kammisue
01-29-2012, 12:05 PM
There was a stoical sign that stared at me in one of the classrooms all four years of my high school experience. It stated that you should do the hard job first. It was probably penned by the same killjoy who started this "eat you dessert last" business. Of course this accepted philosophy went counter to my Epicurean interests. I was more inclined to entertain the beliefs that you should never do today what you can put off until tomorrow; 'tis better to have loafed and lost than to never have loafed at all ; and, of course, the ever popular, "they said it couldn't be done, so I didn't even try." The double negative in the last sentence would seem to be most necessary when giving the proper emphasis. I have always liked double negatives, as they seem to give a double reason for my existence.
The preceding commentary sets the introductory table for my story. Poke McHenry, longtime humorist for the Florida Times-Union was oft to say, "If you have to eat a live frog, don't stare at it too long." Poke's real name was Vic Smith and at one time had been the sports editor of the Albany, Georgia Herald. Vic was an older friend of mine who wrote while I was in high school and during my coaching career. He had a way with words. He once described how one of our players in a football game, looked like a runaway mule in a corn patch. You might wish to picture that in your mind. He once wrote an article that the Associated Press quickly grabbed about "putting points on the board" and it thereafter became an essential saying throughout the sports world. He, related later, that he had come to this saying from three previous incidents. He told as to how a farmer had seen his rooster going up and down behind the barn. He quickly ran to see what was going on and saw his young son kicking the rooster repeatedly up into the air. "What are you doing, son?" "Oh, just putting a few punts on the bird." On another occasion, Sir Walter Scott had dozed off in the barber's chair and was astonished as to what he awakened and saw. "What in blazes are you doing?," he queried. "Oh, just putting a few points in the beard." A group of jolly good men brought a stumbling William Shakespeare home in the wee hours of the morning. When Mrs. Shakespeare came to the door and asked what was going on, the men said, " Oh, just putting a few pints in the bard."
Vic had written some very kind remarks about me and my football team in his Sunday morning sports column. I, in turn, facetiously made him an honorary assistant coach which included a pair of rose colored glasses, a list of moving vans companies for less and a number of trite speeches, complete with cliches, that go well at banquets. He, naturally, printed my letter in another sports column. We had some fun during those ante bellum times.
Well, one Saturday evening, I had gone over to his home to share some material with him and while we were chatting in his living room, his rather comely, statuesque daughter, who appeared to be in her mid twenties, entered the room and set up and ironing board. She ignored our presence and there was nothing particularly unusual about her ironing except that she was wearing nothing more than some lacy under garments. My normal glibness became more taciturn and I became totally obsessed at staring at the opposite wall. I was in the home of a responsible member of the press, his daughter was pressing some clothes and I quickly remembered that I had some pressing engagements elsewhere. I quickly dismissed myself without looking back. Who knows? I could have turned to stone!
Have you ever wondered why some women wear provocative clothing, but become incensed when you are caught staring? Me neither.
*********Written by my good friend, Tony Adams
The preceding commentary sets the introductory table for my story. Poke McHenry, longtime humorist for the Florida Times-Union was oft to say, "If you have to eat a live frog, don't stare at it too long." Poke's real name was Vic Smith and at one time had been the sports editor of the Albany, Georgia Herald. Vic was an older friend of mine who wrote while I was in high school and during my coaching career. He had a way with words. He once described how one of our players in a football game, looked like a runaway mule in a corn patch. You might wish to picture that in your mind. He once wrote an article that the Associated Press quickly grabbed about "putting points on the board" and it thereafter became an essential saying throughout the sports world. He, related later, that he had come to this saying from three previous incidents. He told as to how a farmer had seen his rooster going up and down behind the barn. He quickly ran to see what was going on and saw his young son kicking the rooster repeatedly up into the air. "What are you doing, son?" "Oh, just putting a few punts on the bird." On another occasion, Sir Walter Scott had dozed off in the barber's chair and was astonished as to what he awakened and saw. "What in blazes are you doing?," he queried. "Oh, just putting a few points in the beard." A group of jolly good men brought a stumbling William Shakespeare home in the wee hours of the morning. When Mrs. Shakespeare came to the door and asked what was going on, the men said, " Oh, just putting a few pints in the bard."
Vic had written some very kind remarks about me and my football team in his Sunday morning sports column. I, in turn, facetiously made him an honorary assistant coach which included a pair of rose colored glasses, a list of moving vans companies for less and a number of trite speeches, complete with cliches, that go well at banquets. He, naturally, printed my letter in another sports column. We had some fun during those ante bellum times.
Well, one Saturday evening, I had gone over to his home to share some material with him and while we were chatting in his living room, his rather comely, statuesque daughter, who appeared to be in her mid twenties, entered the room and set up and ironing board. She ignored our presence and there was nothing particularly unusual about her ironing except that she was wearing nothing more than some lacy under garments. My normal glibness became more taciturn and I became totally obsessed at staring at the opposite wall. I was in the home of a responsible member of the press, his daughter was pressing some clothes and I quickly remembered that I had some pressing engagements elsewhere. I quickly dismissed myself without looking back. Who knows? I could have turned to stone!
Have you ever wondered why some women wear provocative clothing, but become incensed when you are caught staring? Me neither.
*********Written by my good friend, Tony Adams