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HEAVEN!!

My Dad and Doris Day

Memorial Day has passed, but it is never too late to thank those who have made sacrifices for the greater good. My father is one of them. Rather than tell sad stories of the injuries he sustained in Vietnam, the loss of friends abroad, or the funerals he assisted in at Arlington National Cemetary, I would rather recount a story that conveys the thought that, even during the worst of times, there can be a positive.

My dad entered the United States Marine Corps in the summer of 1967. Newly graduated from high school, he was too young to be shipped to Vietnam right away, so he remained stateside for additional training until he turned 18 in late autumn. During one of his cross-country flights between bases in North Carolina and California, he found himself sitting next to an attractive blonde woman. He kept looking out of the corner of his eye, and, not wanting to bother her, he kept to himself. Finally, the urge became too great: "I hate to bother you, ma'am, but are you Doris Day?" She answered yes, and the seventeen-year-old Marine was in heaven!

From his account, she was incredibly down-to-earth. They talked for the remainder of the flight, and she was very appreciative of his service to the country...something that, at that time, was rarely the case. To this day, I joke around with my dad about his "girlfriend." Is it any wonder I grew up hearing Dad sing this song?

I Hate Allergies.

I intended to post a tribute for Memorial Day today, but I have been feeling pretty rotten. The rain has held off for the first time in about 3 days, so today has been humid. It has also been prime for people to mow. And mow. And mow. My eyes are so full right now, I think I will leave you all with this little gem. I should be back on tomorrow with a tribute to my favorite veteran, my dad.

Oh, for the love of Obama!

I rarely voice my political thoughts and preferences. I try to keep informed, but do not usually opt to enter into a public rhetoric about the issues, candidates, etc. I can't let this one go, though.

Hillary, Hillary, Hillary...I hope the shoe is tasty, because your mouth is certainly big enough for it!!

Happy 100th to a Pleasant Guy

How Much Is Too Much?

I can be pretty liberal, particularly where art is concerned. I tend to believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and art (in whatever form) should be a freeway for expression. The same goes for one's reaction to art.

And then I sat by a drunk / possibly high woman during a staging of "Movin' Out" on Friday. After being touched, breathed on, disrupted, and, essentially, tormented for two hours, I had to wonder...when dealing with something as subjective as theatre (and your reaction thereof), how much is too much? How much should I be able to react in public without causing other patrons discomfort or distraction? How much should I be willing to put up with from other patrons? Is there a standard anymore, or is it all just dependant on the show?

It has been two days and several hot showers later, and I still feel violated. I am also more perplexed. Just how much is too much?

Public Service Announcement

And now, a friendly PSA from the cast of "Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella":



ALWAYS PRACTICE SAFE SINGING!





That is all...

You Know, I Learned Something Today...

Apparently this:




Plus this:




And one of these:



Equals:




Now, I have no intention of trying this myself, but I have to laugh. Years of higher education...thousands of dollars in tuition. Classes designed to teach me how to make my mark on the world, and on future generations.

I have SO much to learn...