Honk and Wave

Thursday, November 08, 2007


I am not ready for any burnt down bridges just yet.

I don't want anything except that if we drove side by side going down the highway that we could honk and wave.

My grandparents live in a small town where everyone waves when they drive their vehicle past another and it doesn't matter if they know each other or not.

I try this from time to time and compare with it with statistical data recorded from a previous trip to their small town.

DW thinks its funny. I give a honk and wave. Most of the time I simply throw up the pointer finger while still gripping the steering wheel. I always try to do this in such a timely fashion that the other driver, be it a stranger or friend has time to acknowledge said friendly gesture.

If I get a wave or a finger lift of sorts then I count it. I also count head nods and hat tipping. You don't see as much hat tipping these days. I have been trying to no avail to bring it back, you know, kind of what Timberlake did with sexy, only more successful.

When I travel up north of the Mason Dixon line, which is quite often, I do this routine as well. Or at least I did for a while. From Rhode Island to Pennsylvania with New York in between, I get zero responses other than the occassional serial killer type who is looking for prey and quickly turns their car around to follow while I have to dodge and weave to lose them.

I don't count so much up there anymore. It also doesn't pay to say sir or ma'am or hold the door for the next person through or even smile for what its worth.

If you say sir, then someone expects you to carry their bags. If you say ma'am then you must be implying the lady is old and that is particularly frowned upon these days in those neck of the woods. If you hold the door open you need not expect the same in return.

You will however find that people are allowed to wedge their cars in traffic by nosing the front end past your vehicle changing lanes. Down South, we have a more fighting attitude about the car etiquette than they do up North. They can even honk and no one cares. If you honk at someone in Alabama you might need to be ready for an altercation of sorts. Up there, a honk is way of saying "hey buddy, you can go or wake up" but its not usually very mean spirited.

But as for me? I want to be able to honk and wave. I don't want to burn down bridges with anyone. Do I agree with everyone I meet and know or every place I go? No, but I am still going to tip my hat in your general direction.

Life is too short to carry any anger, besides the only person pent up anger hurts, is the the person carrying it around.

Be of good cheer and listen to the song on my profile by Limbeck, its called "Honk and Wave".

RW

RESPECT

I want this to come off in the right light. I have questioned writing this blog and may add another as it comes to me. I dont want to this to seem distasteful whatesoever, but I keep thinking about my friend. I can only see the good memories.

My dear friend has passed away. I hadn't been as close to my friend in the last few years. You know how life gets in the way. People have things going on and my friend had been battling with leukemia.

I talked with him a couple of months ago. Things had since turned tougher for him.

He is the first person from my what used to be close knit friend group to pass away. He was only thirty one years young. As a matter of a fact he had only just recently had a birthday. It is very hard to think about, but I keep making myself do it. Life is so short. It is so precious. Chris was a precious person.

I remember meeting Chris in the ninth grade in Mrs Bain's science class. We had met in middle school but didnt really know each other.

I wasn't doing good in the class. I didnt care about it at all. We both joined the science club to earn some extra points. The group was about to take a trip to the space and rocket center in Huntsville and we had a blast.

I can specifically remember us talking about the particular jeans we were both wearing. No one else had a pair. Its funny the things you remember.

Chris picked me and a few friends up that weekend to go out and find a party or at least time to kill. Tyrone and Dwayne were there. A more senior classmate bought us some cheap wine. Chris didnt drink any at all. Tyrone threw up later that evening from too much to drink.

I remember that we drank too much as young people, but Chris never drank. He was always the funniest guy around though.

One summer while still in high school Matt, Ian, Chris and I spent a week in Gulf Shores. I remember that as the best summer of my young life.

Someone always lost something at the beach. The something was usually keys. Chris and I had a knack for finding things like this, even at night. We went to the beach several times through the years and we always found ourselves finding someone's keys.

That first summer in Gulf Shores Chris met a girl from Kentucky who he became enraptured with. I can remember him talking about flying a helicopter to see her like it was yesterday.

Chris and a few of us panned for gold another summer. We didnt find anything with any value, but I will always have the memories of driving around the area between Hollis Cross Roads, Heflin and Randolph County looking for gold. We drove up every dirt road we saw looking for a stream to pan. We just knew there was gold in them there hills.

We always had parties at Chris' house. Dwayne fell through the ceiling one night. We had been in Chris' attic. I dont remember why but Chris led a bunch of us into the attic. We were in exploration mode I guess.

We were always in exploration mode with Chris. I recall him leading us through the Weaver Caves. We went as deep into those caves as anyone had gone. We found a room in those caves with clay and a little water to mix with clay. We rolled the clay and formed out our names and stuck them to the walls. I wonder if those names are still there. I am betting that they are and it makes me want to crawl back through those narrow spaces to trace my steps and see them one last time.

Forgive me, I can't help but tear up a bit.

Once while still in high school we thought there was some kind of conspiracy going on with the administration. Chris told us of rumors of an underground at the annex building. The army had set up camp in the in campus parking lot one night and we set out to scope out what was going on. We eventually persuaded the teachers to take us to this supposed underground area. Nothing really turned up.

Nothing ever really turned up, but it was always an adventure.

I worked at a book store with Chris for a couple of years. We moved to Auburn at the same time. Chris was always around and he was good for a belly ache of laughter. He had such a gift of mischievious, sarcastic, good natured humor.

Oddly enough, Chris and I moved back from Auburn about the same time. His heart had been broken and at one of his parties I remember finding him hiding in an old freezer. I thought he was just trying to be funny. He didnt have to try to hard.

Later on, he lived on one side of the old apartment at Christine Avenue in Anniston. We all lived in one side of that duplex at one time or another.

The last time I really remember seeing Chris was at Ian's bachelor party. Tyrone and I showed up and Chris was the only one there already waiting. He had a box of a dozen glazed Krispy Kreme donuts and told us nonchalently that he had leukemia but that he was better now.

He was his old funny self. He said some things to me that night that were as funny as anything I remember anyone ever saying to me. He didnt try to be funny, he just was. There was no effort whatsoever.

Chris always laughed uncontrollably at my Jerry the Llama stories and ee cumming's goat footed ballon man. I WILL always remember him. He will forever hold a special place in my heart and I think of him constantly right now.

Forgive me as I tear up right now. I miss my friend.

Chris, I will always love you as a brother.

Robby

Blow Out That Cherry Bomb For Me

I flew up to NYC on tuesday. I have plenty of pictures detailing the trip, but I forgot the cord for the camera to download said pictures.

I really should have waited until I uploaded the pictures to write this blog, but whatever, right?

It is Wednesday night. We drove into Manhattan for dinner at Smith & Wollensky's. Wow, good spot, its on the corner of third avenue and forty ninth street. You need to check it out if you have a chance.

There were about nine of us including the president of my company. We took two vehicles as we had a large group and a fifteen minute drive. I couldn't believe how much traffic there was on 9A tonight. Six of us were Auburn guys. Three were recent grads from Southern Miss. One of the lads has a girlfriend from the Jersey shore, kinda.

They dubbed her "Diablo". This is in part to the wicked tattoo she has on her person. It says diablo which means the devil or so I am told. They painted the picture to represent her as wild and crazy. This lad is a mississippi boy. They are infact not a fit.

The other guys ragged him all night about Diablo. He rambled on about her being from Belize. I kidded him about the mafiso wannabes that she might have had as past boyfriends when he informed us that he asked her if she had dated any mexicans.

I found this to be humorous. How did he come about this inquiry? He simply put it out there, point blank. I found out that he wasnt so much discriminating against the mexican peoples as much as he was concerned about getting cut over some jersey tramp. Forgive me, this was the discussion and I guess you had to be there.

We had an excellent dinner starting off with lobster as an appetizer and a nice steak.

We had another group out on the town. One of the chiefs was a 67 year old guy that works for us. They had a limo and he was standing out of the roof top window and happened to drive past us as we left the restaurant. He was headed to an around the way joint in Soho. He was singing a Limbeck song

Theres really nothing else to do except laugh.

"i am not saying that i am ready for a burned down bridge.

I am not saying that I want anything from you except that if we drove side by side in the beehive state that we could smile and honk and wave."

This man, i shall refer to as Ron had been skydiving earlier in the week. He is also the same gentleman I told you about before that used to be close friends with Burt Reynolds...no kidding.

The limo stopped at the light at the next corner. A couple of us ran over to meet him.

Ron yelled at two passerbys, "hey foxy lady, wanna ride? are there any problems you see? whats that got to do with me? you can do what you wanna do, its nothing to me. Lets cut out the middle man."

He has no fear of the underdog, thats why he will not survive. New York City might be too much for that old man from Alabama.

I told him so much and he responded that "it cant all be wedding cake."

I summized that "Diablo" would have agreed.

It has been without question, an interesting evening.