NEW YEAR'S

Most of my memories of New Year’s Day involve football games.  But one special one did not.  Well, actually it did but it was not the primary reason it was memorable.  Let’s just say 1B was the football game, 1A was named Terry. 

I had just met Terry a few weeks before on a blind date arranged by our mutual friend Richard.  Richard knew me so well that when he said there was this Catholic girl he wanted me to meet I knew, without any doubt, that this was THE girl. 

He arranged to bring her to meet me for a late fall date.  She walked into my apartment at school wearing a button-down white blouse and green khaki skirt for our first date, which happened to be a football game.  She had this smile that, to this day, makes me melt.  It was on.  We climbed on the back of a stake bed truck with my fraternity brothers and their dates for the short ride to the Coliseum.  We were playing Navy that day.  Roger Staubach was the quarterback who later that year won the Heisman Trophy. 

I proposed on our third date, which happened to be a rodeo.  No candle light dinners for me.  She said yes. 

That New Years Eve a fraternity brother of mine hosted a party at his home.  At parties such as this it was the custom for those couples that were going public with their engagement to become pInned.  This meant the guy, in this case, me, would give his fraternity pIn to his girl, which was Terry.  At some point during the evening Richard tapped his glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention, then announced the penning of one Forest “Woody” Smith III to Terry Devaney .  I gave Terry a long, passionate kiss then there were congratulations all around. 

We left the party and drove to my aunt and uncles house in Pasadena to spend the night.  They lived just a short distance from the Rose Bowl.  This would make for a short trip the next day.  They had waited up for us.  In hindsight I am sure it was to see that we slept in separate bed rooms. 

The next day we were treated to a royal breakfast of ham and eggs, hash browns, cinnamon rolls, juice and coffee.  It was one of those special meals only your favorite aunt can prepare.  We visited for a while as we watched the Rose Parade on TV then took off for the game.

Sitting in the student rooting section Terry was indoctrinated into what a lifetime with a USC football fan would be like.  We saw a thriller (at least I thought it was) as USC built a big early lead and then survived a furious Wisconsin rally to finish an undefeated season and win the National Championship.  As I mentioned, that was 1B.

1A was then, is now and always will be Terry.  That New Year’s Eve was 48 years ago.  We will spend this New Year’s Eve having dinner with our family and more than likely be asleep before midnight.  We will watch endless bowl games from our living room because our team is in the 2^nd year of a 2 year ban on playing in a bowl.  Whether it has been 48 years or 4800 years I will never forget the first one we spent together.  It was special.

 

PRICELESS

Gas to go out for the evening: $5.00

Wig rental for my wife to look like a groupie: $20

An evening spent with my life partner, family and friends listening to Atomic Punks: PRICELESS

Magic happens in strange ways.  Sometimes it’s a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat,  sometimes it’s an unexplainable scientific event and sometimes it’s a bunch of things all coming together at the right time and place to create an evening of magic.  Last night was one of those times.

When I was invited to my son’s company Christmas party, the invitation stated the entertainment would be provided by Atomic Punks.  I immediately Googled Atomic Punks to see who or what they were.  They are what we music aficionados call a Tribute Band.  It takes big stardom to warrant a Tribute Band.  Big stardom would describe Van Halen, the band that Atomic Punks pay tribute to by emulating them from A to Z.  Everything about Van Halen except their blood type is copied so as to create the feeling that one is watching and listening to the original.

It was no coincidence that Atomic Punks was picked to entertain for this party.  It so happens Van Halen was THE band of the years our kids were growing up.  While our daughters tilted more toward heavy metal, our son head bobbed around our house imitating Billy Idol and Van Halen.  Since this Christmas party was for his company, he chose Atomic Punks.
 
My wife and I were sitting at a table having dinner when the band arrived.  They wandered in wearing their street clothes, introduced themselves and asked where to set up.  Having raised 4 kids I can spot these rock types right off.  The longish hair and the look of not having had a square meal in 6 months.  While having dessert we could hear the band warming up and tuning their guitars.        

We were told the show would begin soon and to adjourn to the showroom.  In this case the showroom was a warehouse with velvet curtains hung to hide the machinery, equipment and supplies stored there.  A makeshift stage was set up along with professional lighting and sound equipment, cocktail tables were scattered around and family, friends and business associates settled in.  A piece of the magic mentioned earlier was in place.

As the band came onstage I hardly recognized the guys I had seen earlier in street clothes.  Three of the four wore a kind of a grunge look while the lead singer Brian, who passed as Eddie Van Halen, wore skin tight silky or velour pants with one design on the back and another the front and a sleeveless top that looked as though it had been ripped to shreds.  As he welcomed everyone he mentioned it was their first performance in a warehouse. 

With speakers the size of railroad cars the joint vibrated as they launched into a series of hits from the good old days.  That is if your good old days happened to be the seventies and eighties.  With me being the single exception everyone there knew every single word to every single song and when to thrust their fist in the air, perfectly in tune with the music.  More magic. 

During the song “Ice Cream Man” Brian, noticed one particular guy that was quite into the performance.  It didn’t take much urging but he invited my daughter’s boyfriend Eddie up to sing the last part of the song.  Emboldened with a glass or four of white wine, Eddie got up with the band.  While the crowd shouted “Eddie!!, Eddie!!, Eddie!!” he sang the last few bars of Ice Cream Man to thunderous applause.  More magic.

Next my son was invited up to do his version of the same finish to Ice Cream Man.  Having known my son since diapers, this was about as out of character for him as me trying to do the samba on Dancing With the Stars.  I know he was thinking “I can’t back out now”.  Spurred on by the challenge thrown down by Eddie, he did his best Van Halen imitation and showed amazing range of voice for a man whose Dad couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.  He finished it off with a Van Halen style leap in the air, arm thrusting move the master would have been proud of.  As I have been reminded many times over the years, we think we know our kids but there are often surprises.  

My wife and I watched all of this while seated on a sofa surrounded by our kids, grand kids, in-laws and very special friends.  It was one of those magical nights.      

 

                                                                                                                                          

OCCUPY THIS

I consider myself fairly adept at seeing both sides of an argument.  In the end I still may tell those with an opposing viewpoint to stuff it but at least I make the effort to hear their point of view.   For the past few weeks I have been trying to do just that with this Occupy this and that movement. 

In conducting my research I have read the printed word, listened to on-site radio accounts and interviews and watched extensive TV coverage from both left and right leaning perspectives.  Over the years I have seen many movements for one cause or another and whether I agree or not it is usually quite clear what they believe in or what their goals are.  Not so with the Occupy crowd.

Have you heard any of these interviews?  Most of them are conducted by a reporter standing among a crowd against a back drop of tents and sign carrying protestors.  These signs, for the most part, depict all manner of hatred for anything corporate, as do the comments of the interviewees.  When the interviewee is not shouted down by some admitted union official, the comments go something like this.  Why are you here?  “We want to end corporate greed.”  How do you plan on doing that?  “Well, uh, we uhh……”  Of the scores of interviews I heard or watched this summarizes the majority of responses.  In fact only 2, both young women, gave a response that left me feeling as though I understood why they were there.

I fully recognize the right of people to peacefully assemble for the purpose of being heard.  In most cases it is the only means they have to vent their feelings.  Where they lose me is when they infringe on the rights of others.  As for example, the 2 million bucks or so spent for clean up after them in New York.  I am sure that if the mayor of New York City sat down to think about it there are many ways that money could have been spent and left a better aftertaste.  Or the effect on the surrounding businesses such as the dry cleaner in LA operated by a man and his wife who claimed the occupiers brought in 30 sleeping bags to be dry cleaned but refused to pay for them.    

When there are so many who are down and out I can understand the animosity toward some for obvious excesses.  But to lump everyone they deem doing well into one category called “corporations” and attack them all as evil is wrong.  First off, corporations come in all sizes, big and small.  In fact, almost without exception they all started as small when someone starting a business experienced enough success to deem incorporating an important part of their future.  Some remained small family businesses, some grew to be giants but most fell by the wayside leaving financial disasters in their wakes for those who dared take a risk.  The recent filing for bankruptcy of American Airlines a sign no one is safe. 

Like all of society, business is going through a period of adjustment to a world economy.  Formulas that used to work in terms of costs and income are being revalued.  Business owners, stockholders and labor alike will figure it out.  But enough with the animosity toward what the Occupy people would have you believe are the business version of Satan.  Ask any hospital, university, aids or cancer research project or other recipients of millions and millions of dollars in donations from corporations how they feel.  Ask the millions of people employed by them as they seek to survive in this highly competitive, survival of the fittest business climate.  There is much good there.