We All Scream

Last night I decided the conditions were right for me to go for a little run, which means there was no one in the neighborhood that was out and about, meaning there was no one to thrust a beer, cigar or any other legal implement of destruction in my hand. Who knows, maybe I was inspired by the Olympics. One other thing I should note is that I describe the run as "little." I almost used the adjective "quick", but truth be told there wasn't anything quick about it.

I decided to use the running method highlighted in the best selling book, "Born to Run" by Christopher McDougall which suggests that runners should run on the balls of their feet or their toes, especially when going long distances. Considering my mini marathon would take me on a trek in excess of two...yes two, miles I figured I'd employ the toe running thing. The reality of it is, if you ask anyone that I grew up with, they'd tell you that my brothers and I walked on our toes anyway, so no real risk.

I ran at a slow pace and pranced through the streets of Dover like a big over sized, bald gazelle, and my legs felt great, but I started to experience a little discomfort in my chest. The mild burning worried me for a second especially when I remembered that said author Christopher McDougall had died on a run, but I was quickly comforted by a more recent memory. This memory was of myself just minutes before my run, standing in front of an open refrigerator eating 3 or 4 slices of cheap bologna bathed in cheap yellow mustard. Was that mustard or retard?

I pressed on, and with no music to inspire or distract me I skipped closer to home. I ran down a side street and took a right just as an ice cream truck took a left onto my street.  I ran into my neighborhood which was now occupied by friends and neighbors who watched what appeared to be yours truly chasing the Ice Cream man. The sad thing is no one thought this remarkable.

Diner

There's a little diner that sits in the shadow of Plymouth State University where my daughter is attending college this fall, (shameless proud father plug, thank you very much.)  The diner is one of those classic places with a long counter, anchored stools, heavy white coffee mugs and a sign that boasts booth service.

My daughter and I were attending the second day of Plymouth State's orientation, and with a little salesmanship I persuaded Vanessa to abandon breakfast at the cafeteria to try out the greasy spoon. Upon telling Deb this, she was less than pleased that I was already conditioning our little one to skip things.

The diner was fairly quiet with only a handful folks of drinking coffee, reading the morning paper and chatting about the news of the day. Vanessa and I sat and were doing the same when she asked me why I liked these types of places. I told her that they were usually an anchor of small town life where people gathered. I told her that you can get a sense of the community and by talking with people you can learn just about everything that is going on, from the recent scandal,  local politics and little league scores.

We ordered breakfast and were talking about Vanessa's upcoming adventure when Neil Young's "After the Gold Rush" began playing on the radio. Without prompt or acknowledgement the waitress started quietly singing the verses to herself, as did the gentleman sitting at the counter. The couple a few booths down from us were each contributing with one quietly singing the few select words he knew while his companion only hummed along. Admittedly, I was quietly doing my best falsetto as I was all in a dream, all in a dream.

It only lasted a few seconds, but it was a great spontaneous demonstration of my point. A brief moment in time that was pure, nostalgic and simple, just like the diner.

Eye Can't Believe This Stuff Happens to Me.

I have a nice little image for you to start you day with. Last week I developed an eye issue. My eyes were more swollen and baggy than my usual "Sicilian curse" look. Initially, Deb thought the swelling could be alleviated by the fashion/home remedy of putting sliced cucumbers on my eye lids. I no sooner laid down with the cukes on my eyes, when one of our dogs came over, sniffed me and ate one of them off of my face.




Eventually, I had to go to the ophthamologist who prescribed two separate eye drops. One was thin and clear, but the other was a cloudy white thick goop. The next day I had to fly to NYC on business. I was running late all morning and barely got to the gate before my flight. I thought it important to put the drops in before I got on the plance. I grabbed a seat in the open and crowded terminal, leaned my head back and put it in the clear drops with no issue, but the thick white crap wouldn't go in. I either kept missing or it would get caught up on my eye lashes. As a hundred or so people were lined up to board the flight I was sitting in front of them with this white syrup running down my face and not a napkin in sight.



Can't wait to read the comments on this one. By the way, my eye is better. Thansk so much for your concern.

Don't Stare Into the Sun

Okay, I only have a few minutes to write this, but it's still making me chuckle.


There's this guy I see at the gym all of the time. Actually, it's probably more accurate to say that I see him there the occassional times I go to the gym, but that's beside the point.

He's a pretty big guy, and he's pretty cool, friendly and funny. The other day I turned into the Men's locker room to see him standing there "buck naked" and a good forty pounds lighter than the last time I saw him. Being the nice guy I am, I instinctively almost blurted out to this unclothed, full frontal dude, "Wow! You look amazing!" It was right there on the tip of my tongue, but thank God I caught myself.

Look, there's nothing wrong in one guy complimenting another guy, but when it comes to the locker room, whether someone is improving, has something in their teeth or they inadverntenly leave their zipper down, they're on their own. You didn't see nothin...

A Different Kind of Night

We have always welcomed people over

but this was a different kind of night

We sat around the large square table

and passed crisp greens and freshly made pasta

The smell of slow cooked garlic steeped in oil wafed throughout the warm house

Much like it has many times before

but this was a different kind of night

Dinner ended and the empty plates remained but the warm red wine continued to flow

as did the words of the poets who had brought us together

We shared the words of newly discovered friends

And read aloud Bukowski, Collins, Oliver and Kooser

but not before we "Howled" with Allen

We each took a page and read with our own little spin

No one being perfect with a slight stumble, stammer and mistep

but it was honest and we all rode together

transcended through each verse, line and stansa

It was a different kind of night

And Deb asked what it meant

And Claude said that it didn't matter

And it didn't.

Rush Hour

I took a drive yesterday, and as I usually do I flipped through the different radio channels in search of new sonic adventures. I’m a button pusher by nature so I quickly drifted past the top 40 stations and made my way through the lower number and left side of the dial where a lot of the independents, college stations and talk radio reside. I landed on a station that was broadcasting Rush Limbaugh. My father in law is a big fan so I figured I’d give a quick listen in the hopes of understanding their perspective.


I only listened for a few minutes, but those minutes were filled with Rush’s theory that all people who subscribe to and purchase organic food are liberals. This didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, but I continued to listen as he politicized organic heads of lettuce and free range chickens. He went on to say that Adolph Hitler was a vegetarian which gave me an immediate vision of Old Adolph meticulously arranging his asparagus spears in the shape of a Swastika.

Overall, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I know there are a lot of people who dislike Rush’s politics, but I found him inspiring. I took that inspiration and got an organic salad.