Chillin' at Children's The Franklin Regional Tragedy Spawns A Selfie

Dear Nate,

   I am the father of school age child.  Not a moment goes by that I don’t worry about her.  Will she behave in class?  Will she do well?  Will she make new friends?  Will she get an A on her spelling test?  Will she grow up to be smarter than me? Will she get into college?  Will she get a great job?  Will she invent something or discover something that will solve world problems?  Will she make it home safely today?

   You see, what you did today was very, very brave.  It was a selfless act.  Something simple.  Something we would usually punish a student for in my day; pulling a fire alarm to get out class.   But you did it to warn others.  You acted in a way that probably saved countless lives, just like my little girl.  I can only imagine what your mindset was when it happened and then, to have been attacked by the person who caused this chain reaction of events that have reached CNN and the world, you are now a hero.   You are a part of the tapestry of parental nightmares that have plagued all of us since Columbine happened fifteen years ago this coming April 20^th.   Southwestern PA now joins a host of other schools and communities that have become statistics of classroom violence.  All of us more worried each day that somehow that evil will find its way into our children’s schools. 

   But, you were there and you did what you did and now, by virtue of being born towards the beginning of the Gilded Age of Social Media, you are part of the historical tableaux of memories, like the students dangling out of the window of a Virginia Tech classroom.  Your face and your act will be remembered.  You are a hero.

   You deserve this moment for being the one to “Roll into action”.  You and all the others who helped stop the threat before more could be injured, including yourself, deserve so much praise and thanks.  For that, this is your time to shine.  Your Facebook wall is probably flooded right now with well wishes and bro fists and probably dating offers.  Your profile picture will probably your Children’s Hospital pic for a day or two… There’s already a community page on Facebook, which is probably not related to you in any way.  You’re going to have interviews with local media and probably National Media.  It’s not unfathomable to see you ending up on the couch of Fallon or Letterman… because the media loves a hero so much in the face of tragedy.

   It is also your time to reflect.  A lot of criticism is going to come your way, from myself included, simply because you exist in that “Gilded Age”.   The selfie seen round the Commonwealth already has a Twitter following and a People.com article.  Again, I thank you for what you did, but remember with great power comes greater responsibility… and clichés.  Don’t think for one moment that you aren’t a hero, but also not above reproach in the eyes of those who made you famous for what you did.  You are a hero, but you’re also a teenager, and I get that.  Taking the selfie “Chillin’ at Children’s” is the tip of a proverbial iceberg of contextual misconception.   In one light, it’s a kid being a kid, taking a moment to show the face of a tragedy.  But in another, it’s a kid being dumb and disrespectful while his classmates are in critical condition from their wounds.  The choice of how you choose to identify yourself in that moment is your own.

   Humility is a powerful balance and can never be abused.  Remember this as you take those first steps towards no longer being anonymous outside of Allegheny County.  Remember this when your attackers are armed with a Social Media account and not a knife.   Remember this when it’s time to go back to being anonymous.  Remember this when it’s time to step up as a man in your 20s and 30s and 40s.   Be the man who pulled the fire alarm every day of your adult life.  Be the hero when your own child goes off to school and worry about them every day.  Be the humble American who does things not because of the photo op but because it’s the right thing to do.   You do all that, and you will be fine.

  Thank you and have a speedy recovery.

Reunions

For the first time, out of four missed opportunities, I went back to high school by attending my 20 year reunion.  In fact, this whole year has been a trip back to the days when I was young and stupid.  Now, I’m just older.  There’s a reason for all that, but that is not part of this story.  Let’s just say, I’ve been reborn in a manner of speaking.

But yeah, the past year has been rife with nostalgia and old feelings, some good, some bad.  Friendships rekindled.  Odds renewed.   And, in the end, the universe comes back to remind you of your place in the social cosmos of the high school hierarchy.    20 years later, you still can’t crash the cool kids party and get away without being pounded with the reminder that you are still the same guy you were back then, just older and a little bigger than you were.

Now, I didn’t mind high school.  In fact, it was probably some of the greatest times I had.  Then again, it’s possible I blocked out a lot of the bad stuff.  The awkwardness gets pushed back into the recesses of the mind while the heyday of riding around in cars with no particular place to go, being irresponsible, and being young and giddy over the feelings that inhabit your still fresh heart and mind.  You’ve got the whole world ahead of you and tomorrow is so far off in the distance.

Then, 20 years go by.  Suddenly, the panic sets into your soul.   It’s been two decades and you have not accomplished one goal you set down on paper in that biography from the back of your yearbook.  You’re going to face down the ghosts of your past and they will see the failure in your life and they will suck the last remaining ounces of hope out of you.  

So, I kind of set another goal for this milestone.  Try to get back some of those 20 years, so I can walk tall into that reunion.   I’ve spent the last 10 months working on losing weight, getting back into some shape other than round, and rediscovering that piece of me that I lost a long, long time ago.  And, I did that.  Now, I will be the first to throw myself under the bus when it comes to looks or physical stature.  However, compared to what I looked like this past October, I say, with all seriousness that, “I looked damn good.” 

But, the universe will not let you change your stars and no matter how good I looked, I knew that I was just going to be “That funny guy whose kid is hilarious on Facebook.”  The great guy with a heart of gold.   The one every parent loved but no daughter would ever consider.   I was me.    All that build up.  The prep.  The thinking that, “This time, it’s different” meant nothing, because as soon as I walked in that door, I was back in high school.  Awkward.  Backwards.  I was me.

I ended up leaving early, rather than just hang about in the back, being an observer. And, from what I gathered from the pictures that actually made it onto Facebook, the party only got better after I left.  Not saying because…  Just saying it did.  The whole night was a disaster for me.  My brand new suit was like a heater and even after changing into shorts and a t-shirt to be more comfortable, I could never get comfortable.  I wanted to leave.

Why?  Because, what I failed to remember, from 20 years ago, was that I did everything I could to get away from that place.  Yeah, I hung around a few times, post graduation, because I still had friends there, but that school, that town, that life was not what I wanted.  I left for college and went as far as I could.  I landed in Myrtle Beach, some 600 miles away, and even though I transferred back to Pitt, a mere six months later, I stayed away as much as possible.   After college, I moved closer to Pittsburgh, adding to the distance.  But, after all that time, the draw of certain elements in that town made me think what I wanted was to be back in that world.  I was wrong.

My only fun came from an impromptu dance with one of the older ladies of the wait staff and joking with the bartender.  That’s who I am.  I go to a reunion to see people I graduated with 20 years prior and I have more fun with people I barely know and just met.  

Which reminds me.  Last Saturday was a reunion of another sort.  It was a reunion between two people who haven’t been together in close to 60 years.   Early on, while making various attempts to flee to the parking lot to gain some composure, I noticed this older couple walking through the halls.  I smiled at them holding hands but paid them little mind.   When I came back, the dinner was over and the DJ was trying to ramp up the energy and get people moving.     Out of boredom, I went and moved the car closer to the building in order to hasten my escape.  When I came back this second time, there was a burst of energy coming from the ballroom.   What the hell was going on in there?

When I walked in, I noticed everyone on the dance floor sort of circling around, clapping and whooping it up.  As I got a better look, I recognized that older couple I noticed in the hallway absolutely tearing up the dance floor.   I couldn’t believe it.  We had been crashed by a couple from another party.  It was amazing.   They danced with each other and the guy shamelessly chased around women more than half his age and they ate it up.  One of my classmates was dressed in a leopard print outfit and this older gentleman looked like he was on safari, ready to bag big game.

I was speechless.   This guy.  This beautiful human being, unabashedly and successfully stole all the thunder from everyone.  I loved him for it.  I admired him for it.  He did what I so wanted to do and he was ten times better at it then I ever could have been.  I had to know what was up.

During a marathon dance session I spied his date, having a rest, and I took the opportunity to find out what their story was.   Because, you know, that’s what I do.  I ignore all the people I graduated with and seek out a complete stranger to engage.    Also, I love a good story and this one had to be a good one, right?  Turns out, they were at his class reunion from 1951.  I guess as you get older, you tend to forgo the “every five years” convention.  The gentleman was a retired urologist who, even at his age, still had the mojo.  But that wasn't even the best part of the story.  His date filled me in with the rest.

“We dated our freshman year of college.  Then we stopped.  He went off to war.  I stayed in school.”

“What happened?”  I asked. “Why did you guys split up?”

“I don’t know.  We were young.  Who knows?  The timing wasn’t right.”  

“But you’re together now?”

“Oh, yes, and it’s been wonderful.    But during the years we were apart, I lost two husbands and last year, he  lost his wife.   But somehow, someway, we found each other, again.”

I was in tears at this point.  “That is way beyond awesome.”
Then she asked me, “Why aren’t you out there?”

“Me?  Oh hell, no.”

“You can’t dance?”

“I wouldn’t say that.  It’s a long story.  I just don’t have that spark.  Not like your guy out there.”

“You know he’s 87 years old and he just loves doing stuff like this.  He loves being out there with those young girls.”

“I can tell. ”

“You should get out there, too."

“No.  Thanks.  Just no.”

Then she laid the wisdom on me.  “Do you know how to make it work?   You gotta have fun.  You gotta be able to get out there and just have fun.   And, you gotta whisper sweet nothings in her ear, all the time.  BELIEVE ME, IT WORKS!”

Waterworks in full effect. 

“Thanks.  I will remember that.”

A few more dances and they decided to go.   Even though they were on a date, they had separate rooms at the hotel.   Somehow, I think one was going to go unused.   

I finally got a chance to talk to the man of the hour and he and I had this special connection, somehow.  It was like I was staring into the future and I saw me.    And he kind of reassured me that, at 87, it doesn’t matter.  All the crap I went through to get to this point doesn’t matter.  That’s what tomorrow can be like.   He was my hero.    And then we shared that moment.  That look.  We both knew what his night had in store.  So, I told him,  “Pace yourself.  It’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon.”

He laughed with his entire being and said, “You got that right.   And I’ve finished every lap.”

Then, they were gone.  And so was I.  Bolted for the door before 11:30.  Spent the last two hours of my night watching the events unfold over Facebook.

It was a bittersweet moment.  I gained so much wisdom from those two beautiful souls.  I just hope he survived the night. 

I did.

 Party Crashers Saved My Soul

Dress To Suppress

At the age of 38, I have come to the conclusion that I have no one to impress on a daily basis.  Unless I am looking to advance in my career or I am mandated by certain mores such as company dress code or acceptable for the event, I will dress mostly for comfort.  Now, granted, being a t-shirt designer, after work and on the weekends I’m liable to be wearing a tee I love or designed, which has a message or is used for marketing purposes.  In any case, the my morning goes like this.

I get up, shower, and then put on clothes that satisfy the following criteria: did I wear that shirt last week, and is it comfortable for the weather  Beyond that, I don’t put a lot of thought into the manner or style of dress.   However, if you were to ask the me that was 25 years  my junior, you’d get a vastly different answer.    There was no comfort involved.  It was dress to suppress.

Now, what does that mean?

Well, in the case of eight to ten year old me, I wore a good deal of hand me downs.    Being the youngest of three, by seven years, I was subjected to wearing the clothes my brother had from a previous decade.   Factor in that my parents didn’t have a huge bank account, I wore the same clothes for multiple years while they fit.

But at some point, I wised up.  I went to my mother and thanked her for my impeccable fashion sense but asked if my older brother could take me clothes shopping before the first day of 7^th grade.   In my town, you had K-6 (Grade School) in one building, 7-9 (Junior High) in another, and then 10-12 (High School) in yet another.   You see, the division in schools also determine the threat level to one’s psyche from their classmates.  In grade school, you could get away with wearing sweat pants, a ¾ sleeve baseball tee, and Sears’ brand Velcro running shoes without drawing attention.  However, in sixth grade the natives begin to take notice and you prepare yourself for the inevitable catty comments about how you dress and how you look to your peers.   So, I decided to keep that from happening and turned in my running shoes for Nike high tops, just so I could keep up with the pack.   Then, in the summer before Junior High, I went on that all important clothes shopping trip to the mall with my older and infinitely cooler brother.  I came back with Ocean Pacific and Shah Safari shirts, Bugle Boys and Dockers pants, a pair of Chuck Taylors and assorted shirts from 80s mega trendy stores like Chess King and Just Pants (I’m kidding).

That first day of school was all about blending in and not sticking out.  It wasn’t about the clothes drawing attention.   It was about disguising myself to look like the enemy.  That way I could infiltrate their ranks and they could see me, not what I wore.   In those days, if your parents got your clothes at stores like Gabriel Bros. or Montgomery Ward, you were an easy target.  The cool people could zone in on you like a geek seeking missile, claws bared, ready to attack your fashion.  It was survival of the fittest.

By when you reach High School, the claws retract somewhat.   The rules are more relaxed.  In Junior High, the bodies and minds of teenagers go completely nuts.  All the instability of hormones and growing fight your ability to be comfortable in your own skin, so you lash out at others as a way to justify your own metamorphoses from ugly caterpillar to butterfly.   In High School, you stop focusing on how to take others out of the race and work to getting to the finish line first with flare.  It’s called preparation for college.  Soon, you start to compare acceptance letters to schools like you did with shoes or earrings, years before.  It’s not about how you dress, it’s about how you will succeed in your post High School career.  Still, I did do my best to keep up and went the route of the Boyz II Men, Olive Garden waiter route with jeans, white button down shirts, and ties.  Some days loafers, some days sneakers.     But I never got called out by the worst offenders from Junior High when it came to my clothes.   I mean I caught a glimpse of it in sixth grade with my clothing.  In Junior High, there was that one disastrous pair of blood Red Pro Keds high tops that nearly destroyed me.  Luckily, the poorest of the poor kids had on Moon Boots and the geek seeking missiles locked onto him instead.

Funny how, when you get to college, all of that goes out the window and you end up wearing pajamas to class or sweats with a ball cap, and you’re just fine.  Sometimes you wonder if uniforms in the education system help to tone down bullying or other harassment of not so cool kids in those years.    My argument for that is to a kid going through all the agony of adolescence, their clothes should be a coat of arms for their individuality.  I wouldn’t bow to inappropriate or obscene clothing, but as a form of expression and a way to help that transition, clothes do make the man they will become.  Why suppress that?

WUMF: August 2013 Edition

Wow, another WUMF out on time… watch out, we got a badass over here.

Obligatory YouTube Update  

Winding down the first season of Mongo Smashes Minecraft is hard.  The series is sort of driven by the achievement board and I’m having issues getting a few as well as just having time to play.  With my kid back in school, it will be easier, but I’ve just been too tired to be “on” when I go to record.  Over the summer I started a new series, “Skyblock” which was a survival challenge.   The last few episodes are sort of down in energy as I’m just going through the motions to finish it.   A highlight has been taking on Sims 3 from a more observant view.   Two episodes in and I think it’s some of my better work which makes up for the dreaded SimCity debacle.  Still, I am not doing enough, but that’s another story.

Summer?

So, the commercial end of summer is upon us.  For those of us in the SWPA it doesn’t seem like we had a summer, really.   There were days I would get out to the car at 5:50AM and I could see my breath.  That’s nothing compared to mention of the rain we had.   Looks like we’ll probably have 80 degrees temperatures around Thanksgiving.

Pttsburgh Sports

The Pirates are five games away from breaking the curse of Barry Bonds.  FIVE GAMES to beat .500.  Now, for some that is a landmark achievement.  For basically every other team out there, that’s average.  I cannot fathom why we are content with mediocrity.  Some will say, “Don’t rush it.  It’s a start.”  No, that start began three years ago and each year they sniffed .500 until somewhere in the middle of the season they choked.  Also, that slow rebuilding phase should have began ten years ago and it didn’t.   Sorry, but I have refused to get on the bandwagon, and it probably was for the best as this year they are set to finally have a winning season.  Once again, though, I ask, “How can a team that had a four game lead on The St. Louis Cardinals be happy with .500?”  This should be a pennant race season.

The Steelers on the other hand had a lot of promise.  And half their players are now on IR, DL, PUP, or other teams’ roster lists.  They just closed out preseason with 0-4 and after last year’s 8-8 I don’t give them much chance of making it to the AFC Championship.   At least their schedule is a little better, this year.  When I saw most of the division games in the last part of the year I was worried.    I was right to be worried.

Speaking of 20 years

At the end of next month, my high school’s 20 year reunion is taking place.  I haven’t been to one yet, so why not keep the streak alive.   It’s funny but when you get caught up in all the nostalgia and current drama with your classmates from way back when, you find yourself stuck back in that world, all over again.  While I had a blast in 1993, these days it’s no so fun to relive what it was like for me then.   You never really do leave high school.  You just keep getting sucked back into the same old shit you were subjected to then.

How About This?

Parents who have even normal, everyday children will undeniably curse their offspring with the following hex, “I hope when you have kids, they grow up to be just like you!”

My parents never put this juju on me. For that, I thought I was a pretty upstanding child. I rarely got into trouble, and when I say that I mean I rarely took the blame. My one friend bore the brunt of explaining why we emptied out his parents’ garage with the grand idea that we were going to build a tree house with no prior architectural expertise or clearance to use sharp tools.  His Dad came home from work to find the yard littered with boards of varying sizes and shapes along with tools.   My friend had to clean it all up.  Me, I went home for dinner.

But I am here to tell you that regardless of how well you behaved as a little tyke, the curse is passed down whether your parents wish it or not. Take my kid, please. Kidding. But let’s take her, for example.

About two weeks ago she began asking for everything under the sun that she saw on television. My automatic and unwavering response to this was, “We’ll see.”  That usually stops the conversation right there. It’s like “We’ll see” is some magical phrase that pacifies the unending need to have whatever it is that she sees on that screen. Again and again she sees something else on TV that she wants and asks, to which I say, “We’ll see.”   She goes about her business and I go back to farming on my computer.  

And it’s not like it always about a toy. She saw some commercial for some kind of baking tool that makes cupcakes in the shape of lollipops that you can then put on a stick and decorate. Immediately, she bounded across the room and said, “Daddy, Daddy, I want that!”

“We’ll see.”

And it’s not like it’s always about what is on television.

This past week she’s been going on and on about wanting to go to Kennywood. For those of you not familiar with Pittsburgh, it’s our Disney World. It’s like Yinzer World. Since I wrenched my back a week ago, I haven’t able to move very fast, not like I ever did, but riding the Thunderbolt in my condition could have me in traction.

So, when she started asking about going to Kennywood, I said, “We’ll see.” I expected silence after this, but she came back with something.  Something that sent a shiver up my spine.

“How about this?” I stopped in my tracks as she said this. “If I’m a good girl, can I go to Kennywood?”

I was floored. My kid just tried to negotiate with me. As soon as those three words came out of her mouth I was transported through my entire life, all the way through high school. I was a negotiator.  I never remembered it, though, but it was true. My parents would tell me “Maybe” or “We’ll see” and I immediately shot back with, “How about this…” and then laid out my terms.

In high school, our senior class got to pick the song we would have played during the senior night halftime show for marching band. This was the song that the band would play while we walked up the field with our parents. There was an insane debate over two songs. Half of the seniors, me included, wanted, “You Could Be Mine” by Guns and Roses. The other half wanted, “It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye (To Yesterday)” by Boyz II Men. Remember, this was 1993 and we were still in the heyday of the Alex Vanderpool era.  It came down to a tie vote and the only person who had not voted was one of the drummers, who was one of the biggest proponents to disregarding authority. We thought we had it locked up. He surprised all of us by siding with the Boyz II Men voters. Not taking defeat likely, I went to our band director with the news. Then, I said, with sudden utter brilliance, “How about this?”

His eyebrows cocked to one side, “Go on.”

I spun this golden thread of bullshit about how we have to get onto the field before we do the senior night formation. Why not use that opportunity to show some flare and excitement. Then we bring it down for the actual calling out of names. He stroked his chin and nodded his head. “Fine.”

I had turned a loss into a tie and satisfied everyone’s wishes. We played both.

Snapping back to reality, I noticed my four year old standing there, wondering where I had gone. “I tell you what? You be a good girl and we’ll definitely put it on the list of things to do.”

Sensing that she had indeed met her equal, she said, “OK. If I’m a good girl, we’ll go soon.” And with that, she went on to bigger and better things involving her dinosaurs, a chair and the cat tree. I had dodged a huge bullet. I could tell that she knew I was against the ropes due to her sneak attack. I should think about sending her to Washington DC to settle the debt crisis. They wouldn’t stand a chance and we’d all be able to sleep at night thinking about our 401ks.

Till then, I am so screwed and it won’t be the government that has drained my savings. It will be my little negotiator with her insatiable need for all things  As Seen on TV.

Stix Nix Dix Pix

Sometimes you just have to get a grip. You can’t let these things dangle out there like low hanging fruit. You have get a firm hold on the issue. Enough imagery? Thought so.

It was reported that the Central Blood Bank was going to show a presentation to students at Norwin High School, which is about five minutes from where I live. Instead, for about 30 seconds, the students got a different kind of education. The representative from the blood bank used a flash drive [snicker: flash] to show the presentation and during those 30 seconds there were several pictures of nude males and their dangly bits. Now, the parents want to sue the Central Blood Bank for emotional damage.

Sue? Ok, let’s, for a minute, err on the side of caution and say this was damaging. I don’t want to imagine the scenario but it could go something like this.

CBB Representative reaches into his pants and says, “Excuse me while I whip this out.” The kids all gasp in horror as he produces a flash drive. Sighs are heard.

I mean, honestly, does anyone believe this was more than just a horrible mistake on the part of the CBB rep? He didn’t set out to intentional scar someone for life. He either grabbed the wrong flash drive or was dumb enough to have stored nude pictures on his work drive. Of course, he was suspended and of course an apology is merited but legal action?

Oh, and the best part? The lawyer representing the students and their parents is named Peter Payne. I will pause as you compose yourself after that remark.

Let’s face it, had this been a guy, or even a girl, and the pictures were of females, there would be no thought of legal action. Ok, maybe there would be because we’re a sue happy society but to say that there was scarring and emotional damage. The only one emotionally scarred in all of this was the guy who showed the world a few of his favorite things. The students were probably just taken aback by the sights. I imagine it’s like arc welding. They tell you not to look at the bright light without protective goggles but you end up glancing up every now and then just because. And to think that high school kids have not seen this type of stuff is insane. Teenage sex and sexting is rampant within schools, nowadays. I bet the parents would be more shocked to know what their kids have seen without the visual aids provided by a representative of the Central Blood Bank.

This all smells like college tuition funding. And what do the parents really hope to gain by suing a non-profit organization that is supposed to help people in need. If those parents sue and win, the next time there is a crisis or disaster and the C.B.C. is looking for donations, I’d hit these parents up. Well, we’d like to save these people but we recently lost a lot of funding due to some asshats suing us for pictures their kids had probably already seen on the Internet prior to the little incident in class.

Actually, I’m thinking of using this to my advantage. The CBB calls me nonstop, I mean like everyday wanting us to donate blood. “I’m not done using it yet!” Actually, I don’t know if they really want mine, it’s probably more like syrup. In any case, they next time they call I want to answer the phone and say, “You want me to donate blood? Well, maybe. You’re not going to show me penises while I’m there, are you?” I just want to hear the reaction on the other end of the line.

Born Too Soon

One of my favorite bands is a hometown act called The Clarks.   Their lead singer, Scott Blasey, played a small acoustic set in my hometown a couple weeks back and I was able to introduce my little one to one of the few “good” musicians actively producing music today.  But I digress.  He also  released a solo album a few years ago with a song on it called “Born Too Late.”     In it, he asks various historical figures to mentor, or show him, in their respective areas of expertise on how to do things.    Sample lyrics include: ‘Vincent will you teach me how to paint.  Theresa will I ever be a saint.’   Get it?  Good.  Moving on.

I am not one of those people.  I have the firm belief, and have stated ad nauseum  that I was born too soon.   I concede that 1975 wasn’t exactly the dark ages but in terms of being the geek or tech nerd I am, Pong wasn’t exactly the Large Hadron Collider of its day.  So, from day one, I have always been one step behind technology or other advances that were beneficial to our lives when it applied to my age group. 

First there was Power Wheels.   In the evolutionary scale of childhood transportation I went from crawl to walk to big wheel to huffy to ten speed.   Anyone born after 1980 had the opportunity to firmly place Power Wheels in between The Big Wheel and your everyday Huffy bike.    Think of it, a motorized mini car that you could ride around your yard.    I was so pissed when they became available because I was already too big to have one.  As I hoofed it around the neighborhood on my Huffy I would see younger kids riding around their yard in their Power Wheels, faces aglow. 

That was also the year that our school district decided to skip my grade when it came to having early swimming education.   Until that point, that grade level of elementary school had a few swimming lessons at our high school and for some reason, they skipped my year.  I believe that further doomed me.  When I did reach high school and had to take swimming as a part of my sophomore year I did not have the proper swimming foundation and ended up drifting towards the left when trying to complete a lap, which led to me being given the nickname “Scud”  as in not very accurate in trajectory.   Once I ended up going in an arc to the side wall instead of straight ahead.  I emerged from the water thinking I had beaten everyone else only to see them to my right pointing and laughing.  But I took it in stride.  

By my senior year of high school I was recognizable to everyone, not because I was extremely popular but because everyone knew that I was the guy behind the video camera that hung around the halls.  I was in a class that made videos for our morning news announcements.  We actually put together a news broadcast with editing equipment, mixers, used computers for titles.  We were pretty industrious and managed to produce a lot out of nothing.  I was proud of our work and felt like we made an impact on the morale. 

The year after I graduated, the school sprung for the technology to do basic green screen effects.  There were so many ideas I had that could have involved having green screen tech at my fingertips.   OK, some were purely for the sake of humor but still, the application would have yielded awesome results.

Moving on to college.  In my sophomore year, I became fascinated with this Internet thingy and learned how to make web pages in the computer labs of the University of Pittsburgh.  I did this while never being taught how to program, in the classroom.   I did it on my own time at 2:00AM instead of being at the bars.  *cough* dork *cough*  I even got to design the University’s Transportation Department webpage as part of a project for the only class I ever attended that dealt with web design and it was taught by the English department and I pretty much knew more than they did, at that point.   When I graduated, java script became the newest feature for web design and soon classes were being taught everywhere.  I had already graduated and had lost the ambition to go back to school as I joined the work force.

As I hurtle towards middle age I see the toys and gadgets that come out for the younger generation and I want to weep.   Yes, I am a gamer with a PS3 and Wii, but I have no time to really play all that much.  Ok, I do play a little bit every day or so.   I’m not like some kids who spend an entire weekend leveling up and playing hours upon hours of Dorkcraft.  So, it breaks my heart that there are so many awesome games out there that I don’t have time to play. If I was still in college, I would love it.  I’d be flunking out, but I’d love it.  Then there’s the Internet sites like Facebook.  I admit that I am a bit of a dork and play games like Farmville and Mafia Wars but I don’t obsess about harvesting crops or taking out rival families enough to empty my bank account just to buy a friggin puppy for my farm or a kick ass weapon to lay waste to anyone who tries to rob my mega casino.   Yes, I do realize I understand what I just said.  [changes subject with “look over there”] What else is there?

There’s iPods, iPhones, iPads and iWanttocry because I just don’t have the time to get into the technology.  Granted, those are not specifically geared towards the younger generation but if I were not a part of the work force full time, I could have devoted my studies to becoming an expert at these things in order to work in a field that is relevant to their use.  I’d be the ubergeek extraordinaire when it comes to all things tech.

Perhaps with the technology at my beck and call I could come up with better applications for these devices so that we are not just wasting our time with silly little apps.  But alas, I was born too soon.  I can only speculate and grumble and tell kids to keep their smart phones out of my yard or I’ll keep them.  Not because I’m a mere mean old Grumpy Gus, but because I want to play with them, too.   Screw you Power Wheels.  You ruined my life.

 

Being Cool

So, what is cool? Seriously, what is the definition of cool these days? As I have slipped further into my 30’s I’m sure I have fallen way off the cool radar. My wife seems to think I may have never been on it. I think I have cool tastes. I like cool things. Does that inherently make me cool? Probably not. But that still doesn’t answer the question.

Growing up I knew I wasn’t cool. No matter how hard I tried to think I could ever be, I knew I wasn’t. In sixth grade, I ditched the Sears brand shoes with the Velcro laces and started wearing Nike high tops. Now, I have no proof of this, but there was a trend in the late 80s where you never tied your high tops. I think I started that. I say that because I never saw anyone do it, previously. I was really just lazy, not cool or trendy. In Junior High, I ditched the hand me downs for Bugle Boys and Ocean Pacific labels but I still did that pegged thing with my pants which negated the whole cool factor if I had one. By high school I had gotten rid of my Coke bottle glasses and braces and started paying attention to how I looked. I began wearing button down shirts, that weren’t tucked in, and I did the whole jeans with a white shirt and flashy tie as if I was working at the Olive Garden or an alternate for Boyz II Men. After all, it was the Alex Vanderpool era, am I right? But then there was the awful phase of cardigans and turtle necks along with the gold chain. That was the dreaded Cosby Sweater era. Seriously, I looked as if I was dressed like Seth Rogen in Observe and Report, only 20 years early.

Now, as an adult I look back on the kids growing up today and I see my worst fears being realized. I am turning out to be one of those adults that doesn’t “Get it.” I am that grumpy middle aged man who thinks the music sucks, the movies suck, and the clothes suck. This was something I promised myself I would never become, but perhaps, it was inevitable. Maybe we can’t stop the natural progression into becoming cantankerous. As cool as we think we are, we are not cool to those that come after us. Coolness is an idea that does not transcend into younger generations without changing its parameters.

But my opinion is just that and I guess I am a hypocrite in some ways because I find certain things cool and not others in the same grouping. I am a bit of a music snob when it comes to what I feel is good and bad. I cannot stand popular music today. It all sounds like the same crap. Frankly, most of the people I find cool are not making music anymore. There are some exceptions. I won’t list them because it’s a bit much. However, I say I might be a hypocrite because I like a lot of different music but I don’t buy into the artist’s complete catalog. I find what I like, usually download or copy a few songs and then disregard the rest. I didn’t go buy the complete discography of Jay-Z just because I liked "Encore" mashed up with Linkin Park’s "Numb. "

Now, when I look at kids today wearing Led Zeppelin or Pink Floyd shirts I have to wonder, “Are they a huge fan of those groups or do they merely think being a fan of them gives them coolness?” Here’s a little test Ask your average 13 to 15 year old if they like Led Zeppelin. If they say yes, ask them if they like the songs "Misty Mountain Hop" and "Ramble On." If they again say “Yes,” then ask them if they think J.R.R. Tolkien is cool. If they say, ”No” or have no idea who that is, then I suggest you smack them. Then tell them to relinquish all their downloaded Led Zeppelin songs from iTunes and the Internet and tell them to go listen to All American Rejects or Fall Out Boy. Oh, and then ask them where Fall Out Boy got their name from and if they can’t answer that correctly, tell them to give up all together and listen to the Jonas Brothers, instead.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I said myself that I like only certain songs from an artist and don’t buy into the whole background and complete discography, but then again, I listen to them and enjoy them. I don’t go out and buy a brand new shirt for the band or go to a so-called “Thrift” or “Vintage” store and buy a shirt of the band that is made to look like it is old. Of course, if those same kids come to my shop and buy a faux vintage shirt based on a pop culture idea from before they were born, is different. They are giving me money for it. That’s cool. *snort* Hell, in 1984 I was wearing my brother's Hall & Oates: H2O concert tour shirt and I was in fourth grade. How uncool was that?

So, do we have a better definition of cool, yet? No. Maybe it’s not up to us. Perhaps it’s the observer who needs to determine what is cool. Maybe those kids with the Led Zeppelin shirts are cool because their friends perceive them as such. Maybe there shouldn’t be a standard for what is cool. I don’t think you can make “cool” happen. Being cool is a state of mind. If you think you are cool, then you probably aren’t.

Here is a short list of what I think is cool. Again, you may disagree. Your determination on what is “cool” will be different.

My daughter… Even though she can be a hand full, at times, I think she’s cool. She says the funniest things. My dad said something about a “dumbass” the other day and this two year old kid said, “That’s not nice to say. Ladies don’t say that.” This, of course, is because my wife and I have been trying to reinforce to her that when she called me a dumbass one night, while it was hysterical, it was not a good thing. She is starting to get better, but still thinks it is funny to say Douchebag. We’re still working on that one.

Robot Chicken… Actually, I used to think it was really cool. It’s still an awesome show but they are starting to run out of cool ideas. I am a big fan of Family Guy, too. While it is a little formulaic and referential to pop culture in an effort to try and be cool, some of the stuff they have been able to reference is awesome. For example: In the 100th episode entitled “Movin' Out (Brian's Song)" Stewie attempts to cheer Brian up by presenting him with two different robots. Just showing the robots would have been cool enough but the fact that he has to reference them being the robots from SpaceCamp and Rocky IV totally negates the coolness.

Patrick Swayze… he’s cool. I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. He got picked on a lot as a kid because he was a dancer. That was until one kid pushed him too far and took a swing at him. That kid ended up in the hospital. “I want you to be nice until it’s time to not be nice.” That is cool. His career didn’t hold up well into the new millennium but his overall body of work including Red Dawn, Dirty Dancing, Road House, North and South, The Outsiders, and Ghost is cool. He fought Pancreatic cancer and lived longer than predicted. Like Randy Pausch, that makes him really cool.

Stephen King… King will always be cool because he doesn’t give a crap what you think and he doesn’t pander to the pop culture masses, unlike other EW columnists who wrote one cool movie and is now ramming her pop culturisms down your throat. Go read King’s columns over at EW.com He extols the virtues of many different aspects of entertainment, whether it is music, movies, or books. Half of them I’ve never heard of before which is probably why they are cool.

The Office… The US Version... Sorry, as a purist I am trained to loathe American shows based on British ones but I've never really seen the original, yet. I am hoping to catch up on it, though. However, having missed the last couple of seasons of the American Office due to DVR overload on Thursday nights I’ve been forced to watch them in reruns or online and the show is still as funny as it is uncomfortable to watch. I say that with crumpled up lips and big eyes as I look into the camera.

J.S. … I won’t spell this one out in order to protect his identity. He’s a former piano student of my wife. Besides being cool, he’s hysterical. Some of the stuff he’s pulled throughout his 18 years on this Earth is nuts. To give you an idea of how extremely funny and borderline obscene he is, chew on this. One Halloween, he went and bought a kid’s costume that was way too small for him. I’m talking midriff and knees showing among other things. When asked what he was supposed to be, his answer was simple. A Pedophile. I’m sorry but that was funny. Wrong, but funny. I hope he can make the transition to college and just remember the following. Agility is crucial. Being able to not let the system get you down is a huge key to success.

My friend Jer... Once again, full name not given. He and I have been friends for the last 13 years. We worked together during the summers at Cedar Point. He was also in my wedding. Quite frankly he’s hysterical. It’s a different kind of funny, though. We both loved Chappelle’s Show and classic 80s movies. In fact, he’s given me a few very good ideas for the shop and some are actually selling. I might have to figure out a way to cut him in on the profits.

My Mother In Law… Besides being a gadget head and lover of cool toys, she’s been kicking cancer in the ass for the past 12 years. She was diagnosed as Stage IV Renal Cell Cancer in 96. She had a football sized tumor, a kidney, and an ovary removed in 1997, her spleen and part of her pancreas in 2006 along with another tumor, and in 2009 add a brain tumor, a full hysterectomy to get another tumor and is now undergoing chemo. It has taken its toll, though. She has diabetes, hypertension, blood clots, OSA, and other normal maladies of a 65 year old woman, but she is still kicking it her way.

Hatchbacks… I bought a Malibu Maxx in 2005 and regardless of the usual GM issues I have with it, I cannot fault the car because the hatchback is the biggest pro on this vehicle. I love being able to fit a lot of things in this car and put the seats down for more storage space. I am one child shy of needing a minivan and that probably will be my replacement for the Maxx but that is a couple years away. However, I still have a Sunfire POS that I am going to have to replace in the next three to four months. I’ve bounced between the Chevy HHR, Kia Soul, Scion XB, and a couple of others yet I still see no clear front runner for the money. Yes, I could get a Chevy Aveo or Toyota Yaris cheaper but I want to be able to be safe in my car. I do a lot of driving in wooded areas and somehow I think if a deer challenges a Yaris or Aveo, I will lose. So, if there are any dealers or auto industry giants out there that follow the blog, make me an offer. I’d be willing to be an advocate for your car and your service if I like them. I ain’t cheap but I can be bought.

Johnny Cash… Hell yeah, he’s cool. Cash featured prominently in my upbringing and I used to play guitar with a group of older guys, including my Father in Law, and we would do some of his standards like “Walk the Line” and “Boy Named Sue.” So, I think I get to take a pass on the finding him cool though he’s from a previous generation. And it’s not even that he was strictly a big influence on music or Nashville as a singer and songwriter and then ended back in the 60s. He was able to update himself in such a cool way, sticking to his guns and his black threads. Go back and listen to his collaboration with U2 on “The Wanderer.” Go listen to his cover of “Hurt.” Go listen to “The Man Comes Around.” Actually, go back and listen to all of the American Series. Now that is cool.

That’s all I got. I had planned on going through my list of things I find “not cool” but felt it was a bit preachy and anyone who knows the blog, knows what I find “not cool.” In fact, the last few weeks have been filled with events that I consider “not cool.”