It turned out I didn’t have to wait too long. About a half hour after the car conked out on me, I saw the lights of a patrol car kick in down the road and a state trooper pulled to the curb just behind my vehicle.
I did the usual inventory of what vehicle infractions I could be subject to and decided I should be okay. The darn thing did pass its inspection last month and I thought the tires were all legal at least. I had a storied history of traffic tickets in my dubious past.
I conveyed my plight to the officer and he called for a tow truck to get me off the side of the road. I thanked him and shortly thereafter I saw the flashing lights of the tow truck bearing down from the south.
I got towed to a little service center and forked over what I hoped was a good piece of plastic to cover the towing charges and was able to call my sister from the service center.
My sister sighed but said her husband would make the trek down to retrieve me and we could decide on what to do with the car in the morning.
Saturday morning came and I awoke in my childhood home feeling a tad disoriented and once I recognized my circumstances and the memory of the previous night came into focus, I started getting depressed. Here I was 31 years old seemingly with no direction in my life. I was a victim of a bad marriage, a nowhere, dead-end job, and with no clear prospects or direction.
I hate when days start like this.
I wondered out to the kitchen in search of coffee, breakfast and distraction. No one else in the house seemed to be stirring (or else they were gone…). I checked the time and began to wonder about my “date” with Cheryl later this evening. Should I call it off, tell her about the car trouble, admit to being a loser and tell her she would be best to forget she ever knew me.
I was feeling a bit sorry for myself.
Fortunately, this mood didn’t persist. I recognized the self-pity and shook it off and developed my usual pragmatic vision. What did I need to do first… that’s what I needed to focus on.
My sister came in and we exchanged greetings. I had already started coffee, she offered to cook some eggs and I accepted the offer.
We ate in relative silence. Her husband was working and the kids were off doing Saturday type activities so we were alone in the house. She told me that one of her high school friend’s husband had some cars for sale if I wanted to consider that option as opposed to attempting to fix up the current clunker again. I considered that option for nano-second and concluded that financially this wasn’t a realistic option.
Turns out when I checked with the service center that had my car that it fired up on the first try this morning. Probably just got too wet. I caught a ride down there from my sister. After picking up the car I rode out to a local mall to pick up some items for the date. My attention then began to focus on the next task at hand which was how to impress my former high school crush that I wasn’t the total loser that I appeared to be (and I felt at that point in time, I was).
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Well - Part VIII
Life is best viewed as a continual series of improvisations.
I’ve often thought of it as a test. It had to be a test, only a test. If it had been an actual life, we would then be receiving instruction on how to deal with it. This is only a test.
In any case, my life has taken some pretty intense twists and turns of late.
My next few days were filled with little mundane work related activities. I decided to call my sister since I lied and used that as an excuse to be in Danbury to pursue the date with Cheryl. I was also doing a lot less bar hopping, eating home, and decided I needed a little drying out period. I was more than a little nervous about the date. I was also concerned about what might transpire once I placed myself back in my “old stomping grounds” of western Connecticut.
By Friday afternoon I was in full-blown clock watching mode. I had accomplished most everything my employer had put on my plate and was puttering around killing time until quitting time. The days since I had returned to work only seemed to reinforce my belief that I was a tad overdue for some material changes in my life…both professional and personal.
Maybe a jaunt back to the old hometown would be just what the doctor ordered. I certainly hoped as much.
I decided to head back to the apartment first instead of dealing with the rush hour madness in the mass exodus that is the normal northbound out of the city traffic on a Friday experience (I’ve been there, got that t-shirt). I could, in fact, wait until Saturday morning but I had told my sibling that I would be showing up on her doorstep sometime Friday night so that option didn’t really exist.
I packed up a few changes of shirt and some dress slacks for the date and proceeded out to the beat up Chevy that was “my ride” these days. It was a1998 Lumina that was just about five years past its prime. It ran but the handling and the ride suffered from a lot of neglect and several years of harsh city driving. I headed north out of the city around 8:00 pm which avoided the lion’s share of the weekend rush.
I had gone about fifty miles when I ran into some torrential rains… I slowed to a crawl mostly because the wipers on this beast were not stellar performers either. I had made the trip often enough that the roadways were familiar and I was also accustomed to the usual places in my route that be subject to flooding.
I turned up the music just about the time that the engine decided it was wet enough and wanted a break. It cut out and I rolled to a stop on the shoulder of Rte 684 15 miles south of the Rte 84 interchange. I did the usual routine…curse first, pound the steering wheel, try to re-start the car, curse, pound the steering wheel…
The rain was coming down pretty hard at that point and there didn’t seem to be much traffic (probably due to the weather).
I checked my cell phone and sure enough… my luck was holding true and there was no signal and very little battery left for any attempt at communications. I repeated the same litany with the phone as I had just performed with the car; Call, call fail, curse, beat on the steering wheel, try call, call fail, curse….
I then attempted to assess what options I did have. I could start walking and feared that I’d end up as a hood ornament on some trucker’s dash. I could wait for a while and hope that a cop spotted me, I could continue to repeat the useless attempts at re-starting the car or making a call…
Well…
I’ve often thought of it as a test. It had to be a test, only a test. If it had been an actual life, we would then be receiving instruction on how to deal with it. This is only a test.
In any case, my life has taken some pretty intense twists and turns of late.
My next few days were filled with little mundane work related activities. I decided to call my sister since I lied and used that as an excuse to be in Danbury to pursue the date with Cheryl. I was also doing a lot less bar hopping, eating home, and decided I needed a little drying out period. I was more than a little nervous about the date. I was also concerned about what might transpire once I placed myself back in my “old stomping grounds” of western Connecticut.
By Friday afternoon I was in full-blown clock watching mode. I had accomplished most everything my employer had put on my plate and was puttering around killing time until quitting time. The days since I had returned to work only seemed to reinforce my belief that I was a tad overdue for some material changes in my life…both professional and personal.
Maybe a jaunt back to the old hometown would be just what the doctor ordered. I certainly hoped as much.
I decided to head back to the apartment first instead of dealing with the rush hour madness in the mass exodus that is the normal northbound out of the city traffic on a Friday experience (I’ve been there, got that t-shirt). I could, in fact, wait until Saturday morning but I had told my sibling that I would be showing up on her doorstep sometime Friday night so that option didn’t really exist.
I packed up a few changes of shirt and some dress slacks for the date and proceeded out to the beat up Chevy that was “my ride” these days. It was a1998 Lumina that was just about five years past its prime. It ran but the handling and the ride suffered from a lot of neglect and several years of harsh city driving. I headed north out of the city around 8:00 pm which avoided the lion’s share of the weekend rush.
I had gone about fifty miles when I ran into some torrential rains… I slowed to a crawl mostly because the wipers on this beast were not stellar performers either. I had made the trip often enough that the roadways were familiar and I was also accustomed to the usual places in my route that be subject to flooding.
I turned up the music just about the time that the engine decided it was wet enough and wanted a break. It cut out and I rolled to a stop on the shoulder of Rte 684 15 miles south of the Rte 84 interchange. I did the usual routine…curse first, pound the steering wheel, try to re-start the car, curse, pound the steering wheel…
The rain was coming down pretty hard at that point and there didn’t seem to be much traffic (probably due to the weather).
I checked my cell phone and sure enough… my luck was holding true and there was no signal and very little battery left for any attempt at communications. I repeated the same litany with the phone as I had just performed with the car; Call, call fail, curse, beat on the steering wheel, try call, call fail, curse….
I then attempted to assess what options I did have. I could start walking and feared that I’d end up as a hood ornament on some trucker’s dash. I could wait for a while and hope that a cop spotted me, I could continue to repeat the useless attempts at re-starting the car or making a call…
Well…
Monday, October 26, 2009
Well - Part VII
I explained to Cheryl the events of the past week and waking up in the hospital with multiple contusions and some broken ribs. She was silent and let me finish the story but I could also see in her eyes some degree of abject horror in my tale.
Coming from a much smaller city and more of a neighborhood environment I could understand why she looked upon these circumstances as being so scary and unusual. I hoped I still did but it was still kind of fresh and I guess even though it was my own body… I was kind of in an out of body mindset that night. Anyway, after regaling her of my recent bad luck experiences. I kind of ran out of gas and the conversation seemed to come to an end.
Cheryl politely stated that “It’s getting late” and was in the process of excusing herself when I blurted out… “You know I had a heck of a crush on you in high school…” Her head spun around and she gave me a look of both pleasant surprise and curiosity.
“I knew…”
“Really?” It was my turn to be shocked. I was more sure that I had made absolutely no impression on young Cheryl than I was sure that grass was green and the sky was blue.
“I kept waiting on you to ask me out and it never happened.” She said.
I knew all too well that this was the case. I used to lay awake at night thinking of Cheryl. She was always cheerful but far from out going (as most of the popular girls were in my classroom). She always seemed to be just a bit out of place and trying to find her way. This was also true of most of my friends…and myself.
I had managed to get through High School with almost no experience with the opposite sex and my virginity firmly intact. As I was thinking about this, I was almost certain that I hadn’t even gotten Cheryl to sign my senior yearbook. To think that she was aware of my unspoken and “not acted upon” attraction was most surprising.
“Geez… I guess I was afraid of rejection or that you weren’t interested.” I stammered out (I guess I was feeling kind of defensive give this revelation).
“I thought you were kind of cute. You didn’t seem to be like any of the other guys. You were thoughtful and more of a bookworm.” Damn she was paying attention.
I might have been blushing but I was very encouraged because a few moments ago I thought Cheryl was about to walk out of my life again (and I probably wouldn’t have blamed her) and now she seemed to be settling back into her seat.
“…and here we are 10 years later…” I smiled. I didn’t know what else to do and it seemed like a rather natural response at this point. I was pleased that I had at least made some kind of impression on her (without really trying) and that her she was with the potential that I might have actually professed what I probably should have stated to her a decade earlier.
A semi-uncomfortable silence ensued and I was fearful that I was about to lose that momentum again. “Could we maybe … go out for a dinner or a movie sometime?”
“I’d like that.” She said. “But, how is that going to happen. I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Connecticut again. You making any trips back to our hometown in the near future?”
“Well…” Here comes another lie… I thought. “I was going to be coming up north next weekend to visit my sister. Are you free then?”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
With that comment our evening wound down shortly thereafter. I walked her to her hotel and we agreed that I would call her to confirm next Thursday.
As I was walking back to my apartment, I had the biggest grin on my face. I couldn’t believe the swing of luck in my life in such a short time span.
Coming from a much smaller city and more of a neighborhood environment I could understand why she looked upon these circumstances as being so scary and unusual. I hoped I still did but it was still kind of fresh and I guess even though it was my own body… I was kind of in an out of body mindset that night. Anyway, after regaling her of my recent bad luck experiences. I kind of ran out of gas and the conversation seemed to come to an end.
Cheryl politely stated that “It’s getting late” and was in the process of excusing herself when I blurted out… “You know I had a heck of a crush on you in high school…” Her head spun around and she gave me a look of both pleasant surprise and curiosity.
“I knew…”
“Really?” It was my turn to be shocked. I was more sure that I had made absolutely no impression on young Cheryl than I was sure that grass was green and the sky was blue.
“I kept waiting on you to ask me out and it never happened.” She said.
I knew all too well that this was the case. I used to lay awake at night thinking of Cheryl. She was always cheerful but far from out going (as most of the popular girls were in my classroom). She always seemed to be just a bit out of place and trying to find her way. This was also true of most of my friends…and myself.
I had managed to get through High School with almost no experience with the opposite sex and my virginity firmly intact. As I was thinking about this, I was almost certain that I hadn’t even gotten Cheryl to sign my senior yearbook. To think that she was aware of my unspoken and “not acted upon” attraction was most surprising.
“Geez… I guess I was afraid of rejection or that you weren’t interested.” I stammered out (I guess I was feeling kind of defensive give this revelation).
“I thought you were kind of cute. You didn’t seem to be like any of the other guys. You were thoughtful and more of a bookworm.” Damn she was paying attention.
I might have been blushing but I was very encouraged because a few moments ago I thought Cheryl was about to walk out of my life again (and I probably wouldn’t have blamed her) and now she seemed to be settling back into her seat.
“…and here we are 10 years later…” I smiled. I didn’t know what else to do and it seemed like a rather natural response at this point. I was pleased that I had at least made some kind of impression on her (without really trying) and that her she was with the potential that I might have actually professed what I probably should have stated to her a decade earlier.
A semi-uncomfortable silence ensued and I was fearful that I was about to lose that momentum again. “Could we maybe … go out for a dinner or a movie sometime?”
“I’d like that.” She said. “But, how is that going to happen. I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Connecticut again. You making any trips back to our hometown in the near future?”
“Well…” Here comes another lie… I thought. “I was going to be coming up north next weekend to visit my sister. Are you free then?”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
With that comment our evening wound down shortly thereafter. I walked her to her hotel and we agreed that I would call her to confirm next Thursday.
As I was walking back to my apartment, I had the biggest grin on my face. I couldn’t believe the swing of luck in my life in such a short time span.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Well -Part VI
Well Cheryl did come back. She stated that she had gotten a hold of her friend and that she had been detained and was going to “take a rain check.” Which meant that she was available for perhaps some coffee.
We strolled out of the bar and into the Indian Summer weather. Despite it being mid to late October, the evening air was slightly balmy. As we walked, we talked about inane topics such as the weather, preparations for Holloween and forthcoming holiday season. Seems that since she had never really left our hometown she had much more news from that area than I. I asked her how she decided to take up the teaching profession and she replied with “I couldn’t think of anything else that looked possible for me in that area.”
“Did you ever consider leaving Danbury?”
“Hundreds of times but, I could never decide on a direction or destination.”
“I see, have you done much traveling?”
“Not really, I’ve been up and down the east coast on vacations and the like but I don’t make a lot of money so the traveling bug was never really a possibility for me. My folks passed away a few years ago, my brother decided the military was his career so, that sort of left me alone to fend for myself.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be. It’s not as doom and gloom as that last statement made it sound. I’ve got a fair amount of friends, I’m happy.”
“Great.”
We then fell into a silence as we finished our walk and took a seat in the coffee shop. We ordered a couple of lattes and then resumed the talk.
“I came down to the city right out of High School and it certainly was a bit of culture shock. There was the thrill of all the possibilities but, in the first six months, I was mugged twice and my room got broken into. Last week I was rolled in an alley and sustained some broken ribs so… I’m really beginning to think a change of venue might be in order.”
“Geez… Now I’m the one to say I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. In most of those instances, the bad things happened because I have a tendency to do dumb things at the most inopportune times.”
“How so…?”
“Well…”
We strolled out of the bar and into the Indian Summer weather. Despite it being mid to late October, the evening air was slightly balmy. As we walked, we talked about inane topics such as the weather, preparations for Holloween and forthcoming holiday season. Seems that since she had never really left our hometown she had much more news from that area than I. I asked her how she decided to take up the teaching profession and she replied with “I couldn’t think of anything else that looked possible for me in that area.”
“Did you ever consider leaving Danbury?”
“Hundreds of times but, I could never decide on a direction or destination.”
“I see, have you done much traveling?”
“Not really, I’ve been up and down the east coast on vacations and the like but I don’t make a lot of money so the traveling bug was never really a possibility for me. My folks passed away a few years ago, my brother decided the military was his career so, that sort of left me alone to fend for myself.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be. It’s not as doom and gloom as that last statement made it sound. I’ve got a fair amount of friends, I’m happy.”
“Great.”
We then fell into a silence as we finished our walk and took a seat in the coffee shop. We ordered a couple of lattes and then resumed the talk.
“I came down to the city right out of High School and it certainly was a bit of culture shock. There was the thrill of all the possibilities but, in the first six months, I was mugged twice and my room got broken into. Last week I was rolled in an alley and sustained some broken ribs so… I’m really beginning to think a change of venue might be in order.”
“Geez… Now I’m the one to say I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. In most of those instances, the bad things happened because I have a tendency to do dumb things at the most inopportune times.”
“How so…?”
“Well…”
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Well - Part V
Cheryl Henderson was perhaps my first love. I don’t recall ever thinking about her in those terms but I don’t recall ever being smitten by any woman prior to her (at least to that degree). We never actually went out but we shared several classes and worked together on some school projects. She was probably completely unaware of the crush that I had on her in those days.
I was totally surprised and unprepared to run into her here in the city 10 years after our graduation from high school. When I was high school, I was the bookish nerd in my classes. I never really had to work very hard for good grades and that ease of not having to apply myself carried over from school into my present day work habits.
Cheryl, on the other hand, was probably an average student who was pretty shy and quiet for the most part. She had her small circle of friends and participated in the usual number of after school activities. She wasn’t “popular” in the classic sense of the term but I would venture to guess that you couldn’t find anyone in our class that disliked her for any reason.
She didn’t recognize me (naturally) but I spotted her in that crowded bar as if there was a baby spotlight trained on her and her alone. I made my way through the throng of people in the waiting area of the bar and I was getting closer to her position, my mind was racing for an opening line. I marveled at the light in her eyes and the fact that she smile and mannerisms don’t seem changed given the decade that had passed.
Without any better idea, I approached her from her left and blurted out “Cheryl?”
She turned and greeted my smile with a quizzical and curious look. She obviously was struggling with a response.
“Jim… Jim MacIntyre… remember from Danbury High?”
I watched as she processed that information and some degree of recognition grew in her expression.
“Oh… Yes, of course… How have you been? What are you doing in the city?”
“I moved her directly after graduation. I work in PR for a marketing firm here in Manhattan. It keeps me off the streets” I grinned self-consciously. “How are things going for you?”
“Not bad… I’m down here for a conference at the Hyatt. I went into teaching. I’m teaching elementary school back in Danbury still…”
“Great. You look great. Haven’t changed at all. Am I imposing…?” I glanced around but she appeared to be alone. This was very surprising to me so I had to ask… as dumb as it sounded (to me).
“Well, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here but I she must be running late”
“Do you want to get a table or something? If you’d like, I know a nice coffee shop in the next block. It would be a lot quieter.” Not bad I thought… redirection… see if she is interested in carrying on the conversation.
She nodded her head and said, “I really should see if I can get a hold of my friend… Let me try to give her a call. I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an answer she turned away and began to pick her way through the crowd towards the door. I assumed she was going to step outside to make her call. The thought also crossed my mind that she could also be intending to leave and not come back….
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Well - Part IV
So… Where does this all lead? I wish I could say that I had benefited from some great insight as a result of my beating while stumbling home drunk one evening but… I’m not sure that’s really the case.
I resolved to attempt to get myself home at an earlier hour. I decided that I would try really hard not to urinate in any strange alleyways (familiar alleyways are still fair game by that definition I guess…) and I suppose that I should say that the experience with closing out all of my credit cards and the changing of passwords and the like was a good exercise if only because it forced me to take that inventory. Oddly enough I never saw any fraudulent charges or problems as a result of my wallet being picked. I imagined that it just wound up in a dumpster somewhere after the thief grabbed the meager $20 or so that represented my “walking around cash”.
Work was a tad less pleased with my calling them as late as I did that day but they didn’t really give me much of a hard time about it. I guess they decided that getting rolled in an alleyway was basis for a short term disability stint. I wound up having to fill out some forms but, all in all, it wasn’t as bothersome as I was initially thinking it would become.
I stayed out the rest of that week and rested up through the weekend. One of my friends arrived at my doorstep on Friday night with a pizza and a six-pack. I shared the pizza but opted not to partake of the beer. I thanked him and sent him on his way well before midnight.
The following Monday was “face the music” time and I strolled in with freshly pressed clothes and a forced smile on my face. I had the anticipated glut of emails to parse through and I read with interest what was transpiring as far as potential business opportunities. I was riddled to some extent with some guilt feelings and wanted to throw myself into some projects to make up for my “lost time” experience.
The first few days passed rather uneventfully and then the painful one-week anniversary took place that Thursday. There was the usual group of folks that were assembling for an “after work” meeting at the local pub. I had mixed feelings about joining them but in the end, found myself on that barstool again. I started very slowly and combined seltzer water with rounds of beer. I left after a quick burger and got home before 10:00 that evening. All in all, my experience was a somewhat respectable change in comparison to my habits of the last couple of months.
Through that week I could almost convince myself that I had things under control and that I was on the road to rebuilding my standing with the company and starting to adhere to a more conservative and healthy lifestyle.
Then I had a chance meeting with my old classmate, Cheryl.
I resolved to attempt to get myself home at an earlier hour. I decided that I would try really hard not to urinate in any strange alleyways (familiar alleyways are still fair game by that definition I guess…) and I suppose that I should say that the experience with closing out all of my credit cards and the changing of passwords and the like was a good exercise if only because it forced me to take that inventory. Oddly enough I never saw any fraudulent charges or problems as a result of my wallet being picked. I imagined that it just wound up in a dumpster somewhere after the thief grabbed the meager $20 or so that represented my “walking around cash”.
Work was a tad less pleased with my calling them as late as I did that day but they didn’t really give me much of a hard time about it. I guess they decided that getting rolled in an alleyway was basis for a short term disability stint. I wound up having to fill out some forms but, all in all, it wasn’t as bothersome as I was initially thinking it would become.
I stayed out the rest of that week and rested up through the weekend. One of my friends arrived at my doorstep on Friday night with a pizza and a six-pack. I shared the pizza but opted not to partake of the beer. I thanked him and sent him on his way well before midnight.
The following Monday was “face the music” time and I strolled in with freshly pressed clothes and a forced smile on my face. I had the anticipated glut of emails to parse through and I read with interest what was transpiring as far as potential business opportunities. I was riddled to some extent with some guilt feelings and wanted to throw myself into some projects to make up for my “lost time” experience.
The first few days passed rather uneventfully and then the painful one-week anniversary took place that Thursday. There was the usual group of folks that were assembling for an “after work” meeting at the local pub. I had mixed feelings about joining them but in the end, found myself on that barstool again. I started very slowly and combined seltzer water with rounds of beer. I left after a quick burger and got home before 10:00 that evening. All in all, my experience was a somewhat respectable change in comparison to my habits of the last couple of months.
Through that week I could almost convince myself that I had things under control and that I was on the road to rebuilding my standing with the company and starting to adhere to a more conservative and healthy lifestyle.
Then I had a chance meeting with my old classmate, Cheryl.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Well - Part III
The hospital room was typical and the scene before me was exactly what I would have expected seeing in a hospital room…except I wasn’t expecting to see a hospital room when I awoke.
To me there was no time passage from blacking out in that alleyway in front of the cop and awakening in the hospital. What did transpire in that time frame was that I was now cleaned up, in a hospital gown, an IV connected to my left arm and apparently on some painkillers because I wasn’t feeling any vestige of a hangover. I somehow thought that the hangover was something I was almost expecting despite all the other events of the past few hours.
The nurse who was looking down at me at this moment was wearing the usual crisp white uniform and a small scowl on her face. I wasn’t sure if the subject of the scowl was a reaction to me in general, my injuries, or perhaps she was just having a bad morning. Whatever the cause, she then attended to her duties by checking my IV tubes and bag. She asked me whether I “needed anything”. She offered no explanation as to my condition or the treatment that I was undergoing at the moment but, only gave me a forced smile and then left the room.
I again, attempted to take an inventory to check and see if I had mobility of all of my extremities, check to make sure I could shift my position in the bed (slightly) and then I used the call button to request a nurse. I couldn’t stand the suspense any loner and wanted an explanation as to how hurt I was. I didn’t trust my suddenly optimistic assessment of my current situation.
When the same nurse with the (seemingly) perpetual scowl on her face returned, I blurted out my question…
“So, how busted up am I …?”
“You sustained a couple of fracture ribs, several contusions to various areas of your body and we suspect a minor concussion. Other than that, you should be fine and discharged after an over night here for observation.”
Well, I greeted this information with a mixture of relief and puzzlement. I wasn’t sure if time would allow me to piece together the rest of the events that occurred that morning in that back alleyway but, I’m not sure it’s all that important. My next concerns were really with closing out the credit cards and minimizing whatever monetary damage I was surely going to experience.
Oh, and I needed to call my boss to let him know I wasn’t going to be coming into the office for a couple of days.
To me there was no time passage from blacking out in that alleyway in front of the cop and awakening in the hospital. What did transpire in that time frame was that I was now cleaned up, in a hospital gown, an IV connected to my left arm and apparently on some painkillers because I wasn’t feeling any vestige of a hangover. I somehow thought that the hangover was something I was almost expecting despite all the other events of the past few hours.
The nurse who was looking down at me at this moment was wearing the usual crisp white uniform and a small scowl on her face. I wasn’t sure if the subject of the scowl was a reaction to me in general, my injuries, or perhaps she was just having a bad morning. Whatever the cause, she then attended to her duties by checking my IV tubes and bag. She asked me whether I “needed anything”. She offered no explanation as to my condition or the treatment that I was undergoing at the moment but, only gave me a forced smile and then left the room.
I again, attempted to take an inventory to check and see if I had mobility of all of my extremities, check to make sure I could shift my position in the bed (slightly) and then I used the call button to request a nurse. I couldn’t stand the suspense any loner and wanted an explanation as to how hurt I was. I didn’t trust my suddenly optimistic assessment of my current situation.
When the same nurse with the (seemingly) perpetual scowl on her face returned, I blurted out my question…
“So, how busted up am I …?”
“You sustained a couple of fracture ribs, several contusions to various areas of your body and we suspect a minor concussion. Other than that, you should be fine and discharged after an over night here for observation.”
Well, I greeted this information with a mixture of relief and puzzlement. I wasn’t sure if time would allow me to piece together the rest of the events that occurred that morning in that back alleyway but, I’m not sure it’s all that important. My next concerns were really with closing out the credit cards and minimizing whatever monetary damage I was surely going to experience.
Oh, and I needed to call my boss to let him know I wasn’t going to be coming into the office for a couple of days.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Hawaiian Escape
Surprisingly, I had agreed to go back to collage. Somehow, I was going to do this with two of my best friends (but not my wife). We had somehow developed a sweet deal to return to college within the great state of Hawaii.
We are arriving in Hawaii, disembarking from the plane to be greeted with the traditional Lei ceremony by “native” Hawaiians and then we are whisked off to the campus of the university.
We checked in with all of our stuff and were escorted to our new living quarters which consisted of a very nice looking apartment that was well suited for two people. As I suggested though, we were three. Apparently the deal which was masterminded by my oldest friend Jerry was to have all of us enroll in college but have me live with them (in their dorm room) to conserve funds.
We were all celebrating and marveling that we were beginning this great new adventure. We were congratulating each other on this wonderful decision, the weather was going to be great and we were going to have a grand time in the ensuing four years in the beautiful environs of Hawaii.
It was then that my internal voice reminded me that I was married. I still seemed to be 18 years old (and even I wasn’t stupid enough to be married when I really was 18 years old… I waited until I was 20…), I realized then, that I hadn’t even informed my present day wife (a wonderful woman who I am madly in love with) that I had “run off” to college, moved out and living in Hawaii.
I knew that I needed to call her. My friend was regaling some stories of the last time he was in college and the hazing that was performed on “newbies.” He was accounting this apparently for my benefit. It was seemingly suggested that this was about to take place with me playing the role of the victim.
Just then, my friend handed me the phone. Said it was my wife on the phone. I swallowed hard and took the phone trying to figure out how I was going to break the news to her and wondering how quickly I could get her out here and what that would do to our envisioned plan for the next four years.
Somehow the conversation got onto the topic of Internet access. It seemed we currently (in our room in Hawaii, in college, within this bizarre situation that I was in) enjoying some pretty good bandwidth. My wife asked if we were going to be getting the same kind of connection in our “new” apartment. I wasn’t aware that we were moving and asked about this to my friend and his wife. His wife then said well… “Geez, you didn’t think we were all going to stay here long. It was set up for two people.” This seemed to strike me odd as I thought this was all pre-arranged and I wasn’t aware that she wasn’t cool with me being the unofficial housepest of the experience.
Some surrealistic scenes then took place with me sleeping in different places within the building.
This series of scenes halted with me still being on the phone with my present day wife. My rational mind was also seeping into this experience by pointing out that if my friend and his wife were 18 years old, then they weren’t married either. They hadn’t even met until my friend was almost 40 years. This was also the case, my rational mind reminded me, with my wife and myself.
I was enjoying the experience of being 18 again and in college. I was really relishing the fact that we seemingly would be spending some great times in Hawaii. My rational mind was also reminding me that I needed to get a job because I had been spoiled of late with having money and all appearances seemed to suggest that this was definitely going to be a contrast with my current course of action within this "new arrangement."
The alarm then went off and I was awakened.
This was all a dream.
I lay there after “killing” the alarm letting the dream experiences conflict (casually it seemed, almost easing my passage into wakefulness) with reality.
I got up and passed my over 50 wife in the hall way as I was proceeding to the bathroom. I heard the coffeemaker start up by grinding beans in the kitchen. I felt the pain in my over 50 back as I was picking up some items that had fallen off the bureau onto the floor. I didn’t even want to think about the day that was ahead of me but my now fully awakened mind reminded me that I had to go to the eye doctor after work today to get new glasses. I began the morning routine to take my medications and juice to prepare the aging body for the day ahead.
What a contrast with the fun loving 18 year old that was looking at an amazing streak of luck to begin a four-year college experience with good friends in Hawaii.
We are arriving in Hawaii, disembarking from the plane to be greeted with the traditional Lei ceremony by “native” Hawaiians and then we are whisked off to the campus of the university.
We checked in with all of our stuff and were escorted to our new living quarters which consisted of a very nice looking apartment that was well suited for two people. As I suggested though, we were three. Apparently the deal which was masterminded by my oldest friend Jerry was to have all of us enroll in college but have me live with them (in their dorm room) to conserve funds.
We were all celebrating and marveling that we were beginning this great new adventure. We were congratulating each other on this wonderful decision, the weather was going to be great and we were going to have a grand time in the ensuing four years in the beautiful environs of Hawaii.
It was then that my internal voice reminded me that I was married. I still seemed to be 18 years old (and even I wasn’t stupid enough to be married when I really was 18 years old… I waited until I was 20…), I realized then, that I hadn’t even informed my present day wife (a wonderful woman who I am madly in love with) that I had “run off” to college, moved out and living in Hawaii.
I knew that I needed to call her. My friend was regaling some stories of the last time he was in college and the hazing that was performed on “newbies.” He was accounting this apparently for my benefit. It was seemingly suggested that this was about to take place with me playing the role of the victim.
Just then, my friend handed me the phone. Said it was my wife on the phone. I swallowed hard and took the phone trying to figure out how I was going to break the news to her and wondering how quickly I could get her out here and what that would do to our envisioned plan for the next four years.
Somehow the conversation got onto the topic of Internet access. It seemed we currently (in our room in Hawaii, in college, within this bizarre situation that I was in) enjoying some pretty good bandwidth. My wife asked if we were going to be getting the same kind of connection in our “new” apartment. I wasn’t aware that we were moving and asked about this to my friend and his wife. His wife then said well… “Geez, you didn’t think we were all going to stay here long. It was set up for two people.” This seemed to strike me odd as I thought this was all pre-arranged and I wasn’t aware that she wasn’t cool with me being the unofficial housepest of the experience.
Some surrealistic scenes then took place with me sleeping in different places within the building.
This series of scenes halted with me still being on the phone with my present day wife. My rational mind was also seeping into this experience by pointing out that if my friend and his wife were 18 years old, then they weren’t married either. They hadn’t even met until my friend was almost 40 years. This was also the case, my rational mind reminded me, with my wife and myself.
I was enjoying the experience of being 18 again and in college. I was really relishing the fact that we seemingly would be spending some great times in Hawaii. My rational mind was also reminding me that I needed to get a job because I had been spoiled of late with having money and all appearances seemed to suggest that this was definitely going to be a contrast with my current course of action within this "new arrangement."
The alarm then went off and I was awakened.
This was all a dream.
I lay there after “killing” the alarm letting the dream experiences conflict (casually it seemed, almost easing my passage into wakefulness) with reality.
I got up and passed my over 50 wife in the hall way as I was proceeding to the bathroom. I heard the coffeemaker start up by grinding beans in the kitchen. I felt the pain in my over 50 back as I was picking up some items that had fallen off the bureau onto the floor. I didn’t even want to think about the day that was ahead of me but my now fully awakened mind reminded me that I had to go to the eye doctor after work today to get new glasses. I began the morning routine to take my medications and juice to prepare the aging body for the day ahead.
What a contrast with the fun loving 18 year old that was looking at an amazing streak of luck to begin a four-year college experience with good friends in Hawaii.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Well - Part II
I woke up knowing I had just peed on myself. The warm fluid seeping down my right leg was at first a nice bit of warmth. I realized also that the rest of my body was pretty darn cold.
Then the pain worked its way into my consciousness. I didn’t know exactly how bad it was but I began to take an inventory. I was pretty sure I had some broken ribs and the right side of my face felt like it was on fire. I could still taste blood. I imagined that I might have lost some teeth. I tried to pick up my head and found that I was partially successful there.
I rolled over onto my left side because that side appeared to be in better shape and tried to get up on all fours. It was daylight but I had no inkling as to what time it was. The sun was cruel in its all-pervasive intensity. I got myself sitting up and then fell back to my haunches leaning against the alley wall. I could see people walking by on the avenue but I wasn’t sure that I wanted notice of my plight from other passersby. The damage report hadn’t been completed yet and I knew I needed some degree of medical attention but was still hoping that I could make it up to my room without drawing much attention. I needed to let work know what was going on and then get to a hospital.
It was then that my inventory efforts revealed that I didn’t have a wallet (meaning no ID or credit cards) nor did I appear to have keys. (Great this was getting to be a more serious situation by the minute).
Lacking any other plans, I started to try to crawl to the end of the alley. I had no choice but to try and solicit some aid from my fellow citizens. I croaked out a couple of attempts at a “Hey, over here… Hey… I need some help” but it came up probably no louder than a croaking and no more intelligible than a guttural slurring of an attempt at English.
I did manage to get within about 5 feet from the sidewalk on the avenue when I got the notice of someone. My one good working eye seemed to focus on someone wearing a lot of blue. To my surprise (horror, shame) it was a patrolman that approached and knelt by my broken form on the ground. His eyes seemed to relay that my situation might be a tad more dire than my preliminary damage reports had revealed.
“Sit still sir… I’m going to get an ambulance here…”
I attempted to stammer out a thanks but it probably sounded like a weak bark.
He produced a handkerchief out of a pocket and began to swipe at the right side of my head. His first touch produced a shooting pain and I withdrew my head quickly as if slapped.
“Ok, ok, just sit tight dude.” he said…
I began to hear the sound of an approaching siren and proceeded to allow myself to lay back down on the ground.
All I could do was wait. I don’t remember any other portion of the experience until I woke up much later in a hospital with some male nurse attending to an IV.
“Hey… ‘bout time you decided to check back in with the land of the living…”
Then the pain worked its way into my consciousness. I didn’t know exactly how bad it was but I began to take an inventory. I was pretty sure I had some broken ribs and the right side of my face felt like it was on fire. I could still taste blood. I imagined that I might have lost some teeth. I tried to pick up my head and found that I was partially successful there.
I rolled over onto my left side because that side appeared to be in better shape and tried to get up on all fours. It was daylight but I had no inkling as to what time it was. The sun was cruel in its all-pervasive intensity. I got myself sitting up and then fell back to my haunches leaning against the alley wall. I could see people walking by on the avenue but I wasn’t sure that I wanted notice of my plight from other passersby. The damage report hadn’t been completed yet and I knew I needed some degree of medical attention but was still hoping that I could make it up to my room without drawing much attention. I needed to let work know what was going on and then get to a hospital.
It was then that my inventory efforts revealed that I didn’t have a wallet (meaning no ID or credit cards) nor did I appear to have keys. (Great this was getting to be a more serious situation by the minute).
Lacking any other plans, I started to try to crawl to the end of the alley. I had no choice but to try and solicit some aid from my fellow citizens. I croaked out a couple of attempts at a “Hey, over here… Hey… I need some help” but it came up probably no louder than a croaking and no more intelligible than a guttural slurring of an attempt at English.
I did manage to get within about 5 feet from the sidewalk on the avenue when I got the notice of someone. My one good working eye seemed to focus on someone wearing a lot of blue. To my surprise (horror, shame) it was a patrolman that approached and knelt by my broken form on the ground. His eyes seemed to relay that my situation might be a tad more dire than my preliminary damage reports had revealed.
“Sit still sir… I’m going to get an ambulance here…”
I attempted to stammer out a thanks but it probably sounded like a weak bark.
He produced a handkerchief out of a pocket and began to swipe at the right side of my head. His first touch produced a shooting pain and I withdrew my head quickly as if slapped.
“Ok, ok, just sit tight dude.” he said…
I began to hear the sound of an approaching siren and proceeded to allow myself to lay back down on the ground.
All I could do was wait. I don’t remember any other portion of the experience until I woke up much later in a hospital with some male nurse attending to an IV.
“Hey… ‘bout time you decided to check back in with the land of the living…”
Monday, October 12, 2009
Well - Part I
I looked down at the whiskey in front of me as if it might suddenly begin to take on some hostile characteristics. Well, here you are again…three A.M. and too wrecked to navigate and only a few hours before you have to be at work and functional.
How does this happen? You knew when you walked in here that you were destined for trouble. Looking for love in all the wrong places. This is probably not the right way to find your next future ex-wife but, just as surely as the salmon swim upstream, you find a way to sit on this bloody bar stool again.
Oh sure, it was only going to be a few beers with some supper. I might watch a little bit of the ballgame but then I was going to head straight home and to bed at a reasonable hour. You have that one vendor meeting relatively early and you still haven’t finished the monthly report.
Yeesh, this is going to be ugly. You can feel the hangover coming on already. Get some water and pop the Vitamin B. You begin the internal debate as to the relative wisdom of two hours of sleep versus staying up and gutting it out. The body is screaming for the sleep but, the brain is woefully pleading its case that the sleep will only yield more intense fuzziness when arriving at the office a few hours. The logic (so the brain contends) is that getting going again will be roughing then searching out for the third or fourth wind that will come (albeit with not a small amount of discomfort).
First things first. Slide off the barstool and wonder towards the apartment. The crisp morning air is less cruel than you thought it might be. You pass a bum laying in the alley covered with garbage bags snoring loudly. The street lights illuminate the way with little pity towards the ache in your skull. Crossing the street you hear someone’s stereo playing some slow sadly sweet jazz playing through a window somewhere.
One more block to go…very few cars but that’s not surprising given the early hour, you lose the jazz music and detect the sound of garbage men starting their rounds probably a block or two over from your avenue.
Suddenly, the nausea is kicking in. The street and buildings begin that sickening little dance that indicates to you that you might lose that supper you had four and half hours ago. You arrive at your building but don’t think you can face the stairs right now. You begin breathing a little deeper trying to work through the gastro discomfort and clear your head. It appears that you aren’t going to be successful though. You begin to do the little drunkard’s prayer and looking for a spot in the alley to unload.
Oh shoot. There’s definitely a lesson here and you should wake up and take notice of it. How many times has it been this month alone that you find yourself leaning against some cement wall behind a dumpster upchucking a combo of cheap beer and fast food. I’m going to have to make up a story because there’s no way I’m going to be able to get to work now. I need a few hours to let the alcohol work through my system. I’ll call Randy and see if he can cover for me with the vendor.
Just then, I detected a presence in the alleyway. A young kid has risen from the shadows further down the alley and coming up on me fast. I spin around to face him as I feel the first blow to the side of my head. I shout out in pain but there’s another and then another. I raise my hands to attempt to ward off the blows as the darkness falls around me and I lose consciousness. The last thing I recall was a taste in my mouth that was a mixture of vomit and blood.
How does this happen? You knew when you walked in here that you were destined for trouble. Looking for love in all the wrong places. This is probably not the right way to find your next future ex-wife but, just as surely as the salmon swim upstream, you find a way to sit on this bloody bar stool again.
Oh sure, it was only going to be a few beers with some supper. I might watch a little bit of the ballgame but then I was going to head straight home and to bed at a reasonable hour. You have that one vendor meeting relatively early and you still haven’t finished the monthly report.
Yeesh, this is going to be ugly. You can feel the hangover coming on already. Get some water and pop the Vitamin B. You begin the internal debate as to the relative wisdom of two hours of sleep versus staying up and gutting it out. The body is screaming for the sleep but, the brain is woefully pleading its case that the sleep will only yield more intense fuzziness when arriving at the office a few hours. The logic (so the brain contends) is that getting going again will be roughing then searching out for the third or fourth wind that will come (albeit with not a small amount of discomfort).
First things first. Slide off the barstool and wonder towards the apartment. The crisp morning air is less cruel than you thought it might be. You pass a bum laying in the alley covered with garbage bags snoring loudly. The street lights illuminate the way with little pity towards the ache in your skull. Crossing the street you hear someone’s stereo playing some slow sadly sweet jazz playing through a window somewhere.
One more block to go…very few cars but that’s not surprising given the early hour, you lose the jazz music and detect the sound of garbage men starting their rounds probably a block or two over from your avenue.
Suddenly, the nausea is kicking in. The street and buildings begin that sickening little dance that indicates to you that you might lose that supper you had four and half hours ago. You arrive at your building but don’t think you can face the stairs right now. You begin breathing a little deeper trying to work through the gastro discomfort and clear your head. It appears that you aren’t going to be successful though. You begin to do the little drunkard’s prayer and looking for a spot in the alley to unload.
Oh shoot. There’s definitely a lesson here and you should wake up and take notice of it. How many times has it been this month alone that you find yourself leaning against some cement wall behind a dumpster upchucking a combo of cheap beer and fast food. I’m going to have to make up a story because there’s no way I’m going to be able to get to work now. I need a few hours to let the alcohol work through my system. I’ll call Randy and see if he can cover for me with the vendor.
Just then, I detected a presence in the alleyway. A young kid has risen from the shadows further down the alley and coming up on me fast. I spin around to face him as I feel the first blow to the side of my head. I shout out in pain but there’s another and then another. I raise my hands to attempt to ward off the blows as the darkness falls around me and I lose consciousness. The last thing I recall was a taste in my mouth that was a mixture of vomit and blood.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
The Bridge
A bridge to nowhere
He was looking out over the lake when he spotted a lonely looking soul staring down at the water from the edge of the bridge.
The bridge in this case had once been a gleam in some land developer’s eye but, became a joke around these parts as it remained standing there 1/3 of the way finished and perpetually waiting for the attention to make it useful and complete.
The barricades that had been constructed to keep people (mostly kids) off it had been pushed over and crammed down on the edges so that they really served purpose but, to indicate that the bridge was not supposed to be traversed.
She stood there long enough that he thought she might have been staring at something specific that she could see from the unique perspective of her position on the structure.
The sun began peeking over the horizon and would soon (probably about 15 minutes or so) have risen completely to begin to burn off some of the fog on the lake.
He didn’t believe that she was in any real danger initially but, the longer she stood motionless on the edge of that bridge the more concern began to creep into his consciousness.
He had been out flying that morning. It was cool and crisp and he liked the feeling of being up there when no one was around or doing any of the usual activities that lakefront towns, and village were apt to be doing during normal waking hours.
Now his trusty experimental plan was sitting idly on the edge of the beach while he sipped coffee and watched this curious young woman.
He decided that he should probably reach out to her to at least let her know that someone was there and watching. Perhaps that might jar her out of her reverie.
“He..Hey…” He stammered. “I mean, good morning!”
There was a little response. He thought he saw some degree of recognition in her body language reacting to the sound of his voice.
“How’s it going?”
She never lifted her face nor did she appear to waver in her attentive stare into the calm blue waters of the lake. The last I saw her, she seemed to have a sly smile on her face. She slowly toppled and fell... a moment later I heard the splash.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Morning Looms
The morning looms.
Darkness will gave way as it always does.
Do the morning routine.
Drive to work.
Curse Traffic.
Check the schedule.
Get to desk.
Login.
Curse Mickeysoft.
Curse Dell.
Check the voice mail.
Check the email.
Check the to do task list.
Get Coffee.
Go to meetings.
Get more Coffee.
Go to meetings.
Go to lunch.
Go to meetings.
Go back to desk.
Check the voice mail.
Check the email.
Go to late meeting.
Go back to desk
Check Voice Mail
Check email
Add to the to do list.
Add to the calendar.
Log off.
Curse Dell.
Curse Mickeysoft.
Go Sit in traffic.
Daylight fades. Darkness again.
Get home
Have Supper.
Login.
Curse Dell.
Curse Mickeysoft.
Curse ISPs.
Check the voice mail.
Check the email.
Check the to do task list.
Log off.
Sleep.
Alarm.
Morning Looms.
Living the dream.
Darkness will gave way as it always does.
Do the morning routine.
Drive to work.
Curse Traffic.
Check the schedule.
Get to desk.
Login.
Curse Mickeysoft.
Curse Dell.
Check the voice mail.
Check the email.
Check the to do task list.
Get Coffee.
Go to meetings.
Get more Coffee.
Go to meetings.
Go to lunch.
Go to meetings.
Go back to desk.
Check the voice mail.
Check the email.
Go to late meeting.
Go back to desk
Check Voice Mail
Check email
Add to the to do list.
Add to the calendar.
Log off.
Curse Dell.
Curse Mickeysoft.
Go Sit in traffic.
Daylight fades. Darkness again.
Get home
Have Supper.
Login.
Curse Dell.
Curse Mickeysoft.
Curse ISPs.
Check the voice mail.
Check the email.
Check the to do task list.
Log off.
Sleep.
Alarm.
Morning Looms.
Living the dream.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
What Happens...?
What happens when…?
What happens when a child cries?
What happens when a dream dies?
What happens when your heart lies?
Life goes on and I wonder…
What happens when a child cries?
What happens when a dream dies?
What happens when your heart lies?
Life goes on and I wonder…
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Nice Day For A ...
The families had gathered
The church was arrayed
With white bows and flowers
The bride’s father had paid
We were the guests, the friends,
The witnesses most keen
On seeing the ceremony,
A most loving of scenes
The weather was nice
The Gods had approved
The service was finished
With the bride and the groom
Now off to the reception
All cameras put away
The happy couple has left
And gone to the party.
The clean up was done
In silence by men
With whisk brooms and bags
The church was cleared again
With all of the wedding joy
A thing of the past
The pastor prepared
For the funeral mass
The church was arrayed
With white bows and flowers
The bride’s father had paid
We were the guests, the friends,
The witnesses most keen
On seeing the ceremony,
A most loving of scenes
The weather was nice
The Gods had approved
The service was finished
With the bride and the groom
Now off to the reception
All cameras put away
The happy couple has left
And gone to the party.
The clean up was done
In silence by men
With whisk brooms and bags
The church was cleared again
With all of the wedding joy
A thing of the past
The pastor prepared
For the funeral mass
Friday, October 2, 2009
Heroes
Two questions:
Where did all the heroes go? The folks we (the old folks – My Generation) grew up with admiring and wanting to model our own lives after. The politicians, the social leaders, the artists, the sports figures…
Who are this generation’s heroes? Where are they going to come from?
These questions I ponder.
When I was growing I vacillated between wanting to be an astronaut and wanting to pursue some kind of artistic career. I loved reading and music and had both literary heroes as well as musical heroes. There were the stars of stage and screen that were also inspirations. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Sean Connery (as James Bond). Musicians such as the Beatles, the doors, the Stones, The Who, along with songwriters like Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs, and Neil Young. Comics such as Jerry Lewis, Jack Lemon, Bob Hope, Jack Benny, George Carlin. Writers like Hemmingway, Thoreau, Jack Kerouac, Jim Dodge, J.R.R. Tokien, Hunter Thompson all shaped my view of the world and defined for me artistic goals and pursuits.
Social activism was a prominent subject in the news and in the daily vernacular. The debate over the War in Vietnam, the power of the presidency, the battle for social equality within this country (and around the world ) all fostered many heroes such as President Kennedy, his brothers Robert and Ted, Dr. Martin Luther King, Abby Hoffman and the Chicago 8, Ralph Nader, and many others were inspiring in their words and actions.
It strikes me as I put together the lists above that there was a fair amount of cross-over in the 1960s and 1970s where artists were involved in activism. Pete Seeger was as much a musical hero as he was a political activist. People like Harry Chapin’s involvement in World Hunger and Bob Dylan whose songs became stables of the civil rights movement. Andy Warhol, Ken Kesey, Alan Ginsberg and Timothy Leary all questioned the social and cultural norms that were prevalent in the decades preceding the 1960’s. The hippie idealist sentimentality and idolism was fueled by the music of the day and these incredible poets, philosophers and artists.
The lines have been blurred again. In general, the American public (can only speak to the culture that I’m most familiar with) have become very immune to political figures’ charisma. Most have been jaded, perhaps irrevocably by corruption, double speak, broken promises and disillusionment with the people and the political process that heroes aren’t likely to come from this camp any more.
Media stars are now extremely short lived. There aren’t prominent entertainers that ride a long career any more. Instead we have bands that might make two good albums and then are never heard from again. TV series rarely go beyond the 5 years it takes to gain syndication rights. In short the long standing “stars” of the previous generation (Elvis Presley, John Wayne, Frank Sinatra and the rat pack, Bob Hope) had careers that spanned decades. Today’s “stars” are rarely if ever going to have the same longevity in their careers. They seem to fizzle out a lot quicker and fade into obscurity.
Perhaps part of the change (or at least my perception of it) is that the methods of consumption of news, music and culture (at large) has changed so drastically in the last twenty years. We are exposed to much more information and media sources than ever before that perhaps the truly revolutionary and effective artistic accomplishments are harder to discern or more apt to be overshadowed by the onslaught of the pseudo-famous works of the “celebrity of the day” media mavens. The Octo-Mom, Jon and Kate, Paris Hilton… in short all the folks that are famous by today’s standards not so much for accomplishments but... just for being famous.
I think the heroes of today are likely going to come from very different sources. I believe that “new media” podcasters, Internet personalities, (and yes indeed, dare I say it...) bloggers are going to become the new cultural leaders.
Popularity of such social networking applications such as Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, SecondLife are giving rise to a new breed of celebrity. Your level status within World of Warcraft, the ability to own a personal virtual island, your creativity garnering a new breed of Web 2.0 site will garner the attention of the masses in new and different ways.
Using these new tools we are creating content at a pace never before seen in our society. We have capabilities to publish this content using freely available and easy to use tools that have revolutionized the publishing of media and artistic content. This gives way to faster and more accessible content that can be spread through a virulent ecosystem that fuels interest and gives rise to a different breed of celebrity.
Where did all the heroes go? The folks we (the old folks – My Generation) grew up with admiring and wanting to model our own lives after. The politicians, the social leaders, the artists, the sports figures…
Who are this generation’s heroes? Where are they going to come from?
These questions I ponder.
When I was growing I vacillated between wanting to be an astronaut and wanting to pursue some kind of artistic career. I loved reading and music and had both literary heroes as well as musical heroes. There were the stars of stage and screen that were also inspirations. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Sean Connery (as James Bond). Musicians such as the Beatles, the doors, the Stones, The Who, along with songwriters like Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs, and Neil Young. Comics such as Jerry Lewis, Jack Lemon, Bob Hope, Jack Benny, George Carlin. Writers like Hemmingway, Thoreau, Jack Kerouac, Jim Dodge, J.R.R. Tokien, Hunter Thompson all shaped my view of the world and defined for me artistic goals and pursuits.
Social activism was a prominent subject in the news and in the daily vernacular. The debate over the War in Vietnam, the power of the presidency, the battle for social equality within this country (and around the world ) all fostered many heroes such as President Kennedy, his brothers Robert and Ted, Dr. Martin Luther King, Abby Hoffman and the Chicago 8, Ralph Nader, and many others were inspiring in their words and actions.
It strikes me as I put together the lists above that there was a fair amount of cross-over in the 1960s and 1970s where artists were involved in activism. Pete Seeger was as much a musical hero as he was a political activist. People like Harry Chapin’s involvement in World Hunger and Bob Dylan whose songs became stables of the civil rights movement. Andy Warhol, Ken Kesey, Alan Ginsberg and Timothy Leary all questioned the social and cultural norms that were prevalent in the decades preceding the 1960’s. The hippie idealist sentimentality and idolism was fueled by the music of the day and these incredible poets, philosophers and artists.
The lines have been blurred again. In general, the American public (can only speak to the culture that I’m most familiar with) have become very immune to political figures’ charisma. Most have been jaded, perhaps irrevocably by corruption, double speak, broken promises and disillusionment with the people and the political process that heroes aren’t likely to come from this camp any more.
Media stars are now extremely short lived. There aren’t prominent entertainers that ride a long career any more. Instead we have bands that might make two good albums and then are never heard from again. TV series rarely go beyond the 5 years it takes to gain syndication rights. In short the long standing “stars” of the previous generation (Elvis Presley, John Wayne, Frank Sinatra and the rat pack, Bob Hope) had careers that spanned decades. Today’s “stars” are rarely if ever going to have the same longevity in their careers. They seem to fizzle out a lot quicker and fade into obscurity.
Perhaps part of the change (or at least my perception of it) is that the methods of consumption of news, music and culture (at large) has changed so drastically in the last twenty years. We are exposed to much more information and media sources than ever before that perhaps the truly revolutionary and effective artistic accomplishments are harder to discern or more apt to be overshadowed by the onslaught of the pseudo-famous works of the “celebrity of the day” media mavens. The Octo-Mom, Jon and Kate, Paris Hilton… in short all the folks that are famous by today’s standards not so much for accomplishments but... just for being famous.
I think the heroes of today are likely going to come from very different sources. I believe that “new media” podcasters, Internet personalities, (and yes indeed, dare I say it...) bloggers are going to become the new cultural leaders.
Popularity of such social networking applications such as Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, SecondLife are giving rise to a new breed of celebrity. Your level status within World of Warcraft, the ability to own a personal virtual island, your creativity garnering a new breed of Web 2.0 site will garner the attention of the masses in new and different ways.
Using these new tools we are creating content at a pace never before seen in our society. We have capabilities to publish this content using freely available and easy to use tools that have revolutionized the publishing of media and artistic content. This gives way to faster and more accessible content that can be spread through a virulent ecosystem that fuels interest and gives rise to a different breed of celebrity.
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