Thursday night
Dream 1: Cracker Couple
I was driving my Honda Fit in an underground parking garage, nimbly making sharp turns around corners, heading for the exit. When I got to the gate, the parking attendant, Sting, was talking to a woman in the car in front of me. He knew a thing or two about cars, and was suggesting good economy automobiles. He mentioned a Toyota, and then he said that the Honda Fit is very good, too. I leaned out of my driver's side window and said, "I love mine!" When it was my turn at the gate, Sting gazed at my new car and commented on the one that I used to park there. He said, "Didn't something happen to your wife's [old] car in St. Louis?" He thought he was so smart. It made me uncomfortable. I told him that I'd gotten into a wreck, but it didn't happen in St. Louis.
I pulled out of the garage into complete blackness, and was immediately lost. All I could make out was the faint image of a river running parallel to the road, and figured I'd just make random turns, hoping eventually to get to civilization, meaning, a recognizable town. After my fourth turn I was relieved to finally see the glow of a city in the distance. I ended up on a highway, and was thrilled to see the U.S. Capitol, still a ways off, but straight ahead, shining like a beacon. Finally, I knew where I was, and where I was headed. Apparently, my car was thrilled, too; it began to fly in that direction, soaring up a hill to a high spot on the roadway. As we flew toward D.C., I noticed that we were passing a curious parade that was moving in the opposite direction on the other side of the highway. It featured hundreds of couples. The men were skipping jump ropes, and the women were walking next to them. One of the couples was involved in some type of infraction, and got in trouble. They bumped into another couple by accident, which threw off their rhythm, and then they got pissed off and began shoving others in the back on purpose. As I passed this scene I heard a loud voice-over announce, "The Cracker Couple is Disqualified!"
Dream 2: Bent Bike
I was in a group of people that had finished up a trip, and were about to fly home. One of the guys in our group was Andy B., whom I'd known in elementary school. We'd just gotten to the airport, and came upon a sight that made us rather uneasy. Debris from a plane wreck was strewn about the runway, and was marked off by chalk and cones. There was nothing too grisly, mainly plastic parts, as if a few things had dropped off of a plane during a takeoff, or landing. Still, it wasn't what we wanted to see before boarding our own plane. I had a bicycle with me, and wasn't sure what to do with it. One of the guys in our party suggested that I chain it to something next to the building. I said, "But I don't have a lock, and besides, we're so far from home." (In other words, how will I ever get it back?) I stood there pondering what to do, and when I looked up, my group was gone. I thought that they got into an elevator, but I wasn't sure which one, or which floor they were on in the terminal. Finally, I figured out that I had a pretty special bicycle after all. It was designed so that I could fold the front and back tires in toward the center of the frame, to make the whole thing more compact. I did so, and took it with me as my carry-on luggage.
*****
Dream 1: Cracker Couple
Ever since starting my current job, it's much tougher for me to get days off to travel back home than it used to be, since I'm responsible for dealing with publications that are on strict deadlines. Something's always deadlining. Even though I've asked for days off months in advance, I've had two requests turned down already this year, and it makes me mad. If I was living back home, I wouldn't have to stress over how to meet up with old friends on a weekend; it wouldn't require a moment's thought. Living 600 miles away, it takes an awful lot of thought, if I plan to drive, in order to avoid adding a chunk of money to the credit card for plane tickets. (We've been invited to a summer cookout in June at the home of some old friends.) No wonder my car was literally jumping at the chance to head toward the gleaming Capitol in the distance.
I saw a recent PBS documentary about a multi-generational family that was taking their parents (who were also grandparents and great-grands) for one last hurrah around the country in a Winnebago. It was amusing seeing how they all got along, thrown together in tight quarters. One of the sons, who appeared to be about 50, exercised at camp sites by jumping rope. That must be why the guys were jumping rope in my dream.
Even though I have disdain for some of my fellow citizens in Tennessee, "cracker" is not a term that I'm in the habit of using. I am currently contemplating whether or not to include the song "Low" by the band Cracker on a CD that I'm compiling, so I suspect that that's why that word crept in to last night's dream. Or, maybe I was hungry for some crackers...
Friday, February 29, 2008
Look Out! / Good Deed, Punished
Wednesday night
Dream 1: Look Out!
I was attending a concert benefiting labor unions which was taking place at my former elementary school in Arlington, VA. A crowd was gathered along the top of the hill that overlooked the "lower blacktop" area. Most of the folks that I saw there seemed to be aging hippies; all were having a good time, greeting old friends, and listening to a few musicians who were standing in a circle, playing acoustic instruments. Suddenly a murmur arose from the crowd, and as I looked to my left, I saw that 3/4 of The Who had showed up. Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey and John Entwhistle were performing on an elevated stage about 50 yards away from me, near the parking lot. I walked toward them, carrying a large, thin, circular rock under my right arm. (Presumably, I'd sit on it once I got where I was going.) As I made my way toward the band, I noticed that the sky was getting darker, and growing ominous. Suddenly, I saw three huge hunks of wood flying high in the sky, but getting lower as they got close to the crowd. The biggest piece was rectangular,in the shape of a door, but larger. All were in their original state -- brown, uncut and unfinished, as if the wind had ripped chunks out of huge trees. I turned and called out to the crowd: "Look Out! Get out of the way!" Unfortunately, it was too late for one of the hippies -- he couldn't outrun the debris, and the the largest chunk flattened him.
Dream 2: Good Deed, Punished
I was a blacksmith or tradesman, working on a large estate, and I was standing outside when the owner rode up and handed me a strap of leather with some sort of buckle, which was broken. He said that it must be repaired immediately -- he needed it in order to go hunting with the hounds that day. He left, and as I studied the strap, the weather became rather misty. Suddenly, I could hear several animals approaching. They were foxes. Soon I was surrounded by three of them, but I wasn't afraid. I put my arms straight out at my sides (as if I was playing "airplane") and calmly said, "It's just me, there's nothing for you [to eat] here." Next, I looked down at my feet, and saw what they were after: a tiny fawn had walked into our circle, and seemed to be standing next to me for protection. I tried to pick it up, and when I did it promptly bit me, really hard, on my left thumb. I held my arm aloft and gave it a good shake, but he still wouldn't let go.
*****
Dream 1: Look Out!
This dream encompasses a few things that I've seen on PBS this week. We watched part of a documentary last night on the life of musician Pete Seeger, who has a long history of activism in support of labor unions. The first musicians seen in the dream last night were based on Seeger's informal sing-alongs with acoustic instruments. Every so often (particularly during fund-raising drives) PBS trots out graying musicians from the 1950s or 1960s, and films them as they perform their hits for aging baby boomers in the audience. (I enjoy tuning in to these programs, even when it's like watching a car wreck; I can't seem to turn away. I'm curious to see how people have aged, and to know who's still "got it," and who should have hung it up years ago.) The latest fund-raising drive is no exception. This weekend, aging hippies will be grooving to a program of live performances of music from the Summer of Love. That's probably why the audience in the dream consisted of so many older hippies. After all, I came of age after the hippie thing had died down. None of my friends were hippies -- they were too young -- and my parents and their peers were already in their 40s when the hippie movement happened. By the way, Arlo Guthrie was interviewed in the Seeger program, and he certainly looks like an aging hippie, with his flowing gray hair.
As for the flying chunks of wood, I suppose that that's a holdover from the terrible recent storms here in Middle Tennessee that destroyed many communities. I'm reminded of the devastation every day at work. The daughter of one of my coworkers attends Union College in Jackson, TN. She and several dorm-mates were huddled in a bathroom when the tornado hit their school. They were lucky to emerge with their lives; they lost everything else.
Dream 2: Good Deed, Punished
We recently bought the BBC DVD series "Planet Earth," and have been enjoying it immensely. (We got a great deal at Costco -- $51.00 for the 5-disc set, something like 12 hours of brilliant photography and insightful narration by David Attenborough, plus three more one-hour documentaries.) Each program focuses on habitat that has not yet been spoiled by encroaching human societies: shallow seas, deep oceans, deserts, the arctic (admittedly melting), grasslands, jungles, forests of California and far northern Canada, mountains in Pakistan, etc. We've seen films of many wonderful animals this week, including Arctic foxes, and the world's smallest deer, which lives somewhere in South America. Chile, maybe? Their young are not much larger than house cats. I'm pretty sure that that's the guy who bit my thumb.
Dream 1: Look Out!
I was attending a concert benefiting labor unions which was taking place at my former elementary school in Arlington, VA. A crowd was gathered along the top of the hill that overlooked the "lower blacktop" area. Most of the folks that I saw there seemed to be aging hippies; all were having a good time, greeting old friends, and listening to a few musicians who were standing in a circle, playing acoustic instruments. Suddenly a murmur arose from the crowd, and as I looked to my left, I saw that 3/4 of The Who had showed up. Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey and John Entwhistle were performing on an elevated stage about 50 yards away from me, near the parking lot. I walked toward them, carrying a large, thin, circular rock under my right arm. (Presumably, I'd sit on it once I got where I was going.) As I made my way toward the band, I noticed that the sky was getting darker, and growing ominous. Suddenly, I saw three huge hunks of wood flying high in the sky, but getting lower as they got close to the crowd. The biggest piece was rectangular,in the shape of a door, but larger. All were in their original state -- brown, uncut and unfinished, as if the wind had ripped chunks out of huge trees. I turned and called out to the crowd: "Look Out! Get out of the way!" Unfortunately, it was too late for one of the hippies -- he couldn't outrun the debris, and the the largest chunk flattened him.
Dream 2: Good Deed, Punished
I was a blacksmith or tradesman, working on a large estate, and I was standing outside when the owner rode up and handed me a strap of leather with some sort of buckle, which was broken. He said that it must be repaired immediately -- he needed it in order to go hunting with the hounds that day. He left, and as I studied the strap, the weather became rather misty. Suddenly, I could hear several animals approaching. They were foxes. Soon I was surrounded by three of them, but I wasn't afraid. I put my arms straight out at my sides (as if I was playing "airplane") and calmly said, "It's just me, there's nothing for you [to eat] here." Next, I looked down at my feet, and saw what they were after: a tiny fawn had walked into our circle, and seemed to be standing next to me for protection. I tried to pick it up, and when I did it promptly bit me, really hard, on my left thumb. I held my arm aloft and gave it a good shake, but he still wouldn't let go.
*****
Dream 1: Look Out!
This dream encompasses a few things that I've seen on PBS this week. We watched part of a documentary last night on the life of musician Pete Seeger, who has a long history of activism in support of labor unions. The first musicians seen in the dream last night were based on Seeger's informal sing-alongs with acoustic instruments. Every so often (particularly during fund-raising drives) PBS trots out graying musicians from the 1950s or 1960s, and films them as they perform their hits for aging baby boomers in the audience. (I enjoy tuning in to these programs, even when it's like watching a car wreck; I can't seem to turn away. I'm curious to see how people have aged, and to know who's still "got it," and who should have hung it up years ago.) The latest fund-raising drive is no exception. This weekend, aging hippies will be grooving to a program of live performances of music from the Summer of Love. That's probably why the audience in the dream consisted of so many older hippies. After all, I came of age after the hippie thing had died down. None of my friends were hippies -- they were too young -- and my parents and their peers were already in their 40s when the hippie movement happened. By the way, Arlo Guthrie was interviewed in the Seeger program, and he certainly looks like an aging hippie, with his flowing gray hair.
As for the flying chunks of wood, I suppose that that's a holdover from the terrible recent storms here in Middle Tennessee that destroyed many communities. I'm reminded of the devastation every day at work. The daughter of one of my coworkers attends Union College in Jackson, TN. She and several dorm-mates were huddled in a bathroom when the tornado hit their school. They were lucky to emerge with their lives; they lost everything else.
Dream 2: Good Deed, Punished
We recently bought the BBC DVD series "Planet Earth," and have been enjoying it immensely. (We got a great deal at Costco -- $51.00 for the 5-disc set, something like 12 hours of brilliant photography and insightful narration by David Attenborough, plus three more one-hour documentaries.) Each program focuses on habitat that has not yet been spoiled by encroaching human societies: shallow seas, deep oceans, deserts, the arctic (admittedly melting), grasslands, jungles, forests of California and far northern Canada, mountains in Pakistan, etc. We've seen films of many wonderful animals this week, including Arctic foxes, and the world's smallest deer, which lives somewhere in South America. Chile, maybe? Their young are not much larger than house cats. I'm pretty sure that that's the guy who bit my thumb.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
58th / Twister
Monday night
Dream 1: 58th
Three farmers, all black men in their 50s, and all old friends, went to the bank. Each was wearing blue denim overalls. All three were there to pick up payments of some kind. Two of the men lived in the eastern part of the country. One lived in California, but was back for a visit. They took turns at the window, and when the man from California got to the front of the line, the bank teller said, "...And we're giving an extra payment to people living beyond the 58th parallel." At that, he turned to his friends and said, "I guess that proves that I'm the smartest one after all."
Dream 2: Twister
My wife and I were in a car on Dinwiddie Street, parked directly in front of my mom and dad's house. I got out first, gazed at the sky, and said, "Look! It's a funnel cloud!" A large black tornado was less than a block away, and was headed in our direction. My wife stayed in the car, but I stood outside and watched as the tornado passed us by, avoided Mom and Dad's, and continued down 34th Street.
*****
Dream 1: 58th
I tried to research the 58th parallel on the Internet, thinking that it would be fairly simple to pinpoint it, but got lost in competing maps, globes, projections and mumbo jumbo. It would be interesting to find out if the 58th parallel is indeed between California and the eastern part of the United States. I don't know much about geography; for instance, I can probably name all of the states on the perimeter of the U.S., but would be hard-pressed to know which are which in the interior. The other night I attended a party at the home of my wife's former boss, and met some nice people who recently came to Nashville from Canada. I told them that I knew nothing about Canada, so we had an interesting conversation. Maybe one of them mentioned the 58th parallel?
Dream 2: Twister
I'm sure that if a tornado really was that close, my wife would not be hanging out in the car. She's a bit of a weather junkie anyway, and would probably know about it well in advance, and take all necessary precautions. I'd hope that I wouldn't be dumb enough to stand around staring at one with my mouth open, either, but if past is prologue, maybe I would. We do get tornadoes and tornado-level winds in Middle Tennessee, and I haven't always used the proper amount of caution. About two years ago, one such storm was whipping the trees like crazy, and the sky was a greenish gray. My wife was at work, but I was home at the time. Hail began hitting the windows, so, of course, I said, "Cool!" and ran outside to check it out. Not long after that I drove across town to pick up a carry-out pizza. I've learned my lesson since then. Nowadays, when the really bad weather hits, we're down in the basement with our cat, a lantern and the radio.
Dream 1: 58th
Three farmers, all black men in their 50s, and all old friends, went to the bank. Each was wearing blue denim overalls. All three were there to pick up payments of some kind. Two of the men lived in the eastern part of the country. One lived in California, but was back for a visit. They took turns at the window, and when the man from California got to the front of the line, the bank teller said, "...And we're giving an extra payment to people living beyond the 58th parallel." At that, he turned to his friends and said, "I guess that proves that I'm the smartest one after all."
Dream 2: Twister
My wife and I were in a car on Dinwiddie Street, parked directly in front of my mom and dad's house. I got out first, gazed at the sky, and said, "Look! It's a funnel cloud!" A large black tornado was less than a block away, and was headed in our direction. My wife stayed in the car, but I stood outside and watched as the tornado passed us by, avoided Mom and Dad's, and continued down 34th Street.
*****
Dream 1: 58th
I tried to research the 58th parallel on the Internet, thinking that it would be fairly simple to pinpoint it, but got lost in competing maps, globes, projections and mumbo jumbo. It would be interesting to find out if the 58th parallel is indeed between California and the eastern part of the United States. I don't know much about geography; for instance, I can probably name all of the states on the perimeter of the U.S., but would be hard-pressed to know which are which in the interior. The other night I attended a party at the home of my wife's former boss, and met some nice people who recently came to Nashville from Canada. I told them that I knew nothing about Canada, so we had an interesting conversation. Maybe one of them mentioned the 58th parallel?
Dream 2: Twister
I'm sure that if a tornado really was that close, my wife would not be hanging out in the car. She's a bit of a weather junkie anyway, and would probably know about it well in advance, and take all necessary precautions. I'd hope that I wouldn't be dumb enough to stand around staring at one with my mouth open, either, but if past is prologue, maybe I would. We do get tornadoes and tornado-level winds in Middle Tennessee, and I haven't always used the proper amount of caution. About two years ago, one such storm was whipping the trees like crazy, and the sky was a greenish gray. My wife was at work, but I was home at the time. Hail began hitting the windows, so, of course, I said, "Cool!" and ran outside to check it out. Not long after that I drove across town to pick up a carry-out pizza. I've learned my lesson since then. Nowadays, when the really bad weather hits, we're down in the basement with our cat, a lantern and the radio.
Friday, February 22, 2008
The Comeback
Thursday night
I was in Virginia, and one of my brother Andrew's friends was visiting the house. He noticed my CD collection, and mentioned that he was going over to a store called the RTX (Record and Tape Exchange) to sell some of his CDs, and if I wanted, he could sell some of mine, as well. I said, "No thanks. But I know the RTX, too. I haven't been there in a while, so I'll have to pay them a visit." Next, I was in the RTX, and they began playing the most amazing disc. I said, "What is that?" They explained that it was a recently-uncovered trove of heretofore unheard Hank Williams music. (Hank Sr., of course.)
Suddenly, I was in Alabama in the mid-to-late 1950s, in a quiet general store run by two white-haired older women in Hank Williams' family. To my surprise, Hank hadn't died at 29 in the back of his car; there he was, standing at the end of the wooden counter, hanging out, dreaming of his comeback. He looked as thin and dissipated as ever, yet he wore a sharp light brown suit and with matching hat, and a very cool 1940s print tie. Some customers came and went, and I heard one of the women behind the counter address one of them in a slow drawl: "You come in and get yourself an ice cream." Spontaneously, the three Williamses began singing a cappella country gospel music. I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven myself. Trying not to disturb them, I picked up a guitar that was lying on a nearby table, and played one string, searching for the bass notes.
Once their sing-along was though, Hank ventured across the street to a tiny recording studio. He had a song to sing, and he was convinced that it could be the beginning of his comeback on the charts. The owner of the studio was more than happy to record the session, even though Hank said, "But I ain't got any money." The owner didn't seem to care. He set up a tall microphone that stood on a small stage. Hank began to warm up, and the door opened. It was a local preacher, a black man, who was angry. He said, "You stop that! You stop that right now! It's after 6 o'clock [at night]!" Apparently he thought what Hank was doing was sacrilegious. (It must have been the Sabbath.) He was calmed down and he left, but little did he know -- Hank was just getting started.
The producer had begun recording, but was still adjusting the mike stand on his small stage when Hank hopped up and began to sing. He had picked up a .22 rifle, and shot two bullets into the floor, then shot two more into the ceiling as part of his intro. I was shocked, but the producer didn't seem fazed at all. (The locals knew Hank was crazy.) He proceeded to belt out his new tune, and it was a humdinger, all right. After it was over, the producer stood in awe and said, "That ran about a minute and a half over," but still, he was sure it would be a hit, and so was I.
*****
I've seen a box set of Hank Williams' music which came out in the last decade; the cover features a black and white photo of Williams in a suit, hat and tie, and he's holding a guitar. I must have gotten his outfit from that photograph. I've also heard several radio transcriptions of Williams performing gospel tunes at the Grand Ole Opry. He was an astounding guy. How could someone who was so uneducated and so inarticulate write and sing such incredible music? It's almost miraculous.
That was one of the best dreams ever. It was almost like a short film. By the way, if I'm not mistaken, when Williams was recording in the 1940s, I think that they were cutting discs instead of recording onto tape. That may be why the producer said that he "ran over." Maybe Hank went on past the amount of time to cut the lacquer. Then again, if Hank was recording in the mid-50s, it would have been past the time that Elvis and the boys were recording on tape. Incidentally, I can only think of two recordings off the top of my head that feature simulated (drum-beat) gunshots: "Shot Gun Boogie" by Tennessee Ernie Ford, and "I Fought the Law" by The Bobby Fuller Four.
I was in Virginia, and one of my brother Andrew's friends was visiting the house. He noticed my CD collection, and mentioned that he was going over to a store called the RTX (Record and Tape Exchange) to sell some of his CDs, and if I wanted, he could sell some of mine, as well. I said, "No thanks. But I know the RTX, too. I haven't been there in a while, so I'll have to pay them a visit." Next, I was in the RTX, and they began playing the most amazing disc. I said, "What is that?" They explained that it was a recently-uncovered trove of heretofore unheard Hank Williams music. (Hank Sr., of course.)
Suddenly, I was in Alabama in the mid-to-late 1950s, in a quiet general store run by two white-haired older women in Hank Williams' family. To my surprise, Hank hadn't died at 29 in the back of his car; there he was, standing at the end of the wooden counter, hanging out, dreaming of his comeback. He looked as thin and dissipated as ever, yet he wore a sharp light brown suit and with matching hat, and a very cool 1940s print tie. Some customers came and went, and I heard one of the women behind the counter address one of them in a slow drawl: "You come in and get yourself an ice cream." Spontaneously, the three Williamses began singing a cappella country gospel music. I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven myself. Trying not to disturb them, I picked up a guitar that was lying on a nearby table, and played one string, searching for the bass notes.
Once their sing-along was though, Hank ventured across the street to a tiny recording studio. He had a song to sing, and he was convinced that it could be the beginning of his comeback on the charts. The owner of the studio was more than happy to record the session, even though Hank said, "But I ain't got any money." The owner didn't seem to care. He set up a tall microphone that stood on a small stage. Hank began to warm up, and the door opened. It was a local preacher, a black man, who was angry. He said, "You stop that! You stop that right now! It's after 6 o'clock [at night]!" Apparently he thought what Hank was doing was sacrilegious. (It must have been the Sabbath.) He was calmed down and he left, but little did he know -- Hank was just getting started.
The producer had begun recording, but was still adjusting the mike stand on his small stage when Hank hopped up and began to sing. He had picked up a .22 rifle, and shot two bullets into the floor, then shot two more into the ceiling as part of his intro. I was shocked, but the producer didn't seem fazed at all. (The locals knew Hank was crazy.) He proceeded to belt out his new tune, and it was a humdinger, all right. After it was over, the producer stood in awe and said, "That ran about a minute and a half over," but still, he was sure it would be a hit, and so was I.
*****
I've seen a box set of Hank Williams' music which came out in the last decade; the cover features a black and white photo of Williams in a suit, hat and tie, and he's holding a guitar. I must have gotten his outfit from that photograph. I've also heard several radio transcriptions of Williams performing gospel tunes at the Grand Ole Opry. He was an astounding guy. How could someone who was so uneducated and so inarticulate write and sing such incredible music? It's almost miraculous.
That was one of the best dreams ever. It was almost like a short film. By the way, if I'm not mistaken, when Williams was recording in the 1940s, I think that they were cutting discs instead of recording onto tape. That may be why the producer said that he "ran over." Maybe Hank went on past the amount of time to cut the lacquer. Then again, if Hank was recording in the mid-50s, it would have been past the time that Elvis and the boys were recording on tape. Incidentally, I can only think of two recordings off the top of my head that feature simulated (drum-beat) gunshots: "Shot Gun Boogie" by Tennessee Ernie Ford, and "I Fought the Law" by The Bobby Fuller Four.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Blowing the Budget
Wednesday night
I was in charge of managing produce at two small, mom and pop grocery stores. I wanted to keep quality high, but wanted to keep unnecessary costs down, as well. I thought I had it all under control, and was standing outside one of the the shops when the food was delivered -- in a big black Cadillac. I stood there, perplexed and flummoxed. How the hell did that happen?
*****
My coworkers and I often discuss the produce that is available at the new Whole Foods Market here in Nashville. It's definitely a cut above the choices at the other neighborhood grocery stores. And yesterday a sales rep was discussing "mom and pop" stores on her route. These thoughts seemed to have merged to create this dream. As for the sudden appearance of the Cadillac, it probably refers to the fact that I'm currently responsible for herding together some people and projects at work which are out of my control, and it's stressing me out. No matter how hard I try to plan things, I really don't know what might, or might not, happen.
I was in charge of managing produce at two small, mom and pop grocery stores. I wanted to keep quality high, but wanted to keep unnecessary costs down, as well. I thought I had it all under control, and was standing outside one of the the shops when the food was delivered -- in a big black Cadillac. I stood there, perplexed and flummoxed. How the hell did that happen?
*****
My coworkers and I often discuss the produce that is available at the new Whole Foods Market here in Nashville. It's definitely a cut above the choices at the other neighborhood grocery stores. And yesterday a sales rep was discussing "mom and pop" stores on her route. These thoughts seemed to have merged to create this dream. As for the sudden appearance of the Cadillac, it probably refers to the fact that I'm currently responsible for herding together some people and projects at work which are out of my control, and it's stressing me out. No matter how hard I try to plan things, I really don't know what might, or might not, happen.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Roosters
Tuesday night
I was wandering in a record store when I came across a treasure trove: two big boxes of picture-sleeve singles, lined up back-to-back for easy browsing. I began sorting through them, looking for some 45s to add to my collection. About halfway through the first box, I found a real rarity, and couldn't believe my luck. It was a four-song 45 r.p.m. e.p. (extended-play single) by a punk band called The Roosters, and it had been manufactured by the group itself, in an extremely limited quantity. The cover was made of white card stock, and featured black type and graphics that looked as though they had been created with a Xerox machine. The record contained two punky covers of rock and roll oldies, and two original songs. The sleeve was still shrink-wrapped, but it had been in the box forever, so the plastic was open at the top. The photos on the back cover were amateurish at best, and betrayed the boys' sense of humor. One of them was shown in a side-view, posed bent over and pantless, with a large feather duster rubber-banded to his bum, feathers pointed toward the ceiling. (That was his rooster tail, in case anyone missed the point.)
In any case, the most exciting thing about this find was that The Roosters later morphed into a more polished pop-rock band called "Fountains of Wayne." I was holding their first record in my hands, and it was quite a rarity. What was even better was that the record store didn't know what it had; the sticker on the back of the sleeve was priced at $1.10. I thought, "Well, I can bring this home and add it to my collection, or maybe I'll sell it on e-bay for $1,000. Either way, I win."
*****
I am a fan of Fountains of Wayne, but, unfortunately, their alter-ego, The Roosters, are a figment of my imagination. Lord knows where that feather duster idea came from. What a hoot!
I sure did like shopping for records, evidenced by this dream, as well as "Collection" (11/12/07), "45s" (9/26/07) and "Vinyl Days" (8/28/07). I also used to enjoy going to record conventions, and was always hoping to find a rarity or two. This dream was probably inspired by my searches for early singles by major bands before they made it big, such as R.E.M.'s first pressing of "Radio Free Europe" on the Hib-Tone label, or the Police's little-known debut single, "Fallout/ Nothing Achieving."
I was wandering in a record store when I came across a treasure trove: two big boxes of picture-sleeve singles, lined up back-to-back for easy browsing. I began sorting through them, looking for some 45s to add to my collection. About halfway through the first box, I found a real rarity, and couldn't believe my luck. It was a four-song 45 r.p.m. e.p. (extended-play single) by a punk band called The Roosters, and it had been manufactured by the group itself, in an extremely limited quantity. The cover was made of white card stock, and featured black type and graphics that looked as though they had been created with a Xerox machine. The record contained two punky covers of rock and roll oldies, and two original songs. The sleeve was still shrink-wrapped, but it had been in the box forever, so the plastic was open at the top. The photos on the back cover were amateurish at best, and betrayed the boys' sense of humor. One of them was shown in a side-view, posed bent over and pantless, with a large feather duster rubber-banded to his bum, feathers pointed toward the ceiling. (That was his rooster tail, in case anyone missed the point.)
In any case, the most exciting thing about this find was that The Roosters later morphed into a more polished pop-rock band called "Fountains of Wayne." I was holding their first record in my hands, and it was quite a rarity. What was even better was that the record store didn't know what it had; the sticker on the back of the sleeve was priced at $1.10. I thought, "Well, I can bring this home and add it to my collection, or maybe I'll sell it on e-bay for $1,000. Either way, I win."
*****
I am a fan of Fountains of Wayne, but, unfortunately, their alter-ego, The Roosters, are a figment of my imagination. Lord knows where that feather duster idea came from. What a hoot!
I sure did like shopping for records, evidenced by this dream, as well as "Collection" (11/12/07), "45s" (9/26/07) and "Vinyl Days" (8/28/07). I also used to enjoy going to record conventions, and was always hoping to find a rarity or two. This dream was probably inspired by my searches for early singles by major bands before they made it big, such as R.E.M.'s first pressing of "Radio Free Europe" on the Hib-Tone label, or the Police's little-known debut single, "Fallout/ Nothing Achieving."
Monday, February 18, 2008
The Joke's on You
Sunday night
I was watching a new reality show which featured a number of starving rock bands that specialized in 1980s music. They had all been led to believe that they were competing for a recording contract, but in "reality," the point was to abuse, exhaust and make fun of them for the amusement of the audience. One group had a lead singer in the Pat Benatar mold who didn't take well to a surprise 6 a.m. dance class.
*****
Hmm. Sort of a cross between "American Idol" and "Survivor." You know, this is no more implausible than any number of crappy reality shows on the tube now.
I was watching a new reality show which featured a number of starving rock bands that specialized in 1980s music. They had all been led to believe that they were competing for a recording contract, but in "reality," the point was to abuse, exhaust and make fun of them for the amusement of the audience. One group had a lead singer in the Pat Benatar mold who didn't take well to a surprise 6 a.m. dance class.
*****
Hmm. Sort of a cross between "American Idol" and "Survivor." You know, this is no more implausible than any number of crappy reality shows on the tube now.
Trying to Break Free
Saturday night
I was visiting with my friend, Preston, at his house, but I was preoccupied and doing things that were out of character. I picked up one of his spiral notebooks and began doodling on it. Next, I found a book that he had about the late singer Bob Marley, and personalized it to him by signing a fake Marley autograph on the cover. Preston was understandably surprised by my actions. I apologized, told him that I wasn't myself, and promised to get him new copies of both items.
For some time I'd had dealings with a charismatic, powerful young man, and I was pretty sure that he was involved in some nefarious business dealings, if not outright criminal activity. I had to go meet with him next, and was wondering how I'd extricate myself from him, once and for all. He was a complicated guy. While I was fairly certain that he was engaged in criminal enterprises, I also saw how well he seemed to treat his friends and employees, opening his home to them and their families. I owed the guy some money, and I was concerned about it. I headed over to his apartment.
I walked through the front door, and found the place buzzing with activity. I passed a Ping-Pong table in the living room, where a black man was having a game with his two young daughters. Next, I came across a lower table where the host was seated with a group of Mexican children. They were playing a game, or possibly working on some sort of crafts. He noticed me, looked up, and said, "You look worried. Let's talk." We walked over to the dining room and sat down at a table. I was a little afraid of him. I began, "It's just that I owe you all this money..." He said, "Family members pay each other back over years. You don't have to pay it all now." I said, "Well, I just got paid, so I have the money for the CDs and DVDs; I just need to go by an ATM machine. And I've got the $100 you gave me to get you the stereo, and I thought I'd pay that back to you now." He smiled, but he was serious. He said calmly, "But I delegated that to you." I squirmed a little and said, "Well, here's the thing. When I bought my own stereo, I got something to play my CDs, and a pair of headphones. I never had to think that much about playback [through speakers]." (In other words, I don't really know what I'm doing.) So, if you still want me to buy it for you, you'll have to take what you get."
At that point, several adult white people passed through the dining room on the way out to the backyard. They must have been out there earlier; they wore jeans and T-shirts, and their clothes were covered with brown dust. They all wore white chalk on their faces. Apparently they had been involved in some elaborate tribal game outside, presumably with more kids. Sensing that our conversation about money was over, the host stood up, pointed toward the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, and announced, "And now, [CPC] will help decorate!"
*****
The main character in this dream isn't based on anyone that I know, but may be an amalgam of any of a number of charismatic criminals from movies or TV shows. This dream had a pretty strong narrative drive to it, showing how the bad guy can be charming if you're on his side, but pretty scary if you cross him, or try to extricate yourself from his circle.
The days of the $100 stereo are long gone, I'm afraid.
I lost my job in 2005, and went through a fairly rough time in 2006, after my severance pay ran out. I was temping for several months, and took a big cut in pay. My brother Drew wanted me to keep coming up for the poker tournaments, so he paid for a couple of my trips back home out of pocket. Now that I'm back on my feet, I'm sending him regular payments to knock that debt down. He has told me over and over again not to worry about it, that we're family, and I could pay him back in the old folks home, for all he cares. Still, it's important to me, not only for my own self-esteem, but also to show good faith in him, that I pay him something every month, and that's what I'm doing. That's why the bit about debt between family members filtered into this dream. Now, as for the tribal games in the yard... ?
I was visiting with my friend, Preston, at his house, but I was preoccupied and doing things that were out of character. I picked up one of his spiral notebooks and began doodling on it. Next, I found a book that he had about the late singer Bob Marley, and personalized it to him by signing a fake Marley autograph on the cover. Preston was understandably surprised by my actions. I apologized, told him that I wasn't myself, and promised to get him new copies of both items.
For some time I'd had dealings with a charismatic, powerful young man, and I was pretty sure that he was involved in some nefarious business dealings, if not outright criminal activity. I had to go meet with him next, and was wondering how I'd extricate myself from him, once and for all. He was a complicated guy. While I was fairly certain that he was engaged in criminal enterprises, I also saw how well he seemed to treat his friends and employees, opening his home to them and their families. I owed the guy some money, and I was concerned about it. I headed over to his apartment.
I walked through the front door, and found the place buzzing with activity. I passed a Ping-Pong table in the living room, where a black man was having a game with his two young daughters. Next, I came across a lower table where the host was seated with a group of Mexican children. They were playing a game, or possibly working on some sort of crafts. He noticed me, looked up, and said, "You look worried. Let's talk." We walked over to the dining room and sat down at a table. I was a little afraid of him. I began, "It's just that I owe you all this money..." He said, "Family members pay each other back over years. You don't have to pay it all now." I said, "Well, I just got paid, so I have the money for the CDs and DVDs; I just need to go by an ATM machine. And I've got the $100 you gave me to get you the stereo, and I thought I'd pay that back to you now." He smiled, but he was serious. He said calmly, "But I delegated that to you." I squirmed a little and said, "Well, here's the thing. When I bought my own stereo, I got something to play my CDs, and a pair of headphones. I never had to think that much about playback [through speakers]." (In other words, I don't really know what I'm doing.) So, if you still want me to buy it for you, you'll have to take what you get."
At that point, several adult white people passed through the dining room on the way out to the backyard. They must have been out there earlier; they wore jeans and T-shirts, and their clothes were covered with brown dust. They all wore white chalk on their faces. Apparently they had been involved in some elaborate tribal game outside, presumably with more kids. Sensing that our conversation about money was over, the host stood up, pointed toward the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, and announced, "And now, [CPC] will help decorate!"
*****
The main character in this dream isn't based on anyone that I know, but may be an amalgam of any of a number of charismatic criminals from movies or TV shows. This dream had a pretty strong narrative drive to it, showing how the bad guy can be charming if you're on his side, but pretty scary if you cross him, or try to extricate yourself from his circle.
The days of the $100 stereo are long gone, I'm afraid.
I lost my job in 2005, and went through a fairly rough time in 2006, after my severance pay ran out. I was temping for several months, and took a big cut in pay. My brother Drew wanted me to keep coming up for the poker tournaments, so he paid for a couple of my trips back home out of pocket. Now that I'm back on my feet, I'm sending him regular payments to knock that debt down. He has told me over and over again not to worry about it, that we're family, and I could pay him back in the old folks home, for all he cares. Still, it's important to me, not only for my own self-esteem, but also to show good faith in him, that I pay him something every month, and that's what I'm doing. That's why the bit about debt between family members filtered into this dream. Now, as for the tribal games in the yard... ?
Crash / The Silly Vicar
Friday night
Dream 1: Crash
I was in Virginia, and I'd borrowed Dad's car. I was driving near Tyson's Corner when somebody ran headlong into my right front quarter panel. My first thought was, "Man, I'm so glad I wasn't driving our new car," but I was still plenty P.O.'ed about what had been done to Dad's. I got out of the car and saw that the offending driver, a young guy, maybe 19 or so, had put his car in reverse, and was planning to flee the scene. I knew I'd have to prove who he was, so I looked down and noticed that he had a temporary tag for a license plate. I promptly snatched it. Thinking that I needed more evidence, I somehow climbed into the back seat of his car without his knowledge. He took off, and I began rifling through his belongings, grabbing papers and maps and stuff for evidence. He stopped at a light and I got out and ran into a Taco Bell, yelling, "Call 911! Call 911!" The driver ran in after me, and immediately went about convincing the customers that I was crazy. One lady was taking his side already. I wanted to defend myself, but decided that it would be best not to say anything until the police arrived. Finally, a detective showed up, and led us over to a booth. The three of us sat down, and he asked us for our versions of what had happened. I spoke first, and when I explained that the guy had hit my car, the cop agreed. He looked at the other driver and said, "You did hit his car. I've seen the photographs." But then he looked at me and explained that I'd transgressed, too, by removing the other driver's possessions. We both had to end up admitting guilt.
*****
Dream 2: The Silly Vicar
My wife and I were in England, and we were about to be married outdoors on a nice, lush, green lawn, surrounded by trees. The priest and I both wore black; she wore white. The vicar reached out to shake her hand, and as he did so, his arm extended all the way to the ground. He had a long, fake rubber arm and an expanding sleeve, which I thought was hilarious. I turned to my wife and said, "That's FUNNY! Don't you think that's funny?!" She didn't.
*****
Dream 1: Crash
Well, that sucks. I guess I had to end up paying for the damage to the car anyway.
By the way, the car that I was driving was my parents' old Mercury Comet, circa 1962, with fins in the back. The detective was Carlos A. He was a sales rep who used to work for my current employer. He left last summer. I never liked him much. He was not a conscientious person.
Dream 1: Crash
I was in Virginia, and I'd borrowed Dad's car. I was driving near Tyson's Corner when somebody ran headlong into my right front quarter panel. My first thought was, "Man, I'm so glad I wasn't driving our new car," but I was still plenty P.O.'ed about what had been done to Dad's. I got out of the car and saw that the offending driver, a young guy, maybe 19 or so, had put his car in reverse, and was planning to flee the scene. I knew I'd have to prove who he was, so I looked down and noticed that he had a temporary tag for a license plate. I promptly snatched it. Thinking that I needed more evidence, I somehow climbed into the back seat of his car without his knowledge. He took off, and I began rifling through his belongings, grabbing papers and maps and stuff for evidence. He stopped at a light and I got out and ran into a Taco Bell, yelling, "Call 911! Call 911!" The driver ran in after me, and immediately went about convincing the customers that I was crazy. One lady was taking his side already. I wanted to defend myself, but decided that it would be best not to say anything until the police arrived. Finally, a detective showed up, and led us over to a booth. The three of us sat down, and he asked us for our versions of what had happened. I spoke first, and when I explained that the guy had hit my car, the cop agreed. He looked at the other driver and said, "You did hit his car. I've seen the photographs." But then he looked at me and explained that I'd transgressed, too, by removing the other driver's possessions. We both had to end up admitting guilt.
*****
Dream 2: The Silly Vicar
My wife and I were in England, and we were about to be married outdoors on a nice, lush, green lawn, surrounded by trees. The priest and I both wore black; she wore white. The vicar reached out to shake her hand, and as he did so, his arm extended all the way to the ground. He had a long, fake rubber arm and an expanding sleeve, which I thought was hilarious. I turned to my wife and said, "That's FUNNY! Don't you think that's funny?!" She didn't.
*****
Dream 1: Crash
Well, that sucks. I guess I had to end up paying for the damage to the car anyway.
By the way, the car that I was driving was my parents' old Mercury Comet, circa 1962, with fins in the back. The detective was Carlos A. He was a sales rep who used to work for my current employer. He left last summer. I never liked him much. He was not a conscientious person.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Doin' My Time
Thursday night
I'd been busted for D.W.I., and was sentenced to 30 days in jail. Some of my friends, including Eddie M., had heard about it, and I was embarrassed. Fortunately for me, I got to serve my sentence in a grocery store. My twin brother Andrew was there, too, along with all of the other orange-suited guys, but it's not clear whether he had his own run-in with the law, or if he was simply there for moral support. I had a pretty good setup in the back of the store: a mattress, a red bedspread, and a couple of pillows. My stufff was in the horizontal aisle, near the left corner, next to the meat and cheese. Andrew was carrying around a dingy black and white-striped mattress that had seen better days, and set it down on one of the vertical aisles. I told him that he could drop it and bunk with me. I'd noticed that a bunch of tough-looking black dudes were congregating at the end of the aisle on the far right, so I figured I'd make a point of walking down there to meet them. After all, we'd be neighbors for awhile.
*****
I've never been sent to jail, but if I am, it won't be for D.W.I.
That mattress that Andrew was carrying was the cot that used to be in Mom and Dad's basement playroom. Later, I took it with me to the townhouse on Hyson Lane in Falls Church.
Once upon a time I would have described myself as a person with some prejudice against blacks -- which I was fighting against. I grew up in an all-white neighborhood which gradually included some people of other races, but no blacks that I can recall. My elementary school was integrated by forced busing in the early 1970s, and I did befriend some of those kids from South Arlington, but never really knew them. Later, like many white suburbanites, I suppose that the crack wars between some young black men in the District of Columbia scared me to death, and made me want to stay where I was, in my "safety zone." But the thing you learn when you get older is that prejudice is rooted in stupid assumptions that people make about people or things that they don't know, or know little about. Luckily for me, I worked for 10 years at a foundation that introduced me to all sorts of wonderful people: blacks, whites, Asians, straights, gays, folks from other countries. And I learned that once you meet a person from a demographic and get to know them, it's no longer some bullshit concept, it's a person; an individual -- someone who, as Dr. King said, should be judged not by the color of his skin, but by the content of his character. This seems so obvious that it shouldn't need to be stated, but I'm a living example that someone can grow and become smarter as he ages. I see my life now as a flawed attempt to reach toward some sort of progressive enlightenment. And I'm convinced that the only way people will get that enlightenment is to travel around the country and the world, meet new people, see how others do things, and then make up their own mind(s).
So, now I make a point of engaging folks who don't look like me, particularly at work. I try to make the extra effort to get to know them as individuals; it's really cool for both of us, as we become one more pair of people fighting for a truly colorblind society.
One more confession: at the foundation where I used to work, I realized that I still harbored a bias, but it wasn't one that I had previously discovered. I wasn't uncomfortable with any particular race (or sexual orientation). Instead, I found that I had then, and have now, a level of discomfort with those who are in a significantly lower economic bracket, and lower level of education. That's the real story. As I read in a magazine once, "People think that there's a racial divide in this country. In reality, there isn't -- there's an economic divide." I really think there's something to that. I'm not saying that it's right that I wince when I'm near folks who butcher the language -- it may not be entirely their fault -- but if I have any lingering prejudice these days, that's probably it. I've gotta work on that. One shouldn't make assumptions about those folks, either, and I suppose that I do that all the time.
I'd been busted for D.W.I., and was sentenced to 30 days in jail. Some of my friends, including Eddie M., had heard about it, and I was embarrassed. Fortunately for me, I got to serve my sentence in a grocery store. My twin brother Andrew was there, too, along with all of the other orange-suited guys, but it's not clear whether he had his own run-in with the law, or if he was simply there for moral support. I had a pretty good setup in the back of the store: a mattress, a red bedspread, and a couple of pillows. My stufff was in the horizontal aisle, near the left corner, next to the meat and cheese. Andrew was carrying around a dingy black and white-striped mattress that had seen better days, and set it down on one of the vertical aisles. I told him that he could drop it and bunk with me. I'd noticed that a bunch of tough-looking black dudes were congregating at the end of the aisle on the far right, so I figured I'd make a point of walking down there to meet them. After all, we'd be neighbors for awhile.
*****
I've never been sent to jail, but if I am, it won't be for D.W.I.
That mattress that Andrew was carrying was the cot that used to be in Mom and Dad's basement playroom. Later, I took it with me to the townhouse on Hyson Lane in Falls Church.
Once upon a time I would have described myself as a person with some prejudice against blacks -- which I was fighting against. I grew up in an all-white neighborhood which gradually included some people of other races, but no blacks that I can recall. My elementary school was integrated by forced busing in the early 1970s, and I did befriend some of those kids from South Arlington, but never really knew them. Later, like many white suburbanites, I suppose that the crack wars between some young black men in the District of Columbia scared me to death, and made me want to stay where I was, in my "safety zone." But the thing you learn when you get older is that prejudice is rooted in stupid assumptions that people make about people or things that they don't know, or know little about. Luckily for me, I worked for 10 years at a foundation that introduced me to all sorts of wonderful people: blacks, whites, Asians, straights, gays, folks from other countries. And I learned that once you meet a person from a demographic and get to know them, it's no longer some bullshit concept, it's a person; an individual -- someone who, as Dr. King said, should be judged not by the color of his skin, but by the content of his character. This seems so obvious that it shouldn't need to be stated, but I'm a living example that someone can grow and become smarter as he ages. I see my life now as a flawed attempt to reach toward some sort of progressive enlightenment. And I'm convinced that the only way people will get that enlightenment is to travel around the country and the world, meet new people, see how others do things, and then make up their own mind(s).
So, now I make a point of engaging folks who don't look like me, particularly at work. I try to make the extra effort to get to know them as individuals; it's really cool for both of us, as we become one more pair of people fighting for a truly colorblind society.
One more confession: at the foundation where I used to work, I realized that I still harbored a bias, but it wasn't one that I had previously discovered. I wasn't uncomfortable with any particular race (or sexual orientation). Instead, I found that I had then, and have now, a level of discomfort with those who are in a significantly lower economic bracket, and lower level of education. That's the real story. As I read in a magazine once, "People think that there's a racial divide in this country. In reality, there isn't -- there's an economic divide." I really think there's something to that. I'm not saying that it's right that I wince when I'm near folks who butcher the language -- it may not be entirely their fault -- but if I have any lingering prejudice these days, that's probably it. I've gotta work on that. One shouldn't make assumptions about those folks, either, and I suppose that I do that all the time.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Scuttlebucket
Wednesday night
I was down in Georgia visiting with former president Jimmy Carter, his wife Rosalynn, and their grown daughter, Amy. They lived in a large stone house from the turn of the last century. It was whitewashed, but the paint was peeling in a few places. Their dog, a friendly Irish Setter, ran to and fro in the street, which was quiet and deserted, at least for the moment. Later, we went for a walk in some nearby woods, and a member of our party called out, "What is that?!" I turned to see an ordinary metal bucket, turned upside down, scurrying across the forest floor. I walked over, picked it up, and found two adorable black, furry mammals inside, staring up at me. They were nondescript, so I wasn't sure what they were -- puppies? bears? hedgehogs? -- but they sure were cute. I said, "There you go, guys," thinking that I was doing them a favor. As soon as I said so, the critter who was slightly larger than the other crawled back under the bucket, and continued in the direction that he was originally headed.
*****
The Carters do live in Plains, Ga, but I've never seen a photo of their house, and don't know if they have a dog. Our old neighbors on 34th Street, the Depaus, (Depaws?) did own an Irish Setter. Beautiful dog. I haven't seen them (or their dog) in at least 30 years.
I never met President Carter, but my family did go to a Carter rally in Old Town, Alexandria in the fall of 1976, shortly before Carter beat President Ford. I was 14 at the time. I asked my dad if we could go, and he said yes. I recall that Admiral Elmo Zumwalt made a speech that day. He had crazy eyebrows. My brother Andrew and I snuck under the rope line to get around the crowd, and then stepped back behind the rope once we were directly in front of the podium. I doubt that we could get away with such shenanigans today. Much later I sent a photo that I took that day down to Plains, and former president Carter autographed it for me and sent it back. I think I still have it in a photo album somewhere in the storage unit.
I wonder what that bucket thing was about?
I was down in Georgia visiting with former president Jimmy Carter, his wife Rosalynn, and their grown daughter, Amy. They lived in a large stone house from the turn of the last century. It was whitewashed, but the paint was peeling in a few places. Their dog, a friendly Irish Setter, ran to and fro in the street, which was quiet and deserted, at least for the moment. Later, we went for a walk in some nearby woods, and a member of our party called out, "What is that?!" I turned to see an ordinary metal bucket, turned upside down, scurrying across the forest floor. I walked over, picked it up, and found two adorable black, furry mammals inside, staring up at me. They were nondescript, so I wasn't sure what they were -- puppies? bears? hedgehogs? -- but they sure were cute. I said, "There you go, guys," thinking that I was doing them a favor. As soon as I said so, the critter who was slightly larger than the other crawled back under the bucket, and continued in the direction that he was originally headed.
*****
The Carters do live in Plains, Ga, but I've never seen a photo of their house, and don't know if they have a dog. Our old neighbors on 34th Street, the Depaus, (Depaws?) did own an Irish Setter. Beautiful dog. I haven't seen them (or their dog) in at least 30 years.
I never met President Carter, but my family did go to a Carter rally in Old Town, Alexandria in the fall of 1976, shortly before Carter beat President Ford. I was 14 at the time. I asked my dad if we could go, and he said yes. I recall that Admiral Elmo Zumwalt made a speech that day. He had crazy eyebrows. My brother Andrew and I snuck under the rope line to get around the crowd, and then stepped back behind the rope once we were directly in front of the podium. I doubt that we could get away with such shenanigans today. Much later I sent a photo that I took that day down to Plains, and former president Carter autographed it for me and sent it back. I think I still have it in a photo album somewhere in the storage unit.
I wonder what that bucket thing was about?
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Italian Interruption
Monday night
I was vacationing by myself in Italy, and found, to my delight, that my friend Steve S. was going to be there at the same time. I met up with him in a beautiful courtyard, or piazza, surrounded by historic buildings, including a majestic cathedral. All was swell until I suddenly had to go to the bathroom. I excused myself, and had to run all the way around the cathedral, down some steps, through a few doors, and then up some more interior steps till I located a rest room just in time. The toilet was in the lobby of a nice hotel, near the concierge desk. It seemed to be up on a riser, and was enclosed by some oval walls, but if I stood, people could have seen my head, and they probably could see my feet and hear me, if they tried. The guy who was working the desk was a black man, wearing an exotic costume. At first I thought he was a Beefeater, but soon realized that he was dressed as a Vatican guard, with the fancy helmet and everything. I saw him walk outside to give someone directions, and fully expected him to speak Italian, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that he spoke English; he was an American, too.
*****
The whole embarrasing bathroom thing aside, what could be better than meeting a friend in an exotic locale around the world? I've only had this experience once, and it didn't really involve a friend of mine. I accompanied my future wife on a trip to Finland, and our trip coincided with a seminar in Helsinki that would be attended by some of her former coworkers in Maryland. We went to a restaurant and had a very pleasant time, as my wife caught up with them. The only strange thing was that we were all a very long way from home. I thought, "How grand is this? If only we, and our friends, had the money to get together around the globe." "See you in Amsterdam!"
I was vacationing by myself in Italy, and found, to my delight, that my friend Steve S. was going to be there at the same time. I met up with him in a beautiful courtyard, or piazza, surrounded by historic buildings, including a majestic cathedral. All was swell until I suddenly had to go to the bathroom. I excused myself, and had to run all the way around the cathedral, down some steps, through a few doors, and then up some more interior steps till I located a rest room just in time. The toilet was in the lobby of a nice hotel, near the concierge desk. It seemed to be up on a riser, and was enclosed by some oval walls, but if I stood, people could have seen my head, and they probably could see my feet and hear me, if they tried. The guy who was working the desk was a black man, wearing an exotic costume. At first I thought he was a Beefeater, but soon realized that he was dressed as a Vatican guard, with the fancy helmet and everything. I saw him walk outside to give someone directions, and fully expected him to speak Italian, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that he spoke English; he was an American, too.
*****
The whole embarrasing bathroom thing aside, what could be better than meeting a friend in an exotic locale around the world? I've only had this experience once, and it didn't really involve a friend of mine. I accompanied my future wife on a trip to Finland, and our trip coincided with a seminar in Helsinki that would be attended by some of her former coworkers in Maryland. We went to a restaurant and had a very pleasant time, as my wife caught up with them. The only strange thing was that we were all a very long way from home. I thought, "How grand is this? If only we, and our friends, had the money to get together around the globe." "See you in Amsterdam!"
What's Left
Sunday night
FDR had recently died, and I was standing in his bedroom in the White House, having a good look around. I saw all of the framed pictures on his walls, and then I looked at his night table, to the left of his bed. His eyeglasses were still there. I thought to myself, "These should go to [his] museum." To the left of his glasses I saw that he had been reading a three-volume paperback biography of Winston Churchill; one of the volumes was written by Robert F. Kennedy. Each book had a yellow cover, and they had a distinctive look, because all of them were taller than they were wide -- maybe 6 inches by 3 & 1/2 or 4 inches. I opened one of the books, and found that the inside cover and facing page featured a large photograph of a newspaper, announcing the end of the war in the Pacific. The headline read, "U.S. K.O.'s JAPS."
*****
An interesting dream, if jumbled historically. Churchill outlived FDR by 20 years or so, and Roosevelt did not live to see the end of the war. Robert Kennedy certainly knew a great deal about Churchill, and probably met him, since his father was U.S. Ambassador to England in the late 1930s. RFK and his family met with FDR the day of the president's second inauguration in 1937.
This dream may be dredging up some memories of home in Arlington. My dad had some paperbacks about World War II history that he kept in a table to the left of my parents' bed. At least one of them was "The Rise of the Third Reich" by William Shirer, but there was probably a book or two about Churchill, or maybe a copy of Churchill's history of the war...
FDR had recently died, and I was standing in his bedroom in the White House, having a good look around. I saw all of the framed pictures on his walls, and then I looked at his night table, to the left of his bed. His eyeglasses were still there. I thought to myself, "These should go to [his] museum." To the left of his glasses I saw that he had been reading a three-volume paperback biography of Winston Churchill; one of the volumes was written by Robert F. Kennedy. Each book had a yellow cover, and they had a distinctive look, because all of them were taller than they were wide -- maybe 6 inches by 3 & 1/2 or 4 inches. I opened one of the books, and found that the inside cover and facing page featured a large photograph of a newspaper, announcing the end of the war in the Pacific. The headline read, "U.S. K.O.'s JAPS."
*****
An interesting dream, if jumbled historically. Churchill outlived FDR by 20 years or so, and Roosevelt did not live to see the end of the war. Robert Kennedy certainly knew a great deal about Churchill, and probably met him, since his father was U.S. Ambassador to England in the late 1930s. RFK and his family met with FDR the day of the president's second inauguration in 1937.
This dream may be dredging up some memories of home in Arlington. My dad had some paperbacks about World War II history that he kept in a table to the left of my parents' bed. At least one of them was "The Rise of the Third Reich" by William Shirer, but there was probably a book or two about Churchill, or maybe a copy of Churchill's history of the war...
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Destruction / See 'n Say
Friday night
Dream 1: Destruction
Steven Tyler and Joe Perry of Aerosmith were at my parents' house, and were constructing a bomb. I was monitoring how things were going when they heard a noise; I figured that one of my folks was coming into the room, so they handed their project to me, and I placed it into the right pocket of my white terry cloth bathrobe. The bomb itself was round, the size of a baseball, and it had a fuse on top. It was pretty heavy, and had a sort of a rough metallic texture. Its color was a dark piney-green. I walked out the front door and around the yard to my left, with my hands in my pockets. I stopped and stared at what remained of the new-er addition to the house, the part that had extended further into the yard from the family room and basement playroom. That large section of the house had been smashed to bits, destroyed in a recent tornado, but the original part of the house (well, the part dating back to 1968) seemed to be unscathed. My mom looked out of the family room window and spoke to me. She didn't seem upset about the turn of events. Evidently, she'd already come to grips with the situation, and was simply happy that no one had been hurt. She marveled at how the storm had destroyed that part of the house, but had left the telephone poles standing, and the wires in place.
*****
Dream 2: See 'n Say
It was Christmastime, and my wife and I were at Gordon and Barbara's house, visiting with them and our friends Ed and Dawn. We were exchanging Christmas presents, and Gordon said that he had one more thing for me. He knows that I love old Hot Wheels cars and Christmas in general, so he usually gives me a neat retro Hot Wheels ornament. This time he had something different up his sleeve. He reached into a Christmas bag and handed me a round, vintage See 'n Say, a beloved educational toy from my childhood. This one had a plastic "dial" in the front, featuring a toucan. I was delighted and turned to my wife and said, "Look, Honey! It's the Fruit Loops bird!"
*****
Dream 1: Destruction
This was a weird one, but I know where I got some of these ideas. For the record, let me state that I've never met the two gentlemen from Aerosmith, and the bit about bomb making is completely fictional. I'm sure that they are very nice people, and neither they nor I want to bomb, or hurt anyone, or anything.
Believe it or not, the rounded, heavy pine-green bomb in this dream is based on none other than an emu egg. You read that right. Whole Foods has just opened a fancy grocery store here in Nashville (which we adore) and the other night we were buying fresh produce when I noticed that they were selling emu eggs. I had never seen an emu egg before in my life. I picked one up to get a closer look. It was a beautiful dark green, and quite heavy. It wasn't round; rather, it was the size of a small football. For some odd reason, I thought it was rather unique, and a feeling came over me that it was a crime to eat such a thing. Of course, that didn't stop me from eating the chicken that we bought that day. Still, it seemed a shame to me to eat something so special, so unusual. What would one do with it, anyway? Make the world's largest omelet?
Last Tuesday (the evening of Super Tuesday) a rash of deadly storms blew through Arkansas and Tennessee, killing 54 people, the last I'd heard. It was a very scary night. Several different bands of terrifying bad weather passed to our north and south from 6:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. We had to spend a good deal of time sitting huddled in our basement with our cat, listening to the radio, with a lantern at the ready. Winds were whipping around the house, lightning and thunder were crashing, and the tornado siren was blaring almost constantly. I wasn't worried so much that the tornado would come down our street, but I was plenty concerned that a large tree or branch would fall on our roof or our car. Fortunately, that didn't happen, and we made it through unharmed. People in Jackson, Tennessee weren't so lucky. One of my coworkers e-mailed me several photos showing destruction of dorm rooms at Union College, and of havoc wreaked in the parking lot. Cars were literally picked up, turned over and tossed on top of each other. Those ripped up dorms became the destroyed extra addition on my parents' house in this dream.
The "extra-addition" to Mom and Dad's old house as outlined in this dream does not exist. Dad sold the house around 2001, and, as far as I know, the new owners built up (on top of the old "family room") but did not build farther out. I'd like to think that this dream simply combined the emu egg and the tornado into a bizarre story, but since the destruction in the dream only affected later additions to the house (theoretically made after the kids moved out), there's a possibility that it represents some hidden, residual resentment or anger that someone else is messing with the floor plan of "our" house. Jeez, I hope not. I have no conscious feelings in that regard. After all, it never really was "my" house to begin with. I just lived there. After reading this dream again, I got the sense that three of us could be seen as plotting to destroy any addition to the house that didn't correspond to the house of my childhood. That's the way it looks, but there was no sense that we destroyed the addition ourselves. The weather did it, and there was no implication about what we, or they, were doing with that project of theirs. In any case, it was disturbing.
*****
Dream 2: See n' Say
Once again, my age is showing. Isn't it amazing how this stuff is packed away in our brains, just waiting for a chance to come out and play? See 'n Say was a wonderful toy that I had when I was young. You'd pull a string and the character in the middle would spin around until it pointed to an animal or a word, etc., then the toy would tell you something about it. The most famous version featured a farmer, and the famous line, "the cow says: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I don't recall having a version that featured a toucan in the middle, but maybe such a thing existed. Fruit Loops was a cereal that we ate at our house from time to time. It was introduced by Kellog's in 1963. Its mascot, of course, was Toucan Sam. The first See 'n Say was brought out by Mattel in 1965. I always loved the thing, but couldn't remember what it was called till I described it to my wife this morning. She knew right away.
Dream 1: Destruction
Steven Tyler and Joe Perry of Aerosmith were at my parents' house, and were constructing a bomb. I was monitoring how things were going when they heard a noise; I figured that one of my folks was coming into the room, so they handed their project to me, and I placed it into the right pocket of my white terry cloth bathrobe. The bomb itself was round, the size of a baseball, and it had a fuse on top. It was pretty heavy, and had a sort of a rough metallic texture. Its color was a dark piney-green. I walked out the front door and around the yard to my left, with my hands in my pockets. I stopped and stared at what remained of the new-er addition to the house, the part that had extended further into the yard from the family room and basement playroom. That large section of the house had been smashed to bits, destroyed in a recent tornado, but the original part of the house (well, the part dating back to 1968) seemed to be unscathed. My mom looked out of the family room window and spoke to me. She didn't seem upset about the turn of events. Evidently, she'd already come to grips with the situation, and was simply happy that no one had been hurt. She marveled at how the storm had destroyed that part of the house, but had left the telephone poles standing, and the wires in place.
*****
Dream 2: See 'n Say
It was Christmastime, and my wife and I were at Gordon and Barbara's house, visiting with them and our friends Ed and Dawn. We were exchanging Christmas presents, and Gordon said that he had one more thing for me. He knows that I love old Hot Wheels cars and Christmas in general, so he usually gives me a neat retro Hot Wheels ornament. This time he had something different up his sleeve. He reached into a Christmas bag and handed me a round, vintage See 'n Say, a beloved educational toy from my childhood. This one had a plastic "dial" in the front, featuring a toucan. I was delighted and turned to my wife and said, "Look, Honey! It's the Fruit Loops bird!"
*****
Dream 1: Destruction
This was a weird one, but I know where I got some of these ideas. For the record, let me state that I've never met the two gentlemen from Aerosmith, and the bit about bomb making is completely fictional. I'm sure that they are very nice people, and neither they nor I want to bomb, or hurt anyone, or anything.
Believe it or not, the rounded, heavy pine-green bomb in this dream is based on none other than an emu egg. You read that right. Whole Foods has just opened a fancy grocery store here in Nashville (which we adore) and the other night we were buying fresh produce when I noticed that they were selling emu eggs. I had never seen an emu egg before in my life. I picked one up to get a closer look. It was a beautiful dark green, and quite heavy. It wasn't round; rather, it was the size of a small football. For some odd reason, I thought it was rather unique, and a feeling came over me that it was a crime to eat such a thing. Of course, that didn't stop me from eating the chicken that we bought that day. Still, it seemed a shame to me to eat something so special, so unusual. What would one do with it, anyway? Make the world's largest omelet?
Last Tuesday (the evening of Super Tuesday) a rash of deadly storms blew through Arkansas and Tennessee, killing 54 people, the last I'd heard. It was a very scary night. Several different bands of terrifying bad weather passed to our north and south from 6:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. We had to spend a good deal of time sitting huddled in our basement with our cat, listening to the radio, with a lantern at the ready. Winds were whipping around the house, lightning and thunder were crashing, and the tornado siren was blaring almost constantly. I wasn't worried so much that the tornado would come down our street, but I was plenty concerned that a large tree or branch would fall on our roof or our car. Fortunately, that didn't happen, and we made it through unharmed. People in Jackson, Tennessee weren't so lucky. One of my coworkers e-mailed me several photos showing destruction of dorm rooms at Union College, and of havoc wreaked in the parking lot. Cars were literally picked up, turned over and tossed on top of each other. Those ripped up dorms became the destroyed extra addition on my parents' house in this dream.
The "extra-addition" to Mom and Dad's old house as outlined in this dream does not exist. Dad sold the house around 2001, and, as far as I know, the new owners built up (on top of the old "family room") but did not build farther out. I'd like to think that this dream simply combined the emu egg and the tornado into a bizarre story, but since the destruction in the dream only affected later additions to the house (theoretically made after the kids moved out), there's a possibility that it represents some hidden, residual resentment or anger that someone else is messing with the floor plan of "our" house. Jeez, I hope not. I have no conscious feelings in that regard. After all, it never really was "my" house to begin with. I just lived there. After reading this dream again, I got the sense that three of us could be seen as plotting to destroy any addition to the house that didn't correspond to the house of my childhood. That's the way it looks, but there was no sense that we destroyed the addition ourselves. The weather did it, and there was no implication about what we, or they, were doing with that project of theirs. In any case, it was disturbing.
*****
Dream 2: See n' Say
Once again, my age is showing. Isn't it amazing how this stuff is packed away in our brains, just waiting for a chance to come out and play? See 'n Say was a wonderful toy that I had when I was young. You'd pull a string and the character in the middle would spin around until it pointed to an animal or a word, etc., then the toy would tell you something about it. The most famous version featured a farmer, and the famous line, "the cow says: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I don't recall having a version that featured a toucan in the middle, but maybe such a thing existed. Fruit Loops was a cereal that we ate at our house from time to time. It was introduced by Kellog's in 1963. Its mascot, of course, was Toucan Sam. The first See 'n Say was brought out by Mattel in 1965. I always loved the thing, but couldn't remember what it was called till I described it to my wife this morning. She knew right away.
Nice Rap
Tuesday night
My brother Andrew and I were playing baseball on a nicely-kept field. The other players were friends of ours. It was an informal game, and we were on opposing teams. Andrew was pitching, and I was up to bat. He sent a nice pitch my way, and I swung hard, sending a single into the outfield, between the the shortstop and second base.
*****
Fun, fun, fun. I'm a little scared to play baseball nowadays, due to the speed with which the ball comes off of the bat. My reflexes aren't what they once were (not that they were ever very good) and I'm afraid to get my remaining teeth knocked out. I still love softball and Wiffle ball, however, and love to play. In fact, Andrew and I used to have a big combined birthday party every year, called the "Birthday Bash," and we'd always have a softball game in the afternoon before the party. Gosh, that was fun. I'm already daydreaming about doing it again for our 50th, in August of 2012. Mark your calendars.
My brother Andrew and I were playing baseball on a nicely-kept field. The other players were friends of ours. It was an informal game, and we were on opposing teams. Andrew was pitching, and I was up to bat. He sent a nice pitch my way, and I swung hard, sending a single into the outfield, between the the shortstop and second base.
*****
Fun, fun, fun. I'm a little scared to play baseball nowadays, due to the speed with which the ball comes off of the bat. My reflexes aren't what they once were (not that they were ever very good) and I'm afraid to get my remaining teeth knocked out. I still love softball and Wiffle ball, however, and love to play. In fact, Andrew and I used to have a big combined birthday party every year, called the "Birthday Bash," and we'd always have a softball game in the afternoon before the party. Gosh, that was fun. I'm already daydreaming about doing it again for our 50th, in August of 2012. Mark your calendars.
Waves
Sunday night
I was talking with my former boss, Maurice, and told him that I was recently walking near a traffic circle where he and his wife had picked me up one time. I had needed a break and wanted to get away for a little while, so I had stopped by a hotel which was only a couple of blocks away. The front of the building faced the road not far from the roundabout, but the back entrance opened out onto the beach, and offered a wonderful view of the ocean. I walked down the left side of the building, and then took a right, where I found several of the hotel guests waiting patiently on a large, wide concrete stairway. The interesting thing about the stairway was that it was equipped with a special metal archway which rose up above our heads, and leaned out a few feet in the direction of the water. Somehow, the archway could sense the size of the waves in the distance, and with a glance, vacationers could tell whether or not it was safe to venture out into the water. Shortly after I arrived, I could tell that there were rough seas out there; the archway glowed red, and started blinking the numbers 1500; that meant that there was a 1,500 foot tall wave breaking out there. Better stay on the porch till things calm down.
*****
If there really was a 1,500 ft. wave heading our way, there wouldn't be a porch for very long, or a hotel, for that matter.
Again, I'm dreaming of the beach. My brother Jimmie and sister-in-law, Dawn, recently invited my wife and me to join them for a family vacation at the beach this summner, not far from a beach house that will be rented by my aunt and loads of cousins. That would be nice, but the fact is that my wife and I haven't had a week-long vacation away on our own since we went to Ireland, and that was in the fall of 2004. (A lot of things have happened since then; job changes, etc.) We are getting away by ourselves to Acadia National Park in Maine in late July. I hate to disappoint anyone, and sometimes wish I could be in two places at once, but I hope that everyone understands that when we travel home for Christmas, while it's nice to see family and friends, we end up staying for several days in a house filled with 10 people, we spend lots of time driving back and forth to see everyone, then we take 11 hours to drive home and go back to work. It's exhausting. This time we'll be staying at an inn with a balcony overlooking the harbor. We'll be going out to eat, walking the beach, hitting antique stores and book shops, etc. I do sincerely hope that we can do the beach thing with our families at another time.
And I owe Maurice and his wife a call. They contacted us a month ago about taking a walk around a local lake, and I've been so busy that I haven't taken them up on it. I suppose that I feel guilty about the Maurice thing and the beach thing with Jimmie and Dawn, so I combined them in this dream.
I was talking with my former boss, Maurice, and told him that I was recently walking near a traffic circle where he and his wife had picked me up one time. I had needed a break and wanted to get away for a little while, so I had stopped by a hotel which was only a couple of blocks away. The front of the building faced the road not far from the roundabout, but the back entrance opened out onto the beach, and offered a wonderful view of the ocean. I walked down the left side of the building, and then took a right, where I found several of the hotel guests waiting patiently on a large, wide concrete stairway. The interesting thing about the stairway was that it was equipped with a special metal archway which rose up above our heads, and leaned out a few feet in the direction of the water. Somehow, the archway could sense the size of the waves in the distance, and with a glance, vacationers could tell whether or not it was safe to venture out into the water. Shortly after I arrived, I could tell that there were rough seas out there; the archway glowed red, and started blinking the numbers 1500; that meant that there was a 1,500 foot tall wave breaking out there. Better stay on the porch till things calm down.
*****
If there really was a 1,500 ft. wave heading our way, there wouldn't be a porch for very long, or a hotel, for that matter.
Again, I'm dreaming of the beach. My brother Jimmie and sister-in-law, Dawn, recently invited my wife and me to join them for a family vacation at the beach this summner, not far from a beach house that will be rented by my aunt and loads of cousins. That would be nice, but the fact is that my wife and I haven't had a week-long vacation away on our own since we went to Ireland, and that was in the fall of 2004. (A lot of things have happened since then; job changes, etc.) We are getting away by ourselves to Acadia National Park in Maine in late July. I hate to disappoint anyone, and sometimes wish I could be in two places at once, but I hope that everyone understands that when we travel home for Christmas, while it's nice to see family and friends, we end up staying for several days in a house filled with 10 people, we spend lots of time driving back and forth to see everyone, then we take 11 hours to drive home and go back to work. It's exhausting. This time we'll be staying at an inn with a balcony overlooking the harbor. We'll be going out to eat, walking the beach, hitting antique stores and book shops, etc. I do sincerely hope that we can do the beach thing with our families at another time.
And I owe Maurice and his wife a call. They contacted us a month ago about taking a walk around a local lake, and I've been so busy that I haven't taken them up on it. I suppose that I feel guilty about the Maurice thing and the beach thing with Jimmie and Dawn, so I combined them in this dream.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Get Me Outta Here
Saturday night
I was working at a newspaper, and Rod S., the boss who engineered my downsizing at my previous job, was the publisher. I was on my way to his office when I happened to glance over at the wall near another department, and saw that the word INTERNET was posted in large block letters, but that it was misspelled. I was about to e-mail all of the employees about it, but Rod overruled me, telling me only to e-mail the boss of that department. Next, Rod had me come into his office and take notes about story ideas. He told me about a hockey player who had recently been injured, and by way of background, said that the guy had been in Army training with John Mellencamp, and just missed being in his regiment. I was writing all of this while wearing long rubber gloves, and instead of holding the pen as I normally would, between my thumb and the next two fingers, I positioned it backward, toward my palm, and wrote in a scrawl.
*****
The gloves probably mean that I wanted to sanitize myself in his presence; I didn't
want to touch anything that had to do with that man. Also, not to brag, but I've got pretty decent penmanship. The fact that I was scrawling that way means that I was really nervous and out of my element.
I'm not sure about the Mellencamp connection, although I heard a news story recently that JM was happy about John Edwards' campaign using his song "This Is Our Country," but when he heard about John McCain using it, he asked them to stop. As for the bit about hockey, I'm certainly not a fan, but some of my poker buddies were talking about it the other night, and the Caps' game was on in the background.
*****
January 2008 Dream Roundup
Family & Friends:
My wife
My sister-in-law (wife's sister) (mentioned in "Downturn")
Andrew C.
Dad
Dana S.
Dawn C.
Gordon S.
Greg S.
Jimmie C.
Mom
Our (non-existent) French son (in "Poodle?")
Susan W.
Acquaintances & Coworkers:
Christy S.
Eden F.
Jennie S.
Pat H.
Tom S.
Celebrities:
Bruce Springsteen
The Cars
Clarence Clemons
David Letterman
Erykah Badu
George W. Bush
Heath Ledger (mentioned in "On Location")
Jane Pauley
Johnny Carson
Johnny Cash
Ronald Reagan
I was working at a newspaper, and Rod S., the boss who engineered my downsizing at my previous job, was the publisher. I was on my way to his office when I happened to glance over at the wall near another department, and saw that the word INTERNET was posted in large block letters, but that it was misspelled. I was about to e-mail all of the employees about it, but Rod overruled me, telling me only to e-mail the boss of that department. Next, Rod had me come into his office and take notes about story ideas. He told me about a hockey player who had recently been injured, and by way of background, said that the guy had been in Army training with John Mellencamp, and just missed being in his regiment. I was writing all of this while wearing long rubber gloves, and instead of holding the pen as I normally would, between my thumb and the next two fingers, I positioned it backward, toward my palm, and wrote in a scrawl.
*****
The gloves probably mean that I wanted to sanitize myself in his presence; I didn't
want to touch anything that had to do with that man. Also, not to brag, but I've got pretty decent penmanship. The fact that I was scrawling that way means that I was really nervous and out of my element.
I'm not sure about the Mellencamp connection, although I heard a news story recently that JM was happy about John Edwards' campaign using his song "This Is Our Country," but when he heard about John McCain using it, he asked them to stop. As for the bit about hockey, I'm certainly not a fan, but some of my poker buddies were talking about it the other night, and the Caps' game was on in the background.
*****
January 2008 Dream Roundup
Family & Friends:
My wife
My sister-in-law (wife's sister) (mentioned in "Downturn")
Andrew C.
Dad
Dana S.
Dawn C.
Gordon S.
Greg S.
Jimmie C.
Mom
Our (non-existent) French son (in "Poodle?")
Susan W.
Acquaintances & Coworkers:
Christy S.
Eden F.
Jennie S.
Pat H.
Tom S.
Celebrities:
Bruce Springsteen
The Cars
Clarence Clemons
David Letterman
Erykah Badu
George W. Bush
Heath Ledger (mentioned in "On Location")
Jane Pauley
Johnny Carson
Johnny Cash
Ronald Reagan
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