The Faded Smell of Memory

There's a line from a James McMurtry song that has always stuck in my head since I first processed it. I don't know the name of the song, but it's on "Where'd You Hide the Body." Anyway, he has a line in this song about waking up in a world where everything was "like the streets of a town where I lived when I was too young to drive." Everything is familiar, but nothing has a name. The story of my world is the opposite: the names and facts from my past remain, but the essence is gone.

I am always amazed by people who can relive and bring to life people and episodes from their past (both major and trivial). I am marrying one of those people, and we happen to live four blocks from where she grew up. So for her, the past and her childhood are as real as the streets we walk and drive on. Things are a bit foggier for me.

Odors, more than any other sense, are supposedly the best at rekindling memories and their associated emotion. If I remember my grad school neurology correctly, it's because the olfactory cortex and hippocampus are neighbors. So, in the past month, I got a wiff of a Port-A-Potty and suddenly had the nervous energy I got before running the 5k in a college track meet, some window cleaner at work made me feel like I was in an ex-girlfriend's bathroom, and the smell of fresh leaves on our deck had me re-living my first summer out of college.




The point to all of this: these remote memories are all no more than 11 years old. Where have I stored years 1 through 20 of my life?

I bring this up because I am going to San Francisco this weekend, where I lived for a summer with my dad (when I was somewhere between seven and nine years old). And I have fond, vague memories of the place. But I remember the facts well: going to my first baseball game ever (A's vs. Mariners), The Exploritorium, playing with a dog named Heather, and completing multi-day long games of Monopoly with my grandma. All very specific memories, no doubt, but their essence is gone. Remembering these facts are no different than remembering that John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln or that the Golgi bodies are organelles at the cellular level that prepare enzymes for secretion. They are just facts that I can recall that, as far as I can tell, have no real effect on me. I would like to think that I am more attached to my past than the facts that I remember from 9th grade biology.

I lost close family members and a very close friend since I moved to the Twin Cities. It scares me to think that one day my memories of them will fade away like my lost feelings for my first car, elementary school auditorium, and even my childhood kitchen. Who knows, maybe once I get to the Bay Area, see Fisherman's Wharf and go to the Exploritorium all these memories will come flooding back and suddenly I will be whole again.

Nothing new under the sun

Today Emily and I went for a Memorial Day bike ride with two friends of ours. We rode our bikes on county roads near Afton, MN, which is on the St. Croix river, and borders Wisconsin. I had my bike tuned up last year and, 12 months later, I have finally used it. As we rode out of Afton, I saw alternating "Liberate Iraq" and "NO WAR ON IRAQ" signs, as if I were biking through south Minneapolis (of course in South Minneapolis, the ratio is more 2:1 for Don't Attack vs. Liberate and it is more like 1:1 in Afton).


Anyway, as we were biking out of town there was a dead/dying tree in someone's front yard that had been painted red, white, and blue, at the base, with the upper two thirds of the tree painted to be the Statue of Liberty. One day, I'll get a nice digital camera and take a picture of things like this tree, just like Gabe Chavez does. But for now, you are stuck with my description. Regardless, it is safe to say a dead tree/Statue of Liberty isn't exactly what I would want in my front yard. However, it was a refreshing change from the cookie cutter McHomes that we drove past in Woodbury and Maplewood on I-94 on our way to Afton.


So for the rest of my bike ride, on this Memorial Day, I got to thinking, how many Vets, on a daily basis, see or experience something that makes them say, "I went to war, killed people, and my friends died for my country in (insert country I have never been to here). And my buddies died for this bullshit?!?!?!?!!" My guess is that it actually happens less than I expect. But I have to wonder, what would be most likely to prompt a heroic Vet to think such a thing? Would it be...

a) the cookie-cutter subdivisions of Woodbury

b) the Statue of Liberty tree

or c) Me and my three 20-30 something friends driving 30 miles to bike around some farm land, eat ice cream, and complain about how long it took for me to get my chicken tender sandwich, or talk about how much it sucks that I have to go into work today to get caught up on some report writing. All this on Memorial Day.

I am pretty sure answer might be c).


Safe to say, I am one of many spoiled generations. And if 9/11 wasn't enough to wake us up for more than a few months as to how good we have it, I don't know what will--other than all of us going through a half-decade or more of war. Maybe we need the casualties of war we honor today to be our own classmates, friends, and spouses before Memorial Day really means anything to us. And I don't know if I should feel that, just because I wrote this blog, I now adequately appreciate those who have died in war.


But I did see one other noteworthy scene during our Afton trip. An old man, easily in his late 70s, drove his riding lawn mower down Afton's main street and into the ice cream parlor parking lot. It was like watching the sequal to The Straight Story (great movie by the way). Then he hobbled his way into the parlor and came out with a cup of coffee. He had one of the most labored gaits I have ever seen. He sat on the porch by himself and drank his coffee. I assume he was going to ride his mower back home when he was done. If he's not a Vet himself, I'm sure a lot of guys who are would say, "Now there's an American worth fighting for."

My Own Private Office Space

Everyone probably has a moment from the movie Office Space he or she can identify with. For me, it has nothing to do with cubicle life, but sharing a name with a celebrity (like Michael Jordan or George Michael). Of course, in Office Space, it is Michael Bolton whom I identify with.

While Office Space's Michael Bolton has his name usurped by Michael Bolton and his achy-breaky heart, Mike Nawrocki of VeggieTales has stolen my name.

For those who don't know, Veggie Tales is a Christian-themed cartoon for kids, complete with singing cucumbers, BIG carrots and, I don't know what else, dancing Jicama I guess. All of this is just fine. No skin off my nose, except for the fact that about once a month someone will ask me if I am the creator of Veggie Tales.


My friend Zander and I thought I should come up with my own cartoon: a Veggie Tales knock off called Fruit Stories. A cartoon all about gay fruit, written by, that's right, Mike Nawrocki. The show stealer in every episode, of course, would be Dirty Banana. Zander's goal is to get a Cease and Desist letter from my namesake's lawyer. My goal, of course, is to make millions off of the concept of gay apples. I mean, is that any weirder than a Bible thumping yellow squash?

The Greatest Idea Ever...

Big carrots are out. They went out with the Lakers dynasty. Gabe's Big Carrot Revolution has had a sudden death. An old high school friend of mine, Matt the Hatt sent me to Pie in a Jar. The Jar-O-Pie Movement begins today! Gabe, it was fun while it lasted, but the Big Carrot Revolution just had its legs cut out from under it by Montana Tom and his grandma. Unless, Mr. Chavez, you can show me how to support our troops with big carrots.

My Baby Carrot Araby

One last thought about the whole baby carrot vs. big carrot debacle. For years I have always left it up to my imagination to figure out how baby carrots are made. That way I could still hold out hope that they were somehow cultivated by Smurfs and then shipped to the human-world.

Or more likely, maybe the process involves a cool domino-stlye conveyer belt and even robots!!! Think of something in between the UK Honda Accord ad (thanks for the link Zander!) and the mini donut machines they have at state and county fairs.

If we could only be so lucky. It turns out the process is as earthly as processing potatoes into French, I mean Freedom Fries. How disappointing. I guess that's yet another reason why big carrots rule over baby carrots. With big carrots, what you see is what you get, from the carrot cradle to the carrot grave. No room for disillusionment.

SPURS RULE!!

Go Spurs Go!!

Or as some in my family say, GO SPUPS GO!! Well, Justin was kinda right. The Spurs did beat the pinche Lakers, but it sure was scary and not real reassuring. I liked (Spurs head coach) Greg Popovich's quote, "When we figure out how to stop someone in the fourth quarter, or score in the fourth quarter, we're going to be dangerous."

I don't know if I have the cojones to watch the game tomorrow night. How about all you other Spups fans out there... Will you be watching the game?

The Big Carrot Revolution Finds Its Legs

Emily just posted a blog that may lead to further tensions between the US and Canada. It seems some Canadian friend of hers is undermining the movement sprung by the big carrot visionary Gabe Chavez.

I'm proud to be an American, so I'm not about to trample on another North American's freedom of speech. But I will say this:The Cannuck is arguing that baby carrots are superior to big carrots due to a convenience factor. That is absurd and I already adressed this in Emily's blog.

But Emily does raise an interesting issue about the origin of baby carrots. If you are debating with a friend as to whether or not baby carrots are simply whittled down big carrots, or acutually carrots in their infant stage, it turns out, you are both right. And Emily, you may be wrong about the nutritional superiority of big carrots (the real issue may be peeled vs. unpeeled carrots).

I agree with Justin...

We're less than an hour away from game 5!!! And I agree the Spurs need to put the hurt on Los Pinche Lakers !!! GO SPURS!!!

By the way, what's up with my font's multi-personality disorder?

Throwing the Baby Carrots Out with the Dish Water

A couple weeks ago I went to the Powderhorn Park May Day Parade. And what I remember from that day wasn't the crazy bikes, but that my new friend Gabe was eating a carrot old-school style. And I mean Oooooold school. Forget that Baby Carrot Fad that defined the 90s or the 80s peel-your-carrots-first rage that swept the country. Gabe was eating an old-fashioned whole, unpeeled, but washed carrot. Retro cool.

Emily pointed out that this is probably the environmentally correct thing to do (less carrot waste). It also may be healthier as much of the nutrients are in the peel, she said. I'm not so sure about that last part, but she is getting a PhD. in publc health. So who am I to question? Even so, it looks like the jury is till out on the health issue of baby vs. whole carrots. For any of Emily's peers, maybe there's a lame dissertation idea for you. Or maybe I'm insulting you by assuming that the health benefits of whole and baby carrots even falls under the field of Epidemiology. Maybe I should quit while I'm ahead.

So today, for the first time in years, I ate a whole, unpeeled carrot at lunch, rather than my usual 12 baby carrots. It ruled! Whole carrots dominate big time over baby carrots. What the hell have I been thinking all these years??? Everyone needs to jump Gabe's Whole Carrot Bandwagon!!!!

Spurs vs. Lakers

Yesterday was another dark gloomy Mother's Day for Spurs' fans everywhere. Once again the Spurs lost to the mighty and mightily arrogant Lakers in their typical choke-like fashion. Over the years I have become used to these things. Save for Sean Elliott's Memorial Day Miracle. So maybe I'm whining a bit too much here; but you must realize, I have been a Spurs fan for as long as I can remember . Which means the Lakers have been a thorn in my side for as long as I can remember. Oh well. Off to bed. I need to tackle the world's speech problems tomorrow.

Much ablog about nothing

This like attempt #5 at starting my own personal blog. I start one up and then, eight hours later when I go to work on my blog, I have forgetten my password and/or username. So now I have like 78 active accounts at Blogger , so I'm sure they're getting sick of sendng me eight daily "Welcome to Blogger !" e-mails. Anyway, I hope to get this one up and running. In the meantime, there are some more evolved blogs out there to enjoy. In fact, it was Emily's , Rachel's , and Gabe's blogs that made me want to start my own.

And now I think I need to get going and head out to Minnetonka. My friend Mike got a one week demo game from Sony to test on his PS2. He gets them all the time, but this time he got Everquest, which as you may know, is infamous for creating Everquest addicts. I left Mike's at 2:30 a.m. and our conversation had regressed to Mike, with the PS2 in his lap occasionally looking up from his big screen TV, to say "Check me out Rocco!" or "Dude I just cast a spell on a snake!" Nice work Mike. Anyway, I better get out to his place and make sure his marriage is still intact.