While at work today, I tuned in to internet radio. Specifically, hard rock heavy metal internet radio. Songs that evoked a whole flood of sweet memories involving summertime swimming pool romances, all night skates when our wheels didn’t roll much, and watching sunsets from the trunks and hoods of cars, smokin’ cigs and drinking pop from ice cold glass bottles.
There was a movie that came out in the late 70s or early 80s called Over The Edge. It was about a group of rebellious suburbanite teenagers that spent a lot of time hanging out at the much despised rec center, vandalizing property, smoking dope, and generally doing all the things I described in the above paragraph.
I hate to admit it, but Lord Have Mercy, that was a fun time to be a teenager. I know that every generation seems to think their’s was the greatest. But for me, there is such a pull to return to those days. You’ve probably guessed correctly I’m living my midlife crisis.
Want to hear how I came of age? I was a geeky, sheltered fat kid and I didn’t really fit in with any peer group until I hit middle school. I was about 13 or so and found some people that didn’t care if I was a geeky sheltered fat kid. Sure, by most adults standards, they were very dangerous….chain wallets, denim jackets, some with pot leaf and Led Zeppelin patches on them, and of course, the dreaded LONG HAIR! Oh, and every one of these people had a pack of Marlboros stuck in their jacket or jeans back pocket. But God I loved them.
They accepted me into their fold and we became like family. Some went off to juvenile hall and some died. But we were brothers, sisters, lovers, and friends till the end. We threw our fist in the air, snuck out between classes to smoke a cig, and then gathered on the weekends to celebrate our youth with Boones Farm and rock ‘n roll.
Our anthems blasted out of car stereos and boom boxes while I got kisses from girls with root beer flavored lip-gloss. I had my first girlfriend at 13, a beautiful half-Cherokee girl who I’ve been mystically linked to my entire life. Girls don’t look the same today. Back then it was feathered hair, a pair of Levis and the latest concert shirt, sometimes covered with their boyfriends torn up flannel. Always a mixture of Loves Baby Soft and smoke next to their skin. It would drive you wild.
The car or motorcycle definitely made the man. As long as it was loud. And of course, whoever had beer made it even better. Most of the guys I ran around with all had older brothers to teach them the ropes. Not me, I had to learn how to be cool. But I had good teachers. You don’t run your mouth too much, you stand up for your buddies no matter what, and you didn’t go after the woman your buddy was seeing at any given time. Those were the rules. Everything else was negotiable.
The parties were legendary. A tapped keg in somebody’s basement or out in a field far away from civilization. Always with fire, a big bonfire.
Now look at us...houses with a mortgage, kids to put through college, 25 year class reunions, and job where I can listen to hard rock heavy metal internet radio and be a teenager again.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
The Final Frontier
Recently, we celebrated the 40th anniversary of the first manned landing on the moon. It was with great vision that we embarked on this mission to send humans into space. We’ve learned so much from the technology that was developed to get us there. Countless scientific experiments have been conducted. We’ve peered through the looking glass at worlds that are right now beyond our reach.
The United States government, in the midst of a severe economic crisis, is faced with a decision on what goals our space exploration program should try for. Should we bankroll NASA to make preparations to go back to the moon, so we can set up a permanent base? The first stepping stones, along with the International Space Station, to get us ready for a manned trip to Mars? Or should we forget about a moon base and concentrate on deep space exploration with our first stop being the Red Planet?
Scientists say it would take six months for a crew to reach Mars. That’s not impossible, but putting more than one personality together in a small, confined space for six months would create problems. So, we need to work on our fuel to get us there faster. Everyone agrees that whatever we decide to use, materials to manufacture it would have to be found at our destination or along the way. Can you imagine what would happen if a crew would run out of fuel due to an accident or malfunction and then not be able to return to Earth?
From my earliest imaginations, I dreamt of space. I was a child of the original Star Trek and later Star Wars generations. I imagined that I would someday be in space, visiting far away planets and meeting new species. Sadly, we have not progressed that far in our technology that allows us to travel faster than the speed of light. It’s a pretty good bet we won’t find any life or humanoids within our solar system. So we need a new vision….the same as the first space explorers had when we landed on the moon.
I would hate to think that my children would pass from this life and not see humans landing on Mars. And it would be worse if my grandchildren could not dream about making contact outside our solar system.
We need a vision. We need another dream. Something bigger than ourselves. We don’t dare to set goals anymore that push us to do the impossible. Instead, in the interest of being politically correct and not hurting anybody’s feelings, we have dumbed down our society and made excuses for a culture that is so self-absorbed, it can’t think beyond it’s own agenda.
Space, the final frontier. Maybe it will take a global initiative, maybe it’ll just be us cowboy Americans. After all, forty years ago, we were the first……
The United States government, in the midst of a severe economic crisis, is faced with a decision on what goals our space exploration program should try for. Should we bankroll NASA to make preparations to go back to the moon, so we can set up a permanent base? The first stepping stones, along with the International Space Station, to get us ready for a manned trip to Mars? Or should we forget about a moon base and concentrate on deep space exploration with our first stop being the Red Planet?
Scientists say it would take six months for a crew to reach Mars. That’s not impossible, but putting more than one personality together in a small, confined space for six months would create problems. So, we need to work on our fuel to get us there faster. Everyone agrees that whatever we decide to use, materials to manufacture it would have to be found at our destination or along the way. Can you imagine what would happen if a crew would run out of fuel due to an accident or malfunction and then not be able to return to Earth?
From my earliest imaginations, I dreamt of space. I was a child of the original Star Trek and later Star Wars generations. I imagined that I would someday be in space, visiting far away planets and meeting new species. Sadly, we have not progressed that far in our technology that allows us to travel faster than the speed of light. It’s a pretty good bet we won’t find any life or humanoids within our solar system. So we need a new vision….the same as the first space explorers had when we landed on the moon.
I would hate to think that my children would pass from this life and not see humans landing on Mars. And it would be worse if my grandchildren could not dream about making contact outside our solar system.
We need a vision. We need another dream. Something bigger than ourselves. We don’t dare to set goals anymore that push us to do the impossible. Instead, in the interest of being politically correct and not hurting anybody’s feelings, we have dumbed down our society and made excuses for a culture that is so self-absorbed, it can’t think beyond it’s own agenda.
Space, the final frontier. Maybe it will take a global initiative, maybe it’ll just be us cowboy Americans. After all, forty years ago, we were the first……
Monday, August 3, 2009
The Best Part of Waking Up....
I don’t really know when I became such a big fan of coffee. But it’s been a part of my daily routine since at least my teenage years.
In lieu of drinking alcohol and having unprotected sex, I opted to spend my rebellious years hanging out at the local Perkins restaurant, having cup after cup of their bottomless pot of coffee and partaking in the verbal exchanges between customers and waitresses.
It wasn’t that the coffee was exceptional. It was just McGarveys, I was told. But if brewed and mixed correctly, it was a rich bouquet that filled the nostrils and awakened the senses. It was really the conversation that I yearned for. Our little exchanges also opened the door for what I hoped could be secret late night liaisons. Something that would begin, "so…what are you doing when you get off?" "I don’t know, I’m wide awake." "Do you want to come over and watch a movie" I think you know where this is going…..
There’s been so many ladies' names that have poured coffee for me…and I’ve loved every one of them. I thought I was going to marry a waitress. It was either going to be a waitress or a stripper. I guess I felt sorry for the girls working in both professions since I knew that they worked really hard and had to take a lot of crap from stupid people.
I really hit my stride after I got married. I found brands like Eight O’Clock and Starbucks. My mother use to talk about Eight O’Clock. She used to buy it and it had been around forever. And you just couldn’t go wrong with Starbucks….it was very hard to get a bad cup of Starbucks.
I avoid bad coffee like the plague. While friends of mine would stop anywhere for a cup, not me. The places I stopped had to set a certain standard in the coffee they used, how they brewed it, what kind of water they used, when they threw out the old stuff and brewed a new pot. If I walked into a place and the coffee tasted like someone had thrown their old dirty sweaty socks in to the urn, I’d switch to pop. Yuck. While some gas station coffee was good, others were like drinking the gasoline they pumped.
I’m just a coffee snob. I don’t know what made me into a snob. I just know that coffee serves not only as a beverage and a stimulant, but it draws people together, a warm, inviting brew that people can talk over and get to know each other. It provides the open invitation of, "Stop by anytime, the coffee is always on!"
That’s the way it was at our house when I was growing up. Mom and Dad’s coffee pot was always on. And I mean always. No matter what time of the day or night you’d drop by our house, there’d be coffee. It might be very old and very burnt, but it was still coffee. But at least you knew….you were welcome.
In lieu of drinking alcohol and having unprotected sex, I opted to spend my rebellious years hanging out at the local Perkins restaurant, having cup after cup of their bottomless pot of coffee and partaking in the verbal exchanges between customers and waitresses.
It wasn’t that the coffee was exceptional. It was just McGarveys, I was told. But if brewed and mixed correctly, it was a rich bouquet that filled the nostrils and awakened the senses. It was really the conversation that I yearned for. Our little exchanges also opened the door for what I hoped could be secret late night liaisons. Something that would begin, "so…what are you doing when you get off?" "I don’t know, I’m wide awake." "Do you want to come over and watch a movie" I think you know where this is going…..
There’s been so many ladies' names that have poured coffee for me…and I’ve loved every one of them. I thought I was going to marry a waitress. It was either going to be a waitress or a stripper. I guess I felt sorry for the girls working in both professions since I knew that they worked really hard and had to take a lot of crap from stupid people.
I really hit my stride after I got married. I found brands like Eight O’Clock and Starbucks. My mother use to talk about Eight O’Clock. She used to buy it and it had been around forever. And you just couldn’t go wrong with Starbucks….it was very hard to get a bad cup of Starbucks.
I avoid bad coffee like the plague. While friends of mine would stop anywhere for a cup, not me. The places I stopped had to set a certain standard in the coffee they used, how they brewed it, what kind of water they used, when they threw out the old stuff and brewed a new pot. If I walked into a place and the coffee tasted like someone had thrown their old dirty sweaty socks in to the urn, I’d switch to pop. Yuck. While some gas station coffee was good, others were like drinking the gasoline they pumped.
I’m just a coffee snob. I don’t know what made me into a snob. I just know that coffee serves not only as a beverage and a stimulant, but it draws people together, a warm, inviting brew that people can talk over and get to know each other. It provides the open invitation of, "Stop by anytime, the coffee is always on!"
That’s the way it was at our house when I was growing up. Mom and Dad’s coffee pot was always on. And I mean always. No matter what time of the day or night you’d drop by our house, there’d be coffee. It might be very old and very burnt, but it was still coffee. But at least you knew….you were welcome.
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