Braking news...

There's somethin' happening here.. 

No, that ain't it.  

Well, kinda sorta.

If you're old, like me. Number one, you're blessed.  Number two. (It's the coffee, BRB) I'M JOKING! RELAX!

Secondly, (how's that?) it seems our land (Remember? This land is your land, this land is my land, from California to the New York Island)... our land, has these moments, periods - where, its kinda like an old LP album, ya get to a certain point, it's bound to SKIP, SCREETCH, NONSTOP, YEEOUCH. 

EVERYONE HOLDS THEIR EARS.... OMG's happen and they ain't abbreviated...

To compensate, we all scream at the toppa our lungs.  Hell, it's no wonder, once we hit SS age, all them damn Beltone flyers show up in the mailbox, we canardly hear.

We, they. Both sides, yes, preach to the choir. It just don't work. It's like tryin' ta run but there ain't no laces in your tenny boppers. 

Sure, each side holds the their side up, but(t), once we stand up, try to start'a runnin', spoutin'-toutin', we ain't gots no belt in our pants and we literally, physically, figuratively show our ass, by cracky. A nation of plumbers, your side, my side, we're all a hollerin' but no one is roto rootering the drain.

 Calgon, take me away. Gimme a break, gimme a break, break me off a piece'a the Kit Kat bar. Two tickets to Paradise perty please. Dudeism some bowler once called it.

Not long ago I bored you with the story of my retired school Superintendent buddy... how 'Establish culture' was key to his beginning days in a new school district. TBC.

He spoke of visiting the bus barn, third day on the job... folks were'a laboring away, mechanics, drivers, supervisors, clerical staff, with smile, with music, THEN, it stopped. The damn LP started sticking, skipping, screeching, metafour...ah, metaphor....hmmnn...kinda sorta.

He went to the manager and asked, "What happened?".... "Well, you're here."

Light bulb. A week later, two dozen donuts it tow, he visited them ON BREAK, talked, laughed, learned he was'a human just like them, got to know each others families, likes, wants, dreams. The debris, grease, whateverinthehell it was in the LP album was removed.  

The Fob to culture began.

I feel it coming "Pasture Schultze" (please note the spelling) you're gonna preach aint'ya?  

Mebbe.

Braking News (please note the spelling.)

You (we too) deserve a break today, so get up and get away...

Put the lime in the coconut,  take a drive in the country.

Text your BFF a joke.

Crank a favorite tune. Visit the gravesite of a loved one. 

Swing on the porch swing. Ain't got one? Buy one. Spend a couple hours with Andy, Barney. Ope, Hoss, Ben, Lil' Joe.

Put in earbuds and whip up a meatloaf, or pecan pie.

Phone a friend. Is that your final answer?  NO.

Brake, take breaks often.  

I dunno about you, but my experience in virtually every job I've ever had, THE BEST times were when we were not on task but on break. Letting our hair down, laughing at ourselves, complimenting, confiding, asking for or giving advice (when asked for it.)

Yum. A dozen donuts. Nature's Xanax.

Temporarily "Take this job (life, skipping LP, we/they, protest this, did you see, hear that? Can you believe what so and so said? Patooey and shove it." At least while we're on break.

Vacation. Staycation. Sudoku. Hell, even Farmville.

Do sumpin, anything, occasionally,  when the record skips.

I personally am considering a girls trip. No no no. I just wanna tag along!  Aintya heard, girls just wanna have fun.

Braking News from the real Breaking News.

Don't forget the baby aspirin. 

Love, Victurd

U...U

vacUUm sucks.  Sometimes life sUUcks.  Death sUUcks even worse.

UU don't. 

Yesterday was the celebration of life for our 39 year old son. I honestly never ever lost my faith in mankind. 

Strangely, I liken this whole thing to bowling. UUs family members hurting, were in no mood to get up, take our turn back in the game of life.

I, we, don't know how our friends do it, but yoUU are, have been, the bUUmper rails for gUUiding UUs back down, ahead to, the path of life. 

From the day my, our son expired, yoUU friends, loved ones, have been incredible. Example setters.

Age 39. Way too young, of course.  Wonderful, seeing, hearing from Dru's buddies that played in the yard, on the baseball field, basketball court.. sat next to our son in school.. clocked in at work along side him.

Death sUUcks, no way around it.

We, obviously, are not at the wheel.

Your behavior, heart, tears, graciousness, hugs are exemplary for us as we all go forward.

Life, living is so, so good.

Be a vacuum. Suck up the good, ya just never know. We can steer all we want, but we're not at the wheel in regard to the timing of our destination. As we go forward, empty the collected ugly we find enroute into the trash.. then jump back up there 'tween the bumper rails of goodness.

We thank you for your love.

UU, are remarkable.

For your buddy to read at funeral pretty please..

This is Dru's father.  I think I can speak for his mother and I in that we have been gratefully overwhelmed by the kindness, phone calls, texts,  emails, messages, cards, letters, hugs, shoulders to lean on, offers of "if you need anything" and generosity of all.. friends, loved ones, etc.  Thank you, thank you, very much. A special shout out to the Ladies Golf League at the Club of Marimack - you're awesome.

We, as parents, recently joined a club no one in the World wants to belong to.  A few of you knew Dru pretty well, some of you a little bit, and certain there are some here who maybe just kinda knew Dru, so let's go back.  

July 3rd, 1985, Dru arrived to this World just in time for The World Series.

Biased, but cute little guy. Before he could even talk, if we did something he didn't like, he made a sound like the buzzer at the end of a basketball game - so, we started asking him "What does the buzzer at the end of a basketball game sound like?" And he'd comply with the noise.

Age 7, I think it was...MASSIVE snowstorm in Liberty, MO. 10? 12? Inches?

"Mom? Dad?. Can you take me to Jesse's?" (His cousin, 5 blocks to 291, cross the four lane highway, another 4 blocks to Jesse's.)  "NO, of course we can't.

Question, request was asked it's kid normal 7, 12 times, each met with NO.

"I'm going out to play then." We, eyeballing 4 others on sleds, building snowmen, yada, "OK."

Checked a bit later. All good. 

Not even 20 minutes later, phone rang.. a mostly frantic sister inlaw on the other end (the one that lives 5 blocks to 291, four lanes across the highway, another 4 blocks) "DRU JUST SHOWED UP AT OUR DOOR!" It's a wonder we weren't hauled in for child endangerment.

That, is kinda a microcosm of my, our son's life.

Summer, age 9. Third day after the school year ended, broke his right wrist. For a sports crazy baseball loving right hander, devastation. By week two, he was shooting free throws lefthanded WAY BETTER than his naturally lefthanded father ever did.

The next year, coming home after work only to be met at the door of 305 Lee Drive by a cute little blond kid, ball bat and glove in hand.

Our son was a foot or so shorter, at that age, than his buddies. We went. Bucket after bucket of fly balls, ground balls, batting practice. I'm talking SMTWTFS.

We'd go, hit a ton of fly balls to this little bitty dude in the outfield. Due to that size, and the height of the fly, sometimes folks would stop and watch in amazement, as time after time the little guy measured the depth, height, right or left, and it would fall gracefully in his glove. Sure, proud poppa, but, just telling it like it is, it was fun to watch.

A favorite memory is of us, his travel league 7th grade basketball team, and we had FINALLY made it to the championship game of a tournament. Eleven of us, nine kids all sizes and color, another dad, and I, right before the game, crammed into whatever the 6 seat clunker it was I was driving at the time - and drove around and around and around the middle school parking lot with Queen's "We Are the Champions" totally cranked. Happy. It was happy, FUN.

We lost the game, but I think can tell ya 11 people who will never forget that.

Dru loved much.  Cheese.  Cheese pizza.  Chicken. Movies.  Playstation 2. History.  Swam like a fish. Got darker than the Coppertone lady in the Summer.

I hasten to list his best buds for fear of missing some, so apologies if I do.... Jay, Mel, DC, Teoppalious, Jesse Reece, Rodney, Jess Bogner, Clifton, Jason Chrisp, Albert, Logan, Jeff Tubbs... and of course his brother and his cousins.

Back To School Night, 1st grade.  We got home, he looked at me disgustedly and said "You're the oldest dad in my class!"  I wish he had learned his financial acumen from his mom, but, he surely got it from me.  For example, he'd cash his paycheck, "Take me to McDonalds please"....a Triple Cheeseburger, Large Fry and a Large Dr. Pepper later, we're at $15.87.  As the week wound down and payday was a couple days out......."How bout you hook me up with that McDonald's app buy one get one sausage biscuit?"

Dru loved fun. I think he learned fun from his Granny Rose Marie.  Teasing. Bantering.  Daughter Aubrie was "Rosey", Bella was lovingly 'Chunk Dog', and Kendal (and I) were not fans, but he called us each "Fat boy".  I was also Shay, OG and Pops.

He was a neat freak.  The husband who did all the cleaning, sweeping, mopping, dishes.  Every job he ever had, he was the hardest worker among 'em.  He possessed incredible strength for his size

Fiercely loyal, he displayed via tattoo the names of his departed Aunts Nancy and Vanda, Uncle Buddy and Granny Rose on his body.  He loved his mom like crazy, she earned a spot in ink and she's still here. Payday, he would take his check to the bank... come back to the car.. "I've gotta stop and get something for mom." Mother/son relationship. What better?

His heart was huge for critters.  As recent as a week or so ago, he smiled, looked at me and asked "Whaddaya think JC (a cat we owned 20+ years ago) is doing now?...How 'bout Figgy?"

Thankfully, he grew up in a household, in an extended family where there was no fear of using the word love, and man did he, we use it.  He also, would be silently sitting with me, or any loved one... a hand would reach our shoulder and three love pats, saying without saying, would happen. With great frequency, unprompted, he'd pass out "I love you"s.

He had some 'very soon to do' bucket list items that didn't come to fruition.  A night at the Elms.  Getting a hotel room with a pool, yummy hot breakfast for he and his three kids in Topeka.  He wanted to start going to the First Baptist Church in Liberty

Most most most of all............. He loved his children.  I found a note he'd penned recently, addressed to them, he had intended to deliver...........

"Aubrie Rose  (and Kendal and Bella)...

I love you with all my heart and soul. The day you were born, I held you with one hand.  December 30, 2010, it was 63 degrees out!  My favorite day of all time!  You were so small but still so beautiful.  You were Daddy's girl from Day One.  Your first day of kindergarten, you didn't want me to put you down. You made friends fast. You were a Girl Scout, I was SO proud!  Then, your brother Kendal comes along, 

A house divided?  No!  You, Mom, Kendal, Dad, one big loving family. You and Kendal have been buds, then, Ms. Bella comes along and we made 3.

Kendal, you dance your cute little booty off!  Us three would play soccer everyday the weather allowed. Bella really just bounced around on the swings.  Kendal you've come a long ways, from kickball to soccer.  Plus, you're dope on X-Box.  I love you guy, with all my heart.

Bella, my heart angel world.  We communicate without even talking.  You just get it.  

All three of you will run the World!  Just remember that Dad loves you and gave you all he had.

Love, Daddy.

Bottomline, there was a wonderful gleam in his eye each and every time he got to see any of his kids.

That bucket list was, at least temporarily interrupted on March 17th, 2025, St. Patty's Day.

That day, Dru left to go UP THERE.  So many to go, see, visit.  Buddy, Nancy, Vanda... Grandpa Bill, Granny Rose, Grandpa Bud.. first stop though was to his Grandma Velma.  It was her birthday.

We love and miss you Dru.

Love is in the air...

There was undoubtedly a time, folks like Wayne Gretzky, Stan Musial, Barry Sanders, Dolly Parton, Keanu Reeves, Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts, many, were beset with, "I've never done this before", ie, started their 'craft' the very first time, assuredly, doubt set in...

Wonderful coaches remind, "you think Brett always batted .300?  We're you aware there was a time, MJ had never dunked?  McCartney's voice used to crack?"

I'm certain it was certain to those around them.  They provided belief, a shoulder to lean on, coupled with care, concern.

I have friends, that unfortunately have lost a child.  I never ever knew what to say to them, if anything.

Not all that long ago, a gal I had dated, had cancer and her demise, soon, was a certainty.  In fact, she texted me, something like, "I'd love to see you... they've started a morphine drip."

Selfishly, I guess, I thought of me. What do I say?  What if I cry? I truly though, didn't want to upset her.

I leaned on my coworker who doubles as a preacher.

"What do I say?"  Doesn't matter, he answered.  "What if I cry?"  That's ok, just being there is all that matters.

I admit to being worried about 'today' in our land.  I belong to college and professional sport's team fan forums, local Liberty ones and sometimes, just FB in general online. A single topic happens- it doesn't take 5, 6 comments before hatred, mudslinging, name calling sets in. I very much admit to 'conflict upsets me.'

It's everpresent today in all walks, topics, locally,  nationally, on our roadways, at kid's games, even in grocery checkout aisles.

There is not much good, at least as we walk the planet, with death.

"I've never done this before."

Three of my very best friends have, and their words to me, our family, have been beautiful.

My worry of our town, nation, every day life - has lessened.

This is day 3.  I, we, have had so many incredibly kind, loving, hugging, comforting texts, phone calls, DM's, personal meets in public, and those have helped me at least, to know I can do this. (And I know my family, ex, feel the same way.)

Your love, kindness, concern, prayer, has given me purpose to simply get out of bed.

There is no doubt any longer our world is wonderful, as always.

From being on your end, not knowing what to say. Fear of saying the wrong thing, we all know how difficult that is.

You must've already spoken to my preacher buddy Mike.  "Doesn't matter what you say, it's OK to cry, just being there is what matters."

You've truly been incredible, each and every one.

I can forsee down the road, when silence sets in, that could be the tough time(s). I have such admiration for those of you who have been through and are still going through this.

We are all different and I read, briefly, about what to say, not say and there is no mandated concensus 

I've always loved when folks bring up my parents..  my sister... and into the future, hopefully my son.

Thank you, thank you, truly, thank you. Love is in the air.

We, as a nation, are, have been, always will be, great.

Never... Little Buddy.. and so much more..

Never.. we all learn, is too long, at least upon this physical planet.  

We've all lost..  parents,  siblings, loved ones of all kinds, friends, coworkers, classmates, yada.

They pass.  Never. Never see em again. Sucks. So much to say, no ears available to listen.

July 3rd, 1985, I was a probationary employee (new hire, "ya can't miss work") for Eastern Airlines.

A phone call had been made, my 'Lead' drives up, somewhat frantically, "Jump in Vic, you gotta go, I'll take you to the employee lot."

"Her water broke."

I knew that one.  19 miles from the employee parking lot to 924 South Main in 11 minutes, or thereabouts.

I landed at home, jumped from my almost new Luv truck, as if I'd had a 5 hour energy drink, a Red Bull and six cups of Java.

But.  But, she was seated comfortably in the living room with neighbor Ellen.

"For Godsakes, LET'S GO!" Said I, the one with absolutely no Phillips screwdriver,  lefty loosy, righty tightie handy skills.  I DID NOT, want to have to stop on the sidea I-35 and attempt to be a midwife.

"Calm down Victor, we'll be ok."

Were.

Until, we checked into NKC Hospital, it was ascertained the umbilical cord was wrapped around our son's neck, Emergency C-Section, and I felt so sorry for HER. ...she shook as if she'd gone out in the sub zero yard with no coat on.  Couldn't blame her.

Victor.   This is getting pretty long..   Hey, it's OK and I understand if you wanna go, but I could write for a solid year and this blog wouldn't be as long as it should be. (today, anyways)

"Mr Schultze? Would you like to observe the surgery?" I'm skeemish.  By now, we thankfully had a fun, fantastic anesthesiologist who'd comforted mom, reduced the gale force tremors to baby shivers.  "No thanks, I'm not sure I could stand seeing my wife cut into like that."

40 minutes, maybe an hour fifteen, I dunno.. a nurse sneaks up behind me... has this little handsome, bundled  like a burrito infant (handsome as, One, he's my damn kid, I'm biased, and Two, 'C-babies' don't face (literally) the trauma of going thru the birth Canal only to come out resembling a traffic cone. She says "Would you like to carry your son to the nursery,"

MOMENTS IN LIFE YOU WILL NEVER FORGET, that, was a huge one, and I never will forget.

Because I obviously enjoy writing, I started a journal that day on my son's life.  Spiral notebook.

The days of "lay him on the blanket there" were cinchy, but there are only so many 'coos' one can write before mundane happens. 

As the first couple three years happened, I penned, twas going ok until I realized the "please don't do that's" outnumbered the "Atta boys."

I stopped the journal.

Age 7, I think it was...MASSIVE snowstorm in Liberty, MO. 10? 12? Inches?

"Mom? Dad?. Can you take me to Jesse's?" (His cousin, 5 blocks to 291, cross the highway, another 4 blocks to Jesse's.  "NO, of course we can't.

Question, request was asked it's normal 7, 12 times, each met with No.

"I'm going out to play then."  We eyeballing 4 others on sleds, building snowmen, yada, "OK."

Checked a bit later.  All good. 

Not even 20 minutes later, phone rang.. a mostly frantic sister inlaw on the other end (the one that lives 5 blocks to 291, cross the highway, another 4 blocks)  "DRU JUST SHOWED UP AT OUR DOOR!" It's a wonder we weren't hauled in for child endangerment.

That, is kinda a microcosm of my, our son's life.

We are ALL human, he too. He admittedly pushed the envelope upon occasion, he could be a hardhead, that (hang on a sec...'knock-knock-knock'), yup, could possibly be due to heredity.

Summer, age 9. Third day after the school year ended, broke his right wrist. For a sports crazy baseball loving right hander, devastation. By week two, he was shooting free throws lefthanded WAY BETTER than his naturally lefthanded father ever did.

The next year. I was a teacher/coach ("Oh the games people play now", specifically PE teachers), anyways, I'd come home after 8 hours of jump-the-brook, hill dill and 2 hours of football or basketball practice, only to be met at the door of 305 Lee Drive by a cute little blond shit, ball bat and glove in hand.

My son was a foot or so shorter, at that age, than his buddies. I blame his mom, petite as could be and pretty as hell as could be.

We went. Bucket after bucket of fly balls, ground balls, batting practice. I'm talking SMTWTFS.

I could hit the ball damn high,  not far, but damn high. Due to his size, and the height of the fly, sometimes folks would stop and watch in amazement, as time after time the little shit measured the depth, height,  right or left, and it would fall gracefully in his glove. 

One of my favorite memories is of us, our little travel league 7th grade basketball team, had FINALLY made it to the championship game of a tournament. Eleven of us, nine kids all sizes and color, another dad, and I, right before the game, jumped in whatever the clunker it was I was driving at the time - and drove around and around and around the middle school parking lot with Queen's "We Are the Champions" totally cranked. Happy. It was happy, FUN.

Victor, you guys win? No, we got our butt's kicked (we were maybe not even the 4th best team there) but I can tell ya 11 people who will never forget that.

Our son Dru would go on to work many years for the Downtown Community Improvement District, providing security, maintenance and beautification to his sector of town.  It was similar to the USPS "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night" with a little less pay. He was proud  and annually he would gain a nifty Christmas bonus for perfect attendance. 

He fathered, a maybe partially biased grandfather would say, three of the most beautiful kids EVER!

Happy times, sad times, times of struggle. Every once in awhile he could struggle with patience so we'd give him a little of ours.

He had a very good sense of humor, called his father 'Shay...  Pops.... OG... and his favorite, Fat Boy'.

HE LOVED HIS CHILDREN LIKE CRAZY.

The last couple of years he lived with me.  He hasn't driven in almost 20 years, so.....

Daily, after I picked him up from his job at FedEx, we'd go on a looooong 'spin', talk about family, sports or life in general. We each looked forward to it.

We loved going to smaller towns, Smithville, Kearney, Weston, Oak Grove, Grain Valley, Lathrop, Cameron, Platte City, etc., and, we'd go Downtown on weekends, and retrace his steps there.

We had our favorites.. he Loved going to downtown Excelsior Springs (and I did too). My favorite was easily the airport where we'd park in the cargo area and watch planes land and takeoff.

My, our son Dru, had a series of strokes a week ago. Strokes, like much, are sadly hereditary too. He was on the road to improvement, walking laps around the hospital floor - and he was one day from going to a therapy facility for 12 days of speech, occupational and physical therapy.

I was enroute to the Hospital yesterday (Long John Silver 3 piece chicken, fries, Doctor Pepper in hand, per request) when my phone rang.  The Doctor, in his rounds, found him unresponsive.  More strokes, no brain activity.

Dru Worth Schultze, born July 3rd, 1985, passed away yesterday at 5:17pm, March 17, 2025, on his Grandma Velma's birthday.

He was a giver. Wanted to take me to lunch on payday..  bag of candy, where his dad would hoard, protect his, not Dru, he'd open it it, offer up, then eat some.

Hopefully that's hereditary too as he was an organ donor.

I will miss..  "WhatsUp Fat boy?"..  "You OK?"... and Fer sure the gleam in his eyes when he saw one of his kids. Him.

One nickname was Boot, because from early age on he had such a cute little Booty!

Never is a long time here on Earth and it happens so quick (many, many years too quick in this case.)

Love, like it might be the last time you'll see someone, Victor

Stuck in the middle...

Continental divide.

Together we stand, divided we fall

Come on now people, let's get on the ball and work together

Come on, come on, let's work together

Now now people

'Cause together we will stand ev'ry boy, girl, woman and man

A river runs through it. Two blondes, one on either side. One hollers, "How do I get to the other side?".. the other one replies, "You ARE on the other side!" MISOGYNIST! AM NOT!

Jump the brook. Your bench, their bench. This is your bucket first half, we switch at halftime.

This side, that side. A plumber,  up unner the sink.  Hatfield, McCoy. A quick descent to the chair in perty tight pants, rip/tear, oops. Turn the other cheek?

Tastes great. Less filling! You say goodbye and I say hello...

Before when things go wrong, as they sometimes will

And the road that you travel, it stays all up hill

Let's work together

Come on, come on, let's work together

Now now people

You know together we will stand, ev'ry boy, girl, woman and a man

Judge Judy. Jerry ("Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!) Springer.

MARCH (aprilmayjunejulyaugustseptemberoctobernovemberdecemberjanuaryfebruary) MADNESS.

Lefty loosey Righty tighty. 

See the USA in your Chevrolet. First On Race Day.

My side, your side, sleep number bed. "But where's the hound go?" Anywhere he, she wants.

Streaming. Cable. Analog. 

"You better cut the pizza in four pieces 'cause I'm not hungry enough to eat six", right Yogi?

Caste, religion, race, wealth.

Oh well now, two or three minutes, two or three hours

What does it matter now, if this time go round

Let's work together

Come on, come on

Let's work together, now people

'Cause together we will stand, ev'ry boy, every woman and a man

He said she said. No she didn't.

Call Roto Rooter... no, that ain't it, look it up on Snopes.

That fork in the road. Two-way traffic.

MMA? WWE?  CNN? FOX? FACEBOOK? PARLOR? Ain't it all scripted?

Economy, Healthcare, Supreme Court nominees, Foreign policy.

Coke. Diet Coke. Coke Zero. It's PEPSI YOU IDIOT!

Because together we will stand, ev'ry boy, girl, woman and a man

Well together we will stand, ev'ry boy, girl, woman and a man

Yeah...

Let's work together

Come on, come on

Let's work together

Come on, come on

It all kinda makes ya wanna take a Xanax. NO VICTOR! Try TM instead!

I'm gonna take a nap. NO VICTOR!  Treadmill, cardio is the answer.

Go West young man.  WHAT? Ain't you seen the Adirondacks? Catskills? Smokeys?

To the Moon Alice.  You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant.  

Vegan. Vegetarian.  Feed me Seymour. Mikey likes it. Molly don't. MISOGYNIST! AM NOT!

Doe, a deer, a female deer,

Ray, a drop of golden sun,

Me, a name I call myself,

Far, a long long way to run,

Sew, a needle pulling thread.

Beetlejuice begs, "Somebody help me... thread this needle."

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza dear Liza...

Then FIX IT, dear Henry, dear Henry.  

And Jack, Jill, Timmy, Tina, Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice.

Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah.   It's Alice. "Use the oven Dinah, don't use that Canned Heat."

"A table for two (Parties) please..   Last name Starving...

For UNIT(Y)ED STATES.

Love, Victurd

Who are WE?

Brothers.

Born: Minneapolis, MN.

From hereafter, oldest will be known as O, and of course, youngest, Y.

P, that's parents if you're keeping score, or, pee, if you're old like me and ya gotta, almost any, every, hour of the day. 

P: dad's ancestry Norwegian,  mom's German.

O: not a big fan of school, poor student, skipped class a lot to load, unload boxcars at the railway.. finally graduating.

Y: I was a sophomore when O was a senior and skipping school. I liked school and was a decent athlete if I do say so myself, as I was a two-time Minnesota State Champ in the 120 yard high hurdles.

Neither O or Y could hurdle WWII, and neither wanted to.

Y:  was in the Army. Reached the rank of corporal, and was awarded the American Campaign Medal, and, the World War II Victory Medal.

O: I wanted to be a Navy fighter pilot, but feared my eyesight was too poor to do so. Turns out, didn't matter, I'm 6'7" and the max to be a pilot was 6'2". So....

(O) "You're in the Army now"... I was a rifleman.  On January 22, 1944, we (2nd Platoon,  E Company, 7th Infantry Regiment,  landed on Anzio Beachead. They looked at me and said, "Hey you, the tall guy..  jump off the boat first so we can tell how deep the water is." (O continued below)

Made it ashore, and in the battle I was severely wounded in the leg..  they airlifted me from Italy, back to the US to a hospital in Clinton, Iowa. After several surgeries and a long hospital stay I was honorably discharged in January of 1945.  I dealt with chronic leg pain that could become acute, the remainder of my life, especially when I mounted horses. (Oops)

O: looooooong list of honors.. Bronze Stars (3), Purple Heart, WWII Victory Medal, and the Combat Infantryman  Badge.

Y: remember me? I got out of the Army, went to see my brother in the Hospital,  then enrolled at the University of Minnesota on the GI Bill.

O: after I finally got out of the Hospital,  I got a job as a radio broadcasting announcer at WLOL in Minneapolis... after awhile, got the itch to go into acting..  hitchiked, bad leg and all, to Hollywood. Knocked on every door, finally, in 1947 I got my first part, a real movie, The Farmer's Daughter, as her brother.

Y: Big brother didn't have nuttin' on me. In my career, I appeared in over 70 total films, TV shows and TV movies. Actually had a major role in the 1953 WWII film Stalag 17.

(More Y) My longest gig was a TV series from 1967 to 1973... and it was actually reprised in 1988 and I was the Lone Ranger (no...that ain't it.) I mean I was the only actor to return from the original series.

(Even more, Y) during the 50's, 60's, 70's, I played mostly serious roles. By the time the 80's rolled around I was ready to let my hair down, have some fun in a comedy. Two, actually,  ______!, and ______2: The Sequel. You might remember the line "What's your vector Victurd?" Oh, and that hint will self destruct in two minutes. There, another. Until I went to my grave, I used the last name of my mother's family to honor them.

O:  I appeared in a couple Sci-fi films, but my primary gigs were of the Western variety.  I lucked into playing supporting roles in quite a few movies with some guy named John Wayne. We became really good friends.

(Mo' O) in fact, my biggest gig ever, THE longest running primetime drama series in TV history (20 years)... anyways, it was rumored they initially offered the role to The Duke - not so, but it is true he recommended me for it.

(Yet more O).. you might remember Doc, Festus, Chester, Ms. Kitty, and some young blacksmith Quint. "Quint would later say "THE most fun period of my life" and I guess it musta been as he wrote the forward in my autobiography. 

(Still mo' O) my role was kinda stoic..   I no likey'd publicity (we banned reporters from the set). I did like Fun, capital F. One role actor said "He'd laugh from his toes to the top of his head, and that's a long way.  In fact, he'd get the giggles and we'd have to suspend shooting for awhile."

Y (Remember me?) They wanted to make a movie outta our TV series but I turned it down..  because, they wrote the script for me to be a traitor, kill 3 of my IMF buddies, and eventually get shot down, killed in a helicopter crash. Nope, nada, John Voight, you go ahead and do it.

Getting long, sorry.

Two, highly successful chaps, Brothers.

Mission Impossible, Airplane, Gunsmoke. Wow!

Peter Graves, born Peter Dussler Aurness, and..  James Arness, born James King Aurness. 

One of them, I read, was a very good friend of Dick Howser, MLB player, manager, but damn daddy I've read, reread, and I can't find which. Oh well, lollypop if anyone can find out which. Hell it mighta been Burt Reynolds, I dunno. Using a phone to blog drives me cRaZy, but you knew I'm cRaZy.  

Enjoy the day,

Love, what's your vector Victurd

Are we there yet, huh, are we are we?

What are your plans?

Are you like me.. same ole same ole stuff pretty much every day?

Enlighten me... is your brain exploring Booking.com for your dreams, desires, bucket list stuff?

Me, I've got a baby affliction (it ain't bad, I've just slowed down, have to chase slower women now), but, to that end, I'll play golf anytime, any temp, condition, because I can see, envision, know 'it's' coming (the day I eventually cant.) Stuff like that cross your brain, play into your plans?

I hope my buddy Randy won't whack me, and I don't think he will.  For quite a few years now, he's posted these really cool videos of his hound, Buddy, winding in and out of forest paths, by, around, over, through creeks (Randy follows with his all terrain,  GoPro camera) for the express purpose, intent of fun, exploration, and, grabbing the nicest stick to bring home, navigate back thru the woods. .. Randy's latest post, he wrote:

"Some things never change. Even though he’s getting older, he’s still a kid at heart. I hope we can all relate. We don’t need to grab the biggest stick anymore. Just grabbing a stick with a purpose in mind will give us pleasure. My purpose is the fire pit and his purpose is to keep me having to sharpen my mower blades. 🤣😂😜."

You go Buddy!  And Randy, you continue to follow, video as we all enjoy immensely!

Are you.... yes, you. Still a kid at heart?

Are you OK if your quest doesn't involve the biggest stick any longer?

Do you think, as you wind thru the roads of life, ie, following Buddy, playing golf, hitting the hay at night for that smooch and "night night", do you, in the back of your mind, think about knowing 'that day' will come, THUS, gaining a heightened appreciation,  vote of thanks for the ability to enjoy same ole same ole?

I sure as heck do.  Life can be a struggle.  

It is said, in golf, if you mentally think about your every move, you're toast.

While I very much struggle in golf (and don't really care that I do), knowing that last round will one day happen gives perfect impetus to put a smile on my face and fend off being a sour puss! And....hells to the nos I ain't perfect, SURE I slip.

I hope, I/we do the same (enjoy, appreciate, are thankful) as we wind these trails. 

Life is, can be, fulla shoulda woulda coulda.  Oh the games people play now (you? Me? Mebbe we slip up sometimes) resort to "ain't it awful?"... "Why me?".. yada.

Even with all the (sorry about the French) political shit we've endured the last however many years... 

There ain't no place better than here, today.

Lucky, we are.

Remind me from time to time, wouldya?

Keep chasing that stick Buddy...

Love, Victurd

Robot umps...

Say it ain't so....

I haven't really delved into full force... but I know experimentation is happening in Spring Training, 'ABS' (Automated Ball-Strike System)...

The ump still makes the call, but, the batter, pitcher or catcher has the right to tap their helmet... indicating 'challenging the call' (they get two per game)... they immediately use the camera image of the ball crossing the plate (or not.)

They've got the inside-outside call down. (Victor, this is boring... Bear wit' me, sorry) but it's the top and bottom of the zone they struggle with. Picture a short Jose Altuve and a grande' Aaron Judge.

Nonea that is my gripe.

Say it ain't so, but if it is, I will very much miss:

"You couldn't call a cab ump!"..  "Did you star in Weekend at Bernies"?...  and mebbe, 

"I thought only horses sleep standing up!"... "That was higher than a blouse at Mardi Gras!"

And my personal favorite (dangit Victor you've told this one. . Oh well)..  the college coach was on the umpire, griping and grunting nonstop for 6 innings..   he'd come from the dugout again..  escorted him back to the dugout... finally,  threw him outta the game... but,

Manager kept barking, staying in the field.   Ump finally eschewed "GO SOMEWHERE WHERE I CANT SEE YOU!"... And, of course.. 

Then, the manager walked directly to home plate and stood on top of it!

"Can it R2D2"... "You suck Mr. Roboto"... Just ain't got the same intrigue, passion, humor.

Upon further review....

Play ball...

I am human, hear me roar.

Someone suggested MLB hire female umpires.   They're never wrong. MISOGYNIST!  Wasn't me!  'Someone' suggested it!

With all the contention, dissention, present mood of our land, I've truly struggled to write.  I know I know, some may applaud that.

That said..  please don't take away the last bastion to yell, holler at someone without getting blocked on Facebook, ruffling relative feathers, yada.

3 blind mice. 3 blind mice.

Victor, no more mice jokes, you got to go...

Love, Victurd

A little ditty 'bout Jackie and Shadow..

Victor, that ain't it..  it's Jack and Diane.. 

Well... (That's a deep subject)..

Well, Jackie and Shadow are actually bald eagles.  Happy ones.  They live high up in a tree...  

In Big Bear Valley.. which sets inside the San Bernardino National Forest in Southern California. 

They, unwittingly, are the stars in the newest reality show.

Some time ago, I don't remember anything about Shadow and wearin' Bobbie Brooks, don't think she was..

Jackie gonna be, a football star?  Play for the Eagles?  Ahm, no.

The two were suckin' on a chilled herron outside the big trees...  Shadow's sittin' on Jackie's lap, turns his beak out to see...

Jackie says "Hey Shadow, let's run off to the top of that shady tree."

Or, however it happened.

Love and herron, love and herron, go together like a horse and a carriage.. this I tell you brother, you can't have one without the other.

Shadow consented.  They'd been flyin' down the road, tryna loosen their load... ie, wanted to Take It Easy.. you know, Eagles.

Plop plop plop, 3 eggs. Victor, you misogynist, you're gonna catch hell from women for that.  Ok, lemme rephrase.

Her feathers in a dander, on end.. frantic, fear, OUCH, near hatred in her eyes, Shadow then pointed a talon claw at Jackie and screamed, "DAMN YOU!  THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" (Plop, plop, plop. .. or something like that.)

36 days later:  Pip. Pip.

Gladys Knight?

No. Pips are baby pecks that put a small tear in the egg, as if to say, "Lemme outta here!"

Two, greeted the World yesterday.  They are the cutest, ugliest, fuzziest damn things you ever saw!

So..  24/7, they have a cam on them. I trust your Googling skills if you'd like to track them down. You can also look at my Facebook post just before this. (If it's dark-thirty, or, ya can't see the eaglets cause mom or dad are sittin on em, you can 'rewind' to an earlier hour.)

Could be too, ya just ain't into this. I get a peaceful easy feeling you'd simply prefer Sudoku, Fox/CNN, Judge Judy, Aunt Bea and Ope. I'm good with that.

But, Desperado, I could be wrong..  you and the Witchy Woman (MISOGYNIST! AM NOT!) might even wanna Take It To The Limit, drive over them Seven Bridges, get ya a California Hotel, or sumpin like that..    simply to see for yourself, what, you know in these days of Lyin Eyes, ya never know.

Wiki done tells me Bald Eagles ain't really bald. That's derived from an older meaning if the word, "white-headed."

"The sexes are identical in plumage, but females are about 25% larger than males." MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT, THAT WAS WIKI!

Ok, I'll get out of your hair.  I, personally, am fascinated by this, the cam..  and Eagles in general.  They make THE biggest nests of any bird, impressive.

A little ditty 'bout Jackie and Shadow... two American Eagles doin' the best they can..

Forward by Joe Walsh, Don Henley, Glenn Frey, and two Eagle Scouts

Love, Victurd

Bad boy bad boy watcha gonna do..Therapy...

Seeing someone in the aisle of the Piggly Wiggly that makes ya wanna run to 'em, not away from.

Table and chairs really aren't too exciting, but... fill 'em with good friends, family, no reason to keep checking your watch..  the table and chairs become magical. 

A hound's tail, a kitty cat's indifference...

Barney Fife, Weeee Doggies Jed Clampett... Conway, Burnett and also Harvey Korman - the only man to become a zillionaire simply by holding in burst at the seams laughter as long as he could.

Us geezers, running,  actually running in Wally World, after holding in burst at the seams tinkle as long as we could.

A full Mickey D's bag, and, "Hey, they didn't forget nuthin."

A song on the radio (Sirius for you uptown ones) that takes you to a happy time, place, age, along with the faces of who was there, then. Bad boy bad boy whatcha gonna do? SING those damn lyrics, even if they ain't right!)

A photo album, much like the table, chairs above, unfilled, none too exciting.  Fill it. Go back. Yum. A mixture of happy, a pinch of sad, and a note of thanks to whomever took the time to snap and develop the pics.

Among the best presents I ever got (ballglove, 8ish, clock radio, age 9ish).. a simple envelope of family pics a loved one had around the house (71ish), and the specifics of knowing those times musta meant a lot to the giver as well.

Lasagna, Fritos (Chili Cheese or regular, dont matter), a fall off the peel tangerine in fronta me (at least for me anyways, figure you got your own yummy list)..  a grandkid's face, hidden behind a vanilla cone.

24/7 in that it means we're still here (QT and the Awful Waffle are open), but, perhaps the bestest are the pink and light orange hues of sunrise, sunset.

When the key, Fob, EV allows one to go, (almost) the first time, everything.

Waves, hugs, smiles, fist bumps, preceded by the how you thankfully got to know that person.

Friend's list, Facebook, phone contact, even just simply the ones up there in the noggin.

Simple, easy. Elation, exhaustion upon completion of hard.

When your child, grand, friend, buddy, coworker, maybe even boss, asks, "Where ya going?", followed by, "I'm 72, any damn where I wanna."

The ability to sense, restless, are we there yet are we huh huh? And, reply...

OK, OK, OK.. 

But, before ya go... you point out, none of the good above has anything to do with which lever one pulls on election day... what color, orientation, yada yada one is.. where ya came from..  the figures on one's receipt from the bank...

Happy is happy.

If. .

We let it be.

Right John, Paul, George, Ringo?

And if you can't be, with the one you love... love the one you're with... unless, ya done said them 'I do's'. We all understand what makes grass greener.

By Henry Gibson

Love, Victurd