spot on the collar

I love that commercial. The one where the fellow is in an interview and the other man is listening to the SPOT on his shirt. Ain't it the truth?!
I sometimes wonder if the the theory is true that an oncoming train traveling over 60mph can create enough force in front of it that one is completely knocked unconcious before the impact. Whatabout jumping off a bridge?!!
Several years ago I had the unfortunate opportunity to view a newsreel of an attack against some villagers in one of those "poor little nations in Africa". The issue was Genocide. Now, can anyone out there describe to me his, or her thoughts on Genocide?!
As I watched this clip from the camera of of an English reporter I watched with amazed horror an attack on a woman on a street in public. She was brutalized and died slowly from a machette.
While I was in Nicaragua last year I was constantly reminded that that was the major killing device during their Rebel years. They wore them proudly as tools of course. The war was over. However, a machette is the viagra of the Nica people and they come in all sizes and shapes.
I had the honour of meeting a Nica warrior from the Revolution, Don Eloy. He was a little man, 75 yrs young with a 25 yr old mistress. Legend had it he killed over 45 men during those years. He brandished a machette that was nearly 3ft in length. And! I never wanted to piss him off. I could feel the legend was true.
Amazing.
Just thought I'd write something this morning. Trying to knock off some of the "blues" I'm feeling.

Insanity seems to be two steps behind me.
At the end of each day I look back to see where my footprints are.
John L

Cheech & Chong

I'm going to skip two people for this next blog, because I received a call from my friend (whom this blog is about) several days ago and was reminded of the impact and influence he had on my life as well.

I knew "KJ" prior to really meeting him. It was HSchool and we were a year apart. Somewhere ( I don't remember) we connected. To describe his character is something like, uh,..scrambled eggs with a side order of hash browns; It looks funky, but tastes damned good with a Hangover!

I am going to begin with this,; "If anyone reading this blog is not over the age of 21 don't read it. If you are too Pious in your life that your undergarments ride up your asscrack don't read this blog. If you are judgemental to the extreme that you think God is an excuse for mankind's woes and ills, don't read it. However! If you are open minded, forgiving, caring, understanding, free spirited and enjoy a good laugh,..com'n in!"

I really began to befriend KJ when we worked a summer at Simplicity Pattern, here in Niles. It was a factory. Probably one of the better factories a "college bound kid" could start from. I found him to be quite imposing at first; very opinionated, but with a degree of selflearned intelligence. He was in appearance, a "country-bumpkin", lanky, walked with that kinda half-shuffle, half "Im coming" attitude. Never in a hurry, never one to judge. I guess I liked him, because of his insight, his passion for what is right vs wrong, but most of all, his "free-spirit".

As I may have said in a past blog my parents were conservative, never allowed me to wear jeans until the day I graduated from HSchool upon which I bought a pair of Levi-buttonfly, hip huggin', bell-bottomed jeans and wore them to my graduation. Mind you, they were neatly pressed by my mother who was against the idea, but respected her son managed to graduate.

So, when I met KJ my style began to change with my philosphy on life. I owned slax and dress shirts (GONE!), my jean collection began to grow w/ the addition of "patches". Anybody remember patches on their jeans?

I began to evolve into my "Hippie" Era. Very much so. VietNam had ended and a new war was brewing inside our own country, a civil-war amongst the Races and the Hippies were at the forefront of Social Change.

It was a magical and frightening time. There were so many groups dedicated to this war that it would make one's head spin, especially our parents whom had just settled into their laid-back lifestyles from postwars (WW2, Korea, Nam). There were groups dedicated to change and peace. Black Panthers, Yippies, Hari-Krishnas (white people of all things, wealthy kids with nothing to do, turned beggars), the SDS (Students for a Democratic Society) they were as radical if not more than the Black Panthers (met a few of them, scared the b'jeezuz oughta me)! Jesus Freaks. Then there were the Hippies. My cup o' tea! We were for peace and love and music and,...Pot. Oh, boy! I never inhaled!!!

KJ was a Hippie and I joined the Cause. I really believed in the doctrine that all Men and Women should be treated as equals. Color was not in the formula! To this day my favorite song was written by the true Guru of Peace, John Lennon, "Imagine". If you haven't, listen to it. Honestly, dear Readers, I can cry when I listen to it. It's the deeper side of John Lidecker (Buffett is the brighter side). KJ and I went to rallies, concerts, meetings and tried our damnest to do whatever we could to help.

***I need to put this in even though KJ was not there; when VietNam fell there was the "Airlift". A mass exodus of Vietnamese were allowed to leave their homes and come to America and any other country that would take them in. They left in fear that their government would bring reciprocities against them for helping the Americans. In reality (why I rallied against the war, the Vietnamese people just wanted their OWN country back! They were tired of foreigners taking their country away from them and treating their people like crap! Read the true history. It became our war when the Frenchies got their asses massacred at Dien Bien Phu). I got to see a part of that history when my friend called me to take me to Chicago's OHare to see the planes coming in from the airlift. I was in awe. I saw people getting off the plane with expressions of emotion so varied it was unbeleivable. I saw families who had endured years of pain, death and fear whom left homes, jobs and families. They were penniless, scared, scarred and some couldn't speak english. But, they were safe and ready to start anew. One of the girls in our group began to cry, "fu..... great!" We all did! It was too moving for words and we said nothing to one another the entire trip back to Niles....sorry, I digressed. my bad!

Anyway, I left for IUSB to study Art. Started great! Tough, long hours, but the professors were intense! After a year I couldn't afford it anymore and needed options I could afford(as I said before, my father was not contributing for the education of "faggotry"). So, my second option was SMC, Southwestern Michigan College. It was perfect, really. The teachers were into what they were teaching, some of them inconspicuous hipppies themselves. The Art department was open for me! I was actually helping teach some of the students and working one-on-one with the teachers (they were learning from me and I from them). KJ was taking classes also at SMC. As the group the Eagles opens one of their songs with, "and here's where it all began...."

KJ and I were quite into our classes. The Hippie thing began to wear off. classes were long and we decided to share rides to the campus each day. But then, me, a kid growing up with so many restrictions brought on by an overdomineering mother, was easily influenced by the "counter-culture". Drugs, sex and RocknRoll. KJ and I were eager to join. Country Boys, you can't take their lassos off!

As I said before, if you are easily offended turn off the TV NOW!

KJ and I shared classes as I said before, so it only made sense for us to share rides. We worked our schedules out to where they were favorable to us. Influences began to creep in. The easiest was A L C O H O L. Even today, it's Michigan's largest industry. KJ and I began to use our lunch breaks with a burger and a beer at one of the local pubs in Dowagiac. After claasses we'd join the Art Dep't at another pub and drink into the wee hours. When yer in yer early 20's, yer Immortal.

Now, I will admit, "how childish, immature, irresponsible, etc." I could go on. But, I'm going to focus on the funny parts and overlook the missed opportunities had I really applied myself. Unfortunately for me, STOOPID is part of my chemistry. Would I change that part of my life if I had the chance?! yes. But, some things happen from irresponsiblity that make some people rich. Not me.

It was a winter morning and my turn to drive. Between KJ and myself we had 6-7 vehicles that if one wouldn't start, we'd take our plates and put on the other (back then we could get a "Beater" for less than a hundred bucks). I had a '66 VW that took an hour to heat up, thank God gas was 25cents a gal!! He called me at 6 am (our Psych class was at 8) said his father was called to work early and said he'd made breakfast. I drove over expecting eggs and coffee. Instead, he'd robbed the liquor cabinet and breakfast were two 16oz cocktails w/out the gravy! At 6:30 we were drinking breakfast. The snows outside were hard. Blizzard quality. But, country boys, DRUNK country boys were used to it. Off in my VW we went with said breafast in a thermos to keep it cold. We rounded a turn in the road, snow coming down so hard my windshield wipers were caked with it! As I entered the the second curve the VW kept going straight. In unison we both shouted, "OHSHIT!!" I floored the VW, snow was flying over the hood and visibility was, well, white. We were the first snowmobile out that morning with 4 tires and two drunk Hippies ready to piss our patched jeans (mine meticulously pressed by my mother the night before), and yes, we both lived with our parents at that time. The VW skated over the snow and back onto the road. I stopped the car and we both looked at each other in amazement...and had a stiff drink from the thermos. We got out of the car and looked at the path behind us. We'd traversed a two foot gauntlet of snow narrowly hitting a tree and some kinda farm implement and began laughing from the crazy experience. After cleaning the snow off the windshield and another swig from the thermos we continued our journey to Psych Class.

There has to be nothing more challenging in life than "reputation". Be it good, or bad, notoriety follows and sometimes a label. Fortunately, for KJ and I we wore it both ways. We were to our teachers an anomaly (we'd do the work, pass the tests, impress them with our views of society and social mores), to the students we were "Cheech & Chong" (I'll get back to that, but first). We entered our 8am Psych class at 8:40. Cold, wet from melting snow and...sorry to say, drunk. With the glare from the Professor we scurried clumsily to the back of the class. KJ, always one to be the center of attention rolled out of his chair, onto the floor. This of course brought a roar of laughter from the classroom, except the Prof. No, he was pissed. And rightly so. Two bumbling drunkards entering his class, he had all the right to have us expelled from class. Our saving grace? He liked us. Actually, I received A's from his class, because he enjoyed my arguments of social structures and systems with caste societies. I compared ours in a thesis to him which I think he enjoyed, but gave me a C, it scared him. Rocked his view of HIS world and glimpsed into the future of mine.

It seems KJ and I bonded for recreational purposes. Boys jus' wanna have fun! Immortal young men!!! Never hard drugs, recreational, but a lot of beer and wine. CHEEP wine! Which brings me to this episode. It was an early Spring day. Winter's intolerable cruelty had passed and leaves were coming back to embue the earth with it's majesty of "new life". ...?...did i just say that?! KJ and I took advantage of our hour break until our next class, Ceramics. Ceramics was cool. The teacher was a young woman who appreciated Avant Gard ideas. Needless to say some of the students were taking advantage of that to experiment fashioning inconspicuous "one hitters" and porcelain "Bongs". Anyway, KJ and I thought this day was to be celebrated by travelling the backroads of natures beauty. I had my VW with a sunroof which immediately was opened to massive rays of sunlight. However, something was missing..."Why, yes! A L C O H O L!" "To the liquor store, my trusty steed!" Whereupon we proceeded to purchase two bottles of Annie Green Springs finest!

Ahh! Backroads with the Allman Brothers blasting from the 8track and cheep wine. Ya, know, a sunroof in a Volkswagon is quite the item, especially when sitting atop the roof, steering with your feet (3rd gear is THE BEST!) drinking a tart, sweet beverage and soaking up the Spring sunshine. KJ says, "What you think? Another bottle?" ...Duh! Another trip to the proprietor of fine exquisite wines for less and we walk away with a bottle of Boone's Farm and, "Hey! Let's try this one." Manishevitz. Yes, dear Readers, this is why there is a Jewish Nation. To our chagrin we were late for class and drove immediately there to apologise and express our reasons for tardiness. We then excused ourselves back to the VW to finish our Manishevitz.

Ya, know. People put up with a lot of shit thinking, "Oh, that's just their Artistic side expressing itself." No, that's IRRESPONSIBILTY!!! That's two guys with too much time and no focus!! Even though I was getting straight A's in art and my German classes. I remember KJ and I walking back into the Ceramics class, stumbling really. KJ went somewhere and I wanted to work. I sat at the potter's wheel with a lump of clay. These were the kind you kick the wheel, no electricity. I threw my clay on the wheel and kicked furiously for the monetum to build. Let me add at this time that water is a necessary ingredient to "working" the clay. When I placed my hands on the dry lump I shot like a rocket to the floor! Immediately I sprang to my feet listening to the laughter of classmates and realized I needed to rid myself of the toxins in my body! I bolted for the door and ran outside for a spot to release the waters of evil. AH!! KJ!! He, too shared the same thought. As we lay prone several feet from the road, in sandburs wretching our guts out we were amazed at the purple colored liquid in the sand. After several minutes two classmates came to our rescue fearing a car might run over us and took us inside. I ran for the bathroom! As I curled against the cold porcelain bowl a classmate came in grabbed me by my hair (it was slightly longer than shoulder length and as he pulled my head back, "Manishevitz?!", he asked. "How did you know?!!" ....my white TShirt had a purple streak from my neck to my belt. To this day dear Readers, if it don't come from Napa, or a Michigan Winery, I don't drink it.

The Cheech & Chong act came about unexpectedly. KJ and I had began to mimick speaking like Chicanos before we ever heard of Cheech & Chong. It became a part of us I guess, because we were two unemployed, full time college boys with too much time. Our "act" so to speak even gave us an opportunity to join a comedy team, but were turned down when they asked us to cleanup the language a bit. ...no, that wouldn't be US. Buh-Bye Oppportunity.

KJ and I had met many people from different backgrounds, but one in particular was DAVE. Dave was a Thalydmide experiment. His mother took the drug in the 5o's that gave some women deformed babies. Dave had no legs (flippers) one arm with a thumb and two fingers and the other arm was a flipper. Dave could play guitar, piano and fly a plane. He could walk with a pair of prosthetic legs and had a mechanical arm that could crush anything in it's grip. He also had a sense of humor. As summer came about and we were on break from college, KJ, Dave, myself and another friend decided to go to Lk Michigan for the day. Of course, wine and beer was our picnic basket. Dave could walk upright, but not on sand. Discarding his mechanics he used his one arm to get himself to the beach. Quite a thing to see! He propelled himself in a fashion that resembled an ape. Anyway, several hours later we all awoke from our drunken stupor to return back to the car. Dave was incapable of moving across the sand so we placed him inside our blanket and dragged him. Dave has a sense of humor. Did I mention that before?! As we were about to crest a small dune there was a family coming over the top. Mom, Dad and two small children. I looked at Dave in the blanket and said, "Dave, play along!" As we were dragging the blanket with the unnoticeable lump inside I started yelling for help!! The family, curious as to my rantings and pleas came running toward us. At that point Dave rolled out of the blanket and started thrashing about in the sand! I said, "Something's in the water and attacked our friend!!" I swear there were several inches of air under everyone's feet in that family! I didn't realise the impact our joke would play. I hope counseling has helped that poor family.

There were many episodes I could write about KJ and myself, but it would make a small book and I'm not dedicating that much time to it. I will end this with the virtues of my relationship with KJ. Even though I spoke of alcohol ALOT there was something KJ had that astounds me to this day. His ability to see the future! Actually, it was foresight.

He once told me as we were standing line at a convenience store that someday in order to expedite "checkout" a laser scanner would do the work (we're talking early 70's dear Readers). He also said that money would become a thing of the past and we'd use cards, like credit cards. He was fearful and respecting of Big Brother. And he works with them to this day.

His imagination and zest for life, his sometime opinionated zeal, his creativity and ability to fix a car (very important when you're on a budget in college) earned my respect. His sometime harsh honesty, but love for his fellow being captivated and helped me understand another faction of this world of ours.

He once told me that at the moment of his death, right before breathed his last breath, he would concentrate on the Universe. He wanted to believe that he would be able to use his soul to explore the Universe looking for new planets and the possibility of life on other worlds. I find that very profound.

I hope your quest has not changed, my friend. We've been tempered by the years and I thank my lucky stars that I am now returning to my past to recapture that zest for living and my Art!

Thank you, KJ!

Working on it

Ran 10 miles yesterday. Not bad for a 55 yr old dude w/ asthma, high blood pressure and a heart muu-muu.

Then I had planned on staying at home (yes, i still live there..) until my friend "Barney" called.

There went my 10 mi run.

Running is good for my soul. The freedom of locomotion. The weather of course, is changing, becoming cooler which affects my astma (must remember to get a new inhaler). This time of year however, the colors of the trees, the intense blue of the sky, it's awesome!. I run into the countryside. Sometimes where I grew up. Brings back memories.

Oh, well, just a short blog today, 'cause tonight I WILL write about the next influential person in my life. I am skipping two others momentarily, because my friend called me the other day "out of the blue". I was reminded of the times we had which I definitely have to write about.

If I have offended some of you with my postings, I apologise. I must say that there will be things in the future that I shall write which may become more offensive to some. To that I say, "turn off the TV". This blogsite is my story, my life. It's an interpretaion of the World's most "Unfamous" Artist. It is an epitaph to my life and in turn I read it myself to figure out what the heck, and where do I go from here?! It is a "Chronological History of the Artist". Should I die tomorrow not having completed my works of art, this blogsite will explain how one person at least tried (late in life) to fullfil his dreams, desires and passions and the most definite reasons why some of it did not culminate.

It is the other side of John Lidecker that most of you never met. I'm the "fun guy", the "drunken sot artist", the "push-over"....I could go on, that most of you know. There are the few that know the other side, the serious, the knowledge seeking, the naive, the passionate.

So, it is with this blogsite that I tell my story of my life. As I said in an earlier blog, to quote one of my favourite musicians, "Some of it's tragic, most of it magic..."

Peace.

If I were President

IF I WERE PREZ, I'D;

MAKE XANAX A NAT'L SOFT DRINK

I'D HAVE CHIMPANZEES SHIT ON MY LAWN

I'D HAVE SEX WITH A BLOWUP DOLL AND TELL HER "YES, IT WAS GOOD!"

I'D MOVE

I'D TRY TO THINK OF ALL THE WOMEN I'VE WANTED TO HAVE SEX WITH

I'D DRINK MORE SOY MILK

I'D KILL THE SOYCOW

I'D MAKE THE NAT'L DEBT DISAPPEAR LIKE DUST OUT MY ASS

(then I'd take residuals and buy an island off the the coast of Shiitscreaminoutmyasshole)

I'D SCREW THE V-PREZ IF SHE HAD A BEAVER (then brag)

I'D BUY A PIECE OF SHIT REALESTATE IN A TRAILER PARK IN NILES

I'D GOLF ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL DAY

I'D BUY MY GRAND KIDS A MERCEDES w/ A DRIVER

I'D ALSO TELL THEM IT WAS, "short term".

I'D SPEND THE DAY WITH MY BEST FRIENDS

I'D SHOW EVERYONE MY PIERCED NIPPLE AND BE PROUD

I'D GO TO THE UN AND TELL EVERYONE THAT "XANAX" IS NOW A WORLDWIDE SOFTDRINK

I'D RESSURECT MY PARENTS FROM THE DEAD SO THEY COULD SEE FOR THEMSELVES

I'D MAX MY CREDIT CARDS

I'D EAT A TWOlb STEAK

I'D VISIT SOMEONE ON DEATH ROW

I'D FIND OUT WHY WE DON'T HAVE A CURE FOR CANCER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'D FIND OUT WHY SOMEONE, OR SOMETHING DOESN'T LET US HAVE THAT CURE!

I'D TRACK THEM DOWN AND SUE THEM AND THEIR OFFSPRING FOR THE NXT 30GEN

I'D GET RID OF NURSING HOMES AND TELL THE KIDS TO BE RESPONSIBLE

I'D TELL MY SONS, "I LOVE YOU" MORE THAN I PRESENTLY DO

I'D TELL THE WORLD, "WE AIN'T RESPONSIBLE FO' YO' ASS ANYMORE!"

but we know, that ain't gonna happn.

Peace!

Close Encounters of the Weird Kind

Ya know, basically, I had a good childhood. I had an overwhelming mother, but I assume it was due to my health issues as a child. It sucked having Asthma, it sucked being anemic, it sucked having ear infections that persisted a good portion of my young life.

So, when I wanted to do something with friends there were always restrictions. That's why I loved jumping into bales of hay and running free in the midwestern countryside wheezing and gasping for air. Ah, sweet freedom!

It was a magical period of life. Exploring woods, shooting BB guns, hell!, shooting shotguns with magnum shells that could knock a kid on his ass.

Living in the country was great, but limited to how many friends one could have depending on your geo'locale.

I guess that's when I started to foster my creative side which had an impact on how I would later choose my friends.

I met "D" in our home room in middle school. He was to say the least, weird. He was totally into something else of a more intellectual level. Of course, he and I and Lawrence were all three "different". Each complimenting the other.

It wasn't until my HSchool years that our friendship actually bonded and we became our "own clique".

"D" was interested in the sciences, Lawrence in electricity, me, well, insurance. The kind of insurance a small skinny kid in HS needs, basically, big friends. Trust me HS was one place I did not want to be. There were the Jocks that enjoyed the torment. I remember many a trash can and locker and toilet. It's kinda good to know that I can outrun most of them today at 55.

Back to "D"...

We "hung out" as a group. There were quite a few of us "misfits" that felt easy in the company of one another.

As I mentioned in my blog of Lawrence, it was "D" who was the "brainiac" in our little rock band. It was "D" who came up with the name of our band The Pyloric Valves. It was "D" who named the song Intestinal Trek. And it was "D" who saw our band going nowhere. We had fun, but sisters don't make good groupies.

After graduation "D" and I lost touch, but still mantained a friendship. It was 1971, Nam was in the picture, social movements were the issues and there was the infamous, "Jesus Freak" train which "D" got on board.

Mind you, I'm not of any denomination and don't wish to be, I figure we all die the same and whatever happens, happens. My epitaph will read; "Don't know where I came from, don't know where I'm going". I'm not opposed to religion and I try to think of myself as a "spiritual" kinda guy in the sense that I believe life is more special, mysterious and multidimensional than any words, or thoughts could ever concieve. If I don't know, who should know better?!! Eh?

"D" joined the masses and started his church. It almost seemed he had changed overnight from the "arguing against the existence of God" to the complete opposite. And I have to say (sorry "D") it was unbearable. He was constantly trying to get me to join. The harder he tried the more I avoided him.

So, you're probably wanting to know how he was one of the influences in my life?!

He piqued MY intelectual side. He was and is without a doubt one of the few people in my life that knows something about everything. I kid you not. "D" is one of those individuals who constantly asks questions. Never afraid to delve into areas of the mind, sciences, life, etc.

The other redeeming quality about him is his giving nature and his concern for his friends and family.

He has tempered from the years. His mind is still asking questions and his faith guides his path in life. To this day we remain best of friends and regard each other with the respect of brothers.

I enjoy the conversations I can have with he and a few that I can't with others (no disrespect intended). We don't talk politics, but we talk science, the arts and issues more closely related to the human species than a couple "puppet" politicians could muster.

And I can say he cooks a "good" steak.

It is nice to grow older with good friends in which life is momentarily comfortable with a good single malt scotch and a good cigar.

Now that's livin'!!!

Take care my friend. We'll see each other soon.

Love Ya!

Bitch Session #23A

Just got back from my run. tomorrow it's a visit with my new best friend The Cardiologist. I won't stop running. I've been running for 40 of my 55 years. I think it's what has helped me through times when rough sailing made the waves crash over my bow.

It's also when I take time to think. It's My Time.

I reflect about my future, present and past.

The past is what it is.

The present is, well, my bad, Limbo.

And the future is,..uncertain.

There are things I want to do and I'm not doing them!

I know what it is and it's my fault.

My Art is what is most important to me right now and it's NOT happening.

My mother told me some years back of an opportunity my father had when he was employed by Bendix Corporation in So. Bend, In.

Seems he was a fledgling engineer with something most employees there at the time lacked a bit of; common sense married with creativity.

As my mother put it the company saw potential in my father, so much so they offered him a position at their facility in Brasil. No, not Brazil, Indiana, Brasil, So. America.

Villa, servants, private schools,..............

My mother?? "I'm not moving where there's snakes and Indians." True to her southern roots.

So, opportunity was there and my father gave it up for family and his wife. I'm shaking my head right now.

So, here I am at 55 years of age running my ass off (literally my pants sag, OH God!!) and trying to obtain my Opportunity. I know what my friend Barney is saying, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, quit'cher bitchin'." He's right.

Beautiful day today. Leaves are turning. Great for running.

Tonite, I'll introduce you, dear readers, to my 3rd influence.

Sorry, just had to vent. Beats painting graffiti on walls.

Is it me?

Some things in life are truly awe inspiring. For instance, watching a cool sunset, walks in the park, cruisin; in my ride....oh, god, I've got to cut back on the Mc Donalds double cheeseburger, the hormone injected beef is taking effect.
What is really awesome and perplexing at the same time is, rather, are cords, hoses, ropes and anything else that falls into that category of "what the f...?!"
It's like. I dunno know, "I rolled it up; I wrapped the cord back on the sweeper; I put the hoses back on the hose rack..."
But, here's the situation.
I get the cord out, or the hose and there's a knot. A KNOT!! HOW?!!! And, if you start to untangle rope,..well, there's more knots!!
I don't get it.
By the way, crude oil is down to $77 a barrel. That's $60 down from two months ago. And people are flocking to the pumps again!!
"WOW! $3 a gal!"
must be the knots.........

By the way, I'll be writing about another person tomorrow. gotta build some signs today.

Okay. This has got to stop!!!!

Dear Readers,

whatever happened to good ol' common sense and responsibility?! hmmmn? I can't figure it out anymore. Case in point; as I was doing my daily run I crossed Main St Bridge in town (Niles). Okay. I have mentioned to others around town about the tree growing "out of the bridge". View the pic. However, this evening as I was running across the bridge, bemused by the tree, I noticed..."AhHa!! What is this?!" ....no, "What is THAT?!!!" Immediately I curled into a fetal position holding my stomach and convulsing in a bastion of laughter!! "This is it!! Enough!! I must call someone...hmm, who else would appreciate this degradation to our humble bridge?" "Ah, my friend Todd Keller!" "We share a common bond of the mundane."

A cellphone is an incredible device. I remember as a kid we only had "makebelieve" toys that didn't EVEN COME CLOSE to our modern day toys!!

I called Todd and he came immediately to the bridge. "Yep, that's a trowel (what he called it eludes me momentarily, but he described it as such). They use them for smoothing concrete".

Alright. Somebody just tell me why an IDIOT is working on a bridge? An IDIOT so stoopid as to leave his trowel embedded in the concrete wall of a bridge?!! Evidently he wasn't hired for his workmanship. Could it be?!! Maybe he was hired, because the person whom contracted the crew to repair the bridge did what??!! HIRED THE LOWEST BIDDER!!!YES!! Somebody give me a Star to put on my fridge!! "I feel giddy". not like that, you dolts!

Can somebody respond and tell me What is Happening? Pleez??

By the way, should you wish to respond to these blogs and seem unable to..email me. lidecker@aol.com

SEE YA!!?

Maybe he should've buried it deeper so the concrete wouldn't have POPPED off like that. Naw, what the hell. If you're a moron there's no other way to screwup!!! You Rock, Moron Dude!!!

Adam Bomb aka: Lawrence of A'Maniac

I have to say without a doubt, my life has been a most interesting one. But, if it were not for the company I seek and hang with,...well, just shoot me, 'cause it would've been mundane. There're a lot more crazies out there to hang with, too.

It was the late 60's when I met him. We shared the same home room in High School. As I said in my previous blog bein' a country kid was tough. And those of you who are from Niles might think otherwise, or not. So, what does one do?! Look for someone to be your friend RIGHT AWAY!!!

I noticed immediately there was something different about him. It was the way he looked at me. No. His eyes weren't fluttering....pervs. It was, well, one eye would look at you and the other, well, it was looking a little left of you. I knew right away I needed to be his friend.

You see, I just didn't "fit in" with the rest of the kids. I wasn't a jock. We certainly were not a family of wealth and...I just couldn't accept the fact that life had to follow a certain path. I dunno how to splain. Back then most of my friends had graduated to a level of "strangeness". I needed that.

So, here was Lawrence. Different and totally insane. F'rinstance. His father owned a 53' 4 wheeled barge that sucked about 7 miles to the gallon. Course, back then gas was less than 25cents a gallon. Can you imagine?!! Anyway, that 53' could travel a 100 miles an hour and you felt like you were riding on a cloud. It became a totally different thing however, when "L" would let go of the steering wheel and just recline. WE WERE 16 YEARS OLD!!! Stoopidity is not part of the visage of Immortality.

But, that wasn't enough; "L" would make me drive das boot and at 100 mph he would climb out the window and stand on the hood of the car! In winter it became our snowplow. Blizzards were "our cup 'o tea". We'd tie a sled to a rope and the bumper of the 53' and cruise backroads. I remember travelling down a country road one night (yes, night. it was against the law......shhh) and "L" had the wheel to the barge. We were going about 65mph (we would call out the speed to let you know how fast you were travelling before you crashed and burned) when all of a sudden the snowpacked road turned to bumpy ice. I remember trying yell, stop, but the impact of my back to the rutted ice made me sound like I was huffing Helium. "L" of course didn't realise I had fallen off the sled until it overtook him on a turn and noticed "it" was solo.

When he returned I tried to mouth a few words, the impact had not only knocked my breath away, but also knocked one of my boots off. But, that wasn't the only thing. A dog had come from a nearby farm to checkout the commotion. After licking my face with globs of dogglop he'd noticed the lone boot. "AHA!" "PLAYTOY!!!!" Bye boot.

Anyway, daredevil escapades gave way to night trips. I mean, like "L" would knock on my bedroom window at midnight and say, "C'mon!" And we'd cruise. There was one particular night however that left an impression on me I can still remember as clearly as the weekend it happened.

"L" came over at midnight on a Friday...same o', same o'. So I thought. But this time there was something different. Something different about him. We didn't talk much, but we drove into the night. Little did I know things were going to happen in such a fashion that it changed my perspective on life and it's fragility. We drove, my friends. We drove. By the time we'd stopped we were in Detroit's Metro Airport. It was mid morning and "L" had this look of charged energy that I'd never noticed. And then the PA in the airport paged Ike and Tina Turner. That wasn't all of it though! As we raced with the crowds I accidentally ran into someone while looking elsewhere. As I stopped to apologise I noticed the man with long hair and dark sunglasses looked familiar. He said" Sorry, my fault." "L" just stood there, jaw open, not able to speak. It was Jim Morrison. Yes, people, I ran (literally) into a Door!!!!! "L" was mesmerized. I was like, "who?!" (My parents were very conservative. Lawrence Welk was on the TV).

We left Detroit Metro and continued east. I never questioned "L", or his motives. Heck, after that what else could happen? Something else did, though. We crossed into Canada after losing our way through Detroit. Followed the coastline of Lake Erie into the night until we could no longer stay awake. I remember Point Pelee, the sign said. We parked and fell into a deep sleep.

The rap on the window scared the crap out of both of us! A Mountie. He said the park was closed, but would give us break for the night. Good dude.

I woke the next morning and "L" was not in the car. I got out and walked down to the beach of Lake Erie. He was standing there looking into the distance, the American side of the Lake. I then knew why we'd come this far. The horizon was a dark cloud. Not a thundercloud, but one of smoke. The Lake caught fire that year and we were there to see it burn.

Our senior year in high school was just as fun and maniacal as the years before. As with most young people back then we'd concocted this idea we wanted to be Rock Stars. Our group was comprised of 3 of us and our band name after much thought and the third member being the "brainiac" he was and is, named us, The Pyloric Valves. Look it up in your medical dictionaries. I'm going to let you do some of the work here, too.

After being shot down for so many auditions we finally called it quits. We did manage to copyright a song which is probably in some dusty, dank shelf in the copyright office. It was called "Intestinal trek". that should give you a clue to the band name.

Graduation gave way to summer jobs and college. I on the other hand had to work longer and save for my entire tuition, because my father didn't want to pay for an Artist in the family. (Artists are fags). Thanks Dad!

"L" went to one of the local colleges and then to Western Michigan Univ. I enjoyed going up on the weekends to visit with, because I could was able to sit in with him on his midnight shows. "L" was a campus DJ with the radio name....Adam Bomb! It was awesome! Chicks were calling, people were buying us pizzas, he was a celebrity on campus.

But the candle began to burn out. "L's" girlfriend ran off with the Domino's Pizza guy and he went into a spiral of depression. I remember our last night together before he left. We'd been partying into the wee hours and he was giving me a ride home. I kinda dozed off for a moment and then was startled awake by crashing noises. "L" was travelling over 120mph and running into mailboxes!!! "Shit, Man! I don't want to die with you!" I said.

A month later I received a postcard from him. He'd travelled to Arizona and stayed with some relatives then headed to Texas. His car was nearly swallowed by the Gulf of Mexico as he sat alone on a beach. He'd noticed the tide rising and decided to move his car. Had it not been for the Texan with the four wheel drive it no doubt would become a shallow reef.

Years passed and the letters grew thin. I caught the occassional window washer for skyscrapers in downtown Houston. The microwave tower repairman for the "Free Cuba"radio stations. And then silence. For nearly 20 years.

As I was sitting at home one night early this summer the phone rang. Lisa, my wife answered and then handed the headset to me. It was "L". And he was in the area. He'd left Houston to come home and get a job. I was excited to see him! We could catch up on ol' times......

When I saw him I hugged him. But, I was shocked to see he had fallen victim to hard times. REAL HARD times. He was homeless, penniless, jobless. It hurt to see him that way. There was nothing I could to do help. Money, was short-term. He needed a job. But, as I told him, "We're too old, man!" "The job market wants young people, not 50 somethings." He wouldn't accept it. At least until he was beaten by the odds and the hard truth. I told him he had to find the strength inside to do it alone. And it is "alone", my friends. In the past 5 years I have submitted online and in person over 1,000 applications! Seriously, it's freakin' scary!!! Had I known what was in store for me earlier (before the "you gotta go" thing) I would've accepted several positions that were offered to me. But, that meant moving and the wife, she "wasn't leaving her job". Can't say as I blame her. At the time I stayed for family...........................whatever....

Back to "L".

He was gone toward the end of the summer. Tired of living in run down hotel rooms and tired of begging for money for food and gas. A month ago I received a postcard of Colorado on it. He was in Idaho (I know, Colo., Idaho...he's just that way). He, too, has a blogsite and it reminds me of the friend I knew a long time ago. Talent! He's crazy in a very talented way. I'll give the blogsite after this summary.

"L" was definitey an impact in my life. Maybe he was the one who opened that door to "mayhem" and shoved me in.

his blog: wakinguphorny.blogspot.com

It's funny, sad but creative.

I hope all is well with you my friend. I wish it was different and I miss you.

We had a helluva ride!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In The Beginning

I grew up in the countryside north of Niles, Michigan. I have to say it was wonderful to be able to move about so freely in the fields and woods, pastures and skinny-dipping in the farmers irrigation ponds.
I attended a "country school". It was first to sixth grades and some of my most memorable times came about because of some of the teachers and especially the students.
I moved to that school starting the third grade. I was an outsider. We moved from a lakeside community outside of Niles into a country home. Being an outsider proved to be a challenge.
My first day I was beaten by two boys from the demands of a girl whom I didn't even know.
It was tough at first. Tough, because I had a lot of odds against me. The two worst; I was the smallest boy in my grade and I had asthma. For anybody out there who grew up without the convenience of an inhaler, you can understand. I lived with death at my door practically every time I had a bout. Back then the Doc gave us pills. But then you had to wait for the pills to take effect which could be up to 20min, or more.
No fun at all.
But, it was also when I met my new "best friend". I will call him Sgt. Rock for the sake of anonimity.
He lived on a farm with a 40 acre playground! It was AWESOME!! At the age of 8 I learned to drive a tractor, shoot guns and play in haystacks. The haystacks nearly killed me when I found out they could trigger an asthma attack. Much to my parents disagreement I did it anyway.
They had cows. I ate fresh butter and fresh milk. I ate fresh beef and vegetables and eggs....JEEZUZ!! What happened?! My kids have NO idea of what that tastes like.
Sgt. Rock was a free spirit. The countryside festered that in most.
Also, living in the country breeds a lot of imagination for a child. Basically, there's not much to do and your closest friend might live several miles away.
Sgt. Rock was a leader. He was no doubt the biggest influence in my life at that time.
As kids growing up in the 60's we were curious about the state of affairs happening in the world. The cold War gave us goosebumps. And yes, I do remember preparing for a nuclear attack meant crawling under your desk at school. It was also the time of the "Cultural Revolution". But, as country kids we came from some very conservative, yet understanding parents.
The Sgt. saw this as a time to be creative. Easy Rider was in the theatres and Hells Angels were the Rebels of the times. So, what do a group of boys with bicycles with banana seats, high rise handlebars and "sissybars" do?!! They form their own "motorcycle gang" (we had to make the sounds for the bikes though). As I said, the Sgt. was a free spirit and also the Leader of our pack. We wanted to be like the Hell's Angels; rebels, free-spirited and ready to go to VietNam to "kick sum ass"!
We had a pack of about 7 kids. In our minds we were the toughest SOB's on the planet! Except for the time the Sgt. ramped his bike into the air which looked REALLY cool until he came back to earth the wrong way! Yes, my friends, the Sgt. was cryin' like a baby After he caught his breath, After he barred his Balls on the bike. We ROCKED!!!
I can't remember the name of our gang, but we had Colors. We decorated our vests with MC WHATEVER it was....
But you know, some parents can be cruel without realizing what they do to their children's mental growth at times. You see, dear Readers, I had the misfortune of growing up in a household where Levi's were considered to be worn by Hoodlums and thieves. I don't get it. My mother came from the hills of Tennessee and I know they wore BIBS to farm in!!!
But! Not me! No denim, no Levi's.
But, I did make my vest AND with our patches with the MC What....... Boy, did I piss my mother off when she found out I took my plaid bathrobe, cut it up and made my vest from it. And you want to know something?! my biker friends kinda snickered at first, but it was still kinda cool. We ROCKED!!
The Sgt. was like a brother to me back then. I almost lived on his farm in the summertime, fall, winter and spring. We were inseperable,..until, we finished sixth grade and had to attend school in the city. Niles back in those days was a bustling community. A lot of industry. It also had the "city kids" whom disliked us "country kids". It also segregated "US". Not only my best friend, but all of us who left that country school. It was devastating for some of us. Some handled it well. Myself, I liked it in a way, because I always thought the city was fun. There was so much more to do.
However, the Sgt. didn't adjust. Being the "free spirit" he was proved to be his eventual downfall and "dropping out" of school. He was very "outspoken".
We lost track for years. Occassionally, I'd see him, but it wasn't the same. We were growing into young men and VietNam was no longer cool.
And then, one day I received a letter. The Sgt. decided to join the Army and was shipping out. He'd had enough of the BS life was throwing at him. I think it was the anger (maybe) of not being able to conform to a world with too many options.
I got letters of him from around the world. Germany, Japan, South Korea.
And then, he had to come home briefly. His mother died of cancer. We had a wake at the farm in her honor. The Sgt. and I reminiced over old times and we shared the grief of his loss. A moment had passed and the Sgt. turned and started to walk away into a newly plowed cornfield. I let him go thinking he needed a moment. But he returned with this smile on his face that I hadn't seen since we were kids, "country kids". I noticed he had a cord in his hand and as I was about to ask, he said, " This is for Ma, John." And he pulled the cord.
THE CORD was a cable about 150 feet long which was attached to an object I could barely see (it was dusk) out in the cornfield. ***Let me set the scene before I continue. There were quite a few people at the wake. His mother was loved by anyone who came into her kitchen. There were families with small children running through the yard and the barn, by the chicken coop...it was quite the affair.
Now, back to The Cord....
As the cord became taut a brilliant flash of light burst from the field. No, let me say,..an explosion came out of the field with an intense flash of light, a loud boom and then,..the shockwave! Yes, shockwave. Needless to say that not only the Sgt and I were knocked to our asses, but children were strewn about, tumbling on the ground and running in all directions!
After the first few moments of shock we returned to our feet with ringing in our ears and the increasing volume of children crying in terror. I looked at the Sgt and said, "HOW THE F... DID YOU GET THAT?!!" And then we both began laughing so hard we cried. And we cried for Ma.
The Sgt left the following day only to learn he was being stationed at Fort Riley. He had orders to leave for Kuwait (the first assault on Hussein). The Sgt was anxious, it was his moment. He was a tank commander for the Big Red One, the first ground assault unit to move into Kuwait. In one of his letters after the attack he wrote, it was over in a matter of hours with Iraqi's surrendering and crying with relief that the Americans were there to save them!
The Sgt was proud, but never boastful.
When he returned stateside I flew out to Kansas to see him and his wife. It was a 3 day drunk.
One night I woke to go to the bathroom to rid myself of the gallons of Budweiser we'd consumed that day. As I was trying to find the light I stumbled over something on the floor. I found the switch...and the Sgt.,....lying on the floor with his underwear around his knees and his cat sleeping on his back. As I tried to lift him up he said, "hmm, thought I was back in the desert." I never asked.
About a year later I got a phone call from the Sgt. He was being "retired" by the Army. It was devasting to him. It was his life. It was Clinton's plan to reduce spending.
It's been some years and we've lost touch as all good friends do. The last I heard he was living in N.Carolina with his wife enjoying what they could of the "goodlife" (he built a Kegerator by the pool). But I know that's not the way he wanted retirement. Not Sgt. Rock. He was a formidable man. The Army gleaned, trained and created a machine capable of handling a battalion of men ready to give their lives for their country as well as him. He was, as some men say, "built like a brick shithouse" and was bred to be a leader. A leader of Soldiers.
So, in retrospect, I salute you, Sgt. We played "army" as kids, but you lived it!
I thank the powers that be I had an opportunity to be your friend in this lifetime.

I'm carrying that tune of "Born to be Wild" in my head right now.....I really wish my parents would've allowed me to wear a denim vest.

Saturday Morning Hangover

I know, I promised to start my "friends List" last night. Had a end of the season TIKI party at the Pirate's Tiki Bar.

Feeling a little ruff. Need coffee.

I'll start my list today. Still trying to figure this site out to better navigate.

For now, however, it is time to grind the beans!!!

friday am

I smell the coffee brewing. I'm glad I take the time in my life to enjoy fresh ground coffee. Nothing like it. Kinda like the Japanese and their gardens,...yep. Nothin' like "grinding yer beans" in the morning.

As said, my altruistic, speculative Readers, i shall begin a new post tonight with the description of a friend. And as stated before, their virtues shall be listed along with "why they are my friend".

Ta Ta's!

ps: should anyone wish to comment on any of the posts, feel free. I am looking for input. If you are experiencing problems doing so, forgive me. I'll try to find a solution to the problem.

gottagetmovin

Greetings, Readers!
Ahh, Wednesdays! Beautiful Wednesdays. "Humpdays" as they are socalled for the middle of the week. And as usual the weekly "BeerMeDonna" night at the Nuggett Downtown Grill. $2 dollar imports! Can't beat that with a foreskin.
So, received a letter in the mail yesterday; "sameoldsameold" song and dance. I applied for a position at Southwestern Michigan College as a Graphic Designer. Once again, DENIED! Position is filled! Didn't even get an interview! Damned MAC user's!!! Burn them!!!
Whatever. Still working on my show for early spring 2009. Everyone must attend. I GUARANTEE it will be an event to inspire!
Well, I want to increase my BLOG site readers and here is what I plan.
At least once every other blog will feature a friend in my life. I will not mention their name for the sake of annonimity, but some might recognise them by what I will write. I will write only of their virtues (ahem...some might need more work) and their inspiration they have given to me. I thought about doing this alphabetically, but, that ain' gonna work, because I might forget someone in passing.
So, my friends, stay tuned and pass my blogsite along to others, because it's gonna be, well, interesting, sad, funny, beautiful, inspiring....I digress.
They are my heroes and before I die I want the world to know they exist! They are true friends in the fact they ask nothing of anybody, but would give the world to anybody. Can't beat that, even in a beer contest!
I will enter the first (FRIEND) as I will address them, this Friday night. I might use a nickname, or I might chose one. However, I will only speak of their virtues as I mentioned and some I will speak of the adventures we have shared.
So, as I said, pass this blog along to others, You might be mentioned. Who Knows?!!
Too, I will be starting a website soon to offer a preview of my art work. Some of it is still in process for the show next year.
It's been quite a journey since July 5th this year! I thank my friends for holding my hand through the worst of it. That is why I have decided to write about them and the others I have met in my life.
I will mention at times, my children. They are the reason I cling to this existence and give me the strength to push forward toward my lifelong goal as the "World's Most Unfamous Artist".
Stay tuned dear Readers.
Peace!
ps: If you should happen to not be mentioned, or fear that I will forget you, please comment to this blogsite.