Old Friends and New Stories

The phone was ringing in Florida.
I was hoping to hear a familiar voice, but was worried that maybe this was going to end badly.
Linda had been after me to call old pal John since we got our Christmas card to him returned "address unknown".  That's never a good sign when the recipient is in his late 70's.

John Lotz and I have been buds since our days together in Tampa radio.  He was the general manager of a new FM station when I was toiling in morning drive on the station across the hall.  He is fifteen years older than I, but we were like brothers almost from the start.  We played golf together, had many laughs over cocktails in broadcast dive bars; our wives and kids even liked each other.  Though we both went on to several other jobs that kept us thousands of miles apart, we always stayed in touch.  That's why I was worried when the Christmas card came back.

Then...he picked up the phone.  "K.C.!  How the hell are ya?"
Great!  He was alive.  He'd had a stroke this past year and had made an amazing recovery, but had not managed to get his usual amusing Christmas card in the mail.  The reason our card had been returned was because his daughters had insisted on him relocating to an assisted living facility so that he might have some help with his medication and other aspects of his recovery.  He and his late wife, Barbara, were blessed with a couple of remarkable girls who, in spite of busy lives and families of their own, look out for their dad.

I hear not a trace of stroke in his voice and John tells me that he has no problems with motion or anything other than keeping track of all the medicine he is required to take.  "The nurses are in charge of the pills.  I handle the swallowing."
God, it's so good to hear his voice.  The world spins in greased grooves once again.

We talk for a long time.  Somewhere toward the end of our conversation John asks me if I remember Danny Hamm.  truthfully I tell him that I recall only hearing about this guy.  "Wasn't he a drinking buddy when you were running KWK in St. Louis?"

"Yep, that's the guy."
He continues to tell me that Danny Hamm married his secretary, Debbie, back in the late 60's after John had introduced them.  John was also the best man at their wedding.   Now, another friend has sent him  a newspaper piece about the child these two, now departed, introduced to the world and named after their buddy John.  Barbara and John were also chosen as the boy's godparents.

"He looks a lot like his old man, but he changed the spelling of his name to JON. Show biz!  There's also a lot of the classiness in his appearance that his mom projected," John explained.

Jon Hamm

Though he has yet to see the hit TV series Mad Men he now knows that the godson he once held in his arms is one of the biggest new stars in Hollywood, Jon Hamm.


"The show is on too late for me, but I hear it's pretty good". allows John.
I am now making it my goal in 2011 to get him up to speed on TIVO or some other video recorder.

A terrific end to another year!  An old friend is still on the right side of the sod and, as usual, has a wonderful story to tell.
That's the very best thing about old friends...the stories.  I love the stories.

Best Present of 2010

Seeing Christmas through his eyes.

Do I hear Santa in the other room?

It's That NO PRESSURE Time of The Year

We're running a little late this year, but it's finally done.  Today we mailed off the last of the Christmas cards.  According to "Russ the Mailman" we are members of a dwindling tribe of hopeless Luddites who still do this "stamp and envelope" thing at Christmas.  The postal department statistics show that what was once a yuletide project for most families is in precipitous decline.  About half of us send out Christmas cards anymore.  We'd rather email or post our good wishes on Facebook.  Too dangerous for me!  You never know when some unfortunate remark about your Aunt Shirley's ass might make it into someones blog or be accidentally included in a mass emailing.  (I have no fear of retribution here as this post has a very exclusive audience.  We screen like the TSA.)

So, with the Christmas cards on their way to old Army buddies, long lost high school degenerates, and assorted toothless goober distant cousins, I am now free to enjoy the holidays.

This will be grandson Dan's first real Christmas.  He was too little to pick-up on the whole toys and goodies grab last year, but having turned one I now think he is ready for a drum set or a BB gun.  Don't you?  Better check with grandma.

I'm especially grateful these days to be free of any work related obligations.  All those years in the radio business provided me with a lifetime of Christmas promotion nightmares cooked up by unscrupulous time sales slime merchants.  (There is no lower form of human life than broadcast time sales personnel.  They put Times Square hookers in the shade.)  I recall one Christmas season, either in Tampa or San Diego, where an "account executive" (talk about euphemism!) roped me into dressing up in a Santa suit after finishing my morning show and visiting the lion's share of his current client list.  If memory serves, there were bottles of whiskey to distribute and other goodies to pass out and....I really don't remember much about the rest of the day.  Come to think of it, I believe I had a pretty fine time.  Never mind.

Then there were all the office parties.  Does anybody have those anymore?  Those were always good for a bushel basket full of embarrassment for the entire office.

"The stockings were hung by the chimney with care...the rest of the clothes were tossed anywhere."

So, now it's time to get busy relaxing while we all wait for old St. Nick.

Wait a minute.  I haven't done ANY shopping !  Damn!  I knew I'd forgotten something.  Where did I put the car keys?  Better yet...where did I leave the car??

What do the kids want this year?  Yikes!! What am I going to get my wife??!!

Well, it's off to the mall.  How many days do I have left?  I'm in trouble now.  

I know.  I'll get Santa to help me.  That's the ticket, just get the Fat Boy what he wants for Christmas and let him take care of the rest.  Whew!  Who knew it would be that easy?  One lap dance at Jumbo's Clown  Room coming up Santa!  It sure beats fat camp.

Maybe I Can Use Your Bucket?

The problem with "bucket lists" is this:  once you start actually doing some of the things you've decided you must do before  allowing the worms to have at your carcass it is necessary to consider something else.  What's the plan if you REALLY like a particular adventure?  Can you do it again?  There appear to be no rules regarding blowing your dough on goofy adventures; so here is my take:  IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO, EVEN IF I HAVE TO BORROW YOUR BUCKET, I AM GOING BACK TO AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND.

Linda and I cruised the Panama Canal earlier this year and are both content to scratch that one off the list.  The canal is amazing in many respects, but ONCE as they say, is enough.  I can die happy knowing that it is an engineering miracle and that it wouldn't have happened without the U.S. and, by the way, we gave it away a few years ago and it now seems to be pretty much an outpost for the Chinese communists.

Port Chalmers, NZ

Australia and New Zealand are another story.  WOW!  Now these are a couple of magnificent countries!  Both are loaded with remarkably warm and witty people and have scenery and natural resources beyond compare.  You know a place is pretty spectacular when you find yourself perpetually wishing you were again thirty years-old  and could reinvent yourself in this brand new land of opportunity.

It is a long flight to Sydney, Australia where we boarded Holland America's ship Volendam.   Once you've endured that torturous plane ride the worst is over.  Let the party begin!  Aussies and Kiwis are the original party people.  Perhaps it is their prison heritage that has taught the Aussies  to "dance in the rain" instead of merely waiting for the storm to pass.  Whatever, they're going to have a good time and you are encouraged to "come along".

As soon as we boarded the ship, which was destined to hit Australia's Melbourne and Tasmanian ports before heading for New Zealand,  we bumped into the couple in the next cabin.

"Real name is Ernest, but in Australia they just call me Ern'....don't know why, it's just their way."  Ern is a 90 year-old from Adelaide who is traveling with his "baby" sister Marion, who is 86.  Neither of them appear to be much past 75 and are neither slow of thought or lacking a sense of humor.  They've both outlived spouses and thought it a dandy idea to take a cruise around the neighborhood of the South Pacific they've called home since the early 1950's.  Both are originally from England.  Ern, an engineer by vocation, emigrated in 1954 and was very much involved in the evolution of the electric power grid in Australia.  Marion, having read his letters to their parents thought it foolish to stay in cold and dank London when places like Ern was describing were warm and loaded with lots of young blokes who spoke English.  She came and stayed down under. 

"Ern" at the rail.  At 90 he goes to sea one more time.

Marion has outlived a husband and a boyfriend;  one "ex"husband, to her chagrin, remains alive and a "real bastard".  Ern had a long marriage and several children.  His oldest daughter gave the okay for him to construct his own "grandpa cottage" on the property behind her house where he enjoys ready access to his grandchildren and great grandchildren.

This year, after taking a fire extinguisher to the ninety candles on his cake, Ern pined for one last trip to sea.  He was a British naval officer during the second world war and had come to love the sea even in those less than desirable conditions on the Mediterranean and the North Atlantic.  It was time to set sail once more and cast eyes on the beauty of his chosen homeland while standing on sea legs.

Like anyone who has adopted a homeland, Ern was a font of information on both Australia and New Zealand.  We were lucky to have ready access to him and Marion when it came to all the questions filling our heads as we sailed from port to port.  Their knowledge regarding natural resources, history, and all the critters who could do you harm was astounding.  For some reason, Australia has at least seven kinds of spiders and snakes that can kill you in very painful ways---and, they're plentiful.  I plan to spend the rest of my life avoiding tiger snakes and funnel web spiders...the worst of the lot.  New Zealand, by contrast, has an abundant bird population, sheep, cattle, a few too many possums, and one lousy poisonous  spider.  NO SNAKES.  A real plus in my book.

The cruise lasted fourteen days that seemed to be four, but that's the way you want it to be.  Who wants to be on a vacation that reminds you of the old days when dad and mom would pile everybody into the station wagon for a two week trip to hell called "Let's visit Aunt Shirley".

It was a long way home to San Diego, but both Australia and New Zealand are on both of our "do it again" lists and, in addition to a bad airplane cold, we picked up a couple of fantastic "old" new friends.  Ern and Marion are, like most every member of the Greatest Generation, a couple of people who have learned to make the best of every moment they have.  A lesson for us all.

"Whether it's the best of times or the worst of times, it's the only time we have."

Art Buchwald

Picton,NZ

Sydney Opera House