Happy St. Valentine's Day!

Thanks to everyone who have paused long enough to visit this humble enterprise - we've topped 20,000 views! 

A major contributor was a couple year old homage to St. Valentine's Day - click:

Happy St. Valentine's Day

and enjoy!

Super Bowl

Nielsen reports that Super Bowl 2014 was the most watched game ever with 111.5 million viewers. This record edges out the former record set by the 2011 game (Packers beat the Steelers 31-25) that reached 111.3 million viewers. It’s argued that these figures are low as many viewers gather with friends to watch, nosh, and complete betting grids in hope of winning a quarter or two (football periods, not coins!).

Apparently, Peyton and Russell paled in comparison to Bruno who managed 115.3 million viewers for his halftime extravaganza. Go figure.

I gathered with friends to watch the big game and, to be honest, we had less interest in the contest’s outcome than we had in our menu. Much over thinking finally spawned a spread that included “build-your-own” shrimp cocktail with four choices of sauces and four available mix-ins (40,312 possible combinations – if I did my math right), two options of bleu cheese served on sliced apple, homemade mac-n-cheese, edamame hummus, a couple of caviar options and a spiral-sliced ham with assorted rolls. If that seems like too much food for the few of us gathered, you are absolutely correct – especially as more snacks arrived as others joined the fun.

Don't be too impressed, $6.59 caviar, egg, onion, cream cheese - but tasty!

We amazed at the Bronco meltdown, bemoaned what were deemed less creative commercials than usual (but did cheer an enunciating Bob Dillon pitching Chrysler), and laughed at the generational gap made oh-so-clear by the halftime entertainment. A good evening.

Tonight offered a second good evening. I dropped in on my pal Howard and found him in a happy mood and with more of a confident step. Conversation included our current reads, his most recent visits with his pastor, my latest activities and, for some unknown reason, the growth of technology during our lives.

I admitted that though born in the age of technology, I was still old enough that color television’s arrival was a big deal. Howard recalled a childhood at the movie theaters and huddled around the radio. I asked him when he first encountered television. “I arrived back from Germany (Howard served two enlistments in the United States Air Force – entering the European Theater only after the cessation of hostilities on the Continent) and got leave in New York City,” he began. “Four of us went to the bar and there was the first television any of us ever saw – sometime around 1948 – it was probably an eight-inch screen and the four of us were cheek-to-cheek in awe of this miracle.”

He couldn’t recall what the programming was that evening, but did recount how his father-in-law gave him and his new bride the father-in-law’s television (“A six-inch screen,” laughed Howard) upon their marriage. He also noted that his wife’s dad bought a new one for himself that day!

We talked of my involvement with the University of Michigan’s Men’s Glee Club and my recent hosting of the men for brunch. I told him the menu and that the clubbers did the final assembly of the egg casserole. This sparked Howard into sharing his egg casserole recipe that he makes annually for his church – he’s a gem.

Howard had lentil soup on the stove and offered me a bowl with a slice of bread. We shared dinner, some more stories and I thanked him for his hospitality. He thanked me for sharing a meal with him and again bade me welcome for future visits.

He seemed well and that makes me happy.

Super Bowl viewership statistics thanks to:

http://www.eonline.com/news/506614/super-bowl-2014-ratings-how-many-people-tuned-in-to-see-the-seahawks-broncos-blowout

Visit with Howard

Howard lives on a section of Liberty Road in Ann Arbor that is unpaved; about a quarter mile west of his house there is a section of the road that is often underwater. The year I saw the top of a blue Honda barely poking through the ice adjacent to that section, I pretty much decided to avoid traveling there in the winter.

These last few days when the polar vortex came for a visit were especially not the time to venture along that section of road. Until this morning, my normal route was littered with snow drifts as tall as my bumper – according to the local “super-duper mega-track radar weather center” (or whatever they call it) temperatures will soon rise above the freezing mark and much of the piled polar precipitation will soon feed the water table. Farewell.

I figured that Howard could be a bit stir crazy and I should darken his door this evening. I saw him from the driveway leaned over the counter having a bite and steam was rising from a pot on the stove. I didn’t want to interrupt his dinner, but I was there and I knocked.

His greeting was warm, enthusiastic, and confirming that visiting was the right decision. We walked arm-in-arm to his kitchen while trading good tidings for the New Year. He looked and sounded bad.

“I’m not doing very well,” he confided. “I’ve been in the hospital a couple of times since I’ve seen you and fallen 4-5 times. The goddamned idiots at the hospital can’t figure out what’s wrong with my balance and my legs.” At least he still has a bit of his fire.

We both poured a bit of whiskey and he turned the fire off under his dinner. An instrumental version of “Moon River” blared from his den and we went to our accustomed chairs for a visit.

Howard asked about mutual friends, agreed to an eventual outing at the watering hole where we met (“I stopped going there because they are so goddamned expensive.”), carped about the weather, and spoke of Herbert Hoover. I asked how his family ended up in Ann Arbor and a most painful narrative ensued. Remembering whence his father came was an effort; recalling where his father had a 47-year career was nearly impossible; distinguishing names from different generations was addled. He eventually remembered that his father moved from Flint to Ann Arbor in 1926 and that his mother was from Chelsea, Mich. His speech was slow and his usual snarls lacked teeth (there was, however, a rather heartening moment when his cat entered the room and he said, “Here comes asshole.” I asked what the cat’s name actually was – he said, “Oh, just asshole.” There are linguistic liberties granted as one approaches ninety.).

He’s lost about 55 pounds in the last year and a half and confessed to sleeping 12-15 hours a day. I suggested he talk to his pharmacist to see if any of his medications are making him that tired; he said he would. He did reaffirm that his son visits daily and shared that they were going grocery shopping on Friday. He also reported that his pastor stops by and his neighbors look in on him. He did insist that I know I’m always welcome – and I feel that.

I thanked him for his hospitality and said I’d go and let him enjoy his dinner. He was tired.  It won’t be a month between visits.