The 15-Year Pause

Here’s one from the “it’s-never-too-late-to-learn-something-new” department.

This past weekend, I stopped into a store for a few minutes and ran into a guy that went to the same grammar school I did. I graduated from grammar school in 1990, and aside from a few guys that went to high school with me, I’d say that that last time I saw 99% of my grammar school classmates was on graduation day. That was 15 years ago.

Oh, sure, I’ve bumped into the occasional person over the years (in college, through current friends, at stores or supermarkets, etc.). But usually, anyone I run into from back then is someone that I haven’t seen in 15 years.

So, I’m in the store, in the soap and shampoo aisle, when I hear my name. (I’m trying to imagine what it would be like to run into an old friend while shopping for condoms or tampax pads…we won’t go there.) I turn around and there he is, Kevin, a buddy of mine from the Frost School.

“Kevin?”
“Yeah, it’s me, man. How the hell have you been?”

So, we proceed to catch up and shoot the sh*t for a while. It’s not easy to catch someone up on 15 years of your life. We mostly kept to the basics; where we were living, where we worked, where we went to college, were we married (he’s engaged), any children, etc.

As we’re talking, he says to me “I ran into Derek a few months ago.” “Derek?”, I ask. It takes a few minutes, but I finally remember ‘Derek’, another classmate from back then. Kevin starts catching me up on Derek and we start bringing up a whole host of names.

“How’s Alison?”
“What about Wendy?”
“Or Chris?”
“And Carolyn?”

And on and on it goes. It’s amazing what you realize you remember when you’re suddenly talking to someone from that “era.” I feel like Marty McFly, and I just hopped into my Delorean. You start remembering every little detail of life in grammar school. All those memories come to the surface, as if you opened 15-year old file cabinet full of information.

So, we’re going on, and Kevin says to me “I take it you went to Central Catholic for high school then, huh?” “Sure did”, I say. “I remember you saying that you didn’t want to go there…”

And that’s when it hits me. 15 years ago, about a month before graduation, I distinctly remember asking Kevin how come he didn’t want to go to Central for high school, and he just kind of shook his head, and said “Well, there’s really just one thing…”

And then a teacher called for Kevin (we were outside at recess) and he took off. And wouldn’t you know it? I never got the answer to that question.

Now, here I am, years later, with Kevin, and I remember this tiny, insignificant detail. What an opportunity! To get the answer to a question that was asked so long ago!

I’m expecting something HUGE:

“Well, I got called back to my home planet.”
“I had signed up to live in a Biodome for the next four years.”
“I had begun training for my new life…as Batman.”

So, he finally tells me: “Aah, Central was all guys back then, and I didn’t want to go to an all-guys school.”

“Oh.” Never in my life was I so satisfied to get an answer to a question…and so disappointed. That’s it? Fifteen years and that’s it? Pfft.

Anyway, Kevin shakes my hand and says “Well, I gotta run. It’s been real. Nice seeing you again. Oh, and by the way, make sure look into the sky on October 15, 2020, because what you will see will blow your mind. It’s…”

His beeper went off. “Oh, gotta run!” And he was gone.

NOTE: That’s not what really happened, but it makes a better ending to the story, don’t you think?

Comic Strips

Ok, who reads the comic strips in the newspapers? I think it's kind of a dying art form, but I still like them. The best ones make you laugh, occasionally think, sometimes cry, and make you love their characters. Not easy to do in the 2-dimensional world of comic strips.

I think I could write a pretty good strip, except for the fact that I can't draw. (Then again, for some of these strips, frankly, drawing ability doesn't seem to be necessary!) My two favorite strips are not written anymore...D'oh! Oh, well.

THE GOOD

The Far Side - Best written comic ever. Not bad, considering it was a single-panel comic. Try coming up with a good, solid punchline in ONE panel. It ain't easy! And cows are always funny. (No longer written...boo hoo!)

Calvin & Hobbes - Good characters, damn good writing. Nothing like a strip about a bratty six-year old and his tiger friend to make you smile. These strips used to make me laugh out loud. (No longer written...boo hoo!)

B.C. - I'm not sure if the guy who writes this one is Catholic or Christian or whatever, but he likes to write the occasional strip with a religious slant, and I have to say, he comes up with some cool little parables/messages. They're preachy, but not nearly as much as other strips. Plus, there are an endless list of funny possibilities in caveman days.

Shoe - Wierd title, wierd characters, but funny stuff.

Garfield - Always liked it when I was a kid, and I have to admit, it's still a good one. Good one-liners.


THE SO-SO

For Better or For Worse - Interesting strip in that the characters actually AGE! Pretty rare for a comic strip. Some good insights, some good humor.

Dilbert - Ocasionally can be hilarious, but the whole "Office Work sucks!" theme gets repetitive.

Crankshaft - My brother likes this one. Cranky bus driver who complains about the world. Too repetitive for me.

The Family Circus - Here's one the whole family can enjoy. Tends to be overly sappy. But you gotta like the "trail" ones, where one character follows a ridiculously long trail to get somewhere.

Peanuts - What's that, you say? Peanuts is "so-so"? To me, yeah. Was a good strip going back a few years, but in more modern times, just wasn't funny anymore. (Not written anymore since it's creator died.)

ADMISSION: But I do like the stage show "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"!


THE ONES I JUST DO NOT LIKE

The Born Loser - I've never seen a strip be so consistently not funny. Can see the jokes coming a mile away.

Brenda Starr - Does anyone read these "serial strips"? Anyone? Anyone at all?

Cathy - Mostly for all the men-haters out there. I've never found it all that funny.

Doonesbury - Too political. The knocks against Georoge Bush can be insightful, but not usually funny.

HONORABLE MENTION

Andy Capp - As Homer Simpson would say, "Oh, Andy Capp, you wife-beating drunk."

Ziggy - Again, as Homer Simpson would say, "Ziggy's gotten too preachy!"

Hatherly Memories, Pt. 1

DISCLAIMER: The following is a semi-fictionalized account of a hodgepodge of memories at 45 Hatherly Road, Brighton, Massachusetts. May my next apartment be the cause of just as much debauchery.

We join the story as Glenn is cruising around Brighton, helplessly lost.

Glenn: Where is this freakin’ street?! What the hell is it called…(glances at directions)…Hatherly Road…what kind of dumb name is that? (glances down again, as a car horn honks loudly) What?! You watch where YOU’RE going, buddy! Ooh, is that it? (turns sharply) Aaaugh! One-way street! Dammit! (throws it in reverse)

Several wrong turns later.

Glenn: Finally! Let me just find a place to park.

17 minutes later.

Glenn: I hate this stupid city. Ah, finally! (parks)
Guy: Hey! You can’t park there! Move your car!

11 minutes later.

Glenn: (mumbling) Half a tank of gas just to park. Unbelievable.

Glenn approaches the door, as loud music, laughter and shouting echoes down to the street. He walks upstairs, into a raving party.

Glenn: Howdy, folks.

All: Hey, Glenn!/Hi!/You made it!/Want a drink?

Richie: What’s up, Glenn? Janessa will be down in a minute, she’s upstairs.

Glenn: Yeah, I know, I heard her down on the street. Got any Kahula in there?

Richie: Sure, help yourself.

Glenn walks in to the kitchen and hears giggles coming from a door in the rear of the kitchen. He goes to investigate, and peers out the door.

Guy/Girl: HEY!!!

Glenn: Whoa! Sorry, folks! (slams door)

Heather: (entering) Hi, Glenn.

Glenn: There are two people on the balcony.

Heather: So?

Glenn: They’re making out like their plane is going down.

Heather: (beat) So?

Glenn: So…um, so nothing. No big deal. This is quite a place.

Heather: Yeah. Check out that door, it’s Janessa’s bedroom. Not sure who's in there.

Glenn: In here? (opens door)

Dave: HEY!!!

Glenn: Ah, wrong door! (slams it shut) Dave Lemay sitting on the can. There’s an image that could put me in therapy for the rest of my life.

Heather: That’s the bathroom, genius.

Glenn: Ya think? (opens bedroom door; trying to see through a haze of smoke) Hello? Anyone home? …(cough)…Janessa, is that you? (cough) What the…(cough)…You’ve got a…(cough)…nice place here…(cough)…I, uh…(cough, cough)…what the hell is going in here? (cough)

Jess C: Smoking a few joints. (smiling) Aaaaaaah, that’s the stuff.

Glenn: Hi, Jess. Smoking weed, huh? (cough) I thought it smelled like high school in here. (cough) Well, um, enjoy. If the walls start bleeding, take five, ok? (exits) I’m just going to stop opening doors.

Josie: (dancing by) Hi, Glenn!

Glenn: Hi, Josie. Nice moves.

Janessa: (entering) HI GLENN!

Glenn: Oh, hi, Janessa. How are things?

Janessa: GREAT!

Glenn: Good.

Janessa: HAVE YOU SEEN MY DRINK?

Glenn: Nope. But I’ll help you look. Care to join me on the balcony? (Heather elbows Glenn in the ribs) What? Worth a shot. (Janessa moves to look for her drink as Glenn walks over to the dining room table)

Dave C: Bullshit! A three doesn’t beat a four!

Kevin B: It does in black, you jackass!

Dave C: That’s crap!

Kevin B: You want a piece of me? (they lunge across the table, trying to destroy each other)

Brendan: Ok, let’s just settle down, everyone! Oh, hi, Glenn

Glenn: You guys take 45s pretty seriously around here, don’t you?

Brendan: You know it.

Dave C: Asshole!

Kevin B: Prick!

Brendan: Guys, guys, come on. Don’t make me get the hose.

TO BE CONTINUED…

SEEKING GUEST BLOGGER

Hi, folks.

In the tradition of the late Johnny Carson, I’d like to offer up a free blog entry to whoever feels like taking it.

Why? Well, I’m lazy for one. Plus, it just seemed like a good idea.

Come on, you know you want it. Write about anything you want (other than how much I suck).

Don’t you want your stuff to be viewed by millions? (In this case, “millions” is more like dozens, if you’re lucky, but let’s not nit-pick.)

Drop me a line. Who knows, maybe you could become a “permamnent guest blogger”, like Jay Leno did for Carson. And look how good things turned out for him.

Speak out! Let your voice be heard! Give Glenn a break!

Seriously, though, who wants to play?

"I Do"

This past Saturday, my brother got married and I gotta say, if my wedding is half as nice as his, I’d be just fine with that. The only thing that would have made the day perfect was if the sun was shining (darn rain!), but hey, you know what? You can’t have everything and since everything else was great, I think they’ll find someway to live with it.

Here’s a wedding day timeline:

4:45 PM – Just before I leave my house, my dad almost impales me through the heart, trying to attach the flower to my tuxedo.

5:00 PM – I arrive at St. Mary’s Church, meet up with Phil and Josie and get some unsettling news. Apparently, the keyboard that Phil was under the impression would be waiting for him, was NOT. (D’oh!) I start having images in my head of Josie singing a capella for the whole mass, until the organist says that he can play for Josie’s first few songs while Phil goes and gets his keyboard. (WHEW!) Thank God for small favors. Thank you, Josie and Phil, for making things work!

5:20 – Having gotten marching orders from the wedding coordinator to “make sure everyone sits down” so that things can start on time, I have to round up all my relatives congregating at the back of the church. “So, is everyone ready to SIT DOWN?? Let’s go, folks, this isn’t a waiting room!”

5:30 – I march my mother down the aisle, with her crying the whole time. Awwww.

5:32 – Myself and the other groomsman have to roll the white cloth down the center aisle for the bride. It takes five tries just to figure out how the thing is supposed to unroll. And rolling it down is a comedy of errors in itself. ‘Nuff said.

5:50 – Having been told by the wedding coordinator that the reading would be waiting for me at the pulpit (I’m scheduled to do the First reading), I walk to the pulpit…no readings! Thank God I have the reading folded up in my pocket. But, oh, no! Does the guy doing the second reading have HIS reading in his pocket…?

5: 54 – Yeah, he does. (WHEW, again)

6:14 – My brother is officially married. My mother cries again, because now there is a new “Mrs. Wakeley” in the world.

6:45 – Mass over. Traditionally, at the end of a wedding, after the bride and groom exit, all the ushers and bridesmaids pair up and follow. However, since there are three bridesmaids and only two ushers, I have to go down the aisle with two bridesmaids, one on each arm. I hear from three different people as we go down the aisle “How come he gets two women?” (Deal with it, boys.)

7:20 – Photographer keeps confusing me with the best man (Chris), who is 6’6” tall. How you mix the two of us up is beyond me.

8:00 – 9:00 – Bride and groom have first dance, food is served, Best man toast, people mingle, etc. My sister-in-law’s cousin recognizes me as the “guy in the casket” from our spring show. Fun being a celebrity, isn’t it?

9:15 PM – Dancing begins. Who ordered all the music from the 70s? Oh, right…hi, dad.

9:16 – 10:30 - I witness my dad and some of my aunts do more dancing in 90 minutes that I’ve seen in my whole life. And who knew dad could move like that? And two of my cousins surprise me with their moves, too. All I can think is “Boy, am I white.”

10:30 – 11:30 – Things start to wind down, bride and groom do last dance together.

11:40 – Helping my brother’s new father-in-law carry gifts to the car, I see a car completely covered in toilet paper and shaving cream. (Gross! Why do we do this at weddings?) I’m relieved to hear “That’s for another wedding.”

12:20 AM – Estimated time I get home. One last time…WHEW.

Congratulations, Mike and Debra.

Debra, welcome to the family. Now that you’ve met everyone, I think I can safely say, from here on out, it’s all downhill. :)

The Games we Play(ed)

This past Friday was “Take Your Children to Work Day.” The kids did a scavenger hunt, had a picnic, and one of my co-workers brought in his guitar. And at the end, they all played dodge ball and kickball and…wait for it…“Steal the Bacon.” HA! Anyone remember that game? I was worried that game went out in the 80s. Apparently, it lives on. In honor of the day, my co-workers and I discussed our favorite childhood games.

The “Tags”

a) Regular tag
Rules: Self-explanatory (boooooooooring!)
b) T.V. tag
Rules: About to get tagged? Drop to your knees and shout out a TV show.
c) Movie tag
Rules: Bastard cousin of TV tag, only with movies.
d) Frozen tag
Rules: Get tagged, and you’re “frozen”; someone needs to tag you to “unfreeze” you. A variation on this was that to “unfreeze” you, someone had to crawl between your legs. (Spare me your dirty jokes. Let us have our innocence, sheesh.)

“Egg”

Weird name, strangest game ever invented. But lots of fun anyway.

Rules: You need a playground ball (not a basketball, which we used once and almost killed my friend). One person takes the ball and picks a category, like “colors.” Everyone else huddles up and selects a color, and then one person rattles the list off to the person with the ball (so the person with the ball knows all the colors, but has no idea who chose each one.) He heaves the ball in the air and shouts out a color (“Blue!”). Everyone else runs like hell, trying to get as far away from the ball as possible, but if you were the one who had picked “blue”, you need to get under the ball and catch it. Once you catch it, you yell “Freeze!” and everyone freezes. Take three giant steps towards any person you want, and heave the ball at them. Hit them, and they’ve now got an “E”. (But if they catch it, you get the “E”.) Now the whole process repeats itself, and the first one to spell “EGG” is eliminated. Pure genius, right?

As we got older, the categories got more and more interesting, like “Disgusting foods” and “Girls in our class with the nicest chest”.

“Relevio”

I know, sounds like a menu item in an Italian restaurant.

Rules: Pick a “jail” and your boundaries (i.e. no leaving the front lawn or backyard, etc.) When we played at my house, “jail” was always the front steps. Pick two people to be “it”. They run around trying to tag everyone else. Get tagged, and you’re in jail. At any time, a not-yet-tagged person can tag the jail and shout “Relivio!”, and everyone in the jail is free.

Warning: When a group is freed, this is not an invitation to all barrel over the people who are it. Tramplings my be funny, but they just weren’t cool.

“To-the-Pole”

The most violent, sadistic game ever invented. I only played this one down at Boy Scouts, and you needed easy access to a First Aid Kit.

Rules: Put a flag pole in the stand and place it in the middle of the room. Everyone circles around the pole and grabs each other’s wrists. One person shouts “Right!”, and everyone has to start circling the pole by walking to the right. If the person shouts “Left!”, you switch directions. When he yells “To the pole!”, you pull as hard as you can on the wrists of the people you’re connected to. You must avoid the pole at all costs. First one to touch the pole is eliminated.

Imagine this game being played with kids who weighed 90 pounds, soaking wet, and kids who tipped the scales at 200+ pounds. Kids would get flung across the room like rag dolls, and on more than one occasion did a kid get hurled into a wall or a set of folding chairs. But you gotta wonder: What’s more disturbing, that it was played, or that the adult leaders LET US play?

“Sardines”

Arguably the best childhood game. Sometimes called “Reverse Hide and Seek.

Rules: More people you play with, the more fun. If you’ve got 10 people playing, 9 people close their eyes and count to 100, while the one remaining person goes off and hides. When everyone else gets to 100, they all go off and look for the hiding person. The first one to find him…has to hide WITH him! And the next one to find these two guys…hides with them as well! Object is to have 9 guys hidden in one spot, while one poor sap gets stuck finding the whole group.

This one made you think. It wasn’t enough to find a hiding spot, you had to find one that could accommodate 9 other people! Nothing quite like searching for the guy hiding, and finding five guys trying to stuff behind a bush or under a car. (“Get your ass out of my face!” “Stop kicking me!” “Ow, S***!”) Best strategy? Go up a tree. We once had my poor friend searching for 20 minutes because we all went up the tree in my front yard. Poor kid. He never thought to look up.

Honorable mention:

Steal the Bacon
Red Rover, Red Rover
Team handball (kind of the grandaddy of “Ultimate Frisbee”)

Yes, sir, gotta love those games. Played ‘em all the time. Until we discovered “Strip Poker” in 6th grade (and now invited the girls to play). Too bad my mother caught us one day, but that’s a whole other story.