Summer Slips Out The Side Door, Ho Ho Ho

Autumn in San Elijo Hills

We don't get much in the way of changing seasons here in America's most southwestern corner.   Where I grew up, the upper Midwest, we sported what is euphemistically referred to as a "continental climate".  Let me translate:  Cold as a mother-in-law's heart in Winter and blast furnace hot in the Summer.  Please feel free to throw in "always a stiff breeze" for both situations.  I hated it.

As a kid I had to live there, however, once the Army turned me loose I was free to make that "All American" big boy decision to park myself and my family anyplace I chose.  I chose Florida.  The Summers were steamy and the bugs plentiful but I loved the fact that most any Winter day in the sunshine state blew the doors off anyplace up North.  There were two seasons in gatorland: nine months of very pleasant temperatures and three months of extreme steam bath.

Southern California has been my home for most of the past thirty years and, despite the train wreck of  governance in Sacramento, it still has the most agreeable climate in North America.  Northern San Diego county is nearly perfect almost every day of the year and, though it took me awhile, I now recognize the subtle changes in the air as we move from Summer to Fall.  The shadows are longer, the air just a little more crisp, a hint of sage and dry brush is in the wind along with the hope it won't be mingled with smoke.  Our rains won't  refresh us until November.  Soon, some mornings will require the warmth of a sweatshirt or sweater and the fireplace will seem more and more a good idea as evenings grow longer.  The kids have gone back to school; so the neighborhood is slightly more quiet--"hey you kids, get off my lawn!"  This year the Padres aren't just going through the motions of one more"wait 'til next year" season.  They're actually playing well and--this is probably baseball dementia--look like they may have a shot at a wild card birth in the playoffs.  (Yeah, I should probably lie down.)

Wasn't it just Memorial Day?  About the time I get used to the idea of Summer, here comes Labor Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving and-- "how the hell did that happen?-- CHRISTMAS!  I saw the first Christmas displays at Costco more than two weeks ago.  Decorations, ribbons, wrapping paper, kids toys and holiday baskets of chocolates and booze were three isles long and a mile high in AUGUST for cryin' out loud. My mother would have had a fit. When I was nine or ten  she was outraged at seeing a Christmas display in the window of the Gamble's store of our little Michigan town one week before Thanksgiving.  She wasn't alone.  Lots of adults thought it was in poor taste not to wait until after Thanksgiving for Christmas promotions.  These days, if you're in retail, waiting until Halloween is only for the timid. 

So, here we go.  Another year is nearly history.  Wasn't it New Year's Day a couple of weeks ago?  Time to get busy Christmas shopping.

Don't worry, I'll be posting my sizes and a list of things I'd like to see under my tree this year.  You'll have plenty of time to shop.  Forgive me for not waiting until after Thanksgiving.  Wait, better yet,

 cash is always nice.  

I take EXTRA LARGE.

Looking toward the Pacific from San Elijo Hills

I Think I'll Call Him "Special Ed"

Here is a dog I could hang with in the old days.

I like dogs.  I don't have one right now, but if I did, it is written in the big book of doggy that he or she will be felony stupid.  I am certain of this because of the three dogs who have come and, unfortunately, gone in my life none could do no more than answer to their names.  Corky, Lucy and Teri, females all, were capable of eating, sleeping, barking at inappropriate times, and occasionally forgetting that the great outdoors was their toilet, but that was it.  Rolling over on command, sitting up for a treat, speaking when encouraged, or even the basic "play dead" required too much brain power for these mutts.  I loved them, but God they were stupid.  Granted, I never worked with them or gave them encouragement but,…COME ON!  Don't they pick up a few delightful doggy tricks at the puppy farm?  The problem may be genetic.  My brother has two dogs that in just a few short years he has taken from merely being moronic to completely feral.  It's a gift.

What got me thinking about the dogs in my life was a canine intelligence test I stumbled on while looking up something completely unrelated on the Internet.  Isn't  that always the way it is?  So, for all you dog owners, here is the test.  Let's see how your four-legged friend ranks in the brains department.  The test is from Pets1st.com and was developed by Stanley Cohen.




Doggie Intelligence Test:

(PROBLEM SOLVING)

1.  Place treat under soup can.
SCORING: Points Awarded

5 Dog gets treat in 0-5 seconds
4 Dog gets treat in 5-15 seconds
3 Dog gets treat in 16-30 seconds
2 Dog gets treat in 31-60 seconds
0 Dog shows no interest


2.  Quickly throw a large towel over the dog's head and shoulders.
SCORING:  Points Awarded

5 Dog gets free in 0-15 seconds
4 Dog gets free in 16-30 seconds
3Dog gets free in 31-60 seconds
2 Dog gets free in 1-2 minutes
1 Dog doesn't get free within 2 minutes

3.  Place treat under a small towel.
SCORING:  Points Awarded

5 Dog gets treat in 0-15 seconds
4 Dog gets treat in 16-30 seconds
3 Dog gets treat in 31-60 seconds
2 Dog gets treat in 1-2 minutes
1 Dog tries to get treat and fails
0 Dog shows no interest

(SHORT TERM MEMORY)
4.  Let the dog see you place a biscuit in the corner of the ring, then turn him loose.
SCORING:  Points Awarded

5 Dog goes straight for the treat
4 Dog searches systematically and finds the treat
3 Dog searches randomly but finds treat in under 45 seconds
2 Dog searches but fails to find treat
1 Dog shows no interest

(LONG TERM MEMORY)
5.  Let the dog see you place a biscuit in the corner of the ring (a different corner than the one in test 4), remove him for 5 minutes, play with him, return, then turn him loose.
SCORING:  Points Awarded

5 Dog goes straight to treat
4 Dog goes to corner from test 4, then the correct corner
3 Dog searches systematically and finds treat
2 Dog searches randomly but finds treat in under 45 seconds
1 Dog searches but fails to find treat
0 Dog shows no interest

(PROBLEM SOLVING AND MANIPULATION)
6.  Place treat under a low platform (too low and far enough back to reach with mouth).

SCORING:  Points Awarded

5 Dog gets treat in under 1 minute
4 Dog gets treat in 1-3 minutes
3 Dog uses paws and muzzle but fails to get treat
2 Dog uses muzzle only a few times and gives up
1 Dog doesn't try to get treat


(LANGUAGE COMPREHENSION)
7.  Leave dog as if for a recall and in your usual voice, call "REFRIGERATOR".
SCORING: Points Awarded

3 Dog comes
Call "Movies"
2 Dog comes
Call "(dog's name)", "Come"
5 Dog comes
Call "(dog's name)". Come" again
4 Dog comes
1 Dog fails to come


(PROBLEM SOLVING)
8.  Dog is shown a treat through a slit in a large cardboard barricade.  Dog should not be able to get treat through the slit.  Handler encourages dog to get treat.
SCORING:  Points Awarded

5 Dog goes around barrier in 0-15 seconds
4 Dog goes around barrier in 16-30 seconds
Handler stops encouraging dog after 1 minute
2 Dog goes around barrier in 1-2 minutes
1 Dog tries to reach through slit and gives up
0 Dog shows no interest

INTERPRETATION: (These are MY assessments; not from Pets1st.com)


36-40--Congratulations!  You have the Rin Tin Tin or Lassie of dogs!  This dog is going to the Mensa picnic.  If you fall down the old abandoned mine shaft, you're already home.


32-35--A pretty darned smart canine.  Watch your back and your wallet.  Perhaps this mutt should be managing your portfolio.


28-31--Not bad!  A couple of tricks now and then wouldn't hurt.  We know the dog can do them, but he or she may just be a little lazy. Has a future in politics.


20-27--Your basic dog.  Not flashy, good personality and knows not to pee on the carpet.


16-19--A happy but fairly dumb animal.  If human, would probably be batting clean-up for the Cubs.


12-15--The "Ringo" of dogs.  Lucky to be in the band.  Probably couldn't find the meat department at Costco.  Will eat ANYTHING that falls on the floor and then be surprised when it shows up later.


0-11--This would be MY dog.  Not only can't find the meat department, but thinks the cat's box is a buffet.  A dog that puts the funk in dysfunctional.  This mutt doesn't know whether to lick his privates, chase rabbits or bark at the moon and is already planning to vote Democrat.

"Which way did he go boys?"

Johnny Pesky

He always had a bat in his hands.

Number 6 waves to the fans

It was the very early 1970's and I was attempting to re-start my broadcast career after a stint in the Army.  I noticed this guy--he was impossible to miss--as I wandered about Chain O' Lakes Park in the orange blossom infused air of Winter Haven, Florida.  Back then Winter Haven was the spring training home of the Boston Red Sox and WSIR radio, their local affiliate, was my place of employ.  My boss was a big fan of the Sox and insisted on heavy coverage of the team in addition to carrying every Spring training and regular season game.  I was excited that, along with my duties as morning show host at the station,  my afternoons would revolve around interviewing anybody and everybody in the Red Sox organization for use on our pre-game show.  I had access to pretty much the entire Boston team.  This was going to be a cake gig.

As a kid growing up in Michigan, I had long been a fan of the Detroit Tigers.  My dad was a lifelong White Sox guy and my brother was devoted to the Minnesota Twins and Chicago Cubs.  The Red Sox were merely a team from "out East" whose players often popped up in my youthful baseball card purchases unwanted and for the most part unknown.  Unless they had a cool name--Pumpsie Green anybody?-- I would sooner have an extra slab of bubble gum  than a Red Sox regular.  

Johnny Pesky was a name I knew but really had no sense of the player or the man.  I'd heard of the Pesky Pole, but nothing more.  That changed.

Like I said, he always had a bat in his hands and as a coach was constantly hitting fungos.  In fact he could do that while carrying on a conversation or yelling at a rookie for not hustling.  It was easy to see that the veterans and new kids all liked him.  He smiled because he was genuinely having a good time doing what he was born to do.  His happiness was contagious.  This was a BALLPLAYER!

I was slightly nervous about talking to some of these guys.  The team featured the likes of Yaz, Pudge Fisk, Rico Petrocelli, Rick Wise, Bill "Spaceman" Lee, Tim McCarver, and future All Stars Freddy Lynn and Dwight Evans.  To my surprise I found that most were more than willing to cooperate with an interviewer barely worthy of his press credentials.  

"Needle", because he looked so damn friendly, was one of the first interviews I attempted.  The nickname was a product of Pesky's rather long narrow nose and he didn't seem to mind the moniker.  The older guys used it more often than the kids.  Johnny put me at ease right away as we sat in a shady corner of the home team dugout one day in early Spring 1974.  He was a terrific interview.  He had stories from his playing days in the 1940's and even more from his days as a broadcaster, front office executive , ad salesman and coach.  His best friends were guys like Ted Williams, Bobby Doerr, and Dom DiMaggio.  A single question would call forth a world class recollection guaranteed to keep his listener riveted.  He was a raconteur extraordinaire.  I rolled a lot of tape on Johnny Pesky.

Born in Portland, Oregon, he signed with the Red Sox in 1939 after turning down a better offer from the St. Louis Cardinals.  Money was never the most important thing to John.  He became a very good player who had a career average of .307 over ten years in the "bigs", but never made what anybody would call a big paycheck.   Probably the only thing that kept him from baseball's Hall of Fame was the loss of three seasons to his service in the Navy during World War II.  He came back from the war just happy to be once again be one of the boys of Summer doing what he loved.  

Pesky during playing days

During the couple of years I spent in Winter Haven I would talk with Johnny almost every day of the Red Sox camp.  He was good with names and always remembered mine, no small thrill for a kid broadcaster.  I became a true Red Sox fan during those years and would watch them on national TV every time they were on the schedule.  In 1975 they were the American league champs who played the Cincinnati Reds in the BEST, at least in my opinion, World Series ever, and Johnny Pesky was there through all of it.  

By the Summer of '81, I was working in San Francisco doing the morning show on K-101.  Never being stout enough to catch many San Francisco Giant games at windblown Candlestick Park, I had become a bit of an Oakland A's fan.  In fact, the Oakland Coliseum was a convenient stop on my daily commute to my home in Clayton just East of Walnut Creek. Often, if the A's were playing a day game, I would grab the station's box seat tickets and enjoy an afternoon of baseball in the not too warm  Oakland sun.   The seats were right behind the visiting team's dugout and, since the Red Sox were in town, I decided it was a perfect day to catch my favorite team.  

I think I had it in the back of my head all along to try getting Johnny's attention.  I was sure he wouldn't remember me, but I wanted to say "hi".  I hollered at him when I saw his head pop out of the dugout during batting practice and he waved back while he walked toward the fence.  I'm not sure if he remembered me but he was a nice enough guy to do a good job of faking it.  We spoke briefly of Winter Haven and how they were getting along without me.  He allowed that they were doing quite nicely and said that he was glad to see that I had stepped up to a radio market like San Francisco.   Then he was off to work hitting fungos and cracking wise with the guys. 

That was the last time I saw Johnny Pesky.  Oh, sure, I saw him on TV from time to time.  I especially looked for him when the Red Sox finally won the World Series by sweeping St. Louis in 2004.  It was the first time since 1918 and he was there to see them do it!  I thought of him as I watched the celebration.  How good he must have felt.

A few years ago the Sox retired his number, 6, and he was so touched I heard that he cried about it most of the day.  Nobody deserved it more.

Johnny Pesky died this past Monday August 13, 2012.  He was 92--what everybody calls a "good run".
Red Sox Nation is still crying.

Johnny Pesky at the 100th birthday celebration of Fenway Park

The Airport...Always A Wake-Up

"I tol' her not to open the door.  I was NAKED!"

At last, a cell phone conversation worthy of my eavesdropping ears.  I settle in for some aural titillation only to have her turn her back and blend with the myriad muffled and incredibly insipid phone calls surrounding me as I wait for my plane at Lambert St. Louis airport.

I've been in Illinois for most of a week watching the corn commit suicide on the farm my brother and I own.  The situation is dire.  Fortunately we have crop insurance but that won't stop the coming rise in prices for most everything we eat.  Cereal, sweeteners, chicken, eggs, and beef will all be going higher sooner rather than later.  And, don't forget ethanol!   Just what this sick economy needs.

Once, not that many years ago, people brought a book, magazine or newspaper to the plane place to help them kill time, but not anymore.  Now they reach for the omnipresent electronic slave bracelet that is the cell phone.  The worst of them merely push a button on one of those freaky cybor ear clips dubbed Bluetooth.  They look INSANE.

I hate it!  Of course I'm old.   A trip to the mens' room--(damn prostate!)--offers me proof in the mirror as I wash my hands.  My skin is beginning to sport that old guy translucent look.  I'm fading before my eyes.  What next??  That old guy funk?

That said, I'm still fairly certain that people are getting dumber by the minute.  I'm tempted to query a random sample of travelers at my gate regarding their favorite founding father.  Or, better yet, have them explain who Winston Churchill was and why he was the most important man of the twentieth century.  After ten seconds of consideration I scrap the idea as I am certain to be rendered clinically  depressed by my findings.  Whether it's bad schools or mind rot from the cancer that is reality television, most folks are dopes.

Do these clowns vote?  And, if so, for whom?
A family of hillbillies sits down across from me.  As I ponder their vacant stares and jumbo Mountain Dew clutching outstretched hands I think I know the answer.

I make a mental note to remind them to vote...on November 13th.

Try These, Fatso

Are you fresh out of ideas when it comes to diets?

Well, say hallelujah and pass the gravy because DIET GOGGLES are here!

Check it out:  Research geeks at the University of Tokyo have created a pair of goggles that make everything you eat look BIGGER than it really is.  You simply put these babies on before pigging down and a single Oreo looks like a jumbo chocolate pizza.  It seems that these bad boys use an algorithm (whatever the hell that is) that lets them magnify the size of the food while keeping your hand the same size.  That's what makes the food seem so much larger.

As you can tell from this You Tube video, the specs look just slightly clunky and nerdy but...dammit, they work!!!

Naturally, this invention has a myriad of other possibilities.  Just think about what donning these specs will do for the size of your paycheck, or your IRS refund.  How about romance, you say?  The mind reels at the possibilities.

"Just put these on my dear, and take a look at my etchings."  "Eye popping, I think you'll agree."