Getting to Church on Time

I have to say that I had a great up bringing in Tallahassee, Florida. I had a great family and friends, and life just seemed to be a little simpler back then. During the week, my dad worked, my mom toted our carpool  back and forth to school and on Sundays we went to church.  Church…..well that’s where the happiness kind of died. First of all, I’m not saying that church was bad, it was good for me. It was the getting ready for church that was such a terror. My parents were mild mannered, sweet, and gentile southern people until it was time to get ready for church....then it was “game on”. Of course, I brought a lot of the yelling on myself as I would lay in bed until the very last minute and just before the hammer was thrust upon me, I was up and frantically getting ready while my sister and I would be reminded that we weren’t doing anything after church until our rooms were clean! “I have had enough!”, they would say. Oh…it was a true Norman Rockwell moment.  Most of my friends that spent the night remember the same kind of behavior. The worst was when I would switch beds and my dad would storm in my room to wake me up in a roaring thunder, only to find my guest in the bed instead of me. After the drill sergeant left my friend in varying degrees of shock, he would find me and continue his Sunday morning ritual that might rival the Marine Base at Paris Island. Eventually, we were up and out the door with our tail ends somewhat intact. Once we got to church, it was like it never happened and all was well. I loved getting to church.

I can’t help but to laugh about those mornings now because its seems the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. It doesn’t matter how early we get up for church, we are always trying to get out the door in the same manner as our parents. The kids can’t find shoes, jackets, or socks. “What about breakfast?”  “Tuck your shirt in!”  “I said GET DRESSED!”  “We don’t have time, get in the car!”  "Please!!!"  These are a few regular favorites of mine. Please, don’t judge us; we are just doing the best we can.  If you have never had to get kids up and to church on time, well this might be lost on you.  But, take my word for it, it isn’t easy. Anyway, I’m pretty sure our kids are glad to get to church ….just like me.  Whew!

Technology Can Be Your Friend

I’ll admit it, technology finally saved my life a couple of weekends ago. It was the last day of dove season in Georgia and Will and I went to a field we have gone to a couple times this year with several degrees of success. It has been so good for Will to go as there is no substitute for experience. This particular afternoon was going along like most as we set up in the middle of the field with our lab Wilson crying out for some action. It was later in the afternoon when I notice the constant hum of a small airplane circling above. At first I thought is was a local farmer that had taken off from his pasture for an afternoon flight, but after it kept circling five or six times, I started to care. Without even looking knew it wasn’t a farmer, but “The Man”; Georgia’s finest in wildlife law enforcement. I looked up to see a GA on one wing and WILDLIFE on the other wing.

Yeah… this particular day I forgot to get my three day non resident license and it was only a matter of time before “The Man” would be walking through the field checking us for violations. They used to offer one day license for $11! Those were the glory days. Well, I was in violation and I needed to work fast. So in superb fashion, I picked up my Blackberry, looked up the phone number on the internet and called Georgia Department of Natural Resources for a license. Will asked what I was doing and I plainly stated that I was getting a hunting license. Within minutes I had Sarah on the line where she had all my information in the computer and I had a confirmation number. I had no pen so I grabbed a stick and wrote my confirmation number in the picked peanut field. In the heat of battle, word traveled quickly through the field that “The Man” was here so be ready. I never missed a beat and kept my composure as I continued the painless process of getting a license over the phone. I gave her my gmail address and it was in my inbox within minutes. Wow, that was easy.

“The Man” was making his rounds, wandering from hunter to hunter making sure we didn’t have too many birds, plugs in our guns and all licenses were current. Well, mine was very current. I introduced myself and Will to “The Man” and proceeded to show him my license…on my phone. He wasn’t too excited about the electronic license, but what do you do. I thanked him for coming by, gave him a bird Wilson had picked up by mistake to give to guy hunting just down from us, and sat back down.  I turned to Will and said, "you just passed your first of many checks by ‘The Man‘. Congratulations.” Will just said, “yeah”…..it was a special moment.

At the end of the day I sent Will to get the truck so we wouldn’t have to tote our gear all the way across the field.  While I waited I had about 10 minutes to myself in the twilight of the evening to reflect on the day's events. There are so many lessons to be learned and taken from this episode in the field. Gun safety, the essence of cheetoes eating, why we drive on the right side of the road and the Brits drive on the left, why did Wilson eat the only bird we shot, what am I going to be when I grow up and why we eventually had to go home…to name just a few. But, if you ask me, the most important lessons of the day are: keep cool under fire, don’t let your 10 year old see you sweat, stay focused, and most of all….technology can be your friend. (I can’t believe I just said that).

It's A Dog's Life

In our family we have two dogs, our full blooded, superstar field trial black lab named Wilson, and then we have Georgie.  Georgie came to us from the Franklin County Human Society where she may have some lab in her, but also some rottweiler, doberman, beagle, etc. Personally I think her parents were full blooded Franklin County hog dogs that could take down the Apalachicola forest wild boars without getting winded. The funny thing is, she is as sweet and funny as can be and the kids love her! She can also be a huge pain when she gets into the trash if it is not properly stored and spread it all over the yard.  I think this is just bred in her. She will go to the pantry, grab a box of Triscuts or loaf of bread to take out into yard where she may or may not eat it. (I am looking at a box of crackers in the yard as I write). 

We think she used to have to fight for her meals when she was a puppy due to her interesting eating habits. When we put food in her bowl, she gives us a look, picks it up and walks to a safe and, sometimes, undisclosed, place to eat. She totes her bowl everywhere!  We will find them in the yard, living room or hidden in a closest, as if it was saved for the hard times to come. Georgie doesn’t know how to play fetch, but chases the ball with Wilson. Wilson brings it back and drops it at my feet; then Georgie picks it up and runs off with it as if to say “Wilson…this is fun”! Poor Wilson just rolls his eyes and chases her around to get his ball back. Siblings….

Recently, I have let them sleep upstairs with Will in his room. He has to keep the door shut so she won’t go out for a midnight snack and the box of Triscuts I picked up in the yard….again.  Margaret always says it could be Wilson too, but I never knew him to wander in the middle of the night although I have caught him pulling cookies off the kitchen counter.  Last night I was awakened by some whining coming from Will’s room. It was around 2:30 a.m. when I got out of the bed to see what was the matter.  I opened Will’s door, Georgie walked to the bathroom, got a good drink from the toilet, walked back to Will’s room only to give me the “that will be all” look as she made her way back to bed. Who is the master here?

They both have it made. They sleep on my old chairs when it’s cold and rainy, and lay in the yard, basking in the sun on gorgeous days only to be roused (sometimes) if a neighbor is walking by. We think we teach dogs, but in as much, they teach us. There are so many dogs that I have known over the years that I would love to come back as in my second life. Some dogs seemed to have figured out the system and know better, while some never learn. Wow! That sounds familiar. Could that be applied to us? The old saying, “it’s a dog's life”, is so true and not a bad way to pass the time.

Georgie Girl ... and her food bowl ....

Wilson

Slow Day In A Dove Field

It was a beautiful, sunny, cool fall afternoon… a great day for a dove shoot. Will, Wilson (black lab) and I caught a ride with a friend and his sons to our dove field just North of Cairo Ga.  We were running a little late so we were in a hurry for no particular reason since the birds usually wont fly until later in the day.  It reminded me of going to a wedding, you hurry up and then wait;  but we were free for a couple of hours and two men and their boys were on a mission.  After one stop for peanuts and pork skins, we made our way to the field where everyone had taken there appropriate spots in the picked peanut field.  Will and I found a great spot on the corner of a tree line where we could see both ways, although we had to stare straight into the sun.  Wow it was bright!  He had his single shot 28 gauge and I was shooting my 12 gauge as I have pretty much given up on the 20 gauge at this point in my life. It's just more fun for the dog when he has something to fetch from time to time; if you know what I mean. 

Will was into the whole thing. He would call out “BIRD!” when he saw them dive into the field.   As soon as we set our stuff down, he loaded up and started shooting.  The birds flew way out of range, but the cool part was that he loaded up and started shooting on his own! This is in contrast to his cautious demeanor of last year. It is the experience of it all and “doing” that makes the difference.  At one point Will apologized for missing.  I said, “First of all get used to it.  I have been doing these 30 years and look at me.  Secondly, you have shot just as many as anyone else in the field."  He used to worry about shooting, but he was totally comfortable in his skin today.  The coolest thing for me was to see my son growing up before my very eyes.  It happens everyday, but we are usually too busy to notice.  Only when we take the time to give ourselves to others and take the time to watch, do we see our reward.  The birds never really came in the field that day but I had the best entertainment of all. At the end of the day we toted our chairs, shells and hunting stuff back and loaded the truck. 

As for our lab Wilson, he didn’t have much to do.  A retrieving machine with more energy than a splitting atom, he was restless to say the least.  Because there was nothing to pick up and he was driving me crazy, therefore I tied his leash to a three foot log to replace me. I told him, “Wilson, some things can hold you back in life, for you, it a three foot log”.  It didn’t stop that dog from being annoying, but it did slow him down a bit. Will thought that the whole thing was pretty funny.

All and all, it was a very slow, unproductive and relaxing afternoon. A father and son taking time to talk, tell jokes and just be together.  Thank you Will for giving me a great afternoon.  Keep shooting and being you.

Out Of My Comfort Zone

This weekend will be a new experience for me and my artwork as I will be showing at the Plantation Wildlife Arts Festival in Thomasville, Georgia. I applied to this show 3 or 4 years ago, but was shot down by the judging committee. Oh well, it all worked out for the best as I feel I have improved over the years resulting in a better presentation on my part.

This is all new to me as I will have a lot of people I don’t know looking and critiquing my work, rather than friends and acquaintances who feel they have to be polite and nice. (It’s a Southern thing).  Although I have shown my work before in my home (my comfort zone), I have never shown at this level.  I feel like this is a whole other league! I can remember walking through the exhibits in years past wondering how long it will be before I would be here. When will I be ready?  In past festivals I’ve enjoyed talking to the artists and marveled at some of the paintings, but other paintings I just stood and wondered what was this guy thinking? Who let this guy in?  Some artists do this for a living while some have retired from other careers and this is their hobby or a way to pass the time. But we all have one thing in common; we will all sit there for two days and let complete strangers look at our work and into our souls.

In years past, showing my work has felt a bit like standing around in my underwear at a cocktail party. It can be a bit uncomfortable to say the least. But, today…..I took my stuff up to T-ville to hang in my little booth. I have been a little apprehensive this past week about this whole thing, so I haven’t been my jovial fun self that everyone loves so well.  Hanging my paintings in my booth today, I couldn’t help but wonder what the other artists and people were thinking.  Don’t forget we are in the South.  I know its stupid and who really cares what they think, but one can’t help but feel a little pressure.  So…not only do I feel like I’m standing around in my underwear, but I hope people don’t think I look too fat and pasty white!! Oh the life of an artist.

So, if you have already seen that rerun of Caddyshack or your have time to kill in between football games, come up and see me this weekend in Thomasville; I will be the guy in the loud obnoxious pants. I hope to see you there.

Wm

http://www.pwaf.org/

A Drive To The Coast

A good friend of mine had a wedding party for his daughter and new husband this afternoon at his home down at the coast.  While Margaret took our daughter Molly to a birthday party, Will and I jumped in my restored Jeep CJ7 and headed down to the coast for a party.  Will wasn’t too excited about it as it was an adult party with no kids, but he went along with out complaint.  I told him they would be serving fried grouper and oysters, but that still did not raise any interest.  What is wrong with that boy!!!

As we sped south along Hwy 319 listening to the shuffle of 3500+ songs on my ipod, it occurred to me how good this boy has it.  I said, “Will, when I was your age I would ride with my father in an Oldsmobile or Pontiac and listen to him sing gospel music.  And if he wasn’t singing, we were listening to it.”  There wasn’t a whole lot a variety for me back in those days.  “Here we are, driving with the top off the jeep listening to anything from AC/DC to bluegrass.  How good is this?”, I said.  With a lively giggle and a high five, we carried on down the road.

On our way back, we went down a few one trail roads to some of my “secret” spots on the bay.  It was high tide so the marshes were full and water covered the road in certain places.  This perked him up and he really showed interest when the bait was getting chased almost under our feet.  He said “Dad, when you pick me up from school on Wednesday, can we come down here with our cast nets?”  That warmed my soul.

As we drove back to town, I would look over at him bobbing his head to the music and just enjoying the ride.  Will was content with the world and himself.  Comfortable in his skin and just enjoying being Will while I was just enjoying be Dad.

The Heart of the Game

Since Will started playing baseball, five years ago, I have helped coach and been at every game.  Ok, I may have missed one in five years, but it was for some ridiculously good reason.  It has been a joy to watch Will and the other kids develop skills and mature over the years.  Some have a ton of athletic skill and use it to win.  Some have athletic skill and are lazy; it comes too easy for them so work, in their minds, is not necessary to compete.  Then there are the kids who are not the best player on the team, but can hit the ball, play the position whether it is the infield or outfield, and most importantly keep their heads in the game.   As a coach, I would take these players, the ones with ” heart”, over a mini T.O. or any other super athlete I would have to babysit.

Having heart and commitment is what separates many of us from success or failure.  Stepping out of our comfort zone and trying new things takes courage and a high level of dedication to the task.  If one has the talent, but not drive or work ethic, what good is he?  People give me advice and ask me about this and that in this new venture we have started, and I certainly do not have all the answers.  I don’t know if this new painting, design or t shirt will sell or will be liked by anyone, but who can say until you try.  I expect more failures than successes as Wm Lamb & Son develops, I will strike out at the plate and have ground balls runs between my legs, but I will not let my heart be troubled.  My Faith gives me purpose and keeps my head in the game; my heart is resilient.  I would rather be as the plate swing at pitches and loosing, than standing at the fence wondering what could be.   Not that I have my moments of doute and discouragement; that is a daily event.   But my Faith is strong; it picks me up and puts me back in the game.

This thing called life isn’t easy and it certainly hasn’t turned out like I had planned back in my teenage years.  Some things haven’t worked out so well, while some things are better than I could have ever imagined.  I can look back and see where I have lost heart in people and projects, but only to be rewarded and renewed with a different path that has been laid before me.  My problem is keeping my drive and ambition in check and having patience with others and challenges I face. 

Through it all, I must have the” heart” my son Will has on the ball field.  He is not the strongest hitter or best fielder on the team, but watching him call out the plays, whether he is playing second base or centerfield, is make me proud and inspired.   Sure he gets mad when he strikes out; he should, but he keeps swinging and the smile on his face when he rounds third headed for home warms my heart and makes it all worthwhile.  The kids got heart and so must I.  

City Slickers

Patience…that is something have not mastered, much less practiced.  I find myself frustrated more than not and sometimes I embarrass myself.  Yelling in traffic or busting knuckles while fixing “things” in my fleet of old vehicles and boats.  I can be a quite a sight to see.  I don’t think it is the difficulty level of the task, but rather it is expectations I put on myself.  Sure, if you have ever met me, I come across as a very laid back and relax person, but under it all the wheels are spinning.  Sometimes they spin right of the axle again, again, and again.  When will I learn?  When will I remember to take the time to reset my batteries.  My patience seems to wane when I get tired, not physically but my mind and soul need a break.  As an artist the wheels are always turning and it is not just something I can turn off at will, therefore my mind hardly ever seems to rest.

A couple of weeks ago Margaret informed me that I needed to leave and take a break….NOW!  With my fly rods and a small bag of cloths packed, I took off for the streams and cooler weather of North Carolina.  I took my time driving through back roads of beautiful Georgia, South Carolina, but still found myself very impatient and anxious.  (no telling what would have happened if I had gone through Atlanta)

I stayed with my good friend/college roommate and his family for a couple of days.  They have always been very hospitable and a pleasure to visit.  (I hope the feeling is mutual) We set out in the mornings with a cup of coffee and plans of great success on the stream.  The first day we floated the Watauga River in East Tennessee and the Pigeon River the following day.  Unfortunately it took me until the end of the second day to finally unwind a bit and begin to clear my head.  At the end of day, the sun had set and I was getting rowed home in the flat water found in the mountains of East Tennessee.  I sat in the back of the raft with my feet on the large lead river anchor listening to the conversation and the tranquil sound of the oars dipping in the water.  It was symphonic and it seemed to replenish my soul with every stroke.  Something so simple as spending the day on the water with good friends.  One knows when it happens.  It is when the peace that God intended us to experience washes over us and we notice the small things around us that seem to forget existed.  As for me, I feel embarrassed and ashamed that I have neglected it all.  But, it is like Gods grace, it forgives me and welcomes me back.  And yes,  it is a welcome homecoming.

As I made my way home by the same route I took four days earlier, it was like I never had driven this road before.  I was at peace a had cleared my mind and soul like had done many times before when I was younger and live a lifestyle that was less demanding.  I am Mitch in the end of the movie City Slickers.  Curley said we all had to find that “one thing” that made us live and gave us purpose in life. I get it now and know what that one thing is, I just have to be reminded time after time.  We are human; we all have a little Mitch in us…..and you know,… that’s OK .

Patience or lack of patience is an symptom of a larger problem.  Take inventory of yourself and recharge your batteries when your mind and soul get weak.  If you are driven like me, it isn’t easy, but it is as important as anything you could do for yourself and your family.   Sure, I would love to heard cattle through Colorado, but for now I will stick to the casting in the streams.  See you on the water.

A Good Evening of Fishin'

I came home from work this evening to find Will had one of his best friends over to play on this muggy Friday afternoon.  They were standing over a fallen limb like a soldier that had just breathed his last breath, with purpose and intrigue.  I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through their 10 year old minds, what their plans were for this fallen soldier.  “We are going to use this limb to build a fort”, they said.  Perfect!  What a great idea!  So I gave them a hand saw and hatchet to put to good use cutting it up into pieces for the grand fort I envisioned.  Well, they got it cut up and vanished.  There it laid; in a pile that looked to be burned rather than the fort that I had envisioned.  I called for them and found that they were playing on the computer in his room.  Now, I’m not totally against computers and such, but there is so much more that two 10 year old boys could be doing on a Friday evening at 6:30 other than playing inside….on the computer.

With all that being said, I sent them down to the pond at the bottom of the hill with two fishing poles, a tackle box and some stale bread.  Molly and I walked down there a little later to check on the fisherman who had marched down the hill with purpose and excitement.  We found them frustrated that they couldn’t keep the bread on the hooks that resulted in what I call, “fishing on credit”.  I made them some small bait and showed them how to wet the bread a little and “mash” it into a small ball that will stay on the hook and not float away.  Now, we were in business!  Over the next 45 minute to an hour  I must have watched them catch 50 small bream and shiners, all the while Molly helping put the fish back in the water.  This success wasn’t a result of my wonderful bread ball making ability, rather it is all the fish that have washed down from the upper lake during hurricanes and huge thunderstorms we have here in North Florida.  I sat and watched with complete satisfaction.  Some people watched Fox News and CNN this evening; I watched three kids excited with every cast and the joy of a job well done.  My favorite moment is always when the rodeo begins as they get the fish off the hooks only to drop them on the dock and have them flop and thrash about until they are put back in the water.  I sit hoping  they won’t get finned, but they’ll live and learn.

Molly and I walked back home to get something to drink and the truck; as it was getting late and time to call it a day.  The boys each caught one more fish, gathered their gear and headed back to the truck as I arrived  at the pond.  With the  my three fisherman’s feet dangling from the tailgate, we made our way back up the hill towards home. As a kid myself, this was how I remember the ride home from the barn with my grandfather at the end of the day.  It was hot and muggy as if the thick Bahia grass would just hold the moisture until the fall winds would blow it away.  It didn’t matter back then; that was just the way it was.  I was a kid, just like the ones on my tailgate, oblivious of how good this world can be; or just how ruthless it can be.  As we closed out the day with a good evening of fishing,  we all saw the good side of life.  And as for the fort, well it will just have to wait for another day.