The Camden Yards Bobblehead Debate

This past Friday, the Baltimore Orioles hosted "Tupac Shukur Bobblehead Night" at Camden Yards. I know, you're probably wondering what initiated this. After all, Tupac has about as much in common with Orioles baseball as the World Series. But nonetheless, countless Tupac fans lined up before the game to secure their bobbling treasure.

To break down the significance of Tupac's ties to Baltimore, here's the way I understand it. He lived in Baltimore from 1984 to 1988. During that time, he spent 8th grade at Roland Park Middle School and 9th grade at Dunbar High School. He then transferred to the Baltimore School for the Performing Arts where he studied poetry, acting, jazz and ballet. So, there you have the Baltimore connection.

Now, you're probably asking, "So, what does this have to do with the Orioles?" Great question!

Major League Baseball started a "City Connect" promotion a couple of years ago. One of the highlights of this program is locally inspired jerseys worn by the home team on Friday nights. Since the Tupac bobblehead promotion occurred at a Friday game, it could legitimately fit the "city connect" criteria. 

"But why Tupac?", you ask.

That's another great question. After all, there are plenty of other people with Baltimore connections that are arguably more worthy. Let's take Dr. Ben Carson, for example. With as much as he's accomplished and as much good as he's done for humanity, he would seem like a worthy candidate for a Bobblehead Night in Baltimore. Or what about Thurogood Marshall? And isn't #1 selling author Tom Clancy part of the O's ownership team? Where's his bobblehead? And what about Balimore's own Michael Phelps? Sure, he has plenty of gold medals. But does he have an O's bobblehead?

But let's dig a little deeper...

Since we're talking Baltimore baseball and bobbleheads, what about Babe Ruth? Didn't his father own a bar at the site that is currently Camden Yards? And didn't Babe actually play for the Baltimore Orioles? Yes, I know it's not the same Orioles, but they were still from Baltimore! By the way, Babe went on to have quite the legendary baseball career with the Red Sox and Yankees. But it all began in Baltimore. Give the man a bobblehead!

And since Tupac is tied to the music world, it would be crazy not lobby for a Joan Jett Bobblehead Night. Yes, Joan is a rock and roll badass. But she is also a huge Oriole's fan. Similar to Tupac, she grew up in Maryland (Rockville) at a young age where she developed her interest in music. Through the years, she has been seen at Camden Yards in her Orioles colors, cheering on the team. And she's quite knowledgeable about the team. She talks the talk and walks the walk as an O's fan. She needs a bobblehead!

And we're not done with the O's music connection yet. Can we get a bobblehead for the late, great John Denver? For you youngsters, John Denver was massively successful artist with several #1 hits in the 70's. But the tie to the Orioles, of course, is his beloved 7th inning stretch anthem, "Thank God I'm A Country Boy". The song was first introduced by long-time O's shortstop, Mark Belanger in 1975. The song quickly caught on and has played at O's games for over 50 years. In 1983, John Denver was invited to sing the National Anthem to kick off Game 1 of the World Series. During the 7th inning stretch, he stepped atop the Oriole's dugout and led the crowd in a thunderous rendition of his song. The O's went on to win the '83 World Series in five games. And they haven't been back to the series since. Give John Denver a bobblehead!

So, am I upset that Tupac got his bobblehead? Absolutely not. Anything that brings a little fun to the ballpark is ok with me. While I'm not personally a Tupac fan, there are obviously plenty of people who are. Friday night's attendance was the highest since Opening Day. But I do wonder if Tupac was an O's fan. Or if he ever attended an O's game at Camden Yards. But that's neither here nor there.

If people want to wait in line for hours to get a bobblehead, more power to them. I'll be over at Pickles Pub having a pre-game Natty Boh. (That's actually how I missed out on getting a Adley Rutschman bobblehead last year, But that's another story).

kw

Powerball Dreams

With the current Powerball jackpot approaching the $2 billion mark, the scramble to secure that winning ticket is in full frenzy. People are lining up at gas stations and convenience stores in hopes of buying a significant lifestyle upgrade. The chances are of winning the jackpot are probably greater than getting hit twice by lightning after getting bit by a shark. But with these overwhelming odds against them, it does not discourage people...

A potential winner daydreams about driving his new Lombardini to his waterfront mansion. But for now, he pulls his weathered Chevy sedan into the parking lot of his local Royal Farms store. He quickly awakens to reality as he bangs his knee on the door frame as he exits the vehicle. Making his way inside, he totally ignores the savory scent of fried chicken and takes his place in line at the lottery kiosk. As he waits his turn, he toggles back to his daydream.....

We can all relate to this to some extent. I mean, who doesn't dream about becoming rich and debt-free overnight? 

So, let's dig into this. What would happen if you actually won the PowerBall jackpot?

The first big decision that you would have to make is whether to take a huge one-time payment or take your jackpot winnings over the next 29 years. While most people would probably opt to take the one-time payment, does it really make the most sense? You would certainly pocket more of the money if you took it over the long term. And many people don't realize that the taxes aren't factored into the lump payment. For example, if the jackpot is $1 billion, you might receive $400 million. So essentially, you're giving away the majority of your money in exchange for getting a big payout now.

And many people assume that the reason that the lump payout is so significantly reduced is because the taxman takes his cut at the time of the payout. No, sir! You will still have to pay tax on the $400 million which will likely reduce your winnings by another $100+ million. So, by the time it's all said and done, from a $1 billion jackpot, you might "only" pocket about $250 million. Yes folks, the state always wins!

So, why does the government shaft you for taking the lump payment, you ask? Essentially, it's because you're cutting into their capital. By screwing you out of hundreds of millions of dollars, they can now take "your" money and "invest" it in things that the government sees fit. 

But wait there's more!

The reduced lump sum that the state actually lets you keep is handed off to an insurance company. The annuity payments are paid to you by these companies, and they assume any risk. The state washes their hands and walks away to another lottery payday. So, you see, the lottery is basically a Paul Bunyan-size cash cow for the state in every way.

If you're financially savvy, you can always take a big chunk of your jackpot and invest it. If you play you cards right, you could eventually recoup all of the money that you gave back to the government. Of course, this would be over a long course of time and it's not guaranteed. Keep in mind, roughly 90% of the lump-sum lottery recipients blow through all of their money within a few years. Are you financially disciplined enough to gain entry to the 10% Club?

Taking the 29-year annuity on a huge jackpot makes more sense, especially if you're relatively young. In addition to having a yearly paycheck, you also get a 5% increase every year to adjust for inflation. Not a bad deal when you consider that most working-class folks are only getting about a 3% increase. 

Another huge advantage of taking the annuity is that you receive the full $1 billion jackpot (minus taxes). And as hard as it might seem to live off of $50 million a year, I have confidence that you can you. And think about it, with the 5% annual increase, you're going to get at least a $2.5 million bonus each year.

And some people have the notion that the annuity would stop if you passed away early. While it's not something you would need to worry about because you'd be dead, it's something to consider beforehand. If you pass away, the remaining payouts will go to your estate or your designated beneficiaries. 

From the time of winning, you have 60 days to choose the lump sum vs. the annuity option. But get a head start and start thinking about it now!

......the man awakes from his daydream as he gets nudged to move ahead by the impatient customer behind him. He tries to decide on how much cash to shove into the mouth of the lottery kiosk. In the end, he opts to play a single $2 ticket. His thought is that it only takes one ticket to win. Why couldn;t this be the one?

Best of luck to everyone. And even if you don't win, enjoy your current blessings. Remember, the best things in life can't be bought.

Wishing all of you a safe and Merry Christmas!

kw

Ace Frehley - The Spaceman

There have been many great decades of rock and roll. But my favorite was the 1970's. There were many reasons. But perhaps the most compelling was being introduced to the "hottest band in the land", Kiss. 

The theatrical element was what initially caught my eye. But I was also hypnotically drawn to their music. Without being overly sophisticated, their songs had catchy guitar riffs and infectious hooks that had all of their young fans singing along and playing air guitar. One of their biggest hits, "Rock and Roll All Night", became an instant rock and roll anthem.

While all of the band members were uniquely entertaining, the one that I found to be the "coolest" was Ace Frehley. The self-proclaimed "Spaceman" had a laid-back presence that emphasized his mystique. With his signature sunburst Les Paul, he would ultimately rip into a solo as smoke poured out of his humbucker pickups. As hordes of fans witnessed this every night, Ace rapidly solidified his status as a rock and roll icon.

Ace Frehley inspired countless youngsters to pick up the guitar. Many successful guitar players of today will give Ace credit for peaking their rock and roll interest. Back in the day, every aspiring young guitar had dreams of being Ace one day. Some achieved that goal while others had a hell of a time trying.

I had all of the Kiss albums when I was growing up. But the one that I found especially interesting was "Love Gun". While it was chock full of the signature Kiss sound, there was one song that stood out for me. Unlike the previous Kiss albums, "Love Gun" featured a song ("Shock Me") with Ace on lead vocals. Quite a bit different that Gene Simmons' deep demonic voice, Paul Stanley's power vocals or Peter Criss' raspiness, Ace Frehley's voice had a quirky tone to it. But I really liked it. It was a slightly different flavor on the traditional Kiss recipe.

"Shock Me", somewhat poetically, was written as a result of Ace being electrocuted at a 1976 concert in Florida. The short version of the story is that Ace touched an ungrounded metal staircase railing. Besides knocking the Kiss guitarist down, the shock also caused him to lose feeling in his hand for the rest of the concert. But as they say, the show must go on. And it did as well as inspiring Ace to write one of Kiss' most classic songs.

A short time later, the iconic Kiss solo albums were released. The first one that I bought was none other than Ace's. I loved the whole album but the most popular song on the album was "New York Groove". The song had a nice groove (no pun intended) to it and Ace's vocal style complimented it perfectly. The song was the popular of all of the Kiss solo songs, reaching #13 on the US Billboard Hot 100 singles chart in 1978. Unknown to even some of the diehard Kiss fans, Ace did not write "New York Groove" It's actually a cover song that was recorded a few years earlier by a glam band called Hello. The Ace solo record, not surprisingly, was the most successful of the four.

Ace left Kiss in the early 80's to pursue a solo career. He went on to release nine studio albums as a solo artist. While he had a following of loyal fans, he did not achieve the level of success that he had seen with Kiss. 

Ace reunited with the original members in 1996. I caught one of those shows at the old Capital Center in Largo, MD. And it was everything I had hoped for. Donned in full Kiss make-up, the energetic stage show brought back memories of those early concerts of the 70's. Of course, all good things must come to an end (again). A few years later, Ace left the band to resume his solo career.

Ace also wrote his autobiography ("No Regrets - A Rock and Roll Memoir") in 2011. It's a very interesting read, told in a true Ace-like way. I highly recommend it.

Sadly, Ace passed away yesterday at the age of 74. He was still performing right up until the very end. Ace was a rock and roll trooper. He made his carved his mark by becoming one of rock's most recognizable and influential guitar players. There will never be another like him. Rest easy, Spaceman. And thanks for the memories....

kw

My State of the Union (with a dash of Charlie Kirk)

Once upon time, there was a belief that we, the people, would grow stronger as a society. As we made our way through the years, we would correct the mistakes of past generations. Our differences would eventually be molded into amiable place for all sides. In the end, we would leave the world a little bit better than we found it.

That plan seemed to be working for many generations. But somewhere along the line, we found a fork in the road. And it appears that we took the wrong path....

Our country is now in a "us versus them" dilemma. The mentality is to pick your team and fight the other team until the clock runs out. Compromise seems to be a lost art that no one wants to even consider anymore.

The recent assignation of Charlie Kirk only poured gas on the fire. While there are many on "the other team" who vehemently disagreed with Kirk's views, I think we should all agree that killing someone over their political views is wrong. Period. Kirk's murder was horrific in itself. But what's also horrific is the number of people who actually celebrated it. This is a glaring example of what's wrong in America today.

The constant barrage of emotional posts on social media only increases the temperature on the political divide. And the news media is just as bad as they slant their reporting to support "their team". The goal is to ignite the powder keg in an effort to get more viewers or subscribers. And the American people are the collateral damage left in the rubble...

Cell phones and social media have done so much damage to our society. The problem is not only the biased news reports, but also the slew of misinformation and lies that infect our minds. Just scroll through Facebook and you'll find that half of the posts aren't even true. And the majority of people won't take to the time to verify it. 

Part of the issue today is that we spend way too much time on our electronic devices and not nearly enough time talking to each other. And this poison has infiltrated it's way into our kid's lives. Their young minds are being formed by so much of the nonsense that they are being fed through these devices. A few months ago, Charlie Kirk said, "Kids spell love T-I-M-E". Let that sink in for a moment....

I have mentioned Charlie Kirk because, yes, I am very upset about his senseless killing. In the aftermath, I was left furious (which I still am, by the way). I often let my emotions get the best of me and say things in the moment that I regret later. At 60 years old, I am still a work in progress. Just this morning, Tina, who is always my voice of reason, told me that anger and a knee-jerk reaction was exactly what the "other team" wanted. And she's right. 

I also ask myself, "What would Charlie do?"

I think that Charlie did things the right way. While you didn't have to agree with him, at least the man was willing to sit down and have a conversation with you. And what's wrong with that?

Most people know that I have mostly conservative views. But like Charlie, I have had my share of conversations with people who see things another way. In the end, we all found a way to get along and live/work together in a positive way. The key is to have a civil dialogue. While there will be times that we ultimately have to agree to disagree, we will at least know a little more about where people are coming from.

So, now we're at a crossroads....Do we double down and go even harder at each other? Or do we do a complete reset and try to move forward as a country?

Frankly, I am tired of the two-teamed country that we've become. My core beliefs and values, like most of you, will remain the same. But can't we find a way live in one America? At the very least, we should try. If not for ourselves, for our kids, grandkids and future generations. 

If you do one thing today, be nice someone. It might inspire someone else to do the same. Trust me, it does the soul good....

kw

Ozzy - Rock & Roll Legend

One of the first rock albums that I ever bought was Black Sabbath's "Paranoid". It's the band's most popular album and arguably their best. The heavy guitar riffs laid the foundation for countless hard rock bands that would follow. 

By the way, "Paranoid" was released 55 years ago. Think about that for a minute. An album, more than a half-century old, that is still very relevant today. That's some legendary stuff right there!

And speaking of legendary, the clever lyrics and high-octane vocals on the album were the perfect complement to the dark, heavy music. The person behind this was, of course, the one and only Ozzy Osbourne. And Ozzy was just getting warmed up. He would go onto to have a long career of success, with the band and as a solo artist.

When Ozzy left Black Sabbath, I don't think anyone was expecting what came next. The release of his first solo record, "Blizzard of Ozz", took the rock and roll world by storm. The album had more power than an Energizer bunny on steroids. Absolutely loaded from top to bottom, there was not a weak song on the whole record. The guitar riffs were quite different than the classic Sabbath stuff. And that was due to a young stud guitarist named Randy Rhodes. But similar to the Sabbath songs, Ozzy's vocals and intriguing lyrics brought them to life. Ozzy's debut album would be another one of his collaborations that would stand the test of time. Every bit as good as "Paranoid", in my opinion.

I can remember teenagers blaring Ozzy songs through their boomboxes at the local park. This was back in the day when cassettes were the popular media source. Everyone would get bummed out when the D-cell batteries began to wear down because the music would noticeably start to slow down. If you played your boombox at full volume, like most people did, you might get a couple hours before the batteries were completely drained. This was long before modern long-lasting Bluetooth speakers. 

The prolific songwriter would spend the next few decades creating a catalog of iconic rock and roll songs. They ranged from fist-pounding tunes like "Over The Mountain" to heartfelt tributes like "Mama I'm Coming Home". Interesting enough, the lyrics to "Mama, I'm Coming Home" were written by Motorhead's Lemmy, a good friend of Ozzy. It would make it to #28 on the Billboard Top 40. Ozzy also had some Top 40 success with "Close My Eyes Forever, a power-ballad duet with Lita Ford. My personal favorite Ozzy ballad is "Changes", one of Black Sabbath's early songs. And of course, there were rock and roll anthems like "Crazy Train" that were ultimately adopted by professional sports teams to pep up the stadium crowds. There was something for everyone.

The funny thing about Ozzy is that he often seemed almost unintelligible during conversations and interviews. And he would also rhythmically drop f-bombs between words. But when you eventually deciphered what he said, his responses were witty, accurate and downright hilarious. His mind worked in a unique way. His poignant lyrics are a testament to this. Ozzy was a genius when it came to penning the perfect words and delivering them with just the right amount attitude and conviction.

Ozzy' personality was larger than life. Someone eventually came up with the brilliant idea to capture this in the form of a reality TV show. "The Osbournes" premiered in March of 2002 and did not disappoint. Hearing Ozzy calling for his wife, Sharon, every time he ran into a dilemma was classic.

We often hear the overused expression "one of a kind". But I really think it applies perfectly to Ozzy. Sure, there loony musicians before and after him. But Ozzy was unique. From biting the heads off bats and doves to pissing on The Alamo, Ozzy carved out his special place in rock mayhem. Like some of the other "one name" superstars, when you hear "Ozzy", you know exactly who it is. 

It was great that Ozzy got to reunite with his old Black Sabbath bandmates a couple of weeks ago for the "Back to the Beginning" concert in Birmington, England. The concert was attended by 40,000 fans and a plethora of inspired musicians who played throughout the day. The main event was the four original members of Black Sabbath. They performed four of their well-known songs. Due to his physical decline in recent years, Ozzy sang the songs while seated in a throne. Although he was seated, the fire was still evident during his performance. This was indeed the perfect swan song. The event also raised nearly $200 million for children's hospitals and Parkinson's disease research. 

Sadly, Ozzy passed away on Tuesday. But he left behind an abundance of musical love for his countless fans around the world. He went out just the way he lived....BIG!

kw

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 Diamond, 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."

For 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

Francis Scott Key Bridge - The Memories

As I rolled out of bed in the early morning, I checked the messages on my phone. I saw a strange message from Ken Jr regarding the collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge. I rubbed my eyes to ensure that they were seeing clearly. Then I checked the message again and the result was the same. So, I rushed downstairs where Tina was pouring her first cup of morning coffee. 

"Have you heard anything about the Key Bridge?", I asked.

She replied, "What are you talking about?"

I grabbed the remote and woke up the kitchen television. As the TV screen came to life, both of our jaws dropped. With a mangled collection of steel protruding out of the water in the background, the news headline confirmed what we did not want to hear...

My first recollections of the Key Bridge go back to when I was a young boy. My best friend's Dad (Mr. Don) worked at the old Bethlehem Steel plant in Sparrows Point. He would tell us how the bridge would make his daily commute to work so much easier. The steel plant would be located just past the east side of the bridge. The bridge construction was finally completed in 1977. I can't really remember the first time I personally went over the bridge, but I suspect that it was with Mr. Don. I remember that he always had a book of yellow tickets on the dashboard of his truck. These were the "frequent flyer" tickets that you could buy for a discount if you frequently traveled the bridge (or nearby Harbor Tunnel).

Years later, I remember getting my first speeding ticket on the bridge. The bridge was empty and a sudden thought of "What would Steve McQueen do?" overwhelmed me. So, after slowly proceeding through the toll booth on the east side (there was no EZ-Pass back then), I accelerated towards the top of the bridge. Sitting high atop the Patapsco River, I felt like an eagle with four wheels. As I approached the peak of the bridge, I was really cruising. As I started the descent on the Curtis Bay side of the bridge, I thought about letting off of the gas. But there were no other cars in front of me, so it was full speed ahead....

When I came off of the bridge, my peripheral vison quickly transitioned from the Patapsco River to a Maryland Transportation Authority Police car. Without slamming on the brakes, I tried my best to slow down before passing the MTA cop. I thought I might have decelerated just enough to stay off of his radar. As I made that familiar glance in my rearview mirror, I realized that I didn't. He came off of the shoulder of the road with his lights a-flashin'. He clocked me at 74 mph. I was actually relived that it was "only" 74. He gave me the speeding ticket and I proceeded home at the posted speed limit.

When I was a teenager, I would occasionally party with friends at Fort Armistead Park. The fort was built at the turn of the 20th century and initially served as a coastal defense base. But it was eventually abandoned and left to the partiers and graffiti artists. The park sat just at the foot of the Key Bridge. After knocking back a cooler full of Budweiser with friends, the bridge was always a magnificent sight as it stretched across the star-lit sky. Sitting on the edge of the river, you felt like you could almost reach out at touch it.

Several years later, I found myself working at the nearby US Gypsum plant. I worked in the manufacturing (or board department) part of the plant. But occasionally I would get "invited" to help unload one of the gypsum ships. These ships would travel down from Nova Scotia and propel their way under the Key Bridge to the Baltimore plant. Baltimore is the country's #1 importer of gypsum. There's a pretty good chance that you have some of it hanging on your walls. The finished product is better known as Sheetrock.

In more recent years, I would occasionally travel over the Key Bridge to get to places like Johns Hopkins and other downtown Baltimore sites. It was a great alternative way to get there. I never quite understood it, but my phone signal would always drop midway over the bridge. 

The familiar Baltimore landmark that I traveled over at marveled at for so many years is gone. In a matter of seconds, it was reduced to a pile of metal scattered in the river below. But the image of the Francis Scott Key Bridge standing firmly in front of the morning sun is something that I'll never forget...

kw

Francis Scott Key Bridge - The People

Baltimore woke up this morning to what seemed like a surreal gut-punch. Watching the video of the Francis Scott Key Bridge collapsing into the Patapsco River below was hard to absorb. Thoughts of an early April Fool’s prank immediately entered the mind. Sadly, this wasn’t the case…

I will share Key Bridge memories and my thoughts on the community impact later. But today, I just want to take a few minutes to talk about the victims and the people working behind the scenes.

When the bridge workers started their shift last night, they probably envisioned an uneventful night. The next morning would inevitably usher in a new day as they would head home to their families. Sadly, the night took a tragic turn and several of those workers are still unaccounted for. While we never want to give up hope, optimism is fading fast. The mission is still considered a search and rescue so let’s continue to focus on that. My heart goes out to the families who are, no doubt, being emotionally tortured right now.

As usual, our first responders immediately stepped up and went into action. Rescue divers unselfishly took to the frigid waters to begin the search. I can’t imagine what goes through the minds of these brave individuals. They are thrown into what seems like a hopeless situation. But they forge ahead anyway. 

And the folks who took immediate action to stop traffic seconds before the bridge collapsed need to be commended. There’s no telling how many lives they saved. And kudos to the dispatchers who quickly lined up the appropriate response teams following the collapse.

And I must give credit to Governor Wes Moore. The man has shown the steadiness of a true leader throughout the day. With the collapsed bridge looking in the background, he has given Marylanders hope that things are going to be ok. If pressure builds diamonds, this is his moment.

And if my previous paragraph surprises anyone, fasten your seat belts. I am also commending Mayor Brandon Scott and Baltimore County Executive Johnny Olszewski. These guys were called out in the middle of the night to deal with this unfathomable catastrophe. They have spent the day settling nerves and meeting with the families of the bridge workers. Transportation Secretary, Pete Buttigieg deserves credit as well. He showed up and responded accordingly. Enough said. We can debate politics another day. Times like this call for unity.

There are so many other people working behind the scenes that often don’t get mentioned. The folks who have assembled to provide food for the first responders and rescue workers. The healthcare personnel who are available for standby counseling. The local churches who organized support services. And the overall compassion that the entire community has shown.

The travel and economic impact of this will be dealt with later. For now, let’s continue to help each other through the emotional impact….

kw

 

 

 

Being Paul Stanley

It seems like I’m about the only person in the Baltimore area who wasn’t at the Kiss show earlier this week. I scrolled through countless photos and videos on Facebook after the show and it looks like it was a blast. The last time that I saw Kiss was back in 1996 on the original reunion tour at the now defunct Capital Centre (or was it the US Air Arena at that time?).  And while I thought the ticket price was a bit high at $50 back then, it pales in comparison to the prices of today. That’s one of the primary reasons that I don’t go to many shows these days. The other reason is that I like to be in bed by 10 o’clock. Yes, I know. I’m cheap, old, and boring. But let’s move on…

Anyone who has ever been to a Kiss show or seen a video of a Kiss show knows that Paul Stanley has always has a predictable banter with the audience. In his loud, powerful voice, he’ll introduce random songs with his personalized touch. For instance, he might say, “Hey y’all, I want to tell you something! When I’m up here on this stage, I can barely control my excitement! You guys have been a terrific audience and I want you to give yourself a round of applause! Now, it’s time to pull the trigger of my LOVE GUN!”

Paul has a real connection with the crowd. His intros are really effective in getting the fans primed for each song. With all of this being said, I’ve often wondered what would happen if I became Paul Stanley for a day. I’m not talking about painting a black star on my eye and parading around in platform boots. But I’d like to use Paul’s introductions for my everyday interactions.

For example, when I pass Tina in the kitchen first thing in the morning, I’ll say, “I see you over there by the coffee pot! You gotta ask yourself a question! You gonna use two Splendas or only one!? C’mon on now, make up your mind and stop standin’ ‘round like a HARD LUCK WOMAN!”

And when the Fedex guy comes strolling down my driveway, I’ll jump out of the bushes and startle him with, “As you deliver those boxes to the front of my door, I can tell that you’re workin’ yourself up quite a thirst! And when you’re workin’ hard, you don’t want no Coca-Cola! The only thing that will do is COLD GIN!”

For a bonus, I’ll immediately transition into an air guitar version of the intro riff to “Cold Gin” as he returns to his delivery truck.

Later on, as I make my way through the grocery store, I see that someone has dropped a jar of tomato sauce on the floor. Trying to get as much attention as possible from the Safeway shoppers, I shout, “Gather ‘round people! I can clearly see that we need a clean-up in aisle five! But don't let that get you down! Sometimes, when things don’t go as planned, a simple mop and bucket won’t do! No, no! Sometimes, people, you just gotta LICK IT UP!”

I’m not sure if I’ll ever be allowed back in the Safeway again. But at least I gave the crowd a much needed dose of Paul Stanley.

On the way home, I’m still feeling the adrenaline from the aisle five incident. Right on cue, I’m confronted with an aggressive driver. As we decelerate at the next red light, I roll down the window and yell, “So, let me get this right! You’re feeling like you own the road and nobody else matters to ya?! Well, let me tell you something! I’m gonna kick your ass all the way to DETROIT ROCK CITY”.

Later on, a door-to-door salesman makes the mistake of showing up at my house. I eagerly make my way to the door and greet him with, “Hey there, Mr’ Salesman! How ya doin’?!!

The salesman stands there with a bewildered look in his eyes and says nothing. He immediately realizes that he picked the wrong house to visit.

After letting him squirm for a minute, I follow up with, “I can’t hear you! I said, How ya doin’ tonight?!”

His bewilderment quickly transitions into fright. I then see my neighbor coming out of his house. So, I improvise with a crowd participation move.

“Now, let’s move over to the right side of the yard! Just to let you know, this salesguy ain’t showin’ me much. So, I’m gonna give the other side a chance. On the count of three, I’m gonna ask my neighbor Jack how he’s doin’! So listen up salesguy, and learn how it’s done! One…..Two….Three……”How you doin’, Jack!?!

Jack immediately throws his left hand up and says, “I’m good, Ken. How you doin’?!”

I respond with an enthusiastic, “Alright!”

And then turn my attention back to the salesguy. By this time, I can tell that he’s really feeling uncomfortable.

“So, let me ask you somethin’ now, Mr. Salesman! You saw what my neighbor Jack can do! You gonna let him show you up? I’m gonna give you one more chance! And this time, let’s not f*ck around! I said HOW YA DOIN’!?!”

He finally responds, “You’re not right. You need some serious help!”. And then he turns and walks away.

I step out onto my front step and deliver one final parting shot.

“Don’t get discouraged, Mr. Salesguy! When one door closes, another one opens! As you make your way down the street, you gotta ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT AND PARTY EVERY DAY!!! Whooo!!!”

This causes him break into a run. He clearly wants no part of Paul Stanley today. I don’t think he’ll be trying to sell me any windows or gutters any time soon.

With all of this being said, Kiss has had a tremendous run of over 50 years. They wrap up their illustrious career at Madison Square Garden this weekend. It’s crazy that these guys can still perform after all of this time. Yeah, I know they can’t play and sing like they did in their prime. But c’mon! It’s Kiss! How can you not love them? They definitely know how to put on a show. And of course, Paul Stanley really knows how to connect with an audience.

kw

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saying Goodbye to a Pet

Our pets are a huge part of our lives. Much like the "comfort and joy" that you might experience from a familiar Christmas song, pets enrich our lives all year long. Unfortunately, there comes a time when will inevitably say, "Goodbye"....

When the decision comes to taking your pet to the veterinarian for the last time, it's never easy.  So many conflicting things go through your mind. Is it really time? Can we do something to prolong/improve his quality of life? Are we doing this more for us or the pet?......The hardest part is that once you made the final decision to euthanize your pet, there's no turning back. 

As callous as it might sound, if our pets just passed away in their sleep, it would make things much easier. I'm certainly not saying that it still won't hurt. But at least it takes away the mental torture of knowing whether or not that you made the right call at the right time.

While I'm in no way comparing the loss of a pet to a loss of a person, it still stings. Anyone who has ever had a connection with a beloved pet knows exactly what I'm talking about. 

A lot of people can't relate because they haven't had the direct interaction with the pet. For the most part, pet owners have an isolated connection with their animals. If your friend's pet passes away, you will sympathize with them because of the hurt that he/she feels. But you don't really feel the loss because you yourself haven't had that same interaction. I have heard some people say, "What's the big deal? It's just an animal?" While that mentality would definitely make the loss a lot less painful, it's not a realistic approach for most pet owners. We view our pets as part of the family.

Yesterday, Tina and I put our cat (Lester) down. We brought he and his brother (Lewis) into our home as kittens about 15 years ago. Although we wrestled with the decision, we knew that Lester's time had come. We thought about waiting another week or two to see if things improved. But we knew that we were just prolonging the inevitable. We went forward with it and we're both feeling the loss this weekend. And as a reassurance of Lester's absence, Lewis has been calling for his brother all morning.

Watching your pet pass away as the vet injects him with a sedative overdose is hard. And then seeing the vet put the stethoscope on his chest a few minutes later and confirming that he's gone is even harder.  But it pales in comparison to coming home and not seeing your pet greet you when you walk in the door. Scattered toys, blankets and food bowls will inevitably trigger memories in the following days. And they will all be good memories.....

kw

Labor Day 2023

Labor Day always evokes several emotions for me. On one hand, I'm happy for the long weekend. On the other hand, it signals the unofficial end of summer. Yeah, I know the summers on the east coast can be uncomfortable at times. But there's just something about summer that naturally makes me happy. Maybe it's the abundance of outdoor activity or maybe it's just the sun itself. Either way, I always get a little sad when the season is over. 

When I was a kid, Labor Day also signaled the beginning of the school year. For most kids, the Tuesday after Labor Day was the day everyone made their way to their new classroom. My elementary school did not have air conditioning, so the days of early September could be quite brutal. If you were really lucky, your teacher might bring an oscillating fan into the classroom. It basically just circulated the hot, damp air around the room. But it gave the illusion of a polar vortex. 

Modern day kids are now starting school before Labor Day. Even though I no longer have any skin in the game. I still don't like it. Let the kids have the extra week of summer!

Labor Day was made an official federal holiday in 1894 when it was signed into law by President Grover Cleveland. Initially, the holiday only applied to federal workers. But through subsequent years, all 50 states eventually followed suit and made the first Monday of September an official holiday for all. In case anyone is keeping score, Oregon was the first US state to officially declare Labor Day a holiday.

Of course, in our 24/7 world, not everyone can take the day off. Try to keep that in mind if you're out and about today. Consider throwing an extra bit of "nice-ness" to those folks who are keeping the wheels turning on this holiday weekend. If you happen to be at a bar/restaurant, add a few extra bucks to your tip. If you're at the check-out line at a grocery store, show the cashier some appreciation. If you see a first responder, thank them for what they do today and every day.

There is undoubtedly plenty of blood, sweat and tears that go into making this country so great. Today, we celebrate the hard-working people all over America. It doesn't really matter what particular duty they might perform. Everyone has a role to play.

At the very least, I hope everyone gets a chance to relax a bit today. Fire up the grill, crack a beer, laugh with some friends, etc. Today is your day. Enjoy it!

kw

Jimmy Buffett - Sailing Off into the Sunset

Although I was never a "Parrot Head", I always loved the vibe of Jimmy Buffet's music. There was a special kind of connection that his songs had with the listener. Who could pass up an opportunity to be transported to a tropical island surrounded by good times and boat drinks? Even if it was virtual? Triggering emotions, especially pleasurable ones, is what the best songwriters do. And Jimmy Buffett certainly did that. His songs were a mix of fun and positivity.

We've all heard the term "a picture is worth a thousand words". I also think that a simple sentence can deliver the same result. Buffett made a habit of doing this through his songs. A few examples:

• "Go fast enough to get there, but slow enough to see"
• "Wrinkles will only go where the smiles have been"
• "If the phone doesn't ring, it's me"
• "I'd rather die while I'm living than live when I'm dead"
• "If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane"
• "If life gives you limes, make margaritas"

I was first introduced to Buffett as a young kid when "Margaritaville" was getting a lot of airplay on the local radio stations. I didn't quite get the song as a youngster. I didn't even know what a Margarita was. But nonetheless, I thought it was a catchy tune. Through the years, "Margaritaville" became a crowd favorite at sporting events, karaoke bars and pretty much anywhere. (In the same fashion as the "Bah-Bah-Bah" addition in Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline", I always hated the "Salt-Salt-Salt" line that was added to the chorus of "Margaritaville" by the bar crowds.)

Self-described as "drunken Caribbean rock and roll" and "Gulf and Western", Buffett's music was synonymous with a good time. He produced the same euphoric effect as Bob Marley. Is it just a coincidence that Buffett named his back-up band the Coral Reefers? And more recently, Kenny Chesney took a page out of Buffett's book and launched his own successful beach-themed career. And Buffett's collaboration with Alan Jackson on "It's Five O'clock Somewhere" gave an added dose of inspiration to day-drinkers everywhere.

There was a "Cheeseburger In Paradise" bar/restaurant in my hometown of Pasadena, MD. Tina and I used to love going there for dinner and drinks. With Jimmy Buffett tunes playing over the sound system, it was always a festive time. No doubt, I drank my share of Landshark lager there. Unfortunately, it closed a few years ago and it has since been transformed into "Oscar's Alehouse". Although we still occasionally go there and do enjoy it, it's not quite the same.

Sadly, Jimmy Buffet sailed off for the final time a few days ago at the age of 76. While his faithful Parrot Heads will never get to see him play live again, his music will forever be part of their lives. Similar to a Timex watch, Buffett's music will no doubt keep on ticking for generations to come.

kw

Fireworks on the 4th of July

Growing up, the Fourth of July was always an anticipated celebration. As a kid, I didn’t quite understand all the details of America’s fight for independence. But I knew that America was the place to be, and it was certainly worthy of its own celebration day.

One of the natural benefits of July 4^th was that it happened to occur in the summer. And that meant that there was no school leading up to the holiday. This gave the neighborhood kids ample time to collect their fireworks. Any fireworks transactions were kept on the down-low because they were frowned upon by the local law enforcement. I can understand why as they were dangerous and illegal.

And before we go any further, I don’t want to incriminate myself. I’m telling this story in the first person narrative to make it an easier read 😉.  In true “Dragnet” fashion, the names have been changed to protect the innocent (and the guilty).

The fireworks were usually smuggled into our neighborhood from a neighboring state. We would sometimes get word that “the mule” would be making a run to Pennsylvania to make a purchase. Everyone would fill out their personal laundry list for bottle rockets, firecrackers, Roman candles and M-80’s.

Word would come down a few days later that “Bob” had the fireworks. You would have to know someone “on the inside” who would take you to “Bob’s” house for the purchase. It felt kind of wrong. But having fireworks, even a small collection, gave you some street cred in the neighborhood. So, you would make the journey to Bob’s house by snaking along through back alleys and vacant fields. And when you finally got to the house, there was usually a tunnel between two adjacent rowhomes that would lead you to the back entrance.

Once you reached the back door, the "escort" would announce your presence to Bob. You were then invited into a small kitchen where an assortment of fireworks would be neatly organized on a fold-up table. Although we were indoors, Bob wore a pair of sunglasses. It gave him a bit of a mystique. And no matter who “Bob” happened to be, like Roy Orbison, he always wore sunglasses.

As you approached the table, Bob would look down over his sunglasses and say something like, “You’re not a cop, are you?”

I have always struggled with the urge to blurt out a sarcastic reply. I so wanted to say to Bob, “Well, if we’re being totally honest here, I applied at the Academy. But they told me to come back in six years when I turned 18.”

Of course, I didn’t say this out loud for the fear of getting my ass kicked by Bob. It would also severely jeopardize my chances of leaving with some fireworks. So, I simply said, “No, sir.”

He then made a Don Corleone hand motion as if to say, “Pick out what you want.”

Having a limited budget, I would usually grab about ten packs of firecrackers, a few bottle rockets and three or four M-80’s.

On the way out, Bob would say, “Don’t tell anyone you were here.”

It was kind of a moot point as the whole neighborhood already knew who Bob was and what kind of business he was conducting.

As the morning of the fourth arrived, you could already hear the crack and bang of fireworks through the neighborhood. Occasionally, you would hear the deep concussion of a distant M-80. These things were brutal. You wanted to be extremely careful because they had the power to instantly turn your hand into a lobster claw. Looking back, we were very lucky that no one got seriously injured. Someone once told me that the M-80’s were used to blow fish out of the water. Once the fish was in the air, fishermen would catch them with nets. I personally have never seen any evidence to support this claim. It seems to me that the explosion would turn the fish into sushi.

As the evening rolled in, most of the community would gather at Garrett Park. We would light the remainder of our fireworks in the large open field. As darkness approached, everyone slowly migrated to the edge of the large hill where you could see Baltimore’s Inner Harbor in the distance. It was the perfect spot to witness the “official” fireworks show.

As the colorful fireworks lit up the Baltimore sky, you could almost envision Francis Scott Key penning the lyrics to “The Star Spangled Banner” at nearby Fort McHenry. Celebrating the 4^th in Baltimore back the day was something special.

As the Grand Finale concluded, the neighborhood residents would gather up their belongings and make their way towards home. Everyone got along and it was an overall festive day. And aside from the commotion of the fireworks, things were relatively peaceful. There was a real sense of community back then.

Today, the Independence Day celebrations are pretty much confined to the back yards. And the personal fireworks collections are obtained through a “open-air distributor” on a Food Lion parking lot. Maybe not quite as adventurous as it used to be. But nonetheless, a summer tradition.

Be sure to enjoy yourself today. And take a moment to reflect on the countless sacrifices and acts of bravery that went into making our great country. And please remember our troops who continue to fight to preserve our freedoms. Happy birthday, America!

kw