Tag Archives: Kurt Warner

The Old Gal

She has had a good life. More to the point, I have had a good life, in part, because of her. We’ve been through thick and thin together, and she has silently stood with me experiencing the highs, and a few lows, of my life for almost thirty years. The times we have shared are priceless, but I’m deeply afraid the old gal’s days are numbered. I cannot fathom a life without my mainstay – my reliable one – my comforter – my mate. To me, she’s an integral part of the family. To my wife, she has served her purpose but is long overdue for being put out to pasture. I’m at a loss as to what to do about my ailing La-Z-Boy rocker recliner.

My lovely wife, on the other hand, has been lobbying for many years to replace what I’m sure she sees only as an embarrassing eyesore. Her pleas to say good riddance to the old gal have increasingly become more boisterous and much more frequent with each passing year, but her requests have consistently fallen on deaf ears. It seems as though the missus has grown to loathe the color of my easy chair, but I think mauve still goes well with our living room décor. If mauve was good enough as the primary color of our wedding then by golly it should be good enough now. “But that was over 30 years ago,” my wife keeps reminding me. Supposedly, the pale purple color is no longer hip and doesn’t even deserve a place in today’s society. When did mauve become such a bad word?

I’m guessing women just may not know how attached a man becomes to his chair over the course of time. We need only look to Martin Crane of television’s Frasier, or to the revered Archie Bunker character, to grasp the importance of a man’s easy chair in his life. If an insufferable curmudgeon’s chair from All in the Family can make its way into the Smithsonian then surely my mauve mate can continue residing in my living room. A man’s adoration for his chair is certainly nothing new and transcends multiple generations. I assume my father was very fond of his rocker recliner. Me…not so much. Many times the all too familiar sound of my father swiftly depressing his chair’s footrest meant he’d had enough of my roughhousing and was coming after me. Maybe my son has a similar story to tell about me.

I can only imagine the stories my La-Z-Boy would tell if only she could talk. I have seen and done so many things, and have watched history unfold, from the confines of my comfortable chair. I witnessed the O.J. Simpson white Bronco “chase” and subsequently the dramatic trial. I watched one evening as President Bill Clinton looked me, and the rest of the nation, in the eyes and insisted, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” I cheered for my favorite baseball team (at the time), the Atlanta Braves, as they were crowned World Series champions in 1995. I was also in my comfy chair when rooting for University of Northern Iowa alum, Kurt Warner, as he led his St. Louis Rams to a Super Bowl XXXIV victory in 2000.

However, not all memorable times spent with my mauve mate have been happy times. Once I was slowly rocking in my La-Z-Boy when out of the blue I informed my wife I thought I needed to go to the emergency room. It was the evening of the very day a dream of mine came true when I opened a music store in my hometown. The jubilation I was experiencing, from a successful day at Mac’s Compact Disc Shop, instantaneously turned into unrelenting pain. The culprit responsible for my abrupt anguish was later determined to be a kidney stone. I’ve also felt uneasy at times, oddly enough, in my easy chair (get the irony?). I’ve anxiously recuperated from a few colds and flus, softball injuries, and a knee surgery. I also somberly observed most of the events of 9/11 from my comforting chair. I’m thankful though that life in my prized chair has produced mostly positive memorable moments.

I can recall multiple times relaxing in my La-Z-Boy with my beloved dog underfoot. Brittany could be a bit of a nuisance though whenever she would decide to lay down directly in front of my chair. Her ill-advised choice often prevented me from operating the footrest without having to disturb her slumber. My dog’s decision also significantly hindered my path to both the kitchen and the bathroom, but it certainly was wonderful being worshiped by my faithful companion. Brittany’s unconditional love was often rewarded with a hunk of pizza crust or several pieces of popcorn (she’d expertly catch) during our family movie nights.

Many of my most cherished memories, while lounging in my easy chair, involve being snuggly encompassed with my child. There’s nothing quite like the pride I felt as a father when holding my newborn son, so close to my heart, while gently rocking him to sleep. Or a few years later when witnessing my toddler’s wide- eyed curiosity, while cozily on my lap, as he intently watched whatever shenanigans his favorite purple dinosaur was up to, during episodes of Barney & Friends emanating from our television screen.

Fast forward twenty-some years to a more recent memory I have of my adult son when he came to visit his very cool parents one weekend. He’s a fan of the old gal, too, so he’s frequently chomping at the bit to inhabit her. My respectful son is pretty good about asking me if he can seize control of my La-Z-Boy, before just plopping down, so I almost always say yes to his request. Just as predictable as my answer, is my son’s propensity to be snoring within only a few minutes of settling in. One time I found myself chuckling out loud after noticing my kid all sprawled out and making use of every inch, and then some, of my chair’s lounging capacity. Seeing my boy’s 6’3″ frame overflowing the parameters of my recliner was a sight to behold.

Although my son now lives over a thousand miles away, my mauve mate unexpectedly, but pleasantly, reminded me of him just the other day. I had flipped over my La-Z-Boy, as I’ve been doing from time to time, to see if somehow my mechanically uninclined self could find a cure for my ailing chair. No such luck again, of course, but on this particular day something trickled out from one of the rusty springs underneath the chair. It was a small, black strip of something somewhat familiar. Upon further investigation, I concluded that the small piece of plastic adhesive probably came from a handheld label maker my son used to own long ago. I turned the black label over to find only a single word imprinted on it – although it was a wonderful surprise! The one word was just the name of my son, but the seemingly insignificant label was much needed at the time (I was missing my boy) and is now my newest treasured possession. The old gal is the gift that keeps on giving.

So, with everything we’ve been through together, why am I now suddenly concerned about the remaining longevity of my mauve mate, and why am I even considering putting her out to pasture? Probably because my rocker recliner no longer rocks and she can barely recline anymore. The shape of my chair has slowly morphed into something only resembling that of a chair. And just the other day, while attempting to recline, I heard a “pop” as my La-Z-Boy immediately tilted to one side. I hesitantly turned her over to find a small piece of broken wood laying on the carpet. That can’t be good.

My left butt cheek now sits about two inches lower than my right one when I’m all nestled in my chair. The silver lining though is that the new angle relieves a bit of pressure off my ailing right hip, and I’m now even closer to my crossword puzzles and any snacks or beverages that may find their way onto the nearby end table. To be sure, there are a few stains here and there on my La-Z-Boy, but my adored chair does not stink, and there are no holes, rips, or tears in the upholstery to be found. Not too shabby I reckon for something that has shared in my daily experiences, and has seen me through thick and thin, for nearly three decades. I suppose I’m no longer at a loss as to what to do about my La-Z-Boy rocker recliner. I’m keeping the old gal!

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Friday The 13th

Don’t look now, but the calendar shows today is Friday the 13th. Some people become overly cautious, while others actually expect something bad will happen to them, whenever the thirteenth day of the month falls on a Friday. The sporadic occurrence is considered to be unlucky, but I can’t recall ever having a bad experience on a Friday the 13th, so I don’t subscribe to that pessimistic notion. Of course, I wouldn’t be caught dead wandering about Camp Crystal Lake today. Not even Superman has a chance against famed serial killer, Jason Voorhees, on Friday the 13th.

Many people are not only afraid of Friday the 13th, but they’re also fearful of the number 13 itself. That’s why some hotels and customer oriented businesses omit the thirteenth floor in their buildings. Try telling Kurt Warner that the number 13 is unlucky. I’m sure the former NFL quarterback and future Hall-of-Famer would disagree. The four-time Pro Bowler and Super Bowl 34 champion (and MVP) wore the “cursed” number throughout his entire football career with abundant success. The number 13 also represents a baker’s dozen. How can receiving an extra cookie or doughnut, for the same price of a dozen, ever be a bad thing?

There’s really not too many things I am frightened of – not even a Trump presidency. I don’t believe in karma, coincidences, or superstitions. I’ve been known to walk under a ladder just to prove superstitions are a bunch of nonsense. Black cats and broken mirrors don’t bother me one bit. However, I’m definitely not a fan of most reptiles, and ducks simply give me the heebie-jeebies. Any living creature lacking a pair of arms is just plain creepy. God certainly showed us His sense of humor when He created our feathered “friends.”

I must admit that in the past I used to be a little superstitious when it came to sports.  I thought I could lead my favorite football team to victory by the clothes I wore during the game. If my team came away with a win then I’d try to duplicate what I had worn for the next game. Sometimes they’d win and sometimes they’d lose, so really what was the point? To think I could somehow be partially responsible for my team’s performance out on the football field, by donning a specific outfit in the comfort of my home, was a tad egotistical. Life just happens, but it’s up to us how we deal with the circumstances of the lower story. I know the upper story (God’s plan) is flawless, so regardless of what may or may not transpire today, I’ll be fine this Friday the 13th.


Consistent Consistency

Consistent consistency, among other things, is what I long for but many times seems out of reach in today’s society. My wife enjoys a breakfast sandwich from McDonald’s every now and then, but she doesn’t care much for the hash brown that comes with the meal deal offered on the breakfast menu. Therefore, my loveliness attempts to be at the establishment precisely at 10:30am, during the switch from breakfast to lunch, in hopes of getting french-fries with her meal instead of the dreaded hash brown. Some McDonald’s shift managers will allow her to do this, but others say it is against company policy and will not. That is not an example of consistent consistency.

Inconsistency is commonly found in the world of politics as well. It’s confusing to me when a certain political party is so adamant that their president is not responsible when gas prices are high, under their party’s leadership, claiming our nation’s Commander In Chief doesn’t have any control over the situation. That claim is probably correct. However, those same individuals will gladly blame the president for high gas prices if our nation’s leader happens to be from a different political affiliation than their own. They cannot have it both ways, yet time and time again they use that baseless argument to their party’s advantage come election time.

I can’t help but think of the most recent inconsistent fiasco, that is the National Football League, when pondering consistent consistency or the lack thereof. The Carolina Panthers’ defensive end, Greg Hardy, was convicted in July for assaulting a female and threatening to kill her. There is no video, that I am aware of, but it was an assault nonetheless. Mr. Hardy has filed an appeal and is awaiting trial but continues to suit up, on game day each week, meanwhile Ray Rice is out of a job. Breaking news! Since I began writing this blog…The Panthers’ organization has discharged Greg Hardy from the team’s active roster. He will not be allowed to practice until his domestic violence case is resolved; however, he will continue to receive his weekly salary.

San Francisco 49ers’ defensive end, Ray McDonald, was recently arrested also on domestic violence charges. He is accused of hitting his pregnant fiancée, but the player remains a full-fledged member of the team. NBC sports analyst and former pro, Cris Collinsworth, stated the other night during a 49ers game that regardless of what one thinks about McDonald’s situation he is still a very good football player. The ex-Bengals’ wide receiver then went on to say McDonald should be allowed to continue playing, while the whole process is being played out, since he hasn’t been indicted yet. I was astonished to hear those words coming from Mr. Collinsworth, but I of course agree with his assertion. The overwhelming majority of sportscasters and the media are acting as both judge and jury, in the infinite number of abuse cases now being exposed in the NFL, and denying the accused due process. I guess their justice system denotes that people are “guilty until proven innocent.”

Another case lacking consistent consistency transpired this past week and once again came out of the NFL. The Minnesota Vikings’ hometown favorite and great running back, Adrian Petersen, was charged with felony child-abuse. He purportedly used a switch to discipline his four-year-old son. This adds a brand new twist to the viral discussion on domestic abuse, but it appears to be just as confusing to deal with. The Vikings’ organization quickly dismissed their star player, for one game, immediately after being informed of the allegation. They then brought Mr. Petersen back, for about a minute, before again releasing him from the team’s active roster pending the outcome of his scheduled October court appearance. He is currently on paid leave similar to that of Greg Hardy’s punishment. For those of you now anxiously awaiting my thoughts on corporal punishment you will be extremely disappointed to know I am not going to address that controversial topic in this blog.

I feel I can no longer go on without again mentioning everyone’s favorite subject, Ray Rice, since he deserves most of the credit for starting this entire mess. The ex-Raven has certainly provided me with some material to write about. Mr. Rice was sentenced by the NFL, for his bad behavior, and served half of his two game suspension before ultimately being suspended indefinitely by the League. The Baltimore Ravens’ organization supported Ray, until they no longer supported Ray, before eventually dismissing him from the team altogether. That scenario sort of reminds me of Hilary Clinton’s flip-flopping stance on the 2003 Iraq War. She was for the war, before she was against it, and now has recently criticized President Obama for not wanting to go back into Iraq and fight a winless war. But I digress. The NFL Player’s Association has filed an appeal on Ray Rice’s behalf, and Mr. Rice along with his wife (aka the victim) is considering taking legal action against the League citing “double jeopardy.” That term means being punished twice for the same offense, so I hope he wins. I am not an advocate of most lawsuits, but I am in favor of equal justice for all.

Seemingly lost in the continuing NFL saga were the racist remarks, conveyed via e-mail, by the National Basketball Association’s Atlanta Hawks co-owner, Bruce Levenson. The e-mail was sent two years ago, and Mr. Levenson freely admitted his ill-advised actions to the NBA back in July, but it was not made public until two weeks ago. The contents of the e-mail was arguably worse than the words spoken by former Clippers owner, Donald Sterling, just a few months ago. Mr. Levenson apologized, before stepping down, and has agreed to sell his share of ownership in the team. He had no choice! Not that he necessarily should have lost his ownership rights because of his offensive language, but he absolutely needed to step down just to be fair to Mr. Sterling. Bruce Levenson, strangely enough, was one of the most outspoken critics of Donald Sterling after Mr. Sterling’s scandal broke. What ever happened to judge not lest ye be judged?

Many of you may presume, based on my blogs, that I have a somewhat blasé attitude when it comes to racism, domestic abuse, and probably now child-abuse, but I assure you I do not. I’m simply for exhausting all evidence, circumstances, and scenarios of an investigation before sentencing someone and changing their lives forever. You may also be surprised to know I strongly believe in severe consequences for an individual’s proven unacceptable actions. I assure you that you would not want me to be the presiding judge handing down a sentence in your case if you were found guilty.

Last night Arizona Cardinals’ backup running back, Jonathan Dwyer, was arrested on you guessed it…aggravated assault charges. He is accused of head-butting his wife (breaking her nose) and then punching her in the face the very next day. The incidents happened in July. The Cardinals’ organization dismissed Mr. Dwyer from all team activities for now. Hold onto your hats folks. I think we’re just getting started separating the thugs in the NFL from the respectable players in the League. The National Football League has been a safe haven for abusers, drunk drivers, drug users, and numerous other criminal activities, for quite some time now, regardless of what the NFL Commissioner may claim to the contrary. It appears the NFL opened up a can of worms when they decided to publicly take an active role in denouncing domestic abuse. A good cause, no doubt, but pretty soon there won’t be enough professional players left to fill every team roster in the League.

There is probably only 1 Kurt Warner type for every 50 Ray Rice types, employed by the NFL, and that’s disheartening. Warner’s caliber of character is second to none and something the fans could always count on. The future Hall Of Famer’s gentle nature was the same before, during, and now after his time on the football field, and he is a fine example of consistent consistency. That is exactly what I am longing for whether it’s discipline in the NFL, a politician’s stance, or even the McDonald’s french-fry policy. Consistent consistency.