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Red Ears
My ears are red with embarrassment. Ashamed that their owner could put sun-block on his face, neck and arms but forget them. Twice. In two days. Leaving them red with embarrassment. Or something. After Friday's round of golf spent donating balls to the creatures of the woods and water around the course, my exposed ears got their second consecutive UV overdose at Tampa Bay Downs, where Mom, Dad and I went to contribute to the track's profits in the names of horses whose next race should be running away from the guy wielding a cleaver at the slaughterhouse. You know I'm kidding about the horses' fate. They are beautiful, curious and majestic animals and if I'm dumb enough to hand money through a betting window hoping they'll win it back for me it's not their fault. Unfortunately many horses who do not have fleet enough feet do wind up getting ground into hamburger or glue. I covered a story recently where someone stole three harness racing horses from Lebanon Raceway northeast of Cincinnati. Because they're tattooed with ID numbers like a car's VIN, they can't race or be sold as standardbreds anywhere. The thieves could sell them as riding horses, maybe, but the missing horses' owners feared that they'd go instead to a slaughterhouse where they sell by the pound. At least I didn't bet on the Final Four games or I'd have lost my money on both of those too. People who wager on the competetive performace of college athletes are no smarter than the horses I lost my money on. I did bring my video camera and shot Mom and Dad watching the races so I got something out of the trip to the track. And any day Duke loses is a day not wasted. Not that I watched much of the games or anything. Mom and Dad's next door neighbors invited them and another couple who lives on the street over for a cookout Saturday. Since the other two couples had their kids there, Mom and Dad brought me -- probably as a cautionary example of how they can turn out if not raised right: 38, single and coming back to spend vacations at their house. Joe Haack doesn't spend a lot of time in his house next to Mom and Dad's. He's an Army Lieutenant Colonel and goes on the road more than a Goodrich tire salesman. World hotspots are his office and, recently returned from Iraq, Joe spent much of dinner telling us stories about adventures he's had in the Middle East. Hungry while driving through Jordan, he and his crew stopped in a restaurant that didn't usually see Americans let alone serve them. The owner couldn't seem to get past that fact. Joe kept explaining to the guy who spoke perfect English that, Americans or not, they wanted to buy lunch. But Americans don't eat here, the owner kept answering. Finally Joe asked: "So are you going to kill us or serve us lunch?" That made us laugh and broke the ice with the restaurant owner too. Turns out the guy had relatives in Joe's home state of Michigan. Small world. He told more stories that I should have taken care to remember so I could recount them for you now. He's an entertaining storyteller and you would have liked hearing his tales. He went on to complain about the media not showing more of the positives of the war, acknowledging that they aren't as "sexy" as soldiers blown up by a roadside bomb. I didn't know whether to get alarmed or amused at how the guy from the other couple reacted to that. Dave wore a Florida State Seminoles T-shirt that covered his arms thick from weighlifting and tattooed from whatever dullness makes people mutilate their bodies with permanent ink. He suggested that the army PR gurus collect some of the "good" news from the war and tell the newspapers, "it might not be sexy but you're going to put it out whether you want to or not." Um, see Dave? Part of the reason we're considered better than other countries is that in ours we don't allow the government or its military to tell its media what to print or say. But thanks for chiming in. At least his blonde-haired wife was cute and still well shaped. She must have been hotter than a bottle rocket ten years and two kids ago. Head cheerleader marries the football star to produce the next generation of high school quarterbacks. We didn't get home until the second half of the Georgia Tech - Oklahoma State game. After watching Tech win that, I went nutso with the remote and saw only bits and pieces of Duke's bitter end. But I watched the sweet finish. Not that I like anything about Connecticut, including its state university's basketball team (men's or women's), but like the upcoming presidential election will, it came down to choosing the lesser of two evils. Even if they're equally red. Oh, wait. That would have been "lesser of two ears." Sorry.
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