Friday Evening Video

There are three movies that I remember seeing with Dad when I was young. I’m not talking about movies where the whole family went together. I’m talking about the movies where it was just him and me.
One move was “2001- A Space Odyssey”. This is still one of my all time favorite movies, which Jake long ago labeled “The Most Boring Movie in the World” (as he has also done with several other movies that I like). Dad and I saw this movie when it first came out back in 1968.

Another movie we went to see, also in 1968, was the original “Planet of the Apes”.

A few years later, we saw a movie called “Cold Turkey”. Out of the three movies, I have no clear recollection of how we ended up going to see this one. Since it didn't involve space or science fiction, it was not exactly the type of movie that I would go to see, and I don’t remember Dad ever bringing it up either. I suspect it may have been for one of two reasons.

It’s possible that my brother Steve had gone to the movies with his friends and I was feeling left out. If I was moping around the house (one of my hobbies), normally (if that’s the right word for it), Steve would have been the one who was forced to spend some time with me. Sometimes this would include dragging me to a movie, sometimes this would include dumping sugar packets on my head as we walked the train tracks with Peter King. But that was when I was younger.

We were a little older at this point. By this time in our lives, Steve was popular and had a lot of friends. I was not and did not. And while both of us seemed to be more than fine with our different lifestyles, it did leave those occasional lulls where I didn’t know what to do with myself. Which leads me to the other possibility...

It's equally possible that I knew exactly what to do with myself- which would have meant picking on my little sister (another one of my hobbies). It’s not like she didn’t deserve it, having had the nerve to be born and all. But on those rare occasions when the others in the family didn’t find my "good-natured" teasing as entertaining as I did, it would have been the general consensus that I was the one that needed to get out of the house- even though there were two of us involved (a grudge I still hold today, by the way).

Most likely, it was some combination of these two.

So, this movie was a comedy about a town that entered a contest to quit smoking for thirty days. And, as I recall, it was pretty funny. It had a few swears and maybe one or two implied “adult situations” but they were minor and I doubt they would even be noticed by today's standards. Back then, those were the kinds of things I that would have laughed at hysterically if I was with a friend, but where I was with Dad, I remember feeling a little embarrassed. I think Dad sensed this because at one point, he looked at me to see how I was reacting. Most of the time though, he was too busy laughing.

Maybe it was his idea.

Friday Night Video

It's been a long time since I posted a Friday Night Video, so to make up for it, here's a very special musical number!

Enjoy!

A Day at the Fair

Speaking of the Fair, we managed to go again this year, but there was a spark missing. It wasn't just that our group was smaller- we were without Rachael and Jacob. And it wasn't just the weather- which was threatening to the point of having tornado warnings later that evening. No, the spark that was missing was the one in my car’s engine- which now sat in a parking lot a couple of towns over, having died on Jake the night before.

This, like the threatening weather, hung over me while we went to the fair. It weighed on me so much so that even the sight of the racing pigs would only lift my foul mood for a moment.

We walked the fairgrounds for a while, but the fair seemed more sparse than usual. This was partly because it was so early and partly because it was threatening to rain. It didn't help that there were vendors from past fairs that were missing- like the guy that sold rocks, who was pretty much the only vendor I would go to.

But even the displays seemed thinner than usual. We wandered through the buildings, avoiding the heating oils salesmen and the bathtub re-finishers and the “Choose Life” people and newspaper vendors- which basically means we avoided everyone. Once outside, we sat down with our usual tub of french fries. And even that felt more low key than usual.

Afterwards, we continued to wander down past the rides- and since it was still so early and it was still so sparse, many of the rides weren't running yet. Neither Sam nor Helaina seemed particularly keen to go on any rides anyway, so we stopped at the snack shacks on our way out. Sam opted for a pretzel this year, Helaina for a bag of cotton candy- a small bag.

After stopping at home, I went to get my car.

I found my car sitting in the farthest reaches of a parking lot, where Jake had left it the night before. I figured it wouldn't start, but I tried anyway and I wasn't disappointed. I turned the key and the engine cranked, but it wouldn't turn over. This is the extent of my ability to diagnose car problems, which I guess isn’t really diagnosing, it’s just describing. It is also almost verbatim what I told the AAA people when I called to get towed.

Unlike my experience earlier in the week, this tow truck outfit didn't arrive within ten minutes of my calling. This time it was close to an hour. And unlike my experience earlier in the week, this tow truck company didn't bring me straight to my mechanic. No, first this guy had to stop to get gas.

When we got to the gas station, the driver, for some reason, kept having to go in and out of the attached coffee shop several times before he was able to start pumping. I was getting the impression that his credit card wasn't clearing.

Twenty short minutes later, we- meaning Driver Dan (not his real name), the truck and my teeth, were rattling on down the road toward my mechanic’s garage- but not before we had to make yet another stop- this time at Driver Dan’s “headquarters”. It seemed his cell phone wasn't working and he needed to exchange it. Obviously this was of major importance and couldn't wait until after he dropped off both me and my car. And since it hadn't been quite two full hours since this whole adventure began, I was perfectly fine with it.

So it was another short wait- this time only ten minutes or so, then we were off once again to our final destination- my mechanic's garage- this time for real! As we pulled up, I mentioned for Driver Dan to stop, but he either didn't hear me or was ignoring me. Perhaps he was thinking about all of those texts he kept getting on his newly exchanged phone.

Driver Dan finally asked me where I wanted to leave my car and when I told him, he stopped and looked at me, slack jawed- with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. This surprised me for two reasons. First, it was exactly where I left the other car earlier in the week and the other guy had no problem with it.

But second and more importantly, I felt that after all of this time, Driver Dan and I had bonded in a some special way. Apparently I was wrong. Apparently this was one of those “one way” relationships where it’s fine for “someone” to take their sweet time to come and get me and then stop several times along the way to take care of their needs, but then when it comes to what I want, it’s some big problem. Why even ask me, Driver Dan? Why?

After what seemed like several minutes of stone cold silence, Driver Dan let out a loud sigh, which I know was supposed to be directed at me- and then he pulled what seemed like a ninety-eight point turn, which included at least one u-turn, and with several grunts, he situated the truck right in front of the garage. I wanted to point out to Driver Dan that this would have been right where we ended up if he stopped when I had told him to, but I felt that it would probably be counterproductive to mention it at this point.

Driver Dan off-loaded my car and helped me roll it in front of the garage door. Then, without so much as a goodbye, Driver Dan sped away, leaving me nothing more than a broken-down car and close to two full hours of fond memories.

That two hours, by the way, does not include the morning at the fair.

Time Marches On

The fair was in town the other day. It began as it always does- with a parade a few days before. Over the years, the parade has stretched longer and longer to the point where this year, it lasted about an hour and a half. Last year, it was close to this, but in years past, it managed to hold to a more reasonable hour or so.

I don’t think I would have as much of a problem with this if the kids were still little. Like so many things, including the fair itself, my enjoyment of it comes from a) being with the kids, and b) watching their excitement. But as this aspect has diminished over the years, so has my enjoyment of it. But even then, it seems to me that it stretches to a point of overstaying it's welcome.

The last few years, Sam has been the only one of the kids to regularly go to the parade. I have no problem with this at all, but I’m not sure whether he’s going because he wants to, or because he thinks it’s expected of him. Last year, we left before the parade even was over. It worked out pretty well as it allowed us to beat the traffic.

This year when I asked him he seemed eager to go, which surprised me, and so, we went.

We got there a little later than usual, due to my longer commute from work, but we managed to wedge ourselves in along our usual “spot”. And we waited.

Like usual, the parade started late. Not unreasonably late, considering all of which had to be coordinated, but late enough to question what was going on. After waiting a while, the flash of the police lights were spotted up the road, which signaled the start of the progression.

The first part of the parade is packed with floats of various themes and quality. Don’t picture folded paper flowers blanketing some indiscernible vehicle hidden beneath. Picture instead a flatbed pulling what is likely a hay truck in it’s day job. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course. In fact, I kind of like it. It’s part of the “charm” of living in a rural area. 

Some of these floats carry the elderly, some the very young. In each case there often seems to be one portion of the group that looks almost overly thrilled to be there, while the other portion looks like they might have been forced into it. There seems to be very little in between.

These floats are interspersed with politicians walking or driving along, waving like they’re glad to see all these people who came out just for them. I don't know most of these people, and that's the way I prefer it. I've never looked back on a parade and thought, "Boy, didn't that Selectman seem friendly?"

And there are marching bands. In years past, I might have recognized a face or two as they marched along. This year, I didn't even recognize the adults. Sam recognized a few kids from his school, so that was pretty good.

There were the usual Shriners squeezed into their little mini cars. These guys have been coming for as long as I can remember and it's usually a highlight- as it was this year. Every year it also gives me the chance to point out their yellow Jeepster and tell one of the kids how their Grandma had one just like it, except it wasn't yellow. This would often lead to me reminiscing about the pathetic windshield wipers or the plastic side windows or freezing by the heater on the way to or from school. This year, I managed to refrain from telling these stories. So far, there's been no indication from Sam on whether he's missed hearing theses stories or not. 

I noticed that some of the regulars were missing. I didn't see the street sweeper that followed along behind the horses with some sign about keeping our town clean- a long running joke for at least the previous twenty years or so. In fact, I don’t remember even seeing the horses. I assume that budget cuts are involved.

I also didn't see the usual clowns this year. There were always at least two clowns that you could count on. One was the “Clown for Jesus”. I don’t think that was his real name. This clown was affiliated with some alleged church and he would march along with a small group of people, presumably his congregation, waving and handing out stickers as he went. I never got a sticker from him. I assume he felt, correctly, that I was a waste of time.

The other missing clown was the one that protested the local nuclear power plant. This jolly fellow would stroll along and throw Atomic Fireballs at the crowd (Get it? "Atomic"?). Unlike the stickers, I usually managed to get hit by a few of those fireballs. 

I’m pretty sure Atomic Clown wasn't there because the local power plant is in the process of shutting down- thanks in no small part of his brave performances at years worth of these parades. I picture this clown now sitting inside his dingy living room, parked in an old, frayed recliner- the walls covered in yellowing anti-nuke posters. He sits in the dim light, squinting intently at a newspaper, looking for another worthy cause in need of a clown.

The parade has always had it’s share of advertising, and this year was no different. What was different was the amount of advertising. I guess every person and every float is, in it’s own way, some kind of advertisement. But at least with the floats and the people, and the bands, and even the now absent clowns, there’s always been an attempt to mix in an amount of entertainment.

What's happened over the years is that more and more heavy trucks have entered the mix. In years past, there would always be one or two large trucks rumbling along, float-less, occasionally blasting their horn, scaring the crap out of any little kid and me that happened to be nearby. But now, there’s a ton of them. In fact, I think that last third of the parade is nothing but a progression of trucks- heavy and otherwise. I’m not talking Monster Trucks or something weird. I’m talking gasoline tankers and milk tankers. I’m talking oil delivery trucks- the kind that go to your house. There’s even one or two soda delivery trucks mixed in. Why am I sitting there watching this? It’s become little more than watching heavy traffic slowly going by. They could cut a lot of this out and make the parade a lot more interesting.

So, this year, like last year, we got up and left as the trucks started to rumble by- just as the parade was presumably winding down. We weaved through the crowd, making our way back to the van, just in time to beat the traffic.

Old Friends

I’ve wanted to say something about the blood test Sam had a few weeks back, but it was pretty uneventful. Probably the biggest surprise to me was that the relief Sam felt was even more profound than I had expected. I knew there was some nervousness there but I didn't appreciate the depths of it. Unlike me, who would have let everyone know of my displeasure over the situation, Sam keeps things pretty much to himself. In the end, his relief was pretty evident. I've never seen someone walking on air, but Sam came as close as I've ever seen

Looking back on it all, I realized that outside of his regular check-ups, this was the first non-pediatrician appointment he’s had since the days of his MRIs and the follow-ups. Until the morning of the lab work, the full impact of it all kind of escaped me.

The lab was a “walk-in”, which meant first come, first served. As I think I mentioned here before, this also meant that I was putting off doing anything about it. But the end of summer and the beginning of school was on the horizon, so I figured I better get in gear.

I told Sam what I was planning and I wanted to give him some notice so he had time to digest the idea- but not too much time. I figured a week’s notice would be about right.

As I expected, Sam was not particularly happy about it, but also as I expected, he didn't complain. Instead, he spent the week asking the occasional question and developing that strained, almost grimace-like look on his face. This, in typical fashion, was accompanied by him whispering off and on to himself. At times he would sit on the couch, arms folded while he whispered, hoping he wasn't being noticed. At night, I would put him to bed and attempt to alternately encourage or comfort him- and I would see that look and see those lips moving and I would know what was on his mind.

So I knew he was worried, but I didn't appreciate how much until that morning. The morning of the lab, Sam came downstairs with Brownie. This used to be pretty common, but as Sam has gotten older, Brownie’s visits downstairs are pretty infrequent- infrequent, but not unheard of. What was really unusual was that when we left, Sam took Brownie in the car with him. That hadn't happened in many, many years.

I bought Brownie for Sam when Sam was about a year old. It was on one of our walks into town. Sam was still in a stroller.

Brownie in younger days.

I’m not sure what it is that makes kids latch onto certain stuffed animals over others- whether it’s the look or the feel or the smell. It’s probably some combination that just feels right to them. Helaina had her panda, Rachael has her red bear, and Jake, his Goodnight Moon bunny. All of these friends were, at one time or another, constant companions to each of the kids, and at times, their best friend.

I think about all of the raw and intimate emotions, both public and private, that these little pieces of foam and cloth have seen over the years- happiness and tears shared with nobody else but them. These friends that were always there for them, always listening, always comforting- sometimes when it felt like no one else was.

In Sam’s case, Brownie shared Sam’s hospital bed, and he was there for every follow-up doctor’s appointment. On evenings and weekends, he would come downstairs with Sam.

A typical Saturday morning.

Brownie would watch as Sam played video games or went on the computer. Brownie was there when he had his wisdom teeth pulled.

But both Brownie and Sam have gotten older and now Brownie spends most of his days upstairs in Sam’s room- though he still occupies a place of prominence in the sea of Sam’s other stuffed animals.

On this particular Friday, Brownie came in the car with us, and he waited in the car while Sam and I made the long, slow walk into the blood lab.

Christmas Eve

The small waiting room was crowded with an odd assortment of people- including some guy who looked to be in his twenties. He had greasy hair which was pulled back by a sweatband and he was wearing what looked like a velour ninja outfit. If this guy was trying to intimidate, it wasn't working. If he was trying to impress, he was doing a good job of it- though probably not in the way he intended. While Sam sat there with arms folded, and still whispering to himself, he kept nonchalantly glancing over at this guy. I wasn't quite sure what he was thinking, but at least it was a distraction.

After the wisdom teeth.

Eventually, Ninja Guy gets called into the office. Nobody in the waiting room moves their head, but all eyes follow him in. Five minutes later, he comes out and an older woman whom I had assumed to be another patient, gets up when he says, “Let’s go, Mom”. Now it was Sam’s turn.

 The clinician called Sam in and Sam jumped up and walked across the room. He stopped at the doorway and turned and looked over at me. I was still in my chair. Sam said, “Aren't you coming in, Dad?”. Sometimes it’s hard to know whether you’ll be more supportive by being involved or by being out of the way. I got up and went in with him.

We’re in the little room and the clinician had Sam sit down and he put the band around his arm and he tapped around looking for a vein. Unlike me whose veins are almost on the outside of the skin, Sam’s are way down deep. This has presented problems in the past. The guy continued to tap and Sam was asking questions and making comments. The guy was pretty good with him, but he talked too fast for Sam to absorb most of the answers- which was probably a good thing. Sam didn't catch the story about how when these clinicians were getting trained, they had to practice on each other and this guy was repeatedly get jabbed by someone else who insisted on plunging the needle all the way into his arm.

The clinician in turn, missed Sam’s story about how when Jake and I had both told him that it wouldn't hurt a lot, and that it would mostly feel like a strong pinch, Sam had been spending a good portion of the week pinching himself to try to get used to it.

I thought back on all of the whispering he had been doing and I realized that he wasn't just crossing his arms for comfort. While his arms were crossed, he had been pinching himself. It surprised me and at first, it made me a little bit sad to hear this. But with some distance, I've come to see it as being pretty clever. He found a way to prepare himself, and if he had told me what he was doing, I probably would have stopped him.

By this time, the clinician had switched to tapping Sam’s other arm. Finally finding something that was satisfactory, he told Sam, “Here we go…”. Sam turned away, and took a deep breath- so deep he looked like he was going to try and blow up the worlds biggest balloon. I had to tell Sam to take a breath. I was afraid he was going to pass out.

The clinician poked the needle into Sam and filled up two or three vials. After twenty seconds or so, he covered the needle with a gauze and slid the needle out of Sam’s arm. “You’re all set”, he said. “That’s it?”, Sam asked.

It was hard to keep up with Sam as we walked through the waiting room. He wasn't running really, it was more like skipping, more like walking on air. I followed Sam out the door and without turning around, he said to me, “Well what do you know Dad, you were right! That hardly hurt at all!”. This came as a surprise to both of us and we were both relieved.

Back in the car, Sam gave Brownie a few tosses in the air and we headed to the doughnut shop, which is how Sam chose to break his twelve hours of fasting.

At home, I hung around a little longer before I finally had to leave for work. Later, when I got back, I noticed Brownie was still downstairs. And when I put Sam to bed that night, Brownie was still at his side. Sam and I talked briefly about the day and I told him I was proud of him and I kissed him goodnight, shut off the light and left his room.

Walking across the hall into my room, I heard Sam’s whispering start again, and I hesitated. I stood there, trying not to make a sound as I strained to listen. After a few minutes I turned, but before I could take another step, I heard Sam’s whispering turn into a chuckle.

I didn't bother to interrupt.

Today's Update

It's September second and that means it's time for my regularly scheduled depression to start kicking in. Every year for the last I don't know how many years, the end of summer has been occupied with getting one or more of the kids ready to move away to college. This process usually started about the time they moved back in in the previous spring. After squeezing them and their stuff back into the house, I usually had a two to three week reprieve where I could kid myself into thinking that things were "back to normal", and I guess they were.

But "normal" has come to mean getting ready for them to leave again in the fall, or leave whenever, and that's always in the back of my mind. At least it is when it's not in the front of my mind.

Helaina, though still at home temporarily, has shifted off of her summer work schedule to her regular schedule. This means she leaves for work before I get home and gets back from work after I've gone to bed. We manage to somewhat synchronize our schedules on the weekend- sort of, but it's awfully quiet around here in the evenings.

Rachael has moved to The Big City, with various degrees of success (if you define success as being happy, which I do), but she's adjusting. I've said more than once that I wouldn't mind the city if it wasn't for the people. But she's more of a people person than me and better equipped to deal with things like that (i.e.: people). She was able to visit for the long weekend, which was great. But like all long weekends, they never feel long enough.

The focus on Jake has been getting him ready to move away for grad school. In some ways, this has offered a fair amount of diversification for me beyond my typical straight forward, "they're getting ready to leave" anxiety. My time has largely been spent trying to secure him a car for when he leaves, securing housing for when he gets down there, and wondering when the heck he's going to get his bill. Dealing with each of these has been met with varying degrees of success.

The housing was the first to get straightened out, or at least secured, when his now present landlord finally got back to him with paperwork to sign- a full week before Jake was needing to move in. Up until then, this had caused no end of frustration- for Jake in having to listen to me ask over and over if the guy had sent the paperwork. At one point I told Jake that he needed to have a Plan B in case this guy didn't come through. Plan B apparently came to mean that I would fanatically surf around for other places for him to live, while he played League of Legends online. But, as mentioned, the guy came through, and Jake once again proved that I was being alarmist for no good reason.

Getting the car should have been the first thing to get straightened out, since we started looking back at the end of May. He ended up buying one at the beginning of July which seemed like a pretty good deal at the time- but surprisingly, it wasn't. After several returns to the dealer for various issues, it made one final return to the dealer yesterday- on the back of a tow truck. At least it lasted long enough for Jake to move in to his new apartment, which is where he is now, with my car.

And the bill, well, I guess that's all set. Jake texted me last night about it and the mechanics of processing his payment. This continues to seem like too good of a deal to me and I'm left to wonder what the financial equivalent of a tow truck looks like.

And that leaves Sam- my sidekick... when he lets me. Tonight, he helped me make hamburgers, which I cooked on the grill, along with some pastrami I found in the back of the refrigerator. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Later, we'll go for a walk.

Sam's been going for a lot of walks lately. When it hasn't been with me, it's been with a job coach he worked with this summer- mostly working on how to safely cross the street. I was struck by this a couple of weeks ago when Jake had cleaned his room and found his old Driver's Ed book, which he gave to Sam, in case Sam wants to learn how to drive. Maybe someday it will be Sam's car on the back of a tow truck.

I find some comfort in that thought. It fits in neatly with my current depression.