Simple things

Sometimes fast food is revealing and good. Sometimes, eating at a place that has thousands of restaurants across this great nation is a breath of fresh air, reminding us that life in this society, as glorious as it can be, is just one drive through after another, unless we choose to look in the kitchen.

I came home from work the other day and didn't feel like cooking dinner. I do most of the cooking between Joni and I. She could eat mac and cheese every meal, mixed with chocolate; plus, when she gets home, she's usually in a coma.

I saw one of those commercials where the hamburger joint was offering is owner's name with the word 'Big" in front of it. It just sounded good, looked even better, and since my wife eats stuff with no flavor in it, I was off to get me one of them there Big somethin's. Here was the other thing I wasn't expecting, once I got there, there was a difference in the place.

The kitchen behind the counter was huge and wide open. Of course it was a takeover from a Krispy-Kreme after Krispy-Kreme ran head-long into the South Beach Diet and Adkins. There was wide open space where baby donuts were born in a river of oil a long time ago.

The place was clean-immaculate actually. There is something about walking into a fast food place and not feeling the need to draw your arms and hands in tight to your body for fear of catching something, that improves your appetit. So I got the sandwich-combo actually. It just looked good on TV. The girl at the counter was nice and had all her teeth, "How may I serve you today sir?" You could even understand her and she looked at you and smiled when she spoke to you. For a moment, you thought she really liked her job and wanted to make a career out of it. I ordered the burger and then added the special, two deluxe hot dogs for $1. No, they weren't Costco size, but they were large enough that one would have satisfied me. Why did I order two dogs when I had a "Big?" Because they were two for a buck. Why else?

Look, there are complications to life-war, peace, cholesterol, water, global warming, what will the Cubs do this year, but if you get the chance to enjoy a moment and see the simple side where all those things, for a moment, just fall away and you find yourself admiring a clean floor where one usually isn't, a sincere smile, and a value for a dollar-if you can find that moment, you need to remember it and pass it on.

The power of the 'Word'

I want to bring some words back.

A lot of us remember the 'good old days' now as being the sixties. You see fewer Elvis impersonators and more Temptations look-a-likes at the Indian casinos. Why? Because the people remembering the fifties are dying off and the sixties generation is at bat, plain and simple. That's just the tip of the iceberg that's looming large on our bow. Wait until Michael Jackson wannabes start showing up at your kids bat-mitzvah. So if we're going to do it, lets bring back the words that galvanized a decade of love, war, leisure suits, and some guys called The Beatles.

Groovy is a term developed by long hairs to mean 'cool' and 'hip'. These are two words we need to clarify later. Groovy means to be harmonious and usually was accompanied by the person raising their index finger and whatever that finger is next to the index finger as if they're indicating two orders of fries. The two fingers was symbolic for 'peace' in those days which is not to be mixed up with Sir Winston Churchill's use of the same two fingers during WWII which were symbolic for 'Victory.' There could be a correlation between victory and peace although that combination is fleeting.

Bitchin' is one of my favorite words. Its cutting, hard-packed, and makes you seem like you live on the edge. Anyone hearing it will get the image that the user has a motorcycle, a gun, and isn't afraid to use either. The word means 'groovy' 'cool' 'neat' only with an air of someone saying "I want to see you bleed, man."

Hip associates with fashion. It marks whatever it is addressing as trendy, fashionable, stylish, so on. You are not groovy if you stand there and comment on what your friend is wearing and say "Hey, you're stylish," and then flip the peace/Churchill sign. You would then be a "drag." I like to think this came out of the fashion style of 'hip-hugger' jeans when the women wore their jeans waaaaaay down on their hips, showing their form, usually accented with a big, wide, white belt; much like high school boys do today.

Cool. I don't think this word ever went away. It's classic and versatile. Its one of those words that can apply to almost any situation from fashion, attitude, to your coffee on a winter day.

Boss rates up there with groovy. It symbolizes that something is king-be it a shirt, a band, or music. Whatever it is pointed at means that item deserves respect and a free pass back stage.

Look, there are a bunch and some of them today we could even weave in, although they haven't lived long enough in our vocabulary to warrant a seat in the Hall of Fame of Words yet, like Phat; which we all know means someone who is fat spoken by someone with a lisp. These words have been around and I think we need to try to revitalize them. Come on, weave them back into your daily vocabulary. It'll be bitchin.

I remember a morning.

I remember where I was.

It was about 6:20am and I was about four miles into my bike ride to work. It was dark with the sun just starting to color the horizon a deep blue. I was listening to the radio, country station, KNIX. I would like to call him a friend, but to be a friend we would have to hang out together or at least borrow tools from each other and our lives didn't allow that much time together so I will simply call him a close acquaintance. We went to church together and he was one of two morning DJ's on the show that morning.



Its funny, what you remember, during those times when things go terribly sideways. The images of a bad movie that seems to stick in your brain and burned itself so deeply. When Kennedy died I was at the Turkey Farm with my kindergarten class. I can still see a turkey from that day.



First, it was a terrible accident; a plane hitting one of the tallest buildings in New York. It could happen; it had happened before. Stuff was always flying into buildings in that city, especially on a foggy day. But then the pictures were of a brilliant blue sky. The two on the radio-you could tell one was broadcasting while the other worked the TV and computer, relayed what they were seeing. There was confusion. It was unclear what was happening.

The ride seemed to grow dark again. I remember the head light to my bike, it was on.

I tried to increase my speed. I wanted to get to my room and turn on the television. What a terrible accident. I had three miles to go.

Then there was a second plane.

Being a former pilot, I knew enough to know something was terribly wrong. I had never heard the name Al Qaida before-never. By the time I got to my room and flipped on the TV, it was on every station. Fire trucks were like huge red salmon swimming up stream to the smoke. Cops were trying to remove thousands of people from a city that had no real plan for removing people quickly from a nightmare like this. This WAS the plan. It worked. Two buildings holding 75,000 were evacuated except for those who were above the impact sight.

I remember standing there watching and my mouth was open. But we all know it got worse.

Yeah, I remember a morning.