It's Only Rock and Roll...

The city was electric. It was the annual "Taste of Sioux Falls" and although I was only visiting for 2 days, the feeling was palpable. Everywhere I went, from the gas station to the supermarket to the guy working behind the front desk at the hotel where I was staying; everyone wanted to know: Was I going to see Kansas play at the Taste of Sioux Falls?
I wasn't I told them, feigning disappointment. I was only in town to visit family I said, but had I known, I surely would have made room on my schedule for such a momentous occasion.

In South Dakota it mattered little that the band featured only 2 of it's original 7 members and neither one was the violin player who gave them their signature sound on such classics as "Dust in the wind" and "Point of no return." No, the fact that these paunchy, graying 50 somethings were setting up shop on the Menard's stage next to Bubba Tuckers BBQ was good enough for the mostly overweight masses who waited anxiously all year for the 3 days that signaled it was OK to go out and eat with reckless abandon. It was as if the Beatles themselves had reunited and were about to play the entire White Album all the way through and then take requests from sauce stained cards that had been handed out to the audience before the show. It was electric.

I understand it's all relative. I'm sure that someone from Chicago would find the goings on in Minneapolis, the city in which I live, to be lacking and a little "quaint" but I can't remember one person asking me if I was going to see Creedence Clearwater Revival featuring original member Bob Johnson on bass at The Taste of Minnesota. It just didn't garner all that much excitement.

A Walk

It seems like almost overnight the lily pads have bloomed on the lake. Trees and other plant life have exploded along the shoreline, nearly blocking out the view of the water in certain places. With the green leaves and foliage adding new scents all around the lake shore, summer has finally gained a foothold in the upper midwest. As I walk along the pathway, I take off my headphones and notice that the croaking of frogs has increased from a few weeks ago, again I welcome the sounds as a sign of summer's long awaited return. Rounding the corner, I see two familiar families; adult geese watch me intently as their rapidly growing young dig at the ground, eating whatever it is that they eat. I stop on the path about 10 feet away from the feeding geese and make eye contact with the biggest goose, as he seems to be the one in charge of granting me safe passage. I turn my back slightly towards the feeding families as I take my first tentative steps in their direction, watching as the other geese lead their brood a few feet in the other direction. The young never stop eating as they follow. Like every other time, I pass without incident, resuming my normal pace as I look back at them one more time. Ahead, a small wooden footbridge spans a trickle of a stream that flows to the lake. I stop for a minute and marvel at how clear the water is; I've often thought about dipping my bottle into the crystal clear waters but being in the city, I never do. I am covered in shadows now when I stand in the middle of the bridge, only a few weeks ago I was bathed in sunlight standing in the exact same spot. I watch as a big bumble bee zig zags his way through life. When I reach the northeast corner of the lake, I scan the waters close to shore, looking for a giant snapper who likes to hang out in the shallow waters along with his smaller cousins. It's good to see so many turtles. As I leave the path and head back onto the city streets, I put my headphones back on and continue on my way, thanking God for giving me a great day.

"Too much cheese!"

"Too much cheese." Thomas thought as he broke open the burrito that the waitress had just set before him.

As his anger turned to rage, he couldn't understand how the one request he made had been ignored. He was sure he told her light cheese. He was mistaken.

Thomas took his fork and plunged it into the melted mass. Lifting it to eye level, he watched the escaping steam disappear into nothingness as he thought about the slap in the face that had just been served to him on the proverbial silver platter. Thomas dropped his cheese filled fork onto the plate, and used both hands to push the burrito closed, trapping the intense heat inside. Thomas sat there motionless until the waitress appeared from the kitchen.

As she surveyed the almost empty dining room, the cute young woman noticed Thomas politely holding his index finger in the air. As she approached the table, she started to smile, "How is every.." is all she could get out before Thomas picked up the burrito and used his thumbs to push it open from behind. Watching curiously, the naive waitress would have surely turned her head away had she known what was about to happen. In a continuous motion, Thomas pushed the molten cheese to the surface of the burrito while reaching out and smashing the still piping hot weapon into the unsuspecting waitresses face.

Her initial scream was muffled by the melted mass that was now stuck to her. Instinctively, she reached up and tore at the super heated face-bomb, throwing it to the ground along with a good portion of skin that should have been on her lips, mouth and cheeks. "Too much cheese!" Thomas yelled at the top of his lungs as he stood up and watched the badly burned waitress stumble towards the kitchen and the ice kept there.

As he headed towards the exit, screams could be heard coming from inside the kitchen. Cooks, fellow waitresses, even the bus boy gasped in horror when the girl with the burnt face fell on the floor in front of them. As the enraged posse set out to capture the man that turned the waitress from a lady into a monster, Thomas was blending safely into the crowded street outside the restaurant.

"Too much cheese." Thomas thought as he began whistling a happy tune while walking down the sunny sidewalk.

"Too much cheese."

The Rope

The old hemp rope swung quietly from the top of the sturdy tar coated pole.

Time and the seasons had caused most of it’s strands to rot, leaving it practically useless.

A knot tied long ago seemed to grow out of a rusty metal eyelet that had been screwed into the pole by a quiet man who took his life in the summer of ‘29.

It’s home high up on that pole was once a place of honor when it still had a job to do.

Except for a rare car hopelessly lost, that old hemp rope led a solitary existence on the side of that dusty road for the better part of a century.

Echoes of drum beats from 4th of July parades resonated in the smallest fibers of that old rope.

The smoke of a barbeque.

The laughter of a sack race.

Like everything else, like you and me, that old hemp rope had it’s time.

Did the man who broke the silence even look up before he started pulling on the rope attached to his chainsaw?

Would he have made the connection?

Gordy and the Grinder.

It gave Gordy goose bumps to watch the gray grinding machine growl as it grabbed whatever was given to it. He placed a gold star sticker against the grain of the grand granite counter top on which the gray grinder sat. Gordy got giddy when he got up enough gusto to get close to the gray grinder, Gosh!" Gordy grinned, as he gave it green gum drops which disappeared inside the grinder. Wanting to make the day even greater, Gordy sought more glamorous gifts to give the gadget. Sadly there was a ghastly glitch. Gordy got greedy. It was a trait all Grisbys shared and little Gordy Grisby got it too. Gordy got hungry and green gum drops are good when gas in your gut gets to growling. Gordy grabbed for a gum drop but the gray grinder grabbed Gordy instead. "Good God!" Gordy gasped as his hand got ground up on the gears along with those green gum drops he got from his grandpas garage on the corner of Gladstone and Gateway in the city of Gibbstown. When they got to him, green gunk was gushing from the grinder; a combination of gum drops and ground up Gordy. There is a lesson to be learned from Gordy's tale; parents keep an eye on your curious kids around things that could do them harm.

The Art of Toast

I reached in the bag and grabbed two pieces of bread from the middle of the loaf while a series of first class yawns worked their way out of my system. As I turned around and dropped the bread into the toaster I thought to myself that I probably should have washed my hands. "Oh well, it's too late now." I said out loud to no one. Besides, the toasting would kill any germs that I might have gotten on the bread I told myself, not knowing if it was true or not. I pressed down on the lever and the bread dropped out of sight, almost.

I was annoyed as I stared at the top quarter-inch of bread that remained safely above the toasting zone. I asked myself why I let that bother me; I have been using the same toaster for 6 years so it's not like it's a big surprise when that top portion mocks me in cool comfort. Still, it bothered me but I would soon exact my revenge by dropping those smug slices of bread head-first straight into hell.

A smile of satisfaction broke across my face as I heard the tell-tale crackling that signaled bread turning to toast. I was lost in the hypnotic glow of the orange toasting filaments when I felt my cat gently rub up against my leg. When I looked down, she was already moving on to bigger things.

I looked back at the toaster and knew it was crunch time. You see, in my early twenties I learned that the darkness dial on every single toaster ever made wasn't really hooked up to anything. It was put there as a sick joke by toaster engineers beginning in 1907. If you can get a retired toaster man to talk, he'll tell you the same thing but you might have to loosen him up with alcohol and a promise not to tell anybody. So to rely on the darkness dial is pure suicide, only a fool would chance it and I ain't no fool. Instinctively sensing that I was approaching the point of no-toast return, I reached over and raised the lever, ending the process before any real damage could occur.

As I threw the hot toast onto a plate, I paused for a second to admire the perfect golden brown earth tones that now covered the fragile slices. "Look what I've accomplished and I haven't even been up for 5 minutes." I thought proudly.

It was going to be a great day.

Burt and the Bees.

I told Burt to stay away from those damn bees.

When he walked across the yard with that stick in his hand, I knew he was heading for their nest. He was asking for it. He swung the stick at the basketball sized nest with all his might; all the while laughing like a kid in a candy store.

Soon he was dancing. Dancing the funniest dance I ever saw.

I started laughing too.

Then Burt quit laughing, but he kept on dancing. Burt started screaming. I kept on laughing. "I told you Burt!" I shouted from across the yard. I don't think Burt heard me though, because of all of the screaming.

Burt could run very fast, faster than I thought he could but not as fast as those damn bees. When he stumbled and fell, he got right back up. Then he fell down again. He made it easy for the bees. It got pretty quiet pretty quickly. Except for the buzzing. I tried to count all the bees on Burts body but I quit at a hundred and went inside to eat lunch.

Later, when I returned to Burt, all the bees were gone.

He was pretty puffed up. I went and picked up the stick Burt had used to swing at the nest and later at the bees. I called it a swinging stick. I used the swinging stick to poke Burt in the face. I renamed it a poking stick. Burt let out a soft moan. He couldn't tell who poked him in the face. His eyes were all swelled shut.

I told Burt he should have stayed away from those damn bees.

I don't think he heard me though.

Are You In?

Lately I've been thinking about food. For thousands of years humans were strictly an agricultural society. If you didn't raise the chicken, beef or pigs you ate for dinner yourself, chances are you bought it from your local butcher whom you knew on a first name basis. You probably knew the farmer who raised the livestock as well. The same went for vegetables; everything was local or at least regional and it was organic. If you lived someplace where the growing season wasn't year round, you would can your food so it would stay fresh through the long winters.
How different things are today. With corporate farming, pre-packaged frozen meals and a fast food restaurant on almost every corner, I wonder if farmer Jones from 1909 would realize where he was? Perhaps he would think that he landed on Mars. What would he think of a Hungry Man 1 lb turkey and stuffing "meal"? I bet he would spit it out. Some people call it better living through science, I'm not so sure. With giant food conglomerates like Con Agra cranking out hundreds of thousands of "meals" every day, common sense says that it's not grandmas home cookin' coming off those conveyor belts. Sure, it's deemed safe by the FDA but that doesn't mean it's good for us. As a matter of fact, a quick glance at the ingredients list and nutritional label of most foods tells the story; chemicals and bad stuff that never grew in great-grampas' country garden now make up your burrito, Big Mac and pot pie.
Here's my challenge to you: Try to go 2 weeks without eating anything artificial or pre-packaged. Things like pre-packaged frozen vegetables, chicken breasts or salmon fillets are fine but not frozen vegetables packaged in any kind of "sauce" or cheese. I understand that most things contain BHT to maintain freshness or some other kind of preservative; it's pretty hard to avoid every single thing. Pre-sliced, pre-packaged deli meats are up to you, I would avoid them but that's your call. I understand that you have to pack a luch for work. Also, I'm human, so I'll look the other way if you down a hand full of trail mix with M&M's once a day; as long as you do the same for me. The real goal is to stay out of the drive-thru and eat real food at home. It's only for 14 days, if you can't go that long perhaps it's time for you to start thinking about food as well and ask yourself what the hell is going on.

A quick rant

I don't know how it is where you live but here in Minnesota 80% of the people can't seem to follow the most basic rules of driving. There are two things that always cause me to take a deep breath and repeat my peaceful mantra so I don't have a heart attack or seriously hurt somebody. But even as I type this, I feel my blood pressure rising. The two things are: merging and left hand turns. In a way their kinda related because people seem to do the exact opposite of what their supposed to do in each circumstance. More times than not when someone is on an entrance or exit ramp, they ride the ass of the car in front of them instead of keeping at least a car lengths distance to let themselves and other cars easily merge in and out of traffic. On the opposite end, I sit and watch in amazement at left turn lights. When the arrow turns green everyone seems to count to 10 when the person in front of them starts moving, only when they reach 10 do they start to move themselves. Often times I see an insane gap before I start screaming "GO!" Sometimes I scream other things. If people would pay attention, 4 or 5 more cars could make the turn but that rarely happens. I swear they're laughing at me as the light turns red and they've caused me to sit through another light cycle. So, if you're one of those people, I'm asking you to please think and use your common sense. Sadly, most people don't even realize that they are morons because they are morons. If you are not one of these people, thanks for reading my rant and watch for yourselves how people merge and turn. Soon you too will be in need of a mantra if you don't have one already.

Change

This week I made a lifestyle change. I'm not going to say I'm on a health kick because that implies something temporary, I'm going for long term. After I was laid off from my job, my physical activities seemed to have gotten laid off along with it. When I was working I was on my feet a lot, getting in a nice aerobic workout in the printing biz. A nice benefit to moving large silk-screen frames around is that you burn calories.
Modern technology is great, it has improved and streamlined almost every aspect of life, including job hunting. The last time I applied for a job, I got in my car and went to the company and asked the receptionist for an application. It was a slow process, if the different companies I was applying to were scattered throughout the city, it could take the better part of the day just to fill out 3 or 4 applications. Now, with my resume uploaded in my computer, I can apply to 4 companies in 5 minutes; all from the comfort of my couch. That's where the problem lies. Looking back it was a pain in the butt to drive all around town but at least it got me moving. I had to move in order to get out of my house, into my car, to the place I was applying. Maybe it wasn't that much, but it was something. Today, going from my bed to the coffeemaker and then to the couch isn't exactly physically demanding stuff. It started to show.
I started down a slippery slope. With less money coming in, I started to visit all the wrong places way too often. When times get tough a $1 chicken sandwich from McDonald's or a 99 cent double stack from Wendy's seems like a good idea; until you're finished eating it. The equation is pretty simple: high calorie,high fat foods+ sedentary living=weight gain. It's not that I ate fast food all the time, I didn't. In order for me to gain weight I didn't have to eat fast food exclusively, wrong choices in the grocery store can do the job just as effectively. Well, I'm done with it.
Earlier this week I logged on to craigslist and found a Healthrider fitness machine for $25, a hell of a deal. A steal actually. I bought it from a kind of internet middleman store; a place that holds all the inventory for people who want to sell their stuff but apparently don't know how ebay or craigslist work. The guy from the store even carried it out and loaded it in my car. Standing in the parking lot, I gave him $25 cash and asked about tax, he said no and we went our separate ways. Leaving the parking lot, I felt like I was getting away with something. It was about 80 miles round trip to get it back to my house but it was a great day for a drive and it's not like I had anything else on my schedule for the afternoon.
I've only used it for a short time; I'm still pretty sore and I can feel it working muscles I haven't used in a while but it's a good kind of sore. And I've doubled the number of reps from the first time I used it. It's low impact, almost no impact which is nice. With no stress to my joints, I think I'm able to use it for longer periods of time than I would a treadmill or jogging. Eventually I'll add free weights into my routine.
My fridge is stocked with healthier foods and I'm gonna do my best to keep the bad stuff to a minimum. I won't deny myself anything, I know that doesn't work. If I want something I'll have it. Everything in moderation. As long as I stay on track I will be burning more calories than I'm taking in.
I took some "before" pictures and I'll post them after I feel I've made some progress. No sense posting anything until I have some kind of "after" picture to post next to it.
To be continued...............

This makes me laugh.

New Age Living

Today I was thinking about some things I'd done. I went into a, 'shame spiral' and was forced to implement my, 'little me inside' breathing exercises in order to strike balance back into my, 'feelings grid'. For a while my, 'neural reboot' seemed to have returned the harmony I had transferred from the, 'universal ethos' back to my, 're-weening nest', from which I was about to re-take my first tentative flight. As I sipped my organic, free trade herbal tea of calming bat droppings, I retreated to my, 'soul chamber' where I snacked on a long piece of, 'life licorice' made by caring memories and gentle experiences. After receiving, 'validation nourishment' I pushed my, 'confidence canoe' back into the, 'lake of living' and paddled along with nothing but blue skies above. As the lazy current swept me around a soft bend, there was another, 'life force' waiting for me to get within their, 'dome of dominance'. It was there that I was severely beaten about the head and face.

2/21/08 - 2/21/09

I have made it 1 year without smoking a single cigarette. 365 days. For 22 years, from 17 to 39 I smoked every single day. I smoked a lot. I probably averaged 2 1/2 packs a day, some days more, some days less. Over the last year, I went from being a big smokers rights guy to being a person who looks at a smoker and shakes his head at the stupidity on display. It is partly a defense mechanism to keep me from thinking about picking up the habit again, but truth be told, I never really struggled all that much after I decided I was done with cigarettes. Once I put 'em down there just wasn't an option for me to pick 'em up again. I can honestly say I've never really had a strong urge to start smoking again. Why did I quit you ask? I'll tell you and it might surprise you. First of all, it wasn't really for the health factor, although that is probably the biggest overall benefit I've received. It was mostly because smoking had become too much of a pain in the ass both physically and monetarily. The state where I live, like most other states, decided it was best if they told the owners of private property what they could and couldn't allow with regards to the use of a product that was legal to buy and use. In plain English it is this: you want to turn me into a social outcast, frowned upon by society and at the same time you continue to raise the price on cigarettes to pay for all the things that didn't get funded in the most recent budget? SCREW THAT! Why would I want to stand in the freezing snow and rain smoking a cigarette that came from a pack that cost me $5.12? I couldn't stand to let them win so I did something they never expected; I got completely out of the game. Now if they want to raise the price to $10.00 a pack, I say go for it! No skin off my back. It makes no difference to me if you want to give your hard earned money to some creepy son of a bitch sitting behind a desk at Phillip Morris or R.J Reynolds, and believe me they are creepy. If big brother wants to confine all the dirty smokers to a camp in the Nevada desert, just give me a little warning so I can roll up my windows when I drive by. Now when I'm standing behind a person buying smokes at the gas station I feel free. I watch them lay their money down and I begin to smile, I'm free. Free! Sometimes I even say something like,"Holy shit! How much?" playing the role of unaware non smoker, who points out the lunacy of the price paid for something that is really nothing. If your a smoker, knock yourself out, I'm not going to stop you. I was once one of you. But now that I don't smoke I don't care what you have to go through or how much you have to pay in order to smoke, if you don't like it do what I did; quit. Finally if you absolutely have to smoke, please don't do it around me. You stink.

Just A Slice.

I hardly go to Myspace anymore. It wasn’t intentional, I just kinda drifted over to Facebook through a girl I met online. It’s crazy; it feels like after 20 years, I’m backing high school. Only now I have less acne, a better haircut and a then-inconceivable appreciation of Frank Sinatra. And most significantly, I am a lot more experienced with, and a lot less nervous around members of the opposite sex. Through technology, I’m “talking” with people that 10 years ago, outside of a reunion, I would have bet the farm against ever talking to, let alone getting involved with their day to day affairs. Today however, I now know that little Mary Anderson from 6th period English burned her toast this morning and that Bob Johnson from 2nd period Math is getting caffeinated for a long night at work. When you stop and think about it, a lot of us are coming full circle. I know that we’re in the minority, those of us in our late 30’s, early 40’s and beyond when it comes to the population that makes up Facebook, but I also think those of us in that age category are the ones who appreciate it the most. There are a number of reasons for this, the first simply being that we have been separated from friends and classmates by time and distance, with no way to connect. I graduated in 1987, there were no cell phones with cameras or ipods and there was definitely no internet. Compact disks came out my senior year, before that popping a cassette into your walkman was cutting edge. With a fresh set of batteries, you’d do well to get through both sides of Def Leopards’ “Hysteria” before the gradual slowing of the tape went from a minor annoyance to a cruel joke (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, count your blessings you were born in an age when music players work using all non-moving parts.) My point is this: for kids in school today, all this technology is normal, they don’t know anything else. When they want to call their friends, they reach into their pocket, pull out their phone and make a call. Ask any of them how many times they’ve searched for a payphone when they needed to make an urgent call, I guess that it’s probably not that many. Hell, ask them what a rotary phone is. When I was in school, answering the phone ‘hello’ was a question. You didn’t know who was calling because there wasn’t any caller I.D. Hello…..? Somewhere I still have the recordings of prank phone calls we used to make to easily angered, unsuspecting victims; a pastime far too risky in today’s information age. Instead of talking, kids today type on the wall of their friends’ Facebook page, it’s the norm. And most likely, they will stay connected with these same people after they graduate and move far away from each other, following each others lives’ with ever increasing detail and in real time using things like Facebook until the next thing comes along to make Facebook antiquated. Ask any high schooler what a photo mat is; we’re back to moving parts again. Point your phone, take a picture, send it instantly anywhere in the world to as many people as you want. College graduation, point the phone. Getting engaged, point the phone. Buying a house, point the phone. First child, you get the picture, no pun intended. And I haven’t even mentioned video…. So it’s not surprising when someone of my generation joins Facebook and jumps in head first; you quickly find out there’s a lot of catching up and keeping up to do with people you never thought you’d “see” again, certainly not on a daily or weekly basis. Never mind all the people you never knew you knew! I don’t know the point of my little rambling. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounded like I was getting old. I feel like I’m all over the map here, if you’ve made it to the end, maybe you could explain to me what I was trying to get across, whether you’re next door or on the other side of the world.

The Lamp.

On my table there is a lamp. It was made by my grandpa over 26 years ago. I don't know what kind of wood it is made out of because it is covered in a thick coat of stain and, truth be told, even without the stain I wouldn't be able to tell you what kind of wood it was. My grandpa would be able to tell you though, but he's been dead for over 26 years. I can still picture the shed in the back yard; painted white tin with green striped trim and giant advertising signs leaning up against one side, gathering cob webs and dirt. That's where he kept the lathe that spun the wood that became the lamp. I can remember standing there as a young boy, watching as he put a chisel to the spinning wood. It was as if he had some kind of magical power, the ability to make this ordinary round log take on beautifully symmetrical shapes that nature never could. Perhaps it was because I was eye level with the wood, or maybe it was because it was MY grandpa who was creating the beautiful art from ordinary, everyday things that I felt drawn to that primitive spinning machine. After my grandma died, the lamps were distributed throughout my family. I heard that some of the lamps may have been thrown away, I hope that isn't true. Lately I've been thinking about replacing the cord on the lamp; making it safer with a ground plug. But like everything else my grandpa made, it seems to be working fine after all these years. So I will leave it as it is, making sure it is turned off when I'm not home. And when I do return home and it is dark and I cannot see, the first thing I do is reach for the lamp that is sitting on my table.

The Old Lady at the Store.

I was third when I got in line to pay for my groceries. I watched the cashier struggle as she passed a package of chicken breasts over the laser scanner again and again; she looked to be around 75 years old. In that instant I thought about her circumstances. What led her to be scanning food at a Super Target at her age? Was her husband still alive? Did she lose all her retirement savings when the market collapsed? She placed a zucchini on the scale and flipped through the code book, never looking up. Like anybody else doing that kind of work, I could tell she didn't want to be there and she wasn't trying to hide it. At her age she had earned the right to not have to put on a happy face for everybody that came through her line. I wondered if she had any children and if she did, why they couldn't take care of her in her golden years. Then I thought about my own mother, how she would have to work until her dying day if I was the one responsible for her well being. I Thank God my step dad is able to take good care of her and they are enjoying retirement with relatively few things to stress about, me sometimes being one. When it was my turn, I watched her scan a few things before I made a comment about it being easier in the old days when you just punched in the price on the cash register. She looked up, smiled and agreed, seeming to enjoy the human interaction that is so often gone from the little day to day things in life. As I was driving home I thought to myself, "If I don't start saving now, in 35 years that's gonna be me." At least there's still time for me. For the old lady at the store, time ran out.