Boring Childhood Stories: Unexpected Funerals

This story doesn't actually belong to me, but it's one of the best I have, and the topic has come up recently in my comments...

The year was 1981. I had just moved from my Mom's place to my Dad's. Luckily, they were divorced or this would have been a very weird scenario! Anyway, in the move, most of my toys were left behind for my two younger brothers, J and M. Among these many cool and fascinating things was my collection of "dinky cars". And thus begins our story...

The curtain rises on J and M, happily playing with their cars in the alley behind their home. I should point out that the cars they played with were a mix of the ones I left behind and whatever vehicles the two of them already owned. In short, enough to keep them occupied for hours. Also, this particular back alley was the dirt and gravel type that lend themselves so well to the construction of miniature roads, parking lots, and impound yards. And so, the two young boys were making the most of their day cruising around their tiny Automotive Utopia.

As mothers usually do, ours called J and M in as the day drew to a close. Now, since it was the middle of Summer, they just knew they'd be playing outside again the next day, so they couldn't see the logic in packing up all the cars and bringing them in. Why, they'd just have to bring them out again! Talk about inefficient! But how could they be left outside without creating too much of a temptation for the other neighborhood children? It was then that J had a brainstorm... They could bury them!

And so, before Mom could call again and threaten a grounding that would last until the next school year, the boys dutifully consecrated the dinky cars to their temporary graves for the night.
The next day dawned bright and sunny. The boys jumped out of bed, wolfed down their breakfast of generic-brand cornflakes and powdered milk, and set off to resume their play of the day before. However, as they approached the back alley, their hearts sank and they knew they would never see their precious little cars again...

The alley had been paved.

At some point in the morning, before J and M had risen, a City Crew had come and added a new, pristine asphalt hard-top to the previously gravelled back lane! What are the odds?!? Now, the collection of cars, trucks, and various other vehicles would be forever enshrined in their little tombs...

It has been over 20 years since this terrible tragedy occurred, and almost as long since any of our family has lived in that house. Yet, the house still stands, and the alley remains paved. Now, if J would only borrow Dad's metal detector, as he has often vowed to do, and resurrect those treasures of yesterday, maybe he and M could finish what they started... Better late than never!

Picture of the Week: Bird Over Banff

The town of Banff in Banff National Park from high atop Sulphur Mountain. Taken during our visit on Father's Day Weekend.
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Scenes from the Forklift: Supper Hero No More

It has been a sad week in MSA One... The great CK, infamous self-proclaimed Supper Hero, is no longer with us. Alas, as of last Thursday, he has gone on to bigger, better, and (hopefully) less tiring things, leaving myself and Doogie Howser, the Shipper Boy Genius, to hold down the fort for the summer...



Has the Hive Mind we call Management completely flipped their lids?!? We're expected to run a full-time warehouse on only 2 guys? No, I don't see any problem with that plan of action... Do you? I'm sure everything will get done accurately and we'll be the Model of Efficiency. Yeah, right. Of course, we have been promised for the past 6 months that they will be hiring more people as soon as they get some decent resumes. Hello! This is a warehouse folks! A "decent resume" for a job here would be any one that indicates the applicant is still living... Period.



Anyway, I don't really want this post to be a rant about the Company, so I'll just leave it at that. More about me...



The Great Unboxing and Reboxing Escapade has finally come to an end, but not without certain consequences... The Department of Inbound Deliveries (DID) has taken on the look of a scrap yard. There are computers, monitors, and printers from every stage of technology over the last 12 years just piled on skids and strewn about my half of MSA One. Basically, I have about a month and a half worth of product drop-offs from a dozen different locations that I eventually have to sort through, inventory, and make ready for our Production Crew.



Fun.



So, I'm really gonna miss good ol' CK in the coming weeks... Not only for his vast knowledge of music and his domination in Name That Tune... Not just for his He-Man cartoon collection that kept us amused at lunch... And not only for his "let's just get it done" approach to a task. No, I think I'm going to miss him most of all because I just don't want to do all this work by myself! Help!!!



By the way, if you're reading this, and you live in Calgary, and you're looking for a job, drop me an email... Please!

Boys and Their Toys

No matter how old I get, I think I will always love toys.

When I was a kid, I used to collect "dinky cars", the little Matchbox and Hot Wheels brand scale replica cars. Back then, they were made to look just like the cars you saw driving around everyday, with the odd "exotic" one thrown in for flavor. Every time my parents took me to the department store, my Dad would let me pick out a new one for my collection. Then I'd take the new treasure home and put it in the little tin box I kept the rest of them in.

As I got a little older, the cars got left behind in favor of G.I. Joe. These weren't the Barbie-sized ones with the "real" stubbly beard (although I did have one of those at one time too), but the smaller "action figures", complete with Swivel-Arm Battle Grip. I'd spend hours setting up the massive G.I. Joe Head Quarters with it's dual-barrel turret gun, stockade, and computer Command Center. When my Birthday or Christmas rolled around, everyone knew exactly what to get me... More G.I. Joe!

Now that I'm an adult (most of the time), I'd have to say that computers have become my new toy. I don't really play any games on them, but I do enjoy figuring out all the cool things a computer could do, then trying to make it happen. I like to play with my 3 digital cameras and the pictures I get out of them... It's fun to re-mix music and sound-clips... I'm even set up to broadcast my computer's display to any TV in my house and control it with an FM Remote Mouse! Very little of what I do, in fact, is of any use... It's just fun to be able to do it. Hence, the computer is my toy.

Well, my girlfriend played a Trump Card this past weekend when she bought me my new Ultimate Toy for Father's Day: a portable DVD player.

I can't even begin to tell you how cool that thing is! Sure, I've been watching DVD's for years (even burning a few, from time to time), but this is a whole new experience! I feel exactly like I did when I was 13 years old and I got my first Walkman... Well, it wasn't a true Sony Walkman, just a cheap rip-off, but it was huge, silver, and came with the same awesome body-strap that the real thing had. No longer did I have to sit in my Mom's living room with my ear pressed up against the cabinet stereo to hear my Hit Explosion K-Tel record... Never again would I have to hear her telling me to turn it down... I was finally free to enjoy my tunes anywhere, anytime!

Now, 20 years later, I've regained that same freedom with my movies... I doubt you'll find me walking down the street watching Pulp Fiction anytime soon, but now I can watch a show in bed without disturbing my Better Half and road trips with the kids just might be a little quieter.

I could go on and on about it, but I really must get back to The Bourne Identity... For crying out loud! The guy can't remember that he's Matt Damon! Can you believe it?!?

Down, But Not Out

I'm alive... barely.



If you've been checking in at Musings lately, you might be under the impression that I simply couldn't go on after the Flames failed to bring the Stanley Cup back to Calgary with them. I assure you, however, that is not the case... In fact, I got over that pretty fast, all things considered.



If you are a regular reader, though, and have been following the Scenes from the Forklift, you may have figured out that I've been too busy to blog lately. And in this you'd be mostly correct.



To tell you the truth, my disturbing lack of presence can be blamed on sheer fatigue and nothing new to say. The past week and a half has been nothing but the same old song and dance in the warehouse... Too much work, too few people. So, I figured I wouldn't bore you... Ain't I just the greatest?



I can say, however, that there are things stirring in Cuppojoe's life, things which will definitely warrant a blog or two... So, until then, I now return you to your regularly scheduled broadcast already in progress...

Clock Strikes Midnight...

It's over.



The Calgary Flames, the so-called Cinderella Story of the 2004 Stanley Cup Finals, have tried on the glass slipper and it doesn't fit. The heart-stopping series went the full 7 games, but it's the Tampa Bay Lightning who have earned the right to hoist hockey's most coveted prize over their heads.



As with Game 6, the Flames didn't seem able to put forth a consistent effort tonight. Instead, it was the Lightning who dominated most of the play. Calgary seemed to come alive in the dying minutes of the Third Period after a goal by Craig Conroy, but it was too little too late. The final nail in the coffin came with 1:01 left in the game as Andrew Ferrence was assessed a 2-minute penalty for allegedly charging Lightning player Martin St. Louis behind the Flame net. The call was made by none other than (you guessed it) Kerry Fraser. Even though another penalty was called less than a minute later against Tampa, the time for Calgary's come back had passed.



It was such a good ride for Calgary, one of the last teams anyone even expected to be in the Playoffs in the first place, and it was an equally good ride for this city. Even the glory days of the '88 Olympics and our Stanley Cup victory in '89 couldn't compare to the spirit that has had each and every Calgarian walking on air for the past 2 months. The dejected Calgary Flames will come home, probably with their heads hung low, but they will come home to a Hero's Welcome. They deserve nothing less. And I'm sure the Flames flags will fly from the cars for weeks to come, honoring the valiant effort put forth by our little underdog team.



And who knows? Just because the ugly step-sister came out ahead this time, doesn't mean Cinderella won't be invited to the ball next year...

Picture of the Week: Urban Web

Classic example of art imitating life...
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Close, But No Stanley

The Calgary Flames lost. They could have been handed the coveted Stanley Cup tonight in their home arena... but they lost. The city could have gone crazy with celebration... but they lost. I could have written a happy blog... but they lost.



I'm not going to get into the game this time. I just don't think I have it in me. This whole city was holding their breath, waiting for the Big Moment to arrive, but it never did. Now, we all just feel deflated.



However, it's not over yet... This crushing loss was only Game 6. Monday night will tell the final tale of the 2004 Stanley Cup Finals. The Flames are undoubtedly already on their way back to Florida to prepare for the winner-takes-all Game 7. I just hope they can do it...



Until then...

Scenes from the Forklift: I, Daredevil

Some people call it a pallet jack. Others call it a pallet-puller or a skid jack. I like to think of it as transportation.

I have to admit, I've become quite the Pallet Jack Pilot in my time. Like a kid on a scooter, I can zip from one end of the warehouse to the next... I can maneuver deftly between the piles of product left carelessly about the floor... I can even slalom the warehouse work-horse indefinitely without having to touch the ground! Yes, it has become almost second nature.

Until today.

I was cruising from the Department of Outbound Deliveries toward the Department of Inbound Deliveries, where CK (self-proclaimed "Supper Hero" of MSA One) and I were working for the day. As I was about to round the final corner, I noticed the way was bottle-necked with the forklift parked dangerously close to a skid of dead monitors. A less experienced Jack Jockey would have shied away from this tight avenue of approach, but not me. No, sir. I could see that I would easily have a few millimeters of breathing room on either side. Full-steam ahead!

I powered straight toward the forklift, knowing that only a last-second turn would put me past the obstacle. A mere heartbeat before slamming into the massive piece of machinery, I jerked the handle of my pallet jack violently to the right, swinging straight into the channel.

Well, I thought it was straight...

In hindsight, it looks like I missed my turn by a few degrees. As the front of my mechanical chariot cleared the side of the forklift, two things happened. First, I found myself heading directly toward CK, who had heard me coming and was watching my approach. The second (and more important) occurrence was the jamming of the jack between the front wheel of the forklift and the skid of dead monitors.

Sudden stop... for the pallet jack.

Newton's First Law of Motion states that a body at rest will tend to stay at rest, and a body in motion will tend to stay in motion. Well, my body was certainly in motion! Before my brain could comprehend what was happening, I was thrown smack-dab into the middle of a lesson in inertia.

Now, the handle of the jack stands about 3 1/2 to 4 feet off the ground, and it was this part that I was hanging onto (in front of me) at the moment of impact. As my body continued in a straight lined toward the stunned Supper Hero, this handle gave way before me by levering downward, such as it does when one uses it to jack up a pallet. At this point, I had a choice to make:

A. Let go of the handle and have it spring back towards me with great force, quite likely whacking me in a tender region as I flew over, or,

B. Continue hanging on and be reverse catapulted into the concrete floor, much like Wile E. Coyote.

Neither seemed to be a very attractive option at the time, and I had precious little time to choose.

In the end, I compromised. I held on as long as I could... Then, like a player in some sadistic, nutcracker version of leap-frog, I spread my legs, pushed the handle down and away from me, and landed clumsily at the exact moment the handle slammed back to it's upright position.

The racket drew a small crowd, not to mention a little blood to my cheeks, but I was none the worse for wear. In fact, instead of making me fear such dangerous antics, I think this incident may have opened my eyes to the possibility of a whole new career: Warehouse Stunt Man. Why not? They make movies with warehouses in them... And I could do the stunts for all the big name actors! Okay, so I probably won't be filling in for Stallone or Governor Schwarzenegger anytime soon, but I don't think Frankie Muniz or maybe the girl from "Spy Kids" is out of the question... Do you?

The Artist Within

When I was a kid I loved to draw. I would draw just about anything, just for the sheer joy of dragging my pencil across the paper and seeing something come to life. It could be Donald Duck, taken from one of my many storybooks, or perhaps E.T., from his appearance on the cover of People magazine. It just didn't matter, as long as I was able to create.



As I moved into my teenage years, dragons and sorcerers became a common theme in my sketch books, not to mention snakes, bugs, and knights in shining armor. I was a typical boy, living in a fantastic world as it formed before my very eyes. Still, it was more about the drawing than the drawings themselves... The evidence being the odd seashell or potted plant in my work.



Eventually, I became an adult (contrary to what some people may tell you) and the time I could devote to my drawing diminished. I still felt that inexplicable drive to "make something", but I could rarely finish anything before other duties called me away. And to make matters worse, on the occasions when I did have the time, I couldn't seem to call forth the talent and would become angry and frustrated. The satisfaction that I had once felt now seemed to be just around the corner but ever-elusive.



Since then, I have dabbled in this and that... I've done a fair amount of cartooning (though I look upon this as mere "doodling" in comparison to my earlier work), I've tried my hand at acting and playwriting (with moderate success), and I've had a book brewing around in my brain for about 7 years now. More recently, I've taken a growing interest in digital photography and digital editing. All in all, the creative force still exists in me, and it is continually trying to find a way to express itself.



And then came blogging.



I can't begin to explain how good I have felt since I started this silly little page! I can sit here for 20 minutes every few days, throw out a few random ideas or hot-headed rants, and I feel fulfilled! It's amazing! It's exactly like when I was a kid and I'd brush away the last few eraser bits from my paper, stand up, and look down at the picture that came from my hand. It's like this overwhelming sense of accomplishment, regardless of whether anybody else ever sees it or not.



So, forgive me if there's an occasional post that seems lame or pointless (like this one, perhaps). I truly enjoy providing entertainment for others but, in the end, it's all about me...



Hey! My Mom was right after all!