Author: mikeljohnston1 (Page 22 of 267)
I’m not sure when I began collecting ticket stubs, a hobby that is a recent victim of the digital era. Tickets are now distributed electronically, so it’s rare these days to get an actual one. I have a collector’s box mounted on the wall with a glass front that I drop such mementos into, a container in the master closet with movie tickets, and notebooks full of sports memories. A few are framed in my man cave. None of them are likely valuable to anyone else but me since they date back only to the 1980’s. I wish that I’d kept the stubs for the 1970s when I went to the majority of my concerts. I simply wasn’t sentimental at that time in my life.
I feel confident that I saw The Association live back in the early 70’s but I don’t have a ticket stub, or a date listed on my Concert Log that has grown to nearly 300 bands. I was thinking that they played for Homecoming at Albion College but the memory is faint. Their Greatest Hits album is part of my music playlist that keeps me entertained while running in the morning. These past few days, I’ve been reminded of their song, “Windy,” with gusts here in Florida expected to reach 50 mph sometime this weekend. I’ve cleared out the potential projectiles from our lanai in anticipation:
Windy
‘Who’s peekin’ out from under a stairway
Callin’ a name that’s lighter than air?
Who’s bendin’ down to give me a rainbow?
Everyone knows it’s Windy
Who’s trippin’ down the streets of the city
Smilin’ at everybody she sees?
Who’s reachin’ out to capture a moment?
Everyone knows it’s Windy
And Windy has stormy eyes
That flash at the sound of lies
And Windy has wings to fly
Above the clouds (above the clouds)
Above the clouds (above the clouds)
And Windy has stormy eyes
That flash at the sound of lies
And Windy has wings to fly
Above the clouds (above the clouds)
Above the clouds (above the clouds)
Who’s trippin’ down the streets of the city
Smilin’ at everybody she sees?
Who’s reachin’ out to capture a moment?
Everyone knows it’s Windy
Who’s trippin’ down the streets of the city
Smilin’ at everybody she sees?
Who’s reachin’ out to capture a moment?
Everyone knows it’s Windy
Who’s trippin’ down the streets of the city
Smilin’ at everybody she sees?
Who’s reachin’ out to capture a moment?
Everyone knows it’s Windy
Who’s trippin’ down the streets of the city
Smilin’ at everybody she sees?
Who’s reachin’ out to capture a moment?
Everyone knows it’s Windy
Who’s trippin’ down the streets of the city
Smilin’ at everybody she sees?
Who’s reachin’ out to capture a moment?
Everyone knows it’s Windy’
Songwriter: Ruthann Friedman.
The word “trippin” is a good indication that this song was written in the mid-1960’s. We rarely use that term anymore, as this particular song was categorized as Psychedelic Pop.” “Windy” rose to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in July 1967. It followed the popularity of their #4 hit “Cherish” in 1966. I was in high school in Elkhart, Indiana at that time, more worried about tornados than Florida hurricanes. Although our weekend gusts will hardly compare to Ian, certainly everyone knows it’s windy.
Years ago, I wrote a poem called “Bathroom Beast,” poking fun at my messy tendencies around the house. My tidy wife usually found a few things out of place whenever I left a room. (See Post #453). It was intended to be a children’s book, but I could not find an illustrator to do justice around the Pigwhalea character. Well, things haven’t changed, and I’ve since written a sequel called “Mikey’s Been There,” once again inspired by my wife, that I will introduce below, once I refresh your memory on the former silly classic:
Bathroom Beast
Pigs are messy,
Smelly and crude.
Happy in slop,
Rooting for food.
Whales are slimy,
Giant and wet.
Splish, Splash,
Have you got a net?
Pigs live in sties,
Whales in the sea.
Where did they meet?
How could this be?
Somehow it happened,
That two became one.
This mythical creature,
Weighs more than a ton.
Is it a whale?
With a pig’s snout.
It lives in our bathroom,
And I want it out.
It’s there every morning,
Don’t know where it hides?
Perhaps in the drain,
It boldly resides.
Snout or Spout?
Pink or Blue?
I’ve never seen it.
Have you?
Hogfish?
Moby Swine?
Pig-Whale-aaa,
Works just fine.
Water on the floor,
A ring around the sink.
Towels everywhere,
Don’t know what to think.
Clogged drain,
Counter all wet.
Help me get rid,
Of this unwelcome pet.
Puddles all around,
Not a dry spot in sight.
Little rubber ducky,
Are you all right?
Cap off the toothpaste,
Bottles askew.
Pigwhalea was here,
There’s clue after clue.
I’m very neat,
Each thing has its place.
I look in the mirror,
And see your face.
Brush out of place,
Cosmetics askew.
You’ve done all this,
Pigwhalea is Y-O-U.
Copyright 2010 johnstonwrites.com
Mikey’s Been There
You can always tell,
That Mikey’s been there.
Enter any room,
Only if you dare.
A cookie crumb trail,
Mess and clutter.
And those around Mikey,
Can only shudder.
There’s a Warning sign,
On the bedroom door.
Clothes scattered,
All over the floor.
Don’t trip over,
The broken toys.
It’s sadly true.
Boys will be boys.
Cabinet not shut.
Toothpaste in the sink,
Something out of place.
What do you think?
In the Living Room,
What’s that in the chair?
If Mikey’s been there,
It might be underwear.
The refrigerator’s open,
And a puddle down below.
Then Mikey’s been there,
You just know.
Dirt on the carpet,
Fingerprints everywhere.
It’s very clear,
Mikey doesn’t care.
Mikey doesn’t listen,
Mikey won’t learn.
He won’t get an allowance,
Respect he has to earn.
Do you have a Mikey,
At your house, too?
Look in the mirror,
It just might be you.
Copyright 2023 johnstonwrites.com
I provide these details so you can understand the poem that follows, a tradition on my family travels.
We arrived late Wednesday in Oakland after a minimal fog-related delay on our Delta flight. Following a good night’s sleep, we lunched at the Hog Island Oyster Company, took the ferry to Alcatraz, walked by Fisherman’s Wharf, rode the trolly up to Chinatown, and squeezed into a packed BART back Oakland, stopping by Arthur Mac’s on the way home for pizza to go.
Friday was equally busy, beginning with brunch and a wine tasting in Sonoma at Jacuzzi and then more wine sampling at Gundlach Bundschu. Dinner was at the house. Oh, and my body staged a gaseous revolt against the generic Whole Foods cola that they served me instead of my regular Diet Coke morning caffeine boost.
On Saturday morning, I met some college buddies at The Oakland Athletic Club and watched IU get humiliated by Auburn. Butler beat Cal in overtime on another overhead monitor as the Hoosier game tipped off. We then did some shopping in downtown Oakland and at a local Holiday Mart, had dinner at Jo’s Modern Thai, and watched the Pacers lose to the Lakers in the NBA’s inaugural In-Season Championship, followed by the movie, “Last Christmas.”
Sunday morning we enjoyed a Dim Sum brunch looking out over the Bay from the Hong Kong East Ocean Seafood restaurant. My son-in-law, Ben Lumm, then stood in line for two hours but failed to get a limited-edition BART Holiday Sweater. His wife, my wife’s daughter, was between 3-day shifts as a cardio PA. She had urged me to come to her Stanford employer for my upcoming heart surgery. The evening concluded with a bottle of Jacuzzi Montepulciano wine and games of Euchre and Code Names.
The girls went to Sausalito on Monday morning while Ben worked and I finished the book Unnatural Exposure by Patricia Cornwell. With my alarm set for a 2a run, we ate in and played more Euchre. Our first flight to Salt Lake took off on time at 6a, finally arriving home at 1:00a.
Oakland
Three flights there,
And three more back.
With barely enough time,
To do laundry and re-pack.
Time went by fast,
After gaining three hours.
Alcatraz Solitary,
Avoiding rain showers.
Pigged out at Hog Island,
Plus, Thai and Dim Sum.
Oakland hospitality,
From Ro and Ben Lumm.
Sonoma Wine Tasting,
And boy did it flow.
Met at AC with college buds,
But The Hoosiers didn’t show.
Rode the cable rails,
Up to Chinatown.
Stopped by Gumps,
And took BART down.
‘Last Christmas’ Movie,
Montepulciano and Port.
Binx was a hit,
But The Pacers fell short.
In line but no sweater,
After Holiday Mart.
Whole Foods Cola,
Makes me fart.
Maintained my streak,
Before morning light.
Working off more pizza,
From Thursday night.
Niners a winner,
Butler prevails.
Paint to dispose of,
The dishwasher fails.
Baking some brie,
New wreath on the door.
Mother and daughter,
Both I adore.
A poem about Mikey,
A night of games.
A family battle,
Of Euchre and Code Names.
Girls to Sausalito,
While I recap our stay.
Plane snacks and layovers,
As we fly home all day.
Our PA tried hard,
But not ‘leaving my heart.’
I’ll bring it back though,
For a fresh new start.
Copyright 2023 johnstonwrites.com
I’m taking a blogcation from posting over the next week or so, as we travel to Oakland, California. I’m leaving behind my computer but will make some notes on my phone to sum up the trip to see my wife’s daughter and husband. Most likely there will be a poem. We leave the house in the capable hands of Tally’s dogsitter, and catch a Delta flight out of
Fort Myers on Wednesday afternoon. I’ll have plenty of time on Wednesday morning to get my 2.1 miles in before we venture to the airport. A neighborhood friend is kindly picking us up at the house, dropping us at the airport and returning us on the 12th. We tried to talk her out of it since it’s such a late arrival back in Ft. Myers, but she insisted. Apparently, she has a friend in Ft. Myers that she wants to visit, but we don’t get in until 11:30p, and that’s barring any delays that will be likely on the three flights home.
It will be a long day on the 12th, leaving at 6a from Oakland after a very early morning run in the dark. This is always one of the challenges of running every day and maintaining the streak. It’s really 9a our time, but we will be well adapted to the Pacific Time Zone after a week of being there. I have plans to meet college friends on the Saturday after we arrive to watch the I.U. vs. Auburn basketball game from Atlanta. The city will be one of our stops on the way there and back. Hopefully, we’ll come back winners!
While I’m enjoying the I.U. game, my wife has plans to go to Chinatown and on other adventures with her daughter. As a cardio-thoracic PA at Stanford, I’m sure they’ll continue to discuss my upcoming surgery, while shopping for “Year of the Dragon” merchandise to use at our annual Chinese New Year Party that she hosts. They’ll also decide on restaurant choices, considering that our first pick recently burned down.
Today has taken on a relatively hectic retirement schedule. I Chauferred my wife to school early after finishing my morning run. Tally and I then went to the dog park, and I went on to get my holiday haircut and have my sore back worked on by the chiropractor. It still hasn’t healed since I clipped my toenails last week. Embarrassing enough, it was an old age related, reoccurring injury from bending over too long and pinching a nerve. At least, my shoulder has healed, so this gave the osteopath something new to work on. It won’t help being on a plane later this week, so when I get back home more adjustments will be necessary. This is why I’m on a maintenance plan with weekly visits because it’s always something.
For lunch, I’ll reheat some leftovers from our Big Bamboo “Date Night” on Saturday. Pad Thai should work for “Meatless Monday.” Tally gets another fortune cookie, while I enjoy (but can’t pronounce or spell) more of the Greek dessert delicacies that our neighbor down the street baked. I’ll then dutifully pick my wife up from school at three, where hopefully she won’t again be the victim of a vomiting child or have to deal with disruptive, unruly students. I certainly couldn’t do what she does, even though it is only part-time substitution. We both can’t imagine how full-time teachers maintain their sanity. She’ll unwind at her Aqua-Fit Christmas party this evening, as I’ll begin packing for Oakland.
Today was Race Day – my last 5k of this soon to expire running streak. What was the routine 3.1-mile distance just months ago was a bit of a push this morning as I finished on the warning track of Cool Today Park – the spring training home of the Atlanta Braves. It was my second Tomahawk 5k finish. I will return to 2.1 miles tomorrow, feeling a bit light- headed – one of the reasons I had cut back my mileage this past summer in anticipation of open- heart surgery. The 15-year streak will continue until January 15th, as months of recuperation will probably follow before I can start a new one. I had to laugh at myself as this now 72-year-old body slowly lumbered along the course, being passed by or never catching up to those older, younger, heavier, or even a woman limping along while wearing a boot. It took me 51-minutes to finish. Two years ago, I did it 8-minutes faster, earning my first of now two heavy medallions. At the end, I could barely pick my feet up, nearly tripping over the finish line strip at 249th out of 300 participants.
I’m not sure how a bad heart affects my breathing and performance, but something just isn’t right. I will certainly know the difference after that recovery period. It feels like a bit of a chore breathing in and out, but I may not even remember what normal was like after years of monitoring the aneurysm that may even date back to birth. I remember having trouble breathing as a child after spending weeks in a hospital oxygen tent with bronchitis. I haven’t really been sick since, but I should be in better shape after all the miles I’ve put in. I’ve noticed that the hardest part of even chair yoga is trying to synchronize air intake and output with exercise. This could be even psychological after learning about this heart issue years ago, even though I’ve had few other symptoms.
I didn’t sleep well last night, despite using Vick’s to help sooth my breathing. My wife often complains that I have some annoying breathing habits, including some occasional snoring. I was certainly wound up after watching I.U. basketball win their first BIG conference game against Maryland. It was their best performance of the season. I was also monitoring #1 Purdue in their loss at Northwestern, and still struggle with the IU-PU rivalry, despite a career connection with both schools. To add to the adrenaline, former IU quarterback, Michael Penix Jr. prevailed in a Heisman battle with Oregon. I should have been rooting for the Ducks, but I have some good memories of Penix, rare in IU football history. I remember his last second dive into the endzone pylon that gave the Hoosiers a key win against Penn State. I guess once a Hoosier always a Hoosier!
I should have been supportive of the Purdue Boilermakers last night, but I would have rooted against any team that might threaten the unbeaten season of 1976 Indiana National Champions. Their 32-0 record has now stood for 47-years as the last team to survive both the season and tournament without a loss. It’s meaningful for me to hold on to that glory for as long as possible, because all records eventually get broken, just like my streak. However, today I celebrate another successful Race Day.
On December 29, 2008, while living in Austin, Texas, I started my running streak. Today, was #5,450 without fail. The idea originated with the husband of a woman that my wife had just hired at the television station. We were having dinner and this fellow runner told me about an organization called The United States Running Streak Association (USRSA) and their website at www.runeveryday.com. I was intrigued when he recounted that on a recent business trip, he had forgotten to take his running shoes and was forced to go the distance (minimum of one mile) in his wing tips to maintain his streak. I had toyed with various streaks through the years and found satisfaction and motivation in trying to extend the timeframe of doing it daily, but nothing official.
My biggest challenge was always trying to determine which days to rest while training and struggled nearly every day with a mind game as to whether I should run or not. I had long gotten over distance challenges and needed a new approach. The idea of “just doing it” every day was appealing to me, eliminating the day of rest question, so I set a goal of one year, starting with New Year’s Day of 2009. As it turned out I couldn’t wait and began my streak a few days earlier. I would be rewarded one year later with a certificate of accomplishment and membership in the USRSA. One year led to two and soon will become fifteen.
I found that the first mile is always the toughest and just to be sure I would always extend it to at least 1.1 miles. I did not have a GPS when this started, so I wanted to be sure that I always achieved at least the minimum. Over the years it became 2.1 miles and eventually 3.1 miles daily. There were also some 10k races, as well as extensive distance training for the Hood to Coast Relay challenge in 2017. This past summer, I cut back to 2.1 miles due to the exhausting Florida heat. I estimate that during the course of this 15-year period, I’ve covered over 13,000 miles and written 323 blog posts about this journey.
However, the end of this streak and perhaps the beginning of the next one looms ahead due to heart surgery. January 15th will be my last day of this current streak with uncertainty as to when I can start again. I take my hat off to all of those that have somehow managed to go further and in most cases faster -up to more than fifty years without a day off. They’ve avoided serious injury, hospitalization, debilitating surgery, foul weather, hectic schedules, or simply forgetting to get at least a mile in every day. I was not as fortunate. For me, open heart surgery is the end of this road.
Three straight final game losses to Purdue sealed the inevitable firing of Indiana football Coach Tom Allen. I will miss his spirit on the sidelines and find the decision futile. I.U. will not only lose nearly 20 million dollars (nearly 400k for every loss) in the buyout but also flood the portal with transfer prospects. Will it do any good? No! Indiana is now nothing more than a soccer school (8 national titles and perhaps another in the works). Trophies for Swimming (6 straight), Basketball (5), Cross Country (3), Track & Field (1), and Wrestling (1) are now gathering cobwebs in the display case. Women’s Basketball has probably the greatest potential and football the least. A new coach is not going to make the slightest difference, especially considering that the program has had 29 different leaders since it began play in the 1887 season. Only six have led the Hoosiers to postseason bowl games, including Tom Allen who is now yesterday’s news.
1967 was the last Big Ten Conference football title under John Pont that led to the sole Rose Bowl appearance. They lost 14-3 to U.S.C. and O.J. Simpson. Starting next year, the Hoosiers and Trojans will become conference foes. If it weren’t for visiting Ohio State, Memorial Stadium would never be packed, and most of the regular I.U. fans would never leave the parking lot tailgates. When I was a season ticket holder back in the 80s, we defined today’s meaning of social distancing. One coach, Terry Hoeppner, sadly died before he was fired, while offensive coordinator Bill Lynch took over to lead the 2007 team to a 7-6 record and a trip to the Insight Bowl.
Back in 1957, Coach Bob Hicks went 1-8 in his only season for the lowest winning percentage of all time. At the other extreme, Coach Madison G. Gonterman lead the Hoosiers to 12-3 over two seasons (1896-7). Coach Bo McMillin had the longest tenure, lasting for 14-years, but Coach Bill Mallory led I.U. for the most games (149) that included six different bowl games. I traveled to two of those in these glory years (Liberty and Independence).
Coach Kevin Wilson resigned amidst “philosophical differences” in 2016 after a Pinstripe Bowl appearance in 2015. Allen replaced him, starting with the Foster Farms Bowl, his first loss of 49 total to Utah 26-24. His last loss was this past weekend’s Purdue game, a battle between two eight loss teams, where I.U. was flushed down the toilet, in what should have been coined the Tidy Bowl, and the losing coach removed from the job.
Arthur B. Woodford was the first I.U. football coach (1887-1888), followed by single season campaigns by Evans Woolen and Billy Herod. The team then went two seasons without a coach, compiling a 3-6-1 record. In 1894-5, with multiple coaches, they went 4-7-2, so show me where I.U. coaching matters! Some of the more recognizable coaching names for the Hoosiers, thanks to modern day broadcasting exposure, included Lee Corso (10 years), Sam Wyche (1), Cam Cameron (5), and Gerry DiNardo (3). This group combined for a pathetic record of 70-140-2. Other Hoosier losers included Coach Phil Dickens (1958-64: 20-41-2), Coach Bernie Crimmins (1952-1956: 13-32), Coach Clyde Smith (1948-1951: 8-27-1), Coach Earl C. Hayes (1931-33: 8-14-4), Coach Harlan Page (1926-30: 14-23-3), Coach Bill Ingrim (1923-25: 10-12-1), Coach James P. Herron (1922: 1-4-2), and Coach Clarence Childs (1914-15: 6-7-1).
Through the years there were a few winning coaches that should be recognized for achieving the nearly impossible at I.U. 1895 through 1913, four coaches totaled 80 wins, only 52 losses and 10 ties. The combo of Coaches Winchester Osgood and Robert Wrenn (1895) went 4-3-1, just before the afore mentioned winner, Madison G. Gonterman, took the helm. He was followed by Coach James H. Horn (1898-1904) who led the team to a 33-21-5 record over 7 seasons. Coach James M. Sheldon then won 35 games against 26 losses and three ties. It was truly the good old days. From 1916-1921, Coach Ewald O. Stiehm added 20 victories and one tie while losing only 18. That takes us full circle to Coach Bo McMillin’s 63-48-11 success from 1934-1947. If my math is correct, since that time, and just beyond my lifetime, fourteen coaches, all with losing records, have managed just 290 victories and 9 ties while losing 507 times. Who’s next?
I had another Hallmark moment, as I begin to write my own get-well cards. I will have to file it in the “Of Questionable Bad Taste” in my notebook. This one just took a few minutes to write after sitting in a file for many years. It simply needed a little inspiration, as I begin to plan for surgery.
Same Old Fart
“Get off my lawn,”
Just playing the part.
After passing seventy,
I’m now an old fart.
Don’t need a new hip,
Or even two knees.
But need a new heart,
Despite no disease.
I’ve skipped the small stuff,
Gone right to the top.
Jumped right into surgery,
Without even a hop.
They’ll make me bionic,
With some pig parts.
I’ll be like those heartless,
Grumpy Old Farts.
Then, they’ll work on my eyes,
To help me better see.
And tweak my prostrate,
So I can freely pee.
With all these changes,
I’ll still be me.
But a whole lot poorer,
After doctor fees.
They will poke and prod,
Make me pee in a cup.
Cut and paste,
Then stitch me up.
I’ll have to stop running,
Lifting heavy things.
Maybe the painkillers,
Will give me wings?
Recovery will be brutal,
As I show off my scars.
But better than the alternative,
So thanking my lucky stars.
Will this make me,
An even older fart?
Or will it give me,
A fresh youthful start?
Copyright 2023 johnstonwrites.com
We will hunger no more.
Because Sandy got us a free bird,
From BJ’s discount store.
Holly found the coupon,
And you drove for miles.
Loaded up the free bird,
After fighting grocery aisles.
And with no place to store it,
Holly saved Thanksgiving Day.
By getting you a second frig,
Too much sh*t was in the way.
Now you’ve got the space,
For more free birds next year.
And Karen will have more room,
To store some extra beer.
As we admire your new lamp,
And artwork on the wall.
We’ll finish off the free bird,
That wasn’t really free at all.
Then, we’ll have more pie,
And maybe one more drink.
And leave all your dishes,
Piled in the sink.
But the bird you can now freeze,
After we devour the rest.
And we want to thank you,
For making us your guest.
It was free for all of us,
Without the restaurant check.
A tryptophan nap will follow,
At the cost of free bird’s neck.
Without an Alka Seltzer,
This fullness I can’t tame.
But, please, don’t take it badly,
‘Cause Lord knows I’m to blame.
But, if I stay here longer, girl,
I know I will drink more.
‘Cause, I’ll be as free as that bird,
If I have one more pour.
Lord help me, I can’t change,
Pass the green beans bowl.
Just another bite of free bird,
Then weight loss my next goal.
And I will never change,
oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, me.
And with this bird there was no change,
Because it was free.
Lord, help me, I can’t cha-a-a-ange,
Lord, I can’t change.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Free bird, yeah!
Songwriters: Ronnie Van Zant, Allen Collins, and Mike Johnston