Mustang Folly

They were a beautiful herd of horses. Mustangs, nearly a hundred of them. They’d roamed free for more than a century. Officially, they were feral horses, their ancestors once lived a fettered existence.

Wyoming. There was ample grazing, streams, and lakes. A playful lot of equines with colors ranging from white, brown, a dozen or so roan, black with white spots and vice versa. They often ran for an hour or more at a time and engaged unfrequented terrain.

It was on just such a bolt the herd took off. The weather was crisp, with a mild cool breeze, and a cloudy sky overhead. The run made their powerful muscles taut with effort and their commendable stamina carried them for two hours, into unfamiliar land.

There was a narrow pass with a 10-foot drop which they all easily navigated. Once through, the pass expanded out into a large plateau extending for a mile or so. Approaching a cliff, their run had concluded.

They sought out water. Just a sip, really, to refresh their lathered condition before heading home.

There were cliffs on one side, an unnavigable rock wall on another, and the path from whence they came now an insurmountable 10-feet up! There was no other way. Even the best attempts by the mustangs yielded jumps that were several feet too short. All the mustangs had by now become aware that there was no water available. They would soon all realize there was no way out.

There was plenty of shade, but tomorrow would be another story. Vultures had already begun to congregate with an uncanny anticipation. An engorging like this comes but not often enough.

-klem
4/2009

Woodward

He was not known for his golf. Yet for one weekend in the spring of 1989 his thirst was unquenchable. We’ll call this fellow Woodward.


Spring 1989

We were college chums, Woodward and I. He was curiously insistent one Saturday that we go to the golf course and whack a bucket of balls. I put up little opposition. Ranging we went.

At our best we were below average. But this deficiency of golf talent bogged us down none at all. Upon contact with the dimpled white orb it would often go straight. The bucket emptied and we departed. Unbeknownst to me, this same Woodward later returned to the outskirts of the golf range and absconded with a number of errant balls.

It was later that afternoon he suggested we knock some balls off the cliff of Isla Vista into the ocean, the Pacific Ocean. Golf is not my thing, to be sure. I can easily go a decade without craving a round of golf. But twice in one day? Off the cliff into the ocean had its intrigue. Enough intrigue to surmount my comfortable inertia.

He on bicycle, me on skateboard, we traveled almost a mile from my apartment to the launching point. We teed off. A few balls landed on the vacant beach below, but most, surprisingly, landed in the shallow surf 150+ feet away from the cliff wall. Less than ten whacks each, the novelty extinguished, we concluded the exercise.

I lived at an apartment complex occupied 100% by college students. The weekend evening was typically loud with music and socializing. It was deep into the evening and beers were being imbibed.

Woodward, not yet done with golf, suggested we whack a few off the roof of the apartment building. One could easily step over the three foot railing of my third floor unit patio and out onto the roof of the second floor. My daily tolerance for lawbreaking had been sufficiently sated what with the litter bugging by launching golf balls off the cliff. Plus, broken window and car dent possibilities were all around this thickly residential neighborhood. This potential for property damage easily overrode any hankering of interest. Yet, he proceeded.

It was perhaps ten minutes later, I observed a very angry citizen and two police officers engage Woodward. The golf balls and club were confiscated. I do not know if a ticket, fine, or payment for damage was also involved.


He’s a unique animal, my Woodward. But not without his redeeming qualities. The Big Lebowski (1998), starring Jeff Bridges, ranks highly amongst his favorite films.
-klem

Juicy Burgers

‘We’ve got juicy burgers,’ goes the advertisement.

Juicy burgers? Really? That’s your effort to tantalize the populace?

First things first. It’s not really juice, is it? Isn’t it really cow grease? So is your advertisement telling prospective patrons that you’ve got greasy burgers? And that’s the focus of enticement? Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve no appetite for a burger that is greasier than the next.

Second, if it’s greasy, maybe you’d like to cook it longer until it’s done. Burn off the excess grease, man. Let’s not talk about the grease as if it were a drawing point.

I suggest an amended advertising ploy. Perhaps a slogan that boasts instead, ‘We’ve got tasty burgers.’ Of course, you’ll have to fix the grease problem, first.
-klem

Pokemon

At three years old, Pokemon was one of our boy’s passions. Pokemon is a cartoon series where kids, they look about ten years old, walk from city to city looking for creatures to catch. These creatures are called Pokemon. Ash Kechum is the main character with Brock, his sidekick, and their friend Misty, in addition to a number of other smaller role players.

Each Pokemon has unique powers. As the kids catch Pokemon they are then available for the kids to call on to help remedy the troublesome scenarios they face in each episode. The Pokemon are generally friendly to humans, though they resist being caught, and they evolve and get more powerful depending on their experiences.


Q1 2005

With his baby sister just a few months old the boy was insistent that we call her JigglyPuff. Jigglypuff is a Pokemon resembling a pink ball with feet, hair, and facial features. ‘When the baby is old enough to walk and talk,’ he explained, ‘she would become WigglyTuff,’ the evolved form of JigglyPuff.

As for the main character, Ash Kechum, the boy assigned this esteemed identity to himself. I was dubbed Brock, his sidekick, and Wife Klem was Misty, Ash’s ‘girlfriend’. [In the cartoon series both Ash and Misty clearly liked each other, but denied it at every opportunity. They were ten years olds.] Our dog was assigned the wild card status to play any role needed (i.e., any Pokemon creature or the bad guys from Team Rocket). Nice how he incorporated the whole family.


At his peak Pokemon interest, we were at the park one afternoon, the boy and I, and he was pointing to kids and yelling, “I choose YOU!” That is what Ash Kechum said when he called his Pokemon into action.

If I sound well versed in the doings of Pokemon, it is so. In his early years I’ve read many Pokemon books to the guy before bed. Plus, I’ve been on the receiving end of many related conversations.

In the words of the venerable Ash Kechum, “I choose YOU!”
-klem

The Milkshake Miracle

Our boy is in second grade. The students regularly take 8-minute math tests which entail 100 addition and subtraction equations. The numbers are one and two digits with none greater than 18.

On Monday the boy brought home a math test scoring a lowly 29 / 100. F! The next couple evenings were riddled with 8-minute practice tests administered at home, threats of having to repeat second grade if his math grades don’t improve, and discussions as to how math is important. Then came the important part.

I told the boy he’d get a milkshake if he scored 90+. As a bonus, the lovely Wife Klem also offered to buy him a book. I thought this would get the guy’s attention and help him to focus on the task at hand.

Yesterday the boy brought home a 97 on his 8-minute math test! What a difference a milkshake makes! A 200% improvement! At the time of the offer, the prospect of a 90 or more seemed outside the realm of possibility. I’m happy to see that I stand corrected.

The boy cashed in the offer after dinner and took down an orange creme shake prepared by a local burger franchise.


I wonder if he intentionally duped us.
-klem

10 Things I Don’t Like

1. malfunctioning alarm clocks

2. rubbernecking on freeways

3. a heartily stubbed toe

4. willful misrepresentation of facts

5. litter bugs

6. Dog poo on my front lawn. Come on, pick up after your dog, people.

7. Anything billed as ‘hand made’, unless it’s intended for immediate consumption (i.e., pancakes, sandwiches). I prefer not handmade. There are few exceptions.

8. Being engaged in conversation while occupying a urinal. No thanks.

9. “no pun intended”

10. Any written correspondence in ALL CAPS.


-klem

10 Things I Like

1. Tossing a football with a chum

2. Checking on the kids before turning in for the night

3. Playoff baseball

4. the Laffer Curve

5. the Doppler Effect

6. exact change

7. Mercury’s [Hg] negative surface tension

8. symmetry

9. the occasional umblaut

10. Eating glazed or frosted donuts upside down so as to assist the taste receptors by getting the frosting directly onto the tongue. But not sprinkled donuts, lest you risk the sprinkles tumbling to the floor.


-klem

Ah, Yes, I Know That Smell

The nose seems to never forget. Sure, you’ve got the obvious smells like chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven, cigar smoke, or a barbecue. My favorite smells are the ones that return me, even if only temporarily, to a prior event or period of my life.


Example 1: Mint

I’m not talking mint as in mint chocolate chip ice cream. Not a York Peppermint Patty, spearmint, nor the mint liquor of a mint julep. I’m talking the actual mint leaves rubbed together. Mint.

The olfactory stimulation brings me back to the late 1970s. I had a friend who lived two doors down. We’ll call him Wickman. We were in our early teens and occasionally played football with my two older brothers in his backyard. They had mint plants adjacent to the grass, the playing field. The ball carrier, when tackled, often landed in the mint and would roll around in it as a result of the collision.

By end of the game we’d smell fresh as a field of mint. The green stains, however, were not as welcome, I’m sure. Sorry about the mint stains, mom.


Example 2: Tomato Plants

I’m not talking about tomatoes, tomato sauce, or a tomato-fennel relish. Actual tomato plant leaves rubbed together.

A nostril or two stuffed with such a welcome waft brings me to my younger years. Grandma and Grandpa Tedesco both hailed from the old country, Italy in the north. Dating as far as my mental archive can go, they had tomatoes growing in the back yard which were implemented in making their own sauce. It seems every year gramps would rip out a few square feet of lawn to squeeze in another few tomato plants. The smell of a tomato plant leaf brings me back to that back yard.


Mint and tomato plants. Good smells. Good memories.
-klem

Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond, a book report

Some books you finish reading with a sense of relief, as if you had endured a hardship. There are others you complete with a sense of satisfaction. I finished Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond last week saying to myself, “Wow. Now there’s a lot to think about.” My attention was fully vested from the opening segment.

Ever wonder when and where humanity got underway? When and how it spread from one continent to the next? This book closes those loops. It’s very interesting looking at the map showing humanity’s flow from one continent to another. [A couple quick facts to provide a bit of mental kindling: humanity started in Africa about 7,000,000 BC, moved into Asia in 1,000,000 BC, Europe 500,000 BC, Australia 40,000 BC, North America 12,000 BC, and South America 10,000 BC.]

Ever wonder why or how people on a specific continent seem to enjoy a bountiful existence while people on another continent reside along the opposite extreme? It’s not biology or the capacity of a certain group of people that is on display in the quality of their existence. Rather it’s the environment that is, by far, the predominant factor in fueling the quality of a people’s existence.

When humanity arrived on a continent it was the large animals (those that average 100 pounds or more) present on the continent that played a large role in shaping this environment. Some large animals can be domesticated while others cannot. Eurasia, for example, had 72 varieties of large animals indigenous to the continent of which 13 were eventually domesticated. South America, on the other hand, had 24 large animals of which only 1 became domesticated, the alpaca. There’s a big difference on human society if you’ve only got the alpaca to work with as opposed to cattle, horses, pigs, and goats. Then there’s Australia who had only one such indigenous animal, the kangaroo. Even if the guy could have been domesticated, what’re you gonna do with a kangaroo? Implement it to sow crops? One can see how the animals available played a significant role in shaping the local human existence.

The plants indigenous to a continent also played a significant role. The plants that were present to be domesticated and farmed greatly affected a people’s ability to improve their food possibilities. They could largely determine whether a group of people would be hunters-gatherers or farmers. An abundance of human-friendly plants made population booms possible as societies evolved from hunting-gathering to farming because farming was able to support a larger number of people per acre.

Have you ever pondered the significant results of human improvement? Pottery, for example, was first used about 12,000 BC. This spurned a population boom as people were now able to cook plants and make food more easily consumable. Plants that were too tough to chew became easier to eat. Older generations were able to live longer now that proper nourishment was available, whether or not they had teeth. This elongated life span allowed them to pass on a lifetime’s worth of knowledge to the younger generation. Plants which may have previously been inedible, due to toxins or poisons, could now be soaked and leeched of the toxins or poisons such as in the case of nuts.

If those discussion points are of interest to you, this book may spark up an entertaining sequence of brain synapses. Fascinating, the trail of events that shaped humanity and accompanying explanations.


Thanks for the recommendation, JMac.
-klem

Babies by Suit Size

“Congratulations on your baby boy,” says the doctor. “He’s 6 pounds, 12 ounces, and 19 inches long.”

Why is this acceptable? Why are babies measured in terms of length like some kind of reptilian birth? Enough, I say. Let’s bring some dignity to the announcement of a baby’s dimensions. I propose that from hence forth babies be announced by suit size.


Example 1: “Congratulations on your baby! He’s 6 pounds, 12 ounces, and he’s a 3-Regular.”


Example 2: If the baby has long arms, “Look at the reach on that baby! He’s a 4-Long!”


Or is it just me?
-klem

The Adventures of Tedesco - Robot Invasion

The following tale is based on a nightmare my boy had recently. A robot invasion at school.

“That sounds cool,” I told him after he shared the details of his dream.

“Wasn’t cool for me,” he responded in a dejected tone. True enough, my friend. But thanks for sharing it anyway.


The Adventures of Tedesco - Robot Invasion


Tedesco lay awake in his bed. Another school day. Seeing through his window blinds the sun was up, the sky bright blue and it looked like another warm one. ‘Good day out there,’ he thought to himself. Tedesco was almost eight years old. Second grade was winding down and it was almost summertime.

With his parents and sister still asleep he rolled out of bed and went downstairs. His good dog, Kira, was sitting at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him. Her tail was wagging briskly brushing the carpet.

“Good dog, Kira. Let’s get you a snack, but don’t tell anyone,” he said. Reaching into the refrigerator he grabbed a slice of his dad’s sandwich meat and gave it to his dog. It was gobbled and consumed seemingly too quick to enjoy.

He sat down at the kitchen table and poured himself a bowl of cereal and milk. He ate while leafing through his Visual Dictionary, a recent book acquisition. He took down a second bowl and forwarded it to the sink and got dressed for school. He had been in the habit of getting up before everyone else, so his mom had been laying his clothes out the night before on the couch.

He could hear his parents upstairs. He figured he’d give them a break and make his own lunch today. He retrieved his lunch bag, a blue ice from the freezer, and proceeded to pack. Two pop tarts, cookies, juice bag, two granola bars, a cheese stick and a banana. Nobody was there, yet, so he also tossed in a soda, the rascal.

“Morning, Bongo. What can I get you for breakfast,” asked dad walking into the kitchen just as Tedesco zipped his lunch closed.

“Thanks, dad. I already ate and packed my lunch,” he said stuffing his lunch sack into his backpack. “It’s a great day out. Is it OK if I ride my scooter to school,” he asked.

“If you’re willing to wait fifteen minutes I’ll drop you off,” dad offered.

“I’d like to ride today, if you and mom don’t mind,” requested Tedesco. They lived close to school and he sometimes rode his bike or scooter. But his parents didn’t know that he sometimes also brought Kira to school.

“OK, but say good bye to your momma and sister before you go,” said dad.

“Hi, Tedesco,” said his little sister coming downstairs just now. She was in preschool and her class started an hour after Tedesco’s.

“Morning, Jackie. Hi, mom,” with his momma coming downstairs right behind his sister. “I’m leaving for school now. Dad gave me the thumbs up to ride the scooter this morning.”

“Good bye, Tedesco. Have a super day,” said mom reaching down to pick up his pajamas off the floor.

With that he slipped into the garage with his dog, got the scooter, and exited the rear gate. It’s probable that nobody would even know that Kira was gone. She usually flopped herself out in the yard or behind the couch all day.

His ride to school was brief and his dog ran alongside. There was a hill right by school adjacent to a park. There were a few very large overgrown bushes and trees and this is where his faithful noble beast would await his return.

“Stay, Kira. I’ll come back after school. You watch my scooter, good dog.” He tossed his scooter down in the bushes, patted Kira’s head and ran the half block to school.


After the morning spelling test there was an announcement over the loudspeaker, “Robots have invaded the city and we need someone to check it out. Volunteers will please come to the office.” It was the principal.

Tedesco and two friends volunteered. First things first, suggested Tedesco, he had to check on his dog. They got to their hideout but Kira was gone! Trouble was at hand. The scooter was there, so he picked it up and they continued on their way. They heard noise and commotion at the park. Staying hidden in the overgrown vegetation along the park’s perimeter they moved toward the noise.

At the park they saw the robots and a spaceship! There were six robots. They were tall as a grown man, made of a shiny black metal and had skinny arms and legs like baseball bats. Their torso, however, was thick and round like a barrel of root beer.

There was a playground fort at the far end of the park. Running along in the overgrown hillside the boys dashed to it unseen. Tedesco left his scooter on the ground by the swings while the three boys hid out in the fort and decided what to do next.

The boys could see most of the park from the vantage point provided by the fort. The spaceship was large and silver with lights all throughout its underside. It was round like a soccer ball and as tall as a two story house. It had no windows and it rested on one large rectangular protrusion extending from the belly of the craft. There was a door at the bottom where they could see robots coming and going. The robots had also captured some adults and held them in the jungle gym with a metallic netting. The boys saw that one of their teachers was amongst the captured.

Suddenly, a robot appeared as if out of nowhere and picked up Tedesco’s scooter. It hadn’t seen the boys as it turned to go back to the spaceship. But Kira, who must’ve been in the bushes, saw the robot grab her boy’s mode of transport and charged the robot!

Kira lunged and collided with the robot between steps. It was caught off balance and the thing toppled over.

“Let’s help Kira,” yelled Tedesco. The boys hopped into action. He jumped down and grabbed the scooter. He saw the robot was having difficulty getting back to its feet. With the arms flailing back and forth Tedesco saw the there were wires in the arms. He got an idea. He remembered how his own battery operated toys stopped working when they got wet or fell into the bath tub.

“Come on guys, we need to get them wet! The robots won’t work. Turn the sprinklers on and get that hose on them,” he yelled pointing to the park’s utility shed.

At this point the robots’ alarm siren started to ring and robots rushed out of the spaceship like ants charging out of an anthill. There were now more than 20 robots! The boys were scared, but they were committed to action. These crummy robots weren’t going to take his scooter and wrestle with his dog without suffering the consequences.

Two boys ran to the shed. They turned the sprinklers on and then the hose. The spacecraft and robots were getting blasted with water.

Tedesco was riding around on his scooter and the robots couldn’t move fast enough to catch him. Kira was running next to her boy making sure he was safe.

The robots were all caught in the spray and began to act erratically. It was then the captured adults managed to climb out of the jungle gym entrapment and scampered off to safety.

The robots, now thoroughly doused from the sprinklers and hose, had stopped moving or making noise. Their circuitry was totally destroyed by the water. They were out of commission as completely as Tedesco’s dad while watching football on Sunday afternoons during football season.


Tedesco and his friends were rewarded by the school with a homework pass! “Awesome,” the boys exclaimed. If they got a homework assignment they didn’t like they could simply turn in the homework pass. Kira was rewarded with a hamburger patty. It was gobbled and consumed seemingly too quick to enjoy.

The school bell rang and class was dismissed. Tedesco and Kira raced home.

“Hey, did you hear about the robot invasion today,” asked his mom when he got home. “I heard it was right near the school.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t seem too tough,” replied Tedesco. “Can Jackie and I go to the park and run through the sprinklers,” he asked as if it were just another day.

-klem
4/2009

[Other Adventures of Tedesco have been posted on 2/15/2009 and 3/12/2009.]

Sandwiches for Lunch

October 1990

I was very recently out of college and two months into a professional job. I was earning less than $2,000 per month prior to taxes and my expenses were winning an unfortunate tug of war.

The $5-6 per day I was spending at lunch would no longer do. Plus, wasting half my lunch time getting to the food outlet (driving or walking), waiting in line, followed by a quick wolfing down of the meal due to lunch break time constraints made the whole experience increasingly less tolerable. I resolved myself to making my lunch everyday and hauling it in to work. Two sandwiches, a soda pop, an apple, and sometimes a yogurt just to mix things up.


Nineteen years have passed since the inception of lunchtime sandwiches. Lunch remains largely the same these days. The soda pop has been switched out for water. Two sandwich allotment has been reduced to one, turns out my motor no longer takes as much fuel to keep afloat. The apple and occasional supplement remain in force.

The lunching experience has evolved over the years. At inception, I ate lunch in the car parked in the shade listening to the radio and reading Sports Illustrated. This pleasure of solitude was occasionally traded in for lunch with company cohorts, but not often. After a job change, this packed lunch was eaten at my desk enjoying the silence (silence because everyone else was out to lunch) and reading a magazine or book. Present day, I often eat while driving on the freeway listening to talk radio as much of my job has me in the field for the bulk of my work week.

I have difficulty imagining my two decades of lunch breaks had the homemade sandwiches not been implemented. The difficulty imagining pertains to health, weight gain, financial outlay, and time wasted getting to lunch, waiting in line, and getting back to work. I’ve no patience for line standing. I’m pleased with myself, but then, I like routine.

Lunch today was 1.5 toasted bagels bookending ham, turkey and mozzarella. [Thanks Mom Klem for the leftover Easter pig and bird.] Also ate a pear. Consumption increase for today was due to the approaching ‘throw out’ date of the bagels. More bagels remain, but I think I can beat the date.
-klem

Paragliding

Fall 1991

My kid brother had purchased a booklet of extreme activities coupons. You know, 25% off scuba diving lessons and $50 off parachuting! I thought it interesting that he would buy such a thing. I asked him ‘What gives?’

Some guy had been selling the coupon books, my brother bought, and he was redeeming a bunch of them. Paragliding was next on the slate, he advised, and he offered to split the discount. With that, I was on board. Our older brother also joined in.

Saturday morning. We set off for our discount rate paragliding lessons. Paragliding has you attached to the sail by means of a harness. You stand upright and relax into a sitting position once you are aloft.

A one hour drive delivered us to the meeting spot. The trainer was a world class paraglider, we came to understand. How degrading this must have been for him to have to spend half a day horsing around with the likes of us shlubs. Yet, here we were.

The first stop was a practice location. We took numerous runs off a 50-foot hill to familiarize ourselves with the controls and getting used to the feel of the lift of the wind in our sails.

After an elegant lunch at a fast food taco franchise we went to the next location. A 1,100 foot plateau! The 50-foot hill was a sloping terrain. If you wipe out you’re not actually gonna fall 50 feet straight down. An accident on the practice hill might drop you 15-20 feet to the gently sloping ground and then you’d simply roll down the hill like a buffoon. Embarrassing, to be sure, but there was minimal risk of absorbing major bodily damage. But the plateau meant business.

Timing is important when jumping off a plateau and you are trusting wind in a sail to prevent you plummeting to the ground. You want to feel some resistance in the sails before you jump. Funny thing, you’d think apprehension would prevail at the thought of leaping off a mountaintop and looking down at the possibility of death. Not so, or at least I didn’t experience any. There was actually an eager anticipation.

I made three jumps that afternoon off the plateau. While sitting up high in the sky pulling at my control handles, one in each hand, the thought of falling to the ground brought no fear due to the sense of control I felt that I had. The flying contraption was easy to maneuver.

Upon returning to our parents’ house there was an abundance of diminutive sandwiches at our disposal. Mom Klem had guests to the house earlier in the day and had it catered with sandwiches. Tiny delicate sandwiches, they were, and could be best described as delicious and numerous. Tired, dirty, and hungry we decimated these leftovers.

A fine day.
-klem

Top 150 Novels of the 20th Century

I like to read, it’s true. My peak year was 30 books read in 2000. That was a year before we had our first child. I toppled a meager six books that next year. The goal for 2009 is 14 books; I’ve scored four to date.

A friend of mine, another bibliophile, almost a decade ago came across a list of the Top 150 novels of the 20th century. McGettigan the Elder is this one. We’ve both engaged the list and seek completion. I’ve lopped off 87 of the 150 so far and am aiming to topple three more before year end. After becoming disenchanted three years ago with the readability of some books on this list I’ve settled on a steady pace of four books per year off the 150.

Here’s the thing about the list, many of those books are pretty crummy. Whoever compiled the list, I suspect, confused the meaning of ‘Top’ to mean evocative or cutting edge, rather than good or entertaining. But the joke, apparently, is on me, this McGettigan, and a few other suckers making progress toward completing the list.

My sister, JQ, has fallen prey to the 150. Determination and a good attitude keep her buoyant. My friend, and insurance agent, McBride is on it and nearly done! [If you seek a well read insurance agent licensed in California, I will gladly forward his contact coordinates upon request.]

Examples of bad literature that rank amongst the list:
Ulysses - James Joyce
Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
Brave New World - Aldous Huxley


I will say this for the list, there have been a number of novels I really enjoyed that I might otherwise have never consumed.

Examples of good literature amongst the list:
Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand
Gone With the Wind – Margaret Mitchell
Watership Down – Richard Adams
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
The Good Earth - Pearl S. Buck
Lonesome Dove - Larry McMurtry


The list of the Top 150 novels of the 20th century follows. But first, two notes:

Note 1: If you consider engaging the list, be careful. Think it over before you commit yourself. A long arduous journey stands before you like a thorn riddled hurdle.

Note 2: My dear friend McGettigan the Elder, if you scour the internets some lazy afternoon and rustle up a list of the Top 150 of the 21st century, I kindly request that you forget to forward it.

-klem

Top 150 Books of 20th Century

1.The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
2.1984, George Orwell
3.Catch-22, Joseph Heller
4.The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck
5.Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
6.Animal Farm, George Orwell
7.Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
8.Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison
9.Ulysses, James Joyce
10.The Lord of the Flies, William Golding

11.Catcher in the Rye, J. D. Salinger
12.Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
13.The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner
14.Portrait of the Artist as Young Man, J. Joyce
15.To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee
16.The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway
17.Native Son, Richard Wright
18.Beloved, Toni Morrison
19.Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell
20.To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf

21.The Lord of the Rings, J. R. R. Tolkien
22.The Color Purple, Alice Walker
23.On the Road, Jack Kerouac
24.The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton
25.The Good Earth, Pearl S. Buck
26.Charlotte's Web, E. B. White
27.The Hobbit, J. R. R. Tolkien
28.Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
29.Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier

30.The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood
31.A Stranger in a Strange Land, Robert Heinlein
32.My Antonia, Willa Cather
33.A Farewell to Arms, E. Hemingway
34.A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess
35.I, Claudius, Robert Graves
36.Ethan Frome, Edith Wharton
37.The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemmingway
38.A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith
39.Winesburg, Ohio, Sherwood Anderson
40.Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Hurston

41.The Call of the Wild, Jack London
42.The World According to Garp, John Irving
43.A Passage to India, E. M. Forster
44.The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, Muriel Spark
45.The Good Soldier, Ford Madox
46.The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan
47.Lonesome Dove, Larry McMurtry
48.One Flew Over Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey
49.Sister Carrie, Theodore Dreiser
50.U. S. A.(trilogy), John Dos Passos

51.Angle of Repose, Wallace Stegner
52.Sophie's Choice, William Styron
53.Lady Chatterley's Lover, D. H. Lawrence
54.Exodus, Leon Uris
55.All the King's Men, Robert Penn Warren
56.Rabbit Run, John Updike
57.The Golden Notebook, Doris Lessing
58.The Jungle, Upton Sinclair
59.Portnoy's Complaint, Philip Roth
60.The Ambassadors, Henry James

61.From Here to Eternity, James Jones
62.Little House on the Prarie, Laura Ingall Wilder
63.The Golden Bowl, Henry James
64.Winnie-the-Pooh, A. A. Milne
65.The Bean Trees, Barbara Kingsolver
66.2001 : A Space Odyssey, Arthur C. Clarke
67.Possession, A. S. Byatt
68.Under the Volcano, Malcolm Lowry
69.All Quiet on the Western Front, Erich ReMarque
70.Tender is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald

71.Women in Love, D. H. Lawrence
72.The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand
73.Song of Solomon, Toni Morrison
74.Stone Diaries, Carol Shields
75.Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck
76.Roots, Alex Haley
77.Look Homeward, Angel, Thomas Wolfe
78.Pale Horse, Pale Rider, Katherine Anne Porter
79.Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad
80.The Maltese Falcon, Dashiell Hammett

81.Of Human Bondage, W. Somerset Maugham
82.Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Carson McCullers
83.Darkness at Noon, Arthur Koestler
84.Sons and Lovers, D. H. Lawrence
85.The Naked and the Dead, Norman Mailer
86.Dune, Frank Herbert
87.A Room with a View, E. M. Forster
88.The Way of All Flesh, Samuel Butler
89.The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Frank L. Baum
90.Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe, C S Lewis

91.Hound of the Baskervilles, Arthur Conan Doyle
92.The Burger's Daughter, Nadine Gordimer
93.A Confederacy of Dunces, John K. Toole
94.An American Tragedy, Theodore Dreiser
95.The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley
96.East of Eden, John Steinbeck
97.Henderson the Rain King, Saul Bellow
98.Howards End, E. M. Forster
99.Appointment in Samarra, John O'Hara
100.Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys

101.Cry the Beloved Country, Alan Paton
102.Ragtime, E. L. Doctorow
103.The House of Mirth, Edith Wharton
104.The Wings of a Dove, Henry James
105.Death Comes for the Archbishop, Willa Cather
106.The Studs Lonigan Trilogy, James T. Farrell
107.Bastard out of Carolina, Dorothy Allison
108.Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller
109.The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath
110.As I Lay Dying, William Faulkner

111.The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Thornton Wilder
112.A Handful of Dust, Evelyn Waugh
113.A Good Man is Hard to Find, Flannery O'Connor
114.The Killer Angels, Michael Shaara
115.Go Tell it on the Mountain, James Baldwin
116.The Shipping News, Annie Proulx
117.White Noise, Don DeLillo
118.Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand
119.The Heart of the Matter, Graham Greene
120.Deliverance, James Dickey

121.The Wapshot Chronicles, John Cheever
122.A Dance to the Music of Time, Anthony Powell
123.Snow Falling Cedars, David Guterson
124.Point Counter Point, Aldous Huxley
125.Watership Down, Richard Adams
126.The Moviegoer, Walker Percy
127.The Red Badge of Courage, Stephen Crane
128.The Secret Agent, Joseph Conrad
129.A Death in the Family, James Agee
130.Nostromo, Joseph Conrad

131.Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
132.The Rainbow, Pearl S. Buck
133.A Prayer for Owen Meany, John Irving
134.Pale Fire, Vladimir Nobokov
135.Ironweed, William P. Kennedy
136.Light in August, William Faulkner
137.Where the Wild Things Are, Maurice Sendak
138.Parade's End, Ford Madox Ford
139.Kane and Abel, Jeffrey Archer
140.Zuleika Dobson, Max Beerbohm

141.Main Street, Sinclair Lewis
142.Thousand Acres, Jane Smiley
143.Call it Sleep, Henry Roth
144.For Whom the Bell Tolls, E. Hemingway
145.Ellen Foster, Kaye Gibbons
146.The Alexandria Quartet, Lawrence Durrell
147.Cold Sassy Tree, Olive Ann Burns
148.A High Wind in Jamaica, Richard Hughes
149.The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro
150.The Godfather, Mario Puzo

Source: http://www.friendswood.lib.tx.us/bookinfo/frpubtop150.htm

Rainy Carpool

Q1 1991

My first job out of college was in Southern California. I was one of thousands of employees at this office and there was a charge to park your car on premises. The deal was that you either (1) park on premises and pay a monthly fee, (2) park off premises and walk in from a few city blocks away, (3) or you carpool. The employer’s carpool numbers were tracked by a local government agency. [This may be required of employers in Los Angeles County with more than a specific number of employees.] I was subsequently encouraged to do this and I did.

I was 23 years old and my carpool ‘buddy’ was a nice married woman of about 40 with two kids. Conversation was typically light and pleasant, but generally little more than polite chit chat implemented to avoid awkward silence.

One afternoon, as work let out, there was quite a healthy rain falling. I suggested to her that I dash the 200 feet to my vehicle, I drove that fateful day, and drive back to the building to pick her up. I thought it was gentlemanly to spare her exposure to the heavy rain.

Without waiting for her response, I ran, retrieved the vehicle, drove back to the building where we had been standing, and found no carpooler. I was confused?

As it turned out, she had run after me and trailed quite significantly. Age difference, physical fitness, shoe styles (my flat loafers versus her heels), every disadvantage was on display for my carpooler during this unintended foot race on this crummy wet day. She could not reach me before I got to the vehicle, unlocked, buckled in, started and drove away.

She was quite wet from the downpour and in poor spirits by the time she finally ran all the way back to the building where I was now parked looking around.

She was unhappy, understandably so, and expressed surprise that I did not hear her calling to me as I got to the car and drove away. I innocently pled ignorance. It was loud with the rain and the sound of my own wet running footsteps.


Sorry for your dampened state, carpooler. But it was no intentional sabotage.
-klem

A Good Friday Ocean Swim

It was years ago that a friend posed the idea of taking an ocean swim before work one day. We’ll call this catalyst McBride. Three others, including myself, thinking he was certainly bluffing, smilingly agreed. The other two we’ll call Cory and Wortendyke. But to our surprise, this was no bluff.

The date and time were set for Good Friday. Meet at the rendezvous point at 5:00 am. Silly enough were we to engage a workday morning ocean jump, but not so silly as to neglect wet suits. Wet suits were rented the day before on our lunch break.


April (Good Friday) 1995

It was the predawn pitch black of too early 5:00 am. Four guys coming from four different abodes all managed to meet up without a hitch. We transferred into one vehicle and carpooled to Zuma Beach, immediately adjacent to Malibu. In the still complete darkness we donned our wet suits in the parking lot and walked toward the Pacific Ocean. It was too dark yet to see the ocean, even though we were no more than 40 feet away.

It was a poor choice of mornings. The wind was blowing strongly which quickly numbed the exposed face and hands. The beach was pitch black, we simply walked towards the sounds of crashing waves.

Enjoying the feel of the cold sand between the toes we trekked toward the now loud crashing of the waves that remained yet unseen. The white water was finally visible at our ankles. The ocean’s surface beyond the froth of the tumbling waves looking like an endless supply of oil in all its impeccable blackness.

Into the water for 30 minutes of body surfing, frolic, and occasionally tackling each other. The cold wind over the ocean blowing into our hooded faces brought the onset of a sensation of headache, much like that of drinking one’s milkshake or Slurpee too fast and being encumbered with brain freeze.

The sun now rising, this silliness slowly drew to a close. The office goof balls walked out of the ocean and made our way back to the car slapping each other’s shoulders exorcising the balance of our giddy energy.

Exhilarated, we laughed at ourselves. The office loomed what with its neat piles of work on our desks. On the way out of the parking lot we blared Irish folk tunes. It was McBride’s doing.


A Good Friday to you. Whether or not you be taking an early pre-work ocean swim.
-klem

Passenger Plane. No Luggage.

A friend was telling me of a prior job he had. We’ll call him Garrod. He once had employment as a luggage slinger. He worked at an airport slinging it into departing aircraft and out of arriving. He shared with me an amusing anecdote.


Early 1990s

He was a luggage handler at the local airport. He wore blue jeans, an orange t-shirt, bright yellow vest, clear goggles, and ear plugs to protect his fragile ear innards from the jet engine noise. He drove one of those cool looking open-air carts across the tarmac.

On his last day of work, it was not scheduled to be his last, he was driving his cart fully loaded with luggage for two separate flights. The two planes had a scheduled takeoff 20 minutes apart, but the first wasn’t yet ready for luggage boarding as it was still unloading from the prior leg of its tour. No problem, this is fairly common. Proceeding to plane number two he commenced tossing the bags into the plane. Having completed the loading of the one airplane, he turned back to hit the other.

Returning to where the first plane had been he encountered empty tarmac. Reviewing the work order he saw that he was in the correct space. Something was amiss.

He asked a colleague of the plane’s whereabouts and was answered with an audible-free upraised pointed blue-gloved hand at an airplane quickly moving down the runway. The plane took off, the gloved hand returned to its resting position, colleague went back to his own task. The plane was now in its rapid ascent.

Feeling an inward crumpling sensation he hit the accelerator and drove the cart back to the loading station.

“Hey,” said his supervisor, “you’ve still got bags in that cart, toss those things into the appropriate bird.”

“That’s why I came back,” he responded. “The plane took off. That one wasn’t ready so I loaded the second plane first. I had enough time, I thought. I’m really sorry about this.”

“Sorry? There’s really a plane up there with no luggage? Oh boy, I bet they’ll be surprised at their fuel efficiency without luggage weight,” sounding pleased.

“Look, I’ll just go home,” my friend not wanting to be chewed out.

“What do you mean you’re going home,” supervisor confused.

“I screwed up . . . badly. I don’t want to cause any trouble for you. You don’t have to fire me, I’ll just quit,” he said modestly.

“Fire you? Don’t be a dolt. We’re union,” encouraged the supervisor.

“Thanks for the support, but I really think I’m done,” now walking away thinking of what line of work to engage next.


Luckily for me we ended up at the same place of work. You’re a treasure, Garrod.
-klem

Compiled Quotes

“Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful.” Samuel Johnson, writer [1709 - 1784]


“Creative minds have always been known to survive any kind of bad training.” Anna Freud, psychologist [1895 - 1982]


“Don’t let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.” John Wooden, basketball coach [1910]

Paper Airplanes

[Note to Mom Klem: I’m sorry you have to hear about this.]

[Note to the gentle reader: The following activity is not encouraged, endorsed, or suggested.]


Q4 1987

Starting my third year in college I had been accepted as a Mechanical Engineering (ME) major. The math, physics, and chemistry classes I took while my major was undeclared were manageable, but this, my first quarter as an ME major, was grueling. Seven weeks as an ME and I realized that this was not for me. My mind was made up to change majors again.

A good friend of mine and study partner, seeing that I had lately been lacking some zip, suggested a study break one evening. We’ll call him Jones. We went to the Physics building, a building that we were quite familiar from our prior two years. Most buildings on campus were either unlocked until very late into the night or not locked at all. The thinking perhaps was to leave the buildings unlocked so that students could commandeer a classroom and study. This access, however, also allowed for the possibility of less than studious behavior to be carried out.

On this night the two of us entered the building, obtained a stack of handouts, and proceeded to the seventh floor. There was a hallway window that opened onto a four foot wide ledge. With our stack of papers we stepped through the unscreened window and sat on the ledge with our legs dangling over. Dangling seven floors up.

From where we sat there was the Geology building 100 feet away and, otherwise, just a wide open courtyard. During the day this would be very busy with student pedestrians, skateboards, and a few folks walking their bicycles; a strict enforcing of bicycling only in the bike paths prevailed at UC Santa Barbara. Late at night this courtyard was largely blank of people.

We made paper airplanes with the absconded stack of handouts and launched one after the other. My airplanes sailed poorly compared to those of Jones Aviation. Fun at the time, being so high up, and behaving recklessly. For 30 minutes we launched, then returned to the safety of terra firma.


We did this twice without incident. Twenty years later I reflect back in horror at what could have been. One wrong step, horseplay, or anything unanticipated could easily have yielded death. Yet, I exist.
-klem

Brain Freeze

April 2004

Vacation. A driving trip to visit my brother and his family in Globe, Arizona.

Team Klem, with our boy of almost three years at the time, went for a walk. We wanted to supplement the walk with an ice cream or milk shake, if such wares could be located. Our confidence was high.

A bustling metropolis Globe is not, but we did locate a frozen yogurt merchant and bought two smoothies, chocolate for Wife Klem and dark cherry for me.

Receiving the first smoothie I passed it down to the boy for the first pulls off the straw. Passing the second to Wife Klem then paying for the purchase, I noticed the boy was flopped on the ground. He was on his knees with his forehead to the floor.

“Brain freeze,” we explained to him. “Too much cold stuff consumed too quickly.”

“Brain freeze,” he repeated.

I retrieved the guy’s smoothie, he regained his motor skills, and we exited the shop. Shortly after, he flopped down again, this time on the sidewalk. Same ailment. Once his brain caught up with the cold stuff, he got back up and we continued to walk. With some urging he engaged the smoothies again, albeit with some reservation and restraint.

The boy preferred Wife Klem’s chocolate smoothie.
-klem

He Quits!

April 1989

It was approaching summertime and classes would be letting out soon. I was in college and wanted a summer job to supplement the two classes I was going to take. A job that wouldn’t be too trying.

A friend was currently employed in the Periodicals Department of the UC Santa Barbara library. We’ll call him McGettigan the Elder. He introduced me to his supervisor and we hit it off.

“You’re hired, but you’ll still need to fill out an application,” she told me.

“Great. I look forward to starting this summer,” I said.

The thing is, she explained, was that they needed someone to start now, not this summer. So I buckled and started the next week.

How about that. I got strong-armed into a job by a nice 70 year old woman. I was a librarian for a year. Score an assist for McGettigan the Elder.


July 1990

It was now my turn for retribution, of sorts, as it pertains to employment, but in an awkwardly amusing scenario for the Elder’s kid brother. We’ll call him McGettigan the Younger.

The Younger had an internship which fell far shy of what had been advertised. He wanted out and requested that I quit his job for him. He handed me the phone number and outlined the reasons for his discontent.

Thinking he was bluffing, I picked up the phone and dialed the number. I was expecting the guy to grab it away and hang up once he saw I was going forward. Curiously, he allowed me to proceed.

So expectant was I, that I was surprised when his boss answered the phone. Trying to suppress laughter, and the significant smile that was on my face, I advised that I, as McGettigan the Younger, would not be returning to work. Resignation was unhappily accepted.

The Younger has since gone on to more fitting and fruitful employment.


The McGettigan boys and I remain in current correspondence. In the nearly 20 years since, we have not requested another’s help in terminating employment.
-klem

Buffalo Nickels

I was a budding numismatist in my early teens. The concept of coin collecting was introduced to my brothers and I by our dad, Pop Klem. He had been a collector in his younger years and broke out all his coins one afternoon after decades lying fallow. With his coins spread out on the floor we compared them to the valuation lists to see what coins were good, rare, and valuable.

Dad’s enthusiasm and knowledge on the subject was contagious. He handed a few segments of his collection to each of us and said they were ours if we wanted them. My two older brothers and I were smitten.

I was just a kid then, so big ticket coins were not going to be my focus. I decided on nickels and pennies, specifically the Jefferson nickel, in circulation since 1938, and the Lincoln penny, since 1909.

At this point in my adolescence the only income I knew was my allowance for cleaning the family pool. With these meager financial means coin collecting was going to have to be creative and be carried out at rock bottom expenses.

Pop had a smart idea. Get rolls of coins at the bank at face value. A roll of 50 pennies was 50 cents and a roll of 40 nickels was $2. Buy a roll of coins, open roll, take the coins you need or want, re-roll what you don’t need, return to bank, repeat process.


1978

Dad was going to the bank and asked if I wanted a few rolls of nickels. I confirmed with a please.

He returned, handed over the eagerly awaited booty and I commenced with the unrolling. I was immediately confused at the contents . . . and very pleased! “Hey, dad, look at this!”

Two rolls of nickels. 80 coins. I was expecting Jefferson nickels, but they were not. None of them. They were all Buffalo nickels! Buffalo nickels were minted from 1913 to 1938. They were not necessarily rare coins, although they’d been out of circulation for many years, but each was certainly worth more than a nickel. I filled out what I needed in my collection book and put the rest of the buffalo nickels in a jar. The Buffalos, I still have them.


A lingering afterthought, ‘I should have requested more rolls.’
-klem

Opossums

March 2009

It was late at night, nearly bedtime, and I’d been lying on the floor. Before I go down for the night, though, I’m in the habit of walking the backyard. You know, make sure nothing’s askew.

Sliding glass door was opened and I exited with my customary bolt of fake bravado and then stood in the middle of the lawn for some posturing. I then went about my routine. Walk the grass on the side of the house and then to the bushes along the perimeter wall. There’s almost nothing ever exciting or unusual out here. But tonight I got lucky.

My sense of smell is by far the best in the house. These other guys what with their little pug noses can smell only the most robust scents. Something was in the bushes. I went for it. After a very brief chase, it ended. Whatever it was I’d been chasing was now flopped out on the ground. I approached and got up very close. It smelt very interesting. It was wild, whatever it was. And then there was squeaking. I saw that there were a couple of little guys walking around on the ground right by the flopper.

[photo: the baby opossums]

I was getting some really great snufflings in, so much to smell here. When I’ve got a really good scent going, my nose runs profusely. It was getting sloppy, my nose. Dripping, if you’ll please pardon my being so graphic. I was then advised to walk away. I did.

The glass door opened and I reentered the house. My nose still dripping. But I didn’t care. I licked my whole black nose with my tongue.

“Good dog, Koobi,” he said to me.

Koobi. I don’t know why they call me that. My name’s Kira.
-Kira the dog


[I escort the dog out every night before we sign off. We had an opossum and her babies in the yard Saturday night. When I heard the commotion in the bushes I quickly snapped to attention. (Kira’d been nailed by a skunk three times, including one five day stretch where she’d been hit twice.) I don’t know if the mother opossum was injured or just scared, but it did play dead just as they are rumored to do. Three tiny babies were squeaking there on the ground. 15 minutes later the mother opossum and her babies were gone.

At Wife Klem’s suggestion, I offered the episode from the dog’s perspective. The boy just finished reading a book entitled Sheep by Valerie Hobbs, a narrative from the dog’s eyes, which served as the catalyst.]

The Dump Shot

Two college chums and I had ridiculously joked on several occasions of possessing phenomenal leaping ability combined with supreme basketball skills. We’ll call these chums Andrews and McGettigan the Elder. One scenario specifically involved a basketball game and the ability to leap well above the hoop. Rather than delivering a forceful slam dunk we’d coolly drop the ball from behind our buttocks and into the hoop for a score. This was referred to as the ‘Dump Shot’.


Spring 1989

I was at the UC Santa Barbara University Center between classes. This was a large open courtyard and on this day there was a presentation, the topic I have long since forgotten. The speaker, however, caught my interest. Jamaal ‘Silk’ Wilkes. Wilkes was a former NBA player for the Los Angeles Lakers from 1977 to 1985. A good player.

I sat down and ate a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, I was accustomed to packing said sandwich variety when going to campus.

Following the presentation he lingered and spoke to the students that approached. I considered his autograph with a specific Dump Shot reference. ‘He seems pretty easy going. I’ll ask,’ talking myself into action.

The crowd quickly dispersed one by one as autographs were issued.

“Hi, Mr. Wilkes. May I have an autograph, please,” I started.

“Sure. What would you like me to write,” asked the former professional basketballer.

“That was some dump shot,” I requested.

“Would you repeat that, please,” smiling. I did.

“Dump shot,” he questioned.

“Right,” I responded.

Laughing, he obliged.


The proof of this exchange was long ago lost when I discarded my old college notebooks. Bummer.
-klem

Biology Class, the Guest Speaker

My second year in college and my major was still undeclared. UC Santa Barbara Gauchos. I enjoyed the sciences yet I had not given biology a go. Not nearly as mathematical and formula driven as physics, chemistry, or mathematics, thought I’d try this out before I decide on a major.


Q4 1986

First three weeks of biology was going great, really enjoyed the material. Then we had a guest speaker one day. To my horror, the speaker’s topic was blood. I have little constitution for this type of discussion and I quickly came to feeling ill and light headed. My initial game plan was to simply not pay attention the entire lecture. But to no avail, I was having difficulty containing myself and there was still an hour to go. I knew there was no chance of seeing this through. No chance of a good ending. I felt a lapse from consciousness imminent.

Retreating into emergency mode, I reviewed the exit options. It was a lecture hall with only two exits, one in the rear and one in the front near the speaker’s riser. I was seated near the front. I decided on the quickest exit, but this entailed exiting across the speaker’s riser while in front of about 150 students. What a spectacle I’d be!

With time quickly becoming of the essence, I mustered up the strength to perform this embarrassing task. I grabbed my gear and skateboard, politely disturbed the other students in my aisle as I excused myself through the theater seating, walked across the riser, and walked actually behind the speaker. My disturbance caused only a minor hitch in the speaker’s discourse. I opened the door and out into freedom. But the ordeal was not yet over.

Once outside the lecture hall and in the hallway, my eyesight began to fail me. Everything became fuzzy and, eventually, I could see nothing. I took a few more steps with my eyeballs feeding me nothing more than the equivalent to the static on a television set which is getting no reception. Assessing that I would shortly pass out, I extended my arm and felt for a wall and sat on my skate board while my eyes still saw nothing.

Someone asked me to move so that they could open a door. In my incapacitated state I had unknowingly hunkered down against a door. What a dope I must have appeared. I scooted over two feet, eyeballs not yet functional.

After a few minutes my eyesight was restored, and I self diagnosed that I was no longer at risk of losing consciousness. I had collected enough of myself to skate back to my dorm room. I dropped off my notebook and skated to the dining commons where I ate lunch.


I passed that biology class. I attempted no further classes in this field for the balance of my collegiate days.
-klem

The Adventures of Jackie - A Monster Tea Party

This is the second story with the character based on my daughter. [Please see the entry dated Feb. 21 for the first ‘Adventures of Jackie’.]


The Adventures of Jackie - A Monster Tea Party


Jackie was asleep in her bed buried in a pile of her dolls, stuffed animals, and pillows peacefully dreaming of monsters. Not monsters like vampires, werewolves, and mummies. More like harmless, little fluffy creatures that like to cuddle, not so much the harming and destroying kind of monsters.

She awakened suddenly and sat up in bed. It was nighttime. She was only four years old and not yet astute at telling time, but she could see darkness out her window. She heard a faint squeaking and looked in that direction.

There by the door stood two furry little guys barely bigger than a doll. If standing next to Jackie they might be as tall as her belly button. One had green eyes and appeared to be of blue fur. The other with yellow eyes with red fur. They looked at Jackie and were not afraid. They smiled to her and motioned for her to get out of bed and follow them.

Smiling, she grabbed Dolly, her favorite doll, and got out of bed. Giggling she followed the monsters downstairs.

Kira, her good dog, was at the bottom of the stairs to greet Jackie and the two creatures. The dog did not seem surprised at all by the presence of the two extra beings. Kira and the two small monsters had apparently seen each other before and they got along agreeably.

The monsters led Jackie to the family room where ten more monsters were on the couch! Some sat politely waving to her and others were playfully hiding under a blanket. They would peak out from underneath, squeak, and then cover up. They were very colorful guys including green, yellow, purple, blue, orange, red, and a little one that was pink with white dots.

“Wow, you guys are pretty,” she exclaimed. “Who are you guys? What are you doing here,” she continued happy to have so many playmates.

One monster hopped down off the couch, ran to Jackie’s toy kitchen set in the family room and pointed to it while jumping up and down.

“You want to have a tea party with me,” Jackie asked.

Three more jumped off the couch and they all nodded their heads ‘Yes”.

She got her tea set out, complete with plastic food, from her kitchen and set up on the coffee table. Her dog came trotting around the corner with two more monsters on her back with one tugging at an ear. Kira, very tolerant of the mild abuse, deposited the monsters at the tea party and then lay down behind the couch.

Jackie hosted her new monster friends at the tea party and talked nonstop. She talked about how she liked spooky things, the cartoons she enjoyed, her friends at preschool, and how much she liked candy and ice cream. All the while the monsters held their tiny tea cups with their pinkies out and listened politely. They all squeaked along to her compelling monologue.

Two monsters, feeling playful, were jumping up and down on the couch. They bumped into each other and fell onto the coffee table knocking the tea set and plates to the ground with a loud clatter.

Jackie and the monsters heard both mommy and daddy upstairs get up out of bed and walk quickly to the stairs.

The monsters ran to the hallway ventilation screen and pulled it open at one corner where there was a loose screw. They waved and squeaked a smiling farewell to their tea party hostess. One by one they squeezed through the screen and into the walls where they lived.

“Jackie, what’s going on,” said daddy relieved to find that the noise was only his daughter having a tea party with her doll, Dolly. He started to pick up the tea cups and plates.

“Hi, mommy and daddy. I’m having a tea party with some monsters. Sorry about the noise, they knocked down the plates,” Jackie explained.

“It’s 3 o’clock in the morning. You and Dolly should be in bed. Come with me, I’ll tuck you both in,” mommy picking up her girl.

“Good night, Jackie. Stay in bed, please,” said mommy kissing her daughter and then Dolly after putting them both back in bed.

“Goodnight, mommy. I love you,” Jackie said, pleased with her late night adventure.

Mommy left the room and Jackie heard a squeak. She turned and in the dark she saw a pair of green and a pair of yellow eyes. Two of her monster friends cuddled up to Jackie and her dolls.

“Hi, guys,” whispered Jackie and then she giggled.

Daddy walked by Jackie‘s bedroom and heard her giggling in bed. “Good night, Boogie,” he said and kept walking.

“Good night, daddy. See you tomorrow,” she called back.

Daddy thought he heard a couple of squeaks. But he was too tired to investigate. Plus his pillow was calling him back to his sleepy slumber.


-klem
3/2009

Stop the Spending!

President Obama is in a tough spot.

(1) The country is under a crushing weight of ever increasing unemployment at over 8% across the country, the worst federal unemployment rate since 1983. Unemployment is at 10.5% in California, the worst since the 11% of 1982!

(2) The stock market is in the tank, although this seems to have leveled off. Let’s hope this is the trough with a gradual increase to follow.

(3) The financial markets are seemingly in chaos. Banks and lending institutions are being told to lend, but they’re afraid. They have money to lend but are fearful of what lending strictness to impose. Should they revert back to the safe old adage, ‘The only people who qualify are those who don’t need it.’ I guess that’s preferable to ‘Give it regardless of qualification because the borrower meets a federal guideline that is not tied to their capacity to pay back.’ The result of that 2nd looser adage of recent years clearly didn’t work.

(4) Then there’s the corporate bankruptcies and bail outs. Where’s all this money coming from? Also, are we at risk of the devaluation of the dollar with so much of it being printed and doled out?

For the sake of readability I’ll be brief. To sum up my feelings: I’m fed up! Close the Federal wallet!


I offer my Two Step fix:


I. No More Bail Outs.

Let the market forces fix the problems. There’s an obvious reason why not to bail out these failed companies. Strong well run companies taking over the assets of the losers will heal the economy. Yes, it’s going to be painful. The repercussions of unemployment and economic woes will be shorter if the market forces are allowed to work as opposed to artificially prolonging the pain and subsidizing the losers. The losers should emaciate away.

Example: Let’s say there are two companies competing in the same industry. Company One makes poor decisions compromising its financial strength and it goes bankrupt. Logic says, “ You screwed up. You’re not as good as Company Two. Sorry, you’re done.” But government says, “Sorry to hear of your misfortune. These are tough times in which we live. We’ll help you along.” Giving Company One bail out money is the wrong thing to do. Here’s why:

(1) Rewarding poor decisions or a poorly operating enterprise is destructive. They behaved foolishly or poorly and failed. Their reward for foolishness should not be an undeserving do-over. Rewarding bad behavior begets bad behavior. [Sounds like our welfare system.]

(2) The competing company, Company Two, that has been doing well should be in a position to now take over Company One’s clients and market share as a result of Company One’s failure. That would reward the properly run Company Two and make for a stronger industry as the well run company becomes the industry leader. But this proper sequence is disallowed by the bailouts. Upstanding Company Two is now denied this natural order of the capitalist system. This makes the economy weaker by denying the effects of the natural progression.

Sure, I know, the government’s doing more than just giving money on these bailouts There’s some ownership and guidelines being discussed as to possibly how the money is to be spent. Given the amount of dollars being put forth there is certainly an inability to properly monitor. I have no interest in bailout money flowing, being allegedly misused, and then a federal verbal beat down being issued on the same company that was previously deemed a worthy recipient. They already failed once with their own money. Are they supposed to be healed and smarter now that they’re using our money?


II. We, the tax payers, are paying for all the Federal spending. Close your wallet, Mr. President.

I’m a free market kind of guy, you have no doubt accurately detected. If a free market system runs afoul or screws up, does government involvement really sound like a fix? Look at government. What part or aspect of government itself do you think is well run and inspires you to think it can lead or furnish corporations with smart business advice? If the free market system is askew, let the market forces straighten it out. If illegal actions have taken place let the legal system prosecute and pass down jail time to the corporate offenders. Heck, blow out a few corporate knee caps while you’re at it. Send a message, not Billion dollar checks.

The continued generously robust federal borrowing and printing of money is a problem. With the spending and budget going nuts on a federal level we run the risk of the dollar’s devaluation. With that possibility, Americans must ponder do we save our money and hope its value hasn’t decreased by the time we finally access it? Or do we spend it now while it still has value?


Sure would be awesome if the government stopped spending and instead spent more time thinking. The fixes that are being implemented may take decades to fix.

Thanks for hearing me out.
-klem

The Book Crusher, a tale of parental pride

Our boy’s been on fire with his reading! On a daily basis he has mandatory reading that he does, plus he reads to his younger sister to earn his allowance [see blog entry January 17, 2009 for details]. Once his homework and reading is done each afternoon he’s clear to do what he wants. Lately, he’s been engaging fun reading on his free time!

For the past two weeks his fun reading has been ample starting with Amulet by Kazu Kibuishi. He liked it so much that he read it twice. Then he knocked back Stinkopedia by Megan McDonald, it’s based on the character in the book series entitled Stink. Yesterday evening our silly guy finished Bone by Jeff Smith and with a big smile he ran over and grabbed BC Mambo by Erik Craddock. With a one minute intermission between books he was back at it again. He’d been wanting to read Mambo but was advised to finish his current book before starting another. He complied, the good guy. He went to bed last night saying how next he’d read Jurassic Grampa by Kirk Scroggs.

Admittedly these are not novels. Some of these books are written in a comic book style. They have numerous box illustrations per page with conversation and thought balloons. These are all, however, boasting of more literary credibility than a comic book. These all have AR tests. [AR tests are taken by the kids after they read a book. The tests are to gauge their level of reading comprehension.] And besides, this is his fun reading. Heck, if the guy keeps crushing books like this with the same enthusiasm Wife Klem and I are happy to encourage his insatiable appetite.

Much credit goes to Wife Klem for the fella being a bibliophile. She’s devised a strong incentive plan to motivate his continued rapid consumption of these delightful tomes. There’s a chart on the refrigerator keeping track of his completed daily reading regiment. For every ten days of mandatory reading he gets to choose a book from the book store.


I applaud your work, Wife Klem. Oh, yes, and you too boy.
-klem

Compiled Quotes

“If we’re not supposed to eat animals then why are they made out of meat?” Emmett Cassidy, chum from high school [1967]


“Enjoy yourself. If you can’t enjoy yourself, enjoy somebody else.” Jack Schaefer, author [1907 - 1991]


“Being responsible sometimes means pissing people off.” Colin Powell, 4-star general [1937]

Spring!

A refreshing time of year. The flowers are blooming in full force, bees are buzzing, and butterflies are exiting their chrysalises and rejoining life anew. Reminds me of an anecdote.


Spring 2007

I have a niece. Beautiful nice little girl with an easy smile and quick laugh. She was four years old and wanted to interact with spring by means of watching a caterpillar turn into a butterfly. My sister-in-law, good mom that she is, was happy to oblige her daughter’s request.

They prepared a box to safely hold captive a caterpillar during its transformation period. They caught a wild caterpillar and delivered it to its new home fully equipped with generous servings of greens. A few sticks were arranged just so to properly host a chrysalis.

Caterpillar, obeying its internal clock, made its chrysalis after two weeks of eating and crawling around. For ten days it remained in the chrysalis in the pupa stage of life. The transformation having taken place it emerged a butterfly. My niece was very excited at the beautiful creature she was able to watch up close fluttering its wings and testing its new parts.

The day came to release the butterfly. A beautiful bright spring day. Mom and daughter went to the back yard for the butterfly’s release. It would fly out into the world from whence it once crawled along inch by inch.

The box was opened. The butterfly did not immediately bolt out. It took its time as if to say, “Hey, thanks for providing me with a safe peaceful home while I was so vulnerable for those few weeks. You guys are all right.”

With that it achieved lift off for the first time in the wild. In less than one minute of flight, a bird swooped down and snapped it up. All gone.

“What happened, mommy? What happened,” asked my confused niece.


Oh, well. It was a nice effort. But the circle of life prevails. Enjoy spring.
-klem

Wasps

[Note to the gentle reader: Carnage follows.]


June 1997

I had a morning work appointment that necessitated the traversing of 50 miles of freeway. Expecting a drive thick with traffic I got an early start. But traffic was surprisingly light and I made really terrific time.

Arriving more than 30 minutes early I decided to sit in a nearby park and read Sports Illustrated for a while. The magazine was employed daily for my lunch time eating / reading routine so I had it on hand.

While reading I observed a wasp hovering around my foot. Just hovering there. With the heel of my black leather wingtip shoe on the ground I lifted the front of my shoe an inch and pondered silently, ‘I wonder if I might be able to step on the guy.’

Before long, it flew underneath, I stomped, got it. ‘How curious,’ I thought. Returned to reading my magazine.

Then a spectacular thing transpired. Another wasp came, same place as if to observe the carcass. It hovered by my shoe, lift, underneath, stomp, wasp down. Then again. Again. Each one being successively crushed. During that one sitting, ten minutes, I managed seven corpses all in this same manner.

When there were finally a dozen or so hovering wasps and no longer relegating themselves to ground level, I opted to walk away. It wasn’t yet time for the appointment, but I felt my own safety was beginning to hover somewhat precariously.

-klem

A Football Lost in Europe

September 1995

A European vacation with seven chums. I brought a football as such a thing is imminently entertaining to huck back and forth. Plus with the seven of us the hucking opportunities should prove robust. Instead, it proved to be a source of sadness.

We had purchased Eurail passes allowing us to ride the train through several European countries at no additional cost above this one time purchase fee. Each traveler toted a single duffel bag stuffed with his gear. The football was an accessory shared amongst the group and carried out in the open. By football I mean, naturally, the American-style oval brown leather with the white laces along one seam rather than the round football kicked around for use in soccer. American football, not futbol.

During the train ride from Munich to Salzburg we had stowed our gear, including the ball, on the overhead racks. The time came to unload ourselves from the train, which we did, but neglected to also unload the football. The mood became temporarily somber at the realization of having lost that lovable symbol of our American heritage. This sadness was not for ourselves for having lost the ball, but sadness for the ball itself. Yes, the inanimate object.

The ball is accustomed to being lofted with a crisp over the shoulder arm motion coupled with a deft flick of the wrist. American boys learn the motion at a young age to create the spiral effect. It will be found by a European boy unfamiliar with the intended throwing and handling protocols of this odd leather ball; ‘odd’ as it will seem to this continent. The finder will likely be reduced to tossing the thing underhand to a friend in an effort to play with it like some rugby ball. Kicking it won’t suffice as its movements upon the ground will be far too erratic to induce fun on account of its oval shape. The vast bulk of European boys probably haven't the ingrained over the shoulder muscle coordination needed for the proper lofting technique simply because its an unusual motion for any game on that particular hemisphere. Much like the handling skills for a soccer ball are familiar to European youngsters yet foreign to so many American youths. Soccer is king in most parts of the world. The charm and entertainment of a football is lost here.

The ball had gone from ownership where an eager collection of guys would be delighted to engage it, to the unfortunate reality of ending up a mere oddity in someone’s awkward hands. A sad ending for a ball of such sporting potential.

-klem

The Incredibles

Kids can commonly become obsessive about their favorite movies. It can be annoying when they request the same video again and again. It can also be amusing in the reactions it brings about in them.

When the boy was two years old it was the animated movie Dinosaur (2000) that caught his attention. He couldn’t talk yet, so when he wanted to watch it he’d point to the tv and roar like a dinosaur. Then he discovered Toy Story (1995) starring the animated character Buzz Lightyear. He was just starting to talk, but was not yet flourishing in that regard. The guy couldn’t say his name so he’d ask to watch a ‘bideo’ and say that he wanted ‘Bee’, that’s what he called Buzz. As his speaking skills matured he was later able to muster up ‘Bud Lightyear’.

Our daughter’s favorites have been Monsters, Inc. (2001) (you know, she likes monsters), Candyland the movie, and anything with Hello Kitty. Monsters, Inc. is a good film, but the others, oh boy, the theme music’s enough to make me cringe. Too bad for the boy, though. When it’s her turn to choose the video with snack before bed he’s got little other recourse than to watch it or walk away.


2005

Our daughter was just a baby when the movie The Incredibles (2004) came out on DVD. The characters in the movie fit our family’s configuration just right what with Mr. Incredible (dad), Elastigirl (mom), Violet (older sister - we haven’t got one of these but the dog filled in), Dash (the boy), and Jack Jack (the baby). Our son assigned us all the corresponding name of the movie characters. The dog alternated between Violet and Frozone (another superhero from the film).

Pretty nice when my boy was calling me Mr. Incredible. Put a little boost in my step. After a week or two, though, he got bored and wanted to mix things up. He started calling me Bob Parr, Mr. Incredible’s street name.

Oh, well. What’re you gonna do?
-parr


[Postscript: The Incredibles and Toy Story are great films and both have standing amongst my Top 99 favorite movies. Honest.]

Picky Eaters. A Hopeful Update.

A food breakthrough? Our boy and girl ate chicken breast Saturday night!The kids are both picky eaters and getting them to engage new foods outside their strict self-imposed eating regiments is a struggle. [See post from January 22 for details.]

The kids were both invited to a birthday party on Sunday, one of our daughter’s classmates. We told the boy that he could go if he ate some chicken for dinner on Saturday night. He did not immediately discard the idea. This surprised me. So from here we went on the offensive.

“There’s going to be cake there and probably candy. If you eat the chicken you can go to the party and you can even have a soda,” the bid was made.

“How much do I have to eat,” putting his feelers out.

‘We got him,’ I thought to myself.

Food is often a negotiation with this guy, except for the items where he remains steadfast (i.e., hamburgers, tacos, burritos, beets). His frequent opening lines to negotiation: “How much do I have to eat?” or “What happens if I don’t eat it?” Open ended questions.

Our daughter, four years old, operates along different lines. She sees food in very clear black and white terms: “No.” “I don’t want to eat it.” “I don’t like that.” She doesn’t allow much room for counter bids.

But this Saturday at dinner she saw her brother complaining and realized that she had an opportunity to glow at his expense. Seeing him struggling with the idea of whether or not to eat the chicken she chimed in, “I love chicken, Momma, can I have some?” She could. She did.

The guy’s resolve weakened. Mild complaining, lots of coaxing, ranch dressing to dip, he held his nose to dim the taste receptors . . . mission accomplished! Hope we’ll be able to retain chicken breast as a regular.

The peer pressure provided by his baby sister helped put him over the edge. Victory was attained for this meal. I’m sure he’ll prove again to be a worthy foe at a meal very soon in the future.

Hopeful.
-klem

Free Vend Day

How much coffee, hot chocolate, and hot tea do you drink in a day? How much would you drink if it were free? How much would you jam down your gullet if it were free for nine hours? I found out my answer one day at work.


1994

My employer had numerous small ways to thank its employees. There was not always a specific employee, department or even task designated for which the company was saying thanks. There were periodically generic employee appreciation days.

One such appreciation day was Free Vend Day. Free vend courtesy of our employer! The vending machines that offered hot drinks was issuing its product at no charge for the whole day! This did not include the prepackaged items such as soda pop, milk, sandwiches, chips, and candy. Free vend was from the machines where the disposable cup drops down and you watch the selected beverage dispense from the machine filling said cup. Free all day long. Game on.

I was not one who ever engaged these machines. I’m not a coffee guy nor much of a tea guy. Hot chocolate, though, I’m good. But still, I just never made the purchase. But on free vend day I discovered the beverages to be absolutely delicious. At least the first several times I visited the free vending machines. Even late into the afternoon when it was no longer delicious due to overexposure I was helpless to cut off my patronage.

My cubicle neighbor and I were, and remain today, quite good chums. We’ll call him McBride. Every hour or so, “Hey, let’s go get a free vend,” he’d suggest. It wasn’t, ‘let’s go get a free coffee or hot chocolate’, but ‘a free vend.’ I offered no resistance.

I took down many free hot chocolates that day. I even tried a few coffees. By late afternoon the free vend had lost it’s excitement, but I couldn’t deny my buddy. Let’s go again.


Looking back it seems like a silly, yet smartly inexpensive, way to thank folks. Regular price was only $.50 per cup, I think. Regardless, I got my share of appreciation. Probably about four bucks worth.
-klem

Fisticuffs

[Note to the gentle reader: Graphic violence follows.]


I worked at a fast-food franchise in my youth. I was in high school at the time and the job furnished me with gas money for the stationwagon that I shared with my big brother and funds for entertainment activities. I rode my red moped with matching red helmet to work at this corner of Grandview and Glenoaks in Glendale, CA. A park with a nice baseball field was easily visible across the street from the restaurant.


1984

It was a Sunday afternoon and the restaurant had lost electricity. Heck, we can’t cook anything what with their computerized controls no longer operable. So we locked the doors and waited for the power to come back on. We waited and talked mostly. One guy was watching a ball game that was in progress across the street. There was a good turnout there. Then something exciting happened.

“Oh [expletive]! Look at this,” amusingly exclaimed my supervisor still looking out the window toward the ball field.

To our immature delight there were two guys at the park engaged in fisticuffs. One guy was clearly bettering the other. The champion would punch several times, knock down the other guy and walk away. The other would get up, charge the champion and offer a few floundering punches. Champion would deflect the floundered offerings, return fire, knock the guy down again, and walk away. ‘Ohh’ and ‘Oooh’ we’d vocalize with each blow.

Over the course of a few minutes, and the champion continually walking away, the physical challenge that started across the street at the park and was now right in front of our restaurant! We were watching the action from 15 feet away!

The champion, under assault again, offered one last punch delivering the other guy to the ground.

Champion looked at the two of us watching from inside the store. He shrugged his shoulders at us as if to say ‘What gives? He keeps coming back.’ Then he walked away. His shirt was filthy. Blood.

The other guy eventually picked himself up off the ground. He didn’t look at us. He walked in the opposite direction. His face was filthy. Blood.


On this particular day, my minimum wage was a steal.
-klem

Adventures of Tedesco - A Prehistoric Visitation

This is the second in what may become a series of adventures with the character based on my boy. [Please see the entry dated Feb. 15 for the first ‘Adventures of Tedesco’.] He’s my in-house fact checker when it comes to all things prehistoric. I read him the draft the other day. He liked it, but politely advised me that the mammal I used in the draft was in the wrong time period. After double checking I confirmed the veracity of his input. Exit the predecessor to the horse (Hyracotherium) of the Eocene epoch, enter Lesothosaurus of the Jurassic.


Adventures of Tedesco - A Prehistoric Visitation


It was a bright summer day. Two more months of no school! He’d be starting 3rd grade in the fall. Tedesco was a lolligagger during the school year trying to get him out of bed and downstairs for breakfast by 7:00. But now that there was no school he was regularly up by 6:15 downstairs and watching cartoons or a dinosaur related DVD before anyone else was even awake.

Today was Saturday. Picnic day. ‘After dad makes pancakes and mom has her hot tea with breakfast she’ll pack a cooler of tasty grub and we’ll get this show on the road,’ he thought to himself. Meanwhile he hunkered down on the couch watching his program while eating a bowl of cereal without milk.

Tedesco liked picnic day. The park was big and there weren’t usually many people. He really enjoyed the playgrounds and going for hikes in the park’s hills with his dog, Kira.

They arrived at the park and got a great stretch of grass near a good playground and trails leading into the hills. There was practically nobody else nearby so dad let the dog off leash. Tedesco and his sister, Jackie, ran immediately for the playground, slides, and swings. The dog followed at a leisurely trot. She was a good dog and was very protective of her babies, even though Tedesco was now bigger than Kira.

Before long the kids were called in for lunch. Tedesco, always the busy guy, was often impatient with the task of eating but he knew it was a bootless discussion to say he didn’t want to eat. He’d lately taken a new approach, ‘Eat the meal so I can get to something good.’ The ‘something good’ was usually dessert. But on picnic day it meant that he could return to playtime.

With no further adieu he knocked back his peanut butter no jelly sandwich, a cheese stick, yogurt, half a banana, and two juice boxes. Jackie, a consistently lackadaisical eater, was barely underway. His mom and dad hadn’t even started eating yet.

“I’m done. Can I go play,” Tedesco blared with peanut butter smeared on his cheek and a blotch of yogurt on his shirt.

“OK, Chief, but stay where we can see you, please,” offered his dad looking forward to his bratwurst on toasted bun with ketchup and sweet mustard.

Immediately bolting for the nearby trail he dashed off into the trees. Kira followed at a gallop tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.

They quickly went off trail and were deep in the trees and underbrush. Tedesco saw a pond. The water was very murky and the shoreline muddy. How tempting for a little guy. He saw a rock in the middle of the pond with a turtle on it. He also saw the No Trespassing sign. A sign, but heck, certainly a turtle is more important than the sign, he figured.

“Kira, let’s get that turtle,” saying to his dog thinking he could walk on the mud all the way there. But not so. His first step yielded a foot that sank up to his ankle.

“Oh, no. I’m busted,” he said out loud looking down at mud covering his shoe all the way to the bottom of his jeans. “Well, I’m already muddy, how much worse can it get. Come on, Kira,” proceeding toward the rock with no further restraint.

He took three large steps trying to reach the rock and ended up belly deep in mud, far deeper than he expected, and he was sinking. His dog had immediately followed with three large leaps and was now also submerged up to her neck and chest and she too was sinking. And they were sinking fast. Tedesco, really scared, called to his dog, “You’re a good dog, Kira.” Then yelled out for anybody who might hear, “Someone help us,” and he took a breathe before going under. Kira, with two barks, was also gone.


Feeling groggy, wet, and covered completely with mud he and his dog awakened on the muddy shore. This did not look familiar. The two sat down trying to gather their senses. Tedesco looked around trying to think what to do. Where were they?.

A dragonfly flew by. But it was a surprising 12-inches long!

“Freaky,” said Tedesco still too groggy to be scared. Continuing to look at the scenery he noticed a few things that were odd. There were no buildings, roads, cars, or people. Even the plants didn’t look right. There was no grass. There were no flowering plants. Something’s wrong here. “Kira, where are we,” starting to comprehend the depths of their troubles.

Kira had also gathered that something was very wrong. She stood up and started smelling. Taking wafts of the air and then the ground around her and then more snufflings of the warm breeze that had enveloped them. She bit at Tedesco’s muddy pants, gave a little tug, and let go. She hustled toward an outgrowth of shrubs, stopped, looked back at her Tedesco until he stood and followed, and then continued quickly into the bushes.

From their vantage point they could see out onto an open plain with only a few unusual trees and low lying plants. A large plant eating dinosaur had appeared almost a football field away! Stegosaurus! Easily identified by the plates along its back. It was a large lumbering dinosaur whose body was larger than a car and its tail extended even longer. There were a dozen or so plates that stood on its back perpendicularly to the ground. Its tail had four large spikes at the end. They were as long as drum sticks but thicker and very pointy. It was grazing on plants.

Tedesco had spent much time studying dinosaurs. He had numerous books and videos in his personal library plus he’d checked out all the dinosaur books from his local library, twice. He knew it was a plant eater and it did not worry him. But the lack of concern was fleeting.

From the other direction came an Allosaurus, a fierce meat eating dinosaur! The Allosaurus stood on two legs, looked like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, and was taller than a house! It roared horribly and showed off its large teeth that were as sharp and as long as steak knives. Through his diligent studies he recognized the Allosaurus by the three claws at the end of each arm, the T-Rex had only two. The Allosaurus was the predecessor to the T-Rex by many millions of years.

Tedesco knew his prehistoric timeline. Both these dinosaurs were alive 203 million to 135 million years ago. They’d been extinct for over 100 million years! How was he going to get home from the late Jurassic Period?

His senses had now returned as did a significant degree of fear. Not only was there a meat eating dinosaur on the front, Tedesco knew that he would be prey if it saw him.

With the appearance of the Allosaurus a number of other smaller plant eating creatures huddled into the bushes next to him and his dog. One animal he recognized was the Lesothosaurus, a three foot tall plant eater that looked like a lizard that walked and ran upright on two legs. Kira was too worried about the two large beasts ahead to give any attention to chasing these smaller animals.

The dinosaurs engaged in battle. The Stegosaurus with its back plates flared up colorfully in red to send a signal to the meat eater that it was not backing off. It waged war with its rear end facing the Allosaurus so that it could get the four spikes at the end of its tail near its adversary. It swung its tale and spikes fiercely back and forth.

The Allosaurus had seen this many times before. It was being patient, waiting for the opportunity when the Stegosaurs might be off balance and the Allosaurus would be able to run in past the spikes and chomp away at the ample flesh.

After a lengthy scuffle neither was gaining an advantage. They both backed away from each other to a safer distance, though neither retreated. It was just then that five Compsognathuses, meat and insect eating dinosaurs the size of chickens, charged the plants where Tedesco, Kira, and the other animals were trying to hide in silence.

All the animals quickly scattered. Only Tedesco and Kira remained. The size of a chicken, yes, but fierce like nothing they’d seen before. The Compsognathus was as quick as a striking snake and knew no fear when traveling in larger groups such as this, even in the face of two animals that were twice as large as they were.

Kira stepped in between her boy and the little meat eaters. There was growling and roaring from the commotion and the Allosaurus turned to look. Tedesco and Kira were now out away from the bushes and stood in the open. The Allosaurus charged and covered ground very quickly.

With the Compsognathuses on one side and the Allosaurus nearly upon them on the other Tedesco backed away in the only other direction available. Back into the water from whence they came. He then realized it wasn’t water so much as it was mud.

“Kira, come,” worried for his dog. He knew his dog wouldn’t back away if she thought Tedesco was in trouble, so he called again with a little force in his voice. “Kira, come!”

Keeping her eyes on the predators, large and small, she backed toward Tedesco who was knee deep. He saw a rock at the center of the pond and . . . was that a turtle on the rock?

As they backed into the mud the dinosaurs stood on the shore, not even touching it. Tedesco and Kira sank in deeper with each step but neither had any inclination to stop. With one final stretch Tedesco tried to reach the rock. He did! But he was slipping . . . and sinking. Kira was right there struggling to reach him. Tedesco clamored at the rock and reached up grabbing for anything to get a hold of, but the sinking was too much. He was still engulfed up to his chest and lost all energy. Hopeless, he sank. Kira was already gone. He took a deep breath and thought of his family.


The two woke up on the muddy shoreline in the shade. There was a No Trespassing sign. They were covered in another coat of mud. They stood up, recognizing immediately they had returned to Picnic Day. They both ran back to the picnic.

“I’m sorry I got my shoes dirty! I’m sorry I got my shoes dirty,” yelled Tedesco fifty feet away from his parents and running at a full sprint.

“Whoa, what happened to you guys? You’re not coming home in that condition,” said dad very unhappy at the prospect of trying to clean them both well enough to get them in the car.

“I missed you guys so much,” Tedesco blathered on not even bothering to wipe the mud from his face.

“You guys didn’t leave more than two minutes ago,” said dad who had not even taken his first bite of bratwurst.

“Hey, what’s that in your hand, you dirty animal,” said mommy to her mud-laden boy.

Noticing for the first time the very unusual turtle shell that he must have grabbed at the prehistoric pond. Holding it up in his hand it was only the shell. The animal inside was extinct 100 million years ago.

“Kira, stop it!,” yelled Jackie as her dog shook mud everywhere.


-klem
3/2009