Baltimore Diary

The Family That Bikes Together, Sometimes Lives to Tell the Tale

Announcer: [reading] Yes, wherever bicycles are broken, or menaced by International Communism, Bicycle Repair Man is ready! Ready to smash the communists, wipe them up, and shove them off the face of the earth... [yelling] Mash the dirty red scum! Kick 'em in the teeth where it hurts! Kill! Kill! Kill! Filthy bastards! Commies! I hate 'em, I hate 'em! Aaaah! Aaaah!

—Monty Python's Flying Circus, "How to Recognise Different Types of Trees from Quite a Long Way Away" (10/19/69)

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This past weekend GF and I went back to Performance Bike to see if I could get a deal on a replacement for the one that was stolen a couple of weeks ago.

The trial for the guy who took the last one, incidentally, is July 17. I got a notice in the mail that directed me to appear "as Victim" on that date.

Performance had a sale going on, plus I had a 10% off coupon, plus I had some of the loyalty points racked up (because of the old bike, natch). The bad news was that they didn't have another Voyageur in stock and weren't really expecting to see one in the near future. So after some more shopping around, a few test rides and such, I settled on this guy:

This is the Sierra, also by Schwinn. It's not a lot different from the Voyageur; probably a step down in overall sportiness. It's also got the regular brakes instead of the discs, but I'm OK with it now. I think the thing that put me off the regular brakes last time around was the fact that the fork has a shock absorber in it, which I wasn't used to. Thus, when I stopped hard, the whole front end of the bike will dip, making you feel like you're lofting the back wheel when actually you're not. It's also got a larger frame than the Voyageur had: I had a Medium frame on the Voyageur, but after a few rides I realized it felt just a bit too small for me, so I took the opportunity to get a Large frame on the new bike.

I actually rode the bike home from the store, which is a good couple of miles and in a headwind almost all the way. Naturally I waited until the new bike was safely locked in the garage before I called 911 to report the heart attack I was having. OK, that's not true. In fact, I felt pretty good although I realized I was going to be facing some stiff muscles the next day. If you know me, you realize that I don't exactly look like the athletic type. I may not look like much, but I'm wiry. Heh.

While we were at Performance, GF decided that it was time for her to get a bike as well. I thought we were going to hit Wal-Mart or some such for that, since she is probably going to use hers much less than I'll be using mine (I'm hoping to use it for the occasional work commute, for instance--she has no such plan). But, whatever, let's get her a bike. She did some test sits but no actual test rides, and it turns out that for her, the COLOR of the bike was the deal-breaker. She learned that the bike she liked wasn't available in the color that she wanted, however one was due in to the store in an upcoming shipment, so she placed a hold on that bike. As it turned out, she'd ordered the female version of the Sierra. So, except for the color, we've essentially got the same bicycle.

Of course, the bicycle is still the only machine out there that has sexes. Have you noticed that? What other piece of machinery gets definite "male" and "female" designations and actually looks different from one to the other? Ponder that one, if you will.

Anyway.

The bike came in this afternoon and we went to pick it up. Since she wasn't going to be riding it home, we also picked up a rack and an adapter for her bike (won't go on the rack nicely since the crossbar has that drop to it). So with the sale prices and the coupon and the loyalty club points and the guy throwing in GF's kickstand for nothing (they don't come automatically anymore), we got:

• My bike
• Her bike
• Rear rack for my bike
• Water bottles and racks for both
• Car carrier rack
• Adapter for GF's bike
• Helmets (2)
• Lock for my bike (oops, gotta get one for her)

all for about $550. Not a bad deal.

Now, all three of us have the bikes and GF thinks it'd be fun for the three of us to all go for a quick ride after dinner. I suggest that we hit the snowball stand up by SuperFresh. So we took the back alleys (first, for Wee One's safety; and second, so GF can get used to using the gears) that ran parallel to Harford Road, then when we ran out of alley, we rode the sidewalk the last block into the Parkville Shopping Center. But what happened was, GF still wasn't getting the hang of the gears, so she'd stop and walk the bike up some of the hill. Wee One would stop to wait for her mother. I wound up covering almost twice as much ground because I'd get ahead, then double back or just ride in circles till they caught up to me.

We got to the snowball stand and GF ordered snowballs while I adjusted both of our seats. Hers was loose laterally and mine was poking me in places better left un-poked, if you catch my drift. Again I tried to review the gears with her, and we mapped out the route back home: Taylor Ave to Moyer and so forth to our home stree and into the alley behind the house. Again, GF wanted to stick to sidewalks, thinking that Wee One would probably get wiped out by traffic. The problem was, on Taylor Avenue not all of the curbs have ramps cut in them. Plus, when I got ahead and then everyone else slowed down or stopped altogether, I wound up getting waaaay ahead because there was nowhere to turn around or ride in circles; I was on a narrow sidewalk with nowhere to go. Finally, on Moyer Avenue I abandoned the sidewalk altogether and just kept working in big loops in the street, getting ahead and then riding back to find out where the hell they were.

The street we live on is a modest rise, then an intersection, then it's downhill all the way to the house. At that point I basically waved "goodbye" to them and boogied down the hill and into the alleyway. My bike was locked up and in the garage before I saw either of them again.

So until everyone gets the hang of this, these family outings are going to be pretty excruciating. I'm thinking that the next time I take them anywhere, I'm going to leave them at home.

Form Letter

Cashier: Yankee bean soup, coleslaw, and tuna surprise.

—Blazing Saddles (1974)

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This one is kind of dumb, but I did promise to tell, so.

Right after the Bill Bateman's thing went down I was on my way from one work location to another and I popped into a 7-Eleven store to pick up a beverage and sandwich. I've done this several times at several 7-Elevens across the city, but this particular time was at the store on East 25th Street, at Kirk Avenue. This, by the way, is one of my favorite 7-Eleven stores anywhere, if one can be said to have such a thing. I grabbed a tuna sandwich and poured myself a fountain beverage (2/3 Diet Coke, 1/3 regular to cut the saccharine flavor of the diet).

 I don't know why, because who really knows these things, but I really like the tuna salad that you get at 7-Eleven stores. And up until recently, they put it on a cracked wheat bread that really did something extra to the whole sandwich. I'm not a complicated guy or anything, but this was a nice combination and it had what they call "good mouth feel" for me.

In the last few weeks, however, whoever's been supplying the stores with the sandwiches isn't using the same bread. Now they're using something called "Fridgesoft Wheat". OK, first off they totally made that name up, and second, it doesn't even sound appetizing. As it happened, there was a toll-free phone number on the packaging, so I gave them a call.

The person I spoke to was very nice, but she was so programmed to deal with heavy-duty complaints that my initial compliment of the tuna salad itself whipped right by her; she didn't even register it. It was when I got to the change in the bread that she decided she had something she could sink her teeth into. Heh. I made it clear that this wasn't a dealbreaker, but if anyone's taking notes on this sort of thing, I'd much prefer the old bread. Her language continued to assume that I was an irate customer who was threatening never to darken the doorways of their stores ever again. Her final move was to offer me coupons for some freebie beverages.

Today I received the coupons in the mail, along with a letter from someone named Janey Camacho which, once again, indicated that the she had no idea why she was sending me coupons, except that I'd had an "unpleasant shopping experience...at the 7-Eleven® store located at 729 EAST 25 STREET" and apologizing for any inconvenience this may have caused. There was also sincere regret for "any inconvenience or distress [I] may have experience [sic] at this location..."

Sigh. Way to pay attention, Ja-ney.

I actually feel bad for this store, since as I said above, I really like them. I also tried to make it clear that this was a city-wide situation, and the 25th St. location was simply the last place I'd been to. So I'm hoping that they, in particular, didn't catch a lot of crap for it. I've actually considered writing back to Ms. Camacho and setting the record straight. But I get the feeling that this would lead to something out of a Monty Python sketch where she sends a second apology to apologize for the first letter, and so forth. So I'm not sure what I'll do.

Other than enjoy a couple of freebie beverages, of course.

Last Impressions

Ainsley Hayes: I'll ask again: for what purpose was I brought here today?
Leo McGarry: So I could offer you a job.
Ainsley Hayes: I'm asking because I do not think that it is fair that I be expected to play the role of the mouse to the White House's cat in the game of... you know the game?
Leo McGarry: Cat and mouse?
Ainsley Hayes: Yes.

—The West Wing, "In This White House" (10/25/00)

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All good things must come to an end, and so it was for my brother and my sister in law. The other night I went to the AirTran website and printed out their boarding passes. I also checked to see if their flight was running on time, which it was. So we got them packed into the car and off we went to Baltimore Washingtom International Thurgood Marshall Airport.

And what the hell kind of name is that for an airport? If my brother followed the sign from the beginning he'd be home by the time he got to the end of it. It must take gallons of paint just to touch up that sonofabitch.

ANYway.

We get to the airport and while we're waiting to check their bag, we notice the Departures board. And just like that, their 7:55 flight is delayed to 9:09. Well...at least they don't have to worry if the line slows down. But it's still only about 6:15. We get the bag checked and my brother decides that he's hungry, so we start looking around for a place to eat. This is easier than it used to be at BWITMA because they've FINALLY put in places on this side of the security checkpoint. We decided to stop in at the Bill Bateman's Bistro.

Our initial greeting wasn't the warmest, but I marked that down to the fact that this woman suddenly had three parties to seat at once. For all that, it wasn't especially busy in there.

By now, you probably realize that I don't write stories that begin with "We went to a restaurant" and end with "and it was delicious!" What you're waiting for is the next part, where something goes wrong and I wind up writing to the Customer Service department. So I'll let my email to them tell some of this. I used their "Online Comment Card" so they already have the date, time and location:

While waiting for a delayed flight, I stopped in with my brother and sister-in-law for something to eat. The waiter was friendly and efficient and we have no complaints there.

Shortly after we started eating, we noticed two gentlemen at a table nearby looking at something. It turned out that they were watching a mouse scampering around their immediate area. As we looked around, we realized that there were actually several mice running around the dining area where we were sitting. We counted at least five individual animals. We asked to speak to the manager and she was reportedly nowhere to be found. We told the waiter that we were leaving and would not be paying for our meal, although we did tip him for his efforts. He commented that he didn't really blame us, although his overall attitude appeared to be more as though he was resigned to the situation rather than surprised or upset by it. This, in effect, was my brother's last impression of the Baltimore area: a delayed flight and a rodent-infested restaurant.

It was actually a little worse than this. My brother got really upset and started swearing, telling the waiter that his appetite had been "frigged up" (yeah, I don't know either) and that "I'm not gonna eat this fuckin' shit. I'll give you [the waiter] some money, because you did your job. But I'm not paying for this shit." By "nowhere to be found" I meant that the manager, we soon learned, left the restaurant and nobody knew where she was headed. Back to my note:

I realize that airport restaurants don't necessarily depend on a lot of repeat customers (who, by definition, are transient) and therefore probably don't feel required to care about the people who pass through. However, this is a small, local chain which presumably still has relatively centralized control. Therefore, as someone who lives in the area, I'm inclined to generalize my experience to the other restaurants in the chain, and I'm going to have a very hard time returning, or recommending Bill Bateman's to anyone.

Yeah, I know I was baiting them there, a little bit. (Heh. See what I did there?)

I thank you for your attention and, while I'm not begging for an apology or a refund (as I said, we didn't pay for our partially-eaten meal), I would welcome your comments regarding this situation.

I read once that when you write a customer complaint, you should spell out specifically what you want out of your transaction. I didn't really want much other than acknowledgment by this point, especially since the waiter was so blasé and the manager was apparently on the run.

A couple of days later I got a letter from Lee Glowacki, the Area Manager for Bill Bateman's Bistro Corporate Restaurants, via US Mail. The letter was kind of long, so I'm going to cut a little and paraphrase a little.

They noted that the airport location is a franchise and that while they are not directly responsible for this location, "we will do everything possible to see that your concerns with them are handled appropriately." They stressed that all feedback is invaluable, and that "excellent service, outstanding food and drinks, in a clean comfortable restaurant, is what we strive for."

"We are disappointed," Lee wrote, "at our obvious lack of attention to your needs and for the staff giving you the impression we do not care." There was a promise to follow up with the Franchise Owners (capitalization his) concerning my experience. He then assured me that it was their "corporate policy, if there is ever a guest satisfaction issue that the manager on duty should be made aware of the problem, and whenever possible be corrected immediately. Obviously that did not happen with you." He closed the letter with an offer to bring it in to their Glen Burnie location for a $20 credit. 

So there was a pretty quick response to the problem, and while it wasn't something the restaurant could have handled immediately as such, that they made the offer despite my telling them that I didn't really want anything other than a response, goes a long way, for me. I don't know that I'm going to pop back into the BWITMA location just to see whether or not they've gotten rid of the rodents, but it was good to get the response, a promise of actual action AND a coupon that basically asks for another chance.

Next up: My call to 7-Eleven and More Coupons I Didn't Really Want.

Roller Coaster Weekend

Jackson Lucas: [after being revived] I can't see anything! Am I blind?
Ned: Good news is you're not blind. Bad news is you're dead.
Charlotte 'Chuck' Charles: Makes blind seem like a walk in the park, doesn't it?

—Pushing Daisies, "Pigeon" (10/24/07)

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Yow. A few minutes to breathe, finally. So of course I'm burning them up with the likes of you.

The last few days have been a bit of a whirlwind. Even when I thought it was going to slow down (like it was SUPPOSED to), it didn't.

The Pig Roast was a lot of fun, despite the rain that drove everyone indoors for a little while, but we rallied and had one of my best pigs ever. Unfortunately, dealing with the rain and some of its effects on the party as a whole (notably, getting all the food moved inside) meant that I lost over an hour of mingling and socializing. So if I didn't get to chitchat with you much (or at all), my sincere apologies and I hope you had a good time. Even if I did get to chitchat, I hope you had fun as well, but at least I have a better handle on how your evening went.

Because my brother was in town, he and his wife were using my bedroom. GF was in Wee One's bed (Wee One was with her father), and I was on the sofa. This doesn't bother me specifically, since I tend to fall asleep on the sofa roughly once a week, watching old movies on TCM. It's quite the comfy couch, if you ask me. This season we're using the Idemo Dark Blue slipcover. Anyway.

Sunday morning and the phone is ringing at about 7:15. Amazingly, I'm not hung over, but I did get to bed pretty late and I'm just a bit too groggy to get to it in time. A half-hour later there's a knock on the door. I answer it and it's GF's parents. Her father asks me, "You know why we're here, right?"

It takes a second and then the light goes on. His mother, GF's grandmother, has died.

This wasn't entirely unexpected, but you still don't like to hear it. For that matter, I'm sure they didn't enjoy saying it, either. GF was very close to her grandmother, so this was naturally a huge blow to her. The three of them left right away.

Now, our plans for the day involved going to Washington DC to see some extremely historical objects and some very Federal buildings. This was pretty much up in the air now. GF called a couple of hours later telling us to go to DC anyway, without her.

Our DC tour was rather whirlwind, but we saw a lot of stuff, considering. The Museum of American History is still closed for renovations, so my plan to follow up on Friday's theme was shot to hell, since I couldn't show them the original Star-Spangled Banner. But we spent some time cruising around the Capitol Hill area, then we stopped in the Natural History museum. We had lunch in the Atrium Cafe (I highly recommend the burrito). Then we walked past the Washington Monument to the World War II memorial. I'd never seen that before so it was new to all of us. From there we walked along the Reflecting Pool to the Lincoln Memorial. Up the other side of the Reflecting Pool to the Vietnam Memorial. I felt badly about passing up the Korea memorial but time was getting to be a factor for us. By the time we got back home, darkness had about fallen and GF had made all the necessary plans with her father. She still had some details to hammer out on Monday, so we still wouldn't see much of her then.

Monday was my brother's last day in town, so I set up another quickie tour of the city, starting with breakfast from the Fractured Prune. They were on the South Beach diet when the came up; now I'm not so sure anymore. It may have morped into the South Park Diet.

Our tour started in Hampden, since my brother wanted to see "something funky". The first thing I thought of was the flamingo in front of the Cafe Hon. We cruised the neighborhood a little bit and I pointed out a few details. (Try explaining the Miracle on 34th Street to someone when it's 80 degrees out.) From there we went down Falls Road to get into the downtown area. This is a great way to go if you're touring people around, since you spend so much time on a road that does NOT allow you to believe that you're so deeply within city limits. We stopped for lunch at Lexington Market, which is only "World Famous" on the signs out front. My brother had a sausage from Polock Johnny's, which he liked enough that I now have to bring a box of them down next time I visit.

From Lexington we headed past the Inner Harbor (since we'd already seen it), cruised through Little Italy and stopped in Fells Point for a bit. We poked though the stores and stopped into Maggie Moo's for some ice cream cones (yeah yeah, I know, Vaccaro's, but my S-I-L was insistent on this one: Waffle cone, butter pecan). MM's has ice cream that's flavored just like Twizzlers, by the way. My curiosity got the better of me and I had a taste. For what it's worth, it does taste just like Twizzlers, which is why I'd never get an entire cone full of the stuff. We also spent some time in Sound Garden, where I bought a T-Shirt, since I'd had a minor ice cream mishap, and at Ten Thousand Villages, where I picked up a couple of baubles. More on those in a near-future post.

Back in the car and we cruised through Highlandtown and grabbed I-95 to get home. On the way I stopped at a supermarket and picked up some fixin's to make crab cakes. May I say I did a fine job, especially for a non-native.

And then it was to the airport, but there's a new story in that and this post has been in draft for far too long.

Rockets' Red Glare

Rose: I had the strangest dream last night. I was at a baseball game. Charlie Brown was pitching, Shroeder was behind the plate, Lucy and Snoopy were in center field, and they wouldn't let me play. When I woke up, I was crying. What do you think it is?
Dorothy: Peanuts envy?

—The Golden Girls, "Cheaters" (3/23/90)

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My brother was in town this past weekend. He's only been here once before and we didn't get a lot of visiting time then, so he and I were both determined that he get a pretty good look at the Baltimore area.

We had tickets to the Orioles game on Friday, so we originally planned to hang around the harbor all afternoon. I realized, however, that even for a tourist that gets old quickly, so after emerging from the tunnel and jumping out onto Key Highway, our first stop was at Fort McHenry. We didn't go into the fort itself, but they got to hear the story of how Francis Scott Key was out in the harbor and saw that our flag was still there and was inspired to write "This Land is Your Land" as sung by drunken Brits. Or some such. He got a story, anyway, and was duly impressed.

From there we went down to Nick's Fish House in Port Covington for a bite to eat. GF and I basically had the same thing, except mine involved bread. S-I-L had a soft shell crab sandwich, and I say More Power To Her, since I'll pick a crab but I don't know about those soft shell jobbies. My brother, ever the brave one when it came to seafood, ordered a steak. I presume that this is the reason that we had to wait so long for our food, since in my experience they're not usually that slow. My guess is, they had to send someone out to the Safeway to get the steak. We ate on their outdoor deck and enjoyed the view and the breeze and such.

Our next stop was (finally) the Inner Harbor. We parked in that ground-level lot across the street and strolled the promenade from the Visitor Center to the Aquarium. On the way back we strolled through some of the shops so we could use the rest rooms and get something to drink. From there we walked up Conway Street to the stadium.

Our seats were in Section 47, which are pretty good seats although were were apparently in Pittsburgh Pirate Country that night. Had a few more Orioles fans shown up in our section, it might have been a little more endurable, especially since the first three innings of the game were nothing short of excruciating. By the end of three innings, the Pirates were ahead, 6-1. This game, by the way, was the first time the O's have played Pittsburgh since the 1979 World Series. Anyway, the O's woke up in the fourth inning and went on to win the game, 9-6. So it was pretty exciting all around. And, as we left the stadium, we were treated to a fireworks show that went for 15-20 minutes after the game. We stood on Conway Street and basked in the lights and the noise before heading back to the car.

So, quite coincidentally, my brother and his wife started their tour of Baltimore with the Rocket's Red Glare and Bombs Bursting in Air, and ended it the same way. Cool.

Parting Shots

Goober Pyle: You know that's not as stupid as it looks, readin' a day-old paper. I do it myself sometimes - kinda gives you a sense of power, don't it? I mean knowing how everything's gonna come out.

—The Andy Griffith Show, "Goober Goes to an Auto Show" (2/5/68)

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A couple of days ago an article appeared in the Baltimore Sun about the impending retirement of Harry Fogle.

Fogle is the leader of a team of state managers who were hired (at BCPSS expense, of course) to oversee special education in Baltimore City. Frankly, they were so far removed from the trenches that I'd be amazed if they had any idea what was actually going on in the schools themselves, "Learning Walks" notwithstanding.

There are two quotes in the article that struck me as a little odd. Here's the first (emphasis is mine):

Still, Fogle has some concerns about the implementation of Alonso's plan to decentralize school management and give more power to principals. He said the system has given principals high-quality training in their new responsibilities, but he's concerned about the amount of information they had to take in. "You can't put a gallon and a half in a gallon jug," he said.

Excuse me? Did he just say that the principals in Baltimore City are stupid? I think he did.

The other quote comes from Dr. Alonso, who notes that when he comes to special education, "We need to change how we do business in this area perhaps more than in any other, because the children are most vulnerable and some of the outcomes most recalcitrant."

Recalcitrant? Really? I'm not sure that word means what he thinks it does, since applying that word to outcomes rather anthropomorphizes them. In the end, though, I don't think it's appropriate to cite work problems as being resistant to authority.

There's also a dreadful metaphor about the Statue of Liberty, but i'll let it slide for now.

Slow Response, Quick Action

[Pee-wee is offering a $10,000 reward to whoever finds his bike]
Dottie: Pee-wee, how are you ever going to pay a reward like that?
Pee-wee: It's simple. Whoever returns the bike is obviously the person who stole it. So they don't deserve any reward!

—Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (1985)

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This morning I had an electrician to the house to finally take out the old fuses and put in circuit breakers. As a result of this, the power was out in the house. The good news is that we're in the 21^st century around here, so I have a cell phone with unlimited weekend minutes.

So I'm on the cell phone with my mother and as we're chitchatting, I look out my back window. Across the alley out back I see someone in my garage. At first, I thought it was B from next door, but as the guy steps out I realize it's not him. Some guy is taking stuff out of my garage!

He's a thin, older white man; appears to be in his sixties, unless time hasn't been especially kind to him. He's balding on top and has a salt & pepper fringe around the sides and back. He's wearing a white tank top, jeans and dirty work boots. He's got a bit of a limp, but behaves as though he's had it forever and has adapted to it by now.

Still chatting with mom, I step outside and start crossing the yard. Finally I get to the gate, ask my mother to hold and say to the guy, "Excuse me, where are you going with that?"

He tells me that he's taking it up to the corner, the guy in the black truck told him to take it to the corner. I tell him he's got the wrong garage. The guy insists: "He told me he'd give me $15 to bring this stuff up there." I say, "This is my garage. You need to put that stuff back, now." Finally I remember my mother and tell her there's someone stealing stuff from my garage and I have to call her back. I immediately dial 911. By now, of course, the guy is taking off, of course. The 911 operator is asking me all kinds of questions that the cops are going to ask anyway, so it's not like I'm able to run this guy down and talk to her at the same time. I'm walking with the phone in my hand up after him toward Harford Road (my place is a few doors down from Harford), but by the time I get there he's nowhere to be seen.

Then I get the bad feeling that this wasn't his first trip into the garage. I open the door and discover that I'm unfortunately right. The lawn mower is gone, my new bike is gone, a few other items are missing. Son of a bitch.

Despite calling in what is bascially a B&E in progress, the police take over a half-hour to get to the house. I go through the description again, catalog what's missing and so forth. While we're waiting for the report number to come back from the precinct, the officer gets a call that they may have caught the guy, and would I be willing to go identify the guy? Why, yes. Yes, I would.

So I get into the back of the police car and we ride away a few blocks and sure enough, it's the same fossilized piece of shit I saw outside the garage. Different shirt but the same guy. Now I have to go down to the police station and make a statement for the detective, which basically involves telling the entire story yet again. By now I've got it pretty solidly nailed.

Back to the house and the electrician is still working on the breaker box. There was a little hassle because he used to live in this neighborhood and he was pretty sure that our stove was gas, which unfShortly after he left, though, we discovered a problem with the power upstairs. I called him up and he came back and worked at the problem for a couple of hours. He's kind of baffled by what the specific problem might be, which is probably rooted in the fact that the wiring in this house was probably installed by Thomas Edison. Only time will tell, as they say.

So the bottom line is that my stuff is still gone at this point, but really, it's just STUFF, ya know? Although my yard is starting to look like a wheat field, so I guess I'm buying another lawn mower Monday evening.

A Local Legend Falls

—Wide World of Sports intro (ca. 1972)

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By now I'm sure you're aware of the news that sportscaster and Monkton resident Jim McKay has died at the age of 87. Curiously, the Sun reported the story without mentioning that he was once a reporter there. (Oops.) He gave up that job in 1947 to become THE first voice Baltimoreans ever heard on television, on WMAR.

UPDATE 6/9/08: They've finally caught on to their omission. I'm not saying that's because they saw something here, but I have no reason to think it isn't, so I'm just going to go ahead and take credit for it.

Although he was well-known among the Horsey Set in Maryland (He's the founder of Maryland Million Day), Jim McKay was perhaps best known for two things: host of ABC's Wide World of Sports and his coverage of twelve Olympic games. Most people joke that they usually tuned in to see the "agony of defeat" guy fall off the ski ramp, but the fact remains that in the days before there were eight thousand versions of ESPN and its like available, Wide World of Sports was the one place that people had to see athletic competitions that weren't local, weren't championship games and were unlikely to get any television coverage at all. You could argue (much as you do for ESPN nowadays) that the "sports" aspect of some of these events might be a little thin (Lumberjacking? Chess?), but the show's inclusiveness was part of its greatness.

McKay also distinguished himself by being television's point man during the Munich Olympic Games in the summer 1972. I remember this well because the Winter Games, in Sapporo, Japan, took place around the time of my birthday. My friend came to the house for a sleepover and my father put a TV in the bedroom so that we could stay up late and watch the games. As a result I had a lot of interest in the Olympics when the Summer Games came around.

About midway through the events, on September 5, Palestinian terrorists took 11 Israeli athletes hostage, demanding the release of prisoners in Israeli and Geman jails. 18 hours and an aborted rescue attempt later, it was over and the entire Israeli team was dead. That particular Olympics should have been marked by the athletic triumphs of Olga Korbut and Mark Spitz. It's unfortunate, but instead we usually remember it with the footage of McKay ending the drama:

"When I was a kid my father used to say our greatest hopes and our worst fears are seldom realized. Our worst fears have been realized tonight. They have now said there were eleven hostages; two were killed in their rooms yesterday morning, nine were killed at the airport tonight. They're all gone."

But even McKay, who thought that the subsequent 34-hour stoppage of the Games was a bit short, recognized that even though the Olympics, and sports in general, lost their innocence that day, he also saw that when you're out there Spanning the Globe, it's not just about Munich. And he helped us get back on track as the Games, and our lives, resumed.

So to you, Mr. McKay, I say thank you and goodbye.  

Outro to Wide World of Sports, 1982 

Stress Sucks

The Doctor: [while giving Janeway a quite vigorous massage] You work absurdly long hours under constant stress, eating on the run without sufficient exercise or rest. Your body is crying out for mercy.
Captain Janeway: [with a painful expression] It certainly is now.

—Star Trek: Voyager, "Scientific Method" (10/29/97)

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GF and I are both having a rather stressful week, each of us for different reasons. It's making us get all snappy at each other and that's never good. What's bugging me is that it's making me less able to compartmentalize myself, which is bad enough because it's been necessary for me to take work home lately. And I really dislike having to do that, but sometimes it can't be avoided. But when I'm carrying home work-related stuff along with the work itself, that's not a good situation.

There's a lot of work that will go into putting our Pig Roast together (on top of everything else we're dealing with), but that day will be fun, and we're certainly looking forward to the days off that will follow. Personally I'm hoping to set myself up with just one day where I get absolutely nothing done, before I have to return to work for the summer session.

And now, back to work. It's a little after midnight but I think I'll be done by 1:00.

Contributing Members of Society

The Penguin: [while being bombarded by food] Why is there always someone who brings eggs and tomatoes to a speech?

—Batman Returns (1992)

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Daughter is wrapping up her Junior year. She did respectably on her SAT this year but plans to take it again and see if she can't improve her score, she took the AP exam in English and she's in the home stretch for finals and Regents exams. (New York high schools have the regular final exam that the school issues, and the Regents exam, which the state issues. You don't have to pass the Regents to get a diploma--at least, you didn't have to before No Child Left Behind was passed--but having the Regents diploma is a step higher than your standard-issue diploma.)

I got in touch with her a couple of days ago to see if I could arrange for her to be down the weekend of the 14th, since my brother is coming up from Florida and all. She told me that she'd still be in school at that point, plus she got a job.

To which I replied, "Well, if you can afford to miss a day from school, or maybe we couldddddDDDDUUUUUUHHHWWWWHHHAAAT?"

Yes indeed. My daughter has gone over into the Land of Taxpaying CItizens. She's working as a cashier in a local fruit & vegetable market; one I rather liked shopping at when I lived up that way, although I haven't taken the time to pop in when I visit lately. (At left is a photo of the place when it was on fire back in 2002. I'm pretty sure they've cleaned up a little by now.) So between that, and the fact that she's likely to be taking Driver's Ed this summer, I don't know that I'm going to see a lot of her in the near future unless I take the time to visit Long Island and spend a few days up there. 

Yellojkt is the lucky one because he gets to watch a lot of this stuff up close and personal (plus it makes good blog fodder). Me, I'm a sideline viewer who has to get it when it's not exactly breaking news, and it's 200 miles away. I think this is one of the reasons it gets to me so much when The Sperm Donor Wee One's father pulls the kind of stunt he did last weekend. He doesn't live that far away; consequently he's pretty much squandering his kid's childhood. Early on, I was one of his biggest supporters and I tried to give GF the other side of the story, from the noncustodial parent perspective. But whatever I did, didn't seem to help any and it's pretty irritating that he wastes these opportunities to be with her.

I should make it clear that I do actually buy his story about last weekend. But it also seems to me that something--anything--happens, and he gives up too quickly. A weird noise in the car and the wind blowing the wrong way are equivalent in his head. And his judgment isn't the best, as evidenced by the time he wrapped up a visit a little early. They got to the house before we did, so he simply left Wee One on the doorstep with nobody at home. At least she had sense enough to go to the neighbor's and ask if she could stay there till we got in. Imagine our surprise when, as we returned from dinner, we passed her playing on the sidewalk a few doors down from the house.

Sometimes my frustration with this tomfoolery leaks through. One time Wee One called me on it, asking me "You don't like my dad, do you?" I replied, "I like him fine, but sometimes I don't respect him very much." Not the kindest thing to say but there's only so far you can go when you're whitewashing the truth.

If there's a theme emerging from the posts so far this week, that's merely coincidental. I think.