Doubts? Oh, I've Got a Few.

            Anybody who knows me will tell you I am a veritable fountain of ideas but always have a hard time following through. It’s something I have really tried hard to work on over the past few years. So much in fact, that I haven’t even mentioned to anyone I am writing daily as my form of Lent. Frankly, I am worried I’ll stop in about a week or so. (I already missed Fri so I’m trying to make up with three posts today. This is the make up one) But I am really trying to focus and do this. I want to write and discipline is the key. My dozens of short stories, novellas, and graphic novels fighting for my attention on my hard drive are the proof I need to work harder.

            I am working on ideas constantly. It’s looking like we are narrowing it down to getting Luke to do a show out in Fort Worth, something up in YHC, and the tee shirts. I’d  really love to focus here in Savannah but the money just isn’t here. Kim covers dozens of articles weekly in her freelance career regarding fundraisers but they just don’t pull in the type of bucks I’m going to need. Savannah is the epitome of the model for the 1% and I just don’t see that circle helping a teacher/tour-giude  out.

So I got to figure out to get the biggest bang for my buck. One thing I learned from my days as social chairman for my frat was the bigger the net, the larger batch of fishes that come to the party. The American Kidney fund will match me up to twenty thousand dollars so that is my goal. 20 gs. I’d break that down further into the “how many quarters, dimes, and nickels but I suck at math.

Twenty thousand is nearly half my yearly pay and for some reason I honestly have this notion that I’ve got this. It’s comparable to the sword and the stone and I am the young Arthur. It’s overwhelming. It’s daunting and there is absolutely no reason whatsoever that I can do this. Others have attempted to pull the proverbial sword form the stone so why do I think I can raise “Excalibur?” I have no idea except for this:

There are a handful of lessons I’ve learned over the years and the biggest is to listen to my inner voice. It’s that little nudging I’ve cultivated from a whisper to a more conversational tone since my younger years. And you know what? My little voice is saying to me in very calm voice, “Robby, you’ve got this.”

I can assure you there is no swagger in any of this like in my Baby Rich college days. That voice is not arrogant and I’ve come to realize it’s not even mine but it’s that of the Big Guy’s trying to reassure me.

Now let me get this straight before we go any further. I do not honestly believe the voice of my long dead father is speaking to me from the Great Beyond. I am not lucky enough to have my Dad be my own personal Obi Wan Kenobi.

I just feel like when my subconscious wants be to take things seriously, it knows to speak to me I the tone of the Big Guy. It never failed to get my attention in the past so why wouldn’t my brain know to use this to drive point home?

The Big Guy taught me and my sister that in order to be successful, you’ve got to have a plan and that involves preparation. It’s the beginning stages but I am prepping like crazy. This week I am meeting with my social worker with a list of questions in hand. I’ve reached out to Harvey who is my friend from NxStage who has been through all this. Harv is working on a list to let me know everything he wished he knew going into this. Timelines are being formulated for me to start setting and meeting goals to get that kidney. And I have a secret weapon:

Kim.

My personal bias on the abilities of my wife knows no bounds but I also am well aware I am married to not only a professional writer but someone who is an expert in public relations, has a background in fundraising from her army wife days, and next to my sister, is the best person in the world who can keep my off-the-wall ideas in check with some sense of reality in mind.

Then I look a little further among my friends and family and it’s insane at the number of talented and resourceful people I’ve got to be able to beg and borrow from. There’s librarians, DJs, nurses, salespeople, artists, musicians, scientists, comedians, teachers, actors, preachers, camp counselors, computer people, and just a general gaggle of amazing people I’ve gotten to know and become friends with over the years.

So when I have these moments, and trust me, they happen several times daily when I begin to sweat how I’m giving up six months of my life to recover. Six months where I can’t draw a paycheck form teaching. Six months where I won’t be able to drive the back and forth from Savannah to Atlanta for weekly doctor checkups at Piedmont. Thirty-six months where afterwards Medicare will no longer pay for the immunity suppressant meds that cost over a grand a month. A swirl of how will I pay for this? How can I support my family? How can keep from being a burden on Kim?

“Stop.” I hear myself say firmly inside of my head. “Take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out.”

An overwhelming feeling of peace washes over me and it’s as if I feel that giant hand slowly grasp my shoulder which recognize since childhood and I hear it.

“You’ve got this.”

Damn straight I do. Let’s get a kidney. Who’s with me?  

A Teachable Moment.....

3/2/2017

            It has now been officially one week since I was told I would be listed. It’s been nice. I honestly do not have the right word to describe it. Ok, maybe overwhelming. But still nice. I’ve noticed that every night when I sit down ot stick myself, I find myself wondering how many more times will this be now that I know this will a process with a finite number. Somehow that makes the sting seem a little easier.

            Had a funny moment in class yesterday during my Am Lit. Voshawn came up and asked how I was feeling.

            “I’m fine, Thank you for asking but where is this coming from. Very out of the blue.” I responded.

            Oh, well, Voshawn stumbling over his words in a very surprised manner. ”I thought you got a kidney over the weekend. I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

            Aww, man, thanks, I smiled and I said to him. “That is really cool you’d ask but it doesn’t quite work like that. I then proceeded to explain the process in a very quick manner which would keep a 17 yr old’s attention.

A couple of other kids began to listen because it was getting them out of doing vocabulary work. Suddenly the back part of the classroom became an infomercial on Kidney transplant. Not on the lesson plans but I guess we’re ok.

I don’t blame them for the questions and it has never bothered me. Frankly, I keep wondering if there is some way to tie in informing folks on this in a non-preachy, boring manner and where I could profit form writing. I guess that is one of the reasons I’ve started writing daily about all this. Maybe this will be my rough draft for something good.

#Fingers crossed

Azaleas

            When it comes to naming a favorite season, I tend go impartial. I love parts of all of them. As spring begins to erupt down here in Savannah with a vengeance’s, folks are complaining about the pollen. I get it. Pollen bugs me but I can deal with a little of that flowery spunk because it means my favorite part of spring is coming. The azaleas

            It all began with my grandfather. Pop planted those azalea bushes all over the property and when you’d drive up through the driveway, you were surrounded in an explosion of reds, whites, and my favorite, the pink azalea. I always associated azaleas with my grandfather and Easter because this would be about the time we’d rive down from the mountains to visit.

            On my first date with Kim, we went out to Bonaventure and the azaleas were literally popping with color. We drove around talking and getting to know each other. It was the second time we were speaking face to face but because I was by the Salt River and all the azaleas, I felt right at home. It was a date I never wanted to end and so far it’s still going.

            There are several white and pink bushes over at my school where I teach and I daily making my trek across campus and purposely walk outside so I can be surrounded by them. Azaleas and live oaks are not something most teachers can boast about on their campus and I consider myself quite lucky.

            When were house shopping, I knew I wanted certain things in my yard. I had to have live oaks, palm trees and a few cedars. When I walked into the backyard of what would shortly become the Manor, I knew I hit the jackpot especially when I saw an entire side of the yard was just holly bushes and azaleas.

            I spend much of my time at home staring out my bedroom window into the backyard. It’s not very big but it has a taste of everything I believe represents what Savannah is to me. If you drop by Stately Rich Manor, you’ll probably find me on the back porch with radio playing and just relaxing while I survey my surroundings. I’m a lucky man.

A modern-day, folk hero to a generation of kids inspired by his genuine love for comics, and the interwoven connectedness brought about by his appreciation for authenticity, and manifested in respect shown to all people, from all walks of life. Kudos, Sir! Enjoy your day, and may your next 'revolution' be one for the ages!

Birthday wishes from Woody Hemphill.

Just wanted to keep a copy of this somewhere. One of the nicest things anyone has very said about me. 

In Which Adam Sandler and David Spade Spend the Day with Robby Richardson

                       This is Adam and David.                                                             This is Me                                           

And this is the story of how we met up one fateful day last summer while Sandler and Spade were in town filming a little movie for Netflix called The Do-Over.

Now I am a huge fan of these guys. I spent many late weekend nights watching their antics on Saturday Night Live and I still watch their movies when they come out. When I had the opportunity to be an extra, I was all over it. 

Rose Locke Casting pretty much ran an ad in the paper which my lovely wife and hard boiled newspaper reporter sent my way back before school was out and I replied via e-mail with some basic info and my head shot.

I also to had to choose from a series of scenes being filmed. I opted for the High School reunion but also had the choice for Biker Bar extra but seriously pondered Naked Cadaver which paid double and seemed pretty easy work. For some odd reason both of my children begged me not to. It would be the Duchess who finally hit home with reminding me of what could happen if one of my students came across this and the embarrassing magic of photo-shop. Reunion it was !

How could they not love this jacket?

Armed with a cup of coffee and my wardrobe choices, I pulled into the convention center parking a little before six. Extras were checked for wardrobe, some got make up and touch ups on hair. I had to bring two suits for the crew to pick for as "my look." Oddly enough, they did not go with the burgundy tux jacket with 70s crushed velvet lapels.

We were then marched into two groups in one of the Westin Ball rooms where we were told a bit about the scene we were going to be  "a part of." We were all going Central High Class of '91 party-goers where Sandler and Spade would met back up after many years.

As party-goers we were divided into several groups of 12 then placed strategically around the room. I had joined one of the "Dance Floor "people so I had a great chance of being on camera. I had pulled into the Savannah Convention Center parking lot at 6am. I saw my first camera right around 11am.

Because of my height, I got pulled into a camera which would be directly in the line of fire. Yes!!!! I was thrilled. I also did not take into consideration that meant I'd be dancing for the next 10 hours.

The hardest thing I've learned after being on a movie set is how nothing is organic nor accidental. While it looks like people spontaneously burst into acts of singing and dancing, it's actually the product of several hours of rehearsal, moving the camera, moving the camera to different angles, moving the actors around, moving the extras around, and hearing the same damn song over and over and over and over and over and over.

Do you like this song? I do not. I find Marky Mark neither funky nor bunchy. But I was supposed to be an actor so far be it from me not to commit to the role. I can play a 40-something guy party it up at his high school reunion whooping it up. Nailed it.

Now for the question everyone wants to know. Did I see/meet Sandler or Spade? I did sort of. Shortly before lunch when everyone was starting to fizzle, Sandler came out and spoke to the crowd. He came off very laid back, almost shy. He thanked everyone for being a part of the movie and seemed

more excited to introduce the actor playing the DJ to the crowd than talk about himself. The DJ turns out to be be his nephew who, and I quote,"got all the good looks in the Sandler family"


While standing in line to go to lunch, Adam Sandler was sitting on a couch right by us. I took the opportunity to say hello and asked him how he liked Savannah. He was really cool and told us he dug Savannah but the heat was killing him. Picking up that he was busy, I left him alone and went off to lunch.

David Spade was also around the set quite but seemed to stick to himself. I never got the opportunity to say anything because he spent much of time chatting with the director, Steven Brill, or looking over his lines. He came off a little aloof  but not rude in the least.

I think that was the other thing I took away from my day on the movie set. Watching all those old Burt Reynold's movies back in the day always ended with a gag reel over the credits. It left a impression on me that working on a movie set had to be a blast and a laugh a minute. While no one was a Debbie Downer, I was struck by the seriousness and professionalism given by the actors and the crew. Everyone was beyond friendly and courteous but it was also understood time was money and there was a job to done.

While there were plenty of moments that made everyone chuckle especially when Sean Astin was in the room, it was never anything like this:

Shuffling back to my car a little before nine that evening, I had to change out my my black suit coat and khakis because i was drenched in sweat from he multiple takes of dancing to "Rude Vibrations" as our group began to refer to it. Sitting in my little Kia with the AC running was one of the most exquisite moments I think I had that summer next discovering Fireball whiskey and skinny dipping in our pool.

I peeled off my Reunion name tag and stuck on a place of honor in the car. All we had to do now was to wait and see if I'd get my big Hollywood moment.

Kim and I scoured the first few Do Over trailers as they dropped in spring. We literally went frame by frame to see but I never made it. Frankly, I had kind of forgotten about it.

It was a late Friday night in May and I was about to crash. Doing a quick Facebook check, an old college buddy asked me if I had seen The Do-Over yet because it had just premiered. It was late but when I mentioned it Kim there was "no way we were waiting until the morning,"


Sure enough, around 40 seconds in, I can be seen in the second row dancing and chanting my little heart out. One more item to be scratched off my bucket list. Mr. Richardson has now been in an actual  big time Hollywood movie.

About my SAG card.....

It was pretty cool experience. In many ways it was a long and grueling one but at the same time, it was one of those experiences that as the time went on, the work part seemed to lapse into all the cool stories to be shared. And I now have more than a few to share. I barely scratched the surface in this post.

Oh, and I got an awesome name tag.......

Photo Bomb Tuesday Part II Johnny Harris Restarant pics

Something was nagging at me while digging up pics and organizing my own for the previous Johnny Harris Blog. After hit "publish", I later realized that I had these little beauties that I had scanned from the Georgia Historical Society several years back.

It's  a menu from the Maple Room in Johnny Harris. I am not sure of the year it comes from but if I had to guess it falls long before Don Draper was working in advertising..... 

Is there still such a thing as coat check? 

30 cents for an Old Fashioned? I'll take a dozen.

Obviously it's the prices that will catch you eye but take a second and look at the cocktails offered. It just goes to show you how the collective palate will change over time. I'd love to see Starbucks come out with a Absinthe Frappe......

I can't remember if this is part of the same Johnny Harris Restaurant menu.

 It's been a few years and I didn't catalog like I normally do with pics. 

Regardless, 60 cents is still too much for a bowl of Cream of Asparagus. 

Photo Bomb Tuesday! In Which I Discover I am Not as Smart I as I Think I am Sometimes....

Being an almost middle class kid back in the 70s coupled with being raised by Baby Boomers who in turn were raised by Depression survivors, I never ate out very much until I was able to drive on my own. Fortunately my parents and grandparents all had mad skills revolving around a kitchen stove, grill, and a pot on a certain outside Coleman stove filled with fresh caught shrimps and crabs so I did not suffer.

Except regarding BBQ sauce. See both my grandparents and the Big Guy were absolute loyalists when it came to certain brands. My Pop swore by his hidden bottle of Crown Royal. My Grandma refused to budge on anything but Karo syrup in her pecan pies. My mother insisted on Donald Duck brand orange juice (though in all honesty I later discovered that was more of a budget thing). My Pop and the Big Guy became a dynamic tag-team grilling duo that the only real BBQ sauce was Johnny Harris Restaurant's in house made sauce.

Ignorance is bliss and for many years, I had no clue whether BBQ sauce varied in flavors from the tangy like I was used to with Johnny Harris to the dripping with sweetness Honey BBQ sauce that Heinz would offer and I got sample for the first time and my Aunt Kay and Uncle Jim's cookouts,

My father would just look at me as I would gobble down pulled pork soaked in Heinz Honey sauce like I was a cretin. As awesome as the Big Guy was, there were just some things you did not do in our home and go against the grain was one of them. In my defense, I had an unrefined palate powered by a subliminal effort to inject as much sugar in my bloodstream but then name one 7 year old who doesn't.

As a result,I have never been much of a fan of eating at Johnny Harris's Restaurant.

Before you say it, I know. I know. How can you be this die-hard Savannah Guy and not heap praise on this local landmark? Since my return to the promised land back in 2007, I have eaten there a few times. Each time I enter, I am enthralled by the dark polished wood, the ingrained smoke scents, and of course the ballroom. At 92 years old, the place literally sweats history.

Shall we dance?

Unfortunately, I never dug the sauce and until recently had not been in to eating BBQ which thankfully, I've recovered from that last bit.

Last Saturday morning, I had to make a quick run downtown to pick up some dialysis supplies and while driving up Victory, I spotted this. Earlier in the week, Lyndy Brannen on Quality Rock 105.3 had broadcasted on the air about dropping by to grab a lamb sandwich and a slice of coconut pie. Two items I had not tried and was intrigued. As I drove by around 11ish,  I realized it was the 28th and my last chance ever to try what  many locals refer to as a Savannah staple.


Even at 11 o'clock , the line was already out to the street but we all waited patiently for the next thirty minutes and got to chat with many of the people in line near me. Most of them were much older and had great stories about dining here after high school football games, wedding receptions, and one elderly couple even had their first date here. All the news crews were out in full force. WSAV did  pretty good report. See if you can catch a certain local storyteller wannabe who had no idea he was caught on camera until he previewed the clips. Click here.

Over the past nine years, I've probably been in JHR around a half dozen times. Every time, I try sit in the main dining room just for the ambiance and I always think the same thing. "How often did Grandma and Pop come in here and did the ever dance in the ballroom?"
The dome like ceiling makes the acoustics perfect which was why the Savannah Songwriters would perform here all the time. Plus the ceiling had tiny white lights to give the illusion of stars at night, Unfortunately, I was using my cell phone and could never quite capture the shot just right nor could I find any on the net. Sorry.

This is my booth. Every time I've come in to grab a bite, I always feel like I'm walking back into the 40s and need an Old Fashioned in my hand along with my best girl at my side and a mystery to solve. It's a shame there are not more places like this here in Savannah where it still feels the same as it did fifty-sixty years ago.


















My server handed me a special menu for the last day proclaiming, "The Final Transmission." Younger Robby would have figured a way to smuggle this menu out of JHR. Older, Present Day Robby was in too much of  a Carb Coma to make an attempt.

Do not push the shiny candy like red button, Stimpy.....

This is another item here at JHR which always enthralls me. Each booth in the main dining room has these buzzers which actually work. You use them to call over the waiter. Until May 28th, I 've never pushed one but fortunately my Brunswick Stew needed some Tabasco sooooo.......

So I ordered the lamb sandwich after a bowl of Brunswick Stew. At first, I almost just opted to do the lamb platter because the description for the sandwich read, " sliced leg of lamb served on toast with our original BBQ sauce."

The Savannah Foodie in me began to scream how could a sandwich be any good on plain toasted white bread and also that sauce? Fortunately something told my snobbish foodie shelf to take a long walk off a short dock and give it a go.

Man, I am so glad that I did because that lamb sandwich was outstanding. It was so tasty, I had eaten most of it before I I realized I had forgotten to take a picture.

And the sauce? Call it being caught up in the moment of saying goodbye to a Savannah landmark. Call it growing up and learning to let my palate enjoy different flavors even if they were so simply combined, but I loved. JHR sauce will never necessarily be my fave (that slot is allotted to B's Cracklin' BBQ ) but I am buying a bottle the next time I hit Kroger.


As I walked out roughly an hour later, I felt a little sad. Because of a childhood prejudice towards BBQ sauce, I had let the opportunity to enjoy something people much smarter than myself have been raving about for decades. Sadly, I found that one menu item that would have brought me back again and again on the very last day. #RobbyOutsmartsHimselfAgain. Oh well, live and learn.

This meal much like the Big Guy, also put me in my place. It's interesting that in a time where I pat myself on the back for having such a refined palate because I enjoy items like the pavlova at Savannah Coffee Roasters or the spicy black beans at Tortuga's Island Grille that a simply made smoked meat sandwich on toasted white bread that would stick out like it did. It's lesson to remember in which good food does not always have to be fancy food.

Oh, and JHR did serve a mean slice of coconut pie. I did manage to get a shot of that before attacking my dessert.

Don't mind if I do!!!!!