Ugh! Another unexpected break

I've been working to keep up a hectic pace with this blog by trying to post something about my life's story four days a week and some video commentary on Fridays. I've reached a point in which I need to take another break, about a month after I took the last one.

When I first started this blog back in September of 2013, I had a lot of downtime at my workplace, so I had a lot of opportunities to write new articles way ahead of time and post them on a daily basis. (You could say I was getting paid to do the blog.) If my workload increased, I still had plenty of articles in the can that I could use until I got more downtime.

Sometimes, that downtime didn't come like I wanted it to, and I would have to take breaks from time to time to allow my inventory of articles to grow. Recently, I changed positions in my company and while I was told that it would be very busy during January, no one knew that it was going to reach a level in which it would be difficult for me to get any downtime, except toward the end of the day.

This meant I had to find time to write. I used to exercise for about an hour every day before work. I started using that time the past couple of weeks to do the blog instead. That has had consequences. I can feel myself gaining weight, which was being kept at bay by my workout routine.

I need a strong body to support my mind, not only for this blog, but for the work I do. This will be my last article for a few weeks while I get back into shape and get some more articles ready to blast out. Don't worry, I'm still here and will continue to work on the blog, but I don't know how long this break will last.

Please use this time to catch up on any articles that you may have missed. With more than 300 posts on this blog, I'm certain there's something you haven't read or forgot that you read.

College Roommate #6: Vird

During the summer of 1984, I received my annual postcard from Eastern New Mexico University informing me of who my roommate was going to be. His name was Vird and he was from New York. The cards I had received the previous two years listed my roommate's name, address and phone number. I never tried to contact either of them before school started and they didn't try to contact me. Back then, long distance calls were expensive and usually avoided unless absolutely necessary.

So I was surprised when Vird called me up to find out about me and how things were going to be in the room. I told him I was junior and that I had lived in the same room for the last two years. I told him I took the bed closest to the window. He seemed like a nice guy.

When I had returned to ENMU, I went to my room. He had just gotten there about a half-hour before I did. He was about my height, and had dark hair. He was also overweight, but had a photo of himself with a rather attractive girlfriend. There was another person with him in the room who had also come from New York. They were both from Long Island and had come over on the same shuttle with some other freshman students from New York.

The first thing that had happened was that he had forgotten which bed I wanted. I still got the one by the window, but it seemed odd that he wanted to get that part straightened out over the phone first, but didn't follow through once he arrived. If I had arrived a few hours later, he would have claimed that bed and I probably would have had to deal with it.

We really didn't have a lot in common. We could hang out and talk in the room, but he otherwise hung out with his friends from New York. The all wound up pledging the fraternity that Toilethead belonged to. When ENMU's student newspaper published photos of Fraternity Pledge Week, there was a picture of him and a friend with Toilethead.

One of the things he had a tendency to do was gripe about being in "the badlands." He would always go on about how much things were better in New York. He talked about how he could just barely turn the radio dial and find a station on almost any frequency. He complained about how stupid people from New Mexico were (around his friends) and basically wasn't very happy with being at ENMU.

It wasn't long before he decided to be roommates with one of his frat buddies instead. I was actually kind of relieved that I would get the room all to myself again, but that only lasted a couple of weeks becaause I soon got College Roommate #7.

I would see Vird at the dorm and on campus every once in awhile. We were still friendly to each other. However, I found out that he was part of the phone ringing incident. When I was trying to figure out who was making the call to the RA's phone next door, I called Vird's number. It was busy, EVERY SINGLE TIME I CALLED. It was hard for me to believe that he was a party to that and that he didn't put a stop to it after awhile. All he had to do was hang up the phone. I guess he decided that his fraternity brothers were more important than doing the right thing.

So, what happened to Vird? Even though he didn't like ENMU during his freshman year, he did graduate from there. He evetually became a chiropractor and has a practice in Hollywood, FL. This means he gets to be called "Dr. Vird." It really wasn't what I expected out of him.

But I'm not planning on making any connections with him anytime soon.

The end of the whole family era (1967 -1984)

There are periods in your life that you don't realize came to an end until you are long past them. That was certainly the case with my family going out and doing things together. In 1984, I had no idea that the tribal unit in which I had spent my entire life was starting to splinter, never to return again to the glory and gory years of my youth.

Looking back, I found that the summer of 1984 was the last time we went out to the movies together as a family. Mom, Dad, Loyd and I had gone up to Roswell to do some stuff. We ate up there and then decided to go see a movie. "Ghostbusters" had just come out. I had gone up to Roswell to see it the previous weekend, but something happened to the sound about 30 minutes from the end and I didn't get to see the rest of it. I recommended we go see that. Mom asked if I thought she would like it. I asked, "Did you like 'Stripes?'" She said she did. "Then you'll like this, too."

When I was a younger teenager, I had a tendency to sit apart from the family anytime we went to the movies. This time, we all sat together. We were actually lucky enough to find four seats together, but I don't know why we did. It's now rather bittersweet to look back at that night and remember that all four of us had a good time at the movies without knowing that we would never do that again.

We continued to do some family things together. Later that summer, we went to the family reunion that was held by my Grandma Bend's brothers and sisters. (There were eight of them and they all had lots of kids, grandkids and great-grandkids. Their mother was still alive, so she was there with her great-great-grandchildren.) However, I was working at the radio station that weekend and I only got to spend one night at the campground where we held the event every year. I had to drive there by myself and I didn't really spend much time with my immediate family because I was busy catching up with all my other second cousins.

We still had Thanksgiving and Christmas together for 1984 and 1985. The strange thing was that for Thanksgiving 1985, even though Loyd and I came up to my Grandma Ogolon's in Portales with Mom and Dad, I didn't get to have the traditional dinner with everyone. I wound up working at the station. I actually wanted to work more than I wanted to eat with the family, but I think that had something to do with having to sit at the kiddie table in 1984. After my shift, I did go back to my grandmother's and spend time with the family, but it was mostly to catch up with my cousins.

I guess I'd always had this idea in my head that I would be getting married to someone in a few years and this mystery person would become a part of my family. Loyd would also find someone to marry and we would be this larger family that would go out and do things together. We would have our children and the family would continue to thrive. This is probably what my parents expected, especially my Mom. But it's certainly not the way it worked out. In a few years, Dad would divorce Mom and the family that I knew for more than 23 years was just no more.

I'm glad that I can recall how things used to be. I mean, we were a dysfunctional family, but my memories of the good times are just as strong as my recollections of the bad times. It helps to balance things out.

My date for 1984

As I mentioned a long time ago, I was lucky to average about one date a year through high school and college. The date I had between my sophomore and junior college years was really nothing to write about. But I'm going to try.

The thing about this date is that it was a set up between my parents and this woman that my Dad taught with at Hermosa Elementary. Her granddaughter was in town and she wanted her to go out with me. I really didn't like the idea of being forced by my parents to go out with someone, but they were going to give me money, so I felt like I could live like a gigolo for one night out of my life. I just wasn't going to be taking off my clothes.

Of course, Mom got all worked up about this. After all, I was about to reach the age my Dad was when she married him. With that life time schedule in mind, it would be just another three years before she would become a grandmother. She was telling me all this stuff I had to make sure I did before going out, like taking a shower, washing my hair and putting on clean clothes and socks. (I came home from college one time with really stinky feet and she never forgot about that. I guess that created such a stigma that she could still smell my feet years after that incident.) She was also telling me how to behave on the date, and I was supposed take the girl wherever she wanted to go, including to see "Rambo: First Blood Part 2," if she wanted to see that movie (which I did not and have never seen in its entirety).

I didn't like how Mom set me up with a prom date three years earlier, but that was my own fault. I went into that with an attitude in that it was strictly a date for the sake of not wasting money on a tux rental. I built up a similar attitude that this wasn't going anywhere. I mean, like the prom, I was going to be nice, but I wasn't go to go out of my way to try to impress anyone.

I showed up at the house of the teacher. She let me in a I just had to wait a couple of minutes for my date to finish getting ready. I remember that she was rather pleasant-looking, with long blonde hair, but I do not remember her name.

I drove her around a little bit, up and down the main drag. We then went to Tastee Freez to get something to eat. I recall that we talked a lot our experiences in college and what we were going to do when we graduated. I also told her about all the crazy stuff that happened to me in New York City. We didn't have very many lags in the conversation. It appeared that she was taking the same approach to the date as I was. I think she also didn't like the idea of being put on the spot and getting set up with me.

I remember that when we left Tastee Freez, I turned on the ignition switch in my car. However, there was no music coming out of the radio. I realized I was in Artesia and that the local radio station stopped broadcasting at 10pm, EVEN ON SATURDAY NIGHT! I found another station. I took her back to her grandmother's house and dropped her off. I never saw her again, but I expected that.

A few years later, Mom told me she had gotten married and how she had originally hoped that I would have hit it off with her. Mom had to deal with a lot of disappointments like that over the next 20 years.

Looking back, I realize that it was one of the best dates I'd experienced, but I didn't think that at the time. I do wish I had learned a good lesson from that and figured that the best kinds of dates were those in which there were no expectations. If I had approached all potential girlfriends like that, I probably would have been more successful in the romance department. But I would keep on viewing the women who were willing to go out with me as wife candidates. That really wasn't a good way to go through life.

If I hadn't met the woman I was going to marry before I turned 40, I probably would have started approaching all my dates like that. It's a good thing I got lucky and found someone willing to fall in love with me.

A whole summer to blow off steam, or so I thought

For the summer of 1984, I decided that I wouldn't be taking any classes at Eastern New Mexico University. I had just experienced 21 months of education in a row and was really ready for a break. I thought I would be experiencing three months of doing nothing like I used to before college, but that didn't happen the way I wanted it to. In fact, it was actually a lot like the summers I lived through during high school.

I started out being able to return to work at my first job at the Racquet and Health Club. That lasted about three weeks before they laid me off. There really wasn't anyplace in town I wanted to work, and besides, all the summer jobs had already been taken. Mom made me dressed go to one of the banks and apply. The person doing the hiring asked me what it was I wanted to do there. I said, "I don't know. I'm only here because I lost my job my Mom doesn't want me lazing around the house like a bum all summer." Yeah, he didn't hire me.

Then we hired this guy to re-do the tiling in our entryway. Dad got to talking with him and he mentioned that he needed an assistant. Dad told me to talk to him about getting a job. While he was working on the tiling, begrudgingly discuss the possibility of me working with him. He really didn't seem that interested in having me work for him (probably because I looked too skinny to be carrying around heavy tiles), but said I could work for him. A couple of weeks passed and we never heard from him again. I was rather relieved.

But that didn't mean I got out of working. I still had to mow all the lawns at the apartments. (It was really nice getting out of that the previous summer. Maybe I should have gone to school.) Dad also made me go do the janitorial work at the building he owned, which housed Artesia's Welfare Department. Cleaning only took about 15 minutes. (It wasn't a very big building.) Dad said he would pay me $2 a day to clean the place, which meant I was making $8 an hour. I didn't want to do it, but it did get me out of the house for about a half hour every night, so I didn't really have much to complain about. One of the fun things was that the people who worked there often left sensitive documents out in the open and I would frequently come aross the welfare applications of people I went to high school with, many of whom had become single mothers.

A few months earlier while in school, I had applied for a part-time job with a radio station in Clovis, NM. Its call letters were KCPK, but went by the name of K108FM. They were looking for a part-time DJ to work on the weekends. When I got there, I realized I knew the Program Director because he had been in my Journalism class. His name was Crad. We had teamed up on an in-class project early in the semester. However, he stopped attending classes after a couple of weeks. He was doing his on-air shift when I came to the station, so he interviewed me in the broadcast room. I reminded him that we had worked together in class and he remembered me.

Since I didn't have an air-check of me doing stuff on-air when I was at the college AM station or KENM/KNIT, he had me record a quick air-check in their production studio, with me introducing and talking out of a song. I remember it was "Master Blaster" by Stevie Wonder. I also read a coupld of general announcements. I thought it turned out pretty well. However, I didn't get the job.

In July, my Mom and I planned a trip to the Portales/Clovis area. Mom needed to go up and gripe about the furniture she had purchased for the fancy living room. I wanted to see the ENMU Theatre Departtment's production of "The Boy Friend." I decided to hit up the radio stations in Clovis to get a job so I could work in my field. I went to KCLV and filled out an application. There was this guy who came out and said, "You're applying to be a DJ? Yeah, that's one thing we need around here is more DJs." At the time, I didn't know he was being facetious.

I went back to K108FM. Crad was there and he was actually happy to see me. He told me that the guy he had hired decided not to work there any longer, so he was looking to hire again. A few days later, he called me and told me I got the job. I continued working at that station, became full time during my last semester in college and continued to work there two years after I graduated. I will go into full detail about my experiences there after I finish with the college portion of this blog.

The ironic thing is that if I had continued to work at the Racquet and Health Club or had started working with the tile guy, I wouldn't have applied to that radio station again, I wouldn't have had a job when I graduated from college and I probably would have had to move back in with my parents after graduating. It may have started as what I had hoped was going to be a lazy summer, but it turned into one of the most productive vacations I've ever had.

My family moved without telling me

While I was away at college my sophomore year, my parents decided to move out of the house where we had lived for almost ten years to a larger house a few blocks down the street. I guess I went several weeks without going home and the whole buying the new house, selling the old house and moving in took place without any involvement by me.

I guess I didn't make it home until April of 1984. My parents gave me the address and when I showed up, I instantly recognized it. I had rung the doorbell once before when I was selling stuff for choir. A woman answered the door. I did the sales pitch. The woman said she didn't want anything and made a comment that she had been expecting someone else. I didn't know this at the time, but the people who lived there were very wealthy and very private. They wouldn't answer the door for anybody. The family had managed to strike oil right when the Great Depression hit, so they didn't experience the struggles that a lot of other people endured during the 1930s. Mom said the woman was about the age of my great-grandmother, but looked about 20 years younger because she lived so comfortably. That woman had to be put into a nursing home and her children sold the house.

It was a very large house. There were four bedrooms and a servant's quarters outside. There were two living rooms. Including the quarters, there were three full bathrooms and two half-bathrooms. It was really more house than the family needed. Years later, Dad said he didn't want to move from the old house, especially since Loyd was only a couple of years away from going to college, but Mom wanted to act like they were rich and live in a big house. However, Dad said he enjoyed the house a lot more after he installed a hot tub.

There were two bedrooms upstairs. Loyd got the large bedroom because he was living there. Loyd's room also had a balcony. My waterbed was put in the smaller room. It didn't matter, because I wasn't going to be spending much time there.

After everything we went through with the move from the country into town in 1974, I was glad I didn't have do a single thing with this move. I'll bet Mom, Dad and Loyd were about to tear each other apart if it was anything like the last move.

Even though the house was very nice, Mom and Dad still had to do some improvement. For starters, they had to replace the carpeting. The family had a dog that lived for 30 years. Toward the end of its life, it was constantly relieving itself on the carpet. It was stained and smelled. For some reason, they also had to replace the tile in the entry way.

One odd thing about the house was that the front door and the back door had separate addresses because they faced two different streets on the corner. However, I don't think we ever got mail delivered to the back door. The servant's quarters also had its own address. Once I asked Dad for some money to go do something. He asked the same question he had asked for more than a decade, "Do you think we're rich?" I responded, "Dad, we live in a house with three addresses. Yes, I think we're rich." He never asked that question again.

One nice thing about the house is that even though it was larger, the yard was not. It only took an hour to mow the lawn. It always took at least two hours with the old house. After Loyd and I had left, Mom and Dad had to work on the yard themselves. Mom was stuck with doing the edging while Dad used the riding lawn mower. He kept telling Mom that it was really hard to operate the mower, so that's why he didn't get her do it. One day, she said, "Let me try the mower," and she realized how easy and fun his part of the yardwork was. She always mowed the lawn after that.

But they didn't live in that house for very long. I'm not really certain what brought this about, but they sold the house in 1989 (a little more than five years after getting the big house) and moved into a smaller, two-bedroom home. It was a few months after that when Dad decided to leave Mom and file for divorce. The next time I saw him in Artesia, he was living in this run-down apartment. He had an agreement with the owner that he would make at least $100 in improvements every month if he got a $100 a month reduction in rent. It was very odd to see him kind of living like me after he had lived in some very nice dwellings, the kind of which I wouldn't get myself until last year.

That big house was nice, but I never considered it my home.

Spring Break in NYC, Part 6

My final weekend in NYC started Saturday morning, 03/17/84. It was Saint Patrick's Day. I was so caught up in everything, I forgot the date. If I had remembered, I would have gone out and watched the Saint Patrick's Day parade. I woke up after it was over and saw a LOT of people running around wearing green and all these novelty hats.

Prior to coming to NYC, one of the shows I most wanted to see was "Noises Off." I purchased a ticket over the phone a few weeks before the trip. They were for the Saturday matinee. Dr. W would also be coming to this performance. Before I left from Eastern New Mexico University, I was discussing the play with Pad. We surmised that since it was a matinee performance, I was likely to not see the entire original cast.

Saturday afternoon, I arrived at Will Call and got my ticket. I was escorted to my seat. I was in the fifth row, but I was almost all the way over on the left side of the auditorium. I couldn't even see the entire set. I was standing there looking around and I guess my face displayed a level of disappointment. Someone nearby said, "Don't worry. There are five seats worse than yours." I opened up the program. I found I was partly right in my conversation with Pad. One of the main actors was not at that performance, but everyone else was.

After the performance got going, I completely forgot all about where I was sitting because I was laughing so hard. Since then, I've seen two other productions of the play (at ENMU and Denver) and the movie. I've laughed every single time.

I really didn't have anything planned for Saturday night. None of the shows available at the TKTS booth appealed to me, and I didn't have a lot of money left over. I saw Dr. W in his room. Sanz' sometime boyfriend (although I think he was never again at this point because he married someone else a year later) was there visiting Dr. W. I had met him a few times before, but he graduated before I started attending ENMU. I told him about how well I had been doing in the Theatre Department that year. I mentioned how I didn't know what I wanted to do that night. He told me that a key member of the original cast of "Brighton Beach Memoirs" had returned to the show and would be on that night. I knew right away I wanted to go see that, but I would have to use my Mom's credit card to buy the ticket.

I went to the theatre (which had recently been renamed the Neil Simon Theatre). There was a really good single seat up in the balcony. I showed the cashier my Mom's credit card and the note she had written giving me permission to use the card. He said he couldn't take the card because the cardholder had to be the one to sign the slip. He said I could call the telephone ticket service (through which I had purchased my "Noises Off" tickets), buy a ticket, come back to the box office and he would exchange the ticket from the service for that really good one in the balcony.

I ran out to find a payphone. For years, I had seen situations in movies and TV in which someone really needed to use a payphone, but there was someone using it and they wouldn't get off. I'd never seen that happen in real life, UNTIL NOW. Every payphone I found had someone using them and it was pretty clear that none of them were anywhere close to ending their conversations. I came across what appeared to be a hotel. I thought I could go in there and use their payphone. These two women came out and I went in. As I passed them by, one of them said, "You don't live here, do you?" I suddenly realized I had walked into an apartment building and there were no payphones anywhere. I apologized, explained that I thought it was a hotel and walked back out the door.

I finally found a payphone, called the ticket service and gave them the number of the hotel where I was staying. The operator said they would call back in five minutes to verify the purchase of the ticket. I ran back to my hotel and waited in my room for the phone to ring. And waited. And waited. I called the ticket service back. They said they were unable to reach me at the number I gave them, so they couldn't sell me the ticket. I found out later that the problem was that Dr. W had all the rooms in his name and not in the name of those in the rooms. That's why they couldn't verify the purchase.

I went back to the theatre box office and told the guy what happened. He decided to take the risk of allowing me to commit criminal fraud and let me forge my mother's signature. I got the ticket, came back that night and thoroughly enjoyed the performance. It was definitely worth all that hassle.

Our tour group had its final hassle Sunday morning when we were supposed to leave for the airport. We all gathered in the lobby. You may recall in Part 1 that when we first arrived in NYC, there was an issue with the shuttles not being there to take us to the hotel. This time the shuttles arrived and on time, but we had a problem with the drivers. They refused to take us to the airport unless they received their tips upfront. Dr. W kept telling them that we had already paid the tip ahead of time. He had to get on the phone with the tour agent to hash it out. Somehow, they got them to agree to take us without anyone have to pay any extra money.

(With all the problems with the shuttles at the airport and the hotel, and us not getting to see "Cats" as originally promised, Dr. W declined to hire the tour agent for his 1985 trip. He said the agent begged him not to do that, but Dr. W, who was a very patient man, had reached his limits.)

The trip home was, thankfully, non-eventful. I rode home with the graduate student I rode up with. We talked about our experiences the whole way back to ENMU.

This was the only time in college that I got to experience a real spring break vacation. I know everybody else likes to go to Florida, but from what I had seen of Spring Break on MTV, if you weren't getting drunk and having sex all week, you just weren't having fun. I really didn't see the point in all that. I'm glad I got to go to NYC, but I have no idea if I'll ever get to go back.

Spring Break in NYC, Part 5

After a wild night hitting the clubs in NYC on Wednesday, I had to get up really early Thursday morning, 03/15/84, because I had a goal to attend the taping of a late night TV talk show that afternoon. I went out to the studio and asked a few people and found out where I was supposed to wait for tickets. I was the first one there. However, I was getting hungry after about 15 minutes of waiting, so I went and got something to eat. When I got back, there were four people in line. I didn't think that was a big deal. We got our tickets. Mine was marked with #6. I guess someone ahead of me managed to get two tickets.

Later that morning, the tour group was scheduled to attend presentations from a couple of industry professionals. One was a Tony Award-winning costume designer and the other was the founder of an alternative theatre group.

The costume designed basically held an open Q&A with a lot of amusing stories interspersed in. When I first saw her and how she dressed, my first thought was, "Ugh, the Annie Hall look was so seven years ago." However, she pointed out that a lot of people would come up to her and tell her she dresses like Annie Hall. She would correct them and say, "No, Annie Hall dresses like me."

The theatre group founder was about an hour late coming in and we had to wait for him. He finally made it and it was announced that he would be delivering a lecture and would have just a few minutes for Q&A. He was certainly a commanding presence, but he just droned on and on and on. I started falling asleep. I was sitting next to Dr. W and he told me later that he got a little irritated with me for doing that, but he didn't try to wake me up because we were in full view of the founder. He didn't want to bring any more attention to me than was necessary.

I was not asleep for the entire lecture. I remember at one point, he was talking about shows on Broadway and claiming that wasn't theatre. I thought, "Well, of course it's theatre, you moron." It took me a few years to figure out that what he meant was that people should come to the theatre and have life-changing experiences, something his group worked hard to achieve. Theatre wasn't all those musical and plays that make you feel good afterwards. Good theatre will entertain you, but great theatre makes you think. This was his goal in life, and sad to say, he never really accomplished it on a full scale, but he did make an impact on those willing to make the effort.

That afternoon, I went back to the TV studio and saw this long line of people. I got in line and was holding my ticket. The person behind me told me that I didn't actually have a ticket to the taping. I had a stand-by ticket and there was a different line for that. He showed me his ticket so I would know he wasn't yanking my crank so he could get my place in line. I found the waiting area for stand-by. I was the first one there, so I waited. The main line got to go up in the elevators to the studio. After the line cleared, a page announced to us that Thursday nights were really rough for people in stand-by to get in and that he would take us in the order of the number written on our tickets. He later said they had room for four stand-bys. I held out hope that the people who were ahead of me wouldn't show up. But at the very last second, they appeared and got to go up. The rest of us were left behind. After a week of so many great things happening for me, I guess I was due for a letdown. I went back to the hotel and got ready to go out to see one of the shows that was part of our tour.

We had tickets to one of the hottest plays on Broadway, "The Real Thing" by Tom Stoppard. It was the original cast. It was an amazing play and having major star power sent the production into the stratosphere. About a year later, my parents and brother got to see a touring version of the play, but it didn't have the name cast. However, they did enjoy it very much.

I didn't do anything extraneous that night. I just went to bed. I was so worn out from the previous several nights that I spent my extra time sleeping in the hotel. I recalled my previous trips to Muncie, IN and Chicago, IL. It took me more than a week to recover from those, but those were during the summer, when I had time to recuperate. I would have to go back to classes on Monday AND attend rehearsals for "Deathtrap." I didn't want to have to resort to drugs to keep me alive the next week. Beside, I wouldn't have known where to get them (although I probably wouldn't have had to search really hard in NYC).

Friday morning was the trip to see the Statue of Liberty. We had to get on a specific subway train at a a specific time and then move between the cars all the way to the front, because there's a certain point at which the train would uncouple the front half of the cars and continue to where you get on the ferry to Liberty Island. This was the year they were doing restoration work on the Statue, so there was scaffolding surrounding her. I know a lot of tourists groaned because the scaffolding didn't make for pretty pictures, but I was actually glad I got to go there during that time. It made for a unique experience.

One of the other people on the tour told me about the last time she went to the Statue. There was this overweight woman right in front of her. On the way up to the crown is a very steep and narrow staircase. Once you start up, you cannot change your mind and go back down without creating havoc. Every few steps along the way are spots where you can sit down and rest, but no one can get past you because your legs are still blocking the stairs. She said that woman had to stop at EVERY SINGLE RESTING STOOP! It took two hours to get to the top. We were fortunate in that we didn't have any problems with people like that when we went up.

I think everybody who goes up the Statue of Liberty thinks the same thing when they get up to the top: "This is it?" I know I was expecting a large lobby area in the crown like at the World Trade Center and we could take our time viewing the skyline. Nope, the space is as narrow as the stairs. You barely get a minute to look out the windows. I'm certain you can stay longer, but the people behind you will start getting nasty if you stay too long. The trip down doesn't take anywhere near as long as the way up.

That night, we went to see "My One and Only." We were originally supposed to see "Cats," but the agent Dr. W hired to set up the tour messed up and didn't get the tickets in time. "My One and Only" still had most of the original cast, including the major leads. A couple of the minor roles (one of which was played by a somewhat well-known actor) were portrayed by understudies that night. At first I was disappointed that I didn't get to see "Cats," because I was a big Andrew Lloyd Webber fan at the time. Later, I was glad I got see a true Broadway star at work. (Several years later, I would finally get to see a touring version of "Cats.") The only problem was that because the tour agent wasted time failing to get tickets for "Cats," we wound up in the third balcony and the twerps in the front row keep leaning over the railing and blocking our view of the stage. Someone would tell them, "You need to lean back. We can't see." They'd reply, "Well, we can't see, either." I still really enjoyed the show.

I had two more days left for mishaps in NYC. I'll get to them tomorrow.

Spring Break in NYC, Part 4

The evening of Wednesday, 03/14/84, the NYC theatre tour group was scheduled to see an Off-Broadway production at Playwrights Horizons. It was "Isn't It Romantic?" by up and coming playwright Wendy Wasserstein. While it had a small but decent-sized stage, the seating consisted of regular single chairs on a flat floor.

Cristine Rose was in the original cast and she seemed to be playing a idealized version of Wasserstein. She portrayed a 30-year-old woman who was living on her own, but still could not get her parents out of her life. (This is a rather simplified synopsis.) She was really funny and endearing to watch in the play.

Outside in the lobby, there was a table with these postcards on it. The cards said that the cast and crew would be attending a special event that evening at someplace called The Heartbreak. The cards gave the address and said that the admission would be $15. I decided I wanted to go to that. After the performance, we got back to the hotel. It was after 11pm. I didn't have any cash to pay the $15 and cab fare, so I grabbed a traveler's check and went down to the lobby cashier. They had closed their bank for the night. I went out to a couple of nearby hotels and ran into the same problem. No one had any money to give me $50 in exchange for a check. I went back to my hotel and knocked on Dr. W's door. He opened it and seemed a little surprised to see me. I asked him if he could loan me $40 until I could cash a check the next day. I told him what I was going to do. I was actually surprised that he reached into his wallet and handed me two $20 bills.

I ran out and got a taxi. Since it was a weeknight, traffic was rather light and we got to the Heartbreak relatively quickly. When I got to the destination, I realized it was this huge nightclub. There was a line of people outside waiting to get in. I went up to the doorman and showed him the postcard from the theatre. He handed me a business-sized card with The Heartbreak's logo. He opened the door and told me to take that card to the window. I went up and handed the cashier the card. I started to give her a $20 bill for the admission, but she told me that I got in free with that small card. SCORE!

As I approached the main dance floor, the thought suddenly occurred to me that this might be a gay night club. The moment I completed that thought, this big burly guy in a white shirt grabbed me by the wrist! I thought he was going to say something like, "Come on, sweetie, let's dance!" I envisioned myself screaming at the top of my lungs. The next thing I knew, he took a rubber stamp and stamped the back of my hand and let go. "That's so you can get back in if you leave." "Oh, thanks."

The first thing I set about doing was trying to find the cast and crew from "Isn't It Romantic." It was after midnight at this point and I was afraid that they had already left. I looked around and I saw Cristine Rose sitting in a chair and she was surrounded by a couple of other people I had seen in the production. Asperger Syndrome be damned, I approached her and asked if she wanted to dance with me. She had a shocked look on her face. She quickly looked at the people surrounding her. Then she smiled and said, "Why not?" We took to the floor. A few seconds later, a couple of the other cast members joined us. The song ended and then an early Beatles song came on. She acted like a 13-year-old girl in the midst of Beatlemania and started screaming. (She was 33 in 1984, so yes, she would have experienced this first hand.) We danced to this song as well. After the song was over, I whispered in her ear that I had enjoyed her performance earlier that evening. She probably wasn't aware I had been in the audience that night and probably realized then why I randomly came up and asked her to dance. (I should also add that neither of the songs we danced to were slow ones, so there was no actual physical contact.)

I was very excited about what had just transpired, but I wasn't ready to go home yet. I decided to try to get a dance with any woman at the club I could get to dance with me. (I was so not there to pick up someone to go out for a one-night stand.) And as easy as it was to get Cristine Rose to dance with me, it was dang near impossible to find another girl willing to go to the floor with me. Twice, I had women tell me, "No, I'm going to go dance with her." This shocked me the first time it happened, but I saw that they weren't lesbians, they just enjoyed taking to the dance floor with their female friends.

I did succeed in getting one woman to dance with me. It was Michael Jackson's "Thriller," and it was nice because the DJ played the full-length album version, which meant we got to dance for more than five minutes. I thanked the woman for dancing with me and never spoke to her again. I had accomplished all I had set out to do and I had another full day for Thursday. All the way back, the cab kept hitting green lights. That probably saved me a few dollars.

Later that summer, I was randomly watching TV one night. A program titled "Love Long Distance" came on. It was apparent that it was a TV pilot that didn't get picked up. Normally, I wouldn't have watched it, but I saw Cristine Rose's name in the opening credist. Oh, I had to watch this. The premise of the show was this young married couple who had to spend their weekdays apart at their jobs, but got together on the weekends. Cristine Rose played the wife's weekday roommate. She was really funny, but the show didn't look like the writers would be able to come up with any more amusing stories that didn't involve the couple trying to go out in the middle of the week and surprise the other only to find out the other one did the same thing at the same time.

This was something that would continue throughout my life. I would always see her making guest appearances on TV shows. She was actually a very hard-working actress. And if I was watching something with someone else and she was on it, I would always bring up the fact that I had gotten to dance with her. And it was thrilling to see her get more notice on the show "Heroes."

And I have always wondered, in the event that I ran into her signing autographs somewhere like Comic-Con, if she would remember me once I jogged her memory. I may never find out. After all, it was more than 30 years ago.

Choose your restaurant name wisely

When I come by this place, this is all I can think about.



But some businesses can come up with worse names, like "Burns' Bakery."

Spring Break in NYC, Part 3

(I would like to take this opportunity to re-iterate one of my rules for blogging my life story. More than a year ago, I wrote that I would only write about one certain celebrity encounter that I had in my life. That will actually be in Monday's post. But for now, I need to clarify that this rule means that I'm not even going to mention any celebrities I saw on stage during my week in NYC. So, anytime I mention a certain production I attended and say that I saw the original cast or members of the original cast in it, it's going to be up to you to go on the Internet to research it to find out who I saw. I should add at this time that after I conclude this phase of the blog, I will start writing about my other celebrity encounters. However, I probably won't get to Phase II for at least another year.)

Monday, 03/12/84, was the day we did some sightseeing. We went down to the United Nations and took a tour. After that, we went to the World Trade Center, saw the stock market in action and went to the observation deck. At the time, I thought I would be making serveral trips to NYC and might go to the WTC on more than one occasion. I actually never went back and in the aftermath of 9/11, I was saddened that I would never scale the heights of the Manhattan skyline like that again. I never have been back to NYC since.

We didn't have any shows scheduled to attend that evening, so it was a free night for all of us. I decided to see what was available at the TKTS booth for half-price. When I got close to the front of the line, I saw that one of the shows with tickets available was "The Rink." This was early in the musical's run, so the original cast was still in it. I certain thought it was worth paying half-price to see these stars live. Following the performance, there was a lot of stuff going on that kept me up really late and I didn't get much sleep that night.

Tuesday morning, I had a hard time getting out of bed. Grad told me I needed to get up if I wanted to go to take the scheduled tour of the Player's Club. At first, I wanted to stay in the hotel and get some more sleep, but I figured that since this was one of the things that my parents had paid for on this tour, I should get up and go. I got to the lobby just as everyone was about to leave.

The Player's Club was very interesting and worth missing sleep over. It was a social joint for stage actors that was founded by Edwin Booth. Booth was a well-know actor in his time, but he is unfortunately more know for being the brother of John Wilkes Booth. The tour guide told us that if anyone in the room with Edwin Booth ever started talking about John Wilkes, he would just get up and leave without saying anything.

That night, we saw an Off-Broadway production of Clifford Odet's play "Paradise Lost." It was interesting to note how it looked like the single-set productions we did in college, but with WAY better actors. With this, I could definitely tell the difference between us amateurs and the real pros. Many of us had a long ways to go before reaching that level and very few of us, including myself, would ever attain that.

Wednesday morning, we took a tour of Radio City Music Hall. Seeing it on television doesn't really do the size of the venue enough justice. That place is HUGE. We got to go on the stage and under the stage. We saw the hydraulic system. It was so much more advanced than anything I would ever come across in my years of doing theatre.

Wednesday afternoon, we all had tickets to see "Torch Song Trilogy." This was not the original cast, but it was still extremely well-acted. I thought the actor playing the lead role was excellent. However, Dr. W said he was nowhere near as good as the original star. However, Dr. W did admit that the one thing this actor had going for him was that he was actually good-looking. A couple of the characters in the plays comment about how good-looking the guy is, and Dr. W did not thing the original actor was very good-looking.

In the middle of the second act, I realized I could hear someone snoring. I kind of thought it was funny, but then I realized I was the one snoring. I was so worn out from the last few days that I actually fell asleep during the performance. I was very embarassed and hoped that no one noticed. At the very least, no one gave me any dirty looks.

Some amazing stuff happened to me that Wednesday night. I will go more into detail about it on Monday.

For the remainder of this post, I want to mention an unusual situation that was taking place at the hotel where I was staying. There were families living in the rooms there. What was going on at the time was that the city was paying to house people whose apartment buildings had burned down. On of the other people on the tour said they had talked to a child who told them this was why they were living there. While I was in NYC, I saw a local news program that focused on the issue, in which there were several hotels that were being used as temporary residences for these fire victims. Some of the people who were living at the hotels said that while it was nice to be at the hotels, they really needed to be re-located to affordable housing and would rather the city pay for that instead of hotel rooms.

A little more than a year later, I saw a report on "60 Minutes" about people who were still staying at the hotels. Many of them who were at the cheaper motels were living in terrible conditions. The owners weren't doing any regular maintenance on the rooms. One woman had bugs crawling all over her food. She said that she would get a check from the city to cover the cost of the rent, but she had to immediately turn it over to the motel owner. She would rather be using that check to pay rent somewhere else.

A friend of mine in the Theatre Department said he couldn't wait to go to New York City to become an actor, where he could live somewhere that had bugs crawling all over the food. He had seen the same report.

It definitely made it hard for me to want to go to NYC to try to become a real actor. I'm glad I didn't try.

Spring Break in NYC, Part 2

On Sunday, 03/11/84, the second day of the New York City theatre tour, the group got up to go to brunch at Sardi's. This was, hands down, the best food I had ever eaten in my life up to this point. I was a picky eater and I normally wouldn't even look at a lot of the food they served, but it all tasted so good. It was almost like I was eating real food for the first time.

After brunch, the main item on the agenda was to see "Little Shop of Horrors" in the Soho section of NYC. In order to get there, we would have to take the subway. I was very scared of the prospect of taking public transportation. All I had heard were horror stories about bad things happening on the subway. I will tell you that for the whole week, not one unfortunate incident took place on the subway. But I also never rode alone. I always had one other person with me.

My TV production teacher, Dr. G, was on the tour. She used to live in New York and was very familiar with the city. At one point, Dr. G and I somehow got separated from the rest of the group on the subway. We started walking down toward Soho. I was freaking out because I thought we were going to be late for the performance. However, I found out later that the show started an hour later than I thought it did. We actually had plenty of time and made our way down to the venue. Along the way, Dr. G pointed out, "There's Grammercy Park." Grammercy Park? I knew about that park because I had read juvenile novels by Emily Cheney Neville when I was in junior high school. I said, "Oh! That's the private park!" Dr. G nodded.

We also passed Tower Records. I knew its reputation as the greatest record store in the world. I hoped I would be able to go there and check it out. We caught up to Dr. W and the rest of the tour at the "Little Shop" theatre. Rod was also there. We surprisingly still had some time to kill, so I found a pizza place nearby and got a slice. (Yeah, I ate a lot of pizza that week.)

After going inside the theatre and getting our seats, I was amazed at how small the stage was. At Artesia High School, we had a HUGE stage at the auditorium. As I found out at "A Chorus Line," the stage at my high school was larger than your average Broadway theatre. Our stage at Eastern New Mexiso University was probably about half the size of that. The "Little Shop" stage was probably one-fourth the size of the ENMU stage. I couldn't believe that they could mount a musical production on it, but they did. (The rest of this paragraph has a spoiler in it. Please skip to the next paragraph if you've never seen "Little Shop" on stage.) Another surprising thing about "Little Shop" was at the end of "Don't Feed the Plants," after Audrey II has taken over. On the last note, these cloth vines fell from the ceiling. It was a nice little jolt to end the show. This is one thing they would not be able to replicate in the movie or in most stage productions.

The tour didn't have anything planned for the rest of the day. Rod told us about what they had going on at the Off-Off-Broadway theatre he volunteered at. (Interestingly enough, that stage was larger than the one for "Little Shop.") Dr W said he would go and he encouraged us to see it as well. Many of the others went back to Midtown. I decided to stay and see the performance.

Prior to curtain, I literally had hours to kill, so I walked up to Tower Records and spent a lot of that extra time there. I went all over the store and found a couple of records to buy. There were a lot more records that I wanted, but every time I found the placard for those records, the slot was empty. When I got back close to Soho, It started snowing and blowing really hard. I ducked inside a door. When I looked up, I saw that I was inside the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU. The previous year, I had considered entering a program for playwrighting which had been recommended by Dr. R, but it was too expensive for me to go. I stood there for a few minutes, and thought, "Wow, I made it." However, there was a sign that prohibited trespassing, so I figured I'd better get out before someone called the cops on me.

I found a nearby restaurant where I could eat. I went inside and saw signs on the tables that said "$5 minimum for tables." I didn't know what that meant. I thought I would have to slap down $5 to sit at a table. The next day, I figured out that I needed to order at least $5 worth of food for me to sit at a table. I went and sat at the bar and ordered a meal. I went to the bathroom while I waited for the food. I came back and ate and spent some extra time looking at the records I had bought. This proved to be a challenge as I was trying to read the liner notes while sitting on a stool.

I paid and started to go outside. It was still cold, so I looked for my gloves. I couldn't find them. I realized I had left them in the bathroom. I went in there, but they were gone. I went back to the cashier and asked if anyone had turned in some gloves. No one did. I figured that someone just took them. That was my own fault. I was going to have to go the rest of the week without gloves, and they were really nice gloves, too. I walked all the way to the theatre with my hand rolled up inside my jacket sleeves and holding the bag of records. My hands were still cold.

The production we saw was a British comedy troupe called Bloolips. They put on this cabaret-style show with sketches and songs, but they were half-way doing it in drag. When I say "half-way," I mean they wore some women's clothing and had heavy make-up, but they weren't trying real hard to pass themselves off as women. I remember one of the guys had a butch haircut. And even though I was still a little bit of a homophobe at the time and was uncomfortable when the cast came out on stage, I did enjoy the show. One of the things that I recall was that after the intermission, one of the theatre producers made a plea for the audience to donate money to help keep the theatre group running. I was very uncomfortable with that, even more uncomfortable with being in the presence of so many gay people. I felt like I was being made to feel guilty for enjoying the presentation for which I had only paid $5. It was almost as bad as going to church and having them pass around the collection plate after we had already tithed for the month.

We went home on the subway. We had a full day ahead of us for the next day, which I will cover tomorrow.

Spring Break in NYC, Part 1

One of the greatest weeks in my life was going to New York City as part of a group trip in March of 1984. Every year, Dr. W organized the trip at Eastern New Mexico University, in which about 20 people would take part in a theatre tour of the city. We were scheduled to see several Broadway and Off-Broadway productions. We also did the typical touristy things like going to the Statue of Liberty, the United Nations and the World Trade Center.

I almost got to go in 1983. At almost the last minute, Mom and Dad said they would pay my way to be part of the trip. However, Dr. W had already filled up all the slots on the tour and advised me to take the money, put in the bank and hold on to it until next year. I didn't put any money in the bank, but Mom and Dad still paid for the trip in 1984. Mom also gave me one of her credit cards with a signed note that said it was okay for me to use it.

Originally, the plan called for me to get a ride with a couple of the other travelers up to the airport in Lubbock on Saturday morning, 03/10/84. My high school choir in Artesia was doing a performance of the musical "Anything Goes" that night. I wanted to go down and see it as it would include the last few members of the choir that I knew when I was in high school. Three other people, including Kird, actually wanted to come down with me for the road trip. On Friday, I went out and filled up my car with gas. Then, during a class at the Theatre building, Dr. W pulled me out to tell me that the people I was getting a ride with Saturday morning were actually leaving that evening and would be spending the night in Lubbock. He said I would probably have to pay for a motel room that night. I knew I had relatives in Lubbock, so I told him I would probably get to spend the night with them instead. I immediately called Mom to get the phone number for her cousin. I called him and he was willing to let me stay, especially since one of his kids wasn't going to be there that night, so there would be an open bed.

The people giving me a ride came and picked me up. It was a woman and her brother. The woman was going on the trip and the brother was just driving us. We didn't talk much during the first part of the trip. After awhile, we started opening up a little more and conversing, but not about anything really important. The woman was a graudate student at ENMU, but I don't remember much else about her.

They dropped me off at my relative's. His youngest daughter was the only other person at the house. It was time for bed, but I couldn't go to sleep. I was much too excited about the next day. It also didn't help that the mattress had a plastic covering on it and the girl had her radio blasting all night long.

The morning arrived and I took a shower. My relative drove me to the airport. Dr W was there with some of the other people on the tour. It turned out I was the only actual Theatre student on the trip. The others were older people from the area and some of them worked at ENMU. We checked our luggage, got our tickets and got on the plane. We were flying to Dallas, where we would get a connecting flight to New York City. On the first flight, we were given these danishes for breakfast. They were as hard as a rock. On the flight from Dallas, we had omelets. I remember there being mushrooms and other vegetables inside. I actually enjoyed it, but the woman I drove up with didn't care for it too much.

When we started our approach to NYC, I could see the city through the windows. I kept thinking, "Hurry up and land this plane already! What are you waiting for?" We landed and went to baggage claim. Since I'm really inexperienced with travel, I stood right by the little door from which the luggage would enter the claim area. I was kind of paranoid about being in the big city. My two pieces of luggage came through. Everyone else on the tour got their luggage and we were ready to go. The plan was that shuttles were going to take us to our hotel. We waited for an hour for the shuttles to arrive, but they never did. The whole time, Dr. W was on the payphone trying to get a hold of the travel agent who he had hired to get all this stuff ready. The agent kept assuring him that the shuttles were on the way. Dr. W gave up and had us go out and hail cabs to take us to the hotel.

We rode six to a cab. Those of us in my cab were fortunate in that we arrived without any problems. One of the others had the front bumper fall off and all the men had to get out of the cab to lift it off the street and put it back into place. Another cab was spewing so many fumes that one of the women inside got really sick. So sick, in fact, that she had to stay in the hotel the whole time and didn't get to do anything. Her husband got to do all the stuff, but she didn't. A couple of months later, she was still feeling the effects of the pollution. This could have been avoided if those shuttles had arrived as promised. Dr. W was furious about this. This was the first time in several years of tours that the group had to take taxis from the airport.

When we arrived at the hotel, I started to get out of the car. I was on the right side and opened the passenger door. The first thing I saw was a bunch of cars passing by just inches away. I closed the door and said, "I guess I'm not getting out on this side." One of the other people in the car, who had been to NYC before said, "No, you NEVER get out on the street side."

We went up to our rooms. I shared a room with this guy named Grad. I knew Grad because he played one of the guards in "The King and I." I didn't realize it at the time, but Grad was actually Dr. W's longtime companion and was mentioned in his obituary as someone who was survived by him. At the time, I had a feeling Grad was gay, but my liberal homophobic attitude at the time was "unless you actually say or do something that obviously indicates you're gay, I'm going to act like you're straight."

It was snowing outside, and I didn't feel like rushing out into the cold. I turned on the TV and the movie "Stairway to Heaven" was on. (Otherwise known as "A Matter of Life and Death.") It held my attention for the time being. One of the interesting things about the presentation was the bumpers the TV station had during commercials. They featured a helicopter shot of the Empire State Building with an instrumental version of "Theme from 'New York, New York.'" Grad kept coming in and out of the room. I'm certain he was thinking, "We're in NYC! You didn't come all the way over here to watch TV." But he never said it.

After the movie was over, I went with Grad and Dr. R into Times Square, which was a couple of blocks from the hotel. It was a truly stunning sight. I had seen this on TV and the movies my entire life, and now, I was in the middle of it. Dr. W took us to the TKTS booth. The group didn't have any performances for that night, so we were free to do what we wanted. I wanted to see "A Chorus Line" for my first Broadway experience and hoped to get a half-price ticket for that night. After waiting in line a few minutes, Grad came up and told me that they ran out of "A Chorus Line" tickets. Dr. W told me that if I still wanted to see it, I could pay full price at the theatre. I went there and got a single ticket.

There was still some time to kill before that evening's performance. Rod showed up to see Dr. W. I don't know if he knew ahead of time that I was coming, but he didn't seem surprised to see me. Those of us hanging out in Times Square went out and got slices of pizza at this one restaurant. I remember seeing Rod fold his slice in half while eating it. I thought he had become a real New Yorker.

I went to see "A Chorus Line" and was mostly surprised at how there was so much more music than there was on the original cast album. It was really nice to hear a lot of the material that I was not familiar with. I went back to the hotel and slept very well that night.

The next morning, I woke up and got ready to take a shower. I realized that I had left my bottle of shampoo/conditioner at my relative's house. I had to use the little complimentary hotel soaps as shampoo for the whole week.

More on NYC tomorrow.

A couple of dreary Christmases

I refrained from writing this article before the holidays because I didn't want to be such a downer. There are very few things stranger than having to attend funerals around Christmastime.

I had previously written about the Chruddy Christmas I experienced in 1979. I left out the part in which my family had to attend the funeral of one of Dad's cousins. This was the same cousin Mom, Loyd and I had stayed with in Albuquerque, NM in the summer of 1971 before we flew to meet Dad in Portland, OR. She had shot herself in the head around Albuquerque a few days before Christmas. Supposedly, she had just broken up with her boyfriend, and had taken some drugs and drank alcohol. I never really got the full story. I only remember meeting her that one time, but I had met her parents on several occasions.

The funeral was held in Truth or Consequences, NM, where her parents lived. This would be the first time I attended the funeral of someone I barely knew. We went to the church and gathered with the family members outside in the lobby. Everyone seemed rather calm and no one was crying. Right before the funeral began, we all walked into the temple and sat in the middle section. There were a lot of other people seated in the outer sections. I remember feeling that the other people were looking at us and thinking, "Oh, those are her family members. They're the ones who knew her the best. They must be really torn up about this." I didn't like that people I didn't know were possibly thinking that about me when they probably knew her better that I ever would.

At the end of the service, the casket was taken back to the lobby and opened up. Some of the other family members had seen the body in the funeral parlor and commented about how they could see the black marks from the gunpowder on the side of her face. When I walked past the casket, I didn't see any black marks, but it was apparent that they had put on a great deal of make-up to cover that up. Before the funeral, I saw a Christmas card from years earlier that she, her husband at the time and their two daughters appeared on. I remembered this card because it was done like a postcard with a photo of the family on it. The two girls and the ex-husband were at the services. The girls had been living with the mother when she committed suicide. Now, they were going to have to go live with her father. I remember one of the family members saying something to the effect that it was going to be difficult for the father to adjust to having to raise the two girls by himself.

I also remember the funeral procession. It's the first time I'd ever have to go on the highway to get to the gravesite. I felt that the people behind caught behind the procession on the highway were getting mad because they were trying to get home for Christmas Eve and we were clogging up the main thoroughfare.

I would get to experience that again four years later in December of 1983. That woman's father passed away of natural causes right before Christmas. Unlike his daughter, I actually remember him very well as they had come over to our house a few times. I didn't mind being considered part of the family this time. My father and I made the trip. Mom and Loyd didn't come with us. I remember having to plan out the trip as the route to Truth or Consequences. We had to go through Alamogordo. I had hoped by some chance, we would run into Loz while we were there. I was still rather hung up on her at the time.

The service was held at the same church. Dad and I were pallbearers. This was the first time I had gotten to be a pallbearer. There were six of us and we got to ride in a limo from the church to the gravesite, stalling the same highway. I didn't really know the other four guys. Since we didn't drive to the gravesite, Dad and I hitched a ride back in the limo to get our car at the church. I recall that it was rather sunny and warm most of the day, but as soon as the graveside services were over, it started getting cloudy and snowed. Afterward, we drove back and stopped in Alamogordo for ice cream. I still did not run into Loz.

One of the things I recalled about the service was that when the obituary was read, they mentioned that one of his survivors was his mother-in-law. This was my Great-Grandmother Owd, who lived in Grady, NM, close to Grandma Ogolon, her daughter. After Dad and I got home that night, we found out that Great-Grandmother Owd had died. The services would take place the day after Christmas.

So, a little background on my great-grandmother: I never got to know her very well. Dad would take us to her house in Grady every once in awhile. She never really seemed that happy to see her great-grandchildren. Anytime we did go to see her, we were usually only there for about 15 minutes. I remember the old-timey feel of her living room, as if she hadn't moved a piece of furniture or a picture in the last 30 years. I also don't recall going anywhere in her house, except for the living room. That means I never even went to the bathroom there.

After she passed away, Dad explained that she was a very mean and bitter old woman who coerced everyone to do things her way. Once, the merchantile owner in Grady didn't have enough money to cash her Social Security check, so she made him drive to Clovis to cash it. He had to close his store to do that. Dad used to talk about how his father complained that she picked the one in-law she hated the most to live close to.

My father and I were also pallbearers for this funeral. There was snow on the ground from Christmas. After the service, we went out to the gravesite and the wind suddenly started blowing. It was bitter cold. I was wearing a suit, but no warm jacket, so I started shivering. The preacher just kept going and going. Mom came up and held me to give me a little warmth. Dad commented that Great-Grandma Owd went to her grave making everyone feel miserable.

I'm lucky that I've never had another holiday season interrupted by a funeral since.

I'm in the mood for a LOT of pizza

One of the great joys in life is gorging myself on pizza, but I know my limits.



One of my Facebook friends once wrote that he bought a large pizza and thought he would have enough leftovers for a couple of lunches, but he ate the whole thing in one sitting.