They say smells can trigger memories that are more powerful and vivid than the usual ones.
Walking down stairs today at work, I must have smelled something - no clue what - that took me back about 50 years - yep maybe 50.
Let's go back to the days of "I like Ike", those sentimental 50s.
Even a big city like Dallas didn't have shopping malls. We had some neighborhood shopping centers - populated by an A&P, a drugstore (where you could sit at the counter and order dinner, lunch - whatever), a shoe store (where I ended up working during college) and S.S. Kresge but nothing like the large complexes of today. And you had to park somewhere and walk outside to each store and then out again to the next. Imagine that!
Dallas had a big downtown area where the upper-class stores and hotels were kept. A Sanger store which later became Sanger-Harris. Neiman-Marcus. Funny but in more than 20 years of living in Dallas I never once went into Neiman-Marcus. I finally visited a few years ago but by then it was just another multi-level department store that seemed to have an abundance of make-up counters.
But a mile or so south of downtown in a more industrial part of the city, stood a mammoth reddish-brick building. It was called Sears & Roebuck. And for reasons incomprehensible today, it was only open late on Thursday nights. It may have been open on Monday evenings too but I'm not sure of that.
It seems like we went there often on Thursdays. Probably once a month at least. My memory of those visits was triggered today by some smell. My favorite part of those visits was the candy counter. One of those where you bought candy by the ounce. You could get almost anything you wanted but my favorite were peanut clusters. Those chunks of melted and then re-hardened chocolate wrapped around peanuts. I was usually allowed to buy 25 cents worth which in the pre-inflation 50s got me 2,3 or sometimes 4 pieces of candy! For a young man of less than 10 years this was wonderful! I didn't get much in the way of treats or candy. Not sure if it was for health reasons or simply we didn't have that much money. But I could almost always count on peanut clusters at Sears & Roebucks. It wasn't just Sears back then.
Can you imagine any kid of today waxing nostalgic for Wal Mart in 50 years?
Friday, April 27, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Cars
I’ve never been much of a car guy but yet I can remember almost every car I’ve ever owned. So here’s the rundown.
1969 – a 63 Chevy Impala 2 door – not bad. Gas was so cheap back then I don’t know if it guzzled or not.
1970 – a 64 Dodge dart – not my choice. My dad bought it for me. The 63 Chevy was really his but I got to use it for a year or so. Most distinctive thing was a slant six (back then) and the automatic shift was a lever on the dash.
1971 – a 65 Mustang. Not as good as it sounds. 6 cyl. so wouldn’t get up and go. Also prone to some sort of vapor lock in the hot Texas summers. Also no buckets but a strange sort of bench seat in the front.
1972 – a 69 Triumph Spitfire. Again not a great as it sounds. Interior was a shambles and I had no money to fix it up. Ended up spray painting my carpets black to hide the wear. Rag-top was a pain to take down and put up. But it was great fun and this car has the distinction of being the fastest one I ever drove. Once on a road coming back home late at night from school in Arlington (U.T.A.) I hit the 90s. Thought we were going to achieve some sort of lift off and actually fly a bit!
My dad liked to tinker and work on this one. The hood was like a Corvette's where it lifts as one piece (hood, fenders – everything) from the window to expose the entire engine. My dad could sit up in there and work on the 2 – count ‘em – two double-barrel carbs.
1973 a 71 VW bug. Pretty OK as they go. Learned how to adjust the lifters or valves or something that always needed adjusting. My dad did NOT like to work on this one. As this will become a recurring theme in our family, sometime in 74 or 75 I hit a large German Shepherd dog while going about 70 at nightime near Tyler Texas. My friend and I both slammed into the dash and somehow only bruised our arms and shins. The dog fared much worse. The VW was never the same either but I continued to drive it for several more years. Amazing that with a VW with almost no protection in the front, I hit a dog at 70mph and live to tell about it and drive the car home. Years later a similar incident with a Chevy Cavalier will total that car. They truly don't make 'em like they used to.
1979 married now so thinking differently about cars. Also can’t just trade them off so easily. Car – a brand spanking new Toyota Corolla. 2 – door. Shoulda sprung for the extra to put AC in it. Summers in Virginia are hot and humid. Best thing about this car – I paid somewhere around $3,600 for it. Two years later I sold it to a guy for $4,000. Can’t do that anymore. But then 80s inflation wasn't much fun either.
1980 First second car. My wife was working and we needed to both have wheels. 1980 Toyota Tercel. Another great little car but once again too cheap to buy AC. Drove this one into the ground for more than 10 years.
1983 First daughter arrives and we need something to handle a car seat so – (forgive me) we got a used Dodge. It was one of their K cars that made such a splash and then later almost killed the company. Didn’t keep this one very long.
1985 Brand spanking new Ford Tempo. Why you ask? Cheap and 4 door and we could afford AC. We had 2 kids by now. Also miserly with gas.
1991 Finally had to trade in the Tercel on another Ford Tempo – this time a 91 program version. Another 4 door with AC. We drove this one well over 100K miles before we had to get rid of it. Have you ever tried to sell or trade a 4 cyl. with perhaps 150K miles? Good luck.
1991 or 1992 Car #3 for short while. Only this one was a truck. We were farmers (almost) and you gotta have a truck. Traded in the 85 Tempo later. This was a modified F-250 that somehow had a 6 cyl. And it ate starters. I replaced two. Finally years later (2001 or 2) I gave this one away. I could only start it if it was on a hill (or with a hefty push) and that became less and less practical.
1996 We joined the mini-van ranks with a big 95 Ford Aerostar. Served us well until the transmission about fell out but we got well over 100K.
1999 Bought a new 1999 red Chevy cavalier - 2 dr. good little car until my daughter lost control on a wet and curvy road. She spun out, ended up going backwards in a ditch and pretty much wiped out the car. She got bruised and banged up - as much from the airbag deploying as anything else. Scared her pretty bad too but no serious in juries.
2000 Small truck time. Not really farmers at this point but everybody needs a truck. Little GMC Sonoma. Nice gas mileage and handy. My daughter took this one over and paid it off and it is still doing fine with more than 150K miles.
2000-1 somewhere in here we buy another Chevy cavalier to replace the totalled red one. Why a Cavalier? Not a bad little cheap car with good gas mileage. But I need to stay away from Cavaliers. Sometime in 03 or 04 I hit a big dog and damaged this one but didn't total it. But within another year or so daughter #2 hits a Rottweiler and most definitely DOES total it this time. What does she buy to replace it? An 03 Cav that she still drives and is in her name and paid for.
2001 Another mini-van to replace the dead Aerostar. A 2000 Pontiac Montana. OK but always seemed to have problems with the automatic sliding door. But would’ve kept this one except the March 2006 tornado wiped it out.
2004 Big truck time. Also big mistake. Bought a used 91 Ford F250. Body pretty rusty and beat up. Ended up putting new brakes all around, complete exhaust system and four new tires. So by this time I have more in that stuff than I do in the truck itself. But still running and serving as a farm truck, gets the kids to school, pulls trailers full of sheep and hay. But something about Fords – this one eats starters too.
2006 Where are we today? 2003 Dodge Caravan. Probably the nicest car we have ever owned. Looks and rides pretty new. Although as I write this it is having new brakes put on the front but that is pretty routine stuff.
So there’s my car history in a nutshell.
What do I want next? Two things – a Ford F250 Quad cab (4 door) and an Austin mini. Go figure. One is practical and will pull anything. The other is absolutely frivolous. Everyone I tell thinks a mini is a chick-car and since I heard that – all I see driving them are girls. But my masculinity is not threatened so if I ever win the lottery or something you’ll see me in one.
1969 – a 63 Chevy Impala 2 door – not bad. Gas was so cheap back then I don’t know if it guzzled or not.
1970 – a 64 Dodge dart – not my choice. My dad bought it for me. The 63 Chevy was really his but I got to use it for a year or so. Most distinctive thing was a slant six (back then) and the automatic shift was a lever on the dash.
1971 – a 65 Mustang. Not as good as it sounds. 6 cyl. so wouldn’t get up and go. Also prone to some sort of vapor lock in the hot Texas summers. Also no buckets but a strange sort of bench seat in the front.
1972 – a 69 Triumph Spitfire. Again not a great as it sounds. Interior was a shambles and I had no money to fix it up. Ended up spray painting my carpets black to hide the wear. Rag-top was a pain to take down and put up. But it was great fun and this car has the distinction of being the fastest one I ever drove. Once on a road coming back home late at night from school in Arlington (U.T.A.) I hit the 90s. Thought we were going to achieve some sort of lift off and actually fly a bit!
My dad liked to tinker and work on this one. The hood was like a Corvette's where it lifts as one piece (hood, fenders – everything) from the window to expose the entire engine. My dad could sit up in there and work on the 2 – count ‘em – two double-barrel carbs.
1973 a 71 VW bug. Pretty OK as they go. Learned how to adjust the lifters or valves or something that always needed adjusting. My dad did NOT like to work on this one. As this will become a recurring theme in our family, sometime in 74 or 75 I hit a large German Shepherd dog while going about 70 at nightime near Tyler Texas. My friend and I both slammed into the dash and somehow only bruised our arms and shins. The dog fared much worse. The VW was never the same either but I continued to drive it for several more years. Amazing that with a VW with almost no protection in the front, I hit a dog at 70mph and live to tell about it and drive the car home. Years later a similar incident with a Chevy Cavalier will total that car. They truly don't make 'em like they used to.
1979 married now so thinking differently about cars. Also can’t just trade them off so easily. Car – a brand spanking new Toyota Corolla. 2 – door. Shoulda sprung for the extra to put AC in it. Summers in Virginia are hot and humid. Best thing about this car – I paid somewhere around $3,600 for it. Two years later I sold it to a guy for $4,000. Can’t do that anymore. But then 80s inflation wasn't much fun either.
1980 First second car. My wife was working and we needed to both have wheels. 1980 Toyota Tercel. Another great little car but once again too cheap to buy AC. Drove this one into the ground for more than 10 years.
1983 First daughter arrives and we need something to handle a car seat so – (forgive me) we got a used Dodge. It was one of their K cars that made such a splash and then later almost killed the company. Didn’t keep this one very long.
1985 Brand spanking new Ford Tempo. Why you ask? Cheap and 4 door and we could afford AC. We had 2 kids by now. Also miserly with gas.
1991 Finally had to trade in the Tercel on another Ford Tempo – this time a 91 program version. Another 4 door with AC. We drove this one well over 100K miles before we had to get rid of it. Have you ever tried to sell or trade a 4 cyl. with perhaps 150K miles? Good luck.
1991 or 1992 Car #3 for short while. Only this one was a truck. We were farmers (almost) and you gotta have a truck. Traded in the 85 Tempo later. This was a modified F-250 that somehow had a 6 cyl. And it ate starters. I replaced two. Finally years later (2001 or 2) I gave this one away. I could only start it if it was on a hill (or with a hefty push) and that became less and less practical.
1996 We joined the mini-van ranks with a big 95 Ford Aerostar. Served us well until the transmission about fell out but we got well over 100K.
1999 Bought a new 1999 red Chevy cavalier - 2 dr. good little car until my daughter lost control on a wet and curvy road. She spun out, ended up going backwards in a ditch and pretty much wiped out the car. She got bruised and banged up - as much from the airbag deploying as anything else. Scared her pretty bad too but no serious in juries.
2000 Small truck time. Not really farmers at this point but everybody needs a truck. Little GMC Sonoma. Nice gas mileage and handy. My daughter took this one over and paid it off and it is still doing fine with more than 150K miles.
2000-1 somewhere in here we buy another Chevy cavalier to replace the totalled red one. Why a Cavalier? Not a bad little cheap car with good gas mileage. But I need to stay away from Cavaliers. Sometime in 03 or 04 I hit a big dog and damaged this one but didn't total it. But within another year or so daughter #2 hits a Rottweiler and most definitely DOES total it this time. What does she buy to replace it? An 03 Cav that she still drives and is in her name and paid for.
2001 Another mini-van to replace the dead Aerostar. A 2000 Pontiac Montana. OK but always seemed to have problems with the automatic sliding door. But would’ve kept this one except the March 2006 tornado wiped it out.
2004 Big truck time. Also big mistake. Bought a used 91 Ford F250. Body pretty rusty and beat up. Ended up putting new brakes all around, complete exhaust system and four new tires. So by this time I have more in that stuff than I do in the truck itself. But still running and serving as a farm truck, gets the kids to school, pulls trailers full of sheep and hay. But something about Fords – this one eats starters too.
2006 Where are we today? 2003 Dodge Caravan. Probably the nicest car we have ever owned. Looks and rides pretty new. Although as I write this it is having new brakes put on the front but that is pretty routine stuff.
So there’s my car history in a nutshell.
What do I want next? Two things – a Ford F250 Quad cab (4 door) and an Austin mini. Go figure. One is practical and will pull anything. The other is absolutely frivolous. Everyone I tell thinks a mini is a chick-car and since I heard that – all I see driving them are girls. But my masculinity is not threatened so if I ever win the lottery or something you’ll see me in one.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Snipers and other bad people
I have no real substance to add to the media onslaught re: the tragedies at Va. Tech. But as someone who spent about 12 years in Virginia (may be my favorite state still) and I’ll bet I have friends who have kids at Va. Tech, I’ll make just a couple of comments.
When I was younger, I remember the sniper who made it up the tower at UT Austin and proceeded to shoot and kill a bunch of people. I don’t remember much else and suppose I could Google that but so can you.
I’ve worked on two college campuses and attended on two more in my lifetime and no matter what, I doubt there is any way such a tragic thing could be prevented.
No offense to anyone ay Columbine but a high-school would be much easier to secure. People come and go and certain times. People tend to be of a certain group and age. The limited security people can usually spot someone who may not belong and since Columbine most school systems have beefed up their on site security.
But a college campus is an entirely different animal. While classes run on schedules, people come and go at all hours of the day and night. And while the overarching demographic might skew young, there is much more diversity on almost any college campus. Plus you have buildings spread out over large areas. I thought I heard something like several hundred acres for Va. Tech. I know our large state university here runs 10 or more blocks deep and wide.
I imagine there will be a reaction and schools – at the parents behest – will have to hire more security, more IDs, more card keys to get into and out of buildings, more surveillance cameras – all the very things that institutions of higher learning - which tend toward honoring and revering our First Amendment to a fault sometimes – will also react against. A very long sentence but my point is that the things that will make a campus safer will only stifle some of the freedoms that students and faculty have come to enjoy on college campuses.
Balance is an overused word but somehow in the reaction to all this, there will have to be some sort of balanced response. Increased security; yes. But a realization that no matter what you do, bad people will find a way to do bad things. People will snap and in the right or wrong circumstances, wreak havoc on their surroundings.
I read Andy Whitman’s blog a few times a week – he is a music critic for Paste Magazine and today he has some good responses to the event. He has a daughter at Kent State – oh my, remember that one? – so he is a concerned parent but also at the end of it all – we just need to pray for the families of the injured and dead.
So that is what I will try to do.
When I was younger, I remember the sniper who made it up the tower at UT Austin and proceeded to shoot and kill a bunch of people. I don’t remember much else and suppose I could Google that but so can you.
I’ve worked on two college campuses and attended on two more in my lifetime and no matter what, I doubt there is any way such a tragic thing could be prevented.
No offense to anyone ay Columbine but a high-school would be much easier to secure. People come and go and certain times. People tend to be of a certain group and age. The limited security people can usually spot someone who may not belong and since Columbine most school systems have beefed up their on site security.
But a college campus is an entirely different animal. While classes run on schedules, people come and go at all hours of the day and night. And while the overarching demographic might skew young, there is much more diversity on almost any college campus. Plus you have buildings spread out over large areas. I thought I heard something like several hundred acres for Va. Tech. I know our large state university here runs 10 or more blocks deep and wide.
I imagine there will be a reaction and schools – at the parents behest – will have to hire more security, more IDs, more card keys to get into and out of buildings, more surveillance cameras – all the very things that institutions of higher learning - which tend toward honoring and revering our First Amendment to a fault sometimes – will also react against. A very long sentence but my point is that the things that will make a campus safer will only stifle some of the freedoms that students and faculty have come to enjoy on college campuses.
Balance is an overused word but somehow in the reaction to all this, there will have to be some sort of balanced response. Increased security; yes. But a realization that no matter what you do, bad people will find a way to do bad things. People will snap and in the right or wrong circumstances, wreak havoc on their surroundings.
I read Andy Whitman’s blog a few times a week – he is a music critic for Paste Magazine and today he has some good responses to the event. He has a daughter at Kent State – oh my, remember that one? – so he is a concerned parent but also at the end of it all – we just need to pray for the families of the injured and dead.
So that is what I will try to do.
Weaknesses
A couple of things happened to me last week that point out two of my inherent weaknesses.
So in the interest of full disclosure; here they are:
I don’t like confrontations.
I don’t like to bother people or maybe put better, I don’t want to be a bother to anybody.
Back to last week. I was working on an outside (meaning not for my day job) project for College of the Ozarks. I’m editing a video made of the President speaking to a group of students. For reasons I won’t go into nor for which I know the whole truth and nothing but the truth so … I’ll skip over that part. To try to help this thing along I needed some pictures. There are times in this video when I really don’t have a shot to go to – the shots are either out of focus or both cameras are moving. There are some specific references that lend themselves to showing a related picture. So I went on a hunt for pictures. This led me back to campus to see what I could find.
Fast forward. I ended up in a short meeting with the President and our discussion gave me great insight into what he had done, why and that my suggestion of a “do-over”, was not going to fly. But my point here is that in 15 minutes I solved so many of my problems. I would never have done this without some prodding. I’d have felt like I was being a bother. But others – in this case – my wife, a staff person on campus and a friend very familiar with the school, all pushed me to do something. And the result was good. I just wish I could remember this whenever I shy away from stuff.
This hit me last year with the tornado recovery too. As devastating as the tornado was, I was ready to single-handedly tackle getting things put back together. I had no real clue how but I started making lists: do this today and then this and then this tomorrow. After about one day of this a friend of my daughters; actually our family’s too but I really didn’t know him well. He stopped by to see what he could do and in so many words told me that I needed to just step back and let people help us – help me. Most of my being recoiled at this idea. Somehow admitting I needed help (which I really did) was an admission of weakness when really my real weakness was in letting my pride in this case at least, get in the way of letting other people bless us. And bless us they did.
If it weren’t for the help of dozens of folks, we might still be digging out and cutting up fallen down trees etc.
Now on the confrontation issue, I am loath to confront people. What happens over the long haul is this begins to create a certain level of expectation. Which only makes it harder to ever (finally) stand up and do the right thing and essentially tell somebody off, or let them know they can’t continue to do whatever it is that they are doing. This is particularly significant at work where I think I’ve been too nice for too long and have let people take advantage of that. When I reach the end of my tolerance for certain things, it is very hard to shift gears and convince people I finally mean business and to be taken seriously. This happens with your kids too as I’m learning the second time around as a parent. If you let patterns get established, they are harder and harder to break later on.
So somewhat late in the year and late in the game as an adult and parent and boss etc. I plan to resolve to work on these two things.
So in the interest of full disclosure; here they are:
I don’t like confrontations.
I don’t like to bother people or maybe put better, I don’t want to be a bother to anybody.
Back to last week. I was working on an outside (meaning not for my day job) project for College of the Ozarks. I’m editing a video made of the President speaking to a group of students. For reasons I won’t go into nor for which I know the whole truth and nothing but the truth so … I’ll skip over that part. To try to help this thing along I needed some pictures. There are times in this video when I really don’t have a shot to go to – the shots are either out of focus or both cameras are moving. There are some specific references that lend themselves to showing a related picture. So I went on a hunt for pictures. This led me back to campus to see what I could find.
Fast forward. I ended up in a short meeting with the President and our discussion gave me great insight into what he had done, why and that my suggestion of a “do-over”, was not going to fly. But my point here is that in 15 minutes I solved so many of my problems. I would never have done this without some prodding. I’d have felt like I was being a bother. But others – in this case – my wife, a staff person on campus and a friend very familiar with the school, all pushed me to do something. And the result was good. I just wish I could remember this whenever I shy away from stuff.
This hit me last year with the tornado recovery too. As devastating as the tornado was, I was ready to single-handedly tackle getting things put back together. I had no real clue how but I started making lists: do this today and then this and then this tomorrow. After about one day of this a friend of my daughters; actually our family’s too but I really didn’t know him well. He stopped by to see what he could do and in so many words told me that I needed to just step back and let people help us – help me. Most of my being recoiled at this idea. Somehow admitting I needed help (which I really did) was an admission of weakness when really my real weakness was in letting my pride in this case at least, get in the way of letting other people bless us. And bless us they did.
If it weren’t for the help of dozens of folks, we might still be digging out and cutting up fallen down trees etc.
Now on the confrontation issue, I am loath to confront people. What happens over the long haul is this begins to create a certain level of expectation. Which only makes it harder to ever (finally) stand up and do the right thing and essentially tell somebody off, or let them know they can’t continue to do whatever it is that they are doing. This is particularly significant at work where I think I’ve been too nice for too long and have let people take advantage of that. When I reach the end of my tolerance for certain things, it is very hard to shift gears and convince people I finally mean business and to be taken seriously. This happens with your kids too as I’m learning the second time around as a parent. If you let patterns get established, they are harder and harder to break later on.
So somewhat late in the year and late in the game as an adult and parent and boss etc. I plan to resolve to work on these two things.
Post versus the Times
Today I had to order some equipment for my day job and this put me on the phone with B&H Photo in New York. They are one of the biggest so-called “box-houses” for video gear anywhere. And in this case they were the low bidder.
After punching in who knows how many different #s to get to the right department I ended up on the phone with a real live person.
A very nice young man. While he was processing my order he asked where Missouri was. He said he meant to ask where Springfield was but he was new in the country and still learning about all 50 states.
Several times he mentioned that he was from Israel or that he was an Israeli.
After I told him where Springfield was he asked if we had a baseball team. I mentioned the Cardinals and of course our minor league Springfield Cardinals. He had just read an article about the size in dollar amounts of various baseball teams. Seems the Yankees are a $1.2 billion/year enterprise. We talked about A-Rod (10 homers already? Wow!)
For some reason I asked what paper he was reading: I said “Times or Post?” And he said Post. He then went on to say (again) that as an Israeli, he found the Post to be more pro-Jewish.
Funny but while I read the NY Times front page on-line every day to get the international headlines, I’ve never looked a the Post and from my naïve Missouri POV, would never have thought to think that one of those papers would be more pro – or anti – Jewish in their journalism.
I guess here in our very white waspy community, those type of considerations would just never come up. We talk about our local paper’s biases but it is usually a conservative v. liberal and now Libertarian thing.
After punching in who knows how many different #s to get to the right department I ended up on the phone with a real live person.
A very nice young man. While he was processing my order he asked where Missouri was. He said he meant to ask where Springfield was but he was new in the country and still learning about all 50 states.
Several times he mentioned that he was from Israel or that he was an Israeli.
After I told him where Springfield was he asked if we had a baseball team. I mentioned the Cardinals and of course our minor league Springfield Cardinals. He had just read an article about the size in dollar amounts of various baseball teams. Seems the Yankees are a $1.2 billion/year enterprise. We talked about A-Rod (10 homers already? Wow!)
For some reason I asked what paper he was reading: I said “Times or Post?” And he said Post. He then went on to say (again) that as an Israeli, he found the Post to be more pro-Jewish.
Funny but while I read the NY Times front page on-line every day to get the international headlines, I’ve never looked a the Post and from my naïve Missouri POV, would never have thought to think that one of those papers would be more pro – or anti – Jewish in their journalism.
I guess here in our very white waspy community, those type of considerations would just never come up. We talk about our local paper’s biases but it is usually a conservative v. liberal and now Libertarian thing.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Has 24 Jumped the Shark yet?
I love this program most of the time. Lots of bang-bang shoot-em-up entertainment. But I'm wondering about this year. I'm sure this is a hard show to do and write but it seems like they ran out of steam. If you watch and follow along, America has been saved from terrorists and suitcase nukes. Jack has almost singlehandedly killed off the baddies and not lost any limbs yet. Although there has been the almost obligatory amputation. It would have been hard to stretch out the hunt for the nukes for 6 more episodes/hours. But to take the twist and have Jack start on basically a brand new direction - OK it is his former love interest and he does have the circuit boards that in theory might still arm a bomb - assuming someone has another floating around somewhere. But unless the writerss start connecting lots of dots soon...
Where did Jean Smart go? Her weasel husband Logan? He was actually starting to become a real person then she stabs him. When is Jack's daughter going to turn up? She's overdue.
I told a co-worker several weeks ago that Jack would probably be looking for Audrey next year or on the next day or whatever 24 time really is. I guess they just got there early.
I have no doubt Jack will rescue Audrey, manage to keep the nuclear secrets out of the hands of the Chinese and live happily ever-after.
I'm also tired of the on-again, off-again thing in the White House between Wayne Palmer - who while a decent character has never been presidential and Powers Boothe who is much better as the bad veep. But they needed someone else in the Pres. role. More gravitas or something.
And poor Christy McNichol's brother just can't decide if he wants to be a bad guy with a conscience or a wimpy, weasily good guy. He needs to take the tape, copy it and put it someplace safe OUTSIDE the White House. You just know the Veep will confiscate it and we'll have to wait and see if a copy was made.
Stay tuned.
Where did Jean Smart go? Her weasel husband Logan? He was actually starting to become a real person then she stabs him. When is Jack's daughter going to turn up? She's overdue.
I told a co-worker several weeks ago that Jack would probably be looking for Audrey next year or on the next day or whatever 24 time really is. I guess they just got there early.
I have no doubt Jack will rescue Audrey, manage to keep the nuclear secrets out of the hands of the Chinese and live happily ever-after.
I'm also tired of the on-again, off-again thing in the White House between Wayne Palmer - who while a decent character has never been presidential and Powers Boothe who is much better as the bad veep. But they needed someone else in the Pres. role. More gravitas or something.
And poor Christy McNichol's brother just can't decide if he wants to be a bad guy with a conscience or a wimpy, weasily good guy. He needs to take the tape, copy it and put it someplace safe OUTSIDE the White House. You just know the Veep will confiscate it and we'll have to wait and see if a copy was made.
Stay tuned.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Piling on
I’ll join the chorus of the many who’ve decried the racially inappropriate remarks made by mega-radio host Don Imus last week (or the week before last.)
And I won’t defend for one moment what he said, what caused him to say it or even that it seems he was baited by his producer with a leading and very similar remark.
Some of my questions and comments are no longer new since columnist Cal Thomas has weighed in but in case you don’t read him …
If you’ve been a listener of Imus for any length of time, you have to know that neither he nor his staff are going to be politically correct about almost anything. They lampoon numerous public figures from Ted Kennedy to New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin. They pick on almost every religion and especially Catholics with the Cardinal Egan skits.
My wife made a very important distinction in this. Most of those that Imus makes fun of are public figures. Some ridicule goes (or comes) with the territory. But the Rutgers basketball team are not quite public personae yet – once they hit the WBA or whatever league is still around by then – then they will but until …
No one is safe on Imus. How do I know? I’ve been listening for several years. Let’s backtrack. I used to listen regularly in the late 90s but then it seemed that the humor got more and more sexual, more off-color etc. so I quit listening for a while.
Then of all things 9/11 happened and for some reason I was listening that day and heard his guest Warner Wolf talk about the noises he heard from his south Manhattan residence. No need to rehash the rest of that day. But just like everybody recalls where they were when JFK was shot, I think most of this generation will measure things by where they were on 9/11/01.
And from that day on I noticed a change in Imus (for awhile.) It seemed like everybody grew up a little. The guests got more serious. More Tom Friedman. More heavy-weight politicos. So between about 7:25 and 7:50 I became an almost regular. If he was talking sports or his latest crusade to clean up your home from things that may cause autism, Cardinal Egan skits and the like, I turned the dial. But if he had Harold Ford on? Heck even though he is a democrat from Tennessee, I’d probably vote for him for something.
I guess part of my question is where were all the detractors during the many years of Imus’ reign? And I recall something that I’ll bet few people (except my wife) remember from the 80s. Imus was one of the early VJs on VH1. He looked old and about to die back then but the memory related to Michael Jackson. What I recall is him having a Michael Jackson doll (that in and of itself is a scary thought!) and sticking it with large pins as if it were a so-called voodoo doll. In those days MTV (sister or brother of VH1) was considered racist because in the pre-rap days, they didn’t air much of anything by African-American artists.
My point is several-fold. I don’t know the heart of the man. And judge not lest you be … you know. But I think there may have been more than a pattern of subtle and even overt racism in his past and present.
He has apologized to the team. They accepted. One more place he needs to go. His ranch and those kids. I read today that he may have trouble finding future funding for the Imus Ranch for Kids with Cancer because of his problems. Way too bad for them. Imus will recover and if Howard Stern can find life on Sirius satellite radio, there is still a future for Imus.
But Cal Thomas points out bigger problems and double standards. You need to read his column of April 16 (go here) but he points out that one of Imus’s detractors was none other than Jesse Jackson of the infamous “Hymietown” episode some years back. And if memory serves the Rev. Al Sharpton was involved in something with a young lady named Tawana Brawley. If using a young black woman to advance yourself or your agenda is not racist, then what is or isn’t?
Mr. Thomas points out the racism and misogyny in much of rap and hip-hop music but it seems perfectly OK for those involved to make their millions at the possible expense of those of their own race.
I’ve probably added little to the discussion but if I made you think or go read Cal Thomas, then it was worth it.
And I won’t defend for one moment what he said, what caused him to say it or even that it seems he was baited by his producer with a leading and very similar remark.
Some of my questions and comments are no longer new since columnist Cal Thomas has weighed in but in case you don’t read him …
If you’ve been a listener of Imus for any length of time, you have to know that neither he nor his staff are going to be politically correct about almost anything. They lampoon numerous public figures from Ted Kennedy to New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin. They pick on almost every religion and especially Catholics with the Cardinal Egan skits.
My wife made a very important distinction in this. Most of those that Imus makes fun of are public figures. Some ridicule goes (or comes) with the territory. But the Rutgers basketball team are not quite public personae yet – once they hit the WBA or whatever league is still around by then – then they will but until …
No one is safe on Imus. How do I know? I’ve been listening for several years. Let’s backtrack. I used to listen regularly in the late 90s but then it seemed that the humor got more and more sexual, more off-color etc. so I quit listening for a while.
Then of all things 9/11 happened and for some reason I was listening that day and heard his guest Warner Wolf talk about the noises he heard from his south Manhattan residence. No need to rehash the rest of that day. But just like everybody recalls where they were when JFK was shot, I think most of this generation will measure things by where they were on 9/11/01.
And from that day on I noticed a change in Imus (for awhile.) It seemed like everybody grew up a little. The guests got more serious. More Tom Friedman. More heavy-weight politicos. So between about 7:25 and 7:50 I became an almost regular. If he was talking sports or his latest crusade to clean up your home from things that may cause autism, Cardinal Egan skits and the like, I turned the dial. But if he had Harold Ford on? Heck even though he is a democrat from Tennessee, I’d probably vote for him for something.
I guess part of my question is where were all the detractors during the many years of Imus’ reign? And I recall something that I’ll bet few people (except my wife) remember from the 80s. Imus was one of the early VJs on VH1. He looked old and about to die back then but the memory related to Michael Jackson. What I recall is him having a Michael Jackson doll (that in and of itself is a scary thought!) and sticking it with large pins as if it were a so-called voodoo doll. In those days MTV (sister or brother of VH1) was considered racist because in the pre-rap days, they didn’t air much of anything by African-American artists.
My point is several-fold. I don’t know the heart of the man. And judge not lest you be … you know. But I think there may have been more than a pattern of subtle and even overt racism in his past and present.
He has apologized to the team. They accepted. One more place he needs to go. His ranch and those kids. I read today that he may have trouble finding future funding for the Imus Ranch for Kids with Cancer because of his problems. Way too bad for them. Imus will recover and if Howard Stern can find life on Sirius satellite radio, there is still a future for Imus.
But Cal Thomas points out bigger problems and double standards. You need to read his column of April 16 (go here) but he points out that one of Imus’s detractors was none other than Jesse Jackson of the infamous “Hymietown” episode some years back. And if memory serves the Rev. Al Sharpton was involved in something with a young lady named Tawana Brawley. If using a young black woman to advance yourself or your agenda is not racist, then what is or isn’t?
Mr. Thomas points out the racism and misogyny in much of rap and hip-hop music but it seems perfectly OK for those involved to make their millions at the possible expense of those of their own race.
I’ve probably added little to the discussion but if I made you think or go read Cal Thomas, then it was worth it.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Ozzie and Harriet
Too often these days the phrase "Ozzie and Harriet" is used as a perjorative to describe a days-gone-by era when if we weren't doing "duck-and-cover" we had our heads in the sand. I was raised watching "Ozzie and Harriet" and wouldn't mind a bit going back to those halcyon days. I'm partly a child of the 50s and partly of the 60s. If I had to vote - give me 60s music but I'll take the 50s please for most things.
I can't explain why but I often read the fine print (if you don't believe me ask my wife about any time we have to sign big stacks of documents!) and I often read stuff for no reason.
I got a free subscription to Daily Variety. For no other real reason other than I could and it allows me to sort of follow Hollywood business goings-on. Today I got one and in the back there is a huge (6X8 inches) ad labelled: Notification of Disposition of Collateral on page 23 of the March 23 edition (I guess free subs get sent via slow mail service.) For some unexplainable reason I started reading the ad. I guess I wanted to see just what was being disposed of that required such a big ad in Variety.
About 2/3 of the way down in the first paragraph begins a list of TV shows and similar entertainment properties. I guess someone went bankrupt and the lien holders want to sell off some of these assets to recover their investment.
Item # VI is Conan the Barbarian. Didn't Arnold the governator play in that? Surprised he hasn't jumped up to buy it back.
But the one that caught my roving eye was item XVIII: Ozzie and Harriet. I couldn't believe it. If I worked for Nick at Nite or TV Land, I'd be snatching this one up in a New York Minute. I'm half tempted to bid myself just to own this little slice of Americana.
The items can be bid for as a group or individually. So if anyone wants to partner with me and bid on Ozzie and Harriet - please comment. It doesn't say how many episodes or where the films or kinescopes or whatever are stored and in what condition but hey - it's Ozzie and Harriet! The bidding closes April 18 so time is short.
I can't explain why but I often read the fine print (if you don't believe me ask my wife about any time we have to sign big stacks of documents!) and I often read stuff for no reason.
I got a free subscription to Daily Variety. For no other real reason other than I could and it allows me to sort of follow Hollywood business goings-on. Today I got one and in the back there is a huge (6X8 inches) ad labelled: Notification of Disposition of Collateral on page 23 of the March 23 edition (I guess free subs get sent via slow mail service.) For some unexplainable reason I started reading the ad. I guess I wanted to see just what was being disposed of that required such a big ad in Variety.
About 2/3 of the way down in the first paragraph begins a list of TV shows and similar entertainment properties. I guess someone went bankrupt and the lien holders want to sell off some of these assets to recover their investment.
Item # VI is Conan the Barbarian. Didn't Arnold the governator play in that? Surprised he hasn't jumped up to buy it back.
But the one that caught my roving eye was item XVIII: Ozzie and Harriet. I couldn't believe it. If I worked for Nick at Nite or TV Land, I'd be snatching this one up in a New York Minute. I'm half tempted to bid myself just to own this little slice of Americana.
The items can be bid for as a group or individually. So if anyone wants to partner with me and bid on Ozzie and Harriet - please comment. It doesn't say how many episodes or where the films or kinescopes or whatever are stored and in what condition but hey - it's Ozzie and Harriet! The bidding closes April 18 so time is short.
Just Country
Got a neat surprise this Easter Sunday – a cousin (and his wife and her sister) from Arkansas paid us a visit. Seems they were in Branson (for what else?) and thought it would be a shame to be so close (45 minutes or so) and not drop by. So they did and we had a good Easter dinner and nice chat.
My cousin said something that caught me off-guard. We were talking about family (and I won’t mention any names) and he said we weren’t like everybody else; we were “country.” His word. Now I take that as a compliment and he meant it as one but albeit an unusual one.
When I was a kid and really for most of my formative years, I was a City-boy. Whenever we’d visit my “country cousins” I always felt a little out-of-place. When I was very young things mostly scared me. Snakes, dogs, outhouses. When I got older, things mostly were just not me. I liked my air conditioning and indoor plumbing. At school we always talked (and not in a nice way) about the ‘kickers’ and ‘ropers’ in the more rural schools. Being seen inside the City limits in an FFA jacket was the 60s equivalent in Dallas of wearing the wrong colors in a LA neighborhood. (Though secretly I really liked the jean jackets with the bright gold embroidery on the back.)
I always liked my Arkansas cousins but they were several years older than me and when I was a pre-teen, they were teens and no self-respecting teen was going to spend time me. Except I do recall my cousin Diane taking me to the Dairy Mart (or whatever the local version of Dairy Queen was in their very small town.) When I was a teen, they were married with little kids of their own. Like I said; not real close.
But a funny thing happens when you grow up. For one we live in the country now. We raise sheep. I work outside a lot. I’m not afraid to get a little (you know what) on my boots. Did I say boots? Yep. Cowboy boots. Three pair of them. A pair of dressy black Ariats, a nice sort of go-to-work-in-the-city brown Tony Lama's and a really scuffed pair of work-boots.
Some of my family have become country music fans. I like some of it but I’m still at my core a jazz fan but pretty eclectic overall in my musical tastes. We go to rodeos regularly.
So I guess I find it odd that since during most of the times my cousin knew me or saw me I was probably either a scared city-slicker or in my “could care less” teens; that now of all people he sees me as someone he can relate to. And we do. We talk about animals, our relatives – whatever and our age difference (10 years) no longer is much of a barrier.
I have one grown daughter who has reverted to my genetic default I guess. She lives in the City and wants little if anything to do with our so-called “country life.” We happen to like lots of the same music and relate pretty well. But she’s going to be a full-blown city-dweller most of her life (unless she ends up in Telluride or Jackson Hole or someplace where the City and country and the west all sort of blend into something that doesn’t have a name – or maybe it does; countrypolitan.)
Until then she will turn up her nose and give us that look whenever she thinks we’ve gone too country. So between a cousin who thinks we’re doing alright and a daughter who rolls her eyes at some of our antics; I’m not sure where we fall but I’ll take ‘country’ any day.
My cousin said something that caught me off-guard. We were talking about family (and I won’t mention any names) and he said we weren’t like everybody else; we were “country.” His word. Now I take that as a compliment and he meant it as one but albeit an unusual one.
When I was a kid and really for most of my formative years, I was a City-boy. Whenever we’d visit my “country cousins” I always felt a little out-of-place. When I was very young things mostly scared me. Snakes, dogs, outhouses. When I got older, things mostly were just not me. I liked my air conditioning and indoor plumbing. At school we always talked (and not in a nice way) about the ‘kickers’ and ‘ropers’ in the more rural schools. Being seen inside the City limits in an FFA jacket was the 60s equivalent in Dallas of wearing the wrong colors in a LA neighborhood. (Though secretly I really liked the jean jackets with the bright gold embroidery on the back.)
I always liked my Arkansas cousins but they were several years older than me and when I was a pre-teen, they were teens and no self-respecting teen was going to spend time me. Except I do recall my cousin Diane taking me to the Dairy Mart (or whatever the local version of Dairy Queen was in their very small town.) When I was a teen, they were married with little kids of their own. Like I said; not real close.
But a funny thing happens when you grow up. For one we live in the country now. We raise sheep. I work outside a lot. I’m not afraid to get a little (you know what) on my boots. Did I say boots? Yep. Cowboy boots. Three pair of them. A pair of dressy black Ariats, a nice sort of go-to-work-in-the-city brown Tony Lama's and a really scuffed pair of work-boots.
Some of my family have become country music fans. I like some of it but I’m still at my core a jazz fan but pretty eclectic overall in my musical tastes. We go to rodeos regularly.
So I guess I find it odd that since during most of the times my cousin knew me or saw me I was probably either a scared city-slicker or in my “could care less” teens; that now of all people he sees me as someone he can relate to. And we do. We talk about animals, our relatives – whatever and our age difference (10 years) no longer is much of a barrier.
I have one grown daughter who has reverted to my genetic default I guess. She lives in the City and wants little if anything to do with our so-called “country life.” We happen to like lots of the same music and relate pretty well. But she’s going to be a full-blown city-dweller most of her life (unless she ends up in Telluride or Jackson Hole or someplace where the City and country and the west all sort of blend into something that doesn’t have a name – or maybe it does; countrypolitan.)
Until then she will turn up her nose and give us that look whenever she thinks we’ve gone too country. So between a cousin who thinks we’re doing alright and a daughter who rolls her eyes at some of our antics; I’m not sure where we fall but I’ll take ‘country’ any day.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Another minute or so of fame
Last night during our City Council meeting - I work at all of them - we had a sort of changing of the guard as three Council members left office and three new ones took the oath of office. A small thing was planned to say goodbye, hand out a plaque or two and take a short break to allows for some details such as changing out nameplates and some other small items.
One of these small things was simply changing names on the voting board. Simple enough. Except that the Asst. City Clerk, Anita, came in to ask for a screwdriver to speed along the process. Since we were on a short break I went out to help. Good enough until we started trying to slide in the new name plates into the old slots. (Can you spell new wine into old wineskins?) I guess the sign company that made the new ones made them just slightly thicker than the older ones because the new ones - especially one in particular - just didn't want to slide in. So we turned the voting board piece on its side and somewhere Anita came up with a high-heeled ladies shoe which she promptly turned into a hammer. She did quite well actually and the name slid into place.
But my point here is this: While we were tending to these piddly little details two photogs from two local TV stations and (unbeknownst to me) the still photographer from our local newspaper, focused their attention on us. There are at least six people in the room whose lives are going to be very different from this night on as they either end their segment of public service or begin a new time on City Council. But the media chose to focus on our pounding away with a shoe. Thinking back, no wonder Khrushchev got out his shoe at the United Nations back in the 1960 - he knew how to get attention.
Anyway for those who want to see, here's a link to the paper.
One of these small things was simply changing names on the voting board. Simple enough. Except that the Asst. City Clerk, Anita, came in to ask for a screwdriver to speed along the process. Since we were on a short break I went out to help. Good enough until we started trying to slide in the new name plates into the old slots. (Can you spell new wine into old wineskins?) I guess the sign company that made the new ones made them just slightly thicker than the older ones because the new ones - especially one in particular - just didn't want to slide in. So we turned the voting board piece on its side and somewhere Anita came up with a high-heeled ladies shoe which she promptly turned into a hammer. She did quite well actually and the name slid into place.
But my point here is this: While we were tending to these piddly little details two photogs from two local TV stations and (unbeknownst to me) the still photographer from our local newspaper, focused their attention on us. There are at least six people in the room whose lives are going to be very different from this night on as they either end their segment of public service or begin a new time on City Council. But the media chose to focus on our pounding away with a shoe. Thinking back, no wonder Khrushchev got out his shoe at the United Nations back in the 1960 - he knew how to get attention.
Anyway for those who want to see, here's a link to the paper.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
2 minutes of fame pix
It takes me awhile to do anything on the computer that involves pictures but a co-worker (thanks Nicole!) sent me some pictures from my circus experience. She was there with her child and saw me and happened to snap a few. So I put one in the original blog entry and the rest I'll put here so you can get the whole deal!
I should point out that I am the old guy in the blue plaid shirt.
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