High School Basketball

For the last ten years or so, I have spent November through March going from one gym to another watching basketball games. My son began playing when he was seven years old. At times I complained about having to go to a game, there were things I needed / wanted to do, but I went anyway. I guess I figured if I did not go I would regret it some day.



John graduated last May and this is the first season he is not playing and the first season I do not have to attend games. I was surprised by a sadness I had because of this. I know the sadness goes beyond merely basketball and has something to do with my son growing up, but I still missed not being a part of this season.



Tonight, John called me at work and asked if I wanted to go with him to the Covington High School game. I jumped at the chance. I was not going to watch my son play, I was going with my son to watch his old team play.



As soon as we entered the gym, people recognized John. From players of teams, (a tournament was going on) to referees, to coaches, he was a celebrity. His old coach asked him to go with the team to the locker room for the pre game ritual. I know John was dealing with his own sadness. He commented how he wanted to play so bad he could not stand it.



I enjoyed sitting with my son watching the game. I tried to drink it all in. Here are some random observations about the game:



Entering the warm gym out of the brisk November air a man with a cash box takes my $6 for admission. I could smell popcorn and nacho cheese. The familiar bustle of gym activity was taking place. Kids in basketball warmups, cheerleaders, students, parents, and younger siblings all moving around, going about their tasks.



Tennis shoes squeak on the floor as the players stop, start, and cut. The piercing sound of the referee's whistle signals fouls and balls out of bounds. The rhythmic beat of the basketball being dribbled is a staccato heartbeat that draws attention to itself.



The crowd has energy and applauds or moans as the fates deal with their team. Coaches bark out advice - "would you set a screen," "we need some inside help here," and "come on ref." Players sit on the bench awaiting their turn to play. Parents in the stands wait for their son to get in the game. The scoreboard with two burnt out lights displays the score and keeps the time. Enjoy it while you may my friends, it all moves so quickly.



I am glad I went tonight. I am getting a taste of the transition of my son from boy to man. I like what I see. He makes me feel proud. I am proud because what I see in him is not me but him. He is becoming a person, independent, unique, and unfolding. I am blessed to be a father and to have him as my son.



I am both thankful and grateful for my son. I hope I have taught him half of what I have learned through him.



Until the next time

John Strain

The Best Toys

Maybe you have seen the comedy routine where the speaker says something like this:

These kids today. They don't know how good they've got it. Why, when I was a boy, the only toy I had was an old brick. My dad painted wheels on it and told me it was a toy car. I was damn glad to have it too.

I guess with the approaching holidays I was indulging my sense of nostalgia again. My mind drifted to Christmas's past and I recalled toys I had received. I thought about the money spent and how quickly I lost interest in them. I watched the commercials and wanted what they were selling. Kids fall for the advertiser's BS and ignore their parents counsel. I was no different. My son had every toy you could imagine before he wanted it. His room looked like a Toys R Us and it became difficult to think of something to buy him for Christmas and birthdays.



My parents were more like the comedian. Growing up during the Great Depression, the toys they had were usually homemade. As I continued to indulge my sense of nostalgia I remembered some items from my past that were virtually free. I will tell you about a few of them here:

• The Box: Our family purchased a freezer when I was about 10. The box it came in became a fort for me and my friends. We cut windows out of the side, but left them attached so we could swing them open like shutters. We camped in that box many nights. There was enough room for two sleeping bags overlapping a bit. Everything we needed was in that box. Food, flashlights, sling shots for protection, and other secret boy stuff. All good things come to an end and my dad wanted the driveway back so the box had to go in the trash pile. The garbage man never got it though, one of my friends was last seen dragging it down the street to his yard.



• Wrapping Paper Tube Swords: Nothing like a good sword fight if you are a boy. It is even better if the worst pain is from a wielded cardboard tube. They afforded the would be knight the luxury of swinging as hard as he wanted without inflicting much pain. We had some great times wailing away on each other. More than one sword fight was broken up by someone's mother afraid we would put out an eye.



• Paper Airplanes: This sport only required a piece of notebook paper. A group of boys, being competitive as they are attempted to make an airplane that would fly the farthest or do the best tricks. We experimented with different sizes of paper and various folding techniques. Sometimes we would have airplane wars or play airplane tag. At any rate, once we got to making paper airplanes, we could be at it for a couple of hours.



• Newspaper Knives: The next best thing to a cardboard sword fight is a newspaper knife fight. Knife fighting required different skills. A sword wielder could win on finesse, but the knife fighter needed some strength. It was fun to catch your opponents wrist as he was attempting to stab you then take the knife away from him and do him in with his own blade. The loser always screamed and fell down dead. Great fun, but once again, someone's mother afraid of us putting out an eye often ended the fun. At least they tried. If a mother stopped the fun we just moved it to someone elses yard until their mother got involved.



• Paper Football: I bet everyone has played this game, especially in school. One only needs a piece of notebook paper. The football is created by folding the paper into a triangle. The object of the game is to flick the ball to the edge of the table and have it stick over the table edge without falling off. This game can be addictive.

I think the bottom line here is kids are going to have fun. If they do not have fancy, store bought toys, they will find some way to have fun. Play comes from within like anything worth anything at all.



I might add that as boys grow up they really do need money to have fun. I cannot fashion a box into a computer or big screen TV, but I am willing to donate the box my "big boy toy" comes in to some 10 year old boy to enrich his life like it did mine. I am all heart that way.



Until the next time

John Strain

House of Blues: Gospel Brunch

The House of Blues in New Orleans is in the southwest section of the French Quarter. A favorite night spot for tourists and locals and host to many good concerts. It is a well run first class venue to attend concerts and just to have a good time. I have seen Hall and Oates, Peter Frampton, Buddy Guy, and then some. Sunday though, I attended my first Gospel Brunch and I am going back again.



This place has an energy about it. They must look for it when they do their hiring. I started out at the bar ordering bloody marys for the gang. The bartendress asked me if I wanted a bloody mary with Absolut vodka or the rot gut stuff. I told her that I would start with the Absolut and switch over when my taste buds could no longer distinguish premium vodka from rot gut. The next question she asked was how hot I wanted them. After checking with folks, I ordered 4 hot, 2 not hot, and 1 mild. All of the wait staff walked briskly, they smiled, and were pouring mimosas as fast as folks ordered them.



There are three of these brunches on Sunday, 9:00 AM, 11:45 AM, and 2:00 PM. We attended the middle one. When we entered the concert area, there were tables set all over the place. The floor in front of the stage, usually empty, was lined with tables. All of the seats were assigned, so there was no rushing the door to get the best seat. The way it was configured, I do not think there was a bad seat in the house.



As soon as we found our seats, we were greeted by our waitress who gave us some info and poured the coffee and mimosas. We immediately went through a buffet line with jambalya, greens, potatoes, sausage, eggs, pastry, biscuits, gravy, Waldorf salad, carving station, you name it. Food was great. We sat at our seats eating and enjoying the atmosphere. We sat in the balcony directly in front of the stage. The spots swept around the auditorium casting the bright blue light and illuminating the hall in ever-changing interesting ways. Once we finished eating, the show started.



Unfortunately, I do not remember the name of the group that performed for us. It was a local group and very good. Funny how gospel singers are large. I do not believe I have ever seen a skinny gospel singer. Anyway, she was a lot of fun and not only sang the bulk of the songs, but featured people in her group. The crowd enjoyed the music. We waved the napkins on cue and clapped when we were asked to and had an all around good time. It is the kind of thing that makes you feel good to be alive and around a crowd of people. At one point in the show, the security guards off stage could be seen dancing to the music. it is the kind of music that grabs you by the nap of the neck and says, "dance." Most everyone there heeded that voice.



On the way out, the wait staff was busily cleaning and preparing for the next group of brunchers. They were yelling to each other, "One more show let's go." That is what I like to see, enthusiasm and effort to do your job well.



When my sister comes to New Orleans to celebrate her big 5 oh, we will certainly attend the gospel brunch. If you live near a House of Blues, check to see if they have a gospel brunch there - you won't be disappointed.

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If you want to see some photos of the House of Blues you can find them here. You will have to scroll toward the bottom of the page.

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My digital camera takes 12 sec. movies. I spliced a couple together in Final Cut Pro and made an mp4 movie which is about 3.7 mb. It should work with either Windows Media Player, Quicktime, or Real Player. The picture is pretty small, but you can get an idea of the music style.



Good music, good food, being with my friends - you can't beat it. I hope you get a chance to attend the Gospel Brunch yourself someday.



Until the next time

John Strain

Link for New Orleans Photos

Huge Ass Beers

If you have never been to Bourbon Street you are missing a unique experience. I remember the first time I was there. It was in the summer and the sun was slipping below the New Orleans skyline. The neon lights were on and soon they would illuminate the crowds of people wandering up and down this unique street. It is easy to say something like, "oh, it is disgusting and dirty. It glorifies alcohol and sex. There are disgusting looking people around and it is not wholesome entertainment." To do so though is to miss a lot of other things. Back to my first time there, I was bombarded with sights, sounds, and smells that were new to me. I was enchanted and mesmerized. I was taken by the fact this place has existed for so long and I knew nothing of it. I fell in love with New Orleans that night and my love remains. Like any city it is far from perfect. New Orleans certainly has its problems, but it has a soul and a pulse that has been beating for hundreds of years. Pirates, plantation owners, slaves and soldiers - this city has witnessed and made history.



Saturday night we went walking on Bourbon Street after our dinner of shrimp and oyster poboys (big sandwiches on french bread). There are several kinds of people on Bourbon Street. The tourists are from anywhere in the world. They have heard of New Orleans and they are seeing it for perhaps the first time. The locals are there for similar reasons, but have an inside track on the good restaurants. Then there are the street performers. These folks do some kind of act or have some gimmick to trade for the tourist's money. America at its best - free enterprise. There are quite a few African American kids who tap dance for change. These kids are on random street corners or any place where people walk by. They often make their tap shoes by affixing bottle caps to the under side of their shoes. Outside of a bar featuring a live band these kids tap away and tourists throw their money as a sign of appreciation. You name it, mimes, clowns, magicians, they are all in the French Quarter and are an important part of the overall atmosphere.



One such gentleman had a sign saying, "Huge Ass Beers." He had quite a business, because people were all to happy to give him a few bucks to have their picture by the sign. At least we were. He was funny. The man had a thick Brooklyn accent and he went through a routine with us. He offered to take our picture using our cameras so we handed him our three digital cameras.

Him: Do you know anything about people from Brooklyn?

Us: A little.

Him: Well if you did you would know better than to give your expensive cameras to one. (he then acted like he was going to run away.)

Us: Ha,hahahahaha.

Him: Something else about people from Brooklyn, if anyone gives us trouble we say. . . (then he asks me to read what is on his neck, he leaned forward and moved his long hair out of the way exposing a big '4Q'.)

Me: 4Q?

Him: (indignant) Fork me? Fork you! What do you mean saying to me 4Q?

Us: Hahahahahahahah hahahah.



He took the pictures, we gave him a few bucks and walked on. That is one minute on Bourbon Street. Music is everywhere from the bars to the street performers. One fades out as the approaching ones fade in. One's senses are taken on quite a ride.



I am going to get my photos posted and work on tomorrow's post. So tune in tomorrow to find out about the House of Blues Gospel / Jazz Brunch.



Until the next time

John Strain