Written whilst listening to the Soundtrack of the 1980 movie Somewhere In Time.  No words.  Beautiful music.

Am I blue?

I am.  It has been a summer like no other.  I remember last summer.  Carrie and I were feeling bad because we were relagated to sitting in the front yard in lawn chairs reading good books wishing we could hit the road.  We couldn’t hit the road.  Covid saw to that.  What I would give to have that summer back.

In the space of 19 days, our boys, Jarrett and Cody lost their Dad, Barry Beckett, as he was diving in Key West on June 15 and then Jarrett’s long time girfriend, Sarah Danielle Hutchinson, was killed in a boating accident in West Virginia on the 4th of July soon after Jarrett told her and her old IU college buddies to have a good time.

Sarah was a shining light in our lives.  I miss that light.

This is a picture of Sarah playing soccer back in the day.  She was a determined young lady.  About to finish a second master’s degree and attain her status as a Physician’s Assistant, she was a driven young lady.  I have no doubt she kicked a few shins.

I have not posted anything original here since June 22.  I have not felt like it.  Not at all.

Life happens.

And as we keep moving forward, as we keep pressing onward, some good things happen too.

I am back at North Harrison High School.  No, I am not in this counseling office; I am across the hall in Room 104.  And I am so glad to be there.  I will once again be back where it all started for me.  Teaching English is a passion.  Helping students to manipulate the English language to their benefit for the rest of their lives is my ultimate goal as an English teacher.  We’re going to have a good time.

I wore this T shirt on the field at The Rose Bowl when I got to swing my leg there in 2018.  Each time I see that shirt on that field, it makes me smile.  Given I landed here in Northland during the Carter Administration, I know what it means.

My classroom is ready.  And I am so excited to meet my new students.

It is going to be a good time.  Lord knows we could all use it!

Speaking the rights,

Danny Johnson  Room 104

SO I WAS TRYING TO BRING SOMETHING OUT TO WRITE ABOUT.  IT HAS BEEN OVER A MONTH SINCE I POSTED ANYTHING.  WE HAVE HAD A ROUGH PATCH AND WE WILL PRESS ONWARD.  SO I DECIDED TO REACH BACK TO THE EARLIEST ARCHIVES.  This first ran on speaktherights.com on this date in 2014 the year we started this. 

One of the toughest things I have ever had to witness is watching my dear wife, Carrie,  have a tough time of it as she cared for her grandparents.  Both of them had Alzheimer or dementia or whatever you want to call it.

Her grandparents had outlived their own children, one son died of a heart ailment in 1982 and the other, Carrie’s father, died of a heart attack in 1999.

To this day I can remember the moment in time as I pulled into her grandparent’s driveway as I was about to head to Indianapolis to watch a minor league baseball game with a friend from Jackson County.  Carrie told me her grandmother had been acting strange.  Carrie’s demeanor told me something was bad wrong.  It was.  She never got her old grandma back again.  This was August 2003.

Slowly but surely things got worse… and worse.

Her grandma’s behavior became erratic and even hateful at times.

Looking back on what we call “the Missing Years”, I have no idea how we made it thorough that time had it not been for the grace of God to help us along the way.

For a period of years, Carrie and I…mostly she, stayed with her grandparents after we got home from work until it was time for them to go to bed.  We stayed with them on weekends also.  Her grandmother’s behavior and health got worse and worse as the years went on.

Eventually we had to employ a friend of the family to stay with them during the day until we got home to take over.  Again, looking back, I don’t know how we did it and kept our own sanity. Thanks be to God.

On December 18, 2006, we had no choice but to take Carrie’s grandmother to the hospital for treatment.  I remember it was a Monday and the Colts were playing the Bengals on Monday Night Football as I waited in a hospital waiting room.  Carrie’s good friend Michelle, who lived near Carrie’s grandparents, was at the hospital with us that night.

The worst of it was going back to tell her grandpa that his wife was not coming home.  That was my job.

Her grandfather did not handle it well.  He fell apart and soon he too was admitted to the hospital and like his wife, he was soon in a nursing home with her.

He died Easter Sunday, 2007.

His wife of many years died on Sunday, June 8, 2008.

When it was over, Carrie and I had to reintroduce ourselves to each other.  Sure, we got away now and again for a few days here and there…but our minds were never far from her grandparent’s kitchen table during this time.  Our hanging in there together only further galvanized an already solid steel union.

To this day I miss walking into her grandparents house to have her grandfather ask, “You want a cup of coffee?”  I didn’t drink the stuff at the time unless it was 5 degrees outside.

I also miss her grandmother asking me if I wanted a sandwich or a bowl of chili.  At her best, she always had something of a culinary nature at the ready.  I miss that.  I know Carrie does too.

We do what we do.  We press onward.

What prompted these words?

Well… I was looking at a picture I took of Carrie at a Bob Seger concert in 2011 at The Yum! Center in Louisville.  Though this was years after our sad ordeal with her grandparents was over, it still reminds me of the first time we saw Bob Seger… it was December 12, 2006 at Freedom Hall…just six days before we took her Grandma away from her home…the house she was born in.   Carrie and I so loved that concert.  Before that, seeing Bob Seger was just a dream of ours. We loved the respite it provided from one of the most turbulent times we have ever known.  The days that followed were even worse.

But…we pressed onward.  We lived to tell the story.  For Carrie and me, the story always includes music.

I was totally in awe of the the picture I took of Carrie at the Bob Seger concert in 2011.  It reminded me of Seger’s Live Bullet album cover from 1975.  I thought it was the coolest thing I had ever seen.  It’s still pretty close.  To me it a perfect symbol of the hectic time we spent with her grandparents…yet there is still a smile to be had in there somewhere…down on Mainstreet…speaking the rights.

 Carrie at Seger in 2011.

Seger at Seger in 1975

MASS MoCA.

Sounds like a powerful coffee drink at first glance.  I am sure they had a cup that packed a punch at the snack bar.  That is just speculation.

In North Adams, Massachusetts, you can find MASS MoCA.

The Massachusettes Museum of Contemporay Art.

The last museum of modern art my dear wife, Carrie, and I visited was the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis many years ago.

Look, I am not purporting to be a great art critic by any means.  Heck, if it hadn’t been raining, we would have gone to look at flowers at the Berkshire Botanical Garden in Stockbridge.  As many times as we have meandered to the Berkshires, we have only threatend to go check out MASS MoCA.  This year we made it.

As much as I enjoy gazing at a Monet or put the pieces of a Picasso together, I too enjoy the imagery and light that I find in some modern art.  Look, as long a Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” is at home at the Art Institute of Chicago, that museum will never cease to be my mothership of art.

Still, taking in many of the pieces at MASS MoCA was a most pleasant experience.

I was able to take photos of many of the exhibits, though some were off limits.

Both ends of this piece.

There were many more but I did not photo them all.

What is it?

Now and again a vision out the window provided a bit of an impression too.

So too were some of the walkways from one building to another.

I am a sucker for light in my art taste.  Stems from how Hopper can brighten up and contrast a scene like no other for me.

The buildings across the way were great to look to.

We had plenty company.

My favorite picture of the day; I think it is.

Enjoyed looking here as well.

I will never be the art expert I would like to be.  But in the end its not about knowing so much as feeling when it comes to favoring an artistic exhibit.  Don’t get me wrong.  There were a few exhibits that were not my cup of porridge at MASS MoCA.  I walked on to enjoy what I wanted to next.  I did not waste time complaining about that which I can’t and have no right to control.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

The Marc Cohn song “Walking in Memphis” comes to mind as I write this post.

Earlier this month I took a walk in Indianapolis as my dear wife, Carrie, was on a Zoom Meeting call.

Monument Circle in Indy is impressive.  Seen it many times lit up during a Monday Night Football telecast that does not give this thing justice.

The Indiana State Capitol building.

The last time I was in this building I was with Brad McCammon picking up a 10,000 dollar check for Medora Schools from Tony Bennett.  The check looked like one you would get from Publisher’s Clearing House.  It was awkward, given Gov. Daniels seemed set on closing small schools.  Bennett gave his signature “three point” speech.

Indy’s Circle Center Mall.  Many a good burger was eaten here before a Colts game.

What a beautiful Catholic Church not far from Lucas Oil Stadium.  This church has been here a great deal longer, I can tell you.

It is lovely.  I sat in a pew and said a few prayers.  There is a different and better world in a church sancutary.

Exterior view of church getting some work.

Serious work.

Indy bragging of its college basketball legacy.  My brother-in-law swears I am the holder of the record of seeing the most Indiana University football games with having never seen a college basketball games.  He is probably right.  I have seen more than 70 FBS teams play in person all over the country and have seen well over a hundred IU football games in Bloomington.

The house that Peyton built.  I have said it before.  Peyton Manning has meant more to Indiana football than ANY other individual.  No contest.  Greatness will do that.  Though I have never seen a Colts game in this new barn, I saw many at the Hoosier (RCA) Dome.  I have seen a few college games here.

Banker’s Life Fieldhouse where the Indiana Pacers play.  I tell folks I have heard two people sing here.  Paul McCartney and me.  Paul sang 36 songs.  I sang the National Anthem.

My attempt at artsy photography.

The I-5.  No race better.

I attended a meeting in Indy while in town.  It was a great room and a positive experience.  Both are rare in education conferences.  It was all about making progress and not making hot air.  Again, this was refreshing.

A meeting with a real cup of coffee.  Can’t beat that at Kroger.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

Once again our screened back porch takes on the position of aviary for another group of hatched Wrens.

They are something.  They get their flying chops is short time and it is always fun to see them flitter across the width of the porch and catch a piece of screen before they hit the deck.  Sometimes they hit the deck.  But they are resilient and tough little critters for sure.

They will sit for a while and wait for their next move.

Looking out to the bigger space that waits for them when they are ready.

These photos were taken yesterday and there has been no sign of them on the porch or on the nest at the edge of the southeast awning.

I feel like Opie watching Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod take off.  It was fun while it lasted and not a bit of bird poop on the chairs.  They are polite too.  Until next Spring, I suppose.  They’ll be back.

Beyond the hay and the trees in the background there are probably folks canoeing on the Blue River as I type these words.

I walked three miles yesterday on my path and only saw two vehicles go by.

It was very nice.  Mid-80s.  A little breeze.

I consider this my reward for surviving a five mile walk on New Hampshire’s Highway 101.  That was an adventure in crossing a bridge, dodging cars, walking on my tippy toes at times, and a great deal of my own resilience and the power of prayer.  Glad I lived to tell the story.

Hope all have a good weekend.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

It is I-5 day.

That is how I affectionately refer to the Indianapolis 500.  The I-5.

Today will mark a triumph in 2021.  I have heard there will be 135,000 folks in attendance at the famed brickyard.

I have been fortunate enough to visit Indianapolis Motor Speedway a few times.  The first time was ten years ago when my dear wife, Carrie, and I went to watch qualifications for that year’s race.  The roar those cars make is unreal.  I can’t imagine what the start of that race sounds like in turn one.  I can try.  But I don’t think it is possible to know until you have been there.

Ray Harroun’s car, the first Indy 500 winner.

The Borg-Warner Trophy.

As you can imagine, the museum inside the track is a special place to visit if you have any interest in this race and this place.

So many memories.  Your old Uncle Dan can remember having to listen to the race on the radio and then watching a tape delay broadcast on ABC that same night.  Was it our proximity to the track? Perhaps it was.  I really don’t care.

These were good days.

My dear friend Adam Disque was teaching at Medora School when I was the counselor and teacher there.  He invited me to join his class on Education Day trips to Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  For me the Winner’s Circle was never more important than this picture:

Talk about a crew!  Wow.  We had a blast.

How this photo turned out this way I will never know.  But I have gotten a few miles out of it.  Maybe not 500.  This is on the infield side of the Pagoda.  If you follow that yard of bricks through that door and out to the other side, you will find the track’s front stretch.  If you win the race, you get to kiss the bricks.

Yes, this really is a big deal. Believe it or not.

Learning about the cars and all aspects of the track was a great time for these kids and these adults.

I am so thankful Adam asked me to join this group.

Who will win the race today?  Look out for Scott Dixon.

In truth I think those in attendance and those watching the race LIVE from home will be the winners.  The race gets to run on time this year.  But, there is more memorial than ever to this Memorial Day weekend.  Our national loss has been great.  Hug someone you love.  Don’t miss the last dance.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

The great pandemic has not been kind to me.  Nor has it been kind to anyone.

To personalize this, I can report that the pandemic has increased my waistline and I am ready to retaliate.

Working in a school, wondering about the uncertainty of that and being compelled, due to contact tracing to be tested for the Corona Virus twice, I have been a nervous wreck.  I have, in the process, surrendered to the fork and spoon.

Too much pizza.  Too much fried fish.  Too much cereal at night.  Too many burgers.  Too much of….fill in the blank.

I have found solace in good vittles.  In turn, the vittles have not been as good to me as I have been to them.

And so it begins.  This old boy is fully vaccinated and still scared.  As I have reported here before, my lungs are not my friend. I was born that way.  I have been beyond nervous through this pandemic.  I don’t want to lose my breath.  I have felt fear all my life in my pursuit to breathe clearly.  On a few occasions, I have been in doubt.  On a few occasions, trips to Denver, Colorado, I have never felt so revived as clean air was felt in my lungs in places that I did not know existed. I never felt better.

And so it begins.  It is my time to turn my nose up on the pandemic.  It is my time to get back to the mode of self-preservation.

Many of my friends know that in 2012 I went through a transformation.  I lost a great deal of weight and kept it off for the longest time.  No, I am not up to the weight I was then when I knew it was time to change things.  But, I am closer to that point than I was on the better side of it.

So…it is time.

More exercise.  Less fried foods.  Less cereal at night.  And the list goes on.

Can I do it?  Sure I can.  It is about priorities.  This ain’t brain surgery.

It is about getting on the exercise bike in the morning.  Leaving the toast behind afterwards.  Eating more protein.  Drinking plenty of water.  Being disciplined about eating regularly.  Eating and drinking the right things.  Walking more.  Lifting some weights.  Doing a work out that Michael Powell gave me to follow before I went out to the Rose Bowl to kick my field goals (I was 2 for 2 in Pasadena) and making more progress.

On these pages I have spoken the rights.  When my Granny was dying, I told you about it.  When I was having a good time, I told you about it.  I am ready to tell you about this endeavor too.  It is time.  I got a bunch of clothes in my closet yelling out my name.  I have an eye on one particular long sleeve shirt that looks like it came straight from Kings Row.

I am just speaking the rights.

Chicago.

Danny Johnson

Thirty years ago I was in Hawaii with my Granny.  We had such a good time.    We stayed at the Sheraton Waikiki and had a balcony looking at the ocean and Diamond Head to the left.  It was amazing.  I rented a car and drove around the island on my own.  Granny would not go with me.

The things that stand out the most about this trip was a visit to the USS Arizona Memorial and Pearl Harbor, a sun tan than lasted two years, seeing the Don Ho Show, and seeing Bruno Mars impersonate Elvis in the lounge at our hotel.  Thank you, Granny.  It was a blast.

May.

I graduated from high school in May.  That was a long time ago.  My grandparents came up from Shreveport to witness it just to make sure it was true.  It was.

Tom and Gleda Brown were there.  My second parents.  How I miss them.

The last high school graduation I enjoyed was that of my sister, Lynn, who graduated from North Harrison High School two years before I did.  We had a great celebration then.

As a member of leadership for my graduating class, I was called to a meeting to decide the placement or replacement of the chair of a classmate who died in a car crash three days before graduation.  The older I get, the worse this gets for me.  I have made this speech so many times.  When the calendar turns to May I automatically get nervous.

We graduated on a Sunday and buried a classmate on the next day.  My mom, who hosted a lunch after the funeral, said it was the only time there were 8 pairs of black shoes sitting in her living room.  How this can stay so close to the heart this many years on I will never know.  But I am always nervous for the graduating class in my building.  I don’t want them to go through what I went through.  I don’t want them to know this dread and fear.

I finished college #1 in May.  My Bachelor’s degree that led to many years of teaching English.  How I enjoyed that.  I taught English from 1995 to 2015.  Many years of those year I taught while I was also the school counselor.

I finished college #2 in May.  A Master’s degree that led to my becoming a school counselor at the behest of Jim Stewart.  Jim was a principal at Medora I would have run through a brick wall for.  Had he not asked me to come back to Medora, I would not have him to thank for many good times.  Many of those were in his presence.  I miss that man.  He was the best school guy I ever knew.  Well, maybe Bob Mahan is 1B.  Got him to thank for a great deal also.

And so it begins.  The end of a school year like we have never known before.  Masks on, kids on virtual, watching other states not even remotely close to classes, avoiding crowds, not being in the middle of it.  It has been awful for this ole boy.  In a new building as Covid began.  Not being able to be myself.  Masks all the time. Wow.

I just hope and pray all the kids stay safe.  We need them.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

Wow.  I had no plans of writing a post this evening.

I felt fortunate to survive my drive home from Paoli today.  It rained cats, dogs, the kitchen sink, most of Patoka Lake seemed to be displaced over the top of my car on the way home.  Add a little lightning and a great ddeal of wind and you have to tell Aunt Barbara in Mississippi you have to hang the phone up and hope to make it home and hope to somehow call her later.

From Paoli to the English golf course the temperature dropped 18 degrees.   That would be about 17 miles to the south.

I lived to tell the story and actually called Aunt Barbara back to let her know I survived.  I was never in doubt, though peril found a way into my consciousness.

So I went for a walk this evening.  By the time this posts it will probably say April 8 even though it is not quite there yet.  I think I am headquartered in the old country.  Honestly, I don’t care.  I just write.

During my walk I was motivated to write and share a few pictures.

You know Thunder Over Louisville Air Show Practice is going on when you see three planes from the southeast, two from Charlotte and one from Atlanta, flying overhead south to north 40 miles from Standiford Field in Louisville where they were to land.  I pay attention to planes and often look at a Flight Tracker app on my phone.  That is how I figured out where they were from and where they were going in such an odd direction.

First snail spotting of the year.

The colors are coming together on the old walking trail.

I was pleased with the light and could not turn this shot down.

If you look close to this picture you may be able to find a rainbow.  I saw two of them on my hour long walk.

This one you can probably make out a little better.

I had to take one more from a little farther up the hill.

I enjoy how the trees provide a tunnel effect here.

I’ll save the best for last.  Jarrett and I went fishing yesterday in Blue River.  We caught google eye and small mouth.  It was a wonderful time I usually only dream about. He won’t be home long.  But we have had a good time.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson