Monday, July 27, 2015

Last Will and Testament.....

Last week I found out the exact date my son wants to move to Chicago.  I am going with him.  He is renting a U-haul truck here in Orange County and dropping it off in Chicago, at which point, I will fly home. 
So last Monday I made flight arrangements.  I came into work Tuesday morning as usual when I could see my assistant looked upset.  She told me about a terrible dream she had the night before. It involved a Southwest airplane that caught fire in midair and then crashed to the ground killing everyone.  
The funny thing is I had not told anyone I was flying SouthWest. She is the kind of person that does not really keep track of 'details.'  So the fact that she had this "vision" is a little on the creepy side.  I am not one to fall for this kind of "apocalyptic clairvoyance", but just in case she is right and becomes the next "Jeane Dixon" here is what I plan to leave behind:
To

Mark Lester- I leave my humor and wit.
Bobby Lester- I leave my amazing hair and good looks.
Mary Lester-  I leave a heart full of love and kindness.

Kelly Wilmot Cook- I leave $2.39. Enough money to buy a carton             of eggs to throw at unsuspecting high school band members.
Lorraine Jacobs Cross - I leave $4.49. Enough money to buy a bag of ice cubes to throw at unsuspecting high school band members.
Lora Martin- I leave my personal "rape whistle" to use when you catch Kelly and Lorraine torturing high school band members.
Mark Miller- I leave my 1978 polaroid camera with six pictures left to be used when Kelly and Lorraine utilize their inheritance. 
Steve Pniewski- I leave my personal "Angels Sombrero" and "Mike Trout fish hat" To be worn at my funeral while you sing the theme from "Shaft!"
Elijah Weems - I leave my Calvary Sword and Whip (every eight year old needs a sword and whip!)
Chris Hruby- I leave my list of divorce lawyers to avoid!
Bill Tuli- I leave my favorite Shoe horn!
Rosa Jimenez- I leave my trophy from a Grade II win in horse racing. And an old sleeping bag (used only 48 times in the Wilderness.)
Sonja Leysen Key- I leave my David Cassidy lookalike photo taken  of me at Black's Beach.
John Lindsey- I leave my Rubik's cube (the one with two missing tiles.)
Debbie Fourmont- I leave you my album of horse pictures.  May they bring you a smile like they did me.
Gina Regan - I leave my 10% off coupon for "Ms. Lora Martin's Finishing School for Wayward Girls."
Sarah Rowling- I leave you three jars of my candied pecans.  I owe you a lot more, but Kelly kept stealing my jars.
Greg Reynolds- I leave you my Harmonica just in case you decide to give up on the drums. And one of my mankinis (color is your choice.)
Mark Telles- I leave you my most recent month of "BodyBuilder" magazine--the "Venice Beach" Edition.
Chip Carin- I leave my Banjo.  This has brought me serenity and peace in between dental patients. Oh, and a Mankini (your choice of color, you may need to arm wrestle Greg for the green one.)
Ed Baugh- I leave my brass knuckles which can be used the next time you come to visit California. (oh, and of course a Mankini. Your choice of color, although a scrum may occur at the time of distribution!)
Sunny Rolfs - I leave you my car.  It probably needs a major detail. (The smell inside may remind you of something unearthly, pay it no mind.) Oh, and gas.  I didn't fill up before I left because, well you know.
Maria Otramba- I am leaving you my high school yearbook. I hope this time you sign it.
Don McKenna- I am leaving you all the contents of the bottom drawer of my nightstand.  I think we both know what you need to do.
Robert Fleischman- I leave my "good" pair of Nun-Chucks to be used on your next visit to National City.
Emelia Harril- I leave you one of my Mankini's.  You will look the best in it and you will probably win the scrum battle.
To the rest of my friends I am going to have my brothers set up a "Money Wind Booth." You will each have a turn at a thousand dollars.  The catch will be that the booth will contain two thousand Kennedy Half dollars.  From wherever I may end up in the afterlife, this should be fun to watch.

To Julie I leave more gratefulness than I could ever express with words. You have made my life more joyful and full of laughter than I ever thought possible. All of my love and the last $64 in my checking account that my lawyer and ex-wife are fighting over.


See you all on the other side....














Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Nature versus Nurture.....which do you believe?



I would like to use the above recent photograph as a place to start with my question of "Nature versus Nurture."  
These are my two sons (Mark and Bobby, aren't they both so handsome?)  I would like to first point out that they take after their mother and me in different physical ways.  Mark has her hair and skin color and Bobby has mine.  The two of them are different emotionally and verbally.  Mark is animated when he talks, he always has been since his first word.  He is a great story teller! He told a story the other night to the entire family that had us laughing and crying at his theatrics.  Bobby is the strong silent type (Clint Eastwood comes to mind.) When he speaks up everyone listens, he chooses his words carefully!  He is an incredible man of observation.  He should have been a secret agent.
When I look at this picture I can't help but think of my dad.  He babysat my kids with my mom at least once a week for their entire childhood, so they spent plenty of time with him. Of course I spent my entire life around my dad, so his "antics" rubbed off on me or were these traits already in my genetic makeup. Mark is making what I call "The Cheese" face.  Bobby is being very cavalier with giving the photographer "The Bird."  
Now you might think that these are totally "Dave" traits.  You can think that, but I see my dad in both of these things.  Perhaps I got it from him and passed it on--or my kids watched the both of us. My father was never shy about showing his funny side to the kids. As much as I asked him to be more conservative about his behavior around the kids he would just give me his stock answer, "I'm a Senior Citizen, I can do whatever I want!"  Well, how can you argue with that?  If you knew my dad that was just who he was.  
My question is this, would they be like this if they were orphans?
My friend Lora has a 22 year old daughter who has not really spent much time with her father.  He was not a nice man and they did not want to be around him.  What's interesting to me is how many traits the daughter exhibits that are just like her father! If you were to talk to Lora she would tell you it's uncanny. One very simple example is the way her daughter drinks an ice cold beverage. She will make a sucking noise to get a small amount of fluid every time she leans back to imbibe.  It is just like her father.  When Lora watches Delanie drink, it's like watching her ex husband.  How is it that something as simple as that can be passed on without observation(Nature?)
My grandpa lived in St. Louis,  stammered and stuttered when he was a boy.  I was born in 1963, he was born in 1907.  So when I started to stutter in first grade (1968) he was 61 years old. I never heard him stutter! My mom told me that he was picked on by kids (non-Irish) in the neighborhood ( they would surround him like wolves and attack him.  My great grandmother told him to put a rock in each hand  and swing like crazy when attacked.)  Sometimes an emotional event as traumatic as that can start a young man on the road to verbal roadblocks. My grandfather was a very eloquent speaker when I knew him.  
I stuttered when I was beaten and afraid at St. Catherines Military School.  Obviously "Nature" took over with this.  Somewhere in my DNA is a gene that expresses verbal dysfunction under duress.
My little six year old cousin Jackson was eating breakfast next to his grandpa (Cousin Ricky.)   Julie and I were watching and observing how their facial muscles were exactly the same in motion during mastication.  Now that's hard to copy (nature.) 
Giving "The Bird" and giving "The Cheese" Nature or Nurture?
I wonder how much choice we really have?

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Trying to enjoy the journey.....can I?

In a couple of weeks, I am going on a cross-country automobile trip to Chicago.  My son Bobby is moving there and I offered to go with him so he wouldn't hazard this trip alone.  I am goal-oriented! 
No, I'm not trying to impress anyone with this on my resume...I am practically OCD! I have already made out a driving schedule for each day going through the SouthWest heading to the MidWest.  
What I haven't done is figured out how I am going to enjoy seeing everything that is new to me!  How will I slow down to enjoy the "Wow" factor of America?  And how about spending five exclusive straight days with my son (who I will probably not see for a couple of years) in the confines of a van? I'm just not thinking about any of that, only the goal of arriving in Chicago on time.
   I have always been this way.  I have a hard time enjoying the moment, usually living in the future.  What needs to be done next? That's my idiom.  I wish there was a middle ground for me.  
There can be, I just need to find it on my journey. 

Thursday, July 16, 2015

I used to love digging when I was a boy.....

When I was a boy I loved to dig.  I was fortunate enough to have a backyard with a huge dirt lot.  My dad one time found a tunnel that was deep enough to hide me and three of my friends.  I don't know why it was so important.  Maybe the feeling of accomplishing a goal everyday (digging a little deeper.) Maybe it was the fact that I had made the perfect spot to win a game of "Hide and Seek." Maybe it was a place that I thought was all mine and I could just hide from the world.  It took me weeks to make that tunnel.  When my dad found it he made me fill it in.  I was disappointed, but that gave me another goal (filling it back in, which I accomplished.)
   Nowadays I don't dig any holes in the dirt.  I haven't had a garden in three years.  I loved digging in my garden.  I would take a shovel to the hard ground, turn it over and add mulch every year.  Then I would plant my tomatoes.  I loved that!  I have loved gardening since I was a boy and it is only in the last three years that I haven't had a garden.  I live with Julie in her little condo and there is no yard.  I have been offered by friends to come over and use their dirt for my garden, but that just doesn't seem to be the same.  I like the freedom to walk outside at any moment and look down at the growing little plants, picking weeds and watering when necessary. That represented "Freedom" to me.  Something that was completely mine that I took care of and that I produced a product which was so important to me.  It nourished my body and soul!
    I think the forefathers of our great nation had this in mind when they declared independence from our soverign in 1776.  We wanted to be left alone to dig, make our own sustanance and have the freedom to make our own choices.  Sometimes, I wish I was ten again and all I had on my mind was digging.

Can you dig it?

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

taking chance...will you?

It's funny how some people will cross a street without looking and others will wait for the car that is a mile away to pass before crossing a street.  Life is not always as dramatic as those examples, but you know what I mean.  Most people know what level of "risk" they are willing to take in life.
  Last month I had the pleasure of being taken to lunch by my son, Bobby.  We talked for two hours.  What really mattered the most was talking about his future.  He is moving to Chicago at the end of this month to start a new life there.  He wants to get into stage acting and comedy.  He has saved his money and found a place to live.  He will give it a try for a few years. 
What makes this decision difficult is that he has a young lady in his life. Her name is Katherine.  They have been friends for four years and are now dating, seriously.  Bobby told me that he thinks about being away from her and how hard that will be.  I asked many questions about her.  Mostly amounting to, "Is she a good partner?"  His answer was, "Yes!"  
   I told him that if he feels this way about her, perhaps he should ask Katherine to move out to Chicago with him.  He was afraid to ask her in case it didn't work out.  I told him, "What if it does?" He said again, "What if it doesn't?"  I told him, "You'll never know unless you try."  This went back and forth for a while.  He doesn't want to hurt her if the situation doesn't work out.  I understand, hurting people is not what we like to do.  I told him to think about it.
   Last weekend we had a party for the family.  Bobby brought Katherine and introduced her to our visiting Missouri family.  She reminds me of Julie.  Katherine is genuine, friendly, hard working, smiles a lot, and talks kindly to Bobby.  That last part is what I wanted most in a partner and I get it daily from Julie.  Anyway, at the party I found out that Katherine recently asked Bobby if he might want to have her come along and live together in Chicago.  He was relieved!  He just couldn't take the chance to hurt her. Katherine on the other hand didn't see any hurt in the future only hope for happiness.  Hope. I like Hope!
    Bobby is leaving for Chicago in a couple of weeks.  Katherine will join him in May.  She needs to finish some obligations before she goes.  I like that she understands what an obligation is!  Last weekend at the party I put up a Piñata for everyone to have fun with. I gave all our guests the chance to use a big stick or my ten foot bullwhip (yes, I own a bullwhip! I actually own two. I thought I would be the next Indiana Jones back in 1982. That story can wait for another post. )  I demonstrated with the whip and quickly knocked off one of the legs of the bull shaped Piñata.  Of the sixteen or so guests at our little party only Katherine took up the opportunity to try the whip on the Piñata.  I gave her a quick lesson, but it really takes a lot of practice and you do get whipped in the process from time to time.  As you can imagine, she ended up with a nice whip shaped welt on her leg.  She also ended up with the experience of trying a bullwhip.  She was all smiles.  A person has to be willing to go outside of their comfort-zone sometime to get what they want. It's not easy.
   Katherine took a chance...will you?



Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Misunderstood.........do you understand?

Look ahead in the road!  Do I mean look far away or is there an actual cranium in the road?
   I think that I explain myself probably too much when I talk simply because I don't want to be misunderstood.  Why does that bother me to be misunderstood?  I wish I knew.  Perhaps this goes back to my elementary school days at St. Caterines Military School.  Punishment was swift and aggressive back then.  Served with paddle, belt or a swagger stick!
   I have always wanted to be a teacher.  I feel that I am very patient and I like to give long drawn out explanations.  Some people may find these explanations take too much of their time. I don't want to be wrong or perceived incorrect.

In 1963 my father started his dental practice in Orange.  My mother and him had met other dentists in the area and asked for referrals of any patients when they were too busy.  They had made a full schedule of appointments for that first day.  By lunchtime no one had come through their door.  They were waiting for that little bell to announce someone had come inside.  They were discouraged and wondered what they had done wrong. Just then the phone rang and it was one of the patients that had been scheduled.  She told my mom, "I thought you were closed since your door is locked."  Misunderstanding.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

1000 square feet... Saying thanks

Julie and I live in a two bedroom small condo.  She is selling it so we can move to a three bedroom moderate condo.  We feel with an extra bedroom we could let one of our kids visit or when our friend Steve Pniewski comes to town we can offer him a real bed in a real room.  Lately, when Steve visits he uses the blowup bed with Star Wars sheets (bought for Julie's seven year old nephew) and sleeps in the living room.  It's not perfect, but it works for now.  We also would like a little more room to share entertaining friends and family.  We both enjoy celebrating life!  We work so hard that sometimes we forget to "live." So if we had a little bigger place those celebrations would be easier and more doable.
   This little home has been the restaurant, park, theater, stage for so many parties and gatherings over the last four years. We celebrated Allison's 30th birthday, Valentines Day, Meet the Parents Day, Kentucky Derby Day, Mother's Day, Thanksgivings, Christmases, birthdays for nieces, nephews and siblings.  
Not once did this home complain.  She was so happy to be filled with love.  She has given her all with only a 1000 square feet.  For that, Julie and I are eternally grateful.  We will never forget this friend.
   When all the furniture is moved out and we are standing by the front door to lock it for the last time, we will say a very quiet "Thank You."  

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Cousin Ricky...my fast four legged friend.

Today 'Cousin Ricky' is running in the third race at Los Alamitos Race Course.  Five years ago I owned a mare named "Impressive Flight." She was a very fast racehorse who won her first two races in England.  I paid to have a stud named "Council Member" sire her.  He was the last standing son of "Seattle Slew"--so you can imagine I had high hopes. 
  'Cousin Ricky' was born on March 30, 2011.  He had a brown coat with a white star on his forehead.  He was beautiful! I named him after my favorite cousin from St. Louis.  My REAL Cousin Ricky is the funniest, nicest, most "down to earth" man you will ever meet and he means the world to me. I usually named my horses after my children, but this horse seemed different. My Cousin Ricky is different (in a good way.) I was hoping this little colt would be too.
   As Cousin Ricky (the horse) grew, I would go and visit him every few weeks.  He would come up to me and sniff my hand to see if I had any treats for him.  I would brush his coat and pet his long nose. If I was in a happy mood he would act like a puppy by jumping around and being goofy with me.  If I was sad he would know it and would come over to me slowly and put his head on my shoulder as if to give my a hug. He was very intuitive.  Well, I would put my arms around him and hug him back. We were friends.  
   It's funny when you go into horse racing you do so for a variety of reasons, but one of them is to make money.  A business requires a certain number of hard decisions to stay profitable.  One of them involves the sale of assets.  Sometimes we would have to sell a horse to cover the expense of another, or to make a profit for that tax year. In 2012 I sold Cousin Ricky to some friends (a group of three people.)  Luckily they were close friends so it wasn't like I lost him at all.  In fact, I went to every race. Cheered him on until my voice became "hoarse." As you you know from previous blogs I also enjoy meeting interesting people at the races such as Dick Van Patten, Mel Brooks, Joel Grey and Bo Derek the star of the movie "Ten."
   In May of 2014 Cousin Ricky was coming off of two straight wins.  The trainer (Jeff Mullins) was concerned about his knees and felt that group needed to put him in a low claiming race.  If you knew that you had an asset that was not going to perform in the future, as a businessman you would have a fire sale to get rid of the merchandise.  That is exactly what this trainer was telling the owners--it was time to put him in a claiming race. Because of how costly it is to feed and train a racehorse, they agreed to the race.  When you enter a claiming race you are putting up your horse for a particular price.  If someone wants to buy your horse they need to fill out a claiming ticket and place it in a special box more than 15 minutes before the race.  As an owner of the horse, you do not know if someone claimed your horse until the end of the race when the box gets opened.  
   Cousin Ricky was the favorite in this particular claiming race.  He tripped coming out of the gate, but Drayden Van Dyke, the jockey, pulled him up quickly and raced him to the front. It looked as if he would win easily until the last 100 yards when he started to slow down.  "Runaway Que" ran past him and won by a "neck." I don't know what happened.  Maybe his knees started to hurt him, maybe the jockey didn't see the other horse coming.  It was over and he came in Second...  
    Then they opened the box.  And his name was on the claiming ticket.  A worker at the track placed a red tag on his halter which meant Cousin Ricky had been sold.  The new trainer sent over his groom to take Cousin Ricky to his new home.  We weren't even allowed to say goodbye.  This is the business.  
I drove home thinking about him. My thoughts revolved around how odd it would be that he would be in a different stall.  They may give him a different brand of feed.  The horses next to him would be strangers.  The groom who took care of him the past year wouldn't be there for him any more. 
He wouldn't see me ever again! He wouldn't hear my voice, he wouldn't feel my touch, he wouldn't sniff my hand.  I wouldn't feel his head rest on my shoulders again.  I was very sad at this loss. The drive home was very blurry, as my eyes were filled with the by-products of these thoughts.  It was a business, but a hard one.
   Cousin Ricky ran a couple of more times after that, but didn't do well.  Then we didn't see him in a race at all for eight months. My guess is they fixed his knees and gave him time to recuperate.  Cousin Ricky finally came back but didn't do well going long distances, so they shortened him up--and he got back to his winning ways last month at Los Alamitos!  
I will be cheering for him even though he belongs to somebody else. He will be on the far outside post when the gates open at 3:13 pm today. He will be wearing the #10 saddle cloth.  In my book he will always be a "Ten!" 



p.s. my birthday is 3-13




Drayden Van Dyke 



Cousin Ricky Ready to Run at Santa Anita





Cousin Ricky winning at Santa Anita






                                                Cousin Ricky as a baby sniffing my hand
                                                                         



Julie's seven year old nephew Elijah with Drayden Van Dyke




The REAL Cousin Ricky meets Cousin Ricky



Thursday, July 9, 2015

What is a hero?

Growing up my idea of a "Hero" was someone who I wanted to become.  Someone everyone admired for what they could do that most of the public could not.  My hero's growing up were Nolan Ryan, John Wayne and Steve Martin. They were what I aspired to become.  I had no idea really what they were like in person, if they were nice or kind in addition to being Hero's.
  When I was sixteen my parents offered to watch a fifteen year old Down Syndrome Boy whose mother worked for them at their office. We spent three hours watching him for her as she attended some meeting.  This boy was a Whirlwind!  My younger brother and I followed him around, telling him to be careful, don't touch, watch out!  It was exhausting!  I can't give a better word for how I felt that night.  I was so thankful when it was done.
  His mother was sixty five when she dropped him off at our door step.  We watched him for three hours. Three Hours!! I was exhausted and I was sixteen.  Now, at the tender age of fifty two, I can't even imagine how she did it or possibly still does it.  He was not that high functioning of a Chromosome 21 diseased person.  
  When she left I told my dad that she was a "Hero."  I don't think he completely understood what I was saying, but I knew. My dad's idea of a hero was Clyde Beatty the lion tamer or Doc Severinsen the trumpet player.  This woman was a "Hero."  She probably didn't think so, she probably thought she needed to get up the next day to take care of her son and do their routine for living. I can guarantee that she never thought of herself as a hero, only as a mother. My definition of a "Hero" has changed since I was a boy.  Now I believe it to be "a person willing to put the needs of others above their own." I wish I could remember her name.  His name was "Carl." Some "Heroes" are nameless, just like in Arlington Cemetery.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Getting picked on in high School... Or How I learned to avoid a pitched egg!

    I remember the very first minute of high school.  I was in a hall way when the bell rang.  A kid about ten feet in front of me whipped around in response to the bell.  As he moved so quickly he lost control of the forty pack of pencils he had in his binder.  They flew everywhere.  Students grabbed the free pencils without any thought of the pain and embarrassment that the freshman was experiencing.  I just watched as the older students laughed and yelled, "free pencils."  I was so worried about my own existence that I didn't think about his.
   About a month into high school I can remember sitting on the practice field with Chris Hruby, Jim Mitzel and Kevin Sanders.  We were just minding our own business when Charlie Hernandez and  Don Ardanaz came up and started to make fun of us.  They said, "Why don't you guys go blow your horns!"  No one laughed as these guys and the other freshman football players thought they were being funny talking about how "gay" we were for being in the band.  Finally Chris Hruby said something very amusing about their lack of intelligence that made Charlie Hernandez feel very small.  Charlie told Chris "Go To Hell!"  Chris's response was, "I did, but they kicked me out for selling you Ice Cream!"  Charlie had no idea what to say to Chris.  He was so angry, yet he couldn't give an intelligent response. He challenged Chris to a fight immediately. Chris said, "No Thanks, I'm busy."  Luckily, Mr. Ickes came by just at that point.  
   Chris and I have been picked on, like so many other band members from so many years ago.  We have learned to deal with the hatred that came with just being a little bit different.  I wonder if this hatred made us select the mates that we ended  up with.  Perhaps that few minutes of hate--over and over again--made us think we were not worthy of a lifetime of love and kindness.  Or just kindness?  Chris and I have both had a very difficult time with our first mates.  Each one has taken more than they have ever given to us.  In each case, we thought that the nicer we were to them, the nicer they would be to us.  Each time we were wrong. During our High School days, we would smile and try our best to please the other kids in our class--by blowing our horns and marching in an entertaining way.  We didn't realize that we were only giving the other members of our class more reasons to make fun of us.  We really thought we were trying to make friends.  
That is what set us up for life.  
    I tease our friend Kelly Wilmot Cook about her throwing ice and eggs at me and my band mates during our games.  She never did! But, other members of our school did this to us--often!  Can you imagine your own classmates throwing ice and eggs at you because you performed for them????  If this happened in this day and age, you can imagine what kind of lawsuit would be attached to this school.  How is it that I have this kind of memory and yet still want to come to our class reunion?  How is it that Chris came to our 30th reunion?  What ever happened to Charlie and Don?  What do they remember? How many female classmates thought that Charlie and Don were dreamy and exciting back during the late 70's and early 80's?  How would they feel about them right now?  
None of us are perfect and none of us peak forever.  At some point our balloon loses air.  When it does will we be ready?  Chris and I have already been at the lowest amount of air, we are ready when that happens again.  Are you?

p.s.  The fall of our senior year Mr. Seil (our school counselor) came into our classroom and was handing out forms telling each student what type of college they could apply to based on their grades and activities.  He called out some folk and would say, "UC schools, Cal state schools, private schools or  Norte Dame (that was Nirvanah.)  As he called my name he said, "Lester you can go to any school you want!"  When he called Don Ardanaz he said, "US Army!"  Don walked up took the paper and went back to his seat with his head hanging low.  He never looked up again during that class.  I would like to say that I took the high road and didn't enjoy his pain. I would like to say that, but I can't. I did enjoy this moment. Some would say, "Karma"...?  I don't know about that, maybe he made fun of me because he wasn't as smart and he knew it.  Or maybe because I was just an easy target because I was smaller and in the band. No one likes to feel inferior, even if they feel this way in their own mind.  

p.s.s.  I hate to be so wordy, but here's another quick story.  Padraic Brown was another athlete who liked to show how strong he was against a stuttering 120 pound trombone playing "A" student.  I was  walking down a hallway when Padraic wearing his Letterman Jacket leaned his shoulder down and "Checked" me hard into a locker.  Him and his friend laughed as I picked myself up.  Thirty years later my good friend Steve Pniewski was in charge of the reunion.  Padraic was on the committee and we were going to meet at The Newport Rib company to discuss the menu for the party.  This was the first time we would see each other in thirty years.  I had prepared myself.  I was going to boast about being a doctor (yes, Steve I am a real doctor!) I was going to boast about owning race horses, having a beautiful head of hair, being in great shape and three beautiful kids.  Mostly, try and make him feel inferior to me.  
   When I got there he sat down right next to me and began to talk before I did.  He started to confide in me about his life and how he got divorced many years ago and didn't see his son for years.  I don't know why he felt comfortable telling me all this, but maybe he felt that I was a nice kid in high school and was a nice adult.  
Well, I didn't make him feel inferior. In fact, I felt so bad about what he was telling me that I put my arm around his shoulders and said, "Hang in there, life will get better." I went from an old hate to a sincere concern about his well being in a minute.  Unlike Don Ardanaz, I didn't get any satisfaction out of his misery.  
Maybe between 18 and 48 I grew a little.
  


Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Fish stick sandwiches..... comfort food!!

When I was a kid and was making my own lunches at home during the summer months,  I loved to make a fish stick sandwich with a side of corn on the cob.  Now I would use two slices of wheat bread (not realizing that there would be those today who would say, "Too much Gluten"),  I would slather on some mayonnaise (that's right, not tarter sauce, my choice I don't know why,  I like them both),  lettuce to make it a little more healthy and a hefty dose of pepper.  You may ask why pepper?  When you are the smallest of three boys (notice I didn't say youngest) you learn to adapt to your environment to survive.  When I was young my brothers and dad would constantly steal food off my plate (especially french fries.) One day I was experimenting with seasonings and added a little pepper to my tater tots.  The reaction from my brothers was priceless.  They couldn't imagine anything grosser.  So unlike Pavlov's Dog I taught them to react to my bell (adding pepper to my food) with negative consequences instead of positive reinforcement.  They never touch my food again.  I learned to like pepper on everything.
   The corn?  Well, you just can't go wrong with corn on the cob in any situation (unless you have loose dentures.) This combination satisfied me every time.  When I left home and went to dental school I stopped making this meal.  I got married, had kids and spent the next three decades trying different wraps, burritos, salads, rice bowls etc, etc,...
  Last month Julie went to New Orleans with her daughter for a weekend.  I was alone and decided I would try that again.  I turned on the television found an Angel game and made dinner.  It was glorious!!  I consider myself a self taught chef (my daughter Mary is a Culinary Institute of America graduate and way above me in any culinary competition, but I am pretty good!) I can make a Hollandaise Sauce that would make you believe you were wearing Dutch shoes, I can make a Cactus salad that would have you think you are in the state of Aqua Caliente and I can make a Canadian dish of Poutine that you would love to "Put In" your mouth.
   All of this being said, why would such a simple dish from my childhood bring me so much happiness.  I was literally moaning from how good it tasted and made me feel.  As I reflected on my carbohydrate high, I started to realize how good I had life during the summers when I was a teenager.  There was no school, if there was it was band camp (and you know what happens at band camp!)
I worked part time at my dad's office or at McDonald's, but it wasn't bad.  Once I clocked out that was that.  No one called me about a toothache or whether or not there was an employee issue, no call from an accountant. You get it, I had the least amount of responsibility and that was great.  There was fun.  I went to the beach every week, played intellivision with friends,  saw a movie or went to an Angel game.  Life was very simple and very good.  I miss that feeling.
  What I feel now is the need to be productive, to take care of others.  I have that constant need to serve.  I believe that once I became a father the needs of others became more important than my needs.  Now that my kids are grown and independent  I still feel the need to take care of other people and/or keep being productive. I would say that a good analogy is that I'm in the fast lane on the freeway and I don't know how to get off and slow down.  I guess eating fish stick sandwiches is a way of taking my foot off the pedal!

Sunday, July 5, 2015

funniest sight I ever saw.... man with chainsaw thumbing for a ride!

About ten years ago I was driving down the main highway in Bullhead City with my kids and their mother.  There was a guy standing on the sidewalk with his thumb out (trying to hitch a ride.)  Now I am not a virgin to giving rides to strangers, neither have I made that a hobby, but this case was special.  He had no shirt on, nor shoes and he was holding his only possesion (a very large chainsaw!)  I started to slow down, not to give him a ride but to take a picture.  The kids mother demanded I keep going (probably not the worst idea!) I don't think this gentleman ever took a "Dale Carnegie How to Win Friends and Influence People" course.  If he had, the chainsaw may not have been involved in his repertoire.

Saturday, July 4, 2015

4th of July...Let Freedom Ring!!

When I was a kid the 4th of July meant fireworks!  Our country celebrates the Independence from our sovereign oppressor (England), but really, fireworks and a little barbecue.  Its a cute little holiday, but I think our country is so far from 1776 that we really don't understand the significance, at least not personally.  
   Can you imagine the feeling of celebration that the nation experienced in 1796? Twenty years after the signing of that Thomas Jefferson authored paper.  People gathered and lifted up their cups of grog or whiskey and said thanks to those that fought for this independence.  Faces that were still fresh in their minds of friends or family members who gave their lives.  We can watch shows on television that remind us of those who fought and the sacrifices that were made.  We can read a good book by David McCullough about the revolution that would make us feel as though we were there, but we weren't.  That makes it a little bit hazy for us.  
   Do you realize that the actual tax rate on the average citizen was around $200 per year in today's money.  The government of England was trying to recoup money spent on kicking out the French during the "Seven Year War."  What you don't hear about is the fact that the French were getting the Indians to attack settlers and the English were fighting France on many fronts, but specifically to us here in America.  The American citizens also charged excessive amounts to the English for natural resources (timber for forts, ships and wagons.)  More than half of the settlers were loyal citizens (known as Toris.)  They understood that England offered protection against other bullies (did you ever watch "The Godfather"? Don Corleone was loved by his neighborhood.)
   Have you ever bought a car in California?  How much did you pay in tax?  Break out one of those receipts, you will be stunned at how much tax you pay. Yet, we are not close to revolution here. The closest we got to a revolution is when Time Warner bought the rights to broadcast the Dodger games.  Even then, we all went on with our lives.  How much does the government take out of your paycheck every two weeks?  A lot!! What do we get for it?  
Let me tell you, for all the money I have paid in taxes, I have lost more freedom than you can shack a stick at.  When the "Patriot Act" was signed, we all said, "Goodbye" to our privacy. Do you think that your conversations are private?  How about your emails?  How is it to find information about your private activities.  I know what you are all saying, "What about our safety?  This way we catch the terrorists." Benjamin Franklin once wrote, " Those who would give up essential Liberties for a temporary safety deserve neither liberty or safety."
   All that being said, " I'm going to watch some fireworks tonight and barbecue some marinated Lamb Chops."  I also recorded the musical "1776."  Julie and I will snuggle up together and celebrate the holiday this way.  Oh, and if you are reading this blog and work for a government agency checking on my patriotism check out my photo below just for you!

Thursday, July 2, 2015

I tried to buy a submarine as a kid....

When I was about ten there was an ad to buy a submarine in a comic book that me and my friends read. My next door neighbor Chris Ginnochio had a pool so we assumed that we could put the submarine in there and practice driving it until we were good enough for the ocean.  
   My friends and I collected our money together and gave the entire amount to my mother.  We asked her to send away for this treasure, but never did see it.  We would ask her if it came every week,  until we forgot about it.  Below is the advertisement.  To this day, it still looks "Bitchin!"

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

I will not live a life of regret..........Penny Chenery (owner of Secretariat)

One of my favorite scenes from Disney's "Secretariat" is watching Diane Lane as Penny Chenery in the barn frustrated that she needs money to save her farm, but does not want to sell the horse because she knows he will become the next Triple Crown Winner.  Her dream is to fulfill her father's greatest dream.  She is under so much pressure from family and friends to just give in and sell the horse.  She looks to the heavens and yells, "I will not live a life of regret!" 
   She didn't.  They were able to keep Secretariat theirs and sell breeding rights to a number of investors.  She went for her dream and won.  How great must that feel.  How many of us have tried and failed?  How many of us have never tried, too afraid to fail.  I would have to say that I am one that does not want to ever look back and regret not trying.  This has not always worked out for me, but I'm glad I'd tried.
    If you ask Julie what her biggest regret is in her life she would say, "Not trying out for the lead in the Mater Dei Senior Musical." The powers that be had asked her to try out.  She was the best singer and looked the part of Mairian the Librarian (we were doing The Music Man.) Her friends, family and boyfriend did not want her to do it. They told her it was too much time, it was for geeks and she would never think about it again.  If you ask her not a day goes by without the thought of how this decision would have changed her life.  This decision screams "Butterfly Effect."  Her life would have been changed dramatically.  She wouldn't have been a young mother, she would have gone on to UCLA after that who knows?  I believe she would have been California's first female Governor!
    When I was in high school I was very shy and stuttered very badly, so I didn't have much confidence in myself.  That being said, I didn't date very much.  The girls that I wanted to date were unattainable to me back then.  The only thing keeping me from succeeding was me!  My regret is not being braver and asking out Julie when we were in high school.  She was in my homeroom the first day of Mater Dei and I sat behind her at our graduation.  In between I saw her from time to time having fun with all of the popular kids.  I was just to afraid of talking to her.  If you ask her today she would tell you, " I would have loved dating Dave back in high school."  Maybe, maybe not.  We will never know because I didn't try.  That is my regret. When I saw her at our 30th reunion I decided that I would not live a life of regret anymore.  And I don't!!