I don't know what I'd do if I had to stay home all day long. There's only so much yard work one can do (note sarcasm). I can lounge all day reading and watching movies and doing some blogging, but I'm amazed at how many times the phone rings. The majority of the calls are telemarketers. The tell-tale sign is a 1-800 number. Once in awhile the caller ID will read "Unknown Caller," but the second sign is that they never respond to my hello right away. There is always a two or three second pause before a strange voice (usually with a thick foreign accent) chimes in asking to speak with either Kristie or me (and Casey, all of 17, has even been getting them now). That is when I hang up.
If the phone's not ringing, then the birds are squawking. There is a belligerent blue jay that has been harassing the house for most of the day. The black birds are annoying too, especially when I let Einstein out. They're quick to pinpoint him hiding in the bushes and squawk like mad so they all know he's out. It's not like he could catch one of them, but it does help me locate him when I have to try and usher him into the house.
There are several other exotic sounding birds, but I have no idea what they are. Usually, when I try to see I just glimpse leaves and branches. But I will put up with their racket all day compared to the deathly silence of winter.
Then there is the radio blaring and the engine of the white trash kid who tears through our neighborhood in his battered old blazer, windows down, no shirt on, and some horrible rap music thumping. I almost prefer our neighbor's dog which usually begins barking when they go to work - sometime around six - and when they either finally feed it at night or let it into the house - sometime around nine. Mercifully, the must be on vacation because I haven't heard anything from him this week.
Oh, there goes the phone. Another "Unknown Caller" . . .
Monday, June 30, 2008
This is why I should work for Kristie one day . . .
Kristie was reading the Northern Watch yesterday when she came across a story that we have been watching for the past couple of months. It seems a principal at a neighboring school kicked a student's feet during a fire drill. As with any story, there are several sides. The student claims that he was abused. The principal claims that the student was being belligerent and needed a little motivation.
We were interested to see what would happen.
As Kristie read the article to me, she highlighted this part, "'Based on our report and the witness statements, it is clear that Mr. *&^%%$#'s intent was to get the complaining student to comply with a directive that he had refused to follow, despite the fact that he had been talked to by at least three school staff members'" and it was also noted that "the student was also encouraging other students to be belligerent and disrespectful."
After reading that, Kristie chimed in with her own, no bullshit or rhetoric response, "I'm glad they're not going to crucify him. Finally some sanity. Someone's not going to let a little shithead get away with something."
That's why she should finish her degree and move right on in to administration. No bullshit and no excuses and a set of balls. God how our schools could use those.
We were interested to see what would happen.
As Kristie read the article to me, she highlighted this part, "'Based on our report and the witness statements, it is clear that Mr. *&^%%$#'s intent was to get the complaining student to comply with a directive that he had refused to follow, despite the fact that he had been talked to by at least three school staff members'" and it was also noted that "the student was also encouraging other students to be belligerent and disrespectful."
After reading that, Kristie chimed in with her own, no bullshit or rhetoric response, "I'm glad they're not going to crucify him. Finally some sanity. Someone's not going to let a little shithead get away with something."
That's why she should finish her degree and move right on in to administration. No bullshit and no excuses and a set of balls. God how our schools could use those.
KoKo's Return
Kristie and I left for Bismarck by five on Friday. We decided to head south on 32 until he hit highway 10 and take that to Fargo and then hop on to I 94 and take that all the way to Bismarck. Thanks to a little navigational snafu on my part -- as I told Kristie, there has never been a trip I've taken where I have NOT gotten lost -- I missed the turn on to highway 10 (they have totally changed that junction since I was on it last) and then I missed the turn to connect with I 94, so we had to brave Fargo. I had a bright idea: I'd head north on 75 and hop on that little road north on Fargo Moorhead that runs past the airport and west over to the interstate. Well, either I was on the wrong road (highly unlikely) or they have done some major renovations to it since I was on it last (2003) because there was a toll bridge on it! That meant turning back around and braving 10 through Fargo, which worked out in the end, though we lost about half an hour.
We pulled into Bismarck around 10:00. However, our hotel was a dive! We stayed in adjoining rooms at the same place when we drove to Custer, SD for our wedding. But our room this time was a glorified dorm room. Plus, the rate was outrageous.
Seeing KoKo's face at 11:30 in Dickenson made it all worth it.
Of course, she and Taylor brought so much stuff back that the back of our poor Trailblazer was nearly overflowing.
We had lunch with Ed and Lori and then headed home, which was a nice drive.
Now that KoKo is back, I have someone to balance things out around here. While Casey is no where near the type A personality Kristie is, he still tends to be more concrete sequential than me.
KoKo, on the other hand, is a total type B personality like me, so order has been restored.
Or so I thought. After helping her reorganize her room (she is her mother's daughter after all - last count I think Kristie has tried our room a minimum of four different ways) and clean it, she asked me to help her hang her pictures. I ran downstairs to get the hammer and some nails.
When I came back up, I handed her the nails and looked into my other hand only to realize that I had forgotten the hammer!
KoKo said, "Kurt! What's wrong with you?"
"Thank you, KoKo!" Kristie said from the bedroom.
Apparently, even the queen of the random abstractedness thought I was a ditz.
(Never mind that there was a hammer in the paint tray right outside KoKo's door that she didn't notice).
I had my revenge an hour later, though, when KoKo was downstairs trying to locate the remote. She swore that she had tossed it onto the couch. We looked under the couch, through the cushions, behind the couch, but to no avail. Since we have DirecTV, it's rather useless to watch TV without a remote control. Then, knowing KoKo, I decided to look around the house for the remote. Sure enough, there it was on the kitchen counter.
"KoKo, what's wrong with you?" I asked as I handed her the remote and headed to bed.
***********
In typical KoKo fashion, she had to buy gifts for everyone. And I mean everyone. Not only did she get her immediate family gifts - Casey got a t-shirt, Kenzie got a quilt KoKo made for her, Kristie got a little rock heart, a candle that read "Moms are like buttons they hold things together" and a little buffalo hot plate, I got a prairie dog stuffed animal and a coffee cup from Custer State Park (which is being used right now as I type), and she got her dad a little gold motorcycle that sits atop a snow globe filled with gold flakes inside. But KoKo didn't stop there - she also got something from Gail, Tammy (her father's fiance) and her three sons! Leave it to KoKo not to leave anyone out.
*********
Here's one of the old time photos that KoKo and Taylor took while in Custer.
We pulled into Bismarck around 10:00. However, our hotel was a dive! We stayed in adjoining rooms at the same place when we drove to Custer, SD for our wedding. But our room this time was a glorified dorm room. Plus, the rate was outrageous.
Seeing KoKo's face at 11:30 in Dickenson made it all worth it.
Of course, she and Taylor brought so much stuff back that the back of our poor Trailblazer was nearly overflowing.
We had lunch with Ed and Lori and then headed home, which was a nice drive.
Now that KoKo is back, I have someone to balance things out around here. While Casey is no where near the type A personality Kristie is, he still tends to be more concrete sequential than me.
KoKo, on the other hand, is a total type B personality like me, so order has been restored.
Or so I thought. After helping her reorganize her room (she is her mother's daughter after all - last count I think Kristie has tried our room a minimum of four different ways) and clean it, she asked me to help her hang her pictures. I ran downstairs to get the hammer and some nails.
When I came back up, I handed her the nails and looked into my other hand only to realize that I had forgotten the hammer!
KoKo said, "Kurt! What's wrong with you?"
"Thank you, KoKo!" Kristie said from the bedroom.
Apparently, even the queen of the random abstractedness thought I was a ditz.
(Never mind that there was a hammer in the paint tray right outside KoKo's door that she didn't notice).
I had my revenge an hour later, though, when KoKo was downstairs trying to locate the remote. She swore that she had tossed it onto the couch. We looked under the couch, through the cushions, behind the couch, but to no avail. Since we have DirecTV, it's rather useless to watch TV without a remote control. Then, knowing KoKo, I decided to look around the house for the remote. Sure enough, there it was on the kitchen counter.
"KoKo, what's wrong with you?" I asked as I handed her the remote and headed to bed.
***********
In typical KoKo fashion, she had to buy gifts for everyone. And I mean everyone. Not only did she get her immediate family gifts - Casey got a t-shirt, Kenzie got a quilt KoKo made for her, Kristie got a little rock heart, a candle that read "Moms are like buttons they hold things together" and a little buffalo hot plate, I got a prairie dog stuffed animal and a coffee cup from Custer State Park (which is being used right now as I type), and she got her dad a little gold motorcycle that sits atop a snow globe filled with gold flakes inside. But KoKo didn't stop there - she also got something from Gail, Tammy (her father's fiance) and her three sons! Leave it to KoKo not to leave anyone out.
*********
Here's one of the old time photos that KoKo and Taylor took while in Custer.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Beaner's Almost Back
Tomorrow after Kristie gets off work, we head to Bismarck. We'll spend the night there (rolling into town around 11 or so). Then we'll head to Dickinson where we'll meet Kristie's dad and we'll get KoKo and Taylor back.
I can't believe she's been gone so long.
Casey is a bit of a loner - what 17 year old boy with every game system known to man and a new wireless connection wouldn't be? - but KoKo and I are close, and I've missed my summer buddy. Whether it's messing around with the animals, going out for rides around town, biking, hustling from one practice or game to another, taking pictures with the digital camera, or watching horror films, we spend some good time together in the summers. However, she'll likely be swamped by her friends for the first couple days.
Either way, Beaner will brighten this place up quite a bit.
****
Einer uses Joker as a pillow.
Mischa is out.
I knew someone was watching me as I mowed the lawn this morning.
I can't believe she's been gone so long.
Casey is a bit of a loner - what 17 year old boy with every game system known to man and a new wireless connection wouldn't be? - but KoKo and I are close, and I've missed my summer buddy. Whether it's messing around with the animals, going out for rides around town, biking, hustling from one practice or game to another, taking pictures with the digital camera, or watching horror films, we spend some good time together in the summers. However, she'll likely be swamped by her friends for the first couple days.
Either way, Beaner will brighten this place up quite a bit.
****
Einer uses Joker as a pillow.
Mischa is out.
I knew someone was watching me as I mowed the lawn this morning.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Summer reading
Kristie shocked me the other day by saying, "You never read."
What?
I always have a book (usual several) with me. My car is loaded with them (you should see my trunk). My bed side is littered with books as well.
"I mean you read for your profession, but you don't read anything for pure enjoyment. And graphic novels don't count." (Honey, I'm paraphrasing here, so I've taken some liberties (as I always do) with my recollection. This is by no means verbatim).
She's right, though. I haven't read for enjoyment in a long time.
Krisite even asked me that last non-professional book I read - not counting graphic novels. I quickly said, "The Dante Club." But that was some months ago. Prior to that it was You Come When I Call You, a dreadful horror novel. In the mean time, Kristie has devoured at least a dozen novels. I envy that.
So to jump start my reading for enjoyment, I've read a book Kristie highly recommends, especially since I loved The Dante Club so much, a thick historical fiction book on the first serial killer, The Alienist, so named for those who work with the insane, who were "alienated" from society, so those who worked with them were called alienists. It is the story of a psychologist who is the first, at least in New York City at the end of the 19th century, to create a profile to catch a serial killer. I'm 100 pages in, and though the author, a history scholar named Caleb Carr, layers the historical facts on pretty heavily, it still gripping and intense.
What?
I always have a book (usual several) with me. My car is loaded with them (you should see my trunk). My bed side is littered with books as well.
"I mean you read for your profession, but you don't read anything for pure enjoyment. And graphic novels don't count." (Honey, I'm paraphrasing here, so I've taken some liberties (as I always do) with my recollection. This is by no means verbatim).
She's right, though. I haven't read for enjoyment in a long time.
Krisite even asked me that last non-professional book I read - not counting graphic novels. I quickly said, "The Dante Club." But that was some months ago. Prior to that it was You Come When I Call You, a dreadful horror novel. In the mean time, Kristie has devoured at least a dozen novels. I envy that.
So to jump start my reading for enjoyment, I've read a book Kristie highly recommends, especially since I loved The Dante Club so much, a thick historical fiction book on the first serial killer, The Alienist, so named for those who work with the insane, who were "alienated" from society, so those who worked with them were called alienists. It is the story of a psychologist who is the first, at least in New York City at the end of the 19th century, to create a profile to catch a serial killer. I'm 100 pages in, and though the author, a history scholar named Caleb Carr, layers the historical facts on pretty heavily, it still gripping and intense.
Summer pics
I was about to let our dogs in from the back yard when I took note of our rose bush. Actually, it is several rose bushes planted in a cluster by the previous owners, mostly to obscure the kennel they had in the back corner of the yard. Since none of us really knew what it was when we moved in, we marveled at the different colored flowers it produced as the summer progressed. There even was a vine tangled among the bushes (we tried transplanting that, but no luck). Finally, after producing white, yellow, and pink flowers, Casey looked at the plant and exclaimed, "What are you?"
The white petals are out in full force.
That was when I noticed so were the bees.
This guy was particularly industrious.
Of course, as I was taking pictures, Kozy gave me her best pitiful look in hopes I would grab a stick and play fetch with her.
I brought this box home for the summer. It contains all the curriculum and professional literature I wanted to get caught up on. Looks like Einstein is putting it to better use.
The ferns in our front yard have exploded. The early summer rains have helped them. Over Memorial Day, Kristie raked out all the dead leaves and there were just stubs. A few weeks later we bought some lights to border our sidewalk. We put three among the ferns. But they were quickly engulfed.
The white petals are out in full force.
That was when I noticed so were the bees.
This guy was particularly industrious.
Of course, as I was taking pictures, Kozy gave me her best pitiful look in hopes I would grab a stick and play fetch with her.
I brought this box home for the summer. It contains all the curriculum and professional literature I wanted to get caught up on. Looks like Einstein is putting it to better use.
The ferns in our front yard have exploded. The early summer rains have helped them. Over Memorial Day, Kristie raked out all the dead leaves and there were just stubs. A few weeks later we bought some lights to border our sidewalk. We put three among the ferns. But they were quickly engulfed.
This is why I believe in a hell
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080624/ap_on_re_us/grad_student_torture;_ylt=Apqwe3XtMWSYkWtOtsWk8zKs0NUE
This bastard makes it hard to argue against the death penalty – or better yet – letting the victim have a go at her attacker before his death.
This bastard makes it hard to argue against the death penalty – or better yet – letting the victim have a go at her attacker before his death.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
$80.5 million
Yes. You read that title right. The water lily painting below by Monet sold for 80.5 million dollars. I hope the buyer keeps it behind glass, for I remember reading an article on a boy, I believe in Chicago, put a piece of gum on a priceless painting. It took days to remove the stain and restore the painting.
Tuesday
Sad news. Mandy (a colleague who teaches at the ALC) and I were just talking in Boston about Jack, a former student of ours. He is the one, if you recall, who I found reading my graduation letter with a shit-eating grin on his face. Mandy said that she really enjoyed having him in class and was amazed at how smart he was. I agreed.
We then talked about Jack's future. Even though his father worked him very hard in his construction business, Jack loved working for him and idolized him. I envisioned Jack taking over the business (and even thought about talking to him about helping me tear up my side walk).
Well, I just got an email from Mandy. Jack's father died. I know, sadly, what Jack is going through. However, I was fortunate enough to have Kristie and the kids and my brother and sister to help me through it. I hope Jack's family network will help him.
****
Leave it up to history teachers . . . yesterday I ran to run up to TRF because the two history teachers I gave a ride home forgot belongings in my car (glasses and a camera). I had other errands to run too, so it was no big deal. One of the final stops I had to make was at Hugos.
There I had a conversation I will never forget. I was jawing in the fruit isle with two workers, who were also students of mine, when an elderly man saw us standing and visiting. "You're both fired," he joked to the workers, Ryan and Kyle. "Actually, I don't blame ya. I'd rather be outside than in here freezing."
We laughed and continued talking.
Then the man interrupted. "I almost got into a fist fight," he said.
"Really?" Ryan asked.
"Yep. I overheard a man talking about the war. He said how he would gladly go over there and fight if he had to."
I wasn't sure where this was leading. I didn't know if the man was about to get on top of his soap box and if we were easy targets for his rant.
"That's how it goes," I said.
"Well, I told him," the man continued, "that once the first bullet whizzed past his ear, he'd be bawling and running the other way."
Then he launched into how he was a veteran, from the Korean war I believe, and how he had served as a sniper, killing 34 Koreans, before getting shot himself. His stories were incredible, so incredible, in fact, that I wondered if he was lying.
However, he seemed interesting enough and seemed lonely, so I struck up a conversation with him while Kyle and Ryan got back to work.
"You know what the problem is. If we'd only take some of the money we spend on bombs and bullets and educate and feed these people, we wouldn't have these problems."
I agreed.
"You know I had a job working construction years ago. The contractor hired some cheap Korean labor. You might think I wouldn't have worked with them. But I was happy to. In fact, I was the only one who could understand them since I learned the language. When they found out that I had fought against them in the war, they asked if I wasn't angry at them. I said hell no! They were just doing their job and I was just doing mine. When the war was over, so were any hard feelings."
I just nodded.
"Then one day I overheard the workers talking about their pay check. Here our boss had swindled out of some money. I told him to pay them what they deserved. Finally, I threw his ass on the ground and beat him. They thanked me and were so thankful. Even one of the American workers thanked me, he said that guy had it coming and he would have done it to him if he had been a little younger."
He had some other tall tales to tell, and I wasn't quite sure they were for real. But I finally thanked him for his service and we went on our ways. I never even thought to ask him his name. He would have been great to bring in to class.
*****
I just thought of another high light from Boston. On Friday evening, Mike and I went out for dinner and a beer. The bar and grill we chose opened out into the street. Our table was behind a pillar that faced the sidewalk, so we took note of the people who passed by.
We first took note of an African American gentleman who seemed to be a star in his own mind, for he came down the street talking to everyone (or most likely himself) and gesturing and shaking hands. When he started to talk to some of the people in the bar, Mike said, "Watch how quick security takes care of this guy."
Sure enough, within seconds the bouncers were out the door and escorting him past the bar.
Next up were the Jesus freaks. One had two boards strapped on proclaiming that you could not get to heaven on just good works, but you had to believe in Christ. He had a side kick who was handing out pamphlets, though they seemed to be interested more in the Red Sox game on the bar's big screen than in saving souls.
Finally, when after we got our bill, we hit the street for a little meandering before making our way back to the Omni. Now we have been hit up by several bums and street people while there. The first came on our first full day in Boston when a lady met us in the middle of street saying that she was not a bum and that her luggage (including her ID) had been stolen. She just needed some money to make a phone call to some relatives. We were having none of it and Jeff directed her to the police station. A few days later, Mike saw her and listened in. Apparently, she had dreamed up another tear-jerker story to prey on tourists.
However, as Mike and I walked down the street, we saw a bum perched on a landing not ten feet from the bar. He held up a cardboard sign that stated simply, "Help Me Get Drunk Tonight."
Mike and I took three steps past him. Then we both stopped, smirked, and began rummaging through our pockets.
"At least he's honest," Mike said.
"Gotta admire that," I said.
We handed him a couple bucks and told him to have a few on us.
*****
Kristie has been doing water aerobics.
Tonight I joined her.
I have a feeling I will be regretting that tomorrow. One doesn't get the full impact since one is immersed in water. But after the hour long workout and taking a few laps around the pool, when I finally hoisted myself out of the pool, my legs felt like Jello.
Now if we can just keep this up for the rest of the summer!
We then talked about Jack's future. Even though his father worked him very hard in his construction business, Jack loved working for him and idolized him. I envisioned Jack taking over the business (and even thought about talking to him about helping me tear up my side walk).
Well, I just got an email from Mandy. Jack's father died. I know, sadly, what Jack is going through. However, I was fortunate enough to have Kristie and the kids and my brother and sister to help me through it. I hope Jack's family network will help him.
****
Leave it up to history teachers . . . yesterday I ran to run up to TRF because the two history teachers I gave a ride home forgot belongings in my car (glasses and a camera). I had other errands to run too, so it was no big deal. One of the final stops I had to make was at Hugos.
There I had a conversation I will never forget. I was jawing in the fruit isle with two workers, who were also students of mine, when an elderly man saw us standing and visiting. "You're both fired," he joked to the workers, Ryan and Kyle. "Actually, I don't blame ya. I'd rather be outside than in here freezing."
We laughed and continued talking.
Then the man interrupted. "I almost got into a fist fight," he said.
"Really?" Ryan asked.
"Yep. I overheard a man talking about the war. He said how he would gladly go over there and fight if he had to."
I wasn't sure where this was leading. I didn't know if the man was about to get on top of his soap box and if we were easy targets for his rant.
"That's how it goes," I said.
"Well, I told him," the man continued, "that once the first bullet whizzed past his ear, he'd be bawling and running the other way."
Then he launched into how he was a veteran, from the Korean war I believe, and how he had served as a sniper, killing 34 Koreans, before getting shot himself. His stories were incredible, so incredible, in fact, that I wondered if he was lying.
However, he seemed interesting enough and seemed lonely, so I struck up a conversation with him while Kyle and Ryan got back to work.
"You know what the problem is. If we'd only take some of the money we spend on bombs and bullets and educate and feed these people, we wouldn't have these problems."
I agreed.
"You know I had a job working construction years ago. The contractor hired some cheap Korean labor. You might think I wouldn't have worked with them. But I was happy to. In fact, I was the only one who could understand them since I learned the language. When they found out that I had fought against them in the war, they asked if I wasn't angry at them. I said hell no! They were just doing their job and I was just doing mine. When the war was over, so were any hard feelings."
I just nodded.
"Then one day I overheard the workers talking about their pay check. Here our boss had swindled out of some money. I told him to pay them what they deserved. Finally, I threw his ass on the ground and beat him. They thanked me and were so thankful. Even one of the American workers thanked me, he said that guy had it coming and he would have done it to him if he had been a little younger."
He had some other tall tales to tell, and I wasn't quite sure they were for real. But I finally thanked him for his service and we went on our ways. I never even thought to ask him his name. He would have been great to bring in to class.
*****
I just thought of another high light from Boston. On Friday evening, Mike and I went out for dinner and a beer. The bar and grill we chose opened out into the street. Our table was behind a pillar that faced the sidewalk, so we took note of the people who passed by.
We first took note of an African American gentleman who seemed to be a star in his own mind, for he came down the street talking to everyone (or most likely himself) and gesturing and shaking hands. When he started to talk to some of the people in the bar, Mike said, "Watch how quick security takes care of this guy."
Sure enough, within seconds the bouncers were out the door and escorting him past the bar.
Next up were the Jesus freaks. One had two boards strapped on proclaiming that you could not get to heaven on just good works, but you had to believe in Christ. He had a side kick who was handing out pamphlets, though they seemed to be interested more in the Red Sox game on the bar's big screen than in saving souls.
Finally, when after we got our bill, we hit the street for a little meandering before making our way back to the Omni. Now we have been hit up by several bums and street people while there. The first came on our first full day in Boston when a lady met us in the middle of street saying that she was not a bum and that her luggage (including her ID) had been stolen. She just needed some money to make a phone call to some relatives. We were having none of it and Jeff directed her to the police station. A few days later, Mike saw her and listened in. Apparently, she had dreamed up another tear-jerker story to prey on tourists.
However, as Mike and I walked down the street, we saw a bum perched on a landing not ten feet from the bar. He held up a cardboard sign that stated simply, "Help Me Get Drunk Tonight."
Mike and I took three steps past him. Then we both stopped, smirked, and began rummaging through our pockets.
"At least he's honest," Mike said.
"Gotta admire that," I said.
We handed him a couple bucks and told him to have a few on us.
*****
Kristie has been doing water aerobics.
Tonight I joined her.
I have a feeling I will be regretting that tomorrow. One doesn't get the full impact since one is immersed in water. But after the hour long workout and taking a few laps around the pool, when I finally hoisted myself out of the pool, my legs felt like Jello.
Now if we can just keep this up for the rest of the summer!
Final Thoughts on the Boston Experience
Thought on the Boston experience
I certainly learned a lot. I’ve taught bits and pieces of literature from the colonial and revolutionary periods over the years, but nothing can compare to being immersed in the area. Boston takes its history very seriously. In fact, I wonder if there is another city in our country that is as linked to its past as Boston is.
Simply walking down a street causes one to literally see the living history of the revolution. On the very sidewalk outside our Omni Park hotel, there is a line of red bricks that runs throughout the city. This is known as the freedom trail, which one can follow along and see all of the historic sights of Boston. In fact, within one mile of our hotel we could visit the Old North Church (where the lanterns were hung to alert the colonists that the British were preparing to invade), the Black Heritage Trail (where the civil rights movement really got its start where residents hid escaped slaves as part of the underground railroad – which neither underground nor a railroad – during the Fugitive Slave Act), the Boston Massachusetts State House (outside of which sits the famous statue of the MA 54th regiment (an all black regiment sent to help fight for the North in the Civil War), along the wharf where the Boston Tea party took place, and so on.
It must be odd for a resident of Boston to be stuck in so far back in the past. When we toured the Black Heritage Trail, we passed several historic buildings that are still peoples’ homes. One man entered his house with our group of 25 people standing across the street looking at his house, which used to be a safe spot for fugitive slaves. Since his house is a monument, he cannot make any changes to the outside. If a window breaks, according to our guide, there is a mountain of paper work that must be done so that it is restored to certain historic requirements. Think about having a tour guide talking about your house and 25 people snapping pictures of it the next time you come home from work.
I can’t really decide on my favorite part. I loved our trip up (at least if felt like up to me) to Salem and our tour of the various museums devoted to the witch trials.
The Freedom Trail was a great experience too, though I didn’t realize we had the option of not walking the two miles and just staying on the bus. Despite the trek, it gave me a great sense of what the retreating British soldiers must have experienced as the scurried back to Boston and faced intensive fire from local minute men hiding in the woods and behind the stone walls along the trail.
The Black Heritage Trail was an amazing experience. Our guide was excellent and took his job quite seriously. I never realized how big of a player Boston was in fighting for the right of escaped slaves and helping to begin the civil rights movement.
Our impromptu trip to Concord to tour the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery was another great experience. As an English teacher, seeing the graves of Hawthorne, Thoreau, Emerson, and Maycott was a real treat.
Another impromptu trip, to visit Fenway Park, was another highlight. I’ve always been the spontaneous type (or at least I like to think that) because the best moments of our lives tend to result from spontaneous decisions. I think this is because if we plan something, we cannot help but build up expectations for it. Sometimes, our experiences cannot live up to our expectations. But when I do something on the spur of the moment, there is no time for expectations. Fenway was a great example of that. Here our tour guide was excellent and absolutely reveled in the tradition and history of the stadium.
The Emerson House – where Hawthorne lived briefly. I got to see a sample of his handwriting as he engraved a small message with a diamond on a window pane (his wife did the same – as did other residents of the house). I also got to see the table from which he most likely wrote “Young Goodman Brown.” It doesn’t get any better than that.
Now for the low lights –
Our seven minute (yes, seven minute) tour of Walden Pond (which by MN standards was a lake). What a joke. We read the entire novel, yet we devote seven minutes to it.
The tour of the Adams’ home. Our guide was super. But there seemed to be a tour group in every single room, so we were quickly ushered from one room to the other – in no seeming order either – based on where the next group was hoarding in. So much history, but it was lost on me because of our light speed.
The morning lectures. They spend what must have been a quarter of a million dollars to ship 40 some teachers out to Boston and we spend the first hour or two of most mornings sitting in a conference room listening to lectures on things most of us already had read or knew. Waste of time.
The service in the bars and restaurants. I was amazed at how lackadaisical and often rude our servers were. Now we had some great service too, but for the most part, it was bad. I’ll take our MN Nice attitudes here any day.
Some colleagues. Some had the attitude that this was simply a free trip to Boston where they would go along with the tour (despite not reading a lick of the assignments) and get drunk every night.
Some saw this as a chance to show off how worldly they were and spout off about everything and anything.
And in some cases, the red neck nature of northern MN came out. One night we were in our hotel room and several coaches were gathered there (you can already tell where this is going, right?). Since I had no where to flee, I was trapped. Eventually, the topic turned to politics. I mentioned how I bought two Obama pins early that day. It was at that point that an elementary teacher and coach (amazing, right?) went off. “How can you vote for someone whose name you can’t even pronounce? He can’t win. I’d just as soon shoot him.”
Yes, folks. That’s what the dumb shit said. And this man is in education! Is that not scary as hell? Now you can believe whatever you want. I am not enamored with McCain, but I’m not going to bash him for something as foolish as his name or claim that I would shoot him myself because what this country needs is another old white male running it. That would be ludicrous. Yet, this redneck has a hand in shaping the minds of our youth. No wonder China is kicking our ass, right?
However, this mindlessness was balanced by several other colleagues.
I was able to surround myself with a little band of teachers who take our jobs (and the trip) seriously. Often we would spend the evening talking shop. I learned a lot from those people. They gave me hope for my profession, which isn’t always easy.
I certainly learned a lot. I’ve taught bits and pieces of literature from the colonial and revolutionary periods over the years, but nothing can compare to being immersed in the area. Boston takes its history very seriously. In fact, I wonder if there is another city in our country that is as linked to its past as Boston is.
Simply walking down a street causes one to literally see the living history of the revolution. On the very sidewalk outside our Omni Park hotel, there is a line of red bricks that runs throughout the city. This is known as the freedom trail, which one can follow along and see all of the historic sights of Boston. In fact, within one mile of our hotel we could visit the Old North Church (where the lanterns were hung to alert the colonists that the British were preparing to invade), the Black Heritage Trail (where the civil rights movement really got its start where residents hid escaped slaves as part of the underground railroad – which neither underground nor a railroad – during the Fugitive Slave Act), the Boston Massachusetts State House (outside of which sits the famous statue of the MA 54th regiment (an all black regiment sent to help fight for the North in the Civil War), along the wharf where the Boston Tea party took place, and so on.
It must be odd for a resident of Boston to be stuck in so far back in the past. When we toured the Black Heritage Trail, we passed several historic buildings that are still peoples’ homes. One man entered his house with our group of 25 people standing across the street looking at his house, which used to be a safe spot for fugitive slaves. Since his house is a monument, he cannot make any changes to the outside. If a window breaks, according to our guide, there is a mountain of paper work that must be done so that it is restored to certain historic requirements. Think about having a tour guide talking about your house and 25 people snapping pictures of it the next time you come home from work.
I can’t really decide on my favorite part. I loved our trip up (at least if felt like up to me) to Salem and our tour of the various museums devoted to the witch trials.
The Freedom Trail was a great experience too, though I didn’t realize we had the option of not walking the two miles and just staying on the bus. Despite the trek, it gave me a great sense of what the retreating British soldiers must have experienced as the scurried back to Boston and faced intensive fire from local minute men hiding in the woods and behind the stone walls along the trail.
The Black Heritage Trail was an amazing experience. Our guide was excellent and took his job quite seriously. I never realized how big of a player Boston was in fighting for the right of escaped slaves and helping to begin the civil rights movement.
Our impromptu trip to Concord to tour the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery was another great experience. As an English teacher, seeing the graves of Hawthorne, Thoreau, Emerson, and Maycott was a real treat.
Another impromptu trip, to visit Fenway Park, was another highlight. I’ve always been the spontaneous type (or at least I like to think that) because the best moments of our lives tend to result from spontaneous decisions. I think this is because if we plan something, we cannot help but build up expectations for it. Sometimes, our experiences cannot live up to our expectations. But when I do something on the spur of the moment, there is no time for expectations. Fenway was a great example of that. Here our tour guide was excellent and absolutely reveled in the tradition and history of the stadium.
The Emerson House – where Hawthorne lived briefly. I got to see a sample of his handwriting as he engraved a small message with a diamond on a window pane (his wife did the same – as did other residents of the house). I also got to see the table from which he most likely wrote “Young Goodman Brown.” It doesn’t get any better than that.
Now for the low lights –
Our seven minute (yes, seven minute) tour of Walden Pond (which by MN standards was a lake). What a joke. We read the entire novel, yet we devote seven minutes to it.
The tour of the Adams’ home. Our guide was super. But there seemed to be a tour group in every single room, so we were quickly ushered from one room to the other – in no seeming order either – based on where the next group was hoarding in. So much history, but it was lost on me because of our light speed.
The morning lectures. They spend what must have been a quarter of a million dollars to ship 40 some teachers out to Boston and we spend the first hour or two of most mornings sitting in a conference room listening to lectures on things most of us already had read or knew. Waste of time.
The service in the bars and restaurants. I was amazed at how lackadaisical and often rude our servers were. Now we had some great service too, but for the most part, it was bad. I’ll take our MN Nice attitudes here any day.
Some colleagues. Some had the attitude that this was simply a free trip to Boston where they would go along with the tour (despite not reading a lick of the assignments) and get drunk every night.
Some saw this as a chance to show off how worldly they were and spout off about everything and anything.
And in some cases, the red neck nature of northern MN came out. One night we were in our hotel room and several coaches were gathered there (you can already tell where this is going, right?). Since I had no where to flee, I was trapped. Eventually, the topic turned to politics. I mentioned how I bought two Obama pins early that day. It was at that point that an elementary teacher and coach (amazing, right?) went off. “How can you vote for someone whose name you can’t even pronounce? He can’t win. I’d just as soon shoot him.”
Yes, folks. That’s what the dumb shit said. And this man is in education! Is that not scary as hell? Now you can believe whatever you want. I am not enamored with McCain, but I’m not going to bash him for something as foolish as his name or claim that I would shoot him myself because what this country needs is another old white male running it. That would be ludicrous. Yet, this redneck has a hand in shaping the minds of our youth. No wonder China is kicking our ass, right?
However, this mindlessness was balanced by several other colleagues.
I was able to surround myself with a little band of teachers who take our jobs (and the trip) seriously. Often we would spend the evening talking shop. I learned a lot from those people. They gave me hope for my profession, which isn’t always easy.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Back from Boston
Well, it is good to be home. I finally rolled into town around one am. This was, though, after a ten (well, nine I guess since I set my clock back an hour) hour journey from Boston.
We arrived at the airport at 3 sharp. However, we didn't board for 90 minutes. After sitting aboard the plane for 20 more minutes, we finally got going for our 2.5 hour trip to Minneapolis. We made our connecting flight in plenty of time, but though it boarded at 9:30, we got stuck on the runway for the better part of an hour. We touched down in Bemidji after 11. Then it was about a two hour drive home.
On Highway 2 one of my colleagues said how nice it was to be back in the open country again. He said he never knew what the weather was going to be like in Boston because if he looked out his window, he only saw the bricks of the neighboring building about ten yards away. If you ventured into the street, you barely saw the sky due to the buildings. I agree. I like the open spaces of northwestern MN.
I also liked seeing the stars again, which were out in full force last night. They were lost in the sky scrapers and bright lights of Boston.
I won't miss the lack of mosquitoes and bugs though.
Here are some more pictures from Boston.
Old Ironsides (which, of course, was closed the day we were to tour it)
The Mayflower II (a major disappointment)
Characters from Plimouth Plantation
A Puritan actor. These players would not break character for anything. They spoke and acted as if it was still the 1600s.
Even the Puritan goats wouldn't break character.
A Puritan settlement
Some of the Wompanoag Natives. These characters did not role play. The spoke right to us as modern day natives living as their ancestors did.
Their children were great - running around and playing just as their ancestors would have.
This little guy couldn't get enough to eat.
On our final day we toured the Adams' home in Quincy.
This is their home, though Abigail added on quite a bit while John was away on business.
Here is the Adams' library. It houses over 3,000 books.
A trip to the Cheers replica bar.
This tree, from the cemetery in Salem, was amazing. It reminds me of the one from Pan's Labyrinth. It had a huge trunk, actually two trunks, that rose high above the grave yard. Then the branches jutted out at odd angles. The branches were heavy and gnarled. They stretched out far across the cemetery. It was unlike any tree I had ever seen.
We arrived at the airport at 3 sharp. However, we didn't board for 90 minutes. After sitting aboard the plane for 20 more minutes, we finally got going for our 2.5 hour trip to Minneapolis. We made our connecting flight in plenty of time, but though it boarded at 9:30, we got stuck on the runway for the better part of an hour. We touched down in Bemidji after 11. Then it was about a two hour drive home.
On Highway 2 one of my colleagues said how nice it was to be back in the open country again. He said he never knew what the weather was going to be like in Boston because if he looked out his window, he only saw the bricks of the neighboring building about ten yards away. If you ventured into the street, you barely saw the sky due to the buildings. I agree. I like the open spaces of northwestern MN.
I also liked seeing the stars again, which were out in full force last night. They were lost in the sky scrapers and bright lights of Boston.
I won't miss the lack of mosquitoes and bugs though.
Here are some more pictures from Boston.
Old Ironsides (which, of course, was closed the day we were to tour it)
The Mayflower II (a major disappointment)
Characters from Plimouth Plantation
A Puritan actor. These players would not break character for anything. They spoke and acted as if it was still the 1600s.
Even the Puritan goats wouldn't break character.
A Puritan settlement
Some of the Wompanoag Natives. These characters did not role play. The spoke right to us as modern day natives living as their ancestors did.
Their children were great - running around and playing just as their ancestors would have.
This little guy couldn't get enough to eat.
On our final day we toured the Adams' home in Quincy.
This is their home, though Abigail added on quite a bit while John was away on business.
Here is the Adams' library. It houses over 3,000 books.
A trip to the Cheers replica bar.
This tree, from the cemetery in Salem, was amazing. It reminds me of the one from Pan's Labyrinth. It had a huge trunk, actually two trunks, that rose high above the grave yard. Then the branches jutted out at odd angles. The branches were heavy and gnarled. They stretched out far across the cemetery. It was unlike any tree I had ever seen.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
KoKo in SD
Beaner is having a blast in Custer. Below is a picture of KoKo, her cousin Austin, her grandfather, and her cousin Taylor. They scaled Crazy Horse for the Volksmarch (it was KoKo's second consecutive trip since he walked up Crazy Horse, which you can only do once a year, the day after our wedding).
Goodbye Boston
Our last day in Boston. Our flight departs at 5:50 and we should touch down in the cities around 8:30. Hopefully, I'll be home shortly after midnight.
It's been a blast, but it's time to return home.
The highlights
1. Fenway Park tour
2. Salem
3. The Sleepy Hollow Cemetery
4. The Black Heritage Tour
5. Plimouth Plantation
The Boston Celtics winning the NBA championship in town was the most unexpected event. I could hear the rioters outside in the street. Of course, many of the sports fans in our group headed to the streets. Some just witnessed the insanity while some got caught right up in it. A couple event shelled out $400 a ticket to attend the game.
But, as I said earlier, it's time for home.
It's been a blast, but it's time to return home.
The highlights
1. Fenway Park tour
2. Salem
3. The Sleepy Hollow Cemetery
4. The Black Heritage Tour
5. Plimouth Plantation
The Boston Celtics winning the NBA championship in town was the most unexpected event. I could hear the rioters outside in the street. Of course, many of the sports fans in our group headed to the streets. Some just witnessed the insanity while some got caught right up in it. A couple event shelled out $400 a ticket to attend the game.
But, as I said earlier, it's time for home.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Boston Pictures
Though I've enjoyed my trip to Boston, I'm chomping at the bit to get home to my wife and family. It has been too long.
Some of the sights from Boston.
The Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord where Emerson, Alcott, Thoreau, and Hawthorne are buried.
Nathaniel Hawthorne's grave.
The following pictures are from our trip to Salem.
The witch trial museum.
This is from a monument to the victims of the witch trials.
A stone dedicated to John Proctor, one of my favorite characters from Miller's The Crucible.
Though I was not looking forward to it, Mike, Larry, and I took a trip to Fenway Park. I'm not a baseball fan, but this was one of the highlights of the entire trip. The park is steeped in history and lore.
The "Green Monster."
Here's a view of the field from the pressbox.
From our trip to Harvard
Harvard's banner.
The Harvard library - couldn't get in without a student ID though.
Some of the sights from Boston.
The Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord where Emerson, Alcott, Thoreau, and Hawthorne are buried.
Nathaniel Hawthorne's grave.
The following pictures are from our trip to Salem.
The witch trial museum.
This is from a monument to the victims of the witch trials.
A stone dedicated to John Proctor, one of my favorite characters from Miller's The Crucible.
Though I was not looking forward to it, Mike, Larry, and I took a trip to Fenway Park. I'm not a baseball fan, but this was one of the highlights of the entire trip. The park is steeped in history and lore.
The "Green Monster."
Here's a view of the field from the pressbox.
From our trip to Harvard
Harvard's banner.
The Harvard library - couldn't get in without a student ID though.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Thinking of Kenzie
As Kristie's tummy grows and Kenzie is bouncing all around in there (at our last doctor's visit, the doctor put the device to hear the heartbeat on Kristie's stomach and Kenzie promply kicked it), I have started devising how to spend our time together.
I can't wait to read Dr. Seuss to her and tell her bedtime stories (like my grandmother did for me).
I'm thinking of getting a four wheeler to take her on the paths my father took me on our little Yamaha 60 motorcycle (which Casey has in our garage, but I fear it's beyond salvage).
Legos. Don't even get me started on those. Kenzie is going to have more Legos than she knows what to do with (but that's what she has me for!)
Bike rides. Kristie's new bike already has a little stand on the back that we could affix a child seat to. I can't wait to go jogging with Kenzie in her little stroller.
Trips to the beach and the lake. Three summers ago we would meet Lon and Sara and their little girl, Rhylee, there. It was a blast. Now it will be our turn.
Then there are all the holidays. Oh man! Halloween is going to be great. Then Christmas, the Fourth of July, my birthday! How I can't wait.
In fact, I even have a spot picked out for our first tree house.
Here is the tree.
And here is the perfect spot. We'll have one of those rope ladders. Now, you ask, who will build it? That's a good question. But I figure I have at least five years to perfect my carpentry skills (okay, to acquire some carpentry skills - and tools too).
I can't wait to read Dr. Seuss to her and tell her bedtime stories (like my grandmother did for me).
I'm thinking of getting a four wheeler to take her on the paths my father took me on our little Yamaha 60 motorcycle (which Casey has in our garage, but I fear it's beyond salvage).
Legos. Don't even get me started on those. Kenzie is going to have more Legos than she knows what to do with (but that's what she has me for!)
Bike rides. Kristie's new bike already has a little stand on the back that we could affix a child seat to. I can't wait to go jogging with Kenzie in her little stroller.
Trips to the beach and the lake. Three summers ago we would meet Lon and Sara and their little girl, Rhylee, there. It was a blast. Now it will be our turn.
Then there are all the holidays. Oh man! Halloween is going to be great. Then Christmas, the Fourth of July, my birthday! How I can't wait.
In fact, I even have a spot picked out for our first tree house.
Here is the tree.
And here is the perfect spot. We'll have one of those rope ladders. Now, you ask, who will build it? That's a good question. But I figure I have at least five years to perfect my carpentry skills (okay, to acquire some carpentry skills - and tools too).
Boston Bound
Tomorrow morning I head out for Boston. The trip, which I never thought would come to fruition, is the culmination of the three year MNHS/Hamline history program I have been involved in. To date I have earned 11 credits and attended eight sessions. I think. My mind is slipping. I can't remember if we have only been through two summer sessions or three?
Outside some of the very dry readings on historical stuff, it has been very interesting. But then again, I have always been interested in history (thank you Mr. Matzke, 10th grade American History teacher).
While I am looking forward to the trip, I would be lying if I said it isn't going to be hard to be away from Kristie for a week.
She will be able to get a lot more done without me around, but I tend to need her a lot more than she needs me, which might account for all of the calls she receives from me at work every day.
Like my father, I'm a homebody. I enjoy spending time with my family the most. I'm not a fisherman or sportsman of any sort. Actually, Kristie was trying to get me to go ice fishing with one of her coworkers last winter. However, I could think of nothing I'd like less. I'm sure I would enjoy it, but spending three days unable to really shower or do anything other than fish, drink, and talk "guy talk" is not how I wish to spend a weekend.
Now we aren't one of those couples that absolutely cannot spend time apart. Well, maybe we are, but I don't think of us like that.
It's just that I like to be with my wife. As much as possible.
Which is why this week will be hard.
Outside some of the very dry readings on historical stuff, it has been very interesting. But then again, I have always been interested in history (thank you Mr. Matzke, 10th grade American History teacher).
While I am looking forward to the trip, I would be lying if I said it isn't going to be hard to be away from Kristie for a week.
She will be able to get a lot more done without me around, but I tend to need her a lot more than she needs me, which might account for all of the calls she receives from me at work every day.
Like my father, I'm a homebody. I enjoy spending time with my family the most. I'm not a fisherman or sportsman of any sort. Actually, Kristie was trying to get me to go ice fishing with one of her coworkers last winter. However, I could think of nothing I'd like less. I'm sure I would enjoy it, but spending three days unable to really shower or do anything other than fish, drink, and talk "guy talk" is not how I wish to spend a weekend.
Now we aren't one of those couples that absolutely cannot spend time apart. Well, maybe we are, but I don't think of us like that.
It's just that I like to be with my wife. As much as possible.
Which is why this week will be hard.
The curse
So far this summer I've been pretty good about neglecting my devotion to the Bengals. Sports, what's the point, right?
Yes.
Now I just have to practice what I preach.
But I've been a die hard Bengals fan since I was eight. That was when I saw my very first NFL game (well, one where I kind of paid attention anyway) in which the Bengals defeated the San Diego Chargers in the 1981 AFC Championship game (a game that was known as the freezer bowl because of the 59 below zero windchill).
In fact, this game was just on the NFL Network, so I got to enjoy it all over again.
Outside of two close losses to the 49ers in the Super Bowl ('81 and '88) and an 11-5 season thanks to Carson Palmer ('05), there has not been much to be happy about in Bengaldom.
Now, Chad Johnson is creating a spectacle at mini camp. Johnson either wants a new contract (they gave him his second contract extension during the '05 season) or out of Cincinnati. Neither is going to happen. Mike Brown, the owner of the Bengals and son of legendary Paul Brown, might be a lot of things, and stubborn is certainly one of them. There is just no way he is ever going to let a player manipulate the fate of an entire team.
As this nonsense was being chronicled on the NFL Network last night, two commentators made two very good points.
1. When was the last time the Bengals had a really feel good moment?
2. There seems to be a curse hovering over the franchise.
Both of these are excellent points.
Now I'm a lover of tragedies (King Lear, Hamlet, American Beauty, Caesar . . .) but the biggest tragedy of all is the Bengals!
The feel good moments have been few and very, very far between. The tragedies are far more common.
Here's just a quick list
Despite being the quickest franchise team to reach the playoffs in their third year of existence (I believe, though, that the Jaguars and Panthers eclipsed this feat, making the playoffs in just their second seasons), they still were beset by tragedy.
First, the hire a young gun prodigy to run the offense (Bill Walsh). They draft a local legend to play quarterback (Greg Cook). Together Walsh, Cook, and Paul Brown (owner and head coach), set the NFL on fire. Cook wins rookie of the year and they have one of the best offenses in football. However, in typical Bengal fashion, in a game against Kansas City, Cook's shoulder is crushed. They don't have the medical procedures they do today, and he is rushed back to play, further injuring the shoulder. Within three years, he is done with the Bengals and soon out of the league. Walsh said many times had he stayed healthy he would have been mentioned in the same breath with Montana, Starbauch, Namath, and Bradhsaw.
Second, when it comes time for Brown to retire in the late 70s, he doesn't pick the logical choice to replace him (Walsh, his offensive coordinator). Instead he picks Tiger Johnson the O-line coach. Many believe that Brown was fearful of having his legendary status usurped by the genius of Walsh. As we all know, Walsh headed to Stanford before getting the head coaching job for the moribund 49ers. In a few years he drafts a kid named Montana in the third round and a few years later he trades up to take Jerry Rice. Well, the rest is history and Walsh ends up with three SB rings, which could have easily been half a dozen had he stayed head coach.
Third, the Bengals fortioutously run into Walsh in that '81 SB and are thoroughly outcoached. The Niners jump out to a 21-0 lead before the Bengals rally in the second half. Still, they lose 26-21.
Fourth, '84 the Bengals are sitting with the first pick in the draft. They are eyeing future hall of fame QB Steve Young out of BYU. However, Young accepts a mega deal with the USFL (remember them?) and opts out of the draft. Stunned, the Bengals trade down for three first round picks. This is only a minor tragedy because the Bengals get one of their best quarterbacks in the second round (Boomer Esiason)
Fifth, Sam Wyche gets the Bengals back to the Super Bowl seven seasons later. However, nearly everything that could go wrong does - and they still almost win the damn game. First, Stanley Wilson, their fine starting fullback, has a drug relapse the night before the big game and is carted off to jail (where he still remains, though his son is in the league now playing corner for the Lions). Next, their best defensive player, nose tackle Tim Krumrie, gruesomely breaks his leg in the first quarter. Finally, Montana takes the Niners on a 92 yard drive with less than two minutes remaining. Unable to muster much of a pass rush thanks to Krumrie being out, the Bengals give up a John Taylor touchdown pass with 32 seconds remaining. End of story.
Well, the franchise has never recovered. They have had exactly two winning seasons since.
But the curses and tragedies don't end there.
In '89, a year after missing out on a SB victory, Ickey Woods (remember the Ickey Shuffle?) who rushed for 1.066 yards and 15 touchdowns his rookie year to guide the Bengals to the SB, tears his ACL in the second game of the season. Though he tries many comebacks, his career is over.
Still reeling from lack of a running back, the Bengals move up to the first pick to select Kajana Carter, who just came of a phenomenal season for the Nittany Lions. However, in typical Bengal fashion, Carter holds out and finally signs a monster deal. On the third carry of his career, up in the Silverdome against the Lions (same place they lost to the 49ers in the '81 SB), Carter tears his ACL. He attempts many comebacks but his shiftiness is gone. He is soon out of league.
In '99 the Bengals are sitting with the third pick in the draft. The Saints, who are in love with Ricky Williams offer the Bengals their ENTIRE draft for them to just move down a few spots. Mike Brown turns it down and drafts . . . Akili Smith (who? Exactly.) Smith has a hold out and is not smart enough to be an NFL quarterback. He makes 19 appearances and is quickly out of the league. In the second round of that draft, they take a corner out of West Virginia by the name of Charles Fischer. He wins a starting job in the secondary. However, on his first play in the opening game of the season, at Tennessee, he turns to back pedal and wrecks his knee. He never plays another down in the NFL again. (on a lesser note, the Bengals had a free agent cornerback that year who also tore his knee up that day. However, when it came time the following year in training camp to run the 40 yard dash, that cornerback tore the same knee up again! Cursed!)
In '03 things seem to change for the Bengals. After whiffing horribly on three franchise quarterbacks (Jack Thompson, David Klinger, and Akili Smith), they draft the gold boy, Carson Palmer, with the first pick in the draft. He is the hope of the franchise (and he will go on to breathe life back into it). However, they draft a corner back out of Oregon State by the name of Dennis Weathersby. Horribly, he was a victim of a gang shooting and was placed in critical condition prior to the draft. Still, the Bengals take a chance in the fourth round on a kid with first round talent. Weathersby fights his way back and plays a little his rookie year. Just when the Bengals are looking for him to really contribute in his second year, he is in a terrible car accident and sustains serious head and neck injuries - to the point where the coaching staff just hopes he can live a normal life. He never plays another down of football.
In '05 the Bengals are poised for big things. Palmer is the quarterback they have been looking for (he engineers a phenomenal 19 point comeback in Baltimore, a place the Bengals use to NEVER win, and he bludgeons them for over 300 yards passing and three touchdowns). The '05 draft is rich with talent. Needing to build a defense around their young signal caller, the Bengals draft David Pollack to play OLB. Pollack was the top SEC defensive lineman of not only the decade but probably the entire history of the SEC. In the second round they take a middle linebacker named Odell Thurman. In the third round they take a fliar on a troubled but vastly talented WR, Chris Henry, who stands 6'4'' and clocks a sub 4.4 40.
All of these players help the Bengals capture their first AFC North title and return to the playoffs for the first time since '90. Thurman is a serious contender for rookie of the year as he forces 5 fumbles, chronicles 5 interceptions, and helps lead them in tackles. Pollack contributes four sacks and is playing his best football of year in the final games. Henry is a game breaking, reeling in 8 touchdowns and giving Palmer three superb wide receivers.
However, only 4 years later, things have gone awry. Pollack had to retire after breaking his neck in the second game of his second season. Thurman was a drunk and couldn't overcome his addiction despite the shot at millions of dollars. He was banned for the '06 and '07 seasons. He was back with the team this year, but following the death of his grandmother, he began drinking again. The Bengals released him and now Thurman is facing a possible (and more than likely) permanent suspension from the NFL. Henry was banned for part of the '07 season. However, he was accused of battery and the Bengals released him.
Instead of having two cornerstones of their defense and a young WR to replace Johnson and his antics, they have zilch.
Oh yeah, and in the biggest tragedy of all, in their first playoff game in 15 years, their all world quarterback, chucks a 66 bomb to Henry, who hauls it in, on the second play of the game. In typical Bengals fashion though Palmer's left knee is crushed by Kimo Von Olhoffen (a former Bengal himself). It is a grisly injury. The Bengals collapse 17-34 (despite leading at half time) and a pall is cast over the franchise yet again. Worse still, the team they lose to, their arch-rivals, the Steelers, go on to win the entire thing!
However, Palmer miraculously recovers and starts the season opener. However, the defense is porous and the offense isn't as powerful as it was the previous year. Still, the Bengals beat the Ravens at home to keep their playoff chances alive. They then throttle the Raiders and Browns to almost secure a playoff spot. All they have to do is win one of their final three games. It doesn't get any simpler than that. Win and you're in.
First up - Denver. They are clearly the better team. But they play one of the lousiest games of the year. On the second play safety Dexter Jackson picks a pass off and returns it to the three. Yet, Palmer tosses a pick in the end zone and the Bengals get zero points. Then, driving for a key score, the Bengals are pounding the piss out of the Broncos defense with their no huddle offense. On first down, running back Rudi Johnson, who has been gashing the Broncos on the drive, hits the hole for a big gain. The Bengals snapped the ball quickly and the Broncos defensive linemen are so tired they are not only lined up wrong but they're standing up! The only one really playing defense is safety, who clocks Johnson and causes him to fumble. Zero points.
Finally, the Bengals tie the game with a few seconds left. All they have to do is kick the PAT and head to over time where they can use their momentum to win. But they miss the extra point.
All is not lost yet. They recover the onside kick! Yet, in typical Bengals fashion, one of the players was offsides and the play doesn't count. Game over. No playoffs yet.
Second chance - Indianapolis. Forget about it. The Colts pulverize the Bengals.
Last chance -at home against the Steelers. Palmer has a chance to exact revenge against the team that tore his knee up the previous season. In fact, late in the game he hits Henry on another 66 yard pass. The Bengals set themselves up for a chip shot 37 yard field goal with under a minute to play. However, their kicker misses it wide right.
The Steelers win the coin toss in over time and elect to receive. On their second play from scrimmage their rookie receiver Santonio Holmes hits a seem and is gone. Game over and season over.
Cursed? Ya think?
Yes.
Now I just have to practice what I preach.
But I've been a die hard Bengals fan since I was eight. That was when I saw my very first NFL game (well, one where I kind of paid attention anyway) in which the Bengals defeated the San Diego Chargers in the 1981 AFC Championship game (a game that was known as the freezer bowl because of the 59 below zero windchill).
In fact, this game was just on the NFL Network, so I got to enjoy it all over again.
Outside of two close losses to the 49ers in the Super Bowl ('81 and '88) and an 11-5 season thanks to Carson Palmer ('05), there has not been much to be happy about in Bengaldom.
Now, Chad Johnson is creating a spectacle at mini camp. Johnson either wants a new contract (they gave him his second contract extension during the '05 season) or out of Cincinnati. Neither is going to happen. Mike Brown, the owner of the Bengals and son of legendary Paul Brown, might be a lot of things, and stubborn is certainly one of them. There is just no way he is ever going to let a player manipulate the fate of an entire team.
As this nonsense was being chronicled on the NFL Network last night, two commentators made two very good points.
1. When was the last time the Bengals had a really feel good moment?
2. There seems to be a curse hovering over the franchise.
Both of these are excellent points.
Now I'm a lover of tragedies (King Lear, Hamlet, American Beauty, Caesar . . .) but the biggest tragedy of all is the Bengals!
The feel good moments have been few and very, very far between. The tragedies are far more common.
Here's just a quick list
Despite being the quickest franchise team to reach the playoffs in their third year of existence (I believe, though, that the Jaguars and Panthers eclipsed this feat, making the playoffs in just their second seasons), they still were beset by tragedy.
First, the hire a young gun prodigy to run the offense (Bill Walsh). They draft a local legend to play quarterback (Greg Cook). Together Walsh, Cook, and Paul Brown (owner and head coach), set the NFL on fire. Cook wins rookie of the year and they have one of the best offenses in football. However, in typical Bengal fashion, in a game against Kansas City, Cook's shoulder is crushed. They don't have the medical procedures they do today, and he is rushed back to play, further injuring the shoulder. Within three years, he is done with the Bengals and soon out of the league. Walsh said many times had he stayed healthy he would have been mentioned in the same breath with Montana, Starbauch, Namath, and Bradhsaw.
Second, when it comes time for Brown to retire in the late 70s, he doesn't pick the logical choice to replace him (Walsh, his offensive coordinator). Instead he picks Tiger Johnson the O-line coach. Many believe that Brown was fearful of having his legendary status usurped by the genius of Walsh. As we all know, Walsh headed to Stanford before getting the head coaching job for the moribund 49ers. In a few years he drafts a kid named Montana in the third round and a few years later he trades up to take Jerry Rice. Well, the rest is history and Walsh ends up with three SB rings, which could have easily been half a dozen had he stayed head coach.
Third, the Bengals fortioutously run into Walsh in that '81 SB and are thoroughly outcoached. The Niners jump out to a 21-0 lead before the Bengals rally in the second half. Still, they lose 26-21.
Fourth, '84 the Bengals are sitting with the first pick in the draft. They are eyeing future hall of fame QB Steve Young out of BYU. However, Young accepts a mega deal with the USFL (remember them?) and opts out of the draft. Stunned, the Bengals trade down for three first round picks. This is only a minor tragedy because the Bengals get one of their best quarterbacks in the second round (Boomer Esiason)
Fifth, Sam Wyche gets the Bengals back to the Super Bowl seven seasons later. However, nearly everything that could go wrong does - and they still almost win the damn game. First, Stanley Wilson, their fine starting fullback, has a drug relapse the night before the big game and is carted off to jail (where he still remains, though his son is in the league now playing corner for the Lions). Next, their best defensive player, nose tackle Tim Krumrie, gruesomely breaks his leg in the first quarter. Finally, Montana takes the Niners on a 92 yard drive with less than two minutes remaining. Unable to muster much of a pass rush thanks to Krumrie being out, the Bengals give up a John Taylor touchdown pass with 32 seconds remaining. End of story.
Well, the franchise has never recovered. They have had exactly two winning seasons since.
But the curses and tragedies don't end there.
In '89, a year after missing out on a SB victory, Ickey Woods (remember the Ickey Shuffle?) who rushed for 1.066 yards and 15 touchdowns his rookie year to guide the Bengals to the SB, tears his ACL in the second game of the season. Though he tries many comebacks, his career is over.
Still reeling from lack of a running back, the Bengals move up to the first pick to select Kajana Carter, who just came of a phenomenal season for the Nittany Lions. However, in typical Bengal fashion, Carter holds out and finally signs a monster deal. On the third carry of his career, up in the Silverdome against the Lions (same place they lost to the 49ers in the '81 SB), Carter tears his ACL. He attempts many comebacks but his shiftiness is gone. He is soon out of league.
In '99 the Bengals are sitting with the third pick in the draft. The Saints, who are in love with Ricky Williams offer the Bengals their ENTIRE draft for them to just move down a few spots. Mike Brown turns it down and drafts . . . Akili Smith (who? Exactly.) Smith has a hold out and is not smart enough to be an NFL quarterback. He makes 19 appearances and is quickly out of the league. In the second round of that draft, they take a corner out of West Virginia by the name of Charles Fischer. He wins a starting job in the secondary. However, on his first play in the opening game of the season, at Tennessee, he turns to back pedal and wrecks his knee. He never plays another down in the NFL again. (on a lesser note, the Bengals had a free agent cornerback that year who also tore his knee up that day. However, when it came time the following year in training camp to run the 40 yard dash, that cornerback tore the same knee up again! Cursed!)
In '03 things seem to change for the Bengals. After whiffing horribly on three franchise quarterbacks (Jack Thompson, David Klinger, and Akili Smith), they draft the gold boy, Carson Palmer, with the first pick in the draft. He is the hope of the franchise (and he will go on to breathe life back into it). However, they draft a corner back out of Oregon State by the name of Dennis Weathersby. Horribly, he was a victim of a gang shooting and was placed in critical condition prior to the draft. Still, the Bengals take a chance in the fourth round on a kid with first round talent. Weathersby fights his way back and plays a little his rookie year. Just when the Bengals are looking for him to really contribute in his second year, he is in a terrible car accident and sustains serious head and neck injuries - to the point where the coaching staff just hopes he can live a normal life. He never plays another down of football.
In '05 the Bengals are poised for big things. Palmer is the quarterback they have been looking for (he engineers a phenomenal 19 point comeback in Baltimore, a place the Bengals use to NEVER win, and he bludgeons them for over 300 yards passing and three touchdowns). The '05 draft is rich with talent. Needing to build a defense around their young signal caller, the Bengals draft David Pollack to play OLB. Pollack was the top SEC defensive lineman of not only the decade but probably the entire history of the SEC. In the second round they take a middle linebacker named Odell Thurman. In the third round they take a fliar on a troubled but vastly talented WR, Chris Henry, who stands 6'4'' and clocks a sub 4.4 40.
All of these players help the Bengals capture their first AFC North title and return to the playoffs for the first time since '90. Thurman is a serious contender for rookie of the year as he forces 5 fumbles, chronicles 5 interceptions, and helps lead them in tackles. Pollack contributes four sacks and is playing his best football of year in the final games. Henry is a game breaking, reeling in 8 touchdowns and giving Palmer three superb wide receivers.
However, only 4 years later, things have gone awry. Pollack had to retire after breaking his neck in the second game of his second season. Thurman was a drunk and couldn't overcome his addiction despite the shot at millions of dollars. He was banned for the '06 and '07 seasons. He was back with the team this year, but following the death of his grandmother, he began drinking again. The Bengals released him and now Thurman is facing a possible (and more than likely) permanent suspension from the NFL. Henry was banned for part of the '07 season. However, he was accused of battery and the Bengals released him.
Instead of having two cornerstones of their defense and a young WR to replace Johnson and his antics, they have zilch.
Oh yeah, and in the biggest tragedy of all, in their first playoff game in 15 years, their all world quarterback, chucks a 66 bomb to Henry, who hauls it in, on the second play of the game. In typical Bengals fashion though Palmer's left knee is crushed by Kimo Von Olhoffen (a former Bengal himself). It is a grisly injury. The Bengals collapse 17-34 (despite leading at half time) and a pall is cast over the franchise yet again. Worse still, the team they lose to, their arch-rivals, the Steelers, go on to win the entire thing!
However, Palmer miraculously recovers and starts the season opener. However, the defense is porous and the offense isn't as powerful as it was the previous year. Still, the Bengals beat the Ravens at home to keep their playoff chances alive. They then throttle the Raiders and Browns to almost secure a playoff spot. All they have to do is win one of their final three games. It doesn't get any simpler than that. Win and you're in.
First up - Denver. They are clearly the better team. But they play one of the lousiest games of the year. On the second play safety Dexter Jackson picks a pass off and returns it to the three. Yet, Palmer tosses a pick in the end zone and the Bengals get zero points. Then, driving for a key score, the Bengals are pounding the piss out of the Broncos defense with their no huddle offense. On first down, running back Rudi Johnson, who has been gashing the Broncos on the drive, hits the hole for a big gain. The Bengals snapped the ball quickly and the Broncos defensive linemen are so tired they are not only lined up wrong but they're standing up! The only one really playing defense is safety, who clocks Johnson and causes him to fumble. Zero points.
Finally, the Bengals tie the game with a few seconds left. All they have to do is kick the PAT and head to over time where they can use their momentum to win. But they miss the extra point.
All is not lost yet. They recover the onside kick! Yet, in typical Bengals fashion, one of the players was offsides and the play doesn't count. Game over. No playoffs yet.
Second chance - Indianapolis. Forget about it. The Colts pulverize the Bengals.
Last chance -at home against the Steelers. Palmer has a chance to exact revenge against the team that tore his knee up the previous season. In fact, late in the game he hits Henry on another 66 yard pass. The Bengals set themselves up for a chip shot 37 yard field goal with under a minute to play. However, their kicker misses it wide right.
The Steelers win the coin toss in over time and elect to receive. On their second play from scrimmage their rookie receiver Santonio Holmes hits a seem and is gone. Game over and season over.
Cursed? Ya think?
Now the real work begins
Well, the carpet in our upstairs hallway is gone. Of course, it was not as easy as I hoped.
The carpet was severely glued to the beautiful hardwood floors beneath, just as it had been in KoKo's room. Mercifully, it was only nailed down in our bedroom. However, since every inch of the floor now has glue and remnants of the bottom of the carpet and pieces of fabric, the real work begins.
Now we saturate it in glue removed and - well - scrape the hell out of it.
That should take a couple of days.
Please, if you have beautiful hard wood floors - never lay carpet over them! Carpet comes and goes - remember, shag carpet? Or ugly patterns? But hard wood is always beautiful. Leave it that way.
Slowly but surely the carpet comes up.
Of course, there are little surprises like this bugger (which looks like something the church used to torture non-believers during the Inquisition) which was used to hold down the last remnant of the carpet right before the landing for the stairs (unfortunately, I had to remove about 25 of these things when I pulled up the carpet on the stairs).
The first section is pulled up. Next, get rid of the glue!
The carpet was severely glued to the beautiful hardwood floors beneath, just as it had been in KoKo's room. Mercifully, it was only nailed down in our bedroom. However, since every inch of the floor now has glue and remnants of the bottom of the carpet and pieces of fabric, the real work begins.
Now we saturate it in glue removed and - well - scrape the hell out of it.
That should take a couple of days.
Please, if you have beautiful hard wood floors - never lay carpet over them! Carpet comes and goes - remember, shag carpet? Or ugly patterns? But hard wood is always beautiful. Leave it that way.
Slowly but surely the carpet comes up.
Of course, there are little surprises like this bugger (which looks like something the church used to torture non-believers during the Inquisition) which was used to hold down the last remnant of the carpet right before the landing for the stairs (unfortunately, I had to remove about 25 of these things when I pulled up the carpet on the stairs).
The first section is pulled up. Next, get rid of the glue!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
The Vet
Not only was Boo getting fixed and declawed at the vet, but Joker and Kozy also had their shots due.
It was not an easy task. Kozy alone is nearly impossible to walk. And even though Joker is one of the best behaved dogs I have ever seen, that doesn't make up for Kozy.
However, I managed to get them both on leashes and into the vet's office.
When she came in, she checked my name and asked if I was Tex's nephew.
I said no. I was his son.
She was amazed.
So we visited some. I knew that Dad loved her and enjoyed visiting with her whenever he had to bring a pet in or whenever she had to make a run out to the farm for one of our sheep.
When I told the vet that I was ten and twelve years behind my sister and brother, it finally clicked for her.
"You look just like Barb," she said.
I figured that was the best compliment Barb has ever gotten!
Then the vet said how kind both my parents were. She also said how she enjoyed bringing her daughter, who would have been around one at the time, out to the farm to see all of the lambs.
At one point, the vet and Dad were working on a ewe. The vet set her daughter in a pen to watch the lambs jump and run by her. While the vet was working on the ewe, Dad gazed over he shoulder and said, "You might not want to look at your daughter."
Of course, the vet did.
Sure enough there was her daughter throwing small pellets of sheet manure into her mouth like they were m&m's!
She missed both my parents.
As do I.
****
I got the best father's day gift ever today.
KoKo, though she is all the way in South Dakota, sent me a handmade card. It reads "Happy Father's day Kurty (her nickname for me)" on the cover. Inside it reads, "It feels like you have been a part of my life more then 5 years. I love (only she drew a heart) U & miss U." And on back: a heart and "Your KoKo Beanter (my nickname for her)."
What a little girl!
It was not an easy task. Kozy alone is nearly impossible to walk. And even though Joker is one of the best behaved dogs I have ever seen, that doesn't make up for Kozy.
However, I managed to get them both on leashes and into the vet's office.
When she came in, she checked my name and asked if I was Tex's nephew.
I said no. I was his son.
She was amazed.
So we visited some. I knew that Dad loved her and enjoyed visiting with her whenever he had to bring a pet in or whenever she had to make a run out to the farm for one of our sheep.
When I told the vet that I was ten and twelve years behind my sister and brother, it finally clicked for her.
"You look just like Barb," she said.
I figured that was the best compliment Barb has ever gotten!
Then the vet said how kind both my parents were. She also said how she enjoyed bringing her daughter, who would have been around one at the time, out to the farm to see all of the lambs.
At one point, the vet and Dad were working on a ewe. The vet set her daughter in a pen to watch the lambs jump and run by her. While the vet was working on the ewe, Dad gazed over he shoulder and said, "You might not want to look at your daughter."
Of course, the vet did.
Sure enough there was her daughter throwing small pellets of sheet manure into her mouth like they were m&m's!
She missed both my parents.
As do I.
****
I got the best father's day gift ever today.
KoKo, though she is all the way in South Dakota, sent me a handmade card. It reads "Happy Father's day Kurty (her nickname for me)" on the cover. Inside it reads, "It feels like you have been a part of my life more then 5 years. I love (only she drew a heart) U & miss U." And on back: a heart and "Your KoKo Beanter (my nickname for her)."
What a little girl!
New family members
Somehow, when Kristie's ex moved out of his house here in town, not only did we end up helping him move (go figure that one - he actually thought poor Casey could move things out all by himself), but we also ended up getting his fish (he was going to, well, let's just say he was going to dispose of them).
KoKo would have been beside herself had she learned of their fate! So we took them in.
However, Mischa instantly took an interest in them. This was closely followed by Einer.
If these fish don't get a complex soon, I'd be amazed. How'd you like to live under such pressure?
Good thing the aquarium is secure.
Actually, now I'm thinking about maybe adding a few more. Though I have to admit, it seems damn cruel to lock something as beautiful as these fish up in a little one foot about two foot tank. I don't even like walking by the fish tanks at Walmart. God only knows the fate of most of those fish.
KoKo would have been beside herself had she learned of their fate! So we took them in.
However, Mischa instantly took an interest in them. This was closely followed by Einer.
If these fish don't get a complex soon, I'd be amazed. How'd you like to live under such pressure?
Good thing the aquarium is secure.
Actually, now I'm thinking about maybe adding a few more. Though I have to admit, it seems damn cruel to lock something as beautiful as these fish up in a little one foot about two foot tank. I don't even like walking by the fish tanks at Walmart. God only knows the fate of most of those fish.
Back yard antics
Kozy tries to get Joker to play with her. But you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Joker is having none of it. He won't even play fetch with you. Kozy would fetch all day. She doesn't always give the fetched item back, which is why when I play with her I have about half a dozen sticks and one baseball.
Our neighbor's dog, Boomer, is trying to get in on the action.
Our neighbor's dog, Boomer, is trying to get in on the action.
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