bassaf's Xanga

Vintage Reprint: Socks at McDonald's

Sat, 10 Oct 2009 13:27:39 GMT

This is a blog entry I wrote at Yahoo! 360° on September 8, 2005. Now that Yahoo! 360° has shut down the blog portion of their service I wanted to move this entry over. I was actually talking with some work colleagues about this the other day; this reminded me to resurrect/republish this story before it was totally lost to antiquity. This entry is neither radioactive, mutated, orcish or spaced-out. But it is "in" as in, "in real life." I edited it for spelling.

A couple of days ago I took Timothy and Noah to McDonald's for an ice cream and some play time while Stacy and Simon were at an appointment near my office. While we were in the outdoor play-place an older man with unkempt hair (I am one to write with my afro these days!) shuffled by and sat in the stool/table next to us. He immediately engaged me in conversation as I was trying to hold together an ice cream cone that was hopelessly melting over the cone rim and napkin onto my fingers.

Over the course of an hour, he told me about how he was homeless, how he wandered the streets and traveled the trains (MARTA) of Atlanta, visiting Grady Hospital on occasion to have the sores on his feet treated, visiting Waffle House for coffee, and of course visiting McDonald's for an occasional soft drink. At one point he looked me straight in the eye and told me he'd give me five dollars for my socks, if he had five dollars to his name. He held up his feet, sockless but with shoes on and with napkins stuffed in them for a little buffer between his skin and the leather of his well-worn black Nike shoes. I didn't know what to say, as far as yes or no, but I did feel compelled to say that if I did give him my socks, I wouldn't take any money for them. How could I?

We chatted some more about how he came to be homeless, how he thought my kids were handsome, where he grew up (in southwest Georgia) and how he had escaped a mental hospital at one point. He looked like a very scraggly Anthony Hopkins, by the way. His eyes were piercing like the actor's eyes. He showed me how much money he had, probably two dollars in specie. He talked about how $1000 had been stolen from him and that had started his downward spiral into homelessness. I tried to discourage him from smoking his cigars in the play-place and he got a little crazy on me, saying no cops would evict him for doing it. I said it should be a matter of doing what was right, not doing what was wrong when you know you're not going to get caught. He said I must be a Christian, and asked if I believed in Jesus? "Yes," I said. "Believe in God?" my unlikely inquisitor pressed. "Comes with the territory," I replied. "One in the same," he muttered. He showed me his hand, where a Star of David was tattooed. He said he was a Christian Jew.

At one point he wandered over to the shoe station, adjusting his too-loose trousers as he shuffled there. Somewhat inspired with the semi-privacy of his back turned and no one else at the play-place but my two boys giggling insanely, chasing the brave birds who were used to being close to humans dropping fry bits, I doffed my socks. When he came back, I told him, "I'm going to give you my socks." I helped him take off his shoes. I started to untie his laces but he said not to, that they were tied just as he needed them. He put on the socks--a process that took about 5 minutes as it must have been too painful to go any faster, with the sores and scratches visible on his feet from walking on them so much, I presumed. He stood up, said "Ah, that's nice," and sort of walked in place for a minute, enjoying the feel of socks on his feet.

I ended up buying him an ice cream cone, the fourth one (the first one for Noah--Timothy opted for a happy meal--then one for Stacy to go and the homeless man, then one for Timothy in the drive through, no less, because he decided he wanted ice cream after all, ha!) I'd bought that day. But what I spent on ice cream and used socks was far less than what I gained. I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it is I gained. Perspective? Recognizing Jesus in the lowest of the low? I could have shunned him, judged him, and I admit I did a bit of those, although unsuccessfully. But what I hope I did, was give him kindness that he can save up for a rainy day. God, bless him and heal him and bring him to a place where he can rise out of his situation.

Or, maybe God will keep him there so people like me could meet him and have our mercy tested?

Now follow the original comments I received for this post:

David, 10/03/2005 09:35:38: I'm reminded of the vignette in our great-grandfather's adolescence, when he earned a living hauling bags for passengers at a train station, and a Jewish passenger tattooed the Star of David on the back of his hand instead of giving him a tip. Young David didn't know that the tattoo was insulting for an Arab!

Anonymous, 12/13/2005 17:52:25: Something to consider when you get the gift of socks this Christmas, I'm sure we all will look at socks differently.

Untimely severe weather alert

Wed, 27 May 2009 12:41:02 GMT

Radioactive!

Last night my lovely sci-fi geek wife and I pulled a late night marathon and watched the third and second to last episodes of the 2nd season of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. Oh man, this show keeps getting better and better. I have to believe, however, they knew they were getting the axe, based on some of the things happening. We tried to watch the last episode, too, but it was 1/2 an hour of live weather updates during a tornado-spawning storm and the last 1/2 hour of the show (presumably). Rats! They don't call Friday nights the death time slot for nothing, I suppose. How ironic, that the last episode of the season, probably the series, was on the air, and 1/2 the viewers, however many were actually left still watching the show (ratings were apparently awful), couldn't actually see it. At least in the Atlanta metro market. So we will have to watch it on the Internet.

I can't believe they canceled this show, as good as it is! I never was sold on Lena as Sara Connor, although of late she has even impressed me. John Connor never quite shined through Dekker until recently, although it was less of a hurdle that for Sarah. First I had to get over him as the same actor who played CheerBear's friend in Heroes season 1. I have totally loved Derek Reese and Cameron, despite her necessarily one dimensional performance. I guess what I'm saying is, no I don't think the show blew everyone away, but it was a great show, it has had clever and gripping writing, but suffered a bit from some of the acting. I hope the finale won't disappoint.

I wonder if I write about Terminator every day, if the Internet buzz around this show will significantly increase enough to where the network executives will realize they should keep T:TSCC alive despite its poor ratings and bring it back? (Doubtful!) Or maybe SciFi will pick it up like they did with Sliders. I guess I'll find out the feasibility of that once we watch the last episode.

Ryan Seacrest, this is all your fault

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 00:47:03 GMT

There it sat, in our house's attic, for who knows how many years. The keyboard. Elizabeth saw it one day as she had followed me into the crawlspace on the other side of our office, which years ago had been carved out of 1/2 our attic space above the garage. I was rummaging through some boxes of comic books (please don't remind of me of the peril my collection is in sitting in non-air-conditioned space!) and she poked her head through the door, in awe at the coolness of the space she never got to go. "What's in that box?" "Oh that's a keyboard Grammy Polly gave us a while back." "Can I have it?" she asked, eyes completely widened with excitement.

It wasn't a good time to pull it out, so there it sat for many months more. Out of the blue, today she asked if she could have it. She'd periodically asked, and it just never was the right time. But today, it was the right day, time, or maybe it was just I didn't have the heart to continue the small heartbreak whenever she'd ask and I'd say, "Not right now, honey."

We couldn't find an adapter that would work on it. It needed an AC adapter that spit out DC 9V. I had a few that transformed to 12V, one that went to 7.5. So we raided our flashlight collection for the 6 D cells it would need, and the next hour saw the four kids taking turns having a blast with the melodies, drum beats, and other sounds more on the cacophony end of the musical scale. I don't know why I didn't let them have it earlier--maybe I was scared that the younger kids would break it and was waiting for them to get older. Maybe I was afraid it would just get tripped over with all the other stuff in my daughter's routinely anti-organized room of possessions. Maybe it was just nonsensical laziness. Whatever the reason, I was happy to see them having so much fun tonight and was thankful Mom had given us the keyboard.

When it was time for Noah to retire, after reading Grandma's Gumbo (complete with dedication to Timothy on the occasion of his 5th birthday), I was reaching on top of his bookshelf for his light when I saw it. A black cord. It was an adapter, most likely stashed there by me years ago. Dust covered, it sat there like Wheezy from Toy Story 2, just waiting to be put into use. It probably used to be hooked up to an old Noah's Ark-themed decorative item that we'd long since unplugged. It was the adapter I'd been thinking of--the one with the selector from 1.5V all the way to 9V. The one I had aquired when I was but a lad, to use for a much more primitive keyboard my parents bought me--the one that was the store counter model at the local drugstore. The one I still have in working condition. Whose adapter had powered many things over the last 20 years. But enough of the nostalgia: ecstatic at the discovery, excited at the prospect of not having to feed a too big supply of expensive D cells to the newly unburied keyboard, I stuffed it into my pocket, turned out the light, said bedtime prayers with Noah, and headed downstairs to try it out.

The sonofagun worked, it actually worked. Alright!!!

The feeling lasted about 15 seconds.

Simon and Timothy were still playing with the keyboard downstairs when I came down to test the adapter. I tested it out with Simon on the couch and the adapter cord strung across the room from couch to wall socket. The three of us rejoiced in the moment. Then I realized it was 8:00. Stacy had asked me to record American Idol that started at 8. I was missing it! The opening musical credits! Well, still having plenty of time to pull out a tape (tape: ancient hi-fidelity video recording medium used in that pinnacle of 1970s video recording technology: a VCR, the operation of which differentiated Middle Aged Man from Old Man) before tonight's top ten sang their songs, I raced across the room around the couch to grab a spare tape, tripping over the cord I had just plugged in not 15 seconds previously, almost busting my can, and breaking the electronic keyboard's adapter socket in the process. That's right, I broke it.

There the keyboard sat in its box, for gee, I don't know, 5+ years in my attic. There the adapter sat on top of Noah's bookshelf for gee, I don't know, 3 or so years. Both collecting dust. Only to be dusted off for a glorious 15+ seconds of electrical current glee before succumbing to my hair-brained self.

I blame this on you, Ryan Seacrest!!!

I guess it's back to D cells we go.

Welcome, Blue Valkyrie! Welcome, Red Valkyrie!

Sat, 03 Jan 2009 04:55:14 GMT

Gauntlet II has to be one of my all-time favorite arcade games. But this isn't about the blue, red, yellow or even green Valkyrie one could play in that game.

Two Valkyries unexpectedly converged on me the past week.

First, I saw the movie of the same name. I had not previously known of any details surrounding the last known assassination attempt on Hitler except that it was a failed attempt, and something about a bunker. I had no idea Valkyrie was a code-name for a contingency plan Hitler had set up to secure the German government in the case of his demise, and that it was tweaked and used (unsuccessfully) by the Berlin resistance movement to stage a coupe after they attempted to assassinate him. I actually very much enjoyed the movie. And according to Wikipedia, the movie was factually accurate, apart from a few Hollywood embellishments.

The second Valkyrie, well, oh phooey. I can't remember what the 2nd one was. I'm currently reading Watchmen, the graphic novel from 1985 and soon to be released in theaters, if the movie studios can ever manage to stop suing each other over it. Maybe the 2nd reference was in that novel. Ok, it is a comic book. But I have the 22nd Canadian printing of it and the 12 issues are bundled together in one volume, so they get to call it a graphic novel. It did win a Hugo award and has sold like a million reprinted copies so it's not just a regular old comic book. Anyway, I guess I'm getting old, my brain juice has lost its fizz, my memory banks are drying up, since I can't recall the 2nd reference. Or in other words, "Green Valkyrie, your life force is running out!"?

"Aaaaahhhhh!"

In short: the movie was good. The graphic novel is very good. (Sorry, Xanga does not have a blood-drop sporting smiley.) And Gauntlet II is awesome.

Plain, predictable, and trustworthy

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 19:46:49 GMT

Take the quiz at dicepool.com

At least I'm more exciting (or at least multi-surfaced) than a d4. Not be confused with my brother who goes by "d4." I won't speculate on whether I'm more exciting than he is or not. Happy summer to everyone in the northern hemisphere. For all of you in the southern hemisphere, uh, never mind!

Convergence of Quotes

Sat, 01 Mar 2008 19:37:12 GMT

I read the blog of Oracle's Chief Security Officer, Mary Ann Davidson. (Whoa, geek alert!) I believe I have mentioned this in a previous writing. Her writings are intelligent, entertaining and informative--at the very least! Her most recent entry, from February 12, 2008, is entitled, "Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics." Apparently that is a quote attribute to Mark Twain. She covers lies, more lies, and statistics in her writing. As always her writing does not disappoint. I had never heard this quote, but it and her use of it were very memorable to me. You might think that my mentioning this has something to do with Security, or Oracle, or some kind of philosophical debate about either or neither.

Well, aren't you wrong! This is about Star Trek. "Most illogical," you say?

For you see, I'm reading the Star Trek Gateways crossover. It is a series of seven books. The first six take place in each of six different Star Trek settings: The Original Series, during their original mission (Kirk! Spock! Bones! Orion Slave Girls!), The Challenger Series--novels spun off from TOS, The Next Generation, pre-Star Trek Nemesis (Picard! Riker! Data! Spot the cat!), Deep Space Nine, post-series finale (Kira! Vaughn! Bashir! Taran'atar the friendly Jem'Hadar!), Voyager, before they get home (Janeway! Chakotay! Neelix! Fluffy the dog!), and New Frontier--novels spun off from TNG (Calhoun! Shelby! Lefler! Scotty!). I'm reading the New Frontier one presently. In the novel, written by Peter David, one of the 'bad guys' of the novel shouts in defiance to Captain Calhoun, "Lies, damn lies!" To which the pilot, McHenry, mutters under his breath, "and statistics." Had I not only a week earlier read Oracle's CSO's latest blog entry I would never have known what McHenry was talking about. In fact, Peter David writes that no one on the bridge knew what he was talking about. Well aren't I just special. Due to my spare time spent reading Davidson's most enlightening, professional, intellectual, and academic writing, I enjoyed that much more my spare time spent reading David's most entertaining, humorous, easy-to-read, and sophomoric writing!

Boo-yah!

Hey eBay: Snikt

Fri, 15 Feb 2008 13:50:47 GMT

'Nuff said!

http://www.usatoday.com/life/movies/news/2008-02-13-wolverine_N.htm

Ok not really enough said; I can't resist opportunity to geek-out over this picture. His claws are looking better and better (than the claws Jackman wore in the three X-Men movies).

And speaking of better and better, the Star Trek Gateways books I am reading are getting better and better. More than increasing in quality, really, is that I finally got to the 4th book in the series, which is the reason I bought the entire 7 books in the first place. In my slow and long overdue tour of Deep Space Nine "season 8" I have thoroughly enjoyed reading the continuing adventures of the Deep Space 9 crew and the 4th book in season 8 is the 4th book of the Gateways crossover.

I picked up the 7-book set off eBay last year from a Star Trek "reseller" that frustrated me very much. Once I realized I needed to get the 4th Gateway book, the complete-ist in me wanted to get the whole series. There were precious few full sets of these for sale on eBay and the books are from 2000 so they weren't exactly on the bookshelves anymore at Borders. So I bid on an instance of the 7-book set and was outbid at the last minute. Then the next day I saw a new listing for the 7-book set. Sure enough, it was being sold by the same id that bought it earlier in the week. ERG! This seller was just buying sets and trying to turn a profit selling them back out again through her storefront. Well what can I do? I'm a slave to what is being offered. As frustrated as I was with the whole experience, I put a bid on the same set offered by the different seller, and won. We had a jovial exchange about the whole deal and how it went down, and I think I ended up paying less for the set in the 2nd bidding war than I did in the 1st bidding war. Perhaps one will then ask why I am complaining. :) Ah well, eBay. Can't live with it, can't live without it.

*SNIKT*

Make It So

Thu, 31 Jan 2008 12:13:38 GMT

I just read a great article about Patrick Stewart and his career as a thespian, Hollywood actor, and now again, a thespian. It reminded me of a couple of things.

One, I've been saying for several years now that as long as I look like Jean-Luc Picard, I don't mind going bald. Yes, maybe its the radiation (or the scraggly orc in me) but I've been increasing in forehead surface area the last, well, several years.

Two, I've been reading the Star Trek Gateways books. The third is a Captain Picard-era book. The first was a Kirk-book, and the remaining of the 7 are shared among the various television and original novel series settings. Book 1 was pretty good, but not spectacular as far as TOS books go, but Book 2 was FANTASTIC, even though it was about the crew of a starship (the Challenger) not seen on TV and about which I'd not read any other (of the preceding 6 introductory) books--bravo to author Diane Carey! I've been enjoying it. The books center on the ancient Iconians, who left behind two gateways as seen in a couple of TV episodes, one from The Next Generation and one from Deep Space Nine. But, as we find out in the books, there are many, many more gates. It has been fun to be inserted back into the Starship Enterprise, with Picard and Riker and the regular gang on the bridge (this book is pre-Star Trek Nemesis) and Worf as Federation Ambassador to the Klingon Homeworld (this book is post-Deep Space Nine season 7). It's got some sprinkling of Deep Space Nine season 8 in it (as seen in the novels) and I am already looking forward to the next book which is ALL DS9. In fact that's why I picked up this septology, because I've been reading the Star Trek Deep Space Nine "season 8" as fleshed out in a series of ordered novels, and the next one I'm due to read is the Gateways crossover component.

So to summarize, Stewart is awesome and hopefully my wife will be calling me a sexy bald man just as I'm sure many female fans call Stewart, and no matter how old, bald or wrinkly he gets, Captain Picard's most excellent adventures continue on, and I am very glad to be reading them. Oh and by the way, I am very glad folks are writing them. Keep up the good work, Pocket Books!

Ben and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 20:19:04 GMT

Sunday was a very cold day. It hadn't snowed all day but still the snow was around as it was too cold for the snow to melt. The children were riding their motorized jeeps, Razor scooters and bicycles, periodically venturing indoors to thaw or request permission to "play GameCube now because we've been riding bikes and scooters ALL day and NEVER get to play GameCube!" Then the report came--Timothy's bike's chain had come loose. Probably had hit a curb or something. Suddenly I was transported back in time to days long gone by when I would have to fix this very same mechanical malfunction in my own bike, ridden mercilessly during my pre-teen and teenage years, now hanging upside down and pedal-less from yellow hooks screwed into the drywall in our garage ceiling in front of the wooden bookshelf, full of books and at various times, pet tanks, that used to be nailed to the wall of the bedroom I shared with my brothers, and which now holds various canned goods, bags of napkins, and bottles of translucent blue Jet-Dry.

"Tell Elizabeth, Daddy can fix it!" I proudly, excitedly, told Timothy, for it was his sister who was riding his bike, and it was Timothy who reported on the bike's current state of malfunction.

I met Elizabeth at the entrance of our covered, stuff-filled, zero-car garage (on account of its current inability to contain a single car, despite its design to the contrary) with my Sears Craftsman tool kit. "I used to fix this on my old bike all the time!" I said, puffing my chest. "Alright, Dad!" she exclaimed, and she was off, selecting the temporarily discarded bike of one of the neighborhood kids, for the next leg of her wheeled adventure in the below-freezing wind of our street.

It took me two times of unscrewing the plastic chain cover on the starboard side of the bike, unscrewing the back wheel nuts to move the back wheel center-ward to create some slack in the chain, massaging the chain back on the wheel gears, then screwing everything back together, before I got the bicycle back to working order. The first time through the process, I screwed the nuts back on to the same spot I figured they were before--where the steel had been obviously worn down a bit into a rut from the pressure of the nut on the bike frame. But that position had too much slack in it and the bike wheels barely turned one-quarter revolution before the chain slipped off again. The second time through the process I made sure to pull the back wheel as tight as I could get it before tightening the nuts onto the threaded bolts. After a test drive up and down the street looking like a clown at a circus, I certified it as back in service.

Recalling this little event with its embedded younger-year flashbacks made me pause, to reflect. You know, life is like bicycle maintenance. Sometimes you try to put yourself back together after falling apart or getting broken. Getting back to the rut you were in probably will lead right back to falling apart again. Tightening up on the assembly--held together for many of us by our prayer lives--can work wonders. We'll probably all last a lot longer in life, too, the more we pick up the prayer phone.

Have you read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? I read it in high school. All I remember is this guy riding his motorcycle across the country and waxing philosophically about stuff. Don't remember what the "stuff" was, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to do a little waxing myself, and the title seemed to fit nicely for what I was thinking about today.

Come With Me If You Want To Live

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 17:50:44 GMT

Recently I have been thinking about science-fiction television shows which, in my opinion, were canceled before their time. In other words, I really liked them, how could they possibly cancel such a cool show? Here are a few from recent years which more than scratched my perennial science fiction itch.

Sliders -- ran for three seasons on FOX (only one of them a "full" season), was canceled, then was picked up and run for two more seasons on SciFi and was canceled again.
Enterprise (renamed as Star Trek Enterprise) -- ran for three full seasons on UPN, was threatened with cancellation, and was brought back for one final abbreviated season before being canceled again.
Firefly -- ran for one season and was canceled, although it did make a cult come back with a feature film.
Jericho -- ran for one season on CBS, was canceled, and is currently back for a "because you demanded it" second season. Who knows how long it may last.

Another prime example from before my (biological) time, of course, is the original Star Trek series which was canceled after two seasons and was only brought back for a third due to a massive letter writing campaign.

The latest show on my mind with respect to this is Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. Don't get me wrong, I haven't heard that this show has been canceled. And apparently a boat-load of folks watched the two-night premier this past Sunday and Monday. But what is to stop FOX from canceling it just as countless other shows have been canceled without asking me first if it is a good idea to cancel?

No more will I let good shows go silently (or noisily) into cancellation. I have decided that I will do what I can to keep on the air, good shows which are currently on the air. Since the Nielson Ratings have never queried me or my television habits about the shows I like, I figure if I start blogging about the shows I like, it'll be one way for the amorphous media buzz to be influenced in the direction I prefer. So to all the anonymous top 40 blog list builders, search engine robots, web crawlers, blog linkers, etc. out there looking to see what folks think is "popular," whose pulses surely are read by popularity indexes in this Internet age, I have something to write: don't terminate the new Terminator TV series!

I thought the premier episode was fantastic. The way the series launched itself from the time after the second Terminator movie to (presumably) its permanent resting place in the current year I thought was very clever and despite having read some spoilers about it, unexpected to me as I watched it. The idea a coworker presented to me this week, that the Connors could presumably now meet Kyle Reese who presumably has been born by this time, sounds like a juicy plot twist waiting to be explored. The dead-pan delivery of Sarah's holstering suggestion to her new terminator ally (referring to Firefly's Summer Glau, ironically), who sits, topless, picking bullets out of her torso, was an instant classic line. (Although I admit to not remembering the quote verbatim!)

I still (day)dream about one day seeing a Sliders feature film, or a Star Trek Enterprise movie, or even completing my viewing tour of the Firefly franchise and Jericho. For all these shows, and for all those shows I enjoyed which died without me registering a meaningful plea to the contrary, I dedicate this bit of Internet semi-permanence! Long live Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles! It is awesome!