A Collage of My Dearest Friends...

And there they are!

-S

For Mom...

This is not a poem, just a tribute to my Mom in preparation for this coming Mother's Day, more will follow.

As I laid in my bed last night I thought alot about Mom. It's a wonderful thing to realize just how much your mother loves you. I remember when I was very little how my mom was always there when I needed her. She used to sing songs to me like "The Teddy Bear's Picnic" and call me "Sweet Boy Jones". She was always there when I was afraid, like the time when David and Tracey insisted I watch "The Exorcist" with them. I sat up half the night scared out of my wits and Mom laid in the bed with me till I went to sleep.

I was such a stubborn little kid, but Mom always loved me no matter what. When I was about five I got into the habit of always wanting to make "Projects". I came home from school one day with some type of project in mind. I grabbed all kinds of stuff from the pantry and decided to mix it all together to make, "The Ultimate Project" I mixed all this stuff together, flour, salt, pepper, corn meal, water, an entire container of garlic powder, and I few more things I can't remember. I remember stirring and stirring this stuff until I reached a point of completion and said, "There, it's my project." I remember Mom got so mad especially since I had used her entire container of garlic powder, which I believe had not been opened until I got it. She said, "Well guess what, you're eating your project for supper!" She of course being Mom would not in a million years have made me eat that mess I had made, but for at least a couple of hours, I was affraid that I was going to have to consume, "My Project"

As I grew up and got into my teen years and involved with girls Mom always listened to me when I had a problem. When Dad was working midnight shift I would often go in and lay next to Mom in the bed and tell her about my woes in life, usually keeping her up much later than she wanted to be. She never complained though because she loved me.

The first time I ever moved away from home, I moved about one hundred miles away. Mom came up and helped me get settled in. She cried when she was leaving. I cried after she left. When I came back home somewhat broken, other than the occasional "get a job" she always made me know that she was happy I was home.

When it came time for Mom to leave and move to Kansas I didn't try to hold back the tears, I just held on to Mom and cried.

I guess Mom could sum me up with the words from a Blake Shelton song, "That one's kinda crazy, but that one is my baby."

I love you Mom!


-S

There You Have It...

I'm a fighter, I'm a poet, I'm a preacher...
I've been to school, now baby I've been the teacher.
There's a good Bon Jovi rip to start my commentary, hehe.

It seems like in my later adolescence I had a brighter picture of what my life should be like. I wanted to make a difference in the world, play music, save lives, etc., etc. I guess that's how most people start out before they get hit with the life hammer.

I often find myself having to dig through an imaginary crunchy shell to get to the sweet goodness that is truely me. The thing is, even though I feel this way at times, the person that I always have been still resides within me.

I certainly will make no claim that my life has had any worse downfalls than any other person, but to quote John Tururro in the movie Anger Management, "I have seen some sh-t."

When I was fifteen I wanted to become a minister. I attended Christian school for several years. While attending I did many theological studies. I grew up believing Christianity was one way, it was all there in black and white (and of course red) and you did not question God. As I grew older and gained more worldly knowledge, I did begin to have questions. So many Biblical things did not make sence to me and I lost my faith even up to the point of questioning the existance of God. As it stands now I still don't know. I do know that from time to time I feel a tug at my spirit. When I watched The Passion of the Christ, I wept. One may consider the things that have happened throughout my life as part of God's plan to get one stubborn, strong willed country boy to fall to his knees and cry out to Him. Heaven only knows...

I was fortunate to grow up in a loving family. Things weren't always perfect, but what ever really is. I'm the youngest of four with quite an age difference between my siblings and I, so my parents spoiled me more because, even as an adult, I was their baby. I don't think I was extremely sheltered, they just did too much for me. My dad who always fussed at my mom about spoiling me, spoiled me just as bad as Mom did. Looking back now, I wish they had done less for me. Although, I find no fault with either of them. It left me with the task of trying to prioritize many things in life and not completely knowing how to go about it. When Dad died and Mom remarried and moved a great distance from me, I sat around for the better part of a year thinking, "Well, what do I do now?" So now, way past when I should have, I am still dreaming of greater things, but for once I am trying to plan out reality.

So anyway, back to the crunchy shell that surrounds me at times. There is a guy who works with me. He just started in Corrections. He is also, I might add, an ordained Church of God minister. I gave him some advice. I told him that no matter what happens to him as a Correctional Officer, not to let it sway his faith. I talked with him about how calloused you can become when dealing with some of the ignorant beings that enjoy spending time within America's judicial system. How racist you can feel when someone of color is standing there calling you, "blank blankety blank Cracker blank blank Cracker!" I told him about how I started working in the system at nineteen and having to use physical force on someone used to really upset me, then how I became numb to it. I explained to him how numb I had become in dealing with these people and that I hoped that would not happen to him. I finally reassured him that as much as I can seem very cold at times, the compassion that I have towards humanity still remains.

So, through love, loss, tragedy, death, and dealing with some of society's worst criminals I have managed to still see the light at the end of the tunnel. If there is a divine plan for my life then these will just be valleys that I have to walk through.

Whatever the valley may be, I will keep looking toward the top of the mountain.

-S

Weird Stuff I Sometimes Think About...

In my world of creative insanity I often ponder things like these:

What if I'm on a date with a really nice girl and I suddenly start throwing up uncontrollably?
Just what the heck could I do to make that situation okay?

My name is Scott Allan MacMeeken.
If I had a son, would that make him the son of SAM?

What if I was on a date with a really nice girl and I coughed and accidently pooted?
Could I recover the evening after that? What if she started throwing up?

What if I got to meet the President of the United States and my pants fell down around my ankles?
Would he be upset?

My dog's whole goal in life is to have someone throw a ball for him.
Could he make it in major league baseball?

When people poot, why do we find it funny?
Have people always laughed at flatulence?

A DVD is the same size as a CD.
Why is it not called a DVCD?

Why do so many rich, famous people have drug problems?
Can it really be all that bad not having to worry about money?

Stupid people seem so much happier than smart people.
Is ignorance really bliss?

What if our knees bent in the opposite direction?
Would we become quadrupeds?

What if I was on a date with a really nice girl who had a pet monkey?
Would it be appropriate for me to ask if I could see her monkey?

Hmmm... Life is like a box of chocolates. When you first see it it looks grand, but the more of it you ingest, the more sick you feel.

Yes, I already know I'm weird.

-S

10-7

Upon arriving for duty two days ago I was informed by my shift commander that my good friend for many years Officer Leonard Pokrinchak "Pork Chop" had suffered a heart attack and passed away at thirty-nine years old. I had spoken with Pork Chop a few days earlier and he told me that he had been feeling really badly and was having trouble with his blood sugar. It was a terrible shock for me to hear of his passing.

Pork Chop and I met in 1996 while working together for the Florida Department of Corrections at Sumter Correctional Institution. We quickly became friends and often went to breakfast together after working the midnight shift. Later we ended up working at the county jail together where I currently still work.

It has only been alittle over a year ago that Pork Chop was in a near fatal head on car collision. He was injured badly and had to go through intense therapy to get back on his feet again. Although I'd rather not say too much for fear of repercussions, I feel he was not treated fairly by the department after his accident. I might add that Pork Chop held the rank of Sergeant .

I did not write this piece, I found it on someone's personal site and thought I'd put it here.

Meeting Thy God
The Correctional Officer stood and faced his God, which must always come to pass. He hoped his shoes were shining just as brightly as his brass. "Step forward now Correctional Officer. How shall I deal with you? Have you always turned the other cheek? To my church have you been true?" The Correctional Officer squared his shoulders and said, "No, Lord I guess I ain't, because those of us who carry badges can't always be a Saint. I've had to work most Sundays, and at times my work was rough and sometimes I've been violent. Because inside the walls are awful tough. But I never took a penny, that wasn't mine to keep, I worked alot of overtime, when the bills just got too steep. And I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear, and sometimes, God forgive me, I wept unmanly tears. I know I don't deserve a place among the people here. They never wanted me around except to calm their fears. If you've a place for me here, Lord, it needn't be so grand. I never expected or had too much, but if you don't I'll understand." There was silence all around the Throne, where the saints often trod. As the Correctional Officer waited quietly for the judgement of his God. "Step forward now Correctional Officer, you've borne your burdens well. Come walk a beat on Heaven's streets, you've done your time in Hell."
Author Unknown

It is a Law Enforcement and Corrections custom to do what is often referred to as a final call. To give full understanding, the police code 10-7, is the code for "no longer in service". Usually, immediately following the funeral service of a fallen officer the final call will be performed over the radio by a dispatcher. It is done in a series of three calls to the deceased officer.

Although it may be only here on my simple page, I will make sure that Pork Chop receives the honor that he deserves with my own final call.

"Sumter to Sgt. Pokrinchak..."

"Sumter to Sgt. Pokrinchak..."

"Sumter to Sgt. Pokrinchak..."

"Sumter to all units...be advised... Sgt. Pokrinchak is 10-7..."

Leonard "Pork Chop" Pokrinchak 1965-2005
Thanks for always being my friend and having my back Pork Chop.
I'll miss you my brother.

-S

Drifter can you make folks cry when you play and sing?...

I was thinking about my dreams of being a successful singer/guitar player in Nashville, Tn.. For some reason I've always felt like I was destined for something more than ordinary life. As I get older the reality that I'm now officially over thirty and things have not happened for me yet is becoming more and more clear, but my heart refuses to let go. I also tell myself that I have not fully given it my all. I guess alot of it is to do with my own laziness and fear of stepping off a ledge and taking chances.

I put alot of eggs into different baskets, probably way too many. I've even been working on writing a screen play for an independent film and I have some local film makers who retired from working with Paramount pictures and for some reason moved here interested in helping me with it. Now it's up to me to get this done. That's my problem. I get a ton of people interested in what I'm doing then I never follow through. You'd think after thirty-one years I'd be a bit more on the ball. To make matters worse, I know that I have this problem. So fix it you say, well I tell myself this all the time.

I have told myself that this time, this one dang time, I'm gonna follow through with this huge project I've sold everyone on. This time come hell or high water I'm gonna finish what I started. So now it's time to well, a fitting phrase would be "gitter done". I'll do this movie and see what happens from there. Then when I'm finished maybe I'll just say what the heck, it's time to go to Nashville, who knows?

I suppose the difference between people who sit around and day dream and the people who actually live their dreams is that they had the guts to take care of business. Who knows what lays ahead for me, but I do know what I want and my friends, it is not this life I'm living.

I have been given the ability for some reason or other, to be able to talk to people in a manner that they believe in what I'm saying. I have had people believe in the music I play and now I've managed to get people including some film producers to believe that my idea has what it takes to be a marketable film. Now I've got to go, or get off the pot.

I wrote this basically for whomever might read it and happen to be alot like me. If you fall into this category, listen up. It's time we the lazy dreamers got up and took command of our lives. We need no more to stand in the background of life, but move ahead. Every day we spend sifting through our mind's eye is a day we could be putting these dreams into reality. For our day is not yesterday, or tomorrow, it is today. Be not bound by what society tells you that you are unable to do, but break free from the mold, stand up and be heard. And for those wishing to join my cult movement please send $100.00 and a color photogragh to my friend Ryan cause I owe him some money. HA-HA!!

By the way, I ripped my title for this from David Allan Coe's The Ride for those who didn't know.

-S

Rockin' Out !!

This is me playing with a band I was in at my buddy's wedding reception a couple years back.
It's a bit blury dangit.

-S

Strong, clear, flexible, and non-toxic

Strong, clear, flexible, and non-toxic. I actually happened to read that on a bottle of Elmer's glue and it sent me into deep thought. I think every man likes to think that they are strong, able to withstand life's day to day perils. Clear, having a sound mind free of obstruction. Flexible, being able to bend when things don't go exactly how you like them to. Non-toxic, free of disease mental or physical not hazardous to the health or general well being of whichever mate that might choose you.

I had the experience, good albeit bad of being romantically involved with a very attractive woman who for several years pulled me around in an emotional roller coaster that I won't soon forget. Was it really bad, no not at all and this certainly is not going to be a bash session. It's more of a descriptive story to get one mere point across.

Regardless of the outcome of that relationship I have still managed to keep a level of respect and fondness for this woman. After all, it takes two to make a relationship work, or fall apart. I was at a party where two guys that worked with her happened to be at. They both were quite attracted to her and knew that her and I had been a couple. They managed to get me to the side and proceed to ask me about her performance in the bedroom. My response was pretty simple. I told them that was classified information that would be disrespectful for me to talk about. I really got to thinking about it though. How many times do we as men look at some attractive woman and only think about what her bedroom persona might be like. Alot, I know I've certainly been guilty. When do we take the time to really care about things like, her eyes are blue, she loves little fairies and Breyer horses, mint chocolate chip is her favorite ice cream, she likes to eat at TGI Fridays, she loves to watch bull riding, her favorite color is blue, she likes The Chronicles of Narnia books, she is very artistic, she has a beautiful laugh, she hates her ankles, she grinds her teeth at night, she's a cover stealer, and when she wakes up in plain old PJ's with sleep in her eyes and her hair all tousled she still takes my breath away, I could go on and on.

Hmmm...I guess all that comes later, but I think every man should be interested in knowing these things and not just what a woman is like in bed. I certainly appreciate a woman who really wants to know about me.

Yes indeed there are times when I want to rant about the triumphs of being a man, or how tough and mean I am, "Quick, take a look at how awesome my truck is." In truth I'm a simple guy who respects and loves his mother dearly. I guess the most complex thing about me is my big dreams. It's funny though, if I were a woman I could sum a decent man up with an Elmer's glue bottle.

Strong, clear, flexible, and non-toxic.


-S

My dog "Steve"

It's Steve!! My Australian Cattle Dog (Blue Heeler)

Just another day of my life.

I'll first say that I have realized now how cattle are able to pay me back for years of beef eating. I often go to the local farm and feed store and buy my dog the treated cow hoof chew toys. These are actually great for the dog's teeth and gums and my dog "Steve" loves chewing them. How they are not great is that my dog leaves them laying about as dogs do, then I come along and step on them with my bare feet. This usually sends me into a "Rosco P. Coltrane" style fit of painful hollaring, "ACK, OOO, HOO, HOO, Steve why'd you leave this stupid cow hoof where I could step on it, you dumb dipstick!" Everytime I do this, a cow somewhere is laughing at me.

Well, the pink eye seems to be clearing up pretty well after just one day of antibiotics. Now once it's gone I have massive loads of laundry to wash everything in the house I've touched since contracting the plague. Oh well, I needed to do some cleaning anyway.

My mother and step dad just got a new PC so they are now soon to be reeled in by the amazing tool, (or to some, addictive beast) we call the worldwide web. My mom lives in Kansas, which is like 2,000, uh, well it's far away from me. I call her alot, but I still miss her all the time so now I can email her too.

I have nothing really deep to write about today. I guess my mind has been too weak and boggled by sickness as of late for me to really think hard. I was actually thinking about this Beta/Siamese Fighting Fish that I have. I bought it a year ago and have never named it. Maybe he needs to be called Foo-Man-Choo. You know, they mention Foo-Man-Choo in country songs. Travis Tritt in It's A Great Day To Be Alive - Might even grow me a foo-man-choo, or Tim McGraw in Live Like You Were Dying - I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Foo-Man-Choo. I don't know what's going on here as I ramble on... Long live the south!

-S

The Significance of April Tenth

April tenth is one of those dates that will forever remind me of good and bad for the rest of my life.

In the very early hours of the morning of April 10, 1983 my dad woke me up to tell me that he had gotten a call from my mom and my brother-in-law letting him know that after a long wait my eldest sister had given birth to a baby girl, Holly Jane. I was almost ten years old and I still remember that morning vividly. My first niece, I was such a proud uncle.

On the night of April 10, 2004 while attending the 21st birthday of that very same niece at my sister's house, my sister got a phone call from the hospital informing us that our dad had passed away. The one man who loved me unconditionally, the man who I thought was truely the man of steel was taken from me by cancer.

People who have had near death experiences have said that their whole lives have flashed before their eyes at the moment they thought they were going to die. When I received the news of my dad's death my whole life flashed in front of me. Thirty years with my father, the good times and the bad, then the abrupt realization that from then on out my relationship with him would be reduced to memories. I drove home and went into my dad's room. His favorite pair of pants were laying across the bed just as he had left them. I layed in my dad's bed, held on to those pants and cried harder than I think I have ever cried in my life for probably an hour. I had felt various types of pain in my life. From splitting up with the woman I loved more than life, even up to losing other loved ones, but nothing ever hurt as bad as losing Dad.

Now an entire year has passed. Not a day has gone by that I haven't missed Dad, but it's gotten better. In a piece I wrote that was read at my Dad's funeral I quoted his favorite author, western novelist Louis L'Amour. I will put that quote here now.

"When I die, remember that what you knew of me is with you always. What is buried is only a shell of what was. Do not regret the shell, but remember the man. Remember the father."
-Louis L'Amour

I miss you so much Dad.

And of course, Happy 22nd birthday Holly Jane! Uncle Scott loves ya!

American Cancer Society
www.cancer.org

-S

Pink Eye

I'm going to end up with two posts today, so this'll be numero uno.

For the first time in 31 years, I have pink eye. I have no idea how it came about, I just woke up yesterday with my eye all crusted shut, and there you go. I went to the doctor and got on antibiotics so it should be cleared up in a few days. This is a first and if not last, hopefully not for many years to come will I have another bout with this stuff.

I remember when I was a little kid in elementary school and the random kid would get sent home with pink eye. I remember thinking to myself, "Wait, you mean I can get sent home from school and not have to come back for several days and all I have to deal with is a red eye? Yes, sign me up. This is what I want. Give me some pink eye. Where is my pink eye?" My feable little mind could not have fathomed even the slightest idea of how much this stuff sucks. Just the agonizing itching would have reeled me into a little ball of raging fury. Not to mention the constant disgusting drainage that comes off it. This stuff is like some type of medievel plague.

Hmmm... seems as though most of my blog is about my various recent ailments. I should've called it Down With The Sickness.

-S

Hmmm...

Blah, blah, blah

I left work early tonight because I felt horrible. My head has been killing me and to add to it all my ears having been popping from sinus pressure. It sounds like someone is holding a bowl of rice crispies up to my ear. I ate a pack of crackers earlier, thats the first solid food I've eaten in a couple days because my throat has been sore. I HATE being ill.

Dang, I could just rant about stuff. I just got $600.00 in work done on my truck and it's still not right. The thing is I took it to a friend of mine's auto garage so he won't give me crap about getting it right, but I hate even having to mess with it. I guess because I hate anything that gets in the way of my schedule. I suppose we are all like that.

I will feel better soon and all will be well.

-S