October 28, 1978

It was a Saturday. Barb and I got married in her parents’ living room just before kick-off of the Missouri Tiger game. There was probably less than a dozen of us in the room since we limited the attendees to immediate family only.

Barb & Steve - Wedding Day

Reverend Paul Harlan rode his bike in honor of the beautiful fall day. The ceremony couldn’t have taken more than 15 minutes. The “reception” was held on the Miltenberger patio and featured Igloo coolers full of beer. Late in the afternoon, everyone when home to get into Halloween costumes for the big party. I persuaded Barb that sending out engraved invitations was a cheesy plea for a gift. Our Halloween Party invitation did double duty. It was a great wedding…a great party…and every day of the past 25 years with Barb has been great. [Larger image]

Mom is not gonna be happy about this

“The first time we drove by your old house we saw some very strange looking construction – boxes on poles in the back yard. The next time we drove by there were about 12 – 15 birds in the street. At first we thought they were small chickens they looked more like chickens that pigeons but later deduced they must have been pigeons and must reside in those strange looking constructions in the back yard.” — Buddy Shively on recent visit to Kenentt

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Scary week.

Our oldest pup got really sick on Monday of last week. Took her to the the local vet and by Wednesday it looked like we might lose her. Thursday morning Barb suggested we take her to the MU vet school where they found a nasty thing on her liver and did emergency surgery. Still not out of the woods but looking better every day. When I get really sick, this is where I want to be taken. This is great facility with really smart, caring people.

Jackie Cash

I haven’t seen Jackie Cash in thirty (thirty-five?) years. She was a year behind me in high school and I had a bit of a crush on her. She found her way to a couple of my websites last week:

“…we watched her nephews Everett and Matthew sing about Rudy and then she read every word about KBOA the early days. She really enjoyed it. You have a 20 minute interview with Paul about the radio and it was neat for them to hear his voice and share it with Robin’s children who never knew Mr. Jones. I just thought you’d like to know how you’re reaching people.”

This is, for me, the reason we spend countless hours constructing these websites. In hopes that somebody will find them and find them interesting. (Why has the “letter-in-a-bottle” analogy never occurred to me before?)

As I read Jackie’s email, the image I had of her was the high school girl I knew. And then I realized that she is now in her early fifties and –probably– older than her mother was when we were in high school. I confess to a strange sense of loss that’s hard to explain. My youth, perhaps.

Rush Limbaugh birth announcement

“Rush H. III has been selected as the name for a son, born to Mr. and Mrs. Rush H. Limbaugh Jr., 412 Sunset Boulevard, at 7:50 a.m. Friday at Southeast Missouri Hospital. The child is the first in the family and weighed 7 pounds 6 ounces. Mrs. Limbaugh was formerly Miss Mildred Armstrong, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. G. A. Armstrong of Kennett. Mr. Limbaugh is associated with his father in the law firm of Limbaugh & Limbaugh.”

From a Rush Limbaugh fan site. I can’t verify it, but I’m pretty sure Mildred worked at KBOA back in the early fifties.

Sons of the Western Boohteel

“In August of 1990, I received a call from the organizers of the Hornersville Sesquicentennial Celebration. They were looking for cheap entertainment and wanted my barbershop quartet. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), that quartet was defunct. What about cowboy songs instead?, I asked. Cowboy songs would be just fine.”

From The Secret Origins of The Sons of the Western Bootheel. I’ve created a little “fan page” although I’m not sure one performance qualifies me as a fan. Download and listen to some of the songs. The guys are pretty good and there’s a real honesty to thier music.

RSS.

I have to do some more homework before I can take a stab at explaining RSS but Chris Pirillo says it’s the next big thing and few people understand the online world better. My friend John insists he’s disappointed when he takes the time to check this journal only to find there’s nothing new. RSS makes it possible for him to be alerted (NOT by email) when this page –or others– is updated. More to come.

Gnomedex: Des Moines, IA

Opened up the windows on the 4Runner…cranked up the XM Radio…and headed for Des Moines and Gnomedex 3. Hundreds of geeks (and one wannabe) from all over the country descend on Des Moines for two days. Much more fun than the big computer/technology shows. Dinner with O. Kay Henderson who has great new hair cut (yeah, I know that sounds gay but I can only admire, not do it, so…). She’s interviewing John Kerry today and asked if I had any questions she wanted her to ask him. I couldn’t think of any.

Random thoughts

Tonight I backed up three of the (how many?) websites I’ve created. I find the very idea of “backing up” very… satisfying. The thing I liked least about what I used to do and most about what I do now is that at the end of the day (literally, not figuratively), something exists that didn’t before. Now, you might argue that web pages are a bit intangible by their very nature. But you can look at them and show them to others and…once you’ve burned them to a CD…hold them in your hand. A few hundred megabites that represents *hundreds* of hours of work and thought (and whatever creativity I could muster). My best efforts. Tomorrow I’ll stop by the bank and slide the CD’s into a safe deposit box. And if the servers at MyHosting.com or Learfield go up in smoke… I’ll upload my files to a new server and all those hours live on. KBOA: The Early Years, The Basement Diaries, Amberjack Landing, *this* blog… one day they didn’t exist, the next day they did. They do. They will.

My previous job was to persuade other people to do things they usually didn’t want to do. To talk them into it. To check to see if they did the things they were “supposed to do.” And agreed to do. Nothing new was created unless I was able to convince someone else that it should be. That’s why “managers” make more money than the people they manage. It’s a nearly impossible job that isn’t very satisfying, even if you do it really well. And –here’s the best part– the people you’re paid to manage resent you for trying to do it (as they should) and long for they day they get to be in charge and manage others. Talk about punishment fitting the crime. But I’ve escaped, like Tim Robbins in Shawshank Redemption. If there were a book, we might call it “Life After Management: Clawing My Way Back Down the Corporate Ladder.” A little long, maybe.