October 2004 Archives

As a smalltown newspaper editor, the two things that seem to give me the most consistent grief are the letters to the editor and the police report. Probably the latter is what causes the most problems. We publish the names, ages and cities of residence for those arrested on suspicion of such crimes as auto theft (rare), drug possession (not too rare) and driving while intoxicated (quite common).

I normally get calls from someone who was arrested for a possible DWI and doesn't want to embarrass him or herself. That was the case yesterday. He begged for me to leave the item out, or to not publish his address. But I told him the story of some friends of mine whose son was arrested for shoplifting. I didn't really want to, but that arrest was listed among the others. I can't pick and choose because that is unfair. Those arrested are accountable for their actions; while some may not be guilty, it's a matter of public record.

Many people disagree with this policy. It's not one I created, but I do support it. There is one particular reason why I have little sympathy for those who drive after drinking too much ...

It was a night of cursing Bambinos, a Sox sweep, a shaved dog and a total lunar eclipse fleetingly viewed through parting clouds.

My evening walk with the dog (now shaved) fell into the scheduled time of the eclipse, so we got a nice view of it – except I couldn't get her to look at the moon. I was pleased that several fellow surbananites had left the comforts of their La-Z-Boy® sanctums and bowls of microwave popcorn to view the astronomical spectacle. There was even a Space Nerd with his telescope set up in the street.

I read an interesting article in yesterday's paper that put into words similar thoughts I've had about technology sometimes getting in the way of living.

At this very second, there are gazillions of people videotaping, photographing, camera-phoning, e-mailing, voicemailing, blogging, typing, scribbling, talking things that may or may not mean anything now, but will really not mean anything tomorrow. This post is but one example of a sea of information in which we can so easily drown.

The article focused on the question: "Are we overdocumenting our lives?" Very well may be true. We spend so much time cataloging what's going on in our lives, when will we have time to revisit those things and still have time for new experiences? There is even, apparently, a database in the works that would archive voicemail messages virtually forever. Services like Google's g-mail claims to have so much space that you never have to delete a message; rather you can archive it. The bigger question is, "why?"

Of course, the "keep everything" attitude spills into the physical world as well. From children's art projects to the flotsam of daily life, sometimes it just comes down to throwing stuff away just to get rid of it. And sometimes it comes down to keeping something just because you haven't thought about throwing it away.

Here's some points to ponder in relation to all this:

I've got it again. That urge.

Images jump from magazines I shouldn't be looking at. Tidal waters gently lapping against sexy curves; sun shining upon exotic beaches; the contrasting shades of dark and light; and speed. Oh yes, speed. How I long to be hot and wet there, too.

One of those stupid Internet stories that appears on many e-mail, browser or search-engine sites caught my attention long enough for me to click on it. Just confirmed to me how much a waste of time such things are. Especially now that I'm going to waste time writing about it.

The story was about the 10 things a "stylish man" should keep in his wallet. You can click on the link and read the original. I guess I don't qualify as stylish, because here's what's in my wallet:

I'm hungry. Well, not really, but I know I will be in a few hours. The whole "What's for dinner?" question is really boring and hard to answer lately. So I figure it's time to solicit some easy recipes, especially considering the change of readership this blog has experienced.

Here's the deal: Got a recipe? Submit it in the comments (preferably) or e-mail me at taoverman@hotmail.com. The results will be compiled in a cookbook once I've got enough entries (whatever "enough" is). Then I'll post it here as a downloadable PDF.

To see the results of the first Dinner Project, grab hold of this text and drag it to your desktop (or right click for you PC'ers)!

If it doesn't work for some reason, I'll try to fix it later.

Quote of the day, courtesy of the Petite Filet, over lunch after witnessing a couple going after it a few tables away in the restaurant:

"I'm all for young love and all, but not while I'm trying to eat."

Indeed! "Even we took a break for meals," I reminded her.

Little did we know that a party my sister and her husband threw at their house on Saturday would yield more than just the overcooked food and toy-strewn ambiance of fiestas past. My brother-in-law's National Guard unit has been called up for overseas service – something we knew about months ago – and this was to be a hurrah for him.

By the time we pulled into one of the far-away parking lots at the State Fair of Texas on Monday, it started to rain. But only a little. Just enough to dampen us before we got to the security check, and the black clouds overhead were adequate in canceling a display of antique wooden boats I really wanted to see. Nonetheless, we had a great time and didn't eat our weight in fair fare, thankfully.

Here's a quick breakdown:

This is the first piece of fiction I posted on my old blog, originally July 10, 2003. I have some other short-story ideas but haven't had time to do them justice, or even take them to court. I had wanted to link to all my previous stories (10 in all), but couldn't get that to work this morning. These stories are a little predictable maybe, but I hope it's the journey and not the destination you enjoy. Plus, the grammatical and typographical errors were, uh, added on purpose for effect. Yeah, that's it.

Sweat trickled lazily down his brow, burning his left eye. He blinked it away. Must focus. Cannot afford to make a mistake. The cold muzzle of his gun was reassuring as he scanned the dark line of trees.

Suddenly a flicker of orange flame burst from his right flank, and he felt the sting of several bullets pierce his torso. Soon he was keenly aware of the oozing warmth of his own blood. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sounds came. He tried to will his stiff legs to move, but the synapses would not fire. He collapsed backward into the mud, gazing blankly into the pale blue sky. He closed his eyes. Giving in. Exhausted. Letting go.

A buzzing filled his ears. Enemy tanks? A rescue helicopter? A large, angry wasp?

Fiction originally published on my first blog on July 10, 2003.

“How many people do you expect to attend, Mrs. Roberts?”

“Pardon?”

“The service? How many people?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She blew her nose into a Kleenex. “Not many, I’d say. Harold hadn’t kept up with his old friends. We have only one child, and she’s not married. I’m not even sure she’ll make it to the funeral.” She paused, wadding up the spent tissue and reaching for another one. “Maybe a dozen at the most.” She figured maybe their neighbors and some church friends would show. But there was no one else.

For most of my life, I've been a free man.

Some would say I'm in prison in some ways, usually those who don't believe marriage can actually be freeing, or those who think having a semi-desk job makes be incarcerated by "the man." In many ways, owning a home is like signing away one's life and throwing away the key. But in my mind, I'm a little birdie above the talons of entrapment. Mainly because I have never regularly carried a cell phone.

The saying goes that famous people die in groups of three. Unless I missed the first one of this round of deaths, somebody's days are numbered after the passing of actress Janet Leigh and comedian Rodney Dangerfield.

For me, that morbid triple-play is complete after Lyle died. You don't know or have never heard of Lyle, because he was everything but famous. He grew up and died on the same island off the coast of Virginia, having served his community as fire chief during its most recent flood (in 1962), having helped build the first bridge to the mainland and having served as custodian in his church for more than 50 years before retiring five years ago. He was more than all that, though.

How would you describe the concept of love to someone who has no idea what it is? Maybe that doesn't matter because 99.9 percent of the humans on earth have some clue – especially if it's something they've sought and not found. Is love is an emptiness fulfilled? Do you have to be empty for love to fill you?

We could turn to the clinical dictionary definition of the word love, but I find it lacking: strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties; attraction based on sexual desire; warm attachment, enthusiasm or devotion. (Webster's). The definition prompts more questions, like how does that affection arise, what factors cause sexual desire, enthusiasm, devotion?

It’s one-word title week here at Texas T-bone!

Even when we’re standing still, we’re spinning. The earth is moving, blood is circulating, the second hand never stops. Some of us are moved by motion ... mashed accelerators pushing us beyond the legal limit, legs pumping round and round on a bicycle, gravel crunching below fast feet, cutting loose earthly bondage and soaring through the air. Others prefer to stay as still as possible. But time won’t stop, so you might as well succumb to the motion.

I’ve been a couch potato today – this being Monday, a day off from work and one that lets me be home with the Cutlet. Normally we’d venture out, find a playground to frolic on, find a grocery store to fill our bare cupboards, find something to do that doesn’t involve watching furry red monsters or talking vegetables on the TV.

I have no idea who these people are, but they've got the right idea.

At the end of yesterday's workday, I had a few projects left unfinished – including the eating of my snack. So I took my banana with me as I drove home. Pulling into traffic, I was nearly t-boned (heh) by some guy talking on his cell phone. That gave me an idea. Maybe I should conduct an experiment wherein I use my banana as a fake cell phone, having a fake conversation, to see just how distracting such behavior is on the road.

Well, I think my little stunt was more distracting to other drivers. Besides strange looks, there was some honking and shrugging going on. I decided that was enough for me. Safety first, people!

Bananas are quite versatile. Not only are they nutritous (hey, carbs can be good for you), but they are delicious. Here are some uses besides eating for that a-peeling yellow fruit: