DAN MILLER'S NOTEBOOK

THE GOOFY NAME GAME

By Dan Miller
December 28, 2007

Pardon my silliness, but a story in our 10 o'clock newscast shortly before Christmas ignited this particular thought process in my brain.

The story was about a young woman in Utah named Mary Young who had married a man named Brian Christmas.
She thus became 'Mary Christmas' and -- during the recent holidays -- she had the unique experience of not knowing for sure whether someone was calling her name or simply extending a holiday greeting.

That little story was all I needed to kick off a round of "If They Married" in the newsroom.

I offer 15 examples for your consideration (some old, some new):

1) If Bo Derek married Bo Diddley, she would suddenly become Bo Diddley.

2) If Bo Derek married Don Ho, she'd be Bo Ho.

3) If Happy Rockefeller married Eliot Ness, she'd be Happy Ness.

4) If NBC's Hoda Kotb married Truman Capote, she'd be Hoda Capote.

5) If Lindsay Lohan married George Lindsey, she'd be forever known as Lindsay "Goober" Lindsey.

6) If Paris Hilton married Bill France, she'd be Paris France.

7) If Ivana Trump married Harvey Levine... then divorced him and married Johnny Knoxville... she'd be Ivana Levine Knoxville.

8) If Sissy Spacek married Manfred Mann, she'd be Sissy Mann.

9) If Ella Fitzgerald married Darth Vader, she'd be Ella Vader.

10) If Whoopie Goldberg married Peter Cushing, she'd be Whoopie Cushing.

11) If Sondra Locke married Elliot Ness... then divorced him to marry Herman Munster... she'd be Sondra Locke Ness Munster.

12) If Ivana Trump married, in succession, Orson Bean... King Oscar (of Norway)... movie mogul Louis B. Mayer... and mathematician Norbert Wiener... she'd become Ivana Bean Oscar Mayer Wiener.

13) If Bea Arthur married Sting, she'd be Bea Sting.

14) If Tuesday Weld married Hal March III, she'd be Tuesday March 3.

And finally...

15) If Dolly Parton married Tommy Smothers... then somehow married the old TV character Mr. Lucky... then divorced and married Martin Short... then later married football kicker Ray Guy... she'd have the unforgettable name of Dolly Parton Smothers Lucky Short Guy.

Happy New Year folks.... now I'm officially going back to work.

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HE SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA

By Dan Miller
December 21, 2007

He may not look exactly the same as when the world first heard from him, but I think I'd still recognize him.
After all, that was 55 years ago.

And every Christmas season since then, people everywhere have heard this guy’s youthful voice on the radio, or played over the speakers in grocery stores and shopping malls.
The photo on top appears to be fairly recent.
He’s now 68 years old.

His name is Jimmy Boyd.

That’s also Jimmy shown in the 2nd photo, the way he looked around the time his recording of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” was first released in 1952.

It was an immediate and enormous hit, selling two-and-a-half million records within weeks, and it has endured as one of the most popular novelty Christmas songs of all time.
By now, it’s estimated that 60,000,000 copies have been sold.

Given that the song came out in the rather reserved and naive 1950s, it was quite controversial.
In fact, it was condemned by the Catholic Church in Boston.

At only 13, Jimmy went to Boston and met with leaders of the Archdiocese to defend the song and explain it’s lyrics.
He obviously did a good job because they lifted the ban the next year.

Jimmy Boyd has done many other things in his long career.
He’s appeared on countless television variety shows…. in the movies…. he's had other hit records…. he even tried his hand at standup comedy.
But his life and career will always be closely tied to that one song about a little boy sneaking down the stairs to have a peek on Christmas eve.

I often wonder if he still sings the song.
I suppose it might sound weird being performed by a man pushing 70.

You can click on DO YOU RECOGNIZE THIS MAN? to read what I wrote about another person whose face is hardly familiar, but – like Jimmy Boyd – we hear his voice countless times during every Christmas season.

I hope your holidays are wonderful.

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A KNOCK IN THE MICROWAVE

By Dan Miller
December 18, 2007

Here's an almost verbatim conversation between my wife and me.
This little dialogue took place after an appliance repairman had visited our house to evaluate several appliances that went on the blink following a power surge.

ME… Has the repairman already checked everything?
KAREN… Yes, he's coming back tomorrow to do the repair work.

ME… What did he say about the microwave oven?
KAREN… He said he's pretty sure it can be fixed.... he thinks it's just the spark plug that's gone bad.

ME… The spark plug?
KAREN… That's what he said.

ME… Is it possible that, instead of 'spark plug', he said the 'circuit breaker' was bad?
KAREN… I'm pretty sure he said the spark plug.

ME... Does he think a new spark plug will give the microwave better gas mileage?
KAREN... What?

ME... Did he mention anything about the oil needing to be changed in the ice maker?
KAREN… No, what are you talking about?

ME… I'm wondering if we should have him check the tire pressure on the refrigerator when he comes tomorrow.
KAREN… Don't you have someplace you need to be?

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A DAYDREAM BELIEVER

By Dan Miller
December 12, 2007

I've always been a bit of a daydreamer, and it doesn't take much to set my mind to wandering.

Karen, my wife, can vouch for that.
Several times a day she'll tell me something of great importance and -- too often -- my reply is apt to be, "Oh, I'm sorry, say that again, I didn't quite follow"... or, even more often, "Huh?"

Lost in boxes in an attic somewhere are old report cards from grammar school to further prove my point.
There are handwritten comments from my teachers saying things like, "Danny can do good work if he'll keep his attention in the classroom and stop looking out the window."

One thing that's sure to send my imagination soaring is a breezy, beautiful day.
Glancing out a window on such a day can transport me anywhere.

And here I go again.

I'm writing this on Tuesday afternoon, December 11th, dividing my attention between the computer screen, and a big newsroom window.

It's 76 degrees out there.
And, as I mentioned, it's December 11.
It's the warmest December 11th in Nashville's recorded history.
This is my youngest daughter McKensie's 9th birthday.
Yesterday was my middle daughter Darcy's 34th birthday.
The sky is bright and sunny.... puffy white clouds are drifting by.

There's just something about such a warm winter day....

And looking out at such a peaceful scene through this big window....

Like I'm doing now.................

That.... just takes..... my......
thoughts.......................................
...............................

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MY BIG FAT EMISSIONS TEST

By Dan Miller
Dec. 7, 2007

There was a smile on my face as I drove into the auto emissions testing place.

There was no line.... only one car ahead of me, and it was already being tested.
So I would be next.
This would be quick and easy.

And a sign on the building had more good news.
The price for the test.... $9.
Then I recalled we'd done a story on how SysTech International -- the company that won Metro's latest testing contract.... has actually dropped the price from $10 to $9.
Wow, how often do we see prices on anything lowered anymore?

Within 2 minutes I was beckoned into the testing bay.

The nice young lady told me -- as they always do -- that I'd have to step out of my car so she could hook that thing-a-majig under the dashboard to do whatever it does.
I got out and stood over to the side to observe the process.

The nice young lady turned around and said, "Sir, you'll have to go into that little room."

I said, "Thanks, but I'll just stand right here and watch, if that's OK."

“No sir, you'll have to go inside the little room," she said, a bit more emphatically.

"Wow," I said, "I don't want to cause trouble."

I opened the door and stepped into a little barren room.
It contained a few chairs and a water dispenser.
I felt like, at any moment, Police Chief Ronal Serpas and the boys might come in to ask me a few questions.
I never sat.

I paced back and forth across the entire 5 feet of the room, actually feeling a bit nervous about the test.
What was taking so long?
Was there a problem?

Finally the nice young lady motioned that I could come out.... and she told me to sit in my car.
"This is encouraging," I thought.
At least I wasn't being interrogated, or cuffed.

A few minutes later she walked up with the bad news.
My car had failed the test.

"What!!??.... my car didn't pass the test?"

I couldn't believe my ears.
Never before had my trusty little car.... with fewer than 40,000 miles on it.... failed.

Suddenly, an old familiar feeling welled up in me.... it was a sensation I hadn't felt since I used to see my test grades in school (where I felt it far too often).

The nice young lady explained what I needed to do before returning to get it retested.
She never stopped being nice.
And I was nice to her.

But, as I drove away "conversing" with my car -- my smile had turned upside down, and my grumpy-o-meter was overheating.

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AN ENDURING LIGHT

By Dan Miller
December 4, 2007

What do Rose Kennedy, Bob Hope, George Burns, Grandma Moses, Irving Berlin and Bob Ballard have in common?

Well, let's see...
They're influential... funny... community involved... creative... even musical.
And beyond all that, each lived to celebrate his or her 100th birthday.

Bob Ballard stands unique among those six people because he not only made it to 100.... he's alive and kicking, and still charming everyone around him.
Right about now, many of you are probably asking -- who exactly is Bob Ballard?
I'll tell you.

Bob has spent his entire life (100 years, and counting) in the state of Georgia.... specifically Rome, Georgia for the majority of that time.

He started his working career 80 years ago with Georgia Power Company.
Even though he's officially retired, Georgia Power honored Bob last month with his 80-year service award.... recognizing him as having a longer association with the utility than any other person in its history.

And "the Ballard legacy" hasn't stopped after Bob's retirement.
Both his sons, Bobby and Jack, followed in their father's footsteps with careers at Georgia Power.

Bob is also my uncle.
For 55 years he was married to his beloved Lena, my mother's older sister.
Lena died in 1989.

Now, you must understand, the tentacles of my extended family reach far and wide in all directions.
That's something that can easily happen when your mother is one of 15 children.
Anywhere I travel, there's sure to be a cousin somewhere nearby.

This past Sunday I drove down to Rome with my wife and daughter to join the celebration of Bob's 100th.
And -- no surprise -- there were cousins galore.
People came from far and near, like ships drawn to a beacon in the night.

Standing around him in the attached photo are Bob's five surviving children, Bobby, Judy, Helen, Sissy and Jack.
Sadly missing is his youngest daughter, Dixie, who died two years ago.

Quite a few of Bob's 15 grandchildren and 21 great-grandchildren were also there.

Bob moves a little slower these days, using a walker to help him along.
But every step he takes is another notch forward in a life lived with remarkable humor, love, goodness and generosity.

As I reflected on all the relatives, and friends, and former co-workers who gathered to honor Bob, I happened upon these words written by author Denis Waitley:
"A life lived with integrity - even if it lacks the trappings of fame and fortune - is a shining star in whose light others may follow in the years to come."

That's my uncle Bob.
___________________

*** Uncle Bob passed away away peacefully on December 29, 2008, just about 4 weeks after celebrating his 101st birthday. He was a good man who lived a long, wonderful life***

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LOST AND SOMETIMES FOUND

By Dan Miller
November 30, 2007

Underneath the back porch of the house where I grew up, I found an old, brittle baseball glove.
I didn't recognize it as one of my old gloves, but I tried it on for size.
There was something inside one of the fingers that kept my hand from going all the way in.

When I pulled my hand out, to my surprise, out popped an old high school class ring.
Apparently, it had been stuck in the finger of that old glove for years.

Now, this happened in Georgia about 45 years ago, so details are sketchy.... but here's what I remember.

Inside the ring, the initials "R-J-M" were engraved.
It was for the Class of 1954 at a school in a small town in Ohio.
Honestly, I don't recall the school's name or the town.
But I wrote a letter to the school, telling them I'd found a ring from the 1954 graduating class bearing the initials "R-J-M."

A couple of weeks later I got a letter from the school telling me they had located and contacted a man named Robert J. Majors, who had graduated that year, and he confirmed that he had indeed lost his class ring several years earlier.

I sent the ring to Mr. Majors, and a few days later, I received a nice letter thanking me for the unexpected return.

He said he had lost the ring while in the Army stationed at Fort Gordon in Augusta, but didn't recall exactly how or when he lost it.
He also confirmed that he had, in fact, played on a baseball team for awhile while on the Army post.
But he didn't remember losing a glove, so apparently he had borrowed someone else's glove -- and that's when the ring got stuck, without him even noticing.

How it ended up beneath my parents' back porch is a mystery for the ages.
But it was a nice little serendipitous connection to someone I've never met.

That whole scenario popped back into my consciousness the other day when I read an article written by Bill Cahalan for the Fairmont Sentinel Online from Fairmont, Minnesota.
He wrote about how a man named Aaron Giles got back an identification bracelet he'd lost in a barn 28 years earlier.

It happened recently when a young woman working in a chicken processing plant in Fairmont, spotted a shiny object while cutting up a chicken.
There, stuck in the gizzard of the chicken, was an ID bracelet with a name and address on it.
With a little detective work the chicken processors were able to locate Aaron Giles, though he and his family had long since moved away from Fairmont.

They returned it to Aaron, who's now in his 30s.

Turns out, Aaron's dad had bought the ID bracelet for him when he was just 3 years old.

As for how it got into that chicken's gizzard.... well, it's for certain that chicken will never tell the story.... so there's another mystery for the ages.

Remember folks......
Whenever anything is lost.... if it's not perishable or degradable....
it's still out there somewhere! Just wait.

And be careful biting into chicken.

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A FICKLE SPORTS OBSERVER

By Dan Miller
November 26, 2007

I don't know exactly when it happened, but my sports preferences have definitely shifted.

All during my youth, baseball was my sport of choice... to watch, to play, to understand, to talk and fantasize about.
It was the sport dreams were made of.
As recently as last summer, if someone asked me my favorite sport....
it required no thought.... "baseball" was my automatic answer.

As for football -- until I was a grown man -- my only real involvement in the game had been to attend high school games, and play touch football in the backyard.

Baseball, on the other hand, could consume my time.
There were countless sandlot games to play....
There were solo fantasy games played in the backyard, bouncing a tennis ball off the back of the house (and breaking a few windows)....

There were summer days spent tossing a ball back and forth with my pal Michael Danish.

There were untold hours spent at Jennings Stadium watching Class "A" Sally League teams taking on our hometown Augusta Tigers (or Rams).
I knew the name of every player on the team.

There was the year I went out for our high school baseball team, but was (mercifully) cut from the roster because of shoulder pain (and, perhaps, questionable ability).

For years, I could recite 'who batted in what order' in the Atlanta Braves lineup...
I listened to, at least part of, most every Braves game on the radio.

There was even a fantasy baseball game I played with my neighbor Butch Kabala, when I lived and worked in Columbia, South Carolina.
We used dice and some long forgotten formula to score the games.

The years I spent in Los Angeles were made more enjoyable because I could watch the Braves on TBS cable most nights, and attend Dodgers games.

I suspect the gradual changeover to a "football preference" actually began while I lived in South Carolina 40 years ago and, for the first time, attended college football games.
The atmosphere in that University of South Carolina stadium was -- for me -- magical.
I even got to know (then) Gamecocks coach Paul Dietzel a bit.

It was also during those years that I started watching the upstart AFL games on NBC.
That was the era when Joe Namath led the New York Jets to a victory over the highly favored Baltimore Colts of the NFL in Super Bowl III.
No Super Bowl game has ever touched that one for sheer excitement.

When I moved to Nashville, I still followed the USC Gamecocks, though I immediately got hooked on, and loyal to, the Vanderbilt Commodores, and remain so to this day.
This past weekend, I was thrilled to watch former Vandy quarterback Jay Cutler (and the Denver Broncos) taking on former Vandy defensive star Hunter Hillenmeyer (and the Chicago Bears).
Since I wasn't at home to watch it live, I recorded it and then carefully avoided hearing the score until I got to the house to play it back.

When the Titans came to Tennessee a few years ago, football clearly began to occupy my thought process more than baseball.... I just hadn't realized it.

I'm not sure there was ever an official "break" between me and baseball.
Maybe I felt jilted when the strike happened a few years back, and they cancelled the World Series.
Maybe the steroid scandals diminished the sanctity of those cherished baseball records.
Maybe it had something to do with the designated hitter.... or inter-league play.... or the retirement of Hank Aaron and others like him.

I still love the game of baseball.
A good contest, with well-executed plays, is fun to watch.
These days though, if I'm going to attend a baseball game, I prefer the family-oriented minor league Nashville Sounds to the hoopla of the big leagues.

With the exception of an occasional round of golf, or a little backyard basketball, I'm only a sports observer nowadays.....
And -- if you ask me my favorite sport to observe -- my apologies to baseball, but I truthfully gotta say.... football.

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A SANDWICH SURPRISE

By Dan Miller
November 20, 2007

If it concerns fashion or food, I trust whatever my wife tells me.

When I'm ready to leave the house, if Karen says, "You might want to consider other shoes with that outfit"... I'll usually change, even though -- in my heart -- I might feel the brown shoes work just fine with the tuxedo.

If she points out that some particular food isn't, nutritionally, what's best for me, I'll at least take her advice into consideration.
Just this week, she taught me something wonderful about food that I never even suspected.

We met at a sandwich shop for a quick lunch as I was heading to work.
I ordered tuna salad with lots of mayonnaise.
(She says I use too much mayo, and I probably do.)
Karen ordered the veggie sandwich on wheat.
She told them she wanted lettuce, tomatoes, some sort of sprouts, green peppers, oregano and cucumber slices.

When the guy said they were out of cucumbers, she said, "OK, then put bacon on it."

"Bacon!" I said.
"I thought you were getting a veggie sandwich."

"I am" she nonchalantly assured me.

This is terrific.

I had no idea that bacon was a vegetable.
Now that I think about it, many times at restaurants I do find bacon bits in my green salad.
So I guess it's true.

Next time I'm in a garden store, I think I'll buy some bacon seed so Karen can grow bacon right there in her garden next spring.
She'll like that.

I'll bet homegrown bacon is delicious!

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COWS CARRY GRUDGES

By Dan Miller
November 16, 2007

I seldom read newspaper comic strips -- or the “funny papers” as we used to call them.
They usually don't seem all that funny to me.

But I sure do miss Gary Larson’s old cartoon strip, “The Far Side”.
His odd, often irreverent take on animal and human behavior resulted in some of the best laugh-out-loud cartoons ever printed.

Gary decided to retire from his regular syndicated cartoons about 12 years ago…. but his books and calendars remain incredibly popular… and his “best of” collections always end up on best seller lists.

A recurring theme is, basically, “what animals do when no humans are around”… and he always seems to have a fondness for cows.
In one of my favorites, the first panel shows cows in a pasture, standing on their hind legs, chatting like humans -- until they spot a car coming down the road.
One of them shouts, “Car!” and the cows then go into – what we assume to be -- their normal position, on four legs, lazily grazing the grass.... at least until the car passes by.

Lately, I‘m beginning to think maybe Gary Larson knows something about cows that the rest of us don’t.
For example, I saw an Associated Press story a few days ago from West Haven, Utah.

Eight cows were being hauled in a cattle trailer, but when the driver pulled into a McDonald’s to grab a quick bite, the cows busted out of the trailer and made a run for it.
It took authorities 2 hours to round them all up.
One of the sheriff's deputies on the scene said, "Maybe they were going to hop in the freezer, save the middleman."
I prefer to think the cows were just uneasy about pulling into a hamburger place.

Hmmm…. I decided to go on the internet and read about the intelligence level of cows.
Surfing around, I found some interesting facts about how smart cows might be.
Examples:

1) Cows can hold grudges against other animals or humans for months or even years.
2) Cows’ intelligence is on a par with dogs, and a bit higher than a cat.
3) Cows often form a small circle of friends within the herd.
4) Cows enjoy challenges, and will feel excitement when they use their intellect to overcome an obstacle.
5) Cows have advanced navigation abilities, and can often find their way back home after being sold at auction.
6) Cows remember their birthdays, and that of their family members, and always appreciate receiving birthday cards from humans.

OK, I made up that last one!

Anyhow, I’m rethinking my plans to grab a hamburger for lunch today.

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THE BEST TEAM EVER?

By Dan Miller
November 13, 2007

Even if you're not interested in high school football, there's a team in Kansas you should know about.
In news sources ranging from The New York Times to ESPN's website, I've been reading about the Smith Center High School Redmen, and their amazing football season.

The town of Smith Center, Kansas has a population of fewer that 2,000 people.... and the high school has only about 150 students, split roughly 50/50 between girls and boys.
Yet, the football team is having an undefeated season.

OK, you say -- so there are lots of undefeated high school teams across the country.
But wait.... Smith Center is not only undefeated, but no opponent has even scored against them in eleven games this season.
That's right, eleven shutouts!!

And there's more...
Smith Center is averaging almost 70 points a game, having outscored their opponents 760 - 0 in those eleven games.
In fact, a couple of weeks ago, the Redmen scored 72 points IN THE FIRST QUARTER against Plainville!
That includes 9 touchdowns and 9 two-point conversions, in just the first quarter.

As far as I can tell, they've not punted a single time this season.

Smith Center has now racked up 52 straight victories.
Pretty impressive.... but it pales when compared to what a high school team did right here in Tennessee.

In the years between 1942 and 1949, Bedford County Training School in Shelbyville recorded 52 straight shutouts.
Not just 52 victories.... shutouts!
That means that spanning about 7 seasons, no opponent scored against them.

Bedford County Training apparently closed its doors years ago, but if there's anyone out there who played on that team during the 1940s, give me a call.
That's got to be a great story.

I wonder how they'd have matched up against the Smith Center Redmen?

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A DISCUSSION OF CHOPSTICKS

By Dan Miller
November 9, 2007

There are at least two things I simply cannot do.... juggle, and use chopsticks.

My wife and daughter are quick to utilize chopsticks whenever we visit an Asian restaurant.
But I always ask them the same question…..
Why struggle with those straight, clumsy, wooden sticks when we always have at our disposal a wonderful little innovation known as the “fork?”

Now, I'll admit -- even using a fork -- it’s rare that I make it through a meal without a few drops or drips on my tie or shirt.
That’s because -- I’m convinced -- there’s a mysterious force in nature that attracts drops and drips to my clothing…. and the force grows even more powerful when I’m wearing a brand new shirt or tie.
Somehow it knows.

In fact, you can multiply the odds of a stain appearing on my clothes by about 10 when I’m eating really greasy food.
And, on the rare occasion when I attempt to eat with chopsticks, the odds of something dropping multiply by about 10,000.

I searched the internet and found dozens of websites offering tips and training on how to use chopsticks.
They actually suggest you spend a little time at home in the evening practicing with chopsticks.
I dunno…. I became reasonably competent with a fork when I was about 4 years old, and I really don’t want to spend my evenings as a grown man practicing chopsticks.

There are also lots of websites dedicated to chopstick facts and etiquette.

Did you know, for example, that Chinese and Japanese chopsticks are different?
While Chinese chopsticks are usually made of unfinished wood or bamboo, the Japanese variety usually have lacquered wood.

If -- like my wife and daughter -- you feel you must use chopsticks, don’t forget basic chopstick etiquette.
A few actual examples cited:

1) When you’re not using your chopsticks, you’re supposed to place them on the table facing to your left.
2) Don't lick your chopsticks.
3) Never use your chopstick to point at anything.
4) Don't wave your chopsticks in the air.
5) Don't cross your chopsticks on the table, unless you want to signal to your server that you're ready for your check.
6) Never push chopsticks into your food, with the other end sticking up in the air.

As a parent, I can add a few more "unofficial" chopstick rules of etiquette:

1) Don't use your chopstick to bop your little sister on the head.
2) Don't throw your chopstick like a spear at other people.
3) Don't use your chopstick like a baseball bat to hit little rolled up wads of paper across the restaurant.
4) Don't use chopsticks to drum on the table.
5) Don't stick chopsticks in your nose to impersonate a walrus.
6) Don't juggle the chopsticks. (not a temptation for me, since I can't juggle)

Many food experts say Asian food actually tastes better when it’s eaten with wooden chopsticks….
I say, any food tastes better when you can actually get it into your mouth.
That’s why I’m a confirmed and committed fork-eater.

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SEPARATED AT BIRTH... OR COINCIDENCE?

By Dan Miller
November 6, 2007

Today, another round of celebrity (or semi-celebrity) look alikes.

Could it be that Nashville Mayor Karl Dean is a distant, far-removed relative of Fred Flintstone?

What about former Tennessee Titans great Eddie George and the late actor Yul Brynner?

And there are great similarities between Channel Four's morning host Holly Thompson and actress Michele Lee.
Hmmm, maybe mother and daughter?

And, come to think of it, I've never seen Channel Four's ace reporter Terry Bulger in the same room with David Freeman, the leader of the group buying the Nashville Predators NHL team.

And, I'll say it again.... how many times can I hear people whispering as I walk by, "Is that Fabio or Dan Miller?"

I'm sure Fabio has to deal with the same thing.

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PATRIOTISM PROTOCOL

By Dan Miller
November 2, 2007

I’m a patriotic guy, and I don’t want to sound like I’m not, in any way.

When "The Star-Spangled Banner" is played at a function or event, I always stand at attention.
If I’m wearing a hat, I’ll remove it, and I’ll offer a civilian salute, putting my hand over my heart.
When I was serving in the Army I would render a military salute when appropriate.
I always find a well performed version of the national anthem to be stirring and emotional.

But here’s something I don’t understand.
It happened just a few days ago as I was watching the final game of this year’s World Series on television from Denver.

During the 7th inning…. when fans normally take their 7th inning stretch…. the public address announcer asked everyone to stand and remove their hats for a performance of “God Bless America” by the country group LoneStar.
And everybody did it.
Everybody stood.
Hats came off.

A lot of people gave a civilian salute with their right hand over their heart.
And I caught glimpses of people in uniform rendering a military salute.

Now, “God Bless America” is a beautiful song.
Some have even suggested that it might be preferable to "The Star Spangled Banner" as our national anthem, since it’s not about “rockets red glare” and other war-related themes.
But, the fact is, it’s NOT our national anthem.
And the rules and customs that apply to the national anthem don’t apply to other songs.

Military guidelines are quite specific about protocol for saluting and not saluting.
On the list for saluting is, of course, the national anthem…. Taps…. and many other ceremonies and situations.
Not on the list is any reference to other songs about America.

To me, this trend of instructing people to display the exact same honor for songs other than the national anthem can only diminish the unique reverence we have for "The Star Spangled Banner."

Consider this question….. should the same gesture of respect be extended to all songs about our country?
Should we ask everyone to stand, remove their hats and salute Bruce Springsteen’s “Born In The USA"...?

How about James Brown’s “Living In America”…?

Waylon Jennings recorded a wonderful song titled “America”…. Should we stand and salute that song?
Do we remove our hats for Chuck Berry’s “Back In the USA”…?
Or, Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land”…?
Or Paul Simon’s lovely “American Tune”...?

You get my point.

And I don’t mean to make light of this.
Our country’s national anthem should be held in high esteem like no other song…. with a special reverence in our hearts.

Don’t get me wrong…. if someone wants to stand and remove their hat for any song, that’s alright with me…. and that’s their privilege …. but they shouldn’t be told to do it.

Am I right?
OK, you can sit down now.

______________________________

PORTER WAGONER

By Dan Miller
October 30, 2007

Merriam-Webster defines 'quintessential' as, quote, "the essence of a thing in its purest and most concentrated form."

Without question, Porter Wagoner was the quintessential country music entertainer.
He was pure country to the core.
Since early childhood in the Missouri Ozarks, he was drawn to -- what was then called -- "hillbilly music."

Porter would gladly tell you about his boyhood days in White Plains, Missouri.... standing on a big tree stump -- singing and dreaming -- and letting his fertile imagination transform that tree stump into the stage of the Grand Ole Opry, where he hoped to perform someday.

It was a dream that came true.
For more than a half century the Opry was his home turf, and I don't think there's ever been a performer who cherished that stage more than Porter.

This photo, by the way, shows Porter backstage at the Opry in 1979, signing an autograph for my -- then -- 7 year old daughter Jennifer.
Porter never -- to my knowledge -- refused to sign an autograph or spend time with someone he met.

And, oh, did Porter ever love to laugh.
I can't recall a single conversation that didn't, at some point, trigger that trademark throaty chuckle and flinging hands, as his legs convulsed and bounced with laughter.

As I drove to work on Monday -- the day following Porter's death -- I tuned my radio to WSM-AM.
I felt certain D-J Mike Terry would be playing a lot of Porter Wagoner music, and that's what I wanted to hear.
I was right.

And there was a comforting irony in the particular song that was being played when my radio came on.
It was Porter's first big hit, "Satisfied Mind."
At that very moment, the lyrics seemed perfect.
Porter sang:

When life has ended
My time has run out
My friends and my loved ones
I'll leave there's no doubt
But there's one thing for certain
When it comes my time
I'll leave this old world
With a satisfied mind

I believe he did.

____________________________________________

THE IMPORTANT STUFF

By Dan Miller
October 26, 2007

We've all watched the sad images of folks in California sifting through the embers of their homes, destroyed by the wildfires.

Thousands of people -- whose houses sat in these virtual tinderboxes -- lost everything but the clothes on their backs, and perhaps the car they used to drive away from the flames.

I'm always reminded how such disasters can pose a jolting question about priorities and perspective.
If I had to make an instantaneous choice about what to grab before evacuating my house.... what few material items would I try to take with me?

That's the choice these Californians had to make.

In almost every case I've seen on TV, they made the same decision that I would make.
The pictures.
The old family photos and home movies that simply cannot be replaced.

Nobody's grabbing HD televisions, or jewelry, or furniture.
Nobody seems concerned with that diploma on the wall, or the CD collection, or their new desktop computer, or books, or their new winter coat.
Those can all be replaced.

But the photos and the home movies are the real treasures.
Even if we revisit the places where we snapped those photos, we simply cannot go back to the time.

Isn't it interesting, what really matters, when you're facing the looming reality of losing it all?

___________________________________________

PROPER ATTIRE

By Dan Miller
October 23, 2007

Here's another thought provoking conversation between my daughter and me.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I jotted down this dialogue after it took place in June of 2006, when McKensie was 7 years old.
Since then, these notations have been parked on my desktop in a folder for unused items.

With McKensie's 9th birthday approaching, I figured I'd better post it before she's prone to voice objections.

(McKensie): "Daddy, what kind of clothes do robbers wear?"

(Me): "I don't know -- just the same kind of clothes that anyone else might wear."

(McKensie): "You mean you can't tell a robber by the clothes he wears?"

(Me): "No, anybody wearing anything might be a robber.... but sometimes a robber will wear a mask so nobody can see his face."

(McKensie): "I thought robbers had special uniforms to wear when they're gonna rob somebody."

(Me): "No, they might be wearing anything, you just never know."
After a few moments of thought, I added, "Of course, when they go to prison they do wear a prison uniform."

(McKensie): "Oh yeah, maybe that's what I was thinking about."

_______________________________________________

JOEY BISHOP, 1918 - 2007

By Dan Miller
October 19, 2007

Early on, I resisted liking Joey Bishop…. I had no reason to like him.

In 1967, when ABC gave Joey his own late night talk show, frankly I hoped he wouldn’t succeed.
I quietly promised myself I wouldn’t even watch his program.

The reason was simple.... I was a loyal fan of Johnny Carson.
For me, seeing Joey Bishop -- a member of Frank Sinatra's often irritating "Rat Pack" -- ordained to go head to head with "the king of late night" was something akin to blasphemy.

But before many weeks passed, I found myself switching channels occasionally to check out Joey’s show, and actually starting to, at least, appreciate his gift of deadpan humor and naturalness with guests and the audience.

It wasn't always easy.
He could be extremely biting, almost insulting, to guests, and then – like real people sometimes do – he could suddenly tug at the audience’s heartstrings with a vulnerability and tenderness that even the master, Johnny Carson, couldn’t quite reach.

When ABC first approached Joey about hosting that talk show, he told them he would do it on one condition…. that his sidekick would be a young man he'd been watching on a local station in Los Angeles.
That young man was Regis Philbin.

Years from now, when all is said and done, perhaps the most significant and lasting contribution Joey made to TV was introducing Regis Philbin to a national audience.

After a run of about two and a half years, Joey's ABC show was cancelled.

But he didn't disappear from late night.
He'd gotten quite good at hosting, so Johnny Carson would often ask him to substitute when he was away.
And Joey did it more than 200 times.
And the show hardly missed a beat.

I ended up liking Joey Bishop.

___________________________________________

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR. KNIEVEL

By Dan Miller
October 16, 2007

(This was written a month-and-a-half before Evel Knievel's death on November 30, 2007)

Amazingly, Evel Knievel and I share some common ground in our lives.

When Evel was a young boy in Butte, Montana, his dad took him to see Joey Chitwood's Auto Daredevil Show.
He credits that experience with sparking his lifelong passion for being a daredevil.
Evel chose motorcycles instead of cars, but seeing that Joey Chitwood show was the genesis of his fascinating career.

When I was a young boy in Augusta, Georgia, my dad took me and some friends to see Joey Chitwood's Auto Daredevil Show, and it sparked -- for a few days -- attempts by my pals and me to try some stupid, dangerous stunts on our bicycles.
When our parents came to our "show" and saw us put lighter fluid on the ground and light it, they stopped the show.... and that was the end of that.
My buddies and I all went on to other careers.

In 1974, when Evel Knievel made his historic jump over Idaho's Snake River Canyon, it generated excitement the world over.
His picture was on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and the TV replay of that jump is still listed as one of the highest rated Wide World of Sports ever on ABC.
The buildup to that event would rival any Super Bowl.

Evel promised he could, and would, attempt the half-mile jump.
There were two failed practice attempts with unmanned "rocket cycles".... still, Evel said he would keep his promise and attempt the jump.

On September 8th, 1974 I remember driving along Franklin Road, listening to live radio coverage of the Snake Canyon jump.
As the moment drew near, and the "play-by-play guy" told how Evel was strapped into his Skycycle and the countdown was on, I actually pulled off the road into a church parking lot to listen.
My adrenaline was pumping.

Evel managed to make it across, barely.
His parachute didn't quite work right, and he landed on the riverbank, just feet from the dangerous, swirling waters.
For a few minutes nobody seemed to know if he was dead or alive. Such an heart-stopping event.

Sometime around 1982, Evel Knievel was a guest on my local talk show Miller & Company.
I found him to be an interesting man with a healthy ego.

He had arrived at the television station in a huge bus, like the ones used by country singers.
Behind the bus, he had a "u-haul-it style" trailer.
I suppose that's where he kept his motorcycles.

After the taping, we all walked out in the parking lot in front of Channel 4 where the bus was parked.
I asked him who his driver was.
"I drive myself" he said.
I should've known.

After all the thanking and other niceties, Evel got into his bus and took off across the parking lot heading for the long, winding, steep driveway that connects WSMV to Knob Road below.
By the time he started down the hill, he was probably already going 40 mph, and we all held our breath, hoping he could negotiate the turns without flipping the bus.

To make matters more frightening, we could see the headlights of a car coming up the hill.
Evel's bus and the car zoomed past each other.

When the car pulled up next to us in the parking lot, it was Benny Kirby, one of our overnight engineers, just coming to work.
He rolled down his window and said --and I'm not making this up -- "Geez, I don't know who that was in that bus, but he thinks he's Evel Knievel!"

I said, "Benny, when you get inside, ask someone who was driving that bus."

Anyhow, happy birthday Evel Knievel.
He turns 69 this week.

__________________________________________

A THURSDAY FEELING

By Dan Miller
October 11, 2007

My 8-year old McKensie woke up Tuesday morning in a playful, buoyant mood.
Now that's something I simply can't relate to at 7:30 a.m.
I usually need an hour or two before I can get beyond staring at the floor.

As McKensie was pulling the brush through her hair, and doing a little dance to some inner music running through her mind, she said to my wife, "I've got a Thursday feeling!"
Now, remember this was on Tuesday.

If she's so happy, I thought, why a "Thursday feeling"..... why doesn't she say "I've got a Friday feeling."
Isn't Friday usually the day when people relax after making it through the week, and prepare for a fun weekend?
It doesn't work that way with my daughter.
For now, Thursdays are her favorite days.

Here's why.
That's the day she gets to meet with her "reading buddy" at school.
She spends time with a pre-first boy, listening to him read, and then reading books to him.
It's an activity she has looked forward to since she herself was a "pre-firster" and was a "reading buddy" to a big 3rd grader.

I'm not sure, but I think she considers her little "reading buddy" sort of like a pet.
I suspect that -- after reading with him -- she'd really like to feed him a biscuit and take him for a walk.
But that's not part of the agenda.

So why, you might ask, did she get a "Thursday feeling" on a Tuesday?
Well, Tuesday is now apparently rivaling Thursday in her ranking of favorite days.... and can easily trigger in her that whimsical mood.

Tuesdays she gets to sing with her school choral group.

And, not only that, but on this particular Tuesday her teacher was going to announce which role she would get in her upcoming class play.
Thus, the "Thursday feeling" on a Tuesday.

Ain't childhood magical?

As for me, just getting an "Another day feeling" makes me feel pretty good.

________________________________________

AT HOME IN THE WORLD

By Dan Miller
October 9, 2007

Familiar territory -- whether it be a place or a meal -- seems to make people comfortable.
So I found it quite comfortable -- other than the unusual October heat -- when I got to "experience the world" without leaving Nashville.

I admit, I'm not always perfectly relaxed when I step outside my own culture, but -- when I do -- it's always fascinating and stimulating.
Karen and I took our 8-year old daughter McKensie to the Celebration of Cultures Festival in Centennial Park over the weekend.
What a delightful event it was.
Nashville has become a culturally enriched "mini-United Nations" in recent years.

The park was lined with an exotic mix of music, dance, languages, colorful clothing, art and food.

We got to see the authentic customs and traditions of such places as Burundi, Ethiopia, Laos, Bolivia, Mexico, the Philippines, China, Ghana and many others.
McKensie (and her mother) even joined a large group of drummers, pounding out a continuing rhythm that, quite visibly, got right inside the feet of everyone participating or just standing around.

And there was the food.
Lots of it.
Asian, Ethiopian, Italian, Greek, Caribbean, Thai, Cajun, Hispanic, Native American Indian, Scottish and so many others.
And the three of us were hungry.

We walked along the rows of food vendors trying to decide.
What would it be?

Along the way we sampled a few pastries from outside our usual sphere of choices.
Finally, with stomachs growling, the time had come to choose.
But what?

So much food, and it all looked scrumptious and inviting.

Then suddenly, shining like a beacon in the distance, we saw one particular food booth.
We made our decision.
Fried chicken, turnip greens, corn, macaroni & cheese, strawberries, fudge pie and sweet tea!

If you were raised in the south, and you've ever traveled abroad -- even figuratively -- you'll understand that craving for the "comfort food" back home.

We just couldn't resist.

___________________________________________

WEIRD STUFF I STUMBLED UPON

By Dan Miller
October 5, 2007

I always enjoy the weird stuff that turns up while I'm surfing the internet.

Earlier this week I was browsing websites while researching the 50th anniversary of the first man-made object to orbit the earth.
That, of course, would be Sputnik 1, launched by the U.S.S.R on October 4, 1957.

For those too young to remember the news of that launch, I can tell you it was actually a scary time.
All we knew for sure was what we heard on the news..... that our feared rival in the cold war, the Soviets, had put an artificial device of some sort over our heads, circling the earth, and there was nothing we could do about it.
Our imaginations were running wild.
But it all worked out fine.

Anyhow, while surfing the internet, I happened across a few totally unrelated facts, probably not worth mentioning.... probably not verifiable.... but I'll mention 10 of them anyway.

1.) The letters KGB stand for Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti

2.) The only 15 letter word that can be spelled without repeating a letter is "uncopyrightable"

3.) Right handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people

4.) The cigarette lighter was invented before the match

5.) The average life of a major league baseball is 7 pitches

6.) There are only four words in the English language which end in "dous"....
tremendous, horrendous, stupendous and hazardous

7.) "Stewardesses" is the longest English word that is typed with only the left hand

8.) The most productive day of the work week is Tuesday

9.) In the year 2000, Pope John Paul II was named an Honorary Harlem Globetrotter

10.) Donkeys kill more people every year than do plane crashes

So there.... if things get dull at the dinner table tonight, you have 10 good conversation starters.

_______________________________________________

SIMPLICITY

By Dan Miller
October 2, 2007

I'm intrigued at how simple words, or actions, can have such a lasting impact on people.

That's why I included the photo of Walden Pond.
That's the place Henry David Thoreau spent two years living and writing about simplicity more than a century and a half ago.

I've heard Oprah Winfrey talk about how -- when she was a very young girl living here in Nashville -- she happened to be in the same room with Tish Hooker who, almost in passing, told her she was "so pretty."
Oprah had never been told that before.
I don't know whether Tish even recalls making that comment to a little girl so many years ago.
But those simple words boosted Oprah's spirit and confidence, and -- to this day -- she counts it as a crucial moment in her life.

Now, this was certainly no big life-altering deal.... but when I was a young teenager, I was wearing a green shirt one day.
Our next door neighbor, Nina Beckum, casually commented that "green was my color".... that I, "looked handsome in green."
That may or may not have been the case, but even now -- half a century later -- those simple words still resonate with me, and I usually feel a certain comfort when I wear something green.

And how about this.
Once, on a television show in California about 18 years ago, I made Steve Allen laugh.
I won't bore you with what I said, but -- trust me -- I had grown up watching and laughing at Steve Allen on television.... and the fact that he chuckled at something I said made me feel quite "validated" at that moment, and I still think about it.
In fact, I still use the same silly quip, when the occasion presents itself.

A nice, simple little moment in life.
It can happen anywhere with anybody.

Maybe it's an aunt or uncle, or a casual acquaintance who -- perhaps years ago -- laughed at something you said....
Or offered an unexpected word of encouragement....
Maybe it was just a casual comment or compliment from a friend...
Or even someone admiring, or criticizing, your attempt at art....

A simple word -- or a seemingly inconsequential encounter -- can have such a lasting impact on a person's life story.

_________________________________________________

THE FACES OF EVE AND OTHERS

By Dan Miller
September 27, 2007

I clearly recall almost every scene from the 1957 movie “The Three Faces of Eve”.

I remember it so well because, just days ago, I saw it again -- on the big screen.
Joanne Woodward won the Oscar as Best Actress in 1958 for her performance.

The movie was based on true events that unfolded in Augusta, Georgia in the mid 1950s.
It was about a young woman from nearby Edgefield, South Carolina who -- while being treated for severe headaches and blackouts -- was diagnosed with multiple personality disorder.
She was possessed by three distinct and conflicting personalities.... Eve White, Eve Black, and Jane.
The case was considered a milestone in understanding that disorder.

Because it happened in Augusta.... and because the book was written by two Augusta psychiatrists.... and, perhaps, because Joanne Woodward was a Georgia girl, the World Premiere of the movie was staged at the Miller Theatre, on September 18, 1957, there in my hometown.

Many Augustans still remember that night as an elaborate social and community event, attended by big wigs from Hollywood and scores of local dignitaries.

Last week -- to mark the 50th anniversary of that World Premiere -- Augusta staged another impressive celebration, and hundreds of folks paid to see “The Three Faces of Eve” once again projected onto the big screen.

The old Miller Theatre wasn’t available for the anniversary event, because it’s being renovated....
So they held it just across the street at the Imperial Theatre.... another classic downtown theatre that’s already been beautifully restored.... and a place where I spent many hours of my youth.

Among the special guests invited for the 50th anniversary was Jim Davis, an Augusta broadcasting icon, who had served as emcee that night in 1957.

Another special guest was “Eve” herself.
Her real name is Chris Sizemore, and the event organizers found her living in Florida -- doing just fine, mentally and physically -- and they brought her to Georgia for the festivities.

Because of my family connection to the old Miller Theatre.... and because of my 45 year friendship with Jim Davis.... I was invited to take part.
So I drove to Augusta last week, accompanied by my daughter Darcy, and joined in a celebration even Hollywood would be proud of.

In one of the attached photos, you’ll see “Eve” (Chris Sizemore) seated between Darcy and me as she autographed her book for us.

Prior to the screening, my duties were to introduce my pal Jim Davis on stage, and talk with him about his recollections of that night 50 years earlier.

But before I introduced Jim, I took time to inform the audience that I was standing there on stage in the very spot where -- more than 50 years earlier -- Eddy Arnold had stood performing, while a kid named Danny Miller (that’s me) sat a few feet away, on the very front row.
I even pointed out the exact seat I sat in.

I reminisced how, years later -- in Nashville -- I mentioned to Eddy that I had been there in Augusta in the 1950s.... on the front row.... watching him perform at the Imperial Theatre.
And I told the audience how Eddy answered me, saying, “Ah yes, I remember you... the little boy in the short pants!”

That Eddy Arnold is a hoot!

Anyhow, the 50th anniversary of the premiere of "The Three Faces Of Eve" was a magical night for me, back in my hometown, meeting old friends, and cousins (some of whom I’d never met) and being inside a beautiful theatre I’d not visited for more than 40 years.

And, by the way, I’ve never told Eddy Arnold this.... but, I had on “long pants” that day when he performed in Augusta.
I think he may have me confused with someone else.

PIPE FITTER ON THE ROOF

By Dan Miller
September 24, 2007

Peeking through the Venetian blinds, I could see a vertical pipe about 15 inches high.
And, wouldn't you know it, that old pipe carried a flood of memories.

It happened last week while visiting Georgia, accompanied by my daughter Darcy.
We happened to drive by the house where I grew up.
A "for sale" sign was out front.... and I couldn't resist stopping.

As we walked along the sidewalk taking pictures, the young lady who lives there suddenly appeared on the front porch and invited us to come inside.
She said the house has been on the market since last October, and that whenever she spots someone looking, she invites them in.

I explained that it was my home growing up, and we weren't really looking to buy.... still, she insisted that we take a tour.
Practically every square foot of that house stirred up its own recollection.

There was my father's work space in the basement.... the little nook where our phone was placed.... the fireplace in the living room.... the gate in the backyard.... the tiny closet in the upstairs hallway.... my old bedroom.... and there, through the window of my bedroom I could see, mounted in the concrete on the roof of the back porch, the pipe sticking up.
More than 50 years ago, I helped my father attach that pipe to the concrete.

My parents had just purchased their first TV set, and since there was no TV station yet in Augusta -- we had to receive broadcast signals from cities that already had stations.... places like Atlanta, Charlotte, Charleston and even Jacksonville.

Zack (my father) came up with a quick, effective and extremely cheap way to receive those distant signals.
He bought a tall pole.... mounted a directional antenna on top of it.... and fitted the pole (on a ball bearing of some sort) into that base pipe in the photo.
When it was time for evening TV viewing, my father would crawl out through that window, slowly turn the pole, aiming the antenna toward distant television signals.

One of us kids would be assigned to stand on the stairs [next photo] and relay [yell] the message that came [was yelled] from someone downstairs watching for a clear picture to appear on the screen.
That was our nightly ritual, and might be repeated several times during any given evening of viewing.

As I became more experienced, it generally became my job to crawl through the window and actually turn the antenna pole.
To make things easier, Zack put little ink marks on the concrete to indicate the proper direction for each city.

After only a few months into this nightly rite, Zack simplified the whole process in a way only he would come up with.
He attached some sort of washing machine motor, with little cables and pullies, to the pole.

Downstairs he placed a jerry-rigged "remote" [basically, and on/off switch] next to the TV set, so we could sit and watch the screen while the motorized antenna rotated back and forth, seeking out the strongest signal.
Somehow, it usually worked.

Last week I stood there, looking through the window at that rusty pipe, and thought about my father, and what a clever man he was.

And about how -- even with digital recording, and satellites, and high-definition, and 500 channels -- watching television will never again be as exciting and fulfilling.

_____________________________________________

WANNA LIVE A REALLY LONG TIME?

By Dan Miller
September 17, 2007

It's simple..... just live in Bergen County, New Jersey.
Oh, and you'll need to be an Asian-American woman as well.

Hard to believe, but the "average" Asian-American woman in Bergen County, N.J. lives to reach her 91st birthday.
That's the average!

When I first read that little fact a year ago, my first thought was....
well, we don't know exactly how many Asian-American women have lived and died in Bergen County, New Jersey.

I figured if only 2 or 3 Asian-American women have lived there.... and one of them happened to live to 98 or 100, then the figures could be unnaturally skewed.
On the other hand, if the number is in the thousands, then it could really signify something.
So I looked it up...
As of 2000, there were more than 80,000 Asian-Americans living in Bergen County, N.J., so the statistics are impressive.

And this is interesting.... according to Associated Press medical writer Lauran Neergaard, scientists have long thought that the longer life spans enjoyed by Asian people would level out once immigrant families started eating Western diets.
But that hasn't happened.
A Harvard study, after examining second-generation Asian-Americans, found their longevity advantage persists.
So, go figure.

All that information comes from a report released in 2006 by the Harvard School of Public Health.

I have more advice for you on living a long time.
Try to avoid being an American Indian man living in rural South Dakota.... because, on average, you'll die at about 58 years old.
That's the worst in the U.S.

What's the reason for the wide variations? ..... it's hard to say.
According to Dr. Christopher Murray, several factors come into play, including.... access to medical care.... ancestry.... geography.... how people live their lives.... physical activity.... the complicated tapestry of local and cultural industry and customs.... what people eat.... alchohol and tobacco use.... blood pressure.... cholesterol and obesity.

I looked over the entire list of longevity expectations -- by states -- and found Hawaii ranked number 1.
That would seem to make sense, since Hawaii is considered an island paradise.
But, on the other hand, many other states where people enjoy unusually long lives are in the north, where it gets quite cold.... states like Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Maine, North Dakota, etc... So perhaps there's an advantage to living in a colder climate.

Here in Tennessee we're not doing all that well.... 45th, with an overall average life expectancy of 75.1 years.
The longest life-expectancy in our state is in Williamson County, at 78.8 years.
Cross the line into Davidson County, and your life-expectancy drops by exactly 4 years to 74.8 years.
Go live in McNairy and Dyer counties in West Tennessee, and you'll lop almost another two years off your life expectancy.... with an average life span of 73 years.

I'm always cynical about these types of research findings.
Too many variables.

For example, if a Native American man of 57 left rural South Dakota and moved to Hawaii -- would his life expectancy immediately go up.... or would it take years (perhaps more than he has left) to increase his life span?

I'll end with one statement we can all agree on.
It comes from American journalist Henry Louis Mencken.
He said, "No matter how long he lives, no man ever becomes as wise as the average woman of 48."

______________________________________________

YOU TALKIN' TO ME?

By Dan Miller
September 10, 2007

People often ask about memorable, or odd, moments in my broadcasting career.
Here's one.

It was a big election night in 1970, and I'd been working at Channel 4 (then WSM-TV) for only a matter of months.
The station was broadcasting continuous live election returns from our main studio, with a big fancy set, specifically built for that night.

All the returns were displayed on a giant tally board behind the anchor desk.

Jud Collins (that's him in the photo).... who'll forever be Nashville's "Mr. Television".... was the anchor.
Actually he was more of a ringmaster.
He sat at the center of the big desk reading the numbers, interviewing candidates, tossing to reporters in the studio and at campaign headquarters around town.

In those days, on election nights, almost every candidate would -- at some point during the evening -- drop by our studios to be interviewed.
Of course, they would also stop by channels 2 and 5.

Being fairly new at the station, I wasn't involved in the actual election coverage.
As I recall, I was simply doing "announcing" that night.... station breaks, etc.

I would occasionally wander into the studio and stand watching Jud masterfully handle the chaos.

As I stood there looking around, I suddenly heard Jud say, on the air, "I see Dan Miller standing over there, someone hand Dan a mic and he can do the interview for us."
A studio worker quickly handed me a microphone, and -- within seconds -- the red light came on the camera and I was standing there, on live television, interviewing an older, white haired gentleman.

This immediately created a couple of problems for me.
I didn't know whether the man had won or lost.
I didn't know what office he was vying for.
As a matter of fact, I had no idea who he was!

All I knew was -- I was on live TV -- and Jud Collins wanted me to interview this man, so he must be someone important.
It was decision time.
I could either admit my ignorance, or fake it.
I faked it.

"Well, how are you feeling tonight?" I asked.
He answered something like, "Good, it's early, there are lots of returns still coming in, and we're optimistic."

I went on, "Anything you'd like to say to the voters?"

He gave me some answer right out of 'politics 101', talking about the collective wisdom and loyalty of Tennessee voters.
Hmm... I guessed he must be talking about a statewide office.

Now I was getting confident.

"Well sir, what are your immediate plans for now?"
He said, "Of course, I'll be going to my office tomorrow to continue doing our best for the people of Nashville", or something to that effect.

Hmmmm.... now I'm thinking he must be an office holder here in town.

I thanked him, wished him well, and hurried out of the studio.

One of our news producers was nearby.
"Who the hell did I just interview?" I asked.
"That was Clifford Allen, the Metro Tax Assessor" he said, with a puzzled look on his face, "He's here in support of Senator Gore (Senior)."
"OK, thanks" I said nonchalantly, "I just wanted to make sure."

Looking back, I'm fairly confident I pulled it off.

I don't think Jud, or the audience, or Clifford Allen, knew the truth.
But since confession is good for the soul, and since 37 years have passed, I think I'm safe in saying....
Hey Jud -- if you're reading this -- I HAD NO IDEA WHO I WAS INTERVIEWING!

And a footnote.
Al Gore Senior lost that election to Bill Brock.

__________________________________________________

EASY MONEY

By Dan Miller
September 5, 2007

Ahh, the simple joy of finding coins on the ground.
Even if it's just a penny.

Once I pick up a coin, it's officially mine, free and clear.
No pangs of conscience over whether it should be returned because -- without exception -- it's impossible to know who dropped it.

Years ago, I used to have a recurring dream about finding coin after coin in a ditch or stream.... a seemingly unending number of coins, usually silver dollars.
As fast as I scooped up a handful, more would come into sight.
It was rather exhilarating.

Actually, I still have that dream from time to time.
I'm sure the psychoanalysts would say it's some kind of deep-rooted desire for easy money.
Could be, and that's OK with me.

It's odd how certain things will stick in your mind.... but I recall one particular day in 3rd or 4th grade at Joseph R. Lamar elementary school.
During recess, I found a quarter on the playground.
To me, that was a significant amount, so I took it to the office and told Mr. McCullum, our principal, of my discovery.
He looked at the quarter, put it on his desk, and told me to wait until the end of the day -- and if nobody came forward to claim the quarter, I could keep it.

I remember how the day crawled by, as I waited for the final bell.
The minute school ended I headed to Mr. McCullum's office and got the good news....
Nobody had claimed the quarter, so it was mine!

My cousin Frank Neal walked home with me that day, and we headed straight for the drug store, where we each got a Fudgesicle.... and I even had a nickel left over.
More than a half century later, that remains fresh in my mind as a really special day.

Some people are better than others at finding coins.
My wife Karen is a touring professional.
It's rare for her to walk across a parking lot or sidewalk without finding a coin or two.
I'm highly suspicious that she has some sort of metal detector implanted in her feet.
I only wish we'd kept a running tab on how much she's found (for tax purposes of course!)

Actually, some people do keep track of the coins they find.
I ran across a website where a guy in New Jersey writes every day about how much money he, or someone in his family, found (or didn't find) that day.

He usually includes interesting little comments about the circumstances of that day's discovery.
He's been doing it for years.
CLICK RIGHT HERE and check it out.

For some reason, I find it compelling reading.

It is, after all, the stuff that dreams are made of.

________________________________________________

CELEBRATING FREE FORM WRITING

By Dan Miller
August 30, 2007

I last tried this in 2005, as I pondered what to write about my wife's birthday.

At that time, I called it "stream of consciousness" writing, though I think it was closer to being "free form" writing.
They're different, but similar.... and I'd explain the difference -- but I'm really not qualified to do that. (In other words, I don't really grasp the difference.)
The precise date of that earlier effort was March 18, 2005.
THIS IS A LINK to that essay.

Anyone who reads it would have to agree -- it was easily Pulitzer Prize worthy!
I was robbed!

It had all the ingredients necessary for such acclaimed literary consideration....
Fascinating characters.... (my wife Karen -- me -- and Jim Nabors)
An exotic location.... (Hawaii)
A scrumptious delicacy.... (humuhumunukunukuapua'a, the official state fish of Hawaii)
Lines that stirred deep thoughts.... (Why is he writing this? Has he lost his mind?)

Now, I'm sitting here trying to come up with something to write about the date August 30th.

Years ago, a professor taught me a trick about "free form" (or maybe it was "stream of consciousness") writing.
Think of a few semi-related facts or ideas, he suggested.... then start writing, and see where it takes you.
Alright.... a couple of related facts:
August 30th is the date (in 1937) when Joe Louis defeated Tommy Farr in 15 rounds for the heavyweight boxing title.
August 30th is the date (in 1974) when NASA helped launch the first Dutch satellite from Vandenberg AFB in California.

My wife is not much of a boxing fan, but somewhere around 1980 -- on one of our early dates -- I completely surprised her by taking her to a professional boxing match being held in a hotel ballroom downtown.
Until we walked into that room, she had no idea what kind of event we would be attending that night.
We had front row seats.... so close to the action that sweat and blood from the fighters was something we had to watch out for.
Even 27 years later I'm still reminded from time to time about that "surprise" date.... and about the nice clothes Karen was wearing that night.... and about what flying sweat and blood can do to nice clothes.

Speaking of flying... the photo attached to this is from NASA.... a composite of more than 200 images made by satellites orbiting the earth.... showing the lights of the United States as seen from space.
The photos were made on the night of August 30, 1997.
That, coincidentally, was the date on which Karen and I got married.

So that image literally shows our wedding night.... shining like diamonds.... one of the best nights of my life.
And the first night of 10 wonderful years.... and counting.

I'll close for now.
I'm taking the day off.

___________________________________________________

A READER'S MOTHER RESPONDS

By Dan Miller
August 27, 2007

In my previous essay, I wrote about my daughter's passion for reading.
It's a passion I attribute directly to McKensie's mother, and to her wonderful teachers.

Thanks to all of you who sent emails.... I read and appreciate every comment.

One in particular I'd like to share.
It came to me from Kathy Halliburton:

Dear Dan,
Your third grader sounds a lot like mine. Kandace just turned 9 this past Sunday and is a reading machine.
My other three children (15, 14 and 10 years old) moan and groan when they see Kandace coming toward them with a book in her hand.

"Mom, can't you make her read silently?", they beg.

She is always reading aloud and wanting an audience.
Sometimes when I pass by her bedroom door, I see her on the bed... surrounded by pillows... a book in her hand...
And in her voice I hear each of the wonderful teachers she has had.

I hear the patience of Mrs. Hoosier, her preschool teacher.
I hear the soft voice of her kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Simpkins.
I hear the youthful excitement of Miss Justice, her first grade teacher.
I hear the laughter and humor of her second grade teacher, Miss Howell.
Even though she has only been in third grade a few weeks, I already hear the southern sweetness of Mrs. Chandler.

How blessed Kandace has been to have these teachers in her life.

We will just say a little prayer that McKensie and Kandace will keep their love for reading.
Who knows? Maybe some day they will have the wonderful opportunity of teaching someone how to read!

Have a great day.
Kathy Halliburton

Thanks Kathy.
A really nice tribute to Kandace's teachers.

_______________________________________

READING THE READER

By Dan Miller
August 22, 2007

In case you've forgotten, there's a strong emphasis on reading in third grade.

My 8-year old daughter McKensie is now a third-grader, and I'm pretty sure -- when it comes to reading -- she's ready.
This summer she spent hours immersed in, and enchanted by, books.

In fact -- summer or not -- whenever there's an opportunity to devour a book, she'll do it.
She's a regular at the library.
She and her mother read every night in bed before lights out....
She'll read while riding in the car.... on a stool in our kitchen....
even on an airplane flying across the Atlantic.

I asked my wife how many books McKensie read over the summer, and the answer took me by surprise.
"At least 50 or more" she answered.... "how many did you read?"

"Uh, a bit fewer than that" I said.... "maybe 48 or 49 fewer."

McKensie especially enjoys reading out loud to her mother, and often to me.
As she reads, she'll ask -- from time to time -- whether I'm following the story.
I assure her that I'm hanging on every word.

And I am.

I hear the words, and I hear the names.... Junie B. Jones, Strawberry Girl, Pippi Longstocking, Cam Jansen and others.... but, truthfully, I might not always follow the plot and the character development.

It's not because I'm not interested.
She has my undivided attention.....
It's just that I'm usually focused on the reader, not the story.

I watch her little facial expressions as she reads....
I marvel at her surprisingly accurate inflections, and how she can sound out, and solve, the mystery of complicated pronunciations.
She'll chuckle at the funny parts....
She'll express genuine concern about any trouble confronting the characters....
And, without hesitation, she'll ask for definitions of words she doesn't know.

As I listen and watch her, I always think the same thing....
Wasn't it just a few days ago when this little girl was crawling around on the floor making goo-goo sounds?
Can this be the same person, reading almost anything put in front of her with an impressive level of comprehension?

There's no doubt that reading a book can stir up wonderful adventures for a child.
And for a grownup nearby, it can be a wonder to behold.

Here's my advice.
When a child reads to you.... follow the story.... but not so much that you're distracted from the best part.

______________________________________________

GOIN' TO GRACELAND

By Dan Miller
August 16, 2007

Thirty years have passed since that day I heard the bulletin bells ringing on the United Press wire machines.

Up until that moment, it had been a rather uneventful Tuesday afternoon in the Channel 4 newsroom.

My co-anchor Carol Marin and I walked over to read the printed wire copy.
Those old machines printed everything in upper case letters.
The dateline was Memphis, Tennessee.... and the one-line bulletin read something like, "MEMPHIS POLICE ARE REPORTING THAT ELVIS PRESLEY HAS DIED AT BAPTIST MEMORIAL HOSPITAL."

That was the first in a rapid succession of bulletins from Memphis that would come across the wires during the next few hours.

Our news director, Mike Kettenring -- who knew very little about the enormous popularity of Elvis -- asked if we thought this would be a big story, and whether we should send a news crew over to Memphis.
Almost in unison, Carol and I answered, "Yes, get them on the road now!"

I quickly typed out a short piece of copy, and headed to our announcer's booth to read the bulletin over the air.
On the screen we simply put up the word "Bulletin"....
I read the words slowly and clearly.... then repeated them.... knowing this would be emotional news for many people.

Within 30 minutes of that first bulletin crossing the wires, our initial news crew was out the door, headed to Memphis.

One of them was reporter Alan Nelson....

The other was photographer Jim Buckner.
That's Jim in the photo next to this essay.

And if you look very closely at the other photo, taken in front of Graceland, you'll see reporter Alan Nelson standing just behind that motorcycle.

Jim is no longer a photographer.... these days he's a video editor who assembles many of the stories you see on our WSMV newscasts.

Earlier this week, I asked Jim a few questions about August 16, 1977.

(Q)....... Jim, when did you arrive at Graceland, and what was going on when you got there?
(JIM)... We got there in the afternoon, still daylight. It was all still in the early stages, and already it seemed there were at least a couple of thousand people. A lot of them were local Memphis people outside the gate.
Media people were arriving the whole time. Of course, you already had the Memphis stations and some from Arkansas there.
I remember at the time lots of celebrities would show up in limousines .... I've forgotten their names, but it was fascinating to see the amount of star power that Elvis had.

(Q)....... Did you end up spending the night in Memphis?
(JIM)... Oh yeah, right there in front of the mansion. We stayed there 24 hours. We sat down next to that big gate at Graceland, and we tried to get a little sleep.
We had parked close to a half mile away from Graceland and had hiked the rest of the way.

(Q)....... What was the prevailing mood of the people who had gathered?
(JIM)... It was kinda somber. Everybody was still trying to love Elvis. He was obviously their favorite entertainer.

(Q)....... As I recall, there was a terrible accident there in front of Graceland that night, wasn't there?
(JIM)... Yes, at that point I was sort of nodding off. I was sitting back against the Graceland gate, with my eyes closed, and heard this loud, muffler type thing.
Up until that point, it was so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop.... then, all of a sudden, we heard this muffler out of nowhere.... we looked up and saw this car coming down the street, and then hitting three or four people, and sent them flying like rag dolls.
I thought I was dreaming.
Once I decided it was no dream, I just had to take my camera and start shooting. I think two people were killed. It was sad.

(Q)....... Where'd you eat while you were there?
(JIM)... (long pause).... That's a good question. I'm not sure we did eat. We couldn't leave, you know, there was so much going on.

(Q)....... Have you ever been back to Graceland since that day?
(JIM)... No, never even driven by it.... I wouldn't even know which way to turn.

Thanks Jim.
After 30 years, I get to say again, "great job!"

By the way, Jim was right.
Early in the evening of August 16, 1977, it's estimated that between 2,000 and 3,000 people quickly gathered in front of Graceland.
By the next day, the crowd had grown to around 20,000.
And before the week was over, more than 80,000 people had filed past the casket containing Elvis Presley's body.

Now here we are -- 30 years later -- and roughly that same number of people converged on Memphis to remember Elvis.
Many of them were not even born when he died.

So what, you might ask, is it?
What's the power and appeal of a southern rock and roll singer that has captivated so many people for so many years?

Those of us who were there in the 1950s, and experienced the Elvis phenomenon, know the answer.....
We just can't find the words.

____________________________________________________

HOT MAN ON CAMPUS

By Dan Miller
August 14, 2007

Yes, I was a hot student.... but I don't want my daughter to be one.

I'm sure you'll agree that a comfortable learning environment is a big advantage for today's young people.
No student, anywhere, should have to suffer through these incredibly hot days in steamy classrooms without air conditioning.

But, having said that.... and at the risk of sounding like a relic from ancient times.... I can't help but wonder, were we just tougher and more resilient all those decades ago?
Or did we just never taste the liberating nectar of air conditioned classrooms?

Growing up in Georgia -- one of the hottest places you'll find -- we never had air conditioning in our classrooms. Never!
We didn't even have a fan.

As you can imagine, in the minds of teachers and principals, a fan conjured up images of severed fingers and worse.
And our school year lasted all the way into June, and resumed in the hot, early days of September.

From kindergarten through my senior year in high school, I never once sat in an air conditioned classroom.
And I never really thought much about it.

Oh, I do recall it being quite uncomfortable in many of the rooms....
And it was slightly helpful when a classroom was on the shady side of the building....
And I couldn't always concentrate on the lessons because I was too hot and sweaty....
And I was miserable.... and I'm certain my grades and disposition suffered!
Heck, if we'd had air conditioned classrooms, I might have occasionally been mistaken for a good student.

Wait a minute.... I'm back where I started.
We want this world to be better for our kids than it was for us.
Their grades, their attitudes about learning, and even their well being, are at stake.

So let's keep the phone number of the AC repairman handy!

_____________________________________________

A CRANKIN' GOOD TIME

By Dan Miller
August 9, 2007

It was quite likely the hottest Sunday since cave dwellers sweltered as lava oozed from craters in prehistoric Tennessee.
Yet, thousands turned out for ice cream.

Maybe the extreme heat convinced folks that sampling dozens of varieties of homemade ice cream would be the perfect way to cool down.
When it was over, I'm guessing somewhere between three and four thousand people had braved the heat for the 2007 version of the Purity Miss Martha's Ice Cream Crankin' to benefit the Martha O'Bryan Center.

My wife Karen and I served as co-chairs for the event.

For Karen, that meant....
attending numerous meetings....
helping to organize and solicit volunteers....
seeking out and signing corporate sponsors....
helping book entertainment and security....
working at the festival site, setting up tables and signs, even picking up sticks, and countless other duties.
She even bought and set up bubble machines, to make the entrances a little more fun for the kids.

For me, it meant occasionally lifting a heavy box for Karen, and whatever else she asked me to do.

Those cute little girls in the photo are the inaugural corp of "Purity Popsicle Girls" who spent the afternoon passing out colorful popsicles and other free refreshments to all in attendance.
They did a good job, even though -- by the end of the day -- their shirts, lips and faces were stained with an interesting shade of grape or cherry.... sort of a "popsicle-ish" color.
We're still trying to figure out how that could have happened.

Near the end of the day, it was almost time for Karen and me to take the stage to announce the winners in the various ice cream categories.
I was a bit concerned because I couldn't locate Karen, who was making her rounds in the crowd.

I mentioned to emcee Jim Day that I didn't know where Karen was.
Jim graciously said, "I'll look around and help you find her... what is she wearing?"
I thought for a moment, then admitted, "You know, for the life of me, I can't remember exactly what she has on."

A few minutes later when Karen showed up, Jim took pleasure pointing out to the crowd, "Dan couldn't remember what his wife is wearing."
As we walked on stage, the humor in his observation was obvious....
Karen and I both had on identical "Ice Cream Crankin' t-shirts".

It just goes to show that, unless I glance down, I'm usually not even sure what I have on!

It was a fun day, with lots of money raised for an important community effort.

______________________________________________

SHOW ME SOME IDENTIFICATION!

By Dan Miller
August 3, 2007

OK, I admit it.... I got a ticket for jaywalking 20 years ago.

Karen and I were meandering along the sidewalk on Ventura Boulevard in Los Angeles.
It was fairly late in the evening.... traffic was lighter than usual.... and we wanted to get to the other side.
So instead of walking about 50 feet to the crosswalk, we simply scurried across the street, hand in hand.

Mere seconds after safely making it to the other side.... seemingly out of nowhere.... a motorcycle cop pulled up right next to us.

"Sir, do you know it's illegal to jaywalk.... may I see your driver's license please?" he said.

"Well, yes sir, I knew that, and I'm sorry," I stammered.... "but I'm not driving, so I'm not even sure I have my driver's license with me."

"Well, then show me some identification" he said.

"OK, but just for my enlightenment" I asked, "is it illegal to go walking without carrying ID?"
"Are we now required to always have identification papers on us?"

He didn't answer.... and from the look on his face, and the nudge I got from Karen, I figured it was best for me just to be quiet.

I handed him my driver's license (which suddenly turned up in my wallet).
He did a little paperwork and handed me a jaywalking citation.
I believe I had to pay a $25 fine.

I was reminded of this recently when our newscast contained a story about people in Tennessee being arrested for "possibly" being illegal immigrants.
From the accounts I heard, they were taken into custody initially for "not having proper ID."

Now, whether or not they were illegal immigrants is not the issue here....
My concern is that people were detained for nothing more than not having identification on them, even though they weren't driving a vehicle, or doing anything else that would require identification papers.

I've not done a lot of research, but as far as I can determine -- in our country -- nobody is routinely required by law to carry ID with them at all times.
True, it might actually be a splendid idea to carry ID of some sort.... but part of being "free" is that we don't have to.
It's something to think about.

By the way, after that Los Angeles police officer gave me the jaywalking ticket, my instinct was to ask him why he would give me a ticket, and NOT give one to Karen, who was walking right beside me, holding my hand.
Wisely, I didn't ask.... and that was a good thing for the peace of all mankind.

Karen likes to say the cop assumed she was my daughter.

___________________________________________

TOM SNYDER

By Dan Miller
July 31, 2007

I can't let the death of Tom Snyder pass by without a personal comment.
I greatly admired Tom.
He was a broadcaster's broadcaster.

Even though he spent time with presidents, world leaders, famous authors, entertainers, politicians, business tycoons and star athletes, he would still prefer to sit and talk with a person who worked in local radio or TV.
Informal chats with fellow broadcasters seemed to stimulate the core of his being.
Tom, I believe, always fancied himself a local broadcaster who was dabbling for awhile on the national stage.

In the 1970s, every weeknight, I was one of some six million Americans who were regular viewers of the show that followed Johnny Carson on NBC called, simply, "Tomorrow".
Watching Tom masterfully conduct those revealing, one on one interviews became required viewing for those of us working the late shifts.

Tom strongly believed in the power of people and their words.
He didn't use a fancy set.... his interviews were mostly done in black limbo.
He didn't feel the need to put distracting banners on the screen with the guest's name.
His interviews could, at times, be magical.

The simple truth is.... we all watched to see Tom, no matter who the guest might be.... we knew Tom, at least, would be fascinating.

I first met Tom Snyder in 1989 when -- much to my surprise and delight -- he invited me to be a guest on his ABC Radio talk show.
At the appointed time, I showed up at the ABC studios in Hollywood and was escorted to the green room to wait for my turn with Tom.

I confess I was nervous, wondering if I'd have anything interesting to say.
Suddenly from down the hall I heard that loud, familiar voice approaching.
I always knew he was a big guy, but he was still a surprising presence when he entered the green room and shook my hand.
A lumbering 6'5", with that laugh that immediately brought to mind Danny Ackroyd's on-the-money spoofs of Tom on Saturday Night Live.

He called me "young man" and told me he enjoyed my work on the Pat Sajak show, and that he had watched me when I was anchoring the news at KCBS.
He then asked if I wanted any coffee while I waited to be interviewed.
That's stuck in my mind...... Tom Snyder asking if he could get me some coffee.

On the air, we talked a little about the Sajak show on CBS, where I worked as a cast member.
But for most of the hour we talked about the old days of radio and TV, and some mutual friends we had made along the way.
We took calls from listeners across the country.
We talked about his days hosting "Tomorrow", and about NBC's ill-advised decision to add a live studio audience, not to mention a co-host (gossip columnist Rona Barrett).
He wasn't shy about making it clear it was a change he never wanted or approved of.
Tom articulated the dramatic shift in the dynamics of the show for both him and the home audience.
No longer was he talking through the camera directly to the people at home.... now he found himself performing for the studio audience, with the home viewers on the outside looking in.

After my appearance on his radio show, Tom told me he'd like for me to consider substituting for him occasionally when he was on vacation.
I thought it was just a polite little nicety...
But in the months that followed, he called and I filled-in on at least three occasions.
It was, for me, a rich and rewarding experience.

In 1993, I was back home to Nashville doing a talk show on TNN.
After my show was cancelled, I got a call from Tom's producer, asking if I'd fly to California and be a guest on Tom's CNBC cable talk show.
I would never have suspected that Tom Snyder had actually watched my little show.
It turned into another wonderful experience for me with this impressive man.

Tom had a way of making everyone he interviewed interesting.
And even if they weren't.... he was interesting enough himself to carry the load.

Now Tom, from all of us who work the late shift in Tennessee, so long and sweet dreams.

__________________________________________________

22 WEEKS!!

By Dan Miller
July 27, 2007

I'm always intrigued watching couples walking through department stores and malls.
As often as not, the man is trailing about five paces behind the woman.

Everywhere you look, women with the stamina of highly trained prize fighters, moving along aisle after aisle.... while the men, who can somehow manage to play 18 holes of golf in the blistering sun, struggle to find a place to sit down and survive.

Men, when shopping alone, tend to go after a specific target.
It's a bit like a military mission for us.
Once we've completed the mission (found the item) we pay and leave.

We men don't worry too much about comparing different versions of the item we might purchase.

We don't concern ourselves with whether there's a big sale going on (unless it's a gadget for the workbench, or perhaps some electronic device, or something to enhance our golf game).

On the other hand, women shoppers might call a friend, or a sister, and tell them about some "big sale" they've heard about.
They'll make it an afternoon "social get together".... slowly moving through racks, trying on clothes and having a great time.

My wife, bless her heart, can easily spend a 6-hour afternoon with our daughter, or a friend, or her mother.... in and out of dressing rooms, with a cart full of potential purchases.

For the life of me, I cannot imagine myself calling a buddy and saying,
"Hey, let's go try on some clothes and look at shoes!"

OK, here's what brought all this to mind (this time).
I ran across a survey of 2,000 men, commissioned by the British online clothing shop known as MissButterfly.
They surveyed British men, but I'm sure it applies to all of us.

Perhaps most astounding of the many conclusions was this:
The average man -- during his lifetime -- will spend at least 22 weeks waiting outside those little changing rooms in stores for his wife or girlfriend.
22 weeks!

That's 3,696 hours!

Such a waste.
In that amount of time, just think of all the football games, golf tournaments and boxing matches I could watch on television while snoozing on the couch!

______________________________________________

(photo - "Man Waiting" by David Malcolmson)

______________________________________________

CATCHER IN THE SLY

By Dan Miller
July 24, 2007

I don't know if such a sneaky tactic is against the rules in pro baseball.
I do know I saw it used in a game many years ago, and I've never seen it again.

People tell me I'm wrong.... that it didn't happen.... but it did.
My boyhood buddy Michael Danish and I were attending an Augusta Tigers game (Class A Sally League).

It was late in the game.
(I'm certain that's the case because, in the mid-1950s, Michael and I had very little cash so we'd usually wait in the parking lot behind homeplate, trying to catch foul balls, until the bottom of the 7th when they'd open the gates and we could get in free.)

I don't remember specifics about the game.... but I clearly recall there were runners on base when this unusual defensive strategy was put into play.

The Tigers pulled one of their outfielders from the outfield.... put catcher's equipment on him.... and positioned 2 catchers behind the plate.
One of them squatted in his proper position directly behind the plate, while the other catcher squatted about 2 or 3 feet to his right.
This allowed the pitcher a choice.... he could either throw the ball directly over the plate, or outside to the 2nd catcher.

Such a defensive strategy (if it's legal) would seem to make sense if you've got a predictable hitter at the plate, dangerous runners on base, and a "2nd catcher" with a rocket arm who can prevent a steal.

Several people, including a former major leaguer, have told me it can't be done in a professional game.... that it would be against the rules.
Well, I don't know.
I know I saw it.

I've searched the official rules of baseball on the internet and -- so far -- I find no reference to it whatsoever.

Whether it's legal in baseball -- and in the rule book -- I don't know.....
If it's not.... the umpires in Augusta that night didn't know it either.

_________________________________________

BRIDGE, DEVOTION AND QUITTING

By Dan Miller
July 20, 2007

Thousands of the country's best bridge players are in Nashville this week.
They're here to compete in the North American Bridge Championship.

Since early childhood -- and even today -- every time I hear any mention of that popular card game, I think of my mother, Frances Miller.
That's a photo of her next to this essay.

I purposely put an "early" photo because -- if she happens to be looking down from somewhere above -- that's probably one of the few photos she would actually approve of me using.

She was quite the bridge player, and would have been good, fun company for all these folks who love the game.

During all the years I was growing up, she and her group(s) would play every week, sometimes more often than that.

They were devoted friends, sisters and competitors.
They'd rotate houses.... and whenever they played at our house we kids knew to stay out of the living room and let the ladies enjoy their evening.
But we'd see and hear them in there, seated around the card table, laughing, sharing desserts, drinking coffee, playing bridge and smoking cigarettes.

In those days -- the 1950s and 1960s -- it seemed to me that almost every adult I knew smoked cigarettes, including my parents.
I don't have the official statistics, but I'd wager that -- back then -- a higher percentage of adults smoked.
It was not nearly as socially unacceptable and restricted as today.

When my Mother had some health problems, the doctor told her that she could not smoke anymore, at all.
Not only that, he told her she couldn't even be around smokers.

Here's where devotion comes in.

My father, who had been a heavy smoker for probably 40 years, stopped that very day.
Cold turkey.... he stopped.... and never mentioned it again.
He never complained, never indicated that he'd like to have a cigarette....
Never showed any signs of withdrawal.
He just never smoked again.

Anyone who's broken the cigarette habit -- and I'm one of them -- knows that's not always so easy.

And here's the other part of this story.
All those women who played bridge with my mother.... every one of them.... stopped smoking as well.
They simply gave it up.

Their priorities were right.

Giving up cigarettes was much easier than giving up my mother, and those games of bridge.
Yep, that's good old fashioned love and devotion.

________________________________________

WHERE IS BOBBY SHERMAN NOW?

By Dan Miller
July 17, 2007

Remember him? He had a pretty good string of hits 35 or more years ago.
I started thinking about Bobby Sherman when I noticed his birthday is coming up later this week, and he's turning 64.

It seems just the other day when I took my -- then -- very young son Stephen to see Bobby in concert here in Nashville.
But the reality is that three-and-a-half decades have fallen away since that night at the Municipal Auditorium.

Long before Stephen was even born, I was aware of Bobby Sherman being a regular on the show "Shindig!", from which he emerged as an authentic teenage idol.

My son was especially fond of Bobby's hit songs like "Julie (Do Ya Love Me)" and "Easy Come, Easy Go", which topped the charts back in the early 70s.
And you might remember Bobby playing the part of a logger on the popular TV show "Here Come The Brides" that was set in Seattle in the late 1800s.

Anyhow, concerning where Bobby Sherman is now.....
He's alive and well and living in Southern California where he volunteers as an Emergency Medical Technician.
He's also is a sworn volunteer law enforcement officer in both Los Angeles and San Bernardino County.
But he carries a medical kit instead of a weapon.

Over the years he has established various charities and organizations to help EMTs in California and other places.
Bobby's interest in being an EMT blossomed when he was guest starring on the show "Emergency".
It's a real example of life imitating art.

Bobby is a two time grandfather and -- from everything I can tell -- a good and generous man.

I met him in 1989 when we sat on the couch next to each other for about 45 minutes during a taping of the Pat Sajak Show on CBS.
During a commercial break, I mentioned to him that I had taken my son to see him in concert 17 or so years earlier.

He sheepishly smiled and said, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"No" I assured him.... "I enjoyed the show and your music."

"You're kind to say that, whether it's true or not." he said.

It was true.

_______________________________________

DOWN BY THE RIVERSIDE

By Dan Miller
July 12, 2007

I'd sure like to see Nashville's downtown riverfront become a magical wonderland.

There's been considerable discussion lately about doing just that, with various plans being shopped around.
It's an exciting idea.

Imagine the Cumberland shoreline transformed into a sprawling pedestrian park, with beautiful and interesting things for everyone, young and old, to enjoy.
And I'm not talking about just the old thermal plant site.... that's just a speck on the riverbank map.

I'm talking about long stretches of potentially useful riverfront that are, right now, thick with wild foliage, and inaccessible -- a wasted diamond in the rough.

For inspiration on what a community can accomplish with its river frontage, you need look no further than my old hometown of Augusta, Georgia.

What they've done there on the banks of the Savannah River has to be seen to be believed.
And remember, Augusta is a city that's only about one-third the size of Nashville.

A few lines down, I'll link you to a couple of the many websites that showcase the spectacular Augusta Riverwalk.

In just a little over 20 years, Augusta has taken its previously undeveloped riverbank and levy, which run parallel to the main downtown streets, and created a world class pedestrian river park.

With the exception of the Masters Tournament, it is now the biggest attraction there for visitors and home folks.

The Augusta Riverwalk spans the distance of at least seven city blocks, with plans in the works to make it even longer.
It features two main walking paths.... a perfectly straight brick walk along the top of the levy.... and a winding, paved path -- lined with trees and gardens -- just feet from the water's edge.

On the upper level there's access to a terrific science museum for young people.... an upscale art museum.... several hotels and restaurants.

Along the lower paths you'll find countless gardens.... fountains.... observation points.... benches.... playgrounds.... and a wonderful amphitheater with a stage at water's edge, and 1,600 seats that are partially protected from the sun or rain.

I could go on singing the praises of the Augusta Riverwalk, and imagining how we could do the same thing here in Nashville, but CLICK RIGHT HERE or perhaps RIGHT HERE and you'll see for yourself.

A little junket to Augusta might be worthwhile for our Nashville city leaders.

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THINKING OF PARIS

By Dan Miller
July 9, 2007

No, not Paris Hilton -- I'm talking about the even better known Paris... the one in France.

Our very first night in The City of Light -- functioning on profound jet lag and an aching need for sleep -- we decided to take a three hour dinner cruise along the Seine River.
It's a delightful way to experience the beauty of the city, but I should've rested first.

Throughout our dinner and cruise, musicians serenaded us with classical selections as the floating restaurant navigated the beautiful Seine.
Following dessert, Karen and McKensie took a brief trip to the ladies room, while I stayed seated at our table, and FELL ASLEEP!
I abruptly awakened.... and for a few panicked seconds, had no idea where I was or what I was doing there!
Once I came to my senses, I tried to be as nonchalant as possible and pretend that I often sit with my head slumped forward.
Maybe those dining around us would just assume I was, perhaps, pondering my belt buckle.
I just hope I didn't snore or drool.
Perhaps you know the feeling!
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The first photo next to this essay was taken from atop the Arc de Triomphe, which -- with all due respect to the Eiffel Tower -- offers the best, most astounding views of Paris.
Part of the reason the view is wonderful is because the Eiffel Tower is INCLUDED in the view.
But, be advised, there are 284 steps up a steep, narrow spiral staircase to get to the top of the Arc.
I still have a little stiffness in my legs!
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As I looked at the beautiful, tree-lined streets of Paris, I couldn't help but ponder, what seems to be, the "search and destroy" mission by NES here in Nashville to cut the tops and sides off so many of our beautiful trees.
Somehow, the Parisians have found a way to get electricity and telephone service to homes and businesses, and still leave the trees intact.
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Of course, Paris lags way behind us when it comes to refilling your drinks.
If you ask for a refill in Paris, you're gonna pay for another beverage!
And there might just be an ice shortage there as well.
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Paris was lovely, the food was delicious, but -- even in that most beautiful of places -- in the back of my mind I was craving barbecue and peach cobbler, and a little Emmylou Harris music on the radio.

The nicest part of any trip is coming home.

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THOSE LYING COWS

By Dan Miller
July 5, 2007

I've seen lots of cows in my life, but somehow these seemed different.
They were all on their stomachs.
Almost every cow, in every pasture, was lying on the ground.

I apologize for the fuzzy photos posted here, but they were snapped from the window of a high speed train.

We were traveling through northern France, headed to Germany.
I was mesmerized by the picturesque and peaceful French countryside.

From what I could see, the farms and villages in France are remarkably uncluttered.
No big, ugly billboards or signs.... no junk piled up outside the barns.
The pasture land appeared almost manicured.

Oh, I'm sorry.... back to the cows.
As we zoomed along the tracks, I began to notice the cows.
Why in the world were they all lying down?

Now don't get me wrong.... I was raised in the south....
I've seen thousands of cows lying in the shade, simply resting or staying cool, but I don't recall ever seeing EVERY COW in EVERY PASTURE for miles on end, lying down.

And it wasn't hot.... the temperature was quite mild.
It all seemed a bit "Twilight Zone-ish" to me.

I pointed out the cows to my wife.
She responded with something like, "Hmmmm."

I began snapping photos of the cows, keeping my face glued to the train window.
(My wife and daughter are still chuckling over that)

Remember, we were on a high speed train -- so the cows would disappear from sight almost as quickly as they appeared.
It was reminiscent of trying to photograph Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster!

Why was this happening?
Maybe, I figured, French cows are just lazy.
Maybe they were on strike.

I asked my wife a simple, rhetorical question.... "How do these cows manage to spread the word among themselves, from pasture to pasture, that everybody should be lying down?"
My wife smiled, trying -- I'm sure -- to avoid feeding my odd preoccupation.

For the remainder of our vacation, whenever I'd mention the cows, everybody suddenly seemed to have something else to do in another room.

But alas, I now know the rest of the story.... my questions (I think) have been answered.
When I got home to Nashville, I read an article about how cows are apt to lie down when it's about to rain.
And, sure enough, I do recall our train eventually passing through a moderate rainfall.

So, it turns out, cows are apparently pretty good weather forecasters.

Now I'm thinking of suggesting to the TV station bosses that we take down some of those neighborhood cameras we've mounted on buildings around town, and relocate them to cow pastures and farms around the mid-state.

Then our meteorologists could say things like, "Taking a look now at our Cow Cams.... 90% of the cows are lying down, so you'd better keep an umbrella handy!"

Who wouldn't watch that!

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TO PARIS, THE LONG WAY

By Dan Miller
June 29, 2007

It was my first time ever in France.
I traveled there with my wife and daughter, and it was delightful.
But we didn't exactly arrive on the day we had hoped.

So I'll begin, emphatically, with this advice if you're planning to travel abroad:
MAKE SURE ALL PASSPORTS ARE CURRENT!!

We'd already checked our luggage at the Nashville airport, ready to embark on the vacation of a lifetime.
As we walked away from the airline counter, the ticket agent beckoned us back.... a warning light of some sort had popped up concerning one of our passports.

The news was not good..... my daughter's passport had expired!
My wife and I knew our passports were valid.... but we had simply failed to notice that a child's passport is issued for a shorter period of time.
The airline ticket agent.... a kind and sympathetic person....
contacted every source at her disposal to see if there was any way we could travel to Europe, with an 8-year old holding an expired passport.

There wasn't.

In these days of tight security, few countries allow anyone, child or adult, to enter without a valid, up-to-date passport.
So, we unchecked our luggage and went back to the house.

Once home, we worked on a plan.
A few hours later -- that same night -- we bought airline tickets to Washington, DC and headed out.

Beginning early the next morning, we spent many hours in long lines at the U.S. Department of State.
(see accompanying photo of Karen and McKensie on the sidewalk outside the State Department)

We quickly discovered that standing in line for so long -- in the sun -- can cause the brain to start toying with your imagination.
My wife became convinced that a road crew -- repairing the sidewalk nearby -- was actually a group of special agents keeping an eye on someone in the line.
I even started to believe it.

Could they be observing a suspicious 8-year old with an expired passport?
We may never know, but -- even if they were special government agents -- I must say they did a splendid job repairing the broken sidewalk.

Eventually -- mere minutes before I was set to abandon the Paris vacation plans and maybe head up to Buffalo for a few days -- everything worked out.
OK, so we missed a chunk of our scheduled time in Paris, but it's a city worth the wait.

More on Paris in the days ahead.

A quick footnote:
I asked my wife if she'd like to read this essay before I posted it.
She did, and expressed fear that I was going to "blow the cover" of those special sidewalk repair agents.

Quick footnote #2:
I just noticed something.
Does there appear to be a UFO of some sort in that picture I snapped of the Eiffel Tower?

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THE COLLECTION

By Dan Miller
June 24, 2007

I'm just back from vacation, and boy do I need a rest!

In the days ahead, I'll write a bit about my time away.... but today, I want to mention something that you'll have to hurry to see this week only.

The little collection of colorful balls pictured here is on display for 5 days at the Green Hills branch of the Nashville Public Library.
That's my 8-year old, McKensie, setting them up.

Inside the children's section of the Green Hills library there's a permanent display case in which, every week, one child (who holds a library card) is allowed to show -- sealed under glass -- "something" they collect.
McKensie put her name on the list month's ago, and -- finally -- her time came.

She chose to show part of her astounding collection of colorful bouncy balls.
There are about 50 or 60 of the balls displayed.
She has dozens more at home.

Other kids have displayed such things as marbles, shells, books, rocks, model cars, postcards, shark's teeth, etc.

McKensie's interest in collecting bouncy balls started, of all places, at her dentist's office.
Every time she went for a check up, the dentist would give her a bouncy ball.... and, sparked by that, she started her collection.
And here's the really amazing part -- she actually looks forward to visiting the dentist.
In fact, if you look closely at this collection, you'll see one of the balls has a sparkly tooth on it.

Now, I have no recollection of ever enjoying a trip to the dentist when I was a kid....
There were never any bouncy balls or prizes for us.....
I'd gladly have settled for a little shot of novocaine!
Until I was a grown man I'd never even had my mouth numbed for drilling a tooth!
So you can imagine how I admire these strange, lively little balls, and the impact they've had on my daughter.

Stop by the Green Hills library and behold the wonder.

(Sorry, after being "held over" for a full week, McKensie's display is gone -- you missed it!)

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THE HAMMER (REPRISE)

By Dan Miller
(originally posted February 4, 2005)

With Barry Bonds closing in on Hank Aaron's home run mark, it seemed right to rerun this essay.
I've updated and corrected some of the facts and figures from when it was first posted in early 2005.
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It happens a lot these days.
I'll see a birthday, or someone's age mentioned, and it ignites a memory from further back than seems possible.

For example, major league home run king Hank Aaron turned 73 years old back in February.
Now, I was one of the untold thousands who occasionally saw Hank play at the old Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium.
In fact, I was there to witness 3 or 4 of his record 755 home runs.

But today I was thinking about another home run that I saw Hank Aaron hit -- not counted in the record book.
It was in 1953 and, though I was quite young, I still remember going with my Dad and some friends to Jennings Stadium in Augusta on a warm, humid Georgia night.
The Jacksonville Tars were in town to take on our Augusta Rams.

It was a big game, with a packed stadium, because the hot topic in the South Atlantic League that season was a 19-year old rookie from Mobile, Alabama, recently signed by the Braves, the parent organization of the Tars.

His name was Henry Aaron, and he was burning up the Sally League's pitchers.
He was one of the very first black players in the league.
It was a time when a young person like Aaron endured a lot for his love of the game.
He couldn't stay at the same hotels as the other players.
He had to eat on the team bus, since restaurants in the deep south were strictly segregated back then.
I've heard he even had to put up with racial slurs from some of his teammates.

But on the field, he took a back seat to no one.
He was named the league's MVP that year, leading Jacksonville to the pennant.... and setting the stage for his move up to Milwaukee for the next season.... and the beginning of his journey to the Hall of Fame.

But that season, it was the Sally League where he made his mark.
He batted .362, with 208 hits, 125 RBI's, and 22 home runs.

And that night.... in good ole Jennings Stadium.... packed to the rafters with 5,000 people.... I witnessed one of those home runs, which landed somewhere over the left field wall.

When the game was over, I was disappointed that Augusta lost.

I had no idea what a remarkable athlete I had just seen.... or that I'd still be thinking about that home run a half century later.

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STARS FELL ON ATLANTA THAT NIGHT (REPRISE)

By Dan Miller
(originally posted December 15, 2004)

Since I'm on vacation this week, I've mined deep into my archives and come up with a "summer rerun" for you.

The reason I'm rerunning this particular essay is that actress Olivia de Havilland -- the only surviving primary actor or actress from the movie Gone With The Wind -- will be celebrating her 91st birthday on July 1st, and the timing seemed right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you enjoy today's little essay about Gone With The Wind.
If you don't, frankly my dear..... I'll be disappointed. But that's OK.

68 years ago, Atlanta, Georgia was the show business Capital of the World, at least for one night.
And no, I wasn't around yet.... I've just heard the stories.

When I was a kid, whenever my family would drive from Augusta to Atlanta (usually on our way to Rome to visit relatives), my parents would always point out two world famous theaters, the Fox and the Loew's Grand.

Loew's Grand is gone now, it burned in 1978.... but on December 15, 1939, it was the site of the world premiere of Gone With The Wind.
The excitement in Atlanta, I'm told, was beyond belief.
Not so much for the movie premiere, but for the movie stars who spent 2 or 3 days wandering around the city.

Most of the cast members were there.... Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh, Leslie Howard, Olivia de Havilland and all the rest. Author Margaret Mitchell was there as well.

In the days preceding the premiere, Clark Gable and Olivia de Havilland visited around town, forever winning the hearts of Atlantans.
They attended the Junior League Ball.
Gable supposedly ate turnip greens and cornbread at local restaurants.
Together, they visited the Atlanta Cyclorama, a giant painting commissioned in the 1800s, depicting the battle of Atlanta.
Gable was impressed, but joked to Mayor William Hartsfield that "the only thing missing is a likeness of Rhett Butler."

Well, that was all they needed to hear. If you visit the Cyclorama in Atlanta today, the guides will proudly point out a plaster-of-paris mannequin that bears an eerie resemblance to Clark Gable. That star-power is strong stuff.

The only surviving member of the main cast is Olivia de Havilland.
She's 90 years old now.... living in Paris.... and said to be healthy and sharp-witted.
Oddly, hers was the only principal character to die in the movie, but -- in real life -- she's the only one still alive.

On the night of the premiere, some 300,000 folks lined Peachtree Street to watch the motorcade of stars heading to, and arriving at, Loew's Grand.
Another 2,000 paid $10 each to attend the premiere screening.

Noticeably absent from the parade of stars was Hattie McDaniel, the black actress who played Mammy.
This was Georgia in the 1930s, and things were different.
When the Academy Award nominations were announced the next year, both Olivia de Havilland and Hattie McDaniel were up for Best Supporting Actress for their roles in Gone With The Wind.

And the night of the Awards, the surprise winner was Hattie McDaniel, beating out Olivia de Havilland, and becoming the first black performer to claim an Oscar.

In an interview in 2004, de Havilland was asked about her feelings, losing to Hattie McDaniel.
She said, "Hattie deserved it and she got it. I thought I'd much rather live in a world where a black actress who gave a marvelous performance got the award instead of me. I'd rather live in that kind of world."

Me too.

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PERHAPS I NEED NEW GLASSES

By Dan Miller
June 8, 2007

I scrounged around my office, looking for my glasses.
Not my prescription glasses.... they were right there on my desk where I keep them....
But I couldn't locate my favorite $1 drug store reading glasses.

In addition to my regular prescription glasses, I have several different strengths of reading glasses.... simple magnifiers.
Some I use for reading really small print....
Some for normal print....
And others for the computer screen.
(Sometimes I even combine two pairs of glasses at the same time for a "special" focal range)

But these particular glasses were my current favorites for looking at the computer screen, and I really didn't want to lose them.

I retraced where I had walked through the newsroom....

I went downstairs to the studio, figuring maybe I left them on the news desk.

About the time I got in the studio, I realized....
I had them on!!

I quietly walked back upstairs.

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MEN AND GROCERY SHOPPING

By Dan Miller
June 4, 2007

I'm afraid grocery stores might be missing the boat when it comes to men shoppers.

Hey, we're in there a lot!

In fact 71% of men say they've been to a grocery store during the last three months or so. That's according to a survey in 2006 from a consulting firm known as TNS Retail Forwarding.

When I was growing up, I don't ever recall my father doing the grocery shopping. I suppose he went inside a grocery store from time to time, but I wasn't aware of it.
I do recall my mother coming home -- at least once a week -- with 12 or 15 huge grocery bags packed to capacity, which I'd have to carry in from the car.

These days, with so many single men around, guys are shopping for groceries out of simple necessity.

Now, personally, I love going to the grocery store.
I always have.
I especially like the 24 hour grocery stores, because I enjoy shopping late at night.

But here are some truths (as pointed out in that survey)....
Men will not purchase a substitute item. If they can't find the specific item they need, they simply won't purchase anything. (Women are more likely to take a chance on another brand or alternative).

Men are more likely than women to pay full price for an item.
Even so, I believe stores would much rather see a woman shopping, since the women are more likely to graze and browse the aisles looking for something tempting or interesting.

Men, on the other hand, will zero in on a particular product, and are often overwhelmed by the vast array of stuff available.

And, of course, that most obvious of truths....
Men are much less likely to ask for help. If we can't find the item we need, we'll just leave, figuring they don't have it.
On more occasions than I care to admit, I've informed my wife that the store doesn't carry a particular item.
At that point, she will -- without hesitation -- ask someone for help.
Within minutes they'll "go in the back" and emerge with the item she needs.

Which begs the question..... what's the deal with all the vital food apparently stashed "in the back"?

The one exception to men refusing to ask for help is with the butcher.
Men will, according to that survey, ask the butcher for advice.
Why not.... hey, he's THE BUTCHER!
The name says it all.
He's a man's man!
He's good with a knife.... probably knows how to catch and clean fish.... probably good with a bow and arrow.... and a rifle....
He could keep us alive if we were stranded in a jungle, and had to eat whatever prey we could catch!
He'd know the best cuts!

(OK, relax, I know there are women butchers too, but this way was easier to write).

In conclusion, one bit of advice for grocery stores. If you really want men to be better shoppers in your stores, do things to keep our attention.
In the middle of the cereal aisle, put some half-priced motor oil....
Stash some special low priced golf balls in the produce section....
And how about a few bargain priced electronic gadgets mixed in with the canned goods....
Maybe some free bait right there with the milk and cheese....

Since the dawn of time, we've been the hunters..... take advantage of that!

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GOOBER'S LAB ANONYMOUS

By Dan Miller
May 30, 2007

My name is Dan.... and I am a Goober's Lab-oholic.

Sometimes, in the wee small hours of the morning, my wife will glance over at me in bed, as I cradle the laptop computer, and she can only shake her head as she realizes I'm at it again.... on the internet visiting Goober's Lab.

And here's what makes it even worse.
My wife is struggling with an addition to Tile Towers.
Many times, morning and night, I've quietly walked into our computer room at home, and there sits my wife, sheepishly confessing that, yes, she's -- needlessly -- spending her time playing Tile Towers.
It's tough, but we're doing the best we can.

For those of you "not in the know" (in other words, those who don't have young daughters) Goober's Lab and Tile Towers are part of the arcade of games on the Webkinz World website.

Perhaps the quickest way to educate yourself about Webkinz is to ask any young girl (and I suppose some young boys as well).
When our 8-year old was given a Webkinz stuffed animal, she used a special code provided on the label to access the Webkinz World website.
There she was able to adopt a "virtual version" of her own stuffed animal, which she can interact with online.

I'm told more than a million kids are now members.
It's a truly magical place for youngsters and their stuffed "virtual" pets.
Each pet has various degrees of health, hunger and happiness that the adoptive kids have to take care of.

They can purchase new rooms, furniture, food, clothes, recreation equipment and many other things using "virtual currency" known as Kinzcash.
The Kinzcash is earned through the various games and activities offered on the website.

And that's where Goober's Lab, Tile Towers, my wife and I come in.
Being caring and helpful parents, we assisted McKensie in choosing her website "user name" and password.
Then we figured -- what a nice gift it would be for us to help her earn Kinzcash by occasionally playing the games.

So we've done that..... occasionally..... alright, every day!

I worry that maybe we're helping too much.

But my greater worry is that McKensie will change her password without telling us.

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