Utterly Useless Knowledge

I was woken up early by my dad, who came in slowly, quietly to my bedroom after trying to process the news he and my mother had received 45 minutes previously. The unthinkable. It was a bright, shiny Sunday morning, the sun just now coming through the curtain of my east window. I had been at a friend's house the night before playing music in our high school garage band. Had it not been for the band, and the fact that I was scheduled to work at the grocery store that Sunday morning, who's to say I wouldn't have been out at that party with them Saturday night? Dad sat down on the edge of my bed, placed his hand on my shoulder, shaking it gently.  "Buddy... Buddy wake up." I rolled over quickly. Dad never woke me up in the mornings. "I've got some really bad news to tell you..." His eyes visibly red, his voice weak and shaky.  "...You lost two friends last night." "Who?" Twenty years is an eternity, and also a blink of an eye. A comm...

My first bike was a Huffy. Thunder Road 42, to be exact.  It had blue fenders and a number plate on the front of the handlebars, but it wasn't a real dirt bike.  It was on the market in the early 80's, in the transition from early 70’s banana seats to real BMX bikes for kids.  I got it as a birthday present when I was 5.  I was too young to ride it, so Dad put training wheels on it.  Training wheels weren't meant for the disjointed, tree root-displaced sidewalks of Malvern; normal walking was treacherous.  So it was a few days of boring circles in the driveway, then the luster wore off.   One day, my Dad took the training wheels off of the bike, and Mom wanted to work with me on my balance in the backyard.  Our yard sloped from east to west-right to left as you looked from our deck.  She started me at the east end of the yard, hanging on to a bar on the back of my bike seat, jogging behind me, keeping me upright as we quickly picked up...

It was called the rest home by most in town, but it certainly wasn't the type of place that the elderly go to shuffle up & down hallway corridors aimlessly, or lay in bed waiting out their last days on earth. The group home was in a century-old hotel, just east of Main on 3rd St. For me, it was across the street from Granny's house, across from the Leader Office and directly behind Randy's Tastee Sweet. It was named Nishna Cottage, and it was home for a collection of ex-junkies, the mentally disabled, and other various adults with mental and physical disabilities that, to an impressionable youth, appeared to have been forgotten about by family, if they had any left that would still claim them. The structure itself had served as a hotel in the late 19th early 20th century. It was on the payroll as a state institution, loosely affiliated wit the Glenwood State Hospital & School, a fifteen minute drive west of town. The residents, from what I could tell, were free t...

I had never made it before, since I consider most sausage or bacon substitutes made with turkey to be direct insults to any turkey of distinction (or any hog, for that matter). It caught my eye in the frozen food section of the Pac-N-Save, as I was planning out some weekend meals. Mixed Berry Buckwheat Waffles with Turkey sausage links. With the endless bushels of leaves to rake, and the dreaded, long overdue cleaning of the once mouse-ridden shed, this seemed like a decent plowman's breakfast on a fall Sunday (Sorry....no pics). As we made it all up Sunday morning, I was captivated by the aroma of those links sizzling away. One of those rare but welcomed moments where an aroma pulls you out of your time and place, and takes you back to a memory only formed over years of expereinces there. I said it repeatedly to my wife, "It smells like Gran's kitchen in here." "Is that a good thing?", she replied. Always a good thing. That green screen door. One of those t...

I talk a lot about what I consider to be home. I suppose that definition is different for everyone. I remember going to college and making friends, most of which never really bothered to go back to their hometowns to visit friends & family very often. They got out, and for the most part, they stayed out. Home may bring up scars, pain, memories to be forgotten. They seek to find their own place. Many have, and many are making memories in that place they now call home. It's not the same for everyone. I consider myself fortunate, to be sure. I get ribbed at work for how often I go back home. It's not even 2 hours away, and recently I needed to be there often to help with my parents' move. But it doesn't take much for me to find an excuse to come home, even when nothing is going on. I've thought a lot about why it still means so much to me. Part of it comes from my family, and the deep sense of community and love there was in how the town treated my Uncle Burt all ...

I was finally able to catch Ardency Rue back in Malvern over Homecoming weekend. Darren Schnoor & Adam Giaffoglione played a long set down at Bowley's Bistro after the game on Friday night. They've been playing together for over 5 years, and their experience is really showing. Now if I could only get them to play me some Tenacious D.... They've got some of their stuff up on their page , so check em out. Adam likes Corona. Darren pees a lot. Just some observations. Random Trivia: Darren & Dixon, back in the day, formed a band the likes of which have never been seen....what did they call themselves, and what was the first song they played together? It was a good crowd, but for once in my lifetime, there were actually 3 options for revelers to choose from for their Friday night downtown carousing. Charlie & Cindy have their place going well, and with a town the size of Malvern, that's no small feat. Bradley's opened up recently, and has been doing a very ...

A classic image that I took in front of my hometown bar one Sunday morning. What I would've paid to be in on that discovery & subsequent conversation. Awesome. Feel free to suggest a caption for this photo in the Comments section.

I thought I'd try my hand at creating a slideshow of some of my favorite pictures that I've shot in recent years. ((Photo Geeks: the majority of these were taken with a Canon Powershot G6. That's the best I can do until Santa brings me something better, but I'm not worried about it)) While I've got a LOT of work to do to get better at all of the steps, in getting a good shot, there's been some hidden gems that at least I like to think are "okay" shots. It's a bunch of different stuff, with some random pictures of things & friends thrown in. UPDATE: I think this slideshow will have to do in this location for now. Blogger is being difficult with putting it over on the right side, and I'm not a programmer. I've updated the slideshow with the pictures I think I wanted in it for a first time out. I'll update the show from time to time, and maybe move it up to the front page when it slips. I'm sure I should've watermarked these, ...

Ahhh, the game of Jenga. Sweet, innocent Jenga. I never had the game growing up. It appears that it's made a bit of a renaissance comeback in recent years. As a family, my side rediscovered it this past Christmas, as we gave the game to our niece Ashleigh as a present. Soon after the gift was opened, it was full-fledged Jenga war playing itself out on the kitchen table. I'm pretty certain that the adults had more fun with it than the game's new rightful owner....a 6 year-old. For something to hold this 67 year-old's concentration like this is a feat that even '60 Minutes' cannot do. Remarkable. After at least three rounds and many hoots & hollers later, the game of Jenga had been deemed a new holiday tradition, to be on the same list of traditions such as the annual viewing of Christmas Vacation, Ida's cookie & candy trays, deviled eggs, and the ham & cheese ball. Lofty company, indeed. I had heard about the Jones version of Jenga. Sure, there we...

This post goes out to Jason, by request. I mentioned that buying cigarettes in Canada (if you're so inclined) could be a financial adventure, with tobacco taxes at their highest in Alberta. I don't normally smoke heaters, but with a few beverages in me, I've been known to bum a few from time to time. Such an occasion arose at the wedding after hours party down at the Drake Inn in Canmore, AB . My buddy Jason had long since run out of Parliaments that he bootlegged in from the States. He wasn't able to hold out a 2nd night without scoring some nicotine. He hit me up to go in with him on a pack. So we made our way downstairs from the main bar and dance floor of the Drake to a set of double doors. I walked through the doors and exclaimed, "What. Is. THIS!?" It was the bar I was looking for. Not some club with a fairly shitty reggae band (which did fit the bill nicely for a group of mostly drunk wedding-goers, including the bride and groom). I only say shitty regg...

Back after a much-needed vacation, or "holidays" as they say in Canada. We just got back from a week in the Canadian Rockies for the highly anticipated Hertz-Screpnek wedding in Canmore, AB. Many more thoughts to come on this week of good times, but here's a few quick highlights..... First of all, not sure if you knew this or not, but the Canadian Rockies really need to be seen to believe. Someone told us that the Colorado or Wyoming Rockies are beautiful, but the Canadian Rockies are majestic. I think that sums it up. Every new direction you looked driving up the highway towards the Columbia Ice Fields, you couldn't help but say, "Gooooo!"(For you Canucks, that's a good thing.), or "Oh, Duuuude...". ((Also, for clarification, is use of the term "Canuck" a bad slang term for Canadians? Clarification, please. For now, I'll keep using it.)) Canadians. Beautiful people. I say that first because here's where I get into discussion...

We moved to the farmhouse on Bluegrass Rd. in the Winter of early 1984. I don't remember much about the circumstances at the time, but over the years I've come up with theories. The most exciting part about the move to the farm for me was that I would be able to ride the bus to and from school. I had always been jealous of friends who lived in the country, and never passed up an opportunity to ride their bus for a sleepover, or a birthday party. The novelty of the school bus wore off in time, but that was my first memory of living at the farm. I spent the rest of my formative years in that house. We never farmed, it's working years had ceased after Uncle Ralph passed away in 1982. We were essentially the keepers of the property. Mom & dad never purchased the home, and until Aunt Bernice passed away earlier this year, it was never really offered. But by then, it was time for them to move on. I guess it was time for the whole family to move on. There had been a working ...

Many of you who saw "The Lamb Experiment" on the Malvernia.com website have to be asking yourselves, "What was THAT all about, and where did it come from?" Well, after seeing it myself, I can't say I blame you. At the request of one Mr. Kent Hertz , and at my blessing, I'm now apparently linked in to that fine online publication from my hometown. That is to say, you're stuck with me, I guess. Consider it the 2008 version of "Grannies Have More Fun". Only I'm not a Granny. And I don't play Bridge. Crap, that's two strikes. But I digress.....While I cannot promise you timely news on any and all things Malvern, Iowa, I hope I can be of some small contribution to the overall experience. Ahhh, who am I kidding. I'm just a former native with a new "toy" at my disposal called a blog. But hopefully with Kent's help I can spare you many of the irrelevant posts that you will undoubtedly be dumber for having read, and post t...