A Marvelous Example

Well, I'm going to embarrass someone again.  No, I'm not going to spill family secrets (I can hear you saying "Darn it!"), or tell about the juicy stuff on a person.  Instead, I'm just gonna talk about someone I admire again.

You see, today's my father's 75th birthday.

Michael M. (Mike) Fisher has been a beacon of love and patience for as long as I can remember.  The fact that my sister and I are still alive is a testament to this.  Whenever we would be on the receiving lectures as children, he would always say one thing that we would be sure of - and be sure to disagree with - "Now I'm not that smart . . ." Both Diana and I thought (and still do) that Dad's the wisest person on the planet.

Think we're prejudiced?  Well, we could be.  But we have some nice-sized evidence in our favor.  Mom and Dad had a Bible Study for youth in their home for thirteen years.  It ended only when it was thought Dad was dying.  (That's another story, and thankfully, it didn't happen.)  That was in 1978.  Do the math.  Thirty-one years ago.  To this day, people who went to that study will occasionally call up the folks when they are having problems.  They want to know what Mike and Tomi Sue think.

On two different nights a week, Dad meets with young men from our church.  Both times, the young men approached him.  Each of these men is young enough to be his grandson.  Yet they don't see him as that 'old man,' but someone whose opinion they respect.

Dad spent most of his life at the Oklahoma National Stockyards.  When someone from there passed away, nine times out of ten, he was asked to do the funeral.    He was dubbed "The Parson of Packingtown" by a funeral director, a badge he wore with honor.

Dad's great loves are God, his country, and his family.  If you ever want to see what true love looks like, ask Dad about my mother and watch his eyes.  It's like Romeo on ether.  They've been married for fifty-one years, and they are still the perfect example of what love is.  He doesn't call Mom his wife, but his bride.  That may not seem like much to some people, but stop for a moment and think about it.

He's an avid historian, dealing with the Civil War and World War II.  He could write scores of works on either one.  Dad scoffs at that notion, thinking that tasks like that are best left to people such as Shelby Foote and Stephen Ambrose.  When he did write, he and his friend Joe Jared decided to co-author a historical devotional.  That is what Dad decided his forte should be, and it is something that men such as Foote and Ambrose could not have written . . . but Dad and Joe did.

To Diana, he will always be Daddy.  To me, he's Pop or Dad.  He'll always be my best friend.  To Mom, he'll be her best friend and spouse.  To others he's a shining example of what a good Christian and human being should be.

I wish I had his energy and I thank you ever so much for being my father.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Never Forget

Today, Veteran's Day, is a time of remembrance.  A time to think of those who served in various ways for our armed forces throughout the years.  Please take a moment of your time and give thanks to God for those who paved the way for us.  I often shudder to think about what our lives would have been had they not made the sacrifices they did.

Today's generation, like that of the 1940s, is chock full of sports fans.  Any idea what the greatest team ever was?  Some would say the 1927 Yankees.  Others would mention the Oklahoma Sooners with their long unbeaten steak.  The same could be said for the UCLA Bruins in basketball.  Some might say the 1980 U.S. Hockey team.  Every person would be wrong.



Omaha Beach on D-Day,
June 6, 1944

 It was the United States Military during World War Two.  This nation came together as a team, and every facet of the military depended on the other.  One could not survive without the other.  It was a well-oiled machine, and worked to perfection.  At the beginning of the war, it was creaky, but once the ball got rolling, the Axis Powers were in considerable trouble.  This nation used teamwork to win the war, and did a thorough job of it.

Today, we are a nation of individualists.  We're like Templeton the Rat in Charlotte's Web, constantly asking, "What's in it for me?" when we should be joining in to assist others.  When we look at the Greatest Generation, many of us see them as 'old people' now instead of those who saved the world.  There is still much to learn from them:  Toughness, teamwork, perseverance, loyalty, and so much more.  Take the time to listen to these people.  They are a treasure of riches and leaving us at a record pace.

                                                Enjoy them while we have them.

Many Thanks, Dr. George

I went into college with one thought in mind as far as political science was concerned:  It was the best cure for insomnia invented.  And then I signed up for American National Government in the Fall of 1983.  Of all the upcoming classes, I dreaded it the most.  (My Beginning Badminton class I eagerly anticipated.)

In scanning through the book, I noticed the people who'd had it before had written all throughout the book, a cardinal sin to a book lover such as myself.  The majority of my notes were already taken.  The first day, in walked Dr. John H. George.  The man to this day disgusts me.  His goatee was always well-groomed.  His jokes cracked everyone up.  And he was interesting every single class period.  If he wasn't such a likable fellow, I'd've hated him.  He didn't like to be called Dr. George, as he said he couldn't cure anything and said for us to call him John.  (I never could.)  But if we were uncomfortable with that, he always liked the term World Dictator.



Dr. John George (far right) at a seminar
dealing with extreme terrorism

We knew right away this was not our usual professor, as whenever the chalk was gone, he'd go on his usual tirade, blaming the Communists.  You see, they were the ones who took the chalk so he couldn't write on the board.  That way we wouldn't learn anything, so we wouldn't know how to vote.  Of course, a bunch of uneducated people are going to elect morons to Congress, and therefore, the Communists are going to take over the country from a batch of morons.  And that was why the chalk was gone!  Of course, he had it lengthier, and by the time he was done, we were always in stitches.  I'll never forget the one time, he came in, not saying a word.  Dr. George opened his briefcase, took out a box of chalk, and turned to the board.  (We were already dying of laughter.)  Dumping the contents all along the chalkboard, he put the box in his briefcase, slammed it shut, and said, "Let's see the d--- Communists do something about that!"  We completely lost it, but the man knew how to get our attention.  And the next class period, all the chalk was gone.

He loved track and field, especially Mary Decker.  Once he went so far as to show us how she'd run a race, sprinting across the room.  Some smart-aleck shouted out, "Slow motion!"  Darned if he didn't s-l-o-w-l-y go backwards and repeat his steps in slow motion. 

He affected my life by asking to speak to me in the cafeteria.  I have to admit, I was wondering what I'd done wrong.  I went up to his table when I was done, and he asked what my major was.  After hearing my reply of history, he asked if I'd considered a minor of political science, saying that I was one of the most informed people in the class.  (Having the book with everyone's notes in it helped.)  He then offered to assist  me choose my classes if I was interested.  Needless to say, I was flattered.  While that was my minor from that moment on, I didn't take him up on that offer.  Instead, I merely signed up for his classes whenever I could.

A good many professors had and have the reputation of lowering a student's grade if that person disagrees with them.  Not so Dr. George.  One particular class, he was making his point, and there was total silence afterwards.  This disappointed the man, as he always encouraged and welcomed discussion.  He pointed out to us a) anything we said wasn't going to affect our grades, b) we should always practice freedom our speech, as that's what the military has been fighting and dying to protect since the American Revolution, but c) never argue for the sake of arguing, as then he'd tear us apart.  If a person wanted to disagree, then they needed to have a good argument.

When someone asked him in class if he was an atheist, Dr. George was surprised.  He'd attempted to hide his agnosticism from us as he didn't want to influence anyone's religious viewpoint.  It was the same with one's political viewpoint.  He was a member of the Libertarian Party, but only because he didn't care for the Republicans or the Democrats.  Yet he had to be a member of a party in order to vote in the primaries, which he considered his duty.  During a seminar, the head of Oklahoma's Libertarian Party spoke.  The man said that 1) they were going to completely going to abolish income tax - but have a 10% flat tax, and 2) the police were merely paid assassins.  I don't know how he finished, as everyone was laughing at him.  The next morning, as Dr. George came in, before anyone said anything, he said, "You know I'm only a member of that party so I can vote in the primaries!  Where did they get that fruitcake?"  We talked about that guy for twenty minutes, shooting his lecture to the next class period.

Before terrorism was a major issue in this world, he was teaching classes on it.  His classes weren't the normal political science classes of the era.  And he always kept one's interest.  His updated version of the Declaration of Indepence was considered a classic piece of literature among his students.

Dr. George passed away two years ago.  Before then, I was able to get in touch with him, letting him know how much I'd enjoyed my time in his classes, and thanking him for instilling a lifelong interest in politics.  He replied, thanking me for contacting him.  I wish I had kept in touch with him on a more regular basis.

Thanks again, Dr. George, and I hope you have enough chalk. 

Meet the Future!

Yesterday, I wrote of my memorabilia collection.  One of the reasons I collect things my posters and lobby cards is that they remind me of my childhood or films that I wish I had been able to see on the big screen.  I've read several articles lately regarding the recent film Toy Story 3, in which grown men have left the cinema with tears streaming down their cheeks, as it reminds them too much of their own childhood.  The best article regarding this was written by a hard-boiled critic - who openly admitted to bawling like a baby during the film.

Oh, our memories are wonderful things to have.  Our family, whenever we get together, loves to listen to Dad tell stories about his brothers, high school friends, and father.  They were the ornriest batch of people the Good Lord ever created.  (My sister's kids come a close second.)  But the best part of this is not the listening to the tales, but the look on Dad's face as he remembers his friends and family.  He enjoys it more than anyone.

Yet while we love our pasts, we need to remember that the future holds great promise for us.  There are a good amount of people stating, "Ahem!  I'm (censored!) years of age, so what do you mean by that?  There isn't much I can do, y'know." 

Max Apple wrote of his grandfather, Rocky, who'd raised him.  When Max's wife became terminally ill, Rocky took over the household to assist his grandson.  Rocky was only 103 years of age.  He considered himself  'too busy to die' and wouldn't until he knew Max didn't need him any more.  Rocky helped Max prepare for his future, and taught him a great deal.

The future is out there, and it's waiting for us.  Be a Rocky and help others prepare for it.

More Than A Hobby

Scaramouche card

The other day I received in the mail a decent-sized package.  I opened it up, knowing full well what it was.  Checking the contents, I was quite happy, then put them in the bottom left drawer of my dresser.  You see, that's where that particular bit of merchandise goes.

Aha, you think.  He's just told us where he hides his Christmas presents.  Uh, no.  But that is where I put my non-Western movie memorabilia.  And these two lobby cards were from a 1962 re-release of Grand Hotel, which is anything but a Western.

Yes, I'm a movie memorabilia fanatic.  My family learned a long time ago to quit calling it 'stuff' or 'junk.'  The latter word always got a "tch, tch, tch," especially when they discovered what some posters were going for.  Alas, none of mine are in the astronomical range.

In that case, why own them?  Simple:  I like them. Now if I like the film and not the artwork, forget it.  A perfect example is the highly underrated 1956 Western Tension At Table Rock.  For a forgotten film, the memorabilia from this movie is astronomical.  And whoever designed the poster had to have been on LSD!  (Remember, it was legal then.)  Fortunately, the 1/2 sheet, which is 22x28 is wonderful and I found it for $4 in an auction.  I don't have a place to put it, but I have the money order going out in tomorrow's mail.

Several pieces of my memorabilia are signed:  A lobby card from True Grit is signed by Glen Campbell.  Henry Fonda's signature adorns a lobby card from The Rounders.  Robert Fuller not only autographed my soundtrack album from Return of the Seven, he'd never seen one before.  Joel McCrea signed my 1/4 sheet to Ride the High Country front and back.  (This is my favorite piece of memorabilia.)  An ad from The Comancheros has John Wayne's signature below it in the frame.

An entire wall of my study is adorned with lobby cards from Western films.  Every month, I change them out in order to showcase more cards. (I'm past due for this month.)  I do this in twenty-one different frames, and I have six posters on the wall, not counting the Ride the High Country one.   

One corner of my bedroom looks like a tribute to Scaramouche.  Janet Leigh has signed some things from that film.  Lesley Anne-Down has autographed some lobbies from The Pink Panther Strikes Again that are on the wall. 

Yes, it's an addiction.  But a harmless one.  And I do go through my collection, just like I did my baseball cards as a kid.  Sometimes, I'll go, "Wow.  I didn't remember having that German set," or, "Gee, that's in better shape than I realized," and I'll reminisce about the film or how I found the memorabilia.  It's a blast going through my collection. 

Everyone should have a hobby.  This is the one that helps to deplete my bank account.  But I enjoy it, and opening the package to see if that lobby card from the 1957 version of 3:10 to Yuma is as good as they say is always a thrill.  I know my friends and family think I'm a nut, but that's okay.  I'm just thankful they put up with me, quietly nodding as I get excited to see the mailman.