"I am convinced that one of the greatest displays of drumming is by Topper Headon on London Calling. Happy Friday."
I smiled as I read the incoming text from B. What a random remark, but a perfect way to finish a Friday afternoon, and start the weekend. Of course, B wrote the message during his morning commute to the office while listening to the aforementioned album, and felt compelled to send a quick note.
For my own Friday morning, 7 hours earlier, I had elected to listen to a couple other Clash albums, particularly needing to hear the song "Straight to Hell." The work week had been rather lousy, and listening to the Clash is a helpful way for me to put things in perspective, or at least find a bit of comfort. The bonus of having a good friend listen to the same band on the same day somehow made it even better.
Random events like this are nothing new, especially with the friends that I have. Over the years, we have traded the odd quick message with one another; a message that probably makes very little sense to anyone else, but for us it triggers an instant memory of a time and a place. For example, "Have a pumpkin on me," or "Here's to saxophone solos on the beach," might seem like extremely strange remarks to anyone on the planet, save for Spence and me, and that is perfectly fine.
True, many of these moments are from friends I made in school or at college, but I am certain that as we have all grown up and moved to our different corners of the world, we continue in the same manner, not only with our old friends but also more recent friends. With old friends, I like the mere fact that these messages give us an opportunity to share a brief moment and if not a laugh, certainly at least a smile.
However, I also greatly appreciate that with friends I have made in the more recent years, these random moments continue. In many cases, they involve references to music (which certainly is no surprise, given the influence that it has on me), but it could also be a simple reference to a line from a movie, a cartoon character, or an animal playing in the snow.
They have all the same significance: Heute habe ich an Dich gedacht.
And that tends to be pretty cool thing.
see you out there
bryan
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Nancy Drew and the Case of the Missing Books and Memories
One morning a few weeks before I headed to Dallas for Christmas holidays, I woke up to find that I had a few WhatsApps and emails asking me about my participation in a high school spirit group known as the Wranglers. Apparently my family and a couple of old friends were decorating the Christmas tree one evening, chatting about old times, and this question came up. My sister, you see, was also a member of this group a few years before me. However, neither she nor my old friends could recall me ever having been part of the Wranglers, while my parents were certain that yes, I had been in the Wranglers. To settle the debate, everyone turned to me, 7 hours ahead of their time zone, fast asleep in bed.
So, I responded to the query by sending a little email that helped remind everyone of the facts, and mentioned that upon my arrival stateside, would pull out my old year book and show the photos for additional evidence.
This actually unintentionally set off another small issue, as my sister was reminded that she could no longer find her own yearbooks from junior high and high school, along with some other books from that era.
I arrived back to the states a week or so before Christmas, and as always, I spent the first few days trying to adjust to jet lag, culture shock, and the memories that flood me each time I return to my hometown. This year is a bit interesting, as my nephew is doing a little study abroad, and actually attending the very same junior high school that I went to 30 years ago. Both he and my sister are staying with my parents, so I arrived to a full house. (Perhaps one day I will write a post about the irony of how the sleeping arrangements were set up: my nephew sleeps in my sister's old room, my sister sleeps in the room over the garage, and I slept in my old bedroom, which had been converted to a study and then, with the help of an inflatable mattress, a guest room. Thus, I was a guest in my own bedroom.)
The first couple of mornings, I rode along when we took my nephew to school; he was finishing up finals week, and I hadn't seen my junior high in at least 20 years. Though I didn't go inside the school, I could visualize the various class rooms and hallways, which probably haven't changed all that much over the years.
One night before dinner, I stayed true to my word and located the box of my old books (labelled rather clearly "Bryan's books and annuals") in the garage, and brought them inside. Sure enough, there were a handful of photos of me in the Wrangler group from my senior year at high school. Everyone browsed through the 3 yearbooks from junior and the 3 from high school; my sister took more time with my high school yearbook, partly because she recognized so many names. Like her, many of her classmates all had younger siblings who were my classmates. I suspect that she was also wondering to herself, "where the hell are my yearbooks?"
What I didn't anticipate was how my nephew reacted to the annuals. He went through all, found interesting pictures of people and enthusiastically commented on them. Then, somewhat to my horror, he began reading out loud all of the entries that my friends and classmates had written.
I quickly tried to remember how many of those entries might be inappropriate for the dinner table, and figured about 70% would be safe and innocent enough. I was a pretty good student, pretty well behaved, and more or less stayed out of trouble during school, but that didn't mean that everything was aboveboard. Fortunately, no one ever wrote anything in my yearbook to the effect of "Liquor, I never even knew her!" or "I'd like to bend them over and eat them like an ice cream cone," but still, I was eager to avoid any awkward moments having to explain the significance of some random comment like, "oh...that teacher Mr xxx was such a fucking jerk," or something like that.
Thankfully, most entries were "hey, have a good summer. bye," and "have a nice life. don't do anything i wouldn't do" and "party hard." In other words, typical things that everyone writes in yearbooks, especially at a time in their life when things are usually bigger than life. For example, "party hard" takes on a whole new meaning once you enter university, or maybe when you move to a German city which has a really popular pub next door to your flat.
Anyway, the yearbook review was a nice reminder of the past, and I repackaged the books and put them back in the garage for safe keeping, while my sister kept wondering where her own yearbooks were.
During the Christmas break, I found it interesting to spend my time with my 13 year old nephew. He is just like any other teenager that I know (not that I know all that many), and reminds me a whole lot of how I was at his age, particularly as he is literally doing many of the exact same things that I did. He is going to the same school (albeit for probably just one year) as I did at 13, and he sings in the youth choir at church.
This year, the youth choir group is celebrating it's 50 anniversary. The current group is preparing for their big fund raiser, but many former members are actively involved with the celebration preparations. While at church my first Sunday back, an old friend told me about the photos he had collected of our old times when we were in the choir, including several photos of me. Wow. Talk about some memories.
Sure, I am sentimental, but I don't really harp on about my past. In truth, I didn't enjoy my teenage years so much, but I have found that just about everyone says the same thing. Perhaps it was easier to recall the times that were not so great, but over the holidays I realized that I actually have a lot more positive, happy memories from those years than bad memories. Of course, it is always relative, but I needed the refresher.
I am not really a fan of social media, and am extremely glad that I am no longer a teenager (dependent on a smartphone for 90% of social communication), but looking through the yearbooks and seeing the old choir pictures posted on facebook, I am glad that we have the opportunity to share these kinds of things and stay connected.
Last week, I reconnected somewhat randomly with an old friend from junior high and high school, and was delighted that he shared a few old bits and pieces from when we were in 9th grade. More evidence of great memories and times. I seem to recall that we hosed all the dancers with our super powerful water guns during Frankie's "Relax," only for Mr Madsen to come storming in the DJ booth minutes later angrily wanting to know who had water guns. "It wasn't us..."
Great stuff, Steve, many thanks.
As I wrap up this piece, I will mention that on the day before I returned to Germany at the end of Christmas break, I helped my father take down some decorations and store them in the garage. As we were trying to make some space, I found two heavy boxes, and upon opening them, was delighted to find my old collection of Hardy Boys novels. The second box contained my sister's collection of Nancy Drew mysteries, and ALL of her junior high and high school yearbooks.
Case closed.
keeping up the happy thoughts on a cold January Saturday morning
bryan
So, I responded to the query by sending a little email that helped remind everyone of the facts, and mentioned that upon my arrival stateside, would pull out my old year book and show the photos for additional evidence.
This actually unintentionally set off another small issue, as my sister was reminded that she could no longer find her own yearbooks from junior high and high school, along with some other books from that era.
I arrived back to the states a week or so before Christmas, and as always, I spent the first few days trying to adjust to jet lag, culture shock, and the memories that flood me each time I return to my hometown. This year is a bit interesting, as my nephew is doing a little study abroad, and actually attending the very same junior high school that I went to 30 years ago. Both he and my sister are staying with my parents, so I arrived to a full house. (Perhaps one day I will write a post about the irony of how the sleeping arrangements were set up: my nephew sleeps in my sister's old room, my sister sleeps in the room over the garage, and I slept in my old bedroom, which had been converted to a study and then, with the help of an inflatable mattress, a guest room. Thus, I was a guest in my own bedroom.)
The first couple of mornings, I rode along when we took my nephew to school; he was finishing up finals week, and I hadn't seen my junior high in at least 20 years. Though I didn't go inside the school, I could visualize the various class rooms and hallways, which probably haven't changed all that much over the years.
One night before dinner, I stayed true to my word and located the box of my old books (labelled rather clearly "Bryan's books and annuals") in the garage, and brought them inside. Sure enough, there were a handful of photos of me in the Wrangler group from my senior year at high school. Everyone browsed through the 3 yearbooks from junior and the 3 from high school; my sister took more time with my high school yearbook, partly because she recognized so many names. Like her, many of her classmates all had younger siblings who were my classmates. I suspect that she was also wondering to herself, "where the hell are my yearbooks?"
What I didn't anticipate was how my nephew reacted to the annuals. He went through all, found interesting pictures of people and enthusiastically commented on them. Then, somewhat to my horror, he began reading out loud all of the entries that my friends and classmates had written.
I quickly tried to remember how many of those entries might be inappropriate for the dinner table, and figured about 70% would be safe and innocent enough. I was a pretty good student, pretty well behaved, and more or less stayed out of trouble during school, but that didn't mean that everything was aboveboard. Fortunately, no one ever wrote anything in my yearbook to the effect of "Liquor, I never even knew her!" or "I'd like to bend them over and eat them like an ice cream cone," but still, I was eager to avoid any awkward moments having to explain the significance of some random comment like, "oh...that teacher Mr xxx was such a fucking jerk," or something like that.
Thankfully, most entries were "hey, have a good summer. bye," and "have a nice life. don't do anything i wouldn't do" and "party hard." In other words, typical things that everyone writes in yearbooks, especially at a time in their life when things are usually bigger than life. For example, "party hard" takes on a whole new meaning once you enter university, or maybe when you move to a German city which has a really popular pub next door to your flat.
Anyway, the yearbook review was a nice reminder of the past, and I repackaged the books and put them back in the garage for safe keeping, while my sister kept wondering where her own yearbooks were.
During the Christmas break, I found it interesting to spend my time with my 13 year old nephew. He is just like any other teenager that I know (not that I know all that many), and reminds me a whole lot of how I was at his age, particularly as he is literally doing many of the exact same things that I did. He is going to the same school (albeit for probably just one year) as I did at 13, and he sings in the youth choir at church.
This year, the youth choir group is celebrating it's 50 anniversary. The current group is preparing for their big fund raiser, but many former members are actively involved with the celebration preparations. While at church my first Sunday back, an old friend told me about the photos he had collected of our old times when we were in the choir, including several photos of me. Wow. Talk about some memories.
Sure, I am sentimental, but I don't really harp on about my past. In truth, I didn't enjoy my teenage years so much, but I have found that just about everyone says the same thing. Perhaps it was easier to recall the times that were not so great, but over the holidays I realized that I actually have a lot more positive, happy memories from those years than bad memories. Of course, it is always relative, but I needed the refresher.
I am not really a fan of social media, and am extremely glad that I am no longer a teenager (dependent on a smartphone for 90% of social communication), but looking through the yearbooks and seeing the old choir pictures posted on facebook, I am glad that we have the opportunity to share these kinds of things and stay connected.
Last week, I reconnected somewhat randomly with an old friend from junior high and high school, and was delighted that he shared a few old bits and pieces from when we were in 9th grade. More evidence of great memories and times. I seem to recall that we hosed all the dancers with our super powerful water guns during Frankie's "Relax," only for Mr Madsen to come storming in the DJ booth minutes later angrily wanting to know who had water guns. "It wasn't us..."
Great stuff, Steve, many thanks.
As I wrap up this piece, I will mention that on the day before I returned to Germany at the end of Christmas break, I helped my father take down some decorations and store them in the garage. As we were trying to make some space, I found two heavy boxes, and upon opening them, was delighted to find my old collection of Hardy Boys novels. The second box contained my sister's collection of Nancy Drew mysteries, and ALL of her junior high and high school yearbooks.
Case closed.
keeping up the happy thoughts on a cold January Saturday morning
bryan
Friday, January 15, 2016
I Blinked, But I Didn't Miss It!
I sat down with a cup of coffee on the second morning of this month to tidy up my expenses from my stateside visit. The trip was quickly coming to an end, and the following day I would return to Germany. I had managed to stay within budget, and that pleased me, although it was not a huge surprise. The exercise went quickly, so I took advantage of the fact that no one else was awake (only pausing briefly to wonder why the hell I was up so early on my last day of vacation) and decided to scratch out a list of a few goals that I would like to achieve during 2016. I prefer not to call these things Vorsätze, or resolutions, though I suppose one could make the argument that that's pretty much what they are.
Interestingly enough, at the top of my list was "post more entries in your blog."
Now, it is not as if I sat down two years ago and made it a point NOT to make any postings, it just sort of happened that way. Certainly a few people did inquire, and while I always appreciated the thoughts (most inquiries were positive, as in "I miss reading your posts," as opposed to, "Hi, when will you post more dumb crap?") I knew that I would have to reach that point when I really felt like writing again. Truthfully, I have missed it myself, but it wasn't until I had a late night conversation outside the pub with a buddy of mine that I realized that time was right to write another post.
It is certainly easy to get caught up in things, or to get out of routine. Sometimes distractions are pleasant, and other times they downright suck. Sometimes excuses are valid, and other times, they are so worthless that you deserve all the flak that you get.
Since I am not making excuses, there will thankfully be no flak.
That night outside the pub, my friend and I talked about a variety of things, including our time in Germany over the past years. He made a point about me that I needed to be reminded of; he reminded me of who I am, and that my story is worth sharing.
I was caught off guard with his remark, but I took the compliment as he intended it to be.
A few weeks later, I headed back to Texas to celebrate Christmas holidays with the family. With regret, I did not see all the friends I wanted to see, but on the positive side, I did get some much needed quality time with family and a few friends. As good a trip as it was for me, it went by so quickly, and again I am amazed at how fast time seems to pass. Just when I was getting over my jet lag, it seemed like we were taking down the tree and the lights from the front of the house, and I was packing my bags to return home.
Fortunately, I kept my eyes open (save for the first few evenings when I fell asleep on the couch right after dinner) and cherished the time, as brief as it was. Happy thoughts helped send me back to Europe for the next part of my adventure (otherwise known as my life) with a bit more perspective, not least of all that it is an adventure worth sharing. Sure, time goes quickly, but all the more reason to enjoy it for what it is.
see you out there
bryan
In no certain order, the following establishments deserve my particular thanks.
Londoner Pub - (nice one Arsenal)
Venturity (thanks for keeping me accountable)
Sprouts grocery store (where they don't get upset if you accidentally grind 2lbs of decaffeinated coffee before you realize you messed up)
Northpark Center (plenty of parking, as long as it is not Christmastime)
Old Monk
Idle Rich Pub
Joe T Garcia's
Fuzzy's Tacos
and
Goliad
Interestingly enough, at the top of my list was "post more entries in your blog."
Now, it is not as if I sat down two years ago and made it a point NOT to make any postings, it just sort of happened that way. Certainly a few people did inquire, and while I always appreciated the thoughts (most inquiries were positive, as in "I miss reading your posts," as opposed to, "Hi, when will you post more dumb crap?") I knew that I would have to reach that point when I really felt like writing again. Truthfully, I have missed it myself, but it wasn't until I had a late night conversation outside the pub with a buddy of mine that I realized that time was right to write another post.
It is certainly easy to get caught up in things, or to get out of routine. Sometimes distractions are pleasant, and other times they downright suck. Sometimes excuses are valid, and other times, they are so worthless that you deserve all the flak that you get.
Since I am not making excuses, there will thankfully be no flak.
That night outside the pub, my friend and I talked about a variety of things, including our time in Germany over the past years. He made a point about me that I needed to be reminded of; he reminded me of who I am, and that my story is worth sharing.
I was caught off guard with his remark, but I took the compliment as he intended it to be.
A few weeks later, I headed back to Texas to celebrate Christmas holidays with the family. With regret, I did not see all the friends I wanted to see, but on the positive side, I did get some much needed quality time with family and a few friends. As good a trip as it was for me, it went by so quickly, and again I am amazed at how fast time seems to pass. Just when I was getting over my jet lag, it seemed like we were taking down the tree and the lights from the front of the house, and I was packing my bags to return home.
Fortunately, I kept my eyes open (save for the first few evenings when I fell asleep on the couch right after dinner) and cherished the time, as brief as it was. Happy thoughts helped send me back to Europe for the next part of my adventure (otherwise known as my life) with a bit more perspective, not least of all that it is an adventure worth sharing. Sure, time goes quickly, but all the more reason to enjoy it for what it is.
see you out there
bryan
In no certain order, the following establishments deserve my particular thanks.
Londoner Pub - (nice one Arsenal)
Venturity (thanks for keeping me accountable)
Sprouts grocery store (where they don't get upset if you accidentally grind 2lbs of decaffeinated coffee before you realize you messed up)
Northpark Center (plenty of parking, as long as it is not Christmastime)
Old Monk
Idle Rich Pub
Joe T Garcia's
Fuzzy's Tacos
and
Goliad
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