rustypants speaks

every so often i get an inappropriate comment from someone to the effect of, “gee, it must be nice to just turn off your hearing aids and not hear” or “what i would give to have your hearing problem today” to which i usually say, “hey dumbass – i’d trade you any day.”

there are few benefits involved in hearing loss – the cost of equipment, the things i cannot do, the social things that are missed out on, the annoyance of loud restaurants, not being able to swim or be out in the rain and hear, advantages students take when they realize you can’t hear, loss of patience from people who are tired of repeating themselves for you, etc. – it’s a costly disability any way you slice it.

the few “benefits” there are can be counted on one hand – i’ll tell you about the first one today.

lise and i lived in washington d.c. & baltimore for close to ten years – our favorite outings were ones where we would get in the car, gas up the tank, and drive and explore. there were a number of state and national parks within a couple hours’ drive and we always loved going & hiking, driving, picnicking, etc.

but the cost. holy crap. i mean, we’re talking 15 years ago and i remember having to pay $5 to get into shenandoah national park in virginia (it’s now $8 to $15 per car, depending on the season). assateague island was around $8 (and it’s also now up to $15). blackwater national wildlife reserve was $2 or $3 to drive through, even. we were floored, although we paid and usually had to save up to do it. it sure seems silly now, but that’s how poor we were with lise full time in school and neither of us making much money.

so picture this: one day we’re in a line of cars leading up to the entrance to shenandoah in front royal, virginia. their big welcoming sign posts all their fees, etc. and down toward the bottom…

“Golden Access Card – Disabled – FREE“

i turned to lise and said, “gee, i wonder what constitutes ‘disabled’ here?” figuring it was more profoundly handicapped.

we pulled up to the window and i handed the dude my $5. as he’s handing me my receipt, the following conversation takes place:

“here’s your change and a map of the park, sir.”
“thanks. hey, what do i have to do to get a Golden Access Card?”
“what’s your disability?”
“uh, (looks at watch) about 2:00.”

he glances at my hearing aid, motions for the receipt back, hands me my $5, points up the hill and annunciates clearly while looking me square in the face, “drive up the hill and turn into the ranger station. they’ll give you an application and a card.”

and with that, i got a golden access card, allowing me into any national park in the country. for free.

we’ve used the thing a lot over the years but lost track of the card maybe 6 years ago. during the move, it was discovered in a box and set aside.

today we hit gulf island national seashore at perdido key – the card still works.

what’s that?

uh, about 2:00.

while out on the beach thursday afternoon a rather surprising fashion statement was being made perhaps 50 yards south of me.

now, i joke about going to the beach for the sights (babes?) but the reality is: i go to the very end of civilization on p-cola beach just to NOT have to endure the sights or the people or the noise. we are genuinely disappointed when there are other folks close by – not because we’re anti-social buttheads – we just enjoy an empty beach to ourselves.

so i’m sitting there sunning myself and reading a book and looking for the occasional seashell in the surf, basically minding my own business. out of the corner of my eye, i see some dude fishing. no big deal, right? but after he casts his reel, he’s making funny / big gestures with his arms – almost to draw attention to himself, it seems.

now on this particular day, i’d forgotten to put my contacts in, but it was a true double-take when i thought i saw what i thought i saw.

out comes the camera, zoom that sucker in for all it’s worth, and there it was.

the worst fashion statement i’ve ever seen on any beach anywhere.

and now my plea:

please, for the love of all things sacred, if you’re a fat middle aged man, with or without a huge butt-tattoo, DO NOT wear a man-thong to pensacola beach in the middle of the day.

now, in the interest of full-disclosure, i offer this: do i like to skinnydip in the gulf? yes, at times. at night. in the pitch black. far from civilization. away from anyone who might be subjected to the awful sight.

but never at noon on a beach where there are dozens and dozens of folks within view.

and finally: man-thongs? are you for real??

i’m sad to say that ron paul has bowed out of the 2008 presidential election.

folks are still trying to figure him out, but i’ll bottom line it with this:

it’s integrity.

answer #3: they take their big dogs to the bayview dog park down on the bay.

officially, dogs are not allowed on the beach down at pensacola beach. why? oh, i can think of some untrained / violent dog reasons as well as some stupid / uncaring / irresponsible owner reasons, but generally we disagree with this rule.

when we’re feeling compliant, however, we hit bayview. and today that’s what dolby and i did.

he does love to swim, that’s for sure. when we first moved here he didn’t know that he knew how to swim, so he was timid and very hesitant about getting in. now, however, he bounds in like a crazy mutt. for the hour+ we were there, he hardly took a step OUT of the water.

dolby’s a funny dog – he’s a big boy but he is also OWNED by most other dogs – even tiny ones. but when he’s in the water playing with his fire hose toy: bitch, please! you best keep your jaws OFF my bizness!

that big dog in the middle picture was trying to get a little too close and dolby stepped up! the dog backed down! i was shocked! amazed! proud!

at any rate, here in hot, summery p-cola, teachers take their dogs to the dog park for a cool swim.

after being teased and laughed at numerous times, it’s finally time to explain The Tan Lines.

Ready?

stage one is quite simple: when you’re a pasty white boy from Ohio, there’s no escaping the fact that you will ALWAYS have some parts that remain pasty white. short of shaving my head and joining a nudist colony (two things neither of which sound appealing at this stage in my life), my pasty white parts will just have to remain so.

stage two is not all that hard to understand. i’ll put it into an equation for you:

teaching + (summers off + lots of free time) * living in florida = nice tan for pasty white teachers from ohio

stage three is where things get difficult. wearing birkenstocks almost exclusively (when footwear is required at all) means an almost permanent foot tan at about mid-foot and the toes. this includes wintertime, fall, and spring. there’s no avoiding it. try as i may to tan the whole foot and lose the telltale birk-tan, alas i cannot. birk-tan continues to bake and get darker.

and now you understand the stages of tan lines pertaining to FL teacher transplants. please stop picking on us.

Download Answer #2

answer #1:

play guitar with the amp cranked to 11.

one sucky thing about not having a house is this: when you’re in an apartment it’s difficult to just open it up and play loud. i mean, you’ve got people on both sides and they don’t want to hear you play cowboy junkies, green day, and neil young tunes at top volume, you know? there’s no accounting for taste, apparently.

this guitar is sweet – it was a graduation gift several years ago from my dad. fender telecaster special limited edition with a couple dimarzio humbuckers to add to the fun. now, i don’t claim to be a good guitarist by any measure, but there’s something about just going to town even if you’re not very good. when you get in the groove and you’re just going with it…

i’ve been using a small practice amp for a while but a year or so ago i was given a short stack of peavey amps that were going to be put out on the curb – folks, these things, when wired up and cranked, can shake windows! apartment living doesn’t allow for that either, but i can always pretend, right?

summer break is great for playing your guitar at full volume in the apartment. this is answer number one to the question: what do teachers in pensacola do all summer.

our fascination with graveyards has held true for years. few things are more fun than finding a nifty old graveyard while out on a try-to-get-lost drive in the middle of nowhere.

two weekends ago we drove to mobile, alabama primarily to find an indian restaurant (found! but more on that later). after eating, we decided to drive around downtown mobile, then took a wrong turn down a main road leading through the beginnings of suburbia. just as we were about to turn around and head back, we saw it.

a tourist-destination sign… for a cemetery.

we looked at each other, looked at the sign again, looked at each other and said, “if there’s a sign for a cemetery, it’s gotta be a good one.”

and it was. it is.

magnolia cemetery sits on 120 acres close to the downtown area and has graves dating back to the early 1800′s. there are many magnolia trees on the property and on this particular weekend – memorial day – there was a massive and impressive flag display as well.

we are intrigued by several things in graveyards (and these determine whether we go to a graveyard at all or just drive by):

1. are the majority of the graves OLD ones?
2. are there a good number of elaborate, ornate graves?
3. can we go traipsing around without getting yelled at by caretakers?

the answer to each of these questions on this day: YES!!

any time we find a cool old graveyard, we begin by making a bet on what the oldest grave is we’ll see. this is frequently hampered by graves so old that one is no longer able to read the inscriptions. this makes for much sadness but also adds to the challenge! there are graves dating back to the War of 1812 at magnolia, but the oldest ones we saw were just a few years short of the Civil War.

you can see the civil war cannon on the side of picture number 6 above. the angels are quite expressive, although i admit to making a joke about the angel in the middle picture above giving the finger due to a missing index finger (and wishful thinking / selective seeing). some of the crypts were stunning – marble with intricate designs, fencing, and inscriptions.

our interest is all the more unusual given that neither lise nor i have any desire to be put in an expensive box with an expensive rock on top of an expensive piece of land upon our deaths. we’re both shooting for a nice cremation and ashes scattered in various spots around ohio, maryland, and florida. if we die together and you hear that we’re being boxed up, please print and send this article to the funeral planners, eh?

we probably spent an hour here, looking, listening, watching, talking, thinking, photographing. it was quite peaceful and awe-inspiring. the lengths to which some of the families have gone to preserve some sort of legacy or record was extraordinary – and i say that with respect.

i was surprised at the haunting beauty of the place and large scale of many of the plots to the point of turning to lise and saying, “well, this looks like a pleasant place to be dead.” she smiled at me and we both knew we were thinking the same thing: it’s beautiful here, but please: don’t put me here!

the kids finished up last friday but we’ve got several days of paperwork, meetings, training, room clearning, etc. before we’re finished for the summer.

i got some time friday with one of my girls who is painfully shy but such an incredible student that i wish i could have more like her. i took about 10 minutes while we were outside and really encouraged her, talked about the things that so impressed me about her, talked to her about how i know she feels like a fish out of water sometimes because she’s so shy but that other students were envious of her quiet and hard-working attitude, let her know that she’s one of the few students i could really say “you’ll do anything you want to do when you grow up if you keep up with the things you’re doing” – it was just a really good but too brief time together letting her know that she’s been a great student.

so this morning i’m in my room cleaning up, moving desks around, throwing BOXES of papers and trash away. hidden on my cart was a folded up piece of paper that i was 95% certain was just a note one student probably wrote to another last week that i took from them – you know how it is.

just as i’m about to throw the thing away, i decide to take a look at it.

and it’s a note, written friday morning just before the kids left, from this girl. it was written directly to me and included a picture of her folded up in the note, too.

here’s the note.

and this is what i’ll miss.