Getting into some high brow culture

(Full disclosure--I toyed with using a vulgar or course title using swear words or curse abbreviations for this post. You know, as a way of creating a clever dissonance with the content to come. But then I didn't. But that didn't stop me from taking even more time to type this out and explain it to you, so that you can pat me on the back for the joke I didn't make. I guess that is why people hate bloggers.)

Last Saturday, Lynda and I attended the Columbus Symphony Orchestra's performance at the Ohio Theater downtown.

You would be justified to think at this point Most of those words have never been presented in that particular order about something YOU did. 

But I did it because of the particular music they began the performance with: Aaron Copeland's Appalachian Spring. (I didn't know that the second piece would be based on letters written by Abraham Lincoln, but that was a nice bonus as well.) You can click this link to see some of the details of the show.

Copeland has been my favorite American composer since I was in high school. This was because of a set of circumstances that combine pop culture and marching band--so of course, it had to happen to me.

If you are of a certain age, you likely remember the "Beef. It's What's for Dinner" commercials that ran frequently on television during the Reagan Eighties. The jaunty upbeat symphonic music that linked cattle on the range to your Saturday night dinner table was courtesy of Aaron Copeland. (It is from the Rodeo suite, to be specific. The fourth movement is named "Hoedown.") Copeland became an even more mainstream name because of this bump in his musical exposure and brought awareness deep into South Georgia to me. 

I was further locked into Copeland soon after when my high school marching band capitalized on this popular awareness by incorporating the beats and some musical elements of "Hoedown" into the percussion feature of a halftime show one year. 

But that only linked me to Copeland himself. It didn't take very long for me to hear Appalachian Spring for the first time. And that was courtesy of the (Garfield) Cadets (of Bergen County) drum corps show of 1987.

(The final two minutes of this show . . . from the enormous musical hit of "Simple Gifts" through the scatter drill break and resolve into the march off of the field remains in my top three most impactful drum corps moments over 40 years after seeing it for the first time. Just chills-inducing.)

It was all over for me at that point.

I listened to a cassette recording of Appalachian Spring MANY times in the intervening high school years. In my bedroom at night, in the dark, with the volume down. Sometimes riding my bike around town via my Walkman. (When I wasn't otherwise listening to XTC's "Oranges & Lemons" or R.E.M.*)

But--to bounce back to the present.

It was a great thrill to enjoy such stellar music live. Copeland especially, but the entire program was great and we had such a good time. We are lucky to have the arts available to us here and I'm very happy we had the chance to be there and listen.

*More on this in an upcoming post.

COV119D-19: PARTY MONTH #3--XXV

They say for better and for worse.

They say for richer and for poorer.

They say in sickness and in health.

Two out of three about covers it for this year, I think.

Wednesday was never the way that I imagined my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. How could I imagine such as thing when I was a simple youth of 24? I had never heard of a coronavirus? (Such a thing must have existed somewhere back in 1995, right? Just not in my corner of south Georgia.)

But I knew little of anything in that corner of south Georgia. On that particular day, I only knew that marrying Lynda Thompson was the thing for me. And I did it happily. And I've enjoyed our partnership ever since. Through Ohio, through jobs, through pregnancy, through labor, through three births, through raising children into young adults and burgeoning teens.

It's been stressful and wonderful and life-altering. It's been everything I could imagine and much, much more. It's been the defining crux of my life. It was what I wanted then and what I want still--even through the challenges and the unknowns. Even though the frustrations of parenting young adults in this time. 

I wanted to be doing other things during the summer of our twenty-fifth anniversary. But there will be a twenty-sixth and a twenty-seventh. There will be a thirtieth, a fortieth, and even a fiftieth. We have more time to catch what we don't have now. Because now is just a moment. But our commitment and our love to one another is a lifetime.

Here is to next year. And whatever may come after that!

COV112D-19: PARTY MONTH #2--Happy Birthday Lynda

Party Month is a merciless time. As soon as you settle into one celebration and give it your all, you've got another one looming in the background. If you don't keep your head on a swivel, you'll be blind-sided and unprepared for what and who comes next.

Last weekend, we took some time to cheer Grace and her excellence. And I wish that we could keep that up for days and weeks on end. But if you do that then you run the risk of not giving Lynda her due. So we must also raise our voices to point out how wonderful Lynda is and take a brief and inadequate moment to remember how great she is.

(And yes, I recognize that I didn't post this yesterday--on Lynda's actual birthday. I got caught up in my own merciless march of things.)

But post I will, because Lynda is such an important part of this family: a strong voice of love and commitment. A person who has fierce view of herself, of us, and of our power and potential. Let's face it--the Martins have a tendency to hang back, to be cautious, to move carefully. But Lynda has always been strong and confident in her beliefs and in her role as a creator of change and success. She pushes my hesitation boundaries and helps me be better at the things I know I should do.

But it's not all work and tasks! Lynda is always looking for ways to have fun and bring happiness into life. She is never content to just let things be--she is actively trying to make good things better.

So, happy birthday to you, my friend, my wife, and my partner through so much of the uncertainty of right now. As I said to you a few days ago--we're learning how to parent all over again . . . but this time with teenagers and young adults rather than with children. It's extremely different! That is something that we are coming to realize. But I'm so happy that I am doing it with you.

COV59D-19

Happy Mothers Day to my mom Margo, to my wife Lynda, to my mother-in-law Cheri, to my sister Mary, my sister-in-law Virginia, to my sister-in-law Ashlyn, and to all the mothers out there! I hope that you can find time for peace and reflection and satisfaction on Mothers Day.

. . .

You know, I started to write something about the unique joys as well as the burdens of being a mother. But, as you know, I have no idea what it means to be a mother or any real concept of how it feels to be a mother these days. I can only observe it and formulate my own opinions. But to suggest I understand it is nonsense. So I really shouldn't try.

I am grateful for my mother, who watched over me and cared for me in so many ways through my life and to today. And I am deeply grateful to my wife and her role as a mother in my own family. Lynda does so many good things, and I should be a better and more consistent job of thanking her for all that she does.

I hope you all enjoy your day today and can find some rest and peace today and in the week ahead.

Party Month 2019: XXIV

Twenty-four years later and I'm still so very, very lucky. As I've said before, the decision to marry Lynda Thompson was hands-down the easiest and smartest decision that I've ever made. Done without hesitation and never with regret. 

It's been the basis of my good life and the foundation of all that makes my life good for the last several decades. 

What would life have been like if we had not chosen to go to Georgia Southern? What would things be like if we had not met and she had given me the inner courage to speak my feelings without fear? How might things be different if so many small things had spun in a slightly different direction? Certainly my life would be different. But I do not see how it would be better. She is better. And she makes me try to be better as well.

Thank you Lynda for saying yes then and for working to keep it going every day thereafter.

Happy anniversary!

Party Month 2019: Happy Birthday no. 2

It's the first of July, so its time for the annual tradition of Party Month. For those of you who don't know Party Month represents a sequence of:

Grace's birthday (July 26)
Lynda's birthday (July 1)
Wedding anniversary (July 8)
Sarah's birthday (July 22)

***

Lynda's birthday is today and while it feels like this week is exceptionally busy, I do hope that we all take some time to celebrate her and acknowledge how important she is in our family life and in the community that we have created here.

Lynda is so committed to her work and her goals and to our family and to improving the world. (The only problem with establishing the precedent of Party Month every year is that I need to find new and more significant ways to say how great everyone is each year without sounding redundant or trite. And I hope that it doesn't come across that way.)

Simply states, Lynda is so important to me. She is my partner. She is my sounding board. She puts up with my moods and my failings. She helps me think about things beyond my nose. I'm so glad to share my days with her and so I'm very glad to take a moment to remind all of you to celebrate her as well.

So, happy birthday my love! Thank you for all the things you do. I hope you take time this week to reflect on the good things in life and to see how your presence has helped create some of that good as well.

Party Month 2017 #3: XXII

Rye Beach, Huron, Ohio

Last night I posted this image on Facebook. And I meant it as a joke, playing off the idea of look how much Lynda has changed since we first got married 22 years ago! (Because, you know . . . she's Iron Man now . . . )

But I got paranoid and worried that people would take it the wrong way and interpret it to mean that boy, how has our relationship changed and I wasn't prepared for this when we got married 22 years ago!

That ISN'T what I meant. But, let's be honest. It is still a true statement.

My 24-year-old self couldn't (and definitely didn't) know what lay ahead for him more than two decades after July 8, 1995. At the time, he was more focused on walking down the aisle to what was in front of him without tripping or looking foolish. But even with the future an unknowable thing, he need not have worried. As long as he reached his destination at the end of that church aisle, beside that altar, the rest would work itself out.

And that HAS been true.

Come what may, having Lynda beside me has made it all better, has made the harder times bearable, has made the joyful times even more joyful. Our family is all that I ever imagined for myself and it has given me more than I knew I wanted. And it all comes from saying "I do" 22 years ago today.

I did.
I do.
I will.

I love you. I thank you.
Happy anniversary Lynda--my love, my friend.

Party Month 2017 #2

Happy birthday to Lynda--our second installment in the month-long series of celebrations that I call Party Month.

I've been fortunate enough to know Lynda for almost thirty years now and I've written about how amazing she is in the past. So, I have to be honest and say that I am sitting here trying to come up with something new to praise her for and I've struggling to avoid repeating myself. But those qualities that I have celebrated in the past remain true now.

Lynda is a wonderful friend and a great wife; she's a fantastic mom and an excellent partner. She's a dedicated and hard-working colleague. She's so great, you run out of ways to explain it. If you know her, you already know what I mean.

I know I've said this before, but this definitely bears repeating at least once a year. Meeting and marrying Lynda was (hands down) the best decision I ever made.

I love her and am glad to enjoy a bit of her reflected glory.

Here is hoping you have a wonderful birthday and that you find a bit of time to relax and reflect on what makes you so special to me and to everyone else who knows and loves you.

Memories of Red, White, and Boom

It has been a good eighteen years.

Party Month 2015

 It's been an eventful Party Month--as they often are. (For those of you who may not know, the stretch of the calendar from late June through late July is called Party Month at our house. Why? Well, it encompasses Grace's birthday, Lynda's birthday, Lynda and my wedding anniversary, and Sarah's birthday.)

Party Month 2015 ALSO included a family trip down to Ft. Walton, Florida for some beach fun with the rest of the Martins. So, as I said . . . eventful.

We started Party Month off with a celebration of Grace's 12th birthday. I know that I say this every year . . . but I really love how Grace holds such a fierce attitude toward life and towards herself. She expects the best and the most out of herself. And while that sometimes generates feelings of frustration, I want her to hold onto her high standards and keep up the fight.
It's no secret that over the years, the quick temper that she inherited from me has caused clashes between us. But I'm very happy to say that those kinds of problems have diminished so much as she has aged and matured.
You might think that her middle child status might be a problem. But then you don't know Grace Martin. She's never going to allow you to overlook her. (And you totally should not. She's a special person and is only getting better.

As June transitioned into July, the family packed up and we went to the beach for fun with family in Florida.  I hope that everyone had as good a time as I did. And I hope Florida got to appreciate hosting the 2015 Official Hat of Summer for a few days. While we were there I hung out on the beach, played in the surf, went fishing with my brothers and my dad and enjoyed lots of good food and family time. While we were travelling down South, we also had the chance to finally eat at Amy's SASS restaurant in Thomasville and to see the new Thompson twins in Waycross. The food was delicious (as expected) and the babies were cute (as predicted). It is too bad that we can't be with family more often. But I hope we made the best of it when we have the chance.

While we were in Florida, Lynda and I observed our 20th wedding anniversary. We got to go out by ourselves and had a really great dinner--with incredibly fast service--at the Red Bar. It was highly recommended by many people that we talked to and I definitely wasn't disappointed by the experience.
(I feel that much of this stuff isn't really news to you guys, because we've already posted these pictures and made comments on the Facebook pages while it was happening. But the institutional pull of WWYG?! and occasional blogging demands that I try to put some of these events into a different perspective anyway. Maybe I did a better job describing Party Month in years past when my digital focus wasn't pulled onto different platforms and social media services so often.)
And there are many, many more things to say about the 20 years of happiness that Lynda and I have shared. But I'm hoping to focus on that stuff later this year . . . when bigger plans for a anniversary-dedicated trip can be discussed. So, just assume that I know I'm incredibly lucky.

Once we got home from Florida, it's time to settle back into the rest of the summer and look for fun before the mid-August first-day-of-school arrives. Part of THAT effort was when Grace and Sarah and I stood in line outside Columbus' Ohio Theater to experience a bit of the Paper Towns movie pre-release madness. The weather wasn't too hot or rainy and the crowds were amiable and excited. We were treated to a 19 minute preview of the film and a question & answer session with author John Green and three members of the film's cast. I think we all had fun experiencing a bit of Nerdfighteria IRL. Maybe it wasn't as intense as the Pottercast visit back in 2007 . . . but it was still fun.

And then, as happens each year . . . Party Month comes to a close with Sarah's birthday. This year she is turning 15 and is firmly established in teenagerdom and high schoolery. And as is often the case, her birthday overlaps with some other event. In years past it was either our church's Vacation Bible School or when she was out-of-town at a summer camp. In 2015, it just happened to be both of those things at once!
So, she wasn't here when the big day came. But we'll find a way to celebrate after she (and Grace) return from Procter Camp this weekend.
From my perspective, I think Sarah is handling her teenage years pretty well. There are definitely highs and lows--but she is holding onto a pretty clear understanding of who she is. Unfortunately, she is just having to wait for other people to catch up to her. And I dearly wish it could happen faster. Sarah is funny and smart and engaging and great and I really want more and more people to understand that. Someday they will. And we can say we knew it first.

So, goodbye Party Month 2015. It was a good one.

Ye Olde Labour Day Weekende

Yeah, we went to the Ohio Renaissance Festival with the kids today. It was the opening weekend of the yearly event and it sort of felt a bit like old times (olde tymes?) for Lynda and I.

The last time we visited a Renaissance Festival was this very same one between Columbus and Cincinnati, but it was probably 14 years ago, back before we had kids, when we were just a  footloose couple looking to have fun. (But naturally, since we aren't THAT carefree, we still had to do it in the context of taking some kids from our (then) church to have fun on a Saturday.

This time it was our own kids having the fun. (If you're a Facebook friend of mine, you can see the pictures over in that space. You can get there by clicking the WWY Facebook?! link at the top of this blog page.) We ate some food, listened to some minstrels, walked around a bit. I even got to drink some hard apple cider, which was nice.

Of course, Ren Fests are not entirely new to Lynda and I, kids or not, Ohio or not. Our first visit back in time was way back in our college days. My room mate Gerry and some of his friends were frequent merry-makers and they had the garb and swords to prove it. Lynda and I weren't THAT committed, but we traveled down that road a tiny bit--at least I did. See below for the evidence. (These photos came out of my 1992 scrapbook.)

(Yeah, that's right . . . I kept pretty extensive scrapbooks once upon a time.)

The jester's hat was Gerry's. The sweet Macintosh computer was also Gerry's. This was our dorm room above Honors House on the Georgia Southern U. campus. This half room upstairs was later declared a fire hazard. But Gerry lived up there for two years and I lived up there for three. But let's focus on the hat, okay?

The fair maiden Lynda bedecked with her Renaissance Festival hair garland. (There's a ribbon running down the back. The t-shirt is also a Ren Fest souvenir, but you can't get a good look at the design. I think this was taken in the "backyard"area of Honors House, near where the steps lead to the basement.

Here I am all decked out in my full garb. Pants, shirt, necklace. looooong tasseled hat with a fancy pattern and a cute little jingly bell on the end. (This was worn for Halloween one year, so THAT is why I am wearing socks with my sandals. It was late October and cold. Plus . . . my feet are ugly.

Proof that we knew how to have fun once upon a time.

XVIII

We are deep into Party Month here at the Martin household, but today I want to celebrate one milestone event above Grace's 10th birthday, Lynda's 40th birthday, or Sarah's upcoming 13th birthday.

Today, we celebrate the union that brought (almost) all of those other events to pass. I mean, presumably Lynda would have turned 40 someday had she met me or not. But the other items on the list were the result of a decision we made public 18 years ago today. We stood in Lynda's childhood church in Valdosta, Georgia and pledged our lives to each other--to have, to hold, for richer, for poorer, for all the things you expect to say and for all the things that you can't even imagine you will one day come to say.

Because of THAT pledge, exactly 18 years ago, so many things in our lives pivoted into a new shared direction.

15 years and approximately six days ago, we arrived in southwest Columbus, with all that we owned in a 25-foot truck and a packed Chrysler LeBaron. We celebrated your 25th birthday, Red White and BOOM, and the upcoming Independence Day weekend with lots of moving, furniture lifting, sweat, a fair bit of arguing, and LOTS of exhaustion. But the life we pledged back in Valdosta in 1995 was firmly OURS. We were in a new state, alone, uncertain, but together.

12 years and 351 days ago, we welcomed Sarah into our pair and the family that we had always talked about began to become reality. Sarah drew us out of ourselves and helped us to be better people, who had responsibilities to meet, values to demonstrate, and lessons to teach. She taught us more levels of humility and fear, as well as avenues of happiness that we are still experiencing.

10 years and 11 days ago, Grace joined our trio and made us realize that parenting is all about relearning. Whatever we thought we knew about what worked was tested anew by a completely new individual. And similarly, she introduced us to her own pathways of happiness and pride that made parenting that much more enjoyable again.

5 years and 166 days ago, Hannah completed our group with her own special brand of confidence, laughter, and brashness. She reflects the best and worst of all of us, encapsulating the experiences and personalities of this family that had its beginnings on the hot Valdosta day eighteen years ago . . . today.

So, happy anniversary to my wonderful wife on the day that we officially started it all.

Sure, once might say that it really started on that day in Honors House 22 years and some odd number of days before . . . but I've got to save some stories to write about in the anniversary years to come--20, 30, 37 years ahead.

Seventeen Years

Happy anniversary to my friend and best companion.

Birthday Wishes

In the midst of all the storm frenzy and Grace's birthday partying of the past few days, here's hoping that you don't feel that your birthday is getting overlooked.

You and I did get to have a few hours to ourselves earlier this week to enjoy a meal, some dessert, some strolling, and time to talk without children interruptions. And that was such a valuable and special thing to me and I hope you liked it as well.

You've been the best thing in my life since the day we met over twenty years ago. And I look forward to so many more things to enjoy with you as our lives continue to change in the next twenty years. Thank you for the gift of yourself in my life and may I turn every day you have into a gift for you--birthday or not.

Love today, tomorrow, and always.

Express Lane

Tonight, Lynda and Hannah went to the grocery story after dinner to . . . um . . . pick up some groceries. And, as you do, she crossed paths with a father and child as they wandered up and down the aisles. Hannah and the daughter said hello to each other as they saw each other again and again on each successive aisle. And that might have been the end of it, just a few moments of courtesy and child-like innocence during the mundane tasks of every day.

But, they met again at the check out lanes, and the man was in line first. His cart was unloaded, the clerk was scanning the items, things were proceeding to a close. At this moment, the father discovered that he has forgotten his wallet. Suddenly the last 45 minutes was wasted; all of the items would be moved and restocked; what could be done?

Lynda immediately offered to pay for his groceries, to help him out and prevent the crisis. The man reacted with a bit of shock, as did the store clerk. They asked again . . . are you sure you want to do this? Again, Lynda agreed to pay for his groceries. So, in gratitude, the man and Lynda exchanged contact information. He promised to send a check for the amount. Lynda paid, and the man and his daughter went on their way, unburdened from their problem with a brief act of kindness and charity.

These are the sort of things that don't happen enough. These are the sort of things that we should all try to do for each other. To make the world a nicer place with happier people, look for opportunities to do good things. Small things are sometimes the most meaningful of all.

Parents Wordle

Most of the time, the papers that the kids bring home from school are just the daily detritus of their time away from us . . . worksheets, old tests, homework papers we first saw when they were blank and mysterious. And after a perfunctory scan to see that there are no important notes from the teacher, a report from the school nurse, or warnings of academic insufficiency . . . they are recycled or tossed into the trash can.

So, when Sarah pulled out a stack of papers this afternoon, I was prepared for more of the same. I flipped through and examined the old tests, to see what she had been getting wrong. I looked for old stories that I didn't know she had written. I check teacher comments to see encouraging things like "Good job!" "Well described!" and the like.

But then I saw a Wordle in the mix and a few of the words caught my eye--words I recognized such as "boo yah." "awesome," and "Mom." I asked her what it was and found that in her technology class last month they were asked to create a Wordle describing her parents. And I am happy to see the nice things that Sarah conjured to describe us.

Enjoy!
(I know that I did.)

Husband Olympics . . .

Wednesday night as were were driving home from Hilliard, I told Lynda about an odd discussion I had with a coworker at work that day. It seems that she was writing an educational activity on the United Nations, but she wanted to try and write it in such as way as to spark the interest of the potential student learner. So, she decided to cast her educational discussion in terms of the George Lucas Star Wars universe. She heard (I guess?) from someone (who?) that I "was a Star Wars expert" and wanted my opinion on her "facts."

It seems, she wanted to know whether it was all right/acceptable to make a comparison between the United Nations and the Galactic Senate. I thought about it for a minute (in all seriousness!) and then warned her that it was probably more accurate to make a comparison between the United Nations and the Jedi Knights. 

The Jedi were the main peacekeeping and negotiating arm of the Republic, even thought they were an extralegal body--technically independent of, but working along with the Galactic Senate.

My colleague seemed happy with that answer and went on her way to write other dubious educational activities.

As I related all of this to Lynda later in the day, I questioned the original assumption of the conversation that I was an "expert" at Star Wars. Maybe I had once been an expert in that universe (more on THAT topic later this week . . .) but the bad taste left in my mouth by the prequel movies--as well as the inevitable aging and moving on factor (again . . . later . . .) made me question whether I could properly be seen as expert. (Heck, I don't even watch the Star Wars: Clone Wars animated series with any regularity. 

So, yeah, I knew some stuff, but expert? No.

But, I asked Lynda in that car as I related all of this to her, what WAS I an expert at?

Anything?

We talked about it and agreed that maybe once upon a time I was an expert in Star Trek. I'd watched all of ST: TNG, ST: DS9, ST: Voyager, and even (God help me) ST: Enterprise. I'd seen all the movies. I'd even purchased companion books. But that series was tapped out and the culture had moved on. 

Sure, I was more than familiar with the Tolkien universe. I'd read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings many times. Also The Silmarillion and many of the History of Middle Earth books put forth by his son Christopher. And, I definitely seen all of the Peter Jackson movies--and celebrated them for their truthful rendition of the written story.

Definitely I could be considered an expert (in the local sense, anyway) for Harry Potter or LOST. Yet, it was increasingly clear that I was an expert in NOTHING useful! In an apocalyptic situation, I would be good for nothing.

Then I said, somewhat jokingly, to Lynda, perhaps I could be considered an expert husband? Naturally, I expected her to enthusiastically agree and then we could move on with our lives, but she didn't go there. She begrudgingly accepted that my suggestion might be possible, but it wasn't the ringing endorsement that I had been hoping for.

So I asked her, well, if I'm not an EXPERT would I qualify for the Husband Olympics? She said that oh, yes, I would definitely qualify for that. But she said it a bit too easily, as if I wasn't aiming high enough.

So I asked her if I could get nominated for the Husband Academy Awards?

She easily said NO, I would NOT qualify for that.

After teasing it out of her a bit, it became apparent that I would not get a Husband Oscar nomination because there are only five nominations. It is simply TOO selective and I don't measure up. I don't have the skills or a hope of making such a rarefied cut. But the Husband Olympics, well, that is a lot more forgiving, right? The Olympics let in just about any country that can pay for its own airfare. They welcome participation from everyone . . . all the more to seem inclusive and providing everyone the chance to earn fight for their place at the table.

Diminished in my own expectations of husbandry, I said no more about the entire affair and moved on with the rest of my night.

My only hope of medaling in this husband Olympics, it seems, is if I go up against Jamaica.

My Town Terrace memories

If James Lileks and I were friends, I would surely have informed him about The Town Terrace, a 1950s style motor court in my hometown of Tifton, Georgia.

The Town Terrace has been around since before I was born. It earned its mid-century decor the honest way. The rumor that surrounded the place was that the widowed owner of the place, Violet Van Gundy, used to play Darla of Little Rascals fame when she was a young girl in the 1930s.

It turns out that rumor was partially correct, if this newspaper article is any indication.

I think Mr. Lileks would really enjoy the Town Terrace, and might even want to put it in his Web page on similar hotels of the era. He does have a Georgia section, but it doesn't feature this particular place.

But I have my own reasons for liking The Town Terrace. It was my home for approximately a month and a half during the summer of 1995. You can read all about it here. (Ultimately, this is the whole point of this entire series of links and posts, so please make sure that you read this one at least. Thanks.)

Maybe I'll let Lileks know about the place. And if he likes it, perhaps I can tell him about another place I know that fits a different Web site of his. But that is another post at another time.

Another dream sequence

Over this past weekend, I had another dream in a mall.

But this was a regular mall, not a weird surreal Mall of Madness.

It went down like this.

Lynda, Hannah, and I were in the men's clothing section of a generic anchor store in your typical generic mall. It was probably either J.C. Penneys or Sears or maybe Belks. But I was in the market for a track suit. (Perhaps I was getting ready to go back in time and reinvent myself as a 80s style rapper?)

I had my eye on a nice red number that one of the mannequins was sporting--bright red (to get the ladies attention?) two piece ensemble with a zip-up jacket/hoodie and straight-legged pants (no elastic at the cuffs, yo!). But what really set it all off was the addidas-style white stripes (think Fat Boys, not White Stripes) running down both pant legs.

So, I knew what I wanted. I just had to get the right size. I got the proper jacket, but for some reason I couldn't locate a corresponding pair of the red pants. I waited around for a bit, hoping to get some sales clerk assistance, but even in a dream sequence, no help was to be found.

I eventually cornered a store manager and he told me that they were completely out of the pants, but he directed me to one of the sales clerks. Lynda and I (and I was holding Hannah) discussed our problem with the clerk (who, for whatever reason I can't begin to explain was of Arab descent). He led the three of us through the men's department and out of the store into the mall corridors.

At this point I thought he was going to lead us to some separate storage or merchandise staging area where the appropriate pants were available. But we just kept walking past store entrances and through the wide mall expanses.

Suddenly, I found that part of the mall floor was moving. (You know how in airport walkways part of the floor is a motorized belt that speeds you along faster than regular walking?) Well, I and Hannah were on this moving part--which wasn't a rubberized mat but was made of the same tile as the stationary mall floor that Lynda and the store clerk were on.

As I realized that I was on this moving floor, I lost my balance and fell backwards. I landed safely--kind of like if I was sliding down a waterslide, not flat on my back but semi-upright--and kept Hannah from harm. But I felt the floor's pace quicken and I could see that it was propelling me toward a wall that jutted outward from a Chik-fil-A entrance. (The floor just kept moving underneath the bottom of the wall protuberance.) As I slid non-stop to this barrier (which was also . . . oddly . . . guarded by a regular sidewalk bench that was supporting a couple sitting in front of the Chik-fil-A; again, the moving floor just slid right beneath their feet), I leaned over and sort of handed off/tossed Hannah to Lynda, who was on safe, predictable solid "ground."

With the baby safe, I just sort of curled up and let myself get slammed into the bench/barrier at the feet of the sitting couple. It turns out--though I couldn't have told you who they were in the dream--Lynda and I knew them from church. So, I got up, got off of the moving floor, and we chatted for a few minutes.

But then we went on our way, again following the sales clerk who was now leading us out of the mall itself and suddenly we were walking with him through a moderately forested area (tall, Georgia pines) that cast a shady area on a courtyard of an apartment complex. On either side of the little artificial glen screen doors indicated the entrances to apartments. There were little squares of concrete that was each entrances stoop and I sat down on one of these in the piney shade to see what was going to happen next.

At this point, I was now rationalizing that the sales clerk we had been following was going to offer me a pair of red (and white striped) track suit pants that he owned, even though he was at least six inches taller than me and probably 50 pounds more muscular. (He was wearing a generic sales outfit of black pants, white shirt, and black suit vest. He was very handsome in a non-me sort of way.)

So, I'm sitting, Lynda is standing to the side holding Hannah just waiting and staring at the apartment screen door that the clerk is opening. Upon opening, he is greeted by an older man that is clearly his grandfather. I don't remember that the two exchange any words but the clerk who has led us all this way without so much as speaking to us now turns to Lynda (ignoring my presence COMPLETELY) and asks her to marry him.

. . .


!!!


To her credit, Lynda immediately slumps a bit in disappointment, turns to look me in the eyes and gives a full-bodied, very weary sort of sigh.

And then the dream ends.

Titletown, USA--VALDOSTA??!!

In one of the more stunning upsets in sports today, my Tifton, Georgia hometown rival has been voted ESPN's Titletown, USA.



Valdosta (where Lynda spent most of her formative childhood years, incidentally) is home to two high schools. The city school (Valdosta HS) was a football power, beating everyone else regularly and providing the local moniker of "Winnersville." I was always more concerned with the county school Lowndes HS, because it was the rival band powerhouse--alongside my own Tift County Blue Devil Brigade. I didn't care what football team won--in fact, as a member of the band, I'd often be riding on the bus to an away game during a Friday night and I wouldn't even know where we were headed.

But, Valdosta has beaten out the likes of Green Bay Wisconsin (the original, pre-Internet "Titletown," Ann Arbor, Columbus, and so many other places besides. The full list of nominees can be read here.

I'd say congratulations to Valdosta, but my high school self won't let me.