In my harried Tuesday, I neglected to get this post in. But today it’s no less important.
Thank you to all Veterans. Past, present, and future. Thank you for your sacrifices, your commitment, your honor, your love of country, your selflessness, and for your willingness to do whatever it takes to keep us free. There are no words that I can put here that will even begin to adequately express the gratitude and respect I have for each and every one of you.
Thank you.
Ahhh… the countless hours I spent in front of the TV playing Tetris on the trusty NES as this song droned on endlessly in the background… Good times.
Thanks go out to the Zamboni Man for providing us with such an exquisite display of putting one’s mind 100% to the task of wasting time.
My good buddy Ken often says to me, “It’s the simple things”. Now, if you don’t know Ken, or you don’t really know me, and especially if you haven’t been around Ken and me on a lazy Saturday, you won’t have much of a clue what that means. Nevertheless…
Last weekend I got a few old bits for my fire truck project, and laid claim to a bunch more that are soon to be removed from a truck destined for the scrap yard. It’s almost spiritual in some low-level, sick and twisted way. One truck gives up it’s last good bits so that another can live on to leak oil another day.
I don’t mean to go off waxing philosophical on you here, just suffice to say that once again, I proved that well worn axiom, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure”.
If you’ve got no idea what I’m rambling on about, you prolly never will. But for those of you who do, check this out, and remember, it’s the simple things.
Yes indeedy, the San Jose Sharks season opener is TONIGHT!!! Boy it’s been a long summer! FINALLY something to watch on TV besides the stupid political dog-and-pony show! And needless to say, I should be easy to find between 7:30 and 10:00 or so this evening.
So in celebration of this most momentous occasion, here’s one of my very favorite tunes to sing along with at the arena:
Reggie Dunlop: Gloves off, stick down, no warning, he challenged the Chiefs!
Steve Hanson: Called us names!
Reggie Dunlop: Called us names! But Dave was there.
Steve Hanson: Dave’s a killer!
Johnny Upton: Dave’s a mess.
Reggie Dunlop: But Dave’s out. Who’s gonna take his place?
Ned Braden: Is the answer Jesus?
Reggie Dunlop: [looks at the Hanson brothers] Ok guys. Show us what you got.
So long Reggie. Thanks for everything. We’ll miss you.
I hate politics. I loathe politics. Nay, I abhor politics.
But Myzamboni sent this to me, and I think it’s worthy of a look…
No one needs to speak the significance of today’s date. Most people still remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. It devastated me as it did all Americans. Many people lost loved ones that day, and the world changed forever on that morning. On that day, I was a firefighter, and on that day, being a firefighter took on new meaning for me.
Since then, I’ve left the fire department, but on many occasions have spent time in solemn reflection on those 343 brother and sister firefighters that gave their lives, as well as all the lives lost that day, and all the families that have suffered because of those despicable, cowardly men that attacked innocent civilians.
Today I think of the 343, and am reminded of the cost of freedom, and that the price of freedom will never be paid for in full.
I didn’t know you, but I will never forget you.
As I slog through the great adventure of life, some things become crystal clear, some remain constant, while others become or are still as transparent as used motor oil. Sure, that would make sense… as I roll up more miles on the ol’ odometer, I gain more experience. And as a predictable result, I have begun to have a broader understanding of the things around me. And as an interesting side benefit, I have gained a better appreciation for the things I’ve learned along the way that haven’t been pushed out of my brain by some random piece of “B” movie dialog, or a torque spec for an obscure fastener on a truck nobody has seen on the road in 30 years.
But on the other side of that hubcap is all the stuff that I once had some kind of a handle on, but now find myself quite vexed when I snap out of my computer-code-induced coma and think about. Yeah, I know… stuff changes, life changes, people change, time moves on and waits for no one. This is all just the natural progression of life here on the 3rd rock from the Sun. But sometimes for me, these worn out aphorisms are often nothing more than ornate containers filled with Styrofoam packing peanuts when viewing the world around me through my 3d glasses.
What am I blabbering on about now you ask? It’s the whole concept of “Geek”.
As a young lad with my bell bottom jeans and my bowl haircut, I was led to believe that a “geek” was someone that was unqualified to participate in sports, usually showed significant aptitude in all things academic (particularly mathematics), and was rumored to have a pencil for a neck. In general, the geek was a pariah of sorts, only finding favor with other “geeks”. And the geek was harassed, tormented, regularly reintroduced to the boys toilet (head first), and was in general, the primary prey of the elementary school Fabio wannabe crowd. Bottom line, acquiring the title of “geek” was something you would by all means avoid with any and all resources available if you wanted to be a “normal” kid.
This understanding of geekdom followed me on through my childhood, into my teen years, and then something happened. Those guys… what’s their names again, Jobs and Wozniak? Well, at any rate, those “geeks” came up with something called the “personal computer” and right before my eyes, the whole geek landscape began to slowly experience a paradigm shift.
Little by little, the geeks were guys that still looked like the geeks of my youth, but now they had become something of a phenomena. They were the guys that made it possible for you to fight off the invaders from space and save the earth. They were the guys that enabled you to blow every quarter you could harvest out of the couch, or nag out of Dad’s pockets by destroying rocks in outer space, or making a little yellow pie consume enough dots in a maze until you were rewarded with a 5 second cartoon that didn’t make any sense.
Now, the geeks started evolving into the ones with the nicest cars, the coolest houses, the latest and coolest gadgets, and were the toast of the town. They singlehandedly turned a sleepy agrarian community of orchards and farms into something that became known as Silicon Valley. They made all the money, and became the ones that tell the Fabio wanna-bes of days gone by what to do. This is a geek? Not by the definition I grew up with.
Growing up, I was under the impression that I was not a geek, and that was a good thing. Only now, and too late perhaps, am I beginning to realize that I’m still not really a geek, but that isn’t necessesarily a good thing after all. Sure, I pose regularly as a geek, and in many parts of the country I could qualify as a lower echelon geek, but here amidst the royalty of geekdom in Sillycon Valley, I’m just a poser with a slightly perceptible slant toward geekery.
So what does all this mean? I guess it just boils back down to everything changes, including me. And yet, through all I have seen, done, been to, learned, and grown, I still have yet to find a way to define my persona or “style” with any of the common labels found in contemporary society. And more importantly perhaps, it seems to me that to a very large extent I march to the beat of a different drummer.
And now that I think about it, it’s not at all a bad thing, really.
This weekend, Nik and I had the opportunity to hang out with my Cuz and his Girl. We had a fantastic time, and hated the weekend had to go by so quickly.
My Cuz has 2 kitties that are very unique individuals. They always seem to be able to communicate exactly what they want. And we got to hang out with them a bit this weekend, and observe their communication skills in action.
This little vid reminds me of them…
Okay, I admit I’ve covered this ground so much before that now all you can see are my footprints. Do I need to further comment on this particular subject? Probably not. Does anyone really care? Unlikely. Is my insatiable fascination with this particular vehicle a bit juvenile? Perhaps.
But who cares! Check this!
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