It's News to Me

Tonight I attended a gathering of a number of bloggers from here in Knoxville and the surrounding area at Calhoun's on Kingston Pike. Glenn Reynolds was kind enough to post links to the blogs of those in attendance. The affair was surprisingly well-attended as we overran the table set aside for the fifteen that the instigator, Rich Hailey, had told them to expect, so I'd guess there were at least 25 or more folks there. It was a very civil gathering, I thought, despite the fact that a group of that size represented almost every variation of political, social and cultural perspective imaginable. I'm pleased to have met them, and I've added each of their blogs to my bookmarks so that I can read them periodically and learn more about them and their respective points of view as time goes on.

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I'm kind of like a kid at Christmas this morning. I'm awaiting the arrival of the FedEx truck, hence the reference to «The Wells-Fargo Wagon» From Meredith Wilson's «The Music Man,» with «somethin' special» for me.

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012407 Phoenix-Grand Canyon Trip 039

Originally uploaded by Dr Reelgood.

This is one of a number of outstanding pictures Mike got during his recent trip to the Grand Canyon. I particularly like this one, when viewed in a larger resolution (which you can do on his Flickr site). If you haven't yet checked out this series of photographs, I recommend it highly. You can click on any individual picture there and once the somewhat larger thumbnail of it is displayed, you'll find an «all sizes» link above it. Clicking that will display the picture in a large size, and quite a few of them deserve to be seen that way.

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My friend Daryl Houston details the events leading up to tonight's get together at the library here in West Knoxville. I'm looking forward to exchanging performances with him of reading poetry aloud to each other.

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Yavapai Point Buck

Originally uploaded by Dr Reelgood.

Mike, Cheryl and Connor traveled to Arizona over this last weekend because Cheryl, who works for Morgan Stanley, had a meeting in Scottsdale on Monday. They went out early so they could travel down to the Grand Canyon on a mini-vacation and sight-seeing tour. Of course, one of Mike's objectives was to do some photography.

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Back in the late 1970s while I was still a member of the S.P.E.B.S.Q.S.A., Inc. (now called the Barbershop Harmony Society), I was privileged to be a member of a quartet called the Fun Addicts. Bob Wilson (tenor), Forrest Umberger (lead), and Phil Petty (bass) were the other members. We sang together all over the country for only about three years, but we used to have great times together.

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Today, January 15th, is Carole's birthday. 

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As I mentioned in a post the other day, the Plug-In to your Community group held an event for recycling computers on Saturday.  It was well attended as the photo at the right suggests.  I was really surprised by how many people took advantage of this opportunity.  The line of cars snaked through the Best Buy parking lot and eventually split into two separate lines as we drove by the collection point so the army of volunteers could unloaded the equipment we'd brought for recycling.  My car had the back seat, the passenger seat, and the trunk full of equipment.

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I had a priceless opportunity when I was growing up to become a greasemonkey. My dad, Willie Nelson (yes, boys and girls, I am Willie Nelson's son), owned a used car lot, the Decatur Auto Exchange, during my pre-teen and early teenage years. There were always plenty of cars in need of all kinds of minor, and sometimes major, work to put them in working order and get them ready for resale that I could have learned on. My dad even had people who worked for him who would have gladly taken me under their wing, allowed me to be their apprentice and learn the ins and outs of rebuilding a carburetor or setting the timing of a motor. A lot of kids of that era, the early and mid 1950s, would have given almost anything to change places with me and take advantage of the unique opportunity I had. But me? As has all too often been the case with me, when opportunity was there pounding on my front door, I wasn't interested in letting it in. I had no curiosity at all about cars, the mechanics of what makes them work, nor any interest in getting my hands dirty or greasy. Though he never expressed any unhappiness to me about that choice, I can't help thinking my dad must have felt at least some disappointment that I didn't show any interest in something he seemed to care so much about. And I can't help but wonder how different my life and, probably not coincidentally, our relationship might have been if I had.

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