Teaching the Kid the Rules of the Road

It happened one afternoon when I was a teenager a few months away from receiving my coveted driver’s license. On that particular day, I was perched in the front seat next to one of my friends in a truck driven by his father. We came to a stop sign and my friend’s dad never slowed down but kept on truckin’ right past the sign. The stunned look on my face begged an answer, so my friend quickly explained, “He doesn’t think that stop sign should be there.” Thus began one of my first informal training sessions in Driver’s Ed. It’s a wonder I ever survived to see high school graduation. Over the years I have developed my own philosophy of driving, which I am more than willing to share with my sons. My middle son recently completed Driver’s Education and for now, he’s my responsibility on the road as I ride along in the passenger’s seat. He’s extremely cautious, which is a positive, but also leads me to admonish him to “give it a little juice” from time to time- which does not go over well with Mom. But I feel like I’m doing a fine job instructing the chap. I have trained him to complete the following phrases: Dad: Know all the rules and assume everyone else . . . Son: Has forgotten them. Dad: Never text and drive but assume . . . Son: Everyone else is dumb enough to be texting and driving, especially teenagers like me. Dad: Never be an idiot behind the wheel, but assume . . . Son: Everyone else I meet on the road is an idiot. Dad: Never drink and drive, but assume . . . Son: Everyone else I meet on the road is drunk. Dad: If you ever drink and drive . . . Son: First you will take my license and then you will castrate me. (The first time I said that he ran to the dictionary to see what it meant.) I think kids these days have it a little easier than we did in my day when it comes to driving and such. We had to use either maps or some vague sense of direction to find our way. They have GPS. We had to turn the radio station with a knob while we were driving (not a good idea) and they can press one button and it goes straight to their favorite tunes. They have cruise control and we had a sore right foot. They have automatic transmissions where we had to learn to operate a clutch and grind the gears. (But they can’t catch second gear like we did.) They have cellphones if their car breaks down. I had to walk two miles in the rain to a friend’s house to call home when the truck I was driving broke down. (Long story, one I still don’t like to mention to my dad.) Regardless, I’m proud of my middle son’s driving. He comes to a complete halt at stop signs (even if he doesn’t think they should be there) and obeys the speed limit obsessively. So forgive us if we’re a little tardy now and then. The kid is just being safe and assuming everyone else on the road is an idiot. Just like his old man taught him.

Time to Tune Out the Rhetoric

I don’t do politics in this column. And I certainly don’t endorse candidates in my 550- word-space each week. Not to say people won’t encourage me from time to time to speak on the issues. Take a stand and stick to it, they might say. I’m not afraid to take a stand on issues. But in case you haven’t noticed, my little column is best described as a humor/insight column that is sometimes lacking in both in the opinions of some. Even so, I admire people who take a stand and aren’t afraid to put their views out there for the inevitable criticism. People can talk all they want to about how our politicians in this country are crooked. Unfortunately, some deserve the label. But in general, I admire their bravery to stand up. If they stand up against their party occasionally, I respect them. If they go against popular opinion in the name of what is right, I applaud them. But if they spew rhetoric, debasing and personally vilifying everyone that disagrees with them, I am turned off. Speaking of turned off, that’s what I want to do to my television when the pundits all start talking at the same time and hurl insults and dirty names at each other. Seems many are incapable of carrying on a rational discussion. Turn on the tube and scan for ten minutes and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Take, for example, the Democrat Congresswoman who was shot in Arizona recently. Despite an outpouring of love and support from across the country, there are those who want to get their faces on TV and talk about how it’s her opponent’s party’s fault that she got shot because of the “atmosphere they have created” in this country. Here’s my opinion, for what it’s worth. The atmosphere created exists mainly in our government, not among the vast majority of Americans- who simply want positive and effective representation. Most of us red, white, and blue Americans admire people for their character, not for their political affiliation. But some of the pundits have created a situation where even politicians themselves are scared to compliment members of opposing parties for fear that it will give their opponent credibility as a human being. I don’t care whether Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords is a Democrat, Republican, Independent, or whatever. She’s an American. And she was doing her job representing and interacting with her constituents when she was shot. Unfortunately innocent others were hurt and several died. There are some out there who want to blame Republicans for the shooting as much as the lunatic who did it. And others would be irritated that by humanizing her and offering my deep respect for her- and by opining that the President gave a fine speech after the incident- that I am somehow advancing liberalism and harming conservative causes. If you adhere to either of these two opinions, I’m going to step out on a limb here and say that you are in the vast minority in this country. Most of us red-blooded Americans care about people more than we do parties. And we want all the rhetoric to cease so our representatives can get something done that will benefit all of us. That’s my stand and I’m sticking to it.

Some Things About Winter Weather are Predictable

The weather’s been misbehaving lately. I’m not complaining, mind you, because I enjoy me some winter wonderland weather as much as the next guy, as long as it’s gone by college baseball season. Some thoughts: Observation #1: The more snow, the more snow cream. I am currently enjoying my fourth batch of the stuff even at the moment. And better yet, the kids do the collecting so I have remained warm and toasty inside while they gather. I don’t know how fattening snow cream is, but at this particular moment, I don’t give a rip. Observation #2: Snow cream collecting requires more talent than it did before we got a dog. Flash’s “movements” are clearly visible in the snow (it seems I’m the only one grossed out by this) so the kids have to be reminded that the snow cream should be entirely vanilla with no lemon or chocolate flavor from outside mixed in. Observation #3: Video gaming systems are some of the absolute best things ever invented. Okay, I know we’re supposed to lament how the younger generation is going to the pits what with all the Playstation, Wii, and computer game junk these days. And snow days provide the perfect opportunity for the family to gather by the fireplace and read classic novels, discuss politics, and talk about our dreams for the future. But the reality is different for most of us. And the games can keep stuck-at-home school kids busy for hours at a time. I know this observation doesn’t get me Father of the Year, but would it help your opinion of me to know that I grab a control stick and play along sometimes? Observation #4: The older you get, the more you enjoy watching the snow more than playing in it. I can’t hurl snowballs with near as much accuracy and velocity as I used to so I stay inside. And in my younger days, I slid around in my truck in empty parking lots for a cheap thrill. I still give it a try now, but I’m way too careful for it to be any fun. Observation #5: The reporters and commentators on TV say the same stuff over and over every time there’s a winter weather outbreak. Example: Bob: Let’s check in with Jane out on I-99. Hey Jane. Jane: Hey, Bob, they’re gearing up out here. The city has 763 trucks rolling and officials say they’ve poured 43 billion tons of salt on the highways and byways in preparation for this storm. Bob: Thanks, Jane, and remember folks, the D.O.T. says not to get out on the road unless you absolutely have to. Here’s some footage of somebody who didn’t take that advice. Now, let’s check in with Bill. Bill: I’m here outside the supermarket, Bob, where the manager says it’s been a mad rush throughout the day as shoppers flock to the milk and bread sections. And I just left the hardware store where they now say they’ve run out of snow shovels, tire chains, sleds, and generators. Bob: Wow! That’s amazing, Bill. (No, what is amazing is that the same exact conversation as above has occurred sixty thousand times on TV since 1956.) Gotta go. Gotta finish my snow cream before it melts. (Vanilla only, no chocolate, please

Extended Football Season Bowling Me Over

As you may already know, my profession is that of a coach. This writing thing is a hobby of mine, therefore I have vowed not to turn this space in the paper into another sports column. But sometimes sports and life intersect, which is the case this time of year as it pertains to the college football bowl phenomenon. First let me say that I am a fan of college sports, football being right at the top of my list. And I’ve been to a bowl game before and loved it, so don’t say I’m sour about the whole deal. My purpose is not to criticize, but simply to make observations. Let’s take it from the top. TOO MANY MEN ON THE FIELD- My senior year of high school (1981-82), there were 15 bowl games (30 teams). Nowadays there are 35 bowl games, meaning 70 teams will play in a bowl and only 50 Division I teams will stay home for the holidays. You don’t even have to have a winning season to go bowling. Some teams finish 6-7 after losing a bowl game. DELAY OF GAME- Most teams finish in November but they don’t play a bowl game until several weeks later. The two teams in the championship game haven’t played since December 4 (37 days). Coaches like it because it gives them over five weeks of extra practice, but I bet the coach’s families don’t appreciate it so much. ILLEGAL SPREAD- The first of the 35 bowl games starts on December 18 and the last doesn’t end until January 10. That’s 24 days of bowl games. They used to all take place on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day. Now 29 bowl games are played on days other than January 1. Sports junkies love it, but it drives common housewives batty. And there may be a shortage of sports junkies because I noticed a lot of empty seats in the background at some of the bowl games. PERSONNEL FOUL- Coaches who are asked to depart at the end of the regular season are rarely invited to stick around the extra 4-5 weeks to coach in the bowl games, which leads to an interesting dilemma for some schools: Who coaches in the big game?- an irritated lame-duck coach, an auditioning assistant, or an incoming new coach whose name the players can’t even pronounce yet. MEDIA TIMEOUT- When I was growing up, the bowls had simple names, often involving a fruit such as the Peach Bowl or the Orange Bowl. Other plants like the Rose, Cotton, and Sugar were represented, too. Some of them are still around today, but you have to look pretty hard to find their names in the title due to all the sponsors. Did you see the Franklin American Mortgage Music City Bowl? It was a great game but try fitting all that on a t-shirt. OVERTIME- Even with the new BCS system (I’m nowhere near smart enough to figure it out), the national championship could still be decided the next day in the newspaper like it was in 2004 when the coaches selected one team to be champions and the writers selected another. Can anyone besides Jim Mora say playoffs? Playoffs? PLAYOFFS? Gotta run. The BBVA (Banco Bilbao Vizcaya Argentaria) Compass Bowl is about to start.

I Promise Not to Get a Mohawk in 2011

The beginning of a new year. Yet another opportunity to present to you my annual list of resolutions. First, let’s take a look at last year’s list and see how I fared. I was not invited to a White House Beer Summit so I wasn’t afforded the opportunity to order a Caffeine Free Diet Sun Drop at said event. So that resolve is neither a success nor a failure. But I guess not being invited to a Beer Summit indicates that I haven’t been in trouble. For now at least. As promised, I didn’t grab a black snake in the grass like a friend of mine did and I didn’t donate one of my kidneys to someone, only to ask for it back a few months later. (Someone actually did that in 2009). And I didn’t complain about the mispronunciation and misspelling of my last name last year. So I did pretty well in 2010. That brings us to 2011, the Year of the Rabbit or the Year of the Forests, depending on whom you ask. I, Rusty Stroupe, (pronounced Strap), hereby commit to the following resolutions in the Year of the Rabbit: I will not, under any circumstances, attend the Cricket World Cup in India in February, the Rugby World Cup in New Zealand in September, or the Royal Wedding of Prince William and What’s Her Name in April. Royal weddings have traditionally led to royally complicated divorces, though I hope this one will be an exception. And I will not, if at all possible, utter from my mouth or type on my keyboard (other than now) the phrase, “I’m just sayin.” And I won’t end any of my sentences by saying, “and stuff like that,” or “and junk”. That’s so 2009. And unlike the so-called cool macho guys of the younger generation, I will not get a Mohawk haircut in 2011. I’m not sure my hairline is capable of such an arrangement anyway. I saw a small kid with a green Mohawk recently and I all could think was, “Why?” I will not run for sheriff nor will I spill oil into the Gulf. And I will not feel sorry for either the players or the owners in any strike conducted by Major League Baseball, the NFL, or the NHL. Come on guys, most of us would play for meal money. Okay, I wouldn’t play hockey without a good dental plan but you get the picture. And to honor rabbits, I will not hunt them this year. I haven’t bagged one since I cheated and shot one in our family garden when I was 14. Come to think of it, I haven’t hunted them since then so that will be an easy resolution to keep. So much for the “will nots”. Time for the “I wills”. I will experience a white Christmas, just like the one I knew in 2010, which was the first of my lifetime. I will publish a book and I will, despite whatever low-fat diet I am on, indulge myself with homemade ice cream at every game of the locally hosted American Legion World Series this coming summer. (I’m hoping for homemade banana.) So there you have it. Blessings in 2011. Be on the lookout for Mohawks at the Royal Wedding. I’m just sayin’. (Ooops) Rusty Stroupe