RIP Uncle Worley...and thanks for all the smiles you leave behind.

I love to spin a good story...

For most of us that blog, storytelling is the underlying motivation that brings us back to a blank page to start anew time and time again.


But even the best story can't hold up without interesting, compelling characters. Successful writers are quick to point out the larger a base the central character appeals, the better chance the story will be widely accepted.

A day not too long ago, the Crazy Tomato and I were driving in relative silence as she looked out her window in deep thought.


Crazy Tomato: Dad, are there any real dragons?

Tony C: (playfully) Not anymore honey.

Crazy Tomato: They're all dead? Were there any around here?

Tony C: The last dragon around these parts was killed in McPheeter's Bend a long time ago by your Uncle Worley.

Crazy Tomato: Uncle Worley?

Tony C: Actually, he's your great uncle. You've never met him, but he's a retired dragon slayer.

Crazy Tomato: Does he have a real sword? Can I meet him?

Tony C: You sure can. When you do, ask him about killing that dragon.

Silence once again feel in the car as I quietly chuckled to myself.

Some of you might find lying to a 4-year-old a bit distasteful. Personally, I can't differentiate between the colorful anecdotes I embellish for her amusement and the nightly stories she reads before bedtime.

Fact is, the character of this particular story truly is a larger than life person...or I should say... was. Uncle Worley passed away lasted night at 10:30 after a battle with lung cancer that, unlike that dragon, he just couldn't beat.

Unfortunately, the Crazy Tomato never got to meet and ask him about that dragon.

My uncle by marriage to my father's middle sister, Worley was as unique as human beings can be and the center in many, many real stories that actually require no embellishment from a storyteller like me. He was as genuine as he was free-spirited...as generous as he was caring.

Worley lost his wife and my aunt in 1976 to the same dreaded killer that got him last night. He never remarried. The son and daughter their marriage produced (pictured) before cancer stole my aunt away at an early age are like my brother and sister instead of my cousins. My aunt was a good Christian and loving soul, and her fingerprint is still very much evident on those she left behind so long ago...including Uncle Worley.

Worley travelled the country working for a good part of his life after she passed. Every new town he entered as a stranger he left as a friend. His gregarious demeanor and uncomplicated approach made him not only easy to get to know...but also quick to accept.

He believed strongly in the mission of the Shriners and was stereotypical of the large hearts and good times the group is noted. I recall passing through a certain fundraising roadblock the Shiners were conducting while travelling through a town several hundred miles from my home. As I dropped a dollar in the bucket...

Tony C: Do you guys know Worley B by chance?

First Shriner: From up in East Tennessee? You better believe it. Great fellow!

Second Shriner: That where you're from?

Tony C: Sure is, and he's my uncle.

They both passed business cards to me to give to him when I returned with salutations. That was just Worley.

While on an exercise in Twenty-Nine Palms California during my service, I took leave and travelled to Victorville where he was working to visit. The trip coincided with a visit from his mother and daughter. Worley had been there about 8 months working on a new plant for his employing company. Shortly after arriving, he invited me and my cousin to accompany him to his local "watering hole."  She was very reluctant, but I persisted until she came along while her grandmother rested from the long trip.

As we walked into the bar/restaurant attached to the local Ramada Inn, words simply won't do justice to what I'm about to describe. A live band was playing for the forty or so people gathered and kicking off their weekend. As we walked through the double doors, a scene that Norm from Cheers would be jealous to witness transpired...as the singer for the band literally stopped in mid-song to announce "Worley!"

Glasses went up in salute. My cousin and I paid for absolutely nothing that evening as people went out of their way to buy us stuff. He was well loved when he finally departed California a year or so later, but he was well loved long before then too. That was Worley, and just a couple of the many stories he leaves behind.

I grieve with my family today at the loss of this larger than life character. But much like his wife who left us some 35 years ago, his fingerprint of influence will continue long after the pain of that hurt subsides.

...and he will keep killing dragons as long as I can manage to spin a story or two.

  

"I don't have to look up my family tree, because I know that I'm the sap. " Fred Allen

Things are changing too darn fast around my house...


I'm constantly joking about the three daughters getting jobs, getting their own place and visiting every week...or so. Truth is, I joke about it to hopefully ease the hurt of the eventuality of that reality.

My oldest is driving, working and getting information from perspective colleges in the mail all since the arrival of the new year. Seems like just yesterday the picture on our refrigerator was snapped of me taking her to kindergarten her first day of school...

I'm the only male grandchild in my paternal grandfather's line with children. Our family name will go with me to my grave...or urn... since they are all girls. Not long ago, the three of them were together in the living room, and I called a impromptu family meeting:

Tony C:  Listen girls. Two things. First, one of you will be keeping your last name when you get
              married. Period.
              Second, somebody will get the $5,000 elopement prize. When it's your turn to marry, you
              elope and get 5 large. Teenager, don't see that deal in your future since you'll be the first.
              Crazy  Tomato and Bulldog, work it out amongst yourselves and let me know at least 24
              hours in  advance.

Teenager: That stinks! I want the money, and I'm changing my name too! That's dumb dad!

Crazy Tomato: Why do we have to change our names? I just learned to spell my last name. Mom!

Bulldog: (blowing kisses) Bye! Bye, bye, bye...

Okay. Maybe it's a little early in the game for family meetings. But, I never underestimate the importance of communication in the dad/daughter dynamic regardless of age, since the window of reception is so small. You never know when those 27 minutes of complete acceptance might occur from birth to walking down the aisle with your daughter...or driving to City Hall if that's in their cards.

The thing that bothers me the most when the day does finally comes that all of the chicks are gone from the nest is... exactly what will I do for entertainment? Sure, it will be nice to go to the bathroom in peace, watch what I want (and when) on the big TV or jump in the car for an excursion at will.

Wait...was there a counterpoint?

Entertainment! That's right. I'm constantly entertained at the expense of my three girls. From dumb comments like it's 30 past referring to the time by the teenager to the Crazy Tomato lining up Cheezits through the hallway trying to lead the Bulldog to her playhouse in the backroom, I'm constantly in stitches at the house from all the shenanigans. What will replace that?

Mrs. Tony C might be in a lot of trouble when that day finally comes...and all my focus moves to her. Might behoove her to start suggesting hobbies to yours truly.

"...because I think religion of infinitely higher importance than politics..." Patrick Henry, 1796

Recently, I've been in discussions about the religious views of our nation's Founding Fathers. Titling those words is appropriate, I believe, because we've come to accept that specific label for the group of men pictured...among others.

The point of contention with most people seems center around whether or not our country was founded as a Christian nation...and I personally believe that argument to be dubious at best if not all together moot.

Nazi Germany of 1940 was a 'Christian' nation...

The outcry from most Christians is that Progressives are rewriting history to try to eliminate the role religion played during the infancy of America. There's little to no doubt  that may be true, but Christians are just as guilty of the very same deceptions.

And shouldn't we be the bigger person in the room?

History too well records the atheistic beliefs prevalent in the writings of Thomas Jefferson and the straight up blasphemy of both Benjamin Franklin and John Adams (a proclaimed Unitarian). Thomas Paine, a renowned Deist, wrote I would not dare to so dishonor my Creator God by attaching His name to that book (the Bible). So why do we deny these facts, or even worse, corrupt and distort them?

While the motive may be a noble defense of Christian legitimacy, the resulting effects of altering the truths of history are far more destructive to the cause of our faith. The Church has been in continuous existence since Pentecost following the Ascension of Christ (Acts 2:1-6), and far more damage has been done to His cause as a result of alterations to the true message as opposed to direct attacks on Christian principles (Inquisitions, Crusades and stake burnings come to mind). God's Word will stand until the very end, and all we need to do is promote and defend that Truth as presented in the Holy Bible. God doesn't need America to facilitate His will...actually...He doesn't need anything from us. Christianity existed long before this nation came along and will continue to exist should our country ever fail and fall.

Jesus didn't come to embrace the Roman Empire of the first century.  He lived under its rule and was executing in accordance with its laws. Jesus came to fulfill God's will...His plan for our redemption. Christ came and established a personal connection with but a very few people, yet from those connections...a movement of historically unmatched precedence was formed. That fact doesn't require embellishment or exaggeration on any one's part...especially Christians.

We've become both spoiled and ignorant in this country, and I state that with a grateful but heavy heart. We're overindulged with the luxuries resulting from numerous civil liberties. Religious persecution is a concept that exist only in other parts of the world, and its absence has resulting in a softening of our core beliefs. Very few people can tell you why they truly believe what they proclaim to believe because their ideas are largely unchallenged in a diverse culture of acceptance. Complacency has also replaced an undying quest for knowledge, and we've become a society content with lazily accepting what we hear or read without question. Critical thinking is slowly dying...even among those most educated in our midst.

Nothing good will ever come from distorting the truth. Nothing. Even when that truth isn't necessarily what we want to hear. The reality of fact that Jefferson, Franklin or Adams weren't men of Christian faith in no way hampers my pride as an American or lessens the contribution they made to form the greatest of nations. On the other hand as a Christian, it pains me dearly to think such great men died unwilling to accept an eternal gift given by a most gracious Creator. But then... that could just as well be easily said about anyone else who fails to believe. Why? Because Thomas Jefferson is no more important in God's eyes than the other lowly thief that hung beside His Son that dark day and refused to accept who Jesus was and died in his sins.

By altering the truth of history, we lessen the greatness and impact of men who were in fact good Christians and major contributors in the founding of our country...men like Samuel Adams, Alexander Hamilton and Patrick Henry.  Face facts...our Founding Fathers were just not all wearing the same hat of piousness and no amount of revision in our minds will push some of our historical heroes through the gates of Heaven. So, don't be guilty of putting the two thieves on the same cross...Jesus made a promise but to one of them...the one who saw and accepted the Truth.

Was our country founded as a Christian nation?

I'm not exactly sure how that really matter over 200 years later. The more important question to ask is exactly what are each of us doing today to shine as individual lights for our Savior? After all, that's what we've been commanded to do...

No Cracker Barrel for me this year...just Zumba!

To say I love my wife would be the greatest of understatements...

My one and only Valentine today is everything to me. But I'll spare you the mushy, sloppy details. I need to say no more about my love and commitment to my Mrs. Tony C than this:

I'm going to Zumba tonight! Eyah!

That's right. Not some fancy restaurant with low lighting and half chocolate covered fruit. Not a quick overnight get away with no kids present or pajamas required. Not even a simple date night of nothing more than Applebee's and a chick flick. Nope.

Instead, I'm going to a room full of women people and sweating like a...well, you know...while I shake my groove thing.  Just call it love.

Truth be told, I'd do it naked in my front yard (at least until the police arrived or my neighbor mercy killed me with a head shot) if that's what she wanted. I can say that with complete confidence because I know good and well Jesus will be back before that thought ever transposes from her mind to mouth. But I'd sure do it!

It's just too easy to Hallmark or Russell Stovers your feelings on a day like today. Don't get me wrong... I respect and applaud those of you making that effort. I've just used up all such simplistic offerings of affection while making up for my many other bonehead moves and comments through my near eight years of marriage to the most of perfect of brides. An angel on Earth if there ever was one I tell you! 

Yep...I'm working on a whole different level here guys. Not to mention in just a mere 90 day window, I go through Christmas, her birthday, Valentines Day and our anniversary...celebrating the absolute greatest day of my life!

Poetic justice on a guy who once loathed and despised Valentines Day.

So tonight, I'll don my stretchy pants and vest and anchor that back row down with hooting and hollering as if Ricky Martin himself were leading the class. Wait...that was way too gay and dated...as if Selena Gomez were up front.

No wait! My wife leads the class! And does the absolute best job ever too!

Wonder if it's too late to get roses...

I really don't care what kind of music they play...

We know each other pretty well, don't we? I mean...we're tight? Because today I'm going to discuss something pretty personal, and I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. That's just not my style.

Now I'm not really sure any subject can be considered too personal these days with television commercials hyping everything from...well....you know...female monthly stuff to erectile dysfunction pills and gadgets. There's even those toilet paper ads with the cartoon bears and paper stuck to their behinds. Come on!  Do I really need to see that?!

Which somewhat brings me to my subject matter today. Due to work circumstance, I was late getting home and missed church last night. Okay. Not the full story...

It's well documented we are creatures of habit, and I could easily be Exhibit A for that hypothesis. When I come home from work, I move my way through the greeting hugs and kisses, ceremonial small talk and straight to a personal asylum...my bathroom.

The possessive pronoun is pivotal here.

 Did I have time to sprint home in a mad dash and still make it to church? I'm sure that was possible but would also have likely resulted in doing something I haven't done since around 1977...and that's use a public restroom to...well...you know...not number one.

Recent events (or lack thereof) were clearly not in my favor. Despite a regular regiment of oatmeal and fiber tablets, things were just  a little 'off schedule', and the lack of  said activities was demanding a need for movement. Look. I'm a first thing in the morning and immediately after work kind of guy, and I'm at that age where...well...you know...becomes a crucial indicator of one's overall health. A systems check if you will.

I'd like to blame the Marine Corps for my obsession over using the bathroom anywhere besides my home throne, but that wouldn't be exactly accurate. I never, ever did that at the school while in high school. Ever. I remember leaving school one day at the bequest of either bad breakfast sausage or a bad case of nerves resulting from a conversation with...let's call her Katie...and running the half mile to my house to answer the call and back again.

The Corps probably did, however, magnify my demand for private accommodations. There's nothing quite as contemptuous as....well...you know...while looking directly across at five others also...well...you know. There are no doors or stalls at Officer Candidate School.

I won't even attempt explaining a straddle trench when you're in the field. Trust me...not pretty.

Now you're probably wondering why...well...you know...is any different than say showering after football practice in the field house or in needed community situations while in the Corps. Nakedness isn't the problem here. It's just a privacy issue...okay...a hang up with me. It even aggravates the...well...you know...out of me when the Crazy Tomato lingers outside my bathroom door while I'm in occupation. Or is that unoccupied? Anyway, I don't like it! That is my time of solitude and reflection and inevitably where most of my pending novel ideas originate.

Naturally, Mrs. Tony C finds all this quite comical and takes advantage at every opportunity to poke fun. Last night she found humor in going to church and letting people know why I wasn't there. How do I know this? Oh...I got text messages.

From Keith: Now I've heard every excuse for missing church lol.
Tony C response: I seriously doubt that. I can be pretty creative.

I'll spare you the text message conversation with my wife earlier that involved the subject related vernacular prairie dogging... now THAT was funny!

For the record, I don't even...well...you know...in front of Mrs. Tony C either and never will as long as fully capable.  Besides, I'm a lot older than her and figure she'll get plenty enough time to assist me with those needs at some point in the future.

Who's laughing now?

Just what the heck is going on here Al Gore...

It's 72 degrees with 66 percent humidity as I write this in Kaneohe Bay on the island of Oahu, Hawaii.

In Johnson City, Tennessee, the temperature right now is 63 degrees with 40 percent humidity.

While one of those stats is completely normal for any given Groundhog's Day in recent past, the latter is a tad bit unnerving.

Before you go flying off the handle ranting and raving about 'normal weather cycles' and 'global warming quacks', the average high for this day in East Tennessee is 46 degrees with the record high being set in 1989 at 70 degrees. The record low is 0 in 1981. Unfortunately, I remember that winter all too well.

Now maybe you're one of those people who want to blame that drastic temperature swing on the spike in minivan sales in the 80's, or maybe you believe there's a government cover up of alien terraforming in Central America that will soon be exposed by Charlie Sheen on YouTube. Hey...I'm not here to judge. All I know is something freaky is going on, and if things don't change, I've got a couple of unused sleds for sale...real cheap.

When Mrs. Tony C and I bought our current abode in 2008, I was excited about the location on a hill that was primo for sledding action. Finally, the Crazy Tomato is of sledding age, but unless we make a major investment in an artificial snow machine, she's stuck with scooter propulsion for the foreseeable future.



I'm guessing I'd be far more popular with my water department than neighbors if I took that leap...

The real problem is she doesn't really know what she's missing! With no prior sledding experiences to reference, all the Crazy Tomato knows about sledding she learned watching Frosty the Snowman a few weeks back and maybe an episode of Dumbest Stuff on Wheels...which I will neither confirm nor deny she watched with me one night while her mother was gone.

All I'm saying is while I'm thankful for wearing a short sleeve polo and Crocs to work today...wait...I wear that every day.

All I'm saying is while I'm thankful for not having to commute 23 miles in slush while surrounded by idiots with misplaced expectations for their four-wheel drive vehicles, it would be nice to do a little downhilling in the backyard with the kids at least once before time Springs forward and we're back at the pool.

Don't even get me started on the whole time change thing. What a crock (with a 'k') that is. I might move back to Hawaii where they don't change the time because someone in the government thinks it's a good idea.

For sale: Two unused sleds. Brand new. Be the first to break them in this winter. Buy one, get  one free...

Have I told you lately that I love you...and that I'm an idiot?

 Yesterday was the birthday of the most important person in my life, and somehow I managed to pop the celebratory balloons...


<---------That's the Crazy Tomato posing with the cake she and I made her mom. CT insisted it be a princess cake, and I completely understand why. Her mom is a princess. But instead of getting the royal treatment from yours truly yesterday, I decided to let a lot of unnecessary baggage be the wet blanket of the weekend.

You have no idea how sorry I am for that fact too.

January 29th is the pinnacle day for Mrs. Tony C's year.  Before the little ones came along, we started the New Year off not with Happy New Year! but rather with Happy Birthday Month!, so her birthday was a big deal...no...a huge deal.

While some of the luster and anticipation has somewhat diminished with the rug rats now around, the day is still very special to me and always will be. Despite the rigors of the daily grind we all go through day in and day out, it is this one special day I get to set aside and focus exclusively on just her.  Unfortunately, it didn't happen that way yesterday.

Sure. We attended the funeral of a family friend last night, but it wasn't necessarily a sad event. Brother Rudolph had lived a great life and leaves behind a tremendous testimony and tons of great memories. No...that just wasn't the cause of the turmoil.

Without going into the humiliating details that are, quite frankly, none of anyone else's business, I take full responsibility for funkifing the festivities. A few deep breaths and a slow count to ten would have been far better serving for me yesterday than the path I chose, but we all know the adage too well concerning hindsight.

Thankfully, I have Valentine's Day in February and our wedding anniversary in March to make amends. No...not quite the same, so I'll have to double my efforts this 2012 go around and make both memorable!

I complete adore my wife, and I am hopelessly in love with everything about her!

Did you necessarily need to hear that? Probably not near as much as I needed to declare it publicly, so thanks for helping me out. I've always known you are the best readers a blogger could have, and now I seriously owe you one.

Happy Day After Birthday my love! Hope you have many more with me...and continue to be the most forgiving soul I've ever put to the test.

See...I told you she was a princess (in pink)...



I'm truly one lucky dude.

But I know what I am and I'm glad I'm a man...and don't call me Lola!

My masculinity has been called into question of late, and I'm mad as heck about it too!



There. That sounded pretty forceful. I've been called a lot of different things in my life, but accused of being dainty or effeminate (read sissy) are tags I've never had to wear...for good reason.

While there have been a few descriptive adjectives thrown my direction in the past that, admittedly, made me a bit uncomfortable, I won't rehash said accusatory attributes to avoid giving credence. However, I also won't deny many...okay, maybe most...were easily justifiable.

But I'm drawing a line in the sand on being branded unmanly!

Metrosexual I'll accept...renaissance man I prefer. I honestly have Mrs. Tony C to thank for it coming to this showdown too. She's always going on about what a great cook I am, and how I do all the clothes ironing and how easily I get flowers to grow, and yada...yada...yada. What's she doing to me! She's destroying my very manhood!

I've been a football player, a jock, a competitive power lifter, a hunter and outdoorsman... a United States Marine for the love of God! I can fix the brakes on my car, repair major appliances around the house, fix holes in sheet rock and even fix a busted toilet. That's plumbing! You hear that? Plumbing! Nothing is more masculine than plumbing! That's right...I said that!

Okay. Maybe I am one of very few men to be found using Pinterest. What's the big deal? I've gotten some great ideas for the garage, projects lined up for the yard come Spring and... okay, a few pretty awesome recipes. Doesn't mean I wear lacy panties! I'm just a refined consumer of available internet information using the most efficient means available to me. I've got an ESPN app on my phone too!

Big deal I do ZUMBA.  I told you last year I made a commitment to Mrs. Tony C to improve my overall health. After eliminating sodas and a few other small dietary changes, I shed 30 lbs by Christmas. Granted, the y-axis on my line chart (where y represents weight and x represents time) probably made an upward tick in December. Actually...it assuredly spiked upward which resulted in a need to kick it up a notch  put things into a higher gear! Since Mrs. Tony C was instructing her own ZUMBA class three times a week, I just wanted to be a supportive husband. It was the best of both worlds! I get in shape and brownie points for being supportive. Win-win!

What's ZUMBA you ask? Well, it's part aerobics, part dance and a lot of moving. ZUMBA is really hard to describe, so here's a video that shows you...





Okay. Maybe that was a mistake. But I don't do all the moves! Well...I can't do all the moves. Mrs. Tony C can bend like a willow branch and comes in at a 100+ pounds lighter. I'm no pansy...or fool.

Look. There's no way I can be accused of being effeminate and here's proof why. I made an unfortunate bet with a fellow sports radio broadcaster years back when our respective teams played each other and lost. The pay up? Going to the rival school's pep rally dressed in formal prom attire...for a girl!

There won't be any pictures posted, but believe me, it was scary ugly, and I nearly killed myself trying to walk in a 2 inch heel...case closed.

That's not even a word according to my spell check...

I mean come on! You can't be serious... Unfriend?!




My initial reason for jumping into the social media fray so long ago was what I thought to be out of necessity (explained here). While it's a never ending, uphill battle, I try to be a responsible and conscientious parent. Go where the kids are if you want to know what's going on may seem like common sense advice, but least we never forget that common sense is hardly common place...and even rarer is universally common (aka one size fits all) when it comes to kids.

Then I was hooked.

I began to see the growing potential to market the Stick With Jesus website, expand my blog readership, spread the Good News and reconnect with some old friends who had been MIA for quite some time. Pretty soon I leaped from MySpace to Facebook...way before my teenage daughter gave it a thought. 'Facebook is for old people!' was her stand on the issue, and as usually, turns out old dad was just a step ahead of her.

I'm seriously fighting the urge to go nanny, nanny, boo-boo, who's old now? But I'll refrain for such an immature display of celebratory arrogance...at least for now.

Today the whole world and then some are part of the social media craze called Facebook. My darling spouse came kicking and screaming to the 'dark side' back in late 2009, and now she spends more time on her iPhones app picture stalking...I mean...checking up on her own old friends than she does watching Criminal Minds reruns, Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice combined. Actually, she usually peruses FB while watching those shows. What was I thinking?

But let me not poke fun of my beloved in fear of some type of stinging retribution. While there are numerous counter-punches in her arsenal when it comes to me specifically, I'm pretty sure she would go straight to her most used (and time-tested) counter concerning the all important Friends list. Let's face it...Facebook without friends is like the proverbial Buddhist monk trying to clap with one hand.

What's the point?

Her jab is of my own making too which makes the sting even worse. Let me explain. I just refuse to turn down any friend request. Not one goes unconfirmed. She is, on the other hand,  more selective about who 'makes the cut'  than sports writers are about their precious MLB Hall of Fame inductees.
There just an element of WWJD at play in the whole process for me. Clicking the Delete Request button is so...anti-Jesus.

Now this position comes with a few undesirable consequences I will admit. There's the Rude and Obnoxious crew that post status updates that don't necessarily reflect my own...ahem...value system, the Past Girlfriend section that really do me no favors strolling down memory lane on my Wall, the Old College Buddies who need to apply the whole 'stays in Vegas' adage to their story telling (regardless of Statute of Limitation expiration), and least we not forget...wait...okay the Past Girlfriend thing is a little ego boosting...but strictly in a platonic way!

Still, having over 1600 friends does makes my News Feed look like rolling credits at the end of a show.

Do I personally know/have known these people? Probably not. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't care to  meet them...well...at least most of them anyway. What I do have a serious problem with is people who use social media sites to subjugate the rest of us to their personal dramas. Got a sick friend or family member? I'd be glad to lift them up in prayer. Recent job promotion? Kudos to you, we celebrate together. Kid stuck a Lego block up their nose? Those do make some of the funniest pictures. Caught your boyfriend cheating with neighbor's dog? Seriously...I just don't need that information or the resulting thread of Comments in my day or thoughts. Maybe it's just me...

Just this very weekend I was somewhat forced to Unfriend someone from my list due to the teenager's drama. It was only the second time in almost four years I've done that, and the first time was truly a matter of self-preservation (and even then I felt bad). Who would ever guess high school relationships are almost always temporary...


So where does it all end? Believe me. Facebook is a finite plaything in a fickle world. The Restart button surely can't be too far away. Wish I'd hurry and get the new thing idea first...

"Let us swear while we may, for in Heaven it will not be allowed." Mark Twain

For some reason, I find cussing quite perplexing... but that's to myself of course.


Let me qualify that opening statement by drawing some clear distinctions about what cussing actually is or isn't in my opinion.

In the inarticulate world of expletives, there are undefined categories that none the less draw obvious conclusions. While most people haphazardly lump cursing, cussing, profanity and vulgarity under an all-inclusive verbal umbrella, I challenge the notion as a mere bastardizing of the English language.

Cussing is not a form of cursing. The root meaning of cuss is generally defined as saying bad words. Therefore, cursing would actually be a form of cussing, as is also using profanity, vulagarity or any other inappropriate verbiage deemed by society.

To curse is to actually wish misfortune upon another person or persons. That's bad no matter how you paint it up. Besides...who are you to determine the eternal fate of any soul just because they might have cut you off in traffic one day. Seems a bit arrogant on your part to flaunt such an important task...again, in my opinion.

Using profanity is worse than cursing! Being profane is actually showing contempt for God Almighty by very definition. Whoa! Now we're on a slippery slope! While the subject matter of the eternal fate of one's soul is still fresh, you might want to give serious thought to the next Holy Cow, Holy #%$@ or Holy (fill in blank) that comes flying out of your mouth. By the way, Jesus doesn't have a middle initial.

Let me stop right here just a second. If you know me or read Tony C Today at all, then my background as a former Marine is no secret. While it's true that colorful language and service to one's country are somehow linked in the minds of the masses...well, okay...that's actually a pretty fair assessment. Not sure where I was taking that.

It's not as if the use of certain words, phrases or references to genealogy are taught as a course in basic training. As a matter of fact, I specifically remember a class given to new Marine officers at Quantico during The Basic School that discouraged the use of cursing and profanity when addressing other Marines and blatantly denouncing such use in front of the opposite sex. Chivalry still lives...at least in fairy tales and the United States Marine Corps.

Cursing the Army or the Navy, however,  was expected and encouraged. By the way, Marines consider the Air Force a civilian occupation.

I recall, unfortunately, an incident at my parents home while visiting on leave one Christmas while active duty. Raised as a proper Southern gentleman, the use of any word deemed inappropriate in front of one's mother is considered both tacky and crude. Unrefined by the very nature of the offense.  Even in the days when my language wasn't as sophisticated (read clean) as maybe it should have been, I never uttered words considered potty in front of either of my parents (take note young people...it's a respect thing).  But on this single occasion, duty back in Hawaii called...literally.

Since this story happens prior to the plethora of cheap mass communition means of today, Ma Bell was my only choice short of a telegram to stay in touch with my command. As the Executive Officer, or XO, of a company of Marines at the time, discipline was my very business...and business was always open and a booming.  During one of my call backs, my prized customers (one Private A. Jones) was up to his usual shenanigans. After listening to his platoon commander fill me in on the details, I requested Private Jones be put on the other end of the line.

For the next 90 seconds, it was as if General George Patton himself possessed my every word. A dressing down of near-epic proportions ensued.

After hanging up the phone (which was attached to the wall thus limiting my mobility) and collecting myself, I walked back into the living room to find my terrified mother gasping in sheer disbelief. An unforgettable sight. My father, known for his on use of unseemly verboseness, was just staring at the floor fully aware of the humiliation I was about to experience from his own prior offenses. To my mother, you just didn't say words like:

@#%$ - under any circumstance,

#$%!@ -  just blasphemous and completely inexcusable,

&%$$@)@!?#^ - required a visit from Preacher Taylor and some form of absolution, and

*?#%&@!   @#*+!@ - well, you just didn't go there.

But, I had used them all during that rather short conversation in various forms from verb to compound adjective.

I felt great shame...and rightly so.

Today, I just don't use profanity. I also don't curse or dabble in vulgarities either, although I do understand the differences. Vulgarity is most often directly associated with bodily parts, functions and/or consequences thereof, and such language is taboo in the Tony C household because nothing is more embarrassing than your 4-year old squealing "Ewww, somebody farted!" while you're waiting to check out in line at the grocery store. Believe me...I've been called out.

For the record, Mrs. Tony C also doesn't actually allow any words or references dealing with flatulence other than excuse me to be utter in our home. Heck...I even have to spell s-t-u-p-i-d (not even cussing) if I ever use the word...which seriously diminishes the intended effect by yelling letters at the idiot that just cut you off in traffic!

Not to mention we house a teenager, and believe me, I think the word, among several others I must spell, quite often...