Random Thoughts

• The Fort Smith Classic was last weekend. As usual, the whispers are "That's it, that's the last one." Given this was the worst-attended tournament in the 12-year history, I think they might be right. It's sad more people haven't gotten on the bandwagon for the tournament. I admit, I thought it was ridiculous when they started. But now I realize we don't have anything else in Fort Smith that could attract national attention. It's a shame First National Bank, Arkansas Best or even Choctaw Casino hasn't taken over sponsorship rights to this thing. Fort Smith needs something to feel good about, and the tournament could be it.

• Speaking of the golf tournament, it ended on Father's Day. So my first one, I only saw Paige about an hour total all day. That kind of sucked. One of my gifts was "Home Game" by Michael Lewis, author of "The Blind Side," "Liar's Poker" and "Moneyball." He's married to former MTV personality Tabitha Soren. They have three kids. The book is about his adjustment to fatherhood. I give it two thumbs up. It's hilarious, non-Dads would probably enjoy it too.

• Speaking of books, "Idiot America" by Charles Pierce is on my wishlist. It's about how populism is actually a major dumbing down of our national intelligence. And before "Home Game," I finished "The Year of Living Biblically" by AJ Jacobs. It was a good skewering of the people who claim to follow the Bible word-for-word. Given there are 800-plus rules, laws and suggestions in the Bible, Jacobs shows it's impossible to do. Every denomination picks and chooses what they want, but most won't admit it.

• I still haven't gotten a haircut. This is the longest my hair has been since I had the 'fro. Only now I'm using product to tame it. At some point, I'll have to decide if I'm going to let it keep growing or make time to get it cut.

• Dad had knee replacement surgery earlier this week. I'm thinking that's a medical procedure I'd like to avoid, based on how much pain he's been in the past couple of days.

• The baby is whining in her crib, just waking up from nap. Jen's napping too. Got to go.

Mike Irwin gets angry!

"Me" time

Nash recently blogged about the importance of Me Time in his life. I have to say, while reading it I was a little jealous.

You see, Nash wrote about taking time to do his hobbies. And how he's lucky Karen understands he needs Man Time.

The last Man Time I had came after my old friend David's funeral. I had the day off (obviously), Jen was at work and Paige was at Mom's. I had a window of about three hours to myself. So I took the doors off the Jeep and went fishing. I caught one sad little fish.

Since then, the only Me Time happens late on Friday and Saturday nights. Since Jen is still nursing, she wakes up early with Paige each morning around 7:30 a.m. So that means 11-ish is about as late as she can stay up. The problem is, of course, there's nothing to between 11 and 1 a.m. So I've been reading a ton and squeezing in some PlayStation soccer games.

Don't get me wrong. I don't mind sacrificing my time for Paige and Jen. Getting married, you have to learn to be unselfish. But having a baby requires you to completely tamp down your own desires for Me Time.

Jen doesn't have it any better. She's lacking Me Time too. We need to carve out some soon. If for no other reason than I've not had a haircut in more than three months now. So I'm about halfway to having my "turning 30" afro* again.
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* - Thanks to hair product, however, it looks much better than it did back in 1998. Gillette Sculpting Paste gets the Scotty C. Flamingo Seal of Approval. Yes, I'll surrender my Man Card now.

Craig, this is why you should Twitter

DMB's resurgence

OK, enough of that. I didn't realize every time you hit the blog's main page that video about DMB would launch.

Sorry.

Where's Fort Smith?

Congratulations to Poteau for being named one of Outdoor Life’s Top 200 Towns for Sportsmen.

Poteau was ranked No. 145. That’s one spot ahead of Stuttgart, the duck hunting capital of the world. Poteau was one of only two Oklahoma cities to make the list and the closest town to Fort Smith.

According to OutdoorLife.com, the towns were chosen because they “offer affordable housing, low unemployment rates and the potential to earn a decent living, all within a short drive of first-rate hunting and fishing.”

And that begs the question — Why wasn’t Fort Smith in the top 200?

We sit smack dab on the Arkansas River, have several lakes, Frog Bayou and Lee Creek a short distance away and have the headquarters of PRADCO, yet Fort Smith isn’t known as a fishing town.

We’ve got Fort Chaffee and the Ozark and Ouachita National Forests, yet Fort Smith isn’t known as a hunting town.

Managing and improving our natural resources should be a higher priority for Fort Smithians. We’ve squandered them for too long.

Of course, that won't matter to city leaders. Not when they can rubber stamp yet another subdivision of McMansions to be built on Chaffee property. (Even during the economic crisis, they keep building spec homes out there. It just takes longer now, which ironically probably means they're built better than the slap-dash ones from two years ago.) And not when they start pushing for Pine Mountain Dam to be built on Lee Creek, one of the few free-flowing streams left in Crawford County.

Forced patriotism

There are several things I dislike about sports. At the top of the list is forcing patriotism down the throats of the fans.

Around the globe, few nations play their national anthem before every sporting event. In England, they don't fire up "God Save the Queen" before Manchester United matches. They save it for when the English National Team is playing. When two Canadian high school hockey teams are playing, I doubt they crank up "Oh Canada!"

But here in the USA, we do play "The Star-Spangled Banner" at just about every game played. And that's fine. It's become a tradition. It's probably the only time some people actually hear the anthem.

But since 9/11, there's been a new brand of patriotism that's spreading. At Yankee Stadium, you're not allowed to leave your seats during the 7th inning stretch where "God Bless America" is performed. You're expected to stand, remove your hat and be respectful of a song that debuted on a radio show.

Tonight, the rodeo went one step beyond that.

During the pregame festivities, they had the horseback drill team ride around the arena with American flags while a song called "American Pride." Again, you were expected to stand, remove your hat and show proper respect to a song ... recorded by country musical act Alabama in 1992.*

Even worse, the "sound man" for the rodeo had edited in some audio clips between the lyrics. So we got to hear President Bush announce two planes hit the World Trade Towers. Then we got to hear some clips of him talking tough about finding those responsible for the attacks and bringing them to justice. There were three or four more GWB clips, but I quit listening.

Naturally, that wasn't enough either. Mr. Patriotic DJ segued from "American Pride" to that Toby Keith song with the lyric about "putting a boot up your ass because it's the American way."

This brought a huge ovation from the crowd. As I sat there (yes, I remained sitting despite the glares from a couple of people nearby), I saddened that all these people were feeling so patriotic when few, if any, had bothered to thank a veteran or attend a wreath-laying ceremony on Memorial Day.

No, I didn't do either of those things either. But I'd damn sure rather do those things, than get all tinglingly feeling when Lee Greenwood's "Proud to be an American" was played. Which, thankfully, it wasn't.

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* - Actually, they didn't even play the whole "American Pride" song. They edited out a stanza about how life is better in the South because Granny's biscuits and gravy taste so good. I learned this while looking up the song to find out who sings it.

RIP David

That's a photo of David, Beth and Tess at a Steelers game.

For those of you who don't know him, David was one of my childhood friends. He was also one of my roommates at the big downtown apartment I lived during my wild middle 20s.

He was murdered on Wednesday along with another man. David was working installing water pipes for a rural water company. The shooter didn't like David being on his property, so the SOB killed him. The shooter had served two previous prison stints for killing people previously. He's now killed four people.

Anyway, David and I drifted apart when he moved out of the Self's building. He moved in with Beth, they got married and had Tess. We never had a falling out. Never fought or anything. Just went in different directions and failed to keep in touch.

Beth has asked me to write a death notice for David. And to be a pallbearer. I'm honored and humbled by this request. At the same time, I'm worried I won't do David's life justice, since I wasn't part of it for the last 15 years or so.

That brings me to why I'm writing this post. Aside from the sadness and anger I'm feeling, I'm also guilt stricken. I should have made more of an effort to stay in touch.

Since you're reading this blog, you're already one of my close friends (or family). I do not want to lose any of you the way I lost David. Losing a friend is tough enough. Losing a friend twice is even worse.

At that age

The signs I'm an adult are everywhere.

The gray hairs. Having a mortgage. Being at the same job for more than 10 years. A baby. I accept and celebrate all of them. I like being an adult. I'm comfortable in my skin.

But, sometimes, things happen that make me think "Wow, I'm at that age now."

For example, last night I was surfing REI.com. The outdoors company has everything and anything I could ever possibly need or want. Armed with a 20 percent off coupon, I was going to make a purchase.

I was getting myself something I really wanted. Something I'd circled in a catalog. A new rain jacket, since my is 15 years old. Some new trail runners, since my North Face ones are threadbare. Or some hiking boots, since my Asolos are almost slick soled now. Maybe a tee shirt. Or a new pocket knife.

After 30 minutes on the site, I realized - I didn't really want anything. And I damn sure didn't need anything. That's when it hit me. I'm at that age where I've got enough — perhaps even too much — stuff.

In the end, I wound up getting two plain white Coolmax shirts that I wear as undershirts. I only bought them because my old ones are grungy from years of use.

And a sippy cup for Paige.

Rib Room VIP party

The Mayor swings by to do what he does ...



Click on the photo to see the wide view (including Nash and I) ...