Tag: nostalgia

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Bruthaman

I was lucky, I thought, having procured a videotape copy of Jurassic Park while it was still in the theaters, guaranteeing me the pleasure of watching the biggest movie in America in the privacy of my own home. It didn’t matter that the case was a little blurry, and when I opened it the videotape … Continue reading Bruthaman

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The 257

cover-bowlingWhen I was a teenager I was more known for being my sister’s brother than for anything else, and I didn’t do much to dissuade people from the assumption that I wasn’t much more than that. Call it lack of self-esteem, or maybe it was that I played way too often to expectations. In school I would get teachers the year after my sister did, and they would always tell me they expected great things, so I gave them great things. Of course my efforts were never applauded because they were expected. It was only when I did something unexpected that I got noticed, which always seemed ironic to me.

So, by junior year I had done a grand total of one thing others hadn’t expected, which was shaving my head on the coldest day of the year. But that convinced me maybe I was on to something. If I wanted to stop being known as merely “Joy’s brother what’s-his-name?” I had to do the unexpected. So I did. I joined the bowling team.

Now, when I saw the signups on the bulletin board outside the office I was intrigued. I had never voluntarily tried out for a school sport. Sure, freshman year I had signed up for an intramural volleyball tournament with two other guys who never bothered showing up for the actual games. And I had played well during recess class when we did badminton and table tennis, but that was about my entire experience with sports to that point. So signing up for the bowling team tryouts was a big step, and I did all I could to get ready for it. For a solid two weeks before tryouts I went to our local bowling alley after school and bowled until my arm was sore. I tried every technique there was (and believe me, I did, because I read all the books in the school library and the public library on bowling techniques), and when I stepped into that bowling alley for tryouts I thought I was ready.

I was wrong.

-4977343e216bb47cEvery boy in there to try out for the team had been on the team the previous year except me and this one scrawny kid who seemed like a nice puff of air would blow him over. Every boy who was trying out had a big weight advantage over me, too, and supposedly the power to go with it. Picture me back then, a tall, lanky kid with a box haircut, wearing corduroy pants and an over-sized sweatshirt. I almost walked back out of the door, but the coach noticed me and made me sit down there with the other guys who obviously knew each other. There was one boy there, Stanley, who I had classes with, and that’s the only thing that made the wait somewhat bearable. We talked about class, and how we were the smartest two in our math class, which took up some of the time. But by then our names were being called one by one and the butterflies began again. Continue reading “The 257”

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You Call This a Shower?: Part 1

On the road in Ireland, 2008.

I must have been crazy.

At least that’s what everyone told me when they found out I wanted to lead a group of students on an educational tour of England, Ireland, and Wales. But I never felt that way until we actually got there, and I realized the awesome responsibility that had been handed to me by virtue of my decision. I mean, I knew it was a huge deal, and I had to do so much preparation it was ridiculous, but being singularly responsible for the well-being of 12 teenagers a world away from their parents, yes, an awesome responsibility. And it was some of the most fun I’ve had in my entire life. It all started with an English teacher’s conference, if you can believe it.

For the first time since I became a high school English teacher I decided I wanted to go to the national conference. It helped that in 2005 it was in Pittsburgh, which wasn’t so far a cry from upstate New York where I lived and taught, so I petitioned my school and they said it would be worthwhile, paying for my travel, my expenses, and the conference itself. Of course it was all under the condition that I give an in-session presentation for other teachers when I returned. Woo hoo! Vacation! And I really mean that because I love love love conferences, getting to meet so many different people and participate in discussions, watch lectures, and just get my “nerd on.”

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Free books!

But there was one thing I hadn’t anticipated, it being my first English teacher’s national conference, something I learned the very first day from some other new teacher friends of mine: THE BOOTHS. Wow, I had absolutely no clue that there were going to be booths where book companies, other educational companies, vendors, and salesfolk gathered and they herded us teachers through like cattle. Every single one of the companies were hawking their wares like used car salesmen, and it was a whirlwind of sights and sounds. Oh, and free books. I picked up a huge bag from one of the major book companies, and all I had to do for it was listen to a spiel and promise I would let my school know the good deal they could get if they went with that company. Then I filled up my huge bag with tons of free books that vendors were just giving out.

Um, but I’m getting off topic. The national conference was fun, and I went to two others after it, but that’s not my story right now (don’t worry, I’ll fill you in with another blog post on the subject). Really, the relevant part of the conference story was the travel booth, a place that intrigued me when I first passed by on my way to the Nicholas Sparks book signing (yes, yes, Nicholas Sparks was there). There were two young ladies there who seemed more laid back than other books, then I saw why. They had a sign-up sheet where if you just put down your information you could win a trip for two to many exotic places. Of course the sign-up sheet was a mailing list that meant they could bother you anytime about leading a tour for them. I felt it was a good trade-off so I signed up, but that was the trick. They were talking to me the whole time and had pretty much sold me on the idea of leading an educational tour by the time I was done signing their sheet. Man, they were good with the ol’ bait and switch! Continue reading “You Call This a Shower?: Part 1”

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Paper Footballs

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There is an art to making a paper football. Believe me. It starts with a fresh sheet of unwrinkled paper and a strong thumb. And it ends with a perfect isoscles triangle that is firm but not too firm, and may or may not have designs on it. Oh, and in between it is an unparalleled journey.

We used to make them in auto mech class, when we were supposed to be learning about cam shafts, pistons, and axles. Instead we were at the big wooden table in the back of the class with unwrinkled sheets of paper and our own dreams of those little paper footballs.

It all started with a fold, near the edge but away from it too, the perfect length, the long way, and then a tear following the fold all the way to the bottom of the page. Tearing on the fold made for a better football, in my opinion, but some preferred to use scissors. I took true pride in beating them.

Then the real fun began, the raveling of the spine. By this time, or course, Mr. Benton, the auto mech teacher, would finally start to notice that half his class still didn’t know how brakes worked. But he still wouldn’t come to the back of the room, so we continued the raveling. Continue reading “Paper Footballs”

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Hearing Sammy

Heavy Metal

The first time I heard Sammy Hagar I was in the stacks of the Temple University library in 1996. I had my old-style, drug store, $6 dollar headphones plugged into my imitation Walkman, and his voice took me by surprise when it bore itself into my brain that fall. You see, back then I listened to the radio a lot, but I did it in unconventional ways. There were no podcasts, no digital radio like Pandora, and no satellite radio. There was just good old AM, good old FM, and an antenna to listen to either.

I wouldn’t often get the chance to listen at home, so I would get out blank audio cassettes, put them into the stereo, and press record. Then I would go back later and listen to them, trying to figure out who the singers and bands were that sang the songs I liked. There was no Shazam back then to figure it out, and the DJ didn’t always give the information, so it was a fact-finding expedition that often led to dead ends since I had no contacts to explain it all to me. But it didn’t stop me from loving the songs I loved from those tapes, from those radio days, some of which I still have no idea who sang to this day.

In those days I would also get caught up with those radio concerts, you know the kind that were edited so they could be on the radio, so they cut out all the good parts and a lot of the crowd noise too, plus even some of the show so it would fit in the alotted time the radio had planned for it. But back then it was the only way I got to listen to shows so I would copy them too. One time I found out there was an STP concert coming on, so I set the tape to copy it. I found out later, though, that it was one of those back-to-back show nights where they played two concerts in a row. The first show was STP, and the encore was a Sammy Hagar concert from 1983. Continue reading “Hearing Sammy”