You say you want a revolution??

I've been reading a lot about Rosa Parks this week. I mean, who can help it? The woman is everywhere. With good reason, of course.

I just finished an article about thousands of people showing up at St. Paul's A.M.E. Church in Montgomery, Alabama to pay their respects to her. THOUSANDS! Isn't that incredible? I always figured I'd consider myself lucky if thousands weren't dancing in the street singing "Ding, Dong, The Witch is Dead" when I die . But I'm no Rosa Parks.

She was born on February 4, 1913 and was home schooled until she was 11. She graduated from Booker T. Washington High and when she was 20, she married Raymond Parks. She battled the segregation laws in a quiet way. One article I read said that she'd go home thirsty rather than drink from a "blacks only" water fountain and that she took the stairs instead of the "blacks only" elevator. Both small things, sure...but small things add up.

She was active in the Montgomery Voters League and the NAACP. In 1943, she was elected Secretary of the Montgomery chapter of the NAACP. A mere 12 years later, at the age of 42, she made history by refusing to give up her seat on the bus to a white man, sparking the Montgomery Bus Boycott and igniting the Civil Rights Movement.

And now, 50 years later, she is making history once more. She's the first woman (and only the second African American) to lie in honor at the Capitol Rotunda. It's a shame that she's gone but hey...92 years is a long life. And starting a revolution in the process? Hell, it doesn't get much better than that! May she rest in peace.

Surf's up!

Every year when I see the first snowflakes of the season falling, I'm reminded that odds are it will be quite awhile before I can go to the beach and feel the sand between my toes. With that in mind, I head to the stereo and pop in a CD. Believe it or not, it's not Buffett. It's the Beach Boys.

I'm not a rabid fan but I've loved the Beach Boys for as long as I can remember. I can remember sneaking into my older brother's room when he'd go out. I'd pop in his Endless Summer 8-track. I'd sing, I'd dance and even then, I mentally put myself where there was sun, surf and (of course) boys.

I was 17 when Dennis Wilson died and I think I must have cried for a week. Yeah, Brian was (and still is) the musical genius, but let's face it - Dennis was the cute one. What heterosexual girl doesn't have a soft spot for bad boys? My teenage lust for Dennis Wilson is not the point though...the point is that the Beach Boys actually have their own historic landmark. It's true, I swear. California Landmark # 1041. Check out the link if you don't believe me.

The childhood home of Brian, Dennis and Carl Wilson had been razed back in the 1980's to make room for a freeway. It seems that one day a couple of years ago, while chilling out in his backyard in northern California, a guy named Harry Jarnagan had an idea. Not just any idea, mind you, not even a damn good idea. It was a stroke of genius, if you ask me. The idea was to build a monument to the band at the site where the legend began - 3701 W. 119th Street in Hawthorne, California. C'mon now...think! You remember the story...Murry and Audree Wilson went away for a few days and the boys took the money their parents left to buy food and blew it on instruments.

Admittedly, I can be a bit obsessive. Well, maybe more than a bit, so when I first heard about this landmark project, I hit dogpile.com and did a search. All sorts of stuff popped up. Come to find out, Jarnagan's idea took two years of planning and work before it became reality. He had help, of course. (From what I've read, he's an engineer, not Superman.) There was a landmark committee and there was also a contest for people to submit design ideas. The Wilsons were even involved in choosing the final design. Tres cool, indeed.

Check out the link - the end result is incredible. They are still fundraising, by the way. There's even a Beach Boys Historic Landmark store on Ebay. And by the way - if anyone that knows Harry reads this - next time you see him, give him a high five for me, will ya?

Forgiveness and baseball

I'm a true New England girl...I want to hike thru the woods to cut my own Christmas tree down, I believe ham, beans and brown bread are the ultimate Saturday night supper, I don't consider it actually cold until the mercury drops below 10 degrees Fahrenheit, my heart belongs to the Boston Red Sox and I think the NY Yankees are Satan incarnate.

In 2004, the baseball gods forgave my beloved BoSox for trading the Babe to the Evil Empire. This year, they forgave the White Sox for the scandalous goings on during the 1919 World Series.

I'm happy about it. Sure, I would have preferred that Boston won 2 years in a row, but hey, the Sox still won. Who cares if they were white instead of red?

There's only one thing to worry about now...if the Cubs win next year, I'm pretty sure the apocalypse will be upon us.

A Parrothead looks at aging

I recently celebrated a birthday. Which one? Doesn't really matter. Let's just say it was my 29th...

I took the week off from work. I started the week by finally getting the tattoo I was supposed to get about half of my life ago. And now that I'm ...29...I figured it was about time.

Figured I should spend some time pondering the universe and my place in it. Being the Parrothead that I am, I sought the wisdom of my favorite pirate, Jimmy Buffett. Jimmy is much more than a margarita-drinking, shrimp-eating, island-loving singer/songwriter. There really is wisdom in many of his songs. Like most things that are deeper than a puddle, the key is to open your mind.

I opened my mind, in true parrothead fashion, and realized a couple of things:

1) Margaritaville is a state of mind

Life is good in Margaritaville and the mind is a powerful thing - with most people at least. It's much easier to keep from blowing a gasket if you make yourself believe you're in Margaritaville.

2) Billy Clyde was the sanest one of all

"Billy Clyde wasn't insane" is my new mantra. Yeah, I know, he's just a character in a song. And those of you that don't belong to the phlock have no clue who he is. To sum it up - Billy Clyde ditched his whole crazy corporate life one day and went to the islands to start a new life among the palm trees. How freakin' cool is that?? (Hey, at least I don't believe that everyone has a cousin in Miami.) We can all learn alot from Billy Clyde. No, I'm not saying everyone should bail on reality and go down island. I'm just saying life is too short to waste time not being happy.