Them's Fightin' Words, or Who You Callin' Perky?

Earlier this evening, I participated in a City of Fort Worth Town Hall Meeting, where the topics included the collaboration between the City and the YMCA to build a $5-million facility in our area. Each side is pitching in $2.5 million: the Y from a bank loan and the City from a 2004 bond.

I'm on the board of the local Y and my mission was to lend moral support if disgruntled residents lit their torches, grabbed up their pitchforks and attempted to chase the monster Y director out of the village. Fortunately, the issue quickly turned away from the Y and toward the trustworthiness of the City Council.

But me being me, I felt compelled to defend the Y early on when its value to the community was questioned. After a few hostile misstatements were fired across the bow, I stood and explained that I had lived in Summerfields (the hostile group) from 1990 to 1997 then moved to my current, nearby neighborhood -- Park Glen -- in 1997.

All was going well as I explained my role as a volunteer with the Y and how I'd even raised money to provide scholarships for kids who couldn't afford Y programs. I talked briefly about my daughters and how they've grown up with the Y, and when questioned whether I voted for a YMCA in the bond package, I responded that I voted for the bond package and that I was happy that the City was doubling its investment by collaborating with the Y.

I heard a few minutes ago that I even made the Channel 11 news.

After the meeting adjourned, I was talking with a group of friends near the stage, when I turned to ask our local City Councilman a question about the bond package. The Councilman is in a wheelchair, so when I turned, I was facing a hostile mother who looked at me and said, 'Yes, Mr. Perky-I-live-in-Park-Glen . . . '

I must've looked less-than-perky when I pulled out my six-gun-of-a-finger and -- probably spitting perky all over her -- told her that I'm a cancer survivor and that I love life. I'm not going to apologize for being 'perky.' Before I could get out the words 'bitter old bitch,' her friend grabbed her and dragged her to the door.

She's just lucky that she didn't call me handsome and charming. I would've been all over her like white on rice.

I talked with Lance Griggs, the long-time president of the Summerfields Neighborhood Association, and he explained to me that the 2004 bond program specifically identified a community center in District 4, which is our area. The YMCA/City of Fort Worth facility will be slightly north of the area, out of District 4; and that location has become the real issue behind the protests.

His neighborhood, Summerfields, has become one of the lower-income neighborhoods in our North Fort Worth community; and, unfortunately, many of its residents feel betrayed that the new community center is not located in their neighborhood as they feel was promised in the bond program.

When I asked Lance what he wanted to happen, he said that he'd like to see the City of Fort Worth pay its portion of the YMCA/City of Fort Worth facility with windfall monies from the Barnett Shale (natural gas drilling) and use the $2.5 million in bond money for a community center in District 4.

I just checked the City of Fort Worth's Web site; and after some digging, I found a list of 2004 bond projects, including the allocation of $7.5 million for three community centers that included the Far Northeast Community Center in District 2, which is where our new Y will be located.

I know Lance Griggs to be a caring, trustworthy and concerned citizen, and I'm looking forward to talking with him again, especially to clarify the promised location of the community center.

But just don't let anybody call me 'perky' again!

Black-Eyed Peas and Cabbage

Tradition calls for eating black-eyed peas and cabbage on New Year's Day for good luck throughout the rest of the year. I discovered earlier this evening that when you eat them as leftovers on January 2, then head out the door to the Y to work on your new year's resolution, they laugh at you and heckle, 'yeah, good luck.' Not exactly the breakfast of champions . . . ugh.

One of THOSE fans

I have a friend, Jim, who works part-time at the YMCA. I knew he'd played pro baseball at some point in his life; but when we were talking this evening (that's what I do instead of working out), I discovered that he has a baseball card.

He's now 74 and played in the early 1950s for the Pittsburgh Pirates. At 18, he was the youngest player at the time to pitch for the Pirates. By the age of 20, he was done.

I am so excited. I never knew anyone who has a baseball card. How cool is that? That's just me: 52 going on 12.

One Pound!

Signed up for the Y's Healthy Holiday program the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Maintain or lose weight until after January 1, and you earn a T-shirt. I weighed in a 216 (with shoes . . . in the evening . . . after dinner . . . in sweats -- I usually weigh about 210).

My wife made three pies for Thanksgiving: pecan, chocolate and pumpkin. Have I mentioned that only four of us were here for Thanksgiving? And that I'm the only one who likes pumpkin pie?

No matter how much work I've done since, I can't break 217. AGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!

No wonder I've been doing some serious comfort eating. Who can handle that kind of stress!?