RUNNER

If not my favorite bird, I mean how could any beat The Cardinal, the roadrunner must be my second. Owls are third. Hawks fourth. Eagles and herons are tied for 5th.

He doesn't take flight much, preferring to, well run. His gift of flight is used to get into other birds' nest, but I think that's about it. Two things missing from our neighborhood are roadrunners and javalinas. I'm sure there are a lot more than those two, but those are two I would like to see. I'd also like to see the bobcat that's around, but I haven't had the pleasure yet.

I don't know why we don't have any roadrunners. If they sold them at PetMart, I might buy some just to let loose. But the last time I went to one to look at dogs, I couldn't come close to affording any, so it might be the same with the birds. They are just so cool to watch. They don't tarry much, foragers they are. Best of all, they love to torment and kill rattlesnakes. Which I can't imagine, but that shows you how quick they must be.

As a grade schooler I was a Redbird. I remember our cheerleaders singing (did you know cheerleaders used to do that before they became more athletic than the teams they cheer for) "Redbirds are coming/ their sails are in sight." I never knew what that meant, but had I paid a little more attention to Coach Ellis and Coach Baker instead of the cheerleaders, I might have got more PT.

We never played the Opdyke Roadrunners. But I wish we would have. Then I'd know what kind of cheer they did for that cool bird.

WHAT MAKES A PATH ON THE EARTH

Thoreau says it's not a single footstep, and that's certainly true. A single footstep wouldn't get the stepper very far at all. "That's no step for a stepper," good friend Mike McCluer says, usually about a tough golf shot. Even on our newly seeded Winter rye, a single step would make at the most an indentation.

Thoreau continues with "we walk again and again". Sounds like what the missus and I are about ready to do. Three miles with only a few variations. When the golf course is closed for seeding, we may walk a few holes that skirt our neighborhood. When we might not have the time or desire to walk 3, we may take the route that allows us to return to our house after two or 2 1/2 miles. And we make a deeper physical path according to HD Thoreau. But no matter how many times we walk it even over a period of years, we won't be the ones who necessitate a street re-paving.

He was writing about ideas. A sort of "we are what we think" mentality. That's the path, the legacy that we leave. So what occupies our mind? How much do we think hedonistic thoughts? How much do we think controlling thoughts? How about sacrificial thoughts? Fantasies? Regrets? Remorse? If I had only known then thoughts?

I know he went into town every week or so to hear the gossip. I don't know if he was a newspaper reader, but I would think so. At least when he went in to Concord. So maybe we are what section of the newspaper we read first.

It might surprise you that I don't read the sports section first. Nor the front page section. I start with the comics and a puzzle. Sports are next, followed by the Everyday section to check the weather.

Now, what intellectual path I'm taking should be self-evident. My path, I fear, would not be well trod.

fabulous realities

When I taught a class, an English elective for juniors and seniors in 1973, it was called Basic Composition. Not a very exciting title for those times which also saw me teaching Literature of the Supernatural.

That used to draw some less than studious until I introduced them to Nathaniel Hawthorne's "Young Goodman Brown," and a few Poe stories.

But in the text we used, the author whose name escapes me, wanted to point out to students that there were topics everywhere, if they sharpened their observation skills. He came up with an exercise called Fabulous Realities.

One finding I recall was the gum tree. Not the gum tree that produces those nasty balls that remind me of huge kidney stones. A tree on the MTVHS campus that was the recipient of used chewing gum. The last time I looked, there were 75 pieces stuck there. I even had one student who would use it as a rental and stop by and pick it up later in the day to chew in a class where the teacher would allow it.

My fabulous reality occurred earlier this week when I noticed a young woman with a pierced glittering stud in her left nostril. Not far from her nasal opening which revealed a booger.

"No wonder she has a booger," I thought. "With that piercing, she can't blow her nose."

Somewhere there's a story there. Or at least a topic for a scene for Basic Comp. Maybe that class, which fell by the wayside for a class entitled English III, could be on the comeback trail.

Another topic could be "pants on the ground" that those wanting to be a bit of a gangsta started adopting. It seems it came from the real gangsters in prison. And why wouldn't just about everyone look up to them?

It seems that a sign that the prisoner was gay and available was to let his pants, sans belt--not sansabelt--which are not issued, droop down. Incorporated by quite a few these days, I imagine the homosexual link was omitted by the neo-wearers. What folks won't do for style. And yet, one more fabulous reality.

ARE THE TIMES A-CHANGING?

Since the election results? Can it happen that quickly?

Suddenly retail is improving. Last week when we were attending a wedding near St. Louis, we could hardly get through the masses of people at the mall. A mall that hasn't been that busy for ages. Sidebar. We went to Dillards to find some Rams apparel. I was looking for two Sam Bradford jerseys. I asked one of the clerks if he had any Rams jerseys. "A few," was his response. When I got there, sure enough he had two Bradford jerseys, size XL for me and XXL for our son. How cool is that?

Back home, the AZ paper reports real estate sales once per week. For the most expensive transactions. Keep in mind that there are houses on the market for as much as $16 million. But for some time, most reporting topped out at $1.6 mil or so. Not so today. Several sold for nearly twice that price. Nice, as our daughter would say.

Since we don't produce much in our outsourced economy anymore, and since our cars aren't up to the ones made in other countries, our economy is driven by construction, so I'm really glad to see the housing market making gains. I've also noticed many more workers in our neighborhood re-modeling or fixing up. My brother-in-law added that over the weekend in Mesa, it was hard to find a parking spot at Home Depot.

So, just maybe things are looking up. I know one moving company or two made a profit helping some scoundrels pack up and get out of DC.

YE OLD CRAPATERIA

If this picture isn't the old cafeteria at Field (nee) Grade School in MTV, then it's a replica or facsimile thereof. The only thing missing is the cooks who didn't seem to care much about the food, the kids, or the kitchen.

Well, that's really not quite right. They cared more about sterility and cleanliness of the place than they cared about the product.

I honestly can't recall one good meal I ever ate there, but a few good bowls of chili at some kind of effort to support the neighborhood schools in the day of neighborhood schools. In other words, we were given tickets to hawk for our parents and neighbors to come to the school for a chili supper. Sometimes there were plays or skits or performances, but I don't remember taking part in them, so the baseball team,(or did we play softball--I was on the team, but I don't remember), basketball team, or chorus that I participated in wasn't asked to show our skills.

So what was wrong with cafeteria food? Succotash for one thing. I loved corn and green beans as a kid. Just not together. I liked mashed potatoes. Without lumps. But sometimes the mashed potatoes were more like the look and texture of applesauce. And the meat. Simply awful.

I did like the trays that separated the different items. Sometimes, I'd still like those trays so my chicken and rice wouldn't try to snuggle up to my runny beets. So my bread wouldn't be stained by Aunt Nellies' pickled beet purple color.

Junior high cafeteria food was better. Edible spaghetti and fried chicken. Not in the same meal, but separately. Even their salad wasn't too bad.

High school macaroni and cheese was the best. But that was about it.

Yet none of the crapaterias looked like the one in the photo. Except the one at Field School circa 1959.

AND LIGHTFOOT?

What a great car. But it was never produced by Ford. In 1941 the Thunderbolt prototype was rejected by someone who didn't know. Didn't know cool.

It makes me wonder what other great designs were rejected. What great minds were stifled by Those in Charge.

And not just in the automotive industry. In fact in every other industry. Just think of what died on the drawing room floor. What experiments were rejected as impractical.

It reminds me of the scariest thing about education. If we do nothing for our young gifted students, then by grade four, we have successfully dumbed them down to where they actually lose their gift of giftedness. That's unforgivable to me.

I think Special Education is tremendous. But I think that every dollar that is spent on Special Ed. should be matched by giving the same amount to Gifted Ed. Why in the world would we waste our best minds? Aren't we average enough?

I'm not talking about pull out programs one hour per week. One day per week would be a start. As usual, I don't have many answers, just a few opinions and ideas. Maybe I was gifted and successfully dumbed down. Maybe that's why I have no more answers. Who knows? But I sincerely believe, we have wasted a huge chunk of talented, gifted, accelerated students. I also think the carnage continues.