Friday Night Video

I have no funny memories regarding tonight's movie clip. I'm posting it for two reasons. First, because Harold Ramis passed away this week and this was his movie, or one of them anyway. I didn’t know much him, but I liked him in everything I say him in. He seemed like a good guy.

Secondly, it happens to be one of my favorite movies. This is kind of out of “type” for me, but hey, you like what you like. I have it listed over in my profile. Coincidentally, I looked at my profile for the first time in about three years this past weekend, before Mr. Ramis had passed away, and I noticed that I had this movies listed twice. Weird. I guess it was appropriate, but I fixed it just the same.

Here you are...

Friday Night Video

Tonight, we continue with what is now becoming a semi-annual event- this being our highly acclaimed, Friday Night Video series!

Like usual, we have a clip that will be meaningless to just about everybody- everybody except me and whoever took this video. This is a clip of the commuter train that runs through my old home town. It brings back memories for two main reasons.

The first reason is because Dad took this train line into Boston and back everyday for work. This particular station happens to be in the center of town, while the one Dad got on and off at was at the other end of town- about a mile or so from where we lived. In the good weather, Dad would often walk home from the station and sometimes, during summer vacation, I might meet him part way. Other times, I might go along with Mom when she would pick him up in the Jeepster.

Once a year or so, Dad would take me into Boston with him. When Dad would take my brother into Boston, it would be to see a baseball game. But when it came to me and sports, Dad knew he might as well just set his money on fire. Except for getting hot dogs, it would accomplish the same thing.

Instead, I got to go to work with him. I don’t remember a whole lot about his work, other than I would get a lovely selection of lollipops from his secretary and we would visit a toy store- but all of it made me feel pretty important.

I especially remember riding the train, and it felt like a huge adventure. I’m not quite sure why that was. It really wasn’t a whole lot different than riding along in the car with him. Maybe it was because I didn’t have to do it everyday, or maybe it reminded me of our trips to North Carolina. Whatever the reason, trains still hold a lot of fondness for me.

The other thing about this video is that it goes by the place where I had one of my all time worst summer jobs. It’s over on the left-hand side in this video- coincidentally about where all the newspaper machines are. I’m not sure what it is today, but when I was in high school, it was the newspaper distributor for the town. My job was twofold.

The first part of my job took place on Saturdays. My friend and I had task of putting together the Sunday papers for the entire town. I’m not sure how big the town was back then, but judging from the amount of newspapers, I’m guessing it was around a million people or so- give or take.

The way this job worked was that the Sunday papers would come in in two different halves. The first half would arrive in the middle of the week, the second half would arrive on Saturday. The first half  consisted of anything that wasn’t “news” related- things like the Living section, the Garden section, the funnies and, most importantly, the advertisements.

I was told that I was in no way to look at these ads ahead of time. Apparently this would give me some unfair advantage over the rest of civilization. I couldn’t have cared less, but the two guys that worked there full-time (i.e.: "lifers") treated this like it would be a capital crime.

Anyway, the news sections would be printed later in the week- to stay as current as possible. The News half of the paper would arrive about midday on Saturday and it was me and my friend’s job to put these two halves together- for each and every Sunday paper in town. This was a multi-step process that only the sharpest of minds could grasp. It consisted of standing at a bench and taking a Non-News newspaper section, unfolding it, sliding in a News newspaper section, closing it, and then stacking it between some large wire racks on top of the bench. That was it. Open. Insert. Close. Stack. Open. Insert. Close. Stack. Over and over, all day long. All. Day. Long. Thousands of papers. When I was was done, the stacks were taller than me. What made this job even worse was that half the time my friend would leave early and the other half of the time, he wouldn’t show up at all.

This was only Part One of my summer career. Part Two took place every weekday- starting at about 4:30 AM. I was one of a select crew of top notch talent whose job it was to deliver bundles of newspapers to the kids who had morning paper routes. I would arrive at the distributor and load up my car (technically Mom and Dad’s car), with bundles of newspapers, squeeze myself in as best I could, and drop these bundles off at various street corners around town, where the newspaper boys (and presumably, girls) would pick them up, bundle them individually and deliver them. This sounds sweet enough, but wait- there's more! Due to the fact that it was summertime, some of these newspaper boys (or girls... no letters, please) felt they deserved a vacation and therefore, it was left to me to cover for these slackers. This was in addition to my bundle deliveries.

The thing about these individual paper deliveries is that you would always come in the next morning and hear about complaints from certain whining customers. “I couldn’t find my paper.”, they’d say. Or they would complain that it was too close to the road, or that it wasn’t on their porch, or the ink wasn’t dry, or it had mud on it. I had one customer who made it their summer long goal to torment me. No matter where I left their paper, they wanted it somewhere else. For most customers, I could wing their newspaper out my car window as I sped along. Not this person. Every morning, I had to stop, get out of the car, and put it somewhere different. And the following day, I would always come in to be greeted by yet another complaint from them.

Getting out of the car and figuring out where to leave this person's paper every morning was made even more fun by their neighborhood German shepherd that had taken a liking to chasing both me and my car- every single morning.

As summer came to an end, I had had just about enough of this job- and of this customer. On the last day of my route, I stuffed some dog biscuits into my pockets before leaving home. Then, I picked up and delivered all of my bundles and papers- saving their paper for last. When I got to their house, I got out of the car, plied the snarling German shepherd with dog biscuits and I put the newspaper under my rear tire. Then I peeled out on it.

The result was even more effective because the street was all dug up from road work, so it was nothing but rocks and dirt... and now, shards of newspaper. I took what was left of the mangled wad and stuffed in between the front door and their storm door- just as they had requested.

I never went back to get my last paycheck. It wasn’t worth it. The money wasn't worth ruining my fantasy.

The camera slowly makes it's way up toward the front steps of the long forgotten house. On either side of the walkway we see the unattended yard is overgrown with waist-high weeds. We knock at the door, but no one answers. Our knock pushes the door slightly ajar. Carefully, the camera makes it’s way through the old decaying front entrance. Nothing but darkness. As the camera pans through the darkened abyss, we make out vague shapes of cobwebs that drape the room like fauna in some nightmare jungle. Dust hangs in the thick, musty air. An occasional glint of light barely flickers through moth eaten curtains that were drawn long ago. Over in the corner we see what appears to be a small table and next to it, what might be an overstuffed chair. As the camera slowly moves forward, we make out the shape of an old telephone sitting on the table, and inches away... something else. We draw closer. As our eyes strain to focus, we realize that the shape next to the telephone is an atrophied hand- fingers outstretched, reaching in vain for a phone that sits undisturbed. For a moment, the camera pauses- then it gradually pans across the blackened hand, following the skeletal arm up until, barely visible in the thin beam of grey light that filters through the dust, it reveals the face of a mummified corpse. The camera lingers on a face twisted with years old rage. Several seconds pass. Finally, the camera slowly pulls back into the darkness and as it pans down to the hollowed out remains of a lap, there, among the decayed remnants of ragged clothing, lay scattered teeth that long ago dropped out of the corpse's gaping maw. Between the sprinkling of molars we see the other hand- still tightly clenching... an Old. Tattered. Newspaper.

That, at least, is how I choose to imagine it. And for me, that’s pretty much worth that last paycheck.

So, there you have it. When you look at this video, you probably see a train leaving a station. I, on the other hand, see the good, the bad, and the sweet, sweet revenge.

Enjoy.

P.S. I have no idea why the video starts off with a jet overhead. Ignore it.

Looking on the Bright Side

After three large show falls in just over a week, I, like most everyone else, am sick of it. From a conversation over the weekend, after the last snow:

Me (looking out the window): "Well Sam, it looks like we're going to get more snow."
Sam (Behind me on the couch, playing his game): (silence)
Me: "Yup, that's what they're saying!"
Sam: (silence)
Me: "Can't you hardly wait?"
Sam: (long pause) "...I guess."
Me: "Oh Boy! Looks like more shoveling!"
Sam: (after another long pause) "...Well, at least it builds character."

Cooking With Sam

Sam helped me decorate the cake. Somewhere under the sprinkles is chocolate frosting.

Twenty-Six Years Ago

As I look out of the window, the snow is coming down. We already have plenty of snow on the ground and this storm is supposed to bring plenty more. They’re predicting a blizzard for today and it’s supposed to last well into the night- possibly into tomorrow. It was like this twenty-six years ago, almost to the day. If this were here yesterday, then it would be right on the money.

Twenty-six years ago, we lived in a second floor walk-up apartment with a large horseshoe driveway, which was set behind a row of houses off of the main row. It was a Friday, and we were trying to come back home from a doctor’s appointment. Helaina had been due to be born two weeks earlier, but apparently was so comfortable, she had decided she wasn’t going anywhere. The Doctor had decided that Monday would be the day, whether Helaina agreed or not.

We made it back as far as the driveway, where the car got stuck in the deep, still blowing snow. Suzanne walked the rest of the way to the apartment, and I, with the help of a neighbor, managed to shovel the car out of the snow and make the rest of the way up the long driveway. I spent the remainder of the day shoveling- which was a good thing, since it helped me keep my mind off of Monday’s coming events. Almost.

I don’t know whether it was the long walk up to the apartment or the threat of Monday’s appointment, but at about two o’clock Saturday morning, Helaina felt that the time was right for her to finally make an appearance. Our driveway had been plowed by this point, and so had the roads. But the road plow had left a solid bank of snow at the foot of our driveway about waist high. I gunned the car and plowed ahead. Whether we made it through the snow or over it, I'm not sure, but either way, we were on the road- making the five hundred yard trip to the hospital.

I stayed at the hospital for a couple of hours before they sent me home. They told me it was going to be awhile, and they were right. I came back later that morning and by Saturday afternoon, at about 4:30, they decided they were taking Helaina by Cesarean. This had been unplanned to the point where the nurses didn’t have time to set up a tent to block my view. They brought me in and told me if I moved an inch off the stool, they would kick me out. They didn’t need to worry.

It was the strangest sensation to see Helaina appear out of the low ring of bloody towels and hear this strange little cry that broke the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the low murmur of the doctors’ chatter. The nurse wiped her off and brought her over to me with a reminder of “Don’t get off the chair, Dad.” And I didn’t, but this time, I had almost forgotten.

I remember the feeling when they handed her to me. It was like a revelation. I felt that I had been waiting for this little thing my whole life- and I never knew it until this moment.

Later on, I called Mom and Dad to give them the news. There had been bets in the family as to whether it was going to be a boy or a girl. I was pretty sure it was going to be a girl. It wasn’t like I had any inside information, it was only a guess. But the blue bassinet won out. When I called, Dad answered and I gave him the news. I remember saying, “... and she has a cute little round face.” And Dad said, “Oh, just like Suzanne.”

I left later that night and drove to Mom and Dad’s before heading home. They were both up in their bedroom in their PJ’s and both glad to see me. Dad gave me a pat on the back and ended up handing me a little windup toy of a couple of walking feet that happened to be on his bureau. I’m not sure why. I guess he felt he had to give me something.

The next day, I went to the hospital for an extended visit. I spent most of the day holding Helaina. I remember rocking her as I stood and looked out the window at the freshly fallen snow. The sky was crystal blue and the snow sparkled in the bright sun. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

Misc Updates

My poor, neglected blog. It’s not that I’ve been too busy to write, the problem is motivation. I have none. I think it’s worse than usual at this time of year. I think a lot of things are worse than usual this time of year. There’s more snow and less daylight than I would like, but, as Dad would say, at least the days are getting longer. So, with that said, and with all of the excitement of a family holiday newsletter,  here’s a little list of what’s been going on since we last got together…

My oldest cousin Richard passed away since I last wrote. I, along with Steve, Karen and Mom went to his wake. I hate going to those things- mostly because I have nothing to offer in the way of comfort.

I never saw much of Richard. When I was growing up, I saw him maybe once or twice a year- if he happened to be there on one of the visits to my grandparents house. In later years, I saw him even less. There’s a span of at least twenty years when I don’t think I saw him at all. He came to Dad’s funeral, and was able to come to a couple of our family get togethers. Other than that though, I didn’t really see him at all.

For years, I could never figure out exactly how we were related. I was told that he was my cousin, but this made no sense to me. He seemed more like an uncle to me, except he wasn’t. It turns out he was the oldest son of my aunt, who was the oldest of four kids in her family- my dad being the youngest. I’m not sure what the spread was between Dad and his sister, but this put Richard at a little over twenty-five years older than me. This, plus the fact that he had a different last name than just about everyone everyone else at my grandparents house was totally confusing.

He had a color TV way before we did. Way, way before we did. The only reason I know this is because my sister Karen babysat for him at least once. I remember hearing, way more than once, how much better “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color” was in actual color.

I always liked Richard in the way that I liked my Uncle George. They always had a smile. At family gatherings, either one of them would always acknowledge me, and ask a little bit about what was going on. And it was never done in a way that made me feel singled out or that put me in some kind of uncomfortable spotlight. This took some effort and toning down on their part, and I appreciated that.

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It’s tax time for me- and almost everyone else in this country. Unlike other years, I’m not getting anything back. It looks like I’ll be paying in- and fairly substantially, near as I can tell right now. So, that’s great news.

On the bright side, I don’t need to get the taxes done in order to fill out a FAFSA this year. This has to be the first time that’s been the case in seven or eight years- maybe more.

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It’s also IEP time, which I hate. I’ve mentioned the IEP process elsewhere in this blog. This year’s IEP review has been stretching on, basically since last May- though we did have a break through the summer. There are a lot of reason’s for this-almost all of them have to do with the usual reason of not wanting Sam to get screwed. It’s never easy and it’s never fun. This year I feel the added pressure of graduation, still off in the distance, but getting within sight. There’s a growing low level panic knowing that a deadline is on the horizon- no matter how far the horizon may be.

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We had to have a plumber come to the house the other day. Our kitchen faucet had been dripping for about the last two or three years- unless you placed the lever in exactly the right position. Over time, the field of error in finding this position was getting narrower and narrower and the lever was getting more and more wobbly- until last week, when it broke off entirely. This happened to be the night before a blizzard. Naturally, I had nobody but myself to blame for this- even though I tried. I should have planned for it to happen. But that’s not my way. My way is to be walking around the house with a hammer and a broken sink faucet in my hands the night before a blizzard, and acting surprised that this had to happen.

This was going to have to be fixed. It was obvious that despite my best salesmanship, Sam wasn’t going to live with a pair of vice grips clamped onto the naked faucet stem for a handle, and I have to admit, it would have been a little too “Ma & Pa Kettle”, even for me. So, knowing I finally had to bite the bullet and try to find a plumber, I yanked all the stuff out from under the sink- only to find pools of water. Apparently the drain had been leaking too, and for quite some time- judging by the swamp-like smell. All that were missing were the mosquitoes.

The plumber, whom Helaina had found for me through a co-worker, worked out great. I called him the next morning and he was over and done by later that afternoon. This, in spite of the blizzard.

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Speaking of the blizzard, my back is still killing me from shoveling the snow. I made a note to myself that I need to get in shape. I’ll stick the note with the other notes, once I remember where I put them.

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I have a post I’ve started, maybe a half a dozen times, on death and dying. I never get to the point of posting it. I think this is mostly for two reasons. First, if I were to post it, I fear my insurance company is going to point at it after I’m gone and say “See, we can’t give you your $150 (pre-tax) windfall because he was obviously planning it ahead of time”. I don't plan ahead for anything (see the faucet story above), but it’s one of those things that eventually happens regardless (also see the faucet story above). The other reason I don’t do anything with it is I don’t think it quite fits in here. Despite  the title “On Death and Dying”, it’s not actually funny. Maybe it will see the light of day at some point.

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Last Saturday, I drove Jake down to take something called GRE. This testing is apparently required by some schools if you want to go after more than a four year degree. Like so many other things regarding higher education, I knew nothing about it. I did learn a few things about it though.

I learned that if you’re going to take the test, you have to go through more security than at Fort Knox (or so I would imagine). I learned that you need a valid ID to take the test, and that a drivers license that had expired three weeks earlier is not considered a valid ID- even though it has your picture on it and there is no one else in the entire United States that has your name, and no, they will not take a student ID, a birth certificate or a Social Security card. I learned that even though the Registry is not open on Saturdays, you can renew your driver’s license at a AAA- as long as it’s before 1:00 and you’re a card carrying member. I learned that even though I am a card carrying member, it doesn’t cover Jake, and that if he wants to renew his license in the next twenty minutes before they close, he needs to be one- or I am out the testing fee.

So, I killed time at the over crowded mall and the over crowded Barnes and Noble and took a nap in the car, and Jake took the four and a half hour test. I ended up with a couple of discounted books and Jake got a AAA membership.

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Sam and I saw the Lego movie on Sunday. This was his idea, and I think this was the first time he ever broached an idea of doing something like this. Usually it’s me trying to drag him somewhere. I was pretty surprised by it. We went to the local theater and I had a good time. I noticed later that night, when he was on the computer, he was watching clips of the movie on Youtube. I felt pretty good about that. I think it meant he also had a good time.

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I find I’m missing the kids a lot lately. I think I always do, but I think it’s worse than usual at this time of year.

At least, that's the excuse I tell myself.