I am stealing this and posting it here...

'cause, well, dammit, they said it first and probably better, but it is a good article!

GAME-DAR

Glowball....

Glowball. Mention glowball to any of my friends from my childhood and you will see a huge grin appear on their face. Glowball was an invented game that took place only on certain nights. My parents had to be gone obviously, but it had to be dark, and had to be at my parents house. Why? First because my parents house had a floor plan that allowed you to run from one room to another without having to open any doors or stopping to turn sharp corners. And it was filled with all kinds of things to hide behind. Secondly, our house had very few outside lights to shine into the windows, therefore making it very dark if you turned out all the lights inside the house. It was required that you play Glowball in as dark an environment as possible and well, my parents house fit the bill perfectly.

What was Glowball? Think hide and seek and tag mixed together but you tagged a person who was hiding by hitting them (as hard as you could) with a small, hard plastic ball that could only be found in the box of cereal called QUISP. (Anyone remember QUISP?!?!) It was a molded glow in the dark ball that was actually a replica of the moon, and if you held it under a light long enough it would glow for like 10 minutes. Longer than any other glow in the dark object we had ever seen. And since it was a solid ball, it would not break apart if it hit anything hard. (Bodies, including heads, are not hard, by the way)

What you did was you got a bunch of bored grade and high school boys together and picked someone to be the "robot" who held possession of the glowball. No one else could touch it, or you would be "it". The rest of the boys would turn off all the lights and go hide around the house. Any place in the house, excluding the basement and attic, was considered a legal place to hide. The "robot" would then place himself in the bathroom and "charge and blind" himself by placing the glowball on a light bulb thereby "charging" it, and at the same time, staring at the light buld in order to "blind" the "robot" once he left the bathroom in search of hiding victims.

The robot would go out in search of victims, usually stumbling around for about a minute as his eyes would re-adjust, all the while making silly robot or creepy noises to put the hiders on edge. Often, it was so dark that the robot would walk within inches of the person hiding, so the tension level was quite high and sometimes would result in normally "tough" boys squealing and laughing like little girls! The robot would go about the house looking for his victims by searching in all places with eyes and hands and feet.

Hiding spots were quite creative. I know of boys hiding on top of the stove, refrigerator, under couches (not just cushions, but the whole damned couch)and standing on the top of chair backs while balancing against a wall. No place was unrestricted unless it would not hold your weight.

Once the victim was found, one of two things happened.
CIRCUMSTANCE ONE: If a victim was found and said victim was out of arms reach, the glowball was thrown at the victim in an attempt to hit the victim with it and thereby making it the next robot. Often though, the throw would go wide and the would be victim would scream in terror, jump up (or down)from the hiding spot and flee around the house, slamming into, falling over, and climbing up things around the house, all while the robot tried to retrieve the glowball and follow in pursuit. The pursuit usually flushed out a few other hiding victims and so the robot would numerous possible targets, all running this way and that in hopes of avoiding the smack of a plastic glowball in the back, the legs, the head or nut sack.
CIRCUMSTANCE TWO: If a victim was found and said victim was within arms reach, the robot would, in an attempt increase his odds of hitting the victim with the glowball, deliver a mighty blow to the hiding victim. This was usually delivered to the gut or legs in an attempt to stun and immobilize them so that the glowball could be delivered with full force to the stunned victim, thereby making him the next Glowball Robot!

(Imagine the feeling of a hard plastic ball connecting with your body from a distance of about five feet, after it leaves the hand of an adrenaline crazed teenage boy, who finds a helpless victim to throw it at. Add to it that there is no recourse for the victim. He signed up for this game. Take the hit like a man, or leave the house. If you can imagine this, then you can understand the level of pain involved.)

For me, the best memory was one of my times as the robot. I came out of the bathroom, blind as a bat, looking for someone to throw this ball at. I circled the house at least once, and came back to the main living room. Still slightly blind, I did manage to perceive what I though was someones head sticking out from behind a chair back. Rather than check further, I chucked the ball at the "head" and was rewarded with a loud "THWOK!" and the glowball bounceing directly back at me as if it had hit a brick wall. I also heard a body hitting the floor and a moan of pain come from my buddy Mike, and a string of curses from him, followed by hoots and howls of laughter from everyone else hidden in the room. I admit I am not a great thrower of objects, but in the low light conditions and diminished eyesight, I must have let instinct and luck have free reign and I tagged him square in the forehead and nearly knocked him out. Someone turned the lights came on and we made sure he wasn't dead, and then proceeded to laugh ourselves silly for the next 15 minutes over his pain and my grand effort!

Thinking back on these games, I am amazed that nothing got broken in my parents house. Or nothing got broken to the point where it could not be fixed and made to look whole again. We always cleaned up after these games and it seemed as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the house. We must have done well, because my parents never said anything about it. Ever. We got lucky.

I found the glowball many years ago while attending college. Looking at it, I was overwhelmed with nostalgia that this little piece of plastic produced. I don't know what ever happened to it since then, but I am glad I have lost it. If not, I would be sorely tempted to have shown it to my kids and explained what glowball was. And then, glowball would be played in my house. And that would not be good. This is one game I think that is best left in the past and resurrected in story form only.

Snow Days

At the time of this writing, there is all kinds of warnings about heavy snowfall, freezing rain, and wicked wind speeds predicted to settle into our area and shut things down for a day or two. People are preparing by buying up milk and eggs, calling off meetings or already making notice that they might not be at work the next day. All this reminds me of those days back in grade school and high school when we had snow days. Not only did we get out of school, which was a GOOD THING, but it meant that my friends and I would have an extra day to hang out together and have all sorts of fun.

Should a snow day be declared, on the night before, phone calls would go out to make plans for the following day to meet somewhere (despite road conditions)and make the most of the frozen landscape with snowmobiles, ATV's or shovels. (We could build snow forts like no one's business)

But what I really enjoyed the most were those days when, either it was way to cold to be outside, or the idea of working that hard was not appealing, we would stay inside and play games. Classic 1970's board games geared towards boys. Games like Carrier Strike, Stratego, Chopper Strike, Tank Battle, Battleship!, Sub Search and of course, RISK. There were others too, but these are the ones that stick in my mind as the ones that made it to the game table more often than not.

We would break these games out and play for hours. If someone lost, there would be a rematch and the games would go on until satisfaction was won, or we got bored and moved on to a different game. RISK was a game that could go on for hours at a time, for as you know, there is no domination like total world domination in the classic game of RISK! Never surrender, never give up.

This was the time before video games. It was also before I discovered Dungeons & Dragons. I think this is why I love board games so much. It was such a part of my childhood that it was imprinted on my psyche that quality time equaled gaming time. There was no stigma connected to being a "gamer" at this point and we were never embarrassed to say we played games for hours on end and called it fun! We even bragged about it at school.

I know that snow days now are a high point in the school year, and kids get together to play games to celebrate it, but now they join online games connected via their computer or game console. No need to risk life and limb to get together anymore on a heavy snow day. I find it kind of sad, but it is part of the new world of technology that our kids live in. I embrace it too, but I would like to see my kids and their friends participate in a few more snow days like I used. Probably because I would like to join them...

The Steel Wheeled Chariot of Death!

At some point in my childhood, near about the time when most of my friends and I had learned to ride and drive mini-bikes and small motorcycles, our feelings of immortality were reaching their peak. After all, we had just conquered learning to ride motorcycles even before stepping in to a Driver's Education course to learn to drive cars. And as was the nature with those friends of mine, riding a motorcycle was just not enough. Riding by yourself was boring, unless you were in a race, or trying to run over one of your "ground-bound" friends with said motorcycle. (I should stop right here. We did not use motorcycles exclusively for this task. We found that hitting a person had a tendency to make the motorcycle unstable, so we quickly switched over to three-wheeled ATV's for this purpose)

Anyway, at some point, it was just more fun to have your friends come along for the ride and even though you could get one person on the back, having everyone in the group come along for the ride was even better. But how do you do this with a motorcycle that you can fit only one person on? You turn to the Steel Wheeled Chariot of Death.

The S.W.C of D. was a contraption that we created out of a old steel frame of some 1910 or 20's wagon that the wood components had long ago rotted away, leaving only the skeleton of welded and bolted metal to work with. I am not sure how it got there, but one day it appeared in the back part of my dad's yard, near the burn/trash pile. It was like a God-send to us boys and we immediately put it to good use!

We slapped a wooden door down on the frame, secured a back board to that and constructed a hitch of sorts that would attach to the back end of a motorcycle with out restricting the way a bike leans when turning. It all looked good in our minds and the best way to find out was to throw some people on and take it for a spin. Lo! and Behold! The damned thing worked perfectly. It took a bit of effort for the motorcycle operator to maintain an upright position on the bike due to the drag caused by the S.W.C of D. but it was not impossible to clip along at about 10 miles an hour over grass and fields with a few boys happily bouncing along behind in contraption that would eventually start to bend, bruise and almost break a number of boys in very short order.

Riding about on the Steel Wheeled Chariot of Death was fine if you were on soil, but once you hit paved or gravel roads, the ride became almost unbearable. Almost. We discovered that if you were riding in the S. W. C. of D. while on a road, you had to keep your mouth tightly shut or you might bite your tongue or crack your teeth due to the jackhammering that was a result of the bare steel wheels making contact with a hard surface like the road. Some riders preferred to stand, but this made the entire balance of the cart go wonky, so seated was the only way to be able to ride. The exception was standing on the very back of the cart, holding on to the backboard and standing on part of the frame. It was a prime position and one that allowed for quick exit from the cart once the ride was over. So we would jockey for position every time we used the cart and it was a useful contraption for about, oh, a week.

I remember it being a cool fall or spring day. The grass was still green, but it was very wet, and there were no crops in the fields, so it is hard to remember was season it was. Not that it matters. What matters is that a number of us had gathered from some reason in Claytonville. Probably a game day, or a bb gun fight, or something along those lines. Those present that I can remember, were Denver, Mike, Tom, Jeff, myself and I think my brother. We had all found ourselves at the bridge that crossed over the crick (Whiskey Creek) that passed by town. We had all arrived there via motorcycle and the Steel Wheeled Chariot of Death. But it was time to call it a day so we gathered up and headed back to town. (Which is only about a 40-50 second ride) On the motorcycle was Tom. On the S. W. C. of D. was Denver, Jeff, Mike, myself, and again, I think my brother. Everyone was on the cart, with Mike having secured the comfy position on the back. And off we went.

However, something went terribly wrong. Somewhere in the short time it took to get from the starting position to up to speed, someone or something caused the front of the cart to lift up, taking a good deal of ground traction off of the rear tire of the motorcycle and causing Tom to lose control of the bike. At this point, Mike saw what was coming and proceeded to jump off the back of the cart, which not only brought the front end down, but also propelled the cart frame into the back of the motorcycle tire and fender, catching up underneath the fender. Tom sped up immediately to attempt to unlock the motorcycle from the frame, which it did, but it in turned jerked the remaining riders back onto the backboard, causing us to clamber for secure positions.

The rest of this story is what I remember actually happening to me, and what I remember Mike telling us all what he saw after he exited the cart.

Mike said he saw the motorcycle and cart veer off of the road and down into the ditch, which had about a 10-12 foot drop. He said that Jeff tried to jump off the cart, got caught by the wheel as he left and fell onto the road as motorcycle and all were heading down into the ditch. He said, Denver and I had grabbed on to one another like two lovers in a full hug embrace, bouncing up and down on the cart, trying desperately to stay on board. And then the cart started to roll and proceeded to throw everyone, including Tom on the motorcycle, from their seated postions, out into the ditch and accompanying field.

From my perspective, all I remember was seeing the motorcycle in front of me start to fishtail horribly, someone screaming and jumping off the cart, and noticing the cart was no longer behind, but above the motorcycle that was supposed to be pulling it! I suppose this was because the motorcycle was headed down into the ditch, with the S.W.C. of D. in full pursuit. As the cart began to tilt and roll, I attempted to jump out, but the shoulder of my army jacket got caught in the spokes of the steel wheels and it pulled me down and around, my arm actually ripping out the 2x4 that was used to support the backboard to the wood door we used as a floor. I remember seeing things upside down as I rolled on the grass, the Steel Wheeled Chariot of Death flipping over, and Tom and the motorcycle also falling to the ground, to stop at the bottom of the soggy edge of the field. And I remember laughter.

Mike was laughing his ass off. He was standing up on the road, looking down at us and laughing as hard as he ever had. We all stood up, looked to make sure nothing was broken on us, and once assured of that, began the excited retelling of surviving the trip of death on our now bent and broken Steel Wheeled Chariot of Death. My shoulder hurt like hell. Jeff was kind of banged up from landing on the road, and Tom was pissed because something had broken on his motorcycle. I don't recall what happened to Denver, but he survived realatively unscathed.

We limped back home to my house and my friends went their own ways, but the next day at school we had a story to tell! I don't recall was happended to the S.W.C.of D. but we never used it again. I don't even think we pulled it out of the ditch. I supposed someone drug it out and used it for scrap metal, but it, like so many other things from my childhood, was one of those things I will never forget.

Story time...

This year I am going to spend more time on the old blog with stories from my childhood. And by "childhood" I mean that period of time when I was between the years of 8 and 17. I seem to recall that most of my memorable childhood stories come from that age range, but don't expect me to be able to nail down exactly how old I was in some of these stories. My childhood was a ton of fun and it all seemed to run together in terms of years. The best I might be able to do is say I was on the older range or the younger range of my childhood. I hope you enjoy these stories and maybe even share this with your child and tell he or she, "Do not do stuff like this!" Maybe someone can learn from my mistakes... but then again, I survived and still have all my parts.... almost. Over time you will come to know my best buddies and members of my family, and maybe figure out just how I managed to survive my childhood and some of what makes me tick.

OF GRILLS AND MUSHROOM CLOUDS

Life as a kid in Claytonville, Il. was one of making your own fun, because let's face it, living in town that consists of 50-60 people, of which 90% were hard working adults, could get pretty boring. And a small town located in east central Illinois,in the late 70's and early 80's, saying that modernity and "civilization" had arrived there, was stretching the truth a bit. Sure, we had heat (downstairs) in the winter, but no air conditioning in the summer. (My parents waited until every kid was out of the house before getting that.) We even had indoor running water, flush toilets and all that, so don't get the idea that it was like living on the frontier, but many modern conveniences that those living in the big cities of Paxton or Champaign took for granted, we did not have. Movie theaters, colored TV or more than three channels to watch, parks, and so forth So, as kids we made our own fun. Usually with things that exploded. Or burnt. Or melted. Or went fast or shot things. You get the idea. Here is one that everyone in my family knows about and for the most part, several members of the families of those involved.

Summers in Claytonville were fun. Jobs were easy to find if you were willing to work on a farm or outside, but work was work and that was not fun. Most of my friends and I worked only in the morning of the summer to avoid the heat of the day, leaving the rest of the day to use as we saw fit. One one particular day, we decided to beat the heat by holing up in a small copse of trees that lined a cornfield. It was your typical hedge row, with tangled Osage orange trees, horse-weeds, wild raspberry bushes and tall grasses all growing in the same small condensed area. It was located just a few hundred yards from my house, right near the railroad tracks that cut Claytonville in half, running east and west. (Debate still rages as to who lived on the right side of the tracks and who did not)

The little hedgerow had served as hideout, enemy territory, hunting ground, and a myriad of other purposes, depending on the mood and ideas of the boys using it. At this particular time, we (Tom, Mike, my brother Darryl, and myself) were using it as shade from the heat and as a private men's club, complete with manufactured luxuries, including a brick fireplace and grill. Despite the heat of summer, we stoked a fire in the tiny fireplace and were enjoying the idea of being men among men, having constructed our own man-cave where we could eat, sleep, and drink anytime we liked. Not that we slept there or ate there, but we did drink there. Soda. And lots of it! Especially root beer and Pepsi.

Empty bottles were scattered about in every direction. Neatness was not something that was high on our club's priorities. Suffice it to say that there were a number of them sitting around and eventually one of these empty bottles must have caught the attention of one of us. I am not sure who started it, but I recall that someone had acquired a bottle, filled it half full of water from a nearby mud-puddle, and had corked it with a mixture of mud and dried corncob, firmly shoved down the neck of the bottle. Said bottle was soon placed on the fireplace/grill and the fire increased until the water began to boil within the bottle, creating immense pressure that would finally result in the makeshift cork to fail and the water to fountain out of the bottle, much to the delight of those present in the little hedgerow. About 4 or 5 bottles were sacrificed in this manner before someone would take our idea on a wicked turn.

Most of the ideas that we came up with to avoid boredom were usually good at first, but then, some idiot, (always one of the usual suspects) would decide to escalate the idea to its most illogical ___________. (fill in the blank with words anything like; conclusion, explosion, concussion, piercing, collision, etc, etc.) Without fail, this is indeed what happened. The idiot in this case (or at the time and age, genius)was my best buddy, Mike.

Mike lived across the tracks and if there is someone who you will meet in these stories more often than not, it will be Mike. Mike was a good friend for me to have. He knew (as all best buddies do) how to push my buttons and made me stretch myself as a person. He dared (and sometimes forced) me to do things I probably would not have done. He was very outgoing and everyone liked him, but I got to call him my best friend.

Mike had stepped out of the hedgerow and had come back with a bottle filled to the top and well stoppered with not just mud and corncob but a hefty amount of clay, which could be found just about anywhere in Claytonville. (There used to be a brick factory that was housed on the ground were my house and outbuildings were located) He came back with almost a wild look in his eye, as he placed the bottle on the grill and added more wood and fuel to the fire. Looking back now, it was obvious what he had done, but at that time, it just did not seem like anything was wrong, at least at first. But then, we noticed, as the bottle started to show the first bubbles of boiling, that the liquid in the bottle was two toned, and that Mike was very cautiously, yet very deliberately, inching backwards AWAY from the fireplace and the bottle set upon the tiny grill plate. Normally, we would get close to things that were flaming or on otherwise about to flame up, but this time, it was different.

Call it some unseen or unspoken signal, some smell of fear, or maybe we were all realizing what might just be in that bottle that we all began moving back to a safe distance of, oh, say, 5 to 10 feet, but at the same time, still give us front row viewing for the upcoming show. And what a show it was!

At some point, the level of heat had made the "water" in the bottle reach the point where it would shoot the cork off. However, Mike had done a marvelous job at securing the cork in the bottle. So much so, that instead of shooting out the corncob cork, the bottle instead burst apart and released what, to our eyes, was essentially the god of HellFire! (There was much rejoicing.) When that bottle exploded, the water, and what ever else was mixed into it, combined with the air and created (Okay, now remember, I am trying to remember this with my child's eye and memory.) a column of fire about 6 feet around, and a resulting mushroom ball of fire and smoke that belched up through the trees (full grown) and out of the canopy for about five feet. After a cursory glance about to see if anyone was dead or bleeding, we all jumped up to survey the damage to our little club and congratulate each other on being present for such a show, much less on simply being alive and in one piece. Our fireplace and grill, and the fire within were snuffed out of existence. Dried grass on the ground and small leaves on the trees above us were still smoking, but for the most part there was little damage done. Once again, God had looked out for us and kept us safe, despite our best efforts.

It seems that Mike had traveled outside of the realm of regular mud-puddles and went to where there was a fuel refilling station that carried, home heating fuel, gas, diesel, and kerosene. This station was, like so many things, just about 150 yards from my house and about 25 yards (certainly more than safe enough distance) from where we were having our little experiment using fire and water. In huge tanks that were suspended horizontally on steel trusses, there was somewhere close to 500,000 gallons of fuel. These resided in a retaining pit, surrounded by only a grass berm, in which was an ever present pond of water that even on a good day, was about 2/3 water and 1/3 fuel mix. It was here that Mike apparently went to fill his bottle. (Thinking back on this, it is a good damned thing none of us ever took up smoking, because had we, eventually, especially with as much time as we spent in, on, or around this place, we would have dropped a lit match or cigarette in this pond of fuel mixture)

While we were excited talking about our most recent venture in to explosive experimentation, and discussing what it would take to rebuild the fireplace so we could do it again, we all heard the one thing that would make us freeze in fear, or annoyance. My mother, who normally worked during the day in the summer, happened to be home and was washing dishes in the kitchen. There is a window right next to the sink and unfortunately, that window looks right out in the direction of the fuel tanks and the hedgerow where the god of Hellfire had just appeared moments ago.

There is not a single friend of mine that will ever forget the shrill voice of my mother calling for me or my brother or any of their names from across the yard or tracks. Normally it was to call us home. This time however, it had a particular "shrillness" that conveyed both anger, fright, and concern. It only took one call from my mother for Tom and Mike to high-tail it across the track to his house to hide out and leave my brother and I to our fates.

For my brother and I, we had the unfortunate luck to have to go home after a parent had seen what had just happened and at the same time, have a the one person also in the house that for some reason, scared us more than our father. My older brother, David. He came charging out of the house and met us as we were coming back and proceeded to chew us out for doing some so dangerous and crazy. And looking back, I think he was more worried (and maybe rightly so) about the fact that we could have ignited over 500,000 gallons of fuel and in a blink of an eye, remove an entire town from the map. I would not be surprised if he didn't think that if we killed ourselves, he would have two less problems in the world to deal with.

But in the end, I cannot really recall what our punishment was for being part of the fireball incident, probably because I was so incredibly psyched up about being so close to something so cool. I think my brother and I got grounded, but being grounded in a small town is not really much of a punishment so it was kind of a wash and I as you will find out, no lesson was learned, except on how to make bigger fireball.

Face the Facts.

Face the facts. Then act on them. It's the only mantra I know, the only doctrine I have to offer you, and it's harder than you'd think, because I swear humans seem hardwired to do anything but. Face the facts. Don't pray, don't wish, don't buy into centuries-old dogma and dead rhetoric. Don't give in to your conditioning or your visions or your fucked-up sense of...whatever. Face the facts. Then act.
-Quellcrist Falconer, Speech before the assault on Millsport.
(from the book, "Broken Angels" by Richard K. Morgan)

An interesting way of dealing with life. For a sci-fi book, it has alot of philosphical ideas in it from a character you never meet, but is only mentioned in a historical context, and is quoted at the beginning of new chapters.

My Friends, The Things That Do Attain.

MY friend, the things that do attain
The happy life be these, I find:
The riches left, not got with pain;
The fruitful ground; the quiet mind;

The equal friend; no grudge; no strife;
No charge of rule, nor governance;
Without disease, the healthy life;
The household of continuance;

The mean diet, no dainty fare;
Wisdom joined with simpleness;
The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppress:

The faithful wife, without debate;
Such sleeps as may beguile the night;
Content thyself with thine estate,
Neither wish death, nor fear his might.

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey


Encountered on episode 4 of season 4 of "The Tudors." A series definately worth the time to watch. Netflix, baby.

later.

Growing up...

Very recently, I asked my son to clear out some space in his bookshelf to put some other items that were kind of looking for a home. Seeing that those item without a stable home were GUNS, he jumped at the chore with a gusto that I have not seen in a long time. He got things reorganized and set up very nicely, but in the course of clearing out space, he put in a pile, a small collection of items that were part of his childhood. Some were things to sell on a garage sale, and some were thing to save, but they were all big parts of his childhood, and he had decided that they no longer had a place in his room. It made me kind of sad. I remembered buying those items, or helping him make them, or remember something associated with them. Like the little HALO video game figurines. I remember the time we spent together playing that video game for hours and then he would play with the figurines in his room later. Or the models of vehicles. We would make some of them in the basement in my tool room and then paint them, spending many hours together doing this. And very recently, I noticed that his bike tire was flat, and I asked him if he would take it up to the tire repairman to get it fixed, but he said, "I don't think I am going to ride it anymore. You can sell it on the garage sale." I was kind of heartbroken. At one time, that bike was his main form of transportation and he selected it out of all the other kinds of bikes, and now it is no more than something that is taking up room in the garage.

All of these things are most likely destined for the garage sale or storage box, but I am reluctant to let them go away. So many of those things have memories that I have associated with them, and I know he has memories attached to them too, so I am reluctant to let them go, thinking that at some point, he might want them in the future. I have many things that I have kept from my childhood, and while I do not use them or play with them, I will at times, bring them out, look them over and let the nostalgia and memories wash over me. And that is what I don't want him to miss out on. Moments like that are important and I would hate for him to someday be thinking about something and remember that he USED to have an item that relates to that memory. Not that he (or my daughter for that matter) needs to keep everything they have, but I would hate for them to get rid of things that really meant alot to them, just for the sake of making room for something else.

Maybe I will just hold on to them for him.

later!

Why Steampunk? And why now?

For a short while now, a larger part of my attention and imagination has been focused on the idea of the Steampunk Culture, both in what (and when or where) it is, how it looks, what has been written about it, and how it is written. Steampunk is a fairly new cultural phenomena, coming out of the grunge and goth late 1990's (although the term has been around in literature since 1987) and making it's way in to becoming it's own style and subculture. Here is what some, more learned than I have to say about it.

What is Steampunk?
More what is it?
And one more, with pictures!

For me, I find it very intersting and intriguing, for a number of reasons.
First and foremost, it looks really cool, and I guess that somewhere deep down inside of me, I must have some sort of fashionista struggling to get out. I have always liked the fashions of past time periods. (With the exception of the late 1990's and anything from the late 1960's through the 1970's... holy crap. That is like 22/3rds of the time I have been alive!) The Victorian time period was a great time for fashion and design. It is simply very cool to look at and to wear. But Steampunk fashion is only based in the Victorian time period. It appears Victorian for the most part, but look closer and you can see all that little extras that come from a "history that never was." I like the look of the mix of industrial parts added on to simple (or elegant) clothing, and if done right, some of the clothing can be worn everyday without much notice. (Try wearing a 14th Century European article of clothing and see what kind of looks and questions you get!)

Another big aspect about it, is the history. in the second half of the 19th Century, human events and history was moving forward so fast that it can only be compared to what we are experiencing today. I really enjoy learning about all different aspects of history and this is no exception. That is why I love to do historical re-enacting. And I am starting to understand more about the late 19th Century as I look deeper in the steampunk culture. So maybe it is for me, another possible form of re-enacting. Except that unlike in true re-enacting, you don't have to limit yourself to "what they would have had", or "how they would have done it," to get your personal re-enacting impression down correctly.

For so very long I have been part of groups were you could not have this or that or do this or that because it is not "period correct." Don't get me wrong. I am one of the biggest "accuracy/authenticity nazi's" out there in the re-enacting world. If you are attempting to re-create or retell a period of history, you better do it right or don't do it at all! And maybe that is why steampunk is so appealing to me right now. I don't have to stay within a certain historical time-frame limit with steampunk. Yeah, it is Victorian based, but it is also Science-fiction and fantasy and is really more about portraying a "future-past that never was." It is embracing a love of the past, while at the same time bringing in all the cool technology that we can come to love in our own time period. After all, who wants to be without their smartphone, laptops or MP3 players. In steampunk, you can have them all, but you attempt to bring them back to the 19th century as how "they might have been" had the current 19th Century technology and sciences been able to do all they had hope and theorized it could do. (Think Jules Verne, or HG Wells)

Lately, I have been getting a bit disappointed with my re-eancting hobby. I still love it to death, but as in the case of medieval re-eancting, the events are to few and far between. Most options available to myself and those in my living history troupe are Renaissance faires, and to be honest with you, the attempts at re-creating history most of the people who attend them, is fair to middling at best. So much of it is "farby," a term used to describe something in re-enacting that is not period accurate, or just plain wrong, but used anyway. My 18th Century re-eancting does a much better job of portraying history correctly, but again, the events are often time very far away, usually involves me packing and hauling a great deal of large gear for four people to set up a camp, and lately the events have become rather routine in how an event passes over a weekend. (Set up camp, drill, morning colors, drill, morning battle, shop, drill, morning battle, evening colors. Yes, I know it is a military camp, and so it should be routine, but this is my hobby and I want my hobbies to be fun!) This is all well and good for the presentation of history, but it can get a bit stale at times. There is a movement afoot in the 18th Century re-eancting world to change this up and make events more free flowing and I find those events to be much more refreshing, but alas, they are the minority.

Another aspect of the Steampunk culture is that it seems to be a very social thing. Parties and social events, rather than re-enactments are more the norm, and the whole thing seems to flow well within events such as gaming conventions and the like. (GenCon has a very active steampunk following. I need to look into that for next year.) This year there is the TeslaCon in Madison WI. that looks to be quite an event, but attending it is not in the cards for me this year. Maybe next year!

So, I have begun to dip my toe into the Steampunk pool. I want to bring my wife along but I want to see if it is something we will enjoy. I think we will. (It seems to be a more "adult-oriented" activity and doing something just with her is very appealing to me.) I know for a fact that she would look "smokin-HAWT!" in some of the Steampunk styled victorian clothing. I am looking around for pointers on fashion ideas, gear, and socializing in our area, or at least within a reasonable distance. Hopefully it will be a fun and rewarding experience. If you hear of anything, please tell me! If and when things start to happen, I will let you know and maybe post some photos. Until then, 'Carry on!"

Later!

Thinking back on a great weekend.

11 days ago from this writing was my 45th birthday. And while I don't always deserve it, my wife and kids spoil me on my special day. I spoil myself by taking the day off from work each year, but my family spoils me in a different way. They go out of their way to make the day fun, stress free, and simply a great day. Last year, my wife blew the top off of all other birthdays with presenting me with not only a homemade red velvet cake, compliments of my mother, but she also arranged to somehow talk my friends to buy me a bottle of some the best port wine there is, and then she manipulates, plans, begs, borrows and steals her way clear to get into her possession, (and subsequently mine) a Ruger Redhawk, .44 Magnum pistol for my 44th birthday. Talk about a fantastic birthday! This year, I was not really looking for anything, money is damned tight, and I did not want them to go overboard, so I kind of just layed low with ideas. The only thing I really wanted to do was go to Turkey Run and have some fun on my birthday. They had other plans. As expected, I got to sleep in just a bit longer than usual. (Dogs have no concept of birthdays...) I got a nice breakfast made for me, and then the kids and my wife gave me my gifts. I had mentioned that I would like a certificate for a pedicure (Yes, a pedicure. Don't frakking knock it until you have experienced one for yourself!) and indeed I got one, compliments of my wife and daughter. And then my wife gives me essentially a picture of what the rest of my gift was. Due to mailing problems, I would not receive the gift until the next day, she wanted me to see it. It was a Mossberg, 702 Plinkster .22 Long rifle AR-15 styled rifle and it was sweet!! It is a really nice looking gun and I was thinking of getting this for my son for his birthday, which is why it came on her radar. Now I thought that she bought it for me, but I was wrong. Boy was I wrong. Come to find out, my son bought it for me with the first two paychecks from his new job! And he was actually the one who forwarded the idea of buying it for me. The whole idea was enough to bring tears to my eyes! I was floored and really humbled by their actions. Especially those of my son.

After getting over the emotion of the morning, we set out for Turkey Run with the dogs and had a wonderful time walking the trails, enjoying the fall weather and scenery and simply having a good time. We even hit a few flea markets while visiting in Indiana. And to follow that up, we later had a meal at my favorite restaurant in Gibson City, the Bayern Stube, serving up Oktoberfest goodies!

Throughout this whole day, and for that matter, the whole weekend, I was cognizant to stop for a few moments throughout the day and just drink in the feeling of being alive and healthy, surrounded by my family and friends, and knowing that it is days like this that make life worth living. I want to thank my family for making it a great weekend and I hope I can do the same for them in return. They are the best, and I am lucky to have them.

Whew... It has been a long time...

Sorry folks... i just have not had the muse to write anything. I blame it on Facebook. Anytime I want to talk about something, I post a tiny status update and it seems to satisfy my need to write about it and hence the old blog gets ignored. NOT that I have anything to say now. But I will start small. Here is a link to me in ANOTHER blog that I follow. Kind of weird seeing my name somewhere else.

Anyway. I promise to write more in the blog. Just let me get my writing juices going again.

Thanks!

Later!

Tooting my own horn..

My job is neither glamourous or high paying but it is rewarding and worthwhile. Here are a couple of links about it!

Video

Article

Post GenCon report

What can I say about Gen Con 2010? FRAKKING AWSOME!!! Yeah. That pretty much sums it up for me. I had hyped myself up for it for about 4 months so anything less than AWESOME would have been a major let down. However, I was not disappointed and I had an AWESOME time at Gen Con 2010! Have I mentioned how AWESOME it was?

Like I said, I was really, really geeked to go to Gen Con 2010 this year. Why so much more than in years past? I don't really know. Some of it may have been that some of my best gamer buddies were gonna be there with me, and despite a shortened trip, my wife and kids would be there too. Added to that, the Gen Con Indy Facebook page kept beating me about the head and shoulders with AWESOME things that were going to be happening at the convention almost everyday with status updates on its FB page. Combined with the fact that I am a true gamer geek, I was primed and ready to go!

I had signed up for 6 games to play over the weekend, and that, my friend, is a paltry amount to sign up for, but I have reasons for limiting my game time, which I will explain later. I love all games, except for collectible card games, and word based games. What I love about Gen Con is that you can play your favorite games and try out some you have heard about, or simply take a shot in the dark and try something "completely different."
I played Poo the Card game, a game based on the unsavory habit of monkeys throwing poo around at each other; Are You A Werewolf?, a fun social game that invovles no board or dice, but simple persuasion and logical reasoning; Conflict of Heroes, a WWII strategy based game that is the game that everyone who has ever played Squad Leader in the past, wishes this game came out alot earlier. And the final three games were Battlestar Galactica, (one of the top three games I have ever played), Memoir '44 (right up there with Battlestar) and Dawn Patrol- Fight in the Skies, a WWI aerial combat simulation game. Of all of these games, I had the most fun playing Battlestar, learned the most from Dawn Patrol, and had the most excitement with Memoir '44. And what really rocked about all the games is that I did not lose a single game I played!!! (In some of these games, simply surviving to the end is being a winner.)

As an aside, I do not play D&D at Gen Con. I did it once, and that was enough to: 1. Say I played at Gen Con, and: 2. Playing styles are so different from group to group; you have no idea what you might get into. As one of my friends found out, playing D&D at Gen Con can be risky, so I don’t risk it. I would rather spend my time playing other games and broadening my gaming horizons…

So, you might ask, if you are having so much fun, then why not play more games? Because half of going to Gen Con, is exploring Indianapolis, or at least the center of the city. If you have not been to Indy in a while, then get yourself over there! It is a happening place! But what makes the time in the city so much fun, is that just about every business there, throws open their doors to 30,000 gamers and doesn't look back. These welcome the gamers, with all their weird, loveable quirks, their out of style (or out of the ordinary)fashions, and there random times of dining and drinking. (It has to fit around their gaming schedule, you know...) Many of the buisnesses change theri decor and menu to fit into the convention better. Take for instance the bar Scotty's or The Ram, where they have a menu completely reworked to appeal to a D&D or Magic the Gathering gamer. Ordering a plate of fried goblin ears is not out of the ordinary at a Gen Con friendly eating establisment! My friend, family and I, go out on the town, we eat at dfferently places and we visit new merchants. And we spend some good money. Our waiter at a wonderful bar called "Tastings",

If you have never been to the convention, it is kind of hard to explain what it is like. My family, friends and I, we do the convention to death! We play games, we shop, we eat, we play games, do some people watching, we eat, we shop, and occasionally try to get 5 hours of sleep in each night. (Weak, I know, but I have kids, and they need their rest) If possible, I would stay up around the clock playing games. My daughter is starting to become a big gamer, already stretching her abilities to play games that are out of the ordinary, or simply just wanting to try a new game to see what it is like. My son, he is comfortable with games that are tried and true for him. To get him to try something new is a bit more challenging, but once tried, he usually will come backt to the table to play it again. My wife, while not a hard core gamer, is one of those gamers that, if a game "clicks" with her, you better watch out, cause she will beat your ass in that game. I don't think she got to play as many games as she wanted but I am sure she enjoyed the convention all the same.

Courtesy of Wil Wheaton

This was suppose to be posted to the blog BEFORE I went to Gen Con, but apparently, Blogger was not cooperating... so I post it now...



From the introduction of his "gaming Chapbook" which will be on sale at GENCON this weekend. I hope to get one. (and I did)

It sums up alot about what is good about gaming and why I do it. Thank goodness there is someone like Wil, (whose character I really did not like on Star Trek the Next Generation, but I really like as a person in real life.) who is a advocate for gamers and can put into words, those things the rest of us gamers feel.

"Of all the things that make me a geek, nothing brings me more joy, or is more important to me, than gaming. I am the person I am today because of the games I played and the people I played them with as I came of age in the 80s.
This is a small collection of stories about gaming in its various forms, from cards to dice to computers to our beloved tabletop RPGs. Most of these stories were originally published in 2009, when my son Ryan was away at college, and my son Nolan was 17.


Keep playing games. Games are important. Games matter. When you play a game - any game - you’re using your imagination to bring a world to life, and that’s truly special, because while all destruction is essentially the same, when you create something, it’s different every single time. When you create something together, you’re building bonds with your fellow gamers that could last for your entire lives. The Venn Diagram of my best friends, my gaming group, and people from high school I still hang out with is one perfect circle. I suspect that for many gamers of my generation, that’s equally true ... and I know that my kids will be saying the same thing in 20 years about people they’ve never met face to face, but interact with almost every day in an online game that will make Call of Duty look then like Pong looks today."


Roll 20s,
Wil Wheaton
August 3, 2010


Later... Game on! Coming soon, pictures and review from GenCon!

Time to play... a game!

You all know I am a big gamer, but often it can be a struggle to get others interested in games and gaming in general. Here is a great idea to try and break open the barriers to getting more people into gaming.

Check it out HERE

I like guns...

Here are some videos that I was recently turned on to. This bloke is from Australia and it seems that he has some of the same desires (and problems) as many American gun owners. Check out his first video, "I like Guns."



His second video is actually even better. If it were not for the accent, this guy could be talking about America.



Enjoy the show!

Later!

Conan: The Musical

Yep. They made one. A short one, but here it is.

Gamer Gurl...

As many of you might know, my family and I are big gamers. We play games of all sorts and attend a few gaming conventions throughout the year, GenCon being the biggest and the best. I love it. I love having a family that games with me and yesterday was no exception, EXCEPT, that yesterday my daughter joined a D&D game that was a trip back to the past for me, and a new experience for the rest of the group. The adventure, or module as it was called in the 80's was White Plume Mountain, probably one of the best D&D adventures ever created. It was a killer adventure in the 80's when I played it, but it has been toned down a bit for the current version of the game, but it is still a very lethal bit of imaginative gaming. But this is not about the adventure, this is about my little girl, who will be 12 soon, playing in a game that I was so excited to host, and then to find out, that despite having never read the core rule books, and having only played one other time before, she nails this portion of the adventure with original ideas, useful and helpful comments and a real desire to be part of the group.
With her help, the first part of this adventure went a little more easily on the players than I remember it from the past, but it was still fun and I think that my players really had to think and act smartly in order to be successful. I was proud of her and how she comported herself during the game. I have both of my kids playing the game I grew up with and they certainly seem to like playing with me, or at least I hope so! But I was really proud of her. She says she had a lot of fun, and I hope she did. She still has alot to learn about the game, and so far, no one seems to mind helping her with some of the more intricate rules and methods of game play. And, in time, I hope she will be able to stand on her own in a game where she is kind of an outsider, but for right now, I like having her as part of my gaming group.
Say what you will about the game Dungeons & Dragons, but in my experience, this game has been nothing more than a positive experience for me, and I hope to be able to make it the same for my kids and the rest of my gaming group. I know what it did for me, and I am interested to see what it will do for my kids.

later!

1+1=7....

This...
















will get you this!!!










Astrid had her first litter of pups on the 4th of June at 11:45pm and the last one was born on the 5th of June at 2:15am. Everything went perfectly and the pups are thriving. We have only one left to find a home for. All the rest are reserved and will be going to good homes sometime in early August. This has been some of the most fun I have had in a long time. Hard work with lots of worry, but worth it all!


Enjoy the photos!

Later!

Had to share this!!!!

WWII on Facebook