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The tuner on my new V-Neck t-shirt can’t pull in any stations, but that familiar sight can take me back to another time. I can still hear that DJ in Oklahoma who sounded like Wolfman Jack but he called himself The Boogie Man. His show started out with a chorus of women chanting “Boogie Man, Boogie Man, oooh! aahhh!”  When our TV stopped working, my little sister and I discovered  CBS Radio Mystery Theater and listened to stories like The White Wolf. In that story a stepmother turned into a wolf and killed all of her husband’s children except for one, and that poor kid was telling the story as the wolf was panting outside his window. Yep, there’s a lot of memories in those frequencies and megahertz.

How weird is it to keep my distance from those I love during Thanksgiving? It’s weird enough to make me wish I could dress like a pilgrim and stand on your front porch! Jenny asked me if we could go caroling (just the two of us) when it get’s closer to Christmas. We would just go around the neighborhood to feel connected to friends we haven’t seen in a long time. It’s actually not a bad idea if the weather doesn’t prevent us. In the meantime here’s a song by Susan Werner from her Songs of Social Distance album. Warning: it might make you cry. It made me cry.

The first time I heard Susan Werner on Folk Alley, an online radio station out of Kent State Ohio, I knew I wanted to hear more. Then I found out she has a YouTube channel where she’s been doing a series every Sunday night where viewers can see her live and post comments and make song requests. Maybe I’ll see you there next Sunday night at 6pm! In the meantime I hope this song of hers cheers you up.

Jenny and I filled up her Kia Soul for 95 cents last Sunday. Gas hasn’t been that cheap since Model T’s shared the streets with horse drawn carriages and Henry Ford was a household name! I took a picture of the gas pump to prove it really happened…If you’re wondering how we went back in time to pay eleven cents a gallon, it was by way of our Chopper Shopper card from Price Chopper. We saved up enough points from our grocery purchases to knock $1.54 off the $1.65 price. We actually pumped 8 gallons into that gas tank for a whopping total of 95 cents. I wanted to keep driving, but I was afraid we might go deeper into a time portal. Being so far west into the Kansas Territory we might have been caught between the U.S. Cavalry and a warring tribe of Native Americans.

Jenny and I heard this song on a Sunday drive and loved it. It’s upbeat and it has a good message. Anytime someone writes a song that brings people together so they can put aside their differences, I’m in. The first song I remember hearing on the radio like that was probably Everyday People by Sly and the Family Stone. This one is called East Side West Side by The Mammals.

It’s been 18 days since my last blog post. I think that’s a record, and I’m sorry dear readers. It’s time for me to follow Ma Bell’s advice and reach out. Reach out and touch someone. Earlier in the week I was flashing back to 1979 and my first Sunday afternoon at James’ house. We were riding his mini bike in a cow pasture and talking in goofy cartoon voices. His mom made roast beef and potatoes, and later we listened to the Doors’ long version of Light My Fire in his room. We were just 13. He’s a grandfather now. A couple of days ago my mom sent a text. She was reaching out. I reached back the next day but her ringer was turned down. I’ll try again this weekend.

There is an old stump of a concrete post about 10 feet away from our house. It barely clears the undergrowth now, but I remember when it was taller. I always wondered if it was the remnant of a hitching post. I asked a neighbor once and he said “yeah, I think so,” but he didn’t seem too sure either so I looked up “hitching posts” online. After seeing a bunch of storefronts for bars I found one that someone posted on Pinterest. It has eight sides and an embedded cable like ours does. If anyone asks, I’m going to say “sure! that’s what’s left of our old hitching post! You can’t tether your horse here anymore, but it can probably knock the blade off your lawnmower!

When I bought this t-shirt online, I didn’t realize how PERFECT it would be for Halloween. The parents of our godchildren asked us over for a social distance visit, chili in the garage, and trick-or-treating in their neighborhood. I’m glad I had something to wear. Up in Nebraska, Jenny’s brother Steve and his wife Diane had an ingenious way to distribute candy to kids…It’s amazing what you can do with PVC pipe and crime scene tape. “What’s that you say young lady? Did I hear ‘trick or treat?’ Hold your bag up to the bottom of the pipe and I’ll drop a king sized Snickers bar down the chute for you! Happy Halloween!”

There’s only place to see this custom made ghost! My friend Matt makes all kinds of creations like this inside his house. We recently saw him with his family eating burgers and fries at the Snack Shack a few weeks ago. Jenny and I were out for a walk and I said “Let’s see if Matt has any artwork in his front yard.” Voila!

The closest thing I have to a reoccurring dream is the one where I’m naked and no one notices at first. When I was a teenager the dream went like this:
I’m sitting at a desk taking a test. I’m in high school. Everybody’s looking down at their test. I’m looking down at my test. Then I realize I don’t have any pants on. I’m naked from the waist down. How did I let this happen? How am I going to get out of here and get some pants on before someone sees me? Any minute now somebody’s gonna look up…
I always woke up before anyone saw me. In my late 30′s I started working at a coffeehouse and I was feeling pretty confident with myself. When I had the naked dream again, it went like this:
I am outside my college dorm room. I am not afraid. I am buck naked and I’m running across campus. A handful of people see me and say ‘Dave! This is NOT cool!’ to which I respond ‘I know some people who would think this is REALLY cool!’ Of course I’m thinking of my coffeehouse friend who has just made a snow penis in my front yard.
I am now 54 years old. Friday night I had the most recent version of this dream:
I’m at a gift shop where no one speaks English. I am completely naked again. How does this keep happening? The guy at the register has swimming trunks for sale, but they are all too small and I have no money. I sit down and grab some newspapers to cover my mid-section. A security guard asks me why I’m naked. A handful of people talk to him on my behalf and point at a large man who is offering me his underwear. He will keep his pants and go commando, and I will wear his underwear. His pants don’t smell fresh– but they don’t stink either. I will gladly wear his underwear.