Playing favorites???

Growing up, my family did not have the extra money to buy cokes, candy bars, or snacks. It was spent on more important things like meat (thank God I am not a vegetarian). If I wanted a snack or a coke, I went across the street to Grammy’s house. Since I was the favorite grandchild, she ALWAYS had a “secret stash” of candy bars for me in the third canister by the sink. I would go over for a visit, grab a coke, check out my secret stash, and sit down at her table. Nobody else ever knew about my Honey Hole! One day, I went over for a sweet-tooth induced visit and jumped headfirst into the third canister. To my surprise, I pulled out a watermelon hard candy…my little brother’s favorite!!! “Grammy, what is this doing in here?” “Oh no, I put them in the wrong spot.” I found my Snickers & Zero bars in the 1^st canister, but not before I found stashes of Whoppers, M&M’s, Werther’s, and Reece’s Pieces in the others… Talk about getting your eyes opened…I thought I was the favorite. Come to find out, we were all her favorites. As you go through life, remember that God plays favorites…and we are all God’s favorite. That should level the playing field a little bit. My Grammy made a big deal out of each of us…God wants to do the same. Shouldn’t we make a big deal out of Him in return? Remember that life is not about the gift…it’s about the Giver. Alan

Don’t Pet the Fish!

May 27, 1995…Our wedding day. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. A day to begin our new life together. A day full of hope and love. A day filled with dreams. A day to spend thinking about the Honeymoon. A day to get a visit from Murphy Slaw. (murphy’s law)

Earlier in the day, my buddies and I were playing a game of pool football. Without giving you a “play-by-play,” I caught a pass and slammed my hand into the side of the pool. I could have hurt any one of my ten fingers. Ol’ Murph made sure that the finger I bloodied and jammed was the same one that would have a ring slipped on it later that night. My darling wife to be did not appreciate the flesh wound that she got to see for the first time at the altar. (I did not appreciate how she tried to jam the ring on my finger either.)

May 28, 1995…Destination-Grand Cayman Island…Travel Agent—Murphy Slaw. Our travel Agent told us that our flight would leave D/FW at 10:00am. Make sure to be there early she said. We were. We took the Hyatt shuttle and got to the terminal at 8:05 to check in and look at the shops. The attendant, God bless her, said, “Wow! It’s a good thing that your stewardess is late, or else you would have missed your flight.” Departure-10:00 am Pacific. Boarding the plane proved to be another little example of Murphy Slaw. I had a seat in the front of the jet. She had a seat at the back. With a little begging and a few sweet souls, my wife and I were able to hold hands across the aisle.

May 28, 1995…Georgetown, Grand Cayman Island. We arrived at Spanish Bay Reef Resort just in time for a real island lunch. We checked into our room and soon found out that the A/C did not work. Now, there are many things I can live without, but A/C is not one of them. We were told to go enjoy the buffet while someone looked at the A/C. We sat down just as they were closing. They were serving my favorite—“fin & bone soup and fish & scrambled egg casserole.”

Bright Spot #1…We got a free upgrade to a beachfront bungalow. The room was awesome.

Bright Spot #2… We unpacked and headed to the lagoon for our first snorkel trip. Bright Spot #3…Dinner-Prime Rib.

May 29-June 1, 1995…The rest of the story. One night, I felt something gently caressing my chest. I excitedly thought it was my wife, but I soon realized this was no person. I rolled over, and turned on the lamp. As soon as the room was bathed in light, big ants scurried from the ceiling beams to a hole in the corner of the room. While the staff sprayed our room for bugs, we slept in a hammock in the gazebo by the beach. While in the hammock, we woke up to the sound of barking dogs in the distance. The barking came closer. Soon, something furry and as big as a watermelon ran under our hammock-I’m NOT making this up-with both dogs chasing it, under our hammock. We asked a worker about it, and he said, “Probably just an island rat, mon.” The next morning, we saw an island rat “road kill” as we rode the resort’s 1950’s style bicycles to a place called Hell, Grand Cayman. (We literally went to Hell and back on our honeymoon.) Pretty cool place with a lot of unusual rock formations. When we got there, we were pretty thirsty after the bike ride. Funny how they didn’t have any water fountains in Hell. Just Cokes for $3 a can. I’m pretty tight with money, so I decided since we could buy three2-liters for that, we would just wait. Apparently, we were not the first tourists with that mindset, because the owner of the “gift shop from Hell” asked us if we would like some almonds right off the tree. They were free, so we ate them while we walked around the park. In the blink of an eye, $3 was a bargain price for a Coke.

My wife and I both got seasick on a sunset cruise. We spent a small fortune on a seafood dinner in town because I didn’t realize that the dollar amounts were marked in Caymanian currency. On the way to the restaurant, we drove into a field and stopped just short of a cow. The cow didn’t even move. She just stood there with that “What’s up, mon” look on her face. Don’t blame me. I had to drive on the wrong side of the road and shift with my left hand.

On several trips to the reef and Stingray City, I got to pet parrotfish and angelfish, and I got to hold a stingray—they do not hurt you unless you step on them. While snorkeling at the lagoon, I saw the coolest little fish buried up to its eyes in the sand. I ought to take a minute to tell you that I have a problem with petting things. If I saw an animal in the woods, I always wanted to pet it. Rabbit, squirrel, coon. I’ve always loved animals, and I always thought they loved me. Anyway, this little fish was in dire need of a little attention. I dove down and got face to face with my new buddy. When my finger was inches away from its “nose,” it transformed from cute little Nemo into Jurassic Shark. Spines sprouted from every part of its body. It tripled in size, and I almost sucked down a gallon of water through my snorkel. At the dive shop, there was a poster of the fish a diver might encounter. I found him…Scorpionfish—Danger. Poisonous to the touch. At a small zoo, called the Turtle Farm, my wife and I tried to pet some exotic guinea pig/beaver/nutria looking critters. They bit us.

July 4,1995…Pensacola Beach, Florida. Stand back, everyone. I’m a professional. After returning from our honeymoon, we went to Pensacola to visit some of my wife’s family. After my trip to Stingray City, Grand Cayman, I felt like my expertise on handling “dangerous creatures” would really impress the onlookers at the beach at this moment. There was a small stingray in the shallow water, and I was going to pick it up out of the water to show her family how cool I was. (This was the first time many of them had ever met me.) The stingray DID look a little different, but a stingray is a stingray. I reached down, picked it up, and quickly threw the beast towards Cuba. It shocked me. I don’t mean that it surprised me. I mean it shocked me with electricity. I tried to play it cool when her family asked what happened. I just said that it doesn’t take me long to look at a stingray. At a local dive shop, there was a poster of the fish a diver might encounter. I found Him…Torpedo—Danger. Emits a strong electric shock when bothered.

Our honeymoon was the most amazing vacation I’ve ever had. So many things went wrong, but that made the whole thing that much more memorable.

Life is not supposed to work out the way we plan. Life’s more fun when we make up the rules as we go along. No matter what the situation is or how bad it seems, there are those so much worse off than we are.

People are a funny species. We do really stupid things. Find the good in them. Tires are going to go flat. Thank God it’s just an inconvenience and nothing more. Your wife’s battery is going to go dead. Thank God that you are her knight in shining armor and the one she calls to come to the rescue. Your children are going to have nightmares and take up your side of the bed. Thank God for your children. Period.

Be flexible. Take life as it comes. Love the people around you and SHOW them that you do. Don’t be afraid to mess up. Don’t be too proud to laugh at yourself. Just know that Cokes ain’t cheap in Hell, and, most importantly…Don’t pet the fish!

Life ain’t about the $$$…it’s about the stories you can tell.

AlanWeihausen

There’s an old saying:  “Two’s company, but three’s a crowd.”  There are just some times when two is the magic number, and three is just plain wrong.  When you go to the store, many of the things you buy come in two’s.  Twix.  One for now…One for later.  Okay, let’s be realistic.  You’re going to eat both of them now.  What do you do?  You buy two packages.  As good as that first cup of coffee is we still go back for a second cup.  When you buy boots, you usually buy two.  Why?  Because God gave us two feet.  He knew what he was doing.  By design, we have two eyes, ears, arms, hands, thumbs, and lungs.  Texas Two Step with three feet?  Yeah, right!  Many of our favorite things also come in two’s.  Rod and reel…burger and fries…bow and arrow…meat and potatoes…cookies and milk…peanut butter and jelly…Brooks and Dunn…buy one, get one free.           

On the other hand, three of anything is many times unnecessary, and sometimes, frustrating.  We even use the number three to describe undesirable traits.  “That boy’s as useless as a third… That’s as “unusual” as a three-dollar bill… The three stooges.”   A child’s first instrument of torture is a tricycle.  After falling many times, parents finally get smart and get a bicycle.  Three-wheelers?  Yeah, those are safe!  In football, 4^th & 1 has caused many sleepless nights for many coaches (the “1” of course is three feet).  Triple-bogeys, love triangles, three strikes and your out, three up and three down.  “Three” has been the downfall of many men, but nowhere is this more evident than in a bass boat.           

My life revolves around the four seasons: football, baseball, hunting, and fishing.  I am the guy that can fish all day, not catch anything, and still be ready to do it all again the next day.  I grew up fishing with a Zebco 33 combo on our tanks back home.  Now those fish were easy!  I never fished from a boat until I met Jim Marsh.  Jim is a retired football coach, and loves fishing and hunting as much as I do.  Jim has all the cool toys, and many of the toys I now use are because of him.  With my enthusiasm and his equipment, we were a match made in heaven.  I should have known early on that luck would not be on our side.  His wife told me too many stories of broken bones, joints made of titanium, and heart trouble.  We have had some amazing trips in pursuit of a variety of game, but they are probably memorable, not because of the trophies, but because of the bad luck that seemed to find us.  We would probably have more success and fewer headaches if it was just the two of us, but we have a third partner, Murphy Slaw. (See the first line of the story.)

“Two’s company, but three’s a crowd.” Jim fishes from the front of the boat.  I fish from the back.  Murphy Slaw fishes wherever he wants to.  Sometimes, he’s with Jim.  Sometimes, he’s with me.  Sometimes, he’s back at the truck tearing something up.  We never know when he’s going to show up, but he always does at the worst possible time.           

 Jim and I take every precaution to plan trips without telling ol’ Murph, but he always finds out.   Our very first trip was a trip to Lake Whitney to hunt quail and fish for bass.  It was supposed to be my first real fishing trip, and I was pumped.  I don’t remember picking him up, but Murphy was riding shotgun.  I left early because it was foggy.  It was thicker than sawmill gravy, and it was hard to see.  I was new to the area, so I asked a “friend” for a shortcut the day before.  I took the wrong County Road and came out on HWY 84, 15 miles east of where I started and still 40 miles south of where I needed to be.  I hate being late, and I could almost hear Murphy laughing at me.  I get back on the right road and try to make up ground.  I don’t think that my ’81 Chevy pickup was made for wet, curvy roads, but man, it could plow through barbed wire like it was nothing.    I never made it to the lake that day.  Instead, I spent all day fixing fence, and wouldn’t you know it, Murphy Slaw was nowhere to be found when it came time to work.                       

I guess that I am blessed in the fact that I can take the bad with good.  I am not a preacher.  I can’t quote scripture off the top of my head.  More importantly, there are times when I fall short on my duties as a man, but I’m trying.  I’m trying to be a dutiful son, a loving husband, and a good father.  I’m trying to slow down and take things in stride.  I’m trying to find the positive, even in the bad.

Jim and I have had many more adventures with Murphy Slaw, and I’m sure there are many more to come.  I can’t wait to tell you about them.  I can’t wait to tell you about the good trips.  We definitely do not take them for granted.   Every day–ordinary or special, dull or exciting, good or bad—gives us the chance to know God.  Every day gives us the chance to be better men.  Every day has the potential for being the “Greatest of Days.”                                                                               

 Life ain’t about $$$…it’s about the stories you can tell.

Alan Weihausen

alan_oso@yahoo.com