The gay marriage issue is suddenly back on the front page. The Senate has voted down an amendment to the constitution to effectively ban same sex marriage. I think it interesting that the timing of these headlines coincides with the coming congressional elections of 2006. Let’s see, when did we last speak of same sex marriage? Oh yeah, I remember, it was about two years ago. Oddly enough, it was also during an election cycle. That time it was during what seemed to be a rather tight race for President. Coincidence? I think not.
I am in a state of constant bewilderment that we, as a nation, do not have more important things to worry about. Our nation’s schools are a joke, we still rely on foreign energy to survive, we are in what could arguably be called a failed war effort in Iraq and it looks like Iran will soon have nuclear capabilities. Yet the most pressing issue the Republican party can bring up is gay marriage? Wow.
I can’t blame the right for bringing this, along with immigration, to the forefront at this time. I guess if I were of the same persuasion I would do the same. It is just as imperative now as it was in 2004 to the conservative movement to bring out the vote. The religious right has lived off the gay rights issue for the last few elections and for the right wing to bring the issue up at election time only helps mobilize the troops for those that would not normally vote in off year elections.
I really don’t want to hear any argument based on religious beliefs. It’s meaningless on so many levels not the least of which is the first amendment to the Constitution. Even without the constitution, any argument based on the bible is purely hypocritical. The very same bible, in the same chapter that says homosexuality is an abomination, allows me to purchase slaves as long as I purchase them from neighboring nations. The bible also allows me to sell my daughters into slavery. Do we just get to pick which laws of the bible we’ll follow and which ones we get a pass on?
How can we, as a nation, stand for the personal liberties of our citizens being denied because it happens to make others uncomfortable? I have yet to hear of an instance where someone answers their door to a group of homosexuals trying to recruit them into the fold, yet I’m sure we’ve all got stories of being bothered by that knock on the door and opening it to find those two or three friendly faces holding a number of copies of “The Watchtower”. Does this not make even more of us uncomfortable? We would never even consider making laws to deny the rights of this group of citizens.
Now is the time for the left to do something they have been too afraid to do since the Clinton years. Stand up for true liberal ideals. Speak about them constantly, attack the right for their Neanderthal like thinking. Counter any and all attacks with feeling. If the dems do not go on the offensive there will be no house majority. Don’t let Kerry’s refusal to stand up for himself in 2004 be the same mistake you make in 2006.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
The Biggest Lesson Of All
I went to a funeral today. Strangest thing, I haven’t seen the guy in just less than 30 years and I feel like I lost a really good friend. I met the guy just after I moved to Oak Park when I was 11. He was a friend of my brother David for a few years. When I got into High School we started to blend into the same crowd and we would often see each other on weekend nights and at school. We’d also hang out at the “teen center” where we could smoke and play pool and ping-pong. I found it cool that his name was David Todd and so was my brothers.
We would party together and just hang out but I don’t think I was ever alone with the guy. I guess you could say he was just this side of an acquaintance. That doesn’t sound right, he was part of the gang. I couldn’t tell you his likes and dislikes or the things he liked to do, I just plain didn’t know him that well. I think that can be said about a lot of people’s friends in High School. So why is his death making me feel so empty inside? Well I think there are a couple reasons for that.
The first is that I still see David as he was. 17 or 18 years old and full of life. I see him the way he was when he and I, along with two other friends drove down to Cedar Pointe in the summer after my senior year. We stayed in a hotel for the evening and did the things that 18 and 19 year old kids do when they’re off on their own. Kids like that should never die. They’re supposed to live forever, at least that’s the thought when you’re that age.
Reason number two is much more basic. He was, as I stated earlier, one of the gang. A peer. It brings the fear of aging and the possibility of life ending right to the forefront. That’s just plain uncomfortable.
The funeral itself was much more emotional for me than I thought it would be. It was a graveside service so, as usual; I got there very early. I thought it very important that I go for the basic fear that I didn’t know if any of the old gang would be there. I was just walking around the site all alone. I guess you could call it meditating about life and all it’s questions that can never be answered.
The limo arrived with the casket and as the guy from the cemetery got out I asked him if I was in the right place. I was. I waited a few more minutes and asked him if he knew what had happened, how had David died? He said he hadn’t seen the paperwork so he didn’t know. The family started arriving and everyone was talking to each other and expressing condolences. I didn’t know anyone so I just stood off to the side and waited.
My friend Mark showed up and I felt a little more comfortable and then two other guys I knew from High School arrived. At least I had someone to stand around with. I joined them while they went to the family and we all gave our condolences. I introduced myself and was met with a familiarity from David’s sisters. Partially because my Brother was his friend and also because my last name was relatively well known during my High School years.
After the service was complete we hung around for a bit and two of David’s sisters approached me and we chatted for a bit. They asked how I knew David and I explained that. We talked about David for a bit and I told his younger sister that I felt horrible but I had to ask what happened. She told me that they found out about his death a day after he died and explained that the autopsy found clogged arteries and things of that ilk. She mentioned how sad it was that David had finally straightened himself out and had been clean for eight months and then this had to happen.
They both asked where I was living and when I said East Lansing they both expressed surprise at how far I drove to get there and asked me why I did it. I started to choke up a bit and told them how important I thought it was that someone from that stage in his life was there and I wasn’t sure who else would show up. They both reached out for me and held my arms and told me how sweet that was. I felt so odd being comforted by two women who had just lost their brother but I think my explanation helped them too. They introduced me to a couple of their friends and told them what I had said so I think it was a good thing.
I spoke to Jill, the younger sister, for a short time and she expressed the usual regrets about not knowing him better and how she wishes she had called him more often. I told her how natural that feeling was and told her my story of moving to Florida and looking up a number of my old friends and staying in contact with them. Most of those friends are you guys reading this right now.
I learned an important lesson from today’s events. I learned that I did the right thing by looking you guys up. I learned, even more than I thought, how important your friendships are to me. The same goes for my Brothers and Sister. I love all you guys and I don’t ever want you to forget it. Without you all I am nothing inside. In a post a few weeks back I asked of a certain family I knew, “How did they breathe?” the answer for me is easy. It’s all of you and I promise to thank my stars everyday for the rest of my life for the knowledge I gained today from a grieving Sister.
We would party together and just hang out but I don’t think I was ever alone with the guy. I guess you could say he was just this side of an acquaintance. That doesn’t sound right, he was part of the gang. I couldn’t tell you his likes and dislikes or the things he liked to do, I just plain didn’t know him that well. I think that can be said about a lot of people’s friends in High School. So why is his death making me feel so empty inside? Well I think there are a couple reasons for that.
The first is that I still see David as he was. 17 or 18 years old and full of life. I see him the way he was when he and I, along with two other friends drove down to Cedar Pointe in the summer after my senior year. We stayed in a hotel for the evening and did the things that 18 and 19 year old kids do when they’re off on their own. Kids like that should never die. They’re supposed to live forever, at least that’s the thought when you’re that age.
Reason number two is much more basic. He was, as I stated earlier, one of the gang. A peer. It brings the fear of aging and the possibility of life ending right to the forefront. That’s just plain uncomfortable.
The funeral itself was much more emotional for me than I thought it would be. It was a graveside service so, as usual; I got there very early. I thought it very important that I go for the basic fear that I didn’t know if any of the old gang would be there. I was just walking around the site all alone. I guess you could call it meditating about life and all it’s questions that can never be answered.
The limo arrived with the casket and as the guy from the cemetery got out I asked him if I was in the right place. I was. I waited a few more minutes and asked him if he knew what had happened, how had David died? He said he hadn’t seen the paperwork so he didn’t know. The family started arriving and everyone was talking to each other and expressing condolences. I didn’t know anyone so I just stood off to the side and waited.
My friend Mark showed up and I felt a little more comfortable and then two other guys I knew from High School arrived. At least I had someone to stand around with. I joined them while they went to the family and we all gave our condolences. I introduced myself and was met with a familiarity from David’s sisters. Partially because my Brother was his friend and also because my last name was relatively well known during my High School years.
After the service was complete we hung around for a bit and two of David’s sisters approached me and we chatted for a bit. They asked how I knew David and I explained that. We talked about David for a bit and I told his younger sister that I felt horrible but I had to ask what happened. She told me that they found out about his death a day after he died and explained that the autopsy found clogged arteries and things of that ilk. She mentioned how sad it was that David had finally straightened himself out and had been clean for eight months and then this had to happen.
They both asked where I was living and when I said East Lansing they both expressed surprise at how far I drove to get there and asked me why I did it. I started to choke up a bit and told them how important I thought it was that someone from that stage in his life was there and I wasn’t sure who else would show up. They both reached out for me and held my arms and told me how sweet that was. I felt so odd being comforted by two women who had just lost their brother but I think my explanation helped them too. They introduced me to a couple of their friends and told them what I had said so I think it was a good thing.
I spoke to Jill, the younger sister, for a short time and she expressed the usual regrets about not knowing him better and how she wishes she had called him more often. I told her how natural that feeling was and told her my story of moving to Florida and looking up a number of my old friends and staying in contact with them. Most of those friends are you guys reading this right now.
I learned an important lesson from today’s events. I learned that I did the right thing by looking you guys up. I learned, even more than I thought, how important your friendships are to me. The same goes for my Brothers and Sister. I love all you guys and I don’t ever want you to forget it. Without you all I am nothing inside. In a post a few weeks back I asked of a certain family I knew, “How did they breathe?” the answer for me is easy. It’s all of you and I promise to thank my stars everyday for the rest of my life for the knowledge I gained today from a grieving Sister.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
It's Just Not The Same
While at the “Police” concert the other night I was doing my normal looking at all the other people there. Directly behind me were a couple girls, maybe 18 or 19 years old. There was a song being played called “Can’t Stand Losing You” and at one point in the song is the verse, “I see you sent my letters back, and my LP records and they’re all scratched.” Well, that got me wondering, do these girls behind me even know what an LP is? Even if they do, do they have any idea how important they were to people in my age group?
The first album I ever bought, with my own money, was “Alice Cooper” “Billion Dollar Babies”. I was 12 years old and in sixth grade. Don’t get me wrong; I grew up in a household full of music. I remember as a kid of eight or nine and even younger having albums in the house by singers like Dionne Warwick singing Burt Bacharach and Hal David songs. We always had a number of Motown albums and singles in the house too. The “Cooper” album was the first I ever bought all on my own. It was all mine.
As I got older my taste in music became, what I like to call, more refined and my collection became much more exclusive. I, of course, bought my share of “Beatles” and other albums that others had but I would have no problem buying records that none of my friends had ever heard of. I remember buying the album “Flat As A Pancake” by “Head East when I was 14 just because of the song, “Never Been Any Reason”. I took great pride in the knowledge that I didn’t know anyone that had the record.
My record collection became very important to me. My Mother used to give David and I $5.00 every Friday and I would take mine and go to Korvette’s, a local department store, because they sold albums for $3.99. I had a job at 14 and would always spend a good portion of my check adding to my collection.
When I got my license to drive I remember going to a place called “Peaches” to peruse their massive aisles full of records from all over the world. You were pretty cool when you picked up an import of “The Beatles” and, trust me, I had my share. My friends and I would go to different record stores all the time. It was important to us.
I really got into reading the liner notes. I loved it when the lyrics were included. Little trivia for you. Did you know that the first album to ever have the lyrics included was “Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band”? You do now. I used to pay so much attention to who played what instrument and always looked to see if they were on any other albums I owned. I would read the album cover thoroughly at the store to see who the players were and I would sometimes buy a record based on who the players were even if I’d never heard the song. I became quite arrogant when it came to my musical tastes.
When I moved to California in 1980 I discovered what, for a record collector, could have been mistaken for heaven on earth. “Tower Records”. There was one right across the street from the Sports Arena and it was open till midnight. It had everything I could ever want. California was far ahead of Michigan when it came to musical tastes. I would find all kinds of new bands like “Squeeze” and “The English Beat”. Groups that I still listen to today. I really got into Phil Collins’s first two solo albums and still consider them to be among my favorite records.
With the mid eighties came the cd and everything changed. They just don’t seem as personal. Albums were mine, cd’s are more, I don’t know, not mine. Listening to music isn’t the event it used to be. You can listen to music anywhere now. Back then you had to take the time to listen to it. Like I said, it’s just not as personal.
Anyway, back to the girls at the concert. I highly doubt they’ve ever had an album. They can never have the memory of the popping sound of an LP. That sound that seemed like a campfire when the needle hit the record. The scratch in the middle of your favorite song. Yeah, it was messed up but it was your scratch. I just don’t know if you can appreciate cd’s as much as your “LP records” that are all scratched.
The first album I ever bought, with my own money, was “Alice Cooper” “Billion Dollar Babies”. I was 12 years old and in sixth grade. Don’t get me wrong; I grew up in a household full of music. I remember as a kid of eight or nine and even younger having albums in the house by singers like Dionne Warwick singing Burt Bacharach and Hal David songs. We always had a number of Motown albums and singles in the house too. The “Cooper” album was the first I ever bought all on my own. It was all mine.
As I got older my taste in music became, what I like to call, more refined and my collection became much more exclusive. I, of course, bought my share of “Beatles” and other albums that others had but I would have no problem buying records that none of my friends had ever heard of. I remember buying the album “Flat As A Pancake” by “Head East when I was 14 just because of the song, “Never Been Any Reason”. I took great pride in the knowledge that I didn’t know anyone that had the record.
My record collection became very important to me. My Mother used to give David and I $5.00 every Friday and I would take mine and go to Korvette’s, a local department store, because they sold albums for $3.99. I had a job at 14 and would always spend a good portion of my check adding to my collection.
When I got my license to drive I remember going to a place called “Peaches” to peruse their massive aisles full of records from all over the world. You were pretty cool when you picked up an import of “The Beatles” and, trust me, I had my share. My friends and I would go to different record stores all the time. It was important to us.
I really got into reading the liner notes. I loved it when the lyrics were included. Little trivia for you. Did you know that the first album to ever have the lyrics included was “Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band”? You do now. I used to pay so much attention to who played what instrument and always looked to see if they were on any other albums I owned. I would read the album cover thoroughly at the store to see who the players were and I would sometimes buy a record based on who the players were even if I’d never heard the song. I became quite arrogant when it came to my musical tastes.
When I moved to California in 1980 I discovered what, for a record collector, could have been mistaken for heaven on earth. “Tower Records”. There was one right across the street from the Sports Arena and it was open till midnight. It had everything I could ever want. California was far ahead of Michigan when it came to musical tastes. I would find all kinds of new bands like “Squeeze” and “The English Beat”. Groups that I still listen to today. I really got into Phil Collins’s first two solo albums and still consider them to be among my favorite records.
With the mid eighties came the cd and everything changed. They just don’t seem as personal. Albums were mine, cd’s are more, I don’t know, not mine. Listening to music isn’t the event it used to be. You can listen to music anywhere now. Back then you had to take the time to listen to it. Like I said, it’s just not as personal.
Anyway, back to the girls at the concert. I highly doubt they’ve ever had an album. They can never have the memory of the popping sound of an LP. That sound that seemed like a campfire when the needle hit the record. The scratch in the middle of your favorite song. Yeah, it was messed up but it was your scratch. I just don’t know if you can appreciate cd’s as much as your “LP records” that are all scratched.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Mitch, The Police, Ho Hum...
So I saw “The Tubes” last night and came back to the hotel and slept relatively well until about 5:00 am. I sat around, went down to get a paper and showered until I blew enough time so I could go out to breakfast. I went to a kosher style deli in Southfield. That’s one of the things I always liked about the Detroit area, the restaurants. I’ve always loved delis, must be in the blood, and there are a number of good ones down here. By the way the show was great. Man I love those guys.
So after breakfast I had to go to Best Buy to fix my Sirius radio. I had tickets to “The Police” and Elvis Costello tonight and I had plenty of time to just get stuff done that I’d been wanting to do. While my car was being worked on I was just walking around the store looking at cd’s and stuff when I saw someone that looked familiar. I stared for a second and realized that it was Mitch Albom, the writer. He was on the phone so I waited and approached him and introduced myself and told him I had sent him an email a few years ago and was very impressed that he replied. I told him I wrote about it in my blog and that he was an inspiration to me. He was very gracious and we talked for a couple minutes. He asked if I had moved back to Detroit and I told him East Lansing but I come down a lot for Tiger games and concerts. He asked if I was going to the game tonight and I said no, “The Police”. He told me it seemed everyone was and we shook hands and I thanked him for whatever it is we thank people like him for and off I went. I thought that was so cool I started calling everybody to tell them about it.
So the stereo got fixed, I chatted with my buddy Mitch and I still had a concert to see. Pretty full day. I went back to the hotel to watch the Yankee/Red Sox game and get ready for the concert.
Everyone I spoke to about going to the concert kept saying how great Elvis Costello was going to be and giving “The Police” very little credit. I kept thinking that this should really be a special evening. The band had no new album to promote so that meant they would only be playing songs they’d already recorded. The body of work they have to choose from is pretty impressive and I told one of the friends I went with that they could literally play a greatest hits set and fill a whole show.
That’s what they did. Don’t get me wrong, Elvis was really good, but The Police” were something special. I think everyone there felt the same. From the minute they hit the stage 15000 people got on their feet and we never sat back down. 18 songs and not one was something the crowd thought was worthy of taking a break during. It’s really quite impressive if you think about it. Each of the songs played are well known by you, me and pretty much everyone we know in our generation. That’s even if you’re not a big fan of the group.
I’m real happy I saw them tonight. I don’t see them doing another tour after this and it was nice to see them at the top of their game as it were. This was the only real super group of the eighties and it’s nice to see they still have it. It would be impossible to say they played all their hits because they would never have enough time. On the other hand, every song they did play was a hit and the crowd at the theater tonight surely didn’t leave disappointed in any way.
So after breakfast I had to go to Best Buy to fix my Sirius radio. I had tickets to “The Police” and Elvis Costello tonight and I had plenty of time to just get stuff done that I’d been wanting to do. While my car was being worked on I was just walking around the store looking at cd’s and stuff when I saw someone that looked familiar. I stared for a second and realized that it was Mitch Albom, the writer. He was on the phone so I waited and approached him and introduced myself and told him I had sent him an email a few years ago and was very impressed that he replied. I told him I wrote about it in my blog and that he was an inspiration to me. He was very gracious and we talked for a couple minutes. He asked if I had moved back to Detroit and I told him East Lansing but I come down a lot for Tiger games and concerts. He asked if I was going to the game tonight and I said no, “The Police”. He told me it seemed everyone was and we shook hands and I thanked him for whatever it is we thank people like him for and off I went. I thought that was so cool I started calling everybody to tell them about it.
So the stereo got fixed, I chatted with my buddy Mitch and I still had a concert to see. Pretty full day. I went back to the hotel to watch the Yankee/Red Sox game and get ready for the concert.
Everyone I spoke to about going to the concert kept saying how great Elvis Costello was going to be and giving “The Police” very little credit. I kept thinking that this should really be a special evening. The band had no new album to promote so that meant they would only be playing songs they’d already recorded. The body of work they have to choose from is pretty impressive and I told one of the friends I went with that they could literally play a greatest hits set and fill a whole show.
That’s what they did. Don’t get me wrong, Elvis was really good, but The Police” were something special. I think everyone there felt the same. From the minute they hit the stage 15000 people got on their feet and we never sat back down. 18 songs and not one was something the crowd thought was worthy of taking a break during. It’s really quite impressive if you think about it. Each of the songs played are well known by you, me and pretty much everyone we know in our generation. That’s even if you’re not a big fan of the group.
I’m real happy I saw them tonight. I don’t see them doing another tour after this and it was nice to see them at the top of their game as it were. This was the only real super group of the eighties and it’s nice to see they still have it. It would be impossible to say they played all their hits because they would never have enough time. On the other hand, every song they did play was a hit and the crowd at the theater tonight surely didn’t leave disappointed in any way.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Totally Tubular
The first time I saw “The Tubes” was, quite by accident, at the Del Mar Fair in July of 1983. I was at the fair with a couple of my roommates at the time and there was a concert so we decided to stay. At the time the band had recently put out what would become their most popular album and the single “She’s A Beauty” was just starting to get airplay on MTV.
What I saw, to put it mildly, restored my faith in Rock n Roll. I’d heard a few of their songs before but this was something I truly wasn’t prepared for. These guys were all over the stage. There were “Rockette” like dancers, monsters, jungle tribesman and so much more. The lead singer, Fee Waybill, changed costumes for each song and was actually near naked a number of times.
I went home from the show and proceeded to buy a number of “Tubes” albums and really got into them. When I was in Michigan in the summer of ’84 I saw them again at the Royal Oak Theater. Another great show and I just plain couldn’t believe how much I enjoyed these guys. I saw them again in Los Angeles with my friend Ed in the summer of ’85 in what turned out to be their last live appearance in 10 years. The concert in L.A. was even more special to me because the back up band was “Utopia”, the band fronted by one of my musical heroes, Todd Rundgren.
In the mid 90’s, as I was on my way home from work, I heard on the radio that the band was playing at some bar in San Diego. I got home a little after 2 in the morning and crawled into bed and woke Shelly up to tell her about the show. God forbid I wait the three or four hours for her to wake up, I had to tell her right then. We went to the show with my friend Mary and her husband Glenn. This was the first time I’d seen them without all the theatrics and they were great. Just straight out rock and we all had a great time
I’ve seen them a number of times since then. Once, with the whole family, at a corn festival in Brentwood California, and since the divorce, a bunch of times at bars and fairs around the country. I’ve never felt cheated when I’ve seen them.
I’m going down to the Detroit area tomorrow to see them at a festval in St. Claire Shores and I can’t believe how excited I am. It’s a no seat arrangement and I’m hoping I can get right up near the stage. You just plain haven’t lived until you’ve seen Fee’s alter ego Quay Lude perform “White Punks On Dope’ and tomorrow I’m gonna live one more time.
What I saw, to put it mildly, restored my faith in Rock n Roll. I’d heard a few of their songs before but this was something I truly wasn’t prepared for. These guys were all over the stage. There were “Rockette” like dancers, monsters, jungle tribesman and so much more. The lead singer, Fee Waybill, changed costumes for each song and was actually near naked a number of times.
I went home from the show and proceeded to buy a number of “Tubes” albums and really got into them. When I was in Michigan in the summer of ’84 I saw them again at the Royal Oak Theater. Another great show and I just plain couldn’t believe how much I enjoyed these guys. I saw them again in Los Angeles with my friend Ed in the summer of ’85 in what turned out to be their last live appearance in 10 years. The concert in L.A. was even more special to me because the back up band was “Utopia”, the band fronted by one of my musical heroes, Todd Rundgren.
In the mid 90’s, as I was on my way home from work, I heard on the radio that the band was playing at some bar in San Diego. I got home a little after 2 in the morning and crawled into bed and woke Shelly up to tell her about the show. God forbid I wait the three or four hours for her to wake up, I had to tell her right then. We went to the show with my friend Mary and her husband Glenn. This was the first time I’d seen them without all the theatrics and they were great. Just straight out rock and we all had a great time
I’ve seen them a number of times since then. Once, with the whole family, at a corn festival in Brentwood California, and since the divorce, a bunch of times at bars and fairs around the country. I’ve never felt cheated when I’ve seen them.
I’m going down to the Detroit area tomorrow to see them at a festval in St. Claire Shores and I can’t believe how excited I am. It’s a no seat arrangement and I’m hoping I can get right up near the stage. You just plain haven’t lived until you’ve seen Fee’s alter ego Quay Lude perform “White Punks On Dope’ and tomorrow I’m gonna live one more time.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Vroom, Vroom
Mike, my nieces fiancé, invited me to join him for some Marlboro cigarette promotion where you get to ride around in an IROC car with a professional driver around the Michigan International Speedway. I accepted the invitation immediately, not because I’m a race fan at all, but for two reasons. First of all because I never go out. Seriously, I spend, easily, six out of seven evenings a week sitting in this here chair and watching television, messing around on the computer or writing.
The second reason, and this is exactly what I meant in the previous post, was that I figured it would give me something to write about. I figured I’d start the essay a week or so before the event and kind of relay the excitement and nerves I was feeling leading up to the event. So I waited, and waited but the nerves never came. Don’t get me wrong, I was looking forward to it but I thought I’d get that feeling I get every time I go out to do something with others. The feeling that I would start looking for reasons to bail out of whatever I might be doing that might cause me to enjoy myself. Those reasons never came.
This was the first time I can remember that I actually allowed myself to have fun. I wasn’t worried about what I looked like to others. I wasn’t concerned with what others thought. I just plain didn’t care. There wasn’t any time during the entire three hours we were there that I felt nervous. I realize that during normal situations nobody would ever know that I’m all abuzz inside but I am. Not this time though. It was almost disappointing, like I was missing part of me. Almost a numb feeling. Different.
When we got there it was rather odd to me. Being sponsored by a tobacco company even the parking attendants had Marlboro jackets and hats. Once we showed our identification to get in and got to a parking space a guy came up to give us some rules that we’d already heard from the other folks as we pulled in. he said to make sure that we had our picture ID and to not forget our cigarettes as smoking was permitted inside. I don’t smoke cigarettes and thought the statement encouraging us to “make sure you bring them” was humorous.
They put us in our suits that were basically walk around saunas and fitted us for helmets. We then went to a tent that had a couple example cars in it and a number of coolers with water and “PowerAde” to keep us hydrated. There were also snacks of nutrition bars and high carb stuff. This was the case for every new section we went to. Very well thought out.
When it came time for the first part of our speedway experience we were led out to the main raceway and each put into a car with a professional driver. I was a bit nervous about getting in because we had to go in through the window and I’m not the most flexible of men. I surprised myself with my flexibility and was able to get in without much effort and away we went. They told us beforehand to give a thumbs up if we wanted go faster and down if it was too fast. They also told us a signal to use if we’d had enough but there was no way I was gonna use that.
I wasn’t quite sure when to start putting my thumb up so I waited until we got to what I thought was a normal speed during the first lap and out it up and held it there for the rest of the ride. It was a much smoother trip than I thought it would be. I felt the g-force holding me against the seat and got a true appreciation of how hard it would be to drive while feeling the push against you. We went around the track three times for a total of six miles and after we were through I asked the driver how fast we got up to and he told me we were right around 150 miles per hour. Pretty cool.
The next thing we did was get into these Mustangs and did what they call drifting. This was easily the highlight of the day for me. This was just going around a course and taking really tight curves at high speeds. We were slipping and sliding all over the place. Once again I had my thumb up the whole time and it was great. The driver had some thrash metal music going on and it fit quite well with what we were doing.
After that they fed us a pretty good meal and gave us the picture you see to the left. Cool thing about the picture is that when they took it the car wasn’t there. We were just standing in front of a blue screen. Anyway, we had a real good time and my urge to buy some chewing tobacco so I could feel at home with these people was overtaken by common sense. I didn’t see one person there with tobacco stains on their shirts.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
It's A Good Friend
Something inside me has changed ever since I’ve started this whole writing thing. I think I may have become more confident in myself. I actually look at anything I do or that I see happen in a completely different way than I used to. When I’m at a store, concert, or sporting event I’m always thinking about how the event can be translated into something that I can put on the blog.
I often wonder if that puts things in a different light than they should or do I perhaps miss something that I should take in a different manner because I’m not paying things there proper respect all because I’m writing it in my head. I’ve written about my uncles’ funeral that I probably should have paid much more attention to than I did. I probably should have been more in mourning than I was. It’s weird, I’ve actually found myself waking up on a day off trying to think of something to do and one of the criteria is that it has to be something that could make a good story.
I’ve done a few things that I probably never would have done if I weren’t going to write about it. Back in 2005 I did Karaoke and that’s something I would have never done if, in the back of my head, I weren’t planning to write about it. The same can obviously be said about my recent venture into stand up comedy. I can’t imagine anything giving me the motivation to do something like that if it wasn’t for my knowing I would be writing about it.
I don’t kid myself, I know I’m not going to write the “Great American Novel” but I’ve found something that sometimes make me feel like I’ve got something to offer. I get emails and comments, both good and bad, from literally all over the world. I’ve found that I can sometimes strike a chord with complete strangers just by sitting here in my lounge chair with my computer on my lap. I‘ve found a good friend in this writing thing and we can all use a good friend.
I often wonder if that puts things in a different light than they should or do I perhaps miss something that I should take in a different manner because I’m not paying things there proper respect all because I’m writing it in my head. I’ve written about my uncles’ funeral that I probably should have paid much more attention to than I did. I probably should have been more in mourning than I was. It’s weird, I’ve actually found myself waking up on a day off trying to think of something to do and one of the criteria is that it has to be something that could make a good story.
I’ve done a few things that I probably never would have done if I weren’t going to write about it. Back in 2005 I did Karaoke and that’s something I would have never done if, in the back of my head, I weren’t planning to write about it. The same can obviously be said about my recent venture into stand up comedy. I can’t imagine anything giving me the motivation to do something like that if it wasn’t for my knowing I would be writing about it.
I don’t kid myself, I know I’m not going to write the “Great American Novel” but I’ve found something that sometimes make me feel like I’ve got something to offer. I get emails and comments, both good and bad, from literally all over the world. I’ve found that I can sometimes strike a chord with complete strangers just by sitting here in my lounge chair with my computer on my lap. I‘ve found a good friend in this writing thing and we can all use a good friend.
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