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There are certain numerical anomalies that occur in one’s life and the date 8/8/88 was one of them. Not only was this one of the rare times in human history that you would have an eight day of the eighth month during the eighty-eighth year… but it also turned out to be Tim’s birthday.
We decided to celebrate by taking a walk down the infamous Hollywood Walk of Fame near the historical Grauman’s Chinese Theater. The sidewalks are covered with stars, within which is a star’s name and a symbol representing their area of the arts for which they earned the honor. For example, Steven Spielberg would have a movie camera, Bing Crosby a record player, Anna Nicole Smith a dunce cap.
We parked the car at the Grauman’s Chinese Theater and started our walk. For those of you who have never visited this area of Hollywood, you would be surprised to know that it’s no longer in a very affluent part of town. It’s run down, actually. In 1988, the streets were populated more by a smattering of homeless than of tourists such as us.
The four travelers started our magical walk down the well worn sidewalk, stopping and gazing at the many stars identified at our feet. Tim, Beth and I chatted as we strolled down the sidewalk when we suddenly realized that Sunday was a half block behind us. We stopped and waited, then continued on.
Shortly after we again found Sunday a half block behind us, walking substantially slower than the rest of us. This slower speed was one of those mole hills that was turning into a mountain. Whether it was at the Canyon or Disneyland or going to the movies or on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame, the three of us found ourselves continually waiting for Sunday to catch up. Tim and Beth had grown tiresome of the repeating annoyance so continued on.
I hurried back to Sunday and asked her to try and keep up. We eventually made it back up to Tim and Beth, but it was not long before Sunday had drifted another half block behind us again. At this time, I had lost my patience and decided to just keep walking with Tim and Beth. I figured keeping up while strolling down a sidewalk was not too much to ask.
With every subsequent block, Sunday fell farther and farther back. Personally, I was torn. Part of me was mad that she just couldn’t turn up her motor a bit faster and the other part of me felt responsible for putting her in this situation in the first place. After a few more blocks I turned around to find Sunday being aggressively harassed by a homeless man three blocks behind us.
I was concerned for her safety so I rushed back and interrupted the confrontation, pulling Sunday aside and explaining to her that she really needed to keep up with the rest of us.
Have you ever tried to psychically motivate someone to do something because you were afraid of confrontation? I’m not a real strong believer in psychic ability… I mean, I think people can have intuition and some people can be gifted, but I find most psychic-for-pay arenas to be bogus. However, having already asked and pleaded for Sunday to push up the pace of her walk with no success, I had run out of ways to ask her politely. Instead of saying what was in racing in my mind, I instead tried to mentally thrust my will upon her as we walked.
First, I walked just a little faster than she did, hoping she would subconsciously keep up. Secondly, I focused my entire mental arsenal at redesigning her genome to recalculate her perception of slow.
Neither tactic worked.
This tiresome day on the star-studded sidewalk would end up being the straw that broke the patience of Tim and Beth when it came to Sunday. Granted, being exhausted from our trip and never sleeping on a real comfortable bed had a lot to do with it, yet I too had reached a limit. However, it was my fault for the issue even existing.
I thought back to when everyone directed their frustration at Beth when Aunt Patsy led us on a meandering journey through suburbia on our way to the interstate. I was now at the end of pointing fingers and it was my own doing. So, I could neither join Tim and Beth in my frustration nor could I align with Sunday.
To put it succinctly, it kinda sucked.
We eventually caught up with Tim and Beth at the entrance to Grauman’s Chinese Theater. We did the touristy thing outside the theater and put our hands and feet in the cement castings of such greats as Marilyn Monroe, Cary Grant and Clark Gable.
My last year in college I assistant directed a musical called A Day In Hollywood/A Night In The Ukraine. The first act was all about Grauman’s Chinese Theater. I had to research the history of the building and there was a great sense of satisfaction that I was now standing outside of this great, unique building.
We couldn’t leave without partaking of a flick within the theater’s four walls. Fortunately, the funny film A Fish Called Wanda was playing that day. We bought our overpriced tickets and sat midway in the near empty theater. It was just as beautiful inside, with ornate architecture and memorable design. I tried to imagine where the different stars of the past had sat during their movie premieres in this very same building. It was a very cool experience.
After the movie had ended we went home and changed so that we could make our consistent pilgrimage to the local Hard Rock Café to celebrate Tim’s birthday.
There I would find my emotions surprisingly torn and Sunday would offer an unexpected confession.
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Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Well, the debacle that was the Safety Harbor all star teams has finally ended as they lost their last game of the tournament 13-3. It was an ugly, ugly game. It didn't start off well either. I had brought two video cameras so my daughter and I could tape the game. As I was setting up, one of the camera batteries died. At that moment, we found out that Gabe forgot his athletic cup, which means he couldn't play. So, Dea had to go home to get the cup. After retrieving it, she tried to restart the car, but it wouldn't start.
Thankfully, our neighbor, who's son is also on the team and who also forgot his cup, happened to drive up. Cups in hand, they both came back to the field and I was able to get Gabe redressed just as the game was about to start.
As for the game itself, we got our hats handed to us. Gabe spent most of his time catching and playing second. He hit the ball every time, yet only got on base once and was later thrown out at second base by making a very poor decision.
The team played so poorly it was embarassing really. We had eight walks in one inning. We had two errors in right field costing us five runs. We had base running mistakes, playing errors, multiple passed balls, bad hops and incompetent play.
So, the undermanned and undertalented Safety Harbor 9-10 all star team played up to its own limitations, losing all three games in the tournament.
On the positive side, Gabe learned a lot about playing at the next level and he also got to play with a few players with which he had wanted to play for some time. Now, we're going to take a break away from baseball and recharge our batteries before fall ball later on in the year.
Our next day in California was relatively uneventful. We spent a lot of time doing laundry and getting ready for the trip home. Beth had a friend who lived in San Francisco, so instead of hanging out a few more days in L.A. and heading back to Florida the way we came, as we had planned, we instead decided to take a quick trip up the Pacific Coast Highway to San Fran so Beth could visit her friend. We’d then head back down toward Los Angeles before taking a left and going east… heading home.
As our day of housekeeping continued I was getting restless. But why? I’ve been on the road for what seemed like months, over ate at Aunt Patsies, threw up at Tucumcari, hiked the Grand Canyon, had lunch with a real life movie producer, visited two major universities and went to two theme parks.
Yet something was missing.
Movies. That was it. I needed a movie fix. See, I have a problem… I’m an official movie freak. I watch movies a lot. Too much. I’ll give you an example.
When I was in sophomore in high school Raiders of the Lost Ark was released in theaters. Later that summer the film ended up at Gateway Mall’s General Cinema, where admission was $1. I loved Raiders… truly loved it. It was so well written, produced by my Star Wars hero, George Lucas, directed by my favorite living director, Steven Spielberg… it exceeded all of my high expectations.
That summer of ’81 Raiders ended up playing at the dollar theater all summer long. During those ninety or so days I would often do my best to scrounge together four quarters and ride my bike the fifteen or so miles, plop down in the theater and melt into the seat. The tinny drums of the General Cinema (listen HERE) opening became an opiate as I watched Raiders over and over and over again.
Click on Picture to Watch
I wasn’t alone in this addiction. All of our buddies from our church youth group, including Tim, were involved in this sad display of uncontrollable cinematic fascination. For all of us it was our Rocky Horror Picture Show. We knew the character’s lines, knew the number painted on the side of the German submarine… we knew everything. In the near empty theater we would speak the lines aloud and joke openly amongst ourselves.
If I were an adult, as I am today, in that theater with my teenage friends, I would have killed them… we were so selfish and inconsiderate. But, for us, it was so much fun and is something I will never forget.
I’m guessing I’ve probably seen Raiders over 100 times… almost 50 alone in the summer of ’81.
So, having gone ten full days without a true cinematic fix, I was starting to twitch. That night we went to the local movie house and paid twice as much for tickets as was the price in Florida. The movie, unfortunately, was Cocktail, starring Tom Cruise and Elizabeth Shue. It was kinda entertaining, but in the end I felt like I just lost 104 minutes of my life that I’d never get back. It did feed my cinematic need, however, so I was satisfied.
When we got back to the house, Sunday went in to call Dave again while Beth, Tim and I stayed outside in the front yard drinking Pepsi and engaging in an impromptu burping contest. I was never a great burper… not like my brother Charles. Growing up he was one of the lucky ones that could swallow air and burp on command. I was so envious!
My Mom was a closet burper. She used to burp, but hold it in. Do you know what that sounds like? It sounds like an old fashioned coffee percolator. Remember that sound as the coffee pushed it’s way to the top… like someone in pre-vomit mode? It took a few years, but I eventually convinced my Mom to let ‘er rip when God’s natural release had built up inside of her. When she did, it was amazing. She was truly talented! She could medal in the Gastric Vault. She can burp better than anyone else I’ve ever met. Eventually, whenever she’d rip a good, deep burp, Mom and I would share a congratulatory high-five to celebrate her God-given talent.
Beth, Tim and I downed our Pepsi with reckless abandon. We’d swig and burp and swig and burp. The contest for best burp was close until Beth let out a long and deep one with such force it blew our hair back.
I sighed fondly and thought of Mom.
Tim was so impressed with her upper gastric release that he stood and stumbled down the front yard toward the street. His plan was to fall clumsily into the bushes. He had planned wrong.
Tim had forgotten that the front bushes where actually atop a cement ledge that rose four feet above the sidewalk below. So, Tim fell into the bushes… and then disappeared. Beth and I heard a THUD and we looked at each other concern.
Tim hopped up, unscathed, throwing his chest and arms out like a gymnast after a dismount.
Beth and I burst into laughter.
The night continued with a lot of cola guzzling, stupid jokes and hearty laughter. It would end up being the last time we would share such intimate, silly fun for years to come.
And so ended the eleventh day on our trip to Cally.
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Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
It was about one hour into our day at Disney Land that the growing tension between the travel companions began to rear its ugly head with one small sentence…
“Can we go home now?”
The sentence was spoken by Sunday.
Sunday in Disney Land.
The question was innocuous in and of itself, but the impact was great. As mentioned before, Tim and I have a belief that if you’re going to go somewhere important or special… some place where you’ve never been or may not return you should spend as much time as you can there. So, whenever Tim and I would go to themes parks we would get there when it opened and leave when it closed. That was our expectation.
It was not Sunday’s.
Her question immediately threw everyone’s frustration levels into overdrive. The answer to the question was obvious… “No, we’re not leaving yet.” But, the question itself led to one inevitable fact… it would be asked again… perhaps repeatedly.
Leaving after only an hour was so outside of our perceived approach that it seemed absurd… inconceivable. Yet after only an hour in the park full of people from all over the world enjoying themselves, reveling in the experience, we had to justify why we would want to stay in a place designed specifically for fun… a place for which we had paid full admission about sixty short minutes earlier.
Pete in Disney Land.
Through the rest of the day we did our best to juggle our activity, trying to balance somewhere between being frenetically busy while, at the same time, trying to not overtax everyone as to give anyone an excuse to want to leave. If we could walk that tightrope, we just may be able to get through the next 12 hours with a minimal amount of times having to answer “Can we go home now?”
Tim in Fantasy Land.
One of the rides we were most looking forward to experiencing was a new simulator ride called Star Tours. We knew very little about it and Tim’s brother, Paul, was pretty hush-hush about it as well, only stating that we would really enjoy it.
Beth on her way to Future Land.
Growing up in the age of Star Wars, the idea of going on a Star Wars themed ride was pretty exciting. I will never forget the first time I saw Star Wars… sitting in the theater seat watching in awe as the Empire ship in the opening scene seemed to reveal itself forever… getting bigger and bigger until is almost filled the large movie screen. Having only seen sci-fi on the small television screen in our family room, seeing a ship of that magnitude was almost life altering.
At Disney Land we went through the queue in the waiting area of the air-conditioned Star Tours ride, trying to spot small hidden items Paul had mentioned to us. As an inside joke, the designers of the ride had put their initials and birthdays on a variety of parts and moving objects in the Star Tours waiting area. We finally spotted Paul’s info on a future-looking box moving along a conveyor belt above our heads.
We finally made our way through the weaving lines and strapped ourselves into the simulator ride that held about twenty people. The premise of the ride was that we were going on a tour of areas of space in the Star Wars universe when our new driver inadvertently pilots us into the middle of a battle between the Empire and the Rebels.
Sunday, Pete and Tim on Big Thunder Railroad.
It was every kids’ dream to fly an x-wing fighter down the death star’s canyon and use the force to save the day and on this ride we actually got to scream down that canyon on that final raid. The simulator created a realistic sense of motion as the spaceship floated from side to side and avoided gunfire from Empire ships and gun turrets.
It was one of the first simulator rides that effectively immersed you in the experience and we left it reinvigorated. It was everything we had hoped for… everything we had dreamt of since playing make-believe as a child. To put it succinctly… it was really, really cool!
It was a great end to a long day at Disney Land. Despite wanting to have left about eleven hours earlier, even Sunday had a good time. That night, exhausted from walking the park and waiting in line, we were all almost unconscious by the time our heads hit the pillows, dreaming of fighting off the evil tie-fighters and joining Luke and Han Solo in bringing the Rebels to victory.
And so ended the tenth day on our trip to Cally.
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Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
I was thinking, on my drive in to work today, about my mother turning 80 years old (and how I forgot to call her and how painfully sorry I am about that and how guilty I feel and that I'm a shmuck... I could go on for hours).
But, to the point of this entry, now both my parents are 80+, they've been married 60 years and have about a billion kids and grandkids.
On my drive in today I was trying to understand what it must be like to be 80. I'm 40 years old now... well, 40 and 1/2. That means 80 is another complete lifetime for me.
After college I've found my life to be on a much more accelerated timeframe. As a child, time seemed slower, every year meant a major milestone. After college, upon entering the workforce and starting a family, time sped up.
In a blink of any eye I find my daughter is almost 13, my son 9 and my marriage going on 14 years. Now I plan in bulk... in five years we'll be able to do this and in ten years we'll be able to do that. I throw around decades like hours as I try to plan what my life will become.
Does time continue to accelerate? Or does it slow after retirement? Will 60 leap upon me with the same speed as 40 did? Will 80 catch me off guard?
I hope things slow. I hope there comes a time when you can take a moment to breath in reflection and appreciation.
Would sure appreciate our readers thoughts on this.
Gabe's little league all star team staged a dramatic comeback, but lost their second game in extra innings, 5-4.
The game, postponed after the third inning due to rain on Sunday, was continued last night. The game started at the top of the fourth inning, the Safety Harbor all stars down 3-1. Gabe's team gave up another run, falling to a 4-1 deficit. The team fought back, however, and made a couple of great plays, including stealing home to tie it 4-4.
At the bottom of the 6th inning, with two outs and West Pasco all stars on 2nd and 3rd, Gabe's teammate playing short stop, Logan, made a great stop of a grounder up the middle and rifled it over to 1st base to end the inning, still tied at 4-4.
We then went into extra innings.
At the top of the 7th, our lead off hitter got a double. A running error on the next hit left him remaining at second base, which ended up costing a chance to take the go ahead run. The top of the inning ended 4-4.
On the bottom of the 7th, West Pasco again got two men on 2nd and 3rd base with one out. They hit a fly ball to center, but a delayed throw home allowed the winning run to score and the game ended with Safety Harbor losing 5-4.
The ride home was an emotional one for Gabe. The Safety Harbor all stars have one last game Thursday against Palm Harbor. Hopefully they can use what they've learned from last night's game to propel them to get at least one victory in the tournament.
A gritty, tough loss last night.
I forgot to call my mother on her 80th birthday. The woman who bore me, raised me, loved me and fed me. The woman from whom I've inherited her sense of humor, who's eyes I look through and who's voice I adore.
That woman, when she turned 80, did not get a call from me, her youngest, her "baby."
How much of a loser am I?
I suck. It's official.
You can see Gabe's All Star Tournament Schedule and Results HERE.
Weather permitting, we'll be able to complete our game tonight that was stopped yesterday due to rain delay. I'll have pics of these past two games later in the week.
As Tim, Beth and I got ready to tackle Universal Studios, Sunday decided that her idea of relaxation was to spend the day at the house, just hanging out. To be honest, I was a little thankful. It would allow me time to try and reconnect with Tim and Beth alone, drawing from our previous, pre-trip relationship in an attempt to try and bury whatever hatchet had been thrown into the mix when I invited Sunday on the journey.
Beth on the phone talking to her parents.
Growing up in Florida, I had visited Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom on a couple of occasions. One of my strongest memories was going on a trip with my family and some neighbor kids. When we went into the Haunted Mansion I was petrified. At one point there was this glowing spider on the wall and I freaked, burying myself in a neighbor kid’s chest and crying the entire time.
Beth gave her family continual updates.
I had never been to Universal Studios, which served as both a theme park and a working studio. Many years later they would build another Universal Studios in Orlando near Walt Disney World, but in 1988, the only place to ride the famed Universal rides was in Los Angeles.
Barely avoiding the jaws of King Kong.
Avoiding the jaws of Jaws.
My imagination was racing. I wanted to hop off the tram so badly and disappear into the studios… into the magic of movie making. I kept saying to Tim, “Wouldn’t it be cool to be able to shoot something on this lot?”
Escaping a flash flood.
I got to see where they shot Leave It To Beaver and the infamous Psycho house from Alfred Hitchcock’s classic film. Being a Hitchcock nut, I was almost giddy with childlike excitement as we slowed in front of Norman Bates’ house. I kept thinking “Hitchcock stood right here, making movies.”
The Psycho House.
I was so envious. I so wanted to make movies for a living and seeing locations where some of my favorite films, like Back To The Future, had been filmed… it just flamed my passion for filmmaking even more.
Tim and Beth happy and in love.
On a personal note, I was envious of something else… of Tim and Beth. They were so in love and excited about their future. I had nobody. I had a long term relationship while in college that ended before my senior year. I dated a few girls after that, but none of them ended very well. In those quiet moments men don’t discuss with each other, I was pretty lonely. To get through the days, I would convince myself that I was too busy to get into a long term relationship, but the reality was that it was very hard to find anyone with whom that natural magnetism just clicked.
Me eating some lunch... here a carrot stick to be exact.
I suck at being alone. The worst decisions I’ve ever made have been driven by loneliness. They’re not life shattering decisions, just bad choices that ended up disappointing myself more than anyone else.
By the time we got back to Paul and Anne’s house, we could all sense an increased tension in the home. Anne pulled Tim aside and said, with her female protection radar in full swing, that she wasn’t comfortable having Sunday stay at home all day in the house because she spent most of the time in her scanty nightie while Paul was home.
Anne felt threatened and Tim understood. He promised that Sunday would join us for the rest of our days’ events.
As we got ready for bed again, I realized that Sunday's luggage may not have been filled with sleeping bags or tents or plastic stakes or anything actually useful, but she did have a hell of a lot of lingerie. Not that that's a bad thing...
And so ended the ninth day on our trip to Cally.
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Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Gabe's second game this weekend was going much better, before it was stopped due to rain. The game, against West Pasco all stars, is on hold in the top of the fourth inning. The Safety Harbor all stars are down 3-1, two of the runs scored due to error, unfortunately.
Gabe pitched the first inning very well and, as the catcher, threw a pick off throw to second to nail a runner trying to steal. He also hit from both sides of the plate. He's the lead off hitter and, at his first at bat from the right side of the plate, hit a line drive that the left fielder leaped and "snow coned" the catch. His next at bat, from the left side of the plate with men on second and third with two outs, Gabe struck a line drive that the right fielder lept and caught.
Two great hits. Two unfortunate outs.
The rains started and we waited, but the game has been postponed until Monday at 7 p.m. When Gabe got home he was so excited because he's experiencing his first rain delay... just like the major leaguers.
I love his attitude.
So, weather permitting, we'll see if our team can pull out a victory Monday night.
Gabe's 9-10 year old all star team had their first game and it turned out as we had expected, unfortunately. The team lost 11 - 1 against the East Lake all stars. Personally, Gabe actually had a very good game. He was one for two, with a line drive to the left field fence for a double and was the only run driven in for the team. He caught three innings and pitched one shut out inning.
Unfortunately our team just did not hit well and made some mental errors which, at this level, is the difference between winning and losing. At one point we gave up six runs with two outs.
So, we hope to do better tomorrow.
Got a letter from the IRS yesterday saying we owe them multiple thousands of dollars from 2004. A bunch in taxes, plus, because they just "figured this out," we get the honor of almost another 50% in fines because it's been two years since.
Made for a great evening in the Bauer household. Lucky for me I happened to have multiple thousands of dollars in my sock drawer just waiting for such an emergency...
(searches drawer)
Okay, I only found socks in my sock drawer. Disappointing.
Do you think if I leave the notice under my pillow the IRS fairy will come and leave me a check?
I guess we'll go for Plan B.
We're making an appointment to understand their reasoning. I'm sure the process of working with the government will be nothing other than pleasant and effective. I mean, it's the IRS, after all! And it's my taxes (or lack of taxes in this case) that make their very existence possible. I'm sure they'll see me as a customer instead of an offender.
Right?
(no response)
Right?
As I approached Tim’s car on the U.S.C. campus I was frustrated to find a parking ticket located under the windshield wiper. Our unwelcoming excursion into Trojan territory was now complete. I angrily pulled the ticket off of the windshield and scanned it as I entered the car.
“How much is it?” Sunday asked.
I looked at it and tossed it into the glove compartment.
“What difference does it make? We’re not coming back here and Tim’s not coming back here either. If they mail him a ticket, I’ll pay for it. If not, then screw ‘em.” I said I as started the car and sped out of the parking lot.
Our trip to the U.C.L.A. campus was relatively quick by Los Angeles traffic standards. As we pulled into one of their parking lots Sunday and I decided not to ask for a tour, but just to walk around until we got kicked out.
As we bummed our way around campus we ran into a guy from the theater department, dressed in ragged clothes dotted with paint. I can’t remember his name, but we’ll call him Andy to make it easier.
We told Andy about our trip out to California and our experiences at USC. He nodded with a knowing smile and offered to give us a personal tour of the UCLA fine arts portion of the campus.
As we walked in and through the theater, around the film school and screenwriting departments, Andy gave us the real skinny, the truth that you wouldn’t find in a school brochure.
“They’ll tell you that the writing department and the film department work seamlessly together, but that’s so not true! The department heads hate each other! They’d rather eat their own young than help each other out. It sucks, but there’s not a lot we can do about it,” Andy said.
Andy had a great, subtle sense of humor. He found as much excitement in our trip to Cally as we did in his school. He was nice and charming and treated us like a regular person. He detailed all of the pros and cons of their school and what I could expect if I made the leap. After our impromptu tour I was certain of one thing, if I did end up going to film school in Los Angeles, it was going to be at UCLA.
Time flew by quickly and we found ourselves back where we started. We thanked Andy for the informative and honest tour. He said he was going to visit his friend who lived in Gainesville in a few months and asked if we could get together while we were there. I told him I had since moved from Gainesville, but, to my surprise, Sunday openly gave him her phone number. That seemed a bit reckless to me at the time, but it was Sunday’s call.
It would turn out that four months later, Andy showed up in Gainesville. Sunday called me to tell me he was coming, but my schedule didn’t permit me to meet them there. Apparently they had a nice time at the Winnjammer.
This evening, I lied on the floor and, again, failed miserably trying not to look at Sunday’s latest evening wear… a silky blue number with ruffles around the legs, by the way.
I closed my eyes and focused on the growing sense of relaxation inside me. After just two days I had accomplished most of what I had intended… I met a fellow Florida Gator working in the biz and I visited the two prominent film schools in the city. I could officially take a breath and relax.
Over the next two days we would aggressively pursue our relaxation at rival theme parks.
And so ended the eighth day on our trip to Cally.
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Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
Beyond my lunch with Pete Producer, another major reason for this trip to Cally was so I could visit the two famous film schools at the University of Southern California (USC) and their rival school at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA).
I’d wanted to be a filmmaker since I was nine years old and, while at the University of Florida, I wanted to minor in film. This was difficult for two critical reasons. One, the Fine Arts department did not allow minor degrees. Two, the University of Florida did not have a film school. So, if I was going to get an official film education then I had to look elsewhere and what better place to look than at the film schools responsible for turning out today’s giants.
USC was known for having help start the careers of many great filmmakers such as George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola. My favorite director, Steven Spielberg, couldn’t get into USC so he earned his filmmaking chops at UCLA, so, with their track records I surmised that either place would be fine.
Sunday joined me on the day’s excursion and our first stop was USC. The campus was very impressive… so much so that I felt like I was suddenly in debt ten grand just by driving on their pavement.
We parked in the first open parking spot we could find and got out. The buildings were daunting, the grounds well groomed, the people well dressed. We asked passer-bys where the film school was and they looked at us like we were carrying some lower-class contagion.
We eventually followed the campus signs and entered the school of film’s impressive building. We went up to the second floor where a few faculty and students were mingling. For some reason, I again felt under dressed or under valued. I felt as if everyone had monetary psychic abilities and, upon seeing me, could immediately scan my bank account and determine I was someone with which it was not worth making eye contact.
I meekly approached the receptionist.
“Hi, I’m here from Florida and I was wondering if there was a tour of the film school that I could take?” I asked.
I knew from my experiences at Florida that, if someone drops by, they’ll ask a Teacher’s Aide or someone to give a quick tour. The USC receptionist looked up to me as if my question had thrust her over some irrecoverable threshold of annoyance.
“Do you have an appointment?” she jabbed.
“Ah, no… we drove all the way out here and I wasn’t sure which day we would arrive… so….” I stammered.
“Well, you need an appointment” she returned snootily.
“Can I make one?” I continued.
“For today?” she asked with disbelief.
“Yeah… if possible.” I said.
She chuckled slightly to herself and said “No, not today.”
It was at this point that my Give-A-Crap ratio immediately collapsed. This was how they talked with potential students? This is how they welcomed interest in their institution from someone who drove all the way from the other side of the country? This is how they treat people?
“Nevermind!” I said with a scoffing laugh and an obvious “people like you deserve your own special place in hell” attitude and walked out.
“What a bunch of jerks.” Sunday said as we headed back to the car.
“Yeah, screw ‘em!” I said, trying to heal my wounded insecurities.
It’s amazing how perception changes everything. On our walk back to the car the campus that filled me with awe just minutes earlier seemed plain and uninviting. Perhaps it was that I was seeing it for what it really was. Or perhaps I was layering my own frustrations onto the visible environment. Either way, my childhood urge to visit this school had officially been eliminated.
My frustrations at the morning’s events were only exacerbated by what awaited us in the parking lot…
A bright orange parking ticket stuffed under Tim’s driver’s side windshield wiper.
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Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio) Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)
We decided to celebrate by taking a walk down the infamous Hollywood Walk of Fame near the historical Grauman’s Chinese Theater. The sidewalks are covered with stars, within which is a star’s name and a symbol representing their area of the arts for which they earned the honor. For example, Steven Spielberg would have a movie camera, Bing Crosby a record player, Anna Nicole Smith a dunce cap.
We eventually caught up with Tim and Beth at the entrance to Grauman’s Chinese Theater. We did the touristy thing outside the theater and put our hands and feet in the cement castings of such greats as Marilyn Monroe, Cary Grant and Clark Gable.
After the movie had ended we went home and changed so that we could make our consistent pilgrimage to the local Hard Rock Café to celebrate Tim’s birthday.
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