Gads.

I never thought I would be here today…pecking away on a theme about FACEBOOK.

At this writing, I do not manage a facebook account.  This is a direct derivative of what used to be our internet capability at home.  For the very longest time while most of our environs had moved into the 21st century with their phones (still can’t get much cell service where we live) and high speed internet through phone lines (I tried…we are not important enough to warrant a few feet of wire), we were relegated for years to depend on dial-up internet, land-line phones, and a very punctual mail delivery and the morning paper (after years of begging for delivery of that).

You get the picture.

We just were not equipped to facebook.  I heard a great deal (the previous two words serve as a better alternative to the mundane “a lot”…what can I say, I was trained to be mindful of the English language)  about facebook  and it sounded pretty cool.  Carrie, my dear wife, and I even tried to get a facebook account to work after much deliberation.  We started one and got so frustrated waiting for the dial-up to get going, all the ice melting out of my tea glass that by the time we were ready to start facebooking  we were both tired and ready to go to bed.

We had an account and we ignored it.

Folks, however, did not ignore us…though they obviously thought we were ignoring them.

Translation:  when we got high speed internet to our house, thanks to yet another satellite receiver that protrudes like a large booger off the face of our screened-in back porch. When we checked said facebook account after we spent the same amount of time waiting on the old dial-up trying to formulate our passwords and such…that when we got it right…it was so overwhelming.

Carrie and I  pride ourselves in trying to be friendly sorts regardless of the circumstances; we had managed to ignore over 500 people whom had tried to “friend” us.  Not friendly at all on our part.  So we did what we had to do at the moment.  No sooner did we get capacity to facebook, we felt so bad about the folks we had ignored we cancelled our account.  How pleasant of us.

So what to do what to do?  We did nothing.

Carrie and I both work in the education field.  We are both observant when we want to be.  We were without facebook for so long it just did not matter.  Before too long, however, we were hearing accounts of facebook that we did not enjoy listening to.

Example:  Two students are into it at school because one called the other a “potty-mouthed lover of bad fiction” (I politely paraphrase here).

Example:  A friend of mine is a basketball coach and  ball coaches apparently take their facebook serious.  To me it is also serious when my friend says “Boy,  I really got blasted on facebook last night.”

And this is supposed to be a good thing?.

As time has gone on…quickly, I might add…attitudes about facebook have changed.  It is a permeated part of our society.  Nowadays when someone asks if I facebook and I tell them no, it seems like I am some sort of a snob.  “I don’t facebook” just sounds a bit class- conscious.

Well.  I don’t feel class-conscious.  I started a twitter account recently for goodness sake…and today upon learning about my new “speaktherights.com” page, I was asked if I have a related facebook page.

So there you have it.  It is time for me to join the facebook age…if only for a few minutes.  We’ll see, maybe it will go better this time.  In the meantime, I am going to try to figure out how to start up a facebook account that might help all of us to speak the rights.

Peace to all…and wish me facebooking luck!

Danny Johnson

My dear wife, Carrie, and I got home yesterday after the most lengthy vacation we have ever known. It was a great deal of fun.  We saw many interesting places, saw very friendly faces, and found a way to park our car into some very small spaces.  That’s what happens I suppose when you visit the Northeast.  In the big cities parking a car can take more planning than what you intend to do the rest of the day.  We were fortunate to take a train to New York City’s Grand Central Station…the place that inspired ants to build their transportation underground.

We were also fortunate enough to visit some dear friends during our travels.  Bob and Michelle live in New Hampshire in a nice quiet neighborhood settled in a peaceful town.  They have three children.  Davis will be a sophomore in high school.  Sabra and Siera will be heading to the all important 5th grade come next school year.  We visited their schools while we were there.  Give it to the Northeast; education is stressed.

Our time spent with our dear friends was memorable.  We laughed and shared stories.  Some good.  Some great.  This was a very relaxing time for Carrie and me.  It always helps to visit folks you feel comfortable around.  That was the case and more in New Hampshire.

I’d be remiss if I did not mention one of the greatest things about the Northeast is the ability to find newspapers…more than you’d read in one day.  I had a blast taking in The Boston Globe, The Daily News, The New York Post, The Boston Herald, New Hampshire Union-Leader, The Concord Monitor…all on one news stand in a grocery store!  Wow.  I left out The New York Times on purpose, by the way.

Through it all: the good fellowship, the laughter, the good food, and the fun…there is one night from this trip that I will always remember.

God Bless Him!  Bob took me to Fenway Park to watch the Boston Red Sox play the Chicago Cubs.  It was a surreal experience.

I have been to my share of events.  I saw Billy Graham in Louisville.  I have seen 64 of the 128  major college football teams in this land play the game in person.  I have been fortunate enough to see Paul McCartney sing four times.  I have seen all but one of the National League Baseball teams play and I have been to two…make that three American League stadiums too.  And don’t ask me how many times I have seen The Moody Blues…that is another column.

Bob took me to FENWAY PARK…the oldest ballpark in the country, having served as the home of the Red Sox since 1912.

I don’t mind a little nostalgia.  The right song will put me back to where I heard it.  I was in a pipe organ shop recently and I  swear I could smell my grandfather’s old shop and tools he used and the ones he looked at.

Fenway Park is full of nostalgia for me.  And what is perfect is that I did not have to drive to the ball park.  I drive ALL the time.  On this night, however, Bob drove.  We were in his neck of the woods.  I got to play curious, excited, child-like passenger.  I was all of those.

As we made our way to our seats along the first base line, I was staring out at the famed left-field wall, The Green Monster, they call it, given its enormous height.  All I could think about was Carlton Fisk’s home run in the 1975 World Series against the Cincinnati Reds (my team) that occurred in the 12th inning of  Game Six.  He hit a towering shot down the left-field line; the ball looked like it might be foul…Fisk waved his arms as he made his way down the first base line begging the ball to stay fair.  It did.  Home Run.  I looked down at the very space that, to me, is the most special moment in the history of a great game.

As the game went on, I nervously texted my dear Carrie to tell her what I was feeling and seeing.  Fisk all over again.

An inning later, beyond my wildest dreams, on the video board in right-center field, they showed footage of the Game Six Homer by Carlton Fisk.  Then they showed him waving at a live camera, as hew was in attendance.  I was one goose-bump.

Thanks to Bob, for taking me out to the ball game.

Danny Johnson

I could barely keep my camera still.

Good question…

Hopefully a good answer.

I like the sound of it.  It sounds true.  Truth is a very good thing.  The truth will set you free from the bondage of untruth.  That does sound good.

I tell many folks I don’t believe in fairness.  It is the stuff of mythology.  I gave a eulogy at a friend’s funeral in May of this year.  I looked at his grown son and I said what I had to: life is not fair.

While I do not believe in fairness I do believe in good and bad.  I do believe in wrong and right.  When we speak wrongly we have screwed up.  We all do it.

It just feels good to speak the rights.

Hopefully no one out there will mistaken the connotation of “rights” with political overtures. That would be to err.  Just like we are not talking about “rights” as a notion of…gulp…fairness.  That would be a painful mistake.

Speak the rights really took on a life of its own when I was broadcasting high school football games.  My buddy Gus Stephenson and I had a grand time for a while relaying the plaudits of the athletic endeavors of teenage heroes on the gridiron.  We enjoyed doing so for a number of years until it was time to move on.  When I would agree with Gus at times, I would steal a line from a Shakespearean play where the character says to another: “Thou speak’st aright”.

I would say to Gus in agreement of his explanation to what happened on the following play: “You speak the rights, Gus”.  It became a part of the lexicon of many around me.  I just figured it must be time to share.

A number of years ago I wrote a weekly human interest column for a fledgling and now defunct local newspaper.  I was flattered by the offer to share on a regular basis.  I thoroughly enjoyed it.  I got a kick outta folks agreeing with what I said.  I enjoyed it much more when I made someone laugh.  I did not enjoy getting chewed out by my mother for using the word “hell” in a column.  I’ll try not to do that again.

I will, however, within the confines of this space…quite oxymoronic in the year 2014.  Does anyone else out there still want to date a document starting with 19…?  I am guilty, on occasion.

Let me thank my dear wife Carrie for putting me behind each letter I type here today.  She reminded me that…and convinced me that…all the column writing I did needed a comeback.  She was right when she told me folks enjoyed what I wrote about.  I just hope that will find a way to continue as I write some more.

I will write about friendship, sports, love, faith, music, time, work, movies, travel, family, history, heartache, politics, movies, schools, and whatever else may present itself that day.

Regardless…and sometimes it may hurt a little…I will speak the rights.

Danny Johnson