The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Hello, Fortune and Fame. That’s right, folks, I’ve found the ticket to fortune and fame. My writing will find its way to the light of day because everyone won’t be able to get enough of one of the many singers in ‘Johnny and the Racist Undetones’ – the nation’s hottest band.

Over Christmas I got together with a few cousins to go to a bar for trivia night. A few brains in the group were missing, but we still managed to tie for last! (Due to the brilliant thinking of my cousin Lockout, who suggested that we not bet all but one of our points on the last round … we bet all but TWO … then everyone gets the final question wrong and we’re sitting pretty with two points and first place, while all those other dopes are tied for last place with one point! Unfortunately another team had the same idea, and everyone else actually answered the final round correctly. Hence, tied for last place with a grand total of two points.)

Anywho …

The cousins who WERE there stumbled on the next big band. That’s right, you’ve already heard of us, Johnny and the Racist Undertones.

You see, we would drink a little bit, then take a long, hard look (about a minute) at the lyrics of a popular song … and then cover this song.

Opening verse? Solid.

Chorus? Belting it out!

Second verse on out … A mix of the actual words plus some improvised mumbling/rhyming words/gibberish.

Unfortunately, none of us are really experts at musical instruments, so we’ll have a whole lot of vocalists. Also, as far as I know, none of us are really all that stellar when it comes to singing.

Lockout’s second brilliant idea was to supply the racist undertones. During songs, he would “sing backup.” His backup would take the form of whispering racist things.

Who could resist the charm of Johnny and the Racist Undertones? I’ll tell you who – no one.

Grandpa

Earlier this week my paternal grandfather passed away, which is sad but not entirely unexpected. At first the plan was for some of the grandkids to tell stories at the memorial but that has been changed. Nevertheless, it set my mind thinking about stories about my grandpa and I just wanted to share the ones that came to mind.

One summer when I was in college we (my mom, dad and I) went to “the cabin.” (“The cabin” is a cabin in northern Arizona that my parents and grandparents co-owned. My parents thought it was a great thing because, being a Military family, we didn’t have a permanent home. The cabin was our permanent home.)

At some point after arriving my grandma asked my dad to cut down a branch from a tree. She asked my dad to do this because she was worried about my grandpa hurting himself if he did it (I think grandpa was ok with this in theory, but I think he wanted to be the one to get the work done). I was also sent along on this branch cutting fun. I don’t honestly remember if my dad told me to come along, or my mom – but knowing my dad, I would guess my mom asked me to go (like grandpa, I’m sure my dad was confident and would’ve been perfectly content to do this work himself). This is funny to me – the two wives, and moms, turning to the younger one and saying, “hey, how about you wield the chain saw.”

My dad propped the ladder up against the tree and began to climb. I think I was standing at the ladder, trying to keep it steady, and grandpa was a few feet off. No one was happy. My grandpa was, in his way, worried about my dad’s safety. I was right there, in my own way, doing the same. These worries came out in the form of saying, “ehhh … careful … no … you know … let me do this, huh?”

Eventually (I’m honestly not sure why) my dad decided to hand the reins over to me. It could be that a slight bit more reach was needed, and my lanky frame was fit for the job. I climbed the ladder and now experienced what my dad had just been experiencing – two people worried about my safety and saying hey wait, let me do this instead.

I don’t think I am doing a very good job of describing this moment, because I can’t convey with such a simple, silly thing – cutting a branch down in the woods – how much of each of us was shown there. It really was a very touching, caring moment.

My grandpa was an electrical engineer. My dad is a mechanical engineer. I am a software engineer. And here’s what I’ve noticed about engineers – we (very often wrongly) think we’re better than you. My logic is the most sound logic – your logic is flawed and, frankly, illogical. We’re obnoxious.

Generally, if an engineer wants to take over doing something for you it’s not because you’re doing it wrong, it’s that you’re not doing it just right. But here was a moment where each of us wanted to take over in our very engineering way, “no, no, don’t do that …” (watching and analyzing and seeing that you should have your feet more spread apart on the ladder, can’t you see that your positioning is troublesome at that height) – except instead of wanting to take over to correct the wrong it was all out of care and love.

So, that’s  that.

The other two memories that come to mind are fast. I promise.

1 – One time when I stood up (my sister says from a chair, I thought it was me getting out of a car) my grandpa said, “wow! Look at those limbs! You’re like a spider!”

My grandpa had a very quick wit and was a clever fella. Unfortunately, those jokes he had usually left my mind because they were spot on in that moment, but then you forgot about them after the situation passed. I really do wish I had written down some of the gems he’d said.

2 – One day at the cabin I headed out to the back deck to read. Not long after I headed out there, my grandpa came outside and sat down with a book as well. He looked up at me and grinned. It felt like he was a little brother who wanted to do something together. I could be all wrong there, but I like thinking that he wanted to come join me and he was enjoying it just being us two sitting outside, reading.

3 – Bonus third! One time (according to my mom), my grandpa called me handsome. So take that!

Lastly – you know what’s awkward? Co-workers saying, “ooooh where are you going? Big trip!” and you saying, “ah … no … um … it’s not a good trip,” but still they’re looking for an answer, so eventually you spit out that it’s for a funeral and you get emotional and close to tears in a cubical. Cubicals are no place for tears!! (Don’t worry Story Teller, if you’re reading this, I appreciated you asking and I found the moment funny and awkward – just my style.)

I’ll be back to blogging regular stuff next week sometime.

Welcoming 2013

New Year’s Resolutions come and go. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to have some. I just need to “re-brand” it. I need to combine a resolution with a slogan. Make 2013 a year known as … something.

2013, Make Friends with a Queen

That could be a potential resolution AND slogan. Am I currently friends with a queen? Not that I know of. Should I become friends with one? Yes, if I can’t think of a funnier slogan.

Don’t be Mean in 2013

That’s not funny in the slightest, but it would probably a good resolution. What’s that mean? That means: NEXT!

Read Like a Preteen in 2013

This is the most doable so far of all of my resolutions. In 2012 I read the Hunger Games books very quickly. With this resolution I could feel like an avid reader due to the number of books I could read without having the burden of having to use my brain.

Be Green for 3013

See what I did there? It’s a 2013 resolution, but … see, by being green I’d be saving the world for another … ah, whatever. One simple change/”resolution” I made in late 2011 was to use less paper towels when drying my hands in public restrooms. All you do is shake your hands a bunch, and then you only need one paper towel. So simple!

Make Being a Badass Routine in 2013

BOOM! I don’t know how I’m going to do this, which makes it perfect for a New Year’s resolution. It’s vague so I can say anything accomplishes this resolution.

“Hey, did you actually stick to your resolution?”
“Me?, yeah, heck yeah. I committed to being a badass and you know what? I did that. I didn’t change a thing about me to better myself, which shows I’m confident in who I am, so that’s pretty B.A. dude.”
“Sounds like you’re just lazy and self-congratulating.”
“I know. B.A., right?”