The Northward Contrail

Independence

Have you ever got up in the morning and said to yourself, "Oh, this is a beautiful day!  Oh, this is a glorious day!  Joy to the world!  I feel serene!"  And then you pick up the newspaper and you say, "Oh, Lord, they wouldn't do that?!"

                                                                            -- "Brother Dave" Gardner

Part of my job involves staying informed about what's going on.  I expect it of my students, particularly since I give them current events quizzes each week.  But I have to stay informed, too.  Besides that, it's something a good citizen should do, anyway. 

On the other hand, it's awful hard to stay informed without getting dejected these days.  And, some days, you shake your head and wonder what the hell it's all coming to.  Certainly since, in the last two decades or so, our public discourse has turned into a really bad television show in which the teams are more focused on cutthroat competition, outrageous antics and up-yours endzone dances than anything of lasting benefit.

Which, among other reasons, is why this blog stays out of public affairs, except in certain circumstances.  I write these little meditations as a diversion for myself, to share with the world some things that, I hope, we can take some mutual interest in regardless of where we are on the spectrum. Besides, there's plenty other people out there on the Internet doing political crap now, right-wing and left-wing.  Go see them if that's what you want.  I really don't want any part of it here.  I'll write my representatives and cast my ballots on my own time, my own way, thank you.  And I don't want to give voice, or space, here to polarization.  It never gets anything done.  Nor do I want to get my inbox flooded by people who either think what I write is the greatest stuff ever written and that I should run for office or have a talk show, or clogged with hate mail from people who think I'm either a fascist or a commie and should be run over by a bread truck at the earliest possible opportunity.

(By the way, if you've read this blog for however long and you think you've figured out my political views, or think I speak for you...well, no matter what you may have concluded, guess again.  And then guess that answer again.  Sure, you may find some things here and there that resonate, but I can guarantee there's stuff in my views that would comfort, distress and confound conservatives and liberals alike.  That's part of why I don't let myself be bound by an organization or a label.  Plus, I'm skeptical of every candidate, every party, every movement, every organization, every conspiracy theory, every talk show host...you name it, at least in that realm, and I'm a skeptic.  I'm not necessarily a "skeptic" in the hostile sense; rather, if you make a claim or an assertion, I really want to know how you got there, and what you're basing it on.  I've seen too much, learned too much from history, and know too much about the cycles of politics and media to take any of it at face value.  Nor do I want to join any organizations or parties or groups in the political sphere.  If I did, I'd give up my independence, and I've had bad experiences in which I've joined groups, only to find out they spend too much time on things with which I don't agree.  No, thanks.)

None of that is why I'm here.  I try to keep this blog as an oasis, a reasonably politics-free zone.  I like it that way.  There's plenty other places to go for the other stuff.  But here, I like being out of the fray.  I like the quiet and calm a lot better.  If you read this little blog, I hope you find something here that's nice, too.

Pop goes the culture

Whilst traveling about the Interwebs lately, I've come across more interesting places that excel in the purpose of killing time.  Here you go:

:: Letters of Note, a place for the display of unique correspondence.  There are some real gems there, everything from the famous letter that started the "Yes, Virginia" tradition to dispatches from Presidents, celebrities, authors, and common folk in uncommon moments. 

:: The Kisseloff Collection.  Jeff Kisseloff wrote one of my favorite books, The Box, an oral history of American television's first four decades that's packed with great stories, and he's also written numerous other books and articles.  This blog is a place for him to display other things he's come across, and to discuss stories and display materials that couldn't fit into his books.  Be warned that a few of the things he's found can be a bit stark, and Kisseloff has a decidedly leftist bent, so if those kinds of things are issues to you, be advised.  On the other hand, some of the exhibits are downright priceless, like these 1948 notes from the NBC censor.   

:: Finally, while a lot of people go ga-ga over the Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am, this website is dedicated to the Pontiacs dearest to my heart.  It's no end of fascinating, especially since I'm planning to build models of a couple of the Rockford Firebirds.  (Perhaps I'll even have the little portable printing press sitting in the back seat so 1:25 scale Jim Rockford can print phony business cards?  It could happen!)

I guess I'm a big-time blogger now

I've been doing this little online journal/screed for a couple years now, and I sometimes wonder if it's making a dent in this series of tubes we call the Internet.  Well, I guess I've reached the big time.  Over the last few months, I've started to get occasional comments submitted to some of my posts.  They've been very interesting comments, too.  They have...well, interesting syntax, sorta like Kenny Loggins lyrics on steroids.  Here's one, submitted a couple days ago to a post about nothing in particular from a few weeks ago:

I do think that that’s accomplishable to go to this web page, because here simply people could notice the nice information related to this good topic. Therefore, the thesis service will take this for doctoral thesis making.

That's right, kids: comment spam.  I'm official now.  (And all the more reason why I hold all comments for approval.)

:: I've held off my comments until today about this year's Rolex 24 because of yesterday's commemoration.  It was interesting, after five years of watching it from the stands, to see it on television.  I enjoyed seeing all the nooks and crannies and close-ups we can't see when we're there (and it gives credence to the idea that the best seat in the house is literally in your house).  But there were some things I definitely missed: for instance, the sound of those big, powerful cars.  You can kind of pick it up on the television, sure, but once you've heard it with your own ears, it just isn't the same.  (That's especially true of the Mazdas, with their distinctive engine whine.  Wow.)  

On the other hand, we made the best of it.  We had inclement weather, so it was a perfect weekend for staying in and watching it all on television.  Thanks to a trip to the grocery store Friday, I provided a simulated Pizzeria Uno experience, complete with appetizer and pizza.  Then, after the appropriate length of time to simulate walking back from the restaurant, I got out dessert, and then surfed the Barnes and Noble website.  It was just like being in Daytona Beach without the travel or the tickets or the hotel room charges. 

The result?  Again, another fun victory.  It's always nice to see someone else win, and always nice to see when it's a Porsche.  But you figured that by now, right?

This far out, it's not certain if we'll be back down there next year, or if we'll again be watching from home.  But no matter how it works out, we'll have fun.  We could have been dejected about missing it this year, but it turned out to be a fun, and unforgettable, weekend all the same.

For whom the blog rolls

We had some time the other day for movies, and we watched Julie and Julia.  If you haven't seen it, you really owe it to yourself; it's a delightful movie, and Meryl Streep could not have better inhabited the role of Julia Child.  (And the scenes with Jane Lynch as Julia's sister are nothing short of a hoot.)

The premise of the story, based on something that actually happened, is that a young woman decides to cook her way through Julia Child's cookbook in 365 days, and she writes about her experiences in a blog that steadily gets a following and media attention.  Throughout, there's her wish that she could meet Julia Child, and her wondering if the great one had read her blog.  (I'll leave it at that so I won't spoil the story, if you don't know the outcome.)

I watched this film with delight, of course, but I also watched it from the standpoint of someone who keeps an online journal.  Unlike Julie's, mine doesn't chronicle an ongoing adventure or project (unless you count "living one's life" as an ongoing adventure or project).  There's really no mission here, as you've probably noticed.  I have thought it would be great to have an ongoing project I could chronicle and share online, because it's neat to check in on projects and watch progress be made.  Once upon a time, I meant to do that with my flying lessons, but you know what happened there.  I could do it with my models and gadgetry.  But, there, you run into the same problem I have with the projects I do in the workshop: I work on them at a glacial pace, and I really hate having to stop at certain points to take pictures, and then download them from the camera, Photoshop them...you get the idea. 

And, aside from that, none of the projects I do are really that interesting.  There's only so many posts, for instance, you can get out of degreasing and cleaning a surplus Enfield.  Once you've cleaned and refinished one, they're all pretty much the same after that.  Could I do the same with a Selectric?  Well, I could sure take it apart, but getting it back together and working properly again...let's not talk about that.

For whom do I write the blog?  For me.  I know there's a few folks who read it (even a famous person or two have stopped in), and I appreciate it, and I hope they get something out of it, even if nothing more than an occasional laugh (for the right reasons, I hope).  But, if no one else but me ever read it, I'd still do this.  It's good for me.  It helps me keep my writing skills at work.  It also lets me get some thoughts and feelings out that I couldn't easily get out elsewhere.  (Few things are less romantic than a quiet evening at home in which I turn to hubby and say, "I had the greatest day cleaning my Selectric II today."  Yeah.) 

Would the Julie Powell thing be interesting if it happened to me?  Perhaps.  I'd love a book deal, for one thing, even though I really have nothing worth putting in a book (though Heaven knows we could use the money).  But, even if the blog remains forever the way it is now, I'm happy.  I have enough going on to be content, and I like having my own editorial direction.  It's one place where I know I'm in charge, and I like that.  

Things past

A link hubby sent me yesterday led me to a very interesting blog and this remembrance of things long gone.  I'd imagine if you talked to most anyone who's been in the hobby for a long time, chances are he or she will have a story about at least one place like Ray's, where it didn't seem so much like a hobby shop as a time capsule.

YouTubes of Plenty

(Apologies to Erik Barnouw for that title.)

With the chores of the semester all but done, I've had little to do in the office the last few days except station-keep.  You never know when someone might need something, even though everything's pretty much buttoned up.  I spend those hours looking around the Interwebs for more obscurities and other treats.  The last few days have brought a bumper crop.

I have a love/hate relationship with the YouTube.  Part of why I hate it has to do with what a massive time vacuum it can be.  I'm serious: I can be searching for something and the results will come back with something even more interesting, and then I'll follow a link off it, and the next thing I know it's an hour and a half later and I still haven't watched what I came there to see in the first place.  But I love what I find, especially when it's stuff that I haven't seen in forever. 

(I have also learned that if I find something I like, it's best to download it for posterity, especially if it's something that may be a potential rights/licensing violation.  This is true of about 99% of the stuff I watch on YouTube, which is old airchecks.  I'm fond of the service offered by KeepVid, which will let you download as an FLV file or as a high-quality MP4 file, and I've had good luck burning the MP4s into playable DVDs.)

There's one more thing about YouTube that irks me, and that's some of the user comments.  Granted, some of the comments on there are really useful -- look around and you can learn the names of announcers, learn about how the network lines made the audio sound different, and so on.  Some comments are an education in themselves.  But sometimes you come across comments that are obviously the work of people with too much time and not enough knowledge, who just want to engage in uninformed sniping and snarkery.  A lot of them read like they're the work of bored teenagers.  And, sometimes, I blow my stack and have to respond.  Part of me feels that by, rising to the bait, I'm forgetting what a certain lady hero of mine said some time ago: something to the effect that a small part of you dies when you sign up for a user name.

Anyhow, even with all that, if you're alert and savvy and everything, you can find some real keepers on the Tube.  Here's some things I've found of late that bring back some memories:

-- The closing credits of the CBS telecast of the 1983 Talladega 500.  This is of interest not only because of my interest in the older days of auto racing, but also because it's a symbol of a simpler time in sports telecasting.  Nowadays, you don't get any credits that amount to anything, and the visuals and sounds you get are those that beat you over the head with what you're seeing.  So by modern standards it's unusual to see that, back then, they'd do a two-minute credit roll with some artistically-enhanced stillstores and some slow music drifting by in the background.  When CBS used to do this stuff after a big sporting event (car races, golf tournaments, etc.), it made me melancholy, and I'd wonder why, after an exciting car race, they'd do something that seemed almost mawkish.  A quarter-century later, though, after being beaten over the head with loud music, intrusive graphics, dancing robots and gopher-cams, though, this seems pretty classy to have done it.  The announcer reading the billboards is longtime CBS announcer Don Robertson (whose voice, for a certain generation, is the voice of CBS Sports), and the announcer doing the throw at the end is the great Ken Squier.  Alert NA$CAR history fans will notice, among others, the names of Bob Latford and Richie Panch in the credits.

-- Now this one came out of nowhere, and I forget how I found it, but here it is: the opening credits of a 1978 television series called Flying High.  It was a show that lasted all of five episodes, and I remember watching it when it was on the air.  I didn't watch because I wanted to be a happy-go-lucky flight attendant; I watched because, even when my age was in mid-single digits, I was obsessed with commercial aircraft and wanted to be an airline pilot.  Of course, in that universe I would have had to put up with the likes of Captain March, whom I remember to be sort of a G-rated Glenn Quagmire.  It's also amazing how, after one viewing, I remembered it all so well, and the theme music came back to me after 30+ years. 

-- 1978 marked the 50th anniversary of CBS, and the network celebrated with a weeklong series of specials.  Here's a promo for one installment.  The part I really love is the animated graphic halfway in, where the anniversary dates turn into the CBS eye during a quick, very lovely sequence.  (It's really a sight to behold when you look at it frame by frame.)  Knowing a little bit about how these things were done 30 years ago, I really admire the craft that went into these kinds of things.

-- And for my generation, this ultra-awesome animated sequence will live forever.  Come December, it usually meant Rudolph or Frosty or Charlie Brown was coming on.  I used to think the percussive sounds were the sounds the word "Special" made as it was turning.  Holy cow, what understated class, and I never knew what I had until the day it was gone.  (There's an interesting story behind that little piece of music, too.) 

Finally, though it's not a YouTube link, I did find this on a wiki dedicated to closing logos.  Note the "scare factor" rating.  The funny part is, I never had trouble with the "V of Doom."  The one that scared the crap out of me the first time I saw it (late one night on a black-and-white set in my darkened bedroom when I was 10 or 11) was the "pinball" variant.  (Here's another take on "scary logos.")

She's got Sammy Davis eyes

I mentioned yesterday this radio ratings deal we get the privilege of keeping over the next week, and I also vented a bit about how homogenized modern radio is, with the same skinny playlist with a lot of shopworn songs on it.  So, what do I do when I'm going somewhere and don't want to get caught in the same old song trap?  Well...

- Sometimes I'll set it on National Public Radio and listen along.  There are times when this is good, because NPR at its best is one of the last places you can hear a large variety of reporting on a bunch of interesting topics, and some of the reporting you can hear on All Things Considered or Marketplace is about as good as you can find.  The downside?  Well, the news-type programs are only part of the programming on the NPR stations we can pick up around here.  The all-news stations are out of radio range to my receivers.  The ones we can pick up mostly play classical music.  I don't have any problem with classical music (there's some I downright love), but it's not my cup of tea compared to other things.  Plus, sometimes NPR can get a little gassy...but that's another story.

- Sometimes I bring my iPod with me.  I have much of my good CD collection in there, and there's almost always something good I can find there, even obscure stuff.  The downside, though, is that working the iPod while driving can be downright dangerous.  This doesn't help, because I like to skip around at will and don't trust the shuffle feature.

- And sometimes I fall back on the little crate of CDs in the back seat.  These are all CDs I've burned from varied sources.  There's a Warren Zevon compilation, a Joe Satriani compilation, a Dwight Yoakam compilation, one or two from various artists.  And there's one that's just downright awesome.  Two, though, are especially fun, and they're a pair of 1980s music compilations with some of the great, now-cheesy Top 40 hits from back in the day: stuff like "Bette Davis Eyes," "Pac-Man Fever," Taco's "Puttin' On The Ritz," "Mickey" by Toni Basil...you get the idea.  I remember this stuff.  Perhaps one of my guiltiest pleasures is on this compilation: "Come On Eileen" by Dexy's Midnight Runners.  That's a song that never fails to put a smile on my face, and I'm never sure if it's because I genuinely love the song so much (which I do) or if it's because it's the epitome of a one-hit wonder.

:: When you can, send some happy get-well thoughts the way of Lisa Schmeiser, proprietor of Filthy Commerce, as she recovers from a little bit of medical work.

From the archives

Back in the day a friend and I (with the help of another friend, for a while) used to publish our own little humor magazine.  It started back in junior high school with really crude stuff done on the photocopier -- really bad head replacements, silly photographs, you name it.  But we had fun with it and became a little notorious among a certain set at school for it.  We weren't exactly our school's equivalent of Spy, but we did some things that got some chuckles, and, looking back, maybe a thing or two we shouldn't have been able to get away with.  Later, we got computerized and the doctoring got slicker, and eventually the publication found its way (if briefly) to the Interwebs. 

We haven't done anything with it in a while (though I reserved the URL for some purpose someday down the road), but while looking through some stuff on the hard drive, I found a couple pieces we put together for the online version.  It didn't have the same punch once The Onion had pretty much taken the field, but it gives me a warm Strontium-90 glow inside to remember it nonetheless.  Here's a sample of the kind of esoterica we enjoyed, which is nothing less than what you'd expect from the archives of a nerd who, 20 years ago, watched This Week with David Brinkley with the same dedication her classmates gave 90210:

:: Former CNN correspondent Miles O'Brien is right up there in my pyramid of nerd role models.  He's pretty much the whole package: not just an award-winning correspondent, and not just the closest thing to a Jules Bergman that American television journalism has had in a long time, but also a licensed (and enthusiastic) pilot and a space nerd, too, who came very close to getting to fly in space.  And he, too, has joined the blogosphere. I'm glad to have added him to the "Stuff I Like" list, because I do.  (By the way, he's now working for PBS on a new series of reports.  I can't wait.)

:: The end of the work week is a couple days away, and this Friday will be more welcome than usual because it will bring with it a weeklong hiatus.  I plan to spend it catching up on a lot of things, getting a JetStar model finished, finally being able to get to a library for some overdue archival digging, and basically trying to get my head together for the last big push.  I'm almost wishing I could put a countdown clock in my office, preferably one of those Solari-style flip-clocks Chromakeyed into my field of vision.  (This is nothing more than a long setup to provide a reason to link to this clip and what you see at about 4:50 into it.  I love what happens a couple seconds later, during the transition from T-minus 3:00.  You get to see it again at 6:11.)

At large

This has the potential for being a long day.  Hubby and I stayed up late last night, watching Gov. Palin's speech at the Republican convention, and I'm paying for it a little bit this morning, but not as much as I would have a few months back.  Back a few months ago, I'd have caught a little catnap after breakfast.  This morning, though, I was up, alert and more or less bright.  I think the exercise deal has helped.  I haven't had a stitch of caffeine this morning, either, which makes it all the more amazing. 

I'll need caffeine, though, before the day's out, as I have a meeting this afternoon that may get sort of intense. 

:: And may your God go with you For whatever reason, yesterday I remembered something that really took me back.  In my heart, I've always had a soft spot for Dave Allen, the Irish comedian.  Why?  Because I remember spending the late hours of Saturday night, sitting on the floor, watching his program on the 19" Zenith in my parents' bedroom.  While our own state's public broadcasting channels were sort of staid and uninspiring, the network one state over (which we could receive just fine with the big amplified antenna out back of the house) broadcast some stuff that, for the times, was pretty spectacular.  The first episode of The Twilight Zone I ever saw was on this channel -- I remember the theme music creeping me out, and that goofy spiral scared me to death (and, oddly, led to my fascination with the series, and with Rod Serling.  Why do I always end up getting fascinated by the things that scare me?). 

But this channel was more than just old American series.  This same channel carried many British television series, and they usually aired after 11 pm -- probably because the content of some of them was deemed "risque," and probably because they may have been a little too obscure for a general audience.  But, man, what awaited you!  I remember watching The Goodies, Doctor in the House, Morecambe and Wise, probably a stray Monty Python episode or two in there. 

Dave Allen At Large, though, made the biggest impression on me.  I was fascinated by this program, with its little filmed comedy bits strung together by Dave, sitting alone in a chair on stage, cigarette in one hand and glass in the other, telling stories as if you were sitting together in a pub.  Much of the subject matter was way over my head, but some of the filmed bits made me laugh, and something about Dave's on-stage presence radiated cool to me.  I loved the theme music (Alan Hawkshaw's "Blarney's Stoned"), the opening titles, and even the name itself (to my tiny mind, the idea of Dave Allen going off around the town on some sort of rampage seemed hilarious). 

I haven't seen an episode of Dave Allen At Large in forever, but, thankfully, there are plenty of YouTube clips out there from this show and from other performances of Dave's, and you can get an idea of what he was like.  And his influence hasn't left me; there are times when I'll be telling a story to my class and I'll feel like I should have a cigarette, a glass of whiskey, and half a finger gone, and when I was a free-ranging columnist at my college's newspaper, I put the words "At Large" after my name as the column's title.  All because of Dave Allen.  (See?  He even inspired the title for today's post.)

Man, just writing this little bit has brought back the memories.  My parents' bedroom was right next to my bedroom, and I can remember the sound of The Tonight Show through the wall as it came on after my bedtime.  During summertime, it'd often be pre-empted by a recap of the day's events at Wimbledon, so that NBC Wimbledon theme is borderline Proustian for me.  (On Friday nights I could stay up and watch Johnny Carson with my folks on that little black-and-white set.  I still remember the night we watched it on the color set in the living room and I realized, wow, look at all those colors on that curtain behind Johnny!)

:: I got a very nice e-mail last week from Arne, who has a neat blog called Notice to Airmen.  Like me, he has a background in the media and a fascination with aircraft.  He's been kind enough to add me to his list of links, and I'm happy to reciprocate with a link to his blog (over on the left, as "Notam").  Nerd Girl says check it out.

:: One more on the Alaska thing: Check out this neat Slate slideshow tour of Wasilla, Alaska.  I know many of those places in the photos, and it brings a smile to my face to see it again.

Once around the horn

I heard back from the regional flight surgeon yesterday (see last week's entry); a very pleasant phone conversation, and out of it came word that everything's just waiting on the outcome of my physical in a few weeks.  Everything up to now is in order, and that's what I needed to know.  It's now up to me to favorably impress my doctor.  Wish me luck.

:: Selectric Ladyland, revisited  One other thing happened in my life yesterday: While trolling evilBay during a few idle moments, I happened across, and closed the deal on, a functional Selectric I, dirt cheap.  You may remember I bought a Selectric I a few months back, but it got smashed in transit and was moribund anyway.  This one is identical, but appears to be a much better prospect.  I sort of flinched buying it (the real killer in buying a typewriter online is the shipping, which runs $35-$45 for a 40-pound Selectric), but I realized I'll never find another one this cheap again in this good a condition.  Stay tuned.

:: Aw, son  Yesterday also brought the distressing news that Jerry Reed has died.  I hadn't known he was so ill, but there you go.  He was kind of a staple in our household growing up, not only because of his appearances on the country music shows back then but also because of his appearances in movies like Smokey and the Bandit.  (My father was a part-time truck driver, and my brother was really gung-ho into trucks back in those days, and I sort of came along for it as well.  I'm still amazed by how many truck driving songs I still remember from all those truck-driving record ablums we had.)

Jerry Reed sort of fell into a caricature of this guy who talked this entertaining Southern slang ("I'm gonna stop and get some go-go juice and put some groceries down my neck") and sang these goofy songs, but what's often overlooked is that the guy was a magnificent guitarist, one of the best I've ever heard, and a sought-after session musician.  The ablum East Bound and Down was famous for its title track, but buried on it are several amazing songs, including a couple of really amazing instrumentals.

Every day, I'm reminded that I'm getting older.  Passings like this one, of someone who was a constant in my early days, really drive it home.

:: Holy mackerel   And as if that's not enough, Ike Pappas has died.  Pappas was a reporter for CBS who covered just about every story you can imagine from the 1960s through the 1980s.  But he's best remembered for his work on Nov. 24, 1963, and being the reporter who asked Lee Harvey Oswald his final question.

:: Worth bookmarking: this ultra-cool website that lets you keep track of the national weather picture, weather alerts, you name it.  (Shout-out to my buddy Doug Fisher and his excellent Common Sense Journalism blog, where I discovered said link.)