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88 MPH to an ’88 (or so) Thanksgiving
In eight days, families from across the United States will gather together at their dinner table (and kid’s table) to individually and collectively give thanks for the blessings in their lives. There will be joyfulness from reminiscing about past memories, delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen and, above all else, complete and utter bedlam.
95% chaos, 5% peace and tranquility: Hello Thanksgiving!
Before we funnel into the designated house of our soon to be regretful host next week, one particular suburban Philadelphia family welcomed us into their home for a quintessential Thanksgiving celebration last night. While mission control was the kitchen and the commander was Beverly, the action spread far and wide on the Goldbergs premises.
Spoiler Alert for the DVR crowd for the latest episode of, “The Goldbergs”
The sons engaged in their made-up sibling game of “Ball Ball.” Or is it “Adam Ball” now…? The scenes with Adam and Barry (with Erica looking on, lounging on the spectator couch half-interested, half-rolling her eyes) was the perfect imagery of the glory that arises from a random, yet totally logical family game with a one-of-a-kind trophy to be used as a chalice at dinner for all to see.
In the case of this sibling game that involves knee pads, pillows, two hockey masks, a catchers mask and blue and yellow hula hoops scrunched in bean bag chairs, the age of old question between the older and the not-so much younger brother anymore is continuously answered:
Who’s the man? But what happens if that “one in a million” chance actually occurs? Then “the man” would have to be spelled A-D-A-M.
For Barry, the consequences would be comically dire.
When not fighting, this is the predominant therapy for how siblings interact with each other. This is how they bond. Are the rules absurd and never-ending? Will this ultimately lead to a colossal rematch for the ages that is the thing of legends and great mythology?
Yes, yes and yes!
And then, all of a sudden like something shot right outta thin air, the crazy (and oddly consistent) relative shows up with a grand entrance in a car that perfectly symbolizes the pure imagination of an entire decade and era of movies: the DeLorean DMC-12.
“Gotta get back in time!”
Huey Lewis and the News knows what that’s about.
Murray has always viewed his brother Marvin as a screw up, a chronically burdensome responsibility and, yes, a moron. Yet, during this Thanksgiving visit in 1980-something, Marvin promised it was different. Now working a “normal 9-5 job,” his future was assuredly looking brighter and smoother.
Did you know a triangle is the same shape as a pyramid?
A few mysteriously burning faces, an acknowledgement of basic geometry and a parking brake-less DeLorean DMC-12 on a hill later, the Goldbergs’ plus-1 was as unsettled as his car’s frame. Not even Beverly’s entertainingly deceitful promises to her fellow dinner companions in pursuit of her perfect Thanksgiving with a certain emphasis on the chef could have brought the harmony on the day she wanted it most.
No, it was going to take something much more powerful to change the dynamics of this disastrous day. In fact, it would take a curve ball.
In an act of sincere generosity sparked by a difficult, though necessary introspective, Marvin gave his big brother a small token of his lifelong appreciation for taking care of him when he was younger. It was a baseball. It was a memory. Perhaps most importantly, it was unexpected. Following this surprising gesture, Murray decided to bring his younger brother back into the future plans of his family’s Thanksgiving feast that evening.
What does a scheming in-law/uncle + a crazy grandfather + two battling brothers + a completely full of it (had already eaten turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce next door) teenage daughter + a thankful husband and family to their relentlessly hard-working wife and mother = ?
It equates to virtually everyone’s family at Thanksgiving.
By the end of the special Thanksgiving episode, “The Goldbergs” had confirmed the acutely accurate and reliable holiday formula: 95% entertaining chaos and 5% peace, tranquility and love.
With a full season ordered for, “The Goldbergs,” it’s a safe bet that lots of “fanz digit.”
P.S. Adam’s right, Harrison Ford does rule!
Forever Yours
I’m quite flashy on the outside and at your disposal with a permanent knowledge of information you’ll need to know for the future. I am dressed top to bottom in the exact right colors. In fact, I’m a very sharp dresser. Although, to be completely honest, I did not dress myself. Still, I look good!
Summer has been very relaxing for me, though ultimately uneventful. However, when Fall rolls around, that is when my world will get really exciting. From this point on, everything will happen at a blistering pace. I’ll know where I’m sitting just minutes before kickoff. There are countless variables in the air and once the flow of the day starts, it’s anyone’s guess as to what could transpire next. I hear the band playing, see the sun shining and feel the warmth of a late September afternoon. Though I’m still felling chilly.
Life is good. In fact, OH-
It’s a long hike to the seats, but what a view! C-Deck is high up, but I can literally see everything on the field below. Without a doubt, this will be a glorious event. Today is what I’ve been waiting for all Summer. Luckily, this is just the beginning.
While I was hopeful I’d see the whole game, I suppose that was me being far too optimistic. Once the small popcorn ran out, my view was severely impaired. The time came when I had to go “below deck.” That’s my code for under the seat. I’ll likely remain here only until the game is over. Then, hopefully, my shelf life will soon begin.
Oh, I’m a souvenir cup from an Ohio State football game…and this is my story.
There is not always a guarantee that I’ll be picked up and taken home, but like my countless plastic brothers and sisters, I prayed before the game that my new friend would see me as more than just a medium Pepsi. I have so much more to offer!
The game ends and the Buckeyes dominated, which is what I gathered from all the cheering. Another great start to the season.
Will she pick me up? Please, please, please! There’s nothing I can do at this point but to sit here with my Scarlet and Grey shield, my trusty 2013 Schedule perfectly labeled and pray. This is the moment of truth. This is it. The next few seconds will change my life forever for better or worse…
She takes a quick “selfie” with the field in the background and a couple other pictures with her friends she met for the game. They were all in a celebratory mood. One step, two steps, three steps. She started her descent down C-Deck. A drip of leftover condensation rolled down my face. A few steps down the stairs, she turned her head and peered over her right shoulder. Thinking to herself, she debates whether or not she needs another cup. After all, last weekend she went to Target and bought lots of colored plastic cups for the school year. Technically, she was all set. After she took an exhaling breath, she gingerly made her way back towards her seat, reached down in the aisle and…
Yes! Yes! Yes! I successfully pulled off one of the most unthinkable things at the end of an OSU football game: a girl picked me up!
The rest of the day was a blur, a magical, life-altering blur.
Throughout the next several years, she and I were together during thick and thin, like that 10-page essay that was written in one evening and one really long night/early morning and when she spent a couple weeks on her couch after she sprained her ankle while she watched movies and television shows of past and present. Through everything, we were together. Despite sitting on a shelf most of the time, I somehow managed to stay on the shelf year after year. Even after slightly fading from those water and soap-soaked adventures in the dish washer, I survived. Every time.
The most special moments for me happened after she got married and had a child. Incredibly, during the need vs. want throwing away fest with her husband early on in her marriage, I stayed. Other precious items were thrown out, but I kept my spot on her shelf.
Back to her son. When she mixed some orange Tang for him in her trusty souvenir cup (me) one Tuesday after picking him up from school, she paused with a nostalgic smile. Turning the cup, it brought back memories of that day when she told all her friends she had gotten engaged the night before on a lake underneath the starry night in her hometown.
She nearly cried.
She then handed the cup to her son, now 5. As he drank it, she continued to reminisce about that weekend and how special it was for her. That game was one of those moments in life she’ll never forget. She’ll remember and cherish everything that was part of it…everything.
Then, as her son was was raising me higher and higher, some song lyrics popped into her head.
Summer’s heat or winter’s cold
The seasons pass the years will roll
Time and change will surely (truly) show
How firm thy friendship…OHIO!
She hugged her son and said “I love you.”
Talk about a Buckeye win for the ages.
Red Light, Green Light, Yellow Light Go.
Today’s forecast is calling for more rain here in the Midwest. Splashing around in April Showers have transformed into enjoying random downpours courageously described as some-more showers (Summer = some more…I tried).
The point is that rain and thunderstorms have not been uncommon this summer. Actually, it’s been quite fitting for any Midwestern city. Six days of the week are normal, but on that seventh day, whichever one it may be, Mother Nature humorously throws us a curve ball from a past or future season.
We never pack our seasonal clothes away here. We’re always prepared with a perfectly nonsensical combination of winter coat and a pair of shorts.
It actually looks pretty cool, but whatever…
While I was thinking about the rain that’s collecting in the heavens, preparing to descend on this clear summer day, my eyes were drawn to my yellow post-it notes on my desk at work. Undeniably eye-catching. There is no chance I will ever not see that bright yellow pad during the day. No chance. It’s like a sign of some sort…a very bright, obvious, conspicuous sign.
Yellow is a color that is unmistakably bold. It is by no means a color of subtlety. It represents warmth, happiness and purpose. Even fate.
It’s really surprising that more people have not embraced this color, especially when it rains.
We’ve all seen the show and know the story by now…
The Art of Serendipity
I was in a bank recently and as I approached the counter, the tellers were all fixated on a new painting from a local artist hanging on one of the walls. Some of the tellers were standing close to it, others from a distance behind the counter. Each of them was transfixed on deciphering all the shapes. One of the tellers nearby was quite stunning, so I made every effort to sound artistically insightful around her.
It was a large piece, several feet by several feet. The shapes and figures were mostly recognizable, but not completely. For instance, some people saw a jazz band, like myself. A golden saxophone, cello and the suits stood out most prominently. Then, one of the tellers pointed to a potential drum set and, after looking more intently, I concurred. However, I “saw” too large of a drum set because then she pointed out three heads of people sitting in the front row. I completely missed them as did she at first glance. We thought the “head” in the bottom left hand corner was the kick drum…
We had a good laugh about that one.
Turns out, it was a painting of a jazz band. One of the tellers was told so by the artist himself. Still, as the tellers informed me (and as I experienced personally), everybody had their own interpretation of the painting and/or some of the distorted shapes. People were still seeing different things here and there. Not everybody saw the jazz band, but then others did see the three heads of people in the front row.
Either way, the painting is very cool, it’s hanging inside a nice bank and the artist successfully sparked a conversation about his work.
Win-win-win.
Interestingly, the journey to finding the “girl of our dreams” is much like looking at a beautiful painting. Most everybody sees the obvious beauty, but it takes that one special, right person to discover how and why it’s (she’s) a masterpiece.
The first step, in some situations, is casually starting a conversation with a stunning bank teller despite the crowded presence of her fellow female tellers, perhaps about a piece of art hanging inside a bank. Then, it’s about asking her out to dinner as smoothly as the strokes of paint in a prominent wall decoration.
Afterwards, maybe she’d find it fun to catch a set at a jazz club…
If so, talk about life imitating art.
Jimmy's Daily Planet 