BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Yo and stuff…

So, I just got back from Ohio… Yes, I went back to Ohio, but the city was still there… Not MY city, but then my name isn’t Chrissy, and I’m not pretending, so hey… (Hopefully everyone is getting that reference… If not…well…I guess I’m just showing my age again…)

Anywho, I was in Ohio for the First Annual Earth Warriors Festival. This fantastic gig was organized by Heather of Violet Flame Gifts in Newark, OH, and an amazing staff of folks who worked their tails off and hearts out to make sure the fest was a rousing success… They had a great turnout for a first time festival, and what was even more impressive was the fact that after the remnants of Ike tore up their original venue, this incredible crew managed to find a new venue and have it ready to go, all in the matter of two weeks. And, even with the last minute change they drew in a more than respectable crowd.

The first night was pretty much staff and presenter time, with all of us hanging out around the bonfire telling stories and having a few drinks. Due to the size of the venue, they had rented some golf carts for the staff to use – mainly to shuttle folks around, carry excess stuff, and be able to respond quickly to needs or situations. Well… as we know, when Morrison and I get together there can be some mischief. We happened to be standing on the back patio of the dining hall after supper and I was pacing around looking at the area. Upon peering around the corner of the building I saw a golf cart sitting there. Thinking it might be one of the staff folks I wandered around to say hey and visit for a bit. However, all I found was the golf cart… The problem here is that it still had the keys in it, as well as a radio tuned to the staff channel. Apparently the driver was inside the dining hall doing whatever… Anyway, I motioned Morrison over and then next thing you know we had committed Grand Theft Golfcart.

Fortunately for us the staff – and Heather – found this amusing. In fact, at one point, after appropriating a paper chef’s hat from the dining hall and fitting it to my head, Heather and I raced about the site in the cart, her swinging a large plastic stirring paddle, and we “cooked up some trouble”… There are supposed to be pictures… I’ll see if I can get my hands on them.

Day two found us doing a seminar to a wonderful group of attendees, meeting up with George Knowles – owner of Controverscial.com, and generally hanging out. That evening there was a rousing concert around the bonfire with the Dragon Ritual Drummers. They are a great group of guys out of Canada, and they can definitely pound out some killer beats. We had a funny moment with them earlier in the day – Morrison and I had just stumbled out of the presenters cabin and were having a cup of coffee before heading off to our respective shower houses. The DRD guys walked by and I commented that they looked much brighter and awake than we did. They replied, “That’s because we’re Canadian.”

Day three brought us back around to another seminar with a great group of attendees, followed by a book signing and hanging out with folks – including the Pie-Rats (well, that’s what I call them)… The pirate camp was a blast, and there was plenty of “Yarring” and official Grog to go around. Morrison and I were also fortunate enough to share the presenter cabin with Wendy Rule and her son Reuben. They were absolutely lovely folks who were great to hang out with, and Wendy put on a killer concert Saturday night with Reuben accompanying on the accordion. Haunting stuff and the whole crowd was mesmerized.

Throughout the entire fest, Silver the Kitchen Witch, was doing everything in her power to kill us – By that I mean she was cooking up a storm and everything was so fantastic we just kept eating, even when we weren’t hungry. So we pretty much ate until we burst. Not only were there three huge and fantastic meals each day, but on top of that there was a hospitality cabin where we could go to kick back, and Silver and her staff kept it stocked with all manner of munchies – Crudites, chips, M&M’s, coffee, antipasto platters, and some absolutely killer meatballs… These meatballs were so good that when I went in for a cup of coffee and smelled them I said to myself, “hey, I gotta try one of these…” Well, it didn’t stop there. Before I knew it “one of these” had turned into a half dozen…

So, if all that weren’t enough I got to hang out with Heather, her husband Max, Phelina, Kira, Kim, Alan, Ron, Bill & Maxine, the pirates, and a whole ton of other good friends whom I hadn’t seen in quite a while…

Now, that was the good… (Actually, it was the great!) … What about the bad and the fuglee…

Well, it certainly wasn’t possible for the universe to allow me that much fun without slapping me in the back of the head… It seems that every single time I fly out of Columbus, OH, I end up getting delayed and this trip was no different. It all started a month or so back when they changed my straight through flight to one with a connection in Chicago. Then, yesterday I went to the airport a little early with Morrison so that the festival folks wouldn’t have to make two trips to the airport. I figured I could occupy myself for that extra couple of hours no problem… But after I got Morrison on her plane and away, I kicked back to relax and soon discovered that my flight was getting more and more delayed according to the monitors… Well, eventually I had to see a gate agent to have my flight changed in Chicago because I wasn’t going to arrive there in time to make the connection… Well, they got me on the first thing out of there with seats, but I still ended up not getting home until around 10:30 last night. So, from around 11:30 AM yesterday until 10:30 PM last night, I was either in the air or in an airport. I actually could have driven and been home sooner…

But, oh well. That’s just one of those things and I blame American Airlines for it…

So, now I have to wash clothes and re-pack. Thursday I fly out for DC and Morrison & I start off on the book release tour. Hopefully I’ll be able to check in from the road…

More to come…

Murv

This blog is really about nothing. This is not to say that any of my previous blogs have been about something, however, this particular running off at the keys is pretty much about more nothing than any of the previous nothings… Or somethings… Or nothi-somethings… Well, you get the idea.

As the title suggests, it is about the ever important PB&J. Yes. The iconic peanut butter and jelly sammich.

Now, as sammiches go, the PB&J is just about the closest you can get to the land of childhood comfort foods. At least, for my generation it is.

You see, while we tail-end baby boomers (Yeah, I was born in the last year of what qualifies as the baby-boomer generation) never dealt with anything quite like the depression, we DID see a horrendous recession. We remember only being able to buy gas on Sundays. We remember hamburger being a luxury, and steak a far out dream affordable only to the elite… And, yeah, we even remember when the expression “Far Out” was cool… Along with other hallmarks of the era such as “cool”, “keep on truckin'”, and “lid” (not that I was ever…ahem…intimately associated with what a “lid” actually was… ummm… ahem… that’s my story and I’m sticking to it…) Of course, there I go digressing again…

My point is, back then, money was tight. When the company for which my father worked at the time went on an extended strike (read several months) money got even tighter. Dad was against the strike, but he walked the line for strike pay, and picked up other work where he could so that food stayed on the table and bills got paid. Mom worked too. It was the beginning of a different era – two parents, both with jobs. Life was changing drastically.

So, with money tight – and at times non-existent – even the truly wonderful childhood memory of the fried bologna sammich was relegated to specific occasions. Yes, SPAM/Treet, and fried bologna were more often than not a staple on the supper table. Don’t get me wrong. Mom and Dad made sure we ate, and ate as healthy as we possibly could. We kept a garden and had fresh vegetables. But, it wasn’t at all unusual for the aforementioned processed animal parts to be the center of our entree on the supper table. And, to set the record straight, let’s remember that I happen to like SPAM/Treet and Bologna, so I wasn’t complaining. Still, I also like turkey, steak, fish, etc…

But, back to the PB&J. That particular sammich became the common lunch. Not just because it was something kids would gladly eat – well, most kids anyway – but because it was cheap and relatively nourishing. You could get a large jar of Peanut Butter (actually a legume, not a nut, for those keeping score), a loaf of bread, and jar of jelly for next to nothing. Even better for us was the fact that we had fruit trees and grape vines in our back yard, so Mom made jelly and put it up, further reducing the overall cost.

There you had it – Cheap, full of protein, and even a handful of vitamins. Yes, a dab of sugar too, but hey, we were kids…

So…why all this sudden nostalgia? Simple. I just had myself a PB&J while standing over the sink and thinking about where my current manuscript is heading plotwise. Unfortunately, Mom and Dad are both gone, and I have no homemade jelly or preserves, but I made do with the storebought kind.

Of course, being an old guy who tries to be health conscious, the jelly was low sugar and the bread was whole grain instead of the “too soft” white bread with a bunny on the package that had been the staple in my youth… But, it still had the same effect, and it transported me back to my childhood.

As I stood there eating it, however, one other thing came to mind… The fact that our economy is crashing like a 1 year old who is just learning to walk, and now in my late forties I am witnessing the same things I saw when I was in my single and early double digits. Maybe even worse…

Up to, and including a PB&J for lunch…

I guess my daughter will get to tell this same story years from now… For my money, that’s a damn shame.

More to come…

Murv