On a Friday in 1961...

Victor, I think you've told this one before.

Give a break, give me a break, break me off a piece...'cause I was 9 then, 64 years ago.

Friday, 1961... cousin Joyce, then an 8th grader.  Science teacher say, "Go home this weekend, get a partner... comeback Monday with your idea for an invention for the future.

Her, partner, did. They proudly, creatively, drew up a picture of a 'portable phone' with a screen on it, and you could actuality see the person you were talking to on the other end. 

Hanna-Barbera you ain't got nuttin' on my cuz because your 'I can see you' video computer call on the Jetsons didnt happen until later on the 60's.

Teach collected the ideas... browsed through them... Tweren't 20 minutes later, teach, peering down with her eyes over her bifocals, incredulous look on her face, uttered, "Never happen.  Take a couple days, come back Wednesday with a realistic idea."

Bummer.

(Not so fast forward) "Sarah, ring me Aunt Bea please."

My Grandmother's Bible. She recorded historic events, births, snowfalls, yada, in the margins of he Bible: "1958... Darrell (my cuz), age 3, dialed his own phone number."

19-fitty-nine, a phone booth at a YMCA in Durbin, South Africa, 25, that's TWENTY-FIVE students stuffed themselves in a phone booth for the record.

"Hello"..  "Ralph?"  "No, sorry, this is Steve.. we've got a party line. Please hang up, call back, I won't answer, hopefully Ralph will."

"Honey, you GOTTA watch how long you talk to so-and-so in Texas, our long distance bill is $79.43 cents!" (Back then, hella lot.)

Pagers.

Bag phones

MOM!  She's STILL on AOL, I've GOT to make a phone call!

And Paul Harvey to today.

iPhones for you rich and famous, Androids for poor poor pitiful me's.

This and that. First cell call ever, April 3rd, 1973. First text message "Merry Christmas".  I was kinda hoping it was a Selfie Pic, along with the verbiage "See teach?! Toldya!"

We look at our phones 150 times per day, that's up from 80-something I'd Googled not too many years back.  Hell, think how the divorce rate might dwindle if only we looked at our spouse 150 times a day. (Ahm Victor?  Yes? Might have the opposite effect.)

Scooby Dooby Doo says "Rut Roh" as the vast majority of cell phones are made in China.

Nomophobia is an addiction to your cell phone.

I enjoy watching a Major League Baseball game... noticing THE person behind the catcher who looks at their phone more than the batter.  THEN, I go online, look at ticket prices for that specific seat in that specific stadium to see how much money she wasted. (MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT! ARE TOO! HOLY SH*T $347!!!

Ahm Victor? Pot, kettle? Ain't you the one I saw at The Landing a few nights back, drinking a $5 beer playing Sudoku on your phone?  Sorry,  can't hearya, we gotta bad connection.

I just called, to say, I love you.  867-5309. (Don't forget Junior's number BR-549). K, won't.  

Not to be confused with Beechwood 4-5789.   Operator. 

We're so sorry, Uncle Albert, but if anything should happen we'll be sure to give a ring.

Call Roto Rooter that's the name..

"Hello, baby!

Yeah, this is the Big Bopper speakin'!

Oh, you sweet thing!

Do I what?

Will I what?

Oh baby, you know what I like!"

This whole dayum blog idea went haywire. Original plan was to relate how Spectrum recorded me, during the sale of the wifi/streaming package they sold me for such and sucha a price. "Will it have FanDuel so I can watch The Royals?"  Uh huh.

Two boxes overnighted, a kajillion cords connected, two packs'a cigs during same, YEAH BABY, connected, cold one in hand, recliner reclined. Gametime, yeah baby!

Uh oh.

"Press 1 for English."

"I see you're calling from....is that the number on the account you're calling about?

YES.

"Allright, in a few words, please tell us why you're calling.  You can say things like 'tech support... billing..." I AINT GOT FANDUEL!

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand."  Representative". So I can connect you to the correct person.. could you, in a few words..  REPRESENTATIVE!

Please hold,  your aproximate wait time is 38 minutes.

So, first guy wanted $10 more a month.  Nuh uh, go listen to the recording, better yet, can I speak to your supervisor?

This is Lea.  How can I help you?  Pete, repeat, "recorded, promised FanDuel, I ain't got FanDuel."

"Well that's $10 more a month."

Please check the recording.

Victor. You are arguing over $10?  Uh huh, that's a 15-pack of Natty Light a month.

So. Sales reps. Manager Lea.  Now, her manager, whatever his name is. MISOGYNIST! AM NOT!

Stay tuned.

Item #7 on scavenger hunt: Take a picture of a phone booth. 'Wherethehell we gonna find onea those?'

Call me, we'll catchup.

Love, Victurd

Doc, it hurts when i do this...

Uh huh, sure... the pat answer is "Don't do that."  Cha ching, total cost to become a medical doctor nowadays in excess of $300,000.

Victor?  Don't say that!  Don't you know all the good doctors do? You don't know why we need them?

Of course I do. Then don't do that.  Don't say that.

Close your ears: I don't really like the word don't. 

Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Yes, like every other wet behind the ears (we think, anyways, couldn't really see if they were wet) 19, 20-something redblooded dude in the 70's, I had long hair, wore them flared pants, thought I/we, were pretty cool.

May sound like a hippy, don't (there you go again), don't really think I was... .

But...  

The hippies learnt me disdain for the word, command, listen here Mister, (Hitleristic?), DON'T!.

It was them, the damn hippies! They always answered with "Why not?"

As I write this from Apartment #2 in this big ole house converted into 3 tiny apartments...had I been more compliant along the way (I think them hippies mentioned something about a brown nose) I'd prolly be living on Ward Parkway where the lots are bigger'n a football field and you'd need an 8-roll thinga toilet paper just so each bathroom had a roll.

Oh well.

Do not pass go. One Google thing said ya don't use don't in formal writing, you should use Do Not instead. Why not? Nevermind. 

Don't ask. Don't knock it till you tried it. Don't remind me. Don't touch that dial. If you don't mind me asking... (Cheech, or Chong, damn hippies, might say "But I do.")

Rock the boat, oh don't rock the boat (baby). 

Victor, I'm getting a bit dizzy what with all these don'ts. Don't interrupt me.

Don't go chasing waterfalls

Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to

I know that you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all

But I think you're moving too fast.

But I like waterfalls. Don't, er.. try not to lecture me.

Don't bring me down. Don't worry, be happy.

Don't give me that. Don't ask. I don't have all day. Don't you dare.

SIR! Don't do that!  You only get ONE glass for Communion! Hiccup.

Don't play the music SO LOUD!

BITE ME:  Don't go breaking my heart.  Don't stop me now. Don't let me down. Don't stop the music. Don't stop. (That's a song by Fleetwood Mac... hippy might ask "Don't stop WHAT?")

Victor, DON'T tell that one again.

Bite me.

1993-ish. T ball. 7, 8 yr Olds.  I was the head "No, don't do that, your left hand goes on the bottom of the bat, not the right", head coach.

My assistant. Nice dude. Vice President of our local, small, faith based college . Quiet man. He wanted no part of forefront.

His son Buzzy, not so much.  Buzzy was cuter than Mikey Likes It, Theodore Cleaver, Pebbles OR Bam BAM. Big ole brown eyes, smile as wide and perty like an upside down rainbow.

Buzzy was ADHD before they ever abbreviated it to match the attention span.

He was in right centerfield. Well, at least till the next batter, then he was over in leftfield high fiving him. The "I wanna remain inconspicuous" dad, Dan... eeked out "Buzzy, dont do that, get back in right center."

Buzzy, the walking, talking energy drink was oblivious. Next better found him giving a quick spank on the hiney of the first baseman.  Dad Dan upped the 'font size' by one, "Buzzy! Don't!"

Didn't phase ole Buzz. Next three batters found him pulling 3rd baseman Kaylee's hat down over her eyes... doing a Chinese fire drill around the leftcenter fielder, and finally, running to second base only to lay down and cover up the base so the batter-runner couldn't touch it.

Dad Dan, sweating pretty profusely, upped his game...

BUZZY! DON'T!... then, BUZZY! DON'T!.. then finally BUZZY!  DON'T... OR ELSE!

It felt, to Dan, like half our small town was watching. There were a lot of us and we all were on our feet, trying to keep from laughing at Buzzy's antics..  but also on pins and needles awaiting Ole Buzz's response to OR ELSE!

It finally came.  OR ELSE WHAT  DAD?

I peed a bit, but that's normal for me.  Most entertainment I'd ever had at a ballgame.

The roar of 'I can't hold the laughter anymore' covered up Dad's response.

I think... original hippies like Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Cheech, Chong woulda loved that.

Don't you?

Love, Victurd

Passion

Pervert.

This ain't no kiss and tell kinda.  I mean, after all it's been since.. VICTOR!  STOP!

Ah damnit, you're supposed to say "DON'T STOP!", no comma.

I'm kidding I'm kidding.

This ain't about that kinda passion.... well, I guess it could be, but that wasnt uppermost in thought.

I. Love. Passion. In. People.

Situations. 

College game day on TV. Young'ns proudly displaying the colors, name, mascot of their institution, shaking, frantically waving their 'we're #1' finger, basically what some might call, "acting a fool."

Been there. Loved that.  Band camp, I think I was a fraternity pledge. Campus of Billy Jewell, old Brown Gym, 

barely enough room for a court, let alone bleachers. I had to (got to) wear a gorilla costume.

I remember running, doing a flip (ie, amped up cause I don't think I knew how to turn a flip.) Once landed, I wasn't sure if I was staring North, East, unsure of exactly where (which side) I came running from. This much I remember. Passion. (It's was 'Hell Week', it mighta had something to do with the two warm Buckhorns the 'actives' forced me to chug prior, ain't sure.)

Bottomline, or hell,  could be top line, I wasn't sure if I was on my hands or my feet: Yum. Passion. All important. 

Sports. There's passion in sports. No, there ain't no such thing as 110% effort... win one for the Gipper, maybe. I recall a basketball coach, team was sluggish, jogging, not offering great effort. "Time out."

The 5 on the court came to the sideline. Coach told 'em to stare at the 7, seated in chairs. "Now you, tell me, howintheheck am I to justify lollygagging, jogging back on D, getting beat to the baseline, to these 7 sitting here?" (Put me in Coach, I'm ready to play. Today. Look at me.

Oh yeah, that's a song.

We've talked passion in sports. Oh baby, is there passion in song. Music.

Those on stage..   first comes to mind, women-belter-outers. Joan Jett, "Singing, I love rock and roll, so put another dime in the jukebox baby, I love rock and roll, so come and take your time and dance with me, Ow!

Mebbe Chrissie Hynde, The Pretenders, and:

Gonna use my arms, 

Gonna use my legs,

Gonna use my style, 

Gonna use my sidestep,

Gonna use my fingers,

Gonna use my, my, my imagination.

Yum. Passion. Total brain concentration on the moment, I don't give a damn what else is happening.  ("We're gonna be late for church... the toast is burning!... the dogs gotta pee") NOT TILL AFTER THIS SONG IS OVER!  YUM!!!

Sorry, kinda, not really.

(At this very moment, I have a candle lit. If I have to pee, I take my phone with me - flashlight) Mother Nature is PO'ed about sumpin, power out all about town, THUNDER THUNDER, THUNDERATION.  Holy guacamole,  there is passion in WEATHER!.

Back to sports for a second. Parents of Littles. How fun. Moms (or dads) in lawn chairs.  Next time you take in a little league came, take a listen.  I bet you'll hear a parent repeat something like "Keep your eye on the ball Jimmy, eye on the ball." "Bat on the ball, bat on the ball, Gabe."... "Why?  They say things, twice, not sure why. They say things twice, not sure why. Lost, completely lost in passion, and I love it.

Little Johnny called out on strikes. Dad, "Keep em up ump, keep em up." Ie, I'm passionate that you blew the call, I'm an accountant by trade, but I know better'n you.

How did Austin Powers put it? YEAH, BABY!

Passion gives us momentary break away from blue, rue, woe, not enuff dough, 3 regular tires and a donut, a flunked spelling test, no pay raise on evaluation day, yada....crap.

"Put me back on hold please, I really liked that song."

Sure, love. Politics. Our kids, family. Hounds and kitties, friends, a cause, the Bible, quilting, decoupage, yada, much.

Passion lends good reason to be here, to enjoy, smile, love, breathe.

"Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends, so Oh Lord, won't you buy me, a Mercedes Benz?  That's it!" (Cackle)

Right Janis?  Passion is life, we gots to live it thataway, recognize it, appreciate it.

Put another dime in the jukebox baby.

Love, and marriage...

No, that ain't it..  sorry Peg, sorry Al.

Love and passion, Victurd

"I played high school football!"

Paul Harvey... Good day

The rest of the story...

Whenever we roll outta bed, or, in my case, waddle - if that's a word, we are everpresent in creating our own the rest of the story.

So few, really really know the rest of the (our) story.

Naturally, I think suffice to say, I personally am so thankful for those few who truly, really really know, me.

Those who might say words like "self-care", as in, take care of yourself... they wing superlatives, and, send genuine love when they say, "I disagree with you on that. "

You there, Yeah you. .. who are your "they really really know you's"?  Larry? Terry?  Pup?  Tip? Joyce, Liz? Vicki? David? Bear? Pie? Susan? Jeanne? Big'n? All'a'ya. (If I missed ya, you're in thst 'All'a'ya'!

Rewarding ain't it?

The "to the moon", "got'yer back" kind.

Today is the first day of the rest of our Lives. Or, as we MIZ-ZOU fans might rejoice after yet another KU loss, hearing Bill Self say "We're 0 and 0 now."

Who areya...

Where ya gonna go...

Whadda ya gonna do...

Are you gonna be a harbinger of love, smiles,  hugs, fun, smartass remark,.... or, an occasional sourpuss like me?

Spread the love baby!

Smile, even if your teeth are smokestained yeller like mine!

Pet a dog (their rest of the story is even shorter than ours.)

Sell a Lincoln. Huh? Just seeing if L&L is still awake!

Boost, if you see down.

Hesitate, before them words sneak out. Weigh. Think.

That's all I got today.

I'm off to work on the rest of the story, which of course begins at the john to pee.

Love peace and soul... for the rest of the story.

Good day

Victurd Harvey