Watch Me Daddy...Daddy, Are You Watchin...?

From the wisdom that can only be imparted from a long-inhabited bar stool, My Dad told me something that has stuck with me for my entire adult life. In reality, he told me many things over the years from that lofty throne...always the same one; second stool from the far end, red plastic/leather and patched with many rips of duct tape. Through time, his Kingly props and tools rarely varied. The pack of Tarrytons with the obligatory Zippo lighter, dice cup for juke box rolls, a few bills in a silver money clip and assorted coinage lay staged in front of him, the septour of his rule.

My dad was the only man I ever met that received disability payments for rheumatism in his right hip. Disability for that particular ailment is not rare...but developing it from picking up wet bar change might be a contestable argument for the state.

Oh, the profound impartment? It is this thing he told me.

"If your life ain't busy, you ain't livin' your life right."

We are trusting that "busy" could be interpreted as bs'ing with the rancher next door for hours in a little country bar. This one, and hundreds like it sit out in the middle of nowhere, and usually right next to the feed store which sits out in the middle of no where.

Maybe the feed store needed company. More often than not, you found that the man that owned one usually owned the other.

This particular Hole In The Wall sat well north of Bell Road on Cave Creek Road...the path named for its ultimate destination, the villa of Cave Creek Arizona. The twenty-odd miles between this bar and Cave Creek is considered "scenic" by tourists. We cursed this land for its hostility and outright hatred of us who were foolish enough to ranch it.

"jumping Cactus" (or Cholla for those with an aversion to anything but the proper botanical name) lay in wait for those silly enough to brush against it. BlackButton scorpions, sidewinder rattlesnakes and a close relative of the Brown Recluse spider are only a few of the delights that await the Arizona rancher. Sun Stroke, Melanoma and Corneal irradiation Damage stalk those fortunate enough to avoid the first three.

Marketing Arizona as a tourist state should be considered a felony. Established legal residency should be grounds for an incompetancy hearing.

Dick Van Dyke, Hugh Downs and other assorted rich folk made their nests in Cave Creek, or more precisely in CareFree...the adjoining villa. It is a beautiful retreat even for tourists and passers-by. I believe the word "quaint" was invented upon gazing at the first post card from that locale. Those holding that ideal have obviously never walked the "quaint" terrain. But then again, you did not come here for a geology lesson...my apologies.

Of all the bars I have been in, and I have been in a few, I was surprised by the name of this establishment. It seems to be a popular name for little taverns or gin mills world-wide. Trust me, I have imbibed potent potables on six continents. It is usually stenciled in huge letters on the front of the building, often bright red...a proud monicker it seems:

OPEN 6 AM

So it was in this smoky, stale and dimly-lit Throne Room that I was taught one of the most important life-lessons anyone could learn.

I said it was taught to me...it took me another 35 years to actually learn it.

With two full time jobs, a demanding treatment schedule for my uh...affliction and my involvement with the Linux Community, I thought that I had accomplished the goal I set for myself a year ago.

Stay busy...busy people don't die.

Here's the visual...the seditious cells within my body and the Grim Reaper are gathered around a card table passing the time. Cheap cigar smoke hangs in the air and the only sound besides the shuffling of cards and the tinkling of ice is the slow, rythmic ticking of the clock. Death snorts and throws down his cards while looking at his watch.

"Isn't this friggin' guy Max nested elements reached gonna take a break?"

Max nested elements reachedMax nested elements reached