“Grandfathers”

Over the past few months I’ve had the pleasure of chatting several times with Bing Tyus about his grandfather, Tower Stevens (Yesteryear Bing Tyus – Part II). And this past Sunday I spent some time with Bing at the ole Stevens home place south of Graceville.

It is clear to me that Bing has a very special place in his heart for his granddad and the ole Stevens home place. I can see the sparkle in his eyes when he reminisces about the good times he spent with his grandfather and about his plans to return to the ole home place to live. I know that we are not supposed to be envious of other folks, but I must confess that I envy Bing and that sparkle in his eyes. You see while the Lord has blessed me in more ways than I can count, I never knew either one of my grandfathers. My mother’s father died almost 20 years before I was born. My father’s father died when I was one year old.

I have thought about this fact on more than one occasion and also the fact that none of my kids have known either of their grandfathers. Both my father and my wife’s father died before any of our kids were born. All this pondering also got me to doing a little digging in my family tree and what I found was alarming.

I can trace my paternal family tree back for six generations and my digging revealed that the last four generations have been deprived of knowing their respective grandfathers. I don’t know about the fifth and six generations, but I know for sure that neither I, my children, my father or my father’s father knew our paternal grandfathers. My Jackson County math tells me those four generations of not knowing their paternal grandfathers spans 120 years and counting.

While I don’t lose sleep over this, nor am I in counseling or on medication because of this fact, it is something that bothers me. And for several obvious reasons, I am hoping that this unfortunate trend doesn’t continue with my children’s kids. Both for my sake and their sake, I’m hoping to be the first Cox grandfather in a long time for the next generation of Cox kids.

Granddads are special and, as attested by the Bing Tyus Part II story, can have a life long impact on their grandchildren. They can have the kind of impact that leaves a sparkle in the grandchildren’s eyes when they talk about grandpa. If you have known your grandfather and have had that kind of relationship, you’ve been blessed. If not, like me and my children, we must settle for looking to the future. Simply Put, I hope the Lord lets me live long enough to break the past trend in my family and to be a “Tower Stevens” kind of granddad.

From the Front Porch: Uncle Bob said the best armor is to keep out of range.

“A Tri-Athlete I Am Not”

After covering last year’s Freedom Springs Triathlon at Blue Springs I set a goal to do the race in 2010. Participants swim ¼ of a mile, bike 10 miles and then run 3.1 miles. I had done the race at age 35 and then again at age 45. So I figured that setting a goal to do it again at age 50 would be a good motivator to get me exercising.

I showed up ready to roll this past Monday morning. When I arrived I was once again reminded of several factors which clearly demonstrate that I would not be considered the prototype tri-athlete.

The first clue was my waist line. You don’t see very many overweight tri-athletes. Most tri-athletes aren’t packing any “love handles”. According to my doctor, and his weight charts, my love affair with food has put me squarely in the overweight category.

The second clue was my bicycle. Most tri-athletes showed up with these aerodynamic bicycles that are designed strictly for speed. I showed up with my cruising bike that features my number one cycling priority these days, an extra wide padded seat.

The third clue was my outfit and color scheme. Most tri-athletes wear a type of wet suit designed for swimming, biking and running. They look a little like the old spandex outfits and these “body gloves” leave nothing to the imagination. And for some reason almost all the outfits are black. I am not sure if black outfits make you faster, but I kept looking to see if Johnny Cash had made an appearance.

I will confess that I did have on a pair of these new fangled running undershorts. The label said they’re a large, but I looked like I’ve been poured into them. So I wore a swim suit over them so that folks wouldn’t talk about the old fat guy in the back of the pack. My color scheme was all wrong too. My swim suit was light blue and my biking/running shirt was yellow. So instead of a tri-athlete, I looked like I was a UCLA Bruin fan.

The last and most telling clue was my performance. I finished dead last. My final time of just over one hour and 59 minutes was slow enough that several gentlemen in their 70’s smoked me. And wouldn’t you know it, there was Royce Reagan capturing me on film for all eternity, crossing the finishing line in last place.

But for that last ½ mile of the run I switched my MP3 player to Lynard Skynard’s “Call Me The Breeze” and kicked it into high gear. So while my athletic ego didn’t get any boost and I won’t be appearing on any Tri-Athlete magazines covers, I did finish. And I did so without having to stop or walk. Simply Put, I accomplished my goal and, for me, that was what it was all about.
From the Front Porch: Uncle Bob said the best way to always remember your wife’s birthday is to forget it once.

“Primitive”

On page B4 is a feature titled Out and About…Tugaloo Lake. This is a lake that my oldest son Taylor and I went camping at last weekend. As I indicate in the article, primitive means that your shelter is a tent and there is no electricity, water, bathrooms or anything remotely considered to be a modern convenience.

And of course without electricity, or a generator, that means no air conditioning or fans, which is tough for an old fat fellow like myself during the summer months. And I will acknowledge that my days of sleeping on the ground are long gone. An air mattress and air pump are at the top of my list of camping gear.

Every now and then folks will ask me why I still like to go on these trips. I must confess that on nights, like last Friday night, when I was sitting in my tent with a thunder storm brewing outside and the inside being somewhat of a sweat lodge, I even ask myself these questions.

But then the sun will come out the next morning, the sky turns blue and a beautiful day in the outdoors is had. The night comes and miraculously the humidity takes a short vacation. A camp fire is built along the edge of the river bank. A father and a son spend some down time along side a river’s edge with a camp fire. A working man gets away from all the phones, complaints, dead lines, projects and hassles that come with making a living.

It reminds me of the commercials. Like the one that says “It doesn’t get any better than this” or the one that list a price of various items and then on the last items list it as …priceless. We all need to find our ways to unwind, relax or just get away. And there are many different ways folks enjoy doing that. And roughing it is not the only way that I enjoy unwinding or relaxing.

But going on these periodic excursions of roughing it or primitive camping offer something to me that takes me back to my youth. That sense of getting outdoors, back to nature or that sense of exploration. I know that may sound silly to some folks but hey I’m a guy that loves to read about Lewis and Clark’s exploring the newly purchased Louisanna Territory in the early 1800’s. I am the guy, and apparently I’m not alone, that likes to watch all these survivor man shows even though about half of it is fake.

So if I take a trip every now and then that falls into the roughing it category, don’t think that I’ve lost my mind. Just know that for me, Simply Put, going primitive once in a while has it’s purpose for me.



From the Front Porch: Uncle Bob said he is ready to christen anyone a true genius who can adjust the thermostat to suit his wife.

“Coming Home”

I’ve often heard it said, and you probably have to, that our young folks have to leave Jackson County to find good paying jobs. It is said, and it’s fairly accurate that our rural county does not have a lot of industry and that forces our young folks to have to move away to set up shop so to speak. In all of these comments and thoughts it is almost implied that to be “successful” one must move away from our fair little community.

I won’t dispute that well paying jobs or highly skilled industry are not in abundance in Jackson County. But in this week’s Times our Yesteryear feature is about a young man from our county who went off to school, got a law degree and has returned to Jackson County to hang out his shingle.

As I talked with Ladray Gilbert about why he chose to return to Jackson County it once again reminded me of the choices that we all have to make about where we are going to live our lives and what factors go into making those decisions.

It reminded me of that time in my life when I left Jackson County to live in far off Tallahassee. And while Tallahassee was a good place to live, for me and my wife it was not home. So after six years of city life we made the decision to move back home. That was almost 20 years ago. I know that Jackson County is not a perfect place and yes there are occasions when I allow my mind to wonder about how our lives would have been different if we had stayed in Tallahassee. But I know without any hesitation that it was the right decision for our family.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not knocking those folks that chose to leave and not return to live here for economic reasons. I have friends that likely would not be able to make the same kind of living in their chosen field if they lived in Jackson County. Some would not even be able to make any kind of living if they lived here. Moving home meant some sacrifices for us. My wife’s degree in Interior Design was almost useless in Jackson County. She had to work out of her field and while doing so went back to school to get a degree in counseling and psychology. My sacrifices were much less dramatic. I simply had to live without a good chicken wing restaurant and my USTA tennis league.

My point is that we all have choices to make and some have made the choice to move away while some of us have made the choice to live in Jackson County. So in my book you don’t have to leave Jackson County to make a living. Simply Put, a person can choose to stay or come home and still live the good life.



From the Front Porch: Coach said don’t corner something that you know is meaner than you.

“The Sea King Is Back”

In June of 1978 a major miracle occurred. Somehow, someway my 18 year journey through Jackson County’s school system culminated with my graduation from high school. My parents were so elated, or surprised, they asked what’d I like for a graduation present. I knew better than to ask for a new car, so instead I requested a boat.

My wish was granted when for $375 dollars my dad bought a used 14 foot aluminum Jon boat, complete with a trailer and 9 horse motor. The boat was made by Montgomery Ward and was called a Sea King. The motor was a 10 year old Wizard (Western Auto) and would shear a pin quicker if you sneezed wrong.

The ole Sea King wasn’t the fanciest boat around but it was mine and I was the Captain of the ship. Six years later I sold a motorcycle and bought a brand new 15 horse Evinrude motor. The ole Sea King still wasn’t fancy, but I had a ton of fun on that boat. Some of my fondest memories from that time in my life are associated with the ole Sea King.

A few years back though the ole Sea King started having some problems. The trailer needed a lot of work and the motor quit running. I neglected her and didn’t get her fixed. She sat patiently waiting for some attention. Well this past spring my oldest son Taylor requested and was granted permission to restore the Sea King to her original glory.

Time had not been on her side. In fact while it seemed like it she had only been out of commission a few years, a closer inspection revealed that the last boat sticker I bought was in 1995. And that closer inspection revealed extensive work that needed to be done on the boat, trailer and motor. I knew I didn’t have the time, skill nor willpower to get the job done. And I wasn’t sure if my son had what it took to get the job done either.

I must proudly say that not only did he have what it took to get the job done, the ole Sea King looks better than she ever did before. He completely refurbished the trailer, built new carpeted floor boards and mounted new seats for the boat. His proclamation that he was going to give the Sea King a camouflage paint scheme had me worried. But he did a great job and it has a matching camouflage gas can.

The boat motor, which wasn’t running 15 years ago, had become a Mecca for dirt dobbers. The mechanic said it was the worst he’d ever seen. It took him a while but he got that Evinrude running like a clock again. So if you are out and about and see a tan camouflage boat on the water, it just might be me or my son because thanks to him, Simply Put, the Ole Sea King is back in business.
From the Front Porch: Uncle Bob said honesty pays, but apparently not enough for some people.

“The Wiz is Gone”

The world of sports, in fact the world for that matter, was saddened this past week with the passing of legendary former UCLA basketball coach John Wooden. Dubbed the “Wizard of Westwood” for how his squads absolutely dominated the game of college basketball for more than a decade, Wooden was a true winner both on and off the court.
His attributes on the court are astonishing.  As a player he led his high school team to a State Championship.  He led his Purdue Boilermakers to a college National Championship.  As coach at UCLA his teams set the high water mark, especially from 1964 – 1975.  In those 12 seasons they won 10 National Championships and went 339-22. 
But for many of us it was not just that he won but how he won.  He was not a coach that ranted and raved at his players like a Bobby Knight type coach.  He said there was no need to yell at young men or snatch them around.  His greatest motivator, he said, were the seats next to him on the bench.  He coached by respect and motivation not fear and intimidation.  Wooden won 10 National Championships, Knight won 3.  
If he was anything he was a man of integrity and principal.  When his big man, John Walton, proclaimed that it was his right to grow a mustache and long hair, which was against team rules, Wooden didn’t blow up at Walton.  But he didn’t back down either to arguably one of the best big men to ever play the game.  He calmly agreed with Walton that it was his right and he was welcome to exercise that right at any other team in the country.  Walton shaved the mustache and cut his hair.
One might think that as a youngster I would have disliked UCLA because they were always beating my favorite southern teams like Kentucky and North Carolina.  But they were a team that was hard not to like, in part because of their unselfish play.  But I became an even bigger fan of Wooden as an adult when I read several books about him and by him.        
When I began closing my weekly column 3 ½ years ago with humorous one liners I started with the mythical figure of Uncle Bob.  After reading a book by Wooden I decided to start rotating insightful one liners from the mythical figure “Coach.”  That was in honor of Coach Wooden and many of the one liners that I have used over the last 3 years are quotes from Coach Wooden.   
Simply Put, the Wiz is gone and we’ll never see another coach like him.  But we can all pay tribute to him by encouraging today’s coaches to deploy the John Wooden model for coaching.  And I will continue to pay tribute to him with thoughts “From The Front Porch” by Coach.     
            
From the Front Porch: Coach Wooden said talent is God given…be humble; conceit is self given…be careful.

“Help The Jays Take Flight”

This past Thursday night I had the privilege of being invited to sit in on a meeting of the Big Bend Baseball League.  (See Jump Starting The Jays on this page).  I say privilege because they thought enough of me to invite me to this meeting.  That plus the fact that Homer Hirt was there and any time I can spend time around an octogenarian I figure it’s a privilege.
The Big Bend Baseball league started several years ago and last year was the first year that Jackson County had a team.  For those not familiar with the league it is basically geared to young men ages 18-30 that enjoy still playing the game of baseball.  I say that age range simply because you have to be at least 18 to play and most men over 30 aren’t in much baseball shape anymore.  But if you are over 30 and can still play the game at a competitive level we’ll I’m sure they’ll give you a shot.
While the overall league has been very successful, our Jackson County Jays team has not prospered as some would have hoped.  Logic tells folks that with five high school baseball programs in the county, there ought to be an ample supply of young men that would like to play for the Jays.  Throw in a few from Chipola, a few that are home from college or have been out of school for a few years but still want to play and you’d think there would be no problem finding at least 9 guys to play on any given Sunday.
Some of the communities around Jackson County have been able to raise ball clubs without too many problems.  Calhoun (Horseman), Washington (Bruins), Liberty (Diamond Dawgs) and Chattahoochee (Red Birds) have had a lot of success in getting plenty of players to come out. If those communities can do it our community should be able to do it.  
My personal opinion is that the missing ingredient for the Jays right now is a coach.  What is needed is a former coach that still wants to be involved with the game.  Someone who can come out of retirement, so to speak, and has the experience of managing a team.  Maybe there is an ole ball coach sitting around that has fished all he wants to fish or has gardened all he wants to garden.  Heck if nothing else it might be a good excuse to tell the wife that her honey do list will just have to wait until fall (and cooler weather).
So if you are an ole ball coach looking for something to do, the Jays might just be your ticket.  If the Jays could get a coach, and the right coach, Simply Put, I think the Jays could take flight.  
       
From the Front Porch: Uncle Bob said lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin’ it back in.