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I Am My Stories, So Are You

10/21/2025

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Where to start? I may be going too far back into my personal history, but this is such a great story and it may explain why I eventually learned to respect some of my professors who I had at one point thought were frustratingly apathetic.  I take no pride in admitting that. 

We were on site, working a salvage dig when some old guys, very old guys walked up an started giving us pointers on things like microleveling, how to see when and why the color of the soil was changing, etc.  I listened politely and actually learned a few things, but wasn't as impressed as I should hav e been.  Some of my fellow undergraduates got snotty.  The PhD in charge called them to the van and gave them a talking to.  Later on, I found out why.  Those men were the few remaining WPA/CCC archaeologists who had been sent out to excavate burial mounds and habitation sites long before universities in Tennessee and Kentucky even had anthropology programs. They might not have the letters after their names, but they had the experience and know-how to show us how to do our jobs.  

Not every bit of disciplinary wisdom is found in a classroom. 

Fast forward to years ago, I was a contributing editor at an online sports outlet, our editor-in-chief used to ask all of us to offer some words of advice to the rookies coming onboard just ahead of the preseason events we'd be sending them out to cover.  There were about a dozen of us, so the views were pretty diverse. Since most of us were around since the days that the site was a smallish literary backwater where we were encouraged to "avoid box scores and game recaps and write about what we loved about the sport," it was interesting to see how we all saw our jobs almost a decade later.

The first year, (Was there a second?  Time flies...*) I thought hard about what I'd say that would be of any use to someone new to this milieu.  Then it hit me.  So here's what I wrote:

"Think of fans as both your toughest critics and your best editorial voice.  Every one of them thinks they can do your job better than you can.  A few might be able to, but most know deep down writing does not come easily to everyone, no matter how much they love the subject. There are many who may have forgotten more about the sport and the team than you will ever know.  Give them respect and pay attention.  They love what you love and want you to succeed in conveying that love to your readers. "

In a way, an email I received yesterday brings all of that full circle.  It comes as surprise for the simple reason that I was pretty convinced no one was reading this website.   Here's the letter:

"Why r u wasting this space? No1curr. Ur posts r full of typos n you write like a idiot."

Well, aren't you a delight? He or she or they do have a point.  There are too many typos and if this isn't your cup of tea, well, it just isn't.  Could you do my job better than me?  It comes down to you, dear reader, who might check to be sure there are no typos and me, the person who owns this website, and who just wants to tell my stories and get on with my day.  It does make me wonder about people who have this much free time and spend it on things that seem to make them mad. 

For example,**  I follow politics like an responsible citizen.  Still, I know when I'm headed to outrage overload.  That's when I click on Merv or NerdECrafter or one of a half dozen fun Youtube channels that help me hit reset. Y'all might have the energy and free time to rage watch.  Okay, you do you. 

As for why I am doing this?  In part, gathering my stories helps me to recover myself and sharpens my meager writing skills. I am my stories. So are you. Instead of being mad at me. Try writing down your own memories.  Releasing them to the ether of the net or the pages of a journal is one way of using memory to lay claim to who you are.  It is a personal Rosetta Stone that can unlock where you have been and point to where you need to go next.  It can also release these bits and pieces and make room for what is to come. Long story short,*** I do this for me.  if it makes you smile, well, as comedian, Rich Fulcher might say, that's gravy. 
 

*like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. Sorry, I couldn't resist.  And stick taps to S. J. Perelman. 
**Another one? Really?  
***Too late.  -The Cast of Clue
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Not Them!

10/14/2025

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Yesterday, I met with my new PCP and her staff.  They are part of a faith-based medical group.  I mentioned to my mother that there was a crucifix over the door of the exam room and framed Bible verses on the reception desk.  For me, this is not a big deal.  In fact, it's a comforting reminder that God has my back.  She agreed.  

We couldn't help but wonder about non-Christians who visited this clinic.  Was the religious imagery off-putting?  Did they even notice?  If they did, was it seen as a case of what some social science types refer to as ambient Protestantism in the southeastern US.  In the interest of disclosure, I tend to avoid other kinds of businesses that include fish or crosses in their signage or promotional material. Those emblems seem to hide a multitude of sins I'd prefer to avoid. Yet I was okay with my doctor's office having a cross over the door. 

Should I be okay with this?  I want to be.  I also know one of the perks of living in a big city is there are options for people seeking healthcare. Moreover, there is a part of me that says it should be okay to have faith-based environments among the choices offered.  I want to feel comfortable being open about my faith just as I want other people who desire the opposite to be comfortably free from faith.  I was taught that religionn and politics were not fodder for polite conversation in public. Can there be a middle ground? ​
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October 05th, 2025

10/5/2025

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Picture
My birthday (October 4th) is the best one on the Christian calendar. October 4th is recognized by a chunk of my part of the Mosaic Triad as the ascension day of Saint Francis of Assisi. This means -wait for it!- Animals in church! 

Work and the vagaries of life mean I often have to celebrate my birthday more as a birth week. Things have been busy for a number of reasons.  Most of my celebrating will be done in the days to come. Enough about that except to show one of my favorite bits from The Vicar of Dibley below.

We lost Jane Goodall earlier this week. She was a hero and a role model and even though it's hard to say, "Rest" amd leave it at that, we have an obligation to do so.  She was a source of goodwill and delight in creation who served as a model for how we need to approach all, and I do mean all of our fellow earthlings.  I cried.  The last person I don't know I cried over was Pope Rocky, oops, Pope Francis.  I like Pope Leo, but Francis was the start of me feeling hopeful again. 

Then I cried when I saw the news this morning.  This time it was happy tears. We have a new Archbishop of Canterbury. We need her so much right now!   And yes, we still need Jane Goodall and people like her.  What we need to remember is this is not about dropping our resolve to continue to make the world a better place. This is about doubling down on filling the people-shaped holes they left in our lives.

ᏅᏩᏙᎯᏯᏓ​, ειρήνη, Pax, Paz, 平和 , Peace, Pais, سلام , Frieden, שלום, Pace, мир, 和平, शांति, Amani, Barış, 평화
​Jas 

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