It’s taken a couple days to get back into the groove back home. I’ve been gone four weeks and the world feels like it’s passed me by. Thus is the tempo of Internet marketing.
Therein it goes
I just finished working on wearing out my running shoes. And I just finished killing some ants at oldold man Finn’s summer place – when saving a jam basket, make sure it’s all cleaned out. Now comes the task of waiting for messages to be returned, compiling the to-do list, and reminding myself that the Book of Blues Prequel won’t write itself.
So long as I can stay busy, I can keep managing my winter blues…so I hope.
And another ant down. It’s a 33-degree day in The Region. Where the hell are they coming from?
While on my cramped flight to Chicago with less then amicable elders, I found my escape in the form of:
1) “Reckoning” by the Grateful Dead & 2) “Twitter Marketing for Dummies” by Kyle Lacy.
I pre-ordered Lacy’s book back in, what was it, October & I had it half-read in a few days. Then life kicked in and I didn’t get back to it so I decided to take it with me to Ft. Myers, Margaritaville. Glad I did because I was able to finish it before we got to the stopover in St. Louis.
And then the less than amicable passengers from up front left. And the positive chi return.
So as the plane refills the 8 of us remaining with 75 new Chicago-bound passengers who brush my shoulder and arms with their bags and backsides, I give, in the classic Twitter style, a 140-character review of “Twitter Marketing for Dummies:”
Definitive read. Ideal for beginners and a refresher for pros. Needs a to-do checklist & link to updated apps for be complete
Yeah, I liked it. And I learned things I isn’t know before, espeially things on Media usuage and resources to print media via Twitter.
The last of the new passengers have finished ceremonially grazing my shoulder, which means it’s time to shut down the airplane-unfriendly iPhone for awhile as we head for sweet home Chicago.
Get Kyle Lacy’s book. & for those who’ve read it, let me know what you think.
Ooh dear, I’m being a rebel. Gots to to so we can leave early…
I’m on Southwest Flight 138 in Fort Myers, headed for Chicago w a stop in St Louis. And my judgment is skewed, subjected to my bittersweetness of leaving oldold man Finn, my love for my second home – Ft. Myers, Margaritaville – and claustrophobic barriers being pummeled by an unusual selection of self-centered passangers not wanting to share seats. my need to escape this eerie chi is only magnified my feeling that this flight is ominous.
I hope my senses are off.
luckily 1) I got the aisle and 2) the nicest person in the cabin is now sitting next to me. He’s a boy, not much older than 12. Already lost in his book, he seems to share my need to simply get this flight moving. he doesn’t hold the same angered expressions the elders in the front held.
time to shut this down. don’t need the iPhone wordpress app to be the predestined reason for my fears.
Oldold Man Finn and I took off for Clewiston, Florida at about 10:30 am this morning. He wanted to show me a little bit of Florida history during this “bad” weather – bad as in “it hasn’t broken 60 in a few a days.”
Clewiston sits on the southern edge of Lake Okeechobee. It’s the home of US Sugar Company, the company that once owned the historic Clewiston Inn where the oldold Man and I had lunch.
The Clewiston Inn looks like a classic Southern Inn on the outside with a two-story, white marble column entrance. Its inside has decor that pays homage to the Everglades – wildlife, fishing, hunting…
Glorious wooden greeting room, a legendary lounge with a wall-to-wall mural painted by a local artist, Clewiston Inn was indeed a nice little local treasure.
While at lunch, I got a call from a buddy who suggested I write about the Clewiston Inn. I might still do that. I took pictures and I’ll put them in a Flickr gallery when I get back home.
But it was after lunch that stirred the imagination
As we were leaving the parking lot at Clewiston Inn and heading a mile down the road towards “the last light in town” (because our waitress thought we knew where that was) which would take us to a scenic trail for Lake Okeechobee, I pointed out the there are roads that circle the water.
“Yeah, but you really don’t see the lake,” he pointed out.
If the “scenic” trail was any indication, then he was dead on. We shoulda brought the boat we don’t have.
As we were comin’ back from the “scenic” trail, I played around on Google Maps to check our trail back when something surprising caught my eye:
I pointed out to the oldold man that we were actually closer to West Palm Beach (~ 45 miles) then we were to Ft. Myers (~72 miles).
“Oh yeah? You know of West Palm Beach?”
“My once-employer used to have an office there.”
He hemmed and hawed as we started to head back towards Ft. Myers.
A couple miles later he pulled into a gas station.
“You have three-quarters of a tank left,” I noted.
“Yeah, but I couldn’t turn around on the road.”
“We’re actually going to tour Lake Okeechobee?”
“Nope.”
And before I knew it, we were headed for the Atlantic Ocean.
I’ll write more about the trip in the next couple days, but for now I was overwhelmed by the fact he turned around. I knew the oldold man still had it in him.
I think he’s starting to realize the vitality of his age.
I’m older than I care to admit and today I got to take an unplanned, college-style roadtrip from the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic Ocean and back with my 84-year-old grandfather.
On my last year’s journey to Ft. Myers, Margaritaville, I stayed 17 days. This year, I get to stay a little longer. At first I was concerned because I had loose ends to tie up, but everything is now under control.
On my last post I talked about how my sister identifies with the Dixie Chick’s Taking the Long Way Aroundand how she’a learned to live life with six strong hands on the steering wheel:
Her
Her Hopes
Her Dreams
As Dixie Chicks fans could probably guess, the other song I’ve been listening to on my extended stay in Fort Myers, Margaritaville is their anthem Not Ready to Make Nice.
Their anthem is also my sister’s anthem. And I couldn’t be prouder of her choice.
See, my sister has had endure more than people should have to face.
They say God doesn’t give you more than you handle. But they never mention that debtees end up having to pay society for the debt incurred from the damage done by their debtors, even when the debtors wash their hands of the transactions and hide behind the walls of their repackaged Tower of Babel.
And when the debtors want bygones to be bygones, going so far as to ask for forgiveness to the debtees and then telling their own stakeholders they are not responsible, pushing so far as to dive into moral relativeism in hopes of blurring the events of history and long-con their way back into good graces…
When the Dixie Chicks spoke out, you can’t tell me that Toby Keith’s PR agent didn’t smell gold and encouraged him to speak out. He probably scripted TK’s speech. Think I’m crazy? Check Toby Keith’s records scales before and after the 2003 fallout. Check out the awards. Some think the Dixie Chicks / Toby Keith feud was as for show before it got personal.
The Dixie Chicks laid low for three years, then came back and professed they were going to stay strong:
“I’m stil mad as Hell and I don’t have time to do what it is you think I should [do].” – The Chicks
If a debtor doesn’t mention their debt, is it still a debt?
In my sister’s case, she wasn’t even aware of the debt. If she didn’t uncover it, her debtors would have never said anything. Slid it under the rug, snuck through life without mentioning. Ignored it and hoped it went away.
“They’re no longer those people.”
Spiritual awakenings don’t pay debts
So long as I’m breathing, the debtors will never be within a gas tank hybrid road trip of my sister until the debt is paid. Her debt is my debt.
And they’re gonna pay that debt with interest. If not one way…
‘Cause I ain’t ever gonna be ready to make nice.
And I can’t help but doubt any spiritual awakening that claims you don’t have to give to Caesar what is Caesar. Not a fan of the Bible? Pick a different canonical text or set of rules from a great nation. They all have a similar concept.
That’s why “Not Ready to Make Nice,” is a blues song
And if my sister’s fight doesn’t inspire you, too, then you’re probably a debtor. You better honor that debt.The alternative is far worse.
And That’s why I like the blues.
And if you can’t see the blues in these stories – the debts, the pain, the mountain of obstacles, and the fight for balance that teeters on vengeance, then, oh, to have your life. And, yes, envy is bluesy too.
Speaking of inspiring stories and songs from Texas
Along with my sister finding inspiration to her inspiring story in songs from a Texas band and my new-found love affair with Austin, Texas, I take a moment to shout out to my once-intern, Bailey Holloway.
As of yesterday, Bailey took her VU degree, packed up her son and her life up here in The Region and sought to make a better life in Texas. Regardless of whether she stays or comes back, I couldn’t admire her anymore for the courageous decision.
So long as she realizes that moving to Texas doesn’t get her debt to me: a few lunches I covered as she interned.
Bailey – may you learn how to live, sing, and dance as they do in Texas.
