Tonight, I had the pleasure of watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on TV.

Now, as childhood memories go, that one is pretty stupendous.  Huge.  Enormous.

I think for me, as a kid, that was one of the best nights of the entire year.  It meant a lot of things to me, really.

It was excitement.  Entertainment.   It was imagination. It was dreaming, and hoping, and anticipation.

When Rudolph came on TV it was one very special attraction in living rooms across America.  But in my mind.  Oh the splendor of it all.

The timing of the show…. meant that Christmas was around the corner.  Santa’s sleigh, filled with presents.  That crack of the dawn Christmas morning… with all the trimmings, frankincense, yule tide, chestnuts, comfort, joy and the likes.  Probably a new clothing item… .maybe a new GI Joe with a Kung-Fu Grip.  Ahhhhhh…. the beauty of that phenomenon.

But the Rudolph Show itself was magical.  I marveled tonight when I realized it is just an hour in length.  As a child, it seemed to go on all night.

And the part when the Abominable Snowman peers over the top of the mountain ridge!  As a kid, I thought I would pee myself when that happened.  Tonight was much the same… but for different reasons.  Too much coffee, dang it.

Yes.  But so many lessons to be learned from Rudolph, Hermey, Clarice, Yukon Cornelius, The Snowman, aka Bumble.  And the whole island of misfits.  Maybe this is why I liked the show so much…. those misfits.  King Moonracer, and Charlie-In-The-Box,  and Bird Fish, and such.  Oh, that island was a place where anyone could fit in.

This little film had it all.  Singing, Dancing, Pet Tricks, Career Advice, Drama, Suspense, Comedy.  Not only that…. but good Santa, Rudy, and the gang, figured out a way to find a perfect place in the world for every one of those toys. Every one. Yep.  How great is that?

And maybe that is why I still have the belief that all of us belong.  All of us deserve to fit.  Each and every person has their own perfect place in the world.  I only wish we could figure out a way to make that really work.

So.

Thank heaven for the square wheels on the caboose of Trainer the train.  How else could it be.

It is perfect.

Sometimes life turns this way and that.

It will twist.  It might even twiddle.  Other times… it forges paths we never knew were there.

It winds, and narrows, then broadens, and curls around.

Rarely is it one clear wide open road… a trek we can see from start to finish.

Nope.  It turns around corners.. … . goes over the river and through the woods, and up and down the hills… and the dales.

The curliest of Qs.

There are moments when we have the answers to those Qs.  And other times… it is simply best to explore the winding path.  Bending, always bending.

“If one advances confidently in the direction of one’s dreams, and endeavors to live the life which one has imagined, one will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” – Henry David Thoreau

Dang. The more information I learn about this world… the more clearly I see the whole of what I don’t know. Which is a lot.

Just when I get some clarity… or think I am starting to get a push in the right direction… here comes a big gust of wind from another bearing.

I heard someone say today that their priorities change “like a fart in the wind.”

Now…. I was familiar with the old analogy… “a candle in the wind.” But this fart in the wind thing adds a whole other dimension to life, I will tell you.

But back to the gathering of information. I like to learn knew things… but it reminds me that there is so much I don’t know yet. Which then becomes exciting… because there is so much to learn.

Okay. A few things I picked up on today.

A Pretzelbender…. now that is a good one. A Pretzelbender can be many things. 1. A peculiar person; an eccentric; one who thinks in a round-about manner. 2. A player of the French horn. 3. A wrestler. 4. A heavy drinker; one who frequents bars.

I once was one kind of Pretzelbender… and now I am a different kind of Pretzelbender. How’s that for transitions in life… like a fart in the wind!

Next good thing I learned….the Japanese have some interesting words. Like this: Karoshi (Japanese): Death from being overworked. I think a lot of Americans think they experience Karoshi. But in Japan, I think it is a literal term. Terminally literal. Or literally terminal.

Speaking of terminal. Trees lose their leaves to prepare for winter. I don’t get this. I would think the leaves would keep the tree warmer in the winter… like guys who grow beards. Or Circus Ladies who grow beards. But instead… the trees drop trow. Nakers in the wind. Brrrrrrrr.

On to the lighter side… if you pluck your Glabella… use a tweezers. But if you decide to pluck your Zither… use a pick. I bet if I didn’t pluck my Glabella, I wouldn’t have one at all.

And BOO! Now if you are a left-hander, that probably scared you more than the right handed readers out there. You see… lefties are more affected by fear. That may be because the right side of the brain, which is dominant in lefties, is more involved in the fear response. Sorry I scared you just then.

And finally….

I think it is true that we don’t really need to learn anything at all in order to treat other people fairly… and to walk through this world in a gentle way.

This “know-how”….. this wisdom….. is inside us. It always has been. Very early on, we instinctively know how to treat others. We grasp this…. because we are fundamentally aware of how we want others to treat us. We know it works the same for everyone.

Unfortunately, this primitive knowledge gets buried under the classifications, pigeon holes, and prejudices we pick up along the way…. in this thing we call life.

Yet…. if we stay quiet enough… for long enough…. we can listen to our spirits and trust our hearts.

We can cherish and celebrate this world, and the others in it… while we are all learning… about all the things we don’t really know.

Whelp. That’s all for tonight.   I do know this……   I sure am glad I gave up Professional Wrestling… so that I have more time to practice the French Horn. We Pretzel Benders have to practice good grooming too… like plucking our Glabellas.

“The beginning of knowledge is the discovery of something we do not understand.” – Frank Herbert

I am a football fan.

I like college ball, and I really like to watch the NFL games.  In fact, I like to watch most any football game, truth be told.  I am not sure why… but I do.

So.  NFL.  I have some favorite teams.  Most of my friends know I am a Steelers fan.  But I really like the Kansas City Chiefs.  My two best teams.

Others that I pull for:  St. Louis Rams.  Cleveland Browns.  Green Bay Packers, New York Giants, and Arizona Cardinals.

Still other teams…. well… there are a few that  I absolutely can’t stand.  But for the most part…. a bunch of the teams just fall in the middle of the road for me.

But.. those Steelers.  I like them for a lot of reasons.   The fifth-oldest franchise in the NFL, the Steelers were founded on July 8, 1933 by Arthur Joseph Rooney.  Art Rooney, the Chief.

Originally named the Pittsburgh Pirates… they were one of 10 teams in the NFL.   These days… just four other of the original teams are still around:    Chicago (Arizona) Cardinals, Green Bay Packers, Chicago Bears and New York Giants.

When the team started, in 1933  …. they weren’t so great.  In fact… it took them 40 years to win their first Division Title.  So they are a team that didn’t lay down.  They finally got around to winning a few games here and there.

How about that?

But here are two more reasons I like them.

1. No cheerleaders.  That’ right.  No exploitative, scantily clad women, shaking their booties on the sidelines.  Don’t get me wrong.  I think Cheerleading is a great sport.  But when it turns into the Playboy Bunnies with Pom-Poms… well…   just got to a strip joint for that.

2. The Terrible Towels.  Now.  Before you cast judgement on the Towel… hear this. Myron Cope, the Steelers’ announcer, made sure the towels are swinging in the right direction.

Funds from the sale of the towels go to the Allegheny Valley School for the Disabled.  The fund has pulled in more then $2.5 million in royalties… which have all gone to the school.

Go Pirates.  Go.

“You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else.” – Albert Einstein

I spend a little time in Charleston, SC, every now and again.  As cities go… this one has a boatload full of history.  Patriots, Aristocrats, Slaves, Soldiers, Debutantes, Scoundrels, Ghosts, and Pirates…just about any kind of history you could imagine.

One of the tidbits I like revisit is the very early beginnings.    The “city” was established in 1670.  Not long there after….Charleston was a walled fortress city….. up until 1720.

For the white residents…. mostly from England…. this was a period of constant danger from hostile French and Spanish invaders, Native American tribes, and pirates.

The best contemporary view of the walls comes from a map and survey by a guy named Edward Crisp.  His “map” is dated approximately 1704.

Nowadays….. People have been digging in the dirt down there, and figuring things out about this wall.  While it looks like the bastions may have begun as crude earthworks, it seems pretty clear that by the early 18th century they had been engineered and refined to a fairly high degree of sophistication.  At least, that’s what the experts say.

The waterfront wall was a single structure, but the inland walls consisted of double barriers separated by a moat.  A MOAT!

Entrance to the fortress was gained by two drawbridges situated near where the Four Corners of the Law stand today: the intersection of present-day Broad and Meeting Streets.  DRAWBRIDGES!

I’m like a kid in a candy store when it comes to things of moats and drawbridges.  That’s fairy tale stuff.  Fairy Tale Stuff, I’m telling you…. moats and drawbridges.  I bet they even had alligators.  Actually…. those are still hanging out down there these days.

But, I just like to imagine what it must have been like back then… in 1700…. living in a walled city.  Fearing Pirates, and the French….. and on.

I wonder if they had graffiti back then?  I am pretty sure they didn’t have spray paint… so I wonder what they used?  I wonder what they wrote.

“King Charles the Second Sucks Twice as Much as King Charles the First” ???  “Pirates are Sissy-Boys”????

“History is a set of lies agreed upon.” – Napolean Bonaparte

I notice some things.

Specifically, I notice things when I am the only human in a car for more than 12 hours.  Some of my thoughts, and observations, after such a day.

People who have vanity plates, are probably NOT their vanity plate.  Okay.  First the disclaimer.  We have a friend who is truly a softball nut.  I think her plates fit her.

Now to the rest.  I passed COOL GUY today.  He didn’t look all that cool to me.  But his Ford Fiesta was pretty neato.  And LAX MOM… she looked a little uptight when I drove past.  Now the guy with the plate that said CAR.  Thanks Sherlock.  I’m glad you cleared that up for me.

Alright enough of that.  This next thing is important, and geared toward women only.

Ladies.  If you choose to pee on public toilet seats, that is your right.  But do the rest of us a favor.  Clean up after yourself.   I mean.  What the heck are you doing in there anyway? Please.  Either line the seat with SOMETHING… and get your tinkler close to the john.   OR… learn how to hover.  But in the event that you can do neither of these things… DRY OFF THE DANG SEAT WHEN YOU ARE DONE.  Holy smokes…. do you think you are the only one that  has to use that stall all day?  Nobody wants to come in to a puddle of your dew drops.

Oh.  There’s more.

This comes with a spoiler alert… okay? … …….  Okay.  Here’s the deal.   There are NO chickens crossing the roads.  Anywhere.

Next item.

In Tennessee… Alfred Hitchcock was alive and well.  There was a freakish display of birds stalking the roadways this afternoon.  For about 10 highway lights in a row… there were large birds, lined up… watching the cars pass.  Hundreds of large birds.

And finally, The Twilight Zone.

No matter which State I was in… people were eating cheese doodles at gas stations.  It doesn’t even matter the gas station… Marathon, Shell, BP, Speedway, and on.  Every one of them… EVERY SINGLE ONE…. I pulled in to today… I came across a car  of Cheese Doodle Eaters.  Cheetos, Cheese Puffs, Cheese Curls… it just didn’t matter.  Cheese Doodles at the Pumps.

It worries me a little…  you see…. ….. I am not sure what all of this means… other than the Mayans may be right.  Or…. it could be…..  the Twinkie Shortage is be having an substantial impact on our environment.

Conformity.

Some people are better at conforming than others.  Generally, it means to comply, or agree.  Most of the time, however… “conformity” gets a bad wrap.  Great authors have often talked about surrendering to the cowardice of conformity, and such.

Yet.  If you live in society, a certain degree of conformity is required.  Without it, the fabric of that society would not work.  There’d be no jobs with standard guidelines.  Driving would be impossible.  Grocery stores would not functions without conformity.  And on and on.

Yet, with that said, I think sometimes it is good to think outside of the norms.

See new ways. Try new things.    And on occasion, say right out loud… the good ol’…. “What If.”

You see.  Getting along with others is good.  Being yourself in the process is better.

And if your robot wants to wear lipstick and a light blue pullover…  Rejoice and Be Glad.

“A red rose is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose. It would be horribly selfish if it wanted all the other flowers in the garden to be both red and roses.” – Oscar Wilde

Wednesdays Suck.

Other days of the week have nomenclature.  Status.  Whirligigs.

Not Wednesday.  Unless you count the rather uncomplimentary “Hump Day.”

All the remaining days get spotlights… attention…  Press.

Black Friday.
Cyber Monday.

You know, as Holy Days go, the middle of the week gets the bum deal again.

Good Friday.

Easter Sunday.

But on Wednesday… all you get is ashes.

Heroes, Veterans, Presidents… all honored on Mondays.  Thanksgiving always pops out of the oven on Thursday.  The working world looks forward to Friday…. which is also donned in certain markets as the wild and wonderful “Casual” Friday.  And the weekends… OH… the WEEKENDS.  Don’t get me started.  Saturday Night Fever.  Saturday Night Live. Saturday Evening Post.  And of course….  Saturday Night’s all right for fighting….

The rest of the weekend, people put on their Sunday Best.

Let’s face it.  Wednesdays Suck.

Still doubt me?

Take the Day of the Week Children’s Birth Poem thing.  What’s it called?  The Monday’s Child Poem.

All the other days are full of grace, loving and giving, fair of face, bonny and blithe.

But, Wednesday’s child is full of woe.

Today I met a dog named Berta.  She told me she was born on a Wednesday.  Look at the poor, pathetic thing.  Filled with woe.

I too… was born on a Wednesday.  Sometimes I know woe.  Other times … everything is like…. WHOA.

If I go to a Chinese Restaurant, I order and Egg Woe.  At the stream, I woe my boat.  When I get out of the shower, I put on a Bathwobe.  I drive my car down the woad….

Wednesdays.

This just in.

Well, just when you thought you knew the neighborhood…..

On the news this evening, I learned a thing or two, I’ll tell you.

A disturbing trend has been sweeping the nation in rural America.

For unexplained reasons, there has been a major escalation in Cow Gangs.  That’s right folks.  Cow Gangs.

The groups have been forming at an increasing rate of 78% in places like Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania.  While the trend appears to be the highest in the Midwest, the formation of Cow Gangs can be seen as far south as Louisiana, and as far west as Idaho.

There have also been a few reports in the northern states such as Wisconsin and Minnesota.  However that Gang activity has mostly been centered around Cheese Disputes.

In the Midwest particularly, there has been a decisive split between… what the cows themselves are calling … the Milkees, and the Meaters.

No increase violence has been reported.  In fact, there has been a single act of violence between cows.  However, more bovines can be seen standing in larger, organized groups.  No one is certain what the cause is behind the increase.  Despite that fact, Officer Krupke, of New York, seems to think it may be related to Juvenile Delinquency amongst the farm animals in general.

There will be an extensive report on 60 Minutes this coming Sunday Evening, entitled… “West Side Cow Story”

Jets.  Sharks.  Cows.  Who knows…..

“Around the corner,
Or whistling down the river,
Come on, deliver
To me!
Will it be? Yes, it will.
Maybe just by holding still,
It’ll be there!” – Tony, West Side Story

Sometimes, I have to sit back, and laugh at myself.  At the whole dang deal.

Tonight I’ve come to the revelation that I am like a walking ball of yarn.  Not the neat, nicely wound, fine ball of yarn.  That’s not me at all.  Albeit, I can be wound pretty tight on occasion.

But really, the kind of ball I am, is the one at the bottom of my Mom’s knitting basket.  It is the tangle, knotted, wrapped up, mess-of-a-ball-of-yarn.  The ball… all joined  together in an unending series of simultaneous chaotic and orderly connectedness.

That is me.

You see, I can be flippant.  I can be steady.  Nervous. Calm. Sometimes things seem easy and clear. On other occasions, they are muddy, and difficult to trudge through.  I can be happy as a lark, or as sad as Eeyore’s despondent brother.  From one extreme to the next.  Most of the time, I try my best to keep it somewhere in the middle.

The fact of the matter remains,  it is all wrapped up in one jumbled little package.  Both reasonable, and absurd.

So, I should feel right at home in the universe, for it is much the same way.   One big string of knotted connectedness.  It has its extremes.  At times it overwhelms me when I think of it all.  At any given moment on this planet, there are acts of extreme kindness, wonder, grace and love.  And at that same exact moment, in another place, there is something absolutely abhorrent and detestable happening.  Simultaneously.

I want to make a difference… all the time.  Yet. I don’t think it is possible to make a difference… all the time.  Ball of yarn, I am telling you… ball of yarn.  I want to unwind it all… and get to the bottom of this.  Yet, maybe all I can do, is to approach one knot at a time.

Yes. I have to remember to do what I can, when I can, with what I have.

It just seems like so much.

Einstein once ingeniously said that we only fail when we quit trying.

So.   When I grow up, I want to be like Albert.  And a little like… Gandhi.  And Lincoln.  And Edison.   And… and…

I think that I will just keep on trying.

“How long should you try? Until.” – J. Rohn