Friday, December 31, 2004
See What I Mean?
I told you that my girls got all painted up like show ponies for their cheerleading competitions. They look like they should be going to work at a casino. (if they were taller)
Those of you who are fathers can see why this is somewhat disturbing to me.
Those of you who are fathers can see why this is somewhat disturbing to me.
Thursday, December 30, 2004
True Story
I heard this guy tell his story the other day on Sean Hannity. Whether you're a baseball fan or not, this will make you say..."WOW"!
Roger Maris and Me
I grew up in the shadow of Yankee Stadium and just fell in love with baseball.
When Roger Maris came to the New York Yankees from the Kansas City Athletics in 1960, I was eleven. I had been burned in a fire in August, so I was laid up for a while and followed baseball even more closely. I remember a headline that said Roger Maris "rejuvenates" the Yankees. I had never heard the word before, but it made me think this Roger Maris was someone special.
For me, there was something about the way he swung the bat, the way he played right field and the way he looked. I had an idol. In 1961 the entire country was wrapped up in the home-run race between Maris and Mickey Mantle and Babe Ruth's ghost. I cut out every single article on Roger and told myself that when I got older and could afford it, I would have my scrapbooks professionally bound. (Eight years ago I had all of them bound into eleven volumes.)
I usually sat in Section 31, Row 162-A, Seat 1 in Yankee Stadium. Right field. I would buy a general admission ticket, but I knew the policeman, so I would switch over to the reserved seats, and that one was frequently empty.
I'd get to the stadium about two hours before it opened. I would see Roger park his car, and I would say hello and tell him what a big fan I was. After a while, he started to notice me. One day he threw me a baseball during batting practice, and I was so stunned I couldn't lift my arms. Somebody else got the ball. So Roger spoke to Phil Linz, a utility infielder, and Linz came over, took a ball out of his pocket and said, "Put out your hand. This is from Roger Maris."
After that, my friends kept pushing me: "Why don't you ask him for one of his home-run bats?" Finally, when Roger was standing by the fence, I made the request. He said, "Sure. Next time I break one."
This was in 1965. The Yankees had a West Coast trip, and I was listening to their game against the Los Angeles Angels on the radio late one night, in bed, with the lights out. And Roger cracked a bat. Next morning my high school friend called me, "Did you hear Roger cracked his bat? That's your bat."
I said, "We'll see."
When the club came back to town, my friend and I went to the stadium, and during batting practice Rog walked straight over to me and said, "I've got that bat for you."
I said, "Oh, my God, I can't thank you enough."
Before the game, I went to the dugout. I stepped up to the great big policeman stationed there and poured my heart out: "You have to understand, please understand, Roger Maris told me to come here, I was supposed to pick up a bat, it's the most important thing, I wouldn't fool you, I'm not trying to pull the wool over your eyes, you gotta let me...."
" No problem. Stand over here." He knew I was telling the truth. I waited in the box-seat area to the left of the dugout, pacing and fidgeting. Then, just before game time, I couldn't stand it anymore. I hung over the rail and looked down the dimly lit ramp to the locker room, waiting for Rog to appear. When I saw him walking up the runway with a bat in his hand, I was so excited I almost fell. I don't know what he thought, seeing a kid hanging upside down, but when he handed me the bat, it was one of the most incredible moments in my young life.
I brought the bat home, and my friends said, "Now why don't you ask him for one of his home-run baseballs?"
So I asked Roger, and he said, "You're gonna have to catch one, 'cause I don't have any."
Maris was traded to the St. Louis Cardinals on December 8, 1966-a dark day for me. That year, I went off to college at the University of Akron, in Ohio. My roommate had a picture of Raquel Welch on his wall, and I had a picture of Roger Maris.
Everyone knew I was a big Maris fan. My friends said, "You say you know Roger Maris. Let's just go see." So six of us drove two and one-half hours to Pittsburgh to see the Cardinals play the Pirates. It was May 9, 1967. We got to Forbes Field two hours before the game, and there was No. 9. It was the first time I had ever seen Roger Maris outside of Yankee Stadium, and I figured he wouldn't know me in this setting. I was very nervous. Extremely nervous, because I had five guys with me. I went down to the fence, and my voice quavered: "Ah,... Roger."
He turned and said, "Andy Strasberg, what the hell are you doing in Pittsburgh?"
That was the first time I knew he knew my name. "Well, Rog, these guys from my college wanted to meet you, and I just wanted to say hello." The five of them paraded by and shook hands, and they couldn't believe it. I wished Rog good luck and he said, "Wait a minute. I want to give you an autograph on a National League ball." And he went into the dugout and got a ball and signed it. I put it in my pocket and felt like a million dollars.
In 1968, I flew to St. Louis to see Roger's last regular-season game. I got very emotional watching the proceedings at the end of the game. I was sitting behind the dugout, and Rog must have seen me because he later popped his head out and winked. It touched my heart. I was interviewed by the Sporting News, who found out I had made that trip from New York City expressly to see Roger retire. The reporter later asked Maris about me, and Roger said, "Andy Strasberg was probably my most faithful fan."
We started exchanging Christmas cards, and the relationship grew. I graduated from college and traveled the country looking for a job in baseball. When the San Diego Padres hired me, Roger wrote me a nice note of congratulations.
I got married in 1976 at home plate at Jack Murphy Stadium in San Diego. Rog and his wife, Pat, sent us a wedding gift, and we talked on the phone once or twice a year. In 1980, Roger and Pat were in Los Angeles for the All-Star Game, and that night we went out for dinner-my wife Patti, me, my dad, Roger and Pat.
When Roger died of lymphatic cancer in December 1985, I attended the funeral in Fargo, North Dakota. After the ceremony, I went to Pat and told her how sorry I felt. She hugged me, and then turned to her six children. "I want to introduce someone really special. Kids, this is Andy Strasberg." And Roger Maris Jr. said, "You're Dad's number-one fan."
There is a special relationship between fans-especially kids-and their heroes that can be almost mystical. Like that time my five college buddies and I traveled to Pittsburgh to see Roger. It's so real to me even today, yet back then it seemed like a dream.
I'm superstitious when it comes to baseball. That day I sat in Row 9, Seat 9, out in right field. In the sixth inning Roger came up to the plate and, moments later, connected solidly.
We all-my friends and I-reacted instantly to the crack of the bat. You could tell it was a homer from the solid, clean sound, and then we saw the ball flying in a rising arc like a shot fired from a cannon. Suddenly everyone realized it was heading in our direction. We all leaped to our feet, screaming, jostling for position. But I saw everything as if in slow motion; the ball came towards me like a bird about to light on a branch. I reached for it and it landed right in my hands.
It's the most amazing thing that will ever happen in my life. This was Roger's first National League home run, and I caught the ball. Tears rolled down my face. Roger came running out at the end of the inning and said, "I can't believe it." I said, "You can't? I can't!"
The chances of No. 9 hitting a home-run ball to Row 9, Seat 9 in right field on May 9, the only day I ever visited the ballpark, are almost infinitely remote. I can only explain it by saying it's magic-something that happens every so often between a fan and his hero. Something wonderful.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: On August 3, 1990, I received a phone call from Roger's son Randy and his wife Fran. They were calling from a hospital in Gainesville, Florida. Fran had just given birth to their first son. Fran and Randy wanted me to know that they named their son Andrew and asked i f I would be his godfather. To this day I still can't believe that the grandson o f my childhood hero Roger Maris is my namesake and my godson.]
Andy Strasberg
Roger Maris and Me
I grew up in the shadow of Yankee Stadium and just fell in love with baseball.
When Roger Maris came to the New York Yankees from the Kansas City Athletics in 1960, I was eleven. I had been burned in a fire in August, so I was laid up for a while and followed baseball even more closely. I remember a headline that said Roger Maris "rejuvenates" the Yankees. I had never heard the word before, but it made me think this Roger Maris was someone special.
For me, there was something about the way he swung the bat, the way he played right field and the way he looked. I had an idol. In 1961 the entire country was wrapped up in the home-run race between Maris and Mickey Mantle and Babe Ruth's ghost. I cut out every single article on Roger and told myself that when I got older and could afford it, I would have my scrapbooks professionally bound. (Eight years ago I had all of them bound into eleven volumes.)
I usually sat in Section 31, Row 162-A, Seat 1 in Yankee Stadium. Right field. I would buy a general admission ticket, but I knew the policeman, so I would switch over to the reserved seats, and that one was frequently empty.
I'd get to the stadium about two hours before it opened. I would see Roger park his car, and I would say hello and tell him what a big fan I was. After a while, he started to notice me. One day he threw me a baseball during batting practice, and I was so stunned I couldn't lift my arms. Somebody else got the ball. So Roger spoke to Phil Linz, a utility infielder, and Linz came over, took a ball out of his pocket and said, "Put out your hand. This is from Roger Maris."
After that, my friends kept pushing me: "Why don't you ask him for one of his home-run bats?" Finally, when Roger was standing by the fence, I made the request. He said, "Sure. Next time I break one."
This was in 1965. The Yankees had a West Coast trip, and I was listening to their game against the Los Angeles Angels on the radio late one night, in bed, with the lights out. And Roger cracked a bat. Next morning my high school friend called me, "Did you hear Roger cracked his bat? That's your bat."
I said, "We'll see."
When the club came back to town, my friend and I went to the stadium, and during batting practice Rog walked straight over to me and said, "I've got that bat for you."
I said, "Oh, my God, I can't thank you enough."
Before the game, I went to the dugout. I stepped up to the great big policeman stationed there and poured my heart out: "You have to understand, please understand, Roger Maris told me to come here, I was supposed to pick up a bat, it's the most important thing, I wouldn't fool you, I'm not trying to pull the wool over your eyes, you gotta let me...."
" No problem. Stand over here." He knew I was telling the truth. I waited in the box-seat area to the left of the dugout, pacing and fidgeting. Then, just before game time, I couldn't stand it anymore. I hung over the rail and looked down the dimly lit ramp to the locker room, waiting for Rog to appear. When I saw him walking up the runway with a bat in his hand, I was so excited I almost fell. I don't know what he thought, seeing a kid hanging upside down, but when he handed me the bat, it was one of the most incredible moments in my young life.
I brought the bat home, and my friends said, "Now why don't you ask him for one of his home-run baseballs?"
So I asked Roger, and he said, "You're gonna have to catch one, 'cause I don't have any."
Maris was traded to the St. Louis Cardinals on December 8, 1966-a dark day for me. That year, I went off to college at the University of Akron, in Ohio. My roommate had a picture of Raquel Welch on his wall, and I had a picture of Roger Maris.
Everyone knew I was a big Maris fan. My friends said, "You say you know Roger Maris. Let's just go see." So six of us drove two and one-half hours to Pittsburgh to see the Cardinals play the Pirates. It was May 9, 1967. We got to Forbes Field two hours before the game, and there was No. 9. It was the first time I had ever seen Roger Maris outside of Yankee Stadium, and I figured he wouldn't know me in this setting. I was very nervous. Extremely nervous, because I had five guys with me. I went down to the fence, and my voice quavered: "Ah,... Roger."
He turned and said, "Andy Strasberg, what the hell are you doing in Pittsburgh?"
That was the first time I knew he knew my name. "Well, Rog, these guys from my college wanted to meet you, and I just wanted to say hello." The five of them paraded by and shook hands, and they couldn't believe it. I wished Rog good luck and he said, "Wait a minute. I want to give you an autograph on a National League ball." And he went into the dugout and got a ball and signed it. I put it in my pocket and felt like a million dollars.
In 1968, I flew to St. Louis to see Roger's last regular-season game. I got very emotional watching the proceedings at the end of the game. I was sitting behind the dugout, and Rog must have seen me because he later popped his head out and winked. It touched my heart. I was interviewed by the Sporting News, who found out I had made that trip from New York City expressly to see Roger retire. The reporter later asked Maris about me, and Roger said, "Andy Strasberg was probably my most faithful fan."
We started exchanging Christmas cards, and the relationship grew. I graduated from college and traveled the country looking for a job in baseball. When the San Diego Padres hired me, Roger wrote me a nice note of congratulations.
I got married in 1976 at home plate at Jack Murphy Stadium in San Diego. Rog and his wife, Pat, sent us a wedding gift, and we talked on the phone once or twice a year. In 1980, Roger and Pat were in Los Angeles for the All-Star Game, and that night we went out for dinner-my wife Patti, me, my dad, Roger and Pat.
When Roger died of lymphatic cancer in December 1985, I attended the funeral in Fargo, North Dakota. After the ceremony, I went to Pat and told her how sorry I felt. She hugged me, and then turned to her six children. "I want to introduce someone really special. Kids, this is Andy Strasberg." And Roger Maris Jr. said, "You're Dad's number-one fan."
There is a special relationship between fans-especially kids-and their heroes that can be almost mystical. Like that time my five college buddies and I traveled to Pittsburgh to see Roger. It's so real to me even today, yet back then it seemed like a dream.
I'm superstitious when it comes to baseball. That day I sat in Row 9, Seat 9, out in right field. In the sixth inning Roger came up to the plate and, moments later, connected solidly.
We all-my friends and I-reacted instantly to the crack of the bat. You could tell it was a homer from the solid, clean sound, and then we saw the ball flying in a rising arc like a shot fired from a cannon. Suddenly everyone realized it was heading in our direction. We all leaped to our feet, screaming, jostling for position. But I saw everything as if in slow motion; the ball came towards me like a bird about to light on a branch. I reached for it and it landed right in my hands.
It's the most amazing thing that will ever happen in my life. This was Roger's first National League home run, and I caught the ball. Tears rolled down my face. Roger came running out at the end of the inning and said, "I can't believe it." I said, "You can't? I can't!"
The chances of No. 9 hitting a home-run ball to Row 9, Seat 9 in right field on May 9, the only day I ever visited the ballpark, are almost infinitely remote. I can only explain it by saying it's magic-something that happens every so often between a fan and his hero. Something wonderful.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: On August 3, 1990, I received a phone call from Roger's son Randy and his wife Fran. They were calling from a hospital in Gainesville, Florida. Fran had just given birth to their first son. Fran and Randy wanted me to know that they named their son Andrew and asked i f I would be his godfather. To this day I still can't believe that the grandson o f my childhood hero Roger Maris is my namesake and my godson.]
Andy Strasberg
You Drive Like A Hypocrite!
We live about 5 miles south of the small town where our children attend school. There is a ‘farm to market’ road that leads into town. The posted speed limit on the road is 55 mph. If you want to tick some people off, drive the posted speed limit. People drive like maniacs on this road, especially in the morning before school and in the afternoon when school lets out. It’s not unusual for a teenager to pull over into the opposite-bound lane to attempt to pass a string of cars, only to have to squeeze back in line because of oncoming traffic. Or to have a soccer mom, talking on a cell phone, holding a cup of coffee, driving her SUV ride your bumper until she can see enough daylight to speed around you. In recent months there have been several wrecks on this road. Three of the wrecks were on the same curve, the most recent involved a fatality. So I wrote a ‘letter to the editor’ of the local newspaper pleading for people to slow down and drive responsibly on this particular road. I felt I was as qualified as anyone to write this letter, especially since I haven’t received a speeding ticket in years. The best I can figure, is been at least 17 years since I received a traffic citation. Well, as luck would have it, two days after the letter was published I was ticketed for speeding on this very same road. When you follow the road into town it goes right through the center of town. The speed limit drops from 55mph to 45mph, then 30mph through town, or so I thought. I had just dropped the kids off at school and was headed back home. I noticed the police car parked on the opposite side of the road facing towards me. I glanced down at my speedometer and saw that I was traveling around 31mph. Cool, right? After I passed the police car I saw him turn on his lights, make a u-turn in the middle of the road, and come after me. The officer asked me if I knew what the speed limit was and I said, “yea, 30mph”. He informed me that I was in a school zone and the speed limit was 20mph during school hours. I have been driving through this town for ten years and I have never seen a 20mph sign posted anywhere. So I asked the officer if there was a 20mph sign, and he said there was. I asked him how long the speed limit had been 20mph and he told me that it had been posted 20mph since he started working there last February. I knew that was not the case, but what could I say? I’ve since found out that the sign / signs didn’t appear until a two weeks before. Oh, and one of the wrecks that I mentioned was this police officer’s 15 year-old daughter. She was driving her 2002 Eclipse without a driver’s license. But I didn’t say a word, I just accepted my ticket like a good law-breaker. But then I drove out of town looking back to see if there were any 20mph signs, I didn’t see any. I saw the yellow sign with the flashing light, which wasn’t flashing, and a silhouette of a kid playing on it, but no 20mph sign. So I drove back into town to see if there was a 20mph sign coming from the direction I was driving when I got the ticket. Sure enough, there it was, a 20mph sign mounted about 2ft off the ground underneath the yellow sign with the flashing light, which WASN’T flashing, and the silhouette of a kid playing on it that read 20mph 7:30am-4pm SCHOOL DAYS. I saw the officer parked on a side road so I pulled up beside him and pointed out that there was NO 20mph sign posted on the road that I drove into town on, and the yellow light was not flashing on the sign above the 20mph sign. The officer told me that someone must have “knocked down” the 20mph sign, and that they’ve been trying to “get the flashing light fixed”. I asked him how he could give me a ticket if the speed limit isn’t ‘clearly’ marked. He told me to “take that up with the judge”. When I went to pick the kids up from school that afternoon I noticed that there was a 20mph sign, without any specific times, posted underneath the yellow sign with the flashing light, which still wasn’t flashing, and a silhouette of a kid playing on it. So I stopped at the City Hall and went in to talk to the clerk about the sign that had miraculously appeared the same day I pointed out that there wasn’t a sign. I thought that they might try to claim that the sign had been there all along. But she acknowledged that the sign had just been put up that same day because someone had either knocked down the old sign or stolen it. So I pointed out that the new sign was mounted beneath a flashing yellow light, which would indicate that the speed limit was 20mph when the light was flashing, but the light wasn’t flashing. And the other sign, which was mounted below a flashing yellow light that wasn’t flashing also, gave specific hours. She didn’t understand what I was trying to say. So I explained to her… If you have sign mounted below a flashing light, then that means that you have to obey that speed limit when the sign was flashing. Even though the other sign gives a specific time, the yellow light above it wasn’t flashing. So if one has to obey the sign regardless of whether or not the light is flashing, then the speed limit is 20mph all the time going in one direction and 20mph only during school hours coming in the other. Not to mention the fact that the speed limit was 30mph in the opposite direction when I received my ticket. (because there was no sign) I know all this is VERY confusing, but the bottom line is……. I’M INNOCENT. I received a subpoena for The ‘Home State of Sandy the Squirrel’ vs. Maury, for Jan 10th 2005.
I hope you know, if I’m found guilty of speeding it makes me the hypocrite of all hypocrites.
Maury
I hope you know, if I’m found guilty of speeding it makes me the hypocrite of all hypocrites.
Maury
Pictures
None of the photos I posted are very recent. For some reason the Hello program didn't locate any of the pictures we have downloaded from our new camera. I'll have to figure that out later. Since those pictures were taken Jordan has grown about foot. He's as tall as I am now. Of course, my wife and I still look the same.
My wife and me
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Observations of a Newbie
I’ve been checking out all the different blogger’s sites, and I’d like to make a few observations:
1) I cannot read Chinese, Russian, French, Spanish, and several other languages that I could not determine.
2) Most bloggers seem to be a bit more ‘traveled’ than myself. I’ve been as far west as Vegas, as far north & east as Ohio, and as far south as Grand Cayman. It seems like most bloggers have backpacked across Europe and climbed Everest.
3) There are a lot of people who enjoy writing hateful things about our President.
4) I don’t know enough about computers. I’ve been trying to figure out how to post a photo on my blog for the past 2 hours. Other people have their pages have all this bling-bling and are pimped to the max. Anybody know what HTML is?
5) Kidz 2day dnt no how 2 spell! I mean pleez peeps, do not you have spl chk?
6) There are a lot of advertisement blogs.
Just a few of the things that jumped out at me.
1) I cannot read Chinese, Russian, French, Spanish, and several other languages that I could not determine.
2) Most bloggers seem to be a bit more ‘traveled’ than myself. I’ve been as far west as Vegas, as far north & east as Ohio, and as far south as Grand Cayman. It seems like most bloggers have backpacked across Europe and climbed Everest.
3) There are a lot of people who enjoy writing hateful things about our President.
4) I don’t know enough about computers. I’ve been trying to figure out how to post a photo on my blog for the past 2 hours. Other people have their pages have all this bling-bling and are pimped to the max. Anybody know what HTML is?
5) Kidz 2day dnt no how 2 spell! I mean pleez peeps, do not you have spl chk?
6) There are a lot of advertisement blogs.
Just a few of the things that jumped out at me.
Let's Get One Thing Straight
Religion has been the dividing factor for countries, races, and even families for thousands of years. Millions of people have died for what they believe. Ever wonder why? It’s because if someone truly believes what their ‘religion’ teaches them, then anyone who believes differently is mistaken at the cost of their soul. Them there are fightin’ words! People don’t like to be told that they are destined for eternal damnation because their ‘god’ isn’t the real ‘God’.
I’m a Christian who believes that Jesus Christ was born to a virgin mother, walked the Earth amongst us, lived a sinless life, died on the cross for my sins, and was raised from the dead on the third day, just like the Old Testament prophets said it would happen. I believe that the only way to the Father (God) is through Jesus the son. (Jesus = God) I believe that Faith is the key to Christianity. What is Faith? Faith is giving everything to something without expecting anything in return. I’m saved by the Grace of God, not because I’m a good person. Quite the contrary, I’m a sinner, no different than every other man. It’s because of God’s forgiveness of sin, through a repentant heart, that I am saved. Unfortunately, I believe that if someone is trying to reach the ‘holy’ place by any other means that through Christ, then they are a lost soul. If I had written these words a century ago, or longer, I would have been just another ‘Believer’. But because we live in an ‘all-inclusive’ world today I’m seen as an elitist. Do I sometimes struggle with my faith? Of course, I do. I often rely upon my flesh to logically explain things. Let’s face it, it isn’t logical to believe that there is a ‘Creator’ of the universe. It doesn’t make sense to believe that a child could be born of a virgin, or a man raised from the dead. Or does it? Recently, British philosophy professor and atheist Antony Flew acknowledged that there probably was a ‘Creator’, based on scientific evidence. While he still calls himself a deist, and says that there is no controlling God, he says it’s more logical to believe that the universe was created, rather than ‘just happened’. Well, he’s getting closer. You see, the smarter we think we are the harder it is for us to acknowledge that some things just can’t be explained. You must first accept that Man is not the Supreme Being.
I know that I’ve rambled off some serious stuff, but now you know where I stand. I promise I’m not going to cram my beliefs down anyone’s throat to try to change them. I’ll do that by relaying just how great God has been to me.
Maury
I’m a Christian who believes that Jesus Christ was born to a virgin mother, walked the Earth amongst us, lived a sinless life, died on the cross for my sins, and was raised from the dead on the third day, just like the Old Testament prophets said it would happen. I believe that the only way to the Father (God) is through Jesus the son. (Jesus = God) I believe that Faith is the key to Christianity. What is Faith? Faith is giving everything to something without expecting anything in return. I’m saved by the Grace of God, not because I’m a good person. Quite the contrary, I’m a sinner, no different than every other man. It’s because of God’s forgiveness of sin, through a repentant heart, that I am saved. Unfortunately, I believe that if someone is trying to reach the ‘holy’ place by any other means that through Christ, then they are a lost soul. If I had written these words a century ago, or longer, I would have been just another ‘Believer’. But because we live in an ‘all-inclusive’ world today I’m seen as an elitist. Do I sometimes struggle with my faith? Of course, I do. I often rely upon my flesh to logically explain things. Let’s face it, it isn’t logical to believe that there is a ‘Creator’ of the universe. It doesn’t make sense to believe that a child could be born of a virgin, or a man raised from the dead. Or does it? Recently, British philosophy professor and atheist Antony Flew acknowledged that there probably was a ‘Creator’, based on scientific evidence. While he still calls himself a deist, and says that there is no controlling God, he says it’s more logical to believe that the universe was created, rather than ‘just happened’. Well, he’s getting closer. You see, the smarter we think we are the harder it is for us to acknowledge that some things just can’t be explained. You must first accept that Man is not the Supreme Being.
I know that I’ve rambled off some serious stuff, but now you know where I stand. I promise I’m not going to cram my beliefs down anyone’s throat to try to change them. I’ll do that by relaying just how great God has been to me.
Maury
The Cheerleaders Ate Your Babies (aussie accent)
I used to have two alert, easy to communicate with little girls for daughters. But that has all changed since they began competitive cheerleading. Several months ago they started taking tumbling & cheer lessons at CTA (Corsicana Tumbling Academy). They were asked to join the competitive cheer squads for their individual age group. Well, that was the beginning of what I call the ‘brainwashing’. I like to call the place STA (Stepford Tumbling Academy) instead of CTA. They’ve managed to turn my little girls into cheerbots. They cannot walk across the living room like normal girls, they have to do a cartwheel, round off, flip-flop to get across the room. They spend a large amount of their time either upside-down or creating their own cheer routines. And if that’s not enough, they have to dress the part to do the routines, even at home. It’s not uncommon for them to cake on the make-up and glitter just to practice their cheers. (That’s another issue, which I will address shortly.) Everything is done in cadence, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…….. Get the picture? On the positive side, they are very good at what they do. It’s amazing to watch what these young kids can do. They have been in two competitions so far this season (would that be cheer season?) and my youngest daughter’s team has won both, while my oldest daughter’s team finished a respectable 2nd and 4th. Their instructors are members of the Navarro College cheerleading squad, who has won the small college National Championship the past two years. (that’s cheer championship, not football) Being a member of the CTA squads pretty much guarantees them a spot on the high school cheerleading squad. That leads me to the problems I have with them being ‘cheerleaders’. Right now it’s cute to watch them get out there and perform, doing what you normally only see older kids doing. But when they get older I don’t want them to dance around half naked in front of bleachers filled with dirty minded men. My wife doesn’t understand this, but even the most righteous of men will be tempted when an attractive young girl, who is fully developed, dances around showing their stuff. Not only do I not want men lusting after my daughters, but also I don’t want my daughters being responsible for causing men to be tempted. What is sad, is that the world we live in today sees absolutely nothing wrong with showing a ‘little’ flesh. But I feel that I should be able to watch a football game (Super Bowl) or turn on the TV without being sexually tempted. When my girls put on their ‘war paint’ I don’t even recognize them. They look like Vegas showgirls. (will be posting pics in the near future) In CTA’s defense, they are the most conservative squads that I have seen so far. They don’t show any mid-section and they wear long-sleeves with turtlenecks with their official uniforms. I’ve seen squads with 8-10 year old girls wearing next to nothing. And when they perform, they do moves reserved for the likes of the Laker Girls. You can use cheerleading to get yourself a college degree, which is nice, but isn’t that the ultimate goal of a cheerleader? To become a professional cheerleader like the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, Laker Girls, etc…. Have you seen the way these girls dress? They aren’t famous for their “cheers” if you know what I mean. I guess what I’m saying is, as long as they continue to dress appropriately, and don’t parade around in front of drunken football fans, then it’s okay for them to be cheerleaders. But isn’t that what a cheerleader is supposed to do? If you’re not cheering for a football game, then what’s the point of cheering? What a messed up world we live in.
This is the tortured world of a conservative Christian father.
This is the tortured world of a conservative Christian father.
Just A Start
About ME:
Personal Stuff: I’m a 39 year-old father of three. My wife and I have been married for 17ish years. We started dating when I was a senior in high school, and my wife a freshman. We were married the week after my wife graduated from high school. We’re happily married and have been blessed with three wonderful, healthy children. Having said that, I’m strongly suggesting that my children wait until they’re a bit older before getting married, it would make things so much easier for them.
Important Stuff: My life has been a journey that has lead me to where I am today. (of course, anyone can say that) I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to find what makes me happy, as do most people. I’ve partied, drank, chased the almighty dollar, and ran around on my wife. So when I say that I am “blessed” to have such a wonderful wife, I actually mean that I am “blessed” to STILL have such a wonderful wife. No matter how hard I looked there was still something missing, something that I couldn’t find. I spent all that time looking, when it was something that had been with me all along. Since I’ve decided to start living my life the way the Bible instructs me to live I’ve found all the answers. Every need that I have tried to meet has been met. My relationship with Jesus Christ is the most important thing in my life. I’ve found that the more I give to Him, the more He gives in return. I don’t understand why, but He continues to shower my family and I with his love. Life is too short to not appreciate all that you have been given. You’ll be hearing more about my Faith in the future, I promise.
My Job: I work for a major steel manufacturer in Texas where I am a chemistry analyst. I’ve been with the same company for almost 12 years now. I love my job, at least I love what it is I do. I’m not too crazy about my schedule. Because steel is melted around the clock, I am required to work a rotating shift. I only work 14 12-hour shifts per month, and I get a full 8 days in a row off each month. That’s the good part. The bad part is that I can’t stand working nights and weekends. My job tends to interfere with my kid’s ballgames and church activities. But at least I’m in a clean environment with lots of free time and internet access! My previous job was in the aircraft industry. I build parts for the B-2 Stealth bomber. But that job came to a halt in ’92 when Clinton took office and cut defense spending. Or, you could blame it on Reagan for ending the Cold War.
Hobbies: I don’t really have time for a lot of hobbies, between my job and 3 kids. But I do like to run. I’ve been running on and off my whole life. While I was a sprinter when I was younger, I’ve adapted to running distance. I had been training for the Freescale / Motorola Marathon in Austin next Feb. until injury / illness put an end to my dreams. I had been training to run the 26.2 fast enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon. My injuries are gone now, but I’ve lost too much precious training time. I was up to 45-50 miles per week, with a long run of 14 miles, before my injury / illness. I say ‘injury / illness’ because I was injured for a week, re-injured for a week, then sick for a week. You try recovering from that!!!
Politics: I’m just a little bit to the right of Pat Buchanan. You’ll be hearing a lot about my political views, this will be my platform. Unfortunately for my friends and family, politics & religion are my two favorite subjects. I guess you could throw college football in there too. I was a talk radio junkie when talk radio wasn’t cool.
My Kids: My son Jordan (12) is my best friend. Seriously, when I gave up drinking and started going to church (for real) I lost most of my old friends. But I was lucky because my son has been there for me. He is a very special kid. We’ve heard several stories about how kind he is to his fellow students. He runs around with the ‘popular’ crowd, yet shows compassion to all his classmates. He’s smart (A’s), good looking (like his father), Athletic (like his father), and a Christian. Thank you, Lord!
My daughter Macie (11) is the perfect kid. She’s the one who cleans her room when you tell her to the FIRST time. She has a very tender soul. You have to be careful what you say to her because even the little things tend to hurt her feelings. (did I mention she’s reaching puberty?) She is very hard to hold, literally. You have to chase her down just to get a hug out of her. When I tuck her in, it’s a high-five. She’s had terrible luck when it comes to losing things she loves. When she was in second grade her best friend was killed in a car wreck. Every animal (except Woody – more on him later) she has owned has died. She’s beautiful (like her mother), smart (A’s), athletic, and a Christian. Thank you, Lord!
My daughter McKenzie (8) is a piece of work. She is the stereotypical “baby” of the family. She is the most strong willed child I have ever seen. With her blonde hair and big blue eyes, she knows that she can get whatever she wants, especially from her mother. She is always willing to hop up in my lap and give me all the sugars daddy wants. Trouble is, you don’t know if she’s there because she wants you to do something or not. We had it made…… We had a boy, then a girl, then we had Kenzi. God bless her, she’s a wonderful child, and cute as a button. I have to admit, I’m a little worried about when she becomes a teenager.
Woody is our Chihuahua. He’s not your average ‘shaky’ Chihuahua. Woody is very calm and the perfect ‘lap’ dog. Pleas Lord, don’t let anything happen to Woody when I’m the only one at home! I’m always afraid that I’m going to let him out to go to the restroom (we live in the country) and he’s not going to come back. Woody and Macie are inseparable. He’ll settle for anyone, but he’ll always pick Macie to cuddle with.
You’ll be hearing more from me later.
Maury
Personal Stuff: I’m a 39 year-old father of three. My wife and I have been married for 17ish years. We started dating when I was a senior in high school, and my wife a freshman. We were married the week after my wife graduated from high school. We’re happily married and have been blessed with three wonderful, healthy children. Having said that, I’m strongly suggesting that my children wait until they’re a bit older before getting married, it would make things so much easier for them.
Important Stuff: My life has been a journey that has lead me to where I am today. (of course, anyone can say that) I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to find what makes me happy, as do most people. I’ve partied, drank, chased the almighty dollar, and ran around on my wife. So when I say that I am “blessed” to have such a wonderful wife, I actually mean that I am “blessed” to STILL have such a wonderful wife. No matter how hard I looked there was still something missing, something that I couldn’t find. I spent all that time looking, when it was something that had been with me all along. Since I’ve decided to start living my life the way the Bible instructs me to live I’ve found all the answers. Every need that I have tried to meet has been met. My relationship with Jesus Christ is the most important thing in my life. I’ve found that the more I give to Him, the more He gives in return. I don’t understand why, but He continues to shower my family and I with his love. Life is too short to not appreciate all that you have been given. You’ll be hearing more about my Faith in the future, I promise.
My Job: I work for a major steel manufacturer in Texas where I am a chemistry analyst. I’ve been with the same company for almost 12 years now. I love my job, at least I love what it is I do. I’m not too crazy about my schedule. Because steel is melted around the clock, I am required to work a rotating shift. I only work 14 12-hour shifts per month, and I get a full 8 days in a row off each month. That’s the good part. The bad part is that I can’t stand working nights and weekends. My job tends to interfere with my kid’s ballgames and church activities. But at least I’m in a clean environment with lots of free time and internet access! My previous job was in the aircraft industry. I build parts for the B-2 Stealth bomber. But that job came to a halt in ’92 when Clinton took office and cut defense spending. Or, you could blame it on Reagan for ending the Cold War.
Hobbies: I don’t really have time for a lot of hobbies, between my job and 3 kids. But I do like to run. I’ve been running on and off my whole life. While I was a sprinter when I was younger, I’ve adapted to running distance. I had been training for the Freescale / Motorola Marathon in Austin next Feb. until injury / illness put an end to my dreams. I had been training to run the 26.2 fast enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon. My injuries are gone now, but I’ve lost too much precious training time. I was up to 45-50 miles per week, with a long run of 14 miles, before my injury / illness. I say ‘injury / illness’ because I was injured for a week, re-injured for a week, then sick for a week. You try recovering from that!!!
Politics: I’m just a little bit to the right of Pat Buchanan. You’ll be hearing a lot about my political views, this will be my platform. Unfortunately for my friends and family, politics & religion are my two favorite subjects. I guess you could throw college football in there too. I was a talk radio junkie when talk radio wasn’t cool.
My Kids: My son Jordan (12) is my best friend. Seriously, when I gave up drinking and started going to church (for real) I lost most of my old friends. But I was lucky because my son has been there for me. He is a very special kid. We’ve heard several stories about how kind he is to his fellow students. He runs around with the ‘popular’ crowd, yet shows compassion to all his classmates. He’s smart (A’s), good looking (like his father), Athletic (like his father), and a Christian. Thank you, Lord!
My daughter Macie (11) is the perfect kid. She’s the one who cleans her room when you tell her to the FIRST time. She has a very tender soul. You have to be careful what you say to her because even the little things tend to hurt her feelings. (did I mention she’s reaching puberty?) She is very hard to hold, literally. You have to chase her down just to get a hug out of her. When I tuck her in, it’s a high-five. She’s had terrible luck when it comes to losing things she loves. When she was in second grade her best friend was killed in a car wreck. Every animal (except Woody – more on him later) she has owned has died. She’s beautiful (like her mother), smart (A’s), athletic, and a Christian. Thank you, Lord!
My daughter McKenzie (8) is a piece of work. She is the stereotypical “baby” of the family. She is the most strong willed child I have ever seen. With her blonde hair and big blue eyes, she knows that she can get whatever she wants, especially from her mother. She is always willing to hop up in my lap and give me all the sugars daddy wants. Trouble is, you don’t know if she’s there because she wants you to do something or not. We had it made…… We had a boy, then a girl, then we had Kenzi. God bless her, she’s a wonderful child, and cute as a button. I have to admit, I’m a little worried about when she becomes a teenager.
Woody is our Chihuahua. He’s not your average ‘shaky’ Chihuahua. Woody is very calm and the perfect ‘lap’ dog. Pleas Lord, don’t let anything happen to Woody when I’m the only one at home! I’m always afraid that I’m going to let him out to go to the restroom (we live in the country) and he’s not going to come back. Woody and Macie are inseparable. He’ll settle for anyone, but he’ll always pick Macie to cuddle with.
You’ll be hearing more from me later.
Maury
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Oh, boy! Here I go.......
I've had a passion for expressing myself on the internet before, several years ago when online diaries were just beginning. Although I haven't done it in a while, I still find myself thinking 'I'd like to write about that'. Well, now I will. You'll find I'm WAY too conservative for most. But I'm also way too sarcastic to make up for it.
later,
Maury
later,
Maury
