taking a stand

Dagnabbit.
As much as I have enjoyed going to the baseball games these past two decades, and as much as I have enjoyed cheering for the Sand Gnats alongside Mister Willie, I don't know that I'm going to be as devoted for these new folks.
Honestly.
They've recently posted the results of their search for a new team name, as 'Sand Gnats' no longer exists.

Savannah Anchors
Savannah Ports
Savannah Seagulls
Savannah Bananas
Savannah Party Animals

Seriously? These were the "top five" gleaned from "over 1000 suggestions" from baseball fans???
Not Savannah Swarm (suggested by Sherry)? That would have been a very nice homage to the twenty years with the Sand Gnats.
Not Savannah Shamrocks (suggested by Jim C)? That would have pointed to our fine Irish heritage.
Not Savannah Sparrows (my suggestion)? That would have brought attention to the little birds first found here, but which are now all over the Southeast.
Not Daffin Ducks (suggested by Lee M)? Not only would that refer to the park where the stadium is located, but it also brings to mind that funny cartoon character.

I swear, right here and now, I will not go to the games if "Party Animals" is chosen.
I will not.

Fans First Entertainment, also known as Savannah Baseball 2016, supposedly embrace the philosophy of a fun environment for fans of all ages. How much fun could it be for children if they're amongst a horde of screaming drunks at a game? And you know that will be the case if "Party Animals" becomes the team's name.
It'll be 'Drunk Night', aka 'Thirsty Thursday', at every game.
Those were the night games I opted to miss.
I already have alcoholics in my family, thanks, and I'm willing to bet most other folks do, too.
I choose to not watch other drunks.
What say you?

farewell to royalty

You can take all the
Harry Potters
with their lightning bolts
o'er their brows,
Put them all in
one room together
and they would have less
power than her.

She was sweeter than
purest honey,
Now she's an angel
of the first degree,
Yes, she was sweeter,
sweeter
than purest honey,
Sweeter than honey,
oh yes,
from the bee.

Honestly, I think Van Morrison would not mind one whit my taking inspiration for the above poetry from his lyrics for "Tupelo Honey".
Especially when such poetry is in memory of the Contessa.
Contessa is now stardust.
I hope the physicist will take solace from that.
I have spent part of the last two days with him.
Contessa died on Saturday afternoon, with her energy ebbing away as the daylight turned to dusk.
He called me on Sunday evening.
No, let me emphasize that.
He called me on Sunday evening.
The man whose every communique has been by text or email called.
Knowing it was his birthday, I sang the tune, then said hello. He wanted to ask a favor of me, he said, his voice not quite right. Would I be able to take him to Fox & Weeks tomorrow (Monday)? Contessa had died and he wanted to take her there for cremation.
Shock.
Definite shock.
For him.
For me.
I had known 'Tess had a stroke last fall, but she had recovered.
I knew her hyperthyroidism had worsened and the bfe was having trouble getting any weight on her slight frame, but that seemed to be a controllable issue.
No, it was Chloe that was the bigger concern, always, with her tumor in her peritoneal cavity. Chloe was the one that had me holding my breath in summer of 2013 when I was tending the girls.
Chloe's health was the reason I had researched pet cremation two years ago. I knew the folks at Tail Spin through First City Network, so trusted their recommendation. The two gentlemen I spoke to at Fox & Weeks about their Pets at Peace were very understanding and gave me brochures for the bfe.
Now, two years later, he had pulled them out for use. For the other cat.
For Contessa.
The cat that whispered to me.
The blue tortoise with the peach blur that controlled the radio waves to make sure I came to see her.
The kitteh that kidnapped my cooler.
The cat-dog who found my hands and my lap to be purr-fect for her.
(Sigh.)
Now, her ashes are in a cloth bag in a Cherry-hued, multi-tone, wooden, Rainbow Bridge urn.
At least I was able to make sure she made it home safely, without the bfe having to endure questions from strangers on the bus about the Pets at Peace bag and its contents.
I know he can handle the ride alone just fine. Time amongst strangers provides a needed breathing period during emotionally-charged times.
But if he had the urn and Contessa with him, he would have to explain the loss, possibly over and over.
I know how hard loss is.
I hope I was able to soften that loss a little for him.

I sure am going to miss that sweet, loving cat.

do ghosts have safe sex?

Funny question, right?
And yet, that was one of the odd topics of discussion last night.

Where were you???

I was actually at a bar, downtown -

Well, that explains it right there -

You should let me finish, please.

Okay, but you know what folks will think when you start out with 'at a bar'.

True, but allow me to clarify. It was after the screening of "Serenity" at the Trustees last night, as part of a fundraiser for a local musician who needs a kidney transplant.

Oh. That must be hard on you, having already watched Sam Johnson die while waiting for a kidney.

I must admit, I have been distancing myself from the events hosted for Keith. It isn't that I don't know him, because, well, you would be hard-pressed to find someone active in the music or downtown scenes who don't know him or know of him. I've danced to the music of his various bands for some few years now.
The fundraisers, especially those involving local bands, also remind me of the failed attempt we had at one of the bars. The Mercury Lounge, one of Sam's favorites, had agreed to host Samapalooza, with a long list of bands to play the event. Jim Reed even wrote about it in the local entertainment paper. But the work to organize and promote the event was done by Jeff and I, Wendy and Mike, and Annie. Oh, and Sam, who faithfully wrote about in his "I need a kidney" blog.
April 2, 2005, arrived. We were all there, ready to go! We even had some really great prizes to raffle off! The bands showed up when they were supposed to and the music was great!
But the bar changed how things were to be done. No cover charges were to be charged for the event. (They were afraid their regulars wouldn't come off the $5 for entrance.) The raffle tickets sold would be good for all drawings, all day, not sold from one drawing to another.
What difference did that make? Well, folks came in for free, spent a dollar for a raffle ticket, then took up room at the bar all day long. Not only did that limit the funds to be made, but it also limited the turnover of the crowd, what with Fire Marshal codes and all that.
The Mercury Lounge really let us down.
We barely cleared $1000, after expenses.
We had more fundraisers, of course. The quest was to hit $5000, which would then merit a matching grant by the Georgia Transplant Foundation.
By the end of May, 2005, we were about 60% to that goal.
The fundraiser at another drinking establishment, The Bar Bar, fell through, after being rescheduled twice. That was a shame, as Sam would have been the DJ that night and could have truly made 'The Big Score', as he called it.
The one on Flag Day, Sam's 39th birthday, was a lot of fun, but didn't raise much. The Sand Gnats were having a promotion which was a take-off on the tv show, "Survivor", and we sold tickets for the game. Sam was selected to throw out the first pitch for the Savannah Sand Gnats and sat with folks he didn't see often. To me, that was more of a success than anything we had done at the bars.
Oh, and lest I forget, there was the one at Steed's for his last birthday. That one was coupled with karaoke and requests - with Sam singing songs for cash. We all had a blast and he had pocket money - and lots of birthday wishes! - for his 42nd birthday.
I consider that a success, too.
Now, it's a new day and I guess I'm protecting myself, and my heart, by keeping Jim Reed's fundraisers for Keith at arm's length.

Totally understandable.

Tonight was the second of two screenings at the Trustees, both to benefit Keith. Jim, and his Psychotronic Film Society of Savannah, had wagered all they had on this venture. I had worked as an usher at the Lucas and missed about the first 45 minutes of the Nathan Fillion film tonight. I don't know, maybe I didn't miss that much, as I know there was a raffle beforehand. I came in when the space battle was going hot and heavy.
Good timing!

Most excellent! I know how you enjoy those. (smile)

I do! It was a really good action flick, too. I'd like to see the whole thing some time.
Meanwhile, back to the present. I have a Pink Flamingo fundraiser for JinHi to get to and this post is taking longer than expected.

Well, that's because you started talking about Sam...

Yes, I did, and glad of it.
Anywho, I knew the peace Guy was in town and at the Trustees, so I waited out front. Soon enough, I was joined by him, Joe Buttner of New Jersey, Carolyn, Teri, and Jim. We all walked over to the Irish bar and settled into a booth to talk of all manner of things. Devil dogs, queer versus gay versus homosexual, ICE, oral and anal sex as contraceptives, and ghosts.
Those topics just riffed right off of each other, being revisited a time or two and even merged.

Well, what would you expect, after folks started drinking?

Hold up, hoss, neither Carolyn nor I were drinking. Everyone else had a beer or two over the two hours we were there. And most of the talking was between me and Jim. I certainly realized during our talks that he and I are from different generations.
Much of the time, I can neglect that age gap.

Even so, you had a good mix of ages there last night.

We did! No one under forty, but that's okay.
You know what? I think I'm done here. I had thought I was going to expound upon ethereal spirits, but maybe some other time.
(smile)
Off to see JinHi about some birds!
Then, I'm going to treat myself to a free jazz concert, the first in months. Maybe I'll even run into those same ladies again!
Wish me luck!

Good luck, dear! Enjoy the sunshine!

that bird is not with those others

The title is a line I wrote on my phone's draft pad some time ago. I was looking at the sky, as I do, and noticed some birds. There was a group that were obviously traveling together, in a pretty tight formation. Then, there was this other lone bird, winging in the opposite direction.
At the time, I felt a kinship with that solo flyer.
I would even venture to say I've identified with that bird for most of my life.
Not that that is a bad thing!
(smile)
When I found the following card, I thought it perfect as a return note for my youngest brother's latest note.
Trust me, it really is!

Dearest Tony,

That bird is not like those others.
You know, that bird in the middle. His necktie stripe is a bit crooked and that's why the other two are looking at him.
Hahaha!

I really like the Halloween card! I take it that someone there is the artist? William Vito?
Tweety with the cat tail over his arm was a perfect tie-in with a movie I saw at the Savannah Film Festival, about a boy who had to kill cats in the barn and collect their tails for proof. Pretty gruesome stuff, but i guess that's life on a farm.
Your card was waiting in my mailbox when I got home from that movie. Nice coincidence!

The weather has cooled off again, but i have hopes it'll find its way back to warm in just a few days.

I can't believe it's only two more weeks until i see you for a belated birthday! Would Saturday or Sunday be better?

with my love!

twick or tweat!

Darkness Falls throughout the land,

The bewitching hour is close at hand.

Ghosts and Goblins, Witches and Spooks,

Good guys and Bad guys, Clowns and Kooks,

And some kind of thing you've Never Seen

Will be coming to Visit you on Halloween!

Twick or Tweat!

- William Vito, artist

Tony added:
Thinking of you today and every day.
Love ya lots!
God bless you and peace be with you.

just be yourself

I have to share "The Saint of Dry Creek".

Without a doubt, this is the best parenting video ever.

Ever.

The message?

Just be yourself.

Don't worry about what anyone else thinks.

Don't worry about what anyone else says.

Just be yourself.

it's a long, long way to tipperary

At the Summer Olympics in Mexico City, three young men choose to use their few minutes of fame to make a stand for human rights.
It was October 16th of 1968.
It was more than a century after the US Civil War had ended.
It was twenty years after the United Nations' Universal Declaration of Human Rights had been adopted. In that document, the first Article stated:

All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.

Tommie Smith, Peter Norman, and John Carlos had taken the top honors in the Men's 200-meter race, winning gold, silver, and bronze medals, respectively.
The two Americans had already made plans to bring attention to the fight against discrimination in the United States.
The Australian decided that very day to join them, in his stand against discrimination in the world.
The two Americans were both members of the Olympic Project for Human Rights, a primarily black organization. They each brought a pair of black gloves with them to Mexico and wore OPHR badges for human rights. They had determined before leaving for the Olympics that if one of them won, that one would don a pair of black gloves and raise his hands in the air, as a salute of solidarity with those fighting for human rights in general and black rights in particular.
Amazingly, they both won, but John had forgotten to bring his pair of gloves.
The Australian suggested they each wear one of the gloves. Hence, in the photo, Tommie, aged 24, is raising a black-gloved right fist and John, aged 23, holds up a black-gloved left fist.
No glove was available for Peter, aged 26.
Then again, he had known nothing of their plans to stage a protest for human rights. They only told him after the race, when he had placed second and would be joining them on the medal podium for the Olympic medals ceremony.
However, when they did tell him, he made an instant choice to support their actions. He also chose to wear the OPHR badge on his jacket. When he saw it on one of the American rowers, Paul Hoffman, and asked for it, he had been given that man's badge to wear.
So, there's the scene.
Three young men with bright futures, in a time of change, advocating for a brighter future for all mankind.
Three young men who faced immediate, and lasting, repercussions for that moment of brave conviction.

That was almost sixty years ago.

My thanks to my Grandpa for making sure my mind was open to all possibilities.
His certainly was.
Pretty amazing for a white, middle-aged, Southern Baptist, former traveling minister, writing editorials and living in the small town of Waycross, GA, in the 1970's.
I wonder what he thought of that photo.
I truly wish he and I could have one of our debates about the topic.
He was a man decades ahead of his times, but well aware of how slowly change actually occurs.
Most folks think that just enacting a law signals the change has been finalized.
Not hardly.
Change occurs one person at a time.
One
person
at a time.
Regardless of what the law may or may not say, regardless of a country's official stance, that fact holds true.
Change occurs one person at a time.
That truth is the reason that it takes several generations - and sometimes longer - for a change to become accepted as "standard", as "the rule", by the majority of society.
Change occurs one person at a time.
As I said earlier, it is our responsibility to continue the battle for human rights for all people.
One person at a time.