Fatherly Advice

Director's DVD Commentary: It's getting close to Father's Day season and this will be my first one without my dad. I was going to run this closer to actual Father's Day but it's been a busy week/weekend and I'm at a loss for subject material. So rather than continuing to parse the recent events of the month, I figured I'd tell you a story about some of the best advice my father ever gave me.

It took place when I was a teenager in the late 70s and our family lived out in the farmlands west of Toledo, Ohio. We lived on a little more than an acre in an area rife with ponds. We had a big barn that we turned into a party-house, which we used with great abandon. It was a great place and time to grow up.

The Fish Story

One summer weekend, my parents went on a trip to visit relatives and took my younger siblings with them. Because I was the oldest and had a part-time job, I was allowed to stay home. I was just out of high school and this was the summer before college started, so it was a given that there was going to be a party of some kind. It was just a small one… my few of my closest buds and some neighborhood folk.

Someone came up with the idea that we should have a breakfast fish fry the next morning. Catching the fish would be no problem. Our neighbors directly behind us had a pond, in which we were allowed to fish. In fact, we helped stock it by depositing in it catfish, bass, and bluegills that we had caught elsewhere. But why do something we were allowed to do when instead we could have an adventure? 

See, there was a pond behind theirs that belonged to some other neighbors who never let anyone fish or swim in their pond. You could see the fish in there; bluegills the size of a loaf of bread, enormous bass, all but poking their heads up out of the water and going “pppbbbbhhhhhhhhhtt!” We had no choice. We were provoked.

So about 10:30 PM, we staged our little fishing raid. A handful of us crept out, rods and lures in hand, and began stealthily fishing in the pond. We could see Mr. And Mrs. Neighbor up in their house, about 75 yards away. The lights were on, so while we could look in, they couldn't see us out in the dark.

We began pulling these big bluegill out of there immediately; it was just too easy. It was much easier, in fact than getting the hooks out by moonlight. We had a big bucket that we threw them in, and in no time we had a bunch in the can. At some point, we saw some motion up in the windows so we made a dash for it, grabbing up the bucket and hauling butt. I didn't even have my line out of the water. I just ran, with the line dragging behind me, the hooks pulling up little chunks of grass.

Anyway, we got back to The Barn and counted up our half dozen monster bluegills. The fish fry was on, so now, we just had to figure out how to fry the damned things. We knew how to filet and bone them, but that was it. Our friend Rob, who worked with me at the neighborhood grocery store, said he’d call home to his mom and ask for a good breading recipe. 

His family was from Brooklyn NY and his mom was a tremendous cook. Of course, she wanted to know why we wanted this information, so he told her about our fishing party and came away with what we needed. The next morning we had quite a tasty little bluegill feast.

My parents came home that evening, and over dinner, I told them about our small party. Near the end of dinner, the phone rang and the caller asked for me. It was Mrs. Neighbor, who proceeded to tell me she saw me out there fishing last night and wanted me to pay for the fish we caught. She said she wanted at a buck a pound. 

I denied everything, of course. 

“What fish? I wasn't fishing! I don't know what you are talking about!” 

She proceeded to describe what I was wearing that night, my shirt, my overalls, right down to the hat on my head. Still denying I was out there, that I was fishing, and that I even owned a hat, I finally said something brilliant like, “OK, even though I didn't take any fish, I’ll still pay you for them if I have to.”

I sat back down and then told my folks about the "fishing" part of the party, which I had neglected to mention earlier. They said, “Well, she gotcha, now ya gotta take your lumps.” I was sadly resigned to my fate, still wondering how she'd know how many pounds of fish we took.

Before the table was even cleared, Rob and my other friend Rik pulled up in the driveway. I dashed out of the house and told them everything… I mean, I wasn't the ONLY one out there and I wasn't going down alone. Then as I described the phone conversation, I noticed how neither of them would look directly at me. They seemed to be biting the inside of their cheeks. I stopped talking and looked at them and they just exploded with laughter.

It turned out that it was Rob’s mom who called, who described what I’d been wearing and heard me lie my ass off to her. Actually, I was relieved not to have to go show up at Mrs. Neighbor’s door, although not so relieved that I didn't give them a good cussing out just for putting me through the strain.

I ran inside to tell my folks the good news, that it was just Rob’s mom yanking my chain. Dad said, “So now, what are you going to do to get back at her?”

Hmmm. I agreed that I couldn't take this lying down and that revenge must be obtained. Then Dad gave me the best advice of my young life. He said, “The best revenge for a practical joke is to make it seem that it worked too well.” Genius!

We sent Rob back to tell his mom that my dad got so mad at me that he marched me right over to Mrs. Neighbor’s house and made me pay her off. Then he grounded me from the car for a month.

She was crestfallen when Rob told her the story… she never meant any harm. Rob must have given quite a performance too. She even woke him up late that night, trying to see if she could shake his story while he was half asleep. Rob held up though and stuck to the plan.

So, cut to the following weekend, as we were both working at the grocery store. She came in for her regular weekly shopping. I knew she’d want to ‘fess up, busting with guilt. Naturally, I did everything I could to avoid her. She came up once, with big sad eyes and a mournful look. I put on a look like someone just killed my puppy, all sad and forlorn. She asked me how I was doing. I just said, “Not so good, I got in pretty big trouble this week, but listen, I can’t talk now… I gotta go.”

That’s how it went for the next half hour: her stalking me up and down the aisles to try to confess, with me trying to avoid her.

The payoff was set for when she checked out. I arranged to be the one to bag her groceries and this was the day and age when bag boys still took your stuff out and packed your car. As we went out to the car, she just spilled it. “It was me on the phone,” she said, “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I’m sorry, it was just a joke, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

I just stood there, jaw dropped open, looking shocked.

Finally, I smiled and said, “That’s OK because I didn't really get in any trouble, I was just getting in a little payback.” Her response was typical of her upbringing as an Italian mother from Brooklyn.

“YOU SONOFABITCH BASTID!” she screamed at me, “How can you do that to a poor old woman? I oughta kick you right in the ass for that, you had me up all night from the guilt…”

We ended up having a great laugh about it. Meanwhile, I was giving mental high fives to my dad. He was most pleased by the way it played out when I told him how it turned out.

I went on to employ this tactic on numerous occasions, although it was often in the form of advice to others who’d been tricked. Just act as if their prank went too well and let them think it unleashed some unintended consequences. It never failed.

Dad once told me how he used it one time when he was the safety director of a company that ran corrugated cardboard production factories, and one of his cronies left him a voicemail message that there had been a fatality at his local plant. Dad called the plant immediately and found out that there was no such accident. So he called his crony back and left him a message... that he'd just contacted the CEO and the both of them would be on the next flight down to investigate the fatality. Then he wouldn't take the guy's increasingly frantic calls.

THEN, he got the CEO to call the guy and bust his balls a little more, before letting him off the hook. Sometimes, you have to show people what you're capable of, so they don't mess with you again. That's another lesson he taught me.

Also note that throughout these gags, no one was actually hurt, nor was there any significant property damage done (except to a handful of naturally replaceable fish). Dad always said that the best practical jokes are played in the mind, to make you think something terrible was happening. 

Even throughout my own long history with practical jokes, I always made sure there was no actual harm done. It's more fun that way because you can move on with a clear conscience. Although you never know in today's hyper-sensitive era. 

Had I tried this now, I might have been called out for fish shaming.

Note: All photos courtesy of ME, although they were most certainly NOT taken at the time of this story. Digital cameras were not invented yet, nor were Windows PCs, CDs, MP3s, or string cheese. We had nothing to do all day but think of ways to torture each other. Those were the days...

Make Them Wear Their Votes

The passage of the Biden Infrastructure bill got me thinking a couple of things.

First of all, Whoo Hoo! And it’s about damned time they passed a bill that helps people (who aren’t already filthy rich).

It also made me think about the campaigns for the 2022 elections. It’s been widely predicted that the Democrats will get their asses handed to them in the midterms. But it shouldn’t have to be that way if they campaign correctly. I think they need to hang all those Republican “No” votes around their necks like anchors.

The Democrats who supported this bill (and maybe other bills too, if someone can kidnap Manchin and Sinema for a few weeks), should be out there highlighting what it’s going to do for the voting public and making their opponents explain why they voted “no” or supported the “no” votes.

They need to make their opponents explain how passing the Trump Tax Cut bill without a thought to the deficit or the economy was proper yet supporting this bill was not. And if they try to talk about how it was supposed to stimulate the economy, explain that the “trickle-down” programs have never worked as advertised. They didn’t work when Reagan did it, didn’t work under W Bush, and they most certainly didn’t work with the former guy.

And also make them explain why, if they really were concerned about the middle class, why the middle-class tax cuts were sunsetted after seven-year, but the tax breaks for the 1% were permanent?

If I were a candidate, I’d hammer this stuff every single day. It doesn’t even matter who the particular opponent is; just talk about what the Republicans have done in the last 40 years and hang it around their necks. If that’s their team, they have to bear the consequences.

Take every extreme Republican policy, no matter where, and explain that this is what their team wants.

Their team wants:

·        Roe vs Wade reversed or made irrelevant.

·        To allow the spread of disease by downplaying or eliminating common-sense steps to fight it, the same kinds of steps this country took to eliminate polio, smallpox, and the other formerly widespread infectious diseases.

·        To suppress voting until the only non-suppressed voting groups are their own. They want to take away YOUR vote!

·        The donor class to pay nothing in taxes and have no limitations on what they can do to make more money, usually at YOUR expense.

·        To ignore the obvious, right-there-in-your-face effects of climate change, so the afore-mentioned 1% can continue with their current profit margin. (Up until their facilities are underwater, I suppose.)

·        To allow our roads and bridges to crumble under our feet and tires. All those “no” votes on Infrastructure were because Republican donors did not want to pay for any of it and that’s how they instructed the congresspeople they paid for to vote. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t get any say over how tax dollars are used because they contribute so little to the fund in the first place.

·        To keep all wages, not just minimum wage, suppressed. Payroll costs money. Until they can automate their entire production process, they want to pay as little in salary as they possibly can. Whether their employees can make a decent living does not factor into the equation.

Republicans consistently vote against every one of these items when they’ve been proposed, or more often, prevented from even coming up for a vote. Mitch McConnell has killed more popular bills in committee than most Congressmen have ever proposed.

I’m becoming alarmed that Joe Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema are going to become “Democratic Mitches.” McConnell is incapable of being publically shamed because he has none. He has no reason to care about his image or national popularity and he just got re-elected in a runaway. He only has his donors to please like those of Manchin and Sinema, who don’t care about anything more than not paying for social or environmental programs. Hence the constant focus on how much the bill costs rather than what it can do.

We need to get to a place where those two votes aren’t the lynchpin of popular, widely beneficial bills. Granted, the odds are that the 1% may buy themselves some new senators, but we’ll have to blow up that bridge when we come to it.

More Dad Stories

Shortly after the Big Tennis Game, (I mentioned in last week’s post, wherein my little 5’9” Dad and a neighbor lady kicked the crap out of their big, blond, athletic neighbors in a tennis match,) relations between the houses started to deteriorate.

First off, my golden retriever came up missing. After a thorough search, we called the pound and yup, there she was.  We then learned that our neighbors, the Blonds, called in a complaint on her, because they said she knocked down one of their kids.

Now, anyone that knows golden retrievers knows that they’re harmless and are rarely aggressive.  Obviously, my dog was much bigger than the little kid so I can see how she got knocked down.  And if it did happen, I’m sure it was only to lick the crud off her face. But wouldn’t a phone call to us be a better choice than having the freakin’ dog catcher come pick her up?  They knew whose dog it was.  Still, we didn’t say anything right then.

Later that week, Dad was out in the backyard and heard the Blond kids calling the dog over into their yard.  That’s when Dad went ballistic.  They’re calling the pound when their fucking kids are calling the dog over???  He called up Mr. Blond and reamed him a new one, right through his designer tracksuit. I sat there and listened to the whole thing and man, it was brutal. 

We didn’t have much to do with them after that.  From then on, Dad took every opportunity to screw with his head.

Most of the opportunities came because of the way our properties were laid out.  Like I said, our barn ran lengthwise between our houses.  And we had about 3 or 4 feet of property on the other side of the barn.  Basically, it was turf that we never really saw but was right there for them to see every day.

First, there were the lawn cutting wars.  As you might imagine, the Blonds were pretty fussy about their lawn.  So Dad would time it so that he cut his grass 2 or 3 days after the Blonds did so that ours would look more manicured.  Invariably, Mr. Blond would come out afterward and re-cut the parts that bordered ours, so as not to look bad in comparison.

Then Dad stopped cutting the strip on the other side of the barn entirely.  Eventually Mr. Blond ended up cutting it too.  It was probably a better deal for him anyway because, unlike my dad, HE wouldn’t blow the grass clippings into his garden.

Psychological warfare is fun!

My favorite story is this, and I really have no idea what even started it.

Dad took a tape measure out to the other side of the barn one day, (again, out of sight from our house but right beside their house) and started making some measurements.  Almost immediately, Mr. Blond approached to ask what he was doing.

Dad said, “Well, I’ve been thinking about raising some pigs and I thought this would be the best place for the pen.”

Dad said Mr. Blond turned an even whiter shade of white and just said, “Pigs?”

Dad went on about how they would keep us stocked with meat and bacon and that Mr. Blond should try to make sure the kids didn’t bother his pigs.  He made some marks and put a few stakes in the ground, then went back in the house, leaving the big guy to stew about this new development.

Of course, there were no pigs.  Dad was completely screwing with him.  But the thing is, he totally would have if he could have gotten either of his sons to buy in on the plan.  He traveled too much to care for the pigs himself so my brother and I would have had to do most of it.  This was one of the few times my brother and I were on the same page.  We told him there was no way we were taking care of any pigs.

Dad was mildly disappointed.  It would have been his crowning glory… investing in raising thousands of pounds of pig, for no other reason but to annoy the neighbors.

Music Associations

Following last week’s Springsteen post, I wasn’t going to write about music again so soon, but then I saw this graphic on Facebook:

I thought it looked like the makings of a fun post, so what the hell, I thought I’d give it a shot.

Director’s DVD Commentary: I’m answering these as songs I like, even when not specified, and not just as a trivia test. I will list song/artist/album (when known) and my rationale. Many of these songs I’ve mentioned here before, so look for the links for additional information.

1)      A song you like with a color in the title: Still Got the Blues, Gary Moore, (title track). Also considered Back in Black, but I like this slow, smoldering, soaring blues number better. RIP Gary Moore. Also reminds me of those several months where I was a regular in a little Schenectady strip bar.

2)      A song you like with a number in the title: I Can’t Drive 55, Sammy Hagar, VOA. Also 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. (j/k) Great driving beat for a great driving song. (Not the best, however, see #7.)

3)      A song that reminds you of summertime: Let’s Go, The Cars, Candy-O. I could really pick any song by The Cars. They were always a primo summer band to me. Lots of sunny-day, top-down music.

4)      A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about: The Dream, David Sanborn, Change of Heart. This was an instrumental jazz sax track that I always associate with that girl from Cleveland who put me through the ringer, both in the 80s and the 2000s. Nice song, but it’s impossible for me to separate the two.

5)      A song that needs to be played LOUD! Rock You Like a Hurricane, Scorpions w/ the Berlin Philharmonic, Moment of Glory. The power chords of the Scorpions meet the original heavy metal of a full symphony orchestra… this track ROCKS.

6)      A song that makes you want to dance: Shout, Otis Day and the Knights, Animal House Soundtrack. This was THE dance/party song of my college years. And of course, we all would do the “gator.”

7)      A song to drive to: Roll On Down the Highway, Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Not Fragile. There are so many good “driving songs,” but this one is a favorite. You want to know frustration? Being stuck in traffic when this one comes on.

8)      A song about drugs or alcohol: I Ain’t Drunk, I’m Just Drinkin’, Albert Collins, Cold Snap. Great party song that came out just after we stopped having Barn Parties.

9)      A song that makes you happy: Let it Ride, Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Bachman-Turner Overdrive II. Always reminds me of when I saw them in concert in the 80s and they opened with this song. And it was stone cold perfect.

10)   A song that makes you sad: Keep Me in Your Heart, Warren Zevon, The Wind. It hurts every time I hear it. This was the last song Zevon recorded for his final album, made while battling terminal cancer. And I have a tight association between this song and my late friend, Brill, who introduced me to Zevon way back when.

11)   A song that you never get tired of: Up to my Neck in You, AC/DC, Powerage. I had this album for over 20 years before I really paid attention to this song and now I’m obsessed with it, due completely to that long, slow-building, simmering and explosive guitar solo. I yearn for the days when we used to go all out on the “air-guitars” during barn parties. I would have nailed this one.

12)   A song from your preteen years: Spirit in the Sky, Norman Greenbaum, Title Track. From a very young age, I loved that nasty, greasy, grungy guitar lick. The heck with the smarmy “uplifting” lyrics, this had a grooooove!

13)   One of your favorite 80s songs: Hells Bells, AC/DC, Back in Black. This was the song that opened the door to me for AC/DC. Believe it or not, at one time I hated them. Hell’s Bells made me rethink my position and I’ve been rocking out to them for almost 40 years.

14)   A song that you would love played at your wedding: Some Kind of Wonderful, Grand Funk, All the Girls in the World Beware. As a matter of fact, I’ll be getting married next summer and if we were playing music, I’d play this song. So far, it’s the only “Our Song” we have. Why? Because when we first started dating steadily, I hugged her and said, “My Babeh!” Then she said, “Mah Babeh!” And we went back and forth going “Mah Babeh” like they do at the end of the song. The fact that she picked that right up told me I had found the right girl.

15)   A song that is a cover by another artist: Jumpin Jack Flash, Aretha Franklin, Jumpin Jack Flash Soundtrack. Also, the same song by Johnny Winter. Both artists put their mark on it. Aretha belts it out with funk and gospel choir backing vocals. Johnny tears it up with a lot of yelling and a wicked, high-speed guitar solo. (RIP Aretha.)

16)   One of your favorite classical songs: William Tell Overture, Glen Campbell, B-Side to the Southern Nights single. Found this by accident. As a joke, I got my mom the Southern Nights single (she hated that song) but I found this on the back, with old Glen pickin’ it along with the orchestra. Hiyo Silver!

17)   A song you would sing a duet with on karaoke: Disorder in the House, Warren Zevon (with Bruce Springsteen), The Wind. I’d sing the Bruce part because it doesn’t require any actual singing. I couldn’t carry a tune with a forklift.

18)   A song from the year you were born: Hit the Road Jack, Ray Charles, (1961). I had to look up some songs from ’61 and among all the doo-wop and saccharin orchestral tunes, this was the one with the most “cool.” Brother Ray doesn’t play.

19)   A song that makes you think about life: You’ve got a Friend, Carole King, Tapestry. I had a hard time coming up with a song that makes me think about life. I ended up thinking about friends and how awful life would be without them. I have a number who would come running if I called their names, as would I if they called mine. That’s life. (OH! That totally should have been my song! That’s Life! (I’d go with the David Lee Roth version over Sinatra, though.)

20)   A song that has many meanings to you: Funeral for a Friend, Elton John, Goodbye Yellowbrick Road. I wrote a whole college paper on what I heard in this instrumental. It was the combination of mourning the loss of a loved one (during the slow/sad parts) and the fond remembrance of good times past (during the upbeat parts.) This was a favorite of my late friend Brill’s and mine. That he passed so young made the song all the more poignant to me.

21)   A favorite song with someone’s name in the title: Johnny B Goode, George Thorogood, Live: Let’s Work Together. As George calls it, “The Rock and Roll National Anthem.” Chuck Berry basically invented rock and roll with this song.

22)   A song that moves you forward: Ride On, AC/DC, Dirty Deeds. Who would have thought I’d find inspiration from these guys? But once, long ago, while feeling sorry for myself in a far-away hotel room, this blues ballad picked my ass up and stood me back on my feet. Got me moving again.

23)   A song you think everybody should listen to: Tanqueray, Johnny Johnson, Johnny B Badd. I have many of these, but this is one of the coolest songs I ever heard, yet hardly anyone knows about it.

24)   A song by a band you wish was still together. Don’t Pass Me By, Georgia Satellites, Open All Night. No question that the band was going to be the Satellites. It’s a cryin’ shame they only cut three albums. This was my favorite, a cover of an old Beatles/Ringo Starr song that they totally raved up.

25)   A song by an artist no longer living: Pride and Joy, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Texas Flood. This song sent my musical taste in a whole new direction. One song, one time. I was hooked on SRV and the blues.

26)   A song that makes you want to fall in love: Moondance, Van Morrison, Title Track. First time I heard it was in the movie “American Werewolf in London,” during the love scene. Made me want to go take a shower with a cute nurse, immediately! (This activity proved to be more romantic in theory than in practice.)

27)   A song that breaks your heart: Into the Fire, Bruce Springsteen, The Rising. As mentioned in last week’s post, I bought the CD based on seeing Bruce and the band play it in concert (on TV). It’s still hard to listen to because it never fails to bring back the feelings of 9/11/2001.

28)   A song by an artist with a voice you love: Bat out of Hell, Meat Loaf, Title Track. Possibly my favorite song of all time. Powerful vocal performance amid pounding piano and howling guitars. I think Meat is the greatest rock singer of all time.

29)   A song you remember from your childhood: Zorba the Greek, Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, Going Places. I remember tons of songs from my childhood but this was a favorite. It’s a whole party in four and a half minutes. No wonder Greece is in such bad shape. Who can get anything done with all the dancing and “Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-yip-yip-yip?”

30)  A song that reminds you of yourself: Oreo Cookie Blues, Lonnie Mack, Strike Like Lightning. 

“Chocolate on m’fingers/Icing on mah lips

Sugar diabetes and/Blubber on mah hips

I keep the night light burnin’ in the kitchen, baby

So I can go downstairs and cruise…

I got da Oreo Crème Sandwich, Chocolate Covered Cream-Filled Cookie Blues.”

What I Did on My Summer Vacation - Part 3

I gave you the first two days last week; now on to the rest of the adventure.

I probably should have mentioned this in the last post, to remain true to my chronologically ordered intentions, but on the way down from the airport, my buddy the VP called up his 87-year old dad and told him we’d be there to pick him up to go to the tavern in about 15 minutes.

His dad answered, in his distinctive Kentucky accent, “Why that’d be fine as frog hair.”

I love those old country sayings, especially the ones I’ve never heard before.

Monday

I probably spent half the week working on the leftover pulled pork and corn on the cob from Sunday’s feast.  Luckily I still had enough room for grilled brats.  (I’m sorry I don’t have any pics… but if you’ve seen one sausage, you’ve seen ’em all.) 

Afterwards, we went to the tavern and met up with my fearless friend, Sherry, she of the 52 at 52 Series.  

Important note: Sherry’s book, based on her experience of stepping out of her comfort zone once a week throughout her 52^nd year, will be published in 2017.  I can’t wait to read it!

Tuesday

The big event of the day was going to see the World Famous Toledo Mudhens.

They play in a beautiful downtown ballpark and I never miss a chance to go.  Of course, the Hens probably aren’t too crazy that because they’ve gone 1-9 during all the games I’ve attended, including the 3-0 loss Tuesday night.  Sorry guys.

Wednesday

Barbecued chicken was the order of the day.  The VP did up three chickens, from the rubdown…

…through crispy completion.

After eating, we hit the tavern again, and when they threw us out of there, (due to an 11:00 closing, not because of our behavior), we headed on over to the smaller bar down the street.  The CFO’s daughter was working late and wanted to meet us there afterwards.  She needed some help from the “Council of Elders,” so we made this one a late night.  I hadn’t been out ‘til 2:00 AM in ages.  No skin off my ass, though… I could sleep in.

Thursday

This was the day we decided to go fishing on the Maumee River.  The VP found a little fishing dock and we cast our lines around 9:00 AM.

Morning on the Maumee River

We probably should have come later because we didn’t catch anything for the first three hours but sunburn.  Eventually, the sun moved so we caught a bit of shade for the rest of the day, as long as we stayed about 5 feet back from the railing.

Later on, we started seeing some action.  The VP pulled in a sheephead, and then I caught a couple, as well.

I had an even smaller one earlier.

Highlight of the day was pulling in this channel catfish.

Next thing you know, I was catching my own bait.

I don’t even know how I caught this thing… must have just swam into the hook.

I tried reusing it as bait, but that was it for the day’s biting.

It wasn’t like we were trying to keep any to eat; we had plenty to fill our bellies that evening when we went to my old college haunt, Myles Pizza, for the biggest pie you’ll ever lay eyes on.

God, I love this pizza!

We had a big group, with me, the VP, the CFO, his 3 kids, and his oldest daughter’s 3 kids plus fiancé.  And we still had leftovers! 

The CFO’s youngest daughter and beneficiary of the wisdom passed down by the Council of Elders.

The CFO’s son and I square off for our annual “Who’s Tallest Now?” contest. 

As you can see, I have him by about a frog hair.  Of course, there are ¾ inch cushions in my sneakers, plus a Dr. Scholl’s gel insert, while the boy was wearing what looked like dock shoes, so I was totally cheating.  Age and treachery, baby!  He’s just going into his junior year of high school this fall so I expect he’ll have passed me by my next visit, whether I’m gellin’ or not.

When we got home, there was no room for beer, but we’d planned ahead.  We had some incredible Woodford Reserve whiskey instead of beer and killed the night watching a Naked Gun marathon.  Life is good.

Friday

The CFO and I went out to watch the new Jason Bourne movie that afternoon.  If you like the other Bourne movies, you’ll like this one.  It’s good stuff.

For a culinary finale, the VP barbecued up some awesome pork ribs and baked potatoes, which we attacked with our customary enthusiasm.

I’m pretty sure I should stick to salads this week, after last week’s Meat-O-Rama.

After the rib feast, we went back to the tavern once more, but this time entailed a reunion.  That morning I’d heard from my old buddy Bruce, whose co-worker we convinced that we were brothers, just so I could get a discount at the toy store where they worked, and then kept up the ruse for more than a year.  He and his sister were in town from the west coast and it was my last night in town, so we had no choice but to meet up.

I hadn’t seen Bruce or his sister (another Sherry) since the early 80s so it was great to catch up.  You can tell a friendship is real when no matter how long the layoff, whenever you get back together, it’s as if you were just hanging out the previous week.

It was a nice way to end the week.  Old friends are the best.

L-R: The VP, The CFO, and me.

Thanks for putting up with me again this year, guys.  And I can’t believe we made it through a presidential election year without talking about politics!

Our Parents Had it Made

I saw this article online this week, entitled “5 Things our Parents Did That Would Get Them Arrested Today.”  It was an interesting read, albeit a bit misleading.  Some of their examples were one-offs, or something that rarely happens now, which makes it technically possible.  Possible enough for the click-bait headline, anyway.

Regardless, I thought I’d give it a lookover and see how many times MY folks would have hit the pokey.

1. Taking Naked Kiddie Photos.  The article reports of one couple in Arizona who in 2008, had the photo shop call the cops on their kiddie bath-time pics.  The judge immediately dismissed the case.  This is one of those one-offs.  I just wonder who in the hell was still taking film photos in for developing in 2008.  That’s the crime here.

The Verdict: Guilty.  Just like every other parent in the 60s.  Everyone took pictures of their kids running around bare-assed, or sitting in the tub.  (In my case, I was usually surrounded by toys called “Soakies,” which were cartoon and super-hero shaped bottles of bubblebath stuff.) 

Judging from Facebook, it’s still going on now though.  Cassie, you haven’t heard from the cops yet, have you?

2. Leaving Kids Home Alone.  They mention that several states have laws stating you can’t leave your child home alone until the age of 12.  (14 in Illinois.)

The Verdict: Not Guilty.  None of us were ever left home alone until I was in junior high.  In 7^th grade, I was in a split shift school, and my shift didn’t start until noon.  Mom would go off to work and I would get myself ready for and then off to school.  No biggie.  I would also babysit for my younger brother and sister occasionally when my parents needed a break from our bullshit went out to eat. 

However, we certainly weren’t supervised once we were out of the house.  We pretty much had full run of the neighborhood during the summer or after school.  And we had watches and knew enough to get home for dinner.  There was no such thing as a “play date.”  I would die of embarrassment before I’d let my mom arrange for me to play with some other kid.

3. Smoking in the Car. Six states have laws on the books preventing smoking in cars with young children, due to their still-developing lungs.  Apparently it’s perfectly fine to kill your older children.

The Verdict: Guilty.  I wish they had those law way back when, because that’s one I could have used.  Mom used to smoke in the car, and I hated it.  Gave me a dizzy headache every time.  It was bad enough being cooped up in the back seat with my siblings for long car trips, where all we had to do was torment each other and try not to get swatted from the front seat.

This one went hand in hand with:

4. Seat belts.  Laws mandating seat belt use are relatively modern, but they are prevalent.  Plus there’s the car seat thing, which mandates the use of car seats until the kid is practically a teenager.

The Verdict: Not Guilty.  Technically, I can remember a time in the early 60s when our car didn’t have seat belts in the back seat.  But by the mid-60s, when we got a new car that had them, they became mandatory for us.  Of course, we hated them.  Nothing like being strapped down for that 8-hour car trip, with nothing to do but torment each other and try not to die from the cigarette smoke.

Sometimes we’d try to silently release the latch for a little breathing room, but Dad always heard the click.  It was like trying to get into the candy dish or cookie jar, only you were within swatting range.

5.  Weight gain.  Another one-off.  Three years ago, a boy in Cleveland was taken from his home because he was 200 lbs by third grade, and health officials said his mother didn’t know how to make him lose weight.  I don’t think this is a widespread thing… the child removal, not having big fat kids.  That seems to be an epidemic.

The Verdict: Not Guilty.  We certainly never wanted for food… sometimes it wasn’t the food we wanted… cough-PopTarts-cough, but we had plenty to eat.  But between the well-balanced diets, only having 4 channels on TV, and the non-existence of video games, we ran off our extra calories by playing outside.  None of us ever had weight problems as kids.

So that’s the five the article featured, but I’d add one more:

6.  Providing alcohol to your kids AND all the neighbor kids. 

The Verdict: Guilty.  Once we moved out to the outskirts of Toledo and my friends and I commandeered The Barn, the drinking lamp was lit.  When we had parties, everyone in the neighborhood attended.  For the small gatherings, my buddies and I bought our own beer, but for the big events, like New Year’s Eve parties, my parents would get a keg and plenty of wine.  My friends and I were mostly over 18, (which was all you had to be at the time), but my brother and sister, and their friends and all the neighborhood kids were vastly under-age.

And that was just fine.  We had parties where my parents chaperoned (when not cutting it up on the dance floor) and we collected keys at the door.  Drinking never cause a single accident or incident at our parties.  Granted, a couple of relationships came to a messy end, but hey, that’s life.

So in summation, we have a split decision… 3 guiltys, 3 not guiltys.  Hung jury, case dismissed.  We seemed to have survived the things that would have gotten the folks in Dutch nowadays, and the others didn’t apply.

Maybe it’s time to take off the bubble wrap and let kids go back to being kids.

Nanu Nanu

I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Robin Williams died yesterday, by an apparent suicide.   I mean, everyone’s heard, right?  It’s been all over the news, the internet, all of social media.

I found out about it last night, a friend’s Facebook popup message had the news.  It’s probably not a coincidence that today has been dark and rainy; the very essence of gloom.  It’s like Nature is acknowledging that the she’s has lost one of her brightest lights.

I’m not going to run down all the amazing things he’s done.  You know them.  The guy was brilliant on TV shows, on records, in the movies, on stage.  When he wasn’t blazing like manic fire, he was acting so deeply and touchingly, it affected your soul.

As I digested the news and read the statements of grief rolling over Twitter, it made me wonder if there is a more beloved person in America.  I was overcome with a profound sadness I haven’t felt since Princess Diana died.  I know, that’s weird when it involves someone you don’t know, and who travels in circles you’ll never see.

But I feel like I grew up with this guy.  He burst onto the scene on TV, as Mork from Ork.  Yes, I watched the show every week, and loved his madcap zany.  But this was still a traditional sitcom… it was like a cross between Happy Days and Alf, on 78-speed.  He looked like a furry elf. 

And because it was a Garry Marshall production, they had to have a catch phrase and a cloying Big Lesson at the end of every episode.  Mork’s weekly epilogue with “Orson” took care of both.

I was a junior in high school when it first came on, and sure I watched the show every week, but by then I enjoyed edgier stuff.  So when his first comedy album came out the next year, wow, it was like a comedy tornado.  The dude was just going a mile a minute with strange voices, accents, asides and tangents. 

This is the whole album.  My favorite bit comes at the end.  It’s called “Welcome to my Mind.”  It’s a peek at what goes on inside a comic’s mind, when he bombs onstage. 

I never really thought about it until now, but he had a big ripple effect on my group of friends.  We were doing a lot of improve comedy on cassette tapes that summer.  Now, I did “OK,” but Billy was a master of making shit up as we went along.  How could we not be affected by the boundless energy and wit of Robin Williams? 

We all used to imitate bits of his act.  Bill imitated Williams doing Lawrence Welk.  Rik got some rainbow suspenders, just like he wore.  (John and I got similar ones as well.)  For a while, he made me want to be “That Guy,” who could command a room and reduce it to ashes.  After the effects of Robin Williams and Steve Martin, we were all trying to be comedians, where nothing was too weird or irreverent to goof on.

It’s sad to realize that now I’m going to have to live in a world that Robin Williams won’t be in.  It reminds me of a scene from one of the Harry Potter movies, after Ron Weasley had his first encounter with a soul-sucking “Dementor.”  His line was, “I felt like I’d never be cheerful again.”

That’s kind of how I feel right now.  So I apologize for not bringing the chuckles today.  I’m just not feeling very cheerful.  And I don’t know if listening to that album again is going to make me feel better, or worse.

Rest in peace, dude.  I hope you are finding the peace that eluded you here.

Director’s DVD Commentary: I began playing that album clip as I edited and prepared my post for the online template.  Better… it’s definitely making me feel better.  I haven’t heard this stuff in 25 years, and it’s still freakin’ funny.  I was going to give you the time where the bit I mentioned begins, but you should really listen to the whole thing.  Trust me, you’ll feel better.

A Week in the Sticks Part 2

Continuing on with my vacation adventures, I have to mention that throughout all these “adventures,” there was considerable time for watching daytime TV.  One of the staples was “Tru TV,” (formerly “Court TV”), which featured lots of shows like “The Worlds Dumbest Hillbillies Part 4,” The World’s Dumbest Partiers Part 17,” and “The World’s Most Shocking Videos Part 785.”

Talk about a profitable production… all they have to do is mine YouTube for people breaking things and hitting each other with various implements, find some of these clowns to talk about what happened, and BANG, they have a TV series.

They probably ought to just rename their channel “Lowest Common Denominator TV,” and call it a day.  Not that it wasn’t entertaining, mind you.  But there are only so many times you can watch someone crash into something with a tractor.  Anyway, onto the rest of the week.

Wednesday

When I used to live there, we used to go to this little Mexican place called Loma Linda’s.   To say that it was unimpressive from the outside, would be a vast understatement.  It was basically a shack with some tables and a bar.  But the food was awesome.

This is Loma Linda’s, as I remember it. Yes, I even remember it in black and white.

When I worked for the record store, my manager and I used to go there for lunch, for a massive burrito and extremely stiff margaritas.  Of course then he’d send ME in to tell his assistant manager that he wasn’t coming back to work.  Meanwhile, I’d seek out a hideaway in the back room for a siesta.

So after missing out on the $1 taco special on Tuesday, I was primed for Mexican, so I suggested to the guys that we hit Loma’s for lunch.  They completely remodeled back in the mid to late 80s, so now it shares very little with the earlier version, but the name and location.

The newer version.

The food is still good, so I came out of there packed.  I didn’t try the margaritas though.  Had to save some stamina for later in the day.  It had already been a pretty alcohol-intensive week so far.

On the way home, we passed our old house; the one where we had The Barn.  The place looks good, even though they seem to be running some kind of business out of it.

 They put up a fence, I presume to keep people like me from seeing what was going on with the barn.

I can still see they did a lot of work on it, putting up new siding, a new roof, and new vent stacks, the latter of which is probably necessary for the meth business.

I might have liked to get out of the car and creep up closer for some better pictures, but that would have ruined our alibi for what we were doing.  If anyone challenged me on taking pictures of this house, I was going to shout out, “Google Maps!” and tell the VP to punch it.

Having been packed with meat and bean products, the VP and I retired to his place for the afternoon, to watch “house movies.”  By that, I mean Roadhouse and Animal House.  Gotta appreciate the classics.

Of course, we did take a quick trip to the Tavern during “intermission.”

Thursday

This was the day I was looking forward to… the day of my annual trip to my old college pizza joint, Myles Pizza.  It’s something we do every time I visit.  These pizzas are massive; a veritable orgy of meat, sauce and cheese.

We had to wait until 6:00 PM, until the CFO’s daughter got off work.  She met us at the VP’s house, then we headed down to Bowling Green, where the CFO and his son joined us.  As usual, the pizza was amazing.

Totally worth the trip.  To Ohio.

The worst part is waiting for them to cool.  The sauce is like 7000 degrees.

That kid from “Mask?”  That wasn’t a birth defect; he bit into a hot pizza and got splashed by the sauce.

After the pizza trip, there’s usually no room for beer.  Instead, the VP and I poured some Jack on ice, and watched the Bruce Willis movie “RED,” with the CFO, who hadn’t seen it.  Of course, he had to go and ruin the whole movie for us by pointing out that someone saluted improperly, because the “salutee” wasn’t wearing a hat.  Because that was totally the most unbelievable part of the movie.

Friday

The VP spent the day smoking a turkey.  And here I was sure he’d never find rolling papers large enough.

No, we weren’t actually “smoking” the turkey; he put it on the grill about 10:00 AM, with low coals and wet wood chips, and just let that baby roast all afternoon.

It was stuffed with onion and Tony Packo’s hot dogs.  Klinger would have been proud.

We had to pull the grill into the edge of the garage, because we had a pretty stiff rainstorm roll through.  The weather channels were going nuts, as usual, but it looked worse than it really was.

Ohio storms are very dramatic-looking.  All this for a little rainstorm…

Everything cleared off by evening, paving the way for our high school’s “All Year Reunion,” which is really just a big block party outside one of the two bars in town.  It wasn’t like they were checking class rings at the door.

This was the third one of these I’d been to, and I still haven’t met anyone I knew from high school.  Although this time, I did see a couple of my brother’s friends.  I approached one guy and made a comment about one of his (and my brother’s) high school exploits.  He just kind of looked at me and went “And I know you from…”

I said, “Barn.”

He said, “Bluzdude!”

I saw one other guy I knew from college, who coincidentally, I mostly remembered from his luring me to cut class by seeing if I wanted to go in on a Myles Pizza.  As I always say, I can resist anything except temptation.  Pizza trumped History of Broadcasting every time.

Saturday

This was my departure day, but not until 7:40 PM.  We didn’t have to leave for Detroit until 5:00, so there was time for leftover pizza and a movie.  We watched another action classic, Geena Davis (the action hero) and Samuel L Jackson (comic relief) in “The Long Kiss Goodnight.”  I pointed out to the CFO, that this movie was totally believable, because no one saluted anyone else improperly.

The trip back was uneventful, even though I was packing 6 slices of foil-wrapped pizza.  You never know what the TSA is going to find objectionable.  They may have thought I was going to burn through the cockpit doors with scalding hot pizza sauce.

After enjoying “For Those About to Rock” while landing in Detroit, I was somewhat alarmed when my MP3 player cued up Elton John’s “Funeral for a Friend,” taxied to take off.  Sounded like a bad omen to me, but luckily, I had the correct ball cap on, to counteract the mojo.

Winging my way back home.

Once again, many thanks to my buddies for the hospitality and putting up with my BS for a week.  Until we meat again…