Friday, January 29, 2010

That's Right, I'm a Buckeye

Most people who have never lived in Ohio just don't understand that Columbus, Ohio (and every Ohio town within 100 miles) "IS" Ohio State Football. Having moved to Ohio from Florida (and now back in Florida again), I didn't quite understand the whole obsession with college football. I have to tell you though, the Buckeye itch is not something you can ignore. What's that old saying, "Once a Buckeye, always a Buckeye" and " I bleed Scarlet and Grey". I am and I do.

We start in May with the spring game. All summer we watch the news for the scoop on the players and the practices. We plan our Saturdays around each game starting in August and we don't quit until January. We yell out "O-H!" even in church and somebody will answer "I-O!" Our newscasters wear Scarlet and Gray. Entire cities are familiar with such characters as "The Neutron Man" and "Buckeye Man". Grown men who are famous for little more than being awesome football fans.

Nobody here ever wonders who Sloopy is. Bands and Rappers make the beginnings of careers with songs taunting the opposition "Michigan Who?". TBDBITL makes little kids WANT to sign up for marching band. We BELIEVE in the killer nut-ness of Brutus Buckeye, possibly the goofiest and least intimidating mascot in the history of sports. We are a city, a state and a nation (don't laugh we Buckeyes are EVERYWHERE) united in our love for a team, a tradition and a perfectly coiffed man in a sweater vest. I really do miss Ohio :(


Through a very good friend of mine, I have come to like John Mayer very much. I have always been a fan of slow rhythm music. The sounds of John Mayer have a tendancy to relax me in my many times of stress. And now, for your listening pleasure... I give you Mr. John Mayer... Enjoy.

The Touch of the Masters Hand

It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"

But, No, From the room far back
A gray bearded man came forward
and picked up the bow
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
and tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet.
As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.

"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice
Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered, But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?" Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

And many a man with life out of tune
All battered and scarred with sin
Is auctioned cheap to a thankless world
Much like that old violin.

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.
But the Master comes,

And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.

Myra Brooks Welch

Wednesday, January 27, 2010


The wise man said,
“Life is a chessboard, of nights and of days.

Where men are the pawns of God.
Moved here and there.
God allows them to love and to lose.
 Allows them to know happiness and sorrow.
To have much and nothing.
God allows them to kill and be killed.
Piece by piece he puts them back into the box.
There is a destiny for every piece.
A destiny for every player.
A destiny for all things.
Control is not for them to have,
Because the hand of God is upon them all.”