WELL, IT CERTAINLY IS SOMETHING TO SNEEZE AT

When such a sneeze blows your nose off.

You feel the build up. Deep, almost under your cheek bone. Pressure building. And building. There's no way of snuffing it out. No way to stop the rush once it's begun.

Putting a finger vertically below your nostrils would only serve to make you look foolish. You would, too, if you thought you were alone. But it wouldn't help.

"Look at the sun; look at the sun," some would say to suppress it. But you're afraid that might just make it move through the tubes quicker. You don't want that pain. We all like to put off unpleasantries as long as possible.

"Someone say 'achoo'", some other one offers. "Gesundheit," another helper offers. Both to try to quash the sneeze before fruition.

But not this sneeze. The mother of all sneezes. You might as well try to stop the earth from rotating.

You give in. You help by allowing your voice to enhance the act. You certainly don't want to hold it back and worry that it might leave you deafened as your oldest aunt. So you go with it.

Explosion. A Fourth of July outburst. A spray of sinus sinews slices the air. You're afraid to look to see if someone stole your nose like when you were a child and the adult or older kid held the tip of his thumb to show you your nose. You wanted a mirror after you felt your face for assurance. It's that same thing now.

Did I just blow my nose off?

Thankfully not. Just a little brain dust raining down.

SYMBOLISM

I like the photo on the left. Of course, its subject is golf. What's there not to like about a sport that gets you outdoors, surrounds you with natural (and not so natural) beauty, allows you to participate when other sports have left you behind, and encourages betting, drinking and carousing? Ok, I wasn't serious about the last three. I could have added smoking a big old cigar. That's the one that got me to drop out of league play twelve years ago. So that must be pretty serious if the other three didn't get me to stop playing.

But once again, I'm sidetracked. That happens to me more all the time. I especially like it when I go into another room or open a drawer and wonder what I was doing there or looking for. And glasses. Thank goodness, after a couple of laser eye surgeries, I don't have to fool with them. Except for sunglasses which I'm constantly misplacing.

The picture is not about that either. Plus, I've run out of other rabbit trails, so if I go back to the title; this entry is about symbolism. I can't begin to understand the implications from the picture. Oh, losing one's head is there, I guess. But he looks pretty happy to me to having lost it. Close to the hole? With a little guy sticking something in his back? Poke him--he's done, I guess.

Maybe it is his father who has pushed him so much that the kid rebelled. Who could know?

And then the others. The Jack-in-the-Box guy. The cart in the distance. They all must stand for something. But I'm as lost here as I was in Prof. Benzinger's class when he asked me, grad student in a predominantly undergrad 400- level class, to explain the poet Swinburne.

I especially liked it when teachers explained symbolism and acted as if everyone should see it and if you didn't then something was wrong with you. As an undistinguished writer, and long time student, I know that sometimes a rose is just as rose is just... Or in the case of the photo a smiling head near a golf hole is just a smiling head near a golf hole..

FLAGS--FOR THE YOUNG AND OLD

I wonder why that is. It seems to me the young and the old love flying flags. The mids don't much care for showing their patriotism. So, Cynical Reader questions, does flying the flag show one is patriotic?

I guess it does. How else? By burning Qurans? By obeying laws? By supporting whoever is in office? By buying bonds? By saving? By enlisting?

Some are are some aren't. But I think "Love it or Leave It," misses the boat. Loving one's country may mean to work hard to alter in some cases. Webster's Random House gives as its second definition of a patriot "a person who regards himself/herself as a defender of individual rights, against presumed interference by the federal government".

That says a lot. It says to me that our current White House occupant is not a patriot. At least there can be no denying about the second half of the definition. Having voiced that opinion, am I being unpatriotic? Should I "leave it", or should I try to alter? Should I call representatives and voice displeasure with, for instance the ObamaCare bill (I did)? Should I pray for the President? (I do)

I'm not real sure what a patriot is after all. But I know I've always loved my country. I have traveled to 62 other countries and found nothing approximating the USA.

I know I haven't always been proud of my country (the Viet Nam years, the Clinton/Gore years, our current leadership in the Senate, House, and Oval Office), but I also know I've never been outspoken against our country or its leaders when I've been overseas, like the 2 Presidents I mentioned in the previous sentence.

As I said, I'm puzzled. But as the song goes, "at least I know I'm free". For the time being.

REFLECTION ON NAIVETE

The picture taken a Bar Harbour, Maine, where we visited a few late summers ago combined with a comment from a long time friend wishing me a happy birthday yesterday prodded the old memory to reflect.

I think I was the most naive or to be honest the stupidest kid in my first grade class.

After having a spent a year at Kox Kiddie Kollege (yes it's that old), I entered first grade without any kindergarten. But back then kindergarten was a half-day option. So I started school at Field (city) School with my best friend in my class. I don't recall knowing any others. Including the teacher.

Her name was Imogene Hilliard, wife of long time grade school superintendent who at that time was a grade six teacher/coach at another school. She kept referring to herself in the third person. "Mrs. Hilliard doesn't like for students to talk in class." I didn't know she was Mrs. Hilliard. But I knew when Mrs. Hilliard got there, she didn't like students to talk.

I don't know who the heck I thought she was. Although I had no basis for knowing about substitute teachers, I just thought she was a fill-in. I didn't ever hear a student say, Mrs. Hilliard. My parents never called her by name.

If someone asked who my teacher was, I would say Mrs. Hilliard. But I never added, "whenever she shows up."

Honest to Pete, as long time friend and fellow teacher Jim Miller would say, I think it was October when it dawned on me that she was the Mrs. Hilliard.

And that's why I say I was the dumbest first grader in that class.

SEEN YOURS

Having taught high school seniors for the majority of my teaching career, I was always partial to that class. Pep assembly contests pitted class warfare. When I was asked to be one of the judges, I was highly impartial, but usually the seniors or Seen Yours won anyhow. Something about being more comfortable, bigger, rulers.

I think I'm a Seen Your today. Seen Your Citizen, that is. Sometimes senior citizens are 55, for instance when I watched The American last night, I paid senior citizen price of $6.50 rather than $9.50. And my birthday was hours away. Other times I've seen or heard it be 65.

Well, today I'm 62. And, quite frankly, struggling a little with it. I'm now old enough for Social Security. It doesn't seem that long ago when I applied for my Social Security Card . The office was located where the Tri-County building now sits. I filled out the paper work from Mrs. Caroline Wagner, whose daughters were good friends. From 16 to 62 in a heartbeat. Or a few. "Whoosh and you've been a lawyer for 40 years and eaten 10,000 meals with the woman across the table from you," Wilder said in Our Town, and I'll be damned if he isn't right. It flies.

So if you're a reader, feel free to lift a glass of your favorite beverage to the TQ Man for reaching a milestone, that of senior citizenship. Long may I stick around!

CARDINAL NATION


The first to have their own nation as I recall. Then there was Raider Nation, Red Sox Nation, Podunk Nation. Which means, I guess, that our fantasy baseball league is a nation. After all, we've had several owners since the 1990 inception.

But this entry is a blog of definition. Inspired by a St. Louisian who for some reason detests hometown sports teams. He belittled Cardinal fans for booing an opposing player instead of booing the home team. Here, among other things, is what he doesn't know.

Cardinal fans are the best in baseball. Ask almost any former player. Ask almost any big leaguer who ever played as a visitor in St. Louis. The fans know baseball. They love the sport. They appreciate good, hard play.

The Cardinals got their nation because of reputation, because of geography, and because of success. The reputation may just begin with what many have called the best uniform in baseball--the birds on the bat. It's simply easily identifiable. From the uniform to the way they treat visiting fans, they're class. Not like the fans in Chicago or San Diego. Or, I expect, Philadelphia, but while I've only driven by both Philly stadiums, I've never attended a game there. The proximity of St. Louis added to the nation. For many years, it was the most western city to have a big league team. There are still fans of Cardinal nation as a result.

Many of those fans raised their children to be Cardinal fans. And their children's children. In our family, we're 4th generation. That's a long time. But I wouldn't consider rooting for another team, even though I'm nearing my 10th year in Arizona. (Oh sure, I enjoyed the 2001 Diamondbacks championship, but I've been to playoff games in AZ when they played the Cardinals and, of course, I cheered on the team from St. Louis and would have much preferred they won the title). That's what it means to be a Cardinal fan. To celebrate their 10 World Titles, more than any other team save the Yankees.

Rather than respond to my St. Lou friend who is a Braves fan, I chose a larger audience. My reader(s). It would have been easy to remind him of the Braves, famous for choking so many years when the won 15 division titles and only 1 World Series with Maddux, Glavine, Smoltz, et. al. Or how the offensive tomahawk chop was stolen from FSU. Or how they haven't been able to sell out their playoff games for the last few years that they made the playoffs. But I'm probably not going to change his mind anymore than I could change a follower of Barry Obama by pointing out what a miserable job he's doing in the White House.

If Cardinal nation can be criticized for anything, it would be that they are so loyal that perhaps they just root for laundry. Whoever wears the Cards' uniform is held in esteem. If the Cardinals traded their entire team to the Cubs, then Cardinal fans would cheer for the Cardinals. The difference: they would also cheer for ex-Cardinals.

Cardinal Nation--long may it last!

IT'S STILL A LEANER

We went to Pisa this Summer. Along with lots of other places in Italy: Rome, where we went on a death march for 40 minutes in the city in 103 degrees plus humidity; to Florence where we got an in-depth lecture about Michelangelo's David; to Sorrento where we had an 8-course meal then dessert at the owner of the restaurant's sister's house; to Capri, one of my favorite places in the whole world; to Venice, another place I really like (they have a lot of pride, refusing to be called Italians, the citizens will remind you that they are Venetians); to Portofino with great views and great heat/humidity; and a few other places whose names escape me right now.

But Pisa. I'd heard much about the Leaning Tower. I'd heard it was not very tall at all. It is. I had also pictured it as being alone. It isn't. Which I think helps to get the prospective of how much it leans. At least the bottom 3-5 stories. Then it straightens out. I also thought we would climb it or at least go part way up. We couldn't. They only allow 15 people per climb, and since we were there on a Saturday, we had no chance. But I thought we might go up a few flights. No.

They could straighten it, but why? They'd lose almost 1 million visitors per year, because who would want to see the Straight Tower Which Once Leaned of Pisa?

It looks no different today than from the 1924 photo, but then why should it? It stands there by the Cathedral, Baptistery, and Cemetery. Leaning.

I tried to stand at an angle to catch me trying to prop it up. I haven't had a chance to see the picture yet, but I'm sure if it turns out, it won't be a collectors' item. I k now my idea was not an original, though Pisa is.