Rooney, Mickey Not Andy

As regular readers of this blog know, I've been told that my voice is unique. One wag remarked that I had a future on The Cartoon Network. A waitress insisted that I sounded like Jiminy Cricket. Several folks have told me that I sound like a local newscaster who's name escapes me this minute. My laugh is apparently quite distinct. And then on the phone yesterday a customer told me that I sound exactly like Mickey Rooney. Yes, the old actor who started out as Andy Hardy.

I suppose it's better to be known for something. But Jiminy Cricket? Andy Hardy? 

Well, here's a a clip of Andy Hardy. You tell me. And maybe it's the power of suggestion, but while watching that clip I do seem to hear me. I wonder if I would have stood a chance with Judy Garland...

Balky Marty

A few years ago I was at a Tigers game with an old friend. I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name. 

Cloyce and I are both fairly avid baseball fans. We know the rules and what to watch for, although if I may say I'm better at it than he is.

We were sitting along the first base side of the diamond, just about right in line with the pitcher. In this case it was a left hander, so we had a really good look at him. 

Before I go on you need to know what a balk is in baseball. Among other illegal actions, if the pitcher is ruled to have started his throwing motion he must either throw a pitch to the batter or throw to an occupied base, one with a runner on it. If he fails to do either, runners move up. It keeps the pitcher from faking his intentions.

At one point the Tigers had a runner on first; we were playing Baltimore. The Orioles pitcher barely lifted his right foot, then put it back down again without doing anything else. You had to watch very close to see it, but I caught it. "He balked!" I said out loud. The next instant the home plate umpire called time, indicated balk, and motioned the runner on first base to advance to second.

"How did you see that?" Cloyce asked, awed and amazed at my baseball prowess. 

"I came here to watch a game. Didn't you?" I asked in all haughtiness. I mean, you're supposed to see things like that if you're really paying attention, right? 

To this day Cloyce will occasionally look at me and ask, "Balk?," as though he still can't believe it. But hey. I call 'em as I see 'em.

Mom on Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms out there. Happy Mother's Day too to all of you whose Mothers had you. They deserve the credit, and you owe them everything. Don't waste the chance they gave you. Start by thanking them.

I know she won't see this, but I feel bad that I don't talk about my own mother here anywhere near the degree to which I talk about Pops or even Grandpa Joe. She was - is - a great Mom, a bit headstrong, maybe, but with her moments. One of those wasn't that long ago.

When she had a pacemaker at 80 the doctor was explaining after the surgery that it had a ten year battery. "But I need twenty," she immediately told him, as though obvious.

It is a good attitude, right?

Happy Mother's Day Mom, and to all Moms.

Memories of the State Fair Coliseum

The Shrine Circus is here at the Coliseum! The Shrine Circus is here!

If you're singing that jingle in your head as you read it, then you're old enough to remember the Michigan State Fair Coliseum in Detroit. I happened by it yesterday, catching the progress of its deconstruction. The picture above is of the now open north end of the stadium.

A lot of great memories came into my mind. We took the kids to the Shrine Circus there two or three times as I recall. During the Michigan State Fair, we would watch the equestrian competitions in it. My son Charlie and I saw ZZ Top at that old barn in 2005; it was great to see and hear them live in a small venue. When I was 10 me Grandpa Joe took me to a rodeo there. Great seats too; we were right by the gate where the cowboys were released riding the bucking broncos. 

Ah well. Time marches on. They are saving the front facing to use as a picnic area, which is cool. I'll put a picture of that at the end here.

Inside Out

I often leave for sales trips in the wee hours of the morning. One day I rose at 2 AM, dressed in the dark, and was on my way to Indianapolis to make a couple deliveries and call on a few customers.

A little after Noon, having finished my work and on the way home, I pulled into a truck plaza for a pit stop, bite to eat, and a cup of joe, because road trips require coffee. It's science.

Drying my hands in the men's room after washing I saw in the mirror, and to my horror, that my pullover shirt was on inside out. It was plain as day. Not one of my customers mentioned it either. Although it does explain the regular, inexplicable snickering.

The lesson is, don't dress in the dark. Also, don't trust anyone to prevent embarrassment for you.

McCartney, Cash, and Starr

I doubt than an iconic English musician needs a push from me. But here it is anyway.

Paul McCartney's latest single, Days We Left Behind, may be his best song in decades. Sentimental without being cloying, it's an intimate reflection on his personal history yet with feelings with which we can all relate. His weak, tired voice adds depth, giving the song a bit of an ethereal, other worldly sound. It's not unlike Johnny Cash's voice fatigue in Ain't No Grave. Wistful, yet powerful.

He and fellow Beatle Ringo Starr release a duet this Friday, Home to Us. Although they've sung and performed together frequently since the Fab Four split, it's their first full on duet. I'm looking forward to it.

Ringo by the way has had some good stuff lately too. Here's Look Up from 2025 if you're interested.

The dog did it

I woke up laughing this morning. I believe that's because I was laughing in a dream.

I have no idea where we were in this dream, but my buddy Nick and I were out and about somewhere. Probably curling in a weekend bonspiel, as we needed a room for the night. So we find a hotel.

As we begin to fall asleep in this double bed, I look over my shoulder to see Nick lying on his side facing away from me, but so close to the edge of the bed that I though he would fall out. Then I turn away from him, and here's my son's dog Gaspode, a black and white Australian Shepherd. So I start petting him.

All of a sudden Gaspode leaps over me and, taking one big hop on the middle of the bed, he comes down with all four paws against Nick's back, knocking him onto the floor with a loud thud. Then 'Spode just sits in the center of the bed, studying his conquest.

I raise up and start laughing out loud. Then I was petting Gaspode and saying, "Who's a good boy? He's a good boy!" and laughing like all get out. All the while Nick is laying on the hotel room floor stunned.

Then I woke up laughing and, honestly, looking for Gaspode, wondering where he was. I laughed for about ten minutes before I settled down.

You can't make this up. But I sure hope Nick's all right.