Cause It's Friday

And I downed my 74 ounces of water, of course the nachos helped-
And the fact I just like this song by the Brothers Johnson..
And loved to dance to "Stomp" on Back in the Day Friday Nights-
Hmm. May do a few steps 'round my house-
Just cause I can and smile how once I thought 2am was still early...
Just hope I don't kick a cat in the process while I "Stomp" back--
And Happy Weekend...tis HERE!

Almost Done

And I am so grateful. Usually don't want to wish my life away, yet this year-THIS year -sucked.

I ain't gonna pretty it up.

Yes, I know am blessed He let me see another year. Each day I thanked Him for the breath in my body. Things could have been worse...

Really-Could they?

Yes, they could. However, this year--I swear, was worse than the year, of my little open-heart surgery. Yes, 2009. The year wasn't all I wanted, like better job, more money, so I'm not a frequent shopper at the Dollar Store, or a successful writing career-although He made sure I had what I needed. Even tho we disagreed on what I think I needed. :)

Yea, yea, for the folks that have known me back in the day, remember past New Year's Eves where, the partying was drown with booze, music and just the moment of that time and space. Hey, I had fun and the BEST NYE' ever: the party in the chicken coop during my senior year in high school! Trust me--it worked well--the whole town was there! :) And here I'm talking about doing for God. Surprises some still--I'm sure.

2009 brought me through alot. It's almost done. And I couldn't be happier. Just six hours away, as I script this. Look forward to it, because I am looking forward. Been to the landfill, now it's time to FILL the land with the gifts been given us.

Happy New Year--Almost!

December 26, 1976 was Sunday

No church then, yet the Gospel According to Hangover was! The night before, which had been Christmas, a festive party was held in our hometown. Oh, I didn't throw it, but a couple of older guys did--at our town's Legion Hall. No doubt the Legion Hall, known for the dance instructor who taught there for decades and bingo nights on others, hadn't seen anything like this! I was of legal age to drink, yet not so wise in the all the ways of the world--yet. I partied pretty hard. And kept my Kiss List intact.

So on this Sunday, my 5th Street Friend and I took a drive around town and sat at the park, to catch up what happened to who the night before. To read these diary pages now, I can see "Clueless" was our middle name. Nonetheless, we'd had a good time. Thought we were grown. Eventho this guy I was smoochin' with--you know how parties can be, especially when the Pabst Blue Ribbon overflows. --I called him by the WRONG name. I laughed it off. He didn't.

Like I said: Clueless

As I read on in my diary, I some how got another chum, Taxi, to deliver a gift I'd purchased for the true man of my dreams, IC (which stand for Ice Cream). Not sure how/why that happened. We drive to his house and Taxi goes up to IC's front door--this was about 11pm-to deliver the present. I watch as IC answers the door and in just a few seconds I see him shut the door. Taxi trots back to the car-empty handed. She reported as she gave IC the present, she announced I was pissed (pissed about what, I didn't write down) and IC slammed the door in Taxi's face. At least, he had my present, I rationalized...

And what was said present for the man of my dreams who thought me less of a day dream? A gift set of BRUT. I felt him worthy.

Like I said: Clueless

Let's go back to the party the night before. The band, all classmates of mine, shouted out how this song they were about to serenade us with was dedicated to me! Love IT! :

4th of July 1976 was Sunday

On the USA's 200th Birthday I celebrated my high school graduation, even if it was two months prior. And my hometown--pretty much all of it--helped me celebrate our nation's birthday at our town's park. This was on the park's tennis courts where a local band, Vertical Horizon, serenaded us with song.

Not just any song, but song you could dance to as you drank a little beer to. Yep, my Iowa hometown knew how to throw a 200th Birthday party! Sure, I hated the fact our graduation cap tassel was red, white and blue and had a minutemen replica dangling. I think I even told some teacher that night how much I hated that tassel!

But this night, two months later -all was forgiven. Even those Bicentennial Minutes we'd see daily on TV, I think on CBS, were now done--FINALLY. Hey, there was NO internet back then to divert attention. My diary tells me the guys I danced with, how much beer I downed as I danced, plus since I had that whole 'kiss list' thing going on-what guys' names were added--all on the park's tennis courts. I smile and think: Oh What A Night! And it was SO good, we did it all again the NEXT night! Happy Birthday USA!

On this day in 2009, I smile at those decade ago memories. What a great time! There are times I wish I could go back and relive them--but just be teeny bit smarter, then I realize I wouldn't really change much.

Now, I lean back in my comfy cozy, yet cluttered bungalow, along with a cat and a/c, to count my blessings for those that made this day possible for our Freedom.

Happy 4th of July!

April 10, 1976 was Saturday

Remember the day better than I remember the night. Why? This day was my one and only party I ever hosted during high school years: my 18th birthday party.

In 1976, the legal age was 18. I was determined to tell the world! Or least the citizens of my hometown. How Dad agreed to this party, which really was a keggar with 2 barrels of beer. Once Schlitz and the other Pabst Blue Ribbon....I’ll never know!
Dad could have gone to jail.

However, I’m ahead of the story.

The day itself was kinda quiet. We got the kegs. Even a sheet cake which had my name on each square. OK. In grade school, that’s how my mom bought my treats every year.
Outside of that, Dad just kind of moseyed around. Kinda quiet as I recall.
Later on, he admitted he thought nobody would show up and he would have to sooth my broken heart.
When a classmate surprised me with a delivery of 3 ½ dozen red roses around 5:30, Dad knew it was ON! No broken heart here as Dad jumped to hydro-drive. Dad fixed sloppy joes and said, “We’re gonna have a party!” And I still have the card with everybody's name who chipped in for the roses!
Around 7pm, my chums and I sat in front of my house—waiting.
No cars.
Maybe I would have a broken heart after all. Then a classmate drove by and said, “There you are! We weren’t sure where you lived!”

Within about 15 mins the convoy was in place. Stream of headlights headed to my house.
And the rest was history.
How many kids were there?
Enough that all the beer was gone in gone in 90 mins.
If there were less than 100 in attendance, I’d be surprised.
My dad, step-mother, and her sister were there every minute.

And the night....

Well, I remember getting spanked by a classmate a nd we broke the chair.
Kids everywhere. Some pretending they shot baskets in our kitchen.
Even now—all these years later, my party will be brought up in conversation.
And how cool my Dad was.
How Dad admitted to some classmates it would have just killed him if I’d decided to move to Arizona after my mom died when I was 13. My aunt, in Arizona, was my mom’s oldest sister, and I was quite close to my cousin. So my dad asked me if I wanted to move there and I shot back, “Don’t you want me here?”

Dad said that knifed him as I cried in his arms. I never heard another word about moving again.
As I grew older, Dad and I would chat about that night, Dad always said he’d never seen so many white kids in his life and he just KNEW he was going to jail.

Poor Dad. He thought those that would show up would be at least legal. He didn’t expect the whole town and some not so much.

Was it smart to throw a party like that? Of course not! Dad didn’t want to deny me a memorable anything and fought the “NO” he wanted to say about the beer, but I was legal now. Dad didn’t know and I wasn’t wise enough to even think to tell him not every party go-er would be 18.

Oh, and did I mention the police did patrol our street? To look back, I really did put my dad in a pickle. He thought his baby was just having a little get together. Dad enjoyed I had fun and the kids too, but he just knew he’d be hauled off one of those times the police patrolled the street.

We’re blessed nothing happened (back then you think nothing WILL happen) and like I said, my classmates still talk about my 18th birthday party, after all these years.

It musta been a great party—like I said, the day I remember, the night, well…
I made sure my hometown citizens knew it was birthday!
If I had kids—no way would that have such a shin-dig.
However, in 1976, it seemed like the thing to do.

Oh, what a night!

My Month C'est Marvelous!

Stepped on the scale this morning
It screamed MUCH louder.
Who cares?
It's absolute April!
The month I burst onto this Earth
The 8th day is my day.
Seven days from this day.
Some folk rile why I make such a big deal
About my day. My month.
My parents suffered through four stillborns before me

I was their last chance

And I arrived on time, April 8, at 4:37 in the morning.

I all ready knew I had things to start and do

Even through rough times after my mom's death

When I was 13, to my dad's final months in 2001

Wanted. Loved. That's what I was.

Makes memories of the spanks not too bad.

Fast forward to now-2009

With American Idol tonight. Megan Joy should be sad at night's end

Along with a Who Cares? on the sinkful of dishes

It is still April--my month.

Diamond is my birthstone

The ring, my dad gave me on my 31st birthday proves that

Sure, things could always be better.

And they will.

What you see is temporary

What you don't see is eternal

Wanted. Loved. That's what I was

And still am

Blessed

December 12 Was A Monday in 1977

As my diary reminded. I wrote how I waited for the weekend---imagine that! However, life was a tad bit different. Just a tad-then. I'd moved to Kansas City, my first move away from home, a couple weeks before. It was to head to my first major, real time job, at Travelodge Reservations Center. They hired me on the phone, site unseen. It was the 70's.

This job was WAY before computers. We did everything with different colors of papers. OK--I'm not gonna bore with you that. Wait--the salary, I think, was less than $500 a month...big time.

What I will tell you, I moved to a KC, after I attended a travel school in Coral Gables, Florida. While in Florida, I busted my step-mother's platform shoes, while I got my groove thing on the dance floor--however, that's another entry. I moved to KC with out a car--why, I'm not sure. Kansas City was a bit bigger than my Iowa hometown and even, Des Moines. For the first week or so, I lived in a motel room, not far from work. A taxi cab, that I became on a first name basis with, took me everyday. Even the motel folks were nice, they said I could stay as long as I wanted. Looking back, I should have done just that. However, at the instance of my step-mother, I needed to find a place to live. So, on a Friday night, after work, I moved into my first ever apartment, site unseen and a few miles from my job.

The apartment was a one room, furnished, all expense paid, pull out the mattress from the green vinyl couch, with a gorgeous shag carpet of black, brown, and white. Yippee. Oh, and after the taxi cab dropped me off--remember, I had no car--I moved in without even toilet paper. I remember I went to my up stair's neighbor and humbly asked for a roll. She was a single mom, with the daughter who played "Easy" by the Commodores, so loud, I heard it through the floor. A co-worker was to come and take me to the store--and didn't. I had no phone. Can't remember what I ate that first night. I remember being panicked as I looked at my tub and realized I had not shower curtain, and just bars of soap I took from the motel.

Oh, did I mention, I had no TV or stereo--just a clock radio? I'd lived in that motel, so I had my needs supplied. Those luxuries would should up in about another week or so, when my Dad Greyhound them to me. On this day, I waited for letters from my friends back home...ANYTHING. And I was readying myself for a test at my job--to make sure we all learned what color of papers to use for reservations in the US and Australia and cancellations.

In KC, is also when I began to use my full first name. It had to do with how distinguished the reps on the colored pieces of papers. A co-worker and I shared the same first and last initials. So I mentioned what my whole first name is actually two names with a hyphen in the middle. So since then, folks have known me by the whole first name, while those prior just first name of the two-name first name. Confused?

I lasted 6 months in Kansas City. Didn't have a car the entire time. Walked to work. Took me about 40 minutes. I walked straight through-no stops, and would walk home. Took a bus on some days. Or people would give me rides. Yet, I wasn't too bright to call for the bus schedule, because, one Saturday, I stood in the rain and waited for it, so I could get to work. It didn't show, so as I walked back to my apartment (which was on a hill), stopped at a 7-11 (since my phone was shut off) and called work to say I was sick. Hmm. I need to Google the distance I walked. I'm curious.

Anyway, in the diary, I wrote how I looked forward to the weekend--it was Monday, after all. I was determined to go and DO something the next weekend. Co-workers spoke of taking me around. I wonder if that happened. Little did I know, I would soon meet a guy at work. Develope such a crush and tell him, 'your name is so macho'--and later find out he was gay. Live and learn. This guy and I have known each other for 30 years. He took me to my first gay bar, showed me how to smoke my first joint and...well, the rest is for another entry--although I heard a particular song for first time at his house--as we all partied in his den as stereo blarred vinyl.

Oh well, It was the 70's. Six months does more than a memory make. Cue the Village People, for Friday IS this day and the particular song I heard for the first time in this guy's den? Hit play.

...and another thing....

The dull roar you heard, this past Saturday night--was some members of the Class of 76 as they laughed. Yes, laughed because they couldn't see a picture on someone's camera phone. On came the reading glasses. For all of us. Hey, at least the picture was in focus then!

Birthday and more......

Been a few days since I've written. Spent the weekend in my Iowa hometown for the 50th birthday party my high school class threw for ourselves. A good time had by all. I can't believe we're 50. I mean, at 18 we thought 50--was well.....death. How OLD it seemed--then.

Oh my. Now, one my classmates asked how I felt about it. Being honest, I told her I couldn't actually utter 'fifty' above a whisper. Not until my birthday did I actually say he word out loud. And Proud. We both agreed, we both felt 'freer'---that we can say what we mean and don't much care. The wisdom is the main thing. Thirty some years ago, we thought we were wise. Turns out, we didn't know squat.

All in all-my time spent in Iowa was GREAT! I wished I stayed a while longer, yet I was glad it was time to leave. That town is still my home. All two grocery stores of it. I was born and grew up there. My parents are buried there.

To see and to chat with classmates brought back so many memories. God sends many messengers to speak His plan. The last chat of the night, was with a guy, I really got to know after graduation. We spoke of passions and dreams. He's turned into a public speaker for farming procedures. He's just a good ol' guy who likes his Bud, yet makes others sit up and notice when he speaks. He encouraged me to public speak. Told me he expects me to hear him what I'm doing --and soon. He ended with, "You have a gift. Don't waste it."

Got age? It's a good thing.

You can go home again.

Was going to walk tonight...

I planned to walk tonight. I NEEDED to walk tonight. However, I lugged my trash to the curb, because tomorrow is Trash Day, watched Dancing With the Stars, and scripted a rough draft of a letter.

Yep--a letter. A letter to an Oldies stations back in my Midwestern hometown. I informed them how my high school class, the Class of 76--the Bicentennial Bunch turns 50 this year. And we want to celebrate--a mini-reunion as it were. My class had a Two Year Reunion after high school. That was special--and now turning 50 is special too. The kicker is, I would love my fave rock band, Three Dog Night to perform. We have no money in our Class Kitty--so if we can pull this off, we need help. Hence, my letter to the radio station.

Even if the radio station says no--we'll still have a party. We'll still be together. At 50, like we were at 18. Were we all best buds? Oh of course, not--we were NOT Walton's Mountain. Yet we've all been down and up. Some of us left us too soon.

This party will be in their memory--of our past, of the present--and where ever our future leads us....We ARE the Class of 1976!