On January 23rd I made it known on these pages that I was taking a hiatus from speaktherights.com; I indicated I was working on a chunky piece of writing I needed to complete.

In the unplanned interim, I made posts about the Mississippi State University Library unearthing a John Grisham commencement speech I shared with my students; the Easter season; Henry David Thoreau; Mississippi memories in honor of my Aunt Thula who passed recently; and positive words about the difficult month of May.

In the space since January 23, I finished my ambitious writing project and I am most proud of it.  It clocks in at more than 192,000 words.  Whether it sees the light of day depends on the right publisher.  We shall see.  Any writing perspective I can share with my students is a victory.

I finished the work sitting on a porch at a place my dear wife, Carrie, and I have frequented in The Berkshires. There was no shiver up the spine when I placed the final punctuation mark.  In fact, similarly to a song writing itself, which some of mine certainly have, this writing was finished before I knew it.  That was a pleasant feeling, as there was no pressure as how to wrap it up.  It was over before I knew it was.  I have said it a thousand times.  If you want to make God laugh, tell Him what your plans are.  There’s a lesson.

If you are staying in a hotel thirty-three miles from Walden Pond, you go to Walden Pond.  This was my fourth sojourn to Walden Pond.  It was cloudy and very cool.  I could have used long britches.

There is a nice polite trail around the pond that is narrow and respectful.

The two views above are across from each other.  Cool temps and mid-week yielded a sparse crowd.  I walked hundreds of yards at a time without seeing another human soul.

This photo is one of my favorites.

A replica of Thoreau’s house he built there.

My office on Lake Erie for three days of writing in Willowick, OH.

We met a few new friends there.

Carrie and I have grabbed a sandwich at a  Brattleboro, Vermont deli and rode up a hill to a baseball diamond to have lunch many times on the way to see our friends in New Hampshire.  What a great place to play baseball and to picnic.

This was taken in Erie, PA.

In 2013, when Carrie was studying nonstop while I was enjoying our stay at Williamsburg, VA, on a whim I got us tickets to see the music group Train perform at Virginia Beach.  Carrie was a fan.  I became one that night.  A week ago today we saw them at SPAC.  The Saratoga Performing Arts Center in Saratoga Springs, New York.  Train follows us for some reason.  We have seen them at SPAC three times.  2015, 2017, and 2022.  Since we have been going to see them, they have not made a stop in Louisville.

Others on the bill last week were Blues Traveller and Jewel; they were both quite good.  We sat in bag chairs and took the atmosphere in.  The SPAC pavilion is in the background.  When Train came on we sat our chairs next to a tree and took our seats.  Yes, the chairs were waiting for us after the show.

This was the largest crowd Carrie and I had seen since July 2019 in Nashville when we saw Train and The Goo Goo Dolls at the Ascend Amphitheater downtown.  Train brought the goods last week.

A few nights ago I had the privilege of taking my Dad to see Justin Hayward sing in Knoxville, Tennessee at the Bijou Theatre.

We had a great time.

Remember this name, if you have not heard it yet: MIKE DAWES.

Look Mike Dawes up on youtube. Justin did.  And he found a winner.  How Justin has held on to this kid for nine years is amazing.  He adds so much to the arrangements that are becoming classics themselves, given the current line-up of talent Justin has with him.  Julie Ragins, singing and playing keyboard, and Mike have been with Hayward since he started his solo shows in 2013.  Add flautist-singer Karmen Gould, who studied at Indiana University, and that little stage sounds a great deal larger.

Mike leads off the show with thirty of the fastest minutes in music.  There is not time to keep up with everything he is doing with that guitar. Makes me want to sell my guitars.  It is amazing.  Do take time and look this guy up.  You’ll thank me later.

In the 1988 Moody Blues song Vintage Wine, Hayward wrote a line:

And the lights go up on the empty stage…

They sure did.

Dad and I were sitting on the front row.  And the sound was still pristine.  That is not a guarantee.

Justin sang songs spanning the 60s to 2013, his latest solo effort.  We heard Tuesday Afternoon, The Voice, Question, Nights in White Satin, Your Wildest Dreams, The Actor, Driftwood, I Know You’re Out There Somewhere, Never Comes the Day, Forever Autumn, and more.

When I was heading to a concert in April of 1992 and my buddy Tim Mullins asked the question, “How long can they keep going?” as I was heading to see The Moodies for the sixth time since I first saw them at age 18 in 1986, I thought I knew something when I told him if I get three more shows in I will be good with that.  Well, thirty years and from Red Rocks to The Newberry (SC) Opera House, I have seen more than nine shows.

Though Justin has been kind giving me a nice promo to thank Robert Becker when he hung up his Radio DJ mic, he has not granted me an interview here and I have requested via the proper channels on a couple occasions.  My interview would be short.  Through all of the concerts, record collection, posters, videos. photos both tangible and in my mind, I just have one question.

American rock and rollers turn to The Beatles as the influence.  How many times have you heard it or read it?  The Ed Sullivan Show changed everything.

But for the British boys and girls, the name you hear over and over is Buddy Holly.  The guy who showed them they can write their own songs and make it happen their way.

My question?

What if Buddy Holly had lived?  What then?  No mantle to pick up?  Or not?

We’ll never know.  I know in my own musical life, when Tim Krekel died in 2009, recording a new album fell more on me.  Everything sounded different.  We carried on.  Ten years later on album number three, with the help of Jefferson Carpenter and a host of great players, I finally heard a Danny Johnson album for the first time; I enjoyed it and I missed Tim the whole time.

I have my suspicions of what Jus’ answer would be.  Some mysteries were made to be exactly that I suppose.

Though we only had a few minutes, it was good to catch up with Julie Ragins.  The last time Carrie and I had real speaks with her was before the Nashville show in 2019.

While you are checking out music, don’t forget to look for Pear Duo, Julie and her husband Curtis Brengle can lay down some sweet tunes.  7 Fairway Drive, oh my.  Thank me later.

Speaking more than I had planned; it has been a while.

Danny Johnson

May 2022.  Wow what a month it has been.  I just finished my first year of classroom teaching since the 2001-2002 school year.  Yes, that would be twenty years.  Thanks to all the students and their parents for being patient with this old educator.  Yes, I did get emails from self-proclaimed “helicopter moms”.  I would have never called them that.  I am delighted they communicated with me and I hope I made them feel comfortable doing so.  It was a good time.

North Harrison has some wonderful students.  We are blessed, also, for having a school staff we can all be proud of.  I mean this.  There is not a single person in the high school I see and want to turn around and walk in the other direction.  I AM SERIOUS!  Believe me.  This is a man who has worked for six different schools and was called back to work at two of them.  The first time Medora called me back I stayed 13 years.  Last summer North called me back and I hope and pray this will be my last stop.

The last week of school I asked students to complete the assignment above.  This was the best FINAL EXAM I ever gave.  They were all on their honor.  I did not ask to see them.  But, three of them came my way.  I did read them.  And I was honored to do so.  They were addressed to me.

The Kentucky Derby has a soft spot with me.  My dear wife, Carrie, and I watched the 2014 Derby at the home of Mike and Bonnie Hunsucker in Medora, Indiana.  Mike was losing a battle with cancer.  This was the last time we laughed heartily together.  The Derby means more now.  I don’t care about the horses much.  I loved Mike.  I love Bonnie.

I added this photo on the Quote of the Day, a practice I make so each day.  My students know that Millard Dunn is my English teaching mentor.  An English professor, Millard and Henry David Thoreau are why I am where I am today (in additon to scores of others).  The photo of Millard was taken at Jeff Carpenter’s studio as we were rueing over song lyrics in November 2016.  This was a day dreams are made of.  Rod Wurtele (The Wulfe Brothers) was there too.

I took this picture of sweet Kimber when son Cody was visiting from Nashville recently.  I have a soft spot for this puppy.

Speaking of puppies…

My North Harrison colleague, Josh Swarens, was walking this precious hound down the hallway recently and I just had to take a photo.

This was my final goodbye photo after the North Harrison Drama Club presented the last performance of THE GREAT GATSBY.  These kids did a GREAT job.

Old Sport, indeed!  What a GREAT bunch of young people.

This month we lost our Aunt Thula.  She was a wonderful woman.  Her home was like a sweet sanctuary for me.  I feel blessed that I was able to share this place with my wife, Carrie, and our boys, Jarrett and Cody.  That porch behind us is a cathedral in my heart.

I get emails from all over asking me to come to their games.  Places I have ordered tickets, college football,  ask me to come back.  I have been to The Rose Bowl twice to see UCLA host USC and it is still the most magical college football setting I have ever been blessed to be a part of.  So says the man who got to kick a couple field goals in an empty Rose Bowl.   I DID NOT MISS.

So, why am I so disgusted when I open my Indiana University ticket account and see a photo supposedly promoting IU Football and the photo looks like one taken when the Hooisers are getting their rears handed to them by Ohio State?  Pitiful!  In spite of what lives in the promotions department in Bloomington, I still root for the Hoosiers.  But, they still need to get their heads out of their rearends.

I told you!  They looked daunted to me.

Though it was painful, I did break the seal on this 3LP set.  It was better than I imagined.  I am glad I broke the seal.  I was dumbfounded how the this sounded BETTER than the CDs that came out before the vinyl did.  Excellent.

Finally, I stood against the fence at North Harrison High School’s baseball field and realized, at 380 feet away there was a reason why I have seen a ball fly out there.  Danny Schmidt is no longer the coach and I propose we move this fence in.  He may have not wanted to lose a game by a homer, but we are also removing a chance by winning one too.

The Merry Month of May Indeed!

Speaking the Rights…

Danny Johnson

Mississippi Revisited

This was originally posted in 2017.  I need to add an addendum here.  Look, I have been a blessed man.  I know that.  Today, I wish I could have been in Mississippi to say goodbye to my Aunt Authula Crout.  I’m not sad.  She was 95.  She lived a life most of us would dream of living.  Simple.  True.  Loving.  Tough.  Honest.  Classy.  Funny.  My Aunt Authula was all of those things and more than I will know.  Aunt Thula’s funeral was held today. I wish I could have been there to hug the necks of Janet, Bobbi Sue, Joyce, and Doyle (Fred Biletnikoff)…an inside joke.  I love them all so.  I have been in Indiana my entire life.  My sojourns to Mississippi are too sweet to mention.

This was the last time I saw Aunt Thula in December of 2019.  I hope I make it back to that most important front porch of my life.  I want to sit there and write for a while.

From 2017…

A few days ago my dear wife, Carrie, my sister, Lynn, and my niece, Katie, visited family members in Mississippi. It was the first time we had been there since 2013 and that is shameful. As much running around as Carrie and I do, we need not wait four more years to get back. I say it again, it is shameful.

We had a great time. It was a wonderful visit. It always works out that way even when Carrie and I are walking at 8 in the morning to get a little exercise and the bright sun there is already strong enough to take the hide off of you. How do they practice football in this, I asked. I know…they are used to it. I am not. But that is not to say that I do not like it. The air there is much more kind to my pipes that the crud we are relagated to breathe in and out in Southern Indiana. Like the Berkshires, I’ll take the Mississippi air to take in and out any day, sun or no sun.

We saw Uncle Stanley and Aunt Reat. They are in a nursing home in Morton, Mississippi. Neither one of them can get around too well. Uncle Stanley can make out what you have to say to him if you can keep your voice long enough to do it. You have to speak up a great deal. Though he can’t hear and can’t see very well, he still has his wit about him. He was the only one on the visit to bring up the political spectrum in this country. Pleasantly, we agreed on the dim horizon from “left” to “right”.

Aunt Reat is an inspiration. She told us she never thought she would ever be in the spot she is in…in a nursing home. She was then quick to bring out the fact that many others there have it much worse than she does and that she is thankful and still has a great deal to live for. She is tough. It was hard to say goodbye to them. She’ll be 90 her next birthday.

We also had a visit with Aunt Barbara. This is another self-procliamed “tough old sister”. That is what she said in 1989 when it started to rain at an Ole Miss-Arkansas football game she and I were attending. I asked if she wanted to find cover. She set me straight.

Aunt Barbara’s husband, my Uncle Durwood Hines, was the first of the 17 brothers and sisters born to W.E. and Levi Jane Hines to leave us. He died of a brain tumor in April of 1988…April 18th to be exact. I know where I was when I got the call from my mother that day.
We still talk football, Aunt Barbara and I do. She still works fulltime. She will be 82 in less than a month. We also enjoy taking in a meal together. We ate catfish on Tuesday night at a place called The Cock of the Walk along the Ross Barnett Resevoir not far from Jackson. It was a feast. The best fresh water fish in the world.

Our last stop was at Uncle Carlton and Aunt Wanda’s house. Carlton Hines is the youngest of the 17 Hines children. He is 70 these days. He does not look it. I have all his white hair. He and I have a shared interest in music and football and we held forth on both subjects with earnest vigor sitting on his back deck while the ladies shared stories inside. It was an old-fashioned meeting of sorts. Carrie did come out to join us eventually. Our time there went by so quickly it is sad.

If there is one constant in geography and personage, it is a country road, maybe Old Hillsboro Rd, I really am not quite completely certain and I don’t have to be because I know the way. It is the same road that my parents drove on to the same house we visited in the 1970s,80s, 90s, 2000s, 10s. Five decades rolling up to the same house.

My Aunt Authula moved into this house in 1952. He her husband, Everett Crout, planted Sycamores in 1953. They are prominent on the property today along with an array of other tall and wide trees including Oak, Magnolia, Pine, and others I don’t know quite as well. My leaf collection was puny in the 9th grade Biology.

I do know I shot some ball on this hoop as a child.

Only in Mississippi could I get artsy with a basketball goal.

The back of the house.

Aunt Authula will be 91 this month. Like the house she still lives in, though Uncle Evertt passed many years ago, the place is still like it was in so many ways when I was young. There is a peaceful sensibility about the front porch where my Grandaddy Hines dipped snuff and took note of the weather. It is the Ryman Auditorium of front porches to me. I considered it a hallowed spot.

So does Carl. Carl, you are in the midst of greatness. I hope you appreciate it.
And so it goes. Mississippi is as sweet as ever. A much better place than given credit for or understood. But I suppose you have to know a thing or two to appreciate it, like anything else. Thank God I know what I know. Hope I can hang on to it, even if only in my mind.
Speaking the Mississippi rights…
Danny Johnson

There is nothing wrong with aiming high and dreaming of achievement.  There is an old adage about belief and achievement. Hopefully my students have caught on to a little of this.   My hope is to leave students with knowledge and creativity for utilizing the English language.  Communication is the key.  Relating opens the door.

I am blessed beyond measure to be able to go on wonderful nature walks with no need to do anything with my automobile besides waving goodbye to it in the driveway as I walk on.

Yesterday I went on a 5 mile hike and after play practice today I walked a couple miles.  There is a hill across the road behind my dear wife, Carrie’s, cousin’s house.  I made it up to the top of that hill for the first time yesterday.  Know that I have lived across the road from this hill for more than twenty years.  I have hiked in every other direction many times over and over.  I had heard about the field at the top of the hill.  I must say I have never seen anything like it.  The path up the hill is steep and winding.  Not quite the long and winding road.  A quarter of a mile up and a much increased heart rate later, one can find something special.

Finally, wishing I had a bottle of water later.  It was all worth it and very much worth the wait.  Yes, I had heard it was a lovely spot.  And I went back again today.

Through the woods, up the hill, and then…

Pictures don’t give this space its due.  This is a thimble of the expansive piece of flat land on top of this hill.  The last time I felt so moved by the landscape in front of me was a walk around Walden Pond.  Henry David Thoreau knew what he was doing.

Down from the hill across the road, I took to the lane behind the house and took a few great pictures.  I won’t lie.  The flat land was a friend.

I always say that when the light is right you have a good chance with any camera.

Just about where I turned around and headed for home.

The play is next weekend!  How about these posters designed by Clay Brown of Celery Signs!  Very nice.

This is only post #7 of 2022.  Enjoyed it.

Love one another.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

Hello, Group.

It is good to be back.

The Easter Holiday is special to me on so many levels.

Memories of my childhood and the great Easter Sundays I spent at the Brownstown Baptist Church.  I can still hear that choir sing, “UP FROM THE GRAVE HE AROSE!”  That I can still hear it all so clearly is a musician’s blessing.  I know how fortunate I am.

This is the church I was married in back in 1996 to my dear wife, Carrie.  John Abbott married us.  For years, including 2022, John and I went back and forth each February 10th.  I never ceased to thank him.  John passed away recently.  But I know that was just a new beginninig.  Good Easter to you, John.

Easter is new life.  Walking around the last few days and a couple weeks ago on the North Carolina coast, I thought I would share a few photos.

I never tire of looking forward to see the sun come up in the morning.  Whether it is over the railroad tracks below the Tunnel Hill bridge or the North Carolina coast.

For me, the water offers a new perspective that is bright and full of possibility.

A couple Saturdays ago I was at Indiana University Southeast doing a little writing.  I was the only one in the room and it was a peaceful experience.  What I learned in some of those classrooms I now hope I can pass along to my students.

It was nice to walk around the old place again.

Speaking of walking.  I enjoy walking along St. Louis Road toward Milltown.  I have mentioned this many times on these pages.  The photo above was taken a month or so ago.  There is no way I can put together all the photos I would like to share.  This is the first post I have made since early March, I think.  And only the second one in two months or so.

Yesterday I took a long walk.

What a lovely day it was yesterday.

After a while on the paved road, I decided to take the walk behind the house and into the woods and say hello to a busy and raised Blue River.

It won’t be long.  These woods will be filled with leaves and more critters and I don’t know what all.  It is very sweet to pay a visit when the woods are teeming with new life.  Thanks be to God!

My how things change in thirty-seven years.  Last night was the return of the United States Football League.  It was a spring football league that lasted from 1983 to 1985. Last night in the Louisville televison market, you could tune in to watch this game on either WAVE 3 or WDRB 41.  When the USFL was televised all those years ago, the Louisville ABC affiliate did not carry the games.  They differed.  Be glad you have no idea how difficult it was to make out those football games watching them from a grainy over the air signal from Channel 7 in Evansville.  But that is what my Dad and I did.  Last night, it was all there in HD for the Louisville market to enjoy.  New life.

Good Easter to you!

Speaking the rights for the first time in a while…

Danny Johnson

Nearly twenty years ago I printed off a speech that was made by John Grisham, the noted author of what we call “legal thillers”.

This particular speech was ten years old at the time.  It was made at the commencement of the 1992 graduating class of Mississippi State University.

A native of Southaven, Mississippi, not far from Memphis, John Grisham was a 1977 graduate of Mississippi State.  He got his undergrad in accounting before he trotted from Starkville northwest to Oxford and on to law school at Ole Miss.  In 1984, as a young trial lawyer, John Grisham took out a legal pad and began writing a story called A Time to Kill.  That story was published and by the time he made his commencement speech in Starkville for that 1992 graduating class, he had three books to his credit.  Today the number of books John Grisham has produced is over 40.  His books have sold more than 300 million copies and have been translated into more than 40 languages worldwide.

Enough of the John Grisham public service announcement.

So on a Wednesday, it was May 8, 2002, I printed that particular1992 Mississippi State commencement speech that John Grisham delivered.  Why I printed that speech is a mystery to me.  At the time I was not teaching seniors and I was a year away from seeing a high school graduating class to the finish line as a school counselor which is something I did for a long time.

For twenty years I have always known where I could put my hands on this speech.  Oh it has changed from cabinet to cabinet and from drawer to drawer, but I have always known where I could find it.  Why?  I have no idea.  But, believe it or not, it came in handy recently as I was teaching English in Room 104 at North Harrison High School in Ramsey, Indiana.  Things just work out that way sometimes.  When they do, you are thankful and you move on.

Above is the paper I printed off in 2002.  I suppose I can relate to the quote to the left of his picture.

“If you’re sitting out there now with a nice, neat little outline for the next ten years, you’d better be careful.  Life may have other plans.”

I often give a refrain that goes like this, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”

So as I was lesson planning, I looked for this speech and was delighted to put my hands on it in quick fashion.  Twenty years on, I knew where it was sitting.

Unaccountable with just this paper copy, I knew I needed more.  I told myself that if I was going to share this with my students, my reading of this speech (which I dearly love and appreciate) just wouldn’t do for me or my students.  Action was needed.  I wanted to find a video of this speech.  Even though google and youtube could not locate it, I knew it had to be out there somewhere.

A very simple “chat with someone” on the Mississippi State University Library page turned into a mission.  And to my academic, spiritual, and simple delight, I was shocked that folks in Starkville, Mississippi wanted to make it their mission too.  A call out to share with my students turned into an all out media history search at State.  Four days and an exchange of more than ten emails later, the video of this speech was found and yesterday I had the chance to share it with some of my students.

In earnest, I did not believe this would be pulled out of Mississippi State’s maroon hat.  Therefore, I had already showed my students John Grisham’s 2010 UNC-Chapel Hill commencement address.  Guess what?  With the additonal ability to view Grisham’s 1992 address to the State grads, we were able to….wait for it…compare and contrast!!!!  Get those Venn Diagrams flowing!

Yesterday we watched the 1992 Mississippi State commencement speech by John Grisham in Room 104 at North Harrison High School in Ramsey, Indiana. Under the QUOTE OF THE DAY, I added the names of Julie Shedd, Jennifer McGillan, Emily Harrison, Paul Huddleston, and Li Zhang.  These kind folks in Starkville, Mississippi went to work for North Harrison students and I am so grateful.

As an additional point of reference, I can easily lay my hands on a book by S.E. Hinton called The Outsiders.  There is a post it note that puts me right to one particular page whenever I need to read it.  The words I read, when life tells me to do so, are:

“There’s still lots of good in the world.”

Some kind folks at the Mississippi State Library reminded me of just that this past week.  I am so thankful.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

I had other aspirations for this post.  Like that Van Zant song lyric, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”

So I have to go down other roads today.  Not the map that was in my mind will I follow.  I have to follow my heart this time.

“Not exactly the way I wanted to say goodbye, Radar.” That is what came to mind when I sat down to write these words.  Colonel Potter then said to Radar, “God speed, son.”  They hugged and the rest is sweet TV history.

We can all hope for a sweet history, even though it does not work out that way.  There are scrapes and burns and duct tape around the frame of every life.  How we get through some of what we get through, I will never know.  God’s hand is there to hold.  We can get into an argument of why bad things happen til the cows come home, go to pasture, and come back again.  Now is not the time.

I wanted to sit down and get wistful and take a trip down memory lane about some of the people and places I have written about on these pages since I began writing speaktherights.com.  This is post number 656.  I have written more than a half a million words here since I started in the summer of 2014.  This has been fun.

It is time to take a break.  There are a few of you out there.  I know you read these pages regularly.  I thank you for that.

For some time I have been wanting to work on a more ambitious piece of writing that I need to get out of my system.  No, it is not a bad thing I am dealing with.  It just feels that way sometimes when I feel bad for not putting something on here when I am wanting to get the other finished.  In the process, I make less progress here and there.

Time.  There just isn’t enough of it.  So, when I finish the writing project, I will be able to come back here and get on with this once again.  I’ll be back in the Spring.

Music from February 1977

1   NEW KID IN TOWN –•– Eagles
2   LOVE THEME FROM “A STAR IS BORN” (Evergreen) –•– Barbra Streisand
3   BLINDED BY THE LIGHT –•– Manfred Mann’s Earth Band
4   FLY LIKE AN EAGLE –•– The Steve Miller Band 
5  I LIKE DREAMIN’ –•– Kenny Nolan
6  ENJOY YOURSELF –•– The Jacksons
7  TORN BETWEEN TWO LOVERS –•– Mary MacGregor
8  NIGHT MOVES –•– Bob Seger
9  DANCING QUEEN –•– Abba
10  WEEKEND IN NEW ENGLAND –•– Barry Manilow

This was the American Top 40 top ten songs of the week ending February 26, 1977.  That would also be my Mother’s birthday!  It was a good time to be listening to the radio.  In 1977 my station of choice, the one I was probably listening to in between running upstairs to see how many points Dave Cowens or John Havlicek or Jo Jo White had for the Boston Celtics on the NBA on CBS Sunday afternoon telecast, was 1010 WCSI in Columbus, Indiana.

When Robert Becker sold 96.3 WJAA in Seymour in 2020, my daily radio listening life came to an end.  Oh there are a few shows I make a point to listen to.  Not many.  Not everyday.  Not like it was.  Thankful I had what I did for as long as I did.  I tuned in to listen to Becker every morning for nearly thirty years.

Nowadays I spend more time listening to Amazon Unlimited Music and Classic American Top 40 on the IHeart Radio App.

Well, here we go again (I can hear Ronald Reagan’s voice).

This was my classroom last week.  It was miserable.  The only thing I can think of that could be more miserable is having a classroom full of kids without masks on after a week that looked like the one is this picture.

When word came down from on high that will we be returning to the classroom tomorrow, I was delighted.  I was not impressed when that word included masks in the classroom were optional.  Oh, I know, it said Parental Choice in leading CAPITAL letters.  Having been away from the class for a week, I wish the message had said for the safety of our students and our staff WE ALL NEED TO WEAR A MASK WHILE OUR COUNTY IS IN THE RED.  That message would have been much more respectful of all involved in the classroom setting.

We asked parents to wear a mask when they were picking up food outdoors during lunch distribution last week.  But go ahead and send your kid to a classroom full of 30 or more students (mask or no mask).  Some of those classrooms have no outside windows.  I know this all too well.

I suppose it would not sting like it does, had more professionals been recognized as stakeholders in protecting all stakeholders.  I don’t blame all of this on the administration.  I blame it on the teachers too.  As an educator I was not asked what I thought was important for the next steps by either the administration or the classroom teachers association.  Seems like my membership (and my remuneration) in the association is respected more than I am.

You better know when it comes time to formulate a school improvement plan, the surveys and the questionaires will be flying around like leaves in a November windstorm.

In full disclosure, I am not one who has worn a mask in my classroom all year long.  I am wearing one now for sure cos I want to help us get through this level red mess.  This very school year I went from the football sideline to the stage as the drama club sponsor.  This ole boy ain’t been hiding.

I feel like when we are not wearing masks and being as responsible as we can be we are throwing healthcare workers under the bus in the process.

Remember when we used to watch National TV news, be it John Chancellor or Walter Cronkite, and we saw a story that looked awful about folks suffering somewhere?  What did we tell ourselves?  We said, “I sure am glad that ain’t happening here!”

It is happening here.  We don’t have to look at it for 30 seconds at a time before Walter says, “That’s the way it is.” or before John Chancellor says, “That’s Nightly News for this evening.”  This is 2022 and we have to look at this health disaster 24/7.  Why do we have to make decisions that remind us of 1978?

I recently told a friend as long as there is sand, you will always be able to find some Hoosier heads.  Sorry kids.  Geography can be studied and it can hurt at the same time.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

It has been too long away from these pages, hasn’t it?

Maybe.

Or, as my Granny used to say, “Might…Might Not!”

It was a miracle. I called the College Footbal Game correctly.  Georgia won over Alabama and at the beginning of bowl season I made that call.  It all sure went quickly.

At some point I will add up my win-loss picks for the entire bowl season.  I doubt I report that.  It will be uglier than a bowling shoe.  If Lewis Grizzard was somewhere watching last Monday, I hope he enjoyed it.

Don’t be greedy, BAMA.

The Bengals won one.

No, the Bengals helmets don’t look like that anymore.  They did when I saw them in person for the first time.  They were playing the Packers in 1975 in what we used to call an “exhibition” game.  Now it is called the preseason.

The last time I saw the Bengals in person they defeated my Eli-led New York Giants in 2012.

It will be the last time I attend a Bengals game, as the flyover that day left me adversely phased to a point no return.  I will never step foot into Paul Brown Stadium again.

But good for the 2021 Bengals.  The beat the Las Vegas Raiders on Saturday to earn their first playoff victory since the 1990 season on January 6, 1991.  Who beat them the next week in 1991?  That would be the Los Angeles Raiders.

Two Hall of Fame coaches went at it on Decemebr 28, 1975.  This time it was the OAKLAND Raiders (as the Lord intended) defeating the Cincinnati Bengals.

RAIDERS 31         BENGALS 28

John Madden’s Okland team beat Paul Brown’s team.  Talk about some history on those sidelines.

I was watching the game in my grandparents’ den at 1439 Alma Street in Shreveport.  I still remember being sore at my Granny cos she was rooting for the Raiders.  It was George Blanda’s last season in 1975.  His first on was in 1949.  A quarterback turned kicker.  There was only one like Blanda and that was Blanda.  Granny was for Blanda.

That was the last quote of the day my students saw in the room.  I had no idea that on Friday, we would not be together and that the rest of this week, starting tomorrow, will be what we call ELearning.  The kids are at home.  I am at my desk looking at a computer screen hoping they will all show up for our “virtual class time”.  We do the best we can do.  That covid shadow just kept creeping in closer and closer.  We could feel it.  That would be a rather hopeless feeling.

I pulled a large Moodies poster out of mothballs, as I needed a larger coloful backdrop.

Carrie and I  picked this up for my Dad this weekend at a large, majestic store in Jasper.

A 5 lb bag of goobers!

Dad got after them watching his Southern Miss Golden Eagles at Marshall some years ago.

We’ll give Granny the last word.  Though she disappointed me when she rooted against my Bengals forty-seven years ago, I thought of her when I ran across this just yesterday.

She enjoyed watching her Cowboys.  Captain America led the way.  And when the Cowboys were on defense, Granny yelled out a hearty, “Get Him!!!!”

I will be for the Rams over the Cardinals tonight.  If I had it my way, the Rams will play the Bengals in Super Bowl LVI.  I think that is the correct Roman Numeration.  If not, I contend to just speak the rights…

Danny Johnson

Let’s be careful out there.

Those were the final words from Sgt. Phil Esterhaus during morning Roll Call, as was the time and place the television show Hill Street Blues would open each week.

January 15, 1981 at 10 PM EST was the night Hill Street Blues premiered on NBC.  Walter Cronkite was still telling us “That’s the way it is…” just before 7 PM on CBS.  Walter wrapped that up on March 6, 1981.

To this day, when I am asked what my favorite television show of all time was I answer Hill Street Blues.  It was different.  The use of handheld cameras taking a more cinematographic approach made it look different immediately to the eye.  And the cast?  This ensemble made the number of memorable characters on MASH seem paltry.

We won’t get in to all the characters.  But as MASH was winding down, it would end in 1983, Hill Street gave so many of us something to discuss on Friday mornings at school.

MASH was the same, probably to a larger degree.  That was ‘THE SHOW” in the 70s. We all watched.

I get wistful at times thinking about all the great travel my dear wife, Carrie, and I done over the dozen years or so.  We have been fortunate to see a great deal.

A few years ago I tracked down a complete seried set of Hill Street Blues on DVD.  I watched it through.  I started it again a couple days ago.  I watch it as I excercise in the basement.  It is every bit as good as I remember.  The characters.  The lines I still remember.  And there is the Hill Street station.

A photo taken of my TV screen.

Hill Street Station is in Chicago.  Carrie is in front of it in this picture.  Yes, that is snow and ice around her feet.  It  was a chilly day.

This building, at least while we were there, was serving as a police station for the University of Chicago.  It took some looking to find.  But it was worth it.  I could see Captain Furrillo ducking out of the building in the dark of night to get into his car.  And let us not forget that great Mike Post Hill Street Blues Theme Song.

I think this classy piano driven theme song was part of Hill Street Blues’ great appeal.  There was violence on this show like we had not seen on network TV before.  The realism was a priority.  This was not CHIPs where every car that flipped turned over three times.  It was serious stuff.  The juxtaposition between sweet theme and ugly streets came out of the televison on those Thursday nights in buckets.  As a fan of the show, this was our show.  The critics were not kind when it started.  If a critic agrees with you, how much of a critic are they?  Exactly.

I will keep watching and keep rememberg this great show I grew up with from age 12 to 19.  Doing so keeps me young, until I have to climb the stairs after a workout.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

January 2022.  That sounds very very nice right now.

If we ever needed a good turning of the calendar, it is now.  I am delighted to see 2022 here with us.

As I type these words, I am listening to Barry Manilow singing a song from his 1977 Barry Manilow Live album. The song he wrote with Marty Panzer is called Another New Year’s Eve.  I don’t know that it appears on a regular Manilow solo album.  The finale of the album, playing now, is the Bruce Johnston penned iconic tune called I Write The Songs.  If you have paid attention to The Beach Boys you will recognize Bruce as a memebr of that band for a number of years post Bian Wilson touring that always has a smile on his face.  I’d smile too had I wrote that tune.

This album made a great impression on me.  Long before I ever saw a music concert in person, I had already imagined what that meant.  I was an odd ten year old kid.  Barry Manilow songs were tunes I analyzed and put myself in.  When I was ready to make my own music, nothing ever really intimidated me.  I appreciated it all.  I did.  I respected the folks around me to the point of deference.  But I was not intimidated.  Had I been, I would have taken my songs and ran in fear.  Yes, I know I never deserved to be in the room with guys who’d played with or led off for some of music’s notable including The Rolling Stones, Jimmy Buffett, The Charlie Daniels Band, Vince Gill, Billy Swann, Velvet Elvis, Bodeco, The Wulfe Brothers, and so on.  But I found myself there.  And guess what?  I Write the Songs too.  That is what got them and me in the room.  I should just be thankful for what it is.  And I thank Jeff Carpenter, my partner in music, for leading me there.

This was yesterday at my parents’ house.  We watched some good old January 1st football.  This may be my favorite day of the year.  This tradition has held long and steadfast.  I am so thankful.

Of all the pictures I look at before this Covid mess hit, I often look at this one.

All is right in the picture.

Speaking the rights!

Danny JHohnson