on winged feet

I got a scare the other day. I received a call from my sis informing me that there had been a recall of my kids gag teeth they've been wearing off and on for the last two months. It appears there’s some lead in the little chompers. Alrighty, then. MADE IN CHINA..with a little surprise. It’s a pretty sad commentary these days regarding the toy situation coming out of that country. Good grief. First, our beloved red guy, Elmo, is poisoned and now this? It reminds me of the “Bag of Glass” SNL skit with Akroyd as the evil toy maker. Bergen held it together...how, I do not know. A classic, that one was. Anyhoo, I promptly retrieved the said toxin, bagged it three times and tossed it into the trash. It all worked out a-okay though after some frantic googling..and ended up not being the brand their Aunty D. had bought for them, but another. That’s what I get, I guess, for making fun of my Southern ancestor’s rotten teeth.

Speaking of China and their atrocious human rights record, Mama has tried her very best to boycott this 29th Olympiad, but alas, it didn’t happen. I caved. I mean, not one but two gals with crow’s feet nabbing those two beautiful hunks o’ silver...one of them over 40 and a new mom even??? Come on. Seeing how good Dara looked in that swimming suit though put me in a three day depression. “Aw, honey, relax. Just watch it with me. It’s about the athletes. It’s history..their history”, said my hubby. And so I did and so I have for the last two weeks. Except fencing. It freaks me out. I got poked in the boob by a big doofus in acting school twenty-odd years ago and have never been the same. The gymnastics used to be a must-see for me but it’s getting crazier with each passing Games as the girls are getting thinner and younger. The IOC better check those passports again for some white out. And Karolyi’s right. The scoring is outrageous and corrupt. The diving, I j'adore, but I miss my Mr. Louganis. Too bad he's 50 and and doing dog shows now. Oh, well, ya can't do 2 1/2 reverse pikes, bust your head on the board and then go right back up the ladder to earn the gold forever. And Phelps..who doesn't dig on the way that turned out? A tall drink of water who noshes on 10,000 cals a day. Good Lord, his poor mom probably had to get a second job for all her trips to Vons.

While kicking back and surfing around last night though, I came upon my fave event...Track and Field. Yep, while I was washing a jumbo plate of pasta down my goozle with a tasty glass of vino, the gorgeous Ms. Sanja Richards was workin’ the semis like nobody’s business. Well, I take that back. She’s so good that she really doesn’t even have to try until the finals. That tracking shot they have along side of the competitors is spectacular. It still blows me away to see their speed, their perfection. My oldest rug rat was like..”Wow, Mom, those ladies can really run fast, huh? I bet I can do that someday”. Okay, honey, you grow up and do just that and get that 10 mill a year endorsement deal and then take good care of your old, wrinkled mama...sounds fine by me! And don’t even get me going on the hurdles. They always blow my mind. I fell on my arse out in the garage the other day when my purse got stuck on a chair leg that was sticking out, leaving the wall awash in Dasani and my Motorola in five easy pieces. Yes, there is no doubt about it, Mama is a klutz, but the pink plastic Wal-Mart car that was lodged in between my arch and flip flop didn’t help matters much. Nah, these kids are so agile and monstrously fit that every 27 feet or so, they jump almost three feet high over a piece of wood, while running full tilt, thank you very much. No less than ten times. Last night I counted the strides in all those 27 foot stretches..only 6. That’s 4 and a half feet with every push! No wonder they have the thighs of a God. Yep, those are the kind of weird things I think about at night while I’m sitting on my fat keister gobbling down carbs. And oh, yeah, before I close...exciting Olympic news here on the Ozark front...we have a local middle school teacher who got to jet off and compete in the Beijing Games, much to the awe and amazement of her students, I’m sure. Talk about a role model. She didn’t medal, placed 8th. I guess hoisting yourself 14 feet and eleven inches in the air on a stick doesn’t get ya the gold. Go figure. Yee-haw nevertheless! You go girl!
And so it goes...I’m hooked and can’t wait to tune in tonight and see the gals slam it in the Bird’s Nest. However, I think we’ll all be waiting for quite awhile to see China deliver in the free speech, self-determination and due process department. "And besides," says my husband, "...their Hillbilly Teeth are killing our children”.


P.S.) Happy birthday & thanks, Daddy, for creating magic with us and for us as another summer comes to a close. Thank you, friends, for making it possible.

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the witness

She stood just 50 yards from our sixteenth President as he delivered a two minute speech that would become one of the finest in our nation’s history. She watched 50,000 men take their last breath and is only one of four that remains today. If you climbed to the top of her branches over a century ago, you could have seen all the way to the Round Tops, witnessing a bloody charge that produced 3900 tombstones...15% of those are nameless, known only by their God and the widows that waited in vain.

For those few days in July of 1863, this particular honey locust stood stalwart in Gettysburg while everything around her swirled. With bullets chipping away at her bark, she stayed rooted. Unshakable. And for the last 145 years has continued to guard over what has now become a memorial to 6000 of our war dead and provide shade to the living who come to visit there...until last Thursday. It was then, in the late afternoon, that the clouds rolled into Adams County and the wind took her away. It is Native American legend that the Thunder Spirit was only able to recognize his son because of his ability to sit comfortably among the thorns of this deciduous tree. Underneath that protective armor though, she had a sweet side, yielding pods that held an edible pulp for all kinds of critters and was even transformed into a mean glass of brew for those who lived in this country long before we came along. Her delicate fragrant flower bejeweled the countryside just before the heat of summer and her lacy canopy is one of the few that allowed the grass to grow at her base, providing a soft spot for one to gaze up at the dappled light that bathed her limbs and ponder what it might be like to live a life so long, surrounded by so many changes, so much history...or perhaps just to quietly reflect on the sorrow and sacrifice of a dying soldier. She's a tough one alright, who tolerates drought and can grow in about any kind of soil. And although this storm destroyed 80% of the body of this remarkable tree, she is still alive, leaving the arborists to decide what to do with the humble remains of this amazing piece of timber.

I think her attributes, her tenacity, embody the human spirit. I think this old tree is a symbol for everything that Mr. Lincoln spoke of on that cool, cloudy somber day...the equality of all, the freedom that is essential for our hearts to sing and our dreams to manifest and more importantly, the unification that is necessary for us to successfully move forward as a people, a government, a nation, a globe..a species..as an integral part of this vast and majestic universe. I would like to see them take every one of those branches and dole them out to our country’s great artists so as to create their own individual visions of what honor, courage, liberty and hangin' there is all about...to serve as a reminder of the fragility of life, the unlimited power of faith within it and the ability to hold fast to our truth, our ideals, no matter how hairy it gets.

come again?