Fire rings

The solstice is coming. I remember all too well the fire rings at the beach in the winter. We would drag in stacks of wood pallets, as many as we could find, never enough considering how well guarded they were down there in SoCal. We would always send somebody ahead earlier in the day, tough duty on a state beach, cooler full of beer, sunset full of toxins and pollutants, always a wonderful sight to see. But we would eventually congregate in mass come dark, boom boxes blaring, food sizzling on hibachis or charcoal grills, beers and other libations escalating the level of conversation and merriment. And while it wasn't necessarily the thing to do each and every time the longest night of the year came about, there would always be someone in the crowd who would want to test out the level of their testosterone and leap over the flames. I never saw burning calzones to mark the occasion but I am sure that there were plenty of singed hairs about to talk about in the morning.


I can't imagine life in that region without fire pits for those last summer nights, for those wildly cold winter holy days, for the evenings in the spring and the fall when the air would be soft and warm and not quite seasonally uncomfortable. I think of all the rites of passage and all the rituals of growing up that would be lost if those rings went away. Sure, there will always be fools who jump over blazing pallet fires. Those same fools will always sing too loud, laugh to heartily, behave too boorishly and find ways to piss off the neighbors, but then again, without them we would have no reason to feel okay about behaving wickedly and foolishly on the Feast of Fools or the Winter Solstice. We would have no right to our rites, to our revels, to our fire gods. We would wonder what the fuss is about and lose connection to the real reasons why we light fires in the night and wish to be one with Thor and Bacchus and the rest of the cooler, wilder and more sympathetically fun gods.

So here's to the solstice, to fire circles and to the great cycles of life!

Salud!


http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-newport-fire-pits28-2009oct28,0,4525544.story

Where trails lead

Right now I'm sitting in a very nice old chair I found at Goodwill the other day. As I was leaving the store a man walked up to me and began to tell me how to fix the material that was unraveling on the back of the chair. At closer inspection we both found out that the fabric was coming apart due to a bad staple job. He recommended hot glue. I found out that the man was an upholstery guy from way back. What are the odds of that? Leave a store with a four buck chair that takes two hands to carry ("good buy, that chair" said the upholstery man, "if you can carry it in one hand it's not worth buying") and come across a guy who can tell me right off the bat not only that my chair is grand but worth recovering as well. Wow. Love where life leads you when you are not asking for directions.

Earlier today I found myself on a "backwoods" trail instead of an interstate highway, or, for that matter, the information superhighway. I had finished up my required "three job searches" for the week and decided, last minute, to put off a planned five hundred mile ride to Boise until next week and take a long walk, instead. I figured that I needed to stick around, act on the latest job information that landed earlier that afternoon in my email box before I took off down the road. Plus I needed to secure a storage unit, spend a bit of time clearing out the little house in the back, to get that place ready for all possibilities, possibly even installing a renter if selling the house isn't this fall's big event. Clearly, life is not providing me with a map for the next part of my life.

As for that backwood trail, well, let's just say thank you, Port Orchard, for annexing The Woods to our community. I don't feel bad these days when I take advantage of the numerous paths and trails that wind through their holdings. As fun as they are to walk I found that they can be a bit of a maze sometimes. I found this out the hard way when I went out for a stroll last week. It was late in the day, the sun was down, there was heavy cloud cover and the trails were poorly marked. By the time I found a parking lot the streetlights were on and I found that I was a quarter mile down the road from my car. It was a good moment to reflect upon the "10 Essentials" I was taught years ago but more a moment to reflect on the realities of poorly marked trails. That simple walk through "the woods" retaught me a valuable lesson and that is that we only think we are in control. The casual stroll that we are taking through life, the one that we think is just a walk through the park can end up being a long journey through an ever darkening and deepening wood, one without markers, one with strange birds calling out in terror, with weird rustlings going on under the brush.

Yet today I emerged from the woods confident. I was happy to find that the street was where I thought it was. I felt the same way when I submitted an application and two more came back asking for my attention. One job in particular is for the State of Idaho, a late shift receptionist at a hospital for the developmentally disabled. What a departure from all things I have known. When I think of that job I picture my old friend Benj at the Fort Lyon's Veteran's Hospital, I see old references to Ken Kesey and One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. I picture the great American Novel being written at the desk during long quiet stretches on the 10 to six in the morning shift. And, the big plus to all that would be that my children would be living right down the road.

I think of where my life has been leading me these last few years and I know that my strange travails of late are what I've been needing. Yeah, it's all been a very generous and timely ass kicking delivered straight from some kind and all seeing and easily amused god. I suppose we all could use a real ass kicking now and then. I passed up a real one, years ago, not too long after I got out of the service. It was late at night, in a tough town, and I found myself in a fairly rough bar with my father. My father was a hard core man's man and he was more than loaded that night, loaded enought to want to take on the NFL linebacker who was the bouncer at the door. I got my pop out of the bar that night with no damage to his body, but, looking back at it, I think that there was a bit of damage done to his soul. I know he had to wonder what kind of son his mothered raised. I remember the long quiet ride back home from The Alamo that night, back to his trailer in Arleta. I can still feel the steering wheel of that big old Caddy of his in my hands I drove on down the freeway away from San Fernando. He told me that night, after I dragged him into his house and tucked him in, that he was disappointed in me, that he expected me to go out of that bar with him back to back, take on the world, or, at the very least, the linebacker.

Over what, I had to wonder. Hell, even he didn't know the next day what the beef was about.

The point to that story? The point is that I let my old man down, that I didn't get into a real old fashioned bar room brawl over nothing. And while I wasn't a candy ass I used diplomacy instead of my fists to get us out of the bar in one piece. But maybe fists would have been better, more John Fordian, more Donvan's Reef like. Looking back I could see that diplomacy, that talk, that walking away was my style. This summer I got was I deserved. I was long overdue for a good ass-kicking and because I didn't get around to it back then I feel that the universe knew that the bill was due. The fact that I got such a big dose of it was a "just because I love you" kind of moment.

Sure, I didn't come out of it bloodied in the physical form that my pop would have liked but I think I finally got that high horse I've been resting on for years kicked out from under me. Yeah, I landed on my ass hard. I may not have the bloody nose that some might of wished for for me but I am still reeling from the psychic beating I took. Let's just say that I won't let it happen to me again. It was about as big of a Zen moment as a man could ever ask or wish for and I'm the wiser for it.

So today I fearlessly wandered the trails of The Woods and took on the travails of unemployment fearlessly as well. I found a bit of sunshine as I wandered among the grey clouds and I was happy for it. Today I took out a pen knife and marked my path with numerous scratchings along the way to let the world know that I was alive. And today I took to the paved road through the Woods, waiting for the man who really had a right to kick my butt three years ago to pass me by. Yeah, today I was looking for that guy. Today I was fearless. What could he possibly do to me that life hasn't done already? Kick my ass? Get in line. I'm already "inbetween positions". I lost my job and the respect of my Estranged One because of words, words to a woman who is long gone, who is and forever shall be the embodiment of undying love.

That in itself is a trail enough to follow. Or blaze. Or blunder through. My choice.

Come along if you wish, but as the old adage goes, lead, follow or get the hell out of the way.

Salud!

KB Toys, Mr Kaufman and my kids

It was sad to see that KB Toys was no longer at the Centralia outlet mall. It was a big fixture in our lives when we were somewhat new parents here in the Puget Sound. It was an out of the way place for a family on a limited budget to take a field trip to, but we would always manage to fit it in at some point on our travels either coming or going to Portland or other sourjourns down south. We would always stop there on our way to the coast and let the kids go crazy for stuff to lose in the sand. It was conveniently places across the street from a Mickie D's, and for the sake of toddlers and diaper changing, right next door to a public restroom. And for a while it was even built into our business budget, as it was always a last minute place to stock up on tanks and airplanes before the big October toy soldier show down in Lake City.

It was bittersweet to read about Mr Kaufman, about his life and his love of toys. For his love of toys alone he would have been most welcome in our home. As it was he played a part in the history of our family and was most certainly a big part of my children's childhood. Thank you Mr Mr Kaufman for KB Toys. We'll miss the break from the road and the bargains and the sense of place we used to share with the employees of the company in the same way we'll always miss our children the way they were when they were little people.

Salud!

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/18/nyregion/18kaufman.html?hpw

"If" and the Old Men of Disney

Herb Ryman, first artist on the left. The photo is of the first bunch of WED folks to come out of the studios. What incredible people they were.

Thinking of you, Herb, and seeing all those posts and images out there attached to your name can sometimes make me feel like I have somehow squandered my life, not lived or accomplished quite enough but then again, here I am, still living a good life, doing what I was doing when I first met you and moreso and still honoring you and your life and that of old man Kipling's. So instead of saying that my life has been half lived, let us say "I think not" and lift a glass to your memory and to the rest of a life that has yet to be lived.

But, let's talk about "If".

What a gift you gave me that day.

I know that somewhere along the line I posted this poem before. You must remember the details. I worked for Disney at the time. I was newly married, newly back "in country" and working against some sort of diabolical layoff clock. I was working with you, with men, who, in the animation industry, were giants but I had no idea who you were. That was due to the lack of easy access to video at the time. Years later, when I would watch some old piece of Disney animation or another I would see your name, the names of the men that I had once served and shout out to my kids "I checked out books to that man!"

So, there I was, in the stacks, a somewhat callow youth, fresh out of the fleet, working a desk at the WED research library, the one and only "special library" of my library career. It was a happening time for the company and I was happy for the work. I came to Disney from a temp job with an electrical parts firm, but that didn't matter much as my first wife was very jealous of my appointment with Disney. She thought that her part time visual merchandising job for the Yokosuka Exchange would carry the day and that she would be taken into some department or another instead of me. Damn if that data processing of mine in the fleet didn't carry the day, instead.

But the sad thing was that at the time I wasn't given the support that I wanted from my boss as far as a library career was concerned. So, instead of pursuing a job in the research business I decided I wanted to be more like my father, instead. I wanted to be a grip in the movie industry, a desert motorcyclist, a rough and tough man like my old man. I wanted to jump out of perfectly safe airplanes and drink beer like a Titan and be a fire fighter like I wanted to be in the fleet, something like that, all those things instead of a rationally married man. Instead of realizing all those dreams my first wife left me instead and went to live with my father's girlfriend in Glendale. I went on to qualify for LA County's fire department hiring roster but affirmative action laid me low. I ended up moving back with my mom because my stepdad had a last minute midlife crisis that involved a Korean hairdresser. I ended up going back to Santa Ana, back to the old family home to help my mom through her crisis. Not a bad deal in a way, so I say, but my brother might say different as I kicked him out of his room and put him up into the attic. Our relationship was never the same after that, to say the least.

But during that time I met the great Herb Ryman, who not only sent me a very nice Christmas card that first year but also gave me a copy of the following poem. I have no idea what happened to the original copy he gave me but I have kept a copy of that poem in wallet ever since. It was a long time ago, Herb, but let me say to you "thank you" not only for the poem you gave me but for putting up with that callow youth who served you oh so long ago. If only I had known who you and all those grand old men of Disney were at the time....


IF.....

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,'
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more -
you'll be a Man, my son!

by Rudyard Kipling

Salud!

Of two hearts

The weather outside today reminds me of why I need to keep my eye on the prize. So much left to do and very little time left to do it with.

After a week of absolutely grand weather I woke up and faced a cool, grey morning outside my window. Not too bad of a start, I suppose, and yes, it could go away, but as Hot Dog King likes to say it's the cool weather that drives his sales so maybe for his sake I'll wish for this cool grey day to stick around through, say, two o'clock. My feeling about is that it can go away and come back later on in the month. That's when big things are happening in my life.

The end of October has been my focus for, well, seems like forever. All my work and energies have been sited on the 31st, and is where all my fretting, planning, prayers, frustrations, fall back plans are all headed. Right now I am still focused on selling my house, but that's strickly an afterthought of summer. I worked like an animal earlier in process to get it ready and I haven't had anyone come through in weeks. But maybe because I have shifted my energies a bit. I am back in the house again, living in it as if I still live here. The tacit agreement between me and the realtor was that the house was supposed to be vacant. After awhile that ruse didn't wash. I needed a place to sleep that wasn't filled up with boxes and spiders and where better to do that than in my own bed?

Where I lay my head down to sleep is what the end of the month is all about. I am on the road and am fast approaching an offramp of sorts. As much as I would like to get off and take in a rest stop before I get there I may not have that option anymore as things are happening now and I think by the end of the month my time in the Pacific Northwest, my fate, may be sealed. Nice to know that something will be clear. I could use a bit of clarity right about now.

What's happening are two interviews in Idaho, and possibly another one here in Port Orchard. What's interesting about them is that none of them are librarian positions. The two out of state jobs have customer service components built into them but that's about as close as they come to my chosen profession. The one here in town has a customer service angle, too, but again, is way out there from what I've been doing for the last twenty five years. The only thing that all of them have in common is the rate of pay, which is about 14 dollars an hour.

Wow.

But it's what they represent that thrills me more than anything. "And what is that, Mr Accumulate Man?" you might ask. Well, what these interviews are saying to me is that my skill set, which I was worrying an awful lot about, is a bit broader than I thought or even hoped for. I have been meaning to do up a new resume based on skills and achievements rather than a chronological list of all my librarian assignments and duties. I'm even taking a class later on the month to help me focus on what my skills and strengths are. When you've been doing the same thing for so long it's easy to overlook what it is that you are actually doing. In my head I may think "I'm just a librarian", but really, that title is like a stew. A great stew isn't composed of one thing but is a nice mix of a wide variety of ingredients, all put to the test, as it were, under high heat. How it turns out is up to the cook and the larder and life. I think if I were to rate myself as a stew I would say that I am a pretty tasty dish.

I think somewhere along the line that I forgot that. That my somewhat tasty work life hasn't been as mononfocused as I sometimes like to think it was.

So, what are those upcoming interviews for? What am I getting all excited about? Well, one of the jobs is based in Twin Falls. Workforce Consultant. I would be working for the Department of Labor, helping wonderful folks like me find work. Nice. I can relate to that. The other state job would be, for the moment, a trainee position. If I am chosen I would be working in Boise for the Department of Transportation as a Port of Entry Inspector. Picture this man finally working in a hairy chested male environment again. I would handling surly truck drivers instead of impatient moms at the desk, asking for bills of lading instead of library cards, checking out loads under tarps instead of doing fingerplays and baking cakes for book club gals. What a world of difference, what a change. As for that position here in town, well, that job would be a bit ironic, considering how hard I've been trying to leave: Moving Coordinator. Picture the man behind the desk who has been trying to sell his house helping other people move out of state. Touching and just a bit tragic.

But see, there's the rub. I like where I live and if I could have my way I would never leave. I have friends here, have some interesting things happening here as well. I'm a once a week Chili Czar for the Hot Dog King, I have my projectionist gig going on, I will be working with Helpline once a week starting next week and have a bagging thing lined up with Rosa Coffee on Bay Street later on in the month. I still throw small dinner parties, folks have me over for supper. I know the merchants and they know me. And frankly, I do like the weather, grey days or not. I know, all small stuff, but still, it's where I live.

I love my house, my view, my community, it's history. I may not have a lot of cash coming in but there are bigger things afoot. My little house has a renter possibly lined up for later in the fall and if that doesn't work out the gal across the street who runs the B and B may have an idea or two for helping me make a bit of side cash. The only thing that keeps me focused on that out of state line is Punkin and the boys. They are the reasons why I am still dogged about this move. Nothing else could get me to go. And if I don't go now, well, then, come the spring I'll start the process all over again.

But for the moment my work, my career, cashflow, all hang in the lurch. I have two, possibly three or even four opportunities coming up, all heading in different directions. I may be clearing out my house later on this month, or not. All depends how my resume and phone voice or my visage impresses the audience.

As always, I'll be sure to let you know.

Highways cross and split and sometimes carry you to places you never knew existed before. Will I ever be a librarian again? I have to admit, if I never have to do another summer's worth of summer reading programming I would be a very happy man. "What did he just say?" Heresy, yeah, I know, but there it is.

Salud!

Romance lessons on tape

Can "True Love" be bought or sold or conjuered up? Frankly, between you and me, I don't think so.

I shop around in second hands alot these days. My biggest fascination of the day was to stumble upon a multi-volume, how-to, non-fiction series on how to achieve romance for married types in VHS section of the Silverdale Goodwill. I suppose that long marrieds need a boost ever now and then, that they need to revisit the old primer that got them started to begin with in order to get the old spark plugs firing in unison once again. Or for the first time. Whatever.

But what struck me funny was that it would take a whole set of tapes for a couple folks to learn how to be romantic all over again, or for the first time. I didn't jot down the title of the set, but then again, maybe I should have. Somebody, somewhere, along the line went out and laid out good money to learn how to be a more romantically inclined partner. Maybe I've had it all wrong all these years and that tape set would have set me straight. Maybe at ten bucks or so it was the most invaluable find in the whole gosh darn store that day.

Oh, yeah, sure.

What I considered a bit more funny than that was the slug of French films I stumbled across in the same stacks that day. Now those films, I have to say, ended up in my basket. I love foreign film. For awhile I had a colleague who was absolutely nuts for foreign films. I made sure to watch at least one or two a week in order to have something to talk about at the desk, for it seemed that most other movies just didn't have the same appeal. Somewhat snobbish about film as far as I'm concerned, but, well, whatever, it takes all kinds. No matter, I know the appeal of a good French or Japanese or Chinese film. I love what the Spanish are doing these days in the cinema world and have never turned up my nose to a Fassbinder or a Wenders film and know that Thai cinema is the one to keep an eye on. I watch all kinds of movies, borrow foreign titles from Hollywood Video and from my local library, occasionally catch the rare foreign film now and then at my local art house, but as far as adding foreign titles to my collection I don't find too many non-Hollywood films out there to buy. Today was an exception. Happy days for me and for my video collection.

Okay, this post is not all about movies. I guess what I'm driving at is that someone, somewhere along the line missed out on a true romantic opportunity in the VHS stacks. I can't figure out why those movies I found today were missed. Was it a technology issue? Was it because too many folks are out are out of tune as far as the humanities are concerned? Maybe too many folks are caught up in business courses in college and not attuned to the arts. Maybe too many folks out there are paying more attention to the needs of their libidos instead of their hearts.

Maybe it's our society, or our contemporary culture. Maybe it's the way we "talk" to each other. I listen to contemporary music and watch the tele while I'm on the road and see that maybe, just maybe we are a bit too hung up on the physical side of life. Maybe we read too deep into the power of the body, of a finely tuned physique. Maybe we are too hung up on hard physical power, on what professional sports supposed bring into our lives. Maybe our lifestyles are lacking in grace and charm and plain old caring about ourselves and that other person who matters in our relationships. Maybe we've just stopped caring about anyone but ourselves.

I think of what Hallmark tries to stuff down our collective throats with their cards and such and know that that's not "romance" no matter what they might say. I think of all the stuff I stumble across in Goodwill around Valentines Day, the teddy bears and plastic hearts and such and know that stuff has nothing to do with romance either. But take a man or a gal too obsessed with chasing the buck or trying to break the glass ceiling or spending too many hours in front of the tv or the internet or spending too much time nose deep in romance novels or magazines looking for romance and not paying attention to real life and I'll show you a seeker or a relationship that is in trouble.

Hence the need for that multi-volume tape set to kick start their romantic life.

I think of whoever it was that donated that video set, if they had come down to the store today and stood next to me and chatted awhile about movies they might not have had to hit up that movie set and might have thought twice about buying someone elses's advice about what love and romance is all about. Maybe they would have ended up picking up a tape or two out of my stack. Maybe they might have been on their way to a far more romantic evening than those talking heads in that multi volumed stack could have ever offered them.

My take on on what it would have taken to have a romantic evening? After a nice vist to Red Apple, after securing a couple bottles of good wine and some cheese and bread and few other items for supper they could have wandered the store..found some new linen, a cookbook or two, maybe picked up some champagne glasses, maybe found a silver or chrome plated wine bucket to go along with, maybe found a few new and interesting plates and bowls and such for dinner. Maybe they could have found a new and interesting piece of lighting, a couple of great pillows, a piece of music or two to go along with dinner and then, after all that, grabbed a handful of French movies. The stack that I have at my feet tonight isn't all about the classics. There are a number of what would be consider "contemporary French romance" films. Knowing that they didn't come out of Hollywood tells me that there's a bit skin in there. Old marrieds, beware!

So, leave those non-fiction romance sets alone and pick up on the vibes that you tend to see and read about in the personal ads, instead. What are most folks looking for other than walks on the beach, dinners out, bike rides in the country and moonlight drives? For someone to pay attention to them, to listen to them, to be kind, to take a bit time out of their busy lives to indulge in something other than their own pleasures for a change. Sometimes it takes a cruise around a second hand to set up the stage for a romantic evening, sometimes it takes a movie with subtitles and a sexy premise, but more times than not all it takes to spark and inspire romance is to be real, be there and be yourself and to pay attention to the needs of your lover.

So, old marrieds, take it from me, leave that non-fiction romance tape set behind on the shelf and find something a bit more..what? thrilling? sentimental? romantic? to snuggle up on the couch with next to your sweetie. You'll find that your fires will be rekindled in ways that you never imagined.

Salud!

What a hundred bucks will buy you

Thursday I was saved by the bell. The wolves are still out there but have been backed off a range or two. I know that it'll kill me later on but I took out my wee retirement. So, does that make me "retired"? Do I feel like I am retired? Am I now strapping on white shoes and hitting the links and watching Oprah in the afternoons in my barkalounger and hanging out with my homies on a bench in the park playing checkers? Oh, I think not. No, I'm still hustling for work.

Sure, taking out my retirement cash was crazy, and because of that I went alittle bit crazy after a three months of austerity. Yeah, today I went out shopping. Retail therapy. Blew all too much money considering my circumstances. Today was a good example of what controlled Mexican madness is all about. But when I tallied it all up it was all spent on all goods for the long run. Groceries, books, movies, clothes and music. And not one thing bought retail.

Huzzah!

Today I hit up three second hands, a pawn shop and a discount grocery store in two counties. Bought labeled goods (Ocean Pacific, Quicksilver, Ralph Lauren, Columbia, Cablela's), a nice stack of music, an even better stack of current movies (five dvds for ten bucks, cheaper than renting) and more than a few award winning cookbooks. I look around me and see while my haul could fill a couple boxes or more on moving day I am satisfied with my craziness. Yeah, I really couldn't "afford" to do it but I did it anyway. Why? Because we are a consumer society? Because we are trained like monkeys from birth down in the OC to shop whenever or however we can, damn the cost? No, because after working the summer away like a dog under the threat of punishment and exile from a somewhat suppressive agency I had to o something to relieve the pressure. Oh, yeah, baby, and I did, and I had FUN.

Face it, I am in exile. I am a long way from family but thankfully close in to friends who went out of their way to support me during my times of trial. Let's just say that blowing fifty some odd dollars shopping at the grocery store today felt like a party. I felt vindicated stocking my wine cellar with discounted wines, loading up my larder with canned goods. I felt that what I spent today was spent in the name of good will. Someday, and that day is soon, is tomorrow, hell, is everyday, was spent readying myself for the long haul. That "long haul" started months ago and has been staring me in the face all the while, even while I rifled through today's receipts.

Today I went out and blew a fortune. But today I socked in movies and books and things that in my wildest and most wicked of imaginations I would never think to ever borrow again from my local public agency. Today I went out and paid nine dollars for a bottle of wine that in my wildest imagination I would never think to spend twenty five dollars on. Today I blew ten bucks on a coat that was mostly a forty or fifty buck coat retail that I will pack away in my car, a coat that I will use going back and forth on those long and cold trips to Boise this upcoming winter. And today I went out and added candles, cookbooks, music and movies to my collection that someday I hope to share in the wee hours with somebody who cares a bit about me, or, while I'm waiting, with friends who like to cook, like to eat, like to drink wine and who, frankly, like me, like me for whom I am, and that is a thrifty man.

Salud!

Achingly, wonderously

I went out and about in the fall weather today. It would have been all too mundane to waste away the day doing yardwork and I was aching for something more along the lines of an exquisitely mundane experience so I took a drive instead, went all the way to Tacoma, ended up at Point Defiance Park. Wandered the Dahlia Trail, took in the poetry encrusted concrete waterfront walk, watched the white horses wrestle with the wind and the tide in the Sound, talked to smiling dogs, said "hola!" to highlander indios fresh off the truck. I sucked in heartily of the tanginess of the smokey city air, ate burgers that resembled those of my youth and spent oh too money around town like the misbegotten sailor I used to be.

Yeah, today I took into account the softness of the autumn air, avoided yard work like the plague and because I was either foolish or mad or a combination of both was blessed by the season. What a benediction. It was a good day to be alive and out and about. Hope your day was half as nice as mine.

Salud!

Small thrill, new skill, big passion

Today I started a new "job", well, rather, a new volunteer position. It does come with perks, will be teaching me a new set of job skills and shows me that passions don't necessarily come with big paychecks attached. I already knew that from my years in the librarian profession. Considering how many things in that profession fall under "manual skills" I have to wonder half the time if we shouldn't just label it a "trade".

I digress.

Today I started my apprenticeship in the fine art of film projection. And really, it is an art, in the way that cooking or painting or mud wrestling is an art. No one way to really do it. It's somewhat like brain surgery or brick laying or souffle building, every time you do it seems to be a different thing altogether. Today I went in at two in the afternoon and came out at eight a different man. I finally got to see movies from the other end of the beast. That sounded strange, sure, but there's some crazy stuff afoot in a movie house once you climb up and above the comfy seats and go up into the projection booth.

My teacher and boss felt I had a leg up on the rest of his trainees he's had if only because I used an 8MM at home and was familar with threading my old reel to reel. I suppose in some ways, yes, that old up and over and around threading thing I was used to was there with me today, but man, it was a completely different ball game being up there in the booth with two movies going round and round simultaneously, with paying customers in the lobby wanting popcorn and waiting patiently in the auditorium for their films to start. You can dabble all you want at home with your music and old flicks but once you get paying customers in your midst all the variable change and everything you do becomes all too real. Or "reel" in my case.

Picture a large circular dining room table, oh, say, six feet or more in diameter..that's how big a platter is for films. Then picture this strange, overhead and underfoot sort of freewheeling jungle of film vines snaking in and out of a projector, going back and forth onto that huge platter, then top that off with old school projection technology and you get the kind of day I got to have four or five times today. My boss was patient...he's been in the business for a dozen years or so..and he walked me through the steps more than once. It felt like the first day of school. I couldn't absorb enough information fast enough, and frankly it made my head spin faster than those gigantic reels spun the film.

But you know what? I did it. With help, sure, but I managed to pull off threading and setting up four different movies today. Plus I learned how to work the popcorn machine. And I got to watch part of a Korean vampire film, the whole of the new Kevin Spacey film Shrink and even swept the floor during intermission. Next week I get to unload films from the platters and break them down into their shipper boxes, load up an upcoming film. All that for free.

All job descriptions I see these days ask for experience. Sometimes you have to go out of your way and be willing to grab that experience without pay. For me it's gravy, or rather a free movie, a bag of popcorn and a Coke on top of the new skill set. For others it would be out of the question. Will I get to use this new found experience later on? Who knows? But for the son of a grip and an old movie maven this is a job made in heaven. For the moment, anyhow. See you at the movies!

Salud!

Need movie times? Here's the Historic Orchard site:
http://www.orchardtheater.com/

Baby, I'm a statistic!

The talking heads might tell us that the recession is over and the worst of it is behind us but the numbers say different.

There is a time to be out of work and then there's not. From what I can tell this is one of those times. Twenty six year unemployment high and jobs across the spectrum continue to be shed. Back in the day when I was a "golden boy" I wouldn't be worried right now. I'm not worried yet but still. An awful lot of folks are out there roaming around, looking hard for work. I should know because I am one of them.

All I have to say is keep your larder packed and your suit pressed, folks, it's going to be a long winter.

Salud!

http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-jobs3-2009oct03,0,2971924.story

Giving and receiving

For years I was the United Way coordinator at work and loved what it did for the community. We gave from the heart and those gifts found their way deep into the heart of the community. I always strived to impress on folks the importance of giving generously to our annual campaign challenge even though we couldn't see where our monies went. Face it, those monies landed in places we didn't necessarily want to go anyway. Our donations helped folks so far away and removed from out daily existence that we either didn't want to see it or when we did, we tened to turn a blind eye to those problems. That was okay, that's why the money went out and went into the hands of people who were there, there on the ground, taking care of folks that we couldn't. Those agencies, those folks working with the great unwashed, yeah, their eyes were wide open, and the hands of people we were helping with our United Way donations were wide open, too. Everyone made out, well, as best they could under the circumstances.

Another thing we excelled in was food drives. Once or twice a year we had those big blue buckets in our lobbies to gather up non-perisables for the local food banks. In South Kitsap those cans and packages of this and that went to our local Helpline. Those Helpline folks see people these days that they probably never expected to see. Not only laborers and non-skilled and migrant workers but professionals, degreed people with no immediate prospects other than needing to pay the bills and put groceries on the table.

I always felt that it was important to give, to get that good karma out there, to put money and time and effort into the cause of taking care of people who are down and out, because, baby, you just never know you when you might be down and out, too. You just don't.

I put in an application to volunteer at Helpline the other day. For years I worked with various gleaner organizations in King, Snohomish and Pierce counties and know how to handle food distribution to the hungry. One great thing about those Gleaner groups is that if you work you get to bring home produce and bread and such for your table. I like to know that I am working for my supper, or breakfast, whatever. I never felt that getting was gratus. We worked hard for our stipend, even though we knew the best and the bulk of our work went out to the community. Everyone gained, everyone was happy, least ways, they were as happy as they could be under the circumstances.

My circumstances aren't as dire as they could be. I have a bit of money in the bank, my in-laws are generous to a fault with The Estranged One and my kids, and hopefully soon I will be seeing a return on my investment coming back to me from the state. But still, for a few weeks there I was running short, shorter than I have in my whole adult life. I was wondering if I would be signing up for the services that Helpline provides. I must admit, and for those of you who know me and have eaten well in my home, taking food without working for it, without paying for it, is a real bit of humbleness. I take advantage of their day old bread. I have taken home vegetables and fruit delivered by home gardeners. I have watched folks come and go, talked with volunteers and coordinators and folks on the dole, and know that no matter what, when this is all over, I will empty out my larder and pass it along to those who have helped me when the chips were down.

We have to always remember that you just never know when the world will pull that rug out from under your feet. Me? Well, I should have seen it coming. I loved out of turn and that was that. But still. Like with earthquake preparedness, set aside a bit of good karma for another day and give to the United Way and be sure, when you can, give generously to your local foodbank. You never know when it'll be your turn to have a hand out.

Salud!