#374

Sounds like homecoming went well. Lots of dancing. Grandpa Mike cut right to the chase, "Was there any slow dancing?" Michael said no, it was all hip-hop and jumping around, getting sweaty and thirsty. The lines to get water were really long, he said. Lines to get water? WHO CARES? I'm kidding. Sort of. At least he didn't give a one-word answer. But it seems strange; don't they promote at least some pairing-off, close-contact, partner dancing? You know, something that forces a bit of intimacy. Although, it's 2017; maybe that IS how they pair off and close-dance at high schools now? I know that's the scene at clubs in the city. Or it was. 15 years ago. Damn, I'm 15 years removed from 'clubs in the city' and 25 from 'dancing at high schools.' When did I get so out-of-touch? This calls for further investigation. Only because I'm out-of-touch.

Michael is playing soccer and getting better every game. It's fun to watch. On Sunday, he drove in the winning run in his fall baseball game. His cello concert was terrific, although he said they didn't sound good. I disagree. Although I like Grunge too. Michael has a refined ear. He likes blues, jazz (and hip-hop, apparently). I'm just happy he's involved and busy, playing, trying, competing; there's no better time in life than high school to do so many things. He has friends that play soccer and then rush to marching band practice and then, presumably, tackle their homework for an hour or two before bed. That's a long day. But they love it. And they get good grades. It's possible. It's awesome. I hope M 'n' m encourage their kids to be busy like they are. Megan has basketball tryouts this weekend. And she's rockin' the cello too. Just like her favorite person on the planet. Michael is far from lovey-dovey super-nice to his little sister. But he sets a good example and I'm grateful. My older sister Jenny set a great example for me – the best – and I'm grateful for that too. And my friends were busy with sports and activities and we pushed each other. How many times can I say I'm grateful?

The Cubs magic number is 11. I love that number. It's lucky. But I hope it goes to zero quickly.

Something I've wanted to document here for awhile: I fear I've shortchanged M 'n' m by not exposing them to a certain time-honored tradition.... I know my parents experienced it with their parents, as did Aunt Jenny and I with ours. Movies are made about it; think Chevy Chase and Wally World. I'm referring, of course, to the 'tradition' of the family driving vacation. M 'n' m have flown to Florida and Texas a few times. Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas, Wisconsin, Missouri, Michigan. They've been on a Caribbean cruise. But they have not – like I was as kid – been driven to Washington DC, Boston, Gettysburg, Niagara Falls, the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, and – my favorite – Deadwood. So much impressionable history. The Freedom Trail, the Salem Witch Trials, Ford's Theater, Mount Vernon, the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, you name it. We even went to the baseball, basketball, and football Halls of Fame. But back to my favorite, from Robert M. Wright's book Dodge City, The Cowboy Capital:

"I also insist that Dodge City was not the worst place on earth and at last I have heard of a town which was equal to, if not worse than Dodge City, and, by way of comparison, I here quote a graphic picture taken from the Virginia City Chronicle, published in the '70's, of another bad town: 'There are saloons all over the place, and whisky four bits a drink. They put two barrels upon end, nail a board across for a bar and deal out. A miner who wants to treat pours some gold dust on the barrel head and says, "Set 'em up!" They never weigh the dust. Sometimes a man won't put down enough dust, but they never say a word, and if he's a little drunk and puts up ten or fifteen dollars' worth they never mention it. They have three faro banks running all the time. They don't use checks, for the boys, when they won a pile of checks they threw them all over the place and some of them were too drunk to handle them. So the checks got played out. Now a man puts a little gold dust on a dollar greenback. Two dollars worth of dust on a ten-dollar greenback goes for twenty dollars, and so on – don't weigh the dust at all but guess the amount. We have a daily newspaper – that is, sometimes it's daily, and then when the compositors get drunk it doesn't come out for several days. If a man wants gun wadding he goes and pays four bits for a newspaper. Whenever they start a new city government they print a lot of city ordinances, then there's a grand rush for the paper. Sometimes it comes out twice a week and sometimes twice a day. Every man in Deadwood carries about fourteen pounds of firearms hitched to his belt, and they never pass any words. The fellow that gets his gun out first is the best man and they lug off the other fellow's body. Our graveyard is a big institution and a growing one. Sometimes, however, the place is right quiet. I've known times when a man wasn't killed for twenty-four hours. Then again they'd lay out five or six a day. When a man gets too handy with his shooting irons and kills five or six, they think he isn't safe, and somebody pops him over to rid the place of him. They don't kill him for what he has done, but for what he's liable to do. I suppose that the average deaths amount to about one hundred a month.'"