Month: October 2005

  • THE PENNY ROLLERS


     



    The year was 1970, It was my first day of Jr. High School and I was scared to death. I couldn’t find my locker, the upperclassmen were handing out “elevator passes” in our single story school, and I was pretty certain the “Mod Squad” lunch pail my mom had bought me was going to get my ass kicked.


     


    At the Central Jr. High School in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, all students who arrived early were required to go to the gymnasium and wait for the bell that would dismiss us to go to our first class. Boys had to sit on one side of the gym and girls were required to sit on the other side. To this day, I can’t figure out what kind of trouble they thought we were going to get into if the two sexes were allowed to mingle for those 15 minutes prior to class.


     


    It was on that first day of school that I became acquainted with the penny rollers.


     


    Every morning, some unfortunate teacher was assigned the duty of monitoring the gymnasium. On occasion they would step outside for a few minutes, and it was during those brief unsupervised moments that the penny rollers began their game.


     


    There was a small, dark haired, unkempt boy who attended my school whose name, I later learned, was Nathan. Whenever the teacher stepped out of the room, a small group of boys would begin rolling pennies across the gym floor and Nathan would scurry after them, picking them up and putting them into his pockets, while peels of laughter came from both sides of the gym.


     


    No one seemed to know much about Nathan. Some kids said that his mother was dead. It was common knowledge, though, that his father sold junk for a living. You would often see Nathan riding around town with his father in a beat up old pickup loaded with refuse like a real life “Sanford and Son.” It was obvious that Nathan was poor; not the kind of poor that meant you couldn’t buy the latest fashions, but the kind of poor that made you willing to trade your dignity for a few pennies every morning.


     


    The penny rollers continued their game for the next three school years. On occasion, when they caught Nathan in a restroom, they would throw coins in the commodes to see if he would fish them out. Often he did.


     


    Nathan was in my ninth-grade algebra class. One day we had a substitute teacher who began class by calling roll. When he called Nathan’s name I heard a timid voice behind me say “here”. The sound of his voice startled me; not because it had an unusual timbre but because in that moment I realized I had known Nathan for three years and this was the first time I had ever heard him speak. As I thought about it, it began to make sense. After all, what do you say to people who routinely humiliate you for entertainment?


     


    I patted myself on the back because I had never been guilty of rolling pennies, but I also knew I had never done anything to stop them either.


     


    Earlier today I pulled up to an intersection and saw a man with a “will work for food” sign sitting beside the traffic light. The car in front of me was filled with teenagers. As they pulled up to the light they dumped out all of the empty fast food wrappers they had in their car and yelled “here you go” to the man with the sign. For a few seconds I was back in Jr. High, watching pennies roll across a gym floor.


     


    Nathan, I’m sorry.

  • THE “BOOB” TUBE


    I’m sure you’re all familiar with the classic movie “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington”. Well, a truly perverse twist on this theme will be coming to a TV near you next spring. It’s called “Anna Nicole Smith goes to the Supreme Court”.


    The entire world responded with drop jawed, WTF amazement last week when the Supreme Court announced that it would hear the case: Vickie Lynn Marshall v. E. Pierce Marshall.


    “Vickie Lynn” is apparently Anna’s pre-stripper, pre-playboy-centerfold name and I personally think it embodies all of the quaint midwestern innocence and charm that we’ve come to expect from Anna.


    I’m actually quite glad that the Supreme Court has decided to hear her appeal for a couple of reasons.


    First, it will be interesting to hear the case. I’ll be the first to admit that Anna has two very formidable “arguments” but does she actually have a case?  It’s really just a standard probate case but the sordid details will be fascinating. Anna will claim that she truly loved oil tycoon J. Howard Marshall II, and the fact that he was 89 and she was 26 when they got married simply proves that May-December romances are a sacred thing. G. Eric Brunstad Jr., the Yale Law School professor who represents Marshall‘s son will claim that the slutty vixen manipulated a sick, lonely, old man into promising her his fortune.


    Here’s my take: A man who amasses hundreds of millions of dollars in the oil business is not likely to be a man who is easily manipulated regardless of his age. I’m sure he never thought for a second that Anna actually loved him. He simply figured out a way to have the 1993 Playmate of the Year be his nursemaid and “companion” for several years without to having to pay for it until he died.


    He is my hero.


    I only hope he was so deaf he didn’t have to listen to her talk.


    Secondly, it will be a great case for our new Chief Justice to cut his teeth on (so to speak). Justice Roberts made it through the confirmation hearings without ever directly answering a question which proves that he has had a great deal of experience when it comes to the time honored traditions men exercise when communicating with women.  During the hearings, Roberts was fond of using baseball analogies when talking about how he would render decisions. Perhaps he will continue to employ them when he writes an opinion on this case. An example: “Anna hit a line drive of love and affection as she made her play for J. Howard Marshall II. She shouldn’t be called out simply because he had to be retired early in the game. She did not balk when pitching woo with J. Howard and therefore is entitled to the salary associated with a free agent. I also believe her when she says she never once used steroids to enhance her physical attributes.”


    Only in America.

  • As I drove into our church parking lot this morning, I looked up and saw the sign that announces the name of our congregation. On the marquee below the sign someone from the church had posted:


     


    We reserve the right


    to accept everybody


     


    I smiled and thought about how nice it would be if religion was actually more often an avenue for tolerance than a thinly veiled excuse for hate.


     


    Then I sighed and parked my car.