Chocolate Dice and more!

I have a dear friend who is one of my 'sisters.' She was the first girl of my gaming group back in '84. I was a groomsman at her wedding as her husband is also a gamer. I have stayed in touch with her ever since. She sends me CARE packages around Easter and also Christmas. This last Christmas she sent me a package with blessed dice 'via KODT and Eric Mora of Pathfiner.' That made my day.  A friend in my current gaming group gave me dice made out of chocolate. It was great-and tasted good.  As a gamer we are pretty easy to by for/ And another friend in the group gave me a Warehouse 13 t-shirt.  Us gamers tend to be fairly easy. I wanted to thank them as gifts like that tend to mean more.

I was lucky.

I was lucky at times. As I look back on parts of my life I can also see how stupid I was on some things. A prime example on being more lucky than good was when I opened my first store.

I had met the owner of a hobby store in Jefferson City due to a friend from Kemper, (Leif). As I talked with him; he was great guy, a retired vet, he said he was thinking of opening another store. I told him he should open one in Columbia. He said he didn't know anything about Columbia. I told him, yeah but I did. So we became partners.

I opened TPS Games Crafts and Hobbies in October of 1989 at 27 North 10th Street. I had always known that if I had ever opened a store in Columbia it would be in 'North Village.' In the early 70's on KRCG TV out of Jefferson City, on Saturday nights at 11:15, after only 15 minutes of news and Star Trek episode, there would be Tales of Terror. A local horror show hosted by one of the anchors (which I didn't know til 30 years later when he retired and they posted it). They would show old horror shows like The Creature from the Black Lagoon. But their sponsors were stores from North Village in Columbia. North Village Sub Shop, Aardvarks, Cork and Dart Pub, The Nostalgia Shop are just a few I remember. When I got to Columbia, I realized that area was where the '60's rejects' were. My name for the hippie culture. Not bad people, just usually different ideas. At the time it still had that feel. It was a small community within the downtown.

Anyway, I got the store front and we moved stock and some shelving in. My first counter was an old counter that had been left there by the previous business. It wasn't exactly the most solid or level, but it would do. As time went on, I fixed the store up. I laid new carpet, as the old carpet was frayed and there were tile sections so it was exactly uniform. I took out some walls to a storeroom that was weirdly constructed to open up a bit more space, put peg boards up and some direct lightening. Had new shelving made and a dam near bomb proof "L" front counter on wheels. Luckily I had friends who knew how to build and helped me. One thing; I did all of this without checking with my landlord. I don't know if I could or couldn't, I just did it. The old adage of its easier to ask forgiveness that ask permission was well into play. Luckily nothing bad came of it. I don't know if the landlord knew or care. Or maybe I impressed him with who I was and how I ran a business. Probably a combination of all of that. I had no store experience but knew what I liked and how I wanted to be treated. I tried all kind of advertising, and I know I did things that business owners and professionals would look at me in aghast. And that's ok. At the time, for me, it worked.  I loved that store and definitely put blood, sweat, tears and money into it. That a big regret I have when I sold it to my manager.

when I bought out my partner I changed the name to The Cheshire Cat. There's a story there too. When I was at Kemper... yeah get used to that phrase, during my first year, there was store in Boonville called The Cheshire Cat. It was a small book store that also carried some Avalon Hill games. A beautiful little store. On one of the front doors they had even a glass etching of the Cheshire Cat. I remember that so well, as that was where I would go on the few occasions I left campus. It only lasted a year or so but impressed me that I knew that I would call my store that if I ever opened one.

So years later, I have my store. Then I sold it and all the crap happened in my life. At one time in the Columbia Mall there was an independent book store called Columbia Books. They eventually moved out of the mall and down town. I re-opened The Cheshire Cat during my second marriage on 126 South 9th Street. I knew a lot of the people working at Columbia Books as I loved books and that store. So I was talking with one of the ladies in there and mentioned I was re-opening my store, The Cheshire Cat. She said there was an older lady that worked in the store that had a shop in Boonville called The Cheshire Cat a long time ago. I told her that was where I came up with the name! I got to meet her and tell her how much I loved her store and why I had named my store that. She was a lovely lady. A few years later she passed away I am sorry to say. I was so glad to be able to tell her why I named my store and to meet her and I know that The Cheshire Cat's name lives on with many of my former customers. That legacy I am very proud of!

Live. Life. Your. Way.

Just got done re-watching the series Trauma. It only lasted one season, but I enjoyed it. It was more about the people than it was the medical emergency. One of the main characters, Nancy, helped a woman who had stage-4 cancer. As she was treating her in her home, she looked around at everything; sand from all the beaches, pictures of her doing things, art work, etc. You could tell it was affecting her. Then she started remembering her mother who never went any further than Canada or Mexico. And that got me thinking.

People think they have to back pack the beaches of Viet Nam or travel to Europe to have lived. To be happy. That's an illusion in my opinion. Just like with me and joining the military. Something stops you. If you do it, do it. Just like Yoda says, 'There is no try, only do.' 

It  took me a long time to realize I was going in the direction I was suppose too; and the only person I could blame was me. Good or bad,  I owned the highs and lows. 

Now, with everything that has happened to me in the last 14 years; I think I am a much more laid back person. I have faced bankruptcy, death, disowned, disgraced (in my opinion) divorced, and whole bunch of other 'd's I am sure. In some ways I have been lucky. In my younger days I got to really live, and now I have my memories to entertain me while I slog through the rough patches. I did more before I was 30 than most people will ever do. I made it to Europe. I made it to Hawaii. I visited Canada and many many places here in the USA. I lead people. I personally know prominent people and many others who I am in awe and love and respect as I know the journey they have taken. I know people in many countries and call them friend though I haven't seen them in 30 years. I am very lucky. I have seen people at their best and worst. I have accomplished things; I climbed Diamond head on my birthday. I have had my words published as well as being a professional photographer (yes, I actually got paid to take pictures). I have lived. 

Is it the life I had wanted? No. At one time I had wanted to be so many things... dam my ADHD.. but thats BS, in my case. Its like looking at a buffet and trying to decide what you want. You won't know until you try a little of everything. Thats how I am looking at life. I have tried, still trying, a little bit of everything. I always said I hated to be bored and thats why I would stuff a paperback book in the bell of my sousaphone so I could read as the band waited during parade practice. 

I have known good people who died too soon and also passed on their own terms. I own my life. No one else does. Is it better to be respected or loved? You can respect someone without knowing or loving them. But can you love someone without respect? Not much of a relationship or love if you do, in my opinion. 

When I worked for Domino's in Boonville I got a chance to be on the other end of the pizza box, where as before I was the one ordering the pizza. You become invisible. But I want to share some instances. 

Usually on a Sunday night we would get this call for pizza from this one house. They were definitely low income. But I remember the first time I delivered to them; it was a summer night and they just had the screen door closed so I could hear them when I approached. When I knocked they said come on in. There were 3 or 4 of them sitting on a couch counting nickles, dimes and quarters. I then heard one of the ladies say to make sure there was enough for a tip. They chatted me up, asking my name and saying they were hurrying. They were very nice. I think I got a dollar or two tip. But what I came away from that was much more. They had wanted to make sure that their delivery driver got a tip, when they could have just paid what was owed. I really wouldn't have blamed them as you could tell they were making or barely making it. From then on, whenever I got a delivery to them I made sure they were the first place I stopped if I had more than one. They earned my respect and I made sure I took care of them. Not for any other tip, but because they understood and were trying. Trust me; you treat people in the food service industry good, especially if you are a repeat customer. 

A second trip; I took a bunch of pizzas to one of the nicest and biggest house around; sat way back off the road, landscaped, multiple vehicles, boat, etc. Mucho Money. When I delivered the pizzas, the lady gave me a check for the exact amount and never said more than 2 words to me. That stayed with me also. 

Finally I delivered pizza to one of the hotels. There was some girl's school track team or something staying and had ordered. I got my money and a note. I don't know if the girls were just playing or serious or what but it made my night. They said in the note thank you and that I was 'fine.' Please. I was old enough to be any of their fathers. It was funny and cute and made my night go by faster. 

All these thing and many more are things I have learned. It has made me who I am and got me where I am. If I suddenly took off for the beaches of Viet Nam or Thailand, then that's what I was supposed to do at that time. I have no desire to do that. But there are other things that I could do, that may or may not seem odd. Leaving mid-Missouri might have seen odd to some; they couldn't believe I did it. But it was time. 

I learned not to dwell on things that might have been. I either did or did not. I am me. 

Normal?

Normal. Whats that? In this day and age that goes through a lot of interpretation. I was never normal some would say. Not in a bad way or a weird way, I just marched to the beat of my own drum. Example; back in grade school I would read Star Trek books on the bus. That doesn't sound bad. Yeah but think of the time, this was the early 70s. Star Wars hadn't made liking science fiction chic. Heinlein. Clark. Tolkein. Burrows. Poe. Classics. At my small town school I was made fun of because of my interest. Bullied even. I won 1st place at my 8th grade science fair for my display on the Bermuda Triangle. I loaned all my Bermuda Triangle books to a pretty high school senior girl I barely knew. Yeah a pretty face can always make me do things. But thats normal.

At Kemper I was accepted for who I was. My honor. My loyalty. It didn't matter as I found others who liked the same thing. I found others who didn't. I found others who introduced me to other things; music, food, from where they were from.

As I got older I also found many who tried to re-write their younger history. Not me. People say I live in a fantasy world for liking my fantasy role play games or Star Trek. But I don't try to be someone I'm not nor live a life I didn't live. Remember, I know where the bodies are buried; in other words I remember how you were. Normal is boring.

Life is meant to be lived. You should slide into the last years of your life and by the time they lower you in the ground, it should be like when you slow down and come to a stop after riding a roller-coaster. How you act on the roller coaster is what you will remember and how you will be remembered. You can't change it. Good or bad. That's who you are.

Me? Normal? In this day and age I am some what normal. My 'more' normal friends would still just shake their head, but they know and accept me.

I know when they get their Starfleet Communiuqe they will think of me. Especially if they were deployed and everyone in their unit knew they were in Starfleet when they would get it during mail call and everyone in their unit gave them crap for it. And if they run for any office in Texas and are asked how long they have been in Starfleet, they will think of me.  Hey. Us non-normal guys have to get our fun where we can.

Daddy Dearest

My roomate from Kemper's daughter is engaged. They are my 'nieces'/God-Children...haven't seen them in years but stay in touch via FB. In any case, God gave him daughters for all his old wild and wolley ways, but he and his wife did a great job with them.  Can't wait til he becomes 'grandpa.'

But that got me thinking. As I said, music is the soundtrack of my life, and songs take us back to a time and place. For me to think about him will always bring to mind "Thunder Island" by Jay Ferguson. The reason is that was the song that was playing once when we G.I ed our room for an inspection. It was a Saturday morning and we were living on first floor K barracks in a room that in the winter time was so warm we had to open the window. In any case, that song was playing on KDBX, the local Boonville radio station. I don't know if it played every time we cleaned, but I remember that time; coming through my clock radio.

He was like Robin Williams in his young days. He was the big brother I never had; I wanted to be like him. He was part of the 18th ABN. Served in Germany and Desert Storm. I really wanted to do the things he did, and be like him at one time. He seemed fearless; still is I guess. 

But that was then and this is now. The song always brings a smile to my face as I can still smell the Windex and Pine Sol.  A great song to clean too.

I'd recognize that face anywhere!

Even after 30 years there are some people I can recognize anywhere. A prime example was a few years ago a guy came up to me at a reunion. Sidled is the best way and he was looking at me and started to say,
I bet you don't remember..."

"Wait a minute," I said. I looked at him and replied, "Reuben Makekau."

"Wow," he said. "Even the first name."

There are some people you never forget. also, he looked exactly how he did 30 years ago. A bit of silver in the hair, and maybe a few lines, but I'd have known him anywhere. Also, he will always look like he did from way back then. There are just some people you never forget.

When I'm with these people that I first met in my young and formidable teenage years, I see how they were then. Bunch will always be Bunch. I would recommend he keep his hat on as he is lacking in the hair department. But to me he will always have that curly blond hair. Not to mention, he is truly one of the most professional trumpet players I have ever seen. He had band camp stories way before the guy who wrote American Pie even knew how to write. The same with George. Most professional trombone player I have ever known. It was an honor, privilege and a joy to play with them. George will always be George; his height is the most memorable and that damnable smile of his. One of the quickest wist I have ever know. Both of those guys I consider closer than brothers, that what Kemper did, And I could not forget them.

Now some of the younger guys who may have only been there a year or two... yeah might take me longer. And then there are some of their voices. Garret, when he showed up at my second weekend, I didn't recognize him initially as it had been a few years, he had put on a few pounds and was wearing glasses. But as soon as he opened his mouth, I immediately knew. Hard to hide that Texas drawl of his.

Wilkey... can't  forget him or his voice.

That's why I hate Alzheimer's.  You get robbed of the memories of people, places and things that are important and special.

I'm not sure how the guys remember me; I know that I may look similar and at time behave similar. But time has taken a toll.

Thanks for the memories.

Music is the soundtrack of my life

What makes a person who they are? Is it one singular incident, that 'turning point' in someones life or are they multiple ones? Or is a person just born a certain way; nature vs nurture? Or does it really matter?  For me, I believe in the cause and affect rule. Something happened, whether once or more than once and that elicited an effect.

My musical tastes might be a good example. I love the 70s and 80s music. Thank goodness for satellite radio! I am listening to a Chicago song. And as Brian and I once discussed, Chicago is or was Peter Cetera. Though the Chicago sound is more brass; as long as they had a good singer who could carry the melody, I might actually argue that the real Chicago music is that. I have the compilation of all their songs and I have heard songs of theirs that I am not a fan of. There are very few groups/singers that I like everything they do. Lets see; Barry Manilow, Rocket Kirschner (local Columbia guy), Joshua Kadison, Jim Croce, John Denver and England Dan and John Ford Coley to name a very few. I can honestly say with EDJFC I like 99.9% of everything they put out that I have heard. And as far as I know, I discovered them on my own. The radio helped no doubt, but I think I went out and got their albums and then I would share them with people who were special to me so the bond grew. Another group would be the Eagles.

I liked the Eagles when I heard them; One of these Nights, Desperado, Tequila Sunrise, Hotel California...but I also remember Bunch having one of those 8-track players, with a handle on the top that you would hit to advance the track. I remember he had that and either Hotel California or The Long Run. Just like Carol, my first Sunday School teacher/youth leader, whatever... but she had a blue Firebird with t-tops. I remember when the youth group went camping at the camp ground (now gone) at Rocheport. and she had a  Doobie Brothers cassette. I remember then going with my dad to a Radio Shack where I got a cassette player and 2 cassettes. One was Doobie Brothers - Taking It To The Street. The other was a Helen Reddy one. Talk about two very different groups.

I remember Nichols from Kemper, riding with him and his homemade cassettes; Marshall Tucker Band and Billy Joel. Craft got me into Jim Croce - Photograph and Memories.

Just like there are songs that go with certain people. I hope we all have that. A song will take you to a time and place long ago. And while that song maybe playing at another time, there will return you to a time that is never forgotten with people no longer here at places that are gone. And you will remember.