Perhaps out of spite since I still have my hair, my Dad sends the occasional photograph to keep me on my toes. The one that arrived in today's email wasn't so bad. I worked for St. Bonaventure Unversity Radio Station when I was in school in the Mezozoic era (the mid 80's). We were almost a big deal, had many leatherbound books on shelves of rich mahogany....mostly because the four commercial stations down there at the time played either country or "music of your life." The attached is a picture from a remote broadcast from the Olean Center Mall, so long ago that my hair was a uniform color of brown and the picture was only in black and white. Enjoy.



Another questionable fashion choice. 1984 was a kidney stone for such things.

Oh yeah, My eldest needed a baby pic for her senior page in the City Honors yearbook, so this is what is going in, apparently. Brace yourselves for a window into my decay.



She's the clean shaven one....

A man and a woman started to have sex in the middle of a dark forest.

After about 15 minutes of it, the man finally gets up and says, "Damn,
I wish I had a flashlight!". The woman says, "Me too, you've been
eating grass for the past ten minutes!"

I guess at my core, I'm a bit of a romantic. The great book (and okay movie) Fever Pitch had a line about how immersing yourself in something bigger than you is good for the soul. That's not an exact quote but you get the idea. Essentially, it's healthy to forget all the intellectual bullshit that can bog down our days and let yourself ride a wave. Bear with me, dear reader. This thought reoccured to me on Tuesday night after being strung out from a long work day, a tough exercise session, watching a little of the returns, I finally dropped my exhausted self on to my bed a little after midnight.

Phone rang. It was an uncle from my ex's side of the family, euphoric with the election. He's a good guy and has waited nearly 70 years for a moment like Tuesday night, so I was happy to listen to the party for a couple of moments before he moved onto his next celebratory phone call. I hit the pillow and a few minutes later, off in the distance, I could hear some chemically serene young democrats whooping it up, packing as many syllables as is possible into chanting the new president-elect's surname. Part of me wanted them to hush up, part of me wanted to join in.

I think that is what drives people. It's what motivates people to sprint across Grant Park to get a space for everything. Not only do you want to be there for the speech itself, but the experience of being in the park, being part of shared moment is almost as important as the words coming from the podium.

We have family in DC and my ex hatched a plan to take our three troublemakers down in January to witness the big moment. I felt like the Grinch when his heart grew three times when my eldest asked her Mom "Can Dad come with us?" Seriously, moi? I must be doing something right. That too will be one of those transcendental moments.

I was thinking when I was working the Bills games that there was no fun in rousting drunks (which apparently I was pretty good at) or settling seat disputes. The fun came in the silly high fives from goofy strangers, the fist bumps from players' moms, the food offers from tailgators after the games. There are, of course, copious amounts of assholes and knuckleheads in those lots, but there are folk too who are just savoring the moment, losing themselves somewhat in that moment. That's finding unabashed joy on a very minor scale in comparison, but I could see people seeing the forest for the trees on Tuesday Night.

It was a grand unshackling, made all the better by the sense of community in a place where 40 years earlier the same location was such a scene for conflict. It's only a first step, to be sure, but the footprint runs deep.

I actually heard voting described as that this morning while waiting to vote. That made it sound like it didn't matter who you voted, provided you were polite about it. I vote at the Senior Citizens home on Richmond and Summer and it was jumping (so to speak) at 7:30. Glad I went early as they had an unusual line of about 15 people, but they moved quick. Since I was done in short order, I swung by Spot where they were out of coffee? What the hell was that about? Nobody could think to put another pot on with the line to the door?
Geesh!

I think of all the pundits, commentators, reporters who will struggle with finding something interesting to say today. (e:Zobar) 's footnote about the party lineup on the ballot was the first useful thing I've read in weeks.

In lieu of hearing "with 2.5% of the vote counted, we project Guam to be going to...", I think I'll be a no spin zone until after class tonight.

I think if it wasn't for Tom Reynolds, nobody would give a rats ass about Chris Lee or Alice Kryzan. It will be nice when both the national wallets of the democrats and republicans dry up in that regard.

Let's make Joe Mesi and Mike Razenhoffer settle it in the ring.

Shouldn't Dennis Delano have to say something to somebody to get a vote?

Shouldn't Dale Volker be forced to acknowledge that his being in Albany for 30+ years is part of the problem that he is promising to fix? "Vote for me so I can get myself fixed." That's a promise I could almost endorse.

Did Jon Powers ruin it for my political future?

Nobody had enough money to take on Louise Slaughter or Antoine Thompson? That's sad.

Will Keith Olbermann or Bill O'reilly have anything to talk about next week?

Is there cheaper tv out there somewhere?

There's a lot on my mind....

Been a bit of a downer with another memorial mass today. It was a beautiful service for a good guy at the UU Church on Elmwood. He had a broad enough reach that the place was literally full to overflowing. I found myself standing on the top step of the choir loft to be inside. He was a pretty good friend who had a great appetite for life and knew just the right wine for the occasion. His sons talked a little and I have tremendous admiration for both young men. They were moving, funny, and very poised in front of what might have been a little over 800 people. I don't know if I could do the same. It was truly a worthy sendoff for a true man of the people. Every service should end with "Into the Mystic." You can let go and be hopeful at the same time, no mean trick that.

Helped a good friend move on Saturday and I'm still paying for it (my rationalization for skipping yoga today). A countless series of laps up and down her three stories, culminated in my lugging up a sideboard. Said sideboard spanked a relief map of what vaguely looks like a relief map of Michigan into my left shoulder. Woke up this morning feeling a little beat up. Walk, snap, crackle, walk, fuck!

Missed the hoo-ha at the 24 to be a good guy. I wanted to be there, but I got dolled up as a zombie to escort my young son and a few cohorts up and down Anderson and Lexington. A nice houseparty followed, complete with a firedancer. That was pretty awesome. Met up with some old friends and staggered home around 12:30 where the Zombie makeup was looking a little too permanent. Don't worry, picture to follow.

Hope everybody had a great one, I'll see you for new year's if not before.