Archive for February, 2009

Saturday, February 28th, 2009

Big decision time. It’s almost spring. Spring is a chancy time.  So the decision I’ve got to make is should I take a chance and put the snow shovel away, or should I play it safe and just leave it outside my front door…just in case. It looked a little out of place during a couple of nice warm days we’ve had lately. It belongs in the shed over at the other end of the yard. But the problem is…it could snow again…and you need to shovel the snow off the porch, if you want to get to the shed. So it seems safer to just leave it there a while longer.

The Christmas lights are still up out front too. I guess I should take them down this weekend. But there’s something kind of comforting about Christmas lights. We keep the red and green ones on the back deck all year long. I don’t know why, but in the back of my head…red and green Christmas lights in August make a deck look like a bar. And I don’t know why I like that…because I’m not a big bar guy.

Maybe it’s because of what Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie generation claims. He says, “red lights are a Louie-Louie Generation Guy’s wrinkle erasers.” And I’ve found out that’s true. Red lights zap your wrinkles. Good things can happen as long as you have some red lights in strategic places…like on your back deck on an August night…or in your bathroom when you have a nice big…still warm out of the drier bath towel that’s big enough for two…and someone to share it with…or best of all…in your bedroom any night…assuming you still have some moveable parts.

Louie-Louie Generation people are often mis-understood. Our  main concern is not…as many of the Pimple People seem to think… running out of poly grip at a bagel eating contest. Our vital juices have not all turned to prune. In fact, we look forward with great enthusiasm to a disorderly, vigorous, and slightly disreputable aging process. We are no longer young enough to know everything. But we are old enough to know…a thing or two. 

And one thing we know is that Spring is a chancy time. Big Louie… his own bad self…is generally in favor of taking some chances. He says, “The only pitch you’ll be sure you won’t hit, is one you don’t swing at.” Of course…sometimes you can get hit by a pitch…especially when the spring weather turns bad. That’s what happened to the pilot in this story called…”Just Enough” It’s from the Personal Audio CD called Night Connections 2. And it’s in the current podcast at  

The woman in the story sounds like a good lady. Maybe it’s better the way it turned out. No memories of fights…or dirty laundry…or the kind of hurts only kids can give you. All her life…there will be just that one magic night…when the both of them were young.

Dick’s Details Quiz…all the answers are in the current podcast at

1- Why to some people think you should take a pine cone to dinner and a show ?

2- What’s the social price to pay for having a slim waist ?

3- Where did we get the idea of listening to a blue tooth ?

Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

And it’s about time we got our minds off our minds…at least for a little while.  Nobody is smiling these days. Not even the people who live in your tv.  And there’s reason for that of course. But enough is enough.

The calendar says spring’s coming. That means we’re going to get another shot. Baseball has begun. My Lady Wonder Wench and I will go to see the Mets spring training down in Port St. Lucie in a few weeks. We’ve got seats right behind home plate. A friend let me fly his open cockpit Stearman biplane for a few minutes…white silk scarf, goggles and all.

Hey…there’s good stuff out there…like the look my buddy Al’s dog Jake gives you when he realizes that you may be just faking it when you pretend to throw the ball for him. He just comes over and offers you a paw, and tries to lick your face. 

There’s good stuff out there…if you just look for it. Proud podcast participant Steve Crowley sent me a note that says: “Although the tree outside my apartment is still as bare as it was when we had a rare Vegas Valley snowstorm the week before Christmas, the community of sparrows that perch there through most of the year returned Monday. I counted 19 on the branches… with two cats eyeing the situation from 35 feet below, conceding the pounce distance to getaway time ratio wasn’t in their favor. Not Spring yet, but close.”

There’s good stuff out there. But we’ve got to start looking for it or we’ll miss it. And what a terrible waste that would be. The calendar says Spring is coming. Here comes the sun. In no time you’ll walk past a lake and hear water slopping along the bottom of a row boat…seeds will be sprouting…eggs will be hatching…there will be new baby horses…and the ladies will swap their winter coats for sweaters.

Spring doesn’t really come when you get to a particular number on a calendar. Spring comes when you take a chance, and let yourself feel like it’s Spring. Times are tough. And spring is always chancy. But Big Louie his own bad self has always been in favor of swinging at pitches instead of just watching them go past and hoping for the best.

So…it’s decision time. I’m going to toss that snow shovel into the shed tomorrow.

Because Spring is always chancy. But if it snows again…and the weather guys say it certainly will… hey …I’ve got some old wood to burn, some old wine to drink, and some old friends to drink it with, I’ve also got my Lady Wonder Wench…and some strategically placed red lights…and I even have a few moveable parts left.

Tuesday, February 24th, 2009

Dickie’s Quickie – February 24, 2009

Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generation says, “You never know when something wonderful is going to spoil a perfectly gloomy day.” So many people are walking around with such long faces that we’re in danger of a big increase in in “trip and fall accidents” due to stepping on lower lips. So I wanted you to see a note that came in from a genuine Louie-Louie Generation guy by the name of Steve:

Valentine’s Day was a challenge for a kind of chunky, balding guy with absolutely no attributes that would vaguely suggest financial security, with partial paralysis on one side, and not that great command on the other. I can’t dance without falling over, I can’t walk along the beach because of the sand, and I don’t always keep the leash tight enough on the Mr. Cranky inside who doesn’t want to treat anyone like a queen because he’s convinced that any sane woman should have abandoned that kind of fantasy about the time she stopped wearing princess costumes for Halloween. So this Valentine’s Day I went to the movies alone. I wanted to see the least romantic thing out there. I settled on “The International.” Then I bought a bag of popcorn from a young woman at the counter. I noticed her name tag said, “Precious.” I told her I loved the name, and told her her mother must have been so glad to have her. She beamed back at me and said, “yeah…her precious baby girl.” I told her I wshed everyone in her life would recognize that she was a gift. She choked up a bit and asked if I wanted butter. Then I choked up too , because I realized my non-romantic resolve hadn’t lasted long enough to clear the lobby.

Thanks Steve. Here’s another quote from Big Louie…his own bad self, “If you want a good laugh…cry. Cry long and hard…then cry a little more…pretty soon you’ll bust your belly laughing.”

Saturday, February 21st, 2009

I was enjoying dinner with my Lady Wonder Wench this evening, when I had a sudden and painful attack of auto cannibalism. For those of you who are not medical experts, auto cannibalism has nothing to do with eating your car. And since it’s a condition that happens almost exclusively to Louie-Louie Generation guys, Big Louie, his own bad self…the chief mustard cutter of the Louie-Louie Generation would want me to tell you about it right away.

Auto cannibalism is the condition that makes you BITE YOUR OWN TONGUE.

Why do we do that ? I have a theory. Don’t blame it on our eye teeth…that would be funny but inaccurate. We frequently strive for in-accuracy here…but not this time. As you very well know, our eye teeth can’t actually see anything.

But that does bring up the question of the practice of putting a blue tooth in your ear so you can hear phone conversations. That’s a really weird picture.

But back to Auto Cannibalism…I think it happens to us because guys tongues get fat…and women’s don’t. And it happens mostly to Louie-Louie Generation guys…because we have allowed many parts of our bodies to get fat. Especially parts that have to do with our heads.

For those of you who are not Louie-Louie Generation guys, and therefore don’t have this problem…let me explain what it’s like when auto cannibalism strikes…all of a sudden, your fingers stiffen and then in one powerful spasm…they fold backwards… almost all the way back so your nails touch your knuckles…you grind very naughty words between your clenched teeth, and your eyes bulge out like they did when you realized you left your wallet with your credit cards, your pay check and all your personal ids back at the supermarket checkout…and the supermarket is a very, very, very, very long way back in your rear view mirror.


There is no pain that compares with auto cannibalism. As I said, it’s a condition that almost exclusively attacks Louie-Louie Generation guys. I’m glad women don’t usually suffer from auto cannibalism…but if they did…they would no longer complain about the relatively insignificant pain of childbirth. The only comparable pain known to doctors, is the pain which is also experienced only by guys…and that is the pain that comes from putting your arm around the back of your wife or girlfriend’s chair at the movies, and leaving it there for two and a half hours. And then she likes the movie so much she wants to stay and watch all the closing credits. Best boy…the grip…the whole thing.

I don’t know why we do it. I didn’t use to do it. I think perhaps as years go by, guys tongues grows larger…like our ears. Think about that. Feel your own tongue. Wash your hand first of course…or just wiggle it around in your mouth. Doesn’t it feel huge in there ? Did it ever feel that big before ? Go look in a mirror and stick your tongue out. It’s huge. And the more you think about it…the bigger it gets.

My Lady Wonder Wench has a theory about the reason a Louie-Louie Generation guy’s tongue grows kind of fat. She says it’s simply… because we don’t exercise our tongues by having long conversations about relationships with those with whom we share a romance. Lady Wonder Wench is very smart, so I think there may be some merit to that idea. But then isn’t the opposite also true ? Doesn’t it make sense that ladies tongues grow slim, shapely and muscular because they have the benefit of years of heavy duty non stop aerobic exercise. Whatever theory you buy…the result is obvious…and I guess we have to simply put it down as one more example of the differences between men and women.

Of course, some guys exercise their tongues a little too much. And that sucks too. There’s a story about that in the Bedtime Stories personal audio cd. It’s called, “Mr. Small Talk.” It’s in the current podcast  at  . Writing that story made me realize that women may have some problems controlling what their bodies do too. But I don’t know that they are. I’ve been trying to learn more about that for years.

“Mr. Small Talk” is from the Bedtime Stories personal audio cd. If you like it you can just keep this week’s podcast…or if you want a fresh copy, just download it from the Bedtime Stories icon on this website’s opening page.

I really do think that women in general have much more control over their bodies than we do. I’ve told you about my runaway eyebrows. When my Lady Wonder Wench walks into the room wearing something she calls…”a little more comfortable” …or she comes over and just smiles that slow smile and gives me a long, lovely kiss…my eyebrows twitch…and I can’t help it. Just thinking about it right now and I’m creating a small breeze up there on my forehead…and my ears are beginning to wiggle. I will leave for your own consideration a list of other body parts over which men have very little control. No wonder why we’re always trying to figure out what part of us is going to wear out first.

Dick’s Details Quiz. (All answers are in the current podcast at


1- Why do the guys in the white coats bang our heads against a wall ?
2- What problem does an ostrich share with my 340 pound buddy Geoff?
3- What’s the difference between your aunt and an ant ?

Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

Speaking of taking your mind off your mind…every place you look… everybody you talk to…you find lots of hurting and problems going on right now. Lots of people are getting scared…and lots of people are getting mad. My buddy Al is taking it personally, and he’s planning on getting even. I told him what Big Louie…his own bad self said about getting even. He said…”If you spend all your time trying to get even, you’ll never get ahead.”

Everybody knows that there’s lots of big bad news.

But there’s also lots of little good news. Like some stuff that happened this week. I got a road map folded back exactly the same way I found it. My Lady Wonder Wench put a bouquet of fresh tulips on our dinner table, and we lit two tall slim candles to go with them. She was exercising her hurt hand  with a hand full of silly putty…so we had a little game of catch with it. I made a paper airplane that had a graceful flight from the kitchen all the way to the living room wall. I found the name Robert Marshall written in old fashioned handwriting and faded ink, on the inside cover of an old book in a second hand book store… and I was wondering who he was. The wind the other day blew the tarp off my snow blower. My neighbor Randy found it in his yard, and he came over last night, and put it back on. And my brother John, his Lady Beth and our son Mark came over to visit…and we told terrible knock knock jokes, and puns…late into the night. And we laughed till we started to cry…and then we started to laugh again.

Lots of little good news stuff. The kind of stuff that can almost make  up for all the pain of the big bad stuff…except for the pain caused by auto cannibalism. Ooo that hurts.


Friday, February 20th, 2009

Dickie’s – Quickie

Capital-ism is a system. So is Social-ism. American-ism is something much more important.

No system is perfect. Capitalism’s fatal flaw is greed. Socialism’s is loss of dignity. I don’t care if Capital-ism fails. And Social-ism failed a long time ago. That’s ok because they’re only systems…tools for people to use when they trade with each other. But American-ism is what’s on the line now. American-ism isn’t just a system. It’s our way of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

“E pluribus unum” is on our money. But it’s not in our hearts right now. “From many…one.” But too many of us aren’t willing to listen to what the rest of us are saying…so we can honestly work together to re-create “a more perfect union.”“United we stand” is our motto. But too many of us are turning our backs on the rest of us because we disagree with each other about Capitalism versus Socialism.

We’ve got to stand together folks…face to face…nose to nose…toe to toe if necessary…but with respect…and a determination to work out our differences.If we don’t…if we just turn away from eachother…because we insist on Capitalism instead of Socialism…or the other way around…the only ism that counts…the only ism that isn’t just a system…Americanism…is all over.  

Saturday, February 14th, 2009

The Dick Summer Connection – February 15, 2009 

When I first tell you about the phone call that eventually brought us face to face, you may wonder why I don’t hate the guy who was sitting across the dinner table from me tonight. He’s a nice looking young guy. Young enough so the girls would still call him a hunk. And just old enough to be a member of the Louie-Louie Generation. He looks a bit like Anderson Cooper… the news guy. His name is Walter. He keeps himself in top physical shape for cross country bike races.  And the careful way he cuts his steak…thin slices…using his knife like a surgeon…makes it pretty clear that he’s one of those very precise people…you know…a place for everything and everything in its place.

It was my Lady Wonder Wench’s friend Martha who made the call that terrible…beautiful, warm, early summer day. Her voice was shaking on the phone. She just said come quickly. Something terrible just happened. She told me that she was watching a man kissing a woman lying in the grass…a woman who didn’t make the slightest move to resist when he unbuttoned her blouse. And she said…that woman was my Lady Wonder Wench. I was stunned.

Lady Wonder Wench and I have been together for a very long time. We’ve laughed and cried together…brought up kids…cared for each other when we got sick…made love in a quiet forest…made moonlight Christmas eve flights together in our little airplane…she kissed my dad just moments before he died…and she was my mom’s best friend.

We met at a radio station in Boston. She was in charge of scheduling the commercials. I was on the air. I used to screw up the schedule on purpose, because I knew that then she’d have to come into the studio to fix the log and straighten things out. She’d come in and sit by the control board…take a deep sigh, and look down at the book to fix the schedule. I caught her sparkling blue eyes looking at me once through that curtain of her soft, dark hair…and I’m pretty sure I heard a very quiet giggle.   

She was a ski-er. She had the kind of figure that upsets the testosterone balance of 95% of the male residents for at least three surrounding zip codes. She had an easy smile, a dancer’s walk, and a voice that sounded like syrup poring on pancakes.

The day we met, I think I said something clever…like Hello. And I honestly don’t remember saying anything else…because when she turned around to look at me…my eyes, and my voice, and everything I could think of saying next just…fell into her soft.

She did…lovely things. She sometimes wore ribbons in her hair. And once, she bobby pinned a dandelion just above her left ear. I never knew if she was wearing perfume, or if she had just come from a shower. She always carried a lump of sugar on the chance that she might pass a cop on a horse. Every once in a while, she’d stop walking…to watch the changing shape and color of a cloud at sunset.

She became my friend. Sometimes I think she was my only friend. And then one night…well, there’s a story about what happened that night in the Bedtime Stories personal audio cd. It’s called Nothing Happened. It’s also in the current podcast at

I think it’s really strange…how your whole life can…explode… because of something so small…a look that lasts a moment longer than it should…a shoulder that lifts a little when she laughs…

Dick’s Details Quiz – all the answers are in the current podcast at

1- Why are your neighbors going to think you are weird this year ?
2- Why does the AMA think we should have an American Fart Association ?
3- What is it about your boyfriend/girlfriend that your nose knows ?

Dick’s details…they take your mind off your mind.

Ok, here’s why I don’t hate Walter…the guy who was sitting across the table from me at dinner tonight…the guy who was kissing my Lady Wonder Wench…and unbuttoning her blouse in that beautiful grassy field last summer.  It took me seven months to find him…to take him to dinner tonight.

His full name is Walter Adamek. Doctor…Walter Adamek. He happened to be riding his bike past the field where my Lady was thrown from her horse…and fell unconscious to the ground. The kiss he gave her was the kiss of life… mouth to mouth resuscitation. He unbuttoned her blouse to pound on her chest…to start her heart beating again. He knew her neck was broken…so he stayed with her to see that nobody moved her until an ambulance took her to the hospital…then he just got on his bike…and rode away.

I took him to dinner tonight…and I’m going to take him for a little sight seeing ride in my airplane… to thank him…in some small way…for saving the life of the lady with the sparkling blue eyes…who can now…after months of hard, and often painful work…lift her shoulder when she laughs again….the girl who wore the flower in her long shining dark hair…my looker at sunset clouds…by best friend.. my wife… my Lady Wonder Wench.  

He noticed…and I knew he would…that when she laughs now…she’s able to lift her left shoulder to her ear…again.


Dick Summer Connection – 2-8-09

Sunday, February 8th, 2009

I like Valentine’s Day. You get to tell somebody “I love you.”… it happens at the beginning of baseball’s Spring Training… and it’s not very expensive.

There’s a history to Valentine’s Day. Seems there was a priest named Valentinus who lost his head courtesy of Claudius the Cruel on February 14 in the year 269 A.D. Supposedly Father V. healed his jailer’s blind daughter, fell in love with her, and left a note for her in his cell the night before his execution, saying, “I love you…from your Valentine.”

Holy people’s involvement with romance continues to this day. “Christian” web sites now sell Valentine’s Day cards from GOD! Seems to me that’s unfair competition for a mortal Louie-Louie Generation guy.
There’s now a competing “Day.” It’s called “Singles Awareness Day,” SAD for short. So “Happy S.A.D. Day” for people who don’t get a Valentine’s Day kiss…or at least a card.

But I must confess, I think S.A.D. is sad. Men and women belong together. There are some exceptions, of course, and God bless them too. Let’s just say lovers belong together.

Here’s my problem. I took a Valentine’s Day Poll. And the results were a real shocker to me. More than 90 percent of the people I asked…of both sexes…just kinda blew Cupid off…and I don’t mean that as a pun. “Oh…was that Valentine’s Day?” was by far the most common answer. What a shame.

That little guy’s arrows can be weapons of mass destruction. You’ve got to have guts to stand up to Cupid’s arrows. You sure can get hurt. Something very powerful inside you has to say…”he/she is worth taking this very big risk.”

You’ve got to be ready to blow up your life for somebody. That’s the difference between a relationship and a romance. A relationship develops.  A romance explodes. Businesses have relationships. Lovers have romances.
I think in everybody’s life, there is…or was…or will be…some…”Wild Thing who makes your heart sing”…as the Troggs used to say.

Sometimes there’s only one “Wild Thing” lover in what’s left of a romance. That hurts. But sometimes…there’s still powerful magic in the memories.

But…according to my poll…an awful lot of people…even ones in “good relationships”… have “Lost That Lovin’ Feeling”…that “Wild Thing” song inside. That’s a big loss. A terrible quiet. A deadly power failure.
Speaking of old songs, one of my favorites is called “My Funny Valentine.” Appropriately, the lyric was written by a guy named Lorenz Hart. Mr. Hart had a pretty good understanding of the fact that love can be an exploding cigar… but it lights up our lives anyway. He says, “My funny Valentine, sweet comic valentine, you make me smile with my heart.”

Know why some guys try to be a funny Valentine ? Two reasons: 1- It gives you bragging rights if you can be funnier than the other guy. 2- Laughs turn a girl on. Robin Williams could have so much sex he would be seriously injured by the friction. It figures. Sex is a funny looking thing. Laughs make things sexy. Which is exactly why Sister Mary Attila’s sternest command at St. Gregory’s all those years ago was…”NO LAUGHING.” She was Brooklyn’s first line of defense against sex.

“Your looks are laughable, un-photographical, yet you’re my favorite work of art,” says Mr. Heart’s song.
Somebody once said that “If a woman lets a man look directly into her eyes for two whole minutes, she’ll be in his bed in an hour.” Eyes can be very sexy. My Lady Wonder Wench sometimes gives me a look that you could pour on a waffle. That shouldn’t be a surprise, because “erogenous zones” are either everywhere or they’re nowhere. And never forget the power of aural sex. Aural…words. (I’m told the other kind is good, too.) That’s not to say there isn’t a wee beastie about sex. If smarts, laughs and charm were all that’s going on between men and women, every guy in town would be chasing Barbara Walters.

 “Is your figure less than Greek, is your mouth a little weak, when you open it to speak, are you smart ?”…the song asks. I always liked smart girls. Except for Jeannie Campbell. I didn’t know if she was smart or not, and I really didn’t care. She was 5 and I was 6. She was struggling to learn which way the hat goes on the number 7. I knew that, but at that time I had no idea why it was so nice teaching her. I found out later, when I took her to my first high school dance. What a difference ten years made. I often wonder what ever happened to Jeannie. The way the Internet goes, maybe she’s reading this right now. Hey, Jeannie, drop a note to . It would be fun to see you again. Neither one of us understood…but you were my first love.

I just heard about a guy’s last love. It grabbed me by the throat.  I’m shaky on the details, because it went by so fast that I didn’t have time to take notes. It was on the BBC channel… and it was about a guy in Africa….it might have been Darfur. It seems a bunch of bad guys attacked a village and killed everybody there…except for one man. This guy had run off and made a successful escape…but his wife tripped and fell while they were running away…and she was killed…and he went back…he couldn’t leave her.  That confused the bad guys so much that they spared him. They figured he must be some kind of holy man. They couldn’t believe it. He had it made. They had no idea why he’d go back to face his own certain death. They couldn’t understand that he just loved her…he wanted to hold her in his arms just one last time…he needed to cry more than he needed to live…he simply didn’t care about living without her. Come to think about it, maybe that’s the most important part of what “holy” is all about

Dick’s Details Quiz – All the answers are in the current podcast on the website. ( )

1- What’s the fastest way to catch a warm ?
2- Why do some Americans have very large mouths ?
3- How come some of us are called Fat Heads ?

3 right – Two dozen Valentine’s Day roses.
2 right – A big Valentine’s day box of candy.
1 right- One grungy looking jelly bean.
0 right – Tickets to a Julio Iglesias concert.

I’m looking at my Lady Wonder Wench…sitting on the couch across from me now…doing her needlepoint…concentrating so hard, she’s sticking her tongue out, and blowing her hair out of her eyes…and I understand why I’ve always liked Valentine’s day. It’s in the last line of Mr. Heart’s song.“Don’t change a hair for me, not if you care for me. You make each day my Valentine’s day.”

Thursday, February 5th, 2009

Dickie Quickie:

I think we are about to get lubricated again. There is so much oil available right now that some oil companies have their tankers maintaining holding patterns off shore, because they don’t want oil off loaded at low prices. Meantime…every day… the gas station across the street raises prices by two cents. Any body want to bet on a return to four dollar a gallon gas by summer ? How about calling your congressperson and complaining ?

Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009


 This is the anniversary of the plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and J.P Richardson. It has been called, “The Day The Music Died.” It was a tragedy. But the music will never die.