Meggings. Wait, What?

Meggings. Leggings for men.

I'm not talking about Lycra bicycle pants. Heck, I wear those but only when I'm actually engaged in riding or going to and from a ride. They're not exactly daily wear. No no no. Think those really hot, tight stretch pants that those of the feminine persuasion occasionally wear to remind us guys that they're women and we're men. But on dudes? Uh, I don't think so.

Come on guys, don't let them make us into a bunch of stocking clad sissies. The whole Metro sexual thing was bad enough but this abomination? Give me a break.

Blue jeans. 511s. Even Corduroys for crying out loud. But please spare us all the sight of hosiery clad guy butt. No one needs to see that.

It's becoming clear that we need a Masculine Revolution. Grease and dirt and gunpowder. Motorcycles and dogs and holding the door for your best gal. Denim and Vibram and Flannel shirts. Chivalry and courtesy and paying for dinner and a movie.

Jeez, I can't believe this even needs to be said. Let's go men. It's not just us but the futures of our sons and grandsons. Don't let them be turned into weaklings.

Six

America Is Not Dead

120 kindergartners. 120 five and six year olds on stage. The event is their end of the school year program. The setting is a high school stage with a screen hung behind with seating for the kids. The stage is hung with bunting consisting of American flags hand drawn by the kids who are dressed in hand made red, white and blue t-shirts.

The program consisted of songs extolling the virtues of America, freedom, patriotism and the sacrifices of the men and women who wear the uniform of our beloved nation. This one especially. (I apologize for the poor quality. I took this with Lu's mini still camera that has a small video function)

On the screen behind the children is displayed pictures of those who have and continue to serve. Sung in darkness to keep the spotlight off of themselves and on those they are honoring. My beloved grandson was among them. The words:

When I lay my head down every night.
And go to sleep in peace.
I can stay there knowing all is well.
While you're standing on your feet.
Keeping watch, protecting shore to shore.
In the Air and Ocean too.
Defending freedom at all cost.
For the Red, White and the Blue.
Thank you! Oh thank you!
Men and women brave and strong.
To those who serve so gallantly.
We sing this grateful song.
To the soldiers who have traveled on.
To countries far and near.
In peace and war you paid the price.
For the cause you hold to dear.
That we may wake each morning bright.
And know that freedom rings.
Because of your great sacrifice.
Your country joins to sing.
Thank you! Oh thank you!
Men and women brave and strong.
To those who serve so gallantly.
We sing this grateful song.
Thank you! Oh thank you!
Men and women brave and strong.
To those who serve so gallantly.
We sing this grateful song.

 There were many such songs and offerings but I chose this one because it meant so much to me. Music for the soul. I cried. Openly and unashamedly. Sarge and Lu both got teary eyed as well. Who could stay dry eyed? Those may be the sweetest words I've ever heard and uttered by such innocent voiced American children. I'm tearing up even as I write these words. Yes, I am a patriot.

The program was written, directed and produced by 4 kindergarten teachers. Approved by the principal and school district. In the America of today.

120 kindergarten kids. Five and six year olds. Take heart America for a country that still produces such as these children and the adults who are charged with their education and upbringing is a country full of hope and courage and pride. So many are predicting dire days ahead. Instead I will remember this program and the kids who sang so proudly. I will remember the pride and joy in my heart as I heard their song of gratitude and tribute.I will remember my grandson, wearing his red, white and blue shirt and singing his heart out. I love him. Indeed, I love them all.

And to the enemies of my country foreign and domestic I have this message. I will defend the lives and freedom of each and every one of those children, indeed every child in America, to my dying breath. I will never abandon them and the promise of freedom, their freedom, to the depredations of the cruel and the power mad. If you think I can't or won't just try me and remember that a man who is moved by the songs of children is a man who will gladly lay down his life to make sure they can keep on singing and "go to sleep in peace".

Keep the faith my friends.

Six

Firsts

There are firsts for all things. Sometimes they're good sometimes not so much but as we trundle along the path of life we will experience many. They tend to get get fewer and farther between as we get older but there are still chances for new experiences. Sometimes the real joy from a first is not personal but rather the opportunity to watch someone else conquering a particularly difficult task and enjoying the thrill of victory. I had just such a moment yesterday and it's thanks to my daughter and The Boy.

He's motivated. He has a cousin who's his same age and has become his best friend. They are in the same kindergarten class and live within a block of each other. The Cousin has mastered the art of the bicycle and The Boy wanted, needed, to do the same. He asked me to take off his pedals because that's how The Cousin did it so obviously that was The Way. So I took off his pedals, right down to the cranks and modified the seat so he could reach the ground with his feet and we had an impromptu pusher bicycle. And he practiced. Oh how he practiced. Until he learned the Art and Secret of balance.

He did about a thousand laps of the driveway, pushing his bike and learning control. Then it happened. The day before yesterday he decided he was ready and asked me to put his pedals back on. And suddenly he was riding. All by himself.

 He's still learning the pitfalls of not looking down and obstacles and brakes but he's riding, pedals and all.

It's a big day in his life, bigger than he can know. It's about so much more than mastering a technique. It's about limits and freedom and acceptance of risk. It's about the joy that comes with a hard earned victory. It's about confidence and finding out you really can if you put your mind to it and try very, very hard.

He's already talking about riding to school and his first trail adventure with Papa. I can't keep him off the thing. It's very much like the first flush of love. His confidence has soared and entire new vistas of possibilities have opened up before him. Each flavored with the tangy spice of freedom.

I am so very proud of you my grandson. Thank you my beloved daughter for allowing me this. Words cannot express how I feel. I don't have a lot of firsts left in my life and this is one I will treasure until the day I die.

And yet that joy is tinged with a certain sorrow. They grow up so fast. Time speeds by us unseen and unheeded. God willing there will be many more firsts in his life. Many more mountains to climb and obstacles to conquer. More new experiences to enjoy and learn from. There will be sorrow and soaring highs.

But for now I will bask in his reflected warm glow of accomplishment and share in his joy. My grandson and his bike. I think I'll go for a ride.

With my Boy.

Six