Joy to the world

Loving Father, help us remember the birth of Jesus that we may share in the song of the angels, the gladness of the shepherds and the worship of the wise men.

Close the door of hate and open the door of love all over the world. Let kindness come with every gift and good desires with every greeting. Deliver us from evil by the blessing which Christ brings, and teach us to be merry with clear hearts.

May the Christmas morning make us happy to be Thy children, and the Christmas evening bring us to our beds with grateful thoughts, forgiving and forgiven, for Jesus’ sake.

Amen.

-- Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

Posts of Christmas Past (Part V)

I love fruit. I am fond of cake. So I should love fruitcake, right?

Not exactly.

I run at the sight of it. I hide at the mention of it. If someone gives me a fruitcake, I seriously believe they do not like me.

Think of your favorite restaurant. Does it have fruitcake on the menu? I doubt it. Have you ever known of an inmate on death row who requested a slice of fruitcake for his final meal before execution? Probably not. Come to think of it, just having to eat it should be considered a form of capital punishment.

There used to be a T-shirt that read: “Puh-lease, not a fruitcake.’’ Songs have been written and blogs have been formed bemoaning the agony of fruitcake.

A book by Diane Lewis, is called “50 Ways to Recycle Fruitcake.’’ Among the suggestions are door stops, paperweights, manhole covers and hockey pucks.

Check out the “I hate fruitcake hate page.”

Posts of Christmas Past (Part IV)

Today is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.

It is a celebration of the start of the new solar year. The Romans referred to it as Dies Natalis Invicti Solis, or the birthday of the unconquered sun. It is the point when the sun is at its lowest arc in the sky.

It also marks the beginning of winter. The sun will get up late and go to bed early. Like others, I expect I will be going to work in the dark and going home in the dark.

Sunrise is officically at 7:33 a.m. Sunset will be at 5:32 a.m. That means 9 hours and 59 minutes of daylight. So, if I go home tonight and say to my wife: "Gee, it has been a long day!" I would be stretching it.

It could be rather depressing, but I’ve always looked at it this way: Tomorrow, the days will start getting longer again.

Today is also my sister Susie’s birthday. She has always been proud of sharing her birthday with the winter solstice. In fact, she even uses the nickname “winsolstice” as part of her e-mail address.

Growing up, we usually celebrated her birthday on Dec. 1 because her “real” birthday was so close to Christmas. I still joke around with her and tell her “happy birthday” on the first day of December.

Oh, well. I’ve probably told you much more about winter solstice (and Susie’s birthday) than you’ll ever want to know. Have a good one.

Gris

Posts of Christmas Past (Part III)

“Having stuffed our burlap sacks with enough greenery and crimson to garland a dozen windows, we set about choosing a tree. “It should be,’’ muses my friend, “twice as tall as a boy. So a boy can’t steal the star.’’ – From “A Christmas Memory.’’ Truman Capote.

Two weeks ago, went drove out to the Farmer’s Market and bought a Christmas tree. It is now in our front window. It is beautiful.

OK, I know I could save thousands of dollars in my lifetime if I just went ahead and bought an artificial tree. But we’re just one of those families who believe there is nothing like having a “live” tree in the house at Christmas.

Even I can smell it. And I have no sense of smell.

For the past 10 years or so, we’ve been buying Frazier firs that come out of Virginia and North Carolina. Last year and the year before, we paid two people we know to go up and “hand-pick” the trees for us. That was neat.

We’ve tried them all over the years. For several years we went out to the local tree farms and cut our own. That was an adventure, especially when the boys were younger. I remember going up to Smarr one Sunday afternoon in “search of the perfect tree.’’

We kept racing from hill to hill, thinking we had spotted it. It was so cold and windy, we finally settled on one. Then we got it home and it was crooked!

Our new tree is decorated. Now, if we can only get some presents under it!

Posts of Christmas Past (Part II)

(Photo courtesy of Macy's)

I feel sorry for the younger generation. Sure, it has it easier in so many ways. Cell phones. The Internet. GPS.

But, in so many ways, it has been deprived.

Like riding the Pink Pig.

OK, I know you can still ride the Pink Pig at Lenox Square in Atlanta.

But it’s just not the same. There was something magic about climbing aboard Percival and Priscilla as children of the 1950s and '60s.

Once upon a time, riding the Pink Pig at Rich’s in downtown Atlanta was considered a prerequisite for Christmas. It circled above the toy department on a monorail. You could look down on all those aisles of baby dolls and toy trains.

Now, Rich’s is gone. The Pink Pig is still around, and thousands of folks still go out to Lenox Square and squeeze inside like sardines to try and re-capture some of that magic.

Read more about the Pink Pig .
Also read about it here.

Posts of Christmas Past (Part I)

In the black and white photograph, I am 8 months old. I am looking up at a jolly old man with white hair and a beard.

I cannot tell him what I want him to leave me under the tree because I have not started talking. Now, I only wish I remember what thoughts were going through my head.

It was my very first Christmas. Santa Claus brought me red wagon.

He knew what I wanted. Always did.

By the next year, I am joined by my sister, Gay, on Santa’s lap. She is a baby. I am crying, ready to tear out out of there. Over the next few years, we are joined by my other sisters, Susie and Sally, and then finally by my brother, Charles. There were so many of you can’t even see Santa in some of the pictures – just part of his head or beard or arm.

The Santas changed from year to year as we moved around. Some were men who dressed as Santa Claus at the old Rich’s in downtown Atlanta. We went there almost every year to shop and ride the Pink Pig.

Others were just department store Santas who passed through our lives, stopping just long enough for us to have the permanent memory of a photograph with them.

Some are round and jolly. Some even had white hair and real beards. I do remember one had thick glasses with black frames. Some were men who took their job to heart. Others men just looking for a way to make a few extra bucks during the holidays.

They all meant something to us. One of the true joys of the season is written on the faces of children on Christmas morning.

I once read the three stages of a man’s life are:

1. He believes in Santa Claus.
2. He does not believe in Santa Claus.
3. He is Santa Claus.

Macon's own supermodel

A number of readers have followed the career of Macon’s own supermodel, Sabrina Sikora. Her success has been a point of pride in the community. She is a graduate of Central High School and a former Miss Macon. She also was queen of the Cherry Blossom Festival.

Sabrina’s career continues to reach great heights, and I rely on her mother, Laurie, to keep me posted because Sabrina stays so incredibly busy. The latest news is that Sabrina is pictured again in the January issue of Cosmopolitan magazine.

“If you flip to the centerfold of the Annual Bedside Astrologer's Guide insert, you'll see a familiar blonde with a dazzling smile,'' said Laurie. “She also has several other shots in the guide beside this. This is one centerfold I don't mind!!!''

The wizard of ahs

We went to see “The Wizard of Oz” at Macon Little Theater last night. So, if you catch me humming, “Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead” all day today, you’ll understand why.

It was an enjoyable show, and it was even more special because I knew so many people in the fun-filled production. There are 80 in the cast, if you count Toto, too. More than half of them are adorable kids.

If there has been one movie that I would consider the soundtrack of my life, it would be “The Wizard of Oz.’’ It has stayed with me the longest. It is part of my childhood I have never let go, nor do I ever want to let go.

It was interesting to hear the reaction to so many people in the audience. Some of them sang right along with the familiar tunes. You could hear them repeating the lines from the script, right along with the characters.

A few years ago, we took a trip to Washington, D.C. Of all the thousands of exhibits I saw at the Smithsonian, one of the displays I remember the most was the ruby slippers worn by Judy Garland in the movie.

In my study at home, I have a large framed print with the Scarecrow, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion and Dorothy. It is called “All I really need to know I learned from The Wizard of Oz.’’ There are 11 life lessons listed.

• Imagination can take you anywhere, even over the rainbow.
• Sometimes you have to leave home to find it.
• Follow the Yellow Brick Road – but always be ready for a detour.
• Faith, hope and love can work wonders, but ruby slippers can’t hurt either.
• When friends stick together, they can work miracles.
• Having the courage to ask for what you want is half the battle.
• Hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable.
• The grass is always greener on the other side of the rainbow.
• All you need is right there inside you.
• Keep home in your heart and you can always return to it.
• When you go out into the world, remember: Stand up for yourself, but always be kind to the little guys.
  
  

That's not my job

The four worst words in the workplace dictionary are:

That’s Not My Job!

How many times do we experience that kind of attitude? Happens all the time.

We pick up the phone to contact a company, jump through all the hoops, push all the numbers and tiptoe through the maze of instructions. Then we finally hear a human voice, and it’s often the wrong one.

There’s usually some lame explanation.

That’s Not My Job.

How many times do we walk into one of those super-sized box stores, try to find someone to help or at least answer a question and get deflected by the response?

That’s Not My Department.

I don’t know whether it’s laziness or indifference, but it’s killing the American workplace.

Why should I have to do it? Somebody else is supposed to be responsible for that.

My friend, Joe Mac, sent me the above photo. I don’t know who took it or where it came from. Wouldn't it have taken less effort to move the limb rather than go around it?

A picture is worth a thousand words.

In a perfect world

"If you cannot be a poet, be the poem." -- David Carradine

In a perfect world …

• Everybody would fine true love.
• Husbands and wives would always agree on where to set the thermostat.
• Lewis Grizzard would still be around to make us laugh.
• We would sing “Amazing Grace” in church every Sunday. And somebody would always join.
• Children would do their homework without being told. And never complain about it.
• Everyone would have bumper stickers that read: “How’s My Driving?’’ There would be a toll-free phone number to call and report the idiots.
• We could walk around with smiles on our faces without people thinking we are up to something.
• We would have time to read every book we want to read.
• Low sodium and low fat would not be words in our vocabulary.
• Law enforcement officials would carry around one bullet – just like Barney Fife – and never have to use it.
• Companies would be required to have “live” people answering the telephone.
• Life would be a blog.

Why some people shop on-line

I read somewhere that holiday spending on-line is 25 percent more than it was at this time last year. Last Monday was called Cyber Monday because holiday sales on the Internet increased by a whopping 26 percent to a record $647 million. It was the single biggest online shopping day in history.

While there is something to be said for the experience of trudging from store to store in search of a Christmas gift for Aunt Jane -- and then being able to hold it in your hands -- I am becoming more and more a convert to on-line shopping in general.

This became more apparent to me when I was looking for a holster for my cell phone. OK, I know cell phone holsters are kind of geeky -- at least thats why my kids tell me -- but I need a new one. Mine broke a few weeks ago when I sat down at a restaurant and it caught the arm of the chair.

I went to the store where I bought my cell phone. Guess what? They didn’t have it in stock. They sent me to another store across town. Guess what? They didn’t have it, either. They no longer carry it.

This irked me because I signed up with this particular cell phone provider. They sold me the phone, locked me into a two-year service agreement without an upgrade, then chose to no longer carry the accessories because newer models have now taken its place.

I did however, find the holster on-line with just a few computer key strokes. And at an unbelievably low price! Yes, I know I will have to pay shipping, but I don’t have to pay sales tax, so it almost evens out.

Plus, they had it. If merchants want to complain about the increase of on-line shopping, they should learn to do a better job of keeping merchandise in stock and available.

Grammy ride comes to an end

OK, so I’m not going to win a Grammy.

They announced the final nominees for the awards on Thursday, and my name is not on the list.
But I’ve been asked every day – several times a day – for the past few weeks when I would know.

I know now.

No Grammy for me.

That’s no shocker for anybody. I’m not disappointed. I’m just thrilled to have even been in the mix. If you missed my column about it, here is the link for “The Grammy of my dreams.”

As many of you know, I was nominated for the Grammy my local musician/producer Joey Stuckey, who was the brainchild behind my audio book, “Gris & That,’’ a collection of 16 of my favorite columns I read in Joey’s studio on Third Street.

Joey is a voting member in the Grammys. When he and his wife, Jennifer, told me several months ago “Gris & That” had been nominated in the “spoken word” category, I was excited. But I didn’t allow myself to get too excited.

After all, I told myself, there were probably thousands of entries. And I was trying to draw the distinction between having my audio book submitted and actually being “nominated.’’

Then, a few weeks ago, the list had been pared from almost 2,000 to the final 103. My name was on that list!!! On the ballot, I was just two named below Garrison Keillor. I was in the company of folks like Jimmy Carter, Tim Russert, Anderson Cooper, Amy Tan and Frank McCourt.

The "Spoken Word" category includes a wide range of genres. There is everything from audio books to radio commentary, drama, comedy and even speeches.

When the nominees were announced Thursday, the list was down from 103 to five. Complete list is here.

The final cute in my category:

• I Shouldn't Even Be Doing This! -- Bob Newhart
• New Rules — Polite Musings From A Timid Observer -- Bill Maher
• Our Endangered Values: America's Moral Crisis -- Jimmy Carter
• The Truth (With Jokes) -- Al Franken
• Ossie And Ruby: In This Life Together - Ossie Davis & Ruby Dee

So, you see, Garrison Keillor did make it, either.

My wife, Delinda -- besides being disappointed about not getting to buy a new dress for the Grammy awards in February and getting to sit next to Alan Jackson -- is most disgusted that Al Franken made the list ahead of me. But that's a story for another day.

Thanks for everybody’s support during these last few weeks and months. It has been fun for me, and I believe it’s been fun for you, too.

For more information about the almost-made-the-final-cut “Gris & That’’ (it would make a great Christmas gift if I might say so myself) here is the link.

Cold weather is coming, and I hate it

Cold weather is coming.

I hate cold weather.

Give me 98 degrees and dripping sweat, any day. Send me some of that suffocating Macon heat. Bring it on.

I hate cold weather.

Frozen fingers and toes are not something I cherish. I’ve never been fond of my extremities feeling like popsicles.

I hate cold weather.

Arctic blasts, like the one due to arrive in Middle Georgia today, do nothing for me. Tell them to stay away. This is the South. We’re not supposed to be frigid at latitude 32.85 North and longitude 83.68 West.

I hate cold weather.

I’m not big on frost and seeing my breath. I don’t like it when the ground is hard and the cold wind cuts right through my skin. I’m not fond of chattering teeth and watery eyes.

I hate cold weather.

OK, a little snow every once and a while is exciting. Go ahead and dream of a White Christmas. That would be fun. Just don’t dump any of sleet and icy roads into the mix. Don’t give me any frozen precipitation that is going to make our sissy little pine trees snap and fall across the power lines. I prefer to have electricity so I can turn on my electric blanket at bedtime.

I hate cold weather.

Flannel pajamas. Longjohns. A wool overcoat. Mittens. They’re all nice, but I prefer not to have to use them unless absolutely necessary.

I hate cold weather.

If I wanted sub-freezing temperatures I would live in Embarrass, Minn. (Yes, it really does exist.) The temperature there dipped to 54-below in January 2005 and that wasn’t even the record, which was 57-below on Ground Hog’s Day in 1996.

I hate cold weather.

I don’t like having to use chapstick and hand warmers. It’s not much fun getting up when it’s dark and coming in the dark.

I hate cold weather.

And when I hear people say they love cold weather, my only response is this:

I hate cold weather.

OK, class, what did you learn?

My Writing for the Mass Media class at Georgia College & State University

For the past four months, I have taught a mass communications class at Georgia College & State University in Milledgeville. It is an entry level journalism course – Writing for the Mass Media. I have had 15 students, mostly sophomores, from all over the state – Stone Mountain, Augusta, Lawrenceville, Warner Robins, Savannah and several other cities.

I appreciate these students letting me learn on them in my first experience teaching in the college classroom. I also appreciate them calling me “Professor Grisamore” this semester. I am not a professor, of course, but it made me sound so distinguished. We laughed a lot about that.

Tuesday was our last class. I had them turn in their final exam. It was not your typical final. I did not make them stay up all night cramming information into their heads and racing against the clock to retrieve information they won’t remember five weeks from now, much less five months of five years.

Instead, I asked them to write an 750-1,000 word essay on a simple, but comprehensive question.

What did you learn in this class?

I told them I didn’t want them to go back in the book and rewind and replay every chapter. I did not ask them the elements of a news story, anything about the inverted pyramid, re-define plagiarism or the merits of multicultural sensitivity.

What did you learn? What will stick to your skin? What will you carry with you like a compass? How did it all make you feel?

Judging from what I have already read from their essays, they get it. They learned. That's what teaching is all about.

I have worked hard with them. I have given them assignments, had them write news stories, then got out my red pen and made each page bleed until they got it right. As John Irving once said, writing is an act of revision.

I have shared stories about my job and what makes it most exciting profession in the world because it changes every day. You never know what the next sunrise will bring. And everybody has a story to tell.

In a way, it was a lot like coaching one of my Little League teams a few years ago. These young people come to you an eager bundle of raw energy. You teach them the fundamentals -- how to hit, throw and run the bases. You’ve got to make it fun for them. The joy is watching them grow, have some success and develop a passion for it.

They started out in August as students of MSCM 2204/03.

They now finish as students of the world.

I told them to stay in touch. I still stay in contact with some of my old journalism professors. I call them, write them. We go have coffee.

And I can look into their eyes and see enormous satisfaction in my career. After all, the success of a former student is a direct reflection on them. It is why they chose to teach.

I expect I will have the same measure of pride with these students.


I got them into the habit of reading the newspaper!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Getting a handle on panhandling

Photo by Woody Marshall/The Telegraph

City council is scheduled to vote on the anti-panhandling ordinance tonight, and it could be one of the most important pieces of legislation in the past several years.

Hopefully, council will pass it without watering it down. Sure, some amendments and tweaking may be necessary, but the law will go along way toward making downtown a safer and more vibrant environment for everyone.

We can pour time, resources and money into revitalizing our downtown. But, if people are frightened to get out of their cars, what good will it do?

Because I work downtown – shop, dine, go to the theater and attend church downtown, it’s important to me. Macon has a serious problem with folks who harass others for money. There have been times when I’ve been approached two or three times while walking four blocks to lunch.

I know there are homeless people and others who need help. But most of the folks I encounter are con artists, drunks and criminals.

How do I know that? I hear some of the same stories from the same people over and over again. My car broke down. My baby needs food. I am stranded and need money for a bus ticket. They want a cup of coffee.

My family and I went to New York City a few weeks ago, and I never thought I would say something like this – I felt safer on the streets of New York than I did in Macon. Why? In New York, there are strict laws against panhandling. Two, the streets are full of people. Macon is no New York, but I can imagine a los more folks on the streets if we have tighter measures against panhandlers.

I’ve written about panhandling on many occasions. I’m not alone in saying it is a great moral struggle. I do want to help people. But I want to help the people who need help, I want to believe them, but because so many of them are deceitful, I usually have an excuse prepared. Like others, I am suspicious.

I once suggested Macon follow the lead of such cities as Athens and Nashville, which put up meters very similar to parking meters. In Athens, the sign on the meter reads: "A donation here will provide help for the homeless. Please do not give cash to panhandlers.''

Money collected from the meters is distributed to social service agencies, which use it to assist those in need. It's a system that can work. It's good for the people who need help. It's good for the agencies that serve them. And it's good for people like myself, who want to give but don't always know the best way how.

I love a parade

The annual Warner Robins Christmas parade had some 170 participants

I went to two parades on Saturday. I not only attended them, I participated in them.

There was quite a contrast, too. Saturday morning, I was in Warner Robins for the largest Christmas parade in Middle Georgia. That afternoon, I was in Bolingbroke for one of the smallest.

The 47th annual Warner Robins Parade was special, as always. And it just kept coming and coming, with some 170 participants. It lasted an hour and 45 minutes, but it was the most well-organized parade I’ve ever seen. The execution was almost flawless. JaLynn Hudnall headed up the parade committee this year, and did an excellent job. The theme this year was "Christmas Traditions.''

I had the opportunity to do live commentary of the parade on WNNG-AM radio with Hank Brigmond and Joe Bishop, along with Joyce Hutcherson, the director of the Warner Robis Senior Citizens Center. It was a lot of fun – and wearing those headphones helped keep my ears warm!

By the time the Bolingbroke parade started at 3, it had warmed up. This is always one of my favorite Christmas events, and I was so disappointed when I had to miss last year.

It’s very small and very hometown but it's very appealing and the crowds are always huge. There are only a few large floats. Most of what you see is church groups, boy scout troops and people who just fall in line to be in the parade. You’ll see trucks and wagons. There were even a few children on tricycles.

I was one of the judges for the floats, along with Tiffany Andrews, the executive director of the Forsyth-Monroe County Chamber of Commerce. Afterward, wegot to ride in the parade. Steve Stokes , the sales operations manager at Riverside Ford, drove us in a Mustang convertible, so that was pretty cool.

Many thanks to Vicki Smith for her hard work organizing the parade and asking me to be a part of it, since I live in LB – Lower Bolingbroke.

There were six other parades in Middle Georgia this past weekend. Don't forget the 44th annual Macon Jaycees Christmas Parade on Sunday in Macon.

Connie Ham's Middle Georgia Realty had winning float in Bolingbroke parade

Up early on the radio

Kenny Burgamy and Ed Grisamore in WMAC-AM studio (photo by Brother Neal)

If you were up early this morning, and had one ear on the radio, you might have heard me on the “Kenny B and Jami G Show” on WMAC-AM 940. I was on for about 10 minutes starting at 7:38 a.m.

Jami had the morning off, so it was just me and Kenny. Kenny Burgamy has been a very good friend for almost 20 years. I was on the show to talk about my audio book, “Gris & That,’’ which has been nominated for a Grammy Award in the “Spoken Word” category.

I also ran into Laura Starling in the hallway, and she whisked me into the studio at WDEN after I got through talking with Kenny. Laura and Vance Shepherd, the Early Mornin' Crew, also talked to me about the audiobook. It was a lot of fun.

For those of you who are curious about the status of the Grammy nomination, we should know something in the next couple of weeks. I have made it from a list of almost 2,000 nominations to 103. There will be one more cut to a final list.

If, by some miracle, I make it to that next step, I will get to go to the Grammy Awards in Los Angeles in February. That would be so cool.