Day: June 24, 2004

Where Were You When?

I finally heard the trade rumor I’ve been waiting for: Paul Pierce to the Pacers. Unfortunately, it came in a column that was being funny rather than serious. But, as my wife said, a boy can dream.

I found this list of questions yesterday on a blog I frequent. Some outstanding cultural milestones in our lives worth remembering and sharing. Your memories are welcome in the comments.

Where were you when you heard that Ronald Reagan died?
Sitting on the couch reading something when my wife saw the crawler on CNN and told me about it.
Where were you on September 11, 2001?
I had just arrived at work and was getting some coffee when one of my least favorite coworkers came in and told me a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I tried to get away from her as quickly as possible thinking, “I don’t know what’s really happened, but this can’t be the person I will always remember told me about this.” I remember how slow all the major news websites were working that morning then going down to one of our conference rooms to watch coverage after the towers had collapsed.
Where were you when you heard that Princess Diana died?
We had just returned to Bella after a night out in Westport or on the Plaza. Stayed up at least an hour watching CNN.
Do you remember where you were when you heard that Kurt Cobain had died?
As discussed here in the past, sitting on my bed reading a book about college basketball recruiting. I had the radio turned on at low volume and noticed the DJ seemed to be talking a lot. Turned it up and found out why.
Take one for the Gipper: what’s your favorite flavor of jelly bean?
Can’t say that I have a favorite. I generally eat anything in the bag except for the black licorice flavor. And I pretty much only eat jelly beans if someone else bought them and put them in front of my face.
Where were you when Magic Johnson announced he was retiring from the NBA due to HIV?
Brushing my teeth, getting ready to go to work at the cafeteria in McCollum Hall. When I got to work, I told one of my basketball buddies who didn’t believe me. He was a Celtics fan and thought I was just trying to mess with him. “You better not be joking because that’s pretty sick.” Why would I joke about that?!?!
Where were you when Reagan was shot?
Sitting in Mr. Dice’s class in 4th grade at Norfleet Elementary school. Mrs. Patterson came running in and said “The President’s been shot!” and they wheeled a TV in so we could watch the coverage.
Where were you when the Challenger exploded?
I first heard about it combing my hair in the boys restroom at Raytown High (That’s what we did after lunch, we combed our hair. Literally, no Weird Science euphemisms here.) Found out for sure when I got to science class two periods later. Our math teacher refused to speak about it.
Where were you when the OJ verdict was announced?
Sitting in my apartment in Lawrence. I had a roommate that year that was from Peru who started tossing racial bombs when the verdict was announced. We were scrambling to shut the windows before he got us all shot.


Movies and Rednecks

I failed to mention that we watched two outstanding movies over the weekend: In America and Big Fish. I freely admit I cried like a baby at the end of In America. Hey, throw in a story line about a baby being born prematurely with problems and you’re going to get me every time now that I’m a prospective father. I thought it was a charming, heartwarming movie full of outstanding performances. I really liked Big Fish as well. It’s one of those movies that makes you smile throughout, not just because it’s amusing, but because it is so well crafted. The man became his stories, and thus he became immortal. It’s not an idea that’s going to change the world, but it is a wonderful way of looking at how those you’ve loved and lost have made a mark on you, and how you will hopefully make a mark on others over the course of your life.

I caught a rerun of Newlyweds the other night and had to laugh at Nick watching his Bearcats in the NCAA tournament. At one point, while they’re getting absolutely worked by Illinois, he says, “That guy is hitting every effing shot. Somebody guard him.” I believe I’ve shouted that exact same analysis at the TV many times, although I tend to put the effing in front of guard rather than shot. “Someone effing guard him!”

It appears as though I’ll get out of any possibility of doing a draft log tonight as we have dinner plans. Fine with me, the prospective trades floating around are far more interesting than any actual in-draft drama this year. The city of Indianapolis offered its collective yawn towards the process by running a front page story not on potential Pacers trade or draft targets, but on Greg Oden, the local high school junior-to-be who just dominated a national high school camp. Everything I read about the kid is great, from his game to his family to his attitude. Getting this much attention, hype, and expectations at the age of 16 can doom a kid for failure. I hope he has the makeup and support structure to get through the next two years unscathed. Not even LeBron had this much hype at the same stage. Can you imagine people guaranteeing you’ll be the number one pick in the draft before your sophomore season has even ended?

There was some good crime in Indy this week. A couple of punk kids were driving around holding people up for their wallets. One victim phoned 911 and directed police to the house the kids had holed up in. The kids refused to come out when the police arrived, so teargas was tossed in and eventually they gave themselves up. What made it all so good was a shot of the pickup the kids were driving around. In the back window was a large sticker, nearly covering the entire pane, which said “Redneck” and was colored to mirror the Confederate flag. Outstanding, and not very surprising. Next time some older white person says they don’t understand why young black kids like to parade around like gangstas, remind them of how many white kids run around town proudly calling themselves rednecks. I think we’re even and can just move on.

Life’s pleasures: sitting on the deck on a cool June evening, sipping a beer, listening to the soft buzz of summer insects that are just starting to make their presence felt.

Why is it pretty much every PJ Harvey song I’ve ever heard, I’ve liked a lot, but I’ve never had any desire to buy one of her albums?

Be watching this space later today for a truly interactive experience. I found an interesting list of questions that’s worth sharing and getting comments on.


© 2023 D's Notebook

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑