A Pleasant Waste of Time - Sometimes

In late June I wrote a blog about my signing up for Facebook. Against my better judgment, I signed up to please my daughters. They had signed on a week before at the urgings of one of the former “loves of my life”.

I have 22 Facebook friends (my younger daughter has more that 100); 6 of them are family members, 2 are former “loves of my life”, 3 are former roommates (they were really friends, because anyone who had the forbearance to live with me, had to be a friend) and 2 are former co-workers. The rest are childhood friends of my two daughters, who probably remember me only as “that crabby old man” who would go searching for his daughters when they were out past curfew.

Last week, a friend and former roommate tagged me. A tag is like a meme. I don’t participate in memes and I usually ignore tags (not that I get that many). But the topic of this tag fascinated me.

Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen movies you've seen that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than fifteen minutes. Tag fifteen friends, including me because I'm interested in seeing what movies my friends choose.

He then listed his 15 movies.

I’ve been known to occasionally bend the rules; almost to the point of cheating (if I knew I could get away with it). So I grab a piece of loose leaf paper and put it on a clip board. Within ten minutes I had a list of more than 30 movies.

It’s funny how the mind works. The first movie that I wrote down reminded me of other movies featuring one of the actors (actress) in that movie. Then your mind leads you to a director. My hand was writing faster than a speeding bullet. I write a lot faster than I can type; and I don’t have to constantly use a backspace key.

I sat back and looked at my list and decided that some of the movies on the lower end of the list should have been closer to the top of the list. It was a hopeless cause (where is St. Jude when you need him?). So I decided to give up on this tag game and not participate.

After speaking to a friend (Richard Feder) yesterday, I decided to bend the rules and edit my selections. But I would not put the results on Facebook; instead I would write this Blog. The first movie listed is still the first movie that popped into my mind. It was the first non-animated movie that I had seen in color. The second was also second on my original list.

The List:

1. The African Queen
2. Casablanca
3. On the Waterfront
4. Star Wars
5. Forrest Gump
6. M*A*S*H
7. Animal House
8. Blazing Saddles
9. Goodfellows
10. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
11. 2001: A Space Odyssey
12. The Godfather
13. North by Northwest
14. Alien
15. Raiders of the Lost Ark

Five movies that just missed the final cut were:

1. Caddyshack
2. The Maltese Falcon
3. Donovan’s Reef
4. The Terminator
5. Charade

The problem with these tag games is that the list requirements are either too long or too short.

The Beach Bum

My Evil, Evil Ways

During the past 9 days I have started to write 5 different Blogs. They sit here in a folder waiting to be completed along with 8 others from the past 6 months.

It’s not because I do not have the time or inspiration to complete them; but for the reason that I have become easily distracted lately.

I’ll begin to write and then get an hour long telephone call from a friend or sometimes the pain that I suffer within my body becomes too intense for me to bear.

Talking to my friends and family is very important to me because I have no social life where I am now living. I’ll receive two or three calls a week and make another three to four calls. The average length of these calls is usually over an hour long.

One of my shortest recent calls was from my friend Lurch, who lives in the hoity-toity Brentwood area of Los Angeles. He called to get my address (which he already had, but couldn’t find) and we were on the phone for about 30 minutes. Lurch is really a character and a half; in California they call him Dr. Demento.

As for the pain and suffering; most of it has been self inflicted over the course of the past 50 years. What were just aches 20 years ago, have now become major pains. I never took care of myself when I was younger; feeling that I was indestructible.

I don’t take prescription medicines; although they have prescribed them for me at the VA. The Doctors there plan to do a major psych evaluation on me because I refuse to take pain killers; to ease my pain. I refuse to go back there because I feel they are going to lock me up and throw away the key. Of course, they say, that it would be for my own well being.

I medicate with natural supplements, alcohol (a natural pain killer) and nicotine. The Doctors (and some of my friends) think that I am crazy for this course of action. But then again, back in the spring of 2004, the Doctors gave me 2 to 3 years to live if I continued my evil, evil ways. I, of course, ignored them. I, like Dr. Demento, enjoy doing evil things. And five years later I am still amongst the living.

I’ll catch up on my Blogging soon.

The Beach Bum

Two Good Days for the Beach Bum

I had planned to write this Blog yesterday, but a good friend from Wisconsin (The Prince – I gave him the Nickname 42 years ago) arrived at the Beach Bum Shedquarters earlier than I expected. Although we speak on the telephone often, there have been no in person visits for two years. He and his wife still look the same. And though he wouldn’t admit it, I have changed for the worse during the past two years (I know because I see myself in the mirror on a daily basis).

And now to change the subject, which I get better at doing with each passing day.

Years ago I told my children not to waste their money on Birthday or Father’s Day Cards. Unlike my wife (she probably has to rent a storage bin for them), I usually don’t save these cards unless something very special has been written on the card. I’ve saved a few for posterity’s sake; perhaps my grandchildren will read them some day.

This Father’s Day I received two cards; one was a hard copy and the other was an E-card.

The hard card was delivered to me by one of my younger daughter’s dogs (Sanibel). Both dogs know me as Grandpa. When I speak to them, I refer to my daughter and son-in-law as Mommy and Daddy. I’ve been spending a lot of time with the dogs lately because of my daughter’s frequent missions of mercy to Maryland to help her Grandmother with legal matters.

The E-card was from my eldest daughter (42 years old). I would like to share it with you (without her permission). It made my day!

Although it is always spoken and implied, my daughter rarely puts her feelings in writing.

This was the best card that I have ever received on Father’s Day!

Hey Dad!

Just want to let you know that I'm thinking about you. I know I don't tell you very often...but I think the world of you. You've always been there for me. Whenever I've needed someone to talk to or to just listen to me...you're my favorite person to come to! I miss you a bunch! I miss your b-b ques ...all that yummy chicken and ribs or steak that you loved cookin'. I miss hangin' out and having a beer (one of yours...no doubt LOL) with you and just talking about old times. I just miss being close to you. Some of my best and funniest memories are with you!!! You always make me laugh that's for sure!!! Anyways, I just want you to know that I LOVE YOU with all my heart and I miss you...especially this day.
Happy Father's Day, Dad!
Love, Kim xoxoxo

The Beach Bum

No News Is Good News

My Dad had adages for just about everything and anything. When I was a youngster, back in the Stone Age, many of them puzzled me. I’d think “What did he mean by that?” But I did remember what he had said. And today I use many of the same wise sayings.

One of the most confusing was “No news is good news”. Did he mean that there was never any good news or that not hearing any news was a good thing? If I asked what he meant, I risked being called a bumpkin; therefore I usually didn’t question the meaning of his sagacious advice. Later I learned that he, in fact, meant the latter. Not hearing any news was in fact good news.

I have used this phrase (“No news is good news”) throughout my life. Sometimes I use the phrase as there is never any good news and at other times I use the phrase to denote that I haven’t heard any bad news. Like my Dad, I like to confuse people.

I spend two to three hours every day reading online Newspapers and Blogs. I try to get both the Liberal and Conservative viewpoints on any topic that I find of interest. That way, I can bias my opinion on any subject that I espouse.

Back in my High School days I was on the Debate Team. I learned how to take either side of an argument. There you are taught how to champion principles that you do not believe nor are an adherent of (never end a sentence with a preposition – supposedly improper grammar – but I do it all the time when I speak and my writings are just an extension of my speaking).

During the past two days there was no news that adversely affected me or my family; therefore “no news is good news”.

The Beach Bum

Grunts and Groans - Aches and Pains

When my Dad was in his late sixties he began to make strange noises. Each noise was associated with a certain movement that he made or a task that he preformed. The first one that I noticed him making was a groaning sound as he got up out of his chair.

I asked him if there was something wrong and he looked at me as if I were crazy. I didn’t probe any deeper.

Over the course of the next 5 or 6 years there were more and more noises. There was the tying of the shoe noise, the walking up and down the stairs noise, the bending down to pick up something that had fallen on the floor noise and (my favorite) the opening of the door noise. He even had a noise for opening the refrigerator. Not to mention the noises that he made in the Bathroom.

The noises became even louder with each passing year. Afraid to ask him, I asked my Mom if he was in constant pain. She told me no. And that if he had pain he would go to the Doctor. She said that these noises, that he was making, were his way of relieving his aches. She also said that he didn’t realize that he was grunting and groaning.

After a while I could tell you exactly what he was doing, even if I was blindfolded, from the sounds that he was making.

Back then I was in my mid forties. The only time I vocalized my movements was when I experienced pleasure or relief. My noises basically consisted of Oous, Aahs and Oows. When I drank my first beer of the day, I would make the aah sound. Five or six beers later when I had to go and relieve myself, I would make the oow sound. The best sound was the oou sound, which I reserve for when I had an orgasm. There were a lot of aahs and oows, but never enough oous.

By the time I reach 60 years old, I had added several other noises to my vocabulary. And with each successive year I’ve been adding more and more. Most times, unless it has been brought to my attention by my daughter, I do not realize that I am grunting and groaning. It just comes natural.

I’m turning into my Dad. But it could be worse; when I stop grunting and groaning, I’ll be in an urn.

The Beach Bum

A Bad Time to Buy

Last weekend there were several articles in the St. Petersburg Times about the falling economy and the housing slump in the Tampa Bay area. One particular article was about Hernando County; the county where I currently reside. It made the front page of the Times last Saturday.

It was a well researched article by Times Staff Writers Chandra Broadwater and John Frank. The Headline read “Housing Slump slams Hernando County”.

Here are some interesting facts and figures about the recent economic downturn in Hernando County from this story (Please note that there are 67 counties in Florida).

• The second-highest increase in the number of households receiving food stamps from May 2007 to May 2008, at 58 percent.

• The third-highest unemployment rate in April, at 6.6 percent.

• The fourth-highest rate of foreclosures in May from the previous year.

• The fifth-highest jump in students receiving free or reduced-price school lunches from March 2007 to March 2008.

And these numbers are accelerating as I write this Blog.

My son-in-law and daughter (hereafter referred to as “the kids”) decided to look at homes, in Hernando County, in the fall of 2004. They were tired of “throwing away their money” on rent. I thought that this was a good idea. But why look in Hernando County? My daughter explained that the same size house in Pinellas County (St. Petersburg-Clearwater area) was selling for $50,000 to $70,000 more with smaller lots. This made sense to me, but I did mention the fact that most of son-in-law's work (he is a plumber) was in Pinellas County.

At that time there was a construction boom going on in Hernando County. The kids were primarily looking at new homes in new subdivisions. I looked at some of the brochures and I couldn’t believe what was being offered for under $200,000 on a quarter plus acre lot. Swimming pools (screened in), fireplaces, vaulted ceilings and marble countered Kitchens and Bathrooms.

By April of 2005 these houses had gone up in price by at least $50,000 and there was at least a nine month wait for occupancy. This put the home that the kids wanted out of their financial range. In May 2005 the kids began to panic. Not only were prices escalating but it was also rumored the Apartment Complex that we lived in was being sold and being turned into Condos (the rumor was true). So they decided to look at older homes (built in the 1980’s).

The house they found had 2000 Sq Ft of living space situated on a well landscaped half-acre plus lot with a screened-in swimming pool, for under $200,000. The kids put in a contract and went to settlement in July.

Now let’s jump ahead to 2008.

The current market value of this house is about $30,000 less than what the kids paid for it. Although they have made several improvements to the house and the property.

The new construction has virtually ceased. Developers have reduced prices on finished homes (vacant) as much as $50,000 just to recover some of their losses. Investors (speculators) who had bought homes during the boom (looking to make a fast profit) are letting their properties go into foreclosure. Nobody is buying.

What happened?

First the real estate market began to fall apart in 2006. Then the job market began to decline (the two major industries in Hernando County were the construction industry and the service industry – Wal Mart is the largest employer in the County). Finally gas went up from under $2 a gallon (regular) in the summer of 2005 to nearly $4 per gallon in 2008.

Who is to Blame? You have to blame someone, it’s the American way!

Personally I blame President George W Bush, his brother Jeb (former Governor of Florida), the Congress (both State and National) and the apathy of the average American citizen like me.

The Beach Bum

Relatively Speaking

My surname is not common. There are probably less that 100 living in the United States and less that 250 worldwide (most being in the Czech Republic).

My father became infected with encephalitis (sleeping sickness) when I was very young. He went into a comatose state shortly thereafter. Several years later he died of Pneumonia. I never really knew him.

My Mother remarried and the man that I call my Dad in these Blogs reared me. I think that he did a good job and I loved him as I would if he was my biological father. He’s the only Dad that I know.

Last Friday I was checking my Stat Counter for my Web Site (not this Blog). There is a “came from” option and I notice that a recent visitor to the site had Googled my surname. I haven’t searched for my surname for at least 8 years. I did so. There were more than 15,000 entries on Google.

All of these people listed must be relatives.

I ran across one entry from the Chicago Sun Times about an 80 year old WWII vet named Edward who lived in North Riverside, IL. I wondered if this could be my cousin Edward (AKA Junior). I hadn’t seen him since I was on leave from the Army before shipping out to Africa (he saw my name tag on my uniform and approached me).I probably hadn’t seen him for 15 years. After my mother remarried, I had very little contact with my birth Father’s family.

I tried to call Edward on Friday night. I got his answering machine and left a message, but it cut me off before I could leave a telephone number. I tried calling back but it cut me off again.

On Saturday, I tried again. We connected!

We had an hour plus conversation. We spoke about my Father (he got choked up- he said that he and my Father, his uncle, were close), the family and what they are doing now.

He will be 83 in October and still is able to run for the bus. I have a hard time walking to the Bathroom.

He is sending me pictures of the family from the late 40’s and early 50’s; including pictures of me and my Father (I have only one photo of us together – when I was a baby).

I’ll be calling him again soon.

The Beach Bum

Noises Off

This is my first Blog of the New Year. I can’t believe that it has been a week since my last Blog. I’ve been having brain cramps lately. I can’t think a complete thought.

There are three reasons for this recent thinking problem and none of them are caused by my alcohol consumption. I feel that I have written some of my best stuff when I am half in the bag. Of course it’s usually full of errors which I have to correct the next day.

Now back to the three reasons for my recent attack of brain cramps.

First and foremost is noise. The noise level in this household, during the past week, has been extremely high. I do not think well in a noisy environment; I like peace and quiet. My Son-in-Law turns the television volume up to drown out other background noises.

Then there is the conflict and contention. The main source of conflict is my Brother-in-Law, AKA Uncle John, and his 88 year old mother. Add to this the fact that Uncle John’s 89 year old father (who was a brilliant man) is suffering from Dementia. John and his mother (as well as my daughter) believe that John’s sister ("the thieving Republican" who has “The General’s” power of attorney for financial matters) is stealing all of his money (which is/or was at one time, a substantial amount).

Finally, there is the cold weather here in Florida. One of main reasons that I moved to Florida was to get away from the cold northern weather. I do not function very well in the cold. Both my body and my brain go into slow motion. My knees, back and shoulders constantly ache and this causes my brain to function erratically. My theory is that the brain is too busy concentrating on the pain to use the mental processes.

It was in the 70’s yesterday and may reach 80 degrees today. Today my daughter has left for an eight day stint in Maryland (on her Grandmother’s behest). Therefore the contention level here will drop as well as the noise level. It has been a Madhouse here for the past week.

Maybe I’ll get some Peace and Quiet for at least a week. Perhaps my brain with be able to function at full speed again.

The Beach Bum

In Vino Veritas

My youngest daughter (who reads my Blog on a regular basis) told me that my Blog is full of spelling errors and improper word usage. When I asked her for an example she said “You used the word worst where you should have used the word worse.”

In a telephone conversation, an old friend from Chicago basically made the same comments. He said that I over punctuate, I misspell words (usually homonyms) and that my usage of grammar, in general, is borderline.

This embarrasses me because I have always prided myself on the proper use of the English language. I have corrected youngest daughter on her grammar too many time too count. And now she is correcting me. Turnabout is fair play!

She attributes it to my use of Vodka and my writing when I am “half in the bag”. In fact, she has cut me off of my Vodka and has instead put me on red wine to supplement my beer drinking habit. So now instead of being a drunk, I am becoming a wino.

I have always liked wine, especially red wine, but like Gin it tends to do strange things to me. Vodka does not take away my inhibitions. Gin and wine do. For example, a few nights ago, I was singing along with one of my favorite songs at 0130 hours. This, of course, woke my daughter. She admonished me and sent me off to bed.

Now if you have ever listened to me attempting to sing when I have been drinking wine, you’d know that this is not too appealing to the ear. I sound like a cross between Joe Cocker, Bob Dylan and a cat that has just had its tail caught in a mousetrap. When I was young I had a good baritone voice, but the years of alcohol abuse and cigarette smoking has made it very raspy. Add to this the fact that I am usually wearing headphones (at a full volume level) and cannot hear how bad I really sound; it becomes a nightmare for others.

So here I sit, nearing midnight, with 9 beers and nearly a half of a 1.5 liter bottle of cheap Merlot in my gullet; writing this piece and getting ready to sing again. I think my daughter will soon put me back on my daily Vodka ration, just to get me off of the wine.

Please forgive my misspellings and grammatical errors, as I am, as usual, half in the bag.

The Beach Bum

Fishing

A fellow Blogger, that I admire, recently suggested that we post a picture and Blog about the picture that we have posted.

This concept caught my interest!

I have tons of pictures on my computer. Mostly of young naked women. The “Killer Clams” series that I received from a friend in 2001 is still one of my favorites. The clams that are referred to are not of the mollusk variety, but just as edible and tasty.

But I decided not to post these pictures because some would find them as being obscene. How anyone could find pictures of a naked nubile female obscene is beyond my imagination. But I am told that some people do and therefore I refrained from doing so.

Here’s my Picture and my story.

When my son was a pre-teen we spent a lot of time fishing. This was a father-son thing. I enjoy fishing. It is both relaxing and sporting. Pleasant conversations with your fishing partner(s) make it all that much better.

My Grandfather taught me that it was more important to just be fishing than to catch a fish. And that catching a fish, that you could eat, was a bonus.

The picture above is that of my son 3 years ago when he caught a near record Barracuda in the Gulf of Mexico (2 inches short). He fought it for nearly a half hour. If you have ever fought a game fish, such as Marlin or Tarpon, you know how tiring and exasperating this can be. He didn’t even know what he had on his line.

As Barracuda is not an edible fish and it was not a record catch; he released it after the photo was taken. The fish happily swam away!

The Beach Bum

Reunions

Every year I attend two Reunions.

My family (and old neighborhood friends) Reunion in Chicago is held on the third Saturday in July. It is usually held at the Saint Mary’s Seminary Picnic Grove in Lemont, Illinois. I eagerly look forward to this event.

There is a lot of hugging and kissing plus a lot of good food; I usually grill Italian sausage with peppers. I’ve been told that my peppers are second to none. I use a combination of Red, Green and Yellow peppers. I half cook them the day before in a quality Olive Oil with fresh Garlic and a few Sorrento peppers for zest.

This is usually the only time of the year that I get to spend some time with my family and boyhood friends. It’s a very diverse crowd; my Cousin “the Admiral” calls it the 5 Generation Family Picnic. I am a member of the “Third Generation” or perhaps the Second now. I am not too sure.

The second annual Reunion that I attend is usually called “The Blast” or “The Spookfest”. This year it is being held here at Treasure Island, Florida. Last year it was held on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. The theme of this reunion is “Let’s tell the most outlandish story about the time that we spent in the small African Nation of Eritrea”. In other words, we just sit around Bullshit and enjoy one another’s company. We’ll reminisce about what we call the “Good Old Days”. The wives who attend will pardon us for our ribald stories and our bad language.

Yes, we are a bunch of old Army Buddies. As one of the members of our group once said we are “A Band of Brothers”. And we actually treat our group as brothers and often address each other as Brother. Being at Kagnew Station was like being in a Fraternity House in the early 1960's. We may fight, we may argue and we often disagree; but no matter what, you are still my brother and I love you. And we are always there for both moral and financial support of our brethren.

I knew most of these guys for less than 18 months of my life. What makes these friendships endure for 40 years? I have shared a lot of good times with many people, but these guys, my Brothers, are very special to me at this stage in my life. I look very much forward to seeing them when they invade my turf next week.

I love my family and “my brothers” and eagerly anticipate seeing them once again this year.

The Beach Bum