MURPHY’S TAVERN

Congratulations America!

History’s pioneering experiment, the notion of a government of and by a free people once again manifested mankind’s most noble endowment: Freedom of choice. With the ballot box as its instrument, America has validated the righteousness of its ideals.

World, take notice! Americans, one by one, made clear the high value they attach to a fundamentally human principle: To speak out, to give their opinion, to express their choice and to do so completely immune from fear of reprisal.

For most of us, the right to cast a free ballot is an inherent element of our nature. We don’t deliberate it, we simply exercise it. And perhaps we lose appreciation for the genuine magnitude of it. It is easy to forget that brave men and women have made great sacrifices in order that this be preserved. Some of us have forgotten that freedom has a price and often the price has been high.

America’s liberties and the freedom of her citizens were not cheaply gotten. Nor will they be cheaply preserved. We must never forget what it has taken to achieve our freedom and we must always stand ready to do whatever is necessary to eternally preserve it.

Ours is the world’s best example. May it never perish.

I’m Dylan.  I’m a regular guy.  I don’t mean I take a lot of Metamucil.

I mean I’m like a lot of people, like most of them maybe.  I struggle to make a buck, struggle for respect from my kids, struggle to keep the car running, the roof from leaking, and the tax man from taking his share - and mine too.

I’ve learned a lot through life’s struggles and experiences.  They’re all slices of life and pearls of wisdom.

I have wisdom.  When you’re older, you get to call your experiences that.  And I get more each day; older and wiser.  I am as old as I am wise. That means I won’t benefit from all the wisdom too long.

My views are ordinary, but views nevertheless.  I’m not reluctant to express my views. I feel strongly about most of them.  Mainly, my views are not main stream, at least not most of the time. That’s another thing I think.  That’s a lot of thinking.

The views we hear expressed on TV are most often not my views.  Views from the print and broadcast media so often seem different from my own. A lot of people I know seem to have those views.  I don’t think they thought about it too much.  Maybe they just overheard Meredith Veira  or Diane Sawyer for a few minutes as they were eating dinner.  You know, it just kind of stuck with them.

Movies give the directors’ and producers’ point of view.  I want to give my point of view, too.  So I’m going to write what I think.

I have favorites - favorite books and favorite places.  I have favorite movies; my favorites, not the ones Siskel (is he the one still alive) and Ebert say I should like.  I do my own thinking when it comes to movies.  I think I like the movies ordinary folks like….maybe not the Academy Award winners. I’m going to tell about my favorite movies when I tip a few at Murphy’s Tavern

I don’t depend on Good Morning America to tell me what I must do to live a long and healthy life.  I’m quite capable of finding out myself.  I rely on myself that way.  I don’t need Matt Lauer telling me how to deal with my depression, reminding me to get my prostate checked, and telling me to talk to my children more so they won’t do drugs.

Who is Matt Lauer anyway?  How do I know he’s a decent father?  How’s his prostate?  He looks like a pretty depressed fellow.  He depresses me! 

Some people tell me I’m a sensitive guy.  I think that means they think I take things too seriously.  Maybe that’s the way they see it.   I think I feel things other people don’t.  That’s another thing I think.  I think if you’re sensitive, that means you’re in touch with people’s feeling.  I think that’s a good thing. 

I don’t like to complain.  Some who know me say I complain too much.  They say I complain about things I can’t do anything about.  My daughter says I’m too concerned with things no one else seems to make much of.  Maybe she’s right.  I’m concerned about that.  She worries about me.  She thinks my stress level is unhealthy.  I tell her I’m not worrying, I’m just venting.  I think venting is good.

I’m going to write about my likes and dislikes. I’m going to talk about successes.  And to be sure I don’t run out of material, I’m going to write about my failures, too.  There are things in the world that aren’t right.  I’ll mention them.   Maybe I can change them.  Maybe I can make a new beginning.  Maybe some one will become a little better for having known me.  And vice versa.

I ‘m not sure what I’ll write about next, but I have new experiences every day.  I watch and I listen. I keep my eyes open, wide open.  My hearing is very good, too; so good I often hear things people don’t say.  I’ll write about those things, too.

Mainly, I’m just going to say what I think, because…well, because that’s who I am and that’s what I think.

Major League Baseball may implement video re-plays. They may do it soon, perhaps introducing it during the upcoming division play-offs. Is bringing this technology to the National Pastime a good thing?

Baseball is pastoral. It is at once aesthetic and intellectual. It is a rite of spring, a contest between two teams afield a lush green lawn and a stone-red clay diamond. It is an intricate web of numbers and statistics, batting and earned-run averages, and wins versus losses.

It is the exhilaration of a close play at home plate and the tension awaiting the umpire’s verdict. It is a fleeting hopefulness reluctantly ceding way to a wrenching agony as a home-run slam veers foul at just the last second.

It is as much the taste of the hot dog as the smell of the gloves of leather wafting in on the spring breeze blowing in from center. It is the crack of the bat and the ovations spurred on by the flight of a ball passing beyond the park’s outermost boundary.

There is no clock. There is no rush. Instead, there is leisure in the pace, a welcome escape from Monday thru Friday’s nine-to-five brain-numbing grind. There is a solace to be known in realizing the game just might go on forever.

It is the pride in our nation and the patriotism we demonstrate in the preamble to every game – the anthem. It is peanuts and cracker jacks and hot dogs and beer and “Take me out to the ballgame.” It is the camaraderie amongst the fans and the seventh inning stretch.

There is enough technology at the ballpark now: Monster digital scoreboards playing funnies between innings, state of the art sound systems blasting loud rock and rap music between innings, and cell phones a plenty in the hands of the ‘casual’ fan, the one who would rather be somewhere else. There are iPods to amuse listeners lest they be bored as the game slows. And there are radar guns and dozens of TV cameras that make us witness to every single angle of the game.

Who needs video replay? The game has gotten along just fine for over 100 years. And besides, arguments over close calls are in the culture of the game. The resulting antics are pure entertainment: An irate manager, claiming to have been wronged by a bone-headed call, kicking up dirt and yelling face to face at a resolute, unyielding umpire while the fans erupt in ecstasy. It is pure baseball lore. It is classic. It should not be infringed upon.

Baseball has gained a wider audience in recent years. It has become an international spectacle owing to the success of contemporary marketing techniques and gadgetry. But at its core, the game’s tradition is uniquely American. It is Mom and Dad’s, and Grandpa and Grandma’s game.

I hope we keep it that way for there is value in leaving the finer things “un-modernized.” They have survived the passing fads, resisted profound change, and emerged just as they have always been because they are good just as they are. They are the best. They should remain as they are: A perpetual reminder that the past was simpler, hot dogs with dad tasted better, and spring was longer. And maybe, just maybe the game will go on forever.