WHAT'S IN A NAME?

The patient goes to the doctor.

"I can't sleep because I keep having the same dream. I'm inside this...well, I don't know which it is, and there's another one right next to the one I'm in."

"Just calm down and tell me more," the doctor advises.

"I'm struggling to identify, to classify, to name. Are they wigwams or tepees?"

"Describe them to me," she (the female doctor, that is: note no gender bias) suggests.

"Well, they're both tall, pointy, made of Indian type canvas, oh I can't explain. They're just like in the movies in the Old West. What are they, wigwams or tepees? I gotta know."

"Ahh, you're just two tense."

Tents, get it? Two tents.

I don't know. I've never been much of a joke teller, and I'm certain that I butchered that one. But it's a joke our son loves and I like to watch him tell it. In fact I like to watch people tell jokes that they think are funny whether they are or not.

Our pastor, who's just a few years older than our son and reminds me of him somewhat, told a funny story about cutting down his Christmas tree last Christmas. It seems he heard of this good deal where he could go to the forest (keep in mind we live in a desert, so there was some road time included) and cut his own tree for $15.

As he kept telling the very funny story of the adventure, he kept reminding my wife and me of our son. His facial expressions, his pausing, his building of suspense. I'm sure we were laughing harder than any of the other 12 dinner guests at the table, because we were making the same comparison in our minds. Bottom line: his experience was so humbling last year that he paid $12 a foot for his 6 foot tree this season. And saved money.

Sorry, Pastor Rob: I probably messed up the second story, too. I know I'll hear from our son for ruining a perfectly good joke. I guess that may be why I don't share too many On The QT.

VOTE BLUTARSKY

How could he possibly be worse than some we now have in Congress? And where's Pat Paulson?

In its heyday, Saturday Night Live boasted both comedians and satirized their political ambitions. Little did we know then that those two would look good in comparison.

Pelosi, Speaker of the House? Are you kidding me? Unfortuantely, it's real. As in bad.

Barney Frank? How did he survive after the S$L scandal? (No, that's not a typo; I purposely used the dollar sign instead of the &). Actually, how did he survive junior high?

Harry Reid? I thought that was what we used to call a scary story. Well, I guess that still applies.

Joe "The Gaff" Biden? I may always picture him cheesing with the White House intruder who crashed the State Dinner. Not a clue.

And, of course, yet another SNL alum, Al Franken. Sen. from the shameful state of Minnesota. What Jesse "The Body" wasn't enough?

I'm just waiting for the 2010 elections. To see which state Michael Moore will want to represent.

FIFTEEN MINUTES A DAY

When our high school went to the Block Schedule, I was very pleased for a variety of reasons. Selfishly, it allowed me less in-class time and more time for prepping and grading. I used my time so wisely, even choosing to eat at my desk since the admin had taken away our Teachers' Lounge after two strikes, that I almost never took home papers to grade.

For a teacher of Honor English I, College Prep Writing, and American Lit, well that shows how I used my not in-class time. Plus I served as sponsor of our school's literary/art magazine, Junior Engineering and Science Team co-coach, Toss No Mas co-ordinator, hackey sack hall co-coach, once in awhile girls' golf coach, varsity announcer in baseball, football, and basketball, English Honors Seminar co-teacher, and some advisory committees, well I had a full plate. But with good planning, I could shuffle huge writing assignment due dates and still avoid the at-home grading.

But one activity I really enjoyed was the start of every class period or block (I can't recall, but I think each block ran 1 hour and twenty minutes every other day) students were to read from a novel or non-fiction book. That's right: silent reading for the first fifteen minutes. If they didn't bring a book to class, they were docked points, but that almost never happened.

Keep in mind that today's or then's students don't like to carry books, don't like paper of any kind and have enough books to haul around without carrying a novel, too. Our students for some reason never used their assigned lockers either opting to use their cars instead, so for the morning classes for instance, they were saddled with books. But they brought their novel to class knowing that they had 15 minutes of free reading time.

Many got through several books during the semester; some only one. But it gave them more writing opportunities, that is topics spurred by their reading, as well as, if nothing else 15 minutes of quiet time.

So what am I reading now? Bill Bryson's I'm a Stranger Here Myself, Stephen Coonts' The Disciple, Brennan Manning's Our Furious Longing of God, John Ortberg's When the Game is Over It All Goes Back in the Box, and Mitch Albom's Have a Little Faith. That's not true: I actually finished the Albom book last week, but it's such a good read that I threw that in. If you like Tuesdays With Morrie, then you'll really like his latest.

And, yes, sometimes I don't read much more than the fifteen minutes I allotted nearly a decade ago. But on the positive side, I no longer have to eat lunch at my desk while grading.

DRESSED TO THE NINES

When I went to the Cardinals/Vikings game on Sunday night December 6, I saw some weirdly dressed fans. I guess if you're stuck with purple and yellow for team colors, you're starting at a disadvantage anyhow. One Viking fan carried a huge horn that he blew while walking around the concourse.

After they took a 7-0 lead, I'm sure he tooted it loudly. But for the rest of the game, he was stuck with holding a big silent horn in the Cardinal rout.

All over the NFL and college football and basketball games, fans dress up. The adult, or at least adult-aged man with painted Buffalo Bills face and horns, is a prime example.

Those of you who remember our son in high school in the Chaos Corner of Changnon Gym know I have experience with fans dressing up to support their team. Wearing boxing gloves and sporting a blond fuzzy wig was one of the garbs I particularly recall with some fondness. But remember, he and the college fans were young.

I'm addressing middle and older fans. The Redskins (how in the pc world do they get by with that name) fans still embrace their offensive line--The Hogs--by wearing pig snouts, crazy women hats, and dresses when they go to their games in Hanover, Maryland. And the New York Jets play their home games in New Jersey. There are a lot of things about the NFL that I don't get. Oh yeah, and the Arizona Cardinals play in Glendale, AZ, but the name of their stadium is the University of Phoenix Stadium. I don't know.

I've attended a lot of NFL games in 5 different stadiums. The standard attire for me is a jersey and shorts or blue jeans. I've waved a few towels or flags when they gave them away at the door, but that's it for me. Well, except for coming home with a hoarse voice or not at all.

I know; I'm missing out. But I'd rather yell than dress up anyday.

"I'M SHOCKED!"

How can Al Gore be wrong yet again? How can he be in the middle of another scam? another lie? Global warming a hoax? Who could know?

Well, lots of us have doubted Al and global warming for some time. Now, we didn't know about the e-mails and the so-called scientists that reported only what benefited their cause. But we knew enough about the nature of cycles. We knew that the hottest year on record was 1928 for instance.

We had the history of Gore claiming to have invented the internet, and by the way, what had if it had been Quayle or Palin who said that? We watch him cry foul over the 2000 election because of the hanging chads in Florida when he can't even carry his home state of Tennessee.

And it continues. His mansion in Tennessee that was one of the most energy inefficient houses anywhere until it was discovered. His winning big awards for his farces. The celebration of hoaxes.

The thing is, I agree with all the efforts to be green. Just yesterday we took our three carry-in grocery bags when we went shopping. We try to conserve energy and support alternative types of energy use. We embrace windmills and solar. With one caveat--I don't like the new spirally light bulbs: I don't think they're as bright as my old eyes need, and they contain mercury. I don't even think newer thermometers contain mercury. So what do you do when one breaks? Where do you discard a burnt out one?

I wonder of Gore had anything to do with them?

JUST KEEP IT COOL BOYS, REAL COOL

Why is it that we try to be cool? Even at my age? Even around friends and family?

Just what am I afraid of? They're not going to reject me, no matter what. I mean, they have to accept me.

Am I afraid that if I show them how I truly am that they'll think less of me? Am I afraid if they see the real me, they'll really be disappointed? That they'll think me a hypocrite?

I mean, I'm kinda old. According to some, real old. So why be concerned about image? How much impressing do I do these days? At what point to I just chuck the old image I'm trying to display and just be me?

Therein may lie the problem. I've been somebody else for so long that I don't know the real me. Or maybe I'm just naturally one of those guys who oozes cool. Who could know? What is symptomatic of coolness? Is it simply seeming to be at ease? Seeming to be in the know? in control? at peace with how I am?

I remember having this discussion years ago with an on-again/off-again girlfriend. We never settled it then either. I think it had something to do with the tv show Peyton Place. She thought one of the Harrington brothers cooler than the one I thought cool.

Come to think of it, I think she found another guy (or two) cooler than I. I guess that's why we were on-again/off-again. See. So why do I even try to be cool now when I wasn't even then when it was a lot easier to be cool?

SO IF YOU DON'T, WHY NOT?
If you don't pray that is? What could keep you from it?

But what if you mess up? Who's going to know? God knows all about you anyway. Besides, you don't have to pray out loud. You don't have to pray in front of others. You don't have to tell anyone else that you pray.

But if you don't, you're missing out. Big time. We all have the audience. He's there all the time just waiting for a relationship. You win everytime you go to Him in prayer. God's not on the other end thinking, "Boy, that was a stupid prayer." He's the great encourager, the God of second and third and almost ad infinitum chances.

Pray for others; pray for yourself. Be specific. Otherwise, how do you know if He answered your prayers? Pray often. Give thanks. Worship Him. Tell Him all.

And then stop and listen. It may take awhile. But you will get an answer. Not a loud voice, in fact I've never heard Him in an audible voice, but I've heard Him. He's directed me.

Where to start? Jesus tells us how we are to pray and He cites The Lord's Prayer. If you don't know it all, just say as much as you do. And go from there.

I'm praying for anyone who reads this entry to strengthen his/her pray life. Prayer is an enormous outlet. An enormous relief. An enormous comfort.