I never found out.

While reading the Indianapolis Star this morning,  I came across a section entitled ‘Christmas memoriams’.  It’s an area of the paper where folks can put a little  remembrance and maybe a picture of a deceased loved one. Memorial Day in May is another time of year when these same kind of dedications show up near the obituary pages.    

This is not a custom that I ever gave much thought to but I can see why someone would want to do it. Christmas can be such a lonely time of the year. 

Today’s pages contain some very nice sentiments to mothers, fathers and grandparents but many of the dedications are also made to young people who never got to live out their three score and ten.  Being somewhat of a curious nature,  I always wonder what  might have happened.

There’s one to a beautiful girl named Kristan who died at the age of 20. I wonder what it might have been that ended her life; an accident perhaps or a terrible disease. Anorexia crossed my mind for no particular reason other than what I read about young girls habits but based on the picture, it probably wasn’t anything like that. Maybe she died in childbirth or God forbid, an angry boyfriend took her life. Who’s to know except the people who knew her.  Nonetheless, there might be a good story in there.

Here’s another. A nice looking young man in a cowboy hat. 21 years old. And another, aged 22, wearing a baseball cap and nicknamed ‘Dude’ . I’m thinking auto accidents given the statistics on young male drivers.  But once again, who’s to know?

The only thing I get out out of this whole thing is that even though it’s hard to grasp, every day can start out to be your last.

One dedication I didn’t find was a piece on a young man named Ronald. For years, it seemed like any holiday that I opened the paper to one of these sections, I found his picture and a nice verse about his life. It’s not like I was looking for it or anything. His picture just sort of jumped out at me after seeing it two or three times; probably because he sort of looked like a classmate of mine.

I don’t want you to think that I purposely went searching for this stuff. It was just accidental.  I didn’t look at the paper every holiday but whenever I did, there was Ronald staring back at me. I think it was his parents that put it in the paper but I don’t remember for sure. 

Anyway, Ronald wasn’t there today. We’ve been retired and traveling for six years  so it’s probably been that long since I looked at one of these pages. Maybe in that time, his parents finally came to grips with Ronald’s passing or perhaps they passed on themselves.

In this age of Google searches and 24/7 news channels, it seems like there is a way to find an answer for any kind of question you might want answered. But not in this case. I’m never going to know who Ronald was, how he died or why he’s not in the papers anymore.

It’s a little disconcerting.  

Merry Christmas, anyway.

whenever I get to wondering…..

16 years ago, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and elected to have the whole damn cancer surgically removed, prostate and all. Bad news: That was the end of any more little Grindstaffs. Good News: I learned not to call it a prostrate.

On occasion, I wonder what would have happened had I not elected to go through with the surgery. A couples of days ago, Dan Fogelberg’s  passing reminded me once again why I did.

Are these worth anything?

We are currently working on our son, Jason’s bathroom and are finding ourselves amazed by the things that the old man who used to live here saved. We found these in the garage on a shelf. 

He has old boxes of this kind of stuff everywhere. If I was of a mind to get involved in E-Bay,  I think we could make a little money. 

I wonder how long it’s going to take..

before Mustapher Duke, Princess Alima and the Yahoo Lottery are going to learn that I’m not interested in claiming my winnings.

I also wonder if Geraldine Kirby can really increase the size of my xxx equipment or if, in fact, she’s just some blowhard who makes these ridiculous claims to part some fool from his money. 

A day in the life of the big city newspaper.

It has been snowing for the past couple of days and yesterday, I sat down after doing my chores and went throught the entire Saturday Indianapolis Star.   There were so many stories in there that I wanted to talk about with someone but unfortunately I was the only one around. This Post is my only remaining outlet aside from talking to myself; a habit which I’ve picked up somewhere along the way and one that Susie wishes I would abandon. She would also like to see me gid myself of another habit which annoys her greatly; that of shaking my head when I talk. This is something I was not even aware that I did until she brought it up. I don’t even know for sure I ever did do that but now I find myself comsciously trying to hold my head still. I suspect this has caused me to twitch  a bit now and then when the urge to move my head becomes overwhelming.   I have also taken to purposely nodding my head like a Groucho Marx Bobblehead when Susie comes into the room. Much of the time, she will ignore me but occasionally I can get a “Will you please stop that before I put your head in a vise??”

Anyway, back to the newspaper. There is a story about an adoptive mom who allegedly murdered her adopted Korean daughter. Mothers killing children. Not a rare news item these days. The only reason I mention it at all is because the lady was described as a “regular church goer” by a neighbor. I guess most child murderers don’t attend church regularly. 

Another item of interest concerned a start up of a Pet Funeral home franchising operation and I thought all the good money making ideas had already been hatched.  One of the lead stories concerned a settlement between Jack Trudeau and the Hamilton County Prosecutor. Mr Trudeau is a former Colts quarterback and he was arrested for providing alcohol to attendees at his daughter’s high school graduation party. Originally it looked as if he might go to jail over it but he ended up paying a 5000 dollar fine instead. Everybody is happy here. However, the question of teen drinking was not answered nor will it ever be. Each generation has to learn on its own, I suppose. 

The lead story on the the sports page concerned the question of whether Butler University will become the ‘next Gonzaga’ when it comes to their basketball program.  Butler’s team is composed of real student athletes with a 92 percent graduation rate. I gathered that the newspaper was advocating  Butler abandon that stance in order to take their basketball program to the next level. A new stadium and a coach who makes at least 600 thousand dollars were also mentioned.   I wasn’t aware that we were looking for a new Gonzaga and I suspect that many other universities would like to become the ‘next Butler’. The recent trend of having basketball savants on the college floor  for one year before they take off for the NBA may end up restoring college ball to what it should be, a game for real students.   

A Blizzard??? Run for your life.

The television is telling me that we are going to be experiencing blizzard conditions by tomorrow night. I’m glad we’re not out at our barn. We’re snug as a rug at our son, Jason’s, house in Indianapolis.

Last week it snowed a couple of inches and the barn was pretty isolated. I went out there to pick up some tools and took this picture.

If we had a fireplace out there, I’d probably be headed that way to ride out the onrushing blizzard. However, I’m no fool. Exactly.

Honest to God. I wouldn’t make something like that up.

I was writing a little blurb about baseball a while ago and the fact that I was a St. Louis Cardinal fan when Harry Caray was the play by play announcer. Harry’s primary sponsor in 1953  was the Griesedeick (pronounced greasy – dick) Brothers brewing company.

I told that to someone the other day and this person didn’t believe me. I think he (or she) thought I was a pervert. I remembered that conversation tonight and I went to Google where I found (among other things) this history of the company. 

I wish I could remember who it was I had the conversation with. I’d show him (or her) the reference and tell him (again, or her) this should prove that I’m not a pervert. 

Why didn’t I think of that?

I just read a few days ago that no one in the United States of America is allowed to give the thumbs up (or down) when referring to the worth of a movie.

That gesture has been trademarked by the handlers of Siskel and Ebert and they want to be paid if someone sticks the old thumb up. 

Don’t do it.  

major league baseball.

I’m glad I’m not a fan anymore.  I lost interest back in the mid – 60’s after all my baseball heroes had retired. I was also newly married  and baseball was no longer my  number one sport. 

Still, I had followed the fortunes of the St. Louis Cardinals beginning with the 1947 season.  I could not even begin to tell you why the Cardinals were my favorite team. They were not the best by any stretch of the imagination. I suspect it was the presence of Stan the man Musial. 

No matter. The game I followed was nothing like the game of today. The ball was different, the parks were different, the rules were different and none of the players were chemically enhanced. 

Baseball’s  hierarchy is pissing and moaning now about steroid use but I’m pretty sure they enjoyed the increased interest in the game when McGuire, Sosa and Bonds were hitting ‘em over the fences like they were in a little park.

I suppose baseball was a business even back in 1947  although I always had the feeling that the owners were in it for bragging rights more than money.  Nowadays I think they’re out to prove that you can get blood out of a turnip. They use to say (maybe they still do) that slaughterhouses used every part of the pig except the curl in the tail. Owners are doing the same thing with baseball,  squeezing every possible penny out of their game. Of course, when you’re paying a player 275 million dollars, I suppose you have to.

No, I’m not a fan anymore. It’s not baseball.   

Okay, it’s not Tiny Tim.

Being in a festive mood earlier this week, I wrote a Christmas story for my weekly column.