Some people dream of getting in their car and seeing the country. Jim Janotti is doing it. In fact, as of today, he is in the middle of a two week journey cross country. About a week from now he will return to his Pottstown, Penn., home, where he serves as a minister at a local Methodist church, is a rural mail carrier, and serves as husband to Joy and father to two daughters.

When both Jim and Joy landed new fulltime jobs this year, they knew they wouldn't be able to vacation together this year, so they decided they'd take separate trips.

Jim's a blogger. His Serotonin Rain offers inspiration, insight, family moments and real-world slices, and he has garnered a particularly good following in these parts. He is friends with the Fire Ant Gazette's Eric Siegmund, Archaeotexture's Jeff McDonald and others. You guys may very well know him, too. During the Lenten season leading up to Easter this spring, Jim wrote a devotional blog every day for 40 days called "Lent for Real People." It was the best devotional I've ever read. MyWestTexas.com was lucky to have had his insights.

I sat down for lunch with Jim and Eric and the others Wednesday at Midland's Italian Village as Jim made his way across the country meeting the bloggers he has come to know only through the computer, until now.

Jim would make a fine Texan. Eric, Jeff and I tried to talk him into relocating to West Texas but he apparently didn't bite. You can take the boy out of Pottstown ... you know the rest ...

When he left, Jim would only say that he was headed west and that he had another week to go before he was due home.

I tried, unsuccessfully as it turned out, to get him to spend a few days in Big Bend, but apparently, he was swayed by another blogger in Kansas City, who told him he really ought to visit (insert mystery location here). My money's on the Grand Canyon, but Jim wouldn't give an inch. He did promise, though, to return with Joy for an extended visit to the national park soon.

Why is this all important? I don't suppose it is really, in the whole big picture. But it goes to prove one thing, especially to those folks who think the Internet has depersonalized our relationships (and they do have a point, don't get me wrong). But when people like Jim come through town and you have lunch and talk like you've been friends your whole life, there is a certain shrinking of the global community occurring. If technology helps us build new friendships and introduces us to good and decent people like Jim Janotti, there's good in this whole technology thing.

When we were done with lunch we loaded Jim up with a box of Susie's South Forty candies, a 2007 Texas calendar, a Kinky Friedman Etiquette book and a homemade CD of Texas songs. I still have a problem envisioning this guy from Pennsylvania tooling down the highway headed who knows where singing "Luckenbach." But if you see anyone who fits that description, you'll know it's Jim.

Check out Serotonin Rain blog in the next few days and find out why Midland was lucky to have him as a visitor last week. And find out where he ended up on his mystery destination.

Thoughts on stuff ...


DRUNK WHITE GUY WARNING
I have officially sworn off watching any more golf until they haul away these people who scream IN THE HOLE every time Tiger shoots. Do these people not know how irritating they are?

WHY DO WE NEED THIS?
I certainly understand the necessity for a launch clock at Cape Canaveral to get the Shuttle off the ground. And I know we need countdown clocks in football. I know why we need timers when we are cooking and of course we have to have one on New Year's Eve every year. But can someone please tell me why we need a Meredith Vieira countdown clock? I know she's coming to the Today show. I know when. But I don't need to sit and watch the seconds tick by. It has been hyped more than Katie's big move to CBS. But if you absolutely have to know how long before Meredith is unveiled on 'Today,' MSNBC.com can actually give it to you by the second.

GOT PERK?
Speaking of Katie Couric, apparently not a lot of folks in the Permian Basin caught her big debut on the CBS Evening News Tuesday -- 74 percent of 232 voters said they didn't watch Couric's first newscast. And that's too bad. She's really quite good at what she does. Tatum Hubbard, of local CBS affiliate KOSA thought Couric did well. "I was impressed," Tatum said. "Change is always difficult, but I thought she was strong and trustworthy and I liked the different feel. I felt there was more a mixture of human interest amid hard news." Hubbard said cracking the evening news nut is hard for a woman because the field has been dominated by men since the advent of network news. I never have understood the "perky" tag that follows Katie. Early on, sure, she was a little giggly. But for the majority of her career she has been quite serious with a little flare for mischief maybe. But if you want perky, you can watch Soledad O'Brien, who too often gives the morning news the feel that she's hosting a spa party among close friends. That's perk.

COOL AND GREEN
For anyone who frequents the mountains in New Mexico but maybe hasn't for a while because of the drought ... forget about that. Cloudcroft is at 125 percent of its rainfall total for the year and the Sacramento Mountains are beautiful, lush and green again. Now if we can only get some snow up there this winter and get the ski run owners a little bidness...

THE MASTER IS BACK
I thought what the Rolling Stones were doing, recording into their 60s, was feat enough. But the quality of Bob Dylan's work continues at an amazing clip. His latest CD "Modern Times," is one of the best albums of the year and only furthers his legacy. A must listen ...

WE HAVE WHINED ABOUT EVERYTHING NOW
It's official. We have now complained about all there is to complain about. So-called "feminist activist" Germaine Greer says Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin "exploited" the animals he worked with. Please ... I hardly think the animals he worked with gave much thought to it. I tend to believe the Crocodile Hunter was more into exploiting himself than the animals he was with. Irwin's death is unfortunate ... but this is not a guy who was destined to die of old age, folks.

Good travels to Jay; and a big thanks to sponsors and golfers
Organizers tallied up the total for the Jay Ewing Benefit Golf Tournament last weekend at Hogan Park Golf Course and the returns are impressive. Thirty-five teams entered the tournament -- three more than had been hoped for -- and more than enough funds were raised to send Jay and wife Kelly to Washington, D.C., later this month. Jay, suffering from Lou Gehrig's Disease -- had hoped to go to Washington to see the historical sites while he still was physically able -- and now not only will he get to go, but enough funds were raised to provide for him complete handicapped accessibility while there. Jay and Kelli will be able to rent their own handicapped-accessible van with a driver who will be with them throughout the week. The response of people from West Texas was truly remarkable.

Morris delivers winning performance for Centers
Speaking of West Texas ... We can claim Jim Morris as one of our own, I think. He taught in Big Lake, lived in San Angelo, went to high school in Brownwood. That qualifies him. You may know Morris as Dennis Quaid, the other Texan who played him in the Disney movie "The Rookie."

Jim is all the proof you need to know that a good speaker does not have to be a polished speaker. Jim, a born athlete, will be the first to tell you he's not originally a speaker by profession, but he sure knows how to drive home a memorable long-lasting message. While Jim may not be as seasoned as some of the $100,000 speakers on the circuit, his messages, stories and themes are as good or better than a lot of the higher-dollar earners, I'd be willing to say.

Lighten up and laugh at yourself ... be yourself ... believe in yourself...dream ... and when you reach them, set more goals further beyond your reach. Those messages were left to 500 supporters Thursday night at Midland Country Club where about $100,000 was raised for Centers for Children and Families, one of the most wonderful organizations we are blessed with in West Texas.

Anyone who heard Jim took home a lot of advice worth keeping from the former high school baseball coach turned short-time big leaguer. Jim proved it's not the time spent living your dream, it's the journey and reaching of the dream and he has a message that can benefit most anyone.

Thanks for visiting Midland, Jim.

Most politicians have staff devoted to digging up dirt on opponents in order to get an advantage at the polls. It's one of the more endearing aspects of today's politicians that all Americans can be proud of and wrap our arms around: If our elected representatives can't stand on their own merits, they just point out how much of a creep the other guy is.

My guess is Kinky Friedman isn't paying anyone to look under rocks for grime on his declared opponents in the 2006 Texas governor's race. And Kinky has likewise saved his opponents some time: No need to put anybody on the Kinky beat.

Kinky -- or more likely a record company in Nashville, with Kinky's knowledge -- just released Why the Hell Not ... The Songs Of Kinky Friedman, a 10-song CD by some of Texas best recording artists. While most of the tunes are decent, law-abiding efforts, there are surely a few tunes on the collection that, well, let's say they wouldn't play well at a Rick Perry victory party.

Lyle Lovett, Dwight Yoakum, Asleep at the Wheel, Willie Nelson, Charlie Robison and Delbert McClinton are some of the artists involved in the project, which includes re-recordings of "Get Your Bisquits in the Oven (And Your Buns in the Bed)," "They Ain't Making Jews Like Jesus Anymore" and "Homo Erectus."

Ummmm ... this is not your typical campfire singalong karaoke CD for the whole family.

While many of the songs are heartfelt -- if a bit offbeat -- it is also filled with satirical send ups on women's equality, racism and sex. Many, unfortunately, won't find the humor and satire where it is intended.

"They Ain't Makin' Jews Like Jesus Anymore" reveals the absurdity and hate of racism, albeit in an unusual, only-Kinky-would-do-it-that-way manner. Friedman makes clear in the song he has no tolerance for the ignorance of racism. Roots rocker Todd Snider, who records the raucous version, even makes repeated references to Kinky being the next governor of Texas in the song.

t's an odd way of campaigning, not that that is what he is doing (although the timing is suspect) but Kinky's never been anywhere near status quo.

The media release accompanying the advance of the CD reads, "Kinky's campaign continues to build momentum toward that inevitable day when Texans can proudly proclaim 'Our Governor is Kinky.' Till that happens they can celebrate the satirical, melodious genius of Friedman with the upcoming release of Why the Hell Not ... The Songs of Kinky Friedman. The new album, which hits retail store in September, features some of the biggest names in Texas putting their own spin on Kinky's politically incorrect songs.

It's not exactly a $1,000-a-plate dinner, but it is likely to at least indirectly raise a few dollars -- and some eyebrows to go along with it.

If you were in a high school or college band in the 1970s, you can't help but be a little sentimental at the news today of the death of Maynard Ferguson. Good Lord what a set of chops that man had. He could blow the paint off a hubcap and his prowess at trumpeting was untouched during his time. There is no one like him.

Said Steven Shenkman, his manager, "Gabriel, move over to second trumpet."

And that's all you need to know if you've not heard him or heard of him.

But here's more on one of the most phenomenonally gifted jazzmen the world has ever been blessed to hear.

For 10 years I have been baffled about the attention heaped on the Jon Benet Ramsey murder. And here we are again salivating over news about another family's personal tragedy. I guess I don't understand why the media frenzy over it and the public's ravenous desire to hear about it day after day.

Sure she was a beautiful kid. But most all kids are in some way.

It makes good sense when the media gives us stories of hope and promise that rise from tragedy: Mark Lunsford in Florida attempting to lobby all 50 state legislatures for stronger child protection laws after his daughter Jessica was kidnapped from her bedroom and murdered ... or the Amber Alert, which arose when Amber Hagerman was snatched from her bicycle and killed in Arlington ... or the nationwide efforts to somehow stop child killings in the wake of the tragedies of Adam Walsh and Polly Klaas. To hear about those efforts that arise from terrible misfortune is inspiring and should give us hope that the good people still outnumber the bad.

But to ride a story for so long sending out the salacious, lurid details of murder just for the sake of building audience and readership I find really troubling.

The arrest of a suspect in the Jon Benet Ramsey murder is telling about the American public and its media in a number of ways: it sadly shows us once again how rabid we become over the news of grief and crisis experienced by strangers ... but even more troubling is that it drives home the point that we should never implicate or try someone through casual conversation or God forbid through the media, which is now so common as to be apparently irreversible.

If this man, this John Mark Karr did in fact kill Jon Benet Ramsey (and is not confessing simply to grab a piece of the spotlight as has been suggested today) then what of the Ramsey family? John and Patsy Ramsey were pulled through the muck for years, thanks in no small part to the Boulder police department who did nothing to help salvage their name. Patsy Ramsey is dead of ovarian cancer now and John Ramsey, who insisted from Day 1 that neither he nor his wife were involved in their daughter's murder is, as the media is saying today, "vindicated."

I wonder, how do you live your life for 10 years if the public thinks you played a part in killing your own daughter because the media has convicted you? How do you emerge from a decade-long public hanging for a crime with which you had nothing to do?

If there is good to come out of the arrest of Karr -- and if DNA shows he did kill Ramsey -- I would hope that it would work toward teaching the average American peeping tom who lives for the lurid detail -- that it is wrong to judge others. I would hope that it would lead us to be less intrusive in other people's lives, and teach us that when we sit inches from the TV waiting on the latest piece of damning evidence, it does nothing but make us look foolish for devoting so much of our time to other people's tragedies.

But it probably won't.

Care? Yes. Have compassion? Absolutely. Pray? Most definitely. But to lap up all the dark and sordid details that we are spoonfed and then turn and gossip and convict another, that is simply wrong.

The rain that had built up on the brakes made a slight squeak as the car rolled to a stop in the parking lot. The kid got out and turned to walk away.

He waved once.

Took a few steps. Turned and waved again.

Then took a few more steps. And turned and waved again.

It's become a ritual over the last several years. Three waves. Drive away. Count on it. It's never been a sign of insecurity, but instead more a show of love that two people have for one another. The ritual of the three waves was rarely broken and when it last occurred in May of this year, I figured that would be it. I figured like so many other things kids outgrow, that, too would fade away and cease to exist come fall.

So I was pleased and somewhat comforted when The Boy got out of the car on this his first day of junior high this morning and did the wave thing again.

Wave once, take a few steps, a second wave, a few more steps, wave again, drive off.

It made me grin a little and took me by surprise this morning because it was the last thing I expected. I figure it was purely an elementary thing.

But nothing much rattles The Boy. He is stable and predictable. He lives the kind of life you would want for your pre-teen. He reads. Loves baseball. Plays video games. Loves to eat. Keeps a horrendously messy room. And loves his family. Even his older sister, the Middle Child, who told him over and over and over this morning just how good he looked in his khakis and maroon pull over (she obviously still clearly remembers the horror of the school uniform).

The Boy's old man, on the other hand, is more than likely the one in need of reassurance. Quite ill in the first six months of his life, to the point he very nearly died on two separate occasions in his first four months, we have watched The Boy overcome those illnesses to where they are now only a far away memory, like something from an earlier life. Twelve years later -- almost to the day -- since he was life-flighted to a Lubbock hospital with an infection that was killing him, The Boy walked into the doors of a junior high and I'm left to think ... where did it all go? The time, I mean? Where?

We are the fortunate. We are there to see the last of our children walk through the doors of junior high. So I should -- and will -- soon feel good about the whole transition thing.

But now, I guess I'm like other parents who probably feel the same way I do but aren't likely to write it all down: for the first time in 13 years, we have no kid in elementary school. For the first time, our last child is now closer to graduation than he is to kindergarten.

Junior high. It is almost too much to comprehend.

Karen and I are lucky to have a son who still thinks enough to turn and wave three times before Dad drives away. We are the fortunate ones.

And we are blessed.