It costs $54 to be admitted to the confines of Memorial Stadium for a Nebraska football game.  Confines is right.  Fans in the North Stadium where we sit are packed tighter than sardines in a can. 

To get to Seat 13, Row 61, Section 36B you have to climb dozens of steps.  It used to be mainly ramps, but thanks to the ‘finite’ wisdom of Steve Pederson, the man who brought us Bill Callahan, it is now virtually all steps.  And of course, what goes up must come down.  By the time I am 1/3 of the way down those 60 odd steps my brain is repeating over and over “Are you insane?”  When I finally reach ground level and as I am making the endless climb to walk over the viaduct by the stadium my mind has decided I am definitely insane.  Walking the mile plus to the lot our car is in, a privilege we paid $10 for, the arthritis in my knees told me “you will pay for this.”

Of course before I ever got to leaving the game to go home there was the matter of standing for nearly 3 ½ hours. Does any other NCAA football program have fans that stand even more when the defense is on the field than they do when the offense has the ball? I did sit down during time outs and half-time, but most of the rest of the game was spent standing, rooting on the Huskers.  In the past I have lost my voice for days cheering the Huskers to defeat Oklahoma, so when I start feeling my cheers become a little raspy-like in the first quarter of last night’s game-I stopped yelling so much and let my hands and arms do the cheering.  Arm thrusts and high fives were the rule of the day.  And there were many, many of each.

My knees are aching today, and I feel all of my 59 years, plus a dozen or so more of someone else’s.  But I am so glad I went to the game.  Offensively it was not a thing of beauty, but like 99% of Nebraska fans, I love defense, and time after time the Husker defense thwarted the Sooners.  I have said our defensive line is one of the best in the country, and that remains so. I also said the rest of the defense was average, and I have to change my opinion on that.  They are not great yet, but they are good.  Put the package together and you have a great defense that held Oklahoma to only three points.  Stats may be fun for numbers people like me, but as Coach Bo Pelini said after the game “it is all about making plays, making enough plays to win the game.” And the Huskers did that on offense and defense.

Is the achy knees, sore back, and stiff body today worth the thrills of last night?  Oh yeah.  That was Oklahoma we beat, and I was one of 85,000 twelfth men who contributed to the victory. That may be difficult for someone who is from Nebraska to understand.  But like Louis Armstrong said about jazz, “if you don’t feel it, I can’t explain it.” And to share this memory with my son is something I will always cherish. Thanks Matt.

Goodness knows we still have a long road to travel before we can are even a good offensive team, but if the offense will just make a few plays, we can win out, at least to the Big 12 championship game.  The old cliché is in control of our destiny, and the Huskers are in control of their destiny this season.  Two weeks ago it looked like disaster.  Now?  Next week in Lawrence will give us part of the answer.

Thanks for stopping by.

Quite often I wake up in the middle of the night with strange thoughts.  I doubt many people will lay claim to waking up thinking of how many Snickers candy bars are sold every day, but I did last Saturday. 

According to the Mars Candy website, 15 million Snickers are produced each day.  I don’t know the break down of bite sized vs. regular sized candy bars.  If 15 million Snickers are produced every day it seems likely that 15 million are sold each day as well. 

According to the Mars Candy website 99 tons of peanuts are used each day in making Snickers. The site also says an average of 16 peanuts go into each candy bar. 16 peanuts per bar x 15 million bars per day = 240,000,000 peanuts a day.  That is a lot of peanuts.

Though Snickers is the largest selling candy bar in the world, M & M’s are more famous.  Over 400 million of the chocolate candies are produced each day.  The Mars website says a single M & M is called a lentil.  That sounds healthy enough.

Snickers and M & M totals pale in comparison with sales of Coca-Cola products.  Over 705,000,000 Coca-Cola products are served each day.  If my calculating skills are correct, that is over 3 ½ billion Coke products served each week, or 182 billion products served in a year.  That certainly is not peanuts.

I will admit to consuming some of the products I just mentioned, even though I am not supposed to.  It makes me less of a hypocrite when I say a manufacturer’s tax on snack food could produce hundreds of millions if not billions of dollars to help fund health insurance programs that would cover all Americans.

A penny tax to snack food companies on each item produced would not really effect consumption.  A penny per snack item per day passed on to consumers would cost what for the average consumer?  A nickel?  A dime?  That seems like a small price to pay for universal healthcare.

Yes, this post is silly, and the thought of a snack food tax is silly.  However, it is no sillier than some of the ideas of our politicians and not self-serving as the schemes of businesses in the healthcare industry. I wonder what crazy thoughts those people wake up with in the middle of the night.

Thanks for stopping by.

I took a brief trip to my long ago past this afternoon.  I am not sure who was guiding me, or exactly why I took the journey, just that I did.

I stopped to get meds at the local pharmacy.  It isn’t that close to the cemetery where my Dad is buried, but it is about as close as I normally would get to it.  I drove to the cemetery and spent a little time there, talking with my Dad, feeling an emptiness that does not want to go away. 

After leaving the cemetery I drove to my old neighborhood.  I don’t remember the last time I did this, which is strange because it is only blocks away from where I work.  Block after block seemed different.  Wasn’t there a house there, where that vacant lot is now?  I remembered that house as being bigger.  I know the garden by the Burlington Railroad tracks was much bigger.

So was the yard at our old house.  How could it seem so small now?  I mowed that yard many times, and it was not small.  There were eight trees in the yard, always a pain to mow around.  Now only two trees remain.  The garage looks the same, but the driveway seems smaller.  Much to my Dad’s disgust I threw rubber balls off the garage every spring and summer and broke countless boards.  In the winter our driveway was the basketball court for an entire neighborhood.  It doesn’t look big enough to go five on five anymore.

My Uncle Bob’s house was next to ours.  It too seems almost tiny.  The apple tree in his yard is long gone, and what I always thought was a large vegetable garden doesn’t seem so big either.

I drove to Washington Elementary School the way I walked or rode my bike for so many years.  It seemed further then.  The old Westside School-I always thought it was haunted, though that didn’t stop us from breaking in-has been torn down, and the school yard is now four Habitat for Humanity homes. 

There was a church that is now a home.  Interesting.  There was the house of a girl I sometimes walked to school.  Across the street was the house of a bully I always tried to avoid.  There was a Mom and Pop grocery store.  It’s just a house now, and doesn’t seem like it ever could have been an important part of the neighborhood.  Down the street is an old bicycle shop, now someone’s small home. Next door is the house where another girl I had a crush on lived, and a block away stands the home of my first Cub Scout den mother. 

Now I came upon the scene of my infamous bike crash.  My younger brother and I were racing home from school when I turned a little wide at a corner, hit a piece of broken curb and went airborne.  Physically I went airborne.  The bike came to an abrupt stop and I flew over the handle bars.  My brother thought I was dead or worse, and he rode his bike home even faster, bringing back my Dad in his pick-up.  I wasn’t dead, not even any broken bones, just two scraped up arms, and two legs scraped even worse.  My Dad wasn’t pleased I bent the front wheel of my bike, but I was crying enough he didn’t yell at me.

Finally, Washington School.  Finally?  It is barely a half-mile from my old house, yet years ago it seemed like it was ten times further, especially in the winter.  Boots, gloves, a winter coat, a stocking cap, and I still nearly froze.  It was probably carrying a lunch pail that slowed me down.  There was no such thing as school lunch back in the 50’s.  My Mom packed a bologna sandwich (if we were lucky it was Lebanon bologna, very spicy), a few potato chips, a piece of cake, and milk in a thermos. 

The school lunch room doubled as the gym, and it seemed so big then.  The last time I was there I couldn’t believe we actually played basketball in such a tiny space.  The demographics of the neighborhood have changed.  Most of the kids attending Washington School are Hispanic.  However, just like when I was growing up, they are mostly poor.  I wish I had the wherewithal to give a lot of money to that school.  It was there I learned to love learning, where my passion for words began.  I wish everyone going to that school would have the opportunities I had, but I know they won’t.  Many of my old friends didn’t either.

Again I do not know why I made the trip today.  I have never forgotten my roots.  I was born and raised blue collar middle class, and those values will never leave me.  I lived south of the tracks in Fremont, the “poor” side of town, and to this day I appreciate being raised where I was, and all the lessons I learned because of it.  No, I did not take this sentimental journey to remind me where I came from.  In just a handful of minutes I relived scenes I didn’t even realize my mind had stored away, and thought of people I had not thought of in forty years. I am glad I took the trip; I just don’t know why I steered my car in the direction I took.

I am glad you took the trip with me.  Thanks for stopping by.

I just finished a **** burger for lunch.  If you never ate a **** burger, you have missed out on one of the world’s greatest culinary pleasures.  A **** burger is a spicier, greasier sloppy joe.  If the bottom bun is not at least half-sopped in grease, it cannot be a true **** burger.  Until I got married, I lived on **** burgers while I was in college. 

A & W in Fremont, Nebraska was the only place I found ****’s in the late 60’s and early 70’s.  It was a sad day for me when this early fast food restaurant went out of business.  For years I thought I had tasted my last ****, but then discovered that Nifty 50’s had the recipe and I was able to rediscover this meal time treat.  The Nifty 50’s version tastes great, but the restaurant is just a little off on the grease-their sandwich is greasy, just not quite greasy enough. If you’re ever in Fremont, check out the restaurant across from the football stadium on East Military.  Ask for extra napkins if you order the *** burger though.

No, **** burger is not the actual name of the sandwich.  I realized that the actual sandwich name is more than a little racially insensitive. It was named in the 50’s, when saying “I Like Ike” was a politically correct statement. Bob Griese was suspended by ESPN for one week for making an unfortunate comment about NASCAR driver Juan Pablo Montoya, and rightfully so. My only purpose in this post is to convey my love for a sandwich, one I probably should not even look at, let alone eat. It tastes great and is most definitely NOT less filling. I think I’ll just call it a loose meat sandwich, or sloppy joe.

I have always wanted to do my own version of John Steinbeck’s Travels With Charley, or William Least Heat Moon’s Blue Highways. Traveling with no particular place to go and nothing special to do has great appeal for me. Maybe I could combine this wanderlust with a search for the perfect loose meat sandwich/sloppy joe and create a reality TV show.

I could let the Food Channel foot the bill for me as I go from small town to big city in search of that special loose meat sandwich with just the right amount of spices and a lot, though not too much, grease.  Nifty 50’s would be the benchmark that some other restaurant would have to better. Would I find a spicy, greasy sandwich that makes me smile in Wyoming or Montana, or San Francisco or Chicago? Maybe a loose meat bonanza in Charlotte would make me want to move to North Carolina. 

I always say “bucket list” and have put together dozens of scenarios for a road trip around the U.S.  Trouble is I have a job.  Yeah, one of those.  Yes, I do know I am fortunate to have one.  I suspect the job will get me before the spicy, greasy loose meat sandwich, and that will probably be before my long, long road trip.

What is wrong with the Nebraska football team?  Make that the NU offense.  The Cornhusker defense is just fine.  The defensive line may well be the best in the nation, and the other seven defenders are at least adequate.  To say the offense sucks is giving it way too much credit though. Lowly Texas A & M who lost to K-State by 48 points, managed to score 52 points yesterday against a Texas Tech defense that allowed us only 10 points.

What is wrong is pretty simple, what it will take to correct the problem isn’t.  In only one quarter of the last three games did NU have 11 offensive players “playing” at the same time.  It seems the offensive line has forgotten the entire purpose of them being on the field is to block.  They are supposed to create holes for running backs to gain yards, or get in the way of those who want to do harm to the quarterback.  They are not supposed to be flagged for holding at the most inopportune times.  Nor are they supposed to merely stand around looking fat.  If that was all it took, I could be an offensive lineman for the Huskers.

The Nebraska receiving corps has no “go to” receiver unless go to means someone who will drop passes thrown in their direction.  In that case they have at least six go to receivers.  Big play receiver Niles Paul alternates good plays with very bad plays.  Yesterday he found a way to do both on the same play.  For the second week in a row a Paul fumble was devastating.

The Nebraska quarterback is not a threat to run.  Opposing teams have that figured out.  He is a threat to throw behind receivers, which led to one of Nebraska’s four inside the five yard line turnovers yesterday.  He is also a threat to throw the football three feet over a receivers head. Apparently Zac Lee’s back-up, freshman Cody Green, is not at all ready to lead the team when the results are still in doubt. After the Texas Tech game it appeared a quarterback controversy was brewing in Lincoln, but all fans got on Saturday was the same old cup of coffee.

Then we have Offensive Coordinator Sean Watson.  The buck has to stop somewhere.  If the offense is playing poorly, playing timidly, and not executing, who is to blame? Well, yes, the players have to accept responsibility, but who is the person who is supposed to ensure that very talented players execute properly and play aggressively?  That would be the coach.  He is a left over from the Callahan era, so he already has one strike against him.  His retort to a reporter-“Did you ever play the game?”-is a second in my book.  I’ve never been a chef, but I know a bad steak when I bite into one.  I’ve never been a plumber, but I figure I have a problem if the toilet backs up.  I have never been a skunk, but I know when something stinks. And something stinks in the NU football program.

Only a few Thursdays ago Nebraska football fans pictured a 10-2 Husker team fighting Texas in December for the Big 12 championship, losing only to Oklahoma, and that game was a toss-up.  Iowa State, Baylor, and K-State all looked like sure things.  Colorado was close to a sure thing.  Texas Tech and Kansas were road blocks that could be overcome.  After losses to Tech and Iowa State, no game looks like a sure thing, not even Baylor.  Next week’s game is being played at Whacko, ‘er Waco, and the Cornhuskers might be just what a struggling Bear team needs to feed on for a victory.  A Kansas offense won’t score a lot of points against the NU defense, but they don’t have to.  Oklahoma has the best defense we will play against this year.  If we can’t score against out-manned Iowa State, don’t count on an offensive outburst against OU.  K-State, the team everyone was saying did not have Big 12 caliber of players is now leading the incredibly inept Big 12 North.  The Colorado game is in Boulder, and even the great Nebraska teams have struggled in the mile high air.  Suddenly 7-5 or 6-6 doesn’t seem unlikely.  A December bowl instead of a New Year’s bowl game seems to be the NU destination. 

A big red question mark should be stamped on the Husker offense.  There are lots of questions, and it seems like there are no answers.  I hope that Pelini, Watson, Cotton, et al can come up with some answers soon.  If not, we are in for four long Saturdays, and a post-Thanksgiving upset stomach. Showing unity, players can come on the field arm in arm game after game.  That doesn’t matter much if all eleven offensive players are not playing as one to get NU into the end zone.

Thanks for stopping by.

It’s another dank, dark, dreary day in the nation’s heartland.  If I didn’t have a calendar sitting on my desk I would swear it is November, not just past mid-October.  I wish I was sitting on the sand at Ipanema Beach in Rio right now.  OK, I also wish I was 40 years younger and had a body that would not cause all the other beach-goers to convulse in laughter.

I wish I were leaving on a jet plane, and not knowing when I would be back again.  I would love to hop on my private jet and fly to San Francisco to see my daughter.  Yeah, I know I don’t have a private jet.  Well, I wish I could get on a Southwest or United or American jet and head to San Francisco to see my daughter.  OK, so it is just my daughter’s dream to live in San Francisco.  She still lives in Nebraska.  Why can’t I dream that she has fulfilled her dream and I am going to visit her?

Actually, I wouldn’t mind living in San Francisco part of the year.  Every time I have visited I feel like my soul is being rejuvenated the second I step off the airplane.  I have tried Otis Redding’s idea of sitting on the dock of the bay, and while his experience was melancholy, mine was not.  I love to people watch and there is no better place on earth to watch people.  The bay is almost freaky with activity.  One moment a huge ocean going container ship passes by, and in its wake you might see a sail boat, or even a kayak.  In an essay no one seemed to like I mentioned that it would be wonderful if humans if humans could only follow the example of ships and boats and get along.

If I lived in San Francisco I wouldn’t wear a flower in my hair, but I would eat at the McDonalds on Haight Street.  How ironic to see the golden arches across from Golden Gate Park.

I wish I was still treasurer of ASJA, the American Society of Journalists and Authors, or about 1,300 writers with more talent than me.  I loved visiting the city that never sleeps.  Riding into Manhattan from LaGuardia Airport is certainly a culture shock for a boy from small town Nebraska.  The ASJA home office is on Broadway, and what address is more American?  I remember staying at the Hilton Hotel, just a few blocks away from the ASJA office, agog at the big screens on every building, and yes the neon lights too, though I don’t play a guitar, and no way do you get a shoe shine for one thin dime.  Anyway, I remember walking to the office and thinking that in three blocks and a mere five minutes I passed many more people than live in my old home town of North Bend.

Chicago is my kind of town.  A Cubs game is on my bucket list.  Maybe my friend Tony Anville who is close with the Ricketts family, new owners of the Cubs, can get me some passes.  Actually, I am so dull that I can be entertained merely staying in my hotel room at the Hilton O’Hare Hotel.  I have often said there is something about airports that stir me, but watching all the hubbub at the world’s busiest, or maybe it is just the second busiest, airport is a joy for me to behold.  I love watching planes, big or little, zoom down the runway and take off.  I love seeing names like Air France, British Airways, JAL, Aer Lingus, Lufthansa, and Alitalia plastered on a 747.  I am beyond intrigued about why someone is flying to Chicago from London or Paris or Melbourne or Tokyo.  Of course I am also intrigued by the tiny commuter prop jet arriving from Evansville.

I have never been to the Chicago stock yards or the Wrigley Building, or even the building that is no longer called the Sears Tower.  I have never seen the Magnificent Mile either.  Someday, maybe.

By the time I get to Phoenix, I hope that I will not miss my connecting flight.  I have never just been to Phoenix.  I have been to Phoenix en route to San Francisco or Los Angeles or Omaha, but never just to Phoenix.  I love flying into the Phoenix airport, I hate getting around that airport.  I always seem to arrive at a gate near the end of one terminal and find out I am going to depart from a gate at the end of another terminal.

Same way with Big D, little a, double l-a-s.  I have never just been to Dallas.  I would love to go there some day to watch Nebraska dispatch Texas in the Big 12 championship game, but that doesn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon.  Not that DFW is a big airport, but there have been times it seemed like the jet I was on taxied longer than it took to fly from Omaha.  I do like the sky trains much better than the old underground railroad at this airport. 

I guess I am suffering from wanderlust today.  Still, it is always great to get back to Omaha-and yes, there has been a song or two about Omaha, at least Moby Grape had a hit record titled ‘Omaha.’  If you didn’t know it already, Omaha has the world’s cleanest airport.  It says so right on the cakes in the men’s urinals.  Actually, it is true.  Of the 30 or so airports I have visited, Omaha is by far the cleanest.  There is no place like home.

No jets, just a quick vacation in my mind.  It is still dank, dark, and dreary in Nebraska, and now there is a gusty wind coming from northwest, right out of Canada.  O Canada, I would love to drive your highway to Alaska, but not in October.

Thanks for stopping by.

Once again I have combined topics like no one else anywhere.  I defy you to find another blog post discussing Nebraska football and Tibetan meditation.  You won’t.  After watching Nebraska play Texas Tech on TV yesterday, I definitely needed some Tibetan tranquility.

First, everyone can put away the “Suh for Heisman” t-shirts.  Like it or not, the Heisman balloting is stacked in favor of a quarterback or running back.  For a defensive tackle to be even considered, he would have to come upon with effort after effort like that of Suh against Missouri.  Good would not be good enough, and great would not cut it either.  Nebraska needed to sweep its way to Jerry Jones’ palace in Dallas to play for the Big 12 championship game for Suh to be considered a candidate for the Heisman.  Obviously, after yesterday there is going to be no sweep.

Nebraska could somehow find its way to play Texas in the Big 12 Championship game.  I was so giddy after the Missouri victory I saw us powering past everyone but Oklahoma, and gave the Huskers a good chance in that game.  Now, well, we could go 5-1, and 2-4.  Actually, the two teams I felt we would have no trouble defeating are Kansas State and Iowa State, and both of them won Big 12 games yesterday.  Kansas lost to Colorado, and the Buffaloes always seem to play good against the Huskers in Boulder.  I don’t see Nebraska going 0-6, really not even 2-4, but I don’t see the team going 5-1 in the remaining regular season games either.

The Huskers have lots of questions that need to be answered, and I am afraid that some of the answers won’t be to the liking of Husker fanatics.  Outside of the Sun Belt conference, Nebraska has struggled on offense.  Seven of the past eight quarters, Nebraska totally sucked on offense.  Zac Lee looked almost like a deer in head lights, receivers dropped pass after pass, and the Huskers have been unable to Roy Helu Jr., their best offensive player, do his thing. I think it is too much to expect Cody Green to be a savior at quarterback as a true freshman.  Yes, Tommy Frazier did a super job when he was a freshman, but look at the cast of characters to help him out.  Maybe NU needs Suh to really go retro and play both ways, defensive tackle and fullback, put four tight ends in with Helu at running back, and it might be able to move the chains once in awhile.

The NU defensive line is the best since the heydays of Grant Wistrom and Jason Peter.  The rest of the defense is average.  Defense is going to keep us in most games, but they are not going to win ball games with an offense that can’t move the football.  The Virginia Tech loss hurt.  It was a game we could have and should have won.  Texas Tech?  It felt like Bill Callahan was still on the sidelines.

After a late afternoon of Nebraska football, I needed a lot of Tibetan Tranquility.  My daughter Amanda decided that Jane and I should go with her to a how to session on Tibetan meditation at the Omaha Healing Arts center.  Other than eating (I am simply a Nebraska born meat and potatoes guy), I really enjoy learning about different cultures.  Buddhist Monk, Lama David Bole did a wonderful job of teaching the basics of Tibetan meditation, and the morning was worthwhile and enjoyable.  Bole also has a Ph.D in psychology from the University of Florida, so he presented a somewhat western flavored view of meditation.  As both Jane and Amanda pointed out on the way home, it wouldn’t hurt for my mind to be a little more stable and calm. 

Stress reduction and lower blood pressure are by-products of meditation.  My family has had more than our share of stress in 2009, so maybe practicing this ancient art isn’t such a bad idea.  OM.

Thanks for stopping by.  Oh, and not to mislead you, the meditation we studied focuses on breathing, there was not mantra.

If you are looking to take your blog to the proverbial next level, you need to attend Blog World Expo in Las Vegas (check it out at www.blogworldexpo.com).  It is an opportunity to listen to and learn from the most experienced and successful bloggers around.  It is a chance to network with literally hundreds of others who are as passionate with the world of blogging as you are-sorry, I don’t like the term blogosphere.  It is a time to review services and new products from dozens of vendors, products that can improve the quality of your blog, help you attract new visitors to your blog and track all of your visitors too.  No question, the Blog World Expo in Las Vegas is the perfect setting to renew your enthusiasm for what can become a grind, posting to your blog day after day after day.

I am a writer.  I can produce great copy, especially in my niche.  I am computer literate, but I am technically inept.  Actually, calling me technically inept is somewhat of a compliment. I barely talk the talk; I need to be able to walk the walk.  I want to add bells and whistles to my blog.  Actually, I would settle for learning how to add video and podcasts, and an occasional plug-in too.  Blog World Expo is the place I need to be next weekend.  Unfortunately, instead of walking from the Las Vegas Hilton to the convention center-been there, done that in hot weather and would rather ride the monorail-I will be sitting at home in Nebraska, envious of those who are making the trek.

I did plan on attending this year’s Blog World Expo.  I had researched flights, and knew I would stay at the Hilton, as the conference room rate was super.  Unfortunately, as the deadline date neared, my wife came home with news that trumped my desire to attend the Expo.  She was losing her job, the job she had put much of her heart and soul into since 1989.  Her office will close October 31^st.  Actually, Jane told me to make the trip to Las Vegas anyway, that I needed to gain all the knowledge the Blog World Expo was sure to provide.  It was my decision to stay home.

So, I won’t be listening to Blog World Expo Keynote Speakers like Chris Brogan and Guy Kawasaki.  Instead of a tune up from blogging dynamo Robert Scoble, I will be taking my snow blower to the hardware store for a tune-up.  And, I won’t be meeting my blogging hero Darren Rowse, I’ll be eating potato chips and drinking Diet Coke while watching the University of Nebraska play football on TV.  OK, I admit the last comment was a little suck up for the contest, but much of what I have learned of blogging I credit to Pro Blogger and Darren.  And I know that if it hadn’t been for Darren I would not have 36,200 Twitter followers, or 4,300 Facebook friends.  And that is not a suck up comment.

If there is any positive from me not going to the Blog World Expo, it is that the last time I went to Las Vegas I got food poisoning.  I had not been that sick in years, and really ate nothing that should have made me sick.  Just hours before I was scheduled to leave for home, I was in the hotel bathroom—well, you don’t want to know more.  I am not sure how I made it through airport security.  I looked a mess.  Even though I had a coach class ticket, a kindly officer saw my plight and let me pass quickly through first class security.  And, praise be to Pepto-Bismol, sold at an airport newsstand. Without it I wouldn’t have had the strength to get on my plane.

Call me crazy, but I would be willing to risk food poisoning again, if the reward was an opportunity to take part in the 2009 Blog World Expo.  I work very hard on my blog.  Actually, my website www.therestofthedirt.com has three blogs-The Rest of the Dirt, which is a niche blog for auto racing enthusiasts; Ron Speaks Out-about anything from silky terriers to Sarah Palin; and, Stepping up To the Plate, writing of my love for baseball, and my efforts to lose weight. Anyway, I do work hard on the blogs, and want to make them more successful than they already are.  I might fly Southwest Airlines to Las Vegas, but I would fly the Expo to the success my blogs deserve.

Thanks for stopping by. And be sure to check out www.blogworldexpo.com.

My grand-puppies Kahlua and Sophie go to doggie daycare on Wednesdays and Fridays.  Both must have some type of inner clock that goes off on just those days, because they absolutely know when they are going to Mark and Leanne’s.  It must be a riot with upwards of a dozen or more small dogs taking over the place.  Really, it must be, as both come home exhausted from a fun day playing with their friends.

The weather is definitely autumnal in Nebraska.  Temperatures were in the low 30’s this morning, and highs today are only supposed to be in the 40’s. Mark and Leanne put coats on the girls when they went out to play this morning, a hooded coat for tiny Kahlua, and a “regular” coat for Sophie.  Kahlua, always the diva, loved the fashion statement, but Sophie felt the coat was impinging on her freedom and was working on ways to get it off.  The two silky terriers love each other when no adults are around, but they have totally different personalities. Both have managed to accomplish what no other dog has done-they have me spoiling them.

Sophie-who owns my daughter Amanda, has a birthday coming up later this month.  Amanda is planning a sleep over for Kahlua, and has found a store that sells carib cake mix for doggie birthday cakes.  I would say I have heard it all now, but I know I haven’t.  Anyway, Amanda intends to bake doggie cup cakes for the girls to celebrate Sophie’s third birthday.  For that night at least both dogs won’t run to my dining room chair and stand by me with front paws on my leg, begging for some people food.

That does create quite a quandary for me.  My son Matt yells at me if I feed Kahlua and Amanda becomes irate if I feed Sophie.  I know I am not supposed to feed them. But both puppies look at me with soulful eyes, and all but ask ‘how can you resist something so cute?” I can’t, and incur the wrath of my children. 

Anyway, I really needed a smile today, and hearing about the doggie coats gave me one.  Both puppies are always good for a laugh or a smile.

Thanks for stopping by.

For years a concerted effort has been made to record the World War II memories of individual veterans.  We are losing hundreds of these veterans everyday, and without such an effort, a priceless oral history of the war would be lost.  I know my Dad was reluctant to discuss his time on Guam, and if asked would downplay what he did.  I wish we had been more forceful in getting him to relate his story before he passed.

If I have thought of it, I am sure others more capable have too, but I would hope that oral histories are being taken from Korean War veterans too.  These men and women aren’t much younger than our WWII veterans.  Someone who was 20 in 1952 is now 77 years old.  Perhaps the dark humor of the movie and TV show M*A*S*H allows us a sense of what happened, but stories of our front-line fighters are just as important as those of doctors and nurses who helped heal them.

While 50 may be the new 30, Vietnam era veterans are aging like all baby-boomers.  Maybe this is a war we would like to forget, but maybe, just maybe it is the one we should remember most.  Again, if I thought of it, I am sure someone more capable has thought of a way to give Vietnam vets and outlet to share their memories. Never has a conflict so divided our nation.  I have read plenty of what war protesters had to say-I was a part of it.  I have read of what our political leaders have said.  I would like to hear what a Marine at Khe Sanh or Hue has to say.  Or the recollections of a helicopter crew member flying from Saigon just before it was overrun.  Yes, I know, you can find almost anything on the internet.  I guess I am a hard copy, book sort of guy, and maybe I haven’t been looking hard enough.

At some point in time the memories of veterans of Iraq 1 and 2 and Afghanistan need to be recorded too.  We have more than enough biographies of war time Generals; we need to learn more of what the “little guy” suffered through. The old cliché about “if we don’t learn from history, we are doomed to repeat it” could more apt than evermore in Afghanistan. 

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