There was a boy who had two flags around his waist. In his hands, a ball. Underneath his feet, the wind. But the wind was taken away, and the ball was useless when he heard a whistle. Looking down, the boy realized that one of his flags…was gone…
Are you a Head Coach? The family member of a head coach? If so, you may want to read this article…
I passed by there several times since my arrival in Los Angeles. Curious what lay beyond the shrubs and cobble-stone driveways that winded upward. Lofted above the hustle and bustle of the city. Today, my curiosity was quenched.
For several weeks, I had made plans to tour Beverly Hills and the homes that inhabited it. I’ve heard so many praises about it over the years, that I had to see what all the talk was about. Needless to say, when I finally saw the behemoth houses, I must say I was quite impressed.
We’re talking about real wealth. CEO’s. Celebrities. Foreign Dignitaries. Hugh Hefner. You name any profession, and the creme de la creme of that profession has a house here. These residences go to prove that if you want to talk a big game in this town, there’s a lot criteria that has to be met.
While trying to figure out what to write about two things occurred:
1) My cousin Katie Noonan asked me on Facebook if I could see any fires.
2) Simultaneously, I heard the siren of a fire truck pass by my house.
Leave it to the powers that be to determine what will be written in this world, and what will not be. So it is my honor to present to you, my feelings about my first fire since living in Burbank.
Back in Mississippi, the roster of natural disasters consists of hurricanes, tornadoes, and occasionally some flooding. Although I was too young to remember my first experience with one of these, I was living in New Orleans when Hurricane Katrina hit. Front row seats to one of the worst hurricanes in recorded U.S. history. Well, I did have front rows seats, but quickly moved up to the mezzanine once I caught wind of its coming.
There are some professional athletes that appreciate the good things they have in life. But then there are some that are more interesting to read about.
The old saying goes…
Birds of a feather, flock together…
But if one of those birds is the ugly duckling, they need some changes to get back in line. The Atlanta Falcons are a prime example.
For many Angelenos, or those heavily immersed in visual arts circles, the term LACMA is a familiar one. If you don’t fall under either one of those categories, LACMA is an acronym for the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, one 
one of the finest art museums in the world, in my estimation.
Majesties of Spain, Splendors of Versailles, and Palaces of St. Petersburg are some of the many exhibits I’ve attended over the years. I have always enjoyed going to art museums for several reasons. First, I am an admirer of the aesthetics of a painting and seeing how the splashes and combination of colors can stir someone’s emotions. Secondly, nothing but respect is all I can give to artists, who toil away for years at a craft that I would never have the ability to perform. All of this without a single guarantee or promise that their work will ever be placed on any pedestals. This is the marking of a true artist.
However, since my arrival to California, I had been eager to pay LACMA a visit, but simply didn’t have the chance to go there…until last week.
