Quixotic Quest for The Perfect Holy Grill
Yes, a search for the perfect grill. Since I was coming to Atlanta this week, Mr. Gruber asked if I could find a "perfect grill" for use on special occasions at the Hangar. Being accommodative and not one to turn down challenges, I enlisted a like-minded companion to assist me on the search, that attorney of celebrity status, Ed Hawie, Esq. (Esquire is the term all lawyers use to justify exorbitant fees). The search began as a process of elimination from the most likely sources: the Internet, Ace Hardware, Wal¬Mart, Home Depot and sundry boutiques and specialty stores. As you might suspect, there were multiple possibilities, all promising to be the perfect grill, but falling short.
Undeterred, Ed and I resorted to extreme measures in the search. We pulled out our best disguises: Ed with his urban assault camouflage suit and red sun glasses and me with my best hippie attire complete with beads. We wanted to blend in well. We combed the derelict places of Atlanta, the vacant warehouses, alleys, burned-out houses, doorways, railroad gulches, expressway overpasses --- places where the disenfranchised and mentally challenged actually live. People who live thusly have to make do with creative things, and there, next to an abandoned boxcar, we found the Perfect Grill. It defies description, but suffice it to say it met all of Mr. Gruber's criteria for the "perfect" status: cheap, versatile, adaptive, mobile, sturdy and unpretentious. And if you will click on the attachment, you will see a picture of Mr. Gruber's Perfect Grill along with the two Urban Explorers who located it.
Of course, you all know that some hyperbole exists in these emails, qnq. we also know that there is nothing "perfect" in this life except what we "see" in our minds. When taken outside of the mind and applied, it is no longer perfect. Yet as humans we continue to search and hope for the perfection that we envision, and that search is perhaps what accounts for the miracles of human invention that we see everyday. It reminded me of some sage advice that I read somewhere once:
"Oh, the Prison of Perfection,
The Freedom of Good Enough."
Sage advice notwithstanding, may nothing ever deter us from the search for perfection in all things good!
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
"The Useful Life of a Knee"
Dear Friends:
"The Useful Life of a Knee"
The news was not good .... Orthopaedic news is never good! "Your knee may be close to the end of its useful life," he said, "But there are options .... " Yeah, right, money and metallic body parts -- that has a ring to it, huh? "I'll think about it," I said --- that's what we usually say when we don't want to make a decision, right? And I really hate to choose between two bad options.
Trying to put his words, "useful life and options," into perspective got me to thinking about a lot more than a gimpy knee. I guess I've never considered that this concept of "useful life" would apply to me personally, seeing that most of us think that things go on as they are forever. Ignorantly, it never entered my mind that one day, after 47 years of running 8-10 miles a day, and 50-mile ultra marathons, my knee would reach the end of its "useful life." Yet it seems to have arrived.
It reminded of one of my life's loves: the 1988 Mercedes Benz 560 SL, the classic convertible with an engine that would run a tank. They don't make 'em like that any more! Many of its parts have already been replaced, and more replacements are necessary. And like me, it is no longer trustworthy for long trips or zero-60 in 4 seconds. Jeff, my car's mechanic, said, "Bud, it has issues: an oil leak, A/C, a timing chain, sun damage on the skin, rust spots, a sensor light short, and it needs a new soft top." I mused, will money solve these problems ... as in most cases - yes. Do I have enough? - that is questionable.
So, what "options" are available for my heart's love? The Blue Book indicates the car's not worth the cost to make these repairs. It has been suggested that the car, as classic as it is, should be put “out to pasture" to enjoy its last days, cruising around the island and basking in the glory of its former days. Kinda like a beautiful thoroughbred horse --- good to look at, useless to race; both near the end of useful life. With these thoughts I'm suddenly jolted back to reality: this is me too .... and perhaps some of you as well.
Looking at my own "options," I weigh the cost of replacements with the resulting "Blue Book" value of a new body. It's a scary conclusion I come to. I'd always hoped that my 560SL would be the last auto I'd have to own, but it looks like I made a miscalculation both with it and my own body. So I suppose I'll opt for the replacement parts when and where necessary just as I did with a couple of teeth in the past. But you can bet it won't be the same!
We're all in this together, you know ... the approach of the end of "useful life" for things personal. And while I don't know about you, I don't intend to go back to any more medical experts anytime soon for fear of hearing that some other parts have also lost their "useful life" and having to choose grim options for solutions. "Useful life and options" it does give one pause to reflect, doesn't it?
Bud
April 19,2007
"The Useful Life of a Knee"
The news was not good .... Orthopaedic news is never good! "Your knee may be close to the end of its useful life," he said, "But there are options .... " Yeah, right, money and metallic body parts -- that has a ring to it, huh? "I'll think about it," I said --- that's what we usually say when we don't want to make a decision, right? And I really hate to choose between two bad options.
Trying to put his words, "useful life and options," into perspective got me to thinking about a lot more than a gimpy knee. I guess I've never considered that this concept of "useful life" would apply to me personally, seeing that most of us think that things go on as they are forever. Ignorantly, it never entered my mind that one day, after 47 years of running 8-10 miles a day, and 50-mile ultra marathons, my knee would reach the end of its "useful life." Yet it seems to have arrived.
It reminded of one of my life's loves: the 1988 Mercedes Benz 560 SL, the classic convertible with an engine that would run a tank. They don't make 'em like that any more! Many of its parts have already been replaced, and more replacements are necessary. And like me, it is no longer trustworthy for long trips or zero-60 in 4 seconds. Jeff, my car's mechanic, said, "Bud, it has issues: an oil leak, A/C, a timing chain, sun damage on the skin, rust spots, a sensor light short, and it needs a new soft top." I mused, will money solve these problems ... as in most cases - yes. Do I have enough? - that is questionable.
So, what "options" are available for my heart's love? The Blue Book indicates the car's not worth the cost to make these repairs. It has been suggested that the car, as classic as it is, should be put “out to pasture" to enjoy its last days, cruising around the island and basking in the glory of its former days. Kinda like a beautiful thoroughbred horse --- good to look at, useless to race; both near the end of useful life. With these thoughts I'm suddenly jolted back to reality: this is me too .... and perhaps some of you as well.
Looking at my own "options," I weigh the cost of replacements with the resulting "Blue Book" value of a new body. It's a scary conclusion I come to. I'd always hoped that my 560SL would be the last auto I'd have to own, but it looks like I made a miscalculation both with it and my own body. So I suppose I'll opt for the replacement parts when and where necessary just as I did with a couple of teeth in the past. But you can bet it won't be the same!
We're all in this together, you know ... the approach of the end of "useful life" for things personal. And while I don't know about you, I don't intend to go back to any more medical experts anytime soon for fear of hearing that some other parts have also lost their "useful life" and having to choose grim options for solutions. "Useful life and options" it does give one pause to reflect, doesn't it?
Bud
April 19,2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Gisco is Gone....!
Friends:
Gisco is Gone ... !
That's right, after 37 years Gisco is closed "Gone Fishin'" said the sign. Can you believe it?
The old weathered shack gave us its own share of old-island ambience to that corner. I won't miss it too much, I think, since it smelled real fishy the last couple of times I went there. And in my line of business --- real estate --- we know if something smells fishy, there's probably something rotten at the core. So, I guess it had to go, but my eyes will miss it another relic past its prime.
Lots of things have changed around here and more is on the way. In the old days of summer vacations my brother and I would pool our nickels and dimes and rent a "cottage" on Sea Island for two weeks, pretending of course to be relatives of Gatsby. Gone are those days for sure, substituted by a new Cloister hotel that would make the architects of Dubai jealous.Two nights there now equals two weeks' house rent in the old days! Now we'd be forced to have to go to Myrtle Beach, and could a marriage handle that?
And what about the Prince on the Beach ~ the owners, relics themselves from that last magnolia State of the Confederacy, have substituted what was a perfectly nice outdoor bar on the beach for a fetid pool of water in the lobby, the smell of chlorine ubiquitous. They deserve the guests they get ..... it reminds me of a Radisson I once stayed in on a snowy winter night in Minnesota. Strange people were there.
You want more? Just look around. Check out the license plates, listen to the lingo at Winn Dixie, savor the new Starbuck's, the Outback (what happened to that smoky den called "Poor Stevens?"), the less-than-Misner architectural abominations on Beach Drive, and the sickening proliferation of traffic. Change is coming fast, so you'd better get a good last look of how things are --- 'cause if you don't like what you see today, you sure as heck won't like it tomorrow; and McIntosh County is lookin' better all the time.
Maybe we're the relics after all --- I'm beginning to think so. We're gonna see more "gone fishin'" signs sooner than later. And don't think for a minute you can trust Providence to protect you from the fallout. Elvis is dead, Rodney too. James Brown's body is still making the circuit and the media won't let Anna Nicole go in peace. So what kind of loving Father would take these folks and leave us with Hillary? Somethin's fishy all right. And when our little airport Farmer's Market hangs out their "gone fishin'" sign, I'm outta here myself. Enough is enough.
Bud
April 12, 2007
Gisco is Gone ... !
That's right, after 37 years Gisco is closed "Gone Fishin'" said the sign. Can you believe it?
The old weathered shack gave us its own share of old-island ambience to that corner. I won't miss it too much, I think, since it smelled real fishy the last couple of times I went there. And in my line of business --- real estate --- we know if something smells fishy, there's probably something rotten at the core. So, I guess it had to go, but my eyes will miss it another relic past its prime.
Lots of things have changed around here and more is on the way. In the old days of summer vacations my brother and I would pool our nickels and dimes and rent a "cottage" on Sea Island for two weeks, pretending of course to be relatives of Gatsby. Gone are those days for sure, substituted by a new Cloister hotel that would make the architects of Dubai jealous.Two nights there now equals two weeks' house rent in the old days! Now we'd be forced to have to go to Myrtle Beach, and could a marriage handle that?
And what about the Prince on the Beach ~ the owners, relics themselves from that last magnolia State of the Confederacy, have substituted what was a perfectly nice outdoor bar on the beach for a fetid pool of water in the lobby, the smell of chlorine ubiquitous. They deserve the guests they get ..... it reminds me of a Radisson I once stayed in on a snowy winter night in Minnesota. Strange people were there.
You want more? Just look around. Check out the license plates, listen to the lingo at Winn Dixie, savor the new Starbuck's, the Outback (what happened to that smoky den called "Poor Stevens?"), the less-than-Misner architectural abominations on Beach Drive, and the sickening proliferation of traffic. Change is coming fast, so you'd better get a good last look of how things are --- 'cause if you don't like what you see today, you sure as heck won't like it tomorrow; and McIntosh County is lookin' better all the time.
Maybe we're the relics after all --- I'm beginning to think so. We're gonna see more "gone fishin'" signs sooner than later. And don't think for a minute you can trust Providence to protect you from the fallout. Elvis is dead, Rodney too. James Brown's body is still making the circuit and the media won't let Anna Nicole go in peace. So what kind of loving Father would take these folks and leave us with Hillary? Somethin's fishy all right. And when our little airport Farmer's Market hangs out their "gone fishin'" sign, I'm outta here myself. Enough is enough.
Bud
April 12, 2007
Thursday, April 5, 2007
"It is Finished"
Hello Friends:
"It Is Finished"
Tomorrow is Good Friday. Chef Mike is off so there will be no lunch tomorrow. Lunch resumes Friday, Apri1 13th.
Since ya' all are a hungry bunch, I thought it proper to offer you whatever nourishment you might squeeze out of my inane ramblings, even if it's just a small morsel of food-for-thought on this occasion. So I am intruding in Chef Mike's kitchen and cookin' up somethin' for you --- I hope you like it. Since I'm not a master chef, I'm preparing for you a metaphorical stew made up of ingredients sent to me by one known for double-speak, a lawyer (but then I repeat myself) ---- and you should consume it twice in order to get its full caloric benefit:
Only great minds can read this ..... fi yuo cna raed tllis, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. I cdnoult blveiee tabt I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd wabt I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the human mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the Itteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tiling is taht the frsit and lsat Itteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotI mses and you can sitU raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istIef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? Yeah and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!
Pretty tasty, huh? And quite nourishing in itself, particularly if you enjoy metaphorical cuisine. The secret ingredient in this recipe, at least for thought-food, is that each "word" must begin and end with its correct letter, with little regard to the arrangement of the bulk of the ingredients --- a pinch here, a dash there, a dollop more, a soupcon for you Francophiles, and it all comes out just right. Stewed correctly, it offers high calories of mind-food (but remember, unless you squeeze some metaphorical ketchup in it, it will remain tasteless mystery-meat and not very appetizing).
I inquired with the Master Chef of all chefs why this recipe worked, seeing that aside from the first and last letter all else seemed random, confused, mysterious, confounded, chaotic, whimsical--- sort of like human life, if you will. As with most replies by the Master Chef, there is mostly a silence which provokes a great deal of thought and wonder. And I think I now know why this recipe works --- the Master Chef is not nearly as concerned about the "ingredients in the middle" as He is that the "word" begin and end with the correct letters. So metaphorically, and this may be a long reach, our "word" at birth began with the correct letter, and some of our "words" are very long now and with admixtures of strange ingredients. Since I am writing and you are reading, the last letter of our "word," whether long or short, has not been finally inserted. Looking at it from a distance though gives us pretty much a clue of what it might say or mean; and we still have within our control the opportunity to fill in that last letter to complete our "word .... " I hope I didn't overstep my boundaries!
So while I'm intruding into Someone else's kitchen, let me add: "It is finished" ---- the Bible records that these are the last words that Jesus spoke on earth .... Words of victory to all who can hear and believe in them. These words, when applied to the ingredients of our "word," complete right now and forever that last letter, and makes our recipe come out perfect in the end. This is what Easter is all about to me A "Finished Word!"
Well, you'll have to make your own dessert, but I am pretty sure that the time you spend in your "kitchen" with family and friends will result in a very perfect conclusion to this Easter experience.
Bud
4/5/2007
"It Is Finished"
Tomorrow is Good Friday. Chef Mike is off so there will be no lunch tomorrow. Lunch resumes Friday, Apri1 13th.
Since ya' all are a hungry bunch, I thought it proper to offer you whatever nourishment you might squeeze out of my inane ramblings, even if it's just a small morsel of food-for-thought on this occasion. So I am intruding in Chef Mike's kitchen and cookin' up somethin' for you --- I hope you like it. Since I'm not a master chef, I'm preparing for you a metaphorical stew made up of ingredients sent to me by one known for double-speak, a lawyer (but then I repeat myself) ---- and you should consume it twice in order to get its full caloric benefit:
Only great minds can read this ..... fi yuo cna raed tllis, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. I cdnoult blveiee tabt I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd wabt I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the human mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the Itteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tiling is taht the frsit and lsat Itteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotI mses and you can sitU raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istIef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? Yeah and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!
Pretty tasty, huh? And quite nourishing in itself, particularly if you enjoy metaphorical cuisine. The secret ingredient in this recipe, at least for thought-food, is that each "word" must begin and end with its correct letter, with little regard to the arrangement of the bulk of the ingredients --- a pinch here, a dash there, a dollop more, a soupcon for you Francophiles, and it all comes out just right. Stewed correctly, it offers high calories of mind-food (but remember, unless you squeeze some metaphorical ketchup in it, it will remain tasteless mystery-meat and not very appetizing).
I inquired with the Master Chef of all chefs why this recipe worked, seeing that aside from the first and last letter all else seemed random, confused, mysterious, confounded, chaotic, whimsical--- sort of like human life, if you will. As with most replies by the Master Chef, there is mostly a silence which provokes a great deal of thought and wonder. And I think I now know why this recipe works --- the Master Chef is not nearly as concerned about the "ingredients in the middle" as He is that the "word" begin and end with the correct letters. So metaphorically, and this may be a long reach, our "word" at birth began with the correct letter, and some of our "words" are very long now and with admixtures of strange ingredients. Since I am writing and you are reading, the last letter of our "word," whether long or short, has not been finally inserted. Looking at it from a distance though gives us pretty much a clue of what it might say or mean; and we still have within our control the opportunity to fill in that last letter to complete our "word .... " I hope I didn't overstep my boundaries!
So while I'm intruding into Someone else's kitchen, let me add: "It is finished" ---- the Bible records that these are the last words that Jesus spoke on earth .... Words of victory to all who can hear and believe in them. These words, when applied to the ingredients of our "word," complete right now and forever that last letter, and makes our recipe come out perfect in the end. This is what Easter is all about to me A "Finished Word!"
Well, you'll have to make your own dessert, but I am pretty sure that the time you spend in your "kitchen" with family and friends will result in a very perfect conclusion to this Easter experience.
Bud
4/5/2007
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