Everyone over ten or so knows exactly where they were and what they were doing when they found out what had happened on what should have been just another Tuesday morning. It's seared into my memory enough that I did not have to look up that it fell on a Tuesday. I was 15 years old, and our whole sophomore class was taking the ISTEP test, a test all Indiana students were required to pass to graduate. I gather that's not a thing any more, some other test has taken its place. In any case, we took the test in the cafeteria, one of the few places with both enough space and tables to house a quarter of the school at a time. We hit a break in the test, so we all went out into the hallways to take our breather. I walked by the counselor's office, which was both right outside of the cafeteria and had a window to look into the small reception area outside the counselor's actual office. All I remembered seeing on the screen through the window was flames everywhere, but I had no context for what I was seeing. I don't remember what the chyron said, but whatever it was did not immediately have me understand what I was looking at. Another teacher must have seen me standing out in the hallway looking dumbfounded, so she told me "Come in here and look at this." So I did.
That's when I finally understood what had happened. By that time, both planes had hit the buildings. All I could see were those enormous gaping holes in some of the most recognizable buildings in the world and all the smoke pouring out of them. I don't remember if the other planes had crashed yet or not, but I don't believe I knew about them before we had to go back in and start our test again. I remember mentioning it to a few other people on the way back in. Some knew, some didn't. Some realized it was a big deal right away, some didn't. Even those of us that knew we were seeing something big, though, still had no grasp of how history-altering that day would become.
We did our tests for the rest of that morning. We had to go back to classes that afternoon. Most classes just had the TV on, watching the horror unfold. Everyone was unsure of exactly what was happening, student and teacher alike. I think only one class actually stuck to regular instruction, but none of us were in the mood for it.
As soon as I got home, the TV was right back on to try to understand what had just happened. The video kept playing over and over. The first tower burning. The second plane hitting. The first tower falling. The second tower falling. We were continuously warned other buildings might fall. At least one finally did. We heard about the Pentagon, we heard about Flight 93 and how the passengers and crew heroically brought that plane down before it found its target.* As far as news coverage at the time was concerned, though, they were afterthoughts. The coverage was always mainly focus on New York, and the images from the building and all the soot and ash all over everything and everybody in lower Manhattan was certainly dramatic.
*I don't know that anybody has ever officially said what that target was supposed to be. I have always mostly heard the White House with some Capitol sprinkled in. For whatever it's worth, this Washington Post article is very confident it was supposed to be the Capitol.
We started hearing reports from people who had managed to get out. We started to hear about the people who decided to try jumping instead of taking their chances of being found beneath the rubble of an entire skyscraper. Those reports made my mom cry. Aaron Brown at CNN became a star in the absolute worst kind of way. He handled himself impeccably through the whole immediate crisis. I don't know how many people remember that now, but he deserved an awful lot of respect for his work back then.
I have seen some different memes floating around talking about, for as absolutely awful as 9/11 was (and it most certainly was), they will forever be grateful for 9/12. I have to tell you, I am not on board with that. 9/12 was chilling in its own way for me. I watched much of the world around me transform overnight into something I could no longer recognize as America. There were flags everywhere. Everyone wanted those "towel heads" or "sand monkeys" bombed back into the Stone Age, or doubting Afghanistan had ever gotten out of the Stone Age to begin with. A quick Google search about Kabul in the 70's will tell you otherwise, but I don't know that too many people realized that at the time.
And that's not casting aspersions. I didn't know that history at the time. I had some vague notion that the Soviets had a bad time there around the time I was born. In my head, I basically had the comparison that it was their Vietnam, but I didn't know anything specific. I know more now than I did then, but it's still not an entanglement I knew a lot about. I had just recently learned about the Taliban before 9/11, after the outcry over all the Buddhist statues they had destroyed for being un-Islamic. I knew about Osama bin Laden because of the attack on the USS Cole that had happened the previous year, and I had some memory of the embassy bombings before that. It was enough that I immediately thought bin Laden was behind the attacks as soon as I had my wits about me enough to think that through, but I didn't know at the time his personal history of being intertwined with the US throughout the Soviet campaign and subsequent spurning. We all learned a lot in the following months about all of that.
And then shit really got weird. We launched our war in Afghanistan, which the vast majority of people were on board with. And then we launched a war into Iraq on very transparently flimsy ground. I don't have the polling on that at the time, but I get the feeling most people were behind the effort at first. For as fuzzy a picture we had of Afghanistan and its leaders, everybody knew about Iraq and Saddam Hussein. In my neck of the woods, I was definitely in the minority in thinking this was an awful idea. I tried to write an article in the school paper about it, but they wouldn't publish it. They claimed it was a libel threat. I still don't buy that. I am sure they knew the community at large was going to have a shit fit at the school if they published what I had written and they didn't want to deal with the fallout. I don't necessarily blame them for that. I'm sure it was going to cause an awful lot of headaches for people in the school who were not necessarily enamored with me to begin with. But, I think it's also safe to say that my take aged well on that one.
It wasn't just Iraq, though. The Afghan war got weird, too. We displaced the Taliban easily enough, but we didn't find bin Laden right away. Things got unfocused and the mission got lost somewhere in there. In both Iraq and Afghanistan, we tried to force our style of democracy on the people there, despite that never initially being the goal, despite the people of those countries not having a lot of history or interest in that sort of government, and despite the United States wasting almost all the goodwill initially built up in the aftermath of 9/11.
And that still wasn't the weirdest thing. Remember all that performative patriotism I talked about earlier? Somehow, the Republican Party claimed that as their own. Somehow, in so many minds, because a big chunk of the Democratic Party and its electorate was not on board with the whole Iraq misadventure and was not on board with what Afghanistan was turning into and was not on board with how the government was using its power to police our own people in the name of anti-terrorism, somehow that meant that the Democratic establishment was not as American and somehow outright hated America.
Then Obama happened, and then race got tied up in all that stuff, too. The Tea Party was born, and politics have been broken ever since. It's so bad that I don't think it can be repaired until we have a complete generational turnover. It all ties back on 9/11, and I think the entire Republican identity would have been totally different if Al Gore had been in the White House that day. I'm not exactly sure how. I'm sure it all would have been weird and broken still, but it definitely would have been weird and broken differently.
Speaking of Obama happening, we finally caught up to Osama bin Laden in 2011. Obama came out and made a short statement the night that it happened. He was not jubilant or celebratory. Just matter-of-fact and to the point. The atmosphere outside the White House was quite different. Scores of people gathered to cheer and party the news. Many of them appeared to be my age or slightly younger. Chants of "USA! USA!" just went on and on and on. I wanted some sort of justice, too, if you can call the death of one man in exchange for thousands that. But this scene made me uneasy and at times downright disgusted. I decided that night I would never cheer or celebrate a death again as long as I live, no matter how vile the deceased was. I resolved I would pass that lesson down to my children, too, whenever they came to be. Now that my daughters are here, I intend to do that still.
We had gotten our pound of flesh, but the war was still not over. We would manage to pull out of Iraq later in 2011,* but we were still firmly entrenched in Afghanistan. The government we were propping up still needed propped up, and the local military and security forces still woefully unable to project power. Even at the time, there were only two real options on the table. The war was a decade old by now. We could cut our losses and go home, or surge more troops in to somehow finish the job. It should be noted here that Vice President Joseph Robinette Biden wanted to bring people home. The vast majority of the rest of the government, on both sides of the aisle, wanted more force. So more force it was. I was never exactly sure how the extra troops were supposed to accomplish what was being asked of them, and I still don't really understand how that plan was ever supposed to work. But in the troops went, and not all of them made it out. Including some from my area of the country.
*Until ISIS came along, anyway.
Things seemed to stay more or less the same in Afghanistan for the next ten years. Donald Trump got elected in the meantime, a symptom of the rot in the Republican base who managed to form a personality cult and do just enough to game the Electoral College. I went on to vehemently disagree with everything he did, said, and stood for for his four years in office with one shocking exception right towards the end of his term. He announced American troops were going to leave Afghanistan, and they were going to leave soon. Now, there were some issues with how this was done, naturally. I don't blame the Trump administration for negotiating with the Taliban. That was going to be necessary. As stated earlier, the Afghan government in place never showed that it was going to be able to keep the Taliban at bay, so the Taliban was always going to have a seat at the table one way or another. The most sensible thing to do was to try to peaceably fold them in rather than shoot their way in. But it does seem a bit odd that the government we spent two decades trying to build and legitimize never got a seat at the table. And then, of course, there was the illegal delaying of all the special visas for Afghans who worked with the military. That is a very big deal that had very big consequences when we did start getting people out.
When it became Joe Biden's turn to decide whether to pull the troops out or not, it should have been no surprise he stuck to that plan. He has been consistent all along with that, and good on him for sticking with a position that I'm sure he knew was not going to be universally loved, to put it mildly. Now, I do have some issues with how evacuations took place. I think we all do. I'm not an expert here, but it seems like we could have been pulling some smaller number of people out of Afghanistan the moment Biden took office. There had to be some sort of line there where we could have been getting some people out without also causing mass panic.
I also don't believe the administration was caught that off-guard at how quickly the Taliban took back the country. That was the whole point of getting out now, it was clear now as it had been clear for at least the last ten years that there was never any stomach for Afghans to actually fight that fight. In short, there was no universe where the Taliban were going to be meaningfully delayed, so the administration had to have known that evacuations were going to have to be very quick and necessarily get messy.
All things considered, though, with the hand Biden was dealt, I do truly believe the evacuations went okay. Not perfect, but there was always going to be chaos whenever that trigger was pulled. And obviously there was the horrific attack right at the end from ISIS-K.*. Tragic, but some attack like that was probably unavoidable once the US forces were pinned to such a bound position. We have too many enemies in that part of the world to expect otherwise.
*ISIS-K and their relationship to the Taliban is an important discussion, but a separate one from this post.
And just a few days short of the 20th anniversary of the attacks, the US is out of Afghanistan. Was it all for nothing? I wouldn't go that far. We did kill Osama bin Laden, though Al-Qaeda still lives on. It does seem to be in quite a diminished state, though. The Taliban have been maybe not quite as awful as they were before, though I imagine it is just for show for now. Just an act long enough for attention to be drawn elsewhere before quietly resuming atrocities within their own borders. Unfortunately, with the nature of the group and that region, it was clear that destroying them was never going to happen. Still, this did give twenty years for people to have a chance at education and other opportunities that would have otherwise never existed. That's not nothing, and who knows what that might still grow into. People borne out of those efforts are likely going to be a bigger existential threat to the Taliban than our military ever was.
But it is bleak. I don't deny that, and I cannot imagine the fear so many in that country must be living through while they either try to find a way out or wait for their retribution.
When I was very young, I used to sit in history class and hear about things like the Civil War and Pearl Harbor and things like that and wish I could live through some big history turning moment like that. Then 9/11 happened. I don't wish that any more and I don't wish it for my kids. It's a wish I have little control over, though. I just hope that maybe the tail of the 9/11 fallout it near the end and that some new positive force will rule the politics of their time.
I'm not holding my breath, though.
It's been very nearly a year since I've written here, and I have been twitching about it. We'll see if I pick it back up regularly again, but here is at least something to get this bug out of my system.
We just took a trip to, as you likely guessed, Ocean City, Maryland. I took a trip there when I was 12, as pictured over there. We brought Beth there when she would have been around seven months old. And now we took Norah there was just just short of a year. It was the first time all three of us saw the ocean. On the same trip we took Beth, I'm also pretty confident it was the first time my brother- and sister-in-law saw the ocean, too. None of that really directly relates to the rest of this article, but it at least gives an idea of why this place. If my Aunt Helen hadn't run off to Maryland long before I was born, probably none of this would have happened.
Today, I thought I would revisit one of my last pieces of writing a do a bit of culinary review of our latest trip. You can click all the pictures to zoom.
THE CRAB BAG
This was our first night in Maryland. I guess this is as good a place as any to air my frustrations with crab. I like crab. I like it quite a bit. But it is such a labor-intensive food. So often, it's just so much effort for so little meat. And it is not uncommon to find yourself stabbed or pinched while trying to work out all the shell. I like crab, but it isn't really what I would call enjoyable to eat. Still, you're in Maryland, you're supposed to eat at least some crab.
Now, back to this place in particular. When you're in a tourist spot, you expect to pay tourist prices. That wasn't a surprise. But this place did seem particularly proud of their stuff, even beyond the normal inflation you'd expect. It took me a minute to deal with the sticker shock here. I ordered a crab cake, because, again, Maryland. It was very good, though a bit more breaded than the menu would have lead me to believe. The cornbread I got as a side was very good, but the potato salad they had as a special was not. I definitely was not expecting it to be warm, and it wasn't a good surprise.
Beth got crab mac and cheese, which she liked the mac and cheese but not her crab. She did, however, really like Kristine's crab.
This is where the labor intensive part comes back in. Kristine ordered some version of their steam pot, and I think she liked the taste of what she got quite a bit, but she got pretty tired and frustrated of cracking and bashing all her food just to get little bits of crab. It reminded me a little bit of when they would serve steak and crab legs at Wabash on Friday nights (because hardly anybody stayed around for that dinner service), but they didn't give us anything to deal with the crab legs. They did give Kristine a cracker and a mallet, but I think she still was just over the effort it took to actually eat something.
I guess I should also note that this was the first time I tried Natty Boh. I liked it quite a bit. I really reminded me strongly of Old Style, and I am a fan of Old Style.
BULL ON THE BEACH
This place (at least the one we went to) was right by our hotel, and was almost the only reason we decided to check it out. I think we both came into this one expecting to be underwhelmed. Instead, I think this ended up being our favorite place of the whole trip. We liked it well enough that we actually went back to it as our last meal in Ocean City before we headed back into the airport and the whole mess that Philadelphia ended up becoming.*
*A story for another time.
Other than location, the big reason we chose this place was it supposed to have good oysters. When we went to Crab Bag, we were told their one guy that does oysters was off that day, to which Kristine just about cried over. What Kristine really wanted was some specialty-topped cooked oysters like we get in Panama City Beach at Shuckums and not really coming up with any places that do that. Bull on the Beach, though, had some clams done in that style, and their oysters were well-rated on Google, so we gave it a try. They were very good, and Beth was a big fan of them, too. Norah liked playing with the shells, so that was nice, too.
All of that said, these were clams, not oysters. So, we had to order some oysters as well. We decided to do steamed rather than raw. And, well, they were the single best thing I ate the whole trip. You can see we had both drawn butter and cocktail sauce. The cocktail sauce was good, but these really did not need anything more than a dunk in the butter. I could have very easily eaten a few dozen of these and been perfectly happy. I'm actually making myself hungry typing this right now. Beth was not a fan of these at all, but that was just fine. I wasn't too keen on sharing these anyway.
Kristine must have been pretty impressed with the oysters, because she ordered the fried oysters as her entree both trips. I tried one during the first trip, and it was very good. Very juicy, very meaty. It definitely seemed as if they held back their biggest oysters to fry up, and came out to very good effect. I don't remember a lot of commentary about the sides here, just about how good the oysters were. Which I suppose is a success, but it does make it a little more difficult to write about here. I think I tried the coleslaw and thought it was pretty good, which is rare. I've found I'm pickier than I realized about restaurant coleslaw, but this one passed.
I had blackened rockfish per the recommendation of the waitress. Broiled was option as well, and I probably should have taken it. In fact, I know I should have taken it, because that's what I ordered during the second trip, and I was a much bigger fan of that. There was nothing really wrong with the blackened fish necessarily, but I'm not typically a big fan of blackened anything. I get a bitter, burned taste to it that I'm not a fan of, which happened here. I don't think that's the restaurant's fault, though. I knew that about myself and I ordered it anyway, so that's on me. And, again, it was still good. But the broiled was more to my liking. As far as sides were concerned, the Old Bay corn was pretty good. The mashed potatoes were really not. Very gluey tasting. That one is on the restaurant.
Something we also noticed on just about every menu we looked at was Maryland Crab Soup. This was the first place we tried it, and and I think both Kristine and I thought was okay. It tasted a lot like vegetable beef soup, just with crab instead of beef. Good, but nothing to really write home about. Beth thought it was one of the best things she had ever eaten, though, which was just fine with us. She has always loved soup of any kind, as soon as she could eat table food. So that streak remains. She also had a fried shrimp basket for her meal, and she was very happy with that as well.
LIZZIE'S CAFE & BISTRO
Unfortunately, we forgot to get pictures of this one, but we ordered lobster rolls to go from here and ate them back at the hotel room. This turned into a bit of an ordeal.
We made our order online, and the email I got confirmed it had me get there about fifteen minutes later. We put it in as a curbside order, and I pulled in right on time and called the number they gave me. A lady (who sounded slightly older) answered the phone and seemed completely baffled at everything that was going on. She eventually put the phone down to go find somebody, and I never heard from her again.
A while later, I heard a man yell out in the background "Is somebody on the phone?" After which he picked up and started talking to me, and I started over with him. His response was "What a family-owned nightmare" and off he went to find our ticket. He was able to find it, but it turned out nobody had actually done anything with it. He was super apologetic about it, and I told him I had nowhere else to be and to go ahead and a make the order. When it came out, he wouldn't even let me bring the bags in through the window, he put them in the passenger seat himself after I gave him the okay to open the door. It was very good service, probably more than they needed to do for a pretty easily fixed mistake, but I appreciated it.
As far as the food was concerned, they they three different types of rolls, so we tried all of them. There was a New England roll, which had a little extra dressing on it with some celery, herbs, and mayo. The Connecticut roll had nothing but lobster and butter. And then there was a crab roll, because Maryland. I think Kristine and I were in agreement that the New England was the weakest of the three. The lobster was good enough that it just didn't need all the extra. It was very hard to pick between the other two. They were both excellent. I may give the nod to the crab roll just for the creativity, but I could have eaten quite a few of the Connecticut rolls.
We also tried the crab soup here, and we all thought it was pretty eh. Even Beth. It didn't really affect the meal, though. The rolls were all the star this place needed. I do still think the lobster rolls we got in Utah were a little better than this,* but I came away with absolutely no complaints.
*Somehow. I still don't know how they made those lobster rolls so damned good up there in the mountains.
The next day for lunch, Kristine decided she wanted some sushi. As luck would have it, this place was right across the street from Bull on the Beach. So we walked over, and immediately had some confusion. Google told us the place opened at 11, which is when we went over. The door told us it opened at 1. We started to try to make some other plans, but then somebody came out and waved us in, letting us know they were, indeed, open.
This place had both a sushi menu and a Chinese menu. We got Beth beef and broccoli, which was actually pretty good. I don't think we got a picture of it. We ordered three rolls and several pieces of nigiri. The nigiri and mega lobster roll were all very good, though I don't actually have a lot to say about them. They were about what you would expect from good sushi. The other two rolls, the Long Island and Alec rolls, if I remember right, I thought were a bit bland. I was a bit let down with those. The Alec roll was apparently thought up by a former chef at the place and incorporated some crab. I was expecting more out of that one. The Long Island had mango in it, which I'm not the biggest mango fan. I knew it could work in sushi, though, thanks to our trip to the Bahamas. All that said, I really didn't even taste the mango, which was disappointing, because I didn't really taste anything else, either. Since I don't have much more to say about these, I'll just give you the pictures below instead of interspersing them.
On our last night here, we decided to check out this place down on the water. The service here wasn't great, our waiter just seemed to disappear for long stretches. And the Sprite had no syrup in it, and it took a very long time to get that replaced, or for us to even be told it would be replaced. He also talked very low, and Kristine had a hard time hearing him at all.
But, enough about the negatives. The view here was very nice, which can see here of our picture of Norah, which is all we actually got of this place. They also had a play-set set up for kid right about Beth's age, so that was a big hit while we waited on our food. While Beth mostly got her wiggles out in the water on this trip, this was a good chance for her to get tired out before bed and a bit of a break for us.
She also ordered a hot dog for her meal, and we couldn't talk her out of it, so that's about all there is to say about that. It was, at least, a big, substantial hot dog and not a skinny little Oscar Mayer thing.
We ordered some more steamed oysters for our appetizer, and they were good. Not as good as Bull on the Beach, but they were perfectly find and a bit cheaper. For entrees, Kristine got crab legs, which again were very good, but about what you would expect. I ordered some soft-shell crab, which was the first time I had ever had them.
Remember all the complaints I had about crab earlier? I learned that soft-shell crab was exactly what I had been looking for. No worrying about cracking anything, no feeling like there was meat you were just never going to get to. Just go for it and eat the whole damn thing. And they were delicious.
Now, Norah had decided she was getting very tired at this point, so I was holding her while trying to figure out exactly how to attack these crabs. I'm not sure I got it quite right, but I ended up quartering them and then eating them, and that seemed to work well enough. I don't remember what Kristine got as her sides, but I got garlic mashed potatoes (which were much better than Bull on the Beach's potatoes) and some green beans, which were surprisingly good.
One other item I almost forgot! We also ordered a bowl of the "Award Winning" cream of crab soup. And let me tell you, I believe that one won an award. I can't believe I almost let it slip my mind, because I think it was the best thing we ate at Marina Deck, even as good as the soft-shell crab was.
It was a great trip for several reasons. Getting the girls in the water so much, a couple trips to the boardwalk (where Beth cleaned up on arcade games), just getting a chance to relax for a bit. As a bit of an end note, we ended up staying at the Princess Royale almost solely because all the hotels on the boardwalk were sold out. I was a bit bummed out about this at first, but it ended up being a great place for us. Almost all the rooms were suites, and the extra room was very nice with Norah. Having the kitchenette was nice for keeping a few snacks and drinks on hand, and Beth absolutely loved the balcony overlooking the pool. It was a little bit of a drive to get down to the boardwalk, but Beth liked being in the rental car, so that was all right. And, as you saw, one of the biggest things for me on any trip is finding some interesting food and restaurants to try, and OCMD came through for us very nicely.
I haven't been posting here as often as you might have thought for being stuck at home for months. Part of that is probably some quarantine blues, which we are probably all familiar with. Part of that has been going through a pregnancy with my wife and adding a new baby a couple weeks ago. And another part has been getting two different projects off the ground, which are both up and running as of right now.
First, I have launched a podcast with my brother, the Parrish Pod. I've had the idea for a long time, finally brought it up with Andrew around Christmas time. We finally started recording it about a month ago, and I think it is off to a good start. Hopefully we'll start attracting some more listeners now that we have a few episodes floating out there. It generally gets recorded on Friday and released Sunday night, that way it is locked and loaded for the Monday morning commute. You can find it at the link earlier in this paragraph, the link at the top of this page, or just search for Parrish Pod anywhere you get your podcasts. We should be on most (if not all) major platforms.
Secondly, I started a project I thought of back in March or April, but it has finally just now come to fruition. It started as an effort to replace the void baseball had left in a pandemic world, but it took me forever to figure out the right settings and the right hardware to get it to work. Now we have real baseball, but I wasn't ready to give up this project. I put a lot of hard work into creating an entire team in MLB PowerPros 2008 (which is not easy) and I still wanted to see how they would do. I could sim out a season, of course, but I feel like these games don't really give true stats the same way they would by actually playing out the games. And since I have put an awful lot of time into this game, me playing the games wouldn't really give a true indication of how good this team really is. So, I'm having the game play both sides. I'm just watching the games the same way I would on TV. I thought maybe some others out there might be curious to watch it, too.
Of course, that was a much more compelling pitch back when there was no baseball, but here we are.
I will put up several games a day at first until I get caught up on the calendar. Once I hit that point, I will start simming the games along with the calendar.
You can also find the link to that up on the top bar, or earlier in the paragraph.
I'm definitely finding ways to keep myself busy. Hopefully some readers here will find them interesting, too, and follow along in these creative endeavors. With the groundwork laid, maybe I'll find some time and energy to start posting here more regularly again, too, but we might be a little ways from that yet with the new baby. Speaking of which, we are probably just about ready for another feeding, so I suppose I should wrap this up.
I don't know how much I have written about it here,* but I have become really enamored of food since my college days. I have always really enjoyed eating it, and my physique has paid for it. That's certainly no surprise, but it has run much deeper than that I would say starting around my senior year at Wabash.
*Or anywhere else, for that matter.
It was over the summer between my junior and senior year that I was introduced to food history as a legitimate field of study. While I'd had some bits and pieces of this in conversations both in and out of class with my professors,* it never really occurred to me it could be a real discipline until I attended a talk over that summer. I attended quite a few of these talks from potential faculty over the summers, mostly for the free pizza. I'm not above admitting that. But coming away learning something new or considering something from a different perspective was a nice side effect. When it was the History Department's turn to go through the process, though, I paid a little more attention, hopefully for obvious reasons.
*Particularly Dr. Warner about Mexican food.
I don't remember the lady's name who gave this talk. She didn't end up getting the offer.* But her presentation about how World War I changed diets not only in Europe, with all the death and destruction going on, but also in the United States. While some of it make some sense that there would be some shortages with trying to supply an army, some of the other effects were less direct and led to changes that many of us now just assume Americans always ate.
*The deck was stacked against her, there was already a current professor who was going to transition onto tenure track. I'm pretty sure the decision was made before the call ever went out for applicants.
This introduction is has already gone long, so I'll try to wrap it up here. The point is, since that talk, I have spent a lot more time not only trying to get a deeper appreciation of the food I was eating and teaching myself how to really cook, but also getting into the history of cuisines. Why they evolved the way they did, and how they have bled into each other and influenced one another. I'm pretty sure this more critical eye toward food* is why I can think of at least one meal on just about every trip Kristine** and I have taken together that has really stuck with me. I've tried to compile a pretty good list of vacation food that I think about regularly.
*In the academic sense.
**It helps that she is a foodie, too, so she is totally down for planning vacations around finding great restaurants, too. Also, she took all the pictures for this post.
And so, without further ado, in no particular order:
St. Louis: Caleco's (Tortellini with Alfredo)
Since I have a lot of extended family in southeastern Missouri, we have a yearly trip to the Parrish family reunion, and that almost always means a small detour through St. Louis for a Cardinals game. Being a pretty easy drive away, I've been to a handful of Blues games as well. Just about every trip to St. Louis to me means a stop at Caleco's.
Despite all the family trips here, I discovered this place with Kristine during a trip here during her spring break. We didn't necessarily seek it out, it just happened to be an interesting looking place
*If I didn't, then I probably ordered gnocchi. For whatever that's worth to you.
**I'm assuming it was marinara, but I don't actually remember that for certain.
I surprisingly don't have a picture of this, just the sign outside. But, you can probably picture it. There is nothing really "special" about it. No unexpected twist or ingredient or anything like that. But it is just so well executed. It's one of those dishes that reminds you why something has become a classic. It is the best Alfredo sauce I've ever had, and the pasta itself is damned good, too.
Like I mentioned, you can't beat the location, so if you find yourself hungry in St. Louis with some time to kill, I can't recommend this place enough.
Bimini: Beach Club (Sushi)
This was on our honeymoon, so it's possible I have a pretty rosy view of everything on this trip. Kristine had a family friend who owned a condo at a resort in the Bahamas, so we rented her place for the week for cheap. For a minute, we didn't know if the trip would happen, as there was supposed to be a hurricane passing through. Thankfully, it generally missed the Bahamas.
We mostly had the resort to ourselves as a result of the storm. This meant we had the restaurant to ourselves most nights, which led to very attentive staff and the ability to ask the band to play pretty much whatever we wanted. We had a lot of good food here, and the lobster was crazy cheap compared to what we would pay in Indiana. We watched one morning as a fishing boat pulled up the traps of lobster and crab just off the beach we were lounging on. Of the the food we had that week, though, it's the sushi think about the most. I won't say it's the best sushi I ever had,* but it was definitely unique and maybe the most interesting sushi I have had.
*That's not to say that it wasn't good. It most definitely was. The overall quality just isn't why it stuck with me.
The thing that stuck with me was how well the sushi matched the atmosphere. If I had one word to describe it, I would say "tropical." A lot of the sushi used a lot of fruit-type notes, which is something I had definitely never come across in Indiana. If you had told me this critique beforehand, I probably would have dismissed the idea. Sweet and sushi are not two things I normally equate, but it really worked here. The sweet and savory really worked together, which likely only worked so well because we were on an island. The quality of the seafood was obviously a cut above what's available in Indiana, but I think the beachy, island atmosphere all around all us also primed our taste buds to accept the mix. Taking the same sushi in Lafayette might not have struck me nearly the same way as it did in Bimini. But it definitely worked on the island, that's the most important thing.
Galway: McDonagh's (Fish & Chips)
This was a trip we were extremely fortunate to make happen when we did. My buddy Nelson was in Galway at the time getting his doctorate, so we took the time to visit him. We spent a lot of time catching up and going around and seeing so many of the sights of Western Ireland and partaking of all the great food and drink it had to offer. And it was all so good. The one that sticks with me, though, was one of the simplest. McDonagh's in Galway claims to have the best fish & chips in Ireland, and I have no trouble believing it. I have not had fish & chips anywhere in the world since St. Patrick's Day, 2014. They were really just that good, it made the thought of getting them anywhere else feel like a letdown.
They ought to know what they're doing, of course. They've been in the same spot since 1902, so they've had plenty of time to perfect their craft. They very proudly claim there are only three ingredients to it: Potatoes, Fish, and Batter. Of course, "batter" is a bit more complicated than that, but whatever they do it, they do it perfectly. They add virtually no additional seasoning, and their tables offer only salt, pepper, and malted vinegar. And let me tell you, this fish on its own was mind-blowingly good. But once I added just a few sprinkles of the malted vinegar? It was an absolute revelation. I've been trying to chase that sort of flavor rush ever since and have never quite had it hit the same way. Nelson had primed me to expect that it would be good, and we rushed over after the parade to beat the crowd, which we just barely managed. But I think Nelson undersold the place. I walked in expecting damned good fish. I never expected to walk out of there having any other fish & chips in the world ruined for me. One of those blessing and curse things, you know?
Seriously, I have seriously contemplated making a return trip to Ireland just for McDonagh's. As a side note, I would also add that Irish Guinness tastes completely different from American Guinness. We had it explained to us that the formula is different so it can survive the trip over the Atlantic. Whatever happens to it, I also have not had a Guinness since that trip, and I don't suppose I ever will again unless we make it back to Ireland.
Washington, D.C. - Ben's Chili Bowl (Chili Half-Smoke)
I was late to the party on this one. I had been to DC a few times before this trip, but I wasn't introduced to Ben's until Man vs. Food made a visit there. After watching that segment, I knew I had to visit this place the next time I had a chance. That episode aired in 2009, and given how religiously I watched that show,* I'm sure I watched it when it first aired.
*I just happened to get in the inside track on that show. Adam Richman made an appearance on 1070 The Fan to promote the show early on, and he of course later had an episode in Indianapolis. Which was great, because there is a food scene in Indiana that goes overlooked and underappreciated. But that's probably my typical Midwestern-chip-on-the-shoulder attitude talking.
It took until March of 2016 for my next trip to DC to happen. How it happened was kinda funny. Kyle and Katelyn (Kristine's siblings) had never flown anywhere. Kyle was terrified of it and Katelyn was enamored of the idea. Both seemed like good reasons to get them on a plane, and Southwest just happened to have a really cheap flight from Indy to DC. I drove overnight to pick them up from the airport, because Beth would have been seven months old at the time. We didn't want to deal with putting her car seat into a rental car and flying most of the other baby stuff we needed at the time for a week or so trip.
There is definitely more I could write about this trip, but I'll keep it to Ben's. We got there before things got busy, which I think is one of the first things new parents learn to do. I was worried they would make us sit at the counter, since we were only a group of five if they were counting Beth, and she wasn't ordering off the menu yet. The staff was super gracious and gladly let us take the table and waited on us. I was (and remain) thankful for that small gesture. We got some chili fries to share. I got the half-smoke and the girls both got rice bowls. I don't remember what Kyle ordered.
I'm fairly sure I swore at how good that chili was. This place is iconic for a reason, and you would expect the menu item it's named after to be good. But I think what took me a little off-guard was how good the sausage was. It had that very nice snap you expect of a natural-cased sausage, but is so often lacking now. And the meat itself was just so good. I don't know exactly what sort of beef and pork go into those, and I'm probably better off that way, but it was noticeably better than I think any other sausage or hot dog I've had. The pairing of chili and half-smoke explained perfectly why this place has become an attraction on its own. The food is strong enough to stand on its own. But the generosity and compassion of founder Ben Ali throughout its history truly makes it into an institution. I would be happy to give them my business on that alone, but that it's so damned good on top of it just seals the deal.
Las Vegas - Scarpetta (Spaghetti)
We whisked off to Vegas for my 30th birthday and Kristine booked a table at Scott Conant's restaurant for our first night. That was such a fun trip for a lot of reasons, but I should probably try to keep this focused for a bit. I actually wasn't all the impressed or taken with the Cosmopolitan, but I do have to admit this was a damned fine restaurant. It looked nice, we had a table overlooking the fountains at the Bellagio just as the sun started to set. It definitely fit the scene of what I would have expected the place of a celebrity chef to be like in Vegas.
I will note here, though, that we somehow did not get any pictures of this one, which is a shame. It was the most elegantly plated noodles I will likely ever see. We did make a bit of a mistake, though. The pictures make this seem like an awfully small serving of spaghetti, but it is rich as hell. We definitely over-ordered in anticipation that the entree was going to be small, but we would have been fine ordering half as much. The pasta itself, though, was cooked to a perfect al dente, and the sauce was to die for. I was slightly worried, as I'm not a big basil fan, but I loved it. My only problem here was that we had gotten up so early to drive to Chicago for our flight and I didn't nap on the plane, so by the time we got to dinnertime in Nevada, I was wiped out. That was only furthered with a belly full of perfect pasta. I'm pretty sure we ended up back in the hotel room shortly after this meal and I passed out for about twelve hours.
Kristine, rightfully bored with me, went down to the casino instead. She found a goldfish-themed slot machine and ended up winning $40 or so. I'm happy to report I bounced back fine the next day, and we both got super hot on the roulette wheel at MGM the next day. That made things slightly better when we learned why everyone hates Spirit Airlines to end that trip.
New Albany - Lady Tron's (Just Everything)
Finding this place was 100% pure luck, but I am so glad we did.
We had a two-night comped stay at the Southern Indiana Horseshoe,* so we took advantage for Kristine's birthday a few years back. The problem was, though, Kristine forgot some of her prescriptions when she was packing. It took some phone calls, but she was able to get a couple day supply filled at a pharmacy in New Albany. As we were driving around trying to find the place, we saw this funky looking trailer in the middle of an otherwise pretty staid brick downtown. It definitely caught our attention, and after doing some quick research on it, we decided we had to check it out the next day.
*At the time, this was still a riverboat and, well, a Horseshoe. It has since been re-branded as a Caesar's (which I'm pretty sure was the case when it first opened) and remodeled to bring the gambling back on land. We haven't revisited since all this has happened, though.
We did, and it so thoroughly surpassed our expectations. The interior was just as funky and dorky as the inside, and the dude inside running the front of the house stuff was so nice. We were so impressed with it and talked with him at length. I think we broke his heart a little bit when he found out we were from out of town, so we wouldn't become regulars. If we were closer, we most definitely would be. The menu was all soups and sandwiches named for female sci-fi heroines, which just added to the atmosphere. They let me put on their Chewbacca mask while we waited on the food.*
*I guess I should mention we were the only customers in the place at the time.
Frankly, I don't think either of us were remotely prepared for how good the food would be once it came out. First off, the sandwiches were huge. I don't think either of us ended up needing the mushroom soup we ordered to pair with it, as good as it was. Kristine got the LT and I had the Ripley. As you can see from the menu, these were not just your typical diner fare. These were thoughtfully crafted, well-balanced sandwiches. We were both a bit blown away and just couldn't really believe the level of cooking we were getting from a blue and orange trailer with a cut-out lady robot outside.
If I remember right, the chef and owner had cut her teeth in fine dining restaurants in San Francisco, but decided to move back home to do her own thing. And God damn, she is doing it. I was a little worried this would be exactly the sort of place that COVID-19 would kill, and in looking at their Facebook page to refresh my memory for writing this, it appears they have been closed for all of May and June. It does look like they are going to try to reopen in mid-July. So, you know, if you're in the area, please give them your support. We might have to make a special trip down after Norah is born just for this place.
Salt Lake City - Freshie's (Lobster Roll)
Kristine was sent out to Utah for a work trip, so it just cost for a couple extra seats on the plane for Beth and I to come along. So we did.
Let me first say that I didn't really know what we would be getting into in Salt Lake City. But I was really super impressed in general. It didn't feel like a big city the way, like, Chicago or even Indianapolis does. It seemed so much more wide open and quiet and just slower paced. It was really nice. If it weren't for all the family here and my general stubborn Midwestern-ness, I would be perfectly happy to land there.
Anyway, there was another restaurant we checked out the first day we were there called Pretty Bird that almost made the cut. It was some of the juiciest chicken I've ever had, and to put it bluntly, they do not fuck around when they call it hot chicken. I normally handle heat pretty well, but this place got me.
As good as that was, though, it was these lobster rolls that really did it for me. We saw an ad for this place in our hotel, which informed us that it had won World's Best Lobster Roll. I can't speak for Kristine, but I know my first thought was "No fucking way." There was just no way in my mind that a place surrounded by all those mountains, hosted the Winter Olympics, and so many hundreds of miles away from anywhere they would conceivably be pulling wild lobsters out of the water could have stood a chance in any real contest like that. Of course, we had to make a visit with a claim like that. And I'll admit, on the drive there, my expectation was going to be like the lobster rolls we had at Luke's in DC: good, but I don't really get the hype.
As you can probably guess, after the first bite, I understood the hype. I still don't understand how this was so good in the mountains in Utah, but my goodness. Not only was it the best lobster I had ever eaten,* it was one of the best things I had ever eaten, end of discussion. We had some lobster bisque and clam chowder that were also very good, too, but that lobster roll. My goodness. I understood how they could have won that award then.
*Yes, even better than the Bahamas.
This was definitely not some big, showy place, either. It was just nestled into what looked to be a mostly residential neighborhood. Nice houses, but nothing really out of the ordinary. But then you walked into this place and really just showed me what lobster really ought to be. This was the only other thing that really hit me the same sort of way the Irish fish & chips did.
I guess, looking back now, part of the appeal was the surprise of it. In both cases, the places were talked up for sure. And I expected them to be good. But they just blindsided me with just how amazing. I don't know how many times life will bring me back out to Utah, but I'm definitely heading back here whenever it does.
That's the list for now. This ended up being quite the undertaking, but I'm really happy with how it turned out. I think I also accidentally ended up doing the list in chronological order based on my first visit. That wasn't really how I intended to do it, but that's how things work out some times. There were some other places I could have added to this list, but with as long as it ended up being, I had to put the places that really hit me as something special. I guess the first Honorable Mention as my example here would be Miller's Pub in Chicago, right next door the the Palmer House. I popped in there just because of its location while Kristine was off getting pictures for a wedding she was in, and I fell in love with the place right away. I loved the drinks they had on tap, and the food has always been great. But, really, I think I love that place more for the location and atmosphere more than anything else. There are a lot of really cool places in Chicago that I love and visit regularly, but Miller's is the one place in Chicago that feels like home to me. That obviously makes it no less special, but it's not really about the food itself. Hopefully that makes sense.
Some day I'll probably have to write the opposite list. Places that stick in my memory for how bad or terribly over-hyped they were. This list, though, is a lot more fun and positive to write, though. I believe I'm on record in several places in really trying to build people up and spread positivity, though. I think I even took a pledge about it. So maybe this list is enough. The world would probably be a better place if we all spent more time talking about the stuff we like instead of the things we don't.
UPDATE: Kristine found some pictures she had squirrelled away elsewhere. So here is what she wanted me to share.
It probably comes as no surprise that I spend a lot of time thinking about the Civil War, and I have watched the Ken Burns’ documentary so many times I have lost count. It really makes me upset every time it comes off Netflix (as it is right now). I truly believe that slavery is this nation’s original sin, and our history can very easily be traced through our race relations. This friction between North and South originated over slavery, blew up into open war over slavery, and has simmered ever since about how to we integrate slaves and their descendants since finally abolishing slavery.
You might remember a while back now when Fox News sent Jesse Watters to ask people who won the Civil War, and he of course found all the usual idiots that show up anybody comes to ask obvious questions on the street for TV. I would argue, though, that the Civil War never really ended. Sure, we stopped the organized warfare, but look at the sort of culture wars we fight and how we vote. The ideals never went away, even if slavery technically ended. And when it comes to culture wars, I definitely think there is a case to be made that the South has done quite well for themselves in the intervening years.
To that end, I have thought a lot about John Brown. He was born into comfortable enough circumstances. His father had large roles in the early histories of both Case Western Reserve University and Oberlin College as well as offering safe houses in the Underground Railroad. John took up the family trade of tanning as well as the family ideas about God and slavery. He was quite a fan of the former and quite against the latter. He managed to start his own successful tannery, and he very well could have rested on this success, spoken out against the evils of slavery and the treatment of Native Americans, and he would have had a comfortable life.
If you know anything about history, though, you know that living a comfortable life is no way to enter the historical record.
Instead, two things happened that seem to have lit a fire under John Brown. First, he tried to open a new tannery in Ohio, which failed in an economic panic. Second, Elijah Lovejoy (a prominent abolitionist preacher) was murdered by a pro-slavery mob. He declared from that point on, he would dedicate his life to the abolition of slavery. And he meant it.
He probably could have done well enough giving speeches and writing in abolitionist newsletters, but he quite famously said “These men are all talk. What we need is action!” So he took action. First in Kansas, where he made a bit of a national mark leading raids and specifically hunting down slave hunters. It was violent and ruthless, to be sure, but it was most certainly action.
From his time in Kansas, and the success of violence in creating Kansas as a free state, John Brown decided he could replicate this success on a national scale. To that end, he was going to take a militia mostly made up of former slaves and raid the Army arsenal in Harpers Ferry. Whether he actually succeeded in capturing or destroying the arsenal seems irrelevant. The affects were more important. John Brown envisioned mass slave uprisings after his raid, where the South would have no choice but to be rid of slavery, either by choice or by force.
The militia did not exactly materialize. Brown took 21 (mostly white) men instead of the 4500 he envisioned. Somewhat surprisingly, given the lack of manpower, the raid initially went quite well. Brown and his men took the arsenal with minimal resistance and minimal bloodshed. But word quickly reached the White House, at which point the Army showed up in force.
Brown was offered surrender, but he refused. He wished to die there, but he ended up captured and quickly hanged afterwards.
The Civil War may have been inevitable anyway, but this raid and its aftermath ensured it would happen during this time. It was the spark that finally lit the fuse on the powder keg of slavery in this nation.
To that end, John Brown might be the most important figure to ever live in the United States of America. Unfortunately, we are still fighting his fight.
We have seen racial tensions flare up again in this country. We have had a week of protest. Most of it peaceful, but yes, some of it violent and destructive. I don’t want to necessarily condone the vandalism and destruction and looting, but God damn. How many perfectly peaceful and clever demonstrations can we ignore and many times outright condemn as a people before this is the only avenue left? Frankly, we have only gotten what we deserve. And even at that, we have probably gotten off lightly.
I would list all the senseless incidents of police violence on black individuals (to say nothing of the community as a whole), but even a list of major incidents in the last five or ten years would be literal pages long. Given the responses we have seen to these incidents and to the aftermath of these incidents makes it very clear that the spirit of the Confederacy lives on within both our citizenry and our law enforcement.
I do not know if this is a culture issue with our police or a personnel issue, but I would reckon it is some combination of both. We have seen it even here in my town, in Lafayette. The police deployed tear gas on two consecutive nights here, and on both occasions, the reporter on the ground Tweeted in real time that there was no clear provocation for it. We have seen it across the nation during this week and throughout the course of the fight for civil rights that not only does force seem to be the first tool police reach for when dealing with a crowd, but the only tool they seem to have at their disposal. It also seems that in almost every instance of senseless police violence we have captured on camera since the advent of smart phones has also shown police to reach for force first. We have a very noteworthy story of a police officer being fired and blackballed for refusing to use force and instead de-escalating a situation with a black man using diplomacy instead.
If we are ever to have true racial equality in this nation, we must change the culture of policing here. It seems a huge first step in making this change is changing the tools we use for policing. We have seen the rapid militarization of the police, and that has led to disaster. I think we need to follow the examples I have personally witnessed in Ireland and the UK instead. Let’s go the complete other direction. We should disarm the police.
This is not to say that police should not use force in all situations, but it should be rare and it should be done by officers who have specifically been trained to use it in extreme situations. In the UK example, there are specialists who carry firearms and are called in when the situation calls for it. But it is very rare, and police offers in the British Isles just do not see a need to carry a firearm during their normal course of duty. Additionally, I don’t think any of us really see the UK or Ireland as particularly lawless or violent places, especially since the end of The Troubles. During my time in Ireland, I certainly never felt unsafe or even remotely uncomfortable anywhere. I saw the Guarda around plenty, but they were unobtrusive and faded into the background easily. The complete opposite of police officers here, and I say that as a white man who has had nothing more serious than a speeding ticket.
Even if we take the firepower away from the police, that will not solve everything, clearly. George Floyd was not shot by police. He was suffocated by a knee to the neck. Obviously, nobody is going to take knees away from police officers, so we need different training for police. I was quite shocked to learn that police academies are almost like a summer camp. Indiana’s police training lasts for 600 hours, or 25 days. And that only became mandatory in 1972. A month is not nearly enough time to become fully trained in anything but solving Rubik’s Cubes.
In that amount of time, it is no wonder we have the police force that we have. That is not enough time to learn all the different facets and conflict resolution strategies our police should have, and it is certainly not enough time to weed out the sort of people who have no business being a police officer. Police academies should be running at least on the order of a junior college. Wearing that badge gives police the ability to take away our most fundamental of rights as human beings, let alone as American citizens: our rights to liberty and the right to live. It seems you should at least have to spend the equivalent time to earn an associate’s degree to earn the privilege of doling out that sort of justice.
I would still feel better if police didn’t carry firearms as a matter of course, but maybe it wouldn’t be such a problem if academies were doing more complete, more well-rounded training of officers that also doubled as a way to weed out people who could fake it for a month because they have a power fantasy.
If we can start to change those sorts of culture and perception problems around the police, maybe we would also see more diversity on police forces, which was just discussed on the FiveThirtyEight podcast to be one of the most effective ways to cut down on incidents of police violence. It took a high threshold to take effect, but maybe if we saw more diverse police forces more routinely, the threshold would not be so high. I would think being constantly recorded would have that effect, but it seems pretty clear by now we need a change of who is a police officer. Monitoring is clearly not enough. So let’s get some people on the police force who might know a thing or two about what it is like to be unfairly targeted by the law.
This is all a pipe dream, I am sure. We might see some incremental change in policing from these protests, but as noted, there have been plenty incidents and reactions to bad policing in my socially conscious life, starting with some vague memories of Rodney King in LA. If anything has changed, it has been police becoming more heavily armed and more heavily armored. Let’s stop depersonalizing the police so they can stop depersonalizing their communities. It is just one step in scrubbing away our original sin, but if we can at least let these black men live out their natural days, that seems like a bar worth clearing.
According to the puck some nice boy gave Beth last Friday, this is the tenth season for the FHL.* Like any young league, it has had its ups and downs getting established, but it seems to be moving in the right direction now. The league is up to ten teams now, most of which have a few seasons under their belt. Danville is the most established team at this point, having joined way back in 2011, though there have been teams in the Watertown and Danbury areas on and off since the league's founding in 2010. So, now, a decade later, let's take a look at where the teams are playing and how they are drawing.
*Well, apparently the "Federal Prospect Hockey League" or FPHL now, but I think that name is stupid clunky and I'm refusing to use it anywhere else here.
I have taken screenshots of all the arenas in the league using Google Maps, both overhead and at street level. Of course, some pictures are better than others. Delaware especially just did not have a good street level picture. I did my best, I promise. The overhead views are more to get an idea of how the arenas are situated in their respective cities. I have also included links to each teams most recent home game as I could find on YouTube which will give a good idea of what the inside of each arena looks like. Of course, this gives an idea of the ice and seating areas. It is doubtful these broadcasts are going to give any sort of sense of the concourses and amenities of each arena, but I still think this will give a good sense of the state of the league after its first ten years.
If you are just now learning about the league and are curious about your local team, the league does provide a full team directory, and here is a graphical footprint for the league if you want to get an idea of how far these buses are traveling between games.
Current Record: 1-27-0-0 (3 pts.)
Arena: The Rink at Battle Creek
Average Attendance: 355
Total Attendance: 3545
Population: 51,247 (2018 estimate)
Current Record: 21-3-1-1 (66 pts.)
Championships: 1 (2019)
Arena: Winston-Salem Fairgrounds Annex
Average Attendance: 2897
Total Attendance: 23,173
Population: 255,969 (2019 estimate)
Current Record: 8-15-3-1 (31 pts.)
Arena: Columbus Civic Center
Average Attendance: 2708
Total Attendance: 18,954
Population: 194,160 (2019 estimate)
Founded: 2019 (Previously Danbury Whalers [2010-2015], Danbury Titans [2015-2017])
Current Record: 18-6-1-2 (58 pts.)
Championships: 1 (2013, as Whalers)
Arena: Danbury Ice Arena
Average Attendance: 1063
Total Attendance: 8504
Population: 84,730 (2018 estimate)
Current Record: 15-10-1-2 (49 pts.)
Arena: David S. Palmer Arena
Average Attendance: 948
Total Attendance: 7587
Population: 30,898 (2018 estimate)
Current record: 8-17 (24 pts.)
Arena: Centre Ice Arena
Average Attendance: 555
Total Attendance: 3886
Population: 3643 (2018 estimate)
Current Record: 11-12-2-2 (39 pts.)
Arena: First Arena
Average Attendance: 3110
Total Attendance: 27,991
Population: 27,204 (2018 estimate)
Current Record: 13-13-0-2 (41 pts.)
Arena: Mentor Civic Arena
Average Attendance: 500
Total Attendance: 2498
Population: 47,273 (2018 estimate)
Current Record: 13-9-0-2 (45 pts.)
Championships: 1 (2016)
Arena: McMorran Arena
Average Attendance: 1165
Total Attendance: 5827
Population: 28,927 (2018 estimate)
Note: I could not find a current broadcast for the Prowlers for whatever reason, so this still image of the arena is the best I can offer.
Current Record: 14-10-1-2 (46 pts.)
Championships: 2 (2015, 2018)
Arena: Watertown Municipal Arena
Average Attendance: 916
Total Attendance: 7328
Population: 25,290 (2018 estimate)
Some final thoughts after that info dump. When the FHL first came to Danville, I was very hopeful but guarded at first. Danville had tried so hard to find a good replacement since losing the Wings to Indianapolis. The Wings were great hockey, and I remember them drawing very well. I actually remember them drawing better than the current Dashers, but some research has shown that actually isn't true. The Dashers are drawing at the exact same level as the Wings ever did. In any case, I'm sure I've written about it before, and one day I'll probably write a book about this. After the Wings left, there was a couple year gap until the Pounders came in 2006. That was just, to be blunt, such awful hockey. Games were routinely played in the 20's, which coincidentally was probably also about what the average attendance was for those games in Danville. After that league moved on, Danville had another junior team, the Inferno. That was pretty decent hockey that drew well again, but again the team moved to Indianapolis after a few seasons and then almost immediately folded. The Dashers picked up right where the Inferno left off and never looked back.
The FHL provides a really solid level of play for a great price. I guess I haven't checked other teams prices, but Danville charges $11 for an adult ticket. It's hard to beat that for a professional ticket. I also barely spent more than that on concessions to feed myself and Beth last weekend. The play is great, the atmosphere is good, and it would only be better if the arenas were more full.
That's where I'm left scratching my head a little bit. I don't understand why this league isn't drawing better than it is. I don't know what kind of advertising is happening in each of these cities, but I'm assuming they are doing what they can to get the word out. And maybe this sort of attendance is just what you would expect for low-level professional leagues. Not everyone is naturally drawn to this level as I am, I suppose. But, let's go back through these numbers. By percentage, here are the most full arenas:
Carolina: 2897/3050 - 95%
Elmira: 3110/3784 - 82.2%
Delaware: 555/700 - 79.3%
Watertown: 916/2000 - 45.8%
Danville: 948/2350 - 40.3%
Columbus: 2708/7259 - 37.3%
Danbury: 1063/3050 - 34.9%
Port Huron: 1165/3568 - 32.7%
Mentor: 500/1600 - 31.2%
Battle Creek: 355/1600 - 22.2%
Only three teams are more than half filling their arenas, and one of those is only a 700-seat arena. If you'd like, though, just swap Delaware for Columbus, as Columbus is drawing the third-most fans per game, but are playing in a building that is clearly pretty outsized for this league. These numbers just seem too low for the level of play demonstrated by the FHL. I really hope more people start tuning in, so to speak, now that games are available for free on YouTube as well. I'm hopeful that will allow people to be more plugged into these teams for the full year, not just the games happening at home. And more people plugged in hopefully generates more word of mouth buzz, which generates more interest, and the thing keeps growing. That's obviously what the FHL is banking on, too.
The people are there. To use Danville as an example, as of the last census, there are a little over 33,000 people in Danville alone. That's not even counting some pretty immediate suburbs (in no particular order) like Covington (2645), Georgetown (3474), Westville (3202), and Oakwood (1502). Add those four together, we'll call the Danville metro area something like 44,000 people. That's not even counting some bigger cities a bit further away that might draw some fans, like Lafayette (in my case) and Champaign, to name two cities with Big Ten universities without varsity hockey. Crawfordsville (15,915) is another potential draw, only being about a half hour's drive away, also with a potential audience of college kids. Out of all those people, it really seems like squeezing out another thousand people shouldn't be that big of an ask. Routinely drawing 2000 people to a 2350 seat arena would be a much different and more exciting feel than just under a thousand.* And it definitely ought to be in reach for an area that size.
*If you were curious, that would be 85.1% capacity crowd.
Like I said, I can't blame the players. They're bringing the product. I haven't put in the research for these other markets, but I would imagine they are all in a bit similar situations. Lots of untapped potential. I hope the FHL has some smarter people than me on how to get these people into the arenas, because the players deserve it.
Editor's note: I've thought a lot about this article since I wrote it. I decided against writing an entirely new post, so this one was updated on 1/16/20 to include the city population, to give an idea of the various market sizes of the league. I also updated the records of the teams at that point as well, because why not? I did not change the attendance numbers, because I used them later in the article and I didn't want to rewrite that portion.
I'm supposed to be putting together my final paper/project for this Assessment class, but I've found myself here instead. I suppose life would get pretty boring if we all just did what we're supposed to do. Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans, right?
This is something I've thought about for, well, probably all my life, really. Well before I knew the words for such things. But I think that's true for all of us. It's natural for us all to figure out what it means to be a boy or a girl, both on the larger scale and to us personally. And I think there is always a bit of fluidity in our notions about this, about the different personas and phases we try on as we try to figure out what fits on us and just what the hell we're supposed to do on this Earth anyway.
I've been thinking about this in particular again, though, since I would say Andrew Luck retired. There was a lot of talk about why he decided to walk away from football, if he should have walked away, if players of earlier generations could have ever done the same thing or what would have happened if anybody had. It got me thinking if I could have done the same thing if I had been in his shoes. I think there are points in my life* where I would not have understood why. You just don't walk away from that kind of money, and (maybe more importantly) you don't walk away from a team and a city like that.
*Which, if it means anything, Andrew Luck is three years younger than me.
Now that I'm a bit older and (hopefully) wiser, I get it. There are things worth throwing away your body and your sanity for, but a job just isn't one of them. Even if your job is being an NFL quarterback. He's done quite well for himself. I trust he will be sensible with his money. And he felt he had other things he could and should be doing.
And that loops back around to today, what finally motivated me to write this out. Before I sat down to start writing school stuff, I opened YouTube to kick off some music. But, instead of that, YouTube offered up a bit about Mr. Rogers. I don't really know why. Beth has recently gotten into watching Mr. Rogers on the PBS Kids app, maybe she's watched some clips on YouTube as well. In any case, I couldn't resist it. I watched it, and found myself just inexplicably crying almost immediately.
I don't know what that reaction is. I had similar reactions to watching Won't You Be My Neighbor?, which I would highly recommend by the way. There is just something about watching a man who just seems to have an infinite well of caring and compassion for everybody. And somebody who used that caring to talk to children, to help them understand the world around them armed with nothing more a soothing voice, some puppets, and honesty. He wouldn't put it this way, but I do admire his commitment to talk to children on their level and do so without any bullshit. It gets pointed to a lot, but for good reason. The episode done in the wake Robert Kennedy's assassination is just brilliant. It might have been more geared to adults than the usual program, but the reason it works is just the same as any other episode.
So, this all touches a nerve with me now, but I'll admit that I didn't always get it. I obviously understood that Mr. Rogers was a grown man, but I don't think I would have told you, even in my high school or college years, that he was a man I would have liked to grow up to be. He was too soft, he wasn't active, he was dorky and too straight-laced. I had a picture of masculinity that was maybe more traditional. You were more manly if you could be bigger or stronger or just somehow better and more aggressive. Not being a very big guy myself, that didn't always work out for me very well. But I learned that I was pretty bright, and I could cut pretty deeply with my words when I needed to. That was my edge, so to speak.
Something changed along the way, though. I was getting older, and it didn't feel like a lot of things were going right for me, and I wasn't quite sure how I was going to get going in the right direction. Or even what that direction was. I'll write about that part in more detail some other day. I've got a whole article on failure I've been composing in my head. Anyway, one of the things I noticed about myself is that I had become pretty lonely. I wasn't doing a good job at connecting to the people around me, and the people I did have connections to weren't physically close to me.* And I think these ideas I had come to about what made a man had an awful lot to do with it.
*Obviously that doesn't include Kristine. I was at least smart enough to hang on to her and marry her. And thank God for that.
I don't think I'm some special case when it comes to this, either. I think I had a pretty similar view as to what makes a man as an awful lot of men, especially in this area of the country. But I came to learn about myself that, not only was I not doing a very good job at living up to this idea, but it was actively harming me. It was about this time that two things happened pretty close together. For one, I become aware of "toxic masculinity." Secondly, Brad Montague started becoming more involved with the Fred Rogers Center.
The first thing gave me a vocabulary to put to the things I was feeling and becoming uncomfortable with being and participating in. The second thing gave me another lens into what I could be as a man and what I could be doing. Now, it may seem like the second thing is awfully random, and you're not exactly wrong. But, there is a history here. Let me take a minute to explain that a bit.
I first heard of Brad through Dr. Demento, which searching the archive must have been 2002. I heard "I Would Still Love You," and I laughed so hard. It stuck with me enough that, a few years later in 2005, I reached out to Brad. My buddy Nelson and I were hosting our morning radio show, and we thought it would be fun to host a concert. We just needed somebody to play. I thought "Well, getting a comedy musician probably isn't that hard." And, by golly, apparently it isn't! Brad readily agreed to it, spent a couple nights in my dorm in Morris Hall. He kicked around the show with us, played a set that morning, played a show that night. Just generally hung out with us for the time in-between. He turned out to be a really cool dude. We became Facebook friends and kinda stayed peripherally in touch through the years.
Then, the Pep Talk happened. It propelled Brad into a totally different atmosphere and opened up so many doors for him. It was weird as hell for me, because I saw it when Brad first posted it. I liked it, it's cute and uplifting. But I didn't give it a ton of thought. But then it started popping up on my Facebook feed, and people would ask me, "Hey, have you seen this?" And I would say, "Yeah, actually. I know that guy!" Huge, viral YouTube videos are not supposed to happen to people you know.
Anyway, Brad was doing the Kid President thing, which led to him publicly espousing his admiration for Fred Rogers and now his expanded work over at Montague Workshop. And then Brad posted the picture you see up there, which also went weirdly viral. And, damn. Did that hit me hard. That might have been life altering.
So, what did I need when I was younger? I think I needed somebody who would have told me that it was okay to be a little sensitive. Because I had been hiding that hard for a long time, to varying degrees of success. That not only is it okay to be creative, but it is good to be creative and to put that out for everybody to see. I did that a lot when I was really young, and I would get good feedback and everybody would dote on it. But, as I got just a little bit older, it somehow became frowned upon in school. By teachers and my peers. So, I kept doing it, but I got a lot more selective about who got to see it and when. Some different encouragement, and some differently placed encouragement, would have gone an awful long way. If somebody would have sat down with me and started shaping whatever native talent was there to begin with would have gone a long way.
Hell, if somebody had just told me, "Hey, your story matters. Your story is important." That would have gone a long way.
I did get that bit in college. I remember a time after picking Nelson up from the airport, we decided to eat at Little Mexico and we ran into Dr. Joy Castro. We said our hellos and chatted for a few minutes, but we didn't linger. Didn't want to pester her too much in her off hours, you know? To our surprise, when we went up to pay, we were told that our bill was taken care of. We both sent an email of thanks, and I remember getting a response back that essentially said it was her pleasure to give a little gift to a pair of budding writers like us. It's a little thing, and I hadn't thought about that episode in years. But getting that response back at that time was such a needed boost.
So, now I am a parent and a full-fledged adult. That's terrifying sometimes. But now I feel like I have my feet under me a bit. I have a better idea of the kind of person I want to be and the kind of person I want to be known as. It's been a culmination of a lot of thought and experimentation and introspection and observing the world and the direction things are going. It might have taken me thirty-three years, but I think I've finally got a handle on the kind of man I want to be.
I'm sure I'm about the millionth person to do this, but my curiosity finally got the best of me today, and I did my own side-by-side taste test of the Original and Impossible Whoppers.
I've read a little bit on this to begin with, and essentially everything I read praised the patty's ability to imitate beef, but then really harped on how it is also basically just as unhealthy for you as a regular burger. Or, in some cases, did that, but also had to go out of their way to tell you how rarely they eat fast food and looked at disdain on the entire industry.
To start, that Forbes article is just awful. Really just one of the worst things I've ever read. In no way should anybody have ever published Mr. Rubenstein's opinion of anything fast food, regardless of context. If I were the editor, I would have just outright rejected it. I wouldn't have even offered a chance for revision. It is just so clearly a terrible mismatch between subject and author, I don't know how it ever got assigned in the first place.
Luckily for you guys, I most definitely do not have this sort of aversion to fast food.
Secondly, if anybody is ever looking to eat healthy at Burger King,* you're on a fool's errand anyway. The health benefits mean very little to me. I am much more receptive to arguments that talk about lessening the impact of industrial farming practices, both on moral and environmental grounds. I haven't read any of those, but I'm sure they exist. But saying that this product failed because it is no healthier than the "real" alternative is missing the point.
*Or any other fast food restaurant, to be honest.
With all that out of the way, here are my take-aways. I ordered two Whoppers, both with cheese. I ate the original one first, though that was just the luck of what I grabbed out of the bag first. I could make arguments either way about the order in which I ate them, but I think I've concluded that I'm better off doing it the way I did. The goal to my mind is make a plant burger as close to the meat product as possible, so having that taste fresh in my mouth was the best way to make that comparison.
My first impression was the same as everyone else's I've seen so far: Just So. Much. Salt. Fast food is notoriously salty anyway, but this was to a complete other level. At this point, it's been close to an hour since I ate the Impossible Whopper, and I still can't get the taste of salt off my tongue. Even after drinking roughly 22 ounces of water* and most of my Dr. Pepper. That alone nearly made this inedible.
*As measured by my trusty Wabash Nalgene. Think one of these, but darker red and Wabash. Or, you know, I guess I could take a picture. Despite working at a major university, I have no idea if this is still a big thing with college students. I also don't know if they were ever as universally popular at Purdue as they were at Wabash. I swear at least 90% of campus owned this exact Nalgene when I was there.
That major criticism aside, the rest of the patty could probably pass as meat. I would describe its texture as "meaty," quotation marks and all. It is definitely a different texture than beef, but if I had not literally just eaten a beef burger, I'm not sure I would have given it too much thought. I would notice that it is noticeably drier, but had nobody told me what I was eating, I likely would have chalked it up to a cooking error or just too-lean beef rather than "literally not beef." It melded well enough with all the other toppings.* It wasn't some foreign object in my mouth that clearly seemed out of place. It was, more or less, like eating every other burger. It did have a different color to it than beef. The patty had a bit more of a reddish-tinge to it. But, again, I'm not sure that's a difference I would have noted if I hadn't been specifically observing it for differences.
*Which, just for the record, I always get Whoppers with cheese but no pickle or onion.
So, upon this bit of reflection, did the Impossible Burger do what it set out to do? I think I'd have to say, largely, yes. It's not a perfect imitation, but it's close enough. If you had put a blindfold on me and told me to taste this burger, I would have probably told you* "Jesus, that's like three times too much salt." And after a bit more chewing, I would have told you "It's kinda dry." But I don't think I would have told you "This is plants." For now, I think that is the hurdle the Impossible Burger is trying to clear. I am sure there will be improvements on it. I can tell you, from working in the College of Agriculture here at Purdue, that the Food Science department is a pretty magical place. They will figure out some way to get better flavor on these patties instead of just "add salt." And they will come up with some way to make it either actually juicier or at least feel juicier. But this definitely is a base to start from that, again, largely succeeds in the "Is this beef or not?" imitation question.
*Well, you know, after I got done protesting the blindfold and wondering what sort of trick you were playing on me.
Is it healthier? Is it something you should be eating all the time? No. But that's not the point, and I think that's a misguided way to look at a vegetarian or vegan diet to begin with. Is it lower environmental impact, and did any sentient being have to die for this? Those seem to be better questions to ask, and until we discover something pretty shocking about soy and potatoes, that seems promising.
I did something last night I had not done in years, but it was just as rewarding and satisfying as I remembered it being. I kept score while I watched the Cubs and Giants, which is something I don't think I have done for a game since Beth was born.
While I've known how to do the scorebook since little league,* it never occurred for me to do it for a Major League game until college. This might require a little bit of background to explain.
*I don't know what percentage of little leaguers know how to do that, but I'd imagine it's fairly high. Even so, being the coach's kid probably also helped.
Back during my era of Wabash,* every freshman had to go through a class called a tutorial. These classes weren't "serious academia" subjects, but instead just something professors had a passion for and to give freshman an idea of how to adjust to college-level work given a subject they would be interested in. When I was admitted to Wabash, I got a blue card with a list of all the available choices, and I was asked to rank my top three. I know I put baseball as number one, video games as number two (which was the tutorial my buddy Nelson was in), and I do not remember my third choice or any of the rest of the card. That was back in 2004, so it has been a bit.
*And very possibly still now, though I haven't gone out and confirmed this.
Anyway. As you might have guessed, I did get into the baseball class with Dr. Butler. We were promised a trip to Wrigley as part of the class, but those tickets proved to be too difficult to get, so we had to settle for Cincinnati. That still worked out beautifully. I think by the time Andrew took the same course two years later, Cincinnati had become the default trip. If I remember right, their class acted a fool enough to land themselves on the Jumbotron.
I'm getting off track again. One of the assignments in that class was to pick any game going on that night, keep score during the game, and then write a game story about it. I don't remember if we actually had to turn in our scorecards or not. I would imagine Dr. Butler probably required it. I love her to death, but she was tough. As tough as you would imagine the first tenured female professor at an all-male college would be. I somehow settled on the Braves playing the Expos in Montreal. I'm guessing I picked that game just from ease of having the Braves on TBS at the time. The Cubs probably had a day game I couldn't make work. I also don't know why that sticks in my memory so clearly. Paul Byrd pitched a great game that night and was the star of my story. The TBS broadcast picked up some Braves players having some fun with the fact that nobody ever went to Expos games, at least not at the end. I don't remember who said it, but somebody in the Braves dugout said "Wait, did you hear that? Somebody just dropped their popcorn up in the thirteenth row!"
Some sleuthing on Baseball Reference tells me it must have been September 3rd, 2004. Reported attendance was under 9,000. For reference, Olympic Stadium has over 55,000 permanent seats.
What I found doing this was it really did improve my attention to the game. The trends of the game really were much clearer, and it made the commercial breaks go by much more quickly. So, it ended up being something I did a bit off and on at first before becoming a regular thing I did during games for a long stretch.
Having Beth probably killed that off. It became difficult to watch too many games at that point, and even the ones I was watching, my attention was many times a bit split. But now she's a bit older and much more independent than she used to be, so I think I can start getting back into the habit.
I think another reason I like keeping score with baseball is just that the cards themselves are a thing of beauty to me, more than any other similar type scorekeeping. Every sheet feels a bit like a work of art to me. I don't think I'm alone in that, either. I remember a Uni-Watch interview with Bethany Heck, who at the time was developing her Eephus League site. She back then was developing an "artsy" scorebook. That was eight years ago, and you can still get that product today: The Halfliner. It really is a thing a beauty, and I probably would have already invested in several if her scoresheet included boxes for the count. If I remember right, she thought/thinks it makes things too cluttered. So, I just stick to my printouts.
While trying to track down that article, I learned there is an even bigger community out there who appreciates the beauty of keeping score. A whole book as been written about it. There are so many appreciative articles which also want to remind you scorekeeping is a lost art.
That last link also wraps back around to Bethany Heck. I think she hit a homer with that project.
I've posted my scorecards before, so I'm sure you're all familiar with my style. I like to think it's pretty straight-forward and easy to follow. The most notable thing here is that this was the first time maybe ever I'd kept score watching a game through an antenna, rather than satellite. Using a paid service like cable, satellite, or streaming, you have the ability to pause the action and make whatever notation feels appropriate. Or, there is the chance to run to the bathroom and not miss a thing. When you're going over the air, there is no such luck. In my haste to keep up with the broadcast, you'll see my first attempt to spell Hunter Wendelstedt did not go super well, and my writing careened a bit trying to get down Vic Carapazza. I was a bit rusty trying to get down Mike Yastrzemski, too. I also put the H in the wrong place for Steve Cishek, which was also a product of haste, but one that I really should have known better regardless.
I think the only notable difference between my scoring and the official scoring is I gave Robel Garcia the benefit of the doubt on his bunt, crediting him with a sacrifice. It seemed like a just reward after putting a ball firmly into McCovey Cove. Although maybe that's exactly why the scorer in San Francisco wasn't feeling as charitable.
I didn't realize I had quite this much to say on the topic. All of this to say: if you are so inclined to keep score during a baseball game, or are willing to learn, I really can't recommend it enough. I've found it difficult to do at the stadium itself, but I feel like it works wonderfully when watching from home.
As I'm sure nearly everyone in the developed world knows, Disney just released The Lion King as the next installment in their current strategy of "Let's demonstrate why our movies work better in animation." Well, okay, that line might be a little bit harsh, but it does feel particularly true in this case. Look at this side-by-side of "Hakuna Matata."
It's not bad, necessarily. The CGI is very impressive, and I can definitely see the argument of people who say this has the potential to change filmmaking as we know it. The problem, though, is by making the animals as life-like as possible, it greatly limits their abilities in a musical format. There's a reason nobody stages Cats with actual cats, you know? I haven't seen this new Lion King yet, but I have read that this clip is pretty representative of the movie. To boil it down, this is a great technological achievement. As a storytelling or even entertainment achievement? Maybe not as much.
All of this circles back a bit. Over at The Ringer, Shea Serrano wrote a piece to remind us just how thoroughly solid and airtight the original movie is. I'll definitely admit that I just generally like reading his work to begin with, but his writing style is just perfectly married to a piece like that.*
*I'd also point you to a piece he wrote about seeing the new Grinch movie with his sons.
He does a great job of building this list, so I won't rehash his points here. But there is one particular passage he wrote that I have not been able to shake, as much as I might want to. I'll let him tell it:
The way Simba begs Cloud Mufasa not to leave him. A thing I did not see coming as I aged into adulthood was the way my perspective would change while watching movies. What I mean is: The first time I watched The Lion King, I was 13. I very easily and clearly saw myself in Simba, and understood a lot of the stuff he was experiencing, in part because he was the star of the movie and that’s the point but also because I had only ever lived my life as someone else’s son. When I rewatched it to write this article, I felt myself more drawn to Mufasa, who, at his core, was just a dad and a husband who was trying to take care of the people he loved. Watching Mufasa didn’t make me feel like I was watching my own dad die anymore, like it did when I was a kid. Watching Mufasa die made me feel like I was watching myself die; like I’d somehow let my own family down; like I’d left my wife and sons to fend for themselves; like I was no longer there to love them and care for them and protect them. It was immeasurably more heartbreaking this time around.
You remember the scene. Still, maybe you haven't seen it since 1994. Here, refresh your memory.
It really shouldn't be a surprise, I guess, that this is the part that he me hardest. These last couple years have hit pretty hard in the circle of life. As I've stated many times, I don't deal well with mortality anyway. There have been a lot of reminders lately that it's closer for me than I really feel comfortable with.
For most people, their first experience of death in the family is likely to be grandparents or even great-grandparents. The reason for this is fairly obvious, there's an age factor. When you are young, it still feels removed from you. There is a generation or two in between. It's sad, of course, but it doesn't feel so personally threatening. But then some years pass. Then, suddenly, it's your parents' generation. That feels a lot more immediate. I'm not looking forward to when I start hearing about my classmates' natural deaths.
My mom hasn't lost of her brothers yet,* but one of those brothers just lost a wife last year. My dad's side has been hit fairly hard. Out of eleven of them, there are only six of them still alive, several of them have lost spouses, and I understand we're about to lose another one very soon.
*She's the only girls out of eight kids.
This is all coming off the heels of Kristine losing her grandpa on her dad's side. I have also had several friends and old classmates lose a parent just in the last three months or so.
It also puts the time in perspective, at least for me. A quick Google search tells me my Grandpa Bushue died in 1994.* He was 65 when he died. At the time, that didn't seem that weird to me. For one, I didn't really know anything about dying. That was the first death I really had to deal with head-on. For two, he was my grandpa and he seemed old to me. Even in my memory now, he looks old to my eyes. But, upon further reflection, I can see how short a time that is. My own dad is just a few months short of 63. Maybe it's just me, but he doesn't look nearly so old as my memory of my grandpa, and he's still going along more or less as I've always known him to, other than he doesn't play as much catch has he used to.
*I had no idea that year was going to come back up until right at this very moment. I wasn't trying to be overly clever by linking this to The Lion King, I promise.
That doesn't mean I can't see that he's aged, of course. I have a very clear memory, from back when I was in high school, sitting in the living room with my dad. Just kind of all at once, I realized his mustache was almost completely white. My dad was bald way before I was born, but I also realized the hair he had left on his head didn't have much color left, either. It had probably been like that for a long time, or at least trending that way. I never saw it until that moment, though, and I'll admit it scared the fuck out of me. That might have been my first real personalization of mortality.
It's not just that generation getting older that has been a reminder of the full circle. The generation coming up behind me as been a reminder as well. My sister-in-law, Katelyn, did manage to land a good full-time job. But, now that she is making her own money, she has suddenly been thrust into the realization that she has to sink or swim. She just moved out of her college apartment and into her dad's, which prompted a lot of tears and her barely being able to sob out, "My whole social life has to change."
All Kristine and I could say was, "Well, yeah. It is."
I don't think she fully realized, at least not in that moment, that we both went through the same thing. Of course we both had so much more robust social lives during that time. All of our friends were close, we had pretty minimal responsibility or supervision. College is a fantasy world of chasing whatever flight of fancy seems interesting with hardly any repercussions, and you get to do it with some of the coolest people you ever meet. But then the party ends. Everybody moves away, and suddenly there are responsibilities. And responsibilities means paying a lot of money. So while the full-time paycheck is so much more than your college-self might have needed, those bills pile up quick.
It is so hard to get yourself established, and I think she's realizing that. Even with a better landing spot than Kristine or I ever had. I can definitely tell you that part straight out of Wabash up until I'd say finally getting on at Purdue full-time was the most miserable I've been. Some of that is documented here, but adjusting to having all these pressures and obligations while spending 40 hours a week doing something that seems meaningless at best, or just soul crushing at worst. Yeah, it's horrible.
I couldn't say all that while she was crying, though. All I could muster out was "Well. Yeah."
It gets easier, of course. Even during those miserable years, Kristine and I got married and finally started living together. That was a good thing that might have even been life-saving while I went through my eight months of unemployment. I started this blog, which kept my writing skills at least somewhat in practice during an otherwise pretty barren point in my life, creatively. But, goodness, compared to the Wabash years, or Kristine's Purdue years? We aged practically instantly as soon as we got our degrees.
So, life cycles on. The good parts, the hard parts. Those long stretches of mindless routine. It isn't easy, and yes, the past continues to hurt. Knowing there is hurt coming, well, hurts. "Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." All that. I'm still not an expert at any of this. I don't have any idea when I become an adult. I still don't feel like one, and maybe I'm not. I've heard nobody is truly grown up until they've lost their parents. If that's the case, I hope I still have a very long way to go.
Goodness, this has turned into quite the long post, hasn't it? I'll finish this up soon, but let me tell one more story. I think I've written about it before, but I'll try to tell it quick. I had a professor at Wabash, Dr. Campbell, who I had for quite a few classes, and we really clicked. I liked him a lot, and I spent a lot of time visiting back with him as a new alumnus, most talking about how he, too, remembered how hard it was to get established, but how life has a way of working out. So keep the faith, keep working, all that. I went back to his office one last time not long before he retired. We talked about meeting up some time in Carmel, keeping in touch. I also really clearly remember him talking about leaving Wabash after so many years. "It doesn't feel like 35 years, but it's not a blink of an eye, either," he said. What he didn't tell me was that he was battling cancer. He would die just two years later.
His death hit me hard. It was just around the time where I really felt like I was getting my life fully together. And I never got to tell him. He never got to see me make it. He never got to see me start finding my literary groove again and start making serious moves into teaching myself. I think he would have appreciated my roundabout path back to the classroom, which I'm still trying to chart.
I can so easily imagine, like Simba, wanting to tell a Cloud Dr. Campbell "Wait! Wait! I have so much I need to tell you! So much I still want to ask!" But then he would be gone, just as quickly as he was there.
And if I feel that way about an English professor I had for a few years, I can only imagine the sorts of things I'd feel when it came to a parent.