THE WEEKENDER-FUN & GAMES AND MAGIC

MAGIC MEMORIES

   Nostalgic warmth can come with a variety of memories.

    Both daughters tell us the sound of basketball sneakers on hardwood, the din of the cheering fans and pep bands and the tones of announcers recall their childhood weekends. Usually a chili or stew simmered a delicious appeal into the mood, completing the sensory recording of a winter's afternoon.

     The girls live elsewhere, but some things don't change.
Even with our address only a mile or so from the Pacific, the magic of a Big Ten Rivalry captivates us. Where I used to have half time or post game chats with dad, or after he passed, with my mom, a real fan to the end, now I'm frequently on with my dear friend Frank, from Falls Church Va.- by way of Indianapolis basketball courts.
     Lana and I met at Ball State and we are fans and supporters of our Alma Mater BSU Cardinals-"the fiercest bird in the robin class" as our old friend Dave Letterman says.  Still, we have jointly been IU fans, at least as long as our marriage.  And I grew up where IU basketball was a religious experience. I've been a fan since I learned to dribble, but I've always had a chunk of heart dedicated to  the Butler Bulldogs, because of the legendary Tony Hinkle and some of their incredible small school big achievements and tenacious brand of basketball.
      We used to book spring vacation travel plans around the IU, Ball State, or Butler NCAA tourney schedule.  Usually it was the IU game we had to catch at an airport, or on a car radio or not fly that day. 

     I've even spent decades watching John Mellencamp become an old man of rock as he and a succession of beautiful women and/or wives take their special seats in Assembly Hall. 

     The best places to watch basketball in Indiana are at the new arena at Ball State, the Bankers Life Field House in Indianapolis and the blue print for all great basketball palaces, the Hinkle Field House at Butler University. While IU's Assembly Hall is a terrible venue to see a game, unless you have near the court seats, the spirit, energy and enthusiasm is one of the best to experience.

     It's hard for non mid-west or basketball loving people to get this, but there is a soul calming, almost meditative peace in watching Big Ten or NCAA college hoops.  A couple of California friends talk about baseball with the same reverence.  Something magic about a good game on TV. My dad extended that to golf, and I get that too. 

    The nostalgic memories of my dad, brothers, mom and later my daughters in that mix of familiar sounds and pleasing aromas are a magic at work. 

SPEAKING OF MAGIC

AND GOLF

     Thanks to my golf loving fraternity brother Brian for finding this incredible video of the week.

    See you down the trail. 

THE WEEKENDER- That time...

Merriement

     Merriment and good cheer are afoot. Smiles and greetings abound.

A Variation
My dad, a WWII vet and a big band dance era fan enjoyed Como and loved this...

       

hospitality night

   The Cambria American Legion post offers free hot dogs and hot chocolate and a warm fire.

  If you read this elsewhere-hospitality night is when locals graze their way through the east and west village merchants with stops along the way, most offering food and or drink.  It is a bazaar of tastes and mingling.  A social evening and high spirits.

     COMING SOON

Zebras at the Pacific

Next week.

You need to be a certain age to understand......

     Laughing at memories today with Paul, another media vet.  Crystal radios-those tiny little crystal rocks that we would run a hair like strip over until we found a frequency or signal, heard through uncomfortable old ear phones-nothing like the ear buds of this generation or ear phones of the boomer youth.  We recall hard, plastic and uncomfortable pieces to hold to the ear for a faint radio signal.  

     Tis the season for memories and mirth.  

     See you down the trail.

LABOR DAY

A WORKING DAY

     Labor day was just one more working day in a newsroom.  Yet there was a kind of cosmic foreshadowing that occurred in my kid hood.  

       As a grade school kid I became fascinated with radio news. There was something special about those voices coming in from great distances, telling about events of significance.  Perceptive man that my father was, he made sure I paid attention and thought about the process.  As it turns out, he knew the local radio and TV newsman.  

      Fred Moore Hinshaw had been an NBC announcer and legend had it that he and Lorne Greene (later of Bonanza) were the deep voices of NBC East and West back in the days when radio news reached more people than TV.  Fred came to Muncie Indiana, following his wife who was the local drama teacher.  Fred became a founder of the local television station and its news director.  Hinshaw Edits the News not only aired on radio, but in the early days of television, became the only source for local news on the tube.  Dad made sure I watched and listened to Hinshaw edit the news.

      Well one labor day, a rare day for my dad to be home and not at work, he loaded me into the car and we drove a ways into what I recognized was a "nicer" part of Muncie. The homes were larger, many of them were brick and they all had beautiful large yards with plenty of shrubs, hedges and shade trees. There on a slight slopping large green lawn was a man, sweating and wearing a cap as he shoved a lawn mower, the non powered type, over the lawn.  Dad pulled to the curb and honked.  The fellow turned, recognized dad and came over to the car.  It took a moment for me recognize the sweating man as Hinshaw, from Hinshaw Edits the News. I was stunned.  

     Dad and he chatted about politics and then said I was interested in the news.  I can't remember what passed in that conversation, but I was struck by the fact the man on the radio and television was mowing the lawn. At our house, my brother and I mowed the lawn.  

     Then that evening as the clatter of the teletype and the announcer intoned that Hinshaw Edits the News I was struck by the fact the man behind the desk with the deep voice and serious look had been the profusely sweating fellow on the nice lawn.  I'm not sure what I expected, that perhaps Hinshaw never left the station, was always on alert for news.  It then dawned on me that on this big deal holiday when working men and women had the day off, this guy was  there, working.  And just a few hours earlier he had really been working, breaking a sweat on a beautiful lawn.

     By the time I was working in a newsroom, I was not at all surprised by the fact that a holiday, even for working men and women, didn't mean a thing other than the stories we covered-parades, picnics and people working in their yards.  Like Christmas, New Year's eve and Thanksgiving, it was just another day of work.

     A quick post script.  Years later when I was in college and working as a radio news reporter in Muncie, my boss was Fred Moore Hinshaw. He was a brilliant writer, journalist, thinker and a bit of a rascal poet. Had he chosen the lights of a big city he would have succeeded, might even have been Chet Huntley.  He chose family, home and making a contribution where he lived, even if it meant sweating a couple of times on Labor Day.  My dad and Fred were of the same generation.  They were great teachers.

    See you down the trail.

MEMORIAL DAY-DECORATION DAY

REMEMBERING

and

WE BRING YOU A SMILE

A RE-POST FROM THE ARCHIVE

     My grandmother and her sisters used to call it "decoration day," the day you took flowers to decorate the graves.  It was always a Memorial Day tradition, to take flowers to the cemetery and to listen to the Indianapolis 500, "The Greatest Spectacle in Racing," on the radio.

     It is a weekend to remember, not only those who were lost in the service to our nation, or those who served, but to remember all of our family and loved ones.

      My father and Mother, pictured above were diligent about remembering. That is probably why, whenever I am in Indiana, I visit the cemetery and place flowers.

     This weekend I'm across the country, but I remember those trips over the decades. I also remember generations who now rest in peace, especially brothers John and Jim, taken in their prime.

John David

James D

      

If you wish, here is a beautiful moment of reflection.

NOW ABOUT SMILES

HERE'S SOMETHING TO PUT A SMILE INTO YOUR WEEKEND.  BE SURE TO WATCH THIS.

SEE YOU DOWN THE TRAIL.