Kind of Funny Story (continued)

(A continuation of yesterday's story where I was wearing a fake mustache to try to buy a bottle of whiskey.  If you did not read yesterday's Part 1, you may want to read it first to get some of the context.)

* * * *

I was nervous as hell, truth be told.... but I went up to the counter, and there were a few guys chatting.... the store owner and a couple of "cronies" just talking about crap, smoking cigarettes, and with a fair bit of cussing thrown about from all three of them..... all with very loud, animated voices.  The store owner was a balding man, probably in his 50s, with grizzled features, rough looking beard and mustache and very pronounced eyebrows. 

Once at the counter, the talking stopped, and the store owner and his cronies glanced at me.  I then noticed how the shop own then squinted a me bit, his eyebrows furrowing.

"What-a you want?" he stated, stated, still looking at me with squinted eyes looking right at me.  

Trying to be "non-chalant" I replied... trying to keep my voice "deeper" sounding, "Gimme a pint of whiskey."

The fellow looked at me some more, this time elevating one of his eyebrows while still looking at me rather quizzically and squinting.  He also would occasionally glance downward, seemingly looking at my jacket.

"Well.... what kind you want?"

That caught me off guard, for I hadn't really thought much about having to PICK a particular kind of whiskey.  Hell, I really didn't KNOW many kinds of whiskey.  I tried to quickly think of what was a common type of whiskey.  I thought about what I had seen in my parent's liquor "cabinet".... it wasn't really a cabinet, but was a small cupboard in the kitchen above the refrigerator.  For as many years as I could remember, it had the same four bottles, that never seemed to be brought out, and never seemed to change, each of them being 1/2 or perhaps two-thirds full.  They were always rather dusty as well, having sat there for years and years.  I couldn't really remember any names on any of them.  Hell, I wasn't really sure if any of them were whiskey or not as well.  I figured one might have been because it's fluid was a brownish color.

Without knowing any of those bottles, I then thought of movies I had seen, and suddenly I remembered in some movie I had seen, I remembered them talking about and drinking "Jim Beam" so, I blurted out to the fellow,

"Uh....  gimme Jim Beam.... .... ..... please."  (so much for my attempted world-weary visage)

He paused, kept looking at me, and then again, his eyes moved downward again to my jacket.

"White or Black?" he quipped.

In my mind, I was thinking,  ["What on Earth did that mean?"] but then I also realized there must be two different kinds of Jim Beam, even though I had no damn idea about either kind or how to choose. 

"Uh.... .... ..... ..... Black." I stated, randomly. 

He kept staring at me, and I noticed his mouth twitched just a bit.  But, he got off his stool behind the counter, turned to his left, went past the large number of rows of cartons of cigarettes behind him, and a few paces further, reached up and pulled a bottle off  a middle shelf, and brought back the pint sized bottle of Jim Beam, Black Label.

He punched at and fiddled with the cash register. It jingled and jangled mechanically.

"Six bucks."

("Woah.") That was a bit pricier than I was imagining it would be.  But, I paid it.  The fellow stuck the bottle into a narrow, brown bag and handed it to me.  

And I got out of there in a hurry.

I do, however, remember as I was exiting out the door, that I heard the three guys start laughing about something, but I did not know what. 

* * * *

Now, back out to the car,  having successfully escaped...... I was filled with a NEW worry.   How would I get my "prize" home?!?  I was feeling a lot of nervousness.... what if the police stopped me and SAW the bottle of whiskey in the vehicle??!?  For a moment, I thought about throwing the bottle away into the trash, but I did not want to give up my "trophy", my "proof" of my mission.  So, I quickly decided to go to the trunk.   I opened the trunk..... thought about it a few moments, and lifted up the trunk's carpeting and then lifted up the particle board cover that sat above the spare tire, and tucked the little whiskey bottle, still in its paper sac.... deep into far back of the spare tire wheel well, behind the spare tire..... then covered it back up with the board and carpeting and slammed the trunk lid.

I got into the car, preparing for my "getaway".... and I looked into the rear view mirror..... then I glanced downward.

I had literally been shedding.  Probably a little less than about a 1/8 th of my "robust" mustache had loosened up from the glue and had left a fair number of diffuse, dark, loose (puppy) hairs across the front of my jacket, and some were even clinging to the bowl of the pipe jutting out of the jacket pocket.  I could feel my face flush in embarrassment.  I had been shedding parts of my "robust" "mustache" all the while talking to the shop owner. 

I started the car.... and I drove.... very slowly...  and very carefully.... back home.   Once I got inside, I quickly went and hid the bottle way at back of the bottom desk drawer in my old bedroom.  

* * * *

In hindsight, I can very much see the humor in my story.   

But, at the time... even though I was embarrassed about the fake mustache shedding incident.... I still felt "cooler" for accomplishing my "escapade".  

I also know now, of course, that the liquor store guy would have likely not given a damn what age I was and would probably have sold me the bottle regardless of how old I "looked".... I suspect that seedy store really did not care who they sold things to as long as their money was green.  But, I also believe that my "stealthy mission" probably gave the owner and his two crony friends a lot to laugh about that day as well.  

I still have that bottle of Jim Beam, unopened, in a box of momentos somewhere in a closet.  I do not know, but I was thinking of perhaps opening it and sharing it during my retirement party when I eventually retire.  

PipeTobacco

Kind of Funny Story

 

I had not thought about this is years, but I ended up remembering and telling this story to an in-person friend the other day.... and I thought all of YOU friends might get a little chuckle out of this as well.

As all of you probably already recognize, I am a bit of a "nerd" in some regards.  And, you also likely realize that I am not, nor have never been any sort of "rabble rouser" nor one to purposefully break rules.  In other words, I was not really "cool" in the way a lot of the actually "cool" kids WERE back in my youth.  I am not sure if my growing up experience was different from  most folks of my age.... or if it was.... it may be due to my growing up in a primarily rough-and-tumble, lower socioeconomic class community where the VAST MAJORITY of folks worked hard, blue-collar factory jobs or were farmers.  

Not being "cool" but instead "nerdy" always rankled at my psyche.  I always envied the "cool" kids and felt inferior.  But, it was not in me to do the things the "cool" kids did..... skipping classes, drag racing, "peeling" donuts with their cars, partying, and various other types of mischief.  I did not want to do those things because I did not want to risk bringing shame or worry to my family.

Except ONE TIME.

Besides NOT being "cool", I also DID NOT help my "social standing" with my peers.... because in addition to doing well grade-wise (shudder, the opposite of "cool" in my youth), I WON our school district's SCIENCE FAIR.  And, I was ALSO a damn BAND GEEK (the "cool" faction abhorred that) AND to top it off.... I participated in the school's PLAYS (dammit.... FOUR huge strikes against me).  In one play ("Fiddler on the Roof") I was a side character, Motel Kamzoil, the Tailor. And, in my high school, baby-faced youth, I had a mustache and beard glued onto my face for the performances.  

Another "right of passage" that also tended to be "significant" in my high school cohort and was well established in the "cool" crowd was underage drinking.  Again, I stayed clear of that (and lost even more social status) because I did not want to disappoint, shame, or worry my family.  

So.... eventually I graduated high school, very high up in my class's ranking (again, very "uncool"), and prepared for the frightening idea of going to college.... feeling what would now be labeled "low self-esteem" because of my complete "lack of coolness".   

Being "uncool" stuck with me into college.  I was rankled with feeling "inferior".  But, my "compass setting" was what it was/is.  

Except ONE TIME.....

As I was nearing the age of being legally able to drink, I devised a PLAN.  And, here was my "chance" to feel more "cool"... 

Very early after starting college, I started to grow my beard and mustache out.  My beard was reasonably well developed and was brown, but my mustache was initially still rather "peach-fuzz" and mostly blond until I was in my early 20s.  

But.... my plan.... I thought of it a few days before I became "of age" to be able to drink... and made the plan.  I went home for the weekend that had my birthday where I became "legal" to drink.  On the DAY BEFORE my birthday.... I enacted a plan so that  I could be more "cool" by purchasing a bottle of liquor while being underage (remember... this was ONE DAY BEFORE I became "legal" to buy alcohol).  

At home, relatively early in the afternoon, to enact my plan, I made plans to drive across to the seedier side of town to go to a seedier liquor store (that I thought would be less likely to try to card me... and it was also less likely anyone would recognize me over in that part of town) and buy a pint of whiskey.

BUT.... here is the best part in my plan.   I thought this would be a perfect way to add "gravitas" to my visage giving me an "older" look.  This mission needed to employ the help of our family dog, who was a chocolate brown cockapoo... and my head hair was of a similar brown hue.  I very carefully snipped off some of her fur to the right length and.... using the spirit gum I had tucked away from my time in "Fiddler on the Roof", I proceeded to enhance my wispy blondish mustache into a fuller, "bushier" more robust mustache by using the spirit gum to glue in some our dog's chocolate fur to make the appearance of my mustache considerably darker and bushier.  If I did it well, I thought for sure it would make me look a helluva lot older, so that the fellow at the liquor store would not even think to card me.  

I tried to blend the corners of my "puppy-produced mustache" into my youthful beard, which WAS brown, but more of a reddish brown at that young age.  So, even though I didn't necessarily think so at the time..... I suspect "my" deep, very dark brown mustache contrasted rather oddly with my more reddish brown beard. 

I dressed relatively conservatively (older), and brought a pipe along with me too, thinking for sure that too would add further  "gravitas" for the mission.  I put the pipe in the front pocket of an old work jacket of my Dad's that was hanging in the garage.  I put the stem of the pipe down into the pocket, so that the BOWL of the pipe stuck out from the pocket and would be visible.  

I then drove across town to the rough part of the city and parked my vehicle.  I was already rather nervous.... worrying I would get "caught" trying to do this.  But, I got out and went into the liquor store...  

(This is about all I can write today, I will try to finish it up tomorrow.)

PipeTobacco

 

Retirement?

Today, my wife and I went to a meeting with the fellow who represents the U's Retirement Funding System. It was both a positive and horrifically frightening meeting.  

He advised us to schedule a meeting with one of the "U's Retiree Specialists" so that we can learn about "ins and outs" on how to best organize our retirement.  All sorts of things come into play and I heard a lot of terms that make my head spin like "Required Minimum Divestment" and "Roth Annuities" and a whole helluva lot of other financial jargon.  

The fellow we met with today estimates that we "likely" can retire with a "monthly drawdown" that would match our current needs with excess.  All of this is frightening as hell to me.  

While I think it would be wonderful TO retire..... I absolutely FEAR the idea of becoming destitute.  And, even though it may be foolish to think so.... I have had nightmares and fears of "retiring" and becoming homeless and having to live on the streets.   I think I may have (perhaps too literally) taken my parent's stories of living during the Depression deeply to heart.  

The fellow asked me to imagine something that I thought would be a sort of "splurge" I would like to do, and so I tried to think of one.  Eventually, I thought of one and I told him that I would consider it a massive splurge if I were to buy myself a bright orange Jeep Wrangler........USED.  He laughed, especially at my "used" addendum but said I could "easily" do that in retirement.   

So, I asked this U sponsored fellow if he could recommend a book or two that he thought would in a LEGITIMATE way teach me about the ins and outs OF what to THINK ABOUT in order to retire.  He had two that he thought were well written, accurate, and he added.... "intellectual" as well.  I am HOPING these two books may allay some of my financial fears. 

I have ordered these two books and I and my wife will read them.  We have an initial meeting scheduled in July to meet this so-called "Retiree Specialist"..... and I already scheduled a Fall meeting with our current fellow that I spoke with today.  

It is still well over AT LEAST a full academic year out OR MORE LIKELY LONGER PERHAPS..... but I am now more seriously CONSIDERING the possibility of retirement.  

Besides the fears of financial peril through retirement..... I also have to begin to address and think through my fears of "Who will I be?" after I retire?  I know I do identify VERY strongly with my role as a professor, and I am more than a little worried about WHAT WILL I BE after I am no longer a professor?  Who will I be?  Will I be anything anymore? It scares me in many ways to think of the loss of my identity.  

I do KNOW I need to do a helluva lot of searching and thinking and working through this potential idea of retirement.  It scares me.

PipeTobacco 

A New Attempt

I am trying out a new addition to my exercise routine.

I am still running five days a week like usual, but since my recovery from plantar fasciitis, I have not been hitting 50 miles a week... but instead hovering in the 30 - 36 mile per week category.  But, a lot of the decline was related to my tiring of running loopy loops around the indoor track.  Now that I am back outside, I am hoping to gradually work back up to 50. 

But, I was also thinking about my goals to strengthen my upper body as well.  And, of course some of this I will try to do the "traditional" way by going to the U gym and trying to improve at lifting weights.  I am hoping to incorporate that three days a week.  

However, I also tried out something this morning that I am seeing if it is beneficial.  I have decided that instead of my running occuring Monday through Friday during May and June (the time of my class), I am instead going to run on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.  Tuesday and Thursday being my class days seems like days I may benefit from not running as I have to yammer so much both of those days.  

But, in order to keep active, I tried this morning to WALK VERY BRISKLY for three miles, while holding a 10 pound (4.5 kg) kettle ball in each hand.  I picked 10 pounds for each hand simply because those were the two kettle balls I had sitting in the basement.  While walking briskly, I did all sorts of movements with my arms..... outward, forward, backward, upward etc.  Even though 10 pounds may be miniscule.... I did feel it in each arm by the time I was done with the walk. If I keep up doing this, I may need to buy a larger pair of kettle balls.  

I am at a loss how to write about my yearning for my pipes any longer.  I feel rather stuck.  I would like to just jump back into them.  But, I also feel hesitant.  It feels awfully tiring to try to think through a way to go back with the "guardrails" I feel would be best.  This morning, before I left, I opened up my pouch of "Three Star Blue" and pinched out a few crumbles of the leaf and put them on my tongue just to try to get a tiny bit of that flavor.  It was not the same as smoking a bowful, very obviously.  But, I wistfully did capture a tiny bit of the raw flavor and the pouch aroma which was better than nothing.  In some ways it was pleasant, but in some ways it felt rather melancholic.  

It was really so nice getting to talk with my friends at the shoppe last week.  I really enjoy that camaraderie.  I do not really know if I will go out there tomorrow or not.  It is going to be so hit-or-miss on whether I find a friend there or not.  

If I do go, I will try to finish up "Hidden Valley Road" (the book about schizophrenia).  I had been thinking I was going to relish my newest book which was "reported" to be a biography about Erik Satie... the French composer from the late 1800s into the 1900s.  I have been relistening to many of his works, and thought I would look for a biography about him.  But, when the book I chose arrived, it was what apparently was perhaps a "vanity" press publisher... because the book was not really any sort of biography.... but instead had about a page of Wikipedia-esque "biography" material and the remaining ~170 pages were little sentence fragments of the AUTHOR (not Satie) on his opinions of some of the phrases of a small subset of satie's work.  Yet, there was no table of contents, no index, no citations.  I typically hold ALL books in high regard... but this was just a poor joke of a work..... as much as I would hate to admit it..... I would not even give a damn if this "book" fell into the hands of Guy Montag*.

PipeTobacco

 * I presume most will get my alluded to symbolism, but if not I will reveal it tomorrow.  

Tomorrow it Begins Again

 

Two important dates (and one valuable "milestone") have occurred since I last wrote:

1.  The birthday occurred of my niece who committed suicide in 1994.  She would have been 49 years old now if she had continued living.  That event still impacts us in ways easy to see, but also in ways that are more nuanced and even more harshly in quiet, less recognizable ways.

2.  It was Mother's Day.  My wife and I took a long drive accompanied by our youngest son to visit the town of our one daughter who is in graduate school.  We ate lunch at a Pakistani restaurant and walked about the college town a bit.  

3.  The important "milestone" is that I was able to deliver the files for all six of my researcher's posters to the Graphics Office before noon last Friday so that they can (hopefully) be printed in time for the big conference in about a week.

* * * 

Tomorrow is the start of the 1st Summer session at the U.  I have a cadre of only 50 students (plus 11 who want to get in but are only on the wait list, but the U admin would not allow me to earn that much "bonus" pay by having another section).  The U is rather "anti" teaching in the Summer sessions because it involves what they refer to as "bonus" pay and they do not wish to spend the money.  C'est la vie. Or perhaps since I studied it more, I should say, "So ist das Leben" in German, or perhaps "Talis es vita." if I am in more of a Latin mood.

Not much else to report.  I feel lackadaisical and unmotivated.  I have been working from home today, as I just did not want to go to the U.  I did write a new PowerPoint that I will use with my new cadre of students to try to explain to them from class #1 on methods on how they should work with wisdom, care, and EFFICIENCY on learning the ~1000 anatomical structures (most in Latin) they are being tasked with knowing as part of their laboratory experience.   Try as I might over these last several decades, there are always a cluster of students who (no matter the presentation style) think they know "better" ways to accomplish this hefty task, and it takes them a few sessions before they realize the error of their ways.... and they then struggle to try to catch back up.  I am hopeful that this new PowerPoint which has a lot of graphic imagery will (fingers crossed) hopefully make the cluster of strugglers (those that initially do not heed my advice) a bit smaller.  

I have still been daydreaming about pipes and pipe tobaccos.  Yet, while I want to rejoin into the beautiful activity, the how to do so successfully stays just beyond my ability to currently grasp.  I wish I could figure out a legitimate plan, and I need to figure out a legitimate plan.  With the abbreviated course session this semester, it blows completely out of the water for these several weeks, the ability to attend (even extremely late) the Retiree's Cigar Group.  I am thinking, however, that last early Summer, I did have a modicum of success seeing a few of the guys if I were to go on Wednesday, early afternoon.  I am considering that again during this time, as it is good to see them.  I probably should have put it on the list above, but last Thursday, because I had NO classes at all.... I WAS able to attend the Retiree's Cigar Group and I was even able to be ON TIME, and everyone was there.  It was extremely pleasant talking with EVERY one of the regulars!  It had been a damn long time.  I had not seen several of them in months.  We spent our time catching up and just chatting.  It was wonderful.

Yet, tomorrow never knows what will transpire.  It is always a surprise. And, yes, I would list Tomorrow Never Knows in the top five of my favorite Beatles songs.   

PipeTobacco 

Presentations Galore

Today is a day of more feverish working on developing presentations with my researchers.  This is a great meeting for them to go to and present at.... but at this time of the year, it is rather tiresome for this old professor.  Not because I do not like to help them.  Not because it is a bad meeting.  But, just because I am exhausted from concluding the last semester, and I would REALLY prefer to have a couple of days "off" where I can do what I damn well please.  

Unfortunately, that is not the case, as we are under the gun to get our presentations submitted to our graphics office as these presentations THIS TIME are in the form of scientific posters and the graphics center at the U has rather specific, rigid deadlines on how long it take to get the damn things printed.  

I have a (at least to me) funny story I am hoping to bring to you in a day or two.  It is of a long ago memory of my youth.  I was talking about it with a friend the other day, not having thought about it in a long time.  I hope, when I get it down here, it may provide you a chuckle or two.  

I do MISS my pipes.  I miss them all the time.  But, when I am excessively busy, like at the moment, they had always been a soothing, calming friend and help spur me on to continue my work quest.  I miss my friendly pipes.

I am hoping to swim with my wife later, if I can get enough done here.  And, I am hoping/thinking it may be able to be a Taco Tuesday this evening if I am not too tired to make them.  

PipeTobacco

Monday

 

Well..... I submitted all ~230 course grades this morning, after having them “marinate" a bit when I finished them up Sunday afternoon.  Those were grades spread out between my five courses (and three independent study courses.... which I had for 7 students).  When I say "marinate" I am letting the grades rest a bit as I contemplate/debate whether to add any sort of modest final curve to the course.  

I would have liked to have had my grades in sooner, but I had three errant grades missing for one of my A&P classes where I have lab instructors who work with me to teach some of the laboratory sections.  I teach all the kids in lecture, and depending upon the semester, some of the students in the laboratory for this course as well.  But, especially in Fall and Winter semesters, I tend to have a small cadre of laboratory instructors work with me.  And, unfortunately, they can be somewhat notorious for a) being slow to get grading finished, and b) sometimes MISSING a few grades when they finally do send grades to me.  This time, it was a mix of both.  I needed to contact THREE lab instructors about missing scores for a total of 4 students.  

It used to be that the time of "marination" of grades was something I very much looked forward to, because for many, many years.... my routine for "marinating" grades was to.... when I computed the final scores and had them all written down in the grade book, I would skedattle off the U campus and head across town to visit with my father in-law, where we would have a drink or two or so, and smoke our pipes and chat and talk away the afternoon.  Sometimes we would do some work out in his workshop (pole barn) as well.  I would always regale to him a variety of the more "interesting" of the various student stories I had acquired during the last few weeks of the semester.  Very, very pleasant memories from those days!  

Yesterday, my wife and I and two of our kids met up to go to the theater, as they were showing a "50th" Anniversary showing of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail".  To me, it is a movie BEST experienced in the actual movie theater, so I thought it would be very enjoyable.  It was only the third time I saw it in the theater.

I have always loved watching movies. But, different periods of my life had different genres of movies become my favorites.  During the 70s and 80s I tended to especially appreciate "politically" focused and "romantic comedy" style movies... a few that come to mind, "Getting Straight", "The Way We Were",  "For Pete's Sake", "China Syndrome", "Yentl" and others of that ilk.  It was not until the late 80s and into the early 1990's that a particular type of comedy became a big focus for me..... and inevitably they were of the "absurdist" comedy type... but even then it was of a subgenre of "absurdism" that delighted me.  "MP The Holy Grail" was one of those types of what I call "communication absurdism" comedies.  

Monty Python was a great film for me to see.  It is wholly an "absurdist" comedy.... and one component often of the type of "absurdist" comedy that especially tickles my fancy is that there is a protagonist who, no matter how hard he tries, fails to communicate effectively to others in the film.  And, to make it even more profoundly funny for me is when the protagonist actually DOES communicate effectively, but the communication is not accurately perceived by the other characters.  

Over the years, there have been many films with this sort of communication MIScommunication style of absurdist comedy.  A few of my favorites include:

"Monty Python and the Holy Grail" (Graham Chapman, John Cleese, etc.)

"House Sitter" (Steve Martin & Goldie Hawn)

"What About Bob? (Richard Dreyfuss & Bill Murray)

"The God's Must Be Crazy" 

"Groundhog Day" (Bill Murray & Andie MacDowell)

I had better go and get to working on some of the presentations for the upcoming conference that I have six sets of researchers going to in a couple of weeks.  

But, before I go, I just realized that today is May 4th.  Most folks think of today as "Star Wars Day".... but in my mind, now that I realized today was May 4th.... the two things I think about and remember are a) it is now the sad, 56th Anniversary of the Kent State University Shootings, and b) it was on this date, 56 years ago that the happy event of my oldest niece being born also occurred.  

PipeTobacco