If you’re honest with yourself, you find that you have the dumbest things to say when the pressure is truly on. You think of the right thing immediately following the misprounounced name/idiotic idea passing the threshold of your lips.
We’d all like to have the opportunity to go back and shoot that scene again. This Seinfeld blooper reel is hysterical. Most of our lives are negatively impacted when we do the same thing – unless we can laugh at the mistakes like the cast does in this video.
Perhaps the lack of self-deprecation is what I notice most in my world. I’m pretty hard on myself. My mom says I should quit it (Hi, Mom!) and give myself credit for what I do. I take the opposite view of the thing: I’m not doing all that much and my flaws and foibles are way more fun to bash on than the good stuff is to trot out and praise.
I know, deep in my heart, that I try to do the right thing most of the time. There are exceptions, but so far the people at Sam’s club haven’t caught me letting out blood-curdling screams in empty aisles. (The key is to make sure your face is not pointed at the camera. Then, when the staff comes running, look around like you wonder who that was as well.) The screw ups are sometimes so awesome that I must catalog them for your enjoyment.
The past few weeks have not lent themselves to lampooning. I’ve been working on some soul-recovery issues. My life is good, please don’t misunderstand. However, it’s been a tough past couple of months in some ways and I needed to hit the road, see America, and hang out with my fellow lunatics. Sober moments in some ways, very light in others. But not much of it will see the light of this blog.
I’m working on laughing at the flubbed lines. It’s actually way easier than it looks on paper. You just have to back away from the ledge and take a good look in the mirror. This blog is often that mirror.
In the next few weeks we’ll get some more flash fiction up on this puppy. Some more movie reviews (don’t worry, none of the flicks will have been in a theater for at least 20 years. You can Netflix them right away) and some more book reviews/author interviews. I will work very hard to get away from the chick-books – probably won’t succeed. Dang, but those women can write. And, best of all, most are friends of mine and tolerate my nonsensical questions.
Thanks for sticking with this train wreck for the last four years.
First, my thanks for all of your comments on Tuesday’s Face Me blog tour. Wow! The most comments ever on a single blog post. I was honored to be a part of the group.
Tuesday, incidentally, I calculated how many calories I could consume for free before having to visit the emergency room. I guessed about 13,458 based on the number of hours in the day, and the wide range of establishments honoring veterans with a complimentary meal. In what turned out to be a lark, I scored lunch at Applebee’s and dinner at Famous Dave’s.
My motto for the day…
My wife, who is also a veteran (and the love of my life) was gracious enough to accompany me on this quest. Both of us served during an era when only losers enlisted in the military. Well, that’s how we were treated in some places. There were no free meals on veteran’s day back in 1984. The treatment of the military ranged from “I need your unit commander’s name and phone number before you can write a check here,” to “Honey, if you’re from the base you don’t need a deposit on the furniture. You’re good for it.”
Yes, in California, near Fort Ord, it was pretty bad. In San Angelo, Texas, near Goodfellow AFB, it was great. But the general feeling in the states was that you didn’t amount to much if you enlisted. The fact that the average person enlisting was above average in educational attainment and pretty much free of any criminal past didn’t phase the detractors. I’m glad that has changed.
Tuesday we felt honored everywhere we went. Applebee’s was a sea of unit ball caps, veteran’s jackets, sweatshirts, and faces. You can spot them most places if you know what you’re looking for: it’s in the eyes and the way they hold themselves. It was like sitting down to lunch with my family.
I have gone to a different Applebee’s every year to celebrate. Each time I have been welcomed as an honored guest, shown the utmost of courtesy, and celebrated with a delicious meal. The burger I ate Tuesday was fantastic! Top-shelf stuff, not some pan of crud from the mess halls. My wife and I laughed about the response if the meal was like a mess hall. We agreed that everyone would have been laughing and joking: after all, we at that stuff for a lot of years between us that day.
The wait staff – well, they were amazing. Attitudes, food, and decor (flags, a table for the Missing In Action and POW) were all 10 out of 10.
I even ran into a guy named Joe. I met Joe doing Toys For Tots and he’s now retired from the Marine Corps. He was having lunch at the next table with his Grandfather. His grandfather is a WWII Navy Veteran who served in the Marine Corps during the Korean War. I was tickled to have a chance to get my photo with him, a guy named Joe, and my wife. She’s the one with the long hair.
That’s a picture of brothers and sisters. Some genetic material matched, some didn’t. But under the skin we’d all take it to the extreme for the others. That’s what it’s all about for us: the bond.
After a very brief interlude at a bookstore, I jokingly asked my wife if she was ready for dinner. Mind you, it’s only 2 hours since we left Applebee’s. Affirmative was the response. I laughed: it was time for brisket and I knew it would be a winner.
On to Famous Dave’s. We got to the register to order and found out we were about 20 minutes too late for the Veteran’s Day special. Ah, we’ll eat anyway, I love barbecue. The manager looked at the two of us all decked out in our sweatshirts and ball caps with logos of the military and smiled, “I’ll still do it. Thanks for serving.”
She didn’t have to do that. She could have toed the line and refused the deal. But that’s not how Famous Dave’s rolls. Dave Anderson is an honorable guy, and even if he’s no longer found behind the counter, his spirit seems to attach to the joint. That’s a good thing.
Again, just like Applebee’s, Famous Dave’s had choices for us. I went with the brisket and my wife had the ribs.
I had to start a new paragraph. The food was good enough to rate it’s own. Well prepared, tasty, and photogenic, the meal was a complete winner. And a nice way to honor us. The next table over had a Boatswain’s mate and a Corpsman enjoying their late lunch. It was cool to shout out, “Hey, Boats, Doc, have a great day!” as they left. Again, it’s a Navy thing, but those honorifics speak to our youth and what we all did before we became one of the grey-haired vets sitting around the table.
Yes, I am a vet with white hair. Young for it, but proud of it. And proud to have places like Famous Dave’s and Applebee’s that show such class on a day that is very special to me. I’ll be back. I am several times each year. I spend my money where I’m welcomed. Both establishments did a great job of that on Tuesday.
My thanks to everyone who contributed to a great day for me and my wife.
I’m sure some of you came here today for a lovely Veteran’s Day posting. Something deep. You will not be disappointed today. The format will be a bit different than usual because I was invited, as the only male in the group, to be involved in FACE ME DAY, a blog tour about inner beauty and makeup awareness. I am not making that up. But before we get on to the post, I do want to greet all of my fellow Veterans and say what an honor and joy it is to know so many of you. I am also proud to have served, and will quietly celebrate this day in my own way with my wife.
For those of you who didn’t buy the opening, it’s for real. There’s even an official logo:
How in the name of all that is this blog can I tie no makeup to Veteran’s Day? It’s a two-parter. First, the picture of me without makeup:
Only slightly demented
I am also required to post a scriptural quote: Psalm 139:14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
Next, I challenge you to post a picture of yourself without makeup on your Facebook page.
One final item for you: at the bottom of this post, there are a number of other bloggers writing on this same topic today. Many of these people are friends of mine who had to work very hard to post these pictures. The reason for that will be explained shortly. There will be, I promise, some great writing involved. So when you hit the bottom of my blather, hit the link and continue the tour.
The purpose of this event is to talk about the beauty we have within each of us. God made us in His image, and consequently there is beauty there that is far deeper than the skin. Some of my fellow authors declined to write for this event, because of issues dealing with their appearance. Not that they aren’t beautiful, but they don’t think that they are, and the careful construct of makeup is what makes them publicly presentable in their opinion. I frankly mourn that view, each and every one of them is beautiful beyond belief. I wish, within the bounds of propriety, I could hug each of them and tell them how much their inner beauty shines through when I look at them.
Let’s talk about me, always a fascinating topic, and my non-makeup mug. Before you all laugh, I do wear makeup when I’m doing television commercials and modeling. It’s a must to look good under the lights, and I don’t have any choice. It’s not so awful, but it’s not me. I sped out of a commercial shoot some years ago without getting all the makeup off – I was kind of orange. It got me some very strange looks at McDonald’s just outside of Des Moines. I also bleach my beard for the Santa season, and apply whitener for my visits. I sometimes darken that bleach job if I’m modeling as a biker character. So I’m not always makeup free. I hate the stuff: gives me zits.
I’ve even had plastic surgery: a mini face lift. That was a struggle to agree to the surgery, I’m pretty much opposed to altering your appearance surgically. I’d run out of options, however, in that my eyebrows and lids were so droopy as to be causing vision problems. you can see it’s back to some degree in this photo today. I’m cursed with the saggy face thing. But medical needs prevailed and I got the surgery.
The levity is now over. The next part will probably shock some of you, and others will nod knowingly.
Many of my brothers and sisters have come back from combat with terrible scars on the surface of their bodies, especially burns and blast damage. It is very difficult for most people to look them in they eye without recoiling. The unusual is always hard to deal with, especially if it looks painful. I am blessed in this regard: I see the beauty beneath the trauma. I don’t know why, but the scarring doesn’t bother me: I know how they got that way and recognize that it could have been me in an earlier age. I also, on many occasions, see the wounds beneath the blemish free skin of others. In no case are they any less beautiful than before they entered military service. But they are different inside and out, most of them self-conscious about how they look.
We are a culture based on thin, beautiful images in our media. Wounded Warriors, physically and mentally, are outside this norm we have embraced. Yet these people often have an inner grace that God values above all: they have risked all for their fellow soldier/sailor/airman, and they did it with faith in the outcome. But they are staying in the shadows lest they be judged. Today, when you see a wounded warrior, don’t just blithely thank them for their service. Stay and chat for a moment. Find out what their life is like and hear their story. Some will not want to share. Others will love the fact that you are looking beyond the puckered skin or deformed eye-socket. People. They’re just people like you. People blessed with an inner beauty from our Creator. Can you look closely enough to see the virile young man in an 80 year old body? The drop-dead gorgeous woman hidden within the 300 pound body that accompanied her PTSD? Each of them is beloved by God. Why aren’t we loving them as well?
Am I happy with my face without makeup? Yes. I honestly don’t look at it much beyond checking the beard for food particles and making sure the shave took all the bits away so that my noggin is smooth. Have I always been happy with my face? Pretty much. It’s a good face, it’s my face.
But I understand the makeup issues. I know why people use the stuff and try to change how the world sees them. I have a secret: I have a terrible body image. Really bad. You see, I have been told since I was a little boy that I was fat. I identify myself as fat, joke about it, and recognize the fact that I am truly fat these days. But I ran across some pictures the other day that were taken of me at a point in my life where I was being told, regularly, that I was a fat-body, a blob, a pig, unfit for the uniform, etc. You know what? I wasn’t. I was a handsome young man with a great smile, hair, and a muscular figure. But that’s not how I’ve seen myself for most of my life. I’m fat. How did I ever let Satan’s lies convince me that I was something that I wasn’t? But convinced I was.
When some of my friends declined to do the blog tour today, I understood. They feel as ugly as I feel fat, and I have felt fat for decades. I am becoming aware, slowly, that while I’m overweight I am not as repulsive as I’ve been told. When I analyze who I really am, that outer body is just where I live. It’s like an apartment that God gave me for a short time to put my stuff out of the weather. I don’t feel this the way some of my female friends no doubt do, nor do I do much beyond buying bigger clothes now and again. But I do get it: it hurts. It’s not part of the culture.
Well, I’m out of that closet now. I won’t be changing much about me in the near future: my love affair with donuts continues. But to my friends who look in the mirror today at their bare faces and recoil, remember that God has instilled in you a beauty far beyond what Max Factor could ever envision. You are his son or daughter. I’m going to work on that for myself from here on out. I’d like to thank Jaime Wright for coming up with this idea and getting me to really think about who I am: I am a son of the King.
Happy Veteran’s day to all of my fellow warriors out there. I salute you, and I know you’re beautiful. Especially my wife, a veteran who doesn’t need a single dab of makeup to make my heart beat funny. I love you, Kip.
Sunday was the annual men’s conference at my church. Part of the deal when you belong to a church like mine is wearing specific colors/clothing styles to celebrate different events. My friends are all laughing now, since my wardrobe consists of things you can buy at Fleet Farm and Cabela’s. But I did have a black shirt, a black suit, and a black tie. So I put on the appropriate garb and showed up for the late service.
During the announcements the congregation recognized the veterans in the group. Called by branch to stand up and sing out. Navy was second, and a few I didn’t know were vets popped tall. This continued through the Coast Guard and then we presented arms. (Saluted)
I was overawed, as always, to feel that blaze in my soul when we all stood up. Here, surrounding me in God’s house on a Sunday morning, were people with whom I shared more identity than most that I will ever meet. I was proud to stand with my brothers and sisters. I knew by their response that each of them had been a warrior in their youth.
Yes, a warrior. I’ve seen this “thing” floating about the web that some of us don’t count as warriors because we didn’t climb into a helicopter and land in a rice paddy, or perhaps cross the Saudi desert in a Bradley. Nonsense. Anyone who ever willingly put on the uniform and served honorably was a warrior. Just because you didn’t get called into battle didn’t mean that you weren’t willing to go, trained to go, and capable of carrying out the mission. That includes millions of service members who have served over all the years who never saw an enemy, never sailed near a hostile coast, or loaded their weapon with live rounds in anticipation of a battle.
As always, the Marine Corps contingent was the loudest. I would expect nothing less. I’m pretty sure my dad was shouting along up in Heaven to amp up the noise level and remind me of his beloved Corps. No doubt the angels will be tired of shushing Marines by the end of the day today, as the 10th of November is the birthday of the United States Marine Corps.
Barring a blizzard (which is predicted in Minnesota today) I will hoist a drink (Diet Coke) with a group of genial Marines in celebration of the Corps. I am honored to have been invited to the party. It has been my pleasure, and good fortune, to have served with Marines in my life. My command was a joint command, Marines in command, subordinate Marines, Marines everywhere. We razzed each other, but don’t screw with me or you face them. Screw with them and face me. It was all the same in the end. Brothers and sisters.
I was reminded of that again on Sunday night as I was watching Criminal Minds on Netflix. I won’t give the plot away if you’re still catching up, but it involved Marines and the brotherhood they share throughout their lives. My wife, also a veteran, and I both got a bit choked up at the end of the show. We know that love in our lives.
You see, we are blessed to have friends all over the world who served with us. We talk, email, and meet for coffee or dinner, or just to stare into the abyss together. It’s a bond that civilians will never know. There is something about the experience that brings you close. It’s shared across generations as well. I feel a kinship with recent vets and WWII era heroes as well. All I have to do is know they were there, standing on the same yellow foot prints where you get off the bus, and I share a history. Doesn’t matter if it was Fort Dix in 1956, or San Diego in 2014. We are all part of the same family.
Today will be my day to celebrate the Marines. Tomorrow, and every day, I honor and celebrate my service and that of my family. We are one in spirit.
Tomorrow will be a different kind of post for this blog, and part of it touches on veterans as well. Please drop by to see what it’s all about and give it some thought.
Thanks for dropping by. Semper Fidelis, Marines. Happy Birthday. Dad, I’ll hoist one for you.
I’m participating in a blog tour on Tuesday. They even created a special banner for me. I really hope you’ll swing by and then check out some of the other bloggers I link to that day. It’s a blog unlike any before on this page.
See you Monday. Hope you come by for this one on Tuesday.
