Walking Distance

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People

 have told me how much better things would be for us all if we

went back

and

reclaimed a time when things were better.

 

This scene from ” The Twilight Zone ” describes 

what we should probably take into consideration

before we do that.

 

Walking Distance

written by Rod Serling

 

Robert Sloan: Martin.

Martin Sloan: Yes, Pop.
 

Robert Sloan: You have to leave here. There’s no room, there’s no place. Do you understand that?
 

Martin Sloan: I see that now, but I don’t understand. Why not?
 

Robert Sloan: I guess because we only get one chance. Maybe there’s only one summer to every customer… That little boy, the one I know – the one who belongs here – this is his summer, just as it was yours once. Don’t make him share it.
 

Martin Sloan: Alright.

Robert Sloan: Martin, is it so bad where you’re from?

Martin Sloan: I thought so, Pop. I’ve been living on a dead run and I was tired. And one day I knew I had to come back here. I had to get on the merry-go-round and listen to a band concert. I had to stop and breathe, and close my eyes and smell, and listen.

Robert Sloan: I guess we all want that. Maybe when you go back, Martin, you’ll find that there are merry-go-rounds and band concerts where you are. Maybe you haven’t been looking in the right place. You’ve been looking behind you, Martin. Try looking ahead.


The Girl With The Man’s Name

The Girl With The Man’s Name

and her son

Who Could Be Our Next President

 from the Seattle Times, Seattle Washington:

 

Stanley Dunham, in a Mercer Island High annual.

Memories of Obama’s mother

By Nicole Brodeur
Seattle Times staff columnist

This is going to sound strange, Maxine Box says, but 50 years later, she can’t forget it:

Barack Obama’s mother used to crack her knuckles.”Constantly,” Box told me as we sat in her Bellevue home on the eve of Super Tuesday, talking about Stanley Dunham, the girl with the man’s name and the son who could be president of the United States.

Box, 65, was Dunham’s best friend at Mercer Island High School, where they were members of the Class of 1960.

“Obama Mama,” is how they refer to her in the school’s front office when reporters come around. The Mercer Island Reporter. The Chicago Tribune. Staffers got used to pulling out the 1960 yearbook, until it was recently misplaced.

Same with Box’s copy of the yearbook; it’s in her house somewhere.

But it doesn’t matter — the memories are still clear as day.

And Box wants to keep them that way, to somehow honor the friend who died of ovarian cancer in 1995, before she could see what her son would accomplish; that he would become one of the final two Democratic candidates in the race for president.

Politics may divide us, but a mother’s pride, well, that’s a feeling that easily crosses party lines.

“She’d be overwhelmed that he’s done what he’s done,” Box said of her friend. “To think that your child has grown up to be this fine man that so many people love. … “

Box called her friend “Stannie,” a nickname for Stanley. She was named for her father, who wanted a boy — and the girl knew it. As a result, their relationship was strained.

“He was hard on her, in that he picked on her,” Box said of Stanley Dunham, a furniture salesman in downtown Seattle.

“He had a sarcastic humor,” Box said, “and she could give it back.”

Dunham’s mother, Madelyn, a bank employee, was “very quiet and serious” and often protected her daughter from her husband’s sarcasm, Box said. (She is still alive, but the Obama campaign has not made her available for interviews).

Dunham and Box were part of a close group of girls who attended football games and sock hops but didn’t really date. They listened to The Limeliters, The Kingston Trio, The Brothers Four. Their parents played cards together.

Dunham and Box walked home together after school, usually stopping at Box’s house for mint-chocolate cake before Dunham went on to the Shorewood apartments, where she lived with her parents.

“I don’t remember prolonged intellectual discussions,” Box said. “But we were all questioners. It was the feeling of the whole school. We were on the debate team, we knew about current events.”

And they felt “destined” to attend college.

Box wanted to work with children, and got a teaching degree at the University of Washington.

Stannie “was such a good student, very intellectual and above all of us. Not just thinking about boys and clothes.”

When her father took a job selling furniture in Hawaii, Dunham moved with them and enrolled in the University of Hawaii.

Not long after, Dunham wrote Box that she had met a Kenyan grad student named Barack Obama. They married and had a son.

For all the tension Dunham had with her father, Box said, her parents stood by her when her marriage fell apart a few years later.

Dunham eventually remarried an Indonesian man and moved to Jakarta. At one point, she sent her son, Barack, back to Hawaii to live with her parents for a year.

Later, Dunham worked with international relief agencies, focused on women’s development.

Box last saw her friend in 1961, when she visited Seattle on her way from Honolulu to Massachusetts, where her then-husband was attending Harvard.

“She seemed very happy and very proud,” she said. “She had this beautiful, healthy baby. I can see them right now.”

If only Box could see them together again; her friend with her son, the U.S. senator. The husband and father. The presidential candidate.

Obama’s book “The Audacity of Hope” is dedicated “To my Mother, whose loving spirit sustains me still.”

Box has vowed to support Obama.

“And not just because of knowing his mother. I would have the same feelings. But this makes it extra special.”

Nicole Brodeur’s column appears Tuesday and Friday. Reach her at 206-464-2334 or nbrodeur@seattletimes.com.

Hey, bring that yearbook back!

Yes We Can

and will

A Voice From Snohomish County, Washington

calling for change

amm

Lyrics:
It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the destiny of a nation.

Yes we can.

It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists as they blazed a trail toward freedom.

Yes we can.

It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores and pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness.

Yes we can.

It was the call of workers who organized; women who reached for the ballots; a President who chose the moon as our new frontier; and a King who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the Promised Land.

Yes we can to justice and equality.

Yes we can to opportunity and prosperity.

Yes we can heal this nation.

Yes we can repair this world.

Yes we can.

We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can stand in the way of the power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics…they will only grow louder and more dissonant ……….. We’ve been asked to pause for a reality check. We’ve been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope.

But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.

Now the hopes of the little girl who goes to a crumbling school in Dillon are the same as the dreams of the boy who learns on the streets of LA; we will remember that there is something happening in America; that we are not as divided as our politics suggests; that we are one people; we are one nation; and together, we will begin the next great chapter in the American story with three words that will ring from coast to coast; from sea to shining sea –

If

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Looks COUNT.

Skin color COUNTS.

What sex you are COUNTS.

Your religion COUNTS.

Then

 WHY does it feel like

so many of us

DON’T MATTER

Please Tell Me This Isn’t True

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Back in the 70’s our local bus company finally got radios on their buses which meant that when they had a problem they could actually call it in from their bus instead of hoping there was a pay phone nearby ( and around here there was like three and none of them were on a bus route ) that they could use or they would have to stop at somebody’s house, knock on the door and and ask to use the phone.

It’s true, sometimes you’d be walking home from school or coming home from work and there would be be a bus parked in front of your house and when you went in there was a bus driver using your phone.

So, back to the story.

Shortly after the buses get radios my third grade class ( I was about 10 at the time) went on a field trip to the beach.

We all had to drop in ten cents and because this wasn’t a school bus it was like five minutes before me and my friend had our magic markers out and we were drawing on the backs of the seats in front of us.

It was great- my specialty in those days was this little dog with a pitchfork tail and three eyes- I drew that thing every chance I had.

So anyway, the beach- this Park Ranger told us all about tide pools and the little animals that lived in them and how much trouble you could get into if you hurt those creatures or the plants.

He looked right at me and my friend the entire time he talked and if you want to know the truth I was starting to feel a little defensive- which moved straight into outright defiance.

At the end of the day all I had in my hands was my beach workbook and my return fare and no magic markers because me and my friend had to toss them out the windows as we drove down the street when the Driver kept asking,

” Do you kids smell that? “

None the less, some of us were prepared in more then one way for the trip home.

 My seat mate and fellow artist was a kid named Darrin (yes, the infamous Darrin to you regular visitors to my Bones) drops his fare, plus about three little baby crabs into the slot where the change goes and when the bus driver sees them crawling around in there she is not happy.

She can’t get them out, she told Darrin and me ( I was standing behind him and because I was laughing I’m guessing she thought I was in on this stunt ) because the fare box is locked and when she goes to hit the counter the baby crabs are going to get crushed when they get dropped down in the money holder.

” You’re a jerk.” I tell Darrin and when he turns around to argue with me the Driver tells everyone to get on the bus, not to put any money into the farebox and to wait.

Quietly.

Oh Brother.

Our teacher made us sit with him, which was never a pleasant experience because whenever Darrin and I got into trouble he’d tell us how we were making Jesus sad.

Oh big deal.

A sad Jesus…me and Darrin were Catholics- threats of a sad baby Jesus or a Jesus crying in heaven was lost on us.

Without a Priest or an angry Nun around to back him up our teacher was pretty unimpressive in the religious intimidation department.

However.

What acutally made the situation feel worse was that we had to sit up front on a bench seat with the teacher….and we were right behind the driver so we could see her nodding and agreeing with our teacher everytime he informed me Darrin in this soft reassuring voice that were going to wind up in Hell telling the Devil about how we tortured small animals.

Instead of being in Heaven with everyone else feeding straw to lions.

I’m not kidding here.

Then the driver flips some switches and says into her receiver, ” Dispatch, I have crabs in my box what should I do?”

And we hear a voice say, ” We didn’t get these radios so you could tell everyone about your personal problems.”

They made me and Darrin walk home.

It’s A Girl Thing

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UCLA STUDY

A study conducted by UCLA’s Department of Psychiatry has revealed that the kind of face a woman finds attractive on a man can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle.

For example: If she is ovulating, she is  attracted to men with rugged and masculine features. However, if  she is menstruating or menopausal, she tends to be more attracted  to a man with duct tape over his mouth and a spear lodged in his  forehead while he is on fire.

No further studies are  expected

well…I guess that’s because there isn’t much more to say.

* scored this joke from LORI

Oh and this song just sort of belongs to a joke like this.

Nature Of The Beast

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I’ve been told I should support Clinton-

because she’s a woman.

I’ve been told  I should support Obama-

because he’s not white

and I’m not either.

I’ve been told I should not to support Richardson because then I’d be practicing Identity Politics.

When I say I like Edwards I’ve been reminded, somewhat sternly, that he’s a White Man from the South-

he’s not the candidate for people like me I’ve been told.

Next thing you know I’m going to need to start asking which water fountain I should be drinking from.

No.

I’m not trying to be funny.

That’s what I think.

 

Don’t F$#@ With Darrin

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Darrin and I have been friends since we were seven.

He expressed his affection for me by offering to marry me when we were in the First Grade everyday at morning recess- in front of my friends and the sixth graders and on his knees.

My answer was to tie him to the tether-ball pole and to leave him there until recess was over.

In the Second Grade Darrin used to draw hearts on my desk- in magic marker.

I used to beat him up for that because darn it, that ink would NOT come off and for some reason the teacher who thought this situation was ‘too cute for words’ ( as he told my Mom ) couldn’t ‘find’ another desk.

And then part way through the third grade it occurred to me to just ignore Darrin.

That went on for weeks until one day I’m in my room- and there’s a knock on the living room door and I hear it open and I hear

Crying

It’s Darrin and he’s there with his Mom and they’re talking and my Mom and when I went out there all I could say was

” I haven’t touched that Cootie..I hate that Cootie…he BUGS me.”

I thought I was pretty darn funny.

My Mom is not amused.

 Friends and neighbors she doesn’t even blink – I don’t think she was even breathing- she was MAD.

So my Mom asks Darrin what I did ( I was tried and convicted on the spot- my Mom does not screw with due process ) and that little Cootie- Head says

” Anita hates me…she won’t talk to me anymore.”

Not only did my Mom take away my bike, she took away my record player-

just for making Darrin cry.

So at a very young age I learned…

Don’t mess with Darrin

I ‘ve lived by that for over 30 years now.

So a couple of years ago I get this e-mail from Darrin.

We’re both Doctor Who fans and he tells me that when he was in the U.K. he saw the new Doctor on the TV.

Here’s what he said,

” His name is David Tennant and do you know what Anita? I never thought I’d say this becuase I didn’t think it could ever be true- but there is someone out there who is far more prettier then you are.”

So I google David Tennant take a good look  and fire back this e-mail

” Dear Cootie Maestro,

When the Master shows up he’s totally going to make this guy his Bitch.”

Darrin sent a copy of that to my Mom- who couldn’t punish me but it should be noted that for Christmas that year she didn’t give me her traditional gift of Cherry Cordials ( the mint ones ).

Even from his Grandmother’s house on the other side of the world Darrin got me busted.

God!

 So for a couple of YEARS I have bit my lip everytime Darrin starts talking about

and I quote

” Doctor Whoa Baby Tennant “

It was all good until about a month or so ago when I called Doctor Who a floozy- well for god-sakes it was a comment section and how was I supposed to know people who don’t comment ( LIKE YOU DARRIN ) read those things-

Anyway, Darrin sees it…

so he says it’s my choice-

I give up blog space to Doctor Whoa Baby or he tells about the time I….

well-

anyway 

he’ll do it.

And how long will I have to do this for?

Until I die.

Like I said Don’t F*&^ with Darrin.

But don’t worry Darrin… Mon Petit Insecte…

Vengence will be mine.

One day my Mom will NOT be around to protect you.

Until then…

here’s some Doctor Whoa Baby stuff….Darrin….you Toad…

the pen is mightier than the spork…

blah blah blah, missing scientist, blah blah blah, atom bomb

this is a great blog- go see it for yourself- and to get you moving along  it does involve YOU KNOW WHO  HERE

This is a fun clip.

I happen to like the song, plus somebody gets slapped around a couple of times- anyway….here it is….

This is a pretty cool fansite…if you’re interested in pictures and things of that nature that involve Mr. Tennant

Okay.

I’m done.

For now.

Geeze

 

Same Planet Different Worlds.

On one world someone ( ahem Max ) likes this guy- he’s a famous actor.

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My niece- who is a sane 15 and exists on the same Planet as Max -knows him as the PriceLine.Com guy-

okay, I have to fess up when I  started to think about this warp in reality I felt like I was in one of those Twilight Zone Episodes involving Mirrors and people who look like the people you know…

but they’re not.

( scary music bit comes in here )

Okay- for real now….

I actually thought that entire Priceline/ Captain Kirk situation was pretty funny until I remembered the first time I was shot into a screwed up alternate reality.

Here’s what happened- I  was a HUGE MEGA fan of a band called Slade when I was like 10 or 11 and shut the Heck up about it years later when  this Metal Band hijacked TWO…COUNT THEM… TWO of their songs and flew them straight up the charts.

I should have had more guts…I should have at least laughed at the lameness of it all…I was a musician, I played in clubs, I taught guitar and you know what? I could have articulated why something like this was just wrong, wrong, wrong.

Well I didn’t, and that turned out to actually be a defining moment in my life because from that point on  I NEVER hid how I really felt about Music or  Politics or Writing after swallowing that bitter piece of vomit.

Okay, it’s history-Slade still rocks and over the years I still haven’t changed- I still speak up- in fact-

I like to speak up…and I do it every chance I get.

 So in closing  here’s a pretty great song that Quiet Riot DIDN’T record.

Yay.

Enjoy.

amm

 

Slade

 Run Run Away

I like black and white (dreaming of black and white)
You like black and white
Run run away

[chorus]
See chameleon
Lying there in the sun
All things to everyone
Run run away

If you’re in the swing (money ain’t everything)
If you’re in the swing
Run run away

If you gotta crush (don’t beat about the bush)
When I gotta crush
Run run away

Oh now can’t you wait (love don’t come on a plate)
Oh now can’t you wait
Run run away

See there chameleon
Lying there in the sun
All things to everyone
Run run away

Run run away
Run run away
Run run away

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(click on the Pic to get to Slade’s Official Site)

Hey Google! Yeah YOU!

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 Google is trying to make one of my favorite Bloggers disappear.

Check it out: Stupidtom All Around

And remember…he maybe one of many

but he’s the best.

amm