Babble On

I realize my blog production is not what it should be. I should post more but I’ve been in a bit of a mental recession lately.

I was perusing the cover of In Style magazine the other day. For some reason, it arrives in our mailbox although I don’t think anybody here actually bought a subscription. The cover items run the gamut of usual crap but I was intrigued by the item about Rihanna’s “tattoo diary”. I haven’t had a chance to read it but it reminded me of a buddy of mine who had one, which I’ve excerpted here:

5/22/75
The ship docked and we were given 24 hours leave. I went to the nearest dive bar and got shitfaced. I then had a crudely rendered version of an anchor tattooed on my right upper arm

7/12/75
We docked and got 24 hours leave. Within four hours I was completely hammered and had managed to get “MOM” indelibly etched on my left upper arm.

7/13/75
Decided to stop drinking

Top Gun

I was up in Oregon this past week for my daughter’s basketball tournament. Instead of whining about how I never traveled anywhere when I played hoops, I’ll take the high road and bore the hell out of you with the trip details.

I flew up with the parents of one of my kid’s teammates. The other dad and I split the rental on an SUV, at least that’s what I told him. I was Goose to his Maverick. His driving prowess and my navigational skills combined to get us all safely and on time to all the games and our five daily meals. Apparently our reputation preceded us because we led the caravan, which included Iceman’s H3. The Love Boat’s Julie The Cruise Director was also part of our wagon train on The Oregon Trail

The first game was against one of the tournament’s best teams. Our girls played a good game but the opponents were just too fast and strong. The other side seemed to have good coaching but I think my ears were playing tricks on me. I thought the coach was exhorting his players with cries of “Matzoh! Matzoh!” and “Sippy Cup!” I finally went to get glasses last year so I guess a hearing aid is next. However, I was able to clearly hear one of the other coaches the following day. He tended not to change things up too much. When his team was on offense, he rasped “Swing It”. On defense it was “Deny”. Was it real or was it Memorex? This guy’s voice was completely shot. Maybe he was a heavy metal singer in his younger days.

My bud The Banker was also on this trip. His daughter plays for another team and we caught one of their contests along with some other games. The main venue was crawling with college coaches. We saw one team that had a lineup featuring three girls standing 6’2”, 6’3”, and 6’4”. And they could play. That game had approximately 60 scouts lining the wall.

Back at the hotel, The Banker and his wife stopped by my room for a beer one afternoon but it was a brief visit. They were there for about 10 minutes before their real friends called. Then they were gone like the wind. They left a half bottle of Hefeweizen in their wake. I could either cry in my beer or drink it. I chose the latter.

Maverick, Iceman, The Banker a lot of the other guys spent a lot of time discussing the game’s finer points. I was a fly on the wall for those conversations. I enjoy the game but I’m not what you call a basketball strategist. What I know about the game can be summed up in my high school JV coach’s statement that “You have to shoot to score; you have to score to win”. I like things simple.

As I mentioned earlier, Julie The Cruise Director was along for the trip. She arranged some great diversions for us. One afternoon we took a jet boat tour of the Willamette River. That one may have been Iceman’s idea but everyone had a fantastic time. Iceman went straight for the middle seat because he knows that gets the least water. I sat next to him. The boat driver was entertaining us when he wasn’t cranking it up to full speed or making sudden 360s to get us wet.

Our last recreational excursion, the day before we headed home, was a visit to Multnomah Falls. I took a brief walk up to a bridge but then headed back to the entrance. The girls and a couple adults decided to hike up further towards the top for some swimming. At one point Iceman realized he had to get one of the girls, who had to go home early, to the airport. He had to make a couple calls to get them going but Iceman always keeps his cool. About ten minutes after the second call, we were subjected to the spectacle of a gaggle of bikini clad girls hurtling down the steep path. We all agreed that this junket was well worth it. Most of the girls, as well as Julie and Iceman, were impressed with the falls but it had a more profound affect on Maverick and me. Although we may seem like a pair of battle hardened flyboys, we wept openly at its majestic beauty.

Hey Maverick, the check is in the mail. Honest!

Open Your Golden Gate

Today is a momentous date. We go hands free statewide and there will be no more trans fats in NYC. In addition, it was 25 years ago today that I moved out to California. The state has not been the same since. To celebrate, I plan to recycle some old material, as I threatened to do on my 5/20/08 post. Several of my readers will expect that since they say I haven’t had an original thought in years.

The passage below is a slightly edited version of a bio I sent out to my high school classmates a few years back when there were several email exchanges after a 30th reunion. I was unable to attend that event so I wanted to re-introduce myself. Shortly thereafter I got re-connected with TK and The UK. I probably should have kept my mouth shut.



Hello Everybody! I’ve been reading all your emails and postings and I've decided to join the fray. I would have loved to have been at the reunion but the witness protection program doesn't allow it. Things were going really well until my first marriage to J Lo broke up. I hit a rough patch, did a couple stints in rehab but managed to pull it all together. But when my second marriage to J Lo hit the skids, I was really beside myself.

So I tend to exaggerate a little. I'm a dull guy, which comes as no surprise to anyone. I thought I’d try to appear edgy and hip. I know. I couldn't pull it off in high school and I still can't. Let me start over.

Hi. I'm DJ and you're not. Since its been 30 years since I've spoken to many of you, this may be a little long winded. I'd advise you to bail out now.

OK, so you decided to keep reading. You gotta make choices in life. So I guess I'll pick up with the summer of '74. I remember being at a poker game and taking a quick break to watch Nixon give his resignation speech. Shortly after that I began my illustrious journey in higher learning at OCCC. I managed to get about 19 credits over a three year period while holding down a part-time dishwashing gig at St. Theresa’s Nursing Home. The Catholic connection got me the job. After a couple years there I told them that I wanted to pursue other opportunities and spend more time with my family. I quickly caught on with Lloyd’s stationery department but it wasn’t exactly the right fit. I ended up at the Holiday Inn as a maintenance man. There I learned the difference between a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. After that experience I began to see that it would perhaps be wise to pursue my degree at an accelerated pace. I went to SUNY Binghamton in 1977 and actually graduated in four years. Those OCCC credits put me over the top. I studied Spanish and spent a semester in Madrid. As I'm sure we all did, I made a few lifelong friends in college, but I won't drag them into this.

After graduation I spent a couple years in the Hudson Valley working at a school for autistic kids. After 25 winters I decided it was time to go and headed out to San Francisco, where my brother was in law school. It’s good to have a lawyer in the family. So why did the lawyer not charge his client, the shark? Professional courtesy. Alright, I just lost a few more readers. So I lived in SF for about five years, working with autistic adults and then moved on to a school for emotionally disturbed kids, where I met my wife. Just to clarify for all the wiseasses out there, she was a teacher there.

In ‘87 I started working for MCI, the pre-Worldcom MCI. It was a good company back then and improved measurably when I left in '92. In '88 I got married in sunny San Diego, where my wife grew up. It was a beautiful event and I looked great in a wedding dress. And yes, I had saved myself for marriage. My first son was born in April 1990. When he was five days old, we brought him to 4M’s wedding, where I was best man. I guess there were no other classmates around so it defaulted to me. 4M had briefly considered a former hash dealer from OCCC who was running the marketing department for a valley start-up but the old school loyalty kicked in and I got the job.

By now I was living in the burbs and doing the daily commute into SF. I went over to Sprint in ’92 and my twins arrived in '93. I did a year at Wells Fargo Bank in '97 and then went down to Silicon Valley, where I’ll be as long as they’ll have me. I managed to get my MBA at USF. I put about as much effort into that as I did into my high school education but the reason I was able to get my advanced degree was that I was not cruising around 6 1/2 station road in a '62 Mercury most of the time.

So I guess that pretty much covers my career and higher education. I love the corporate life as I'm sure all of you that are involved in it do. Excuse the whining. What the hell did I expect to do with a Spanish degree?

So what else can I tell the two or three people that decided to read this far. My kids are all happy and well-adjusted. They take after my wife. We live in the lovely town of Foster City, CA. We’ve been here for ten years. Foster City is right by San Mateo. So where the hell is San Mateo? We’re halfway between SF and San Jose. So the commute either way isn't bad. You don’t give a damn about my commute? I don’t blame you.