Minnesota Meanderings

2011

2011-12-31T13:47:00.000-06:00

The night before last, as I lay in bed, I thought of my favorite experiences from 2011 as well as the changes that had occurred during that timeframe. It goes without saying that remarrying Dori in September was a big one. Three biggies transpired in the summertime. First was going to the Celebrate Your Life conference for the fourth consecutive year where, for the first time, I was called to the front of the room, not once, but twice: once to stare deeply into the eyes of my favorite author for a full minute, for the other, to let loose and dance. I also had a good time at the celebration of my Dad's 25th anniversary to his second wife. It offered me an opportunity to see and talk with people I'd not encountered in decades. And there was my return trip to Adventureland, an amusement park I last visited in 1983.

I had a great time at the movie theatre. My favorite films of these last 12 months were "Super 8", a nostalgic trip to 1979, "Hugo", an enchanting film set in 1930's Paris in which the 3-D was among the best I'd ever seen, "Insidious", one of the scariest films I've ever watched, "Contagion", a riveting drama, and "Drive", a European-style thriller. Thanks to postive reviews from Entertainment Weekly, I tried out two new shows that offered me much pleasure: "Game of Thrones" and "The Killing". "Enlightened" on HBO showed the challenges that come when trying to tackle the world in a spiritual way when so many have other things on their mind.

We upgraded our computer and monitor at long last (our former machinery was purchased in 2004) and also got a scanner. I've scanned hundreds of pictures with it and posted them to Facebook. If any of my readers would like to friend me on Facebook, where I post more regularly than here, just drop me a note at thomassdixon@yahoo.com.

In closing, here are some pics of me as a wee one:

Christmas 1972

2011-12-12T12:22:00.002-06:00

Per my mom: "Went to midnight mass at the chapel, had big turkey dinner at our home. Tommy loved the Christmas tree, especially the lights. He loved them on all the time and liked to fiddle and rearrange the presents."

Celebrating My 41st

2011-11-13T11:40:00.002-06:00

Air Supply Part II

2011-11-06T22:35:00.001-06:00

The thing I did after coming out of the bathroom that I'd not done in a number of years, but had done a great deal in college, was sitting my ass on the metal railing of a flight of stairs and sailing down it. There was a moment when I thought I might fall off to the left, but thankfully, I came down in one piece. Dori's response was, "I can't believe you did that" and Shanon's was, "Was that fun? It looked fun".

We headed back to our seats a few minutes later where the taller Russell came out on his own and began talking about his favorite things (being in a warm house, looking out over the mountains, drinking a glass of wine).

A man in the audience took this relative quiet as a time to voice responses; when Russell mentioned the glass of wine, the man suggested smoking a doobie. People around us were getting annoyed and I was hoping he'd be sent to detox. My mom turned around at one point and said, "Shut up"; neither of us can tolerate talkers at the movie theatre.

A moment later, Graham asked if anyone was interested in coming up to the space between the stage and the front row. A couple dozen women followed suit. It was there that he serenaded them with a tune accompanied only by his guitar.

Graham headed right out into the audience as he started in on one of my favorites, "The One That You Love".

Hitchcock surprised the shit out of the people sitting the furthest back by appearing amidst them. I didn't even know where he was until I turned around and looked carefully. He touched the hands of a number of attendees who were in wheelchairs and there were a lot of smiles from people who hadn't expected to be able to see the sexy Australians up so close. Hitchcock went up on stage to close the song and an energy that wasn't present in the first half abided throughout the second.

I told myself from time to time to really pay attention, to enjoy the show and smile as this might be the only chance I'd get to see them and especially so close. To top it off, I was here with my best friend, my wife, and my mother. There was a surge of noise in the crowd whenever the first few notes of a familiar song played.

Shanon really got into it in the latter stages, miming the drummer on some of the fast songs and yelling at the top of his lungs at the end of songs and sometimes right in the middle of them. A man directly in front of him had a hearing aid in one ear, but Shanon was so loud that on a number of occasions, he stuck his finger into the other ear. I noticed my mom was also getting more into it. One of my favorite moments was looking two seats over at Dori mouthing along to one of the songs, lost in love. Near the end, Graham did a little trick where he played the guitar over his head. They ended with one of their all-time best, "All Out Of Love".

As they left the stage, it was announced they would be signing autographs for those who were interested. Just then, I told my mom that they hadn't sung my favorite Supply song, "Sweet Dreams". She said they have so many, it's hard to get to all of them; something she echoed last night when we saw Vince Gill play.

Shanon wanted to get the Russells' autographs in the worst way, not least because no concert he'd been to before had offered them so readily. Though we'd be there at least an extra half hour, I let him wait and sat with Dori as my mom said she wanted to head home. When the full band came out for the meet-and-greet, I joined Shanon in line and since I saw pics being taken, asked if he wanted me to take one of him and the guys. He said he did.

As we got closer, I saw women kissing the guys and told Dori that she could get the same if she got in line with us. She was either too nervous, too shy, or afraid that she'd get aroused to go for it. I told my mom later that she would've had the same opportunity had she stuck around. Graham is her favorite of the two.

When it came to be Shanon's turn, he shook both the singers' hands and said, "It was an honor!" I took the following pic of him with the lead guitarist and Hitchcock.

A few hours later, I drifted off to sleep where to no one's surprise, I had sweet dreams.

Different Strokes

2011-10-31T14:20:00.002-05:00

I've been seeing the same massage therapist for the last four years. She's a few years younger than me and a former co-worker. Working from her home, just nine blocks from mine, and charging a mere $55 for a 90-minute massage, I was more than happy seeing her every four weeks.

The month before last, however, she didn't respond to a couple texts I'd sent regarding an upcoming appointment. Wondering what was up, but not wanting to send yet another message, I made an appointment to be seen at the biggest masseuserry in town. They were more expensive, but my wife was a big fan of theirs, having gotten caressed a number of times at their Las Vegas location (the only city in which she's ever had a massage). I asked to be set up with someone who was a specialist at what they call deep-tissue (Swedish) massage. For obvious reasons, I requested that the healer be female.

I headed to my appointment earlier this fall, not sure if it was going to be worth it, but knowing I had to give it a try. I parked my car and told the staff up front who I was and the time of my appointment. I noticed a curious thing. The other people waiting to be seen either had their noses stuck in their mobile devices or reading a magazine. No one's eyes strayed at the other clients as if, in some way, they were ashamed that they were here, about to be touched by a stranger. Imagine if someone they knew came in. It'd be like getting caught in a brothel.

As I sat, looking at the pictures on the wall, I lifted my right hand to my neck and started rubbing a bit. I was obviously ready to get it on. A big guy with a Harley-Davidson shirt came in and sat a few feet away. After a moment, he did the same thing. Had he noticed me doing it or was he also just getting in the mood? I was surprised when a male therapist came out for him. Could it be that his wife had let him go to this facility on the condition that he not see any female rubbers? Or was it his idea, not feeling a female would have the proper strength to get the numerous knots out of his neck and shoulders?

One thing I loved about the waiting area was the quiet. The staff spoke softly and, of course, there weren't any kids waiting to be seen. This was my kind of place. Just like when I go to the movies, I headed to the bathroom before things got going. In keeping with the quiet theme, there were no hand dryers to be seen, not even any paper towels. No, after one's hands were washed, you actually used a fresh white washcloth to rub the excess moisture from one's hands; there was a basket near the floor where you threw the spent cloth.

A few minutes later, I was greeted by the petite woman who would be mine for the next 50 minutes; there were more than a dozen rooms available. There were actually two different white noises going as I entered: a small fan and some piped-in music, the kind you'd expect to hear at a house of healing.

I disrobed and got under the covers and was pleasantly surprised that the masseuse knew a few things that my former one didn't. When she did my neck, she was pushing so hard that it hurt. I made sure not to let her see my discomfort as I felt being rubbed that hard would be worth it in the long-run.

One thing I've tried for years during massages is to let my mind go blank or at least not to think about ridiculous minutaie. What a waste of money to be getting pampered, but spending virtually all the time pondering on what I'm going to have for supper or why Kim Kardashian's getting divorced. I think I'm getting better at this, but it isn't easy. Thankfully, the good vibes I feel from a massage continue over the next few days, no matter how many thoughts I had during the actual appointment.

When it was time to get dressed again, I knew I'd be back in a few weeks. My former healer sent me a text a few weeks ago asking about my next appointment. I said that I'd sent her texts which were never returned, so wound up going elsewhere. She apologized and said that that may have been the time when she'd dropped her phone. I said that was OK and that I'd let her know when I needed to be seen again. In the end, I'm thankful I was led to my new masseusse in such a serendipitous way. Life can be funny that way.

Air Supply

2011-10-27T17:54:00.001-05:00

My mother was a huge fan of the Australian group, Air Supply, in the early 80's. She had a number of their cassettes, one of which I distinctly remember had a picture of a hot air balloon on it. When, a few months ago, I learned that they were coming to town, I asked if she'd be interested in coming. She said she would.

I initially wasn't planning to bring my wife (she had seen them in Vegas a few years ago), but she convinced me to let her tag along. In addition, I asked my friend, Shanon, if he'd want to go. He said he would, so all was set as I told my boss earlier this fall that I'd be in a tad late as I had a morning "appointment" (to go on Ticketmaster). I went to the site at the exact time that the tickets went on sale. Thankfully, there was no pre-sale, so I wound up getting the best seats I've ever had for a concert; 3rd row, dead center.

Before heading to the civic center last Saturday, we had a delicious meal at Friday's, a restaurant I'd not eaten at in a number of months. With some time to kill before the show, we browsed at the downtown Barnes & Noble before taking the skywalk to where the Aussies would be playing.

As an usher scanned our tickets and we entered the staging area, a number of Beatles tunes (Do You Want to Know a Secret, A Little Help From My Friends, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da) played.

Me and Shanon did some walking around on the upper level remembering concerts we'd seen there before. He munched on a malt cup as we looked at the souvenirs and cash bar. I gave seat assignments to my wife, mom, and Shanon that weren't as dead center as my own. I was glad when the people in the front row didn't start the show standing; I just assumed we were going to be standing throughout.

I couldn't believe how close we were. I put my feet on the rack of the seat in front of me and leaned down a bit as the show began. The two men named Russell were literally larger than life. It reminded me of when my twin half-sisters had super-close seats for a Sesame Street Live show in LaCrosse at the age of two and were so scared at seeing the Cookie Monster, Big Bird, etc, so gargantua that their father asked some people a few rows back if they'd change places with them.

Here are two pics I took as the show got underway:

Unlike a show which has a solo performer, I was torn over which of the singers to look at. I generally preferred the one that was doing lead vocals. When they both sang, I usually stared at the better-looking one. During one of the first few songs, I felt certain that the main singer (Russell Hitchcock) looked at me. Shanon later said that he gave an air fist bump to him and he returned the favor. Dori said he had winked at her.

Having sensitive ears, I'd brought ear plugs with me and asked Shanon before the show if he wanted some. He agreed, but a half hour later, as the show was getting ready to start, he said he'd accidentally thrown them away, so I had to give him another pair. I asked my mom and Dori if they wanted plugs, but they had no interest; my mom changed her mind two songs into the show. I kept my plugs mostly sticking out, so that I was exposed to probably 80% of the music, just needed to reduce some of the overwrought static.

My mother felt a bit confined in the folding chairs. I had no issues as there wasn't anyone sitting to the left of me. They rocked a bit harder than I was expecting, having young guys on guitars, keyboards, and drums. I had to physically stay interested in the show at all times as Hitchcock noted people in the audience who were crossing their arms and not getting into it. I didn't want to be one of those people. Thankfully, Shanon took some of the pressure off me by audibly singing along to most of the songs.

Most of the tunes took me back to 1980 and 1981. Those were some of the happiest years of my life and it was hard to believe that 30 years later, I was here with my mom seeing them for the first time. The intermission came up fast. It felt like they'd only done a half dozen songs, but I knew that some of their best were yet to come.

We stretched our legs and headed out to the concourse where Dori bought bottles of Dasani for the lot of us. My mom and me headed to the bathrooms upstairs where the lines were much shorter; the upper deck where we'd seen Vince Gill 18 years prior (my first concert) was like a mausoleum. On the way back down, I did something that I'd not done in many years, but something I did frequently in my college days.

High Times

2011-10-13T19:40:00.005-05:00

I'm a big movie fan, but don't get to the theatre as much as I did during the late 90's. There's a little less free time and I've grown to enjoy lying on the couch and watching my favorite TV shows on DVR. When I do go, then, it's important that I go to a movie that's going to impress me.

I'd waited quite a while for Brad Pitt's "The Tree of Life" to come to Rochester. It looked as if it wasn't going to make it, but a few weeks ago, it did. I happily went to a matinee of it where I sat way up on the top in the back. There were a number of mostly older people down below as the film played. The reviews were phenomenal, but did note that the film didn't have a straight narrative. An ambitious movie, it wasn't quite as good as I was hoping for, not quite as transcendent. Nonetheless, it brought up universal feelings about life, love and the cosmos and for that, I'm glad I saw it.

A week later, I went to another well-reviewed film, Ryan Gosling's "Drive". This movie was all about mood. I was hooked from the beginning as this song played over the opening credits; Gosling was driving late at night through L.A. The movie had something that most blockbusters don't: silences. Someone would say something and instead of the other speaking immediately, they would pause a bit, as if they wanted to absorb what was being said and maybe even enjoy being in that particular moment. There were a few action scenes which seemed more real because of the attachment that one came to feel for the characters. I've heard that many European movies exhibit this type of style and if this is the case, we, in the U.S., are really missing out.

Last weekend, me and Dori headed to the theatre to see the next movie on my list; I went up to the cashier and said, "We wanna catch "Contagion"'. I'd heard this was a good one, but it soared well past my expectations.

If there was just one word I could use to describe it, it would be "riveting". Matt Damon is tremendous as the husband of the first person who contracts the sickness, not to mention the fact that, in the film, he's a Minnesotan. Kate Winslet, Jude Law, and a number of others held my interest throughout and the final scene where the genesis of the outbreak is shown cemented, in my mind, the movie as a masterpiece. I was on a high for the next few hours as we dined at Famous Dave's and then headed home. Going to the movies is my drug of choice; no need to drink alcohol, smoke cigarettes, or write a book about my life.

Nuptials

2011-10-01T11:26:00.000-05:00

Long time readers may remember that me and Dori had some marital issues back in 2007; we wound up getting divorced that summer. Those issues have long since been worked out, but there was one thing missing: getting married again. A week ago today, it finally happened.

Since this was Take 2, we didn't feel that a big deal needed to be made of it. We hired a justice of the peace to perform the ceremony and rather than it taking place in a courthouse, as I initially envisioned, it was done just adjacent to our neighbors' rose garden.

Being a pop-culture connoisseur, it should be no surprise that the 70's classic "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden" played in my mind from time to time during the ceremony. Here is a picture from it:

Next are the words that the justice of the peace spoke (click on the pic to see it full-size):

We used two songs during the ceremony: our original wedding one (Martina McBride and Jim Brickman's "Valentine") and a song that was a big hit the year we met (Celine Dion's "Because You Loved Me").

Here are a few more pics from said event (our house is in the background in the shot directly below):

Road Block

2011-09-22T15:16:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago, I got that sinking feeling one gets when they lock themselves out of their house or car. We were leaving for Godfather's Pizza and I turned the lock on the side door that leads to our garage and let it shut just as I realized that the key to our house was not in my pocket. It wasn't in Dori's, either, as she had figured I could take care of such a simple thing.

It had been imperative that we leave when we did as I wanted to get to Godfather's when the buffet started at five as that's when the best selection of pizza are available, not to mention it's less crowded. I called information and got the number to a local place that we've used before called Paul's Lock & Key. I was told that it would cost $67 for someone to come out and that it'd be about 20 minutes before the guy would show up.

If only there was a way to break into the house. As a teenager, my mom sometimes locked the apartment we lived in on her lunch forgetting that I didn't have a key and counted on her to keep it unlocked. Since the dwelling was on the ground floor, it wasn't too big a problem for me to take the screen off my bedroom window and lift the window up.

Our house is a split-level. I checked the windows in the basement, but they were all securely locked as they should be. The only way I could reasonably make a break was at the window located about eight feet above ground in the front; this is the window that Zoe likes to look out on to view her turf. The screen was on there tight, but the window was open. The only problem, we didn't have a ladder.

Dori encouraged me to just wait for the locksmith, but getting the pizza I wanted, not to mention avoiding an unexpected fee weighed heavily on my mind as I put our garage dumpster below the window. I carefully got on top of it, but realized it wasn't tall enough for me to be able to enter the window. We did have a dumpster for recyclables, however, that was about 9 inches taller. I brought that one out and felt that if I jumped about a foot, I could enter the window.

Next, I needed to cut the screen open. Laying near the basketball hoop in the garage was one of those cutters that are used to chop weeds. I grabbed it and used the smaller dumpster to get onto the bigger one. I took the weed cutter and started slicing at the sides of the frame. Cheaper, I thought, to get a new screen than paying for a locksmith to come out.

Zoe, standing in the living room, gave me a WTF look.

Once I cut three sides out, it was magic time. I lifted the window high enough to make it through if I was able to make the jump. A minute later, I did so and felt the top of the couch on my belly. Success! I called Paul's Lock and told them I was able to find a way in, but wouldn't hesitate to call if a similar situation arose.

I shut (and locked) the window that had been my salvation and headed out with keys, making it to Godfather's before the buffet got going and hearing the happy tune of Dori telling me that she was impressed with my handiwork.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part XI

2011-09-05T15:32:00.001-05:00

I was familiar with the final lecturer of the weekend from Deepak Chopra's keynote the summer before. To illustrate the way that the two hemispheres of the brain work, he'd shown a video of Jill Bolte, a brain doctor, relating the morning that she woke up and while exercising, had a stroke. This video led the organizers of Celebrate Your Life to book her for this year's conference. Hearing the full story, in person, would certainly be superior than watching on video (though it had been projected onto a very large screen). I sat by the older ladies I was with the two previous nights and told the one next to me what had happened in the prior workshop.

Bolte opened by saying that she didn't recall the last time she'd received so many hugs and so much love from the attendees of a conference; course most of those previous ones were with doctors who are not generally the type to give a full-on embrace, not with the possibility of genitals touching (if only in passing).

One of the most provocative aspects of her story is how, as the stroke was overcoming her, she felt bliss as the thinking part of her brain shut off. Imagine having no thoughts on your mind, none at all. She was in pure beingness, feeling elation and euphoria, not wanting to listen to the voice off in the distance that was pleading with her to get help.

She encouraged us all to donate our brains to the institution she worked at. She said there just aren't enough people doing so, that if they did, a greater understanding of the organ would come along that much sooner. She even sang a little ditty that she wrote about the subject. From time to time, I would think back to Sonia's workshop, still finding what I'd done there a bit hard to believe.

Once Bolte's presentation ended, most of the crowd headed out. I said goodbye to the ladies I'd sat with and then talked for a bit with a woman I'd met the year before. While there, I was asked by a couple women if I'd like to give a testimonial. Not knowing what I was going to say, but loving the idea of maybe seeing myself on camera, I said, "Yes". A few seconds later, I was told that the camera was rolling. I said something like this:

"Hi. My name is Tom. We just got done listening to Jill Bolte talk about her experience of having a stroke. This is the 4th time I've been to Celebrate Your Life. I like Neale Donald Walsch, Marianne Williamson. Sonja Choquette called me onstage earlier today. It was a bit scary, but I'm glad I did it. I'd recommend anyone interested in these authors coming to the next conference and checking it out. You won't be disappointed".

A few minutes later, I walked with the woman from last year to the lobby, glad that we had gotten caught up. Before going to pick up my life partner, I did a quick walk-around to see if there was anyone left that I knew. The Spanish-looking woman from Texas, who I'd met at lunch the day before, was there, waiting for her ride to come. We embraced as she shared her experience of Sonia's workshop.

She marveled at the confluence of events which occurred that allowed her to receive what she felt was a communication from her late father: the man next to her had said his name during one of Sonia's one-on-one exercises. It was apparently a case of dominos falling perfectly into place. I asked for her email address, which she wrote, followed by...

Porsupuesto Perfecto - Nada es una coincidencia

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part X

2011-08-20T10:00:00.001-05:00

Continuing my trend of seeking the get the best seats possible, I arrived early for Sonia Choquette's 90-minute workshop, so early, in fact, that I opened the door to the room and was suprised to see just one person inside: Sonja at the front of the room doing some stretches as magic time approached. I'd been highly energized by the keynote address she's given the previous summer and looked forward to experiencing it again. She was a surprise late addition to the weekend's teachers and fitted perfectly into a slot where they weren't any authors I'd been particularly interested in.

I was first in line as a number of people stood next to me, waiting to get their book signed by Gregg Braden. After a few minutes, I got a bit nervous as no one was getting behind me. Feeling I'd had the wrong door (I was at the one they let us in the day before), I headed to the other side where a couple dozen people were in queue. Oh, well, I thought. I'd still be able to sit in the front half of the room. As I talked to a lady behind me and said I was from Minnesota, she noted that my voice had a touch of an Alaskan accent to it. I said, "You betcha" and she smiled. The lady in front of me hadn't been to the conference before, so I told her a bit about the ins and outs of it. When she said she was from the Chicago area, I replied that her face gave the impression that this was the case. The reason I felt that was she looked a great deal like a friend I knew in college who was from a Chicago suburb.

We were let in a few minutes later and I opted to sit next to her on the aisle of the 5th row. Extra seats were brought in as dozens had heard about Choquette's workshop the day before and wished to change who they had been scheduled to see for Sonia. A pleasant vibe was felt immediately as a number of upbeat tracks were played by Shamrock; he's the one who had set the ballroom on fire the previous June dancing like a junebug. I made a number of silly comments about him to my classmate, things like, "When Shamrock gives someone his height, does he include the two-inch bulge of hair just above his crown chakra?"

Sonia came out to much applause a little after 1:30 in a beautiful multi-colored summer dress.

I didn't even think during the entire time that she sounded like Mary Steenbergen, something that was heavily on my mind the year before. To get everyone loosened up, she once again had us stand up, turn to the right, and give the person in front of us a shoulder massage. A minute later, we were instructed to give karate-chop hits on their shoulders. All this while we shook our hips vigorously. Next we turned around and did the person on our left.

As we got underway, she said that laughter was incredibly important when it came to getting in touch with your spirit, exactly what Tamura had told us an hour before. She then showed a couple other things we could do like saying, "Mwwwaaa" and gently hitting ourselves in the chest and saying, "Haaaaaaaaa". I wound up being glad I didn't wind up in the front as Sonia called two people up to the stage who were sitting there. The first lady who I'd met at Neale's workshop the day before looked like a deer caught in the headlights as Choquette asked her to sing a song for the crowd. She did a nice job, but it wasn't really soulful. Sonia gave her a minute and asked her to put her heart into it. She responded by singing Janet Jackson's "Together Again". Such a difference in how her face looked, in how her eyes appeared afterward. Of course, I would be petrified to do such a thing, but was plenty safe where I was sitting.

We were told to do an exercise with the person next to us in which we told the other the things we loved. And we had to keep saying what we loved til we couldn't think of any more. This was harder than I anticipated and I had problems coming up with more than four at a time. Next, we were told to tell the other what we were afraid of. I started by saying, "Carny people" and "rottweilers" and got the laugh that I expected. I then said that I'd thought of those two before and would now go into the real deal, being afraid of not having others to love, gaining weight, becoming disabled.

Sonia asked a lady in the front row what she was afraid of, but the answers she was getting didn't seem to be from spirit, from outside of her mind, so she had her come on stage where she was exposed for all to hear. She teared up a bit as she ran through the things that she was fearful of.

After doing some explaining of the five spirit types that exist, she told the microphone runner, "What about the handsome man in orange?"

*gulp* She asked me for ways to know that one was in touch with spirit. I did good at first, but then stumbled when she asked the part of the body that keeps you in touch with your soul. She had said something about the solar plexus earlier, so that's what I said, but chided myself when I realized that the hips are where she actually said it was at. I made a quick mention of "18 inches", the amount of space between the heart and the head and got a laugh from it, but I was grasping for straws a by that point.

I thought, "Oh, shit" as she asked me to come up front. She instructed me to wave to the crowd where I was greeted by a deluge of waves. In the crowd, I spotted a number of people that I'd become familiar with over the past couple of days, including the two who had already been called up, all with smiles on their faces and wishing me well.

Sonia asked that I tell the crowd of more than 100, mostly women, ways that we could get in touch with our spirit. I started with the old standard of just being, not thinking, and then started moving my hips swiftly from side to side while speaking. I didn't move my hips once during the fast songs that played while on the dance floor during my wedding reception, but hell if I was going to do it half-assed and have Sonja ask me to do it with more vigor. So I shook it fast as I ripped off a few more tips, things like saying, "Mwaaa", hitting yourself gently on the chest saying, "Aaahhh", giving people massages, karate chops, and saying that making people laugh is also a good way to get in touch.

I was more than a little dazed as I got a round of applause and Sonia said, "I like you" as I headed back to my seat. I was incredibly calm and relaxed as I sat down, the fear I'd had a moment earlier gone. I'm not sure how I was able to do this in front of all those people. I just know that I was feeling very comfortable in my body and no negativity whatsoever. I'd like to have actually seen a recording of what I did, but the memory will have to suffice (though I do now have an audio recording of the workshop as a keepsake).

I was complimented the rest of the afternoon by about a half-dozen people who'd seen my performance including one lady who'd said that I was "terrific". I also ran into the young lady who'd sang onstage and touched her hand as I said that she sounded great. We'd both been through the gauntlet, but lived to tell the tale.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part IX

2011-08-12T14:10:00.001-05:00

I'm more than a little ashamed to admit that in the early morning hours on Sunday, I had my arms around the body pillow that the Westin had provided for its guests. It's hard to deny the appeal of having one's arms around something. It's what they're for, after all; my Bible tells me so.

I woke up nice and early for my last day at Celebrate Your Life. While brushing my teeth, I felt a loose particle on the upper right side, so spit it out. It hit the sink and went straight down the drain; kinda like Obama these days. Once I finished brushing, I felt something missing from that same area and shuddered as I realized that what I'd spit out was actually a filling. I wasn't going to be the man today that I was just a few hours before.

Knowing there was nothing I could do about it that day and feeling no pain, I headed downstairs to see Neale for the last time that weekend. I was happy to see no one waiting yet, so was assured a good seat. A forty-something who came up behind me was in the mood to chat, so I told her how I came upon Neale and asked how she did the same.

As it grew closer to Go Time, the Wisconsin native wondered why we hadn't been seated yet. I told her that the room had to be specially prepared as Neale liked to open each workshop by doing five minutes of stand-up. She totally bought it as I laughed.

I got my usual front aisle seat and readied myself for more wisdom from on high. Below is a pic of Neale gesticulating for all to see (I can be seen in front wearing an orange shirt. Wearing orange means one's serious about their spirituality and is, in most cases, on the right path. Monks are a prime example of this):

The subject that morning was on the Mechanics of the Mind and the System of the Soul. At one point, he pointed in my direction and said, "This guy's probably thinking, 'I didn't know this was going to be a college psychology course'". He talked of how, many times, we assume something is true when it really isn't. For example, there were a couple girls from the year before who I felt were blowing me off, but it turned out that they weren't; I was able to catch up with them later that day. It was a bit humbling to know that I was just as likely to fall victim to the "apparent truth" conundrum as those of a less spiritual bent.

Being in the front allows for much more interaction with Neale. He talked of how various behaviors don't work as well in different contexts. Being sensuous at home is a fine thing (unless the mother-in-law is visiting, of course), but doing it in a restaurant might lead to a slapped face. Neale demonstrated this by leaning forward and acting as if he was going to strike me. I playfully backed up a bit as he did so.

It's much easier to really listen when one is sitting close as well. In one instance, Neale asked the group what the mind helps us to do. Remembering the definition he'd given us an hour before, I didn't hesitate to say, "It helps us to survive". Neale replied with, "Somebody's paying attention!" I gave a thumbs-up. I admit, it's great being a teacher's pet.

As the seminar ended, I headed off to see Michael Tamura again. I took one last look at Neale signing books before continuing down the hall. One of the biggest laughs I got was when one of the older ladies who'd cut to the front of the line at Neale's all-day two days before, went outside to have a smoke. The wind was strong as her every effort to light a cigarette failed. I physically stopped to see how things turned out. This exact same scenario happened there a few years before; it may have even been the same lady. She wound up going behind a column and getting it lit there. The show being over, I continued on.

There weren't many seats open in the first few rows of Tamura's 'shop, so I opted for the sixth or seventh row next to a nice-looking lady from Minneapolis. She asked where my significant other was. I said that she'd been to this conference in '08 and that it saved money if, while I went to this, she saw her sister who lives just a few miles down the road and who she rarely sees. This answer didn't completely satisfy her. She was surprised to hear that I planned to drive the six hours home that night. I said that I'd done it thrice before and that it was cheaper than flying. I did understand the appeal, however, of taking a plane from Bloomington straight on through to Chi-Town.

Tamura was introduced a few minutes later and got to work on educating us. Below is a pic of the three of us:

He had the lady next to me laughing, not least when he said, "Do you know how you become an advanced student of mine? By attending more than one of my workshops".

As he looked across the room, he said that all of us have had multiple lives, both as women and men. A number of traits I have make me all but certain that I've experienced womanhood. He described a "platoon" of souls waiting to be incarnated, excited at the opportunity to experience physical life. Many cry that they didn't pick their parents when, in actuality, according to Tamura, they did.

Typically, parents are chosen that will most help the soul in experiencing spiritual growth, so if you have difficult parents, ultimately, it was to your highest benefit. What value is there, after all, in having a mom and dad who are perfect? Tamura said that he sometimes helps these souls find parents. When questioned about possibilities, he'll say, "I know a couple suckers". He was joking, of course, but can you imagine giving birth to a soul who was once, say, Genghis Khan's brother?

One of the best points made is that saints weren't always saints. They all had to go through trials and tribulations in which they hurt others. Even Jesus wasn't without sin. The audience was rapt as Tamura said that he was Mongolian in a prior lifetime. He had a lot of power and misused it by causing people that weren't in his tribe to be hurt. At that time, he believed in separation, that his people were superior to others. It took awhile, but he was eventually able to see that none of us is more deserving of life and love than any other.

Once the workshop ended, I headed to the large room where a small boxed lunch was served. As I headed to a table to eat with the 'Sconnie native, I touched the shoulder of one of the ladies I'd been sitting with in the evenings.

One of the reasons people seem to like to talk to me is because of how readily I can bring up pop cultural references that pertain to the period of time that the other is talking about. For example, the lady at lunch said she read some spiritual works as a teen in the 70's. The first thing I asked was if she'd read Jonathan Livingston Seagull. A minute later, I brought up the Seth material. I asked what kind of music she liked back then, giving examples like the Eagles, James Taylor, and Fleetwood Mac.

The last time I got a haircut, from a woman who'd I worked with at another job, she said that my memory of details is amazing, that I'm like an encyclopedia. With the advent of Google, I suppose this is less compelling than it once was, but it still makes me a curiosity at dinner parties.

Once I finished lunch, I headed to the lobby for a few minutes' walk before the next seminar. I saw Tamura walking my way and said hi to him. He replied in kind as I was now just minutes from what would be the most memorable workshop I'd experience that weekend, certainly the most adrenaline-inducing.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part VIII

2011-08-02T11:19:00.002-05:00

I next headed to the room where Michael Tamura, the man who had so tickled me the prior summer, was scheduled to speak. Imagine going somewhere and knowing that, without question, you are going to laugh. Many times I go to comedies at the movie theatre and am let down when they don't make me laugh or not as hard as I was hoping. The true belly laugh is something that is hard to come by, so when it comes, you really have to appreciate it.

I was surprised to see open seats in the front row and hustled up there. The room seemed bigger and more airy then the others. The Spanish lady from Neale's 'shop (the one I just left) sat next to me. A few minutes later, the Spanish lady from lunch asked if the seat on the opposite side was open. I answered in the affirmative.

I next proceeded to tell the ladies what they were in for: a happy man who exudes positivity, so much so that he has a tendency to laugh at his own jokes: sometimes he's the only one. As he was being introduced by his wife, he was making faces and rolling his eyes a bit as if to say, "Hey, I'm not all that".

He started with an account of the time he had some type of attack and the ambulance was rushing him to the hospital. Tamura then said, "It didn't look like I was gonna make it...and I didn't." He described leaving his body and seeing his wife driving in an SUV behind the ambulance. She, being a clairvoyant, saw his spirit in the sky and Tamura said she shook her fist at him as if to say, "Get your ass back into that ambulance!"

He said all this with a smile on his face and the story may have been the occasion on which I laughed the hardest that weekend. From time to time, I would look at the others around me, most with a serious look on their face, unsure of what to make of this man.

Lots of wisdom was shared during those 90 minutes, but the lightheartedness made it so much more enjoyable. It's amazing how the way certain words are spoken can translate into convulsions in the ribs, but it is, without question, one of life's greatest pleasures.

He teased that one of the things expected of those who took one of his advanced classes was being able to hold one's breath for four hours. We closed with a meditation that had me smiling, not least when he directed us to "Look at the ceiling...even though it's not very interesting".

I looked forward to seeing him again the following day, though that workshop would take a more serious turn.

After relaxing for the next hour in my room, I headed downstairs to see Marianne Williamson. She was going to be discussing her new book which was about weight loss. Being at a normal weight, I had no interest in the subject, but felt I could get up and leave if it became intolerable.

I wound up finding the older ladies I'd sat with the night before and was happy that I'd get to sit on the aisle again; I was in about the ninth row. When Marianne came out, a lady behind me took the words right out of my mouth when she said, "She's so tiny!" I thought, at first, that she was referring to her weight which I somewhat doubted was in the triple digits, but came to see that she may have been referring to her petiteness with regards to heights as well.

Being a bit bored at the beginning, I shared a few wisecracks with the lady next to me. At one point, I leaned in to her and said (referring to Williamson): "Do you think she's wearing a girdle?"

I noticed an older man sitting one row in front of me across the aisle. Wearing glasses, he had a can that looked like Gandalf's stick and held a crystal in his hand. He stared at it for quite some time, more fascinated by it that what was being said. I gather that he purchased it from one of the dozens of vendors that were selling their goods at the conference. I've no use for crystals myself. If everything that occurs is for my highest good, what point would there be in owning such a thing? If it gives others comfort, however, well, good for them.

Thankfully, Williamson moved on to things that I had more of an interest in. She shared a piece of wisdom that has stayed with me since I first heard it in the early 90's. The line is, "My safety lies in my defenselessness." Many times when I stressed, those six words soothed me and told me that things would go better if I just let things be instead of fighting against them. I was reminded me of another line from one of her books: "The sky is always blue, even when a gray cloud passes by."

There was one bit I disagreed with, however. At one point, she said, "If you fight yourself, you're gonna lose." I instantly thought, "Well, wouldn't that mean, that a part of yourself won?"

Near the end, she took audience questions and I loved it when she was standing just a few feet in front of me. Below is a pic from that moment; I can be seen on the left wearing a light blue shirt with a bit of a bald spot. The crystal-watcher can be seen on the right wearing green pants.

Hearing this woman speak so eloquently right in front of me is why I come to these conferences and Williamson was the first self-help New Age-type author I ever read.

I skedaddled out of there pretty quick once Marianne finished up. Having signed my copy of one of her books last year, I wanted to hit Popeye's one more time before leaving town the next day. I made it about twenty minutes before they closed. They were out of corn on the cob, but the chicken more than made up for it.

I returned to the hotel with the beverage I'd bought at the restaurant. I held the cup up high to my right shoulder with the Popeye's logo facing out so that those who walked past me would not escape knowing where I'd just ate. As I got off the elevator, a man looked directly at the cup and then at me, receiving the message I'd been trying to send.

I walked through the bar to see if there was anyone around that I knew before heading upstairs for my last night at Celebrate Your Life. Little did I know that the following afternoon, just like on Friday, I would be called up to the front for a demonstration, only this time, it would be in front of a much larger audience.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part VII

2011-07-17T20:50:00.001-05:00

The next three lectures represented the heart of my Saturday, all given by men that I'd seen before. It started off with a visit with Michael Traub, a man whose talent is to allow himself to be possessed by a man with an Irish accent who passed many moons ago. I'd found the spirit extremely amusing, probably funnier than most stand-ups the previous year, so was looking for more laughter as morning wound down.

I found a good seat in the second row between two younger women. I told them a bit about what to expect and to have a question in mind right away so that the mic runner could make sure to get to them early on before the whole room had their hands raised. The college-age lady to my right had a great deal of excitement on her face as she eagerly awaited hearing the wisdom that was to come forth for her that day. I was somewhat envious of the joy she displayed, but happy that I was able to share it in some small way.

She asked if she would be happy in the profession she'd gone to school for. O'Brien, the spirit, said, "There is no right or wrong way to go. But will you be happy there? No". She was given direction on a path to pursue that would give her more fulfillment and she quickly wrote it down once O'Brien moved on to the next person.

The lady to my left also had questions about what path to pursue career-wise. O'Brien asked if she was drawn to music as she had been a composer in past lives. A bit to her chagrin, he also stated that she and a friend liked to steal from villagers during medievel times. I didn't laugh as much as I had the year before, but seeing people get suggestions on ways to live more happily was enjoyable in its own right.

By this time, the neck ache that had bothered me the day before had crept back. Since the massage gals were located just a few feet from where Traub's conference was letting out, I hurried to the check-in and said I needed a massage. Wondering if they'd let me be seen a second time, I was glad that the lady in charge wasn't the same one as the day before.

I was directed to where a young lady was giving a massage to an older woman. I was only too happy to wait 10 minutes before she worked on my upper body. After telling her about the discomfort I was experiencing, she really went to town. She'd done something I'd not experienced before; going deep into my armpit to help alleviate the pain. What she was doing hurt, but I wasn't going to complain. She said to let her know if it did, but like the most stubborn man, my lips were sealed. I thanked her as I headed to the banquet room to have lunch.

Like prior years, it consisted of a turkey wrap, a soda, potato chips, an apple, and chocolate chip cookies. I found a table that wasn't completely filled and began by taking all the cheese off the turkey wrap. Silly dairy industry, wanting us to ingest things that come from the tits of another species. I conversated a bit with two ladies sitting to my left, one was from the Houston area, the other from nearby.

One of the main questions that attendees would ask each other is what speakers they'd seen and which ones they were scheduled to see. To do this quickly, all one had to do was look closely at the badge that the other person was wearing; it listed their complete itinerary. In some ways, this was like looking into their future. You could see the laughter they would experience if they were seeing Michael Tamura later that day, which I was scheduled for, or the talk about 2012 if you had plans to see the man whose charisma drove many of the women there crazy: Gregg Braden.

I noticed that the lady two seats over was scheduled to see Neale like me, so I asked if she wanted me to save a seat for her. She said she'd liked that, so I headed to the bathroom before waiting in line for the big guy. Coming in behind me was a young mixed-racial woman who'd brought a yoga mat with her. She said the yoga class offered that morning was fantastic.

We were let in about 15 minutes later. I got front row, center and saved the two seats to my right for the lady from lunch as well as the Latino who'd I'd had lunch with the day before. The jaw on the lady from that day's lunch dropped a bit when she walked in and saw that she was going to be sitting so close. She was like, "Damn...".

As Neale greeted people, the Latino asked if I'd take her picture with Neale. I said, "Sure" and got in close for a good shot. I said, "OK, ready, 1....2....3" and pressed down on the digital camera button. It hadn't take the pic for some reason, however. They said to try it again, which I did, but the same thing happened. The lady's face showed a bit of strain now, afraid that she wasn't going to be pictured next to her new favorite author. Neale asked that the lady take a picture of me to be sure the camera was working properly. She did and it did. It turned out that I wasn't holding down on the button like I should have been. No harm, no foul, however, as the third time wound up being the charm.

The lady from that day's lunch then asked if I could take her pic with Neale which I did. This was followed by another lady doing the same. I started to feel like I was the go-between for Neale and his many fans. Neale began his 90-minute discussion a minute or two later.

The subject was one I'd heard him speak of numerous times before. It involved having a conversation with God. He talked of how many religions don't believe that this is possible for Joe Schmo. I mean, they believe it's possible for God to communicate with man as they have books that were obviously written by men, but for the most part, these religions feel that that stopped at some point. The point that it stopped would depend on what religion one belonged to: depending on your disposition, it could be John the Revelator, Joseph Smith, or Ronald Reagan.

For those wondering, the exercise done as the seminar wound done was one in which a person asked a question they'd like the answer to. Notebooks were then put down as Neale led the group in a 8 to 10 minute meditation. As we came out of the meditation, we were told to write the answer that came to mind. The replies that many got sounded like they came from a very high place, as if God had actually spoken to them. This makes the point that all the answers we need lie within us.

I had two books for Neale to sign, so hung around afterward as he headed to a table where he would be affixing his John Hancock. What a laugh, I thought, if he signed his books by writing, "God". While he was signing my books, I said, "That purple shirt looks great on you". Neale responded with, "My wife said the same thing". Once he was finished, I said, "See you tomorrow" and headed to my next workshop.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part VI

2011-07-10T13:28:00.000-05:00

I'd all but written off going to see Iyanla Vanzant on Saturday morning. Not being familiar with her work and having the time that she would begin speaking changed from 9am to 8:30, I figured with the dry throat I'd exhibited on Friday, it'd be a good idea to sleep a couple extra hours and be ready for the breakouts that began at 11:30.

I woke up earlier than expected, however (at about 7:30) and decided to start getting ready, still not planning to go see her. I did something while on the trip that I very rarely do at home: shave every day. I wanted to feel ultra clean and pure each morning that I attended the workshops and was greatly helped in this endeavor by removing the hair from my face.

I heard people leaving and heading to Vanzant's talk as I brushed my teeth and so on. I started thinking about going, but knew I'd have to sit in the back side of the room if I did so. I was all ready at about 8:15 and figured, "What the hell, let's check this one out".

Surprisingly, I was able to get a seat in about the 10th row; it's easier to find seats if you're just a group of one as opposed to two or more, definitely a perk of going solo. As I waited for the show to get underway, a lady walked up front who had a shirt that said, "Love is my religion".

A young man who'd I'd seen at Neale's all-day the day before sat next to me. He told me he was originally from Denmark, but now lived in the States. I asked, "Where are you living?" and he said, "Where I am". Damn, he was good.

Iyanla came out to much applause a few minutes later. Most appeared to be quite familiar with her due to the fact that she appeared on Oprah more than a dozen times.

I'd heard of the book "One Day My Soul Just Opened Up", but didn't know any of the specifics of her life. She came out dressed all in white and wound up being a hoot. There were some aspects that I didn't particularly care for such as sometimes having an attitude when not being respected by others, but I can't say I've not done the same thing in similar circumstances.

Throughout the weekend, I noticed that certain words spoken by the speaker would queue up songs in my mind having to do with the words said. Whenever someone said, "Joy" which was frequent, I would think of "General Joy" by Tori Amos. When someone said, "Benefit", I thought of the Beatles' "Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite". When I heard "Make Me Better", I thought of the rap song of the same name. I wondered if others had the same experience or didn't know enough songs for this to happen to them all the time.

One of her discussions really hit the mark. She told us to frequently ask ourselves, "How many strangers can you make smile today?" One of the greatest joys in my life is making people laugh, even if it's at my own expense. Something I need to work on is smiling more at people.

She took a number of questions after she concluded the regular portion of her talk. A man from Maryland said he'd been married for 40 years to the same woman, a woman who sleeps with one of Iyanla's books under her pillow. He said that though they have separate bedrooms, they have a great sex life. This got a number of laughs as you might expect and I did a little whistle looking back at him. Vanzant kept the laughter coming by saying, "I wanna see the woman you're having sex with". The wife, embarassed beyond belief, rose a few inches, but didn't have the nerve to stand fully.

Another great quote she gave was, "Live your life with some pizazz and excitement! You're gonna die. Get over it. You might even be going to hell!". A great sense of humor and one I really resonated with. As people came up to her to sign books, there would be a number who had tears in their eyes. Iyanla responded by saying, "People look at me and start crying! What does that mean?"

As I left the ballroom, I was extremely pleased that my body had gotten me up when it did. Seeing this beautiful black woman had gotten my day off to a great start.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part V

2011-07-04T12:46:00.001-05:00

I wasn't particularly looking forward to any of the four keynotes that were taking place that weekend. I was either not very familiar with their work or they would be discussing subjects that held no interest for me (Marianne Williamson talking about weight loss, in particular). But there is great energy sitting in a room with hundreds of other people, so I got in line at a resonable time on Friday evening so that I might get a decent seat.

I wound up sitting in the aisle in the ninth row next to a couple of ladies from Iowa. It was their first time at the conference and I was happy to fill them in on some of the things that would be taking place. Sitting on the aisle is really a great place to be as you pretty much have a straight- on view of the lecturer. The speaker's name was Doreen Virtue.

I asked the lady next to me if she believed that was her real last name. Seemed a lot to live up to, if you ask me. Doreen's specialty was angels, a subject that I just don't particularly care about. Maybe I have guardian angels, but so what? I believe that everything that happens in our life is for our highest good. One of the first things she said is that people have emotional issues to work through. Just then, I thought, "Not me". Well, not really, anyway.

In the morning, she says she meditates before reading email which seemed a good idea. This allowed her to not get worked up by having a negative reaction to some correspondence that she received. She said that most all of us have some type of block, be it finance-related, having to do with sex, family, or one's job. We were to ask ourselves what our particular block was and then, "What blessing is this block bringing me?", a nice way, I thought, of seeing that there is some good in every thing that one would consider bad.

As the lecture continued, I noticed a guy kneeling on the floor and then getting up again around the periphery of Virtue. He was taking pics documenting this momentous occasion. I smiled as he was using one of those old-fashioned cameras that you can hear the shutter go off on. He was also wearing a neck band that said Canon on it. To top it off, he had one of those beanie-type hats on his heads. Admiring his style, I thought, "God, I wish I could pull off that look".

After the two hours were up, I was glad to have seen Doreen, but certainly had no plans to buy any of her books. One of the things that bothered me is that most of the angels she talked of were male. Why angels needed to have genitals bothered me to no end.

I headed for the parking ramp where a White Castle was waiting just a few miles away. I listened to Lady Gaga's new one as I drove there. Like the summer before, I ordered four sliders and some fries. The other patrons were total cliches' of the type of clientele one would expect to see there on a Saturday night. A couple booths away were some 20-something Indian males and a chubby stoner-type was chowing down at one of the high-tops.

I felt a tinge of loneliness as I returned to the hotel room. Turning the light on and having no one there was not something I was used to. The good thing about the full scheduling of the conference is that it doesn't allow one much time to be homesick. It was much easier to get to sleep that night than it had been the day before.

I looked forward to seeing two of my favorites from last year the next day and was so underwhelmed at the thought of seeing an Oprah fave (Iyanla Vanzant) first thing in the morning that I set my alarm for when she would be through speaking. Getting a little more shut-eye would be more valuable in the long run, I thought, than seeing the "One Day My Soul Opened Up" author speak.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part IV

2011-06-26T15:48:00.001-05:00

Things got started again at 2pm. From time to time, Neale's wife would share some of the poetry she'd written. One of my favorites starts with the line, "Nothing needs fixing". Those three words have brought me much peace this year. Things are fine just as they are.

We did a meditative exercise in which for a minute, we looked at the things we'd experienced starting with birth on through to the present day. Another minute was spent looking at the things we'll most likely be experiencing over the course of the rest of our lives (pun intended). I saw a lot of joy in the future, but also the passing of loved ones and pets. Neale said that the things we were visualizing had nothing at all to do with what is going on at this very minute, with what is happening now.

At the end, as we opened our eyes, we were instructed to look at something we agreed with. I looked at a light on the ceiling. When he asked us to look at something else we agreed with, I stared at a balloon and then at my pen.

When our time was about up for the day, Neale looked upon me, there in the front row, pointed at me and then asked that I stand up. He mentioned that I'd been to his retreats before. I nodded and said that last summer was the most recent time. He directed me to stand about six inches away from him. We were about to perform an experiment in which we stare into each other's eyes for 60 seconds straight. I was familiar with this exercise, but had never done it with another (I did it once in the mirror and fell in love with myself).

What a person to do it with and in front of dozens of others! Though it would be difficult, I resolved not to laugh or flinch. It wasn't easy, but I was able to do so. I stared directly into the eyes of the man whose book had changed my life almost 15 years ago for a full minute. He looked into my eyes and didn't even blink; I did once or twice. When the minute was up, he drew me close to him and then embraced me. This was certainly not something I expected when I woke up that morning.

The purpose of the exercise was to show that it's virtually impossible to dislike someone after staring deeply into their eyes, which many say are the windows to the soul. Many times when people argue, they don't look closely into the eyes of the other, preferring to get their point across over seeing their common humanity.

As the room was being broken down for that evening's keynote address, I got in line to have my pic taken with Neale; I've done this three times before. I asked the guy behind me to do the honors and here's what I got:

On a nice little high, I walked two blocks to the local mall which had a Subway that I'd visited before. While in line, a girl of about 18, upon seeing a pie, said to the cashier, "You have pizza?!" The man said, "Yes" to which the girl said, "I didn't know that".

There was a nice little surprise in the dispenser where change is given to people after they've paid for their order. I dug out three quarters before my own change was put there. I'll leave dimes, nickels, and pennies in there when I get em, but not quarters. Speaking of which, I had 18 cents I wanted to get rid of as I left the food court. I wound up dropping it as I passed three teenagers. I didn't look back to see if they picked it up or not. It's always a laugh wondering what their reaction was.

As I left JCPenney and headed back to the hotel, I saw three women from Neale's all-day, two of whom were smoking. The eldest pointed at me and said, "There's that guy" to her friends. I smiled and waved.

I spent a short amount of time in my room before getting ready to go to the first keynote lecture. More than a thousand souls would be present for it.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part III

2011-06-21T11:52:00.001-05:00

I woke up shortly before 7 and headed to the bathroom where a double-headed shower awaited me. Though still achy, the hot water brought me some peace. I had a warm low-sodium V8 and shaved before brushing my teeth. My desire to come across as good as possible translated to me brushing 4 times that day, a great deal more than is typical. But after lunch, I wanted to do it. Before the evening session and so on.

I was in the lobby at around 7:45. Not many attendees had congregated yet and there was no wait time at all to get my badge for the weekend. Strike that, there was a wait as the lady who searched for my badge was looking under Dickson, not Dixon.

I next went to the gift shop where I bought some cough drops. Priced 33% more that what they'd cost at the supermarket, I had no choice but to purchase them if I wanted to keep my mouth moist. I then staked out my spot near the door to the conference room as I waited to be seated. Three women were in front of me, which would mean I'd most likely get to sit in the front row.

The weekend was going to be kicked off with an all-day workshop with my favorite author, Neale Donald Walsch (he wrote the late 90's classic "Conversations With God"). This would be the fifth event that I'd be seeing him at.

A woman of Hispanic descent came in line behind me. I asked how she'd come to know Neale's work. She said she was very new to it and like me, had signed up to see him every day that weekend. A couple of older ladies, twins, came up to the redhead who was first in line and hugged her. They'd obviously met at previous events. I didn't think it fair when they both took spots up front with her, but didn't think it was worth saying anything.

We were led into the room relatively late as Neale likes to greet people before they come in. When his wife arrived, she recognized me, smiled, and extended her hand to me. I wound up sitting in front, on one side by a lady who attended the all-day last year and on the other by a woman who'd attended the year before. I was embraced by the one from 2009; not surprisingly, she told me a short time later that giving hugs to people regularly had become a part of her spiritual practice. As I left to go to the bathroom, Neale spotted me and said with a smile on his face, "You again?" I said, "Great to see you, good to see you" as I touched his shoulder.

He was scheduled to talk about soul contracts which are arrangements made before we are born in which we decide what souls we'll be working with in life and in what ways. It took him a while to get to this topic, however, as he wanted to give those present some background on his life.

Like the previous year, he didn't want to give a morning break as that chews up 20 minutes that we could be learning or as he would say, remembering. I knew I wouldn't make it to lunch without hitting the head, so just like a movie, timed my departure to when a boring part came up. I chose to go when he started talking about the parable of The Little Soul and the Sun.

You can read it in full here. I'd heard it a number of times before, so knew I wasn't missing much by leaving at that time. As I exited the room, I heard him say, "He's heard this one before!"

Throughout the morning, I took a number of cough drops and my throat gradually got better. I wasn't out of the woods, however, as my neck had started hurting. I chalked it up to driving more than six hours the day before. If I kept my neck positioned a certain way, I was alright, but decided that I'd sign up to get a 10-minute massage that afternoon with the organization that was relieving physical pain for those that needed it that weekend.

One of the nuggets that Neale shared with us was to smile five times a day for no good reason. I'm doing that very thing as I'm writing this. Would you do the same as you read this sentence, dear reader?

Since it's been two years since his last book, I was glad to hear that his new one comes out this fall, cleverly titled "The Storm Before the Calm".

We broke for lunch at 12:30. I dined with the Latino lady as we discussed each other's lives. Lunch consisted of a salad that one put together while in a buffet line. To make sure I wouldn't get hungry that afternoon, I ate something I'd not had in many, many months: a dinner roll. After she cleaned her plate, she said that she wanted to do some shopping; they have a number of vendors there, not to mention books by all the authors speaking that weekend.

I went to where the massages were given out and was pleased that I only had to wait a couple minutes. I'd never had a chair massage before; I always have ones in which I lay down. Beggars can't be choosy, however, so I sat in the chair as I told the young woman that my neck was bothering me.

It may be apparent by now that I wasn't really encountering any males at the conference. This is a happy by-product of being on a spiritual path. Only about one out of every ten attendees is male and we are frequently complimented on having the balls to do so.

The massage didn't completely alleviate the discomfort, but I was so pleased at getting some relief that I gave the masseuse five dollars as a "donation".

As I returned to the conference room, I had no idea that Neale would wind up calling me to the front of the room before the day was out to give a real-life example of a powerful spiritual truth.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part II

2011-06-16T13:22:00.001-05:00

My original plan was to check in at the hotel and then go eat supper at Popeye's. I realized, however, that it would be much more convenient to just go eat and then head to the hotel where I would be staying for the remainder of the night. I looked forward to watching some of the NBA Finals on TV if not in my room, then at the bar downstairs.

As I drew closer to Lombard, the city where the conference was taking place, I started coughing every now and then. Dori had noticed this a bit earlier and hoped I wasn't coming down with anything. I said, "Not a chance" and continued to drive merrily along. Now that it was becoming more acute, the thought entered my mind that I might not be at full speed for the weekend. Something similar happened last year on the drive down; my neck was so achy that I had to put a pillow behind my head.

In some ways, I was looking forward to Popeye's almost as much as the conference. I'd first tried it the summer before and went there twice in four days. Going back for more was an absolute necessity as there are no locations within 100 miles of where we live. I walked in and ordered a 2-piece with a corn of cob. I went to the fountain and got Hawaiian Punch for a drink, but it was totally bland. Not wanting to mess with caffeine or carbonation, I put the Crystal Light I'd brought along into the Popeye's cup and went from there.

The food was as delicious as 12 months before, but I noticed I wasn't eating as mindully, as slowly as I had the last time I was there. It may have been anxiety at getting checked in at the hotel. You see, I had a bit of a concern that since my name wasn't on the credit card that was used to bill the hotel, I might have problems when I got there. Dori was supposed to have accompanied me there, but her sister was feeling ill and requested that I drop her off first. I took things a bit more easy as I had my last few bites.

Next, it was off to the hotel where wonder of wonders, the check-in clerk, the one who had so sincerely said "Welcome" a minute before, said that they usually don't let people check in who aren't listed on the reservation, but since I had copies of the confirmation and there was a Mr. listed in there somewhere, she would "let it slide". Here's a pic of the check-in area:

Happy that I had a place to sleep, I parked the car in the ramp and brought my luggage inside. This included my two favorite pillows and a small fan. From the 7th floor, I had a great view of Target. I was feeling great at this point, though the cough was still a bit of a concern.

After spending so much time on the road, I felt now was a great time to take a hot bath and just relax. This is what the bathroom looks like:

In some ways, the trip had come up a bit too fast. I was secretly hoping that it would still be a few weeks away. Staying in a hotel by myself and being away from our home and pets isn't something I'm a big fan of. Plus, I wondered if I'd really even get anything out of this year's workshops. But I was here now and like it or not, magic time was approaching.

It was about 7pm as I put my robe on and just then, a wave of exhaustion overcame me. All thoughts of going downstairs to watch the game passed as I realized that it would be best to just get plenty of sleep that night and be as fresh as possible for the next morning.

I headed to the bathroom where I sat on the floor and had some snacks before turning in: a package of Oreo Cakesters, a small bag of Cheetos, and a Cherry Nutri-Grain bar. I read a 5-year old Entertainment Weekly magazine while doing so. One great thing about hotels is that you can really make the room dark. It's well known that having sex in a hotel is so exhilarating in large part because the male loves having sex in different places. I pulled down the shade and shut the curtains.

My mind raced as I tried to sleep. Hoping I wasn't coming down with anything, I knew I'd have to head to the hotel gift shop the next morning and get plenty of cough drops so that I wouldn't be a nuisance to others when a cough came on. I was able to finally get to sleep an hour later, but woke up what felt like 15 minutes after. In fact, I woke up at least five times that night. Not being roused by the cough, I had no explanation for why this was happening: Being in a different bed? Spending a lot of money on an experience that might not pay off? Worried that I'd be well under 100% through it all?

It wasn't looking good at this point, but damn if I wasn't going to give it my best shot when it came time to rise for the day.

A Soulful Trip to Chicago - Part I

2011-06-14T14:25:00.002-05:00

Last Thursday, for the fourth summer in a row, my beloved and I headed to the Chicagoland area; me to go to the Celebrate Your Life convention, her to visit with her only sibling. We left at about 10:30am expecting plenty of road construction along the way. I made sure I hadn't forgotten anything as I locked the front door and stepped into the car.

As usual, I'd brought about 20 CD's to listen to during the trip. As we got underway, Dori said, "We're not gonna listen to a lot of country, are we?" Though I'd brought some Vince Gill and George Strait, most of the rest were of the pop genre. We got underway with Genesis' greatest hits album. An hour later, I put on a CD that consisted of 70's and 80's TV show theme songs. My love had a good time trying to guess what some of them were. A few of her favorites were: "M*A*S*H", "St. Elsewhere", and "Little House on the Prairie".

By this point, we were well into Wisconsin. The temperature that afternoon was around 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Two days before, we'd experienced an incredible warmup. The high had been 98 degrees. I thought it was bad when I mowed the back yard a couple of days before when it was 93, but five degrees higher is even worse.

About halfway through 'Sconnie, we stopped at Subway for lunch. It turned out to be the same Subway we'd been to once before when driving to the Land of Lincoln. I chuckled while ordering my sub as the cashier looked awfully familiar. When he was ringing us up, I said, "Do you know who you look like? McLovin from "Superbad."

He neither laughed nor frowned, just said that he's been told that numerous times before. Poor guy. He should look into getting contacts.

I have this thing that I've done for years when I see roadkill on the highway. I look at the body as we go by and then lift my eyes quickly to heaven as if to say, "I know you died there, little fella, but am confident that your consciousness continues to exist". I do this not once, but three times for each animal I encounter. This doesn't happen much in the city limits, but on our ride last Thursday, occurred at least a dozen times. Damn if I didn't get a bit tired of doing it, but some habits are hard to break. Besides, after I pass one, I don't want some raccoon saying, "Hey, thanks for not acknowledging me, prick!"

A curious thing happened as we continued. There'd be signs that would say "Road Construction 3 Miles Ahead". My response would be, "I expected this and am ready for it". Five minutes later, I'd see orange barrels on the shoulder of the road, but none blocking any of the lanes. There would be a slightly reduced speed posted, but certainly not the kind of backups I'd been expecting.

The next disc I listened to was Maroon 5's new one "Hands All Over". A gift from my woman for my birthday, it had sat unopened for more than six months. I opened it up and listened to it as we drove through Madison and was impressed with the groovy sounds it offered. It was their first production with Mutt Lange, a man who'd worked on albums with Bryan Adams, Def Leppard, and Shania Twain.

We stopped at a truck stop shortly before passing over into Illinois. A man was giving what appeared to be his son a hard time saying things to him like, "You broke my fuckin' credit card" and "Let's go, boy". Just then, I thanked my old man for rarely exhibiting such theatrics.

We'd brought ten dollars worth of quarters for the tolls we would be encountering in the state that Obama was a senator of before making it to the big time. All was well as I turned off to the exit that would lead to my girl's sister's apartment. One problem, though: as I went through the toll area, there wasn't any place to put the 30 cents. Just a number of cameras. The person behind us honked and I lifted the money into the air as if to say, "Where the fook do I put this?" Not getting a reply, I continued on. Dori talked about possibly being fined a hundred dollars and said she'd talk to her sister about how to proceed.

Once we arrived at her loved one's, I helped bring her luggage in and asked if I could check my email. I did so while Dori gave her sister some late birthday presents. I was asked if I wished to stay a bit longer, but wanting to get checked in and have a bite before winding down was uppermost on my mind now that it was after 4pm. I said goodbye to the girls and got in my car, eager for the next step in my 4-day journey.

Thirty Years Ago

2011-06-06T13:52:00.002-05:00

In the late spring of 1981, I started seeing ads on TV for a movie coming out which starred Harrison Ford (he was in my favorite movie of the previous year, "The Empire Strikes Back"). It was produced by George Lucas, who was also behind the second "Star Wars" film.

I began asking my parents about seeing it. They weren't too convinced. The movie was only PG, but back then, that rating was much more strong than it is now. Lots of swear words could be contained in such a movie not to mention plenty of violence. I was 10 years old at the time and my parents were studious Jehovah's Witnesses.

My parents threw me a bone and said they'd go to the movie on their own and from there, decide if it was appropriate for me. You can imagine how eager I was that evening to hear if they were going to give me the green light. I can remember standing in the living room as my mother said that it wasn't too bad, that the main issue she had was near the end of the film when some of the villians' heads began melting. I smiled and said, "But I can still see it, right?" My mom said I could.

A few days later, I was treated to what turned out to be my favorite movie of the year. I loved the non-stop action, the search for an ancient artifact, and the music of John Williams (who had also scored the "Star Wars" films).

One of my favorite moments was in the second half of the film when Indiana sees a bunch of Nazis on a ship and says, "Holy shit". I'd never heard the word before and thought it was one of the coolest phrases ever.

Our town of 25,000 had a 4-screen theatre at the time and "Raiders" played for 10 straight weeks (held over!), then came back for 5 weeks, then returned later on for a few more. I went to it several times that year. One evening, I went to it on my own while my parents went to the Paul Newman - Sally Field courtroom drama "Absence of Malice".

That summer, I bought all the movie tie-ins that I could from it. I purchased the movie's soundtrack on record; my favorite track was probably "Desert Chase". I carried the novelization while we visited my great grandmother at the nursing home. I read the "Making Of" book at my desk in elementary school when I had free time.

One hot day, I walked from my grandma's house to JCPenney and saw that they had the first issue of the comic book adapted from the movie. I had no money, so hurried back and pleaded with my grandma to give me 50 cents so I could buy it.

On another afternoon, my mother dropped me off at Kwik Trip so that I could pick up packs of the Topps trading cards I'd heard were available there. I bought about a dozen packs and walked the seven blocks to where one of our friends lived.

Below is my favorite scene from "Raiders" and probably one of the best scenes I've ever witnessed in a movie (it's not complete for copyright reasons):

On Working Stand-Up

2011-05-30T14:38:00.001-05:00

I was recently asked if I'd like to work eight hours at a light industrial factory. I'd turned it down once or twice before, but feeling that a few extra bucks rarely hurts and curious how I'd do working a stand-up job, opted to give it a try.

Like most factory jobs, this one wouldn't be complicated; it consisted of putting product into a cardboard package. There was a bit of a time constraint to it as the product would be coming down an assembly line. I was a tad nervous as I was shown what to do. You needed to fold the packaging in a certain way in order for the product to properly fit. I struggled the first few times and had visions of episodes of "Undercover Boss" where the head of the company couldn't do the most piddling jobs.

Thankfully, for my ego's sake, I was able to get the gist of it and was placed along the line with six others. No music played as we worked, but neither was the environment very noisy from the machinery. I enjoyed hearing the conversation that took place as we worked. The man I was working opposite was looking forward to taking a trip to Vegas. As a joke, I asked if he planned to see Manilow.

He said, "That's not a bad idea".

This guy that just graduated high school had only two things on his mind: a kickball tournament coming up and boos. He went on and on about the different combinations of alcohol that gave him the most pleasure and told a co-worker that if he went out with him that night, he'd help him get laid.

My feet started to ache about three hours into the shift. I asked a lady who'd worked there before what she did for pain. She said she always took a couple pain pills partway through the shift. She also explained to me the difference between ibuprofen and acetaminophen. Perhaps the high school boy used boos as a pain nullifier instead of going the more conventional pill route.

At lunch time, a couple men in their 50's talked about how they could only handle working there a couple days a week, that the standing and repetitive motion was just too hard on their body otherwise. Being able to sit during that time was a blissful thing. I even went one better by going out to my car for a few minutes where I took my shoes off and massaged them against the brake pedal.

My back started to ache in the early afternoon. I would fidget this way and that trying to find a more comfortable position. And all the while, the product kept coming. One thing I'd forgot about was the camaraderie that many blue-collar workers have. We were all in the same boat, all doing our time for a few dollars more.

The last break was a nice reprieve as we got 20 minutes instead of 15 because of an older gentlemen that was retiring from the white-collar area. I smiled and clapped as they toasted a man I'd never met before. The cake tasted better, I'm sure, that it would've had I not worked my ass off for the past seven hours.

When the machines shut off an hour later, I was exhausted, but happy that I'd tried something new. Life, as they say, begins at the end of your comfort zone.

Picture Pages

2011-05-23T00:01:00.002-05:00

With not much to blog about of late, I thought it'd be a good time to write clever captions for photos I've recently scanned. Enjoy:

"He wasn't this fat when I married him."

Slick Willy and Bill Clinton

"Why does everyone laugh when I tell them my name is Tom Dick?"

"I'm missing hearing my favorite author speak so that I can walk you down the aisle. This marriage had better last."

"Brandy, you wanna get up? I'm gettin' a hard-on."

Happy Times RV Center

2011-05-10T16:20:00.004-05:00

With the celebration of my dad and his 2nd wife's 25th anniversary less than two weeks away, I thought it'd be a good time to go back to before they were married, to when they were merely business partners.

In the early 80's, they created a company that rented Recreational Vehicles (RV's) to people who wished to have all the pleasures of RV'ing without having to actually own one. I can personally attest that there are few things grander than being able to evacuate while in motion. No having to stop at dirty gas stations. No man in the next urinal trying to see how big (or small) my package is. As long as you don't mind a lot of shaking and hardly enough room to work with, it's quite the treat.

Dad's business gave us the opportunity to make some bucks, mostly by cleaning the RV's.

On most occasions, girls did the cleaning on the inside while the boys did the outdoor stuff, kinda like the arrangement my wife and I presently have. One of the lessons you really wanted to pay attention to is when he showed us how to empty the solid waste that had accumulated in the vehicle into a drain. If you didn't snap that hose on tight enough, you were gonna be in deep shit.

I can still remember one of the peptalks he gave us that summer (1984). He took one of the 3-foot brushes, dipped it into the soapy water, and gave it his all as he worked to remove the dirt that had collected on the vehicle. As he did so, he said, "You gotta get IN there". My brother, Matt, regurgitated the phrase when he felt it would be helpful to us. A brillo pad was used to clean the tires.

On one warm afternoon, my youngest brother, Mike, was getting frustrated that Matt wasn't pulling his weight, so said, in a very frustrated tone, "Work!!" Overall, the work wasn't too taxing and there was a lot of horse-play (spraying each other with the hose, most notably). Doing the front of the RV was typically the hardest as there would be dozens of bugs that needed to be sprayed off.

Perhaps the most pleasant memory of that summer were two of my stepmom-to-be's grandchildren. Dressed in similar-looking tops and shorts, they were very close to my age, good-looking, and mighty serious when it came to doing their jobs. They had no fear of washing the outside of the vehicles and there were a number of moments when I wished that I could be the rear section of a recreational vehicle, if only for a few minutes.

They had this weird thing going where they would leave their shoes untied all day. It happened too much for it to be an accident. They were asked about it once, but didn't make any adjustments. That kind of thing just made them seem all the cooler.

Once an RV had been completely cleaned, my dad drove it to a gas station located a few miles away to fill it up. This also ensured that it was still running smoothly. We sometimes accompanied my dad during this trip, enjoying the air conditioning and listening to a few tunes (my dad was a big fan of country at the time, but sometimes let us listen to pop music).

Though Happy Times RV no longer exists, it brought a lot of smiles to a lot of souls over the years. Happy Anniversary, Dad.

I'm History

2011-04-25T11:24:00.002-05:00

In the fall of 1989, I began matriculating at Winona State. Not feeling that the past summer was enough of a reprieve from the grind, I opted to take two classes instead of the usual four. It was, I felt, a way to ease into college, to dip my foot in the water first, you could say.

Since I had no fookin idea what my major was going to be, I took two generals: Psychology and American History. I was nothing, if not prompt, for my Psych class. Set in a huge classroom (which seated at least 65 people), I was frequently the second one there and chose a seat that should be no surprise to those who are familiar with my personality: way in the back, in the corner, next to the door. If I got woozy, it would be no sweat to just get up and head to the head.

There was a lady who typically got there before me. A little better than average-looking, with dark hair, she reminded me of Michael J. Fox's love interest in "Teen Wolf".

Her seat of choice was right smack-dab in the middle of the classroom. We frequently talked for a number of minutes before other classmates arrived. In my eyes, she was just the kind of girl I'd like to marry one day. I was too shy, at that point, however, to make any moves. One of the terms I learned during the class and which has stuck with me to this day is homeostasis.

Getting to my other class, American History, was more of a challenge as Winona State was now offering some of its classes at the site of a college that had recently closed, Saint Theresa's. Located about a mile and a half from WSU, most students needed to take a bus to get to it. My teacher's last name was Harrison. He was a fifty-something whose laid-back demeanor I grew to enjoy.

I also sat near the door for this class, but since the door was located closest to the front, I actually sat in the first row. Not typical for me, but I guess that door represented freedom and I wanted to be as close to it as possible. There was a girl who sat near me and who I helped explain from time to time what she had missed; she, for some reason, couldn't make every class.

The first assignment Harrison gave us was to write a biography of our lives. Since we were dealing with history, he figured that we should get an idea of how our own lives represent history in the making. Here is what I wrote:

"Thomas D--- was born on November --, 197-. His father was in the Air Force at the time and was stationed on the island of Crete located on the Mediterranean. His mother also lived there on Crete with her husband. Because of certain regulations and preferences, Tom's father and mother were to have their child in Wiesbaden, Germany. And so, on the ---- day of the eleventh month of 197-, their first son was born.

One and a half years later, they would have a second child, a daughter, borne to them. She was also given Wiesbaden, Germany to be her birthplace.

After having served approximately four years in the Air Force, the family packed up and returned to America. The two children had never been to America. All their life had been spent on a small island in Europe. They took a plane and returned to Winona, Minnesota.

The group lived in several apartments in and around Winona. Around 1975, they moved into their first home and they had two more sons. Tom's father was now a seasoned accountant and the family was thriving.

In 1978, looking for a larger home, the family headed elsewhere to live. They moved to Rollingstone, population 528, located seven miles from Winona. There their fifth and final child, a son, would be born, the last three children being delivered at Winona's Community Memorial Hospital.

The years dragged on. The father worked hard. The mother cared for the children. The children loved their semi-country, semi-city environment. Tom's family was perfect. To try and better one's life then would have been impossible. They had great friends, hot summers, cool winters, and electrical nights.

And then, it collapsed. The change was as swift as throwing away the day's trash. It was over. And any shades of happiness were a brilliant memory still shining a million miles away. It was there that love died, never to return. It was the setting of the sun, the end of a millennium.

The next few years went by quietly, mercifully and the divorce became a reality and its purpose, life's purpose, faded like a shooting star swallowed by the night.

Today, the family still lives. Separate, yet still together somehow, as if the brilliance of those former years will never pass away from the hearts and minds of those who lived it so many years and years ago.

The family's first son, Tom, still lives, but he stands apart, haunted, perhaps, by knowledge few others can ever share. He is still not alone."

Scanners

2011-04-15T17:24:00.002-05:00

I was at Target a few days ago looking for birthday presents for a friend when I stumbled upon a Lexmark printer/copier/scanner for $45.oo (it had been marked down 30%). After some careful thought (our printer had had it), I opted to purchase it. Before I even tried the printer, I gave the scanner a test run and boy, am I impressed. Being able to post pictures from the pre-digital era is a Godsend. Here are some of the ones I've posted to my Facebook account.

This was taken in July of 1976 on our way to Yellowstone Park in Wyoming. The girl to my left was part of another family that we were traveling with:

The following pic was taken at the top of Sugar Loaf mountain in 1989; note the Members Only jacket that I'm rocking:

This is an outtake from my wife-to-be and mine's engagement photos:

The below pic was taken almost exactly 11 years ago at my workplace. As you can see by my screensaver, I was eagerly awaiting the release of "Scream 3". I'm planning to go to Part 4 in the next few days.

The Girls

2011-04-10T09:00:00.001-05:00

After having five children, my parents divorced in 1984. Thankfully, they were able to find replacement marriage partners within the next couple of years. My mom met her husband-to-be while working at the switchboard for a company called Fiberite; he was employed as a salesman there.

At first, I didn't like the idea of having a stepdad, but there were a number of perks. He made plenty of money, so took my mom and me to Disneyland in 1986. They convinced me to get in line with them for Space Mountain. I was coaster-phobic at that time, but they made it sound like it wouldn't be that bad. I kept inquiring about all the warnings that had been posted in the queue. They reassured me that things would be fine. I wasn't convinced, so turned around and told them I'd meet them on the other side.

The highlight for me was seeing Michael Jackson's 3-D movie, "Captain Eo".

He hadn't released an album since '82's "Thriller", so being able to hear new music from him was extremely welcome.

It was during this California vacation that I first got the inkling that my mother was up for having another child. Her last had been born in 1978. In '86, she was 36 years old. It should be noted that I was the only sibling living with my mom. One afternoon, during that trip, while I sat in the backseat, my stepdad touched my mom's belly and made some kind of comment insinuating that he sought to create a baby with her. My mom shushed him a bit, but I'd heard. I should also mention that he was 19 years older than my mom. My dad wound up marrying a woman who was more than 20 years older than him.

I didn't hear any more baby talk for a number of months and gradually forgot about it. In the late summer of '87, however, they announced that she was with child. I wasn't sure how to feel. At the age of 16, I was soon to have a half-sibling, one I would be living with until I graduated high school. My younger siblings were excited and seemed to prefer a girl as my mom already had had four boys and just one girl.

One afternoon, Mom and my stepfather came back from her clinic appointment with an additional announcement. My siblings were present for this as well. They said they were having twins. Twin girls! My eyes widened. Twins ran in the family as one of my mom's sisters had had twin boys in the early 80's.

Now, there was no way that Fiberite's top company salesman was gonna raise twin girls in the apartment we were living at, so plans were made for a house to be built in a new subdivision on the edge of town. It was the biggest house I'd ever live in. It had seven bedrooms and three bathrooms. The extra bedrooms were for when my younger siblings stayed at the house. The hope was that one day one or more of them might choose to live there. We were asked what color we'd like our walls to be (I chose sky blue) as well as if we wanted a conventional bed or a waterbed (all three of my brothers chose waterbeds).

I didn't show much interest in wanting to check the house out until it was built, kinda like the groom shouldn't see the bride before the wedding. One great aspect of having such a big house is that the girls' bedroom would be on the second floor while mine would be in the basement (two floors down). That would be a good sound cushion, I thought.

The girls' due date was awfully close to February 29, 1988 (Leap Day). What a thing it would be if they were born on the 29th, only truly being able to celebrate their birthday every four years. We moved into the new house just a few days before the girls were born. They wound up coming to be on March 1st.

I saw them for the first time a couple days later. I asked my stepdad, "Is it OK to call them the Minnesota Twins?" (a nod to the Minnesota Twins winning the World Series five months prior).

I enjoyed having them around. It was nice to have younguns to coddle and laugh with. It was certainly a blessing that they had been born twins as only children can miss out on a lot. One day, I looked down at one of the girls and saw her laughing at something that appeared to be behind me. Most would say that she was laughing at nothing, but I believe babies can sometimes see things we can't. Things that they forget about by the time they're four or five. Perhaps if we could remember those things we saw as an infant, we'd be more assured that there is more out there than what is typically discerned.

When they were about two years old, I took the girls downstairs with the candy they'd collected for Halloween two days prior. They sat on the floor with their plastic jack-o-lanterns and began to chow down on the fun size chocolates and Smarties. I probably should've stopped them at some point, but didn't think to do so. My mom came down a few minutes later and said, "What are you girls doing?" and took the candy away. About ten minutes later, now upstairs, one of them said, "Mommy. My tummy hurts." My mom responded, "Well, I wonder why..."

Saturday Matinee

2011-04-04T10:42:00.003-05:00

Browsing through my Entertainment Weekly on Friday, I was surprised to see that a new horror movie called "Insidious" was given a rating of A-. The commercials made it appear to be another one of those jump-cut fests that is only scary because of the loud noises that accompany various reveals. This one appeared to be a cut above. I went to Rotten Tomatoes where more than 50% of the reviews were positive. Being that some of my favorite films are PG-13 spookfests ("The Others", "The Ring", "The Orphanage"), I decided that I wanted to check this one out.

I woke up at around 9am on Saturday and told my wife that I planned to see Adam Sandler's new movie followed by "Insidious". She had already seen the Sandman's movie, but said it'd be OK to see it again. We arrived at the theatre and were told that there was no early showing of "Just Go With It", that a kid's movie was playing instead. I informed them that their website said that the Sandler movie was playing at the given time. They said that it was corporate which displayed the movie times and they never knew ahead of time which show was going to be replaced by the kid's movie. I gave a bit of lip, but not too much as I actually wanted to see "Insidious" more.

We got a seat way in the back as we awaited the starting of the show. My girl had a small popcorn to pass the time. As the credits rolled, a number of teenagers were yapping, so I told my girl I'd prefer to sit near the front, less distractions, you see. Usually the first 20 minutes of a scary movie are a bit boring as this time is used to establish characters, not to scare the audience. It's kinda like a first date in that there's a lot of conversation, but no touching quite yet. This film was no different.

Directed by the man who did the original "Saw", I admired some of the small touches he'd made. In an early scene, the husband puts some anti-wrinkle cream on his forehead before going to bed. Before long, the scares started coming. One clever scene involved a baby monitor. Later, a couple ghost hunters are brought in. They delivered a much needed dose of levity.

Though not the scariest thing I'd ever seen (that would be me looking at myself naked in the mirror), I was reminded again that movies need not have a lot of gore to be effective in getting one's heart racing. Almost as cool is that the film was made for a paltry one million dollars. I don't usually get scared when going to bed on the night that I've seen a horror film, but did get a bit uneasy before nodding off on Saturday, thinking about the old lady from the movie.

Face The Music

2011-03-28T11:52:00.004-05:00

In the 8th grade, the highlight of my week was spending the weekend at my mother's. I would watch NBC's "Friday Night Videos" and based on that, make a tentative decision on what cassette I'd be buying the following day. I'd get up early Saturday morning, take a shower, and tell my mom that I was off to the mall.

It was about a two-mile walk to the shopping center. My strategy was to go on streets that were less traveled; I enjoyed the relative quiet of these side streets. The second half of the walk was adjacent to one of Winona's lakes. It got mighty cold there in the wintertime. I sometimes felt like Bryan Adams in the "Run To You" video.

Once I hit the mall, all was well. I'd head for Face The Music and take a look at the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart before browsing through the latest cassettes. The music store obviously played music while I was there, but it generally wasn't from works that I was interested in getting. There was one time, however, when they played New Edition's new one.

Many times, getting a recording was a crap shoot as there was no way of knowing if the songs on it, other than the hits, were any good. I once asked myself, which was better, excitedly walking to the mall wondering which of the dozens of works that were available that I'd purchase or the walk home, when I had picked one out and would be able to listen to it once I got back. I decided that the walk home was superior.

One winter afternoon, I strolled to my mom's with Tina Turner's "Private Dancer" in my pocket; "Better Be Good To Me" is probably my favorite track from it. This tradition continued for a number of years. On one sunny 1986 day, I bought both Madonna's "True Blue" and Wham's "Music From The Edge of Heaven".

I mentioned in my last post that I had been watching the BBC miniseries "Electric Dreams" (about a contemporary family who live without modern-day devices).

In the 70's episode, the 12-year old said that he was impressed with records, that it was nice to have something physical to look at and read while one is listening to the music. He mentioned that this isn't the case when one downloads music by computer. I feel the same, though am more than fine with CD's. The main positive of buying a compact disc is being able to play it in the car. I know that it's possible to listen to downloaded music in one's vehicle, but am not quite ready to make that jump.

Last Tuesday, for the first time in quite a while, I bought a CD on its release date: Duran Duran's "All You Need Is Now". I had been listening to a number of tracks from it on YouTube over the past couple months, and when I saw that it was being released with several more songs on it on March 22nd, I knew I wanted to buy it. I never thought as a teenager in the 80's that I'd still be buying new music by the band in my forties.

Rewind

2011-03-24T09:26:00.007-05:00

While watching the BBC documentary "Electric Dreams" (it's about a family that lives without 21st-century devices for a month), I was reminded of the first time I was introduced to various 20th-century gadgets. In 1982, thinking that it would be something that I'd enjoy being creative with, my mother bought me a tape recorder.

I had went to bed while she was out buying it, but woke up the next morning eager to try it out. I was the first one up as I sat in front of the living room heating vent to keep myself warm as I introduced myself to the device; "Hello, tape recorder, we're going to make some beautiful music together". Along with the recorder itself, my mom had also bought a blank cassette. It was a 90-minute tape made by TDK. She had been told by her sister that 120 minute tapes break relatively easy because of their extra-long size.

I tried to put what I thought was the tape into the recorder, but it was too big. I realized, after a minute or two, that the cassette was still in its case. I opened it up and put the tape inside. The first thing I recorded was me saying, "Testing...1...2...3... Testing ...1...2...3". I played it back and, like many, didn't really believe that the way I sounded on the tape was how I came off in real life. That first day, I recorded a number of TV commercials (a Qbert ad, for one) as well as my brothers and sister talking a bit.

The device hit its full potential in the summer of '83 when I recorded an adaptation of the blockbuster movie "Return of the Jedi" with my siblings. As we headed into the second half of that recording, I quizzed my younger brother on Star Wars minutiae:

Twentieth Century Boy

2011-03-18T10:40:00.001-05:00

Thinking about the last post I made (regarding some of the things I experienced in the late 90's), I pondered on how grand it would be if I were able to talk to my 1997-era self, to be able to have a conversation with him, to ask for his thoughts on life and how they compare to my own in 2011.

That man is more overweight than I am, but has less gray hairs.

He likes to shave every other day, something I continue to do. He's only had sex for a few years and just got his drivers' license in the summer of '95. He's just read what he considers to be the best book ever: "Conversations With God" and is sky-high on the wisdom it has imparted to him. He's single, but looks to be getting married the following summer.

Does he imagine what life at 40 is going to be like? Would he shudder knowing that in five years, he'll have kidney stones, that having kids won't be in the cards? He would be fairly self-assured, though he has some interesting habits. When he's in his car and sees the person in front of him throw a cigarette out the window, he'll honk at them as if to say, "What the hell do you think you're doing, littering the roads of this beautiful town?"

He's been a big fan of country music since 1992 when he was first exposed to a show called VH1 Country, an hourlong program that showed past and present country videos. He felt so at home with the genre that he believed it would always be his favorite. Little does he know that in a few years, he'll be buying a number of 80's pop CD's. He now has well over a hundred such discs. He'll work a variety of different jobs in the 2000's, mostly consisting of telephone work.

I wouldn't tell him these things, of course. I'd just like to visit with him for a few hours in a place where he'd be most comfortable, perhaps at one of his favorite restaurants, Wendy's or Taco John's. Maybe we could hit one of the old-school theatres that existed back then, years before stadium-seating came to town. I'm sure he'd be glad to know that two films will rock his world before the end of the decade ("Titanic" and "American Beauty"). I wouldn't wish to allude to the Star Wars prequel trilogy being a bit of a disappointment or that the dog his fiancee' recently picked up wouldn't make it to 2001.

We could discuss favorite childhood memories, various anti-social things we'd done, and women we wished we'd fucked. When it came time to part, I would tell him to enjoy being young, to strive to be kind to all those he encountered (even those who are smokers), and to consider writing his thoughts into a journal so that I might post them one day.

What's Park Spelled Backwards?

2011-03-15T11:54:00.002-05:00

The summer of 1997 was my first in Rochester, a city of 70,000, and I struggled to find things to do when I wasn't working at Premiere Video. One sunny afternoon, I decided to take a stroll on one of the many bike trails that the town had to offer. Before starting, I took a look at the map that had been posted near the trail and chose to take the path that would lead me back to my car.

I must've took a wrong turn as I kept walking and walking, not feeling I was getting any closer to my vehicle. I finally decided to get off the trail and into the residential neighborhoods where, after some time, I was able to piece together how to get back to my point of origin. One good side to the encounter was that I certainly got my exercise for the day.

On a number of occasions, when I needed to get away from my wife-to-be, I drove to a hillside that was located behind a retail establishment called ShopKo. It was steep going at first, like the side of a cliff, but once up there, I got a good view of the area and was able to chill out a bit.

On one evening, I went to a park located at the edge of town. The sun had recently set as I parked my car. Within seconds, some guy parked right next to me, unnecessary I thought, as there were several other parking spots to be found. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I pulled out and drove about ten parking places to the right. As I turned in, another man parked next to me. Frustrated at not being able to be left alone, I returned home. I found out later that the park was a gay pickup spot.

The place I wound up spending most of my time outdoors was Silver Lake.

Thirty-two minutes was how long it typically took to circle the body of water. Most of the time, I brought my Walkman along to listen to as I walked. When Tori Amos' new CD came out in the fall of 2001, the first time I listened to it was walking around the lake.

One early evening, as I began my walk, I felt a bowel movement coming on, so hurried a bit and headed to a McDonalds that was located just adjacent to the park. Sometimes, at the end of my walk, I would celebrate by going on the swings that were next to the lodge. One time, I smiled blissedly while doing this and listening to Clint Black's Christmas album. I never swung too long as it would make me dizzy after a time.

Sometimes I'd walk with my friend, Art, but it could get tiring as he would whistle at virtually every woman who passed by. One day, halfway around the trail, we were walking together and I had to urinate badly. I saw a huge pine tree coming up and told him I was going to relieve myself there. I looked around and didn't see anyone else nearby. As I situated myself beneath the tree, Art said I wasn't completely obscured, but went for it, anyway. Feeling much better, we continued on our way.

To relieve some of the boredom from walking around the same ol' lake, I had a bit of fun from time to time. I had a ballcap that I would put on not forward or backward, but sideways. I also had some really far-out glasses that I'd put on, the kind that Jesse Ventura used to wear when he was a wrestler.

I was basically daring other walkers to laugh at me and looked closely at people's reactions as I got closer and passed them by.

A Little Bit of Ecstacy

2011-03-12T13:26:00.002-06:00

Wednesday afternoon, I brought the latest issue of the local newspaper into my workplace; it's delivered there during the week. Affixed to the front of it was a sticker that said Great Clips was having their Great Haircut Sale for $6.99. This was perfect timing as I was overdue to get my mane trimmed.

So it was that yesterday afternoon, I headed to their outlet near Wal-Mart and said that I was there to "participate in the Great Haircut Sale". The brunette at the counter smiled and said I could be seen by her right away. We exchanged pleasantries as I told her that I wanted the usual: a number two blade on the sides and back blended in with the top.

As she got started, I noticed an older gentleman getting his hair cut. I was a bit transfixed as I noticed how intently he looked at himself as this was being done. When I'm having a cut, I'll look at anything other than my own face. I'll look at the floor, at the utensils that are on the stylist's stand, at the signage placed there.

I hesitate to say that people who stare at themselves like this man did are vain. They're obviously comfortable with what's in front of them. I suppose some feel that if they don't pay extreme attention to what's being done to their hair, they could miss the moment when the stylist messes it up and they're taken to the point of no return. They're on high alert like the main character from "Hurt Locker", knowing that the next moment might portend their doom.

One big plus of a haircut is being physically touched by an attractive member of the opposite sex. Not that my wife isn't good-looking, but she's been touching me for more than a dozen years. During the haircut, I was thinking, "This feels so good, I almost don't mind if she cuts off more than I want her to" (I was semi-uncomfortable the last time I got a haircut as I knew my wife was watching closely).

A few minutes later, she sent me off and I was in a great mood as I headed to Wal-Mart to pick up some groceries.

Two Weeks of (Mostly) Bliss

2011-03-06T12:52:00.003-06:00

Twelve days ago, my SexyGirl took a plane to sunny Las Vegas to spend some time with her parents. Here is what she looks like six months after bariatric surgery:

I knew I was going to miss her, but looked forward to having some "T" time. The first morning I woke up without her by my side, I was startled and soothed by the silence. I've spent the mornings sleeping in, going on the computer for a time, and enjoying the TV not being on during the day.

Before she left, she asked me to be sure that the house didn't get too dirty. Her comment convinced me that she'd come home to a great surprise. Each day last week, I spent an hour or two doing some de-cluttering. Her closet floor had a bunch of clothes and crap all over it, so it was greatly rewarding to remove it as I listened to some of my favorite music. Clothes that were too big for her, I put into storage in the basement. Downstairs, there were boxes scattered everywhere. As I listened to the cassette of Midnight Star's "Planetary Invasion", I put as many boxes as I could underneath the stairs.

One evening, I cleaned out some of the paperwork that had accumulated in one of our kitchen drawers. As I took the drawer out and swept the dust into the wastebasket, I lost grip of it and it fell on my big toe. Youch! It still hurts when I bend it.

When she calls me up each night and asks what I've been up to, I have to omit most of the cleaning I've done in order to ensure the surprise. On one call, she said that she might want to have some cleaning ladies come out as a late birthday present. Maids do a good job of cleaning, but they can't sort through drawers and decide what can and can't be tossed.

I've kept myself relatively busy throughout. Last Sunday, I went to the Hindu temple. It was boring in some parts, but got more interesting when I asked the group if it was better to have an easy life or a hard one. One of the more knowledgeable Hindus said that it's better to have a harder life as one is more apt to turn to a higher power when there is struggle. Not much spiritual growth is typically accomplished when one has it easy. My depression of many years ago attests to this.

I had my monthly massage a couple days ago. Costing just $55 for 90 minutes and located a mere seven blocks from my home, it's an appointment I always look forward to. I'm sometimes caught between wanting to be quiet as she does her work and catching up on what's been going on with her; we worked together in the early '00s. My love also had a massage last week. She's had about four of them in her life and every time, they've been in Sin City with her parents.

She's seen three movies while out there, easily beating me in movie attendance. There've been a couple occasions when I've thought about going, but felt I would be better served by staying home and watching stuff on the DVR. One of my favorites is the late 70's game show "Card Sharks". I enjoyed it as a child and it's great to be able to watch it again.

I went to a pizza place on Friday night with a friend and her daughter and the place was packed. There was a boy of about 12 who kept passing by our table as he went to play video games. With a short blonde haircut and a ballcap on, I pretended that I wanted to say something every time he passed. On one pass, he actually stopped, so I said what I'd been thinking, "You know who you look like?" He said, "Who?" I replied, "Justin Bieber". He said, "Thanks".

I also had some fun yesterday at the grocery store. There was an early-20 something who was shopping and you could plainly see his underwear underneath his pants as he walked the aisles. This irritated me a bit, so I decided to make light of it. I went up to the guy he was shopping with and said, "Your friend's underwear are hot". The man laughed as I headed to the check-out.

A Tempting Offer

2011-02-28T12:06:00.004-06:00

After finding out about the demise of my mother's marriage, one of my brothers floated an idea past her by email. He said that if she were to rejoin the Jehovah's Witnesses, the religion he's been enmeshed in for his entire life and the one that she left in 1984, he would allow her to visit him and their two children. You see, once a member leaves, others still in the organization are not allowed to socialize with them. Of course, my mother got around this in the 80's and 90's as her Witness kids were still young and not yet baptized into the faith. Now, with this particular brother having a position of power within the religion, he wouldn't dare risk getting in trouble by hanging out with his mom.

This got me to wondering if the Witnesses are a cult.

I suspected so, but Googled it this morning for confirmation and, indeed, there are quite a few ways in which the religion falls in line with a standard cult. Here are some examples:

"Cult leaders will tell you you can only be "saved" (or can only be successful) in their organization alone. No other organization has the truth, all others miss the mark.

Cult leadership is feared. To disagree with leadership is the same as disagreeing with God. The cult leaders will claim to have direct authority from God to control almost all aspects of your life.

Cults also try to cut you off from your friends and family because they hate others being able to influence you. A mind control cult will seek to maneuver your life so as to maximize your contact with cult members and minimize your contact with people outside the group, especially those who oppose your involvement.

Those who control the information control the person. In a mind control cult any information from outside the cult is considered evil, especially if it is opposing the cult. Members are told not to read it or believe it. Only information supplied by the cult is true.

Mind control cults keep their members so busy with meetings and activities that they become too busy and too tired to think about their involvement.

In a mind control cult like in Nazi Germany or Communist Russia, you must be careful of what you say and do; "The walls have ears". Everyone is encouraged to watch out for "struggling" brothers and sisters and report what they see to leadership. Often information given in deepest confidence is automatically reported to leadership."

My mother is in the midst of composing an answer to her youngest son. I'm sure the idea of being able to see him and two of her grandchildren is tempting, but it would be at the cost of her present beliefs. Of course, she would actually be like many of the Witnesses, not believing much of what is said at their meetings, but realizing that leaving the organization and the shunning that would ensue would be too great a thing to bear.

My Greatest Strength

2011-02-21T12:28:00.004-06:00

In early November of 2007, I celebrated my 37th birthday at TGIFriday's with my wife, mother, and her new boyfriend. It was a grand occasion sullied only by one of the gifts that I was given by my mother and her man: Joel Osteen's best-seller "Become A Better You".

For those who aren't familiar with the work, it uses Christian scripture as a basis for telling one how to live a better life. I would've loved to have seen my face when I received it. I'm not against self-help books, but one that relies primarily on the Bible misses out on a good deal of other great information that's out there. My mother had written some kind of message on the first page of the tome; the page that's typically blank. Something along the lines of "All the best, hope this book is a help to you". I smiled, but wished they had spent the money on something else.

In most cases, I would go to Barnes & Noble and return the book; my experience working there in the late 90's alerted me to the fact that they happily accept exchanges for something else even if one doesn't have a receipt. The note that my mom had posted in the book put a dent in those plans, however. It was as if she was ensuring that I couldn't return it. I wasn't about to give up, though. I carefully tore that first page out and decided I would try returning it. The cashier at B&N looked at the book for a few seconds to make sure there was no obvious damage before giving me a credit on it. Unlike the minutes after I received it, I could now smile genuinely at the thought of getting exactly what I wanted.

Not too long after, the office I was working for provided all its employees with a copy of another runaway best-seller, this one called "Strengths Finder".

Its purpose was to find an employee's strengths and then tell them how to make the most of them. My boss said we would eventually get around to utilizing it, but months went by without a mention of it. I decided that I would just return the thing and wound up exchanging it for Britney Spears' new one, "Blackout"; great disc, one of my favorite tracks on it is called "Get Naked".

Wouldn't you know it, a few weeks later, we were told that it was time to do the exercises that were in the book. They could actually be done online which was a relief to me, but not so much when I went to the site because it asked for the specific identification code that was printed in each book. It looked like I'd have to buy the book back, but damn if I wasn't gonna try to find a way around it.

I went with my high-school friend to Barnes & Noble in LaCrosse one weekend and took a look at the copies they had of Strengths Finder. I noticed that the ID codes for each book were different, but realized that if I copied down one of the codes and then went onto a computer and used it, I might be able to get around having to purchase the best-seller. I got a piece of scratch paper from my friend and wrote down the digits with a smile on my face. A couple days later at work, I headed to the site, entered the code, did the exercises, and printed it all out. A group of us went over the results shortly thereafter. It turns out that my greatest strength is not letting books sit around that aren't going to be read.

July 23rd, 2010

2011-02-17T18:54:00.002-06:00

That's the day I received Colin Firth's highly acclaimed 2009 film "A Single Man" from Netflix. Though it was number one on my Netflix queue (that's the reason they sent it, of course), I never could find the 100 minutes to sit and view it. And this from a guy who rarely works more than twenty hours a week. No, on evenings when I'm watching TV, it's typically to get caught up on what's been taped on the DVR.

It took "A Single Man" being on that DVR for me to finally watch it. You see, I saw that it was playing on Showtime a few days ago and knowing that it would be presented in HD, as opposed to standard def (which is the type of DVD player I have), thought that might be just the thing I'd need to finally catch it. This turned out the be the case as the day before yesterday, I watched the film with my life partner.

The movie, which takes place in 1962, is about a man whose partner of sixteen years has died in a car accident. For months afterward, the hardest part of his day is just getting out of bed. Though he has a beautiful house, a job as a college professor, and is surrounded by friends who adore him, life is no longer worth living. The movie spends twenty-four hours with him, a day that will wind up being the most pivotal of his life.

I've expressed before how magical it is to sit down and watch a film and then be floored, feeling things that you never expected to, going to work the next day and feeling blessed that you were witness to such a work of heart. "A Single Man" was just this to me and in 9 times out of 10, the movies I fall hardest for are the ones that have fantastic endings ("Titanic" and "American Beauty" being two examples). As the credits rolled, my wife asked what grade I'd give it. I said, "An A". She said she felt the same.

I'm going to be keeping the DVD a little bit longer now so that I can watch "The Making of" and listen to the movie's commentary. If I'd known that the film was going to resonate so strongly with me, I'd have watched it months ago. But such is life sometimes, when the very thing that will bring you incredible happiness is right under your nose, there all the time, just waiting to be experienced.

Fort Myers

2011-02-14T14:14:00.005-06:00

In March of 1993, my stepdad took me to Florida; it was my first visit to the Sunshine State. If you'd like to read an account of my experiences on that first day, written just weeks after it occurred, click here.

On the third day, we drove from West Palm Beach to Fort Myers, Florida. It was the only chance I got to spend a significant amount of time on the roads of Florida. The number of orange groves we passed made it patently obvious that we were down south. We listened to a good deal of country music as that was what I was into at the time and he didn't mind it too much. When Radney Foster's hit, "Nobody Wins" came on, he pontificated on how that was certainly the case when it came to marriages breaking up, as his and my mother's was. Well, I thought, if one of the parties wasn't happy in the relationship, leaving it could be construed as a win of sorts.

In the early afternoon, we arrived at our destination, Hammond Stadium, the spring training home for the Minnesota Twins.

The complex was beautiful and though the game would be split-squad, meaning only half the team would be playing, being able to see my heroes up close and outdoors was sure to be a treat. We headed to our seats which were about eight rows up along the first base line. I was disappointed that Kirby Puckett, the most popular Twin, wasn't in the lineup, but a relatively new guy named Chuck Knoblach was there. I actually had a poster on him on my apartment wall that had him jumping in the air at second base to throw someone out at first called "New Kid on the Blauch". I still have this baseball card of him in the basement:

There were some clouds in the sky as the game got underway, but they moved on. I took a number of pictures during the early innings, including one of the moment that a hitter made contact with a ball. I ended up having it converted into an 8 x 10 so that I could look at it from time to time in my apartment and remember that lovely March afternoon.

Later, I purchased a Minnesota Twins Fort Myers T-shirt that had pictures of alligators on it. I wore it with pride that summer, that summer when I would gain so many friends, but my happiness would rapidly erode. I was feeling great that day, however, breathing in the warm air. I don't believe the Twins won, but it didn't matter. This was merely spring training, a time for the players to get back into shape.

When the game ended, I encouraged my stepdad to sit outside the stadium for a time so that I could see some of the players leaving in their street clothes. I got a nice little thrill seeing Knoblauch driving off the grounds in a nice car with a smile on his face. We headed off for a bite and then to Orlando, where I would have my first bite of Universal Studios Florida.

Recent Facebook Status Updates

2011-02-12T16:22:00.004-06:00

For those who aren't friends with me on Facebook, here are some of the postings I've made over the past few months:

There are few pleasures greater than putting on a pair of underwear that have just come out of the dryer.

"This is hard" - comment made by my wife two minutes into her first ShakeWeight workout

I was listening to a Christmas song yesterday and one of the lyrics was that Jesus's death was much less joyous than his birth. I'm like, "Whose isn't?"

Some time ago, when I was checking out at Target, the cashier asked if I'd be interested in signing up for one of their credit cards; they're bright red. I said I would if I could get it in purple. She said they weren't available like that, which is great as I wasn't interested in it, anyway.

I'll sometimes use my fingers for counting at work, but will only move the very tips of them so my colleagues won't realize what I'm doing.

The commercials for Proactiv almost make me wish I had acne. What else could compel such striking Before and After pics?

The expiration date on my bottle of Aquafina is December 21, 2012. They obviously got the memo that no one will be drinking the stuff the day after.

Went to Subway two days ago to get a six-inch before work. The guy working asked if I'd like a footlong, that it would be just a little bit more to get one. I told him, "No, I get intimidated by anything that's a foot long".

Horticulture

2011-02-09T11:12:00.000-06:00

Though never agrarian in any sense, I felt it would do me some good to take a class in Horticulture in 11th grade. All Ag classes were taught in an annex of the Senior High building which had a greenhouse attached to it. I showed up the first day and was introduced to our teacher, a nice-looking lady who appeared to be in her early 50's. Her name was Mrs. Raddatz and though her hair was a bit grey, I quickly grew to like her. Instead of individual desks, our classroom had eight long tables; two people could be seated at each one. As was typical of me in those days, I chose a place in the back row. I wound up having my own table as we had a small class, about seven people.

I deflated a bit on that first day when the teacher told us that every Monday we would be required to water the plants placed high in the concourse. I didn't like the idea of the students sitting in the concourse (they were in study hall) seeing me with a watering device. They might think I was a femme. I always first sought to water the plants that were the furthest from the study hall kids. On occasion, I got stuck doing the ones closest. I shouldn't have worried, though. There was a guy who came off as much tougher than me named Butch who didn't seem to mind the task.

Butch ultimately come off as too masculine, however. He'd frequently pick on a guy who sat at the table behind him. His name was Matt and he dressed, well, fabulously. It was obvious he was gay, but I had no problem with his gentle soul. When Butch derided him, Matt typically ignored it.

One great aspect of the class was being able to get up and walk around the greenhouse.

That kind of hands-on thing wasn't typical of other high school classes. One morning, as class was about to start, the teacher gave me a note that said I was to report to the administrative offices. It had to do with a recent appointment I'd had with the counselor.

You see, the teacher I had for my Video class had noticed that while other students spent lots of time talking to their peers during downtimes, I was content to just sit in my seat. He thought there might be something wrong with me being a loner, so requested that Mr. Timm see me. I talked to Timm one afternoon and he said that there was nothing wrong with being on the quiet side, that he had the tendency to be this way himself, that the world would be much too rowdy if everyone had an outgoing personality. Timm made me feel that I was just fine being who I was. I never went up to Opprecht, the Video teacher and confronted him on what he'd done. Hell, that'd be going against my MO.

One other note about the Video class: there was a Jehovah's Witness girl named Jina who was in a more advanced class in which students were required to lip-sync to a favorite song of theirs. Now, for this to make sense, you have to realize that Witnesses believe that they will live forever in paradise on Earth. The song she chose was Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven on Earth". Ridiculously appropriate, I thought. I used to fantasize about what song I would sing if I took the class. It would mostly likely be a Beatles one as I was big on them back then.

Anyway, someone in the admin offices apparently wanted to go over one more thing in regards to the issue, but I didn't want to miss a minute of the Hort class (I was really concerned about getting good grades at that time), so ignored the request and watched one of those filmstrips that were so prevalent in 80's high schools.

One afternoon, as we broke for the greenhouse, a classmate named Ben was trying to get through, but a girl named LeJeanna was blocking his way. After a beat, he said, "Move out of the way or I'll boof you". I just saw her working at ShopKo last week and couldn't help but think of that incident when I saw her.

A number of years later, while attending college, I was watching Jenny Jones. A man came onto the stage whose name was Mattress Fever. He looked familiar, so I stepped close to the screen. Oh my god, it was Matt from the Horticulture class. He had apparently changed his name. We all watch talk shows from time to time, but never expect to see anyone we know on them. I was glad to see that he was doing well and still dressing fabulously. Butch, I'm sure, would have a different reaction, but there are few things grander than being exactly who you are.

Here's Something to Chew On

2011-01-30T17:52:00.000-06:00

Yesterday afternoon around 5pm, I sat Indian-style on the bathroom floor while reading the latest issue of TIME magazine as I ate a Smart Ones Fajita Chicken wood-fired pizza. The article that I was browsing during said meal was about the troubles that Arizona is currently experiencing, problems like illegal immigration, an education system that is in the bottom ten of the fifty states, and the site of a shooting that made headlines for a number of weeks earlier this year.

About halfway through my meal, as I bit into another portion, I felt something hard. Weird, I thought. I chewed one more time and still felt something hard in my mouth; that's what she said. I spit the portion out and saw nothing but chewed-up food, so threw it into the toilet (just inches from my face) and flushed. I finished the pizza and began using my tongue to remove the debris that had accumulated over the meal. Just then, I felt something weird on the upper left-side of my mouth. Either an extra-large piece of debris or....no, it couldn't be.

I looked in the mirror and saw that a piece of my tooth was missing; the filling was now fully exposed and I was reminded of the movie "Terminator", feeling a bit more machine now than I was five minutes before. Before telling my wife, I headed onto the internet to find out what my options were, if tooth fairies still come if one inadvertently flushes a molar down the toilet.

268 Lafayette

2011-01-27T12:56:00.001-06:00

During 10th and 11th grade, I lived with my mother and stepdad in a 3-bedroom apartment. It was actually part of a very large house in downtown Winona. From there, it was a mere 2-block walk to Midtown Foods where we went to rent videos. Midtown was cool in that me or any of my siblings could go there on our own and pick a movie or two out. We merely had to sign the rental contract. Some of the movies they rented which I had no interest in were "Top Gun" and "The Secret of My Success".

Five blocks further, there was another place called Video Hits which had a greater selection, but wound up being shut down because they were renting out porn. There were two consecutive doorways to get to that section. The first led to science fiction, which I frequented, and a few steps past that was the XXX section. Some might've saw me heading to sci-fi and think I was going to check out porn, but it was merely to see what they had for Star Wars-type films; "Star Whores" would have to wait.

A number of years earlier, my mother took us boys to a barbershop called Farrell's. Playboy magazines were liberally strewn throughout the shop. Though curious, I never picked up an issue while my much younger brother, Matt, had no such hesitations.

A couple of times, getting home from school, I noticed that my mom had locked the front door. She was supposed to have left it unlocked when she left home after eating lunch. Rather than wait around, I headed to the side of the house where my bedroom was located and was able to finagle the window open and sneak in that way.

My four younger siblings visited on the weekends while I had the week to myself. My bedroom was sweet in that the space under the door was extra wide on one corner. It allowed me, when I laid on the floor, to see everyone that was sitting on the living room couch watching TV. One night in October of 1987, I watched as they celebrated the Minnesota Twins' victory in Game One of the World Series. I was really into the Beatles then and explicitly remember listening to "Within You Without You" laying there one evening. Sometimes the light would shine onto me and Matt would say, "I know you're looking under there".

At the place where he lived, if you got on top of the couch in the TV room, you could see into his bedroom. He liked listening to CD's back then on his hi-tech stereo. He had stuff by Harry Connick, Jr, Joey Lawrence, Eddie Murphy, and a disc that played a Thunderstorm for an hour.

For a number of weeks, my sister came over after school and we watched shows like "Hollywood Squares" and "Double Dare" while she munched on a small bag of Cheetos.

George Michael's "Faith" was extremely popular at the time and my sister was a big fan of it. Who wasn't?

Since I only saw them on the weekend, I liked to have fun with my brothers. On a couple of occasions, when they went to the movies and I elected to stay home, I put one of their 10-inch action-figure wrestlers on the top of the door that led into our living room.

The first person who walked in would get a surprise. I staked out a spot to watch in the kitchen as magic time approached. One time, my mom came in first. Yeesh! But on another, I got my brother, Matt. He response was swift. He went straight into my bedroom and broke my Luke Skywalker Dagobah glass. As he came back out into the living room, I said, "You're gonna have to pay for that".

I especially enjoyed it when my mother and stepdad would go out of town. They typically left me with five or ten bucks and stocked the fridge with my two favorite foods, Little Debbie Zebra Cakes and Totino's Pizza. It was great having the whole place to myself, not least because it allowed me to watch movies in complete quiet and darkness. A couple of the films I enjoyed during this time were "Silver Bullet" and "Christine". Late at night was when the real magic happened as we had HBO and Showtime; translation: I got to watch soft porn.

Taking It Up the Tailpipe

2011-01-25T19:30:00.001-06:00

I think it’s a bit ridiculous the degree to which some are hung up on gas prices. It’s like they always have to look at what it’s going for in the morning and the first they hear that it may be going up, they rush out to save a few nickels. Can you imagine how different things would be if gas stations didn’t have their prices displayed on huge signs outside, if you had to enter the store to know what it was going for? Why should gas be any different than coffee?

I admit to glancing at the price of petrol once in a while and concede to getting a small amount of satisfaction when I purchased some for 3.45 last week (the price now stands at 3.75). But let’s look closer. I bought 10 gallons of gas, so saved 3.00. That means I have 3 more dollars in my checking account than I did before. Does that make me happier? Not really. I’d rather have no reaction to the increases and just pay what they’re charging. I can take it up the keister as well as anyone (that’s what she said).

Bill Maher said a number of years ago that the price of gas should be at least 5 dollars a gallon (considering the value you get from it as well as its scarcity). I agreed with his sentiments and as gas has steadily increased, I’ve paid it no mind. I do feel bad for those who have less disposable income and who, therefore, suffer more as prices increase. I guess what it comes down to is one can either piss and moan about the oil companies or do something about it (public transport, bicycling, walking, car pool, hybrid, siphon others' gas). Stop playing the victim.

(Composed on September 16, 2008 - First time posted)

Magic

2011-01-19T20:02:00.004-06:00

I was surprised to get a call from my mom the other night that her marriage to my stepdad has faltered. It's mainly a case of one party being too controlling. I don't get wanting to control others. I feel that my will for another is their will for themselves, kind of how I feel God feels about us. Why would you want to constrain those you love? Resentment is sure to build in such cases.

They did quite a number on keeping the extent of their troubles hidden. Other than some strange goings-on on Christmas Eve, I wouldn't have figured their union was in any danger. Interesting how people put a happy face on their lives when it's anything but. Some are the same on Facebook, nothing but positivity. You know they can't be like that in real life and if they are, you married the wrong person.

When I first received word that my parents were contemplating divorce twenty-eight years ago, I was watching Olivia Newton-John's concert special on HBO.

It is forever linked now with that evening. One of my siblings told me what was going on and I went to the source to see if it was true. My dad was sitting on top of my mom in the living room, but this was no sex act. He was asking why she wished to dissolve the partnership.

This happened at almost the exact moment that I was first experiencing puberty. I'd go to my 7th grade classes and get what I liked to call "tenny" (tension) headaches on many a day. My grades went into the toilet and I came to rely more on my grandmother as I began to feel more distant from my parents.

My dad moved out of the house and into an apartment complex. One evening, I went there with my siblings. It was small, but sufficient, I suppose, for a now-single man. I noticed a jar full of quarters on the nightstand. I asked if I could have some. He said that he was saving them for something or another. A moment or two later, when he wasn't looking, I took a couple dollars' worth out of it and said that I was going to head over to the mall; it was located just two blocks away.

The shopping center was mighty quiet on that evening. I headed the length of the mall to my favorite haunt, the Electric Rainbow arcade. Halfway there, I saw a girl who was in one of my classes, Courtney. She was the one who as a 1st grader, I fantasized chose me to play with out of all the boys in our class. She looked fantastic that night, a vision with beautiful blond hair and preppy clothes. She may have gazed at me as we passed each other. I wasn't sure if she even knew who I was.

I set to playing some of my favorite video games: the sitdown version of Turbo, Star Wars, Joust, stuff like that. Playing those games helped me decompress a bit. They gave me peace when that was in very short supply. I left the arcade and just a couple steps later, saw Courtney again, heading in the opposite direction as before.

This time, she smiled and said, "Hi". I said "Hi" back to her and was on cloud nine as I walked past the rest of the stores. I was living in a broken home now, but it needn't be my destiny. Someday in the not-too-distant future, I would have a family of my own and all this heartache would be a thing of the past.

Tracks I listened to while composing this:

Take Good Care Of My Heart - Jermaine Jackson & Whitney Houston
New Girl Now - Honeymoon Suite
I Go Crazy - Paul Davis
How Much I Feel - Ambrosia

Myriads and Myriads of Memories

2011-01-17T14:32:00.001-06:00

Four years ago, I made a number of posts regarding the time I spent in the Jehovah's Witnesses.

They can be found here, here, and here. Thanks to a regression therapist that I've recently started seeing, here are some more memories that have come to light:

The songbook back then had 119 songs. One was sung before the meeting started, another during halftime, and one more at the end. There are three that I remember to this day: The first is the last song in the book: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize. The second is called Myriads and Myriads. I don't know the name of the third, but it was unusual in that it had a bit of a bouncy beat, something unusual compared to the rest of the Witnesses' oeuvre. It's one you wouldn't necessarily mind hearing on the radio. The only lyrics I remember from it were, "If you have such faith accompanied by works, da da da da da da da da".

To this day, I don't understand why they thought it was a good idea to make children sit for two hours during the twice weekly meetings, one hour for a third meeting. Kids have to sit enough during school, but to expect them to do more in the evening hours, for subjects that most likely wouldn't interest them, should almost be considered a form of brain-deadening neglect.

I had a number of games I played to kill time while waiting for the meeting to end. If I was lucky enough to sit on the inside of a row, I counted the number of raised particles on the walls. I imagined that one was a star, another was a galaxy, over here was another galaxy, we lived here, and so on.

I knew Jehovah was on my side whenever I sat next to one of the two windows that looked out on a resident's yard. How grand, I thought it must be, as I looked at a man playing with his dog, to be able to spend a Thursday evening relaxing and unwinding, to be able to wear a T-shirt and jeans as opposed to a suit and tie. I love how the Witnesses' make a big deal about how they're not worldly yet wear clothes that are an unmistakable symbol of the world.

Another lucky break was when my parents couldn't wake up in time to take us to the Sunday meeting. I was as quiet as a mouse if I got up early on Sunday morning so as not to accidentally wake them up. There was no way I was going to try to rouse them. It'd be like knowing that today you were to have a root canal and anything went as far as trying to get out of it. Sometimes they woke up in time to just take us to the second hour which was bittersweet.

Michael Jackson was a member of the Witnesses in the early 80's which was cool in that he was the hottest singer at the time. If he found something compelling about the beliefs, maybe I should, too. These days, Prince is their most famous adherent, something that negatively affected the concert I went to see him perform at in the summer of 2004.

It had been 20 years since Purple Rain had rocked the world and his show that year was an opportunty for us all to go back to those halcyon days. Xcel Energy Center in St Paul was sold out and thousands of fans were pumped to see him perform. For the most part, it was good, but he excised some of the songs that he felt no longer fit in with his new spirituality.

I found this ironic. In the mid-80's, I surreptiously listened to his music while a Witness. Now out of the Witnesses and free to listen to whatever I wanted, Prince had decided that he was too holy for such theatrics. My highlight that night was his performance of "D.M.S.R.", a song I didn't expect to hear as the S in the song stood for sex.

My old man was not above striking me or my siblings if we stepped out of line. I recall one evening when me and one of my brothers were escorted outside by my father during the middle of a meeting. Under the starry sky, he proceeded to 'rap our backsides.

At home, he utilized a more sinister device, the belt. I have a number of scars on the middle of my back that my wife and various doctors have asked about. I'm not sure if they came from my dad, are a past-life scar, or have some other source. I don't blame him for hitting me, though. He must've known that one day, I'd be much sexier than him.

Yet Another Movie-Related Post

2011-01-13T18:16:00.004-06:00

This past Saturday, I went with my high-school friend to "Tron: Legacy". The original "Tron" came out 28 years ago; I was 11 years old at the time. I remember my mother taking me to it. Though the special effects were ground-breaking, I wasn't overly impressed with the film. Looking back, I am overly impressed with my mom. She taught me to love the movies from a very young age. Back then, one couldn't go online and see what the reviews were for a given movie. The closest thing was to look at what the movie critic had said about the film in the local newspaper. My mom would base what movie the family should see on what "looks good".

While taking us to plenty of sci-fi and action films, she also enjoyed going to films that were more her style, things like "Tootsie", "9 to 5", "Arthur", and "Mr. Mom". In most cases, I had a good time going to these films as well. One of my mother's favorite parts from "Arthur" was when the butler, John Gielgud, said to Dudley Moore, while he was in the bathtub: "Perhaps you would like me to come in there and wash your dick for you, you little shit." I'm greatly looking forward to this spring's remake which stars Russell Brand as the title character.

As me and my friend walked into the screening room on Saturday afternoon, a couple men and their sons were coming out. They looked confused. We walked in to complete darkness. Other than the track lights coming off the stairs, it was pitch black. I paid it no mind and found us a seat at the very top. Gradually others came and the pre-show magic began. There were about twenty other people at the show, all of them male. I explained to my friend what had occurred in the first so he wouldn't be lost; he got lost, anyway. The plot didn't make perfect sense, you see.

Nonetheless, we had a great time. Daft Punk did the soundtrack which was full of electronic and techno beats. I was grooving throughout the film. One of my favorite moments was when Jeff Bridges' son (by the way, this was the second consecutive movie I was attending that starred Bridges) went into the old video arcade and approached the circa early-80's jukebox. The first track it played was Journey's classic "Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)". Bridges was fun as always. In one scene, when his son is yelling at him, he says, "You're messing with my Zen thing, man!" Though not a masterpiece, we had a great time with the film and were glad we went.

On Happiness & Laughter

2011-01-11T14:48:00.003-06:00

After spending a fruitful weekend with a high-school friend, last night I took the opportunity to watch programs that had accumulated on our DVR. One of my favorite comedians, Jim Carrey, had hosted Saturday Night Live and I looked forward to checking it out. Much to my surprise, I gained nary a laugh from said program while my wife chuckled a number of times. Could it be that I just wasn't in the mood for a bit of levity?

After finishing "The Larry Sanders Show", I saw that a movie from 2004 was playing on the Independent Film Channel. Starring Tom Hanks, "The Ladykillers" was a Coen brothers movie (they directed the recent "True Grit") that I hadn't seen. The trailers made it look amusing, but I wasn't motivated enough to see it more than a half a decade ago.

It was a very unusual role for Hanks in that he played a Southern gent with an incredibly vast vocabulary and a goatee. He reminded one a bit of Colonel Sanders. There were a number of laughs in the early going and I loved how Hanks' character wasn't ashamed to use the 12-dollar words that he was familiar with; I sometimes have the tendency to dumb down my language when talking to others because I don't wish to pelt them with phrases they're not familiar with.

My wife grew tired and went to bed about an hour into the movie while I watched the heist that the film's characters had planned took place. It's a fantastic feeling to stumble upon a film that you have no expectations for, but which winds up pleasing you greatly. There was a running gag involving a garbage barge and I laughed the hardest, crying almost, when it was used for the last time in the movie's final minute. Just as an orgasm completes the sex act, so too, should the biggest laugh of a comedy come about at the very end and this is one of the rare movies that did so for me.

If it wasn't pleasing enough to close my night with a huge guffaw, my morning had started strong as well. As I drove with my friend on the interstate and looked at the farms covered by snow on a day in which the temperature hovered around 20 degrees, I was struck by a knowing that everything is perfect just the way it is. Now, that is something that I like to believe, but to actually feel it in the marrow of one's bones was a beautiful thing.

On the way home, my wife picked up a prescription while I walked a bit in the clinic's halls. I saw a lady who was walking kinda funny and smiled a bit, almost ashamed of how good I was feeling. I wanted to tell her that though it might not seem so, nothing needs fixing. A moment later, as an older man passed me, I again displayed an expression of extreme contentment. Walking outside to the car, I was tempted to skip, so great was my feeling of well-being. I do what I can each day to create my own happiness, but sometimes I'm surprised by how strongly the feeling can manifest.

My Return to the Movies

2011-01-02T12:27:00.001-06:00

Last week, I went to a movie for the first time in two months. The colder weather and paucity of high quality films combined to keep me away from the movie show over Thanksgiving and Christmas. There were a couple of movies I wanted to see ("Paranormal Activity 2", "Harry Potter and the Deathly Bowels"), but I just couldn't quite get the gumption to drive out there, think of a clever faux-name to declare to the cashier, take a whiz before the show starts, get a seat, sit through a dozen commercials (movie theatres used to be a refuge from ads) before finally getting to see the feature presentation while hoping my feet don't get cold.

My wife had been pestering me of late that she wanted to see the new "Focker" movie. A friend that she usually goes to the movies with has been busy, so it was up to me to take her to a movie she'd been eagerly anticipating for months. There was no way that I was going to see the film, though. Feeling burned by the last movie, released during the Christmas season of 2004, I wasn't about to be let down again. My love would witness Ben Stiller shenanigans while I went to "True Grit" which costars Matt Damon.

Interestingly enough, the last film I went to also starred Damon; "Hereafter", my favorite movie of 2010.

One plus of going to the theatre that we did is that they've recently reduced their pricing in order to be more family-friendly; it costs a lot of money to take a couple kids to a movie and get them pop and popcorn. Their evening shows are now $6 while matinees are just $4. We headed there in the mid-afternoon after eating at Subway; my cholesterol is a tad high, so I'm reducing my ingestion of saturated fats, not to mention trying to get more exercise. The movie theatre, in my eyes, was getting close to going out of business, so it was nice to see that the nicer prices had brought a lot of families out that day.

After getting tickets, as I'm wont to do, I strolled around the lobby and looked at the posters for upcoming movies. One thing that always brings a smile to my face is the huge paintings they have displayed high up. One is of the original poster for "Raiders of the Lost Ark", another for "E.T.". Looking up there takes me back thirty years to when I was a child and they were initially released.

After a time, she went to the "Focker" screening room where she opted to go all the way to the top and sit in the back. That's also where I chose to sit in my screening room. I noted that Jeff Bridges was starring in not only "True Grit", but in the film playing right next door, "Tron Legacy". I did see the original "Tron" when it was released in 1982, but can't say it was anything too special, though $4 might be a good incentive to check the sequel out later this week.

Once I got my seat, I laid down to my side and put my ear plugs in so as not to be adversely affected by the pre-show which consists of movie trivia and adverts. If anyone ever asks why I'm lying down, I'm going to say, "My doctor says that I can't be exposed to advertisements". Once the movie started, I took the plugs out and continued laying down though I propped my head up a bit with my right arm in order to see over the chairs in front of me. So comfortable and my feet didn't even really get cold. It could've been because of the several dozen people seated down below.

As for the movie itself, directed by the Coen brothers, it is an exemplary Western with a great cast. Terrific word-of-mouth is allowing the movie to do much better financially than was expected. I laughed out loud numerous times at some of the things that Bridges did. In his first scene, he was taking a shit in an outhouse and told the lady outside that he was gonna be in there for a while. I know the filmmakers have done their job when I leave the theatre with a smile on my face.

New Years Eve 2008

2010-12-31T11:58:00.000-06:00

Two years ago tonight, my wife and I were in Ashland, Oregon for Neale Donald Walsch's Recreating Yourself retreat. Here is what I experienced at the New Year Eve's Dinner:

That evening, there was a big dinner planned at the Ashland Springs Hotel for all attendees who agreed to pay the extra $45 for it. As far as I'm concerned, no meal is worth $45, so the wife and I didn't sign up for it. We planned to get a burger at Louie's while everyone else ate like there was no recession. Imagine our surprise when we were told that someone had offered to pay for the meals of 4 attendees who couldn't afford to go. On the next break, I went to the back room and said we were interested in attending on a "scholarship" basis.

We gussied up a tad before heading to the banquet hall. We arrived about 15 minutes after the scheduled start (this was intentional as I knew there was to be some socializing before any food was served). I asked a maitre'd if I could have a soft drink. He responded that the agreement was just that they have coffee and water available. What a rip-off! I told my wife I was going to get something liquidy out of the vending machine.

I found a dispenser on the 3rd floor (it was just outside). This was actually the 2nd time I'd been serviced by the machine; we'd been there the night before to find some chocolate to munch on before going to sleep. It was there that we petted a cat, a cat that we found out was the hotel's (shades of the shop cats we'd seen over the past few days). The cat was there yet again as I put money in for a 20 ounce container of Gatorade (I also got some juice for my beloved).

Upon my return, I found a seat and asked for a cup of ice in which to put my tasty beverage. Ah, that's much better now. I feel almost human. A few minutes later, we got in the buffet line. Neale hadn't shown yet, but had every right to be fashionably late. I'm a relatively small portion guy, so just took some chicken, a bit of mashed potatoes and something else that escapes my mind at the moment (I knew I shoulda took more detailed notes).

My wife piled it on as she was aiming to get her money's worth. We sat down and began eating. The chicken wasn't bad, but it was several degrees inferior to what was served at our wedding 10 years prior. The other stuff was mostly rubbish. I wondered if any of the others felt the same. No one was letting on at this point.

Neale and his life partner entered the room shortly thereafter. Neale was wearing a snazzy black leather jacket; very hip, I have to say. He was sitting in the table behind us, no more than 12 feet from me. He didn't make any grand statements, just ate quietly with the people who had been fortunate enough to sit at the "right" table.

I tried two desserts hoping for better luck, but again, both were shit. My wife actually liked one of the items I didn't have the heart to finish. She didn't even drink the juice I'd bought her (perhaps peer pressure led her to drink the water others were having). There was decent conversation as we got to know a few of the people at our table better. One lady was wondering what Neale thought about 2012. I just shook my head.

A Night To Remember

2010-12-26T23:45:00.001-06:00

I've made more than 700 postings here at Minnesota Meanderings. Here is the 6th post I made (more than 4 years ago):

"In 1981, our family was on vacation in Wisconsin. Mom had agreed to take us kids to a movie. I wanted to see "The Empire Strikes Back" for the millionth time. Mom suggested we go see the new comedy with Chevy Chase and Carrie Fisher instead. I reluctantly agreed and was very pleasantly surprised. In fact, for the next two hours, we were all rolling in the aisles as we watched "Under the Rainbow".

It's not on DVD yet, but Warner Brothers does have plans to release it in the near future."

Up until last night, I hadn't seen the film since, probably 1987; it was on USA one night that year and my sister said she wanted to watch it.

That's more than 20 years for a movie that I'm reminded of every now and then. Many times, when I hear someone say "cable", I think back to the part in the movie where some midgets take some cable from the top of an elevator shaft and the black elevator operator laughs as the little people leave with it. The man then says, as he shuts the doors and presses the button to go down, "Talkin' about the cable...the cable...ahhhhh" as he crashes into the basement of the hotel and comes out a midget himself; he was full-grown before the fall. Imagine how it felt to know that another on IMDB.com has the exact same experience.

I know most of you have no idea what movie I'm even talking about, so here are a few minutes from the movie's climax to give you a taste of what it had goin' on.

The movie didn't come out on DVD as soon as I was hoping. In fact, it still hasn't had a proper DVD release. I read earlier this year that it was available at WarnerArchive as a DVD that had apparently been ripped; it can't be watched on DVD recorders. The going price was about $25 with shipping.

For years, when looking at pawn shops or thrift stores, I would take a quick look through the videotapes to see if it was there. It never happened, so I felt it was time to take matters into my own hands when I saw that it could be had for $18. It arrived by mail on Christmas Eve and I did a little 360 in celebration as I went back inside.

While seeing my mom that evening, I mentioned the film and showed her the DVD box, but she had no memory of it. While there, I found out that one of my half-sisters has a cat that is named "Monster". As a joke, I said, "Is that because of the Lady Gaga song?"; I knew she liked Gaga. Her answer was "Yes" and I was like, "OMG!"

My love affair with 1981 (the year "Rainbow" came out) continued when my mom gave me one of the things I'd requested for Christmas: The Complete Making of Indiana Jones which is primarily about the making of "Raiders of the Lost Ark" which also came out in '81.

I wound up watching "Rainbow" in the bedroom as it couldn't be watched in the family room where we have a DVD recorder. My love let me watch it on my own while she viewed other programming. Lines that went over my head as a youngster were now all too clear such as when Chevy Chase is lying on Carrie Fisher and she says, "Is that your gun?" His reply: "I'm wearing a shoulder holster".

Had I the ability to tell my 10-year old self that he would still be enjoying "Rainbow" at the age of 40, I'm sure he would have been more than a little surprised.

Backyard Shenanigans

2010-12-20T12:35:00.005-06:00

Watching football last night, I saw a commercial for a game being played this evening between the Chicago Bears and the Minnesota Vikings. It was noted that this would be the first time the Vikings would be playing an outdoor game in Minnesota since December 20, 1981 (they've played in a dome since then, a dome that collapsed earlier this month due to the heavy amount of snow that fell).

They also showed a few seconds of that last game, played where the Mall of America is now located. The quarterback for Minnesota back then was Tommy Kramer.

I liked how we had the same first name.

This was right around the time that I was getting into the NFL. My dad and uncle helped explain to me how the game worked. At my grandma's, there were a number of Sports Illustrated issues from the Vikings glory years (the mid-70's) when they went to four Super Bowls.

Looking to get my mitts on as much info about the game as possible, I bought a paperback book that had all the major NFL records in it; it told me who all the past Super Bowl winners were, which quarterback had the most passing yards (the Vikings' 70's QB, Fran Tarkenton), and how to have sex with a cup on.

I had a game I liked to play with myself in the backyard. We had a one-car garage and I'd take a tennis ball and glove and throw the ball onto the garage's shingles; the garage had a slant to it. I would aim for a specific row and then try to catch the ball as it came down. Sometimes I would aim for the highest row (closest to the other side) without the ball going over. Playing there, I was actually in the neighbors' yard, but they didn't seem to mind.

It was while walking around to the other side of the garage that I had one of the scariest moments of my life. It was close to dusk and as I passed the entrance to the garage's shed, a mass of black flew not a foot in front of me. It had come out of the shed's broken window, a cat, it turned out to be.

I also recall playing a game of croquet with my family in that back yard. My parents had bought a nice set and we had a good time. I don't remember playing again, however. Is it because we didn't or because the other times weren't as memorable as the others? Same thing for a supper we had on our picnic table in the backyard. During that supper, Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl" played.

There was also a good deal of excitement the day our parents bought us a deluxe swing set. Not only did it have the swings, but also a slide, one of those metal bar things that girls can dangle from (precursor to the stripper pole), and a 2-seat device that could go back and forth. I was a bit big for the contraption when it arrived, but had to admit that it was a nice addition to the yard. Truth be told, I probably had more fun grabbing a portion of the new circular clothesline we had and spinning it clockwise or counter, depending on my mood. I had zero interest in the garden my mother tended though the rhubarb it produced was fantastic.

Last-Minute Christmas Thoughts

2010-12-18T14:10:00.002-06:00

With Christmas less than a week away, it went through my mind last night that not only is telling kids that Santa Claus exists an affront to a parent's duty to be truthful to their children, so too, is the Nativity story most likely a fiction.

Of course, I believe that peace and good will to men is an excellent precept year-round, but there have been too many instances where the founder of a religion is given a birth story that defies logic. Jesus is no less a good man by not having been born to a virgin or under a bright star.

Though they lean too much on the Christmas story, I do enjoy listening to Xmas music this time of year. I have more than four dozen Christmas CD's and it's quite an effort to get through most of them in the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I usually listen to one in the morning while showering and shaving, another in the car while going to work and doing other errands, and, of course, while wrapping Christmas presents.

I was able to add two more to my collection this year for a minimal price; I went to a pawn shop a few months ago and got Elvis and Josh Groban's collections for a dollar apiece. One of my favorite discs is Tori Amos's from last year. It has a number of songs that reference the winter solstice, something that preceded the Jesus story. Here's a link to one of my favorites.

Lastly, I was at Kmart last week and noticed a woman dressed all in black in one of those burqa-thingies. A number of years ago, I walked around our town's lake and when I encountered one of them, typically walking behind their husband, I would lift my eyebrows as if to say, "Damn, girl, you're HOT!!"

At the store last week, I didn't see her with anyone. Perhaps she was doing some Christmas shopping or whatever holiday it is that they celebrate. What caught my eye, though, was what she had in her hand and wound up checking out with: some kind of perfume or body spray called Sexual Fantasies. I was taken for a loop and thought, "Repressed MUCH?"

My Visit to a Hindu Temple

2010-12-13T15:38:00.001-06:00

On the recommendation of a friend who had read my book, I made a visit to the town's Hindu temple two weeks ago. This friend felt that although my belief system lined up with Buddhism, I might get something out of going to what amounted to a Hindu Bible study. He had been attending for the past couple months. Knowing that life begins at the end of one's comfort zone, I agreed.

While getting ready, I decided to go for something a bit more formal than what I typically wear: black dress shoes and black corduroys. I arrived about 25 minutes before the service was to start. As I stepped inside, I saw an Indian lady at the door. I said, "Hi", but she didn't say anything back. She headed downstairs as I took off my coat.

It was then that I noticed the sign that said one must remove their shoes before entering the inner sanctuary; my friend had said that I would have to take them off, but I'd conveniently forgotten. My feet get cold easily, so I was a tad nervous about making it a full hour without any coverings, other than my socks, that is.

As I walked into the temple proper, I saw an Indian and a Honky talking quietly. I was a bit floored (pun intended) when I saw that there were no chairs in there (save for half a dozen on the left side of the room). I let the two gentlemen continue their discussion while I sat on the floor cross-legged. I looked around the room which had about a dozen various Hindu deities with an equal number of candles lit next to them. I pretended to meditate while I waited for others, including my friend, to arrive.

After a time, the white guy got up and greeted me. A tad older than I, he was a former Christian who had justifyingly grown dissatisfied with the faith. As he looked at "the gods" we were surrounded by, he said he didn't know any of the names of them, but was looking forward to learning. That is one aspect that can be cool about a new faith: learning its history and traditions. I could tell that this man was very earnest in his search and saw a bit of myself from my college days.

My friend arrived a few minutes later and gave me an extra copy of the Bhagavad Gita, the scripture we would be studying.

I quickly headed downstairs to the bathroom before things got going. There wound up being six males for the study, three crackers and three of the Indian persuasion. One man led the study by reading a number of verses from the Gita and then elaborating on what they meant. Throughout the hour, I was tempted, sitting on the floor, to spread my legs out, but knew that that would be a no-no, so continued to sit Indian-style (more puns) as time went by. One thing was certain: I was going to have better posture coming out of this thing.

There were a number of points brought up that I was in hearty agreement with, things like it takes more than one life to experience all there is to know about the human experience and that one's misery can be greatly reduced by detaching from things having to go a certain way in one's life. It was also acknowledged that God is in everything, including dogs (there's no doubt of that in my mind). Another thing I liked was that there was no talk of Jesus as these scriptures were written hundreds of years before God had his way with Mary. Jesus is cool, but he is pre-dated by a huge percentage of respective human history and evolution.

As time went on, the room got steadily darker, so dark, in fact, that it was becoming difficult to see the others' faces. I wondered if/when someone was going to turn on the lights. A few minutes later, the women and children, who had been playing downstairs, came up to close the service. One of the women turned on the lights as the others got in line to praise a favorite deity. I stood in back and watched this take place. A song was also sung by the group before we finally adjourned.

Just before leaving, I told my friend that I had enjoyed the service. He asked if I would return. I said I wasn't sure. I shook the hand of the other white guy and wished him good luck on detachment; it was something he said he was working on.

Next, I arranged to meet my wife at Famous Dave's. Being Jewish, she said her parents would have a fit if they knew she went to a Hindu temple. The good vibes from the service apparently were making an impact as I felt like smiling while sitting at the restaurant. As we began eating our entrees', I saw a number of wet spots on my upper shirt. I couldn't figure out where the hell they would've come from. I smelled them and looked a bit closer at the color before realizing that it was corn juice; it had sprayed from my love's mouth to the collar of my shirt. Fifteen minutes later, without doing a thing, the stain had faded.

My good mood continued as we finished up. At the table next to us, a couple were having burgers. I laughed out loud as the woman squirted an almost-empty ketchup bottle onto her cowpie and it made the sound of a juicy fart.

My Obligatory Christmas Post

2010-12-07T13:34:00.000-06:00

For the second year in a row, I won't be getting Christmas cards for the people with whom I'll be celebrating on Christmas Eve. Not only is it a waste of money (as most people toss the cards, anyway), but the thought of trees dying so that I can say, "I love you" to loved ones just doesn't work for me, especially since it can be done without negatively impacting the environment.

The wife and I have decided, for the first time, not to exchange any gifts this year, though I did pick up a DVD I think she'll like at Wal-Mart yesterday. Giving her a list of three to five things that I want and then acting surprised when she buys me a couple of them, well, I'm just not in the mood for such games. I told her that if she does find something that she thinks I'll like, to pick it up, but be sure to save the receipt.

My mom has taught me a good strategy for making gift-opening a bit more fun. Many times when she gives out presents, she'll have them wrapped in a box for a completely different product. I'll be getting her this time as I wrapped a 6-pack of socks that I bought her in the box for a digital camera, and it looks perfect, like it really is the camera that she's getting.

To give you an idea of what Christmas Eve is typically like for me, here is video from our 2005 celebration:

Entry From My Wife's Journal

2010-12-06T13:10:00.000-06:00

Tom proposed on Saturday, November 15, 1997, at the Valley View Mall in LaCrosse, Wisconsin.

We ate lunch at the Olive Garden prior to him popping the big question. I ate angel hair pasta, warm freshly baked breadsticks, and white grape "love" juice (italian) delicioso! Tom ate, yes, you guessed right, pizza italiano, breadsticks, and white grape juice "the love juice!"

The engagement ring is beautiful. 1/4 carat mounted in a cathedral setting. Flawless, and I might add, very sparkly. I am a nurse and many of my patients, along with dear family and friends, have made endless comments about the ring's beauty.

(Editor's note: Tom actually proposed in the mall parking lot, having chicken-shitted out from doing it at the Garden).

Meandering Questions

2010-12-02T19:26:00.000-06:00

My other half (I actually don't believe in an "other half"; I feel we are complete just as we are, though having another in which to share our completeness is a blessed thing) finally began reading my book last week.

The below pic is on the back cover with the caption:

"With my two favorite people, "--- ---- and Neale Donald Walsch"

I laid on the sofa with the TV turned down a bit as she sat on the recliner reading the 397-page tome. She had a number of interesting comments and questions to make as she plowed through the first 100 pages. Here are a few of the more notable ones:

"Do you know how to play Cribbage?"

"Now I know why you don't like to go swimming."

"I didn't know you were Catholic."

"You should change the part where it says 'colored teenager' to 'black teenager.'"

"What does 'quietude' mean?"

"Did your mom ever catch you masturbating? Did your brothers?"

"Now I know why you don't wear deodorant."

"Why don't you chew gum anymore?"

"Did you sneak into the study last Christmas to get a peek at the presents I bought you?"

"You didn't go to your high school graduation?"

"Why did you write that biking made you unable to father children?"

Another Thanksgiving at Old Country Buffet: Part II

2010-11-29T11:45:00.000-06:00

We thanked our friends for coming before heading up to the buffet. I first chose to get a couple glasses of pop. I was a tad disappointed with the choices they had before going to the other side of the fountain to see that they had Cherry Coke, my new favorite soft drink (for the last few years, it's been Mello Yello).

I then got in line at the meat station. The mashed potatoes weren't labeled, but I recognized them as such and took a good portion. Just like two years ago, there was a young guy behind the counter asking if we wanted him to cut a slice of turkey, ham, or steak. I opted for turkey. As he cut it, I said, "You know, your arm's gonna be pretty sore tomorrow". He smiled and nodded his head.

I finished filling up my plate with a slice of pizza and some baked fish (had to be healthier than the fried version). I was a tad discouraged not to see any cinammon rolls. I asked one of the workers who said that they no longer had them available. My love said that she didn't see any stuffing up there, either.

The dynamics of dinner conversation change remarkably with the addition of another couple. I pelted both of them with various questions on work, movies, and most pleasurable sexual positions. Our friend's wife said that she was enjoying watching Sarah Palin's new nature show. She said that even if you didn't like her politics, it was worth checking out. I disagreed to myself while outwardly nodding a bit.

A few minutes later, I was able to give the waiter a buck. He was happy to get it, but not like two years ago. I decided that I would give him one more dollar the next time he came around.

I asked if they still went to church (they are Latter-Day Saints). The husband said that he had his testimony (I didn't ask him to elaborate) and though the church recommended fellowship with other Mormons, he didn't feel that he needed to be at church on Sunday morning.

As an aside, a co-worker, after reading my book, invited me to his church, a Hindu temple, this past Sunday. Would you believe they have services in the afternoon? Quite a break for me as one of the reasons I don't regularly go anywhere is not wanting to get up early. I'll be sure to issue a report on what I experienced in the near future.

My friend's wife asked if we'd seen "The Man With Two Brains". I responded, "From 1983?" She said, "Yes". A bit later, they were talking about "The Shining".

I said, "1980" knowing with absolute certainty that that was the year of its release. The friends' husband said that I must be a big movie fan. I said I was and this name-the-year thing is something I've been doing a lot lately.

A couple weeks ago, I was buying some movie books at Salvation Army and the cashier mentioned that she went to "The Exorcist" and didn't go to the movies for two years after because she was so disturbed by it. I commented that it came out in 1973.

Many times when my wife is watching a movie, I'll say the year I believe it came out, and in four out of five cases, I'll be right. You might say that this is useless information to have, but it helps from time to time when playing along to Jeopardy! movie categories.

As our meal neared its completion (I finished up with a small slice of pumpkin pie), I was able to give our server another dollar. He nodded his head and smiled a bit. Our companion couple didn't tip a dime, saying that they paid enough for the buffet. I offered that the servers didn't get a cut of what we paid to get in. They're a tad miserly considering that they both work full-time and have plenty of money. Being Republicans probably doesn't help matters.

They invited us to join them at their place afterward, but I was eager to get home and watch a football game that I'd been taping. We headed home and watched a good deal of telly before engaging in my favorite sexual position. As the temperature dipped, I looked forward to having the next three days off and being able to sleep in to my heart's content.

Another Thanksgiving at Old Country Buffet

2010-11-26T14:24:00.001-06:00

For the second time in three years, my Thanksgiving was spent at Old Country Buffet (for all the details on my experience there in 2008, click here). Instead of my high-school friend, this time I went with my life partner. We'd invited another couple to join us, but they weren't too hot on coming. A pleasant surprise was had, however, when they called while I was in the shower asking what time they could meet us there.

I hadn't been back to OCB in the two years since my last visit. Just like last time, the line was (almost) out the door. Our friends hadn't come yet, so we opted to queue and then get a table once we paid for our order. Waiting in line for 20 minutes can be quite taxing, especially when one is hungry (and your money is being wasted if you don't go to OCB almost starving).

Of course, I could talk to my beloved, but really, what is there to say that we haven't already talked about at some point?

The couple in front of us had a four-year old child and were trying to make out how much it would be for him to eat. Not being able to make out the prices displayed up front, I told them that it would be $3.49. They asked if I could actually see that far or if I just knew it. I said that I could see it. Both commented that they should get their eyes checked. I told them not to worry, that I've been known to have good eyes. This was reassuring to me as, having recently turned 40, I was wondering if I still had the eyes of a hawk.

The husband mentioned that his wife would probably only eat half a plate of food (she was ridiculously thin). I said that they really should just charge each person based on what they weighed instead of a set $10.49. My girl, who recently had weight-loss surgery, could've told the cashier that her shrunken stomach would only allow her to eat one plate of food, but didn't want to mess with it.

The teen son behind us was talking to his parents about how good a movie "The Expendables" was. He said it had Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Bruce Willis. When he wasn't able to name some of the others, I jumped in saying, "Jet Li, Jason Statham, a wrestler".

As we moved closer to the front, I saw our friends has made it and both had smiles on their faces; the wife was passing the time playing on her iPhone. From time to time, I took a peek inside the restaurant to see if anyone I knew was there. No dice, thus far.

One good thing about going out to eat with my wife these days is that she is no longer allowed to drink soda; the fizz messes with her stomach. So we save $2+ every time we go out as the only thing she'll drink is water (and the water she can't drink until 30 minutes after she's finished eating).

We finally made it to the front where we paid for our dinners before my girl headed to the bathroom. She told me when she got out that she didn't actually have to go, but that her pants were about to fall down (one of the downsides of losing 40 pounds in three months).

The hostess directed us to our seats where we waited for our friends. I smiled as I saw the Chinese-Japanese waiter that I'd given a $1 tip to two Thanksgivings before. A minute later, I took a dollar bill out of my wallet which I sought to slip to him the moment he got close to our table.

(To Be Continued...)

Affliction

2010-11-22T14:10:00.000-06:00

In stark contrast to what I experience these days, I caught a number of colds every year while attending college. I had to be really under the weather, however, to skip classes. There wasn't much of a difference between laying in bed and sitting upright in the back row of a classroom. Both were passive and there was something to be said about keeping things business as usual even when one wasn't feeling 100%.

I was greatly aided on those kinds of days by a number of oral medicines that I'd take. For sore throats, Chloraseptic was a life-saver. Even the worst pain in that area was soothed by the stuff.

I made sure to bring plenty of cough lozenges with me to class when that was one of the symptoms I was experiencing. Few things are more trying than coughing uncontrollably while others are trying to learn. I also made sure to be relatively quiet while blowing my nose so as not to bother others.

When my condition dragged out or was more severe, I would be seen at the college health office. Upon being admitted, the first thing they'd give a student was a page with tips on how to best deal with a cold or flu. I'd peruse the paper for a moment or two making sure I was doing what was asked before browsing a magazine while I waited to be called.

There was a fifty-something nurse who was especially kind to me. Like most health care workers, she didn't like to see a person suffering needlessly (though if no one was suffering, she would be out of a job). She'd take my temperature, ask a number of questions, and if necessary, give me heavy-duty anti-flu meds.

On one occasion, she asked if I was seeing anyone. I hesitated a bit before saying that I was. I gather that she had a daughter, perhaps, who was looking for a good man and thought I might do the trick. I wondered for a time after who the woman in question was, wondering if I'd missed out on the chance to go steady with a dreamboat.

One of the best things about being sick is the feeling one gets as the sickness goes away. After trudging a number of days feeling 40% or less, to see that percentage steadily increase is cause enough to believe that there's a God. Of course, if belief in God is how one gets better, than who was it that instigated the sickness? And to what end? (I've always wanted to use that phrase in a blog posting)

These days, in which I rarely get sick, I sometimes look longingly at the cough drops and sore throat sprays on the grocery store shelves. You see, ingesting them always takes me back to my college days where I utilized them the most and though I'm quite happy that the Good Lord has blessed me by rarely needing them, I sometimes wish I'd catch a 48-hour bug, if only to take me back to those long-ago days.

Snow Day

2010-11-15T15:03:00.004-06:00

After the light dusting of snow we got last week, I'm reminded of those long-ago days when it snowed so hard that school had to be canceled for the day. One of the last opportunities I had to experience such a day was just over 20 years ago. Thankfully, I have video documentation of said event. As you'll see, all seven of my mom's kids did as they wished (the twins were too young to attend school). For those hoping to catch a glimpse of yours truly, well, somebody had to hold that monstrous camera to their face.

Christmas In The Dells

2010-11-08T18:54:00.000-06:00

In December of 1984, my father, wanting to avoid the holidays and also in the mood to get out of town, asked if we'd like to stay a few nights in the Wisconsin Dells. Though I was now a teenager, one of my favorite vacation memories is going to Storybook Gardens there; pictures exist of this trip to prove that the memory is not faux. Not only would the five of us kids go, so, too, would the first two children of a family friend. Named Heath and Heather, they were sure to make a Christmas spent in another state a bit more compelling than it would otherwise have been.

I told all my teachers the days I would be gone and they prepared me accordingly. My computer teacher had me take a test before leaving town; the rest of the class would take it while I was gone. He was exactly what you'd expect from a computer instructor in the mid-80's. Bald, except for around the ears, with glasses and a pocket protector, he made the primitive instruments he'd mastered look cool.

One afternoon, while teaching the language BASIC, he showed us how to write a short program which would allow us to write any sentence we wanted and then see it stream endlessly across the monitor. There was a somewhat nerdy girl that liked to talk to me during class's downtime. Though it made me feel a bit embarassed, it was cool to have the attention of one of the fairer sex.

As I took the test, Mr. Kolter, along with a good-looking student aid, watched to make sure there were no bugs. It all went extremely smoothly as I finished up and looked forward to some time off from 8th grade.

A couple days later, we were firmly ensconced at the Dells staying at a nice hotel and enjoying being together. Heather had had a bit of a crush on me for a number of years and it was during this time that we got closer than we ever had before. With minimal parental supervision, we embraced quite a number of times that week. Happily, my dad encouraged it, saying that perhaps we'd be together one day.

The rooms had a built-in radio placed just over the bed. As the two of us were about to leave the room to go to the swimming pool, I told Heather to hold her horses as one of my favorite new songs was on, "Jack Wagner's "All I Need" (he was also a actor on General Hospital). We smiled at each other as the words spoke to what we were both feeling. Another song that reminds me of that week is Cyndi Lauper's "All Through the Night".

This would be one of the last times that I would go swimming. Feeling self-conscious about my body (puberty will do that to you) and moving in with my mother seven months later, in which the opportunity to spend time at hotels would be much less frequent, all but put an end to my time in the pool.

One of my happiest memories, though, is sitting in the whirlpool with the others and looking outside through the two-story window. Just fifty feet away, there were pine trees and snow on the ground.

But inside, we were toasty warm and Stevie Wonder's "Love Light in Flight" was playing.

As inevitably happens with young love, me and Heather were at each other's throats a couple days later. We were able to make up by the time we made it back to Minnesota. I would be in the faith that we both shared for just a few more months. After that, she all but disappeared from my life. I heard sometime later that she would, most likely, marry me if I came back to "The Truth" (the Jehovah's Witnesses). Though she was a wonderful girl, that was just too high a price for me to pay.

Mall Walker

2010-11-06T14:06:00.002-05:00

Yesterday morning, having the day off and knowing my friend, Shanon, did as well, I sent him a text asking if he'd like to go to the Mall of America. Little did I know that the texting function on his phone wasn't working due to lack of payment. All was not lost as he wound up calling me, anyway, asking if it'd be OK for him to come up next weekend to celebrate my fortieth birthday; his girlfriend's birthday happens to be the day after mine.

They said they'd be more than willing to go to America's Mall. I'm not generally too big on malls, but felt that the trip might almost be worth it if after shopping, we went to IHOP, a restaurant that isn't located in our 100,000-strong city.

We made it up to the mall at around 3pm. One pleasant surprise is that the halls and stores weren't too crowded, something which probably wouldn't be the case today and certainly wouldn't be so three weeks from now.

We first stopped to have a bite to eat at one of the mall's two food courts. They went to Taco Bell while I opted for a Whopper Jr. meal at Burger King. I hadn't had BK in a while and it was much better than I remembered it. Shanon had to make a deposit in the bathroom afterward, but was a bit flustered when all three stalls were occupied. A few minutes later, he was able to get in.

We toyed with the idea of mini-golfing, but decided to place more of a priority on checking the stores out. There is also an amusement park located at the center of the mall which we chose to avoid.

I kept an eye out for mall security officers throughout the day as there is a TV program that recently aired on A&E about MOA's mall cops. I saw a number of them, but none that struck me as familiar from the series.

We started on the second floor where Shanon and his gal found plenty of opportunities in which to spend their hard-earned (they work in a factory) moolah. Shanon stopped at a place called Lids (they sell hats) and bought a couple winter caps. I sat and waited outside the store as he checked out and grew impatient as this went on for more than ten minutes; he was the only one in line. I finally went up and asked what was happening. He said he was getting his check approved. A check? Can you imagine? It was eventually approved, but for the rest of the day, he wisely elected to use his debit card.

Shortly after we hit the 3rd floor, they stopped at Frederick's of Hollywood, a world-famous store that sells sexy lingerie. As they shopped, I stepped to the guardrail and looked at the floors below. A few minutes later, I looked back into the store where his girl had gone in back to try some sexy piece on. It was then that I noticed a woman working the register. She had some type of black boustier on that really lifted her bosoms up. I don't typically like to stare, but have to admit to gawking for a number of minutes.

As time went by, I wondered when my feet would get sore. As a teenager, whenever I went to LaCrosse's Valley View Mall, my feet would get achy near the end of my day there. My favorite stores to shop at back then were Waldenbooks, Musicland, and Kay-Bee (a toy store). So far, they were fine. Perhaps the running stores I'd recently bought would delay its onset.

At one point, we walked past a restaurant called Bubba Gump's Shrimp (it's based on an idea Forrest Gump's friend had about opening a place that sold all kinds of shrimp). At the entrance, in a glass enclosure, was one of the suits Tom Hanks wore for the movie as well as his suitcase and a box of chocolates.

I marveled that I had actually seen the movie at that very mall in the summer of 1994; my mother had taken me and my brothers to the Twin Cities for a mini-vacation.

One of the last stores we hit was on the first floor, Bath & Body Works. Shanon's girlfriend grew excited when she realized there was a store-wide sale going on in which if you bought three of their products, you could get three for free. As she browsed, I noted that the overhead speakers were playing Ray Charles' version of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer". I wasn't surprised to hear a Christmas song playing in early November at the U.S.'s largest mall, but wasn't about to let the moment pass without saying something. After Shanon and his girl checked out, I said, "Merry Christmas" to the cashier.

Cheap Seats

2010-11-01T18:56:00.002-05:00

In the late 90's, one of my favorite places to spend a few hours was at the "Cheap theatre". Some called it the "Dollar fifty theatre" as that's what they charged for admission. If I happened to miss a film while it was in first run, the cheap theatre gave me an avenue in which to still see it on the big screen. The formal name of the movie house was Cinema 1-2-3.

The Mrs. and I had seen Chris Tucker's breakthrough in "Money Talks" a number of weeks before, but were so amused by him that we decided to catch the film once again at the cheap theatre.

We were one of the only ones there. Partway through the movie, it started getting quite cold. My girl said that her nose was cold. I wasn't about to put up with it, so went up to the only employee who appeared to be there: a teenager named Zach.

I told him that my lady was freezing her touchis off, but it was to no avail. He said that there wasn't any way that he could adjust the thermostat. I didn't believe him. I told him that I'd keep a mental note of his name, which is obviously still the case thirteen years later. We watched a couple more minutes before electing to leave, sneaking out the back door so I wouldn't be tempted to give Zach any more disapproving looks.

One evening, while waiting for the movie to start, I sat on the aisle when a bunch of black kids found seats near the front. Over the next few minutes, they ran back and forth from their seats to the lobby. To encourage them to slow down, I stuck my foot out into the aisle a number of times. They still ran, but avoided my side of the aisle. Before I knew what hit me, a black lady was all up in my face wondering why I was trying to trip her brood.

Some nights when my lady was working, I'd go to the movies by myself. "Boogie Nights" was one of the best movies I saw back then. It was my first brush with Julianne Moore and Philip Seymour Hoffman and that last shot was a doozy! The most notable thing about seeing "Dangerous Beauty" is that the audience was virtually all male. This, mixed with the mature subject matter, made it feel like I was attending a porno screening.

One night in 1999, we were out with my mom. They wanted to see Anthony Hopkins in "Instinct" while I opted to see Catherine Zeta in "Entrapment". I knew I made the right choice when partway through my movie, I went to see how they were doing. It felt like Vegas in July; there were a great deal of people in there which could have been the source. I sat for a moment with them remarking on how warm it was. They didn't seem to mind. A moment later, I returned to the coolness (pun intended) of "Entrapment".

Later in '99, I went to see the "South Park" movie for the 4th time at the Cinema (the first three were seen first-run). While waiting for the show to start, a teenager with crutches came in with his father and a friend. The father sat a row or two behind his son and friend in order to give them some space. I'm not sure the father knew just how hard-R this film was, so looked forward to seeing his reaction to various scenes. Indeed, he appeared quite offended by a couple of sequences, but there was no way he was going to infringe on the fun his injured son was having.

July 31, 2000 - Journal entry: Part II

2010-10-30T14:02:00.003-05:00

I have been writing today's entry in the Charter House. I am at the Mayo Employee Orientation. Safety is being discussed right now. I think I get paid for this orientation session. I'll have to look at my paycheck in a few weeks.

Anywho, I start my regular job tomorrow at 9am. I got the call this morning when I was checking messages, on a break from orientation. I'm to report to the 20th floor of Mayo. Sweet. We'll see how that goes.

This session today isn't quite as boring as I thought it would be. It's not as exciting as looking for videos and CD's in Pawn America, but what is? The thing I love about PA is that I never know what I'm going to find there. They currently have all CD's priced at $2.99 or $1.99. A few days ago, I bought the Spice Girls' "Spice World" there.

It wasn't a great CD, but it only cost about $3.00.

Movies are cool, too. A couple weeks ago, they had "The Matrix Special Edition" for only $5.00. What a deal. I like to go to PA often enough where I have a good chance to look at the new stuff before too many other people have that chance. Otherwise, that CD or video will be gone. I'd rather not go too often, though, or else I'm just looking at the same old shit all the time. So, I try to strike a balance. I haven't been there in about 3 days, so I'm probably due.

You may ask, when does this stop? When do you have enough of these things where you don't need to go to Pawn America any longer? That's a good question and one that I'm sure Dori would like to know the answer to. My response to that is as long as there is a video or CD that I am interested in purchasing, PA serves a purpose.

Virtually all the videotapes I have purchased over the last few months have been previously viewed (used). It's much easier to justify $5 for a used video or CD than $15-$20 for a new one. Of course, if GB comes out with a new recording, I'm there right away. I'm not going to wait for used stuff in that case.

I occasionally go to Broadway Records and Face the Music for used CD's, but they usually don't have too much. For videos, I also go to Hollywood Video and Blockbuster Video. Hollywood's PVT's are fairly expensive, though. PA is the most enjoyable place for me. Their low prices and good selections make it a can't-miss for me. Okay, Dori?

Dori has stopped taking her birth control pills. Why the hell would she do that? Well, I actually approved it. Hard to believe, but true. She's doing pretty good. She LOVES her new job. We are financially strapped right now. But her check will go a long way to helping us out. She gets that in about a week.

Well, there you have it. The history of these past 6 months. They have been quite eventful, to say the least. I hope it's not 6 months before I write another entry. Let me close by saying that Dori is cute.

I forgot to mention that Arthur moved to Illinois last month. I'll give more details on that at a later date. That's it for now. All is well. I am joyful. I am loving. I am accepting. I am blessing. I am grateful. I am that I am. Amen.

A Hike to Sugar Loaf: Part II

2010-10-27T09:50:00.001-05:00

As we walked, we came closer and closer to the foot of the hill. It was absolutely divine. I began to show a little apprehension because I wasn't exactly sure where the path started. I made an educated guess and directed the boys to follow me. There were still houses nearby. But we were about to leave all that.

We started climbing. My guess was right. We continued to climb, higher and higher up from the rest of the world. Occasionally, the boys would look back down at the houses far below. We climbed for about 20 minutes. It was getting hot. Right before we started the climb, we had stopped to have a drink from our water bottles near a water tower which marked the beginning of the path. But the weather was making us thirsty again. I told the boys that the perfect place to stop for a drink was right around the corner.

We hiked for a few more minutes and we were about three-quarters up the hill of Sugar Loaf. There was a niche in the hill and we stopped there for some Doritos and a cold drink. As the persons of my party began consuming the goods, I showed them that just yards away was a fantastic view of Winona. The boys moved near the cliff and ate with their legs dangling over the edge enjoying the view. My siblings and their friend were loving it all! After about 10 minutes, we were ready to hike the rest of the way.

You could see on their faces that the boys were excited. I had them wrapped around my finger. My every word was their command! We hiked for a few more minutes and then, a spectacular sight! It was Sugar Loaf! We were only about fifty yards from touching the rock itself! We were on the top of the hill of Sugar Loaf! Matt, one of my brothers, let out an "awesome!" and the rest of them were amazed, too. They had grown up all their lives seeing Sugar Loaf hundreds of feet above the ground on a hill. Now they were standing before it as if it were a god.

I decided to seize the moment. I had taken a few pictures with my brother, Brian's camera at the spot where we stopped for a snack break. But THIS was a real opportunity. I took a picture of the boys running around and trying to climb the rock. Then, I got a shot of the scenic view below of Winona. Finally, I had them all pose in front of the rock and took a snapshot of that. The rock towered over all of them in the picture.

Soon afterward, a few dozen men and women arrived on the scene with some kind of military man leading them all. Several of these people were carrying ropes with them. We watched as the military man briefed the others keeping a safe distance away from the group. Shortly afterward, about half of the people went down the hill. The others stayed and several began scaling the rock. We watched for a little while, had some more water and Doritos, and then decided to head back.

About halfway down the hill, we came across the rest of the group. A rope was extended from one part of the side of the hill to another. Members of the group were taking turns sliding down the rope by holding onto some sort of a handle. We stayed out of their way as we continued down the hill. We made it to the watertower and the end of the trail.

We walked the rest of the way home and spoke happily about our little adventure. My idea of showing them Sugar Loaf had turned into a total success!

[Teacher's comments: Nice job, Tom! (A)]

70's Memories

2010-10-25T11:20:00.001-05:00

Before posting the conclusions of my last two entries, I thought it'd be fun to discuss some of the earliest memories I have. I've already talked about the time in kindergarten that I stank up the toilet as well as the day that I struck another student. Now here are some "all-new" memories:

I went to kindergarten and 1st grade at a school called Jefferson Elementary.

One week, every student at the school was given a card in which they could vote on which animal they'd like to be the new Jefferson mascot. I circled the one I wanted and was a bit disappointed when the pick I made didn't win.

Our PhyEd teacher looked a great deal like Charles Nelson Reilly.

During those years, I walked six blocks to school. On one cold morning, I arrived at the school to find the doors locked. Not seeing anybody inside, I walked back home. I told my mother what had happened. She looked through some papers in a kitchen drawer. A minute later, she found what she was looking for and told me that there was no school that day.

I sometimes walked to school with Ricky and/or Shelly Smith. I don't believe they were related. They just happened to have the same name. On one occasion, Ricky said he knew about a short cut to school. We went through some brush and railroad tracks to get there. I wasn't sold, so continued to take the conventional way.

One afternoon, on my way to school, I passed my uncle John; he worked at a factory called Wincraft and was sitting on the front stoop eating a sandwich. He said, "Hi" to me and smiled.

On another afternoon, I was walking home with my sister. As we approached the railroad tracks, I saw that a train was coming. Knowing I could make it across before the train came, I sped up a bit and asked my sister to do the same. Understandably feeling a bit nervous about the situation, she elected to wait. I easily made it across and then looked back at my sibling patiently waiting. Not wanting to wait for her, I resumed walking home.

In kindergarten, one afternoon, my teacher Mrs. Untiet was outside with us kids. She asked me why I'd be missing school for a couple days the following week. I didn't really know how to say that it was for a religious gathering. She kept asking things like, "Is it for a family reunion? Is it to see friends? Vacation?" I was so frazzled with all the kids around and feeling like I was being unfairly questioned that I began to cry.

My parents bought me a nice watch in 1st grade. It was green and my teacher, Ms. Whetstone, complimented me on it one morning.

Standing half a block from my house one day, an older teenager came up to me on the sidewalk and started conversing with me. At one point, he grabbed me so that I could not get away. I said that my mother was calling. I know mom and dad probably told me not to lie, but I think they'd understand in this case. The older boy said she wasn't calling, but let me go, anyway.

I went into the fridge one afternoon to get something to drink. There was a sippy cup, so I took a sip. I quickly spit it out when I realized that it was milk; I'm lactose and didn't suspect that that's what the sippy contained.

A fellow Jehovah's Witness gave each of us kids presents one evening. That was done, in part, to show that although Witnesses don't celebrate birthdays or Christmas, they would still be able to get gifts. This didn't end up happening as much as it should've. Nevertheless, on this night, I was given a small safe. Jim Dembraski, the gift bearer, showed me how to work the combination, but it was a bit complicated for my 6-year old mind to grasp. To help, he marked lines on the numbers that I was supposed to turn the knob to. I'm not sure what I ever put in that safe, but my siblings never figured out that an answer key to getting into it was staring them right in the face. At around this time, my parents also bought us a Holiday Inn playset.

My first crush was a girl named Courtney. At the tender age of 7, I fantasized that all the boys in our classroom were lined up and it was up to Courtney to choose the one she most wished to be with. There's no need to say that in this fantasy, she wound up choosing me. I saw her, for the first time in many years, in July of 2009, the occasion being our 20-year reunion. I desired to talk to her, but she hung close to the bar with her husband at her side and a beer in her hand. Just being able to look at her from time to time that evening brought me peace and a shot of nostalgia that I was able to live on for a few days.

The events I've just described transpired 35 years ago, an incredible amount of time. Despite this, I've come to realize that I'm never that far removed from the young boy who experienced them.

July 31, 2000 - Journal entry

2010-10-22T13:01:00.002-05:00

Much has changed in the last 6 months since I wrote in this journal. The reason I haven't written is because after we moved into our house, I lost track of this journal. I just noticed it lying on the basement floor yesterday afternoon. I read the previous entries with amusement, to say the least. They brought back a lot of memories.

Well, we did move into our home during the latter part of January. It didn't take too long to get used to it. I thought due to the smaller space, I wouldn't like it as much as the townhouse, but I do love it now.

We had a bit of a scare this morning. I woke up at about 5:30am wondering where Brandy (our Saint Bernard) was. She wasn't in the bathtub. She wasn't lying by the front door. I saw Zoe's leash hanging in the front door. That's the leash we've been using for Brandy because she broke hers. Dori likes to keep Brandy through the leash in the front yard late at night because it's easier to bring her in. That backfired today, though.

I didn't see her lying in the front yard. I opened the door and the leash was broken off. Dori said she left Bran out there and she had been out there quite a while. So, I told her that the horse was loose. I started walking down the sidewalk. I then realized that it would be more efficient to bike. I didn't think that she could have gone too far, but you never know. I was more concerned that someone may have taken her.

I needn't have worried. I saw her walking in back of our fence which is in our neighbors' back yard. Those neighbors are from Hidden Valley. So, I put the bike away and went to get her. Dori came out and helped me get Brandy. She was in another neighbors yard by then. She was walking with part of a leash around her neck. We brought her home. Dori thanked God as did I. Interesting morning, but things turned out good.

(Here she is, four years later)

Well, I don't work for Rochester Technical Services any longer. No, no more surfing the internet, no more transferring irates to Scott Ladwig, no more, "Western Digital Rebate Center, this is Tom, how can I help you?" Western Digital went with a more inexpensive rebate house in Young America. But we did get 2 weeks severance pay, which was pretty sweet. All's well that ends well. Paul Hegseth and company are closing up shop supposedly this week. I will miss that place But I am very thankful for the time (10 months) that I spent there.

I worked at Premiere Video South this past week.

I worked there Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday. My feet got mighty sore. Wearing dress shoes when you're standing for an all-day shift sucks, so I wore tennis shoes on Saturday. You see, on Thursday, the two people who came in to replace me were basically wearing white tennys. So, I did it myself on Saturday. My feet were still sore, but not as bad. It also sucks not getting a break when working weekdays. Therefore, working at Premiere isn't something I can or will do full-time, maybe not even part-time for very long.

But the free movies are sweet. "American Movie" was a hilarious documentary. I also got to see "Beethoven's 3rd" and "The Beach" before they were released on video. Premiere will be a supplemental job that I will be working 10-20 hours a week until it no longer suits me. I'd probably rather work at the North store, but there were no openings. The South store isn't quite as busy as I thought it would be, which is good. I'm making $6.50/hr which isn't great, but isn't bad.

(To Be Continued)

A Hike to Sugar Loaf

2010-10-19T13:39:00.000-05:00

My mother recently unearthed the following piece which I wrote for 12th Grade English. The assignment was to write a narrative, something that's turned into a specialty for me of late. Written in the spring of 1989, it is the true tale of a journey I'd recently made with my brethren:

It was Saturday morning. Looking outside, I saw that it was going to be a fine day. There were only a few clouds in the sky and a light breeze was blowing to the west. The sun was about halfway up the horizon. It was mid-April 1988. I was still getting used to the warm weather after months of snow and cold.

Suddenly, an idea came. I thought back to the summer of '87 when a friend had taken me up on a hike to Sugar Loaf.

I had never been to Sugar Loaf prior to that. My brothers had never been there before. Why not show them the sights and have a good time on a lovely Saturday afternoon?

One of my brothers, Mike, had invited someone to stay over the night before. This friend of his, Pat, would be staying until this afternoon, so why not invite him also and add to the fun? My brothers, Pat, and I, the five of us, could get some supplies together and hike up to Sugar Loaf and I could be the leader because I was the only one who had ever been up there before. I wondered if I still knew the paths that would lead to the top of the hill of Sugar Loaf. After all, I hadn't been up there for a year and I had only been up there once in my whole life. I decided to risk it.

I asked my brothers and Pat if they would like to go. I described the majesty of seeing Sugar Loaf up close and the spectacular view of the city below. They agreed, Pat being the most enthused about it. So we proceeded to get our supplies organized. We decided to bring a red, medium-sized backpack on our journey. It would carry 5 water bottles, 1 for each of us to drink from. We would also bring some Doritos along to eat. We figured that we could "crunch all we wanted". Doritos Co. would "still make more" (reference to Doritos' late-80's ad campaign). Finally, we brought a camera. I put it in a separate compartment in the backpack so that it would not get wet from the water bottles.

We made plans to leave at about 11am. It was agreed that I would lead the party, since I was the only one who knew the way and that I would carry the backpack for the duration of the much-heralded hike. We made final preparations and left. Sugar Loaf is about a mile from my house. We decided to walk there.

It was turning out to be a beautiful day. The sun was high overhead and an air of expectation could be felt throughout our small group. I pointed out Sugar Loaf and said, "Well, in about an hour, you boys will be standing right next to that rock". The boys couldn't wait.

(To Be Continued)

My 23-Year Old Self Tries to Get You to Feel Bad For Him

2010-10-13T15:26:00.002-05:00

Last week, I came across a paper I did in college called Stress: How Managers and Employees Can Deal With It. It opens by describing a job I had a number of years before. Since I've yet to talk about this particular position, I figured I'd just let the words I wrote back in 1994 tell the tale:

While attending Winona State in 1991, I found a part-time job at Sammy's Pizza in downtown Winona.

I worked two or three nights a week and was paid minimum wage. I was a kitchen worker who did dishes, sliced cheese, heated up spaghetti, ravioli, and lasagna, and also ran the chicken fryer.

I liked the kitchen because it was relatively quiet and I didn't have to worry about dealing with unruly customers. It was a decent job, but when it got busy on the weekends or on buffet nights, I had a tendency to get stressed out. I tried to stay relaxed, but with three or four things to do at once, it wasn't easy.

I usually got to take a half-hour break in the late evening, but if there was too much to do, I had to skip it, which made for a very long night. In other words, if we weren't busy, I could take a break, but if the restaurant was crowded, I just had to keep working and working. This caused me much anxiety, so I told management that I only wanted to work one or two nights. Many weekends I desperately wanted to quit when the work began to overwhelm me.

Last fall, I finally came to the end of my rope. I walked out (actually snuck out the back door) at about ten o'clock one evening. I just couldn't stand another minute. I was going through a major depression. The pain I felt can scarcely be expressed. I went to the bottom of the barrel and stayed there. But, through medication and therapy, I was able to claw my way out.

Rochester Post-Bulletin

2010-10-09T09:12:00.006-05:00

Referencing Barb Kasel's letter to the editor from Oct. 5, it's well-known that Christ makes no explicit judgment on homosexuality in the Bible; those who like to push an anti-gay agenda invariably turn to Deuteronomy to back them up.

If being gay is as much an outrage as some seem to think it is, it befuddles me why Jesus made no mention of it. Ultimately, Jesus' message was one of unconditional love.

Efforts to deny homosexuals the right to marry has led to situations where one party is not allowed to visit the hospital room of their partner, even when they are on their death bed, because they are not related. It's obvious in such cases what the most loving thing to do is. Similarly, some of the issues that the Catholic Church now faces could be alleviated, at least somewhat, by giving priests the right to marry.

To those who would say that marriage should only be between a man and a woman, I say that those of a different sexual orientation are no less committed to love and happiness than the rest of us. To put restrictions on who we may share our love with is antithetical to the kind of love that is attributed to Christ in the New Testament.

Thomas Dixon
Rochester

(link to article, which has more than 100 comments)

April 14, 1994 - Journal entry

2010-10-08T19:04:00.002-05:00

It rained all night as the thunder rolled across the valley. The boom of the storm reminded him of the unrest of his life. His grief was far-reaching and deep. The sky was cold and gray. Would the sun ever shine on him again?

He had tried to stop the rain, but it continued to fall endlessly. You can't change the past. You can only live and learn. Second-guessing wastes precious time. But the rain wouldn't let him forget. The sky and rain and trees seemed to merge into an ugly mass. He drifted off to sleep losing consciousness forever.

Miller Felpax

2010-10-03T13:56:00.002-05:00

My second job out of high school (you can read about the first here) was a summer position at a local factory called Miller Felpax. It was the summer of 1990, twenty years ago. During my interview, I told the supervisors that my wish was to work four days; even back then, I didn't see the point of putting forty hours in. The reason that I wanted Fridays off, however, had to do with me wanting to see all the cool new movies on opening day. Of course, I didn't tell the higher-ups that this was my reason for requesting the hours I did. As the interview ended, I was told that I couldn't wear the tennis shoes I had on; that the job required steel-toed boots.

Biking the two miles to work wearing those monstrous shoes definitely took some getting used to. For the first few days, over lunch, I biked the three blocks to my dad's house to have a sandwich and some chocolate. He liked seeing me, but the intrusion and the amount of food I ate behooved him to forbid me to come during these times for most of the duration of the summer.

For the first couple weeks, I did standard factory work that involved machines and trying not to look at the clock much. Break time was always welcomed. I mostly used the time to get a glass bottle of Orange pop out of the old-time machine. That stuff really hit the spot; keep in mind that this was the most taxing work I'd done thus far in my life.

On Friday, June 15th, me and my 10-year old cousin, Andy, went to "Gremlins 2: The New Batch". We had waited years to see the follow-up to the 1984 movie. Well, he probably didn't anticipate it as greatly as I as he was only 4 when his mom took him to it; she figured the Spielberg production would be as tame as his last film, "E.T". He had tons of nightmares from it and couldn't even go to the bathroom by himself for some time, so sure was he that a gremlin would get him when no one was around; this happened to a lot of kids, so much so that along with "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom", it helped bring about the PG-13 rating.

By summer 1990, however, he was healed and was more than happy to accompany me. I picked him up and we biked to the theatre. The film turned out to be more of a comedy than truly scary. One of my favorite lines is when the main character, Billy, gets off the elevator at a Trump-type corporation and is told by an automated female voice to "Have a powerful day".

One morning, later that month, I was cussed out by my main boss, Ed Becker, for not coming to work one morning when we received torrential rain; I wasn't going to bike in that.

I told him it wouldn't happen again. As time passed, I was given various odd jobs such as painting and sweeping. Two of the painters were also summer hires, in fact, they were fellow graduates of mine from the spring before. Dressed in their white jumpsuits, their job was to repaint the exterior of Felpax. One afternoon, I was asked to help, but the sun was so bright that I couldn't do so until I was given a pair of goggle sunglasses. Not too long after, my closest high school friend, Brian, was also hired. Becker said he hoped that Brian would be a harder worker than me. I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Days of Thunder" opened in late June and a friend of my brother's named Pat came over one weekday evening wanting me to accompany him to it. Now this wasn't because he was looking for my company. No, he was under the impression that "Thunder" was rated R, so was looking for an adult's supervision. I told him there was no way that "Thunder" was R and told him to hit the theatre. I found out some time later that he was behind the potato that was thrown through my outside living room window (it didn't damage the inner one). The caretakers wondered how I didn't hear the noise when it occurred. I said that I slept quite soundly and had a fan for white noise.

One morning, I was helping a man who was working one of the machines. While I stood and gave him the parts, the man, seated on a metal stool, put them through some kind of cutter. The boss came by a short time later and it was just then that the seated man stretched his back, grimaced, and said that his back was killing him, that a cushion or back rest would be much appreciated. Becker told him that work wasn't a place in which to be comfortable. My dislike for him grew a great deal on that day.

In early July, I saw "Die Hard 2: Die Harder"; the audience laughed on Letterman when Bruce Willis told them the movie's title.

Over a number of days, me and Brian painted a wire fence. To do so, we used gloves that allowed us to use our fingers to reach all portions of the fence. One morning, I was in front of the building and spilled a substance on the ground. I went inside to one of the bosses, Merlin, and told him what happened. He said he didn't believe it could be removed. My stomach sank. Thankfully, he was able to save my ass and get the residue out.

One day, Brian was assigned to go to the roof and paint some of the fixtures up there. Sometime later, Ed went up there to check on his progress. He found him just sitting there, meditating on the meaning of life, perhaps, not a bad idea as working there was hands down the worst job I ever had. I can still see Brian driving away a few minutes later, waving at me. I didn't find out until later that he had been fired.

I went to "Arachnophobia" in late July and enjoyed the Spielbergian overtures of the film. The audience was really into it.

On a number of occasions, Ed complained that he should've hired a guy who could put the full 40 hours in. One day, while working on a machine, it got stuck. I called for Ed who, as he fixed it, said, "Stupid people". Not too long after, he said he hoped that I'd end up finding a job in which I used my head (as opposed to my hands).

In August, I caught "Flatliners", a provocative movie dealing with death and its aftermath.

During my last few hours at Felpax, Ed had me take solids out of a large barrel filled with oil. Though he may have tried, he was unable to break my spirit. A week later, my stepdad mentioned how proud he was of the fact that I worked at a factory all summer. A couple years later, I saw in the paper that Becker had died. Me and Brian talked about our favorite memories of him before saying a prayer for the souls who were stuck with him in Hell.

I Don't Know What To Title This

2010-09-27T18:43:00.000-05:00

Today my employer went all-out and provided Little Caesar's Pizza for all to enjoy. I abstained, firstly, because I don't typically eat lunch, but also because I knew I was going to a pizza buffet just five hours later. My lady-friend went with me, but just had water. Is she dieting, you may ask?

I'll say! She's lost 28 pounds in the last four and a half weeks. You see, on the 24th of last month, she had gastric bypass surgery. Though 5'10" and under 250 pounds, pretty much all her fat accumulates around her stomach. Her cholesterol numbers were higher than John Lennon in the early 70's. I repeatedly asked if she was sure this was what she wanted. She assured me that she couldn't control her cravings on her own, that making her stomach smaller is what was required.

A couple weeks ago, she warned me not to feel competitive, not to get PO'd if her weight goes below mine. Where a few weeks ago, she was obese, now she is simply overweight. I can see her features being chipped away day by day, revealing the person I first came to love more than a dozen years ago, well before people got addicted to shit like FarmVille.

We saw a movie on Saturday: "The Town" starring and directed by Ben Affleck.

The reviews were phenomenal (more than 94% positive on Rotten Tomatoes), so I had high expectations, which actually wound up being surpassed. Taking place in Boston, it's a heist movie which doesn't give short shrift to character development. After the Facebook movie, the next one on my list is "Hereafter". Starring Ben's buddy, Matt Damon, and directed by Clint Eastwood, one of its big set pieces is the tsunami that killed more than 200,000 a few years ago.

And just to show that I'm not going soft, here is a text message that I sent to a friend today:

"Tom's head is so far up his ass that he can see Adam Lambert."

New Age Man in the Land of Sin

2010-09-24T12:12:00.001-05:00

Five years ago this November, I took my first (and so far, only) trip to Las Vegas. The occasion was to visit my wife's in-laws who moved there in 2003. I was looking forward to going somewhere where it'd be a bit warmer than Minnesota. As the plane took off in the mid-afternoon, the passengers were subdued. I passed the time listening to my CD headset. This was the first time I'd ridden in a plane since our honeymoon seven years before.

My first plane ride was at the age of three when my parents transported me and my younger sibling to the States after my father's tour was over with the Air Force. My mom said that I threw up as we flew over the Atlantic. Could it be that flying at 30,000 feet didn't sit well with my stomach? Was it the ear popping that compelled me to hurl? Or was it the fact that I would no longer be able to drink goat's milk, the main type of dairy that was available in Greece?

The mood lightened considerably as we drew closer to Sin City. It was as if at the beginning of the flight, the people were told that they might get laid that night, but it wasn't a sure thing. Two hours later, they KNEW they were getting some. As we obtained our luggage, there were signs everywhere for various shows that were playing in town. Celine Dion's was probably the biggest at the time, one that we looked forward to attending in a few days (it was a late anniversary present from her parents).

Our brother-in-law drove us to my wife's parents house where we would be staying for the duration. They lived in a community in which all members had to be at least 55. I shudder to think of how much Viagra existed there per capita. Perhaps not coincidentally, there was a CVS pharmacy located just a few blocks away. All the houses were just one level so that the elder set would never again have to climb stairs. The name of the cable company out there was Cox which was ridiculously appropriate for a state in which brothels are legal. The next day was Thanksgiving. A good meal and time was had by all.

On the day after that, we were driven past the Strip, through New York, New York, gay Pari, and the Lion at the MGM Grand. There was a monstrous Christmas tree placed at one spot. We parked near Paris and while the guys gambled, I went shopping with the girls. Much to my chagrin, smoking was allowed inside Paris. I thought that went a tad far. They should've just gone all the way and had hookers on the street corners, too.

Later, I went with my sister-in-law to New York where we rode the roller coaster.

Priced at close to ten bucks, I got a bit of a crick in the neck from it. As we went out to eat that evening, I saw the first of three Vegas cliches, a bride and groom who had just been married. The other two, which I saw over the next couple days, were an Elvis impersonator and a guy with a cowboy hat counting his money as he came out of the casino.

The next night, we saw Celine at Caesar's. I would've much preferred to be seeing Paul McCartney who was playing at the same time at the MGM, but there wasn't much I could do about it. As we strolled to our seats, I noticed that 16 ounce bottles of Celine water were for sale. The five dollar price tag put me off of them, however. Though I'm not the hugest fan, she had quite a good show. After some time off, she's returning to Vegas for another extended stay next year. In the gift shop afterwards, it was an estrogen fest as women stocked up on Celine discs and perfumes.

The following night, we spent a bit of time in Downtown Vegas. We passed the area where the strip had originally started and saw old-school places like the Sahara (which has a camel as its logo). During the ride, my brother-in-law explained to my wife how to play Texas Hold Em. If it hasn't already become apparent, I have no interest in gambling. While downtown, we saw a number of acrobats doing their shtick about 30 feet in the air as techno music played.

On one of our last days, I was able to convince my father-in-law to take me to a place I might enjoy: a used record shop. While there, I bought Jerry Seinfeld's "I'm Telling You For the Last Time" and the Symbol's multi-disc "Crystal Ball".

Later, we went to Vegas's biggest souvenir shop. On the way there, I saw a homeless man begging for money at the intersection. I rolled down my window and gave him a couple bucks when my wife and father-in-law weren't looking. They figured he was just gonna spend the money on boos or drugs. If I was homeless, I'd probably do the same in order to forget the pain. We found jack shit at the store, but I didn't have a problem with having more money in my wallet. That evening, we went to a restaurant called Terrible's. It was located inside a casino which was also called Terrible's.

Despite the name, I found the food to be quite palatable.

The next day, we headed back to Minnesota. I can't say that going to Vegas dissuaded me much from the opinion that it's overrated; I had more fun watching "The Hangover", but at least I can say that I've been there.

The Nard Dog

2010-09-20T15:38:00.002-05:00

Sharing an apartment with an adolescent Saint Bernard is no mean feat as this video from 1999 attests. The music I had playing on the stereo probably exacerbated things.

Phy Ed

2010-09-03T21:02:00.001-05:00

Me and Physical Education had quite the relationship during my school days. One of my earliest joys was playing kickball in grade school, though I was often picked last (or close to last). One afternoon, I asked a guy in the grade above me if I could join in. He said I could, but that if I flew out, I was off the team. Wonder of wonders, I popped it up and was outta there. And, of course, there was the time that I REALLY popped it up. Click here if you're not familiar with the story.

Some of my classmates could really make it sail, so much so that the outfielders would have to go down a steep decline that went into a creek. It was quite dangerous when I look back on it, but, hey, it was the 80's. The janitor, Les Schmoker, could be seen every few days on the roof of the school throwing down rubber balls that had "unintentionally" been kicked up there.

In the 6th grade, I was able to join an exclusive club of guys who played football off to the side in the school's driveway. Two of them were Jason and Russell Speltz. They were really into sports and it felt good to be able to play with them. It certainly helped my self-esteem having been a bit of a loner the years before in no small part because of my shyness. One afternoon, while playing, I saw my mom tending the garden in our backyard; our house was located across the street and a few houses over.

On a lazy summer evening, I was playing football in our backyard with David Rinn when an older fellow named Tom Jacobi who had been bullying me passed by on his bike. My dad, aware of the situation, managed to get him to stop and told him to cease doing these things to his progeny. Tom appeared to take it well, but when he was about 30 feet away on his bike, he loudly said: "Fucker!!" My dad yelled, "Come back here and say that, Big Boy!" He was PO'd at being swore at by a snot-nosed high school kid. I found out later that Tom got in serious trouble with his mother for all the mischief he caused. I only wish that he was on Facebook so that we could have a laugh over the long-ago incident.

I was in for a rude awakening in 7th grade. We were required to wear a gym uniform (T-shirt and shorts). What's worse is that men were compelled to wear a cup. I was full of anxiety as I put the cup on followed by the uni. We walked a few blocks to the closest park where I saw an old friend from 1st grade named Shelly Smith (I'm really dropping the names here, aren't I?). The reason I remember this is because at the time we were all sitting in a circle doing stretches. I became self-conscious as I realized that some of the girls could see my cup. I resolved that day to never again wear one.

Another uncomfortable aspect of junior high Phy Ed occurred shortly thereafter as we hit the showers. Me and one of the Farrell twins were looking to get out of doing so, but an instructor said that we must do so. With our "tails" between our legs, we did as we were told. I didn't even really soap myself off, I was so self-conscious. My mindset wasn't helped by the guy who seemed to glance at every guy's dick as he threw a towel at them.

Still more trauma was experienced during the two weeks we had swimming. It wasn't so much that I didn't know how to swim, but that I had to wear what amounted to a pair of Speedo trunks.

I was all too eager to get into the pool so that others wouldn't be able to see my all-but-bare 13-year-old body. One morning, as I sat at the toilet at home, I cursed the fact that of the seven days of the week it could be, it just happened to be one of the two in which I would have to "swim".

My last year of Phy Ed was 10th grade; it wasn't required in 11th or 12th. One sunny day, they had us run around the smaller portion of Lake Winona (it's pictured below with the school behind it).

I was surprised at how much I put into it, doing my best to keep up with some of the stronger and more fit guys on the team. The coach, Mr. Kendrick, was so impressed that he asked if I'd be interested in joining the track team. I said I'd consider it, but later declined; one of the things I didn't like about running was how out of breath it made a person.

College required that we take just two Phy Ed classes. The first I opted for was Personal Fitness. I was suprised that first day when Mr. Gunnar said that we only needed to attend that first class if we covered a certain amount of ground in 10 minutes. We couldn't run, though, it had to be walking; walking fast was fine. Excited at the possibility of getting an easy A, I walked with alacrity. I felt sorry for some of the chunkier girls. It appeared that they'd be seeing Mr. Gunnar weekly for the next couple months. This other lady was able to finish ahead of me, but I was close behind.

A couple years later, I took Bowling. Also taught by Gunnar, there was no option that if you scored over 150 that first day, you'd be scot-free for the rest of the quarter. I'm kind of glad that wasn't the case, however, as I had a great time bowling with my classmates. Cups and showers seemed a lifetime ago as I rolled that ball down the lanes that Winona State had in the Student Union area.

We got out of one of the classes because Gunnar's mom died and another because he just didn't show up; his woman probably ditched him. I polished a split one morning and was beaming as Gunnar saw it and said, "Great shot!" The last day, we did a written test on the basics of the game which I had no problem with. I confess to being a tad melancholic as I left the alley that day.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 5

2010-08-27T20:13:00.003-05:00

I made sure to get up plenty early on Monday morning, the last day of the conference. For Neale's all-day, I wanted to be as close as possible. As I prepared to take my luggage to the car, I took a look at the TV and marveled at how I hadn't watched it on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. Since I hadn't been on the internet, either, I was under a media blackout of sorts. If a speaker talked about something that had recently happened in the world, I was totally clueless and liked it that way. I also hadn't really had any time to be outside or to be among those of a non-spiritual bent (though the hotel employees could be considered such, they blended in so well that it was easy to forget).

I was in line for Neale's seminar at about 8:10am, 50 minutes before it was to begin. A lady walked past and said, "Are you holding up the line for Neale?" I said, "Yes" and added, in a nod to "Misery", "I'm his number one fan". We were let in around 8:35. I walked quickly up front where I got a front row seat just a few feet from where he would be speaking. In the pic below, you can see Neale to the right of the whiteboard (just to the right of the bald man) and me (wearing a blue shirt) close by:

He had lots of new stuff. Doncha hate it when you go to see a comedian and he just regurgitates the same old shtick? Like last summer, Neale went over the ins and outs of the Mechanics of the Mind and the System of the Soul, but there was plenty of time to go into other areas. Early on, a younger man asked what reality is. I smiled as Neale said that there was no such thing as objective reality. He mentioned that spending 6 hours with him might seem like a lot, especially compared to the 90-minute sessions he'd given earlier in the weekend, but that we would only be exposed to about 6% of the totality of what he'd like to share.

He said that he can afford to not give workshops, but that after a few weeks at home, he gets the craving to share what he's learned (remembered) with as many people as possible. He discussed the figure 8 from his When Everything Changes book; this showed how it is that we go from ultimate reality to the physical reality we now inhabit. Many belief systems, he said, profess that it is possible to go from one realm to another, but not that we get to go back and forth as many times as we want.

At one point, Neale thought it'd be good to have the whiteboard raised from the floor to the platform so that all could see it. He asked that me and another man come up so that the board could be moved. We lifted it up and as the other guy moved a table from the platform to the floor and I was getting ready to sit down, Neale said, "Tom, move that chair out of the way. Snap to it!" I quickly did as I was told. Pretty cool, I thought, to be taking orders from a best-selling author.

Later, he talked of ways to get in touch with the divine, one being taking 10 seconds when you're in the middle of doing something and just stopping. He illustrated this by stopping talking in the middle of a sentence and not speaking again until 10 seconds later. I've tried this one myself and it is quite potent. Not sure how good it would go over when one is having sex.

Later in the morning, while writing on the board, he said, "Those who were thinking we were going to be having a morning break, NA NA NA NA NA NA!!" A little after noon, we were given 90 minutes for lunch. A salad buffet was served and unlike Friday's lunch, this time it was Caesar salad which is much more my cup of tea.

The dessert chocolate was much too rich, however; speaking to how we experience reality differently, the women I was with said it was heavenly. Shortly before returning to the conference room, I stopped in the bathroom where I saw Michael Tamura. Wouldn't you know it, while he was trying to go, someone started talking to him and began peppering him with questions. Tamura took it in stride.

Neale had lots of really cool asides, such as when he talked about how nothing is ever deleted on a computer. It can be put into a recycle bin and the recycle bin can be emptied, but it's all still there. He said the soul is the same way. Plenty of laughs were generated when he said that FEAR stands for Fuck Everything And Run. He talked about how our brains had evolved over time, from the reptillian one, which simply reacts, to the mammalian one. In some way, he said, it would be less complicated if we still had just the mammalian one. A lions roars, for example, but it doesn't second-guess itself afterward, thinking, "Maybe I shouldn't have roared at those lions. Perhaps I was out of line".

He also spoke to those who believe that they are unworthy of God; "The sun is a part of God, the trees are a part of God, the flowers are all a part of God, but God ends at your body", he said facetiously. He had some great words on the value of having things in this world that we don't agree with, on how it is necessary for there to be the opposite of what you think you are in order for you to decide and declare who you wish to be. This made me see the good in having someone like Sarah Palin around.

As our time started winding down, he said that forgiveness is not necessary if there is understanding. That is, if you can understand why someone might do the thing that they did that makes you think they need to be forgiven. He also said that all the things we believe in, we're making up. For many years, the Catholic Church required that no one eat meat on Fridays. How did this come to be? Someone made it up. It's professed by some in the Islam faith that martyrs will get 72 virgins in heaven. Where did that come from? Someone made it up. The Jehovah's Witnesses believe it is immoral to get a blood transfusion. Again, someone made it up and the sadness is that millions actually believe it. Of course, this means I'm also making up my own beliefs, but I feel it's better to err on the side of unconditional love over orthodoxy.

Neale concluded by saying that God doesn't make any mistakes, that all circumstances you encounter are for your highest growth and that the game never ends. His wife (Em Claire) ended with a beautiful poem. Here's a portion of it:

"Go Outside and play!" said God. "I have given you Universes as fields to run free in! And here - take this and wrap yourself in it - It's called: LOVE and It will always, always keep you warm. And stars! The sun and the moon and the stars! Look upon these often, for they will remind you of your own light! I have given you everything you need. Now go, go, go outside and play!"

The Summer of 1996

2010-08-24T17:56:00.000-05:00

It was 14 years ago this summer that I met my wife-to-be; let me take you back to those not-so-innocent days. The first time I went into her apartment, I saw her kitten sauntering out of the bedroom. Once she saw me, a stranger in her place, she turned around and high-tailed it back to the bedroom; she would've slammed the door behind her if she'd had the means.

In those days, my girl was on the notorious prescription drug(s), Phen-Fen. It had helped her lose a good deal of weight. She ate extremely healthily, much more than me. One evening, she made us some Boca (no meat) burgers. They were awful, but I didn't tell her that. She never wanted to accompany me to one of my favorite restaurants, Taco John's, because they didn't have any low-fat menu items. One evening, she said, "Screw it" and went to Burger King with me where she had a Whopper; Lord knows she wasn't getting that in the bedroom.

I knew I had her in the palm of my hand when she started stocking food items that were my favorites, in particular, a 2-liter of Sunkist that sat on top of the fridge. One of my favorite things to do at her place was play solitaire on the computer. Her bedroom had a twin on the floor and one up on a loft. I never asked, but they must've been a residue from her dorm days. On some evenings, when she was at work and I was bored as sin, I snooped around her things.

One thing that bothered me a bit in those days was that she wouldn't go to bed at the same time I did; she liked to stay up late. Her favorite song at the time was Robert Miles' electronic classic, "Children". We took turns in her car listening to our favorite radio stations; I preferred country, she, dance/pop.

The first movie we went to together was "Phenomenon" starring John Travolta, the second, "Jack" starring Robin Williams. Coincidentally, she watched a movie last week which starred both of them: "Old Dogs". We went to a matinee of "A Very Brady Sequel" a couple weeks later where we were the only ones in attendance.

On one late summer evening, we took a walk around the bike path at Lake Winona (we initially met very close by). About 10 minutes in, it started pouring, so we ran back to the car. It's the kind of scene you'd see in a formulaic romantic movie.

During this period, I was reading "When Bad Things Happen To Good People" by Harold Kushner. I don't specifically remember this; I saw the book on the floor in one of the pictures taken at the time.

That fall, she attended graduate school where she was assigned a report for Human Development, a psychology course. The instructor said that a video report would be great for those who had camcorders. She ran the idea by me and I was all too happy to help. Here are the first few moments:

Movie Facts

2010-08-22T19:46:00.001-05:00

As a 10-year old, my dream job was to be a movie usher. I loved buying a ticket and being captive for two hours to a story that would transport me to another time and place. Ushering would put me as close as I could possibly get to celluloid, without moving to Hollywood, of course. I didn't let other people's availability affect my moviegoing habits. Since seeing "Raiders of the Lost Ark" on my own in 1981, I was more than accustomed to going to a show on my own.

I would typically go to Snyder Drug beforehand to get some candy to chew on during the movie; in most cases, it would be SweeTarts or Tart & Tinys. I made sure to get to the theatre a good half hour before showtime in order to ensure getting my favorite seat (located on the side in the back row). At the time, Winona's theatre consisted of 4 screens. To the right of the ticket counter, a poster for a movie that was yet to come was always posted. On many occasions, I would smile looking at it, usually a sequel that I wasn't aware was on its way.

I was never big on popcorn, so skipped the concession stand. Once in a great while, I would play Centipede. It never lasted long, though, as I wasn't very good at it. After going to the bathroom, I would pick up a brochure called Movie Facts, a publication still in existence; it was seeing it at the theatre last week that compelled this post.

Browsing it gave me something to do while waiting for the show to start. Reading the list of movies with short synopsis, I was apprised of what was on the horizon. Next, I looked at the celebrity profiles. Hopefully, by then, there were a number of people in the theatre. Back then, there was no before-show commercials, just silence which was gradually erased as more people arrived.

Sometimes I would be disappointed at the paucity of people who showed for an opening night presentation. On other evenings, the place was so crowded that I had to bear someone sitting next to me. Of course, when a relatively young woman sat at my side, I wasn't quite as bothered. I wouldn't start in on the candy until the movie started or, if I was itching for it, then the previews.

In the late 80's, two attractive girls in the class behind me worked at the ticket counter. One of the girls had sat in front of me in Algebra class. One afternoon, before class, sitting at my desk, she walked in and sang, "Hey Good Lookin, Whatcha got cookin, How about cooking something up for me...." I smiled, but always wondered if she'd been talking about me or some radical dude she'd met the night before.

Enter To Grow In Knowledge

2010-08-20T23:48:00.001-05:00

The first library I remember going to was the one at my elementary school. It wasn't very big, but there were still plenty of tomes that interested me. The paperback rack had titles like "Toby Tyler" and "The Search for Planet X".

(I was captivated by the thought that there might be another planet beyond Pluto, which it turns out is not a planet after all).

One afternoon, a classmate named Jeff checked out an illustrated book about mythology. Noting the photographs of nude sculptures in it, a girl named Vicky said to him, "I know why you're getting that". A number of boys in my class were into the NFL, so liked to look at Football Digest. One of the books had two pictures of Johnny Carson in it. One showed what he looked like on TV, the other what he saw when he looked in the mirror.

I spent a great deal more time at the Senior High library. It's where I hung out while classmates were eating their lunch. I had a perfect spot in which to sit. It was at a table that had a bunch of reference books on its top shelf; the books perfectly obscured my face so that people generally couldn't see me. It was also much less distracting for me, not having to lift my head every time someone crossed my peripheral vision. One of my favorite things to look at were the World Almanac and the Information Please Almanac (I saw the latter at the public library recently and had to chuckle).

A guy who was one year ahead of me came through the library one afternoon, coughing loudly. He quickly left, but not before saying, "Smoker's cough..." I laughed for a number of seconds after hearing that one and it left such an impression that here I am describing it more than two decades later. A dude who apparently didn't like the look of my face once came up to me and asked if I'd heard the hit country song by Hank Williams Jr. called "Attitude Adjustment". He said that that's what I needed. In my last week there, I picked up the day's newspaper to read the review of "Indiana Jones & The Last Crusade". They panned it, but I just couldn't believe that Spielberg was gonna let me down. That evening, I went to it and was quite impressed.

During my early college days, I sought to find out what was up with the bloke that some refer to as God. I headed to the Winona Public Library and started with Raymond Moody's seminal 70's work, "Life After Life".

It dealt with a topic that hadn't been discussed much before then, the Near-Death Experience. Reading similar works by Moody afterward led me to believe that something was definitely going on.

The thing that really sold it, in my mind, were the profound changes that these people experienced after their NDE. How could they no longer be afraid of death? No longer concerned about having a job or money? Some probably wouldn't believe until they'd had the actual experience, but the thousands of reports persuaded me that when we die, we are opened up into new worlds. It was amusing reading reports of people who were atheists wondering how in the world they could still be existing, looking back on their still body.

After not going to the library for a number of years in the mid '00's because I didn't like the idea of having to return books, I started up again last winter and have been greatly enriched by it. My old friend, Tim, said awhile back that he was constantly reading books. I doubted that there were works out there that I'd be interested in reading. I've been pleasantly proven wrong, however.

Today, after getting a massage, I had one hour to find three good tomes at the public library. I went to the God section and after a couple minutes of browsing, found "Fingerprints of God". Happy that I'd found a compelling title, I headed for the music section, but not before glancing down at the bottom shelf of the new release table and seeing a book called "Thriller: The Musical Life of Michael Jackson". It deals with the making of one of the most influential recordings of all time, "Thriller", a disc I listen to to this day.

Finally, seeing a copy of it in the audiobook section and thinking it might be interesting to read, I checked out "Bait and Switch: The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream". This same author recently released a book called "Bright-Sided" whose subtitle is that Positive Thinking is Undermining America. That might be one to look at later this year.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to bring back the card catalog...

Back Into the Way-Back Machine

2010-08-16T13:55:00.003-05:00

Some have wondered how it is that I have such detailed access to events that have occurred in my life. I don't have a stack of journals in my basement; it comes almost exclusively from memory. The fastest way for me to access them is by seeing myself in a specific place.

For instance, if I project myself into my childhood bedroom, I can recall the time I played "Doctor" with a girl whose parents were friends with my parents. As she laid on the bed, I touched her bare chest. Suddenly I heard the door open, so quickly put my hand in my lap as if we had simply been conversing. Looking into my sister's bedroom, I see the diary she used to keep. It had a lock, but she didn't always put it to use. Curiosity compelled me to look at it a "couple" times.

Going into the dining room, I remember an evening in 1982 in which my cousin mentioned that the title of the upcoming Star Wars movie was going to be "Revenge of the Jedi", except he didn't pronounce Jedi correctly; he called it Jeedee. I enjoyed playing the children's version of the Jokers Wild game there.

One afternoon, as I read the novelization of "The Empire Strikes Back" at the dining room table, I came across a word I'd not heard before; "countenance" (it was referring to Princess Leia's face).

Heading upstairs to my parents' bedroom, I see the evening in which I, laying in a twin bed, dared my sister and brother, laying in a queen-size, to take their clothes off underneath the covers. They did so, but a moment later my father came into the room, saying that he heard what we'd been talking about through the vent; I suspect he was listening in standing next to the closed door. He gave a good little talk about how being naked is a sacred thing, something to be shared with another at a later time. Properly chided, I talked to my siblings about other topics.

Taking a look into the upstairs bathroom, I can see the time that my mom chewed me out because I'd left my underwear in there; we'd had a lady who was doing fix-up work for us and she must've had a gander. To this day, I wonder if they had skid marks.

Heading into my father's den, I see him doing some accounting work as the portable heater blows and a Gene Watson record plays. I visit for a few minutes before leaving him to his work.

Now, it's morning. I just woke up and am still in my pajamas. I bring the Saint Paul Pioneer Press in and browse it as I sit Indian-style next to the living room heater. Bill Diehl has a movie column that I read a couple times a week. After having pancakes for breakfast, I set off on my bike, eager for the next adventure.

Waiting For Godot

2010-08-13T15:00:00.001-05:00

At this moment, I'm on top of the world and I don't mean that euphemistically (though I am happy to have today off). I am on the 18th floor of the Mayo Clinic; my love has a number of appointments here this afternoon. One side of this floor looks circa 1960's with old-fashioned chairs and only magazines to pass the time. There are a couple of Amish folks waiting to be seen. I did just observe something new, however. Instead of the nurse coming out and saying the patient's name when the time has come for their appointment, the patient is given a pager when she first checks in and it is then buzzed when magic time arrives.

The other side of the floor was built in the early '00's, so has lots of comfortable chairs, a number of widescreen TV's, and internet access. Despite this, everyone I'm looking at has their face stuck into a printed rag. From time to time, someone will gaze out the window at downtown Rochester. By rights, they should have exercise equipment here for people to utilize while waiting, but I suppose it's a liability issue. Sitting is not a very healthful thing to encourage, though. If people spent all their time in a chair reading, health would surely decline and that's not even including the lethargy that occurs.

An announcement was just made on the overhead speakers that a thunderstorm watch has been declared. I recognize the woman on the intercom; she's a friend on Facebook who I worked with from 2000-2004. I spent the first half hour of my time downtown walking to a number of places. I stopped by the library for a time, then strolled through the Civic Center where the Jehovah's Witnesses will be meeting this weekend. Next, I took a brief respite at Barnes & Noble where they have employees camped out at the entrance, eager to talk patrons into purchasing the Nook (an e-reader).

Myriads and Myriads of Songs

2010-08-12T13:40:00.002-05:00

A number of weeks ago, as my wife and I waited at the car dealership for the paperwork to go through on her new car, I remembered that she had received an iPod nano earlier in the year as a 40th birthday present. She'd intended to use it when working out, but the car accident had made her trips to the gym become much less frequent.

Having nothing else to do (it was too hot out to walk), I dug into her purse and took a look at the tracks that had been downloaded by her brother-in-law. I chuckled as I saw that Lady Gaga's "Love Game", one of my favorites, was on there. I listened to it and then moved on to Kanye West's "Stronger". More than 1500 songs were on the device, mostly pop music that ranged from the 50's to present day.

A few days later, as I walked in a park while waiting for her to get through with a doctor's appointment, I found some great 80's gems on it: Simple Minds' "Alive and Kicking", Dwight Twilley's "Girls", and Mick Jagger's "Just Another Night", a song that was rolling through my head as I worked yesterday.

I started to see the value of utilizing such a contraption on a day-to-day basis. One thing I didn't like were the white put-em-in-your-ear buds. They didn't have the dynamic sound I was used to getting with my cover-the-entire-ear-itself phones. I was pleasantly surprised to find that my bigger headphones fit in the iPod's headphone port.

The last hurdle to truly enjoying it was adding some of my favorite tunes (I have more than 500 CD's). As I've noted a number of times in the past, I've never downloaded a song. This is no longer the case. I went to iTunes recently and, over the past few weeks, have put dozens of tracks from my personal collection onto the nano.

It's remarkable to me all the places in which I can use it. I listen to it when going out to play with the dog, when eating out on my own, at the movie theatre waiting for the show to start, doing grocery shopping, browsing for books at the library, taking a walk on my lunch break, posting to this site, and so on.

The only potential downside is the Nano's color:

But Lord knows it wouldn't be the first time that someone thought I was a Batty Boy.

Puppy Love

2010-08-06T14:48:00.004-05:00

In the summer of 1983, my mom was no longer an active Jehovah's Witness; she said she no longer believed in it. It was during this time that my dad, along with his female Witness business partner, took us kids to the yearly convention in Wisconsin. We had the good fortune to be going with a couple girls who were my age. They would certainly make the trip much more interesting.

My dad's friend really knew how to drive in style; she had a blue Cadillac. On one occasion, in that huge back seat, we passed a city sign that said: Pop. 1532. I asked her what Pop. meant and she explained it to me. If I spent too much time in that car, I grew to feel quite nauseous. I don't recall ever barfing in it, however.

After several hours of driving that first day, we arrived at the hotel. The girl who was closest to my age, Melanie, had a conversation with me in the back of the Cadillac; my dad and the rest had headed to the office to check in. I was chewing on a large piece of gum. She mentioned that one of the reasons she was taking Spanish that fall was because she liked the idea of being able to swear at others in a different language.

At one moment, a huge piece of saliva (from the gum) came out of my mouth and fell onto her hand. I felt humiliated as she wiped the back of her hand on the underside of the car seat. We talked for another minute or two before heading into the hotel.

As day turned to night, my siblings and the two girls had great fun talking and watching TV. One of the movies that played as we visited was "Zapped" a cheese-tastic 80's flick which starred Scott Baio and Willie Aames. There'd be less time for fun the next day, but I was still looking forward to it.

We got up nice and early and headed to the center where the assembly for area Jehovah's Witnesses was taking place. We would be among hundreds of others who had the exact same views as us; one is not allowed to question the Witnesses' beliefs once baptized with them (even when the head honchos decide to change their minds about various issues; they call this "new light").

The real fun was had that evening as we looked for a place to eat. As we drew closer to the city's restaurant row, one of my favorite songs came on the radio: The Tubes' "She's A Beauty". To this day, listening to it takes me back to that summer evening.

We ended up eating at Showbiz Pizza, a choice I was ecstatic with as they had video games there. One of the newest games was Dragon's Lair. Instead of having typical video game graphics, it was animated like a cartoon. They also had MACH 3 which was a breakthrough game in that it used actual footage shot in a desert.

All this new technology made me happy that I was growing up when I was.

The next day, it was back to the assembly. Something interesting happened to me while there. I was sitting next to Melanie watching a drama; this is when Witnesses put on clothes from Biblical times and act out various things that occurred in the Bible.

At one point, I felt her foot on mine. I moved mine away, figuring she had accidentally moved hers there. A minute later, she again put her foot on mine. This time, I kept mine in place and quite enjoyed the sensation. I was now certain that she liked me (despite the saliva incident) and it felt great.

Later, we ate at Bobs' Big Boy where I had a juicy burger. Four of us kids had a booth to ourselves. As was typical in those days, there was a jukebox in which popular songs of the day could be played; Melanie played a popular country-pop song called "Snapshot".

As we headed home and I saw her resting on the other side of the car, my feelings were bittersweet. I was joyous that someone was taking an interest in me, but sad that we probably wouldn't be able to spend much time together in the months ahead; school would be starting soon.

As we drew closer to Winona, I saw a light coming from Sugar Loaf (it's the rock that's pictured on the cover of my book). I then remembered recently hearing that lights had been installed there; it was nice to see it all lit up. Melanie was woken up by our murmuring and though tired, also marveled at the sight. Though our trip was now over, I'd had a taste of love and looked forward to getting more of it in the future.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 4

2010-08-01T17:48:00.001-05:00

It took me a while to get to sleep on Saturday night, in no small part, I'm sure, because of the full day I had. Thus, when my alarm went off at around 7, I decided that I would miss the first speaker or two of the day. It wouldn't be a huge loss, I thought, after seeing five speakers the day before. Something made me get up and take a shower, however, and I'm glad I did. As I left the room, I again attached the "Tranquility" sign to the door. I felt no need for housekeeping to clean the sheets or switch out towels for the entire time I was there.

Debbie Ford, whose primary claim to fame is as a proponent of bringing forth our shadow self, that is, the parts of us that we don't want others to know about, came out just before 8:30am. I can be seen in the 2nd row of the picture below wearing my Buddhist-monk-wannabe orange long-sleeved shirt. Debbie is standing at the keyboard next to a redheaded musician.

There was an even smaller percentage of men in Ford's clinic than there was for the conference at-large. Nonetheless, I was quite interested in learning about the Dark (Shadow) Side. I wasn't as taken with her humor as others, but that's probably because her jokes favored a different sense of humor, the type that women typically get more out of.

One of her main points is that if we repress any part of ourselves, that aspect seeks to be expressed in some way. It's best, she said, to claim that part of yourself and to let it speak. Over the last 20 minutes, we did an exercise where we took a part of ourselves that we didn't like and told it that we loved it, that we understood why it did the things it did. I could hear tears being shed as the meditation continued.

The most cathartic was the ending when Ford told us to embrace the person next to us and say, "My love for you is unconditional". I melted into the young lady next to me and we held each other for at least 30 seconds. I didn't know that person, but I couldn't help but feel deep love for her. It was remarkable. Ford then told us to hug another, then still others. The room was healing before my very eyes and I could now see why so many felt that Ford was da bomb.

Afterward, I had her sign my copy of her first book, a book that I never finshed, but may complete now that I've seen what she's capable of. She asked what I thought of the exercise. I said, in a somewhat clinical tone, "It was very effective. Thank you".

The next big shot I was scheduled to see was Michael Traub, a guy who was said to be able to channel a spirit named O'Brien. I wanted, however, to see Michael Tamura again. He had given me so many laughs the day before that I wanted more. Walking to where people were letting him in, I saw that it wasn't just any old volunteer looking to see if the people coming in had Tamura's name on it. No, it was the lady in charge of the whole kit and kaboodle.

Not wanting to mess with her, I headed over to see the other Michael. I found a seat in the 3rd row and looked forward to seeing a real-life channeler. Traub described how he cultivated the ability to do this, to allow a spirit to take over and speak through him while he, Traub, was in, as he described it, some type of blissful netherworld.

We were warned that O'Brien had a very playful sense of humor which was more than fine with me. Traub said that people shouldn't ask him after it was over what he thought about the session as he would have no idea what they were talking about. When he opened his eyes, he said, it would be like if someone woke you up from a nap, but with dozens of people looking at you. The more he talked about the process, the more I wanted to experience O'Brien and let me tell you it was quite a treat.

At first, just a few hands went up, but when the audience realized that they might be able to get answers to spiritual questions they'd been having about their life and loved ones, more than half the room had their hands outstretched. I raised my hand not once the entire weekend. I had no questions at all. I was, as the kids like to say, "Good".

One thirty-something black man asked what he might do to have a more rewarding life. O'Brien said that he doesn't typically say this, but that the man would benefit most from a long-term relationship. A lady who came with her twin asked if they had been together in previous lifetimes. O'Brien said, "Yes", and that they would continue to do so, that having a twin was one of the closest relationships possible. An older lady was wondering if she'd ever find Mr. Right. O'Brien said, "Are you familiar with ----?" (the man who needed to get into a relationship pronto). Another asked if her family's business would be up and running by 2011. He said, "Yes, you will get the business off the ground before the world is destroyed" (alluding to the 2012 predictions). I laughed heartily at that one. He talked about going "on-line" as if he were only vaguely familiar with it, almost as if it were still a somewhat unknown thing in the spirit world.

Someone asked about a car accident and O'Brien said that sometimes "accidents" happen, that the person who died in the crash hadn't intended to. This was news to me as I'm of the belief that nothing happens without the soul's permission, if you will. Something happening that's not supposed to, would, in my mind, make it seem as if God had made a mistake, which I don't think is possible. But that's just me. I was all smiles as Traub came out of the trance to much applause. I was asked later if what Traub did appeared to be authentic. I said that it did.

After a light lunch, it was time for another 90 minutes with Neale. Again, he came out early to greet others. I was pleased that he had some stuff I hadn't heard before. He mentioned "The Secret", probably the biggest-selling "spiritual" book of the last few years. He felt that it relied too much on getting material things. It showed a guy manifesting a new car, a woman getting diamonds, and even a kid getting a shiny bike. I chuckled as he said these things as I'd had the same problem with the book. Neale asked where the wishes were for world peace, for loving everyone, for sharing with others as opposed to obtaining.

He concluded with three ways that the kingdom of God could be brought to the Earth: first, by looking into another's eyes for more than three seconds. Just then, I looked back at a woman for a few seconds. I didn't really do it the way Neale intended, though, as I also tilted my head a bit like Larry David does when he's looking into a person's eyes to see if they're lying to him. Guess I'll have to work on that. The second step is to smile at that person. "This is dangerous stuff", he said. Finally, if appropriate, touch that person. A simple touch on the shoulder can do wonders for the recipient, especially if they are having a rough day, or life, for that matter.

As he signed books a short time later, I asked if I could have a pic taken of he and me. His wife said, "Do you want the three of us or just the big guy?" I said the three of us would be great and so it was done.

As I waited in line, a short time later, for Deepak Chopra's keynote, I struck up a conversation with a young teacher. She said it was the first time she'd been at the event and was so glad that she came. The sweetness of the people I met over the weekend just cannot be overstated.

Deepak's speech would be the end of the road for most of the people there; only a few hundred would be staying for the post-conference workshops. I'd seen Chopra two summers before, but he brought some new stuff to the table.

In particular, he had a chart on what specific things made people happy. At one point, he asked, "What makes people more happy, shopping or sex?" I shouted out, "Chocolate". He also showed a twenty minute video of a brain scientist who had a stroke and was privy to what it's like to let go of the analytical mind while it was occuring. Her bliss was so great as her brain was hemorraging that she was tempted to not seek help. She said we can access this place of peace anytime and wrote a book about it called "My Stroke of Insight". Once his keynote ended, I had him sign a book of his called "The Way of the Wizard", a work that my mother had given me in 1995!

I headed back up to my room for a short time where I sought to relax before going out for a bite to eat. I looked out at the spectacular pre-sunset. Planes flew back and forth in the skies, Lombard being but a dozen or so miles from O'Hare airport. I felt a surge of bliss as I simply laid on my bed looking out from the fifth floor.

A half hour later, I set out for Popeye's. Having my first taste of it three days before, I wanted to experience it once more before leaving Illinois. I'm not sure if it was the food itself, the spiritual high I was on, or some combination of both, but that meal was one of the best I've ever had. I took at least 15 minutes to eat a breast, a wing, and a corn on the cob. I was in awe at just how good it all tasted, "Wow" being the word that was going through my mind most frequently.

I walked back into the hotel lobby a short time later and looked to see if anyone I knew was at the bar. On the way in, I noticed Neale sitting at a table in the hotel's restaurant with a number of other guests, having a jolly good time. I also noticed Michael Tamura and his wife near the entrance. You gotta love the accessibility that the conference offers. I was tempted to go up to Tamura and tell him how incredibly funny I found him, but felt an email would suffice.

I walked back toward the ballrooms to see where the following day's conference would be. While strolling there, I noticed a lady breast feeding her baby, but with her breast fully exposed. Not wanting to do a double take, I continued on my way. After reading some more of "Kick Me" while seated in the lobby, I headed up to bed for my last night of pleasure at Celebrate Your Life.

2010-07-23T17:04:00.003-05:00

In Minnesota Meanderings, Thomas Dixon discusses the most formative experiences of his life. Spanning nearly 40 years, his unique insights will change the way you look at the world.

Click here and then go to "Preview" to view the first 10 pages.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 3

2010-07-03T15:05:00.001-05:00

I slept great on Friday night, so my Saturday shower wasn't as transcendent as the day before, but I was sure to get a spiritual high with five speakers on the docket. It began at 9am with a lady named Sonia Choquette.

I'd never seen her before or read her stuff. If there's one person whose seminar I wouldn't have minded missing, it would be hers. However, by the time her spiel ended at 10:30, I knew hers would be one of my absolute faves of the weekend.

The first thing I noted was that she looked and sounded like actress and wife to Ted Danson, Mary Steenbergen. I'd always found Steenbergen's voice kinda irritating, but coming from Sonia, I didn't mind as much. She had us do a few breathing exercises and then made us stand up and start dancing a bit as this skinny young guy in green who looked to be in his 20's came up to the stage and starting getting super-jiggy with it. His energy was very infectious. Check him out at 4:07 of this video from last year.

She told us to rub the shoulders of the person to our right, then give karate-type chops to their shoulders, then the same to the person on our left. But even more profound was an exercise called the breath of life in which, for 4 minutes, we raise our arms to the sky, utter a one-word syllable, lower the arms, then raise them again. She said two minutes into it, we would feel like we were dying because our arms would get so sore which was certainly the case for me, but seeing everybody else doing it, I followed along. I was NOT going to be the one who quit on it.

The four minutes ended and the feeling was incredible. I felt completely alive and most notably, completely in the present moment. It was an extremely blissful feeling and one she said could be achieved every day of our lives if we just took the four minutes to do it. I really don't recall much of what she said; I don't take notes during these things and Sonia actually had a requirement that no one else do so, either. Click on the above link for deets on the kinds of things she typically talks about.

Suitably pumped, the next speaker on my list was Neale Donald Walsch, the author of "Conversations with God". I'd last seen him speak last June at the same conference. I found a seat in the second row next to one of the ladies I'd met the night before. Ten minutes before the seminar was to start, Neale and his wife did something that none of the other speakers that I saw did during this time: they went up to people and warmly greeted them, had pictures taken, exchanged energy. It was during this time that Neale's wife looked in my direction with a look of recognition and a smile on her face and said, "Hi". I looked behind me, then pointed at myself and said, "Me?" I guess I was underestimating her ability to remember me from the 5-day retreat I'd spent with them in Oregon at the end of 2008. About twenty minutes into Neale's talk, he looked at me, stopped, and said, "Hi". I nodded my head and he said, "It's nice to see friends".

This would be the first of three consecutive days that I would be seeing Neale and it'd gotten off to a great start. One of the things he discussed was being told as a child that he was extremely fortunate to be in the situation he was in, that is, first of all, he was an American, which in the postwar era, was the place you'd wanna be. Not only that, but he was a Catholic, which was God's one true religion. In addition, he was white and a male! Talk about having the deck stacked in your favor. He spoke of how he eventually grew dissatisfied with the "I'm superior to you because of this" theory of life. When the 90 minutes were up, I lined up to get a couple of his books signed.

I mentioned that my wife wasn't able to attend this time, but gave her regards. I also said that I looked forward to Monday's all-day workshop. And with that, it was lunch time.

I met up with a couple of the girls from earlier and had a box lunch which consisted of a turkey wrap, a small bag of Lay's potato chips, an apple, and a Shasta. Just kidding about the Shasta. I remember being served that as a kid when I went to the Jehovah's Witnesses assemblies.

Before the next speaker began, a forty-something man with a guitar came out and regaled us with a song he wrote about love. He reminded me of Terry Jacks, the man who sang the 70's classic "Seasons in the Sun". I thought of a cool comment to give to the lady sitting next to me, but waited until he finished singing. The comment was all the more appropriate when he ended by saying, with complete sincerity and a smile on his face, "Have a great day!" As he left the stage, I turned and said "Why do I feel like we've time traveled to 1975?"

A moment later, Gary Zukav, a frequent visitor to Oprah, but a bit too undynamic for me, though he reminds me of Harrison Ford and has a kick-ass last name, came out. He talked mostly of spiritual partnerships, relationships that we have with others that cause us to grow spiritually. He said that all long-term relationships are challenging, but in most cases, worthwhile. He opined that the most profound relationship in our life is usually with our parents and/or kids. Tremendous growth can be found by working especially close on these relationships. One lady asked if all this talk of spiritual partnerships meant that he was against marriage. He replied that he wasn't, though, he saw no reason for people to live together if things started getting intolerable for one of the parties or if the woman gained 50 pounds.

As I left the ballroom to go to the next workshop, I noticed a young lady that had a sign next to her that said, "Free Hugs". She looked at me and said, "Would you like a hug?". I said, "Why not?" and embraced her. I wondered if she asked everyone if they'd like a hug or asked me because she was in the mood to get one from a guy; probably 20% of the participants there were men.

After a short break, the next speaker I was scheduled to see was a man named Michael Tamura.

He said that he has died twice and having done so, has no fear of passing on. He mentioned the healing he does for others in his dreams and was incredibly funny. He talked of a friend who said he wanted to kill himself. Tamura said that if that was his wish, he should do so. He even allegedly said to the person, "Here's a knife." Then he addressed the audience and said, "I like to be helpful". I was rolling in the aisle at that point.

More seriously, he told the man that if he did follow through, that he would just have to come back into the life again and live it without falling back on the "Poor me" schtick. When I was suicidal in 1993, one of the fears I had about killing myself was having to make up for the spiritual transgression. I wanted everything to go dark when I died, but feared this wouldn't be the case.

Near the latter part of the session, he did a meditation with us. I tried to focus, but he was just too funny. He had us visualize a rose and a moment later, told us to shoot at it and made this laser-like sound effect. Then he commented on how the sound effect really sells it. I started chuckling again and every time he made the sound, I started laughing, though not too loudly as I knew others were trying to concentrate. I kinda wished I'd been able to get something more out of the meditation, but laughter is a good thing as well. The lady next to me said she was going to be doing an all-day with Tamura on Monday. I began to toy with the idea of skipping out on Neale and seeing him as well.

For the dinner break, I ate at an on-site restaurant called Harry Carey's with two of the women I'd met. As we waited to get a table, I noticed the man in charge of reservations had a bunch of cuts on his face. I asked him if he was in a fight or if his wife had thrown him down the stairs. He said the marks weren't from a fight, but that he did look pretty beat up some time ago when he tried to stop his wife from falling down some stairs and wound up tumbling down them instead. One of the ladies asked how I knew that his wife had caused him to have such injuries, if I was an intuitive. I said that I didn't know that, that I always asked people that look like they'd been in a fight if their spouse had caused it. She said she admired how I said the things that she thought, but wouldn't typically think of actually saying.

The other lady we were with was still buzzing over having seen Gregg Braden who spoke of 2012. She elucidated on how the Mayan calendar was set up so that mighty big things would be happening on December 21, 2012. I don't really believe that malarkey, but found a good way to make a joke about it. I said, "Well, if Sarah Palin were to be elected President in November of 2012, then the world ending the following month wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing." She didn't laugh too heartily at that one. Perhaps I offended.

The last speaker of the night was James Van Praagh, a somewhat vertically-challenged psychic who referred to himself as a "small medium at large". He gave a quick run-down on how he became aware of his powers before spending most of the time giving readings for spirits he was seeing in the room. This was another guy who made me laugh a number of times not least when he was giving a reading and said, "Hold on a moment while I take a sip of this vod, uh, coffee". In most cases, he was dead-on with what he was relaying to those who'd lost loved ones.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 2

2010-06-17T12:12:00.001-05:00

I woke up at around 3am on Friday morning. Only about 3 and a half hours until I had to get up for my all-day conference with Brian Weiss, the psychiatrist who stumbled upon what was apparently a patient's past life more than 20 years ago. I went back to bed hoping I could get some quality sleep and did. I stepped into the shower at around 7 and moaned with pleasure and not because I was touching myself. I felt like I hadn't taken a shower in many days, so it really hit the spot. Before leaving the hotel room, I had a couple small snacks to tide me over until lunch; a small can of Low Sodium V8 and a Cherry Nutri-Grain bar. I also put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door though this hotel's version simply said "Tranquility", a nice touch, I thought.

I headed downstairs to the registration area. Once I received my materials, I got in line for the Weiss seminar. I met people over the weekend who didn't care where they sat, but, by God, I was gonna do all I could to get seats as close to these authors as possible. I worked on USA Today's crossword puzzle as I waited in line. We were let in around 8:30 and I scrambled to the front finding a seat in the very first row and just off to the left. When Brian came out to speak, the lights were so dim that a woman in the front row said, later in the day, that she was having problems listening as she couldn't really see his face. She must've been a visual learner. To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, here's a pic of the lady who introduced Weiss:

Weiss explained that morning how he was very scientifically grounded all those years ago as a psychiatrist, but was thrown for a loop with a female patient. You see, she had a number of phobias, not least being a fear of drowning. Weiss sought to get to the source of this fear through regression hypnotism. He kept going further back in time until the woman was about 2 or 3, but still couldn't find a reason for the fears. It was quite by accident that one afternoon, he asked her to go to the source of those fears and it was then that she described what appeared to be a past lifetime. She wound up going through several of these lives and after a time, was healed of her neurosis. He did similar work with other patients and has regressed thousands. He's even regressed patients into future lives, something that boggles the mind.

We ended the morning by doing a regression session. I wasn't able to get anything, but this was no surprise as it takes an unquiet mind to typically do so. It took Weiss three months before he was able to have his own experience. We broke for lunch just after noon and I headed for a small ballroom where a "light buffet" (if that isn't an oxymoron, I don't know what is) was being served. Turned off by the paucity of food, though I prefer light lunches, anyway, I opted to go back to the hotel room where I had a Weight Watchers chocolate cookie and decided I was going to eat at the Subway at the mall once the all-day ended at 4. I also said goodbye to my beloved as she was going to be picked up by her brother-in-law in a matter of moments.

As I walked back to where Weiss' workshop was happening, I noticed a lady outside trying to light a cigarette. It was extremely windy out and she was having trouble doing so. I laughed aloud as I saw this. Then, instead of continuing on my way, I went back to watch the resolution. She tried lighting it again, no dice. I'm thinking, "Lady, have you ever heard of God giving one a sign?" She finally got up and put herself into a corner next to the door and had "success" at last. With a smile on my face, I returned to the workshop.

During the afternoon, we exchanged items with the person next to us in order that we might be able to see things based on the object's energy. I gave my mobile device to a college girl while she gave me a necklace to hold. I didn't really get anything nor did she. She did mention seeing a bow tie, something I wore on my wedding day, of course. Others in the room did pick vibes up, however. Of more note were how some of the lights behind Weiss would go off and on from time to time, at one point, in particular, when the origin of God was being discussed. The light man said he had nothing to do with it, that he was mostly away from the light board when these things were occurring. It didn't happen at all for the rest of the weekend.

Weiss opened the room up for questions later and someone asked about dogs having past lives. Weiss said they definitely have souls as they are frequently mentioned in people's descriptions of heaven. He added that he didn't know if dogs evolved up or down. I laughed out loud as my Pomeranian evolving to a human would be a step down in my mind, what with the unconditional love and happiness I believe she's experiencing as a canine.

Once 4pm arrived, Weiss signed his books.

I had a paperback of his first book that I had him sign. I couldn't really think of anything to say to him, so just said, "Thanks".

I then left the hotel and walked three blocks to the mall. Once at the food court, I ordered a six-inch chicken breast sub. This would be one of the only times during the weekend that I would see children; for some reason, parents don't like spending $500 for their kids to advance spiritually.

As I headed back to the hotel, I noticed their revolving door and opted to do something I like to do for fun on such occasions. Instead of just pushing the door half a revolution to get in, I swung it to go in, then kept pushing till I was outside again, and then one more time to get back in. No one seemed to notice it this time, but that's life.

After taking a rejuvenating bath in the early evening, I headed back downstairs to get in line for Marianne Williamson. As opposed to Weiss' pre-conference seminar which consisted of a little over a hundred people, Williamson' talk would go out to over a thousand. I'd seen her speak two years before, so it wasn't as big a priority to get close seats.

As I waited in line, instead of keeping to myself, I decided to speak to others near me. There was an older lady behind me who I looked at and said, "You ready for the weekend?" Those five words would end up introducing me to three women who I wound up spending much of the rest of the weekend with. They became instant friends and the four of us sat together as Marianne spoke.

Williamson had some good stuff, but wasn't quite as interesting as Weiss as her talk was more informational, not so much experiential. I had to chuckle near the end when she led the group in a prayer for the oil spill. I'm of the mind that all is for the highest good, so don't typically pray for things to go a certain way. As far as I'm concerned, the greater the damage, the more likely that they'll be a change in how we treat the environment. Once concluded, I headed up to get my book signed and merely said, "Thank you" as Williamson signed my "Return to Love" book, the first spiritual work I read back in the early 90's.

It was now time to hit another restaurant I'd never been to: White Castle. Just as I was inspired to go to Popeye's because of a movie, the same held for White Castle because of the "Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle" film. I was on top of the world as I entered the restaurant. I went up to the cashier and said, "It's my first time here. What do you recommend?" She said that they're known for their burgers, so I ordered a combo which consisted of 4 sliders, a fry, and a pop.

As my meal was being prepared, I asked the cashier if she'd seen the Harold & Kumar movie and mentioned that they were making Part III a Christmas movie and in 3-D. I said that it was gonna be "off the hook". Just then, I looked over and saw a black man eating his meal and giving me a bit of a look. Is it a faux pas to say "off the hook" if you're white?

I took my meal to a table and damn, those sliders were quite addicting. So much so that I was tempted to eat all four, but willed myself to stop at three. Here's a pic I took of myself while at the restaurant:

As I drove back to the hotel listening to Tori Amos, all was well.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 1

2010-06-10T13:42:00.001-05:00

A week ago today, me and my old lady headed down to Chicago to take separate vacations. I would be staying 4 nights in a fancy hotel while attending a conference called Celebrate Your Life while my beloved would be spending quality time with her only sibling. We left around 10am in my compact Hyundai Elantra. I'd picked out two dozen CD's the day before to pass the time; it's a six hour drive to Chi-town.

As we left MedCity, I wished that there was something more comfortable that I could rest my head against. *insert joke* It took me a minute or two before I realized that there were two pillows in the back; I always bring my own when going out of town. I grabbed the feather one and placed it behind my neck. Ahh, yes. This would do nicely.

It was a brilliant sunny day as we left Minnesota and entered Wisconsin. Wisconsin is quite an interesting name for a state if you think about it. It has both the words "con" and "sin" in it. I hope this is merely a coincidence.

A couple hours later, my wife said she'd like to stop for a quick bite, so we found a Subway. She initially wanted McDonalds, but I shot her down saying that she could have some junk food that evening. My wife had a six-inch and then took a breather. We were now more than halfway to our destination.

I'd told myself over the past few days that I wanted this vacation to last. None of this crap about how the vacation had flown by. Many times for me, the first day or two will go by nice and slow, then will pick up steam (kinda like what older people say their experience of life is in general).

We headed back to the car and continued on. Knowing that Illinois is a toll state, we'd gotten several dollars worth of change to give to the toll attendants as we steadily made our way into the Land of Lincoln.

Some of the stops have actual people manning them, others have a little container that you throw your money in. A number of years ago, there was a toll booth attendant stationed at her post and I actually threw the money at her. I quickly said I was sorry, that I was so used to doing this on prior occasions that I couldn't stop my arm from making the familiar motion.

We'd been warned that there was some significant road construction taking place in Illinois and finally hit it mid-afternoon. There were moments when we weren't moving at all, but I took it in stride. The first seminar wasn't taking place until the following morning.

We arrived at our destination, the Westin hotel, at around 5pm. We checked in and by that time, were ready for some non-healthy food. One of the joys of going to Illinois this time was trying out some restaurants that I'd never been to. The one I was most looking forward to checking out was Popeye's. Ever since I saw Adam Sandler's "Little Nicky" in 2000, in which he said that Popeye's was "fucking awesome", I'd wanted to experience its pleasures.

Before entering the eatery, I went to a trash can to throw out an empty bottle when I noticed the weekend paper in there. Always up for getting new reading material, I dug it out and went in to place my order. We each ended up ordering a two piece with corn on the cob. I'd been told the week before that Popeye's chicken was better than KFC's, but had difficulty believing it. Well, turns out they were right. The skin was heavenly and I'd not had corn in quite some time, perhaps because it looks the same going out as coming in.

Before heading back to the hotel, we stopped at the local mall where my girl got a frappucino from Caribou Coffee. Once back in our fifth floor room, I began unpacking and took a bath while reading the latest book I'd checked out from the library, "Kick Me". Thirty minutes later, I put my robe on and headed to the bed. *edited for content* We went to bed after that. I hoped I'd be able to get enough sleep to not be tired the next day. There are few things worse than spending mucho money on an experience and not being able to enjoy it.