THE GOOD OLD DAYS

Folks like to talk about how dangerous it is these days, how you can't walk down the street anymore without fearing for your life, and they long for the good old days where every evening Dad took you down to A&W for Burgers and a Frostie.
But it just wasn't that way.
It wasn't that way at all.


Hell, when I was a kid I had to watch out for about three dozen different bad-asses that would give me a thorough ass whuppin anytime I might stray off my particular block. And it wasn't too safe at school either.
Remember the "Swirlie" hair-do? That's where they stick your head in the toilet and flush. Ever get one of those?

Dan Jensonowski was one of the most misogynic and sadistic Safety Patrol Guards you would ever want to meet. If he is not incarcerated now, then he is surely a Prison Guard, and kickin' some poor innocent Con's ass somewhere. Dan used to give me nuks when ever I had to cross the street at his corner which was twice a day. Some days, if I was feeling particularly puny, I would go two blocks out of my way to avoid being brutalized by Dan Jensonowski.

Then there was James Glowers. He was a fat kid that would sit on you and blow cigarette smoke into your face. He had bad hair, bad breath and bad acne. He was like some kind of villain out of a Batman episode, with weird henchmen and everything. Put poor asthmatic Bill Spencer in the hospital one day, he did. Bill didn't breathe right for years.

I grew up in Detroit during the riots, and there was smoke blowing through our windows every night. Dad woke me up and took me down to Jefferson Avenue at 3:00AM to watch the National Guard* move in.
Don't give me any shit about how its "dangerous" these days....Downtown Detroit was 3 miles away, you could hear the Rat-a-tat-a-tat of gunfire and the whole city was on fire. The result was forty-three dead, 467 injured, over 7,200 arrests and more than 2,000 buildings burned down inside of five days.
Hell, even in my rich-kid Mafioso neighborhood, Grosse Pointe Park, the Mob told the cops to stand down and black limos patrolled the streets for the duration of the riots.
Its all true, my own  mother will testify to it.

So will the mother of Tanya Blanding, a 4 year old girl, who died as a result of a gunfire from a National Guard tank stationed in front of her house.

Every time I hear the Ice-Cream truck coming down the street, I shudder and say a prayer for little Georgie, Georgie Duke, who was run over and paralyzed from the waist down while he was eating his Strawberry Shortcake Good Humor Ice Cream Bar at the ripe old age of 10 in the summer of 1967.

Yeah baby, those were the good old days.


* 8,000 Troops with Tanks. Yes, Tanks, two blocks from my house.

Jefferson Avenue, July 1967




And it wasn’t much different when I moved back to Texas .
I made friends with the guy up the block, Jeff Bargren. He was my first friend here in Texas .

We were friends for all of two weeks when he got hit by a car on the 121 access road coming off the pedestrian bridge on his way to Shady Oaks Elementary. Nearly killed him, and left him with a fair amount of brain damage.
With a Herculean effort and a year of intense therapy, he learned to walk and talk again and was able to join us mates in school.

School, where he was mocked, teased and bullied quite a bit, even by myself though not directly to his face.
In the end the metal shop Hoodlums and car repair guys took him in.
I think of Jeff and those Metal Shop Hoods whenever I start feeling a little judgmental, a little abrasive to other people, and try to remember that just a little kindness can go a long, long way and that kindness can come from some unlikely places.
Meanness too.

May 4, 1970

"Those few days after Kent State were among the darkest of my Presidency"
Richard Nixon (Click here)

Pretty damn dark, I'd say.

I don't know that there has been an event in history during my lifetime that precipitated any more of a change in me than this one.

I stopped cutting my hair.

This picture still haunts me.

“From my Post last year
“…on the Horizon loomed an event so great that many of those that had been unsure about the War, and the protest, would become fanatics against the War. Up to and including everyday housewives and former members of the Establishment.”

MAMA'S, DON'T LET YOUR BABIES GROW UP TO BE RETRO

not that there is anything wrong with that...

You Are a Retrospective Soul

The most misunderstood of all the soul signs. Sometimes you even have difficulty seeing yourself as who you are. You are intense and desire perfection in every facet of your life. You're best described as extremely idealistic, hardworking, and a survivor. Great moments of insight and sensitivity come to you easily. But if you aren't careful, you'll ignore these moments and repeat past mistakes. For you, it is difficult to seperate the past from the present. You will suceed once you overcome the disappoinments in life. Souls you are most compatible with: Traveler Soul and Prophet Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Hah!

I took it three times because I didn't want to be a "Retrospective Soul" and guess what?

It came out 'Retro" evey time!

So I guess I'm stuck with it until I can work my way up to...what are my choices?

This line is way off;

"You are intense and desire perfection in every facet of your life."

I don't know what this line is suposed to mean:

"You will suceed once you overcome the disappoinments in life."

Oh, really?

Goody-Goody!

I will agree that am often "Misunderstood"..

If i have to explain that, you wouldn't understand.

In fact, I don't much believe in a human Soul;

we are Carbon Compounds and Noble Gasses....

its the gasses that give us a sense of humor!

SOOOO....

I JUST KEPT TAKING IT TILL THEY GOT IT RIGHT

(perfectionist?)

ACTUALLY

AFTER TAKING IT THE FOURTH TIME,

THERE WERE SOME ANSWERS THAT I CHANGED FROM THE WAY I SEE MYSELF TO PROBABLY HOW OTHERS SEE ME.

(I have a little difficulty seeing myself as I am))

THIS IS PRETTY GOOD EVIDENCE

THAT WE ARE MORE AS OTHERS SEE US

AND LESS AS WE SEE OURSELVES.

"Seeker" seems more like me, even to me,

so

lets have a looksie!

You Are a Seeker Soul

You are on a quest for knowledge and life challenges. You love to be curious and ask a ton of questions. Since you know so much, you make for an interesting conversationalist. Mentally alert, you can outwit almost anyone (and have fun doing it!). Very introspective, you can be silently critical of others. And your quiet nature makes it difficult for people to get to know you. You see yourself as a philosopher, and you take everything philosophically. Your main talent is expressing and communicating ideas. Souls you are most compatible with: Hunter Soul and Visionary Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

How 'bout a Filet of Soul?

"when you're feelin' low

and the fish don't bite

A little bit o' soul, yeah,

will put you right"

PEACH-FUZZ

When I was a boy, I used to go spend a week with my grandpa twice a summer. He had a Peach Orchard...120 trees...and several of them were "Mine"...that is to say, I had planted seeds from the peaches I had eaten years before, and now those trees bore fruit.
In the house there were jars filled with Peach Preserves. They lined a very sizable pantry and also shelves that ran along the stairway that led to the 2nd floor. Granpa had a huge Cereal Bowl that he filled with Corn Flakes every nmorning, then topped them with half a jar of peach preserves and milk.
Then he would take a shot of Prune Juice.
People came by all the time to get some peaches, and anytime we went anywhere in the car we took some with us to give away.
The house had been built by my Grandfather in 1918; I still have receipts for the lumber he used. It wasn't quite a farm, but he had chickens, and grew most of the food he ate. There was always just a little too much Okra and Black-eyed peas on the table for my taste, but what I wouldn't give for either of those as grown by him now.

In the early 60's, they were testing the Supersonic F-111 that was being built in Fort Worth. Grandpa lived 30 miles south of Fort Worth, and right under the flight path. One afternoon, out in the Orchard, there was a thunderous boom from the sky...I went running to Papa and hollered '
'Its a gonna wain papa, run for the house"
and I turned and ran as fast as I could.
Granpa said he looked at the sky and there weren't a cloud one. What I had heard was an F-111 breaking the sound barrier.
I did not stop till I got to the house.
Granpa loved to tell that story.

The highlight twice a summer for my Grandpa was at the end of the week, Saturday, before I left for home, when he would take me 'Downtown" (in a town whose population was about 500) and I would get my haircut. Back then, it was called a buzzcut and it left every hair in your head about 1/4 inch long. Then the Barber would splash some sweet smellin' rose water or tonic or something on your shaved head and removed the cover that had protected you from all the hair that had been removed from your head. He took a brush and brushed any remnants from the back of your neck. When you ran your hand across your head, it felt funny and sometimes give you a chill. Sometimes I thought my head rather resembled a peach after that haircut.

The whole time, Papa would be talkin' with all his buddies, so proud of the young man and the Haircut taking place. As you stepped from the chair, the Ol' Timers would tell granpa what a good lookin' young man he had there. The Barber Shop on Saturdays was the meetin' spot. These were usually the same buddies that would have two tables of Dominoes going in Papa's barn, with a cloud of Tobacco smoke and a gentle smell of Whiskey in the air.

One year, I think it was right after the 7th grade and Miss Cantrell, when it came the last day at Granpas at the end of the summer, he asked if I were ready to go downtown for my Haircut. I remember lookin' up at him and sayin'
"You know Granpa, I been thinkin' I might wanna let it grow out a bit.".
I'll never forget the look on his face...you woulda thought I'd cut his heart out.
He died mercifully about two years later, before my hair had taken on really hippy-ish proportions. (this link gets you to several related posts)
It was part of becoming an "Atlantean"
I let my hair grow out allright, and for the next 37 or so years kept it that way....until two days ago when I walked into a barber shop and got a 'Buzzcut". They started out on a #6, but I had 'em take it down to a #1!
I believe myself to look like a cross between Bruce Willis and ...maybe Robert Redford now...with a little Daniel Craig thrown in...


You know, Grandpa had all those Peach Trees, but I do declare that he never sold a peach one.

STEALIN WHEN I SHOULDA BEEN BUYIN'

Tagged by my new friend Akelmalu for eight things you might not know about me....I've already done 6 things that make me Crazy and 5 things that make me weird so lets see if can't play this one straight.
And I still owe half of another tag from Gewels, I think, some kind of foursome thing....but I would'nt hold my breath.

Soooo....

1) The name of the Nursery Scholol I attended was "The Little Hoss Ranch". We got Orange Juice, Crackers and watched Felix the Cat every afternoon.

2) The street I lived on had no little boys for me to play with, so I always got to be Tarzan, or Superman or Ken. I discovered that when the girls are through playing with you, you are outta there.

3) I was in Indian Guides, a Father-Son group activity group. My Dads Indian name was "Walleye" and mine was "Yellow Perch."

4) The day I turned 11, I went to the Boy Scout meeting and fulfilled all the requirements for my Tenderfoot Badge.

4 and a Half) I am an Eagle Scout.

5) I still remember the Oath, Slogan, Laws and Motto and I still know enough knots that I could tie you up pretty darn good.

6) I used to build and launch Model Rockets and was President of the Rocket Club. My nickname was "Rocket Renfro".

7) I was also President of a Junior Acheivement Company, but my Company went belly up because I was screwing three of my Employess. Excuse me...Associates.

8) I am a Rule Breaker and Risk-Taker. But you knew that!

A LIE WITH A HALO

To this day there is a question the X will ask me from time to time., and I don’t even remember the question until I hear it...and to this day I still remember what my lie is in answer to the question...and every time we have that Q&A session, she says “You are good” meaning I am a good liar.
One of these days, when she asks that question, I am going to tell her the truth, if I can still remember what the truth is.


They say the first lie we tell is in the crib and everything is OK, but we know if we cry, someone will come ...so we cry.

The first lie I can remember telling;
I was about 3 years old and Dad had some kind of Construction Project going in the backyard. When no one was lookin’, I cut my finger on a Razor Blade I knew I shiould’nt be playing with. I took Dad on a tour of the entire backyard except for the Construction area to find where I had cut my finger. Finallly, he led me over to where the razor blades were and asked if this was where I had cut my finger. With my best 3 year-old poker face on I said "I don't remember."

The second lie I remember I was 4.
I had knocked over a glass jar in the Garage that had nails in it. It shattered on the floor and dad came out, asking what had happened to the jar of nails. I pointed out the open Garage door and claimed that a little Black boy had run through here and knocked it over. Dad could not resist a bit of a laugh before he spanked my bottom.

The third lie I remember I was 5. It was the worst one.
My older friend Don had taken my little sisters Baby Chick, which she received on Easter morning, and cut its head off on Easter Afternoon. We buried the poor bird in the front yard, which my Dad was in the procees of re-sodding. When it was noticed the Chick was missing that night, I claimed to have no knowledge of its whereabouts. The next morning, Dad discovered the headless body while he was using his rototiller in the front yard. I fessed up, but Don was not around to help absorb the punishment I took for it or to verify it had been his doing.
Dad wore me out that day.
I cried, but not nearly as hard as my sister did when that chick went missing.

I got to be a pretty good liar over the years...someone told me one time that I could tell a white lie with a halo wrapped around it.
I don't lie so much anymore.
These things will happen in time.

THE UNIVERSE ALONE

I've been wanting to post this for some time now...Water Baby brought it home for homework a while back...how is it that we get behind on what we want to post?

The Most Of It
He thought he kept the universe alone;
For all the voice in answer he could wake
Was but the mocking echo of his own
From some tree–hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder–broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter–love, original response.
And nothing ever came of what he cried
Unless it was the embodiment that crashed
In the cliff's talus on the other side,
And then in the far distant water splashed,
But after a time allowed for it to swim,
Instead of proving human when it neared
And someone else additional to him,
As a great buck it powerfully appeared,
Pushing the crumpled water up ahead,
And landed pouring like a waterfall,
And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread,
And forced the underbrush—and that was all.
robert frost


So is it enough in this life to see a stately Buck cross a lake and crash into the underbrush?
Maybe.
Sometimes.
This weekend the Rip and I went camping and fishing.
What a weekend...I am sunburned and sore...we caught a lot of fish, but they were all small....I spent too much time hunkered over a campfire cooking, and can hardly stand up straight.
Saw many Redwing Blackbirds, which are a very pretty bird and quite rare down here.
Fed a baby Rabbit Corn on the Cob and he proceeded to do tricks for us not 5 feet away. I named him Mr. Jingles like the Mouse from "The Green Mile".
It ain't natural for a Rabbit to come up on humans that way.
Between the yearling bass, the Red Wings and the Rabbit, we had a very good time.
They were enough.

MOM, APPLE PIE AND PEACE

"Cause out on the edge of darkness,
there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country,
come take me home again"
C.STEVENS

When I was in the 5th Grade, me and my buddies were all playing 'Pile-on" in the back yard...you know where you just make a big pile of kids and as you get squirted out the bottom you take a running start and pile back on?
Anyway, my Mom came to the back porch with her Watermelon Apron on and a wooden spoon in her hand and hollered
"Stephen Bulletholes!!!"
Well, when she used my full name I knew there was trouble.
'Are you boys fighting back there?
"Yes Ma'am"
"Well ya'll stop that right now, you hear me"
"Yes Ma'am"

We stopped right away.

Annelisa is promoting a blog for peace thing and so here is my plan, based on this childhood memory:

We get all the Mothers to just go get their boys, wherever they may be and tell them not to fight.
Tell 'em to just stop "piling on".

THE PLAN

Bring 'em home and fix 'em something to eat. A bowl of Soup and some Apple pie.
There may be some Mothers out their fighting right now, but they got mothers somewhere that are not fighting, and those mothers ashould go get their girls, and even if they don't I still think there are enough Mothers in the world to just go get all these children of the world and keep them from hurting each other.
It would have worked anytime.
In Athens or Carthage.
At Sterling or Bunker Hill.
If Attila's mother had gone and gotten her boy, just think how many lives would have been saved.

Even Alexanders Ashes have a Momma somewhere.

George Patton had a Mother..."Through a Glass, Darkly"

If all those boys mothers had shown up at Gettysburg, that war would not have gone on another two years.
Along the trenches and the Siegfried line in the years of 1916-1918 we needed all the mothers just to go get their boys and make em come home.
63 Years ago today, we would not have had to storm that beach at Normandy if more mothers had gone and got their boys during the previous 5 years and kept them from listening to that Mr.. Adolph Hitler.

In Korea, at Pork Chop Hill, there should have been mothers that could have made them stop fighting.

There is no doubt in my mind that Mothers helped, and helped a lot, to get all those boys home from Vietnam. Whole families got involved in that.

Somewhere, right now there are men planning an attack, or building a bomb, or trying to buy a Rocket launcher; but if their mothers would show up in an apron with a wooden spoon and call out their full name, I bet a lot of them would be real ashamed and stop what they were doing.
Some where right now, there is a soldier ready to spend his last round of Ammunition and die for his Country. If his mother could just jump down into that foxhole with him, or behind that defilading wall, I bet she could talk him out of it.

This all may sound a little too simple and I'm sure you may be thinking it would not work...
Its got as good a chance, if not better, as increasing the troops by another 10,000 this month, and 20,000 next year, and so on and so on....
Have you ever put out a fire by pilin' on more wood?

MY RESUME'

Tagged by the very sparkly Gewels.....

4 jobs I've had;

1) Ran a Newspaper and Detective Service in the Fifth Grade.
2) Rockhound/Gemologist in the 7th Grade...during 1 Summer my friend and I brought about a Ton of rocks home (1 mile) from the Creek, thinking they were Rare and Precious gemstones. When my dad took us to sell them at a Rock Shop, the man actually bought some of them for a Dollar, I think out of pity for us.
My friend, Billy, sold his Harley Davidson Franchise last year. He is a Millionaire now, and runs one of those Pimp your Motorcycle shops. in High School, he was the kid with the crappy car, a 63 Dodge Dart with the Mag wheels and a hood scoop it.
3) Delivered Circulars/Handbills to a Dumpster when I was 17.
4) Chef for 24 years.This led to an extraordinary position doing Food Demonstrations at the Local Grocery store, wearing a Bowtie and Blackslacks, trying to sell Fritos, Air Fresheners, and Soy Milk ect.. Except for the Soymilk and all the ladies that lined up to talk to me, it was a real low point.
Almost like being the model for the Logo for a Pizza Box or something.
I quit when they tried to make me wear a Chefs hat.
I was their "Best Guy" and the lady cried like a baby when I quit.


4 Movies I can Watch over and over
I should preface this by saying there are a lot of movies I put on at night to help me sleep; I have seen them over so many times they act as a tranquilizer on me. It says more about me than the movie. These are not among those.


1) Paint Your Wagon ( I LOVE Ben Rumpston!He says 'if you want to turn thuis mining camp into a thriving BoomTown Metropolis, all you gotta do is put up one...tiny... little.... Cathouse!)
2) Dances with Wolves ("Do you know I will always be your Friend?")
3) Godfather 1&2 ( " Oh, Michael it was an abortion...I did it to try to stop this "Sicilian Thing" thats been going on for 1000 years")
4) Moby Dick (My Movie of the year, I can't get enough of Gregory Peck as Ahab)


4 Places I've lived

1) Detroit Michigan
2) In my 55 Pontiac Star Chief when Kid Rock and I ran away from home for 2 weeks during Spring break, Senior Year of High School. Par-tay!
3) A burned out Trailer, being tended to by a blind man named Arnold, when I had given up entirely.
4) Cowtown (Fort Worth Texas) and its Associated suburbs almost all my life.


4 Categories of Television I watch

1) PBS News & Documentary
2) PBS science
3) PBS History
4) Desperate Housewives (Actually, I will look at one of the Evening Soaps once for a while, long enough to follow it enough that I either puke or break the goddaamnidiotbox, then I'll switch over to something else. I had to let "Greys Lobotomy" go a while back, deferring to "Boston Legal", and I have since switched back over to "Desperate Housewives". I have a theory about LoST- they took a lot of shows that could not make it on their own, and stranded them on an Island.)


Thats enough for today!

I GOT SASQUATCH FEVER

To the tune of "Cat Scratch Fever" by Ted Nugent


This was the image captured in October of 1967 that fired the young imaginations of all my buddies in Detriot Michigan. It appeared in both Time Magazine and Sports Illustrated.
The photo is proof positive of what we knew all along- Bigfoot was no joke! Like Werewolves, the Chupacabra and Vampires, this was not a Myth, but an actual Bone Crushing, Gas Passing Creature. He had relatives all over the world, the Himalayan Yeti, the Abominable Snowman, King Kong and even in Arkansas was the Boggy Creek Boogie Man.

Furthur bolstering our young imaginations were the reports coming out of Monroe County, just south of Detroit, of a Bigfoot like Beast ravaging the roadways, and scaring the Homones right out of all the young people who frequented the local lovers lane.

Across the street from me lived little Peter Spencer, the young brother of my classmate Bill. Peter and Bill spent the night with me one night, and we studied everything we could find about Sasquatch, Bigfoot and our more local "Monroe Monster" as the newspapers were now calling our neighbor in Monroe County.

The next afternoon, I put the finishing touches to the two humongous footprints I had made right outside Petes bedroom window, and spread a little hair I had taken from Mrs McMullins dog run that housed two Huskies on his windowsill.
Then I went and knocked on the door.

'Hey Pete, lets go look around and see if we can find the Monroe Monster....he could be close by."
"O-O-K, d-do I- n-n-need to bringa- anytthing?"
Pete had a bit of a stutter, but no one teased him about it because he was one of the funniest guys I ever met, and any of us would have creamed anyone who did.

"Yeah, Pete, grab that squirt gun of yours that looks like a German Luger"
"O-O-Ok Steve, and I'll g-g-get my f-fake b-barf t-too."
"What are you gonna do with that Pete?'
"I-I-Ill hold m-my Stomach and g-g-roan and throw it at h-him!"
"Good thinkin' Pete!"

So all around the neighborhood we trod, Pete with his luger and fake barf and me with a Magnifying Glass, a cap gun, and a Bolo Bouncer looking for signs of the Monroe Monster.

"W-what are w-we lookin' for S-Steve?"
"Stuff like plants pulled up and the roots eaten, Pete, or a place where he might have left his footprints."
"O-o-o-r m-m-maybe w-here h-he might have s-sat d-down and left his b-b-butt p-prints, S-steve?"
'Buttprints? Pete, you crack me up! I'm havin' a cow!""


And Pete and I just fell out laughin'. We held our sides and rolled on the ground and kicked our feet and wiped the tears from our eyes. How can you not like a kid who is going to find Bigfoot by tracking his Butt prints? We woulda’ creamed anyone to tease Pete.

I don't know how long we scoured the neighborhood, but at some point the only places left to look for signs were my house and his. My house was clean, so we crossed the street with an air of disappointment hangin' thickly between us.
"You go that way Pete, and I'll go this way, by your Garage."
When Pete went round the corner heading towards his bedroom window, I turned around to spy on Pete. I couldn't wait to see his face when he found those tracks and that fur I had planted earlier

***************

Pete couldn't sleep for a whole week.
Those tracks and that hair had scared him bad. He had gone running into his house, screaming bloody murder. And while I had been in trouble, big trouble at first, the misdemeanor was alleviated by the fact that Pete had suddenly lost his stutter!

As my Mother had said, without much kindness...
"Your little stunt seems to have cured Pete"
I think about Pete a lot at times ... mostly when I have done something wrong that turns out right. I wonder if his stutter ever came back, and how much credit you can take for something that you have done that was wrong, but comes out OK.
I think that happens to us a lot more than we are aware of.

WHY I DID NOT GO TO JUILLIARD

HIGHER EDUCATION, PART TWO

KILROYS TAG

I spent my last two years of High School mostly in the Parking Lot, or at the Lake and if I was still in class at 11:00 am it was some kind of miracle...or else there just was no Marijuana or LSD on Campus.

Somehow, in the Subjects I liked I managed to make A's without study or doing homework. I think this says less about my Intelligence and more about the Curriculum.
And with such a sorry curriculum (curriculae?), who could blame my disinterest?
While attending Summer School one year to make up for a botched Chemistry Class (Chemistry being the kind of class that requires both homework and study to pass) the Teacher was delighted to find that one of her students at Summer School could read.
Namely me.
She urged me to get into Drama or Speech class the next year which I did and in my Speech Class I really found my groove.
I was on the Debate team and also participated in UIL Original Oratory where I took my 8 minute Speech on American Indians to competition and won.
All of this was influence enough for me to consider the possibility of going to School to be a Lawyer. Back then it was Lawyers that changed the World.
I would be the one to "Legalize It".

I think it was while I was waiting to see the Dean of Men one morning thinking of how to explain why I had missed 100 classes out of the last 120, that I determined I might be more suited towards being a Chef, maybe even at the new Restaurant in New York, "Windows of the World" that sat atop the World Trade Center, or on a big Cruise Ship going to fabulous and exciting Ports of Call around the world.
Yes, that sounded more like me. I didn't think I could take another minute sitting at a desk.

‘The Dean will see you now”
I entered his office. Somehow, unbelievably, with all the classes I had cut over the last three years, I had never been here before.
I sat down and Mr. Potter looked over the tops of his glasses at me .
“Bulletholes, I want you in class this next three weeks before you Graduate”
‘But Mr. Potter, I have been in class”
“Don’t give me any shit, Bullletholes, get your ass to Class”
“OK”

Two and a half weeks later, my Journalism teacher, Mr. Washmon informed me that I had a 69 average, which was failing, and that I would not be able to graduate with that grade.
Of the several projects I had done in his class, he had not liked any of my work.
For the report about Walt Disney cartoons, I had chosen to do George Carlin’s routine on “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs On Drugs".
I got an “F”.
For the Advertising campaign, I had chosen a Monty Python routine and a Breakfast Cereal called “Froggy Crunch”.
Another “F’.
I mean this guy had “Zero”’ sense of humor.
And now the Chickens had come home to roost.
I said “How did you come up with a 69”
He said “Everything you have done, and its been precious little, I have given you an “F” on”
“So how the heck do you get a 69?, That seems a little high doesn’t it” I asked.
For the first time all year, Mr. Washmon grinned at me.
“Well, Steve, I grade on a curve”
That would explain it.

In a moment of clarity I said to Mr Washmon;
“Well 69 or 70, it really doesn’t make much difference does it because either way, I won’t be back next year.”
He looked at me with those little beady eyes, grinned again and bent over his ledger.
“No, I don’t suppose you will” and he changed my grade to a 70.

There was only one thing left to do. On the last day of School, when you turn in your books and clean out your locker, I had to go to the Office to find out what my Locker Number and Combination for the lock was.
Mrs. Rae just shook her head and made that "Clucking" sound.
I'll bet she gets one like me about every year.
I never looked back.

I did take two college courses while I was a Chef...Nutrition and Management 101 or something.
I think I might take some courses this Fall.
With my Acid days well behind me I might make a better Student.
I might even remember where they put my Locker!

MISS CANTRELL, PART II

Kilroy has tagged me... this one concerns Education and in keeping with my usual policy of turning any tag into at least a 5 post series, we will first continue talking about Miss Cantrell.
For any one that missed my posts about her last week, and to refresh the memories of those who did not, Miss Cantrell was a Graduate of Kent State and a first year History Teacher and in the 7th Grade I was greatly influenced by her and an event that occured on her old Campus in 1970, which I detailed in a subsequent, but lumbering post titled "Four Dead".

Sometimes the very young and good looking Miss Cantrell would stop talking abiout history and let us talk about ourselves. I do not remember any of the girl classmates stories, but for us guys it wqas always about the same.

First a guy would say that while he and his Dad were out fishing they saw a UFO.

Then Another guy would say that when he and his Dad were out Hunting, a Bear had tried to get his Dad, but like a good son, he had saved his Dad with a One-Shot through the Heart kill. His Dad was forever grateful.

Then another guy would say that out on his Dads boat in the Bahamas, they had run into some pirate like bad Dudes, but his Dad had a Rifle and he had a Pistol and together they had run them off. Sometimes the guy and his Dad would actually capture the bad dudes and hand them over to the Authorities.

Finally, after a few more tall tales, some guy would say that his family heard noises outside one night and he and his father had circled the perimeter of the house with HPR's (High Powered Rifles) but it turned out to be just Aliens from another Planet and they scared them off, but the Cops had taken pictures of the footprints they left and the blast Burn from their Rocketship which NASA had followed up on the incident by interviewing them both, and issuing “I REALLY DID SEE AN ALIEN “ Certificates.

For a 7th Grade Class, there sure was a lot of Testosterone floating around.

Miss Cantrell was not the most influential teacher I had, but I think given the events of that year, it was a most influential class in a most influential year, if for nothing else but for the memory of her and the look her face the day those kids got shot at Kent State.

Tomorrow, I will tell you about what kind of Schoolin' I've had.

FOUR DEAD

Dad had served in the Air Force in WWII as a Mechanic and was attached to Patton in North Africa. He went on to Italy after Sicily fell and later to France.
"Available Jones" was the name of the plane that my Dads crew worked on. Beneath the lettering was the obligatory busty gal. This one was a Brunette, and she poses with her hair thrown back, one hand behind her head
The plane was a B-26, a medium range bomber.

In the Spring of 1970 Dad took me to see the movie "PATTON". He was so proud to take me and I was proud to see it with him.
To this day I enjoy the movie because it brings back memories of Dad and how he and his fellows truly saved the world. George C. Scott is outstanding as the General known as "Ol Blood and Guts". One of my favorite scenes is while he is in charge of Occupying Forces in Berlin immediately after Germany surrenders. He is on the phone with Eisenhauer I suppose, talking about the Russians and he tells him, regarding the Russians
"Up till now we have been fighting the wrong people; you say the word and I'll start a fight with those Communist Bastards and make it look like their fault"
Eisenhaeur hung up on him.
The solution was to build a wall through the middle of Berlin that would later, much later, be torn down.

After the Movie, Dad and I sat in the theater and he told me a few War stories before we left.
In the Parking lot of the theatre there was a car with an "America: Love it or Leave it" bumper sticker.
Right next to it was another car with a bumper sticker that read "Richard Nixon is a War Criminal".
Dad and I didn't know it as we walked out of the Theatre but the country was about to sink right out from under us.
Donovan had that song "Atlantis" that was #1 for so long. It was about a country that had sunk
"way down below the Ocean"
and took all these great people with it.
"Hail Atlantis"

America was well into "Incense and Peppermints", Nehru jackets and Earth Shoes, Paisley and Pot and “Sock-It -To -Me-Baby”.
We had Goldie Hawn and Tiny Tim and Hunter Thompson.
We also had Archie Bunker.
The Anti-War Movement by Students was well under way and on the horizon loomed an event so great that many of those that had been unsure about the War, and the protest, would become fanatics against the War. Up to and including Businessmen, housewives, and former members of the Establishment.
And for the kids in my class who would miss the draft, it was evidence enough not to trust anyone over 30.

I can think of few more ghastly images than the ones that came out of Kent State University on May 4, 1970. I thought of posting the heart-wrenching photo 0f the girl on her knees with that confused and pleading posture, but I won't.
CSN&Y sang the headlines..."Four Dead in Ohio"

The shootings became a defining event of the Vietnam War era.
Vietnam was right here, in the classroom, across the nation, up your street. It was no longer waiting at the curb in the form of a draft notice, it was knockin on your door.
It wasn't some disturbed and darkened mind with a gun on Campus doing the killing as we see these days.
It was our very own National Guard sent there to "Restore Order" .


It is said that the Kings of Atlantis became the Gods of Greek mythology whose goal was the peaceful existence of all the nations and that Atlantis was the region where man first rose from a state of barbarism to civilization.
Stephen King has a book called "Hearts in Atlantis". He likens the students back then to the Antlanteans from the Myth. I recommend it highly.... Mr. King is known for horror, which this book is not. Its more about kids trying to grow up and in doing so losing their belief in a place called Atlantis, where everything is Saturday Morning Groovy, to find that there are still little pieces of dreams and hopes and hearts 40 years later.
Hail Atlantis.


What did I learn from Kent State when I was only 13 years old? I learned that I could change because, quite frankly, like a lot of people after Kent State, I thought maybe those kids deserved it, deserved getting shot. It took a few weeks for it to sink in, and for me to decide that NO! it wasn’t OK for armed troops to come to Kent State or Central Junior High or L.D. Bell and start firing their weapons into the crowd no matter what.
I learned that WE COULD change the world, that it ‘s dying to get better.
I had a teacher that year, she was a mod lookin' hippie teacher with posters of Jimi and Janis on her classroom wall, along with a poster that said ‘War is not healthy for children and other living things” and I imagine she had a lot of friends in the ‘Nam, and that maybe she even went on protests and that maybe she even went to Kent State and I couldn’t hardly imagine her, with that long blonde hair, getting shot for speaking out. Miss Cantrell, she was an Atlantian.
As much as that day sticks to me, I can't imagine how it must stick to Miss Cantrell.
Like her brothers that spent time in the 'Nam, I hope she has found a way to "get over".
The hippies were definitely Atlantians.
I think Dr. King and Bobby Kennedy were Atlantians.
I think in a way, even ol LBJ, who said he didn’t want to be President anymore, grew his hair out and became Atlantian.

Dad hated to think we had been fighting a useless War, and like a lot of patriots, it took years for him to become an Atlantian.
I like to think that maybe he did.
"When your continent starts to sink underneath your feet it really does a number on your head." Hail, Atlantis.

MISS CANTRELL

It was great being back in Texas except for the Michigan accent I brought with me. having been born a Texan, it is particularly unsavory to be called a “Yankee Kid”.
The second thing I found out about Texas was that the kids down here were physically about a year ahead of the kids in Detroit. I would no longer be the starting Pitcher or Wide Receiver. And the entire mindset was different. In Detroit for Little League Baseball they gave you a Jersey; in Texas, you got a pro-style uniform, were told to go get cleats, given a playbook covering running and batting signs, and the 12 year old pitchers down here had “good stuff”, meaning an arsenal of fast balls, curve balls, knuckleballs, and sliders and the Coaches were teaching them how and when to use them. I had one pitch and the Coach called it the "Boogerball".I did hang in there at Second base.

In the Seventh grade I played Trombone and Football. I was in Boy Scouts and my best friends were in the same Patrol as me.
The girl across the street was named Jeri and she was what you would call “Mousy” with tawny hair, long and straight and her ears kind of peeked through at the sides and I thought that was foxy. I was in love with her and every time I heard the Archies sing “Sugar Sugar” I thought about her.

My really best friend was Kandi; she was a Tomboy and we spent hours roaming the fields by our house, shooting at Birds with bows and arrows.Her big brother was the star quarterback for the High School and Kandi wished they would let her play football too.
I am pretty sure Kandi could whup just about any of my friends. I knew she could whup me.

My history teacher was named Miss Cantrell and she looked like Peggy Lipton from the “Mod Squad” or maybe Nancy Sinatra and her ears stuck out of her hair just like Jeri’s. She was young and cool and if she weren't a teacher I would imagine that she would be a Hippy except that she dressed real nice and her hair was always brushed...she was Golden.
She was a Yankee; she said she was from Ohio. Thats where Johnny Appleseed was from.
She hung Posters of Musicians I had not heard of before...Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and there was a Band called the Doors I think I had heard of them before and she had a Donovan poster; I knew Donovan from the song he sang about Atlantis. She had another poster for a place in California called Monterrey and she said she had gone there. She also had a Woodstock Poster and everyone knew about Woodstock. I thought that guy Jimi was at Woodstock.

Of course there was one of the ubiquitous ‘Peace Signs” there on her wall and another one that said ‘War is not Healthy for Children and other Living Things...”
She was “Cool” and we all knew it and many was the boy with her on his mind as he fell asleep at night. She was Stardust.
One day Miss Cantrell showed me how to wear my Pullover Wool Cap. I typically wore it like a feedbag, down over my forehead, covering my ears in a fairly shapeless manner. When you take it off, your hair sticks out everywhere from the static electricity. Well, not my hair, because I had a Crew cut.
“Let me show you how to wear that hat” she said.
She rolled the bottom up about halfway, and set it back on my head, where it stylishly allowed my ears and forehead greater visibility and kept me from having to tilt my head back and use the lower eyelid as a Horizon.
“There” she said “That looks Cool!”
“Thanks Miss Cantrell” and I pretty nearly fainted from be in such proximity to her. I wondered how much cooler I must look.

When I got home that afternoon, my Mother took one look at me, crossed her arms and asked
“What happened to your hat?”
‘Miss Cantrell showed me how to wear it so it looks cool.”
She looked down at me with that Mom Face, pursed her lips a little and too sweetly asked
“Does Miss Cantrell have any little boys of her own that need to keep their ears and head warm?”
“No Ma’am, I don’t imagine that she does. She's too cool to be a Mom.”
“Um-Hmm...Well, you tell Miss Cantrell that this is the way little boys wear their hats to keep warm and when she has a little boy she will want him to wear it like this” as she took my hat and unrolled the bottom all the way back down and lovingly snuggled it back down over my ears and forehead, giving me a little pat.
I tilt my head back so I can see and say “OK Mom”

I suppose that was early spring of 1970. That’s the time of year that it gets really cold down here.
A few months later Miss Cantrell was so upset she couldn't teach her class for that day.
It wasn’t about my hat.

The Underacheiver

My first experience with a large Hotel Chain was to be the Lunch Cook for the Gourmet Restaurant. On my second day the General Manager came down the line to
meet me. I was just finishing a batch of Hollandaise Sauce. He says
"Hello, I’m Pat Cowbell, General Manager. Welcome aboard.
Do you mind?"
and produces a handful of spoons. I do think he means to try everything I have prepared.
He dips a spoon into the Sauce, as he tastes he
closes his eyes for a moment, and then opens them slowly.

"It needs a little Lemon" he says.

I happen to have ½ a lemon in my hand that I was going to finish it
with. I hope that he is impressed that I am so on top of things. He
watches me squeeze and stir the juice into the sauce. It needed only a
touch of lemon and I was quite impressed that he would even have
noticed the subtle difference. I also give it a half shake of Cayenne Pepper.

So I ask, as I stir, trying to be non-chalant
"Do you like to cook, Sir"?

He dips his spoon back into the Sauce, closes his eyes and tastes the
amended product.

He reopens his eyes, and gives me a knowing smile.
"No" he says "I like to eat."

He gives me a grin and exits my line with all the spoons still in hand.
WHEW....I PASSED!

This was my first experience with a big time G.M. They are all class
acts that are as comfortable at the Ballet or Opera as they are in an
impromptu Poker Game or a smoke filled Strip Joint. And while the Chef
may love the Doing of a Thing, the G.M. loves the Thing itself.
"Do you like to Cook" I asked.
"I like to eat" he said.

Reminds me of my Nephew Dave, the CEO of "Dave Mows Grass". See, Dave could care less about ownng a Landscape Company. What Dave likes is to mow grass. There were times in the Kitchen that I would have done it for free.
I hope Dave, as thrilled as he may be to discover old mufflers and Baby Diapers where he is trying to Mow, and as much as he loves the challenges of removing baling wire and old rugs from the blade of his very high Tech Mower (yes, its an industrial Toro, on a custom Trailer with all the accoutremonts that enable him to do a First rate Job) never does this for free (or the paltry sum I made as a Chef) and charges the pretty penny his work is worth!
Dave has a Personal Mission Statement that I think is pretty cool.
It should be noted that Dave, in addition to his position as CEO, also works a job as a Machinist upwards of 40 hours a week. Dave considers himself an "Underacheiver" but I think he is a real stepper, and am proud to know him.

BY SPECIAL REQUEST

WHICH ONE YOU GIRLS WANTS ME TO HOLD YOU?

A NICER GUY

This has been added to yesterdays post concerning ways I have stayed the same/changed and deserves its own spot because it is the single most significant cahnge to occur since I got married and had kids.

Since leaving the Kitchen and no longer being employed as a Chef, with all the pressures and demands and adrenaline shooting through your nervous system all day long-
I am just a nicer guy!

I used to wake up at 1 a.m and wonder if I had ordered the Mayors Lobsters...
then again at 5a.m. and wonder if my Crackhead Potwasher was coming in...
because...
you can do a day without the General Manager but you can't do a day without a Potwasher...
your job and livelihood sometimes seem to rest on his shoulders.
The luncheon for 500 today at Noon is AT NOON!
It can't be put off till tomorrow;its not at 12:10 or 12:20- its at NOON baby- and if you are not ahead of the game you have lost.
When they start shaking the tree, its the guy at the top that falls out.
I'm a nicer guy now.

I no longer hold my friends, family and whoever I may have just met to the grueling and exacting standards that must be set in the Kitchen.
I'm a nicer guy now.

I used to walk through my front door, never saying a word and walk straight out the back door into the backyard so I could kick the Dog and pull some weeds to work out of my system the fact that after 20 years I was still trying to get guys to make a proper dish of mashed potatos.
If i was sitting in the Den, my 3 year old son would walk through the living Room to get to the kitchen so he would not have to pass by me. Things have improved somewhat!
I'm a nicer guy now.

I had no idea just how stressed out I had been and what going Mach 3 with my hair on fire all day long 8 days a week was doing to me until I got out. You run on heat. You take the crazy guy in your head and you don't kill him...you make him your friend and put him to work for you.
God, I do miss it so...
But I'm a nicer guy now.

DR.TAR & PROFESSOR FEATHER

"We blew it..."
easy rider

David had a very interesting post concerning the ways we have changed and the ways that we have stayed the same over the last 20 years.
I suppose I will start with the ways I have stayed the same;
I still have a Dynamite sense of humor. I would tie a Bowline in the Devils Tail for a Joke, man.
Foolish, Carefree, Laughing, and Wise I have striven to be, with some success. I do believe that laughter is the best answer to all thats sorrowful in the World.

I am still fiercely loyal to Friend and Family, and quick to forget a grudge or a sense of slight.I have always thought that theres no time for fussing and fighting my friends.

I still have a Memory that can't be beat. I seem to be able to recall almost any detail of any moment or event of my life, if given enough time for reflection.


I have always been steady, stable and stubborn with an easy-going streak.... right up to the part where I lose my temper and then...I do like Donald Duck (or is it daffy) where his body becomes like a thermometer and the red starts rising till it gets to his ears then the Steam Whistle goes off and he starts bouncing aound the room...Typhoons form up when I get angry.. but it is hard to get me there.
There is one quite skilled at it but we will just think of the party and whistle...

My reasoning mind was defined and confirmed to me when I was in my thirties by a book called "Atlas Shrugged". I still maintain some precepts in that book, but the lessons I've learned since then...well, thats a whole 'nother post!


Ways I have Changed
I have learned to control and direct my sense of Humor a little better than when I was younger; the end result seems to be that I am funnier than ever, and more important, less hurtful to others. I have said it before- its OK to Joke yourself but you should not Joke other people.
If an Angel be the Devil learned to Govern himself, then I am not wholly the Devil.

I do not have near the stuff, gear, cargo, I used to have. I spent a few years heaving away cargo the way a pioneer did before crossing the Great Salt Lake in order to save his Oxen. I wish I could say it was due to my good sense it were done... but it was more because of my lack of it. At any rate, I am still here, and lucky to be so.

I am sad to say, besides my Kids, I have found nothing that has ignited any great passion in me. This is a new situation for me as I have always had a Hobby of some sort that kept me brimming to the top and filled with a sense of the Magic and Learning that the World has to offer.
Simply being passionate about your kids is not enough and empty as it is a prerequisite for being passionate about anything else, and your duty to impart passion for SOMETHING to them.
It seems to me that this should be easy enough to fix, but so far, i'm getting nothin'.


I am probably less responsible and more Cynical than I used to be. In my cheerfullness, I still feel like the Lame Duck with a part-timers mentality.

I have shed myself of some old habits, and have no new ones to report.

TOO MUCH INFORMATION

"Share five off the wall, strange, unusual or just little known facts about yourself.” Part 5

I have never breathed a word of this to anyone.... ever!

In the 5th Grade my best friend Greg and I had a couple of Girlfriends that we would meet at the Park and play ‘Spin the Bottle”. After a few sessions it was my idea to ditch the bottle and just go for it.
And somewhere along the way Greg and I decided that it was in the best interest of all if he and I were to practice our kissing on...
EACH OTHER!!!
So before we met up with the young ladies, we would do a few warm ups.

I like to think that it was his idea.

I remember the day that some ‘Big kids’ came upon the 4 of us and Greg and I ran for our lives. That was the end of that. The girls never spoke to us again. And it wasn’t long before Greg and I weren’t talking either.

It was a few years later that a girl named Venita showed me what a kiss could truly be. My knees buckled and my head spun and time stood still. It felt like I was in orbit.

I’m pretty sure that Greg and I had been doing it wrong.

To read about love....

Just in Case I get a Chance to Wet a Hook

"Share five off the wall, strange, unusual or just little known facts about yourself.” Part 4
Does "Stupid" count?
I packed up and took with us all my Fishing Gear...
for my Honeymoon.
Thats it.

You will not want to miss part 5...