended up getting laid off 6 months later. Sigh. This was the beginning of a long stretch of odd jobs until the engineering business picked up again. Still, being back in Houston meant we could get together with friends and family.

2002, Houston, Texas – Still out of work, things were getting a little glum, and unfortunately, our Christmas tree sorta reflected that. Mrs. MZM didn’t even want to put up a tree, but I insisted on at least some lights on the ficus tree in the corner. It wasn’t exactly our dream Christmas, but we did spend some quality time counting our blessings rather than moping about what might have been.

2003, Houston, Texas – Although the engineering business was still out for the count, I spent most of these years (yes, I said years) doing assorted odd jobs that came along. At least it kept me outta trouble! (Er, more or less.) This year we decided not to put up the “whole” tree, but instead mounted the top two-thirds on a large trunk for a different look.

2004, Houston, Texas – Yet another Christmas outside of the engineering business, and things were beginning to look a little sparse. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but a great job was only a few months away. We never gave up hope, though, and kept our eyes on God, who graciously supplied all our needs. Celebrating His birth every year gave us the chance to thank Him personally.

2005, Houston, Texas – Although we spent this year’s Christmas back home in Houston, we spent most of the year on the Caribbean island of Aruba. Talk about a great work assignment; this one ranks up there with the best of ‘em! We had looked forward to spending Christmas on the island, but the assignment finished up too soon for that. Too bad. We decided to use the antique metal tree again, just for fun.

2006, Tomball, Texas – We decided to buy a house again after returning from Aruba, moving this time to a smaller town just north of Houston. Here you can see the expanse of arched windows that made what we thought was a perfect setting for the tree. This was also the last year for this particular tree; all that moving and storage pretty much destroyed it.

2007, Tomball, Texas – Behold our brand new Christmas tree – er, in it’s new, improved location. (Turns out, in front of the window wasn’t the most optimum spot after all.) The good news this year was that work was steady and the engineering business’ prospects were amazingly rosy. That’s always good for some level of comfort; especially with my history.

2008, Tomball, Texas – Er, did I say “rosy” outlook? Sheesh, in an amazingly dramatic turn of events, the entire economy seemed to tank this year! Luckily, I spent most of the year on a project that kept us going, but the future was yet again getting a mite uncertain. Still, God blessed us again this year with good health, steady employment, and gracious love. What more can one ask for? (Besides pie, of course. One can always use more pie.)

2009, Tomball, Texas – Alas, earlier this year my previous job folded. Luckily, I fell into a new one almost immediately, so that was a real blessing indeed! Sadly though, it only lasted about six months or so before the engineering business (and pretty much every other business) dried up and flew south for the Winter. Still, God kept us warm and dry and basking in His love this Christmas.

2010, Tomball, Texas – Halleluiah, a new job came along and this time it truly looks like a long-term project. ‘Course, it has to actually last that long, but prospects look good for the time being. Assuming it continues to its conclusion, eventually we’ll be leaving the Houston area and traveling the world as the project further develops into its Engineering and Construction phases. Nevertheless, for the time being we’re still snug as a bug in a rug right here in Tomball, Texas!

2011, and Beyond

Lots of folks, when they hear about the crazy, whacked-out kind of life Mrs. MZM and I have, er, enjoyed over the years, tell us they’d never have survived such insane turns of events. Well, I can understand the sentiment, for sure. The fact is, most folks like to think they’ve got things figured out, don’t they? What’s more; they’ve even got the plans to prove it, too. Um, yeah.

It sorta reminds me of a rather profound statement a fellah named George Campbell said once: “We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”

I’ll tell ya folks; if there’s any one lesson we’ve learned (and keep on learnin’) over the years, it’s that only God knows what the future will actually bring. In truth, the best we can do is keep our eyes on Him, and follow where He leads.

Now, life ain’t always been a bed o’ roses, and that’s a fact. Some years have truly been ‘way harder to cope with than others. But after everything is said and done (and as you know, more is usually said than done), hey, we’re still kickin’, we’re still together, we still love each other with all our hearts – and of course we’re still mightily blessed by the Creator of the Universe.

Hey, that’s good enough for me!

Merry Christmas, y’all, and a big ol’ tip o’ the hat to ya!

_______________________

Some evenings ago, as the last of the day’s clear light began to wane, the Mrs. and I spent a short time outside on our patio, breathing in the wonderfully mild Fall weather. After spending a companionable few moments enjoying an almost magic, whispering silence, our reverie was rudely interrupted by this little scene playing out at the very top of a tall pine tree a few houses away.

Shattered Silence

The bird at the top right is a crow, easily identifiable by his distinctive cry. (sound of “caw, caw, caw”) The little guy at the bottom left is a Mockingbird, and I could clearly hear him respond (in an easily-imagined New York Cabbie accent) the bird equivalent of “Hey, who ya t’ink ya talkin’ to, Tiny?” (After all, they are mocking birds, y’know. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Er, sorry.)

Anyway, these two seemed to be having quite a noisy disagreement about who got to sit on this old dead limb, I’ll tell ya! Apparently, the Mockingbird was lettin’ that crow know, and in no uncertain terms, “Dis tree ain’t big enough for da both of us!”

This went of for a few more minutes, then apparently enduring one too many insults, the Mockingbird suddenly flew up and attacked the much bigger crow, driving him from his perch! Wow, talk about a feisty little fellah! That crow mustered what dignity he had left (because, y’know, dignity is so important to birds *rolls eyes*) and decided he’d had enough. As the two of them flew off into the sunset, that Mockingbird continued to harass the defeated crow, flying circles around him and chirping as if to shout, “An’ I don’t wanna see youse around here again, ya big turkey!”

After they left, peace and quiet once again reigned over the land.

Question of the Day

When was the last time you took on something bigger than yourself?

_________________

In one of my favorite all-time romantic comedies, the 1972 movie What’s Up Doc, it quickly becomes obvious this is no ordinary love story! It’s a wonderfully hilarious treatment of the old oil-and-water-don’t mix relationship that’ll literally have you in stitches from start to finish.

In one scene, after becoming increasingly aggravated by Judy Maxwell (Barbara Streisand), Howard Bannister (Ryan O’Neal) finally cries out in frustration, “Why do you have to be so different!” She looks abashed for a moment, then quietly replies, “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to be so different. From now on, I’ll try to be the same.”

[Note from the Proprietor: If you’ve never seen this movie, by all means do. It’s worth it. Trust me on this.]

I said all that to ask ya this: Do you consider yourself to be “different”? (Forget everyone else’s opinion for the moment. If you’re anything like me, they will likely think you’re, y’know, insane.)

Anyhoo, I’d be willin’ to bet the farm (that is, if I had one) you probably do. To my mind (which admittedly can be a very strange place), we all like to think of ourselves as unique. But (and here’s the nub of the gist) does it aggravate you when you encounter folks who are different? Yeah, me too. Well, sometimes, anyway.

Vive le Differénce

I’ll tell ya; it never ceases to amaze me how each and every human being on the planet can be so… different. It’s true; we can separate ourselves into groups in a whole herd o’ ways – there is literally no limit . And I mean that in a good way. Really.

Take, for instance, U.S. politics (please!) I mean, you got your Republicans and your Democrats. And if that ain’t enough of a difference for you, well, you got your Libertarians, your Greens and your Independents, too. And that’s just the tip o’ the compost heap. Then there’s schools: every college or university you care to name (and more). And we all identify from different countries and home towns, don’t we? Oh, I could go on, but I think you get my meanin’, right? The fact is, we ARE all pretty different.

On the other hand…

You know how they say that long-time married couples begin to act, think, and even look alike after awhile? (Heaven help Mrs. MZM if, y’know, that last one is true!) Well, while that may or may not be the case, even so, those of us who’ve spent a lot of time in each other’s company can still be, when you get right down to it, amazingly different.

Keepin’ It Simple

Take, for instance, the curious case of Yours Truly and the ever-gorgeous Mrs. MZM. After more than 28 excitin’ fun-filled years of marital bliss (that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it) we have, in many ways, grown to be quite alike. However, in certain other ways we can still be as different as day and, er, not day. I’ll give you an example.

The other evening we decided to have something “simple” for supper (happens a lot around our house). That usually means something along the lines of, say, a tuna fish sandwich. Now, over the years Mrs. MZM, bless her sweet little well-meaning heart, has tried to stealthily slip various and sundry “extra ingredients” into the tuna mix. Thus, every now and then I’d occasionally inadvertently bite down on unexpected stuff like diced pecans, diced celery, or even diced boiled egg. (One time, it was diced grapes, for cryin’ out loud! Now I’ll admit it had a kinda interestin’ flavor, but it turned the whole thing a mite soggy. Ick.)

Well Bubba, I don’t mind tellin’ ya; when it comes to my tuna fish sandwich, I’m something of a purist, if you get my meanin’. And so (with the exception of the diced egg, which turned out to be a pretty tasty addition – and also, by the way, proving you can teach an ol’ dog like me new tricks), I really don’t like anything else sneakin’ around in there. I’m just sayin’.

Different Strokes

The upshot is, I know what to expect when it comes to tuna fish sandwiches (and pretty much sandwiches in general). No surprises is just the way I like ‘em.

BUT (and as you can see, that’s a mighty BIG ‘but’), there is still a major difference in the way the two of us prepare our sandwiches. As you can no doubt see in the photo, I like mine cut, er, properly, and she… well, she cuts hers “in a different way” (which in this case, is a euphemism for “wrong”).

Yep; the truth is out. We’re different. (sound of surprised gasp) Is that bad? Not on your life! Hey, when it comes to our differences, I say, “Vive le differénce!”

__________________

BONUS: “So,” I can hear you ask, “Which one of these sandwiches is mine, and which one is, well, wrong?”

Hey, I’ll leave it to you, my dear kind reader, to ascertain (yet another euphemism, meaning “guess”) which one of these delicious works of performance art is which.

(But if you’d like to guess, by all means leave a comment in the box – and let me know how you made your guess decision. If you know anything about me, it’ll probably be obvious. Just sayin’.)

__________________

Last Monday, I posted a list of questions that seem to have no reasonable answers. (‘Course, if you’d be willin’ to settle for unreasonable answers – hey, we got plenty of those.)

Out of Place

The other day I drove by one of our neighborhood U.S. Post Offices and, well, if you’ll glance at the photo you’ll see what I saw. Yeah, I know; there’s nothing particularly special about the place with its somewhat uninspired architecture, concrete parking lot, and boring landscaping. But… something seemed to jump out at me as, I don’t know, a bit out of place.

A little later I drove by the same spot and took the time to really check out the scene again. Finally I spotted what was bothering me. That tiny white spot the big, black arrow is pointing at is a mailbox. Wait – what? Yep, there it is; embedded in that short, square brick pillar, located right outside the post office door.

Now I ask you: Why would a post office need an external mailbox? Seems like a somewhat superfluous addition, don’cha think? I suddenly had an urge to mail a letter to the branch’s Postmaster, just to see if a mail carrier had to bring it outside and put it in the box. If I can just find a stamp. And paper. And, uh, a pen. (Naah, just kidding. I still remember how to actually hand write a letter (although my penmanship was never all that great), and I even know where Mrs. MZM keeps the stamps.)

(Sound of Dull Thud)

Anyhoo, as I wrote this post, it suddenly hit me! (sound of dull thud) In fact, it’s so obvious, I’m almost embarrassed to confess this. It seems like, after all these years of tellin’ y’all there are lessons to be learned from life pretty much everywhere – well, I sorta forgot that little detail for a bit. Call it a decade moment of insanity.

So there I was, taking note of this odd little architectural detail, wondering just what the heck it was all about. So what did I do? Took this photo, hopped into my car, drove home and wrote this post, right?

Now I ask ya: What’s wrong with this picture. (No, not that picture up there; this whole cotton-pickin’ episode.) Yep; you guessed it in one! Why didn’t I just go up there and take a look at the thing and find out why it’s there? As you can see from the photo, there’s obviously a plaque of some kind on top of that structure. Probably explaining exactly why it’s there and what it means.

All it would have taken was just a tiny little bit of time – to actually, y’know, look.

So gettin’ back to imponderable questions… Now the imponderable question is this: How come I didn’t take the time to go find out for myself? I mean, I was already there!

I hate to admit it, but for that one I have no answer.

Assignment for the Day Life

Awright y’all; now’s the time to learn from my mistake.

Your assignment, should you decide to accept it, is to take 5 minutes sometime today, find a good comfy spot, and take the time to observe the world around you. And don’t just be at rest; I want you to really look. Pretend you’re a recording device capturing everything around you in full fidelity. Listen to the sounds, smell the smells. Experience those minutes as fully as you can.

Now, write down as much as you can remember about what you noticed. Be as detailed as you can. If you really want to get something out of this exercise, do this every day for a week, writing down everything you can possibly remember.

And most of all – should you, like I did, see something that raises a question in your mind, don’t just wonder about it (like I did) – take an extra minute and go over there and find out the answer!

I’m tellin’ ya; you may be surprised at what you’ll discover!

________________________

I love questions that really make you wonder. Questions like, Is there an exception to the rule “there’s an exception to every rule”? Or one of my personal favorites, Why are there 5 syllables in the word “monosyllabic”?

The fact is, you don’t have to go searching for ‘em; they sometimes show up right at your feet. In fact, it happened just the other evening when a neighbor from down the street dropped by to chat with Mrs. MZM for a few minutes. She happened to bring her cute little son along with her, and as is typical whenever multiple adults and only one child get together, the tiniest member of the group became the center of attention. (How do they do that, anyway?)

C’mon, Push the Button

Just so you know, our house isn’t exactly child-proof, mind you, nor is it filled with fun stuff for babies to play with, either. However, unlike us adults, children have an innate ability to uncover the entertainment value in practically anything (up to and including dirt).

We usually keep an electric heating pad lying on the floor next to the couch. (What can I say? Sometimes it just, er, helps. If you know what I mean – great. If not – one day you will. Just sayin’.) Now, you and I both know this isn’t an appropriate plaything for a baby. So of course the little critter made a beeline right for it.

He grabbed the control pad and quickly discovered that pushing its buttons caused the little light to change colors in the following sequence: push #1 = yellow, push #2 = orange, push #3 = red, push #4 = off. (Please be assured – and you’ll have to trust me on this – all three of us were watching him closely and there was absolutely no danger involved.)

This impromptu “toy” seemed to keep him happy, but it was the “off” setting that threw him for a loop. Although the pretty glowing light fascinated him, every time it turned off his imagined solution was to simply push that button all the harder. In fact, I could see his hands and arms literally shaking with the effort to make that light go on, as if he could make it work by sheer strength. Eventually, of course, he’d let go – then push it again and voila! the whole sequence began all over again.

Now, when you think about it, wasn’t it silly of him to imagine that if a certain action (pushing a button) failed to produce an expected result (the light changed color), that doing that same action with even more effort (c’mon, push harder!) would magically make it work?

On the other hand… don’t we adults do the same thing? No, you say? Have you ever flipped a light switch, only to find the light didn’t work – then (and be honest here) flipped it at least a couple more times, just to be sure? Yep; thought so.

Well then why do you press harder on a TV remote control when you know the battery is dead? (Yes, you!) I mean, you know it’s dead, right? Then, um, why – ?

Yeah, sometimes we adults aren’t quite so smart as all that, are we?

Questions, Questions

Ah, questions, questions, questions! The fact is, life if chock full of imponderable questions, isn’t it? So, just to celebrate that fact, here’s a whole herd o’ questions for which I have never found a meaningful answer:

• Why do ballet dancers dance on their toes? Why doesn’t the company just hire taller dancers?
• Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible black cinder which no decent human being (nor most self-respecting animals, either) would ever eat?
• Speaking of bread – since all sandwich bread is square, why do they make round sandwich meats?
• What should you do if you see an endangered animal eating an endangered plant?
• If laughter is the best medicine, what does it mean when someone dies laughing?
• If milk goes bad when not refrigerated, why doesn’t it go bad in the cow?
• If a train station is where a train stops, what happens at a work station?
• Does a lightning rod on top of a church demonstrate a lack of faith?
• Do sheep get static cling when they rub against one another? And why don’t they shrink when it rains?
• If most car accidents occur within five miles of home, why doesn’t everyone just move 10 miles away?

Needless to say, there are plenty more where these came from! However, I’ll leave you with this one final question:

• If vegetarians eat vegetables, what do humanitarians eat?

By the way, if you happen to know the answer to any of these questions, then by all means feel free to chime in with it down there in the comment box. What the heck, if you feel particularly inspired, go ahead and make an answer up! I might even award extra points for the most creative answers.

_________________________

A Bad Sign

I’m just askin’, mind you, but would you consider it a bad sign if a large carrion bird sat outside your window and stared at you as if… well, as if you were their next meal?

That’s pretty much exactly what I thought the other day when I visited a coworker’s office and was greeted by this somewhat disquieting scene right outside his office window.

Me bein’ me and all, naturally a whole host of great one-liners instantly came to mind:

“I dunno; if I were you I’d check the organization chart for your name.”

“Have you, er, noticed a dramatic drop in your emails, lately?”

… not to mention,

“I see HR is using a new approach for sending out layoff notices.”

Of course, I could always do the time-honored “pull out a tape measure and start checking if all my stuff will fit in his office routine”… but that’s been done to death, don’cha think? (Get it? Carrion birds? Death? Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Er, sorry.)

Aw, don’t worry; I’m just kidding. I don’t really think he’s got anything to worry about. After all, with today’s economy in the shape it’s in, there’s no reason for anything but optimism, right?

Expect the Unexpected

What was really funny about the whole thing was when I moved closer to capture a good close-up. (Yes, he could see me easily, right through the heavy silvering on the outside of the glass.) As I eased my phone closer for a portrait, he reached out and started tap-tap-tapping on the glass. Good thing it was there or I’d be lunch meat!

Anyway, I just thought this was a rather, um, graphic reminder for all of us: when you’re in the midst of your plans, schemes, etc. – don’t forget to expect the unexpected. I mean, you never know, y’know? Just sayin’.

So… anything unexpected happen to YOU lately?

_____________________________

Allow me to ask you a personal question. (sound of audience stampeding from the room)

Gee, that went well, don’cha think? Anyhoo – here’s the question:

Have you ever had a moment when you suddenly doubted your senses? You know what I mean, right? A time when you saw something that made your brain put the brakes on full and come to a screeching halt?

Yep; thought so. Here’s one that happened to me the other day.

Lunch Break

Mrs. MZM and I visited a cute little place called Drew’s Pastry Place for lunch not too long ago. (Despite the name, they make some really great – and really reasonably priced – lunches.) We like to support small, local businesses whenever we can (hence the link), and this is one of our favorites. I’ll tell ya; although Drew makes a mouth-watering selection of wonderful pastries, he also makes this delicious pizza that’s to die for…

Anyway, while waiting for our lunch to make its way to our table, my eyes naturally wandered around, sizing up the surroundings for possible photogenic opportunities. (Alas, that’s what happens when you catch the camera bug. Even Mrs. MZM is getting into the spirit of things, cheerfully pointing out interesting things every now and then.)

Since we were sitting at a table right by the window, I spent some time just observing the scenery outside. That’s when it happened. I glanced up and there, flashing on and off like a big red neon sign floating in the sky, was the word, “OPEN”.

Now since, as far as I know, I have almost never suffered from hallucinations, my brain immediately did a double-take. I thought to myself, “Ungh? Why in the world would there be a ghostly word floating up there in the clear blue sky? And written backwards, no less! What could it mean?

Well, a few scenarios immediately jumped to mind. Could it have been that a clandestine alien secret agent, after having thoroughly investigated the Earth’s paltry defenses, was signaling the nearby invasion force to drop in and take over. Or, maybe it was some giant advertising campaign, intended to let folks know some retailer was now, uh, open for business. (Since the word was written backwards, I tended to discount the possibility it was a message from God.)

I immediately put my lightning-fast and highly-skilled powers of reasoning to bear on the situation. (Meaning: I scratched my head and thought about it for a few seconds.) Now, in order to get to the nub of the gist, the first issue to be dealt with was a rather foundational one: Was I the only one who could see it?

How to Establish Your Sanity (Without Appearing Insane)

The obvious solution was to verify my sanity (such as it is) with Mrs. MZM. Unfortunately, I couldn’t figure out how to do that without sounding completely idiotic, if you get my meanin’.

“Um…” I said, trying not to lead the witness, “you don’t happen to see anything odd up there in the sky, do you?”

“Like what?” she immediately replied, peering upwards out the window.

“Oh, like… er, well…” Alas, there was no way to avoid it, so I took the bull by the horns and continued. “Well, I sorta see this big, red, floating word up there. It says, ‘OPEN… OPEN…OPEN…’”

I had to admit that now I had said it out loud, it did sound pretty weird.

Silence for a few seconds… then, “Oh, I see it too!” Needless to say, a sense of relief flooded through me.

My sanity assured (he said, blithely), the next question was, where on Earth was it coming from? Luckily for my sanity, that one solved itself pretty easily. There was a lighted “OPEN” sign hanging above me, a few feet back from the window. It was clearly visible from the outside, but from our table (right next to the window), it was completely out of our sight.

Mystery solved! (sound of big sigh of relief) Well, at least I knew I wasn’t going crazy! (At least, not due to random hallucinations, anyway.)

Has This Ever Happened To You?

So… just out of curiosity, has something like this ever happened to you? I mean, have you ever seen something that just made you doubt your sanity for a few moments? Hey, don’t be shy – go ahead and share it with us down there in the comment box. I’ll leave the light on.

____________________________

[Disclaimer: The Mrs. and I received no compensation for mentioning Drew's Pastry Place. We just like it and want folks to know about it. Drop by if you get a chance; you won't regret it.]

____________________________

[Note from the Proprietor: This post is an entry for this month's Middle Zone groupwrite project, What I Learned From Colorful Characters. It's open for entries until March 7, 2010 and you're invited to participate - just follow that cute little link and read all about it.]

Over the years, I’ve met my share of colorful characters; I bet you have, too. Despite that, I’m surprised to say can’t really pinpoint exactly what it is that earns someone the description of “colorful”.

I know, I know; chances are you’d agree with me there’s no shortage of folks who are different. But is different the same as colorful? Not necessarily; I’ve run across plenty of folks who are different – yet I no longer remember them.

Maybe the word unusual is a better qualifier. Well, maybe. Whatever the quality is that makes someone colorful in my mind, of all the folks I’ve ever met, ol’ Hollis has to be one of the ones with the mostest.

Just Call Me Bubba

Now, Hollis was what we down here in Texas call a Bubba (also known as a “good ol’ boy”): friendly, big-hearted and generally easy-going – and I’ll tell ya; he sure fit the bill!

Hollis was one of four of us back in college who roomed together during the semester I decided to live off campus (this was back in the early ’70′s). And if you think the name “Hollis” says volumes about him, well, you’d be right. I mean, this guy was a walkin’ stereotype!

His parents owned a “nice spread” (otherwise known as a ranch to us city slickers) in central Texas. Oh, it wasn’t as big as the King Ranch (which at 1,289 mi² is larger than the U.S. state of Rhode Island), but at least it was “comfortable”. (Maybe just the size of Long Island? Er, never mind.)

I always suspected his chosen course of study – range management – had more to do with his parents wishes than his own (I mean, would he have chosen it if they didn’t already own the ranch? Well, maybe.) But one thing I can say with complete confidence – it certainly suited him.

I can still picture as if it were yesterday, that first fateful day I asked Hollis just what in tarnation range management was. He adjusted his big ten-gallon hat, spread his feet apart to get a firm stance, and made fists of his big, ham-sized hands. Then he put ‘em on his hips, stared off at the distant horizon and boomed out, “All right you ranges out there! I want you to form a line for me! Hey – straighten up, you!” (You think I’m kidding? Hey, if you’re readin’ this, Hollis, back me up, won’t you?)

When he went out he wore that hat (seriously – a huge, somewhat worse-for-wear white one), and in more ways than one, reminded me a lot of Hoss Cartright from that old western, Bonanza. He drove a typical student’s car, an old land-yacht-sized rattletrap named, of all things, Maybelline (or maybe it was The Deathmobile; I forget).

Memorable in More Ways Than One

In fact, there were a lot of things about Hollis that were really pretty memorable. (I mean, besides the hat.) For instance…

Every other weekend he went home to visit the folks (and, of course, do what every other student did: get his laundry done). And every Sunday upon returning he’d go through the exact same ritual: walk in the door carrying two bags of groceries and gently set ‘em on the kitchen counter. Then open the cabinet doors over the sink, reach into one of the grocery bags and pull out the two cans of Spam his mom had thoughtfully packed. Put them up in the cabinet (along with the 123 other cans from previous trips home) and shut the door. Then and only then, he’d paste that goofy grin on his face, turn around and ask in all seriousness, “OK, guys, anybody for pizza?” (By the way, if you’re hungry, as far as I know those cans of spam are probably still there. They should be nicely, er, aged by now.)

Then there was the time I brought home a refurbished pay phone and hung it in the kitchen (this was back in the days when you had to buy your own phone from the then-still-a-monopoly phone company). We convinced Hollis he had to put a dime in it to make calls, and it was two weeks before he finally figured out we were kidding! (On the plus side, I did make $3.90 those two weeks. But I digress.)

Trust me; I could go on…

What I Learned From Hollis

Yep; ol’ Hollis was sure a colorful character. But one thing he taught me was that it was truly OK to be a colorful character. I mean sure, most of us know that’s true – and I know that now – but back then I was just a poor Freshman college kid with no idea who I truly was.

See,  all through grade school and high school, I saw other kids around me who were popular, witty, charming, and – dare I say it? – extremely cool. What’s worse, they all seemed to have a level of self-confidence I simply couldn’t match. No matter how I tried, I always ended up geeky, insecure, and just plain scared.

The problem was, I took that attitude with me to college, and unfortunately forsaw nothing that would change anything ahead, I’ll tell ya. And that’s when I met Hollis.

Hollis was… well, different. And not a bad different, he was… well, like a breath of fresh air (or maybe more like a smack in the face with a dead fish). He was loud, brash, a little crazy, and he had no problem bein’ someone who was smirked at by other folks – either behind his back or even to his face – he just flat-out didn’t care.

Yep; in ol’ Hollis, I saw someone who had something I’d always wanted: he was happy with who he was. And I had to admire that, y’know? It was quite the revelation, I’ll tell ya.

So, Did It ‘Take’?

By now you’re probably askin’ the question, Did the lesson ‘take’? Did I finally overcome my truckload of self-conscious mumblings and assert my rightful place in the universe? Did my fellow students point in awe at my overwhelming new-found Coolness as I walked by? Did women, from that moment onward, swoon whenever I entered the room?

Well… no. (In fact, I only know of one woman who ever swooned when I came into the room, and that was because I’d accidentally stepped on a skunk on my way in the door. But that, as they say, is a frog of a different hop.)

Actually, it took me a few further years to finally come to terms with who I was. Or at least, who I was beginning to become, anyway. To tell you the truth, I’m still on that particular journey, so there’s really no tellin’ how it’s gonna end up. One thing I can tell you – the trip’s been a blast so far, I’ll tell ya!

Anyhoo – I just want to send a big ol’ tip o’ the hat to my friend Hollis! Hey, thanks for bein’ you, Bubba, and I hope all those ranges finally lined up for ya!

_____________________________

Photo credits, top left to bottom right:
1. Colorful Character, 2. Beggars on Stockton Ferry, 3. Colorful characters, 4. colorful characters, 5. It’s good to be the King!, 6. Colourful character, 7. Send in the Clown, 8. No Clowning Around., 9. Four colorful characters

_______________________________

[Note from the Proprietor: This post is an entry for this month's Middle Zone groupwrite project, What I Learned From Colorful Characters. It's open for entries until March 7, 2010 and you're invited to participate - just follow that cute little link and read all about it.]

_______________________________