I like grocery shopping, which as far as I know is rare for a guy. But I’m a bachelor so it isn’t like I have anyone else to do it for me. I guess I figure I may as well enjoy the task. Of course I also like eating (probably too much) so it all sort of comes together like a logical jigsaw puzzle. Anyway, a recent excursion to the store struck me as interesting and has the juices flowing. I am not sure why, as it wasn’t all that much different from any other shopping experience, but I’ll just go with it. Take this virtual trip with me, enjoy the ride, and get a little insight into how my thought process works.
My Mom always had a particular day…I believe it was Thursday…to go grocery shopping. She was much more organized that me, and I am sure there was a reason for this schedule. Conversely, I am completely random. I go either when I am nearly out of food, or maybe just out of certain staples like milk, bread, sugar, salt, etc. that 
make eating more difficult than necessary. Or there are occasions when I have a day off, the weather is quite lovely, I do not want to lay around The Bachelor Palace all day, and grocery shopping seems like an entertaining option. There was a time when, being a night owl, I may decide to hit one of the 24 hour stores just because I was awake super late and had a burst of energy. However, I work midnight shifts now and even though it is not unusual for me to be awake at 3am on my nights off I rarely venture out at that hour anymore.
The specific day germane to this adventure was a Monday. I am typically working Sunday nights and therefore am a lazy waste of space all day Monday, but happened to have a Sunday night off. This factor, along with Monday being an uncommonly lovely & 
warm autumn day lead to my decision to be productive. Plus I was out of milk, which is like Lindsay Lohan being at a raging party that has emptied it’s last bottle of Jagermeister.
The first thing that happened when I arrived at the friendly neighborhood (yet nationally known) super mega store was something that occurs often and rarely fails to inexplicably bother the living daylights out of me. I get my wheelchair out of my truck, then transfer my big ol’ fat butt into my chair. I was getting something out of the back of the vehicle when a well-meaning yet unintentionally offensive stranger happened along and asked the question I have come to despise…”Sir, can I 
help you??” I have yet to come up with the proper response. My comeback is usually a palpably tense “No…thank you though. I got it…do it every day”. Should my response be kinder?? After all, these folks are nice and have the right idea. The world would be better if more people were as thoughtful. Or should my response be designed to expose peoples’ disingenuousness?? I have often thought of just saying a simple “Yes” and then sitting there to await their reaction, which would likely be “Okay…what do you need?? How can I help??”. My reply would then be “Well you’re the one who offered assistance. I assumed you had an idea in mind.” I just wish people understood what a dagger to my heart offers of aid are under anything but extraordinary circumstances. I have been a paraplegic all my life. I survive. I find ways to get things done. I understand my limitations and do not engage in activities that are inaccessible or more trouble than they’re worth. Offering to help with typical daily activities that are, for me, second nature, is akin to me asking a stranger if I they need assistance tying their shoes, cutting their meat, or brushing their teeth. It makes me feel pathetic, and I don’t like feeling pathetic.
Anyway…at this point I need to specify that this particular Monday was November 1st. This is important because the first thing I saw as I entered the store was a rather large Christmas tree. Really?? Are you kidding me?? Less than 24 hours earlier it was all ghosts and pumpkins and fun size candy bars, and now we’ve suddenly jumped into the Christmas season?? Look, I am a huge Christmas guy. I love everything about Christmas…the lights, the food, the movies & TV specials, the music. I especially love the REAL “reason for the season” (y’all do remember what that is, right??). But is it too much to ask that we have a little break between holidays…maybe a week?? And can we please give some love to Thanksgiving?? I long ago accepted that Thanksgiving segues immediately into the month long Christmaspalooza, and that’s okay. I also understand that Thanksgiving is difficult to market. There is a finite number of products we purchase and they are all food…turkey, pumpkin pie, stuffing, yams, cranberry sauce…so it’s not really profitable to a wide variety of retailers. Still, Thanksgiving remains one of the “big” holidays and shouldn’t be pushed aside for Santa Claus, imported toys, and artificial fiberoptic trees.
My first task was to head to the deli. I have only recently begun utilizing the deli. I was under some sort of long term delusion wherein I believed that prepackaged meats and cheeses were less expensive. That may still be the case but I think the price difference is negligible these days. Everything is outrageous. At any rate, a couple things of interest occurred in the deli. First, kudos to whomever came up with the handy thickness 
chart so one can easily communicate how they want an item sliced. It is such an easy, low tech solution. Simplicity at its best. Conversely, I am a bit mystified at the variety of cold cuts available. In my world ham is ham, turkey is turkey, and bologna is…well, whatever bologna is. But not so fast my friend!! There are now apparently dozens of each type. Honey, smoked, sun dried tomato, baked, Italian style…complexity personified. As I was mulling over my choices and suddenly getting that overwhelmed feeling that I used to get before an algebra quiz in junior high, I became distracted by one of the families in front of me. One member of the family was a young girl probably 8-10 years of age. This little “lady” was not only looking at the glass case that holds all the goodies, she had her face right up against it…while hacking up a lung. Thank God the glass was there. But did her mother tell her to cover her mouth?? Stop making out with the glass?? No. As mentioned, there are enough varieties available. I really don’t think we need H1N1 pastrami. Really people…have some class. Teach your children a bit of couth. My apologies to anyone who has to look that word up in the dictionary.
After getting what I wanted from the deli it was time to methodically maneuver through the rest of the store. I rarely make a list. I live alone, meaning I eat what I want, when I want, how I want. This has not been a positive for my unfortunately corpulent waistline, but it makes shopping easy and enjoyable. I normally meander through each aisle and grab what looks good, and over the years I’ve learned a few things.
First, because I am in a wheelchair and God has a sense of humor what I desire is inevitably on the top shelf. And while there is no shortage of interlopers offering assistance when I do not need any, when I really could use some help suddenly I am The Omega Man.
I also have a million dollar idea that I’ll offer up to some entrepreneurial soul free of charge. Grocery stores should be marked off like roads and parking lots. There need to be lanes. Rules should prevent five (usually rotund) people from walking side-by-side 
and blocking an entire 10 foot area. We’re shopping here folks, not skipping down The Yellow Brick Road. There also should be time limits…maybe red & green lights. If you can’t decide between Fruity Pebbles and Frosted Mini-Wheats move on and come back later. The rest of us need our recommended daily allowance of fiber too, and the ballgame comes on in 45 minutes.
In a related matter, I sincerely believe that motorized carts should only be used by the elderly and legitimately disabled. Using a cart because you are too obese to walk is just sad.
Always buy the greenest bananas available. You’ll seem like a genius in two days.
Milk is in the rear of the store for a reason. It’s a marketing ploy designed to prevent people like me from rushing in, grabbing my favorite beverage,
and leaving without being tempted by a bunch of other stuff. That’s fine. It is a rather ingenious plot.
I have recently begun to eat whole wheat bread and I like it. Of course the health benefits are likely nullified when I slather it with Miracle Whip.
Speaking of unhealthy, my heart breaks every time I peruse the plethora of candy out there and the Bar None, discontinued in the mid-1990′s, is not on the shelves. Damn you Hershey!!
I am quite sure there is a method to the organization of each aisle, and if one frequents the same store often finding things becomes easy enough. But why not arrange everything alphabetically?? Or since we’re such a technologically advanced society how about computers placed throughout the marketplace so one can do a quick search?? Think of it as Google for groceries. Yes I realize there are usually signs hanging from the ceiling telling us what we can expect if we venture down a particular row, but unlike the minimalist solution alluded to in the deli I think this calls for some razzle dazzle. Maybe this sort of thing is available in the big city already, but I live in West Virginia, where a number of people still believe Jimmy Carter is President and some continue to be confused by “the clicker” for the TV.
Checking out is always fun. First of all, why are there 25 checkouts but only 8 of them are open?? The eight that are open have lines stretching halfway back to the beer section. I know a lot of people that need a job who’d be glad to work those other 17 registers. Secondly, I always…always…get stuck behind the person who A) is 
purchasing hundreds of dollars of food in an apparent effort to singlehandedly cure world hunger, and/or B) has an item which the computer does not recognize thereby forcing the cashier to put on the little light and await a management type. Of course this gives me a few moments to leaf through the tabloids to see what my peeps Paris & the Kardashian gals are up to, find out if Brangelina are still married, clarify who is sleeping with who amongst the cast of Glee, and get an update on the whereabouts of the very much alive Elvis, JFK, and Michael Jackson. Does anyone actually purchase those “magazines” or just glance at them in line?? On this particular day I encountered an especially chipper 
young man at the register who really seemed to enjoy his job and said things like “I want to do everything I can to make this a great shopping experience for my customers”. And I am convinced he genuinely meant every word. It is likely an unfortunate indictment of my cynical nature that I found myself wondering if he may need some counseling.
Now one would think that after checking out the adventure would be over, right?? Alas, one still must get out of the parking lot without injury. What is it about grocery store parking lots that lower the average person’s IQ by 50. I have had more vehicular near misses and close calls in parking lots than superhighways. I sincerely believe that law enforcement needs to be on duty at all times to direct traffic. This would atleast justify the two or three parking spaces marked as reserved for the police. I mean honestly…I NEVER see any policemen there, so why are they needlessly commandeering much needed parking?? Why are these spaces so close to the 
entrance?? Don’t police have to maintain a minimal level of fitness?? Make them park in the back under normal circumstances. If a real emergency arises they can park wherever they like anyway. And while I am thinking about it, what’s the deal with “stork parking”?? Aren’t pregnant women supposed to walk as much as possible??
So that’s my story. I look forward to running out of food and having another adventure soon.
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happenings. Auld Lang Syne and the big ball drop signify a New Year. The Jerry Lewis Telethon envelopes Labor Day. The kickoff of football season means summer is over and autumn has arrived while baseball ushers in springtime. And for me, the first time I catch A Christmas Story on television (usually on Turner Classic Movies on Thanksgiving or the day after) means the Christmas season is in full swing, while the final showing of the annual 24 hour marathon that ends at 8pm on 
late 1930′s/early 1940′s and of course was thrust upon the public in the 1980′s, another case where a sense of timelessness and wistful nostalgia crosses the time-space continuum and adds to one’s eternal enjoyment of the experience. Based on stories written by humorist Jean Shepherd about his childhood in pre-WWII Indiana, A Christmas Story has well developed characters and a rapier sharp script that is funny yet poignant and maybe even a little subversive. I have read Shepherd’s works, or atleast the one’s germane to this movie, and he is a very good writer. However, I think we have a rare example of the movie being better than the book.
Airport ’77, The Natural, & Billy Madison, and a host of guest starring roles on various television shows from the 1960′s through the 1990′s…but his legacy will forever be tied to our current subject du jour. The Old Man is an odd combination of tough talking disciplinarian and clueless buffoon. In other words, he embodies a typical Dad. Sure the kids and their escapades are cute, and Ralphie’s schemes to somehow land that BB gun are the centerpiece of the movie. However, I submit that the sublime pleasure that is A Christmas Story is just as much about The Old Man’s potty mouth, his disdain for the redneck neighbors and their dogs, the ongoing battle with an old broken down furnace, and of course the overwhelming pride he feels after winning a trivia contest and being awarded with a hideous pop art lamp in which only he can see the beauty. The Old Man isn’t quite a slapstick fool in the vein of 
possibly the most popular Christmas film of all time has been meteoric. I cannot say that I have ever watched all 24 hours of the marathon because I do have a life, but I usually catch bits & pieces throughout and probably sit down and watch the whole thing twice. I would like to believe that A Christmas Story would have been recognized by the masses for its genius without the less-than-subtle marketing blitz, but let’s face it…the American public will fall for the hard sell and can be goaded into bandwagon jumping. I suppose scoffers will always believe this to be a movie that the public had to be convinced to like, and that may be true on some subliminal level. But I think it is safe to assume that we have all been sold lemons of far lesser quality (look at the current occupants of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue for example) than A Christmas Story, a film that deserves its place in the pantheon of traditional holiday entertainment, and has earned its high spot on this particular list as well.
course, Christmas Eve. He is shown the error of his ways and wakes up on Christmas morning a changed man. Along the way we meet Scrooge’s poor but cheerful nephew Fred and Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s underpaid and mistreated clerk, who is barely able to support his large family, which includes young son Tiny Tim, who has been stricken with a disease that is never specified and will die without proper (and expensive) medical care. 
am a writer, so that is what I tend to focus on. Jaws is the rare film that works on both levels. Based on a 1974 novel by Peter Benchley, Jaws scares of the crap out of the viewer but also makes us give a damn about the folks on the screen. As faithful readers know, I tend to believe that the book is better than the movie in almost all cases. Is that the case here?? I don’t know. I have to confess that I have never read the book. I have heard that the movie is much better, that the book isn’t really all that stellar. Maybe someday I will decide for myself. In the meantime, Roy Schneider, Richard Dreyfuss, and Robert Shaw star as a police chief, a marine biologist, and a shark hunter charged with the task of hunting down a great white shark that is terrorizing a small New England tourist trap. We get to know each of these characters, and the subplot of the town’s angst concerning the safety of the masses versus the need to make a profit is an important element as well. But make no mistake…the real star of the show is the shark. Jaws was directed by Steven Spielberg before anyone knew or cared who he was, and he does a masterful job of exercising restraint, creating suspense and drama instead of just enabling the cheap blood and gore mentality. Much of this was due to a limited budget and a lot of headaches during filming, but those negatives are turned into such a positive that Jaws is and will forever will be a legendary movie. It is not a coincidence that several subpar sequels were made and that Spielberg was not involved in any of them. I would be remiss if I did not mention the haunting musical contribution of composer John Williams. Who knew that two simple notes could be made into such spectacularly memorable music?? Jaws is like a fine wine…its greatness grows on a person over the course of time and multiple viewings. Modern filmmakers should take heed of the lessons learned from this movie. Just because one has access to unlimited funds and countless technological toys does not mean that the movies they make are great. Write a good story first, then get some truly talented actors (and just because they are huge movie stars does not mean they qualify as good actors). Don’t go too crazy with all the special effects…a little goes a long way. Throw in a quality musical score and you just may have something. Spielberg’s offerings have been kind of hit or miss over the last decade. Minority Report?? War of the Worlds?? Come on Spielberg…step away from the pitcher of Tom Cruise Kool-Aid. But no matter what he does in the future he must always be given kudos for the ultimate summer blockbuster.
to be sensitive to such things. At any rate, Casablanca stars Humphrey Bogart as Rick, an American misanthrope running a nightclub in the French controlled North African colony of Morocco during World War II at a time when the Nazis are steadily taking over the vast majority of Europe. Rick gains possession of “letters of transit” which would allow the bearer to escape to America. Things get complicated when Rick’s ex Ilsa pops in, with her husband, a Czech resistance leader, in tow. Ilsa’s appearance explains Rick’s cynical resentment and hardscrabble attitude. She attempts to convince Rick that she is still in love with him in order to gain possession of the letters of transit so her husband can escape to America. Rick seems to buy into it, but at the last second pulls an ol’ bait & switch, revealing himself to be more of a softy than we realize. He makes Ilsa get on a plane with her husband, and runs interference against the Nazis and the corrupt local French police captain while the couple make their escape. Casablanca is one of our most quotable films and there is not a bad performance from any of the cast. It is a nearly flawless exercise in filmmaking. There’s a little romance, a little drama, some suspense, a twist ending, and even a laugh or two. There simply aren’t enough superlatives in the dictionary to properly encapsulate its greatness, and nothing I write can do it justice. Rent it at your local video store or make an effort to catch it sometime on AMC or TCM and you will understand. I hope that younger generations continue to embrace the superb quality of Casablanca and use it as an example in demanding better stories from modern Hollywood.
whom I considered my friends live far away from me…Dallas TX, Columbus OH, Charleston WV, and many other far flung towns across the map, from Montana to Georgia to Florida New York to California. So I am grateful that technology allows me to maintain some form of contact. However, Facebook is also rather addicting. There are countless games, quizzes, polls, and other applications that one can mindlessly get lost in for hours. I’m not against some pointless fun on occasion, but I do feel like I waste a lot of time that could otherwise be spent on more consequential activities like prayer, studying The Bible, reading a good book, or even getting the proper amount of sleep.
again-off again, intermittently successful career over five decades. As a child of the 1980’s I fondly recall the Saturday morning Chipmunks cartoon. But their first success is still their best…an almost too simple tune about being anxious (as most kids are) for Christmas to arrive and wanting toy planes and a hula hoop.
Unabashedly and overtly delivering the message of the birth of Jesus and the gift of salvation to the world, it’s a tune supple enough to be energetically sung by a choir or congregation, or solemnly played by any manner of instrument.
recorded during World War II and was extremely significant to soldiers and their families. 
movies. Let It Snow is played at the end of my favorite action flick, Die Hard, which I consider a Christmas movie even if no one else does. Meli Kalikimaka (Hawaiian for Merry Christmas) is prominent in Chevy Chase’s classic Christmas Vacation. Bing Crosby does the definitive version of Mele Kalikimaka, while Let It Snow is done best by original artist Vaughn Monroe but a viable alternative is the Dean Martin cover. Let It Snow is technically a winter song and makes no references to Christmas at all, but it has become so closely associated with the holiday season that it qualifies as a Christmas carol.
It was translated into English as the more familiar O Come All Ye Faithful in the 19th century. The words of the song exhort us to celebrate the birth of Christ, to adore and behold The King. However, I have to say that the best versions of this song are audacious, grand, thunderous ensemble pieces by orchestras like The Boston Pops or the Mannheim Steamroller.
season. This is a perfect example. With lyrics written in the 1700’s by Charles Wesley (brother of John, the founder of Methodism) and paired with music composed by Felix Mendelssohn a hundred years later, this is just one of those songs that IS Christmas. It speaks of everything Christmas should encompass: glory to The King (Jesus Christ, not Elvis), peace, mercy, joy, triumph, and righteousness. Like other songs it speaks about the birth of Christ and what that means to the world, and since that is the whole point of Christmas it’s fine with me if the message is rehashed in as many songs as possible. Off the top of my head I cannot think of one singular cover that stands out…they’re all great since it’s a pretty difficult song to mess up. It lends itself well to orchestral or instrumental versions, but choral versions with the words are probably my favorite.
don’t consider themselves to be particularly spiritual appreciate things like home, family, and sentimental memories. But for kids Christmas is all about The Big Guy, the Jolly Old Elf, the fat man in the red suit…Santa Claus. So it makes sense that there would be a plethora of Christmas carols dedicated to Kris Kringle. The two most pervasive of these have been covered by an endless array of artists with mixed results, but they are so wonderful because they are so descriptive. They paint such a vivid picture of the mythology of Santa that anyone who doesn’t know the story can have it re-created in their mind just from these songs. Here Comes Santa Claus was written in 1946 by cowboy Gene Autry, who also sang the definitive version. About Santa, the singer sings “he doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor, he loves you just the same…Santa knows that we’re God’s children, that makes everything right…fill your hearts with Christmas cheer cause Santa Claus comes tonight”. What a great message. Santa Claus Is Coming to Town was written in 1934 and is a sort of cautionary tale for children. It warns them that Santa knows when they are sleeping and awake, knows when they’ve been bad or good, and will be making a list and checking it twice so he can divide it into two categories: naughty and nice. Call it gentle discipline or call it mind games…but it works and has scared millions of kids into being good little boys and girls. Bruce Springsteen might have the best known cover of the tune, but I think that’s simply because it’s so odd to hear such a gruff and tough rocker singing a children’s Christmas carol.
church during midnight service with nothing but the soft glow of candles in the window to light the sanctuary as the congregation softly sings. This moment usually encompasses three songs, one of which is Away in a Manger. Published in the late 1800’s, it has been credited by some to famed 16th century theologian Martin Luther, but there seems to be a lot of disagreement on the facts. At any rate, it’s a beautiful song that takes us back to the night of Jesus’ birth, the night He was born in a stable because there was no room at the inn. The best covers of the song seem to be by country artists, possibly because the majority of them still seem to have some virtue remaining and are therefore capable of singing songs of faith with some sense of authenticity.
commonplace group of worshipers or carolers it is usually sung with such fervent spirit that it doesn’t matter if not everyone can actually carry a tune. The aforementioned refrain is Latin for “glory to God in the highest”, which pretty much sums up what Christmas is, or atleast should be, about. I love orchestral versions of the song as well. The music lends itself well to things like French horns, cornets, and trombones. It doesn’t seem to get as much love as a lot of other carols, but I’ll take Angels over Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer or I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus any day.
Anyway, Burl Ives, as some may or may or may not recall, was a folk singer/actor/entertainer from the 1940’s through the 1970’s. But he is most likely best known to most, especially anyone under the age of 35, as the voice of Sam the Snowman, narrator of the perennial Christmas classic Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Even as an adult I cannot wait each Christmas season for that TV special. And even though Burl’s performance of the song Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer isn’t at the top of the list (more on that song later), he did contribute two other tunes…Silver & Gold and Holly Jolly Christmas. Holly Jolly Christmas could probably best be described as…catchy. It’s just got that kind of beat. And while some carols are melancholy, many show reverence to Christ, and others are plainly meant for kids, Holly Jolly Christmas is uplifting, positive, and fun without being the least bit childish. It talks about things like “the best time of the year”, “mistletoe”, “cup of cheer”, and “friends you know”. This is the kind of song that should put you instantly in a good mood no matter what’s going on in your life.
“celebrating” Christmas almost before Halloween is over and these days almost certainly before Thanksgiving has even arrived. Of course by “celebrating” I mean retail stores and anyone else who has figured out a way to make a buck off of the birth of Jesus Christ. Anyway, originally the 12 days of Christmas were December 25-January 5, followed by Epiphany on January 6 (this is the day that the Magi, aka The Three Wise Men, arrived to visit the baby Jesus…not on Christmas as so many Christmas plays portray). Encompassed within this timeframe is Boxing Day on December 26. Contrary to what some may think, Boxing Day is not the day Canadians and Englishmen come bearing gifts to Muhammed Ali, Mike Tyson, and Floyd Mayweather Jr. January 5 was known as Twelfth Night and was the conclusion to the holiday season. The entire 12 days was a long festival of gift giving & merriment. So basically in the Middle Ages folks in England did what we do today, only they did it in 12 days instead of 2 months and they did it later. December 25 was the actual beginning of the season for them, whereas in modern times most of us are exhausted and ready for the whole ordeal to be over by the time the actual holiday arrives. What we call New Year’s Eve/Day was when they were really into the swing of things. By January 6 we’ve already moved on with our lives and those crazy cats were just winding down. Personally I’d LOVE to see our country revert back to this old fashioned way of doing things, but that and $2 will almost buy me a cup of coffee.
