On the way to work this morning I hit a slowdown in traffic and noticed everyone merging into the right lane just ahead. As I crested the small rise I saw why. A small pickup truck was on its side across the road, blocking the suicide lane and the inner lane on my side of the road, the top of the truck facing traffic. The accident had happened recently enough that no emergency response of any sort had arrived yet but, more notably for me, no one else had stopped either. From the time I saw the truck to the time I got there something close to 100 cars passed it. Everyone was just merging over to get around the truck and go on with their day. Well, that isn’t entirely accurate, I guess. There were a few people who had pulled over into an adjacent parking lot and were sitting in their cars gawking. I got the distinct impression they were wishing for some popcorn. Now, I’m no physician and I knew that there was probably nothing I could do to help the person in that truck, save for providing a little company until help arrived but I stopped just the same.

While this particular incident set a new low (though not by much) it was hardly an isolated case. If only it were. A couple of years ago while driving down I-185 in Columbus, GA I noticed a car up ahead on the right shoulder with someone standing behind it. As I got closer I saw that it was a grandma-mobile, complete with grandma standing behind it. With the trunk open. And all her groceries out on the ground. And grandma trying feverishly to get the tire out of the well in the trunk. Unfortunately it outweighed her so she didn’t seem to be making much headway. Oh, did I mention it was June?

You don’t have to be Matlock to deduce a few things about this scene. Grandma had gotten a flat tire and pulled over and she had been there long enough to unload a considerable load of groceries, remove the jack and attempt to get the tire out, several times from the looks of her. So she’d been standing there in near 100° heat with humidity hovering around 95% (welcome to summer in the South) while many hundreds, or perhaps thousands of cars passed her by. And when I say grandma, I mean really, obviously, very much a grandma. She was perhaps seventy and all of 4′8″. Very threatening, lemme tell ya.

Traffic was anything but light and I was four lanes away (in the fast lane, big surprise) so I was unable to safely get over and stop to help her. Having noticed the conspicuous shortage of help, I went to the next exit about a mile up, doubled back and drove the five miles back to the previous exit and circled back to find her still standing there, still trying unsuccessfully to get the tire out of the car. All of that took me more than ten minutes and she was still there alone. I suspect it took me longer to get back to help her than it did to change the tire and have her on her way, melted ice cream and all. And when I initially approached her she offered to pay me to change the tire for her. Pay me. Really. There was no possible way I would’ve accepted her money. Even if I had been so inclined to I’m pretty sure my grandma Mead, rest her soul, would be waiting for me in heaven to grab me by my ear and give me a long talkin’ to, complete with disappointed look. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to experience that.

Then there was the lady and her six year old that Christy and I stopped to pick up. They had already gotten over a half mile down a busy highway from their broken down car without anyone stopping. And the time that Christy’s car died in the road at a busy intersection with a then 3 year old Courtney in the car. I was out of town and AAA takes forever to respond in this area so there she sat, half in the road, for over an hour before someone stopped to at least help her push the car completely clear of the traffic lane. That good soul was an elderly gentleman on his way home from his dialysis treatment.

And on and on it goes. I guess I really shouldn’t be shocked. I’m suppose this is not a new problem. You only have to look as far as the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke to know that there have always been those happy to pass by on the other side of the road from someone in need.  Even so, I still can’t get past incidents like these. I mean, don’t we all have grandmothers? Can’t we all imagine it might be us in that overturned truck one day? Can’t we all recognize that it could just as easily be our wife and child? Very, very few things in life truly, completely elude my understanding, but I’m afraid this does.

And I’m not relating these stories to cast myself as some wonderful person. That would be a little like bragging about not beating up the weak kid or not robbing a bank. What I did in both cases cost me nothing but a small amount of time and neither in neither case did I do anything that I would consider beyond the barest minimum of what passes for humanity. And, unless it was jerk’s only day on the interstate (kinda like ‘couples only’ or ‘backwards only’ skate at the skating rink) and I just missed the announcement, I’m reasonably sure that many people who otherwise pass for “good people” drove past that day. They must have. I can only suppose that each rationalized why they couldn’t stop. I really don’t know.

The good news in this case is that the guy in the truck had already climbed out with nothing more serious than the stray scrape or bruise and grandma suffered nothing beyond they previously mentioned loss of ice cream but either case could have ended much worse. I could understand someone not stopping to help, say, me. I’m a big guy who might be up to no good. But, c’mon, an eldely lady? A mother and child? Someone in an over-turned vehicle? And all in very busy public places. If someone can explain this to me, please do. As it stands now, I can only shake my head in dismay. The Good Book tells us that the Good Samaritan was a helpful neighbor to the man who had been robbed and enjoins us to “Go and do likewise.” Am I the only one that finds it a little depressing that we should even have to be told?

/g

Warning: Because of the subject matter discussed, this post unavoidably contains material that many may find offensive. You may want to stop here. If you choose to read on, please accept my apologies ahead of time if you are offended. That certainly isn’t my intent.

OK, they’ve done it. They’ve finally done it. They have made me write my first crotchety old man post. I was listening to the radio yesterday and heard a song called “Addicted” by the band Saving Abel. I’d heard it before but hadn’t actually listened to the lyrics. Now, let me start out by saying that I am not a prude or even close to it. I may not like the state of what passes for morality these days, but I know the score. I really don’t offend easily but when I actually listened to that song I realized that the lyrics are grossly inappropriate for radio. Well, they’re inappropriate in any context if I’m being completely honest, but even more so on a mainstream radio station. So you know what I am talking about here are the first several lines from the song:

I'm so addicted to
All the things you do
When you're going down on me
In between the sheets
Or the sound you make
With every breath you take
It's unlike anything
When you're loving me

Oh girl lets take it slow
So as for you,
Well you know where to go
I want to take my love
And hate you til the end

I won’t even bother to dissect that little bit of prose. If you need it explained, you really shouldn’t be reading this to begin with. I’m not naïve and I know that there have been lyrics that bad and worse for many years but it used to be that those were only heard by those who bought the album, not on the radio. I grew up when songs like “Pour Some Sugar on Me” got tons of airplay. Rather or not that was also inappropriate is a whole other discussion but at least, at least the overt sexual references were made metaphorically. These lyrics are not just explicit, they are crass.

What ever happened to radio versions of songs? Well, I guess that concept still exists somewhat because on the same station I’ve heard sanitized versions of other songs where drug references are omitted, if just barely. Why that and not this? While I’m on the subject I have another ax to grind. Why is it where ever the term “God damn” is used they bleep “God” and not “damn”? I mean, really. Can someone please explain the thought process that led to that practice? I guess they think we find God more offensive than expletives. By they I mean the brain dead morons at the broadcasting companies, of course. Which would you rather have your child ask:”What does God mean?” or “What does damn mean?” I sincerely hope they wouldn’t have to ask the former, but you get my point. And I know there will be someone who reads this and thinks that I’m overreacting. I would just ask that if that’s you, please email me your phone number. That way, if my kids do somehow hear that song I can call and let you explain it to my six year old when she asks me “Daddy, what does ‘going down on’ mean?” On second thought, nevermind. I’ll field that one, you just stay clear of my kids. Thanks.

You see, I used to listen to the radio in my car when the kids were along. Then it got where the subject matter in the morning and afternoon talk shows were bad enough I couldn’t listen to them with children present. I usually wouldn’t even when alone for that matter. But at least we could listen to the radio the rest of the day when they are actually playing music. We can’t even do that anymore. You just never know what is going to come out of the speakers.

The frustrating thing is that it need not be that way. Equally popular is the song “1,2,3,4″ by Plain White T’s that could’ve been ripped straight from out of the 50’s. Here is the first little bit of that song’s lyrics:

Give me more loving than I’ve ever had
Make me feel better when I’m feeling sad
Tell me I’m special even when I know I’m not
Make it feel good when it hurts so bad
Barely get mad
I’m so glad I found you
I love being around you
You make it easy

It's as easy as 1-2-1-2-3-4
There’s only one thing two do
three words four you...
(I love you) I love you
There’s only one way two say
Those three words
And that’s what I’ll do...
(I love you) I love you

See? Isn’t that nice? OK, so that may be the other extreme, but I’m OK with that. You know, I’m not one of those people who think that any and all sexual references in songs are inappropriate. I’m really not. I think music, or at least good music, is not just listened to, it is experienced. Listening to music that finds you where you are can be a visceral experience. That music both expresses and invokes strong emotion. Given that the most intense human emotions revolve around love, including physical expression of it, I would find it odd it the topic didn’t come up fairly often in music.

Look, I’m not picking on Saving Abel here. The thing that annoys me most, in fact, is how much I liked the song before I stopped and listened to it. And now I can’t. Not all of their music is objectionable and they are far from the only ones out there today spewing garbage onto our airwaves. All I’m asking is this: Keep it tasteful. It doesn’t have to be explicit and it certainly doesn’t need to be crude. If it is, let those who want to buy it listen to it. I don’t need that much detail about you via public broadcast. I think the term is T.M.I. That’s all I’m sayin’. Now, if you’ll excuse me while I go put my soap box back in the closet. In the mean time, thanks for listening.

/g