Two disclaimers... 

I don't pass email things along; I don't accept email forwards and that's all there is to that. To quote King Solomon, "There isn't anything new under the sun." He must have had the Internet in mind, because whatever "it" is one feels compelled to pass along to friends and family, there is a 99% chance it's made the rounds years ago. Doesn't make me better than you or anything because I don't participate, it's just how I feel.

Second, nothing bugs me more than uncredited quotes or articles floating around that same Internet. Someone worked on hard that joke or that story and their name should appear somewhere on it.

And now, I'll break both rules!

I got this a few years ago and it reappeared in my Inbox a couple weeks ago. I made a sincere attempt to find the author...thought I'd found her...but it was only a dead end.  If you know who wrote this, I'd sure like you to send him or her my way; I'd like spell their name right when I plop it on a byline on top of this post.

In the meantime...to my passel of twentysomething kids - whilst you're out shouting around, trying to DO something and MAKE stuff happen in this world, here are some rather wise things to remember...

An Old Farmer's Advice:

·    Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.

·    Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.

·    Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.

·    A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.

·    Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.

·    Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.

·    Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.

·    Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.

·    It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.

·    You cannot unsay a cruel word.

·    Every path has a few puddles.

·    When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.

·    The best sermons are lived, not preached.

·    Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway.

·    Don't judge folks by their relatives

·    Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

·    Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll enjoy it a second time.

·    Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none.

·    Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.

·    If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.

·    Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.

·    The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with watches you from the mirror every mornin'.

·    Always drink upstream from the herd.

·    Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.

·    Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.

·    If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody else's dog around.

·    If you don't have a sense of humor, you probably don't have any sense at all!

·    Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

Then: Cursive or block letters.
Now: Arial, Verdana, Fang Son and about 1.25 buhzillion more. 

Then: High five and/or a handshake and, “What’s up Bob?”
Now: Twitter – “Hey Mark Cuban, I am five minutes from seeing Bob.”
Facebook – (What’s on your mind?) Think I’m going to Bob’s
MySpace – *picture of me shoving my tongue in my own ear as I go to see Bob*
YouTube – Video of me walking out of my house to get in the car to see Bob
LinkedIn – Invite emailed to Bob asking to connect because I don’t really ‘know’ him, other than the intimate details about his relationships he outlined on Gimme.com

Then: I’m off Christmas week. Me too, I’m going to spend time at church/synagogue/mosque/outdoors/etc.
Now: Our employees will be off work next week for One Earth Festivus Holiday Can’t We All Just Sing a Song Partisan NOT Christmas Celebration Extravaganza

Then: “Yeah, I’m not that hungry. Gimme four cheeseburgers, small fry and two apple pies.”
Now: “Great Scott! There’s only 2 grams of fiber in this tasty piece of rope. What will we do; what WILL we do?”

Then: “Holy Smokes, that is one good looking female! Wow. I could just look at her all day.”
Now: “Holy Smokes, that is one good looking lawn! Wow. I could just look at it all day.”

Then: Make all you can, save all you can, give all you can.
Now: Sell! Sell! No, buy! Buy! No, sell! Sell! No, come to my financial seminar! Then Sell! Then Buy!

Then: Make good stuff, make a profit, stay in business. Make junk, lose money, go out of business.
Now: (Sorry, I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. Just go on to the next one.)

Then: Evolution, revolution, gun control, sound of soul. Shooting rockets to the moon, kids growing up too soon. Politicians say more taxes will solve everything. And the band played on.
Now: Not shooting rockets to the moon. And where the heck is the sound of soul? I think it must have gone to the moon on one of those rockets, because it sure isn’t anywhere on my radio.

Then: Farmer Dave’s vegetables (grown in dirt, with cow manure, watered and weeded by Dave and his family, sold out of his truck on the FM road, available only the next few weeks because this is when you harvest these certain veggies, silly) .59 a pound
Now: All natural, no pesticides, organic, local, free range, no animals harmed in the making of Farmer Dave’s veggies, 7.99 a pound. Available at Snooty Nose Market year round

Then: Block, oil pan, crankcase, manifold, heads, carb, distributor, points, plugs, starter.
Now: *blinks*

Then: Swing me, Daddy! Swing me right NOW! *giggle, smile, laugh*
Now: Hey Dad, can I um, catch you next week on what I owe you for those tires?

Then: Remembering the name of the person in the fifth grade who had a crush on you.
Now: Huh? What was I sayin’?

This morning it took me half a cup of coffee to read the whole paper, and it’s not because I’m some Evelyn Wood trained speedster. It’s because the thing is so small now. If it used to take you all your morning time and then some after supper to read your paper – and you know what Evelyn Wood Speed Reading is – you might be pushing beyond 50.

There are other signs time is jacking with us.

Twelve-year-olds need safe haven for the important things in their lives. Remember those secret hiding spots in your room? Journals, letters, and pictures that snuggled safely in corners of closets, waited patiently under cheap lock and key, or lived tucked under the bed all surrounded us with familiarity.

Then one day, what was a comfortable series of tasks involving school, TV, and playing outside suddenly grew complex. The addition of funny feelings, ideas, and thoughts along with the onrush of that coming first teenage birthday made those secret, safe, and solemn places even more important to the young man or woman. Now…I can’t ever find my stupid reading glasses!

I took them off for nine seconds to rub my eyes and when I reached down to pick them up, they were gone. Spent fifteen minutes looking at the same four spots around where I’m sitting; I wondered if me drumming my fingers over my lower lip and saying, “bibity-bibity-bibity,” would help. Finally found them - in the living room! Huh? I think we must have a twelve year old around here that I don’t know about. Either that or I’m just pushing beyond 50 at mach 3.

But of course, the clichéd sign of passing time is technology. You know, clichés are clichés for a reason; just because a reference to something is passé, it can still be the truth!

We have a financial ledger from the missus’ grandfather that he used to run his home. He was self-employed since the first day he worked, meaning his home finances were his business finances and vice versa. In the ledger there are entries for the chicken eggs he sold, payments from the logging company who cut timber on his land, and the first, grudging payment he made for the electricity to the house.

Move ahead forty years (and if you’re pushing beyond 50), you might remember a big, heavy adding machine at your father’s job. My dad actually brought one home and me and my brothers and sisters would play with it for entire evenings! It was mysterious and marvelous, complicated and well beyond our comprehension as to its inner workings. It was magic, frankly. (If you remember magical things in every day life, it’s got nothing to do with PB 50; share your outlook with everyone, please?)

Thirty years later…

Last week I took a half inch wide by two inch long piece of metal (weighs about 2 ounces) called a flash drive to my CPA so he could goof with my first quarter business taxes. This 1 GB marvel holds all the information about my little company and probably is capable of holding more information than all the file cabinets in my dad’s office those years ago. The laptop computer the flash drive sucked the information from probably holds more facts and figures than my dad’s whole office.

We have an external hard drive in my office. It has a 1 terabyte capacity. If you were to take all the words in an average 350 page book, you could store over 628,000 books on our “Big Boi.” In about fifteen more minutes it will be obsolete, and so it goes.

The next great thing? A solid state 1 TB of storage – a marvel of engineering and an amazing, safe, and long-lasting piece of hardware. Much like grandpa’s seventy year old ledger, and, oddly enough, a drive that fits under a twelve year old’s bed. Which is probably where my reading glasses are.

I, um, lost them again.

She walks into the living room, holds up a gaggle of black cords and says, “Do you need this stuff?”

Not sure there’s a more sinister thing a wife can ask a Pushing Beyond 50 hunny-bunny. Regardless what she holds up, rest assured it’s something vital to his continued existence. It’s not important that hunny hasn’t thought about this stuff, let alone seen it, for sixteen years.

When a potential crisis or disaster elbows its way into your life, the moment feels a bit surreal. Nothing’s going on, then suddenly…

“Mr. President, there’s been a military action in…”

“Sir, this is the principal at Jimmy’s school…”

“The Supreme Court has decided it'll do whatver it wants despite the wishes of the majority…”

“Do you need this stuff?”

All those sneak up on a guy, causing him to gulp and immediately back-pedal for safety.

“Um, ‘need’ it? Let’s define need,” I say.

“Well I was cleaning out our closet and found them; c’mere and tell me what you want to do with some of this other stuff.”

I’m a good husband and dutifully follow her into the closet, better known as my t-shirt hall of fame. The dogs follow closely. They smell fear and it intrigues them.

“Go through these shoes and tell me what you want to keep,” the missus says.

“Okay. Hmmm. Okay, done. I want to keep all of them.”

“C’mon!”

“Let’s define ‘good.’ If, by good, you mean my feet stay dry when I wear them, then they’re all good. If you mean something else, enlighten me and the folks at Webster’s. Baby cakes.”

We both cock our heads; her to the left, me to the right – hey, we’ve been married nigh on twenty six years. You’ll never mistake me for Fred Astaire, but I know how to dance when I hear certain tunes.

“When was the last time you wore those brown shoes?”

“I wore them to that…that…well, it wasn’t yesterday, but…huh?

“Right. Kevin, what about these old tennis shoes?”

A sly smile works its way across my face, and I chuckle, hoping I sound like Barry White when he would chuckle.

“You know the first time I wore these bad boys? Yeaaaahhh, bad boy, indeed.”

“Hmmm,” she says and thinks for a moment. ”Looking at them I’d say it was maybe around 1957 when you were a sperm? And because of them you sped past the other, non-speedy tennis shoed sperm and tapped that egg?”

The smile quickly retreats.

“Dude, don’t talk about my parents like that. Can’t believe you! I told you about my mom and the immaculate conceptions. Told you that story more than once. Sheesh!”

She cocks her head to the left, but I’m sitting this one out.                  

“I can’t,” I say, “I’m sorry I just can’t continue here today; I’m traumatized.”

I grab a few articles of clothing and toss them her way, wiping away a tear as I do.

“Take these if you must have something.”

I sigh deeply and shuffle out of the closet, but grab that gaggle of black cords because “this stuff” turns out to be the extra guitar cords I thought I lost years ago. Me and the dogs high five and skip over to my little amp, excited and pumped. My effects pedal, which before today could only be heard through headphones, will now blast live and in concert across Flo Mo!

And that concert will happen because *sniff* three shirts and a pair of sweats sacrificed their lives so that the rest of the “good” stuff I “need” could survive yet another Saturday of evil. 

Now I know savvy business folks work these Books and Links hard, but golly Bill they’re such “hurry and sign up right now, send this to everyone you know,” things, it’s like being around three year olds at snack time and you ain’t got no snacks. You’ll do anything to shut them up.

So I am done with them all. I figure the way to go is the on the offensive. I’m starting my own Internet networking sites that you’ll have to join or everyone will know you’re not cool and a poor business person.

Nose book – you get a list of people (and are put on a list, too) and either PICK them to be a ring in your Nostril or you FLICK them away to Tissue Land. There’s also an Under the Car Seat link where you can smoosh people that you’re not sure about. What? Oh c’mon…you do too.

Butt Book – pages and pages of pictures showing people way too drunk, half naked, flipping birds and sticking their tongue out while flying a two fisted heavy metal salute. Wait, it’s a different name but we already have that.

(An aside here…can we talk, young man and young lady? I recruit for a living, a headhunter, right? When you send us your resume, we search your name on every social network and search engine we can. Then we see that picture of you with a bottle of Jack in your hand and your tongue jammed in your BFF’s ear. We don’t call you back for a job you are – on paper – tremendously qualified for. So am I saying it’s because you party? No. It’s because…hmmm. How to put this politically correctly? How about this: we don’t call because you’re a flaming idiot.

Oh! To you really slick play-ahs; make your profile or whatever private. Aha! We can’t see you then, right? Unless, of course, you’ve ever made friends with someone who’s all about going public with pictures of that party y’all went to last month, or even six years ago! Remember, there is no shelf life on the Internet. What goes on the ‘Net, stays on the ‘Net.)

I will start the Can of Shut the Heck UP! Book – I’ll link to other people’s profiles, walls, floors, tweets, sheets, and bleats who’ve invited me and don’t even know me…click a hot key on my keyboard and a flaming red can will open on your profile page and the words Shut the Heck UP! will immediately blaze across your screen. You have to join the C-SHUB in order to make the thing disappear off all your sites.

Handcuffed Up – You exist on this business network in order to business network. Then you send out emails, etc to people and say, “Cuff me, B,” so you can build a network of people bigger than China. Because that is one heck of an accomplishment – send out notes and emails telling folks to email you back and join together with the band. Oh, wait, we already have that.

Know what else? Yeah, yeah, I know you’ve made a ton of money because of these things, but goodnight nurse, can anyone in this country MAKE anything anymore? (Kevin looks in the mirror as he types.)

Beat My (Face) in the Fifth Grade Book – if you got a whuppin or did some whuppin in the fifth grade, you post your name and a picture from back then. You caption your picture with the words, “Did you beat my (face) in 1973?” That way you might could find the guy who blackened your eye and go firebomb his house, or, if you’re the one who handed out the beat down, maybe you find the guy whose eye you blackened and laugh at him all over again. After you say you live in a city 500 miles from where you really live.

It’s Only My Opinion apedia – No facts, just stuff my mom told me (like what would happen if I kept doing that) as the gospel truth. Oh wait, we already have that.

You know, maybe I’m only looking at this through old guy eyes. Then again, maybe I’m an old guy who knows what the road that leads towards Too Darn Busy town looks like. And if there’s one thing we all seem to do, my friends, it’s make regular trips to that place.

One more; Guess What book – you fashion a profile and then a blank page/wall pops up. Then as you go through your day, you simply think about what you’d type on your wall and later on when you get home, you post, “So…what do you guys think I thought about today?” The folks in your Circle then guess and you give points to whoever guesses the stuff that’s the coolest (which has little to do with the truth but then, who really gives a flyin’ fish about the truth in 2009, yo?)

Kinda stupid? Yeah, I guess. Okay, you can put pictures of your booty up and type, “Did you think about my booty today? If so, put me in your group and let’s see if we can network the entire world together.”

That will get things going.