Warriors
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
Warriors need to be praised. ----- Young men have always been warriors. They’d go fight the battles while the elders sat around the campfire. The elders decided if fighting was the right thing and when and how to do it. The warriors executed the plan. When they returned, they were glorified for their success, or they were coddled in their loss. Either way, they were praised for their efforts. Most old men don’t seek glory like young men do. Something happens after about forty years old, where glory no longer drives behavior. Old men prefer instruction and guidance. Not glory. Learning from...
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Gettin' Through it Together
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
It's been a tough few weeks. This commentary offers no specifics, but I've learned some things. ----- Many years ago, my neighbor in Charlotte, North Carolina knocked on my door one weekday afternoon. His wife had just told him she’s leaving. She climbed her car and drove away. He was dumbstruck and he needed to talk. My wife and I had just moved in. I hardly knew him. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I froze. To my everlasting shame, I rushed our conversation so he’d stop making ME feel uncomfortable. I realized years later he was crying out for help and I failed him. I know...
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North
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
My wife and I were headed to a cocktail reception where we knew no one. "This is an opportunity," I said. ----- My wife and I were driving to a short cocktail reception full of people we’d never met. Most of them knew one another. Us? Not a soul. This is an opportunity, I said. Let’s run with it. I proposed that she and I create a story for ourselves. Pick a personality and a background and a job. We’ll create something bordering on sensational and come up with a few very specific details that will make whomever we talk to truly wonder. About us. About whether we’re telling the truth....
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Burning Our Brains
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
The heat's cooked our brains. ------ The heat’s taken its toll. It’s been unrelenting. Brutal. The greenery looks weary. The grass dries and turns brown within hours of any moisture. My car thermometer regularly reads around 110 and I saw online that it feels much hotter. We need a break. We need relief. My dog looks at me and says “No way I’m walking on that street. That street will burn my feet right off” and she’s right. It's affecting us mentally. We’re budding on crazy. It’s cooked our brains. Recent headlines are all you need to see. A lady in Birmingham faked her...
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Crossing
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
Last week I danced in front of a train to try to get it to move. ----- Trains have always held great symbolic meaning. They represent the future, a new destination, an opportunity. In movies, the characters board trains in the hopes of greater things down the tracks. Lovers tearfully depart at train stations. Though tragic it’s what’s best for each of them. Bandits of the wild west knew there was a strong box on a train full of money. Convicts break out of jail and if they can make it to the train it will take them away from the misery of prison. Songs, too. The Midnight Special. Midnight...
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Caricature
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
This week I take an imaginary walk through Jackson Square in New Orleans and ask a caricature artist to draw me something...different. ----- There are sections of our society that have become parodies of themselves. Once proud, they’re now laughable forms of their former self. Imagine this: You’re walking through the New Orleans French Quarter. You stop at one of the caricature artists on Jackson Square. You say, “Hey Mr Caricature artist. I don’t want a picture of me. I want you to draw a picture of, let’s say, today’s country music.” That caricature artist would draw...
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Thirty Years
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
After thirty years of the same family tradition - I give some thought to the future. ----- For the thirtieth year in a row my SUV left my garage headed for the North Carolina Coast the second to last Saturday in July. If we weren’t in it, it would go by itself. It’s what we do. It’s what the car does. And it was packed tight with everything from fishing gear, to bed sheets, to food, to 150 oysters in the shell on ice, two cakes from Bake My Day, and a case of get-along juice, also known as wine. My in-laws have rented a house on Ocean Isle Beach in North Carolina every summer and we are...
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Bunge
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
She hopped to the edge of the platform, raised her arms, and jumped. ----- The video opened on my phone and my daughter was leaping off a bridge and falling out of the frame. It took my breath away. I watched it again and texted her. “Since you sent this to me,” I said, “I assume you survived the fall?” “Yea,” she texted back. “It was awesome.” She’s in South Africa as I write this. She’s spent the month there with a student group called Lead Abroad. It’s a one-month trip where she and about thirty others study leadership and communication skills while experiencing the...
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Coffee with Milo
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
A cup of coffee with a friend and a few strangers was a wonderful start to a great day not long ago. ----- I’d like to say Hello to Randy Fowler. On Friday mornings he’s in his car on his way to the Restaurant Five in downtown Tuscaloosa with his dog Milo. He’s a regular listener to these commentaries and he reached out to me a few years ago when he liked one to offer a compliment. Turns out Randy’s daughter, Julie Otts, lives a few doors down from me here in Mobile. It’s a small world. Randy and I have visited a few times when he’s in town to visit his daughter, son-in-law, and...
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Tinkle Bell
Keepin' It Real with Cam Marston
I have an idea for a business. Make up words customers can't understand then upcharge 75%. ----- I think our dog is constipated. She rung her tinkle bell early early in the morning to go outside and she just roamed around the yard in a hurry with her nose down. I have no idea if this is what a constipated dog looks like. I’m assuming that’s her issue. She appears to want to do something but…can’t. The tinkle bell hangs next to the back door. The dog rings it with her nose when she needs to go out. In the wee hours my wife or I stand bleary-eyed in the door waiting for her to do her...
info_outlineLots of sights and sounds at New Orleans Jazz Fest.
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My wife, a college friend and I stood amidst the peace and quiet of Jazz Fest in New Orleans last weekend along with what must have been 100,000 of our closest friends. It was a sight.
When my wife and I told our friends we were going, they reacted the same was as when I told them we were going to Mexico for spring break – “Oh no,” they said. “That’s dangerous over there. You’re going to get shot.” During my thirty-six hours in New Orleans, I never once felt unsafe. To the great disappointment of my schadenfreude friends, we returned to Mobile unscathed. Which has led me to the conclusion that many of my friends are ninnies and are best left at home.
I’m hoping heaven is a lot like the Gospel Stage at Jazz Fest. A cool breeze blew through the tented area. People were happy to slide a chair or two over to make room us. Most importantly, there were chairs. And, wow, the music. Argue if you want, but there’s more energy coming from the Gospel Stage than any other Jazz Fest stage. When you’re singing about the glory of the Lord, energy comes naturally. And when this middle aged, overweight, thinning haired white guy rose to his feet waiving his palms in the air to show that the spirit was moving…well, I couldn’t believe myself. It was very out of character. But I felt it. And I loved it.
One thing I don’t love are large sweaty shirtless men. Or even small sweaty shirtless men. And there were a lot of them at Jazz Fest. They were everywhere. We left the Gospel Tent to wander the exhibits and try the food…and they were everywhere. One of the hardest movie scenes to watch ever is the scene from Along Came Polly when Ben Stiller’s character plays basketball and, well, rubs up against a big sweaty guy. If you know what I’m talking about, you know. That was my fear. Shirts should be required when you’re standing in crowded areas waiting for the acts to start. And when the music starts, the shirtless men more than others, become quite the charismatic dancers. I minded my own business, but I kept them in my periphery hoping I wouldn’t have one of those Ben Stiller moments and have to wash my entire body in molten lava or, more likely, decide my life was simply no longer worth it.
After watching Jon Cleary play some fantastic funk music, we turned to leave and hordes of people were filing in to see Kenny Loggins finish out the day on that same stage. You gotta respect Kenny Loggins but, for me, his music isn’t good enough to risk proximity to gobs of sweaty, shirtless, charismatic dancing men. Not my scene. But in they marched, packing the area, eager for Kenny Loggins.
They were excited to get Footloose as they headed into the shirtless Danger Zone. Don’t Fight It. This is It. And as for me not seeing Kenny’s show, I’m Alright.
I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep it Real.