Watch Your Finger

Pic 226

Skirt Watches Dress

I'm seeing these letters too much lately. Mostly in caps though.

Companionship on the Fourth

Fun on the Fourth

Steve McNair, from the archives

Here's from something I wrote about Steve McNair a few years ago:

Ever since watching him put up 336 yards in the 1999 season opener (while being booed by fans, incredulously), I have been a fan of number 9. Before that day, I had marked myself as a fan only of a team and not a player. I knew that players came and went too often for me to put my loyalty behind someone who likely wouldn't be on the team for any coming season. And so I was determined to not buy player jerseys, only team specific merchandise. For two seasons, I was true to my words. I watched the Oilers play in Memphis in 1997 and I watched them play in Nashville at Vanderbilt in 1998, and I hardly bothered to learn the names of the players. I rooted for my home team and that was that.

Then, 1999 came. My wife and I took our seats in what was called Adelphia Coliseum at the time. I was in my Titans cap and ready for another fun NFL game. I was ready to watch my team. But on the field that day, Steve McNair was on fire. He threw for over 300 yards and I think three touchdowns. I think his scrambling might have confused many fans, who started booing him as he was playing to catch up with the winning Bengals. All he was doing was putting up yards and points; our struggling defense was the only reason that Cincinnati was winning. And as we found ourselves down by two with about a minute to go in the game, Steve McNair moved the offense up the field, proving wrong his doubters, and got his team in position for a beautiful last second Al Del Greco field goal. With the first game in the books, the Tennessee Titans were 1-0 and on their way to a terrific season, one where we would play in the Super Bowl on the merits of a 13-3 record.

Before the second game of the season, yours truly was wearing a Steve McNair jersey, a fan of a player, going against my game plan. I knew that one day, he'd probably be on another team. It happens all of the time. But there was something about him that was the team.

Feels Like My Theme Song Some Days

Listening to this, I miss my old copy of Arc.

Lifts My Mood

Thinking About Bloggers I Admire

I held back tonight from posting something more long-winded and of the vulnerable variety. I spent a long time typing out its words, but I'll let it live in drafts for a bit and maybe share it later.

Instead, I'll just take this late night moment to say that I'm listening to Bob Dylan's Blood On The Tracks and The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. "Girl From The North Country" sounds so peaceful and breezy, doesn't it? I'm thinking of Melissa whose blog is named after that song and hoping that she is well. What she shares in pictures and in words never fails to make me happy and/or ponderous.

Also, reminded of another sweet and dreamy blogger, I read a small piece on Asheville's David Wilcox in the Scene tonight. I learned from the short bit that he "recorded his last album in an airstream trailer, while living a carefree, nomadic life with his wife and son." I hope that Holly gets her wish and finds herself someday "owning a coffee shop and an Airstream somewhere in the Appalachians."

Peace to all of my friends. Who's doing what on the fourth? We're considering a trip to East Nashville for the 2009 Music City Hot Chicken Festival in the afternoon and then who knows what for fireworks later. We're available for Tweet-ups or meet-ups or whatever Internet folks like us call being social these days.

Sammie in the Summer

By The Pool

The annual post about my shaved head.

Every summer for the last few years, I've shaved my head when it started to get hot. I've never kept it shaved though letting it grow back to a full head of hair just in time for autumn. No one ever really likes it, including my wife. Truth be known I've never really cared for the look either, but something about a head of sweaty hair bugs me so much that I'm always cool with it.

This year is the first time that I've gotten random compliments from coworkers and friends. I kind of liked it, too. The big surprise, however, was last night when my wife noticed that my hair was growing out pretty fast and admitted that she liked my shaved look for the first time ever. I'm not sure what's so different about it this year. Maybe as I age my face is getting a bit rounder which complements this certain appearance.

Anyway, for the first summer ever, I've not only shaved my head, but I'm keeping the clippers close at hand to keep it like this for at least the next couple of months.

Have a great day and thanks for stopping by.

(More than) 100 Years of Beziats in America

While making my kids their lunches today, I pretended that I was a French chef named Michel who was happy to have them as my customers. They always get a big kick out of it and make me laugh as they pretend right along. At one point I tasted Joshua's food for him and with a kiss to my fingertips told him that it was decidedly delectable. He replied by asking what that word meant as he only spoke English. Cracked me up.

I then remembered how several years ago I found records of my great-grandfather's first trip to America thanks to EllisIsland.org. I stayed in character and asked the kids to follow me to the laptop where I would tell them about a man named Andre and ask them if they had ever heard of him. Through equal parts silliness and curiosity we determined that their father's name was Michael, his father's name was Richard, Richard's father was Henry, and Henry's father was Andre. Andre Beziat, as records show, first sailed to America in 1909 on a ship called La Gascogne.

[It's at this point that I took a second look at the passenger records and saw that 1909 wasn't Andre's first visit to America but rather his second. So much for "100 Years of Beziats in America." I really liked that title but I'm 16 years too late on that one. His first visit was in 1893 on a ship that departed from Rotterdam, Holland when he was a resident of the small town of Ruurlo. Subsequent trips were from Le Havre, France. I recommend the site to anyone whose ancestors came through Ellis Island. You can view ship manifests complete with the signatures of the passengers and also photographs of the ships. I'd love to purchase these documents for myself and as a gift to family members.]

Still the French chef, the kids told me about the poster of the Eiffel Tower that was in their apartment back in Tennessee. I told them that it was interesting that they had an image of that iconic structure in their home as I had a poster of their Statue of Liberty on a wall in my chateau. Of course, they were from Nashville so maybe I should have told them that I had a picture of their "Batman building" instead.

Enough writing for now. Chef Michel must make his famous formula in a bottle for his youngest customer, Mademoiselle Samantha Beziat.

It's good to be the passenger.

I can take lots of, um, experimental pictures while someone else does the driving.