Listening to Music with Dad

Since my Dad has passed on, it’s no longer possible to physically get together with him on Father’s Day anymore. However, there are other ways to connect. This evening, I sat out on my back porch with a glass of my favorite bourbon (purely to heighten the emotion) and played some of Dad’s favorite music.

I’ve always found something magical about music. When you hear that certain song, it can instantly take you back to an earlier time in life. And no matter how years have passed, you remember everything as if you were experiencing it all over again.

As John Denver’s “Country Roads” played through my Bluetooth speaker, I felt like I was walking through the “Field of Dreams” cornfield. As I came out of the other side, I found my 8-year-old self in the passenger side of my Dad’s pick-up truck……

“What do you think of this song, Dad?,” I asked.

He replied, “It’s a pretty good song, but that singer needs a haircut.”

This would be about the time the haircut wars began between my Dad and me. You see, I had huge ears as a child, and I was very self-conscious about it. So, I would look for any excuse to escape a haircut. But that is a story for another day….

My Dad was a frequent flyer at the area flea markets and yard sales. And in his travels, he would pick up an abundance of 8-track tapes. For you youngsters out there, 8-tracks were the first portable form of music for the everyday person. If you were driving in the early 70’s, an 8-track player was a must for any music lover. Anyway….

After an afternoon at the local flea market, Dad would come home with 8-tracks of Fats Domino, Neil Diamand, Johnny Cash, The Beach Boys, etc. And this is what we would listen to when we were driving together.

By the time I was 12 years old, I practically knew the entire catalog of some of these artists. Of all my Dad’s 8-Track stars, I would probably say that Neil Diamond was my favorite. The command that Neil had over a song and audience was quite impressive. Tonight, I played “I Am, I Said” to jump-start those old memories. Back in the day, while it was playing, my Dad and I did not talk. We just listened. And that’s what I did tonight…

Although my Dad was not a diehard Elvis fan, he did really like “Burning Love” when it hit the charts in the early 70's. I can remember him pushing the 8-track into the player and hearing Elvis coming to life through the lone speaker in the middle of the dashboard...

“Lord Almighy, I can feel my temperature rising.

Higher and higher, it’s burning through to my soul….”

The song was upbeat and full of energy. It was almost impossible to not dance to it. But my Dad was not a dancer, so he kept his eyes on the road and his hands up on the wheel while I nonchalantly got my groove on in the passenger’s seat.

We also listened to a lot of Beach Boys music. “Help Me Rhonda” was one of the songs that seemed to get the most play. And of course, “California Girls” was another popular selection. When David Lee Roth covered the song years later, it almost seemed like sacrilege to me. My Dad would have never approved of the Van Halen frontman’s version purely by the length of his hair.

I was also introduced to Merle Haggard at a young age. I can remember listening to “Okie From Muskogee” quite a few times. By 10 years old, I knew all the words by heart. It seems weird now. And although I have no idea where Muskogee is, I can still remember that it is the only place where squares can have a ball. So, maybe I should add a visit there to my bucket list.

And then there was Johnny Cash, the true southern music rebel. How could you not love this guy? I remember seeing my Dad holding back a laugh during “A Boy Named Sue”.  But when “Folsom Prison Blues” came on, the fun and games were over. It was time to get serious.

Whether it was fun or serious, it didn’t really matter. It was all about those rides in my Dad’s Ford pick-up truck listening to his second hand 8-track tapes. It was a long time ago, but it all comes back to life when I fire up those sentimental songs. And just like that, I'm 8-years-old again sitting next to my Dad as we roll down the highway....

kw

 

A Showdown with The Peanuts Gang

It started off as a nice, spring evening at the baseball field. My grandson, who plays for New York, was preparing for battle against the local Miami team. The teams, for some reason, aren’t called the Yankees or Marlins as you might expect. They simply have the city name displayed on their jerseys. I’m not sure why this is, but let’s not let it get in the way of a good story….

So, I set up my fold-up chair in a spot that will give me the best vantage point of the entire field. It's a nice grassy area just beyond 1st base and the "bullpen" of the New York club.

I had been trying to finish up some late day work duties, so I wound up rushing up to the ball field without eating dinner. Luckily, I had a bag of in-the-shell peanuts in the car. Perhaps not the ideal dinner, but it would have to do. And besides, baseball sort of goes along with peanuts. Who can forget the famous line, "Give me some peanuts and Cracker-Jack, I don't care if I ever get back"? To true baseball aficionados, that line is as golden as "And she's buying a stairway to heaven."

Again, I digress...

So, as I commence my evening meal, I casually toss the peanut shells onto the ground around my chair. I figure the shells are natural and will eventually be absorbed into the earth. If you can toss peanut shells onto the floor at the Texas Roadhouse, why should this grassy knoll be any different?

As I make my way through my legume dinner, I'm suddenly interrupted by a small gang of kids. Now, these kids didn't have any tattoos and they didn't appear to be wearing any distinct colors. But nonetheless, they were all business...

The leader reminded me of Grover Dill, Scott Farkus's little friend, in "A Christmas Story". He was the smallest member of the group. But his mouth made up for his lack of size. 

Grover Dill approaches me, with his posse scattered confidently around him. He looks at the random peanut shells on the ground for what seemed to be an eternity. And then he slowly shifted his gaze towards me. I was getting ready to ask him and his band of banditos to move so I could see the game. But before I could say anything, Grover Dill says, "You're littering!"

My instinctive response was, "Huh?"

"You're dropping your peanut shells all over the ground. You're littering.", he said.

"I'm not littering, I'm starting a peanut farm.", I explained. "In five years, if you come to this very spot, there will be beautiful peanut trees everywhere."

I could tell that he wasn't buying it. And it appeared to me that his posse was getting restless. So, my anxiety level naturally increased as I mentally prepared my next line of bullshit. Could I outwit these guys? And, if not, could I realistically take them in a street fight? One hand, I was much older and experienced, and I had the clear size advantage. But I was outnumbered, four to one. And these guys were showing no signs of backing down. This definitely was not their first rodeo.

Grover Dill breaks the uncomfortable moment of silence by informing me that it was Earth Day. I believe that it was an attempt to emphasize the guilt trip he was laying on me.

He then decided to throw the hammer down. He simply said, "Pick them up!"

Again, I instinctively replied with, "Huh?'

"It's Earth Day, you shouldn't be littering", he reaffirmed. "Now, pick them up."

The stand-off had officially begun. If I picked up the shells, it would be a sign of weakness. This might lead to further aggression by Grover and his gang. They might shake me down for my wallet and car keys next. I couldn't take that chance. You always have to be thinking one step ahead in these situations.

So, I stood defiantly and said, "Look kids, the peanut shells are staying where they are. Now, why don't you run along and find another litterer. I'm pretty sure I saw a guy behind home plate throw a Slim Jim wrapper on the ground a little while ago."

It turned out that it was the perfect thing to say at the perfect time. Grover Dill gave me one last glaring stare before he motioned for his posse to make their way towards home plate. But as they started their migration, one of the other guys decided to throw in the last words by yelling, "I'm calling 991!" 

Of course, we've all heard of the traditional 911 emergency number. But this kid was calling 991 on me! Is this the official number for peanut shell enforcement?

The Peanuts Gang rolled through the sea of fold-up chairs like a Sea-Ray chime-walking across the waves. And just like that, they were gone...

I'm not sure if I'll ever run into Grover and his boys again. But if I do, I hope I'm not eating peanuts...

kw

 

 

A Love Story of Sorts

It was mostly a routine workday for me. On this particular day, I happened to be working in a lab at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, MD. There are a lot of remarkable things that go on in this world renown medical institution. While I'm not directly involved in the actual magic, I do have a small supporting role in keeping the gears turning.

During the course of my troubleshooting duties on this day, I found that I needed to retrieve an item from my car. As I made my way through the hospital, I found myself behind an elderly couple. With her head covered in a colorful bandana, the woman looked quite frail. The man looked quite weak himself but was clearly the stronger of the two. He held the woman's hand as he slowly guided her down the hallway. While I had plenty of work waiting for me back in the lab, I was in no hurry to get around them. I was mesmerized by the beauty and sadness of what was in front of me.

I assumed that the woman was going through some type of cancer treatment. I have seen how these treatments can knock down much younger people. So, to see this little old lady going through it was especially heartbreaking.

The old man gently patted his wife's back as a token of encouragement. And while no words were exchanged between the two, you could sense that the man was saying, "Don't worry, it's going to be alright. I am here with you."

Fror a brief moment, they stopped walking. They simply looked at one another and smiled. And then they resumed their journey. You could tell that the couple had been together for a long time. And you could actually feel the love between them. 

I had only been "introduced" to them a few seconds ago, but I felt like I now knew them. 

At their age, it was quite obvious that their days together were running out. And I couldn't help but imagine the pain of the inevitable loss for the surviving spouse. But for the moment, they were cherishing their time together. As long as they had each other, nothing else really mattered....

As the couple finally made their way into oncology department, the image made a lasting imprint in my mind. I felt the urge to walk up and give them both a big hug. But I just watched as the man held the door and his wife slowly made her way into the room. The man followed behind her. And just like that, they disappeared.

I fought back tears all the way to the parking garage. I'll likely never see this couple again, but I will never forget them. They touched me and gave me a reality check that I desperately needed.

While we all get sidetracked with trivial things in life, we often take for granted the really simple things that are most important. And sometimes, we have to see it with our own eyes...

kw

Pains of the Modern-Day Grocery Shopper

There are certain things that I can count on every time I decide to pick up a few things at the grocery store. For instance, it never fails that I'll pick the shopping cart that has...

a) a wobbly wheel

b) a wheel that is stuck

c) discarded chicken bones or a half-eaten hot dog

d) bubble gum on the handle

Today, I was lucky enough to get the stuck wheel. I didn't really notice it as I pushed the cart across the bumpy asphalt parking lot. But the instant I hit the smooth floor inside the store, the wheel seemed to immediately lock up. Yeah, I could have grabbed another cart, but the odds are it would have had another defect from the list above. So, reluctantly I pushed on with my stubborn cart, leaving a rubber skid mark from the broken wheel behind. With all this being said, I was in Walmart recently and picked a cart with brand new wheels. I spent and extra half-hour walking around the store just because it felt so right.

One of the other things that really annoys me at the grocery store are the "gawkers". These are the people who stand in front of a particular item forever. For instance, I was looking for some nice steaks the other day. I usually prefer a NY Strip. So, I head over to the beef section. Right on cue, there's a woman blocking my access. Giving her a few minutes to get her ass in gear, I lurk around in front of the organ section. It's not like people are lining up to buy beef hearts and chicken gizzards, right? So, after I give her what I consider adequate time to move, I walk back over. Sure enough, she's still there. But this time she's deep into a text-message interchange. This leaves me no choice but to pull the old "excuse me while I reach across" move. Walking towards her, my eyes make contact with a ribeye directly in front of her body. I pull up within a few inches of her and then excuse myself as I reach across in front of her. This almost always causes the person to instinctively move a few feet in the opposite direction, giving me access to my coveted food item. If you ever run into a similar situation, feel free to use my tactic.

And of course, no store would be complete without the whiny kid. Sometimes, they whine about the Three Musketeers bar that Mommy won't let them open in the store. Or other times they scream because the bag boy looks like Marilyn Manson. But whatever the case may be, I will inevitably cross paths with that kid.

Another thing that has gained popularity in recent years is the online grocery shopping. As a result, you will inevitably see several store employees blocking the aisle with their large, wheeled racks as they hunt and gather for the virtual masses. Convenience or laziness? You be the judge....

And what's up with all of the electric scooters? I'm not kidding you, on one of my recent shopping trips, I saw a convoy of these things cruising past the Dorito's at the speed of a wounded snail. It kind of resembled a senior citizen biker gang claiming their turf in the snack aisle. No one could get by because they had the whole aisle blocked as they chatted obliviously.

Switching gears...

Why are the doors in frozen food aisle sometimes all fogged up? You can't see anything inside! One time, my face was nearly frostbitten after opening up fourteen doors in search of the Moose Tracks ice cream.

And speaking of moose tracks, don't even get me started on people that bring their dogs into the store.

And no matter what anyone tells me, the self-checkout line always takes considerably longer than a line with a live cashier. But since I have a control issue where I feel the need to do everything myself, I always feel a magnetic pull towards the self-scan line. I never make it through without at least one burst of profanity.

And why does the lady in front of me feel the need to organize her purse while I'm waiting to check out? I actually saw one woman methodically organize a wad of assorted dollar bills on the counter after her transaction was completed. I've seen bank tellers who didn't put this much effort in counting out the money. Keep in mind, there were about ten irritated customers waiting for her to finish. With all the time she was taking, I really thought she was preparing to do a magic trick for the crowd!

And when I swipe my Visa card, the machine always defaults to a debit payment. Normally, I hit the "red x" and then I'm prompted to carry on with the credit transaction. But on some occasions, the "red X" cancels everything and I'm greeted with "Please remove all items from the belt!" On at least one occasion, I was so pissed that I just walked out of the store and left everything on the belt. Mess with me, will they?

Why do contractor salesmen constantly harass shoppers as they enter the store? They approach me and ask me about my windows, doors, roof, etc. When I try to tell them I'm just hear to pick up a Mountain Dew and bag of pork rinds, they continue on with their sales pitch. It annoys the hell out of me!

Of course, we also have the recent ban on plastic bags. It's funny.....once upon a time, in an effort to save the trees, we were pushed away from paper bags in favor of the plastic ones. Now, it has come full circle and we're back to the paper bags. But only if you pay 10 cents for it. I guess the forests will continue flourish as long as you pay a dime for its sacrifice? I dunno....

And lastly, at a local chain of area grocery stores, when I approach the cashier, she'll always ask, "What school?" The first time I was presented with this question, I rattled off my high school, trade school and gave a long-winded explanation of why I never finished college. But after some research, I found out that these stores actually contribute a portion of their proceeds to the area schools. The shopper is given the choice of which school receives the cut from his/her sale. But I still like to have a little fun every now and then by answering the "What school" question with Ordnance Road Correctional Center. It always creates a confused look from the poor cashier......

Yeah, it's probably a good thing that Tina does most of the shopping.

kw

Father's Day - Early Jobs and Bicycles

 As we commence another Father's Day, I think about the importance and impact of having a father. During those early years, we lean on our Dad's for that guidance and support, even though we might not fully understand it yet. As the years go by, we slowly learn what it's all about. With Dad's mentoring, we transition into the successful young adult who is ready to take on the world.

My Dad thought me a lot of valuable lessons. He believed that a verbal agreement and handshake were as good as any contract. While he would learn later than it's probably still a good idea to get things in writing, he always held up his end of the bargain. But he always stressed that if you tell someone that you're going to do something, you follow through with it. 

My Dad worked most of his life as a carpenter. His talent seemed to come naturally as he picked up the skills quickly as a young adult. He tried his best to teach me all he knew about the trade. While I never matched his expertise, I still learned to frame a wall and trim out a room. When I was 16, my Dad got me a summer job with his company. The first week, I was given the task of cleaning up the job site. By the second day, the main foreman, a tough-looking older man, approached me. He said, "You're Ervin's son, right?"

"Yes, sir", I replied.

He asked, "What are you doing with a broom in your hand?"

I really didn't understand the question. So, I replied, "Um, I was told to clean up this area".

"Well, if you're Erv's son, I'm sure you know how to swing a hammer, right?", he asked.

I wasn't sure if I was in some kind of trouble. So, I elaborated, "Yes, sir. I've been working with my Dad since I was 12 years old. I can swing a hammer, lay out a partition, crown the joists, whatever you need done."

He smiled and said, "That's what I figured. Put the broom down and grab your hammer. Meet me on the other side of the house and I'll introduce you to the framing crew." 

And just like that, my Dad's reputation advanced me to the framing crew for the rest of the summer. I know it doesn't seem like a big deal. But at the time, for me, it was like Wolfgang getting bumped up to bass player on the Van Halen tour.

My Dad and I worked many jobs together through the years. And while he could be a hard-ass and we did argue a lot, I wouldn't have traded it for the world. 

We lived a modest life and my Dad never made a whole lot of money. But he was very frugal and knew how to stretch a dollar. While we had a great childhood, we never had anything that could be called extravagant. Well, at least not yet...

I remember one time a few years earlier, I was walking through Montgomery Ward with my Dad. As I passed the bicycle section, I had an epiphany. There, in front of me, was the coolest looking bike I had ever seen. I still remember that it was a commemorative edition in celebration of the 1976 Olympic games. It was a tan marvel of sheer beauty. I stood there like the kid in "A Christmas Story" gawking at the Red Ryder BB gun. My Dad approached a short time later and said, "Come on, let's go."

"Hold up, Dad. Check this bike out. Isn't that coolest thing you've ever seen?", I asked.

He gave it a quick glance and then his gaze fixated on the price tag. He replied, "That price ain't so cool. That thing is a hundred dollars, Kenny. You know how many hours I have to work to make a hundred dollars?'

And just like that, I had my own personal version of "You'll shoot your eye out, kid!'

On the way home, my Dad felt the need to offer me a consolation prize. So, he asks, "If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

I half expected him to turn the truck around and head back to Montgomery Ward. So, I instinctively blurted out, "A commemorative 1976 Olympic 10-speed!"

He smiled as he turned his truck into the Gino's parking lot. My Dad knew that the only thing that could rival my dream bike was a Gino Giant. So, we went inside and he ordered up two Gino Giant meals and we sat down and enjoyed them over a conversation about the Orioles. The bike wasn't brought up again.

Fast forward about one month later...

As I come home from a hard day of playing at that local park, I notice my Dad is working on something in his garage. This wasn't anything abnormal as he was always tinkering with something back there. I walked through the yard and made my way to the garage. I wanted to remind Dad that the O's game was coming on shortly. From a distance, I could see that my Dad was working on a bike. Now, I had an old Huffy bike that I kept in the garage. So, I figured maybe he was sprucing it up for me. But as I got to the door, I almost fainted. Lo and behold, it was my dream bike! 

While I was out at the park, my Dad made that elusive trip back to Montgomery Ward and bought me the bike. I swear, I almost cried. Because, even at that young age, I knew that money was tight. But my Dad got it for me anyway.

I just stood there in amazement for a minute. And then I asked, "I don't understand. What made you buy this?"

He just smiled and replied, "You're a good boy. And you deserve to have a nice bike. I want you to enjoy it."

That was one of the best days of my life. I rode the bike everywhere. I absolutely loved it!

The bike was eventually stolen and never recovered (a sad time., for sure). But the memories that it produced were priceless.

To all of the great Dads out there who have made so many positive impacts, I say thank you. And be sure to enjoy your Father's Day. You deserve it!

kw

The Power of Vocabulary

Through the years, I've discovered that a vast vocabulary is key to developing your interpersonal and communication skills. These skills are crucial. in my opinion, to succeeding in the real world. Having a wide variety of words in your arsenal cannot be underestimated. 

When I was young, I was really intimidated by highly intelligent people. They would often use words that I had never heard. And sometimes, even if I had heard the word, I had no idea what it meant. I still remember one particular incident. I had just started my first field service job. During a conversation with my customer, I inserted a lame bit of humor. The customer gave me a bewildered look and asked, "Are you being facetious?"

Of course, I had heard the word "facetious" before and I thought I knew what it meant. But I wasn't confident enough to be sure. So, falling on my sword, I responded, "No, I'm only joking with you."

That brought an even more bewildered look from the guy. I immediately knew that my verbal gamble was a total bust. I immediately left the site and drove to a local bookstore and bought a pocket dictionary. From that day on, I made it point to make a list of any "strange" words that I encountered. These words would be looked up later. I then reenforced my understanding by using the word at the next opportunity. I would sometimes use the new word in the wrong context which is even more embarrassing that not knowing the basic definition. But sometimes you have to take two steps back before you can move forward.

A simple word used in the appropriate context is quite powerful...

One of my favorite all-time movies is "The Big Lebowski". The main character (The Dude) is a pot-smoking, White Russian swigging, part-time bowler. But when he says, "The aggression will not stand, man", it resonates with the audience. If this type of thing can make "The Dude" sound more sophisticated, just imagine what it can do for you.

Since we're talking about vocabulary, I have to make an unflattering confession here. I have always had a serious problem with profanity. One of my ultimate goals has always been to substitute a more appropriate adjective any time I feel the urge to blurt out my beloved f-word. I haven't had a whole lot of success in this area. The struggle is real. Tina has reprimanded me on countless occasions. She'll ask, "Do you really have to curse so much?"

"'No, but here I am killing it", I'll reply.

I know it's an issue that I should really put a little more effort into fixing. But when I'm in the heat of a passionate discussion, it sometimes seems a little more impactful to throw in a f-bomb. Let me give you an example. If I say "He's out of his mind", you might think about it for a moment and then quickly forget about it. But if I say, "He's out of his f*cking mind", I've now got your full attention. You instantly feel engaged and want to hear more. Perhaps sad, but definitely true.

Ok, I think I'm digressing a bit...

Whenever I start an article, I look at the blank page the same way an artist might view a blank canvas. While the artist might use a variety of colors and carefully placed lines and curves to bring his image to life, I try to "paint" my page with strategically placed words to invoke an emotion from the reader. The same thing applies to public speaking. If you use the right words at the right time, it can really have a lasting effect on people.

This whole piece was sparked by my "Word of the Day" (Yes, that's right, I subscribe to Marriam-Webster's "Word of the Day" email). Today's word happened to be ken. Up until this morning, I had no idea that it was a word. All of these years, I thought it was just a name that was given to special people. But yes, ken is actually a word which is defined as "the range of perception, understanding and knowledge". And I can't wait to start using this one! 

I have a shirt that says, "People say that I'm condescending (That means that I talk down to people)". I think I'll parlay this same type of sarcasm (or facetiousness) with my new word. The next time I find myself in a frustrating debate, I might say something like, "You clearly don't have the ken to have this conversation with me."

Now, go out and learn a new word today!

kw

Mom Turns 80

I was still in high school when my Mom was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. We really didn't understand what it meant. And we had no idea of the impact that it would have on her in the subsequent years.

As time moved on, my Mom's health continued to decline. She was progressively robbed of her overall mobility. In the initial stages, she used a walker to help guide her along. A few years later, she relied on a battery-operated scooter to move around. We used to joke with her about her "driving skills" as she occasionally took a corner too sharp and gouged the sheetrock or wood molding. It would drive my Dad nuts! At the first sound of impact, he would pop out of his La-Z-Boy recliner and say, "God dammit, Linda! Watch where you're going! I just fixed that wall last week!"

While we tried to keep things light and positive, we knew the seriousness of Mom's bumpy road. She eventually wound up in a electric wheelchair that she controlled with a small joystick. Within a few years, she was no longer able to drive the chair herself. Her mobility now relied on someone else pushing her wheelchair. Sadly, today she is pretty much confined to her bed.

And last year, she starting losing her ability to swallow. So a feeding tube was inserted. Eating, one of the most basic joys in life, was cruelly snatched away. The blows just never seem to stop coming.

The most amazing thing through all of this is that my Mom never gave up hope. And she never complained. Not matter how bad things got, she always viewed it as a temporary setback and believed that tomorrow would be a better day. I found it inspiring and did my best to channel her positive energy into my own life. There were times when I would find myself in a bad spot. Like most of us, my first inclination was to feel sorry for myself. But I would always look at my Mom's way of handling adversity and I would instantly see things differently. After all, whatever I was going through at the time could not even remotely compare to what my Mom was going through. 

I never quite understood cliches like "everything happens for a reason". But if there are two things that I took from my Mom's dire situation, they are: #1. Don't waste time feeling sorry for yourself. It serves no purpose. Get your ass together and start looking for a solution. #2. Don't ever give up!

Admittedly, my Mom's outlook noticeably changed after my Dad's passing in 2016. But she still somehow finds hope with each new day.

Today, my Mom celebrated her 80th birthday. With Roy Orbison streaming from a Bluetooth speaker and her grandkids running rampant, I saw her smile for the first time in a long time.

Mom had a good day today. And that makes me smile....

kw