God bless Ryan Rusch, Brian Smith, Aaron Elleman and Rob Apple.
They're some of God's chosen people whose helping hands helped us clean up our camp site and reconstruct it thanks to their generosity.
What a great weekend!
Rotnei Clark wowed the Razorbacks with 51 points and an SEC record 13 trifectas.
Ryan Mallett and Co. walloped Troy.
I was blessed with a new Arkansas Razorback vest for basketball games.
It was the vest of times (to paraphrase Charlie Dickens).
I'm having a dickens of a time with the Fayetteville men in blue, though.
One duo said we didn't have permission to camp out on Markham Hill.
Then we find out the landowners don't mind.
What in the wide, wide world of tents is going on?
Life goes on in paradise.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
hogblog
Last night was some kind of wonderful!
I was awarded a Hog sweater vest to wear at the basketball games.
That gave me a giddy feeling.
Then, after reminiscing about my memories of Razorback basketball, Rotnei Clark razzled and dazzled with 51 points, highlighted by 13 treys.
Awesome baby!
When Clark swished his 13th trifecta pushing his point production to 51 points the Bud Walton Arena crowd's crescendo echoed like a national championship performance.
Clark outscored the Alcorn State team, 51-49, at that juncture.
And a freshman tallied 28 points quietly compared to Clark's bravura performance.
I remember when Martin Terry rattled the nets for 47 points the prior highest-scoring output by a Razorback and that preceded the inception of three-point shooting. Who knows how many he would've accumulated.
Looks foreboding for future Razorback foes.
The Hogs will get a true test on Tuesday when they battle the Louisville Cardinals in St. Louis.
Here's hoping the Hogs trounce Troy today and qualify for a bowl game.
Everyone was impressed with my dress attire at the Wiggins Methodist feed.
I was awarded a Hog sweater vest to wear at the basketball games.
That gave me a giddy feeling.
Then, after reminiscing about my memories of Razorback basketball, Rotnei Clark razzled and dazzled with 51 points, highlighted by 13 treys.
Awesome baby!
When Clark swished his 13th trifecta pushing his point production to 51 points the Bud Walton Arena crowd's crescendo echoed like a national championship performance.
Clark outscored the Alcorn State team, 51-49, at that juncture.
And a freshman tallied 28 points quietly compared to Clark's bravura performance.
I remember when Martin Terry rattled the nets for 47 points the prior highest-scoring output by a Razorback and that preceded the inception of three-point shooting. Who knows how many he would've accumulated.
Looks foreboding for future Razorback foes.
The Hogs will get a true test on Tuesday when they battle the Louisville Cardinals in St. Louis.
Here's hoping the Hogs trounce Troy today and qualify for a bowl game.
Everyone was impressed with my dress attire at the Wiggins Methodist feed.
Monday, November 9, 2009
eviction
Lou Holtz once deadpanned, "The light at the end of the tunnel might be an onrushing train."
Last week I felt like I was on cloud nine.
I worked 30 hours ushering and hoped to have a nice deposit on Tuesday, Nov. 10
Alas, I've been told I'll only be paid 7 1/2 hours and then on Nov. 25 I'll get a larger sum.
Hurry up and wait.
I have a friend who's facing eviction from his campsite.
One of his friends moved.
The other one can't decide what to do.
I'm the other one.
I know the secret to life is making the right decisions.
One part of me says find the lady who owns the property and get her permission to be there.
Or I could move to another location.
Or I could go to Bentonville and stay with friends there.
On Tuesday I have an appointment with a writer from the Arkansas Traveler who wants to interview me about being homeless around Thanksgiving.
So what do I do?
I caught betwixt and between.
This ain't my first rodeo.
I've walked this lonely street before and it ain't fun.
Pardon my foul language!
God please help me make the right decisions.
Thanks to anyone who can give me some good advice because I need some input on this onrushing train.
Last week I felt like I was on cloud nine.
I worked 30 hours ushering and hoped to have a nice deposit on Tuesday, Nov. 10
Alas, I've been told I'll only be paid 7 1/2 hours and then on Nov. 25 I'll get a larger sum.
Hurry up and wait.
I have a friend who's facing eviction from his campsite.
One of his friends moved.
The other one can't decide what to do.
I'm the other one.
I know the secret to life is making the right decisions.
One part of me says find the lady who owns the property and get her permission to be there.
Or I could move to another location.
Or I could go to Bentonville and stay with friends there.
On Tuesday I have an appointment with a writer from the Arkansas Traveler who wants to interview me about being homeless around Thanksgiving.
So what do I do?
I caught betwixt and between.
This ain't my first rodeo.
I've walked this lonely street before and it ain't fun.
Pardon my foul language!
God please help me make the right decisions.
Thanks to anyone who can give me some good advice because I need some input on this onrushing train.
Friday, November 6, 2009
whew
For the first time in I don't know when I took four showers this week.
I was readying myself for football and basketball games.
Ironically, I went to Dollar General Tuesday night to buy a pair of white underwear for a friend who vowed he was going to court and then to jail.
Instead I purchased two bars of Irish Green soap for $1
I made the right decision because my friend copped out (pun intended) and earned an FTA.
Now he's on the lam.
He told someone he was mad at me for bolting from our camp just because the police woke us up at 1:30 a.m. and threatened us and harassed us.
I'm sorry but I've been falsely arrested twice and spent 107 days in jail for something I didn't do.
Then I got arrested for criminal trespassing while sleeping in a friend's apartment.
Yes, I am paranoid about the police and their unjust treatment of homeless.
It's been a busy week with ushering and showering and trying to find a place to sleep every night.
Who said being homeless was a humdrum boring existence?
I've also been communicating with friends from the past on Facebook.
I've attained paperwork for public housing.
So, if all goes well I'm going to start saving money and hopefully be able to afford my own space again.
I'm tired of sleeping in a tent and I'm tired of dealing with the inhospitable Fayetteville blue boys.
Just because one finally has a job and an income doesn't mean he lives on easy street.
One friend told me, "Boy, David, you're going to be rich!"
Bah, humbug!
I was readying myself for football and basketball games.
Ironically, I went to Dollar General Tuesday night to buy a pair of white underwear for a friend who vowed he was going to court and then to jail.
Instead I purchased two bars of Irish Green soap for $1
I made the right decision because my friend copped out (pun intended) and earned an FTA.
Now he's on the lam.
He told someone he was mad at me for bolting from our camp just because the police woke us up at 1:30 a.m. and threatened us and harassed us.
I'm sorry but I've been falsely arrested twice and spent 107 days in jail for something I didn't do.
Then I got arrested for criminal trespassing while sleeping in a friend's apartment.
Yes, I am paranoid about the police and their unjust treatment of homeless.
It's been a busy week with ushering and showering and trying to find a place to sleep every night.
Who said being homeless was a humdrum boring existence?
I've also been communicating with friends from the past on Facebook.
I've attained paperwork for public housing.
So, if all goes well I'm going to start saving money and hopefully be able to afford my own space again.
I'm tired of sleeping in a tent and I'm tired of dealing with the inhospitable Fayetteville blue boys.
Just because one finally has a job and an income doesn't mean he lives on easy street.
One friend told me, "Boy, David, you're going to be rich!"
Bah, humbug!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
coping
Into every life some rain must fall.
But none of us ask for a flood or an avalanche.
Unfortunately some among us desire to fight the world with fisticuffs and be bullies.
I've tried to temper a man's temper but to no avail this time.
I'm not running from him. I'm avoiding him.
He's mad at me for decamping.
But two Fayetteville police rudely awakened us at 1:30 a.m. Wednesday.
They lectured us on the precepts that we were on private property and had no right to be there.
The police lady told the bully she knew about him beating up an unfortunate American Indian.
That's my theory about who squealed on our whereabouts.
But the tough get tougher.
We must battle the elements and sometimes the tempestuous taunts of tormentors.
One night the man in question claims he's never had a failure to appear.
But his bully buddy talked him into weaseling out and not going to court Wednesday.
That's another reason I've abandoned my tent.
He said, "They'll have to catch me on the streets."
I pray for him in one way, but hope in another he gets what's coming to him.
But I'm not a narc. I won't go running for help from the police.
That's not my style.
At first the beaten man denied he told the police anything. But I've been informed he did tell them who beat him up and where they could find him.
They did not charge my campmate with any charges which surprises me.
The puzzling aspect of this whole shebang is that this guy ended up in the ICU because of his thug so-called friend. And now they're bosom buddies. I heard from a Razorback Transit driver that he banned one of them from riding his bus. Now he knows the rest of the story, too.
Sometimes venting one's rage soothes the emotions.
There's no real cathartic effect though.
I now see why homeless individuals don't trust others. They've been abused or misused or seen violence when it was uncalled for.
I just hope to retrieve my stuff and move on. I have a friend who's offered to help me relocate. I think he and I see eye to eye and respect each other.
He told me once in the library he admires me and my intellect.
Likewise, a sports writer friend of mine told John Phillips, one of the usher supervisors, that I had the highest IQ of any of the ushers.
That's very comforting to know.
I also was blessed when Curt Yates, usher supervisor, asked me if I wanted to usher the Lady Razorbacks game Wednesday night. There were only 12 of us and that gave me an inner boost of confidence that I had been one of the select few.
I'm still very humble though.
When and if I have time and a laptop I plan on writing a book entitled, "Another Day in Paradise."
I would appreciate some comments, though.
Or an e-mail to davidlanier1951@gmail.com.
I need support in this tremulous crisis.
But none of us ask for a flood or an avalanche.
Unfortunately some among us desire to fight the world with fisticuffs and be bullies.
I've tried to temper a man's temper but to no avail this time.
I'm not running from him. I'm avoiding him.
He's mad at me for decamping.
But two Fayetteville police rudely awakened us at 1:30 a.m. Wednesday.
They lectured us on the precepts that we were on private property and had no right to be there.
The police lady told the bully she knew about him beating up an unfortunate American Indian.
That's my theory about who squealed on our whereabouts.
But the tough get tougher.
We must battle the elements and sometimes the tempestuous taunts of tormentors.
One night the man in question claims he's never had a failure to appear.
But his bully buddy talked him into weaseling out and not going to court Wednesday.
That's another reason I've abandoned my tent.
He said, "They'll have to catch me on the streets."
I pray for him in one way, but hope in another he gets what's coming to him.
But I'm not a narc. I won't go running for help from the police.
That's not my style.
At first the beaten man denied he told the police anything. But I've been informed he did tell them who beat him up and where they could find him.
They did not charge my campmate with any charges which surprises me.
The puzzling aspect of this whole shebang is that this guy ended up in the ICU because of his thug so-called friend. And now they're bosom buddies. I heard from a Razorback Transit driver that he banned one of them from riding his bus. Now he knows the rest of the story, too.
Sometimes venting one's rage soothes the emotions.
There's no real cathartic effect though.
I now see why homeless individuals don't trust others. They've been abused or misused or seen violence when it was uncalled for.
I just hope to retrieve my stuff and move on. I have a friend who's offered to help me relocate. I think he and I see eye to eye and respect each other.
He told me once in the library he admires me and my intellect.
Likewise, a sports writer friend of mine told John Phillips, one of the usher supervisors, that I had the highest IQ of any of the ushers.
That's very comforting to know.
I also was blessed when Curt Yates, usher supervisor, asked me if I wanted to usher the Lady Razorbacks game Wednesday night. There were only 12 of us and that gave me an inner boost of confidence that I had been one of the select few.
I'm still very humble though.
When and if I have time and a laptop I plan on writing a book entitled, "Another Day in Paradise."
I would appreciate some comments, though.
Or an e-mail to davidlanier1951@gmail.com.
I need support in this tremulous crisis.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Saints
Today was All Saints Sunday.
At Wiggins Methodist Church the minister solemnly read the names of those Saints who had gone to their heavenly home the past year.
They rang a bell for each Saint.
That reminded me of when I gave a eulogy at my mother's funeral and said, "My mother wasn't a Roman Catholic but I would nominate her for sainthood."
When my father was being eulogized by four different ministers (plus me) one of them mentioned about him being a saint.
I ain't no saint.
But I also remember winning an award for a headline I wrote when the New Orleans Saints were coached by Jim Mora.
My prize-winning headline, "The Saints Ain't Aints No Mora."
Memories of Saints can be categorized metaphorically (as religious saints) and as sports-related Saints.
I also remember when the New Orleans Saints played their first game back in the Super Bowl and Bono and Greenday sang a tribute song paraphrasing "The House of the Rising Sun."
"There is a house in New Orleans, they call the Superdome."
I've been there once.
When Arkansas played Alabama in the Sugar Bowl and I had to cover the Alabama dressing room after they'd trounced the Razorbacks and capture the national championship.
I couldn't understand a word Bear Bryant said. He sounded like a bullfrog.
What a plethora of memories!
Thanks for the memories.
At Wiggins Methodist Church the minister solemnly read the names of those Saints who had gone to their heavenly home the past year.
They rang a bell for each Saint.
That reminded me of when I gave a eulogy at my mother's funeral and said, "My mother wasn't a Roman Catholic but I would nominate her for sainthood."
When my father was being eulogized by four different ministers (plus me) one of them mentioned about him being a saint.
I ain't no saint.
But I also remember winning an award for a headline I wrote when the New Orleans Saints were coached by Jim Mora.
My prize-winning headline, "The Saints Ain't Aints No Mora."
Memories of Saints can be categorized metaphorically (as religious saints) and as sports-related Saints.
I also remember when the New Orleans Saints played their first game back in the Super Bowl and Bono and Greenday sang a tribute song paraphrasing "The House of the Rising Sun."
"There is a house in New Orleans, they call the Superdome."
I've been there once.
When Arkansas played Alabama in the Sugar Bowl and I had to cover the Alabama dressing room after they'd trounced the Razorbacks and capture the national championship.
I couldn't understand a word Bear Bryant said. He sounded like a bullfrog.
What a plethora of memories!
Thanks for the memories.
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