All Star Pics

Here are some pics from Gabe's all star games.

Here's the wind up...

...and the pitch.

Gabe made a great hit, but flied out to deep left field.

Gabe shakes hands with the home plate Umpire before
their third and final game.

Gabe behind the plate.

All of the pics were taken by my wife. Here's a great,
classic baseball image with Gabe catching
against a Palm Harbor batter.

Ramsey's Visit

I've been meaning to post some pics, so I'll catch up on them this weekend.

When Katie, Brian, Sarah and Luke were down from Atlanta, we all got together for dinner at Charles and Betty's house.

The newly engaged Christina with her Uncle Pete.

Uncle Pete, Katie and cute Luke.

We always love when Katie, Brian and family come down. We're very grateful because they always find time to come down to our neck of the woods. We can't wait to see them at their home in Georgia when we visit them in a few weeks.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 45, Cashing In On Immortality

After the long and nauseous drive up the Pacific Coast Highway, we arrived in the great city of San Francisco around dinner time. It was hard to appreciate the city for all of its beauty and landmarks because we could only see the street lights and buildings illuminating the night sky. For us, having been on the road twelve nights, it looked like just another city on our long trek.

Unfortunately, during the course of this trip, from the moment we had to try and get all of Sunday’s luggage into the back of the Acura to the infinite waiting on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, tensions between the four travelers had been building everyday. As with the tides when a tropical storm approaches, the waves of tension on this trip would ebb and flow, but never completely dissipated. Instead, each day the tension from one day would build upon the next, like a storm surge of frustration and irritation ready to crash on the shore. And like an approaching hurricane, there was little I could do to get out of its destructive path.

When we reached the hotel we were surprised to find it was relatively close to the Hard Rock Café in San Francisco. After a quick check in and a quicker unpacking, we headed off to San Fran’s version of the famed restaurant chain.

As we sat down at our table, I spied more musical memorabilia on the walls and display cases and I realized at that moment that one of the drivers for me to get into acting and filmmaking was because I, like the previous owners of the collectibles that surrounded our table, wanted a certain level of immortality on this planet. For them it was music. For me, it was movies.

Movies last forever. If you have a great performance or write a great scene or direct a memorable film, that performance, that scene, that movie is on the public record forever. And your name is attached to it. Just as I rediscover works of Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn decades later, so too could others of your work if you were so lucky. Through that rediscovery lies a taste of immortality.

I wondered to myself if I would ever have anything worth being shown in a display case along with other giants in the entertainment industry. At once my exuberant youthful hope made it seem completely within the realm of possibility and yet the insecurity of not quite knowing what would make me so special as to be able to earn such an honor battled within my psyche.

In the end, I realized that my growing and evolving faith would play a pivotal role. I knew that if I were to achieve any greatness, that it would take powers greater than my own to reach such a level of achievement. I had a strong faith in the Lord and would put my career aspirations in his hands.

As our dinner neared completion I looked into my wallet and discovered I was almost out of money. Tim and I had an agreement that I would pay my portion of whatever hotel room and food charges he put on his credit cards on the trip. So, I didn’t need a lot of cash to make the journey, but what little cash I had was quickly diminishing.

Sunday, it appeared, was in the same boat as me. During out entire journey she was equally frugal in her financial decisions.

When it came time to pay our food bill, Tim’s credit card was declined. The waiter asked, “Are you staying at a hotel?”

“Yes.” Tim replied.

“That explains it. When you register with a credit card they max it out to make sure you can pay for whatever charges you acquire during your stay,” the waiter explained.

Well, that was both helpful and troublesome. It explained the credit card issue, but didn’t explain how we were going to pay for the meal. I reached into my thin, light wallet ready to pitch in when Sunday opened up her purse and pulled out a large wad of cash.

Tim, Beth and I stared in disbelief. “Here. I don’t know what I owe you for the trip, but this should cover it,” Sunday said as she offered over all of her money.

“You don’t have to give us everything,” Beth said.

“It’s okay,” Sunday replied, “I still have some.”

Tim and Beth reluctantly took the cash and paid the bill.

As we drove back to the hotel I thought of how hard it would have been for me to have all of that money on hand for the entire trip and NOT spend it! That concept just seemed impossible to me at the time. I envied her financial control. If I had that much cash on me I would have been buying everything from Bedrock City t-shirts to Mickey Mouse ears.

And it reminded me that just when I think I’ve gotten Sunday figured out, she always has one more surprise up her sleeve.

And so ended the thirteenth night on our trip to Cally.

********

Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)
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)

And I Thought I Was Nuts...

So, I'm nearing the end of my self imposed year long daily blog entry experiment called Surviving in Safety Harbor. Granted, it's been tough to create a daily entry for 365 1/4 days, but very rewarding as well.

If you think writing a blog entry everyday for a year is hard, check out the people at 365 Films, who's goal is to create a short film everyday for a year.

Their "constitution" consists of two articles:

"Article 1: We will be shooting, editing and distributing one new film, everday, for a year.
Article 2: These will be professional, structured, created pieces of cinema that tell a story or explore an issue."

And I thought I was nuts. I can't imagine how difficult it will be to come up with 365 film ideas, implement them, shoot them, edit them and distribute them daily... they must not have jobs.

You can read more about their progress on their website, www.365films.com.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 44, Touching The Pacific

Sunday awoke the next morning acting like our revealing conversation the night before had never occurred. Apparently she had ripped a page right out of my relationship moron handbook. Having authored the book, I played along.

We packed the Acura and said fond goodbyes to Paul and Anne, thanking them profusely for their tremendous hospitality. We followed their hand drawn directions and quickly found the interstate.

Weaving up the Pacific Coast Highway.

The thing about driving on highways in Los Angeles is that speed limits aren’t really important. Apparently, since traffic often comes to a standstill on these six to ten lane interstates, if the roads are clear and the traffic moving, all bets are off. As the Acura neared eighty miles per hour, we still found cars zooming passed us.

There are two ways to get to San Francisco, the interstate, which takes you about four to six hours, or you can take the historic Pacific Coast Highway, which travels up the coast of California, but it adds an additional two hours to the trip. Having never been in California and never knowing if we would ever return, we decided to offer up the two extra hours to the travel gods and take the journey up the coast.

The Pacific Coast Highway is a winding multi-lane road that weaves up and over and around the natural landscape that looks over the Pacific Ocean. For the first few hours the mountains and the view were breathtaking. Every turn seemed to offer a unique and exciting view.

The sun beginning to set on the highway.

After about three hours, however, the back and forward motion of the car, along with the speeding up and slowing down, had caused everyone in the car, including the driver, to grow increasingly nauseous. We cracked the windows and let in the cool evening air in an attempt to subdue the waves of gastric discomfort rising in all of us.

After another hour of weaving and swaying and slowing and speeding, we decided to take a breather and do something none of us had ever done… touch the Pacific Ocean. We pulled the car over near a scenic overlook and walked down to the beach. As the sun began to set we cautiously approached the water as it rippled onto the beach. None of us were dressed for a swim, so we took off our sneakers and tip-toed toward the water.

In near unison we all bent down and placed our hands in the salty ocean water. As the water quickly wrapped around my feet and my toes sunk into the dark sand I was shocked to discover the water to be so cold.

Near the beach, the sun dips below the Pacific.

I smiled to myself as I thought back to swimming in the Gulf of Mexico on the west coast of Florida and fighting the waves of the Atlantic Ocean in Daytona Beach. My mind then imagined how the explorers Lewis and Clark felt when they had finally reached the end of this great land and felt the cold surf of the Pacific Ocean. There was something monumental in being able to touch one of the world’s oceans.

After that rather quick respite from the to and fro of the drive up the Pacific Coast Highway, we re-entered the blue hatchback and drove into the night, heading toward the great city of San Francisco.

********

Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)
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)

Happy Birthday Dorothea!

My daughter, Dorothea, enters the uncharted, dangerous waters of teenhood today. She's officially 13.

I can so easily remember holding her in my arms as an infant, rocking her to sleep. Now, she's a beautiful young woman with a Koehler face and a Bauer sense of humor.

She shares my love of acting and my love of movies. We're so blessed as she is very caring and considerate.

She's more special than I can sculpt in words.

Happy 13th birthday, Dorothea. You'll do great things in this world.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 43, Between The Hard Rock And A Hard Place

We had decided when we started our journey to California to make the Hard Rock Café a mini-home away from home. We knew that there would be Hard Rocks in Dallas, Los Angeles and San Francisco, so we made a point to use the visit to the Los Angeles version for Tim’s twenty-sixth birthday.

We arrived at the Los Angeles Hard Rock and were disappointed to see that this location resembled more of a loud singles bar than it did a musical museum that served above average fare.

There weren’t a lot of seating options available so we decided to sit around a small, high table with bar chairs. The music was loud and conversation was difficult. At one point Sunday went over to the bar to get a drink and was immediately hit on by a tan, blonde hunk of a man about 100 times more handsome than I could ever imagine myself to be.

As she smiled, flipped her hair and flirted with the hunk I found myself experiencing an emotion I was ill prepared to face… jealousy. I remember vividly being stunned that I was growing upset that Sunday was flirting with someone else. Funny that I could immediately spot her flirting with someone across a crowded bar, but was unable to comprehend when she was flirting with me.

I turned away and thought to myself… why am I jealous? I was growing to despise this person just hours earlier, yet here I was fighting the green monster because Golden Boy was making moves.

For some reason, over the past week or so I had grown to possess a latent fondness or attraction for Sunday. I had battled my insecurities for the entire trip, but was also flattered by her attention.

As Tim and Beth held hands and leaned close to each other in order to talk, I found myself realizing the definition of being a third wheel. Tim and Beth were having fun, Sunday was having fun and I was sadly jealous over someone with which I had no right to feel jealous.

That feeling of jealously quickly turned to shame. How pathetic was I… not only to feel this way, but to be so insecure as to allow myself to feel this way.

Eventually Sunday rejoined our table as the food arrived. Embarrassed, I hid my feelings and, instead, complained about how much better the Dallas Hard Rock was than its Los Angeles cousin. Unable to compete with the loud conversations in the bar trying to yell over the louder music, we ended up just sitting quietly and eating. Sunday downed a few more drinks and, together, we all toasted Tim on his numerically unique birthday.

On the way out to the car it was to nobody’s surprise that Sunday was lagging behind. Tim and Beth continued ahead of us while Sunday, feeling more open and aggressive with a few drinks in her, starting yelling at me.

I asked, “What are you mad at me for?”

She grabbed my arm and turned me toward her. “You haven’t made one single move on me this whole trip!”

“What?” I asked with utter confusion.

“I’ve been flirting with you and hitting on you and you haven’t tried to kiss me or anything!” she exclaimed.

My mind was suddenly inundated with conflicting thoughts. Should I remind her that she’s dating David, our mutual friend?

No. Why? Because I’m actually flattered she was hitting on me all this time and, for how little this moment of clarity would actually last and I wanted it to exist as long as possible.

Should I tell her that I’m a relationship moron?

No, she’s apparently figured that out already.

What should I do? Comfort her? She’d have to stop yelling at me first.

Try and kiss her? No, that’d be wrong. Not only would it be betraying my friendship with David, it would also be taking advantage of Sunday while slightly inebriated.

By the time we caught up to Tim and Beth at the car, Sunday had confessed her attraction to me and explained, in detail, how offended she was that I had not attempted to make a single pass at her or tried any inappropriate touching on her person what-so-ever.

As her emotional venting came to climax, I realized that, not only had any opportunity of intimacy with Sunday evaporated this evening, but I could sense that it had ended for the trip as a whole.

For better or worse or somewhere in the massive gray area in between, we would remain only friends. As the smoke cleared I knew it was for the better.

The ride back to Paul and Anne’s house was uncomfortably quiet. I spent the time silently trying to understand this unexpectedly odd and emotionally tumultuous night.

As so ended the twelfth day on our trip to Cally.

********

Part 43, (Text, Audio)
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)

Happy Independence Day!

Thank you, Lord, for allowing us to live in a country where we can so openly praise Your name. For allowing us to live with the freedoms to which you have graced this country.

May this country continue to glorify you in our actions and continue to lead by Your example.

Thank you for this independence from tyranny and freedom that comes with Your salvation.

X-Men : The Last Stand (2006)

The mutants in the X-Men world are facing a mandatory inoculation that will cure them of their mutations, thereby turning them back to average human beings. The mutation-suppressing cure is actually generated from another mutant who's own mutation disables the mutant genes in others.

This cure sets into motion the forces of good mutants (X-Men) vs. the bad mutants (Magneto and followers). Thrown into the mix is the apparent resurrection of Jean Grey, who sacrificed herself at the end of X-Men 2 to save her friends, and everything is different. This time, however, Jean is not what she appeared to be the last time we saw her. She is the strongest mutant on the planet and her powers now go unchecked.

The film is most likely the last in the X-Men series, as many of the main characters are impacted during the course of the film.


And, as a final song in the X-Men trilogy, the war that unfolds is much more violent and explicit than the previous X-Men outings. It is an intense ride and a satisfying conclusion to the series, for X-Men and action movie fans alike.

The Perfect Stranger (2005)

What would it be like to have dinner with someone claiming to be Jesus Christ? That's the premise of the very entertaining film called The Perfect Stranger. The film, written and starring Jefferson Moore as The Stranger, plays a man who claims to be Jesus Christ and invites a lawyer, performed by Pamela Brumley, to dinner.

Brumley reluctantly attends the dinner and is very skeptical of The Stranger's intentions, yet he offers enough insight to keep her interested. As the conversation continues, his knowledge of her and his arguments of theological issues brings her closer to the belief that she is actually having dinner with Jesus Christ. Is the man truly Jesus Christ or an imposter? As the story unfolds, you find out.

Watching the film makes you wonder how wonderful it would be actually have dinner with Jesus Christ. What would you say? What would you ask? What would he say to you? You'll find your mind racing with many questions, discussions, conversations, etc.

Considering how personal such a question as "what would it be like to have dinner with Jesus Christ" can be, the film is exceedingly satisfying. The acting is wonderful and the screenplay, adapted from the book by David Gregory, covers so much ground, yet it all unfolds so naturally that the screenplay never appears preach or overly wordy.

The Perfect Stranger is an intriguing, touching and pleasantly satisfying family Christian film. Find an evening and spend it with your family watching this film. It's a dinner you won't soon forget.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 42, The Straw

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.

********

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)

Thank God Its Over

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.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 41, Cinematic Fixes and Inner Gastric Mixes

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)

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 40, Disney Land And The Rebel Alliance

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)