Jackie Cash

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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.

One week without fries.

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Without any fried food, as a matter of fact. The new diet is no great strain, at least in terms of what I don’t eat. I’m not up to the 30 pieces of fruit a day called for (maybe it’s eight) but I’ll get there. My desk is littered with bagels and trail mix and those little carrot nubby things.

Why shouldn’t I work for the N.S.A.?

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“Why shouldn’t I work for the N.S.A.? That’s a tough one, but I’ll take a shot. Say I’m working at the N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I’m real happy with myself, ’cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people that I never met and that I never had no problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin’, “Send in the marines to secure the area” ’cause they don’t give a shit. It won’t be their kid over there, gettin’ shot. Just like it wasn’t them when their number was called, ’cause they were pullin’ a tour in the National Guard. It’ll be some kid from Southie takin’ shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, ’cause he’ll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain’t helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They’re takin’ their sweet time bringin’ the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin’ play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain’t too long ’til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy’s out of work and he can’t afford to drive, so he’s walking to the fuckin’ job interviews, which sucks ’cause the schrapnel in his ass is givin’ him chronic hemorroids. And meanwhile he’s starvin’ ’cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they’re servin’ is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I’m holdin’ out for somethin’ better. I figure, fuck it, while I’m at it, why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.”

From Good Will Hunting, written by Matt Damon & Ben Affleck

Game Day (2003)

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I spent most of Saturday doing something I’ve wanted to do for years. I shot some video of “game day” at Learfield Communications.

Our company produces the radio broadcasts (some TV?) for many of the top colleges in the country. Play-by-play crews feed back the game broadcasts to Jefferson City where some very hard working folks mush it all together and send it (via satellite) to radio stations throughout the country. Mega-stress. Give me a few days to edit the video and I’ll post something here. My little project will fall far short of capturing what it’s really like on a Saturday. You gotta be there.

DASH Diet

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That’s the name of my new cholesterol-lowering diet. It’s just a short walk to becoming a full-fledged vegetarian. The booklet says I should think of meat as a condiment rather than an entree. Can I give up Barb’s good burgers? I don’t know. With a few such exceptions, food is little more than fuel for me so I’m not really giving up much. Of the seven risk factors for heart attack, I have three. I’m over 50. I’m male. And my cholesterol is high. I’ll consider going trans-gender if I can’t stick to the new diet. Stay tuned.

Cataract surgery

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“At 7:30 am I arrive from cataract surgery. At 8:15 they are done. The prep takes longer than the 7 minute operation where they put a suck out my old lens, put in a new one perfectly matched to my site — like a little internal contact lens — to give me 20/20 vision.” [Halley’s Comment]

Barb’s new Lexus

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Barb’s Camry died (after ten years) so it was off to St. Louis to shop for a new one this weekend. I spent two very comfortable hours in the waiting area of the Lexus dealership while Barb talked herself into buying an RX330. Hard to call something this nice a sport utility vehicle. I confess to being pretty impressed with the Lexus “experience.” A greeter met us when we arrived and introduced Barb to her “sales and leasing consultant.” Apparently, you don’t have to sell the Lexus. The consultant is there to “assist you with your purchase.”

Lots of nice touches. If you have a breakdown on the road, Lexus sends out a flat-bed truck (“…we don’t tow”), puts you up in a hotel and provides you with a loaner. I watched the switchboard operator for a couple of hours. When she paged someone from the parts department, they arrived as quickly as they could. If they tagged on “…for a customer” to the page, the person arrived immediately. Just lots of little things like that. The dealership provided lunch for all employees. So, we started with a Tercel, then a Corolla, a Camry, 4 Runner and now, a Lexus. Well over a million miles in Toyota’s.