The Middle Age Packet

Back in the Glory Days

Now I think I'm going down to the well tonight
and I'm going to drink till I get my fill
And I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it
but I probably will
Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture
a little of the glory of, well time slips away
and leaves you with nothing mister but
boring stories of glory days
--Bruce Springsteen, "Glory Days"

Quoting Springsteen lyrics to evoke poignancy does seem like the Joey Buttafuoco biography's dedication page, but they hit the mark for what follows. Apologies for sinking to this state.

You see, kids, tomorrow I turn 50. "I'm 50!!!" And as with all other birthdays ending in zero, it sure gets you thinking. Not "go buy a Corvette and start hitting on Hooters waitresses" thinking, but reflective nonetheless.

Then the AARP packet hit my door. One albatross ("ALBATROSS!!) like harbinger of senility, I mean, growing older, is when that thing arrives. As far as messages go its the "Luca Brazzi sleeps with the fishes" way of announcing your youth is now floating somewhere in the East River.

I experienced the joy of receiving that packet earlier this week. Good times. I disgustedly threw it down on my kitchen table, as if to teach it a lesson and show it who's the boss. Of course, it joined about 20 other mailings I'm too lazy to move to the recycle bin, which is hardly Boss-like. The point is, I never saw what the packet contained. But it could only include bad stuff, because it tries to tell you that you've arrived in your "senior years" and now you need to start worrying about medicare and estate planning and yogurt shop senior discounts (good only before 6 p.m. because, you know, I should be in bed by then, with my teeth on the nightstand next to me).

But after I tossed the packet down with a flourish, I started thinking what AARP, or some other omniscient, omnipresent being should include in a Welcome to Old Age, errr, middle age, packet.

Certainly it shouldn't include membership cards. You want to know how old I am? Check my face. Especially the patches where it looks like I have no beard, but that's really because the whiskers are white.

The packet should include things you really need when you reach 50. That's middle aged, because  I'm living to 100. True story. 100. I'm going the distance. Joining the Century Club. In other words, I'm going to all your funerals. Try to serve something easy to chew, please.

So instead of yogurt coupons and medicare info, here's what my packet should have included.

Bad memory. I'm pretty much most of the way there already, but I'm thinking you need to forget all the slights, failures, disappointments, crap storms, and battles you've endured through the years. Its like cleaning your gutters out. As Garth Algar beckoned, "Live in the Now!" And bad memory will help you forget how old you actually are, so you won't miss out on opportunities just because you're "too old."

 

Good memory. To remember the good times. Mainly for when you're too damn old to keep having them.

Sweaters are comfy

A sweater. Because once you're 50, it's always cold.

Patience To suffer all the fools and idiots. they become fools and idiots because they don't know all the useful stuff that you do. Like how to fix the sink. Or the right way to mow the yard. You know. Important stuff.

Bad hearing. Because they're talking about you. And you probably shouldn't listen to modern music. Ever. 

Good hearing. Because, well, you know. People start speaking softly to you.

Flexibility. To try new things, remain open to new ideas, meeting new people, and live in the now (and not 30 years ago). Hey, its not 1975 anymore. And it never will be again (thank God). You don't want to be the guy in 2014 who's still spouting 1970s-era ideas. That just makes you Austin Powers (if you're lucky, or Donald Sterling if you're not). Embrace the present. That's where you actually live. Roll with the times. Don't be a walking museum.

Don't forget the butter!

Initiative. Ronald Reagan entered politics at age 55. Phyllis Diller became a comedian at age 37. John Glenn became an astronaut at 39 and was 49 when he first ran for public office. Julia Child started her cooking show at 50. Joy Behar was a teacher until 40. Its not too late. Well, maybe for some things. My NBA center career arc isn't looking that promising these days.

Ways to Give back. Because you know stuff that others should know (they just don't know it). Like how to fix the door knob. Don't just keep it to yourself. Seriously, does anyone know how to fix a door knob?

Let's pick up the pace!

Driving Lessons. Whether from the Beldar Conehead Driving School or otherwise, you need to avoid driving 2 mph in a parking garage. You lingering long enough won't make front row spaces magically appear. Or 45 mph on the freeway. Or creeeeeeeping around a right hand turn, worried about creating some space-time continuum sling shot effect if you take it too fast.

Bad eyesight. You don't want to see what you look like, or what people your age look like.

Good eyesight. So you can read the fine print, and road signs. And still see hot women at a distance.

Money. The time in life where its acceptable for a man to ask his buddies if he can sleep on their couch ends sometime well before 50. Or to ask them to help him move.

This 46 year old Tony award winner is healthy

Health. You have one, and only one, body. There's no change outs or returns. To now, it hasn't been that difficult to keep it up and running. But its going to become much more of a challenge. Stay active. Stay alert. Eat right. Nourish your body. Use it for something other than lying on the couch. Work especially on balance to avoid falls. Go to the doctor. Don't punish yourself with drink and fat and smoke (ahem, New Orleans?).

Curiosity. The time to stop learning is never. You stop using your brain, it will atrophy just like a muscle. The people who die early more often than not are the ones who don't do anything challenging as they grow older. Once you're a potted plant, its just a matter of time.

A spouse. All those studies that show you live twenty million times longer if you're married or in a very long-term relationship. Ugh. It haunts my dreams!

OK, that about covers it. This packet would be really hard to fit in my mail box.

NEXT-My next 50 year old google search list.





 

My Calgary Dream Vacation Getaway (Day Two, or Three, I'm not sure of the Metric Equivalent)

Dudley Do-Right Loves Banff

Part Deux of the Canadian Travel Saga. I know, you're wondering "how could there possibly be more?" Oh, but there is. There is.

Because after exploring Calgary, I headed up to Banff, international travel destination and ski resort. That's right, I go to ski towns in the middle of summer. "Canadian summer" is something of a non-sequitur; this day felt like a January day in Houston. It reached the mid-50s in Banff, perfect for walking and hiking. You could tell it was summer only because snow drifts weren't covering everything and people had on only two layers of clothing, not five.

I started the day dragging out of bed and schlepping a couple of blocks to the local YMCA branch for a vigorous workout. Using the new calisthenics routines everyone's talking about. That means I stretched and lifted, working around my nagging 50 year old guy injuries. Interesting watching pasty white Canadians working out; Casper the Friendly Ghost thinks these people should get some more sun.

After cleaning up just a bit (hiking loomed ahead, and two showers in one day? Not water-friendly), and having missed the hotel's dismal but free breakfast ("free" and "just downstairs" goes a long way), I walked a block to Cora's Restaurant, a local chain breakfast and lunch place. Cora's is one of those places where the menu contains more photos and drawings of the food than descriptions. Its like Denny's, only the servers have all their teeth and food poisoning wasn't on the menu. In other words, it was pretty good. Having worked up a big boy appetite, I had pretty much the right side of one page of the menu-an oatmeal trough, and a monstrous spinach, cheese, and mushroom omelette. With gluten free (probably) toast (cause, you know, the oatmeal didn't supply enough carbs by itself). Oh and breakfast potatoes. My morning Starch-O-Rama for sure. My waitress was especially perky, energetic, friendly, and smiling. Basically I wanted to pour maple syrup on her and tie her to an ant mound. But fortunately for her, I was too busy stuffing my face to act out on such impulses. And I had no time to work on dating.

Having taken on board a normal weekend's entire caloric intake in one sitting, it was time to head out. The Drive to Banff resembles the drive from Denver to the Rockies. Flatlands surround Calgary for many miles. The level terrain begins to slowly give way to rolling hills, featuring high season wildflowers on either side. Leaving Calgary, one passes the old Olympic ski facility. "Olympic Park," as its called, gives Western Canadians a chance to do the luge, bobsled, ski jump, and downhill ski. Or, for the women who overwhelmingly watch the Winter Olympics, all those events they show in between figure skating sessions. Seriously, if it weren't for women over 35 and gay men, would the Olympics even be on TV? After about 45 minutes, the mountains appear in the distance. They steadily grow larger and come closer. Then you're right in the thick of things, and start listening for yodeling and looking for goats. Summer represents an odd time to see them, as the peaks had absolutely no snow cover. So the tree line ran up about 2/3 of the way, giving way to bare rock. But the mountains were glorious.

Banff the town lies within Banff National Park. Which seems kind of atrocious to me. You have to pay a park entrance fee just to visit a town? That would be like setting up a toll booth outside Houston and charging people to go into the city. Though I guess that's what you have to do to get into New York City. Does any way exist to get into Manhattan without paying a toll or fee of some sort? OK, so rant aside, once you enter the park, you go a few more miles and then take the cutoff for town. Take a left at the first huge peak, and go a few "kilometers" (eye roll), until you hit town. A number of trails criss-cross the forest just outside town limits, and I encountered various hiking groups, biking groups, and horseback riders as I headed in.






Banff

Banff, the town, resembles other ski towns I've visited. Which I guess means the other two ski towns (Aspen and Jackson Hole). Oh, except for the moose or yak or elk (most likely an elk) chewing on shrubbery outside the local high school as I drove into town. Yeah, that happened. No photos though as I was driving and the town was packed. Pedestrians and cars jammed the place right good. Eventually I found a parking spot and mixed in with the tourists. Banff truly draws people from around the world. Walking around the village, I heard all kinds of languages and saw all kinds of people. It was like a UN meeting, without the rabid anti-Americanism.

Banff Springs Resort

First stop, the Fairmont Banff Springs Resort, just outside of town. A classic old railway hotel, this enormous late 1800s chalet style monstrosity sits right on the springs and includes all manner of resort activities. As many non-equals toured the place, I recalled my stay there many years ago. I took my vacation in Vancouver and then Banff, hoping to see both Banff and Lake Louise to the north during my second week of vacation. Unfortunately, British Columbia wildfires obscured the views and made it hard to do things outside. Not to mention that I was unknowingly suffering some cardiac obstruction at the time, and found it hard to engage in much physical exertion. I did meet a cute nutritionist/trainer who set me up on a low carb plan. Sadly, my swag had only limited effect on her, so the quest continued. Anyway, I enjoyed staying at the hotel, though I recall my room wasn't as grand as the facility itself (not unlike my stay at the Plaza, but that story will have to wait). I packed it in and flew to San Francisco to close out that vacation, as I recall.  The Resort is still imposing and magnificent. Finally, I could see it all, with no wildfire smoke.

View from Tunnel Mountain

I checked in with the local Park office and got some trail advice. Based on that, I drove over to the Tunnel Mountain trail. The trail starts right in town and leads up a smallish mountain (but its still a "mountain" so back off!) with great town and valley views at the summit. Check some of these photos. Rain threatened, as fast moving clouds entered the area, left the area, entered the area...15 year old girls trying to decide whether to stay friends with one another made their minds up more quickly than these clouds. Ultimately, it just sprinkled a bit. A good number of people were on the trail, some rather less athletic looking than others. This trail didn't demand, um, supreme fitness. It was no Laura Cowles trail at Vermont's Underhill State Park. Damn, I still get tired just thinking about that slog. Anyway, Tunnel Mountain has no tree line, so you encounter trees even at the top. Though the trail contains several switchbacks at lower elevations, its not as bad as some. I detest switchbacks. They let you climb steeper peaks without killing your cardiovascular system, but force you to see the same scenery for extended periods.

The Park visitor's center said the Tunnel Mountain trail would take 2 hours. I did it in 1:40, with a 15 minute summit break, because, #teamawesome. That gave me more time to prowl around the town. Figuring, I'm in Canada, I dined at the Maple Leaf Grill, an elegant, wood-dominated restaurant featuring many locally sourced meats and fish dishes. I had the salad with strawberries and maple vinaigrette, and wild BC salmon with maple glaze, prawns, and beurre blanc. Very nice. Even though I was sporting hiking shorts, a probably too-tight and definitely douchey "PRINCETON" t-shirt, unintendedly hipsterish two day stubble, and hiking filth, the Grille didn't banish me to the alleyway or suggest that a pond might be good for me.

The Trans-Canada Highway

Taking advantage of the high latitude and long summer day (the sun wouldn't truly set until 9:45), I walked around a bit more, buying a certain couple of nieces some little surprises that hopefully I can actually give them one day. Then I drove back late. The low hanging, late evening sun cast some stunning shadows over the Rockies. I can't adequately describe the scene. "Yeah, it was pretty. Really, really...nice.  You should have seen it. It was really beautiful." All of which was true, but won't win get me on the Oprah Book Club list anytime soon. Or win a Pulitzer Prize. But here's some photos. Suffice to say, the mountains were pretty.

Thus ends my Canadian Adventure, 2014 edition. One slight epilogue. The skies finally did open the following Monday as I drove to the airport. At low 50s temperatures, it truly did resemble Houston weather. In January. As a front blew through. Winter here must be the worst thing imaginable.

NEXT-the Middle Age Packet. I'm still not sure what that means.

My Calgary Dream Vacation Getaway

Calgary from Prince's Island Park

"Let's take an exotic vacation, to Calgary." Signed, "things no one has ever said."

But the firm was paying for me to travel there to attend a conference, conveniently held on a Friday morning. I decided to stick around the rest of the weekend. Here's the story of my Calgarian Adventure.

I'd been through Calgary before. Many of you may remember that I spent a few days in Banff many years ago. I flew into Calgary, rented a car, and drove the couple of hours to Banff. I didn't stop in Calgary at the time, and just saw it through my car windows. Back then, it reminded me of Lubbock, without the feedlot aroma. Flat, barren, basically on a grid street system. And so I expected not that much on this trip. Maybe a chance to get away from Texas summer temperatures, and snicker at the Canadian hoser accents.

But either my memory failed me, or Calgary has really come up through the years. Maybe some of both. It boasts a nice downtown with lots of greenery, numerous parks, several shopping/pedestrian areas, and a lot of outdoor activity. Its not exactly Paris, but neither is it the Lubbock of Canada.

Friday afternoon, I explored the downtown area. It features a surprising number of modern skyscrapers. Later, while walking along the Bay River's "Riverwalk," I would see 15-20 cranes, all putting up new downtown towers.  Piecing it together, Calgary is basically Canada's energy capital, and Canadian energy production is booming these days. Indeed, the reason the conference organizers selected Calgary is because one of the main sponsors, AltaLink, headquarters in Calgary. But beyond the skyscrapers, the city has somehow preserved many older 1800s and early 1900s buildings. Hudson's Bay department store represents a prime example. I was disappointed not to find an animal pelt section there.

Stephens Avenue
 

Downtown attractions include the Stephens Avenue pedestrian mall, a four or five block row of restaurants, bars, and trendy shops. Good people watching. The "mall" includes several old bank buildings, such as the old Bank of Montreal building. Calgary Tower also sits just one block south of Stephens Avenue. This private tower fulfills the same purpose as San Antonio's Tower of the Americas or Seattle's Space Needle: its for sightseeing. Its base houses a couple of shops and a Ruth's Chris Steak House, but otherwise, its for observation. I didn't go up. Turns out they only take reservations, and you have to call a day ahead, and blah blah blah. I wasn't in the mood to be that organized. So, pass. I checked out some other areas, including the Olympic Plaza, which sat next to the Theater Calgary (currently showing The Philadelphia Story), the Glenbow Museum, and the Telus Convention Center. A friend had recommended I check out the Glenbow, but I didn't have time. The large Plaza featured an natural amphitheater, with flowers and greenery throughout.

I walked further south, down to the 17th Avenue District. You can think of this as Calgary's Montrose area. Sort of. A lot more boho, with coffee shops, tattoo parlors, Chinese medicine places, kitsch stores, hemp stores, restaurants, and the like. No chains. The crowds here (yes, they had definitely jammed the bar patios by 3 p.m.--does any one actually work around here?) seemed much younger than back downtown. And grungier. Back in town, they were hitting happy hour early too, but that crowd looked like it was saving up for the new Audi. This crowd looked like it wondered if anyone would notice the rust build up on the old Forerunner. I stopped for a bit at the Waves Coffee House to rest, and enjoyed a iced red tea, of all things. I know, I know, that's really precious, right? But hey, it beats the Seattle Brand, you know? Hardwood floors and walls, dingy furniture, semi-suspicious employees...its like being on South Congress without the smug. 

Walking around Calgary, it didn't appear like that many tourists were on the prowl. Or they were Canadian tourists. Geez, what kind of crappy life do you live when you set out to take your vacation somewhere like Calgary? That's kind of like living in Conroe and taking your vacation in...The Woodlands. Which people actually do. Yet another reason why the Chinese are beating us, people. Anyway, I got the feeling I was catching typical Calgary on a Friday afternoon. The people looked sort of, not like models. I'm sure the winters really beat up the old complexion around here. But unlike say Wisconsin or Minnesota or the Dakotas, I didn't see any obese people. By sheer coincidence, I didn't see any Taco Bells or Burger Kings either. In fact, other than one McDonalds and one KFC, I can't remember seeing any fast food places. A couple of Subway sandwich places. These people must eat something other than brats, cheese, and beer. Or they ride their bikes. Or something. These Canadians also look really content. Really, very content. Kind of catatonic actually. Like they're all living in that Landru episode on Star Trek, where everyone spent the day aimlessly walking around like they'd had about 12 phenobarbital that morning, only to have the world turn into Charlie Sheen's New Year's party at night when the bell rang. Only the bell didn't ring here.

Lougheed House and Beaulieu Gardens

Walking back through the neighborhood between 17th Avenue and Downtown, I observed a dowdy mix of 1950s and 60s ranch houses, probably designed by Mike Brady as architecture school homework projects, and Leningrad-style block flats and towers. Remember all those scenes from the Kosovo and Bosnian Wars, with depressing Communist-era buildings getting shelled? That's kind of what this neighborhood resembled. Without the artillery shelling, of course. Or maybe just not as much. In short, if this is how real Canadians live, no thanks. Keep your socialized medicine and relatively scarce homelessness. It'd be nice to see something pretty every now and then, instead of this relentless shabbiness. I encountered one slight bright spot: Lougheed House. An 1890s homestead with nice gardens. Some real British fancy pants lived there (I don't have the patience to write the story) about 100 years ago. They kept up the gardens, and it looked like someone had rented the place for a wedding later that evening. I saw plenty of guys with three day beard growth in morning dress (ugh-appropriate only for an afternoon occasion guys, has no one ever watched a Fred Astaire movie up here, c'mon!). But nary a bride or bridesmaid were en scene. Soooooo...I guess that's how it is in their family. I also crossed through Memorial Park, a nicely laid out block-wide park originally honoring Calgary's "Great War" dead, and later the World War II and Korean soldiers who fell. Despite the shabby surroundings, the Park itself was quite lovely.

Calgary vs. Hamilton

That night, a client treated me and one of my partners to tickets to the CFL game between the Calgary Stampeders and the Hamilton Tiger Cats. CFL football may look like the American version, but they play with 12 men on the field, the field is about 10 yards wider and 10 yards longer, the end zone is 20 yards deep, and you only get three downs to make a first down. That means if you don't convert on 2nd down, you punt. This translates to much less rushing, and for me, makes CFL football almost seem like intramural rules. The offenses pass on nearly every play. I like watching more rushing than this. We arrived a couple hours early, and had a nice buffet dinner in the "Red and White Club," along with what turned out to be about half the stadium attendance. The Club was huge! They had some ridiculous cross-promotional program for awhile, then had the Ottawa vs. Montreal game on the big screen. The stadium itself, though apparently somewhat recently renovated, resembled a mid-level college stadium. Or one of the Texas high school superstadiums. Put it this way, the Odessa Permian stadium was bigger and nicer than this place. Still, the announced crowd of roughly 25,000 had an incredible time. They cheered loudly, everyone seemed to wear Stampeder jerseys and jackets, and they focused on every play. The game itself was a snoozefest. No one could move the ball. It went down to nearly the end. The Hamilton kicker hesitated on a bad hold, and aborted on the field goal try that would have won the game. But it was an incredible night out-perfect temperature. Basically it was like watching a Rice Owls game in late October. But with more people.

The next day I would start by paying devotion to a treasured Canadian institution: Tim Horton's. Its like a Dunkin' Donuts, only a little larger and more pervasive. Its their answer to Starbucks, though they have a more extensive menu. Its a donut store that expanded to other items. I had the oatmeal with "berries," or more accurately, artificial berry product. Because, #TeamHealth. 

I would devote the rest of the day to exploring the city further. Prince's Island Park occupies a spit of land in the Bay River running through town, just north of and bordering downtown. Home to walking paths, gardens, an outdoor theater (showing performances of Shakespeare's A Comedy of Errors), Calgarians were walking their dogs, enjoying picnics, feeding the ducks, jogging, bicycling...basically enjoying the fact that the Polar Vortex had gone away. Though I kept expecting the blizzard any minute the whole time I was there, because, the Great White North eh. The Park abuts right up against downtown, but you don't feel like you're in the middle of town because trees obscure much of the view and you can't hear a lot of city noise. All in all, the Park provides a really peaceful oasis. I imagine many office workers come here for lunch. Except, you know, when its not 10 degrees below zero. Like I imagine it is nine months out of the year.

Prince's Island Park

The Bow River contains the bluest water I've ever seen. It resembled beach photos from places like the Caymans or Fiji, with stunningly blue water. Guess that's what happens when you don't have paper plants or refineries up stream, huh? The city has installed bike and walking pathways on both banks, though they're paved (and accordingly inferior to the Lady Bird Lake Trail in every way). Not that many people had ventured out, despite the great weather. It was a sunny day, with a nice breeze. I spent at least a couple of hours out on the trail.

Kensington

At the farthest end, it leads to the Kensington neighborhood. In London, Kensington is where the richey rich live. Here, that's probably also the case. But Calgary's Kensington residents would probably be arrested on vagrancy charges if they showed up in the London Kensington district. Its that part of town where the (used) Volvo drivers live. Somewhat nicer homes. Gated streets. Tree canopy. Natural food grocery stores. Drive-thru banks. I stopped at a little place, Higher Ground Café, for an iced tea. Which they had to make by first brewing a small pot of tea, and then pouring it over ice. Because they're savages, lets just be blunt, k? But hey, shop local, amiright?  And there were more interesting looking people here than at the Starbuck's two doors down. Really, it was literally two doors down from another coffee shop. And thankfully, Starbucks didn't seem to be winning the local Coffee War.

Headed back the other way and back on the south bank, the "Riverwalk" provided some great river views. It passed alongside several construction projects and ultimately gave way to a makeshift faux "farmer's market/craft market" installation. Replete with luxury portable toilets and food trucks. Which for me is roughly the same thing, but I know no one else agrees so I'll let it go.

Fiestaval

As I headed back into town, I stumbled upon the "Latin Fiestaval" in the Olympic Plaza. This was a jumping party. The Plaza was packed, and one Latin act after another took the stage. Food trucks, vendors, and others crowded the Plaza. Lots of people danced, while others enjoyed the scene. It went on through the night. Who knew this many Latinos lived in Calgary?

From there, I went to Glenmore Park, south of town. Reputedly it had a great trail looping around Glenmore Reservoir, starting at a small marina. And for a few yards, the paved trail does provide a fantastic view of the city. Then, trees and other vegetation obscure the view. So it wound up being a trudge through a neighborhood park. Oh, and with signs everywhere that they had just applied pesticides so don't contact any plants or grasses. Nice.

Dinner was kind of non-descript. Ruth's Chris. Blah. Chain food.

NEXT-I spend the day in Banff

50th Birthday

I turn 50 on August 11th. Shudder. I'd love to hide in a shallow ditch somewhere and deny the reality. But people seem insistent that I do something fun or otherwise nonsensical. 

I'm at a loss. 

Ideas? 

I figure anyone who's reading is bound to be extremely unsettled, err, creative. 

What say you, Affirmers?

If anyone is still reading this.   

Happy Fourth: change and the Great College Football Uniform Disaster

New Oklahoma uniforms

Hope everyone has a great Fourth. Enjoy the fireworks. Watch some baseball. Eat WAY too much. Wallow. Basically celebrate the way of life that is #merica. Because unlike France or Germany or China or most other places, our country is more of an idea or shared belief set than a racial or ethnic grouping. We're like the Borg: we take from every other culture and make our own.

But that's not exactly what I want to talk about. I want to talk about...Change. Actually I want to talk about football uniforms. But first...Change. 

The older I get the more difficult I find it to change. Not the nickels and dimes variety (though that too). But in the nothing staying like the way its supposed to kind of change. Seems like just when you get used to something or finally understand or master something, its obsolete, or no longer supported, or passé, or a relic of a bygone age.

For a country that by design imports people from other places, a certain level of change was always intended. The Pilgrims brought the uptight. The Africans brought music and foods and expressions. Most immigrants bring industriousness and risk taking. The Irish brought the St. Patrick's Day drunken brawl. So our country has always been evolving. 

Lately more so. If you thought the 60s or 70s saw a lot of change, these days must kill you. Everything sort of kind of looks the same, but its not, mainly because everything happens so quickly. Or, to those not approaching 50, things happen at a totally normal speed and its only old people who can't keep pace. Technology drives changes these days, not unlike how it has for hundreds of years. I'll bet there were Reeders slumped over in caves furious that everyone wants cooked meat over their fancy new "fire" invention, while we enjoyed our ever-tasty raw gazelle meat (or whatever we could track down...knowing the Reeders, it was probably a hedge hog or some near-inert beast incapable of putting up a fight).

Ideas and accepted norms change too, and quite rapidly. Only in the last 10 -15 years has a consensus emerged supporting not only legalizing homosexuality but gay marriage. As late as 1986, the US Supreme Court held that criminal "sodomy" laws were constitutional. Other examples abound. Acceptance of women executives and professional as something other than exceptions and curiosities. Of single, working mothers and other non-nuclear, traditional families. Of interracial marriage. Of non-traditional medicine. Of soccer. Disapproval of public smoking, drinking and driving, other risky activities. A greater affinity for government regulation. The waning of the dominant Christian Culture. The ascendance of minority cultural and social attributes into the mainstream. The rise of the "security state." More explicit violence, sex, and language in movies and TV shows. The "self-help" "self-improvement" ethic. And the Canadian migratory parasite known as "the Bieber." In general, the arc is towards greater permissiveness and acceptance, or as Cole Porter put it, "Anything Goes." To someone who gets upset if they move the break room utensils to a different drawer at work, its a lot to grasp. Fortunately for many of you, unrestrained face binging on artificial preservative-laden fat and sugar substances still tops the American charts.

People both resist and embrace change. I have to confess to a certain amount of Amishness. I'm of the "that shirt is just as good today as it was 25 years ago when I bought it" mentality. If its worked for 200 years, there's no reason to do anything different. Others, however, buy every new gadget that comes out, change cars every year, change their hair, their clothes, their address, their jobs, their friends. Nothing's ever good enough, and things get stale really quickly. Count me as not part of that group.

It's not so much that change itself is bad or good. It just is. It depends in the change. I'm sure there were plenty of freedom-loving Americans who thought eliminating slavery would ruin the country. (Among them my two Reeder ancestors who mustered in to the Confederate Army. Popular move then, now not so much). Just as there were millions who thought Prohibition would save the country. So nothing is "good" or "bad" just because it's new. That's why the whole "it's time for a change" political slogan makes no sense. I'm sure Hitler probably ran on "it's time for a change" too. 

[Jarring segue ahead.] 

So, like many others experiencing news fatigue, money fatigue, work fatigue, change fatigue...fatigue fatigue, I like to turn to sports. Sports doesn't change much. Does it? Sports are beautiful. Watching pure competition. They combine strategy and intelligence with physical ability. If you've played a sport you can appreciate the skill level and grasp the inner workings, enhancing your enjoyment. And sports shouldn't change, right? Baseball is baseball, football is football, basketball is basketball. You can always count on sports to provide that oasis amidst life's turbulence.

Uh, yeah, not so much.

You see, sports are businesses too. Even at the college level. Don't let that "student athlete" garbage fool you. The major college athletic programs in this country are major corporations trying to maximize profit just the same as any other huge organization. So they "respond" to consumer demands and try to appeal to their customers as much as possible. The game you grew up has changed so much, in all the major sports, that in some ways they're hard to recognize.

In some respects, the same forces that affect the rest of us have altered sports. As sports have grown in popularity, salaries have risen sharply and the "workers" have invested more to stay competitive. Unlike the old-timers who sold insurance during the off-season and who barely trained outside of practice, today's pro and college athletes have one job-preparing themselves to play their sport. They train year round. They consult nutritionists, sports doctors, acupuncturists, herbalists, psychologists, private coaches, and trainers. Today's athlete bears little resemblance to those of even 25 years ago. The vaunted '70s Pittsburgh Steelers defense would look puny compared to an average NFL team of today. And as sports teams become more profitable, they can devote more time and money to improve their operations, everything from coaching to training to travel and facilities. NFL Network occasionally shows old football games (old as in from the 70s and 80s). Even from old videotape on television, the players' smaller size and mobility jumps off the screen. Complex schemes then seem like high school operations today. Even the stadiums then look like shacks today. The same holds true in baseball and basketball. 1990s and 90s NBA basketball, during the Jordan/Thomas/Malone era looked more like a UFC brawl than today's basketball. 1970s NBA games looked like today's All-Star game-no defense whatsoever (and plenty of cocaine to spread around).

Rules changes have affected the games significantly as well. The designated hitter fundamentally changed baseball, as managers no longer had to manage around having a pitcher's spot in the lineup. Football has drastically changed its rules to increase scoring; legendary defensive players like Jack Tatum or Deacon Jones would have been fined out of today's NFL. NBA rules such as the three point shot and greater enforcement of blocking rules likewise have "opened up the paint" and made the game higher scoring, with more passing and shots and transitions.

The game day experience has changed. Its become more like a Transformers movie. Players no longer just run out onto the field or the tunnel, or walk up to the plate. An entire ritual must take place before the action may commence, replete with lasers, fog, music amped up to 11, and some idiot PA announcer screaming at the top of his lungs.

Oregon State

And with that has come the change in uniforms. [I finally made it to the point. Hopefully no one was counting words to see how long that took]. as Peter Griffin would say, this really grinds my gears. The apparel companies are driving this. They're donating what I call "garish" and what kids probably call "cool" new uniforms. They feature multiple color combinations, prominent and contrasting stripes, disproportional designs, and crazy emblems. Colleges utilize them far more often than the professional leagues, though the latter seems to encourage changing designs every few years to encourage fans to run out and buy the "latest gear."  The new pro uniforms mostly keep it simple. I didn't much care for the "Iron Man" Rockets uniforms that signaled the beginning of the end of their '90s championship run. Those were cartoons. The '70s Astros "Rainbow" uniforms still take your breath away, but as children of the '70s can perhaps be viewed along with the Pet Rock, EST, and shag carpeting as relics of a bygone age.

But the colleges have really run with this, WAY past the Good Taste Boundary. Consider such atrocities as the Maryland Terrapins' "flag" uniforms, the Michigan "Killer Bees" unis, or the infamous Oregon "Tron" uniforms which change with every new game. The Oklahoma State orange highlighter pen unis. The Baylor basketball yellow highlighter unis. Joe Pesci's purple tails in My Cousin Vinny thinks those are all ugly. 



Maryland

Now Oklahoma, our Lenny-like neighbors to the North, wants in on this. Check out the mock ups. I guess it was either that or some sort of Bootsy Collins deal. 

I get that maybe 18 year old star athletes want to show their own style and not just wear two colors, one of which is white. And since the NCAA exploits these kids in every other way maybe it doesn't mind throwing them this crumb. I also get that just because a uniform has had a particular style since 1950 that's not a valid reason to keep it forever. Actually, some of those old unis were just awful. Anyone caught the Steelers' throwback unis? They look like some steelworker threw up on a Scrabble board.



Oregon 



But don't change to something so hideous it will send half the alumni section into convulsions just to get some 4-star linebacker from Muleshoe to play for you a couple of years (til he leaves campus with concussions and an ACL tear and functionally illiterate because your training schedule kept him from studying). Sucks is sucks. Who's to say the OU 1970s uniform design should remain unchanged forever? Well, me actually. It's a pretty classic look. And since most OU players come from Texas (oh snap!) it's like OU is Ishmael to our Isaac.



Baylor

Ok I don't know where I was going with that last bit.

The real reason colleges are going to these alternate unis is to drive product sales. All the face-painter fans will go buy jerseys, hats, t-shirts and the like sporting the new design. It's another revenue source. Because the schools are all in it for the student-athlete and education first. Right. For that we must watch games where the teams are dressed like a Rollerball match.

So can we stop with the neon, amped up me unis? Until you can top the traditional look just keep what you've got. USC, UCLA, Notre Dame, Alabama, Penn State...they seem to be doing just fine without neon streaks and when they take the field, they carry on a long tradition which the unis reinforce.  I'm sure Texas will one day succumb to thirst shenanigan. It'll be a shame when it does because that home uniform looks just as good now as when the 1963 team wore it and won the national championship. And the 1969 team. And 1970 and 2005. Because you see A&M, we've won actual real championships, not like your 100 years after the fact theoretical contrived championships you declared after everyone on the team died of old age.



Vince Young

And, after all, this is what a champion looks like...

That seems like a good note on which to end. Go America! 

Are You Living the #BallerLifestyle?

Living the #BallerLifestyle

Still ballin', until the day I die
You can bring your crew, but we remain true
--Tupac Shakur, "Still Ballin'"

I can’t hoop, but people still call me a baller,
and I can’t shoot, but people still call me a shot-caller.

--Slim Thug, "Dirty South"

Yeah, I'm into hard core rap now.

Are you living the #BallerLifestyle? How many times have I made some reference to being #Baller in my posts, either here or on Facebook or Twitter? If you're under 35, that probably makes some sense to you. But for the rest of you, who, uh, might not exactly fall into that particular demographic, you probably don't have a clue what this means. Well its time I drop some knowledge on you.

Living the #BallerLifestyle (# of course as a Twitter reference) essentially means you're a Baller. Uh, ok, self-referential. What does that mean?

A Baller makes decisions based on appearance, status, and impressing others than whether it makes any practical or logical sense.

Without going all linguistics professor on you, it comes from basketball. Guys say that a good player "can ball." Or call playing the game "balling." So a Baller originally was someone who was an incredible player. 

Then it took on the largesse of some of the top NBA stars, who have more money than they know what to do with. These are the guys who buy home acquariums and fill them with...sharks. Buy hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry and cars and clothes and private planes, for themselves and their posse, because who needs to save money? Ballers prowl clubs, and never pay for drinks because someone else is always buying. Ballers make incredibly poor investment choices. Ballers have all kinds of party friends. They live large, showing off their money and possessions. Like the protagonist in Carly Simon's "You're So Vain," Ballers are where they should be, all the time. They use the most up to date street language.

Anyway, Baller culture has become glorified in some circles. Mainly rap and the like. Similarly, its parodied as well, and this is what I really like. The awesome Baller Lifestyle Podcast, has become a weekly staple in my listening habits. There's a Baller Status web site, which details Ballers' comings and goings.

Who is a Baller?  Ballers include:

Hef

Hugh Hefner (possibly the greatest Baller of all time)
Lindsay Lohan (women can be Ballers, its just more difficult for them)
Tony Soprano (fictional characters can be Ballers)
Tony Montana (see above)
Floyd Mayweather
Alan Iverson
Donald Trump
Bill Clinton
Don Draper
Frank Sinatra
Michael Irvin
Johnny Manziel
Justin Timberlake (he's both "Alba'd" and "Biel'ed", is Fallon's favorite guest, and has straight up skillz on the court)


A serious #BallerMove

Kenny Powers
Dennis Rodman

What are some Baller moves?

• Negotiating the time and place you will "surrender" yourself to the authorities. Having your own scheduled appointment for your arrest is very #Baller
• Having your own bodyguards, but still carrying a loaded gun.
• Having a driver.
• Wearing dreamcycle colored suits, with about six buttons, while you sent at the end of the bench while on injured reserve
• Arriving at clubs with several women, and having your own roped off area.
• Flying in a private jet ("You know I keeps a private jet!")
• Sitting in the Owner's Box
• Playing in the High Roller's area at the Bellagio or the Wynn or Caesar's (Golden Nugget-off strip casinos aren't Baller)
• Parachute jumping on your 90th birthday
• Having a tattoo of your own face
• Wearing a fur coat...to your own felony drug trial
• Having 12 kids by eight women, and not remembering all their names
• Grabbing the mike from Taylor Swift at the Video Music Awards
• Telling your limo driver "you didn't see nothing" after you help out in a murder
• Marrying any Kardashian (after getting her knocked up, obvi)
• Face tattoo
• Buying your own semi
• Running up a $100,000 bar tab, one month before your sport locks out the players
• Hiring a shark keeper, for your pet sharks
• Having a temperature controlled, security protected, mirrored showroom for your 1,000+ sneaker collection
• Being single, and having a $60 million, 10 acre mansion
• Driving from Cleveland to NYC, starting in a Porsche, then en route buying a Bentley because you're tired of shifting gears
• Buying a $100,000 fish pond just before you go to jail for dogfighting
• Buying every seat on a Southwest flight so you can fly home alone

One question you may ask is, what's the difference between a douchebag and a Baller? I'd say a douchebag is a pretender. Someone trying to be #Baller, but utterly without game. Like, this young lady on the left, for example.

But a true #Baller has some swag. A #Baller carries #stackz. A #Baller goes #BIG. A #Baller pours one out for his boys. This guy here is a #Baller:





Bush 41

Do you think you may be a #Baller? Take this quiz and it may tell you.

Trick point. #Ballers don't take quizzes.

Obvs, I'm not a #Baller. Too much saving for retirement and planning for the future. Today I signed the latest version of my will. Not very #Baller.  Too few tattoos. Not enough bitches and hoes. No sharks. I eat a sensible breakfast every day and wear khakis. No #game.

But I try, in my own way. I try.

Next-It may be awhile. I'll check back soon.

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

Rebel Without A Cause

Again, sorry for the long time between posts. I know, I know. Weeds are growing around here. I've been busy making money and losing sleep, people. No time to make fun of Gwyneth Paltrow and Tom Cruise. Which just means my priorities are WAY out of whack.

But back to the salt mines.

At this year's TCM Classic Film Festival, I overheard many people waiting on line commenting along the lines of "they sure don't make them like they used to." I totally agree and thought I'd write why that's true, and why its ok that this is true. I'm not sure we'd really want them to be made like they used to. At least, not all of them.

By "them" or "'em," this crowd (and many others) mean movies of course. Twenty-first century movies do not greatly resemble movies from 30-40 years ago, and bear even less resemblance to the "classic" studio system movies made during the 1940s and 50s. 

I don't see many first release movies anymore. Too much to do, too little time. It seems almost quaint now that some people can spare three hours (an hour to go to the theater and back, and two hours at the movie), to watch an entire movie, beginning to end, no interruptions or bathroom breaks. And pay hurricane-driven scarcity prices for styrofoamy popcorn in the process. Who are these people who can do that? Though, I still love the Paramount Theater Summer Classic Film Series, and see as many as I can. Hey, I'll gladly devote the time to watch something like Casablanca or Lawrence of Arabia or Singin' In the Rain for the millionth time, in an elegant surrounding, with other people who love those movies (and don't talk on their phones). Tomorrow I'm going to a double feature of From Russia With Love and Goldfinger. That's how its done, son. Anyway, that's what drew me to the TCM Festival. But I don't go to new movies in part because not much interests me. Take a look at what gets released. The fourth or fifth sequels to comic book movies. Extremely formulaic and trite romantic comedies. Gross-out horror movies. Disaster movies. Judd Apatow comedies (fat guy, hot girl, improbable hookup where fat guy comes of  age, lots of dick jokes). Tom Cruise's semi-annual "butch" movies (in the last few years, he's been a spy, a future world astronaut, another spy, a Wehrmacht officer, still another spy, and a rock star..honey, you need to give it up). Or incredibly pretentious, insufferable independent movies where nothing really happens. Like some French existentialist couple arguing over socks, then smoking cigarettes and drinking absinthe while ridiculing Americans. Starring Gwyneth Paltrow and Sean Penn, obvs.

Good movies still exist of course. Most of the recent Oscar winners are outstanding. Pretty much anything Clint Eastwood or Martin Scorcese or Wes Anderson touch turns out well. I really loved Silver Linings Playbook. Nearly every Pixar movie is outstanding. I'm leaving out many others. But I'd still rather just watch the Blues Brothers. Or Animal House. Or Sound of Music. Or the Quiet Man. Or any of hundreds of movies made between the late 1930s and the 1980s. Why is that?

Ostensibly, movies today are so much better than movies then, in nearly every way. The sets are better, the special effects are better. The acting is far better. Compare today's best performers (Christian Bale, Tom Hanks, Daniel Day-Louis, Meryl Streep, Cate Blanchett, Natalie Portman) with the matinee idols. No question, today's stars are far better and more convincing actors. Though maybe not as glamorous, and certainly they work with far less compelling material. The photography is better. The sound is far better. The costumes, locations, directing. All better.

What's not better, and what in most instances pales in comparison, is the stories. And writing.

There's really only a handful of stories in the world. We just recycle and reset these stories over and over and over. The trick isn't to find a new story so much as to tell it differently. Hollywood used to do that very well. Not so much now. Style takes great precedence over substance.  Every movie consists of just enough plot to where the explosions or the sex or the killings make sense. But no more plot or dialogue than that. Today's movies seem formulaic. Focus group tested to hit just the right themes that appeal to the most likely audience members. Remember that great scene in The Player, where Peter Gallagher (and his trained eyebrows) reels off movie ideas with little to no thought? Movie ideas that you could totally see being made today, that is. That really shows how today, movies are just business, with creativity and originality representing drawbacks, not advantages. Everyone knows how Spiderman 5 will do...making something original by someone original represents too much of a financial risk these days.

And the dialogue...often dreadful. I think at one point in one of those miserable Star Wars prequels, a love scene literally consisted of Natalie Portman saying "stop it" as Anakin Skywalker tried to kiss her, followed by her giving in. They exaggerate characters through outlandish statements, which must pack extra punch because time devoted to characters talking takes time away from characters blowing up things or chasing each other or getting down by the fire. Which is what your average Racine, Wisconsin assistant tire center manager and his cheese store clerk wife want to see. Those tag lines have to substitute for plot and signal the audience about what kind of character they're seeing. As opposed to, you know, just following a story and having that reveal itself over a couple of hours. And, in the immortal words of Cole Porter, anything goes. The Production Code stifled creativity and expression, of course, but in many ways it forced movie makers to convey themes in a more subtle way. Brick's possible homosexuality in Cat On a Hot Tin Roof. Holly Golightly's occupation as a prostitute in Breakfast at Tiffany's. And so forth. One could argue this required more subtlety, greater nuance. Now, with no such inhibitions, filmmakers seem to revel in depicting the graphic or obvious. The audience no longer must connect the dots and figure out what's really happening. The movie splays it out for all to see. No thinking involved.

Say what you will about the studio system. They were also concerned with making money. The stories of producers' creative interference were legendary. But the studio system made some revolutionary movies. On the Waterfront. Sunset Boulevard. The Godfather. Bonnie and Clyde. And so on. Those guys knew they couldn't just repackage the same movie and make it over and over again. They were willing to take risks. Not all of them paid off. But those that did often achieved spectacular creative and artistic heights. And made a hell of a lot of money in the process.

Today's filmmakers though do face more challenges than during "the good old days." In many ways, they can't "make 'em like they used to" because the audience has changed. Americans grew up. We have money now. Even into the 1960s, most people lacked significant disposable income. Most people didn't attend college, travel abroad (or at all), there were three or four TV channels tops, and society was far more structured and separated than today. Homogeneity ruled the day. Audiences were simpler then. Movies like Stagecoach or Roman Holiday gained extra traction because few Americans in the 1930s had ever seen Monument Valley. Or in the 1950s had actually seen Rome. Or flown on an airplane. Or talked on a long-distance call longer than two minutes. People are in many ways more sophisticated and knowledgeable now. We've grown up, and even though the average American's intelligence may be wanting, American experience is not. So Frank Capra movies, with their relatively simple and wholesome themes, played so well to 1930s and 40s audiences but maintains their stature more out of nostalgia than contemporary appeal. Can you imagine Some Like It Hot today? The whole premise would be ridiculed.

I can go on with other criticisms. Often obvious and blatant direction and editing, such as flash cuts, long pans, or hand held cameras, which call attention to themselves rather than enhance the story. Movies that conspicuously rely on awesome top hits or classic rock songs, hellbent on driving soundtrack sales. Miscast stars ruining movies they obviously don't belong in, just to drive ticket sales. But you get the idea.

Actually, they do make 'em like they used to today. On television. Specifically on cable. That's where you find literate, intelligent, challenging dramas like the Sopranos, Mad Men, Breaking Bad. These shows take creative risks, they require their audiences to "keep up," they have the luxury of telling stories over a greater time so they can imbue the characters with greater depth, and they can introduce new plot elements as the show develops. If you want to see high quality dramas, watch cable.

NEXT-Are you living the #BallerLifestyle?