Ghost of Thanksgiving Past

I saw a ghost today.

I was in line at Costco to buy my ritual Polish dog when I saw my father standing three places in front of me. My father has been dead for more than a decade.

I knew it was him instantly: the big belly hanging over his belt, the tangled mop of hair, the shuffling feet. He was wearing one of his solid blue dress shirts (tucked sloppily, as usual), dark blue trousers, and a pair of worn dress shoes. He looked the same, he moved the same, he even smiled the same.

For a few moments, I literally stopped breathing. I watched Dad move forward in line. He scratched his nose like always, itching it; I expected him to take out a hanky and blow. When he reached the front of the line, he smiled at the worker and made some inaudible joke. The worker laughed. Always the clown.

And then it occurred to me: this was not a ghost of my father, but a ghost of my uncle Norman. His voice was quiet, his manner shy. Still shocking, but less so than it might have been.

I could breathe again.

My father (Steve), my grandfather (Noah), and my uncle (Norman) in 1983.

It has been ten years since my father died, and about fifteen since my uncle Norman passed away. In that time, I have never seen a single person that reminded me of either of them. It’s easy to pick out strangers who remind me of friends or, especially, of acquaintances, but I never encounter strangers who remind me of family members. This is probably because I know family members so much better: it’s easy to spot little differences that reveal a stranger’s dissimilarity. This man, this ghost, did not possess dissimilarities. Everything about him indicated that he was a family member, some lost cousin or uncle.

I watched the ghost shuffle across to the soda fountain, then to the condiment dispensers. I watched him carry his food to a back table. “It’s your turn,” the lady behind me said, shattering my reverie. I’d forgotten all about my ritual Polish dog.

On the drive home, Robert Greenberg expounded upon Rimsky-Korsakov’s Russian Easter Overture, one of Dad’s favorite compositions. Again I sunk into a nostalgic reverie, remembering him, remembering the things he did, remembering Thanksgivings of long ago.

(From the archives: another remembrance of my father on Independence Day)

The Great Book Purge

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” — Kris

I’ve been quiet around here lately, but that’s a good thing. I’m tidying the nooks and crannies of my life. For example:

We have many bookcases with many shelves. To be precise, we have eighty-five bookshelves of about thirty inches each. That’s approximately 2550 inches of books, or about 213 feet. That’s a hell of a lot of books.

The recent change in my mental outlook has allowed me to realize that I don’t need to possess as many books as I once did. It used to be that I felt the urge to own any book that looked remotely interesting. No longer. Nowadays I’m more interested in purchasing high-quality copies of books that I already love or want to treasure. Girl With a Golden Earring? A low-quality book group selection that I certainly don’t need to keep. Moby Dick with woodcut illustrations? A keeper! Most books I can find at the public library.

Spurred by Live Simple, I’ve scoured our bookshelves in an attempt to free space. To do this, I deliberately shut off my sentimental faculties. “But that was a gift from Joel! But that was a book that I read when I first met Kris! But that was my favorite book when I was twelve!” So what? If it’s not a book that I want to re-read or to keep as reference then I set it aside to purge. Kris vetoed some of my choices, and I kept books that I knew would be difficult to replace (The Dune Encyclopedia is highly collectible and out of print), but to the extent that I could, I was ruthless in my culling. As a result I’ve purged hundreds of books. (This sounds impressive, but really it only freed about twelve shelves of space. I still have seventy-three shelves filled with books.)

The Great Book Purge is but one example of the recent changes in my life. There are others, and they’re all good. I am happy with this place, this new me that I’ve found.

Today was a big day at Rosings Park, a day we’ve awaited with much anticipation. It was the day of the New Range. Exactly at noon, we took receipt of a brand new Maytag Gemini Precision Touch 750 gas double-oven range. Good-bye, old range, with your unpredictable heating and igniters that didn’t work; hello, new range, with your continuous grates and two separate ovens!

After the range was installed, and I had tested it with a can of bean-with-bacon soup, I headed out to purchase a light fixture for the study. As you may recall, I’ve been coveting a specific art deco slipper-shade lamp from Rejuvenation.

Alas, dear light fixture, I want you NOW

I wasn’t able to fulfill my dream today, however; the lamp is a special-order. Dejected, I drove home and purged the encyclopedias.

Memories Are Like This

Sometimes my childhood memories aren’t really memories at all — they’re moods, or impressions. I don’t remember a specific time or place or event, but remember a feeling. I remember how it felt to go to Grandma’s house. I remember how it felt to visit the train station. I remember the glow from endless days of summer.

Mostly I do remember details, though these often form a confusing jumble of time, place, event, and emotion. I can’t be sure that the individual memories I have are correct: maybe I’ve recombined several memories, drawing on the location of one memory, combining it with the events of a second, adding the emotions of a third.

Memories are like this.

For example, when I was a boy, my family lived in a trailer house in the Oregon coutnryside. We were poor. We did not have a television (though I believe this was more of a philosophical choice than a financial one on the part of my parents). In the evening, my family read and listened to music.

My father was a big Neil Diamond fan. He loved ABBA. He often listened to Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits. (Thus it is no surprise that these are all favorites of mine now.) Mostly, he listened to classical music.

Though we didn’t have much, we did have a nice component stereo, including a silver receiver with big knobs, and a top-of-the-line turntable. I can remember the night Dad bought the stereo equipment from a small store in Beaverton. I can remember the record shop’s dimly lit rooms were filled with record bins. I can remember the Bee Gees strutting over the store’s speakers. I can remember heading home with the Star Wars soundtrack, a couple of Mannheim Steamroller albums, and a small collection of classical music.

I had no formal musical education (aside from two years of violin in fifth and sixth grade), but I learned a lot from listening to Dad’s classical records. He was passionate about them. I learned to love Beethoven’s sixth symphony (the Pastorale). I learned to love Bizet’s Carmen Suite and Grieg’s Peer Gynt. I learned to love Also Sprach Zarathustra. I learned to love Mozart and Liszt and Rimsky-Korsakov.

When I think of my childhood, my first thought is not of a particular time or place or event; it is a feeling, an emotion, a sense of peace. A vague, non-specific scene. I remember a cool autumn night — the early darkness — sitting in the trailer’s living room on a baroque floral couch (a couch that went with me to college). The wall-mounted kerosene sconces are lit. The dishwasher is humming. There is a fire in the wood stove. The birds are squawking in their cages, or perhaps sitting on the curtain rods. A small and stinky dog is curled next to Jeff on one end of the couch. I am on the other end, reading a book. We are listening to the Cosmos soundtrack: soaring strings, pulsing electronic beats, the haunting Bulgarian Shepherdess Song.

A vasty darkness surrounds the trailer, yet inside is a womb of warmth and light and music.

This is what I remember.

A previous entry, Twenty-Two Year Reflection, is related to this entry.

Sleep Apnea

Yesterday, I finally received the results from my sleep study. It’s confirmed: I have obstructive sleep apnea.

While sleeping, my airway becomes obstructed and I stop breathing from time-to-time. (How often? I’m not sure.) As a result, I get less oxygen than I need, and wake frequently in order to begin breathing again. This would explain why I am so damn tired all the time. It would explain a lot of things, actually, though I’m unwilling to assign blame for all my bad habits to apnea until I learn more about my condition.

The symptoms of sleep apnea include:

loud snoring
morning headaches
unrefreshing sleep
a dry mouth upon awakening
high blood pressure
overweight
irritability
change in personality
depression
difficulty concentrating
excessive perspiring during sleep
heartburn
reduced libido
insomnia
frequent nocturnal urination (nocturia)
restless sleep
nocturnal snorting, gasping, choking (may wake self up)
confusion upon awakening

I suffer from twelve of those seventeen symptoms. Some of them — unrefreshing sleep, irritability, depression, difficulty concentrating, perspiring while sleeping, insomnia — are severe, especially since last fall. The lack of motivation has been a particular problem lately. (I recently learned to counter the insomnia with melatonin.)

I know of three people (including Scott) who, upon learning they suffer from sleep apnea, have begun using a C-PAP machine, a device that gently forces additional oxygen into one’s lungs during sleep. All of them claim that this machine has changed their lives. “It’s as if I’d never actually slept before,” they say, “and now, suddenly, I’m completely refreshed. I’m a New Man.”

It would be nice to think that sleeping with a C-PAP machine will make me a New Man, too, but I remain skeptical. I’m also worried about the expense. (Though just about any expense would be worth it to be a New Man.) Too, I wonder if I mightn’t solve my apnea simply by continuing to lose weight. Who can tell?

I’m scheduled for a second sleep study next weekend, at which time I’ll actually be tested with a C-PAP machine. Perhaps I’ll emerge the next morning as a New Man.

Comments

On 08 July 2005 (12:26 PM),
Tiffany said:

Good luck, please keep us posted.

On 08 July 2005 (01:05 PM),
Clackablog said:

1. Had a palate reduction and uvuloplasty (tonsillectomy) at Kaiser when I was first diagnosed. In a word, DON’T. Didn’t solve it for long, surgery is never risk-free, and the side-effects are Not Pleasant.

2. Here’s an NPR story on vocal exercises which strengthen the palate muscles. No idea if they will help in your case.

3. If a CPAP is prescribed:
a) make sure to get one with a heated humidifer. Unhumidifed machines dry out your throat, and leave you very vulnerable to colds and flu.

b) Get a copy of the prescription letter from your doc, and tape that to the CPAP. You should never check your CPAP machine when flying, as you will never get enough reimbursement for it if the luggage is lost… so you carry it on board. Without the prescription copy, one of the Hitler Youth at airport security can take it away from you, or a snotty flight attendant can bar you from flying.

c) If you end up having to buy your own machine, or your health plan gives you broad discretion in selecting the dealer, the CPAP MAN over on the Dry Side in Kennewick, WA, has good prices, and a very broad range of gear. I bought a spare from him last year with use-it-or-lose-it health care funds. I use it for travel, as it will work on 12vDC from battery or a car (although cigarette lighter connections can be problematic as some sockets won’t give the needed current).

Bill

I was fortunate during my sophomore year in college to share a room in Willamette‘s off-campus apartments. I was even more fortunate that my roommate had managed to nab a corner flat on the top story.

Ken was only nominally my roommate. He actually lived on the third floor with his girlfriend, Caroline, in a small studio barely big enough for a single person. They packed the room with Ken’s synthesizer, Caroline’s clothes, and their shared books, furniture, and food. They lived cozy lives.

Ken stayed in our apartment only if he and Caroline had been fighting, and usually then for only half the night. (As you can imagine, I found this arrangement terribly convenient.)

During the spring semester, Ken “moved out”; that is to say he still lived with Caroline, but he gave the university some bogus address. I found a new roommate, Bill, and had to become accustomed to actually sharing living space again.

Bill and I both preferred morning classes. I know a lot of kids who, during their first year of college, schedule all their classes for the afternoon. I did that during the first semester of my freshman year, but found this was a Bad Idea. For me. I fell asleep in afternoon classes. The professor would be droning away about behavioral psychology or gender roles in society or the Baghavad-Gita while I waged a private little war with my leaden eyelids. Not fun. And not conducive to learning.

So I took morning classes. Ever after it was my goal to be done with classes by lunch. (Except I allowed myself one night class per term. I liked night classes.) Bill had a similar schedule.

We both liked to rise early, but we had different approaches to waking.

If Bill woke first, he’d play a tape of mellow music. (This was mere months before the dawn of the CD era; I owned four CDs but had nothing to play them with.) George Winston’s December was a favorite, or Cat Stevens, or James Taylor. He’d brew some tea or coffee, and when I wandered to the kitchen I’d find him sipping his drink, eating a fresh scone, reading Michel Foucalt, piano music tinkling softly in the background.

His whole approach to mornings was anathema to me.

If I woke first, I’d put in a tape of 80s dance music: Alphaville or Duran Duran or Depeche Mode. I’d crank the volume as much as I dared. When Bill made his way to the kitchen, he’d find me chugging a glass of orange juice, eating a couple of slices of bacon while reading a Stephen King novel. “Can we turn the music down?” he’d ask.

Our philosophies on evenings were just as different.

Bill managed The Bistro, the campus café. His idea of a great evening included boisterous conversation with friends, a bustle of activity, and lots of upbeat music. It was in the evening that he broke out REM, The Communards, and U2.

I wanted my evenings soft and restful. I wanted lullabies and classical music, a good book, and maybe a warm bath. I wanted to prepare for sleep.

I have many fond memories of Bill. I remember our early-term trip to Heliotrope, the local health food store. We stocked up on natural and organic food, most of which was never eaten (the stuff slowly turned foul in our cupboards). I remember the day he fixed curried chicken: he spent the entire day boiling and seasoning the meat, preparing a feast for friends. “What’s curry?” I asked him. “You’ll see,” he said. In the evening, I tried curry for the first time; it remains one of my favorite flavors. I remember the day he told me a deep, deep secret. This must have been difficult for him, and I’m afraid I was a bit too flip. (I already suspected the nature of the secret.)

Bill was a good guy, a deep thinker, an excellent human being. After college, he pursued a graduate degree in philosophy. We exchanged e-mail once, about ten years ago, at which time I mentioned that Kris and I felt morally obligated to have children (a story for another day). He responded that this kind of thinking was akin to Naziism. I’m sad that was our last communication.

I like Bill, and I wonder what’s become of him.

Comments

On 15 January 2005 (11:26 AM),
Amy Jo said:

Do share why you and Kris felt “morally obligated” to have children at one time . . . I have a difficult time imagining Kris feeling morally “obligated” to do anything, especially when it comes to having children. This isn’t to imply that Kris has no morals–quite the opposite. She strikes me as someone firmly rooted in her beliefs and not easily swayed by others with whom she disagrees.

On 17 January 2005 (08:13 AM),
J.D. said:

Our reasoning at the time — for good or ill — went something like this:

We are reasonably healthy, well-educated, psychologically stable, and wealthy. In theory, we can provide an excellent environment for a child to excel. Therefor, we ought to have children in order to balance the scales a little. It was a moral obligation.

Bill believed — perhaps correctly — that there was an unspoken, subliminal racism inherent in this philosophy. I don’t think it’s so much racism as a sort of classism, and I see that now. But I still think that, statistically speaking, has we brought a child into this world, they would have had an above-average chance to succeed. I look at many of our friends who are now having children and I think, “These kids will be the top kids in their classes at school.” Maybe it’s wrong of me to think this (and probably I’m completely wrong on my guess anyhow), but it’s still what I believe.

I’m not saying that a kid raised in poverty, in an unhealthy environment, by uneducated parents cannot succeed. I just think it’s more difficult for a child to do so.

On 17 January 2005 (03:01 PM),
Scott D said:

JD – last time I communicated with Bill, I learned he was an Assistant Professor of Philosophy at the University of Alabama in Huntsville. Don’t know if he is still there, but I do have that particular email address if you are interested.

BTW, our DVD “Stir it Up” is going to be reviewed in Parenting magazine in May. And you are not morally obligated to buy it :)

On 18 January 2005 (06:21 AM),
Joel said:

Dude, you guys had your own kitchen?! Salem really is the land of milk n’ honey.

On 18 January 2005 (07:32 AM),
J.D. said:

Well, Joel, you can find photos of our apartment, with kitchen, in this entry about the first Chicken Noodle Fest. Bill’s even in one of the pictures.

On 19 January 2005 (06:09 AM),
al said:

I (We) have decided to not have children, though I have no problem with people who do have them (up to 2). I believe it’s irresponsible once kids start outnumbering parents.

My wife and I are thinking of an activity group for adults w/o kids. We have the freedom that being childfree allows, so let’s travel, let’s go out late w/o babysitters, let’s have fun!

I Remember the Train

Excitement in the Roth-Gates household: Kris testified this morning at the inquest for the Serey-Perez shooting, which has been the big news story around Portland this past month. She was nervous, but thought things went well.

Kris’ sister, Tiffany, is in town for a few days. After I picked her up from the airport yesterday afternoon, we had some time to kill before picking Kris up from the Crime Lab, so Tiff let me stop at Future Dreams to look at comics. I found some old issues of Action Girl, and picked up the latest black-and-white compilations of Daredevil and Tomb of Dracula.

We killed the rest of the time by winding our way across Portland. At one point, we drove past Union Station, Portland’s train depot. “I’ve never been on a train,” Tiffany said. I told her that I made at least one trip when I was a boy. I’ve considered making others now that I’m adult, but I never remember that it’s an option. There’s something romantic about a train, you know?

Here are my train memories (and they’re few):

I’m young — maybe five or six or seven. My family is at Union Station in Portland to pick up a relative. Grandpa? Mom’s brother? There are people all about, but the place is not full. I don’t know it at the time, but the place feels old-fashioned. Looking back, I remember high ceilings and shiny floors and architecture of the twenties or thirties or forties. I ought to be fascinated with the trains, like Jeff is, but I’m fascinated by the comic books instead. There’s a rack of them at a newsstand, and I look through the ones I can reach.
I’m still young — am I in school yet? I’m down at Grandpa’s house. He’s babysitting me. We’re by ourselves. We drive to Canby and we stop at the train station where we wait for somebody to arrive. The Canby train station is nothing more than a platform, really, a wooden structure with a couple of benches and a ticket booth. I’m very excited to see the train.
I’m in first grade. All of us in Mrs. Onion’s class are participating in a patriotic Bicentennial pageant. We boys wear powdered wigs and march in circles singing “My Country ‘Tis of Thee”. We learn about George Washington and Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson. One day Dad takes us to see the Freedom Train. We park near the Oregon City Marina (why? — Mom, do you remember?) and wait to watch the train race by. Dad helps me place a penny on the track. After the train passes, I have a flattened piece of copper (or zinc, as the case may be) that I treasure for years.
I’m in second grade. Mrs. Vogeltanz is taking the class on a field trip to the State Capitol building in Salem. We don’t take the bus. We four blocks from Eccles school to the train platform. We get on the train and we ride to Salem. It’s very exciting, especially for the boys. We look out the windows, watch the fields go by. We disembark just a couple of blocks from the capitol. I don’t remember anything else about the field trip other than we got to ride the train home, too. A field trip on a train, not on a bus.

That’s it. I have four memories of the train. Yet, like the children I know now (especially Antonio), I romanticize the train. I always think to myself that someday I will ride it again. Kris and I have discussed taking the train to see a Mariners game, but we’ve always rejected the idea as too expensive. I’ve considered a train trip to Minneapolis to see Dana, but I’ve never explored the cost or time. What if we took a train trip to see Kris’ family?

I want to love the train, to have more memories of it, but I probably never will.

Comments

On 30 April 2004 (12:41 PM),
Lynn said:

There’s a new Amtrak station in Oregon City now. We (my mom, my niece and I) are thinking about going to Seattle for a girls’ weekend. I’ve heard the prices aren’t too bad, but haven’t checked into them yet. I considered a train ride to Ashland to the Shakespeare festival, but the schedules didn’t work out. That is a trip I would still like to take.

On 30 April 2004 (12:59 PM),
Mom (Sue) said:

Now I’ll have to be sure to watch the news tonight and read the newspaper coverage of the Perez trial tomorrow. Good going, Kris!

I’m not sure why you would have parked near the Oregon City marina to watch the Freedom Train go by, J.D., other than that it’s a place where the highway is really close to the train tracks and they’re safely and easily accessible.

Jeff is more likely to remember a train trip as I took him with me to Utah on one occasion via the train. He may have only been about 7 at the time, though. I’m thinking I may have taken Tony one other time and he would have been even younger then. I think you got left out, J.D. My apologies. :-) I don’t remember much more about family members going on trains other than a trip I made alone after my grandfather died, but then my aging grey matter sometimes doesn’t produce the appropriate memories.

On 30 April 2004 (01:02 PM),
pril said:

my dad always took me to TravelTown at Griffith Park (in LA) when i was small. What a blast that was. He loved trains and still does! One thing i remember was a trip to San Diego, we took the Amtrak. Dad got hold of the engineer and asked if he could see the inside of the cab. The guy said sure and let both of us come in and sit in his seat in the cab for a few minutes. I was thrilled.. my dad … i’m sure he probably nearly soiled himself with glee over that.

Down here in CB the local rail fan club is rebuiling Engine 104- a Baldwin 2-8-2 built in 192sth to run timber from Powers to Coos Bay. It sure is neat! I heard they are going to get it running instead of just doing the cosmetics, and i really do hope they get it running.

I love to stand down by the docks at the railyard and watch the trains. And now it’s even better, since the Lady Washington is docked there, too, for a couple of days (fully working replica of an 18th century barque like the ones that explored the coast here).

On 30 April 2004 (02:06 PM),
Dana said:

When I was at Willamette, I took the train back and forth from Boise a few times (because of the weirdness of the train schedules, I had to take a bus from Salem to Portland in order to avoid a 23 hour layover…). I eventually stopped when a train back after a Christmas break was 10 hours late because of snow in the Blues. From then until I got my own car I took the bus, which was far far far less comfortable, but never got stuck because of weather. Blech.

When I was sent to England for work (which was pretty fun, really) we took a train from Gatwick to London, swapped to the tube, then swapped back to another train which went from London to Leeds. Quite fun and comfortable, even if not always exactly on time…

More recently, at Christmas 2002, when I was last in the Pacific Northwest, I took the train from Seattle down to Portland. It was a fantastic trip for lots of reasons — they showed a movie, every seat had power outlets, and all kinds of keen things. I’ve heard they are putting (or perhaps already have put) wi-fi in the cars, too, and I know they have an option to bring a bicycle along.

This would be the same train JD and Kris would take to see a Mariner’s game, by the way…

To get here looks like a two-day trip by train. Leave late on a Friday, get in early on a Sunday, frex — you’d need a sleeping compartment or you’d have to sleep in your seat (which, granted, are fairly comfortable).

On 30 April 2004 (03:06 PM),
Jeff. said:

Mom said: Jeff is more likely to remember a train trip as I took him with me to Utah on one occasion via the train. He may have only been about 7 at the time, though.

Actually, I was 10 (I think I was in Utah for my 11th birthday). I know it had to be just after Raiders of the Lost Ark came out, because I remember thinking that Uncle Frank (with his stubly beard) looked just like Indiana Jones.

I main things I remember about the train ride was the long stretches of sparse vegetation through Central Oregon and Idaho.

I have a few other memories of trains:

-I remember going into the Canby Depot with Grandpa. I think it is the same memory JD has, but I distinctly remember the old, white, drinking fountains inside the depot; so I’m pretty sure I went inside.

-I remember being able to hear the train whistle blowing even though we were 5 miles away from the tracks.

-I remember being at the Oregon City Marina (South of Canemah) and us boys getting to close to the tracks as a train was passing by. Boy was dad ever mad at us (now I understand why).

On 30 April 2004 (04:41 PM),
Mom (Sue) said:

You were 10? I told you my rememberer wasn’t much good. :-/ Do you remember the fights between your Grandma McClellan and Aunt Jo that took place during that trip? That’s mostly what I remember about it, although we also took you to Saltair, a big amusement park near Salt Lake, as well as to the Salt Lake zoo. I remember you having a nice time (and I would have, too, if it hadn’t been for the fights) but you were a dream to take with me — good as gold.

On 30 April 2004 (04:55 PM),
Andrew Parker said:

I remember the Mrs. Vogeltanz field trip — barely — and recall that we had to write haikus about the trip. Very Canby, very 70s.

The tracks ran along the property line behind our rear pasture. My sister and a few other kids smashed countless pennies and at least one precious quarter back there, and of course we heard the soft rumble (and occasionally a whistle) late every night and early every morning…

Down here one of the old freight lines into San Jose has been revitalized into a high-tech commuter route, acerail.com. Geeks love it!

On 01 May 2004 (09:26 AM),
mac said:

This past Christmas, Pam and I took the train from Flagstaff, AZ to Los Angeles, CA to see our families. It was an overnight train, but we didn’t want to spring for the sleeper car because the seats were supposed to be “fairly comfortable.” It was the worst trip I’ve ever taken in my life. When we got on the train, they told us it was overbooked and that we’d have to wait in the lounge car until people got off at the next couple of stops. So Pam and I slept on the floor of the lounge car, amidst the old french fries and fast food wrappers, for about an hour and a half. When we got our 2 seats, Pam found hers totally uncomfortable and spent the remaining 8 hours on the floor between two rows of seats. I would take a train to Seattle, but never a longer trip unless I had a sleeper car.

On 01 May 2004 (02:49 PM),
Paul said:

Listened to Kris’ testimony last night on Oregonlive.com. Kris, you sounded very professional. I kind of chuckled though at the word “baggie”. It’s such a loaded word. The word baggie connotes illicit contents (of course there’s crack or pot in a “baggie”).

Geek Squad

Though I was fairly well integrated with my classmates in grade school, by the time I reached junior high I had gravitated toward a clique of geeks. Junior high is a time of cliques. I spent all of high school striving to transcend these cliques and never quite succeeded; all I did was alienate my existing friends. (Fortunately, college offered a fresh start.)

During my recent “clean and purge” binge, I took time to browse through my old yearbooks. I thought’d be fun to scan in some of the old photos. The birthday entry for Denise came of that, as did last week’s collection of my school pictures. I also scanned in pictures of all my geeky friends.

You might remember some of these goofballs from previous entries such as TAG Science (which was followed by a sequel of sorts, Cassie).

Our little clique comprised:

David Carlson
Dave and I were best friends from fifth to eighth grades. We lived close enough to do a lot of stuff together. And we did. We played D&D, we went hydrotubing, we argued the merits of comic books (I liked Marvel, he liked DC), we played computer games together on our VIC-20s. Later, we listened to music together. (The first time I heard Michael Jackson’s Thriller was in Dave’s room.) Dave and I had a falling out in high school. Or, more precisely, I underwent a drastic change, became (as Dave puts it) “a Bible-thumping sheep” and discarded old friends. For a time, we hated each other. We’ve patched things up over the last decade, though, and now we do geeky stuff again. Dave is a lawyer operating out of Salem. (For a time, he was the “youngest partner in the state”.) Dave’s a regular commenter here, though he thinks weblogs are an exercise in narcissism.

Andrew Parker
Andrew and I were in Mrs. Onion’s first grade class. We weren’t geeks then, of course; we were squirrely little munchkins, just like all the other boys. As we grew, I spent some time at his house. I remember seeing Star Wars with him once. I remember fishing for crawdads in his creek at one birthday party. I remember that his family owned a single-volume version of The Lord of the Rings made up to look like The Red Book of Westmarch. I remember that in the late seventies his father had, in the house, some sort of computer that could dial in with a modem to play a networked D&D game with wire-frame graphics. As we grew older, Andrew became less squirrely, more stoic. Still, his birthday parties were always fun. One year, Dave and I pitched together to buy Andrew the live Styx album, Caught in the Act. That was the year we all stayed up late watching Octopussy. Andrew left Canby for Lakeridge (or Lake Oswego?) after his sophomore year of high school. He went to Stanford for college and now brings the world lots of exciting gadgets as the VP for product development at The Sharper Image. Andrew comments here from time-to-time.

John Kern
Ah, John Kern. I haven’t seen John in twenty years. I always thought John and I were very similar — smart but prone to stupid things. He and I could be very silly together. John lived in Charbonneau, a wealthy community between Canby and Wilsonville. I loved to go over to his house because it was so enormous and beautiful. John didn’t go to Canby for high school; he went to LaSalle, and gradually the rest of us geeks lost touch with him. In junior high, he held two computer parties. We all brought our machines over to his house and stayed up all night doing geeky computer stuff. (Or at least as geeky as you could get with VIC-20s and Commodore 64s and TI-99/4As and, yes, even a Timex Sinclair 1000.) Once we played Pitfall to the wee hours of the morning. Another time (possibly the same time), we snuck into his parents’ bedroom to get their copy of Flashdance. We watched ,it hoping to find some dirty parts. There weren’t any. I think John eventually did something with ROTC, joined the Navy or Air Force. I’d love to see him again. He’s probably married, with five kids and a crazy life.

Darren Misner
I met Darren in fifth grade, drawn to him because he was interested in comic books. For a couple of years, we were pretty good friends. I spent a lot of time at his house playing D&D (and Villains and Vigilantes — or was it Champions?), leafing through his comic books (like Dave, he preferred DC), and playing on his TRS-80 (he had a great dinosaur game for it). We spent Halloween together our sixth grade year, trick-or-treating up and down his street. Nobody was home. We smashed a lot of pumpkins and took a lot of candy from dishes left on porches. Darren drew his own comic books and tried to sell them at the school store, but his only potential customers were his fellow geeks, and he usually gave us copies for free. I always liked Darren, but he was tentative, unsure of himself. He seems more confident as an adult. Like Dave, Darren attended Whitman College. He’s now the bookbuyer for Powell’s Beaverton.

Mitch Sherrard
Mitch was a strange duck, but I liked him a lot. (After all, he introduced me to Bloom County!) He didn’t always hang with the geeks, because he was kind of a loner. Mitch was hard-rocking, Stephen King-loving kind of geek. He liked D&D too (kind of a requirement to be a geek in the early eighties), but he was more interested in the life-and-times the game emulated. He liked the armor and the weapons and the castles more than the actual gameplay. (He’d be a perfect candidate for the SCA.) Because Mitch was somewhat different than the rest of us, he offered a unique perspective. He could argue a position that the rest of didn’t take. He was passionate. Mitch and I stayed friends throughout high school, and kept in touch a little bit after we graduated. He called me one Christmas break but I never returned his call. I’ve not heard from him since. I’ve been trying to track him down without much success. (Dave thinks he might have a connection that would lead us to Mitch, but, to be honest, I’m a little apprehensive.)

Jonathan McDowell
Jonathan was a kid that everybody loved. He was certainly a geek, and part of our group, but he was also cool enough to hang around with the regular kids. The teachers loved him because he didn’t goof around. Rather, he goofed around, but he knew when to stop. He was the funniest in our group (though John Kern was close). He was a great joke-teller and song-singer. One day in TAG Science he taught us to sing “My lover, he was a logger, there’s none like him today. If you’d poor whiskey on it, he’d eat a bail of hay.” We were supposed to be working on plant propagation, but we sang goofy songs instead. Though we all like him, Jonathan never did much with us outside of school. He was a member of a private church, and I don’t think he was allowed to mix with the riff-raff. I didn’t see much of Jonathan in high school, and have no idea what happened to him after graduation.

Jeremy Martin
Poor Jeremy Martin. He was most certainly part of our group; he was a geek, and in all of our classes. But just as the other kids picked on us, we picked on Jeremy. He carried his Dungeons and Dragons books with him to every class. He didn’t try to hide his geekiness. Most of us knew enough to try to pretend we weren’t geeky, even though everyone knew we were. Jeremy had no shame. So we picked on him as others picked on us. Still, I liked him. I went over to his house to play Runequest. He came over to my house to play our made-up version of life-sized D&D back in Grandpa’s woods. Jeremy was a good guy, but nobody was willing to give him a chance. That’s too bad. I don’t know what happened to him in high school and beyond. When Kris and I still lived in the apartment, just after moving to Canby, we ran into Jeremy and his mother one day. He was moving from a house in town to someplace in Portland. That’s the last I saw or heard of him.

The following were not geeks, but they deserve special mention:

Paul Carlile
Dave was my best friend for the four years beginning in fifth grade. Paul was my best friend for the following four years. Neither of us can remember how we met. Apparently we knew each other in junior high because he signed my yearbook. It wasn’t until our freshman year that we began to hang out together, and by our sophomore year, he was my best friend. (Tom Stewart was another best friend for Paul, I think.) Whereas I was staid and liked planning, Paul was all about spontaneity and fun. The combination worked well. We also had great arguments about life, the universe, and everything. Once, after a Newberg-Canby football game, we sat in the car and argued about the nature of God for more than an hour. (I was for God, he was against). By our senior years, we were so in-sync that once, while were driving down a country road, he began to tell me something and I said “I know” — “How do you even know what I was going to say?” he asked. We compared notes. I had known what he was going to say, though it was a completely unrelated to our previous conversation. Paul and I have kept in contact (with varying degrees of closeness) all our adult lives. It’s always great to get together with him. He still brings spontaneity to my well-ordered life. Paul’s a regular commenter around here.

Tamara Brunson
I never knew Tamara well. She was a sweet, good-natured girl who was in all of the advanced classes with us geeks. We had a teasing kind of acquaintance, each of us making fun of the other. She was important to me mainly because first Dave and then Paul had a crush on her. It was strange to go from one best friend to the other and to have both of them infatuated with Tamara. I didn’t keep in touch with Tamara after high school, but for a couple of years in the mid-nineties I’d bump into her at concerts and events around Canby. She was happily married, had adopted a child, and was running a Montessori school near Banks. She’s a good person, and I hope she’s doing well.

Tami Sale
While both Dave and Paul had a crush on Tamara Brunson, I had one on Tami Sale, my dentist’s daughter. Tami made my heart ache, and I’ll bet she never knew it. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was popular. And, best of all, she was nice to me. She didn’t treat me like dirt. We had a computer class together in eighth grade, and sometimes we’d collaborate on projects. I went to the eighth grade graduation dance — my first dance — solely because I knew she’d be there. I asked her to dance three times, and she said “yes” every time. We danced to “Open Arms” by Journey, and for the entire summer I melted whenever I heard that song. Poor Dave had to put up with me pining for Tami Sale all summer long. Then high school came along and I forgot all about Tami. I saw her in class, of course, but my crush had evaporated. Ironically, we were cast as husband and wife in the play our senior year (You Can’t Take With You — we were Ed and Essie Carmichael). We gave each other a perfunctory kiss during every performance. And I didn’t even care! Four years earlier I would have killed to give Tami a kiss. Such is the way of young love.

I think most of us in the geeky clique suffered terribly during our junior high years. (Maybe everyone does.) We were the bottom-feeders on the social ladder, and well aware of it. School was miserable, except when we were with each other. I wouldn’t trade those years of pain for anything now. They helped make me who I am today. I like myself now. To hell with all the popular kids!

Comments

On 16 April 2004 (08:59 AM),
Tiffany said:

My junior high was far more divided by race then by social class. The ‘Military Kids’ were far out numbers by all the race groups, so we stuck together. We had our cliques within the MKs, but we would stick up for each other then an outsider was picking on us. There were a lot of fights in my junior high. I still have a scar on right hand from one of those fights. I never started a fight, but I am still a little proud to say that I never lost one either.

Then in high school I hung out with the ‘New Wave’ group for the first 2 years, music and/or race made the cliques. Then I moved to what I can only describe as the ‘Smart Stoners’. The Start Stoners were in all of the advanced classes and did well in them, but spent most of the evening and weekends either drunk or stoned. I was not drunk or stoned with then, I just found that I loved these people. I could debate life with them far more then the New Wavers. The Smart Stoners were not racist like a lot of my high school classmates, however they were not to found of the police. I married one of these guys by the way.

But I got off of the subject; we had geeks in both junior and high school. In junior high they were included in the MKs, no questions asked. In high school, there were enough geeks that they had their own large clique. I knew many of them from the advanced classes, and they picked on each other far more then I ever saw non-geeks picking on them.

Growing up as a MK, I learned that things were disposable. Every move Mom got rid of clothes, toys, sometimes pets and we lost friends. Yes, you say that you will keep in tough, but it often does not work. I always find people that grew up in one place and still know the people they went to elementary school with fascinating, geeky or not.

On 16 April 2004 (09:07 AM),
Joel said:

The Geeks Rule the Earth.
Or so it would seem. Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, all those business types who ought to be going to jail but mostly aren’t; they all seem to be geeks.
I was/am definitely a geek, and junior high was definitely the low point of my life. I recently asked my geeky clique (self-dubbed The Institution) whether we were geeks in high school, and was surprised to hear them mostly deny it. “We weren’t geeks! Many of us were quite popular! Several of us earned athletic letters (in something other than debate and band), we generally had dates, we rarely received beatings… etc.” I’m fairly certain that many of them are in denial, but I’m not going to push the point.
Being a geek where I grew up, as I think we’ve discussed in this forum elsewhen, wasn’t as bad as in some other communities. We were kind of a Third Path between the Jocks and the Burnouts.

On 16 April 2004 (09:20 AM),
Dana said:

Tiffany: Growing up as a MK, I learned that things were disposable. Every move Mom got rid of clothes, toys, sometimes pets and we lost friends. Yes, you say that you will keep in tough, but it often does not work. I always find people that grew up in one place and still know the people they went to elementary school with fascinating, geeky or not.

I didn’t grow up in the military, and I expect I didn’t move as often, or to as foreign of places, as you did, but I learned this lesson, too.

My family moved when I was two from a rural cottage in farmland (with no neighbors) into a neighborhood filled with kids. When I was 9, the summer between third and fourth grade, we moved to Minnesota. In February of my 8th grade year, we moved to Nevada. Then, the summer between my Junior and Senior years of high school, we moved to Idaho.

I attended a total of three grade schools, two junior highs, and two high schools.

People with a strong place-history are fascinating to me — their world seems very foreign in an odd way. Every few years I was uprooted, put into uncomfortable situations, and forced to build a new life. Most of my extended family has a less mobile history (although generally more mobile than JD, 90% of whose life has passed in a 45 mile circle centered on Canby).

I often wonder what I’d be like if I’d grown up in only one town, with one group of schoolmates. I also wonder what JD would be like if he’d moved around like I did.

On 16 April 2004 (09:25 AM),
J.D. said:

Joel: Being a geek where I grew up wasn’t as bad as in some other communities.

Or times. We geeks who came before blazed a trail of acceptance for the geeks of future generations! We made it cool to talk about our thirtieth-level Paladins and to obsess about our video games. You reaped the benefit of all our hard work.

Or something.

Dana: generally more mobile than JD, 90% of whose life has passed in a 45 mile circle centered on Canby

Make that 100% of my life in a 20-mile radius centered on, say, Woodburn. And my family (grandparents, father) have spent 95% of the last 100 years in this same circle. Spooky, huh?

On 16 April 2004 (09:26 AM),
Denise said:

Jr. High is Hell on Earth, or at least it was for me. 8th Grade was the worst for me…well, that is if you overlook that bad perm I had to live with in 7th Grade.

Ok – Jr. High all together was completely horrible and left some deep self-esteem wounds for quite some time.

You are very brave for sharing those pictures…I would NEVER share the bad perm picture!

On 16 April 2004 (09:41 AM),
Joel said:

Dana said: “I often wonder what I’d be like if I’d grown up in only one town, with one group of schoolmates. I also wonder what JD would be like if he’d moved around like I did.”
Perhaps you’d be married, settled down in the family business, while JD would currently be undergoing procedures to change his gender?
It’s a big deal, this moving around business. A friend of mine moved around a lot as a kid, and he always seemed kind of skinny and undernourished. It was generally understood that he was constantly rationing his food against some upcoming journey. He’ll bury us all, that skinny guy.

On 16 April 2004 (09:45 AM),
Dana said:

Joel: Perhaps you’d be married, settled down in the family business, while JD would currently be undergoing procedures to change his gender?

Somehow I doubt it, Joel.

Although, I do have to say that I think JD would pass fairly well as a woman. He’s rounded as opposed to angular, and his voice isn’t particularly deep.

Plus, there’s all that musical theater he’s into… =)

Really, though, it’d never happen — he’s too lazy to do all the work necessary to pull it off…

On 16 April 2004 (09:47 AM),
Joel said:

[laughs with delight]

On 16 April 2004 (09:48 AM),
J.D. said:

Dana: It’d never happen — he’s too lazy to do all the work necessary to pull it off

I don’t want to pull it off: I love my penis.

(Laugh! — it’s funny.)

On 16 April 2004 (09:52 AM),
Denise said:

Your penis is funny, do tell!

On 16 April 2004 (09:57 AM),
Dana said:

Groan

Yes, yes — funny penis. Of course, looks aren’t everything. (rimshot)

Seriously, though, I can’t see JD putting in enough work on a regular basis to be presentable as a woman. The only way would be if it turned into his obsession du jour, like making audiotapes and cross-referenced summaries of Trek episodes. It’d last a year or two, then he’d drop it and drift off to something else.

I just can’t see it. It might be amusing for Halloween, though.

On 16 April 2004 (09:58 AM),
J.D. said:

Argh!

Another one of my geek talents was to always say things in just the wrong way, so that they could be interpreted in a way other than I had intended. I was always saying self-depricating things unintentionally.

John Kern had this talent, too.

Otherwhen…

Tony just came into the office. “My GOD, you were a geek,” he said.

“Of course I was,” I said. “Don’t you remember?”

“No. I was too little. To me you were just a big brother. But looking back, you and your friends were geeks. No wonder you love that show [Freaks and Geeks].”

Ah, the blissful ignorance of youth.

On 16 April 2004 (10:01 AM),
Dana said:

Tony: My GOD, you were a geek

Were a geek, Kemosabe? How about IS a geek?

On 16 April 2004 (11:57 AM),
Lynn said:

Funny how other people often see you differently than you saw yourself. Tony didn’t necessarily think you were a geek, but you knew you were/are. heh.
I don’t think I was a geek. I didn’t have geeky interests. But I didn’t consider myself terribly popular either. I had friends in the popular crowd, but I didn’t always feel a part of that clique.
Junior High was fun for me. Lots of changes: new friends from Beavercreek, starting to wear make-up, ears pierced, etc. Freshman and Sophomore year were extremely difficult for me, emotionally. This was a time in which I made a transition from one group of friends to another and not by choice. Let’s just say girls can be cruel.
And…I’m with Denise, my 7th grade picture was heinous. As was 8th grade. Yikes.

On 16 April 2004 (01:33 PM),
Amanda said:

I don’t like looking at any pictures of myself from about ages 13-17. Frightening.

On 16 April 2004 (01:50 PM),
Dave said:

Well this is a little bit of a flash from the past. As I read through JD’s entry I was quite amused by the memories (good and bad) that it brought back.

As for what I’ll now call “The Brunson Affair” (or lack thereof, actually), let’s just say that it was a very dark period for me in which I managed to mete out more wrong than right and that a very nice girl handled my unwanted attention with a remarkable amount of maturity and grace. Much more than was deserved, I should think.

For the record, I’m not sure that it would be an appropriate characterization, however, to say that JD and I “hated each other”. Certainly I can’t think of any reason why JD would have hated me (though I’m open to correction on this. Highschool was a time I’d be much in favor of forgetting). For my part, I must admit that I was very angry with JD. After all, someone who was my best friend for many years simply got up one morning and made the decision that he wasn’t going to associate with or talk to me anymore. Lest you think I’m subjecting this to a certain amount of hyperbole, that’s literally the way it was. For no reason that I could ascertain, one day JD just simply stopped acknowledging my existence. No conversation, no returning telephone calls, wouldn’t even look at me in the hallway at school.

That was a long time ago, but truth be told, that rift mars our relationship to this day. We both know this, but it’s not something that we’ll ever talk about, nor do we need to. For my part I think I understand (now) his reasons for doing what he did, although I still believe that things should’ve been handled much differently and with a greater degree of external awareness.

Maybe I’m just bitter that I was dumped for the attractive, Christian kids. C’est la vie By college I had mostly forgotten about it and it wasn’t until law school when I saw JD on the Willamette campus one day that I gave it any additional thought. Fortunately the passage of years has dulled the issue from both ends.

But damn, JD. Were you and I in a contest to see who could get the bigger,geekier glasses or what?

On 16 April 2004 (02:27 PM),
Dana said:

Sorry Dave, but I think you win that contest…

I should try and dig up some old pictures of me during this period. I hate mine probably even more than Denise, Lynn, and Amanda — enough that I’m not sure I have any.

My glasses were wire rim, with glass ‘photogrey’ lenses (they’d go dark in sunlight, and they weighed about three pounds because I’m practically blind).

On 16 April 2004 (02:47 PM),
Eila said:

A few comments: one: don’t you people have jobs!!!! This is jealousy speaking; on an ordinary day, I would not even have time to read J.D.’s prose
two: I remember vividly one particular outfit I wore proudly in the eighth grade (it did not necessarily make me a geek, but it was unfortunate, nonetheless) white shorts with a blue stripe down each side, a navy tee shirt, tucked in, blue knee socks and the first pair of Nikes I ever had. I looked spectacular–I was certain the outfit would attract the attention of a certain someone.

On 16 April 2004 (02:59 PM),
Dana said:

Eila: one: don’t you people have jobs!

Hi, Eila!

Speaking only for myself, yes. Yes, I do have a job. But it’s to sit at a computer and type for 8 hours a day. It’s pretty easy to have a browser window open and spend spare moments reading or typing. And I type fast ’cause of all the practice.

white shorts with a blue stripe down each side, a navy tee shirt, tucked in, blue knee socks and the first pair of Nikes I ever had.

Stylin’! =)

One of the advantages(?) of repressing your sexuality during your teen years is that you kind of don’t have any embarrasing crushes to talk about. I mean, I’m pretty sure I understand why I was so attached to my friend Todd, now, but I can’t say that I ever dressed to impress him.

Sigh.

On 16 April 2004 (03:05 PM),
Dana said:

Ah, yes — I should have posted this earlier. It’s a local Minneapolis tech support company. Their company vehicles are very distinctive. They used to be even better — they had random older cars, but all with that two tone paint job and the logo. Now they all seem to be bugs.

On 16 April 2004 (05:25 PM),
nate said:

My junior high years were incredibly painless, as I spent them within the comfortable walls of a private school. Funny; looking back, we geeks outnumbered/outclassed the athlete types (you don’t get many of ’em at a private that doesn’t even offer P.E.), and generally assumed that being athletic was more loserish than our nerdiness (how nerdy were we? Playing the Star Trek CCG until 2 AM, that’s how!). I still keep in touch with a handful of people from that school, and count one of them as my best friend.

Also, I benefit from passing my junior high years during the late 90’s, when geek went mainstream. Not so painful to be a geek when everywhere you looked was another millionaire dot-comer (obviously this was before the bubble burst).

You might think that my subsequent transition back into public school come high school has difficult, but that wasn’t too bad either. I had a good idea what I was interested in (journalism), and my years of private schooling allowed my placement into a number of more advanced classes. That gave me an in with the upperclassmen who I continue to be friends with to this day, even though most of them graduated from HS last year, while I finish up my senior year.

On 17 April 2004 (12:03 AM),
Andrew Parker said:

Your memory fails, John: I had Mr. Schultz for first grade. Didn’t you have a crush on his daughter, or was that someone else?

Dad worked for Control Data Corp for those several years that we enjoyed the free “watts” line to the mainframe in Minneapolis so we could play at all of those crazy simulations while other kids pined for an Atari 2600. Pre-teen geek bliss.

The last time I saw Jon McD was the summer after my frosh year at college. He was driving a lowered pink Beetle that he’d recently painted neon pink and was dating a 28-year-old woman; not exactly how I’d imagined he’d drive off into the sunset, but he always had a unique flair…

On 21 April 2004 (11:18 AM),
D. Misner said:

I have to say it was bit unsettling to be sent a link to this by someone I know. Obliterate that little moron in a V-neck velour sweater now. Nonetheless . . .

To be honest I have very little fond memories of any of these times, but then again I’ve always considered “nostalgia” a disease of the mind. I won’t overturn any rocks here, exposing the slugs and pill bugs underneath, but the character sketches above are a bit inaccurate and saccharine, the haze of time placing a veil over the jagged edges. Of course, the “offenses” that drove me nuts then are understandable now that I can see beyond myself — everybody had their own package of problems. If I have any regrets, it’s probably being cruel to Dave our first year at college. Unfortunately, Dave suffered due to me attempting to rebuild who I was and he represented in many respects what I wanted to forget: Canby, Oregon and the old patterns I had fallen into my first year at college. My apologies, Dave. Really, I’m not that bastard anymore.

On 21 April 2004 (11:41 AM),
J.D. said:

Andrew said: Your memory fails, John. I had Mr. Schultz for first grade.

Darren said: The character sketches above are a bit inaccurate and saccharine, the haze of time placing a veil over the jagged edges.

Both of my geeks-in-arms are correct.

My memory does fail. But I hope that in all the essential details, these character sketches are correct.

Darren’s correct, too, that the character sketches are “a bit inaccurate and saccharine”. The inaccuracies are a fault of my memory, of course, not through willful misrepresentation. As I age, I find that memories of my childhood have taken to hiding in dark corners of my mind, to be discovered when rooting for unrelated things. These memories have frayed, so that I can see the basic form, but not always all the details.

As for the saccharine nature of my character sketches: I’m guilty as charged. Mostly, I have fond memories of this group of geeks. Most of my memories are “sweet” in nature. And those that aren’t, well, I’ve learned through trial and error that this is not the forum for sharing such accounts.

Being a geek was rough. No question. I was suicidal for a time because of it. But I’m happy to have persevered, and now it’s the good memories I try to preserve. I’m sad that other — Dave and Darren, for example — have fewer good memories to cling to. I only hope their adult lives haved proved more rewarding and fulfilling than their childhoods.

Dave said: Someone who was my best friend for many years simply got up one morning and made the decision that he wasn’t going to associate with or talk to me anymore.

Dave, I can see how you might perceive this to be the case, but I don’t remember it that way. (And we’ve already established the problems with my memory.)

I remember the rift as more of a gradual thing. Freshman year was a rough and trying time. We were leaving the Mormon church. I was being picked on by bullies. I had problems with low self-esteem and suicidal tendencies. I had few classes with any of my old, geeky friends. There was a slew of things marring my psyche on a day-to-day basis.

When my family ended up at Zion, I felt envigorated by religious fervor, as you’re well aware. I became obsessed with my new life. I never consciously cast off any of my old friends, though in retrospect I can see that might have seemed the case.

From my side, Dave seemed to grow cantankerous and short-tempered. I felt he didn’t want me for a friend anymore. Hearing his side, I can see that’s because he felt the same thing. We weren’t communicating.

But he’s right: the rift does mar our relationship to this day, and we have side-stepped it, and we have learned to live around it. (Except for this weblog entry, I guess.)

For myself, I’m grateful that the passage of years has allowed Dave and me to become friends again.

On 21 April 2004 (02:30 PM),
Dave said:

Unfortunately for me, at the time JD describes there were moments in which I was cantankerous and short-tempered. Find a 14 year old who isn’t. Fortunately for JD (and me) neither one of us are 14 (thank God).

Darren- good to hear from you again. If it comes as any consolation, I’ve never thought that you treated me especially poorly when we were in college. I full well understood (and sympathized with) your desire to leave behind highschool and it’s attendant nightmarish associations. Frankly, I thought you were just a conflicted guy trying to find himself. I’m glad you succeeded.

On 21 April 2004 (06:00 PM),
Denise said:

Ok – and what does this say about me? Skinny Grasshopper that got dumped by one of the founding members of the geek squad?

And just wanted to add – everyone does things or says things in their youth that they regret. I got hurt by people, and I’m sure I hurt some people myself. Add the hurt to the inability to express true feelings when you are an adolescent, and it is a recipe for misunderstood rifts.

On 22 April 2004 (07:35 AM),
Dave said:

Denise- Don’t feel too bad about getting dumped by JD. He dumped me too and I wasn’t even going out with him!

On 22 April 2004 (07:38 AM),
J.D. said:

What can I say? I was an idiot in both cases…

On 22 April 2004 (08:47 AM),
Dave said:

Well, at least I could’ve gotten a kiss or something out of it. Geesh!

On 22 April 2004 (09:38 AM),
Dana said:

Now there’s an image. =) If you two do kiss and make up, I sure hope there’s photographic proof!

Ebony and Ivory

On our drive home from Yakima, we were each trying to remember the first rock concert we attended. That, coupled with yesterday’s entry, has me thinking about the first record albums I ever owned.

I think my first record album was a Christmas present from my parents: Paul McCartney’s Tug of War, which featured “Ebony and Ivory” and “Take it Away”. (My favorite song from the album was “Wanderlust” — oh, how I loved that song. I should download it.) That same Christmas, Jeff got Men at Work’s first album, Business as Usual (with “Who Can it Be Now?” and “Down Under”). The very first album Jeff and I bought (I think it was actually with his money) was Asia’s eponymous debut. From there the floodgates opened. I joined a record club, and soon we had all the latest from Journey, Styx, Stevie Nicks, Saga, Loverboy, and Duran Duran. Semi-regular trips to the Fred Meyer in Oregon City yielded a bountiful harvest of 45s, all of which I still own.

I can also remember my first CDs. In the fall of 1988, I joined a CD club before I even owned a CD player. My first four CDs were U2’s The Unforgettable Fire, Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, a Kinks greatest hits collection (which appears to be no longer available), and a fourth CD I’ve forgotten (possibly a compilation of Big Band music).

Can you remember your first album(s)?

Tammy entitled one of her recent entries “flotch”, which I found rather amusing. Flotch is a word that Paul and I invented early in high school. (Perhaps he can remember the exact genesis of the word; I cannot.) I seem to recall that we were just dinking around, making up words, and one of us came up with flotch. It came to be a catch-all word, and we’d use it in various parts of speech: “Get the flotch out of here!” “That movie was flotchy.” “I flotched up my test.” “I had a bit of flotch for lunch.” With time, I’ve come to use the word in the same way that others might use the word “stuff”. To me, flotch is just a random collection of things. Belly-button lint is a great example of flotch. I bring this up because a google search reveals a bastardization of the word flotch that is completely inappropriate. And gross.

Comments

On 05 February 2004 (09:14 AM),
Amanda said:

The first cassette I ever bought was “Faith” by George Michael (shut up!).

The first CDs I bought (a dual purchase) were U2’s “Achtung Baby” and “Chronicles” by Rush.

Good times.

On 05 February 2004 (09:46 AM),
Tammy said:

Too funny. I must have gotten the word from you somewhere along the line.Hmmm. Wouldn’t it be something if your little homespun word caught on in the blogging world? You could become famous! (Not that it will happen from my piddly little weblog) :)

On 05 February 2004 (10:56 AM),
J.D. said:

Nick says that his first albums were: Queen’s “A Night at the Opera”, an album by the Boston Pops, and an album by that piano sensation, Ferrante and Teicher. He says that after those three albums, it was a long time before he bought any others.

Nick never posts comments. He just walks over to my office to tell me them in person.

On 05 February 2004 (12:05 PM),
Aimee said:

Just a stumbled on a thought that Tammy’s comment inspired: Has the invention of a word ever made anyone famous? I’m not talking about proper nouns here; just regular ol’ verbs, adverbs, adjectives, and the like … What say you?

On 05 February 2004 (12:29 PM),
Paul said:

I don’t recall the day that “flotch” became a part of our high school lexicon. It was so appropriate , considering our environment, that the word was used often. In my world, the word just appeared one day to explain the amalgamation of culture around us.

The first record that I bought, with my parent’s money, was Michael Jackson’s Thriller. However, it was for my sister, I kinder act that I probably haven’t duplicated since, so I don’t count that as MY first record.

My first purchase was Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s Welcome To The Pleasuredome. That was a work of art! FGtH were produced to such a level that I was hooked by everything about them. This was a folded album cover, with a painting of strange animal figures engagaged in numerous sexual positions. My mother found the whole album to be nearly pornographic, especially after she listened to the song Ballad of 32. Having more discipline than JD with my money, I didn’t buy anything from the catalog of FGtH products that was inserted in the sleeves of the album. Boy howdy did I ever want the whole lot of goods! This was all topped off by going to their concert. That was my first concert personally and my first of many with JD. Didn’t we camp out for tickets and end up in row 20 or something? We could see them lip-syncing from our seats!! I loved every Frankie moment of it. Who opened? OMD? If that were true, I may be reliving one of the greatest days of my teenage years.

On 05 February 2004 (01:37 PM),
Amy Jo said:

This is embarrassing to admit, but my first albums were disco collections put out by RONCO (70s), the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever (1977), and the soundtrack to Grease (1978). I had a pre-pubescent desire to be Olivia Newton John. She was soooo beautiful . . .I spent the seventies, my under-10 years, listening to 8-tracks that ran from disco to Zepplin and the Who to the Carpenters and my beloved Olivia (Have you never mellow?).

The first album of taste that I can recall buying was Synchronicity by the Police (1983). I feel like I was much younger than 13 when I bought this. I recall listening to it over and over again at slumber party my friend Heather Caldwell had. My first CD was Dream of the Blue Turtles in 1985. I had a thing for Sting (still do–he’s yummy!) I matured a lot between 83 and 85.

On 05 February 2004 (01:44 PM),
Denise said:

My first album (REAL music – not Disney stuff) was Van Halen, Van Halen. It was very good – I got it from my Aunt Terry who was a rocker for sure. She has now changed her name to Terin, though.

On 05 February 2004 (02:27 PM),
Lynn said:

I think Shakespeare’s rather famous for inventing a few words and/or phrases. :-)

I hate to say that I think Thriller was my first album purchase as well. But my brother – 11 years older than I – gave me a large box of his 45’s to which I listened with great enthusiasm. Black Betty by Ram Jam, We Are the Champions by Queen, Life is Good by Joe Walsh, and American Pie by Don McLean were among my favorites! As was a song called Mr. Jaws in which a reporter told some story about jaws and sampled many different famous songs to give the answer to his question. For example, “Mr Jaws, what are you going to do now?” Answer, “Do the hustle!” It was good fun.

On 05 February 2004 (02:40 PM),
mac said:

vinyl: Depeche Mode “Some Great Reward”
CD: Guns n’ Roses “Appetite for Destruction”

Same day as G n’ R– Skid Row’s self titled album.

All three are still near and dear to my heart

On 05 February 2004 (06:42 PM),
mart said:

JD: tug of war is an exceptionally fine album. my parents got divorced in germany to that album so for me it encapsulates everything about my strange early teens in a foreign land, driving back and forth between strange towns while they “sorted” things out, fielding emotional gut punches all the time. i still listen to it sometimes and it still gives me chills. i’d burn ebony and ivory off it though, what a crap song… “you can dress me up a a robber” is my fave.

On 05 February 2004 (06:45 PM),
mart said:

btw:

first album? queen “the game”

first cd? i bought 5 that day… john coltrane “ballads”, sgt peppers, philip glass “solo piano”, steely dan “gaucho” and janes addiction “nothing’s shocking”.

On 05 February 2004 (08:21 PM),
Denise said:

Don’t ask Lynn the words to Black Betty, though, she never gets them right!

On 06 February 2004 (08:55 AM),
Lynn said:

Bam-a-lam, baby!

On 06 February 2004 (09:03 AM),
Dana said:

This is sort of embarrasing…

Vinyl: Switched On Bach 2 (Bach on a synthesizer)
Tape: Flood, They Might Be Giants
CD: Doctorin’ the Tardis (by ‘The Timelords’, aka KLF).

Hm. Speaking of Doctorin’ the Tardis, take a look at this! =)

On 06 February 2004 (10:50 AM),
Craig said:

First Vinyl (with my own money): Bruuuuuuuuce Springstein, “Born in the USA”

First Vinyl (not my own money, but which I caused to be purchased for me): Johnny Horton, “North to Alaska” (I experience not one bit of shame for this. Number two was Elvis, “Golden Records.”)

First CD: U2, “Achtung Baby” (Just had this on the other day.)

First Concert: Brian Adams, from a nosebleed seat, Sullivan Sports Arena. This was the concert event of the season in Anchorage that year (1987?). The Anchorage concert season was not impressive.

On 06 February 2004 (12:13 PM),
Kris said:

Okay, since Tiffany doesn’t seem inclined to share her story, I’ll tell it and she can correct me.

When I was 13 and she was 10, Thriller was at the Top O’ the Charts. Tiffany had saved up enough to go buy the album at the BX (Base Exchange on the Air Force Base). She arrived home very pleased with her independence, eager for a listen, but was soon crushed by the realization that she had purchased by mistake the all-instrumental extended version of the song “Thriller” instead of the complete album. Sobbing ensued. In my memory, my Mom took it back for an exchange and Tiffany was all smiles again. Is that right, Tiff?

Later, when my family lived in Hawaii, my Dad took regular business trips to South Korea. He brought back with him bootleg versions of the latest popular cassettes. I had bootleg Billy Joel, The Go-Go’s, Men at Work, Pat Benatar, Cyndi Lauper, Lionel Richie, etc. So, I guess you can blame my Dad for setting me on the twisted path of music pirating.

By the way, the first album I owned (gift from a friend– 5th grade slumber birthday party): Leif Garrett (ugh!!)
First album I ever bought myself: Hall & Oates (greatest hits, I think)– It had a purple & yellow cover.
I think I had met Jd by the time CD’s really became the thing, so I haven’t really had to buy my own music after that! Imagine! But I did get the Queen greatest hits double album a few years ago. Freddie Mercury was a friggin’ genius, right, Nick?

On 06 February 2004 (12:20 PM),
Nick said:

Absolutley!

On 06 February 2004 (01:21 PM),
Tiffany said:

Yes, Kris you are right. I think I shared that story on the blog at some time before.

First tape was Air Supply, Greatest Hits.

First CD, I think was a REM, but I may be wrong.

First concert Bon Jovi (I was given the ticket when a friend got sick)

First concert that I paid for, Depeche Mode.

On 06 February 2004 (04:20 PM),
Paul said:

First album (birthday present) “Ghost in the Machine” Police. Funny that both my album and my wife’s were by the Police.

On 07 February 2004 (11:16 AM),
Dave said:

First Album (vinyl): Star Wars Soundtrack
First CD: Yaz- Upstairs at Eric’s
First (Pop/Rock) Concert: Bonnie Raitt’s Nick of Time tour or The Crazy 8’s (I can’t remember which was first)

On 29 January 2005 (05:33 PM),
Larry said:

The word Flotch has a long history in my family. I first remember it in a song being sung to one of my smaller cousins. He was toilet training. The funny story that my uncle tells of his first encounter with the word is posted in my blog: http://flotchmaker.blogspot.com

On 29 January 2005 (05:33 PM),
Larry said:

Yakima 2004

Kris and I joined the Gingerich family for an extended weekend vacation, visiting Jenn’s parents in Yakima.

Yakima bills itself as “The Palm Springs of Washington”. I’m not sure that’s apt — how often does Palm Springs get snow? Yakima is located in central Washington, and is surrounded by low mountains; its climate is ideal for growing fruit. Apple orchards and pear orchards and cherry orchards abound. There’s even a small wine industry.

The last time we visited Yakima with the Gingeriches was three years ago in April. It was a shorter visit, and there was no snow on the ground. This time we stayed for three-and-a-half days, and there was plenty of snow.

Click a thumbnail to open a larger image in a new window.

[photo of Kris sledding in the backyard]

On Saturday, I joined the women for a quick trip to Value Village. I picked up three t-shirts (including a real prize: an orange t-shirt with the puzzling slogan: “I agree with Tyler and Pete”) and, at the prompting of Kris and Jenn, two sweaters.

Jeremy wanted to go wine-tasting in the afternoon. I was reluctant at first, but had a lot more fun than I’d expected. We only visited three vineyards, but the wine was good, and, because of my reduced calorie intake, it didn’t take much tasting for me to get a little tipsy. I bought several bottles, including two of a black Muscat from Hyatt Vineyards. It’s a pleasant strawberry-tinted summer dessert wine — not too sweet. (I also picked up some cheese-stuffed kalamata olives soaked in garlic!) At Bonair Winery, the owners’ son waited upon us. He poured wine and chatted until we found ourselves late for our dinner reservations. Jeremy bought a case of wine from him, and I bought a couple of bottles of mead, a drink made from honey instead of grapes. “The beverage of Chaucer and Beowulf” — it’s great stuff!. We tried a fantastic chili mead ‐ mead with a single chili pepper soaking in the bottle — but Bonair had none to sell us. Jeremy and I hope to send Jenn’s parents up for a case of the stuff when it’s bottled again next summer.

(Also: Bonair Winery featured a display of small, over-priced quilts. Some of them were quite beautiful, it’s true, but the prices seemed outlandish (several hundred dollars each). My favorite part of the display were the signs next to the quilts: “Please do not touch art”. HA! “Please do not touch art” sounds like an admonition you’d give a child: “Art is to be viewed, not touched.”)

We eventually made it to dinner at Birchfield Manor only a few minutes late. We had a fine meal and pleasant conversation before retiring to the house for cigars and a dip in the hot tub.

On Sunday we drove north to see the elk-feeding. We were more excited by the birds. There were several eagles soaring around a nearby hill, and one which seemed to be feeding on a dead elk. Jenn’s parents are avid birders (they just returned from a birding trip in the Caribbean), and had brought their birding binoculars with them. After we watched the elk (and the eagles), we stopped at another location to look at big-horned sheep. There, we also saw several deer and some larger elk.

There was a bit of snowfall Sunday morning, but we woke to several inches on Monday. After the kids finished watching The Pink Panther (which they love), we spent some time sledding down the backyard slope. Because of my knee, I was reluctant to join, but once I did, I had a blast.

Other highlights from the weekend include: crab and roast for dinner, playing UNO with the kids, ripping CDs from Bruce and Janet’s collection, watching the second and third chapters of Undersea Kingdom with Hank, helping Bruce learn to edit home movies on his computer, making monochromatic photographs, and driving back over a snowy pass last night.

It was a relaxing weekend for everyone I think, even Jeremy (though his idea of relaxation involves things like clearing all the snow from the driveway). Kris and I are thankful to Jeremy and Jennifer for inviting us to join them, and to Bruce and Janet for their wonderful hospitality.

Comments

On 03 February 2004 (09:34 AM),
Tiffany said:

You are right; Palm Springs does not get snow. The mountains just south of PS have snow for amount 6 months every year, but not on the valley floor.

On 03 February 2004 (01:50 PM),
J.D. said:

Hm.

As it turns out, I strongly disagree with Tyler and Pete.

On 03 February 2004 (02:01 PM),
Joel said:

Buying t-shirts at random is SUCH a crapshoot.

On 03 February 2004 (02:38 PM),
J.D. said:

Er, it’s a little strange to be trackbacked by myself…

On 03 February 2004 (03:52 PM),
Tiffany said:

You should change the shirt with a Sharpie and wear it anyway.

The Cinnamon Bear

I have many memories of childhood — and by this I mean the time when I was younger than say six — but most of them are scattered and patchwork.

For example, I can remember that I listened to The Cinnamon Bear every night on KEX during the period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but I cannot recall a single instance of ever having done so.

I have a concrete recollection of the promise of The Cinnamon Bear: I can recall being in a department store, probably a Fred Meyer (and probably the one on Hawthorne) with Mom (and possibly Dad), being mollified with the promise of the show: “If you’re good, we can listen to The Cinnamon Bear when we get back to the car.” I can remember trying to be good, holding Mom’s hand, riding down an escalator with her. But I don’t know if I actually got to listen to the episode.

I loved The Cinnamon Bear. I wanted to listen to it every year until I reached junior high. I’m not sure that I ever knew the full story; we’d miss most nights during any given December, so that I only got to know the story patchwork..

I remember that the show frightened me: the Root Beer Ocean and the Inkaboos, the Wintergreen Witch, the Looking Glass Valley, the Crazy Quilt Dragon. These things frightened me, but in a good way. It was a delicious fear. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was my love of The Cinnamon Bear that imparted within me a lifelong love of fantasy and science fiction, of speculative fiction in general.

I sometimes give Jeremy and Jennifer a hard time because they don’t like for Harrison to be scared (won’t let him watch The Wizard of Oz, for example). Maybe this is the reason: I can remember being scared by The Cinnamon Bear as a child (and by The Wizard of Oz), but I know that living through this fear, facing it and overcoming it, made my world a better place.

Did you listen to old-time radio as a child? Did you listen to The Cinnamon Bear? It’s a great story for kids. On the web, you can find not only an episode guide, but also mp3s of individual episodes. Enjoy!

Old Comments (pre-crash)

On 01 December 2003 (09:24 AM),
Tammy said:

Nope. Didn’t listen to the Cinnamon Bear. Didn’t listen to anything! We didn’t own a radio or a Tv when I was growing up. I bought my first Tv when I was 27 years old. I still don’t listen to the radio. I just never got in the habit. But I can tell you all about Christmas at Almanzos house in the Little House series. I tried to carry my love of Farmer Boy over to my oldest daughter. Every Christmas while I baked she would perch in the kitchen and read the Christmas chapter to me out of that book. I just loved the hustle and bustle of their Christmas and the odd chores that needed done, like cleaning the chimney lamps and polishing the stove, and setting the fruit cakes to saok in wine for three weeks. Never had a radio. Never had a Tv. But I had books! I was blessed indeed!

On 01 December 2003 (10:19 AM),
Dana said:

I’ve never heard of the Cinnamon Bear before.

The closest my family came to a seasonal ritual of this sort was watching the old stop-motion and Charlie Brown holiday specials on TV. You know, the Rudolph one, the Baby New Year one, the one with the Heat Miser, and the Easter Bunny one, and the Jack Frost one.

Oh, and listening to Alice’s Restaurant around Thanksgiving.

On 01 December 2003 (10:47 AM),
J.D. said:

KEX was, at one time, the most popular station in Portland. Looking back, it seems they tried to be all things to all people. They had a Big Band program on Sunday afternoons. (That’s where I get my love of Big Band music.) They played The Cinnamon Bear between Thanksgiving and Christmas. They played other old-time radio shows, spooky shows, around Halloween. I think there was even a period — a few weeks? a few months? — during which they had a regular night-time block of old-time radio shows.

When KECH 22 started broadcasting out of Salem/Keizer (a UHF station, what a novelty!) in the early eighties, they had an afternoon block of shows they called “The Oregon Jones Adventure Hour” or some such. The programming was hosted by a fat man in a black leather jacket and a hat. (I could play the part now!) On the program, they showed adventure serials from the 1930s and 1940s: Buck Rogers, Flash Gordon, Commander Cody, and various detective and cowboy shows.

So, although I grew up in the seventies and eighties, I had some small exposure to what it must have been like growing up in the thirties and forties.

I’m downloading The Cinnamon Bear and will burn the episodes onto CD. I’m going to give copies to my young friends, Ian first and then maybe Harrison. Also, I see that many of the old-time serials are being released on DVD for CHEAP (~$5.00). Very tempting. Very tempting.

On 01 December 2003 (11:39 AM),
Dana said:

See, this I get. We had a Fargo-based UHF station when I lived in Moorhead that showed the old George Reeve The Adventures of Superman show which, along with the ubiquitous Superfriends, cemented my love of superheroes. “Golly, Mr. Kent!”

Oh, and before that, living in the UP of Michigan, we got WGN out of Chicago for awhile, and they had an early morning/before school cartoon show that would also show the old Buster Crabbe Flash Gordon serials, one episode a day. The one I remember involved some sort of mole people. I suspect it was “Flash Gordon’s Trip to Mars”, where Queen Azura and the Clay People of Mars teamed up with Ming the Merciless to steal all the nitrogen in Earth’s atmosphere.

Great fun. I had a beef with the 1980 movie because they undercut the intelligence of both Hans Zarkoff and Flash. Max von Sydow as Ming, however, is just about the greatest casting ever.

On 01 December 2003 (12:06 PM),
Dave said:

The Cinnamon Bear rocked! I remember quite clearly listening to episodes of the Cinnamon Bear, huddled next to our huge console TV/stero/recordplayer in our living room. I wonder if brother Paul remembers it. I’ll have to download and burn those mp3’s as well.

On 01 December 2003 (01:15 PM),
Denise said:

Ok – I must have missed out, because I don’t remember listening to the Cinnamon Bear, or watching anything about the Cinnamon Bear….I just remember seeing the Cinnamon Bear at Nordstrom, and getting a gingerbread cookie from him every year.

Maybe I’m mixing up my holiday bears, though….

On 01 December 2003 (01:18 PM),
Denise said:

And, Dana, I know the whole Heat Miser/Cold Miser song by heart! That’s a classic!

On 01 December 2003 (02:49 PM),
Dave said:

To the best of my knowledge the Nordstrom Cinnamon Bear, Denise, is the very same bear as the radio show bear in question. As we got older, however, the radio show was discontinued (at least we could never find it on the radio) but the Cinnamon Bear continued to appear at Nordstrom. I seem to recall that this happend about 4-6 grade or so (JD, any help here?), perhaps a year or two later, but not much later certainly.

On 01 December 2003 (07:42 PM),
Paul said:

J.D.,

YES. I remember the Cinnamon Bear! I had completely forgotten about it. It was one of those special treats when we went to Portland. I’m from central Oregon (Madras) and KEX didn’t come in across the mountains but we knew about it from TV plugs and those certain times around Christmas when we were fortunate enough to be in the car when it was on. I think I even met the Cinnamon Bear once. Lloyd Center???

Thanks for the memory.

Paul

On 02 December 2003 (12:28 PM),
Michael said:

Ah yes, the Cinnamon Bear… “His” home was first Lipman’s and then Fredrick & Nelson department stores. In the beginning they had “him” roam the store and eventually set it up so you visited the Cinnamon Bear as you sat on his lap and they took a picture. The bear gave out Full-Size cookies from “his” basket.

When I was 13 years old I applied to be inside the Cinnamon Bear costume and got the interview. It was my first interview ever and I could tell I was over my head. I had to go up to the seventh floor into the executive offices of the downtown Fredrick & Nelson and was asked all sorts of situational “what if…” questions. The hiring manager thought I was cute in my slacks and blazer but did not take me seriously and I did not get the job.

On 02 December 2003 (12:40 PM),
J.D. said:

Michael’s story above, about autioning to be The Cinnamon Bear, is particularly good for those of us who know him: Michael has a thing for mascots. He’s been the mascot for the Salem-Keizer Volcanoes, for example, and he may have even been the Oregon Duck at one time or another. Actually, the next time I see him, I’ll ask him about his mascot history. I think it’s fun. (Of course, if Michael reads this comment, he can post his mascot history himself if he’d like.)

On 02 December 2003 (12:55 PM),
Michael said:

My mascot history has included…

ODOT Safety Dummy (Presentations to school-aged children)

Oregon Duck (mostly volleyball, basketball, public appearances and a wrestling match(?)

Chip the chipmonk (as in Chip & Dale- for the Boise River Fesitval Parade- not Disneyland. Same costume used for the Macy’s Thankgiving Day parade)

Easter Bunny (Church related event)

Gumby (Authentic costume from the Gumby corporate office for a marketing presentation at NIKE)

Crater (S-K Volcanoes)for baseball games and PR appearances- was the Grand Marshall of the Sheridan Days Parade… Yee Ha!

Not sure what the next “gig” will be…

On 02 December 2003 (05:16 PM),
Andrew Parker said:

Mom listened to the Bear as a kid in Tigard and turned me and my sister onto the serial. I remember listening in the car on the way home from swim team, upstairs on my sister’s portable radio, and on rare occasions in the parlor on dad’s “hands-off” stereo.

I still have an old Polaroid somewhere of my sister and me as little kids standing with the dude in the bear suit. I remember looking through the eye holes at the structure inside… ~25 years ago? Pretty sure it was at Lloyd Center.

On 04 December 2003 (08:48 AM),
Aimee said:

JD … This is a slight tangent from the Cinnamon Bear thing, but yesterday I was driving along Hawthorne Boulevard and noticed that At The Hop was sporting a new coat of orange paint. Odd? Not if you’re Big Daddy’s Barbeque!!! Yes, a Portland mainstay from your youth has been converted into a jumpin’ new joint called Big Daddy’s … Just thought you’d like to know. I imagine that you’ll be dining there real soon …

On 04 December 2003 (09:57 AM),
J.D. said:

I don’t actually know how long At the Hop was at that location. I only ate there once. It must have been in 92 or 93, when I was making sales calls for Custom Box. It was during my Ayn Rand phase. I can remember sitting at one of the tables, eating my burger and fries, sipping my chocolate malt, reading Atlas Shrugged. How wonderful was this John Galt! Damn that Clinton! Curse the collectivists of the world!

On 08 December 2003 (05:50 PM),
Paddy O’ Cinnamon said:

The Cinnamon Bear is on KEX? KXL? starting December 19, I believe, and yes, he was at Lipman’s! I’ve been looking for a Paddy O’ Cinnamon stuffed bear or puppet for years!

On 23 December 2003 (08:31 AM),
Erwin said:

Not sure if anyone is watching this thread anymore, but I was on a quest to see if anyone else remembers the Cinnamon Bear. My father worked for the radio station in the early 80’s so I’ve had my own taped broadcast for most of my life. At 28 I still listen to the show and every time it takes me back to when I was a child.
Can anyone out there refresh my memory of the train on the celing over the Christmas scene at a store downtown? I remember riding in something but it’s all a little fuzzy. Thanks

On 25 December 2003 (11:23 PM),
John Russell said:

I know a friend who grew up listening to this popular bear. He tells me that he once had a book that looked like a coloring book about the bear.
Is this book still available?..
I do a big band radio show, and know some listeners who would also like this information…Thanks..john

On 26 December 2003 (03:09 AM),
Lissa said:

In a box in my basement, wrapped in plastic, is a plush version of the cinnamon bear. In my scrap book there are no pictures of me on Santa’s lap, but always on Cinnamon Bear’s lap. There’s a picture of me hugging my new plush cinnamon bear. I look like I’m about 5 or so. I’m 32 now. Wow, what memories. :)

On 26 December 2003 (11:53 AM),
Lori said:

I am looking for a Paddy O stuffed bear for a dear friend. She can remember winning one at Wieboldts in Oak Park,IL which has since been lost and would like to replace it. I am ordering the audio tapes of the radio program but have never seen the stuffed version so don’t know exactly what I am looking for. Any Help?

On 26 December 2003 (10:34 PM),
Tammy said:

Ok Erwin. I think I may know what you are refering to as I take my children to ride this train every year just as my parents took me when I was little. The train is on the 10th floor of the downtown Meier& Frank building. It goes around the ceiling and the kids get to look down on Santa land as they ride. My kids look forward to this every year. It’s down there again this year. Go check it out. It’s beautiful!

On 27 December 2003 (07:16 PM),
Alan said:

I am also looking for a stuffed Paddy O’Cinnamon bear. I’m not sure were to begin looking. Any help?

On 16 February 2004 (07:45 PM),
Jenni said:

My Father bought my son the 50th anniversary edition of The Cinnamon Bear. It is the best story I have ever heard and put my son to sleep for years. If any of you have found a Paddy O’ please let me know where.

On 19 November 2004 (11:18 AM),
William Frank said:

Wife and I are looking for original or repros of the Cinnamon bear coloring books, may have been distributed by Wieboldts stores in the Chicago area. We used to listen(as kids) to the Cinnamon Bear on the radio and also watch some versions of it on local tv (probably WGN-TV) I have the tapes of the shows and they certainly bring back a lot of memories. You may remember when Christmas started AFTER Thanksgiving, not before Halloween.

On 25 December 2004 (12:39 PM),
Tini said:

My roommate got me hooked on Cinnamon Bear. His grandmother stood in line to buy the episodes on tape. She also got him a Paddy O’Cinnamon bear ornament. I never heard of The Cinnamon bear until he brought it up last month. Now I’m saving my money to buy the cd radio show version. One thing that baffles me is that people know the actors and actresses names of the characters…all but Jimmy. Does anyone know his real name????

On 25 December 2004 (12:39 PM),
Tini said:

On 28 December 2004 (07:11 PM),
charles strawn said:

yes I remember at 3:00 pm right after school I sat on the livingroom floor to lisen to the CINNAMON BEAR. I finished coloring the book and submited it to the WIEBOLDTS store on milwaukee ave.I was 6or7 years old.After what seemed like a endless peroid of time,they said I won 2nd prize.What a wonderful feeling that was. When the elevertor doors opened onto the toy floor a man greeted us with a big red sled.

On 03 January 2005 (04:36 PM),
Bob L. said:

I can remember getting home from school (1st grade) and listening to the Cinnamon Bear on our big, old, radio in 1952. I think it was KBRC in Mt.Vernon, WA. that played it. Boy, you hated to miss even one episode. I haven’t heard it in many years but I still can hear the theme music in my head. What a great memory!

On 03 July 2005 (06:57 PM),
Chris Reid said:

I recall the Cinnamon Bear as one of the earliest childhood programmes I heard here in New Zealand – pre-Tv – not in 1938, that was before I was born, but about 1945-6. However I don’t think the voices were not American. At that time many US scripts were sold to Australian production companies who rebroadcast them for Australian and New Zealand audiences. I can’t remember much about the programme except the theme song.

On 03 July 2005 (06:58 PM),
Chris Reid said:

On 26 July 2005 (12:05 PM),
Michael Miller said:

For anyone interested, you can download 26 episodes for free at radiolovers.com!

Some of my earliest memories – also in Portland – were being at my Grandparent’s home and getting to turn on the old Philco floor model radio/turntable,push the KEX button, and listen to the Cinnamon Bear. I’ve told my wife about this for years, and last night she was allowed the pleasure of listening to the very first episode. Serious smiles on my face, what a fun trip back in time!

On 12 August 2005 (03:55 PM),
Ron said:

The Cinnamon Bear was a regular “listen to” at our house in the ’40s. Came thru on WGN in Chicago. Wieboldts on Milwaukee ave was a magical place at Christmas-time! Charles [up above] knows. But then again, Christmas is still magical even now in my later years.

On 12 August 2005 (03:56 PM),
Ron said:

On 19 August 2005 (01:50 AM),
ed said:

Growing up as pre-teens in the early ’50s my
sister and I “watched” the Cinnamon Bear every
year (1951 thru 1956) on WGN. I think it was
stop-action but it might have been animation. I
can’t exactly recall.

I never heard the radio (aural) version until
2001. But no one else except my family remembers
anything about The Cinnamon Bear being on TV.

Wiebolts department store used to sell Cinnamon
Bear stuff: the bear and a Star for Christmas
trees.

What I would like to know is what happened to those
old kinescopes or whatever (8mm film, etc.) on which
the TV Cinnamon Bear was put.

My suspicion is that the Wiebolts family is keeping
them for personal use now that their store has gone
South. But that may be just sour grapes. Possibly
the TV version was never saved in any format.

I would like to know if anyone else besides my
sister and I have any memories of watching The
Cinnamon Bear each Christmas season on TV.

Thanks for the Memories
Ed

On 19 September 2005 (10:39 AM),
James said:

Would do anything to get my hands on the old TV show of the cinnamon bear shown on WGN chicago.

On 19 September 2005 (10:39 AM),
James said:

Would do anything to get my hands on the old TV show of the cinnamon bear shown on WGN chicago.

On 03 October 2005 (01:00 PM),
Donna said:

I was so excited to find this site,I to was a great fan of Paddy O CINNAMON. My sister and me would listen to all the stories on the radio.I entered a contest at the Weiboldts. store in Oak Park Ill,it was a coloring contest. I won the contest and my prize was Paddy O Cinnamon,I loved my bear . I am looking for the paddy o cinnamon stuffed bear please help me find one. Friend of P.O.C.

On 04 October 2005 (08:12 PM),
Emilie Felmon said:

Is there anyway I can purchase the TV version on WGN the “Cinnamon Bear” I would love to see it with my grandchildren.

Thank you,

Emilie