I always wondered what a professional massage would be like so one time when a local masseuse had a sale I took advantage of one. Of course up till then I had friends and family practice on me to varying degrees of success but I was always curious what the real deal would be like. So it was with some excitement that I went one cold winter day to have a genuine massage.
I arrived on time and was led to a darkened room by a receptionist. The masseuse was a rather tall woman with exceptional muscle development. She instructed me to remove as much clothing as I was comfortable with. I asked what was usual for this and she said most people stripped down to their underwear and covered themselves with the blanket on the table. She left the room and so I disrobed and lay on the table with the blanket covering me. After a while she came back in and told me to lay on my stomach. She spent the next several minutes walking around the table poking and prodding various spots on my body. I thought this was unusual but I had never had a professional massage before so I had no idea. After a few moments she asked me what areas I would like to have work done on. Well I said my shoulders are always tense the back near my neck seemed tight and also my calves were always tightening up-- Stop she said. I could spend the whole hour on just one of your calves you are in terrible shape. What would you like me to do? I was nonplussed. I don't know I said just do what you think would be good. So she spent the entire hour going from one spot to the next doing a little bit here and there. This was a deep tissue massage which I had no idea what that was. I found out. This was not my idea of a massage where you end up all relaxed. It felt like she beat the stuffing out of me. She left the room so I could dress. I felt woozy like I just went 15 rounds with her and lost. My muscles ached I felt worse than when I came. She entered the room and told me that to get me in normal shape I would have to come 3 times a week for a month and then taper off to once a week for several months and then at that point all I would need to do is come when needed. This would cost a fortune I thought. How did I ever get in such bad shape I wondered. As I contemplated this staggering to the door she spoke in a stern voice. Now don't forget drink lots of water. What ? She repeated drink lots of water. I just released a lot of toxins into your system that you need to flush out. If you don't you can damage your kidneys. Great! Not only do I ache all over and walk with a limp I never had but now I have to worry about drinking enough water so I don't get kidney damage. Wonderful. I never went back.
Stay tuned.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Rawhide!
Every year about this time I get a little nostalgic about my high school days. The leaves start to change the nights are a little cooler shadows longer -it's autumn. So naturally I think back to those yesterdays of youth and my schooling. My parents decided to send us kids to college prep school. I was the first being the oldest. Our public school system although I'm sure was fine was very crowded with all us baby boomers. In fact so crowded that they had to go to half day sessions for all the students. So my parents made the big sacrifice in terms of money to send us to private Catholic prep schools.
In order to get in to these schools you had to take an entrance test in eighth grade. Well wouldn't you know the day of the test I came down with the flu. 103 temperature and all the aches and pains. Plus the nuns explained we had to list 3 schools we wanted the scores to be sent to. I only had 2. But you must have 3 they said. So I picked the first school from the list to make my third choice. I had no idea where that school was but I had 3 listed so the nuns were happy. The first school I chose was too crowded the next would only take you if you played a musical instrument or sports so that left the third. Of course I was selected there. We figured out where it was and I showed up for class for my first day. By the way it was all boys and you had to wear a sport coat and tie every day. Oh joy.
Well things went smoothly for the morning until it was lunch time. We were told to stand in the hallway outside the cafeteria. No sooner had we arrived but down the hall strode a middle aged Jesuit priest with a bullwhip in his hand. A real one not some imitation one from a dude ranch. And boy did he know how to use it. Craaack! "Get in line against the wall-now!" he shouted. There wasn't a word spoken as we slammed our bodies up against the wall. What kind of school is this I'm sure we all thought. I'm sure just the impression he had sought to give us 14 year old boys.
There wasn't a day that went by that we didn't see him walking down the hall bullwhip in hand. The school disciplinarian cracking the whip. Only later did we find out that it was just for the Freshmen class this show of authority. So we wouldn't get off on the wrong foot as far as who was the boss around there. Remember all boys -no girls- things got rough once in a while especially by senior year. But that's another story. Until then --RAWHIDE--
Stay tuned.
In order to get in to these schools you had to take an entrance test in eighth grade. Well wouldn't you know the day of the test I came down with the flu. 103 temperature and all the aches and pains. Plus the nuns explained we had to list 3 schools we wanted the scores to be sent to. I only had 2. But you must have 3 they said. So I picked the first school from the list to make my third choice. I had no idea where that school was but I had 3 listed so the nuns were happy. The first school I chose was too crowded the next would only take you if you played a musical instrument or sports so that left the third. Of course I was selected there. We figured out where it was and I showed up for class for my first day. By the way it was all boys and you had to wear a sport coat and tie every day. Oh joy.
Well things went smoothly for the morning until it was lunch time. We were told to stand in the hallway outside the cafeteria. No sooner had we arrived but down the hall strode a middle aged Jesuit priest with a bullwhip in his hand. A real one not some imitation one from a dude ranch. And boy did he know how to use it. Craaack! "Get in line against the wall-now!" he shouted. There wasn't a word spoken as we slammed our bodies up against the wall. What kind of school is this I'm sure we all thought. I'm sure just the impression he had sought to give us 14 year old boys.
There wasn't a day that went by that we didn't see him walking down the hall bullwhip in hand. The school disciplinarian cracking the whip. Only later did we find out that it was just for the Freshmen class this show of authority. So we wouldn't get off on the wrong foot as far as who was the boss around there. Remember all boys -no girls- things got rough once in a while especially by senior year. But that's another story. Until then --RAWHIDE--
Stay tuned.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Now that's Italian!
I've always liked Italian cuisine especially pasta. So it was quite a wrench to make the decision to go gluten free 10 years ago. At home I could always make myself the various gluten free pastas that were available some better than others none as good as the real stuff however. But to eat out at favorite restaurants was a nightmare. No one served gluten free. Still I was determined to stay gluten free for my health. Then one day Laurie asked me to take her to her favorite Italian place called Paesanos. I looked at the menu and wept. All these great dishes with pasta. I settled for a salad. It was actually very good and I enjoyed a nice glass of wine with it. So it wasn't all bad. So when the next craving for something Italian came up I mentioned let's go to Paesanos again. This time the waitperson asked why just a salad. I explained my situation to her and she said she would talk to the owner about my problem. A few minutes later the owner came to our table and I explained that I'm gluten free. He wanted to know more about it and I told him in some detail. He asked if there were any alternatives to gluten pasta and I told him what was available. He asked where one could find these products. I told him most grocery stores in the area had a selection of them. He told me to choose any of the pasta dishes I would like for dinner and that he would personally go to the nearest grocery store to get some gluten free pasta. I was shocked! So I ordered one.
Well we had soup and salad and Laurie's dinner came and I told her go ahead don't bother to wait for me. It wasn't long after that when the owner comes to our table with an apron on and my gluten free pasta dish in his hands. He told me he went to the store and bought Quinoa pasta, cooked it himself and now wanted me to enjoy and to let him know what I thought of it. Let me tell you -it was wonderful. He told me that he would continue to carry the gluten free pasta so that I and others like me would be able to enjoy their great pasta dishes and not be limited to just salads. Now that's what I call great service. Paesanos has been and still is my favorite place to eat out. Laurie and I would go there for our New Year's eve dinners also. And they now carry gluten free bread that they bake at the restaurant and gluten free Tiramisu for dessert! Now that's Italian!
PS Rice is the best grain for gluten free pasta I've found.
Stay tuned.
Well we had soup and salad and Laurie's dinner came and I told her go ahead don't bother to wait for me. It wasn't long after that when the owner comes to our table with an apron on and my gluten free pasta dish in his hands. He told me he went to the store and bought Quinoa pasta, cooked it himself and now wanted me to enjoy and to let him know what I thought of it. Let me tell you -it was wonderful. He told me that he would continue to carry the gluten free pasta so that I and others like me would be able to enjoy their great pasta dishes and not be limited to just salads. Now that's what I call great service. Paesanos has been and still is my favorite place to eat out. Laurie and I would go there for our New Year's eve dinners also. And they now carry gluten free bread that they bake at the restaurant and gluten free Tiramisu for dessert! Now that's Italian!
PS Rice is the best grain for gluten free pasta I've found.
Stay tuned.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
And Leo was his name-o
I once knew a guy and Leo was his name-o. L-E-O, L-E-O and Leo was his name-o. Yes Leo. Where would we be in this world without the Leo's for existential entertainment-o. I lived with Leo in a house with 3 or 4 other guys in the winter of 1976-77. It was the best of times it was the worst of times. No job couldn't find work living with my brother Jim and guys I grew up with. Gary, our neighborhood buddy we grew up with, owned the house. Leo rented a room as did my brother. I shared Jim's room till I hopefully could find work and I could be on my own.
In order to save money I stopped eating meat. I studied up on becoming a vegetarian. Combining different food groups to maximize proteins and so forth. One day Leo came home from work got out the biggest pot we had and threw in a huge root vegetable of some kind as big as your head huge. It might have been a rutabaga I don't know it sounds good though. He then filled the pot with water. I asked him what he was doing. He said that was going to be his dinner. Your dinner? Yes he said my dinner because he was going to be a vegetarian now too! I said Leo vegetarians eat more than just vegetables you know. No they don't he said and reached for a beer. And Leo was his name -o.
Speaking of beer Leo was very fond of it. We had no TV so the evenings entertainment usually consisted of sitting in the living room drinking beer and listening to music. Toward the end of the evening Leo would be sitting on the floor with his back up against the couch nodding off. His half full bottle of beer sitting next to him. He would catch himself falling asleep and spaz out jerking his arms and legs and always knocking over his beer spilling it all over the carpet. Since we were all responsible for cleaning up our own messes Leo would slowly get up walk to the kitchen to get a towel to throw down at the beer mess on the floor. He wouldn't actually clean it just throw a towel down at it. Night after night this happened. Gary would eventually have to clean the entire carpet. And Leo was his name-o.
Leo didn't have a car. But we only lived about a mile from where he worked. Still he took a cab every morning at 6:00 am. He would call the cab company then eat breakfast and fix his lunch for work and by that time the cab was there. The cab would arrive honk the horn and Leo would go to work. There were many mornings when that didn't always work out as planned. The cab wouldn't come when Leo thought it should so he called for another. The original cab would invariably come a minute later Leo would leave and then about 20 minutes later the second cab would arrive honking the horn constantly in hopes Leo would hear and come out. But Leo wasn't there and the honking would continue for 5-10 minutes waking everyone in the neighborhood. And Leo was his name-o.
Every Saturday morning I would be awakened to the sounds of arguing from Jim and Leo. It would progressively get worse until fists started flying and next thing I knew they would be rolling down the stairs locked in mortal combat. This happened like clockwork the same time every Saturday morning without fail. I asked Jim once why this would happen. He said Leo was being a hose head and needed his i dotted. And Leo was his name-o.
Once one cold wintry night, late, no music just us all sitting around staring at the roaring fire in the fireplace, Leo in the back sitting on the couch for once, we got totally mesmerized. Watching the fire dance and crackle and pop. You know how it is late at night keeping warm by the fire almost like being on a camp-out -then suddenly a big pop and crackle and a cinder flew out the size of a large walnut glowing golden red right in our midst on the carpet! We just sat there frozen not knowing what to do. Then from the back on the couch Leo slowly gets up walks up to the cinder picks it up with his bare hand and calmly walks over to the fireplace and drops it in. We looked at Leo in shocked amazement! Leo we said didn't that burn and hurt? It sure did he said and sat back down on the couch. And Leo was his name-o.
We had other forms of entertainment. We played ping pong in the basement. One Friday night I was playing against Jim and Leo was sitting on the stair steps waiting for his turn. Gary came home from shopping for a corded circular saw. Oh boy he said I can't wait to try this out tomorrow morning. Now Leo I don't want you to be messing around with this I just bought it. He set it down and went upstairs to have dinner. We continued to play with Leo watching. After awhile Leo looks over to the new saw and says I wonder what this is like walking over to it. Jim and I looked at each other -Leo, Gary said not to touch it he was going to open it tomorrow morning. I just want to see what it looks like. Jim and I continue to play. There was no stopping Leo once he got something in his head. He opened the box took the saw out and plugged it in. I wonder how well this cuts. Leo! put that down we said! But Leo found a 2x4 and started to cut it. He started to cut the wood--bzzz then nothing! We looked over to Leo and Leo looked at us. He had cut right through the electrical cord on the first cut! Oh No!! Leo started to look around. What to do what to do. He carefully repacked the saw including the severed cord back into the box. Then he looked around for a place to hide it. Why hide it? So Gary wouldn't find it he said.
The next morning Jim and I were playing again with Leo watching. Gary comes down the stairs all bright and cheerful wanting to play with his new toy. Leo sees him and starts to take off up the stairs. Gary is looking around for his saw but can't find it. Where's my saw? he says. Jim and I say nothing. Eventually he finds it opens the box and comes over to us with the saw in one hand and the severed cord in the other. LEO!!!! And takes off running up the stairs. And Leo was his name-o. L-E-O, L-E-O and Leo was his name-o!
Stay tuned.
In order to save money I stopped eating meat. I studied up on becoming a vegetarian. Combining different food groups to maximize proteins and so forth. One day Leo came home from work got out the biggest pot we had and threw in a huge root vegetable of some kind as big as your head huge. It might have been a rutabaga I don't know it sounds good though. He then filled the pot with water. I asked him what he was doing. He said that was going to be his dinner. Your dinner? Yes he said my dinner because he was going to be a vegetarian now too! I said Leo vegetarians eat more than just vegetables you know. No they don't he said and reached for a beer. And Leo was his name -o.
Speaking of beer Leo was very fond of it. We had no TV so the evenings entertainment usually consisted of sitting in the living room drinking beer and listening to music. Toward the end of the evening Leo would be sitting on the floor with his back up against the couch nodding off. His half full bottle of beer sitting next to him. He would catch himself falling asleep and spaz out jerking his arms and legs and always knocking over his beer spilling it all over the carpet. Since we were all responsible for cleaning up our own messes Leo would slowly get up walk to the kitchen to get a towel to throw down at the beer mess on the floor. He wouldn't actually clean it just throw a towel down at it. Night after night this happened. Gary would eventually have to clean the entire carpet. And Leo was his name-o.
Leo didn't have a car. But we only lived about a mile from where he worked. Still he took a cab every morning at 6:00 am. He would call the cab company then eat breakfast and fix his lunch for work and by that time the cab was there. The cab would arrive honk the horn and Leo would go to work. There were many mornings when that didn't always work out as planned. The cab wouldn't come when Leo thought it should so he called for another. The original cab would invariably come a minute later Leo would leave and then about 20 minutes later the second cab would arrive honking the horn constantly in hopes Leo would hear and come out. But Leo wasn't there and the honking would continue for 5-10 minutes waking everyone in the neighborhood. And Leo was his name-o.
Every Saturday morning I would be awakened to the sounds of arguing from Jim and Leo. It would progressively get worse until fists started flying and next thing I knew they would be rolling down the stairs locked in mortal combat. This happened like clockwork the same time every Saturday morning without fail. I asked Jim once why this would happen. He said Leo was being a hose head and needed his i dotted. And Leo was his name-o.
Once one cold wintry night, late, no music just us all sitting around staring at the roaring fire in the fireplace, Leo in the back sitting on the couch for once, we got totally mesmerized. Watching the fire dance and crackle and pop. You know how it is late at night keeping warm by the fire almost like being on a camp-out -then suddenly a big pop and crackle and a cinder flew out the size of a large walnut glowing golden red right in our midst on the carpet! We just sat there frozen not knowing what to do. Then from the back on the couch Leo slowly gets up walks up to the cinder picks it up with his bare hand and calmly walks over to the fireplace and drops it in. We looked at Leo in shocked amazement! Leo we said didn't that burn and hurt? It sure did he said and sat back down on the couch. And Leo was his name-o.
We had other forms of entertainment. We played ping pong in the basement. One Friday night I was playing against Jim and Leo was sitting on the stair steps waiting for his turn. Gary came home from shopping for a corded circular saw. Oh boy he said I can't wait to try this out tomorrow morning. Now Leo I don't want you to be messing around with this I just bought it. He set it down and went upstairs to have dinner. We continued to play with Leo watching. After awhile Leo looks over to the new saw and says I wonder what this is like walking over to it. Jim and I looked at each other -Leo, Gary said not to touch it he was going to open it tomorrow morning. I just want to see what it looks like. Jim and I continue to play. There was no stopping Leo once he got something in his head. He opened the box took the saw out and plugged it in. I wonder how well this cuts. Leo! put that down we said! But Leo found a 2x4 and started to cut it. He started to cut the wood--bzzz then nothing! We looked over to Leo and Leo looked at us. He had cut right through the electrical cord on the first cut! Oh No!! Leo started to look around. What to do what to do. He carefully repacked the saw including the severed cord back into the box. Then he looked around for a place to hide it. Why hide it? So Gary wouldn't find it he said.
The next morning Jim and I were playing again with Leo watching. Gary comes down the stairs all bright and cheerful wanting to play with his new toy. Leo sees him and starts to take off up the stairs. Gary is looking around for his saw but can't find it. Where's my saw? he says. Jim and I say nothing. Eventually he finds it opens the box and comes over to us with the saw in one hand and the severed cord in the other. LEO!!!! And takes off running up the stairs. And Leo was his name-o. L-E-O, L-E-O and Leo was his name-o!
Stay tuned.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Computers and Me
Computers and me go way back. I started studying them in 1967. My freshman year at the University of Detroit. They were as mysterious then as they still are today. I don't know why. Of course our computer back then was the whole first floor of the Admin building. It was huge. And hot. You have to remember back then transistors were not readily available so they used vacuum tubes. Like they used in old radios and TV sets. I don't know do some of you even remember them? Musicians especially guitarists know about tubes in their amps. Anyway the whole room was always very hot like 90 degrees or something even with a/c and fans running constantly.
We were told that computers were what the future was going to be all about. We knew that. In sixth grade we were told that by the year 2000 we would all have flying cars to go to work in too. I'm lucky if I can afford to put gas in my car today. I guess some things were more important than others. Now we were learning how to program this monster. There was no monitor. We programmed it by keypunching on cards. That means we had to learn the computer languages we needed for the type of program we were running. COBOL, BASIC, FORTRAN etc. To run the simplest program required hundreds of these punch cards. They had to be in exact order. If even one card was out of order your program would "bomb out". You would actually get a printout of a huge picture of a bomb as an error message. This was a most horrendous occurrence. Especially if it was an assignment that was due that day. You were in trouble. That meant you had to go through hundreds of keypunch cards to find which one was out of order. Or worse maybe you program was not logically well written. Yikes. If a card was out of place I never would go through all those cards. It was quicker just to re punch all of them! Tedious I know. And talk about wasting paper!
So down through the years I've taken many courses in computer training. Some on my own and some at the university level. I always ace these courses. So why is it that I'm so conflicted using them to this day? If the power goes out suddenly I do know how to turn the computer back on. But as far as unleashing the full potential of this beast I'm totally clueless. I mean I do still shave with a brush and double edge blade in a razor that was made during the war. That would be the Second World War. I don't know if that completely explains it though. It might have something to do with that time during my Freshman year that my buddies and I decided to try out this new thing called computer dating! Now there's the ticket! Just fill out the 10 page questionnaire of who you really are- your likes dislikes etc. and let the computer match you up with your perfect date! It's scientific! God knows we weren't doing so well at all the mixers we went to. So it couldn't hurt.
Two weeks later we were all excited to get our results. I just wish I could remember all the details. I know I asked a young lady out on a date. What her name was I can't remember. Where we went to I don't know. How it ended -blank. All I remember was that we had absolutely nothing in common -she wasn't at all like she was described as. That's it- we had a terrible time. It's all coming back to me now.
My buddies all had similar experiences. The whole idea of computers deciding something so personal as someone to date just seemed not right not organic enough. We decided that maybe the mixers weren't that bad after all and besides the music was usually good. I guess I just don't trust computers. It's all that garbage in garbage out stuff.
Stay tuned.
We were told that computers were what the future was going to be all about. We knew that. In sixth grade we were told that by the year 2000 we would all have flying cars to go to work in too. I'm lucky if I can afford to put gas in my car today. I guess some things were more important than others. Now we were learning how to program this monster. There was no monitor. We programmed it by keypunching on cards. That means we had to learn the computer languages we needed for the type of program we were running. COBOL, BASIC, FORTRAN etc. To run the simplest program required hundreds of these punch cards. They had to be in exact order. If even one card was out of order your program would "bomb out". You would actually get a printout of a huge picture of a bomb as an error message. This was a most horrendous occurrence. Especially if it was an assignment that was due that day. You were in trouble. That meant you had to go through hundreds of keypunch cards to find which one was out of order. Or worse maybe you program was not logically well written. Yikes. If a card was out of place I never would go through all those cards. It was quicker just to re punch all of them! Tedious I know. And talk about wasting paper!
So down through the years I've taken many courses in computer training. Some on my own and some at the university level. I always ace these courses. So why is it that I'm so conflicted using them to this day? If the power goes out suddenly I do know how to turn the computer back on. But as far as unleashing the full potential of this beast I'm totally clueless. I mean I do still shave with a brush and double edge blade in a razor that was made during the war. That would be the Second World War. I don't know if that completely explains it though. It might have something to do with that time during my Freshman year that my buddies and I decided to try out this new thing called computer dating! Now there's the ticket! Just fill out the 10 page questionnaire of who you really are- your likes dislikes etc. and let the computer match you up with your perfect date! It's scientific! God knows we weren't doing so well at all the mixers we went to. So it couldn't hurt.
Two weeks later we were all excited to get our results. I just wish I could remember all the details. I know I asked a young lady out on a date. What her name was I can't remember. Where we went to I don't know. How it ended -blank. All I remember was that we had absolutely nothing in common -she wasn't at all like she was described as. That's it- we had a terrible time. It's all coming back to me now.
My buddies all had similar experiences. The whole idea of computers deciding something so personal as someone to date just seemed not right not organic enough. We decided that maybe the mixers weren't that bad after all and besides the music was usually good. I guess I just don't trust computers. It's all that garbage in garbage out stuff.
Stay tuned.
Friday, July 29, 2011
I saw the Who at Southfield High School
I sure did. The day was Wednesday November 22, 1967. It was a spur of the moment thing. I saw an ad in the paper and decided to go. By myself. I was 17 and a big fan of the Who. I got to the Southfield High parking lot early I guess because there was hardly anybody there. Anyway I went into the gymnasium were the concert was to be held if you can believe that and sat down on the bleachers. By the way the tickets for general admission were $2.50. Boy times have changed haven't they? The gym slowly filled up I guess there were maybe a thousand people total. First time I ever saw real hippies. There were 2 acts before the Who. The first was the Unrelated Segments a local Detroit band. As I recall I used to see them a lot at the college I went to. The were pretty decent as I recall. The second act was a group that played the Detroit area also and had a hit played on the radio quite a bit. They were called Amboy Dukes. They had this crazy guitarist that played a huge hollow body Gibson Byrdland with a 100 ft. lead on it so he could go out into the audience and cause a ruckus. I remember thinking that this guy is quite the showman and might give Pete Townsend a run for his money. Oh his name-that would be Ted Nugent.
Well then it was time for the Who to come on. The curtain was closed and there were 2 microphone stands alone on stage. I thought there was going to be some kind of dramatic entrance. No they merely walked up the steps at the side of the stage just like you were going to get your diploma. Keith Moon was last and he was carrying a big bundle of drum sticks under his arm. Why was he carrying all those sticks I wondered. I didn't have to wonder too long because the curtain parted they strapped on their guitars and Keith sat down at the drums and started to play" Can't Explain". Well I think it was the first time Keith did a 16th drum fill on the opening bar that he splintered a stick way out into the audience. All he did was reach down to the bundle and pick another one and not even miss a beat. Amazing. I think he must have broke half a dozen sticks that first song. He was on fire that night. They played several more songs that show and ended with the perennial "My Generation". Here it comes I thought --will they or won't they trash their instruments here in the High School gym. I mean I was sitting next to an elderly lady looking as old as my Grandmother for crying out loud. Well they did. In grand fashion. Pete had been playing a Fender Stratocaster all evening and right at the crucial moment a roadie behind his speaker cabinet switched guitars to a cheaper copy to smash. And smash he did. He flipped it up in the air and caught it- banged it against the speaker cabs flipped it again but missed and it landed on the stage. Then he proceeded to smash the guitar neck first into the stage floor repeatedly until there was just splinters. I remember looking around at all the parents in the audience to see their shocked expressions. But was it for the smashing of the guitar or the pounding of it into the gym's stage floor? I've been told the dents are still there. I looked at my watch-they played exactly 30 minutes.
Stay tuned.
Well then it was time for the Who to come on. The curtain was closed and there were 2 microphone stands alone on stage. I thought there was going to be some kind of dramatic entrance. No they merely walked up the steps at the side of the stage just like you were going to get your diploma. Keith Moon was last and he was carrying a big bundle of drum sticks under his arm. Why was he carrying all those sticks I wondered. I didn't have to wonder too long because the curtain parted they strapped on their guitars and Keith sat down at the drums and started to play" Can't Explain". Well I think it was the first time Keith did a 16th drum fill on the opening bar that he splintered a stick way out into the audience. All he did was reach down to the bundle and pick another one and not even miss a beat. Amazing. I think he must have broke half a dozen sticks that first song. He was on fire that night. They played several more songs that show and ended with the perennial "My Generation". Here it comes I thought --will they or won't they trash their instruments here in the High School gym. I mean I was sitting next to an elderly lady looking as old as my Grandmother for crying out loud. Well they did. In grand fashion. Pete had been playing a Fender Stratocaster all evening and right at the crucial moment a roadie behind his speaker cabinet switched guitars to a cheaper copy to smash. And smash he did. He flipped it up in the air and caught it- banged it against the speaker cabs flipped it again but missed and it landed on the stage. Then he proceeded to smash the guitar neck first into the stage floor repeatedly until there was just splinters. I remember looking around at all the parents in the audience to see their shocked expressions. But was it for the smashing of the guitar or the pounding of it into the gym's stage floor? I've been told the dents are still there. I looked at my watch-they played exactly 30 minutes.
Stay tuned.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Fore!
Ah the gentlemanly art of golf. Many books have been written on the subject and for good reason. It's a very polarizing topic. You either hate golf or love it. There's no in between. I on the other hand am going to approach the subject from an entirely different angle. You see I was a caddy. It was my very first job. This was at the Detroit Country Club. I know the concept of Detroit and country club sound foreign maybe today but this was early 1966 and the Motor City was a very happening place. The Ford family golfed there as well as many other movers and shakers back in the day.
Caddying didn't pay very much. It depended on whether you got out or not. There were some days I don't think I carried a bag at all. Twelve hours of nothing but watching TV or shooting baskets in the backyard. On those occasions I did carry all I made was about $3-4 including the tip which was about a quarter. Some of the little old ladies tipped a dime! But it was my first job.
Speaking of little old ladies one time I was caddying for this woman who took forever off the tee. She always played last and I wanted to get a head start to the next hole so I would start walking slowly ahead at an angle to her so as not to get hit if she sliced. Well this one time she was taking forever and I'm slowing walking saying to myself come on just hit it already. No go still at the tee. I wanted to get a head start because the golfers were driving carts and the caddies had to walk and invariably they would complain if you weren't there when they were. Anyway I'm getting ahead of her now and the angle is getting less and less me being more in the line of fire if she doesn't hit it soon. Finally she swings and sure enough swoosh right by my nose less than a foot away. I secretly think she planned it that way just to keep me on my toes.
I don't understand why more people aren't hit on the golf course. I was standing on the green holding the pin with my back to the tee my heel on the edge of a sand trap. The next thing I know I hear a thud behind me. I look around and there's a ball an inch behind my heel. Some golfer was antsy and teed off without waiting for our party to leave. "Fore"
By the way Henry Ford II tipped $5.00!
Stay tuned.
Caddying didn't pay very much. It depended on whether you got out or not. There were some days I don't think I carried a bag at all. Twelve hours of nothing but watching TV or shooting baskets in the backyard. On those occasions I did carry all I made was about $3-4 including the tip which was about a quarter. Some of the little old ladies tipped a dime! But it was my first job.
Speaking of little old ladies one time I was caddying for this woman who took forever off the tee. She always played last and I wanted to get a head start to the next hole so I would start walking slowly ahead at an angle to her so as not to get hit if she sliced. Well this one time she was taking forever and I'm slowing walking saying to myself come on just hit it already. No go still at the tee. I wanted to get a head start because the golfers were driving carts and the caddies had to walk and invariably they would complain if you weren't there when they were. Anyway I'm getting ahead of her now and the angle is getting less and less me being more in the line of fire if she doesn't hit it soon. Finally she swings and sure enough swoosh right by my nose less than a foot away. I secretly think she planned it that way just to keep me on my toes.
I don't understand why more people aren't hit on the golf course. I was standing on the green holding the pin with my back to the tee my heel on the edge of a sand trap. The next thing I know I hear a thud behind me. I look around and there's a ball an inch behind my heel. Some golfer was antsy and teed off without waiting for our party to leave. "Fore"
By the way Henry Ford II tipped $5.00!
Stay tuned.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Laurie's Flowers
Here are some pictures from Laurie's flower garden that bloomed last spring and summer. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
Stay tuned.
Touchdown!
Growing up my brothers and I loved to play sports. Our neighborhood was overwhelmingly boys. We used to play football in a large field behind our houses right up to and including snow on the ground. This one time it was late Autumn and there was a chill in the air. It had rained the day before and there was a sizable puddle near the corner of one end zone. It was cold enough that it was lightly frozen. If you stepped on it you would break through it.
Well the game got going and it was very spirited as most of our games tended to be. I remember one play where I was to run a corner pattern for a pass. That's where you run toward the middle of the field at a 45degree angle, fake and then run toward the corner of the end zone. Everything went well including the fake. I found myself wide open running to the corner. The quarterback saw me and threw a pass long and high in the direction of the corner end zone.
It's amazing what can go through your mind in just a few seconds. Here I am probably no more than 14 years old and I'm thinking that pass looks too long and high! I sure would like to catch it. But I'll really have to run and it looks like it's headed right for the giant half froze puddle in the corner. The only way I'm going to get it is if I jump as high as I can and lay out onto the ground. Which in this case meant the frozen puddle. What to do-hmmm.
There's no tv cameras no grandstands with cheering fans no huge contracts at stake no pretty cheerleaders to impress. Just a boy on a frozen field in the midwest in the mid 1960's. Just a pickup game. I swear all of that was going through my mind as I'm running to that corner. I thought to just let the ball go but I knew I could catch it so I went for it. CRACK--- SPLASH !
I laid there stunned. Everyone ran over to me to check if I was alright. Yeah I'm alright -just wet and cold I said. One of the other teams players looked at me on the ground cocking his head one way then the other. You know Dave actually I think really you are out of bounds. The others came and looked and the general agreement was that I was just out by inches! They all looked at each other and nodded in agreement. But that was the best pass catch we have ever seen they said so--TOUCHDOWN!
Stay tuned.
Well the game got going and it was very spirited as most of our games tended to be. I remember one play where I was to run a corner pattern for a pass. That's where you run toward the middle of the field at a 45degree angle, fake and then run toward the corner of the end zone. Everything went well including the fake. I found myself wide open running to the corner. The quarterback saw me and threw a pass long and high in the direction of the corner end zone.
It's amazing what can go through your mind in just a few seconds. Here I am probably no more than 14 years old and I'm thinking that pass looks too long and high! I sure would like to catch it. But I'll really have to run and it looks like it's headed right for the giant half froze puddle in the corner. The only way I'm going to get it is if I jump as high as I can and lay out onto the ground. Which in this case meant the frozen puddle. What to do-hmmm.
There's no tv cameras no grandstands with cheering fans no huge contracts at stake no pretty cheerleaders to impress. Just a boy on a frozen field in the midwest in the mid 1960's. Just a pickup game. I swear all of that was going through my mind as I'm running to that corner. I thought to just let the ball go but I knew I could catch it so I went for it. CRACK--- SPLASH !
I laid there stunned. Everyone ran over to me to check if I was alright. Yeah I'm alright -just wet and cold I said. One of the other teams players looked at me on the ground cocking his head one way then the other. You know Dave actually I think really you are out of bounds. The others came and looked and the general agreement was that I was just out by inches! They all looked at each other and nodded in agreement. But that was the best pass catch we have ever seen they said so--TOUCHDOWN!
Stay tuned.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
It's Five O'Clock in the Morning!!
When I first got married to Barb, my son Drew's mother, we lived in an apartment over a camera shop in downtown Mt. Pleasant. One dark and snowy night we got a phone call. I looked at the alarm clock. It said 5 o'clock in the morning. Who could this be I thought. Well I'm already awake so I thought I 'd answer. It was the Police! "Mr. Karl, do you know a Donnie *****". Why yes I do officer, is there anything wrong?, I said. Well, he said, it seems he parked his car in the middle of the street. If he doesn't move the car in 1 hour it will be towed away. Alright, I said, I'll let him know.
So Barb and I got dressed to go get Donnie. You see while Donnie lived only 2 blocks from us over a movie theater, he had no telephone. So we walked in the snowy, freezing cold early morning down to his place. It must have snowed a foot overnight. It looked nice in the lamplight downtown. We got to Donnie's but the door up to his apartment was locked so we walked around to the back where his bedroom window was. We tried calling his name to no avail. The clock was ticking. So we started to throw little stones up at his window. Once in a while we would hit it hopefully not too hard. Finally we see a little light go on and he came to the window. What do you want? he said. We told him -the police called us and said your car is parked in the middle of the street. You have less than an hour to move it or they will tow it. Say where is your car anyway? Normally he parked it right where we were standing. He said he was coming home late from some party and ran out of gas a couple miles away on the main drag out of town. He had to push his car up a hill in the foot of snow and when he came to a side street he turned it and pushed it to the curb and then walked the rest of the way home. He said his car definitely was not in the middle of the street. Well it doesn't matter I said they will tow you car if it isn't moved and now we only have half an hour to go. So we ran back down the block all the while trying to think of a gas station that would be open this time. By the time we got to our car we had it all planned out. We flew down the street to a gas station we knew was open. Got a couple gallon can of gas and drove down the slippery streets to where his car was parked. Believe it or not we had 10 minutes to spare.
When we got to where he had parked his car -it was gone! I looked at the street where it had been sitting and could see by the tire tracks that it had been no more than 2 feet at the most from the curb! Pretty good considering he pushed the car a half mile up a hill and turned into the side street and parked it in the snow who knew where the curb was anyway. We were upset to say the least. Where did the car go? Well they must have just towed it before we got there. So we went to the Police Station to find out where his car was. Sure enough they had the car towed and it was at car pound at the north end of town. I'm curious I said to the Policeman in charge. It was only 2 feet from the curb so why was it towed? Well he said it was in the middle of the street blocking traffic. In the middle of the street blocking traffic at five o'clock in the morning? It was only 2 feet away. There was no traffic it was a side street and it was 2 feet from the curb! Well he said it got towed. I'm also curious I said what time was the car towed? Let's see , he said looking at the report, it looks like it got towed at five o'clock this morning. WHAT!! That's when you guys called me and woke me up to tell me we had an hour to move the car or it would be towed! Sorry was all he could say. Believe me it took everything I had from leaping over the counter to get at him. I'm sure glad I didn't though. That would have ruined an otherwise glorious start to a cold winter's morning.
Just one thing before I go. How did the Police know that I knew Donnie? And how did they know my name? Just wondering.
P.S. We went to the pound to find his car right after we talked to the Police. The lot had a fence in front that was locked. Oddly enough there was no fence in the back! So we walked the couple blocks to the back filled his car with gas and away he drove. So I guess there was some kind of happy ending after all. By the way he never heard from them again. Neither did we. We moved to Lansing.
Stay tuned.
So Barb and I got dressed to go get Donnie. You see while Donnie lived only 2 blocks from us over a movie theater, he had no telephone. So we walked in the snowy, freezing cold early morning down to his place. It must have snowed a foot overnight. It looked nice in the lamplight downtown. We got to Donnie's but the door up to his apartment was locked so we walked around to the back where his bedroom window was. We tried calling his name to no avail. The clock was ticking. So we started to throw little stones up at his window. Once in a while we would hit it hopefully not too hard. Finally we see a little light go on and he came to the window. What do you want? he said. We told him -the police called us and said your car is parked in the middle of the street. You have less than an hour to move it or they will tow it. Say where is your car anyway? Normally he parked it right where we were standing. He said he was coming home late from some party and ran out of gas a couple miles away on the main drag out of town. He had to push his car up a hill in the foot of snow and when he came to a side street he turned it and pushed it to the curb and then walked the rest of the way home. He said his car definitely was not in the middle of the street. Well it doesn't matter I said they will tow you car if it isn't moved and now we only have half an hour to go. So we ran back down the block all the while trying to think of a gas station that would be open this time. By the time we got to our car we had it all planned out. We flew down the street to a gas station we knew was open. Got a couple gallon can of gas and drove down the slippery streets to where his car was parked. Believe it or not we had 10 minutes to spare.
When we got to where he had parked his car -it was gone! I looked at the street where it had been sitting and could see by the tire tracks that it had been no more than 2 feet at the most from the curb! Pretty good considering he pushed the car a half mile up a hill and turned into the side street and parked it in the snow who knew where the curb was anyway. We were upset to say the least. Where did the car go? Well they must have just towed it before we got there. So we went to the Police Station to find out where his car was. Sure enough they had the car towed and it was at car pound at the north end of town. I'm curious I said to the Policeman in charge. It was only 2 feet from the curb so why was it towed? Well he said it was in the middle of the street blocking traffic. In the middle of the street blocking traffic at five o'clock in the morning? It was only 2 feet away. There was no traffic it was a side street and it was 2 feet from the curb! Well he said it got towed. I'm also curious I said what time was the car towed? Let's see , he said looking at the report, it looks like it got towed at five o'clock this morning. WHAT!! That's when you guys called me and woke me up to tell me we had an hour to move the car or it would be towed! Sorry was all he could say. Believe me it took everything I had from leaping over the counter to get at him. I'm sure glad I didn't though. That would have ruined an otherwise glorious start to a cold winter's morning.
Just one thing before I go. How did the Police know that I knew Donnie? And how did they know my name? Just wondering.
P.S. We went to the pound to find his car right after we talked to the Police. The lot had a fence in front that was locked. Oddly enough there was no fence in the back! So we walked the couple blocks to the back filled his car with gas and away he drove. So I guess there was some kind of happy ending after all. By the way he never heard from them again. Neither did we. We moved to Lansing.
Stay tuned.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Your Aura is the Wrong Color
From time to time I had to supplement my meager income with a part time job. One such job was working for our local food co-op. I shopped there and enjoyed the people and atmosphere. I thought I would enjoy the work and get a discount on the food I would buy there anyway. At 40+ years old I was probably twice the age of the other employees excepting the manager. She was newly hired with the mandate of cleaning up the image of the co-op from the past as a place where hippies would shop and smoke pot in the back room. I fit the image they wanted to portray as someone older and more mature so the older people of the community would feel more comfortable shopping leading to increased sales hopefully. I had worked for a couple of weeks when the manager hired "Ron". Well let me tell you about Ron. He couldn't have been more opposite the mandate. Barely 21 with shoulder length hair he had a full beard, wore a long flowing robe, beads and bangles everywhere. Not that there's anything wrong with any of that, he just didn't fit the new scheme at all! Did I say he stank. If it wasn't B.O. it was cheap and strong Patchouly incense that seemed to follow him wherever he went. I questioned the manager about the wisdom of his hiring given that she wanted to erase the past image of the co-op as a hippie hangout. She replied but oh isn't he just marvelous he looks just like Jesus and isn't he just wonderful? Ok--I think I see where this is going.
But how was he as a worker? Well let me tell you. He constantly mixed up the beans in the bulk bins leading to us selling the mixture at a much reduced rate. Whenever the floor needed to be mopped he was never around. We bought a brand new computerized cash register to keep track of all the members purchases during the year so they would get money back depending on how much they bought. Ron spilled his soft drink into it shorting out the computer and losing several months worth of calculations. This despite being warned not to set drinks on the cash register. He was given the task of dropping off the days cash at the after hours bank deposit box. He forgot the first 3 days straight. I had to take over from then on. When it came time each week to unload the semi shipment he and the manager would stand outside and watch me unload it all by myself! Here he is a strapping 6 footer young in the prime of his life and they would criticize the way I unloaded the truck. As I struggled with 100 pound bags of beans and flour and whatnot. When I questioned the logic of Ron not helping she would say -well someone has to man the cash register.
Then one day the manager asked me into her office. She explained that I seemed to be complaining a lot and asked what was wrong. I told her about Ron not pulling his own weight and that I seemed to be doing most of the heavy work all 145 lbs of me. She replied that was not true and that she thought my aura was the wrong color. My aura is the wrong color? Oh yes she said she could see peoples' auras and mine was definitely the wrong color and that if I didn't change the color of my aura in 2 weeks that she would fire me.
So much for that mandate. I'm not sure if there is a moral to this story or not. I guess all stories don't have to have a moral . Anyway there it is. Of course my aura did not change color, even if I knew how to which I don't, I wouldn't have anyway. Last I heard of the manager she changed her name to Two Moons and moved to New Mexico. That's their problem.
Stay tuned.
But how was he as a worker? Well let me tell you. He constantly mixed up the beans in the bulk bins leading to us selling the mixture at a much reduced rate. Whenever the floor needed to be mopped he was never around. We bought a brand new computerized cash register to keep track of all the members purchases during the year so they would get money back depending on how much they bought. Ron spilled his soft drink into it shorting out the computer and losing several months worth of calculations. This despite being warned not to set drinks on the cash register. He was given the task of dropping off the days cash at the after hours bank deposit box. He forgot the first 3 days straight. I had to take over from then on. When it came time each week to unload the semi shipment he and the manager would stand outside and watch me unload it all by myself! Here he is a strapping 6 footer young in the prime of his life and they would criticize the way I unloaded the truck. As I struggled with 100 pound bags of beans and flour and whatnot. When I questioned the logic of Ron not helping she would say -well someone has to man the cash register.
Then one day the manager asked me into her office. She explained that I seemed to be complaining a lot and asked what was wrong. I told her about Ron not pulling his own weight and that I seemed to be doing most of the heavy work all 145 lbs of me. She replied that was not true and that she thought my aura was the wrong color. My aura is the wrong color? Oh yes she said she could see peoples' auras and mine was definitely the wrong color and that if I didn't change the color of my aura in 2 weeks that she would fire me.
So much for that mandate. I'm not sure if there is a moral to this story or not. I guess all stories don't have to have a moral . Anyway there it is. Of course my aura did not change color, even if I knew how to which I don't, I wouldn't have anyway. Last I heard of the manager she changed her name to Two Moons and moved to New Mexico. That's their problem.
Stay tuned.
Friday, July 22, 2011
En Garde!
In the Fall of 1967 my Freshman year in college my buddy said we should try out for the Fencing team. Fencing? You mean with the swords and all that swashbuckling stuff? Sure why not he said. Well number 1, we have never fenced before in our lives and number 2 -wait there doesn't even need to be a number 2 we've never fenced before you moron. But they're holding tryouts, no experience needed, he said. Being athletic most of my life I thought we could give it a shot. What's to lose anyway. Could be fun. No experience it said. Ok let's do it.
So we showed up and went through the preliminary program learning the basic fundamentals of fencing. It was a lot of hard work let me tell you. My muscles ached for days after each practice. Then one day the coach put up the list of people who made the cut for the team. Oh my-- I made it and so did my buddy! And not only did we make the team , we made the varsity as opposed to just the Freshman team. That was the first year they allowed Freshmen to play the varsity. The Lew Alcindor rule. Before he became Kareem. You know. Anyway I turned out to be pretty good fencing foil. The lightest of the swords. The one that bends real easy. The epee is built like the foil only thicker. It doesn't bend as easy. The saber is the third sword and is 3 sided built for slashing and scored differently.
Once in awhile we practiced with the women's team. But there was never enough protective equipment for everyone so of course the women got the chest protectors. So then we were paired boy-girl, boy girl with the women instructed to thrust and hit on the guys hipbone where we wouldn't feel it. I always seemed to draw the same young woman who when thrusting never could find my hipbone but instead hit me right above the hipbone in the soft part of my flesh just below the ribcage. It hurt, ok-and no amount of encouraging her to aim better seemed to help. I dreaded those practices.
Then our actual season started and one of our matches pitted ourselves with the number 1 rated team in the country. Our cross town rivals Wayne State. I was excited! Now I'm short for fencing at 5'9" but I made up for it by being very quick. I easily defeated much taller opponents which is why I made the varsity. So when I looked at my opponent I was shocked. He was shorter than me. About 3 inches shorter. I didn't know whether it was advantage to me or not. Maybe he was quicker. Well I found out "quick" enough. He was lightening fast! The match was over in minutes. I had managed to get in 1 touch only to his 4. The player to get 4 touches first wins. So I walked back to the bench dejected head held down. But as I got to the bench my teammates were all standing and clapping and cheering! What?--you guys he slaughtered me 4-1.Yes we know they said but you got one touch. So? I said. So they said no one has ever got a touch against him all year. You were the first they said. He was ranked number 1 in the country.
I had to quit the team later that year. It got to be too much traveling by city bus cross town to and from practices and I found that I was flunking most of my classes. The coach wept bitter tears but what could I do? I'm not going to college to be a fencer. What kind of career can you have as a fencer? A coach? Of course he told me he thought a lot of my abilities and said I would probably be ranked 1 or 2 in the country by senior year. Cold comfort if I can't pass my classes. And the athletes do get special treatment. I know I flunked my poly sci course. I drew a blank for the final yet still she gave me a "D". Now I know why all the basketball players were in my classes. En garde!
Stay tuned.
So we showed up and went through the preliminary program learning the basic fundamentals of fencing. It was a lot of hard work let me tell you. My muscles ached for days after each practice. Then one day the coach put up the list of people who made the cut for the team. Oh my-- I made it and so did my buddy! And not only did we make the team , we made the varsity as opposed to just the Freshman team. That was the first year they allowed Freshmen to play the varsity. The Lew Alcindor rule. Before he became Kareem. You know. Anyway I turned out to be pretty good fencing foil. The lightest of the swords. The one that bends real easy. The epee is built like the foil only thicker. It doesn't bend as easy. The saber is the third sword and is 3 sided built for slashing and scored differently.
Once in awhile we practiced with the women's team. But there was never enough protective equipment for everyone so of course the women got the chest protectors. So then we were paired boy-girl, boy girl with the women instructed to thrust and hit on the guys hipbone where we wouldn't feel it. I always seemed to draw the same young woman who when thrusting never could find my hipbone but instead hit me right above the hipbone in the soft part of my flesh just below the ribcage. It hurt, ok-and no amount of encouraging her to aim better seemed to help. I dreaded those practices.
Then our actual season started and one of our matches pitted ourselves with the number 1 rated team in the country. Our cross town rivals Wayne State. I was excited! Now I'm short for fencing at 5'9" but I made up for it by being very quick. I easily defeated much taller opponents which is why I made the varsity. So when I looked at my opponent I was shocked. He was shorter than me. About 3 inches shorter. I didn't know whether it was advantage to me or not. Maybe he was quicker. Well I found out "quick" enough. He was lightening fast! The match was over in minutes. I had managed to get in 1 touch only to his 4. The player to get 4 touches first wins. So I walked back to the bench dejected head held down. But as I got to the bench my teammates were all standing and clapping and cheering! What?--you guys he slaughtered me 4-1.Yes we know they said but you got one touch. So? I said. So they said no one has ever got a touch against him all year. You were the first they said. He was ranked number 1 in the country.
I had to quit the team later that year. It got to be too much traveling by city bus cross town to and from practices and I found that I was flunking most of my classes. The coach wept bitter tears but what could I do? I'm not going to college to be a fencer. What kind of career can you have as a fencer? A coach? Of course he told me he thought a lot of my abilities and said I would probably be ranked 1 or 2 in the country by senior year. Cold comfort if I can't pass my classes. And the athletes do get special treatment. I know I flunked my poly sci course. I drew a blank for the final yet still she gave me a "D". Now I know why all the basketball players were in my classes. En garde!
Stay tuned.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
My Hero!
I lived next door to Laurie. We shared a common wall dividing our units. There were times when she needed help doing things at her place and I was more than happy to help. One time she announced that she was going to hire someone to clean all her windows both inside and out. I said don't -I'll do it for you and you'll only have to pay me half as much. She said "Ha! You'll never do it". I said "Oh yeah -you just watch me". That bit about her paying me half as much was a joke. I wasn't going to charge her at all. But maybe I should have. I went through a whole bottle of window cleaner and several rolls of paper towel. It took me the whole afternoon. Whew! I never said I was good at it just that I would do it. Well they actually turned out great. She was well pleased.
My real triumph came one day when she was having problems with her sewer drain in the basement. Whenever I came over to visit I could faintly smell something wasn't right emanating from the basement. This had gone on for several days and finally I asked her about it and she said yeah that she had noticed something too. Then all of a sudden every time she washed the dishes or flushed the toilet it would back up into the basement. At first just a little then one day half the basement was flooded with this putrid black water. Yech! What to do. I told her plumbing is not my specialty so she should call Roto-Rooter. She did. They came out, roto rooted and left. But the mess was still there. In fact now it was worse! Again she was going to call someone and I told her to save her money. I would do the cleanup. She said "no, don't it's too awful". I said "leave it to me". Well it was a job from hell believe me. It took the whole day of cleaning, mopping, disinfecting and washing some clothes that were on the floor near the mess. The clothes I was wearing had to be burned of course and I had to take a couple of showers for me to get clean but when she got home after work she was amazed how good it looked and smelled. Including me!
She was happy! She said "Dave, now I truly know that you love me". You mean all the times I told you I loved you before you weren't sure? But this really proves to me that you do, she said. "My Hero". I'm sure there is a moral to the story. The say the quickest way to a man's heart is to feed him well. And I guess the quickest way to a woman's heart is clean her stinky basement. Don't seem fair does it? Leave comments below.
Stay tuned.
My real triumph came one day when she was having problems with her sewer drain in the basement. Whenever I came over to visit I could faintly smell something wasn't right emanating from the basement. This had gone on for several days and finally I asked her about it and she said yeah that she had noticed something too. Then all of a sudden every time she washed the dishes or flushed the toilet it would back up into the basement. At first just a little then one day half the basement was flooded with this putrid black water. Yech! What to do. I told her plumbing is not my specialty so she should call Roto-Rooter. She did. They came out, roto rooted and left. But the mess was still there. In fact now it was worse! Again she was going to call someone and I told her to save her money. I would do the cleanup. She said "no, don't it's too awful". I said "leave it to me". Well it was a job from hell believe me. It took the whole day of cleaning, mopping, disinfecting and washing some clothes that were on the floor near the mess. The clothes I was wearing had to be burned of course and I had to take a couple of showers for me to get clean but when she got home after work she was amazed how good it looked and smelled. Including me!
She was happy! She said "Dave, now I truly know that you love me". You mean all the times I told you I loved you before you weren't sure? But this really proves to me that you do, she said. "My Hero". I'm sure there is a moral to the story. The say the quickest way to a man's heart is to feed him well. And I guess the quickest way to a woman's heart is clean her stinky basement. Don't seem fair does it? Leave comments below.
Stay tuned.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Shaving with a Feather
I'm a wet shaver. I use a brush, soap in a mug or cream and a double edge razor. Always have since I was about 14 . Of course then I only needed to shave about once a week. There was a time in the 70's and 80's when I used a cartridge but still I was wet shaving. Never used electric probably never will. You see when I was working I shaved every day. It is a very mundane task and no man looks forward to it. So a little while ago I decided to make it fun and interesting. I went online and read shaving forums all about the gentlemanly art of face shaving. They got into all the fine details of the different aspects of wet shaving. The different soaps, creams, razors, blades, brushes, aftershaves and on and on. You wouldn't believe all the stuff there is in the wet shaving world. But this made shaving more interesting now! I looked forward to shaving every morning with this new ideal. Still do though I don't always shave every day now.
One day I was reading about razor blades . You wouldn't believe the variety of blades there are in the world today. The forum was talking about the worlds sharpest razor blade. The opinion of the forum was that it had to be the blade made by the Japanese company called Feather. They are a surgical instrument maker. These blades are extremely sharp to the Nth degree so much so that the forum advised against using them unless one had sufficient shaving experience. No noobies. Unless you wanted raw hamburger for a face . They are that sharp! I was intrigued. They also kept their edge much longer than regular blades too so they were economical. Where to buy. Well it turns out that Maison Edwards in Ann Arbor carries them so I bought a pack. I was all excited to try them out the next morning and told Laurie about them. She was horrified! "Don't use them" she begged me "you'll cut yourself " the look on her face was one of terror. I said not to worry because I had been shaving for 40 years with a double edge razor and I knew what I was doing. Inwardly I still had some fear but I was not to be daunted.
So the next morning I lather up put a Feather blade in my new Merkur razor and away I go . Wow! These are sharp! But no problems. Shaved like a dream. I told Laurie about my wonderful experience and she was still horrified and told me to be careful. Well the first 2 shaves -no problems. The next 2 I cut myself. Nothing major. You cut yourself from time to time with regular blades too. I adjusted my technique slightly and then shave 15 more times with the same blade with no problems. Great shaves one and all. Amazing! Normally I get 6 or 7 shaves from a blade so this was a real breakthrough in economy.
The pictures show three razors I use. The shiny silver one is the German made Mekrur . The black razor is my fathers razor issued him in the Army from WW2. The brass razor is my grandfathers from about 1915 it uses single edge blades similar to the kind you use in a utility knife. And of course a Feather blade.
Stay tuned.
One day I was reading about razor blades . You wouldn't believe the variety of blades there are in the world today. The forum was talking about the worlds sharpest razor blade. The opinion of the forum was that it had to be the blade made by the Japanese company called Feather. They are a surgical instrument maker. These blades are extremely sharp to the Nth degree so much so that the forum advised against using them unless one had sufficient shaving experience. No noobies. Unless you wanted raw hamburger for a face . They are that sharp! I was intrigued. They also kept their edge much longer than regular blades too so they were economical. Where to buy. Well it turns out that Maison Edwards in Ann Arbor carries them so I bought a pack. I was all excited to try them out the next morning and told Laurie about them. She was horrified! "Don't use them" she begged me "you'll cut yourself " the look on her face was one of terror. I said not to worry because I had been shaving for 40 years with a double edge razor and I knew what I was doing. Inwardly I still had some fear but I was not to be daunted.
So the next morning I lather up put a Feather blade in my new Merkur razor and away I go . Wow! These are sharp! But no problems. Shaved like a dream. I told Laurie about my wonderful experience and she was still horrified and told me to be careful. Well the first 2 shaves -no problems. The next 2 I cut myself. Nothing major. You cut yourself from time to time with regular blades too. I adjusted my technique slightly and then shave 15 more times with the same blade with no problems. Great shaves one and all. Amazing! Normally I get 6 or 7 shaves from a blade so this was a real breakthrough in economy.
The pictures show three razors I use. The shiny silver one is the German made Mekrur . The black razor is my fathers razor issued him in the Army from WW2. The brass razor is my grandfathers from about 1915 it uses single edge blades similar to the kind you use in a utility knife. And of course a Feather blade.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
A Step in Time
When I was 14 years old our family was on vacation along the shores of Lake Superior. We used to walk for miles up and down the beach looking for rocks and fossils. My dad tumbled the rocks to make jewelry out of them. We collected fossils for science projects in school. This one time I remember seeing a rock in the sand that looked like a foot. It had two kinds of stone mixed together. A kind of quartz and a dark black material. I turned it over and lo and behold there was a real footprint embedded in it. I couldn't believe it! Everybody was amazed and said I should take it to the science department at Cranbrook Institute.
Eventually I took it there and they studied it for a few weeks. They told me it was made out of basalt and quartzite if I remember correctly. As far as the footprint they said it was impossible to be human because the rock was 250 million years old. No humans around then. So I forgot about it and got on with my teenage life. My sister Mary even used it for a science project at school once. The years passed and as I became an adult I found myself moving quite a bit. When I got to be in my 40's I wanted to see it again to show some people. I couldn't find it! Desperate I looked all over to no avail. I thought I had lost it in one of my moves.
Years later it came to me. One of my moves resulted in my storing things at my parents place in Clare, Mi. I searched and searched and was rewarded with the discovery of the rock in a box in the back shed! Fantastic! I had it again. I even took it to the University of Michigan's geology dept. and got the same reply as before. No humans around 250 million years ago. Or were there?
Check the picture out for yourself. You be the judge. It's a footprint isn't it. Let me know in the comments below what you think.
Stay tuned.
Eventually I took it there and they studied it for a few weeks. They told me it was made out of basalt and quartzite if I remember correctly. As far as the footprint they said it was impossible to be human because the rock was 250 million years old. No humans around then. So I forgot about it and got on with my teenage life. My sister Mary even used it for a science project at school once. The years passed and as I became an adult I found myself moving quite a bit. When I got to be in my 40's I wanted to see it again to show some people. I couldn't find it! Desperate I looked all over to no avail. I thought I had lost it in one of my moves.
Years later it came to me. One of my moves resulted in my storing things at my parents place in Clare, Mi. I searched and searched and was rewarded with the discovery of the rock in a box in the back shed! Fantastic! I had it again. I even took it to the University of Michigan's geology dept. and got the same reply as before. No humans around 250 million years ago. Or were there?
Check the picture out for yourself. You be the judge. It's a footprint isn't it. Let me know in the comments below what you think.
You may now kiss the Bride
I've been photographing weddings since the early 70's. It's how I started my professional career. That and portraits of family and friends. This is about weddings and some funny and not so funny things that have happened. It all started when a friend of my brother Jim's said I could make some money with my camera. I was intrigued. How? Well he said take your camera round to all the photo studios in town and ask if they have any extra weddings . Studios back then in Detroit,
maybe they still do this I don't know, would book more weddings than they could shoot. Then they would rely on freelancers to do them for a set fee. That's where I would come in the picture. I found I could make $75 -100 a wedding! That was a lot of money back in those days where minimum wage was like $1.35/hr. I was making more money for a nights work than some of my friends were making in a whole week! At hard labor! I was hooked.
I have photographed hundreds of wedding over the years. My friends would always say -how can you stand it, all the pressure, dealing with the bride from hell or the mother from hell -and I would always say-I don't know but I love doing them. Photographing a wedding is like a performance. You are in charge really. They never realized it but I tried to work it so the whole wedding revolved around the photography. The more I was able to do this the smoother everything would go.
Some interesting episodes included the minister giving a sermon by starting out ( complete with ghoul lighting from below in a darkened chapel no less) a quote from Psalm 23 "yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death". What!! I looked around at the other people in the chapel and they were looking back at me just as surprized.
I did a biker wedding once. Nice people. The bride and groom were dressed in a tux and gown but everyone else had their leather and denim going on. Including all the guests. I sat in the church behind one guy with a huge wrench sticking out of his back pocket. I guess you never know when you might break down on your Harley. I watched a bride in her wedding gown putting nail polish on before the wedding. I can remember thinking, as a guy even, this is not going to end happily. And sure enough no sooner did I think that she spilled the entire bottle of polish down the center of her gown! She said "I can't believe I just did that". A bridesmaid came in and saw it and said "That's not going to come out". Duh , ya think!
I can't tell you how many times I've seen grooms pass out at the altar. Never once a bride . Some bridesmaids though and groomsmen. Once a couple wrote their own vows and when it came time for the groom to speak-nothing. We waited and waited -nothing. He just stood there. Eventually they led him off to the side sat him down spoke something to him he shook his head yes then got back up apologized to the congregation and read his lines perfectly. Cold feet maybe?
Speaking of which once in farm country everyone was at the church and I'm taking pictures of the wedding party beforehand. When I say I would like to photograph the groom they say that he wasn't there yet. Ok so we wait. And wait and wait and wait. This is not looking good at all. The bride has locked herself in a room and won't come out and the guests are getting antsy. No groom -still. After a couple hours in walks the grooms father and announces that the groom ain't coming he's on his way to Florida. I thought they were going to jump him. Well you can still have a party he said . All the food's at the hall so let's go. I didn't. I collected my fee and went home. A lesson learned. The groom may not show up but the photographer always gets paid.
I've photographed some weddings in beautiful locations. Like the really old church on Old Mission Point near Traverse City. And a quaint old church in Maine. By the way Maine really looks like it does in the movies. There not making that quaintness up.
I've been driven in golf carts around a golf course to get the picture the groom just had to have. Hanging on to dear life with one hand and my equipment with the other. The women let me in to the dressing room to take pictures of the bride getting ready and then lift their dresses up in front of me to adjust their underwear. I can't tell you how many times that has happened. I don't get it. It's always oh it's just the photographer he can come in and they're half dressed. Maybe it's like being a doctor. I don't know.
The best I saved for last. I was finishing up at the reception packing my equipment away and noticed a commotion at the door. It was a bunch of rowdy guys walking in. Motorcycle guys. Not the nice ones. The chains, mohawks, the dirty leather jackets and the nasty looks. I thought well I'm out of here and walked by them. Well the next time I saw the bride and groom they told me I missed all the excitement. The bikers poured a pitcher of beer over the bride's mother's head a riot broke out and the police had to be called in! You may now kiss the bride--
Stay tuned
maybe they still do this I don't know, would book more weddings than they could shoot. Then they would rely on freelancers to do them for a set fee. That's where I would come in the picture. I found I could make $75 -100 a wedding! That was a lot of money back in those days where minimum wage was like $1.35/hr. I was making more money for a nights work than some of my friends were making in a whole week! At hard labor! I was hooked.
I have photographed hundreds of wedding over the years. My friends would always say -how can you stand it, all the pressure, dealing with the bride from hell or the mother from hell -and I would always say-I don't know but I love doing them. Photographing a wedding is like a performance. You are in charge really. They never realized it but I tried to work it so the whole wedding revolved around the photography. The more I was able to do this the smoother everything would go.
Some interesting episodes included the minister giving a sermon by starting out ( complete with ghoul lighting from below in a darkened chapel no less) a quote from Psalm 23 "yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death". What!! I looked around at the other people in the chapel and they were looking back at me just as surprized.
I did a biker wedding once. Nice people. The bride and groom were dressed in a tux and gown but everyone else had their leather and denim going on. Including all the guests. I sat in the church behind one guy with a huge wrench sticking out of his back pocket. I guess you never know when you might break down on your Harley. I watched a bride in her wedding gown putting nail polish on before the wedding. I can remember thinking, as a guy even, this is not going to end happily. And sure enough no sooner did I think that she spilled the entire bottle of polish down the center of her gown! She said "I can't believe I just did that". A bridesmaid came in and saw it and said "That's not going to come out". Duh , ya think!
I can't tell you how many times I've seen grooms pass out at the altar. Never once a bride . Some bridesmaids though and groomsmen. Once a couple wrote their own vows and when it came time for the groom to speak-nothing. We waited and waited -nothing. He just stood there. Eventually they led him off to the side sat him down spoke something to him he shook his head yes then got back up apologized to the congregation and read his lines perfectly. Cold feet maybe?
Speaking of which once in farm country everyone was at the church and I'm taking pictures of the wedding party beforehand. When I say I would like to photograph the groom they say that he wasn't there yet. Ok so we wait. And wait and wait and wait. This is not looking good at all. The bride has locked herself in a room and won't come out and the guests are getting antsy. No groom -still. After a couple hours in walks the grooms father and announces that the groom ain't coming he's on his way to Florida. I thought they were going to jump him. Well you can still have a party he said . All the food's at the hall so let's go. I didn't. I collected my fee and went home. A lesson learned. The groom may not show up but the photographer always gets paid.
I've photographed some weddings in beautiful locations. Like the really old church on Old Mission Point near Traverse City. And a quaint old church in Maine. By the way Maine really looks like it does in the movies. There not making that quaintness up.
I've been driven in golf carts around a golf course to get the picture the groom just had to have. Hanging on to dear life with one hand and my equipment with the other. The women let me in to the dressing room to take pictures of the bride getting ready and then lift their dresses up in front of me to adjust their underwear. I can't tell you how many times that has happened. I don't get it. It's always oh it's just the photographer he can come in and they're half dressed. Maybe it's like being a doctor. I don't know.
The best I saved for last. I was finishing up at the reception packing my equipment away and noticed a commotion at the door. It was a bunch of rowdy guys walking in. Motorcycle guys. Not the nice ones. The chains, mohawks, the dirty leather jackets and the nasty looks. I thought well I'm out of here and walked by them. Well the next time I saw the bride and groom they told me I missed all the excitement. The bikers poured a pitcher of beer over the bride's mother's head a riot broke out and the police had to be called in! You may now kiss the bride--
Stay tuned
Monday, July 18, 2011
Let's run away and join the circus!
I remember going to the circus when I was a young boy. The big top, clowns, animals, the cotton candy you know the circus. But even as a child I could see that something wasn't right . The performers seemed sad somehow. Just going through the motions. The animals looked sad and seemed like they were mistreated what with the whips and sticks poking and prodding them. I was never much of a fan after that experience.
But many years later a new circus came into town so to speak-one without animals to be mistreated and performers who actually looked like they were enjoying themselves. Could this be? Cirque Du Soleil was a breath of fresh air for people who longed for the magic of the ideal circus. That experience we all longed for as children and adults. I immediately zeroed in on what they were doing . I was only able to watch them on television at first then VHS tapes and then DVDs. All the shows were spectacular . It wasn't till the year 2000 that I made up my mind to go see them in person.
I did everything online which was quite an accomplishment back then (still is if you want to know the truth) I picked the city, the date, the seats and time . I bought the most expensive tickets I could. Front row center. The only way to go I'm telling you. If you make all the effort to go to another city and stay overnight etc. why skimp on the tickets. You will not regret it.
What an experience! All senses are involved to the max. Sensory overload. But in a very pleasant way! The costumes, the lighting , staging , music and performers were all excellent. I've been to see them 5 times the last 2 with Laurie in Toronto. Everything about the Cirque is first class all the way. The music is live not canned. The best sound system I've ever heard. The big top tent is air conditioned. There is not a bad seat in the house. The front row seats put you right in on the action. Performers fly right over your head during performances. At one show the young Asian girls spinning the spools dropped one and it shot right into the audience hitting a woman right next to Laurie. I'm telling you within seconds there were two ushers right there to make sure she was alright. All your emotions are involved . There are scenes of incredible athleticism, tenderness, sadness, joy beauty, wonderment, love and everything that can be found in the human experience. You leave one of the shows on a high that lasts really for days.
Laurie and I were so taken with the production standards and the the close knit teamwork and the joyfulness of the Cirque we actually looked into finding jobs with them . Not as performers but behind the scenes in their offices in Montreal. Wouldn't that have been great! But then reality sets in and you realize you already have a wonderful life right were you are. Oh well there's always the next show.
P.S. The porta johns outside the tent flush and there's running water to wash up with. Wonderful!
Stay tuned
But many years later a new circus came into town so to speak-one without animals to be mistreated and performers who actually looked like they were enjoying themselves. Could this be? Cirque Du Soleil was a breath of fresh air for people who longed for the magic of the ideal circus. That experience we all longed for as children and adults. I immediately zeroed in on what they were doing . I was only able to watch them on television at first then VHS tapes and then DVDs. All the shows were spectacular . It wasn't till the year 2000 that I made up my mind to go see them in person.
I did everything online which was quite an accomplishment back then (still is if you want to know the truth) I picked the city, the date, the seats and time . I bought the most expensive tickets I could. Front row center. The only way to go I'm telling you. If you make all the effort to go to another city and stay overnight etc. why skimp on the tickets. You will not regret it.
What an experience! All senses are involved to the max. Sensory overload. But in a very pleasant way! The costumes, the lighting , staging , music and performers were all excellent. I've been to see them 5 times the last 2 with Laurie in Toronto. Everything about the Cirque is first class all the way. The music is live not canned. The best sound system I've ever heard. The big top tent is air conditioned. There is not a bad seat in the house. The front row seats put you right in on the action. Performers fly right over your head during performances. At one show the young Asian girls spinning the spools dropped one and it shot right into the audience hitting a woman right next to Laurie. I'm telling you within seconds there were two ushers right there to make sure she was alright. All your emotions are involved . There are scenes of incredible athleticism, tenderness, sadness, joy beauty, wonderment, love and everything that can be found in the human experience. You leave one of the shows on a high that lasts really for days.
Laurie and I were so taken with the production standards and the the close knit teamwork and the joyfulness of the Cirque we actually looked into finding jobs with them . Not as performers but behind the scenes in their offices in Montreal. Wouldn't that have been great! But then reality sets in and you realize you already have a wonderful life right were you are. Oh well there's always the next show.
P.S. The porta johns outside the tent flush and there's running water to wash up with. Wonderful!
Stay tuned
Sunday, July 17, 2011
A bus ride into the Twilight Zone
I went to an all boys Catholic Prep High School. More on that one later! My Junior year our basketball team was doing really well and we made it to the quarter finals of the state championship. The game was to be played in Pontiac, Mi. and our school was in Detroit. So that meant we took the school bus to the game.
It was a dark and stormy night-wait where have I heard that one before-of course it was dark it was night. Who writes like this anyway. It was dark and it was stormy and as we drove the 70 or so miles to Pontiac the rain let up but fog appeared getting denser and denser the closer we got to Pontiac. At the school were the game was to be played the bus driver pulled into the huge parking lot and announced that he couldn't see very well and he couldn't find his way to the school entrance. But why was he driving so fast if he couldn't see well? So I thought I would help him out by opening the window and sticking my head out to see where we were. Nothing but the dense fog. I couldn't see anything. Then I heard a little voice in my head saying to get your head back in . I did. No sooner than I did about 2 seconds later a metal light pole came rushing by the bus inches and I mean inches from us.
To this day I don't even want to think what might have happened. I don't even want --I'm not talking about it anymore. Guardian Angels anyone?
By the way -we lost the game in the last second on a controversial play. But the good news is I'm here to write about it. See it all works out for the best really.
Stay tuned
It was a dark and stormy night-wait where have I heard that one before-of course it was dark it was night. Who writes like this anyway. It was dark and it was stormy and as we drove the 70 or so miles to Pontiac the rain let up but fog appeared getting denser and denser the closer we got to Pontiac. At the school were the game was to be played the bus driver pulled into the huge parking lot and announced that he couldn't see very well and he couldn't find his way to the school entrance. But why was he driving so fast if he couldn't see well? So I thought I would help him out by opening the window and sticking my head out to see where we were. Nothing but the dense fog. I couldn't see anything. Then I heard a little voice in my head saying to get your head back in . I did. No sooner than I did about 2 seconds later a metal light pole came rushing by the bus inches and I mean inches from us.
To this day I don't even want to think what might have happened. I don't even want --I'm not talking about it anymore. Guardian Angels anyone?
By the way -we lost the game in the last second on a controversial play. But the good news is I'm here to write about it. See it all works out for the best really.
Stay tuned
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Peonies
at it too. Lots of opportunity to learn. God's creation, beauty,
These are peonies. I never liked peonies that much. Maybe it's the name. I don't know -my mother grew them she liked them. Not as much as her prized roses though. But they were big and showy plants and were colorful. I just never knew they came in so many different varieties. Laurie liked peonies and she grew several varieties I had never seen before. Like these. These I like. They are very pretty and
them for all to enjoy.
Stay tuned.
Beginnings
Ok so this is my first post. Not sure why I'm doing this now. However I just felt a need to be able to express myself. God knows my son Drew and my brother and sister listen to my ranting and raving enough as it is. But they live here and there and what with our fast pace lives we lead are not always available at a given moment when inspiration hits. Plus there's the extended family and friends and the odd soul passing like ships in the night that might stop by for some amusement. I've been told I tell a good story so there could be something for everyone.
But I suspect the real reason might be something else. I still miss my sweetheart Laurie. Laurie and I knew each other for about 11 years. She was my neighbor , friend , bandmate and sweetheart. She passed away Jan. 16, 2010 from cancer. I guess I miss having that someone special to share stuff with on a daily basis. And she was special. This blog isn't intended to be maudlin but just to let those who might not know what the references are.
Stay tuned. That low E string is the worst.
But I suspect the real reason might be something else. I still miss my sweetheart Laurie. Laurie and I knew each other for about 11 years. She was my neighbor , friend , bandmate and sweetheart. She passed away Jan. 16, 2010 from cancer. I guess I miss having that someone special to share stuff with on a daily basis. And she was special. This blog isn't intended to be maudlin but just to let those who might not know what the references are.
Stay tuned. That low E string is the worst.
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