Family Tree

My wife gave me some inspiration last night, to continue writing this blog. For several weeks, I've felt blogged down, blogged out, and a bit blogged due to the time of the month. But I got better (please reread that, but with a British accent). She reads another friend's blog who happened to dig up old pics of her siblings and relatives, and put those in blog form. I thought, I only have one sister, BUT, all of my cousins are just like brothers and sisters to me, that I can relate some family history to the rest of the world. Don't panic. I promise not to relate anything cruel or harsh, but slightly embarrassing maybe:) And I certainly won't give out last names, and I may have to change some names to protect the innocent. I will probably throw in some of my 'brighter moments' as well. So, eight grandkids equates to at least seven blog entries. I may be able to post some pics with the help of my wife, to substantiate my stories. I'll try not to embellish too much. Enjoy!

Make Me Proud

Earlier today, my fifteen year old sent me a text message, asking if we could go to the baseball game tonight, and as an added bonus, 38 Special was playing a free concert in the parking lot afterwards. I had to oblige. 38 Special was one of those bands who had a half dozen songs that received uber amounts of playing time, and the songs became part of your road trip music. Everyone in the eighties knew the words to 'Back where you belong'. So before the show, we secured our spot rather close to the stage and waited in anticipation. They opened with 'Rockin' into the Night', and I caught my children dancing, and belting out the words as loud as they possibly could. They seemed to enjoy themselves thoroughly. On the way home, they're talking a mile a minute about the music, the musicians, the crowd, etc. So I had to ask if they actually enjoyed their parents' music. Usually I catch crap for liking, and or listening to the music I cut my teeth on, so it was a total surprise, but brought a smile to my face when they admitted to enjoying themselves tonight. I can only imagine the smile our parents had, when they caught us singing along to the Beatles or the Beach Boys, as we were driving in the car. Truly amazing how the next generation carries over a little from their parents:)

Music To My Ears?

Yesterday the temperature in my truck read 99 degrees, it's 5PM, and I'm stuck in a huge traffic mess at 84th & I80. So to keep myself in a good mood, and suppress any feelings of road rage, I roll up the windows, turn on the AC, and start to enjoy the song on the radio. Happens to be some Pink Floyd - perfect music for chillin' out to. Then, out of nowhere, this little Honda 'pimple', slammed to the ground, blacked out windows, a muffler that belongs on a Peterbilt, pulls up next to me, and starts to, beyond vibrate, more like thumping my truck with their, probably stolen, stereo system. The inside of my truck was shaking, and Pink Floyd was no longer distinguishable. At moments like these, it takes every fiber of my being to prevent me from breaking the law, or a windshield, or a head. I was attempting to make the most of an undesirable situation, but some inconsiderate puke, in his thundering tin can, has to go and infringe upon my personal space. If I could get away with it, I would quietly exit my vehicle, enter his vehicle on the passenger side, close the door, lean a little to the right, and let the sauerkraut I ate the night before, fill his compact car, with its limited supply of oxygen, with an aroma that would not be soon forgotten, and then excuse myself. The Bible says, 'an eye for an eye'. This would be bleeding ears for mustard gas, and then I would call it even. I wouldn't have been so upset if he had pulled up, rolled down his window and said, 'Hey, what are you listening to?', then change the music to Pink Floyd, rather than the offensive rap music that comes along with owning a monster stereo system worth 5 times more than the vehicle that houses it. In my estimation, the letter 'c' in rap, is silent.

Sticky vs. Slimy

Which would I prefer? Depends on a couple of factors. Are we talking on me, or on someone else? Last night, after having a couple of cold, adult beverages with friends, the topic of children arose. Since all of us present have children, we all have first hand experience, plus the stories that accompany them. We first discussed how much more in tune we were mentally prior to offspring. It was determined by our panel that adults with children, suffer brain loss due to two different factors. Figuratively speaking, children stand on your head until brain seepage occurs. Spending untold hours of untold days, compiled into years, conversing on an adolescent level, an adult cherishes conversation with another adult. This activity may slow down the process, but may also prolong the agony. Second factor actually involves physical harm to the adult. Children will, on a regular basis, undo something that took an adult several hours, or even days to accomplish, in ten minutes. This is when the self inflicted harm comes into play. Do I put my fingers around this little person's throat, or do I bang my head against a wall? Study shows most adults opt for the wall. But back to the subject at hand, sticky vs. slimy. Which do kids prefer? After interviewing a few choice specimens, children enjoy both. It required them to be engaged in messy, playful, sometimes delicious fun. Slimy was preferred, but sticky seemed to prevail. Sticky seemed more reasonable to children because some type of sweetened food product would be involved, and dirt would stick to the affected areas afterward, much better than a slimy mess. After partaking in this study panel, it was determined that adults occasionally drink to make the pain go away, and we usually drink together while discussing our children and the ill effects of raising them. I guess this is a form of therapy.

What's In a Name?

Does it really matter how you label it, as long as you call it something? I started my annual pilgrimage to the couch, in front of the TV, to pay homage to the final season of CWS at the 'Blatt'. Yes the new stadium is probably going to be spectacular, and the CWS will thrive in Omaha for quite some time, but it's going to be played at the TD Ameritrade Park. Yes, the city whored itself out to big business, just so we could get a new stadium, and keep another big business in Omaha. Since the name, 'Johnny Rosenblatt Stadium', is going by the wayside with the stadium itself, the CWS is losing a certain ambience about it. It's no longer directly connected to Omaha's past, and is changing the identity of the CWS. College baseball has morphed into big business, just like every other sport that becomes popular. What happens if TD Amertrade goes belly up, or gets bought by Morgan Stanley? The name changes. Johnny Rosenblatt is a permanent name in Omaha history, it's not going anywhere. Plus, he was an actual person whom people had a personal connection to. He could offer a handshake, or better yet, a hug. I don't think I would get the same warm fuzzies receiving a hug from TD Ameritrade. Is TD Ameritrade even capable of hugging? Fortunately, I have memories of a Johnny Rosenblatt Stadium, where families would come to share in America's greatest pastime, and share those magical moments with perennial fans from LSU, or to cheer on our home teams, Creighton and Nebraska, when they entered the CWS for the first time. I'm glad their experiences came at the 'Blatt', where the CWS originated, rather than TD Amertrade Park. I guess all good things run their course in life. Time to stop having fun, and get down to business.

Inappropriate

So today I decided to engage in our door - to - door activity. And in order to take part in such activity, one must be neatly dressed, not slovenly, nor anything inappropriate. After all, we're coming to your door, the last thing we want to do is scare you off (even though we do anyway). This morning I had an overwhelming urge to wear my flip flops. This would actually be inappropriate, because it doesn't really meet up with certain dress standards, at least in this country. So the adult reasoning took over, and forced me into wearing dress shoes. It's only for a few hours, I reasoned, then I can wear my flip flops everywhere else I please. This wrestling in mind took me back to my high school days. When I was a teenager, I was somewhat rebellious, but in a passive way. I would push the envelope, but would not make a spectacle of myself. When I was finally called upon my actions, I always had a smart retort, which usually hindered my cause. One day, at school, I was called to the office immediately by the vice principal. On my way, I'm running thru my mind, trying to figure out what in the world I had done. This happened to be a time when I was on my best behavior, so this really had me stumped. When I arrived in his office, he called attention to my footwear - flip flops - my shoe of choice. He then threw the high school handbook in front of me, and asked me to turn to a certain page, and read a certain section involving dress code about shoes. So far so good, I don't see any infractions on my part. He then asked me my definition of shoe. My answer was very succinct, "Something you wear on your feet". We then looked up a definition in the dictionary, to further clarify his reason for 'harshing my gig'. Webster sided with the principal, and said it was a foot 'covering', thus nullifying my right to wear flip flops in school. The first remark that popped into my head, and this would have had a negative response I'm sure, was to ask why flip flops were sold in department stores in the 'SHOE' section. If they're not really a shoe, shouldn't they have their own spot elsewhere in the store? Amazingly enough, wisdom prevailed, and I said nothing. I was made to go to my gym locker and change my flip flops. In protest, I wore my football cleats for the rest of the day, thus prompting fellow students to ask, "What's up with the cleats"? This gave me an opportunity to tell them how 'THE MAN' was repressing me. I may have lost the flip flop battle, but did I really:)

Brand Spanking New

Getting something new is always a treat, but can have its down side also. Let me explain. First, think of how you feel when getting a new pair of shoes. Think of how you feel when you find them on sale, in your size, and happen to be the exact color you were searching for. You can't help but feel good about your acquisition. How about the feeling when you get a little bigger ticket item, such as a new car? When it has 8 miles on the odometer, no stains on the seats from messy kids' stuff, and that new car smell. You may actually enjoy this purchase for quite some time. The 'newness' doesn't wear off as quickly as that new pair of shoes. Then the negative side of things. Friends and family may give you crap for buying a brand spanking new whatever it is. This is all in an attempt to make you feel guilty because they may not be able to purchase new, big ticket, items. Even if they can, you can still expect some flack for your purchase. I recently bought some new work jeans. First, I get ribbed for having wore out jeans that I wear to work, then I get ribbed for buying two new pair. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. What folks don't realize is, the jeans have to be new at some time in their life. Same as a new car, it too, had to have a beginning, and someone had to be the first owner. I really appreciate the attitude of one friend. He was at work one day, and a fellow workmate had bought a brand spanking new car. This happened to be the exact model this friend would have bought if he were in the market for a new car. After seeing the car in person, it was love at first sight. His workmate had to point out the painful obvious, that my friend would not spend that much money for something that new. Those who know him, know how painful it is for him purchase something brand spanking new, and part with a large sum of money, even though he probably has it stashed in a mattress at home. His response was, 'Yes, but in ten years, this car is going to be mine'! As much as a miser as some people strive to be, they still have to make new purchases whether they like it or not. There's absolutely nothing wrong with buying things second hand. My family would probably be wearing skins from animals we found dead on the road, if were not for thrift stores. But certain consumables, such as, say, toilet paper, should NOT be purchased second hand or used, for obvious reasons. It really doesn't bother me that bad when people 'harsh my gig' because I'm wearing new work jeans. I'm in no way being pretentious, just trying to get the most for my money, while still trying to look presentable. If I were trying to show off, I would invite you over to check out my new roll of butt wipe. Soft isn't it?