Rock Around the Clock

Some of you are starting to scare me. I do this harmless little treatise on my “get back my health” routine? And now a few of you say it’s inspired you to “give it a go.” Man, this may be more pressure than I can bear.  Who is going to hold my hand if I fall off the wagon?  Are there rehab centers for stuff like this?

 

So Sunday, in between football games? I hop on my bike and get in a quick 20 mile ride. Then, after the last game? I run down to the gym and lift weights for an hour. And then since no one is out on the basketball court because I’m the only one left in the building on a Sunday night?  I shoot hoops for a half hour. I go home exhausted with high expectations that I’d lost some weight. NARY AN OUNCE!

So Monday, when I’m actually writing this off line? I get up early, jump into my shorts and run the stairs for 10 minutes. Now, I have in fact knocked off a pound. But I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to hold.  So I run a bunch of errands which include breakfast,  and head off to class. I am pretty sure I’ve eaten enough to get that pound back.

AFTER class I get home, jump back into my shorts, and head over to the local tennis courts. There I hit balls for an hour.  (This is the kind of stuff I used to do when I was sixteen. For the record I am no longer sixteen.)

 Well I run around the court enough to work up a sweat, but even then I’m worried about that imagined pound. So what else can I do?

I remember a congratulatory response I get from Local TV anchor Jim Benemann. He then takes a wiser approach than many of you. He suggests I run a few laps FOR him.

So, off I go to the local high school and crank out a couple of laps for Jim. I personally would characterize the pace as being somewhere between a jog and a trot. DONE!

AND you should feel them Jim. For one thing, I ran them in the outside lane of the track. And I sprint the last 20 yards. FEEL THE PAIN!

I think I’m going to make this assigned reading for senior students who come to me in torture ‘cause they haven’t accomplished their “Life’s Goals” yet.

Ah, plenty of time ahead of you to follow your rainbows. No matter how serious or silly they might  be.

 

Addendum: You've heard people talk about their weight loss excitement when they can acutally see their feet again standing up? Well the thrill for me is rediscovering my appendectomy scar. Cool. And I probably shouldn't be sharing this about my belly button but here goes. My OUTIE? It's once again an INNIE! TOO COOL!

"Hey, Good Buddy!"

This posting will be a great opportunity for you to eavesdrop on a very personal letter I'm sending to my great personal friend and confidante, John Elway.

You know I told you in an earlier posting this would be a safe haven from politics for the next week? But, ah, here's the rub. My caveat to that vow was unless something really weird or wacky took place.  Then I would be all over it.

Well, welcome to weird and wacky.

More than 24, but less than 48 hours after I wrote that?  I get a phone call. And who is on the line?(recorded)   That's right.  My life long close personal friend, John Elway.

[I actually know some people who've never seen a football game in their life span.  For their sake, John Elway is a Hall of Fame Professional Football Player Emeritus.]

Well in this friendly," haven't talked to you in a long time Paul" tone, John says he wants to chat about his other really close personal friend Blah Blah.  Well, as it turns out,  ol' Blah Blah is running for governor and John thinks I ought to vote for Blah Blah.

Well, let's cut to the chase . I HAVE had some contact with John Elway over the years.  In fact we broke into a house together in an exclusive Denver area neighborhood a few decades ago.

 These people were dumb enough to donate their home so John could shoot a promotional video  hyping his first video game. I was the head umpire on  the fake  field. I don't know if John was offended? Or if he  holds it against me after all these years?

But  I'm pretty sure I was the only person on the set who didn't ask him for his autograph.

I've also interviewed John many times doing those obligatory football fan stories. I would get  to ask him those tough probing questions like, "Say John, how does it feel to win the SuperBowl?"

Now I'm really not much of a betting man? But I'm willing to put up a nickel that says John Elway has no  "Blinkin" idea who I am. And that sort of brings me to my point. 

John is asking me to vote for his good friend BLAH BLAH?

Now here's the deal John.  I'm one of those annoying people who refuses  to affiliate with a party.  I'm one of those guys you've really got to WOO to get his vote. Now I know where I'm leanin' on this....but if you really want me there on November 7th?

 Okay John, when I see you and BLAH BLAH smoking cigars together in your box at Invesco Field? When I see BLAH BLAH driving around town in one of your Elway Toyotas with the Elway License frame? When I see you and BLAH BLAH "high fiving" it at the Stutler Bowl...as your son Jack tosses a TD pass? When I see you and BLAH BLAH teeing it up together  on the 7th hole at Cherry Hills? When I see BLAH BLAH having a beer at the bar and chomping down on one your prime ribs at your steak house?

[By the way the view from Rod Smith and Terrell Davis' steak house (Trappers) puts  your's to shame]

When I see BLAH BLAH sneaking over to your place on Poker Night?  Maybe, just maybe I'd give him the nod. I just want to make sure he really IS your CLOSE PERSONAL FRIEND.

Whoops! Early voting.  You're too late. Sorry John, I don't vote and tell.

Thanks for callin'. Great to hear from you.

Pink Yarn

Twice a year a bunch of we "MATURE" broadcasters gather enmasse to swap old war stories. The soiree was initiated by three media account executives several decades ago.  

Over the years they've allowed a good number of we on-air and byline narcissists into the room. We've all good humouredly [humour spelled that way on purpose] accepted the group appellation, Denver Dinosaurs.

 As we've aged? Nobody wears makeup anymore. We all pretty much look and sound alike. If you're "GenX"? At first glance  you're likely to  peg us as Walmart greeters.

The man in the picture up there, John Rayburn, has never met a camera or microphone he didn't (love) like. And watch out. His legendary wit and energy will exhaust you. And believe me, you can't just hear one story. His punchlines are just transitions into the next saga.

If you are of our wizened era? You could walk around the room and recognize many a face and name tag. That is probably not true of the woman in that picture up there. And that's too bad.

That's Betty Demerest. Betty spent most of her adult years keeping a Radio/TV station, and then later just a Radio station, alive. While most of her legacy comes from what she did behind several desks? She holds one important distinction that doesn't get enough attention by my way of thinking.. 

Betty was one of the first voices in the country to be on the air on Sunday mornings reading us the "COMICS."

Betty is no slouch at spinning a yarn either.

There is one clear distinction between the Ad People  and the "talent." The Ad Person's joke is shorter and snappier. Even now he or she wants to get the point, and then close the deal.

I've missed the last two of these get togethers.  That has kind of an interesting effect. We all tell the same stories luncheon after luncheon, after luncheon. But with short term memory issues? A year and a half hiatus makes it seem like you're hearing them all for the first time.

I'd show you more pictures? But most of us don't like our pictures taken without makeup anymore. I asked permisssion for this one. And picture 2 is from  retired TV director Tom Dickenson, whose legacy will be his annual performance as Santa Claus. ( I hope you're reading this after all the kids have gone to bed.)

Say...there's a little sidebar story to go with my pursuit of the Pink Simi Driver.  Have you read the story about the Texas sheriff who has solved his jail over crowding issue?  How? According to AOL the guy has painted his entire jail pink.  The website tells us he makes the prisoners wear pink jumpsuits, even to court.

 AOL says in  the  year after going PINK? The sheriff records no, that's zero, repeat offenders booking rooms in his facility..

That quickly reminds me of a noise nuisance story I covered here in Colorado. In this rural county, a judge's punishment for violating the town's noise law? You must sit in his courtroom for two hours listening to classical music. If you like classical music? The judge has some old L.P.s of cowboy crooners like Roy Rogers and Gene Autry.  And there are some Rap and Hip Hop CDs.

I'm not there obviously, but rumor is it's pretty quiet up in that little corner of Colorado.

I don't know. What do you think? Pink or Gene Autry? Tough choice. But I'm thinkin' this is just the kind of thing that reminds John Rayburn of another story.

Sit down and prepare to linger a while.

"I went to a Garden Party...."

Well now my good friend Becky is sad because I say I'm going to backoff on BullyDozers to please my good friend Mindy. Well, in the lyrics of little Ricky Nelson?

"Ya can't please everybody, so you've got to please yourself."

Actually, in keeping with the political climate, I'm out to please anyone who plans to vote. 

"MY FRIENDS....I PROMISE YOU A BULLYDOZER IN EVERY GARAGE...or not."

If you are looking for a safe haven during the next week and a half? We probably won't be talking politics at this location. It's not that I don't care. It's just that I think I know too much, and therefore, kind of don't care.

Yeah, I'm going to vote.  I never ignore that privilege. I hope you don't either.  But I refuse to participate in, or encourage the participation in, the desperate posturing and rancor of the campaigns' final moments.

What we see, hear and read from all of them over the next week will be at best distortions. We'll hear promises that can't or won't be kept.

At worst we'll be hearing out and out lies. And somehow on the backside? Our system tends  to work. I don't why, but it does.

 Now if something really weird or goofy happens? I'm on it.  

Okay, here comes some sloppy, speculative, unfounded, probably wrong journalism that gives BLOGS a bad name.

Take a gander at PICTURE 2, and then get back to me.

 

Now I see this and shoot it from a distance with a long lens. I do not rush to the scene to confirm my suspicions. At first blush you might think, "what a wonderful MOM out supervising the kids having their winter fun."

Well, what I'm afraid I didn't capture?  In the next non-existent frame she is knocking the toddler off the sled. And in the next nonexistent frame? She jumps on the sled and throws herself off this Black Diamond one and half degree sloped suburban hill with shouts of glee.

Well I think I've effectively disguised her identity should this all be bogus. Maybe I miss some subtleties that will explain it all away. But if the speculation is in anyway true? Mommy, shame on you!!  

THE YEAR? 2025

LOCATION? PSYCHAITRIST'S OFFICE

"What seems to be troubling you Tom?"

"I think I hate myself."

"Hmmmmmm?"

"I just don't think I can go on!"

"Why do you think that is, Tom?"

"I don't think, I know.  It's because my mother threw me off my sled when I was four, and then stole it from me. Then she slides down the  hill laughing all the way. And here I am standing at the top of this big mountain all by myself."

"I see, hmmmmm!"

"What do I owe you Doc?"

"This is a horrible revelation.  Nothing, you owe me nothing."

"So I went to a garden party, and they all knew my name......." 

Deep in Thought

Well, it's still October and, right here?  We are under a blanket of a foot of snow. What's going on my little El Nino. (Can you believe it? I'm a morning person staying up late enough to watch the Craig Ferguson show.)  Do any keyboards include the TILDE? They must because I see it in print a lot.

I make my students listen to this tirade every year, so you might as well hear it as well. Why, when there is a major snowstorm anywhere, the media...all media...say, "make sure you get an early start."

Result? We all get on the highway at the same time and just sit there burning three dollar a gallon gas. And we're still late for work! All highways to my understanding have finite dimensions.

And, it's my understanding, they are build to accomodate predicted volume. No provisions, that I know of, have ever been made for the roads to just get bigger on the spot when it snows. 

Try these metaphors on for size. Ever try to push a sweet potatoe (Dan Quayle and I think that's how it ought to be spelled) through a keyhole?  How about an apple through a hose?

Anyway, I turn this little diatribe into a TV story many moons ago? I find many frustrated motorists coaxed into becoming parts of the sweet potatoe (It is an alternate, although not encouraged, spelling). 

I even get Dan Hopkins, then the spokesperson for the Department of Highways, now the mouth piece for the Governor, to agree with me. He says, "yeah it is a dumb idea to encourage everybody to get an early start."

But he also cautions me I might have a little trouble selling the story, politically speaking. Well, I should have listened. He knows a lot more about politics than I do.

At the end of the story the anchor (dear Bertha Lynn by name) says, "that's really an interesting story Paul."

We go to a commercial break.  Out of the break it's time for weather. Bertha says to the Weather Anchor (I'm 90 percent sure it is Marty Coniglio), " Marty, any advice to commuters with this storm coming." 

"Yeah, Bertha. Everybody should get an early start."

Clearly they know a lot more about politics than I do too.

There is a time in media history when Dan Hopkins is the traffic reporter for Triple A? His reports are aired over half the radio stations in this Metro Area. Noting similar conditions to which I've just described, in his report,  he says somethinglike?

"If you'll all just leave for work at your regular time, and slow down to a safe speed, we'll all just be about ten or fifteen minutes late to work.  LATE but ALIVE."

So the Triple A phones are ringy ding dinging?

"Good Morning. Triple A!"

"This is Bill Coors! I want to talk to that traffic idiot who says it's okay for my employees to show up 15 minutes late. If they show up late they'll lose their beer break."

"Good Morning. (with depleted enthusiasm) Triple A!"

"This is Charles Gates. (probably from the grave) The reason people are on the road at all this morning is because my company's employees show up to work on time and make tires and fan belts.  Let me talk to the Dan Hopkins person."

You know it's probably better to just call in sick.

Advice to students. Don't send me an email saying there is no way you can make it to school with all the snow that fell at your house. 

That is, don't send that email until you've done your homework. That is, done your homework, and know where I live.

These are funny emails to read when I've done my homework. I've done my homework and know you just live a few blocks away from me.

One year I get one of these emails detailing the transportation problem of having to get to school,  in the snow,  having to drive a specific vehicle? 

You guess it.  It is a later model of the conveyance I use to find MY way to campus.

Here's some ironies, in my mind.  So it snows a foot?

Let me give credit where credit is certainly due.

The mailperson holds true to the company's motto. The mail arrives.

[NEITHER SNOW, NOR HEAT, NOR RAIN, NOR GLOOM OF NIGHT....BLAH, BLAH, BLAH]

And hey, it's bottled water delivery day. There are heavy footprints in the front yard.  And there are two big hunkin' bottles of water sitting on my front porch. But guess who the no-shows are?

The paper isn't here. Now in ancient history when the paper is delivered by some 12 year old on his Schwin?  Understandable.

But in this age when the paper person is a soccer mom, delivering the paper from her heated HUM V, driven by GPS, paper slung by automated slinging device?  There really should not be an excuse.

And here's one I'll never understand.

When former Energy and Transportation Secretary Federico Pena was Mayor here? When he faces a storm of even greater proportion?. What implement does he  enlist to pack down the snow on the streets to make them passable?

You probably didn't guess. He employs those big ol' monstrous go anywhere, anytime, GARBAGE TRUCKS.

So who doesn't show up for duty in this snow storm?

This time you DID guess it. GARBAGE TRUCK!

I didn't get a good picture of one? But a garbage can caked with a foot of snow makes a dandy snowman (person).  

And, Oh! In the mail? The Garbage Truck BILL.

I promise my friend Mindy I will be temperate for a while on the Backyard Bullydozer saga.  I can't afford to lose her.  But I must follow up on the espying of a the Pink Simi sitting amongst the BullyDozers. 

I did track down the project manager. He then directs me to an assistant project manager who might know who'd be brave enough to own and/or drive a pink semi. 

Well I get busy and humbled by Mindy's ennui. So I just kiss it off for the time being?  And then I head to work?  I'm late and pushing the speed limit on a major East-West Thoroughfare.  But I'm not going so fast that I miss a "big ol' pink" semi racing in the opposite direction. 

I damn near slam on the breaks and jump the median. Oh, those missed TV opportunities.

That's all moot now anyway since I get topped by stepdaughter Rhonda.  In case you haven't read her comment?  She knows of a trucking company in the Bay Area that boasts a fleet of LAVENDER semis, all decked out in lace curtains. And all the drivers? Uh, huh! Women.

I'm still going to get the Pink Semi story, but it pales in comparison. Lavender?  Whoa!

Now that's deep!

[THIS JUST IN: THE PAPER JUST ARRIVED. SHE MUST HAVE TAKEN MY ADVICE AND LEFT AT HER REGULAR TIME.]

 

MY Loss is MY Gain

Yeah, that's me. I'm in a pair of pants that were tight 4 months ago. And that's a tee shirt I haven't been able to get into for 6 years. For the record I'm 6 inches thinner around waist and 33 pounds lighter. That's it for the ad isn't it?  Now I just have to jump up and down and tell you how it's changed my life, and I feel sexy again, right?

I tell myself I'm not going to talk about this unless a bunch of people get brave enough to actually say something to me.  So here's some conversations I'm having?

"Wow!"

"Thanks."

"Subway?"

"No!"

"Atkins? South Beach I'll bet!"

"Uh, Uh!"

From my generation?

"You must be on the Mayo Clinic Diet."

"FAT CHANCE!" ( The Mayo Clinic always disavowed any connection with that regimen.)

"Pritikin?"

"Not on your life."

From the concerned:

"I was afraid to ask for fear you might be seriously ill."

"No, no, no, no! Relax.  I'm good."

I'll tell you HOW good a few paragraphs down.

I'm blabbing about this, in part, because it forces me into a commitment. I WILL NOT gain a pound through the holidays. Hold me to it. I've never been able to achieve that goal.

I'm also talking about it because being sexy again means nothing if you can't brag like this:

Cholesteral total: 125

LDL:                     46

HDL:                     69

BP  average         116/72

I'm still on some MEDS, but barely.

So how? Well, first I talk to my doctor who removes all excuses.

"Sorry Paul, but there are absolutely no limits on your exercise."

And here is some shocking  revolutionary doctor's advice:

"Eat lots of fresh vegetables and fruits and limit your intake of red meat."

Earth Shaking, don't you think? Gosh if I'd known that earlier?

[Disclaimer: Don't try any of this without consulting with your own medical guru.]

I'm going to give my get in shape program a name. I'm going to call it the LTM plan.

"Eh?"

On most given days I can't find my glasses, my pen, my cell phone, my school bag. Why? Like many of you in my age category and plus, my short term memory sucks. Therefore, I've decided to rely on my long term memory, or LTM.

So I question myself:

"When in your life were you in good shape?"

    High School Football , Warehouse, Peace Corps Training, Early Teaching years, Late 30's.

How did you get there?

   Two a days, 100 pound flour sacks, two a days, running.

What did you eat?

   Lots of fresh fruits and vegetables, and an occasional steak.

How often did you exercise?

   Twice a day

What kinds of exercise?

   Table Tennis, Unicycle, Football,  Basketball,  Running,  Jogging,  Body Surfing, Volleyball, Running on Beach, Cycling, Hiking, Skiing, Weight Lifting, Tennis, and some Swimming.  

What were your stumbling blocks?

    I'd get bored. No one to play with.  I'd say to myself I was too busy. I'd get injured. I'd get competitive and frustrated I couldn't win all the time. I'd get depressed over some key life event.  I'd just decide it was time to relax.  I'd slip into some less than healthy extra curricular activites. I'd smoke. I'd drink.

Well, okay then. Here's the LTM

   I'm eating lots of fresh fruit and vegetables.

   I'm doing something physical at least once a day. [My GOAL is to do two a days every day.]

   I plan solo exercise activities. Someone to play with is always a bonus. 

   I meditate to get through life frustrations.

   When I get lazy I remind myself how good I feel.

   I don't smoke.

   I drink in moderation.

Sorry, but that's it.  That's Paul's LTM get in shape plan. No charge!

Can't be any good then, can it?

By the way? On my last entry some of you thought I Photo Shopped that Pink Semi.  Not so. Somebody actually owns and drives a PINK SEMI.  I'll see if I can find out who.  It may take a while.  Be patient.

I'd love to stick around and chat, but I've gotta RUN.

In The Pink

It was the Peace Corps, in it's early recruiting days,  that popularized the maxim, " Is the glass half full? Or is it half empty?"

It is I who hopes to popularize the maxim, "Is that a PINK semi or is it just SEMI pink?"

Peace Corps? Semi? Pink? Water? Full? Empty? Connection?

NONE!

Relevance to today's posting?

NONE!

I won't say my life's desires are complete. But today I can scratch off a long time yearning from my master list.  While it won't be moving pictures?  I can finally illustrate with a STILL PICTURE the phenomenon of WILD LEAF TEA!

[SEE PICTURE 2]

This BLOG posting, by the way, is dedicated to my good friend and colleague Jim Weis. It is Jim who every fall has to listen to my rambling frustration at not being able to tell this story.  WILD LEAF TEA, you say?

The Television Station I retire from ( and the one Jim Weis still works for ) sits above a major creek.  Well, one year in the mid 80's I'm working on the assignment desk.  It's a late October event. For no good reason it is pouring down rain. [Late October moisture in this town tends to be white and fairly solid.]

Well all morning long on this late October day the phone is ringing at the desk.  And on the other end of the line? People, hundreds of them, calling to report this strange FOAMY substance in the middle of the creek. 

This is at a time when the EPA and state and local health agencies  are cracking down on illegal dumping. Citizens are ready at a wink to report any environmental crime. 

Well, I set out to get to the bottom of this foamy mystery?  And the health departments ARE out investigating. Problems:

1. The stuff is everywhere, flowing through at least five metropolitan jurisdictions. 

2. There is no one clear source.

3. If health people are able to indentify the substance? For some reason they are not talking.

I spend all day long trying to piece this story together. And at the end of the day? I talk to a deep throat public works official in the smallest jurisdiction involved. She makes my day.

"Yeah, I know what it is?"

"REALLY?"

"It's TEA!"

"EH?"

"When leaves have been lying around on the ground for a while, they start to decay.  When they decay they release tannins just the same as tea leavesdo in your cup."

"Okay, I'm with you."

"Bodies of water that play host to the leaves turn dark and brackish."

"Uh, huh!"

"Under normal circumstances, raking, freezing and snow pack pretty much cover up the process."

"BUT?"

"Thats right.  When you get a heavy rain in mid to late fall, it causes the tea to foam up. It would happen with your Darjeeling at home if you put it under a faucet."

"So that's what we're looking at in the creek?"

"98 percent sure."

"So I'm going to send a reporter and photographer your way to get this all on tape."

"No you're not.  This was all off the record."

"But?"

CLICK!

Turns out no official wants to call a LEAF a LEAF, because they are only 98 percent sure. I put the story in my little evergreen list to check on every fall? 

In TV the general rule is if you don't have pictures?  You don't have a story. Well, as a reporter, I try to do that story every year for 17 years.  I can never get the video.

Okay, let's jump forward to today.  Our friend Cheri from Ireland is coming to town.  We're hosting a get together for her.  So I'm out cleaning up the yard.  I notice the bird bath and a small pond are really looking dark and brackish.  Nobody needs to see that, I'm thinking?

So? I hook the high powered nozzle up to the hose and walk over to the pond.  I just shove the nozzle into the water and let 'er rip.

"OH MY, OH MY!"

It's foam just like the foam I saw in the 80's.  It just keeps coming pouring over the side of the pond.  I am looking at and smelling a combined maple, sage, ash, scrub oak, dogwood, TEA!

Now I could kick myself for not thinking of just doing a demonstration for a camera to tell that story all those years? But people my age should not engage in the act of trying to kick one's self.  I'm just finally glad I CAN FINALLY TELL YOU WHAT IT IS! 

I hope some of those concerned citizens that called in are still alive to read this.  Jim is just going to be happy I'll finally shut up about it.

Yeah, I tasted it.  Can't say as I'd recommend it? But maybe, like green tea? Maybe it's good for you?

I was going to say it'll "put you in the PINK!"

Show of hands! How many of you know or understand that expression?

I didn't think so.

Judgement Day

The BullyDozer gallery is open again today.  I hope you stop by and feel free to constructively judge my effort to humanize these behemoths.

I'm afraid it's still a little too early to pass judgement on the work these Big Guys Dozers are carrying out in the backyard. It's kind of tough to hold back that judgement right now.  And it's not a case of some pressing issue.  It's just that 'tis the season. 

"Eh?"

Well we've just finished mid-terms. And faculty have just gotten their student evaluations back on their efforts in the Spring. It could be a coincidence? 

I'm sure there is some value in those evaluations.  But I have at least one concern. I equate them to some degree to the work of media consulting groups.  These "guys" come to town, do some in- house investigations, hold some focus groups and then head back to Iowa or New Jersey.  Six months later they deliver the results of their investigation.

Six months in the media world today can be generational.  New technology has likely shown up. New formats have already kicked in adjusting to the last consult.

Then a media conglomerate shows up and swallows the station. It changes the format and network affiliation. The new owners put their own managers in place. The new managers get rid of the current talent and journalist rosters and put the new people in place.

AND THEN? They hire a consultant.

Anyway....with all this evaluating going on?  I get to thinkin'.  My life has really been full of mentors. And when things get a little skewed?

NOPE, NO WAY.  There are a TON of people RESPONSIBLE for who I am. But none of them are to BLAME. It's not always easy, but I can live with that.

Now wait a minute. Maybe I could lay some blame on a BullyDozer? Naw! They're okay.

 

 

NUKE is just one syllable!

Some historian or linguist is going to get all over me for this.  But you know what?  What the heck! All history is urban or rural legend, RIGHT?

If the legend helps illustrate your point?  I say, as long as it's not hurting anybody?  Go with it.

So, the legend says, the Spanish Castillian dialect can trace it's so-called "lisp" to one of two kings.  They would be King Phillip the Second [The Tooth?] or King Ferdinand.  Story is one of them spoke with a lisp, and his Spanish subjects not wanting to offend him? They, too, decide to "lisp."

So? Barcelona becomes Barthelona?  Madrid becomes Madrith?

Okay, I know phonetically it's not a true dysfunctional lisp. I know the evolution of language is far more complex to attribute it to one monarch.

Still?  The Iberian Myth is going to be very helpful in the discussion I'm about to initiate.  So work with me.  Let's hang on to the legend for a few minutes.

[DISCLAIMER: The Following is not a political statement. It is the creation of a "flaming" Independant.  As a former journalist I pride myself on my ability to straddle the barbed wire fence of public opinion and policy. Even in retirement I reserve the right to make fun of all politicians and historical figures.}

 

Every King or Queen, every Prime Minister, every Dictator, every President, day dreams of the legacy he or she will bequeath to future generations.

Certainly his handling of Iraq will be on "GW"s bequeathing plate. So too, now, will be the fashion and result of his dealing with North Korea's messin' around with atomic energy.  The jury is clearly still out on both issues. 

However, there is one position our Chief Executive has taken that is clearly being dished up for us to shun or absorb NOW! Each of us will have to decide for ourselves where we stand and what we will do with this decision, on into OUR  futures, and our CHILDREN'S futures.

"What are you talking about Paul? Get to the point for heaven's sake."

Okay.  Quite simply, since he balks at any suggestion of reform, we are going to have to choose how we are going to pronounce the word spelled, N-U-C-L-E-A-R.

This distinguished man of Yale letters is adamantly determined we will all say together, come on now!

"NEW CUE LURE." Come on now, he's our leader.  Do we go with it?  In a couple of centuries from now we can always plant a scholar or phonetisist who will up and say,  " it's just an urban myth. The pronunciation NEW CUE LURE just evolved with the dynamism of the American English dialect.

And you know? I could almost join the bandwagon at that level? 

But then this morning in his brief speech from the White House?  After tossing in a few NEW CUE LURES? 

He hits us with a new one?  There is trouble out there on that "Korean PIN IN SHOE LUH."   Yuk! And while I didn't tape it, I'm thinking I heard it in the adjectival form later on? Didn't he also say "PIN IN SHOE LURE?"  If not, I'm sure it's on it's way.

Remember how George Senior bumped his head all the time?  And he couldn't get passed calling that Iraqui guy SUH DAMN?

It has to be a dominant male genetic link. And so, if we're patient? The girls are adopted.  They shouldn't pick it up. And Laura doesn't talk that way.  Let's just humor him for a couple of years and go back to the original before some historian pencils it in to "Revised Edition 2008." That's what I think. 

Send me to the guillotine if you like.  I will never utter PIN IN SHOE LURE.

Shame on you YALE!

How you votin' BullyDozer?

 

Redemption

I rake leaves today?  That's a very sad time for me? You?  Here we have this enthralling array of color that we celebrate for a couple of months? And we rake it up and hide it in SHINY BLACK PLASTIC BAGS just as soon as it hits the ground. We often color average as we put all the leaves in Orange bags and let them stick around for Halloween.

I think I include some posey I write a long time ago about leaves last year?  I'll have to go back and look.  If not, I'll have to include it this week sometime.

We go to hear my neighbor sing last night. His name is Todd Helvig.  You can say, "oh yeah, I heard of him when he just got going as a solo act."

He is struggling to define his genre and it is so excting to see that  struggle once again going on in a coffee house.  Amplifiers and Starbucks just about ruin that concept?  But I am now hearing students come back to class on Mondays saying, "heard some great poetry read this weekend."  "Wow you should have heard that accoustical set at the Coffee Pot Saturday night."

"Anybody catch that funky soul country gospel folk blend act down at the Cat Gut?"

Anyway, Todd has a fantastic Baritone voice with some midrange that perpendiculates your arm hair when he decides to kick it in.

And he is finding lyrics sucked from  his soul that ignore Iambic Pentameter. Some phrases I remember? "I swim until I drown," "I get rich from your hand I can hold," "I still need redemption."

Let me talk about the last phrase?  And that's because you have to be there to catch the subltlety. Any of you who have Scandanavian roots will understand.  You see in the riff right before that phrase? Todd's vocal bands are stretched to the max...a huge thoracic breath is carrying the anguished message blocks away?  But when he gets to the redemption phrase? His voice drops to a high energy softness. The Scandanavians invent the understatement.

I recall my Dad coming home from fighting a grocery store fire? He is limping slightly and still smells of burning carrots and cauliflower?

"Are you okay Dad?"

"Yep!"

"Weren't you scared?"

"Nope. Get to sleep."

"Are you hurt?"

"Nah. See you in the morning. Did you get that lumber picked up behind the garage like I asked?"

"No!!!!"

"Well get it done before you go to school tommorrow."

I'm watching a large grocery store totally go up in flame?  I'm hearing constant explosions? I later discover it's aerosol cans along the aisles giving in to the heat.

What I see are flames leaping from the roof like you see when they top trees in a forest fire?  Huge plumes of black smoke are rising into the air with each explosion.

What I also see? I see my Dad up on the roof  holding the end of a fire hose. I see one of those explosions?  Then I don't see my Dad.? He is gone. He falls down  in to the rafters below and somehow makes his way to the ground floor and out of the fire and calmly jumps back into the battle.

And what is it I ask him again?

"Are you okay?"

" Yep."

Actually? That's pretty communicative for my Dad.

He doesn't even have the courtesy to say, "guess I need some redemption." 

This clearly limits my readership. Most of you are scratching your scalps, saying, "Eh?"

Every Scandanavian, or son or daughter of a  Scandanavian, is saying, "OH YEAH!"

Or you're saying, "YAH!"

So, it's Sunday again.  And the BullyDozers just sit there stoically looking down on us.  They are being SO Scandanavian. I doubt if we ask them, "you guys okay?"

I doubt we'd even get a "Yep"or a "Nope" out of them.

[They also have these great baritone voices that carry for miles.]

You know if a bunch of Scandanavians caught me emoting about fall leaves? Or Dads? Or music?  I'm pretty sure they'd kick me out of Minnesota.  So let's just keep this between us, yah?

BullyDozer Exhibit

Please allow me to acknowledge the fine work of my assistant, Photo Shop. He has really opened my mind and eyes to the other sides of BullyDozers. Thanks Photo Shop.

SPECIAL NOTE. You may remember that this BullyDozer project is an extension of Chambers Road? Well, according to my learned Cuz Errol, his gorgeous sister Sheila once attended a small school on Chambers road when it was extended in the other direction.

Oh, will the ironies ever cease.

How big Errol? One, two rooms?

The Gallery

[BULLYDOZER ART GALLERY, OPEN 24-7. (no smoking in the gallery) CHILDREN UNDER 40 MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY AN ADULT.]

 

Before we get into BullyDozer Art? Let's take a few detours.

Do you ever just get proud of your brain?  You know it just takes off and does it's thing without your help?  And it comes out great.?

So here we are in Vitamin Cottage. That's a health food store with groceries.  For those of you in California it's kind of like a poor man's Trader Joes.

So anyway?  We're in the store checking out.  It's been dry lately and at the last minute I'm thinking, "I should get some lip balm."

So I say it out loud. "You got any lip balm?"

I think I hear the clerk say, "There's bird seed right in front of you."

"Huh?"

I like to think for my age I've got a pretty open mind. I don't think everything uttered has to pass a logic test before it's launched.  But I'm getting nowhere with this puzzle.

"Huh?"

It turns out it's a hearing issue.

"That's Burts Bees (not bird seeds) right in front of you."

Most of you will recognize Burts Bees as a brand name for a variety of ointments including a LIP BALM.

"Thanks," as I pick my Burts Bees off the RACK. I'm placing it in my hand.

"Of course we have all kinds of them over here.  You want to take a look before I ring you up?"

"Yeah!"

So I'm finding this organic lemon-lime balm derived from HEMP? Why not! Live dangerously.

[relax DEA. I don't inhale.]

Well our economic status isn't such that I can go out and buy two lip balms "willy nilly" any time I want.

Decision time. 

"Well I think I'm going to go with the HEMP.  So just one thing left to do. I'm going to have to put BURT BACK ON THE RACK."

It just comes right out of some autonomic brain synapse and slides off my tongue.  And I am just SO amused with myself. Some around me are giggling, some groaning, and some just standing here with jaws unhinged. 

For the latter group? Think "Do you know the way to San Jose." Think Dionne Warwick. Think Angie Dickenson. (Don't tell Peggy. I've always been MADLY in love with Angie Dickenson.)

Well now that we have BurtBackontheRack, let's move on. You're killing me here?  You've never heard of Burt Bacharach? Plays the piano, all teeth, horrible voice? But somehow gets to Angie Dickenson before me?

Quite a few of you have been asking why I use so many ?????? marks in my postings? Well I'm TRYING to keep this a conversation.  And it's my observation? That's the inflection we use when we talk to each other.  Listen for it.

Now where were we?  Oh, yeah.  The BullyDozer Art Gallery is now open to the public. I always hate it when I'm in a museum or gallery and feel pressured to take in and absorb every piece of work on the wall in one standing.  So, in case you are of a common bent?  Or if you are just a person who knows what I'm talking about when I refer to the "Silver Bullet?"  I'm just going to dole out the BullyDozer series a couple of pieces at a time. It will give us all time to explore our own relationships with Heavy Equipment.

I hope, in the end, you'll decide I've given these magnificent "Earth Devouring" beasts their due.

I hope, like me, you'll begin to see their souls, their strengths, their weaknesses, their passions for dirt.

And hey, if I, or you get inspired to go another direction? Let's just go there. Maybe a BullyDozer will give us ride?  [THINK ABOUT IT.]

"Okay, Governor, go ahead and cut the ribbon!"

[Peggy just read this and says you should magnify the artwork for full effectiveness. Now she knows about Angie.]

What a View!

That's Pikes Peak back there. Katharine Lee Bates writes "America The Beautiful" up there in 1893. She, of course, is high on oxygen deprivation at the time.

For every bucket of dirt they haul out of our backyard?  We get to see another inch of Pike's Peak. I guess that's a good thing.

"I'm sorry, though, Katharine. We're going to have to lose that "amber waves of grain" riff."

"And sweetie? I think we're going to have to keep 'The Star Spangled Banner' as the national anthem?  Catchy tune though. Maybe you can get them to sing it during the 7th inning stretch?" 

"Alright you Bullydozers. Keep digging!  LET'S SEE SOME MOUNTAIN. WHAT DO YOU THINK WE'RE PAYING YOU FOR? MOVE IT!"

"Well, honey, when we sell?  Now we can finally say, 'MUSICALLY HISTORICAL MOUNTAIN VIEW!' "

"Come on ASCAP! You can't touch me on this one."

Fair and Balanced

I have to say it! There is always a "Silver Lining." In this case it's "Gold." Those fall Ash leaves look pretty good with dirt and a bullydozer for background. Of course the blue sky doesn't hurt. See, I can be fair and balanced.

Quit lookin'! There isn't any more, although I intend to do a series on BullyDozer art one of these days. Hang on for that!

Nap Time

It's Sunday, a day of rest for the BullyDozers.  It's so strange. Hardly at the same level of significance, but it brings back 9-11 to me.  My beat is the airport? When I get there I am in awe of the silence hanging over a normally bustling transportation hub. The very distant rumble of f-16s circling at 40 thousand feet just adds to the quieting shock. Something isn't right.

I can also remember standing in the middle of a major highway shut down during rush hour.  A sniper has been randomly shooting at traffic. I feel so eerily out of place. There should be traffic noise, not gunshots and concussion bombs.  

In both cases I want to WHISPER for no good reason.

So today there is no constant drone of heavy equipment on the hill behind me. The waves in my water glass have gone to calm. There is no wind carrying dust to attack my sinuses. All the dogs along the back fence are struck dumb.  Really, for the first time since they broke ground out here, I can clearly see what they've done.

Oh my! Can I see what they've done! I don't want to WHISPER. I WANT TO SHOUT.

Like the BullyDozers I'm going to take a break here. I want to let some thoughts gel. I hope you'll come back. It's not going to be nearly as dismal and forboding as I'm teasing it. I've just taken in a ton (hyperbole) of impressions and need to let them take form.  Kind of like building a highway, eh? Talk to you soon.

Well, I'm back.  I'm actually up on the hill noting a total absence of life.  I think that's what's getting to me.  Nothing is crawling, nothing is smelling, nothing is growing, nothing is breathing.

I can see some evidence of past life. There are weather formed stones of varying sizes popping up every once in while in the lifeless dirt. Something must have been going on here over time. Amid the shades of brown, gray and white, you can be left to imagine what lived here in other eons. ( They did find a wooly mamoth  or a mastodon in a construction site less than two miles from here.)

Actually you don't have to think back that far?

[SEE PICTURE TWO]

 Just two months ago I was looking up at an admittedly desert-like landscape.  There were lots of yuccas and scrubby pasture grass.  And there were rabbits, coyotes, cattle, a llama, an occasional antelope, joggers, kids exploring, sandlot golfers working on their drives, and lovers holding hands walking up to watch the sunset. 

Now? Nothing! This hill defines DEAD!

You know? I think I'm going to welcome the BullyDozers back. They are at least alive.  And maybe I can convince one of them to PLANT something, ANYTHING! Even a dandelion will do.

Whoa!

I can't believe I'm about to say this so I'm going to WHISPER it. "Even highway traffic will be an improvement over THIS! Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you up."