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Believe it ...



... because it's true ...




... it's very true.




Go Gamecocks!

It's All In The Eye(s)

I was telling my father about how his oldest grandson, Asa, really showed out at basketball practice.

How, during a water break, two boys were trying to steal the ball from him and how he just goofed around and toyed with them a bit as they fell all over themselves.

I told my Dad how proud (as his coach and his father) I was of his confidence and focus and ability to have fun with his little 5 and 6-year-old friends. He works hard to be good, and he helps others who are weaker.

My Dad laughed and then, as he's apt to do, drew a semi-sort-of-appertaining comparison. One of those not-so-seamless-but-still-kind-of-related segues.

He told me how there was this guy when he was a teenager who was the best guard at Fairfield Central High School.

This guy, my Dad told me, had crazy eyes. One eye went this-a-way, the other eye went that-a-way. Only one eye was good, but you never could remember which one was real and which one was fake.

Dad told me how this guy just dominated the court, because -- get this -- people would look at his eyes and not know which we he was going.

Now, whether that's actually true or just something to say, I don't know. And I have no idea why my father told me that story in response to me bragging on his grandson.

All I know is, whatever the reason, I'm glad I heard that one.

And I'm going to have to coach the kids on dribbling with their eyes crossed.

'If This Darkness Came From Light, Then Light Can Come From Darkness, I Guess'

It isn't what it becomes.

It's what is revealed.

What already is but can't be seen in the pursuit of life.

The green blanket of sustenance recedes as coldness ignites a forest fire, unveiling what is and has been all along.

A blazing release, possible only in death.

Hey, Look At Me, Look At Me, I Voted Today

Election Day is one of my favorite holidays.

The kids are home from school, so my little boys get to stay up late and watch "Monday Night Football" and WWE "Raw." I get to go into work late and eat free pizza. And I always score one of those "I Voted" stickers.

It's interesting walking around the grocery store on Election Day. People voted for somebody, and they're not telling you who. Everybody's part of something bigger. Part of this big, flawed quenching of the thirst for power. And we walk around with our "I Voted" stickers.

Those are a curious accessory to a day such as this. It's as if we've done something for someone. Like we've performed some larger duty akin to serving in the military or giving blood. I can understand a sticker for risking your life in service of your country. I can understand a sticker for giving blood. You let someone stick a needle in your arm and suck out your freakin' blood.

Voting is a right paid for us by the blood of our forefathers. People ceased to be so we could do this every first Tuesday in November. We owe it to them to participate. So it makes me wonder: What would these guys think?Those killed in the Battle of Long Island and tortured death in the Bataan Death March and the like?

What would they think of us walking around with our little stickers, as if we just earned our Cub Scout Bobcat badge? Why do we need a pat on the back for going to our local church or elementary school, being smart enough to bring a driver's license and pressing a few buttons?

And what if you don't have a sticker? That insinuates that you either a.) voted and didn't wear a sticker, b.) voted and wasn't offered a sticker or c.) didn't vote.

There's nothing wrong with consciously deciding not to vote. There's a lot of power in pushing those buttons. It's how wars are fought, how people suffer, how the world is cared for. What is the purpose of someone blindly pushing buttons with no knowledge of what your pushing them for?

Or maybe you do know and maybe the choice between the lesser of two evils isn't a choice you feel you should have to make. Maybe you choose nothing.

My sticker that I'm wearing today says, "I Voted for myself."

I did vote for myself. And my two sons. And my buddy Paul (who called to ask me if I was interested in him writing me in for the State House seat in his district, which would be problematic because I don't live in that district).

I took my 6-year-old son, Asa, to vote with me today. I pulled a chair up to the touchscreen booth and let him stand on it.

"Here's governor." And I told him the guy I was going to vote for. How this guy is a Democrat and this guy is a Republican.

I went through the others.

Lt. Governor. State Treasurer. The Gay Marriage Amendment.

Then, I pushed write-in, and I told Asa I was voting for him for our district's state house seat.

He asked me why. I told him because there was only one person to choose from and that I had no idea who he really was or what he had done. I wasn't against him, but I wasn't for him, either.

There is no button for "None Of The Above." The best you can do is write in someone to make an affirmative statement. Otherwise, it's a statement of nothing.

Asa for State House. Aden for Attorney General. Eric for Secretary of State. Paul for Agriculture Commissioner.

It was a good lesson for Asa. He asked me what would happen if he were to win, and he seemed genuinely worried that he might.

I told him about how some people are Democrats and some people are Republicans and how they disagree on how the world should be run. I told him that they make voting secret so that we can never be in trouble with anybody for voting for whom we want to.

And I told him you vote only if you know what you're voting for.

Somehow, as strange as it sounds, I don't think I wronged our forefathers too much.

And I wore my sticker.