Travelin' Man

I'm hitting the road tomorrow and will be out of country for about 2 weeks. Not sure if I will or won't be able to blog. I just wouldn't count on it.

Take care and God Bless

Happy Birthday To Me!!!

Ever have one of those weekends that you just wish would last forever? I just did. I don’t normally throw parties for myself or try to put myself at the center of attention. This past weekend I did. It was my 30th birthday a couple weeks ago and doggonit, I was throwing myself a party.

I mentioned it to Mom and Dad and asked if we could do it at their place and they said I could. It would be on Saturday. My friends and I would go canoeing in the morning, take a break in the afternoon and have a BBQ at ma and pa’s in the evening.

Thursday night my sis decides to give me the biggest gift of the weekend by surprising us and showing up. We didn’t think she would be able to make it and neither did she until a few days before. No matter what else happened that weekend, my weekend was made.

My Uncle Joe and Aunt Kathy came up the next day and so did my cousin Becky and her husband Carlos. I was excited about them getting there, too. Carlos is in the Army Infantry and was in Iraq for the war and just got back this past March. I wasn’t able to make it down to Tennessee for his welcome back party so this was the first time I’d seen him since he got back. I like him a lot since he has the type of personality that fits in well with our side of the family. Oh yeah, he treats Becky well, too.

I was just as excited about seeing Becky. I think the world of her. She’s such a strong gal. Having Carlos in Iraq was really hard on her but she kept a great attitude, considering the circumstances, and was the perfect military wife for Carlos while he was gone. She and I Emailed and talked on the phone a lot during that period and she’s become like another little sister.

Friday night, the Callahan brothers (Jesse, Paul and Ben) and I played in our sand volleyball league. Heather, Becky and Carlos came out to root us on along with Paul’s girlfriend. We didn’t play well but Heather always has a way of lightening things up by yelling out random, weird or inappropriate things. My personal favorite was "If you lose, I have NO brother." We lost, by the way. Read into that what you want.

The next day, Carlos and I went fishing in the morning for about an hour and a half before canoeing.  It was relaxing. I heard some stories from Iraq and he showed me a knife he took off an Iraqi who tried to stab him. We each caught a fish but they weren't terribly big. I don't think either of us were really looking to catch anything to keep. It was just a relaxing way to start a long day.

Everyone showed up at mom and dad’s at about 9:30 AM and we drove off to the river and canoed for a few hours. It was a lot of fun. My closest friends, some tipping, plenty of splashing and swimming. We also spent plenty of time skipping rocks during our frequent stops. And just for the record, horseflies now fear me. I am a killer.

We wrapped up around 1 PM and everyone went home to clean up. During the afternoon, Carlos and I made use of some bottle rockets and firecrackers by blowing up apples and acting like 13 year olds. It was great. We also got out the water-balloon sling shot and hit the extra garage and my truck. That part was an accident but still funny.

People started showing up at 6 PM. The Callahan boys brought their volleyball net and we set it up. Dad was cooking burgers and hot dogs. Mom was running around being mom. That means she was making sure everything was running ok (read: perfect). The water-balloon sling shot was brought out again. We played volleyball.

Later, the cake was brought out and everyone sang me Happy Birthday. After I got my piece of cake, I wandered into the front room and just sat there quietly. It started to touch me that these people came out there for me; to share that day with me. Family, friends, my pastor. It was a day I wished wouldn’t end.

It did. But I’m certainly not unhappy about that. Life is filled with mountain tops and valleys. This past weekend was a mountain top and I cherished it for everything it was. I still do.

Scary Times: My blog becomes therapy

It's strange sometimes when we realize that something we do just for fun might actually help someone else out, even in the slightest.

I'm not under any impression that my blog really has any importance whatsoever. I blog about funny stuff(at least I think it is) that happens or has happened to me. Or stuff that makes me mad(sorry to the liberals). In the grand scheme of things, it's not important. Even in the smaller scheme, it's not important at all.

I have a friend that I play fantasy baseball with. We've been online acquaintances for about 4 or 5 years I think. When my sis got married, I was in Boston and got to meet him.

Earlier this year, his wife ran into some pretty serious health problems. He has been sporadically in touch with the rest of the league during this period. During some recent trade discussions I asked him for an update on his wife. And the news is good. She's recovering slowly but is at least at home now.

During this EMail exchange, he asked me what was going on in my life and if I ever got my UPS package. Well, aside from some friends here in town, the only place he'd learn about that, is here on my blog.

I asked him if he'd been reading my blog(it's added to the bottom of all of my EMails). He said he had and added this:

"I don't remember when I started reading it. It was sometime during the beginning of  convalescence. When someone you love is so sick and you are helpless to do anything about it, life can get pretty frustrating and the temptation to wallow in self pity is enormous. By reading your blog I was able to concentrate on something other than my sorry existence. Without knowing it you probably saved me from sinking deeper into depression and for that I thank you!"

We all wish you and your wife a complete recovery, physically, emotionally and spiritually.

Since you live in the Northeast, I hope my anti-liberal tirades didn't bother you too much!

PS. The '75 Reds were better and so was Bench.

UPS and the scheme to oppress me

My wonderful sister sent me a gift for my birthday. The company she bought if from uses UPS so Heather told me that I’d be receiving it via UPS soon. Problem is, I’m hardly EVER home, let alone home during the day. So last Thursday they tried to deliver it and, of course, I wasn’t there. So they left me the little note. My neighbor Andrea said I could have it delivered to her place. She just had a baby and would be home all day. So I got online and changed the delivery address.

But they tried to deliver it to my place again on Friday. So this morning, I got online to change the address again. This time to my parents’ place. It wouldn’t let me and had me call their 800 # to change it. So I called.

Conversation:

Eric: I need to get this package to me.

Rep: OK, well, we have it set up to deliver to 5404 Lofino(my neighbor who just had a baby and is at home).

Eric: Well, yeah, they were supposed to but tried to deliver it to my place again. Of course, I wasn't there. Listen, this delivery is a birthday gift and I really need to get it. Can I just waive the signature that is required?

Rep: No, we can't do that.

Eric: Why not?

Rep: Because it's the company policy.

Eric: Well, that doesn't serve me that well.

Rep: I can set it up to have the package held at the delivery station for you to pick up.

Eric: Great. Where is that?

Rep: 1302 Brandt Pike.

Eric: Great, what are their hours?

Rep: 9 AM to 6 PM.

Eric: Great, those are my exact work hours (sarcasm free of charge). Can you have it sent to a delivery station down here, near where I work and I can pick it up during lunch?

Rep: No, sorry. We can't do that.

Eric: Let me guess. Company policy. OK, you see my problem here? I can't stay at home all day to wait for UPS to show up w/ this package. I can't pick it up because you have crappy bankers hours (who does that serve?). Can I have it delivered to work?

Rep: Well, it's already set to go to 5404 Lofino today. What if your neighbor is there and signs for it?

Eric: Well, that would be good for me, wouldn't it?

Rep: I guess. Yes. So do you still want me to have it delivered to your work tomorrow?

Eric: Yes. It's across town, is that ok?

Rep: Sure. We'll just have it sent down to the local delivery station.

Eric: The same one you just couldn't send it to for me to pick it up at?

Rep: Um, yeah. That one.

Eric: Tell me you see the humor in this. Are you sure this isn't a government agency?

Rep: I guess. Yeah. Um, so give me that address…

Company policy is always more important than serving the customer. Isn’t it?

The Terminal is terminal

I saw the movie “The Terminal” last night. It stars Tom Hanks and is directed by Steven Spielberg. The previews made it look really good and some of my family and friends had said they liked it. So we went to see it.

My gosh it was awful. I mean really awful. The only redeeming thing in the movie is Tom Hanks who, once again, is good in his role. Catharine Zeta-Jones is supposed to be the “love interest” but the first real time the audience gets to meet her she is being cancelled on by her boyfriend so he can spend time with his wife. She is reduced to tears. We’re supposed to feel sorry for this tramp? She’s messing around w/ a married man. From that point on, I had no sympathy. The only way I could have had any sympathy for her was is she truly realized how screwed up her life was and decided to change. She laments later on that she’s 39 and single. Well, no crap. You’re without a soul. Good men don’t marry soul-less women.

And the movie drags on. One of the subplots that could have been good fell flat (big surprise). A food service worked has a crush on one of the female Customs officers. Hanks’ character interacts w/ her daily so the food service agent barters food to Hanks for information about this girl. And for about 10 minutes, spanning many days in the movie, Hanks gets more and more information on the girl by asking her questions. He passes that information on to the guy. Then that whole plot disappears for 40 minutes. Then, the guy comes up to Hanks and asks him to give an engagement ring to the girl. She instantly says yes and they get married. What the heck?

I asked Angela, who I went with, in the middle of the movie “What the heck am I watching?”

I’m still wondering. And it’s a shame. The premise was good and the sub plots had potential, even if they were predictable.

Out of 4 stars? It gets 1. And it gets that one because Angela and I had such a fun time making fun of it.

In My Next 30 Years Part 5: Venice, Sleep Deprivation and Bad Pizza

You'll probably want to read part 4 before reading this one...

Eventually the train showed up and Chris and I boarded it. The train was great. The second floor of it was a surrounded on all sides by a big bubble shaped window, that allowed us to look around the area we were travelling through. It was beautiful and eventually we were travelling across a body of water into Venice.

We pulled into the train station and it was late morning, probably around 11 AM local. When we walked out of the train station, the view was stunning. I’ll try to find some pictures and scan them because it made us stop in our tracks. We were silent for a few minutes. Venice is pretty much everything you’ve been told. It’s old, beautiful and has lots of good-looking Italian women walking around.

We walked our way around the immediate area, never venturing much more than a mile away from the train station. We knew we had to catch a train at approx 5 PM to get back to the base in time. But there was plenty to see.

We did some shopping and I bought mom some plates that had pictures of Venice on them. They now hang on her dining room wall. I also bought my sister a copy of the Lion King Soundtrack in Italian. I’d already gotten her one in Portuguese. Chris and I bought these nerdy gondolier hats that screamed “We’re stupid American tourists” but we didn’t care. We wore them. His had the red tape and mine was blue.

We got hungry so we stopped at a small café right along the canals to get something to eat. The canal was about 6 inches to my right from where we sat. Chris ordered something really fattening and white. I ordered Italian Pizza (what else?). My meal wasn’t that good. Italian pizza, much to my chagrin, is very different and much more plain than American. It was mainly just the bread and a few peppers, a little cheese and some sauce thrown on top. It wasn’t very filling. But who cares? I was in Venice. It was more about the experience than the taste.

After that we took a ride on a boat on the canals. This wasn’t a gondola. We thought about that but decided against it for two reasons:

1. They were expensive.
2. It would look really gay to have two guys riding in one.

We took a regular boat and it took us up and down the canal. Something most people don’t know about Venice until they get there. The water is FILTHY.

Time passed quickly and we had to make our way back to the train station. We got back to the train station and took our last few pictures outside. Once inside, we were faced with a new problem: we couldn’t figure out which train would take us back to Aviano. We met another airman there who was having the same problem. Remember, I had to be back at work in the Azores the next day so I HAD to be on the flight back. We narrowed it down to 2 trains, made an educated guess and got on. At this point, I think we had been up about 28 hours straight. No sleep.

The train ride back was good but we couldn’t sleep then because we didn’t want to miss our stop. The ride back through the countryside was great at sunset. It ended up being the right train. We then took our bus back to Aviano and made it into the terminal on base in plenty of time.

We’d been up about 30-31 hours straight at this point. I remember sitting in the terminal, waiting on our names to be called to get on the plane, talking to Chris and nodding off in mid-sentence. He was doing the same.

We got on the place with our souvenirs and finally slept on the flight back. It had been about 35 hours before we finally got some sleep. It felt great. We got back on time and I “worked” the next day. By “work,” I mean I showed up on time and left on time. Not much was done in-between.

If you ever get the chance to visit Venice, even for 7 hours, do it. It’s a beautiful place.

30 Years To Be Thankful For

In no specific order…

1. I’m thankful to be blessed with my mother and father who, over the years, have become as much friends as parents.

2. I’m thankful that when I was younger they were my parents.

3. I’m thankful that as I’ve gotten older, they’ve become friends (thought they are still parents when the situation warrants).

4. I’m thankful for a sister who is passionate about her beliefs. We may not always agree but I love her dearly and I know she loves me.

5. I’m thankful for the great friends God has blessed me with over the years.

6. I’m thankful for the friends I’ve called in the middle of the night needing to talk to and they were there.

7. I’m thankful for the ones I haven’t called but know I could.

8. I’m thankful for a God who sent His Son to die for me that I will enjoy everlasting life with the ones I love.

9. I’m thankful thousands upon thousands who have made sacrifices, some of them the ultimate sacrifice, that I may enjoy the freedom to love and worship my God and to share that love with others in this country and countries around the world.

10. I’m thankful for the times I’ve had my heartbroken by the fairer sex. It’s made me wiser (I hope).

11. I’m thankful that I’ve been able to travel to many countries and many continents to see and to experience other people and cultures.

12. I’m thankful that after 30 years, my body seems to be working just fine with only minimal breakdowns (ankles).

13. I’m thankful for the friends and others who have helped me challenge my beliefs.

14. I’m thankful for a mother who carried me for just over 9 months and gave birth. If you ask her, she’ll tell you that was still easier than my teenage years.

15. I’m thankful for a father who was willing to go do things that probably didn’t interest him a tremendous amount, just so he could spend time with his son. This includes baseball games and baseball card collecting.

16. I’m thankful that I’ve been able to serve my country in the Air Force for almost 12 years now.

17. I’m thankful for an extended family that feels like immediate family.

18. I’m thankful for a mother who was a good military mom and wife, honoring her husband and children. Picking up her family and home and moving it no fewer than 8 times in 24 years.

19. I’m thankful for a father who has been a good husband and now honors his wife by staying put and not moving anymore (among many other ways).

20. I’m thankful for two parents who’ve been a wonderful display of a loving marriage.

21. I’m thankful for the family and friends who have put up with my sometimes abrasive, usually arrogant and many times irritating personality and still love and accept me.

22. I’m thankful for the friends and family who have encouraged me and helped me grow in my faith.

23. I’m thankful for a sister who is funnier and more creative than I could ever hope to be.

24. I’m thankful for dogs but not cats.

25. I’m thankful for learning how to (really) play volleyball over the last 2 years. It has become a needed stress-reliever.

26. I’m thankful for the game of baseball. It was my first love.

27. I’m thankful when people tell me I remind them of my father. I take that as a high compliment.

28. I’m thankful that no matter how long I may live, I was able to see the Reds win the World Series and the Ohio State Buckeyes win a football national championship in my lifetime. Now, I’m just waiting for the Browns to get their stuff together.

29. I’m thankful that my family, for the most part, has remained healthy and happy for as long as I can remember.

30. I’m thankful that I am around after 30 years and able to be thankful for these and many other things I am sure I forgot to list.

8 July 1974

Today my back gave out, my knees ache, my hair is falling out, my wife is nagging me, my kids are pains in the rear, my job stinks and I need to get checked for prostate cancer.

Today I turned 30.

In My Next 30 years Part 4: Azores, Italy, Roses and Italian chicks.

My 2nd assignment in the military was to the Azores from April 1993 to June 1994. The Azores is a set of islands in the Atlantic Ocean owned by the Portuguese. I was on Terceira. This was a great assignment. The Azores was beautiful but Terceira is a small island to spend 15 months on. It was about 50 minutes drive from one side to the other. What made this assignment great was the people. I was part of a close-knit group of friends. I've lost touch with all of them but would love to track them down again.

I’d been on the island for about 13 months at this point and was getting ready to PCS (Permanent Change of Station) back to the US. But I wanted to take advantage of my location while I was there. On Friday nights a military charter flew in from Philadelphia and had about a 3 hour layover and then continued on to Aviano, Italy, arriving there early Saturday morning. Then that Saturday night it would come back, make a quick stop in the Azores and continue on to Philly again. It was called the Spaghetti Run.

My best friend Chris and I decided we wanted to make that one day trip to Italy and go see Venice. So we each took 1 day of leave (that Saturday) and planned to leave that Friday night. The only bad thing is that our flying status was called Space-A. This meant that if there was room on the flight, we could fly along for free. It’s a military privilege overseas. But if the flight filled with people who HAD to be on the flight, we’d get bumped off. I had to work that Sunday so we had to make sure we’d get back in time for that. You also had to sign up at the earlier possible time that day. So if we wanted to fly out on Friday, we’d have to sign up at 0001 on Friday (that’s 1 minute past midnight for you civilians).

We both worked on Friday but we stayed up late Thursday night to sign up at just past midnight. Chris worked the early morning shift and I worked a midday shift on Friday. Once I got off work, we went to the base terminal and waited. It was about 10 PM (I’m recalling as best I can) and we found out that we were able to make the flight. So we got on the flight and waited for takeoff. At this point, we had been up for about 12 hours. Not a big deal.

We were both pretty wired about the trip so there was no sleeping on the flight. I think we landed about 0600-070 Italy time. So now we are at Aviano Air Base in Northern Italy. But we really don’t have any idea of how to get to Venice from where we are. I think our plan was to ask some people on base (normally I’m a MUCH better planner than this). Well found some people on a walk and they told us about a travel agency right off base that could help us.

We got to the travel agency and they were very helpful. I think it was only going to cost us about $40 to get from Aviano to Venice and back. It’s about a 50 mile trip. First we had to take a bus to a train station and the train would take us in to Venice. We walked about a mile to the bus stop and still had about 45 minutes before it would arrive. Right across the street was a big church. One thing to keep in mind is how old everything is in Europe. Here in the US, we have a bunch of over-obsessed busybodies who go nuts if an 80 year old building is going to be torn down. That’s nothing. In Europe, many buildings are over 400-500 years old.

So Chris and I went across the street. We walked in and there was a 2nd floor right above us that was overhanging the entrance, like many traditional Methodist churches have. There were frescoes (thank you Mrs. Lewellen) on each side of the church, about 5 on each side. It was dark and an organ was playing. There was no one around as far as we could see so we walked around the sanctuary and looked at everything. As we got into the middle of the sanctuary, I turned around and looked back up on the 2nd floor that was overhanging the entrance and saw the huge organ up on the 2nd floor. And there was a nun sitting there playing it.

We wandered back outside and caught our bus. It was about a 15 minutes bus ride to the train station. It was an interesting train station. It had a lot of brush outside growing up around it like it wasn’t care d for much but the building looked new and was that peach color that a lot of Italian buildings seem to be painted. The best part of the train station was a beautiful Italian girl, probably in her late teens or early 20’s. She was standing about 20 feet away from us and Chris and I were quietly commenting on how beautiful she was. I mentioned that it would be cool to walk over to the rose bush next to her, pull off a rose and give it to her. He said “OK, I dare you to do it.” I thought about it and decided to do it. Why not? How many times in life would I have a chance to give a beautiful Italian woman a rose for no reason? So I walked over to the rose bush, pulled off a rose (and clumsily cut my finger open at the same time), walked over and gave it to her. She got this big smile on her face. I felt good. She smiled at me. Of course, it was probably more likely that the smile was the “get away from me you stupid arrogant American. What makes you think a rose can win my heart you war-mongering piece of crap” smile. But, like I said, she politely smiled and that was that. She either didn’t speak any English or was content acting like she didn’t. At this point we'd been up for about 20 hours straight.

More later on the train ride and Venice…

In My Next 30 Years Part 3: Doctors say stupidity is evident early on in children

I was about 8 at the time of this story and we were living in Beavercreek, Ohio. And, yes, my gullibility and stupidity were evident at a young age.

We’d just moved to the neighborhood from Columbus after Dad graduated from Ohio State. There were some kids that lived to the right of our house and on the opposite side of the street called the Corcorans. Brian was the older brother and Kevin was my age.

Brian and some of his friends had been trying to get one of us to get in a trash can. Why? I couldn’t figure out at the time. But by acting like really nice guys they convinced the dumbest of us to get in the trash can. So this idiot gets in the trash can as they put the top on and proceed to sit on it and bang on the sides. I, I mean, this kid was screaming to get out and they wouldn’t let him.

Eventually they let him out. They must have gotten bored or something. Anyway, he ran home crying (he was a huge crybaby) and his Dad went over and tore them a new one.

That kid was dumb.

In my Next 30 years Part 2: Night of the TP, my moron friend is still smarter than I am and the limits of friendship

Here’s another story from when I was living in Las Vegas. This one I’m a bit more infamous for. I was about 14 or 15 when this one happened. Now, please understand that there are certain parts of this story I’m not proud of. I was a nerd growing up and hated it. I’ve now embraced it and it doesn’t bother me and I call myself that. But through about age 23, I hated it. I was picked on a lot and ridiculed. So, when the opportunity arose to do it to someone else who had made the remarkable achievement of being nerdier, I seized it.

My friend, Joe DeVere (you’ll see his name a lot in my infamous stories in Vegas), and I used to go to the rec center almost every day during the summer. We’d play ping pong, foosball, shoot baskets and play cards while there. It was about a 2 mile bike ride to get there and we’d ride our bikes.

There was also this guy named Tom who would show up. Tom was about 2 or 3 years older than I was. He was about 5’10” or so, very thin and had short hair like Ralph Fiennes in Red Dragon. He was also one of those types who was shaving at age 12 probably. As opposed to me; I didn’t have to shave everyday until about age 20 or 21. He was visiting his parents in Vegas for the summer. I can’t remember where he was from but it was probably the nerd Mecca. And he always rode one of those beach bicycles to the center. He looked goofy as heck on it.

Tom really was a nerd. On a level I could only dream of attaining today. One day when we were playing cards, Joe had to shuffle. On Joe’s shuffle, Tom actually said “You know, when you shuffle more than 3 times, it actually becomes more likely that the cards will end up in the same order again.” Now, I know today that that isn’t true. But it was an incredibly dorky thing to say. And it demanded retaliation.

So we treated him like Forrest Gump. We’d ride our bikes next to him while he’d ride home and taunt him (these are the parts I’m not proud of) and one day we let the air out of his tires so he had to walk his bike about 3 or 4 miles home. Now, granted, this isn’t sick sadistic stuff. Nothing like what I blogged earlier about what I’d do to a boy who gave my daughter a hickey. But it was still mean.

One afternoon, Joe and I decided that it’d been a long time since we’d TP’d anyone’s home and we figured Tom’s place was as good as any. We found out where he lived when we were taunting on the way home once.

So one day we went to Smith’s, a grocery chain in Vegas at the time, and got about 12 rolls of toilet paper. While in the checkout lane, we had the following conversation:

“Geez, mom sure has had diarrhea bad lately.”

“Yeah, hope this is enough.”

“Wasn’t last time.”

"I know. My shoes are still soaked."

We knew full well that anyone seeing a 13 and 15 year old checking out 12 rolls of toilet paper would know exactly what it is for. We just decided to have some fun with it. And we at least got a disgusted look out of the check out lady.

That night we went to Tom’s small house, which was about 10 streets down from us. It was about 11:30 PM. Tom’s house presented a challenge. It had an attached garage on the left side with a small driveway leading up to it. On the right side was the front door, to the right of the front door a large living room window, along with the yard and a small tree. The challenge was that area was fenced in with one of those brick fences that was about shoulder high and dipped down for about 5 foot intervals with iron bars in-between. Looked a bit like http://www.virginiarailingandgates.com/fences_steel.htm but white. So someone was going to have to go inside the gate to do the yard. That, of course, fell to me.

I’d always held that I was smarter than Joe but as I go back and retell these stories I realize that he acted dumber but sure seemed to outsmart me. He said, because he was the chubby one, “You’re faster so you should probably go inside the fence. If they come out while I’m in there, they are probably gonna catch me.” I shrugged. Made sense to me.

So while Joe TP’d the car, the front light post and anything else he could find, I did the tree, the bushes and part of the fence. It was a good job. Not worthy of the Hall of Fame or anything but we were proud. I hopped the fence and we took a look at our work. We were happy. I took the last little piece of TP, balled it up and soaked it in the gutter. Then I threw it at their front window and we ran. I guess that was supposed to be for added effect.

Once we were safely away we walked the rest of the way home. We were expert liars and knew that if someone stopped us, we’d have plausible deniability since we weren’t that close to the house anymore and we had no evidence on our persons. We laughed and talked about the reaction we’d get from Tom the next day.

The next day we went to the Rec Center to see the reaction we’d hoped for. We got nothing. He didn’t even acknowledge that anything happened. We knew that he knew we did it. The nerd was outsmarting us by giving us NO reaction. It really pissed us off. So, we put our two brains together and devised a brilliant plan that we KNEW would get a reaction…

…We’d do it again that night.

I know. That’s lame but it’s the best we could come up with when overcome by rage. So we again went to Smith’s, bought 10 rolls of TP and talked about our mother’s diarrhea again. Then that night, it was ON. We’d show HIM what was up.

So that night, the plan was the same except we were going to do it about an hour later. I don’t remember why. I want to think it was because we figured we’d mix it up a bit in order to make it hard for us to catch. But it probably had more to do with us watching something stupid on TV.

We got there and I jumped the fence and went to work. Joe, once again, worked on the car. I was about 1/3 of the way done and along the right side of the front yard, near the house and barely around the side. That’s when I heard the front door open and slam shut.

Now, we’d done plenty of stupid things in the past and knew that when you heard something like this, you ran like heck. Don’t even look back. But I was in a bad spot. I’d have to jump the fence first. I heard Joe tearing off and luckily, so did Tom and his grandfather. They ran out the front gate after him as I stood quietly in the shadows on the side of the house. When I knew they’d gone, I jumped the fence and ran in the opposite direction up the street. After getting about 10 houses down the road, I hid in some bushes where I could see Tom’s house.

I waited about 10-15 minutes to see when they came back. Partly because I wanted to see their reactions and partly because I wanted to see if they caught Joe. Sure enough Joe comes walking down the street with Tom and his grandfather. They’d caught his fat butt. So Joe starts yelling,

“Eric! It’s OK to come out. They aren’t mad! They only want us to clean it up!”

I paused. I knew Joe. He wasn’t normally the type that would sell out his friend.

He yelled it again.

So I came out of my hiding spot and walked down the street to meet them.

I’m so $(&%$ stupid.

I get there and notice Tom is in his barefeet. He’d caught that fat piece of goo Joe in his BAREFEET! So now the grandfather says “Take us to your house. I want to talk to your parents.” I looked at Joe but he was looking at his feet. That piece of crap had sold me out.

So we start walking in the direction of our court. Joe and I were walking together about 10 feet ahead of Tom and his grandfather so we discussed some strategy…in-between me cussing him out. I knew I could out run them. Tom was tall and fast but I was a quick little bugger. But Joe would get caught and I wasn’t going to hang him out to dry like he’d done to me.

We decided that we’d walk to the end of the road, past our court, where it dead-ended into the desert. Desert in Vegas is dirt, stone and garbage. There would be no way they’d be able to follow us out there. Tom was still in his barefeet and grandpa wasn’t catching anyone. It was a good plan. A good plan fudged up by Joe again.

We weren’t far from the end of the street and all of a sudden he says “Hey, let’s turn left here.” I asked why and he said just to trust him.

Now, we’re off course and it’s going to be even further to the desert. Joe didn’t know what the heck he was doing. After about a half mile, Tom and gramps says “OK, that’s enough. Take us to your house right now or we’ll stop right here and call the cops.”

So we turned around and walked to our court. Now, this part of my recollection turns really hazy. For the life of me I can’t remember why but someone how we ended up going to my house. So we walk up, I walk in and Dad is still up. Gramps proceeds to lay into Dad over our actions. Dad is empathetic and says that the grandfather was right and he’d send us over right now to clean it up. But he wanted to talk to us first.

So Tom and his grandfather go outside and Dad sits us down. He explained that we would have to go back and clean it up. Then he says something that helped me to understand exactly how cool he could be:

“You know, I don’t care if you guys want to go TP someone’s house. But don’t do it maliciously,” he paused. “Oh, and for God’s sake, don’t be so stupid as to do the same place two nights in a row,” he said as he shook his head and gave a half smile.

Another good night. We cleaned Tom’s place up as much as we could and walked home. But I also knew from that point on:

#1. Joe is a moron. We had an opportunity to get away that HE messed up.

#2. Joe still outsmarted me. He got me to come out of my hiding place. He also got me to take the blame and to take Tom and his grandfather to MY house.

#3. Joe would sell me out in a second so he wouldn’t be alone in getting caught.

He was still a fun guy to get into trouble with. And there are many more stories I’ll end up telling on here that involved the two of us.

In my next 30 years, I'm gonna have some fun (Thanks Tim McGraw)

It’s the last week before I turn 30. I’m treating it like a milestone only because it feels like I should. I won’t really feel any older. I certainly don’t look or act any older than about 25. And other than my recent ankle sprains, I don’t feel it either.

So, as time allows, over the next week or so, I’ll share some stories of my short 30 years that God has gifted me with.

It was the summer of 1987 and the family had just moved from Dayton, Ohio to Las Vegas, Nevada. It was a move I didn’t want to make and everyone in my family knew it. I hated leaving Dayton. I had good friends here and I was comfortable here. But Dad was in the US Air Force and moving comes with the territory.

Vegas was very different from Dayton (Duh). It’s so hot it bakes you in the sun. Granted, there is no humidity but still, 110 degrees is HOT. All of the houses are made of stucco with orange shingled roofs. It’s also really HOT in Vegas. We’d moved into a court with a good number of other kids my age and Heather’s (my sister) age. Oh yeah. It was HOT, too.

We weren’t in Vegas very long at the time of this story. I had taken an interest in baseball and baseball cards when I was about 8 or 9. And living in Dayton at the time, the Reds became my favorite team. While I liked the Reds, it wasn’t until the summer of 1987 that I followed the Reds obsessively. What do I mean by obsessively? It means every morning I went out to get the paper and went through each box score for each game and, unintentionally, memorized every stat I could put in front of my eyes. Of course, I spent more times looking at the Reds’ stats than any others. For instance, and this is off the top of my head w/ no help, in 1987, Eric Davis(my favorite all-time player) hit .287 w/ 37 HR, 100 RBI and 50 SB. I could recite a bunch of other players’ stats from that season, too. Like I said, it was obsessive.

1987 was Eric Davis’s breakout season. He had an incredible April, May and June and looked like the new Willie Mays. And during this time, he became my favorite Red. I loved the guy. He could do no wrong.

I went back and did some research and it was Tuesday August 11th. I remember it was a sunny day and I was out in the court playing with the other kids. Dad came up to me in the morning, told me to grab my ball glove, grab some Reds baseball cards and get ready to go. We were gonna throw the ball in the park and then visit a baseball card shop. No need to tell me twice. I ran inside, grabbed the glove, some Reds baseball cards (including Eric Davis, of course) and was ready to go.

We both got into Dad’s dark blue 1985 Toyota Celica and started driving. About 10 minutes later, I noticed we weren’t going anywhere that I thought. It looked like we were going to the airport. That’s when dad dropped it on me. He’d bought tickets to fly out to LA that day and we were going to watch the Reds play the Dodgers in LA. I was floored and really excited. It caught me totally off-guard. I mean, really, who expects that?

So we flew to LA and went to the game. While I was doing the research to figure out the day, I found the box score from that game. I remembered that Eric Davis hit a HR in the game so that made it a bit easier. That and the Reds lost. A couple years after that, I’d come to expect it whenever I went to a Reds’ game. They always lose when I’m there (this curse was broken about 5 or 6 years ago). Anyway, here is a link to the box score and play by play. Thanks to Retrosheet for this.

The game wasn’t the only memory from that day. The wave has always been extremely popular in LA and it was the first time I’d seen it done. So I got to participate, too. But Dad and I added a fun twist. Dad is a HUGE fan of peanuts. I’ll eat peanuts for the same reason Dad goes to baseball games with me: not because I like them but because it’s something to share in. So, back to the wave. We were sitting in the second of 3 decks in the stadium so there was a deck above us. Basically, there was a concrete roof about 10 feet above us. This is a view of pretty close to what it looked like from where we were sitting. You can’t see the concrete above but trust me, it’s there. When the wave would come around, we’d fill our hands with peanuts, raise our arms with everyone else and let the peanuts go. They’d bounce off the concrete above us and fall on the people about 2 or 3 rows ahead of us. Keep in mind, this four full handfuls of peanuts being launched in front of us. These poor souls would look up at the concrete above them like this asteroid shower of legumes had fallen out of a vortex that had magically appeared above them and closed right before they looked. So while they were contemplating theories of relativity, wormholes, wind patterns and alternate dimensions, they should have been working on physics. Dad and I did this about 3 or 4 times in a row. I think our abs hurt afterwards from laughing so hard. Every now and then, when the people would look back in our direction, we’d look back behind us or up to make them think we’d been hit by peanuts as well.

We also had fun with the rental car. And this started a tradition that carries on to this day in the Moyer household w/ rental cars. I don’t remember the make or model of this rental. All that was important was that we had the emergency brake located in-between the driver’s and passenger’s seat. Dad would get this thing up to about 60-65 (if mom is reading, faster if she isn’t) and he’d pull on that emergency brake and we’d leave these skid marks down the highway. It also produced this grand screeching of the tires that only a 12 year old boy, and his momentarily immature father, could enjoy.

The only downside of the trip was staying after the game and trying to get autographs from Eric Davis and Dave Parker. It was a dismal experience, as my favorite player definitely let me down that day. However, I’ve come to forgive him because I’ve read many interviews with him since then and he’s come across as a very humble and a good man. He was only 25 at the time and I certainly hope no one would hold my actions in my 20’s against me their entire lives. In 2001, I was in Cincinnati to watch his final game there. He was with the San Francisco Giants at the time. On that same day, my new favorite player, Adam Dunn, who also wears Davis’ # 44, hit his 4th major league HR. Ahhh, the circle of life.

Dad and I flew back that night and got in pretty late. I went to sleep with quite the smile on my face that night. Dad really came through, as he has many times since, on that day.

I have many good memories of that summer. I didn’t want to be in Vegas at the time but I was able to make the most of it. It was the best of times…it was the worst…nah. It was just a good time.