There were few wrestling fans (or wrestlers) in my circle of friends in Huron, S.D. We all seemed to follow basketball and football, and, of course, baseball. There was very little discussion about sports like wrestling and hockey.
That all changed for me when I started covering sports for a living, back in the late 1960s. I can very clearly point to the time when I started to love wrestling: covering Vern Tate's Huron College Scalper team, led by stars like Bill Ehlers, Gary Keck, Randy Donovan and my fraternity pledge brother, Jerry Pickinpaugh. Covering HC's wrestling duals was a special event, especially in the Huron College gymnasium, aptly named "The Pit." The wrestlers on this team had to love performing at home, in an old-school gym that still had the stage and overhanging balcony. The better for HC fans, mainly students, to stick their legs through the railings, virtually hanging over the wrestling mat. Their boosting was so impressive that wrestlers like Pickinpaugh were known to smash their head into the wooden doors in the gym as they "psyched up" for a match. That was "before" they took the mat.
The scene with the fans igniting a fire under the wrestlers was literally enough to make the hairs stand up on your neck. I can vividly recall going my first matches. No expert at wrestling to be sure, I was nevertheless hooked by the atmosphere. Though I didn't know a takedown from an escape, I loved being in a place that was so ... competitive and exhilarating. What more could you ask on a Friday or Saturday night? Fans were screaming "NEXT!" as each successive Southern Pointer or Dakota Wesleyan Tiger took the mat.
HC was virtually unbeatable at home, and over the years, Tate's crew rolled up impressive NAIA statistics.
After covering this spectacle, it was quite a bit less exciting to watch high school matches in the cavernous Huron Arena. But I loved it just the same, and over the next several years, I was able to cover high school championships and duals at the Arena.
I don't remember, but looking back, I must have been initially apprehensive about covering something like wrestling, which I knew nothing about. But it didn't take long for me to not only love it, but to heap praise and appreciation on young men to go out on the mat. It can't be an easy sport to master. Wrestlers often describe their early years as "looking at the lights," a way of telling people they found their way to their backs. It's a sports where very few excel before failing. In that failing, if you want to call it that, they learn. On example of that in my coverage years was Scott Dubbelde, a great wrestler who developed into a state placewinner in his last two years. In the years leading up to that, Scott learned humility as well as confidence and rose to the top, winning a state championship, not an easy thing to do in any state, let alone Minnesota, one of the best wrestling states in the country.
The more I watched wrestling, the more I admired these young men who often cut weight and practiced in rubber suits, all the while knowing they probably weren't going to be state champs. It certainly had be difficult for family, i.e. moms, watching their son take a crossface or seeing him get caught in a double arm bar. But that's how they learned, and how good coaches led them to make proper decisions on the mat. I am still, after all these years, no expert at wrestling. But I enjoy watching my beloved Minnesota Golden Gophers and each year at this time, try to envision them winning the NCAA team title to go with the national dual title they've won for two straight years. Maybe this will be the year.
Fodegraphing
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Monday, February 20, 2012
The lost has returned ... again!!
Well, I did it again: I took off several months, apparently with little to write about. But I figure, what with all the technology in the world today, my handful of followers didn't miss much.
Hopefully, I can do better.
I am at the computer today still trying to process the death of one of my best high school friends, Rex Crawford. It was about a week ago that I received an e-mail from Loren Lounsbury, who maintains probably the best high school website in the country, that "we had lost another classmate." When I clicked on the link supplied with the brief message, there was a photo of Rex, just as I remembered him from high school.
For the next 15 minutes, I sat at the computer and stared at the photo, not believing what I was seeing. Today, a week later, I'm still having hazy memories of good times we shared when we were nearly inseparable for two or three years. My main memories are of playing basketball on the driveway at his home, where he not only honed his considerable skills, but came up with trick shots which constantly bulldozed me and others at HORSE. When we chose sides for pickup games, He delighted in dribbling the ball through MY legs as I was trying to play defense, dashing past me to field his own pass for a layup.
And then, the big "Chipper" laugh.
As a sportswriter for these 35 years, I loved to cover players like Rex, who made themselves successful through grit and hard work. While others may have had as much talent, he parlayed tremendous inner drive and hard work into varsity letters. Some said he couldn't do it, but he proved them wrong. I know it was a different time, but I doubt many high school juniors and seniors are setting up baseball games after school. I think it was the constant work he put into even these pickup games that make him a favorite.
Off the court or the diamond or football field, Rex was a friend. He picked me up in his green Falcon every day for school, following up by picking up Daryl Walz and Rick Wahl. In some ways, we were the four musketeers; somehow I got in there despite my having no athletic ability. But it is the friendship, the good times, that I cherish the most. Unfortunately, it is the way of the world that you move on from these days. The last time I talked to Rex (to my recollection) was around 1974 --- 38 years ago!! It is equally unfortunate that it takes something we never thought about in these days --- death or our advancing age --- to bring all these memories back, and to make us wish it could have been somehow different.
My sympathies go out to Rex's family, and to all the families of classmates who are gone. Like our high school years or not, they are our history. But when things like this happen, it all seems like it was just ... yesterday.
Hopefully, I can do better.
I am at the computer today still trying to process the death of one of my best high school friends, Rex Crawford. It was about a week ago that I received an e-mail from Loren Lounsbury, who maintains probably the best high school website in the country, that "we had lost another classmate." When I clicked on the link supplied with the brief message, there was a photo of Rex, just as I remembered him from high school.
For the next 15 minutes, I sat at the computer and stared at the photo, not believing what I was seeing. Today, a week later, I'm still having hazy memories of good times we shared when we were nearly inseparable for two or three years. My main memories are of playing basketball on the driveway at his home, where he not only honed his considerable skills, but came up with trick shots which constantly bulldozed me and others at HORSE. When we chose sides for pickup games, He delighted in dribbling the ball through MY legs as I was trying to play defense, dashing past me to field his own pass for a layup.
And then, the big "Chipper" laugh.
As a sportswriter for these 35 years, I loved to cover players like Rex, who made themselves successful through grit and hard work. While others may have had as much talent, he parlayed tremendous inner drive and hard work into varsity letters. Some said he couldn't do it, but he proved them wrong. I know it was a different time, but I doubt many high school juniors and seniors are setting up baseball games after school. I think it was the constant work he put into even these pickup games that make him a favorite.
Off the court or the diamond or football field, Rex was a friend. He picked me up in his green Falcon every day for school, following up by picking up Daryl Walz and Rick Wahl. In some ways, we were the four musketeers; somehow I got in there despite my having no athletic ability. But it is the friendship, the good times, that I cherish the most. Unfortunately, it is the way of the world that you move on from these days. The last time I talked to Rex (to my recollection) was around 1974 --- 38 years ago!! It is equally unfortunate that it takes something we never thought about in these days --- death or our advancing age --- to bring all these memories back, and to make us wish it could have been somehow different.
My sympathies go out to Rex's family, and to all the families of classmates who are gone. Like our high school years or not, they are our history. But when things like this happen, it all seems like it was just ... yesterday.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Baseball fan? You have to visit this museum!!
A few weeks ago, we visited B's Ballpark Museum near Coors Field in Denver. If visiting Fenway Park earlier this summer was a religious experience for me, so was visiting B's.
It goes without saying that Bruce Hellerstein, an author and the curator of the museum, is a man after my own heart. In his small and cozy museum is a literal treasure trove of memories for not only the avid baseball fan and historian (me) but also the more casual fan who goes to the ballpark for fun and realizes this is just more than an afternoon's fun.
Baseball is America's national pastime, and Bruce has captured this and more is a museum that may be Denver's best-kept secret. When my son and I went to a Rockies game on Sunday, we made our way to the B's Ballpark Museum (which at 1940 Blake is a half-block from Coors Field) if only to see Bruce's smiling face. There he was, greeting visitors. It was troubling to me that fans were heading to the nearby ballpark without going into the museum. I told one or two fans to check it out: "It's amazing," I said to a couple that had stopped in front of the building.
Inside fans will find undoubtedly the finest collection of Denver Bears memorabilia that exists. But Bruce, a lover of the game and its past, has also assembled an incredible collection of memorabilia honoring ballparks of the past, like Forbes Field, Tiger Stadium and others. The coup de grace: a room featuring some heart-stopping relics from Brooklyn's Ebbets Field, where the Bums played 60 years ago. There on the wall is a light fixture from the main vestibule of the stadium; on the ceiling an Ebbets Field light. In the corner, a chair that Jackie Robinson and the rest of the Dodgers used at Ebbets.
A few feet away --- one could miss this --- is the sprinkler fixture that Mickey Mantle tripped on in the 1951 World Series against the New York Giants. It features an NY logo and must have been the Cadillac of sprinklers in those days. In another nearby corner is a collection of rare ballpark seats from places like Crosley Field, Sportsman's Park and other long-gone stadiums. Like me, I realized, rather than collecting items of only one team, his theme is baseball's glorious past and its history.
Needless to say, I didn't want to leave and even asked Bruce about volunteering at this wonderful place of magic. You'll hear more about that later. It will be worth a regular trip to Denver if I can just brush up against the past in such a way.
It goes without saying that Bruce Hellerstein, an author and the curator of the museum, is a man after my own heart. In his small and cozy museum is a literal treasure trove of memories for not only the avid baseball fan and historian (me) but also the more casual fan who goes to the ballpark for fun and realizes this is just more than an afternoon's fun.
Baseball is America's national pastime, and Bruce has captured this and more is a museum that may be Denver's best-kept secret. When my son and I went to a Rockies game on Sunday, we made our way to the B's Ballpark Museum (which at 1940 Blake is a half-block from Coors Field) if only to see Bruce's smiling face. There he was, greeting visitors. It was troubling to me that fans were heading to the nearby ballpark without going into the museum. I told one or two fans to check it out: "It's amazing," I said to a couple that had stopped in front of the building.
Inside fans will find undoubtedly the finest collection of Denver Bears memorabilia that exists. But Bruce, a lover of the game and its past, has also assembled an incredible collection of memorabilia honoring ballparks of the past, like Forbes Field, Tiger Stadium and others. The coup de grace: a room featuring some heart-stopping relics from Brooklyn's Ebbets Field, where the Bums played 60 years ago. There on the wall is a light fixture from the main vestibule of the stadium; on the ceiling an Ebbets Field light. In the corner, a chair that Jackie Robinson and the rest of the Dodgers used at Ebbets.
A few feet away --- one could miss this --- is the sprinkler fixture that Mickey Mantle tripped on in the 1951 World Series against the New York Giants. It features an NY logo and must have been the Cadillac of sprinklers in those days. In another nearby corner is a collection of rare ballpark seats from places like Crosley Field, Sportsman's Park and other long-gone stadiums. Like me, I realized, rather than collecting items of only one team, his theme is baseball's glorious past and its history.
Needless to say, I didn't want to leave and even asked Bruce about volunteering at this wonderful place of magic. You'll hear more about that later. It will be worth a regular trip to Denver if I can just brush up against the past in such a way.
Buck ... we hardly knew ye ...
I have been a big Blue Oyster Cult fan since the 1970s, probably falling hard with the "Agents of Fortune" album in 1976, that due to "(Don't Fear) The Reaper." Over the years, I have accumulated all of their albums and even brought my 24-year-old son Christian along. I recall telling him BOC's tunes could rival those of his favorite group, Metallica.
So, when we learned BOC would be coming to Greeley on July 1 --- just in time for my 59th birthday --- we scooped up tickets and began to wonder what their set list would be. I admitted to being excited to seeing Eric Bloom and "Buck" Dharma, the two 60-something aces of the Cult, the masters of many quirky songs and outrageous guitar riffs.
Unfortunately for BOC fans like us, the Cult was not the headliner this evening. Cheap Trick, a rock group from a slightly different era and genre, was. Hence, we just got settled into our seats, reveling in "The Reaper," "Godzilla" and "Shooting Shark" when Eric Bloom was waving goodbye after a 45-minute "concert." Hopeful of hearing some of our favorite underground rock, we were disappointed. But not unhappy. Because Bloom and Dharma and the other bandmates succeeded in convincing us that the group is anything but done, even though the guys are approaching senior citizendom. The singing and guitar work was tremendous, and the representations of the songs were straight and true. If anything, I came away more of a fan, pretty blown away by their abilities, 40 years later. I just wish it had been longer. We are hopeful of seeing them in another nearby venue when they are the headliners. I think a full, two-hour concert would be more than the bright toe-tapper Saturday's was.
The next day, my son and I took our traveling shoes to Coors Field, basking (baking) in 95-degree heat as the Rockies tangled with Kansas City on "Rapid City Day" at the stadium. Four unfortunate dudes or dudettes were dressed up as the Mount Rushmore four (heavy heads and suits), parading around in the smokin' heat. We had barely settled into our seats when Melky Cabrera hit the first of his two homers on the day, and KC was on the way to a 16-8 win. I'd like to say the Rockies were driving for the potential tying touchdown in the final quarter, but I'd be mixing metaphors, so to speak. The Rocks cut the score to 6-5 at one point, on Mark Ellis' two-run homer, but then KC exploded the next half-inning with a batrack full of bleeders and seeing-eye hits that turned into a six-run answer. It was over. Nonetheless, again, we had a great time, talking baseball to our neighbors, eating a hot dog and watching the game and scoreboard. It was a wonderful July 4 setting. For the first time I can recall, veterans (me included) were asked to stand to be recognized, and there was some fireworks. There is nothing like the July 4 holiday, perhaps since it coincides with my birthday. It was special to be in a place were people were not fighting about politics, but watching a baseball game and enjoying.
It was similar to a trip my family took in May of this year, to Boston, where we took in a pair of Red Sox games. I can attest to this: for a baseball fan, a trip to Fenway Park is a religious experience. Seeing the Green Monster for the first time, seeing the red seat in right field where Ted Williams hit a home run, sitting in the old seats ... it couldn't have been better. For two nights, we met some of the nicest people, and great baseball fans, all of whom welcomed us and congratulated us for seeing the greatest park in the majors. I couldn't argue. By the way, apparently Boston is a historic American city, so we took in some other sights as well. There's this guy Paul Revere (related to the Twins' Ben Revere?) and the Boston Harbor, and Salem, etc. Amazing and unforgettable!
So, when we learned BOC would be coming to Greeley on July 1 --- just in time for my 59th birthday --- we scooped up tickets and began to wonder what their set list would be. I admitted to being excited to seeing Eric Bloom and "Buck" Dharma, the two 60-something aces of the Cult, the masters of many quirky songs and outrageous guitar riffs.
Unfortunately for BOC fans like us, the Cult was not the headliner this evening. Cheap Trick, a rock group from a slightly different era and genre, was. Hence, we just got settled into our seats, reveling in "The Reaper," "Godzilla" and "Shooting Shark" when Eric Bloom was waving goodbye after a 45-minute "concert." Hopeful of hearing some of our favorite underground rock, we were disappointed. But not unhappy. Because Bloom and Dharma and the other bandmates succeeded in convincing us that the group is anything but done, even though the guys are approaching senior citizendom. The singing and guitar work was tremendous, and the representations of the songs were straight and true. If anything, I came away more of a fan, pretty blown away by their abilities, 40 years later. I just wish it had been longer. We are hopeful of seeing them in another nearby venue when they are the headliners. I think a full, two-hour concert would be more than the bright toe-tapper Saturday's was.
The next day, my son and I took our traveling shoes to Coors Field, basking (baking) in 95-degree heat as the Rockies tangled with Kansas City on "Rapid City Day" at the stadium. Four unfortunate dudes or dudettes were dressed up as the Mount Rushmore four (heavy heads and suits), parading around in the smokin' heat. We had barely settled into our seats when Melky Cabrera hit the first of his two homers on the day, and KC was on the way to a 16-8 win. I'd like to say the Rockies were driving for the potential tying touchdown in the final quarter, but I'd be mixing metaphors, so to speak. The Rocks cut the score to 6-5 at one point, on Mark Ellis' two-run homer, but then KC exploded the next half-inning with a batrack full of bleeders and seeing-eye hits that turned into a six-run answer. It was over. Nonetheless, again, we had a great time, talking baseball to our neighbors, eating a hot dog and watching the game and scoreboard. It was a wonderful July 4 setting. For the first time I can recall, veterans (me included) were asked to stand to be recognized, and there was some fireworks. There is nothing like the July 4 holiday, perhaps since it coincides with my birthday. It was special to be in a place were people were not fighting about politics, but watching a baseball game and enjoying.
It was similar to a trip my family took in May of this year, to Boston, where we took in a pair of Red Sox games. I can attest to this: for a baseball fan, a trip to Fenway Park is a religious experience. Seeing the Green Monster for the first time, seeing the red seat in right field where Ted Williams hit a home run, sitting in the old seats ... it couldn't have been better. For two nights, we met some of the nicest people, and great baseball fans, all of whom welcomed us and congratulated us for seeing the greatest park in the majors. I couldn't argue. By the way, apparently Boston is a historic American city, so we took in some other sights as well. There's this guy Paul Revere (related to the Twins' Ben Revere?) and the Boston Harbor, and Salem, etc. Amazing and unforgettable!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Basking at Coors Field
Or is it basking IN Coors Field? Whatever is correct, it was pretty spectacular to have great seats for the first Rockies' win of the season Saturday night, a 3-1 win over the visiting Arizona Diamondbacks. Coming on the heels of Friday's 7-6 loss, the game featured an excellent pitching effort by Jorge DeLa Rosa and offensive heroics by Chris Iannetta, who is one of the keys to the season for Colorado.
Iannetta clouted a home run off Dodgers' ace Clayton Kershaw a few nights later to account for Rockies win number two. He was joined in the home run parade by Troy Tulowitzski, who got his first hit of the season, also off Kershaw, and also a home run. It would be nice to see Tulo go on another home run tear, like he did last year, with 15 homers in the final month.
Anyway, it was great to be at the ballpark. Along with my wife and son, I watched from spectacular seats behind home plate in the second deck, on the rail. Aside from the view of the sun setting over the Rockies, I enjoyed the sights and sounds of the ballpark (all except the wave). In the old days, visitors to a ballpark were hit by co-mingled smells of stogies, beer and food. Today, with tobacco products banned from the park, the smell is mostly heavenly barbecue. Not sure who can afford $6 cups of beer, but plenty is sold.
It seems I am never bored at the ballpark. It is simply a wonderful way to enjoy a warm night, but you have to have decent seats away from unruly fans. You don't have a lot of control over this, but it's nice to be in a section with home-team fans, and especially not Phillies fans. We experienced Phillies fans last year during the makeup of a rained-out game late in the season. An early Rockies lead was wiped out by a nine-run Phillies inning, bringing out scattered and obnoxious Phillies fans. Before long, there were incidents throughout our section, with ushers breaking up the scuffles and ejecting fans. Compare that to a game late in 2009 when the Rockies came from behind on a walk-off, grandslam by Ryan Spilborghs. I counted exactly one Giants fan in the stands, and she was more of a novelty than a nuisance.
I think there will be much to watch and cheer for this summer. It was fun to be part of the first win!
Iannetta clouted a home run off Dodgers' ace Clayton Kershaw a few nights later to account for Rockies win number two. He was joined in the home run parade by Troy Tulowitzski, who got his first hit of the season, also off Kershaw, and also a home run. It would be nice to see Tulo go on another home run tear, like he did last year, with 15 homers in the final month.
Anyway, it was great to be at the ballpark. Along with my wife and son, I watched from spectacular seats behind home plate in the second deck, on the rail. Aside from the view of the sun setting over the Rockies, I enjoyed the sights and sounds of the ballpark (all except the wave). In the old days, visitors to a ballpark were hit by co-mingled smells of stogies, beer and food. Today, with tobacco products banned from the park, the smell is mostly heavenly barbecue. Not sure who can afford $6 cups of beer, but plenty is sold.
It seems I am never bored at the ballpark. It is simply a wonderful way to enjoy a warm night, but you have to have decent seats away from unruly fans. You don't have a lot of control over this, but it's nice to be in a section with home-team fans, and especially not Phillies fans. We experienced Phillies fans last year during the makeup of a rained-out game late in the season. An early Rockies lead was wiped out by a nine-run Phillies inning, bringing out scattered and obnoxious Phillies fans. Before long, there were incidents throughout our section, with ushers breaking up the scuffles and ejecting fans. Compare that to a game late in 2009 when the Rockies came from behind on a walk-off, grandslam by Ryan Spilborghs. I counted exactly one Giants fan in the stands, and she was more of a novelty than a nuisance.
I think there will be much to watch and cheer for this summer. It was fun to be part of the first win!
Friday, April 1, 2011
I've had some time to think about this, and I don't think Jose Lop ... WHOOPS! Is that Jose Lopez rounding the bases after hitting a home run (after standing at the plate and admiring it?) Yup. I stand corrected. As I was about to say, I think Jose Lopez may help the Colorado Rockies this season. But not if he stands at the plate while one of his blasts hits off the fence and he runs it into a single.
Jose's home run into the leftfield stands is one of the few bright spots in today's game, a disappointment for Ubaldo Jiminez, who won 15 of his first 16 starts last year. The lowly Arizona Diamondbacks are launching them, and they aren't standing at the plate admiring their homers. My kind of baseball. As I write this, they're trailing 6-4 and it doesn't look great for all the Opening Day fans, many of whom will likely fade into memory like the ice cream they're enjoying.
It IS nice to be talking baseball again. Hockey has been a downer, college basketball has no soul and the NBA ... forget it. So baseball is the thing right now, until football comes along (if it does). I did my annual hot dog feed (for me) on March 31 and found not much has changed. The Yankees won with the long ball, the Braves got great pitching, and today, the Astro bullpen blew it again. As the announcer said: "If the Astros start 1-7 this year, it will be an improvement over last year." That's called damning with faint praise. I am looking forward to the Minnesota Twins opener this evening against Toronto, and am still hopeful the Rockies can come back against the D-Backs bullpen.
A BLAST FROM THE PAST
I brought a book home from the library the other day, actually a Led Zeppelin history for my son, who is a big fan. Of course, I started reading it and realized I, too, am a pretty big fan. Already jealous for my having lived through possibly the greatest era of rock and roll music ever (but not jealous of my age), he listens intently when I tell him about going to The Music Center in Huron to purchase the first Led Zeppelin album in January, 1969. So sold on the new sound of this "heavy metal" group was I that I ran out a few months later and bought their second album. The first album, incidentally, grossed $7 million and the boys have never had to worry about money since.
This was an interesting era in rock and roll, going from more soft rock and roll to heavier groups like Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple and, yes, Three Dog Night. The door then opened for hundreds of other groups, which produced some incredible music for my collection for the next 20 years or so. My co-worker here in Greeley, who is a few years older than I, has at times regaled me with his stories of having seen Led Zep, Jimi Hendrix and The Who in concert in Denver. He probably doesn't remember much of it. But the music has endured. (As I write this, fans are singing to Bruce Channel's "Hey Baby" at Coors Field.This may be one of the top five most enduring songs ever and it was performed nearly 50 years ago!! If you guessed 1962, you're right.) I think it's safe to say that many of the group members from the 60s and 70s, if they have survived, wished they had taken better care of themselves, because they could still be making money today. Big money, just playing the classics. I want to be listening.
Jose's home run into the leftfield stands is one of the few bright spots in today's game, a disappointment for Ubaldo Jiminez, who won 15 of his first 16 starts last year. The lowly Arizona Diamondbacks are launching them, and they aren't standing at the plate admiring their homers. My kind of baseball. As I write this, they're trailing 6-4 and it doesn't look great for all the Opening Day fans, many of whom will likely fade into memory like the ice cream they're enjoying.
It IS nice to be talking baseball again. Hockey has been a downer, college basketball has no soul and the NBA ... forget it. So baseball is the thing right now, until football comes along (if it does). I did my annual hot dog feed (for me) on March 31 and found not much has changed. The Yankees won with the long ball, the Braves got great pitching, and today, the Astro bullpen blew it again. As the announcer said: "If the Astros start 1-7 this year, it will be an improvement over last year." That's called damning with faint praise. I am looking forward to the Minnesota Twins opener this evening against Toronto, and am still hopeful the Rockies can come back against the D-Backs bullpen.
A BLAST FROM THE PAST
I brought a book home from the library the other day, actually a Led Zeppelin history for my son, who is a big fan. Of course, I started reading it and realized I, too, am a pretty big fan. Already jealous for my having lived through possibly the greatest era of rock and roll music ever (but not jealous of my age), he listens intently when I tell him about going to The Music Center in Huron to purchase the first Led Zeppelin album in January, 1969. So sold on the new sound of this "heavy metal" group was I that I ran out a few months later and bought their second album. The first album, incidentally, grossed $7 million and the boys have never had to worry about money since.
This was an interesting era in rock and roll, going from more soft rock and roll to heavier groups like Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple and, yes, Three Dog Night. The door then opened for hundreds of other groups, which produced some incredible music for my collection for the next 20 years or so. My co-worker here in Greeley, who is a few years older than I, has at times regaled me with his stories of having seen Led Zep, Jimi Hendrix and The Who in concert in Denver. He probably doesn't remember much of it. But the music has endured. (As I write this, fans are singing to Bruce Channel's "Hey Baby" at Coors Field.This may be one of the top five most enduring songs ever and it was performed nearly 50 years ago!! If you guessed 1962, you're right.) I think it's safe to say that many of the group members from the 60s and 70s, if they have survived, wished they had taken better care of themselves, because they could still be making money today. Big money, just playing the classics. I want to be listening.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
If it's spring ...
It must mean baseball, the best of all seasons. It's such a big deal that I have planned to grill hot dogs to celebrate the opening of the major league season next weekend. My wife thinks it's kind of crazy because I will be making the hot dogs for ... myself. Me.
Actually, the season has already started. My son and I jumped in our car last weekend for a road trip --- across town where the Northern Colorado Bears were hosting the South Dakota State Jackrabbits in a four-game series. I dressed warmly for the Saturday doubleheader, although I ended up getting a neck-burn in the 75-degree heat. We had barely settled in our seats when SDSU's Zach Rhodes launched a three-run homer over the right-field fence. It was gone from the ping of the bat.
Thus began a rather rugged weekend for the Bears, who at this time last year were showcasing a power-laden lineup. However, a school decision to fire the coach undoubtedly led to the transfer exodus of several players, including one slugger who hit 18 home runs and batted better than .350 last year. Without him and other hitters in the lineup, the Bears succumbed to a four-game sweep at the hands of the Jacks. Perennially a good-hitting team, the Jacks pounded out several home runs and scored 41 runs in the four games, while holding UNC to seven runs. The three-run homer by the lefty-hitting Rhodes was part of a 13-2 win, and then, righthander Steven Bougher fired a four-hit shutout in the nightcap, 2-0. On Sunday, we watched the Bears take another 9-1 shelling. It appears to be that SDSU will field a strong team this year, with strong pitching, good defense and, of course, hitting. The Bears have a task ahead of them, but at least they appeared to be sold on hustle and effort. And there is plenty of time to get hot.
But as baseball lovers know, when you're hot, you're hot. But when you're not ... well, you're not. Two nights later, the Bears had a 3-0 lead over Nebraska in the sixth and lost, 5-4 in the bottom of the ninth when the pitcher plunked the leadoff hitter, who eventually scored on a two-out hit. Like I said, when things aren't going well, they really won't go well in this game. Every little mistake ends of killing you. Eventually, frustration enters in. There is probably already some of that; a UNC coach was tossed from the game Saturday, albeit for a stupid reason: the third-base umpire ruled that a UNC batter hadn't entered the batters box quickly enough, and assessed him a strike. The stupidest rule ever brought the coach out of his shoes and into the face of the umpire. The pointy-headed bureaucrat in blue didn't care that the offending batter was the catcher, who had to scramble out of his equipment to get to the plate.
I'd have gotten run too. And when you're getting beat on the field ... well, it's too much to believe.
About the only good thing I can report is that the inevitable mustard stain on my treasured Twins coat was airbrushed out by my wife. At that point, I was a perfect 46-for-46 lifetime: 46 hot dogs, 46 mustard spills. I haven't figured out that maybe I should eliminate the mustard.
Actually, the season has already started. My son and I jumped in our car last weekend for a road trip --- across town where the Northern Colorado Bears were hosting the South Dakota State Jackrabbits in a four-game series. I dressed warmly for the Saturday doubleheader, although I ended up getting a neck-burn in the 75-degree heat. We had barely settled in our seats when SDSU's Zach Rhodes launched a three-run homer over the right-field fence. It was gone from the ping of the bat.
Thus began a rather rugged weekend for the Bears, who at this time last year were showcasing a power-laden lineup. However, a school decision to fire the coach undoubtedly led to the transfer exodus of several players, including one slugger who hit 18 home runs and batted better than .350 last year. Without him and other hitters in the lineup, the Bears succumbed to a four-game sweep at the hands of the Jacks. Perennially a good-hitting team, the Jacks pounded out several home runs and scored 41 runs in the four games, while holding UNC to seven runs. The three-run homer by the lefty-hitting Rhodes was part of a 13-2 win, and then, righthander Steven Bougher fired a four-hit shutout in the nightcap, 2-0. On Sunday, we watched the Bears take another 9-1 shelling. It appears to be that SDSU will field a strong team this year, with strong pitching, good defense and, of course, hitting. The Bears have a task ahead of them, but at least they appeared to be sold on hustle and effort. And there is plenty of time to get hot.
But as baseball lovers know, when you're hot, you're hot. But when you're not ... well, you're not. Two nights later, the Bears had a 3-0 lead over Nebraska in the sixth and lost, 5-4 in the bottom of the ninth when the pitcher plunked the leadoff hitter, who eventually scored on a two-out hit. Like I said, when things aren't going well, they really won't go well in this game. Every little mistake ends of killing you. Eventually, frustration enters in. There is probably already some of that; a UNC coach was tossed from the game Saturday, albeit for a stupid reason: the third-base umpire ruled that a UNC batter hadn't entered the batters box quickly enough, and assessed him a strike. The stupidest rule ever brought the coach out of his shoes and into the face of the umpire. The pointy-headed bureaucrat in blue didn't care that the offending batter was the catcher, who had to scramble out of his equipment to get to the plate.
I'd have gotten run too. And when you're getting beat on the field ... well, it's too much to believe.
About the only good thing I can report is that the inevitable mustard stain on my treasured Twins coat was airbrushed out by my wife. At that point, I was a perfect 46-for-46 lifetime: 46 hot dogs, 46 mustard spills. I haven't figured out that maybe I should eliminate the mustard.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
I'm not very good at this, am I?
If anyone is hanging on my every word (I jest), like that great beer commercial ("even the prepositions..."), they've been disappointed in my inability to post anything, except in bursts. There are a number of reasons for this, all of them bad and flimsy. The truth is, those years of facing a deadline have made me a wimp.Or, would you believe, I've been sneezing for the past month?
Every once in while, I have an epiphany, usually when I'm soaking my aching bones. One occurred a week ago, when I was not in the hot tub, but attending a staff training day for the High Plains Library District here in Greeley. We had informative speakers, at least of couple of them on the new ebook craze that is sure to affect libraries. There seem to be more than a few experts who see the ultimate demise of the library in this new ability to download entire armies of books onto small handheld devices that are similar to my Zune music MP3. Seemingly, this is an upgrade over books ...
I'm not sure that is the case, but then again, you're hearing this from a person who was pretty late getting started on a computer, and who only has a cell phone because his wife forced him to. Some of these devices are pretty worthless in my hands; even a small child could give me lessons. Yes, I have been dragged kicking and screaming into the future, or present.
My daughter is a student in journalism at the University of Minnesota and she has asked me if I would come to her class sometime to speak to students. This is a harrowing idea for someone with a fear of public speaking, but if I did, I would stress to these students that all the technology in the world won't write your stories for you. They are only aids. It still takes a notebook and pen to do your job. Even a tape recorder, while it can ensure quality quotes, takes time to transcribe (or has something else been invented?). Students in journalism should, along with their other classes, take one in shorthand!!
The staff training day always gives me a start when young whippersnappers stand in front of the group and work the crowd with techno-speak that goes WAAAY over my head. I guess this why us 50- or 60-somethings are fading out. We've had our day. When did I get so old?
CONNECTING WITH OLD FRIENDS
I got on the horn in the past two weeks and decided I would make contact with some old friends. I called an old college buddy in Huron, S.D. and we chatted for more than an hour. Then this week, an old friend called me out of the blue and we wound up making plans for him to visit in August to see a Rockies baseball series.
It's exciting to make contact with old friends. Yes, we all have moved on and are living lives with our families and watching children or grandchildren grow. But to connect with old friends is special, and certainly brings up old memories.
Every once in while, I have an epiphany, usually when I'm soaking my aching bones. One occurred a week ago, when I was not in the hot tub, but attending a staff training day for the High Plains Library District here in Greeley. We had informative speakers, at least of couple of them on the new ebook craze that is sure to affect libraries. There seem to be more than a few experts who see the ultimate demise of the library in this new ability to download entire armies of books onto small handheld devices that are similar to my Zune music MP3. Seemingly, this is an upgrade over books ...
I'm not sure that is the case, but then again, you're hearing this from a person who was pretty late getting started on a computer, and who only has a cell phone because his wife forced him to. Some of these devices are pretty worthless in my hands; even a small child could give me lessons. Yes, I have been dragged kicking and screaming into the future, or present.
My daughter is a student in journalism at the University of Minnesota and she has asked me if I would come to her class sometime to speak to students. This is a harrowing idea for someone with a fear of public speaking, but if I did, I would stress to these students that all the technology in the world won't write your stories for you. They are only aids. It still takes a notebook and pen to do your job. Even a tape recorder, while it can ensure quality quotes, takes time to transcribe (or has something else been invented?). Students in journalism should, along with their other classes, take one in shorthand!!
The staff training day always gives me a start when young whippersnappers stand in front of the group and work the crowd with techno-speak that goes WAAAY over my head. I guess this why us 50- or 60-somethings are fading out. We've had our day. When did I get so old?
CONNECTING WITH OLD FRIENDS
I got on the horn in the past two weeks and decided I would make contact with some old friends. I called an old college buddy in Huron, S.D. and we chatted for more than an hour. Then this week, an old friend called me out of the blue and we wound up making plans for him to visit in August to see a Rockies baseball series.
It's exciting to make contact with old friends. Yes, we all have moved on and are living lives with our families and watching children or grandchildren grow. But to connect with old friends is special, and certainly brings up old memories.
Friday, January 14, 2011
This is what a news media is for???
Folks, I don't know about you, but I can barely look at a purported newscast or pick up a newspaper these days without gagging. Maybe it's my age. Maybe I'm a frustrated old curmudgeon who doesn't like "progress."
I'm certainly glad that my daughter and others like her are in journalism school (and hopefully learning it the right way). I could drone on about "advocacy journalism" all day, but there is nothing like seeing it in action! Just turn on your tv or pick up a newspaper. Actually, I should qualify my remark by saying that TELEVISION is far and away the most blood-boiling of all news sources. Several stations are filled with people almost literally going hand-to-hand in their advocacy, calling people names and generalizing all over the place. Not only are they often wrong, but they rarely admit their mistakes, such is their desire to "change the world."
It's embarrassing.
Here I go again. In my more-than-30-year career, I had mentors like Prof. Walt Brovald at the University of Minnesota and Master Sergeant Perez, my instructor at Defense Information School in the U.S. Army. They taught my the only way --- and the best way --- to conduct journalism as a career. It's no secret; it's called being objective and fair. I'm sure I failed here and there, but nothing like the direct opinion journalism that is practiced in many newsrooms. Hence, the death of the media is at hand.
But my daughter's generation will try to stop the bleeding to return this wonderful profession to its deserved standing. I believe they can do it, with the outstanding professors that she and others have at the University of Minnesota. People voting with their feet are the proof: people want the facts, ma'am, and only the facts, from the 25-cent newspaper they get every day (or is it 50 cents?). If they don't trust the news, they won't buy the newspaper.
I realize the newspaper in each and every community in America tends to be run down by the populous. That's the way it goes, it seems. But you just keep plugging to earn the respect of the people, and if you handle tough jobs well, you eventually win them over. But not by being less than objective about the news that affects the folks. It's not that difficult. You see the news, you report it. If you want to opine, get a job on the editorial page.
Every day, it seems, the national media is challenged to fairly report the news. It's become a sad little affair that reveals itself everytime news is made, such as the tragic shooting in Tucson. The collective unprofessionalism has become sort of staggering to old-timers like me who learned only one way to publish a newspaper. It's up to the youth of today to correct what has become a national tragedy in itself.
I'm certainly glad that my daughter and others like her are in journalism school (and hopefully learning it the right way). I could drone on about "advocacy journalism" all day, but there is nothing like seeing it in action! Just turn on your tv or pick up a newspaper. Actually, I should qualify my remark by saying that TELEVISION is far and away the most blood-boiling of all news sources. Several stations are filled with people almost literally going hand-to-hand in their advocacy, calling people names and generalizing all over the place. Not only are they often wrong, but they rarely admit their mistakes, such is their desire to "change the world."
It's embarrassing.
Here I go again. In my more-than-30-year career, I had mentors like Prof. Walt Brovald at the University of Minnesota and Master Sergeant Perez, my instructor at Defense Information School in the U.S. Army. They taught my the only way --- and the best way --- to conduct journalism as a career. It's no secret; it's called being objective and fair. I'm sure I failed here and there, but nothing like the direct opinion journalism that is practiced in many newsrooms. Hence, the death of the media is at hand.
But my daughter's generation will try to stop the bleeding to return this wonderful profession to its deserved standing. I believe they can do it, with the outstanding professors that she and others have at the University of Minnesota. People voting with their feet are the proof: people want the facts, ma'am, and only the facts, from the 25-cent newspaper they get every day (or is it 50 cents?). If they don't trust the news, they won't buy the newspaper.
I realize the newspaper in each and every community in America tends to be run down by the populous. That's the way it goes, it seems. But you just keep plugging to earn the respect of the people, and if you handle tough jobs well, you eventually win them over. But not by being less than objective about the news that affects the folks. It's not that difficult. You see the news, you report it. If you want to opine, get a job on the editorial page.
Every day, it seems, the national media is challenged to fairly report the news. It's become a sad little affair that reveals itself everytime news is made, such as the tragic shooting in Tucson. The collective unprofessionalism has become sort of staggering to old-timers like me who learned only one way to publish a newspaper. It's up to the youth of today to correct what has become a national tragedy in itself.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Mom and dad --- you deserved better
It's been a year since my family gathered in Huron for my mom's funeral. Needless to say, it was a tough day, and it's been a tough year. Since everyone seems to think I take after mom, they would naturally feel I have taken it hardest.
Time does dull the wounds, but it never really takes them away. It's sort of a bad collection of memories to go with the good ones. In my 58 years, I have accomplished many things, but one thing I never thought I would successfully deal with would be the death of loves ones like parents, grandparents, mothers, nephews, uncles and aunts. I dwell on these things more than most, and it doesn't help that I tend to cry at a good card trick! In other words, I'm a pretty soft touch.
I think it can safely say that for the most part I drove my parents crazy. My three siblings didn't --- at least to my knowledge --- take the chances that I did, nor did they give them as many challenges. I wasn't much of a partier in high school, but my mom pretty much had these words on her lips for the past 30 years: "You made up for lost time." She may have been referring specifically to a party I threw for my baseball-playing friends in the summer of 1970, after we had graduated. One of my friends, while carrying a beer from upstairs to downstairs, tumbled down the stairs --- and didn't spill a drop of beer on my mother's new carpet. But despite the whirlwind job of cleaning the house that we did, I was busted when mom found a full beer can under the couch, of all places.
Dad's favorite quote to me seemed to be, to my memory: "What the heck were you thinking?" He would then take a deep breath and head for the garage, where he went when we wanted to be alone. (In later years, when he decided to start the barbecue grill in the basement and nearly asphixiated everyone, I got my revenge: "Dad ... what were you thinking?") I am quite sure he never said, "What were you thinking" to anyone else but me. He had been raised as a tough German and just wasn't used to running into someone as idiotic as I could be. I would sometimes remind him that at least I wore my four-buckle overshoes through high school, when my older brother refused. Largely, however, I was the one who pushed. I was the one who broke into the wine while I was in junior high and couldn't figure out why I was so sick. I bought too many clothes, joined the Columbia Record Club when I was still in junior high --- forcing him to send the records back --- and pulled for the Yankees. I listened to some really weird music to him and tucked in my sweaters. When I bought those colored bell-bottoms, he just about lost it.
Mom seemed to be nowhere to be found when dad was trying to figure me out. I do remember her walking away from me counting to 10, for some reason.
I wouldn't be surprised if my younger brother and sister didn't have to answer for me as they made their less tumultuous way through school. I can just hear their teachers, "Ah yes, I remember HIM well." Until then, our name was held in high regard in the community. Then I came along and my siblings had to restore the good name. My parents were probably sitting up at night, wondering what life was going to be like once I had left home. That finally happened in the early 1970s, when I went away to the Army. But when I was smashed up in an accident in 1974, it was my parents who pulled me through. Dad even built a special bed for me to stay on during my recuperation for a broken neck, and I think the event changed all of us. I still had a lot of growing up to do, but mom and dad showed that, despite all my issues and mistakes, they would still be there to help, and that I had a place to stay. Through the pain I suffered then and now, I believe the pain they suffered --- not knowing whether I would survive or not for several hours --- was much worse.
I miss them. Our growing up days were filled with fun (in addition to my missteps). My siblings and I still chuckle about our next-door neighbor, who was known to throw rocks at us and swear at us under his breath as he scampered from his house to his garage. A bit of a wingnut before wingnuts were invented! We took some eventful trips, and especially had great holiday get-togethers. We had fun. Mom's last few years were filled with pain and sorrow, as she battled cancer. It has been very different not having her there to call, or to talk to. But life seems to be about transitions. It has taken me a long time to figure that out.
Time does dull the wounds, but it never really takes them away. It's sort of a bad collection of memories to go with the good ones. In my 58 years, I have accomplished many things, but one thing I never thought I would successfully deal with would be the death of loves ones like parents, grandparents, mothers, nephews, uncles and aunts. I dwell on these things more than most, and it doesn't help that I tend to cry at a good card trick! In other words, I'm a pretty soft touch.
I think it can safely say that for the most part I drove my parents crazy. My three siblings didn't --- at least to my knowledge --- take the chances that I did, nor did they give them as many challenges. I wasn't much of a partier in high school, but my mom pretty much had these words on her lips for the past 30 years: "You made up for lost time." She may have been referring specifically to a party I threw for my baseball-playing friends in the summer of 1970, after we had graduated. One of my friends, while carrying a beer from upstairs to downstairs, tumbled down the stairs --- and didn't spill a drop of beer on my mother's new carpet. But despite the whirlwind job of cleaning the house that we did, I was busted when mom found a full beer can under the couch, of all places.
Dad's favorite quote to me seemed to be, to my memory: "What the heck were you thinking?" He would then take a deep breath and head for the garage, where he went when we wanted to be alone. (In later years, when he decided to start the barbecue grill in the basement and nearly asphixiated everyone, I got my revenge: "Dad ... what were you thinking?") I am quite sure he never said, "What were you thinking" to anyone else but me. He had been raised as a tough German and just wasn't used to running into someone as idiotic as I could be. I would sometimes remind him that at least I wore my four-buckle overshoes through high school, when my older brother refused. Largely, however, I was the one who pushed. I was the one who broke into the wine while I was in junior high and couldn't figure out why I was so sick. I bought too many clothes, joined the Columbia Record Club when I was still in junior high --- forcing him to send the records back --- and pulled for the Yankees. I listened to some really weird music to him and tucked in my sweaters. When I bought those colored bell-bottoms, he just about lost it.
Mom seemed to be nowhere to be found when dad was trying to figure me out. I do remember her walking away from me counting to 10, for some reason.
I wouldn't be surprised if my younger brother and sister didn't have to answer for me as they made their less tumultuous way through school. I can just hear their teachers, "Ah yes, I remember HIM well." Until then, our name was held in high regard in the community. Then I came along and my siblings had to restore the good name. My parents were probably sitting up at night, wondering what life was going to be like once I had left home. That finally happened in the early 1970s, when I went away to the Army. But when I was smashed up in an accident in 1974, it was my parents who pulled me through. Dad even built a special bed for me to stay on during my recuperation for a broken neck, and I think the event changed all of us. I still had a lot of growing up to do, but mom and dad showed that, despite all my issues and mistakes, they would still be there to help, and that I had a place to stay. Through the pain I suffered then and now, I believe the pain they suffered --- not knowing whether I would survive or not for several hours --- was much worse.
I miss them. Our growing up days were filled with fun (in addition to my missteps). My siblings and I still chuckle about our next-door neighbor, who was known to throw rocks at us and swear at us under his breath as he scampered from his house to his garage. A bit of a wingnut before wingnuts were invented! We took some eventful trips, and especially had great holiday get-togethers. We had fun. Mom's last few years were filled with pain and sorrow, as she battled cancer. It has been very different not having her there to call, or to talk to. But life seems to be about transitions. It has taken me a long time to figure that out.
It's a Friday mish-mash!!
It's been a few days, but they have been tumultuous ones. For one thing, the people have spoken, in the Nov. 2 election. It's refreshing to know that people can recognize when the train has left the tracks, so to speak.
Unfortunately, only a part of that is the people in office. The news media continues to be a huge head-shaker, and I can only hope that the next generation of journalism will wrestle back integrity lost by the current group of pretenders. It's not an impossibility, but it will be an uphill climb. It will take a concerted effort to remove incompetent "reporters" and others who have done seemingly irreparable damage to the Fourth Estate, and who have lost the faith of perhaps, oh, 150 million readers or so. This will probably stand as the most "shoot myself in the foot" moment in history!!
Rescuing media is not the issue. Repairing the media is the issue. My wonderful daughter Tonya, who is a student at the University of Minnesota, called a few days ago to report that her journalism courses at the "U" are wonderful. I believe her, because I carefully mentored her on what to expect. If certain "catch phrases" or other biases were found, I told her, report them to me. But she lauds her professors, saying they are professional, aware of the bias (not alleged) issues that are ruining the journalism profession. It has to be an uphill battle for professors who undertake this mission, in the face of a populous which is turning away from "mainstream" reporting of any type. I give them credit and would like to talk with them sometime. In the meantime, I am hoping my daughter and others like her can be the wonderful flowers who will save us from the wretched work a few incompetents have perpetuated.
Okay, enough about that. I could go on all day.
Once that issue is corrected, the country must go to work to correct (and protect) its election process. No more ballots found in car trunks in Minnesota. No more allegations of improprieties anywhere, whether they be in small-town America or in Las Vegas. If this country loses faith in its election process, then we're really in trouble. Specifically, Minnesota must get it together!!! Isn't that Minnesota nice?
I have enjoyed getting involved in Facebook, something 58-year-olds like me never envisioned would happen. I have reconnected with a couple friends, like Anne in the Twin Cities. At this age, especially men don't cultivate friendships like they used to. We kind of shuffle around with our wives, mumbling once in awhile (I should probably speak for myself). But talking to someone you haven't seen in 35 years is pretty special and I have appreciated visiting with Anne every now and then. We have to understand that life changes a lot in 40 years and people have new interests. I should say I have struck out on several other attempts to contact old friends from college, high school or Army, leading me to believe that the old saying, "You can't go back" is true. Can I help it if I'm a nostalgic person? I like to remember those old times, like the time my mom and dad were tenting in the back yard on a hot summer night. Who should appear in the wee hours of this night than a few of my State Highway Department co-workers, who were busy spreading mustard on my old woodie station wagon when dad burst out of the tent, yelling at them. He raced down the alley after them in his underwear as they tore off in their car.
We --- my dad as well as my co-workers --- laughed about that for years.
We had some enjoyable experiences "flipping the loop" in Huron, S.D., where we grew up. On one rainy night, my friend Mike and I had just passed Zesto when my windshield wipers stuck. He used his fist to punch the inside of the windshield, hoping to jar the wipers loose. A few hours later, I had to explain how the windshield had been shattered. Mike wasn't along when Verdayne and I did our "loop-flipping" into the early morning hours on a snowy night (imagine the gas we wasted!!??). We finally ran out of gas in his "Blue Goose" and we had to walk at least a mile in freezing temperatures and snow. We made it to my house, where we ate warm soup and tried to figure out how to get the blood back into Verdayne's nose. I won't even go into the night we tore the car door off by accidentally hooking it on a telephone pole. "Hope your dad isn't too made," we all blurted out to Verdayne as we left him to explain to his father how THAT had happened.
Life was good. It has me chuckling all over again.
Unfortunately, only a part of that is the people in office. The news media continues to be a huge head-shaker, and I can only hope that the next generation of journalism will wrestle back integrity lost by the current group of pretenders. It's not an impossibility, but it will be an uphill climb. It will take a concerted effort to remove incompetent "reporters" and others who have done seemingly irreparable damage to the Fourth Estate, and who have lost the faith of perhaps, oh, 150 million readers or so. This will probably stand as the most "shoot myself in the foot" moment in history!!
Rescuing media is not the issue. Repairing the media is the issue. My wonderful daughter Tonya, who is a student at the University of Minnesota, called a few days ago to report that her journalism courses at the "U" are wonderful. I believe her, because I carefully mentored her on what to expect. If certain "catch phrases" or other biases were found, I told her, report them to me. But she lauds her professors, saying they are professional, aware of the bias (not alleged) issues that are ruining the journalism profession. It has to be an uphill battle for professors who undertake this mission, in the face of a populous which is turning away from "mainstream" reporting of any type. I give them credit and would like to talk with them sometime. In the meantime, I am hoping my daughter and others like her can be the wonderful flowers who will save us from the wretched work a few incompetents have perpetuated.
Okay, enough about that. I could go on all day.
Once that issue is corrected, the country must go to work to correct (and protect) its election process. No more ballots found in car trunks in Minnesota. No more allegations of improprieties anywhere, whether they be in small-town America or in Las Vegas. If this country loses faith in its election process, then we're really in trouble. Specifically, Minnesota must get it together!!! Isn't that Minnesota nice?
I have enjoyed getting involved in Facebook, something 58-year-olds like me never envisioned would happen. I have reconnected with a couple friends, like Anne in the Twin Cities. At this age, especially men don't cultivate friendships like they used to. We kind of shuffle around with our wives, mumbling once in awhile (I should probably speak for myself). But talking to someone you haven't seen in 35 years is pretty special and I have appreciated visiting with Anne every now and then. We have to understand that life changes a lot in 40 years and people have new interests. I should say I have struck out on several other attempts to contact old friends from college, high school or Army, leading me to believe that the old saying, "You can't go back" is true. Can I help it if I'm a nostalgic person? I like to remember those old times, like the time my mom and dad were tenting in the back yard on a hot summer night. Who should appear in the wee hours of this night than a few of my State Highway Department co-workers, who were busy spreading mustard on my old woodie station wagon when dad burst out of the tent, yelling at them. He raced down the alley after them in his underwear as they tore off in their car.
We --- my dad as well as my co-workers --- laughed about that for years.
We had some enjoyable experiences "flipping the loop" in Huron, S.D., where we grew up. On one rainy night, my friend Mike and I had just passed Zesto when my windshield wipers stuck. He used his fist to punch the inside of the windshield, hoping to jar the wipers loose. A few hours later, I had to explain how the windshield had been shattered. Mike wasn't along when Verdayne and I did our "loop-flipping" into the early morning hours on a snowy night (imagine the gas we wasted!!??). We finally ran out of gas in his "Blue Goose" and we had to walk at least a mile in freezing temperatures and snow. We made it to my house, where we ate warm soup and tried to figure out how to get the blood back into Verdayne's nose. I won't even go into the night we tore the car door off by accidentally hooking it on a telephone pole. "Hope your dad isn't too made," we all blurted out to Verdayne as we left him to explain to his father how THAT had happened.
Life was good. It has me chuckling all over again.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
The World Series and so much more
Well, so much for Cliff Lee being invincible. As I watched in amazement, the San Francisco Giants did something no one else in history could do Wednesday night --- they defeated Lee in a game after the season ended (I hate the overused "post-season.") If one game means anything, the Giants can be expected to be pesky, especially if Freddy Sanchez continues to be Ty Cobb.
While the World Series is an overblown extravaganza, if is worth watching ... even with two non-marquee teams involved. In fact, it's kind of refreshing. Even if the Twins and Rockies aren't involved.
THERE ARE BIGGER THINGS, THOUGH
Like the mid-term elections. I did my early voting today and for the first time, used a computer to cast my ballot. The rural Minnesota precinct I used to call home used only paper ballots, and then used a machine to count the ballots. Many times, as I worked at "election headquarters" in my previous life as a news editor, there would be a monumental breakdown of the counting machine, inevitably making all of us sit in the courthouse until dawn's early light.
I was not a big fan of election night for that reason. I would get up bright and early on election day, cast my ballot, do my other work and then head for the "election headquarters" at about 9 to wait for the results to come in. If I was lucky, we had paginated most of the paper by then, leaving only a huge election article and charts and graphs to slap in the paper (with the up-to-date numbers, of course). But things never went as planned, despite the best efforts of the hard workers at the courthouse. Someone would always write in Mickey Mouse or George Jetson and, in addition, foul up their ballot by voting for two or three governor candidates to boot. That left the counting machine cranky and smoking, and the mainly-volunteers at the courthouse would go into trouble-shooting mode while I ate cookies, smoozed with other reporters or watched TV. I would phone in results as they arrived to the Associated Press, which would also get cranky when the results weren't timely. There were many elections when, after leaving my house at 6 a.m. to get to work, I didn't arrive home until 6 or 7 a.m. the next day. That's a schedule for young folks only.
I have to again heap kudos on the election crew. While people are watching television at home on election night, there is a beehive of activity with people counting votes. The number of voters must match the actual number of votes cast, hence the wrench in the works once in awhile. I was impressed with my experience here in Colorado Thursday. I went through several stations prior to processing my ballot. Many election judges were there to ensure that I had proper ID, that I had registered and that I knew how to operate the voting machine.
It was mighty nice to cast my ballot Thursday and not have to worry about dissecting the results on election night. I am mighty tired of "robocalls" from candidates, and the incessant, disgusting arguing on television. I have become good at avoiding these discussions, which for the most part, are an insult to Americans everywhere. As I've said before, when did it become so common to treat people with such disrespect? Perhaps this election will help to clear some of this muck away
While the World Series is an overblown extravaganza, if is worth watching ... even with two non-marquee teams involved. In fact, it's kind of refreshing. Even if the Twins and Rockies aren't involved.
THERE ARE BIGGER THINGS, THOUGH
Like the mid-term elections. I did my early voting today and for the first time, used a computer to cast my ballot. The rural Minnesota precinct I used to call home used only paper ballots, and then used a machine to count the ballots. Many times, as I worked at "election headquarters" in my previous life as a news editor, there would be a monumental breakdown of the counting machine, inevitably making all of us sit in the courthouse until dawn's early light.
I was not a big fan of election night for that reason. I would get up bright and early on election day, cast my ballot, do my other work and then head for the "election headquarters" at about 9 to wait for the results to come in. If I was lucky, we had paginated most of the paper by then, leaving only a huge election article and charts and graphs to slap in the paper (with the up-to-date numbers, of course). But things never went as planned, despite the best efforts of the hard workers at the courthouse. Someone would always write in Mickey Mouse or George Jetson and, in addition, foul up their ballot by voting for two or three governor candidates to boot. That left the counting machine cranky and smoking, and the mainly-volunteers at the courthouse would go into trouble-shooting mode while I ate cookies, smoozed with other reporters or watched TV. I would phone in results as they arrived to the Associated Press, which would also get cranky when the results weren't timely. There were many elections when, after leaving my house at 6 a.m. to get to work, I didn't arrive home until 6 or 7 a.m. the next day. That's a schedule for young folks only.
I have to again heap kudos on the election crew. While people are watching television at home on election night, there is a beehive of activity with people counting votes. The number of voters must match the actual number of votes cast, hence the wrench in the works once in awhile. I was impressed with my experience here in Colorado Thursday. I went through several stations prior to processing my ballot. Many election judges were there to ensure that I had proper ID, that I had registered and that I knew how to operate the voting machine.
It was mighty nice to cast my ballot Thursday and not have to worry about dissecting the results on election night. I am mighty tired of "robocalls" from candidates, and the incessant, disgusting arguing on television. I have become good at avoiding these discussions, which for the most part, are an insult to Americans everywhere. As I've said before, when did it become so common to treat people with such disrespect? Perhaps this election will help to clear some of this muck away
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
We'll see who has the last word
I love the story in the New York tabloids today about Texas pitcher Cliff Lee, or rather, about his wife, Kristen Lee. It seems New York's unruly Yankee fans were rude to Kristen when Cliff pitched against their team earlier this month, allegedly splashing her with beer and insults, among other things.
Why is this a story? Because Cliff Lee, as the best pitcher in the game right now, is in the Yankees' sights as a free agent acquisition. And with good reason. Every time Lee takes the mound against the Yankees, the "Bombers" are helpless against him. It should be noted that he's lights-out against every other team as well.
The funniest part of the story for me is that Lee's agent insists that Kristen's comments will not stand in the way of Lee possibly becoming a Yankee.
Right. I believe Cliff's wife's opinion will make a huge difference in where he plays in the future. Her opinion is certainly worth a lot more than his agent's. Money may not talk in this instance.
I also got a huge kick out of the fact that 38-year-old Todd Bouman, a Minnesota resident, was signed on by Jacksonville to play quarterback after its top two QBs were knocked out of a game, leaving the Jaguars without a veteran in this key position. Enter Bouman, who was in Pipestone, Minn., helping his brother Troy coach the Pipestone Area Arrow football team. He took what was probably a surprising phone call from his former coach Jack Del Rio, and within hours, was in Jacksonville. On Sunday, Bouman was leading the Jags to a first-half lead against Kansas City --- after not playing in an NFL game in a few years.
How many other athletes could have done the same thing? Not many. While Brett Favre has always been the darling of the media's eye, perhaps Todd Bouman should be the poster-guy for professionalism. It couldn't happen to a nicer guy from a nicer family.
Why is this a story? Because Cliff Lee, as the best pitcher in the game right now, is in the Yankees' sights as a free agent acquisition. And with good reason. Every time Lee takes the mound against the Yankees, the "Bombers" are helpless against him. It should be noted that he's lights-out against every other team as well.
The funniest part of the story for me is that Lee's agent insists that Kristen's comments will not stand in the way of Lee possibly becoming a Yankee.
Right. I believe Cliff's wife's opinion will make a huge difference in where he plays in the future. Her opinion is certainly worth a lot more than his agent's. Money may not talk in this instance.
I also got a huge kick out of the fact that 38-year-old Todd Bouman, a Minnesota resident, was signed on by Jacksonville to play quarterback after its top two QBs were knocked out of a game, leaving the Jaguars without a veteran in this key position. Enter Bouman, who was in Pipestone, Minn., helping his brother Troy coach the Pipestone Area Arrow football team. He took what was probably a surprising phone call from his former coach Jack Del Rio, and within hours, was in Jacksonville. On Sunday, Bouman was leading the Jags to a first-half lead against Kansas City --- after not playing in an NFL game in a few years.
How many other athletes could have done the same thing? Not many. While Brett Favre has always been the darling of the media's eye, perhaps Todd Bouman should be the poster-guy for professionalism. It couldn't happen to a nicer guy from a nicer family.
Monday, October 25, 2010
AWOL no more!!!!
I've been leaning on my shovel long enough. So to speak. I could claim any number of excuses: I've been busy. Not feeling so well. Writer's block.
In truth, I've been searching for a direction. After 30 years of writing, it has been a huge shock NOT to be writing anymore. Sure, I've checked the ads and have even contacted the local newspaper to see if they needed any help. Apparently, no one needs old, crusty folks like me, when there are young, vibrant types around. Or, maybe --- as I suspect --- newspapers are struggling for survival and there just aren't many openings to be had. It turns out I'm okay with that, though I have certainly struggled with forced retirement. Whenever I have one of my frequent nightmares, I roll around in bed dreading the thousands of deadlines (many against insurmountable odds) in more than 30 years of newspapering. I wake up with a start from the latest fitful attempt to sleep and heave a huge sigh of relief.
Really, deadlines have never bothered me, because of my organizational skills. Even early in my career, I was not affected by going to an evening basketball game and then heading back to the office to type up the game results by a specific time. I was only late, and that was because, while at Huron College, I made the mistake of inviting some friends along. For them, my getting back to the office was hardly important. We repaired to the local watering hole and, well, several hours later, I weaved back to Huron to face the glare of my editor. I never made the mistake again. But as I grew older, the workload, combined with the deadline, took its toll.
Anyway, all that to say I feel rejuvenated and have some blog ideas in mind, as well as some specific postings. Even if no one reads it, I'll feel better.
In closing, an idea for the pitiful political pundits out there. If people are truly sensitive toward the feelings of others --- specifically, bullied students who feel so isolated they want to commit suicide --- maybe they should consider being kinder to those they oppose. Whoops! They forgot to do that?? Name-calling is truly for bullies and other types.
In truth, I've been searching for a direction. After 30 years of writing, it has been a huge shock NOT to be writing anymore. Sure, I've checked the ads and have even contacted the local newspaper to see if they needed any help. Apparently, no one needs old, crusty folks like me, when there are young, vibrant types around. Or, maybe --- as I suspect --- newspapers are struggling for survival and there just aren't many openings to be had. It turns out I'm okay with that, though I have certainly struggled with forced retirement. Whenever I have one of my frequent nightmares, I roll around in bed dreading the thousands of deadlines (many against insurmountable odds) in more than 30 years of newspapering. I wake up with a start from the latest fitful attempt to sleep and heave a huge sigh of relief.
Really, deadlines have never bothered me, because of my organizational skills. Even early in my career, I was not affected by going to an evening basketball game and then heading back to the office to type up the game results by a specific time. I was only late, and that was because, while at Huron College, I made the mistake of inviting some friends along. For them, my getting back to the office was hardly important. We repaired to the local watering hole and, well, several hours later, I weaved back to Huron to face the glare of my editor. I never made the mistake again. But as I grew older, the workload, combined with the deadline, took its toll.
Anyway, all that to say I feel rejuvenated and have some blog ideas in mind, as well as some specific postings. Even if no one reads it, I'll feel better.
In closing, an idea for the pitiful political pundits out there. If people are truly sensitive toward the feelings of others --- specifically, bullied students who feel so isolated they want to commit suicide --- maybe they should consider being kinder to those they oppose. Whoops! They forgot to do that?? Name-calling is truly for bullies and other types.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Let the civil discourse begin
After all those years in a newsroom, I now work in a library, a beautiful, roomy building with lots and lots of books. Since I often place the books on shelves after patrons have checked them out, I find myself intrigued with some and usually end up checking out those books myself.
One of those was a 1994 "untold" story of one of my favorite singing groups, the Carpenters. I read nearly the entire book before remembering that upon Karen Carpenter's death in 1983 from anorexia, singer and "comedienne" Bette Midler used this tragedy to make jokes and fun of the group and of Karen. Midler, probably through pressure from the public and even from writers of the day, apologized and even came to regret being so classless.
I don't think such a thing would happen today. There is an incredible meanness out there --- especially among members of the print and broadcast media --- that is unprecedented in American history. Small wonder that viewership and readership is falling like a rock as Americans back away from the stench of such journalistic effort. But it's not just the paid hacks; look in your daily newspaper and the unpaid pundits are ripping away too because they get to make "comments" on stories and programs. While the partisan divide rages, the rest of America is left to watch and shake its collective head. The discourse is often uncivil, making one wonder where the real adults are.
All of this is making it a real stressful time to be a newswatcher. My mom used to be watching one of the cable news channels when I'd come to visit. I'd find her agitated and shaking her head over the arguing and shouting, the inability for anyone to listen. I finally advised her to stop watching because I could see it wasn't good for her. It's not good for anyone to watch. Or to read. Most of us are too busy living and working. Life is too short for this sort of wasted energy.
Which brings me to wonder how people could consider running for public office at the risk of having their personal space so invaded by the same sort of hackers who would steal your credit card. Even a candidate's family is not safe from misguided, advocacy-related attacks based on your being of a certain political persuasion. This would seem to be a chilling indictment against the direction we as a country are headed. But thankfully, many people have courage of their convictions. Even judges can't strike that down.
One of those was a 1994 "untold" story of one of my favorite singing groups, the Carpenters. I read nearly the entire book before remembering that upon Karen Carpenter's death in 1983 from anorexia, singer and "comedienne" Bette Midler used this tragedy to make jokes and fun of the group and of Karen. Midler, probably through pressure from the public and even from writers of the day, apologized and even came to regret being so classless.
I don't think such a thing would happen today. There is an incredible meanness out there --- especially among members of the print and broadcast media --- that is unprecedented in American history. Small wonder that viewership and readership is falling like a rock as Americans back away from the stench of such journalistic effort. But it's not just the paid hacks; look in your daily newspaper and the unpaid pundits are ripping away too because they get to make "comments" on stories and programs. While the partisan divide rages, the rest of America is left to watch and shake its collective head. The discourse is often uncivil, making one wonder where the real adults are.
All of this is making it a real stressful time to be a newswatcher. My mom used to be watching one of the cable news channels when I'd come to visit. I'd find her agitated and shaking her head over the arguing and shouting, the inability for anyone to listen. I finally advised her to stop watching because I could see it wasn't good for her. It's not good for anyone to watch. Or to read. Most of us are too busy living and working. Life is too short for this sort of wasted energy.
Which brings me to wonder how people could consider running for public office at the risk of having their personal space so invaded by the same sort of hackers who would steal your credit card. Even a candidate's family is not safe from misguided, advocacy-related attacks based on your being of a certain political persuasion. This would seem to be a chilling indictment against the direction we as a country are headed. But thankfully, many people have courage of their convictions. Even judges can't strike that down.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
First impressions!
With this effort, I humbly join the ranks of the blogging industry!! It is something I have considered doing for several years, since my retirement from the newspaper industry in 2007. It was an industry that changed immensely from my paper boy days in junior high, and even from the time I joined the staff of the Huron Daily Plainsman in Huron, S.D. as a stringer in the late 1960s.
From the time I first took in the sights and smells of the newsroom, I was hooked, if not proficient at what I was doing. I learned at the feet of Roger Kasa, the "real newspaperman" in my life and an early mentor. Roger gave me a shot, taught me right from wrong, and the rest is a career! I can recall being sports editor in 1972 at Huron when I lost both contact lenses while taking a team photo of the '72 Tigers. Believe it or not, team members were on their hands and knees looking for my lenses! I was only 20 years old at the time --- just slightly older than the players in high school --- and in the first year, helped name one of my good friends to the All-Eastern South Dakota Conference all-league team. I was easily the youngest in the fraternity of ESD sports editors, rubbing elbows with the likes of John Egan at the Argus, Ron Lentz at Watertown and Hod Nielsen of Yankton. From the start, I loved the idea of covering games and interviewing players and coaches. As the years went by at Huron, I once played in and covered a baseball game at the same time.
I displayed little aptitude for newspaper work in high school. My acquaintences at Huron High School would likely remember me as a singer (not a top-notch student!) my one claim to fame. In a class of more than 300, it was tough to stake your claim, but I remember only good things about high school. I think all of us forever will remain in memory as we appeared in high school yearbooks. But how all of us have changed! In the 40 years since high school graduation, life has occurred. We have married, had children and lived our dreams and careers. We have suffered sorrows that we never anticipated as teenagers. Most of us have lost the parents and other family who nurtured us through those years, and even lost contact with the friends we cruised Dakota Ave. with. But I believe we have held each other in high regard as we have matured, even if we have lost touch with each other along the way. It's a beautiful thing to reconnect with friends, even though you may look older and different than you did in 1968-70. (Saying that, I missed the high school class 40-year reunion Aug. 13-14.)
I don't know where this blog will go but I hope to delve into a number of subjects, to somehow make a difference. One of the tough things about retirement is that it is such a dramatic change. For more than 35 years, I worked for the public as a newspaper editor, but I have received a different sort of satisfaction from my last two jobs: working with veterans at the Sioux Falls VA Hospital, and now, working with the public at a library in Greeley, Colo. I love the idea of sorting out a problem to help someone, and when it all works, it gave me more satisfaction than cracking a big story. Now I have decided to try writing as a hobby again.
On this blog, you can expect to read my wicked humor, see my photography, learn about my family and about other subjects of the day. I also hope to dedicate some of this blog to the memories (with photos) of Huron, S.D. and Huron High School/Huron College. It may be painful ...
From the time I first took in the sights and smells of the newsroom, I was hooked, if not proficient at what I was doing. I learned at the feet of Roger Kasa, the "real newspaperman" in my life and an early mentor. Roger gave me a shot, taught me right from wrong, and the rest is a career! I can recall being sports editor in 1972 at Huron when I lost both contact lenses while taking a team photo of the '72 Tigers. Believe it or not, team members were on their hands and knees looking for my lenses! I was only 20 years old at the time --- just slightly older than the players in high school --- and in the first year, helped name one of my good friends to the All-Eastern South Dakota Conference all-league team. I was easily the youngest in the fraternity of ESD sports editors, rubbing elbows with the likes of John Egan at the Argus, Ron Lentz at Watertown and Hod Nielsen of Yankton. From the start, I loved the idea of covering games and interviewing players and coaches. As the years went by at Huron, I once played in and covered a baseball game at the same time.
I displayed little aptitude for newspaper work in high school. My acquaintences at Huron High School would likely remember me as a singer (not a top-notch student!) my one claim to fame. In a class of more than 300, it was tough to stake your claim, but I remember only good things about high school. I think all of us forever will remain in memory as we appeared in high school yearbooks. But how all of us have changed! In the 40 years since high school graduation, life has occurred. We have married, had children and lived our dreams and careers. We have suffered sorrows that we never anticipated as teenagers. Most of us have lost the parents and other family who nurtured us through those years, and even lost contact with the friends we cruised Dakota Ave. with. But I believe we have held each other in high regard as we have matured, even if we have lost touch with each other along the way. It's a beautiful thing to reconnect with friends, even though you may look older and different than you did in 1968-70. (Saying that, I missed the high school class 40-year reunion Aug. 13-14.)
I don't know where this blog will go but I hope to delve into a number of subjects, to somehow make a difference. One of the tough things about retirement is that it is such a dramatic change. For more than 35 years, I worked for the public as a newspaper editor, but I have received a different sort of satisfaction from my last two jobs: working with veterans at the Sioux Falls VA Hospital, and now, working with the public at a library in Greeley, Colo. I love the idea of sorting out a problem to help someone, and when it all works, it gave me more satisfaction than cracking a big story. Now I have decided to try writing as a hobby again.
On this blog, you can expect to read my wicked humor, see my photography, learn about my family and about other subjects of the day. I also hope to dedicate some of this blog to the memories (with photos) of Huron, S.D. and Huron High School/Huron College. It may be painful ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)