Another chapter of "How Much My Job Sucks" happened today. So much so, that I even contemplated leaving the company. I did leave early with an elevated blood preassure. I am now in "the hot seat". I have had my desk moved right next to my supervisor so I can be watched closer.

Not to blow my own horn but let me describe this bad employee that I have become. I work overtime when asked; granted, not as much as I did a year ago...but you'd think the company would like that. I even give up time on my son's visitation weekends; something I had not done when he was younger. I have had people in other departments who handle my orders after I do, to process them and get them shipped, say to me on many occasions that they are always surprised when they have to cancel an order of mine due to an error in how it was entered. They can always count of my orders being done correctly and efficiently. When I was questioned about my production I had my numbers back where they were supposed to be within days.

Yes, this is the kind of employee you want to make think about leaving.

I have for eight and a half years loved my job and been proud to tell people where I worked. I'm not so sure I can say those same words in the past six months. In the past two weeks it's been harder and harder to hold on to that sentiment. In the past 10 hours I've not even been able to say any of those words.

I am going to try to hold onto my job and fight for my own dignity as an employee. I just hope it's worth it.

Ernesto turned out to be nothing more than just a big rain. While some parts of the west coast of Florida got hit with really heavy wind, we here got bupkis. I have walked around in worse wind and rain than we had last night.

Last year I stayed at the home of my friend, Jim. He is a police officer and was working 24 hour shifts. I stayed with his wife and son, Wendy and Noah. He called me a few days ago to ask if I'd stay there again as it made Wendy feel more at ease. I gladly accepted. As the storm showed signs of weakening I called him again to see if he still wanted me to stay there.

"Well," he said "Wendy won't come right out and ask. She'll just huff and puff about it. I'll hear about it."

"OK," I said, being the good friend "if it'll make her feel bett----HEY! Wait a minuet." A light went on inside my head "You want me to stay there so you don't have to heat the bitching and moaning!"

Jim laughed, "Too you this long to figure it out, huh?!"

What a pal!

Things are looking a little better. As I post this the storm has 45 MPH winds and still has not strengthened as it approaches Florida. It appreas as if this will be simply some nasty weather.



I called my ex-wife today with a little bit of left over frustration from our divorce.

"Cranston....East Providence....Bristol. Hell, there were even friends of ours who would have taken you in!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked.

"All you had to do was move out of the house, But, no! You have to come to Florida; fucking hurricane central! I lived 32 years of my life in Rhode Island and went through 4 hurricanes. I am about to break that record in 3 YEARS down here!!!!! All you had to do was move out of the house!!!!"

She saw the humor. I just hope she was laughing with me and not at me.

It's still hurricane season and we seem to be getting ready for our first (hopefully only) storm of the season. It's a little hard to predict where, when and how strong it will be when it hits. As I enter this it is a tropical storm that has just gotten the snot beaten out of it by crossing Cuba and is not expected to strengthen as it crosses to the Keys.

Of course, that still means that it will hit here with 45 MPH winds and loads of rain. As if we really needed that. I will keep you posted as I am able.

I did spend 20 minutes in line to get gas after work today. There were lines everywhere. The supermarkets were busy as well with people stocking up at the last minuet. The usual storm rush. I used to see it back home in Rhode Island just before a winter blizzard. Everyone seems to procrastinate no matter where they are.

Hey, wait....DO I have bottled water?

Damn! Gotta go!

I actually went an entire day at work without having the nagging temptation to throttle anyone. I'd call that an improvement.

Since I have vented enough on that subject let me get into the other one which has many of my friends shaking their heads at me....women. OK, maybe one in particular.

Right now we are just friends. Yes, I hang out a lot with her. Yes, I helped her move. I got her to the clinic the other day when her supervisor pleaded with her to go. But that is all there is right now and I understand that. I happen to like hanging out with her. I am not expecting or waiting for anything more. Do I sit at home wringing my hands hoping for some epiphany in her that will bring her running back to me? No. Am I pining away like some sad character from a Jane Austen novel? No.

For that matter, there's even someone else in whom I'm interested. We seem on the same wavelength and share much more in common than Stephany and me. However, and just my luck, she's in a relationship. That's fine. I'm not going to stick my nose in where it ain't wanted. But at the same moment, I have made myself a good friend and that's just fine.

Would I want either of them to suddenly come to a realization I might be just the right thing for her? Hell, yes. But right now, that doesn't seem to be next on the list of things that are going to happen.

And that's OK. I am in no different a situation that I was a few months ago. I am secure in myself and happy spending time with the best companion I know of.....me!

Another 24 hours have gone by and again I left work frustrated and angry. This is so not right.

Most of the day went ok until just during the last hour. I had an order I was working on and the insurance just wasn't working out right. There was something wrong somewhere in the file so I went to someone I knew in that department I knew could get it fixed and get the order out the door.

Gee, I thought that was my job...getting orders out the door. Apparently, some of management doesn't see things quite that way. I was working on this problem with my co-worker when a member of management walked by. I got the answer to my problem and went directly back to my desk to enter the order correctly to get it out the door. I was not in my seat 20 seconds when my supervisor came by to ask why I was out of my seat.

I think I scared her with my reaction.

I have been divorced twice and I have never been so pissed off. I was doing my stinking job and I get chewed out. It's a shame these managers don't have better things to do with their time.

I was once in a McDonald's when, in front of a crowd of customers lined up at the registers, a manager loudly berated a kid for getting his jacket before clocking out. The jacket was hanging 10 feet from the clock and the manager tore into this kid for using company time to get his jacket. The manager told him that putting his jacket on was his time and not company time. Since then, I have referred to all small minded . clock watching, paperclip counting, eaves dropping, tin plated dictators with delusions of god-hood as "McManagers".

My company seems to be getting overrun with McManagers.

It's just a job. It's just a fucking job!

That's what I kept repeating as I stood in front of my supervisor with tears of frustration in my eyes. I still cannot get over the reaction I had to something so seemingly small this evening at work.

I have been with the same company for 9 years as of next month. That's a commitment. That's the point where it goes from being just a job to being a part of your life. While it may be mundane at times, stressful at times and ridiculous at times...it has still be a part of my life for the past 9 years. I have seen the company grow from a few hundred people to over 2,000 employees. Just the other night was our 4th talent show and, rather modestly, I am part of the culture of the company as well. I have made friends in this company. I have lost friends in this company. I have seen people come and go on good terms, bad terms and those who have left the planet completely. Weddings, births, deaths, parties, arguments....everything all bundled within the confines of the overpainted walls and cubicles of my company.

Through it all, I have always enjoyed going to work. I have liked 99.9% of those with whom I have worked. I have put up with complaining customers, long hours, and stupid company policies because it has always been a good place to work and a place that was always there for its employees.

Over the past couple of years, through a few different changes of management, there was a call from upper management to support a more employee friendly place. A place which embraced some of the more progressive employee relation theories and make it the "employer of choice".

That has all been taking a crashing nosedive in recent months all culminated with one sentence from a supervisor to me just hours ago. I was told the employees were being watched for personal emails. It made me snap. I was supposed to stay a few hours of extra overtime to help with an special project but decided I did not want to give up an hour of my life to a company with narrow minds in leadership.

I grew up watching my mother work in a variety of jobs. She always made those around her a part of her life. She was able to perform the duties of her job above the level of excellence and also do work for numerous outside projects. She showed me that you can do you job and have a life at the same time.

For a while it seemed as if my company was heading in that direction. That has changed. The worst part of it all is that in training classes the progressive philosophies are still be preached but the reality on the floor is a completely different thing. The frustration is getting worse.

My supervisor said the reason I was having such an emotional response was because I care. She is right. I care about my job. I care about the company. I care about the people with whom I spend 40+ hours every week. My company should be and could be the employer of choice. But when that potential is being hacked away at from the inside it could make anyone cry.

Last night Comedy Central aired the roast of William Shatner and I don't think I have stopped laughing. I will not give away any of the jokes, save for the most perfect joke of the evening. Well, perfect for Trek fans any way. Why no one else thought of this before is amazing. I am kicking myself for not thinking of it myself.

To George Takei: George, when you came out of the closet did the doors make that whoosh sound?

Simple. Perfect. Obvious......to us geeks. Classic!

I am dying to talk to George. I have know for years that he has a superb sense of humor and he was just rocking last night. I have my own joke about his coming out that I have been waiting to clear with him before I start using it "openly". I have hesitated out of respect for him and our friendship. I wasn't sure how he would take it. After last night's roast....my joke comes off as tame.

The only disappointment in the evening was that Jimmy Doohan was not there to rip Shatner a huge one! Jimmy had been bashing Shatner on the convention circuit 25 years ago and was hilarious. If he had been able to be there and be as rowdy and bawdy as the others were....it would have made the evening.

Another Talent Show over and done with and it was great as usual. This year I was the emcee which made it a whole different experience for me. The cumulative effect is that performing is something I should be doing rather than being cramped into a cubicle. Odd thing is, that its being cramped in a cubicle that opened the door for me to try doing standup like this.

We had a smaller cast than previous years but as usual every one stepped up tot he plate and whit a live audience there to feed on everyone gave their best possible performances.

Instead of my just having a 5 - 7 set I had a small set to open the show and then peppered the rest of the evening with little jokes and one liners. Given my history of telling jokes about the company no one else has the gonads to say outloud I opened the show with an bit of a Billy Crystal rip-off. Our company President came out and welcomed everyone and then announced that I would be the emcee but that the management had some restrictions on me. At that point I was rolled out on a hand truck a la the "Silence of the Lambs" opening Billy did at the Oscars one year. I was wearing my psych ward t-shirt and had a Hannibal Lechter mask on. It got a huge laugh. Our company President loved playing along with the bit.

John is here this weekend, so he finally got to see him father perform on stage. He seemed to like it. Although he may have been slightly distracted as he has spent lots of time this weekend with my friend's daughter, Kaitlyn. She is his age and they have met before. Their first few meetings were not filled with much conversation at all. This weekend has been different. They had made plans over the last few days and are still making plans to squeeze in more time together before he goes home.

It is an interesting feeling watching my son being all smooth around a girl. Pride is the most overwhelming of the feelings. To see him putting on his best game and a girl looking back at him enjoying the game he's putting on.

"Yessir! That's MY boy!"

I have come to another dry spell in my blogging. Actually, it seems to be a part of a whole general mood I am in lately. Work is tough lately. Income from work is down even more. The household budget is tighter. My stepson Jim was here for a week and left a virus in the PC behind and has left his own home for a few days ...I could write a whole series on what he had been through lately. I have pulled back a little from Stephany after a week of falling back into old habits.

It's been an interesting couple of weeks.

I am going to try to catch you up on each piece of the puzzle in the next few posts. All of it has settled on me in something of a funk. Not a full blown depression but just a basic mood where I go through the motions most days. I get stuff done and do have fun most of the time but if I had my druthers, I'd just lounge around the house all day if I could.

Any my blogging suffers because of it. I don't feel like writing. And if I do I have usually put it off till last thing of the day and by the time I sit down at the PC it time for bed.

Speaking of which, I do have the company talent show tomorrow and I am the Emcee this year. I will have that to post about anyway. So keep checking in, I promise to get back in the swing of things really soon.

Give Mel Gibson a break.

He was drunk off his ass and blathering like a fool. I have had nights like that where I have been drunk off my ass and blathering like a fool. There were many occasions when I would have to have details of the night repeated to me; complete conversations and hours of time replayed for me because I had completely no recollection of the events. They all seemed as if they happened to someone else because they were not a part of my memory of the evening. I'm sure Mel felt the same way last Friday morning. And I'm sure he said the exact same words I said on those occasions,

"Holy shit! I did what?"

He will continue to be a good actor. He will continue to be a good director. The only difference is now he is someone I would love to hang out with in a bar.

“Humanitarian aid in the U.S. has begun arriving in Lebanon. The U.S. Government sent 10,000 medical kits, 20,000 blankets, $30 million cash and today the people of New Orleans said: ‘They did what?‘”-Jay Leno


Just another thing to ponder if you were stupid enough to have voted for George W in the last election.

John is here for the weekend and we started off tonight with some bonding over music. As he is maturing so is his tastes in music. Now that he has gotten his first guitar and is learning how to play his interests in music have begun to turn to some of the greats in rock music; some of my favorites and this gives us more of a chance to bond. I have seen him through all different tastes in music as he has grown; from boy bands to hip hop and rap.

As part of his education I sat him down to watch part of the 1985 Live Aid concert when Queen took the stage. I'm not sure if it was Queen or Kiss that was my first rock concert but Queen has always been one of my favorites. I saw them two or three times in concert and there was no one else who could take an audience with the control the Freddy Mercury had. And to see him work his magic on the tens of thousands in Wembeley Stadium is still staggering 21 years later. I got chills as I watched Freddy strut across the stage. My eyes welled up as the audience played right along with him at his slightest whim. I remembered the experiences I had of seeing him in concert. And then I got pissed off at him again for dying.

Some of the best talents of our time seemed to have had this fated life. They burned with such intensity that it was almost a certain thing they would never last forever. Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison were the products of their time. James Dean and Ritchie Valens were unfortunate accidents. John Belushi and Chris Farley were victims of their own excesses.

But Freddy had to have known the chances he was taking. I joked with John, seeing Freddy with his slicked back hair and trimmed moustache, that no one was really surprised when the news of his illness was announced. "Oh, yeah...well Freddy's gay". No shock. And I don't know the details of when he learned he was sick but the way it played out was that he had become sick long after the threat of AIDS had surfaced. Everyone was talking about it and it had gone from being a disease about which there was no information to one that could be avoided and dealt with as a part of the gay lifestyle. Freddy had to have known the risks he was taking but he seemed to continue to take them and he ended up paying the ultimate price. It was such a monumental waste of a talented life. And I still get pissed off at Freddy for dying.

At least there is still footage of him like Live Aid. When you can watch a master at work. To see the intensity in his eyes and hear the power of his voice. Just a shame John will never experience it the way I did.

Damn it, Freddy. Why you?

So much has happened in the past week that it is somewhat hard to put into words. First of all let me reassure any of you who know me well enough, that I DO have a handle on this. While I would like things to go a certain way I know they might not and I'm OK with that. I have helped a friend in a time of dire need and that is the bottom line. Friends here and those of you who have posted are shaking heads and wishing they could slap me in the back of mine. But I do have a handle on this.

Stephany was VERY sick and while there were friends and family there to help I helped her through some of the roughest parts. She still has a tough time ahead of her in trying to give up smoking but she seems to have the desire to do so.

Where do she and I stand? That is very much up in the air. We had a long talk the other night and I laid it out plain and simple for her, "This is the boyfriend you could have had!" I told her that I realize that we may have grown closer in the past week but she has many things to work through. When she feels she has a better handle on where she is in her life, we can talk about how I fit into that.

How am I dealing with this? Pretty well, actually. I have put a lot of how I feel about her to the side until she approaches me to talk about it. I am still her friend and will help her as much as I can. But there are things in my life which have been put aside in the past few weeks that I need to attend to and for my own emotional well being I have to keep the deep emotions I have to the side.

Do I want thing to change between us? Would I like her to finally realize the potential I see? Yes. But my life cannot and will not be on hold while that possibility dangles in front of it. I have and will reminded her from time to time with a joke or two. Time will tell.

Is it screwed up? Am I crazy? Should I never have gone to help her? Am I really being honest about my feelings? I ask myself these questions all the time as do those around me.

Again, time will tell.

My baby is 15 years old today.

I called him first thing this morning to wish him a happy birthday and I would swear that his voice is deeper than it was two days ago when I talked with him last. I know it's just my imagination playing tricks on me but just the idea that he is 15 years old does that to me.

I have not been staying at my place the past few nights. When I got home from taking John back to his mother's Sunday night there was a message from very sick friend. My friend ended up so sick that I left works Monday to help out. My friend is a smoker and on top of already having bronchitis has just developed asthma and was in the throws of the very first asthma attack ever. I have been able to calm my friend and teach some relaxation and breathing tricks to help get through. My friend also has some anxiety issues which feed into the stress of the asthma attack and only make things worse.

Oh? My friend. You can shake you head like everyone else around here.....

Stephany.

I have to get back to her place as I have been taking the "night shift" taking care of her through the night and giving other family and friends a break.





OK, stop shaking your head.


I will go more into detail on this and how I am coping when things have died down and I have a chance to really digest how I am feeling.


Stop shaking your head at me!!!!

Apparently, you should not blog when you're on cold medication. Thanks to Lisa for reminding me of the down side to this past weekend at Shore Leave; the redecorating at the Marriott Hunt Valley Inn. I don't know what kind of drugs the management was on when they decided to redecorate but they must have been very illegal and very cheap because the result was worse than some of the hairpeices Burt Reynolds wore during the 90's.

The Hunt Valley Inn was originally designed to resemble a hunting lodge. The McCormick family had it built to serve as a hotel to serve the business needs of the family-run spice company which was headquartered nearby. It is sprawling and spacious with dark and warm color schemes, exposed rafters and loaded with inviting spaces. The lobby welcomed you as if you were walking into someone's home. The lounge between there and the restaurant looked like a living room.

Now these areas, in an apparent attempt to look like every other hotel in the world, looks as if they hired a mad movie set designer and told them to create an airport lounge. The lobby is awash in bright indirect lighting and centerpieced with what looks like a bank teller counter. The comfortable and cozy furniture of the lounge is now replaced with a highbacked set of demented art deco style semi-circular couches which have turned a communal gathering place into four "cells" from which you have to stretch and strain to see the rest of the room.

And then there's the bar....

The Paddock Bar is gone. This was also once in keeping with the open inviting feel of the rest of the hotel with comfortable chairs and delicate lighting but has now been replaced with ten-ton metal high backs and Christmas tree lighting. Atop the bar itself are these two....I guess art pieces, which look sea anemone. Also gone are the themed art pieces which kept with the hunting lodge theme of the hotel. Since the theme is gone, so is the name. The Paddock Bar is now the Cinn Bar. I've looked....CINN is nowhere in the dictionary. It's hip...it's trendy...it sucks!

I understand that after some time redecoration does have to happen. Things wear out, paint fades and styles change. For 20-some odd years I have been coming to this hotel for Shore Leave and part of the draw has been the hotel. While most hotels look like every other hotel on the planet the Hunt Valley Inn was unique. Now it looks like Joe's Hotel. It looks like they hired a mentally challenged Feng Shui consultant because this designer Feng-ed up all over the place.

All of the elements they were trying to add to the hotel have been crammed into the space and physical architecture of the building itself. It all stands out too much and does not blend in at all with its surroundings. The Christmas tree lights are fit in between the exposed rafters. The sea grass grown from old style brick planters and small uncomfortable furniture tries to fill large rooms.

The worst example of what was wrong with the redesign has got to be the carpets. Some of the original remains but in certain areas and, like other elements of the redesign, crammed into small panels in high traffic areas are designs of bright gaudy and conflicting color schemes. It looks as it the designed took a handful of fluorescent colored crayons and simply started scribbling. One design is an odd set of circles done in reds, yellows, greens and oranges. I think one of the reasons I came home sick from this year's convention was due to an allergic reaction to the carpets!

It wasn't just me either. The redesign was universally panned the entire weekend. It was mentioned by the stars and got mentions during the masquerade and the Sunday night entertainment. It is probably tilting against windmills to expect that the Marriott company would really listen to the complaints and change things back but I hope those who said they were going to complain do and that some reaction is heard from management. All I want them to know is that they have made a serious mistake and forever ruined what was once a unique and beautiful hotel.

This is the first chance I have had to post about my annual trip to Shore Leave because I came home with an unplanned souvenir; a cold. It started Monday morning as we were leaving with a scratchy throat and has yet to give up residence with a runny nose and clogged chest. I would have rather had the t-shirt.

Other than that it was a wonderful weekend. Wrapped around the usual fun of Shore Leave was the 20th Anniversary Reunion of the USS McAuliffe. If you haven't seen references to the McA in my posts then you haven't been reading closely enough. These are friends of mine for, well....the past 20 years and a gathering was planned at this years con. Shore Leave was always a major road trip for everyone in the Boston area, so it seemed the logical place for a get together.

This year it was only my friend, Cheryl, my son and I traveling from Florida and this year we opted to fly. It did make for a easier trip although I did miss the stop at South of the Border. There is always next year.

Friday morning had us rested and ready for a day of sightseeing in Washington, DC. We headed first to Arlington Cemetery. Neither John nor Cheryl had ever been there so I enjoyed sharing it with them. Being there with my son was we approached the Kennedy gravesite brought back memories of a similar trip with my father. He really enjoyed watching the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns.

After leaving there we tried in vain to locate the "Exorcist Stairs" in Georgetown. Not an easy thing in the one part of DC with which I am not that familiar. It did give the both of them a chance to see parts of the city they had not seen.

The highlight of the day was finally making it to John Eaton Elementary School in Cleveland Park. For the past three years I have been trying to get there and it was certainly worth the wait. Seeing the pictures on the internet was one ting but to actually pull up in front of a large brick building with my own name in bronze on the front....I laughed out loud.

We first took some photos outside and then entered the hallowed halls. Maria, the Business Manager was all smiles as we walked in. She quickly introduced our tour guides, 10 year old Grecia and 8 year old Amanda. These two girls took us through almost every single room and closet in the building. They politely answered all of our questions about the school and told us which rooms were theirs and where things went in each room and shortcuts from one part of the school to the other. They were adorable. They had a problem getting their minds wrapped around the concept that both my son and I had the same names. Still, they were impressed enough that we had the same name as their school. We posed for more pictures and then were presented with books on the school and t-shirts. John got the really cool one with a picture of the school on it. Mine just says, "Eaton"; as if I have problems remembering my own last name.

Not only was the Boston crowd there but my old pal Lisa was there. She travels each year with a groups of her friends from upstate New York. She is one of my dearest friends. Which is why I let her believe I was not attending this year. Actually, at one point I almost wasn't until a friend came to my rescue. Still, in time honored Shore Leave tradition this trick is regularly pulled on someone. This was Lisa's turn.

As always, the convention itself is secondary to spending the weekend with friends. However, guests this year included a number of actors from "Stargate" and my favorite from "Farscape, Gigi Hedgley. From the "old school" crowd, which I always enjoy seeing, were William Schallert and Kent McCord. My father would have loved the fact that I got to meet Kent McCord. Adam-12 was one of the shows we always watched together. Adam-12 is also a childhood favorite of John's stepfather and we had a little bit of fun with that. John has a cell phone with a camera built in which we used to take a photo of the two of them together. We then emailed it to his stepfather's cell phone while he was out on patrol.

The first three nights were filled with parties and drinking. In the past I have held this at bay when John has been along but he's a year older now, was asleep for most of it and I did have a broken heart to sanitize with the alcohol. Not that I've gotten as intoxicated as I have in the past but there was that one embarrassing moment when a friend of mine reminded me of part of the evening I couldn't recall....with John standing right there to hear the whole story.

Ahhh, chalk up another childhood memory added!!!!

All in all a great weekend as always and we begin the countdown to next year. I have posted photos from the trip here.

Well, I'm single again.

I don't even know where to start on how this whole thing unraveled except to say that Stephany had a whole bushelful of issues going on that made a relationship next to impossible. I tried holding on as long as I could and eventually she is the one who pulled the plug.

But we'll get to that in a moment.

The major issue is her family. There is the oddest of family dynamic going on in which control of the family is exerted by her grandparents. She seems terrified of upsetting her grandparents over topics such as her smoking, length of her hair and people she dates. Now the family is preparing to move out of Florida and Stephany is compelled to go with them. She can't fathom being apart from them so much so that she would sacrifice a relationship, with me or anyone, in order to stay with her family. Michael Corleone wasn't as obsessed with his family as she is. She has no sense of her own self worth or self identity. It's sad really and I have told her as much.

Then, there was the way she ended things. Saturday night we were on he phone late. As we talked. I could hear the clacking of the keys on her PC. No problem, I multi-task all the time. When we finally hung up I walked the 7 steps from the phone to the computer and there was an email waiting for me.

Hey what's up? well not to much here just chillin and talking to you on the phone- anyway I know you have been wondering what's going on between us- well I have been thinking about it and I need to find myself- I'm not ready to be with anyone right now- like I told you in the beginning I am known to hurt people and that's the last thing i wanted to do to you.

The immense noise made by my heart being ripped out was deafening. I tried calling her but, of course, she didn't pick up the phone. The next day we exchanged a few emails and did eventually talk on the phone. I still tried to reason with her. It wasn't until I talked to her face to face at work on Monday when I could see in her eyes that her mind, as screwed up as it was, had been made up.

I have been through the remorse, hurt, and anger. Right now it is sadness. Not only for the potential I saw in the relationship but for the outlook she has on life. For someone that young to be closing herself off to life is really sad. The worst part is that she doesn't see it. It was only 9 weeks out of my life and it was good while it lasted. We learn from each person we meet in life and boy did I get an education in this one.

The biggest lesson I learned is that I have got some wonderful friends around me. They let me walk the tightrope I was on and when the time was right told me I was about to fall. They offered a safety net. They also were good enough to shake the tightrope at times to let me know just how dangerous a situation I was in. They let me make an ass out of myself and let me run with my emotions as far as I wanted. And now that's it's over they are patient and understanding as I put myself back together again.

Thanks Tracy and Patrick.

Onward and upward. There's rumor there are possibly two or three other women at work who might actually be interested!

Wow! All of a sudden...I'm a player!

Here is my new ride. It ain't pimped out. It ain't no Bluesmobile or Shuttlecraft....BUT IT RUNS!!!!!!!!!



A 1989 Pontiac Bonneville. I'm told "her" name is Bessie but now that "she's" my car we'll have to see if the personality develops.

On drinving the car for the first time I did honor a long time tradition I follow with all my cars....I threw the cigarette lighter out the window.

If you don't get the reference, watch the first ten minuets of "The Blues Brothers".

He looks so good.

He was such a nice guy.

I didn't even know he was sick.

These are all of the usual things you hear at a funeral. You can begin practicing saying all of these things about me because I am, apparently, dead.

I called my answering machine today to check messages when I got the following:

"I am calling in reference to the estate of the LATE JOHN EATON......."

Needless to say, I was taken aback by the news. I was immediately reminded of the MASH episode when Hawkeye is mistaken for dead. My situation , however, is nothing as drastic. This is simply a ploy by a bill collector to get me to call. I am supposed to become all upset and worried calling the number left on my machine to correct the error. The conversation would the go:

"Well, if you're not dead, Mr. Eaton, you can send us the money you owe us."

Needless to say, I have not called them back. However, I am planning a quite lavish wake. What the hell, I might as well enjoy this one.

Proof of how important genetics is, a recent phone conversation between my son and me.

John; Hello.

Jack: Hi, how are you?

John: OK.

Jack: Guess what.

John: What?

Jack: I beat ya'!

John: What the heck are you talking about, Dad?

Jack: I got a girlfriend before you did!

Silence for two seconds

John: Bite me!

Most parents would be upset and offended of their child spoke back to them in such a manner. Not me....this was yet another fine moment in Eaton Family History!

It is now official.

I have a girlfriend.

Things have continued to go well over the past few weeks with Stephany. However, through all of it I was haunted by a slight sense of insecurity. There were what I interpreted as mixed messages and occasional moments where I felt that she was going out of her way to make things difficult for us to be together. But through all of it she continued to send positive feedback to me on how things were going and would say things which made it feel more and more that we were in a relationship. I finally decided that the cards had to be laid on the table. Many of our conversations because there were things I wanted to say to her but did not feel right without some declaration of what kind of a relationship we actually had.

The evening started out with plans for dinner. As usual, these plans were interrupted and changed at the last moment due to family concerns. I fought my insecurities I'd been battling for the past few weeks but this time won them over as we did finally end up with time alone.

Under a starlit night we walked down a fishing pier and talked. Well, I did the talking. I stuttered and stammered through what I had been practicing for days. I had even brought notes and even had to refer to them from time to time. I wondered if it was cute and endearing or pathetic. Well, when I finally got to the bottom line it seemed as if I had steered away from pathetic as Stephany agreed with what I was saying. She said she also felt things had been going well with us.

Then silence. There seemed to be words I was still looking to hear. I decided to go with cute and endearing again.

"So...?" I asked as I leaned against her shoulder and in a bad impression of Goofy said, "Can I be yer boyfriend?"

She laughed first and said, "Yes."

SHE SAID YES!!!!!!!!!

If I could freeze that moment and hold it I would. My heart seemed to stop. The world seemed to halt its rotation. All there was in the universe at that moment were Stephany and me on that pier.

I have been accused by many for falling into relationships fast so I am not going to admit to that in this case or give into any far flung hopes for this relationship now that it is official. All I will admit to is what I promised Stephany; to be something I might not have been in the past, a better partner. To make her happy and to make her proud. We'll take it one step at a time.

These first steps do feel pretty good so far.

Most of the day today I must seem to be distracted to anyone who sees me. That is because I have a little movie playing in my head which is replaying the date Stephany and I went on last night. It was the first time we were on a date by ourselves. We've spent countless hours on the phone and did get out last weekend, but this was just us.

Perfect.

We went to a restaurant down by the waterfront. We were seating on the covered deck where we could see the lights of the causeway reflecting on the intercoastal waterway. It might not sound postcard perfect but the setting, the sounds of the water and the light ocean breeze added to the whole affect.

The place was crowded and a steel drum band kept played outside. Of course, I didn't notice it much as all I could see in the entire restaurant was her. I don't know if I was trying to be cute or just stupid with anxiety, but I used a reference to an earlier conversation as a way of asking to hold her hand. When her hand touched mine the size of the universe seemed to get even smaller. She commented on how soft me hand was. I kept the conversation going even though I was still in shock that I was the person sitting there holding her hand.

After dinner we took a walk on the beach holding hands. Nothing else I could think of felt so right. We talked and laughed the whole time I was burning every second of the evening into my brain. The way the breeze lifted her hair and how the moonlight shaded her face.

After being driven off by sand fleas we came back to my place for a little while. I showed her some old photos of me and some of Johnny's baby pictures. You may roll your eyes at this but after she left I called her and talked to her while she drove back to her apartment. She has a slight anxiety problem with driving at night. Well, that and it allows me to be the geeky boyfriend spending more countless hours on the phone with her. We have NEVER had one of those "You hang up first" moments so it's not as bad as you might first think.

I still find it amazing that I'm even in this position. Every once in a while during the evening I would look around to make sure Ashton Kutcher was just about to come around a corner telling me I'd been Punk'd. I had to keep making reality checks to be sure I wasn't imagining things.

So far, no Ashton; but I've stopped watching "That 70's Show" just in case.

OK, let's get some of the humor out of the way; here is a sampling of some of the better jokes which have gone around about Stephany and me.

My friend, Patrick, left the following note on my desk:
I just wanted to let you know that an Amber Alert had been issued for your department.

I was on the phone with my friend Sandy who, after laughing at the situation got very serious and began offering some honest encouragement....well, at first anyway, she put a new spin on an old joke:
"Jack, It is nice that you have a young girl like her that is interested. We all want you to be happy. I hope this works out for you....I just hope you don;t forget where you put her."

Even I have gotten into the act pointing out that being in a relationship with me should be nothing new for Stephany because her last job was at an Assisted Living Home.

The best, by far, was my "good friend" Lisa. I started telling her how Steph and I had met and that we had met at work and she was always smiling at me. I told her that since it had been a long time that I had been dating I had to remember that smiling was a good sign. To which she answered, "Yeah, but at this age you can't tell is she's really smiling or if it's just gas!"

That's what friends are for!

Welcome to Year 44!

Today was my birthday and it had got to be one of my best yet. Yes, there have been good ones in the past. There have been some I probably wished I didn't even exist of them pale to today because of one person.

Stephany.

Stephany and I have been seeing each other and talking for two weeks now. Our relationship has yet to be defined as "boyfriend/girlfriend" but is directly on track to being such. She is beautiful, smart, funny and has a smile that makes me weak in the knees.

I had seen her around the office and asked questions of mutual friends. She was always friendly; saying "Hello" and smiling. I finally got up the nerve to say something and gave her my number. Two hours later SHE CALLED ME. This I took as a good sign. We were then on the phone for almost three hours. Again, something I took as a good sign.

The past two weeks have been filled with countless hours on the phone, lunch and break time together at work and emails back and forth during the day. However, we have yet to have a date with it being just the two of us. She has some family concerns and a roommate problem which have either landed us with a third wheel or completely unable to time things just right.

That has been aggravating at times but those times have been balanced with some of the most open and honest conversations I have ever had. In a recent conversation I innocently asked if there was any question she wanted to ask me; anything she wanted to know about me. It took her a day to come up with just how to word what she wanted to say but when she did I could have done backflips. SHE asked ME where I saw things headed between us. All I was expecting was a question about something in my life she wanted to know and she hits me with the one question I have been asking myself for days.

I have been waiting to post anything about her until I knew things were on the right track. Oh, yeah....the other reason I haven't posted.....fear. I know some of you, my friends, so well that I knew there would be an onslaught of jokes. Why?

Stephany is 24 years old.

Almost from the moment I handed her my number I have been hearing the jokes from those who know. Most have been very funny and I have made as few as well. Steph laughs at them as well. Between us, the age difference makes no difference at all. And I love a good joke and encourage some of them. I also figure; hell, joke all you want....I'M DATING A 24 YEAR OLD!!!!!!

Even my son could not resist getting in on the abuse. We had lunch together over the weekend. After she had left I asked John what he thought. He said he thought she was pretty and fun to be around. Then he stopped and raised his eyebrows at me and said, "But gee, Dad....how old is she?" I asked again, "C'mon, do we make a good looking couple or does it look like visiting day at the home?" He never answered but laughed with a big grin on his face.

Today I had the second portion of my interview process trying to transfer to the corporate training department where I work. Last week I had the actual interview. At the close of that interview I was given a video tape with the instructions to make a 30 minuet presentation, or class, on the topic of the tape.

For the most part it went pretty well. Any mistakes or missteps I felt I had made along the way went off like fireworks in my head; I felt like a deer in the headlights each time the "screwed up" alarm went off in my head. I did my best to keep the ball in the air and kept the lecture going. I am sure the mistakes were exaggerated in my mind and some of them may have gone completely unnoticed my those in the "class".

I did come away with one positive impression of the presentation upon which I am pinning my hopes. Right at the end of the class there was an actual discussion,debate and sharing of ideas on the major concept I was putting forward. It had turned from a mock lecture to an actual classroom for a moment. They had actually heard what I was saying and I was getting my point across.

There are some others interviewing for the position and I might not know for a while. In some ways this waiting is the more nerve wracking part of the process.

As if my episode with the fuel gauge wasn't enough....

Part of the delay in getting my van fixed, while tied to the repairs themsevles with finances, is simply getting the van to the salvage yard who is supposed to work on getting it running again. This place is about 15 miles north of here. I am using this place thanks to a connection with a police officer friend of mine; I get to use his "Blue Discount".

Since my AAA had expired in February I was stuck in trying to find an alternate method of towing. At the times when my budget allowed for both a two and the repairs, I first tried "borrowing" a AAA from a friend. However; all of hers were used up. I got one offer to tow the van for $50. Seeing this as expensive, I planned on getting a car carrier from U-Haul; my only hurdle with that was finding someone with a ball joint hitch.

Just when I was about to ask a neighbor I started doing the math. In the last year I burned through all four of my AAA tows. For $25 more than I was offered to actually tow the van I could have the peace of mind of renewing my own AAA membership. Seemed a rational conclusion, I thought.

So, this morning I called AAA to renew. This confused the representative on the other end of the phone, "Sir, you have auto-pay. Your membership doesn't expire until February 2007. Your membership hasn't lapsed."

DUHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I thanked her and turned to tell my co-worker who had been giving me numerous rides to work over the past few months and offered to let her use my own gun if she wanted to shoot me.

Tomorrow the van heads to the mechanic.

I am going to the pharmacy to get some Ginko Biloba.

Just some ramblings about TV.......

It sucks the "Commander in Chief" was pulled off the TV schedule. OK, it was no "West Wing" but it was really getting good. Speaking of "West Wing", the episode dealing with Leo McGarry's funeral was a bit of a let down. I was anticipating this being Martin Sheen's Emmy consideration episode. It was quite something to see him carrying the casket but I was waiting for something of a tribute episode and the funeral turned out being the secondary storyline. The finale should be a kicker!

I only watched "What About Brian" because JJ Abrhams' name was attached. It turned out being pretty good; OK, something of a "thirtysomething" update but still good. But I am perplexed how they can have a season finale after only little more than a half dozen episodes!

It was disappointing the "Thief" didn't end up hooking viewers. By the time they pulled off the heist at the end I had turned into a regular viewer but, according to ratings, more than half of the audience that watched the pilot dropped off on the 2nd episode. They missed a pretty decent show.

I also read where "Over There" also suffered in the ratings and may not return. Too bad...good show.

"The Unit" is getting better and better. While I miss Dennis Haysbert on "24" this is a perfect show for him.

Why doesn't Paramount take all it's Trek and put it on one channel? Start an all Trek channel! There is plenty of episodic programming. Then add in the movies; maybe even feature some of the good internet stuff being produced. Maybe some original programming, interview shows....

Oh, wait! That's what the Sci-Fi channel used to be!

As I sat in the movie theatre yesterday watching "Mission Impossible III" I first thought I was hearing sound bleeding in from the theatre next door. It continued for five minutes or so with a voice somehow muffled and indistinguishable.

It continued for more than fifteen minutes and seemed somehow closer to me, but still completely unintelligible. Then I looked over to the end of the row where I sat. There was a woman with two little children. (Don't even get me started about the kids!) She was talking on her cell phone and this little chat of hers was closing in on twenty minutes. That she was talking wasn't bad enough but it was in Creole. That is not a racist comment, simply that the conversation itself was distracting but being in another language made it more of a distraction.

I finally had enough. Just like I will return food to the kitchen of a restaurant I also have no patience for ignorant people in the movie theatre. "Is the movie interrupting your phone call?" I asked.

"No," she said and went right back to talking on the phone.

I stood in shock that this simple confrontation didn't result in an immediate apology and shutting down of her phone. "You are distracting all these people around you."

Silence.

I headed for the lobby and one of the duly deputized teenagers wearing the crisp and snappy Regal Theatres uniform. Of course, by the time we returned, she had turned the phone off and was sitting there thoroughly entranced in the movie. As I sat back in my seat I could see the usher speaking with her. I don't know what was said but did see him make another round walking by her later in the movie.

The loudmouth never did confront me after the movie but two people came up to me an congratulated me for doing what I had done. I didn't have the heart to tell them that I had been thrown out of a Jerry Lewis Movie Theatre thirty years ago for throwing candy at Godzilla.

Hmmmm...did my last post mention something about becoming an old fart?!

Home Sickness Tour 2006

I spent this weekend on a quick trip through New England. I had gone first to attend the Region 15 Summit in Saybrook, New Hampshire. This is the annual gathering of Starfleet chapters in the area. Since our Fleet admiral had just given birth I was invited as a member of the Executive Committee. I will admit going on someone else’s dime is fun!

Jet Blue is now my preferred airline. Leather seats, lots of legroom and the little TV’s for every seat make the trip easy, comfortable and quick. I found it interesting how a few months make a difference. On my last trip to Birmingham I was concerned about Homeland Security and terrorists; this flight was proof that I've been watching "Lost" too much. As I watched each person taking their seat on this flight I kept imagining how they all might fit into the plan of surviving on a deserted island, the different alliances that would sprout up

On the flight up there the pangs of homesickness began as we flew over Manhattan. I could easily pick out some of my favorite landmarks and just to see the city after almost 8 years was thrill enough. It got worse as we got closer to Boston. I craned my neck to try to see Warwick but was happy enough to get a bird’s eye view of Providence.

The summit was great. I met a bunch of great people, all of which seem to share the same sense of humor as most of my friends. I made some good new friends on this trip. It was the usual sort of gathering, although there was not the usual level of alcohol intake as most of my sci-fi weekends. That did not, however, take away from how much fun I had.

Sunday was the busiest day. The summit wrapped up around noon, I was dropped off at South Station in Boston for a bus ride to Providence. Two of nieces picked me up to head to a retirement party for the friend of mine who has been director of Camp Aldersgate; the summer camp where I used to be a counselor. This was a last minuet change but since I was so close I just had to be there for Jeffrey. He had no idea that either I or my niece Cheryl, who flew in from Las Vegas, were going to be there. The shocked look on his face when he spotted us was worth the extra cost of changing my flight at the last minuet.

Being in camp again was very emotional. I had spent 10 years as a counselor. My first wedding reception was held in the Great Hall. It was my refuge during various rough times in my life. After I got the chance to talk with Jeffrey and his family I walked down to the edge of the lake and took it all in. Memories were everywhere; good and bad and I savored each one. While I didn't have time to walk as far into the camp as I wanted I did go through the Retreat Center itself. Each room held ghosts of my past. I touched walls, chairs and bunks. Each one connecting me with different part of my life. Each moment as vivid and as real as if they happened that day.

My memory failed me though moments later. As I walked through the crowd back in the Great Hall a young man in his twenties walked up to me with a big smile and said, "Hi, Jack! How are you?!" He could see I had no clue who he was. "I was one of your campers years ago." I could hear my arteries hardening. He did say that his best summer at camp was the year I was his counselor. That sentiment added to everything I was feeling being there.

I went back to my sister's after that while I waited for my friend Maria to pick me up to bring me back to Boston for the night. Before we left I asked Maria to indulge me with a ride around the city. We tried getting Narragansett beer but got to the liquor store minutes after it closed. 'Gansett has only recently been returned to being brewed after a twenty year absence. Not the best beer in the world, but I had to have some. Maybe next trip. I took a photo of the Sci-Fi Channel's "Ghost Hunters" headquarters which is a store front right next door to Warwick City Hall. Then we drove through Oakland Beach. My cousin Mark pointed out years ago the genetically designed reaction to anyone who was brought up in that neighborhood. "You're never really home until you drive through the beach," he would always say; and it's true.

It was a good thing that Maria was driving or I would have been arrested for trespassing. We drove by my old house. The adrenalin rush of going by there was the mixed with nausea and anger as I saw the neglect of the current owner. In the front of MY house were four neatly trimmed hedges; now two of them can only be described as TREES reaching well past the second story. If I had been driving I probably would have stopped, jumped the fence (another abomination added by the person my mother sold the house to) and trimmed them with my own teeth! And still, 16 years after my mother sold the house, there is the monogram letter "E" on the front storm door. And my father thought I was lazy!

All through this trip I took in every inch of my surroundings; comparing how things had changed and how much had remained the same. One odd reaction I had felt similar to returning to your elementary school when you're an adult; it all looks the same but somehow smaller.

My friends Bismo, Maria and Howard all got together at Stone's Public House for a night of food, beer and blues. What a cool place. It is always good being with these old friends, but I didn’t realize just how old we were until I noticed that Howard and Bill were trading health stories back and forth. Illness, aches, pains, surgeries, tests and doctors visits were being traded back and forth faster than a Joyner sister tennis ball. I raised my glass and toasted, "We are now officially old farts!"

You've heard of karma, right?

The next morning, a mere four hours before my flight was scheduled to return me to Florida, I was in Bill bathroom when I turned and pulled a muscle in my back. So, here I am; wet, naked and bent over in pain. The universe has a perverse sense of humor.

With the help of many ibuprofen and a cane I was able to limp my way from Bill’s to the car and through Logan airport to my plane. Not entirely comfortable, but I was able to get around. Was this another sign that I should really be in New England? Was my body telling me not to go back to Florida?

No, my body was telling me that I was, in fact, an old fart.

Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

These words came to mind as I was reading two stories important to Science Fiction fans over the past few days.

The good news in the first story is the Rick Berman, the Anti-Christ of Trek fandom, is stepping apparently stepping aside from creative control of the franchise he has run into the ground for JJ Abrhams of "Alias", Lost" and "Mission Impossible III". While the details of where he is taking the franchise are unclear the initial stories leave me a little unsettled.

He is, supposedly, reviving the "Starfleet Academy" story. This will follow Kirk, Spock and other original series characters during their plebeian days in San Francisco. This idea sucked 15 years ago when Harve Bennet proposed it and it still sucks today. The original characters didn't even know each other at the academy and to out them together would screw with established history. There are so many other directions the show could go and this seems like the least original concept out there.

Also, "Lost" has faltered in its second season so my trust in him as a producer is a little shaken. J. Michael Straznisky (Babylon 5) has shown interest and I'm sure he could revitalize Trek the same way Ron Moore has turned "Battlestar Galactica" into one of the nest dramas on TV.

And speaking of BSG; there is a story that the Sci-Fi Channel is developing a spin off series called "Caprica". It will be set more than 50 years prior to the events of BSG when humankind's Twelve Colonies are at peace and on the verge of a technological breakthrough: the first Cylon.

Hasn't Ron Moore learned from Trek what happens when you go to the well one to many times? Wouldn't it make better sense to work on the one fantastic project and devote all the writing and producing resources to keep BSG at the high level it has set for itself instead of stretching the concept thinner and thinner? Give us one really good show to watch instead of two or three mediocre ones?

Oh, but wait....what was that good news in all this?

BERMAN IS GONE!!!!

Maybe it ain't all bad after all.

Apparently all of the bees in Florida congregate in the wooded area just west of where I live. I found this out today as I headed out for my walkabout to get mail and a few extras. This area is adjacent to the dunes along side the rail road tracks I daily walk to meet my ride to work.

My usual trail was blocked by trees fallen either by storms or impending development. As I walked along a different path I started hearing a heavy whine. This grew and grew. At first I thought it might be traffic off in the distance as it sounded similar to the sound of tires on heavy asphalt. It grew louder and seemed to come from overhead sounding like one of those lawnmower engines that power the small ultra-light flying machines that are common around here. As I looked up to spot the gas powered parachute I found the bees.

Some were close to the size of ping pong balls and cast clear and distinct shadows on the soft sand below. I didn't stop to count them but the word swarm quickly came to mind. As I have mentioned before, I have a strong primal fear of stinging insects so the deep seated caveman in me took over and I fled.

"Don't bother them and they won't bother you!"

"Don't bother them and they won't bother you!"

I repeated this mantra over and over as I double timed it towards the nearest signs of civilization. There were times I did not complete the sentence in its entirety as the buzzing of a divebombing bee caused my heart to stop momentarily. I swear the little bastards could smell the fear on me. Just like the cats who can spot an asthmatic a mile off and just have to come up and nuzzle up close and climb all over you so you can breath in the allergens these sadistic anthropods probably got together afterwards in the hive, sucked back some honey and high-fiving each other saying, "Man, we really made that fat bastard run!"

Given that it was near 90 degrees today, the path I was on was steep at times on a mix of soft sand and dirt and the abnormal amount of fear induced adrenalin in my blood; I got my workout today.

A piece of my childhood fell into Narragansett Bay today.



At 10:45AM the "old" Jamestown Bridge was demolished with a volley of explosives which dropped the center span of the bridge into the waters below. With it went childhood memories, teenage paranoia and a practical joke at the hands of the master, my father.

For those of you not from Rhode Island, the Jamestown Bridge spanned the distance from North Kingstown to Jamestown across Narragansett Bay. From Oakland Beach, where I grew up, you could clearly see the bridge silhouetted against the southern sky. At night the bridge was lined with a string of brilliant white lights.

This is where my father twisted my young brain.

My Auntie Anna and Uncle Eddy lived in Saunderstown, just south of the bridge. From their yard you could also clearly see the bridge. One day, probably before I even turned 9, I asked my father how the lights got on the bridge.

"Your Uncle Eddy put them there," he smiled.

To my young mind it seemed to make sense. He lived right near the bridge; that must be because he worked on the bridge. I took some pride in the fact that my Uncle Eddy had made something so beautiful. I beamed with the fact that thousands of other people could see the work someone in my family had made.

Kids that age don't really think much about what adults do. What my father told me seemed like gospel and I kept that thought in my mind as I got older. As I learned more about people and the things they do I rationalized that my Uncle Eddy must be some sort of electrical engineer. That seemed like the job a person would have to have to oversee the lighting of such a mammoth structure. Simple logic.

This is where the beauty of my father's partical joke blossomed.

My Uncle Eddy died when I was in my mid-twenties. I miss him greatly to this day. The day of his wake I picked up the newspaper to read his obituary. It listed his parents, wife, children, military history and his life long career as a butcher.

BUTCHER?!

That couldn't be right! My father told me he put the lights on the Jamestown Bridge. I even went to my mother to confirm what I was reading. The paper HAD TO be wrong.

"No," my mother told me, "That was just your father screwing with your head." Then she laughed.

When I started driving the Jamestown Bridge planted the seeds for a fear of heights. At the very top of its span was a steel grate which was open to the ocean below. As your drove over the top your tires whined loudly. The wheel swayed slightly back and forth as the tires jogged back and forth across the checkerboard grating. You could look straight down and see the churning cold water hundreds of feet below. It was a government built house of horrors.

You would try to drive as fast as you could to get across the grating. That only made the swaying of your front end worse. Just 26 feet wide, it had only two lanes and no breakdown lane, the swaying made it look as if you were going to be swung over into oncoming traffic. The whining of the tires on the grating only served to make your blood pressure go higher and higher adding a horror movie-like soundtrack to the commuting terror.

When you would hit the solid pavement again you could start breathing again and the blood would drain from your head. I loved going to Newport but I hated going over the Jamestown Bridge.

Even if my Uncle Eddy had put the lights on it.

I have GOT TO put money aside to purchase the original Star Trek episodes on DVD. The cable network G$ has recently begun airing these episodes on a regular basis. Their nightly installments are served up with a whole "interactive" theme which is generally annoying. Add to that I have noticed some inaccuracies on their streaming of background information on each episode. The worst part is that the image gets shrunk down to accommodate this "Star Trek 2.0" theme. Yeech.

However, Saturdays they shine! They are siring all 79 episodes in order and uncut. Because of this the episodes run between an hour and six to an hour and eight minutes. My TiVo cuts them off either during the closing credits of midway through the opening teaser.

I can't remember the last time I was able to watch these episodes in this pristine a format; and in clear digital. I had forgotten how good these episodes were and really how far the last few incarnations has strayed from what I fell in love with thirty some odd years ago.

I pause it to look at the details; the geek in me loves the details. I am amazed at how, right out of the gate in the first new episodes, the relationships between the characters is so well defined. Each episode makes me want to go to Hollywood and kick Rick Berman in the nards for what he has let happen to this franchise.

They all look so young. James T. Kirk is not the same person we see as Denny Crane. The body is different. Kirk has a chiseled aqueline nose while Denny could be in a Ted Kennedy look alike contest.

Even my pal, George; who looks the least affected by time, has let distinguished grey creep in.

I know my next few months of Saturdays will be spent with some of my oldest TV friends and it's going to be a blast!

I almost got a dog the other day. The park manager and a few other tenants were hanging around outside as I paced back and forth doing my laundry. Most people here are a friendly bunch. We all look out for each other and have a smile and a wave as we pass each other. Except for the manager and two other residents, though, I can’t say that I really “know” any of the other people who call Sunny Acres Mobile Home Park “home”.

As I passed by lugging another load of clothes I heard the tiny nipping bark and the clatter of tiny doggie claws scraping across the driveway. Heading my way with an apparent attack planned for my bag of dirty clothes was what looked like the head of a floor mop. White and beige fur about the size of a loaf of bread flopping around little legs with jet black eyes poking out from underneath. His attack stopped suddenly as his instinct gave way to rolling on his back and waiting for me to rub him belly.

How cute!

One of the residents said, “Take him home of you want him!”

I thought about it. Oh, how I thought about it. I considered my asthma. I considered my picky landlord. I considered the amount of time I was usually away from the house and the time I could dedicate to taking care of a dog.

While I took my time considering one of the other resident stepped up and took him in.

Ah, well; probably for the best. I still hadn’t decided whether I was going to call him Muffett or Chewie.

Here is a look at the right of way along which I walk to meet my ride to work every morning. You can see the most interesting things sometimes. For the most part every rock, twig and piece of loose garbage is in exactly the same spot as the day, week or year before. Suddenly the other morning there was something new and got me wondering.

About halfway down the length of the right of way I walk I found a loveseat. Shaded by undergrowth, facing the tracks, it sat looking like very retro with its faded goldenrod upholstery and no cushions.

Why was it there? How had it gotten there? Was it simply discarded as trash? Was this someone who, like me, didn’t have a vehicle so it was easier to drop it here than to bring it to the dump? Did one person move it? Did a bunch of people move it? Was it actually easier to drag it to the middle of nowhere, over railroad tracks and dirt than simply to the curbside for waste removal? Was I looking at some homeless person’s living room? Was this some inventive yet horny teenager trying for some secluded and comfortable makeout spot? In my day we went to watch the submarine races but this was perfect for the amorous pubescent without a car.

Could it be some trainspotter’s idea of a comfort station? To sit and relax as rains sped by in the cool shade. Maybe railroad workers improvised a break room in the middle of nowhere away from the boss’ prying eyes.

Where had it been before here? What type of home had it been in? Was there actually a time and place this material was stylish?!

Just something to ponder walking along the right of way.

I found one Bush apointee I like! Check out this story from the Boston Herald on Justice Scalia.

I am in heaven! A friend just informed me that a Sonic is coming to my area. Just 5 miles from my house. If you’ve read this blog with any regularity you’ll know of my obsession.

To give a quick thumbnail; I discovered Sonic in the 70’s during a visit to my sister’s in Houston and fell in love. Their burgers are fantastic and the whole 50’s drive-in/carhops on skates motif is cool and unique. Since they were only a Southern franchise they remained a fond memory for years.

On a roadtrip through Alabama I re-discovered them. Well, to accurately describe it; I almost drove off the road as I drove past. Since then I have become the textbook definition of fanatic. On any roadtrip I will scout out the location of the nearest franchise to my route. I have collected all sorts of merchandise, promotional items and clothing available on eBay and directly through begging at restaurants and gifts from friends. If I had the cash, I would invest in the company, as they are the fastest growing franchise in the country. My local group of friends has a standing lotto agreement; if one of us wins we build a Sonic and hire each other to run it.

Well, now Shangri-La is coming to my zip code!

When I have a car I have to almost assault myself to go out walking. When I don’t have a car and am forced to walk I am amazed at how much I love walking and assault myself for not going out walking when I do have a car. I guess it comes down to the whole motivation thing and how we have become so used to the convenience.

I had to return the borrowed car to my friend, Patrick, and until the van is resurrected I have enlisted carpooling help of two coworkers who live nearby. My regular morning driver would have to go out of her way to pick me up in the morning so I decided to force myself into exercise by setting up a meeting place near her house.

Each morning I get up a half-hour early and walk my favorite route along the right of way on the train tracks. It quiet, secluded and an easy ten minuet walk. I listen to the “Bob and Tom Show” (with only one ear bud in so I can listen for trains – safety first), contemplate the universe and basically give my brain a change to wake up and catch up with the rest of my body.

The weird thing is that when I had my own transportation, I had sleeping problems; I would either end up watching TV or getting on the PC and stay up until 1 or 2 AM. Now, I drop into bed anywhere between 11:30 and midnight, forsaking Letterman, and wake fully rested and ready to move at 6:30. I don’t feel the need to nap during the day and nowhere near the fatigue I used to feel.

Amazing what motivation will do to you.

Somewhere around twenty years ago I was going to the Apponaug Hobby Shop with my good friend Jay. The Apponaug Hobby Shop is (or was, I'm not sure if it's still standing) a small hobby shop which sat in the middle of "downtown" Warwick, RI right next to city hall. As the city grew and changed over thirty years, this little building remained the same.

Sprouting up around this squat little 1920's style cracker box building were modern gas stations, hardware stores and national chain drug stores gleaming with chrome and glass. I doubt if three coats of paint changed on the clapboard walls and Victorian trim in the 34 years I lived in Warwick.

This one particular trip with Jay is etched on my memory. I had intentions of getting supplies and equipment to hone my model building and painting skills. I loved building model kits. For years I simply slathered on glue and slammed kit pieces together. I might do a passing paint job to help make the kit look more like the original but it always ended up being the minimal amount of work possible. The reason for my wanting to get better. Legacy.

As I explained to Jay, "I'm not into sports. I'm not athletic. I don't fish. What do I have that I'm going to be able to do with a child and connect with him or her? I want to have something I can sit down, explain the finer points, talk about some history, show how to do something, teach them how to do something from start to finish. This is all I got. If I'm going to teach my child something fun I want to make sure I'm good at it."

I bought a model kit of the Enterprise from "The Next Generation", glue, paints, air brush, masking supplies and detailing brushes. I was going to make a detailed and professional a paint job which would rival a shooting model of the ship.

After six months the kit was retired to a closet with half of the saucer section completed and not a single piece glued together.

Fouteen years ago, my son was born. Just tonight, on our drive back from picking him up for our weekend together, we connected in an unexpected and wonderful way.

I introduced my son to Beatles music.

He talked to me about wanting to learn to play guitar. That led to a mention of Linkin Park appearing on the Grammys with Paul McCartney. When he was younger he would always roll his eyes when ever I played Beatles music. Now that one of his favorites names them as a major influence suddenly his father 's taste in music isn't that questionable.

We talked for almost and hour talking about Beatles history and influence during the 60's and then I played a few cuts from John Lennon's "Plastic Ono Band". He listened intently and commented on how the popular music he listened to sounded like it could be directly traced to what I was playing for him.

Yes!!!!

It was the connection I had always hoped for. Sure we go to conventions all the time. We watch movies together. We like some of the same TV shows. But this came completely out of left field and it was something he found in life that was interesting that has potential to really influence his life. And it all flowed so naturally and was a real exchange of ideas. He listened intently and soaked in all I had to tell him.

I think I'll have to go to my storage space and throw out that old unfinished Enterprise model; I don;t think I'll be needing it any more.

I am now a paid actor......WITH AN AGENT!!!!!!

A few weeks ago I sent a copy of "Runners" to an agent in the Orlando area. I simply went to the AFTRA (TV and Radio actors union) and found a talent agent listing. I waited and waited. I called and called.

"We got it but we haven't gotten to watch it yet. We'll get back to you."

"I haven't heard back from our boss yet."

"We'll get back to you."

At least I felt like a real actor getting rejection so early in the process.

Then I cam home last night to a message waiting on my answering machine. My poor machine; I must have played the message back to back almost 80 times.

"We all love your work and we believe YOU SHOULD BE WORKING FOR DISNEY. When sometime comes up we'll contact with no hesitation."

I don't think my feet have touched the ground yet.

I do realize this is simply an agent making contact. I know some of the realities of the business and am not pinning my homes on one phone call. But, you have to admit...

IT WAS A DAMNED GOOD FIRST PHONE CALL!!!!!!!!

I have since talked with my contact there and things do seem very hopeful.

My trip to Birmingham was for the annual Region 2 Summit. This is a working weekend when we get together for different panel discussions, awards dinner and a lot of fun time together with friends from all across the south. OK, most of it is for the fun part. I almost was not able to attend and at the last minuet I was given the trip as a gift from a very good friend.

The last time I went to one of these in Birmingham I drove with a friend of mine. The ride was relaxing and it was nice to see the rural pasts of the south as we drove for almost 13 hours to get there. It certainly was a nice change for the trip to only take 5 hours from the minuet I walked out my door to when I walked in the hotel room.

It was the usual gathering of friends and is always a good time. My chapter won an award for its website. My only disappointments were that Johnny was not able to go with me and that I did not get up early Sunday morning to go to church at the 17th Street Baptist Church. I had visited the Civil Rights Institute and have been looking forward to showing it to John and experiencing my first Southern Baptist church service. If I was going to go to one I at least wanted to do so at such a historical landmark as the 17th Street Church. Well, maybe next time.

Of course the reason I didn’t make it to church Sunday morning was because of the drinking I had done the night before. As usual with these weekends, when I don’t have my son around I am free to imbibe as much as I want. I call my son my “Designated Driver”. My friend, Wade, was mixmaster for the evening and after a while of mixing some wonderful drinks simply began playing “chemistry set”, handing me concoction after concoction of whatever looked good together in the glass. By then, of course, my tastebuds didn’t really notice what I was taking in anyway.

I gave the people in the room a bit of a scare when I finally realized just how intoxicated I was and that I had met my limit. I simply and quietly got up and went back to my room. After a few minuets the rest of the people in the party room noticed and wondered where I had gone. They began looking around expecting to find me like Belushi, passed out in a hallway somewhere. I got that same look of astonishment the next morning that I always seem to get, “Jack! You’re upright!”

Yes! It was a good weekend!

This weekend I flew to and from Birmingham, Alabama. I’ll get into the reasons for the trip in another post. I found myself suffering from two profound moments of paranoia.

The first was when I landed in Birmingham and waited at the baggage claim carousel for my luggage to appear. When I left Orlando Southwest’s system of checking luggage seemed odd and confusing. After getting my boarding pass from an automated system I was told to bring my baggage to the x-ray machine on my way to the gate. Ahead of me were two massive machine in two different locations and the attendant at the check in area was hoping back and forth between four different kiosks at once and did not give the clearest direction which of these was the one where I supposed to leave my belongings. I was perplexed why I was suddenly turned into a baggage handler when there was a perfectly good conveyor belt sitting directly behind the check in area.

As I stood in Birmingham, 480 miles from where I last saw my clothing the fear creeped in that I had put the bags at the wrong machine. I had this image of one bag in Tahiti and another in Nome. I knew, by looking at my Southwest napkin with the little map showing all the destinations they flew, that was impossible. The other image crystal clear in my mind was a trail of my clothing and belongings trailing behind the ripped and torn remnants of my duffel bag.

With each bag that slipped through the vinyl curtain I could feel the anxiety increasing. Each squeal and bump of the serpentine conveyor belt hammered the images of lost and destroyed luggage deeper and deeper into my brain. Although it was crisp and cool in the airport I could feel flop sweat dropping down my back.

The sight of my luggage appearing safe and intact quickly turned my mood fright to righteous indignation aimed directly at myself. “You idiot,” I yelled silently at myself, “I knew it would be safe all along!”

The other moment of paranoia came on my return trip and proves just how pervasive the messages we are fed about terrorism are. As I waited by the security checkpoint I smiled at the young parents and their infant child in front of me. At first I didn’t think twice about the child seat covered by a homemade quilt. The line moved along, the family ahead of me moved up but the car seat remained untouched.

Ever thoughtful, L leaned forward and tapped the father on the shoulder, “You left your car seat over there,” I whispered.

“That ain’t mine,” he said trying to keep his baby quiet.

My eyes bulged as they turned to look again at the car seat. I was sure the blanket with cute little kitties and elephants was swaddling C-4. As my heart pounded louder and louder it proved the soundtrack for the Joel Schumacher fueled images of explosions and death. And here I was inches away from the next Ground Zero.

I HAD TO act. I HAD TO do my part. I quickly leaned over to the Homeland Security person at the security checkpoint and whispered to him so as not to cause a panic. In my most serious but controlled voice of authority said, “No one seems to be with that car seat.”

With the look of a teenage checkout person at the 10-item express lane just as you lay down your 13th item he responded, “Sir see that man over there; it’s his. I know all about it. Please get back in line.”

“You idiot,” I yelled silently at myself, “I knew it would be safe all along!”

If you are not a fan of “24” this posting will mean little to you.

If you are not a fan of “24”….what the hell is your problem?

The logical side of my mind tells me the story line is getting more and more ridiculous......but the rest of me is enjoying the heck out of it! The tension has not let up for one second this season.

The way they ended Monday night's episode was classic; right in mid sentence! Sean Astin's rant as he was walked away was cliché Captain Queeg stuff, but great!

This president makes Nixon look better than Washington. They even threw in a glaring Nixon reference with him and his chief of staff kneeling to pray (Nixon made Kissinger do exactly the same thing, almost word for word). I was cheering for this guys downfall by the end of the episode. "You are SO SCREWED!" "IMPEACHMENT!" It's a wonder my neighbors didn't call complaining about the noise.

I know that the president's limo can take more of a beating in real life than it did last night but again it was so well played it was too much fun to care about the logic.

Peter Weller....WOW!

Manny Coto is Da Man!

Another show you SHOULD be watching is “Two and a Half Men”. This stars Johnathan Cryer and Charlie Sheen. I have not consistantly laughed out loud during a sitcom in a long time. And they push the envelope of acceptable humor is this post-“Janet Jackson Superbowl” era; which makes me enjoy it more and more.

Even better than the performances and the writing is the creator and Executive Producer, Chuck Lorre. Someday I have got to meet this guy. He has been producer on such shows as “Rosanne”, “Grace Under Fire” and “Dharma and Greg”. At the end of each show there is what is called a “vanity card”. It is a slide that flashes on the screen very quickly and looks like some kind of legal disclaimer. Upon further review while the playback is paused you will find it is filled with some very funny writing.

This is a collection of all of his vanity cards for all seasons of “Dharma and Greg” and “Two and a Half Men”. Enjoy.

http://www.chucklorre.com/

If it weren’t for bad luck….

I recently had been trying to move into the training department where I work. I had a meeting a week and a half ago with the head of that department about the possibilities. She made it clear that they would love to have me and that there was one position, which could easily be mine. This position had been open for more than three months and none had shown the slightest interest in it. With the future possibility of becoming an orientation trainer and finally getting off the phones I quickly filled in the transfer paperwork and patiently waited for the cogs of corporate machinery move me through the process of interview and selection.

Three days later the finance department decided the job was not justified for current business needs and eliminated it.

Our CFO is now off my Christmas card list!

While not in the running for the Darwin Award, I did make my son scared by his genetic heritage this past weekend. My friend, Patrick, has lent me his car while my van remains in a coma. Last Thursday night I drove home from across town, a trip of about 10 miles, with no particular problem. The next morning I got in the car to head to work, turned the key…….and the car didn’t start.

Apparently cars come to me to die!

I called my neighborhood mechanic but he was unavailable until Saturday. I let the depression wash over me and decided to take the day off from work. While he was nervous about the news, my friend Patrick seemed to take this latest chapter in stride.

My mechanic showed up just after lunch on Saturday and immediately went about tinkering with the engine to diagnose the problem. A persistent noise from the back of the car and the engine not turning over narrowed the search to the fuel pump. Always trying to save me a dollar or two, my mechanic crawled under the car and started hitting the pump with a hammer hoping to dislodge any blockage.

“Hey!” he bellowed, “this tank sounds awfully HOLLOW!”

My mind replayed the ride home the night before. It was the day before payday, so I had no money to fill the gas tank. The needle sat at 1/8th of a tank; a safe cushion as I had previously run the tank on almost fumes with an accompanying “idiot light”. My ride home the night before had been devoid of any fuel problems.

“Rock the car and let me hear how much gas is in there!”

I leaned on the bumper and rocked the car up and down a few times until he slid out from underneath, rose to his feet and gave me a look as if he were talking to a 5 year old, “Humor me and let’s go get a couple of dollar worth of gas.”

Sure enough, we returned, emptied the gas can, turned the key and heard the car jump to life. My self-esteem sank as the engine grew louder. At least it had saved me a major repair and only cost me a 12 pack of Michelob.

When I told my son, he just sighed and said, “Dad!” with a mix on astonishment and terror that he was in the same gene pool as his Mensa reject of a father.

Well, I got the van moving today. OK, so it took fibe guys pusjing it from behind, but IT WAS MOVING!

The guy who manages the park where I live hooked me up with a neighbor who works on cars on the side thinkning he could get it up and running quickly. We were still al running under the assum[tion it was a fuel filter problem. Four hours and $30 later the van was still an inter pile in the driveway.

The next step I try before simply letting the van roll down the hill into the river is back to the salvage yard who worked on in back in December. He seemed to think the problem was connected to the fuel injection system. It's worth a shot and since I got to him through a connection where it will cost me close to nothing to have him do the work, it can't hurt.

Everything I know about the mechanics of the internal combustion engine have been from all the times over the years that I have had a car break down. If I could turn it all into preactical kmnowledge I'd be ASE Certified by now!

Yes, I know I still owe some big time, heart wrenching blog about what has been going on with work and in Starfleet. Both of them have basically blown over so that will wait until either the muse hits me or either frustrates me again.

Instead, how about the two words which have turned “24” completely around this season….Manny Coto. Manny is the Executive Producer who turned “Star Trek: Enterprise” from a pathetic and pale clone of the original franchise and added strong story lines and a respect for the original. Manny has now joined the production staff of “24” and made the same drastic change in the tempo, intensity and overall feel of the show.

They are already gone through 6 hours of the “day” and have not lost the pacing or heightened tension. There have been the occasional stretches of logic and both Chloe and Edgar need to be slapped several times about the head and shoulders just because they are annoying…but you forgive most of them because each episode, so far, has been fantastic.

I had almost given up on the show as it seemed to be the same old thing over and over taking bigger and bigger leaps of logic and believability. Then came Manny. Now the show keeps me on the edge of my seat the entire hour. I have every confidence he will be as good for “24” as he did for “Enterprise”.

As I’ve said it’s been a busy few weeks; let’s hit the good stuff first.

Last weekend was the 20th Anniversary of the Challenger accident. No, that’s NOT the good stuff. The good part about it was the 2nd Annual Fleet Day at Kennedy Space Center. This is the second year that members of Starfleet International have gone as a group to Kennedy to honor the memories of all the fallen astronauts. This year coincided with the 20th anniversary and was even bigger than last year’s outing.

32 members of Fleet ended up showing for the major part of the weekend on Saturday. All dressed in either Star Trek costumes/uniforms, chapter t-shirts or Fleet paraphernalia we made an impressive looking group. Most were from around Florida with some traveling from Alabama, Kentucky and (he just happened to be in Florida at the same time) California. Once gathered together, we made our way to the Memorial Mirror for the official ceremony. This was a long drawn out parade of speakers ranging from the boring politicians and NASA bureaucrats to members of the Scobee family. Dick Scobee’s widow seemed to go on the longest; she seemed to wrap up three or four different times and then just kept going and going and going. Still, a very impressive and occasionally inspiring ceremony.

Starfleet became an unofficial part of the ceremony completely by accident. Kennedy Space Center was handing out individual flowers for visitors to leave at the Mirror. We brought a beautiful wreath for our own little ceremony after the official event was finished. The area directly in front of the mirror was blocked off for the ceremony so we placed the wreath off to one side to wait. As the ceremony dragged on some people decided not to stay. With gentle reverence, one by one, people started leaving flowers at the foot of our wreath apparently thinking that was part of the memorial. Within minuets there were hundreds of flowers blanketing the base of our wreath. TV crews filmed it and photos were taken by local media and Reuters. If only they knew.

For the remainder of the day everyone scattered on their own for the most part. Since I had taken the bus tour last year I mostly hung around the Visitors’ Center going through the different pavilions there. At the end of the day we had a group dinner at a local Friendly’s. Arrangements had been made for a group rate at a local hotel which held over about a third of the group to the next day.

On Sunday we visited the Astronaut Hall of Fame. A very impressive museum for anyone interested in the space program. The highlight for me was the g-force centrifuge. This was a smaller version of the one used to train astronauts. It spins you to simulate up to 4-g’s; not too bad actually.

A farewell lunch at a local buffet restaurant capped off the weekend. All in all; quite a success. Plans are already in the early stages for next year, which will be the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 1 fire. I am hoping for a repeat of this year’s success, if not something a little bigger.

Since I was the person who planned the event I was presented with a gift at the end in honor of my efforts. I was given a pin from the planets series sold in the gift shop. They had chosen the one planet which most reminded them of me…..URANUS.

It’s so good to have friends!

This has been one of my longest dry spells in posting and it's been a busy couple of weeks. The problems at work I never got to last time, more shake-ups at work, more car trouble and a visit to Kennedy Space Center. I will recap some of this over the weekend. The topic which brings me to the keyboard is one of the recurring topics on here; death.

I just talked with my son who informed me that his uncle, my ex's brother-in-law, suddenly died two days ago from an epileptic seizure. He was just 30 years old, married less than a year and a new father. Needless to say, it was something of a shock to the family there. This would be his first wake and funeral if he decides to go.

His mother and I talked for a while about this and do seem to be in agreement on how to handle this. We are going to leave the decision up to him to attend or not. His first reaction is not to go. We are both leaving it up to him but still gently nudging in favor of actually attending. It is something he is going to have to deal with sooner or later and better to do so with someone not quite as close as other people on his life.

I can still clearly remember the first person in a casket I saw. My Uncle Kenny died when I was 10 years old. He and I were very close as I went to his house every day after school. He was loving and funny. More than thirty years later I can still remember his smile and large, gentle hands.

My father arranged to bring me into the funeral home when no one else was there. We sat in the car for a few minutes before I could actually get out and move towards the building. I had wanted to go and see him. I don't know what my parents said to prepare me but I was ready.

The warm scented air inside, heavy with the scent of flowers, almost pushed me back as the door to the funeral home opened. My father led me in with a hand on my shoulder. At first, all I saw was the casket. With little hesitation, we walked closer.

There he was. A favorite uncle who would always greet me loudly and happily lying silent and motionless. While it was unreal to me I can recall that I was most surprised that it was not scary. The serene setting of the paneled walls and draperies with a collection of beautiful flowers on either side of the casket made a very relaxing atmosphere. I looked directly at his face studying every detail. I asked my father some questions which he answered in quiet, hushed tones. Even though we were the only ones there we still had to whisper.

I just looked at him. I didn't say a prayer. I didn't break down crying. Nothing horrible or emotionally disturbing happened to scar me for life. I was sad that my uncle was gone. I don't know if there was any of the ever popular "closure" in saying goodbye. He was my Uncle Kenny and I had to see him one last time. Maybe because it was him that it wasn't a scary or traumatic experience; there was never anything scary about Uncle Kenny.

Like anyone, I can still do without attending wakes, but they are a part of life. Just as my father was there to see me through my first experience, I hope I can be there for my son.