I was probably the first person in Manistee County to purchase the new state park Recreation Passport.
You see, my birthday was this past Friday, Oct. 1, the first day they were available.
A little background: instead of getting the $24 sticker you put in the corner of your vehicle window, it’s now only $10 and has been folded into the license renewal process.
The little 2011 sticker has a little P on it that will get me into any park until my next birthday.
There was no better present to buy myself than access to all the wonderful state parks and recreation areas, 98 in total.
Keeping these parks well-funded is necessary to keeping alive the long and storied outdoor tradition in our state.
Growing up in Michigan, camping was always a cheap way for our family to go on vacations.
Two weekends ago, my older brother, Chris, and I were sitting at the Platte River State Campground in darkness, drinking beers after an unsuccessful night of salmon fishing on the river.
We sat in fold-out chairs with our waders around our knees jaw-jacking with his brother-in-law, Andy, our other cohort in our outdoor sporting misadventures.
I don’t know what brought it up, but we started talking about camping. Maybe, since we couldn’t swap fish stories, we had to settle on a different subject.
My bro and I began reminiscing about camping when we were very small kids in the late 1970s, when my old man and my mom would pack us into the gray Chevy Suburban and we’d get out of Bay City.
“We used to go for two-weeks at a time! We’d go way up to the Porcupine Mountains in the Upper Peninsula,” my brother exclaimed. “That’s where we went when Mom broke her arm and had the Afro.”
Being only about 2 or 3 years old at the time, I don’t remember the trip. My brother, five years older, recalls a little bit better the camping trip where my little ol’ mom proved herself a true trooper.
The camping trip where she had the broken arm and the Afro.
I don’t remember it, but it was slightly my fault: my mom broke her arm in order to save my head from getting bashed in.
I was a tad hyper when I was a child. One spring day, to keep me entertained, my mom was pushing me around on a tricycle near an empty swimming pool.
Being the little spazz that I was, I managed to tip right over into the pool. My mom was luckily right there to grab me and we both fell into the empty pool together.
The arm she was using to cradle my head snapped in two during the tumble to the bottom.
Her arm was set in the plaster cast in an uncomfortable position: elbow bent in a V, her hand pointed away from her head, very Egyptian-like.
Since she couldn’t style her normally straight hair, she went to the salon and received a very poofy black perm.
My little Greek mom now not only resembled King Tut, but a Black Panther as well.
Still, that summer, nothing stopped our camping trips.
“You were only a baby,” my brother, who now has two kids of his own told me while we sat near the Platte River. “I don’t know how she took us camping.”
But there’s evidence.
A picture exists that makes my mom cringe with embarrassment when we bring it out of the family photo box.
She’s got the cast, the curls, wearing a blue denim shirt and thick-black rimmed glasses while sitting at a picnic table in the campground. She’s looking down at where I’m sitting next to her with a plate of potato chips in front of me, bawling my eyes out.
“You always were a little bastard,” my brother said at a different state park three decades later.
Still, I’m sure my mom wouldn’t have had it any other way.
While I was crying in the picture, I remember having a blast on camping trips when I was little. It probably even gave my mom a chance to rest a little since my brother and I were so taken with the outdoors.
I’m lucky enough to have memories like these, as I’m sure many of you are.
Hopefully, this new funding mechanism will allow future generations to make similar memories.
So, I implore even those of you who aren’t sure whether you’ll use a state park in the year you’re renewing your license for, pitch in the 10 bucks anyway.
If not for yourself, then do it for all those exasperated Michigan mothers with broken arms who need a place to take their hyper-spazz crybaby kids.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
A happy ending? Movie business needs more time in Michigan
We’re a Rust Belt state with a rusty mentality sometimes.
We value hard work that doesn’t exist in these hard times.
Sometimes, we’re too hardheaded to see a good thing when it’s upon us.
So, please, let’s not ditch the the tax incentive for movies just because the non-partisan Senate Fiscal Agency recently found that there hasn’t been much of a financial reward to the state yet.
Let’s stress “yet.”
We live in a new economy. Foreign competition has got us all scrambling. The manufacturing jobs our state once enjoyed won’t be back.
It will never again be the way it was.
Therefore, it’s time to give the movie business a chance.
It’s one of the only positive things we have going for us. It generates conversation. It puts our ruggedly beautiful state in movies and television shows and makes more shows set here possible.
These are good things.
If we want to see a viable, moneymaking industry grow, you’ve got to give it time. It’s only been a few years, and ditching the generous tax incentives would bring everything that’s been brewing to a halt.
The impact is immediate.
Right here in town, we have 10 West Studios, which take advantage of the legislation. When they shoot scenes here, they bring excitement to our streets -- and put bodies in hotel rooms and mouths in restaurants.
Some Republican lawmakers in Lansing, especially Nancy Cassis (R-Novi), question giving such huge tax breaks to production companies -- around 40 percent of costs.
My question is: if it was an oil company that was having trouble setting up their pipeline, would Republicans be so quick to call the tax incentives a bust? Here, I would argue is the bigger reason: Republicans don’t want to publicly sponsor the liberal, Communist, homosexual propagandists from Hollywood who want to corrupt the minds of our youths with subversive and perverse themes in movies.
The Grand Old Party of Grand Old White Guys aren’t exactly the most culturally hip.
Let’s face it, Republicans: you’re just not all that entertaining.
For the most part, you like boring old Westerns and find anything morally ambiguous unnerving.
A good flick should have clearly delineated Good characters versus Bad characters, with Good always winning in the end.
A few of the folks in the entertainment industry you have on your side of the aisle are Charlton Heston (who, FYI, is in one of my favorite movies ever, “Planet of the Apes”), Chuck Norris and, I’m guessing, Wilford Brimley.
Putting them into the scene of a movie might go something like:
HESTON
The bad guys are trying to pry my gun from my cold, dead hand!
NORRIS
No need for firearms, I’m the cowboy of karate! Hi-ya, partner!
BRIMLEY
I will charm the enemy with this bowl of oatmeal. It’s nutritious and delicious!
The point is, the people in Hollywood making the most engaging stuff are, for better or for worse, usually pretty liberal, as highly creative people tend to be.
This should not be a reason to keep a potentially profitable industry out of our state. Even if it hasn’t paid off yet.
Just because it isn’t something tough like building cars or tanks, making movies in Michigan adds to the local communities where it films.
Let’s see if the tax breaks that have lured production companies here have a happy ending.
We value hard work that doesn’t exist in these hard times.
Sometimes, we’re too hardheaded to see a good thing when it’s upon us.
So, please, let’s not ditch the the tax incentive for movies just because the non-partisan Senate Fiscal Agency recently found that there hasn’t been much of a financial reward to the state yet.
Let’s stress “yet.”
We live in a new economy. Foreign competition has got us all scrambling. The manufacturing jobs our state once enjoyed won’t be back.
It will never again be the way it was.
Therefore, it’s time to give the movie business a chance.
It’s one of the only positive things we have going for us. It generates conversation. It puts our ruggedly beautiful state in movies and television shows and makes more shows set here possible.
These are good things.
If we want to see a viable, moneymaking industry grow, you’ve got to give it time. It’s only been a few years, and ditching the generous tax incentives would bring everything that’s been brewing to a halt.
The impact is immediate.
Right here in town, we have 10 West Studios, which take advantage of the legislation. When they shoot scenes here, they bring excitement to our streets -- and put bodies in hotel rooms and mouths in restaurants.
Some Republican lawmakers in Lansing, especially Nancy Cassis (R-Novi), question giving such huge tax breaks to production companies -- around 40 percent of costs.
My question is: if it was an oil company that was having trouble setting up their pipeline, would Republicans be so quick to call the tax incentives a bust? Here, I would argue is the bigger reason: Republicans don’t want to publicly sponsor the liberal, Communist, homosexual propagandists from Hollywood who want to corrupt the minds of our youths with subversive and perverse themes in movies.
The Grand Old Party of Grand Old White Guys aren’t exactly the most culturally hip.
Let’s face it, Republicans: you’re just not all that entertaining.
For the most part, you like boring old Westerns and find anything morally ambiguous unnerving.
A good flick should have clearly delineated Good characters versus Bad characters, with Good always winning in the end.
A few of the folks in the entertainment industry you have on your side of the aisle are Charlton Heston (who, FYI, is in one of my favorite movies ever, “Planet of the Apes”), Chuck Norris and, I’m guessing, Wilford Brimley.
Putting them into the scene of a movie might go something like:
HESTON
The bad guys are trying to pry my gun from my cold, dead hand!
NORRIS
No need for firearms, I’m the cowboy of karate! Hi-ya, partner!
BRIMLEY
I will charm the enemy with this bowl of oatmeal. It’s nutritious and delicious!
The point is, the people in Hollywood making the most engaging stuff are, for better or for worse, usually pretty liberal, as highly creative people tend to be.
This should not be a reason to keep a potentially profitable industry out of our state. Even if it hasn’t paid off yet.
Just because it isn’t something tough like building cars or tanks, making movies in Michigan adds to the local communities where it films.
Let’s see if the tax breaks that have lured production companies here have a happy ending.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
An archive of oh pines!
What follows is an archive of the columns I wrote for the Manistee News Advocate between September 2009 and September 2010. They are in somewhat chronological order in which they appeared, though you wouldn't know it because they are undated. Therefore, some may have become jumbled. Sorry. Consider it a public file cabinet. Sometimes you find strange things when you look inside the drawers of others...
So, most importantly, what have I been writing about for the past year?
Well, a little bit of everything: visiting a bat cave, scary right-wing rhetoric, J.D. Salinger and Chet Lemmon.
And much more.
So, most importantly, what have I been writing about for the past year?
Well, a little bit of everything: visiting a bat cave, scary right-wing rhetoric, J.D. Salinger and Chet Lemmon.
And much more.
The Bill of Fights: Constitution Day inspires reflection
The United States Constitution is one of the most influential documents in the history of the world.
It’s been used as a template that has led to better lives for millions all over the globe.
This Friday, Sept. 17, celebrates the day 223 years ago that the document was signed by a bunch of radicals we now call by the more noble and austere appellation: The Founding Fathers.
These fellows put together a pretty neat little package. Liberty is the concept that was most important to them, even if it did take a few centuries for all humans on this soil to achieve the rights called for in revolutionary times.
The articles of the Constitution outline a method of government we all live by, the stuff we learned in high school civics class.
These are not oft debated. If they are, it’s usually by lawmakers with minds for minutia.
But if you wanna see a fight, start talking about the Bill of Rights.
Or the Bill of Fights, if you will.
Debate is healthy for the republic. It’s how we reshape those ideas for our own good and prosperity every generation. The fact that the founding radicals isolated topics we’re still arguing about 200 plus years later proves its relevance.
The Bill of Fights has stood up remarkably well over time. There are only a few rooms that need to be shut off from the rest of the house because of mold. And maybe a couple cracked windows.
Let’s take a look:
1. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
This amendment is number one for a reason. The only way to be free is if people aren’t messing with you for your beliefs, or what you want to say or write in the newspaper. Give government too much power, the people are miserable. Giving people the power keeps them on their toes.
2. A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.
Well. Hmm. Do we really need citizen militias anymore? Not really. Our way of life has certainly changed since America was a wilderness in the 1770s. I’m going with the logic that if it’s OK for the government to have nuclear missiles, it’s OK for the average citizen to own a shotgun to go grouse hunting with. Or, a handgun to protect themselves. But, it’s when the right is abused by folks who think regular life is a warzone that it becomes frightening. This ain’t the Wild West anymore.
3. No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.
I’m thankful that we haven’t had a major war on American soil in a long, long time. If we ever do, this could apply. Until then, if anyone comes knocking on my door in military dress, it better be Halloween.
4. The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.
This whole “probable cause” thing has most likely caused police and attorneys countless headaches. Good. No one should have the power to arbitrarily go through your junk, even if the junk is against the law. If we don’t follow along with stuff like this, then we’re liable to start goose-stepping our way down the path of history.
5. No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.
There’s always a moment in gangster movies when the criminals “plead the Fifth.” It’s so they don’t have to talk smack about themselves. Just one more protection for liberty.
6. In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence.
Without this amendment, the State could theoretically keep you imprisoned for long periods of time without a judgment ever being passed, which is, of course, a judgment of its own.
7. In Suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise re-examined in any court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law.
Twenty bucks, eh. That was probably what someone made in a whole year back then ... or a newspaperman’s salary now.
8. Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
Death isn’t unusual -- it happens to us all -- but it is pretty cruel. The death penalty is just one of those things that will be argued until the end of time.
And here are your last two amendments:
9. The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.
10. The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.
Debate them, ponder them, just try to keep the fights clean.
And have a Happy Constitution Day!
It’s been used as a template that has led to better lives for millions all over the globe.
This Friday, Sept. 17, celebrates the day 223 years ago that the document was signed by a bunch of radicals we now call by the more noble and austere appellation: The Founding Fathers.
These fellows put together a pretty neat little package. Liberty is the concept that was most important to them, even if it did take a few centuries for all humans on this soil to achieve the rights called for in revolutionary times.
The articles of the Constitution outline a method of government we all live by, the stuff we learned in high school civics class.
These are not oft debated. If they are, it’s usually by lawmakers with minds for minutia.
But if you wanna see a fight, start talking about the Bill of Rights.
Or the Bill of Fights, if you will.
Debate is healthy for the republic. It’s how we reshape those ideas for our own good and prosperity every generation. The fact that the founding radicals isolated topics we’re still arguing about 200 plus years later proves its relevance.
The Bill of Fights has stood up remarkably well over time. There are only a few rooms that need to be shut off from the rest of the house because of mold. And maybe a couple cracked windows.
Let’s take a look:
1. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
This amendment is number one for a reason. The only way to be free is if people aren’t messing with you for your beliefs, or what you want to say or write in the newspaper. Give government too much power, the people are miserable. Giving people the power keeps them on their toes.
2. A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.
Well. Hmm. Do we really need citizen militias anymore? Not really. Our way of life has certainly changed since America was a wilderness in the 1770s. I’m going with the logic that if it’s OK for the government to have nuclear missiles, it’s OK for the average citizen to own a shotgun to go grouse hunting with. Or, a handgun to protect themselves. But, it’s when the right is abused by folks who think regular life is a warzone that it becomes frightening. This ain’t the Wild West anymore.
3. No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.
I’m thankful that we haven’t had a major war on American soil in a long, long time. If we ever do, this could apply. Until then, if anyone comes knocking on my door in military dress, it better be Halloween.
4. The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.
This whole “probable cause” thing has most likely caused police and attorneys countless headaches. Good. No one should have the power to arbitrarily go through your junk, even if the junk is against the law. If we don’t follow along with stuff like this, then we’re liable to start goose-stepping our way down the path of history.
5. No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.
There’s always a moment in gangster movies when the criminals “plead the Fifth.” It’s so they don’t have to talk smack about themselves. Just one more protection for liberty.
6. In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence.
Without this amendment, the State could theoretically keep you imprisoned for long periods of time without a judgment ever being passed, which is, of course, a judgment of its own.
7. In Suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise re-examined in any court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law.
Twenty bucks, eh. That was probably what someone made in a whole year back then ... or a newspaperman’s salary now.
8. Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
Death isn’t unusual -- it happens to us all -- but it is pretty cruel. The death penalty is just one of those things that will be argued until the end of time.
And here are your last two amendments:
9. The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.
10. The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.
Debate them, ponder them, just try to keep the fights clean.
And have a Happy Constitution Day!
Game over: Video games are relaxing black holes of time
I wasn’t John Counts this weekend.
I was Bond. James Bond.
That’s right. I didn’t spend my Labor Day weekend at some boring, banal barbecue. Instead, I was massacring henchmen in mansions and scouring Italian rooftops for devious villains.
Virtually, that is.
In reality, I was alternately standing and sitting in a living room staring at a television screen in my underwear playing the video game “James Bond: Quantum of Solace,” derived from the movie of the same name.
By the end of my 15-hour binge, my skin was a bit pastier. My eyes were burned out, glazed over. When I finally slept, I dreamed in the same jagged images of the game.
All holiday weekend, no one could get between me and my Wii.
I don’t own any video game console for this reason. They are addicting. They are addicting because sometimes it’s easier to get to the next level in a game than it is in life. They are addicting because you, the gamer, are in complete control over the universe before your eyes. They are addicting because while the games are all-absorbing, there is nothing truly at stake. When you see “Game Over” you can always hit reset and keep going. You can go back and redo things you messed up the first time.
You can’t do that in real life. Not yet, at least.
For those reasons, real life events begin to become less important. That’s when you find yourself at 3 a.m. reaching for a Code Red Mountain Dew to keep you awake for a few more gaming hours. You’re brain is usually too busy to question how you got there.
It’s not a pleasant place to be. Once your eyes wake up to reality and things begin moving at the speed of life again, there’s guilt. There’s remorse.
It’s why I’ve ignored video games for the past 15 years. The systems have come and gone. PlayStation 1, 2 and 3. Xbox. GameCube.
As the gaming systems have gotten better, the more intoxicating they’ve become.
They sure have changed since I was a lad in their nascent age of the 1980s. First, there was “Pong,” a game in which a dot moves back and forth on a screen and the player controls “paddles,” basically a thick, simple line, to bounce the dot back and forth. It amazed and stupefied us back then. Wow, we said.
Now, it compares to a monkey dipping a stick into an ant hole for dinner.
But beginnings are always quaint.
We were never the family that rushed out and bought the new gadgets when they hit the shelves. We’d wait until the hype died down -- along with the prices.
I remember the excitement surrounding the arrival of the Atari 2600 when I was about 6 years old. My older brother and I played “Donkey Kong,” “Frogger” and a game based on the “E.T.” movie for hours.
But we always played outside for hours, too.
When I was in middle school, we got the first Nintendo. We devoted so much time to the completion of Mario Brothers that the music is easily hummed and the images conjured to this day. Large amounts of my young life were also spent unlocking the secrets and mysteries of “The Legend of Zelda.” By the time I finally beat it, the map that came with the game was in tatters.
So were my nerves.
And what did I have to show for it?
“Dude, I beat Zelda,” I probably told my friends.
“Sweet,” they probably said. “Let’s go to the mall.”
I danced ever so briefly with Sega Genesis and the first PlayStation. I’d play them at other folks’ houses, but never gave in to the temptation to plunk down the hundred plus dollars to get one myself.
This would have been in the late 1990s. I’ve been relatively game-free since. Until now.
I knew where I’d be spending the holiday weekend had one of these newfangled Nintendo Wii systems. So, I went to the Family Video, and rented this James Bond game for what I thought would be a few hours of amusement.
By the time I was stripped down to my shorts and yelling obscenities at fake, two-dimension representations of people on a television screen, I knew I was lost.
I was back in the same mode I was in when I was 12, trying to figure out “The Legend of Zelda.”
In fact, I don’t even know where I found the time to write this column. I hope you all had a good Labor Day, Manistee, but I’ve got to go for now.
The game’s on pause.
I was Bond. James Bond.
That’s right. I didn’t spend my Labor Day weekend at some boring, banal barbecue. Instead, I was massacring henchmen in mansions and scouring Italian rooftops for devious villains.
Virtually, that is.
In reality, I was alternately standing and sitting in a living room staring at a television screen in my underwear playing the video game “James Bond: Quantum of Solace,” derived from the movie of the same name.
By the end of my 15-hour binge, my skin was a bit pastier. My eyes were burned out, glazed over. When I finally slept, I dreamed in the same jagged images of the game.
All holiday weekend, no one could get between me and my Wii.
I don’t own any video game console for this reason. They are addicting. They are addicting because sometimes it’s easier to get to the next level in a game than it is in life. They are addicting because you, the gamer, are in complete control over the universe before your eyes. They are addicting because while the games are all-absorbing, there is nothing truly at stake. When you see “Game Over” you can always hit reset and keep going. You can go back and redo things you messed up the first time.
You can’t do that in real life. Not yet, at least.
For those reasons, real life events begin to become less important. That’s when you find yourself at 3 a.m. reaching for a Code Red Mountain Dew to keep you awake for a few more gaming hours. You’re brain is usually too busy to question how you got there.
It’s not a pleasant place to be. Once your eyes wake up to reality and things begin moving at the speed of life again, there’s guilt. There’s remorse.
It’s why I’ve ignored video games for the past 15 years. The systems have come and gone. PlayStation 1, 2 and 3. Xbox. GameCube.
As the gaming systems have gotten better, the more intoxicating they’ve become.
They sure have changed since I was a lad in their nascent age of the 1980s. First, there was “Pong,” a game in which a dot moves back and forth on a screen and the player controls “paddles,” basically a thick, simple line, to bounce the dot back and forth. It amazed and stupefied us back then. Wow, we said.
Now, it compares to a monkey dipping a stick into an ant hole for dinner.
But beginnings are always quaint.
We were never the family that rushed out and bought the new gadgets when they hit the shelves. We’d wait until the hype died down -- along with the prices.
I remember the excitement surrounding the arrival of the Atari 2600 when I was about 6 years old. My older brother and I played “Donkey Kong,” “Frogger” and a game based on the “E.T.” movie for hours.
But we always played outside for hours, too.
When I was in middle school, we got the first Nintendo. We devoted so much time to the completion of Mario Brothers that the music is easily hummed and the images conjured to this day. Large amounts of my young life were also spent unlocking the secrets and mysteries of “The Legend of Zelda.” By the time I finally beat it, the map that came with the game was in tatters.
So were my nerves.
And what did I have to show for it?
“Dude, I beat Zelda,” I probably told my friends.
“Sweet,” they probably said. “Let’s go to the mall.”
I danced ever so briefly with Sega Genesis and the first PlayStation. I’d play them at other folks’ houses, but never gave in to the temptation to plunk down the hundred plus dollars to get one myself.
This would have been in the late 1990s. I’ve been relatively game-free since. Until now.
I knew where I’d be spending the holiday weekend had one of these newfangled Nintendo Wii systems. So, I went to the Family Video, and rented this James Bond game for what I thought would be a few hours of amusement.
By the time I was stripped down to my shorts and yelling obscenities at fake, two-dimension representations of people on a television screen, I knew I was lost.
I was back in the same mode I was in when I was 12, trying to figure out “The Legend of Zelda.”
In fact, I don’t even know where I found the time to write this column. I hope you all had a good Labor Day, Manistee, but I’ve got to go for now.
The game’s on pause.
Howling for a friend: New puppy brings Homeward Bound’s importance into focus
My girlfriend, Meredith, and I went to Homeward Bound Animal Shelter last Thursday just to take a look.
We adopted Rudy hours later and brought him home the next day.
It’s nearly impossible to walk through the shelter and not want to take all the pups home with you.
For instance, it was very difficult to pry the little fella away from his three sisters without bringing them along.
We almost did -- unintentionally.
The four 16-week old pooches all shared the same cinder block pen with a swinging chain-link fence door. Of course, while Meredith and I tried getting Rudy out to play before committing to adoption, all four dogs escaped.
We frantically ran around scooping them up and trying to get them back in the pen. The problem was that one would always manage to slip out when we put one in.
It made me question my future as the Paterfamilias of Puppy Land. Even though there’d only be one little guy, would I be cut out for it? If I can barely keep my own nails clipped, stomach filled and hair washed, how can I take care of a dog?
I didn’t have much time to ponder the big questions while chasing down the puppies at Homeward Bound. We finally got Rudy’s sisters into the pen and spent some quality time with him.
We fell in love.
He’s a little dog right now, white with a few black patches on his face and one spot at the base of his tail. He’s easily mistaken for a full-grown Jack Russell terrier, which happened twice at the Farmer’s Market Saturday morning, where we went to parade him around.
He doesn’t sound like a terrier, though.
His mother, Tip Toes, is a 2-year-old Lab mix (and still available for adoption), but Rudy’s definitely got some hound blood.
This little 14-pound squirt of a dog has a voice on him.
I know this for a fact.
We got started with crate training Friday night. From 1 until 4 a.m., Rudy paced the crate, cried and tried chewing through the bars.
During the most intense moments of his first-night blues, he reached a high-pitched hound dog wail that rattled the glasses in the cupboards.
Sorry, neighbors. I truly do apologize.
Every dog owner knows you have to let him cry it out or else he’ll always yowl in the crate. Start letting the dog boss you around and he’ll soon become the Paterfamilias of People Land.
As much as it broke our hearts, we left him in the crate that entire first night, ignoring all the yelps intended for his sisters back at the shelter to help him.
He didn’t yet know that he was part of a new pack.
Our pack.
I think he knows now. The next night went much smoother. He’s more settled in and sleeping through the night in the crate. He only howled once.
Life is good.
These experiences are to be treasured. This experience is also something that’s being threatened in Manistee County.
Homeward Bound is again in dire financial straits. Unlike tax-funded agencies, which always receive their funds no matter how bad they bungle things, the “no-kill” non-profit shelter relies solely on donations and fundraisers.
Please, be a friend to this wonderful organization so other people can benefit like we have.
Maybe you’ll need a friend too someday.
There are always plenty waiting at the shelter.
For now.
We adopted Rudy hours later and brought him home the next day.
It’s nearly impossible to walk through the shelter and not want to take all the pups home with you.
For instance, it was very difficult to pry the little fella away from his three sisters without bringing them along.
We almost did -- unintentionally.
The four 16-week old pooches all shared the same cinder block pen with a swinging chain-link fence door. Of course, while Meredith and I tried getting Rudy out to play before committing to adoption, all four dogs escaped.
We frantically ran around scooping them up and trying to get them back in the pen. The problem was that one would always manage to slip out when we put one in.
It made me question my future as the Paterfamilias of Puppy Land. Even though there’d only be one little guy, would I be cut out for it? If I can barely keep my own nails clipped, stomach filled and hair washed, how can I take care of a dog?
I didn’t have much time to ponder the big questions while chasing down the puppies at Homeward Bound. We finally got Rudy’s sisters into the pen and spent some quality time with him.
We fell in love.
He’s a little dog right now, white with a few black patches on his face and one spot at the base of his tail. He’s easily mistaken for a full-grown Jack Russell terrier, which happened twice at the Farmer’s Market Saturday morning, where we went to parade him around.
He doesn’t sound like a terrier, though.
His mother, Tip Toes, is a 2-year-old Lab mix (and still available for adoption), but Rudy’s definitely got some hound blood.
This little 14-pound squirt of a dog has a voice on him.
I know this for a fact.
We got started with crate training Friday night. From 1 until 4 a.m., Rudy paced the crate, cried and tried chewing through the bars.
During the most intense moments of his first-night blues, he reached a high-pitched hound dog wail that rattled the glasses in the cupboards.
Sorry, neighbors. I truly do apologize.
Every dog owner knows you have to let him cry it out or else he’ll always yowl in the crate. Start letting the dog boss you around and he’ll soon become the Paterfamilias of People Land.
As much as it broke our hearts, we left him in the crate that entire first night, ignoring all the yelps intended for his sisters back at the shelter to help him.
He didn’t yet know that he was part of a new pack.
Our pack.
I think he knows now. The next night went much smoother. He’s more settled in and sleeping through the night in the crate. He only howled once.
Life is good.
These experiences are to be treasured. This experience is also something that’s being threatened in Manistee County.
Homeward Bound is again in dire financial straits. Unlike tax-funded agencies, which always receive their funds no matter how bad they bungle things, the “no-kill” non-profit shelter relies solely on donations and fundraisers.
Please, be a friend to this wonderful organization so other people can benefit like we have.
Maybe you’ll need a friend too someday.
There are always plenty waiting at the shelter.
For now.
School days: Reasons to embrace the coming school year
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, kiddies, but your days are numbered.
Of summer, that is.
There are only 22 precious days left before it’s back to a life dictated by ringing bells.
After a summer of hanging out with friends, swimming and riding bikes, (or, more accurately, tweetering with friends and playing Xbox) it’s always difficult to get back into the grind of homework and tests.
But don’t feel discouraged, kiddies. Going back to school isn’t all bad.
Here are a couple of reasons to feel grateful about the end of summer:
YOU GOT THE SUMMER OFF
No duh, you say.
But what I’m getting at is: savor it, kiddies, because summer vacations end when you hit the real world.
Unless you become a teacher or a snowmobile repair man, they become a glorious thing of the past.
There’s no losing track of time because you haven’t had to be anywhere for weeks.
There’s no waking up and having that nice feeling that you have no clue what to do the rest of the day.
No, during a grown-up summer, you just do what you do the rest of the year: work.
Which is kind of a scam. Why everyone doesn’t get a summer vacation is beyond me. We could have invented a better situation than this. It must be that Puritan work ethic.
I say protest! Revolt!
So, kiddies, be thankful you’re starting school again for the year, and not just carrying on throughout the summer.
FIRST DAY EXCITEMENT
When I was a lad I would never admit it, but I was always brimming with excitement and anticipation for the first day of school.
I’d have my “E.T.” t-shirt, corduroy pants and Nikes set out on a chair the night before, the only time the entire school year I’d be so fussy and lay out my wardrobe.
My mom would always take a picture of my brother and I. Looking at the pictures now, the most noticeable thing is that the older we got, the more amount of hair gel we used.
I never slept the night before. I was too excited.
What would my teacher be like? Would my friends be in my class? Would there be any new kids at the school? What had everyone done over the summer?
Mostly, though, I was kept up all night with one burning thought: Would I get to sit next to Kathleen Brunson?
And if Kathleen wasn’t game, who would I ask to “go” with me that year.
So, kiddies, be excited that after a summer of hanging out with all your friends of the same sex, school once again puts you in contact with the other.
BACK TO SCHOOL SHOPPING
If you’re like how I used to be in my younger and more vulnerable days, you’ve probably been bumming around all summer in the same few pair of raggedy shorts and t-shirts.
Starting a new school year is prime time to get mom and dad to open up their wallets and get you some new duds.
Shopping for fall clothes is even something that’s fun for people like me who hate going to the mall.
My mom would take me to Fashion Square Mall in Saginaw. It would be a day of trying on new pants, shirts and shoes.
When it was over, I always had a nice ensemble for the first day.
After all, I had to look good for Kathleen Brunson.
Of summer, that is.
There are only 22 precious days left before it’s back to a life dictated by ringing bells.
After a summer of hanging out with friends, swimming and riding bikes, (or, more accurately, tweetering with friends and playing Xbox) it’s always difficult to get back into the grind of homework and tests.
But don’t feel discouraged, kiddies. Going back to school isn’t all bad.
Here are a couple of reasons to feel grateful about the end of summer:
YOU GOT THE SUMMER OFF
No duh, you say.
But what I’m getting at is: savor it, kiddies, because summer vacations end when you hit the real world.
Unless you become a teacher or a snowmobile repair man, they become a glorious thing of the past.
There’s no losing track of time because you haven’t had to be anywhere for weeks.
There’s no waking up and having that nice feeling that you have no clue what to do the rest of the day.
No, during a grown-up summer, you just do what you do the rest of the year: work.
Which is kind of a scam. Why everyone doesn’t get a summer vacation is beyond me. We could have invented a better situation than this. It must be that Puritan work ethic.
I say protest! Revolt!
So, kiddies, be thankful you’re starting school again for the year, and not just carrying on throughout the summer.
FIRST DAY EXCITEMENT
When I was a lad I would never admit it, but I was always brimming with excitement and anticipation for the first day of school.
I’d have my “E.T.” t-shirt, corduroy pants and Nikes set out on a chair the night before, the only time the entire school year I’d be so fussy and lay out my wardrobe.
My mom would always take a picture of my brother and I. Looking at the pictures now, the most noticeable thing is that the older we got, the more amount of hair gel we used.
I never slept the night before. I was too excited.
What would my teacher be like? Would my friends be in my class? Would there be any new kids at the school? What had everyone done over the summer?
Mostly, though, I was kept up all night with one burning thought: Would I get to sit next to Kathleen Brunson?
And if Kathleen wasn’t game, who would I ask to “go” with me that year.
So, kiddies, be excited that after a summer of hanging out with all your friends of the same sex, school once again puts you in contact with the other.
BACK TO SCHOOL SHOPPING
If you’re like how I used to be in my younger and more vulnerable days, you’ve probably been bumming around all summer in the same few pair of raggedy shorts and t-shirts.
Starting a new school year is prime time to get mom and dad to open up their wallets and get you some new duds.
Shopping for fall clothes is even something that’s fun for people like me who hate going to the mall.
My mom would take me to Fashion Square Mall in Saginaw. It would be a day of trying on new pants, shirts and shoes.
When it was over, I always had a nice ensemble for the first day.
After all, I had to look good for Kathleen Brunson.
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