One last longhorn...

Technology is a take-no-prisoners juggernaut, leaving the destruction of Americana in its wake.

I love my HDTV, I am writing this on a new laptop while sipping coffee from an automatic grind, drip coffee maker. Technology and modern convenience are necessary evils in this forward-thinking, evolving world. I get it.

But sometimes I mourn the loss of the Cowboy. Not the kind that melted down in the run-up to the NFL playoffs. The real Cowboy.

The guy that didn't need a GPS to know where to poke the cows. He knew instinctively where to go and what perils lie ahead. We don't have instincts like that anymore.

The real cowboy knew the forecast by gut and by watching the horizon... not The Weather Channel, which was still 180 years in the future. Honestly, his forecast might have been more accurate.

Everything he needed was in his saddlebag. Rope, soap, beans and bacon, jerky, a kettle, flint rock, ammunition, coffee, cigarettes, salt, a good sharp knife, maybe a Bible, and certainly a flask of whiskey. The essentials. No shampoo, no Blackberry, no 16 year old scotch, no pager.

He spent his time alone with his cattle. There was always enough time (and quiet) to think. His true love was likely the memory of a woman. His commitment was to his herd and the horizon.

His idea of luxury was a hot bath in the next town, which might be two weeks away. His best friends were ranch folks and the occasional friendly Indian. His idea of mass transportation was a stagecoach, and his only communication was a telegraph wire. No cell phone, no text messages.

Just a man, his horse and the great outdoors.

There are cowboys today, but they're not the same. Real Cowboys are as extinct as purple sage and unowned land. They died when barbed wire and highways appeared.

Ironically, to those who enjoy today's advanced technology, it's popular to call those simpler times. I would argue they were infinitely more complex and difficult.

Back in the day, it was common to find an occasional feral horse, saddle still on. That usually meant that somewhere, a cowboy had thrown his last rope and gone to meet his maker.

What I wouldn't give to have him back.

That's my job

One of my fatherly duties is weekend breakfast. We usually eat a hot breakfast of some kind; pancakes, eggs/bacon/potatoes/toast, omelettes, waffles... weekend mornings are always fun.

Now that Grayson is here, I'm honing my Mickey Mouse pancake skills. (With all due respect to Disney's copyright.) I used to make them for Courtney all the time, but it's been a while. Here's this morning's effort, with blueberry pancake batter:


Em and I had to split his, since he's still on the bottle. I hope he learns who Mickey Mouse is, since it would be a real bitch trying to make a Bob the Builder cake.

My folks (mostly Mom and Grandpa) made me Mickey cakes as a little boy. It's one of my great childhood memories.

"Cangies daddy?"

A famous Courtney quote. She couldn't say candy, she pronounced it "CAIN-gees." Anyway, as I perused the cangies aisle of Walgreens the other day, I started reminiscing about when I was a real afficionado. A list of my favorites and/or notables follows.

Wax lips:

We all did them as kids. They were great as a candy AND as a toy. We would nibble away at the edges until they became thin, sickly looking lips. Then we'd begin at the ends and make them thin, sickly and pursed lips. This candy put an end to the parental edict 'don't play with your food.'

Soda bottles:

Similar to wax lips, except with a special sweet center. I tired of the bland wax pretty quickly, but I'd make the liquid last. My approach - bite off the top, drink a little and bite the top closed again. Repeat until the good stuff was gone. Feed the remainder of the wax to the dog. Watch him for hours.

Circus peanuts:

I mention them not because I love them, but because I loathe them. Horrible texture experience and sickening flavor. Just nasty. 'Nuff said.

Payday:

Reigning favorite candy bar. Salty on the outside, sweet on the inside, crunchy in between. It's a veritable cornucopia of flavors and textures. I justify consumption by telling myself peanuts are full of the good cholesterol.

Gummy Worms:

Guilty pleasure. I usually consume them on a long road trip when I'm alone. I look away as the clerk rings up my purchase, then I make believe I'm five years old and can already drive. I mean why would an adult eat worms, for chrissake?

Bit-O-Honey:

Jaw-locking, diabetes-inducing slabs of sugary goodness. One candy bar lasts you most of a day and that's without an insulin injection. It battles Payday for my favorite candy bar, but its limited availability keeps it a close second. And also I have fillings I want to keep.

Hot Tamales:

What can I say? You can't see a movie without Hot Tamales, popcorn and lemonade. They are the perfect test for sweet-tooth. If you eat several at a time you can even develop these little cinammon blisters on the roof of your mouth. (Hey did anyone notice Lindsey Lohan is holding Hot Tamales?)

Marshmallow chicks:

Another one I included just to say "blech." I eat one every Easter, just to say I did. Kind of a rite of passage or something. They are too sweet and cause me to feel like I'm drowning. Another great sweet-tooth locator. Never a pleasant experience. And yet I persist...

Boston Beans:

Mmmmmm. Sort of a weird texture/flavor combo. I can eat three to five pounds before puking them back up. I never understood why Boston gets credit for the candy. The actual bean, I understand.

Any favorite cangies to share?

Ox cart, meet space shuttle

Personal transportation has become an experience.

When we were on the road yesterday, I noticed that nobody had their car windows open. Back in the day, it was unusual to see a window closed. When you did, you'd know the lucky son-of-a-bitch had air conditioning.

My first car, which belonged to my grandparents for years prior to being sold to my Aunt Sharon, then being kindly donated to me, was a 1965 Dodge Coronet.

Let me describe the "experience" of driving it: Get in, bypass the seatbelt (they were long buried in the crack and would have required an archaeologist to remove) and adjust the seat. (the entire bench moves) Start the car and let the engine warm up a little so it won't stall.

Turn the AM radio on. Listen to the crackle and broken signal for a few seconds. Slap the dashboard to try to make the radio work. Give up and turn it off, since it hasn't worked properly for years. Put the car in drive and go. Use a map to get where you're going, or stop at a gas station for directions.

That's it. No air conditioning, no radio, nothing. It was simply a means of getting from point A to point B.

Fast foward to today's experience: get the baby's diaper bag, bouncer and other equipment ready to go. From inside the house, click the auto-start button on the van and get the cabin temperature to 68 before stepping out into the heat.

Push a button to open the doors, load the stuff in. Get in, set the GPS to our destination address and watch as it reroutes us based on real-time traffic conditions. (a new Sirius feature)

Back out of the driveway with the help of the reverse camera and object sensing radar. Either hit 'play' on the iPod, choose a playlist from the 30 gig hard drive built into the vehicle, turn on Sirius radio, play a DVD or watch Sirius TV on one of the three video monitors. (yes, they now have satellite television in vehicles)

Or you could go retro and choose AM or FM radio.

Make a phone call to your friends through the built-in microphone and speaker system (via bluetooth through the cell phone in your pocket), and let them know you're on the way.

Whoops, there was no time to use the breast pump before leaving, so plug it into the 115-volt outlet on the wall of the van and pump as you go. I'll try to avoid driving alongside an 18-wheeler at this time, since they can see right into the vehicle.

That was us yesterday. Next year, Chrysler will have broadband internet service built into their vehicles, with WiFi. Each equipped vehicle will be its own "hot spot."

Personal transportation has definitely changed.... it's the freakin' Jetsons. Sometimes I just want to turn everything off, roll down the windows and drive. "Jane! Stop this crazy thing!!!"

Ancient relic unearthed!

How long since you've seen one of these?


I spied one this morning on the way for coffee and to take Regis to the groomer. I hadn't seen one in quite a while.

I remember the first "cellular" phone I had. I lived at the Lake of the Ozarks and the station paid to have one installed in my car. When the phone rang, the horn would honk. It was also push to talk, like a walkie talkie.

This may, or may not, be an actual picture.

Baby Grand

After clearing out our dining room, we now have space for something I've wanted all my life, a baby grand piano.

Not that we'll be getting one right away, but in my past three houses I've had space for one and decided not to make the leap. I'm starting to feel more leapish lately.

Granted it's a huge piece of furniture but I have no hobbies to speak of, and playing the piano has always been important to me. One of my favorite movies, "10" (with Dudley Moore), scores high on my list partly because of one scene - where he plays the piano.* Check it out:



Moore got that scene in one take. He was just a great pianist.

I've always had a love for music, and I have very few passions in my life these days with exceptions for Em and Sparky. I feel like I need to find that one thing I enjoy and will be remembered for. For whatever reason, I feel like the piano could be it.



*The movie is also important to me because it came out when I was a kid. I remember talking about it with friends, eager for it to come to the theater. We all had our crushes on Bo Derek. It's strange - I never thought I would be able to relate to Moore's character. Having watched it again recently, I realize that has changed... I know exactly where he's coming from.

Click Pop Tick Sssssshhhhhht

Quote from an article I just read:

"With Apple, Amazon.com, NetFlix and Microsoft pushing downloadable movies and cable and phone companies peddling a plethora of on-demand, high-definition content, the day is coming when the stacks of plain vanilla DVDs that clutter many home entertainment centers will go the way of the CD collection."

Look at the last few words, and tell me how old you feel.

Prior to the Day I Bought My First CD Player, my Saturday mornings had always consisted of grabbing my Rolling Stone magazine, a coffee and my Walkman with a mix tape and scouring the 45 section at Streetside Records for new singles. I would spend hours there, talking to the "experts" who worked in the store and going over the charts and reviews in RS. It was quite an experience, and one of my favorite memories of youth. (by youth I mean anywhere from age 16 to 25)

The advent of the CD somehow changed the experience. I don't know exactly how, but it took away the innocence or something. I'm not sure what that means, but I think it probably has more to do with MY moment in time.

I bought my first CD player in September 1986, at a price of around $500. I bought it in a record store, which had committed only a tiny corner to this new technology. There were only maybe a thousand titles available at the time.

These new "discs" were shiny and you could see a rainbow in them. Oooooh! At that time I may or may not have been consuming recreational pharmaceuticals, so the entire experience may have freaked me out. I might have said something like "Whoa! You can see into the future in these!" Or, more likely, "Whoa! Where do you drop the needle?"

For the younger reader, 'dropping the needle' isn't a drug reference, it's a turntable reference.

Having just paid $500 for the CD player, I could only afford two CDs that day. Slippery When Wet by Bon Jovi and Yesterday Once More by The Carpenters. Ah, diversity! The clerk gave me this really odd look. Screw you, clerk!

I remember racing home, hooking up the player and popping in Bon Jovi. The clarity was simply amazing. I sat and listened to those CDs for the rest of the day and invited several friends to come check it out.

I clung to the old vinyl technology as long as I could, until singles were being released on those little baby discs and 45s disappeared. I remember the time I changed apartments and decided I didn't have space in the new place for my turntable. I may or may not have cried that day, but I'm a little teary writing this.

Fast forward>> (kids, that's a cassette reference, which is a whole different ancient technology) to 23 years later, when CDs are yesterday's news and even DVDs are becoming obscolete. I can understand why old people finally surrender and stop trying to keep up.

I've managed to change with the times. I have a pretty large mp3 collection (about 3,000 titles) and a kick-ass iPod. I listen to podcasts and watch TV shows on it.

Still, recently I purchased a nice turntable so I can pull out the vinyl now and then. It's really quite a treat to hear the pops and clicks. The music feels warmer and it takes me to a place where I'm wearing a Walkman, drinking coffee and reading my Rolling Stone.

Anybody got any recreational pharmaceuticals?

Thankful

As Thanksgiving 2007 comes to a close, the dog and cat are at my feet, my lovely Emily is in the next room reading, Christmas carols are playing, and I am sitting in my kitchen with a cup of tea and a wandering mind.

I just had a particularly nice chat with my daughter. We told each other the stories of the day and talked about when we'd see each other next. I held Em's tummy and bonded with my little Sparky for a while, and I wrote a note to my Mom. I told her how horribly I missed her today.

Last night Em and I spent time with our friends, Mike and Paula. She made a fabulous dish and we had great conversation. I plucked around on one of Mike's guitars for a while (I can't play at all) and we played a few rounds of "Scene It." They gave us a teething toy for the baby. Friends like that are hard to find.

Today we went to Em's Grandmother's house. We had the usual Thanksgiving fare, played a few games, and lit a candelabra floral arrangement on fire. It was a very memorable day.

I spent a lot of time today in thoughtful reflection. I thought of the many people who have been in and out of my life over the years. Bosses, friends, co-workers, loves... I hope they are all well and happy.

I thought for a while about those who have passed on. I miss my Grandparents and their influence so much. I had a little pumpkin pie in honor of my Grandfather, who was quite the dessert lover. I thought of my friend Adrianne and her son Truman. My Grandma Varty, Aunt Mildred and Uncle Ed all crossed my mind today, as well... all people without whom life isn't the same.

I thought of my friends, and pondered what they were doing today. Gary probably spent the day at his Mother's house. His Father died recently, so I'm sure his day was bittersweet. I thought about him a lot today. I am guessing Ron spent the day with his Mother, wife and their son Preston, who was born almost a year ago. As for the rest of my friends, they were probably flung far and wide, on various ends of town and the Earth. They all snuck in and out of my thoughts today.

Thanksgiving may be my favorite holiday. I spend 364 days a year taking everything for granted. Then along comes this one, wonderful day that reminds me of all the things for which I am so incredibly grateful.

Heyday

Technology is a reckless, take-no-prisoners force, relentlessly moving forward in fits and starts. Unstoppable. Sort of like Rosie O'Donnell at Old Country Buffet.

As I was eating cereal and listening to Dwight Yoakam's version of Wichita Lineman this morning, it occurred to me that as technology progresses, there will eventually be no more linemen. Granted, it will take a while, but within my lifetime, cellular and wireless will replace the need for phone lines. Underground power lines will carry electricity to houses, and, with rare exceptions, they are nearly maintenance-free.

The linemen are a disappearing breed.

Few images are as stirring as a view down a long, straight highway, with lines and poles running alongside, heat causing the mirage of puddles of water... until the curve of the earth takes it all over the horizon. Those lines have carried generations of telephone conversations, power for bedside lamps, and television signals.

I feel a little misty. While some consider them eyesores, there is something nostalgic about them. And the lineman is sort of a heroic figure, sometimes.

From vinyl records, to drive-in theaters and VCRs, technology is leaving quite a path of destruction. Movie rental stores are succumbing to pay-per-view, malls are giving way to online shopping. Most board games come on DVD now.

Not that I'm anti-technology, I am quite the eager consumer. My home is a monument to the electronics industry. My cars have all the latest gadgets. Heck, I used to have a car with a refrigerator in the back seat.

But I miss the old stuff sometimes. I wouldn't want to have to drive on hilly, narrow, curvy Route 66. But I sure wish I still could if I wanted. And all along it, there were telephone lines, and linemen keeping them in working order.

Where will all the birds sit?

I'll bet you can think of other cultural icons that will soon be going away.

The War

As I wind up the weekend, I am sitting down to watch another installment of The War on PBS. After watching the first 2-hour segment, I just sat in the dark for a while, thinking.

This is an amazing documentary which focuses on the people, the heroes, of WWII... those Tom Brokaw called the "greatest generation." I am positive I wouldn't be here today without the sacrifices made by these people.

There aren't enough Veterans or Memorial Days.

Tonight I'm watching segment two. The whole experience is very moving.

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My daughter made a rare appearance at the house this weekend. She came to town Friday night and left this evening. It was a nice visit. She definitely has some issues in her life, and continues to struggle to get a handle on them. I'm doing all I can, but at this point, she will have to decide when she is ready to make some changes.

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We went to the Botanical Gardens today, and although I had to leave early, it was a great day to get outside. I had to sweat out some of the wine consumed at the Oktoberfest celebration in Hermann, MO, yesterday.

One of the many blessings of fatherhood is having a nine-month designated driver.

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My friend Mike and I are talking about playing hookie Thursday and doing something outside. The hot weather is supposed to break Tuesday, and it will finally feel like autumn. I think August lasted three months.

One 35-year-old guy died and hundreds of people had to be treated for heat-related illnesses today in Chicago during a marathon. Heat-related illnesses in October??? Where are we, Death Valley?

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Kramer the cat is staring at me, wondering when I'm going to hit the 'play' button on the Tivo. He is really into The War, too. Talk to you guys this week. I will start blogging more often. I mean it this time.

Scotch and bacon*

Sometimes a song just hits the spot. I had dinner with great friends tonight, then came home and poured a scotch and turned on iTunes.

This particular song has been recorded by everyone from Sinatra to Bryan Ferry. The version I'm listening to now is from Frankie Laine's "Torchin'" CD. As a still-fairly-young guy, I find myself wishing there were more songs being written today that hold as much meaning.

A tinkling piano in the next apartment
Those stumblin' words that told you what my heart meant
A fairground's painted swings
These foolish things remind me of you

You came, you saw, you conquered me
When you did that to me
I knew somehow this had to be

The winds of March that make my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings but who's to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things remind me of you

How strange, how sweet, to find you still
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you so near to me

The sigh of midnight trains in empty stations
Silk stockings thrown aside, dance invitations
Oh how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you.

*Emily can always tell if I've had a drink or two because I have a habit of microwaving two strips of bacon as a bedtime snack. Don't judge.