Well Lost

One of my duties as a Cabin Counselor at the YMCA Youth Camp I worked at as a youth was to lead my cabin on treks in surrounding forest of the Bradshaw Mountains.  There were various overlooks, swimming holes, climbing rocks, and other attractions that would serve as extra-campular attractions for getting the youth out and about into the beautiful pine scented outdoors. There were plenty of opportunities for these excursions, but every Wednesday was designated as 'all day hike day',  in which all campers and their counselors would vacate the camp for the good part of the day.

Some of the destinations had memorable names for the youth, like Hassayampa Lake, Jesse James Rock, Wolf Creek Campground, and Spruce Mountain Overlook. Often three or four cabins would combine on a destination, allowing for several adults to lead the youth and prevent problems with stragglers.  At the destination, there would be activities and the youth would carry their own water and lunches.

Occasionally, I would take my cabin out alone. Though discouraged, no one really enforced the premise that there needed to be more that one adult in each trek.  At times, I would just not want to deal with another cabin...allowing for the trek to be just a bit more adventurous and random.

On the way back to camp, there were a few times when I might miss one of the sign markers that designated one of the back trails to camp. In no 'real' danger of being lost, we might overshoot the camp and come out on to Groom Creek Route North of the Camp, and have to back track a bit. To the youth, this feeling of being lost would actually add to to the adventure in remarkable ways. The youth would have stories to tell back at camp, and perhaps they might even be a little late for the assembly before dinner. There are unique emotions and feelings that one feels when an appearance of being 'lost' is encountered.  The effect would also add an odd feeling of unity to the cabin as the boys dealt with the adventure of their All Day Hike combined with 'almost being lost'.  There is something special one discovers about oneself, to be faced with challenges, to walk on new paths, and to face adversity and triumph.

I will never forget those feelings.  There were times in my own youth when I was in the woods not completely sure of the correct path to take.  There are a lot of life long parallels that can be internalized from this.

Recently, while reading 'before the frost', the author Henning Mankell had the narrator talk a bit abut this phenomenon.

"She pushed some branches aside and moved in under the trees.  Once she had read about a meadow in the forest that could only be found by someone who had lost their way. To her mind, this captured some of the mystical dimension of human existence. If only one dared to get lost, one could find the unexpected. There was a whole world beyond the highways and biways-if you just dared to take the turnoff."\

Well said, Mr. Mankell.  It expresses well this truth I have found.  I have discovered in life that it is often the path less traveled, even the wrong path, that can sometimes provide unexpected treasure and help us reach those beautiful unexpected vistas.


Cheers, nca

p.s. Henning Mankell passed away in 2015.   As one of my favorite writers, he is greatly missed by me. If you have not read any of his books, I highly recommend. Or check out one of the Kenneth Branagh PBS movies based off of the Wallender books. To quote Kenneth Branagh:

"He was living day to day, often unhappily, sometimes beautifully, as if it might be his last."

May we all live everyday as if it is our last, and may we find our own special path.

Applause Meet Her

At a recent Pops symphony event I attended I was intrigued by the audience requirement to clap and cheer when the conductor glided on to the stage.

Are we really expected to cheer when the conductor comes out to do his job? The job for which we paid to attend and hear? Before the very first string note has been plucked, before the first drum beat has been percussed?

To me this would be akin to tipping the waitress when she shows up to take my food order.  Or paying Apple iTunes to preview a song.

Was this particular event good?  It absolutely was. But there were no guarantees for that, which makes the applause received just a bit premature.  And, to be quite honest, the conductor did a great job, but he was not actually playing an instrument himself, he was waving a baton around and he provided some animation in that fashion for the concert.

It seems to me that applause is quite taken for granted in American culture. Not only do we have this premature applausalation happening, but it is rare that I attend any recent event that the audience does not provide an obligatory standing 'o'.   The standing ovation is typically followed by the entertainer returning to the stage and banging out 1-3 more tunes. AS IF they did not intend to do those 3 tunes, even though the tunes are well prepared and orchestrated even to the point of having prepared pyrotechnics etc.

Obligatory pre-performance applause, obligatory standing ovation, obligatory post finale finale.....it all seems just a bit regimented and prescribed behavior. As we all grew up with the canned applause and laughter pushed on us through American sitcoms since the 60's, we are quite accustomed to having our accolades dictated to us like lambs to the slaughter. Laughter and Slaughter share much in common.

We, as Americans need to go back to our roots and do the unexpected. Doing so would make applause and accolades more meaningful and more deserved, and the quality of our entertainment would improve.  I refer to the scene in the Gangs of New York where the performers were booed, heckled and speckled with tomatoes and fruits...and the yet the show did go on. Entertainers must entertain. We do no service in coddling them. And judging by my ticket prices, their reward comes in their paychecks not from  mandatory applause.

The next time we participate in a concert, let's think hard before we put our hands together.

Cheers, nca

The Second Bear Was Too Soft

The Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States reads 'A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."

Let me go on record to say that I am jiggy with it.

And let me also go on record that I am ok with some laws that restrict what arms can be carried and by whom.

Is that a contradiction? Maybe so.

There are some restrictions that are already in place,undisputed. An example of this is that I can't tote a Thermonuclear bomb in my F150 to the Fry's parking lot.  I think we are all in agreement on that one. Also, I would probably have pretty universal agreement that I can't go patrolling the riverbed down by the Airport with a FIM-92 Stinger positioned on my shoulder.  Other restrictions can probably also be agreed upon. Do we want a five year old child walking down the street with a sawed off shotgun?  Do we want convicted rapists and murderers walking into the church with concealed 22 mag Glocks?  Do we think it is kosher to allow target practice on the grounds of a nursery, or a national cemetery, or in Grand Central Station?

Since I am guessing we can agree that none of this is acceptable behavior anywhere in this country, I think it is safe to say that we are all willing to negotiate what controls are acceptable. 

Let's face it, when our Founding Father's wrote the 2nd amendment, their Arms of choice were single action, muzzle loading, extremely inaccurate, heavy, with no rifling. The ammunition involved leaden Minie balls with no jackets.  It would take a good minute to load and fire, and the destruction rendered would likely be limited to one target.  I am not saying the right to bear arms needs to be restricted to the arms of 1789 when the Amendment was ratified, but it does help to have their perspective of the capabilities when they wrote the Amendment.

We should be able to agree that some restrictions are necessary, and that our Founding Father's did not fully realize the damage potential that Arms would advance to over the next 250 years.

So now, in my reasoning I think it should be possible to sit down at a table and discuss necessary restrictions and controls in a intelligent manner.  If we had been able to restrict the recent killers across America, theater shooters, school shooters, highway shooters, and all the rest to single action muzzle loading un-rifled flintlocks, then much less damage would have been done.  Is this realistic....no. I fully understand the reality of that.  But it is realistic that some degree of control can be regulated, hashed out in intelligent debate.  

Am I the right person to make these decisions. Probably not. I do not carry. And I do not oppose those who choose to carry.  I have found great enjoyment in target shooting over the years, but I am not a sportsman or hunter.  I am willing to be educated on what controls are necessary and which are not.  I myself have thought that allowing concealed weapons in schools and public places is not a good idea.  I also think restrictions on automated weapons, and restrictions on extreme magazines is a good idea. But I am willing to hear the debate with an open mind. But, after the debate is done, I am not alone to think that some changes, including gun controls, are warranted and overdue.

Therefore, let me go on record that I do feel the debate needs to happen, soon, and in a very intelligent and open minded way. I would like to feel that my daughters can be safe in movie theaters and church, and that my grand-children can be safe at school.  My United States is not a third world country, and these precious children should be able to live safe lives protected from the extreme crazies that are already planning their next tragic hits.  If we don't feel that this is possible, in these United States, than something very wrong is going on. 

Cheers, nca

Words and Pictures

My long time buddy Tom has been posting some awesome pictures he took of Upper Antelope Canyon. Spectacular place. Fantastic photos. Amazing really. I think Tom is very talented. I have several other friends who do photography and I am humbled by some of their pictures. I will probably have to get myself a nice quality digital camera here pretty soon. I probably would still not be as talented as them, regardless of the technology.

It makes me think about the old saying, 'a picture is worth a thousand words'.  In the cases of some of the pictures that inspire us all, the thousand may be an understatement.

I can think of this picture.

And this.

Yet, some words can not be replaced by a box full of pictures.

The Gettysburg Address had 272 words that could not be replaced by a vault of pictures. Those immortal words encompassed the death of  thousands of Americans, the ravaging of a countryside and the terrible yoke of slavery our country endured.

The Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12 was a mere 98 words, again a treasure of words irreplaceable by all the pictures in the world. Simple succinct, and powerful.

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven. 

Blessed are those who mourn: for they will be comforted. 

Blessed are the meek: for they will inherit the earth. 

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness: for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful: for they will be shown mercy. 

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they will see God. 

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they will be called children of God. 

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 

There are even single words that transpose all possible pictures.  The 'N' word comes immediately to my mind.  One single word that stores so much hurt, pain, innuendo, oppression, and anger. I myself would be glad to have that word eradicated from all vocabulary (sorry Mr. Twain!). 10000 pictures could not do justice to the impact of this single word on society.

We do have freedom of speech in this country. This blog is a perfect example. I love that right bestowed on my by our founding Fathers. Still, we must take responsibility for the words we choose to use.  What offends other people is real to them and does have consequences. With the freedom of speech we also need to think of the consequences of what issues from our lips.

1000 words, 1000 Pictures.  In a Web enabled world both are accumulated at a rate never before seen. Some pictures are not even worth the digital bytes they inhabit.  The website 'The People Of Walmart" is an example of this. Shameless. 99% of Web content is of this nature. And a lot of printed words are of the same value.  I have to think of the Twilight Saga as an example.  It is hard to believe that series chewed up as much attention as it did.

Every time someone posts a 'true story' on 'Facebook' my critical antennae rise like Ray Walston on My Favorite Martian. I find that I doubt every fact posted. Many of the 'facts' posted can be quickly discounted if you go to a site like snopes.com.  It amazes me that my antennae are so attuned, until I realize that I may be missing 50% of the ones that don't tickle my probes. It also amazes me that people repost these suspect facts without checking.

We do have freedom of speech in this country. This blog is a perfect example. I love that right bestowed on my by our founding Fathers. Still, we must take responsibility for the words we choose to use.  What offends other people is real to them and does have consequences. With the freedom of speech we also need to think of the consequences of what issues from our lips or posts online.

My personal preference is to not offend. And I feel it is important to express that I know my opinions are not 'facts'. My observations are not gospel. And I have a responsibility to check my facts before I profligate them.  I am responsible for my 1000 pictures and 1000 words, and so are you.

Cheers, nca

Anatomy Of A Disease

Speaking of Zombie Apocalypse....I want to go on record to state that the Zombie disease as portrayed on most of the modern Zombie movies is best classified as an eating disorder.  Perhaps the eating disorder is combined with Alzheimer's and leprosy, but the primary classification would still be an eating disorder.

As played in most of the modern TV shows and popular movies, the zombie apocalypse is preceded by some type of escape of a military grade virus into the general populace. This is some type of man-made virus.  So exactly which Government entity decided to mix leprosy, Alzheimer's, and eating disorders upon the general public is pretty much a mystery. My thinking is that it was not Government at all, it would have to be Monsanto or Foster Farms or another one of the big food processing companies.  They would be the entities most likely benefiting by a bunch of insatiably hungry and brain dead immortals. Think of the profit margin generated!  Beasts who must eat non-stop, but can not digest what they eat, and have no memory or brain function to curb their desires.

As an eating disorder, one can't stop feeling a bit sorry for the zombies.  They have no capability to withstand their addiction. They can not die without a critical blow to the cranium. There digestion track is shot. One thing never depicted in the movies is the huge zombie excrement problem that must be generated by all the half digested meat they consume.  Zombie crap every where festering. "Lift up the seat", "don't forget to flush"....all those learned behaviors are thrown out the window. Now it's a life of endless kill, eat, crap, and kill again. The endless cycle, the depravity.

Not to mention, these creatures are living in a world much like a Salton sea. Water water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. Their Salton land is filled with other zombies, none of whom are digestible. Their disease prevents them from turning upon their mates for satisfying their unsalable urges. It is only fresh, uninfected meat that they must have.  Like they are on the Atkins or Paleo diet or some such thing. Poor creatures!

These programs never show what would happen to a zombie dining on zombie meat.  You would think some scientist or crackpot would have thought of this on the shows.  Dress some captured zombies up as mortals, spray them with fresh meat smell, and release them into the general zombie community like a Trojan horse.  What exactly happens when zombies dine on other zombies. Is there a zombie code that prevents this? Could it start a chain reaction, or a Zombie Zombie apocalypse.

Still, it all goes back to Foster Farms and Monsanto.  How did they intend to profit from the mess they made. It is obvious, they can make food products now without any government oversight, using any fresh meat source,  and no middlemen.  Pure profit.  But it's not like they can go back and charge the zombies for food once the live humans run out.  The zombies don't have Paypal or any other means to purchase from Monsanto after the last live human has gone. But rest assured, these companies must have thought this out and have an angle somewhere.  Some warehouse is sitting out there full of Zombie Soylent Products that are going to make someone somewhere very very rich. As they say, follow the money.

Cheers, nca

Don't Forget the Yellow Duck

I am contemplating on the two Tabasco bottles before me on my breakfast table.  The mild green Tabasco had a best by date of 2015, and a batch creation date in 2014.  Roughly, the life span suggested was about 18 months.

The traditional Tabasco bottle had a best by date of 2018.  This one also had a batch creation date of 2014. The traditional Tabasco could outlive the mild by about 2 years.

This is not something to dwell upon.

But still I do.

Why would the traditional  Tabasco be able to outlive the mild green by 2 years minimum?  I thought the meek were to inherit the earth?  Yet the hot stuff will outlive the mild by 200%.

So, what makes up the difference?  Ingredients?  The Traditional contained vinegar, red peppers, and salt.

Huh, this is what I insist on putting on my eggs? Really? Somehow I thought there was more to Tabasco.

But I digress.

The mild green had....hmm.... vinegar, jalapenos, preservatives, and salt. Preservatives, you fail me! Jalapenos? You guys have a shorter lifespan than red peppers? What's the deal?

At the current pace I use Tabasco....those bottles are going to vastly exceed the best by date by years.  I put maybe 4 drops on my omelette per use, tops. Well, ok....shed a couple of drops on my hash browns too. Still, at 5 ounces.....these bottles are going to outlive  the best by date by a decade or two. A waste of sauce really.  Somebody at Tabasco should think about that....what is the point of selling a bottle of Tabasco that has no chance of being used before it's best by date?

I was sort of counting on Tabasco as being one of the go to condiments in case of a Zombie apocalypse. Think about it, there must be thousands of refrigerators in America with a bottle of Tabasco sitting there.  And really, Tabasco does not even need to be refrigerated, just stored in a cool dry place.  This beats the heck out of Ketchup and Mayonnaise, both of which would spoil in a post apocalypse refrigerator world.  Most definitely, it a zombie apocalypse your best bets for condiments are Soy Sauce, Mustard, and Tabasco. Be sure to have those on your looting list. The Tabasco will take you farther into the apocalypse though, since you only need a few drops.  It will help those Lima beans and creamed corn you loot go down smoother.  You must know that the stuff you will loot out of neighborhood pantries will be the odd weird stuff that no one really wants to eat. The same stuff you donate to can food drives. There is a reason why no one ever donates the good stuff, that all gets eaten first.

As you prepare the looting list, make sure it is traditional Tabasco and not the mild. The longer time before 'best by' is achieved would advocate for that.

Perhaps they should start adding a new designation to the labels.  Along with best by dates, perhaps we should include the date for last possible use date in a zombie apocalypse. I mean, who is going to care about 'best' in those dire times?

The one problem I can see with the Tabasco...it comes in glass bottles.  Is that really a good idea in times of apocalypse?  Note to self, loot list, substitute El Pato for Tabasco if there is a choice.  Don't go into a apocalypse without the yellow can with a duck.

Cheers, nca

Sounder

I have been searching for such a long long time. And, for the most part, very patient.

...and so I believed. Believe. And so I am to believe. Belief is something you never ever really get to see and touch and taste and smell and hear?

Seeker, Sounder. There must be something I missed.  A purpose. A person?  Something to live and to die for.

How do you know you found something that you don't even know you are looking for. Where is that Eureka moment when you realize, this is what I was looking for?

Not so much, 'which way?' should I go....but more 'where am I going and how will I know when I go there?'. 

I read something on the wall at the old Downtown Phoenix YMCA that made sense to me. Made sense at the time, and oft quoted:

It seems right to me.  But I know for sure, with conviction, that the more I learn and grow and mature, the less I know.  And my questions boil down to a rich, thick bubbly broth of ....


Cheers, I think. 
nca










.

The HitchHiker

Sometimes I feel that I am a Hitch Hiker through life.  Much like the thumb bound lad of my early 20's I just attach on for the ride. Never really knowing where I am going or who I will meet next.

My brother and I used to do some crazy things in our youths. One of those crazy things was we would drive around town and find houses where big parties were going on. We would park and just go in, uninvited. We would wander the party, meeting people and having a few drinks, then leave.

The uninvited guests. Hitch Hikers.

Facebook seems to be like that sometimes.  Odd hitch hikers send me a friend notice and there we are, officially 'friended' on FB.  They can then grasp little tidbits about my life, and I can learn snippets of theirs.

One thing about being a true hitch-hiker, as back in my youth....is I always had the 'story' prepared. Why was I on a road in Ohio, or Canada, or Phoenix?  My story would be ready. The same story I told each proceeding ride and each succeeding ride.  Little tidbits of me, nothing substantial. And they too, sometimes, would share. Little snippets.Nothing substantial.

One odd thing I take pleasure in....hooking up two people on FaceBook. Two people from my past. Dude who used to work at Sky-Y, or go to school with me at Phoenix College, meet a mutual friend you once knew too. CONNECTION.

Why I take joy in making these connections I am really not sure. Putting the puzzle pieces of my past together and making a pleasing picture. Is there logic to this, if I connect b to c, will I discover a?

As if I could find all the puzzle pieces, every connection lined up in time order starting with my earliest memories.  Putting all the hitch-hikers of my life in order one by one until I could make some sense of order out of this chaos of my life.

Sometimes I think there is a missing connection, missing puzzle piece out there somewhere. Something important I missed in this great progression.  Yes, I have my wife and my three beautiful daughters. And yes, of course my sweet grands. But was there something else, someone else? Something I missed? Was there one more connection I was supposed to make?

I keep searching.

Cheers, nca

Just Loafing Around....

American food establishments tend to trip all over each other copying new ideas in food.  The latest one I am seeing is all the chain restaurants offering 'Artisan Breads' and 'Artisan Style Sandwiches'.  What the heck is 'Artisan Bread'?

For some reason, when I think of 'Artisan Breads', my mind first wanders to the surrealists.   Like a Picasso BLT...

Somehow, just not making my mouth water.

I suppose  we could go to the Pop Art school, but the Warhol Patty Melt just seems so sterile and unappetizing. 

Impressionist PB&J may sound interesting, but I have to be able to trust the hands that put it together....did you wash your hands Toulouse before you spread the jelly? That open sour on the side of  your head looks nasty.

Maybe I am a bit more old fashioned, The Dutch Masters do put together a good loaf....but we need a little flavor here dudes? 

I thought about going back to the prehistoric artisans who really seemed to know how to hunt down a good Club Sandwich...

I dunno....maybe I can do without the artisan bread.  I don't know what Ciabatta even means.  A Baguette sounds a bit like some kind of feminine product. Not sure I want that in my mouth. A Brioche sounds like the thing you pin on your Grandma's bosom, but not something you actually want to eat.  I think I am ok with just some old fashioned toasted white bread...thank you very much. 

When you hear the toaster pop, can you pass me some of that gourmet designer mayo and mustard please? 

Cheers, nca....

Super Ate

What is in the current obsession with...

The media is saturated with the adjective.  Our nation is a 'Super-:Power'.  With the demise of the Soviet Union, we consider ourselves the only Super-Power, but we acknowledge there are a few demi-Super-Powers out there.  We have Super-Models, superior for fine genes and the ability to face burning penetrating light and photo-shop wizards.  Our meals can be Super-Sized, which just means our culture can eat ourselves into oblivion and type-two diabetes faster.

The real knock for me is when I want to go to a movie with my wife.  My choices are pretty limited. The chief rival for real adult themed movies is....Super Hero movies.

We Americans can't seem to get enough of this stuff.   It is CGI drivel on steroids. Marvel and DC Comics have taken over our theaters.  While in Washington D.C. the Conservative Religious Right is trying to legislate our bedroom lives, Marvel is selling us  outrageous muscles and men in tights and capes. Talking about a mixed message. Do we American's really feel the need for magically enhancing our 'powers' like we now feel we must surgically enhance our bodies?

Now, let me confess....I had an obsession with Marvel comics too in my day. Like, when I was 13.  And I nursed fascinations with Harry Potter and LOTR  franchises also.  I 'get' it to some degree, and there is definitely and audience for that type of thing.

But Hollywood....please don't forget that there are some of out there that want a good adult romance, or mystery, or thriller too.  Some of us adults in the target population really do like fine acting, great dialogue, and thoughtful plot (and plot twists!!) too.  And please, I like to take my spouse to a movie once in a while...throw us a bone.

Cheers, nca

P.S. Some of my favorites? How about 'The Artist'?  "Saving Private Ryan" had the best all action scene at the end probably EVER!  And that does not even count the opening scene which is the best D-Day depiction ever filmed.  "The King's Speech" had terrific acting all around.  For a really good thriller, how about 2010 "Frozen".  For Quentin at his finest, what about 'Reservoir Dogs" or 'Jackie Brown"?  For a great foreign language film...how about "Wadhda"?  And if you have to have Fantasy Epics....go back to the original LOTR trilogy...not the CGI ruined "Hobbit" over-production.

What are some of your favorites? And how do you feel about Super-Hero Movies?

LONG LIVE MY CODE

OK, nerd alert...nerd post...

OK, just so you know....I love the Language of COBOL. I love it's elegant simplicity, it's format and it's structure. I love EVALUATE and PERFORM and INSPECT.  I love pretty code all lined up. I love the solid Courier TYPEFACE in my TSO EDIT page. I love substrings and SEARCH and EXEC SQL.   I love paragraphs with single functions and one simple period at the end of the paragraph.  EXIT.

I have been coding programs in COBOL since 1994 and I still do today every chance I get.

I realize this makes me a nerd. I also realize this dates me with all other modern IT nerds who prefer JAVA and PERL and C++ and all the other 'inferior' languages.  I am ok with that.  

There is something so basic and primal about beautifly structured COBOL. When all the code is lined up, where every sentence in the program is well thought out, where every error and exception is handled efficiently. I love to see CODE that is KISS (Keep It Simple Stupid) validated and pleasing to the eye and every function is balanced...no more code and no less code then is efficient to perform the objective of the program. I admire IF statements with no nasty NOT, everything positively stated and structured.

The beauty of a well designed array is beyond lovely. Well thought out variable names are as beautiful as perfectly rhymed and metered poetry.

I love to see my name in the flowerbox of a well designed COBOL program. It is lasting and eternal. I will be long gone from this mortal coil and  some elegant COBOL module that I created will still be executing on some box somewhere. I just know it will.

PERFORM UNTIL

Cheers, nca.

This about sums it up

It was the donated book sales at the Gilbert library. The book looked interesting, thin with a artistic pencil drawn dust jacket. And the book was about libraries. I love libraries, I always have. I met my wife at a library. I worked there, as did she. Definitely worth a closer look, that thin square book.

There was an inscription on the inside. Sometimes I think inscriptions are cool. Inscribed by the author, it can be really cool. But sometimes just a message to the recipient, maybe a gift.

Oh wait, that makes me feel a little sad. Maybe not 'always', hey Granmom...? 

Cheers, nca

Strike While The Irony Is Hot

Yesterday I cruised around the neighborhood of my youth. I was surprised to see signs posted for "Loma Linda Historic District".

The home of my youth is now considered to be in a historic district! Originally built out around the time my older brother was born, now it is 'historic'. They call it Mid-Century, Leave it to 20th Century Americans to label the time period that way, as if anything outside of the 20th century is irrelevant. What will happen in 2050? Perhaps they should label the period Kennedian! Bazinga! (How many kids named John or John F were born during and after the 60's? :) )  The Phoenix nesting spot that formulated my youth is now considered ''historic" enough to be labeled with a name.

The irony is not lost on me. I, similar to my 'hood, am now a relic!

This was not the only irony I faced yesterday while driving through the scenery of my youth.

On the corner of 24th and Indian School there used to be a small pharmacy. The old fashioned kind of pharmacy that actually had a small soda fountain/diner area inside. I remember by best bud used to take the pharmacy the checks he received from mowing lawns. The cashiers would cash the checks for him , which even then I thought was odd....I always cashed my checks at a bank.  I think he got in that habit because his dad was a Phoenix cop who would hang out with his friends at the diner area during slow times on the force.  Anyway, the pharmacy is no longer there,  it has been replaced by, of all things, a check cashing service. Bazinga.

Across the street was the old Tang's Market. That same buddy used to work at the market when we were in High School.  The market is gone, replaced by various strip stores. Included in the strip stores is Tang Realty. Bazinga.

Nearer to my house, the old Indian Trading Post is now a gun store. That seems more poetic justice than straight irony. "The Indians have  been chased off the site by guns".  But still.....  I loved that old Indian Trading Post. They had a Cigar Store Indian outside that was just too cool for us. Inside they had trinkets, baskets, Turquoise Jewelry, old Navajo rugs. There were arrowheads and other antiques. I did not expect the store to still be there at that same location....but somehow the Gun Store has a bit less charm.

 I had to snap this photo of the J* house on the corner of Amelia and 18th. The J* brothers were 'too cool for school' back then.  During my High School years they would have a Funny Car and a Rail parked here. Now the sign says 'No Parking'. Bazinga.  The J* brothers were friends of my oldest brother. I was too young to hang with that cool group, but sometimes I would get to hang out when they fired up one of those big powerful engines, flames firing out of the exhaust pipes. The smell of nitro burning and singeing my nostrils was exhilarating. I can still see and smell it today, 45 years later.

Across the street from the J* house used to be a big field guarded by huge pine trees. It was the old Trader Joe's abandoned horse corrals. We used to climb from tree to tree, where there were little forts and nooks hidden within the boughs. Older kids would smoke and make-out and get high...but my brothers and I would just find adventure and minor trouble.  The owner and neighbors would have loved to chased us off with guns to keep us out of there. Now, the lot is used as parking for the gun store. Bazinga.

Odd, I could not wait to get out of that old neighborhood once I became 'of age'. The house and neigbhorhood felt confined and old even then. Some hard memories of growing up in a tiny house on Amelia has long haunted me. It was not all fun and games, though we found our own adventures with friends and siblings.  At one time I dreamed about buying up our old house and burning it down,  leaving the lot as a park for the locals. But now, I think I have finally come to peace with those feelings.  After all, that old house, in that old neighborhood is Historic. Mid-Century Modern. Like me. Bazinga.


Cheers, nca.

P.S. All my brothers and sisters (there were 8 of us total) have moved out of the area, save me. To this day it seems odd that I alone represent our clan in Phoenix.  Bazinga.

Bucks Stops On A Dime

I am Uncle Buck.

Have you ever seen the John Candy film, 'Uncle Buck'?   If you have not, it is dated now, but pretty funny all the same. The John Candy character 'Uncle Buck' is now officially me. If you see the scene where he drives up to the High School in his smoking, out of tune, beat up 1975 Mercury Marquis Brougham Coupe, then you might understand what I am talking about..

Uncle Buck's niece Tia is mortified as Buck pulls up to the school. Which is not too unlike the feeling anyone driving near or with me must feel.  I recently started driving an old 1984 Buick Skylark that was once owned my by Mother in Law. It does not smoke and misfire, but it does have some other traits that put it right up with the Buck-Mobile. The engine makes a sort of clicking sound as if it needs a valve job.   Both headlights are bashed in (still working but crushed).  There is a heating knob and a radio knob missing, you have to use a pair of pliers to adjust either. Some of the windows don't roll up or down. Several warning lights are on full time. The interior is worn and messy, and there are old people add-ons like a steering wheel cover, seat covers etc.  Someone has put a sticker on the back of the Car that says 'My other Car runs on Fairy Dust'.

A few weeks back my wife asked me to stop by the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for the dog. So one way home from work, I pulled into the local Walgreen's and went through the drive-through in my warn out old 'Uncle Buck' jalopy.  The motor was a clicking and a clacking. I told the clerk I was picking up some medicine, and he asked me the name of the patient. I said 'Samantha Adler' (my dog is named Samantha). The clerk clicked away at their computer and asked me "Sam's" birth date.  Dumbfounded, I told the clerk I would have to call my wife. Sitting their, reving up the car to keep it from stalling, I had to dial my wife and ask her Sam's birthday. The clerk was eyeing me as if I were an alien creature. With the birth date in hand, I was able to obtain the doggy pills. Wonderful. She was eyeing me suspiciously as I pulled away...flashing her my Fairy Dust dreams.

I've grown kind of fond of the pasty old wreck. My pride is now tweaked, and I have so far refused my wife's pleas to find something a bit newer to drive.  I refuse to lose the old clunker.

Cheers....nca

P.S. The niece, Tia...always reminded me of my middle daughter. The loser look she gives Uncle Buck with those expressive eyebrows I have seen myself many times.  And not for lack of any deserving on my part.  I used to tell my daughters that embarrassing them in public was a Father's prerogative.  :)