I HATE IT WHEN THAT HAPPENS

When your heart gets pulled out. From the back. When she's holding it in her hands. As you walk away.

Plus, she keeps the ring. What's up with that? And, by the way, where is she going with the heart? I mean besides the opposite way.

Will she put it away for safe keeping? Maybe add to her other hearts from years, months, or even weeks past.

Or have I misinterpreted the entire scene? Is it her own heart she's holding? Before it breaks? Did she literally throw herself, heart included at him and he rejected her? Is his walk, one of coolness rather than rejection?

He's not looking back after all. But is she?

Lou Rawls sang of "love is a hurtin' thing". Had he been British he might have added " a bloody hurtin' thing".

But we still wouldn't know who suffered the wound.

BRAGGADOCIO

If you've read this before or heard this story before, just rack it up to my advanced age where I re-tell stories simply because I can't recall having told them before. It's a good thing I don't lie or embellish too much.

We met a PhD at church Sunday, introduced to us by one of our neighbors who correctly called my wife by her given name, Caroline. As soon as he met her and shook her hand he called her Carolyn. Now, there's nothing wrong with the name Carolyn. Except that is not her name. And it's a sore spot with her.

It reminded me of a two-week class I had as a grad student. Elementary Education Principalship, I guess was the title. We met for 4 hour sessions for two weeks and concluded with a dinner at the Prof's house. It was a rather small group, maybe 15-18 with a lot of discussion and a final paper. Being an English major, it suited me just fine.

Until we got to his house and I was introduced to his wife as "Ned". I knew I was toast. I knew I had not impressed him much if he didn't know my name after two weeks and 40 hours. I flashed back to my undergrad days at Illinois State when my Anthropology Prof acted puzzled by my identity and existence when handing back our mid-terms.

I was correct in my assertion. I received a B, a good grade, but not one that I wanted nor expected from that class. The only other B I got in any grad school work I embraced because it was in an English class that I was lost in from day one. Swinburne? Who the heck was that English poet anyhow? And I was to know all about him? I didn't. But took my "good grade" and gladly left Dr. Benzinger's class.

That's ok though. I would have been a lousy grade school Principal anyhow. I would have been a lousy high school one, too. In fact, I wasn't very good as a department chairman. Come to think of it, I probably deserved more B's and fewer A's.

But at least I could pronounce people's names.

BITS AND PIECES

Isn't that a beautiful ring? That's what most tell you they play the game for. Liars!

Man, I hate bargaining and unions and owners=s and administrators and haggling. We did that for my career in education and all it did was infuriate and demoralize. Once again the NFL is at it.

Billionaires vs millionaires. It sickens me to see them both ruin a great thing. I know baseball fans that haven't attended or given a hoot about baseball since the strike in 1994. These were not casual fans either. They had just had enough.

I'm far from being there. But I'm not reading any articles on how the negotiations are going. I'm not reading about how STL phenom, Sam Bradford is leading the team in unofficial conditioning and practice and teaching the playbook. I'm listening a little.

So, yes, I have interest. But it's waning. And I've been a fan for a long, long time. I still remember when at age 8 I heard the following teams names: Chicago Cardinals. What? The Cardinals are in St. Louis, I thought. The San Fransisco 49-ers. Like the Gold Rush we studied about in school. The Green Bay Packers. What's a Packer? The only packing I knew was clothes. I had no clue where Green Bay was, though I thought it sounded cool. (I can even tell you where I was--Richie Archer's backyard, our sandlot.) The Baltimore Colts and Unitas. Another cool team and player name.

But I can tell you one thing: when I've had enough, I've had enough. It happened to me in tennis, as a player and as a fan, but that's fodder for another blog entry. But to the NFL-ers, I'd say, just get her done. And darned soon.

LOOK AT THAT HAT

Whoever Julie Benz is, she looks great in that Derby hat. The bow tied guy next to her doesn't.

One of the first times I was in Kentucky as an adult, I was astonished at the beautiful women I encountered at a mall. I seriously wondered if there was a beauty contest that weekend. That's how good they looked.

But old time Derby goers who attend the Kentucky social event of the year must marvel at the ladies' hats. Along with the beautiful horses and atmosphere.

What I've found about womens' and mens' hats for that matter is that if a gal or guy looks good in a hat, then they also look good hatless. Some of the stupid looking hats draw attention like the stupid looking sports coats that one college basketball announcer wears. Maybe that was their purpose all along.

When I was a wee one, my favorite hat was a Davey Crockett coonskin hat complete with tail. On a trip to Florida when our son was about 4, I continued the tradition by purchasing him one at a gas station. He, too, was somewhat enamored with it, wearing it on two Halloweens in a row--one as Crockett: one as Daniel Boone.

While we both looked pretty dashing in our hats, we couldn't compare to some of the beauties spotted at the Kentucky Derby. To this day, I know neither of us has tried a mint julep either. After a few of those, maybe none of the hats there look stupid.

BLAH, BLAH, BLAH

I'm really tempted to blast the apocalyptic prediction from a California prophet (can you say oxymoron?) that did not take place on May 21 as predicted.

Harold Camping has never proven himself to be a modern day prophet. Isaiah, for instance, accurately predicted short term events, long range events, and the end of time events. He was proven correct on the two that have passed and I'm banking on his being 100% correct on the third.

Check it out. It's all in the Old Testament book of Isaiah, sometimes called the Fifth Gospel. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John being the other four from the New Testament. Not only did he prophesy the name and events of Cyrus, 180 years before he was born, Isaiah gave astonishingly accurate details of the coming of Messiah and how He would be crucified 800 years later.

Camping's most famous prediction before yesterday's Judgment Day error was a similar prediction and error in 1994. Prophets don't make mistakes. False teachers do. Including the Mayans. They may have built great civilizations, but if the world does end in 2012 as their calendars predict, then it will be by coincidence and not prophesy. Matthew 24:36 should put an end to speculating the hour for the Rapture to occur.

But, you know what? If it caused people to focus, even ever so briefly on eternity, then I think it was worth it. It's far too easy to live in today's culture and not invest time for the future. And the worst case scenario for believers is fabulous; if the Rapture occurred yesterday, we would have gotten to see Jesus.