Channeling the Big Guy and Clark Griswold

 I bet there's some Richardson somewhere in his family tree.

           

Now that I have kids and an amazing lady in my life, I am often commenting on how much life reflects that thoughts and attitudes of the Big Guy and how I am truly his son. The event of last night’s shopping adventure at Target Black Friday sale has never brought out those traits more in my life.

Surprisingly enough, the actual idea of going out and sitting in line for 4.5 hours goes against all that my father stood for.  The Big Guy was doing mail order before mail order was cool. My father would often comment on “all the idiots wasting their time and how that’s not what the holidays are about” in his anti-Black Friday rant.  Over the years I have gradually accepted the Big Guy’s Holiday manifesto and lived it to its extreme. Until last night.

Li’l Sis had told me about the how Target would be selling the X-box Kinect for 99 bucks with 4 games. The idea of saving 150 dollars plus seeing the looks on my newly acquired sidekicks made me realize “this is the gift.” I knew I was committed at this point. Somehow I talked my amazingly understanding girlfriend in joining me and we took off for what was to be a grand adventure.

The line would have wrapped way out of the bottom right of this picture

In order to not waste your time, I am going to request you read Kim’s blog which details in great detail about our shopping excursion and all its epicness. After that come back and I want to hit a few highlights/thoughts. I’ll wait.

                                         http://kimwade1.blogspot.com/

I walked away from last night or rather I limped away from last night with three things revolving around my head.

1)      Shopping on Black Friday doesn’t have to be a bitch. We were stuck in line with some awesome people and I loved getting to know them. I am ashamed to admit that I was worried when the 4 large black guys got in line behind us. They were nice enough but I was concerned their boisterousness would get on my nerves. I love it when I am wrong. Amazing guys. It’s funny how anybody can sit back and relate if you can find a common thread. We probably spent hours laughing about the things we do for our kids and the wackiness that ensues. Later, we had a heated discussion about who has the best milkshake in town. It came down between Sonic and Krystal. That discussion brought all the surrounding men and a small clique was formed.  We never shared names which bothers me today because I realize I will spend the rest of my life looking back at that Thanksgiving night where a bunch a dads and me spent 4 hours laughing about family, drinking buddies (some Rag’s stories were shared to hilarious uproar), and milk shakes.

Who'd thought milkshakes was such a conversation starter?

2)      Lucky Man is going to be the working title for my book when I publish all theses adventures because I am. Having Kim in my life is the greatest thing to happen to me. She lets me be me. Kim went into the cold Target parking lot last night fully expecting failure but was willing to allow me to try. I am happy to say we were successful. I believe it’s because we make a good team. We pretty much threw a Thanksgiving dinner for 12 people and turned around to sit at Target with no arguments or major stress.  We did, however, laugh like hyenas the whole time. She kept me in stitches. Anybody that can make a Warriors and a Close Encounters of the Third Kind reference in one night is tops in my book. I fell in love a little more with her last night.

3)      I understand my parents a little bit more and why my dad became Clark Griswold every Christmas. For the first time in my life, I get to make two children make some memories of their own that will carry on to the next generation of Richardsons and Wades. That is powerful thing yet also beautiful. I realized last night I wanted that Kinect because I wanted to see that “look” on their face when they open it. It was the same look I gave my Mom and Dad when I opened up my Death Star Play set in 1978.  It’s that look of pure Christmas Morning Joy. I want to see that.

Yep, this is what I want to see.

Yeah, I am probably going to spend way too much money this Christmas, I’m probably going to get stressed about stupid Holiday issues like tangled lights or lines at the Mall, and I’ll probably act a bit like Clark Griswold as my own Christmas Vacation unfolds. I just hope that when those moments happen I can remember how I am in very good company because I come from a long line of Griswolds and I am great with that.

Thankful

I’m getting my catheter removed so around 7am Friday morning, I’ll no longer be a human bagpipe. Needless to say, I am psyched. Having kidney disease sucks but I hated having a tube run out of my body. It made me feel like a frickin’ droid and not in the cool way.

As I was leaving the hospital for my Pre-Op, I ran into this lady who was the spitting image of the mother from the Walking Dead who has the missing kid. She had short cropped, blonde hair and I could tell at one point she was a looker but sickness has aged her. She was walking very slowly like each step was painful and I noticed her angles were swollen with edema. She brought a lit cigarette to her lips as we passed.

She said to me with a sad smile and low voice, “Good to know that I am not alone,” as I hobbled by her.

Spitting image, just needs a cigarette.

My heart was hurting for her because I know how she feels but I couldn’t relate to her at that moment. Truth be known, it kind of pissed me off. I feel good. I feel real good almost like I used. I don’t walk very well anymore but I have boatloads of energy compared to Robby 2 years ago. I am not in pain anymore. I don’t feel sick all the time or weak. I am also happy.

Thanksgiving is a week away. I am very excited because I am spending it with my new family and my old family. I am thankful to have these people in my life and I hope they know I am proud to be in theirs.

I am sure at the dinner table on Thursday; we’ll go around and share what we’re thankful for. I know that I am going to say something about having my Mom and Kim and the kids at my table and I am going to mean every word. Deep down, I have already given thanks that I do not feel one little bit like that lady I passed yesterday. I apologize for my selfishness but it’s a good feeling to wake up and realize that I am going to make it through the day without being exhausted or hurting or depressed. I guess being thankful just doesn’t cover thinking of other people and appreciating them but also being a bit selfish from time to time.

Sorry being so serious. I just needed to get this off my chest. It has been haunting me since yesterday. I originally planned a Thanksgiving sort of blog because of a picture I found. Over the next week, I am going to try get a few fun T-day stories in but I love this picture. It is cracking me up and is over on the Star Wars blog. If you get a chance, read the T-day Holiday special idea pitched to them regarding Wookies and  a Turkey based Jedi. Priceless.

http://starwarsblog.starwars.com/index.php/2008/11/24/clone-wars-thanksgiving-special-nope/

Oatland Island

Oatland Island Wildlife Center is located just outside of Savannah along the way out to Tybee Island. The history associated with this place is amazing.  It started out as a way station for railroad workers back in the early 20^th century and eventually morphed into a major research facility that was instrumental in developing insect repellant. Its’ latest version is owned by the Chatham public school system to be used for outdoor education programs.  Here is their website:

               http://internet.savannah.chatham.k12.ga.us/schools/oat/default.aspx

I don’t know if you can use the term “zoo” but Oatland has created many wildlife habitats along some pretty amazing walking trails. My favorite is the wolves. Man, they are gorgeous and so huge. Oatland also sponsors what they call the Georgia Farm to give some of the local city kids an idea of just how rural Georgia works and sustains itself.

Oatland does the Harvest Fest which has become something I look forward to every fall. They do an old fashioned cane grinding to make syrup and even make some of the best apple butter I’ve had since I left the mountains. The whole event is presented in rustic log cabin setting to simulate what coastal Georgia might have felt like back in the mid 1800s. As the day moves on, traditional arts and crafts are shown along with games and even clogging with some old timey music.

http://www.wtoc.com/story/16025096/folks-learning-southern-tradition-at-harvest-fest

The Harvest Fest has become a favorite for me for many reasons. First, I grew up in North Georgia and we had something similar called the Sorghum Festival which I volunteered for many times during my junior high days with 4-H. It takes me back.

Second, I get a chance to cook over an open fire and be outside for a whole day. Outdoorsy Robby gets way too neglected and this becomes his chance to come back out and roar a bit. Besides, I believe food always tastes better outside. Don’t believe me? Try eating a PBJ on your front porch.  I’ll wait.

Third, I love anything old and covered in history. The Harvest Fest gives a bit of a peek into the old ways that we are so quickly forgetting. When I see little kids walking around and being impressed with how things “used to be done” I can feel the Big Guy channeling through me and I know why I am a teacher. I love my Xbox 360 dearly but I also love that I know how to cook over a fire.

Gary with his portable forge

This is Gary Lester from http://openfireforge.com/  This guy’s the real deal when it comes to knowledge about the old timey ways and is the closest person I’ve met to being a true mountain man in the last several years. Gary travels around to perform blacksmithing demonstrations while also teaches open fire cooking. We met a few years ago in one of his classes hosted by Oatland. That was a tasty day.

I could just pull up a chair and listen to this guy. Gary’s latest project is restoring an old chuck wagon. It goes without saying that when the Zombie Apocalypse comes, I want Gary on my team.



Gary teaching Jude the basics of smithing

Meet Wah Ho Ho, Oatland’s resident Barred Owl.  She was raised from an egg by volunteer, Vint Keener, who is affectionately known as the “Owl Guy” over at Oatland. According to Vint, Wah Ho Ho gets her name from the Cherokee word for “Owl.” Anytime Oatland makes an appearance, you can count on seeing these two and they are always a huge hit with the kids.



Vint and his buddy, Wa Ho Ho

 

Veronica meets Wa Ho Ho



These are some various shots from the Harvest Fest of our Open Fire Cooking Demonstrations. I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of cooking with a Dutch oven and am quite surprised at many people are into it. It’s like a whole another sub culture not unlike Trekkies and Deadheads though not as scary.

I think it appeals to people because we are in this habit of rushing everywhere for work and even play. I believe some people just appreciate the slow pace that comes with Dutch oven cooking.  I know that I do. The only other thing I wish I had with me on Saturday was a cigar and some Scotch.

Chicken on a string. Nature's rotisserie

Bannana Bread

My biscuits are burning!

Veronica manningthe samples table

This year I got the opportunity to get up on the main stage which is usually reserved for the musicians and cloggers, to do a little storytelling. There was a request to tell something with a Harvest theme so I shared a story about my Dad’s teenage years in 4-H. It went over pretty well and I had a blast. The kicker was to go up and see this sign:

One day this will be in lights...

As much as I love this, I loved Harvest even more because I got to share it with Kim and the kids. Once again, I realize just how lucky I am because everyone got into the spirit of things and had a blast. Jude practically became an Apprentice blacksmith with Gary. Veronica learned how to build a fire and was my cooking assistant. As usual, Kim jumped right in and helped out where needed. She usually was doing something before I could even ask.

At the end of the day, Kim looked at some the awesome food we had prepared and said to me,” I had no idea just how much fun today would be.”

I fell in love all over again.  Lucky.

Lucky man.

In Case of Zombie Apocalypse, Break Glass...

      There is usually one TV show that I look forward to every week. The Walking Dead has taken that slot in my world as of late. It’s also made me aware that we are undergoing what will certainly be referred to as the Great Zombie Revolution of 2011 because the undead are appearing everywhere

Best comic ever......

       The number of zombies I saw as I manned the candy station at Kim’s house during Halloween was baffling. Sure, I have known that out of all the monsters out there, zombies take the top slot as most terrifying. Even Jude has ditched his plans of us being stormtroopers next year so he can go as the Zombie skeleton boy.

          While I dig the hype, it also saddens me a bit. The down side is that much like every thing once it gets popular, soon Zombies will be considered old and passé’. Case in point, remember vampires about a year ago? Thanks to Twilight and True Blood, those bloodsuckers were quite the rage. Though I prefer my vampires not to sparkle and my werewolves wear a shirt. Thanks, Lon Chaney, Jr.  

"Run, Forrest!"

          It cracks me up because I feel a bit like the guy whose favorite underground band suddenly has a hit song on the radio. Being part o the geek movement, I’ve been immersed in the Zombie sub-culture for a while. Zack Snyder helped kick it back off for me with his beautiful remake of Dawn of the Dead back in ’04.  Shortly after that, I got into a sneak preview screening hosted by CHUD.com back in my Atlanta days. It was a small Brit movie called Shaun of the Dead. Afterwards, Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, and Edgar Wright did a Q&A when it hit that these guys may be on to something.

          Back during my ghost tour guide days, I stumbled across a little book everyone was reading called World War Z. It was written by the son of Mel Brooks but was by no means, funny. Write a book about zombies and you’ve piqued my interest. Write that same book in the still on a history book and I am hooked.  World War Z terrified me so bad, I never finished it. I got to the part where the zombies smarmed the escape boats and tankers only to topple them over. At the time, I was living in a small apartment by myself and I knew I’d get no sleep. I lent that book out and have purposely forgotten who has it.

          The Zombie Escape Plan was a popular topic of conversation during our afterhours drinking time at McDonough’s Bar and the Warehouse. Every guide I hung out with had their own exit strategy an of course, theirs was better. Looking back, I wasn’t too surprised to see how many of them drew striking similarities to Shaun of the Dead. Who doesn’t want to live in a bar and shoot zombies?

I eventually came up with my own and am pretty darn proud of it. It’s a simple plan which is why I know it will work. I steal a small U-haul and head out for Tybee. Along the way I scavenge for supplies, meds, tools, etc. Once I reach Whitmarsh Island, I hit the Publix and Wal-Mart for what ever I can load up and then head for Fort Pulaski.

I dub thee Fort Awesomeness....

 

After crossing the main bridge to Pulaski, I blow it up using the munitions for the cannon firings, clear out any zombies within the Fort and make camp. It’s protected on all sides by a combination of the ocean and a moat filled with gators. Eventually, I make my way to Tybee and grab a sail boat which I then use for scouting purposes, fishing, and my back up escape plan.

I may be a geek but in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse, I am a well prepared geek.

My Halloween Story, pt. 2 (With apologies to Jean Shepard)

(Hi, if the following entry from "The Tide" appears to not make sense or feels like you've walked into a story right in the middle, you have. This is part two of my attempt to rip of Gene Shepard. Enjoy!)  

Finally darkness fell and after my father checked through the motel window, he proudly proclaimed the “haunting hour had arrived.” Finally! This was the cue to finally don the Barry Cooper brand TM Penguin costume that I was destined to wear this season.

I surveyed myself in the mirror and my young mind had built up this image of Burgess Meredith from the TV show saying his trademark, ”Wak! Wak! Wak!” I figured the purple pin stripes would kind of snap against the fake tux jacket printed on the top. It did have that stupid Penguin logo (See previous post for my frustration). I carefully placed the plastic mask with monocle on my young face.

Instead of seeing one of the Batman’s most formidable foes from his rogue’s gallery, I saw this bright vinyl jumpsuit with this creepy dead face staring back at me. My heart fell. I was not the smooth criminal I had planned to be.

My mother was so prepared she made the boy scouts look like pikers. She must have anticipated this so she had a little surprise for me. A real umbrella! Ohmigod! How could I have missed such an important detail? Everyone knows the umbrella is the go to tool in the Penguin’s arsenal!   As she handed it to me mom whispered in my ear, “It’s not the costume but the attitude behind it.”

          With renewed vigor, I was ready for bear. I prepared to march out of Room 213 and straight into that Harvest Pageant. I truly felt like I was the Penguin and even began to practice my  “Wak!Wak!Wak!”  just like the TV show. Robby, excuse me, The Penguin, was ready for his close up.

 http://youtu.be/Xd7AC4S0NnU

          My father opened the motel door in act of over exaggeration like he was my faithful manservant. He bowed deeply as I marched out the door. Silly parent, Penguin doesn’t have a butler. That business is for Bruce Wayne. Penguin is a Super Villain and has henchmen to hold his doors. I honestly felt ten feet tall and bullet proof at that moment.

The Big Guy never fully grasped my vison of what his role was that night...

          I stood on the motel balcony expecting my parents to follow suit. Instead of obedient henchmen, I viewed my parents staring back at me as if they were waiting for me to do something grand. The Big Guy had a smile like he was a secret agent who had just completed his most dangerous mission yet. My mother’s composure was pleasant but I could see some cracks forming as if she was nervous about something. It was like my mom could see five minutes into the future and was contemplating conflict resolution.

          Fear began to creep in, My idiot parents were holding me back from this great Fall Gala Pageant going on downstairs. I should already be in that ballroom with the beautiful people hobnobbing. Also my level of self awareness changed, suddenly, I morphed from smooth criminal to idiot wearing a vinyl pants suit.

          To make matters worse, I began to collect an entourage along the hotel balcony. I was not prepared for this type of audience and my composure began to wither. It’s hard to look the same criminal mastermind who corrupts Gotham City when Ma and Pa Kettle semi-retired from Sarasota, FL are cheering you on.

          My father’s throat clearing  broke the uncomfortable silence that was building. The puzzled look on the Big Guy’s face silently signaled my mother to begin damage control. A sickly feeling began to rise in the pit of  my stomach.

          There was no Fall Festival Gala and Ball for me to attend! My parents, in their guilt, were trying to substitute trick-or-treating the neighborhood by merely knocking on our motel door! Tears were choked back as I slowly realized that the impending  crime spree would be limited to one small haul courtesy of an eager father.

          At that same moment, I suddenly understood why adults curse when they are upset. As much as I wanted to yell this word that I have heard  my grandfather and dad say on numerous occasions, I knew better  so I quietly thought it to myself.

          Dammit.

Like the defeated soldier I had become in this conflict of candy, I knew I had to keep my chin up and to accept what happens next or suffer the rage of a spurned father. My future did not hold any candy bars, full size or mini, no old ladies asking me who I was, or a bursting pail of candy that I could spend hours separating into “keepers” or “traders” with my pals. Every piece of candy I’d receive was on the other side of this dingy, gray motel room door. I took a deep breath, let out a little sigh, and knocked with very little heart in it due to overwhelming embarrassment.

My entourage of onlookers clapped as if I’d done something astonishing

 impressive.

 “Geez people, I just knocked on a stupid door.” I said softly to myself.

The Big Guy opened the door with mock astonishment like he

had forgotten that he’d sent his firstborn out on a motel balcony only to gather a crowd of perfect strangers which seems to go against only several parental rules that had been beaten into my head since Mrs. Robert’s kindergarten class.

          “Can I help you, fine sir?”

          My inner dialogue was going a mile a minute.

I began thinking, “OK, I’ll play along but I am not going to give you the “A” level performance that I am worthy of.”

“Trick or Treat.” I almost mumbled.

“Sorry, sir, but I can’t quite make that out. I’m an old man and my hearing just ain’t what it used to be. Can you repeat that but please make sure that I truly understand what you want. Loudly?”

The Big Guy was apparently really getting into the role of Astonished-Trick- or-Treatee #1.  Yeah for me….

I resigned myself to play along and get this over with much like going limp on the playground when Andrea Muller used to chase me to kiss me. Maybe Dad will lose interest just like Andrea. Not bloody likely.

I bellowed out my response with such mock enthusiasm and a smile that I was shocked when I didn’t get corrected. I guess the dead look on the Penguin mask was useful after all.

“TRICK OR TREAT!!!!!!”

More applause. Geez, Louise, haven’t these people heard of cable?

Like I had said the secret password, the Big Guy ushered me in and presented with an orange jack-o-lantern that was pretty hefty from the amount of candy.

My Mind raced and I thought, “OK, this was not so bad. “

As if on some sort of cue, my Mom turned on the TV and said, “Isn’t it time for your favorite TV show? “

“Show what show?”  I thought. Like a ton of bricks, it hit me because I was so absorbed in my quest for candy, I had forgotten about what was about to come on ABC. For a brief period, The Six Million Dollar Man was on every Friday night at 9pm until garnered high ratings and was moved to Sundays. How could I had forgotten? A little candy over an episode of Lee Majors thwarting Soviet spies might just save my evening.

Before Star Wars, this was my first pop culture obsession.

As I look back at this night, I can’t even remember one single piece of candy that I ate. Did I eat a Snickers or a Milky Way? No clue. The funny thing that in all my greed to get candy, I only remember one little detail.

As I sat on the edge of the double occupancy bed that I’d be sharing with my faithful sleeping companion, Pluto, the Big Guy joined me. Dreaming in a world where I had my own bionic powers, I barely noticed it when my dad dropped a toy into my lap.

“I forgot this,” said the Big Guy.

I looked down at my own Official Batman’s The Penguin Sky Diving Parachutist—now with realistic floating action. I’d been wanting one of these. I had mentioned this a few times when I saw it at Ryall’s Bakery which Mom and I visited sometimes when we went to pick Dad up from the library where he was the Asst. Director.  The parachute was purple and this really cool umbrella sticking of it. Not too shabby. Maybe this night was not a total loss.

Mom said it was too late for me to throw it tonight but I could get a few practice tries before leaving for Rock City in the morning. I began to think of new and exciting ways the Penguin could enter into his impending crime spree on Chattanooga. Didn’t Rock City have this huge cliff called Lover’s Leap? Ideas began to percolate until the Big Guy put a kibosh on that (though he did admit it’d probably be pretty cool).

All in all, it was a pretty decent trip. In retrospect, I know the Big Guy was just trying to make some family memories for us. I am much older now and can see we are cut from the same cloth. Basically, we are big kids, over eager as adults, trying to share this crazy world with our kids. We both have the gift of tunnel vision in order to create those amazing family memories which are long and vast.

I find myself chuckling at my own actions when I begin to get my feelings hurt because something didn’t go as planned. While I am not that same little guy who went to Tennessee to see some giant rocks, I also find myself sometimes building things up way too much in my head. I refer to it as “doing a Griswold.”

Swear to God, I am trying to not become this guy...

These days I go out of my way to restrain my imagination/expectations which have root in seven year old Robby while trying to balance out my new found Alpha Male role now that I am the “Big Guy”.

I also remind myself that while I have forty plus years of experience, I can still be outsmarted on occasion just like on a those rare occasions when I pulled over  the Big Guy. I am a firm believer in that no one wins them all and on occasions it the ball swings the other way. Here’s why.

Many of these tourist traps were notorious for figuring out ways to get free ad space in a world before the internet. In every parking lot of these tourist destinations, there was always a guy whose job was to place bumper stickers or other advertising paraphernalia on the parked cars while the families were none the wiser.  Rock City was notorious for this and even has a special metal bumper sign that was held in place with some special screws. Of course, there was a way around this. The park visitor merely had to place their visor in the down position as if to say,”Thanks, but no thanks. “

It goes without saying which camp my father came from. He felt that between parking and admission prices that there was no way in hell, he’d be a part of advertising those rip off artists for free. The whole trip up he kept going on about reminding him to pull the visor down.  I thought it’d be kind of cool like a badge of honor displaying the scenic vista the Richardsons had visited. Once again, little Robby’s opinion was taken under advisement but not followed.

After pulling down the Gran Torino’s front visor, the Richardsons were ready to experience Rock City with all its greatness. As we made our way to the gates, I realized I had forgotten my gum. Gum to a seven year old boy is a necessary component of survival. Mom gave me the keys once I promised to double check that I’d lock up. The Big Guy interjected that we didn’t need” to get robbed. “

My young mind wanted to retort with what an amazing haul those bandits would receive. Their loot would consist of a worn out eight track of Glen Campbell and a snack bag filled with mealy apples and red hots. Banner day for the criminal world. I opted to keep my mouth shut and go get my gum.

This was crack to me as a kid. It squirts when you bite it!

After shoving two pieces of spearmint Freshen Up in my mouth I somehow got transfixed on the windshield.  A devious thought crept into my mind. I know the Big Guy tried to make up for last night but somehow I still felt slighted and I still wanted justice. My conscience was torn but I knew what I had to do.

After spending a full day shoving through the Fatman’s Squeeze, crossing rope bridges, and the Fairy Tale Village which was way creepier than it should have been, we returned to find the Gran Torino had received the full family value treatment: Two bumper stickers on the rear bumper and the dreaded metal sign on the front. It appeared the Rock City Parking Lot Attendant was a few steps ahead of the Big Guy. Score!

The Richardson wagon train home was uneventful and not that painfully drawn out. The hardest part was stifling the huge laugh I had as the Big Guy ranted from Tennessee well into the Milledgeville city limits. I also learned some new words that I couldn’t wait to drop on the playground well out of the teacher’s ear shot.

My return to Northside Elementary was quietly as my friends filled me in their Halloween evening. It was OK but apparently I did not miss anything grand. I even got cool points with my new Penguin parachute toy and for a while was the leader of the pack. At least I was until Keith Wray went back to the 7-11 and bought more Six Million Dollar Man trading cards.



My Halloween Story, part one

Yesterday, I spoke of my love of Halloween and how I am getting into the idea of it all again through the love of my new family. The following is a one of my Halloween stories that I relayed to Kim while cooking our Sunday morning pancakes and she couldn’t stop laughing. Frankly, I never realized how humorous it was until I looked back at this with 43 year old eyes. I have to admit that some parts still frustrate me from my youth.

          To open like a Simpsons flashback, the year was 1976 and was all jamming to Elton John back when we thought he was just a straight man with flashy clothes and dreaming about the American Bicentennial. I was a bright eyed, precocious seven year old that was getting excited about Halloween coming up with all my second grade buddies.

How could have not known? Really?

See earlier in the week, Chuck Carey had talked about how the Woolworth’s had been putting out the Halloween costumes and we should all get some that matched. Well, we loved watching Superfriends so we decided on a meta-hero theme. 

          Sweet, I was all set because I had my old Superman costume from last year and I could recycle that one. Bonus! Dad won’t complain about spending money because “back in my day we made our costumes and our fun. Why can’t you just go as a ghost or a hobo?” 

          The other bonus was that Superman was the informal head of the Justice league therefore, leader of the Superfriends. It looked like I’d get my first taste of real power.  This was primed to be the best Halloween ever.

Yep, that was going to me in the center.

          Unfortunately, this was not to be the case. It began when our little group was on the playground and attempting to delegate their assigned roles for the upcoming trick-or-treat-fest. I was prepared to step and be the strong leader this group needed but was somehow outflanked by Keith Wray who had sneakily, planned ahead and brought Six Million Dollar Man trading cards as “gifts” to those who’d support his quest for power.  Keith was our Superman.

          Somehow I the roles were assigned and I still made out pretty good. Chuck Carey was Green Arrow, David Carnish would be the Flash, and I got Batman. It wasn’t Supes but it is still top tier. Now the issue was to convince Mom and Dad to get a new costume.

          A few tears and an impassioned speech about honoring a commitments and I was in the gran torino headed to Woolworth’s at Hatcher Square Mall in beautiful downtown Milledgeville. There was only problem. By the time, we got to the store, they were all out of the Ben Cooper made Batman costume. It was thin pickings at this point. I started to suggest going to another store but my mom had that look that all moms get when they are debating if they’d still have their looks once their sentence was served for the mysterious death of their persnickety child who couldn’t decide on an item purchase. You know what I speak of.

          I went with the Penguin from Batman. At last I was still in the DC meta hero realm. Besides, every hero needs a foil so I’d be heading up the Legion of Doom or maybe the Society of Injustice. I could make this work.

          Enter conflict number two. A bout a week later, we were eating dinner when my father makes an exciting announcement. We are going on a trip!

“Sweet”, I thought to myself. “I enjoy visiting new places and collecting postcards.”

My father grinned because he was so proud of himself, the old man could hardly contain himself. “Next weekend, your mother and I are taking to you to visit one of America’s greatest land marks, Rock City.”

“I can’t next weekend. It’s Halloween and we are trick or treating together as the Superfriends. “I said thinking this would easily resolve the matter. I had not learned my father’s tenacity at sharing great American landmarks as of yet.

Say it with me, you know what comes next. My father replied they endgame to every parent conversation regarding friends versus family events.

“You can hang out with your friends anytime. This is time we need to spend together as a family.”

“But it’s Halloween!” I pleaded.

“Son, we haven’t forgotten. We have made special arrangements for that.” My father countered.

Special arrangements, I thought. Ok, maybe this could work out. Maybe we are going to a special haunted house or there is some sort of catered event occurring where we’re staying that makes sure all kids stuck with their crummy parents will get Halloween candy. The good stuff too. It will be all candy bars and popcorn balls plus none of that black and orange candy that has no real taste except sweet.

I knew I had no real chance of debating my point. When the big guy laid out cash for something, we always “had to honor those commitments. “  Off to Chattanooga, Tennessee we went.

Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself here. Rock City is truly one of America’s landmark but only in the back roads of America sense. Basically, it’s a giant rock garden advertised by a series of barns proclaiming, “See Rock City.”



Black light makes history come alive!



The place was created by the same guy who created mini golf and made a mint selling franchises until the bottom fell out in ’29 with the rise of the great Depression. Using a piece of string, his wife had mapped out a rock garden on a strip of unused property and decorated with lawn gnomes/fairy tale characters. Poof! You’ve got a tourist trap, people. Combine that with some Civil War battlefields, and some museums and you’ve got the makings for a traditional Richardson family vacation.

Gnomes and moonshine make for a fun family getaway.....

Elves, bowling & moonshine. What the hell was my father thinking?

I don’t know why the big guy decided to pick that weekend of all the weekends to go on a family road trip. He never worked weekends. I asked my mom about this and she shrugged her shoulders and just said that my dad was famous getting a bug in his bonnet to go do something spontaneous. Hmm, can’ relate to that one. I guess my dad loved history so much that he really wanted to impart on my what an interesting are of the world we resided in. Whatever, it worked. I teach High School history and force my adopted family to stop and read those same signs in an attempt to impart that same love.

Halloween fell on a Friday that year and it was the longest day in school ever. It was even worse that the day before summer vacation. Eventually, the Richardsons began their trek in their’69 Gran Torino to the beautiful state of Tennessee. I was disappointed that I was not getting to be part of the SuperFriends but I never let on to Keith Wray and that crowd. I even went so far as to make a big deal about this special Halloween event my family was invited to up in the mountains so it was with a heavy heart that I’d to decline the Superfriends cordial invitation for admission.

The whole ride up made me a bundle of nerves. The Big Guy, in his academic brilliance, decided to map out our trek to Chattanooga via the same trial as General Sherman’s March to the Sea but only in reverse. This had to be such a major conflict of interests because, in addition to loving any chance to impart about history (which for the record, he was very good at); the Big Guy loved to make good time. I tried to use this as a point of order to hurry up and get to this Fall Fest. It fell on deaf ears as my mother pointed out to me that both of those possible routes were indeed almost the same. I clicked on my seatbelt and knew we were in for a long drive.

I remember stopping at this one. It's near Macon.

Many mile markers and a few rest stops later, the Richardsons pulled in to the Days Inn just down the road fro Lookout Mountain, TN. I excitedly surveyed the scene for any sign of a Halloween party or Fall Festival. No orange or black crepe paper decorated the scene. The office did have scarecrow on the window. Maybe everything was in the hotel’s convention room just like I had seen on TV.

I imagined myself casually strolling into the party dressed with a regal swagger as the Penguin. Hey, he wore tops and tails, shouldn’t I act the part and be the smooth criminal that deep down I knew I was?

The other kids dressed like ghosts and hobos would turn their hands and move aside as I marched up with a casual determination to the well stocked treat table full of cupcakes and candy bars. Red solo cup of Hi-C in hand, I’d make small talk with the girls dressed in the Holly Hobby and Raggedy Ann costumes. These same girls would giggle as I’d say clever things like, “I must get out of these wet clothes and into a dry martini.” I had no idea what that actually meant but I know it was something a classy guy would say at a party.

Oh yeah, that's me with the eye patch....

As Mom and dad unpacked, I plagued them with questions like. “When are going?” and “How much longer?” topped my lists. My mother kept trying to hush me told me numerous times that good things come to those who wait. This always frustrated me because this was the opposite how she’d wake me up with that “Early bird gets the worm” bit. Looking back, I realize that my mom was trying to keep the Big Guy in check rather than actually soothe my impatience. After one too many questions from yours truly, the Big Guy had enough and let out his famous Alpha male roar. This was my cue to be reminded that I was pack follower and not pack leader. I sat down in the corner in an attempt to be quiet.

To be Concluded Tomorrow........

All I Got Was a Rock....

It’s funny how Halloween creeps up and I always surprise myself by realizing, out of the blue, how much I dig this holiday. It’s like I forget each year then all of the sudden, I remember right around the end of September. For the past few years, I’ve gotten out of the rhythm of the holiday but thanks to two very energetic kids, I am back in the swing of things.

It should not be a surprise to me but I find it interesting just how much Halloween has changed since I was a kid way back in the seventies. This Fall Festival crap irritates me. There is nothing demonic about Halloween. It’s just an excuse to get candy and pretend to be someone else. And pretend I have but that’s later.

Remember these? At least the costumes have improved since we were kids. It was always an exciting trip down to Woolworth’s to pick out the selection for that year. I don’t know why I got so excited. The mask was hard to breathe through and my tongue would get caught in the mouth slit. That damn elastic band would always break. The suit was basically a vinyl jumpsuit designed to hold in sweat so by the end of the night, I was drenched.

To add insult to injury, all of those old costumes would have the character’s name printed somewhere on the chest with a cheesy logo. This always irked me for some reason. I have a big red “S” on my chest who could I be? Nixon? I’ve got black mouse ears with silk screened red shorts and buttons? I must be Daffy Duck. I don’t walk around town with an action scene painted on my chest under a big stenciled “ROBBY,” so why would the Six Million Dollar Man? My dad said it was to help out the stupid kids but in retrospect I think he was dodging the question.

While some of the social restraints are a bit silly, at least the costumes have improved. Some are even worthy of being on the silver screen or Broadway. Veronica’s Vampire Queen is down-right chilling how gothic it’s turned out. Jude is going as Han Solo and his costume looks like a tiny Harrison Ford dropped it off in the closet.

I am going as Chewbacca and I am very excited. At first I thought it was because of the whole “kids” thing but that’s only part of it. It’s actually a little more selfish than that. For the first time in several years, I am excited about Halloween because I have somewhere to go and someone to be with. Three some ones to be exact and it’s given me renewed sense of purpose.

Right when I got to be too old for Halloween, Mary came along and we used to make her costumes. I had forgotten how much fun I used to have making stuff for her amusement. Last Saturday, I spent most of it building a holster for Jude’s blaster. I loved every minute of it. As soon as I am done typing this, I start work on my Chewbacca bandolier. I had forgotten how creative I can be when I get started and I thank Kim and the kids for kick starting me. This part of me has been dormant for way too long.

So what’s next? Kim told me about a gingerbread house contest at the Westin for the holidays and I keep getting a vision of a Popcorn ball boulder chasing gingerbread Indiana Jones through an Aztec Burial chamber of licorice.  Just keeps getting interesting.