Friday, July 18, 2008

A Day (5 Of Them, Actually - All Saturdays) In The Life



Saturdays in the life of me, at various ages.

AGE 10 (1967)



5am – I wake up. Realizing that it’s Saturday and that there’s no school, I literally bounce out of bed and hit the ground running. I take a pee and haphazardly brush some of my teeth. Going downstairs, I turn on the huge black-and-white Admiral television. While waiting for it to warm up, I feed the cat and then pour out a gigantic bowl of the now-defunct cereal, Quake. I drown the cereal in whole milk and also sprinkle three tablespoons of sugar on top of it, even though it’s already 50% sugar.

5:10am – I carry the enormous bowl of cereal to the living room, possibly spilling a bit along the way. It’s a cold summer morning, so I turn the thermostat up to 76. The TV is showing an Indian Chief test pattern. Turning the knob that changes channels, I find nothing but snow on any of the other three Boston stations. I settle down on the shag carpeting and eat the cereal, waiting for the fan-forced gas heat to come pouring out of the vent in the wall. I stare at the Indian Chief and wonder why he’s on the test pattern.

5:15am – The heating system makes the distinctive sound which tells me that the heat is about to come on. I get my body right up next to the vent in anticipation. The heat comes on. Ahhhhh! Nice! The cat, having finished her breakfast, comes into the living room and curls up next to me - and the heat.

5:20am – An announcer comes on and tells me what station I’m watching, how many megahertz they’re broadcasting at, and where they’re located. He has a distinctive and soothing baritone voice. I wonder if he owns the station and maybe, if I write to him, he’ll tell me why there’s an Indian Chief on the test pattern. Finishing the cereal, I drink the sugary sludge of milk from the bottom of the bowl while listening to the National Anthem and the Morning Prayer. Mom and Dad are sleeping soundly upstairs. They don’t get up until at least 9:30 or 10 on Saturday morning. I am king of the castle!

5:25am – Farm And Market Report comes on. It’s complete gibberish (but somehow soothing, anyway, because I know that something to actually watch will be coming on next.) I wonder if there are any real farmers in Boston, listening to this stuff and saying to themselves, “Corn ain’t gittin’ a good price today. I’ll wait fer next week t' sell it.”

5:30am – Public service program comes on, produced by UNICEF. It wants to tell me about dam building in Africa. I get up and switch the station, to see if any of the other channels have cartoons yet. Nope. It’s either UNICEF or test patterns. I watch a test pattern of (no doubt many glorious colors, but on our black-and-white TV, gray) bars for a minute or so, then decide that dam building in Africa isn’t so bad. While it plays in the background, I open a volume of the Golden Book Encyclopedia (Volume XIII, Rabbits to Signaling), a gift from my grandfather and my favorite set of books. This particular volume tells me all about the races of man (Caucasian, Mongoloid, Negroid) and shows a drawing of an Asian in colorful silk robe and funny tasseled hat in front of a pagoda, while a black man is tap dancing. A white man, meanwhile, is pictured in front of a Frank Lloyd Wright split-level with a neatly manicured lawn. He is sharply dressed in suit and tie, staring off into the middle distance as though the cure for cancer lies just beyond his square jaw and steely-blue eyes. I think caucasians MAY have been the target audience.

6:00amBoomtown comes on. While Rex Trailer and his sidekick, Pablo, are in the bunkhouse deciding what to do today, I go out to the kitchen and start mixing some Aunt Jemima batter to make pancakes. I put bacon in the frying pan.

6:10am – Popeye is saving Olive Oyl from Bluto. Meanwhile, I’m saving bacon grease in a tin can we keep on the kitchen counter. I have no idea why. I don’t remember us ever using that grease for anything. I guess we just didn’t want it down the drain. I pour pancake batter into the greasy pan.

6:35am – I take the bacon and stack of pancakes (smothered in maple syrup) out to the living room. I eat them while watching Rex and Pablo. I give a piece of bacon to the cat.

6:55am
– Rex and Pablo ride into Boomtown. I go get the newspaper that was just delivered on our front porch. I read the funnies and the Red Sox box score. My favorite player, Tony Conigliaro, hit a home run last night. The Red Sox are in first place for the first time ever in my entire life. The Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner Hour, The Wacky Races and Tom & Jerry await me.

The world is a miraculous place full of laughter, friendly well-fed cats, good things to eat, fan-forced heat, interesting people, loving parents, and the promise of a sunshiny day playing baseball with friends. I couldn’t possibly ask for more.

AGE 20 (1977)

7:15am – The radio is playing something by Barry Manilow. I roll over, curse the DJ, and shut it off. I light a Kool and lay back in my bed, smoking. I then realize that it’s Saturday and I don’t have to go to work. I sit up on the edge of the bed and roll a joint. My Mom and Dad have been divorced for about five years now, and my Dad is out of town on a business trip. I figure to carry a steady buzz all day, but I especially want to be stoned for the Saturday morning cartoons. Being stoned gets me closer to how I felt when I was a kid and watched them. Not completely, but closer than when I’m straight.

7:25am – Get out of bed, take a pee and brush my teeth. Go downstairs and put the heat under the coffee. While waiting for it to warm up, I go out on the back porch and smoke the joint. Go back in and pour the coffee, adding three teaspoons of sugar and a lot of cream. Feed the cat (a different one) and then go to see if the newspaper has been delivered yet. It hasn’t.

7:40am – Flip around through 20-or-so channels on cable. The best thing available is Boomtown, with Rex Trailer and (now) Sergeant Billy. A Popeye cartoon comes on. Popeye is still beating up Bluto and eating spinach. The spinach looks delicious. I realize that the buzz is creeping up on me.

7:50am – Mix pancake batter and put bacon in frying pan. I decide I can’t wait that long. Put pancake batter in refrigerator. Leave bacon in frying pan. I can heat it up later. Eat cold leftover egg foo yung.

7:55am
– Eat cold leftover egg rolls and pork strips in living room while flipping through channels. Hear big crash from the kitchen and then see the cat come running by with half-cooked bacon hanging from his mouth. Go out to the kitchen and mop up grease from the linoleum. Stop cursing only when I hear the Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner theme song start playing. Yay!

8:01am – Laugh like a loon as Wile E. Coyote gets caught in one of his own traps.

8:02am - I then begin to wonder if Wile E. Coyote has a charge account with ACME. How does he buy all that crap? Why doesn’t he just have a side of beef shipped to him and save himself all this trouble? And what does the ACME delivery guy think when he carts a crate of birdseed, a see-saw, and a two-ton weight to the middle of the desert and a coyote signs for it?

8:03am – Laugh like a loon as Wile E. Coyote gets hit on the head with his own two-ton weight.

8:04am - Smoke another joint.

8:23am – Come to realization that there is only one Pepe Le Pew script, recycled for each new cartoon. Heavy, man!

9:00am – It’s another hour until The Three Stooges come on, so I plug in my bass and put Master Of Reality on the record player. My band has a gig tonight, so this counts as practice. Halfway through Children Of The Grave, I hear the newspaper hit the front porch. I unplug the bass, shut off the record player, and go get the paper. I read the funnies slowly, admiring the artwork. I read the Red Sox box score and then it’s time for The Stooges.

The world is a miraculous place full of laughter, larcenous cats, good things to eat and smoke, interesting coyotes, loving (if absent) parents, the promise of a day watching baseball on TV, and an evening of being on-stage playing rock-n-roll, with an order of sex and drugs on the side. I could ask for more, but I’m not that greedy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

AGE 30 (1987)

11:05am – The radio is playing a paid program about bowel cleansing. I realize I’m awake. I have a vicious headache. My head feels as though someone filled it with shredded brown paper bags and then lit them on fire. My nose is clogged beyond belief and there’s a spot of blood on my pillow.

I remember that – again - I have spent every penny of my paycheck on cocaine and vodka. I have no desire at all to leave my bed, but my Dad is downstairs and he hasn’t seen me since Thursday evening. He probably waited up until 2 or 3 in the morning, hoping to hear me pull into the driveway safely, but then gave up and went to bed. The least I can do is drag myself downstairs, force a bleary-eyed smile, and try to eat a bite or two of the lovely breakfast he’s cooked – and for which I have absolutely no stomach.

I light a Kool and shuffle into the bathroom. I pee, dark yellow and foul smelling. I brush my teeth, but it doesn’t help much. I climb into the shower and turn on the hot water full blast. I stand there, letting the steaming water hit me, hoping to quell the headache somewhat and loosen the crap in my nose. My father waits patiently downstairs.

I have a dead-end job and an ongoing dead-end relationship. The only thing I look forward to doing is drugs. I sometimes enjoy playing softball, but half the time I’m coked up when I’m doing that, too. I haven’t played the bass more than three or four times in the past year, and I haven’t been in a band in ages. I don’t give a damn about the Red Sox or anything else. The funnies aren’t funny any more and the latest cat just died from feline leukemia.

The world is a place full of times to endure until I get more money for drugs. I have the promise of a day filled with lying on the couch, blinds drawn, feeling guilty. The only reason I don’t want to die is because I’m already dead. I wouldn’t ask for more because I don’t deserve it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

AGE 40 (1997)


7:00am – The window is open and the birds are singing. It’s sunny, but cool. I realize it’s Saturday and I don’t have to work today. I get up, go take a pee, and brush what’s left of my teeth. MY WIFE is still asleep. I have a doubleheader this morning at Smith Field in Brighton.

7:05am – I light a Kool and sit in my underwear, going over the scorebook from the season thus far. I’m the manager of the Bombers, a good group of guys to play ball with. I’ve played ball with them on Saturday mornings since moving to Watertown in 1994. Today we play at 9am. I’ll be at the field by 8am. I’ll have 15 minutes, at least, until anyone else shows up. It’s nice to sit there in the cool morning, listening to the birds singing, doing some light stretching and imagining all of the possibilities that the day might hold in store.

7:15am – I finish my cigarette, strip down, and hop into the shower. I turn on the hot water full-blast, letting it wash over my body, loosening my muscles. While standing in the shower, I reflect on how much my life has changed this decade.

I have a good job, which I got as a result of having gone to broadcasting school. I’m off of drugs. I play softball in two different leagues full of good people. Best of all, I’m married to a beautiful and supremely funny woman.

My Dad is dead. He died three years ago. I was clean and sober, and pretty much had my act together, long before he passed away. I thank God for that. If he had died while I was still an asshole, I would now have unbearable guilt. At the time of his death, though, he was proud of me and of what I had worked to become. I had a chance to pay him back for some of those times he stayed awake worrying with a broken heart.

I’m sporadically playing the bass again, as well as keyboards. I also have a collection of other odd instruments, courtesy of MY WIFE. She gives me one every Christmas. I have a thumb piano, a chanter, a triangle, an ocarina, a ukulele and a tongue drum. Someday, I’ll get my act together and make a recording using all of them.

12:15pm – I stop and buy a newspaper on the way home from the game. When I get home, MY WIFE asks me how we did. She likes it best when we split, because then she thinks everybody is happy. Silly woman! After a shower, I settle in, reading the funnies and checking the Red Sox box score. Later today, we’ll go out for Chinese food with my Mom and stepfather, Bill.

The world is a miraculous place full of laughter, good things to eat, lovemaking, caring relatives, good friends and co-workers, and the promise of many more years playing fast-pitch softball. There’s no cat, because MY WIFE is allergic. I’ll take that trade any day.


AGE 50 (2007)

7:15am – I started writing this blog entry.

1:00pm – I’m finishing it up now. I’ve taken breaks for coffee and cigarettes, to talk to MY WIFE, to eat some leftover sushi, and to play the bass a bit. Still no cat, but later on I’ll watch the Red Sox play some Tigers. This evening, we’ll probably watch Pirates Of The Caribbean. I got it from the library when I returned Shrek 2, which we watched last night. I've got new teeth (implants) that are way better than the old teeth. We’ve got three air conditioners, two televisions (with 80+ channels of interesting stuff on cable), all the food and drink we could possibly want, 49 teddy bears (or reasonable facsimiles thereof) and I have - at the very least - 10 more sunshiny days of playing fast-pitch softball to look forward to this year.

The world is a miraculous place, indeed.

****************************************************************

I originally published this piece in July of 2007. A year later? All good. And, amazingly enough, there are still 6 to 15 games of fast-pitch softball waiting to be played (depending upon whether we make the playoffs and how far we go in them.)

Miraculous? That doesn't even begin to do it justice.

Soon, with more better stuff (which is what God keeps telling me, and sometimes I listen.)

47 comments:

david mcmahon said...

G'day Jim,

It's posts like this that remind me the world - as you put it so aptly - is a wonderful place.

Hey, where's the photo of you, aged 30?

Just got back home after a great trip and am trying to catch up in BlogLand ....

Ex-Shammickite said...

You're a damn lucky geezer to have survived this long. And to have found a nice lady to be your wife. Congratulations.

mlh said...

50? You don't look a day over 30. Honest!

Suldog said...

David - Thankfully, there are precious few photos of me from that time period. I actually would have put one up, but none I found really illustrated the words.

Ex-Shammickite - I will have to check out your place, if only to find out just what in hell your name means :-)

Yes, very blessed. And, you're the first person to ever call me a geezer. That's cool, actually. One of my favorite bass players is Geezer Butler, as might be divined from reading this piece.

MLH - You are too kind, as always. Perhaps all the drugs and alcohol somehow acted as preservatives.

Stu said...

First, I remember this piece from last year - it was great then, it's great now.

Second, how was your birthday? Get any cool gifts?

Third, my wife smokes Newports.

Fourth, you really should get back into music - get an acoustic guitar and start playing - maybe write some songs about your life.

Sarah said...

Great post. I love your outlook on life, and that you found the strength to turn your life around.

"I could ask for more, but I'm not that greedy" just about sums life up for me. I have so much more than I deserve...

Suldog said...

Stu - 1 - Thanks, bro.
2 - My birthday is always cool. It's in March. Hah!
3 - Newports are what Kool smokers buy when Kools aren't available - and vice-versa, probably.
4 - I still have my old bass, and a better one. No amp, but I still play 'em. Yes, they make sound without an amp :-) I still write songs, but only in my head.

Sarah - Strength comes in many packages. Most of mine came from other people. On my own, I'm very rarely one to tell temptation to go away.

endangered coffee said...

As good as it was last year! Think I might have made this comment last year as well, you gotta try to lay of the smokes, cuz I want to see pics of you at 60 and 70.

Janet said...

This was wonderful. Thanks for rerunning it. We had fan-forced gas heat too. I haven't been warm since. I might be able to match you decade for decade, but I could never do it so eloquently.

CrazyCath said...

Jim that is one of the most honest, touching, real posts I have read in a long time.
You have much to be proud of.
Heck. I'm proud of you!
A real man. :0)

As David said - where's the photo?
Keep smiling - the world is a wonderful (and miraculous) place.

[Let us know if you find Mark again.]

CrazyCath said...

Doh! *slaps head*
Just read down the comments and saw you answered David re the photo.
I just saw David's comment because it's to the left of where I type my comment so caught my eye...

Suldog said...

EC - I'm trying. But, then again, I usually am.

(That's a weak joke, but the best I could come up with just before lunch. Perhaps I'll have better after I've eaten.)

Janet - Thank you for the kind words. Yes, once you've had fan-forced gas heat, nothing else compares. It's the best.

CC - Quit slapping yourself in the head. It's a lovely head and the only one you've got - so far as I know, anyway.

Ex-Shammickite said...

you can add me to your canada list on the left, if you like.

Suldog said...

Ex-Shammickite said...

"You can add me to your Canada list on the left, if you like."

Indeed, I'd like to. You have a fun and interesting blog. However, since I haven't stated this policy lately, let me do so while this opportunity presents itself.

Every link I list on my sidebar is of someone who both amuses me AND has provided a link to me in return - whether a continuing one or a semi-regular recurring one. Any time I find that someone has linked to me, I try to thank them and provide the same in return.

When any of my blogging buddies have not posted in 30 days or more, I remove the link to another section reserved for such folks. If, after another 30 days, they haven't posted, it is time for the link to be disabled. Such is life.

On the rare occasion when someone with whom I have linked does something that really and truly rankles me, I remove the link. This has happened once that I know of.

Generally, the listing order is from oldest friend to newest friends, with those folks who were "relegated" at one time, but now posting again, being added to the bottom when they return.

If someone is amazingly good, or amazingly related to me, I may give them a stand-alone link.

Thus ends the anal tutorial on Suldog's Linking Policies.

So, I'm more than happy to add you, as I said, but I'll be looking for some link-love in return, please :-)

Sandra Ree said...

Oh Sul! So many memories reading this post. When I saw the first photo of you it made smile and smiled I did until age 30...again with the memories. I LOVE this post. You my man, are very lucky indeed to find a life partner that apparently is your soul mate. Lucky you, lucky her!

Oh, and I always knew you were a "Kool" kind of guy! :)

Suldog said...

SR - The more we trade commentary, the more it seems we may have shared quite a few "times", though not in the same place :-) Cheers!

Buck said...

As all the others said: Excellent post. The progression in your life, your fall, and your ultimate redemption is just waay-cool. Good on ya for having the strength to get clean and sober.

I wish I had the balls to talk honestly about the darker side of my past... but I don't, so veiled hints are all you'll get at EIP on that subject. Maybe some day...

Suldog said...

Buck - It's not so much balls as it is a total disregard for societal propriety. Or stupidity. Since I can't figure out which, it must be the stupidity. D'Oh!

Twinkie said...

I agree. Great post. I think it's so cool to be able to read about someone's life story.
Being a kid nowadays, I find it funny when you say things like, "While waiting for it to warm up..." when I've lived with almost instant gratification technology my whole life.

Also, I don't know about Quake, but I know my mom still buys Quisp from our local Dollar General. They have a bunch of old cereals and candys from back then. Not that you're old, or anything. :::cough, cough::: lol

I think the world is a much better place because of people like you.

-Twinks

PS - I like the way you used the pictures to illustrate your life, but that one of you at 20 is a bit disturbing... :::twitch:::

Thimbelle said...

Pay no attention to Twinks comment... As her mother, I can tell you that anyone over the 21 is "ancient". That makes folks in our age bracket doddering old geezers for sure!

And, hey! I may not remember much else, but I remember this post! It is one of my faves; it really tells us about *you*.

Now, your next post should be all about SURPRISES, and how VERY WELL you handle them!!!

:::ducking and running:::

Thim :)

Chucka Stone Designs said...

Oh man I can't get over the fact that your family had the fat can too. Did you use the old coffee can for it? My Grandmother had one, it was the single most vile smelling thing when that lid was removed but to this day when we cook bacon I still look for the fat can. We were all pioneering environmentalists I swear :)

I am very interested in the 10 years between 87 & 97. Sounds like you took quite a downward spiral for a long time there. The great thing then was to read between 97 & present day and how you pulled yourself out of it and are again up at dawn and appreciating the simple miracles in life like love, sunshine and a great game of baseball or softball. Terrific read.

Chucka Stone Designs said...

Oh & PS Happy birthday :)

lime said...

ok, your picture at age 10 looks eerily like my husband at that age. i was one of those nerdy types who read the encyclopedia for pleasure, i am allergic to cats, and i own a thumb piano and an ocarina. i'm giggling at the encyclopedia and weird instruments being a commonality.

this is just such a wonderfully written piece. it's a clear window into your life and soul. i'm so glad you've shared this again because i wasn't reading you this time last year and i'd hate to think i'd have missed this.

Michael Leggett said...

Fabulous Story, Jim:

My 2000th Post is up-Join The Party with a Comment.

porch blinds blog said...

Good Day.

Jim, I can;t believe you remembered all those stuff. I'm nobody familiar in this blog o' yours but I can't help but make this comment.

I must be amazed at your memory or is it just me getting old with remembering things?

Jack and Joann said...

I like stories with a happy ending!

Chris Stone said...

Great read! you got up at 5 a.m. when you were 10? you must've been an unusual child!

in the comments you said you were trying to stop smoking? i'll pass on a book recommendation that Jenn (Random Lunacy) made. "the easy way to stop smoking" by allen carr. (I only say stuff like that when people first say they are trying to quit. I know its frustrating. but the book supposedly helps.)

Anonymous said...

for me the photo of you at age 10 is how I remember you. we had just graduated Miss Hickey's class 5th grade Gilbert Stuart. she is one of those very special people you tend to remember all your life - probably the same for you I guess. I laughed out loud several times reading this particular blog just as I had last year when I first read it. Not only because it is just damn funny but my life went the very same pattern for much of it. Thanks for the memories.

Hilary said...

Wonderful post, Sully. As a kid, Saturday mornings were reserved for the young. Television possibilities were endless. And those Golden Book Encyclopedias.. I read through them until the cellophane laminate peeled off. Thanks for the well-illustrated, well-documented account of your Saturday mornings.

Ex-Shammickite said...

OKay mate, you got added!
And I'm glad you don't take umbrage at being called a geezer, some of my best friends are geezers.

Jack and Joann said...

Gee, in the first photo you look like ron Beasley from HARRY POTTER!

Rich said...

You look like Opie Taylor in that first photo. And you know who Opie Taylor was.

Jeni said...

Probably because I tend to remember things that happened 40, 50 (and more) years ago better than I do what happened five minutes ago, I love reading pieces like this. But holy rip man, how could you remember what you did on Saturday mornings at age 10 with such detail?
Although I never indulged in the cocaine thing, did try weed twice in my life (but was too scared I think of getting busted so I never went any further with that) but I have on way more occasions that I care to remember awakened very bleary-eyed, probably still somewhat intoxicated, and it may have been a Saturday a.m. or could just as easily been a workday morning too! I wasn't exactly particular about what day of the week I over-indulged -more likely, every day. Amazingly, today, though I still enjoy a brew now and again, I feel no need to drink myself in to oblivion. For that I'm quite grateful. Such a great post though -brought lots of other memories to the fore-front for me too!

Sandra Ree said...

Hey, congratulations on "Post of the Day" on authorblog!

Very well deserved! :)

Suldog said...

Hey, Twinks:

Glad to hear from you. I am very grateful to you, your mom, and your dad for helping Dorothy.

Of course, I've been following your story for some time now. I'm always happy to hear about the good stuff, and I say a prayer whenever I hear about anything not so good. In any case, I'm always rooting for you. Things I've seen in my life are nothing compared to some of yours.

Hey, I was hot stuff when I was 20! Well, at least compared to when I was 30, or 40, or 50, or...

Jim (Suldog)

Suldog said...

OK, I must clear something up. I appreciate "Happy Birthday" wishes, at any time of year, but my birthday is in March. I think Stu brought about a mistaken impression with his comment. He was just asking about something that wasn't entirely connected to this post, being the nice guy that he is.

Suldog said...

Just one more comment, then I must be getting on with actual work.

I am extremely grateful for the response to this piece. I certainly have some lovely folks coming here and reading my stuff. I thank you, one and all.

As for filling in the gaps in the piece, some of them are sprinkled here and there among my archives. I'm hoping to someday put much of this together in chronological order, in a form that will make it easier for those who prefer things to flow (rather than jump skittishly.)

Anything else? No, not just now. I'm sure I'll come up with something else important, something that I should have said, as soon as I post this. That's just the way it goes with me, and I apologize :-)

CrazyCath said...

I just had to come back to say congrats on POTD. It really is worth the recognition it gets. It's not just your life you wrote you know! There's a powerful message in there too.

Moannie said...

Suldog, I have nothing clever or funny to say, I just love your blog and this one is wonderful. I've said it before but I'll say it again...je'taime. now I must read the others that I missed first time around 'cos I was not in blogland then.

Karen said...

This is a reflective and endearing piece of writing. So glad I found your blog. I'm waiting until closer to Christmas for your Christmas story.

Live and Learn the Hard Way said...

I am finally getting around to reading the archives of the blogs I try to follow daily. Yours are at the top of my list and this piece reminds me why that is so.

The Silver Fox said...

Hope it's not too disconcerting to get a comment on a post that's this old, but it's your own fault. You provided the link to it on authorblog, which is where I learned of your blog.

Our lives took very divergent paths, but your age 10 segment sounded so much like me, right down to the Boston TV stations. I lived about 50 miles from Boston, but they were pretty much all you could get, except for a UHF station in Worcester, and 9 in N.H. on a good day.

Oh, and I preferred Quisp to Quake. Other than that, the overdose of sugar in a bowl was a prerequisite for serious sugar fiends.

Your parents let you cook at ten???

Brutally honest view of yourself at 30. So glad you pulled out of it, and glad too that you did so before your dad died. Our lives are filled with "If only..." moments far too often.

Guess I've burned your ear (eye?) long enough. I'll be checking your blog out on a regular basis.

Glen said...

That is some journey - love the rockstar look you mad fool :-)

Jayne said...

LOL - nothing like a walk down memory lane. Tony Conigliaro. Wow. I remember liking him, too.
How do you ever remember this stuff? Espcially those lost 80s... we were, bad, bad, bad...

Suldog said...

Jayne - It's rather amazing, and depressing.

MY WIFE hears me rattle off stuff like this, and then she challenges me, "What are all of your cousin's names?" I then retire in defeat, grabbing a bag of cookies for consolation while passing the kitchen.

scireg said...

And why is there not photo by last period of your life?

Heidi Olivia Tan said...

As your new follower, I was really rattling around your blog, sampling various links, picking up on some of your recommendations, then I went to your Sunday Roast post and saw that this was your most significant post (at your count at the time), and jumping to it, I have to agree.

It's amazing, it's brutal. It's great writing.

Just coupla notes on your first two Saturdays: how sad that you had to trade a cuddly cat for a larcenous one. And the newspaper boy 10 years later was so much more tardy. 9am versus 6:55am. Despite the additional 17 channels, you still love the good old cartoons.