Still in N'awlins

We have been having the usual blast. I managed to drink one for everybody and a few extras. Just about to leave the hotel and head to the House of Blues Gospel Jazz Brunch. After that the trek north and home. I will watch the Chiefs beat Oakland, hopefully and write a proper blog about our fun. We got some great pictures and I have a story to tell about Bourbon Street.



Happy Sunday

John Strain

Secret Santa

We are doing the secret santa routine at work. I tried to ignore it, but was eventually roped in. As you probably know, names are placed in a container and everyone draws. Now, what is expected is the secret santa gives little gifts, anonymously throughout December. At the Christmas party, you give a final gift and the secret santa is exposed and everyone talks in a high voice and laughs and it is all sweet and - and - and probably more interesting for the ladies than the men. Well, I am a good sport, so I draw a name, no big deal. I drew one of the night nurses, so it will be easy to slip her a gift. I can be secret, because she never sees me. Everything is fine, until I notice the container still has some names in it. I unwrap the first piece of paper and it is my name. What gives? I am supposed to be benevolent and giving when there is nothing in it for me? I am not giving any presents if I am not getting anything in return, screw the whole secret santa program. Just kidding folks. I am hoping some night shift people have not yet drawn, but those thoughts did cross my mind. The joy of getting. I may try to incorporate a little April Fools into the secret santa program. How would this work? I could give some real inappropriate presents to people and their secret santa would get the credit / blame. Let's see, I could give a 15X pair of drawers to someone, or maybe a bottle of mouth wash. I will have to give it some thought. Imagine the Christmas party, "so, you are the sick bastard who gave me the mouth wash, some secret santa you turned out to be, go screw yourself." Then the innocent secret santa is saying, "what, huh, what are you talking about?" I will be watching it all laughing like a mad scientist. It could be fun.

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In another unrelated matter, I got another call from a tele marketer tonight. I wound up giving $15 to kids dying of cancer or dogs diagnosed with ADD or something. The point is I have a hard time saying no to some of these folks. Much of the time, I just say I am not interested and hang up the phone, but tonight, I just agreed to send the money. How many veterans organizations, police fraternities, and dying children causes are there? They all have my number. I fully expect to be solicited by a charity representing the "people who can't say no to charities" charity. That would be me.



The Napa Valley Marathon training is coming along well. Today is another 10 miler. I turned in my official online registration yesterday, so the goal has been officially set. There is something about paying the registration fee that makes it all real. I have to run now, no staying in bed or skipping days. To do so would be to have a bad marathon experience. Believe it or not, running 26 miles is not that bad if one trains for it. Still the best feeling is getting to stop running.



I am heading to New Orleans for some fun and will give a full report by Sunday evening. I hope you all have a great weekend.



Until the next time

John Strain

Pretty Nifty, Faye Is Fifty

It's a party weekend. This week's excuse / reason is Faye's 50th birthday. Of the four couples in our group, Faye is the third to turn 50. Faye keeps my friend Brian in line and that is no small task. The quietest one of our group, Faye is good with details and she volunteers to be the designated driver more than her turn. We celebrate each other's birthdays, anniversaries, and anything else we can think of. This weekend we are going to stay the night in the French Quarter in New Orleans.



New Orleans is certainly fun, but if you can be there with your friends it is a blast. We will spend Saturday eating and walking around, maybe a drink or two, then check into the hotel at 3:00 PM. The guys will watch the LSU vs Ole Miss game while sipping Jack Daniels (a southern tradition). The girls will probably check out the flea market or may hang out with us. After the game and a drink or two, we will walk to a restaurant in the French Quarter. The fare will be seafood, shrimp, crawfish, oysters, yes, yes, yes, YeeeES, YeeeES!!!! (to be read in a Meg Ryan voice as in the movie When Harry Met Sally). Depending on where we eat, we may go back to the hotel for a drink or two - or maybe just fix up a good walking around drink (large drink). It is OK to walk around with your drink in New Orleans. They all come out at night in the Quarter. People watching is great sport. Maybe I will put on a show for the tourists this weekend. We'll have to see. On Sunday we are going to the House of Blues for the gospel jazz brunch.



After all of that fun we return to the North Shore and look at the yard and house. We will say, we should have stayed home and cleaned the place up - NOT! My life would not be near as happy without my friends. Hopefully we will celebrate each other's 60th, 70th, and beyond. My sister Becky is going to be 50 this March and guess where she is going to celebrate it?



If anyone has any good celebration ideas for a 50th birthday, I am all ears. I found a site with the top ten games to be played at a 50th birthday:

• 10. Musical Recliners



• 9. Spin the Bottle of Mylanta



• 8. Hide and Go Pee



• 7. Simon Says Something Incoherent



• 6. Doc, Doc Goose



• 5. Red Rover, Red Rover, the Nurse Says Bend Over



• 4. Kick the Bucket



• 3. 20 Questions Shouted into your Good Ear



• 2. Pin the Toupee on the Bald Guy



• 1. Sag! You're it.

Here's to 50th birthdays, to good friends, and to you Faye - you're just getting started.



Until the next time

John Strain

Coca Cola

I was born in 1957 so my earliest memories were of the early 60's. I grew up in a middle class neighborhood in Shawnee, Kansas a suburb of Kansas City. In those days, money was tight. My father was a letter carrier before the term "going postal" had been coined. My mom was a housewife until I entered kindergarten. I was the youngest of three children. Anyway, one of the big treats in those days happened on Saturday night when our family sat in front of the television and watched "Saturday Night At The Movies." At some point during the movie, my mom would make popcorn and coke. Coke was a once a week treat then not an everyday thing like it is now. My mom bought coke in its most economical form - 16 oz. bottles. We drank the coke out of a glass with ice; no one got a whole bottle. I did not feel deprived because I had to drink coke from a glass, but I felt I was in the lap of luxury when I got to drink from a bottle.



We had an old corner drug store with a fountain inside. A glass of coke there was ten cents and the soda jerk would throw in a cherry at no extra charge. It came in a coke glass with two thin straws. To walk with a friend to Crown Drugs and drink one of those special treats was a big excursion in those days. If I was lucky, I had enough money for ice cream or maybe even a hamburger. The malts were made in those big stainless steel mixers. The mixer held almost another half of a malt and they gave it to you - ummm.



On the way to the drug store, my friends and I looked in ditches or alleys for coke bottles. The bottles had a deposit of two cents and the bigger bottles had a deposit of five cents. It was so cool to take a few bottles in to Van's Grocery Store and get cold hard cash for them.



Thinking about coke and coke machines conjures images of gas stations. Do you remember the old chest type coke machines at the local gas station? One had to either slide a glass or metal top to one side to get to the bottles. Some required lifting a door to see inside. Once the money was inserted, five or ten cents, you grabbed the top of the bottle and maneuvered it along some channels to the removal area. Now the trick was to pull the bottle straight out without letting it slip back down. The bottle was a little difficult to pull out, so it was common for people to pull it far enough to trip the mechanism, but instead of removing the bottle, let it slip back down. The gas station attendant was always aggravated with us when we did this. He would mutter instructions on how to properly work the machine as he fumbled through a ring of keys to open the machine and give us our coke.



I loved to get a coke at a gas station on a trip. The big red and white metal coke machine was a cool oasis offering anyone with a few coins soothing refreshment. There was no buying a coke and driving off either. If you bought a coke you hung around and drank it to avoid paying the five cent deposit. Once the coke was finished, the bottle went into one of the wooden coke cases usually stacked next to the machine.



When I got a little older, cokes were a quarter. My friends and I would drink a coke as we walked home from boy scouts after the Monday night meeting. By then, cans were the preferred container, but they were the cans a car could roll over without crushing. Those cans were heavy duty. I remember karate chopping those old cans. Boys need something to demonstrate their toughness. Every now and then a stray karate chop would hit the end of the can - that was painful for the person attached to the hand, but for everyone else it was a belly laugh.



Do you remember the coke commercials? "I'd like to teach the world to sing. . . " "Have a coke and a smile. . ." "It's the Real Thing." I am going to stop writing here. I am having a strange craving for a coke.



Until the next time

John Strain

Thinking About Death

I have been thinking about death lately. Not so much my death, but death in general. Maybe it is because this is November. Plants are dying, leaves are falling, and the world appears to be dying. The Greeks believed that Demeter, the goddess of agriculture caused the earth to bloom which was spring and summer. However, because Demeter's daughter Persephone had been tricked by Hades, the god of the underworld, she had to live in the underworld with him 6 months of the year. During this time, Demeter stopped things from growing - fall and winter.



There are other things which cause my thoughts to turn to death this time of year. A friend of mine died in November a few years back after a morning jog. I often run by the cemetery where he is buried and whisper a greeting as I pass. My mother-in-law was diagnosed with cancer in November of 1990 and died a few months later. My stepfather was dying of a brain tumor in 1997 and I said goodbye to him that November a few months before he died.



I did not think of these people or the dying plants first and then contemplate death. Instead I became aware I was thinking about death. Then these memories trickled out along with bittersweet emotions and thoughts. The longer I live, the more I ponder the cycles and circles of life. Each time I do, I end up with a feeling of gratitude and a renewed commitment to wring every drop of living out of life I can. Now, some of my loved ones only live in my memory, but others can still be hugged and enjoyed. I am following and being followed. It is good to be aware of both. Those who have gone before me are good examples of how to live and how to die. It is important to me that my life and death are also examples. Examples of how a grateful and happy man conducts himself in life and if given the chance the way he dies.



A line in the song "The Rose" which speaks to this is : "The soul afraid of dying never learns to live." During the holidays there seems to be increased depression among many. The fact loved ones are gone is magnified and the feelings are bittersweet as we enjoy the friends and family we have, but miss those who have gone on.



Perhaps this is why, when the world is at its darkest and symbols of death are pervasive, the Light of the world was born. Let this light warm you and give you hope. Accept it and pass it on. Therein lies the Christmas spirit.



Until the next time

John Strain