Category Archives: Musings

Gimme Something Good

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It’s been 43 days since June 27 and my last post to this blog. On August 1, 2017 I saw a great show by Ryan Adams at The Pageant in St. Louis. The first four lines of the 3rd song of the evening pretty much describes my state of mind since my 6/27/17 post:

“I can’t talk
My mind is so blank
So I’m going for a walk
I’ve got nothing left to say…”

OK.
That’s a Lie. My mind has not been blank. I’ve got lots to say….

During those 43 days there was a road trip. A good one. A very good one.
There were concerts. Very, very good ones. Santana; Shovels and Rope; Avett Brothers; Wood Brothers; Tedeschi Trucks Band; Ryan Adams. (All of them provided my journal with a list of Desert Island Disk lists….)
There were several rant-inducing events since 6/27/17:
(1) Someone broke into my car and stole my fishing tackle…which included lures that had moved with me to Orygun in 1976. Fuck Me!
(2) There was the invasion by Japanese Beetles….hungry, horny pests. Fuckers.
(3)There was a visit by the apartment’s Rent-a-Cop, followed up by an official “Notice of Noise Violation” by management! Come on…who listens to Neil Young or Bruce Springsteen on a late Friday afternoon without cranking it up?!? Fuck me Twice!

All of the above gave rise to quite a few posts on Facebook. At least 70 statuses, many of which included pictures.
And while I didn’t hit my journal’s daily target of 500 words during the 43 days, it was close.
Then there are the items that got added to the “stories” folder on my laptop.

There has been writing…my mind hasn’t been blank for the past month-and-a-half.
It has been cluttered with the crazy shit coming out of the nation’s capitol. I’ve generally avoided being overtly political in this space. But it’s been hard, especially with the blatant LIES, total incompetence, and authoritarian audacities coming from 45 and his cretinous cabinet.
As much as I’d like to go on a long political rant here and now, I’m going to resist the urge….
I will say this though: read “Giant of the Senate” by Al Franken.  This is from Page 373:  
-=-=-=
Also running through my head, and on repeat in the apartment and in the car, has been Jason Isbell’s latest album. One song in particular.
I have a Love/Hate relationship with “If we were vampires” from “The Nashville Sound.”
Especially with these six lines:

“It’s knowing that this can’t go on forever
Likely one of us will have to spend some days alone
Maybe we’ll get forty years together
But one day I’ll be gone or one day you’ll be gone

If we were vampires and death was a joke
We’d go out on the sidewalk and smoke…”
-=-=
I’ve been in love with 2 people in my life.
I was married to one of them for almost 40 years. We weren’t “in love” for a good portion of that time. That’s history. Lots of it foggy. I hope she is happy.

I live with the second person. She’s may partner on this journey. Shelly and I will be having our five-year “meet-aversary” in a couple of months.
We’re too old to expect 40 years together.
One day I’ll be gone or she’ll be gone.

Eight more lines from a song from Isbell’s latest album are closer to the truth than the four from above by Ryan Adams.
These are damned near dead on:

“I broke a promise to myself
Ride the Throttle til the wheels came off
Burn out like a Molotov
In the night sky
I broke a promise to myself
Made a couple to a brown eyed girl
Who rode with me through the mean ol’ world
Never Say Die..”

Very few of the people I ran with in my 20s would have given me a chance to have a lot of birthdays ending in zero. I have one in 13 months. It’s a wonder I made it to 30.
The throttle has been pushed to the floor a time or two. OK…maybe I am a little burned out. That’s for another day…

Both of my loves have been brown-eyed girls.
I’m sure there were some promises made.
Some were broken.
Some might be.
This one won’t be: Never say die. Resist the bull shit. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.

I think I’ll go out on the balcony and smoke.
And then take a walk.
Be. Just Be.

I was a troll…

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Sgt. Joe Friday apparently never said it, but this piece will be the Jack Webb version: “Just the facts, ma’am.”
{Apparently he did often say: “All we want are the facts, ma’am”and sometimes “All we know are the facts ma’am”}

It was the years 2000 and 2001.
It was the years of the presidential election that was decided by the SCOTUS.
I had a new job.
It was my last W-2 job.
I received mail in Tampa.
I reported to two people: one in Virginia Beach; the other in Parsippany.
When I wasn’t in one of those two cities, I was sleeping in a hotel somewhere in the lower 48, unless I was lucky enough to be working from my home office.
I was racking up LOTS of frequent flyer miles and hotel points.
I had lots of “alone time” in hotel rooms.

The job required me to be on my laptop, in a meeting or on the phone…or a combination of the three…six days a week…minimum.
I’m pretty sure that I’ve written that I used to “work hard and play hard.”
This new job required a significant amount of the former.
The Yahoo message boards provided much of the latter, i.e. play.

Long before 1996 when Warren Zevon sang “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” that was my lifestyle.
Up with the sun…or before.
Seldom in bed before midnight; usually not until 1 or 2.

Lots of those nights in 2000 and 2001 I was online for work purposes until god knows when.
There is a good chance that I would also be having some evening and nighttime fun, anonymously jousting at the “fact-free droolers.”
By 9 o’clock every evening, sitting in a hotel room or on those nights when I was lucky enough to be home, I became “Wet Willie” online.

Pretty much everyone on the message boards was anonymous.
One of the most obnoxious, and fact-free, regulars went by the moniker “Labrat.”
Like many of those online today, the Labrat and many others were prone to spew “alternative facts.”

I have always had some pet peeves, with bald faced lies, hypocrisy and willful ignorance at the top of the list.
When I caught the Labrat in a blatant lie about his military service, allegedly serving in a unit that wasn’t even in existence when he claimed it was and was never assigned to the base that he claimed, I pounced.
My online moniker changed from Wet Willie to “Labrat_the_Liar.”
Many an evening I gave the cretin hell, with a link proving that he was a Liar.
He wasn’t the only one to get nailed by one of my profiles for posting lies and bullshit.

The Internet has changed a LOT in the last 17 years.
Read “Why we’re losing the Internet to the culture of hate.”
The “online disinhibition effect” has unleashed hatred.
Today’s trolls say they’re doing it for “lulz” which often goes beyond poking and jousting to threats and harassments.

I said I was living in Florida at the time, right.
It was my second time living in that flat, humid, critter infested, loony tune electing swamp land.
{Floriduh does have some great beaches…winter beaches.}
It was like living in the Northwest back in 1980, and once again people who didn’t live there made “when is it gonna blow?” part of the conversation.

2017 looks like a powder-keg to me.
Too bad there aren’t do overs.
I understood why someone would not vote for Hillary Clinton.
I will NEVER understand why anyone thought that he who shall go down in history as 45 would make a good president?!?

What is even more puzzling is why people still support him?
They’d get Pence out of the closet and into the Oval Office with both the House and Senate jettisoning the thin-skinned, incompetent G&S in Chief.
That’s “Grifter-and Snowflake in Chief.”

In 2000-2001 I was more of a pest than a troll.
Today I’m still a bit of a pest.
Sometimes I do cross the line…and I feel awful when I realize that I had spewed (and probably started a firestorm) on a friend’s thread, rather than on a news feed.
When I started this blog a friend told me (and I’m sure that other friends hoped it): “please don’t get all political!?”
Well, my friend didn’t get her wish…

Hang on.
It’s gonna be a wild ride.

Until then: Be. Just BE.

“We’re all gonna die….”

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On Saturday, March 18, 2017 I spent a few hours at the viewing for my late Uncle Joe, dead too soon at only 77. He survived the “widow maker heart attack” (which has a 90% kill rate) for about 30 years. It took three decades for a complete closure of the left anterior descending coronary artery to kill him. Still not long enough…

To attend the viewing, I did an “over-and-back” to the county where my Mom’s family has lived almost their entire lives. If it wasn’t for the military in the case of her three brothers, she would’ve been the only member of her immediate family to ever receive mail someplace other than St. Francois county, MO.

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Ultimate Bucket list…the book and the e-mails

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ultimate-bucket-list

March 13, 2017.
Weather sucks. In the mid-thirties for the high temp.. My “early garden” is probably toast. Fuck me.
But it will all be good. Nothing ventured…and all that. 5 bucks of seeds and i’m back in business.
I’m gonna go cover my garden as soon as I post this. I repeat: Fuck Me!

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I have a Lot of questions…A Lot.

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I’ve got a lot of questions….and I have had for as long as I can remember.  I probably always will have more questions than answers.

I remember a time when I was probably 5 or 6 years old. The older of two boys who lived next door to my Grandma Ruth was doing chores, including cleaning out the gutters. Jerry was probably 12 or 13 at the time. Up on that ladder, he was trapped.

I have no idea what I was asking him about that day. I do remember that I had a lot of questions. Some of his answers resulted in more questions.

I remember my Grandma telling me to leave him alone. “Let him do his work!!”

I remember Jerry, about a dozen questions into the inquisition, saying that I should listen to my Grandma. I remember her coming out again, telling me to stop with all the questions.

I didn’t stop until she made me come in the house.
-=-=-=
If you’ve been paying attention, you know that I am a huge fan of the KC-based band The Rainmakers and that I love many of Bob Walkenhorst’s lyrics.

There is lots that hit’s home for me in the lyrics of “Long gone long.” Lots of the lines could have been mine.

1. I often have the “ready to get out of here” feeling. (I never expected to live in MO again…and don’t plan to die here. But I’m not a planner, so who knows where I’ll be having my mail delivered when I take my last breath?)
2. There are the freight trains hauling new cars. (Never used a 22….i preferred golf ball sized rocks….)
3. There is drinking underneath the stars. (Been there. Done that. Haven’t done nearly of enough of it. Need to do LOTS more of that….)
-=-=-==
Then there is a line that I gotta take exception with…it’s the second line of the song: “Fewer things puzzle me than when I was young.”
On this Groundhog Day of 2017, more things puzzle me than ever before. Not fewer. It’s not even close.

I’ve got more questions today than probably at any other time in my life. They’re rattling around inside my head. They are not simply rhetorical questions.
But these questions don’t seem to have answers. At least not satisfactory answers.

And I gotta take exception with this line from the song too: “Is something going on, I tell you nothing’s going on.”

Oh, something is going on alright.

And it scares the shit out of me. We got a guy about to become a member of the National Security Council who said: “I’m a Leninist. Lenin wanted to destroy the state, and that’s my goal too. I want to bring everything crashing down, and destroy all of today’s establishment.” Steve Bannon is a seriously bad hombre, who should be shuffled off to Siberia.
-=-=-=
I’m not gonna list a bunch of the questions flying around inside my head. What’s the point? You can probably guess what some of them would be. But I do have two questions….

The last line of “Long gone long” is this: “Goodbye to more than either of us could have known.”

My first question: What are we as a nation saying goodbye to….and why would anyone be so delusional and/or filled with anger, hate, and bigotry to think that anything taking place in D.C. since January 20 is “making America great again”?
-=-=-=
I do not want to say goodbye to the advances in the human condition that people fought and bled for. Something is going on. And it’s destructive. And evil. And immoral. And people with power are sitting on their hands with their eyes closed.

Last question: When will this lunacy in D.C. end?

 

Things that survived the move to Mo: Part One (KY jelly and athletic cup)

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In early 2011, my marriage of 37 years ended. A few months later I moved back to Missouri…and I was traveling lightly.

I never expected to live in the Show-Me state again. After we left MO over 40 years ago, when we had to pick our first password (probably for an ATM in Corvallis), we chose “misery.” Over the years, when required to change passwords, we went with misery1, misery!1, Mi$ery, etc. I was still using it in 2011.

She might still use a variation of that word. I have no idea.

What I do know is that my heart is still in Oregon; I never want to live in Floriduh again; and I’ve got lots of soft spots for Missouri these days. Lots of them.

I’m not expecting to pick up and move west soon. But then, I’ve never been much of a planner. When I do move again, it will NOT require an 18 wheeler, as 3 of our cross country moves did.
It won’t even require an 18 foot truck.
-=-=-=
Ok… a little bit re the 2011 move itself, from Tampa to my sister’s at Table Rock Lake: 1 (one) box with my amplifier, cd changer and turntable came via UPS; my car trunk was packed with the essentials; the only piece of furniture that moved was in my backseat…the kiddie rocking chair my folks got for me when I was 2.

Everything else was shipped via the United States Postal Service. About 30 boxes. Most of it came via the “media” rate: books, cds, vinyl, slides, pictures. There is a story there…but not today.

I travel lightly these days, relatively speaking….compared to most people…and compared to myself 15 or 20 years ago. But there was a lot more stuff moving back to MO in 2011 than had left in 1976, when EVERYTHING fit into my 1976 Beetle, so I haven’t gone full circle.
-=-=-=
A couple of recent days were “purging days.” I tossed, recycled and shredded a lot of things those two purging days. But I still have too much stuff.

I came across lots of interesting things during the 2-day purge. Lots. I coulda spent a few hours with each of several of the boxes I sorted thru. I’m sure there are some stories there.

There were some letters I’d like to have the time to read. If I only had the time….

{I haven’t hit a tap since I sold my 2nd and last franchised store back in early 2011…but I never seem to have enough time to get everything done?? What’s up with that?}
-=-=-=

And then were the things that are pictured here. I don’t think I ever knew who did the wood carving. I assume that the words were the result of a group effort of several folks on my team. There were lots of memorable times after I transferred to Sarasota. Most of them good. And mostly because of the people.

I was on a few great teams during my years at Arthur Andersen. My roles changed several times over the years, but I don’t think I ever really enjoyed a team more than the State Manager and Tax Director teams who honored me with these plaques.
-=-=-=
I have been told that I have a pretty good memory. It, however, is not improving. This is my third time living in Springfield, MO. The first time here, I won first place in a contest for the teenage sunday school class at the largest baptist church in town. I memorized a shitload of bible verses. Lots more than the person who won the red ribbon. Lots more. It wasn’t close.

Today about the only verse I could get right would be John 11:35. I’d have to struggle to tell you what I did last Thursday….and I doubt I could memorize 100 words of dialogue.

So here’s what I remember about the prized possessions pictured here, with my memory distorted by time and a work-hard-play hard history.

I received the first one at the one and only surprise party that was even thrown for me. (That is a separate story….it was my 10th anniversary with AA&Co.)aattg-survival

In the first couple of years that I was in SRQ, I occasionally went to lunch with a fellow who had transferred from Dallas. We would laugh at what a mess the office was organizationally. It was black humor, as the place really was fucked up….especially for the “red-headed, step child”…i.e., my product and teams. He and I would often say that I should have a tube of lube in my credenza along with the fifth of Maker’s Mark.

When Frick or Frack stopped in to say something idiotic, David said that I should just open the credenza door and say “you don’t mind if I have a couple of fingers first and a little jelly before you tell me to bend over again, do you?” (I wrote about Frick & Frack back in October….)

One day David and I had lunch at a new Amish restaurant in town that was in a strip center with a RiteAid. After the obligatory piece of pie and discussion for the continued need for lubricant, we walked into the pharmacy and I purchased a tube of KY.
-=-=-=
I never did say, to their faces, what he suggested. But it was close a few times. I did have a few discourse doozies with F&F.

I did pull the tube out to make a point quite a few times when my door was closed. It was always fun to press the button under my desk that released the door, have the person react to the door closing behind them, and then see me reaching inside my credenza.

I’m sure that some of the folks who worked for me in the trenches had that experience. They knew where I kept the KY. And when they presented me with the plaque everyone knew what I was thinking. Later, I often displayed the plaque on a book shelf in my office.
-=-=-=
The plaque with the cup was given to me at an office wide holiday meeting/party. I was pretty speechless when I was handed this plaque in front of 250 people.support_the-cup

My team came thru for me more times than I could count. They also knew that I would got to bat for them. They knew that I would not be silent about things that matter. I had to dust myself off sometimes.

My memory ain’t what it used to be, but I remember driving home with a plaque riding shotgun, music cranked up to 11, smiling from ear to ear and laughing at my good fortune.
-=-=-=

I often have trouble finding the right words. I’m sure that I stammered and stuttered when I received each of these plaques. Heck, I can’t find the right words now…25 years later.

Life was good then. It’s good now. I was fortunate to have worked with lots of good folks. They made my life better. Some of them still do. They gave me lots of good memories.

The test begins now….

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This morning I’m thinking about lots of things.

Some of them don’t matter all that much:
…it’s Friday the 13th and the moon is full
…will the ice keep me from attending day 2 of the Bass Pro Tournament of Champions?
…will the omelet I just made taste as good as it looks?
…will Wayne Coyne, front man of The Flaming Lips, have a happy birthday?

Some things matter more. Lots more.

Today a good friend will be in Omaha to bury his father. Tom’s dad’s death was “expected, yet sudden and sad.” He thought he had said goodbye several years ago when his dad no longer knew who he was, but this is an unexpectedly hard goodbye.

When my Mom died in 2013 I heard a phrase that has stuck with me. It was appropriate for me then, as it is now for Tom and Gloria: saddened, but relieved.
-=-=-=
Some lyrics from a couple of Flaming Lips songs have been rattling around in my head off and on since Gloria sent me the text about the death of a man who won the Bronze Star while serving in the Airborne in Korea.

“Do you realize that everyone you know someday will die
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes, let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It’s hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn’t go down
It’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round…”

And from “Fight Test”:

“I don’t know where the sun beams end and the star lights begin
It’s all a mystery
And I don’t know how a man decides what right for his own life
It’s all a mystery…”
-=-=-=

I have lots and lots of questions. I don’t have many answers. Pretty much everything is a mystery to me.

But I do know this much:

Give lots of hugs.
Tell the people who you love how you feel. Tell them now.
And be.
Just BE.

Thinking about firsts…

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It’s the end of something. This is the last day of 2016.

I’m looking back for a bit, while focusing on the future.

I’m thinking about some firsts.

1. The first time I stepped foot in Oregon.
We had driven a 2 car VW caravan from Washington, MO. Heading for Corvallis. Hoping she would be accepted into grad school at Oregon State. I had no plans.

There are some stories there, but here’s what happened the first time I ever touched terra firma in the Beaver state.

The first sounds I heard: “Stop!! You can’t do that…”

All I was trying to do was pump gas. I’d been doing it for years. It was illegal in Orygun that Sept ’76 day. It still is. (I got a gas station story from NJ…the other state that bans self pumped gasoline.)

2. The first time I got “throw up drunk.”
It was homemade wine. It was in Monett. I could take you to within 100 yards of my first ever technicolor yawn. I remember lots of that night, before and after the puking.

3. The first…and only time…my ex saw me throw up drunk.
I could take you to the toilet in the house where I wretched and she laughed. I drove by that house at 402 Center street in Farmington 2 days ago.

4. The first time I was at the Rock House.
I’ve written about that before. It’s in the archives somewhere.

5. The first time I heard Bob Walkenhorst and Jeff Porter of the Rainmakers at The Rock House.
Ditto. It’s in the archives.

6. The first time I had sex with the woman I love.
What happened in A-306, stays there.

7. The first time I heard one of my life mottos.
It was Oct. 2, 2002. I was in an oceanfront room in Virginia Beach. There was one guest on Letterman. After the show a friend and I had an online chat about that night.
The motto: “enjoy every sandwich”. My version: “enjoy every bite of ever sandwich.”

The entire quote from Warren Zevon: “You put more value on every minute, you do. I always thought I kind of did that. I really always enjoyed myself. But it’s more valuable now. You’re reminded to enjoy every sandwich and every minute of playing with the guys, and being with the kids and–”

Sounds like a plan.
-=-=-=-=
Thinking about other firsts too. More than just these 7. Some behind me. Some ahead. Looking forward to a kick ass year in 2017.

Be. Just BE.

Don’t give up….Don’t ever give up!!

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Last night was the Jimmy V Classic. It’s an annual doubleheader of college basketball played in Madison Square Garden every year since 1995. ESPN organizes the event each year to raise money and awareness for cancer research.

But this is NOT about basketball. Last night I watched maybe 10 minutes of basketball.

But I did watch “The Speech” last night. They broadcast it every year between games. I listen to some songs over and over. Speeches are different. Jim Valvano’s speech at the initial ESPY Awards in 1993 is one of the few speeches that I have watched and listened to repeatedly. I watched it again this morning.

Brief background: Valvano was a basketball coach and is well known for his 1983 NC State team winning the national title against long odds. (I’ve got a dozy of a story about that tournament. Some day….)

When he received the inaugural Arthur Ashe Courage and Humanitarian Award at the 1983 ESPYs, he made this memorable speech and also announced the creation of The V Foundation for Cancer Research.

He died 8 weeks later.

There are several unfogettable moments in the speech.

There is the story of his Vince Lombardi speech to the first team he ever coached. I literally laugh out loud every time I hear this story.

There are his comments when the teleprompter starts flashing that he has thirty seconds left: “They got that screen up there flashing 30 seconds, like I care about that screen. I got tumors all over my body and I’m worried about some guy in the back going 30 seconds. Hey va fa napoli, buddy.” I have no idea what the last sentence means….and I don’t care.

There is the motto of the V Foundation: “Don’t give up…don’t ever give up.”

And there are these words to live by: “To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that’s a full day. That’s a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you’re going to have something special.”

If you’ve never watched the speech: do it. If you have: watch it again.

It’s something special.

My life is Bountiful

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I’m not sure when I started doing it. I think it was after Shelly and I moved in together in 2013, but it might have been before then.

I read (or more accurately “skim”) the local paper most mornings in the lobby. I will sometimes send Shelly a text of her horoscope, and sometimes I will include mine. I don’t give much credence to them…or to weather forecasts either…but sometimes I find the former interesting.

Today mine read: “It’s one of those days when you find it easy to appreciate your bountiful life.”

My life is indeed bountiful. I have lots of things to be thankful for.  Where to start? Here’s a list. Not prioritized. Some are “little.” Some aren’t. It’s not an exhaustive list. It’s just a list. A short list. I could go on and on, but I won’t now…
-=-=-=
As I write this I have a tray of beets roasting in the oven. Sweet.

A bit ago I talked to my 90 year old dad. Almost every day I call him and we have a walk-n-talk. I walk. Tissel talks. I rack up steps and he and I reminisce, or catch up, or tell tales. Some day I won’t be able to make that call.

Tomorrow I will harvest my last crops of the season when I pick brussel sprouts. That will wrap up the 2016 gardening season. I started harvesting lettuce back in early April. Fresh veggies from the garden for 8 months is a nice bounty.

A year ago I hadn’t been out of the hospital very long, after blood clots in my lungs put me in the hospital for only the third time in my life. That experience makes you think. And appreciate the little things; and the things that aren’t or that aren’t little.

I have more friends today than I did a year ago. Not just acquaintances. Friends.

I live with someone who loves me. I love her. We make a good team. We’re different in lots of ways. Mostly we’re on the same page, especially when it comes to what matters. We like to be together. We like to be alone. We like to be alone together.

Shelly doesn’t complain about my caterwauling, whether it be in the apartment or the car. She doesn’t complain when I play the same cut over and over and over. And sing along each and every time. (Sometimes she has had more than enough of Bob Dylan or Neil Young though….)

Most recently a number of songs by Amos Lee have been on repeat. This one helps me appreciate my bountiful life.