Old Man Winter………. please take a hike…….

Old Man Winter………. please take a hike…….
Oh but the seasons, I do all like

Freezing rain today – why Lord why?
Slide on roads, no matter the ply…..

Foota snow tomorrow,
Geez, such sorrow…….

Florida sounds nice, would ease my fears,
but.. just saw a friend, been there 5 years…
Her face, don’t shoot me, looked like that of a croc,
Darnit, drats, I’ll just stay here Doc….

Born here, raised here, bonified Midwest.
Annually though, a sincere great test..

I’d give anything to have a Van Winkle…
Long, long sleep, after a real good tinkle…

Set the phone to silence, ne’er a ring…..
Off to sleep, jualah, it’s Spring.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray not awakened by some humorous creep,
and if I die before I wake,
at least I’ve skipped winter, for Heaven’s sake…

Slip sliding away, today's word.
Have a great one, love Victurd

Ugh…

Forked over 3 quarters for today’s rendition of the Kansas City Star. Our little Midwestern mecca – occasionally a weird, weird place.

For starters.. Twenty-four year young man found dead on ground in Westport (popular young adult hangout area).. Appears he was leaving bar, late (or early, depending on how you look at 3am)… Hugging strangers.. Definitely tipsy… Bugged one fella.. “Gonna knock you out if you don’t leave”… Happened. Knocked him out with one punch – dead. Hitter walked off. Fortunately, thanks to $35,000 reward offered by parents, this person was found, and will go to trial.

Tummy upset yet? “Driver pleads guilty in fatal 152-MPH crash. This was in August of last year. He’d rear-ended a 22 year young gal that was set to graduate from college in December. I’m regretting spending my quarters.

“Baby’s Body Found in Truck Bed.” I didn’t even read the article.

60 year old Pizza Hut driver goes to door to deliver, met by 18 yr old female wearing a purple towel. That’s it. He’s suddenly pushed inside by purple-towel wearing’s 18 yr old boyfriend, hands duct-taped, all of $20 taken from him (and I suppose the pizza), thrown in the trunk of his own car.. dumped some thirty minutes later.

13 yr young girl paralyzed from waist down after sledding accident. Geez, how sad.

The read of the paper did end in some humor. (Sorry, I’m heap big MU fan).. “Ex-Ticket Director for the University of Kansas Athletic Department pleads guilty in her role of stealing, reselling over $2 MILLION dollars of tickets. Rock Chock Jayhawk$.

I’m old. People bemoaned the 60’s and the “Peace, love, not war.” The hair, the weird clothing, all that came with it. I’m beginning to think we’ve regressed in life. I’ve always lived “thirsty for news” and so, so enjoy the morning paper – but I’m thinking from here on out I may skip “The A section” and go directly to B.

Peace out. Make love, not war. Victurd.

Don't know much about history....

Weird. Do you ever start to clean out a room for the expressed intent of finding one specific object?... Twas me tonight as I perused the year I was born.. .after I got into it... I forgot whyinthehell/whatinthehell I was looking for...

Nonetheless... what followed was a recaptured blast from the past (Bonita Allen/James Nail/Naomi Johnson/Walter Cronkite/Dan Rather/"Baba Wawa"/Peter Jennings.. et all..)

I honestly forget "what happened - when", so it was kinda go back and 'relive'... have fun.....

1951
The rain falls for 40 days and the Great Flood in July inundates Armourdale and the West Bottoms again, affecting the packinghouse business directly. At least 5 people die. National Guard units take up positions to discourage looting. To better maintain order, Kansas City closes the taverns and package liquor stores. City crews, desperate to save the Municipal Air Terminal, dump junked cars onto the embattled levees to fight the surging water-and keep the airport dry. Many Kansas residents are left homeless and will be relocated to temporary homes in trailers located on the Old Homestead Golf Course. "Trailer City" will be occupied until Christmas of 1952. After the flood, the Health Department of Kansas City administers 111,711 vaccinations to prevent typhoid fever. No typhus outbreak occurs. A federal official compares the land to the bombed-out cities of Europe in World War II. A nonprofit collective called Disaster Corps Inc. is formed to donate man-hours and equipment for the cleanup. Remembering the test of the city's mettle in 1900 when the Convention Hall burned down 3 months before the Democratic National Convention, city officials make a point of renovating the American Royal facilities for the show, which open on time in the fall. The country marvels at the collective Kansas City character. Illustrator Norman Rockwell paints "The Kansas City Spirit," showing a worker rolling up his sleeves while holding a blueprint. Joyce Hall prints it on 20,000 brochures distributed across the county. Riverside, Prairie Village, Mission, Merriam, Roeland Park, and Countryside are all incorporated.

January, 1952.. A man and woman smooch in St. Louis.(Ed/Velma Schultze) 9 months later, son born.

1955 Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat.... Polio vaccine...

1957 May, 20th. An F5 tornado rips through Ruskin Heights leaving 44 dead and another 500 injured

1958/59.. Welcome Alaska/Hawaii...

1960'a... Teachers made $5,174/year.. Psycho released...

1961 Bay of Pigs... Peace Corps founded..

1962.. Marilyn Monroe found dead...

1963.. JFK assasinated.. .. MLK “I have a Dream”speech..

1964 Chicago millionaire insurance man, Charles O. Finley, owner of the Kansas City Athletics, brings the Beatles to Kansas City. He pays the group $150,000 for a 31-minute concert at Municipal Stadium. About 20,000 people attend the concert on September 17th--fewer than half the available seats are filled.

1965 LA Riots

1966 Mass draft protests...

1967 First Super Bowl...

1968 MLK assassinated..

1969 Neil Armstrong, first man on moon.... Woodstock... Hi Sesame Street..

1970 KC Population reaches 507,330. The Kansas City Chiefs beat the Minnesota Vikings in Super Bowl IV, 23 to 7.... Beatles breakup...

1972 MASH premiers... Spitz, 7 Gold... Watergate..

1973 Crown Center opens, changing the face of Midtown... We're outta Viet Nam.. .

1974 Patty Hearst kidnapped... Nixon resigns...

1975.. Microsoft founded..

1977... Long live the king (Elvis found dead). Roots... Star Wars.. Brush Creek ravages the Plaza after a savage thunderstorm dumps torrents of water on Kansas City on September 12th. 24 die and property owners suffer $94 million in damages.

1978.. Babies now come in test tubes.. Hi Pope John Paul II

1979 The Kemper Arena roof collapsed in a violent thunderstorm, accompanied by strong winds and heavy rain. Fortunately on the night of the storm Kemper was empty.

1980 John Lennon assassinated.. CNN/Ted Turner emerge.. . Mt St. Helens spews..

1981 The suspended walkways at the one year old Hyatt Regency hotel collapse during a tea-dance party being held in the atrium lobby. 114 dead, over 200 injured... Pac Man... Charles/Di marry, millions watch...

1982 ET phone home.. “Thriller” released.. .Vietnam War Memorial opened in DC..

1983 Cabbage Patch... Sally Ride..

1984: PG-13 created..

1985 The Kansas City Royals win the World Series. The downtown loop experiences an increase in new construction and the restoration of older neighborhoods... My son Dru was born...Bret Saberhagen's son Drew born... New Coke..

1986 Chernobyl.. Challenger explodes..

1988 The Steamboat Arabia is found buried in farmland 1/2 mile south of the Missouri River. In the worst loss to the city's fire department since 1959, an Ammonium Nitrate explosion kills 6 firefighters responding to a fire at a construction site near 87th and 71 Hwy. 9 years later, 5 people are convicted of setting the fires in the truck trailers containing explosive ammonium nitrate.

1989 Berlin Wall falls..

1990 Mandela freed.. Hubble in space...

1991 Desert Storm

1992 Rodney King verdict spurs LA riots..

1993 World Trade Center bombed.. Lorena Bobbitt.. well... she “lops” it...

1994 OJ.. oh my.. arrested for double murder..

1995 Ok City bombed..

1997 Princess Di car fatal car
wreck.. Tiger wins Masters..

1998 Clinton Impeached.. . Coincidentally, Viagra marketed..

1999 What the hell is “The Euro?”

2001 Al Qaeda/Word Trade..

2002 An ice storm interrupts power to 387,000 area homes, damages trees, closes schools and businesses, knocks out streetlights, and causes runs in area stores on candles, sleeping bags, lamp oil, and generators. All the motel rooms are taken. 300 out-of-state utility crews from 12 states work 16-hour days to restore power. The cost of recovery after the storm is estimated at 20 million

2003.. March 20, War on Iraq... Hi MySpace... Facebook launched..

2005.. Katrina... Youtube...

2007 iPhone..

2008 Stock market crashes and the Dow Jones tumbles from a historic high of 14198.10
in October 2007 to 7449 in December 2008

2009 Two of America’s ‘Big Three’ car makers, Chrylser and General Motors, go
through bankruptcy proceedings...........

2011 (or 2012) Victor finds love of his life, makes him easily forget whatshername and whatshername.

Sticky notes and life....

It's my desire of course, that I'm thought of in goodness – but, I admittedly slip a tad in cleanliness. Allover my cubicle, desk, computer monitor – I have sticky note reminders for this, that, upcoming, “don't forget”, on such-n-sucha date.... Have admittedly saved me some embarrassing moments if I were to have forgotten this/or that about a Military member's shipment (and it's timeliness)...

Life's all about reminders.. The guy that delivers mail at our work. Smile a MILE wide – all the time. Christmas time. He was back, for the second time – walking from his vehicle to our door, arms extended all the way below his waist – packages from his fingertips all the way up to his infectious smile. “The hell's wrong with you,” I asked... “It's Christmas time, you're a letter carrier, you CAN'T be happy?”... Grin got even wider... “OH NOOOOO... I LOVE CHRISTMAS! It's a choice!”.. . His sticky note, when he awakens, assuredly says something along the lines of “God's given me another, help make it great!”... and he does...

A not so great sticky note this morning.... Learned of the passing last night of our beloved Sigma Nu brother Mark Middleton. Taken way too young by cancer... He's in Heaven (absolutely wonderful) and he's no longer in pain, very thankfully.

I read his wife's Caring Bridge post to share this – wow, what a remarkable lady... and as I read it, (and the notes to the family in the Guestbook) I was literally brought to tears.. PPPPLEASE!!!! NOOOOO!!!! SAY IT AIN'T SO!!! I've missed so many years of his life! I wanna talk to him, I wanna shake his hand again, I'd love to share a beer, or a Pepsi again... I'd love to talk to him on the phone... sit in the same golf cart... tease unmercifully back and forth again like the good ole days... See his quick, HUMONGOUS (and also infectious) smile again.....

Hi-rickety was our Sigma Nu song... In the Caring Bridge Guestbook this morning, one of our Brothers wrote “I believe there was a loud “Hi Rickety” for Brother P (part of his nickname) at the pearly gates...”.. The song included “and at the Gates we meet Saint Pete, and he's a Sigma Nu...”

Mark Middleton – rest in peace my friend. I loveya and your zest for life. I hope one day we're reunited...

Please remember, I write to me. Hitchhikers welcome. Victor, please allow this not-so-great sticky note news to make you immerse yourself in smile with whatever time you're afforded here. Please remember, each and every day of your life – along the way, things aren't always going to go in the direction you desire. Folks won't always respond/react how you'd like them to. That's Ok – remember to remember the good.

When you open your eyes and look out, you have a choice as to what you see and how it goes through your brain. Choose happy, smile, positive as Mark and the USPS guy have.. If you come across those frustrating moments life throws at you, don't “hit back”, choose your words wisely... take a deep breath and allow the right thing to come out of your mouth (or sometimes even simply nothing at all)....

Treasure time, for we don't know the ultimate time-table we're on – that's not in our hands – but every remaining waking moment is. Victor, I suggest on your sticky note you write something along the lines of “Life, and how we live it, is a choice. Time too, is precious, use it wisely.” In Sigma Nu Honor, and in loving memory of Mark Middleton.

Later........

All you happily married fo'er and e'er, this might not be your watoosie, cup of tea... but any slackers, singles (like muah) along the way – mebbe cause for hope.

To The Dish Pizza joint tonight. NO VICTOR, NOT YOU? THE ONE WHO GOES THERE DAMN NEAR EVERY NIGHT? Bite me, yes.

Very crowded. Friday's always are. Nexta my longtime runnin' buddy to my left.. Four open chairs to my right around the horseshoe bar.

Couple I'd seen time and agin' in there – but ne'er close enough to say “hey”/introduce, takes the two chairs to my right. I'd always admired them each/and their 'coupledom'..... laid back... wonderful smiles.. no hurry in life. Perfect together.

The gal was next to me. So we talked life. Parents. (She's got her mom, tween the three of us, the only parent left). Dementia, sad. Shared stories about that – sad, but accompanied by the occasional “ya just haveta laugh” stuff.

I guessed they'd met in HS some 35 or so years ago, as they seemed embedded in love. Not so, she related. Together 12 years. (She fitty-four, he, I ain't sure)... She from NC. Married, moved to TX. Her man then, insteada putting both hands on the lawnmower/keyboard, put them around her neck. I forget how she made the move from TX to MO, but it was a blessing.

Her brother was in town from NC visiting. He struck up conversation with a guy at same joint, approximately his sister's age... digits exchanged... and they (the gal to my right and her main man) haven't been apart a day since. 12 years. Far, far, out. And happy. And comfy. I truly admire their relationship, as do they.

In walks J & G. Admittedly, many past hours visiting with these folks. Perty much, same thing. Always happy, always jovial. Laughter insteada bitching. Asked tonight (finally) “so how'd you guys meet?”.. “She was my secretary in Oklahoma”.. AHA... so.... fastforward to seedy thoughts thru the brain.. I KNOW, I KNOW... YOU HAD A LOCK ON YOUR OFFICE DOOR DIDN'T YA? (He was married, but it was going “South”)

“No Vic, didn't... In fact, we never got together back then... Once my family split, after a bit, I did call her... I can't remember what day it was... She'd moved to Missouri... She said, “why don't you drive on up tonight?”.. and... I made a 4+ hour drive in about 3 hrs and fitteen minutes.”

AHA! So THAT was the night you smooched, said your “Oh baby's” and stuff eh? “Actually Vic, no... The first 5 or 6 trips up I went to see her, I always got a Motel room.. and no, no smooching (prolonged) together.” So, the idiot in me thinks “You drove ALL THE WAY from Oklahoma to Missouri, yet, you didn't 'oh baby, oh baby'?”

No, sorry. We didn't. And as that sunk in, far, far, out again.

Both of these couples within a few years of muah. Both, extremely happy. Content. There's no moving down the road (as far as mates.. who knows about retirement.)

Both couples, to observe 'em, you'd think “hmmmm, longterm, perfect together... fitting”... but nope – recent – if 12 years or so can be considered recent.

About 44 years ago, the Little League team I played on was “The Liberty Optimists”.. I had no friggin' idea what this meant. I figured it had something to do with eyesight.

Tonight, visiting with “they're hella old, like me, found love late, seemingly very damn good, ain't headed anywhere else, I love her/he” - twas a feel good.

Once again, I am a Liberty Optimist. Damnit. Wherethehellareya? Come, undress me. (Just kidding, kinda sorta.)... But (again with apologies to Mrs. Sumpter who said “you CAN'T start a sentence with 'But')... but... I do think one day it will happen. She will appear. Or, I will stumble upon her.

So... mebbe dementedly, I hope to hookup, learn all about you, treasure (for some years) in some travail's together, and then.....as we age... slowly, forget 'em all! (jk)..

Later... as in “seeya”... but too, later as in later in life. Life, regardless if “later” ever/never happens, is a very good thing. Reckon hope is ok though, eh?

Love, Victurd

Schoeller's

Liberty has, I guess, come full cycle... Bigger/better.. at least as far as Supermarkets are concerned....

Whilst our town is (still) adapting from “size 30” jeans (population 5,000) to hella “42 inch waist” (2 high schools, 48 stoplights, population “who knows").... we've seen this grocery chain, that location, this special, that ad – change, for many a many year....

Today... THE top end Grocery opened – mega mart, (The Sam's Club to the regular ole WalMart world) - and, they topped off history, yes, of course (and thankfully), by hiring Mr. William Schoeller to be the greeter at the door upon entry.

Schoeller's (circa 60's/70's) for years, managed/owned by Bill/family, was “IT" as far as groceries in our fine town back in the day... the day of leaded fuel, and gas pumps that were only capable of going up to .99 cents. Many a family shopped there – many a smile/wonderful treatment from ownership/family/employees – and many a friend enabled, under their employ, to makes ends meet/get ahead – helping to make the transition from youth to adult. Nice.

One'a my all-time favorite hometown guys was (and is... 'was' only 'cause no longer with us).. Ron Schoeller (son of Bill). . Ron lived “nice”.... Ron lived “smile”.. Ron, taken from us all too damn soon, was simply one of the nicest guys I've ever met.

We played softball together for years..... Ron 'managed' our team (which is fancy for “please make sure they don't have too many beers in between tournament games so they can stay competitive”)... and he did... and it (softball) meant THE WORLD to him... Famous for 'pacing' (in worry “about this, about that”) but you NEVER caught/heard a terse word from Ron....

Once the mega-box stores eventually ran the little guys (including Schoellers) out of business... Ron went to work as a letter carrier for the Postal Service... So happened, he delivered to the street I/we lived on.

We had this little “mostly Poodle” hound named Magic – that loved the outdoors – so, we'd chain Magic up to the tree in the middle of our yard... Magic “no likey” anyone besides us.. For example... College kid, parking car out front: ARRRRFFF ARRRRFFFF..relentless.. .hyper, bent-outa-shape, as if to say “get the hell outta my neighborhood.” Lady walking dog down street.. Oh hell...We truly considered asking vet for doggy valium, as Magic JUST couldn't handle it all....

Magic wore a circular path around the tree we chained him too...... Ronnie could easily spot exactly "how close" he could walk to make it from our yard, to our next door neighbors, without Magic feasting on his calf muscle... This went on (and on and on) for years... Magic would get "this close" (holding up a thumb and forefinger) but never to the 'devour' closeness... Over the course of time, we'd tease about it verbally back and forth when I was outside and Ron happened by with the mail....

A bit later... we moved... Ron, no longer our carrier... darnit.. even a bit later... we'd won some championship of some softball league/tourney – SO... everyone invited (and came) over to our new house after, for BBQ, a few beers, backyard fun, and a dip in the pool.

At one point, I think I counted 42 people on the back deck. Magic was AOK with this new fenced back yard. He could roam free without chain, so he wasn't quite as consternated by visitors...

Ron, dressed in softball duds, mingled in and out of the crowd – and as he did, Magic paid NO attention. After forty-five minutes or so, Ron (with beer in left hand, and BBQ sandwich in right) said (very excitedly) “VIC... MAGIC DOESN”T RECOGNIZE ME!!!!!" and produced the largest Ron Schoeller smile I'd ever seen).. And... Magic, upon hearing that voice, the one “FOR YEARS, I WANTED TO EAT THIS GUY!” voice, OF COURSE – IMMEDIATELY went after Ron.. a jawlock on his right calf muscle.. Ron was torn between laughing his ass off and pain – as were we all!

Took five of us to pull Magic off Ronnie.. and I think we may have missed retrieving an incisor or two of Magic's from Ron's leg.....

It was onea the funnest moments of my life, so, thought I'd stop and share. Why good, good people are taken so/too soon is beyond me... God Blessya Ron Schoeller, we miss you. Love, Victurd

Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry...

Honk is a fun word. Can be. Of course we think of the car horn. We're generally more conservative in the process of a thought going to the brain, transcending down and out through the mouth. But (With apologies to Mrs. Sumpter who said “you can't start a sentence with 'but' “), but, in the millisecond it takes to see something whilst driving – the short distance between the horn and the hand make us 'bypass' this "should I/should I not" decision.

We're fast. Normally, honking is saying “YOU IDIOT!”.. I hasten to guess 7 outta 10 honkers are nerdy little folks who grew up in the world of, and at the mercy of, the bully. NUH UH... NOT NOW... I'VE GOT 4 WHEELS TOO! WE'RE EQUAL! I'VE HAD ALL CAN TAKES AND I CAN'T TAKES NO MORE!

Honking can lead to road rage, speeds 20 to 30 mph over the posted limit, tailgating, and, an occasional fistfight were the nerd is oft times brought back to reality.

Oh sure, we honk to 'warn' of danger.... we honk to say “hey” to a friend. Honking is somewhat based upon the town size. Why, back in my day... when Liberty (my hometown) was perty small... small enough, that whenever you did something that should get you in trouble – virtually every parent in town knew in a heartbeat. With less people, more friendly honking. With the population sparse, you honked/waved at about every third car.

Now. Town grown. You honk because you're pissed. Growth ain't necessarily sad, but sometimes results of are.

Tangent. Sorry (apologizing to me). I got off on a tangent. Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry. Geese are honkers. At work, on smoke break, I get in big trouble 'cause I relate to those around (whenever a flock goes by) "the honking, that's how you tell which ones are female."

Coming home today, the back route into this town I still love – mebbe 300 geese pasturing in the field next to the road. Allofa sudden, they scurried. Mebbe the head goose honked “it's time, let's go”... An amazing sight 300 geese taking off at the same time........ VERY close they were to the car...

Tangent. Sorry again Victor. It reminded me (and I know I've told this story before – but, remember “I'm old” - permissible) of being at Universal Studios in Florida.. Walked into this huge theater.. They passed out 3-D glasses. The movie: The Birds. Lil ole man infronta me, mebbe 80. Movie started, wasn't long before a kajillion birds were COMING RIGHT AT YOU... lil ole man ducks, in protection he throws up his hands, swats with his left, right, left, right... I was rolling!

Back to road today, 300 geese in flight. I'll be damned if they didn't turn and follow the road in the same direction I was... I giggled, remembered the ole man, then thought “oh no, please not my windshield”.. Yep, you guessed it, a big ole SPLAT!..

Giggled again. Can you imagine how wonderful it would be to have the ability to fly and poop on whomever/wherever you wanted? Two examples popped RIGHT into my head. There's a coworker (and I like this person!) who keeps (his/her.. haha... you gotta guess!) car IMMACULATE. Even the tires... Yep, I'd fly right over that puppy and grunt. I guess you could say that would be being anal about anal.

The second... my two cousins and I were in the Five and Dime when when we were probably 7 to 10-ish. Old lady clerk in there swore she saw one of us steal – of all things, a needle to put air into our football. We hadn't done so, but she lined all three of us up, and one by one she reached into our pockets and searched for the needle. Would never happen today, but did that day. If I were "with flight", the ability to poop on whomever I wanted – I woulda followed this lady home and grunted as she made the dash from her car to her house.

Honk is fun. Honk if you love Jesus. Honk if you love beer. Honk of you love hooters. (Looka the honkers on her!).. Beep beep my ass. Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry. Love, VicWouldntItBeWonderfulToFlyAndTurd.

Carpe Diem......

“Used as an admonition to seize the pleasures of the moment without concern for the future.”

I'm a simpleton. First year'a college, 1.6 GPA. Sure, living in Maryville, MO, having on-again-off-again girlfriend back home contributed, but, admittedly, I ain't book smart. So, no laughing allowed when I say I Googled “Carpe Diem”.........

Far out. That sentence up there OOZES of the feeling of this age, the now, the compilation of yesterdays, the uncertainty of tomorrow – so, “by golly THIS is gonna be a good day, I don't care what you say!”....

In earlier/younger days.. usedta compose a list of “Have to's” weekly. Fix the wobbly dining room chair.. the damn drip in the bathroom faucet... City Spring cleanup – get ridda that stuff you ain't touched since '78... reopen the budget spreadsheet – fine tooth comb.

Huh uh. Not now. I'm old. Hopefully with young brain, but I'm old. Seizing moment. “Have to's” are things like bodily functions. For example, at the Piggly Wiggly tonight.. Fast pace to men's restroom. Damn snotnose right infronta me. Worked there. I just know the little turd was sneaking a cig in there 'cause he took FOREVER. Proud to report, I am STILL very adept at 'the pee pee dance.” Old, young brain, some tap-dancin'.

Plan the day? The weekend? Nah. Too stressy. Que sera sera (uh huh, you guessed it, Googled it. Originally spelled it kay cira cira, Google asked me if I meant “que sera sera”... God Bless Google.

Victor, you really should clean the damn house. No thanks, instead, I think I'm gonna do 4 Sudoku puzzles, play 37 games of Solitaire, diss 5 or 6 friends on Facebook, and forward 12 reasonably funny emails. Carpe Diem baby, Que sera sera.

Which (aging) reminds me. Why is it, as we age, we shrink - yet, the GD (gosh darn) shoelaces seemingly get farther and farther and farther away monthly?

Work: someone says “you really should.............” You stop, think inside.. “bite me.. I've worked here __ amounta years, please go do your own GD (gosh darn) job, and lemme man the steering wheel here as – you're driving me crazy.” With advance apologies to any ex-inlaws that may swing by, but it really pisses 'em (co-workers) off if I say “thanks Marilyn, but I'll call the shots on this.”

Aging makes us fall in love with the sayings “because I can”... “watch me”.. “that's the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard”.. and “sorry, I don't wanna.”

Aging is hitting the snooze button however many damn times you wanna, even if you're in a situation where it may mean taking a shortened lunch 'cause you're late. Aging is sitting at the damn computer – realizing it's (oh shit) 11:30pm, and your alarm clock is due to go off in 6 hours – and......... you don't give a rat's ass! The fun you had from normal bedtime until now otherwise woulda been lost forever in REM's... you lived! You did! Without concern for the future!...

Aging is growing up in a wonderful nuclear/extended family. Having them as friends on the site Facebook, and risking them being aghast that Velma's boy would actually type the 'd-word', the 's-word'.. and I think once I even saw the 'f-word'... and... you think.. “I'm old. It's me. I love them, they know that, and I'm human. They won't hate me (I don't think.)”

Aging is loving seeing younger folks go thru the stuff you did. Kids. Work ladder climbing (or attempting to).. Dealing with us older turds. Trying to understand why us older turds can be so grumpy. (With our hideous Midwest weather, Tuesday morning my car wouldn't start... wind chill somewhere between 0 and National deficit. Gas line froze I think. I got three candles out.. opened hood. Strategically placed them where it wouldn't catch the car on fire – closed hood – went back inside for more Sudoko, Solitaire, dissing friends on FB, forwarding stupid/fun emails. (Aging also includes looking at a paragraph, thinking “it's too damn big, but if I start a new one, they may get lost.”... then rethinking.. “I don't give a rats -whilst I do love them, I'm here for me. Hitchhikers welcome.” So, jualah, new paragraph.

Hi, how are you? Wherethehell was I? (Another aging thing.) Oh yeah, the candles under the hood. (Yes, sadly true).. Cha-ching, basta fired right up some 30 minutes later.. Rolled into work, albeit 30 minutes late. (This bothers one less as we age. “By God, it's friggin 12 degrees below zero, feel honored I even made it in!”)...

Victor, you're on your 3rd paragraph and you've yet to explain the old/grumpy connection... Ok, thanks Marilyn.. So... the candle/frozen gasoline day.. lunchtime, I go to Advance Auto.. purchase a thinga “Heet”.. A DOLLAR NINETY-NINE!... “Why, back in my day, I can remember buying that crap for fitty-nine cents!”.. I think I repeated that story twice that afternoon, but that's ok, 'cause that's onea the great things about aging, we can do that shit – be repetitive. People normally don't say “we know, you told us”.. they're polite (because we're old), they listen.. and we brandish the story each and every time as if it's the first time outta our mouth.

I'm rambling. Sorry. Kinda. But too, I'm old. I/we old folks do that. What's more, we don't care if you care. It's like what we related to Charlie Weis, the Chief's offensive coordinator who upset the apple cart and announced he was leaving two weeks before our playoff game: “Don't let the door hit you in the ass.” (Sorry relatives, I've added the A-word to the list. My bad.)

Old age is wunnerful. Young punks say stuff that might peeve you off, but, you realize you're too slow to catch 'em in a foot-race – so, water offa duck's back. Who cares?

I may go to bed now. I may play Sudoku, Solitaire. I may go flirt. I may go clean the kitchen (HA!).......It's my hope, as you age, you think it's the rage too. Love, Victurd.

When the night has come

And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No, I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
So, darling, darling

Caring Bridge. I hope you haven't had to experience what it is – but if you have, you know it's ALL ABOUT Stand By Me.. Fraternity brother from several decades ago beset with present day health issues – amazing to read his wife's journal... she demonstrates patience, hope, faithfulness (both to he and her Maker), a sense of humor – 'twould really be hard to 'paint a better picture' of wife/stand by me than what she demonstrates. Ya gotta love love. (And the outpouring of well wishers, friends, family, their kid's friends, college 'brothers', fellow church goers...)

Stand by me
Oh, stand by me
Oh, stand
Stand by me
Stand by me

To me, this song isn't only about 'boy-girl' relationships, it's about friends, family, coworkers (former/present), fraternity/sorority bros/sis's, school classmates, one's “family” built over a lifetime... even this 'new' method of communique – Facebook.

If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
Or the mountains should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
And, darling, darling

Today is yesterday zooming in in a heartbeat – and it's like a day was never missed. It's walking down the hall at work extending a hand for a high five... It's meeting an old schoolmate for a beer, a friend for a game of golf, a phone call to a loved one, a text, a 'posting'...

Stand by me
Oh, stand by me
Oh, stand
Stand by me
Stand by me

Darling, darling

Stand by me
Oh, stand by me
Oh, stand
Stand by me
Stand by me

Stand by me is forever, in sickness and in health. In youth and in old age. In this city, in that city. Your time zone, my time zone. We are fortunate in that “we get it”, that bond, that “I'll be there forever, even if calendar days pass.” Ben E. King wrote this song in 1961. Relatives, older friends demonstrated and handed down stand by me. It is a very rich, rewarding feeling to have one stand by me, and to stand by one. Life, living – rocks.

Season of the witch

When I look out my window,
Many sights to see.
And when I look in my window,
So many different people to be
That it's strange, so strange.

Ya gotta love this song. Well, reckon you don’t have to, but I do. Donovan’s song is a weird one, but, weird is right up my alley.. Looked on web for interpretations – various. “Paranoia”.. “Perhaps an acid trip”..

You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Mm, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.

Picking up every stitch is said to be a knitting term, and one suggested it was a mental patient looking out the window, knitting.

When I look over my shoulder,
What do you think I see ?
Some other cat looking over
His shoulder at me
And he's strange, sure he's strange.

S’more paranoia.. Looking over shoulder. Seems we spend our lives looking over our shoulder. Locking our doors. Finding a convenient, yet safe, place to park. Goofing off at work, an occasional peek over shoulder. Opening an email a friend sent and they didn’t explain in advance it was “R-rated”..

Also kinda liked Teddy Roosevelt’s “It’s terrible to look over your shoulder when you’re trying to lead – and find no one there.”.. Satchel Paige’s “Don't look back. Something may be gaining on you."


You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch.

The wonderful consensus of those “professional ‘interpret this song’ interpreters” was that “rabbits running in the ditch” simply rhymed.

When I look.
When I look out my window,
What do you think I see ?
And when I look in my window,
So many different people to be
It's strange, sure it's strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.
When I look, when I look.

Actually, looking out our windows is so very different for us each. Not only what we see, but how we interpret it. Our ‘take’. We all “see the cover” and define “the book” by that. Jump to conclusion, or, stand back and ‘cipher awhile – perhaps whilst we pick up every stitch.

Her opine, his opine, my opine, your opine. Same world, different views from window. So many different people to be, it’s strange, sure it’s strange.

Those of us old farts “from the 60’s, 70’s” see out our window that we grew up in the greatest musical era EVER. Our view, our take. Being from this era – we share a unique take on things. We lived the Cuban Missile Crisis, JFK’s assassination, Black and White TV, black and white separation – and finally unity, the Beatles, every damn possible way to play a musical song there is….. victrola, 45, 33, 8 tracks, cassettes, CD, IPod, yada, yada. When some looked out the window, us kids were out playing in the yard. Yain’t seeing that much nowadays. Same world, different views from the window. A changing society, continually.

Ok, call ‘em “biased windows”.. Why, BACK IN MY DAY… hehe.. I drove up to Windys yest to grab a bite (Double-stackers, yum yum, highly recommend ‘em!) and the little gal at the window – mebbe 16 (mebbe not) had probably 17 tattoos, including 4 from the neck up.. Uh oh. I stopped just short of slapping myself.. “book/cover”.. Damn you Victor, your hair was down to your shoulders in 1972. REMEMBER? How YOU hated that view of old farts when they looked out the window at you? So, tattooed 16 year old with 17 tattoos, I apologize. I don’t know every stitch about you.

Rambling, sorry. I’ll scram. Enjoy the view from your window. ‘Sides, looking over my shoulder, betta get back to work. Do you retired folks look over your shoulder? Pick up every stitch?

Love, Victurd.

Over the river and through the woods.......... (and outta the handbasket).....

“Stressy” (I will always love my ex, and this is onea my favorite 'sayings' she usedta spout.. “Stressy”).. “Depressing”... DON'T write about that crap (Emmett Kelly, SR.. “the tear”).. , write about happy stuff....

Hmmmm... k... Gotta buddy on Facebook, that shared a pic of his grandmother holding him in her arms on their farm in 1954. Same grandma, same farm today. January 4, 2011, the family will go to her house in celebration of her 100th birthday. THAT'S perty happy.

Two high school buddies (Jim/Ray [“Carl” back in the day]) sharing a birthday today. Twenty years ago, who'da known – today, hopefully when they get up and see their FB, smiles derived from their well-wishers.

THIS Father's Day, once again, the “Family Reunion” is resurrected. The setting is a pretty as any you'll see ANYWHERE in the US. An old grist mill, converted into a homestead, a wonderful one at that. Even wonderfuller (that a word?), the folks who resurrected the mill... 2nd cousin Jeannie and her hubby Jim. One whole weekend of nothing but love, fellowship, war stories, and prolly some potato salad (and refreshments.) That's happy.

Watching paint dry? HUH? Well.. if I told you how exciting watching someone sleep was yesterday, you'd call me nuts. To visit 3 day old g-baby, she/mom, fast asleep on the couch. Minutes – many, I stared in awe. Births are a miracle – that's happy.

The Chiefs. Division Champs. Happy.

Nine old-timers, included – former mayor, chief of police, City Department heads... assembled around a table drinking coffee this morning at Ronald McDonalds. That's happy. LIVING, loving, sharing, laughing.

A car that starts every time. A warm house to enter from the elements. An article in the KC Star about a preacher (white dude) that grew up somewhere back East. His nuclear family beset with problems. Hard for him to gain acceptance. Was “found” in an inner city Church (primarily black) – since retired from a long, joyous ride there. Farm out. Happy. Why can't we be friends, why can't we be friends. See? We CAN! Happy.

If you ever get a moment to roam the halls of Truman Medical Center in KCMO, I suggest you do so. Hallway, perhaps 50 yards long or so – the history, year by year, of Kansas City from it's inception from 1850-something to present day. The left side of the hallway (inception to late 50's) is “Emmett Kelly, Sr.” “Stressy.” Sad. “The tear.” It speaks of Hospital #1 (for whites) and Hospital #2 (for blacks.).. The Negro Leagues baseball. Segregation. Sad. Wrong. Not happy. Other side of the hallway – we wise up. Can't erase yesterday – but can change today/tomorrow – and it happened. A long lists of “firsts”.. First Doctor. First Baseball player. First Mayor, etc, etc. First is sad to think of, but so, so right – so that's happy. Again, traverse it – it's emotional.

A new year. We're here. In and of itself, that's happy. (KC Star obits 3 pages today, we're lucky.) Some will actually follow through with “I promise to, in this new year........” tasks, goals, reshapings, attitudes, ethics, do-goods, etc etc yada yada. Kudos to those that do – and even if never getting past the planning stages – self improvement going thru the brain is a good, happy thing.

Google. Google is happy. Remember staring at 27 volumes of Encyclopedias where you sat intimidated... “Oh my, just whereinthehell, whichinthehell one do I start with to see if I can learn about..........”.. Google is an Encyclopedia whoooooooooosh from the fingertips. Fast is happy (Ok, sure, can thinka one or two things where fast ain't necessarily a good thing... but when attempting to learn, fast is good...) [Perverts!]

So I Googled “Reasons to be happy” - and presto.. Page upon page of results. I jumped to the second one.. “100 Reasons To Be Happy Today”... I will bore ya with the first few:

Every new day is another chance to change your life. (But I'll admonish – if you like it as is, then status quo works too!)

This day is an opportunity to be better than yesterday. (Me and Emmett agree).

You have great friends.

You can learn a new thing today.

The summer is coming soon. (You “Coast'ers, Southerners, we envy you... but too, our weather here in the Midwest mebbe makes us appreciate 'the good' that much more I reckon.)

You are unique.

You can feel emotions.. (OHHH, I likes that one.)

There is only one now.

There is something good in every day.

Ok............. I'll stop..... but Emmett and I thought we'd better stand on our heads today so it appears to be a smile... and it's working.. The Indian blood in me makes me red-faced anyways, no one will ever know the difference.

I wasn't really a fan of Dr. Laura... in fact, I kinda despised her. VICTOR!! This is SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY. Sorry. Kinda. Not only was I comforted when she finally signed off – but, I actually kinda liked the way she did so: “Now go on, take on the day.”

The day is a canvas, and we gots the keys to the paintbrushes. I suck at art, but I can draw a smile easy enough. Thanks to my eyeballs, I gravitate to folks that seemingly always have a smile affixed to their face. Gas station across from the City Park. Gal in there – you couldn't get her to stop smiling. I love that, her. Life is for smiling. Sorry for the respite Emmett... Life is good......... and there's happy within.

Love, Victurd.