Long Hair, Goats, and Grain Belt Beer

This is a rewrite of a post I did eleven years ago.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Long Hair, Goats, and Grain Belt Beer

I was sitting in the big fluffy recliner yesterday, and I started thinking about how much it was costing me to entertain myself. The price of cable television, the internet, and all the components, and the electricity it takes make it all work. It made my butt clench just thinking about it.

It made me think back fifty years, to when I was living on a hippie commune out in Iowa. We didn't have television, nor even a radio. What we did have was long hair, goats, and an ability to entertain ourselves in strange ways that often involved chemical or herbal enhancement. One of our favorite venues of entertainment was the unused feed silo out in back of the big old farmhouse. Many an evening you would find a bunch of us sitting in the bottom of that thing with guitars, drums, tambourines, and a couple of six-packs of Grain Belt Beer. That big round silo reverberated as if you were actually inside the intruments.

There is no doubt we had a good time back then, but I don't think I would want to depend on that to entertain me now. For one thing I don't have a twenty year old body anymore, and the idea of sitting cross legged in a pile of old hay, filled with chiggers, and ticks makes me itch thinking about it. Besides, it didn't smell all that nice, and the silo had no air-conditioning. No, I'll just sit back here in 'Big Fluffy', my recliner, and control the world with my collection of remotes at my side.

Here's Johnny

 

1974

This is another week where a lot of people have time off. It's not really a holiday week, but more of a holy day week. Easter and Passover. You notice it on television. All my favorite late night shows run repeats and I'm left surfing the channels looking for something to loll me to sleep. Nothing other than a baseball game is as good for putting me to sleep than a Trevor Noah interview. I like the guy, but his interviews are dull. Anyway, on one of those extra digital channels that the FCC gave us when they made our old televisions obsolete, they play Johnny Carson reruns. So I record it and watch it instead of the other reruns. It's a slice of history watching a Johnny Carson monologue. I don't always get the references, but his jokes stretch from the Nixon years to Clinton. And when the opening music hits the first few notes I am transported right back. A couple of things about the Tonight Show from the Johnny Carson years. First, it originally ran for one hundred and five minutes every night. One hour and forty five minutes. By the time Johnny retired, he had it cut down to one hour. I also think he only did four shows a week by then. The weirdest thing about that show was that they never changed the curtains for at least twenty years. A rainbow of colors behind Johnny Carson as he stumbled through monologues. I imagine those curtains might have had an odor after all those years. By today's standards the old Tonight Show sucked. Not as bad as the current Tonight Show, but it sucked. So in a pinch, during rerun weeks, it makes for the perfect late night sleep aid.

1992

 

Lost in Evanston

 

I went to the Dermatologist yesterday and he sliced a bit of flesh from my arm. A weird, red strawberry looking thing that popped up right after my first covid vaccination. Not that I'm worried that I got some strange side effect. I'd much rather have that vaccination and endure a bit of discomfort than get sick. Also, it allows me to see Mom. Anyway, that is not the big problem here. I've been to the hospital in Evanston a few times, yet every time I go there I get confused. Last time I visited the Doctor there I  parked on the wrong side of the hospital and found myself knocking on the back door of the MRI wing. Luckily they had an intercom that connected with the main hospital switchboard.

"Sir, the office you are looking for is in the east tower."

"I'm not at the east tower?"

"I don't know, sir. Do you see the big glass doors? It would be to the left of you."

"Um, no. I'm at a metal door. There are trash dumpsters, and a dock for trucks. No glass doors."

Silence followed for a few seconds.

"You know, I'm just going to get my car and drive around to the other side of the hospital. I might have made a wrong assumption as to where the east tower is."

Sure enough, I drove around to the other side of the building and there were the big glass doors. 

Yesterday was different. I didn't get lost outside. I went directly to the big glass doors, and then to the east tower elevators. I got into the elevator and pressed four. I was then deposited directly in front of my doctor's office on the fourth floor. For some reason I didn't look straight ahead at suite 460. I turned to my right and became completely disoriented.

'Okay, where the hell is that office? This doesn't look anything like it did last time.'

I then walked in a complete circle around the fourth floor looking for suite 460. At least one kind person asked if I needed help, but I just kept on walking until I came upon 460. Directly in front of the elevator. If this is a hint of what my old age is going to be like, I am screwed.

I Kind of Know What I'm Doing

 

So I now have this ninety two year old car in my garage. Back when I was sixteen years old I bought a car that was thirty one years old. That car, a 1935 Studebaker was only six years newer than my recent acquisition, a 1929 Ford. Anyway, the thing is that I've learned a few things since I was sixteen. First of all, I learned that I really never knew that much about how to maintain a car. Oh sure, I knew how to drive through the Jiffy Lube. I was aware of where to get tires and batteries replaced on my cars. But if something bad happened I always had to either turn to a professional mechanic, sell the car, or scrap it. I even abandoned a couple of them. The Model A car that I bought is considered quite simple and easy to repair. Even somebody with the limited knowledge I have is supposed to be able to fix a Model A Ford. I think I can do it. I am approaching it the same way I did the computer equipment I maintained for twenty five years. I bought a very good repair manual, and a very good diagnostic manual. Seventy dollars well spent. Seriously, If I could fix some of those old Burroughs and IBM computer systems forty years ago, I'm sure I can fix this old car.

 Over the beautiful weekend I started taking care of some maintenance on the Model A. I installed a new outside mirror on the passenger side. Not that easy since you have to remove the hinge pin on the door to do it. But I read the book and ordered a tool for that. I took apart the distributor and lubed the thing just like the books says. I even changed my own oil and kept the old oil to return for recycling. Unlike the puddle of oil I left in the dirt next to my dad's garage fifty four years ago. I left a lot of oil there.

 

Oral Stimulus

 

So I am back at the dentist. She's finishing up the root canal that was started a week ago. The dental assistant asks me if I want to rinse and spit, which I do. I swish the blue stuff around in my mouth and spit it into the little swirling sink next to the chair. Except that I haven't spit into the little sink. Instead I have drooled it out onto the bib chained around my neck. My mouth is deadened by the Novocain and I have no control. Looking down at the mess, I can see it is dribbling down to my shirt and I try to say that I want a new bib.

"Whoooo whib weeese. Woo.... "

Apparently dentists can understand Novocain mouth and the assistant quickly puts another bib around my neck. I have to say that I like my new dentist. Again, I have no pain. I've been stuck, drilled, and there is a strange smell of something burning in my mouth, but no pain. About that smell of smoke and actual feeling of heat in my mouth. I asked the doctor about that when she was done. She brought me over to the x-ray hanging by the counter and showed me exactly what she had done and why there was smoke. It all made perfect sense to me. Never has a dentist explained what was going on in my mouth so clearly. Always it has been a bit of a mystery that I have tried to figure out with my tongue later at home. I have two more trips to the dentist for the crown on this tooth. It's not something I want to do, but it is necessary. One more thing about the dental work. There is no mystery about what I will do with that stimulus check I'm expecting from the government. It just happens to be exactly what I owe the doctor.

Seeds of Summer

 

I started about a week later than I usually do with my summer gardening. Yes, I am through with winter and I am jumping into spring, with my eye on summer. For the last few years I have started seedlings in my basement for transplanting in the garden. It works out great and saves me a little bit of money. This year was more difficult because moving around in nearly three feet of snow kept me from visiting the hardware store. I have tried ordering seeds online, but last year when I ordered seeds through Amazon, I didn't know they'd be coming all the way from China. Seriously, it took three months before the seeds arrived and they had been opened by customs. I threw them out. I wasn't going to chance planting some kind of Godzilla flower that might eat my dogs. Anyway, last week I went to Lowes (Because I've come to hate Home Depot.) and picked up the starter kit and seeds. Being old with a brain that is slowly dying, I forgot the soil to plant them in so I had to make a second trip. I've done one other thing this year different from the past years. I'm leaving the newly planted seeds upstairs in my living room where I can watch the magic. The reason for leaving them upstairs is that I don't want to look at the mountain of crap I put downstairs after de-cluttering the apartment. Upstairs the magic of life, downstairs crap and spiders.