TV shows and movies

Every once in a while I come across a movie or TV series that catches my attention and won't let go. By this I mean, and through the years, shows like Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, The Brady Bunch, Three's Company, Happy Days, MASH, Friends, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Two and a Half Men, and my current fixation: The Big Bang Theory. Movies that have captured my attention were Dances With Wolves, Sister Act, Forrest Gump, That Thing You Do, Apollo 13, and my current fixation: Easy A.

Let's break it down:

As far as the TV shows go, let's start from the beginning with those lovable 60s shows Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie. Having grown up a child of the 60s I watched the original airings, not reruns. These two shows were based on fantasy: Bewitched was about a pretty, blonde witch married to an advertising exec who just wanted to fit in and live her dull and boring life in Suburbia. Obviously things never quite worked out that way, especially when her family got involved, and by family I mean her mother, Endorra, who made life difficult for her husband, Darren, who she always called Durwood.

The premise behind I Dream of Jeannie was about a Mercury astronaut who splashes back down to earth slightly off course and his capsule ends up washed ashore on an uninhabited island where he stumbles upon a magic lamp with, guess what, a pretty blonde genie as its occupant (you've probably picked up my attraction to blondes by now).

Then came The Brady Bunch, loosely based on the movie Yours, Mine and Ours, with Henry Fonda and Lucille Ball - about a recent widower and his three young sons, and a recently widowed young woman and her three young daughters. We all had our favorite characters we cheered on. Everybody had a thing for Marcia, the eldest daughter, or Cindy, the baby, probably because of her pigtails. I had a thing for Jan, the often-ignored middle daughter. I thought she was prettier, and certainly smarter than Marcia. But that's just me. The show went downhill once the kids were all grown up and they introduced "Cousin Oliver," a concept I'll come back to in a little bit.

Three's Company, Happy Days and MASH were all bunched together in the 70s. I liked them all. However, I only acknowledge the first three seasons of MASH, what I refer to as "the Henry Blake era." After Henry Blake/McLean Stevenson left, Alan Alda pretty much took over and the show became "preachy." I still watched it religiously up to the very end, hoping it would get funny again. It never did - just made you think. You can see a trend here; respectively they all went downhill after Suzanne Sommers left, Ron Howard started losing his hair and started looking like, oddly enough, Ron Howard; and I've already given my analysis of MASH.

The 80s had some good shows, too: Family Ties, The Cosby Show, Married With Children. A common thread they shared was their introduction of "Cousin Oliver" towards the end of their cycle. As the kids grew older, ratings dropped and the producers introduced a young member to the household. Which pretty much led to their demise. Thus, what I call the "Cousin Oliver" concept.

A clean, and breath-of-fresh-air came during the 90s in Friends, about three guys and three gals who share a tightly-knit bond while living and working in New York City. The second season defined the show: Ross and Rachel were together (finally!); Monica was dating the (much older) optometrist, Dr. Burke; Joey was "Dr. Drake Remoray," Chandler was a successful executive with his own office in a high-rise; and Phoebe was, well, Phoebe. I've always wondered how she could earn a living as a masseuse during the day, and part-time singer at night at the coffeehouse, Central Perk, where they all hung out. She lived alone in a nice apartment. The show went downhill after Ross and Rachel's breakup and the other characters took on different jobs and/or relationships. I enjoyed Friends. I didn’t think it could ever be equaled again until the 2000s with How I Met Your Mother.

The dynamics of How I Met Your Mother were different/similar to Friends: three guys and two gals: Lily and Marshall are married to each other, Ted is an architect and love-sick guy, Robin is Canadian (need we say more?) and Barney, the incorrigible fifth-wheel. They all live in New York City but instead of hanging out at a coffeehouse they hang out at a bar, MacLaren's. I watch the show occasionally, preferring the reruns on late-night TV as opposed to the prime-time showings. It’s still an evolving show and so far I like it.

Looking back I've noticed I've rambled on quite a bit. I'll finish the TV segment with Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Two and a Half Men, and The Big Bang Theory another time, with some assorted shows tossed in, and then we'll tackle the movies after that. Gives me an excuse to write about something. Until then.

Say what?

I'm always amazed at the resiliency of the English language, nay - its adaptability. Throughout generations, while speaking the same English language as a foundation, American society has molded and shaped it to conform to ever-changing social mores. Take World War I for instance (amazing how we put numerals after our global conflicts, like the Super Bowl or something - but that's another story). Soldiers coming back from the front were afflicted with "Shell Shock." I think that's pretty self-explanatory: being subjected to constant bombardment and the fear of losing one's life would certainly "shock" the life out of any human being. Then during World War II it evolved to "Battle Fatigue." Okay, it still makes sense: being subjected to constant bombardment and the fear of losing one's life would certainly cause fatigue and scare the life out of any human being. Fast forward to the Vietnam War - suddenly it was PTDSS, or "Post Traumatic Delayed Stress Syndrome." Sounds more like an illness or a disease, not a condition brought on by shells bursting and the likelihood of losing one's life.

Let's leave the war behind us and move on to the curious evolution of the English language. Maybe at this point I should refer to is as "vernacular." Back in the 60s everything was "cool" or "A-OK" (a reference to the emerging space program), or "dig it" (as in "I dig your shoes, man"), which was usually followed by "far out."

The 70s brought us slick disco and the base debauchery of Studio 54, "rock on," the "hustle" and "astro turf"." "Far out" was still being used and so was "cool."

Which brings us to the 80s. All that hair, metal bands, a conglomeration of "music videos," "new wave," and "punk rock" dictated how our music was played and enjoyed. "Smurf" was something small and blue, the "valley girls" brought us "gag me with a spoon," "spazz" and "like totally," while Reagan introduced us to "political correctness."

The 90s was somewhat "grungy," music was a little more "edgy," more "funk," disco was making a comeback but was (and still is) known as "clubbing."

The 21st century is upon us. It's fun watching the language evolve. It's brought us "desktop," "laptop" (computers, not tables or the place where the family cat likes to lay down on), "wireless" and "networking" (which is nothing more than human interaction). I'm still trying to digest "emo" and "trope." But by far my favorite so far is: "There's an app for that."

Like, totally...

Bomber's Rugby Football Club

We see them everyday on our travels; an adopt-a-mile cleanup sign erected along our country's roads and highways, emblazoned with a local organization's name, usually the local Girl or Boy Scouts, the electrician's union, Phi Beta Kappa, maybe even the Knights of Columbus - pledging to clean up the next mile or so of roadway. Over where we live there's one of these not-at-all-uncommon signs. However, the sponsor's name was certainly eye-catching: "Bomber's Rugby Football Club."

Being a fan of military aircraft, I immediately conjured scenes of brave men wearing their scuffed-up leather jackets with thick wool collars headed towards their bombers, tonight's target: "Top Secret!" My imagery was reminiscent of that scene from "The Right Stuff" where the seven Mercury astronauts walk down that long hallway, purposely and in slow motion.

The rest of that phrase still held a bit of a mystery: "Rugby Football Club." The words "rugby" and "football" in the same sentence gave it away. I Googled it. It turns out that here in St. Louis there is a rugby club called St. Louis Bombers Rugby Football Club:

"The Bombers were a result of a merger between “The Old Blacks” and the “Sisler-Hummel” rugby clubs, two of the most powerful and successful clubs in St. Louis during the 1940’s and 1950’s. Coached and captained by Frank Hauff from 1962-1965, the Bombers immediately took control of St. Louis rugby, winning the Missouri Rugby Union Championship in their first two years and five out of their first six. From 1964 to 1965 the Bombers were undefeated and shut out all league opponents."
- (http://stlouisbombers.insiteadvice.org/about-the-bombers/club-history/)

Knowing that fact took the mystique away from that road sign. Nevertheless, every time I drive by and see the sign I still see those brave lads in their bulky suits and leather jackets, patting the pinup nose art on the side of their aircraft for good luck as they clambered into their bombers to fight the evil Nazis…

Hey, it's my story. I think mine has more allure.

I'm back!!!

My apologies to my devoted fans for not having written in a while. I've been somewhat occupied job-hunting.

An interesting highlight from one of these interviews was for a bilingual (Spanish/English) tech support position at one of the major corporations based in O'Fallon. I was interviewed by two people, neither of which knew, or had any understanding of the Spanish language. And in the end they "decided to go with another candidate." I wonder what criteria they used to make that selection? Go figure.

Another major company that interviewed me (also based in O'Fallon) was for yet another bilingual Customer Support position. This time I was interviewed over the phone by two very distinctly Hispanic people. The interview started in English and ended in Spanish. In the end they, too, went with "another candidate." Apparently my Spanish wasn't good enough. Holy Cow already!

I'm seriously thinking of going back to school and getting my engineering degree in rocket science because apparently that's what it takes to get a job around here. Ironically enough, NASA just ended their manned space program with the space shuttle's last mission this month. Even if I had a degree in rocket science I'd still be amongst the ranks of the unemployed now that NASA engineers are getting laid off.

Since I figure to be idle (read "unemployed") for the foreseeable future I'll make it a point to post more regularly. Apparently I've received threats from my loyal fans for not blogging. I've had a few adventures since my last post and hope I can use those to amuse my readers. Hoping this one should keep them sated for now.

Until next time…

The Fan Bus, final chapter

December 16th, 2006. My wife's birthday. I promised her a Championship for her birthday present. It's all she asked for. Today's the day. After a hearty breakfast consisting of bacon and eggs at the local Huddle House, we're back on the bus. Emotions are running high. You could just take a bite out of it. Sister Suzanne leads us on a sing-along of the Saint Francis fight song:

Hail to Saint Francis;

Loudly we sing our praise;

Onward to victory,

our voices we raise.

Never vanquished, always proud

Of our blue and white;

Our team will win the fight,

We cheer with all our might. RAH! RAH! RAH!

After a brief drive we're in Savannah. We head off in different directions, take in the carnival atmosphere, watch the players warm up, settle in to watch the game.

And then it happened...

Gloom.

Not quite the outcome we had all hoped for. Heads hung low, hearts heavy with grief and frustration. The trip home would take longer to make. We're traveling the same distance, but the trip would take longer. We know it.

We didn't leave Savannah just yet. We had made arrangements to attend Mass at the local St. Mary's Catholic Church for those that wanted to, just down the road. I opted not to attend. My body was aching for sleep and none was to be had the night before. Closed my eyes and settled back in my seat. Next thing I know we're cutting my wife's birthday cake, on the hood of a Toyota, out in the church parking lot! One of our friends had deviously smuggled a cake for this occasion. Sister Elise was busy cutting slices while I was passing plates out to whoever wanted one. It was a treat. I wish we could have done more. Buddy check!

The trip back was a blur. It was night, it was dark, not much to see out the windows. My fellow passengers were quiet. Not much to say anyway. There might have been a movie popped in, "Elf," or was it "The Santa Clause?" Maybe both, I don't remember. I dozed off.

Brief stop at some unnamed place, for dinner. There were the usual haute cuisine to choose from: KFC, McDonald's, Wendy's. I don't even remember where we went or what I had. Burgers, I think. Buddy check! Last one. Next stop: home.

It was almost four in the morning when we pulled in the Doermer parking lot. People rubbed sleep from their eyes, gathered their belongings and slowly shuffled back to their cars. I took one last look at the bus as we pulled away. It looked lonely having just emptied its cargo. I remember how it creaked and groaned, but never wavered. It calmly took us to our destination and brought us safely back home. For several hours of that weekend it was our home. It was jubilant in taking us to Savannah, and quiet and respectful on our way back. It entertained us, never complained. There were times I couldn't wait to get off that bus. I even complained loudly how I didn't want to go through that again. That was shortly after the game. Now, with the passing of time I can't wait to go back. The Fan Bus. The irony. Jim Pictor would have loved it.

Epilog:

I heard of Jim Pictor's death shortly after boarding the bus. He passed away early that morning, losing his fight with cancer. The news hadn't been released to the Saint Francis community yet, but a friend had heard of it and knowing that I knew him, passed the information on to me. I was broken-hearted that whole trip. The main reason for the trip becoming insignificant thereafter.

I could never call him “Jim” to his face, even though he told me I should. To me he was always "Doc." I'm sure he cringed every time I called him that. I had the utmost respect and admiration for him. He was passionate in his lectures. He brought the British Romantic authors and Shakespeare to life. I recall his favorite phrase being "This just drips with irony!" I immediately knew I had to write about The Fan Bus, as a small tribute to Doc.

Not only a teacher, but I considered him a mentor and a friend. I will miss you, Jim "Doc" Pictor. But know that every piece I write, every book I read is because you lit a fire in this former student's life. For that I thank you. Peace.

How I started in IT, or, "you spilled what on your keyboard?"

I thought I'd take a break from the Fan Bus, finish that some other time…

One of the reasons, if not the primary reason, for my undertaking this blog is because I would like to be a professional writer. I need a medium to hone my skills. But then, what should I write about? I'm in the IT business, have been since 1996. Why not write about that? I have some doozies I could share with you that would curl your nose hairs, or just have you shake your head in disbelief. I'm talking about the users. Without them all those computers I've supported through the years would have sat there neglected, never having been infected with viruses, or have soda spilled on their keyboards, or… But I'm getting ahead of myself - let's get started.

My foray into the IT world (Information Technology, for those not familiar with the term, or, "Welcome to Geek world") - started somewhat gradually in the early 90's. At the time I was a graphic artist at a major, national advertising firm. I typeset ads on CompuGraphic equipment and the early Mac computers, Quadra models, no less. We had our own in-house tech support guy. We'll call him Ed Mulroney (not his real name). The best and only way to describe him is he was a pothead. He knew computers, knew his way around new and emerging technologies. Too bad I can't say the same about his work ethic, knowledge of office hours, or getting to work on time - if at all. This went on for a couple of years. He was absent so frequently that I developed an interest in computer technology that I started troubleshooting our electronic equipment. Since I did not have any formal training or education in computer technology, everything I learned was through trial and error - mostly error. I went out of my way to read up on trade magazines or books, asked a lot of questions, made some phone calls, and so forth.

One day, our boss, Kathy*, had had enough. She had questions she wanted to ask about our equipment and Ed was never around to answer those questions. He never even bothered calling her to let her know he wasn't coming in. It got so bad that the staff made a game of it, started a pool - what time would he come in, would he come in at all. No big prizes here, usually just a can of soda or candy from the vending machine for the winner.

One early morning in January of 1996, Kathy got together with our production supervisor, Durwood* - they huddled together in her office. Everyone looked over in Ed's corner and guessed he was the topic of conversation since he was absent - again.

Around 10 a.m. they called an "emergency meeting" in the conference room, everybody was to attend, no exceptions. Once everybody was accounted for the bosses closed the door behind them. One of them kept looking out the window into the parking lot. We all wondered what the "emergency" was. Durwood abruptly left, so everybody stared at Kathy. It was like watching a would-be standup comedian on open-mic night at the bar - she asked how we were doing, how our families were, wasn't it a bit chilly that morning? Some emergency!

After about fifteen or twenty minutes of absolute nonsense Durwood came back, he nodded to Kathy, who then she turned to us. She announced that Ed had just been canned. It didn't come as a surprise to anyone, and we all just breathed a sigh of relief. Kathy apologized for calling us into the conference room. She explained that she wanted her staff out of the way in case Ed got "belligerent." Apparently he took it well - more shocked than anything. Durwood made sure he gathered his things, signed some papers and escorted him out of the building.

About an hour after the "incident," and as things settled back to normal, I got up and headed for Kathy's office. I had contemplated offering to take over Ed's job for some time now. I didn't think anyone would object - I just never had an opening. This was my chance, I thought. I had nothing to lose - I wanted Ed's job. I knocked on Kathy's door and saw Durwood sitting across from her desk. She asked me to come in and join them, that they were just talking about me. I came right out and told Kathy that if she didn't mind, that I would like to take over Ed's job. She had told me that that's what they were talking about, that the staff seemed to have taken a liking to me and that I did a good job of tech support. I could start my new job the next day if I wanted to. I wanted to. After going over the job description - which I already knew since I did Ed's job - we shook hands, both Kathy and Durwood congratulated me, and wished me well on my new career.

That was the start of a twelve-year tenure at that advertising agency that, for the most part, was fun. Interspersed along the way were crises, comedy, pathos - but overall, it was fun.

I have lots more to tell, but let's take a break for now.

*Not their real names.

The Fan Bus, pt 2

"Movie time! Someone brought a DVD of "RV," starring Robin Williams. This wasn't so bad. Lunch, comfy seat, movie to boot! Although, throughout the movie there were scenes where Robin Williams was weaving his RV all over the road, and as I glanced out the window I couldn't distinguish fact from fiction. Were we the ones weaving, or was that in the movie? I kept my eyes glued to the screen.

Brief stop to stretch our legs. We were past Indy and just short of the Kentucky border, at a truck stop. Most of us stepped off the bus, some ran in to use real bathrooms. Although the bus was equipped with a small, airline style bathroom, it was, at best, adequate. Jan calls for "Buddy Check." Look to our left and to our right, call out if we're missing anyone. Everyone's accounted for. We're off.

Getting dark. That's a pretty sunset off to my right, clearly indicating we were headed south. The saturation of pinks and blues were mesmerizing. Some of the passengers no doubt noticed it as well. It was quiet - just the humming of the road beneath us. I borrowed my wife's iPod, thought I'd listen to some tunes, maybe get a quick nap in.

Looks like we're having pizza for dinner. Someone called ahead at a place called Cici's Pizza, at a shopping center just outside of Bowling Green, KY. The driver was given directions: just off the freeway, two stop lights down the road, then make a left. There it is. Glad we called ahead - they had extra pizzas made. Looks to be a popular joint. With it being the week before Christmas and all the stores around us, I don't think it would have mattered had they called ahead or not. The pizzeria was well prepared for big crowds. Pizza was good. Buddy check!

Another movie, this time "Rudy." Seen it already, wouldn't mind seeing it again. We were there when they filmed it, at the Notre Dame-Boston College game back in '93. Most of the game scenes were filmed during halftime, some at the end of the game. The producers wanted a real game crowd. I thought, "here we are on our way to a football game." How prophetic. Or was it ironic?

At the end of "Rudy" there was a bit of a commotion. People were laughing and pointing to something on the road. We couldn't believe what we were seeing. We were passing a pickup truck all decked out for the holidays: in the back was a full sized, fully lit, Christmas tree! With all the trimmings and decorations. And presents beneath the tree! We marveled at the driver's ingenuity. I felt like a kid. It was Christmastime after all.

We're here. Lexington, TN. The Econolodge. Jan calls our names as she hands out our hotel keys. The bus empties as we settle in for the night. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."

Stay tuned for the concluding chapter of our story...

The Fan Bus, pt 1

After a few days rest and no posting, I'm feeling refreshed and ready to present more insights, thoughts and stories.

The following is a story I submitted to the University of Saint Francis literary magazine, Apostrophe, published in 2007. It's entitled "Fan Bus." Being a big fan of college football, I felt the need to write about our football team when it made yet another appearance at the NAIA National Championship in Savannah, TN. Three trips to the "big show" and unfortunately, no championship to be had. Apparently good guys finish last. It's somewhat long, so I'll be posting this story in segments. Enjoy.

"There it was: a white, gleaming, metal box on wheels. The word "Excursions" blazoned on its sides bedizened with fancy, colorful stripes of blues, yellows, greens and reds. The Fan Bus.

It looked like a small tornado had ripped through the parking lot in front of Doermer the way people were milling around, objects strewn haphazardly here and there. Until you realized they were just making preparations for the trip: small groups of people congregating, others lugging bags filled with their belongings, coolers filled with drinks and goodies, taking them out of the trunks of cars and into the cargo holds of the bus, others handing out bottled water and sandwiches, TV crew off in a corner interviewing the locals. TV crew?

For the third consecutive year the Saint Francis football team had achieved the impossible: punching their ticket to yet another National Championship appearance in Savannah, TN. This wasn't just any ol' fan bus. This was a bus filled with high hopes and dreams and wishes. After all this was our year, third time's the charm and all that. It was our destiny. The Championship would be ours! All we had to do was show up.

The news crew made their way inside the bus. People ducked behind seats. No way they'd get snagged for an interview, let alone appear on local tv! My wife, bubbly and always talkative, didn't even flinch when the newscaster asked if he could interview her. The camera guy flipped a switch and the lights came on. The newscaster stepped aside as he shoved a microphone in her face: how do we feel, what were our hopes for a championship, were emotions running high, how does this affect the school...? Standard questions. I don't remember what exactly she said, but she was calm and collected, yet at the same time excited to be there and the circumstances surrounding the event. She made us all look good.

Almost time for us to go. Jan Patterson is on the PA holding a clipboard, going through roll-call. Tensions mount. Let's roll! The bus driver shuts the door, releases the brake and we slowly roll out of the parking lot. The news camera guy had positioned himself along the entrance of the parking lot, wanting to get a shot of our departure. I hurriedly reached into my backpack for my Saint Francis baseball cap and waved it for the camera. Like an idiot I was pointing to the "SF" on the front of it. As if anyone would see - we were behind tinted windows.

This time the bus driver comes on the PA saying she's obligated to play a video for our safety's sake, and to please pay attention to the monitors in front of us. Protocol. I half expected to see a flight attendant going through the motions: index and middle fingers of both hands smartly pointing down the aisle, indicating the route to the emergency exit doors, clicking and releasing seat belt buckles and grabbing a hold of the oxygen mask and placing it over her face "in the event of sudden cabin decompression." What safety features? It's a bus! I chuckled to myself while nervously taking note of the lone door from whence we came and looked at the overhead. No need for oxygen masks on this trip...

We settled down to eat our packed lunch: ham and cheese sandwich with lettuce and tomato, and a chocolate chip cookie. I overheard some in the back saying "I don't like lettuce," or "you gonna eat your tomatoes?" or "here, you can have mine..." Exchanges and comparisons of the delights before us. Someone actually said "I'll take your chocolate chip cookie if you don't want it." I looked at my cookie. "Ain't touching my chocolate chip cookie," I thought. Instinctively I huddled closer to my tray, briefly looking over my shoulder."

Stay tuned for the next segment…

"In the middle of things"

Some years back I bought a book* aimed at writers. This exercise is called "First Sentences: Beginning in the Middle." The objective is to come up with five sentences introducing a story "in the middle of things," and not worry at all about laying out the storyline, characters or plot. Here goes:

I

He slowly climbed up the stairs, not knowing what he would find once he opened the door to the hallway closet.

II

She hesitated for a moment before starting the car.

III

His girlfriend gave him a Valentine's day present - now he felt obligated to get her something in return.

IV

The street was closed and a "detour" sign was posted.

V

The possum slowly trudged its way down the driveway.

*Bernay, Anne and Painter, Pamela. What If? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1990.

Apollo 13

We all take for granted the media we surround ourselves with today: the Internet, cell phones, GPS, wireless and mobile computing, satellite TV. Blogs. The space program pioneered all that. So, last night I was flipping channels, not even thinking of the remote control in my hand, when I came across the movie “Apollo 13,” the one starring Tom Hanks and directed by Ron Howard. I’ve only seen it once before, and last night it was already several minutes into the show. Didn’t really make much of an impact on me when the movie first came out in 1995. Maybe because I experienced it first hand when it was frontline news, as it happened, back in April of 1970. What could a movie do to improve on a near-tragedy?

A child of the 60s, I grew up following the space program. I was too young to remember the Mercury program, vaguely conscious of the Gemini program, but extremely interested – and hooked! – in the Apollo program, the moon landings. I distinctly recall the first moon landing of Apollo 11, watching the blurry black and white images on the TV screen. Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin were the first of only twelve men to walk on the moon, a celestial body outside of Planet Earth. I recall thinking I couldn’t see anything but a white structure, a black background and a fuzzy figure making an appearance on the screen. Like most people Apollo 11 got my attention, Apollo 12 barely got a nod from me, and Apollo 13… were we sending yet another moon landing?

But back to the movie…I marvel at, not only how mankind was able to land on the moon and return safely home, but how the catastrophe of Apollo 13 brought the world together, even if for a few days of peace, and how the personnel at NASA were able to bring our astronauts back. Stranded in space, oxygen supply running low, breathing in their own carbon dioxide fumes, several days away from re-entry and living in the cramped Lunar Module that was designed for two astronauts, not three, and rely on it to be your primary transport…and far away from home. But they did it, they came home. I enjoyed the movie. Brought me back to those seemingly far, but never-forgotten days of childhood. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from life is to never take anything for granted.

Birds

We’ve set up bird feeders outside our dining room window. It’s a pretty big window, measuring, oh, I would say about 5 ft x 4 ft. We live out in the country, “somewhere in the Midwest.” We’ve set up two shepherd’s crooks, each with two prongs. One prong holds a cage with a suet cube, the other a rather ordinary cylinder containing bird seeds. The other crook also has a cage, but it’s empty now, and the other prong holds what appears to be a hexagonal shaped wooden pan, containing an assortment of bird seed and some peanuts. It’s pretty impressive to see quite the collection of species feeding themselves: there are finches, swallows, tit-mouse (tit-mice?) cardinals, bluejays, some woodpecker whose name I forget now - has a spotted underbelly, striped wings and a bright red crown on the back of its head. I could look it up in our bird book, but that takes the magic away from the wonderment of the moment.

I’ve seen more species of birds since moving to our country home than in all my life since memory. I look forward to watching the birds feed. Watch them fly in from the woods and land on the feeders, mingle with their own, or other species. Occasionally one, or several, might have a tantrum and chase each other away from the feeder. For the most part there are several species of bird peacefully sharing, communing with each other as they feed. Reminiscent of an outdoor café.

Our journey begins

We are about to set off on a journey, an adventure. This journey will take us to wherever our minds wish us to go: the far reaches of the galaxy, a mysterious island somewhere in the Pacific, performing a dance ritual with a zombie tribe, discovering new organisms in the depths of the ocean floor, flying an experimental aircraft using an unknown source of fuel, sex, romance, trivialities, even some editorializing – anything we can conjure up. This adventure is called “writing!”

This is an exercise in creativity. As a budding writer, I have taken it upon myself to impose a regimen, or a series of exercises, to expand on the creative. As the introductory paragraph states this could be anything. Whatever comes to mind – a sentence, a short story, an article, an opinion, random thoughts – I’ll write about it. It is my hope that what’s written here will elicit some form of reaction from you, the reader. Be it happiness, doubt, incredulity, sadness, wonderment. If it does, then I have accomplished what I set out to do. Let’s begin.