Time to ignore social media, or, not another awards show!
February 22, 2015
I get it. Maybe you’re not so interested in my Dancing with the Stars ravings, or my weekly sharing of a “Downton Tabby” photo, or my steady stream of craft beer push-posts from Untappd. On the other hand, I am only one person. On awards show night, two-thirds of the world is live-posting. That’s hard to get away from and so I take an eighteen-hour sabbatical from social media. It’s a little better since muffling hashtags became possible in Twitter; Facebook really needs to develop some form of that feature. Fear not, gentle reader, the purpose of this post is not to bitch (but thanks for listening!).
It’s true, though, that my idea for this post began with a friend’s link, in honor of the Oscars tonight, to a list of things which you no longer find in movie theaters and his follow-up request to name the first movie we ever saw in a theater.
The first two movies I remember seeing in the theater were Bambi and The Aristocats. I was a tot long before the Disney princess machine sprang to life. Going to the theater was a special occasion. As with other “out” experiences of my childhood, there were no frills. When we ate at a restaurant, we just had water to drink because soda pop or milk was too extravagant an expense. If we went to the county fair, there was no cotton candy or game-playing, because it simply wasn’t necessary. It was fun to be there and just walk around looking at things and animals. At the theater, we didn’t indulge in popcorn or other snacks.
I’m inclined to think that Bambi was my first movie. My mom took me. All I can remember about the experience is that I became hysterical when Bambi’s mom was killed in the forest fire. We probably went to see this movie because my mom loves rabbits, and Thumper, of course, was a major character. That backfired on her.
I’m inclined to think that The Aristocats was my second movie because after the experience of Bambi, my mom probably wanted to make sure we saw an upbeat story. I don’t remember much about that movie other than that the lady cat wore a pearl necklace. She did, right?
In conjunction with remembering the movies, I thought about the Ada Theater in which I saw them. You might recall from other posts that I think of my childhood town fondly. The theater was right on Main Street. It still is. This afternoon I found this nice page about it.
My third movie theater memory is from high school, after we had moved back to my parents’ home town in Wisconsin. I was fifteen and my friend was fourteen, and her dad had dropped us off at the theater downtown. I don’t remember what the movie was that we were going to see, but it must have been rated PG, because we were going in on our own, but perhaps it was PG with a racy reputation, because my friend’s dad was inspired to say that I could easily pass for sixteen or seventeen. I thought absolutely nothing of it at the time, but when I was older and recalled it, I realized that it was a kind of creepy thing for him to have said. Don’t worry, I don’t remember any other questionable behavior by him.
So in honor of Oscar, those are some way-back movie memories. In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve watched Secretary, In Your Eyes, and Unfinished Sky. I recommend all three.
Pooh and Pinkle Purr
September 7, 2011
I didn’t anticipate that memories of being a child, reading, would flood over me when I pulled this A.A. Milne anthology from my bookcase this evening. I didn’t anticipate how familiar nearly all of the illustrations would be, as if I had last seen them yesterday. I didn’t remember that I had known and memorized Milne poems that weren’t even about Winnie-the-Pooh.
It takes me right back to our house on Main Street. I suppose when I was a kid I had individual volumes (and they’re probably in a box at my parents’ house). I don’t really remember the vessels, I just remember the content. Sitting on the hassock next to the window that looked out on the front porch, absorbing Winnie-the-Pooh.
I didn’t remember how much there is. Granted, the book I have now is set in a pretty large point size. Nevertheless, it’s a big book! Stories and poems, and so many wonderful illustrations. E.H. Shepard must have tossed off these watercolors like it was nothing in order to be so prolific.
I guess this makes the case for paper books sticking around, a question about which I’ve thus far been ambivalent. I can’t imagine that I’d be having these waves of nostalgia if I had looked at the stories on an iPad. I’ve “read” a Peter Rabbit story on the iPad, and sure, it’s cute that you can tap on things to make them jump or squeak, but I think it’s a novelty that detracts from consuming the words and feasting on the illustrations. I don’t think forty years later I’d be sitting here thinking, “Gosh, those were the days when I touched Peter’s ear and it wiggled.” Or, I’d remember that I could touch Peter’s ear to make it wiggle and not much else.
Leafing through this Milne anthology, I was transported. And it became immediately obvious that I know what book I’m going to read next.
For a long time they looked at the river beneath them, saying nothing, and the river said nothing too, for it felt very quiet and peaceful on this summer afternoon.
“Tigger is all right really,” said Piglet lazily.
“Of course he is,” said Christopher Robin.
“Everybody is really,” said Pooh. “That’s what I think,” said Pooh. “But I don’t suppose I”m right,” he said.
“Of course you are,” said Christopher Robin.
Best day ever? Maybe?
August 13, 2011
It would be hard for me to choose the best ever day of my life. Not because there have been so many, but because I’d probably end up not remembering the one that would qualify as best ever. I can pick out good days here and there, but by and large, none strikes me as the winner. But if I had to say, I’d go with the day last summer when I traveled to and arrived in my beloved London for the first time in six years. I met two friends for the first time and had a week of fun to look forward.
As I was pondering that day in general, I remembered that it was also my birthday. I don’t make a big fuss about birthdays. Maybe that’s because my birthday is smack in the middle of summer and I never had a party in my class at school, so it never got cemented it in my brain as a big deal.
The celebrations at home were usually pretty low-key. I vaguely remember a couple of little parties. There was the one when Mike C came over and my mom made eierkuchen because that’s what I wanted (recipe, recipe). Then there was the one, um, er … I guess the eierkuchen one is the only one coming back to me at this moment. I’m sure there were other dandy get-togethers with my other friends in other years. Please don’t feel slighted because I don’t remember what happened in the 1970s.
The birthday for which I have the strongest memory for as an “adult” was my twenty-fifth. I was in college and had a part-time job at a service station. One of my part-time coworkers was in a “band.” After work, the lot of us would often go over to his house and drink beer (regular beer, not the fancy kind I like now). One such hanging-out was on my birthday and though I’m sure I didn’t make any prominent references to it, the word got out. I had gone to sit by myself on the front steps for a few minutes and one of the roommate/bandmates came out with his guitar and sang Happy Birthday to me. He didn’t really know me from Adam, but it was very sweet and to this day remains one of my favorite birthday memories. And apparently, also, one of my few concrete birthday memories.
Fast forward to last summer.
It was intentional on my part that I booked my flight so that I’d arrived on my birthday, once I learned that the discount airfare departed on Thursdays. My birthday seemed like as good a Friday as any to arrive. I knew I’d be wiped out from traveling on the one hand, but that the adrenaline from excitement would keep me going on the other. Dan and Spiros picked me up at Liverpool Street Station and we wandered around on foot from there. I only had a carry-on and my backpack, so I was pretty portable.
I think we ended up in Hodge the cat’s courtyard because Dan’s office is nearby. I was tickled because on my previous trip, I had sought out the statue and now there we were, fairly randomly, at it again. I considered that to be a good omen for a successful upcoming week. We eventually went to Dan’s, where I was staying. I had a shower and we had a snack. Then the three of us went to the Honor Oak to watch the USA World Cup match.
I fell into bed completely satisfied with the day.
Childhood food memories, part 2: family routine
May 5, 2010
When you were a kid, was there something that your family always did on a particular day of the week? The one I remember was grilled cheese sandwiches and sardines in front of the tv on Sunday nights.
I have doublechecked with my parents who are visiting this week and according to their accounts, I am actually merging two memories.
Usually we ate in the kitchen, at the table. And as I believe I have previously recounted, I often had the unpleasant experience of remaining at said table until I had eaten the last bite of food on my plate. When this involved liver, particularly chicken liver, a large part of my evening was wasted.
But on two nights of the week, I knew I would be safe. On those nights, we ate fun stuff in the living room in front of the tv while we watched my parents’ favorite shows.??
The appointment viewing that I remember was for Mary Tyler Moore and All in the Family, and Lawrence Welk and Andy Williams. But I got my meals mixed up.
Those shows must have been for pizza night on Saturdays. On parent or the other would run downtown to pick up a pie from John & Toni???s, and then we???d sit on the living room floor and dine while viewing.
The routine I remember more vividly was Sundays, when we???d have grilled cheese sandwiches and sardines. My dad says the show we watched was Ed Sullivan, of which I have no recollection. But I do remember that minding the sandwiches in the oven was one of my early cooking responsibilities. My mom would prepare the sandwiches and pop them in to brown, and I was in charge of telling her when they were toasted and ready to be flipped. I took this duty very seriously.??
When the sandwiches were served, the plate was garnished with sardines. I thought it was just something we did; my dad said it was a tradition in his family. This weekend I enjoyed the combination for the first time in thrity years and it was delicious.
Childhood food memories, part 1: bowl licking
May 5, 2010
This is a tale of two eaties???one depravation and one satisfaction. We are American. In the big scheme of things, my family and I didn???t (and don???t) want for things. My 10-year-old self would both beg to differ and look forward to next week.
In the context of this conversation, one of the best times I had as a kid was helping my friend Denise make a cake. She was a year older than I, and I???m going to guess we were about nine and ten. I come up with this estimation because at the time, Denise???s next door neighbor was Tracy and a strong memory I have about Tracy is that Melanie???s song ???Brand New Key??? was popular. Maybe we we were more like ten and eleven and by that time Denise had become my flute mentor in band.
But there are two things that I most remember about Denise. Her dog Tippy, a yappy Pomeranian, chewed up the pink car in my Game of Life that I???d take over to her house because we loved playing. Denise was the one who first told me that fuck meant ???to get married in a not nice way.??? Denise???s chemist dad brought home for me the substances needed to make my own super-bounce ball for a science project. I accidentally wiped out on Denise???s brand new banana seat bike while she was inside eating supper and I never fessed up. And when Denise made that cake in my presence, I got to lick out the bowl.
That was an incredibly big deal to me because not only was I not given autonomy in making a cake in the first place???though I often got to hold the hand mixer and lick off the beaters???but my mom was a firm believer in every drop of batter going into the pan. When Denise made the cake from beginning to end, I was aghast when she seemed to leave half of the mix in the bowl, certain that she???d get in trouble, and then overjoyed when she asked if I wanted to lick out the bowl. I was absolutely gobsmacked that she didn???t want to herself, but I guess that???s the blas?? attitude you develop when you get to do something all the time.
As an adult, I leave a satisfactory amount of batter in the bowl every time. And you know what, Mom? It turns out just fine.
I have two mottos
March 8, 2010
I don’t hold myself to very strict standards in most areas of my life, but I do seem to embrace two credos. From my parents, I get “it doesn’t hurt to ask.” From bowling, I get “it’s only fun if you make it fun.”
It doesn’t hurt to ask
This is a philosophy that was instilled in me by my parents from an early age. In my young life, I was made to practice this by having to make my own requests about things. When I was eight or nine, I had come across a science activity to make my own bouncy ball by mixing certain chemicals together. I don’t remember what the substances were, but I do remember that it was very convenient that one of my best friends’ dad was, in fact, a chemist. As much as I wanted my mom to make the phone call for me, I had to do it. He was more than willing to bring me a little of what I needed. What still stands out in my memory though, is that, having never really directly addressed the dad before, I just went ahead and called him by his first name. Nowadays it’s common for kids to call adults by their first names, but back then, there was a brief hesitation from Mrs. H on the other end of the line as well as the suggestion from my mom to call him Mr. H in the future. I also remember that the ball did not turn out very round.
More recently, just asking is how I got Lagunitas Brewing to sponsor one of my bowling teams, even though they’re in California and I’m in Minnesota. I had the opportunity to meet the owner and brewer toward the end of last summer, and the idea hit me like a lightning bolt. So when it was my turn for a few minutes of conversation with him and I had finished gushing about how I absolutely love his beer, especially the India Pale Ale, I said, “Hey, I’ve got a promotional opportunity for you!” And his answer was, “Sure, we love doing things like that.”
It doesn’t hurt to ask.
It’s only fun if you make it fun
This one has developed in the last few years as a result of bowling with better bowlers in better leagues. Everybody wants to be good, including me, and there are some really intense people in these leagues. I always try to do my best and even when I’m having a game like the one pictured above, I try not to give up or get crabby. Being upset doesn’t benefit me or my game. But a lot of people don’t see it that way. They throw their towels or smack the scoring console or swear loudly at the foul line. I don’t believe that those things make them feel any better or help them figure out how they could adjust to improve their shot. It probably only raises their blood pressure a little. If we were that good, we’d be out on the PBA tour with a sponsor. We are good, but it’s still just a game and not a matter of life and death. We should enjoy ourselves while we’re out recreating.
It’s only fun if you make it fun.
And now I will refill my glass, even though it’s still half full.
Music memories
November 8, 2009
What songs do you like? What songs, when you hear them, magically transport you to another place and time? There are a lot more, but here’s what I remember without effort.
Out and about: Paul McCartney and Wings “Uncle Albert”: My dad and me waiting in the car in the parking lot outside the Sears store in the Lima (Ohio) Mall, waiting for my mom to pick up our catalog order. Commodores “I’m Easy”: My parents and I driving in Lima and I wouldn’t let them change the radio until that song was over. Almann Brothers “Ramblin’ Man”: My parents and I were out for pizza, again in Lima. We always just drank water because paying for soda pop was too extravagant, but on this one occasion they gave me the nickel or dime to play this song on the jukebox because it was my favorite at the time. Cher “Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves,” Carpenters “Top of the World”: The Ada (Ohio) swimming pool, where I spent most of every summer as a kid. In my dad’s den listening to the radio and poised at any moment to record my favorite songs from the external speaker of the radio to the portable cassette player. Usually, I was working on the pedigrees and crayon pictures of the horses in my imaginary stable: “Bennie and the Jets” and really, many of the Elton John songs of that time. I liked Elton John a lot. Ringo Starr “Photograph”: It was summer and the window was open. I was recording this song when my dad walked past with the lawn mower. If I put my hand flat on the top of the radio, the volume would amplify. This happened during the chime solo in the middle of the song. Segue on the cassette tape: Davie Bowie “Fame” into Bee Gees “Jive Talkin’” Queen “Bohemian Rhapsody”: I didn’t really pay attention to this song, but I began to notice that every time after it was on, there was a commercial for Galileo wine. To this day, I go back to the den during the opera section. High school: The Cars’ debut album: Having the epiphany while driving with Bob S that the vocal production reminded me very much of what Roy Thomas Baker was doing with Queen (who by then was my undisputed favorite). I was right. Journey “Daydream”: My high school had a little close-circuit in-house radio station that I worked at. Whenever I played this song, one of the other kids always gave me a hard time because the one riff made it sound like the turntable was going wonky. As a club-going young adult: Billy Squier “Everybody Wants You,” Romantics “What I Like about You”: Dancing in the Point Club (Stevens Point, Wisconsin) with Steve R who drove down from Wausau with his two friends to go out. We both loved jumping straight up at the appropriate moments in those songs. Phil Collins and Philip Bailey “Easy Lover”: Singing harmony with John M. Wham! “Careless Whisper”: Dancing with Paul G. Thomas Dolby “She Blinded Me (with Science)”: SCIENCE!-ing at the right times with John G the DJ. Really, very many early- to mid-80s hits take me right back to the Point Club. College: Def Leppard “Photograph”: In the dorm, the girl across the hall and I would open our doors and synchronize our turntables to the Pyromania album. INXS “The One Thing”: Same dorm without the synchronization. Faith No More “Epic”: The campus bowling alley at the University of Wisconsin and the crew I bowled with.
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