Two Choices? Or Three?

Many years ago I ran a 5K race with my then 11 year old son. At least I thought I was running it with my son. It was a large, local event. We knew lots of people there, including, I'm sure, many of you, my readers. We had thought it was a parent/child type event, but it turned out that there were only like 3 adults in the race. I ran anyway, wanting the shirt. Once the gun went off, my son took off like a sprinter, leaving me behind amongst a mass of children. Languishing behind, and seeing my son disappear farther and farther into the horizon, I knew I had two choices: One, I could try to catch my son, and possibly vomit. (I saw one of my friends' dad vomit when I was in college and that still has an effect on me.) I really didn't want to be known as "the dad who vomited in front of us trying to beat the 10 year olds". Secondly, I could drop out of the race. Well, as you, my readers, know, I'm no quitter. So I continued to run, falling further and further back of my son. The sun began to set. It was then that I thought of the third option. Why not pretend one of these slower kids was mine? So I proudly ran the last two miles amongst a pack of children that I've not seen since.

I haven't run any more races with my son, but I still have that shirt. 

The Paper

I hate having to call the newspaper when I don't receive a paper.  The person in distribution always asks the same question. "Did your neighbors get the paper?" I hate that question. My answer is typically something like "I tried to peek in their windows to check but their curtains were pulled."  Or, "If I ask them if they got a paper, then they're gonna think that I think that they have my paper." Or, "I looked in their bathroom windows and they were reading the paper, but I think it might have been yesterday's." Or, and this may be the best response, "Why don't you call my neighbors and see if they have the paper?" I never think to have that conversation with my neighbor that probably should go something like this. "Hey Steve, do you get the paper? 'Cause I might have to call you sometime to see if you got it when I don't get mine. Can you be that guy for me?" I suppose the newspaper should encourage us to have that conversation.

I'm not sure why I even get the paper. Our paper has gotten so skinny that I'm afraid that some day the obituaries are going to be in the Living Section.

The Mamas and the Papas

My friend's son's playing in a band at a local club. No idea what their sound is. Bunch of 20 year-olds home for the summer. My friend needs some guidance. If your kid plays at a club do you go and watch? If so, up to what age? Is there a Rock parent etiquette guide out there? Did Mr Davies ever go to see his boys in the Kinks? I know Mr Wilson managed the Beach Boys. But he was overbearing. My friend's not looking to manage the band. Mrs Partridge drove the bus, but those kids were a little younger. But what the H? Keith shoulda been driving that bus. Mrs Partridge coulda managed the band. They didn’t need that Mr Kincaid.  Yet Mrs Partridge drove the bus and Danny still became a drug addict. You can’t say she didn’t give it her best.

What if Mrs Partridge woulda driven that bus in Speed instead of that Sandra Bullock? Speed, the musical. Take it to Broadway. Maybe work Ralph Cramden and Norton into one of the songs.

Ban the Bombpop

I heard an ice cream truck recently playing patriotic music. Ít was Mother's day, I think. Having been used to hearing "Turkey in the Straw" this new tune caught my ear. Because of the music selection, I, of course, thought he might be having a special on those red, white and blue Bomb Pops. So, yeah. I enjoy an occasional Bomb Pop. You get a nice chunk of ice for your money. I like the fact that you eat it in red, white and blue order although by the time you get to the blue it's melting and it may stain your trunks. But I thought a name like "Bomb Pop" would have gone out with a name like the NBA's Baltimore Bullets. The bad news is that Baltimore still had the riots even after changing the name. The good news is that the now Wizards were still alive in the NBA playoffs on Mother's Day.

When I retire I'm gonna get an ice cream truck that plays hymns. And I'll have a lady playing the organ in the back. And maybe a monkey. People dig monkeys.

Ballad of $13

Someone mentioned to me today that I need to see the new aquarium at our local zoo. I'm fine with that. I'm not OK with the cost of attending the holiday light display. For my $13 entry fee I want to see more than just lights in trees. I want to see lights on the actual animals. I don't think that's asking too much. Would it kill them to put a string of lights on the giraffe? Maybe have a monkey switch them on and off. Can they plug in the peacock somehow? That would be beautiful. Seeing as how this is an evening event, they could do wonders with these animals. For $13 I would also like to see the animals dance. I don't think that's asking too much. Worst case scenario the animals revolt. At least then you have a great summer movie idea. This is the 21st century. America is demanding more than looking at animals sleeping in cages.

How would they incent the animals for the "extra performance"? Simple. First of all, the animals are looking for something to do anyway. They'll likely be glad to do it. They're bored. As extra enticement, let them ride on the rides when the zoo is closed.

Hello. Welcome to my new blog. This is the place I'll be discussing some select thoughts from time to time. Stay tuned.