Thinking Out Loud, Volume CDLIII

Today's topic is.....well....uh...okay, it's a man's perspective about a certain part of the female anatomy. Do I now have your attention? If you will read all the way to the end before you write me off as a dirty old man, you'll understand more clearly my reasons for discussing this subject. My goal is to be as brutally honest and as directly to the point as possible. Here goes: No doubt, when a little girl is about to the age to where she begins to change from a girl to a woman, she looks in the mirror every day, watching for some little bumps to appear on her chest. In a public setting, we usually refer to them as breasts, although we have an almost endless supply of other names for them, such as boobs, tits, hooters, etc. There have been times when I've seen an individual with long hair, and at first it was difficult to determine if it was male or female, so I looked to see if there were some boobs present. Every woman wants them, and every man loves them. Women want it to be evident that they're there under their clothing, yet the actual breasts are extremely personal, to the point that they are kept hidden from everyone except their husbands. We can discuss breasts in general with anyone, like I'm doing now, but we're not supposed to mention any individual woman's breasts, due to their personal nature. For example, I can say, "I like that dress you're wearing," or "You have beautiful hair," or maybe even, "Your skin tone is gorgeous," but it would not be appropriate for me to say, "Hey, nice boobs." They're a beautiful part of a woman, and they're as varied in appearance as the women are themselves. Some women have had surgical procedures to make them bigger, while others have had breast reduction operations, although I'm not aware of any situations where breast size kept any young lady from attracting a mate. However, we men do appreciate women who try hard to make themselves as beautiful as possible, and breasts are definitely a part of that equation. Now to my point: There's one aspect on this topic that I find alarming! I've already mentioned the extremely personal and private nature of women's breasts, but there is becoming a much too frequent occurrence when individual women's breasts are becoming a topic of conversation of everyone who knows her, and it appears to be especially prevalent in Northeast Louisiana, where I live. What self respecting lady wants her breasts to be discussed in the living rooms of all her neighbors? But that's exactly what happens when a woman hears that dreadful news, "You have breast cancer." Suddenly that part of her that adds so much to her attractiveness and beauty becomes a source of distress, anguish and fear. She then begins to worry that in the eyes of those around her, she will seem less feminine and will be missing part of what makes her a woman. We men don't see it that way. We're distressed to hear the news, and all we want is for you to get well, whatever it takes. I can name several women who have come through that awful ordeal with such courage and grace that I actually end up having a higher opinion of them. We hate it for you when you have to have one of your "girls" removed, but it can be replaced with a new one that looks just as good. Yes, ladies, I admit, we LIKE your boobs, but we LOVE you, and we just want you well. Believe me....we're on your side on this one. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CDLII

At what point should a person say, "Okay, this part of my life is over?" I can remember famous athletes who decided to retire while they were still at the top of their game, while others stayed on well past their prime, literally to the point to where they rarely saw any action. Which one made the most wise decision? Maybe that answer depends on each individual's frame of mind and his ability to face reality. A few weeks ago as I turned on the TV and started flipping channels, I landed on a station where a very popular singer of the late 60s and early 70s was performing. Since that's my era and I knew most of the songs he used to sing, I stopped to listen. I'm not sure how old he is now, but since he was already big when I was in high school, I assume he's a few years older than I am. He was doing one of his old hits, but when he reached the part of the song where there are some high notes, his voice cracked and he went a little flat. Been there and done that! I really felt bad for him, but I also thought, "Hey man, it's time to face facts and let it go." As I think about a person's ability to face reality, I realize all of us will reach the point where we'll have no choice in the matter. We'll face it whether we want to or not. The question is, will we make the decision on our own as to when it happens, or will we wait for others to tell us. It seems to me that there are really no good options there, yet I'd rather decide for myself than to wait for another person to point it out to me....assuming I'll still have all my mental facilities. I've recently had to face one of those realities in my life, but for now, most of those decisions are still ahead of me. When will I have to retire? When it's time for me to stop driving, will I be able to make that decision, or will someone else do it for me? It's known as the cycle of life. We're all here on a temporary basis because aging is a natural process, and no amount of Botox or hair dye can stop it. I'm doing my best to stay fit and healthy, yet for you, me, and everybody else, the clock keeps ticking and the time of those decisions is rushing toward us. As for me, I feel that my best bet is to keep an open mind and always be ready to look reality square in the face, because if I don't, someone else will. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CDLI

In my line of work I have to have several suitcases to use for my samples. I don't know if you've priced luggage lately, but what I've seen is ridiculous! My frustration has caused me to go against my own philosophy, and not practice what I have preached. I've violated my principles and gone to the big discount stores to try to save a few bucks, but even there the prices are outrageous, and I consider myself lucky if they last through two seasons without a broken zipper, messed-up wheels, or a handle that's stuck either open or closed. I was complaining about it to one of my clients, and he reminded me about something I already knew: I come out cheaper in the long run if I go with better quality; so when I bought my next one, I paid more than double what I had been paying, and went with LL Bean, and bought a suitcase that's guaranteed for life. The difference in the way it handles, the quality of the zipper, and the overall appearance of the item is very noticeable. In the past few years, I have developed an appreciation for quality that I didn't have as a younger man. Before, I went by how an item looked on the rack. For instance, in the store, the difference in the quality of two shirts may not be as apparent as it is once they've been worn and washed a couple times. When they're hanging on the rack, we don't see the collar not laying flat, the buttons not staying buttoned, the color running, or the holes that just appear in the fabric. That cheap belt hanging on the rack may look nice, and the label may even say "Genuine Leather," but in most cases the actual leather is as thin as paper, and will crack and peel after it has been worn three or four times. I'm well aware of the temptation to head to the big discount store when finances are tight, but it's the worst thing a person can do. I've often thought about how poor people end up paying more than their more affluent neighbors pay for most things. The affluent pay their utility bills on time and avoid late charges. The affluent pay the entire balance on their credit cards every month and avoid big interest charges. The affluent put better tires on their cars and get more mileage from them. The affluent put better faucets on their sinks, and never have to replace them. The affluent buy better clothes that look good longer and last longer, cutting back on how often they have to buy new ones. There are a lot of stores that sell quality brands at reduced prices. The way they do it is by purchasing last years styles from the manufacturers, but they still look good and the quality is still there. Also, the regular stores will often have some great buys at the end of a season if the regular prices are unaffordable. Just like most everyone, I prefer buying quality, but I had a temporary mental lapse when I was constantly having to purchase new luggage. I've now recovered my senses and started buying quality again, and I remember that always buying the cheapest of anything will NOT save me money. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CDXLIX

Some days I feel good....like I'm on top of the world. Then there are days when I feel like the world is on top of me and I'm nothing but a loser. I must say though that when it seems like everything I do is wrong, all I have to do is look at my two kids and I have to admit that I did some things right. I often think back to the days before our kids came along and marvel at how different our lifestyle was then, compared to the way it became once we became parents. When I see young couples who are expecting their first child, I say to myself, "Their whole world is about to change." One of the first things people usually mention when a new baby appears on the scene is the loss of freedom, and that is definitely a factor, but as far as I'm concerned, the positives drastically outweigh the negatives. There is no doubt in my mind that I'm a better man today because of my kids. I'll never forget that day when our first one was born and how suddenly my entire mindset changed. I became a more careful driver, because of such fragile, precious cargo. I became more aware of my actions and the things I say, because there were some little eyes watching and some little ears hearing everything I did and said. The weight of the awesome responsibility I had suddenly made itself known as I realized it was up to me which direction this new little life would take, and it would be determined more by the way I lived than by the words I spoke. Would my kids grow up serving God and loving their fellow man? I could've preached that to them every day of their lives, but until they saw me practicing what I preached, it would've had little impact on them. The interaction between their mother and myself was, in their minds, the norm. The way Charlie saw me treating his mother was the only example he had as to how to treat his wife. Valerie grew up expecting her husband to treat her the same way I treated her mother. When Charlie was a little boy, I would take him to big sporting events, and I spent a lot of time with him playing ball, etc., and it warms my heart when I now see him doing the same with his son. I'll never forget a note Valerie wrote to her mother one day, saying she wanted to take piano lessons, because she wanted to sing and play like her daddy. (How is it that I taught Charlie to play golf and Valerie to sing, and both of them are now so much better than I am?) There's a level of love that can't be explained when a new baby is added to a family. There's a reason I chose today as the day to write on this topic. I've already told you how Angie's and my world was rocked and how drastically our lives changed for the better when we became parents, and today, January 2, 2015, is a special anniversary of this event. For Angie and me, our lives were forever transformed, forty years ago today, with the birth of our first child. Happy birthday, Valerie! I am so proud of the woman you have become. You are beautiful both inside and out. It makes me so happy to see your walk with God, and your heart for the disadvantaged is almost beyond comparison. I love you in a way that only a daddy can love his little girl. This is going to be a big year for you and JC. Love, Dad. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CDXLVIII

I'm walking toward the door of the Coffee House, and the reflection in the window alerts me to the fact that a woman is right behind me, heading for the same door. I know what to do. It's second nature to me, because I was taught as a little boy how to act in that situation....I grab the handle, pull the door open, then step aside and hold it for the lady, letting her enter ahead of me. I was taught through all my formative years how a gentleman is supposed to treat a lady, and I still adhere to those rules, even though I'm not sure if they still hold true today. The way I've done it has worked well for me down through the years. Usually the lady will smile and say "Thank you," although occasionally she will walk through the door without acknowledging me, but I can also recall a couple times when the woman rudely informed me she preferred opening the door herself without my help. So here's my question: Do the younger women of this new millennium still like it when gentlemen hold doors open for them? As a husband and a dad to women, it would be unthinkable for me to be okay with a man who is performing equal work with my wife or daughter to be paid more than they are just because he's a man. I have no problem voting for a woman, as long as her political views match mine. I could be happy working on a job where a woman was my boss. My teacher in my Community Group at church is a woman whom I deeply respect and love, and I thoroughly enjoy her teaching. I guess my point is I believe in gender equality, and I believe major decisions in our home should be made by both of us jointly. It is my opinion that men in general, me included, desire to treat women the way they want to be treated, but it's those few who are so vocal about not wanting us to open the door for them, etc. that make us uncomfortable and unsure how to treat ladies. What if the tragedy of the "Titanic" happened today instead of more than one hundred years ago? Assuming that just as then, there would be an insufficient number of lifeboats, would it still be proper to have the rule about making sure all the women and children were able to board the lifeboats before any men could board? Would it still be considered shameful for any man to try to sneak on board a lifeboat before all the women had a chance? I wonder if the woman who doesn't want me opening a door for her would refuse when I stepped aside and offered her the chance to get on a lifeboat ahead of me. I've discussed this matter from time to time with female friends and family members, and I've concluded that practically all of them still want gentlemen to treat them like ladies in practically the same way it's been done for generations. Ladies should be treated with the dignity and respect they deserve, as equal creatures with men, yet with just a little special treatment simply because they're ladies. There's nothing wrong, disrespectful, or demeaning about telling a lady how nice she looks as long as she is also respected for the intelligent creature she is. That's how I feel, but then I'm "old school." Here's hoping the "new school" feels the same. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CDXLVII

Looking ahead from a distance, I thought it was a police car on the shoulder, checking for speeders. As I got closer, I noticed there was more than one car parked next to the highway, and it was obvious they weren't cops. The vehicles were sitting across the road and directly in front of a big house, and there were two or three people standing around. However, before I get to the story of what was going on, I probably should tell you about the house. I've seen it a few times before. Simply saying it is a big house is a vast understatement. A more accurate description would be it is a huge mansion. It's a giant 2-story home sitting back about a tenth of a mile off the highway with a lawn that is at least ten acres. The building, as well as the entire piece of property, is always kept in immaculate condition, and I've never passed that way when the lawn wasn't well manicured. The estate is surrounded by a beautiful fence. Just inside the yard, all along the fence, is a row of beautiful, old pecan trees, and the trees line both sides of the driveway up to the home. The space between the fence and the highway is kept just as well as the yard. I have no idea who lives there, but whoever it is, they are apparently people of immense wealth. Now to the people who were parked beside the road in front of the house: Their cars were, for lack of a better term, old rattle traps. Although I've never seen the residents of that fine home, there is no doubt about the stark contrast as to the social status of them and the folks outside the fence. You see, those big pecan trees along the front fence have some limbs that hang over the fence, just above the grassy area between the fence and the highway. The visitors had what looked like old pillow cases, and they were filling them with pecans. It was apparent the homeowners had no problem with their less fortunate neighbors helping themselves to a few pecans. It didn't hurt their bottom line one iota. You and I fall somewhere between the two extremes I saw on that Texas highway, yet I have no doubt that we have something we can give to the needy that won't hurt us one bit. I've recently been made aware of a family that had nothing, and the definition of "nothing" is "not anything." It has opened my eyes to just how fortunate I am, when I really hadn't realized it before. I've thrown things away that some people not far from me would love to have. It brings a whole new meaning to the old adage "One man's trash is another man's treasure." As I talk to friends, I'm amazed at how they actually want to give, but, just like me, their circle of friends and influence are not the ones who are desperately in need, and we just don't know who they are. I didn't even know about the family I mentioned, but when someone else told me about them, it made me think about things I have around my house that's just in my way since I've replaced them with newer styles, yet those people were having to do without those very items. I'm not asking for help for that family.....they're now being taken care of. Nor do I intend to make it sound like I'm trying to apply pressure for anyone else to start giving away their "stuff." I'm of the opinion that pressured giving is not real giving....it's more like someone else "taking." I also realize that some of the "have nots" are in that condition due to bad life choices, but my answer to that is "let he who is without sin cast the first stone." We've all made some bad choices. No, I don't know much about that well-to-do family in south Texas, but I do like the fact that, if they wanted, they could stop the poor from taking pecans from their property....after all, how does it make their place look with all those old cars hanging around their front yard....yet they seem to welcome them there. I understand that you and I don't have the kinds of resources that family has, but I'll bet we have something we can give that won't hurt us a bit, just like giving those pecans didn't hurt that family. Every year about this time, I try to send out a reminder to everyone who may WANT to give, but we just don't know anyone in need. If we think about it though, we can think of sources of information as to who is truly in dire straits. What better way is there to celebrate the birth of Christ than to follow His example, because after all, no one gave more than He gave. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CDXLI

There were some who blamed that new young preacher for instigating much of this pack of trouble, and it's entirely possible that sure enough he may have been at least partly at fault. There's just no way to prove it now. It's a known fact there was tension between the new preacher and the old preacher. The old preacher, Rev. Francis Dane, was about sixty-five years old when some members of his congregation expressed their concern that he was getting too old to lead a church, and should be replaced with a younger pastor. When the new preacher arrived, the church stopped the salary of Rev. Dane. When he appealed that decision, they decided to split the new preacher's salary, giving the older man 37.5% of what he had previously been making and taking it from the younger man's salary. Naturally, this decision pleased no one, and that's where the animosity began. It was right after those events that Rev. Francis Dane; his two daughters, Elizabeth (Betty) Dane Johnson and Abigail Dane Faulkner; and his daughter in law, Deliverance Hazeltine Dane, found themselves as defendants in the Salem Witch Trials in 1692. Although Francis Dane never had to go to trial, his daughters and daughter in law were convicted and sentenced to death. During the trials, some of the women of the town who were called as witnesses would begin writhing and exhibiting all kinds of contortions, and claiming they were under spells cast on them by the defendants. One witness's writhing took her under the table where Abigail was sitting, and when she touched Abigail's leg, the contortions stopped. The witness then claimed that touching her was the only remedy to the writhing. Abigail's two daughters were also charged, and they both pleaded guilty and implicated their mother in the charges. It is believed that Abigail instructed them to do so, attempting to place all the blame on herself. This was done in an effort to spare the lives of her daughters. All this time, Rev. Dane was working behind the scenes to put a stop to all the nonsense. Although at first, Rev. Barnard, the young preacher, was a big proponent of the trials, he too eventually came out against them. In the end, none of the Dane family lost their lives over the incident, although there were others who weren't so fortunate. The governor of Massachusetts ended up stopping the executions, and all the members of the Dane family were pardoned except Deliverance Dane, who never had her name cleared. I've known about the Salem Witch Trials since I studied American history in the seventh grade, but I never really thought that much about them until the past few weeks. You may be wondering what could possibly have suddenly stirred my interest in events that happened more than three hundred years ago. Here's the reason: I've just learned that I am a great (X9) grandson of Francis Dane, through his daughter, Elizabeth Johnson, one of the accused....down through my mom's side of the family. I've always thought the whole Salem Witch Trials episode was a farce, but now that I know it was my own family who was on trial, I'm CERTAIN it was. Hey, don't mess with my family!!!! I'll put a spell on you. Preston