On a particularly scary Halloween night, I darkened our living room and turned on a radio to prepare to be scared out of my wits. Of course, my two older sons, 7 and 10 at the time, were part of the mix, as was the then-1-year-old, Ben, even if he couldn’t yet follow the plot.
Let me explain:
A Highlands University journalism student, Joseph Von Rodeck, came up with a frightful radio script to a play that I thought would go over quite well with the Las Vegas audience. He invited me to be the narrator and selected other classmates and acquaintances to fill in the various roles.
The original plan was to present the hour-long program live, but some question about logistics at KFUN-KLVF changed that: something about the size of the studio. So we put it on tape. Continue reading
Oh, pardon me, sir, ma’am, but did I invade your privacy? Excuuuuse me for peeking into your mail, most of which even you haven’t read, since much of the correspondence, which goes back to the year 2004, is still in sealed envelopes. And lots of the items are the same. Those things happen when people keep dunning you.
Let me explain:
Saturday morning, as my son, Diego, and my wife, Bonnie, went for their daily constitutional, behind Camp Luna, past the rifle range, toward a place we call Los Abeytas, they came across something you must have dropped. If it had been a wallet or a driver’s license or anything else of value that could be identified, we would have made a special trip to return it.
What you left was pounds and piles of trash strewn about. We didn’t find much of real value. We now know your name, address and phone number, and in sifting through some of the stuff, we’ve been able to create a mini-profile of the family. Continue reading
“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”
The book of Corinthians omitted one thing: What about eating? I didn’t eat as a child does. I liked the spicy stuff.
So there I was, entering Estella’s Cafe on Bridge Street, by myself, at around age 11. For a long time, I failed to remember why I was there, alone. I recall now that I’d gone to the Kiva Theater with my parents, failed to get the movie plot, and wandered off, across the street to check out their burgers. Continue reading
On my Facebook page there’s a photo album which I call “Desperately Seeking a Caption.” I often put a humorous photo on display and invite Facebook friends to come up with a caption as inane as the photo.
This time I posted a photo I took on our last visit to our family in Copenhagen, Denmark. Surprisingly, a half dozen people jumped in.
I took the picture in the kitchen. The subject is an odd electrical object which combines two handy appliances.
But first, let me explain that in Denmark, people make a meal out of bread with butter, or if you want a real treat, a tablespoon of one of the wonderful jams and jellies that country is famous for. In fact, virtually every convenience store devotes much acreage to the bread section alone. Continue reading
She was friendly, polite and courteous and seemingly in control. But, she kept slowing down the line.
Before we analyze the young local checker, let me give you my take on causing stoppages, or even slowages. I say with no hesitation that I would rather paste my nostrils together with Crazy Glue than to hold up a line.
You know what I mean:
If I can’t locate that last letter to drop into the mobile mailbox, I’ll drive off, perhaps circle back and do it right. If I’ve picked up an item that lacks a price tag and will thus necessitate having the checkout person go to the back of the store to check the price, or — worse — summon the manager, I’ll simply decide I don’t need the item. Continue reading