End of an Era

It seems everything has a shelf life. Everything has its 15 minutes in the sun. Just like a season, it has to pass. It kind of saddens me to write about this, and I'm sorry if it bums you out momentarily, but I feel its only appropriate to give due recognition to my clock radio. My grandma bought it for me in 1986, as a Christmas gift, and has been serving me faithfully ever since. It saddens me because it could be the last thing I own from the greatest decade ever, - the 80's! Actually, I acquired a wife in the 80's, but she would be upset if I compared her to an object. Nonetheless, I've had the radio longer than my wife! So my point is, my beloved, faithful, bedside table, companion may be on its last leg. The radio portion doesn't really work anymore, but it was never good quality sound, even in 1986. Its main function was to wake me up. So this morning, instead of the familiar old buzz, buzz, buzz, alerting me to my senses, I could hear something like static disturbing my last few seconds of REM, like someone searching for a station on the AM band, in the middle of Nebraska's sandhills. I awoke to my beloved radio struggling to get an annoying noise out, to rustle me from sleep. I felt sorry for it, like when your dog gets so old, it can barely walk. You know its time left here on earth is short. I did some math to help bring things into perspective. You have to realize though, the snooze button and on/off switch, have been pushed at least 5200 times. Its hard to pinpoint exactly, because you have to factor in leap years, the mornings I didn't want to get out of bed, and hit the 'snooze' more than once, the times I may have been out of town, and was unfaithful to my radio by using another one. But still, roughly 5200 times! I'm sure my wife is going to read this, and my poor dying clock radio will receive its death knell. I just hope it receives a better parting than say, my Vans, Chuck Taylors, Ocean Pacific shirts, Members Only jacket, etc., etc. I'm pretty sure the Vans and Chuck Taylors have disintegrated and are part of the soil by now. In fact, they were falling apart by the time I was finished wearing them. The Ocean Pacific shirts were probably torn into strips and used to wash cars, wipe up paint spills, or clean the grease off of auto parts in a garage. The Members Only jacket, if its still in existence, is probably being worn by a homeless person. As long as he's experiencing the magic and groovin' the girls, I'm OK with that. But wait! As I sit here writing, it dawns on me that I still own my Coleco head to head football game! It still works like its supposed to. All hope of the greatest decade is not lost! Anyone up for a game? What?! You wold rather play Madden?

When I Grow Up

A young boy, or even a young girl for that matter, has dreams of being several different things when they grow up. Very few individuals are so extremely focused, that they end up being what they dreamed of at the age of ten. Grandpa was a diesel mechanic and the patriarch of our family, so of course I want to be just like Grandpa. When I was old enough to start helping work on vehicles, I realized this wasn't really my cup of tea. I stuck with it for as long as I could possibly tolerate, but I was still searching and dreaming. I helped my uncle for a short time, in his auto body shop. The only thing I enjoyed about that was the paycheck, and being located half a block away from Orsi's bakery. I mowed some lawns, and also worked for a lawnmower repair shop. Didn't really care for the repair shop. It was too much like automotive repair, plus the owner was a screaming, raving, lunatic, who liked to hear himself yell, not only at employees, but an occasional customer. I needed the money, so I stuck with it until just before graduation. So now I've graduated, and I'm unemployed, with not a clue in the world what direction I want to take my life. I couldn't afford college on my own, and didn't have any scholarship offers, because I was just a mediocre student with mediocre enthusiasm about school. So here I am wondering what I'm going to do with my life. At eighteen, its time to stop dreaming, and start acting. It just so happened, a friend of mine informed me that his dad needed some extra help. His dad was self employed and was a tilesetter. I wasn't one hundred percent sure what was involved, but I needed a job, and was willing to give it a try. It was very hard work, but rather fulfilling at the time. So I stuck it out, and am still doing it today. Since then, I've taken an interest in custom concrete work. As a tilesetter, part of our job training is working with concrete on a smaller scale than an actual concrete guy, but an important and necessary part of our job requirements. So I now dabble in custom concrete countertops, fireplaces, furniture, anything you could possibly imagine outside the normal realm of concrete work. But, for the last several years, I've started making my own Italian sausage. I was able to formulate a pretty good recipe from two different sources, and have been pumping out (literally) some decent sausage. I've had several people tell me I've missed my calling. One person wanted to back me in a business venture, and claimed he would purchase my product on a regular basis, and be willing to pay more for my product than other sausage out on the market. Things like this get me thinking. I'm 45 years old now,... what do I want to be when I grow up. There's the responsible side of me that keeps me going to work each day, and fulfill my creative side, and there's the adventurous side that wants to try something new, whether it be sausage making, or.... sausage making. I'm just wondering if the 'road to sausage' is going to become like assembly line work. I'm not built for that. But could I do it long enough to build a business, and then sell it for a ridiculous amount of money? Maybe. In the meantime, I digress.