At the movies...

Well, kind of at the movies. I am not a "go to the movie" kind of guy. I don't like crowds and like them even less when they yap while you are trying to watch a movie. In fact, I don't even rent movies very often. But this weekend, I did. War of the Worlds and Ladder 49.

So the review...

I saw the original War of the Worlds way back when. It was black and white as I remember and Orson Wells did the voice over. It scared the crap out of me. My little brother Roger was with me and we were both, well little. My parents were somewhere and we snuck off to the Lyric theatre to see it.

When Mom and Dad got home, they found us sitting in the middle of the family room surrounded with butcher knives. We were scared to death.

Maybe that's why I don't go to movies. But anyway, the modern version wasn't all that appealing to me even though I kind of knew what was going to happen. The "new" followed the "old" fairly well, san butcher knives.

Ladder 49 was something different. Powerful. I welled up a couple of times. It kind of made me want to call my fireman nephew John and tell him to get a safe job at Wal-Mart. But, this is Lincoln and not Baltimore so there aren't that many tall buildings here. None the less, one of the young stars fell through the roof on a two story fire and they had to summon the bagpipes. During my CERT training, our volunteer fireman instructor told us..."if you want to know what it is really like inside of a burning building, watch Ladder 49." Lesson understood.

Look close at Lincoln's finest with Ladder 5 as it were. It's truck 5 in Northeast Lincoln. That's a pic I took of a fire in the neighborhood last year. Looks pretty nasty, doesn't it.

Maybe you can walk out of Ladder 49 and say, "it's only a movie." Then again, you may hear a distant siren howling in the night. You may see flashing blue and red lights in the distance. And if you stand still for a moment, Ladder 5 will blow on by on their way to God knows what. Raise your index finger when a firetruck goes by. We don't need anymore young families in the first pew and somebody warming up the bagpipes.

God speed Ladder 5 and all of Lincoln's finest.

It's here...Ugh

Ok, it's here. My least favorite time of the year. Winter. Ugh. In fact, double ugh. I hate snow and cold. Once you get by that first fluffy, pretty snow, it's well, just ugh.

Plus, it's "that" season. The season where you over-eat and over drink and well, fall over.

The older I get, the less I like this "festive" time. I am not festive anymore. I hate crowds. I hate small talk. I don't drink. I don't have a cool sweater and yuppie pants and cool shoes. I like jeans and t-shirts. I look like old jeans and old t-shirts with a bad attitude. Worst of all, my muscles and bones hurt from the cold. (They tell me that is especially true of former polio people like me.) Triple ugh.

I need to go somewhere warm and sunny. But, all of the warm and sunny places are destroyed this year. Hurricanes. Is that season over now?

I guess I could go to California. It's sunny. It's full of marachi bands. Maybe I could learn do a California triathlon...run through 100 yards of brush...scare a rickity fence...run across some open land...jump into the river and swim across...run through some open land...sneak around a dark green pickup...run into more brush...spike a bean burrito and give the touchdown sign.

The ground under me would tremble. Oh God. Earthquake.

I knew there was a good reason not to go to California.

So go ahead. Enjoy the snow and the cold. Go Grandma's house. Eat too much turkey. Eat an extra piece of pumpkin pie with Cool Whip on it. Drink too much. Fall over. Nap. Have left-overs. Nap. Eat some Tums. Drive home and half nap on the way.

After all, that's why all of those people are doing the California triathlon, isn't it?

The small town life

I took a little drive out west of Lincoln last Sunday. I didn't take the Interstate. Instead, I chose to take a two laner and ended up in Seward, Nebraska. (For those of you who don't know, Seward is the "4th of July City" and was named after the folly guy.) Seward folks go all out for America's birthday and their population goes from 3,000 something to 30,ooo something. Not a good place for a crowd-hating recluse like me to be.

But Seward was the perfect place for me last Sunday. Beautiful day. Still a hint of fall in the air. A little wind to whip the brown dried leaves around. And a Main Street just as Main Street as America gets. The Seward County Courthouse dominates the center of this little town. Yellow ribbons are tied to the light poles with the signs that tell you to obey this or that. There is a statue of a Civil War soldier standing on a tall white pedestal. Next to the pedestal is a flag pole with both the US and Nebraska flags flapping around in the light breeze. When was the last time you stopped to listen to flapping? When was the last time you looked into the stone face of a soldier and thought about those kids who fell then, and the kids who fall now? It was all right there. From flapping to the stone face to the yellow ribbon. Seward has it right. Seward let's you sample freedom in silence any time you want.

The heart of America is alive and beating in little Seward. God bless it.

A walk down an old path

I haven't been on a personal photo trip for a long time. (That's when you say the hell with everything and everyone and toss your best camera over your shoulder and go somewhere just to take pictures.) In my case, the camera is my trusty Nikon 8008 and the place is about an hour away...Nebraska City.

Nebraska City is Nebraska's hidden treasure. You probably don't think about apples when you think of Nebraska but that's where they grow 'em. You probably don't think of trees when you think of Nebraska but that's where Arbor Day started. You probably don't think of a world class resort when you think of Nebraska but that's where the Lied Lodge is and well...it is!

I shot a couple of rolls there, ate a freshly baked piece of apple pie with ice cream and walked and listened. I had forgotten the sound of leaves and dried twigs crumpling under foot. I had forgotten the sound of the wind as it shakes the top of a giant cottonwood tree. I had forgotten the sound of a distant crow making claim over me for territory.

And if that wasn't enough, there are other things there, too. Including the Mighty Mo...the Missouri River. It's beautiful this time of years and the folks down there make it easy to see in all of it's glory--especially if you climb a tree to get a little better look.

It was a great day for me. I was very comfortable being myself with nothing more than the trusty Nikon, freeing myself from the nagging voice that said I should be using that camera more often. So here ya go. A path less walked.

See if you can do without football for a Sunday like I did. Let your kids see you climb a tree. Teach them to listen for the crow and the sound of crunching leaves and breaking twigs. Let them hear the the sound of the wind talking to the trees.

Find a path and walk it more often. You might even feel your soul smile, just like mine did.