I have a confession to make: I listen to Sean Spicer do his White House Briefings every day. He has the absolute worst job in the history of politics, and I find his daily struggling to be almost comical. Confession number 2: I kind of like the guy. He tries his best to answer questions that are almost unanswerable and my favorite part of each day's briefing is when he finishes his prepared statement that is usually well-written and talks about the rights and wrongs of society and how the group is handling the challenges. I can see why Saturday Night Live plucked his daily briefings for comedy gold. Poor Spicey will say something like: "The president yesterday met with ____ to discuss the global policies that shift toward peace and care and overall happiness in a difficult time." Then he hesitates and takes a huge gulp, straining for air. "Now I'll take some questions." The first reporter will say: "There was just a tweet about...
Ever since I heard Born in the U.S.A . back in 1983 I have thought about the one line in the song: "Ten years burning down the road, got nowhere to run, nowhere to go." I often think ahead. Through the years I've always set milestones out there. Where do I want to be? What do I want to accomplish? A lot of people don't think too far ahead, and that drives me nuts. If you use the lefty reliever for six outs on Tuesday, you can't use him again until Friday! You have to plan ahead. Do you flush three games to win one? Anywhoha... Lately I've been thinking about ten years burning down the road. I'll be an unfathomable 62 and a half years old. (God Willing). Will I be walking okay? Right now I'm getting used to the fact that I can not go more than 14 days without a leg and hip massage. The rest of the massage is out the window...it takes the full hour to get my legs moving. I've grown used to it. Will I still be able to...
A couple of things happened over the weekend. First off, I couldn't take sitting around not being a part of the world. I decided to forego a portion of my rest my sore tendon. I got up off the couch and headed to work. I just couldn't take what I was seeing on the news and feeling in my heavy heart. Just too much. I headed for the convenience store and my daily chat with a real nice lady who collects my money for the papers. I pointed to the headline about the president's speech on Sunday night. She started crying. I thought of my wife crying as Obama read off the names of the children. I thought of the Bruce song: This is a prayer for the souls of the departed, those who've gone and left their parents broken-hearted. Their lives over before they got started. This is a prayer for the souls of the departed. My boy was still waiting in the driveway for his bus to come. I wanted to grab him and hug him, but he's 15. He might have kneed me in a bad spot...
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