Check Engine Light

Now wait just a dadburn minute.........

2012-01-07T09:23:00.000-08:00

Yeah, wait a sec... I ain't real up to snuff on verbs, nouns, tenses - that stuff - think this one (wait) has multiple of them. Mind had a hard time waiting in school. Couldn't wait to go, do, have fun. Hadta. Obviously, didn't listen.

Wait is a yummy word, sometimes. Sometimes not. Waiting at a restaurant, airport security check-in line, at the Dollar Tree with 32 other customers in a single line whilst one chicky rings up the goods - and, two other employees 'busy' stocking. Really? "Hi, I love coming here, but we're kinda tired of waiting for you, would you be so kind to git ur butt over here and man a register? You know, wait on us?" I haven't arrived at the speech yet, getting closer though. Can't wait.

Once heard, for every minute one waits, it feels like three. Good thing I don't work in customer service. Oh crap, wait a minute, I do. I hate to wait. At walk-in place of fancy restaurant.. "yes, party of two.. last name 'Starving' "... Wait till her eyeballs catch mine on that one! Victor, you've used that here before. Bite me, just wait, I will repeat again. Bite me, just wait, I will repeat again.

Two lanes at McDonald's drive thru. Life goes to hell, no fun. I'LL BE DAMNED IF THAT CAR GOES AHEADA ME, I FINISHED ORDERING AT LEAST 20 SECONDS BEFORE THEY DID! I hate to wait. Nerves, tense, seconds feel like minutes. Sweat. Groan. Moan. Belly upset. Almost to the point of risking a fender.

She used to wait down at the Dew Drop Inn. The wait staff was very professional.

Wait. Hold ones breath. Close ones eyes. Mark off days on calendar.

Wait for some is a means to pass time in depression. Close ur ears, I know, been there. Can't wait for bedtime so ya don't have to think, speak, feel, emote, dread, consciously breathe. Just sleep. Effortless. Sometimes addictions are involved in the wait.

"WAIT" is an exclamitory expression too - like when one thinks, "nuh uh, what you just said ain't right. WAIT!" He left his bank card. WAIT!

Christmas, can't wait. Hurry up Friday, tired of waiting for you. Loved one overseas in the service - counting the days - waiting. You call a business, explain your dilemma in a minute or so, then hear "Ok, wait just a minute" put on hold. WHAT? What the hell do you do? And why are you getting paid to handoff? Quarterbacks get paid to do that, but they also take hits, throw, block, run too. On hold. Mind wanders, company ad plays over and over again spouting about their wonderful customer service - yet, you wait and wait.

"You'll just have to wait".. A common parent statement. I want what I want, and I want it NOW. Nope, sorry, you're gonna haveta wait.

She waits on him hand and foot. Killed many a good marriage that waiting has. After awhile "why" creeps in. Then, the word 'creep' creeps in. Talk to lawyer, wait for finality, settlement.

Single, divorced - can't wait. Sorry, haveta. Payday, can't wait. $orry, gotta. I can't wait to be 16, 21, 30, 59 and 1/2 (can dig into puny 401K), 65.

Canardly. Meeting at work. Doing taxes. Getting license renewed. I canardly wait. Have to's = waiting. Can't wait. Gotta. Canardly get around it.

Text waiters. I love young folks, I do. "Kids" nowadays treat us geezers VERY nice. But, damn, them pups are ADDICTED to their cell phones - awaiting "what's next?"... Watch 'em sometimes - hands can't lay off of 'em for more than 72 seconds.

Waiting, killing time until I go referee 1st and 2nd grade basketball. Yummy to me, can't wait. I love little kids enthusiasm, spunk, fervor. Some parents attend begrudingly. "Yeah, gotta soccer tournament I've GOT to go to this weekend." No, you've got that wrong, you GET to go to. Should be you canardly wait to go.

For the record, I've peed three times during this - waiting for my brain to lemme know what to type next. That's better than this morning at Mickey D's though... had to go to the restroom, the sit-down variety - some feller stayed in there for like 7 years. My face got red awaiting. You know, I finally got to get up, walk in. Took those short, butt-tensed steps -> "oh Lord I'm a geezer and this is very hard for me.. PLEASE help me make it there!"... The older one gets, seems the less time between 'urge' and 'actual'. Very little 'wait' time. Kinda a return to infancy. I'm not skidding, er, kidding.

Waiting really can be fun though. I loved loved loved people-watching this morning as I waited at Mickey D's. Everyone goes thru life uniquely. Everyone looks different. Speech, emotions, discipline, lack thereof.. smiles... different socio-economics.. attractive.. ugly (sorry, happens)..

Noon - time to watch MU play basketball. Been waiting. Will wait listening for one hour, then off to referee. Do so with my best friend forever. We usedta go/ref and stare at the moms in the stands. Now.. we stare at the grannies. Hehe. Can't wait. Guess i gotta.

Happy waiting to you. Victor, you're very weird. Yeah, I know, was kinda waiting for you to say that. Love, Victurd.

Christmas is.....

2011-12-25T12:37:00.001-08:00

Grandmas.. (And grandpas).. Siblings.. Cousins.. Aunts.. Uncles.. "Drawings' to see what family gets to sit where to open gifts... The specter of granny's cedar tree - the liquid bulbs.. and the finality of adorning with silver tinsel... Dogs all dressed with ribbons and bows..

Dinner around the big table, extra chairs pulled in from other rooms... no elbow room.. little ones giggling.. food aplenty.. furnace running...

Anticipation.. fervor.. love.. treacherous trips thru single lanes with two tire tracks... race car tracks.. electric train tracks... 8 tracks.. tracking in snow...

Helping dad hang the lights.. A neatly laid pallet on the floor Christmas Eve, so Santa simply could not be missed. Milk and cookies left out for him... Sleeping thru his commotion, and awakening mom/dad at 4:30am with "WE'RE READY!"...

Paper strewn everywhere, soon to be gobbled up by a recycling granny... Comparison (of sibling's gifts, cousin's gifts).. Smiles aplenty of young ones - which in turn brought smiles from parents - as little did we know it'd been a rough year and they worried we might not produce those smiles...

At age seven, one believes "it will be like this forever and ever." Some time later, a (said lovingly) rotten cousin dishes out the news "there ain't no Santa", makes fun of those of us still believing.. But HA! One day many years later - that belief is reinstilled!..

It's Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Doris Day, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Burle Ives.. George Bailey, Ebenezer Scrooge, Tiny Tim, The Grinch, Kris Kringle,

It's picking out special gifts for special people.. A Christmas Service.. A serviceman home for Christmas.. Love... Family.. Blood.. Bond..

The cycle continues as we become parents - and somehow we manage to make it through Christmas Day on 3 hours sleep after being awakened at 4:30am with a bellyache from too many cookies and milk. It's sacrifice in September, October, November, December to make Christmas happen...

The repetitive "special gifts for special folks"... Ralphie.. Clark Griswald, Kevin McAlister Home Alone.. Buddy/Elf.. Del Griffith/Planes, Trains.. The Chipmunks, John Denver, The Carpenters, Bruce Springsteen, Charlie Brown...

One by one, loved ones are lost. NEVER replaced - but, now more high chairs around the table.. As grandparents, we now get to snooze in until the 7am phone call to learn what presents they got... Shopping as a grandparent is FUN. I don't give a damn if I'm a month behind on the gas bill, my grandchild just HAS to have that!

Somehow - as we age, our eyes get more youthful. Things we enjoyed as kids - are absolutely just as enjoyable now.. Somehow, somewhere, at some point - we become a kid again...

Seeing one's kids be parents, the best. Seeing their glee attained from the glee of their children - priceless. Yes, we're now aware it won't "be like this forever and ever" - but, we will forever and ever hang on to memories of Christmas present AND past.

Christmas is visiting. Oft times its with those we usedta see every day - but no longer do, so the visit is 'specialer.' I know that ain't a word, should be. Harkening back to yesteryear. It's seeing/hearing those that aren't here any longer - vividly. The more Christmas changes over the years, the more it stays the same.

Christmas is happy tears.. Very commercial - sure.. but very special. As we age, even specialer. Merry Christmas, love Victurd.

Hello... Sarah?

2011-12-03T10:04:00.000-08:00

Yep, Andy, Barnie, Opie, Aunt Bea... Floyd... they all usedta holler at Sarah to get connected with another soul.. Then we went rotary... Next, push button... Cordless... Pagers/Beepers.. Bag phones.. Now, phones do everything ceptin' maybe have sex with you... and I ain't up on all the newfangled techniques – hell, they may do that too now and I don't even know.

Getting at: touch. No, you pervert, not that kinda touch – the kinda touch where friends, loved ones, coworkers, former coworkers, siblings, aunts/uncles, grandparents, grandkids simply reach out and touch someone - instantaneously. (Catchy phrase, mebbe someone could use that.)

Facebook. Color me smitten. Smitten as a way to keep up with lives of many. Those older, younger, wiser.... faster... similar... married.. single... widowed.. fellow MU fans.. chickenhawk fans.. Liberty-ites.. nearby... faraway (usedta be nearby, still are at heart).. As I peruse FB I wonder “from what little nook and cranny (what person) from my life, our lives (past/present) will pop up next?”

“Nah, I signed up, but I don't get on there.”... “A waste of time... I've got access in real life to all those I needta have access to.”

Color me, not among that group. I love coming here, blabbing here, reading here.. sharing here... learning here.. laughing here... I just love 'here'... Kinda like caller-ID even. Can choose to answer, or not. Seeing the little (1) in parentheses up there is cool, cause for wonder, mebbe even excitement.

My beloved father, may he rest in peace, always said I was easily led. Very true pops, I love following my buddies, loved ones... Thank you to whomeverinthehell invented Facebook. It's a trip to the Corner Bar, relatives on each Coast, yesterday, today, past jobs, present job, old school chums, pics of (babies, young'ns, folks, grandparents, friends, friend's friends.) – all rolled up in one.

To my friends who post, don't post, read, write (even the Chickenhawk variety) thanks for being you. I enjoy you, Facebook. Sarah, I reckon, was Facebook, when FB wasn't cool. She musta known anything and everything about everyone in Mayberry R'FB'. I'd follow that, I'm easily led. Love, Victurd.

Go ahead, make my day…..

2011-11-28T11:24:00.000-08:00

I started to write “dunno why I’m sharing”, but, I do. A friggin’ feel good. Seems sometimes, there tain’t enough of ‘em.

At the Piggly Wiggly this past week….. walking out to car…. say, ya ever see a face that ya’ ain’t seen since forever, and you’re 99% certain that person is from your yesteryear, and you’re mebbe a tad hesitant to say anything?

Happened to me the other day… . YEARS ago I worked for the local Park Department. Summers in HS and College, and even a few summers thereafter. Talking like late 60’s, early 70’s…..

Traversing across town from Park to Park, ya ran into kids. Some wanted nothing to do with us cheesy Maintenance employees… others couldn’t run fast enough wide-eyed up to our truck to find out what task we were there for that day.

I’ve always loved being around snotnoses.. Arnold Hammond was onea those termites from back in the day. Of our all-time favorite “park department snotnoses”, he, and fellow playmate Wayman Bright were at the very top of our list.. Gorgeous smiles on eacha those kid’s faces every time we crossed paths.. Inquisitive, upbeat, fun… Each child quite bright.. It, quite frankly, was a fun time in each of our lives….. Arnold and Wayman were of the ilk they’d “come’a runnin” to greet us each and every time…

Hesitancy aside (at the Piggly Wiggly the other day)… I kinda-sorta whispered “Arnold?”.. he stopped, turned.. then he gave me one of those who-in-the-heck-are-you (thru squinted eye) looks.. I approached, arm extended.. “It’s Vic, from long ago at the Park Department”..

BOOM.. THERE THAT HUGE SMILE (& WIDE EYED LOOK) WAS AGAIN! Bout broke my damn hand shakin it, but it’s cool.. was very nice to rediscover this friend. Made my day that HE TOO remembered the very good times from back in the day.

Little looms large. Happy day, love Victurd.

Oldzheimers...

2011-11-26T11:33:00.000-08:00

Seena buddy and his wife yesterday... for years, AND YEARS, we played softball together (and before that, little league for oodles and oodles of years).. . Of course smiles on all three faces – hands shook.. a quick check on “how was your Thanksgiving?”... theirs/mine, very good. Then.... oh shit, her name momentarily escaped me. Wanted to ask about their son too, but – same problem – oldzheimers.

Last Wednesday.. “Tom, what's the quickest way to Metro North?”.... Victor, be for real. You've lived here, what? FITTY NINE YEARS? I know, but I'm getting oldzheimers.

This Wednesday.. Party at Weasels.. been there thirty – forty times. “Hey, refresh my brain, how do you get there” Geez Louise..

I reckon that happens at this age. I think, contributing too, I've had too many damn jobs, too many damn wives (I know, only two.. but that's boo koo siblings, aunts, uncles, kids.. yada).. I'll see someone, harken back.. “yeah.. I remember we worked together... but crap... was it United Airlines or Eastern Airlines?”

Been bolted down at present job now ten years. Still, someone will bring up a name of a past coworker.. “huh uh.. I'm sorry, I don't remember her.” I'm mid-Oldzheimers.

I think too, representative of how fleeting life actually is. Wiz.. bang... twirl... whaula – we're allofasudden in our later years. Crap.

I was gonna try to find a song that fit... you know... about how fast time does fly... and about how we need to STOP.. realize TODAY IS THE DAY.. make it memorable...... take pictures with the eyeballs... FREEZE FRAME.. yeah, that song'll work.. Nope, it didn't.

Time has come today lyrics? I've been loved and put aside (Time)
I've been crushed by the tumbling tide (Time)
And my soul has been psychedelicized (Time) .... Well, uh huh, those things happened, but not my point today... The point is.... people leave. People get older. Things change. TAKE PICTURES with your brain. Stop. Enjoy.

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feeling groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feeling groovy.........

That kinda-sorta works... Again, the point is... we move too fast.. Things change so fast.. We think EVERYTHING will be this way – forever.. And it ain't. I mean hell, I can hardly remember what my most recent ex's boobs look like. Victor... did you just type that? I think you did. Don't you remember your dear Aunt, Uncle come here.. Your cousin.. Your neice... I'd be ashamed... Looking for fun and feeling groovy - Ba da da da da da da, feeling groovy.........

No pun intended (ok, mebbe intended)... it's about “the point”..

Hustle, bustle, this job, that friend, their kids.. their mates.. this person that works at the joint you go to...this coworker, that coworker.. Monday... Thursday... January... July... . 1985... 1999... 2006... TIME FLIES..

I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

We better stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, now, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

Oldzheimers happens. We forget things. People. Names. Addresses. Directions. Moments.

(As always, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome).. Stop. Make it a point to take a picture with your eyeballs. Smile as you do. Life is fleeting. Keepin that in backa the brain just might help one smile, observe, remember and enjoy as we go.

Gotta go now. Taking my beautiful granddaughter (and her folks) for pizza. Now whereinthehell are my keys?

Looking for keys and feeling groovy - Ba da da da da da da, feeling groovy.........

Oldzheimers happens. Love, Victurd.

Rescue me

2011-11-24T07:00:00.000-08:00

Oh take me in your arms
Rescue me
I want your tender charms
'Coz I'm lonely and I'm blue
I need you and your love too

Sand... pea gravel.. pebbles... rocks... boulders.. mountains...

I wish I had a girlfriend/boyfriend.. I wish I had a new (car, house, job, outfit, pair of sneakers).. Sand. Written it before (sorry).. reporter asked longtime (VERY successful) NWMSU coach Mel Tjeerdsma “Can you give me three things to help me be successful in life?”... #2 was “don't worry about what you don't have, focus on what you do have.” Thanks coach, liked that, needed to hear that. Most problems are sand.

Come on and rescue me
Come on baby and rescue me
Come on baby and rescue me
'Coz I need you, by my side
Can't you see that I'm lonely
Rescue me

Pea gravel. Mebbe nowhere to go for Thanksgiving. Distance. Finance. Time. In the way. Again, minute probs...

Come on and take my heart
Take your love and conquer every part
'Coz I'm lonely and I'm blue
I need you and your love too

Pebbles... Illness. Confined.. Injury. No money. Transportation, lack therof. No phone. Pebbles make baby ripples in the water.

Come on and rescue me
Come on baby and rescue me
Come on baby and rescue me
'Coz I need you by my side
Can't you see that I'm lonely

Rocks. Aging, limitations. Empty chairs at the dinner table that used to be occupied by loved ones. Mothers, fathers, grandparents, siblings.. perhaps even a spouse or child...

Rescue me
Oh take me in your arms
Rescue me
I want your tender charms
'Coz I'm lonely and I'm blue
I need you and your love too

Boulders. Chris Herren is a good man. Born in 1975. Chris Herren is an addict. Ever getta chance to see the documentary on his life on ESPN, by all means run to it. Gripping. Extemely sad, but happy ending... so far. Grew up in Massachusetts a high school basketball legend. Landed a scholarship at his beloved Boston College. Alcohol got in way. Then drugs. Scholarship revoked. Fresno State, under “Tark.”.. Three years of good play/results camouflaged his addiction. NBA draft, 2nd round, Denver. The 'amateur' drugs now replaced by more hard core ones. Marriage. Traded to Celtics, the dream of all dreams of MA schoolboys.

Addiction worsening. Released after one season. Basketball overseas. More addiction, more children. Whenever funds ran out.. it was wife's jewelry, or son's Play Station to the pawn shop to gain bucks to support his habit. Modesto, CA, 2008. Wife, three kids fly into airport to meet him. He's embarrassed, lost. Told himself "I should probably never see them again."

Been thru two heroin induced car accidents, awakened from incoherence by Police. He chooses not to go to airport. To liquor store, found sleeping in an alley some hours later. Rehab. A slip. More rehab. Now sober since June 4, 2008. In June of 2009, he launched “Hoop Dreams with Chris Herren” a basketball player development company to mentor players on and off the court.

For an addict, everything is 24 hours at a time. Blessya Chris, and bless your wife for seeing the good. The rescue. Boulders.

Come on and rescue me
Come on baby, take me baby, hold me baby, love me baby
Can't you see that I need you baby
Can't you see that I'm lonely
Rescue me

Come on and take my hand
Come on baby and be my man
Cuz I love you cuz I want you
Can't you see that I'm lonely?
take me baby
love me baby
need me baby
Can't you see that I'm lonely?

Driving to work the other day. “Military Mondays” on the station I listen to. The DJ, a car dealer, a Veteran affairs guy. Each week, they pick a vet in need, and furnish them with a donated, used (but certainly drivable) car.

This specific week, a Navy vet. Seven years in the 1970's. Recently learned terminal cancer. “Six months to a year.” He here (KC), son in Branson, no wheels. “I just want to be able to see, visit my son with what time I have left.”
Mountains. Car donated.. a happy end, kinda.

rescue me, rescue me.......

As always, I write to me, hitchhikers welcome. When down, and life's Rescue Me's lyrics ring in my/your/our head – look around. In all likelihood, a bigger problem, rock, boulder, mountain.. out there. Happy Thanksgiving, love, Victurd.

I like going downhill just fine.

2011-11-19T07:30:00.000-08:00

“On the downhill side.” Pardon me, but.. doesn't one go/move faster when going down the hill? Ain't it more exhilarating? Aging is wrinkly, sure – but there's a lot to look forward too on the ride. As one goes, anywhere, much more time to observe... see... it ain't so much a race any more to GET THERE. Relax, kick back, learn s'more if ya want, don't if ya don't wanna...

I love watching moms/dads in the aisles of stores as they attempt to sequester their young'ns.. Upon occasion, I can almost hear them thinking “yes, that passionate lovemaking was awesome, but THIS is what we get for it?”.. After a bit of (repeated) consternation tween mom/3 year old the other day I even heard “God.. I sound just like my mother.” Hehe. Haha, I'm going downhill, I ain't gotta keep 'em in the herd. I ain't gotta fling/wing them frequent “No”s! I'm aging... see my wrinkles? Watch me go down hill.......... WEEEEEEEE!

Laughter. Comes easy at an older age. We possess the ability to laugh at ourselves. Aging has taught us 'pride is hard to swallow, but it will go down.' “Chores” nowadays are: tying our shoes.. getting in and outta the damn car... using a fourth'a tanka gas to find a spot no further than 3 spaces away from the Piggly Wiggly door – and laughing about it all as we do.

The excitement of observing youth is a both a sedative and an upper. I could observe my ten month old granddaughter all day – and dote in her quest to learn this, feel this, taste this, go here, back there, up there, down there... learn.. she wants to learn. Have some fun baby... going uphill is a blast too.

Racing downhill as we age, I've found oft times we need to visit 'the facilities' with more frequency, and with occasional panic. We've memorized exactly where the squatters are at WallyWorld, on 291 Highway... and the dreaded “redlight row” of 152... and exactly how much time it takes to get from Flintlock to the closest restroom door. How many paces it is from notions, to the W-World restroom.. Our bellies speak to us, remind us, impel us.

Speakin' o bellies.... I've found it's harder'n harder to pass up goodies, treats as I go downhill.. Yum. Look at me in the mirror wouldya? A bit of a belly budge.... Some creases in the face, forehead.. what the hell is one more donut gonna hurt? Halloween candy on the cabinets at work. Yum. Hurry up and get the hell outta the way Jane, that Snickers bar is MINE! Eh, I'll walk it off later.

Smiles... seeing.. giving... they are no longer for “in passing”... they're for treasuring. Blinders are off going downhill... No grocery lists to fret over... no worries about “is the soccer uni clean?.. paper in the printer for their homework?...what time is it? What's next.? Am I forgetting something?.. we getta stroll at our leisure, stop when we wanna... stay however damn long we wanna (or don't)... yes, I'm enjoying this downhill ride.

Trick or treat. Yes, we do that as old farts. Young punk at work pranked my voicemail the other day. HA! Game on woman! Do you have any idea how many 'wav' files show up on Google? I too love the chance to offer the “must be an ID ten T error..” at work when asked a fairly stupid question. Huh? (They ask... “ID ten T error?”)... sure.. write it down.. or here, lemme write it for you: ID10T error.

Treat. Old farts treat. Pay it forward I reckon. I must look pity-full... in the last year I've been given: a leather sofa, chair, Ottoman.. washer/dryer.. oodles of very, very nice hand me down clothing..Royals tickets.. in an hour I leave for MU, 2 sixty dollar tickets and a parking pass, yippee.. Next Sunday night, 2 tickets for the Chiefs game. Damn - people are nice in this downhill thing. Little looms large in aging.

Mr. Buck O'Neil, as he went downhill... for obvious different reasons, phrased oh so perfectly “I was right on time.” Would I like to be 20? 16? 35? 40?... tyvm, but I'm very happy, comfy with this downhill. I LOVED those ages – and thanks to them, I is who I is now – and I gladly trade the wrinks above my mouth in memory of those fun moments then.. and now, alla the ones ahead... Downhill, pun mebbe intended, is a gas. Grab your skateboard Ethel... this downhill stuff is the bomb. Love, Victurd.

Occupy this.......

2011-11-16T18:59:00.000-08:00

I gotta friend... daughter was gonna go to High School Homecoming with a fine lad... but... this lad gotta B- on his report card, and that didn't cut it for his folks.. thus.. “You ain't going”....... Nose to the grindstone, occupy your books.

Holy crap Batman... had that been me, in high school... I never woulda went anywhere/anytime, and I woulda learned, by memory, every Johnny Carson monologue there ever was. I've always been, what I lovingly refer to as C... C+ smart. Ok, bite me, maybe C- upon occasion.

I haven't followed this Occupy crap... don't wanna follow this Occupy crap... I'm occupied with other things. Go ahead, color me C-, C, C+ smart, and.......I don't really give a rats that I don't keep up. Occupy your occupy all you want, nomme.

Occupied, to me.. is pulling in, hustling outta the car to the Phillips 66... damnit.. red “Occupied” sign is on the restroom door... Clerks are entertained for a few minutes whilst some fitty-nine year old geezer in backa the store does the pee pee dance... and wuah-lah, FINALLY “vacant.” Whew.

At the Twin Drive In in high school... u look over at the next car... don't see any heads, yet the windows are all steamed up = occupied.

Victor... don't wear us down with your marriage squabbles... sorry.. u made it this far, ur stuck. “I did everything” (she said)... Ok. But I taught PE, coached... came home exhausted, and there at the door at 6pm-ish with ball bat (or basketball, or football) in hand.. the little ones.. So, whilst dinner was cooked, whilst maybe yeah, the floor was vacuumed – I OCCUPIED the little (said lovingly) snotnoses.

Daily, nightly, in my spare time. I did this at every house we ever occupied. I was the in home PE teacher, coach, catch partner, checkers, Atari, Old Maid, tiddly winks, sledding, swimming, playmate.. buddy... 'supervisor'.. recreation coordinator, homework supervisor.. I occupied 'em...

Did this, yes, whilst occupying the job of teacher, coach... little league coach... referee/umpire for extra money... so we could have extra money to continue to occupy our house.

From the first jump shot, swing off the tee... fielded grounder.. two-hand chest pass, our goal (with me at snotnose recreation age group helm) was to occupy possession of first place in whatever league/age/sport it was. We rarely did (probably due to coaching/lack thereof) but we tried. Occupied our thoughts anyways.

I was thinking about Occupy on the way home.. and, I thought about how much it kinda bugged me how some are occupied, pre-occupied by the same darn thing(s) day, after day, after day. Blinders.

Repub/Dem.. Religion.. Money.. Reading..Music.. themselves.. power.. position..stature.. blinders... all with blinders on... then it dawned on me, I guess I am too. The same ole same ole things occupy my days, every day: refusing not to make (or try to make) whatever I'm doing: fun. Sports. Emailing. Sudoku. Writing. And, I've been known to occupy a barstool in my day, especially since that fateful departure (“I did everything” whilst I occupied the snotnoses) a few years back. So, I reprimanded myself for not seeing that I too, occupy, am preoccupied by the same things day in, day out: thus, I too wear blinders..

(I hadta stop and Google “then it dawned on me” cause I wasn't sure if it was 'dawned' or 'donned'.. and proper grammar kinda occupies me when writing.. and then the rebel comes out, and the GD (gosh darn) puter underlines words like puter, shoulda, woulda, kinda, howinthehell, sumpin.. and I rebel. Not THAT occupied, preoccupied with grammar. But, occupied on somea the gimmes. Underlining bastards. Quit.

Have. Use. Busy. Capture. Seize. Occupy. I did kinda stumble over something about this occupy movement having something to do with 99% and 1%. Quite certain, 99% of you who 'clicked' this goofy blog are gone by now. My thanks to the 1% that stayed on, occupied a few minutes here.

Speakin'a one out of mebbe a hunnerd.. one in one hunnerd voices REALLY get on my nerves. Dr. Laura was in that 1%. Did like her “go on, take on the day” (not the tone though).. Thus.. go on, occupy the day. Love, Victurd.

Hurt good…..

2011-11-11T07:39:00.000-08:00

I’ve written about Deke before, but agin’, I’m old, so I’ll repeat. I’m old, so I’ll repeat.

Deke was a mechanic for an airline I worked for.. He worked on our ground equipment, and he was mebbe the most cantankerous human being I’ve ever known. I don’t believe he ever experienced compassion.

We would drive our ground equipment on three of the four wheels if we hadta, so as not to have to present the mechanic need to Deke, and be met with a stare, a glare, a snarl – all topped off by a deluge of profanities.

At day’s end.. Deke would walk to the 2’ by 3’ calendar on the wall… take out his magic marker and swipe a HUGE “X” over the day…. as if to say “Thank goodness that bastard is over.”

As a youth (or more youthful back then) my main thought/feel for this man was “I don’t like the guy.” As I’ve aged, thoughts have turned more toward “Darn I feel sorry for this man.. he’s never ‘hurt-good’, he’s only ‘hurt’..”

I am a very big believer in tears, crying, eyes-watering, welling up, passion, compassion, feel: hurt-good. My father, born in the era “men don’t show their emotions”, basically followed that mandate long into life.. then.. Parkinson’s set in.. and if there ever was any good about this evil bastard (The Parkinsons) it’s that it allowed my dad to cry, feel, exhibit hurt-good.

Call me a wimp, I don’t really care. Many, many things, events, acts, remembrances, rush me to that feel of not knowing how to exactly hide one’s own emotions. This morning, we at work emailed a buddy who’d served in Vietnam. I’ve had many discussions with this nice man on how horrible it must have been - yes, simply war itself – but even moreso to come home only to find a thankless nation.

We wrote very simply “we’re here to say thank you – it’s men/women
like you who have protected our country and ensured our continued freedom and we’re very appreciative of your service….”…

He wrote a one-liner back.. very modest, humble, nice man: “Thanks folks…time sure goes by but the memories of war are like yesterday.” Emotion caught up with me, my eyes started watering – and I had to go outside… we’re a changed society in regard to understanding that now it’s ok to show emotion.. but human nature tells one “hide it please”.. so I went outside and had a good ole cry. Hurt-good.

To have felt enough about something.. a loved one.. a friend.. witnessing the compassion of others.. sadness of a situation.. anything – that transcends into hurt-good, I’m appreciative. If one has not learned to feel, such as Deke per chance, how horrible would that be? Call me a wuss.. call me a baby.. you can even call me a girl, I don’t care. I cry. My lips quiver. My innards talk to me. Control turns to no control. I feel.

Sure hurt-good sometimes really does hurt, but I’m so, so glad to have felt strong enough about things, people, the past, the present to experience hurt-good. I hurt-good upon occasion – and even moreso the older I get. Hope you do too. Love, Victurd.

No streaming please..........

2011-11-10T18:57:00.000-08:00

In absence of marriage, partner, mate.. I've found music to be a very compatible, invigorating, inspirational pardner.. Pardner spelled like that on Dizzy Dean purpose.

I'm old, as are the Rolling Stones, but.... within the last couple years, I've' discovered' music from the #2 best ever England group really, really moves me. So, I YouTube them, their songs. I crank them on the highway...and selfishly it's a very fun, fun thing.

I ain't sure there's a soul on the planet that doesn't enjoy, doesn't have some type of music in/on their brain every day. Music is therapeutic. It's a familiarity. It's a “my era”, “that era”, “this kind”, “that kind”, “our kind”,”me”, ie, an individualistic kinda thing.

I recently Googled “best saxophone songs” and was reasonably disappointed I didn't know many of them. Sooo... I You tubed “Into the Mystic” and stuck my nose up at the 'judges' of the top 10 'cipherers, and loved the hell out of the sax on this song. (And, remembered back to hearing it live, one year ago ih Seattle)..

Little kids. And music. Nuttin' better. Little kids ain't got no sense, feel, contact with YouTube, grooveshark, Pandora, music.aol.com,. Rhapsody, whatever. Lil' kids 'cipher on their own, bend the knees to the beat, smile, and gyrate with no instructions, and they feel, happily. A very happy, fun for all thing.

I'm embarrassed (not really) that I, at age 59, turn my radio full blast occasionally en route to/or from work.. if the right song comes across.... Examples you ask? Sure... today, lunchtime.. “Chain” Fleetwood Mac... “Another Brick in the Wall” Pink Floyd... “Werewolves of London” Warren.. “Lowrider” War... “War, what is it good for?” Edwin... and many more....

We all have those songs, our fav's, the music that lifts... There are SO many types.. so many 'fits' for just the right person/personality........ acoustic... alternative... ballads.. bluegrass... calipso... celtic... Christian.. Country... Disco.. Folk... Gospel... Hard rock... Jazz... Metal... Motown... and I'm only halfway thru the alphabet...

Bottomline, music is kinda-sorta universal. To each his/her own.

Recently, 4-5 barstools over, a group of 3 snotnoses (Sorry, my loving terminology for anyone who prolly still wears jeans size 32 waist or less...).. were discussing 'groups', as in music. Of course I'd never hearda any of 'em, but I found glee in the fact, music rocks for them as well.

It's such a great era, sans the scratches on 33's/45's... the 8 tracks where the GD (Gosh Darn) tape breaks off in the contraption... the cassette, where you gotta flip it from one side to the other to hear your two fav's.. music is instantaneous now... I want what I want, and I want it now. And we get it.

Moods. Music helps moods. Was thinking the other day, wouldn't it be cool, if we could CTRL/ALT/DELETE life's problems, and we can't. Realism sets in, grabs us by the collar and says “damnit Victor, do you realize how minimal your problems are to many?”... Thanks. I needed that, and I oft times forget.

Music helps.We're black, white, thin, large, fast, slow, smart, not-so-much, smiley, grumpy, nice, quiet, loud, married, single, divorced, separated, gay, old, young, middle-aged, very young, very old, fast-thinking-acting, take-it-all-in-making-'wise' decisions, saggers, gansta's, whatever... .. There's a variety of music for each of us. With music there is no exclusive round peg, square hole.

I'll be the very first to admit... divorcing 9 years ago... some down times. I am sooooooooooooo thankful for music. Music has turned many 'both sides of the mouth droop' to FOOT-TAPPING-SMILING-FEEEEEEEEEELING.. just say, I'm thankful.

Victor... two questions........ #1... are u kinda embarrassed that you write here so frequently? I probably should be, but I ain't. I get these feelings, urges, feels, and I type. Sorry.

What was the second question? You started this off with the heading “No streaming please”... whatsup with that?....

Well... today, for whatever reason, I was in the mood for Country music... not my norm, but my mood today.. so.. I Googled “Top 100 alltime Country Western songs”.. Youtube'd... and gleefully was listening to “I'm so lonesome I could cry”... “Crazy”... “Stand by your man”... “Ring of Fire”... “I will always love you”.. etc, etc...

Then, coworker, a great gal, rushed over.. “DIDN'T YOU GET THE EMAIL ABOUT 'NO STREAMING'? Hehe. I swear, I'm neither a smart-ass or a rebel.. but I replied (complete with shit-eatin' grin) “we're equals... you/me... so, I ain't gonna quit streaming... someone above me comes, says, 'Victor, cut that crap out' I will”...

FYI too, we just gotta email where our loving IT Department upgraded our internet to “50 times faster” so my take, to hell with them.. rock on... stream on.. = Tracy Chapman, “Give me one more reason” here I come.

Love, musically, Victurd.

I’m afraid of women. I am (said lovingly)……

2011-11-08T08:52:00.000-08:00

Please don't tell.

Just out on break… me… four chickies.. I swear to goodness I looked up, listened, observed… all four of them were talking at the same time. I have a rule for never being a smartass, but, couldn’t resist the urge to stop them all……. ask…… “If all four of you are talking, who is listening?”……

Giggles.. them some retorts about “_____ will say something to me in the kitchen while I’m doing the dishes, and then say ‘you’re not listening’…“I AM TOO”….. and also heard the term “multi-tasking”… Women are somehow ‘coordinated’ in this manner. A sure bet though, more comes out the mouth than what goes in the ears. (It’s ok, I was probably never gonna get laid again anyways)….

We have cubicle walls here at work. Supposed sound barriers (fancy for “haha boss, you can’t see me on Facebook.”).. We also have phones here. Each of us. Women don’t use ‘em. M yells a question to D, who sits 3 cubicles over, mebbe fitteen feet away, another M overhears, she’s 16 feet or so to the East, she yells back an answer.. and then someone else from three cubicles over responds (loudly) to all three. I, the one never being a smartass, pick up my phone, call “Hammer” (our beloved building manager) and loudly say “Hammer, please come get these damn phones.. hell.. they don’t use ‘em anyways.”…

Also… why do women always announce “I’m going to the bathroom”? Why can’t one quietly standup, walk and go pee? I, one who tries to never be a smartass, always ask “WHY do you announce that?”.. (Now these same women, who ALWAYS announce “I’m going to the bathroom” – but those times - WHEN THEY CARRY THEIR PURSE TO THE JOHN with them, nary a peep. I don’t get it! Hehe.)

Women have uterine tracking devices, they do. My ex could find anything lost within our house. Always amazed me. MS’s GPS. Women too, are always right (no matter the topic/situation/circumstance), yet we men yield to the temptation to disagree sometimes just for disagreement purpose. Ultimately the dreaded “I told you so” is spoken… Women 1, Men 0. Can’t win. Borrowing from a past Russian Olympic team who fell to the US…”we (men) took 2nd, the US (women) took next to last.”

A mad female. (I did not say mad cow, I said a mad female.. YOU were the one who thought/envisioned it.) I am more afraid of any 5’4”, 105 lb incensed lady than I would be lined up across from the Kansas City Chief’s offensive line. (After the debacle against this past Sunday against Miami, I prolly shoulda used another example, but you get my drift.)

I would never admit this, but I actually kinda like a chick’s passion in anger. The veins popping out, the eyeballs that singe.. the eyebrows that are even more scarier than Brezhnev’s.. Possessing the capability to bring a 6’ man to his knees faster’na Catholic sermon.

Creepy, observant eyeballs. I could literally go to work, have on two different shoes, my zipper be down, and one sidea my collar up – and I probably wouldn’t discover any of it before the bell to go home. Women notice everything. Spooky. “You gotta new pair of shoes.” Yes.. yes I did. “And ____, you got new boots.” Yes… yes she did. Kinda makes one feel naked, like ur being looked over the whole time. Yes, checked, zipper was up. Whew.

Women are unique, and similar – if that makes sense. I love ‘em. I do. It would be an extremely boring (not to mention short-lived) world without them.

Worst part mebbe, they possess that smile. That smile that melts us, wraps us around their little finger. I hate/love that. Sorry to ramble, but I guess it beats the hell outta describing what car part conked out on me this week. (Water pump btw. $37, four knuckle-scraping hours on the “two hour job”.. but it works and I saved a couple hunnerd mebbe.)

Love to all, even u chicks. Victurd.

As lock would have it...

2011-10-30T08:18:00.000-07:00

Locks are kind of an interesting invention. Sad that we ever needed them – but, a result/reaction to human nature. Wiki tells me (and those dudes at Wiki are never wrong.. just ask Snopes) wooden locks and keys were in use 4,000 years ago in Assyria.

I remember (and I'm old) my combination (10-20-10) to my high school locker. Remember stuffing freshmen in lockers? Amazing they'd fit, but... ever taken a shower on a cruise? Bout the same size as a HS locker!

There's bike locks, cam locks, child safety locks, deadbolt locks, disc tumbler locks, electronic locks, luggage locks, police locks, magnetic keyed locks, spring bolt locks, time locks (the hell's a time lock wiki?) - all kinda locks.

I remember once (Victor, I think you've told this one already... bite me, it's a privilege of gettng old, retelling crap).. I remember once... a somber time turned light.. .The day before my mother's funeral, my sister and I were having a wonderful visit recounting mom stories – as we sat in the Mobile home of my uncle... She excused herself to go to the restroom... I hear this “click”.. as she was coming out I asked “Vanda? The hell did you lock the door for? Did you like think I was going to come in?” A shared giggle...

Locks keep bad guys out, and dogs in. Steering wheels from turning, and cars from starting. Gal at work has onea those spiffy start-the-damn-car-from-your-office-desk thingys, and the other day I ran and tried to jump in right after she started it – nuh huh, locked. Damnit.

At work, we have a code thingy where we have to swipe our palm, enter a code, and jualah, door unlocks. Every time we lose a coworker, new codes for the lock.

Victor, why a friggin blog on locks? Please share the key to your weird brain. Ok... .McDonalds, Sunday morning – this is a recording. Me, the newspaper, my senior coffee – it's a weekly event. As I was getting outta car I hear some chimes. Same chimes that tell me “keys still in ignition” (nope, they weren't) or that the lights are still on (nope, they weren't)...

I am still a trusting soul – I usually throw my keys on the visor. Did this morning too. Paper, coffee, sausage biscuit, sausage mcmuffin later, back out to get in car, take on day. Oh shit. Locked. A wise person would have a second set of keys, but noooooooooooooo. Ten blocks from home. Cigs and lighter staring at me laughing from inside the car. I hoofed it.

$112 heater fan switch thingy three weeks ago. $85 “oh shit my driver's side window won't go up and it's 32 degrees this morning” switch two weeks ago. $114 battery last week. And now I lock my friggin keys in the car ON A SUNDAY! I'm an idiot.

Four blocks in, a GD (gosh darn) leg cramp. GOSH I hope no one sees me walking. Finally home. Haha, packa cigs by computer. Thank you stove, I needed that fire. Googled locksmiths. Google
“How much does it cost to get your car unlocked?” and it ranged from $35 to $200 (dependent upon the time of day, location, and of course -weekends higher.) Crap.

Yellow pages. No, they're not passe'.. Still need 'em. Local #, called.. “No, I don't work on weekends.. but you can try Liberty Tow”... asked the guy outta curiosity how much he charges.. “$60”.. Figured I was looking at a hunnerd plus... Called Liberty Tow.. . Dude actually lives three blocks from me.. Came to pick me up.. Even took my credit card... “FORTY DOLLARS!” YIPPEEEEEEEEE!

Shook his hand, thanked him, thought “I'll go RIGHT NOW and get a key made to keep in my billfold.” Procrastination led me here. Damnit. That's it. Another checkenginelight story of me/my cruddy vehicles.

Tune in next week... who knows... antifreeze leak.. brakes cinching up.. starter out... alternator, hell who knows. As lock would have it. Love, Victurd.

31 years ago, Don sang....

2011-10-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

I don't believe in superstars, organic food and foreign cars
I don't believe the price of gold the certainty of growing old
That right is right and left is wrong that north and south can't get along

That east is east and west is west and being first is always best
But I believe in love I believe in babies I believe in mom and dad and I believe in you

(Yes, loved the 'veteran' Thomas Jones/Superstar '#1 draft choice' John Baldwin fist fight in pre-season due to Johnathon's “I am somebody” attitude)..
Organic food.. gimme a #2 please, and supersize the fries... GM, Ford, Chrysler for me please.

Mom and dad will always be mom and dad, even if in this day of frequent separation. Babies. I have a 10 month old granddaughter, you better know my opine there!

I don't believe that heaven waits for only those who congregate
I like to think of God as love he's down below he's up above
He's watchin' people everywhere he knows who does and doesn't care
And I'm an ordinary man sometimes I wonder who I am
But I believe in love I believe in music I believe in magic and I believe in you

Nice. Once heard “your true religion is the life you lead, not the creed you profess”.. Many might disagree.. Bottomline though, ok “not to necessarily look the part... but TO BE the part/believe” =ok.

Well I know with all my certainty what's going on with you and me is a good thing. It's true I believe in you

“You” as in wherethehell are you? Jk, kinda

Well I don't believe virginity is as common as it used to be
In working days and sleeping nights that black is black and white is white

That Superman and Robin Hood are still alive in Hollywood
That gasoline's in short supply the rising cost of gettin' by (Gas was $1.35 in 1980, a postage stamp fifteen cents, dozen eggs 91 cents, average wage $17K.)

But I believe in love I believe in old folks I believe in children and I believe in you I believe in love, I believe in babies, I believe in mom and dad and I believe in you.

Some things don't change with time. Cept me, and mebbe u. Reckon we're old folks now. Love, babies, mom, dad... believing in you. Life is still very good, some 31 years later. I believe.
Love, Victurd

For me…. hitchhikers welcome…..

2011-10-18T06:25:00.000-07:00

I see deceased people. I do. Today is today, and tomorrow is tomorrow – but my brain CONSTANTLY goes to yesterday.

I see my sister smiling, doting on a small child. I see her lying in her bed at St. Lukes, a terminal situation – and when we walk in – a most beautiful, radiant smile brightens the room and completely eases the pain we have for her being in pain. She had a way to light up a room, even in her own discomfort. Yes, biased, but also – yes, true.

I see my father… moments after his mother-in-law had stitched up the cuffs of his slacks – walk into the room with one side purposely tucked up 6 inches higher than the other – to the dismay exhibited on my grandmother’s face.

I see my folks, my aunt/uncle, seated around the table playing pitch – ever present laughter – cigs in three of the four ashtrays. Fun. Fun they had. I remember my uncle winging whiffle balls past my cousins and I.

I remember the view from the backseat as my grandfather drove us across town at 22 miles per hour and grandma chastising “MAN, MAN, you’re gonna kill these kids, slow down!”.. (I don’t wanna make my grandmother out as a bad/mean person, to the contrary, not a nicer, more caring person in the world.)

I hear my mother’s voice on the other end of the phone asking (proudly) “How’s my Victor?”.. I see her smile. Her comforting me.

I see cousin Roger, and regret the fact I never told him he was my hero.

I hear Richard Justus’s bellowing voice. I see Louis Biggerstaff riding around in a cool, cool car. I see my buddy Bill Skillman sitting on his throne as the head honcho of the JFK pool. I see Logan’s smile, and I really miss the little guy.

I see/hear my wonderful mother inlaw at the dinner table turn her head to my ex, ask “does he need some more beans?”… She rocked. I will never forget the day – her first day of driving/freedom after bypass surgery (her hubby pharmacist, “by the book” when it comes to healthy eating).. she was parked at a small lot at Bennett Park. Worried something was wrong – we drove up to her.. Right hand after left hand, she was shoveling Taco Bell into her mouth. I loved her. She was a rebel, and a wonderful one.

I cry for yesterday, and not certain if it’s a feel good or hurt good kinda thing. We’ve all lost folks – the above somea the top ones on my list.

I continually see, think of those gone. I love carrying yesterday into tomorrow. Know you do as well. Happy day, love Victurd.

Hip Hip Hooray!

2011-10-13T18:31:00.000-07:00

Can I be semi serious for a moment?

Hi, and thanks to all for the very nice birthday/birthday wishes. Today's blog will be short and hopefully sweet.

I think, when you/I were younger, we weren't quite so attentive. We went, did, kinda with blinders on.

As one ages (my take), you don't verbalize until after you scope out the situation, the reactions/behaviors of those all around.

In spite of my recent “two occasion run-ins” with snotnoses (as always, said lovingly) at fast food joints – I'm here to espouse our youth of today.

My life, at present, is perty simple. I work. And I occasionally (haha) go to “my joint”.. Within those travails, I run across boo-koo 20-somethings, 30-somethings. Where I work, 80 or so folks, the vast majority, 20/30-somethings.

From this,observances/interactions, I am not at all worried about our future as a country. With technology changing/rearranging/updating/adding onto faster than we change undies – the youth of today can/do handle. Will handle. We older folks hold one arm out in resistance - standoffish – the young ones say “bring it on... we can handle... we frothe new information.” And they do.

This ain't so much about that though. This is about the treatment of folks like me/mebbe you....fitty-something and up, by twenty/thirty-somethings.

My dealings, quite frankly, have been superb. I try to harken back to “was I that nice to older folks back in the day”?... and I ain't so sure.

I'm sure though, today's youth is/are phenomenal. They demonstrate care... concern... CAMARADERIE..fun.. optimism.. GENUINENESS in asking about our day/life/past.(And absorption of our answers).. interaction... “looking at us old farts as equals”.. and perhaps the largest one, they BEFRIEND US.

Having a birthday causes one to 'relive' the past year. I am S-O-L-D on the youth of America. And very proud (And thankful) to call many among them, friends.

Love, Victurd

How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?

2011-10-08T10:54:00.000-07:00

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign.. Blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind.. Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Inspitea arguments about The Left, The Right... is our leader a leader... we're easily led. Awaken. Clock's sign says gettyup. Mirror. Signs of aging. Damn light.

Start car. Checkenginelight sign. Ding-signs until the seatbelts are affixed. Stop sign. Left turn this lane only sign. Stoplight sign is red. Green, a sign to go.

Speed limit 45 sign. Yellow lines signal where it's ok to turn into gas station. Enter/Exit signs on the doors. Restroom sign “occupied.” Damnit. Coffee. “WARNING – HOT!” sign.. Duh? Grab newspaper, pay cashier with his Habib sign on. “We prosecute bad checks” sign.

Back in car, more dings, checkenginelight. Open paper. Scurry to Horoscopes. My sign is Libra. A one inch paragraph, letting me know how me, and my fellow 12% of the population Libras, what kinda day we've signed in for.

291 sign. 152 sign. I-35 sign. Signs telling us where we can eat, sleep and get fuel on every exit. Mileage signs remind us how far we've to go, or been. Merge. Yield. Electronic signs telling us what roads are closed, where there are wrecks, even amber alerts.

Can't text and drive, so let's put up 7,342 signs on the way to work and see if they can handle that. Insurance signs. Radio Station signs. Sears. Casinos. Billboards = signs. And the sign said “Everybody welcome, come in, kneel down and pray.”

Brakelights, not a good sign. Tap the brakes. YEOUCH. They're right, coffee IS hot. Car behind tailgating way too friggin' close, would love to give them a sign, but I'm old, frail, and don't have on my bulletproof jacket this morn.

Finally to work. Handicapped sign, nope, can't park there. “Leon's” spot. Sorry, plz take next available. Do. “Please don't clock in before 8am” sign. K. “Enter password”, you know, your 'sign'. Do. Gives me a score sign, or, signs me to 'please remove hand” and do it again sign.

“On'/”Off” sign. Turn on computer. User ID sign please.. Password sign please. Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Open email, clicking the icon sign thingy. Email from boss in there. Oh shit, not a good sign. I move freight for a living. Mailbox fulla “where's this... when will this get there... found that missing piece” signs. Can u getme a “proof of delivery SIGNature on this one?”

Daily announcement over the speaker-thingy “It's 8am, have a great day.” Fancy sign for “We're paying you now, please get your ass to work.” Some, I've heard, spend three more minutes finalizing the daily Sudoku – perhaps the sign of a rebel.

“Here's your (health insurance papers, vision.. dental. 401K... new breakroom rules.. a card for chick down the hall whose b-day it is).. please sign.” Cloudy out. Uh huh, sure enough, speaker-thingy sign “It's about to rain, if your windows are down, you might wanna roll 'em up.” There's one guy, that rebel fellow. His windows are up, but what an opportune time to sneak another cig. “Smoking area” sign. Wave at coworkers, a sign of engagement, happy day offering.

Clock sign says 11:30... time for first lunch shift. On the road again. More signs. Dings. Read the big sign at fast food joint, ordered, and added “and a large water please.” Pass the “next window” sign, pullup, snotnose says “$2.89 please.” BUT THE SIGN SAID the two items I purchased were a buck apiece...”Yessir, but we have to charge you 50 cents for a large water.” THAT WASN'T ON THE SIGN? WHAT GIVES? THIS IS A SIGN WORLD for behoogety sakes. Victor, what's with this recent grumpiness you/snotnoses @ fast food joints? Sign I'm aging, I reckon.

Back to work, park next to Leon's sign. Eat my dollar munchies, drink my GD fitty cent water. Toss the bag with the sign about “keeping our environment” something or other away. Sign back in. Sign back into computer. More emails (signs) about 'where's this, where's that.. when will this one get there.”

And... an occasional fun email read or sent. A sign for mental health.

Drive home. Ding. Eat here. Stay here. Buy this. Right lane closed ahead. Don't drive on shoulder. (Why might I ask would anyone want to? Duh).. Mileage signs going other direction now. To 'my joint'. Park at “15 minute only” parking sign.

Barkeep sees me, sign enough for him to know what I want. I get it. Have mebbe one more. Clock sign says Happy Hour now over. (Why don't we label ALL 24 hours 'Happy”?)..

Home. Phone rings. Caller ID sign let's me know “nope, ain't answering that one.” User ID/password signs. Sign into Hotmail. Piddle for awhile, off to bed. TV on, breaking news signs. Eyelids struggling, sign enough for lights off.

Get up tomorrow (hopefully) – a good sign. And be led all around again by signs. Sign, sign, everywhere a sign,blocking out the scenery breakin' my mind, do this don't do that, can't you read the sign.

Signing off, love Victurd.

Piss & Vinegar.. quick one......

2011-10-06T17:21:00.000-07:00

God Bless Wiki. Had we had Wiki back in dino days, woulda made research papers SO much easier.. learning today is with the snap of a finger, and a few keystrokes, where even simpletons like me can discern piss & vinegar = "Rowdy, boisterous, full of youthful energy."

Wow do I love that. Study it please. Rowdy (without necessary regard to other's thinking)... boisterous (ditto)... full of youthful energy (well hell yeah!).. I think of 'piss and vinegar' as "fun, without stepping on other's toes"..

Since I'm putting this out on FB... a quick look thru 'friend list' and, KMA, but I'm listing those... when I see their names... "piss and vinegar" comes to mind.. and again, from these stinky size 10 shoes, that ain't a bad thing:

FB alphabetizes things.. sorry CJ.. you're up first.. you are mainly calm, reserved, stay in the background, but there are moments when you fill the room with PISS and VINEGAR!..

Schwaby, designated here for I have a love for your "I'll say what I want, and I don't give a rat's ass as to your reaction"

Cousin Jeannie.. you've been a rebel (said lovingly) ever since I've known you... I'm coloring you fulla piss and vinegar!.... Kendra Brumley.. I think piss is your second name, vinegar your third. Love u.

Randel Steven Norris.. when I "Wiki'ed" piss/vinegar, your photo popped up.

Stephen Webb... join the list my friend. Of all the folks I know, you are perhaps THE MOST unpredictable, and I happen to be a HUGE fan of "coming from leftfield." Welcome to the piss & vinegar list.

Made it through my friend list, and if you're in belief of you living a piss and vinegar lifestyle, and swing and a miss on not being on this list... kudo's to you for that belief.

S'more that come to mind.. my son's friend Logan Snodgrass (RIP).. Vic Rowan (RIP)... Rowan and Martin... Buehler.. Ferris Buehler.. Buck O'Neill (in a VERY good way)... Brett, Sabes, Goobie and the entire '85 cast...

I'm certain I've missed many. I'm certain that you, the one person that reads this blog, has names/faces/times pop into your head remembering "piss & vinegar."

I abhor the mundane... I cherish... salute... very much enjoy "piss & vinegar."

If piss and vinegar just lent one suggestion to us over our lifetime... it's
"don't pat answer"... be unique... be alive... be different... screw mainstream... leave 'em smiling (or scratching their heads if nothing else)...

Love, piss & vinegar Victurd.

Past tense.........

2011-10-04T17:39:00.000-07:00

Sure, there's jump, jumped... laugh/laughed... talk/talked... play/played... ask/asked.. watch/watched... wash/washed...

Ain't talking about that. Talking about “past tense”, or, awakening 'round this age, wearing life's “chest protector” and not being too damn bent outta shape about whatevers “up”. I'm past tense.

I've raised kids. Yes, many a night ago abed awake until 2am awaiting the front door to slam. Sure, parent-teacher conferences where the urge hit to pull hair out. The bird has flown the coupe, on his own.. sure, I'll help advise... but... past tense..

Resume', application, interview, HR folks, sweat, nervous-nous, one eye on dwindling bank account..”is this really what I wanna do?”.. “Even if it isn't, I GOTTA feed my family.”... 2nd interviews, more sweat... Phone ringing.. tenseness.. sorry... past tense... done with that. My company gets ridda me, we'll revisit, but I'm past tense.

Aging parents. I'm past tense. I'd give virtually anything/everything if they were still around where I could once again get tense, worry... can't... Past tense. And that's sad. Know many in same boat.

Keeping up with the Jones's.. lushest front lawn on the block... Car spit-shined? Sorry.. Color me past tense... sorry about the Egg McMuffin wrapper from Sunday on the dash.. the jacket I wore last Friday when it was windy - that's laying in the backseat... the 12 cig butts in the ashtray.. I'm past tense about that worry.

DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT HOW YOU'RE PERCEIVED? WHAT FOLKS SAY/THINK... REACT?

Don't shoot me, I'm past tense about that as well. I am far, far, far from prefect (oops) – but I am me.. I do enjoy treating folks nicely... but I'm past tense thinking/reading what they feel/think about me, as I am me.. and I have no control over their feelings. Sure, I hope folks like me, but, the answer to that comes basically from how I've treated them... so, past tense. Hopefully I've done ok...

Old age is kinda about past tense. We've all “ed” too many damn things. (Looking positively, that's experience... been there, done that......... we “ed”)... Past tense, don't worry. Too late, not worried.

I will admit, life's been a rush... and I enjoyed all those verbs in the present tense... “what shall I be?”..job-hunting, mate selection, children rearing, Bettered Homes and Garden.. Occupational overdrive...

Sorry. Color me past tense. “ed'ed out.” Now, it takes a flight of stairs to make my pulse race.

Kinda relaxing living in the past tense stage. Takes awhile longer to get from point A to point B.. the mirror ain't as friendly as it once was.. and I recently etched me a new belt loop hole to assist in recent expansion. All the same, past tense.

Occasionally, I get an email at work and the subject line contains the verbiage “URGENT”.. I giggle. Past tense. And wing 'em an email back:

-----auto-reply out of office... I will be back in the office 3/27/12 to attend to your needs---------------

Festers up some present tense. And hopefully, allows them to reevaluate winging that
GD word 'urgent'. It's no longer in my vocabulary... (lessen the squatter in Mickey
D's is occupied on a weekend morning when I wiggle with cheeks pressed together towards it.., and I GOTTA - bad).. admittedly, semi tense.

Anyways, you get my drift – I hope. Life is kinda-sorta like being a kick return blocker in football. One absorbs blow after blow, you keep marching up field.. sometimes you get pushed down.. .sometimes you push down, sometimes you get hurt.. sometimes you can't stand the excitement.. the not knowing what is coming next, and from where.. . eventually – you see daylight. Past tense.

Victor... might I remind you.. you visited The Dish Pizza tonight.. so this is 3 beers talking, and you promised you'd never do that again? (Color me past tense.) Past all the “ed” verbs. Been there, slopped thru/made it thru – that.

Love, Victurd(ed).....

Forever young, or, wishful thinking?

2011-09-28T18:22:00.000-07:00

I was driving home tonight.. beautiful day in KC... temps, like San Diego weather... Listening to the local “Oldtime rock n roll” station (101.1 here in KC)... windows down... volume cranked to max... like, high enough the guy prolly two lanes over would be annoyed... then I looked in mirror... asked... is this proper? Am I TOO OLD to do this?

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

Switching songs for a moment... People try to put us down... talking 'bout my generation”... By golly, I think it DOES have something to do with our/my generation. If I were 20, 40 years older... or, 20, 40 years younger, mebbe I wouldn't think “our age” so special. But... I do. We had the audacity to ask “why?”... “Because it's always been done this way.” “SO? Why must we?”

Challenge authority? Uh huh, I'm all for it.

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

Buddyamine at work. His gf, circa HS in the late 60's... 2 yr old grandkid comes over.. “Vic, he really takes to her.” Why? (I ask).. “Well... his other granny... she stands erect.. doesn't get down “to his level"... Sherrie does.. she lays on the floor... at “his level” (forever young).. he “gets it”, smiles, giggles, loves her for that. Forever young. I've found the same to be true with my own grandkiddo... by golly, fester down carpet-level... there's an acceptance.. a somehow “we're both young”.. (In spita granny/g-pa's wrinkles)..

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

Wishful thinking? Or, forever young.

Inspitea the changes physiologically to me, those similarly aged, I/we feel young. I'd like to think, I/we think young. Obstinate? Fearful of aging? In light of the fact I tore up my AARP card when it first arrived, age fitty, I don't think so.

Scoff all you want. If you were from beginning Elvis era... WWII era.. Lady Gaga era... Michael Jackson era... (Close your ears..).. I don't give a rats. I happen to think I/we (those in same boat) grew up in the very best “Hell yeah, I ALWAYS plan to act/think young” era there ever was.

Last night.. my wonderful niece and her bf, assisted me in fetching 'new' sofa, chair, ottoman, 30 miles 'cross town. As they followed me, I texted “it's against the law to text and drive”...

Something maybe about keeping a part of the 60's, 70's alive still in our 50's, 60's, 70's. Label, color “us” any way you wanna...

I/we are forever young. Love, Victurd

Egg McMuffins and Grumpy Old Men...

2011-09-26T17:04:00.001-07:00

Victor, WHY must you share your day here? NO ONE cares.. Aren't you embarrassed?

Sorry. I'm guessing 359 days outta 365 in the year grade out at B+ or better.

Today, not-so-much.

Started at 5:30am at McDonalds. SO excited about going to read the morning paper about how the Chiefs damn near won a game.. about how I had two and a half hours to relax before the bell rings at work... about "me time"...

So I walks in... Three-Fourths of 'em (that work at local Mickey D's) don't even ask.. they automatically ring in a sausage biscuit, a sausage McMuffin, a Senior coffee and a water.. "$2.80 please"...

Not-so-much today.

Bright eyed, bushy tailed, walked in. Snotnose behind register. WAIT... Before you judge that (snotnose).. it's said lovingly. For goodness sakes, my 'can do no wrong' granddaughter has a snotty nose - and I willingly use the sleeve'a my shirt, think
nothing of it... versus mebbe wiping my own and thinking "Ewwwww"...

Snotnose is a term said lovingly, to those that got it all ahead. So NOT derogatory at all.

Up I walk to register. Up she walks to register with this electronic thingy attached to her ear...... Her eyeballs met mine (a good start, many snotnose's eyeballs don't).. she said"I'll be with you in a moment".. i thought "cool".. and she punched her headset, said "may I take your order please" and proceeded to fix whatever it was they ordered, meet 'em at the drive thru... and return to me....

Up to my register she walks(again)... no eyeball to eyeball this time.. hey, it's cool... then she clicks the headset thingy again, "welcome to McDonalds, would you like to try a (whatever the new GD thing they've concocted that kids hate to ask, but must)...

So... I ain't too upset at this point.. I do wonder what the sports writers are saying about the Chiefs.. I do 'froth' for the Sudoku page (I'm an addict".. and, actually, I'm kinda hungry...

So, finally, our eyeballs meet again, she at my register.. standing face to face.. Practiced my order silently.. and then, a third time, she clicks, asks drive thru person "Welcome to McDonalds would you like to try a Mango (some damn thing)..."

Right there and then, the AARP, grumpy ole men came out in me. I hoofed it. Quoting Snagglepuss, exit, stage left. And I did. And I get to car, chastise Victor "You dumb ass, you're surely gonna meet up with her again some weekend morning.. she's gonna look you in eyeballs, and remember."

Forgive me Father, for I have old-age sinned. The thoughts "why, BACK IN MY DAY"... "Why, when I was your age........"... and from memory of many moons ago the shoe was on my other foot..... I was a tad embarrassed.

Work, events therein, grew considerably (close your ears) shittier... so, chalking it off as an AARP day. Three-fitty-nine good days outta 365 ain't bad anyways.

Happy Tuesday.... love,
Walter Brennan....(And Victurd)

Hello Lord... If it's Ok by You, I'm taking the day off tomorrow....

2011-09-22T17:35:00.001-07:00

Nothing's really wrong... I just plan on snoozing late... finally awakening to
the smell of the coffee I've set to brew at 10am... putting on a little classical music... light's low... mebbe a trip to the Community Center (if/when I wanna), where I'll bypass the workout room, head for the sauna, and finish off my trip in the jacuzzi... No newspapers, CNN, ESPN, WDAF, KCTV5, KMBC... no radio...

Yes, I'm sure nothing's wrong.. I just want a day off from:

The stock market falling 400 points...

Another article about the Big 12, and this school going here, that school going there... Texas TV revenue.. Congress's present spat.. The Liberal FB thingys, the Conservative FB thingys... The Palestinian bid...

The most recent “3 die in shootings in Kansas City”... Border atrocities.. Death penalty arguments.. Moammar... This athlete's 4 year $60 million contract... Foreclosures.. School layoffs.. Schools shutting down.. Any signs that relate the price of fuel... STRESSY!

Profanity.. Wow, today, went to smoke a cig (I know 'horrible' to some, but stress-breaker to me).. I thought I was standing in Bud's Pool Hall.. Fellow coworker dropped so many F-bombs in ten minutes, I was rethinking “whyinthehell do they call it 'a break' ?“...

Victor, you're really a grump tonight. I know... sorry. I likes “up” and sometimes TV, Radio, Current events, local events, sports, the world, make it difficult to keep them corners of the mouth turned up. So... taking the day off... with intent of keeping corners of mouth up, even if I gotta stand on my head.

I go back to onea my favorite Room 222 quotes (yes, I'm old).. Havoc was basically happening in the hallway, in the office.. nerves of all (students, teachers, administration) frayed.. Principal crosses his arms.. smiles.. calmly says “I'll never forget April 22nd.”... Bewildered coworkers, kids, fellow administration folks looked at him, and finally one blurted “WHY? What happened April 22nd?”...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Seeya bright-eyed and bushy tailed Saturday morning, 9/24.

Love, Victurd.

(Oh.. and Lord... thanks for the very cool email with the “fun” church signs... My favorite was prolly the one that was almost covered by 3 feeta snow and it said “Will whoever is praying for snow, PLEASE stop”!)

It ain't necessarily all about Andy, Aunt Bea and Opie......

2011-09-20T17:34:00.001-07:00

Wow. Whenever I thinka this show, I smile. I remember the whistling to begin the show, the years of the week after week new shows... and of course re-run after re-run after it ended. The Andy Griffith show is/was, America.

Twisting for a moment if I may.. (Victor, it's your blog, do anything you damn well please).. THANKS!..

Son of a buddy'a mine.. recent grad of NWMSU.. had asked the (former now) very successful long-term head coach for a couple of autographed footballs for a fundraiser they had coming up.. Of course, Coach obliged, and buddy's son, an aspiring coach himself asked.. “if I can ask you to list just 3 things that could help make me a successful coach, what would you tell me?”.. Way cool.

Coach Tjeerdsma answered... “Well... organization.. you can't be too organized.. two: don't worry about what you don't have, focus on what you do have... and three.. treat people that take care of you very well.. and I say that: the administration, the office secretary, the groundskeeper, the security personnel, the equipment manager... etc.”

Victor, a nice lesson, but the hell's this got to do with Andy Griffith? Tons. Helen Crump. Otis Campbell.. Emmett Clark.. Warren Ferguson... Floyd Lawson.. Goober Pyle... Clara Edwards... Thelma Lou

The main characters, ABSOLUTELY critical.. Such as.. Andy represents us. You, me, spouses The folks you absolutely dread getting that phone call that will bring you to your knees to learn they've gone to the beyond. Folks close.

Aunt Bea represents aunts, uncles, grandparents.. older folks who've “learned you well”.. folks who may not be quite as swift physically as they once were, yet.. a heightened importance, endearment of them.

Opie represents youth. Long live youth, and it always will. There is wonderful innocence, eagerness, and honesty with youth, and that will live forever.

As I traversed around “The Square” at the recent “Old Liberty High School Celebration” I was VERY delighted with all the Helen’s, Otis's, Emmett's, Warren's, Floyd's, Goober's, Thelma Lou's that jumped out to say “HEY VIC, HOWYA DOIN?!!” I mean, of course I had my folks.. my sister.. I had my best friend Sanford, and my mosta the time gf Teri.. (The main characters of my youth) but my life would have been, and would be, incomplete without all the folks that have 'touched' me as the years have past...

Fellow coworkers.. former coworkers.. HS/College mates, fraternity brothers.. workers in businesses I've patronized, worked with, sought after.. and sure, fellow bar stool mates at the joints I've partaken at...

A gal, semi recently in my old age singledom, once broke up with me because mebbe she thought I smothered her with 'touch'.. Not nasty touch.. just touch.. and that's ok.. a recent email said “biggest mistake I ever made.” Tis ok.

I'll admit, I love touch. And being touched. And I don't mean physical. (Although admittedly, do enjoy that.)

I am touched by those in my life, whether it be for a softball season, a ten year coworker, or some dude who happens to be in line infronta me at the Piggly Wiggly, there's a fervor inside me for touch/communicate/smile/be happy.

Victor, you're making yourself out as a saint. Nuh huh, not the intent. Just me, and what I like. Know many who don't feel this way. See several at work, walk in to start the day... eyes focused on the concrete ahead.. no touch to be had.. and that's cool... Me? I'd rather walk by them (any) or past them and throw in any greeting, or perhaps even a smartass statement about something from the past. I likes touch.

Barney. Crap, we haven't even mentioned Barney, where's he fit in? Ya know, I ain't real sure. I know we've probably all known “Barney Fife types” in our day... and while we recall, we smile, love them.. but we giggle too... Mebbe that's where Barney fits.

Bottomline – the Andy Griffith show was/is peaceful. Fun. Energetic. Creative. Same ole, same ole. Perfect, for that day and age... and I truly believe the Opies of today would enjoy watching it now.

All about happy. Honesty. Fun. Living. The right thing. Finding the proper way to wiggle outta situations... treating those that take care you equally as well... And touch.

I love to whistle, and perform a pretty mean Andy Griffith version, but it's impossible to do so on a blog. So... as I depart, with fishing pole on my shoulder (Don't buy it, I hate fishing)... please close your eyes and 'listen' to the whistling Andy Griffith theme song. Does wonders for me. As does touch.

Love, Victurd.

Magic Bus

2011-09-10T06:55:00.001-07:00

Every day I get in the queue (Too much, Magic Bus)
To get on the bus that takes me to you (Too much, Magic Bus)
I'm so nervous, I just sit and smile (Too much, Magic Bus)
You house is only another mile (Too much, Magic Bus)

5:30pm, 9/9/11. Deserted Pub House - parking lot. Rain.. not just coming down, but going North to South, as in yeowzah... “Magic Bus” (a very long van/coach) pulls in.. One by one they enter... Their present abodes: New York, Dallas, Leavenworth, Kearney, and of course, Liberty...

Thank you, driver, for getting me here (Too much, Magic Bus)
You'll be an inspector, have no fear (Too much, Magic Bus)
I don't want to cause no fuss (Too much, Magic Bus)
But can I buy your Magic Bus? (Too much, Magic Bus)

Nooooooooo!

Hey, that was Waids... yeah, and Krogers right there... Remember Crown Drugs?... Up the hill to Ridgeview.. ah the mems.. Surfer shirts.. first day of 8th grade football watching teammates put on pads the first day 'cause you didn't know how to either.. Mrs. Sumpter... Mr. Eaton.. Mr. Karsten.. Mrs. Lee.. Coach Murphy.. Hey there's Stan Clark''s house...

I don't care how much I pay (Too much, Magic Bus)
I wanna drive my bus to my baby each day (Too much, Magic Bus)
I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it ... (You can't have it!)
Thruppence and sixpence every day
Just to drive to my baby
Thruppence and sixpence each day
'Cause I drive my baby every way

To the old High School.. changed, but so very much the same.. Remember? The Cokely's lived right there.. Rewind the tape – back to when we had more pep in our step.. more glee in our club...

The kinda-sorta nifty thing about this bus tour, it really wasn't 'best buds' who hung out with best buds.. it was a conglomeration of folks, ranging from the Class of '60, to the Class of '70.. Each recalled what school/where they were at when the news of JFK came..

Magic Bus, Magic Bus, Magic Bus ... Up to the Square.. Bud's Pool Hall was there.. yep, Woodys, Mattinglys... remember all the drawers in Boggess?... whitewashing the Square.. of course Homecoming parades.. Mace Shoe Repair.. Breipohls, Beggs, Brants, D'Agees, Fisher's Flowers.. paint it 1965 again.. and we did...

I said, now I've got my Magic Bus (Too much, Magic Bus)
I said, now I've got my Magic Bus (Too much, Magic Bus)
I drive my baby every way (Too much, Magic Bus)
Each time I go a different way (Too much, Magic Bus)

By each one's house... a moment having the floor to point out who lived where, what was done for fun.. and any unusual tidbits.. up to and including learning after almost 50 years “aha, so it WAS your brother who put sugar in my gas tank!”..

To Westboro.. house upon house.. ne'er a patch of land to play ball.. “Oh, true, but.. back then, ours was the only house on the block.. plenty of places to play ball.”

I want it, i want it, I want it, I want it ...

Youth. You can't have it. Or can you? It was a treat to see things “through the eyes of a 16 year old” again. A common love for Liberty. Not way unlike any Midwestern town – still, unique and special to us however. Finalizing the tour – we adapted from the '60's, to present day. What began as Franklin, the Junior High and the Old High School.. is now 12 Elementary schools.. 2 Middle Schools (The hell is a Middle School?).. 2 Junior Highs.. and a humongous new High School, home to the Eagles. (Hey.. we're all “Liberty”)..

Every day you'll see the dust (Too much, Magic Bus)
As I drive my baby in my Magic Bus (Too much, Magic Bus)

The evening topped off by hopping off the bus, running across s'more old farts from our era at The Dish Pizza joint. Rain, health, economics, distance – it didn't stop us. I think, suffice to say, a good time had by all. Viva La Liberty....... love, Victurd

FRIDAY, 9/9.. “Last call.. fun for all”....

2011-09-05T08:37:00.000-07:00

I watch my granddaughter's (attempts) at first steps – and it only seems like yesterday when I walked to Franklin for 2nd grade.

I see 13 year olds text away... and wasn't it just the other day you were in the Oak tree, I was in the Elm – we each had an empty tin can, strung together– and thought it was sooo cool to communicate thataway?

I see (Page after page, post after post) “this side” retorts.. "that side" rebuttals... wasn't it only yesterday we learned “The President is dead” and we were ONE?

I get off work at Five.. slither into the easy chair soon there after.. Wasn't it only yesterday we went to school 8 hours, had athletic practice (or worked parttime job) and then went out until just before the sun came up? (And did it allover again the next day.)

I see the wonderful displays of the master gardeners around our gorgeous city.. Wasn't it only yesterday we walked into Fischer's or D'Agee's(nervously) to buy a boutonniere?

I see humongous SUV's that are equipped to carry the Chief's starting offensive line, and still have room leftover for a few coaches.. Weren't mag wheels, roll up windows, 4 on the floor, 3 on the column only yesterday?

I see us scurry about, checking items off the list to see how rapidly we can complete, be back to that easy chair (To hell with mega shopping centers, give me a place I can pull right up to the door, 'get it over with'... wasn't it only yesterday we “Slow(ed) down, you move too fast. You got to make the morning last. Just kicking down the cobble stones. Looking for fun and feelin' groovy.”

I say, let's go back, even if only for an evening. We have 17-20 folks signed up for the Friday night Fun Bus, 9/9/11... Departing by the old Pub House (now closed, our parking there won't obstruct).. Bus leaves at 5:30pm – and for two hours, it's a time machine that travels back 40-50 years to remember 'our Liberty.” Give us the address of where you grew up – we'll swing by and you can tell us stories..

Oh, and of course The Square, WJC, Franklin, Ridgeview, Manor Hill... THE OLD HIGH SCHOOL.. blurting is permissble “THAT's where 'so-and-so' lived!”.. Chapplers, Eisens,Mattinglys, Beggs. Kroger, Safeway,. Schoellers, The Dairy Joy,...etc, etc..

The folks signed up – we were kids in the 50's... age/graduating class year doesn't matter.. come. Let's turn the clocks back.. comeraderie/smiles permitted.. One hour short of the Professor and Gilligan's three hour tour.. we'll hop off the bus (Gus) at 7:30pm.. To the Dish patio after?

I gotta turn in kinda-sorta final numbers today.... holler.. (Please).. vicschultze@hotmail.com (cell, 816-394-1662) Thanks, Victor

Last call for Fun For All... (FRIDAY, 9/9/11)

2011-09-05T08:35:00.000-07:00

FRIDAY, 9/9.. “Last call.. fun for all”....

I watch my granddaughter's (attempts) at first steps – and it only seems like yesterday when I walked to Franklin for 2nd grade.

I see 13 year olds text away... and wasn't it just the other day you were in the Oak tree, I was in the Elm – we had empty tin cans and string – and thought it was sooo cool to communicate thataway?

I see “this side's” retorts.. that's side's rebuttal... wasn't it only yesterday we learned “The President is dead” and we were ONE?

I get off work at Five.. slither into the easy chair soon there after.. Wasn't it only yesterday we went to school 8 hours, had athletic practice (or worked parttime job) and then went out until just before the sun came up? (And did it allover again the next day.)

I see the wonderful displays of the master gardeners around our gorgeous city.. Wasn't it only yesterday we walked into Fischer's of D'Agee's to buy a boutonniere?

I see humongous SUV's that are equipped to carry the Chief's starting offensive line, and still have room leftover for a few coaches.. Weren't mag wheels, roll up windows, 4 on the floor, 3 on the column, cherry bomb mufflers only yesterday? (Cars back then REALLY had wings?)

I see us scurry about, checking items off the list to see how rapidly we can complete, bet back to that easy chair (To hell with mega shopping centers, give me a place I can pull right up to the door, 'get it over with'... wasn't it only yesterday we “Slow(ed) down, you move too fast. You got to make the morning last. Just kicking down the cobble stones. Looking for fun and feelin' groovy.”

I say, let's go back, even if only for an evening. We have 17-20 folks signed up for the Friday night Fun Bus, 9/9/11... Departing by the old Pub House (now closed, our parking there won't obstruct).. Bus leaves at 5:30pm – and for two hours, it's a time machine that travels back 40-50 years to remember 'our Liberty.” Give us the address of where you grew up – we'll swing by and you can tell us stories..

Oh, and of course The Square, WJC, Franklin, Ridgeview, Manor Hill... THE OLD HIGH SCHOOL.. blurting is permissble “THAT's where 'so-and-so' lived!”.. Chapplers, Eisens,. Kroger, Safeway,. Schoellers, The Dairy Joy,...etc, etc..

The folks signed up – we were kids in the 50's... age doesn't matter.. come. Let's turn the clocks back.. comeraderie/smiles permitted.. One hour short of the Professor and Gilligan's three hour tour.. we'll hop off the bus (Gus) at 7:30pm.. To the Dish patio after?

Fun Bus cost under $20 (depends on final #'s).. I gotta turn in kinda-sorta final numbers today.... holler.. (Please).. vicschultze@hotmail.com (cell, 816-394-1662) Thanks, Victor

Fun car ride....

2011-09-03T08:30:00.000-07:00

I'm leaving Kansas City, Kansas City here I leave... They got some crazy little traffic there and I'm gonna get me gone.

Shopping at Target (152 Hwy... KCMO.. West of I-35 where a kajillion dollars was spent attaining/building new businesses whilst 'we' argued over a Triangle, couldn't agree to whatinthehell to do)...

Left onto 152 (toward Liberty), brief tummy-twinge. “Redlight Row”.. Back in the day, ya honked and waived at damn near every other car.. Now, we're three lanes deep, everyone in a hurry, u have no idea if the person infronta you, beside you, all around u, is from Holt, Kearney, The Big E, Faucett, Smithville, Turney.. who knows..

I live in Liberty, work 30 miles away in Grandview. Takes me damn near as long to simply GET ONTO INTERSTATE as it does to get to G-view once I'm on it. Same thing with this path back into Liberty.. Usually can hear four songs on 101 the Fox, a traffic report, the weather, and 7 ads before I'm back in city limits.

Not this day. Both hands on the wheel... WE'RE OFF! For whatever reason, the drive was timed so I made it past I-35, past the “duh, we better do something” Triangle, the HS, 291.. the little shopping center.. ALL THE WAY to the Jr. High without stop. A miracle.

Soooooo... after I dropped my beautiful granddaughter's beautiful mommy off at her abode – I decided to take my own “Fun Car Ride” (Hint hint) around the ole Eastern part of Liberty – still virtually untouched since back in the day.

Stopped at the Square, mems of everything there.. the parades.. the meals.. the bargains.. the fads.. the pimply jr high nights at The Plaza Theater.. Heard the wonderful Bells from The Hill announce “it's nine am” with nine 'chongs'...

Up around WJC.. wow, the mems there.. watching older sister's buddies play FB.. playing there later myself.. and watching many more over the years.. The Chiefs.. The sight of my hound dog Brownie gnawing on EJ Holub's butt as he rammed the blocking sled. (EJ didn't even turn around, he just kept swatting to get him off, continued blocking.)

The low road, where assuredly some 30-somethings walking around today were 'created'.

Down Miller Street.. The house I grew up in, next door to the Flanigans with 9, count 'em, we can start any damn kinda game we want, there are 9 of us kids. (Later purchased the home I grew up in from my folks.. and it was perty damn cool seeing kid go/do same things I did in the neighborhood.)

Past St. James Church where the old B-Ball court was.. where us kids, black/white/whatever met up, all got along, wasn't 'us against them”.. Us WAS us, all of us. A transitional era we were in back then to correct the wrongs of our forefathers. I think, proudly, we in Liberty, were aheada the game.

Up one stately one way street, down another... ne'er a change in looks from “Ask not what your country can do for you... I have a dream... My fellow Americans.. We have liftoff.”

Toward the High School.. It will always be “the High School” in my heart. (Speakinowhich, the hell is a Middle School... what's an Explorer? A Knight?)... the trees now kinda block the view up to it.. still, in my mind I see it.

So, so many fun times there.. from the first day tummy churning Freshman walk into the door (FRESHMAN? FRESHMAN at the High School?).. Yes, Freshman.. And somehow we survived it.

The games, the fads, the faces, the teachers, the important non-teachers there.. The walks, the locker combos.. the crushes.. the hands held.. the breakups..the notes.. stupid stuff we'd write/have written in our yearbooks.. Detention.. Senior Skip Day.. The “new” building.. Shop.. Ag.. We were all different, yet alike as hell. Co-existed, and quite nicely.

I could ramble on and on about the town I grew up in, and still call home. (Victor, ahm, we noticed the rambling, we GET IT, you love (and loved) Liberty.

Yes, yes I did. And yes I do.

If you'd like to take this same ride... only in a fancified Fun Bus.. Friday, 9/9 (The Big Celebration is Saturday, I'll be back in town Friday.. the hell do we do then?).. you join us, that's what you do. We'll depart close to the Old Pub House (Price Chopper's parking lot) at 5:30pm.. and for two hours “we'll go back to 19-fitty something, 60-something. (It escapes me now, but some movie long ago, they gave the old folks in the nursing home some euphoric concoction that made 'em feel/act like 17 again.)

That's what I'd love for this Fun Bus Tour to be for us. Dial me up at Sterling-1.. no that ain't it... Ahm, Thornwall-7.. oh shoot.. send me an email to reserve your spot.. $20 or less, dependent upon numbers.. we're right around 20 heads now. vicschultze@hotmail.com (Don't forget the “E” damnit.. speakinowhich.. the hell is this ABCDF crap?

ESMIF, love, Victurd.

50 ways to see your city...

2011-08-30T18:15:00.000-07:00

She said to me
The answer is easy if you
Take it logically
I'd like to help you in your struggle
To see thee
There must be fifty ways
To see your city

I truly love my ex. I truly usedta not like it though when she would say "Victor, you've just gotta realize, sometimes, people aren't as whooped up about an idea you might have as you are"

She said it's really not my habit
To intrude
Furthermore, I hope my meaning
Won't be lost or misconstrued
But I'll repeat myself
At the risk of being crude
There must be fifty ways
To to see your city...
Fifty ways to see your city

[CHORUS:]
You Just slip out the back, Jack (McLarin)
Make a new plan, Stan (Clark, Savage, Sales)
You don't need to be coy, Roy (Jones, McAdans, Armstrong)
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus (Gene Getilius?)
You don't need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee (Boggess.. Wood?)
And get yourself free

Friday night.. 9/9.. 5:30pm until 7:30 pm, we're taking a bus for a tour of Liberty. Yes, it's mostly our class (1970) BUT, we want more old people, so all are welcome.. we're gonna spend 2 hours traversing Mill and Main.. where we grew up (our house).. of course the business'es all around...blurting is very much permitted, as well is BYOB too...

She said it grieves me so
To see you in such pain
I wish there was something I could do
To make you smile again
I said I appreciate that
And would you please explain
About the fifty ways

To see your City. Chappler Drug's. Trail's Inn. The InSet.. Mace Shoe Repair.. Woodys... MAttinglys.. PN Hirsch.. The Koo Koo..

She said why don't we both
Just sleep on it tonight
And I believe in the morning
You'll begin to see the light
And then she kissed me
And I realized she probably was right
There must be fifty ways
To see your City...
Fifty ways to see your City...

There are 16 of us signed up. Company that provides the vehicle can accomodate 36 or so. Come. I honestly can't fathom a more pleasing two hours of entertainment than driving around Liberty with other "back in the day folks" and reliving, lighting up "yesterday," (Unless of course should Sarah Jessica Parker somehow get my cell number and ask me if I'm free 9/9 as she will be in KC"... just kidding, kinda sorta..

There must be, 50 ways to see your city..

Seriously, who gives a rat's, class of '65, '70, '74, '68, '76... let's put our eyeballs together for two hours and go back to yesteryear....

If u can attend.. meeting up by Bank of The West (plz park on the Price Chopper side) and bus will depart at 5:30, 9/9/11. (Price depends on attendance.. figure $15-$17.. bring a twenty, you'll be cool.) I can't wait, hope u agree. Just hop on the bus Gus, we need to discuss much. Victor

FUN BUS TOUR.. FRIDAY 9/9.. 5:30P-7:30P (Class of '70, or thereabouts)

2011-08-24T18:22:00.000-07:00

(Howdy howdy.. we ran this by our class first.. got 16 folks.. we'd love to have u join us if u think fun/worthy.. [we do!])

Fun Bus Tour of Liberty, “As it was back then,” 9/9/11.. Class or ’70 ( or thereabouts)..

WHO: You, 1970 graduate, spouse, friend(s) (OR THEREABOUTS)

WHAT: A 2 hour Bus tour of Liberty, remembering “What was where, back then.” Stopping anytime we please, going by our old neighborhood homes, relating who your neighbors were, any special memories.. a return to yesteryear… Of course driving by old businesses in town – to see who remembers where The A &P, Schoellers, Trail’s Inn, Harolds, Bud’s Pool Hall, Chappler’s, The InSet, Eisens, TG&Y, yada, yada – where.. A return to the 60’s, so to speak. Fun Bus allows BYOB.

WHERE: Bus will depart from Price Chopper parking lot (pull down close to Popeyes, Bank of The West, we might gather on the patio at The Dish after… their parking is scarce, and Friday’s they are busy, so we don’t want to hinder their business)

WHEN: Friday, 9/9/11.. Bus Departs @ 5:30pm, to return, 7:30pm

WHY: Because “who says you only go around once.” Come, let’s live, conjure up yesterday.

HOW MANY/HOW MUCH: The company we’re contracting has various sized vehicles. The MAX we can have (hint hint, sign up now) is 34 passengers. If we fill the Trolley (360 degree panoramic views) it would be $17.34 per person (includes bus rental, fuel, gratuity, etc) … If we only have 28 folks, their Mini-Coaches (5’x20’ long windows) would be $14.46 per person. Please note, rate is not set in stone. Say we have 32 sign up, we’ll get the Trolly, we’re responsible for 34 times $17.34 = $589.56.. thus, divided by 32 = $18.42. Bottomline, bring a $20 bill for each attendee, you’ll be cool.

“Flexible” DEADLINE to sign up: We’re to give the bus company 10 days notice so we can insure what size vehicle we need. That’s let me know by August 30th if you plan on attending. If you learn after August 30 you can attend, email me, I’ll do my best to include you.

How do I sign up? Email vicschultze@hotmail.com details of how many, names.. I’ve lived a life of having that misspelled. S-C-H-U-L-T-Z-E. I’d hate to see anyone left out for a typo. Please include in your email the address of the house(s) you grew up in ‘back in the day’ so we can have some semblance of a game plan for the driver.

I think: There’s no way this won’t be fun. After the bus ride: Open to ideas. The Dish has a nice patio – and several of us from our Class met up there last year and had some fun. (Or whatever.)

“Class of 1970 (or thereabouts)” We (sorry) ran this by Class of 70 first (and hope u understand).. got 16 "yes's".. we've got more space

Look forward to it, please email me (vicschultze@hotmail.com) AND DON'T FORGET TO INCLUDE THE ADDRESS(es) WHERE U GREW UP.. thanks, Vic Schultze (816-394-1662)

Thus far attending:

1) Betty Anderson

2) Dennis Anderson

3) Doug Brodbeck: 1201 Middlebrook

4) Nancy Brodbeck: Birmingham Road

5) Janice Wyatt Clack: 627 N. Grover

6) Susan Robinson Faulkner 1017 Orchard (Across the street from “Billy”?)

7) Robert Robinson (Susan’s sister, Class of ’64) 1017 Orchard

8) Karen Gibson-Hull: 441 Arthur St & 302 Corbin St.

9) Karen’s hubby, plz shoot me for not remembering first name!

10) Debbie (Flickinger) Gilham: 1318 Lake Road

11) William Melton: 1016 Orchard Road & La Frenz Road

12) Carrie Ponder: 313 Nashua Road

13) Vic Schultze 8 S. Ridge & 449 Miller

14) Jim Stokes: 1044 Highland Dr

15) Peggy Manness Stokes: 765 Hillside

16) Jeannie Clothier Tyson: 118 Gordon

One man's tribute.. sad, yet so beautiful....

2011-08-16T05:29:00.000-07:00

Letter to the editor in this morning's KC Star....

Love that endures

As my wife, Twila, an Alzheimer's disease patient approached her chair at the dinner table, she was greeted with "This is the queen's chair." She smiled. It made her happy. Nothing could destroy her status as queen, not even the cruel Alzheimer's disease that causes a saddening deterioration of the mind.

The happy and lofty position of queeen for Twila came more than 65 years ago when she said yes to a proposal. Here was the beginning of a true, happy and everlasting relationship that grew over the years and formed the loving, caring and honest thought as queen.

In continued thoughts, in verbal expression and in caring actions, "I love you" was a centerpiece in life. Togetherness brought wonderful joy and helpful identification, a willingness to listen, share and compromise was our strength. And the times of praying, laughing, crying and working together, and helping each and others were binding and honest times.

Although Alzheimers has caused a physical separation, every night before sleep I call out, "Good night , precious Twila. I love you."

Doug Sutherland
Raymore, MO.

I don’t know what I’d do……..

2011-08-11T17:09:00.000-07:00

No humor. There’s really not any humor with cancer. Met up with a buddy tonight, early 30’s, good guy.. extremely family orientated.. his mom, early 60’s, diagnosed a bit ago with cancer.. chemo, radiation.. gone.. for awhile it was gone.. a recent test.. metastasised.

She, for years an oncology nurse… asked her son.. “Do you know the odds of me being alive in three years?”… He knew the answer… He caught her words “don’t bullshit me… I know.” Squirming for an answer, “mom, miracles happen.”

Tuesday of this week, they had a sit down with the Oncologist. A serious talk. “But you know what? Those test results don’t mean anything. They could, in fact, be wrong.” His method of seeking “get up and fight this bastard, you just never know.”

She hasn’t. Isn’t eating. Staying up nights vomiting, even without chemo. I perceived, she’s giving up. Friend, who makes a moderate income, spoke of trying to borrow $5000 from his well to do uncle (with intent to pay back).. to buy a trip for his mother/father, some place cool.. Mom/dad, been together since teens… “Vic, when they were 16-17, they’d already been together three or four years…. She’s my Dad’s everything.

I wasn’t very good in knowing what to say. “Hey, sounds to me you’re doing everything you can the right way. Please go home and Google “cancer miracles” and I bet you’ll find a long, long list. (And I just did, and it is.).. I have a very good friend who is a Nurse Practitioner that works at a Children’s Hospital. There is so much admiration of her from so many of us… I cannot imagine her feelings driving into work, driving home from work… attending a fun event, trying to block ‘the bastard’ out.. laying down at night.. trying to fall asleep, escaping ‘the bastard’.

I don’t know what I’d do if I learned my time here was short. I believe I would spend as much time as I could with my son, his fiance, and my gorgeous (I’m biased) granddaughter.. I would write (NO, not YOU Victor!) those in my life that have touched me, and give thanks. I would make arrangements for my departure, as if planning for a ‘party’ and having it all arranged, paid for, before it happened.

I couldn’t begin to guestimate my mental state. I think my eyes would be opened with greater appreciation for virtually anything/everything. I’m not good at much in life, but I’d like to think I’m “kick ass” in observance. Knowing days were numbered would even heighten this.

We’ve all been led to tears by cancer. For me, sister, grandmother, uncles, aunts, many friends, classmates, coworkers. Just last week, lost a giant of a man – ‘the bastard’ reduced his final days to 100 lbs. Many of you now are perhaps going thru this battle, and that saddens us all.

Again, I didn’t have any great answers for my friend. Our ‘team”, who visited my sister @ St. Lukes Hospital 72 consecutive days in her battle, had the war cry “beat the bastard.” My sister was spirited until the very end – and I hope my buddy’s mom grasps some spirit. One of the proudest days of my life was the day before my sister expired, barely cognitive, very little speech at the end.. that evening when I walked in, she looked up, smiled, and said “baby brother!”.

Again, there are no right answers on what to say, what one would do… I pray for anyone going thru this, or having a loved one/friend going thru this… I pray for a some day cure – where cancer will be in our rear view mirror, and Wiki will tell us “before the cure for cancer occurred in the year _____..................”

Love………… ‘cause love is a good thing, Victor

The scales…

2011-08-08T04:39:00.000-07:00

Another word that’s been running thru my head (scary thought eh?) of late: balance…

Before ever opening a word document and spilling letters on it, I always try to take a look see so I’ll make sure I kinda know whatinthehell I’m talking about. So……. I go to Google.. type “define balance” and lo and behold ‘bout the 8th definition down “The zodiacal sign or constellation Libra.” Yes.. I am that.. (Libra… not balanced)..

Driving home this morn from my unbalanced Mickey meal..”I’d like a sausage biscuit, sausage McMuffin (yummy), a Senior coffee, and a water please”.. driving home… one fresh day from watching my 7 month old granddaughter bootscoot across the carpet to the comfy chair… slither her way up to her two feet… dad running over semi-frantically with two hands out to stop a fall – it came to me.

Life is all about balance. We enter this world, and leave this world, struggling with physical balance – and alst the while in between- nearly EVERYTHING is about balance.

Balance the check book, finances, investments (the hell is that?).… stability (balance) of one’s mind, feelings.. harmony of design or proportion… hell, even sound needs balance.

Work/play. Organizational charts, hirings, terminations, promotions, demotions, comptrollers, receivables, payables... Balance.

Pro sports. A draft is held to offset (balance) the few that perhaps are aging, stills declining.

He can’t cook, she abhors yardwork: jualah, green grass and ham.

Farmers/crops.. need the balance of sun, rain, wind, dark, proper temps. Wine is all about balance. Some whine to balance. Some find having alone-time is a balancer..

To balance criminals, killers, no goods.. we have preachers, priests, doctors/nurse practitioners/paramedics who bring folks back to life. For every loud, incessant person, there’s the shy one over in the corner. For every ‘looker’, there’s a ah-not-so-much.

Good folks, not-so-good folks. Believers, non-believers. Chuch attendees, and those that worship from their homeplace. Revival once.. Preacher had 'em stirred up, a heightened frenzy.. feller in the 3rd row stands.. "Fill me Lord, fill me." Happens again and again. "FILL ME LORD, FILL ME!".. after about the 6th "fill me", little old lady in the back (neighbor across the street) stands and shouts "DON'T DO IT LORD.... HE LEAKS!".

The echo system. Survival of the fittest. Balance.

Have an idea? A plan? A belief? Throw it out amongst friends, family, coworkers – nab the balance of their thoughts. Balance is educational.

I don’t balance my time very well – but, I offset (balance) that by “eh, it’s who I presently am in life, and where I’m at.” I’ll do it (be more balanced)………. tomorrow. 2 in a relationship (cog/wheel) lends balance, adding another cog or wheel, don't work, lends one to be 1, unbalanced. 2 in a relationship, losing 1 forever, really throws things out of balance..

We sleep for balance.

Off balance. Beginning way back in the day, with Candid Camera, and running thru America’s Funniest videos – we’ve laughed, hooted, hollered and cried about the balance, lack thereof, of others. Onea the funniest emails I think I’ve received was bloopers of ‘seniors’ losing their balance upon various scenarios.

He’s off kilter, “out there”, unbalanced. Took a date to Ponaks one time, little gal. Two margaritas later, the waitresses had to help her with her balance on return from the john back to our table.

There is never perfection. We all struggle with balance. Marriage, self worth, self confidence, inter-relationships, work, play, abilities, inabilities and having the ability to realize “ok, that’s something I’m just never going to be any good at”.. a balanced approach/thought/realization.

Pills, innoculations, elixers, potions, diet, weightlifting, running, jogging, walking - all about seeking balance.

We vacation, to gain semblance of balance. We work so we can balance the bills the mailman delivers, or those that pop into our dot-coms. We bathe to balance a day’s activities. We call, write, talk, to balance our need for human interaction.

For sexual drive we…….. well… you know. Balance is both wonderful, and a struggle – personifying the definition of the word.

To offset this, tune in tomorrow when the topic will be poop. Just kidding. I wouldn’t chit you.. you’re my favorite turd. Love, Victurd.

Life, post nuclear family….

2011-08-03T17:23:00.000-07:00

Visiting with a chum of mine tonight… Great guy, from a wonderful family… He’d just gotten off the phone with his mom, late 70’s, a penchant for driving up fairly frequently from her abode 200+ miles South of Kansas City – to pull the one-arm-bandits of the KC area casinos.

“Coming up MONDAY! Can’t wait to see you!”… (She’d just come up 7 days ago).. “Vic, it’s getting to be a bit much… she’ll say, let’s meet for lunch Monday, and it’s like “Mom, I can’t just drop everything.”

Yes.. yes you can. Again, I love this buddy like a brother, and he’s got wunnerful head/life smarts. And I pointed out, “Hey, in a heartbeat, I’d drop everything I was doing if it were possible to meet my mother on Monday for lunch”.. (He’s aware I’m the only one left from a family of: mom, dad, sister, brother.)

“I know Vic, and you’re right”…
Damn right I am.

A very short blog, zilcho humor (sorry).. to simply say “If you have nuclear family still on the planet, please… absorb them.. drop any quarries/quarrels…. Don’t let ‘distance’ be a hurdle..

TOUCH, frequently.. Toss the word Love with regularity.. Harken back to yesterday.. dig out a poem, a letter, a picture, a scenario, a anything from yesteryear – and share, dotingly.

I love you all and I honestly don’t seek your tears, your “Oh Victor, I’m so sorry”.. of course everyone is.. and that’s cool (and I’m thankful). … I’m talking about YOUR today/tomorrow – and “who’s left” and “time left”.. And your actions between now and “you just don’t know when.”

“Partials”.. Relatives who may not now completely have all of their mental/physical capacities. Avoidance of them is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. One of the saddest days of my life, also turned out to be one of the happiest days of my life.

St. Mary’s Hospital, Blue Springs, MO.. late 90’s, mebbe early 2000… My father, he and I the remaining living/breathing from family of four… I wheeled him into the lobby, started talking about my mother and my sister… I welled up when I realized he had no idea who I was talking about…

An hour later.. back in his bed… fast asleep.. a nurse walked up to me.. “I just wanted you to know.. I know your father has dementia, but I wanted you to realize how proud he is of you…. He told us all (and again, proudly) “My son is a bellhop at this Hotel”.. A laugh/cry/feel good/feel uck kinda moment.

I’ll get off my high horse. In closing: have family, go love. Love, Victurd.

Gifts

2011-07-27T18:17:00.000-07:00

Onea those damn “define” websites lends “something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone, honor an occasion, or make a gesture of assistance; present”

Gifts… children. Weather that is comfy in a car that ain’t gots no blower fan for heat or AC… A dog’s loyalty… The receiving end of a smile… Being on either end of a compliment.

I worked for one of the coolest bosses I ever had in the mid-80’s.. I taught Elementary PE, she, Irene DeArman, was the Principal. One of her favorite sayings was “catch them doing good.”… Who woulda thunk the impact that mighta had on some wet-behind-the-ears dude that oversaw gymnastics, push-ups, pull-ups, recess, Hill Dill, Dodge Ball, the 50 yard dash, etc, etc, but it was impactive.

We all love compliment – a gift. Hard for some to lend – perfect from others to hear “just in the nick of time.” Thanks to that lesson, whenever I hear/see “catch ‘em doing good”, I try to relate/thank, same. Victor, suggesting you’re perfect? Quoting my stepson, “not no’s, but hells no’s”… Twas (hearing that) simply onea those life impactive moments where you stop and think “wow… that REALLY makes sense” and growing up in the 60’s, “far out.”

Gifts… a simple email. A smiley face affixed to a sticky note at your desk. A voicemail with the word “love” in there. Casting eyes upon someone from a bit ago, the impetus for the smile that it conjures up – the so very damn many happy thoughts/mems that go thru your brain of u/this person from yesteryear – a gift.

Relatives. If you’re old like me, u scan thru family albums, you’ll note, “many ain’t around”… when u see ones that still are – a gift.

Cloud cover on a 100+ degree day. A brief rain shower in a drought. A bonus check (unexpected) from your employer. Familiarity. Laying down in bed after your body/brain have been extended to the max on this specific day.

The words “thank you”. Saying the words “thank you.” Follow through on a promise. Any fun, UNFORMAL writing, within email communication. I’m weird, I love to write, I prolly spend 45 seconds to reply to an email when it should only take 30 seconds, don’t give a rat’s – hopeful for a baby smile on the other end.

Visiting with someone your own age. Visiting with someone much younger than you. Visiting with someone much older than you. Visiting.

Hearing laughter after something you’ve said. Laughing, loud enough for the person who’s said something funny – to hear. Laughter.

With apologies, as always, to my relatives: intimacy. BeEn AwHiLe, BuT hAsN’t EfFeCtEd Me.

A handwritten, or typed personal letter via snail mail. Being included on a damn funny, or “oh my goodness” email.

Driving into work, and you’re ok with that, in fact, even look forward to it. Cigarette breaktime at work and reminding fellow co-workers “we don’t talk that work-shit while we’re on break.”

Patterns. Same ole same ole. Be it the couple that sits at table 7 on a Saturday morning in Mickey D’s, the cars as they pull into the lot at work – same spaces, day after day – goes back to familiarity. Familiarity is a gift.

You – your eyeballs. Your comments, even if they never reach my ears – I am thankful. I am blessed to be able to ramble aimlessly, and to have u put up with it. A gift.

For Irene, tomorrow – “Catch someone being good”. Love, Victurd

I like carry….

2011-07-23T13:51:00.000-07:00

Interesting word. Carry on luggage. Similar to carry baggage? She’s carrying a child. Carrying twins. She too could pick the child up and carry. Look at the twins she’s carrying. (Perverts).. Can’t push away from the dinner table either? Carrying excess baggage too?

Support and move from one place to the other. The waitress carried the dishes. Waiters would be male carriers, but not mail carriers. Conceal and carry, me thinks u need a license for that, but anyone can carry conceit. Or guilt. Or pride, self confidence… some don’t carry much pride, confidence.

Some carry germs. Cooties I think we called it back in the day. Ticks can carry Lyme disease. His pickup only carried three passengers. Some pickups carry… well, you know.

You work for our company, you must carry that responsibility and represent us well. Cars carry us to work. Planes, trains carry many. Pilots, engineers carry mucho responsibility. I usedta carry bags for an airline. Foolish spending didn’t allow them to carry thru…

Onea my best friends is named Cary. Lotta ways to spell it.. works for dudes as well as dudettes.. Cary, Kari, Kerry, Kerri, Cari.. sCARY.

Dine in, carry out. Sorry Cari, no carry out. She drank too much, Karri’s out. Cash and carry.

Playing football carries the risk of injury. Holding a firecracker in your hand, lighting it, then throwing carries stupidity, but, reckon I’ve done it. Both me and my six and half fingered friend Lefty have. Carry on. He single-handedly carried the weight of the team on his shoulders (no, not Lefty, and I’d be ashamed if I were you!).. Each bike carries a ten year warranty.

Carry on. Continue. And some continue, continue, continue. Carried away I think they call it. Barack carries veto power..He carried the votes, Kerry didn’t. Protesters carry signs.

Tradition to carry bride across threshold (before carrying on.) Doesn’t everyone – wait?

Wow, that gal can carry a tune… The preacher’s voice carried throughout the auditorium..

Float trip soon. Will tie down everything we carry on. Learned that one hard way. River dry? Carry the canoe some. Carried us ten miles.

I’ll go now. Sorry, got “carry”ed away..... Carry on.
Love, Victurd

I haven’t bitched, griped here since 4.16/11.. or.. Reasons why I’m perfect..

2011-07-18T18:12:00.000-07:00

Victor, we’re out there with you in that same world… Idiosyncrasies drive us bonkers too.. MUST you share the ones that bug you?

Idiosyncrasies, that bug me, by Henry Gibson.. Incessant. Working around someone that verbalizes everything, EVERYTHING, they do. Talk as they think/do. Again, and again, and again. Do they still make corks for things other than to shore up a wine bottle? Is it at all possible that the ears don’t work when the mouth is open, cause I think this be the case.

Loud. Don’t get me wrong, I hear a gamut of songs, I crank. I’m talking ‘work loud’, no, not incessant person.. nudder.. Yes, what one is working on is THE MOST IMPORTANT thing in your day/moment, but it’s not so important that folks 17 cubicles over haveta hear too. I comprende folks have no idea the volume with which they speaky, but I’d love to see everyone bring a tape recorder with ‘em to work (do they still make ‘em?) and replay at day’s end. Insert turning head side-to-side, exhaling thru bouncing lips here.

The old guy (prolly my age) in the way too GD (gosh darn) tight lycra outfit on his bicycle at the 4-way stop on the Western edge of town. When I was a kid, I think I remember “right turn, left arm extended, bent at 90 degree angle, with palm, upper arm pointing upward. And left turn, simply extending arm horizontally to the left. Hot. (More on the heat later).. Hot. A hunnerd. I traverse the 35 minutes (no AC) back to my hometown, come to the 4-way 6 blocks from home. Said “too GD tight lycra outfit guy on bicycle” and I next up to go. No signal from him. Repeat, no signal from him. So, my brain thinks, “the guy’s wearing “too GD tight lycra outfit on a bicycle” (remembering rules from yesteryear), he’s obviously going straight. (He going South, I North).. So I go. Straight. At the same time, he turns left.. gives me this astonished snarl, lifts his palm up mid-chest, palm up as if to say “what gives you idiot”.. I take a deep breath, and then lapse into that person I don’t wanna be and yell “SIGNAL!” at the “folks 17 cubicles over” can hear level.

I go to Mickey D’s every Saturday/Sunday morning. It’s my fattening treat to me. I walk in, 5 snotnoses (said lovingly) behind the counter, all faithfully refilling whatever spoon, straw, condiment, whatever it is they’re supposed to refill. This goes on for two minutes as I stand wantonly bellied up to the counter (which probably equates to 45 seconds, but whatever, too GD (gosh darn) long for a paying customer (ain’t that “why we’re here?”) to go without an order being taken. Twenty, even ten years ago, this woulda never popped out.. but to the oblivious ones (and no one in particular) I verbalized “I’m ready to order now.”…

Little redheaded gal comes to the register, gives me onea those overly fake “ya grumpy old bastard” smiles, and takes my order. She then goes back to refilling whatever it is she’s refilling. Roughly a full minute after I see the gal place my goodies in the “I’m ready tray” (I love this gal, the cook.. She GETS customer service”).. my order-taker is back filling whatever it is she’s supposed to fill. Ten years ago I’da never said “I think my order is ready”, but I said it, and redheaded gal goes, fetches, anudder plastic smile that bodes “Wow, you are REALLY a grumpy old bastard (topped off by "have a GREAT day!").. and perhaps I am/can be a grumpy old bastard..

Then again, I’m perfect. My well maintained car has no AC. Today, the driver’s side windows decided (both) “eh, we’re gonna take a break, sorry.. good luck fixing” (They’re down btw).. I go to the dadgum hangout too frequently.. I don’t eat right.. I smoke like a chimney… Without using the word “shit”, when at work I deem management to be UPON OCCASION fulla shit, off base, I relate same.

I have sheetrock falling down in my home ‘cause I ain’t got the $10K tucked away for a new roof (I know, I know, “insurance”.. I know it’s due to age.. I couldn’t consciously “turn it in to insurance”

I ‘waste’ hour after hour on the internet.. My neighbors keep the city on speed dial as my grass approaches “that length”.. my backyard is atrocious (was once a nice underground pool, shrubs, yada yada).. I have stinky breath, and upon occasion I probably have skid marks (VICTOR! You’ve relatives that read this!)…

Once again, I’m glad I’m perfect, and it’s really everyone else that’s messed up.
Happy day, love Victurd

(Victor, maybe you need to simply get laid) <-- HEY! NO FAIR.. to all my relatives who perhaps happen by here, I DID NOT type that!... My password has obviously been hacked!)

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

2011-07-07T10:23:00.001-07:00

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Color me a simpleton. A dog’s tail wagging. Hugs. Pecks. Strawberries & Cream Cheese.. Peanut butter and banana sandwhich.. The beginning of a Rolling Stones song.. The Pledge of Allegiance with hand on heart..

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Acapella’s that I’m envious/thankful for hearing.. Friends.. Cold beer in a glass.. Laughing so hard u must cover orifices before something leaks out.. Puppy breath.. Waking up.. Going to bed.. A full gas gauge.. Facebook.. Email..

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

Family, loved ones. MY GRANDDAUGHTER. . VICTOR, NO!!  walking behind a lady with a fantastic derriere. .. Cuckoo clocks.. Walking into the AC on a 90+ day.. Walking into the warm home on a sub-zero day.. dresses.. gals that do their hair up cool and in different ways..

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

My best friend Sanford.. The Mill (you’d haveta see it).. The peaceful noise of a river/stream.. Watching two in love.. determination on a kid’s face.. Writing.. Did I mention women?..

I simply remember my favorite things – and then I don’t feel so bad..

Love, Victurd

Parking... it is a signifcant life factor

2011-07-06T18:07:00.001-07:00

Parking. Never discussed. You don’t pickup the newspaper, read about parking. You don’t drive into work, go to break with friends, talk parking. It’s a mundane, thoughtless, have to kinda thing for us all.

I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.

Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.

To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.

My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.

Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)

Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.

Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with no apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.

Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.

The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.

The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.

Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…

Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.

In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.

Love, Victurd.

Parking.. a significant life factor....

2011-07-06T17:33:00.000-07:00

Parking. Never discussed. You don’t pickup the newspaper, read about parking. You don’t drive into work, go to break with friends, talk parking. It’s a mundane, thoughtless, have to kinda thing for us all.

I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.

Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.

To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.

My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.

Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)

Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.

Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol”.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.

Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.

The drop off illegal parker. Guilty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.

The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.

Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…

Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.

In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.

Love, Victurd.

Parking.. a significant life factor….

2011-07-06T17:28:00.000-07:00

Parking. Never discussed. You don’t pickup the newspaper, read about parking. You don’t drive into work, go to break with friends, talk parking. It’s a mundane, thoughtless, have to kinda thing for us all.

I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.

Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.

To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.

My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.

Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)

Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.

Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.

Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.

The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.

The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.

Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…

Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.

In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.

Love, Victurd.

Regrets

2011-06-30T18:51:00.000-07:00

He wants to dream like a young man
With the wisdom of an old man
He wants his home and security
He wants to live like a sailor at sea
Beautiful loser…

Regrets.. I’ve had a few… I shoulda not quit teaching, would be retired now. 1981, United Airlines. “Victor, we’re laying off in Kansas City, you can go to New York or Chicago PERMANENT part-time, or quit.” Oops. Many of my buds who did are retired.

Beautiful loser
Where you gonna fall?
When you realize
You just can't have it all

S’more regrets. Wish I’da spent money I’ve spent over the years on 5% beer on a 5% 401 K instead, oh well,but then again, think of the many, many smiles, happy times, camaraderie.

He's your oldest and your best friend
If you need him, he'll be there again
He's always willing to be second-best
A perfect lodger, a perfect guest

I regret not selecting the perfect woman for me, or, I spose conversely not being the perfect man for she(s)… I am far, far, far from perfect – but twice in my life I’ve heard “it just isn’t there any more”… Beautiful loser, sure – but, don’t believe that was all my problem.

Beautiful loser
Read it on the wall
And realize
You just can't have it all
You just can't have it all

I regret not telling folks I REALLY love/like, that I really love/like ‘em. Not any longer – I do tell. What better than hearing from someone “Hey, I love you”.. “Hey, I really like you”.. and thankfully, old age has taught me to spout that out with pretty good frequency nowadays.

You just can't have it all
Ohh, ohh, can't have it all
You can try, you can try, but you can't have it all
Oh yeah

I regret not knowing cats until my 30’s… I regret not being home frequent enough now to justify a hound. I regret not saying to the ones who are now gone, who impacted my life, “hey, you impacted my life.”

He'll never make any enemies, enemies, no
He won't complain if he's caught in a freeze
He'll always ask, he'll always say please

I regret any moments, periods of shyness. It feels so good nowadays to have this converted extrovert inside me that ain’t afraid to say “damn, you look nice today.” “Hey, I heard how you handled that situation on the phone, way cool” I regret all the missed years of not pumping people up, ‘cause it in turn pumps me up. Selfish? Mebbe, but not a bad trade off.

Beautiful loser
Never take it all
'Cause it's easier
And faster when you fall

Fallen. Done plenty of that, over and over again. Only regrets there, simply not “getting up fast enough upon occasion.”

You just don't need it all
You just don't need it all
You just don't need it all
Just don't need it all

Thanks for the song Bob. Kinda made me dance/type/sing all in one. Ok, I spose I regret the missed years of “who gives a damn what you look like dancing, get out there an FEEL.

1. to feel sorrow or remorse for (an act, fault, disappointment, etc.): He no sooner spoke than he regretted it. (Been there, opened mouth, done that)

2. to think of with a sense of loss: to regret one's vanished youth. (Nah, lived, loved, and loved the times)

3. a sense of loss, disappointment, dissatisfaction, etc. (comes with living)

4. a feeling of sorrow or remorse for a fault, act, loss, disappointment, etc. (Comes with being human)

Sure, life sends us regrets. All in all, I’ve had a pretty darn good life, sure, with some regrets. Hope urs has been wonderful as well.

Love, Victurd

Embrace…

2011-06-25T13:42:00.000-07:00

A very spiffy word (to me anyways)… My first thought: a hug.. not naughtily, but platonically. A bit more emphatic if related, or mebbe longterm friendship involved – or perhaps accentuated by time, distance.

Ya gotta love a hug.. “Says” I love you, no matta what’s transpired. I love you, for WHAT has transpired. Even mebbe simply, I really love/like you as a person. It’s just a few seconds, but in those few seconds the mind focuses, the corners of the lips upturn – and ‘feel good’ is simply heightened.

Yeah yeah, sure, there’s that passionate embrace… at least I think I remember.. First hug at the Drive In theater (shortly followed by that baby peck)… that first real embrace on one’s wedding night.. Everyone DOES still ‘wait’ don’t they? Hehe. Victor, don’t laugh at ur own crap. Sorry, slipped.

That ‘naughty’ embrace…. Why do they call it naughty if it’s such a beautiful thing? Anyways, Dictionary.com or onea those sites I Googled told me embrace is even euphemistic for “you know what.”

Onea my favorite observances of embrace happened recently at a Royal’s baseball game.. Military dude, believed to be overseas, proposes on the HUMONGOUS scoreboard to his girlfriend.. and… well.. just watch it if you like:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6SsQ0cAI8Y&feature=player_embedded

I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t come back and finish reading this either, was/is kinda boring… as in “ahm, sorry Victor, I really didn’t embrace the idea.”

Embrace a candidate… an idea… a movement.. a hobby, a sport, a TV series, a culture, yada yada yada… lot to embrace over. Adopt, espouse, seize, comprise, cover, embody.. yeah baby…

Ain’t real sure who wrote it, but Pete Seeger and The Byrds, in 1966’s “Turn, Turn, Turn” sang: To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

Embrace = hugs. Hello’s and goodbye’s, with a whole lotta feel good inbetween – but it romantic, platonic, blood kin, longtime friend, the “do you remember when we…” kind.. Hugs/embraces, are a very good thing.

Stolen: Don't fear change - embrace it (Anthony J D’Angelo)..; Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course (Shakespeare).. The older I get, the more I embrace my own idiosyncrasies (Brittany Murphy)… We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. (Kenji Miyazawa)..

I’m embracing your thought/idea that this is getting kind boring.

Nevertheless, embrace is a very, very good think. Oozes of passion, many types. May embraces very much be a part of your life…

Hugs…. Love, Victurd

I dunno.. some junk we mighta missed....

2011-06-16T19:02:00.000-07:00

The Dueling Pistols.. DAR.. . Coach Cokely, Coach Owen.. K Mart.. National Merit Scholars.. Eisens.. First National Bank.. Commercial Bank.. The Police Blotter in the Liberty Tribune.. Their competitor The Libery Shopper News.. Help Wanted Men/Help Wanted Women.. . Categories.. Liberty Hills.. McBowl (Harrison, Joan McCoy, Ida Skinner)... Mr. Stevick (RIP)...Awards Assemblys.. P. Casper Harvey..

1967.. Elections.. sewers.. city offices.. a hospital.. the city's biggest industrial plant.. Manley Thompson mayor.. The old City trucks that would spray bug spray in the summers... Jim Mayberry, Charlie Lee - two of the best ever.. A curfew proposed in September '68... Liberty House/Bedingers.. Hydro House????.. Beagles Rental Center..

January 11, 1968 (from old Tribune) Residents show up

Yesterday,

2011-06-11T17:47:00.000-07:00

All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Yesterday. Banana bomb pops from the ice cream man. Slip and slide with no worry about high water bills. A ‘one speed’ bicycle with a ball glove on the handlebars. Kick the can with practiced whisper voice. Freedom. Freedom to roam without worries, responsibilities.

Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

School. Buddies. Unpaced fun times. The Twin Drive In. The Koo Koo. A respect for the role models in our lives – be they our parents, our teachers, relatives, bosses at our first jobs..

Why she Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said, Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

Eh, speaks to broken relationships. I loved yesterday, carry many very good memories. Yesterday is a scrapbook of the mind. Everything ends. Even incessant folk's orations.

Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

I see no reason to hide. I love today. I am at an age, whilst not deathly – aware. Aware the better parta my life is probably behind me… yesterday. So, whatthehey, live/love/enjoy/go/do.

Why she Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said, Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

We went over that already, but it’s kinda fun (for me anyways) to revisit past relationships.. First crushes, first loves, 8th grade sock hops, proms, courtwarmings, homecomings, first “you know”s, engagements, marriage(s)… to have shared a special moments/times in life, with a special person – cool. Thank you yesterday.

Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.

Yesterday has made us who we are today. Life’s events have been poured into that big funnel – and we’re each somehow molded from that. I loved yesterday. Quite often, the brain steers to a certain moment, happening, event, from a certain yesterday day – and it makes the corners of my mouth turn up, smile, and sometimes tugs close to that damn crying moment.

I look way forward to tomorrow, simply to create, file, immerse, love, indulge, enjoy – and create, future yesterdays.

Love, Victurd.

A short jump off a long Pier….

2011-06-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

That time of year again. Corporate Challenge. Mostly by default (no volunteers) I sign up for some sports junk annually, unfortunately with brain thinking/oft time acting 20-something (and no regard for my age, body.)

Played basketball last year. They don’t group by age, and all it took was one ‘season’ to comprende, “Victor, you shouldn’t do this.” So didn’t.

Played softball, didn’t embarrass self, so – a success (in spite of us exiting after two games in the double elimination tourney.)

Long jump, aha, I usedta do that… did it last year.. Victor? You’re old, you repeat yourself, are you gonna tell that ‘far board/near board’ thing AGAIN? Mebbe. Bite me.

First, traffic. This event was held in “Jaahnson” County (on the Jayhawk side of State Line). At a High School two times the size of the college I went to. I Google Mapped directions, and off I went. I swear to goodness 135th Street went straight from my work to this place at 135th and Switzer.

Didn’t. A dead end halfway. I’d decided to take the backroads, ‘cause the 4-6 lane Interstates in Kansas scare me. They’ve got it backwards there, the motorcycles dudes aren’t mandated to wear a helmet – when in actuality they should wear full armour.

Six lanes, way too many damn people, all using the tailgating rule of thumb “one tire length per every 10 MPH.” Driving the Interstates in Kansas makes me more nervous than Barney Fife after five cups of coffee. People sneaking up on me bugs me. I can sense, at work, when they stand behind me when I'm mid-email to a customer. I know they are reading, so I switch to all caps.. type I KNOW YOU ARE STANDING BEHIND ME. BITE ME AND GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE and mosta the time they giggle, await my end to email.

Heard of two wrecks on the main drag as I gallivanted lost going the backroads. Eh, I finally made it.

I missed the main entrance into the joint.. took the 2nd one.. and lo and behold, over 100 guys within 50 yards of me practicing the long jump. Only one other car in this closeby parking lot. The dummies. I had on work clothes, “how far is the bathroom to change?”.. Uh oh (too).. “I gotta pee. HOW FAR TO THE BATHROOM?”…

Could it be? The old nervous tinkle I remembered before an athletic event? Nah, incontinence. Just then, I saw my empty Ronnoco coffee cup, aha, our problems are solved. They’d have to have binoculars to see anyways.

The ‘far board/near board’ thingy from last year.

Last year. Two lanes to jump. Also, two options to jump from. There was a board ten feet from the pit, and one five feet from the pit. “Sir, which would you prefer?” Puffing what’s left of my sagging chest out, “Why, I want to jump from the board that’s ten feet away, tyvm.”

I ran, hit the board perfectly, jumped 9’8”, which is exactly 4” from the sand, and on very hard asphalt. “Ahm, is it Ok if I switch to the close one?” “Sure”.. “Thanks.”

So, back to 2011, we warm up. The flat-bellied young punks chose a spot on the runway from just this side of Topeka to start their trek. Nomme. I picked a spot somewhere’s between Topeka, and a point where you could read the fine print on the judge’s clipboard as she stood next to the landing pit.

A few run throughs, I delicately mark my ‘spot’ where I should start to perfectly have my right foot land on the jumping board. I was maybe 20th in line. “Cafeteria style”, no order, go when you want, but ya gotta line up.

Finally me.. “Which board sir?”.. The far one. K. You’re good to go. Went. I think I picked a spot too far back. I was outta gas within 25 yards. Footwork off, scratched.

Last year, only had 40 and over. Aha, this year, fitty and over. Ever look at a crowd and try to deem whointhehell is as old as you? Some are obvious. One old codger, no hair, hit the (far) board perfectly, well into the pit. Damnit. I for sure ain’t taking first.

The dude I was standing in line behind initially gave me some motivation as his T-Shirt said “You don’t quit playing because you become old, you become old because you quit playing.” I laughed... then cussed when I realized the bastard was 20 years younger than I.

2nd jump. “Ahm, the close board please.” Gimme a break, you had to get one bonified jump in to get points for your company. I timed it so my left foot hit the board (not the foot I jump off of.) Shit. But, I was now official, points for company.

Standing in line for 3rd jump. Envious as this little turd four infronta me got ready to jump, his body a perfect V. I kinda sorta remember a V, but they had dials on TV’s back then. He had a remarkably long jump, and then he lay in pain in the pit, grasping his knee.

Finally he made it just behind the pit, but paramedics were called, and jumping was stopped for some time. Ain’t like on the Interstate over there.. “Tow their cars to the side please, drag the folks to the shoulders, I MUST get home to my BIG HOUSE.”

Finally, he was standing up, being put in a cart to take him to his car. Jump #3 ahead. Finally my turn. “Close board please.” K. With the wind at my back I was OFF… full speed (for me).. I hit the board perfectly, I’ll never forget that millisecond in the air (it reminded me of when starting my lawnmower, and choking/gurgling sound) and I landed… a bit further this time, but not very far. I will neva’ disclose the distance. HA! I will just say it was roughly a foot shorter than last year when I carried fitteen less pounds! Done. Done I was.

Free at last, free at last. I jump in my car, onto the Kansas Interstates. Not one, but TWO tailgating wrecks in the first ten miles. Grrrrrrrrrr Kansas.

Some 25 minutes later, aha, halfway between Antioch Center and the Ford plant. Think "I’m home." But, then - there was some gal tailgating me within inches at 68 mph. She was wearing pink lipstick, that close. So.. I moved to the slow lane. Of course, her license plate had the “JO” and the wheat.

I dunno if I should continue doing this crap. Maybe I should just give in, join the old codgers at the retiree table at Mickey D’s every morning. Nah.. the brain thinks too young.. in spite of the body telling me otherwise. I am hardheaded. One day I'll learn. Pride is hard to swallow, but it eventually will go down.

Happy day, love, Victurd.

You keep saying you've got something for me.

2011-06-05T07:28:00.000-07:00

Something you call love, but confess.
You've been messin' where you shouldn't have been a messin'
and now someone else is gettin' all your best.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

Ah yes, 1966, the one hit wonder. Smitten I was. Twelve years older, wunner what she looks like now?

But Nancy ain’t today’s topic. Today’s topic is ‘walkin’…

You keep lying, when you oughta be truthin'
and you keep losin' when you oughta not bet.
You keep samin' when you oughta be changin'.
Now what's right is right, but you ain't been right yet.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

Taking the beautiful Ms. Aubrie Rose (my g-baby) and her perty momma to the Piggly Wiggly – afforded fitteen/twenty minutes in the car whilst they shopped – and I watched the different walkers. First vehicle that pulled in – out pops a dude roughly my age… looked like he coulda just jumped off the stage at a ZZ Top concert. Enter assumption/presumption here: MEAN lookin’ dude. Prolly varmits living in that beard. Wonder how his blood flowed ‘cause I wondered if he (“those types") even have a heart. Damnit, just shoot me.

To the other side of the car he goes.. Opens the door, and patiently awaits his 90-something year old mother to stand. Takes her arm in his – and they make that longest walk from the handicap spot, he, EXTREMELY patient, loving. ZZ I apologize, there’s a BIG heart in there – you rock.

You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin
and you keep thinkin' that you´ll never get burnt.
Ha!

Big folks, little folks, young folks, older folks. Married folks, single dads, single moms, single men, single women. Happily, lazily, in a hurry, enjoying the day.. Lazy folks who pull up to the door and don’t park ‘tween the lines. One very gorgeous lady drew some rubberneckers as she made the stroll in – why - one old codger even almost scraped his head on the visor as strained his neck, but I managed to stop myself from that just in time.

I just found me a brand new box of matches yeah
and what he know you ain't HAD time to learn.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

Are you ready boots? Start walkin'!

Little blue truck, tinted windows, all kinds of VFW stickers, USA ribbons allover it. Frail gent, happened to be black, gets out.. Takes the longest time to gather his balance. With cane, slowly limps in – and very obviously a probable war wound to his right leg the cause for the limp. How would that be? Reminded every minute of every day of that. Proud. He has to be proud. His smile was infectious as he greeted two in passing – he’s painted the view wonderfully in spite of being cursed for life while protecting us all, his country.

Ms. Aubrie. She ain’t walking yet. Five months old. On her belly, the legs and the arms flail in attempt to – but the belly simply centers her – not allowing her to walk… Buddy’s 90+ mom lays in a hospital all day, mind 100% perfect, ability to walk vanished. Damn…. A lifelong friend, 60-something, never driven a car a day in his life. Walks EVERYWHERE. He’s got 20-something looking legs. Bless him.

Ascent, descent. Aubrie rising up to walk… in viewing the various ages coming in and outta the Piggly Wiggly – a very definite correlation to speed, age, agility, lack thereof. Do we take walking for granted? Me thinks we do.

That goofy internet dating site I peruse.. many suggest for a first meeting “simply taking a walk.” Yeah, notta bad idea. Life is a walk – at least for those of us fortunate enough to. Who’da thunk fitteen minutes at the Piggly Wiggly could be so, stimulating, even approaching wunnerful?

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

Are you ready boots? Start walkin'! Love, Victurd.

Sharing Google (about marriage/divorce):

2011-06-01T19:00:00.000-07:00

Do not pass go, do not collect $200, do not call me a Simpleton.. I personally happen to believe EVERYTHING I learn from Google...

Average age to marry, 27 for men, 25 for women. Length of courtship, 2 years, 3 months. More than 8 out of 10 couples who cohabitate will break up either before the wedding, or afterwords in divorce. About 45% won’t marry.. Couples who do are 50% more likely to divorce than those that don’t.

I ain’t sure of my own personal stats, but I know #2 (for me) was a cohabitate kinda thing. I guess I should known eh?

Four rules to a successful marriage…

Uno) Care.. “you must learn to become an expert at meeting needs whether or not they seem important to you.”

Dos) Protection: “Avoid Being the Cause of Your Spouse's Unhappiness…. You and your spouse were born to be angry, disrespectful, demanding, annoying and dishonest. These are normal human traits that I call love busters because they destroy the feeling of love spouses have for each other But if you promise to avoid being the cause of your spouse's unhappiness, you will do whatever it takes to overcome these destructive tendencies for your spouse's protection.

Tres) Honesty. Honesty is the only way that you and your spouse will ever come to understand each other. Couples are not only ignorant of ways to improve their marriages; they are often ignorant of the problems themselves. To avoid conflict, they sometimes deliberately misinform each other as to their feelings, personal history, activities, and plans. This not only leads to a failure to meet an important emotional need, and a withdrawal of love units when the deception is discovered, it also makes marital conflicts impossible to resolve. After all, how can you and your spouse solve a problem if your cards are not on the table?

Quatro Time. Undivided attention… Schedule time alone together…

(I read an article today in KC Star… It told the story of a Minister who was being charged with the murder of a dude he’d counseled. Turns out, he was having an affair with the dude’s wife.. “got ridda him” [even performed ceremony at his funeral].. above written by some feller in clergy. Not suggesting correlation. Good luck to you.

Why couples divorce….

Unfaithfulness

Loss of intimacy and connection

Inability to communicate

Abuse and mental illness

Control

Differences in personality

Differences in goals and views

Percent of people that reach their:
5th anniversary = 82%.... 10th = 65%... 15th = 52%... 25th = 33%... 35th = 20%.. 50th = 5%

One stat I found interesting… First marriages that reached their 20th anniversary.. .Married between 1945 and 1948 = 82.5% still married… Married between 1970 and 1974 = 57.7% still married.

We take things lightly we do. "Eh, I’ll get it right next time." I vote = bullhockey, but I’m a 2-time loser so who am I to address! I think it's poopy that in today's society, it's so very easy (and socially/morally "Ok") to simply give up so easily.

I thought I compiled a lot more stats than that, sorry. It’s toward the end of this blog, and you are STILL here, and you STILL seek words of wisdom from feller who: 1st marriage 7 yr… 2nd marriage: 20-some years.. BOTH FAILED.

I ain’t got answers. Hardest life lesson to date (no pun intended) one only controls their own feelings. God Bless you (those) still going strong. I am so glad u ain’t gotta see the view from the other sidea the fence.

To those wondering, ogling, slobbering at the view of the other side of the fence: put it back in your pockets, and eye sockets. DON’T be envious of the person that goes/does what he/she pleases. That ‘tires’ after about 37 days.

One thing up above that really hit home for me: Inability to communicate. I ain’t no preacher (your wife is safe… and Dadgum I hope you know I jest in the preacher thingy.. I know the vast, vast, vast majority are wonderful)… but.. again.. the inability to communicate… As I reflect on ‘my own slides’, and as I hear friends going thru ‘yuck times’.. it comes to mind: Have you ever grabbed ‘em by the collar, FORCED ‘em to look you in the eye so they comprehend the IMPORTANCE of how you feel/what you think?

Wanna hear the funny part? I, the blog/FB/stupid idiot who posts and doesn’t think about repercussions/feelings/opines of loved ones, co-workers, fellow SigaMaNu brothers (yada yada yada). post each and every blog I do on a stupid dating site I’m on. See? I toldya I was a simpleton, I believe everything Google tells me.

Happy day, love Victurd

Decades

2011-05-30T09:40:00.000-07:00

After 26 games of Sudoku, six “no replys” on a goofy online dating site, and 12 games of solitaire – my ashtray was full.. I was outta smokes.. to the car to replentish with my cheesy “I am a po man” pack of Decades. (Symbolic perhaps of this most recent decade.)

1 to 10, hella fun. Nervous days in Elementary school, as we moved 19 times in this period. “Hi, I’m Vic… oops, seeya!”.. Mankind still hadn’t grasped how to be kind to all man.. Rosa, God Bless Rosa, helped. But many, many strides to yet come. Fortunately, we kids were oblivious to color. In some ways, ahead of our time.

Vibrant, youthful, happy parents. The “first crush.” I personally thought Sue Harris was the bomb, ‘cause she could outrun ANYONE in our school, including Stanley Savage. Never told her. I guess that comes with being 10.

11 to 20, ohhhh transformation. Bodies aheada the brain. Tons of sports. Small freedoms early (riding bike anywhere u wanted in town).. large freedoms later.. Old enough to vote, serve our country – but sadly, by that time, not many wanted to. Viet Nam days were waning, yet a Lottery was held to give each birthdate of the year “a number”. Of course, #1 would go first… 365 last. I sweated and sweated and sweated – on my way to #236. Then, Peace happened. Thanks goodness.

High School – ohhhhh High School. It’s a lifelong bond kinda thing. Folks from the same era, the same small town. Trip to Mickey D’s this morning, I see this bright, vibrant smile across the way.. yep, that’s Gale Coe, he always wore that smile. “HI VIC!”.. “HI GALE.”. exchanged pleasantries.. and then upon exit “Is it just me Gale, or does time fly?”.. “Vic, time flies!”.. Nonetheless, catching glimpse of someone who’s shared the same time/same things you have/did, tis special – always will be.

21 to 30. Oh shit, I’m supposed to be an adult. We’ve come to an end of our “twenty years of play” – real life is ahead. Seemingly, every third weekend, another friend’s wedding to attend. Children even popped out.

Playing sports 7 days a week with bonified referees, uniforms, people in the stands – a thing of the past. Now, Sunday nights with buddies/pals. Still competitive, but, opponents shared a beverage after.

Pick a career? I must? How do I know, at age 20-something, how I’ll feel, what I’ll like at age fitty, sixty-something? (I’d list my resume here, but my printer is about outta ink… or… as my wondeful ex father in law termed it “That Victor, he’s a nice, nice man.. just maybe a little occupationally challenged.”!!!!!)

31-40: Parenthood. We’ve become the “Vibrant, youthful, happy parents” that we remember so well in our own household during our youth. Wow, didn’t know how hard, trying they had it. We must monitor/aid in safety, dreams, nurse/doctor, psychologist, chef, “bring home the bacon” literally/figuratively and even refereeing.. AND try to sneak selfish moments of our own time alone. Thank goodness for aunts, uncles, grandparents in allowing those mini-breaks from it all.

It’s routine now. Both the filled up calendar, the drive into the office, the evening family meal, bedtime – and weekends, yippee. We try to emulate our own folks in providing, role modeling – and perhaps a tad harsh on our age group, but those were big shoes to fill. We grew up in a wonderful era/time.

41-Fitty. Kids now becoming the age “Oh shit, I remember what I DID back then… DAMN!”… When you heard the engine start, the car leave the driveway – baby pitter patters of the heart in hopes of the return safely. Hopefully, a good job has been done in guidance, moral education.

What’s that? QUIET? Now whatinthehell do we do? We’ve been runnin’ for twenty years! Wanna slow dance? Make out? Nah, we just did that last week, let’s watch a movie. Ok, suits me. Besides, I’m on edge due to the lackaprogress of the IRA.

Fitty-one to present day. WHEN did I get those wrinkles in my arms that I see when I bend them? I KNOW this is the same damn house, but WHY does it seem so much farther to the damn bathroom? I’ve NEVER hadta run before!

At work, not so fond of when the boss comes around. See those I too was once "a young asskisser” – huh uh, nomme now. Just lemme do my job, and said politely, sir, can you just leave me the hell alone?

Toured The Kansas City Royals Hall of Fame the other day. Groupa mebbe fitty folks, didn’t look much different than myself, and my almost the same age cousin. Halfway thru, Guide starts asking “Who remembers back when(such-n-such) happened?”.. Cousin and I raise hands..look around.. no one else does. This happens, 6, 7 times in a row. It hit me. I’M OLD.

No matter where ya go, there’s younger turds ALL AROUND! They're EVERYWHERE!

Ahhhhhh, the grandkids. Nature does recycle itself, and wonderfully so. What’s that? She won’t stop crying? Ahm, darn, hope she cheers up/feels better SOON.. (SEEYA!)… And we drive away, leaving those vibrant, youthful, happy parents to guide, counsel, nurse, teach.

Aging does have a way of making one ‘appreciate.” I’ve written here before about being old, and onea those townies from the same era will say “VICTOR, YOU’RE NOT OLD!” The hell we ain’t. Fess up! Knowing that “ends one day will happen” actually gives us focus to stop, appreciate things we might notta stopped to appreciate, behold - back in those other decades.

This has been, admittedly, a bit of a trying decade for me, the old “oh crap, I’m single?” fart. Yet, driving to work the other day, heard “it’s official.. the household with two married parents is now in the minority” so methinks I ain’t the only one sailing solo.

61-70, I’ll work on this later, and I promise LARGER FONTS. 71-80, that would be a gift. 81-90, who are you and whyinthehell am I writing you?

Oh crap, I’m outta Decades… to the car for another pack. I hope you’ve had as much fun as I’ve had on this planet. I’ve enjoyed the rollercoasters within each and every decade. Some, sitting side by side with another, some - solo occupant. Life is fun, interesting, trying, engaging, wondrous, rewarding, smile worthy….

At least at this age, we’ve learned pulling ones hair out is of little worth… but then, at this age, we have a reason not to pull out any hair.

Life has truly been a gift. And, each day hereafter is as well.

Happy decades, love Victurd.

See the funny little clown...

2011-05-21T10:51:00.000-07:00

Tears….

God’s way to relieve the pressure.

Happy tears, sad tears, sympathetic tears. Sure, self pity tears.

Control. We all like to be in control, but crying dissuades that. Oft times, crying is hated, a last resort, so so many words said without any exiting the mouth.

Emote. Care. Concern. Worry.

I am finding, as I age, a kinda-sorta ‘return to infancy’ – ie, crying comes so very easy again. Sometimes it’s wonderful, sometimes it sucks – but hey, in the end it helps. Stories, tales, situations invoke tears easier now. We bank our emotions over the years – occasionally become satiated – and then there’s impetus to ‘the pressure valve’ and the pressure is released in the form of tears.

Happy tears. Movies. Seeing a grandkid’s pic. Friends. A loved one. Many precursors to happy tears. Initially, one feels silly – then, as reason logs in, ya turn to thankful – or at least I do. (Merember, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome.)

Self pity. Sure, been there, cried that. Again, ya hide from mirrors, people in these times… feel foolish after.. but, it lends a fair hand connecting the next step – build me up buttercup.

I can’t imagine a life without emotion. Those you see that seemingly are this way – ya wonder “do you think they cry?”… or… “Do you think they care (about people, friends, family, THEMSELVES?”

I am man, hear me roar: I ain’tashamed of crying. I’m glad I do/can/have/will. What better than “feel”? Perhaps the reason behind the phrase “going to go have a good cry.”

My beautiful granddaughter Aubrie Rose… Every day at work, I flip my computer on – forget she’s my smiling screen saver – and there’s a moment of awe, always complete with a tummy yank, and yes, sometimes a tear.

She sees me quite a few times a week, but, at just under 5 months old, she’s still yet to figure out just who this grandpa feller is. I will hold her. Dote. Coo. Sing. For the first 60 to 90 seconds, I’m kinda entertaining… then… that bottom lip puckers up, without saying she says “PLEASE mister, give me back to my mommy or my daddy”, and then the tears flow. A millisecond I’m sad, then – I’m reminded, aha, they treat her well, love her so, have gained her trust. Way cool.

When I hear friends gripe, groan, type their woes on Facebook, I’ll occasionally type “crybaby.” Teasingly, lovingly. Truth is though, it’s me that’s a crybaby – but ya know what? I could give a rats what others think about that – for crying covers so many realms, emotions, past/present/future/those missing-no longer with us….. I’m happy I cry.

Love, Victeared.

"Slow Dance"... This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital.

2011-05-20T07:26:00.000-07:00

SLOW DANCE

Have you ever watched kids
on a merry-go-round?

Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?

Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You better slow down.

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

Do you run through each day on the fly?

When you ask “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head?

You'd better slow down - Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

Ever told your child, “We'll do it tomorrow?” And in your haste, not see
his sorrow?

Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die cause you never had time to call
and say,'Hi'?

You'd better slow down.

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last..

When you run so fast to get somewhere you miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift.... thrown away.

Life is not a race.

Do take it slower

Hear the music

Before the song is over.

Eye can see clearly now….

2011-05-18T19:25:00.000-07:00

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day.

Four years ago… eye docs office.. I’ve told this before, apologies. As one ages, they repeat things. I’ve told this before, apologies.

Four years ago, eye docs office… 30 minutes of close scrutinizing into my eyeballs. (My first EVER trip to eye doc)… Finally… “how old are you?”.. “Fitty-four”…. “You’ve got cataracts in both eyes.”… so, surgery, awesome results… one ‘fake lens’ the UP CLOSE kind.. ONE, the distance KIND. I threw away literally 7 pairs of Dollar Store “readers”, HELLO newspaper, HELLO PC, I CAN SEE YOU AGAIN, as in miracle.

Today, Wiki’ed “problems after cataract surgery.” Sometimes they come back, I found. Oh shit. Eyesight is precious. Wonderful. A gift. I don’t wanna lose it. That got me to thinking, what else in life don’t I ever wanna be without?

I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin - for
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day.

I don’t wanna be without those 4 little fingers and thumb that wrap around ONE knuckle and melt my heart like no other gal EVER has. (My 4 month old granddaughter Aubrie).. and of course, son, Mika, and for that matter – all my kin…

Look all around, there’s nothin -but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin -but blue skies

Coffee… That cig that simply tastes the best. Music. Baseball (Ray).. The Chiefs.. my buddies… Softball (Scroll to “oh shit, surgery again”).. laughter, banter, tease.. email… Facebook… people my age… people younger, and God Bless – people older….

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)

Heat in the winter, fan in the summer (ok, sometimes the AC, mostly fan.. .could live without AC).. My car… The News on TV (Victor, this is getting boring)… A sense of humor… picking out a beloved coworker or a friend and winging a compliment about them infronta as large a crowd as I can muster – cause I LOVE LOVE LOVE good people feeling good about themselves.

Hamburgers/Cheeseburgers (Beggars/choosers, the bowling alley “300 burger”… to die for)… Memories of yesterday… Simple stuff that looms SO large: smiles.. meeting face to face with a recognized one, and that smile (or “hey”) that follows… forwarding an email that ‘bout made me pee my pants in laughter.. Keeping/knowing the revelation “some folks just don’t enjoy life” THUS IMMERSE YOURSELF IN/WITH/LOVE THE ONES THAT DO. I swear smiles light walkways.

Choice. Opting here for choosing good, as in “life is pretty damn good.” I wanna hang, rub shoulders, befriend, KEEP as friend, those that choose thataway.

I… me… me of the 1.65 Maryville first year of college GPA… the C-/D+ guy from Karston’s 7th grade science class.. the feller whose perhaps best friggin SIX years of my life were in the undergraduate world, AM A SIMPLETON. That said, little things seemingly (and do) loom large.

Eye can see clearly now. (And hope to even better after eyeball surgery numero dos.) Keep loving life – I do, love Victurd.

So I Googled “Things to do when you are bored.”

2011-05-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

My house is staring at me. It wants/begs attention. I don’t wanna. Tomorrow. I’ll get to that tomorrow. My belly juts out, pleading “Victor, make me like I was back in 1970” -> I ain’t got the energy. So I went to stupid online dating website, where there is actually a place where you can ‘chat’ with other singles.. the ones I tried musta had very good eyesight, they didn’t wanna.

So, some’a the crap Google suggested:

“Give your cat a mohawk.” “Setup your Christmas Tree in May.” “Serve ping pong balls as hors d’oeuvres.” “Have a formal dinner at White Castle.” “Flash your goldfish.” “Balance a pencil on your nose.” “Program the courthouse clock to play Dueling Banjos at the top of every hour.”

And of course, remembering back to the day where I/we actually admitted I/we was/were simpletons/bored:

Out and about on a Saturday night. Had’a buddy, whom we’d asked “wanna go too”..”Nah, thanks, you guys go ahead.”.. so we did… we ‘borrowed’ 132 real estate “For Sale” signs, and plastered them in his front yard after dark.

Putting a poo-poo cushion in Naomi Johnson’s chair.

Affixing a Playboy foldout out to the roll down map of the United States in Naomi Johnson’s class. (I dunno why we always picked on her… nice lady.. mebbe that’s why we did!)

Super gluing the plates, silverware to the tables at Miller’s Diner…

Await a friend finally falling asleep, shave his left eyebrow off.

12 Sigma Nu’s. Carry Dr. Mathis’s VW up to “The Quad”….

Then… I found a (close your ears) “Do gooders” site with suggestions:

Hangout with old people. They have great stories and sometimes need the company.(Nah, I do that a couple three times a week with Tom/Clay already.)

Perform random acts of kindness. (I will…………….. tomorrow.)

Try brewing your own beer. Or make your own wine. (Jualah! I likes!)

Start a blog. (Nah, I suck at writing.)

THERE! I did it. The above got me from 8:14am to 9:53am. My once almost empty ashtray is overflowing. It’s only 5 hours now until softball practice. The bastards, had it last week too and I was unaware. Without saying so – me thinks “Victor, face it… you’re fitty-eight, you’ve had cataract surgery for behoogity sakes.. wanna coach first? Maybe keep score?”.. hehe.. and I just might do that…

Such is the life, the light, the way – of being an old, single bored fart. “Getting outta the batter’s box” (both figuratively and literally) becoming more difficult. I will though, I promise.

Tomorrow. Love, Victurd.

A preachment, dear friend

2011-05-14T06:51:00.000-07:00

You are about to receive on John Barleycorn
Nicotine and the temptations of Eve

No, not really, ‘cause if God were umpiring and had an ‘indicator’ (the little thingy umpires click to keep tracka strikes/balls) I’d have three strikes on the above.

No parkin' by the sewer sign
Hot dog, my razors broke
Water drippin' up the spout
But I dont care, let it all hang out

Actually, my $29.95 Norelco portable razor purchased in 1998 STILL works quite well tyvm, and water does drip at my house – I’ll fix it later. This/that was a recording.

Hangin' from a pine tree by my knees
Sun is shinin' through the shade
Nobody knows what its all about
It's too much, man, let it all hang out

Usedta do that (hang by knees).. me thinks the already red-faced me would become carmine if I again did that… and… the biologics of my body have changed a bit over the years – not so certain the knees could persist in keeping my belly from visiting the ground.

Saw a man walkin' upside down
My T.V.s on the blink
Made Galileo look like a Boy Scout
Sorry 'bout that, let it all hang out

I usedta could do that (walk on hands) but scroll to just above paragraph. Boy Scout? Ha! Whilst wholesome family, we really never attended church. To make the move from Cub Scout to Boy Scout, I hadta get with local Pastor, donate so-many hours in whatever needs the church grounds might have, get his signature……. I chickened out/dropped out.

Sleep all day, drive all night
Brain my numb, can't stop now
For sure ain't no doubt
Keep an open mind, let it all hang out.

Open mind – I try to do that. Slip sometimes. WHAT? You’re getting MY (4 month old) granddaughter’s ears pierced? (Oops,sorry, slipped)…

It's rainin' inside a big brown moon
How does that mess you baby up, leg
Eatin' a Reuben sandwich with sauerkraut
Don't stop now, baby, let it all hang out

Scroll to leak above, sometimes does rain inside. I’ll fix that. Sometime. I would neva-eva eat a Reuben with sauerkraut even though my name (Trivial Pursuit tells me) is THE most common German surname. Schultz is like Smith there I reckon. Patooey, no sauerkraut for me, sorry.

Let it all hang out
Let it all hang out
Let it all hang out

I do like this nonsensical song. I do like fun. I don’t mind making an idiot of myself here – the hell, life’s for living, ya don’t like this – pass me on by – hell, two have chewed me up, spit me out.. aNd I’m StIlL dOiNg Ok, HaSn’T aFfEcTeD mE. (oR iS tHaT ‘EfFeCt’, get them two mixed up)..

The gist, to me anyways, go… do….. live.. don’t have regrets.. allow your own mind to be the best judge of you…. Smile.. speak (attempting to draw smile from another’s face).. compliment.. praise.. love… share… join in… mebbe stupidly, onea my biggest goals in life is simply to have been liked as a person. If I were to walk away, keel, disappear, ne’er e’er to return – it’s my greatest hope “I liked that guy” would run thru the brains of those I’ve come across.

No parkin' by the sewer sign
Hot dog, my razors broke
Water drippin' up the spout
But I dont care, let it all hang out
Love, Victurd.

The drop of a hat….

2011-05-12T07:04:00.000-07:00

Dunno about you – but in this whimsical, topsy-turvy thing called life – respites of “no feel” exhibited, felt, demonstrated, lived, abhorred. I will admit to being a humongous glob of yuck following “D #2”.. (the last lady, of some 20+ years)…

Kinda reminded of the high dive at the ole JFK swimming pool. Ya know – ya jump off from a hella high height, your feet hit the water – hurts a tad simply due to the force – and you go down, down, down… for a brief moment, you wonder if you’ll ever surface again (and mebbe sometimes seemingly not caring if you don’t)..

Then – when you reach that very low point – it hits home “this ain’t where I wanna be” and your hands flail, beg, push, pull – ultimately rising, reaching the surface again. There, you smile, peruse, you realize, hells bells, there’s other gals in nifty bikini’s – I see the sun.. I’m breathing, safe, walking, seemingly Ok, life – it ain’t bad after all.

I dunno if it’s age, wimpiness, faint heart or what – but I get hella emotional any more over the least little thing. This morning, going thru the obits, too damn many bright, shining, youthful faces. WHY? Without knowing any of them – I clammed up, felt that little tinge run from my belly to my face…

Happy. Happy brings out life’s emoticons. Doesn’t have to be witnessing, observing someone I know.. I guess I’ve always been a tad on the sentimental side – but me, this age – it’s different. I think to myself “I should HATE this, being so easily stirred” – but I don’t. I rejoice in it. I guess I’m kinda reminded of a 25 year old clothes dryer. When new, whirled, nary a sound. Now, a bit more worse for wear, but happily, noisily, still spinning, whirling - simply appreciative of the "still going."

Victor, you are kinda a dumbass to lay this all out for everyone to see/read. I don’t care. I’ve said five hunnerd times – I write to me, hitchhikers welcome. And.. I bet, of the three or four that might stumble by here – there are others who are easily emoted – and they don’t mind it one little bit.

To feel is a wonderful thing – I vote rejoice in it. Thankful for it. Blessed to be it.

Another thing I noticed (scroll to “dumbass to lay this all out”)… I’ll pretty much say what I think now. Compliments, previously stowed away, now surface with ease. No intent ever to hurt – but the words flow more easily. If I see friend and they look good, I let ‘em know. No intent other than to let ‘em know. If I see something/someone doing/having something I like – I say so. Them thoughts usedta be in the belly (I guess) and would have trouble zipping up to the brain, and down thru the mouth. Not so any more. Live. Love. Like. Say. Do. Breathe.

You a grandparent? Ohhhhh my.. To catch eyeballs with my lovely 4+ month old g-baby, see her wing me a smile.. makes me feel like Superman with Kryptonite. Allofasudden I could give a rats about my leaky roof, the right rear tire that needs air daily, the occasional "more month than money"... It is a feel, after fitty-eight years, I am so wonderfuly thankful to elicit. YAY Aubrie Rose! LOVEYA!

Distaste? Oh sure. Who doesn’t see/hear things that makeya wanna upchuck. THAT’s when I allow my thoughts to gurgle/stay down in the belly – never surface. That’s when I turn the other direction, get the hell away, “don’t wanna be here, hear this”.. and I do. Am I painting myself “better than thou”?.. Quoting my wonderful stepson “Not no’s but hells no’s”…

I recently wrote something on Mother’s Day on Facebook about the passing of my mother some 25 years ago.. did so simply because I think of her every day.. I got the most wonderful email from a guy a few classes aheada me in school.. He admitted to tearing up as he read this posting. His email meant TONS to me – and simply reinforced, this is a great age.. a great time of life.. and way, way, way AOK to show, say, feel, cry, love, smile – use that damn ticker before it eventually gets too many miles on it and shoots crap.

Happy day. May you have a good cry. A good smile. Wing a comp to a buddy. Look in the mirror and appreciate that those lines are thankfully from smiling over the years. Love, Victurd.

Confidence…

2011-05-11T18:13:00.000-07:00

Life is weird. Sometimes I feel like I’m in SUPREME shape, I’ve reached the apex of “the run”.. I’m goin’ downhill now baby, notta damn thing that can stop me!

And… then other times, I have an extremely difficult time concentrating, focusing on the good in me/my world.. and I’m brought to deafening silence (close ur ears, mebbe depressed/depression.) Silence everywhere, but to my brain.

Smiles pump me up, prop me up, and even sometimes, invoke tears. I hate when old folks dote on their grandkids (not really) but doting on my “a bit over 4 month old g-baby”, when she invokes smile – there's notta damn soul on the planet that can budge me from ‘heaven’… I’m truly a sappy person around her. She can do no wrong. She can’t ‘say’ anything, but whenever she finally starts doing so, she will say no wrong.

I am confident in the work I do. I smoke too many damn cigs (they’ve told me that) but whilst so, I fret, turn upside-downside, thinka this carrier, that carrier, all the time constraints involved – and ultimately, I perform – and when I do, it’s with the best interests of the company that feeds me in mind.

When I thinka ‘boy-girl’, me-she, holy crap. I slip into the mole hole. I’ve married, what I believe to have been, two very good persons. (Don’t live in Utah, nope, not at same time.. one 7 yrs.. d’udder a bit over 20 yrs)…

Both ended. Sure, I’ll share some blame. Comprende. But, wanted neither to end. (Both did, and I welled up the 2nd time I’d said “till death do us part” cause I’d already said it).. So…. Tepid.. as I go forward. “Why even do/attempt this again, it will just cause more wrinkles… and Victor, have you seen a mirror lately?”. I know I know.

Then I remember the good times.. The loving times.. The “what it’s like for two peeps to share their day/night/morn/their everything.”
So, I reach hand out. And occasionally, a gal with very poor vision will respond in like. And then I clam up.

I honestly am torn between “I am not so sure I wanna do this shit again, for however many years, and then have it all yanked away – to where I run to Miller Lite, the computer, my buds, anywhere “but there”…

(Continuing on the torn between).. Do you REALLY think it’s possible? Could good be good infinitum? I’ve ‘butchered’ my first two “draft choices” – whythehell would you believe #3 would be any better? Just the statement “#3” carries a stigma. As in ‘eww’.

Then, I see pics of gals, and gals in the flesh and blood – and they exhibit that wonderful, adoring, (“I love life, I’m a very good person, I would NEVER diss you”) smile.. and I melt. We wing wonderfully expectant emails back and forth…

And then I sit back. Yes, no. No, yes. Give it a try. But, whythehellshouldI, u know what will happen. Nostradamus, whyinthehell did u have to die in 1566?

All that said: Victor, you are difficult to live with occasionally, just ask Victor… Why even try again?

Baseball Ray... three strikes and you’re out. Hell, you ain’t so far from Shady Acres, what possible kinda fun could you have tween now and then?

Could you stand one more “seeya later”?
Like sands thru the hourglass, so go the Days of our Lives.. Victor, might I ask.. have you had a beer tonight?

My secret. Happy day, love Victurd, hiccup.

Moms..

2011-05-08T07:31:00.000-07:00

Moms hold their breath when YOU cough and don’t let the air out until they’re assured you’ve taken your next breath in.

Moms carry you between their hips for nine months - and then several years after on their hip.

All salesperson's should be a mom, for there is no close match to the empathy they exhibit.

Those first few comfy words from mom, be they in person, by phone or by note - work wonders in calming whatever life’s present woe has lent.

Moms spend but few hours physically delivering one - but a lifetime thereafter delivering love, care, concern.

Moms have an unrivaled resume’: Doctor, chef, psychologist, chauffeur, inventory assistant, personal shopper, “alarm clock”, time management director, peace officer, very fair judge, teacher, advisor, sound (volume) control department, impartial referee, “upright” instructor (both to our physical being and our mental being), bicycle instructor, driver’s training, homework advisor (ne’er giving answer - but assisting in guiding to answer), ‘probation’ officer, climate control, Rand McNally Chief, appointment reminder, moralist, the list could continue into infinity.

This message will self destruct in two minutes. (We men/Dads would be very, very, very lost if it were not for moms. You are the GPS to our existence. You are so, so much more than ‘a person having a baby’. Moms rule, dads drool... Self destructing now, Happy Mother’s Day to all moms.) Love, Victurd.

As tears go by.....

2011-05-07T10:44:00.000-07:00

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch
As tears go by

McDonalds, 6:15am.. Miraculously beautiful rainbow cast over the sky.. “The usual” (they don’t even ask any longer, they just ring it in).. short hop to City Park, Liberty, MO - KC Star in hand. I “grew up” here. Played there, worked there, STILL play there. Young punks, obviously first year of baseball, scatter excitedly from their cars to the ballfield. Smiling faces - but not for me… It’s all good.

Article about young phenom just called up to the Royals. Cause for “back in the day” optimism… In fact, mid-way thru the article he started talking about George Brett/Frank White stories - and there I sat, full cycle. Little kids baseball, the good days of the Royals, the (someday) finalization of an old fart’s dream to continue “being a kid.” I actually did kinda tear up.

My riches can't buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch
As tears go by

I somewhat jest in saying “I might have Parkinson's.” Jest in that there are no signs.. Ok, one sign.. My father had Parkinson's.. A natural ‘progression’ of Parkinson's is to tear up, well up, be fairly emotional upon little things - or things that yank at yesteryear. Dad demonstrated this often. All those years - not necessarily “pent up”, but not formally allowed to show, be exhibited. I hated the bastard Parkinson's, but I loved knowing “he felt.” As tears go by doesn’t necessarily have to be a very sad thing. Tears of joy, tears from yesterday’s events - tears simply for ‘feel.’

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doin' things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch
As tears go by

The day after JFK died.. September 12, 2001. Aside from today, the only other two days I can recall that this stupid sport’s enthusiast read the front section of the Kansas City Star before burying his head in the sport’s section.

Josh Langton. Article, front page. Josh is a stepson to my ex. Her husband Mike’s child. In March, he had his car on a hoist - was welding, spark caught the gas tank on fire - explosion jolted him to the ground… burns to over 90% of his body. His father got a blanket and rolled him on the ground - otherwise, he might not even be here today (and sadly, it's still touch and go.)

Article addressed his spunk.. His ‘never having the fear to back down” (stand up for his principles..).. Desert Storm participant. And the induced coma he was initially placed in so the pain would hopefully lessen, and while skin grafts were taken. The family talks to him daily.. One day.. Pleading “please Josh, you can’t leave me”.. and a tear welled up on his eye. That’s feel. Wow..

More from the Star article: On Wednesday night, Battagliola (Josh’s mom) stood terrified at her son’s side. Asleep, Josh looked lifeless. “I need to see some life or something,” she told the nurse. “I need for him to know how much I love him.”
He just needs sleep, the nurse explained, before approaching the bed. “Josh?” the nurse said. “Josh? Your mom’s here.” His heavy eyes opened. His voice was barely audible.
“I love you, Mom,” he managed. She kissed his forehead and cried.
“Just go back to sleep, sweetheart,” she said, and took a seat at his side.

Youth. Baseball. Old age. Parkinsons. Horror. It is the evening of the day.. I sit and watch.. As tears go by..

I'm unique, just like you.....

2011-05-05T16:48:00.000-07:00

(You wanna impress me.. say “UNIQUE NEW YORK”... 3 times.. REAL FAST!)

Hi, and welcome to weirdom. The place where nonsensical is vogue – and altering Dr. Emmitt Brown's take just a tad “Rules?.. Rules? Where we're going we don't need rules!”

The great thing abouta blog. No teacher with red marker.. u can turn spellcheck off.. u can write like people talk... woulda... coulda.. shoulda.. and no one gives a rats!

Robert Pershing Wadlow was unique. Tallest man EVER. Had hypertrophy of his pituitary gland resulting in abnormally high level of human growth hormone. Get this.. .8'11.1”.......... That's unique.

Can u guess why this guy is unique? Adolph Blaine Charles David Earl Frederick Gerald Hubert Irvin John Kenneth Lloyd Martin Nero
Oliver Paul Quincy Randolph Sherman Thomas Uncas Victor William Xerxes Yancy Zeus Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenbergerdorff. Uh huh, figured you could.

Unique jobs? Lifeguard at nude beach. Jelly donut filler. Ahm, Jaime Rascone. Go ahead, Google him. He works quality control in a brothel in Santiago, Chili. After candidates are screened (interviews, psychological testing, photo session) – whittled down to six. Jaime then “interviews” the candidates, taking diligent notes and makes recommendations to the madam. This job strain makes it so he can only do this once a month, or, 70 gals per year. That's pretty damn unique, and I hate his guts.

Unique: Antarctica is the only continent without reptiles or snakes.

Libra, the Scales, is the only inanimate symbol in the zodiac.

Ohio's flag is a pennant. (The other 49 are rectangular)

The only letter that doesn't appear in any of the 50 states? Q.

The only animal who's evidence is admissible in American Court? The bloodhound.

We're all unique. Moles. Tats. Size. Shape. Skin color. Hair color. Eyes. Dimples. Wrinkles. Demeanor. Walk. Introvert-extrovert-mediumvert.

“One of a kind”.. we've all known someone like that. Sometimes we love 'em, sometimes we wish they'd get locked up and lose the key. Oft times we deduce to “well.. that's just (insert name here)”...

People are unique (There are more chickens in the world than people)...

Winston Churchill was born in the ladies room during a dance. You can't sneeze with your eyes open. Stewardesses is the longest word typed with your left hand.

Unique. Only four words end in 'dous'...... tremendous, horrendous, stupendous and harardous. Decka cards, only the king of hearts ain't gotta moustache.

Fill her up: A Boeing 747 holds 57,285 gallons of fuel. Most lipstick contains fish scales. HA! I didn't make it up! First bar code? Wrigley's gum. Cat urine glows under a black-light (don't ask how I know this.)

Thomas Edison, lightbulb inventor, was afraid of the dark.

Are you a unique pooper? The average American uses 57 sheets of TP per day. Slugs have 4 noses. There are more plastic flamingos in the US than real ones.

Fingerprints are unique. Know what? So are tongue prints! Poor Charles Osborne was unique.. he had the hiccups for 69 years!

I'm uniqued out. We're all weird, different, the-one-and-only.. we only see from one pair of shoes.. we are in charge of our direction, our speech, our thoughts, our ways, our beliefs.. For the most part, we mingle perty peacefully together.

I'm unique, just like you.. .Love, Victurd.

Green eggs and ham......

2011-05-01T10:43:00.000-07:00

Oh Dr. Suess... ya gotta love Dr. Suess... (Well, ya ain't gotta, but I do)...

Of course – sure, The Cat in the Hat... Green eggs and ham.. One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.. How the Grinch Stole Christmas...

But too... his quotes...

Was looking thru female profiles on this online dating site..(YOU VICTOR? SURELY NOT?... yeah... sorry... habit).. and one gal had one that really struck home with me:

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”

I LOVE THIS! Whilst I honestly abhor incessant talkers – I view writing/reading differently. I'll write what I want, when I want – ya ain't gotta read it. But.. with incessant speech, you're trapped, PATOOEY, fingernails on the chalkboard to my ears!

“Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” Are you kidding me? A CHILDREN'S BOOK WRITER? FARM OUT.

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” I think I remember this feeling, and I think I really liked it, and I think he, this children's book writer, is “write” on.

“Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.” Ok, mebbe kid-talk kinda-sorta, but... OUTLOOK too. Chin up, had/have fun... s'more is comin'...

“A person's a person, no matter how small.” Me thinks he doesn't exclusively mean kiddos here... Ride on Doc – thanks, and we will value everyone...

“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try.” ie, “ya got it inya – don't think you don't.”

“If you never did you should. These things are fun and fun is good.” So very basic. Live a little. “Shouldn't” shouldn't be in your vocabulary. Oops. Venture. Go. Live. (And remember, this guy wrote kid's books!)

“All alone! Whether you like it or not, alone is something you'll be quite a lot!” Amen Brother Ben. Didn't teach nifty stuff like this in school. Never imagined it could be true. To that, he adds:

“You are you. Now, isn't that pleasant?” I guess he means “like ourselves.” Heavy, and sometimes can be hard – but also so very true – we should like ourselves and lighten the load we place upon ourselves.

“From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere.” Sure, goofy – colored pics in a book with stories... But me thinky he say “look... have fun... enjoy... lighten up... laugh... enjoy... smile...allow humor to sneak into your world!”

“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells.” YEP. This one has ME written allover it. Some dislike, and that's ok, scroll to first quote!

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own, and you know what you know. And you are the guy who'll decide where to go.” Not only for the young, but for the meek, the timid, for us all...

And finally, about finding fun from here to there, there to here: “If I were invited to a dinner party with my characters, I wouldn't show up!”

Dr. Suess – even though you're no longer among the living, you will live forever. Thanks for being so much more than “just a children's book writer.” We've all learned from you. Love, Victurd

The girl with three boobs... Huh?

2011-04-30T07:34:00.000-07:00

Yep, right there in black and white (and green)...

Hearda 'rumor' once – twas a company that lined all the folks up outside for a company anniversary... snapped a pic.... oh, 60+ or so folks...

A bit later... there was a separation between one employee and the company.

Few weeks later, the day the nifty 2 foot by 4 foot photo arrived, was affixed to the wall – it was discovered this former employee was photo-shopped outta the picture. Well, the feet were still there.. so.. let's guess 64 people, 65 pairs of feet.

Where this person was photo-shopped out – they “borrowed” the right boob and the right shoulder of another person in the pic (oh, maybe ten or so folks over, down on the front row) – and re-affixed this boob/shoulder to the head of another person – somewheres close to where the former employees torso was on the second row.

So..... person in front row, 'bout the 9th over.. very clearly – two boobs (and a nifty necklace).. and.. her shoulder, right boob, nifty necklace also on row two, about 18 or 19 folks over. Clearly, the girl with three boobs in the pic.

Titillating story, eh? Love, Victurd

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

2011-04-30T06:10:00.000-07:00

Caught in a landslide, No escape from reality
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me

Twas an English day yesterday. Pomp and circumstance. Real life, but fantasy as well.

Dreams. Oft times I have dreams, or at least I think they are – and I awaken asking “Was that real?”.... Some scary, some fun.. some bizarre.. harmless, except for that very first moment you question the reality.

Mama, just killed a man, Put a gun against his head
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead
Mama, life had just begun
But now I've gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooh, Didn't mean to make you cry
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

Freddie Mercury never disclosed the meaning behind his lyrics. Wiki.. Wiki knows everything yeah? Wiki surmises: fairly self-explanatory with just a bit of nonsense in the middle... to: mebbe about a young man who has accidentally killed someone, sold soul to the devil – asks for redemption.

Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time
Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooh, I don't want to die
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all

That last line. I think we've all been there. Times get tough, run, hide, get the hell outta here. “Would be easier if I never happened.” Scaramouche – life is good.

I see a little silhouetto of a man
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me
(Galileo.) Galileo. (Galileo.) Galileo, Galileo figaro
Magnifico. I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me
He's just a poor boy from a poor family
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go. (Let me go.) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
(Oh mama mia, mama mia.) Mama mia, let me go
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me

Someone once said Mercury related to them the song was basically “random rhyming nonsense” and that last stanza kinda speaks to that. Hell, spellcheck underlined halfa that whole paragraph.

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

Song came out in 1975.. #1 on the charts for long, long time. After Mercury's death in 1991, song resurfaced again at #1 on the pop charts. Is the UK's 3rd best selling single of all-time, and me thinks I've heard of a band or two from the UK! (I know.. you can't always get what you want, but, help I need somebody.. to remind me those other bands names.) I, personally, am proud to have been viewer #14,833,872 on youtube.

Nothing really matters, Anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me

Oh contrare, me thinks just the opposite. Song has passion, feel, fun, sadness, fast, slow, whimsical, serious... does matter.

Any way the wind blows

We miss you Mr. Mercury but thankfully we've got your music to remember you by. Pomp and circumstance – the wind still blows.

The Elementary School Sign... Monthly Character trait...

2011-04-28T20:00:00.000-07:00

I live a block anda half from a snotnose (said lovingly) local Elementary school... On their bulletin board out front – for young'ns to see as mom or dad drops them off, or as they hop off the yellow bus: THIS MONTH'S CHARACTER TRAIT.

Cool, and good idea. And I'm certain the teachers are encouraged to prepare/include/guide kiddos, incorporating this trait into their lesson plans...

First one I saw: Trustworthiness... (Editor's note.. Use caution when marrying a Catholic gal, I don't think they do these character trait monthly thingys @ Catholic Grade Schools.) A good plan to attempt to teach this, but who knows the internal fortitude of another. That, or hell, they ain't paying attention.. or... the noise from Johnny sharpening his pencil for the 7th time this day wipes out all possible learning. A difficult character trait to ascertain, learn, absorb, deomonstrate - thus, divorces, lies, deceit will happen,10, fitteen, 25, 30, 40 years down the road.

Second: Responsibility.. Well sure.. Mom/dad, for the earliest part of one's life, do for you.. As one ages, more and more, tasks, chores, cleanliness, doing for self.. No, this ain't “look at me mom, I can swing all by myself”... it's more.. helping mom set table.. helping pa raking.. assisting in loading groceries in the car.. Changing the diaper of younger sister Thumbelina.

Honesty... Scroll to Trustworthiness... Same diff.. The dog ate my homework.. I didn't shoot no rubber band at Frankie (Timmy, two negatives make a positive, albeit negative)... You can try, but there's no way in hell to ingrain honesty into someone for life. My take, doesn't have to be yours.

Courage.. Oh, likes this one. Different things worry us all in mustering up the courage to do. Sure, speaking in front of class.. for others, could be PE class.. getting on/off school bus.. the inability (or want not to say infronta others) “I don't understand this (whatever subject one is studying).”

Respect... Tell 'em Aretha.. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.. find out what it means to me.. Oh (sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me) A little respect (sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me) Whoa, babe (just a little bit)

Kindness.. Another good one.. You can try.. You can 'laud' when you see it happening.. but then again.. there are just some snotnoses that are cutout for nothing more than taking your bills at the drive thru, them handing you the food, you smiling, saying “THANK YOU”.. and they just hand the money back, no facial expression, no, “you're welcome”.. This trait escapes a certain percent, and it's seemingly a lifelong defect. Most are very good, some go hella aggravatingly overboard – but again, some just “don't get it.”

I got SOOOO perked tonight as I drove home and read...”This month's character trait” SENSE OF HUMOR............. NO WAY! Please tell me you're jesting?!!! I LOVE it!.. We've advanced, awakened...

Back in my day... “Sullen” was vogue in the classroom. You didn't dare have fun. Most teachers in my era had no resemblance of anything even close to I Dream of Jeannie..(Close your ears).. most, very homely.. and if you did anything to cross them, their glare/stare “cut like a knife.” If one persisted, to the office you went where the bespectacled principal awaited holding a very thick yardstick awaiting introduction to the hiney of your patched up Wranglers.

HUMOR? IN SCHOOL? Farm out America, we're waking up. YES (provided you don't go overboard, lose respect..) it's ok to laugh at/with another. IT'S OK (provided you got the courage to recover from) laugh at one's self. Laughter is an emotional balancing mechanism. Today, thankfully, it's considered a visual expression of happiness – or an inward feeling of joy.

A joke. Being tickled (within reason).. a very pleasant sensation.

Funny, how we develop (or don't) character traits over the years. Sure, schools help.. but so do parents.. friends.. later: coworkers, bosses..

That about wraps it up. Sorry there ain't no ending humor. (Imagine those teachers sitting at home, lesson planning.. “now just howinthehell am I gonna mix humor into tomorrow's work?”.. I love that they have that task.. .that our school district understands the importance of laughter.)

Happy weekend... and I hope it entails some humor... love, Victurd.

Whaddever floats your boat...

2011-04-26T18:26:00.000-07:00

As a young turd (or young Victurd) we had a lot at the Lake of the Ozarks... as well as a steel/metal cabin-cruiser that we'd annually haul to and fro. Onea my jobs as a snotnose child, was to bail the rain water from our boat during non usage times.. Didn't mind it a'tall... Was a decent trade off for the fun we had during the season..

Aside from my father singing Mac the Knife in the kitchen as he cooked – the next happiest I saw him was at the jerry-rigged controls of the old steel hull boat, pipe in mouth, shades on, shorts pulled up way too high... Pardon the pun, this floated his boat...

Your boat? What floats it? A friend.. baking.. breads more specifically.. attended a long training/educational/cooking session in GERMANY.. way cool.. God Bless that she got to do that.. floats her boat..

With the exception of mebbe athletics, and probably two specifically (baseball/basketball) I ain't real sure anything else on planet floats my boat. (Victor, you LIVE on the internet, the HELL you talking about.) Oh yeah, I do like the internet, sorry. I still play softball kinda- sorta (catch slowpitch every 3rd inning, bat 2 times a game.. pinch-runner on the rare case I somehow get on base.. HEY, I'm old!.. Basketball, signed up for our company's Corporate Challenge basketball team, challenge being the key word.

I love, respect, admire folks in their whatever “floats your boat” thingy.. motorcycles, fishing, hunting, Farmville, sewing, cooking, birds, the yard, helping people, going to bed late, getting up early, Vodka, beer, God, fashion, Sarah Jessica Parker (Sorry, I just threw that in, no particular reason), music, photography, yada yada yada your yada float your boat.

On second thought... women float my boat. I am so, so in love with, enamoured by, 'the female', it ain't funny. We, men, we 'spew'. Words roll from brain to tongue, out 'tween the lips in a millisecond. Many times haphazardly. Women on the other hand, it's like they'd stayed up the night before studying about it.. and the words roll so fluently outta their mouth... Harmoniously.. . really does float my boat.. verbiage with thought behind it..

Women are... much prettier to look at.. much more fun to look at... Much more (I can see his brain, and hell yes, we ALL know what he's thinking) “I have no idea whatinthehell she's thinking”...

We men fart, grunt, hike a leg, clear a room, ROAR, flex our buttocks so 'they'll' “enjoy” an extended 'passage'......... women... toot. And very unceremoniously..

Men. We have one track mind. Women. They juggle: how much gas is in car, exactly where the bank balance is now, what to get Aunt Freda for her BD next month, that I've properly recorded the movie coming in Disney tonight at 9p, are the frozen goodies for dinner tonight set out?.. on the backa the bank balance thingy is a list of goodies we needta grab from the store on the way home. We. We men. We have a one track mind. Sorry, but we don't thinka much in that all-thinking female drive.. and then, we stare at her derriere as she walks into the Piggly Wiggly to get the things on her list.

The other day.. I was out on break.. Myself and six women. (It's a rough job, but someone has to do it.).. Four of the six were talking simultaneously... not being a shop teacher, this enabled me to use all my pinkies to figure that out mathematically.. Only during odd years (this being 2011) am I a relative smartass.. As the four continued.. I said aloud “if there are 7 people, and 4 of them are talking, whointhehell is listening?”

Sorry... Women do float my boat. So much more nowadays than basketball, baseball...... Women rock.. but please don't let that go to your head. Love, Victurd

Isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

2011-04-24T11:17:00.000-07:00

I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me...
She showed me her room, isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair.

I sat on a rug, biding my time, drinking her wine.
We talked until two and then she said, "It's time for bed"

She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh.
I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath

And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown
So I lit a fire, isn't it good, Norwegian wood.

Who knows whatinthehell this song is about. Stealing opines from another site:

“There is NO wood in the room, that is why he sat on the floor...get it. there is a old line about there are no trees in Norway, so when someone says that their decor is "Norwegian wood" it means they have NO furniture, get it...”

Another's take:

“This song is about a girl.. that said.. when the Beatles were introduced to marijuana by Bob Dylan.. it definitely influenced/changed the style/sound of their music... and Norweigian wood was code for marijuana.”

Still another, Paul himself:

McCartney said the final line of the song indicates that the singer burned the home of the girl:

Peter Asher [brother of McCartney's then-girlfriend Jane Asher] had his room done out in wood, a lot of people were decorating their places in wood. Norwegian wood. It was pine, really, cheap pine. But it's not as good a title, "Cheap Pine", baby. So it was a little parody really on those kind of girls who when you'd go to their flat there would be a lot of Norwegian wood. It was completely imaginary from my point of view but in John's it was based on an affair he had. This wasn't the decor of someone's house, we made that up. So she makes him sleep in the bath and then finally in the last verse I had this idea to set the Norwegian wood on fire as revenge, so we did it very tongue in cheek. She led him on, then said, "You'd better sleep in the bath." In our world the guy had to have some sort of revenge ... so it meant I burned the f-ing place down …

This guy's take:

“John Lennon is a very good musician and this song proves it.This is also really good because it's one of his first full story songs.This is about a boy who goes to a girls house,he wants to (you know) and she doesn't want to so she lets him go sleep on his own then when he wakes up she's gone he's mad so he burns her house.IT'S COMMON SENSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!JUST LISTEN TO THE LYRICS!!!Anyway great song!”

Finally..

“You guys are all stupid, listen to the song, interpret it how you will, but don't debate about it. This is almost as stupid as arguing religion, or politics... Nobody wins, but everybody thinks they're right.”

My own simple take (Victor, you made us read this whole GD [gosh darn] thing just to get to here?... yes, sorry).. “I only wish first dates with whatshername #1 and whatshername #2 woulda ended like this.”

Isn't it good, Norwegian wood? Love, Victurd

I grew up fortunate.

2011-04-23T08:59:00.000-07:00

No, no no. Not what you're thinking. Very middle class, maybe even lower middle class. Son of two out-of-the home working parents.

Fortunate for many reasons. Wasn't a household of yelling-screaming, perhaps why yelling-screaming bugs me so much today. Folks took turns cooking - funny, dad always sang as he did.

Town I grew up in. Safe, very. Could walk anywhere, folks knew you were ok. Word spread fast amongst parents – so, if you did get outta line, twasn't a secret long.

My favorite electrical gadget in that day was my clock radio. Fell asleep many a night to the voice of Harry Carey/Cardinal's baseball. Somehow, I lived thru it, being my only/favorite electric gadget.

The yard. Fun. Neighbor kids. Games, aplenty. Day and night. Parents took turns for Kool-aid breaks. Always hit the spot.

Folks weren't into “do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign.”.. Moreso, “so how do you feel about this”, “if this happened, what would you think?”.. Without even knowing so, they 'pointed me' in the right direction.

Dribbled my basketball to the Catholic grade school, where buddies (of all colors) gathered to play. We got along very peacefully – twas prior to the high five becoming vogue – but I do remember we always shook hands prior to dribbling back home.

Holes in the knees of my jeans were patched... tears in my shirt from 'thorn trees' were sewn – yet neither led me to a shrink.

Going to granny's was awesome, and I thought the pallet on the floor was 'special', just for me. Aunts/uncles/cousins – a wonderful bond.

Roof over my head, food in the fridge, being loved – things a freckled faced redheaded kid once kinda took for granted – so very appreciated today. Many would settle for just one of those.

No, as the years have progressed, the painting hasn't always looked as I've desired.. but back in the day – my parents allowed me to paint my own values, form my own beliefs – and they were absolutely awesome role models to boot.

Not being 'perfect' was ok. Understood, actually. Folks always my/my sister's biggest backers no matter the outcome of the endeavor we tried.

I was, am – very fortunate. Thanks mom and dad. Love, Victurd.

Today is a gift, tomorrow is a blessing...

2011-04-22T17:37:00.001-07:00

Alarm goes off... first thing thru brain “DO I HAVETA?”... (for the 427th time, I write to me, hitchhikers welcome) No, I getta get up..

I bathe my bod, I find clean clothes, I roll. I pull into gas station, feller with funny accent, vely nice. Greets me so well. Thankful, and I appreciate that.
Large coffee, bagga Planters Salted peanuts, today's newspaper.

Funny – not so much, daily, the paper relates 3, count 'em 3 pages of folks that were here the day before, but they ain't now. It saddens me to read the obits, and probably gruesome that I do - but I don't ever wanna face the embarrassment of “so how's ole so-and-so” and learn of the demise.. .so yes, I read the obits..

The Dish tonight for three. NO VICTOR, surely NOT YOU?.. yeah me. Buddy'a mine, just returned from one year of service around Somalia. After a one hour discussion with him – I learned: African folks are some of the nicest folks there are. “They've had nothing, they're used to nothing.. anything we can give them, help them with, they're SO appreciative.”

I also learned their average life expectancy is around 49 years.

So.......... compare alla the above to: I gots no woman. My car has (close your ears) 235,000 miles on it.. My roof leaks.. I owe more on my house than it's worth.. I did the elliptical for 30 minutes two days ago, and my calf muscles and I are no longer on speaking terms.

Minor.

Like: “Get over it.” Life is different in that how it awakens you. Perspective looms large. Thankfulness varies soooooooooo much.

An early Happy Easter to each... let the woes go, and count your blessings, take pictures with your eyes... and please choose smile over frown. Lord knows I try to.. .sometimes I fail, but I try. (I do whistle quite nicely though thankyouverymuch)...

Hoppy Easturd, love Victurd.

The beat goes on....

2011-04-18T18:35:00.000-07:00

The beat goes on
The beat goes on

Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da

Seems, the more things change, the more they stay the same. (Uh-huh)

When you have reached the age Uh-huh
History has turned the page Uh-huh
The mini-skirt's the current thing Uh-huh
Teeny bopper is our new born king Uh-huh

And the beat goes on
The beat goes on

Whaddever the current rage is.. The Motorola Atrix 4G.. Multiplayer, Touchpad, hell I dunno

Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da

The grocery stores are super marts Uh-huh
Little girls will break their hearts Uh-huh
And men still keep on marching off to war
Electrically they keep their baseball score

Seems not much that has changed since Sonny wrote it,
Cher sung it in 1967.

Then... ya take a closer peek at 1967. The Doors first album. Aretha wails Respect... Ali refuses military service.. “We” protest Viet Nam.. Elvis/Priscilla marry.. First ATM debuts... Race riots dot the land.. Evil Knievel crashes in Vegas.. Born: Nicole Kidman, John Smoltz, Keith Urban, Jamie Foxx, Anna Nicole Smith, .. gone: Jack Ruby, Spencer Tracy, John Coltraine, Carl Sandburg, Basil Rathbone, Otis Redding,

And the beat goes on
The beat goes on

Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da

Then.. I reckon you take a closer look at price then... and kinda-sorta compare to wages/cost nowadays... New house: $24,600.. Movie ticket $1.20... Packa cigs 30 cents.. New car $2750...

Grandma's sitting chair's in reminisce
Boys keep chasing girls to get a kiss
The cars keep going faster all the time
Bum still cries, "Hey buddy have you got a dime?"

On this, I happen to love Yogi Berra's take.. God Bless Yogi, the beat goes on.. His quote “a nickel ain't worth a dime any more.”.. Boys do still chase women.. Grandparents, they are us... we do reminisce.. and why not.. 1967 was vogue/wonderful..

And the beat goes on
The beat goes on

Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da

As I drove around Liberty tonight.. I closed my eyes and wished “Geez, I wish for one day, ONE DAY, I could get behind the wheel and drive around 'back in 1967' (or whenever back then).. “Nuh uh! THAT's the Janicke's house.. that WILL ALWAYS be the Janicke's house.. Dave, Gary, Joann, Bill”... and it gets hazy as the years pass.. who lived where.. I would pay bunches, to return to 1967 for a trip around Liberty...

And the beat goes on (Yes the beat goes on)
And the beat goes on (And the beat goes on, on, on....)
The beat goes on
And the beat goes on

Life is really-sorta fantastic. The more stuff changes... towns, roads, who lives where - in what houses, populations, electronics, current rages, fashion trends, celebs, schools of thought, parenting, “childrening”, school, music, et al...

The more the beat goes on. Happy day, love Victurd.

Welcome to online dating........

2011-04-17T07:59:00.000-07:00

FOM THE CHICKS:

“and look younger than my age.” (Says who?!!!!)

“you will be an active lessoner.”

“I like quite walks”

“I love to express myself with are such as painting and scketching. Im ery family orented. I also know how to cook verywell so I can most deffently find a way to your heart thru your stomach.”

“I like to go shopping and hand out with my kids and grandkids.”

“IM A VERY LAYED BACK PERSON. IVE BEEN IN LONG TERM RELATIONSHIP IT DIDNT WORK OH WELL LIFE GOES ON HIS LOST.

“I have tryed to delete myself off here but it won't let me so I just won't give any information. Don't have nothing to say or tell. The only reason I am writing this... is because it woun't let me log out. I am traped in plenty of fish.”

“I handle affluent clients and love it, the harder the better.”

(Profession: Education) “My hoppies are reading, traveling and having fun when I can.”

(First Date) “we would go out to dinner and talk about a like and what we looking for in that person. If it gose will we would go for a walk holding hands and some more. Then we would go back to my place for drinks.”

“I want a serious person to connect with me not someone that wants just a hookup or sex because if thats all you want do not write me or email me (my screen name is adoreableaires35 on america online and adoreableaires36 on yahoo.)” I would like to be picked up and taken to dinner and a move, then come home and have a nice kiss good night and another call to be seen again no hookup on the first meeting. I want a serious relationship not no one night hookups.”

“I brake for sales walmart is my store if they don't have it then I probably don't need it.”

(“Online this week”.. “Seeking: Long Term) “I have a great story. I found a great man on this site its wonderful. Wish you the best of luck. It says I need to write more but I've really said all I need to say.”

“I try to see the good in everyone, and even if it isn't appearant, I'll look for it.”

“Good communicator.. not much to say will find out when i communicate with someone.”

“Seeking old rich men with bad hearts and no relatives.”

EQUAL RIGHTS: Some real ones from men.. (stolen, I stole 'em, but they're real!).... A given: All men are pigs!)

“My friends got me a sweater for my birthday last year. What I really wanted was a moaner or a screamer.”

“Bitter, disillusioned SM recently rejected by longtime fiancee seeks decent, reliable woman, if such a thing exists in this cruel world of hatched faced witches.”

“You can lead a horticulture but you can't make her think. Single male farmer looking to teach some cowgirl the ropes.”

“Frisky pup seeks some tail. Tired of going in circles. Lets catchup sometime – you can lead the way.”

“Seeking female companionship due to carpal tunnel syndrome.”

“Wanted: Meaningful overnight relationship.”

“Wanted: Double jointed supermodel who owns her own microbrewery and grows her own weed. If you have a twin you will get extra points.”

Happy day, Victurd.

You have the right to remain verbal – anything you say can and will be used against you......

2011-04-16T11:36:00.000-07:00

Nuances.. you got 'em? Man, I do. Just now, was playing Solitaire.. it's where you drag a card with the mouse – to put it in another pile.. you know, like black 7 on red 8. Sometimes, I slip, leggo.. or... my old eyes occasionally slip and place a like color on a like color. BEFORE I CAN EVEN BLINK, this GD (gosh darn) rule pops up, telling me what I've done wrong. CURSOR CURSES! I hate it! (Oh, and have known a few people as quick as that to point out “ahm, no.. you can't... you're not supposed to....”make sure you”... I say: ”Before you start pointing fingers, make sure YOUR DAMN hands are clean”...Music (sweet music) to my ears.

At work. A one page thingy you MUST sign, turn into HR in a lickety-split-moment, relating you've read the 36 pages of “do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign.” YICK, BARF, UPCHUCK. Sad that crap has come to that today. Reckon it's our litigious society that's responsible. You have the right to remain silent...

S'more crap that gets my goat. Those “up here” looking down on those “down there.” PATOOEY! One time, no not band camp, I was working for a El Biggo Commercial Airline. I was at gate checking in folks. Up walked famous actress and her manager. Won't disclose who it was, but will let you know I loved Lucy. As I looked this famous actress in the eye and asked her for her seating preference, she looked at me.. paused... then turned her head over her shoulder toward her manager, so he could answer my pittance of a question. YICK, BARF, UPCHUCK!

4-way stops. The little bastards that sneak RIGHT BEHIND THE CAR that was infronta them!... The dreaded torture Ray Kroc created when he moved the drive thru from one to two lanes. YOU LITTLE BASTARD! IT WAS MY TURN! I ORDERED MY HAPPY MEAL A FULL TWELVE SECONDS BEFORE YOU WERE DONE!

A fire about this high.

A bartender who looks you in the eyes insteada the threshold of the bar. Your clear glass has been empty for 11 minutes. Up she walks, beams that googly, overly-pretentious smile Kelly Bundy-style at you, and spouts (with full uppers and lowers exposed) “Are you doing ok?”.. Yes, I'm doing fine, thanks. I just come here to sit and stare.

The IRS. The companies that add “by paying your bill online, you will be assessed an additional $10.” Ya little creeps, there was no labor involved. WHY?

Moms and dads who yank their kids.

People at work (or wherever) who incessantly “dog” (verbally) the same person, day in/day out. MY TUMMY HURTS – STOP!!!!.. Why, once at a job where I worked, there was even a Supervisor who did it of someone in his/her own department. (Scroll up to dirty hands).. EEEESHHH...

People who blog on and on and on. Oh, sorry, I get the drift. Leaving soon.

Old guys that continue playing slow pitch softball well beyond their years. ALRIGHT ALREADY DAMNIT! I'm outta here.. Thanks for allowing me to get this off my chest. Beloved relatives, close this window here/now.

For those still here: I know, I know. I need to get laid. Love, Victurd.

I've finally found the key...

2011-04-16T08:15:00.000-07:00

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

Perfect!.. no eyes upon her (I've had two that seemingly enjoyed staring back... demonstrated so... and followed their stares!)...

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

A pretty woman makes her husband look small
And very often causes his downfall.
As soon as he marries her
Then she starts to do
The things that will break his heart.
But if you make an ugly woman your wife,
You'll be happy for the rest of your life,
An ugly woman cooks her meals on time,
She'll always give you peace of mind.

Si, I could stand a home cooked meal. Too many an hour spent in Ronny Mac and Wendy's 'kitchen'... And, definitely know the low feeling of “feeling small”

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

Don't let your friends say
You have no taste,
Go ahead and marry anyway,
Though her face is ugly,
Her eyes don't match,
Take it from me she's a better catch.

Again, PERFECT!.. no eyes upon her... and even though her eyes may not match, at least they'll both be on you! Gives a whole new, refreshing meaning to “wandering eye”!!!

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

(Hey... doesn't this beat the hell outta “Pretty woman... don't walk away.”.. I wish I woulda thought of this 35 years ago)

Say man.
Hey baby.
I saw your wife the other day.
Yeah?
Yeah, she's ugly.
Yeah, she's ugly but she sure can cook.
Yeah?. Okay.

Hmmmmmm.. deep fried chicken.. biscuits and gravy.. cinnamon rolls... Honey? Can you fetch me anudder cuppa coffee?

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

Ok, so, if you know someone ugly, available and willing.. and they wanna get married...have 'em hit me up! Love, Victurd

All I can handle....

2011-04-12T17:41:00.000-07:00

We've all been there. We've thrown pity parties, we've consternated “why me?”. We've all clammed up, screamed, pulled hair, taken DEEP gulps, looked in mirror... asked self... er... told self... “I don't think I can handle any more”...

Victor, ain't this about where you write that you write to yourself, for yourself, but hitchhikers are welcome? Nah, let's do that later.

Actually, life has been rolling along fairly decently. Work is very good. Good times with buddies after work, sometimes too good. Family, no devistation that I'm aware of...

But then... we're all occasionally confronted with reality... could we paint the picture any brighter?... The lows... Do you have to make it so dreary?...

Then we look around at life, see stuff ongoing, and get pissed at ourselves for bemoaning.

I walk - ok. Friend just outta hospital, new knee. She's gonna be great – but how can I gripe about struggling sometimes to get outta car? Gotta go clear downstairs to get that document? Pah! Wakeup Victor.

Riding into work. I have a lovely bubble on my right front tire. Lovely bubble as in “any time.” My right rear tire needs it's (air) thirst quenched every other day. I am a HUGE lover of “Sports-talk” radio, but my GD (gosh darn) AM doesn't work in my checkenginelight vehicle. DAMNIT! WHY ME?

So... inbetween The Rolling Stones and Stevie Ray Vaughn on the drive in... it's “Military Monday” on my favorite FM rock station. YES, I still rock. NO, it's not a rocking chair – it's my station.... Every Monday morning, they give away a car to a vet. Way cool. The vet this week, just lost his job. He, wife, kids, living with his very, very old mother. To get groceries, using her car. On it's last leg. Needs more oil than gas, and in today's prices, that's hella a lot.

Oh, and his wife was just diagnosed with breast cancer. So, Victor? You're all bent outta shape about a bubble on your tire and that you can't listen to KCMO Sport's talk? Sorry. I hearya, and I apologize.

Pulling into the Piggly Wiggly. Observed two separate cars in Handicap spots. One, the door was open, but the lady was simply mustering up energy to stand, walk in. The other – the driver was simultaneously bracing himself against the car whilst he opened the trunk to pull out/put together his motorized cart.

I'm very sorry. I feel guilt. My life ain't so bad. If I said “I've had all I can handle” I apologize.

A halfa mile away after leaving the Piggly Wiggly – a man, probably late 70's, mebbe early 80's, carrying two VERY full bags from the Piggly Wiggly back to his home - EXTREME stuggle written allover his face – who knows how much further home was. I guessed he didn't have a car (or helpful relatives), and I absolutely know he was carrying “all he could handle.”

“Geez” I thought to myself, “I wonder how often he does this?”... and then, I tried putting on his shoes... He obviously had some money, he obviously was headed toward a home with a roof, refrigerator... what if he encountered a homeless person en route home? Would he still think “I've got all I can handle”?

Life lends us the occasional gutter ball. Yes, sometimes we miss that “gimme” 5-pin. Victor, for behoogity sakes, you even struck out (SWINGING) in slowpitch softball last year.

But, ya know what? None of us have “had all we can handle” yet. God Bless, happy day, love, Victurd.

You've got to pickup every stitch...

2011-04-08T20:02:00.000-07:00

Are you good at following directions? Can you pickup every stitch? Perty please then, open anudder window, copy the below... paste... THEN COME BACK HERE! (THANKS, loveya! <-- that's fancy for I haven't figured out how to add music to this crap yet)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5aPhGQ0L9Q

When I look out my window,
Many sights to see.
And when I look in my window,
So many different people to be
That it's strange, so strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Mm, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.

Interesting. Pick up every stitch - knitting term. Acid trip?.. Insane asylum? Who knows. Out the window.. MANY strange people... All walks...

Look IN my window.. Multiple personality disorder? The folks around.. co-workers, family, friends, whatever <-- “Witch,”certain somewhere in that grouping.

When I look over my shoulder,
What do you think I see ?
Some other cat looking over
His shoulder at me
And he's strange, sure he's strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.

Eerie. Ever sit at PC and you just KNOW/"FEEL" someone behind you? The spooky ones are the ones who don't interrupt you, let you keep on task, and again, you simply sense they are there...

Halloween maybe? Again, Wiki tells us probably psychedelic trip -and, for the 60's that probably fits...

The “every stitch” .., I'm guessing, means a persistent parent (thank God I wasn't raised by one of those).. perhaps a boss... a coach.. a teacher... an incessant 'friend'..

Looking “in” window... at ourselves.. Paranoia.. the different people within.. We're all different... if we all thought aloud – we'd probably either be fired, placed on probation, locked up – or, put in straight-jackets...

You've got to pick up every stitch,
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch.
When I look.

Donovan oh Donovan, what doest thou mean? Or, simply just rhyming? Please, do tell..
Hard to "pick up every stitch," but perhaps just your point...

When I look out my window,
What do you think I see ?
And when I look in my window,
So many different people to be
It's strange, sure it's strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.

Finished? Going?

When I go.. when I go....

Rabbits running in the ditch is a good thing, cause I don't like seein' em in the middle of the road.. Beatniks? Coffee house, acoustical guitars.. Been 40 years.. Closest thing today – mebbe those that congregate weathered at the intersections of Interstate connections by traffic lights... Saying/signifying “help” without formally doing so.

Looking out my window is different. Looking in, ditto. I'm (quite a bit) rebel, so the every stitch thing (Ordering, bossing) is like fingernails/chalkboard to me.

A brief respite here to say “who gives a damn about the lyrics, their meaning, just LISTEN, enjoy”... and I do.. hope u do too.

When I go, I normally say, Love, Victurd. Love Victurd..

Knock knock... it's Trooper....

2011-04-02T08:54:00.000-07:00

Raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell
Raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell
Raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell

This, in and of itself, can be fun. Drone, monotony, same ole same ole – PATOOEY! Gimme left field! Gimme Fun with a capital F (or is it capitol... or is that Jeff City... hell I dunno).. I love tease, laughter, seeing a smile come to another's face... and it's doubly-triply good if oneself has happened to have created it.

If you don't like
What you got
Why don't you change it
If your world is all screwed up
Rearrange it

Aha, this one's much more difficult. A batter with a 'hitch' in his swing... a jump-shooter with an elbow out... an old single fart who goes home, does the same ole thing night after night – and silently bemoans it. The married one who wallows day after day... Envisions change – either in themselves, their partner, situation – mebbe even their residence... Hard to raise a little hell, get off center here.

Raise a little Hell ...

If you don't like what you see
Why don't you fight it
If you know there's something wrong
Why don't you right it

Same thing Trooper. We're the same person as yesterday. The day gets/goes by, we awaken Tuesday, we're “Monday” allover again, no hell raised. Easy to fall into habit, repeat ourselves. Easy to fall into habit, repeat ourselves. (I wonder if Nuns have this habit?)

Raise a little Hell ...

In the end it comes down to your thinking
And there's really nobody to blame
When it feels like your ship is sinking
And you're too tired to play the game

Ship sinking? Mebbe not that dire? Yeah, hear ya.... more like treading water sometimes... does get to arms... body.. brain...

Nobody's going to help you
You've just got to stand up alone
And dig in your heels
And see how it feels
To raise a little Hell of your own

Oh come on Victor, git urass up... go to the gym... you pay $23 a month to drive by it every day, PULL IN next time. Yeah, mebbe. We'll see. Besides, I kinda enjoy that daily struggle with the jeans in “I'll BE DAMNED if I'm gonna buy size 38, NOPE, NOMME.. I'M a 36!"

Raise a little Hell ...

If you don't like
What you got
Why don't you change it
If your world is all screwed up
Rearrange it

Easier said than done Trooper. Seen others do it though. Fun coworker going to gym faithfully, down 19 lbs. Cool. She's raising a little hell and rearranging it. Seen late blooming relationships of divorced, wounded doves too – very happy ones.(Witness happy buddies Wendell/Jan for example).. Encouraging. Seen marriages on last leg – revitalized, renewed – two tango'ed, raised a little hell – their world was all screwed up – they rearranged it.

Raise a little Hell …

Thanks Trooper. I will. Maybe. Probably. We'll see. Tomorrow. Next week. In May. I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.

So Victor, you write to yourself.. By golly do you EVER READ? LISTEN?....

Eh, I'm going to the Dish... raise a little hell thataway.. Check back next Thursday, text me up, 867-5309. Raise a little hell, raise a little hell, raise a little hell... love, Victurd

Stuff I've observed about aging......

2011-03-30T18:19:00.000-07:00

Who are you, and whatinthehell do you want?.... Oh... sorry... remember now, I think I mighta invited you...

I've noticed, nowadays, I don't have to nod down near as far to see my belly.. and.. I was once 6' tall (am now not... 5'11”+ change)... but I SWEAR, when I go to tie my shoes, they HAVE to be farther away than they usedta be!

There are some things, that really usedta bug me, not-so-much any more... not being first in line.. not worrying about raising my hand to be the first to answer the question by the higher up/trainer/HR dude/whatever... favorite sport's teams results... driving 7 miles per hour under the speed limit... the rung on the corporate ladder I was on...

And too, some things that usedta roll off my back, that now cause consternation:
Loud people... tailgaters... occupational ass-kissers... a server whose eyes never focus lower than your eyes.. (all your “needs” are 20” below that), and with googly grin they say “Is there anything I can get you?”... Profanity in public. (YOU Victor?) Yes, me.

I look in the mirror, see me... rough.. .oh... rough... then, my eyes look outward, and what's appealing to me has absolutely zero correlation chronologically to what I've just peeked at in the mirror. (What's wrong with this Polaroid?) Oops.

There is NO ONE my friggin' age. When I look out: “Oh heck, he/she's much younger than me”... or.. “there's no way I'm as old as he/she”... There's no inbetween, my age. . The hell happened to people my age? (Or is it focus? Lack thereof... SURELY not denial?)... Insert Muttley's laugh here – the sidekick dog of Dick Dastardly

Running. Running usedta come easy. Down the basepaths.. To the Flanigan's house... Across the court... Down the sideline... Nowadays, when getting ready for a softball game, I visualize going 4 for 5... In actuality, I end up 1 for 4, and THANK GOD for the “Courtesy Runner”who comes to relieve me (Fancy for “This guy's an old fart, please get him off base before our league gets sued”) ... Today, running is pretty much exclusively relagated to: “To the squatter” by Willie Makeit...

Crying now doesn't always involve physical pain. It's precipitated by memories invoked of yesteryear... yester-people... touching stories seen/heard of folks you have no idea whointhehell they are.. mebbe even just a thought thru the brain, that simply trips that 'softy' spot.

I sit more. I eat less. I talk less. Type more. Hell I even text.

“Visits” back in the day, usedta involve dressing for whatever the weather was... making sure you had 'nuff petrol to get you there... sticking your finger in the “Sterling 1” holes of the tele... breaking in on their party line.. to see if “now is a good time to come visit”... Today, we visit instantaneously. If we getta email we don't necessarily wanna respond right away, we “save as new.” (They'll never know I've already read it.”)

Touch, back in the day, was just that. Now... it's an email... a forwarded email... a text.. a voicemail... There's no finding a pen, writing, signing, looking up street addy's, buying a stamp, licking, folding, affixing, walking to mailbox. Today's touch is instantaneous.

We've not come full cycle, 'cause, compare 2011 to 1991, then 1971, then 19-fitty-one... Change.. Aging brings change (Damnit)...

My eating habits ain't the best. Pass me some burnt ends, hell, I've made it this many years... Damn those Chili Cheese Fritos go PERFECT with the 85 cent rolla chocolate donuts in our machine.

Opinionated. Selective. I'll be damned if I will. You gotta be kidding me? No thanks, you go ahead. Sounds like fun, but I just ain't really up for it – thanks though.

Old age has this way of rearranging our priorities from “what am I supposed to do”.. to “what does he/she want me to do”.. to “what are my responsibilities to do”.. and... finally, we're back in 'babyland'.. “What DO I wanna do?”

Your thoughts on aging? Please know, if you stream me something, please turn that crap up 'cause I don't hear as good as I usedta. I've got the runs now. Oops. Typo. I've got to run now. Love, Victurd.

As tears go by…..

2011-03-29T05:34:00.000-07:00

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch
As tears go by

Ya know, if we didn’t have dark – the sun probably wouldn’t be as appreciated.
Hard to navigate in the dark – but dark happens.

My riches can't buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch
As tears go by

Words, the most wonderful invention ever. Also the cruelest.

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doin' things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch
As tears go by

Then again, we can have only one thought on our mind – why not make it a positive,
optimistic, happy thought? Brain housecleaning. Walk faster, stand taller. Victor? Yes? Whointhehell are you to attempt to shed light on dark? Blog questioner, remember, I write TO me – hitchhikers welcome.

Avoid the word “try”. Upbeat words insteada upset words. Steer clear of emotional vampires. (Stolen) Pursue what you love to do and it will light your fire. You know, kinda like writing for you Victor. Or, slow pitch softball – even if you did strike out swinging (THE mortal slow pitch sin) last summer. The “love” of the game includes the camaraderie, fellowship, wiseacres, laughing at one’s self. Yeah, light my fire.

Control. Remember control. There are generally six seats in a car, only one person controls the car. The others have no control over that – just as in life – we have no control over the thoughts, actions, behaviors of others. Light, dark. Dark, light. Hurt, sorrow, happiness, glee. It all happens.

Fight dark, shed light. Build others up – they deserve it. Might just lift you as well. Those words said, the hurtful, “scar-causing” ones – let ‘em go. Don’t “etch” forever. The next words you hear may be wonderful, perhaps the ones intended.

Runs. Hits. ERRORS. Happens. Light, dark. And... don't forget the "e". Huh? You mean like "SchultzE"? No, like by"e".. As tears go bye.

Still gotta find my baseball glove. Wonder if that Mace fellow still sews ‘em up? Happy week, time to get up for the game, love Victurd.

Spill the wine, dig that girl....

2011-03-26T08:44:00.000-07:00

I was once out strolling one very hot summer's day
When I thought I'd lay myself down to rest
In a big field of tall grass
I laid there in the sun and felt it caressing my face
As I fell asleep and dreamed
I dreamed I was in a Hollywood movie
And that I was the star of the movie
This really blew my mind
The fact that me an overfed long haired leaping gnome
Should be the star of a Hollywood movie, hmmm

What makes the world go round? Is it basically the sun's gravitational pull which rotates the Earth and other planets around it right?

Of course not. It's the enthrallment of men by women, and vice-versa. Oh, aware there are exceptions to the 'rule' – but it ain't the topic today.

Why? Attraction tis my estimate. Of course, the physical – but so, so much more. We, the mated, spend so many damn years trying to figure out our partner... subconsciously (perhaps, perhaps not) we spend eons of time attempting change, molding, “more to our liking”.. Usually ain't gonna happen.

Then... we “finally understand we ain't really ever gonna understand” - and I think that's “when the wine ferments”... But, unlike wine – that's the precise time you don't have to put a cork in it. Never perfect – but smooth. Same direction, occasional getting of the path – only to soon return.

But there I was
I was taken to a place
The hall of the mountain kings
I stood high by the mountain tops
Naked to the world
In front of
Every kind of girl
There was long one's, tall ones, short ones, brown ones,
Black ones, round ones, big ones, crazy ones
Out of the middle, came a lady
She whispered in my ear
Something crazy
She said.........

Victor, ye of two failed marriages, whatinthehell makes YOU the expert on this – your grape barely made it off the bush....

Aha, so very true.. you are correct.. I had one very nice seven year “wine sampling”.. .and anudder one, also nice, for 20 years... dipped my toes in the water long enough to know – it was/is enjoyable.. it's much better with two in a queen sized bed than one..

Spill the wine, take that pearl
Spill the wine, take that pearl
Spill the wine, take that pearl
Spill the wine, take that pearl

I learned that the making up was a hunnerd times more wunderful than the frustration of the argument. I learned to value and appreciate another's opinion... oft times agreeing, acknowledging “I was wrong”, yet too, having it be ok to say “I have a different opinion on that one” - and that was ok.

I thought to myself, what could that mean
Am I going crazy, or is this just a dream
Now wait a minute
I know I'm lying in a field of grass somewhere
So it's all in my head
And then I heard her say one more time

Spill the wine dig that girl
Spill the wine dig that girl
Spill the wine dig that girl
Spill the wine dig that girl

I could feel hot flames of fire roaring at my back
As she disappeared, but soon she returned
In her hand was a bottle of wine
In the other a glass
She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass
And raised it to her lips
And just before she drank it, she said

Please don't tell... I, quite frankly, LOVE women. I grew up in a family of “fun pranksters” - so that's what I know. Who I am, what I do. That said – there's just something different with how you deal, treat, admire, enjoy – the opposite sex... and I can't speak for women – but I would think this would have to be the case for the as well.

take the wine dig that girl
spill the wine, dig that girl
spill the wine, dig that girl
spill the wine, dig that girl
take that girl, yeah!
It's on girl, all you gotta do is spill that wine
spill that wine, let me feel, let me feel hot, yeah! yeah!
spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine,
spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine,
dig that girl!

Ours (marriage uno, marriage dos) consisted of a lot of nice bottles of wine. In each one, a last bottle was emptied – and it was forgotten to replentish the wine cabinet. Insteada going back to our own wine field to replentish - paths were taken to other wineries.

I VERY much still “believe”... love wine, women... “the dream”... Spill the wine, dig that girl. Love, Victurd.

I get knocked down...

2011-03-21T17:56:00.000-07:00

I really don't talk much, cept here. Much better at observing than opening mouth, inserting foot – but, certain I do that here upon frequent occasion, and yes, with keyboard (sorry). I peeked on the Internet for a song that speaks to up/down... this one came up. Words aren't perfect – but I REALLY like the “I get knocked down, but I get up again” refrain.

We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

Of observations in the real world, friends, relatives, neighbors, loved ones, on Facebook, – we all seemingly get knocked down – and seemingly with fairly frequent regularity.

Wishing the night away
Wishing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times:
"Oh Danny Boy
Danny Boy
Danny Boy..."
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

Emotions run the gamut... Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, and parts therein. Incense(d) and peppermint mighta worked, but don't think that was the gist of the song. I love (hate) those that are ALWAYS even keeled – as you just KNOW there's gotta be times their tummy is churning. Same, perhaps said for those who wear heart on sleeve – frequently addressing the ups/downs of their life.

Wishing the night away
Wishing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times:
"Don't cry for me
Next door neighbour..."

You witness, observe someone in “mid snap” and u really feel for them... Wish you could reach out from wherever you are, to wherever they are and give 'em a reassuring hug. Not always possible. What is possible, and generally probable, is that things will get better, situation will be righted, and all will be fairly AOK soon. We ALL get knocked down – some with more frequency, some more easily – some for only minutes – some, unfortunately, for much, much longer.

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing

So... the lyrics have ended, howthehell do we wrap this all up? I'm (what I say in my emails at work) “just the Line Haul Dummy” - but my take is.. .down happens... to us all..

I have no great answers.. other than “good generally follows”... Perhaps when down happens – we should strike out in the real world to see/find good.

I dropped my granddaughter's momma off at WalMart the other day.. stayed in car whilst she shopped for clothes/groceries.. As I observed folks parking, walking in, leaving, putting up carts, etc... I thought to myself “hummm.. mebbe blog material?” and I couldn't put it all together.

What I did note, after all the vehicles – ranging from $500 to $50,000 came went, the thin people, not so thin, in a hurry, leisurely, very old, very young, inbetween...

One thing stood out.. Ok, actually two.. An elderly couple, probably late 70's, holding hands as they made the trek from the Greeter to their car - the walk was an admited struggle, but they enjoyed it. Very cool. Certain, they'd gotten knocked down along the way, they were up again.

And... leaving WalMart... traversing Interstate from one side of our town to the other.. A young couple, backpacks, early 30's – most probably without home, a roof over their heads, holding hands as they walked across the bridge over Interstate. Many would call that “knocked down”... They seemingly viewed it as “I get up again.”.

Of course I abhor getting knocked down.......... who doesn't. Seeing those in much more difficult situations than I sheepishly “slaps me” to “I get up again”...

We all get knocked down, let's get up again. Love, Victurd.

“I cannot see

2011-03-20T08:42:00.000-07:00

I cannot pee
I cannot chew
I cannot screw
Oh my god, what can I do?

Ya gotta love Dr.Suess. To the point. Fun. Light. In a hurry to get perspective.

My memory shrinks
My hearing stinks
No sense of smell
I look like hell
My mood is bad – can you tell?

Sometimes this is 'the way' at age fitty-sixty-sumpin. Feeling better days, doing better days – perhaps in the rear view mirror. We've EARNED this right of bad mood - comewhatmay.

My body’s drooping
Have trouble pooping
The Golden Years
Have come at last
The Golden Years
Can Kiss my Ass”

But, whadda wonderful age for “just that.” Who cares? No more career paths.. Who gives a rats about midriff bulge – just get me to the squatter fast enough.. .. I am me and I like me, to hell with what you say/think. With my time I'll do what I want – you no likey? You're free to punt.

The Cat in the Hat is where it's at. Tis actually a wonderful stage of our lives. Reflections, and no, not the mirror kind.

We have yesterday to hold dear – and going forward knowing we'll probably forget all that crap – said lovingly.

The Golden Years
Have come at last....
We can do what we want.. say what we want.. go where we want.. when we want (or don't want).. I love the Golden Years, we're basically saying
(You) Can Kiss my Ass.” Love, Victurd.

This bud's for you........

2011-03-19T07:24:00.000-07:00

A fairly normal Saturday morning... Friday night - forgot to turn off alarm clock – beeped at 6a this morn... Slapped that basta, “eh, I'll roll back over, anudder hour”.. three minutes later.. cell phone alarm sounding.. Drats.. give in.. up, read email, check FB...

Mickey D's.. Sudoko (Saturday is the hardest).. all but a few numbers.. crossword puzzle a complete success (with one word that looked kinda funny, but it fit - who cares).. drive back home – outta car... walking in....

And there on the bush ordered from Michigan Bulb years ago – BUDS.. Ahhhhh the wonder of nature.. another Spring has arrived.. warmer days ahead... green grass growing... children out playing... baseball.. grilling out.. old man softball soon – better start the annual search for the ballglove soon... Thanks buds.. it's a pleasure and an honor to see you every year...

And, of course, the Bud from the song “This Bud's for you”... camaraderie.. fellowship – so to speak.. letting what hair we have left down... laughs, jokes, war stories, fun tears.. My beloved Grandfather was an AVID St. Louis Cardinal fan.. this 'bud' time of year he could be found on the front porch – transister in hand – Harry Caray, Stan the Man, Bob Gibson, Kenny Boyer, et al...

So, during this 'bud' time of year, Grandpa wouldn't forget what time the game was on any given day – jualah.. the St. Louis Cardinal's Baseball Calendar up on the living room wall.. Ownership/sponsorship, Anheiser.. On the right side of the month of games – you guessed it, a page long bottle of Bud. Not at granny's. Instead, articles by Billy Graham cut-out, affixed neatly over the Bud bottle. I love bud.

Best buds. We all got 'em. We try to lift them when they're down – and we get the same treatment in return. We share our word – as we know it will go no further.. we bounce ideas, thoughts, opines offa 'em – and we listen deeply to their replies, thoughts, opinions thereof – sometimes even causing us to alter our beliefs, thoughts. Thankful – I'm thankful for my buds....

Buds come in all ages, sexes, sizes... Coworkers.. Same-agers (grew up along side the 45, 33, 8 track, cassette, CD.. and whateverinthehell that blue ray thing is nowadays).. kid's friends.. parent's friends.. frat bros.. bud's a plenty, and thankfully so.

Buds bring, emit smiles. Buds are (is that Ok to say Engish teachers?).. Buds are familiarity. Fun. Like. 'Food' for emotional salvation. The end all, be all, do all.

I, for one, am thankful for buds. The Spring ones I've gotten to see now some 57 years.. the ones in my 'treasure chest' I've thankfully been able to befriend over the years... and hey, sure, even the liquid Buds.

When you say "Bud"
You've said a lot of things nobody else can say
When you say "Bud"
You've gone as far as you can go to get the very best
When you say "Bud"
You've said the word that means you like to do it all
When you say "Bud"
You've said it all.

This bud's for you – Happy Spring, fellowship - bottoms up. Love, Victurd

Please wait while you’re being redirected…….

2011-03-15T06:04:00.000-07:00

Story’a my life – and mebbe yours too eh? When one thinks of me, please don’t think of: an orderly desk at work that you could mebbe eat off of… a living room carpet that is perfectly, freshly vacuumed… socks, undies, yesterday’s outfit neatly tucked away in the hamper… a car with the shiny clean blackened sidewalls…. ne’er a crum on the floorboard. Quoting Sonny/Cher, it ain’t me babe.

So…….. I’m not an organized person. Oh hell yes my desk at work is a mess – but I know where every gosh darn thing is on toppa it. At home, my bills? Well, they’re placed wherever I was when I walked in from the mailbox that day.

Which all brings us to……. me logging in last night… and getting the message “Please wait while you’re being redirected”… Oh crap, I forgot to pay my internet provider (again.)…

Life is all about “Please wait while you’re being redirected”. Kiddygarten. WHAT? You mean I don’t get mom’s snacks whenever I wanna?... Junior High. I can’t sit in Mrs. Eldridge’s classroom all day? I was comfy!.. High School… bells.. bells to start class.. bells to end.. tardy bells.. “Please wait while you’re being redirected”.. Counselor’s office, college brochures, ‘the next step’…

College… ahhhhh wunnerful. Perhaps the very best six years of my life, and no, that’s not a typo. (Scroll to organization, lack thereof).. WHAT? I GOTTA GETTA JOB? “Please wait while you’re being redirected”…. WHAT? I GOTTA COME BACK HERE TOMORROW?........and the next day?

Marriage. “Please wait while you’re being redirected”.. Ah, a wunnerful six and one-half years… then.. “Victor, I know I/we said the vows and all.. and this ring with the little dangly rubies is REALLY cool.. but… u see, I’m attracted to others at work… and… “Please wait while you’re being redirected”…….

Loved the airline industry. Three different ones. I just picked a bad time to get in the field. United Airlines. “Well, you’ve had a nice three-plus years here, but we’re giving up on the Kansas City hub idea.. you can go to New York or Chicago ‘part-time’ if you like?.. “Please wait while you’re being redirected”.. Eastern Airlines.. 8+ years.. wunnerful. $12 first class, $6 coach – anywhere you’re heart desired.

Going to a softball tournament wasn’t like driving to Swope Park – nope, it was flying to Phoenix, or Clearwater, or San Diego. “Mr. Bryan??? (our Union Leader negotiating our contract”) ppppplllllleeeeeaaaaasssseeee remember that 80% of sumpin is better than a hunnerd % of nuttin!””.. Chapter 11, then 7.. “Please wait while you’re being redirected”

Braniff… Cargo Sales. Wunnerful. Again, free flights, all I did was go around and talk to customers – make sure their freight was moving smoothly. I loved it. Even arranged a golf tournament for them – prizes for them of “passes anywheres u wanna fly”.. Summoned on the 7th hole.. “Victor, they’re pulling the planes into Orlando… we’re going belly up”.. . “Please wait while you’re being redirected.”

Marriage number two. A long, very nice one of 20+ years.. . A blessed son, along with raising a wonderful stepson. Then, the stuff hit the fan. Then, one day.. “Well.. I love you both.” Oh my, I suppose that could be fun, but I ain’tno Charlie Sheen. Was never very good in the sandbox, thus, quoting Snagglepuss, “exit, stage left.” “Please wait while you’re being redirected.”

Victor, that’s all pretty depressing. OH NO.. I’ve had a truly blessed life. I couldn’t have painted a better family to grow up in… I have wonderful friends from all the various redirected stops along the way.. I loved each of my ex’s – and many, many a great hour, day, year, time....

The turbulence in my job history is ok too – cause I get restless. I’ve done nothing really extraordinary, but I’m lucky as hell to have done some of the things I’ve done occupationally… (and u got the short list, thankfully for you!)..

Life ain’t an Interstate. It’s a wonderfully curved, hilly road with breathtaking views along the way (and sure, an occasional pothole here and there).... It’s seeing a smile, and winging one back.. It’s getting old, and throwing that ‘love’ word out like you never did before to friends, coworkers… It’s seeing younger folks going thru the “Please wait while you’re being redirected” that you’ve visited – and winging admiration at how they handle..

It’s having a grandchild whose mom gets her snacks any time she wants. What a wonderful redirection she’s been in my life. Inasmuch as life is a cycle – and “Please wait while you’re being redirected”, redirection ain’t necessarily a bad thing. Many have had more tragic redirections – I’m lucky. I’ve been lucky. I am lucky. I love life, AND the redirection that comes along with it – even if it’s occasionally poopy.

My momma.. who grew up during the Great Depression – always wanted to write a book entitled “Po’, but didn’t know it.”.. That’s my second favorite quote from her. The fav? “The secret to success in life is how you deal with Plan B.”

Ain’t so sure how I’ve dealt with it, but I’ve truly enjoyed B, C, D, “Please wait while you’re being redirected”, E, F, G, H, I, “Please wait while you’re being redirected”, J, K, L, M, N, “Please wait while you’re being redirected”………. etcetera, etcetera.

As one who probably most of his life could stand ‘direction’, “Please wait while you’re being redirected” has actually kinda been a blessing. That was kinda boring Victor. I know.. sorry.. stuff about me ain’t so fun. I’ll redirect soon, and write about something/someone else. A promise. Love, Victurd.

M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

2011-03-14T05:18:00.000-07:00

What’s more dreadier I thee dub,
This day for you and me…..
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Hey there, Hi there, Ho there,
They’re as poopy as can be,
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Monday Sucks
Monday Sucks

Forever let us hold our covers
High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song
And join in on the plea
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Monday Sucks club,
It’s no fun,
Many more places,
Druther be BE BE BE!

We could do things and
we could go places
All around the world
We’d go marching..

Who’s the leader that did thee dub
Get up go to work for you and me,
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Hey there, Hi there, Ho there,
They’re as poopy as can be,
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Mondays Suck
Mondays Suck

Forever let us hold our covers
High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song
And join in on the plea
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Unless of course, you’re homeless.. and the days run together…

Or disabled… and you’d give anything to be able to work….

Or unemployed – the bills keep’a coming, the resumes keep’a going –
with nuttin’ to show…

Discharged, dismissed, fired, pink-slipped, downsized, rightsized, delayered, workforce reduction, workforce optimization, simplification, force shaping, recussion, attrition, mass layoff, under-employed… replaced..

Or, in a nursing home – mind vibrant, body spent…

Come to think of it… I’m lucky. Thanks for giving me another week – another day,
another commute. I’m lucky to have Mondays. I will never take them for granted or bemoan them again. M-O-N-D-A-Y’S ROCK… M-O-N-D-A-Y’S ROCK.. Love, Victurd.

Open mouth, insert keyboard, and conversation.

2011-03-12T10:29:00.000-08:00

Wouldn't it be wonderful, when conversing, to have a backspace key? Would wholly eliminate being able to “hear a pin drop”.. thinking to self “oh shit”.. Upsetting friends, others... And winging those words (or hearing those words) you'll remember for a lifetime.

Whatshername, God love her, once spouted “you write better than you talk.” Hehe. Ok, mebbe I do – but you think that doesn't figure in there somewhere when I have conversation with folks... it's like there's a little toll gate, or mebbe stop-sign somewheres 'tween the brain and the tongue – with a sign “BE CAREFUL VICTOR!”

If you had a keyboard in conversation, you could do neat crap like underline for emphasis. Change font to say (unsaid) “Damnit, are you listening to me?”

Or mebbe go from size 12 type, to size 20 in a millisecond. I know, I know, I know people too who are 'stuck' on size 20. So much to be learned from a booth at Mickey D's. Two ladies, a bit older than me. One of the ladies, participated (controlled, wouldn't let the other lady getta word in edgewise) and as they left I thought to myself “howinthehell did she eat, 'cause there were words coming out the entire time she was there?” I felt for that other lady. Wasn't 'permitted' to converse. Sometimes we just say dumb stuff, like:

"Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I'd love to be skinny like that but not with all those flies and death and stuff." -- Mariah Carey

Funny, we... or at least me.. am/are different dependent upon who's involved in the conversation. At work, I'm prolly a touch of the little ole lady at McDonalds, with a heaping portion of smartass thrown in. I enjoy pushing the envelope JUST to the point of getting called into the HR dude's office.

Large crowd, friends, and some who I might not know so well......... I clam. Better to be thought a fool. See from their shoes. Include others if you talk Victor. Use positive words. Beyond all – listen. So I do.

"We're going to turn this team around 360 degrees."
-- Jason Kidd, upon his drafting to the Dallas Mavericks

Facebook. Read,see something that makes you get pissed - THEN GO TAKE A WALK. I've not heeded those words upon occasion – and thank goodness for the “remove this post” thingy. Still, hurt hurts. Posts taken down assuredly have been read. There ain't no backspacing there.

Question: If you could live forever, would you and why?
Answer: "I would not live forever, because we should not live
forever, because if we were supposed to live forever, then we
would live forever, but we cannot live forever, which is why I would not live forever." -- Miss Alabama in the 1994 Miss USA contest

One'a my high school classmates put out a thingy on his wall about my frequency in hanging out at the place I hang out. Admittedly hurt a tad. And hey, what was said was true. I've admittedly not handled some things in my life well - and rebounding from divorce is one of them. Just not certain if I understand how pleasure was derived by the poster.

One night, after hanging out at this place I hang out at too much - “By golly I'm gonna find that post and give my two cents!”.. Editor's note: If you hangout like I hangout at those places yain't supposeda (apparently) hangout at all the time – resist the urge to type after you've hanged out. Mebbe even consider a breathalyzer to gain access to your keyboard. Fortunately, the post was taken down – yet again, it was read, the point etched forever.

I do enjoy shock value. You know, borderline stuff like my father usedta sing:
“She's got freckles on her BUT(t?) she's pretty.”... We have a thingy at work – where, due to time zones, we employ a person to work over until 7pm. Uncle Sam “posts” shipments our company can grab up, and there's even a tally board on the wall with folk's name, how many they nab. Every morning, supervisor walks in, she asks “Did you get any last night?” And every morning I DIE laughing. So, walking down the hallway, I see no reason I can't approach one'a my coworkers and ask her if she got any last night. You?

"I was under medication when I made the decision to burn the tapes."
-- Richard Nixon, Former US President

Conversations “at break”... I happen to enjoy taking a break, getting the hell away from the monitor for a bit. Never fails, one will strike up conversation involving a work question – and I'm quick to toss in “you've got 30 seconds to stop that shit.” (ie, talking about work.) We're on break. They kinda-sorta know me, and know I kinda-sorta enjoy teasing, but they also know I'm kinda-sorta serious.

Victor, you're rambling. You're dominating this conversation, SIZE 20 TYPE.. Sorry. Am. Usually don't. Open mouth, insert keyboard. Conversations can be wonderful. Insightful. Dreadful. Harmful. Fun. Boring. A learning experience. An embarrassing experience. Memorable. Fodder for water cooler talk, phone calls later, emails about – and one on one whispering.

"The word 'genius' isn't applicable in football. A genius is a guy
like Norman Einstein."
-- Joe Theisman, NFL football quarterback and sports analyst

Taking a cue from Joe (and 'Norman”) I will end this conversation. Sorry for inserted keyboard in mouth. Happy day, Love, Victurd.

A quick story......

2011-03-06T07:14:00.000-08:00

The tears, happy ones, they come...

I dunno if it's old age... or, so much of seeing occasional not-so-good in life, or mebbe compilation of the two...

but.. close your ears or don't close your ears: some things make me well up. I REALLY liked this story in Parade Magazine today... And really, many parts in the article where I coulda/did, cry. But.. .fer sure I did when I got to the point of the article "Can I ask you something?"... you'll have to read to understand.

Quite a young man. God Bless "good", and there is good out there. Love, Victurd

http://www.parade.com/news/our-towns/2011/0306-the-whole-world-in-his-arms.html

Pation....

2011-03-05T07:04:00.000-08:00

Always liked ends. Burnt ends. Perty female rear ends. Good movie ends. Basketball game ends. (Son, upon occasion, as toddler, could demonstrate "grump".. which, sounded exactly like the buzzer at the end of a basketball game. "emmphhh".. We'd relate "Please son (insert task here).." and before we could finish the sentence "emmphhh.".. So, before he could even form words - we decided to simply ask "how does a basketball game end" - and he'd chime in with his 'emmphhhamous' "emmphhh").. Year ends. Work ends..

Thought of 'pation' as an end. Googled pation. Found a lista words, some (fancy for many) I had no idea whatinthehell they meant. So, googed "define ____pation" for each.. and decided to write about 'pation. Thanks for your pation-ce wit me. Here goes:

Woke up this morn with constipation. Chalked it off to anticipation, this nonparticipation... certainly not inculpation.. after brief palpation, to check for obstipation.. definitely no need for extirpation.. probably a result of excessive dissipation... damn the bowels, oh for emancipation..

Inculpation, sure, I be responsible for this, once again, nonparticipation.. Mebbe due to occupation? Just hope I didn't swallow something, no critters down there going thru pupation. Whaddever's going on down there, great preoccupation. Eh, always a ne'er do well, hard to cipher, that way fore'er, mebbe syncopation?

To Mickey D's ten minutes prior to opening, usurpation. Hey, not loitering, not stealing, not gonna rob – my exculpation. It's me, Victor. I come here every weekend, my reoccupation – it's syncopation.

Gotta go now. (I'll leave that for you to cipher.) Runned outta pation-ce.. Happy Day, Victurdpation. Victor, you're weird... but we knew that.

Leggo'a my leggo.......

2011-03-02T19:27:00.000-08:00

“Letting go”..... wow, whadda term, thought. Ranges anywheres from ordering at the fast food joint.. “curt” snotnose on speaker.. patience, “letting go” before ya hit the window... to.. a 20+ marriage down drain... mebbe more difficult things...

I still 'play' softball. Shouldn't. But do. Don't wanna leggo of yesteryear. Youth. "Can't".. The 60's, 70's, 80's, yada.. Screw that, from the neck up, I'm still young. Yes Victor, but from the neck up is of very little importance in playing softball. Bite me. Hey Toad, wanna play catch?

Those that ain't here any longer. I so love you all, and I hope you ain't in same boat as I (“the Lone Ranger” from nuclear family).. but too.. I know many have lost spouse, child... so – I'm very, very sorry for that.. Still, I miss my mother, father, sister. I will never leggo'a them. Never.

I love when people never leggo'a their spunk, passion, fervor – be it politics, men/women's rights, equality, animal rights, religion, the love'a blue's music, Farmville, Sudoku, creed, old cars, fishing, hunting, Harley's – WHATEVER. I likes 'attached' folks.

(((((((((((((((((((Don't take my "go" away from me
Don't you leave my pattern in misery
If you do then I'll be blue
'Cause lettin' go his hard to do))))))))))))))))

Harmful words. We've all been on the receiving end. Vely hard to leggo. You conjure up their face in your sleep... mebbe meet 'em in the aisle of the Piggy Wiggly.. a snarl.. raised lip.. Damned hard to leggo. Diuretics, Beta Blockers may helps the blood pressure.. but me thinks the “can't leggo” is engrained fore'er.

A favorite tool, towel, bedspread, shirt, slacks, jeans, cologne type – no matter they went out of favor when Ike was in office, “by God I ain't changing.”. The setting on ur alarm clock.. The pattern with which you do things, be it home or away... the path you take daily by car... NO VARIANCE.. we're fearful of “leggo my leggo.” Comfort.

((((((((((((((((((((((((((Remember when we did things right
And twas the same all through the night
Think of all that we've been through
Lettin' Go Is Hard To Do)))))))))))))))))))

Upset the apple cart. “To mess, or ruin something.” Death. Aging. Divorce. Change. Moving. Losing a pet. Job loss. Job change. Someone rearranging ur crap without autho. A new boss. 60 degrees one day, 24 the next.

As we age, we're seemingly more deeply imbedded in our own way... 'you do what you want... leave me the hell alone'... Change is harder. Walls of resistance stronger. Heels, dug in.

(((((((((((((((( They say that lettin' go up is hard to do
Now I know, I know that it's true
Don't say that this is the trend
Instead of lettin' go I wish that it were the same ole go again))))))))))))))

Of course we ain't letting of the greatest musical era ever... take your Ipod classics, Touch's, Nano's, Shuffle's, and leave me the hell alone. I ain't lettin' go of Jimmy... John, Paul, George, Ringo.. Mick, the Stones, Woodstock, Motown.. that. Scram. Not.. NOT letting go.

The hairstyle. The friends we keep, make. The favorite places we go to eat, shop, browse. The roads, path we take to get there. I could give a rats if these old, short, white Fruit of the Looms went outta style shortly after Vietnam, I love 'em and I ain't changing. (Well, I flip them every other day, but will ne'er leggo.)

(((((((((((((((((((((I beg of you, don't say goodbye
Can't we give our go's another try
Come on y'all, let's start a new
'Cause lettin' go is hard to do ))))))))))))))))))

Victor. Yes? Leggo of the keyboard. Oh.. K. Sorry. Love, Victurd.

Alley-min-yum... My week, and whyinthehell do you think anyone would care?

2011-02-27T07:48:00.000-08:00

Eh, I dunno. Folks gotta right to click or not click. Put it in reverse, get the help outta here – or, read on, bootscoot any time they wanna.

Monday-Tuesday-ish:

Outside, cig at work one day last week, winged at a buddy: “Hey ________, how's your day going?” (_____ = to protect the innocent.) “Oh man, it's been a crappy day. I was driving to work and I smelled gas. It got REAL bad, so I pulled over. When someone stole my car last month, they jacked with the gas cap and it no longer stays attached, so I must've left it at the gas station. So, I turn around, go back, hoping the “Indian feller” found it and kept it for me. I pull in and he's ranting and raving at me. I'd forgotten to get some cigs after I bought 'em last week, and he'd remembered that, given them to me. So I couldn't figure out why he was so upset over a gas cap.... then.. 'MY PUMP, YEW DROVE OFF WID MY PUMP.. DE HOSE AND ALL.' Oh shit, I had. I'd forgotten to take it out once it stopped.”

Tuesday-Wednesday-ish

I received what just might be the most fun email I've ever received. (Women might wanna “put the browser in reverse” here):

(The PG13 version) “The Fairy Tale”.. Once upon a time, a Prince asked a beautiful Princess “will you marry me”? The Princess said NO And the Prince lived happily ever after and rode motorcycles and smooched on skinny big boobed broads and hunted and raced cars and went to nudey bars and dated women half his age and drank whiskey, beer and wine and never heard bitching and never paid child support or alimony and kept his house and guns and never got cheated on while he was at work and all his friends and family thought he was frigging cool as hell and had tons of money in the bank and left the toilet seat up ..... The end

Victor? PLEASE tell me you DIDN”T forward that to your ex too did you? (GUILTY!)

Wednesday-Thursday-ish....

Left front, right rear, taking turns to see which could be the first to completely go flat. Many a morning, I limped to the gas station, Willie Makeit. ENOUGH. Go to Mr. Tire. Local owned joint, reputable, used 'em many a time. Left car. Fitteen dollars apiece to repair a tire. Reasonable. Drop it off. Back some two hours later. “Oh, he (the guy that worked on tires) needs to talk to ya.”... “Hi sir, well, your tires are ok, it's just that they're not sealing around those Aluminum wheels.. it's pretty common.. so I didn't fix anything... that one is already lost a buncha air.” Damnit-darnit. Whadda I owe ya? “Oh nothing.”

The Alley-min-yum comes from my British friend Pete Anderson. Slinging suitcases for United Airlines years ago, he says … 'ey Vic,'hand me that Alley-min-yum one wouldya?” HUH? So, the pronunciation in Britain I reckon.

The tires? I gave 'em my best 'checkenginelight' little dab of silicone sealer between the tire and wheel, so far, so good. (Knock on Alley-min-yum)..

Thursday evening-Friday morning....

Another round of snow/cold. 30 mph on Interstate going home Thursday.. Roads STILL terrible Friday am. Didn't see pavement for first 18 miles. Made it, fingernails a tad shorter. We're up to 32"s of snow for the year in the KC Metro area. March Madness reminds us "5 of the 10 heaviest snows have occured in March over the years." Damn daddy.

Saturday

Visitation (actually it was really “A celebration of life") for onea my best friends father, Bud. Basement of rental hall.. Very nice... Casual.. The 'theme' was “wear MU gear.” Bud was my little league coach for years and years.. Followed us old codgers into our softball playing days.. My fellow bowling teammate. My friend, as well as my friend's father.. A nice, nice man. Upbeat was the mood... Three humongous “Picture walls” of photos from his 77 years of life.. WONDERFUL pictures.. Little league pics.. Our bowling team.. and of course tons of family. Bud's wife walked up to me smilingly, and I lost it. Very hard to talk. Tears welled up. “I'm so sorry Mary” as I hugged her. I'd slipped and gone “against the grain/idea” of the celebration – and I felt badly.. I know though she knows how much I loved her hubby. While sure, extremely sad the reason we'd gathered - many, many a folk there that we shared 'living our youth, 20's, 30's, 40's".. I pray for the family in the weeks ahead as I know they will be the roughest.

Today... Sunday...

A little brown, not-so-very pretty bird.. tapping on my window with it's beak. As if to say “HEY YOU.. I flew North too damn early... lemme in?” Wondered what kind it was, then, a moment later a beautiful, vibrant red cardinal perched beside too. AHA. Since all the women 'left' at the Fairly Tale story, then I can share that the male species of the cardinal is the very beautiful, bright red plumage, colorful one – and the females are actually quite drab.

That's my week, and I'm sticking to it. Sorry (kinda) to ramble – it's just how I am. Love, Victurd.

Please don't rain on my Parade....

2011-02-20T07:20:00.000-08:00

“Hi sweetie”... I hear this every Saturday and Sunday morning at Mickey D's.. Nice enough kid... Due to my Pavlov behavior, I don't even have to order my breakfast... She codes it in, smiles, collects my $2.80 – and fetches me my goodies. In hanging around there for sometime now, I've noticed one has to order a “Senior Coffee” to earn the greeting “Hi sweetie.” Still, perty cool.

Sport's page, Sausage biscuit, front page, Sausage McMuffin, local page, gulpa coffee, entertainment, scan the ads – coffee refill, then, finish up with Parade magazine. Today's front page: The Secrets To A Long Life.. Why is it, when one is young, ya never think about age – but as one ages, there are reminders allover all the time?

Article touched on some myths about living longer... “Marriage guarantees a longer life”... learn, not necessarily so for women, so for men. Men that have divorced – BEWARE. Oh shit.

“Taking it easy adds years to your life.” Article suggests early retirement, living at golf community ain't necessarily accurate for longevity. In fact, it suggests to continue working past retirement age. “Increased responsibility brings more challenges, but this paradoxically correlates with long-term health.” Ahm, this one's ok, cause after peeking at my retirement stash (insert hee-haw here) I will be working... and working... and working..

“You can worry yourself to death.” Parade rains in “actually, the opposite is true. The best predictor of longevity is conscientiousness.”

“More degrees mean more years.” Article took a turn to relate “we found when children entered first grade at age 5, not age 6, they often did not live as long.” Oh shit. I quite honestly couldn't have painted better parents, but I've always wondered why I went to kiddy-garten at age 4. Oh well. Oh shit. (Hopefully I more than made up for in earning my 4-year degree in 6 years. Hey, college was fun!)

“Friendly, outgoing people thrive.” Not necessarily Parade again sprinkles in. A “people person” may often join in the behaviors of the moment – and that affects longevity.” Oh shit.

“Jocks outlive nerds.” Of course exercise is good. If one becomes sedentary (like say sits and watches FB for too many GD (gosh darn) hours a day, it ain't a good thing. Oh shit.

Me thinks my own personal problem is I ain't so great at any kinda calendar other than the one that displays today's date - so I'm cursed that I "join in behaviors of the moment." Sorry, I live for today. Hard time planning for tomorrow. But (Victor, you butt, you can't start a sentence with but, I've told you that before...but bite me) but, I think living IS for the moment, the hour, the second. Sure, I've got bad habits – but at the enda the day, I've normally had fun (and haven't harmed anyone ceptin' mebbe Victurd). Rack a buncha them bastards up (living for the moment days)– and I'd say it's been a pretty good life.

If you dare to have them “rain on your Parade” too... you can login to their “How Fast Am I Aging” quiz and either be impressed or depressed, dependent upon your results.

http://www.parade.com/health/how-fast-are-you-aging.html?type=question

I was “average” which, actually caused me to let a little worried air outta the belly, cause I was just sure as shit (sorry to all my relatives, I occasionally cuss here) it was gonna say something like “You've got two, three years tops.”

I've proudly earned these wrinkles, this belly. I don't see much change on the horizon, scroll back to “live for the minute.” Minutes are good, they stack into hours, then days, then years, then – a fun compilation of life – whenever that day comes.

And your score? You gonna be around for awhile? Hope so, Love Victurd.

Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda

2011-02-19T07:04:00.000-08:00

Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda,
Drive a Buick now, not Granada..
Winter's poopy, and disdaining,
and the gas bills, so damn draining,

I went sledding, with Ralph Spivey,
He hit big tree, but still alivey
You remember Ida Skinner,
She got frostbite last night after dinner.

On the Interstates, are such haters..
At the 4-way, are no waiters..
I drive wimpy, such a sissy,
But my work now, I no missy..

Now I don't want this should scare ya,
but my blower fan, blows no air ya,
You remember Tommy Hardy,
Tongue stuck on pole last night at the party..

Bring me Spring, oh Mudda Fadda,
Bring me Spring, says this cantata,
Don't leave me out in the Winter where,
I catch pneumonia from frozen hair..

Bring me Spring, I promise not to make noise
I'll grab a club, play golf with other boys,
Oh please Winter go away,
Had enough, we're really here to say...

Dearest Fadda, darling Mudda,
Winter is sucha, great big dudda,
Bring me springtime, I do miss thee,
I would even let Aunt Bertha hug and kiss me

Wait a minute, it stopped freezing,
Playing softball, some guys sneezing,
And some golf too, gee that's betta
Mudda, fadda kindly disregard this letter.

Thirsty?

2011-02-16T19:36:00.000-08:00

Just “Whistle”!

Circa, I ain't sure how many years ago. Pretty certain it was my friend Rick Holman's father who asked it... And of course, the answer was a wonderful Vess Orange Soda. Rick's dad was nice enough to help some of us recovering from an airline going belly up – and I was a temporary “hod carrier” - those jobs had personality, and I was extremely thankful he'd bailed me/us out... Thirsty? Just Whistle!

Victor, howinthehell do u pick these topics
(and mebbe whyinthehell too)? You mean like “whistle?” Yes, like whistle. This will come as no shock to those that frequent “The Dish” pizza (and bar) joint.. .but... I have somewhat of an addictive behavior pattern, and onea those patterns is whistling.

I do it constantly at work. If I'm standing, walking, I'm whistling. Undecided if it's “see the funny little clown”: No one knows he's crying, no one knows he's dying on the inside, cause he's laughing (whistling) on the outside.. mmmmmm” OR... that I really am happy, enjoy every moment.. and simply whistle. I'd like to think the latter.

Onea my addictions this morning led me to the breakroom to partake in an 85-cent packa chocolate donuts, and a 65 cent bag of BBQ Fritos (this is a recording). As I entered (whilst whistling something) I hear “I bet I know who that is”... swung door open, “Yep, toldya.” So, a good thing whistling is. Identifiable. Up. Fun. Happy. Braggadocios? Quoting my wonderful stepson “Not no's but hells no's”.. Walking silently taint fun. Adding a whistle along the way helps. Mebbe makes one think of a happy Grandpa. (Victor, u dumbass, you are that.) SEE? Toldya!

Whistling, as in refereeing. My buddy and I do 1st/2nd grade basketball. Ya blow the whistle for a violation, and heck, the kids just ain't that far removed from “Johnnie Jump-ups” but all they know whistle means stop, so they do. The dads (some, not all) think you blow the whistle too much, or not enough, or at the wrong time, or for the wrong reason.

(Side note: nothing to do with whistling. For simplification, the five kids on each team wear different colored wristbands.. 5 colors total.. and the “red guy” guards the corresponding “red guy” on the other team, and blue/blue, green/green, yada/yada. Occasionally, onea the good/smart players will leave the blue guy he is guarding, and attempt to steal the ball from yellow guy. A no-no. As I wander around at age fitty-something, I've seen/heard the AGE DISCRIMINATION thingy. This years coaches, cool dudes. Not-so-much last year. One of the wet-behind-the-ears (sorry, I know judgmental) coaches hollered out “Can you even SEE the colors?”) Come to think of it, I guess that was kinda-sorta related to whistle, 'cause I damn near swallowed mine in laughter when he said that.

Clean as a whistle.... Not worth a whistle... Whistle down the wind... Whistle for it.. You ain't justa whistling Dixie... Whistle while you work... Wet your whistle... Calling a dog... A cop, stopping traffic... The “it's lunchtime” whistle... The Choo choo train's warning prior to an intersection.. Whistler's mother.. Whistleblowers...

In music...... Me and Julio down by the schoolyard... Centerfold.. Sittin' on the dock of the Bay... The Good, the Bad, the Ugly.. and (I'm old) my alltime fav “"The Bridge On The River Kwai"

And........ drum roll........... SPRING! I swear I've heard the kinda whistles from birds that ain't supposed to be back here yet. SWEET TWEETS! For us Midwesterners - we wait and wait and wait for that whistle... And it's ALWAYS worth the wait....

The whistle. Recess (and this blog) is over. Last one in line gets a demerit. Whistle, and whistling very much is a happy thing. Honest, I ain't braggin'. Just happy... so... I whistle. Life's a good blow. Love, Victurd.

Of turds, connotations and rivalries…..

2011-02-15T10:33:00.001-08:00

This message will self destruct in two minutes. I have asked the Facebook leaders to not allow ‘copy and paste’..

I have THE utmost respect for all things the University of Kansas. In fact, I recently learned the very first collegiate basketball game in the (Great) State of Missouri was played at my alma mater, William Jewell College. Jewell lost to KU, something like 12 to 3. Know who KU’s coach was? Yep, one James Naismith.

Glenn Cunningham, I mean let’s be for real.. a more inspirational story? Wilt the Stilt, in my own mind, THE BEST ever, the most dominating, the “comes along once in a lifetime” thingy…

Gale Sayers... the Kansas Comet.. Best ever? Mebbe....

Jim Ryan. I lived Jim Ryan. He ran “for us”, yes, yes he did. (In addition to the University of Kansas)…

And of course “The Program.” Storied. Hell, invented there. Year after year of Top Ten finishes, and yes, National Championships… First coaching clinic I ever attended, Lawrence, KS. Respected.

On toppa all that, I will forever be loyal to Missouri. The rivalry begs for that. The rivalry is wonderful.

Why? It ain’t life or death… Why? WHY THEN VICTOR, do you get behind the keyboard, you, YOU with your “no conference victories on the road” and bash ‘us’ when we hit the occasional and rare ‘pothole’? Cause it’s fun. Gets under your skin. Many, many, many a good friend, KU fans. A few KU fans, (please note I said a few, not most, or necessarily you) extremely, EXTREMELY arrogant. Sorry, they are. (That, oh, and a few beers led me there)..

Turds. An inside joke I picked up on – but… also mindful of the arrogant ones (not most, but a few, and not you) who think “It doesn’t stink.”.. So.. when skid marks happen, I gots to remind. It does stink.

But.. butt... unlike Roy, I'm staying forever...

Presently we sit in 5th place. Loyal. I is. I wouldn’t trade the record, the history, the gym, the names, the anything to be in your place.

HOORAY, HURRAH, MIZZOU, MIZZOU!
HOORAY, HURRAH, MIZZOU, MIZZOU!
HOORAY, HURRAH, AND A BULLY FOR OLD MIZZOU,
RAH! RAH! RAH! RAH!
MIZZOU-RAH! MIZZOU-RAH! MIZZOU-RAH, TIGERS!

Love, vicTURD

Mebbe the greatest word ever....

2011-02-12T07:43:00.000-08:00

Ok, sure... You're curious. I'm curious. And you were thinking? Love? Peace? Family? Emotion? Devotion? ButterBrickleIceCream? Sex? (Pervert!)

I was thinking of the word touch. Of course, foremost one thinks of the touch between two lovers – and sure, a wonderful thing. (At least I THINK I remember it being so!)... Hands held in walk.. A simple hand on the leg when sitting beside one another.. A soft brushing of the cheeks... OK OK, and the more NC-17 touches, sure.

This grandparent thing has reminded me of another version of touch. Wonder. To lean, to kiss the cheek and see the reaction in the eyes of my granddaughter gives me a feel like no other. MAJOR yanks on the heartstrings.

A fun touch about touch the other day on FB. Proud mama/fellow coworker writing about the results of a recent bath given to her one year old son “So my son discovered his “manhood” in the bath last night... great” !!!!!

Touch is helping someone up off the ground. Opening a door for a stranger to enter first, hand placed upon the shoulder to hopefully nicely welcome them in first. Meeting a friend for a drink, or dinner – catching eyeballs across the room – the handshake/smile, embrace.. simply saying “I like you” without words.

An email in your inbox (or outbox). You were on my brain, thought I'd (touch) write. Clicking the like button on FB, or adding a comment, posting to one's wall. Touch.

Seeing or reading something highly emotional, wonderful – and twenty-five years ago ya mebbe didn't even know how to cry – but now, today, the tears flow so easily. Touched. I am goofy in this manner. Honest, I cry too damned easily, and.. close your ears, I love it. TOUCH = FEEL. Yippee, yahoo, oh baby, oh baby. Come'n git me life, I'm living/loving. Touch. Touched.

A flower. A note. A high five.

Had a shipment at work the other day – a Wednesday.. Import. “Last free day” in the warehouse in New Jersey. LTL carrier summoned in to pickup. Next day “sorry, didn't happen, limited drivers, bad weather too.” So.. Cha-ching check for $180 (storage fees) overnited ($90 for Thursday, $90 for Friday).. Driver sent back in Friday. Learn Monday “well, he was in line.. was gonna be 2 hours.. dispatcher pulled him out.. he went back a few minutes before close.. they wouldn't load him.” Damn daddy. So.. s'more cha-ching. $90 for Saturday. $90 for Sunday. It's Monday, can't get a check to them until Tuesday, so anuther hunnerd and eighty for that. I had eight eyeballs at work looking at me funny. The hell was I to do? To the rescue comes a new coworker. Nice fella named Jay. Walked into my cubicle, announced “Hey Vic, I ran down a broker in NJ, persuaded them to pay on our behalf, AND pickup today" (Monday.) My eyeballs brightened, my smile swiftly came – I put up my hand for a high five – and and even broader smile appeared across his face. Bingo. Friends. “Official – welcome, GLAD you're here!” Later sent him an email with the ending “You da man!”.. Responded, “thanks! Slick Vic!” A simple touch can mean so much.

A recent blog about Liberty, MO "back in the day." Had a comment online “Thanks Vic. I left Liberty 30 years ago and miss being there almost all the time. You talked about people that I haven't thought about in years. Thanks for taking the time to write this blog. Casey Williams”.. Wow – way cool. We each gotta touch outta that Casey – thanks!

We all touch every day – even if no physical contact. We touch or are touched in watching TV, a movie, a phone call, the internet. We 'touch base'. Mebbe kinda-sorta ALMOST as nifty as winging the words “I love you.” (And that in and of itself, is a touch, touching.)

Ok, time to scram. Gotta referee little turds basketball. 1st and 2nd graders. They don't even keep score. Pretty touching to watch the faces of both the kids and the parents. May you enjoy the touch in your life – and the touching of others. It's a good thing, mebbe the greatest word ever. Love, Victurd.

With Liberty and justice for all.....

2011-02-06T08:28:00.000-08:00

I guess with age comes “the want to go back”... in time.. Once upon a time, I abhored ideas like Facebook. Divorced, probably (assuredly) depressed, I'd sat my butt too many damn hours in fronta the monitor..Yahoo.. MSN.. Lycos, a host of goofy dating sites.. MySpace... yada yada... As our recent Class Reunion approached, “join Facebook, our class has a page.” NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!.. I want AWAY from this 'addiction', NOT further attached to it.

So, demonstrating weakness as I've so demonstrated over time, I 'joined'.. Redfacedly, very glad I have. Not only instant connection to “Townies”, but college buds, co-workers (present and former), young, old, and of course, loved ones.

The recent “want to go back” included visiting about our first jobs in Liberty, the pay (or lack thereof)... where we lived in town, who we 'ran' with.. what we did...

In summation, Liberty was a damn fine town to grow up in. Hope it still is (wow, the changes).. I still vividly see China Slaughter directing traffic... Ace Thompson's smile.. Topsy... Atkinson's Cab (mom didn't drive, when dad was outta town and we needed groceries).. Bud “Rack 'em Wiggins” Temple..

Years and years of seeing the Football team ride on the Fire Truck in the Homecoming Parade, hoping one day I could be up there.. . Going to Dairy Queen and running into Bobby Bell and Willie Lanier.. Running across Mill Street after a game at Franklin in effort to be first in line for a mug of wonderful Root Beer...

The stately one way streets.. Blacks, whites, dribbling our basketballs to St James to play together, cohesively, all friends... Coffee shops, folks sat and visited. No cell phones, no pagers, no mini-vans, SUV's... time seemingly went slower... appreciated more? You could ride your bike anywhere in town - and your folks knew you'd be ok. ANYWHERE!

A new slew of college kids every August.. Playing racquetball in old Brown Gym, hearing the light rap on the door.. “Mr. Stram would like to play now.”

Walking from the City Park to Franklin after a ballgame for the carnival. Metal baseball cleats (somehow we survived.) I almost didn't that night. Tilt-A-Whirl. Moisture on the grass. The metal cleats. Metal ramp leading to seats. Not a good mix. As I set foot on the metal ramp – I was brought down to my knees by the force of electricity. Had it not been for the quick switch of ride operator Terrell Morley, I would literally have been toast in milliseconds. (I guess it's true, when being electrocuted, one's hair does strange things... 'cause I remember some little girl exclaiming "LOOK AT VICTOR'S HAIR!)

The Ku Ku.. or Cuckoo, heck I don't remember. Don't shoot me Denny. Denny Ray “borrowing” some gas from the station across the street, honking his way up the hill. Well, most of the way up the hill. Unfortunately, he'd 'borrowed' diesel for his car.

Reverends Link and Houston, Grundy, Naomi, Mrs. Sumpter, Bonita, Mayor Thompson, Mr. Vance, Mr. Gant, Rod White, Mrs. Weakley, Mr. Nail (remember the Rain Dances?).. and certain more, just escapes me now. Town fixtures. Population 8,909. <-- seems like that sign was up forever!

Fun was inexpensive. Toppa the hill by the Methodist Church, getting between the spotlights and the church to form 40' tall shadowed images of ourselves as folks watched from the bottom of the hill. Whiffle ball. Indian Ball. Wonderful interruptions in chasing down the ice cream truck.

Kennedy Pool. The Incident. The Plaza Theater.. Junior Mints and popcorn.. Dances in the Basement of the JC's place... Driving to Antioch to get the most recent “40 Star Survey” and later listening to Johnny Dolan count 'em down. Motown. Woodstock.

We were oblivious to 'class'. We played in basements and backyards of any/everyone. Jeans were patched, sack lunches were carried to school.

I am certain across America, towns equally as fitting, fun in the day. I love life, and have had a wonderful one. We lived in Liberty when I was real young... moved away for a few years.. came back.. (I'll never forget, 2nd grade I think, being a newbie... LeRoy Peters, first one to really talk to me, giving me a piece of blue gum on the playground.. if he only knew how good that made me feel to be kinda-sorta accepted)... 6th grade, father got the itch to move again. Sister, then a sophomore, and much like her brother, very tired of making/leaving new friends.. DUG HER FEET IN. PITCHED HIZZY. Proud to say, thanks to her, still here some 51 years later.

Sentiment, emotion is a wonderful thing. If we didn't feel, the hell's the use in even being here. I'm very sentimental about the town I grew up in. To all of the above who are gone – please rest in peace. (Ace, I've STILL got the oriental lettered ring you gave me in High School!).. To all who are still around, I hope your ride in Liberty has been as fun as mine. Love, Victurd.

Here in River City...... Two sides to every board...

2011-02-05T07:07:00.000-08:00

Trouble, oh we got trouble,
Right here in River City!
With a capital "T"
That rhymes with "P"
And that stands for Pool,
That stands for pool.
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in River City,
Right here!
Gotta figger out a way
To keep the young ones moral after school!
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble...

Her shoes: You're jealous and controlling.
My shoes: Maybe, but don't you think Girl's Night Out Monday, Wednesday, Friday is a bit much?
(Two sides to every board.)
VICTOR! WHY? WHY display your dirty laundry?
(Two sides to every pair of undies... hehe)

Mothers of River City!
Heed the warning before it's too late!
Watch for the tell-tale sign of corruption!
The moment your son leaves the house,
Does he rebuckle his knickerbockers below the knee?
Is there a nicotine stain on his index finger?
A dime novel hidden in the corn crib?
Is he starting to memorize jokes from Capt.
Billy's Whiz Bang?
Are certain words creeping into his conversation?
Words like 'swell?"
And 'so's your old man?"
Well, if so my friends,
Ya got trouble,
Right here in River city!
With a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P"
And that stands for Pool.
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in River City!
Remember the Maine, Plymouth Rock and the Golden Rule!

Seems for each and every situation, there are two sides to the board. The view from one's shoes. Sometimes, hard to throw on another's loafer, have it be comfy, and, “get their drift.”

Work, the other day. The blizzard day. One set of shoes: (Noon).. Please go ahead and go home. Don't clock out, we'll take care of it. (Way cool!).. Nuther's shoes: “#%$^)( $&$# IT!” If we woulda waited another hour I don't think I'da made it home!.. Two sides, every board.

She's beautiful. Ewww. He's a great worker. We talking about the same person? I LOVE WINTER! I'da shot Punxsutawney had he seen his shadow. Here, I can tell you need some bucks, take this $20, no repayment. Sorry, I gave at the office, scram kid.

Oh, we've got trouble.
We're in terrible, terrible trouble.
That game with the fifteen numbered balls is a devil's tool!
Oh yes we got trouble, trouble, trouble!
With a "T"! Gotta rhyme it with "P"!
And that stands for Pool!!!

Democrat/Republican. Male/Female. Christianity/Islam. Youth/Adult. Wealthy/Barely make ends meet. Urban/Rural/3rd pair of shoes: Suburban. Moral/Not-so-much. Bud's Pool Hall/River City Moral Majority.. KU/MU.. Green Bay/Da Bears.. Yankees/Red Sox.. Steak and potatos/Vegetarian. NRA/Gun control.. Depressed/Effervescent.. Dr. Phil/Howard Stern. I do/I usedta..

“Entreat me not to leave thee.. or to return from following after thee.. for where thou goest, I will go, and where thou stayeth, I will stay." (Unless I change my shoes.) VICTOR!!!! (hehe, sorry, slipper slipped!)

Opposite makes the world go round. Yes, bouncy, turbulent upon occasion – but if we all thought alike, had the same interests, beliefs, economical status, mindset – that wouldn't be fun.

Victor... kinda getting the drift... But whatinthehell does this song have to do with it?
2 sides to every board!... Quit whining, it's your shot. That's just the way the ball bounces.
Love, Victurd.

Old Man Winter………. please take a hike…….

2011-01-31T05:32:00.000-08:00

Old Man Winter………. please take a hike…….
Oh but the seasons, I do all like

Freezing rain today – why Lord why?
Slide on roads, no matter the ply…..

Foota snow tomorrow,
Geez, such sorrow…….

Florida sounds nice, would ease my fears,
but.. just saw a friend, been there 5 years…
Her face, don’t shoot me, looked like that of a croc,
Darnit, drats, I’ll just stay here Doc….

Born here, raised here, bonified Midwest.
Annually though, a sincere great test..

I’d give anything to have a Van Winkle…
Long, long sleep, after a real good tinkle…

Set the phone to silence, ne’er a ring…..
Off to sleep, jualah, it’s Spring.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray not awakened by some humorous creep,
and if I die before I wake,
at least I’ve skipped winter, for Heaven’s sake…

Slip sliding away, today's word.
Have a great one, love Victurd

Ugh…

2011-01-28T10:24:00.000-08:00

Forked over 3 quarters for today’s rendition of the Kansas City Star. Our little Midwestern mecca – occasionally a weird, weird place.

For starters.. Twenty-four year young man found dead on ground in Westport (popular young adult hangout area).. Appears he was leaving bar, late (or early, depending on how you look at 3am)… Hugging strangers.. Definitely tipsy… Bugged one fella.. “Gonna knock you out if you don’t leave”… Happened. Knocked him out with one punch – dead. Hitter walked off. Fortunately, thanks to $35,000 reward offered by parents, this person was found, and will go to trial.

Tummy upset yet? “Driver pleads guilty in fatal 152-MPH crash. This was in August of last year. He’d rear-ended a 22 year young gal that was set to graduate from college in December. I’m regretting spending my quarters.

“Baby’s Body Found in Truck Bed.” I didn’t even read the article.

60 year old Pizza Hut driver goes to door to deliver, met by 18 yr old female wearing a purple towel. That’s it. He’s suddenly pushed inside by purple-towel wearing’s 18 yr old boyfriend, hands duct-taped, all of $20 taken from him (and I suppose the pizza), thrown in the trunk of his own car.. dumped some thirty minutes later.

13 yr young girl paralyzed from waist down after sledding accident. Geez, how sad.

The read of the paper did end in some humor. (Sorry, I’m heap big MU fan).. “Ex-Ticket Director for the University of Kansas Athletic Department pleads guilty in her role of stealing, reselling over $2 MILLION dollars of tickets. Rock Chock Jayhawk$.

I’m old. People bemoaned the 60’s and the “Peace, love, not war.” The hair, the weird clothing, all that came with it. I’m beginning to think we’ve regressed in life. I’ve always lived “thirsty for news” and so, so enjoy the morning paper – but I’m thinking from here on out I may skip “The A section” and go directly to B.

Peace out. Make love, not war. Victurd.

Don't know much about history....

2011-01-25T19:14:00.000-08:00

Weird. Do you ever start to clean out a room for the expressed intent of finding one specific object?... Twas me tonight as I perused the year I was born.. .after I got into it... I forgot whyinthehell/whatinthehell I was looking for...

Nonetheless... what followed was a recaptured blast from the past (Bonita Allen/James Nail/Naomi Johnson/Walter Cronkite/Dan Rather/"Baba Wawa"/Peter Jennings.. et all..)

I honestly forget "what happened - when", so it was kinda go back and 'relive'... have fun.....

1951
The rain falls for 40 days and the Great Flood in July inundates Armourdale and the West Bottoms again, affecting the packinghouse business directly. At least 5 people die. National Guard units take up positions to discourage looting. To better maintain order, Kansas City closes the taverns and package liquor stores. City crews, desperate to save the Municipal Air Terminal, dump junked cars onto the embattled levees to fight the surging water-and keep the airport dry. Many Kansas residents are left homeless and will be relocated to temporary homes in trailers located on the Old Homestead Golf Course. "Trailer City" will be occupied until Christmas of 1952. After the flood, the Health Department of Kansas City administers 111,711 vaccinations to prevent typhoid fever. No typhus outbreak occurs. A federal official compares the land to the bombed-out cities of Europe in World War II. A nonprofit collective called Disaster Corps Inc. is formed to donate man-hours and equipment for the cleanup. Remembering the test of the city's mettle in 1900 when the Convention Hall burned down 3 months before the Democratic National Convention, city officials make a point of renovating the American Royal facilities for the show, which open on time in the fall. The country marvels at the collective Kansas City character. Illustrator Norman Rockwell paints "The Kansas City Spirit," showing a worker rolling up his sleeves while holding a blueprint. Joyce Hall prints it on 20,000 brochures distributed across the county. Riverside, Prairie Village, Mission, Merriam, Roeland Park, and Countryside are all incorporated.

January, 1952.. A man and woman smooch in St. Louis.(Ed/Velma Schultze) 9 months later, son born.

1955 Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat.... Polio vaccine...

1957 May, 20th. An F5 tornado rips through Ruskin Heights leaving 44 dead and another 500 injured

1958/59.. Welcome Alaska/Hawaii...

1960'a... Teachers made $5,174/year.. Psycho released...

1961 Bay of Pigs... Peace Corps founded..

1962.. Marilyn Monroe found dead...

1963.. JFK assasinated.. .. MLK “I have a Dream”speech..

1964 Chicago millionaire insurance man, Charles O. Finley, owner of the Kansas City Athletics, brings the Beatles to Kansas City. He pays the group $150,000 for a 31-minute concert at Municipal Stadium. About 20,000 people attend the concert on September 17th--fewer than half the available seats are filled.

1965 LA Riots

1966 Mass draft protests...

1967 First Super Bowl...

1968 MLK assassinated..

1969 Neil Armstrong, first man on moon.... Woodstock... Hi Sesame Street..

1970 KC Population reaches 507,330. The Kansas City Chiefs beat the Minnesota Vikings in Super Bowl IV, 23 to 7.... Beatles breakup...

1972 MASH premiers... Spitz, 7 Gold... Watergate..

1973 Crown Center opens, changing the face of Midtown... We're outta Viet Nam.. .

1974 Patty Hearst kidnapped... Nixon resigns...

1975.. Microsoft founded..

1977... Long live the king (Elvis found dead). Roots... Star Wars.. Brush Creek ravages the Plaza after a savage thunderstorm dumps torrents of water on Kansas City on September 12th. 24 die and property owners suffer $94 million in damages.

1978.. Babies now come in test tubes.. Hi Pope John Paul II

1979 The Kemper Arena roof collapsed in a violent thunderstorm, accompanied by strong winds and heavy rain. Fortunately on the night of the storm Kemper was empty.

1980 John Lennon assassinated.. CNN/Ted Turner emerge.. . Mt St. Helens spews..

1981 The suspended walkways at the one year old Hyatt Regency hotel collapse during a tea-dance party being held in the atrium lobby. 114 dead, over 200 injured... Pac Man... Charles/Di marry, millions watch...

1982 ET phone home.. “Thriller” released.. .Vietnam War Memorial opened in DC..

1983 Cabbage Patch... Sally Ride..

1984: PG-13 created..

1985 The Kansas City Royals win the World Series. The downtown loop experiences an increase in new construction and the restoration of older neighborhoods... My son Dru was born...Bret Saberhagen's son Drew born... New Coke..

1986 Chernobyl.. Challenger explodes..

1988 The Steamboat Arabia is found buried in farmland 1/2 mile south of the Missouri River. In the worst loss to the city's fire department since 1959, an Ammonium Nitrate explosion kills 6 firefighters responding to a fire at a construction site near 87th and 71 Hwy. 9 years later, 5 people are convicted of setting the fires in the truck trailers containing explosive ammonium nitrate.

1989 Berlin Wall falls..

1990 Mandela freed.. Hubble in space...

1991 Desert Storm

1992 Rodney King verdict spurs LA riots..

1993 World Trade Center bombed.. Lorena Bobbitt.. well... she “lops” it...

1994 OJ.. oh my.. arrested for double murder..

1995 Ok City bombed..

1997 Princess Di car fatal car
wreck.. Tiger wins Masters..

1998 Clinton Impeached.. . Coincidentally, Viagra marketed..

1999 What the hell is “The Euro?”

2001 Al Qaeda/Word Trade..

2002 An ice storm interrupts power to 387,000 area homes, damages trees, closes schools and businesses, knocks out streetlights, and causes runs in area stores on candles, sleeping bags, lamp oil, and generators. All the motel rooms are taken. 300 out-of-state utility crews from 12 states work 16-hour days to restore power. The cost of recovery after the storm is estimated at 20 million

2003.. March 20, War on Iraq... Hi MySpace... Facebook launched..

2005.. Katrina... Youtube...

2007 iPhone..

2008 Stock market crashes and the Dow Jones tumbles from a historic high of 14198.10
in October 2007 to 7449 in December 2008

2009 Two of America’s ‘Big Three’ car makers, Chrylser and General Motors, go
through bankruptcy proceedings...........

2011 (or 2012) Victor finds love of his life, makes him easily forget whatshername and whatshername.

Sticky notes and life....

2011-01-22T09:34:00.000-08:00

It's my desire of course, that I'm thought of in goodness – but, I admittedly slip a tad in cleanliness. Allover my cubicle, desk, computer monitor – I have sticky note reminders for this, that, upcoming, “don't forget”, on such-n-sucha date.... Have admittedly saved me some embarrassing moments if I were to have forgotten this/or that about a Military member's shipment (and it's timeliness)...

Life's all about reminders.. The guy that delivers mail at our work. Smile a MILE wide – all the time. Christmas time. He was back, for the second time – walking from his vehicle to our door, arms extended all the way below his waist – packages from his fingertips all the way up to his infectious smile. “The hell's wrong with you,” I asked... “It's Christmas time, you're a letter carrier, you CAN'T be happy?”... Grin got even wider... “OH NOOOOO... I LOVE CHRISTMAS! It's a choice!”.. . His sticky note, when he awakens, assuredly says something along the lines of “God's given me another, help make it great!”... and he does...

A not so great sticky note this morning.... Learned of the passing last night of our beloved Sigma Nu brother Mark Middleton. Taken way too young by cancer... He's in Heaven (absolutely wonderful) and he's no longer in pain, very thankfully.

I read his wife's Caring Bridge post to share this – wow, what a remarkable lady... and as I read it, (and the notes to the family in the Guestbook) I was literally brought to tears.. PPPPLEASE!!!! NOOOOO!!!! SAY IT AIN'T SO!!! I've missed so many years of his life! I wanna talk to him, I wanna shake his hand again, I'd love to share a beer, or a Pepsi again... I'd love to talk to him on the phone... sit in the same golf cart... tease unmercifully back and forth again like the good ole days... See his quick, HUMONGOUS (and also infectious) smile again.....

Hi-rickety was our Sigma Nu song... In the Caring Bridge Guestbook this morning, one of our Brothers wrote “I believe there was a loud “Hi Rickety” for Brother P (part of his nickname) at the pearly gates...”.. The song included “and at the Gates we meet Saint Pete, and he's a Sigma Nu...”

Mark Middleton – rest in peace my friend. I loveya and your zest for life. I hope one day we're reunited...

Please remember, I write to me. Hitchhikers welcome. Victor, please allow this not-so-great sticky note news to make you immerse yourself in smile with whatever time you're afforded here. Please remember, each and every day of your life – along the way, things aren't always going to go in the direction you desire. Folks won't always respond/react how you'd like them to. That's Ok – remember to remember the good.

When you open your eyes and look out, you have a choice as to what you see and how it goes through your brain. Choose happy, smile, positive as Mark and the USPS guy have.. If you come across those frustrating moments life throws at you, don't “hit back”, choose your words wisely... take a deep breath and allow the right thing to come out of your mouth (or sometimes even simply nothing at all)....

Treasure time, for we don't know the ultimate time-table we're on – that's not in our hands – but every remaining waking moment is. Victor, I suggest on your sticky note you write something along the lines of “Life, and how we live it, is a choice. Time too, is precious, use it wisely.” In Sigma Nu Honor, and in loving memory of Mark Middleton.

Later........

2011-01-21T19:20:00.000-08:00

All you happily married fo'er and e'er, this might not be your watoosie, cup of tea... but any slackers, singles (like muah) along the way – mebbe cause for hope.

To The Dish Pizza joint tonight. NO VICTOR, NOT YOU? THE ONE WHO GOES THERE DAMN NEAR EVERY NIGHT? Bite me, yes.

Very crowded. Friday's always are. Nexta my longtime runnin' buddy to my left.. Four open chairs to my right around the horseshoe bar.

Couple I'd seen time and agin' in there – but ne'er close enough to say “hey”/introduce, takes the two chairs to my right. I'd always admired them each/and their 'coupledom'..... laid back... wonderful smiles.. no hurry in life. Perfect together.

The gal was next to me. So we talked life. Parents. (She's got her mom, tween the three of us, the only parent left). Dementia, sad. Shared stories about that – sad, but accompanied by the occasional “ya just haveta laugh” stuff.

I guessed they'd met in HS some 35 or so years ago, as they seemed embedded in love. Not so, she related. Together 12 years. (She fitty-four, he, I ain't sure)... She from NC. Married, moved to TX. Her man then, insteada putting both hands on the lawnmower/keyboard, put them around her neck. I forget how she made the move from TX to MO, but it was a blessing.

Her brother was in town from NC visiting. He struck up conversation with a guy at same joint, approximately his sister's age... digits exchanged... and they (the gal to my right and her main man) haven't been apart a day since. 12 years. Far, far, out. And happy. And comfy. I truly admire their relationship, as do they.

In walks J & G. Admittedly, many past hours visiting with these folks. Perty much, same thing. Always happy, always jovial. Laughter insteada bitching. Asked tonight (finally) “so how'd you guys meet?”.. “She was my secretary in Oklahoma”.. AHA... so.... fastforward to seedy thoughts thru the brain.. I KNOW, I KNOW... YOU HAD A LOCK ON YOUR OFFICE DOOR DIDN'T YA? (He was married, but it was going “South”)

“No Vic, didn't... In fact, we never got together back then... Once my family split, after a bit, I did call her... I can't remember what day it was... She'd moved to Missouri... She said, “why don't you drive on up tonight?”.. and... I made a 4+ hour drive in about 3 hrs and fitteen minutes.”

AHA! So THAT was the night you smooched, said your “Oh baby's” and stuff eh? “Actually Vic, no... The first 5 or 6 trips up I went to see her, I always got a Motel room.. and no, no smooching (prolonged) together.” So, the idiot in me thinks “You drove ALL THE WAY from Oklahoma to Missouri, yet, you didn't 'oh baby, oh baby'?”

No, sorry. We didn't. And as that sunk in, far, far, out again.

Both of these couples within a few years of muah. Both, extremely happy. Content. There's no moving down the road (as far as mates.. who knows about retirement.)

Both couples, to observe 'em, you'd think “hmmmm, longterm, perfect together... fitting”... but nope – recent – if 12 years or so can be considered recent.

About 44 years ago, the Little League team I played on was “The Liberty Optimists”.. I had no friggin' idea what this meant. I figured it had something to do with eyesight.

Tonight, visiting with “they're hella old, like me, found love late, seemingly very damn good, ain't headed anywhere else, I love her/he” - twas a feel good.

Once again, I am a Liberty Optimist. Damnit. Wherethehellareya? Come, undress me. (Just kidding, kinda sorta.)... But (again with apologies to Mrs. Sumpter who said “you CAN'T start a sentence with 'But')... but... I do think one day it will happen. She will appear. Or, I will stumble upon her.

So... mebbe dementedly, I hope to hookup, learn all about you, treasure (for some years) in some travail's together, and then.....as we age... slowly, forget 'em all! (jk)..

Later... as in “seeya”... but too, later as in later in life. Life, regardless if “later” ever/never happens, is a very good thing. Reckon hope is ok though, eh?

Love, Victurd

Schoeller's

2011-01-18T18:36:00.000-08:00

Liberty has, I guess, come full cycle... Bigger/better.. at least as far as Supermarkets are concerned....

Whilst our town is (still) adapting from “size 30” jeans (population 5,000) to hella “42 inch waist” (2 high schools, 48 stoplights, population “who knows").... we've seen this grocery chain, that location, this special, that ad – change, for many a many year....

Today... THE top end Grocery opened – mega mart, (The Sam's Club to the regular ole WalMart world) - and, they topped off history, yes, of course (and thankfully), by hiring Mr. William Schoeller to be the greeter at the door upon entry.

Schoeller's (circa 60's/70's) for years, managed/owned by Bill/family, was “IT" as far as groceries in our fine town back in the day... the day of leaded fuel, and gas pumps that were only capable of going up to .99 cents. Many a family shopped there – many a smile/wonderful treatment from ownership/family/employees – and many a friend enabled, under their employ, to makes ends meet/get ahead – helping to make the transition from youth to adult. Nice.

One'a my all-time favorite hometown guys was (and is... 'was' only 'cause no longer with us).. Ron Schoeller (son of Bill). . Ron lived “nice”.... Ron lived “smile”.. Ron, taken from us all too damn soon, was simply one of the nicest guys I've ever met.

We played softball together for years..... Ron 'managed' our team (which is fancy for “please make sure they don't have too many beers in between tournament games so they can stay competitive”)... and he did... and it (softball) meant THE WORLD to him... Famous for 'pacing' (in worry “about this, about that”) but you NEVER caught/heard a terse word from Ron....

Once the mega-box stores eventually ran the little guys (including Schoellers) out of business... Ron went to work as a letter carrier for the Postal Service... So happened, he delivered to the street I/we lived on.

We had this little “mostly Poodle” hound named Magic – that loved the outdoors – so, we'd chain Magic up to the tree in the middle of our yard... Magic “no likey” anyone besides us.. For example... College kid, parking car out front: ARRRRFFF ARRRRFFFF..relentless.. .hyper, bent-outa-shape, as if to say “get the hell outta my neighborhood.” Lady walking dog down street.. Oh hell...We truly considered asking vet for doggy valium, as Magic JUST couldn't handle it all....

Magic wore a circular path around the tree we chained him too...... Ronnie could easily spot exactly "how close" he could walk to make it from our yard, to our next door neighbors, without Magic feasting on his calf muscle... This went on (and on and on) for years... Magic would get "this close" (holding up a thumb and forefinger) but never to the 'devour' closeness... Over the course of time, we'd tease about it verbally back and forth when I was outside and Ron happened by with the mail....

A bit later... we moved... Ron, no longer our carrier... darnit.. even a bit later... we'd won some championship of some softball league/tourney – SO... everyone invited (and came) over to our new house after, for BBQ, a few beers, backyard fun, and a dip in the pool.

At one point, I think I counted 42 people on the back deck. Magic was AOK with this new fenced back yard. He could roam free without chain, so he wasn't quite as consternated by visitors...

Ron, dressed in softball duds, mingled in and out of the crowd – and as he did, Magic paid NO attention. After forty-five minutes or so, Ron (with beer in left hand, and BBQ sandwich in right) said (very excitedly) “VIC... MAGIC DOESN”T RECOGNIZE ME!!!!!" and produced the largest Ron Schoeller smile I'd ever seen).. And... Magic, upon hearing that voice, the one “FOR YEARS, I WANTED TO EAT THIS GUY!” voice, OF COURSE – IMMEDIATELY went after Ron.. a jawlock on his right calf muscle.. Ron was torn between laughing his ass off and pain – as were we all!

Took five of us to pull Magic off Ronnie.. and I think we may have missed retrieving an incisor or two of Magic's from Ron's leg.....

It was onea the funnest moments of my life, so, thought I'd stop and share. Why good, good people are taken so/too soon is beyond me... God Blessya Ron Schoeller, we miss you. Love, Victurd