Rambling of The Pink Bra’ed Boy
Wow, so I guess this would be considered my first time as “guest writer.” Really a bit more pressure than first anticipated. Ok, here it goes…by the way, Clark, I want to wish you luck in rehab..eh hem, I mean at the “Resort.” That last bender with Charlie Sheen and the chandelier was one we will talk about for some time. Until you are “released on your own recognizance” (I believe that is another way of saying “complete the program”) we will be sure to keep your blog full of stuff that is sure to ensure others that their life is not as bad as they thought.
This writing style is a treat for me though I’m not really sure that “style” is accurate as much as “Literary train wreck filled with quotes and pregnant pauses…” I prefer to write as I think…so please read slow, check Facebook, pee and eat some eggs or something as you read so that you may keep the proper tone.
I am an advocate for the fight against breast cancer, in fact I am the most recognizable man in the breast cancer world. Perhaps it is because I am bald. Maybe because I wear a pink cowboy hat…but most likely it is because about 5 or so years ago some women thought it would be funny for me to wear a pink bra during a Susan G. Komen 3 Day 60 Mile Walk. Then they did it again…and again. Before I knew it, custom made bras were being sent to me from all over the country. One thing led to another and before I knew it I was watching myself on Oprah with in a pink bra and chaps along with Tim Gunn. Maybe I should clarify, I was on “Oprah” the show…while I hugged and kissed Oprah…I was not actually ON her…and I had the chaps on, not Tim.
Much if not all of what I write is either inspirational or in some way advocating the fight against breast cancer. While never clinical, it is not necessarily funny or witty. I certainly am not bold enough to claim that anything I write here in this piece is either funny, witty or entertaining and while I occasionally I use sarcasm….I would NEVER imply that the writing is too deep for you…I would hate to find out that it is actually too shallow for you and while I sit here doing my best Andy Rooney as I write…only to find that I’m just some poser with a pen and a pc.
So I still haven’t actually written anything and I have taken 4 paragraphs to not do so. During the day thoughts run through my head of what I will write here. Exciting things, things you would totally enjoy reading…most likely Pulitzer Prize winning material only to find that after a long day of fighting breast cancer, catching snakes and chasing opossums…I am seized by writer’s block. I believe the best way to do this is just a bit of stream of conscious…see, I have many, many short, short stories. Really too short to do anything with; I have been saving them, not quite knowing what to do with them…until now. Thank you Clark for the opportunity to share my shortest of short, often pointless stories. Normally, I write while listening to music that makes me feel emotional…cathartic…but currently, it’s Public Enemy on Pandora.
As a kid, Maurice Sendek, author of “Where the Wild Things Are” lived up the road. When I was 8 years old I had to call him because I thought one of his dogs found his way to my house….it turned out to not be his dog.
Around the same age, my family always gave my t-ball teammate Suzy a ride to t-ball because her parents were always busy as writers for the soap opera, The Young and the Restless. Shortly after I moved away, the show introduced a character about my same age named “Dusty.” For years we rumored that the character may be been named after me. Recently, through the advent of Facebook, I was re-introduced to Suzy. I asked her about this super awesome story. After talking with her parents, she reported back that it was very unlikely. Sometimes it’s best to not know the truth.
Professionally, I am a humane wildlife trapper. As a greenhorn learning the trade in the Chicago area I trapped raccoons from Walter Payton’s attic. I will never forget being 23 years old and hearing the secretary say “Dusty, Walter is on the phone for you.”
I have worked for some pretty cool cats. Pitcher Scott Sanderson, some other Chicago Bears(forgot their names), William Wrigley Jr. The Wrigley house was amazing. Cement chimneys throughout the attic, filled with raccoons…iron “I beams” holding up the roof. Then there was the time I worked for Trent Dilfer. Trent was the quarterback for the Buccaneers at the time. Trent had a great family, especially a young son named Trevin. My youngest daughter Tegan was the same age. Trent would call Trevin “T-Bone.” So one day I went home and started calling Tegan “T-bone.” I have two daughters, no sons. Having boys has never been important to me but I have joked to my girls about it. Calling Tegan “T-Bone” was one of those ways…the name has since morphed into “Boney”…or “Boney Butt.” In 2003 Trevin died of a hear t condition. Nearly every time I call Tegan “Boney”, I think about little Trevin running around and what a loss it was for such a good family.
Then there was the time I crawled into someone’s attic to look at a pest situation. I saw luggage all over that said “Blue Jays” and “Red Sox.” Living in the Tampa area we have one or two baseball players that take up residence here. After seeing the bags, I asked the older gentleman if he was a ball player…”Yes, I’m the manager for the Red Sox.” “Oh, THAT Jimmy Williams” I thought about saying…but I didn’t. I felt like a dork; I apparently don’t follow baseball that closely. Regardless, Jimmy was great.
When I was 17 I travelled to South America to play soccer for 3 weeks with a Puma national team. We had guys from all over the country. The highlight of the trip was spending the afternoon at Pele’s house in Santo’s Brazil. This was actually my second time meeting the King of Soccer. On a side note, Joe Max-Moore was my teammate. Joe went on to be a star on the World Cup Team and a leading scorer for Everton in England. This was my first time seeing the poverty of the world…it was also my first time seeing what a head of blonde curly hair on a 17 year old American boy will do a dark haired 18 year old Brazilian girl…wow…
There are some lessons you learn the hard way…one of my most memorable lessons was…when chasing a skunk, be sure to close your eyes and your mouth. Check that…probably best to just not chase skunks. I’ve learned that you can love hard and you can love easy but it is difficult to do both…I’ve learned that one may have a passion, albeit it may be something you never would have guessed it would have ever been. I’ve learned that sometimes you can write in such a way that you can say so much, in such a way…that by using the words “in which”and “in such”, twisting and turning your sentences in such a way that you can…in one fell swoop of a run-on sentence…in which you actually say nothing in such a way that it almost sounds intelligent. I’ve learned that the irony of purposefully misspelling a word in order to be humorous is risky if the reader is neither witty nor literate. I’ve also learned that “irony” is one of those words that people use to sound intelligent…though they often don’t know what irony really is…which is ironic…I think.
Masterpiece Theatre is coming on now so I’ll wrap this up….crap, it’s a re-run…Family Guy it is then. Clark, you are a loved, gentle man…and seeing that you have invited not only me…but Lynne Austin to commandeer your blog…you are clearly also a man of questionable decisions; regardless…thank you.
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