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.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Saturday, December 03, 2011
Hello... Sarah?
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.
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.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Go ahead, make my day…..
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.
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.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Oldzheimers...
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.
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.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
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
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.
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.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
I like going downhill just fine.
“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.
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.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Occupy this.......
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.
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.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Hurt good…..
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.
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.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
No streaming please..........
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 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.
Tuesday, November 08, 2011
I’m afraid of women. I am (said lovingly)……
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.
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.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
As lock would have it...
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
31 years ago, Don sang....
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
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
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
For me…. hitchhikers welcome…..
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.
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.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Hip Hip Hooray!
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
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
Saturday, October 08, 2011
How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?
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.
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.
Thursday, October 06, 2011
Piss & Vinegar.. quick one......
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
Past tense.........
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).....
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).....
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Forever young, or, wishful thinking?
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
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
Monday, September 26, 2011
Egg McMuffins and Grumpy Old Men...
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)
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)
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Hello Lord... If it's Ok by You, I'm taking the day off tomorrow....
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”!)
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”!)
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
It ain't necessarily all about Andy, Aunt Bea and Opie......
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.
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.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Magic Bus
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
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
Monday, September 05, 2011
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 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
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)
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
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
Saturday, September 03, 2011
Fun car ride....
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
50 ways to see your city...
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
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
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
FUN BUS TOUR.. FRIDAY 9/9.. 5:30P-7:30P (Class of '70, or thereabouts)
(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
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
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
One man's tribute.. sad, yet so beautiful....
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.
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.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
I don’t know what I’d do……..
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
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
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