Bumping Into Ben

"Hey buddy, it's me Gentle Ben!"

While walking in the woods of north Idaho one day last week I chanced upon an old friend.  I nearly didn't recognize him as, like me, he has aged considerably but it was TV's Gentle Ben.  You remember the series don't you?  It was a big hit in the 1960's and featured Ben as the big furry pal of a boy named Mark played by Clint Howard.  The show was shot on location in the Florida Everglades.

"Ben", I said.  "What's up pal?  What a  nice surprise that you're also a denizen of the Idaho panhandle."

Ben & Clint 

HERE IS THE TRANSCRIPT OF OUR CONVERSATION:

GB:  Good to see you too Buddy!  Remember the time we got wasted at Sweet Lou's oyster bar in Tampa?

KC:  Things are a little hazy but I do seem to recall you trashing the place.

GB:  Good times!  It was a real bitch working Florida in a fur coat.  Sort of like working on the surface of the sun,  but I survived.  Rides on the air boat saved me.

KC:  Yeah, this Idaho north woods weather has got to be way better for you.

GB:  Between sweating it out in the Glades and that little pain in the ursine ass, Clint Howard, I couldn't wait for that show to get canceled.  By the way...is there another kid in the history of Hollywood who went from cute to gap-toothed goober faster than the Howard kid?!  Holy crap!  Talk about "the prince formerly known as charming".

KC:  His brother, Ron, always manages to squeeze his mug into every movie he produces just so old Clint can keep getting residuals.  

Clint Howard, from cute to ugly in record time

GB:  It wasn't so easy for me after the series ended.  I wound up working in the circus and hating every minute of it.  Riding the bike, juggling, and all that bear shtick depressed me no end.  I wound up hitting the mead pretty hard and eventually couldn't stay on the bike or  do any damn juggling without knocking myself out.  It was brutal man.  They canned me and the wife ran off with Jo Jo The Dog Faced Boy.  

I don't like to talk about it.

KC:  Well, you're here now and I trust things are on a more even keel.

GB:  Yeah, pretty much.  Although the debate the other night was a bummer.  Geez, can you believe we're down to an orange manatee shaped loon and some old bag who looks like every guy's idea of A LONG DAY?

KC:  Like George Carlin always said:  "The world is a freak show and if you're an American you have a front row seat."

GB: Bingo!

KC:  So, who are you gonna vote for?

GB:  Well, between the humorless, mendacious harridan and the overweight circus act, I'll go with Shakes the Clown every time.  The Hildabeast reminds me of my ex old lady.
By the way...which way to the lake?  I'm really getting sick of huckleberries and am jonesing for some bass.

KC:  The pike are hitting at the mouth of the river and the trout, perch and kokanee are fatter than ever this year.  Northwest sushi at its finest!

GB:  Thanks pal.  Mind if I take your Wall Street Journal with me?  I've got some business to attend to before exiting the woods.

KC: Be my guest.  Catch you later.



And, with that, he was off, older, wiser and certainly cooler than the average bear.

Senior Moments

Corbin Point on Lake Coeur D' Alene

Willard Spiegelman, a professor of English at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, has written a new book called: Senior Moments , looking back, looking ahead.  It's a thoughtful reflection on growing older that has a lot to recommend to those of us who have reached, or are about to reach, our  biblical three score and ten years of life.  If you qualify, there is much that will have you nodding your head.

An observation that particularly resonated with Linda and me was this:  "Here is a formula for staying young well beyond the days of youth:  Grow old in a place where you do not think you belong.  You will feel like an adolescent, because adolescents always consider themselves outsiders.  Then, after decades, just as you have gradually habituated yourself to your surroundings, pack up and leave.  It is time for another, perhaps the final, beginning."

Wow!  Are you kidding me?  We were actually being SMART when we left our comfort zone in Southern California for the wilds of the Idaho panhandle two years ago?  We thought we just had tired of all the traffic, liberal politicians, taxes and  an ever pressing need to learn Spanish.  Instead we were helping ourselves return to our adolescence, though most who know me will contend I have never come close to even flirting with responsible maturity.

It's true we had stayed much longer in the San Diego area than was customary for a couple who had moved seventeen times in nearly forty-eight years of marriage, but it's easy to get comfortable when the sun shines and the temperature seldom dips or soars out of the 70's.  Nonetheless, move we did and have never looked back.

Originally our plan was to travel during the cooler months and stick close to home the rest of the year but Linda's cancer battle has kept us in Coeur d' Alene year round lately and that has been good.  We've learned more of the history of the area and made new friends because we stayed put.  Of course, we miss old friends and family but have been lucky enough to have had many visitors.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that if you're thinking of a change of scenery once you've made up your mind to enjoy doing all the fun things you've been putting off because you had to show up for work, it may be time to consider professor Spiegelman's advice and head for a place "you do not belong".  After all, it may be later than you think.

A patriotic sailboat on July 4th

Sightseeing tour boat

Boardwalk Marina, Lake Coeur D' Alene

As American As?

When I was a kid in the 1950's the only "ethnic" food we had came in a can.  Franco American spaghetti or Chef Boy Ar Dee ravioli was the extent of the menu offered up by moms in our neighborhood.  My dad, brother and I actually looked forward to this nights when mom opened a can of that orange gelatinous stuff before heating it on the stove.  Pizza didn't happen, at least in our decidedly unsophisticated corner of small town America, until the early 1960's and most of us didn't know what to make of it.  We liked it!  Chains like Pizza Hut and Dominoes hooked us for life and made pizza a staple of the American diet that now requires more than 72,000 restaurants to satisfy.

The American palate has grown far more sophisticated in the past several years and it's not unusual to have a number of eateries offering the cuisine of Mexico,Thailand, India, Germany, Greece, China and Japan even in the most remote corners of the country.   Mexican restaurants are fast closing in on Italian joints in popularity just about everywhere but Japanese--especially sushi--restaurants are also multiplying at an astonishing rate.  

I've been a fan of sushi since the 70's when practically nobody else I knew was fond of or had even tried the stuff.  My wife and daughters had to be talked into it only to become even bigger fans than I.  There was a little place next door to the San Diego radio station that employed me in those days and many times I would be the lone non Japanese customer.  (They used to try things out on me and then laugh when I would eat them.  If I didn't keel over they'd add them to the menu.)  I think the sake helped.

Something about "those guys tried to kill me in the South Pacific" prevented me from ever attempting to talk my dad into a sushi bar sojourn when he was alive but mom, in her late 70's, had to admit "it was pretty good" when we dragged her to one of our favorite places.  There is just something about it that most people not only like but CRAVE.  

No question about it, sushi, like Mexican and Italian cuisine has become exceedingly popular in America.  Just take a quick look around.  There are sushi bars in cities and small towns from coast to coast--even IOWA.  It's surprising really.  Think about it.  If someone had told you even as recently as the late 80's or early 90's that restaurants featuring primarily raw fish would become this popular, would you have predicted it.  I thought not, but who can argue with delicious?

Now, where was I?  Never mind, just pass the wasabi.

Eat Me

Home Sweet Calaboose

"Hell or High Water" is an amazingly good film.  Jeff Bridges, as an aging Texas ranger, turns in a performance that may just be the finest of his career.  The Oscar for best leading actor should simply be mailed to him. That is no slight to Ben Foster, who,  for his portrayal of an impulsive bank robbing ex-con, should already have his supporting actor statue at the engravers.

As I watched this saga of a soon to retire ranger on the trail of two west Texas luckless brothers who are systematically knocking off small town branches of the Texas Midlands Bank, it occurred to me that most of us spend far less time in banks than we used to.  With automatic deposits and withdrawals, credit cards, ATMs, and on-line loans it's way too easy to scratch "go to the bank" off our list of things to do.  Banks are reducing brick and mortar locations and full-time employees at an ever accelerating rate.

  

Banking has become one more industry forever changed by the internet.  That's why it's a good thing that Lawrence John Ripple of Kansas City, Kansas was smart to pull off his latest bank heist while there still was an actual Bank of Labor on Minnesota Avenue in that city.  You see Mr. Ripple had an ulterior motive to his attempted ripoff of the bank's cash.  Instead of fleeing after handing a teller a note that read, "I have a gun, give me money", he took the money and then took a seat...IN THE BANK LOBBY.

When a bank security guard approached, Ripple said: "I'm the guy you're looking for."  The guard took the money from him and held Mr. Ripple until the cops got there.  It didn't take long as the Kansas City, Kansas police headquarters is on the same block as the bank.

When questioned by investigators, Ripple said that he'd rather be in jail than at home with his wife.  "I no longer want to be in that situation," was the quote.  He didn't elaborate further but I speculate it was either her company or perhaps a fondness for jailhouse cuisine that prompted this move.  Perhaps it was just more inexpensive than counseling?

"I just love them jailhouse tater tots."

Please, Remain Seated

Another wasted college education

Dear Colin Kaepernick,

As I write this it is Thursday afternoon and the 49'rs are set to play the Chargers tonight in San Diego.  It's Military Night at the stadium and all indications are that you, dumbass, are planning to once again remain seated during the National Anthem.   Where is Joe Montana when you need him?

You have said, "I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color.  To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way.  There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder."

This is rich coming from a guy making millions of dollars for playing a kids' game in a country so racist it elected a black president TWICE and is home to countless other people of color who have succeeded in a myriad of professions for longer than you have been alive.

Okay, you claim to have a beef.  I won't begin to address how completely stupid it is that you have bought into the "hands up, don't shoot" canard foisted upon us by the Michael Brown incident.  All you need do is examine the facts to know that story is simply not true.  That aside, you have numerous ways to make whatever point you wish to make.  You could write your congressperson, petition, picket or embark on a speaking tour.  Many avenues of expression are open to you in this wonderful country of ours.  To refuse to stand for the National Anthem is an insult to all of the brave men and women of all colors who have fought and died so that you have the opportunity to live in freedom.  Your disrespect is also a slap in the face for those who protect you each and every day.  

....It is now Friday and I know that you once again refused to stand for the flag and our Anthem even during Military Night in a city that is home to countless veterans and current service members.  You got a few boos but came away otherwise unscathed.  Get back to me when you figure out how many other countries there are where you could pull this off.

One more thing:  Since you seem to like sitting, I hope the Niners give you ample time for that by giving the QB job to Gabbert.

We Could Have Done Without This

Besides hearing, "hey what's this red stuff" uttered by your doctor,  the worst thing he or she could say is: "it's back."
After nearly nine months of recovery from a stem cell transplant, my wife's cancer is back.
Son of a bitch!  Just when she had begun to feel like all of this had been a bad dream it comes back like a punch in the gut.

We got the news two weeks ago and it felt like somebody was pelting our house with rocks, or, in Linda's case, a home invasion.  Every morning the knowledge that this sneaky bastard of a disease had once again slipped into our lives made the temptation to just stay in bed seem like a good plan.  We're over that now and are ready to kick some large B cell lymphoma ass.  Linda begins with a brand new (just approved in April) chemo drug the first of next week.  This one promises not to leave her feeling too bad or--even more important as far as she is concerned--BALD.  After meeting with her primary oncologist we are feeling quite positive about this drug's ability to do the job.  If it fails there are other new miracles  of medicine to be tried including  the possibility of another trip to Seattle and a re-education of her CAR-T cells.  I have no idea what that's all about but it seems to be succeeding in early trials at the Cancer Care Alliance and at the Mayo Clinic.

Linda is a native of Rapid City, South Dakota and, as another child of that great state and longtime friend, Doug Steckler, said to me, "NEVER piss off a girl from South Dakota....No NEVER."  Steckler is a lunatic but I can't remember the last time his insight was incorrect.  She is pissed!  Cancer doesn't stand a chance.

What Kind of a Name is Marilyn for a Boy?

"Hi, I am a moron."

Major freak flag flyer Marilyn Manson, like most rock n' roll reprobates, won't set foot on a concert stage until all of the perquisites outlined in his contract are in place.  His backstage rider includes such beauties as:  "all rooms shall have private flush toilets (Porta Johns are specifically not acceptable), also "promoter shall provide one oxygen tank with regulator and mask for artist's sole use.  In order to avoid being late to the stage, or starting the show with runny makeup, the dressing rooms for both Manson and his band each require "one clock and one efficient AC unit.  Dressing rooms need to contain these items:  ten Gatorades ( grape, berry or watermelon flavors), two packs of Dentine Ice gum (peppermint and spearmint), French onion dip (fresh from deli, if possible), a half-gallon of two percent milk, and two bags of Haribo gummy bears.

To ensure patrons and performers are in safe hands, "None of the security personnel shall possess any handcuffs, mace, firearms, clubs, knives or dangerous weapons...under no circumstance is a flashlight to be used as a weapon."  If you're a patron of the event, Manson's contract forbids the wearing of spiked bracelets and chains of any kind.  (Obviously Manson draws a "classy" crowd.  ed)
With demands like these you'd expect the guy to actually be talented.
Guess again.

I think we should all have these kind of riders just for participating in daily life.  Not that you asked, but here is my newly created list of "musts" just for waking up each morning:

1.  I would like to be awakened gently like a lily on a quiet pond.

2. I would like my wife to give back at least half the covers.

3. Breakfast shall feature only cereals that come with toys in the box and contain either chocolate or fruity flavors.

4. All pictures and references to liberal politicians must be removed from my newspapers. (yeah, I still read them).

5.  No whippersnappers with their caps on backward allowed within two miles of my hacienda.

6.  NO WIRE HANGERS!  (I had this one before Joan Crawford!)

Uh....I know I have more ideas for this list but I'll need some more time to think them up.  It's not that easy being petulant and demanding.  Now get busy on your own damn list!

Okay, one more:  I demand permission to resume drinking booze if ever I find myself trapped between two or more boring people.  

Pull the trigger.  I'm begging you!