IT WAS IN C-MINOR

You know, the four most famous of Beethoven's notes. Da-da-da-da. That's what I learned last night at a Hershey Felder concert.

He also does Chopin and Gershwin. Beethoven lived to be 56, but for perhaps 20 of those years he was deaf, possibly due to beatings his father gave him as a child.

It was an excellent one-man show. Of the trilogy, Gershwin was my favorite, but all three are worth seeing. I learned some other stuff last night, too.

Number 1, I stayed too long at the fair as my wife says. I was watching the Cardinals whip up on the rival Cubs and had to leave for the show. Which I thought would take us 20 minutes to get there. We left 45 minutes early and barely were parked and seated by showtime.

Also, the glare of the sun at that time of day for my drive is getting harder and harder on me. Maybe it's my sunglasses. You see, I go back and forth on sunglasses.

As one who shunned them for years, I now embrace them and wish I had always done that. Maybe those crows feet, that murder of crows feet that line my face wouldn't be quite so deep. But back to my back and forth. I used to buy cheapo sunglasses and abuse them, lose them, forget them.

Then I bought semi-expensive ones and abused them. Now I buy Maui Jim, definitely expensive. I take care of them. But I don't know if they help the glare anymore than the $10 ones.

I'm always learning. And that's good. I know a little more about one of the famous B composers. I know to leave home earlier. (They usually just walk Pujols when the game gets interesting anyway.) The jury's still out on the sunglasses.

MY COMMENCEMENT ADDRESS

wouldn't leave the grads looking like these Virginia Military Institute men.

They wouldn't have that opportunity. Because I wouldn't talk long. But if the Obamas can give commencement addresses, then maybe I could, too.

I'd try to follow the President's example and stay for the entire graduation ceremony and handing out the diplomas. All 9,000 of them at Arizona State in stifling heat. He really showed some class at that graduation.

To the graduating class of 2009:

Congratulations! You have achieved. You have shown that you can take on a task and complete that task.

Before you get to work, and by the way, you will find work take my advice. Just think. Don't allow the media to dictate. Don't allow current culture to either. You have a brain. Even if you bought into all the slanted truths and rewritten history at this university, it's time to put that in the past. You had to jump through hoops and you did. But that's over. Now it's your time. You've earned it.

The real world awaits. There's a lot of ways you can improve it and improve yourself. First, don't forget to take care of the spiritual you. Follow Jesus and His commands to love God with all your strength, all your mind, and all your soul. And love your neighbor as yourself. Do those two. You won't regret it.

Secondly, don't forget to take care of your mental being. Challenge yourself. Continue formal and informal education. Travel. Broaden your interests. Read. Everything you can get your hands on.

Finally, don't forget the physical side. You will age. With age all too often comes girth. Exercise. Drink plenty of water. Live for moderation in what you eat.

Ring that last bell. Throw that mortar board high. Today is your day.

THE OPPORTUNITY OFTEN ECLIPSES THE PROBLEM

Or so I like to think. How many times have we wished for the chance? For one opportunity to tell someone what we think? To stand face to face with them and communicate?

And when by sudden chance we do, we freeze. We have a dose of reality set in. We think better. By clamming up, we preserve our dignity, perhaps save our jobs, certainly save face (both literally and figuratively), or help us to prepare for the next encounter.

Sometimes, all we need is a chance, too. To perform. A friend of mine in junior college was older, married, a veteran who had traveled extensively. In other words, a complete opposite of a 17-year old frosh in his a Speech class. We also shared an English class and sometimes would help each other with essays. He, a great conclusion paragraph writer, and I the intro with thesis writer.

When I gave a speech on the Kennedy assassination, he had to critique me in class for a grade. We were friends, yes, but he was a grade-conscious maven who thought himself an expert on Kennedy. He had slammed me on my speech in his written critique until question time.

When I went into great detail about powder burns and proximity, he changed my evaluation. He was ready to nail me to the wall until I had the opportunity to eclipse his initial reaction.

And, strange as that may be, that's what came to mind upon finding the quote. A long ago friend for a season and a college Speech class. So this quote, unlike yesterday's must be accurate.

ONE AT A TIME

The poster says. Change Your Life One Moment at a Time. But how does one do that?

Moments is an accurate description. Fleeting. All too sudden. And then on to something else.

They simply don't linger. They hardly last long enough to give your mind's eye a picture. One that's stored in your memory bank.

I know, you're waiting for examples. I make a statement that calls for support, for proof and I don't give it. There's a reason. It's my moment, my memory. Unless we share in it, you won't feel a thing. Comprende?

Now, why would I want to change my life one moment at a time? The poster seems to imply that everyone should or does desire that. But we all have great moments. I wouldn't want to change some of them for anything.

The things I'd love to change, for the most part, I can't. I don't have the control. So if you haven't figured it out yet, I don't agree with the saying on the poster.

I'm more into making moments. Making lasting memories. That's the change I want. To make a moment last.

AND THE SWINE FLEW

We've all heard of "When pigs fly"; now we fortunately have "When the swine flew." I'm glad, for a number of reasons.

In grade school there was the Asiatic Flu. Parents were concerned, but they were controlled about it. Newscasts mentioned it, but didn't overkill, didn't seem to want it to take on pandemic proportions. Not today. And that's one reason I'm glad the swine flew.

Another reason is not to wish people illness. For the first time in my life, I suffered no colds or flu symptoms this year. You see, I'm a nose and eyes rubber, therefore, it's easier for me to pick up and deposit germs in those areas of my body. But I take 1 gram of vitamin C daily, and that's what I give credit for the sniffle-free Winter of '08-'09. As for others, I've never been too sadistic to wish anyone else suffers, so I'm glad all the swiners were just that--flu free.

My final reason is economical. As much as I do enjoy watching the media take its hits when they are so negative as to try to make bad news rather than report bad news, the cost of stopping a pandemic hits us in the pocketbook. With the spending proposals of the new admin., I'm afraid any additional monies relegated to another rathole cause, is more government waste at the expense of the overburdened taxpayer. (Sorry for such a long sentence; I just got carried away.)

And if there's one more reason, it's because I fear there was a lot of relief on the part of a few females. The ones in high school and junior college who told me they'd love to go out with me. When pigs flew.

AT THE SHED

When in the times of reconstruction and reformation, there lived a little troll like man. His abode was a hovel that was underground. At least under the railing, bronzed and blackened where paint had been rubbed away by grimy hands. It's where he has made his home for the last 9 years.

Nine years is a long time to be hoveled up and make a life for oneself.

Gerard was his name, but he couldn't really remember whether it was his first name or last. But he would rise and groundhog like assess the weather before ascending to the world that he felt so apart from.

But, of course, that was before he found the shed. Where his reality...

Well, you get the picture. It was written total stream -of-conscience as I sat down at the computer. It's my latent or perhaps inane Stephen King.

It was similar to an assignment I gave my students. A warm up exercise before computer labs when writing was a physical as well as mental process.

Go ahead: try it. Remember--plan nothing ahead. Just type like crazy for a very short time and see where it takes you. You know you want to. Go ahead. Nobody's looking. And you don't even have to share it with anyone. Or better yet, receive a grade for.