Looking Like a Kid at Christmas

I’m still looking for the image of me in my red Indians jersey. But the search has uncovered snapshots I had totally forgotten Not to mention the actual events pictured.

Here I am holding my new firetruck. There was a period when I was between three and five years old in which I was obsessed with firetrucks. I was fortunate, because there was an auxiliary firehouse on my street. It was used to store a spare truck and my mother had access to the building. She tells me she could just open the man door to the garage and I would be transfixed, staring at the truck. I still remember the smell of the rubber and canvas on the hoses. And the spiders. Good times.

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Looking Like A Cowboy

But why stop at one embarrassing picture? If I am looking at this Christmas picture correctly, I seem to have a toy gun in my hand. Can you even BUY a silver-plated toy cap gun anymore? I think I am wearing cowboy Jammies. I’m guessing this was about 1969 or 1970.

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Looking Like A Televangelist

Here is the deal. The Indians are having a throwback weekend and making it 1977. I kind of wish I was going on Sunday to have my son get a crooked C batting helmet. Just like the one my brother Drew got for me when I was a tyke back in the day. I don’t have a picture of me wearing it. Somewhere I have a picture of me in the red jersey. I’ll rummage through my hard drive and post it someday. For now you will have to settle for the Easter threads, 1977. At least my sister looked presentable.

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Nadir of news

The local and national television and radio news media has accomplished what I thought was nearly impossible. They have caused me to regard them with even lower esteem. The tragedy at Virginia Tech is being exploited beyond belief. Please tell me, WKYC, why you send an anchor to Virginia to cover the story? What can you possibly add that better informs your Cleveland audience that you could not accomplish from the studio and wire reports? It is sensationalism, even if your motto is “Respect. Report”.  To be fair, I do not even watch the other local stations, they might be even worse.

I started a blog nobody read…

That is a good song by The Sprites. It describes the vast majority of blogs that exist, I am convinced. Not that this is really a problem, exactly. Perhaps all the folks pouring hearts out in the ether is a safety valve of some sort. I am not one to share my deepest hopes, dreams and fears. This is particularly true in a medium that is as private as a post card. A post card that is reproduced on the gigantic screens in Times Square.