It ain't all pizzas and cream

Day 180: AQUA is the Devil

Ok, so much for not complaining...this is gonna be a rant...so send the kids to bed.

The fucking water company has had our street torn up and our main rerouted thru an anaconda's nest of above-ground hoses for two months. First, one of the hoses breaks and spills hundreds of gallons of water into the street. Then we find out our house is equipped with some sort of one-way moisture valve that prevents the outbound pipe from being used as the inbound pipe, so we had no water at all for a day.

And today I get a water bill for $192.  When I call customer service, I'm told that our meter had been "stuck" and that they couldn't get a "clean read" on it SINCE DECEMBER. They have some kind of drive-by system, similar to a radar gun, that reads each meter as the AQUA truck drives thru the neighborhood. So now, they claim, they finally got a "clean read" and this is what we owe. Only problem is that I've been paying AQUA bills (usually $35 a month) every month. When I asked about that, I was told that when a "clean read" is not available, the customer is charged a flat minimum rate. The $192 represents 6 months of water use ABOVE the $35 monthly minimum, i.e., another $35 a month for 6 months. To top it off, I was told it is MY responsibility to check the meter and to see that the usage amount on my bill does not read zero.

Fuckers.

Hey AQUA, here's an idea...if you can't get a "clean read" on a customer's meter for more than two consecutive months, CALL THE CUSTOMER or send someone out to do a MANUAL METER READING.

I'm tempted to dig my own well.

Fuckers.

Day 179: When's the last time I did a Tori post?

Tori started summer camp today. She came home happy and exhausted. Every weekday morning for the next seven weeks, she'll be playing and swimming with her friends.

She also had her 3-year well-child pediatrician appointment today. All's well. Tho she registered in the 90th percentile for weight (37" tall, 37 lbs, 37 months old). But hey, she's a solid little girl and EXTREMELY active (we took her to the pool after her appointment and THEN went for an hour-long stroll thru the neighborhood after dinner). Like I said, active. So I'm not too concerned about percentiles. I'm firmly convinced that all weight and body fat indices have been created from a fashion rather than a health perspective.

Next week perhaps Tori will give ballet another try. Ideally, she'll become a fierce warrior ballerina who can throw a left hook while doing a demi plié.

 

Day 178: When celebs die

The first celebrity death I can remember with clarity is that of Elvis Presley in the summer of 1977. I was nearing my 15th birthday and had a modest collection of classic 45rpm singles, including Hound Dog and Blue Suede Shoes.  I'd seen photos of Elvis with the Beatles and with Richard Nixon, and had heard of Sun Records. Most of all, I knew that Elvis embodied, along with giants like Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard, and Roy Orbison, pure American rock 'n' roll at its creative center. I was also aware that his death marked the end of something big, tho I didn't know how big.

In 1980, John Lennon was assassinated outside his New York apartment building. He was 40 years old. Lennon's death was especially painful for me, not only because of its violent nature and its stark contrast to his commitment to peace, and not only because Lennon had been launching a comeback at the time of his murder, but because his music (with and without the Beatles) had been the soundtrack of my entire life. The day of Lennon's death hadn't started well for me (personal reasons), but upon hearing the news, I punched a wall in my dorm hall, and as a consequence broke a small bone in my hand. I spent the better part of the evening in the local emergency room.

Some celeb deaths, of course, are felt less universally. The loss of writers Raymond Carver in 1988, Charles Bukowski in 1994, and Hunter S. Thompson in 2005 hit me especially hard because their words had made such an impact on me.

I could name many more: Marvin Gaye, Selena,  both killed by those close to them.  Frank Sinatra (1998),  Dean Martin (1995), and Sammy Davis Jr. (1990), whose deaths perhaps more than others spelled the end of both an era and a lifestyle. Jackie Gleason, because he reminded me of my dad. Paul Newman, because he was just a good guy. And just recently, Koko Taylor, 'Queen of the Blues,' and Farrah Fawcett, whose famous 1976 pinup poster helped get me thru high school.

And of course, there's Michael Jackson. Tho I was never a fan, it cannot be denied that he was loved by millions, perhaps billions. And that he was seen as a force for unity and against racism (tho I had to have that one explained to me). His death seems to have left his fans rudderless and adrift with grief, and as a news item has topped headlines nearly everywhere. Perhaps because music is one of the most powerful memory cues, and because Jackson's music was almost inescapable, he defined three decades of pop music. 

Unlike Elvis, I doubt there will be the widespread denial of his death, nor random "Michael sightings" at the local grocery in Dubuque. But nearly everyone with whom I've spoken has at least one memory with a Jackson song as its soundtrack. And perhaps that is what we lose when a celebrity dies... a bit of our context, a bit of our youth, our illusion of invincibility.

Day 177: Muscle memory strikes again

Returned yesterday from the Shenandoahs...a nice few days in the woods with Sarah & Pete. Cecily and I were even able to get in a brief hike (sans Tori). Muscle memory is a surprising thing. I'd had a minor backache for weeks and was concerned that a hike would be out of the question. I'd even taken a short walk around the cabin earlier in the day with Pete and the dogs to see how my back would tolerate a walk in the woods. Answer: it hurt. But I couldn't visit the Shenandoahs for the first time in 6 years and not attempt a hike. So we asked at the Visitor's Center and found a short hike (<3 miles) with a "mild" climb, and a summit view. All the right ingredients. And now for the funny part: as soon as I strapped on the backpack and began to climb, my back stopped hurting. The transformation was so dramatic that I had to question my own sanity. Had the backache been entirely psychosomatic, or had the morning's walk just smoothed out the kinks?  I'll never know. But I was now free to enjoy the hike.

Cecily even managed to snag a tiny ringneck snake...

Along the way, Cecily and I were able to reconnect in a way that only a walk in the woods allows. Not at the pace of our frantic "normal" lives, but at the pace of the woods. Slow deep breaths. The sway of the trees. I think we'd forgotten how much we loved this. And how well we worked together as a team.

When we got to the peak, we found the view to be worth the climb...

After we made the descent, we found a map that told us we'd just climbed 835 feet (just a hundred feet shy of the summit of Mt. Minsi in the Delaware Water Gap).

Like I said, muscle memory is a surprising thing.

Day 176: Jack-O

I'm going to try to be nice. The nicest I can be. Michael Jackson's music was the soundtrack for a 40-year period in American (and world) history. That, in itself is impressive. And the songs, like them or not, are catchy. Almost too catchy. They're ear worms. One morning you start humming Billy Jean to yourself and by noon you've forgotten your bank account number.  By dinner you're lucky if you can take off your shoes.

Then, there's his strange, and well publicized, personal life. The surgeries. The Elephant Man's corpse. The outbidding of McCartney and Ono for the rights to the Beatles' music. The child molestation.  We all know the stories. Have seen the news coverage. The crowd of supporters at the court house. Some subnormal releasing live doves for the cameras.

Despite the theater of the bizarre that was his life, I know there are millions who loved Jackson. Some who even saw him as a kind of activist for racial harmony. I think if he excelled at any one thing, it was marketing. At pinpointing the hunger of the entertainment culture and feeding it. At that, he was near perfect. And with that alone, he secured a place in the cultural memory.

So, goodbye Jack-O. 
Goodbye moonwalk.
Goodbye crotch-grab.
Goodbye glove.

Day 175: Curio (day 4)

Russian Winter
_________________________________________________________

[Russia, winter of 1813.  Napoleon sits at a small table inside his battlefield tent.  Outside, it is snowing.]

LIEUTENANT [hurrying in]

    Commander!  The men are starving and freezing and dying!

MEN [gathered outside the tent]

    We are starving and freezing and dying.

LIEUTENANT

    Commander, what shall we DO?

MEN

    We are thoroughly and decisively screwed.

NAPOLEON [singing softly to himself]

    I love the smell of the Ladies Room
    Ladies Room, Ladies Room.
    I love the smell of the Ladies Room
    Early in the morning!

[NAPOLEON goes quietly mad as the snow continues to fall.]

Day 174: Curio (day 3)

I Remember Hal Footen (Impossibly Tall Tales of Baseball)
________________________________________________________

[A tavern.  Two men in their sixties sit at the bar.]

PHIL

    Yeh, I remember Hal Footen.  Moved the Giants to San Fran.  Hired a  dirigible to fly them out.

DAVE

    Best financial move he ever made.

PHIL   

    Didn't even have a stadium until the third season.  Played all their games on     rooftops.  Lost 17 outfielders their first year.

DAVE

    The year of the big Q-Tip strike?

PHIL

    Yep.  Same year Listerine was decriminalized.

DAVE

    It was just after that Hal signed Jimmy "The Turtle" Mahaffey.

PHIL

    First legless pitcher in the majors.

DAVE

    But that kid could sure throw.

Day 173: Curio (day 2)

Sigmund Freud Art Supply
_________________________________________________________

[A small art supply store.  A man in his eighties stands behind the counter as a female customer enters.]

MAN [in a thick Austrian accent]

    Good afternoon, may I help you?

WOMAN

    Yes.  I'd like to buy some mechanical pencils.

MAN

    Do you live alone?

WOMAN

    Excuse me?

MAN

    What type of leads would you like?

WOMAN

    Hard.

MAN

    Do you live alone?

Day 172: Curio (day 1)

I invite you to enjoy a few selections from Curio ...my previously published chapbook of absurdist mini-plays inspired by 1000 Avant-Garde Plays by Kenneth Koch. A few years back, I had the opportunity to meet Koch, who was kind enough not only to autograph my copy of 1000 Avant-Garde Plays but also to allow me to give him a signed copy of Curio. A few weeks later I received a letter from Koch thanking me for the chapbook. Kenneth Koch passed away in 2002.  A truly gracious guy.
_________________________________________________________

Five Dollar Save

[November 1863.  Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.  Abraham Lincoln addresses the crowd.]

LINCOLN

    Four score and seven years ago, our forefathers...

A YOUNG BOY [pushing through the crowd]

    Mister President!  Mister President!

LINCOLN [pausing]

    Yes, son?

YOUNG BOY   

    Mister President, you have something hanging out of your nose.

LINCOLN [removes a handkerchief gratefully from his pocket and blows]

    Thank you, son.

[Lincoln hands the boy a five dollar bill with nobody's picture on it.]

Day 171: Father's Day

I want to wish all the dads out there a happy Father's Day.  It's a good time to pause to appreciate that we, as dads,  are valued, and to thank our own dads for giving us the strength, compassion, ingenuity, and patience to be good fathers to our children.

 
Dad holding me, 1963.

George Flynn, my grandmother's 2nd husband, the only grandfather I ever knew.

My mom's dad, Ernst, [standing] with my dad [in the T-Bird] c. 1963

Tori 'n' me.