For about ten years we had to endure the word "LIKE" in every sentence uttered by anyone under twenty.
"LIKE" (which used mean "similar to" or "to have some affection for") is now a meaningly syllable interposed between otherwise (hopefully) meaningful information. For example:
"LIKE, we went to Arris' Pizza and saw these guys and they were LIKE really awesome, so we LIKE started taliking to them and we found out they were LIKE from Wardsville."
Some extra words to give immature minds a chance to catch up with what's coming out of their mouths.Not a completely bad thing. Annoying but not rude.
But there us new linguistic trend that not just a filler. It is preemptive and arrogant. Allow me to call out the phrase:
"Yeah-Yeah-Yeah."
Note there is no comma or pause between these three rounds. They are fired like the triple tap they teach in conceal and carry classes. Pull the trigger three times and assess the target.
This three word jab is used any time a young person thinks he or she knows exactly what you're going to say, and he's has analyzed it, researched it, and your attempt to speak the next sentence is cut off without debate because he knows more about the topic than you can ever know.
Young people are so used to interjecting this rude interruption that they think nothing of it. Some pretty sophisticated people have adopted the habit. Sorry, but I have concluded it is observable mostly in young females but not exlusively so. It trended from snobs on the east coast but it's now prevalent here in flyover country.
So just stop.
Use little restraint with your verbal arsenal
and overstuffed ego.
So, walking our only grandchild, Colby, a precious little dog, and I noticed I had grabbed three comfortable things to wear (old tennis shoes, old slacks with cuffs - and DARK socks) and decided it was time to bring back High Street Beat.
There will still be some local events/issues and -- my passion, Apostrophe Patrol, but also some Second Half of Life stuff. More on that later. One hint: only when you're well in to the Second Half can you wear dark socks and tennis shoes and not really care! Hope you enjoy.
Planning to re-commence some Highstreetbeat blogging in 2014. These photos from our spacecraft Cassini during its visit to Saturn and the neighborhood provide some balance in our lives that are often tightly focused and self-centered. There's a big world out there, and we are blessed to be a litte part of it. Happy new year!
Feeling like a Renaissance guy tonight.
Attending a "twofer" wedding in STL tomorrow. Hindu ceremony at 9 am (suit with colorful sport shirt) with an Eastern Orthodox version (same suit with tie) in the evening. Different perspectives. One God. Many houses. All good. Food and beverages intermixed.
Watching the Cards tonight thump Atlanta. This afternoon arranged the next set of needlepoint with 98 year old mom who's starting PT in her home Monday. Initial evaluation: "He liked the way I did the steps." Thank you Don Miller and Annie Mulholland. Dropped Colby (four legged granddaughter) off to Second Half of Life mentors Tom and Mary Jo.
Tomorrow on the way to STL early it will be the Almon Brothers until I get to Kingdom City. "One Way Out" will get me to Callaway County. Take pee (at an appropriate location), get on I-70 and listen to Richard Rohr talk about how the Odyssey is an early offering of the Second Half.
Return Monday to the practice of law. Mostly First Half stuff. Always looking for Second Half opportunities.
Peggy's flight from London via Chicago via St. Louis arrives tonight. Going to welcome her back to the USA, the Midwest, the Capital City and Scenic Drive. Colby arrived yesterday by land. Many thanks to You-Jin.
Time for a confession. Let's get it over with.
When a wife is gone for ten days, even a responsible middle aged male can get restless. Not talking about the kind of restlessness that comes when he walks through the produce section at Gerbes and sees tanned suburban moms and signs like this:
Here's how I (almost) fell from grace:
I was leaving court Thursday morning. The office is a block away. Midway in the block is the best popcorn in town, maybe in the universe, at Tolson's.
They've told me lately to stay off the salt. I've been pretty good about this. But when your spouse is 5,000 miles away you can (as pentitent politicians say) "lose your moral compass." Well, my compass led me sixty feet to the south, across High Street.
It was like buying a Playboy. Should I buy a pack of gum, some AAA batteries and a newspaper to make my real agenda less obvious?
I approached timidly . . . .
. . . and the clerk told me the popcorn machine had been out of service for two months.
Theologians have debated this point for centuries. Did I commit the sin or not? I was ready to proceed, but circumstances prevented me. Do I get some credit for not actually doing it?
I concluded that from a moral standpoint I was . . .
Therefore, since the event would be forever logged as a debit on my PSC ("Private Salvation Scorecard") it made perfect sense to get some benefit in return for the time in purgatory by purchasing . . .
a corn dog, Coke and tater tots.
I'm glad Peggy is coming home. The temptations are getting harder to resist every day.
_____________________
People do travel blogs when they go places.
This is my non-travel blog about Home Sweet Home.
My wife and dog are almost home. I've tried tol keep you posted.
With my wife and gone gone, males lately have been more supportive. Invitations from elected officials to visit rural retreats. Lunches from old clients. (I still have to buy.) Any connection with this week's Supreme Court decision?
My theory has always been that most of the time males spend on golf courses and in deer stands have nothing to do with making or shooting birdies. They're just excuses to get out and experience nature with a friend. Up to now those of us who cannot hit a golf 200 yards or want to blow a fellow creature off its hooves have been deprived of something good, healthy and noble.
Friend and mentor Tom Durkin and I have the solution:
Smoking Cheese
It's the perfect third option for males: one trip to the store; two and a half hours interrupted periodically to "check the cheese"; definable objective; low risk. Can be augmented with beer and a ball game on the radio. (No TV please. We're in "deer camp," dammit!)
We had the chance to catch up on some old windmills and Tom introduced me the fascinating world of the Enneagram. It looks interesting for anyone who wants to take a look in the mirror, and maybe develop some strategies to be more successful in a carreer, a family, or in a relationship with God. It's like the MMPI combined wth an instruction manual.
We could have gone to Oak Hills or Meadowlake or in a deer stand or trout park. It's all the same. Men really should look for the opportunities. Waiting until the nursing home eliminates lots of more enjoyable venues.
_____________________
People do travel blogs when they go places.
This is my non-travel blog about Home Sweet Home.
My wife and dog are gone. I'll keep you posted.
Well past the halfway mark in my non-travel journey.
Keeping up on the laundry. I change underwear less frequently, and the sheets and towells will be fine until my wife returns, so it's not hard stay ahead. Unlike the TV problem mentioned in an earlier post, Peggy left me with very clear instructions about how to do laundry and even put some reminders on the washing machine.
Folding her clothes made me think of her. You know. Intimate, personal stuff. Not so much the obvious items. Her favorite T shirt and dishtowel made me get a little teary eyed.
People do travel blogs when they go places.
This is my non-travel blog about Home Sweet Home.
My wife and dog are gone. I'll keep you posted.
Thinking about Howard Hughes. He remained in bed the last years of this life and watched Ice Station Zebra over and over hundreds of times. Great movie, but . . .
I'm a big Jason Bourne fan. (Solitary but loving male; special mental and physical skills; abused by the system. All kinds of things in common.) In addition to having a little extra free time, I was really motivated to watch an episode tonight when I saw this license plate at a local convenience store. Pure Karma. No kidding. It's a Missouri plate. I would have tapped on the window but I'm sure Jason was on a special mission and he would not have wanted to give me an autograph. And he might have thought I was from Treadstone and I'd be dead immediately. No blood. Just bulging eyes.
But I could have told given him directions to his long lost home in Nixa, Missouri. (He learned he was from there in the second episode.) I talked to a city councilman from Nixa last year and he said Brad Pitt has a place on the river close by, and Jason's been there a few times just hanging out. In the movies he has amnesia and they needed a place to reveal as his home. He chose Nixa. Way cooler than, say, Baltimore.
People do travel blogs when they go places.
This is my non-travel blog about Home Sweet Home.
My wife and dog are gone. I'll keep you posted.
Part of my non-travel journey is technological. Before my wife and my dog were gone the only time I experienced the downstairs TV was with Peggy or David if he decided to hang out. Is it a crime to watch the Cardinals on a big screen on my own? In my boxers? Don't answer that.
The three of them lay there like three headed Cerburus guarding the gates of hell. Like the ladies we walked by in East Berlin on our last trip to Germany. They were smiling -- actually laughing -- at me. I felt like Lewis and Clark when they had to choose between two rivers in Montana while seeking the Pacific. The Corps of Discovery knew if they guessed incorrectly they would be stranded and could die. Have you been there? In the remote control wilderness?
The deception is fundamental. You would think the 'POWER" button would allow you to turn on the dang TV. No way. This button is irrelevant, overruled by the remote control ladies of the night. Some programmer in China created this button to force middle aged western male capitalists to feel a small sample of the pain of five thousand years of oppression.
People do travel blogs when they go places.
This is my non-travel blog about Home Sweet Home.
My wife and dog are gone. I'll keep you posted.
High Street Beat is the personal weblog of John Landwehr, a partner at Cook Vetter Doerhoff & Landwehr and a former Mayor of Jefferson City. Your comments, feedback and suggestions are welcome.