Cans and Going High Tech

When I was a kid in the 70s, we played kick the can.

Almost every night during summer, when the sun went down, kids in the neighborhood gathered in a back yard with the Folgers or Maxwell House coffee can — or a Well’s Blue Bunny ice cream bucket (gallon-sized) — for an hour or two of hiding and kicking and getting grass stains on our knees. Lots of debate on who was or wasn’t adhering to the rules would ensue. And honestly, I can’t even remember the rules. It didn’t matter then or now.

My kids never experienced the thrill of rushing into a wide open space and sliding into or kicking a can so they wouldn’t have to be “it.” Technology usurped those summer evening back yard games.

I marvel in both admiration and horror as my son now sits and spends his evening with a head set and portable computer chatting in real-time with friends as he plays computer war games.

While the Folgers Coffee can has been replaced with other technology, I’m not so sure it’s ALL for the better.

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High School Again

I graduated from high school in 1983. It was the year of Flashdance and The Police; Billie Jean and Hall & Oats.

My junior and senior year of high school were spent dating a good Catholic girl, Carol, who lived on the east side of town. We watched movies at the drive in (kind of), held house parties when our parents left town, and “parked” in her Volkswagon Beetle on quiet county roads where the smell of dirt from the cornfields made its way through the open windows. We would break up and get back together days later because that’s what kids did – and we were kids.

High school – even my small-town high school – was all about social classes. The wealthy came from the country club. The poor from Park Street (not Park Avenue). The working class occasionally produced an athlete or a genius and we took great pride in knowing those kids; the ones who elevated the rest of us nearer the top rung of the ladder.

Friends were friends and I knew who they were. I knew who could be counted on and who would turn and run when the shit hit the fan. If a friend was in trouble, we rallied around and made the recovery bearable. But kids then, as now, could be asses and the high school games some kids played were tiresome, hurtful and just plain dumb.

So I’m amazed at the games people play some 25 or 30 years later in life as if they never left high school. It’s pitifully disappointing and these are the people I never would have wasted my time on back in my teens. Why would I waste my time now when it’s so valuable. My own ethics and opinions too established and important to who I am to play the games they choose to play.

It means my circle of closest friends remains small and proximate. And I refuse to let just anyone into that circle. But it also means I know exactly who my real friends are and who I can count on when the shit hits the fan.

Here’s to my friends. You know who you are.

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The Minnesota State Fair: Perspectives in Photos

Today was the last day of the Great Minnesota Get Together. My son and I ventured out to the fair for a few hours. You can view the photographic results  here…

Since part of my last name is included in this sign from a Midway exhibit at the state fair, I was compelled to include it. No, we didn’t venture inside.

The Reptile exhibit entrance.  Here my son shows who’s bigger.  The snakes inside the booth, however, could have eaten both of us whole and not even burped.

Our first stop for fair food. This vendor calls them “pronto pups.”  They’re more commonly known as corn dogs. With mustard and ketchup they are fantastic!

We didn’t slide down the super slide, but we ate our cheese fries at the red picnic table in the lower right corner. It was reported that Fergie, who performed earlier in the week at the Grandstand, promptly puked after sliding down this attraction. The owner/operator, however, said that was only a rumor.

Cheese curds. It’s basically deep fried cheese pieces. Probably colby. We passed on the curds this year.

Ahhh, the Sky Ride. It’s a gondola ride that travels east/west across the length of the fair grounds. It delivered us to the entrance to the Midway where we promptly blew $40 on tickets to toss balls and rings resulting in several prizes, including a Family Guy “Stewie” stuffed doll.

I’ll end with this taco stand. Taco King has been at the state fair for almost as long as I’ve been on earth. I imagine their shells are a little dry.

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My Super Power: Defined

Your Superpower Should Be Manipulating Electricity

You’re highly reactive, energetic, and super charged.

If the occasion calls for it, you can go from 0 to 60 in a split second. But you don’t harness your energy unless you truly need to.

And because of this, people are often surprised by what you are capable of.

Why you would be a good superhero: You have the stamina to fight enemies for days.

Your biggest problem as a superhero: As with your normal life, people would continue to underestimate you.

What’s your super power? 

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Random Thoughts (Again)

Games We Played 

When I ran across this list of childhood games – adjusted for those of us now crossing over into adulthood – I couldn’t resist posting them here:

1. Sag, you’re It.
2. Hide and go pee.
3. Twenty questions shouted into your good ear.
4. Kick the bucket
5. Red Rover, Red Rover, the nurse says bend over.
6. Musical recliners.
7. Simon says something incoherent.
8. Pin the toupee on the bald guy

Growing up, we had a neighborhood filled with kids of all ages. At dusk throughout the summer, we met on the lawn at the house on the corner and played Kick the Bucket until parents whistled us home for bed.  I can’t imagine letting my kids play outside after dark today.  Just another proof point as to how times have changed.

I am laughing with the rest of the world at Senator Larry Craig’s predicament. The Idaho legislator backed himself into a bathroom stall at the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport and proceeded to get himself into a major pickle with local undercover law enforcement.

Seems there are laws against lewd behavior such as tapping your foot and waving your hand under the wall of the bathroom stall and into the stall next to the one you occupy – obvious signs that you want to engage in some sort of sexual behavior with the guy who’s urinating next to you.

Craig, of course, said he pleaded guilty because he wanted the whole mess to go away quickly and quietly (probably the only truth he’s uttered on the topic since it happened). Now, he’s claiming he’s not gay (not sure anyone jumped to that conclusion in the first place).  

We all know how stressful being a senator can be. But when will politicians realize you can’t have a private life and serve in a public fashion. If you need to relieve stress, go to a gym, watch an episode of Three and a Half Men, or learn to swing dance. Just don’t get busted flagging down a blow job in the men’s room at the airport.

After Lewinski-Gate, one would think politicians would stop letting it all hang out publicly period. Why is this such a difficult concept to understand? Luckily, for Americans, it makes for good stories on “The Daily Show.”

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