Another One From the Vault

     I have a tendency to hang on to things that stir me within, occasionally during a bout of rummaging I’ll find them and read them once again. What follows is one of the many I've collected over the years. I found it a couple of days ago and gave it another read. Enjoy.

                                                                    

                                                                       

DISCOVERED HANGING IN A GHOST TOWN POST OFFICE IN THE MOJAVE DESERT

     Youth is not a time of life…it is a state of mind. It is not a matter of ripe cheeks, red lips, and supple knees. It is a temper of will, a quality of the imagination, vigor of the emotions. It is a freshness of the deep springs of life.

     Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity-of the appetite of adventure with the love of ease. This often exists in a man of 50, more than a boy of 20. Nobody grows old by living a number of years. People grow old by deserting their ideals, Years wrinkles the skin- but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear, and despair…these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust.

     Whether 6 or 60, there is in every being’s heart the love of wonder, the sweet amazement of the stars and the star like things and thoughts, the undaunted challenge of events-the unfailing child-like attitude for what is next…and the joy for the game of life.

     You are as young as your faith…as old as your doubt…as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fears, as young as your hope, and as old as your despair.

     In the central place of your heart, there is a wireless station. So long as it receives messages of beauty hope, cheer, grandeur, and power of form the earth, from men and from the infinite- just that long and no longer are you young.

     When the wires are all down - and all the central places of your heart are covered with snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism – then you grow old indeed.

                                                                     

I had an epiphany when I passed 30. Anyone who is alive is young. Namaste.

                                                                            

                                                               

                                                       

Horizon

On the road towards a vision, the end not in sight,

fighting fatigue I drove through the night.

The blacktop unending, its white line in spurts,

my eyes glaze over with a film of road dirt.

Over the flatlands with sweeping tall grass,

the horizon seems infinite, unending and vast.

Down the valleys both luscious and green,

through counties and cities most losing their sheen.

Over the mountains past boulders and curves,

Destination is certain, an arrival time not so sure.

Scorched by the desert with its stately cacti,

the horizon still beckons as it touches the sky.

Journey’s end comes of a morning while tired, and spent

asking is this trip’s inspiration really heaven sent?

Over breakfast and coffee I admire the view,

And wonder of discoveries as I plunge into the new.

(Found this among some of my scribbles, dated 1994. I wrote this not long after arriving in Arizona.)

A Stack of One

     

     There is an odd sort of kinship that exists among avid readers, and I count myself among both those groups;odd and an avid reader, a certified proud member of each group for many a year.  Many hard-core readers cannot let go of a good book we've read: it seems almost sacrilegious, like you are kicking a good friend out of the house. I considered myself among the keep every book group for quite a while until moving too many boxes of books too often lead to us finally parting ways. It dawned on me that I had so many I was using boxes of books for an end table or a night stand, and though it sure saved money on furniture here and there it didn't make a lot of sense keeping them all anymore. During one stretch I even had a stack holding up the broken corner of a waterbed pedestal, until the bed went to the best place for all waterbeds to go - to someone else’s house.  I’m sure if I had kept every book I had ever owned and read I would probably have at least one room in this house I could no longer use. I wonder how many books can fit in a 9’ x 10’ room with a 8’ ceiling and still allow you to open the door? Is anyone up for the challenge? Yeah, me neither.  I don’t keep a lot of books around anymore, most of them are specific niche type stuff, I have a few others that are out of print and several reference books, including an 1858 Webster’s Dictionary reprint and 1931 Webster’s unabridged edition that could inflict some damage if it was thrown at you; it weighs about 15 lbs. After being accustomed to having several hundred books stacked all around for so many years it feels like practically nothing.

     I began to use the local libraries quite a bit more after I moved here to Arizona.  We have some good ones locally, and they became a source of good free entertainment; a library card is free and I didn't have to find a lot of room for the few books I carted home, plus I discovered some authors I had never read before. The one drawback of course was dropping off the ones I had read, fully intent on not picking up more. Then I'd hear that little voice say “just take a quick look” to see if there is anything new, which inevitably lead to another stack going home under my arm; just like a kid in a penny candy store with a 5 dollar bill in his pocket.

     Books and reading were the catalysts to the prologue of my relationship with my wife. I happened upon her one day, just sitting on a bench, reading, in the smokers alley behind where we both used to work. I noticed she was reading one of P.N. Elrod's Vampire Files and mentioned I liked that series too. The conversation got around to authors and books we were both fans of, like Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Conan Doyle and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I thought I had overstepped my welcome when she told me that we shared a similar pet peeve; why do some people feel the need to start a conversation with you when you are trying to read?  We decided they must be none readers and don’t understand the concept of, “I’m reading a book leave me alone.”  Our story unfolded as any good one does, though this one we just keep writing it as it goes along. She has read a lot of the classics, myself I watched a lot of classic cartoons and really only read the classics that were stuffed down my throat in public school. We both have rather eclectic taste in our reading and we each have ventured into genres that neither of us expected too.  That is one of the great aspects of liking to read there are always authors to discover.  It is not uncommon to end our days, each with their own reading or to spend the start of a lazy weekend day sitting side-by-side each with a book over morning coffee. It is great just sitting next to the person you love and both doing your own thing together.

     A few years ago at Christmas my wife asked for a Kindle Fire and being one that liked books that I could hold in my hand I was not entirely convinced this was a good thing. When E-readers and the Kindle appeared on the scene I bemoaned the change on the horizon, which in hindsight I must admit was rather short-sighted of me. Needless to say from day one her Kindle has been by her side and she keeps it handy on Sundays to track Fantasy football online. She said it’s one of the best presents I ever got here, other than me. When Father’s Day rolled around the following June guess what I got for a present?  Yep, I got my very own Kindle Fire. Watching me futz around with the touchscreen was a great source of hilarity for her: hell it still is any time I am near a touchscreen.  The “I like to hold a real book in my hands” argument at this juncture holds water like a colander.  I’m hooked and mine goes everywhere with me too, though I admit I've surprised myself to say the least at how often I use it. This definitely is not a device for someone that likes coffee table books and since I use my coffee table as a place to put my feet on while I read for me it’s a perfect fit.  I like that it is backlit and there is no need to go fumbling for the bedside lamp after I fall asleep with it on my face: I just turn it off and set it aside in its nightly resting place. I think the book size and feel of it made it easy to adapt to, being a bit different than reading page after page on a computer screen, which I do not care for in the least. 

     The best part, well the two best parts, are it was gifted to me by my lady love and I can have a stack of books to read at my disposal at all times and they all fit in this one little space. Since I have no concern about finding a place to stack them, my list to be read is rather large at this point in time, though for all intents and purposes it remains a stack of  one. As I pen this missive I see by the clock on the wall, and the yawn’s floating across the keyboard it is fast approaching that feet on the coffee table time here in paradise so I am off to the couch with today’s choice tome. Good Night and Happy Reading.

Four Weeks in

 
                                                                           

     I must admit I feel a bit jaded four games into the NFL season with some of the changes on the field and the stuff happening off it. We have reached the quarter pole and there certainly have been some surprises from both teams and players at both ends of the spectrum since the kickoff.  The fumbled punts from the league office surrounding all the off the field shenanigans from Ray Rice, to Adrian Peterson, in addition to the Greg Hardy and Ray McDonald situations has been more in the news then the game on the field.  The first two situations are now about damage control and attempting to appease the masses and keep the bozos in Congress from sticking their noses in. Goodell has been as bad for the NFL as Stern was for the NBA by creating a product that becomes more difficult to sit and watch. The number of penalty flags decorating the field has gone beyond ridiculous, with the number of ticky tack fouls being called slowing the game and affecting the flow, though adding more review-able plays would allow for more beer and pizza commercials.  Per the usual corporate mindset, mahogany row always does what mahogany row wants to and the hell with everyone else who has bought at ticket: in other words like it or leave, this is what you get.

     The game on the field has definitely had some surprises, except for the Jets and the Raiders who have been and will remain clown cars with brief, very brief flashes of organization. The Cardinals and Bengals are the only teams undefeated at this point in the season which is rather unusual to have only 2 by this juncture.  The Cardinals appear to have developed a much tougher mindset the past couple of seasons and it will be interesting to see how well they can hold on to that. The Bengals have been here before and felt flat in the playoffs, only time will tell if this will be their year.

     The biggest surprise would have to be Dallas winning 3 of 4 and mowing down teams with their running game. DeMarco Murray has to be in the mix for MVP based on his early play. I didn’t expect Dallas to win more than 6 or 7 games given all the defensive issues that carried over from last year, plus losing a couple of defensive starters and their guys have stepped up and played well.  Another 3 up 1 down surprise would have to be the Texans, after only winning 2 games last year, though they may not be there if not for J.J. Watt and their defense.  Detroit winning 3 of 4 is a small surprise too, though they kind of should be since they have plenty of talent and it seems a new coach has helped get them moving together in the right direction.  Given the Lions history the past 60 years, great starts have often lead to epic implosions, however with the talent here these guys could definitely go a long way.

    From the other end of the spectrum the surprise team would have to be the Saints losing 3 of 4 and with that defense they are lucky to have won one game. A high school freshman football team could drop 30 points on these guys, they don’t tackle and there are way too many guys out of position.  Their supercharged offense has been nothing worth noting either, I see 8-8, 9-7 at best with this group. There are two of the ugliest teams at 2-2 based on preseason expectations; one has to be the Patriots with an offensive line that can’t keep the quarterback upright even when they are blocking 5 or 6 on 4 and a defense that can’t seem to stop anyone on third down. You can never count out a Belichek coached team; however it doesn't look like he has the horse this year to pull it off.  He is one of the best at making adjustments on the fly, so a candle of hope will remain burning impatiently in Foxboro, that Bill can right the ship.  The 49ers are the other team that seems to be fighting to get itself together after two 4^th quarter meltdowns. Rumblings have appeared on line that players are unhappy with the coach, though I don’t see him going anywhere anytime soon.

    The rest of the teams are about where expected, in a state of meh, with the expected bottom dwellers at the bottom and the middle kids being right where there supposed to be. The Falcons and the Colts should be fun to watch from what they have shown so far and both will probably have a few games that end with scores around 38 – 35.

    From a fantasy football perspective a lot of the expected studs have been duds, especially the running backs.  Adrian Peterson we know Is home watching day time TV, Jamaal Charles missed time, Eddie Lacy and LeSean McCoy can’t seem to get going and as mentioned before DeMarco Murray is running roughshod over people so far. So many teams are going with running back by committee that finding consistency from running backs has been so much a test of skill and more like a bit of luck. The top receivers have had their issues too; Calvin Johnson, Brandon Marshall and Demeryius Thomas have all been dealing with injuries and not in top form.  Steve Smith even at 100 years old makes Joe Flacco look like he can throw the ball and doesn’t look to be slowing down a bit.  Allen Hurns from the Jags pretty much has the “That Didn’t Help Anyone” award sewed up for the season after week one, I think that surprise performance will be tough to beat. I think Peyton Manning misses Knowshon Moreno more than he can admit; he’s still Peyton though not as Peytony. Brees and Brady have spent the first few weeks running for their lives and not shown us what we are accustomed to seeing from these two. I don’t want a witness from the congregation I want you to block someone dammit! Nick Foles obviously spent the off season learning how to throw interceptions, though with that offense he will be all right.  Aaron Rodgers finally looked like himself dismantling the Bears, though the Packers look a little unsteady. Meanwhile, Andrew Luck is steadily working his way to being poster child for the NFL. I almost forgot to mention to the top rookies QB's from the draft, Teddy Bridgewater and Blake Bortles, the early returns look like these guys can play and I hope their offensive lines can keep them from getting killed. Two of the defenses expected to be dominating, the Panthers and 49ers have not been, and the one expected to be tissue, the Cowboys, have exceeded expectations.  The Cardinals have played real well despite losing some starters from last year and are a mild surprise though Bruce Arians has got these guys playing together and playing tough.

     This season so far is shaping up to have a couple of 9-7 or 8-8 wildcard teams, as there is no team really dominating week in and week out and it wouldn't be a surprise to see a 9-7 in the Super Bowl.  The halfway point may be a better gauge as the inevitable injuries mount up and the teams that can adjust and have fill-ins step up will rise to the top.

     My jaded self has come to realize that football has been a fall tradition for me for so long it is hard to break away from it. I have the games on some Sundays as background noise while I futz around the house, waiting for the crowd roar to run to the TV. I sure I see more replays than real time plays some weeks. I started playing fantasy football 3 seasons ago after some prodding by my other half, and that has become more interesting than the games on the screen. Something wrong there I think. I’ll still watch with one eye at least, though I’ll be sure to keep a book to read handy and a pillow nearby for naps between play reviews.

    

                                                                            

     

The Oil of Change

     This popped up in my Facebook memories today and I realized how much fun it was to write. It also gave me a couple of giggles. I have another post for tomorrow ready to go and get this blog back in business. 

     After threatening to go get my oil changed the past 3 weekends I finally went to my usual shop on Saturday morning.  I was referred to my mechanics in the mid 90’s and I feel lucky to have been a customer since then. A good wrench is worth their weight in gold and some of the best I’ve ever known never worked in a shop, they were just shade tree mechanics that tinkered away their weekends. I learned how to repair cars the same way a lot of folks did, out of need, economic need. I bought an old Dodge van back in the 70’s that become the bane of my existence for a few years. It broke down so often I knew the tow truck drivers on a first name basis, thank God for AAA. I bought oil by the case, carried around a spare set of spark plugs and a box of spare parts I scavenged from the junkyard. It was such a craptastically fine example of 1970’s American car know how, that a friend offered to shoot it for me; I declined, though a few months later he did shoot his and got arrested.  The judge laughed when his charges were read in court and made my buddy promise to not do that again. For many years I spent a lot of weekend time under the hood of a car just to be mobile again on Monday. I sure don’t miss that stuff very much  though hanging with friends and swearing in harmony when things didn't quite work out as we planned made for some good times.

                                                                            

My Auto Shop teacher. The little puppy I had for a couple of weeks Four-Legged-Kids  is in the foreground. 

     I don’t work on cars anymore and haven’t done much other than simple stuff since I moved out here, even simple stuff like oil changes. I don’t have the space nor the inclination to store a collection of jugs or barrels full of used oil to take to the city a few times a year. Another part of that equation is apartments and HOAs have a tendency to absolutely freak out if they see the hood of a car up, so I've curtailed my activities if for no other reason than to avoid some stupid fine for being alive in public. That’s another rant for another day. I have come to take on my Dad’s attitude about car repair, he used say. ”those guys need to make a buck too”, though I think mainly he just didn't want to do it anymore and I have come to the same conclusion.  My mechanic laughed like hell when I told I didn't work on cars anymore unless the third number was a 7 and even then I think I would plead ignorance.  I am kind of enjoying my retirement from busted knuckles and knots on my big furry head.

                                                                             

   Pinto Explodabout, I had to change the plugs without fail every 3,000 miles or it wouldn't run worth a damn.

     My mechanic and I were talking about how the auto repair business has changed over the past 8-10  years and how there is less work to go around though it is more costly each time. He was telling me the last few years, mainly the last 4 or 5 that he does a lot of computer work, and has to take new classes every month just to stay current. Now he does a lot of hook the car to a machine, wait till it spits out a code and you have to decipher it, sometimes there are easy and other times they are as useful as most help files.  He said he doesn't get the same usual maintenance much for newer cars like brakes, belts, and plugs since the now make all of those in a form that can last 100,000 miles.  You just end up paying a lot more now when it goes kaput. We looked at what my maintenance guidelines were for my car. I’m about due to get my tranny filter changed, though I ‘m supposed to get another 50,000 miles out of my plugs and brakes. It boggles the mind after what I've been accustomed to for so many years. Now when I see an older car on the road that’s not a classic cool ride I wonder how that old thing is still running; then I grin because it’s either out of need or a labor of love.

                                                                           

                                                

    This '73 Chevy pickup managed to get us to Arizona and I drove it around for 5 more years with no A/C. I had this old girl for 10 years and it was definitely a labor of love keeping it on the road. Before I moved out here I bought a parts truck with a blown engine and swapped out the doors, the tail gate, and the leaf springs. The only original body parts left when I sold it was the cab, everything had been changed and if it hadn't been painted primer gray it would have looked like a patch work quilt. Now when I see another old Chevy truck on the road I wonder if this one is still out there too. The dinosaurs of the auto world always have some kind of appeal whether out of nostalgia or just the desire to have a sweet ride. The car I drive now is already a dinosaur, Chevy stopped making them a couple years ago, but most likely I'll just keep on driving it till becomes a cube, cuz dinosaurs are just cool like that.

Chromie and the Page Gnomes

If I didn't need another sign that Google+ is deader than Abraham Lincoln I still managed to find another one here. Well let's say maybe outdated. Might be time to move this collection of paper filled holes to another site. I tried to add some pictures to a post the other night and it kept failing, needless to say the air was blue in this office. There was this little ball on here that kept changing colors from red to yellow to green to blue and around again while I was trying to add my pictures. The message revealed when I hovered over it? It appears your have compatibility mode enabled. Not!, that's asking for trouble. A little more poking around brought me to a page that showed me the best browser for using this site. The little page gnomes made me aware that my browser is out of date and pointed out to me I should be using IE 9, 10 or Surprise! Chrome. I have IE 11. Facepalm. Lo and behold when I closed out and opened back up in Chrome I had no issues loading pics. I've tried Chrome here and there but was never a fan of it, the bare bones look for me was like buying a brand new Cadillac with manual window cranks. In the meantime I will keep on scribbling while I investigate another home for my musings, all the while with one eye peeled. watching and hoping the pages gnomes don't follow me.

Actually, There is Something On

    Writing for me is often a bit like pulling a loose string on a shirt or a pair of pants, I’m not always sure where my intentions will lead me, though hopefully not too far from where I intended to go initially. Sometimes I start with an idea, then I have to go around the coffee cup a few times before I remember there is a handle, such is the delight of falling through the hole in the paper.  Yesterday’s entry for your perusal began as the back story to that handle I never managed to find before it was time to roll up the sidewalks for the night. Instead, the back story became the story when my keyboard and I jumped in and kept on falling for a while.  While I was reading it over, hoping there were no typos or sentences with the structural integrity of grape jelly, I realized I had left out what I had started to write about in the first place.  Thus again I have managed to make a short story long.  I’ve been talking and ofttimes living backwards since I was 5 so it’s not an earth shattering surprise to have done it again. My brief sojourn back in time, to the hysterically inefficient mess that is over-the-air broadcasting did result in a payoff that my wife and myself still enjoy to this day. 

     My wife admits to being a horse crazy girl growing up and I have seen first-hand how that feeling still lurks beneath her quiet demeanor, ready to be unleashed at the first scent of horse sweat.  Myself I had never spent much time around horses due to the circles I ran in and I haven’t ridden one in many a year.  The past few years have been a lot of fun spending time at horse shows and riding barns being around these amazing animals with a few bruises and a slobbered up hoody being well worth the price of admission.

     Late one Sunday during the cable hiatus we flipped the TV on at my house and saw a small herd of horses flash across the screen. ”Wait, stop, horses, what was that?” my honey exclaimed as her eyes grew big and her face lit up when the channel went past.  Of course we clicked back and stopped to watch and see what this was all about. Little did we know that chance happening would still resonate three years later since we are still watching the show.  We had discovered a little Canadian family drama called Heartland that is now in its 8^th season.  We made a point of watching on Sunday nights when we were near a TV and were a bit bummed when it disappeared from the local late night Sunday fare.  We have a stack of DVDs we don’t watch now and adding to the collection didn't make sense for us after pricing them online so we held out hope it would come back around again. Lo and behold our hope was rewarded, we happened to see it was playing on the UP Network and fired up the DVR. The best part was they were running it from the pilot right on through season 7; love my DVR.  

     I could say I don’t know what has drawn me to this series, though the truth is there are too many reasons to list why I like it. I've never considered myself a family drama fan, though I did enjoy crazy family sitcoms through the years starting with All in the Family., and wholesome would definitely not describe Archie Bunker. Simply put it’s a good show with great scenery, good writing and acting, some really good characters, and oh yeah horses, lots of horses.  I hesitate to type the word wholesome though the word is inescapable to describe it since it is just plan good family entertainment. This little show has all the stuff families live through day to day, the laughter and tears, the bickering, teasing and making up, success, failure, heartfelt moments and occasional fisticuffs, but no swearing since the network bleeps out even the word, Damn! That usually elicits a giggle from the couch.  It is definitely not sappy and takes on issues that each of us has either gone through at one time or another or we know someone who has. The backdrop is a 600 acre horse ranch in the middle of Alberta, Canada and to describe the scenery as fabulous doesn't do it justice, though the amazing camera work makes up for it.  It is back to being our Sunday night wind down to get ready for the week ahead thing to do. Anyone out there with a horse crazy sweetheart would be wise to check it out with no caveats since you’ll enjoy getting hooked yourself.

There's Still Nothing On

     After living in this house a few years I reached a point when I had to make some changes. I was working nights so paying for 150 channels with nothing on didn’t make a lot of sense.  Mainly because I wasn’t home to watch anything I was interested in and I didn’t have a way to record it at the time.  So I kicked loose from cable TV for almost 2 years, it was too costly for what I was getting out of it, though I kept the internet. I would just watch the shows I wanted online when I got home at night, plus I could pause it when I wanted to so it worked real well for a while.  With football season approaching I had to do something and decided to break down and get one of those TV signal converters plus a set of rabbit ears to see what I could pull in for TV. I could get the local network channels that carried football except the NBC affiliate, which wasn’t a great loss though I was surprised I couldn’t ever get the local PBS station. Reception ranged between pretty good and meh most of the time, though all bets were off during dust storms. I somehow managed to pull in, at least from the antennae’s point of view, a “total” of 63 channels, of which I watched about 7 or 8 if I could get them to come in. The rest consisted of a rather eclectic mess that for some interesting channel surfing if nothing else. There were 7 or 8 that were basically nothing more than the flea races with sound,  it was toss up about what you heard sound wise, sometimes they were in English, some times in Spanish.  Another group of a dozen or so consisted of religious or evangelical channels in various and sundry forms. Any one that has known me any length of time knows I’m about as religious as a bucket of paint and only darken the doors of a church for weddings and funerals, so they were pretty much out of my wheelhouse.  The remaining 30 odd stations were all in Spanish, some religion based others just regular TV and since my high school Spanish is very rusty at best I didn’t last long watching those and trying translate on the fly. My main TV fare consisted of ancient reruns from the fairly early days of television.

 

                                                             

 

     I’ve rarely met anyone that doesn’t recall the TV shows of their youth with some degree of fondness, though I‘ll tell ya watching these shows now it’s easy to notice how low budget they really were.  From a kid’s point of view this was cool stuff and I wonder how adults from that era thought about what was filling the small screen.  Catching some of the old shows here and there is a reminder of simpler times and simpletons. Seriously who grew up during the 60’s & 70’s and didn’t see every episode of Gilligan’s Island and Leave It to Beaver about 4,000 times. Watching all that TV I don’t know how I managed to read all the books I did, so maybe I‘m a little odd, just maybe. I remember as a kid we had a box on top of the TV we called the rotor that was connected to a motor up on the antenna. You had to turn the dial to specific points marked on it to get certain channels to come in. We only were able to get about 5 since we didn’t live in an area close enough to any of the UHF stations; those were the channel numbers above 13.  Cable didn't make an appearance in my area until I was heading to high school. The world has definitely moved on.

   

                                   

                 

 

    Into this epic conglomeration sitting atop my TV set walked the woman that is now my wife.  The first time she was at my house and we decided to watch TV she had a look of utter surprise that I didn’t have cable.  I exposed her to the joy that is over the air TV, she wasn’t impressed.  The typical offering late at night after Craig Ferguson ended was usually an infomercial and there weren’t a lot of other choices. The most palatable enough to watch usually consisted of Highway Patrol and Sea Hunt, with an occasional Mr. Ed or Bat Masterson thrown in.  Mr. Ed got a pass of course, he’s a horse and horses are cool, plus he is still funny after all these years.  The others left her wondering why I watched this stuff. I pointed out to her that these shows were from the late 50’s & early 60’s, essentially the stuff I grew up watching, when everything was in black & white and television as an industry wasn’t much more than a teenager.  Sophistication in TV land then wasn’t as important as just putting something on that folks may watch and sponsors could manage to try and sell stuff. I always liked it when Alfred Hitchcock groused and sighed about having to go to a commercial., just like we do now. We would watch and giggle over the impossible stuff that occurred in episode after episode. and the obvious low production sets. The PSAs at the end of Highway Patrol were always special,

“ Remember to give blood at the blood bank not on the freeway” and “ Leave the clowns at the circus don’t be one on the highway”  we’re our favorites.

                                                                          

                                                           

     As our relationship progressed we spent many a Sunday and Monday watching football at her place. She had cable and her TV wasn’t a refuge from the Clinton era.  When we made the decision to share living space she insisted that the rabbit ears go, which required very little arm twisting and not long after she parked her desk and her clothes in the third bedroom, the dish went up on the end of the trailer. NFL Sunday ticket is great way to OD on football in the fall, though we now have 200 channels and there’s still nothing on; thank the universe for the DVR.  We do still catch Mr. Ed from time to time.  After all, a horse is horse of course, of course.    

      

 

That's Too Many

     I was talking to someone the other day about moving and about how many times they had moved in the past few years. We both wondered why there is always that box of stuff that magically disappears after you finish moving. You know that box; you drive yourself crazy looking for that one thing you can’t find anywhere during your unpacking, so it must be in that box. I decided to yank the thread on that old sweater by trying to list all the places I’ve lived since 1980.  I started with 1980 because for a good portion of 1979 my address was my van or whatever couch I could find to crash on and the rest of it appears to be stuck in that memory spot that stubbornly refuses to be anything more than liquid tar. I’ve been in this house for eight years, which is the longest I’ve lived anywhere since I was a kid, so I chose the end year of 2006. I scratched out a list and was surprised when it added up to 20. Holy crap! Looking at the list there were five locations that totaled 18 of the years in that 26 year span.  Before moving in here, the longest I stayed anywhere was 6 years, 3 of them were a little over or a little under 3 years, one was a little over 2 and the other was a just short of a year.  After doing the math and coming up with 15 more moves in remaining 8 years it is no wonder I hear the word “moving” and I just run away, nowhere in particular mind you, just away.  I also counted the 2 summers I spent living in a campground while my house was being built as one because it was the same campground. 

     I bought my first house in Richmond, Virginia in 1985, only stayed there one year. It was a cute little place, 3 small bedrooms, though it had a nice sized yard where I was able to have my first and only garden; the tomatoes and cucumbers took over the area behind the garage, those jokers just don't quit growing. The day we packed the truck to leave it was 60 degrees or so outside, shorts and tee shirts were the attire of the day and the date was in the first week of February.  Our caravan landed in Connecticut in the early evening on moving day and we unloaded while slipping and sliding on the snowpack of 6 or 7 inches that covered the ground. The next morning I almost choked on my morning coffee when I read the thermometer. It was all of 4 degrees.  Timed that one well didn’t I?  

 

                                                   Richmond, VA 1985                                            

                                              

      My move out here to Arizona from Connecticut was another example of epic timing. The idea for that move started during February in the middle of a driving wet snow. I was plowing snow for the apartments I worked at with a ’72 GMC ¾ ton that had most definitely seen better days. The cab mounts were so rusted and rotted I held my breath when I turned a tight corner: I was sure the cab was going to roll right off the frame.  The exhaust had pretty much rotted off, there was maybe 2 feet or so out of each manifold, it was so loud it set off car alarms when I started it up. The bald-ass front tires leaned in opposite directions, but hey they were snow tires!  The best part was the heater, what heater, this was the last year GM had the cab with that little fart fan for heat and defrost.  Needless to say the old truck was struggling to handle the near century record snowfall that winter of ’93. We tried to rig the vents a bit to try and keep the windshield clear. Yeah, not so much. The ends of the windshield would freeze over with snow and ice so I‘d have to get out every half hour or so to clean it off, then hope I didn't get poked in the ass by a stray seat spring on my return. Hanging my head out the window didn’t help either, my hat kept blowing off in the wind. After yet another excursion for ice removal I hopped back in the truck and said to my then girlfriend, “This shit is getting old”. She replied, “Let’s move somewhere warm.”  “Ok”, I said, where do you want to go?”  “Phoenix, Arizona”, was the first words out of her mouth.  I sort of shrugged and said, “Ok let’s do it.” 

                                                                                         
                                                                        

The Rot Box

 

    
     After selling almost everything we owned, we proceeded to drive 2,500 miles across the country in 2 vehicles with no A/C. On the 29^th of June 1994 we hit Phoenix proper,it was 7a.m., smack dab in the middle of the morning parking lot on the freeway through the center of town. The big bank sign with the thermometer read 103 degrees.  What in the blue fuck had I gotten myself in to? The daily high temperature that first week didn’t drop below 115. I felt liked a boiled owl most of that first summer. I’ve only moved 7 times in my 20 years here, so my average time of staying any one place is getting better.  This has been a pretty good place to live. I’ve met a lot of good people, buried a few that taught me more than a few things, experienced untold amounts of self-discovery and managed to stumble across the lovely young woman that is now my wife.  All-in-all its been a good run, though I’ve come to realize I miss bodies of water not dug by a backhoe and trees that didn’t come on a truck.  I miss green. Brown is an ok color, though I prefer it in more when in the form of chocolate or coffee.

The Week in Review cost me 5 cents

     We’ll it’s been quite a week. Professional athletes have been making the highlight reel after their game and the lowlight reel for some things they did off the field.  A rich old white guy in an expensive suit tried to convince those who were watching that the dog ate his homework, when in reality the dog didn’t exist and there really wasn’t any homework.  As the NFL’s crisis of conscience continues getting more and more convoluted while the jumbo sized boxes of Band-Aids are rolled out to face the problem head on, I’m left with a thought. 

     I hope that someone in a situation like some of these families are in finally decides for themselves that enough is enough and takes some steps to change their Life, no matter how scared they are. Walking through the internal fire of a major Life change isn’t easy, never has been never will be. There is support out there, though finding it isn’t always easy either. I was talking to a couple of my buddies out by the smokers tree at work today and came to the conclusion that it sucks that one has to be a part of the system long enough to know what angles to play to even get some of the most basic kinds of help; not get rich or just take for the sake of taking type of stuff, just enough to make it a little easier to live day to day.

     Major social issues are never fixed by throwing more rules and regulations at them. That just fuels those making the new rules with the audacity to puff out their chest and say see what I did, it becomes just another magician’s misdirection ploy, though it does give the mob mentality someone to hang in the meantime.  We all live Life individually, no one can think for me nor can I for them. Good thing isn’t it? Any major change occurs on an individual basis; you can’t throw a net over something so large and for a moment expect to be able to pick it up all at once.  It’s the individuals involved that make it happen one person at a time, not the big shiny stuff rolled out to collect accolades and applause, those are just there to polish egos and garner brownie points.  Change comes from the people working side by side with those that are trying to change their lives.  There are examples all around, you may have walked by someone in the grocery store today never knowing what positive changes had occurred recently for that person perusing the frozen vegetables.  The way I see it everyone is recovering from something, either their own addiction or the side effects of someone else’s.  It doesn’t matter if it’s booze, drugs, food, gambling, anger, sex, guilt-tripping, power-tripping, or cow-tipping, when they are essentially all about abuse in some way, over-indulgence to where they reach a point of getting in the way of living Life on a day to day basis.  Can we fix ourselves? Maybe. Will we fix ourselves? Maybe. Do we want to fix ourselves? Maybe.   That is just my two cents and with it currently costing 2.4 cents to make a penny I will now go to the back door and throw a nickel in the street. Keep the change.

Out of Paper Clips

     It is now two weeks into the NFL season and it’s shaping up to be the weirdest ever, topped only by the strike-shortened 87’ season with replacement players and the 2012 replacement refs debacle. There has been more ink flowing the last few weeks about off the field antics then the penalty filled yawn fests gracing our TV screens the past two weeks.


     For me this question arises. How many of the types of incidents we’ve seen splashed all over all forms of media the past few weeks were buried and never say the light of day in the past?  The stuff going on here is not new, not new in the NFL or the rest of society unfortunately. It is an uncomfortable feeling finding out our heroes are not so heroic isn't it? OJ’s four hour Ford commercial should have surely cemented that idea home.  Charles Barkley said it best, “I am not a role model.”  Pro athletes are just people like the rest of us and sometimes the rest of us, as people, we screw up. That’s’ why they put erasers on pencils, mistakes are pretty much a given. Should we hold these guys to a higher standard because they have chosen to do what they do for a living and have chosen to live in that fishbowl? No. Should they be held to the standards that the vast majority the rest of society makes an effort to adhere too? Yes. The perception is they are not and the NFL’s lack of foresight to head this kind of stuff off before it reached the credibility crisis they seem to be having now is its own fault. The recent moves they made to address the issues like domestic violence and child abuse have produced a collective, “Well duh, why didn’t you address this before, were you out of paper clips or something”?  The game has changed a lot for me and I‘m sure for many longtime fans like myself, and not in a good way.  

     There were a couple of occurrences of note that are part of the current seasons happenings that in no way diminish what we‘ve seen of late, though are a couple of examples of organizations that make the effort to do good things. Not everyone is clueless in the NFL though it feels like it sometimes. The Seattle Seahawks signed a player to their roster to make sure he got paid and could take advantage of the health benefits NFL players receive: Story here:  http://agoodsportshang.com/2014/05/24/seahawks-do-the-right-thing-for-scott/

Another surprise was the Cincinnati Bengals selling one players jersey to help fund cancer research: http://profootballtalk.nbcsports.com/2014/09/09/bengals-selling-devon-still-jerseys-for-cancer-research/

 

     NFL players have never been nor will they ever be choir boys, the nature of the game make it so. Signing up to have 60-70 car accidents in the span of 3 to 4 hours one day a week for 5 months of the year would make any one a little addled in the brain pan.  Will the social issues that keep coming to the surface be addressed in such a manner that it doesn’t appear as just pandering to sponsors? Time will tell, though my inner cynic says no. Some of us will keep watching, others will only watch with one eye, some will walk away. Me? I ‘m going to go brush my teeth and get this bad taste out of mouth.

Lingering thoughts on Roger's Neighborhood

     While I don’t often read full stories as I peruse the headlines of the pages I frequently visit, I notice there is still a lot being written and said all on forms of media about the Ray and Janay Rice domestic violence incident while the NFL and the commissioner fumble the ball. Call me not surprised about the conflicting accounts released by the NFL about who had or didn’t have a video or DVD, that they did or didn’t get, that the NFL did or didn’t ask for and when they did or didn’t receive it or were or were not denied access to it.  It’s akin to watching a really bad remake of Abbot and Costello’s “Who’s on First?” and no one is laughing. These guys are taking a page from the bozos in D.C.; if they blow enough smoke up everyone’s ass and sling enough BS in every compass direction they can hopefully make enough of it stick to someone so they make that person the sacrificial lamb.  Meanwhile, somewhere in the bowels of the NFL offices “Old Scruffy” the equipment manager diligently polishes swords for those deemed expendable enough to fall on one. I guess we will find out if a tree does make a sound when it falls in the forest, even if that forest is made up of 40 story buildings.

The worst aspect of this mess has to be the impact for the families involved and the friends, acquaintances in their social circles. I cannot fathom it. The Ravens coach said it best, “This video changes things.” Knowing that we have created our own Big Brother under the guise of being safe makes this sad tale even sadder because it created a firestorm due to the celebrity status of one of the participants.  It is another example of the any idiot with a cell phone cam can be become a YouTube celebrity in under an hour mindset we just accept on a   daily basis. The creepy factor of that makes me look around for cameras whenever I use a public restroom. So call me paranoid I don’t care. If this couple had just been Ray and Janay, a couple of the regulars from Pinkie’s Tavern over on Walnut St. it would be probably part of some wacky compilation of epic knockouts on YouTube; that is a sobering thought. This poor woman not only had to endure the indignity of getting clocked by her husband she has to relive that feeling over and over as it loops behind the commentators adding their take on this story. Being on the receiving end of domestic violence is bad enough without having your life poked and prodded by every knucklehead with a microphone, or a blog like yours truly.

 Those of us on the outside don’t really know what the relationship between Ray and Janay Rice was like before this incident was made public. Trying to judge their entire life together based on one video is a bit of a stretch. Chances are pretty good that this stuff has been going on in private previously and that this incident just happened to occur in a public place was their misfortune because the whole world got to see it. Liquored up or not this stuff most often happens behind closed doors and bringing it out in public smacks of a business as usual kind of occurrence. That idea though leads to another question, is the argument that appears to have been brewing before they appeared on video something that just got way out of hand and hadn’t happened before? Only the Rice’s can answer that. Then again, these folks aren’t my neighbors and I haven’t seen or heard any stories related to this being a pattern and if there was a pattern in evidence no doubt there would be someone trying to grab their 15 minutes of fame on the Today Show or CNN to tell us all the sordid details. 

Anyone I’ve known that has been in an abusive relationship, and I’ve known a few, and has managed to get out and move on, told me that you wonder a lot if it isn’t your fault.  And that becomes part of the answer to why you don’t just leave. Another insidious aspect of being in that environment is that you really don’t want anyone to know that you somehow have put yourself in this position, first by starting in the relationship and then by staying. Finally you come to that bottom line where you’re afraid to leave because you’re afraid you may just wind up dead. It is a demoralizing position to be in and stance that takes a while to dig your way out of emotionally. Having the courage to walk away is not an easy road to walk and the hills you have to climb sometimes seem to throw another bag of dead cats onto the burden you carry.  Reaching the top of that hill makes the trip through the valley on the other side feel a little lighter and a little less foreboding because you know you managed to get through it, though any day can still feel like a mountain to climb no matter how hard you work to make it otherwise.

Whether or not Ray Rice ever gets a second chance and goes back to the NFL at this point doesn’t really matter.  Michael Vick got a second chance, who knows if he would today. What really matters is if the Rice’s can manage to work through what they need to so they can get right with themselves and Life.  I wish them the best and hope they can manage to pick up the pieces and move forward.

 

Bye Ray, Take Roger with You

     The Baltimore Ravens released Ray Rice on Monday after the security cam video of him decking his then fiancé in an elevator was posted online by that paragon of journalistic integrity known as TMZ.Apparently the word from the Ravens and the NFL is they had never seen that video until today. Right, and I'm the friggin' Easter Bunny.


     The notion that NFL security and the Ravens team security was never allowed access to it smacks of absolute bullshit. If these security guys can't get their hands on stuff like this, which makes no sense to me, then they need to be replaced. Seriously, you want those of us with more than half a brain cell to believe that TMZ can get this video and league security couldn't? False. The entire situation was handled poorly from the start by the league and the Ravens and both are now backpedaling and standing behind the " We didn't know" defense. No na na na no, false. I have to give Goodell credit he is the consummate politician and marketing huckster, not since P.T. Barnum has anyone been able to stack bullshit that high. This guy needs to go. This was a whiff of epic proportions, way beyond any swing and a miss from the Bambino or Reggie. He hasn't been good for the league since he came aboard and the sour notes just keep playing a tune that rivals fingernails on a chalkboard.


     Anyone who has ever watched sports, especially the NFL knows that these guys generally are not choir boys. They basically are paid a lot of money to kick the crap out of the guy in front of them for 3 hours every Sunday. Granted these guys all live in a fishbowl, but the other 6 days of the week they have lives outside of work and like the rest of should adhere to the rules of society. Goodell is like the marketing guy that puts " New and Improved" on the packaging without changing a thing on the inside. Most of the fines and suspensions dished out the last few years have been about protecting the brand, and promoting the image of the league as caring about important issues like player health and personal responsibility, which ofttimes comes across as a misdirection ploy. The NFL has been and always will be run by a bunch of rich old white dudes, though one would think there must be one or two with a social conscience in there somewhere. Then again, I may be just a dreamer after all. By the initial consequences dished out by the league after this incident it essentially went on record saying that domestic violence is acceptable, now they are going to get tough after the public outrage. Hey Roger maybe you should suspend yourself for moral indifference. Anyone out there think this was handled well? Didn't think so.

Somedays Life is a Bob Seger song

Over the past 24 hours or so around here I’ve felt like I was living the last verse of the Bob Seger  song, Night Moves; you know the line that goes,” I woke last night to the sound of thunder", and I woke last night to the sound of thunder and I woke last night to the sound of thunder; Sensing a pattern here? “How far off I sat and wondered…” Hell, I didn’t wonder how far off it was, it was right over my damn house. Living in the desert we don’t often get thunderstorms that last and last like this one. Thank you Norbert for this extremely big and extremely wet storm, which gave us the highest rainfall total in one day since weather records were first kept in 1895 for the Phoenix area. The morning commute was interesting to say the least. Most of the streets in the cities around the valley are either 5 or 7 lanes with 2 or 3 lanes each way and a center suicide lane for left turns. Today most of them were all 3 or less because there was so much standing water. The storms drains are so not equipped to handle it and that is partly because they are usually clogged with road debris or palm fronds and other tree parts that fly around when we have dust storms.  Some entire districts cancelled school; others made it optional or asked students to come in late.  I was so glad I didn’t have to be on the road at rush hour after watching the news this morning. We had a lot of callouts where I work due to road closures and flooding. The morning here was akin to waking to a massive snowstorm overnight and the city almost ground to a halt.  Some cities weren’t hit as bad, kids went to school and the world wasn’t coming to an end, it only felt like it.

     When it came time for me to brave the elements I was more concerned about the other people on the road than the rain itself. I decided to try to get some pics of what was happening on the way in. Since I solo commute I knew it would be a challenge though I figured I’d at least get an opportunity when I hit my usual traffic light or two on the way in. The other part of that equation has to do with my cell phone camera. We have a hate –hate relationship, I hate it and it hates me back. It will only take decent pictures outside, forget indoors, even with every light in the room on they just come out dark. And no I’m won’t be getting a new cellphone my alarm clock is just fine thank you. I laughed like hell later when I had a chance to see the pics I managed to take this morning at the traffic lights I was stopped at. Line up the shot, ready to click and the light turns green and we’re off again,  so they didn’t really come out very good, but I’ll let you decide.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is it any wonder no one asks me to take pictures since I have a tendency to cut off the tops of peoples heads too?

 

 

Here are some links to some better shots of what went on around here this Manic Monday and Google images for Arizona Record rainfall has some real good ones too. 

 

http://www.azcentral.com/story/weather/2014/06/10/arizona-monsoon-photos/10308627/

 

http://www.azfamily.com/news/Up-to-100-homes-in-Mesa-threatened-by-floodwaters-274415111.html

 

I think they these folks have a better relationship with their camera then I do. I wonder if counseling would help me and my cellphone cam work through our issues?