I said over and over and over again………

I’ve observed my son. I’ve scoffed at the many times I’ve seen him sit at the computer, play the same GD youtube song over and over and OVER again.

Then, I remembered back. “Hit The Road Jack.” The 45. (For those of you born after 1965, that was “our MP3” in the day. It was a round disc.. I rectum kinda sorta like an enlarged CD.. And u hadta have either a record player that would accept the plastic thingamabob that made it fit the small ‘rod’ of the 33 player… or… the Viagra like full bore thingamabob that u didn’t need the ‘record prophylactic” to make it play.

My sister played “Hit The Road Jack” again, and again, and again. I never understood it, but I got the hee-bee-jeebie Pavlov shakes if I didn’t hear it seventeen times daily.

Rectum our brains are kinda like that. We replay stuff over and over again that’s pleasant to life’s pallet.

I replay, over and over again, the very feel I got when the nurse handed me my bundled newborn son and said “would you like to carry him to the nursery?”.. Friggin A Ray I would, and I’ll NEVER forget that walk, that feel. I play it over and over again in my brain.

Life highlights. You do that? Aw come on.. Moments where “we done good.”

One for me… Back in dinosaur days, I coached the Women’s Basketball Team at a local Liberal Arts College… I’d helped start the program my sophomore year in college, and the next year I was elevated to Head Coach because the coach gradjugated, and was on to a real life….

After 5 or 6 seasons.. Never a losing season, but many many a learning season - we’d finally reached the Missouri Small College State Championship Game… but man o man.. So did Tarkio.. Now Tarkio was like Clubber Lang.. The New England Patriots… Mohammed Ali… They recruited Iowa women, and Iowa women, back then, were jump shots and layups above us Missourians, not to mention - each 4-6 inches taller than we.…

Somehow (friggin’ awesome coaching!) we studied, prepared, lived, breathed, playing/beating Tarkio. I honestly devoted so much time and attention to one game, one moment in life - I was better prepared than checkenginelight was the night I went out with “her”.. for sure to be “the answer”…

After nearly three hours of game… we were ahead… they were ahead… I forgot who was ahead… their coach forgot who was ahead… there was 1:12 left to play. Down one point. Our biggest, baddest player then fouled out. Oh shit. “Ceptin we represented a Baptist College, so I said “Oh shucks.”

“I can do it coach. I CAN DO IT” said the freshman seated next to me on the bench. “I can make it. I CAN MAKE IT.”

She was good. Very good. She came into the season rather cocky from being “IT” in high school… and was somewhat humbled after 25 games or so… Still, very good.

“Ok Terry… go in for Brocko.”

We whittled the clock down to twelve seconds… TIME OUT! TIME OUT!…

And we got it.

I have no idea what I said… what play I called.. I think it was for a big chick - one that could shoot free throws pretty decently.. “take it to the basket.. Worst case, you’ll get fouled.. Make the free throws and we celebrate.”

Shit. They had big chick smothered. She coulda been the campus ho, but there was just no way she was gettin’ it. I CAN DO IT, however, was open on the wing.

Tick, tick, tick.. Five seconds.. Another glance at Big Chick. Nope…. Whoosh.. Over to I CAN DO IT…

The catch.. Sets her feet.. Unleashes… I can’t watch.. I’m on one knee begging for a recount on Brocko’s foul total..

WHOOSSSSHHHHHH! YES. YES.. I CAN DO IT DID IT!

State Champions over Rocky Balboa. We beat Vince Lombardi. George Steinbrenner kiss my ass - we did it!

Afterwards.. (you see I had this little front.. I promised myself not to get too excited.. Or too down.).. I was standing on the sidelines whilst the chickies celebrated at center court.. Onea the dads walked up to me.. Hugged me… said “hey.. It’s ok.. You can smile now.”

I replay that moment more than “Hit the Road Jack” in 1963. Almost as much (but not quite) as carrying Maynard his first day on the planet.

“The first time”…

A speech I made on the Courthouse steps our Senior Year…

The day I asked whatshername (who later rode of on a Harley) for her hand in marriage…

The day my boss said “we’d like you to come to work for us.”

Christmas as a kid. Thanksgivings.. Family dinners as a youth.. The first drive at 16 I ever took. (“Victor.. I know tonight is Homecoming, and you just turned 16 today.. Just got your license TODAY… please stay in our home town, and don’t drive outside it. “K pops, will do.”.. Four hours later, I straddled a GD median on the Plaza - some 30 miles away.)

So you get the point. Moments in time. I’m certain you have yours.. I have many, thank goodness.

Our brains are a DVD we can format, play at will.

As we cronies sat around the table the other night… talking crap from long ago.. I’d heard the stories.. Forgotten a few even.. Life is cone-shaped. We have the base, and we think we’ll remember everything forever and ever. Then, as we age, that cone gets skinnier, and thinner, and the memory just doesn’t recoup as it once did.

So I’m here to say write it down. Blog about it. Put it in your diary. Discuss it. Share it. Expound on it even.

The day will come I won’t remember I CAN DO IT. But it’s saved up there now. Hit the road Jack. I’ve got a few more ice cream seasons left in me. Feeling better now Ethel.

May you, yes you, relive the good/great times over and over and over again. YOU CAN DO IT. I know you can.

WHOOSSSSHHHHHH! … Love, Victurd.