I'D LIKE TO OWN A DRIVE-IN RESTAURANT

 Amy and I spent the last weekend in Hendersonville as we celebrated our daughter Lacey’s and son-in-law Nick’s April birthdays. For the first time in more than a year, we had the chance to hug them, as well as grandson Madden. It was a wonderful weekend. 

On the way home, I tuned in the 60’s station on Sirius. It was a good session as the playlists pumped out the best songs from my life during that time. At one point, I changed to the 70’s station, and even more signature songs from my teen years played.  

The mind trip I took brought a smile on my face. I told Amy that if I had it to do over again, I’d open a drive-in restaurant. No, I'm not talking about Sonic. The layout might be the same, but a back curb would also be available to customers.  

To those folks who are of my age, can you honestly say that a drive-in wasn’t one of the best parts of your young life? Whether it was the Copper Kettle, the Hollywood Drive-In, Jiffy, or Blue Circle, a drive-in was a place for young people to congregate. Families and older folks pulled in the front curb stalls. They ordered full meals or desserts, consumed them, and left. Teens, on the other hand, pulled in a space on the back curb. A going-steady pair, first daters, and double-date couples backed in cars and sometimes spent hours there. Rarely did they order meals. Sporadic orders of French fries, cheeseburgers, and drinks kept the owners from demanding that loitering teens leave.  

A car filled with boys would make the circuit from one restaurant to another in search of girls, and sometimes one male would muster up enough courage to speak to females in the other car. Drugs might have been popular with a few, but most teens were forever in pursuit of alcohol. They’d pay exorbitant prices to of-age guys for beer or hard liquor. Parked in that back curb, many held their breaths while sipping on beer. Sometimes a rookie would bolt from the car and run for the edge of the property. There he’d heave his guts out in a drunken stupor.  

On occasion, tempers flared. Guys piled out of cars and stood as if ready for battle. Most of the time, only two would engage in fistfights. They lasted only a few minutes before the victor strutted in front of his friends while the loser slinked to his vehicle and demanded his group to leave.  

I think of teens today and feel sorry for them. Too many of them don’t have a place to gather with friends or other couples. They spend more time on phones texting or at home playing games. My generation always had a place to go. Those drive-ins were much like the bar in “Cheers,” not because of the drinking but because they were places where “everybody knew your name.” 

Yes, I’d like to own a drive-in restaurant for young people. After having spent months in isolation. I think the place would be crowded all weekend long. On other nights, the place could cater to families and old folks. Maybe I might even start a new “old” fad. I’d run the place for a couple of years before selling it and living off the profits.  Think about those days if you’re old enough. Remember the good and bad times you had with buddies and girlfriends, and I’ll bet many of them occurred at the Copper Kettle or one of the other hangouts.  

The 60’s were glorious years, and thanks to drive-ins, many of us lived some of our best memories at those greasy spoon places. I’m a wiser person about friends, girls, and drinking from the time I spent there. I learned on which friends I could count; I discovered that my forte was not charming females; most of all, I faced that fact that I am a lousy drinker who spent too much time at the edge of the property on hands and knees and telling the good lord I’d never do it again if He’d make the world stop spinning and the dry heaves end. 

SURPRISED BY OUR AGE

 I called an old friend not long ago to see how he was doing and if he and his wife had completed their vaccinations against this cursed virus that’s plagued us for over a year. He assured me that all is well and he would soon receive both shots and be in good shape.  

Doug Meister and I have been friends for a long time. In fact, I’m never quite sure what year he arrived in Knoxville to become the associate minister at First Christian Church. This guy with long hair, a beard and a gravelly voice was an unlikely candidate for a friend. He hailed from Ohio. He received his ministerial degree from, of all places, Vanderbilt. In fact, the man is a fan of Ohio and Vanderbilt sports.  

Both of us were in our 30’s when Doug arrived in Knoxville. The more we talked, the better friends we became. One year, Doug formed a church softball team and convinced me to play. I told him that I wasn’t able to run, partially due to an ankle that had been broken several times and on which I had had two surgeries.  

That ball team sealed our friendship. We practiced and enticed others to join us. Our team molded itself into one that won its fair share of games. After every game, we headed to Roger’s, the best place to eat fantastic hotdogs and drink a beer. We spent plenty of time just talking about all sorts of things. Sometimes, I’d ask him a religious question and hold on tight as I tried to follow his scholarly answer.  

Doug left FCC to take a position as a regional minister, and then he moved to Louisville, Kentucky to be the senior minister. It was there that Doug found Diane, and they married. His bride is a wonderful person, but she has pulled him farther away from ever being a Big Orange fan. They are dedicated Louisville fans. It’s so sad.  

OLD MOVIES FORETELL THE FUTURE

 I am a movie fan. If I could, I’d go every week to see a new one. A “film,” as it’s called in the production world, is one of the few things that can keep me in my seat for longer than half an hour.  

What I like even better are old movies. What I’m talking about are the ones that came out in the 80’s-90’s, ones like “Lethal Weapon” and “Die Hard.” Just last night, I surfed stations and found “Demolition Man.” The movie came out in 1993, It was set in the future where Big Brother was everywhere. Who would have ever guessed that such an old movie could speak to us in the present?  

I’m not “woke,’ nor do I care to be. Change for change’s sake, shaming for not thinking like the crowd, and tongue lashing for using incorrect words irritate me. Most of all, the failure to use any common sense drives me into apoplectic fits. “Demolition Man” is a movie that revels in making fun of all the “cool” things of today. Every curse word is assessed a ticket by listening stations throughout the city. Two characters from the 20th century who have been placed in frozen states while their brains are taught new ways to act are arch enemies who curse, take tickets, and wad them up. The vocabulary of this new world excludes any words that might hurt another person’s feelings. Their conversations lack life and emotion. 

The entire society is a nonviolent one. Even the police are nonviolent in their arrests. They explain to suspects why they are being arrested, and then violators submit and go with the officers. What a wonderful world that might be, but only if people give up crimes altogether, something that is not going to happen. Freedom of choice automatically comes with the knowledge that some will opt to do the wrong thing. A well-trained, but compassionate, police force is vital for a successful society. 

Food in this futuristic movie takes a funny twist. Fast food chains battle for supremacy, and Taco Bell won. It became the only restaurant in this world. Now, I love TB on occasion, but it’s not the place I want to visit for a special event.  

In a satiric twist, the use of salt is bad for people; therefore, it is banned. I’m not sure how they managed to make tacos and burritos without that secret ingredient, and I’m glad I don’t have to eat the stuff. 

All sorts of people are telling us about the terrible things that we eat and instructing us to cut out so many of them. I like vegetables, but my diet also consists of red meat, processed foods, and dairy products. Sometimes, I over-indulge, but I try to practice moderation. My parents used to ban certain foods because they weren’t good for us boys, but I’m not living in a society that tells me what I can and can’t eat.  

Many other scenes in “Demolition Man” remind me of the goofy things our world sometimes tries to pull on us. I know that the future will bring changes that will be for the good of others. I suppose I’m too much like the two characters who are unfrozen and dropped into that alternate universe. Now is what I have, and I like it fine, warts and all. If others want to be woke or prejudice or elitist, so be it. I’ll settle for waking up in the morning without aching everywhere. 

BASEBALL TIME

 I’m back in the baseball watching business again. Yes, just a few weeks ago I said that I was stepping away from sports for a while. However, that was before UT’s team began its season and put on several exciting exhibitions of grit, determination, and talent. Things also have changed since my brother’s grandson Caden Rector began his senior season at Bearden.  

I have to admit that something inside of me changes when baseball starts each year. Maybe the return of warm weather makes being outside at the ballpark exciting. I do know that the abilities of individual players to throw a baseball at 90-plus miles per hour seem almost superhuman. Even more unbelievable is that players use a slender piece of wood, see with Superman eyes, and smack that streaking objects 400-plus feet. Defensive players can move with grace and agility to stop ground balls or snatch them from the air.  

For the past couple of years, it’s been fun to watch Tennessee play ball. As much as anything, each year’s team makes significant improvements, and that gives hope to Vol fans that before long they will be able to book tickets to the SEC tournament and possibly see the orange and white in regional games.  

I love to watch Caden play ball. For one thing, he reminds me of his dad when he was playing. Both love the game and have inherited skills from their mother’s/grandmother’s side of the family to be good ball players. I remember Caden being unsteady on his feet as a toddler, but he swung a plastic bat at balls his dad or Papaw threw. He fell into deep concentration as he swung, but a smile streamed across his face when he made contact with that ball.  

I plan to watch more games this year during Caden’s senior season simply because he will be the last male in our family who is playing ball. He’s not my immediate family, but just the same, any ball game is better when there is a connection with one of the players. My hope is that Caden has a fantastic year, one that he can remember for the rest of his life. That would be a good way to end his high school years.  

RENEWED ENERGY

Can you feel that new excitement? Are you being flooded with a new energy that’s lain dormant for many months? Is a new pep in your step noticeable to everyone? If you’re like me, all of these things are true because Daylight Savings Time arrived this past Sunday.  

I’ve always been a morning person. Mother would come to our bedroom door and wake me with instructions to get my grumpy brother out of the bed as well. No, I didn’t arrive at high school on time, but that wasn’t because I hadn’t been up for hours. Jim was a bit slow moving in the a.m., and we were called on the carpet when Mother had been advised that we’d been late to school on at least a dozen occasions.  

In college, I took early classes ant tried to be finished with all of them by noon. I then returned to my dorm room and fell into the bed for a nap. Then I’d study for a while, visit my brother Dal and his wife Brenda, watch Johnny Carson, and return for more study time.  

Even during my working years, I was an early bird. I arrived at school usually about an hour early. Sometimes, I’d finish up a set of essays or copy tests for classes. Most of the time, however, was spent knocking around with friends on the staff. 

The part-time jobs I worked in the last few years all required I be on hand at 7:00 a,m., and the mowing I do at a local golf course demands I am there by 6:00 a,m. I don’t mind it though; I finish work and then have the rest of the day to myself.  

This DST helps me to get more things done. Although I give out quicker than I used to, I can still finish mowing the yard, complete with weed eating, by early afternoon. Pressure washing the house, deck, and porch are done before lunch.  

During warm weather, I appreciate DST because it offers us much more time to sit around the pool. On plenty of days, Amy and I move poolside early in the afternoon and stay there until dark or biting bugs run us in. Nothing is more relaxing than sitting in a pool at 10 p.m. as the last of daylight passes.  

After a bleak winter, DST signals that brighter days are just ahead. The gray skies and rain-soaked yards disappear. They are replaced with long, bright days that lift spirits. That will be especially true this year after fighting a pandemic for more than a year. An added bonus will be sharing that extended sunlight with friends with whom we can sit and share food, laughter, and fellowship. 

I’m in a much better mood these days. The Covid-19 vaccinations have a great deal to do with that. In addition, nature is taking on a new look with new buds and flowers and critters. I love them all, with the exception of the rabbits that drive our poor dog Sadie to the brink of insanity. It’s important for us all to have extra sunlight time to finish jobs or just have some time with families outside. After the past month of dealing with a deadly pandemic, we all deserve a little extra outside time. I am one person who would urge our elected officials to vote to keep Daylight Savings Time year-round.   

A BETTER PLAN

 In the past couple of months, vaccinations for Covid-19 have increased. At this point, a third of the country has received protection that will enable them to safely be around others. Most Americans are excited, but the process of getting vaccinated has been rather difficult. 

People have spent hours on computers to find sites that offer the shots. Amy and I traveled to Tazwell to receive our first ones. The days was sunny and warm and perfect for a drive. Still, I’d rather have gone to the mountains or visited some spot other than the parking lot of a Tazwell pharmacy.  

Another downfall of the program is that the first folks to receive shots have been the elderly. I’m not in that group yet, but I’m not that far away from it. Too many of those folks either don’t access to a computer or don’t have a clue how to travel through the difficult instructions for registering for an appointment. In many cases, they waged war with the process only to discover the time they were trying to reserve had already been taken.  

The first weeks of vaccination were a nightmare. Folks received them unless the supply ran out. In other places, tangled lines of traffic spilled from parking lots and onto highways. Some places were as bad as Friday afternoon after-work traffic. Amazingly, most folks were patient about the snarls because they knew what awaited them. Being protected against a pandemic eases the sting of a long line of traffic or even that of the needle injecting the lifesaving and life-altering vaccine. 

The federal government used to be good at this sort of thing. I remember when the polio vaccines came out. My family left church and went to the old Karns High School. Along with hundreds of others, we stood in lines that snaked around the building. Eventually, we arrived at the tables where we were handed a sugar cube laced with the medicine that would protect us from such a horrible disease.  

I think that the government should contact a business to handle the next massive vaccination, one that prevents the deaths of thousands or more lives. The business that I have in mind is Chick-fil-A. 

Have you ever visited this fast-food place? Lines of cars circle the building all times of the day. However, that line moves at almost warp speed, and customers place orders and pick them up quickly. Chick-fil-A has figured out how to work a crowd and move them along quickly. If the government will send them the vaccines with a mandate to vaccinate every American within 2 months, I have no doubt that the task would be accepted and completed.  

The program is running much more smoothly than it did only a couple of months ago. Amy and I will be getting our second shots at a business no more than a couple of miles from the house. When that second needle delivers its dosages, we will breathe collective sighs of relief and will look toward a future where we can once again travel, visit local businesses, and hug our family and friends. Until then and even afterwards, I hope all of us will use our common sense and continue to wear masks. Good luck on completing this most serious and important personal act.