Every step of the way. We walk the line. Your days are numbered, so are mine. Time is piling up. We struggle and we scrape. All boxed in, nowhere to escape...
Hey Pepe! Listen up! This is one of those voices inside your head. Not the one that gave you that swank advice that if you ate a steady diet of Snackwell brownies it would ensure you a place on that next shuttle to heaven. Nope I've got more common sense than that. I'm here to tell you that you can stop listening to any new songs. I've found one that contains everything you need to know.
The city's just a jungle. More games to play. I'm trapped in the heart of it, trying to get away. I was raised in the country. Been working in the town. I been in trouble since I set my suitcase down...
Of course this song, Mississippi, was written by that fellow Dylan you are so fond of- left off his Time Out of Mind where it would have fit perfectly. Instead he gave it to Sheryl Crow to record for her newest CD, The Globe Sessions. She does a good job with it- better than most Dylan covers- and clearly it is the best song on the entire CD (what is up with that annoying My Favorite Mistake? What a great title for an awful song...). Still it would be fun to hear what Bob could do with this song. The tricky meter changes, the shifting melody line- I'm sure he would bend and twist the words in his own unique way to make this song something quite different than Crow's version.
I got nothing for you. I had nothing before. Don't even have anything for myself anymore. Sky's full of fire and the rain is pouring down. There's nothing you can sell me so I'll see you around...
What makes this song something you just have to pay attention to? First and foremost is its "refrain" tag of "The ONLY thing I did wrong was stay in Mississippi a day too long..." What a great line! Makes one wonder what exactly went down in Mississippi, especially on that last day. And it sets the tone for a vague story about being on the run; about being where one does not belong. Swampy. Very swampy.
All my powers of expression and thoughts so sublime. Could never do you justice, reason or rhyme. Only one thing I did wrong, stayed in Mississippi a day too long...
Could it be said any better? Your exact current feelings. This is where you are! Listen up! Remember that birthday party you went to in kindergarten at Sally Murakami's place? Everyone expected you two would naturally get married since you were the only two Japanese Americans in your class. And Sally brought you to her grandfather(?) who you impressed with your ability to spell "MISS- ISS - IPPI..." Yes if forced to testify under oath you could probably get away with saying that the only things you've ever done wrong were to stay in certain places a little too long.
The devil's in the alley, the mule kickin' in the stall. Say anything you wanna, I have heard it all. I was thinking about the things that she said. I was dreaming I was sleeping in your bed. Walking through the leaves, falling from the trees. Feel like a stranger nobody sees. So many things we never will undo I know you're sorry, I'm sorry too...
The common themes of Dylan's work that always speak to you. LISTEN UP! The devil is after you. Thinking you've heard it all before. Dreaming about being with her. So many things you somehow wish for a second chance but it ain't to be. Sorry? Who's sorry now?
Some people will offer you their hand and some won't. Last night I knew you, tonight I don't. I need something strong to distract my mind. I'm gonna look at you 'til my eyes go blind. Well I got here, following the southern star. I crossed that river just to be where you are. Only one thing I did wrong, stayed in Mississippi a day too long...
Last night you knew her and now you don't. What else needs to be said? Distractions. That's all you've been seeking for eleven years! But take a closer look...
Well my ship's been split to splinters; it's sinking fast. I'm drowning in the poison, got no future, got no past. But my heart is not weary, it's light and free. I've got nothing but affection for those who have sailed with me. Everybody's moving if they ain't already there. Everybody's got to move somewhere. Stick with me baby, anyhow, things should start to get interesting right about now.
No future and no past. Admiration for those you've stumbled across. Things will get interesting. They always do. The penultimate line? "You can always come back, but you can't come back all the way." Did you hear?
My clothes are wet, tight on my skin. Not as tight as the corner that I painted myself in. I know that fortune is waiting to be kind. So give me your hand and say you'll be mine. The emptiness is endless, cold as the clay. You can always come back, but you can't come back all the way. Only one thing I did wrong, stayed in Mississippi a day too long.
Monday, November 16, 1998
Monday, November 9, 1998
Looking for Nancy
When you turn thirty four stuff just doesn't make much sense anymore. It's like your long lost Lara who broke down crying in front of her family during Easter dinner, and couldn't exactly explain why. What exactly did happen underneath the soccer goal posts? They say heading the ball is causing brain damage. I can go along with that. And why did you think of that just now?
Snippets sniffles. Film at ten. A flickering heart. A broken car window. After a 22 hour work day I come out to the chilly street just wanting to get home- to a familiar place. But the shattered glass is a reminder of what is up ahead. My partner is worried. But I want to tell her that of all the things that have gone down this past year, this particular one doesn't even make the top ten. Reaching out but losing touch. My favorite Nagel woman. And none of it makes much sense but you seem to remember that none of it ever did and none of it is ever supposed to. 34.
My favorite Tina memory? We were moving stores east to west, west to east. During a break in the action we decided to go to lunch, Tina and I. I had recently given her a copy of my novel to read and now was my first chance to ask her what she thought. She said it seemed mighty personal. But then she shared more. That of me and my friend she had seen me as the "original" because "you lead the way and then they react." And she recalled her favorite time with Wounded Knee who she noticed I was now emulating with my black Converse canvass shoes. "I came in with a hangover and she was blasting Ted Nugent... I told her to turn it off..." I wrote Tina a song. The only song I've ever written. And it was good. Damn good.
Tina and I also agreed on another thing. Just when we would hit it big something disastrous would occur. It was bound to happen. Happiness? A losing proposition. I do sincerely hope dear Tina doesn't feel that way no more. Because the one thing I've learned is it doesn't have to be.
Another memory I can't quite explain. I started at a new job and was helped by Ms. Nancy K. And I was feeling a bit lost and out of place and she drew me a map of where everyone was at and I appreciated the help oh so much. Finally someone that saw the new guy needed some guidance. But she frustrated me to no end; only because she was so smart, and so well read, and could have... but she let her past, a past she somehow did escape on some level, be an excuse for not taking advantage of opportunities that could have been hers. F***ing the most frustrating person I've ever come across. And now she is missing. Emailed her. Called her at home and work where she is no longer at. Went to her place to find a porch full of newspapers and unanswered mail. Called the cops who couldn't do nothing. Worried but in a guilty way. I was told as a manager by a manager that if I could turn Ms. Nancy around (I was about to throw in the towel) that it would be the best feeling I ever could accomplish as a manager. And I tried, I really did.
I finally had a chance to bring my favorite furry feline in for his annual check up. I was a bit annoyed to find out he has a mild case of gingivitis and the cost it would incur to fix the problem. And my natural reaction was to make my defensive joke. I'm payin' how much? I don't pay that freaking much on my own teeth and gums? But as part of the procedure they did a blood test where the results showed his white cell count is too low. Way too low. And it can mean a few different things, the never before seen vet told me. Doesn't have to be feline leukemia which is the leading killer of cats. Could just be feline AIDS. Oh boy what a relief.
So I tell my drooling roommate, my friend that he can't abandon me now. He has to stick around. He looks at me and wonders why now the special attention. Why I'm holding him tighter and recalling all we've been through together...
They say you can't die of a broken heart and yet they still seem to want to monitor things when they aren't quite right. All the feelings that bore. Right through you. All the feelings keep leading right back to the one. And with another passing anniversary of the beginning of all this I come to wonder why it is when you do make the decision (and why is it so naturally difficult) to reveal that part of you- the part that beats even when it feels ever so beat- that you always wonder whether or not you've done the proper thing. It never fails until it does. So this is 34.
Snippets sniffles. Film at ten. A flickering heart. A broken car window. After a 22 hour work day I come out to the chilly street just wanting to get home- to a familiar place. But the shattered glass is a reminder of what is up ahead. My partner is worried. But I want to tell her that of all the things that have gone down this past year, this particular one doesn't even make the top ten. Reaching out but losing touch. My favorite Nagel woman. And none of it makes much sense but you seem to remember that none of it ever did and none of it is ever supposed to. 34.
My favorite Tina memory? We were moving stores east to west, west to east. During a break in the action we decided to go to lunch, Tina and I. I had recently given her a copy of my novel to read and now was my first chance to ask her what she thought. She said it seemed mighty personal. But then she shared more. That of me and my friend she had seen me as the "original" because "you lead the way and then they react." And she recalled her favorite time with Wounded Knee who she noticed I was now emulating with my black Converse canvass shoes. "I came in with a hangover and she was blasting Ted Nugent... I told her to turn it off..." I wrote Tina a song. The only song I've ever written. And it was good. Damn good.
Tina and I also agreed on another thing. Just when we would hit it big something disastrous would occur. It was bound to happen. Happiness? A losing proposition. I do sincerely hope dear Tina doesn't feel that way no more. Because the one thing I've learned is it doesn't have to be.
Another memory I can't quite explain. I started at a new job and was helped by Ms. Nancy K. And I was feeling a bit lost and out of place and she drew me a map of where everyone was at and I appreciated the help oh so much. Finally someone that saw the new guy needed some guidance. But she frustrated me to no end; only because she was so smart, and so well read, and could have... but she let her past, a past she somehow did escape on some level, be an excuse for not taking advantage of opportunities that could have been hers. F***ing the most frustrating person I've ever come across. And now she is missing. Emailed her. Called her at home and work where she is no longer at. Went to her place to find a porch full of newspapers and unanswered mail. Called the cops who couldn't do nothing. Worried but in a guilty way. I was told as a manager by a manager that if I could turn Ms. Nancy around (I was about to throw in the towel) that it would be the best feeling I ever could accomplish as a manager. And I tried, I really did.
I finally had a chance to bring my favorite furry feline in for his annual check up. I was a bit annoyed to find out he has a mild case of gingivitis and the cost it would incur to fix the problem. And my natural reaction was to make my defensive joke. I'm payin' how much? I don't pay that freaking much on my own teeth and gums? But as part of the procedure they did a blood test where the results showed his white cell count is too low. Way too low. And it can mean a few different things, the never before seen vet told me. Doesn't have to be feline leukemia which is the leading killer of cats. Could just be feline AIDS. Oh boy what a relief.
So I tell my drooling roommate, my friend that he can't abandon me now. He has to stick around. He looks at me and wonders why now the special attention. Why I'm holding him tighter and recalling all we've been through together...
They say you can't die of a broken heart and yet they still seem to want to monitor things when they aren't quite right. All the feelings that bore. Right through you. All the feelings keep leading right back to the one. And with another passing anniversary of the beginning of all this I come to wonder why it is when you do make the decision (and why is it so naturally difficult) to reveal that part of you- the part that beats even when it feels ever so beat- that you always wonder whether or not you've done the proper thing. It never fails until it does. So this is 34.
Venturing Forward
Let me start by saying I voted for Norm Coleman. I know it's an example of my political superficiality but the sole reason I voted for Norm was because I figured he was the best candidate to get a baseball stadium built. I personally believe a child can learn more by going out to watch a baseball game than they can by going to school. But that's just me. I voted early by absentee ballot and admit that I had a change of heart after my ballot was cast. Right after Jesse Ventura said he was in favor of legalizing prostitution I said, "Now that's a guy I could vote for." Not because I necessarily agree that is a good solution to that particular problem, but because we finally had a candidate who was willing to say what he believed and not what he was told was what the voters wanted to hear.
For me the governor's race was the least interesting of all the state constitutional offices. I thought Ken Pentel of the Green Party was clearly the best candidate. He was a bright, practical and articulate candidate but he wasn't on my side of the stadium issue. Besides I've reached a point, like many, where I truly feel government has little ability to offer effective solutions. It is all just a matter of politics.
What happened last Tuesday was quite astonishing. I spent the day problem solving voting equipment in various precincts in northern Hennepin County. It was clear during the day that anybody who doubted that Mr. Ventura had struck a nerve had greatly underestimated his speak from the heart message. Precinct after precinct was packed with people- and many who have seemed to be the least interested in elections- young people.
Thus during the night while I was down at the Hennepin County Government Center helping accumulate results, it wasn't much of a shock what was happening. The people of Minnesota (at least the 37 percent that voted for Jesse) clearly saw this candidate as something other than just another politician. That during the campaign he was less than specific about what he'd do if elected didn't seem to bother them. That his communication style of talk show radio host speaking his mind regardless of the obstacles it will create in coalition building ( a necessity in accomplishing anything in the political system) actually appealed to many. It was a campaign rooted in anger and it touched a nerve in many people.
What Jesse was clearly about is less intrusive government. Yet there was a contradiction: how could voters vote for him and also overwhelmingly vote for government protection of our right to hunt and fish? (Likewise how could voters vote to abolish the State Treasurer's office and yet not vote for the only treasurer candidate who was for that issue?)
By election day I think like many, my view of Jesse as this eccentric fringe candidate who had no ability to be our next governor drastically had changed. Why not Jesse? What we have had is no longer working if for no other reason than no one seems to believe in it. To see people energized by a candidate, by a campaign rather than turned off into indifference was quite refreshing. After all the line between professional politics and grass roots efforts is just as great as the line between professional wrestling and other sports. It gets a bit disheartening to see all the professional campaigns that run slick candidates with slick advertising saying their person is for lower taxes and less crime (like anyone would want otherwise). As we lose our belief in government we just want it to be entertaining like anything else in our culture.
Yet there still is a bit of trepidation about what we have done. During the day I was partnered with a woman who was the type who seemed to love the sound of her own voice. I've never seen a better example of a person who talked a lot and said very little. By the end of the evening I was more than a little glad to get away from her. I wonder if at the end of four years we will have tired of Mr. Ventura's act in the same way? Sure it's refreshing now to have a candid candidate but he still needs to follow through on what his campaign was about. What did mama always say? "It's much easier tearing something down than it is building something up;" Jesse was an effective critic of the status quo. It will be important that he offer a viable alternative. If you energize people and then disenfranchise them, their cynicism doubles and you usually don't get another chance.
I did find the first area our governor-elect has to do something about: crime in the streets. At 4:30 a.m. post election day, I wandered out to my car parked on the streets of Minneapolis. Upon inspection I noticed someone had broken my passenger side window. They had not taken anything but it was a rather disheartening scene to come back to. It was a bit nippy driving back in the chill of the twenty six degree air and I have a feeling I will be picking up shards of glass from my car for a while. I was cursing to myself all the way back home. "If only we had a baseball stadium there'd be more people on the streets, more activity, less crime and this senseless act would never have happened," I said trying to console myself as I was quickly losing all feelings in my ears.
For me the governor's race was the least interesting of all the state constitutional offices. I thought Ken Pentel of the Green Party was clearly the best candidate. He was a bright, practical and articulate candidate but he wasn't on my side of the stadium issue. Besides I've reached a point, like many, where I truly feel government has little ability to offer effective solutions. It is all just a matter of politics.
What happened last Tuesday was quite astonishing. I spent the day problem solving voting equipment in various precincts in northern Hennepin County. It was clear during the day that anybody who doubted that Mr. Ventura had struck a nerve had greatly underestimated his speak from the heart message. Precinct after precinct was packed with people- and many who have seemed to be the least interested in elections- young people.
Thus during the night while I was down at the Hennepin County Government Center helping accumulate results, it wasn't much of a shock what was happening. The people of Minnesota (at least the 37 percent that voted for Jesse) clearly saw this candidate as something other than just another politician. That during the campaign he was less than specific about what he'd do if elected didn't seem to bother them. That his communication style of talk show radio host speaking his mind regardless of the obstacles it will create in coalition building ( a necessity in accomplishing anything in the political system) actually appealed to many. It was a campaign rooted in anger and it touched a nerve in many people.
What Jesse was clearly about is less intrusive government. Yet there was a contradiction: how could voters vote for him and also overwhelmingly vote for government protection of our right to hunt and fish? (Likewise how could voters vote to abolish the State Treasurer's office and yet not vote for the only treasurer candidate who was for that issue?)
By election day I think like many, my view of Jesse as this eccentric fringe candidate who had no ability to be our next governor drastically had changed. Why not Jesse? What we have had is no longer working if for no other reason than no one seems to believe in it. To see people energized by a candidate, by a campaign rather than turned off into indifference was quite refreshing. After all the line between professional politics and grass roots efforts is just as great as the line between professional wrestling and other sports. It gets a bit disheartening to see all the professional campaigns that run slick candidates with slick advertising saying their person is for lower taxes and less crime (like anyone would want otherwise). As we lose our belief in government we just want it to be entertaining like anything else in our culture.
Yet there still is a bit of trepidation about what we have done. During the day I was partnered with a woman who was the type who seemed to love the sound of her own voice. I've never seen a better example of a person who talked a lot and said very little. By the end of the evening I was more than a little glad to get away from her. I wonder if at the end of four years we will have tired of Mr. Ventura's act in the same way? Sure it's refreshing now to have a candid candidate but he still needs to follow through on what his campaign was about. What did mama always say? "It's much easier tearing something down than it is building something up;" Jesse was an effective critic of the status quo. It will be important that he offer a viable alternative. If you energize people and then disenfranchise them, their cynicism doubles and you usually don't get another chance.
I did find the first area our governor-elect has to do something about: crime in the streets. At 4:30 a.m. post election day, I wandered out to my car parked on the streets of Minneapolis. Upon inspection I noticed someone had broken my passenger side window. They had not taken anything but it was a rather disheartening scene to come back to. It was a bit nippy driving back in the chill of the twenty six degree air and I have a feeling I will be picking up shards of glass from my car for a while. I was cursing to myself all the way back home. "If only we had a baseball stadium there'd be more people on the streets, more activity, less crime and this senseless act would never have happened," I said trying to console myself as I was quickly losing all feelings in my ears.
Monday, November 2, 1998
Domestic Dave
You may not notice it by looking at me but I ain't exactly an expert when it comes to home furnishing and decorating. I tend to lean toward comfort over style and thus my house contains a mishmash of contrasting colors, textures, and shapes. I figure what good is a piece of furniture that you are going to worry about whether or not someone sits on it? So I when I went to Linens 'n' Things last week to buy a new shower curtain I may have gotten a tad carried away.
My wannabe housemate had big plans for helping to eliminate the bachelor decor that my house obviously has. (I told her she had free rein to do as she pleased as long as she didn't touch the ever famous pink bathroom). Her criticisms of my decorating abilities were appreciated but I still think they were a bit harsh. First of all I may not be Mr. Art Deco when it comes to fashioning my household purchases but I do tend to lean on the side of being more Felix Ungerlike than Oscar Madisonlike. I am most definitely not a slob. I don't like clutter and a messy house bothers me (not quite to the degree of my sleep walking favorite mother of two who actually cleans her house in her sleep). I'm not exactly a neat freak but I do like a clean place to live. I think it may surprise those that know me best that I long ago so easily gave up the fight against cat hair (it was a hopeless cause after all)- the lil' guy sure sheds (Mr. Max has no need to worry about male pattern baldness). Still I must confess with more than a little trepidation that I've had the same shower curtain for at least the last seven years and I still use a set of sheets I had in college. Thus I was a bit perplexed to discover the price of replacements for the old reliables.
Since we are on an official boycott of Target I chose Linen 'n' Things simply because I figured they would have both a shower curtain and sheets. I must admit I was a bit overwhelmed when I walked in. Not only did I have quite a choice to make but I had no idea what an outrageous price was to pay for such items. I even had to sheepishly ask the saleslady what was bigger- a queen sized or twin sized bed since I wasn't exactly sure what I've been sleeping on for the last three years.
When I saw how much it was going to cost me to purchase a set of sheets I nearly ran from the store screaming. I was hoping to buy two sets and finally allow myself the luxury of getting rid of my 15 year old, now see through sheets. I looked a bit further and found a discontinued rack where they had some flannel sheets. Now I come from a house where we always used cotton sheets and thus that was the only fabric I've ever bought. I've experienced satin sheets once or twice in my life but I ain't exactly an emperor and they seemed a tad extravagant. I was leery of buying flannel sheets because I didn't know whether or not the change would interrupt my already wacky sleeping pattern or whether or not they required any extra care. Would they stand up to the sure to happen times when Mr. Max decides to urp up a hairball on my bed? But they were the cheapest set I could find so I put them in my shopping basket and hoped for the best.
Next up was a shower curtain. They had several patterns but quite frankly I'd hoped they would just have a clear sheet of plastic. I like to see what I'm doing in the shower. I picked out the clearest one they had, with little green squares on it since green is my favorite color. While in the area I also decided to pick up a bath mat since my last one disintegrated in my washing machine a few weeks back. I learned that bath mats are paired with larger bath mats and toilet seat covers. Once again I was brought up in a family where a toilet seat cover was determined to be an unnecessary luxury. But I decided to splurge since my toilet seat cover's paint has some cracks in it. Green all the way around.
I came home and installed all my new purchases. Mr. Max was quite curious with all the different smells and wrapping and unwrapping. Twenty minutes later he was enjoying the feel of flannel and I was wondering whether my toilet seat cover now clashed with my pink bathroom walls.
My wannabe housemate had big plans for helping to eliminate the bachelor decor that my house obviously has. (I told her she had free rein to do as she pleased as long as she didn't touch the ever famous pink bathroom). Her criticisms of my decorating abilities were appreciated but I still think they were a bit harsh. First of all I may not be Mr. Art Deco when it comes to fashioning my household purchases but I do tend to lean on the side of being more Felix Ungerlike than Oscar Madisonlike. I am most definitely not a slob. I don't like clutter and a messy house bothers me (not quite to the degree of my sleep walking favorite mother of two who actually cleans her house in her sleep). I'm not exactly a neat freak but I do like a clean place to live. I think it may surprise those that know me best that I long ago so easily gave up the fight against cat hair (it was a hopeless cause after all)- the lil' guy sure sheds (Mr. Max has no need to worry about male pattern baldness). Still I must confess with more than a little trepidation that I've had the same shower curtain for at least the last seven years and I still use a set of sheets I had in college. Thus I was a bit perplexed to discover the price of replacements for the old reliables.
Since we are on an official boycott of Target I chose Linen 'n' Things simply because I figured they would have both a shower curtain and sheets. I must admit I was a bit overwhelmed when I walked in. Not only did I have quite a choice to make but I had no idea what an outrageous price was to pay for such items. I even had to sheepishly ask the saleslady what was bigger- a queen sized or twin sized bed since I wasn't exactly sure what I've been sleeping on for the last three years.
When I saw how much it was going to cost me to purchase a set of sheets I nearly ran from the store screaming. I was hoping to buy two sets and finally allow myself the luxury of getting rid of my 15 year old, now see through sheets. I looked a bit further and found a discontinued rack where they had some flannel sheets. Now I come from a house where we always used cotton sheets and thus that was the only fabric I've ever bought. I've experienced satin sheets once or twice in my life but I ain't exactly an emperor and they seemed a tad extravagant. I was leery of buying flannel sheets because I didn't know whether or not the change would interrupt my already wacky sleeping pattern or whether or not they required any extra care. Would they stand up to the sure to happen times when Mr. Max decides to urp up a hairball on my bed? But they were the cheapest set I could find so I put them in my shopping basket and hoped for the best.
Next up was a shower curtain. They had several patterns but quite frankly I'd hoped they would just have a clear sheet of plastic. I like to see what I'm doing in the shower. I picked out the clearest one they had, with little green squares on it since green is my favorite color. While in the area I also decided to pick up a bath mat since my last one disintegrated in my washing machine a few weeks back. I learned that bath mats are paired with larger bath mats and toilet seat covers. Once again I was brought up in a family where a toilet seat cover was determined to be an unnecessary luxury. But I decided to splurge since my toilet seat cover's paint has some cracks in it. Green all the way around.
I came home and installed all my new purchases. Mr. Max was quite curious with all the different smells and wrapping and unwrapping. Twenty minutes later he was enjoying the feel of flannel and I was wondering whether my toilet seat cover now clashed with my pink bathroom walls.
Monday, October 26, 1998
Local Boy Makes Good
I reached a place in 1991 after four years of floundering (or was it struggling? or was it drowning?) where I knew I had to make some changes before I could proceed forward. There were two defining events that helped me decide what I was going to do.
First I took a trip via Amtrak out east where I visited much of America's richest history in Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington DC. I did a lot of walking and writing on that trip. I would start off with a particular destination in mind and allow myself to drift into any area that looked interesting to me. By the end of the trip my knees were so sore from all the walking that I could hardly make it up a flight of stairs. Yet it was a liberating feeling knowing I could go anywhere I wanted, that I didn't have to restrict myself in any way other than to just go to where I felt safe.
The next summer Bob Dylan played five shows at the Orpheum in Minneapolis. Despite not having the kind of money where I should do such things, and still feeling a bit sheepish about being THAT big a fan, I bought tickets for all five shows. The performances at those five shows intrigued and inspired me. Dylan played fifty different songs over the five nights. It was if he was out to prove something yet at the same time the consistent quality workmanlike effort of all five shows was somehow comforting. None of the shows stick out in my memories from the rest but I do remember my favorite individual moments- there were breathtaking versions of Little Moses and Boots of Spanish Leather, a pensive Visions of Johanna and a truly eccentric Idiot Wind. I found myself each night sitting at the end of the show with an astonished goofy grin on my face.
It was at this point where I was beginning to understand a message in Dylan's, by then, constant touring. If there has been one constant in his career it is to expect him to do what is not expected of him to do. At times it's as if he wants to deliberately sabotage the lofty admiration his work has created with his fans. By hitting the road and performing night in and night out with very little publicity, Dylan found a way to maintain his own focus with what is apparently most important to him- expressing himself through his music. In other words he defused the hype by letting his music do his speaking for him.
This message inspired me. His determination to just be himself turned on a light inside. I realized instead of trying to constantly analyze what was and was not working in my life (and my own now painful immediate past) I had to just get on with doing what I knew how to do. There was also a feeling that if I was going to go down in flames, I had to do it on my own terms, which meant I had to stop listening to all the advice from well meaning friends, family, co-workers, doctors, clergypeople, politicians, analysts, writers, singer/songwriters and whoever else I had turned to for guidance. I had for whatever reason stopped listening to the one true voice that really mattered- my own.
Seven years later I have found myself at another crossroads of sorts and when it was announced that Dylan was playing his first ever show in Duluth where he was born and then the next night in the Twin Cities. I knew I was going to go to both shows if for no other reason than I had to get some time away from my routine to clear my head and decide what exactly comes next.
The drive to Duluth was rejuvenating in itself. It was a few weeks too late to enjoy the many colors of autumn, but the brisk fall air was mood altering and refreshing. Duluth of course is a pastoral city with its hills overlooking Lake Superior. I spent a few hours walking by the Lake watching the ripples of the water under a nearly cloudless sky. (Question: How come Lake Superior smells like apple cider? What is up with that?)
I went inside the DECC arena about an hour before the show. There was excitement in the air as people wondered how and if Dylan would do anything special to recognize the fact he was playing at his birthplace for the first time. The opening act, Dave Alvin and the Guilty Men gave a scorching, foot stomping countryish set (Brush with Fame- they stayed in the same motel as me- and I found myself having coffee alone with Mr. Alvin the next morning). Alvin is a talented guitar player with a booming baritone voice. (Another little sidenote here: Wednesday morning I was driving to work when I noticed something happened to my voice the night before- and it was now about an octave lower than usual. It sounded so funky I wanted to turn around and go home and record a new message for my answering machine. That's the type of voice Alvin has).
"Thought I'd shaken the wonder and the phantoms of my youth. Rainy days on the Great Lakes, walkin' the hills of old Duluth..."
My seat was to the right of the stage about a hundred feet from the band. It was the best seat I've ever had at a Dylan show. (Trivia fact: There have actually been two shows I've seen where I never even really saw Bob. At the Metrodome show we had seats behind the stage and every now and then we'd get a glimpse of him as he wandered backstage. At Riverfest in 1989 I was at the back of a throng of people and occasionally when the crowd swayed and parted the right way, I'd get a glimpse of the top of his hair.)
Two years back the World's Greatest Toothpaste Orderer asked me on our way to Mankato why I liked Bob Dylan's music so much. "He has it right about relationships," I said knowing that didn't nearly capture the exact reason. There are just certain artists that reach you- that express themselves in a way that lets you know you aren't always entirely alone; that capture what is inside better than you yourself can. For me Dylan is such an artist. Great art doesn't necessarily make life make any more sense but it gives one hope that there is a sense to life.
Dylan and his band strolled on to stage about 8:30 and opened with a searing version of Gotta Serve Somebody. It was a wonderful opening song, much different than the boogie arrangement used in the early '90's. This was sermonizing blues with Bob stretching out the words in a most playful manner. "YOU KNOW you're going to have to SERVVVVE SOMEBODDY. It might be the devil, it might be the Lord but you're gonna have to serve SOMEBODY..." Other highlights? A wistful Tomorrow is a Long Time, rocking acoustic versions of Tangled Up In Blue, and Don't Think Twice, and a determined and dramatic Masters of War. An example of Dylan's impressive performing abilities was demonstrated with a lilting version of Just Like a Woman. The recently released Live 1966 which features a phenomenal version of the song was nearly matched with this performance although the mood of the two versions could not have been any different. In the 1966 live version Dylan sings it with such a weariness, a resigned sadness at losing his girl to a world he never knew. In the 1998 version he is more scornful, blaming himself for letting the other get to him as much as she did.
All the Time Out of Mind songs (which I was hearing live for the first time) worked extremely well. Dylan snarled out the lyrics to Cold Irons Bound with such biting precision it was spooky. "There's too many people, too many to call. I thought some of them were friends of mine, I was wrong about them all..."Can't Wait my least favorite song on the CD was spellbinding with its hypnotizing riff. Til I Fell in Love With You expressed a sentiment I've felt a time or two better than I ever could. "I was all right 'til I fell in love with you." And Love Sick (the first encore) gave me goose pimples. "Just don't know what to do... I'd give anything just to BEEEE with you."
The trip back to the Twin Cities was full of anticipation. The second concert was to be shared with someone whose exposure to Bob's music was buying Time Out of Mind based upon my review. I so wanted to share my love of his music with her, and so afraid that she'd think it was all so silly. We bided our time through Joni Mitchell's set out in the Target Center lobby(?) where she educated me on what makes a good shoe (she determined there were many people wearing dreadful shoes). She also was the first to spot Norm Coleman riding up the escalator. Coleman was mostly left alone (and he was alone- what's up with that?) until some guys started chanting "Jesse! Jesse! Jesse! behind him. (Earlier I had spotted Chris Wright, Grassroots Party candidate for governor whose single issue platform is the legalization of pot.)
CERTAINLY
The song selection on this second night was disappointedly similar to the Duluth show. Dylan performed only three songs that weren't performed the previous night (It Ain't Me Babe, My Back Pages and Make You Feel My Love- the latter which I was strangely moved by like never before). My favorite moment was (of course) when my friend turned to me and said, "I love his voice!" She also was somewhat amused by my proclamation before the show that if he did Rainy Day Woman 12 & 35 (everybody must get stoned- indeed) I was going to walk out. So when the band blared into the opening chords, she giggled and sang along.
Bob has developed a set of impressive rubber leg moves since the last time I saw him. In Duluth he was having quite the time doing this heal toe- heal toe- half duck walking, half moon walking thing around the stage. At the Target Center he was doing more of what we called "marking time" in marching band (lifting up each leg in time). I made a mental note that I will have to add these steps to my own dance repertoire.
"There's some people that you can't forget, even though you only seen them one time or two..." In the middle of I'll Remember You I turned to my friend and told her that I was going to cry upon hearing the song again. She rolled her eyes most assuredly and I grabbed her sleeve and it was a moment I'll never ever forget. "In the end, my dear sweet friend, I'll remember you." It was a very special feeling to be with two of my favorite people.
UMBU
I was paying close attention to my friend's reactions to the concert and the looks on her face were as usual, priceless (to the woman to our right who didn't bring a cigarette lighter to flash but rather one of those fire place starting ignitors; to the gentleman in front of her with five strands of hair standing straight up as if he had moosed them up for some reason).
She turned to me at the end of the evening and asked me (over the swirling techno music we were listening to) what Dylan song contained the lyric, "Don't know if I saw you if I'd kiss you or kill you..." She is such a good listener and I was so glad I asked her to the show with me. A blue eyed brown eyed girl who has all the right moves. She can crack me up with a simple look. She can finish my sentences correctly. The connection is wonderful. When I informed her we were to sing along to Blowin in the Wind her response was a great example of what I have wondrously found to be who she is. I sang the line "How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man?" to her and she answered quite assuredly- "Four." Tee hee. Most impressive indeed.
FEELING THE POWER
Destiny is often a false idol. To believe that things always happen for a reason is to be deceived. Sometimes that storm door just shuts behind you and you don't have the key. You don't want to show your panic in front of those that would probably want to help out, but perhaps really cannot, at being locked out from your own home but you pray deep within that things will work out. Maybe the door is merely stuck and not actually locked. Things sometimes do work out.
One of the themes running throughout Dylan's work is the concept of stopping time by living in the moment (thus Time Out of Mind). During both concerts I sat there enjoying the energy of the moment and wishing it would never end. I made a conscious effort to try and remember everything- try my best to soak it ALL in so I could carry it with me wherever I end up next. Another lesson learned over the years? It's futile to run away from memories because there are always more just around the corner. At the same time to be able to share a moment with another is something we should never take for granted because it may never be again. Or in another's words: "So now I'm going back again, I've got to get to her somehow. All the people that we used to know are an illusion to me now. Some are mathematicians, some are truck driver's wives. Don't know how it all got started, don't know what they're doing with their lives. Be me I'm still on the road, heading for another joint. We always did feel the same we just saw it from a different point of view. Tangled up in blue."
A trip, a concert, a friendship, a piece of art, a song,- the long and winding path is often difficult to discern and distinguish. You don't want to make too much out of day to day events, but when something special happens along the way you just have to allow yourself to feel a little bit inspired. It's not always a bad thing.
First I took a trip via Amtrak out east where I visited much of America's richest history in Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington DC. I did a lot of walking and writing on that trip. I would start off with a particular destination in mind and allow myself to drift into any area that looked interesting to me. By the end of the trip my knees were so sore from all the walking that I could hardly make it up a flight of stairs. Yet it was a liberating feeling knowing I could go anywhere I wanted, that I didn't have to restrict myself in any way other than to just go to where I felt safe.
The next summer Bob Dylan played five shows at the Orpheum in Minneapolis. Despite not having the kind of money where I should do such things, and still feeling a bit sheepish about being THAT big a fan, I bought tickets for all five shows. The performances at those five shows intrigued and inspired me. Dylan played fifty different songs over the five nights. It was if he was out to prove something yet at the same time the consistent quality workmanlike effort of all five shows was somehow comforting. None of the shows stick out in my memories from the rest but I do remember my favorite individual moments- there were breathtaking versions of Little Moses and Boots of Spanish Leather, a pensive Visions of Johanna and a truly eccentric Idiot Wind. I found myself each night sitting at the end of the show with an astonished goofy grin on my face.
It was at this point where I was beginning to understand a message in Dylan's, by then, constant touring. If there has been one constant in his career it is to expect him to do what is not expected of him to do. At times it's as if he wants to deliberately sabotage the lofty admiration his work has created with his fans. By hitting the road and performing night in and night out with very little publicity, Dylan found a way to maintain his own focus with what is apparently most important to him- expressing himself through his music. In other words he defused the hype by letting his music do his speaking for him.
This message inspired me. His determination to just be himself turned on a light inside. I realized instead of trying to constantly analyze what was and was not working in my life (and my own now painful immediate past) I had to just get on with doing what I knew how to do. There was also a feeling that if I was going to go down in flames, I had to do it on my own terms, which meant I had to stop listening to all the advice from well meaning friends, family, co-workers, doctors, clergypeople, politicians, analysts, writers, singer/songwriters and whoever else I had turned to for guidance. I had for whatever reason stopped listening to the one true voice that really mattered- my own.
Seven years later I have found myself at another crossroads of sorts and when it was announced that Dylan was playing his first ever show in Duluth where he was born and then the next night in the Twin Cities. I knew I was going to go to both shows if for no other reason than I had to get some time away from my routine to clear my head and decide what exactly comes next.
The drive to Duluth was rejuvenating in itself. It was a few weeks too late to enjoy the many colors of autumn, but the brisk fall air was mood altering and refreshing. Duluth of course is a pastoral city with its hills overlooking Lake Superior. I spent a few hours walking by the Lake watching the ripples of the water under a nearly cloudless sky. (Question: How come Lake Superior smells like apple cider? What is up with that?)
I went inside the DECC arena about an hour before the show. There was excitement in the air as people wondered how and if Dylan would do anything special to recognize the fact he was playing at his birthplace for the first time. The opening act, Dave Alvin and the Guilty Men gave a scorching, foot stomping countryish set (Brush with Fame- they stayed in the same motel as me- and I found myself having coffee alone with Mr. Alvin the next morning). Alvin is a talented guitar player with a booming baritone voice. (Another little sidenote here: Wednesday morning I was driving to work when I noticed something happened to my voice the night before- and it was now about an octave lower than usual. It sounded so funky I wanted to turn around and go home and record a new message for my answering machine. That's the type of voice Alvin has).
"Thought I'd shaken the wonder and the phantoms of my youth. Rainy days on the Great Lakes, walkin' the hills of old Duluth..."
My seat was to the right of the stage about a hundred feet from the band. It was the best seat I've ever had at a Dylan show. (Trivia fact: There have actually been two shows I've seen where I never even really saw Bob. At the Metrodome show we had seats behind the stage and every now and then we'd get a glimpse of him as he wandered backstage. At Riverfest in 1989 I was at the back of a throng of people and occasionally when the crowd swayed and parted the right way, I'd get a glimpse of the top of his hair.)
Two years back the World's Greatest Toothpaste Orderer asked me on our way to Mankato why I liked Bob Dylan's music so much. "He has it right about relationships," I said knowing that didn't nearly capture the exact reason. There are just certain artists that reach you- that express themselves in a way that lets you know you aren't always entirely alone; that capture what is inside better than you yourself can. For me Dylan is such an artist. Great art doesn't necessarily make life make any more sense but it gives one hope that there is a sense to life.
Dylan and his band strolled on to stage about 8:30 and opened with a searing version of Gotta Serve Somebody. It was a wonderful opening song, much different than the boogie arrangement used in the early '90's. This was sermonizing blues with Bob stretching out the words in a most playful manner. "YOU KNOW you're going to have to SERVVVVE SOMEBODDY. It might be the devil, it might be the Lord but you're gonna have to serve SOMEBODY..." Other highlights? A wistful Tomorrow is a Long Time, rocking acoustic versions of Tangled Up In Blue, and Don't Think Twice, and a determined and dramatic Masters of War. An example of Dylan's impressive performing abilities was demonstrated with a lilting version of Just Like a Woman. The recently released Live 1966 which features a phenomenal version of the song was nearly matched with this performance although the mood of the two versions could not have been any different. In the 1966 live version Dylan sings it with such a weariness, a resigned sadness at losing his girl to a world he never knew. In the 1998 version he is more scornful, blaming himself for letting the other get to him as much as she did.
All the Time Out of Mind songs (which I was hearing live for the first time) worked extremely well. Dylan snarled out the lyrics to Cold Irons Bound with such biting precision it was spooky. "There's too many people, too many to call. I thought some of them were friends of mine, I was wrong about them all..."Can't Wait my least favorite song on the CD was spellbinding with its hypnotizing riff. Til I Fell in Love With You expressed a sentiment I've felt a time or two better than I ever could. "I was all right 'til I fell in love with you." And Love Sick (the first encore) gave me goose pimples. "Just don't know what to do... I'd give anything just to BEEEE with you."
The trip back to the Twin Cities was full of anticipation. The second concert was to be shared with someone whose exposure to Bob's music was buying Time Out of Mind based upon my review. I so wanted to share my love of his music with her, and so afraid that she'd think it was all so silly. We bided our time through Joni Mitchell's set out in the Target Center lobby(?) where she educated me on what makes a good shoe (she determined there were many people wearing dreadful shoes). She also was the first to spot Norm Coleman riding up the escalator. Coleman was mostly left alone (and he was alone- what's up with that?) until some guys started chanting "Jesse! Jesse! Jesse! behind him. (Earlier I had spotted Chris Wright, Grassroots Party candidate for governor whose single issue platform is the legalization of pot.)
CERTAINLY
The song selection on this second night was disappointedly similar to the Duluth show. Dylan performed only three songs that weren't performed the previous night (It Ain't Me Babe, My Back Pages and Make You Feel My Love- the latter which I was strangely moved by like never before). My favorite moment was (of course) when my friend turned to me and said, "I love his voice!" She also was somewhat amused by my proclamation before the show that if he did Rainy Day Woman 12 & 35 (everybody must get stoned- indeed) I was going to walk out. So when the band blared into the opening chords, she giggled and sang along.
Bob has developed a set of impressive rubber leg moves since the last time I saw him. In Duluth he was having quite the time doing this heal toe- heal toe- half duck walking, half moon walking thing around the stage. At the Target Center he was doing more of what we called "marking time" in marching band (lifting up each leg in time). I made a mental note that I will have to add these steps to my own dance repertoire.
"There's some people that you can't forget, even though you only seen them one time or two..." In the middle of I'll Remember You I turned to my friend and told her that I was going to cry upon hearing the song again. She rolled her eyes most assuredly and I grabbed her sleeve and it was a moment I'll never ever forget. "In the end, my dear sweet friend, I'll remember you." It was a very special feeling to be with two of my favorite people.
UMBU
I was paying close attention to my friend's reactions to the concert and the looks on her face were as usual, priceless (to the woman to our right who didn't bring a cigarette lighter to flash but rather one of those fire place starting ignitors; to the gentleman in front of her with five strands of hair standing straight up as if he had moosed them up for some reason).
She turned to me at the end of the evening and asked me (over the swirling techno music we were listening to) what Dylan song contained the lyric, "Don't know if I saw you if I'd kiss you or kill you..." She is such a good listener and I was so glad I asked her to the show with me. A blue eyed brown eyed girl who has all the right moves. She can crack me up with a simple look. She can finish my sentences correctly. The connection is wonderful. When I informed her we were to sing along to Blowin in the Wind her response was a great example of what I have wondrously found to be who she is. I sang the line "How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man?" to her and she answered quite assuredly- "Four." Tee hee. Most impressive indeed.
FEELING THE POWER
Destiny is often a false idol. To believe that things always happen for a reason is to be deceived. Sometimes that storm door just shuts behind you and you don't have the key. You don't want to show your panic in front of those that would probably want to help out, but perhaps really cannot, at being locked out from your own home but you pray deep within that things will work out. Maybe the door is merely stuck and not actually locked. Things sometimes do work out.
One of the themes running throughout Dylan's work is the concept of stopping time by living in the moment (thus Time Out of Mind). During both concerts I sat there enjoying the energy of the moment and wishing it would never end. I made a conscious effort to try and remember everything- try my best to soak it ALL in so I could carry it with me wherever I end up next. Another lesson learned over the years? It's futile to run away from memories because there are always more just around the corner. At the same time to be able to share a moment with another is something we should never take for granted because it may never be again. Or in another's words: "So now I'm going back again, I've got to get to her somehow. All the people that we used to know are an illusion to me now. Some are mathematicians, some are truck driver's wives. Don't know how it all got started, don't know what they're doing with their lives. Be me I'm still on the road, heading for another joint. We always did feel the same we just saw it from a different point of view. Tangled up in blue."
A trip, a concert, a friendship, a piece of art, a song,- the long and winding path is often difficult to discern and distinguish. You don't want to make too much out of day to day events, but when something special happens along the way you just have to allow yourself to feel a little bit inspired. It's not always a bad thing.
Monday, October 19, 1998
Soup's On
In the six plus years we have done this weekly newsletter, I don't think we have ever published a restaurant review. Since we have covered just about every other subject imaginable we are way past due. And who better to do the first one than your friendly neighborhood editor, fresh out of work, eagerly looking for a new career?
Despite having limited experience in the field, I do come with some clout. It was me who helped determine Boston Market's fate. As I was driving down Division Street in St. Cloud looking for a place to eat dinner, I was being my usual wiener like indecisive self when it comes to such minor matters. Just as I was ready to throw in the towel and stop at McDonald's for a fish sandwich, I happened to see a Boston Market up a few blocks. I remember my friend Spunky once recommended their turkey sandwich so I decided that was exactly what my dinner was destined to be that evening.
As I got closer to the restaurant however, I noticed it was across the four-lane street and I would have to make a left turn, sans stoplights, across two lanes of busy traffic. I didn't need a Boston Market turkey sandwich that badly. Fortunately I seemed to come across St. Cloud's restaurant row and there was a Perkins right to my right. Later that night when I got back to my motel room I turned on the news and heard the Boston Market chain is facing serious financial woes. Ironic? I think not. If you ain't on the right side of the street, forget about surviving as a business.
I actually had two meals at the St. Cloud Perkins. For dinner that evening I enjoyed a delectable (although a bit too hot- I burned my tongue) fish sandwich. I ordered chicken vegetable soup with my meal. The soup was good but as a bonus one of my other options, french fries, also came with my meal. My server, a pleasant young lass, joked about my luck.
Later on in the week I ate breakfast at the same Perkins. This time around the service was slow. My over easy eggs were fine, but my hash browns tasted like well water. Quite frankly I was disappointed in the meal and the restaurant. Call me quirky but I am much more likely to eat breakfast at Perkins than dinner and my breakfast was nowhere near the quality of that mouth watering fish sandwich. This was merely a meal by rote, nothing at all unique to enjoy.
The ambiance of the restaurant was pleasant enough. I sat behind three young women (coeds?) who must have been on their way home from school (they were talking about having gotten up at 4:30 that morning to hit the road). They were talking math, triangles and such and it brought me back to those frightful days of college math when I didn't have a clue, unlike today. Not that I was eavesdropping but they were also talking about the classes they were planning on taking in the future on their way to changing the world. Oh to be ambitious again...
The best part of any Perkins of course is that gigantic flag. It's just plain big! I must admit the next best part of my experiences at Perkins (as has been in the past) is they put a whole pot of coffee on the table for you whether you are with someone or not. Put the combination of the two together and you leave Perkins a wired patriot. The background music was a tad annoying- mostly 1990's country music. I was beginning to think it would almost be preferable to have no music at all when the Traveling Wilbury's End of the Line came on and seemed strangely appropriate for the moment. "Well it's all right, even when you've got nothing to say- every day's a different day."
Being the connoisseur of fine foods that I am I must point out that the menu offered by this restaurant is enough to please most people. You want a hamburger, they got them. You want a salad? They have them too. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, Perkins aims to please. Sure you can get the same meal anywhere but that is exactly the point. When you go to a restaurant like Perkins you don't want each and every one to be different. What you are looking for is something familiar in a foreign setting. A big flag, eggs over easy, fish sandwiches, yes indeed, to go anywhere and have the same choices does soothe ones' soul just a bit. Overall my dining experience at Perkins was exactly what I expected: OK food, OK environment, fairly cheap and painless. That you can go into any Perkins in the country and find just about the same thing can be comforting during those homesick times.
Despite having limited experience in the field, I do come with some clout. It was me who helped determine Boston Market's fate. As I was driving down Division Street in St. Cloud looking for a place to eat dinner, I was being my usual wiener like indecisive self when it comes to such minor matters. Just as I was ready to throw in the towel and stop at McDonald's for a fish sandwich, I happened to see a Boston Market up a few blocks. I remember my friend Spunky once recommended their turkey sandwich so I decided that was exactly what my dinner was destined to be that evening.
As I got closer to the restaurant however, I noticed it was across the four-lane street and I would have to make a left turn, sans stoplights, across two lanes of busy traffic. I didn't need a Boston Market turkey sandwich that badly. Fortunately I seemed to come across St. Cloud's restaurant row and there was a Perkins right to my right. Later that night when I got back to my motel room I turned on the news and heard the Boston Market chain is facing serious financial woes. Ironic? I think not. If you ain't on the right side of the street, forget about surviving as a business.
I actually had two meals at the St. Cloud Perkins. For dinner that evening I enjoyed a delectable (although a bit too hot- I burned my tongue) fish sandwich. I ordered chicken vegetable soup with my meal. The soup was good but as a bonus one of my other options, french fries, also came with my meal. My server, a pleasant young lass, joked about my luck.
Later on in the week I ate breakfast at the same Perkins. This time around the service was slow. My over easy eggs were fine, but my hash browns tasted like well water. Quite frankly I was disappointed in the meal and the restaurant. Call me quirky but I am much more likely to eat breakfast at Perkins than dinner and my breakfast was nowhere near the quality of that mouth watering fish sandwich. This was merely a meal by rote, nothing at all unique to enjoy.
The ambiance of the restaurant was pleasant enough. I sat behind three young women (coeds?) who must have been on their way home from school (they were talking about having gotten up at 4:30 that morning to hit the road). They were talking math, triangles and such and it brought me back to those frightful days of college math when I didn't have a clue, unlike today. Not that I was eavesdropping but they were also talking about the classes they were planning on taking in the future on their way to changing the world. Oh to be ambitious again...
The best part of any Perkins of course is that gigantic flag. It's just plain big! I must admit the next best part of my experiences at Perkins (as has been in the past) is they put a whole pot of coffee on the table for you whether you are with someone or not. Put the combination of the two together and you leave Perkins a wired patriot. The background music was a tad annoying- mostly 1990's country music. I was beginning to think it would almost be preferable to have no music at all when the Traveling Wilbury's End of the Line came on and seemed strangely appropriate for the moment. "Well it's all right, even when you've got nothing to say- every day's a different day."
Being the connoisseur of fine foods that I am I must point out that the menu offered by this restaurant is enough to please most people. You want a hamburger, they got them. You want a salad? They have them too. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, Perkins aims to please. Sure you can get the same meal anywhere but that is exactly the point. When you go to a restaurant like Perkins you don't want each and every one to be different. What you are looking for is something familiar in a foreign setting. A big flag, eggs over easy, fish sandwiches, yes indeed, to go anywhere and have the same choices does soothe ones' soul just a bit. Overall my dining experience at Perkins was exactly what I expected: OK food, OK environment, fairly cheap and painless. That you can go into any Perkins in the country and find just about the same thing can be comforting during those homesick times.
Monday, October 5, 1998
Cloud Nine
I think it was television's Van Patten family that first said, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Generally I don't disagree with that belief but "old" and "new" of course are highly subjective terms. Take for example, our good friend Kurbie the dog who we were told last week has learned that the reason humans sleep with our heads outside our covers is to breath better. Seems Kurbie has taken to sleeping next to his best friend, little head outside the covers, little body tucked in warmly next to hers'. A lesson well learned and a reward well worthwhile I'm sure.
I must say that making the drive from St. Paul to St. Cloud and back again every day sure gives me time for such major contemplation. I've thought about buying some books on tape to pass the time but I'm rather content with my selection of music which I can enjoy while singing at the top of my lungs. Somehow screaming along to a John Grisham novel doesn't hold the same appeal.
The company I'm doing some work for has agreed to pay for a motel room a couple nights during the week for me but I haven't taken advantage of that yet. I was planning on staying in St. Cloud last Wednesday and Thursday and then I remembered that Thursday was Max's birthday (or more precisely the birthday I assigned to him when I first brought him in for his shots- and by the way that makes him a Libra, Mary). Since I have missed several of his birthdays over the past few years I figured I owed him the pleasure of my company for the evening. I am dorkiness defined. But he seemed to really enjoy the canned treat.
The absolute worst part of the drive is coming back home and crossing the Crow River where Wright County borders Hennepin County. As I see the sign for Hennepin County I think to myself, "I'M ALMOST HOME!" But it still is a good thirty minutes from Maple Grove to my house (especially during rush hour). Let your expectations get the better of you and the fall is so much harder. Someday I'll learn better.
I did take a day off during the middle of the week and went downtown St. Paul for lunch with my friend. We got some chocolate coolers and headed to Harriet Island. We sat by the river and enjoyed the sunny fall day despite our coolers having become warmers by the time we reached our destination. I think the afternoon helped me get my groove back- that and the season premiere of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (sorry I have to disagree with you LeAnn- it was a swell opener).
As all of you know being such devoted fans of the show, last season ended with Buffy leaving her mother and friends behind in Sunnydale after having killed her boyfriend, the evil vampire turned good, turned evil again, Angel, to save the rest of us from the end of the world. The burden of being the chosen one, the responsibility of being the slayer, had gotten to be too much. Buffy wanted a chance for a quieter, simpler life where she was merely responsible to herself and no one else. So she winds up in a small town working at a truck stop as a waitress under the pseudonym "Anne" in a restaurant that has peach pie. Could there be a better, a more accurate mirror for the past half year of my own life? It's as if the producers of the show had pulled a Linda Tripp and wired one of my friends to put my life story on television.
The notion of what comes next for me is a fresh start somewhere else crossed my mind recently. Heck I think the seeds were planted during my trip to Japan. The strange feelings of a foreign familiarity cut as deep as the feelings of for once in my life not feeling so different from everyone else while at the same time never having felt quite as different ever before. Japan is a country where loyalty and honor are deeply rooted. To do something such as leave your job (and your company), especially without something else lined up, wouldn't be considered. I remember how when Al and I would ask our guides their views on America, each of them admired the "freedom" of Americans. One fellow mentioned feeling he already was with the company he would be with the rest of his life.
For those of you who haven't seen the Japanese movie, Shall We Dance, I suggest watching it for a taste of what the Japanese society is like. The movie is about a man who on his way home from work on the train spots a beautiful young woman at work in her dance studio. He becomes obsessed with her, and they have an affair, not one like our President, but one where they learn to share the same passion- for ballroom dancing. The movie is about taking chances and following one's heart; something that the Japanese don't normally do.
Getting back to Buffy, her quest was appreciated but not as much as another quiet moment with my friend. As we were leaving Harriet Island she reminded me of the importance of not giving up on dreams. Then she looked at the clouds, with the most wonderful look on her face. She loves clouds. It reminded me of another day with a certain person who saw puppies in cloud formations. I saw the potential storms that lie ahead. The perspective you allow yourself to take does make all the difference in the world.
I must say that making the drive from St. Paul to St. Cloud and back again every day sure gives me time for such major contemplation. I've thought about buying some books on tape to pass the time but I'm rather content with my selection of music which I can enjoy while singing at the top of my lungs. Somehow screaming along to a John Grisham novel doesn't hold the same appeal.
The company I'm doing some work for has agreed to pay for a motel room a couple nights during the week for me but I haven't taken advantage of that yet. I was planning on staying in St. Cloud last Wednesday and Thursday and then I remembered that Thursday was Max's birthday (or more precisely the birthday I assigned to him when I first brought him in for his shots- and by the way that makes him a Libra, Mary). Since I have missed several of his birthdays over the past few years I figured I owed him the pleasure of my company for the evening. I am dorkiness defined. But he seemed to really enjoy the canned treat.
The absolute worst part of the drive is coming back home and crossing the Crow River where Wright County borders Hennepin County. As I see the sign for Hennepin County I think to myself, "I'M ALMOST HOME!" But it still is a good thirty minutes from Maple Grove to my house (especially during rush hour). Let your expectations get the better of you and the fall is so much harder. Someday I'll learn better.
I did take a day off during the middle of the week and went downtown St. Paul for lunch with my friend. We got some chocolate coolers and headed to Harriet Island. We sat by the river and enjoyed the sunny fall day despite our coolers having become warmers by the time we reached our destination. I think the afternoon helped me get my groove back- that and the season premiere of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (sorry I have to disagree with you LeAnn- it was a swell opener).
As all of you know being such devoted fans of the show, last season ended with Buffy leaving her mother and friends behind in Sunnydale after having killed her boyfriend, the evil vampire turned good, turned evil again, Angel, to save the rest of us from the end of the world. The burden of being the chosen one, the responsibility of being the slayer, had gotten to be too much. Buffy wanted a chance for a quieter, simpler life where she was merely responsible to herself and no one else. So she winds up in a small town working at a truck stop as a waitress under the pseudonym "Anne" in a restaurant that has peach pie. Could there be a better, a more accurate mirror for the past half year of my own life? It's as if the producers of the show had pulled a Linda Tripp and wired one of my friends to put my life story on television.
The notion of what comes next for me is a fresh start somewhere else crossed my mind recently. Heck I think the seeds were planted during my trip to Japan. The strange feelings of a foreign familiarity cut as deep as the feelings of for once in my life not feeling so different from everyone else while at the same time never having felt quite as different ever before. Japan is a country where loyalty and honor are deeply rooted. To do something such as leave your job (and your company), especially without something else lined up, wouldn't be considered. I remember how when Al and I would ask our guides their views on America, each of them admired the "freedom" of Americans. One fellow mentioned feeling he already was with the company he would be with the rest of his life.
For those of you who haven't seen the Japanese movie, Shall We Dance, I suggest watching it for a taste of what the Japanese society is like. The movie is about a man who on his way home from work on the train spots a beautiful young woman at work in her dance studio. He becomes obsessed with her, and they have an affair, not one like our President, but one where they learn to share the same passion- for ballroom dancing. The movie is about taking chances and following one's heart; something that the Japanese don't normally do.
Getting back to Buffy, her quest was appreciated but not as much as another quiet moment with my friend. As we were leaving Harriet Island she reminded me of the importance of not giving up on dreams. Then she looked at the clouds, with the most wonderful look on her face. She loves clouds. It reminded me of another day with a certain person who saw puppies in cloud formations. I saw the potential storms that lie ahead. The perspective you allow yourself to take does make all the difference in the world.
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