One of the tougher things that come along with age is sickness. The body starts to break down at a certain point and it gets harder and harder to keep things feeling right. Being completely out of shape obviously doesn’t help the situation but even those who take care of themselves find it a little harder to move than they did when they were young.
I go to the doctors now and the exams that get done are so much more invasive than they used to be. Not that that’s a bad thing. I kind of look forward to certain aspects of it. (Just kidding mom). The number of things they check for now are things that, when I was young, I never dreamed even existed. Of course the things that can go wrong are also greater than while young.
Actually, before I go on, I should put in a little warning. Parts of this might be found to be offensive to some. I may get a little more graphic than you may be used to. If that’s going to bother you then I suggest you get out now while the getting’s good.
I don’t know how to start this next part so I’ll just say it. The Prostate exam is nothing like you ever think it will be. Each one has it’s own special charms. From the moment I turned 40 it’s like a bell goes off in every Dr’s. Office I visit. The gloves come out and I’m told to turn around and put my hands on the table. Now, I’ve never been searched by the police, but I think I’d almost prefer that.
I remember the first time it was done. At the end of the exam, with a Dr. I’d known and been friendly with for 10 years or so, he asked how old I was. When I said I had just turned 40 he smirked and reached into the drawer for a new pair of gloves. He said,” Kevin, you’ve now reached the age where I get to legally violate you and, best of all, you’re gonna pay me for it.” He also told me it was going to bother me a hell of a lot more than him.
He wasn’t kidding. I would think it goes without saying that this is not something one would normally enjoy. Well, normally. So this became an uncomfortable, yet common, occurrence for me whenever I’d visit a Dr. for a normal checkup. I would actually try to avoid going just to not have to deal with it. I mean, think about it. It’s really odd, especially if you don’t have a regular Dr. that you know and have a relationship with. Not that kind of relationship! Get your mind out of the gutter.
There was a time, around 10 years ago or so, that I had an actual scare. I found that when I went to the bathroom there was, as the medical profession would say, blood in my stool. It was pretty scary. I went to urgent care and the Dr. happened to be someone I had never seen before. He was much older than I was used to and of course he had me strip down as he put on his magic gloves. He had me turn around and started doing his thing.
Now, maybe it’s just me, but when someone has something poking him or her in places they’re not used to, it would seem that a normal reaction would be to “tighten” up as it were. Well, that’s what I did. My good Dr. seemed to have a problem with that. He asked, and I will never forget this, he asked if there was something wrong? He said I seemed really uncomfortable. Here was some old man, elbow deep in my ass, and he couldn’t figure out why I was “really uncomfortable”? Give me a break. It turned out that I was fine but it was an experience that, to say the least, was not one of my finer moments.
So now I have some serious questions about how I’m supposed to prepare myself when I go get an exam. I mean this man or woman, whomever it may be, is touching me in places that very few have gone before. I know, you’re all quite thankful for that, and you should be. But should I dress any nicer than I normally would, or might that make both the Dr. and myself a little uncomfortable? Should I wear nice cologne or maybe some fancy underwear? What if I dress down? Might the Dr. take that as a sign of disrespect and make the process much more painful than necessary? Wouldn’t that be a poke in the ass?
Sorry; I couldn’t help myself on that one.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Scrambled Eggs
I took my bike out the other day. It’s only the second time I’ve used it since I’ve moved here and the first time I left the development. I went out towards the campus and once I got away from the major roads it was a real nice ride. One of the things I like when I ride off the main streets is that I can really get lost in my head. By that, I mean I can just start thinking about anything. Today’s thoughts were all over the board.
For some reason I started thinking about Rodney King. I lived in southern California when the police beat him up and it was shown all over the world. I kept getting that picture in my head of when he made the infamous statement that we all laughed about, “Can’t we all just get along?” I remember that I, along with millions of others, laughed when he said it at the time. It was great fodder for late night television shows and you can still hear it said in any bar or social gathering on a regular basis.
Then, of course, I started thinking about that question. I mean, there’s the obvious, I don’t like you and you don’t like me but does that mean we have to do some sort of violent dance until one of us either agrees that one is better or possibly gets hurt? Easy answer, of course not. Maturity usually brings us to the point of either resolving our differences or simply agreeing to disagree.
I think most right thinking folks would agree that the question is one that should never have to be asked. That being the case, why is it we have such a hard time getting along with each other? I’m not talking about other countries, just right here at home.
We’re in the middle of an historic Presidential Race where, odds are; we will have either a black or a woman President. I swell with so much pride just thinking about it. Then I see some of the exit interviews from the West Virginia primary and I’m embarrassed to be of the same species as some of these folks. There were three in particular that I think need mentioning. The first was a woman who looked like she was just coming out of the mall, nicely dressed and by the looks of her, a relatively intelligent person. After saying she had voted for Hillary Clinton she was asked why? She stated, “It’s the racial thing, we’ve had problems in the past.” Her only stated reason for voting for Clinton over Obama was that Obama is black. Well, I guess she at least gets points for honesty.
It gets better. The second woman, asked about her vote, said she also voted for Hillary. When asked why she said. “Because he’s a Muslim and I could never vote for a Muslim.” Has this woman read a newspaper or seen any news program in the last two years? It has been stated numerous times on many stations and in scads of newspapers that Barak Obama is not a Muslim. If he were, the whole Reverend Wright controversy would never have happened. Apart from the falsehood of the statement, religious beliefs should be irrelevant when it comes to elections in this country.
The third person interviewed was another woman who, when asked why she didn’t vote for Obama stated, “I won’t vote for Hussein, we’ve had enough of Hussein.” And that was the end of her statement. Kind of makes you want to propose an intelligence test to be able to vote. John Stewart of “The Daily Show” showed all three interviews and ended the segment with a sign that said, “Welcome to West Virginia. Please, No Interviews.” How embarrassing.
I don’t mean to pick on West Virginia here, I’m sure there are people all over the country that have these same types of thoughts. It just goes to show how far we, as a nation, have to go until we can “all just get along.” I’m willing to bet that, in most cases, the very same people who won’t vote for a black or a woman will tell you that they are very progressive people that hold no race or gender bias. This ingrained racism is something that’s been with them for as long as they could possibly remember. It’s easy to let your fears control you once the curtain closes and it’s just you with your head in that voting booth.
Let’s be honest though. It’s not simply fear that causes these thoughts to go through ones mind. Sad as it is to say, there are a great many who still feel that men are smarter or better than women and Whites are smarter or better than Blacks, Hispanics or any other group that’s different. Does anyone really wonder why we “can’t all just get along?”
Please don’t think that I pretend to be above the fray. I too have my own prejudices. I’m not proud of them and I’m not even sure I can admit to all of them but I know they’re there. Of course I’d like to believe that I don’t let them influence my daily life but I’m sure they do. I do like to think that I know how ridiculous they are and that I constantly work on myself to not let them define who or what I am. I certainly would never go on television and use them as my reason for choosing the next leader of this country.
Anyway, that’s the kind of stuff I was thinking about when I took my little bike ride. I should really try to work on paying a little more attention to the road but that’s not nearly as entertaining.
For some reason I started thinking about Rodney King. I lived in southern California when the police beat him up and it was shown all over the world. I kept getting that picture in my head of when he made the infamous statement that we all laughed about, “Can’t we all just get along?” I remember that I, along with millions of others, laughed when he said it at the time. It was great fodder for late night television shows and you can still hear it said in any bar or social gathering on a regular basis.
Then, of course, I started thinking about that question. I mean, there’s the obvious, I don’t like you and you don’t like me but does that mean we have to do some sort of violent dance until one of us either agrees that one is better or possibly gets hurt? Easy answer, of course not. Maturity usually brings us to the point of either resolving our differences or simply agreeing to disagree.
I think most right thinking folks would agree that the question is one that should never have to be asked. That being the case, why is it we have such a hard time getting along with each other? I’m not talking about other countries, just right here at home.
We’re in the middle of an historic Presidential Race where, odds are; we will have either a black or a woman President. I swell with so much pride just thinking about it. Then I see some of the exit interviews from the West Virginia primary and I’m embarrassed to be of the same species as some of these folks. There were three in particular that I think need mentioning. The first was a woman who looked like she was just coming out of the mall, nicely dressed and by the looks of her, a relatively intelligent person. After saying she had voted for Hillary Clinton she was asked why? She stated, “It’s the racial thing, we’ve had problems in the past.” Her only stated reason for voting for Clinton over Obama was that Obama is black. Well, I guess she at least gets points for honesty.
It gets better. The second woman, asked about her vote, said she also voted for Hillary. When asked why she said. “Because he’s a Muslim and I could never vote for a Muslim.” Has this woman read a newspaper or seen any news program in the last two years? It has been stated numerous times on many stations and in scads of newspapers that Barak Obama is not a Muslim. If he were, the whole Reverend Wright controversy would never have happened. Apart from the falsehood of the statement, religious beliefs should be irrelevant when it comes to elections in this country.
The third person interviewed was another woman who, when asked why she didn’t vote for Obama stated, “I won’t vote for Hussein, we’ve had enough of Hussein.” And that was the end of her statement. Kind of makes you want to propose an intelligence test to be able to vote. John Stewart of “The Daily Show” showed all three interviews and ended the segment with a sign that said, “Welcome to West Virginia. Please, No Interviews.” How embarrassing.
I don’t mean to pick on West Virginia here, I’m sure there are people all over the country that have these same types of thoughts. It just goes to show how far we, as a nation, have to go until we can “all just get along.” I’m willing to bet that, in most cases, the very same people who won’t vote for a black or a woman will tell you that they are very progressive people that hold no race or gender bias. This ingrained racism is something that’s been with them for as long as they could possibly remember. It’s easy to let your fears control you once the curtain closes and it’s just you with your head in that voting booth.
Let’s be honest though. It’s not simply fear that causes these thoughts to go through ones mind. Sad as it is to say, there are a great many who still feel that men are smarter or better than women and Whites are smarter or better than Blacks, Hispanics or any other group that’s different. Does anyone really wonder why we “can’t all just get along?”
Please don’t think that I pretend to be above the fray. I too have my own prejudices. I’m not proud of them and I’m not even sure I can admit to all of them but I know they’re there. Of course I’d like to believe that I don’t let them influence my daily life but I’m sure they do. I do like to think that I know how ridiculous they are and that I constantly work on myself to not let them define who or what I am. I certainly would never go on television and use them as my reason for choosing the next leader of this country.
Anyway, that’s the kind of stuff I was thinking about when I took my little bike ride. I should really try to work on paying a little more attention to the road but that’s not nearly as entertaining.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Where Does Evil Begin?
The second essay for my original blog that I wrote was about my running into someone that was convinced that the Holocaust was a fraud. I wrote of my utter amazement at the whole concept. Since that time I have done a good deal of research on the computer about that time in history and I have also seen a number of documentaries about the subject.
I‘ve visited a number of white power sites and just shake my head at the things I read on them. I think most of you remember David Duke. He’s the guy that put a corporate face on the White Supremacist movement. Clean cut, business suit and educated. He actually won a seat in the Louisiana State House of Representatives. Oh, by the way, he was also the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan.
David Duke brings up an interesting point about these hate mongers. At some point in his life, he was just a guy. Someone we’ve all known in our lives. Someone we’ve gone to school with, played games with or had a beer with. He was once a child without a care in the world and somehow, somewhere, there was a disconnect from what I, and many others, feel is a sense of decency.
What made me think of this was a program I saw the other day about a German Officer during WWII by the name of Karl Hoeker. Someone had held on to a personal photo album of his and sent it to one of the Holocaust Centers for display and study. The photos were of him in social and “work” situations. The social ones were of him with friends, on picnics and out having something to eat with fellow officers. Just your basic scenes from what seems like a normal life.
That’s the part that gets to me. At some point, something happened. When the thought of a madman is brought up in this country the first name that comes to the mind of many of my generation is Charles Manson. Though in fact, he was never convicted of killing anyone, he is the epitome of evil to many. Guess what? He was a baby once, just like you and me. Where did it go wrong? Is there any way to find the point that the above folks’ minds went to the “dark side”?
Of the three names mentioned above, the one I find most fascinating is Hoeker, the German officer. Being Jewish, I have an emotional investment to the actions of the Third Reich. Apart from that though, he is the only one of the three that wasn’t at the head of the class per se. He wasn’t in charge. He was, though this is not excusing him in any way, taking orders from above. Does anyone really think that at that time in history he could have survived if he refused any of the orders given? It’s easy to say, sitting here right now, that you or I would have never done any of the things those people were told to do. We weren’t there. We don’t really know what it was like.
We all read in amazement when some hate group destroys a church or synagogue but let’s imagine that the vandalism is state sponsored. Imagine that you are told, day after day, that the cause of all your problems was this group or that group. Actually, I hadn’t thought about it until now but we get a lot of that kind of talk about illegal immigrants right now. Alright, try to put yourself in the steps of an unemployed worker. You’re having a really hard time feeding your children. The electricity is on the verge of being turned off. The stack of bills on the table only gets bigger. You turn on the news and you hear about some report from the government that says the reason for all your troubles were people with the letter P in their first name. You think, that’s crazy. But then you find that every day it’s all over the news, all the politicians are making speeches about it. All your friends are talking about those damn P people.
Reading the above scenario doesn’t do the issue justice. It seems so ludicrous to think that we, or anyone, could fall into this type of brainwashing. But it happened. Nobody can truly believe that all the citizens of Germany were these horrible people we see in all the old films. Something happened. There was a point where the switch was flicked over and lives changed forever. They came to believe that the Jews were the cause of all their problems. At some point though, they were just a bunch of guys.
I‘ve visited a number of white power sites and just shake my head at the things I read on them. I think most of you remember David Duke. He’s the guy that put a corporate face on the White Supremacist movement. Clean cut, business suit and educated. He actually won a seat in the Louisiana State House of Representatives. Oh, by the way, he was also the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan.
David Duke brings up an interesting point about these hate mongers. At some point in his life, he was just a guy. Someone we’ve all known in our lives. Someone we’ve gone to school with, played games with or had a beer with. He was once a child without a care in the world and somehow, somewhere, there was a disconnect from what I, and many others, feel is a sense of decency.
What made me think of this was a program I saw the other day about a German Officer during WWII by the name of Karl Hoeker. Someone had held on to a personal photo album of his and sent it to one of the Holocaust Centers for display and study. The photos were of him in social and “work” situations. The social ones were of him with friends, on picnics and out having something to eat with fellow officers. Just your basic scenes from what seems like a normal life.
That’s the part that gets to me. At some point, something happened. When the thought of a madman is brought up in this country the first name that comes to the mind of many of my generation is Charles Manson. Though in fact, he was never convicted of killing anyone, he is the epitome of evil to many. Guess what? He was a baby once, just like you and me. Where did it go wrong? Is there any way to find the point that the above folks’ minds went to the “dark side”?
Of the three names mentioned above, the one I find most fascinating is Hoeker, the German officer. Being Jewish, I have an emotional investment to the actions of the Third Reich. Apart from that though, he is the only one of the three that wasn’t at the head of the class per se. He wasn’t in charge. He was, though this is not excusing him in any way, taking orders from above. Does anyone really think that at that time in history he could have survived if he refused any of the orders given? It’s easy to say, sitting here right now, that you or I would have never done any of the things those people were told to do. We weren’t there. We don’t really know what it was like.
We all read in amazement when some hate group destroys a church or synagogue but let’s imagine that the vandalism is state sponsored. Imagine that you are told, day after day, that the cause of all your problems was this group or that group. Actually, I hadn’t thought about it until now but we get a lot of that kind of talk about illegal immigrants right now. Alright, try to put yourself in the steps of an unemployed worker. You’re having a really hard time feeding your children. The electricity is on the verge of being turned off. The stack of bills on the table only gets bigger. You turn on the news and you hear about some report from the government that says the reason for all your troubles were people with the letter P in their first name. You think, that’s crazy. But then you find that every day it’s all over the news, all the politicians are making speeches about it. All your friends are talking about those damn P people.
Reading the above scenario doesn’t do the issue justice. It seems so ludicrous to think that we, or anyone, could fall into this type of brainwashing. But it happened. Nobody can truly believe that all the citizens of Germany were these horrible people we see in all the old films. Something happened. There was a point where the switch was flicked over and lives changed forever. They came to believe that the Jews were the cause of all their problems. At some point though, they were just a bunch of guys.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
The Sun Comes Out
Those that live in warm climates really won’t understand what I’m saying here but, it’s 7:45 in the morning, about 60 degrees out and I’m on my balcony listening to the radio, reading a couple newspapers online and the greatest part of all, I’m wearing my flip flops. I guess not understanding is the wrong choice of words. Appreciate, yeah, that fits.
I’m kind of afraid to make this statement, being in Michigan and all, but I think the cold is finally gone. As I say that I half expect a sudden snowstorm to blanket my community. That’s the thing about living here, you never really know. I remember being in Junior High and High School and having snow days in mid April. Hell, I remember last July, when I first arrived here, it was 43 degrees on the first morning I was in the house.
My balcony faces directly east and I get a straight shot from the sun until about 11 every morning when it’s not cloudy. Today is a perfect day for being out here. There is no way I can adequately describe the feelin I get when the sun is on my face. The warmth does me so much good, it’s more than fantastic. I think blissful would be a good way of describing it. I could close my eyes right now and just feel complete content.
Being up here gives me a great view of the community I’m in. The first couple of phases of the development are just out in the distance and there is a row of houses across the street. Behind those houses is a pond that Lucky really wants to go into. She got there once when she got out and she was such a mess after, it was so disgusting. Anyway, the pond looks real nice from up here.
Since the front of the house faces east it goes to reason that the back gets the sun the rest of the day. I like the idea of the deck off the back door. I have my bbq and patio set on it and there is still plenty of room for me to sit out there to get some sun. I get it from about 1:00 in the afternoon until sunset back there. I tie Lucky’s leash to one of the posts and she goes and lies on the lawn while I stretch out in a lawn chair on the deck and catch the rays. I’m not sure how much the neighbors like it, I’m not a handsome man and when I take my shirt off back there I’m sure they have a hard time grilling up there dinner but this is still America and I’m not breaking any laws.
It’s really impressive how much the sun changes people. You see a lot more smiles on faces. Driving around the campus with the trees turning green and the streets full of students walking around is a real pleasant sight to see. It kind of gives you hope. Hope that the snow is gone and we’re in for a few months of warmth and sunshine. Up here spring, summer and the sun that comes with it are like friends you haven’t seen in a while.
Hello old friend, how have you been? I’ve missed you, now; do that voodoo that you do so very, very well.
I’m kind of afraid to make this statement, being in Michigan and all, but I think the cold is finally gone. As I say that I half expect a sudden snowstorm to blanket my community. That’s the thing about living here, you never really know. I remember being in Junior High and High School and having snow days in mid April. Hell, I remember last July, when I first arrived here, it was 43 degrees on the first morning I was in the house.
My balcony faces directly east and I get a straight shot from the sun until about 11 every morning when it’s not cloudy. Today is a perfect day for being out here. There is no way I can adequately describe the feelin I get when the sun is on my face. The warmth does me so much good, it’s more than fantastic. I think blissful would be a good way of describing it. I could close my eyes right now and just feel complete content.
Being up here gives me a great view of the community I’m in. The first couple of phases of the development are just out in the distance and there is a row of houses across the street. Behind those houses is a pond that Lucky really wants to go into. She got there once when she got out and she was such a mess after, it was so disgusting. Anyway, the pond looks real nice from up here.
Since the front of the house faces east it goes to reason that the back gets the sun the rest of the day. I like the idea of the deck off the back door. I have my bbq and patio set on it and there is still plenty of room for me to sit out there to get some sun. I get it from about 1:00 in the afternoon until sunset back there. I tie Lucky’s leash to one of the posts and she goes and lies on the lawn while I stretch out in a lawn chair on the deck and catch the rays. I’m not sure how much the neighbors like it, I’m not a handsome man and when I take my shirt off back there I’m sure they have a hard time grilling up there dinner but this is still America and I’m not breaking any laws.
It’s really impressive how much the sun changes people. You see a lot more smiles on faces. Driving around the campus with the trees turning green and the streets full of students walking around is a real pleasant sight to see. It kind of gives you hope. Hope that the snow is gone and we’re in for a few months of warmth and sunshine. Up here spring, summer and the sun that comes with it are like friends you haven’t seen in a while.
Hello old friend, how have you been? I’ve missed you, now; do that voodoo that you do so very, very well.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
All Or Nothing, Nothing In Between
I really think that old age is getting to me. Physically, it’s been showing for quite a while. Now, however, I’m starting to feel the effects mentally.
I don’t know exactly what you’d call it but my short-term memory is shot. For the last two or three weeks I can’t seem to remember anything that people tell me or show me at all. I mean it. It’s so embarrassing. I can’t seem to remember any plans I make and I constantly have the feeling that I’m missing something. Even when people ask me about future plans I have to hesitate because in the back of my mind I think I have made other commitments.
I take a pill everyday for heartburn. It’s a prescription. I even have one of those pill containers for each day of the week. I usually forget to fill it and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lost track of whether I’ve taken the pill or not. The only way I can tell is when I’m awakened in the middle of the night with major heartburn like tonight. Oh, sure, I’ll take a pill now but it’s 1:30 in the morning and it takes an hour or so for the pill to work.
One suggestion I’ll surely get is to start writing things down. There is no way I could write down all the things I see or talk about every day. Besides, this came on so suddenly it really kind of scares me. I’ve always been one to remember everything. It’s always been a kind of source of pride. My memory has always been there for me to rely on and it’s not something I feel I can afford to lose, even partially.
I know that this could very easily be chalked up to getting older but I just don’t think that type of loss happens so fast. If it does, I hope it goes completely. I think the worst part of this is knowing. I have written in the past about mental illness and how horrible it must be if you know you suffer from it. Well, that’s my fear here. I don’t want to know about it. If I lose my memory at all, I want to lose all of it. I hate the way I’ve been feeling lately when I think I’m forgetting something. I literally feel like I’m going crazy. And this is the first time that’s ever bothered me.
I don’t know exactly what you’d call it but my short-term memory is shot. For the last two or three weeks I can’t seem to remember anything that people tell me or show me at all. I mean it. It’s so embarrassing. I can’t seem to remember any plans I make and I constantly have the feeling that I’m missing something. Even when people ask me about future plans I have to hesitate because in the back of my mind I think I have made other commitments.
I take a pill everyday for heartburn. It’s a prescription. I even have one of those pill containers for each day of the week. I usually forget to fill it and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lost track of whether I’ve taken the pill or not. The only way I can tell is when I’m awakened in the middle of the night with major heartburn like tonight. Oh, sure, I’ll take a pill now but it’s 1:30 in the morning and it takes an hour or so for the pill to work.
One suggestion I’ll surely get is to start writing things down. There is no way I could write down all the things I see or talk about every day. Besides, this came on so suddenly it really kind of scares me. I’ve always been one to remember everything. It’s always been a kind of source of pride. My memory has always been there for me to rely on and it’s not something I feel I can afford to lose, even partially.
I know that this could very easily be chalked up to getting older but I just don’t think that type of loss happens so fast. If it does, I hope it goes completely. I think the worst part of this is knowing. I have written in the past about mental illness and how horrible it must be if you know you suffer from it. Well, that’s my fear here. I don’t want to know about it. If I lose my memory at all, I want to lose all of it. I hate the way I’ve been feeling lately when I think I’m forgetting something. I literally feel like I’m going crazy. And this is the first time that’s ever bothered me.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
In Search Of The Perfect Song
I once wrote to a friend of mine about how I am in a constant search for the perfect pop song. I guess the true meaning of “pop” is popular. I’ve never thought of it that way. I have a couple definitions of “pop”. The first is a song that you can’t help but tap your toe to. A song that sticks in your head. The type that people whistle when they’re walking down the street. They’re usually upbeat and when I was a kid they use to call the genre bubble gum music. Here, I’ll try to lay out an example: the song “Ob La Di Ob La Da, by “The Beatles” is “pop” while “19’th Nervous Breakdown” by “The Rolling Stones” isn’t. Both great songs, both out of the same era in music yet one is, I don’t know, peppier than the other. It’s lighter and there isn’t any hidden meaning in it. It’s just a song about life. The “Stones” song, on the other hand, goes into issues that are relevant to life during that time. The key being, a good “pop” song isn’t about serious issues. They’re about high school or teenage love or driving fast cars and things like that.
The other definition I have for “pop” is a really smart love song. What’s a really smart love song? I guess I’m talking about one that holds up over time. One that, every time you hear it, you have some sort of reaction. “Your Song” by Elton John, to me, is a really smart love song. It’s almost 40 years old and still, again to me, holds up remarkably well.
“ I may not always love you.
But long as there are stars above you.
You’ll never need to doubt it.
I’ll make you so sure about it.
God only knows what I’d be without you.
If you should ever leave me,
Though life would still go on, believe me.
The world could show nothing to me.
So what good would living do me?
God only knows what I’d be without you.”
Another, and I think the ultimate; example of this type of song is “God Only Knows” by “The Beach Boys”. Actually, I think this could be one of the top three or four greatest love songs ever written. Hell with that put it at the top. Just read the lyrics. Could you possibly find fault with anything said in those 10 lines? Add the music and harmonies and I just can’t see how the song doesn’t move you. Three simple verses, actually only two because one is repeated.
I just went to you-tube and punched the song up and while listening to it I noticed that there were tears in my eyes. Yes, one of the reasons is because of my wimpyness, but jeez folks, this song is pure genius. It’s so f’ing beautiful that it literally brings tears to my eyes. Close your eyes and listen to it. Really listen to it. Remember that this was written by a 24 year old kid (Brian Wilson) and the angelic voice singing it was only 20 (his brother Carl). I listen to the song and I get the same feeling in the pit of my stomach that I get when looking at the waters of the Caribbean. It actually aches.
My original intent when I started writing this piece was to talk about another of Brian Wilson songs and how it meshes both types of the “pop” song I spoke of at the top. As usually happens I got way off track. I ask your forgiveness and thank you for your indulgence. I’ll save that for another post. Just take a listen to “God Only Knows” and, I believe, you can see how I could get so far away from my original subject. It’s a masterpiece, pure and simple.
The other definition I have for “pop” is a really smart love song. What’s a really smart love song? I guess I’m talking about one that holds up over time. One that, every time you hear it, you have some sort of reaction. “Your Song” by Elton John, to me, is a really smart love song. It’s almost 40 years old and still, again to me, holds up remarkably well.
“ I may not always love you.
But long as there are stars above you.
You’ll never need to doubt it.
I’ll make you so sure about it.
God only knows what I’d be without you.
If you should ever leave me,
Though life would still go on, believe me.
The world could show nothing to me.
So what good would living do me?
God only knows what I’d be without you.”
Another, and I think the ultimate; example of this type of song is “God Only Knows” by “The Beach Boys”. Actually, I think this could be one of the top three or four greatest love songs ever written. Hell with that put it at the top. Just read the lyrics. Could you possibly find fault with anything said in those 10 lines? Add the music and harmonies and I just can’t see how the song doesn’t move you. Three simple verses, actually only two because one is repeated.
I just went to you-tube and punched the song up and while listening to it I noticed that there were tears in my eyes. Yes, one of the reasons is because of my wimpyness, but jeez folks, this song is pure genius. It’s so f’ing beautiful that it literally brings tears to my eyes. Close your eyes and listen to it. Really listen to it. Remember that this was written by a 24 year old kid (Brian Wilson) and the angelic voice singing it was only 20 (his brother Carl). I listen to the song and I get the same feeling in the pit of my stomach that I get when looking at the waters of the Caribbean. It actually aches.
My original intent when I started writing this piece was to talk about another of Brian Wilson songs and how it meshes both types of the “pop” song I spoke of at the top. As usually happens I got way off track. I ask your forgiveness and thank you for your indulgence. I’ll save that for another post. Just take a listen to “God Only Knows” and, I believe, you can see how I could get so far away from my original subject. It’s a masterpiece, pure and simple.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Just Taking A Stroll
I was thinking, how come people, in general, like to think about their past? I’m down in the Detroit area waiting for my buddy to get back to his house cuz we’re going to the Tiger game. While waiting for him I decided to drive around and visit the old “haunts” if you will.
I went to breakfast at your basic coffee shop that we used to go to quite a bit in my stoner days. I don’t even know the name of it now but back then it was called “The Clock”. It was a 24-hour joint about a ½ step down from a “Denny’s”. Decent breakfast. I remember one of the reasons we would go there was because I could smoke, and, I think we can all remember how cool it was to be able to smoke in public places and not have to worry about your parents finding out.
I then took the drive into Oak Park, where I lived from the age of 11 until I moved to San Diego. I drove down 10-mile road and saw this old radio tower off one of the side streets. I had to make the turn onto the street and parked just outside the gate that wasn’t there when I was a kid. Boy that tower struck a chord.
I remember climbing that tower so many times and seeing how high we could get. I was always the lowest but back then I didn’t even care. I don’t think any of us ever got caught. This had to be while I was in sixth or seventh grade and before I started smoking pot so drugs could in no way be blamed for our craziness.
I started the car again and drove a few blocks past a house where a girl used to live that would always have people over and we would all just hang out in their basement. I’m not sure if you could say we partied down there because their was never any drugs or alcohol involved but we really had fun down there. A few years ago I heard she died. I’ve tried looking her name up on the web but never seem to get a hit on her name. I feel sort of bad about that because she tried to get in contact with me a few times out in California and I ignored the calls. I think we all have those types of regrets. I think the goal is to not let the regret pile get too big. Something, I know, I will always work on.
I then went by Pepper Elementary School. I spent the last two weeks of fifth and all of sixth grade there. I think those were my glory days in school. There were three of us in sixth grade that were the big guns of the place. The best athletes and the most popular with consistent girlfriends throughout the year. Well, as much as you could have a girlfriend while in sixth grade. You know, big fish in the proverbial small pond.
When I got into junior high the pond was just way too big. I started getting real fat and was pretty much embarrassed about myself from that point until I got sick and lost all that weight during my senior year of high school. I think back on those days and the people that tried to reach inside my head and I remember ignoring their attempts at reaching out to me. I stuck to my own little circle of friends and never quite grew out of that. Anyway, back to the tour.
I then drove towards my junior high and on the way I went by my old house. It looks great. The neighborhood looks so much better than I remember. I drove around the area and went by the houses that my friends in the neighborhood lived in. it brought back a number of fond and not so fond memories. I ended up getting by the school and saw that it is no longer a school but more like the district headquarters. It looked fine, and the local stores around it were mostly different than I remember. What used to be a predominantly Jewish area is now mostly Arab and Black. The stores have different names except for the Coney Island place that was a regular feature of my youth. Next door to the restaurant is the place where the gas station was that I burned my eyes out at. It’s now a Tim Horton’s donut shop. I probably would have had a hard time frying the pupils there but knowing me, anything’s possible.
I then went over by the high school. On the way there I drove by what once was the bowling alley. Good thing it’s now a strip mall because I probably would have tried to roll a few lines and gotten injured again. My finger is still sore from my latest athletic pursuit up here. The high school looks just as it used to be. I then drove by another old friends old house and, since I’m still in touch with her, I gave her a call. I got her voice mail and left a message telling her that I was by her old house and mentioned that I was just taking a trip down memory lane before I went to the ball game. She called and left me a message while I was at the game and said she was in the old neighborhood just yesterday. Pretty cool.
I could do this kind of thing every day. Seeing the old haunts did me some good. It made me think of so many people and places that I haven’t thought about in years. It’s kind of cool because I recently got a message through classmates.com saying that my 30’Th high school reunion was just starting to get into the planning stages. 30 years, wow. I feel like I just left the area.
I ended the tour and went to the game. The Tigers lost. Didn’t matter, god I love baseball. I think I’ll come down again in a couple weeks and drive down to Trenton. I lived there from birth up until we moved to Oak Park. I’m sure there will be a number of things going through my head doing that too and I’m sure I’ll tell you all about that too.
I went to breakfast at your basic coffee shop that we used to go to quite a bit in my stoner days. I don’t even know the name of it now but back then it was called “The Clock”. It was a 24-hour joint about a ½ step down from a “Denny’s”. Decent breakfast. I remember one of the reasons we would go there was because I could smoke, and, I think we can all remember how cool it was to be able to smoke in public places and not have to worry about your parents finding out.
I then took the drive into Oak Park, where I lived from the age of 11 until I moved to San Diego. I drove down 10-mile road and saw this old radio tower off one of the side streets. I had to make the turn onto the street and parked just outside the gate that wasn’t there when I was a kid. Boy that tower struck a chord.
I remember climbing that tower so many times and seeing how high we could get. I was always the lowest but back then I didn’t even care. I don’t think any of us ever got caught. This had to be while I was in sixth or seventh grade and before I started smoking pot so drugs could in no way be blamed for our craziness.
I started the car again and drove a few blocks past a house where a girl used to live that would always have people over and we would all just hang out in their basement. I’m not sure if you could say we partied down there because their was never any drugs or alcohol involved but we really had fun down there. A few years ago I heard she died. I’ve tried looking her name up on the web but never seem to get a hit on her name. I feel sort of bad about that because she tried to get in contact with me a few times out in California and I ignored the calls. I think we all have those types of regrets. I think the goal is to not let the regret pile get too big. Something, I know, I will always work on.
I then went by Pepper Elementary School. I spent the last two weeks of fifth and all of sixth grade there. I think those were my glory days in school. There were three of us in sixth grade that were the big guns of the place. The best athletes and the most popular with consistent girlfriends throughout the year. Well, as much as you could have a girlfriend while in sixth grade. You know, big fish in the proverbial small pond.
When I got into junior high the pond was just way too big. I started getting real fat and was pretty much embarrassed about myself from that point until I got sick and lost all that weight during my senior year of high school. I think back on those days and the people that tried to reach inside my head and I remember ignoring their attempts at reaching out to me. I stuck to my own little circle of friends and never quite grew out of that. Anyway, back to the tour.
I then drove towards my junior high and on the way I went by my old house. It looks great. The neighborhood looks so much better than I remember. I drove around the area and went by the houses that my friends in the neighborhood lived in. it brought back a number of fond and not so fond memories. I ended up getting by the school and saw that it is no longer a school but more like the district headquarters. It looked fine, and the local stores around it were mostly different than I remember. What used to be a predominantly Jewish area is now mostly Arab and Black. The stores have different names except for the Coney Island place that was a regular feature of my youth. Next door to the restaurant is the place where the gas station was that I burned my eyes out at. It’s now a Tim Horton’s donut shop. I probably would have had a hard time frying the pupils there but knowing me, anything’s possible.
I then went over by the high school. On the way there I drove by what once was the bowling alley. Good thing it’s now a strip mall because I probably would have tried to roll a few lines and gotten injured again. My finger is still sore from my latest athletic pursuit up here. The high school looks just as it used to be. I then drove by another old friends old house and, since I’m still in touch with her, I gave her a call. I got her voice mail and left a message telling her that I was by her old house and mentioned that I was just taking a trip down memory lane before I went to the ball game. She called and left me a message while I was at the game and said she was in the old neighborhood just yesterday. Pretty cool.
I could do this kind of thing every day. Seeing the old haunts did me some good. It made me think of so many people and places that I haven’t thought about in years. It’s kind of cool because I recently got a message through classmates.com saying that my 30’Th high school reunion was just starting to get into the planning stages. 30 years, wow. I feel like I just left the area.
I ended the tour and went to the game. The Tigers lost. Didn’t matter, god I love baseball. I think I’ll come down again in a couple weeks and drive down to Trenton. I lived there from birth up until we moved to Oak Park. I’m sure there will be a number of things going through my head doing that too and I’m sure I’ll tell you all about that too.
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