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Posted 10-09-2008 at 10:58 PM by Bobby J
Updated 10-09-2008 at 10:59 PM by Bobby J
Submitted for: 30A Review Sept-Oct. Issue 2008
This is about my younger brother (Billy Johnson). I spent many years beating him up and thought maybe it was time to pay a little respect. Here is to the coolest cat I know:
One of my first childhood memories is of the day he came home from the hospital. It was a bitter December morning in Rockford Illinois. Snow and ice had overtaken the yard. I know just how cold it was that day because the moment they brought him in all skinny and duck-like wrapped in a blanket, I left and sat on my tricycle in the arctic driveway. How could they have lied to me! For days I had been promised a new brother. That wrinkled little bird was no brother of mine; after all he couldn’t even throw a ball or ride a bike. They were just going to have to take him back and I was going to sit outside until they did.
After a good hour my parents pulled me from the brink of hypothermia and informed me that Billy was staying. It was at that moment that I decided to spend my life punishing him for being my little brother. When we were kids and forced to share a room, I would make Billy sleep closest to the closet, because when the monsters came out at night they would surely eat him first. After all he was the fat one that smelled like cookies. Our childhood became a blur of bruises, bike “accidents” and bone fractures. One time I was working on a basketball spin move and chose Billy to be my opponent. Billy’s job was to NOT move...
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Views 609
Comments 5
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Posted 08-01-2008 at 12:18 AM by Bobby J
August 2008
30A Review
The first time I saw him I was amazed that she would have actually gone to the pound to adopt a mutt. If this was Beverly’s way at getting back at me for a recent fight, it was brilliant!
When I finally broke down and said what was on my mind, which was something like, “Beverly, you win, now bring that damn dog back to the pound where he belongs”. Bev simply told me that Romeo was her new love and I would be the one going if I did not learn to accept him.
They were a package. If I wanted to stay in this relationship, it now included Romeo. Great, we get in a fight, she moves out and when we attempt to make up I have a furry addition. Dr. Phil says you can be happy or you can be right. I chose to be right and now I am cleaning up little doggie do’s everywhere. I not-so secretly despised this dog.
Let me first say I am not much of a dog person and I think it stems from my childhood. I have been attacked three times. Since the attacks, dogs make me nervous. It is really something I can not control and they pick up on it real quick. Growing up I learned to avoid dogs and run faster than all of my friends.
My theory was if I ever had a dog encounter, I could outrun my buddy and the dog would get to him first! I also learned quickly that the best place for me to avoid a dog was in the water. I can darn sure swim faster than even the most skilled Labrador retriever. The next issue I have...
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Views 614
Comments 10
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Posted 06-07-2008 at 06:27 PM by Bobby J
Instructions for living life on 30/A.
written 7/26/2007
30A Review
I hate instructions and pride myself for never reading them. I only purchase floor models to avoid the ever complicated “assembly required, instructions within.” Two years ago, my wife bought me a sweet Garmin GPS for my birthday. I have just now gotten up the courage to attempt to read the instruction booklet. So I drank two triple espressos, ate a bowl of Kashi, and set out to conquer the impossible. To say that the instructions were confusing would be a gross understatement. They read like T. S. Elliot’s The Wasteland. You know, how you should understand what you are reading, but you are just not getting it? Or is that just me? At this point, I am not sure whether I am learning how to program in my address or fly the space shuttle. Frustrated and defeated I put the GPS back in the box and decided to go surfing. The waves were flat (big surprise) so I surfed instead on my favorite local website SoWal.com. The title of one of the threads was “Simple Instructions on 30/A”. Eureka! That is what instructions should be, simple. No intricate codes or indexed acronyms but common sense. Life on 30/A is simple. So are the guidelines for living here. If you are on vacation, here are some simple instructions to make your stay safe, and enjoyable. If you are a resident, here are some reminders as to why you moved here in the first place. Feel free to join me on SoWal.com to add a few of...
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Views 663
Comments 3
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Posted 05-20-2008 at 07:59 PM by Bobby J
Updated 05-20-2008 at 08:01 PM by Bobby J
written 9/2006
Thirty A Review
My nephew Randal thinks that I am a hero. No, not just any hero, he thinks that I am a Superhero. I tell him that a real Superhero wears tights and a red cape; he says a wet suit and red surfboard are close enough. I explain that a real Superhero is noted for feats of courage and nobility, he says he doesn’t care. When he looks up at me and grins you can bet I let him believe what ever he wants. I guess it is all about perspective. I may see myself as an “old guy” scared that my knees aren’t going to last until the next big Atlantic swell, but to Randal, I am ageless and fearless.
I have been thinking about perspective, especially when it comes to this beautiful island paradise that we call 30/A. I see realtors and investors leaving this area because they see it as being another victim of the so-called “real-estate bubble.” Every Monday my phone rings with questions about the state of the market…“Did you hear about St. Joe”? “What about River Walk”? “What’s up with all these real estate signs?” They are saying that there is no money to be made here and the market is dead. People are actually giving up and running for the hills (or the Mississippi coast). I however, think that it is all a matter of perspective.
As I see it, this area has been very good to all of us. Realtors, investors and developers have made barrels of money off of it. I joke about becoming an order taker. Heck, there were times I...
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Views 778
Comments 5
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Posted 05-18-2008 at 10:19 AM by Bobby J
Updated 05-18-2008 at 10:25 AM by Bobby J
written for 30A review Oct. 2007
On my way home from work the other day, I passed a truck with my desk strapped to the back of it. At first glance, I thought I was being robbed. I quickly called The Better Half to see who had broken into our house. After just one ring, she answered the phone with her normal chipper voice, “Hiya Honey…you will never guess what I just did….” I knew instantly that that my beloved desk had fallen victim to the infamous Beverly Johnson Donate to a Good Cause Foundation. There really isn’t such a foundation, but she has given so much of my stuff away “To Good Cause” that I had to create a name for it. I think the name The Stealth Donator is also appropriate because she strikes without warning and nothing is safe, or sacred. One time she admits attempting to donate one of the kids to a couple struggling with fertility, “We have three and they have none she tried to explain. It is simple math!” Personally I think she was just mad at them for watching too much TV, or not doing the dishes. I drew a line in the sand, no donating kids or surfboards. She reluctantly agreed. All kidding aside, The Better Half has taken the term “Charity Begins at Home” to heart, and has made it her philosophy of life.
I should have known it was coming. Just three months after I proposed to her with a pair of platinum diamond rings, she actually gave her wedding ring to my brother. (Seriously, this is a true story; I couldn’t make this up if I tried) She...
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Views 699
Comments 5
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