A Job in Baseball (Maybe)

My recent cover letter I submitted along with my resume of 34 years military service in the slim hopes I can get a job at Luther Williams ball park here in Macon when Baseball returns in 2017!

 

 

Dear Macon Base Ball (2 separate words intended):

OK--

 I'm what you might call mature---I know you guys want the energetic young kids out of school, and hell, I don't blame you!

 Do you know how many people sent me a link to the jobs for the new Ball Team? OMG....why? because I am a 100% Macon Georgia Luther Williams Baseball loving American...with my experience comes a well-rounded well thought out common sense oriented individual who can accomplish any task assigned—

Some of my qualifications may not be listed in the resume, but will recap a few here:

 -My next door neighbor, Jack Gilbert, played on the Peaches and taught all the neighborhood kids how to play ball.

 - I saw Satchel Paige throw out the first pitch at Luther Williams back in 1980.

 - I got to sit in the recliners with my 4 year old son atop the dugout back in 1998 during the Macon Braves days; I had just been notified of being reassigned to Columbus, Ga., and thought my world ended if I had to leave Macon. Sitting in the recliners and watching the game with my son—are you kidding? I nearly wept.

- Fast forward to 2011, I watched my own son play High School ball at Luther Williams and he and I both had goose bumps for two and a half hours. I got to throw out the first pitch— a knuckleball, of course. I came to a crossroads of either weeping openly or soiling myself. Providence took over and I did neither, thankfully.

 

I don't care what the job pays! I will be the first one there and the last one to leave...

Besides, Old men, Base Ball, and kids go together. Let George Do It!

Regardless of the outcome of my resume, I am glad y'all are here in the greatest hometown of them all—I will see you at the game!

 

George L. Fisher

Macon Boy

Baseball Nut
Trained Killer (Retired)
Slayer of Dragons large and small

Truck Stop--Bucket list check!

If you ever go looking for your hearts desire, you need not look further than Lower Bibb County.
I stopped at the Sardis Road truck stop yesterday afternoon.
They have EVERYTHING there!
It's amazing.
Camouflage coats for winter, T shirts, shirts with the sleeves cut off--a quick glance around thus store and one can see that the clientele are a lot burlier than I am. They have hams for arms and no sleeve shirts probably have functionality. For someone like myself to go sleeveless would require a mullet haircut and an addiction to meth.
Regardless, this place is a complete outfitter as well as having other gear to improve ones swag. Harley Davidson logo ear buds, big screen TVs, state of Georgia souvenirs that include a shot glass with a skull on it that has GA on the forehead. There was an entire wall devoted to electronic device chargers and cords, and of course if all you required was a Mountain Dew and a Slim Jim, they have that, too. They have roller food, and a trifecta chicken pizza sandwich place--all under one roof!
It's amazing.
How anyone could come in here just to grab a Slim Jim and drink is beyond me. Behind the glass cases there was a big selection of GPS'es and knives.
It is total sensory overload.
It is amazing.
The only things I didn't see were slot machines and live bait, but lest I kept wandering around, I would surely have found those.
People-- by people I mean the truck drivers mostly, even sign up to take showers here. No need to worry about showering in someone else's leftovers, because you can buy some flip flops to keep from getting truck driver fungus. They are located next to the shirts with the cut out sleeves. Available in two colors, black and camouflage.
It's insane. It was a bucket list check for someone that has no bucket list. I almost peed a little.
I tarried not, because my pizza was ready and I had to scoot home to Wifey and Satch.
But Ive got news for you--those folks have it going on in lower Bibb.
In a word, it's amazing.

The Misadventures of Macon's favorite Hound dog

Items that Satch has chewed this week:
1. A pair of Sues reading glasses
2. The dust pan
3. A softball
4. A Norelco electric razor
5. The edge of the step in the foyer.
6. His 2 new toys and one beef bone; chewed to a fare thee well.
7. A piece of weather strip off the front door.
...the new oversized tennis ball was bought today. As soon as he awakens, I'm sure it will also meet its demise. #chewingwearsabodyouthttps://www.facebook.com/george.l.fisher/posts/10155001895778883

You know how when you go to the Mexican restaurant there's the table that orders the fajitas and the waiter walks past with a sizzling smoking plate that makes the entire place smell almost as good as chicken frying?

Well, kids, I will have you know that I jumped out of my normal "I'll have the number 3" and went whole enchilada (if you'll excuse my espanol) and ordered the chicken fajitas.

The sizzling smoking plate that smelled up the restaurant landed at my table this evening.

Wifey says every time she forces me out of my comfort zone I always remark how I enjoy it. She's right, of course.

3 glasses of water and 25 napkins later and everyone in the place knew they were dealing with a renaissance man...ahem. #fajitasdelajorgepescado

Observations in Air Travel

The flight from Denver to Atlanta had several folks from France on board. All of them were decked out on big Harley Davidson leather jackets and western hats-- um, chapeaus, if you'll pardon my French. I was amused watching them taking all that gear off and stuffing it into the overhead storage bins, all the while parlay vous fran-saying , if you'll once again pardon my French, Mesdames et Messieurs..surely they would be in dire straits upon arrival in Georgia, the hottest place on Earth....

The man sitting next to me purchased what obviously was his supper. While the rest of us heathens had the Delta special, i.e. Coke and pretzels, this fellow whipped out the plastic from his money clip-- that ought to tell you something--and purchased what is referred to as an 'in flight tapas snack box'. I know this because I read the box...I don't know what Tapas is--in fact I just looked the word up and its Spanish and means 'snack' --- so a 'snack snack' box...probably established by the Delta Airlines department of redundancy department.

I never heard of tapas-- best I can tell, they didn't have it until just a few years ago, but it appears that tapas is 25 individually wrapped snacks shoved into what should be a KFC 2 piece and biscuit snack. Little dried English peas, yogurt, some crackers, and some hummus (I could smell it) and some other things I didn't make out looking out of the corner of my eye because I didn't want to stare at the guy when he was having his supper, I mean, tapas.

 He consumed his in flight tapas snack snack box with sparkling water.

 Grab that and let it sink in---Sparkling water. When I hear those words it makes me think I need to be wearing a tie.

I, too, had sparkling water. It's referred to as Co-Cola, hallowed be thy name.

If I ever owned an airline, like if I resurrected Eastern Airlines I would call it Georges Southbound and Down Airways, and we would offer the aptly named 'Fried Yardbird Special' snack box' with either wing and breast or thigh and drumstick. For shorter flights we would give out moon pies, in whichever flavor our customers like--chocolate, vanilla, or banana.

 Everyone would be welcome, regardless of the language they spake---um, speak...spoke. And they could keep their money clip in their pocket. For the price of a ticket, we can dang well feed 'em and give 'em free wifi, and, I'm saving the best for last--a lemon scented moist towlette to wipe the yardbird off their hands.

 In the meantime, please refrain from tapasing on the backs of the seat in front of you, and have a pleasant flight.

The supper menu called for a breakfast sandwich (sausage, egg and cheese) served on one of those multi-grained Bagels that Wifey likes. 

I made a command decision and opted for English muffins instead. 

When I say 'opted', however, that really means that I had to come up with plan b, because there weren't any bagels. 

Here's why...

Having just ascended the basement stairs, I saw Satchel surrounded by what surely must have been all the pillows from the den, gnawed to a fare thee well, their freshly gnawed contents throughout the floor. 

It looked like Hells half acre.

My mouth was open. It was beyond open, it was agape. No words came out. Even my adjectives would have to wait.

 Satchel Paige, my floppy eared hound dog who was given to me to ease the pain of not having my grandkids close by, had retrieved the bag of multi-grained bagels--the kind Wifey likes--from the kitchen island. The same kitchen island that is, um, er, was--beyond his nimble reach and sturdy mandible. 

My inability to speak---along with the realization that Satch had just consumed and or scattered the entire bag of multi-grained bagels-- the kind Wifey likes--converged at the same time, and for the next 30 seconds I let fly with nearly all my adjectives, wiping the dust from several that haven't been used in a while.

Bagels. 

Everywhere. 

In all shapes and pieces, chewed and unchewed, not to mention  the larger bagel pieces he took and hid in the corners of the sofa and chair, like he does when hiding his bones for later. 

I was in full afterburner, my phrases spoken in a tongue that fast became a blue streak, but as my mouth was coming in for a landing here's what I saw...if you look close he has a bagel 'stogie' in his mouth. 

Get a dog, they said. It'll be fun, they said.

A GIRL TO LOOK UP TO



Lane Elementary Class of 75- Joy Culpepper on back row,
runt George front far left

By 1975, the tallest girl at McKibben Lane Elementary was a young lady by the name of Joy Culpepper. We were all in our last year there, and like a lot of kids, all of us had spent our entire school career at Lane. It’s quite possible that Joy was the tallest girl in each grade previous, but there is no supporting data to verify that claim. As one of the kids closest to the ground, everyone was usually taller than I. I was a runt among runts, as it were.

As girls go, she was one of the good ones. She could hold her own when it came to kickball and basketball—well, in basketball she commanded respect. Like I said, she was the tallest girl in school, which meant she was taller than most of the boys in class as well. In todays' parlance, she would be considered to have 'Playground Creds'. In those days, one’s prowess on the playground had far reaching effects that could result in an extra milk or dessert at lunch from one of your peers or the loan of a pencil or paper when caught short.

 

Joy Culpepper had playground creds.

On occasion, she would chase me down and place me in a headlock or grab my arms and spin me around. Such was life in those halcyon days of grammar school.

I recall her having announced to our class an older sister Brenda who was a participant in the Miss Georgia pageant; her older brother Lee went to Lanier High, where the greatest ROTC program in the world was located.

On another occasion, Joy got up and sang in front of the entire student body—the Mac Davis song “Baby don’t get hooked on me”—and it was obvious her playground creds had transferred over to the lunchroom stage. I was amazed because how could a kid, 6 feet tall or not, have the guts to get up and sing in front of people? I was mortified! If I was so much as asked to go to the chalkboard to work a math problem, I peed a little.

Well, I had a recurring thought about Joy over the years--the main thing I thought about, though was DID I EVER GROW UP TO BE AS TALL OR TALLER THAN JOY CULPEPPER?!?

Why that thought stayed with me I can't explain—there were several boys in the class who were much taller than me but I always figured that was normal--perhaps it was sexist in a way to think I might at least be able to attain the height of the tallest girl in school, thereby having some modicum of self-worth.

Thru the power of social media, several of the Class of 75 have become re-acquainted. Joy has a beautiful family and now lives in South Georgia. Her family looks like the family in the picture frame you buy at the store. Her kids are all tall, in fact, taller than their Mother. Her husband Stan is as tall as a Redwood as well, and a nicer man you can't find.

And today, I had lunch with my lifelong friend Joy Culpepper Crawford, her husband Stan, and one of their beautiful daughters Karly. It was wonderful to reminisce and it made my heart smile.
And after 42 years of wondering if I ever got at least as tall as Joy, the answer to my question was finally answered…(see the photo)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Playground Creds, 42 years later