"Beware of a man with manners." - Miss Eudora Welty
"... They love secrecy even when there's no need for secrecy." - Donna Tartt

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

“Comets Make Me Vomit” and Other Things I Learned in Little League (1970’s Grenada, MS Style) That My Sons Don't Learn in Today’s DC Soccer League

Little League Baseball in Grenada, MS, 1970’s:

Baseball ruled in little league sports back in Grenada of the 1970’s. Once a year we all showed up at the high school stadium for the “Punt, Pass and Kick” competition but in little league it was baseball.

Coach Wayne Carson ran the little league program for years and years. We sold Drix as the annual fundraiser for the little league… Drix was some kind of cleaning detergent and every household in Grenada would have several bottles due to the salesmanship of the town’s first graders.

The season always kicked off with a hotdog supper at the ball field. I believe each hot dog was a dime. The bleachers would be full of hot dog eating kids with ketchup stained shirts and mouths.
I was on the Cubs and we were sponsored by Piggly Wiggly… it was right there on the back of our black with white sleeved t-shirts.

This wasn’t T-ball. We had pitchers, played a full 7 innings with no maximum run rules. So, the score might end up being 32 – 28 and none of us first graders ever really hit the ball… four balls and a walk… over and over and over.

Our coaches were a few years older… junior high guys. And I will not name any coaches in order to protect any who may be innocent of what I’m about to say. These guys were out for blood. They wanted to win. They’d throw score books in the dugout, fight with the umpire and encourage us to lean into the ball… as in lean in and get hit and take a base!

I always wanted to be a coach after that.

Our parents and siblings would all attend. We played mainly on the baseball field between the high school football field and Jones Road. Today, the massive Grenada High School Band Hall sits where this legendary field of dreams once belonged.

In reality, I didn’t care much for playing. It was so bad that my parents had to promise me a hamburger and fries after each game to make me participate. After every game we’d head over to a restaurant called Rudolph’s just down from the Monte Cristo on highway 51.

But in the rear view mirror these games were the stuff of legend. We’d play teams like the Comets. Stephen Cox was their star pitcher… it’s easy to remember because he was so tall, even then.

We’d sit in the dugout chanting “Comets make me vomit.” We’d hustle onto the field and with each batter chant “nanananananananana swing!!!” And this would go on for 7 innings while each player walked.

Our parents would yell and cheer. Dean Morgan’s dad, Jerry, would always lean on the fence near where we would warm up in the batter’s box. He’d smile and offer advice… “keep your eye on the ball… swing level… don’t listen to the hind catcher.” It was important to not listen to the hind catcher because he’d be telling each batter how terrible there were.

We practiced every Saturday morning. We kept score, maintained the win-loss record and had season champions. We competed.


Little League Soccer, Washington, DC, 2008:

This past Saturday my first grader played in his third soccer game of his first season of league play. He plays on the Cougars from Murch School. They were playing the Power Rangers… school unknown (to me, anyway.)

He has a wonderful coach who is always very happy. It’s a cheerful sort of endeavor.

They play an hour, no one really keeps score and there is no accounting of wins and losses.

I’m inclined to scream “hit somebody” at various stressful moments of the game. I do know hitting is discouraged in soccer, but it just comes out. When I scream the other parents will look at me. The coach will look at me.

In fact, it’s been shared with me that yelling and cheering at little league soccer is largely discouraged. The young co-ed team is focused on developing their motor skills and concentration skills… this is the logic, I think.

I’d hate to see Jerry Morgan or Ray Carroll told they shouldn’t get loud during a game.

There are snacks after each game… parents take turns and its usually a juice box, some fruit and some kind of organic cracker or cookie. No hamburgers and fries from Rudolph’s.

I’m often reminded of Gaylord’s “wall of mediocrity” in the movie “Meet the Fockers” when I’m at soccer games… it just seems so sterile.

My son, though, has a blast. And it’s not just because he’s the best player on the team… one of the best in the league based on my observations.

He loves playing… we have not had to bribe him with a hamburger. His best friend on the team is Ava. There were no Ava’s on the Cubs… but Ava is a mighty fine athlete and contributes more than most.

I’d just like to see some score keeping and win – loss columns… some coaches out to win… some parents getting down right serious… some players rallying with chants on the sidelines…

Hell, I’d settle for a good Drix fundraising campaign and a 10 cent hotdog.

But here’s the truth… my boys have great opportunities in sports… and, all joking aside, I’m sure allowing them to focus on their skills and concentration is a very good thing… I’m even sure the coach is onto something by being so happy…

But I really like yelling “just hit someone” every once in a while… yes, I know its soccer.

And I wish my sons could have experienced my little league…

(Note: That's Will and Ava and my younger son, Pete, in the photo)

Friday, October 17, 2008

130 Things You May Not Know about Mississippi... BUT SHOULD

I ran across this site earlier today while trying to find the blogging of the ubiquitous Marshall Ramsey... I love Marshall, but I'm glad I ended up at this site... 130 fascinating facts about Mississippi... Here are the first five to whet the whistle... go to the site to see them all: http://www.visitmississippi.org/secrets/facts_1.asp

130 MISSISSIPPI FACTS

"Mississippi has always been a bewitched and tragic ground, yet it's also a land of heroism and nobility; a land which has honored those of us of all our races who possess the courage and the imagination of the resources given us on this haunted terrain. I love Mississippi, and I hope the best of it will endure." Willie Morris Interview 1986

Did you know...

1. The event which led to the creation of the Teddy Bear occurred near Onward, in 1902, when President Theodore Roosevelt, acting upon the suggestion of some friends, visited the state on a hunt for wild game. A bear was located by a member of the hunting party for the President. The bear was exhausted and possibly lame, some claim it was a mere cub. In any case, Roosevelt refused to shoot the helpless bear because he found it unsporting. News of the President's refusal to shoot the bear spread far and wide. Soon after, Morris Michtom, a New York merchant, made toy history when he created a stuffed toy bear and labeled it "Teddy's Bear. " Mr. Michtom placed the bear in the window of his candy store to draw attention. His success was so great that it led to the formation of the Ideal Toy Corporation in 1903. The Teddy Bear continues to be a favorite toy of children everywhere.

2. The Blues is a music form that began in the cotton fields of the Mississippi Delta, and is considered the only music original to the United States. The University of Mississippi Blues Archive in Oxford, contains the world's largest collection of Blues music.

3. The world's first round trip transoceanic flight was performed in 1928 by H. T. Merrill, from Iuka. The flight to England was made in a plane loaded with ping pong balls.

4. Vardaman is the Sweet Potato Capital of the world. The Sweet Potato Festival is held each November to celebrate this most delectable root.

5. William Faulkner, one of the literary giants of the twentieth century, was born in New Albany. His accomplishments include winning the Nobel Prize for Literature, two Pulitzer Prizes and the National Book Award. He is considered to be the greatest writer of fiction during the first half of the 20th century. His novels include The Reivers, The Sound and The Fury, Light In August, and Absalom, Absalom. His home, Rowan Oak, in Oxford, is open to the public. At Rowan Oak, visitors may view Faulkner's room where an outline for A Fable has been scribbled on the wall by the author's own hand...

Now for the remaining 125 facts: http://www.visitmississippi.org/secrets/facts_1.asp

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Ms. Welty Speaks

I love reading Ms. Welty's works.

Surprisingly, I never paid that much attention to the books of Ms. Welty until I was in college. It was on a rainy evening in my dorm room at Delta State. I was reading Willie Morris' "North Toward Home" and his story telling (how many wonderful places has Willie's story telling led me over the years?) led me to pick up a Welty book and truly dig in.

I was hooked. Her passion and her grace... her biting and eloquent prose... her story telling has since kept me reading till the early hours of many mornings over the past years.

What's funny is that in all the reading I never noted too much humor in her words. Then, not very long ago, I ran across some recordings of Ms. Welty reading her own books. I was on the floor in laughter. How did I miss the humor that was so obvious?

I've provided a link. Listen to Ms. Welty read some of her own works. I suggest "Why I Live at the P.O." If you are mesmerized by reading her words you will be mesmerized in stitches listening to her words.

http://www.nytimes.com/books/98/11/22/specials/welty.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

Various recordings of Ms. Eudora exist at this link. Again, I suggest listening to the Pulitzer prize winner reading her short story, "Why I Live at the P.O." Its wonderful listening to the words and humor from the great writer's mouth. These recordings are from 1953 of the Mississippian speaking at the 92nd Street Y in New York City.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Translating Big Daddy... Rules for Life

There seem to be two facts I continue to learn over and over as I go through life. One is that my Southern home and way of life is pretty unique. The second is that out of all the nuances and ways of seeing things we’re really all alike, no matter where we’re from. It’s like when the sun finally burns off a thick Delta fog and it becomes evident that the dog with you in the fishing boat looks like the dog on the shoreline doing all the barking.

Grenada, MS sits on the hills overlooking the great Delta. My folks, one can say, have put down roots there. Both sides of my family have called Grenada home for more 150 years. You could surmise that we know our neighbors. We’ve pretty much been farming and running for office the whole time. We’re from the Pea Ridge community, live on Strider Road and do our shopping at Bloodworth’s General Store (our cousins). The people of Pea Ridge work hard, play hard and pray hard. Families with names like Ingram, Ross, Winter, Mitchell, Burt, Rounsaville, Thomason, Mormon, Bloodworth and Strider have been there forever. Their farms and home places are as much a part of them as their next of kin.

I am one of the community’s prodigal sons having lived, for a few years, abroad and now for nearly a decade here in Washington, DC. I was a Baptist youth minister in Hong Kong in the mid-90’s. I would have fish-n-chips at Harry Ramsden’s restaurant on Sunday’s with the Cameron’s and giant Chinese family dinners on Tuesday night’s with the Tan’s. On Saturday mornings I’d join some of my Pakistani contemporaries at their flat in the Wan Chai neighborhood for food and fun. We’d sit on the floor and eat curries and other dishes with our hands. The meals would be so hot I’d break out in a sweat. It was like someone had taped a water hose to the top of my head and turned it on.

They’d talk about the game of cricket and Pakistani players who were hot or cold just like my friends and me sitting in a rib shack down in Starkville, MS, drinking sweet tea and talking SEC football. I didn’t know cricket, they didn’t know SEC football but we knew the value of a good game. We knew the difference between work horses and show horses on the battlefield of sports.
Today, I live and work in Washington. I’m raising, along with my wife, Karen, two nearly perfect little boys – my little old aunts and other relatives back home pray every night I’ll get those boys home to Mississippi where they can be raised right. Sometimes I can see their point. But I love Washington and am glad to be here. The fact, though, is that Mississippi is home and Truman Capote once remarked that Southerners go home sooner or later, even if it’s in a box. That is indeed true.

There is one constant that stands out, one continuous thread of continuity and perspective that helps bring connectivity and meaning to all that I do – my father and the examples he provided and the lessons he taught. This old cotton farmer and politician, God rest his soul, had as strong an impact on people as anyone I’ve ever met. Possibly the strongest impact was on me.

He was known as Big Daddy by nearly everyone in Mississippi. He stood at 6'7", weighed in at over 330 pounds and wore a suit, cowboy hat and cowboy boots 7 days a week. Jesse A. “Big Daddy” Strider was Sheriff of Grenada County for 24 years. My uncle has since been sheriff and now my oldest brother is sheriff. When my father died in the late 1980’s the Governor appointed my mom to finish the last months of his 5th term. I'm pretty sure that's when I decided to move out of Grenada County. By no means did I desire to be in a county where my mom had the legal authority to carry a side arm and arrest me.

We, and it is a family affair, have to get elected every four years. With my brother currently in the Sheriff's office we're still getting elected – he’s up this year and looking pretty good. I spent my entire life since birth going door to door asking for votes. By the time I was a teenager I knew everyone in Grenada. I knew who was kin and who had marriage plans. Heck, I knew those getting divorced and usually why. That’s what happens when you sit each morning at the breakfast table of the county Sheriff. You know things.

Mostly, I learned respect for folks. I learned about listening to people and taking them seriously. Big Daddy took people seriously. No one failed to meet the importance test in his book. Everyone was valid. Everyone mattered. Everyone had intrinsic value. And he expected no less from the family he raised, the deputies he employed and the county and state he helped lead.

David Hampton, a current editor at the Clarion Ledger, Mississippi’s statewide daily, came out of Ole Miss journalism school in the 70’s and got his start at the daily newspaper in my hometown. He said this, last year in a column, about Big Daddy, “I worked in Grenada as a cub reporter and was given some lessons in Mississippi politics by Sheriff Strider. While he looked every bit the stereotypical Southern sheriff, he was one of the most progressive, open-minded and smart politicians I have ever known.

When I think about Big Daddy’s greatness I realize that is a word he would have never honestly applied to himself. He was, though, very good at bringing out and recognizing the greatness in others, be it the cashier at the little grocery at Gore Springs, the guys who cut the grass along the highway, the waitresses at the Hill Top Restaurant, the people serving a little time in his jail or the retired farming couple at Hardy he saw their greatness, their ability to love, and smile and give to others. And he celebrated that greatness with laughs, and hugs and prayers on front porches and praising the homemade ice cream he never turned down.

Big Daddy taught me a lot. I realize sometimes, at strange moments, how universal his lessons were. I’ve come to recognize this amazing progressive streak that he played out in his politics and everyday life that impacted so many people. And he knew what he was doing. He held a Mississippi county together in the post- civil rights movement. But he also moved it forward. It wasn’t about keeping the old lines drawn as a way to maintain peace, it was about getting the new integrated schools up and running, getting everyone registered to vote, bringing everyone together at the Chamber of Commerce, running the Klan out of the county.

It was also about joining in all community celebrations such as the annual NAACP Freedom Banquet. I always went with him to that banquet as I grew up. I didn’t know at the time that we were breaking new ground by being there – doesn’t that seem ridiculous in 2007? I just knew I looked forward to the end of the evening when we all stood, joined hands and sang “We Shall Overcome.” I have 3 versions of that song today on my Ipod. My love for that song and what it means to my homeland has everything to do with that county Sheriff taking me to the county Freedom banquets.

Big Daddy lived out and taught a progressive brand of politics that was about doing and not talking. It was about simply taking the right reality and putting it into action. And you know what? When I worked for Nancy Pelosi, I saw my father’s politics in her politics all the time. I certainly saw it in Jim Clyburn’s. And when Senator Clinton says that the best rule of politics is following the Golden Rule then I hear Big Daddy all over again. A San Francisco liberal, a South Carolina African American, a New York Senator with mid-west sensibilities and a Mississippi Sheriff born in the 1920’s all getting elected in their corners of the nation, speaking out from their perspectives but advocating the same hope and vision and progressive principles about our nation and world.

Now that’s a thread of continuity and commonality our nation needs to reconnect too. When partisanship takes the place of progress and ideology becomes an obstacle instead of table to sit around we’ve lost our way. Our nation needs hope and vision and know-how. We need doers, not talkers. We need to stand on that common ground, there’s room for everyone, where Californians, New Yorkers, South Carolinians and Mississippians can all agree and then agree to find solutions where we don’t agree.

We also need good politics. That’s how we choose our leaders and set our course. We need good politics where people engage, and not leave it up to others. We need Politics that are tough and fair, strong and caring, competitive and contemplative, about winning and coming together. I campaigned all the time with Big Daddy. I learned mainly by watching but he also had some favorite sayings that are worth sharing, but they must be translated or explained for full impact. He loved a good political race, he played hardball, and homeruns he hit were always fair.

So, here it is, translating Big Daddy, rules for life and the campaign trail:

“A pick up truck beats a Cadillac every day of the week out here in real America.”

TRANSLATION: Don't get fancy. Don't get fancy with your words, with your plan or with your attitude. Folks are looking for one of them to lead.

“Every tub has got to sit on its own bottom.”

TRANSLATION: In the final analysis the candidate has to carry the day. The candidate is who the voters want to hear from. Only the candidate can ultimately speak for the candidate.

“If you're driving down the highway and see a car coming toward you in your lane then you're going to change lanes.”

TRANSLATION: Don't get in the way of your friends. Stay out of other people's races. Stay in your lane and don't bring undue criticism and opposition by being nosy or getting involved where you shouldn't.

“If you come up on an old yella mangy dog and that dog is barking the word 'God' then let him bark."

TRANSLATION: Don't challenge, denigrate or dismiss the faith of anyone. A person's faith represents the core, the essence of who they are. It’s one of their most personal choices. You tear that person down if you tear down their faith. Hell, join them. It can probably do you some good.

“Be careful what you say about someone, you're probably talking to their cousin.”

TRANSLATION: You're probably talking to their cousin.

“In politics if you take a swing at someone you better be prepared to take one right back.”

TRANSLATION: I actually learned this one from House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. I share it with candidates and young political operatives all the time as I travel the country. It's a great way to remind yourself to be prepared because it’s true and it helps you think through an action. It helps you think down the road to where your decisions are taking you. I also know that Big Daddy was very aware of this principle too.

“Preach it three times. Before you do it, when you’re doing it and after you do it.”

TRANSLATION: It's not just enough to believe it or even do it. People must know where you stand on an issue. They must know your actions. Just doing something without getting the news out is a waste of good time. I run across people running for office all the time who have done good things but no one knows. They’re even indignant that others don’t know of their good work. Well, they lose no matter how much time they waste being indignant. Tell your story and tell it often.

“No one ever had to apologize for something they did not say!”

TRANSLATION: Don’t talk if you don’t have too. If it doesn’t help you, remain quite. If you’re unsure if it helps you keep your mouth shut. You must know for certain what you’re saying and why. Don’t take chances saying something you likely can’t fix.

"The person with the khaki pants, sweaty shirt and straw hat, driving the old farm truck is probably on the local Bank Board. The slick guy with the pin stripped suit, silk tie, tasseled shoes and new car probably charged his clothes and is, more than likely, a couple of payments behind on his car.”

TRANSLATION: Big Daddy was never impressed with those who put on airs. He had a lot of things to say about it. Being flashy was artificial to him. He wasn’t against spending money and living good but he was against anyone who seemed to take pleasure in using material items to show off or feel superior to others. We all know that flashiness is a waste of time in politics.

"Take the blame. Be responsible."

TRANSLATION: Don’t pass the buck. Never, NEVER pass the buck. Stand up and take it when things go bad.

"Spread the credit"

TRANSLATION: And when things go good, let people know who all was involved. Share the wealth and it will be returned to you over and over again.

“The Golden Rule is the best rule to follow in politics.”

TRANSLATION: I recently heard Senator Clinton say this. It stopped me in my tracks. Treat others as you would like to be treated – that’s the rule, isn’t it? Just imagine if that rule was applied prior to every action, statement and decision in a political campaign. Big Daddy preached to golden rule all the time. He lived it.

“The world would rather see a sermon than hear one.”

TRANSLATION: Now this is about doing instead of talking. This is from Congressman Jim Clyburn who relates a beautiful story about being in college and deciding, against his father’s dreams, he was not going into the ministry. When we took the long drive home and told his preacher father there was a long pause then his father said, “Well, son, the world would rather see a sermon than hear one.” That’s powerful. St. Francis of Assisi said preach often, sometimes use words. Our political system would be much stronger with more action and less talking. Big Daddy was all about doing and not talking.

“Don’t kick a person when they’re down.”

TRANSLATION: When people are at their lowest, no matter what they did, no matter how bad, it is not the time to pile on. Show them attention, love and support. Let them know they matter. This was Big Daddy’s philosophy not just in politics but for how the inmates were to be treated at his jail. Not your normal take on how a Mississippi Sheriff may run things. And he kept running his jail and Sheriff’s department because his county would give him 70 – 75% of the vote nearly every time he was on the ballot.

“Remember Your Raising.”

TRANSLATION: I heard that Big Daddy said this once. Cissy Ross Pierce was getting ready to move to Korea with her soldier husband who was being stationed there. There was a big going away party on our farm with all the families of Pea Ridge in attendance. At the end of the party, Big Daddy hugged Cissy and simply said “You remember your raising while you’re over there.” I was a little boy at the time and wasn’t there. But I’ve heard this story a hundred times by Cissy Ross who did indeed live in Korea then she and her family returned home to Mississippi and rejoined our community. I think it would bode well for all of us if we took time every now and then to remember our raising.

There you have it – Big Daddy translated along with a peppering of Clinton, Pelosi and Clyburn. Those old Mississippi sayings have impact. They matter in 2007. I don’t think Big Daddy considered himself a post-modern philosopher, but what he taught and lived is relevant today. Up out of Pea Ridge, from deep in rural America, echoing back to the 20th Century the voice of a county Sheriff lives on. I hope I embody, to some degree, what he believed and what I find so evident in those I work for and with here in Washington. We truly are one nation, but only when we take the time to consider the power of our values and ideas and how they connect us rather than divide us.