Things Move Along...

Not much to report here. But maybe if I get a stream of consciousness going, something of value to y'all might pop out...

Sean Patrick is asleep at the moment and I'm on baby duty while Nicole gets sleep.

I was working last week on a comedy festival... the ClydeTV Comedy Festival to be exact. It was a pretty simple gig really. Every night we had one or two comedians on stage and we just had to create a look on the set behind them while they filmed. Fairly easy day, just fudging light levels during the show.

The first night was a comedian with an Iranian background, which meant most of his comedy was based around the humorous things some Persian cultures do. Some of it funny, most of it I didn't get.

The second night was two African-American comedians. They were funny, when I could understand them. They were talking really fast, and I had to shut the windows on the lighting booth because there was a theater space behind me that had a play going on at the same time.

Kevin Nealon performed the next night. He was funny. Had his act down pat. I've never seen him live before, but I can only assume the stuff he was doing he did before, because certain skits got applause before he even got into it.

The final night was most interesting. It was "Live Nude Comedy" featuring Shannon Elizabeth (of American Pie fame) as the hostess. It was 6 show shot in a row that featured two comedians and two burlesque dancers. An interesting concept, loosely based on the old vaudevillian days. I'm assuming of course that most of the comedians back then also had potty mouths and talked about sex. Makes sense since you are followed by a woman stripping down to her pasties. It was a super long day followed by a super long night. We started at 9AM and left at 1AM. They had assumed they could shoot six 1/2 hour shows in three hours, which makes sense. But they didn't budget time for all of Shannon Elizabeth's wardrobe changes. Six shows, six changes. Good times.

Live Nude Comedy will be shown on Showtime at some point. I'm going to assume it will be later in the evening since there are breasts involved.

Oh, and I think I forgot to mention... That Jingles show that I worked on back in August/September with Gene Simmons of Kiss fame... Will never see the light of day. Yep, no one bought it, so no one will see it. Which is all fine because most of us on that show sort of knew it was poo.

That's about all that goes on right now. Most time is spent with Sean Patrick. Time seems to melt away with him around. There is lots to do around the house and some gets done and some does not. We've had a fair number of visitors swing by the house. It was nice to see my friend Jenni whom I had seen since the baby shower. We also went and visited our friend Kille who lives down the street. She has two kids and lots of great advice. She also may have hooked us up with a great baby sitter. We meet with her on Thursday night, stay tuned.

I leave next Friday for 4 days in Windsor Canada with Blue Man Group. They are doing and show at the Windsor Casino for two nights. Windsor is across the river from Detroit, in case you are wondering. I'll probably be able to see American soil from my hotel room. Should be an easy straight forward show.

And speaking of Blue Man Group... They've already got dates for next year. They spend almost a month in Tel Aviv, and then a month and a half in Lisbon. I'll more than likely be joining back up with them for a month in May while they tour the UK. Benny, the guy who's out there now doing my job is also having his first kid, due in May, so we get to trade off. I wonder if he'll feel like me after the kid is born and not want to tour anymore. Guess I'll be training another LD to take over the tour. Any volunteers?

Well, I guess my stream has come to the end. Never made it to a big ocean of thought. Guess this stream was heading inland and got dried up in the desert. Perhaps next time there will be things to say. But for now, I'm gonna go warm up a bottle and feed my son.

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Today, I Hate My Front Door.

I just noticed, the last post was post number 200 for this blog.

Insert balloon drop here.

That's about it for that.

We've been having trouble with our satellite TV lately. The HD channels have all gone away and left us with a white screen and a magical message, "Searching for satellite signal in 2". It's really quite irritating since that means most of the channels don't work. And the ones that do work are not in HD so the quality of the picture is a little poor in comparison.

On a Macintosh computer, when you are having trouble connecting to an Internet service, there is a step by step process that the computer takes you through to get it to work. It asks you simple questions, and gives you choices, "What method are you trying to connect with? A) Ethernet, B) wireless, C) USB?" Then you choose and the next screen pops up, "There is trouble with the connection, are you using a router? A) Yes, B) No." "Yes, you are using a router. Please restart router. Does that fix the problem? A) Yes, B) No." "Are you connecting through a DSL box? A) Yes, B) No." And so on, and so on. Eventually you come to the end and it either works or you get the message, "Sorry, we've exhausted all possibilities, you and I are not smart enough to make this work, time to call somebody smarter... tech support".

This is basically an example of what I had to go through to make my satellite work again. I called the "tech support" line and the nice lady on the other side was my Macintosh for the satellite. "When you tune to channel 401, what do you see?"

"Searching for satellite in 2."

"Okay, check the wires in the back make sure they are tight. Are they tight?"

"Yes."

"Okay, you answered yes, now unscrew the wire and make sure the copper part in the middle is straight. Is the copper part in the middle straight?"

"Yes."

"Okay, now go outside and see if the satellite dish is still connected to the house. Is the dish still connected to the house?"

"Yes."

I can see her sitting in front of her computer checking the "Yes" box, and the next window pops up with the next silly question. Eventually, we came to the end and the problem wasn't fixed, the window said, "Send technician."

So at present, there is a technician on my roof with a screw gun, and I can hear him moving the dish around. Hopefully by the time I finish this post, he'll be done and I can get back to watching my all important hockey stats on the NHL channel.

When he first showed up, he came into the house and basically did all the same steps I did on the phone with the tech support lady. I get it, gotta make sure I didn't do something wrong, so he's been walking in and out of the house, each time slamming my front door.

The slamming is not why I hate the my front door today, and I'm not mad at Raul (the technician). The reason I hate my front door is because it's a metal screen door. And when it slams, it makes an unholy metallic bang. And it didn't really occur to me until just now, that this metal door, and all the metal bars on my windows are meant to keep people out.

Is my neighborhood that bad, that I have to have metal doors and bars? No, I don't think my neighborhood is that bad. I know the owner of the house before we moved in was broken into once and in response, had all the windows barred and metal doors installed, just so she could feel safe.

But they don't make me feel safe, it actually makes me feel claustrophobic. Are these bars making me feel like I'm trapped inside? Feels like prison, but all I have to do is open the door and walk outside. So why I don't I do that more often?

I should do that more often.

As soon as Raul is gone, I'm going for a walk. Ah never mind, he got the satellite working again and there are hockey stats to check.

I'll get out tomorrow.

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It's Been A Good Year Thus Far.

By a show of hands, who here watches, "Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations" on the Travel Channel? It's a good show. You get a taste of different cultures, literally. We also occasionally watch "Bizarre Foods With Andrew Zimmern". Not as good as Anthony Bourdain because Andrew Zimmern has always been more about eating the strange foods in different cultures, where Anthony Bourdain has been about eating the foods OF the different cultures.

I bring both of them up because in the last year, both have done specials about my favorite place in the world, my home state of Hawai'i. Anthony Bourdain did his earlier this year, while last week, I caught Andrew Zimmern. Watching both, I got a little teary eyed. Why? Because I miss the food! That, and they had lots of great scenery shots. There's no where prettier that the island state of Hawai'i.

On that note, I do think both shows missed the mark a little.

They were both dead on with the truly traditional Hawai'ian foods, and had a good laugh about Hawai'i's obession with Spam. But I think both also had a certain amount of prodcution value added which caused them to do non-traditional things in my book. The first example that comes to mind is the "backyard barbecue" That Anthony Bourdain visited. While the food was pretty tradtional, who the heck has hula dancers and ukelele players at the ready? Never seen that.

While all this makes me homesick, what makes me even more so, is the good year it's been for Hawai'i thus far.

It really started last college football season when the University of Hawai'i, for the first time ever, ranked 10th in the nation. Of course when they met up for the Sugar Bowl with #5 Georgia, it was embarrassing. Then a team from Hawai'i won for the second time the Little League World Series. Bryan Clay, from my alma mater, J.B. Castle High School, won the decathlon at the Beijing Olympics.

Okay, all of the above accomplishments are sports related. For a state that consumes 1/3 of all the Spam consumed in the U.S., that's gotta say something? Maybe it says Spam should be on Oprah's list of "Super foods".

But the greatest thing for Hawai'i happened on November 4th. A local boy was elected president of the United States. Sure he made his political mark in Chicago, but he spent the formative years going to school across Wilder Avenue from me. As far as I'm concerned, he's a local boy. As long as he doesn't hold a grudge against the state (And why should he? He vacationed there this year), Hawai'i will embrace him with open arms... And brag a little to I'm sure.

Now let's all stand and sing, "Hawai'i Pono'i" (It's the state song of Hawai'i, you haoles!)

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I'm Taller Than Brad Pitt.

I have to brag about that one. I'm at least an inch, maybe an inch and a half taller. On Monday and Tuesday, I worked on a second round table discussion for the movie, "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button". It was a couple of easy days, sort of like the first time we shot about a month ago. There's an oval table and at one end sits a moderator with a funky mustache who drives the conversation. We pointed some lights at the people, a little key and fill, then I sat back and surfed the internet.

On Tuesday, we had two different discussions, the second one was a slew of the actors who starred in the movie. And since the main role of Benjamin Button was played by Brad Pitt, I guess he had to show up.

Before the shoot, I was standing behind him in line to get a sandwich from the catering table. Now before you ask, no, I did not talk to him, he was engaged in a conversation with someone else, and was constantly interrupted by different people saying hi. But I was close enough to determine that my eye level is about his forehead.

I'm sure the boys don't care, so here's one for you... Cate Blanchette, VERY attractive in person, as is Julia Ormond, a personal favorite of mine since the remake of Sabrina.

And yes, Tuesday was the big election, and I did get a chance to vote, since we only worked half a day. We had to wrap the shoot by one in the afternoon so Brad Pitt could catch a plane. Little did we know he was flying to Chicago for Obama's acceptance speech.

Speaking of the election, I really like the fact that although you never hear from them, there are more than just the democratic and republican candidates for president. I was half tempted to vote for the green party (Cynthia McKinney for President). At least then I'd see my one vote on a television, newspaper, or website somewhere. I just found a website that lists ALL the results for the presidential election in California. I wasn't going to be alone if I voted for the green party, I would have had 28,551 friends!

And lastly, an apology. Sorry I haven't been writing more. I know Jade is off getting married so I thought I could slack a little, but that isn't fair to the rest of you. That and Sean Patrick is really good at making the day disappear. The only reason I can write now is that he's feeding (again). But that's only a 20 minute break so I must go...

Hopefully I'll be back soon...

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The Saga Continues...

Here's another post from my Dad. This stuff is so interesting, I thought I should share it. If I need to interject anything (although I don't think I will) it will again be in [italics]. And now...

HOW THINGS WERE
OR
HOW I FAILED TO WIN THE WAR

PART II

Being further misadventures of a youthful Patrick Boland

You asked about the draft board and the East-West Center (EWC). It’s a bit convoluted. You need some background. Plus, old people tend to ramble.

Before there was an all-volunteer army, there was something called the Selective Service System (SSS). Upon reaching the age of 18, all males had to sign up. The army would fill its need for new soldiers by “drafting” (involuntarily) the number of conscripts it needed. The draft was usually for a 2-year term. If you volunteered to sign up with one of the armed forces (so you could choose your branch, and maybe a specialty) it was a 4-year term. If you had solid political connections, you could get in to the Texas Air National Guard which meant you would never be sent overseas to combat and later you could be President of the United States.

There was a classification system to determine which lucky persons would go.

I-A. This classification meant “keep a toothbrush packed.” Depending on the army’s need, the whims of the president and your standing with the great god Quetzalcoatl, you were ripe for the picking.

Other classifications were usually considered “deferments,” since the need was never so great that they had to go beyond I-A to fill the draft quota.

For example, there was IV-F. This meant that you were unfit for service. Perhaps you had very bad eyesight, or had flat feet, or were gay, or had some other disabling condition.

I imperfectly recall a rhyme, later set to music, which went something like this (potential draftee speaking to sergeant):

Sarge I’m just eighteen,
I got a ruptured spleen,
And I always carry a purse.

I got eyes like a bat,
My feet are flat,
And my asthma’s gettin’ worse.

Consider my career,
My sweetheart dear,
My poor old invalid aunt.

Besides, I ain’t no fool,
I’m a goin’ to school,
And I’m a workin’ in a defense plant.

So have a ball,
Sarge, watch ‘em fall
While you kill me a thousand or so.

And if you ever get a war
Without any gore,
Well, I’ll be the first to go.

But I digress.

II-A was an occupational deferment. This meant you were employed in some activity critical to the welfare of the nation, such as being a teacher and molding the minds of our youth, or engineering fighter planes, or packing artillery shells at the New Brighton ammunition plant. Stuff like that.

A common deferment classification was II-S, student.

The big catch on the II-S deferment was that you could only keep it as long as you were continuously enrolled in school and making satisfactory progress. Once you left school you could never, ever, ever again get a II-S deferment, even if you re-enrolled in a school. So there.

I had a II-S classification from ’58 to ’63. The Peace Corps was considered an important occupation for the nation, so I had a II-A deferment from ’63-’65. As a teacher from ’65-’66 I had another II-A deferment.

Now comes the problem. After about, oh say, 7 or 8 minutes of being a teacher in St. Paul, and molding the immalleable minds of American tenth graders, I realized it was not my calling. I had enjoyed teaching in the Philippines, where education was seen as a way up and students appreciated the opportunity. In the U.S., tenth graders seemed to see school as a place to practice being surly while waiting for their next juvenile court appearance.

I had seen a flyer for the Center for Cultural and Technical Interchange Between East and West (EWC) while I was being debriefed in ’65 at the Peace Corps headquarters in Manila. Sounded like a good idea. I applied for a grant in the program where you lived at the East-West Center, interchanged culturally and technically with foreign students, and attended graduate school at U.H. One-third of the grantees were Americans, and two-thirds were from the Pacific and Asia as far as Afghanistan.

I wasn’t too optimistic about being accepted. These grantees were the crème de la crème. You had to take tests (academic and psychological) and get interviewed by grave professorial types. I got 99th percentile (take that, boys!) on the GRE (Graduate Record Exam), passed the MMPI (Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory) for about the 5th time (you had to be nuts not to figure out what answers were going to classify you as being nuts), and presented myself with sufficient gravitas to the designated professorial interviewers at the University of Minnesota.

I got the grant.

Ah, but what about the draft board? The Selective Service System was managed nationwide by local draft boards. Mine was Local Board No. 96, Ramsey County, Minnesota. Your draft board decided what your classification was and whether you would be called up. They were all-powerful.

I was about to leave the safety of my II-A occupational deferment. I was no longer eligible for a student deferment since I had been out of school for three years.

An idea! That’s what we need, an idea. The EWC is funded by the United States Department of State. As a grantee, I was going to be paid by the State Department while being in a State Department program. Seemed like I should get another occupational deferment – doing all that important international work and such for the State Department and the nation.

The draft boards themselves were composed of volunteers – usually elderly, retired guys who were looking for their own way to be of service. The board would have a staff person, the “clerk,” who did the day-to-day work. I called the clerk and told her (sweet lady) that I was going to participate in this State Department program so would she please issue me a new II-A classification. She said “no.” She decided that I was really going to be a student, and that I was not eligible for another student deferment. Further, she told me that I had joined the Peace Corps so I wouldn’t have to serve my country (honest to God, she really did say that), and now she was going to get me (she really said that too). I would be I-A. I could appeal the decision to the full board if I liked, but it would be fruitless. The rules were clear.

I appealed to the full board, and was granted a hearing. I came armed with cogent arguments and several letters from scholarly types about the importance to the nation of my proposed occupation as an EWC grantee.

There were three or five cordial old geezers on the board – can’t remember now for sure. I remember that one of them was a retired dairy farmer. He listened to all the arguments and then said “you’re going to be a student, aren’t you?” I assured him that being a student was strictly a sideline, that my real occupation was being an EWC grantee – State Department, you know. He said, “We’ll give you a student deferment.”

The clerk was beside herself. She sputtered. She explained to the board that the regulations prohibited me from another student deferment. She rushed to the bookshelf and pulled down the applicable regulation. She took it to the board members, laid it out on the table, and pointed to the applicable text. I was absolutely, positively, ineligible for a student deferment. It would be a violation of the Code of Federal Regulations Part something-or-other. Says so right here.

But, as I said, the draft boards were all-powerful, and sometimes capricious.

Retired dairy-farmer repeated himself. “He’s going to be a student, ain’t he? We’ll give him a student deferment.” The rest of the board agreed. I fled before they changed their minds, leaving the red-faced clerk to deal with her bitter defeat. Another “refuses-to-serve-his-country” slacker had escaped. Didn’t even have to move to Canada like so many others.

Footnote: I always thought that serving in the Peace Corps was one way to serve the country, but I guess I didn’t really understand patriotism. Apparently, the only true way to serve your country was to go to Vietnam and shoot commies.

So I came to the EWC and UH in June of ’66. Your mother came to UH in September of the same year. We got married in October of ’67.

Now it’s January of ’68. Oops. By summer I’ll be finished at the EWC and UH. What will my draft status be then? Salvation. Your mother becomes pregnant.

SSS classification III-A: “Extreme hardship deferment, or registrant with a child or children.”

The premier/strongman of South Vietnam about this time was a man named Nguyen Kao Ky. In 1968 there was no ultrasound for pregnancies, so we didn’t really know who was in there. Whoever he or she was, your mother was always hungry. The kid was demanding nourishment. We sometimes referred to this unknown person as Nguyen Kau-Kau. The nickname combined his appetite display with his pre-birth accomplishment of keeping me from going to Vietnam to shoot commies.

Raymond got me a III-A deferment. I would be forever barred from serving my country.

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