Tent city

It's ironic that the Fayetteville police tear down "campers" tents indiscrimately in the woods.
They literally rip them to shreds with their knives.
Those gnarly beasts!
But this week during "Bikes, Booze and BBQ" Dickson Street resembles "Tent City."
You bet your bottom dollar if you participate you'll be down to your bottom dollar!
The price of everything on Dickson skyrockets as the permanent merchants inflate their prices to attract huge profits from the bikers and their babes.
And an influx of entrepeneurly merchants from all over the United States of greed swoop into Fayetteville and erect tents and start cachinging their merchandise.
Is this good?
It all started when some bikers decided to have a poker run to benefit a cancer victim 11 years ago.
Year by year the event has grown by leaps and varooms.
No one really knows how many bikers blast into Fayetteville because there's no official registration. The only guesstimate is made by helicopters taking photos from above.
A good time is had by all, except for a few rowdies who get plastered and end up in Jailbird magazine.
But by and large it's a splendiferous event.
Who profits?
The "Tent City" immigrants and the Dickson Street moguls.
Everyone needs a "Bikes, Blues and BBQ" T-shirt.
Or at least that's what they would have you believe as you stroll up and down Dickson.
Ironically while I was homeless in Rogers and Bentonville a few years ago I dreamed the great American Dream and wanted so badly to come to Fayettenam for the pilgrimage.
Alas, I had no money and no ride.
Now, this week I've been enriched by a Triple Crown.
I labored 10 hours on Saturday helping supervise parking before the Razorback football debacle against Rutgers.
On Sunday I vacuumed for 11 hours cleaning up the remnants of peanuts, popcorn and other festive trash at Razorback Stadium. That job really sucked! (Pun intended.)
And, lastly but greatly I was informed our film "Why I Went to the Woods" won $400 for Sarah Moore and me.
I now have enough money to go down to "Tent City" and enjoy the festivities.
But, my heart and soul just don't feel up to the occasion.
I'd rather ruminate about how some of my brethren are just trying to survive in their own versions of tent city.
For them it's a 24-365 routine.
Just another day in paradise!

Serendipity

Serendipity: The faculty of making fortunate and unexpected discoveries by accident.
Whenever good fortune smiles on us, how do we act and react?
Last Friday exemplified a serendipitous weekend for yours truly.
Much to my chagrin a few weeks ago Mother Nature played a cruel trick on me as I was racing with the wind and trying to escape a torrential downpour.
Alas, when I ventured into the covered shelter at Walker Park, a library book and a DVD suffered the consequences of my misfortune and were dampened despite being sequestered in my backpack.
I meekly waited a week hoping Dame Fortune would smile on me when I submitted them back to the Fayetteville Public Library.
Whoosh! Gadzooks! Shucky darn!
I received letters from the library proclaiming I owed $5 for the DVD and $32.99 for the book.
So, I suffered the consequences and had to forgo using the computer and checking out books and DVDs.
Finally, my wheel of fortune spun in a positive manner.
A very nice lady saw me walking down Dickson Street two weeks ago and buoyantly asked me where I was headed. To the library to read she noted optimistically.
I then related my travails and revealed my library privileges had been suspended due to rain drain.
She pleasantly proclaimed she'd pay my fine. So, meekly and humbly I gave her my card.
When I next checked my library status, much to my manner of well-being I discovered she'd paid $20.
So, last Friday I summoned the courage and pled my case to Second Mile Ministries to see if maybe, just maybe, they could help me out with the remaining balance of $17.99.
The very cherubic lady from College Baptist Church in Fayetteville informed me that was the initial time anyone had made that kind of request.
After some soul-searching, she graciously requested from the treasurer that I be granted a reprieve and a check.
Miraculously, or maybe just a kind gesture of Christian benevolence prompted them to cut me a check for $17.99.
So, my sadness evolved into gladness.
Then, while still floating on Cloud Nine, I went to eat at Seven Hills.
My good fortunes multiplied when I was asked if I wanted to work Sunday helping clean up the upper echelons of Razorback Stadium.
Glory Be and praise the God above!
Saturday I worked seven and a half hours aiding Razorback fanatics park their vehicles.
And, seredipitously one of the parking attendants gave me a ticket to the game.
My euphoria lasted until the Razorbacks committed sooie-cide vis a vis, five turnovers.
Oh, well, I picked up the pieces of my disconsolated spirit after the 52-0 debacle and surged into Sunday to overcome the blow with some furtherance of my monetary gains.
For 12 hours we cleaned Razorback Stadium's plush theater seating area, sweeping up all the popcorn, peanuts and other remnants from the upper decks.
My back still aches from hauling the vac-pack vacuum cleaner, but I garnered approximately $88 which is payable via cash this Friday.
All in all, I earned $165, before taxes, to assuage my depressed feeling from the Razorbacks demise the past two Saturdays.
Originally, before looking up the definition of serendipity, I felt very blessed.
Now in retrospect and with the knowledge of the meaning of serendipity, I realize the serendipity might have been good fortune but maybe not by accident.
So, here's to you Chloe Seal, my good friend from Three Bags in Two Days!
And here's to you my providential benevolent spirit who used to work for Proctor and Gamble (who prefers anonymity)!
And here's to you Bob Wright for recommending me for the clean up job Sunday!
As we took a lunch break I told my co-workers: Once upon a time I covered the Razorbacks from the press box.
Never in my wildest dreams did I envision I would someday be on the cleanup crew!
Now I've penned the exploits of the Razorbacks as a sports writer. Ushered three years ago. Assisted in parking cars. And swept up the trash left behind in the luxurious penthouse suites.
What a roller coaster of emotions I've endured throughout all of this.
But it sure feels redemptive to be making money again.
I feel like I was in the right place at the right time.
Just another day in Hog Heaven!

And here's to you

Of mice and men

I can identify with John Steinbeck's book entitled "Of mice and men"
That sums up my worldly experiences heretofore today.
Last night when I arrived back at my humble abode the power was off.
At first I thought there must be a power outage but the other folks at their respective residences didn't seem to be experiencing a lack of power.
So I checked the power cord connecting my trailer and the adjoining linkage.
Alas, it wasn't unplugged.
So I slumbered restlessly amidst the heat without a fan to cool me off.
I even dreamed I awoke and figured out my dilemma and power was restored. Only in my dreams!
Alas, I awoke and didn't have a clue why I was powerless.
So in the doom and gloom of a pitch-black environment I trod for Fayetteville.
Much to my chagrin it was only 3:10 a.m.
Nevertheless, I boldly traipsed to the University of Arkansas and recharged my phone.
So, I theorize a mouse chewed on the power cord ensconced in my trailer and cut off the power.
I purposely didn't eradicated the little creature because of one of the 10 commandments: Thou shalt not kill.
Now I wish I'd offed the little varmint.
Maybe he was getting revenge on me for playing my television too loud!
Maybe he was reeking revenge on me for not leaving the fan on all day!
Who knows what lurks in the mind of a measly mouse?
So I daydreamed nightmares of my future plight.
There's nothing to look forward to anymore when I get home.
No fan.
No DVD player to entertain me.
No more coffee in the mornings.
No more nuking food with my microwave.
No more reading without a light.
Why me!
Then, some friendly folks intervened and offered me some Good Samaritan deeds.
I got a ride from Community meals to the library.
Another kindly soul is going to give me a ride home later.
I even won "fictitious" money on Zynga poker.
So now I just gotta figure out how to find another power cord to restore my creature comfort of electricity.
And I've got to figure out whether it's nobler to slay the mouse or just forgive and forget!

Be an Andrew

In Central United Methodist Church today Senior Pastor Tony Hollifield challenged his parishioners to be an Andrew this summer.
He was referring to Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, who approached Jesus and Jesus saith unto them, What seek ye? They said unto him, Rabbi (which is to say, being interpreted, Master,) where dwellest thou?
He saith unto them, Come and see. They came and saw where he dwelt, and abode with him that day: for it was about the 10th hour.
One of the two which heard John the Baptist speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother.
He first findeth his own brother Simon and saith unto him, We have found the Messiah, which is , being interpreted the Christ.
And he brought him to Jesus and when Jesus beheld him, he said, Thou art Simon the son of Jonah: thou shalt be called Cephas, (Peter) which is by interpretation, A stone.
So, Rev. Hollifield challenged us to make a list of seven people who need Jesus.
He implored us to Look Around and make that list.
II. Look Up! Pray for the welfare and the natural opportunities to approach these seven welfare cases.
III. Look Out! Invest time in these people and help them.
IV. Look Forward! Build bridges and go the extra mile for these wannabe Christians.
V. Look After! Stay close to them and encourage them. People don't care what you know until they know you care.
Be an Andrew!
Build a relationship and bring these people into the fellowship of your church.
Indeed.
I have a friend named Andrew who bestows his love on me by offering me a ride home during this long, hot summer.
Now it's my turn to pass it on to some of my fellow men who desire a better life.
That's my challenge this  summer.
I want to be an Andrew!

Try to remember

When was the last time you forgot something?
I don't remember.
Is that an oxymoron?
You can't remember when you forgot something.
To commemorate an iconic essayist Nora Ephron who passed yesterday, I'm reprinting one of her essays entitled "I Remember Nothing" with some of my jestful critiques, asides, besides and otherwise humorous aphorisms.
"Why do people write books that say it's better to be older than to be younger? she wrote in "I Feel Bad About My Neck"
"It's not better. Even if you have all your marbles, you're constantly reaching for the name of the person you met the day before yesterday."

"A couple of years ago, the actor Ryan O'Neal confessed that he'd recently failed to recognize his own daughter, Tatum, at a funeral and had accidentally made a pass at her.
"Everyone was judgmental about this, but not me. A month earlier, I'd found myself in a mall in Las Vegas when I saw a very pleasant-looking woman coming toward me, smiling, her arms outstretched, and I thought, Who is this woman? Where do I know her from? Then she spoke and I realized it was my sister Amy.
"You might think, Well, how was she to know her sister would be in Las Vegas? I'm sorry to report that not only did I know, but she was the person I was meeting in the mall.
"In 1964 the Beatles came to New York for the first time. I was a newspaper reporter and I was sent to the airport to cover their arrival. It was a Friday. I spent the weekend following them around. Sunday night they appeared on "The Ed Sullivan Show." You could make an argument that the '60s began that night, on The Ed Sullivan Show. It was a historic night. I was there. I stood in the back of the Ed Sullivan Theater and watched. I remember how amazingly obnoxious the fans were -- the teenage girls who screamed and yelled and behaved like idiots. But how were the Beatles, you may ask. Well, you are asking the wrong person. I could barely hear them."

I digress.
I remember watching that show on television and likewise I could hardly hear the singing from all the gaga girls screaming.
I also remember the movie "It's Been A Hard Days Night."
George Harrison became enamored with one of the cheerleaders in the movie. He approached her. And he boldly asked her, even without an introduction, "Will you marry me?"
Brusquely she retorted, "No!"
He responded, "Well, will you go out with me?"
She remarked, "No, I've got a boy friend."
When she related this to her friends, they rebuked her by saying, "George Harrison asked you out and you told him you had a boy friend! You fool!"
Ironically she later married Harrison.
Then, Eric Clapton, one of Harrison's best friends fell in love with her.
Clapton once asked her to elope with him.
In the same vein as her first encounter with Harrison, she told Clapton she couldn't because she was married to Harrison.
Discontantly Clapton told her if she didn't he would go off and do heroin for three years.
He penned "Layla" in memory of her and went off on a drug-binge.
Eventually Patty, aka Mrs. Harrison, found Harrison cuckolding Ringo Starr's wife and she divorced him and married Clapton.
Why is it I can remember stories like this, but I have a senior moment remembering what I had for lunch yesterday?

Back to Ephron:
"I went to stand in front of the White House the night Nixon resigned and here's what I have to tell you about it: my wallet was stolen.
"I went to many legendary rock concerts and spent them wondering when they would end and where we would eat afterward and whether the restaurant would still be open and what I would order.
"I went to cover the war in Israel in 1973 but my therapist absolutely forbid me to go to the front.
"I was not at Woodstock, but I might as well have been because I wouldn't remember it anyway."

I digress.
My 18th birthday coincided with the first day of Woodstock: Aug. 15, 1969.
In 2009 approaching my 58th birthday, I told interested friends it was the 40th anniversary of Woodstock and the 40th anniversary of my 18th birthday.
A man heard me talking about this and he bragged that his birthday was also Aug. 15 and his father took him to Woodstock on his 12th birthday.
I asked him about his recollections.
He said he didn't remember any of it because his father had him stoned out on LSD.
What a bummer!

Back to Ephron:
"I am living in the Google years, no question of that. And there are advantages to it. When you forget something, you can whip out your iPhone and go to Google. The Senior Moment has become the Google moment, and it has a much nicer, hipper, younger, more contemporary sound, doesn't it?
"The true Senior Moment is nightmarish. The long search for the answer, the guessing, the self-recrimination, the head-slapping mystification, the frustrated finger-snapping. You just go to Google and retrieve it.
"You can't retrieve your life (unless you're on Wikipedia, in which case you can retrieve an inaccurate version of it)."

So, if you can't remember something, just Google it.
But then will you remember tomorrow or will you have to regurgitate Googling?
Nevertheless, here's to you Nora Ephron!

Faith, endurance pays off

"Consider it all joy when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance, and let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." -- James 1:2-4.

Oh, ye of little faith!
So many naysayers were ready to proclaim the Razorback baseball team persona non grata after they lost to Baylor last week, 8-1, in the first round of the Super Regionals.
Well, relief pitcher Brandon Moore sported a wristband with that Biblical passage on it.
And the Razorbacks rallied to bop Baylor twice and burst into the College World Series with mounds of faith and their endurance paid off.
Sometimes a simple little passage can rally a team or an individual through trials and tribulations and that faith produces endurance and the endurance has its perfect result.
After the Hogs bested Baylor, 1-0, in the finals, Moore knelt and prayed before hopping on the Hogs' celebration.
Moore provided more inspiration for the Razorbacks and that bonding process produced the winning chemistry.
Now as the Razorbacks venture into the College World Series they face further enduring encounters.
Lets hope they persevere again.
But we don't need to pray, just root!
In another inspirational testimonial, a friend suffered a very painful motorcycle accident a few weeks ago.
One of his visitors related to me that he couldn't use his right arm.
Well, this man of faith called an inspirational friend and asked him to pray for him.
Lo and behold, following that prayer, he could move his arm again!
Hallelujah!!

Justice

"If you're poor and you commit a crime, the legal system works quickly and leaves you in pieces all over the highway. If you're educated and have money, the process becomes a drawn-out affair, like a terminal cancer patient who can afford various kinds of treatment all over the world. But eventually he ends up at Lourdes." -- James Lee Burke, "Heartwood"

For the uneducated, Lourdes is a Roman Catholic miracle-healing center in southern France, where thousands of wealthy Catholics sojourn.
The poor who get in trouble with the law can't afford an attorney and end up with a public pretender, er public defender, and they make a deal with the prosecution. They both work for the state of Arkansas.
Unfortunately, those with wealth can afford to hire an attorney who will do anything and everything to help them seek another form of justice.
They have a much better window of opportunity to make a deal which precludes the kind of "justice" the more unfortunate receive.
In other words, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, or are incarcerated because they couldn't afford that high, falutin' attorney.