Newfound Talents Will Come to Good Use

You saw him in "Joseph" at High Point Friends as Potiphar, the rich man with no sense of rhythm. Then you saw him at High Point Theatre in "Seussical: The Musical," where he nearly squashed a Who girl during the opening dance number. Then you saw him as Benny in "I'm Getting Murdered in the Morning," a role nearly tailor-made for this up and coming star. And now, High Point is in for a treat with "Miracle on 34th Street, the Musical" coming to High Point Theatre and starring yours truly, Phillip Haworth!

But please don't be confused. Though I may not have the leading role in the play, I will still have the starring role. If you're still confused, this is along the same lines as the old adage, 'there are no small parts, only small actors.' Or, as I like to say, it's all a state of mind. My family, however, likes to put it into a different perspective by telling me it's all in my mind. Same thing.

Be that as it may, I think I've done pretty well with the stage productions that I've been a part of. I consider "Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" my first actual production since I don't recall doing any 'stage' acting prior to 34 years of age. My stage wife in "Joseph," who was really a 14 year-old, had to pull me away from the set to teach me our dance. Come opening night, I was a little nervous, off-rhythm and shaky, but I did not step on her toes!

I did a couple of other church plays before I moved on to "Seussical: The Musical." This time it was my son's friend Ann who worked with me my on my dancing routine. It seems she felt as if I needed some polishing and improving.

"If you step on my foot one more time, Mr. Phillip," she said, "I am going to have to kill you!"

From that moment forward, I think I got a little lighter on my toes. Surely the great citizens of High Point noticed the dignified, graceful agility of that one particularly funny looking, largish sized Who. I hope to put my newfound talents to good use in the upcoming performance of "Miracle on 34th Street, the Musical."

Notice I refrained from commenting on the eloquence that was my performance in "I'm Getting Murdered in the Morning." I'll let two comments from the audience speak for that particular performance.

"Wow," said one. "You were truly a convincing redneck!"

"That performance and especially that mullet," said the other. "Wow!"

Shooting Ducks

Once upon a time, there were three ducks. Their names were Bubba duck, Sawbuck duck and Two-Buck duck. One day the three ducks were busy flapping their wings and heading south for the winter.

"Hey, Bubba duck," said Sawbuck duck. "We're in luck. Farmer Nucknuk hasn't gathered his corn. Remember, we've sworn to warn each other when food is found."

So the three ducks struck out and headed for the field. They ate and they ate until they could eat no more. The three ducks nearly nodded off and were about to snore when a man bore upon them.

"I want to shoot you," said the man. "That is my plan. What luck! Now I can pluck three ducks!"

"You don't want to shoot me," said Bubba duck. "I have an infection in my knee, as you can plainly see. I'm too large and untasty. So please don't waste me!"

With that, Bubba duck spread his wings and took off. Sawbuck duck and Two-Buck duck stared at Bubba duck, feeling like their luck had just run out. They stood, stuck in their tracks. The man with the plan slowly pulled out a camera. He started to shoot as his feet shuffled in his boots.

Sawbuck duck went into action and struck a pose. He stuck his wings up and pointed his toes. He ruffled his feathers and angled his nose. He blurred every picture with each cheap, silly pose. The man with the plan simply turned away and ran, leaving that lame duck stuck in the last pose he struck.


Moral: Never go with a Sawbuck duck when a Two-Buck duck will do -- or -- just because something rhymes, doesn't mean it's good!

Kicking the VW Habit

I've decided to follow the model that one hears about in organizations such as Alcoholics Anonymous. As best I've ascertained, the idea is to admit you have a problem first. That way, you can face it head on and attempt to tackle it and bring it under control. I'm adopting my own simplified, and possibly skewed, version to tackle my own problem. Hi. My name is Phillip. And I'm a car-aholic.

My good friend Al, who I like to play golf with sometimes, came over for dinner Friday night. During the evening, he mentioned a convertible VW Beetle that he knew of for sale. Then he went straight for my biggest weakness and mentioned that he knew about a Karmen Ghia that was for sale, too.

My heart raced momentarily. My disease took control of my brain and offered three immediate financial solutions -- bank robbery, a job offer with a six figure income or a stroke of lottery luck. Solution one required too much planning and a slim chance of long-range success. Solution two means I'd have to quit my current job, which simply won't happen. And solution three... Unfortunately, you have to have money to buy that winning ticket. And on a last note, I've given up Volkswagens.

"Sorry Al," I said. "You know I've given up VW's. They're bad for me."
"But you're thinking about it," he pressed. "You're interested."

Well, of course I was interested! But I'm sticking with my guns and I've given up the VW's because I've owned several, but they haven't been kind to me. Now I'm thinking about convertible Ford Fairlanes. I could fix one of those. My wife got me thinking about fixing up an old Ford truck. That could be fun. I love trucks. I've also carried on a mental love affair with BMW's. Specifically, I'd like to get my hands on an old BMW 2002.

Luckily, neither my wife nor my son desire to be destitute with a fleet of broken down cars littering the back yard with a crazy old man puttering around them and muttering what needs to be done to each. I suppose they are referring to me as the crazy old man. Nah...  Probably not.

Church Signs I Have Read

I'm a voracious reader. I read novels, cereal boxes, pamphlets, owner's manuals, product descriptions and street signs. One of my favorite things to read is church signs. Church signs are the most fun. They always have the most interesting messages. "God Loves Americans" is a church sign I mentioned in a previous blog. Read into THAT what you will.

The coast is always a fun place to read church signs. One of my favorite signs ever was at a little church on NC Highway 70 that read "If you eat the devil's corn, he'll choke the grits out of you!" I still ponder over that one from time to time. I hope to understand that one day. That exact same church ran this one several years later during a scorching drought: "You think this is hot?"

My wife and son were in the car with me when we ran into this sign, luckily not literally. The church itself was located on a tight curve somewhere in the mountains of North Carolina. It said, "Come on in Sundays if you want to know Jesus. Text and drive if you want to meet him."

"The devil called. He wants his weather back" was on a Lexington church sign recently, referencing the current warm weather trend. I'm not sure when or where I read this last one, but it seemed to speak to me. It read "Don't give up! Moses was once a basket case!"

Another Desperate Attempt at Coolness

Hands up, everyone! I'm passing out imaginary high fives to all of you in the wake of my most recent "cool" accomplishment. Pardon my lack of modesty, but I still have what it takes at 43 years old to make it to the top of a 55 foot vertical ascent. Don't let the fact that it was a fabricated rock wall fool you. It was a difficult climb. There were several children, whose ages I won't disclose here, who simply didn't make it.

As I reached the bottom, I noticed I had my 13-year-old son's rapt attention. I imagine it was probably pretty special for him to see his dear old dad tackling such an insurmountable task. I gave him my most charming smile, trying hard not to gasp and wheeze.

"What'd you think of that, buddy," I said, seeing the admiration, adoration and wonderment in my child's eyes.

"Umm," he said. "Good job, Dad. You just barely managed to beat that seven-year-old to the top of the wall. How much of a head start did you have on her, anyway?"

I turned to one of my son's best friends, Ann. Surely I would get some encouragement and positive feedback from her. I suspect she admires me and looks up to me as a role model.

"Really, Mr. Phillip," she said. "I'm impressed you made it to the top. But if you're just trying to be cool again, you kinda fell short when you landed on your butt instead of your feet. Yes, I did see that!"

Wow, these kids are tough. Maybe I'll have to get back into shape and tackle a real rock climb that exceeds 55 feet like I did when I was a teenager. Certainly I could reclaim my original air of "coolness" that way. I'll start a strict dieting and training regimen tomorrow. Now if I can just find a sticky note to help me remember that...

Growing Old Is Mandatory, Growing Up Is Optional

Generally speaking, one just doesn't reach the age of 43 without learning a few tricks along the way. During the first 43 year journey of my life, I have collected a few sayings of my own. You know, my own original pearls of wisdom, or tidbits of knowledge of which I will pass along to my 13 year old son to make growing up a little easier for him.

Here's a (very) small sampling of what I've come up with so far:

Never lick a flaming marshmalllow unless you want a burnt tongue.

Life is like a cow pasture. You never know what you're going to step in.

Life is like a box of chocolates... I know. You've heard this one. I said it before Forrest Gump did. I think.

The worms of life are merely bait for tomorrow's fish.

A trout in the stream is inevitable. A trout on the hook is divine. A trout in a picture with you is proof.

If life gives you a cold, wet nose and slobbery tongue, then wake your owner in time for work.

And two of my favorites:

The early nerd gets the virus.

Happiness is a fuzzy dog.

I could put my whole list into a book. It could be a best seller. Or I could just do myself a favor and follow my 13 year old son around and write down everything he says. Don't let his age fool you. He comes up with sayings that nearly equal my own -- and sometimes exceed them!

"Growing old is mandatory," he said, during dinner conversation tonight. "Growing up is optional."

I particularly liked it, though I'm still pondering what or who inspired it.

With Perfect Direction Sense, a GPS Is Just an Extra

My GPS gave me quite a scare today. I glanced at it and saw the words "GPS is lost." Granted, I was only in Greensboro and I had only made one incorrect turn, but that is NOT what I want to see on my little windshield mounted lifeline.

Don't get me wrong. I have an excellent sense of direction. Once, when I was about 19 years old, I got to Myrtle Beach, SC, simply by heading east and utilizing my memory. And, yes, I was by myself. I still enjoy reminiscing over that trip. I love long car rides!

I even drove to North Carolina Outward Bound base camp in the mountains by memory. I did that approximately five years after my own Outward Bound excursion that I participated in. To this day, I'm still not sure what inspired that trip, but, man was I glad when I finally discovered the entrance to that place.

Now when I leave the house, my wife and my teenager will ask, "Did you get the GPS?" Even my mother and father-in-law, who both understand me too well, will ask if I've got the little device.

"We don't want another mishap like that job interview you went on, do we," Ginga said. No, we don't!

Regardless, the little screen sent my gizzards swimming through my lungs as my brain nose-dived into my stomach. I pulled over into a parking lot and re-read it.

"... GPS has lost the signal currently. Please wait a moment..." is what it really said. And then, poof, my little cartoon car popped back up with the little red line telling me to turn around the next chance I got. Like I said, I wasn't really that worried. It's not like I couldn't have wandered my way home from Greensboro. Eventually.