This article is a reprint from a column I pen each month for the website of my high school class www.DanMccarty70.com. While it has been over four decades since the 400+ of us exploded from the halls of Dan McCarthy High and into our lives, today over 250 of us still meet on a regular basis in cyberspace to remember, smile and stay in touch. I hope you enjoy my Ramblings.
Are You Making a Joyful Noise?
As I get older, my movie preferences seem to have swung like a tire swing suspended under a 150-year-old live oak. No longer do I stand in wide-eyed amazement as the robot version of Arnold Schwarzenegger mows down legions of bad guys with an AK-47 that never seems to run out of ammo. Today, much to the horror of my testosterone-ridden, chest-thumping high school buds, it is possible to find me willingly watching a chick flick with my wife Joan on a Sunday afternoon.Now, before I begin my trek into this month’s Rambling, let me state without equivocation that I am not yet senile, nor am I experiencing the lasting effects of the sixties that would cause me to forget that it was only last month I reviewed the movie The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. So, even at the risk of being known from this point forward as the one-man version of Siskel and Ebert for the Motor Coachers of America, I will share with you my Rambling thoughts on one of the most uplifting (because we all need a bit of uplifting in this crazy world) and toe-tapping movies I’ve seen in quite some time. It is Joyful Noise, starring Dolly Parton and Queen Latifah. This music-filled flick follows a choir from the small town of Pacashau, Georgia, as they pursue their collective dream of winning the National Joyful Noise singing championships.
Movie Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlR_vDzDNyE
The film’s soundtrack smoothly merges two genres: pop and gospel. And I just dare you to try not to sway to the beat at least once. This movie even makes me want to dance, and that would truly be a sight.
As in each of our lives, this choir faces overwhelming competition and some hurdles just a bit too high to muster the courage to even begin to try to compete. But each of us has learned firsthand that the most difficult
part of any journey is simply suiting up, showing up, and then taking that all-important first step. How many times has each of us been ready to quit—in business, in family relationships, and even in friendships? But that last push, the extra 10 percent of effort, ultimately brought us a joy that today has made another of those memories that last a lifetime.
The choir in this movie faces just such a moment when their pint-sized competition, led by Michael Jackson soundalike Ivan Kelley, brings the crowd to its feet with 
their rendition of Billy Preston’s “That’s the Way God Planned It,” another classic from the era of the best music created—our era.
their rendition of Billy Preston’s “That’s the Way God Planned It,” another classic from the era of the best music created—our era.
This movie is worth watching just to hear this song. One thing I enjoyed about this film the most is how many of these songs come straight out of the sixties and seventies—“Maybe I’m Amazed,” “The Man in the Mirror,” “I Want to Take You Higher,” and this Preston/Beatles tune “That’s the Way God Planned It.”
Should their small town choir quit in the face of overwhelming odds? Do you quit when facing challenges? You can just see the “who can beat that” expression on their faces as eyes widen and mouths gape they listen in stunned silence from backstage to the crowd who, in no uncertain terms, signal their rafter-rattling approval for the competitors of our heroes and heroines.Isn’t that the same type dilemma life has thrown at us all, sometimes in large doses, throughout the six decades we have traveled this magical mystery tour together. But by now, we know that things are never as bad as they seem, and of the things we have feared most, now and then, one actually happened. So remember, the way to overcome these seemingly insurmountable obstacles of life is simply to extend your left foot first, right foot second, and then repeat the process. Yes, forward motion can be the best cure for many of our darkest days.
I remember one of my darkest. In October of 1998, a phone call at 6:00 a.m. woke my wife and me from a deep sleep. On the other end of the phone was our sobbing son. The message was the worst news that could have been delivered. In the middle of the night, our 2½-year-old grandson Josh had died. Trust me, my friend, the news
doesn’t get any darker, nor the pain more severe. Even today, fifteen some odd years later, in a busy airport or mall, I glimpse a 2½-year-old boy with flaming red hair, giggling loudly, as he runs to escape the open arms of a chasing parent, swinging his half-full bottle by the nipple, and my heart breaks.Yes, there are times in life that it might seem that God is using you for target practice. If so, it might be helpful to remember that after all, He is God, and therefore, He would not miss if He had the crosshairs centered on you. So, because you are still standing, it wasn’t Him.
But, if I am honest, now that the pain has subsided, I can look back and acknowledge that although Josh’s death rocked me to my core, some positive things occurred from the terrible day. Josh’s foundation has built several churches in Cuba, helped hurricane survivors who needed generators, and provided help for a twenty-something widower forced to raise two children alone when their young mother died.
So, however dark the night, we should remain confident that the sun will rise again tomorrow, so the trick is —“Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying.”
Just as the Pacashau crew emerged victorious against what seemed overwhelming odds, we, too, can overcome those obstacles that block us from what we desire the
most in life. But remember that all success comes at a price, be that hard work, sacrifice, or the risk of all we own. Only you can determine whether that price is too high or a virtual bargain.But I can assure you, without doubt, that if you are willing to believe in yourself and deliver the effort required to seize what you desire with all your heart, it will be yours. And when you have your cherished prize firmly in your grasp, don’t forget to… Make a Joyful Noise.
Keep Rollin' ,
Richard
find that the “Best Exotic Marigold Hotel” was not luxurious, certainly not the best, in fact barely a hotel.
waking each morning with a bluebird perched on my shoulder. But, like most of you, I have acquired a bit of wisdom that comes only with age. That wisdom has taught me to fear less while simultaneously grabbing the reins of the chariot of my life with a simple understanding that, of all the things I have feared the most in my life, now and then, one actually happened.
be when I was younger… As Hillary Cooper so eloquently said, “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” I, for one, am determined to have my breath taken more times than I can count.
understand that the only thing certain about our future is that it will be different. Let us resolve to drink in all that life has to offer, not in dainty little sips, but in big messy gulps, with the excess of all we cherish streaming down our chin and pooling at our feet. Let us work hard, so one day, many years from now, many will miss us.
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with bear hugs. And as we left, I heard one after another of these aging baby boomers issue the parting phrase “I love you, brother.” On my drive home, I could not help smiling, thinking about how that phrase would’ve been interpreted by our peers, if as the third period bell rang, I had turned Bobby Harrell and said, “I love you, Bobby,” and he replied, “I love you, too, Richard.”
a friend is not surprised when you do something stupid; quite to the contrary, he knows you well enough to be surprised when you don’t. Yet through it all, he is still your friend.
Nancy Reagan described this accursed disease well when she referred to it as “the long goodbye.” I feel we have been saying goodbye to Dad for a decade. Like helplessly watching a man just out of reach sink slowly into quicksand, we have watched this wonderful man, father, husband, and pastor slowly slide into darkness, being not with us or gone, but hanging somewhere between.
if talking to an old friend.
guess the Southern gentleman in me makes it a bit more difficult to profess outwardly my love for so many of you ladies. But rest assured that you, too, are deeply loved and your friendship appreciated more than you will ever know. You each know who you are.
definition, and roughly 20,000,000 sites where that word or phrase can be found. Oh, thank God for Mr. Google. It has made this aging baby boomer look almost intelligent himself. The next thing you know somebody will be calling me one of the smart kids. As I write this article, my feet are on the desk, my arms crossed across my chest, a microphone strapped to my head, and my Dragon Dictation is typing this Rambling for me. Maybe I’m turning into my version of the lyrics from the Zager & Evans song “In the Year 2525.”
struck a chord in me. Can you remember when sixty seemed old? We all might be marching in cadence toward our mid-sixties, but this aging baby boomer promises not to go quietly into the night. I have come to believe that life is not, nor should it be, simple or pretty. It is a menagerie of good decisions and bad, laughter and tears, mixed with a heaping helping of ups and downs. But I for one will not be accused of looking pretty and well preserved in my casket.
of their life. I choose to believe that the end is nowhere in sight. I think the best years are yet to come. And I darn well intend to continue to live with the full expectation that God is not finished with me—that I am a work in progress that can cause the future to be exciting, fun, and productive.
grandchildren how to play Xbox. I’m simply asking each of you to take a moment to post one simple article, joke, adage, or YouTube video on our forum every month or so. Your e-mail inbox is jammed with some great stuff, and it only takes a few seconds to copy and paste it to the forum. Don’t worry; you cannot break it, so try it—just copy and paste something. After all, what really keeps people coming back to our website is new and fresh postings, and it is the real reason I began to write my Ramblings—to give you a reason to come back to the website every month and read my words of wisdom and wit. OK, my Ramblings might be short on both wisdom and wit, but they made you come back, didn’t they?
to DanMcCarty70.com. So, why not post a new picture, brag about a grandbaby, or just deliver your own words of wisdom. You should not plan to do this next week; rather, take a stab at it right now. Go to the left navigation bar, under Member Functions, Edit Profile or Upload Photo. The new Notify Me option will notify you when someone changes his or her profile. You can track the updates of a single classmate or the entire class. It’s simple, and it’s easy.
receive a birthday wish from someone you’ve known for more than fifty years, it can really make your day. Just imagine if three or four of us did that.
minutes a month, click on the happy birthday list, and in the words of that great American philosopher Clint Eastwood, go ahead and make their day!
unlocked day and night, and no one seemed to give it a second thought. You never lost your car keys; they always hung right there in the car’s ignition. If you were late for church or had detention, everyone knew it and at least thought they knew why. In fact, where do you go to church was usually a question asked when you met someone new. Not so much to know where they went, but who they were. And around our church, moss hung from the live oaks like the long gray beard of old Southern general providing shade for that most southern of traditions, Sunday dinner on the ground.
if it was easier and quicker for them to do it themselves. That it was not the end of the world if two boys fought after school. That you never sought that fight nor did you run from it. It was assumed that one would lose, and one would win, and everyone knew the only thing used in that fight was your two hands and to stop it was as simple as saying uncle. More important, where I came from, parents, the school, the police, and certainly not a lawyer were ever involved, and somehow, we all seemed to survive. In fact, many times, the two young fisticuffers left as friends. Imagine that.
over our hearts. Our water came from the kitchen tap, and you could not buy a bottle of the stuff if your life depended on it. Because, where I came from, no one would pay for water, not with all those garden hoses lying around.
sheets of my bed. Butt swatting was a regular event where I came from, performed with vigor by my mom, dad, the neighbors, teachers, and any other grownup who caught you misbehaving. No one got angry if a neighbor swatted your butt; it was assumed that the grownup was right, and you were again wrong. My parents thanked them and then made me do the same. Somehow, though, I not only survived all that butt swatting, but also grew up without therapy.
worked… sometimes. Shirts were madras. Shirttails were long. Terry loops seldom stayed attached, and the National Shirt Shop was the only place to shop. There was no “west of town,” unless you wanted to go boar hunting with Jim Huck, and Orange Avenue was “pre-extension.”
Christmas in America will look like in the year 2050. I dare say that our grandkids will not see the same Christmas we grew up loving—one with Nativity scenes, an angel atop the “Christmas” tree, and carolers singing such radical songs as “Come All Ye Faithful” and “O, Little Town of Bethlehem.” I wonder if we as a country, losing the Christmas of our youth may be in some way linked to the type of violence we now find manifesting itself in the most unlikely of places like Sandy Hook.
Relief finally came but, with it, a new form of suffering. A coincidental meeting in the Swiss Alps brought him together with the affluent Appleton family of Boston, which was when he first met and almost immediately fell in love with the Appleton daughter, Frances (Fanny). Fanny Appleton became the great love of Henry’s life, but she did not return his affections for more than seven years. Each of those years, he faithfully added his entries to his Christmas diary.
in the other room, was awakened by their daughter’s screams and attempted to smother the fire using a rug on the parlor floor. He sustained severe burns on his hands, arms, and face. His attempt to save his wife was to no avail, and Fanny died the next day. The wooly beard he grew in his later years was to cover the facial scars.