Background happy feet

In my column on Monday, I wrote about Macon native Callie Thompson having a small speaking part in the movie “Happy Feet.’’ It has been No.1 at the box office for the past two weeks.

It’s an adorable animated film about a little penguin who cannot sing (that's how penguins find their soul mates) but instead learns to tap dance.

Callie, 7, now lives in California with her parents, Brett and DeRynn hompson, and her brother, Carr. Both Callie and Carr are aspiring young actors.

I didn’t know which voice to listen for, so Brett e-mailed me with this information:

“Callie plays the background voice of some of the children penguins and one of the little girls in the zoo season at the end. So, she doesn't play a voice of any of the named characters. So, basically, when you see the scenes with the children penguins and the girls at the zoo, she is one of those voices.’’

YAC takes on NYC

On our recent trip to New York City with Theatre Macon’s Youth Actors Company, we visited the the Madame Tussauds Wax Museum on 42nd Street.

This is the second time I have been, and it was just as amazing as the first time with more than 200 wax figures. I rubbed elbows with Tiger Woods and George Bush, and got to put my arms around Teri Hatcher, although I must admit it was not as much of a thrill since she smelled like a candle.

The detail in these wax figures is amazing, all done to scale and right down to the hair on their arms.

Above is a group shot we had made in Central Park, and below is a photo of some of us with Times Square as a backdrop. I’ve also posted a photo of me conversing with F. Scott Fitzgerald and Jake riding in the Tour de France with Lance Armstrong.

Reggie Ball's Number Retired

I guess I should feel sorry for Reggie Ball.

Georgia Tech fans say they’ll be glad to see him graduate. The problem is -- he is their starting quarterback.

OK, Ball didn’t play particularly well in Saturday’s 15-12 loss to the Bulldogs. He lost a fumble that was turned into a wacky touchdown. He threw an interception late in the game. His numbers were awful.

But he wasn’t the only reason Tech lost the game and dropped the sixth straight in the storied rivalry. As I recall, there were lots of other miscues by the Yellow Jackets.

Georgia fans, however, derive a certain amount of glee from Ball’s shortcomings against the Bulldogs in his four years as a starter. He intentionally threw a pass out of bounds on fourth down in the waning moments two years ago while Tech was trying to rally. He threw an interception at the goal line last year while the Jackets were moving in to tie the game late.

Only four jerseys have been retired in the history of Georgia football -- Frank Sinkwich (21), Charley Trippi (62 ), Macon native Theron Sapp (40) and Herschel Walker (34).

A Georgia fan sent me the above photograph.

You’ll probably get a chuckle out of it -- unless you’re a Tech fan.
Photo courtesy of UGA Athletic Association

Dad's Memorial Service

Our family gathered for lunch before the memorial service.

We held the memorial service for my father on Sunday. It was one of the saddest days of my life, and one of the happiest, too. It was more a celebration of his life than the mourning of his death.

More than 30 family members gathered for lunch at John Wesley Villas. The service at First Baptist was about as close to perfect as it could be. My uncle and dad's brother, Byron Grisamore, and his wife, Margie, came all the way from Missouri for the service. Also my cousin, Phillip, and his wife, Donna. It was very special they could be there with us.

My sister, Gay, and I spoke on behalf of the family. My sister, Sally, gave the benediction. My brother, Charles, and sister, Susie, presented the flag to my mother. Two U.S. Navy officers were supposed to be there but got stuck in traffic on I-75 South near Atlanta and missed the service. We had several dozen folks from Atlanta who had the same thing happen. A few of them arrived late, but made the reception. Several had to turn around and go back.

My son, Ed, and nephew, Jack Hall, both read scripture. Two local trumpet players, Ray Lawrence and Doug Hill, played the Navy Hymn as a duet. Our pastor, Bob Setzer, beautifully eulogized my father. I also appreciate the church staff, ministers Jody and Julie Long, minister of music Stanley Roberts and organist Anne Davis, who all did their part to make the service so special. We sang two hymns -- "This is My Fathers World" and "Great is Thy Faithfulness.''
The staff at Hart's Mortuary was tremendous. And the amazing Teddi Wohlford catered the reception.

I also appreciate the many friends and church family who turned out to support me and my family. Among them was Bruce Goddard. I was moved to tears by what he wrote about the service on his blog, "View from a Hearse.'' Read it here.

We reprinted the column I wrote about my dad in the program. Read it here. His memory lives on in each of us.

No longer star of the show

I can remember a time when the turkey was the centerpiece of the Thanksgiving meal.

It was the star of the show. Everything revolved around the bird.

For some folks, it’s still that way. But it has lost some of its glamour for me because I now eat turkey all the time.

Growing up, I could count on one hand the number of times we had turkey during the year. Now, I sometimes eat it two or three times a week.

I smoke turkeys on my grill. We get sliced turkey at the deli and have sandwiches.

It’s just not as special as it used to be.

Happy Thanksgiving 2006

Happy Thanksgiving!!!!
From the Grisamores

Still more from the Gratitude Journal

Photo by Joel Edward Grisamore

On this day before Thanksgiving, I am opening my gratitude journal again.

It is for these things I am thankful:

For big front porches. I wish I had one. … For those weekends when the wife decides: “No, we really don’t have to go to that wedding.’’ …

For stores that are small enough where you can find what you’re looking for without getting winded. … For gravity, which keeps me grounded. … For Forrest Gump, which keeps moving up on my list of all-time favorite movies. …

That I don’t live in a place where people have no manners. … For those times when I don’t have to fight over who gets the chicken drumstick. … For people who speak to you in the elevator instead of just staring at the floor numbers lighting up about the door. … For picnics up at Jack’s Place at the river.

(Coming Thursday: More from the Gratitude Journal.)

More from the Gratitude Journal

Photo by Joel Edward Grisamore

In these days leading up to Thanksgiving, Icontinue to open my gratitude journal.

It is for these things I am thankful:

For spectacular fall afternoons that take your breath away. … For letters that begin: Dear Mr. Grisamore, thank you for that wonderful, brilliant. … For the haircut that doesn’t look like you just got a haircut. …

That I’ve never had the urge to get a tattoo, even in a place where the sun don’t shine. … For the power of prayer. … For my mass communications class at Georgia College & State University in Milledgeville. …

For sweet little notes left on the coffee pot with little hearts and kisses. … For the car that starts on a cold morning and in a dark parking lot. ... For those reminders that the most important things in life aren’t things. …

(Coming Wednesday and Thursday: More from the Gratitude Journal.)

Gratitude Journal Part I

Photo by Joel Edward Grisamore

In these days leading up to Thanksgiving, I am opening my gratitude journal.

It is for these things I am thankful:

For the sound of a train in the night. …. For fried green tomato sandwiches. … For the sights and sound of children running through a sprinkler or playing in a fountain. … For pens that write when they’re supposed to write. …

For Altoids chewing gum (Wowgazowee, that stuff is strong!!!) ... For flannel pajamas when the chilly nights start arriving. … For friends with a hug or comforting word in a time of sorrow. …
For a new book and the time to read it …

For the politician who actually has something nice to say about his or her opponent. … For arch supports for aching feet. … For spelling checks on computers – heaven knows I need them. … For duct tape – it truly holds the world together. …

For blog readers.

(Coming Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday: More from the Gratitude Journal.)

Cashing in

I have been a country music fan for a long time. Yep, I was country when country wasn’t cool.

Growing up, I used to want to jump out the window of the car when I was riding with my dad and he would tune in to his favorite country radio station. I just wasn’t in to twang. I despised it.

In college, though, I started listening to a lot of crossover. By the time I graduated, my record collection was full of country music. I was hooked for life.

In fact, when I started dating Delinda in 1981, country music was among the common ground that brought us together. We have been married for 24 years.

What have I been listening to lately? Well, I’ve been riding around town with “American V: A Hundred Highways’’ in the CD player. It’s a collection of Johnny Cash recordings that have been released three years after his death in 2003.

It’s terrific. I think it’s also pretty neat that my 19-year-old son, Grant, is the one who gave me the CD. He told me it was the best anthology of songs released posthumously he had ever heard. Grant and others in his generation have come to realize the Man in Black’s range of influence on the music they now listen to and love.

The vocals were recorded a few months before Cash died in September 2003. Everything else was added two years later.

It’s very powerful and reflective. It’s spiritual and it’s sad. When Cash died three years ago, I was amazed at the variety of musicians who eulogized the man. He was truly among the giants of the past century.

These songs also come at a time in my life when the words and music – no matter how simple – are deep and meaningful.

Blessed be the tie that blinds

When it came to fashion, my dad used to believe if you held on to something long enough, it would come back in style.

Cuffs went out, then they became popular again. Double-breasted jackets? Just wait. They’ll be back. Button-down collars go in out and out of vogue. Penny loafers come and go. Saddle Oxfords will one day ride again.

I feel that way about ties. Twenty years ago, ties were as plain as brown-paper wrapper. Most of the time they were solid. Occasionally, you might get a striped or check pattern. That’s about as flamboyant as it would get.

Then, a few years back, ties were sassy and fun. They were colorful and creative. Men got bold. They dared to make a statement.

To paraphrase an old church hymn, blessed be the tie that blinds.

I thought about this the other day when I wore my “leaf” tie. It’s a pattern of fall leaves – a pretty combination of brown, red and blue. I can only wear this during the autumn months. It was one of the first creative ties I owned, and I bought it in the mid-1980s at the big outlet mall near Valdosta.

That was my first real venture into fancy tie fashion. I got so many compliments on that tie (still do) that I got even more brave and daring.

There was a time when I had almost every one of the popular “Save the Children” ties. These were ties with drawings by children of everything from playgrounds to school buses to Fourth of July celebrations. One of the most unusual was a tie with an ice cream cone stacked high with scoops of different flavors. It was very colorful against a solid red background.

The most unique tie in my wardrobe was one that was designed like a pencil with the point at the bottom of the tie. It was quite catchy and colorful.

Every time I wore these ties, I got lots of comments, especially from women. I think women take notice of the way men dress a lot more than men do. I could wear plain khaki pants and white shirt with a navy blazer, but if I wore an eye-catching tie it would add energy to the entire outfit.

Of course, ties have turned back to being more conservative in recent years. I’ve given a lot of those ties – once my signature wardrobe – to charity.

But I’m hanging on to a few, like the leaf tie. I kept almost all my Christmas ties, which include a variety of Santas. Those ties are a lot of fun, and I can only wear them for one month out of the year.

I figure "wild'' ties will come back in style eventually, just like Dad always said.

The days in Tween

This is the time of year that blurs the lines.

It’s officially fall, wants to be winter but sometimes feels like summer. It’s a time of year that can never seem to make up its mind.

I fussed at Jake the other morning for wearing shorts and a jacket to school. That appeared to be out of the dress code of practicality. Or was it?

It was one of those days when we could see our breath by the dawn’s early light, yet by afternoon we would be wiping sweat from our foreheads.

I call it “Tween” because it is stuck in Between.

The day usually starts with frost on the ground. By afternoon we are splashed with warmth. The leaves have been falling to the ground, yet up until two weeks ago I was still plucking tomatoes from my garden. The wrist alternates flipping between the heater and the air conditioner.

The high in Macon on Saturday was a near-record 78. The low last night was 35.

I’m sure we will settle into more typical weather before too long. Who knows? It might even snow this winter.

Then winter will start melting into spring, and we will be right back in Tween.

Sunday sermons

It’s not unusual for me to have two speaking engagements on the same day. There have been a number of times when I have spoken at a civic club at lunch and had a banquet that night.

A few years ago I spoke to a seniors group at Ingleside Methodist during lunch. That night, I spoke at the Howard Community Club. A man and his wife who had been at Ingleside earlier were also at Howard.

“You’re going to hear the same speech again,’’ I said, laughing. “Maybe I should just let you give it for me.’’

I enjoy speaking to groups. It’s one of my favorite parts of my job. I love getting out and meeting people and building readers.

It was most unusual to have two speeches on a Sunday, though. That's usually a day of rest for me.

In the morning, I was asked to speak to a group of adults at Christ Church during Sunday School. It was a large group and a mixture of young and old. They gather each week and discuss different issues. I had a wonderful time being with them.

Sunday night, I spoke to a men’s group at Vineville Methodist. It was a good-sized group, too. Most every seat was filled. This group was started in recent years because, as one member told me, many men are leaders in the community and leaders in their homes but they’re not always leaders in their churches.

I had a lot of fun. It was a long but enjoyable day. I didn’t get home until almost 8 p.m.

I took off my coat.

I felt like a preacher.

Tennessee Pennessee

This is no ordinary ballpoint pen.

It was once used by the great playwright, Tennessee Williams.

I keep it on a bookcase at work. It’s a great conversation piece.

It's timely to tell the story of the “pen” for a couple of reasons. Tennessee Williams has roots in Macon.

Last weekend, the Georgia Literary Festival was held in Macon. Also, one of Williams’ most famous plays, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’’ was a recent attraction at Theatre Macon.

Williams came to Macon during the summer of 1942. He stayed in a small apartment on North Arlington Place. (The house is no longer there. It's now a church parking lot.) He was related to Sidney Lanier, and his given name was Thomas Lanier Williams. His aunts always told him he got his writing genes from his Macon ancestor.

It was here Williams began his friendship with Jordan "Big Daddy" Massee. He later based his "Big Daddy" character on Massee in the play "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.'' Burl Ives was Big Daddy in both the play and movie. St. Paul's Episcopal Church, where Massee and Williams worshipped, is mentioned in the script.

Williams based another character in that Pulitzer-prize winning play on a woman from east Macon. Margaret Powell was the inspiration behind "Maggie the Cat." He was fascinated with Powell's resiliency -- always "landing on her feet" -- although she was described as being "as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof." Barbara Bel Geddes played Maggie the Cat on Broadway, and Elizabeth Taylor played the role in the movie.

A few years ago, I was giving a tour of Macon to a group during the Cherry Blossom Festival. After the tour, a man named Mike Pantera from Minnesota told me a story about meeting Tennessee Williams when he was in high school at a play in Minneapolis.

He said his high school English teacher took a group to the theater and spotted Williams in the audience. She was a huge fan, but was too nervous to ask for his autograph.

Mike, a fearless teenager, said he would get the autograph for her. He took the playbill and approached Williams, who asked him if he had pen.

Mike reached in his pocket and found a rather ordinary Papermate pen. Later, he stuck in a drawer and kept it for more than 30 years.

A few weeks after the festival, I got a letter from Mike, who now lives in Florida.

He sent me the pen as a keepsake. I call it my “Tennessee Pennessee” and now you know the story behind it.

(Update) Return of Bizarro Bird

Earlier this morning, I posted about the Bizarro Afternoon from Wednesday.

Well, just a few minutes ago, Bizarro Bird returned to the back yard. We scared it off, then it came back and landed on the roof. It is really eyeing the goldfish pond.

I did managed to get the camera and take a couple of pictures so you would know I wasn't making this up.

A few of my neighbors asked last weekend if we had seen a bald eagle in the neighborhood. I wonder if this was what they were talking about.

Bizarro afternoon

Wednesday was one of those weird afternoons. A surreal string of events made me wonder if I was dreaming.

First it was the weather. It seemed to change every five minutes. It couldn't make up its mind what kind of day it wanted to be. One moment it was overcast , gray and windy, as if it were going to rain. Then it was sunny and warmer, with nothing but blue skies.

I dropped by the house early in the afternoon. I was between appointments, and I brought some work home. As soon as I arrived, I kept hearing this beeping noise – three short beeps every couple of minutes. A list of suspects went through my head. Alarm clock? Smoke detector? Remote control?

It took a while, but I traced the noise to Jake’s bedroom. I pounced on every little gadget on his desk. It turned out to be the surge protector on his computer. I had to reset it.

Later, the power went out for no apparent reason. Electricity is one of those things we take for granted until we don’t have it.

That became most apparent when I left to go pick up Jake at school. I was parked in the garage, and we have automatic garage door openers. They work fine, except they do need electricity!!! I had to pull up the door manually.

I called Georgia Power. Twice. Couldn’t call from the portable phone, though. No juice.

The final chapter of the afternoon from the Twilight Zone came as I was leaving. I was walking out the door when I was startled by the largest bird I have ever seen in the middle of the back yard.

It was a huge crane that looked more like an ostrich. I rubbed my eyes. I thought I was hallucinating.

My first reaction was to freeze. Quiet on the set. I thought about running into the house and grabbing my camera. Nobody is going to believe this, I told myself.

Then I realized why Big Bird was in my back yard. The power was off, which meant the pump to the waterfall on my koi pond was silent. I looked at his long legs, long neck and huge beak and realized he was staking out a happy meal. We have about a dozen comet goldfish in there that would make a nice snack. The water was still, making them very visible.

So I started running after the bird to chase him away. He flew up in a tree, but all that did was give him a better view of the buffet line. I grabbed a large stick and began waving it and shouting at the top of my lungs.

I sure hope the neighbors weren’t looking out their back window.

It suddenly occurred to me that if I threw this stick, hit the bird and killed it, I could probably be arrested. With my luck, it would be on the endangered species list.

Headline in The Telegraph: Columnist jailed for killing rare bird.

So I dropped my weapon, hollered something in Spanish (in case the bird was an illegal immigrant) and it flew away.

It was about then the bizarro afternoon ended, and not a minute too soon.

Nobody would have believed it anyway.

Talking Herschel

I met with CSTV crew (L-R) Glenn Anderson, Adam Aizer and Emily Melton

Two weeks ago, I got a letter from David Seigerman, a producer with CSTV.com (College Sports Television) in New York. He told me a CSTV crew had been on the road since the beginning of football season.

Its assignment was "telling stories of the people and pageantry that makes the SEC football experience so unique.''

The three members of the crew wanted to interview me about my newspaper experiences covering Herschel Walker when he was a high school senior at Johnson County in 1979-80. I told him I had lots of "Herschel" stories.

I met with the crew - Glenn Anderson, Adam Aizer and Emily Melton - on Monday, Oct. 30 at the Georgia Sports Hall of Fame, where they also talked with curator Alan Robison.

I really enjoyed meeting these folks. It was interesting hearing their stories about life on the road. They were passing through Macon after spending the weekend in Jacksonville for the Georgia-Florida game. They left here and traveled to Herschel's hometown in Wrightsville before making their way to Knoxville to get a dose of those rabid Tennessee fans.

They loved hearing about Herschel. I had a great time reminiscing about a unique era of sports in Middle Georgia.

You can watch the video by clicking here. (Scroll down to "Herschel's Legacy,'' dated 11/01).

The devil is in the details

I got a chuckle out of this joke somebody sent me. It's most appropriate for election day, so have a good laugh on me.

A U.S. Congressman was crossing the street when he was run over by a bus. He arrived in heaven and was met by St. Peter.

"Welcome to heaven," said St. Peter. "Sorry, but we don't get too many elected officials around here, so we’re not quite sure how to act and what to do with you. We would like to go ahead and let you in, but I have orders from the Big Man to require you to spend one day in heaven and one day in hell. That way, you can decide where you want to spend eternity.’’

The politician pleaded to stay in heaven, but St. Peter would not back down.

“Sorry,’’ he said. “Rules are rules.’’

So St. Peter took the congressman to the elevator and pushed the button to the basement. When the doors of hell opened, the congressman was surprised to find himself at a plush golf course with beautiful fairways and breathtaking views.

He also saw some of his old buddies from Washington. They all rushed to greet him, slapped him on the back and remembered the good old days out on the campaign trail. After a round of golf, they all gathered at the clubhouse for steak, lobster and champagne. He also met the devil, who was friendly and a good dancer.

When it was time to go, the politician returned to heaven, where he was reunited with St. Peter for his tour of heaven. It was also a glorious place, with lots of joy and singing.

“It’s time to choose your eternity,’’ St. Peter said. “Which is it? Heaven or hell?”

“Heaven was great,’’ said the congressman. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. And the singing was glorious. But I was really surprised at how delightful it was in hell. That golf course was terrific. All my fellow politicians are there. I know I could be happy in hell.’’

St. Peter nodded, pushed the buttons on the elevator and took him back to hell. When the doors opened, there was no golf course to be found and no fancy meal in the dining room. The land was barren, and there was trash everywhere. His friends were on the back of a garbage truck, picking up the mounds of trash piled high on the side of the road.

The devil came over with the welcome wagon.

“What happened?” said the congressman. “Yesterday was one of the most delightful days of my life. Everything was perfect. We played golf, ate and drank and danced.''

The devil smiled.

“Yesterday we were campaigning,’’ he said. “Today you voted.’’

If elected, I will serve

I’ve never had any real aspirations to run for political office. I’ve never imagined myself as a senator or mayor. No real ambition to sit in an oval office or have my own parking space at the Capitol.

I don’t know if I could handle all the mud-slinging of the campaign season. Someone once told me I was too honest to be a politician.

At least one person out there started a campaign for me. In the 2002 election, I did receive one write-in vote for lieutenant governor. That left me only 1,037,682 votes shy of Mark Taylor, but who's counting?

On a recent morning on my way to work, I was traveling east on Riverside Drive toward downtown. I crossed the bridge that goes over I-75, then up the hill by Riverside Cemetery. I noticed a giant billboard at the corner of Madison Street.

In big letters it read: Elect GRIS

Actually, it read "Elect Grist.'' Rebecca Liles Grist is running for civil court judge and chief magistrate of Bibb County.

But the right part of the sign was briefly obstructed from my view, so I had at least a three-second moment of revelation.

Oh, well,. It was fun while it lasted.