Go see this movie

My wife will testify to this: I don't cry at movies. (Maybe "Brian's Song," but hey, I was 10.)

Sunday night we went to see "Once." I misted up about a third of the way in. By the end, we both had to just sit there for a few minutes before we could breathe. And I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

I've seen movies that were more polished, better-acted, probably even movies with better music. But I can't remember another movie that hit me this hard.

The plot is simple. An Irish street musician acquires a fan -- a Czech immigrant girl. It turns out she's a musician too. They play together and discover a connection that goes beyond words -- and beyond their complicated personal lives.

It's a musical, but not in any traditional way. The characters don't suddenly, artificially break into song; they're musicians, so the songs rise naturally out of whatever they're doing at the moment. The lead actors (Glen Hansard of Irish band the Frames, and Czech singer Marketa Irglova) wrote and sing the songs.

And the past two paragraphs don't even come close to describing how powerful this movie is.

To me there's no stronger artistic force in the universe than a great three-minute song. "Once" is full of them, and as they unfold in the movie -- as you get to know the characters and root for them -- every chord change matters.

It's rated R, which blows my mind. The characters know and love the F-word, but I promise you, there is nothing else in the movie that's offensive in any way. The lessons from the movie are so rich that, if I were a parent, I'd take my teenager in a heartbeat.

At work today, those of us who've seen it have formed a little cult. "And then the scene at the music store..." "And then the scene with his dad..."

Now that I've read all this I realize it sounds like a mushy love letter. Sorry about that. But after "Once" was over I went home, read about it online and downloaded the soundtrack. It's on my iPod right now. I can't recommend the movie highly enough.

Go see for yourself. Then come back here and tell me what you thought.

In the meantime, here's a YouTube of the two leads playing a song from the movie at the Sundance Film Festival.

Disappearing Charlotte icons

This month marks 18 years since I started at the Observer. (I was 7 when they hired me. Labor laws were different then.)

I was thinking the other day about how many Charlotte icons from back then have already disappeared. Charlotte has always been Churn City -- we do more reinventing than a plastic surgeon -- but when I started writing things down, I was amazed how much has vanished in less than two decades.

I'm not even talking about the big stuff, like the Coliseum or the PTL Club. I'm just thinking about little touchstones that meant something to me for one reason or another.

Here's a quick list:

10. The Bootery and Bloomery

When I got to Charlotte, if you headed out of uptown on Independence Boulevard, you came to a hard left just past the John Belk Freeway. Right in front of you as you made the turn were two stores -- a Krispy Kreme and the Bootery and Bloomery.

Krispy Kreme you know about. The Bootery and Bloomery had display windows that featured lots of lingerie and fishnet stockings. Let me tell you, there were no stores like that where I grew up. At one time they apparently had live models in the display windows. I always wondered how many teenage boys wrecked their cars in that spot.

9. The Scoreboard

This was a giant sports bar further out Independence, almost to Matthews. It's been about eight different things since the Scoreboard closed. When it opened, it was the first sports bar I'd ever been to with little speakers at every table that you could tune to whatever game was on. Plus the seats at the bar swiveled so you could check on five or six games at once. It was like I had ordered the place direct from heaven.

I was with a group of buddies at the Scoreboard in 1992 for Duke-Kentucky, the greatest college basketball game ever played. I didn't have a dog in the hunt -- I went to Georgia -- so I decided to root for Kentucky, my fellow Southeastern Conference school. A Duke guy across the bar picked up on this and started talking trash my way. Actually, he was talking trash everybody's way. It's possible, based on Duke's demographic statistics, that he might have been from New Jersey.

With 7.8 seconds left, Christian Laettner made two free throws to put Duke up 102-101. The Duke guy jumped up in his seat, screamed for joy and flipped me a bird. But then a Kentucky player made an absurd running bank shot with 2.1 seconds left to put Kentucky up 103-102.

Duke called a timeout. Duke Guy was distraught beyond words. He silently got up and left the bar.

HE LEFT THE BAR.

You probably know what happened next: Laettner caught a full-court pass from Grant Hill, took a quick dribble, and drained a fallaway at the buzzer to win the game for Duke.

I think I would have given the contents of my checking account at the time ($27.63) to see the look on that guy's face when he heard the screams from inside the bar.

8. Hello Henry

Henry Boggan was the evening talk-show host on WBT radio from 1979 to 1996. He was moderate, folksy and kind. He listened more than he talked. He would have absolutely no shot at a job in radio today.

7. Random wrestler encounters

As Tom Sorensen wrote Tuesday, Charlotte used to be a pro wrestling town. Some wrestlers still live here -- led by Ric Flair, of course -- but you used to see them everywhere.

One day in Rock Hill I was getting gas, a blue Cadillac pulled up to the next pump, and Ivan Koloff got out. I stalled a little when it came time to pay so I could walk in behind him. I craned my neck the best I could, but I never could see if IVAN KOLOFF was stamped on his MasterCard.

Once he was the most evil of all the evil Russian wrestlers.

These days, Ivan does weddings.

6. Newsstand International

OK, this is getting long so I'll pick up the pace. Newsstand International used to be the only place in town you could get out-of-town papers and obscure magazines (I mean in the non-pornographic way, but if I remember right they could help you out there too.) The first place I found it was in a shopping center tucked into an apartment complex off Providence Road. Then it was on Independence for awhile, then it moved to East Morehead, then it closed. Too many Barnes & Nobles.

5. Andersons

We wrote 372 stories on Andersons when it closed last year, so I won't linger on it, except for two things:

-- I met Peter Gorman for breakfast there after he had been in town a month, and the waitress already knew what to bring him.

-- A Starbucks is going in there. Then again, a Starbucks is going in everywhere.

4. The Shrine Bowl

This is a high-school all-star game, North Carolina vs. South Carolina. For years they played it at Memorial Stadium next to Central Piedmont Community College. The Carolinas always have a few major-college prospects, so going to the Shrine Bowl was always a fun way to blow a Saturday.

In the early '90s I saw a Spartanburg High running back named Steve Davis fly past N.C. tacklers. Years later, as Stephen Davis, he starred for the Carolina Panthers.

They still play the Shrine Bowl but now it's in... Spartanburg. Steve Davis must have REALLY impressed the Shriners.

3. Repo Records

Not only was this the coolest record store in town, not only did it have the weirdest cashiers, not only was it the place where I first heard Southern Culture on the Skids, but it was also the place where I sold some used cassettes for gas money before I got my first Observer paycheck. So I'll always be grateful.

2. Kenny Gattison

I know it's hard to believe, with all the yawning empty seats at Bobcats games, but Charlotte was absolutely insane about the Charlotte Hornets. Lots of people loved Larry Johnson, Alonzo Mourning and Muggsy Bogues. I loved Kenny Gattison.

In his NBA career (including six years with the Hornets) he averaged 8 points, 5 rebounds, 3 personal fouls and approximately 19 scattered bodies a game. It seemed like every time he went up for a rebound, the opposing forward went down to the floor. Which explains all those personal fouls.

He was not blessed with a lot of natural gifts, but he worked and hustled and bulldozed his way to success. Which is pretty much the way I think of Charlotte.

1. The Pterodactyl Club

I went there all the time when I first got to town. Some of those nights I don't remember. Some I didn't recall even as they were happening. The Pterodactyl was over at Morehead and Freedom Drive, and there were always sketchy characters in the parking lot, and since this is meant to be a tribute, we won't talk about the bathrooms.

But it had lots of room and cold beer and great bands. I saw They Might Be Giants in there one night and it changed my life.

Geeks like me, dancing.

OK. This was a long list. I'm whipped. What Charlotte icons do YOU miss?

Back at the paragraph factory

So how y'all been?

I'm back at work today after taking a few weeks off to relax, visit family and friends, do some quality porch-sitting with Fred the hound dog, that sort of thing. I also spent a few days in Memphis, checking out the great Stax Museum and playing cards with the brilliant sportswriter Joe Posnanski, who... well, let him tell it. And buy his book.

Toward the end of the vacation I got a little antsy and spent a couple hours redesigning the blog. You should have seen it -- cool green palette, funky fonts, the whole deal.

It turns out this was a very bad idea.

Along the way I erased some of the code that our Web staff uses to count visitors, display the Charlotte.com logo, send you spam from Nigeria, etc. It is also possible, this being the Internets, that I might have unintentionally launched a nuclear missile. Sorry, tech folks, and sorry, North Korea.

I did keep a new photo and blogroll and such. Of course, now that I've done all this work on how the site looks, I guess I should actually POST now and then.

So to get things started, a few links that I browsed while on vacation:

-- This guy does astonishing things with an Etch-a-Sketch.

-- This guy is my favorite author in the world right now, and his latest book kept me up until 2 in the morning last week.

-- This guy knows the (unfortunately) true secrets of a lot of journalism these days.

-- And these guys just put out a really good record. Go buy it. (And they're playing Ovens on Wednesday!)

One more thing: I'm still looking for folks who were students or teachers in Charlotte when Dorothy Counts and other black students integrated the schools here in 1957. Give me a holler at 704-358-5227 or ttomlinson@charlotteobserver.com.

So what's on your mind these days? Comment below. It's good to be back.

Where were you in '57?

OK, a lot of you weren't around in 1957 -- I wasn't either -- but if you were in Charlotte back then, I'd like to talk to you for a story I'm working on. Specifically, I'm trying to find people who were in the school system when Dorothy Counts and other black students integrated Charlotte schools.

If you were a student or worked for the school system, I'd like to hear from you. If you were on the scene the day that Dorothy first came to Harding High, I'd REALLY like to hear from you.

I'm taking some time off and will be out of the office for a few weeks. But if you pop me an e-mail at ttomlinson@charlotteobserver.com, I'll be sure to see it. Or just leave a message at 704-358-5227 and I'll be in touch.

And feel free to add your memories in the comments.

Keyshawn, half off

Noticed this, via the DC Sports Bog: you can get a Keyshawn Johnson Panthers' jersey for pretty much half-price.

Which makes sense, because the Panthers bought their own discount version of Keyshawn in the draft.

That leads me to wonder: What else would you take the plunge on if the price was right? Would you buy Bobcats tickets if good seats were $30? Would you try the porterhouse at Morton's for $9.95? Would you support light rail if it cost only $300 million?

How much would you pay? And for what? Add your eBay fantasies below.

Imus: crazy like a fox?

Let's play pretend for a minute.

Pretend you're a 66-year-old shock jock whose ratings have tanked in the past couple of years, who is ranked as only the 14th-most-important radio talker, and who hasn't generated any national buzz in, well, forever.

Pretend that your zeppelin-sized ego can't take not being noticed.

Pretend you're so rich that getting suspended for a couple of weeks won't put a dent in your bank account.

Wouldn't you think it might be savvy to spout off something racist and stupid, hoping you would start a national firestorm, get your name back in the news, and have millions of listeners tuning in to see what fool thing you might say next?

Let's put it this way: Two weeks ago, were you even sure Don Imus was still alive?

We're all sure now.

I'm not saying he thought all this out in advance. I'm just saying he's not exactly broken up at how it's turning out.

So what do YOU think would be the proper punishment? If any? Let your imagination run wild below.

A day at the opera

On Saturday we went all highbrow and took in the live broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera at the Regal Stonecrest movie theater. That day's offering was "The Barber of Seville," which was perfect for me -- I already knew the music from one of the greatest short films in history.

As a guy who watches way too much sports (especially during the NCAA tournament), I could not recommend the opera more highly. It's ESPN Classic with violins.

The opera itself is the musical version of the NBA slam dunk contest. One insanely talented star takes a solo, then there's some shuffling around, then another insanely talented star tries to top it. The plot is just there to mark time between the solos. I kept expecting the screen to show judges' scores after every aria -- "Well, the soprano gets a 9.5 for expression, but only an 8 for technical skill..."

They even do the intermission like a halftime show -- previews of upcoming shows, backstage interviews with the stars. (The opera is set in Spain, sung in Italian, and the guy who played Figaro was from Sweden. It's a small world.)

But my main overall impression was this: Outsized characters, big conflicts, tight-fitting costumes and lots of yelling.

Now it all makes sense.

Opera is the high-class version of professional wrestling.

Too bad Ric Flair can't sing. Then again, I doubt Pavarotti could get out of the figure-four leglock.

One last thing: I counted at least seven times when cell phones went off in the theater. If we'd actually been at the Met, I suspect ushers would have calmly removed the offenders from the audience and quietly thrown them down the back stairs.

But can that many people be that forgetful? And if you're not a doctor, or if your daughter is not on a date at that very moment with a member of a biker gang, is there any reason to keep your cell phone on in the theater? I had no idea there were so many important people in this town.

A thought on John Edwards

John and Elizabeth Edwards are the most fascinating couple in politics, even more than Bill and Hillary.

John has all the current qualifications to be president -- good hair and charisma and XY chromosomes. That doesn't mean he's not a sharp guy. He is. But every time I see them together, Elizabeth comes off as smarter and funnier and more genuine.

In a better world, we'd be sad about Elizabeth Edwards' cancer because we might be losing a great candidate for president.

If I were a James Carville type, I might've told John to suspend the campaign -- partly to be with his wife, partly because he would get a HUGE wave of sympathy. Then he could ride that goodwill back into the race next summer. Campaigns start way too early anyway. Voters are tired of everybody by the end. A fresh face coming in late might steal the whole thing.

I'm sure John Edwards' campaign people at least thought about that. So in some ways, continuing the campaign seems more real to me, less calculated.

I know that sounds weird.

Politics are weird.

I guess the real question is this: what would John Edwards have done if this was 20 years ago, and he was just an ambitious young lawyer?

Are all your decisions different if you're running for president?

"It's the most wonderful time of the year..."

Thursday and Friday. The first round of the NCAA basketball tournament. The two best sports days of the year.

Not only that, it's 80 degrees outside. OK, I'm making the call, these are the two best DAYS of the year. Christmas and Thanksgiving have always been seeded too high.

I have three rules for brackets:

1. One bracket only. I hate to check the standings in a (non-gambling, for amusement purposes only) NCAA pool and find out I'm behind Joe Shmoe #5. Either you believe in your picks or you don't. Only weenies minimize their risk. This is not a mutual fund.

2. Pick some upsets. If you don't have at least three crazy picks in your Sweet 16, you're the type of person who reads the end of the book first.

3. Swoon for the hometown underdog. It's OK if it's the town you USED to be from -- just as long as it's a team that has no right to win the games you're giving them. As Calvin Trillin once said, if you don't think your hometown hamburger joint is the best in the world, you're a sissy.

On to the picks.

First round:
UNC over E. Kentucky, Michigan State over Marquette, Arkansas over USC, Texas over New Mexico St., Vanderbilt over George Washington, Oral Roberts over Washington State, Boston College over Texas Tech, Georgetown over Belmont.

Ohio State over Central Connecticut, Xavier over BYU, Long Beach St. over Tennessee, Virginia over Albany, Louisville over Stanford, Texas A&M over Penn, Nevada over Creighton, Memphis over North Texas.

Kansas over Niagra, Villanova over Kentucky, Virginia Tech over Illinois, S. Illinois over Holy Cross, Duke over VCU, Pitt over Wright State, Gonzaga over Indiana, UCLA over Weber St.

Florida over Jackson St., Arizona over Purdue, Butler over Old Dominion, Davidson over Maryland (homer pick #1), Winthrop over Notre Dame (homer pick #2), Oregon over Miami of Ohio, Georgia Tech over UNLV, Wisconsin over A&M-Corpus Christi.

Second round:
UNC over Michigan State, Texas over Arkansas, Vandy over Oral Roberts, Georgetown over BC.

Ohio State over Xavier, Long Beach State over Virginia, Texas A&M over Louisville, Nevada over Memphis.

Kansas over Villanova, VA Tech over S. Illinois, Pitt over Duke, UCLA over Gonzaga.

Florida over Arizona, Butler over Davidson, Winthrop over Oregon (I know, SUCH a homer), Wisconsin over GA Tech.

(That's two crazy picks -- Winthrop and Long Beach -- and two semi-crazy picks -- Vandy and Nevada -- in the Sweet 16.)

Sweet 16: UNC over Texas (best game of the tournament), Georgetown over Vandy, Ohio State over Long Beach, Texas A&M over Nevada.

Kansas over VA Tech, UCLA over Pitt, Florida over Butler, Wisconsin over Winthrop in double OT.

Elite Eight: UNC over Georgetown, Texas A&M over Ohio State, Kansas over UCLA, Florida over Wisconsin.

Final Four: Texas A&M over UNC (sorry, Heels), Kansas over Florida.

Title game: Kansas over A&M, 76-68.

Feel free to ridicule.

Your craziest airport story?

It's important, in journalism, to make your biases clear when you're doing a story. So in the interest of full disclosure: I hate flying.

I'm not scared of flying. I just hate everything about the experience: riding the shuttle bus, undressing at the security checkpoint, waiting at the gate, squeezing into the seats, getting that pressurized-air headache, bobbing through turbulence, sprinting to make the connection, dragging my weary butt through the concourse on the way to the rental car.

My wife and I flew last week, out to Kansas City and back. Everything went fine. If the trip had been a few days later, and we had ended up waiting five freaking hours at the kiosk, it's possible I would be on the 10 Most Wanted list by now.

Two things I noticed on the trip:

-- The sports bar in the A concourse at the Charlotte airport has six clocks out front, showing the time in different time zones. As of last Wednesday, five of the six clocks were wrong.

-- There's a display in the Kansas City airport showing items you can't bring on the plane. One of the items is a chain saw. Now, I know some people don't keep up with the latest federal regulations, but is there somebody out there who needs to be told it's not OK to bring a CHAIN SAW on the plane?

I'm trying to imagine some guy at the ticket counter, calling back home: "You won't believe this, Myrtle. They won't let me bring the dang Poulan on board. It's like we're not in America anymore."

So what's your most infuriating airport story? Vent away below.

The Friday Five

Five things that made life a little better this week:

1. "Sex Devil" by Jack Pendarvis. The funniest short story I've read in years (despite the title, it's PG-rated). Plus this version comes with hidden tracks! (Don't click on them until you've read the whole story.)

2. This story about an unfortunate turtle from the St. Petersburg Times. The only thing this week that made me laugh more than "Sex Devil."

3. This story from the New Yorker about the creators of "24" and how some military interrogators seem to think it's a reality show. My wife and I are both hooked on "24" -- it's the only show we both love -- but we almost gave it up a couple weeks ago when one of the bad guys tortured a good guy (poor Morris) with a power drill. Supposedly they're tapering off on the torture scenes for the rest of the season. They better.

4. A shameless plug: My buddy Joe Posnanski (who grew up here and went to UNCC) has written a wonderful book, "The Soul of Baseball," an account of his travels with Negro Leaguer Buck O' Neil. It comes out on Tuesday but you can order online now. Trust me, it's great.

5. The wonder that is the Morristache. Bow down in awe. And there's a T-shirt!

Dove season

This is our new pet, although we didn't adopt her -- she (we're assuming it's a she) adopted us. She set up shop last week on top of one of the corner posts on our front porch. It's not a big perch and she's jammed in there a little bit -- that's her tail sticking up there in the corner.

I believe this is your basic mourning dove -- we've been hearing that distinctive HOO, hoo-hoo, hoo call every morning. The nest is about 10 feet from our front door, and nothing seems to rattle her -- she watches us, the dog, and passers-by with the same placid expression. (Although she did blink a couple of times when I took this picture.)

So any tips on what we should expect here? Anything we should do? How long before we see a baby dove or two?

The one thing I'm noticing as I look at this photo is how smooth her head is. I think we're gonna call her Britney.

The Friday Five

Five things that made life more interesting this week:

1. Web 2.0 in less than five minutes. This is like watching one of those evolution-of-man videos -- fascinating and a little scary. Plus it's a good reminder of how fast technology is moving. Five years from now, this'll probably be a relic.

2. UNC beats Duke. I've got no dog in this fight so I just root for a great game, and this one delivered. Now that football's over it's time to start developing a sports crush on some teams and players in preparation for March Madness. Right now my favorite is the Tar Heels' Ty Lawson. At the end of the game, he was the best player on the floor.

3. Van Morrison does "Comfortably Numb." This is apparently from a Pink Floyd performance of "The Wall" from Berlin in 1990; it turned up again last year on the soundtrack to the movie "The Departed." I've never been much of a Floyd fan but this is just astounding.

4. Jack's evil dad on "24." How could the gentle farmer from "Babe" turn into an arms dealer who killed his own son (not Jack, the other one) at the end of the last episode? Hollywood magic.

5. "Love is a Mix Tape" by Rob Sheffield. Shy indie boy marries loud punk-rock girl, girl dies, boy mourns -- and, eventually, gets his life back -- through the tapes they made. Will make you want to dig out your old cassettes.

He's Prince, and I'm old

I'm a big football fan but the best part of the Super Bowl was Prince rocking the halftime show.

In 20 minutes he touched on a bunch of his hits, covered snippets of "Proud Mary," "All Along the Watchtower" and the Foo Fighters' "The Best of You," and unfurled a big white curtain that turned his guitar into a giant phallic symbol. (Take that, Janet Jackson.)

But then I started thinking about it. The first Prince show I saw was in 1986. Children conceived that night (and I'm guessing there were a few) are halfway through college now.

And then I realized that Prince is officially an oldies act, or they wouldn't have put him on the Super Bowl halftime show. (Billy Joel did the national anthem, and I'm proud to report he left the field without his walker.)

And THEN I remembered reading that Prince has jumped around on stage so much that he might need... a hip replacement.

Good Lord.

Anybody else have a moment like that lately? Write in and make me feel better. Until then I need some warm milk and a nap.

The Friday Five

Five things that moved me this week:

1. "About Alice," Calvin Trillin. A spare, sweet, funny book about Trillin's late wife. You can read it in an afternoon. The last line is still ringing in my head.

2. "David and Mamet," directed by Alex Rose. Everything you need to know about Mamet's rat-a-tat style -- in 91 seconds. "Glengarry Glen Ross" minus the steak knives and F-words.

3. "The Randall Knife," Guy Clark (on the CD "Dublin Blues"). Last week we saw the best concert I've been to in awhile -- Lyle Lovett, John Hiatt, Joe Ely and Guy Clark at Ovens. It was in the guitar-pull format, where they took turns playing and came together for a couple songs at the end. Clark didn't play "Randall Knife," but the show made me go back home and listen. One of the finest songs ever about what bonds a father and son.

4. Bill Dance bloopers. We watched so many fishing shows growing up that I don't know how I missed this. If you value expensive fishing rods, prepare to wince.

5. Molly Ivins. Raise a glass to one of the funniest, hell-raisingest columnists there ever was.

A YouTube moment

I'm always looking for strange little moments of beauty and grace in the world, and some days the best place to find them is YouTube.

Here, a musician from Wilmington plays Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" at an assisted-living center while people walk around in the background. Something about this reminds me of a David Lynch movie.



I'm sure a lot of y'all have plumbed the depths of YouTube more than I have. What's the best stuff out there with a Carolinas connection? Send me the links and I'll post one here every so often.

Coldest you've ever been?

Well, THAT was a nippy little jaunt to get the paper out of the front yard at 6 this morning. It got down to 18 in Charlotte and 16 in a couple other towns in the area.

I'm a Southern boy -- we played softball Christmas Day one year -- so I don't have that much experience with really cold days. But I do remember one.

Ten years ago I was headed to Chicago for a story and I stopped somewhere in Indiana farm country to get gas. The next day, in Chicago, the wind chill would be 18 below. This night was something like that.

But I thought: I'm just gonna be out of the car for five minutes. No need for a hat or gloves or anything.

Why yes, I am a moron.

In that five minutes my eyeballs almost iced over and my ears almost fell off and my hand just about stuck to the gas nozzle.

It took a while for me to get warm again. Like, April.

So: What's the coldest you've ever been? Add your deep-freeze stories below. I fully expect to hear from the Minnesotans in the house. Try not to start every post with "That was nothing..."

Post-Thanksgiving thanks

Some things about Thanksgiving you can appreciate in advance -- getting together with family, leftover turkey on the weekend, whispering about what to get the spouse/parents/in-laws for Christmas.

But some years the best parts are the ones you didn't expect to appreciate.

This year I'm thankful to my wife's parents for never turning on the TV all weekend, because it spared me from the Panthers game.

I'm thankful for having to get up early Saturday morning to let the dog out, because that meant we got to see the deer in the woods. This was without a doubt the greatest event in our dog's life that did not involve treats. He is on point now even when he's asleep.

I'm thankful for the traffic jam outside of Asheville, because it got us on the back roads and off the interstate. It turns out that downtown Canton is sort of lovely.

I was thankful for old copies of the New Yorker, little kids showing off their new bikes, sandhill cranes chattering on their yearly trip south, and the good sandwiches at the only restaurant open weekends in downtown Dayton, Tennessee.

And of course I'm thankful for all of you who have already responded to Project Joy, my drive to provide Christmas gifts for Mecklenburg County's foster kids. If you're interested, more details here.

Thanks for thinking of us.

Clarifying Panthers story

My column today was about a group of Iraq-war vets who were treated to a tour of the Carolina Panthers' operations at Bank of America Stadium. Along the way they met some players. In the column, I wrote this:

The Panthers had the day off but four players showed up -- safety Mike Minter, defensive end Mike Rucker, fullback Brad Hoover and linebacker Chris Draft.


A few readers took that to mean that the other players blew off the event. Not the case. The fault was mine, for a badly worded sentence.

I called the Panthers' offices to double-check. Riley Fields, the team's director of community relations, confirmed what I had guessed -- most of the team didn't even know about the event.

The staff asked only a few players to come -- mainly, players who had helped with other military-themed events. Fields said the team didn't want a big crowd because the tour was intended to be intimate.

My apologies for not writing that better. Now back to our regularly scheduled discussion of the Dallas game...

Tats for tots

If you're thinking about a Christmas gift for the young'uns on your list, you can stop looking now:

The Gr8 TaT2 Maker

And note the recommended age bracket: 6 to 12 years. A guaranteed hit at those first-grade birthday parties!

Boys, remember: The tribal tattoo around the bicep is so five years ago. Like, when you were in diapers.

And girls, don't get a tattoo with your boyfriend's name. Kindergarten romances almost never last.