All good things

...must end.

My quartet was dealt a mortal blow this evening. Joe, the baritone, who essentially founded the quartet, and was the most seasoned warrior called me to tell me he was quitting.

I am disappointed, but not suprised. Things have been brewing as of late and I knew he was not happy. He learned tonight that he was getting moved to second shift on a permanent basis. I don't know if this was the reason, or the last straw. What I do know, is that I don't know if I want to try to continue without him.

The quartet meant so much to me. But this is now just another in a long string of disappointments.

I will do what I always do, and that is grit my teeth and go on.

Troubador

Just a quickie

Hi all. Sorry I haven't written much lately but it seems I am having trouble adjusting to my normal schedule after an entire week (almost) of slovenly self indulgence. To add to the distractions, I woke up to a basement full of water this morning. Oh happy day.

However, just when I think things are pretty shitty, I have to think of my friend Carl. I wrote about him in a previous post; he lost all of his belongings in a hurricane this summer, and is staying in a house that the architects and my father restored for him.

He got a call this weekend, and learned that his best friend had been killed in a motorcycle accident. Carl's friend was riding in the forest in Arkansas. A deer charged out of the thicket and knocked him from his motorcycle. When he hit the ground, his neck snapped, killing him instantly.

My troubles are nothing compared to Carl's.

Pray for my friend. He needs it.

Troubador

From Magical to Mundane

Let me preface this by apologizing if it is disjointed. I have mulled this over for going on three days now and still don't know how to pull my thoughts together so I will just lay them out here and see what happens

I took my family to Disney last week ( which I why I have been quiet here.) We left on Saturday morning and arrived at the hotel Saturday around 4:30. From the very beginning, I had planned this trip so that it could be as care free and worry free as possible. I desperately needed a break from work and all the worries that were here at home, so I couldnt think of a better place to go.

I had been there for the first time about 10 years ago, but that was as a band chaperone, so it was more like a working vacation than a true vacation. Just the same, I was so impressed with the atmosphere and the charm of Disney, that I made it one of my long term goals to bring my family back there someday. After 10 years, we finally did it.

We booked hotels so that we could be on the property, and use all the extra amenities, and we bought a meal plan so that we did not have to worry about what everything cost to eat. We bought airline tickets so that we did not have to drive. We planned this to be the best vacation we ever had, and Disney did not disappoint. I cannot say enough about this place. In four days on the property, I could not find one thing that needed repair, or had graffitti on it. You just did not see cast members with bad attitudes, or who looked bored or put out that you had a question for them. It was like opening day, every day. If you have not gone there, it is one of the things that every person should do at least once before they die.

We took cameras with us and shot more than 400 pictures. I am going to spend a fortune getting all of these printed, but I don't care.

But....and you knew there was a but coming didnt you...I actually came away from the vacation a bit confused, or perhaps introspective is the better word. I have some friends who are positively smitten with the whole Disney thing. Dan worked there at one time. His dream is to be an animator for Disney. He has Disney wall paper, Disney household accessories, like ice trays, and puts up a separate Christmas tree for all his Disney ornaments. Ernie is a store manager for the Disney store. He admits that he does not make much money, and that the franchise does not treat him well, but for reasons that he can't or won't explain, he will not leave for a better job. I always felt that they both were a bit looney.

Until now.

I guess it really started Saturday morning when we got to the park. We had reservations for a character breakfast, and were allowed into the park early. ( Magic Kingdom) I had been told by Dan and Ernie, that they would not have Christmas decorations up yet because they wait until after Thanksgiving. They were both wrong. All the scene needed was a little bit of snow, and it would have put Currier and Ives to shame. Add to that having Cinderella's castle as a back drop, and it was like stepping into a Christmas card or a fairy tale. Things got even better from there.

We spent Sunday in the Magic Kingdon, Monday at MGM, and most of Tuesday at Animal Kingdom. A cold front moved through on Monday, and brought some rain with it, so we had not gotten a chance to see the fireworks at Magic Kingdom until Tuesday night.

We lined up at 8:00 for the SpectroMagic parade that kicked off at 9. We had already seen it once, but I made it clear that I was not going home without seeing it again. An hour ahead of the parade, and people were already shoulder to shoulder. We managed to get a spot where the parade turned a corner so it was especially good.

I have been involved with pageantry all of my adult life, coaching marching band and color guard.

I have never seen, or even imagined something like what SpectroMagic parade was. You just have to see it. There is a website called SpectroMagic.com that I will post a link to if I can figure out how, but naturally, it wont give the full impact.

The fireworks display happened at 10:00.

The sky was clear, and the stars were out, and I stood gazing at the display with tears streaming from my eyes.

I still can't explain why.

I am glad it was dark.

I have been homesick many times in my life, but I really cannot remember a time when I regretted leaving where I was, like this time.

Ever since we got back, almost every other thought that has been on my mind has been about how to get back, and how soon.

When we get the pictures burnt to CD, I am going to put a copy in our safe deposit box.

I guess I can't tease Dan and Ernie any more. I am hooked, and I am glad for it.

I can't remember the last time I was that happy for that long, maybe my honeymoon, 13 years ago....

Well, back to the real world now.

Troubador

Just when I thought I had seen it all

So,
after the infamous pre bid this morning, my truck informed me that it needed gas. I drove to the nearest BP station to fill up. I stood outside freezing my ass off and decided that I needed a drink for the trip back to the office. I went into the little store and wandered around till I found a Coke and went to the counter to pay for it. I got to the counter, took one look at the attendant and damn near dropped the coke on the floor.

From the back he looked like your average black man. His hair was in dreads, he looked like he worked out, he was in decent shape, and I noticed an earing. So far so good. As he turned, I noticed that his side burns were longer, and they flared out at the bottom, but no beard. When I saw his face, he wore a goatee. Then I looked at his eyebrows.

(Holds his hand in the air and swears on the Bible). This man? had plucked his eyebrows and painted then back on with mascara, just like your old Aunt Gertrude does. They were very artistic, kind of swirly like the scrollwork on a violin. If he wouldn't have opened his mouth, I might have thought that they were tattoos. He was tooo swishy for tattoos.

Gawd what some people will do.

Peace

My son Joe

For those who might be interested, I will be starting another Blog about my son Joe. We learned over the last year that Joe has a mild to moderate learning disability.

I need a place to write all this down. I will post it shortly.


Troubador

I wonder...

I went to a pre bid meeting this morning. This is when the estimators for companies that interested in bidding on a project get together with the Architect, the Owner, the Engineer, and anyone else that can answer questions about the project. Usually the Architect explains some of the important items of the project, and also goes over anything that is out of the ordinary.

This is usually the only time that estimators are in the same room with each other. I got there a little early and was passing the time doing a little people watching. But I started noticing something. Most of the guys ( there was only one woman) were wearing Dockers. I was wearing jeans. With a hole in the leg. Most were wearing button down shirts. And leather jackets. Most had Palm units, or Treo phones. Three of them had Bluetooth ear pieces that they never took out. All of them were wearing loafer shoes. I had on my work boots, and my Carhartt jacket. And I didn’t have a Treo phone.

The reason for this is not that I cannot afford to buy that stuff. Maybe their companies buy the phones. The reason that I don’t wear Dockers is because I could be called out at any moment to help on a jobsite. Its not uncommon for me to have to walk through mud or water. It makes no sense for me to have those things, because they would get destroyed in a hurry.

But it makes me wonder.
What would it be like to spend my days only working on estimating and scheduling?
What would it be like not to have to listen to Dad bitch when someone else really screws up?
What would it be like to not have to answer accounting questions?
What would it be like to have someone come to me with answers instead of questions?
What would it be like to not be interrupted 42 times a day with questions that are totally not related to what I was doing?
What would it be like to be able to work on some of the projects that I have been delaying for years, like a photo archive of our projects?
What would it be like to actually go to a seminar?
What would it be like to not be at least somewhat responsible for making sure that the MSDS file and the OSHA logs are up to date?
Wouldn’t it be cool to actually have a LAWYER look over contracts before we sign them?
What would it be like to not have to give my truck keys to someone who road his motorcycle to work so that he could go get material at the lumber yard?
What would it be like to not feel that I should intercept the mail to make sure that if there is bad news, I can be the one to break it to Dad.
What would it be like to be able to walk out of the building and not check every door twice?
What would it be like to be able to visit a jobsite and not feel like I have to kick ass and take names?
What would it be like to work with a real computer on a real network?
What would it be like to have weeks of vacation instead of days?
What would it be like to have a pension?
What would it be like to have insurance?
What would it be like to have matching 401k?
What would it be like to have an assistant?
What would it be like to be part of a team instead of being the coach?

I should just stop…this could go on for hours and you are probably sick of my whining by now

Peace

3 days and counting for Orlando

Self Fulfilling Prophesy

I went to the Doctor yesterday. Since I almost never get sick, this was just for a checkup. I have developed high blood pressure over the past few years, so they keep a pretty close eye on me. I got the normal lecture about losing weight. Granted I could stand to lose some, but the chart on the wall says that a man 6’2 is obese if he weighs 220 lbs. When I was working in the field every day, I worked 220. That was over with when I came into the office to straighten out the mess that the lying, thieving, Sunday School Teacher of the Year (I kid you not) left when she went out of here in handcuffs.

Anyway, what I dread more than the weigh in is the blood pressure check. I knew it was going to be high, because things have just gone to shit here at work. The nurse tells me its 160 over 90. 120 over 80 is normal. So I am rewarded with a new, more potent prescription. All in all, I guess things could be worse.

I go and pick my son up and head for the barbershop. We have to get haircuts last night because we are leaving for Orlando on Saturday and there won’t be another opportunity between now and then. There are only two barbers working, and the waiting chairs are full. For some reason, the barbers are in a jovial mood and want to talk and laugh with everyone in the chairs. It takes two hours to get two haircuts.

I go home, and my wife is curled up on the couch watching re runs of Star Gate. My daughter has not eaten yet, because she for some reason hadn’t eaten yet, but she is “staaaarrrrrrvvvvvvviinnnng”. She and Joe decide that they want frozen pizza. I am in no mood to argue. Joe decides to get a shower and by 7:45 every one has finally had dinner.

That’s when I remembered I needed to get the script for the HBP meds filled. So I go back out, in the pouring rain to Kroger Pharmacy. I get to the pharmacy and stand in the drop off line. For 20 minutes. To drop off a freaking prescription. The pharmacy people are scurrying around like a kicked over ant hill and no one is getting a thing done. I drop off the script and wander around the store for a half hour. I can’t think of a more boring place to kill a half hour than at a grocery store.

Finally the prescription is filled and I head for home. It is 9:00. My wife is asleep on the couch. My son is asleep on the living room floor, his head is laying on his text books. Poor kid, I thought. So I woke him up to put him to bed and he freaks. His homework was not finished. So we sit until 10:00 working on homework. By that time, it’s ridiculous. He can’t stay awake, or concentrate so I send him to bed.

I go back to my bedroom, hoping that some laundry or something got done towards getting ready to go to Orlando. Nothing had been touched. So I turn on the TV and watch NYPD Blue while I fold socks. About 11 my wife shows up and announces that she has a splitting headache, and would I please turn the TV off and the light off so she can sleep. So much for spending some quality time together, like it was going to happen anyway, but you can always hope.
So I go out to the computer and chat and read Blogs for a while. I am so wound up that I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to. Finally, at 1 AM and a bowl of butter pecan ice cream, I head to bed.

Oh, we got up at 6 to finish homework. I asked why she didn’t help him with it. She answered that he is a big boy now and should be doing it on his own.

And I wonder why I have high blood pressure.


Troubador

High stakes poker

My wife's side of the family are card players. Whenever we get together, there is always a poker game going on. Last night we celebrated Father in Law's birthday at my house, and the entertainment was, of course, poker. At least for them. My entertainement was watching all the things that went on besides poker, and I learned a lot.

Things I learned:

1. My son, who has more toys than can fit in his room,who has a play station, a bicycle, all sorts of sports equipment, access to 3 televisions, 2 VCRs, 2 DVDs, and two computers, still can't find anything to do.
2. My daughter is a good luck charm, for my Sister in Law.
3. My brother in law has more gray hair than I do.
4. Mannerisms are genetic. My father in law and my wife both squint the same way.
5. All of them spend too much time watching the world series of poker.
6. It does them no good, because I waxed everyone and I would rather watch paint dry than to watch other people play poker.
7. I learned that the local grocery stores no longer carry bread maker mix that is any fun to make
8. I learned that I really like leaving my cell phone at home when I get sent to the grocery store. That way, I can make big boy decisions all by myself.
9. I learned that November 12th is too damned early for the Grinch (my all time favorite Christmas show) to be on TV.
10. I learned that my sister in law can sink to new lows of laziness and self centered ness. My wife and I killed ourselves yesterday to get the house ready for a party that S.I.L. decided we had to have. I learned that S.I.L. was too busy, on her day off to bake a simple batch of cupcakes for her own father's birthday party that she organized. I learned that she could come to my house, eat my food, drink my beer, breathe my air, use my bathroom 32 times, bitch at my kids for being too noisy, complain that the dog was too friendly, and then she needed to borrow money from her dad for her poker losses. On her way out the door, she said "we need to do this more often." Yeah. I am up for that.

Troubador

***Warning- Politically Incorrect***

A thought hit me on the way to work this morning. I was listening to the radio report yet another night of unrest in France. I have been following this story with a lot of interest because part of me thinks that it serves those snotty little bastards right. But then I realized that there is a commonality with something closer to home.
1. Large population of immigrants
2. Excessively liberal, socialist, elitist climate
3. Racist, nationalist, tendencies
4. Very high taxes
5. Very high unemployment
6. Weak government that is dictated to by organized labor
7. Large population of Muslims
8. Society that considers itself progressive to the point of questioning what some people consider moral absolutes
9. Society that worships political correctness.
I could go on and on.

Kind of reminds me of California.


Politically incorrect Troubador

What the funk?

I am in a funk today.

I woke up constantly last night. Even the dog getting up to check the house woke me.

The company got notice from the IRS that I had missed one of the payroll deposit deadlines. It’s not normally my job, but I was filling in for the secretary while she was off on medical leave. This is bothering me a lot.

I have a school athletic committee board meeting tonight. This is such a joke. I never played a single sport when I was a kid. Just not interested. Both my kids run track, so dummy me, when the board president asked for help, I grudgingly said ok. I wound up coaching 5th grade boys track (that is really funny) and being the secretary of this committee. FOR THE NEXT TWO YEARS. I must have had a double helping of stupid that morning.

We had another chorus recording session yesterday. It was less than stellar. We had to be on the risers at 2:15. Which means that the guys who hauls the riser trailer around (can you guess who that is?) has to be there at 1:30. I really want to talk to the genius that booked a recording session on a Sunday. During Football season. During the Bengal’s Game. When the Bengals are having their best year since Fred Flintstone.

My wife has been sick for as far back as I can remember. This leaves her feeling about as cuddly as a porcupine. ‘Nuff said.

I have double booked myself for Wednesday. 5:30 my son has therapy. 7:00 there is a Chorus board meeting. Oh, and stupid me agreed to a quartet rehearsal at the same time. Must have had another big bowl of stupid that morning too.

So we get a break from the recording session to go eat dinner. Half of my quartet (me and the Tenor) get together with another quartet Jim, Terry and Todd, and decide to go grab a coupla pizzas. Dan decided to tag along. Lord knows I don’t want to leave Dan out (sigh). My tenor suddenly became possessed by Satan, and threw water all over Jim’s crotch, making him look like he pissed his pants. I stood there dumbstruck. (dumb being the operative word here). Jim is retirement age, my tenor, Z, is fresh out of college. I was waiting for Jim to beat the dogshit out of Z. I think I would have helped, but Jim is a good guy, and simply threatened to superglue Z’s testicles to his belly if he ever caught him asleep. Z thought this was really hysterical. I was still aghast. So we went to dinner. The service is horrible. Jim, making conversation, asked about how my quartet was doing. What’s it like to sing with A (lead) he asked. Z pipes up telling everyone about how A is a bit of a prima donna and a momma’s boy, and really needs to get his head on straight, blah blah blah. I just listened. It’s not that what Z said was not true, but I think that being is a quartet is like being in a marriage, in that there are certain things that outsiders don’t need to know.

Then Jim asked how it was to sing with J, the baritone. Z pipes up again and says that J can be too high strung, and can be a real bastard sometimes.

Then Jim asks how it was to sing with me. Z says that I am the most quiet and focused member of the group. Never says much but keeps my center really well. Anyone who knows me would say the same thing. That is my demeanor. SO then Jim asks how it is to sing with Z. I replied that Z is a very smart singer, with incredible knowledge of music. (he is a summa cum laude graduate from the conservatory in bassoon for crying out loud). But I also said that he is the youngest member of the quartet, and acts like it sometimes. For example, he has not yet learned, and may never learn, that if he gets into a pissing match with J’s wife, which he frequently does, even if he wins, he loses. That is something a man learns with age.

Z takes me aside after the recording session and acts offended by what I say. “People just don’t understand that I my brain is totally independent of my age” he said. I agreed and told him it’s just a fact that when you are young, people look at you differently. Actually I look at him differently because I think he is from another planet.

I can’t seem to get enough time to work on my novella either. I feel like I am losing momentum.

Arghhhh

Troubador

White Trash and the Soccer Mom's who love them

Today on the Jerry Springer Show:

White Trash and the Soccer Mom's who love them


I hate rap
I have always hated rap
To me, there is no redeeming value to it
There is no real creativity involved in a music that is based on taking samples of other music and then putting a new spin on it. To me, that is just shy of plagiarism, or else just plain lazy.
The only thing worse than rap, is seeing white people try and do it, and do it poorly.

Rap promotes a lifestyle that I cannot understand. I just don’t get the whole gangsta thing. I just don’t get trying to sound stupid on purpose. I just don’t get why it is cool to look like you just got run over by a Salvation Army truck. I never understood why people want to wear grandma’s fake jewelry.

Maybe I am showing my age. Maybe this post is telling the world that I am really just a middle aged white guy, that is out of touch with the music scene these days. Really, I am ok with that. I am sure that my parents just didn’t get the whole Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Eagles and Lynrd Skynrd thing that I went through- and am still going through. The thing is, though, I am willing to live and let live. They can have their stupid assed looking cars, their idiotic clothing styles, and their gutter mouthed ghetto smut hoes that think that it would be a great career to be a pole dancer somewhere. Just leave me to mine and you can have yours.

But things are getting out of hand. I was out in the truck last night, coming home from quartet rehearsal. Flipping through the radio channels, I heard two songs, totally unrelated, but both being affected by either Rap or Bob and Tom, or Janet Jackson’s nipple, or all three. One was “The Devil went down to Georgia” and the other was “Who are You?” Those of you, who don’t know either of these songs, stay with me. I will get you there.

Devil went down to Georgia was a cross over song for the Charlie Daniels Band. It is not one of my all time favorites, but I will grant you, it has some pretty decent fiddle playing in it, which is kind of unique for a Top 40 hit. There is one word in DWDTG that would be considered a swear word. The lyric goes, “I done told you once you son of a Bitch, I am the best that has ever been.” That’s it. One word,

Then there is “Who are You?” This song is just one of many tracks by The Who that defined a sound for an era is music. It, to me, represents the whole rebellion of the late 60s early seventies Viet Nam era, where a young person was asking, who are you, to tell me what to do. The lyric goes, “Aw who the fuck are you?” One word. It goes by so fast, that you would miss it unless you are listening closely.

In my opinion, both words are appropriate. Both fit the song as they were intended, and both are part of the art that was intended to be created. Except now, both have been deleted or edited. Now it’s “Son of a gun.” Now, the whole line has been edited out of the song. That’s like putting a robe on Michelangelo’s David.

I have to ask why? Actually, I know the answer. The answer is because no one these days has the balls to make a judgment on appropriateness and stick to it. That or else no one can afford to, with the era of litigation that we are now on. But honestly, there is a difference between Who are You, with its one very effectively placed cuss word, and the trash that I hear blaring out of the gangsta mobiles that pull up next to me at a stoplight. When I have my kids in the car, I have to roll up the windows because every other word is nigga or whore or cunt or something like that. I am not a prude, but there are limits to everything.

I suppose I better get used to being called a racist, but to me there is a clear difference between the two and one is appropriate and one aint.

Troubador

Patrick Starfish and the Michelin Man

I love and I hate my office. I love it because I got to design it; I love it because it has a lot of desk space, and plenty of file space. It is right next to the bid room and I can see everything that is going on. Which is also why I hate my office. It is right out in the middle of everything. I can’t make private calls. I have to be careful of what is on my computer screen, not that I surf porno or anything, but employees can see financial and payroll stuff if I am not careful.

The worst part though, is that when somebody comes in, and it doesn’t matter who, they all talk to me. Everyone. What’s worse is that someone who comes to see someone else, in the office, or if they are with they person who has business here, they all talk to me too. I am the entertainment I suppose. I didn’t realize how bad the distractions were, until I came in after hours one night to get a project caught up. I got triple the amount of word done that I normally do.

I told you that story to tell you this.

We try to keep a good relationship with all of our employees, past and present. It is not uncommon for Dad to loan a tool or some equipment out to people if we aren’t using them and they ask. One former employee is in here constantly borrowing stuff. He brings his out of work son in law along with him. He also brings his four year old grandson with him. The grandson resembles the Michelin man. He is four years old. He weighs 80 lbs. This child cannot string together an entire sentence without help. So, Grandpa comes into the outer office, Son in law plunks his dead ass into the nearest chair, and Michelin Man (MM) made a bee line into my office. I didn’t look up. MM comes in and stands behind my chair.
“Where’s the candy,” he asked.
“Its all gone,” I said.
Long pause
“Where’s the bubble gum,” he asked.
“Its all gone,” I said. Both statements were true.
Long pause.
I could hear him walking around the office behind me. Over the years my kids have given me little things to decorate my office. Katie gives my drawings; Joe would give me Mini Tonka trucks. MM loves to come into my office.
My latest decoration is Patrick Starfish from Sponge Bob.
****Side Note: I think Sponge Bob is the funniest thing since Tom and Jerry**** I love Patrick. He makes me look smart.

Long silence while MM is taking inventory. About the time my curiosity is getting the better of me, to see what the little shit is doing, he says,” Patrick.”

“Patrick”
I don’t answer. I am busy working. I don’t have time to baby-sit a 4 year old blimp

“Patrick”
I really need to get this quote finished, its due Thursday.
“Patrick”
I need to call the lumber yard to see if they are on schedule

“Patrick”
Ok you little bastard, I will let you play with him, but you have to string together a whole sentence first, and actually ASK for what you want.

“Patrick”
I whip around in my chair and say, “ Why Yes! That is Patrick. What a bright little fellow you are. Your grandpa must be very proud.”

I turn around and get back to work.

There is a long silence behind me, and then I hear things on my side desk being moved. MM has decided to climb up on my desk to reach his pal Patrick. Gritting my teeth, I ignore this until I see out of the corner of my eye, that he is about to tip over my glass of water.

“Would you like to play with Patrick?
Nods
“Well I would have given him to you if you would have asked.”

“Patrick”


Well, I give the child the stuffed starfish and try and get back to work. I didn’t know that Patrick was also an airplane that made airplane noises. And I never realized that Patrick liked to talk to adults, and it never occurred to be that Patrick would want to walk along the edge of my desk….

“Why don’t you go show Patrick to Grandpa?”

That seemed like a good idea so Patrick and MM go into the other office for a while.

When I looked up again, MM did not have Patrick anymore. He was stuffed into a coat pocket.

I got up and retrieved Patrick from the little klepto’s pocket. By that time Grandpa has finished mooching whatever he wanted. Grandpa did stop in to tell me all about his project and what he had been doing. On the way out, he held the jar at the reception desk so that MM could fill his pockets with peppermints.

I need a vacation

Troubador

...what girls will do for money...

My house is like most houses in the morning that have an entire family trying to get up and out in the morning; someone is always running late. Since my wife drives the kids to school before she goes to work, if they are running late, she is running late.

This morning, as I was walking out the door at 7:25 I heard her tell the kids that the first one that was dressed and in the car got a dollar

At 7:46 I got a call asking me where Joe's shoes are. He had left them in front of the TV in the living room. I told her I didn't know. The kids are due at school at 7:50. She is due at work at 8:00 They are tearing the house apart looking for shoes.

At 8:10 I got a call from my wife
She announces that she is going to kill my daughter.

Why?"' I ask. "Did she make you late?:
"No. She was in the car first."
"Did you give her the dollar?"
"No."
"Why not? She was dressed before Joe."
"Thats because she cheated."
"How can you cheat?"



"She hid his shoes. And she is not getting a dollar for that."

I laughed until I cried.


Peace


Troubador

The wisdom of Yoda

I have seen hundreds of movies in my life. However, there are very few that I will watch twice, and fewer yet that stick with me for a while. Two of the movies that are highest on my list are The Empire Strikes Back, and Shawshank Redemption.

Both movies have quotes that move me everytime I see them:

T.E.S.B.:

Luke: All right, I'll give it a try.
Yoda: No. Try not. Do... or do not. There is no try.
[Using the Force, Yoda effortlessly frees the X-Wing from the bog]

Luke: I don't, I don't believe it.
Yoda: That is why you fail.

I think that an awful lot of questions in life can be answered by reflecting on that conversation.


Shawshank:

Red:
I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

If Stephen King had never written another word, I don't think he could have done any better.

Red: [narrating] I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.

All of you who know me, know why this is here.

It is amazing where wisdom that touches your life can come from.

These quotes are courtesty of IMDB.com, one of my very favorite websites

Peace

Troubador