Knighthart Press

Kilt Boy!

2011-10-22T17:33:00.000-07:00

So there's this guy at work, we call him Kilt Boy!

If you haven't figured it out, his nickname is because he wears kilts to work, complete with sporrans to boot. Some furry, some leather. Now the crazy thing is, he's not Scottish nor Irish. (that I can tell) He aint got an arcent or says aye or talks aboot things. The best thing I can tell he's a LARPer or some Ren Fair fanatic.

I've met the type before. This is the guy that sits in his mother's basement and goes on six hour raids via the Internet and drinks Red Bull followed by Mountain Dew Game Fuel. He reads every fantasy novel the moment they hit the bookstore shelves. He's not reading them for fun but checking them for historical accuracy. He criticizes the author's use of a halberd vs a claymore. Chastises the choice of goblin over a kobold. He only drinks from pewter goblets and munches on greasy turkey legs.

Not sure how he gets away with wearing kilts to the office. Perhaps he threatened religious or cultural discrimination. Or maybe he gets off on wearing skirts? What scares me is: if he wears them true Scottish style. Y'know, commando joe-- only a thin piece of polyester between us and his fun gun. He wears those little moccassin boots and Jesus sandals (in the summer). His hair is long and pulled into a pony tail. Not sure who's weirder him or 80s Dude (this guy that still wears cotton pants and topsiders).

The guy intrigues me only because he has the balls to be different. I've tried to bribe some young ladies in the office to talk to him and get his story. They've refused. Maybe I need to offer more than $20 bucks. One day I'll be stuck in the elevator with him and I'll be forced to get the tale. Until then, we'll keep callin him Kilt Boy!

Can a 40 Year Old Party like a 20 Something?

2011-10-16T17:42:00.000-07:00

Do you know what happens when four high school friends get back together for a weekend of reminiscing?

At least one night of excessive alcohol consumption and at least one morning regretting the night before.

But it was worth it!

So, I drove down to Red River, New Mexico, the first time I've been in New Mexico in ten years, on a cold Saturday morning. There, I met three high school friends, two that I've not seen in those ten years and one that it's been twenty. Arriving there in a power outage, I met the guys at the Bull O' the Wild Saloon. We hugged liked bros and immediately picked up like there was no ten year gap, or twenty. Just then the power retuned to the little town. Steve drove us to his cabin, only to find that no power still plagued it. One really begins to miss electricity when it controls the water in a cabin and it means no toilets. Three beers each (plus the one from the bar) later, and a guy's gotta pee. Let's just say that four guys bonded that night by peeing off the balcony. And no, we didn't cross the streams.

The power returned to the cabin, to which four guys high five'd and yelled like they just scored but fifteen minutes later, it's off again. Then, ten minutes passed, it comes back on again. We again cheered. But the victory was bitter short. Less than five minutes, the power was lost again. The power company was teasing us like a cheap hooker- and she gave us blue balls. So, we stoked the fire and broke out the camping lanterns. We sat, in the dark, with no power and told stories about the last decade.

As midnight rolled around, the power returned for good. Now that water was restored, we hit the head and all showered—together. (GAG, Yuck, no way! Just checking to see if you’re still reading along. Okay back to the story…) We headed to our rooms. Yet, another hour passed as we chatted, standing in our doors like college students. Guys acted like guys; guys talked like guys. We offended the tender hearted; we offended the easily offended. Oh, and that we did. One of us even farted with pride and without prejudice.

Waking early Sunday, we headed into town. Our mission was to find food. We found it at a place called Shotgun Willies (in Denver this is a titty bar). We sat there eating French toast and Willie specials (sounds perverted if you think about its Denver cousin). While we drank coffee and orange juice, we talked about a project that brought us together that weekend--a collaboration of friends writing a incredible story.

We waited in town for the tiny market, which had a fondness to give change in $2 bills, to allow alcohol sales. (noon on a Sunday) I bought a sixer of Fat Tire. With booze in plastic bags, we drove back to the cabin. I say cabin, but it was nothing of the kind. This thing could sleep about 47. Second floor had an Arcade—complete with a Dragon’s Layer machine and pinball. But before the party could start we worked on our project and character building.

That afternoon, Steve, worked his magic on smoking some ribs. The best freaking ribs I’ve had in a long while. We watched movies, listened to music and drank our beer. The afternoon turned to early evening and with the work out of the way. The party began.

I’m not sure where it got out of control. And when I say out of control, I mean out of control for a bunch of nearly 40 year olds. Oh I remember— it’s called hard alcohol. Shots of Crown Royal. Mixed Captain Morgan Lime into Dr. Pepper. That was our first mistake. Mixed the boozes. What do we think we are? Twentysomethings. We wanted to play poker. Steve had instructed us he was going to take all our money. We almost played strip poker just for the shock and awe it would have caused the two females staying in the cabin. We didn’t. Yet, music and drink kept us distracted. Not sure if I should admit it but we danced. We danced like crazy teenagers. I’m surprised we didn’t throw out a hip or blow out some knees.

Just like teenagers, we invited girls over to the cabin. We could hear them across the river so we yelled for them to come over. Then my disclaimer statement, “only if you’re 18 or older.” Their response was, “we’re legal!” In our minds, they were going to be hot blond Texas A&M girls or perhaps the girls that were in town during the Oktoberfest wearing the little German lederhosen. They said they’d be over in half an hour. Try like an hour and a half. When they showed up, I was pretty blitzed and the booze goggles were kinda foggy. I couldn’t tell if they were calendar girls or Russian weightlifters. I looked to Shawn, no let’s call him Ray (to protect his identity), Ray gave me the head shake of “negative, Ghost Rider. The pattern is full!” They went to get a “friend” and be “right back” but we turned off the lights and prayed they couldn’t find their way back.

The night drifted into blurriness and Steve hit the Netflix to play Weird Science. Even tanked, we all ran the lines word for word. Then about half way through, Ray puked in the sink. Alright! It wasn’t Ray. It was me. It was me okay!! You happy. I’m not no young college frat boy. But, the bright side, it made the next day much more bearable. Then, I only remember cleaning it up and going to bed.

8AM and coffee . Watched Regis and Kelly. Forced a waffle down. Drank some water. We said our goodbyes and took some photos. Steve drove us to our cars and the weekend was over. I drove home. Only pulled off the side of the road to wiz once. The weather was beautiful. I’ve talked to these guys a few times since. The plan is to meet down there again. To Ski. Next time, I’ll skip the booze and remember I'm too old for that shit....

Superman wore his on the outside!

2011-09-03T06:04:00.000-07:00

Unless you were Amish, every kid of the 1980s owned a pair of Underroos. I distinctly remember owning several pairs. And I’m pretty sure every boy and girl at one time owned at least one pair. Even if they will never admit it.

I leapt and swung off the couch in my Spider-mans. I jumped over my bed in the Superman ‘roos. And I may have even stalked the darkness in Batman undies. Although I was roaming and playing in the apartment in my underwear, I felt like those superheroes. It was the closest thing we had to role play costumes. And you could buy them year-round. Halloween had some good costumes. But they were just plastic crap. The little rubber bands on the masks broke within minutes and the jumpsuits always tore.

I remember they advertised them during Saturday Morning Cartoons. During the Muppet Show. I recently saw one and the pre-teen girl is running around in Wonder Woman panties and tank top. Her friend joins her while sporting the Supergirl version-with sports bra and all. Then a boy arrives to show off his Incredible Hulk ‘roos. It was like porn for 10 year olds. Where else would a a couple boys and girls hang out in the underpants. One could say it was kinda creepy to watch little boys and girls so happy to be running around in their underwear.

I wonder why they don’t show these commercials anymore. Some would say that it would only give creepy old men perverted ideas when the little pre-pubescent girls and boys are running around in their skivvies. Yet, why should it be any different today. I see half a dozen boner medication commercials a day. Try explaining one of those to your 11 yr old daughter as we watch Ninja Warriors.

What are you F’ing thinking George?

2011-09-02T18:27:00.000-07:00

I want to believe that some of your “new” tweaks to the Original Trilogy were the brain child of some hippy ILMer who wanted to kiss your ass. But if you personally sat down and decided these changes on your own, then shame on you.

With the news breaking on all the fan sites and social networks that you added [SPOILER] additional dialog to Vader as he tosses the Emperor down the shaft is not only idiotic but destroys the power of the scene. Sorry George, but I think you have lost your creative genius. You’re too worried that a 5 year old won’t understand your films. Sorry these films aren’t for them! That’s the Clone Wars!

The Star Wars fans wanted these timeless movies on Blu-ray. We never asked for you to continue to alter them or flat out ruining them with fucking ridiculous lines like, “NOOOOOOOOO!”. In case you forgot, it was the generation of the late 1970s and early 1980s that loved these movies and made your trillion dollar empire. The Original Trilogy should be left alone outside small technical upgrades. Rearranging and adding dialog actually destroys the original artistic power of both the characters and story.

Want to know why that scene at the end of Return of the Jedi is so moving and so incredible? It was that we could actually see the emotion in Vader’s mask. We can’t even seen any human features. Instead we get a piece of metal and plastic. Yet, through the magic of filmmaking we see the sorrow, torment, remorse and compassion that Darth Vader , now turned back to Anakin Skywalker, is feeling as the Emperor tortures his son. When he makes that silent commitment to grab his former master and destroy him, he finalizes his redemption. A redemption that needs no verbal acknowledgement. It simply works off the muscial cues. Way to fuck it up, George!

I do not want to present myself as one of those purists as I do believe continued improvements can enhance the magic of a movie and these films. Yet when the changes involve alterations to the motives of the characters (Han not shooting first) or the core story elements (Jabba in New Hope), I find it not only annoying but destructive to the original magic you created over 30 years ago.

This makes the fourth time a change to these movies has brought me to Sith-like anger! First it was Greedo shooting first (WTF). Why not make Han a pacifist too! Next were two scenes in Empire – Vader talking to the hologram Emperor (remember when the Emperor says, "Luke Skywalker that kid that destroyed the Death Star that is Rebel that is also your son that you don’t know about and all" Yeah, that shit) and Darth Vader not ordering his men “Bring my Shuttle!” but “To alert my Star destroyer of my arrival and have them have my slippers and hot cocoa ready” bullshit. And now, adding dialog to Vader again in ROTJ. Who knows what else I'll see on Sept 16th.

This brings me back to the alteration of sticking Ian McDiarmid in as the Emperor in ESB-- I’m okay with it. It makes the continuity with the following films work yet the added dialog was unnecessary and you lead the audience to conclusions. Adding a digital Yoda in The Phantom Menance makes sense since the puppet in Episode I did not look or feel like the Yoda we were used to. Although I do like the Clive Revill version of the Emperor as it was more scary and I felt the hologram generator was causing the deformities in his appearance. Yet, as for other changes, I’m not sure I really need to see eyes blinking on Ewoks.

Unfortunately, this news has put another strike on my fandom. I will continue to hold my pre-order for the blu-rays. I will give them a watch and see how bad the new alterations piss me off. Or maybe I’ll wake up from this nightmare and the movies will be how I remember them but only in 1080p.

The sad story realization here is my fandom slipping. George has not raped my childhood as I still have my memories and a copy of the original teatrical films. But. I definitely have bought the last version of these movies. Sorry George, I liked it more the original way. You don’t change Coke cuz you think more will drink it. You don’t change the Big Mac and you don’t change the smile on the Mona Lisa. How many versions are there of the classics Casablanca and Citizen Kane? Oh, yeah. Precisely!!

They Think He's a Righteous Dude!

2011-07-17T07:17:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday night at Midnight. My Daughter had to be at the premiere screening of the last Harry Potter movie--ever! We bought tickets for a Deathly Hollows double feature. With them leaving to stand in line around 5pm for a 9pm show, I knew she was devoted to watch this movie.

I have never understood the fascination with the Harry Potter franchise. A boy who attends a wizard academy and fights an evil wizard who has deep roots in the boys very life. It's unique. But not that unique. It's the first time I have ever heard of people waiting in lines and waiting hours to buy a book at midnight. Not a movie. A BOOK!

So a series of movies based on those books would only launch this fandom and popularity into freakin outer space. The movies have made billions. That's a lot of millions. Made its author richer than the royal family of her home nation. Sold more books than Bible. What the Hell!?

Now, I've been to a many midnight movies. Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Star Trek, Spider-man 3, Superman Returns and so many others I can't even recall them all. Yet, the one thing that fascinates me most about a Harry Potter movie is the wide range of people that attended this sucker. Star Wars crosses many social demographics; so does Star Trek. Trekkers and Star Woids don't compare though. Harry Potter takes the cake. These Potter Heads (my own description of Harry Potter Fans) are diverse! I had more fun people watching than watching the flick.

There was a couple gay guys sitting next to us, both wearing Harry Potter costumes. If Harry was flaming gay, these guys pulled it off perfectly. The punker chick with body piercings and tats all over her arms. The 40-ish year old Filipino woman wearing her Hogwarts sweater and scarf, reading a worn copy of Chamber of Secrets. The smoking hot twenty-something blond with her jock boyfriend. The middle-age mother of three waving a toy wand that lit up at the end. The cowboy with dirty boots and the shield-like belt buckle. Skinny people. Fat people. Young and old. Hispanic. Black. Asian. And Muggles. They all know Harry Potter. The sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies, dickheads - they all adore him. They think he's a righteous dude!

Harry Potter brings them all together...

In my day it was called Star Wars, dammit!!

2011-07-14T07:24:00.000-07:00

Here I am. Working over my computer. Trying to get midnight tickets. Shows are selling out faster than fat people grabbing free donuts at the Krispy Kreme.

The theater is promising to show the moving in every theater if needed. It’s a Megaplex with 18 screens. 18 F’ing screens!! All may be sold out.

The line was rumored to have started weeks, or in the least, days before the lights will go down. It’s madness. Complete madness. There are thousands of screaming fans. Some are dressed up. Most are wearing T-shirts and waiving props around. They spend hours speaking geek about the movies; the characters; the creatures; the love triangle.

Don’t get me started on the merchandising. There are action figures; clothing; magazines; posters; key chains; pillow cases; underwear; sticker books; Dixie cups and card games.

Oh, did you think I was talking about Star Wars? Hell no! This insanity is Harry Fraking Potter. Where and how did it all start? In my day, this kind of excitement was called Star Wars, dammit!!

So, I got the tickets purchased. My daughter has been bouncing off walls for weeks. This is her Woodstock. Mine was a dual trilogy in a galaxy far, far away. I want to piss all over this Hogwarts stuff. It ticks me off its bigger than Star Wars. Amazed, how a little book about wizards became a trillion dollar empire. And an EVIL one at that!

The bright side: I’ll be waiting in line while reading a Star Wars book. Take that Harry!

After the Show: Autobots, Decepticons and Cybertron, oh my!

2011-07-13T06:50:00.000-07:00

After the Show: Autobots, Decepticons and Cybertron, oh my!
7/3/2011

First thing first: Dark of the Moon was much better than Revenge of the Fallen. Not saying it was the best film of the summer but it was definitely a fun movie! How can cars that turn into freaking robots not be!?

If one can get past the idea that a fresh out of college, jobless and klutzy Sam Witwicky can score a Victoria Secrets super-model, then you'll be okay. I mean I believe the concept of a transforming alien robot to be more true!

The movie is still plagued with some issues that the first two had: a hot girl that does nothing (well this one actually does something in the last ten minutes), ridiculously long robot battles that do nothing to move the story along and plot holes that leave the viewer wondering "did I miss something?"

To say the least, I do want to see this one again. It opens with the same feeling as X-men First Class-- that 60's nostalgia. But it quickly turns to Michael Bay-all-out-action going Mach 2! Someone musta heard my complaint about how the robots all looked alike as I could actually tell who the Autobots vs the Decepticons were this time. Even though I think some of the fighting is ridiculously over exaggerated still.

Will there be a 4th one? Oh definitely! But I'll be curious if it's a Bay film and if Shia Labeouf returns again. The real highlight of this movie is Leonard Nimoy voicing Sentinel Prime! And there is some geekery connecting it back to Spock!

If you got 2 1/2 hours to kill, go see this fun 80s toy movie! You won't regret it (not too much anyways).

Before the Show: Let’s Hope There’s More Than Meets the Eye

2011-07-12T12:26:00.000-07:00

Before the Show: Let’s Hope There’s More Than Meets the Eye

7/2/2011

Being a child of the 80s, I watched the Transformers cartoon. I remember when it debuted as a 1-week mini-series very similar to the G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero mini-series. The cartoon became a daily event—a 30 minute commercial to sell toys. I watched from time to time. I owned a few of the robots. But then in 2007, Michael Bay debuted a live-action Transformers movie.

I was really excited. I knew the characters. I read a few comics. Considering CGI in 2007, this should be a freakin’ good movie. And it was. The problem was with its sequel. Revenge of the Fallen was an attempt to make every explosion bigger and every robot fight more ridiculous. And they forgot one thing -- a story! It was a mess. We went back to the desert to have more robots fights. LA got destroyed again! The robots were so complex, they all looked the same. And the audience got lost on the whole point of the movie. And it was like 2 hours too long.

Now we get Dark of the Moon. Promised to be better than the prior film. Reports that there’s actually a story. The trailer looks very similar to the last two. Robots racing down a highway, transforming while crawling up buildings and Shia LaBeouf falling and saving the girl. One disappointing factor: no Megan Fox. But, then again she’s over rated. She was only good for fan service— short shorts bending over a crotch rocket.

So, I’m off to the theater to see this latest chapter. If anything surprises me, it’ll be that there really is more than meets the eye…

200 words a day

2011-07-11T08:03:00.000-07:00

That's the goal. 200 words a day. To write. 200 words.

I will do it. I must do it.

I hope readers will return. I will try to make each item entertaining. I hope to tie it with other projects and a rebooted website.

Share with friends.

This will be the foundation. The result will be a nice high rise!

Rain - it clears the dust from the air.

2011-06-20T07:11:00.000-07:00

My mind is filled with tons of memories of waking up to rain. Those days being so memorable. Living in back-ass-wards Roswell, rainy days were rare. It was a fuckin desert after all.

Listening to the pitter-pat-tapping of rain falling on the windows soothing my soul.

Once it rained for three straight days in Roswell. The streets flooded and sidewalks got washed away. I remember my mother driving her tiny Toyota Tercel down 2nd street to go to a charity pancake breakfast. The car hitting these huge puddles, spraying water in all directions. Dragging it down. The other cars sprayed water on us and blinded us from the road for a few heart pounding seconds.

Moving away and waking up in the big city. Driving to Toys R Us in the rain to find Star Wars Micro Machine playsets.

Attending Star Wars Celebration in the rain. Rained for three straight days again. Mud everywhere. Wet Leias. Soaked Stormtroopers. And all though water was everywhere, it made that weekend memorable.

Dusty Ayres once said in episode of Robotech, "I like the rain. It clears the dust from the air."

And I find myself saying that every time it rains.

Dreaming of the Perfect Dad

2011-06-19T16:34:00.001-07:00

Father's Day 2011. I'm a father. Daughter and I spend the day watching a super-hero movie. But I don't have a father to call, to wish a happy father's day.

I never knew my father. I know his name. I know where he lives. Yet, life never gave me the opportunity to know him, build a model kit with him, go fishing, throw a football back and forth or gather advice from his wisdom.

And I'm okay with that.

To wish differently, I would have been someone else. Perhaps, I would not like movies, comics books, baseball or art. I may have been a grease head or a cocky jock asshole. I may have become a simplistic farmer instead of a dreamer.

But I like how I turned out. So, I don't mind not knowing him.

Growing up in the 1970s, it seemed many always asked, where's your father? I was like fuckin' 7 years old. How'd the hell I know? He wasn't in our tiny apartment that I knew. So, I created a father to respond to all the questions. I said, he was a test pilot for the Air Force. He had a crash in an experimental aircraft. He was hurt really bad but the government rebuilt him: better, faster and stronger than before. And he had to go on missions and be away a lot.

The crazy shit?

People bought it. I basically gave them the premise for the Six Fuckin' Million Dollar Man and they flippin' bought it! They probably just felt sorry for me. Either, I had no daddy or that I couldn't separate fiction from reality. I'm surprised that I didn't end up in a insane asylum with rubber walls!

By the 1980s, the questions stopped. Yet if they hadn't, I would have created another. Perhaps, he would have been a cop who had to change his identity, drive a cool Trans-Am and help those less fortunate. (One man can make a difference.) Or maybe he would have been an ex-Vietnam soldier looking for his MIA brother while flying a suped-up secret government helicopter. Or hell, maybe I would have shrugged my shoulders and walked away...

After the Show: Arr Maties!

2011-06-07T06:49:00.000-07:00

After the Show: Arr Maties!
5/23/2011

Yo Ho Yo Ho, It’s a pirate’s life for me!

First off: much better than the two messes that proceeded it. The plot was straight forward. I had no trouble understanding what was happening or where it was going. I will say the beginning was slow. I felt like I was waiting in line for the ride at Disneyland and I have no Fast Pass. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel and wanted the line to move faster.

Once the sails dropped on Blackbeard’s ship, Jolly Roger, the movie picked up pace and the action followed. Jack Sparrow was classic Sparrow. The stunts were spectacular but not over the top. Blackbeard, mysterious and possibly driven by a dark magic, was frightening. Penelope Cruz was stunning and doable. Zombies, Mermaids and a Spanish Armada combined make a fun and entertaining movie.

Pirates are always cool. Only Ninjas and Vikings can rival the coolness. Well, maybe half naked Mermaids. It’s worth every dollar.

I want to see this movie again as I felt I missed many clues, i.e. the homage to the ride. Although I think it’s the bar scene. (note: 5/25 I've been informed its the balance act in the captain's quarters scene). I think it as good as the first and the final scene after the credits hint at another. Oops Spoiler. (always stay for the credits!) We can only hope that it arrives before the next high tide!

Before the Show: Batten down the hatches!

2011-05-24T20:29:00.000-07:00

Before the Show: Batten down the hatches!
5/19/2011

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides opens tonight at 12:01 midnight. Will I be there? No, I’ll be eating at 4:30 and in bed by 8:30. And no, I’m not getting old!

Disney has promoted this film quite heavily. I think the first teaser came out last summer. So now, the test is: will it fall victim to Godzilla Disease? Remember when in 1998 when there was a Godzilla trailer on every movie for a year, then we saw that pile of lizard poo. Sorry, leave Godzilla to the Japanese (you should have said no Ferris Bueller?)!

The last two Pirates movies were a mess. While watching the second and third, we had to batten down the hatches from all the muddy water that was being flung our way. The first movie was a fun ride. Then 2 and 3 came along trying to make an almighty trilogy but it just plundered. Yet, I am truly excited about this new one!

What’s not to love? We get a solid performance of Captain Jack Sparrow! (no Will Turner to get in the way). There’s a fun and simple plot— pirates searching for the fabled Fountain of Youth. Freakin’ awesome, by the way! Blackbeard – pirate of all pirates! Penelope Cruz! Oh-la-la.

After At Worlds End, I hung up my tricorn and eye patch but with On Stranger Tides, I’ve dusted them off and I’m proud to say, “Arrrr!” once again.

After the Show: Found my Thor religion!

2011-05-11T09:22:00.000-07:00

After the Show: Found my Thor religion!
5/6/2011

Remember in Lethal Weapon when Murtaugh tells Riggs, “I’m too old for this sh--!” I always say that after I go to a 12:01 Midnight release of a big blockbuster. But, even though the bones creak the next day and I survive on a measly three hours sleep (on a work night to boot!), I still have fun.

THOR was a godly level movie! (pun intended). I kneeled before its breath-taking cinematography and costumes. It sang gospels about Rainbow Bridges and Nine Realms. Thy cup runith over with Frost Giants and Warriors Three. Evil felt the might of Mjolnir (i.e. Thor’s Hammer). The sermon was simplistic but powerful—not complete unless filled with fire and brimstone (and an icicle or two). I gave my $10tithe and I was filled with joy and sunshine. Can I get an Amen!?

And like all good things, it ended way too fast. I prayed for more. (which we got at the end of the credits). Is it the best of the Marvel Universe films? No. (sorry, I might give that nod to Iron Man —well, until Capt. American comes out.) But is it Marvel Entertainment at its best? Yes. If anything, I will remember the line, “This drink... I like it! More!” Oh, and Stan’s cameo, maybe the best yet!! No lie.

Before the Show: Mighty God of Thunder!

2011-05-06T15:14:00.000-07:00

Some thoughts on THOR! before the show

Before the Show: Mighty God of Thunder!
5/5/2011

The last time I watched a movie with Thor in it, it was 1987. Chris Parker (Elizabeth Shue) was babysitting Sara Anderson (Maia Brewton), who was the biggest Thor fan. Sara taught me the proper bow and line, “All hail mighty God of Thunder!” while pounding her tiny hammer on the ground two times. Oh wait. I watched the Incredible Hulk Returns in 1988 and that had Thor in it. So nix that first part.

Regardless. In less than 12 hours I will be watching the movie at 12:01 Midnight. By 3:00am I will wish Target was open so I can buy the Role-Play Hammer and Helmet from Hasbro Toys.

How can a movie about a God of Thunder go wrong? Its Asgard has visually pulled me into that mythological world. Seeing average army guys trying to lift a hammer of a god is joy in itself. Actually believing S.H.E.I.D can go toe to toe with a god will be worth all the popcorn in Nebraska. That being said, Marvel Entertainment is really clicking with creating, not only a movie franchise, but a movie universe. Heck, I’m not even turned off by that Star Wars girl being in it.

For those that think a Comic Book movie has to be sophisticated: it does have Anthony Hopkins and it’s directed by Kenneth Branagh (you know the Shakespeare guy). So put that in your pipe and smoke it!

After the Show: Fast Five

2011-05-05T17:39:00.001-07:00

The first of the "After the Show" reviews.There may be a few scene spoilers but nothing on the overall story or plot twists.

After the show! (A review from a movie lover not a tight ass critic)
5/2/11

Fast Five is a movie that goes great with one of those Monster Truck Announcers-"Sunday,Sunday,Sunday!" as I was on the edge of my seat!

I had no doubts this movie would pay off. How can a fist and knuckle fight between "the Rock" and Vin Diesel not be worth the price of admission?! It gave me what I wanted: street racing in Dodge Hemi-fied police cars; thousands of 7.62 rounds fired; a bank heist that doesn't break into the vault but steal the vault (yeah, the whole frigging vault); and, cops who follow the path of honor even beyond their loyalty to a badge.

The fifth installment delivers no differently than the last four--maybe even more some. Old characters pop up and new ones are introduced. The writers have not forgotten to weave past events and characters throughout.

If you want two hours of fun while eating popcorn and slurping a soda, go see this movie! Oh, and stay through the credits. Like I need to say that nowadays but you'd be surprised how many jumped up and nearly missed the golden Easter Egg at the end…

Before the Show

2011-05-04T19:35:00.000-07:00

Here is the first of a "Before the Show" or my thoughts before I see a movie and it will be followed by an "After the Show" once I see said movie. This of course was written last week and was about Fast Five.

Before the Show (reviews of a movie using only the trailer)

4/29/2011

Why I think Fast Five will be the fuse to the Summer Movie Explosion.

If there were two kick-ass action stars in 2011, it would be Vin Diesel and Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson. Yeah, they’ve been around a while but unlike the aging action stars of days past like Ah-nold (who needs a shot of Metamucil in the morning) and Bruce Willis (who’s career has shown perhaps he doesn’t Die That Hard after all) they can still run from the explosions. And what can be better than having both of them in the same fraking movie?

Cars, Cops, Bad Guys, More Cars, Thievery (some committed by ex cops), Explosions, Cars Crashing and seeing both Vin and Rock in the same frame of film, is why I will enjoy this action adventure. This is the movie that will cause me to rev my 4 cylinder engine like an Indy Car driver, squeal tires as I leave the theater parking lot, and for about 5 minutes, actually consider quitting my day job and trading in my Saturn for a Nitrous-injected Honda to begin my days as a misunderstood street racer.

That’s all I need outta my $10 bucks! I don’t need this movie to impart wisdom or explain society through light and shadow…

Silver Screen Stuff

2011-05-03T19:01:00.000-07:00

A friend wanted me to write a series of 200 word reviews of the 2011 Movies before and after I saw them for a new Geek site due to launch very soon. The following was the sample I provided to see if he liked my writing style. Lets say, I got the job. The site has been delayed but I thought I would share them in the mean time. I will link the site when it is ready to debut.

The Summer Movies 2011

4/26/11

Fast Five. So begins the summer! In less than one week, the movie roller coaster ride will begin. And, it will be a true roller coaster: full of ups and downs, throw in a few loop-dee-loops and a hard brake at the end.

If the 2011 movie season was a date with a beautiful woman, Fast Five would be the icebreaker; Thor would be the pick up line; Pirates 4, the overpriced meal (although very tasty and entertaining); Hangover 2 would be the drinks and dirty talk at the bar; Kung Fu Panda 2 is the awkward filled silence; followed by the hard decision of dessert between X-men First Class or Green Lantern (X-men luring by extreme flavor where Green Lantern only looking gorgeous on the plate); Transformers 3 will be the heavy petting in the car; Captain America is the exciting sex; and depending on stamina, the climax could be a blue ball of the Smurfs, a rough explosion of savage love in Conan or the primal release of Rise of Planets of the Apes.

If this kind of evening is not for you, then avoid the multiplexes. Until then, Fast Five looks to be the smoking hot blonde that just walked in the door….

Smelly Bowling Shoes and Parachute Pants!

2011-04-25T08:40:00.000-07:00

There were a few things that inspired my fashion sense growing up. One was Ricky Stratton. The other was Marty McFly. The 80s dominated by two. I look on the bright side and think, at least Mr. T wasn’t involved (never liked gold chains that much).

Living in backasswards Roswell, and no such thing as the internet, the trendsetter was usually prime-time television. So I pleaded with my mother to control the dial on Saturday nights and watch Silver Spoons and Gimme a Break instead of the ex-starship captain on TJ Hooker. And no it wasn’t me that turned over to The Love Boat if there was too much Nell Carter and not enough Samantha. (ok, it was me. Sshhh! There was something appealing about Julie the cruise director.)

Ricky and Derek exposed me to Parachute Pants, Torn Tee Shirts and bright neon colors. Top Siders and Roled Jeans would follow. Who could forget the Reebok high tops with the Velcro on top! If a 10 year old boy had a fashion magazine, that show was it. It still boggles my mind how information turned into commercial products back in the stone age of the 1980s (no internet, no twitter, no social media!). One cold find a few of the fashions at Bealls but the place to be seen at was Miller’s Outpost- a chain store at the time and as popular as any Hot Topic today. It was Millers that I bought: the ultra cool Levi Jean Jacket! To be considered the ultra cool it had to have a lining. And the color and designed mattered. Plaid was the key. Red or blue. Green maybe. If it had little flowers or was satin then you just wore the earring in the wrong ear. The lining mattered as it was the thing to roll the sleeve to expose that lining. Cheerleaders talked to me because of that jacket. (well, that’s how I remember it anyways).

Also, since my mother was a conservative single parent it was hard to convince her that I needed the Parachute Pants in every color, or in one color at the least. My first pair came in as a birthday present from a good friend. They were blue. They rocked! And I wore them every other day. Then I convinced my mother to buy a gray pair and eventually a black pair (Christmas gifts if I recall). If I still had the size and shape of a 10 year old boy, I would want those pants today.

I was in a bowling league back then. It was my mother’s way of getting me out of the house on Saturday mornings and not spend the whole morning watching Saturday Morning Cartoons. (damn I miss those cartoons!!). All the Cools would pair the latest colors. I can’t explain the tinglings I got starring at Heather’s butt in a tight pair of red parachute pants in 1983 – a very strong memory of those days. I laugh as she was like 15 and I was only 11 (somewhere there’s a little Anakin and Padme joke minus the actually getting the girl and falling to the dark side). Noting attracts the babes than smelly bowling shoes and parachute pants. Heather was my real world Samanatha Kanisky.

We had a cool sound effect too. It was swish-swish-swish as we walked. Nothing like na-na- nanananana as I ran.

Then, things changed in 1985. A time traveling high schooler showed me that Levi’s with suspenders and button-down oxfords with a life preserver were cool. I was in the 7th grade and I verbally forced my mother to sew buttons on all my jeans so I could attach suspenders to them. (the clip-on versions were just lame and too Mork-like) This was under the threat that I would be a social reject if I didn’t show up at school on Monday with them. I think I wore that style until Junior Year. (did I forget to mention that I avoided change.)

Welcome to Gibson’s, you little thief!

2011-02-09T15:22:00.000-08:00

In 1982, my Grandmother pulled her green 1966 AMC Rambler into the Gibson’s parking lot. The car was a behemoth piece of iron. The doors were heavy to pull closed. Well, to a 10 year old. It ran rough, had no air conditioning, unless you considered the windows, the driver side door had a big rusty dent and the radio only picked up the AM band, something with Paul Harvey.

I had moments earlier gotten off the 10:15 Greyhound from Roswell. After the visit to Yucca Newsstand, my Grandmother and I drove down 1st street in Alamogordo New Mexico to shop the Gibson’s. There was a Gibson’s in Roswell yet this one felt much much different. The building looked like two buildings merged into one. The one in Alamo stayed open long after the one in Roswell closed. Walking into the store via the automatic doors that required you to stand on the pressure pad before they swung open, I immediately bolted for the toy department. It was to the back and right. The store was dark and quiet. I looked over the games, puzzles, pushed my way past the display of Glo-worms, the stacks of Rubik’s Cubes and the hordes of E.T. shit. The toys I wanted to look at weren’t in the Toy Department at all.

I walked down a little ramp into the other part of Gibson’s. This section was the Home Improvement, Electronics and Outdoor items. Toward the front was Electronics. Behind the counter, next to portable cassette players and Atari cartridges were the Star Wars figures. All the figures were hanging on J-hooks behind a huge glass display case. I had to tippy-toe just to get a good look at them. If I wanted to look closer or actually touch the things, I would need a parent or guardian. Yet, that didn’t stop me from asking to look at them. Sometimes, the clerk would allow me to hold them. I’d ask to see the AT-AT Driver or Cloud Car Pilot. The zit faced punk behind the counter would hand them to me and then act annoyed. He’d stare at me as if I just farted and filled the area with noxious fumes and ask if I was going to buy it. I’d shake my head and hand them back. Of course I would go find my Grandmother and beg for one. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. I don’t recall if I was able to buy that AT-AT driver that day or another day, but it was exciting to look at the figures and envy them. I would point out the ones to my Grandmother that I really really needed and asked her to share the info with the family and Santa Claus.

Gibson’s wasn’t a kid friendly store, as I remember it. Even much later when I was older (12 or 14) if I wasn’t attended by an adult, the staff would watch you constantly. Follow you around. And sometimes stand in the isle, mere feet from you. I’m surprised I never saw them do a ninja roll or do one of those army man crawls to sneak up on me. Usually, they were sly about it, but mostly they didn’t care and wanted to make you feel like a fuckin thief as you picked up the 1982 G.I. Joe Mobile Missile System with Hawk and heaven forbid wanted to look at the box closer. (I know what you’re thinking. Earlier I stated I was not aware of GI Joe until Fall of 1983. Yet, while searching my memory banks proved I do remember looking at the toys. I just didn’t think they were as cool until I saw the G.I. Joe: An American Hero mini-series cartoon. So I wasn’t lying just hadn’t remembered it as clearly as I would have liked.) To this day, I wonder if Gibson’s spent hours training their employees on how to be douches. Were there slide shows of how to spot an innocent child and assume they would pocket everything in sight? Seminars on Customers are only over 47 and Children are a Nuisance. You might as well used the greeting, “Welcome to Gibson’s, you little thief!”

If my grandmother didn’t need any kitchen bags or laundry soap, we’d leave Gibson’s with little fuss and go back to her little apartment. Lunch would be an early afternoon affair. And if I was lucky, it would include a hot Steak-um sandwich!

Remember the Alamo - gordo!

2011-02-08T14:33:00.000-08:00

Every summer and perhaps every Spring Break and Fall Break, my mother would send me off to my Grandmother’s in Alamogordo New Mexico. I never minded. It was always a good thing, except for one summer where I missed the last 10 episodes of Robotech in the early summer days of 1985. I usually anticipated the trip. Simply, it was a time to get my comic books (that my grandmother would buy and save for me) and it meant ice cream before bedtime (which was always a special treat at Grandma’s and no where else.)

With my mother working her butt off and never having any real time off, except two-paid-weeks-during-July, I usually went to Alamogordo on my own. The journey would always begin with my mother dropping me off at the Greyhound Bus Station on Main St. in Roswell. She would buy me a round trip ticket, she would watch me board the bus, watch the bus pull out and wave as it drove down the street. I remember doing this as early as 1982 , maybe 1981. I remember the first time I rode the bus alone to Alamogordo was a bit scary. My mother told the bus driver that I was only 9 years old and if he could keep an eye on me. I remember being embarrassed. The bus driver didn’t give a shit about watching some snot nosed brat for the next two hours. He just wanted to get the bus to its next destination and not play Romper Room Babysitter. I was also instructed, by my mother, I could not sit anywhere but the seat behind the driver or directly across from the driver. I did as I was told and not before too long, I was a hardened veteran and bus rides to Alamogordo were nothing.

The 117 miles to Alamogordo would fly by. I would read my comics, stare out the window and daydream or play my Milton Bradley Microvision game system (think Gameboy but much earlier). Sometimes, I would get off the bus at the pit-stop in Ruidoso and get a soda, even when I was told by my mother not to get off the bus for any reason unless it was on fire. And my Grandmother was always waiting for me when the bus arrived in Alamo. Yet, I do have a vague memory of the bus getting there and not finding her anywhere for almost 10 minutes. It was the scariest 10 minutes a 9-year-old could or would possibly go through. It was just a mild panic attack surrounded by fears of abandonment. Not to mention, it wasn’t like I could just whip out my iPhone and call or text her. I actually had to find a “payphone” and the handsets were always booger nasty. Plus, I used all my quarters on the soda in Ruidoso! Yet, as I started to panic, I turned and there she was. Her explanation was the bus drove too fast and was early. I forgave her. It never happened again, I’m positive.

When I got to Alamogordo, I would ask if we could stop at the Yucca Newsstand. I always wanted it to be my first stop. I wanted to look at the comics. I would buy issues of stuff I normally didn’t ask Grandmother to buy. I loved Yucca Newsstand. It smelled of musty paperback books and tobacco. The floorboards would creak and squeak. Not only the best place for comics that I knew of in 1982, it sold a variety of cigar and pipe tobacco along with coins. It was in Yucca Newsstand that I learned to love the smell of newsprint! I wish I would have been able to visit the store one last time before it closed. It will be missed.

Then, the next stop would usually be Gibson’s. Again, I wanted to look at the Star Wars figures. Oh, how I remember the Star Wars figures at Gibson’s…

more to come!

Half the Battle!

2011-02-04T13:43:00.000-08:00

At the time, I didn’t know how doomed I was when I started to worship G.I. Joe. I couldn’t get enough. If I could have crushed and snorted G.I. Joe, I might have done it.

While watching the G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero mini-series in 1983, I saw several commercials promoting the battles of G.I. Joe and Destro (a alley of Cobra) in Marvel Comics’ G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero Issue #18. “On sale wherever comic books are sold!,” it said. One problem. I happened to live in back-ass-wards town! Where the hell do they sell f-ing comics in Roswell? I could only think of two places: the Walgreen’s on North Main. (this is where I regularly begged my mother to drive me on Sundays so I could buy an issue of Teen Titans) and the Newsstand on 3rd Street (they had a wobbly wire spinner rack). There was no freaking time to wait. I had to have the comic now! The Newsstand was helluva lot closer than the Walgreen’s. If I told my mother I was going to CBs house, I could make it there and back within an hour and half via my Black n’ Gold Huffy. Riding my bike to and from was all kinds of dangerous and my mother would have definitely whipped my ass with that humungous leather belt of hers if she found out. It was worth the risk. With a pocket of cash (most likely a dollar forty-five in coins; paper money was only for rich kids!) I began my trek.

Two hours later, I laid on my bedroom floor turning pages of that kickass comic. I think I read it three times that day. I had the buzz. I gotta have more. Yet, I had no way of getting every issue. The Walgreen’s never seemed to get a constant selection of comics (Teen Titans may be there one month and it might not). I couldn’t count on the Newsstand either. But there was one place that was more reliable. It was Yucca Newsstand in Alamogordo. I called my Grandmother and asked if she could go down there every week and look for G.I.Joe. She didn’t sound too excited about the request. But she agreed because she loved her little Grandson! I sweetened the deal. I told her that if there wasn’t a G.I. Joe comic there, she could pick up Teen Titans and/or Justice League. She accepted her mission. And I routinely sent my Grandmother an envelope with a few dollars in it to cover the books. (remember, comics back then were only .60 cents!) Thanksgiving weekend was the first time I could visit and she had a handful of comics waiting for me; including, G.I.Joe #20! Unfortunately, I missed #19 in the transition but I didn’t care. I was reading G.I. Joe! This would continue for another 11 years until it ended with issue #155 in 1994. (And I would get all the back issues.)

If G.I. Joe comics were Crack, then the figures were my Heroin. Not sure how I accomplished it but I bought over twenty figures between 1984 and 1985. Almost died trying to take Blowtorch home.

After school one day, I took all my money to ALCO and shuffled through all the figures. The coolest by far was the G.I. Joe team’s flamethrower. He was in this red and gold suit; he had a helmet with mask, tank and the flamethrower! I bought him. Then, I jumped on my bike to go home. He was just too cool for my flipping backpack so I decided to carry him home. One hand on the handlebars, one had holding my little 3 ¾ inch fucking flamethrower! This is wear I almost died. While riding along the side walk, I decided to spin the card around and look at all the other Joes (and Cobras; Cobra was always much more wicked). I dreamed. I drooled. And if not for the nice man racking leaves in his lawn, I would have slammed into a parked 1979 Ford Bronco. In that few nano-seconds, this man saw I was more preoccupied by my new toy, saw the impending disaster, and yelled, “watch it!” His shout snapped me out of a G.I. Joe induced trance and I looked to see the Ford blocking my path. I quickly reversed my peddles and skidded to a stop! Whew! A foot to spare to boot. Slamming into that truck would have been bad. I know. I could have been killed or worse (damaging the action figure of course!) Yet, I avoided death and Blowtorch was safe in his little plastic chamber.

Like all addicts, I denied my problem. I could stop whenever I wanted. I was in control. Wasn’t I? Of course!

The G.I. Joe addiction was only half the battle. It would start a downward spiral of addition after addiction. These addictions would pinnacle twenty years later. But man! It was one helluva a ride! (I’ll get that later…)

Now you Know!

2011-02-03T12:38:00.000-08:00

My refusal to Grow Up and my determination to remain a Toys R Us Kid has guided my preference in hobbies and likes/dislikes even into mid-life adulthood. Although, I have definitely relaxed many of the associated burdens in the last few years (I’ll explain later).

I’ve always been a dreamer. I’ve always looked away and imagined a better world. This can be justified by why movies and TV impacted my life so greatly. The unfortunate fact is: the little box with pictures was a surrogate parent for most of my childhood. Even into teen years and early adulthood, I found it a comfortable crutch to fall back on in tough or stressful times. With a click, I was transported into another world or time. The characters around me were much more interesting than the ordinary people in my life. A sad fact from my early childhood was using every birthday wish, penny into the wishing well wish, prayers and shooting stars wishes asking—no pleading—for the worlds of Star Wars and Battlestar Galactica to magically take me away. (I still wish it from time to time.)

The string of stellar events that would define me would start with the release of Star Wars; jump back to Six Million Dollar Man, move forward with the debut of Battlestar Galactica; Superman: The Movie; G.I. Joe; Robotech and Star Trek: Next Generation. Over the years, each would return and in some ironic set of events repeat my preference for each.

So, as my childhood progressed, Star Wars was interrupted in 1983 by a cartoon known as G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero. Suddenly, there was something just as cool as Star Wars but grounded here on Earth. And there was a Ruthless Terrorist Organization Determined to Rule the World, known as Cobra! The show debuted Fall 1983. It was a five part mini-series based on the Hasbro toy line but at the time, I was just not aware of the toys. I had focused so much on Star Wars, I had missed it. I can’t explain how awesome this show was for me at 10 (going on 11) years old. I raced my bike home every afternoon to catch the next episode. And when it was complete, I begged the TV to play more. KCOP in L.A. would re-run it a couple times along with debuting its mechanized cousin, The Transformers mini-series. The show caused me to box up the Star Wars figures and head out to the store. Kmart had nothing! ALCO had nothing! WTF! I want me some fucking G.I. Joe figures. I know they exist as I saw the commercials. Hell, the show was a glorified toy commercial! There was a little off-the-wall toy store in the mall that mainly sold bears, dolls and constructive toys not the big commercial ones. I found one G.I. Joe figure in there. It was a Short Fuze. It wasn’t even a new 1983 figure. It was an original 1982 version, non swivel grip arm, before there was a Cobra listed on the back of the card, figure. But I didn’t care. I borrowed against my allowance for four consecutive weeks and bought him. (price tag was $3.99!!) This was the very first G.I. Joe figure I ever bought! And it was F-ing rad!

Let me back up just a few weeks. I said the Short Fuze was the first G.I. Joe figure I ever bought. It was. But it wasn’t my first G.I. Joe figure ever. With the cartoon mini-series, I became aware of G.I. Joe toys. One Saturday, SM and me went to ALCO via our bikes. In the toy isle, I held in my hands the ultra rad ninja ass-kicking Cobra known as Storm Shadow. I was 10 and had only a few pennies to my name (to which I would spend down at the Five and Dime on Penny gum later). The price tagged read $2.49! Two dollars and 49 cents was a helluva lot of money. It could have been a million dollars. Yet, SM had a solution. He would take it into the ALCO bathroom. What the Fuck? Does Stormie need to take a dump? I quickly questioned SM why? He told me to shut the fuck up and wait for him in the toy isle. After a few minutes, he returned and said “let’s go.” I followed. We rode our bikes around to the back of the Plains Park Shopping Center where he pulled from his crouch ol’ Stormie! He gave him to me and said “he’s all yours.” At first I was so astonished I forgot that: first:, it was just inside SM’s underwear!! Eww! Second, that he just fucking stole this figure from ALCO. Ahh, that’s why he went to the bathroom! I asked Stormie if SM had molested him in the bathroom but he said he didn’t want to talk about it. I felt it best to just let it go. And thus, he was my first G.I. Joe. (for the record, all of my other Joes were paid for and obtained honestly, ethically and in accordance with local laws!)

And that’s how I got my first two G.I. Joe figures.

Now you Know, and knowing is half the battle!

Remembering the Challenger!

2011-01-28T19:52:00.000-08:00

Twenty five years ago, a historic event imprinted itself on all of our memories. Like the day, John F. Kennedy was assassinated or when the planes hit the towers, most people recall the exact time and place they were when they heard of the Space Shuttle Challenger’s tragedy.

It was January 28, 1986. I was in the seventh grade. I was leaving Social Studies and heading to Ms. Fitzsimmons Language Arts class. The bell had rung and I went to my locker to switch out my books. I opened my locker door and this little kid named Jon who’s locker was next to mine walked up. As he opened his locker, he looked to me and exclaimed that the Shuttle just blew up. I thought he was joking. Being a nerd, I knew the Shuttle was launching that morning and I thought Jon was just being an asshole. I told him to suck it and stop dicking around. He swore he was telling the truth. I slammed my locker and said “whatever!”. I walked into my Language Arts class and sat down. Most of the kids were buzzing about something. Ms. Fitzsimmons walked into the room and told everyone that we would be going to the Library to watch the news. As we strolled into the Library in single file, we were instructed to find a seat, there were chairs but most of us sat in the floor. The TV was already on and footage was playing from Cape Canaveral. Before I knew any details, they were replaying the iconic explosion and the two booster rockers zooming off in opposite directions. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. I was literally in shock. How could the fucking shuttle blow up? It was like it was some scene out of some low budget sci-fi flick. I sat in that Library for another 45 minutes in shock. I didn’t admit it back then but tears ran down my cheek.

The Shuttle program was very personal to me at that time. With my Grandmother living in Alamogordo, I had traveled to International Space Hall of Fame. I had the Shuttle toy, both the version on the 747 transport and the wone with External Fuel Tank and Separate Rocket Boosters. I thought it incredibly cool that we could launch this thing into space and it could glide back to Earth and land like a plane.

In March 1982, the Space Shuttle Columbia STS-3 was having trouble landing at its normal landing site at Edwards Air Force Base in California. The shuttle couldn’t remain in space any longer. Edwards was unsuitable due to weather and an alternate site was needed. White Sands Missile Range was found to be an adequate landing site. This was quite exciting. White Sands was only 30 miles from Alamogordo. I was visiting my Grandmother that week. I don’t recall why unless it was Spring Break. I do remember that week that there was many events going on up at the Space Hall. According to the mission leaders, the shuttle was going to enter the landing window some where over New Mexico, glide over Alamogordo and the Space Hall, making a circle and then landing at White Sands. The Space Hall of Fame had many promotions of how they could celebrate this historic event. The was one idea that Shuttle fans would hold tiny little mirrors and reflect a “hello” message to the Shuttle crew. I still have a picture of my Grandmother and I posing with the tiny mirrors up at the Space Hall of Fame. Yet, this little gimmick was nixed because the thought the reflecting light would cause a possible dangerous distraction to the Shuttle pilots.

For the days leading up to the landing at White Sands, my Grandmother clipped newspaper articles and photos from the local newspaper. Before I knew it she had cut dozens out of the paper. We added them to the dozens she had cut from the newspaper over the last couple years. We had so many now that I started a scrap book in an old photo album. I still have that Scrapbook. I cherish it as I remember my Grandmother taking the time to cut the articles and helped me organize them. Even after the Shuttle landed, she continued to cut the articles. The scrapbook grew. We went back to the Space Hall of Fame and bought some cool Shuttle Sticker to decorate the cover.

There was also an art contest. I can’t recall if it was sponsored by the Space Hall or if it was done by the local library or something. But I drew a drawing of the shuttle landing at White Sands. I even included the White Sands dunes and Yucca plants. I didn’t win anything but a “thank you” for participating. And like the scrap book, I kept the drawing. My mother just recently returned it to me with some other art pieces I had done when I was in grade school.

The days leading up to the landing felt like weeks but I know it was only a few days. I remember watching jets fly over my Grandmothers house. I swore I heard the sonic boom of the Shuttle slowing down over Alamogordo. I searched the sky looking for the white glider. I never physically saw it above her house. But I ran inside and watched the landing live on the small TV inside my Grandmother’s apartment. It was so fucking cool that the Space Shuttle was landing in New Mexico. Before I thought nothing important happened in New Mexico but on that day, something did.

Over the next few weeks, we’d tell Shuttle jokes like: “What did the captain say just before the Shuttle exploded? – What’s this little button do!” “What color were the Shuttle Pilot’s eyes? Blue, one Blew that way and one Blew that way.” “How many astronauts can you fit into a car? Two in the front, two in the back and seven in the ash tray.” We thought they were incredibly funny. Now, it just sounds sick and shit. I have grown incredible respect for those brave souls. America wouldn’t lose any astronauts again for another 17 years. Again we’d lose a Shuttle. One we lost on launch. One we lost on its return. It is so ironic it doesn’t feel like it happened by chance. But either way, I felt great sadness on those days. I look to the future of this year as the Shuttle program and last three shuttles fly their final flights and are retired. I pray to God they crew and ships are kept safe.

We will always remember Shuttle Challenger. Jan 28, 1986 – Jan 28, 2011!

Root Beer and Oreos Came Out His Nose!

2011-01-27T16:03:00.001-08:00

My earliest memory of Roswell dates back to 1975. It was living in our first apartment at Columbia Manor Apartments. It was a dinky one-bedroom that was directly below the L wing that stood on stilts. Thus, the apartment was always dark as the windows never got sunlight. I just remember the soft tangerine glow of the dining room chandelier light.

Not sure why, but we lived at Columbia Manor three separate times between 1975 and 1983. I think it was close to my mothers work. Or perhaps it was affordable.

Since I was only 3 at the time, the memories are very vague but I do remember that apartment. The next memory is from early 1976 or 1977. I remember my mother leaving me with a baby sitter who lived in a mobile home. It wasn’t one of those shitty single-wides but one of the nice deluxe double-wides and I’m pretty sure the wheels had been removed and it sat on a cinder block foundation as if it was a permanent home. The distinct memory is of myself and the other kids taking a nap on thin mats. I was put right next to a heater vent that I swore had a warm fiery glow at the bottom--as if it shot straight down to a horrid dungeon! I couldn’t sleep thinking some beast with drool dripping from his lips was going to burst through the metal vent any moment and eat me!

Then in 1977, another memory hits. My mother put me in my PJs and popped some Jiffy Pop on the stove and we loaded the car to go to the Drive-In to watch Star Wars! The stormtroopers kicked ass and Darth Vader scared the shit out of me. I wondered how the droids were going to get out of the desert and then a bunch of elves found them. Then, I remember a lot of talking in a cantina and it was lights out. I didn’t see the whole movie until 1978 when I saw it in air-conditioned theater. (That was the cool thing back in the 70s and early 80s, some movies were in the theaters for months, even years!)

Mostly scenes from babysitters permeate my memories during the 1970s. It was very traumatic for me. I felt like it was a new place every other week. Sometime in 1977, I remember sitting on a swing outside of a babysitter’s house crying for hours because my mother left me there early one Saturday morning. This was the same babysitters house where one of her daughters told me the bird bath was filled with chocolate milk. She dared me to drink it. Let’s say it wasn’t no fucking chocolate milk. The shit was muddy water. Now do you see why these events were traumatic for a little five year old.

The babysitter blues would end when my mother finally found the noble Grandma Combs. We called her Grandma although none of the kids she watched were actually related to her. She would be my after school daycare from the late ‘79 until 1982 when she retired and I became a Latch Key Kid. The memories were not traumatic. They were milestone memories. Sitting in her floor, watching the huge built-in TV, watching 5 daring young heroes defend Earth from alien invaders in Battle of the Planets, watching Travis laugh at a joke and seeing Root Beer and Oreos come shooting out his nose and fighting off the other kids so I could watch a shortened version of Star Wars on this little movie viewer I checked out from the Valley View Library.

VCRs and Softy Porn

2011-01-26T16:17:00.000-08:00

I recall our first VCR arrived the Christmas of 1985. It wasn’t anything fancy. Heck, it wasn’t even a name brand. It was the Sears brand SR-3000. I didn’t care. The machine held great power. And with great power came great responsibility. It allowed me to record television and replay it back whenever I wanted. I wasn’t a social outcast at school any longer. I could tell my friends that I now had a membership card to the Plains Park Video Store.

The technology wasn’t anything new. I can recall several friends having VCRs dating back to early 1982 or 1983. CB had one. It was a top loader—most likely from Panasonic or RCA. Sony was still pissed that their Betamax didn’t take off. He would record Friday Night Videos from NBC and we’d watch them after school the following week. We wanted our MTV but our little conservative town that MTV was a product of the devil and would rot our souls. Friday Night Videos was the next best thing. Blondie. Cars. Dire Straits. (For the record: Roswell would finally get MTV the summer of 1988.)

The SR-3000 was wickedly cool. It was a side loader thus I could push the tapes in and whoosh they would disappear inside. No need to push down a tape like those old ’82 models. Ours even had Right and Left equalizer lights. It was fucking kewl! And did I break in that membership card at the video store in 1986. Weird Science. My Science Project. Empire Strikes Back for the first time since 1981!

1985 wasn’t the first year I recorded TV. I had been doing it for several years. The problem was: it was on audio tape not video tape. I wanted to remember my favorite shows so much in 1983 and 1984, that I used my little black tape recorder to record shows like G.I. Joe A Real American Hero, Transformers the mini-series, Go-Bots, He-man and Tranzor Z. I would listen to them over and over again. The experience was very much like listening to my old Star Wars Adventure records and radio dramas. It used the most advanced visual technology- that of the imagination! I would beg my mother to take me to Kmart so I could buy more blank Memorex tapes (more like I got the cheap Kmart brand tapes). Before I knew it I had a shoe box full of TV episodes for my listening pleasure. Yet, I quickly traded it all away for the chance to record TV on video tape!

I even remember buying my first licensed video (VHS) tape too. It was G.I. Joe: The Revenge of Cobra mini-series. A video store in Alamogordo sold it to me used for $24 in 1986. My grandmother thought I was being robbed— $24 was outrageous! What was Vi. De. O. Tape? But damn, I could now watch GI Joe when I wanted! A few months later, Pepsi would introduce the mass marketed retail video tape of Top Gun. That was VHS tape number two! I wanted to buy the Star Wars Trilogy but remember it being like hundreds of dollars. In 1989, I think I got them free with a CBS Video club membership. Not sure if I ever finished my obligation to that membership. Dumb bastards should have known I was only 16 and had no job.

Oh, and I also learned my lesson on trying to rent softy porn that year, 1986. If you’re going to do it, make sure you rent it after lunch. Especially if your mother goes to the video store on her lunch hour to rent you Goonies and Real Genius for some afternoon movie watching. See, in small towns, the business owners usually know their customers. They informed my mother that I just left an hour or so earlier with a copy of The Lonely Lady starring Pia Zadora. Now, they didn’t stop me from renting the softy porn but they sure were willing to share that piece of information to my mother. Assholes! I had just got home and was about to pop it into the VCR and watch it when I heard my mothers car pull up. Eject. Back in the case. Under the bed. My mother enters says, “I rented you some movies,” to which I reply with “cool.” She then asked if I wanted to share anything. (Damn mind games!) I said, “no” to which she quickly replied, “I know you rented the movie.” She wanted to know where it was as she was going to take it back to the store before going back to work. I slowly admitted guilt and gave her the tape. I then, had to sit, for twenty minutes, while my mother asked if I rented the movie because I had questions about sex and love. I said no. I wanted to say, CB has HBO. I already know all this stuff. The simple truth was: I just wanted to see titties, mom!

Thus, never did I rent the softy porn again. But it didn’t stop me from recording it when we got free Cinemax for the weekend! (wink wink!) That’s a story for another day….

The Viking Years Pt. II

2011-01-25T12:33:00.000-08:00

Valley View. Home of the Fighting Vikings. I always wondered who we were fighting? There were no athletic titles to defend. (I don’t think “500” counted) Were we, as these Norse Barbarians, fighting for academic superiority? Or were we defending our awesomeness? Maybe.

As Vikings, we told ourselves we were fighting the likes of the Monterrey Jaguars. Or possibly the Pecos Ponies. School pride was everything. I know. I was there. And I got the t-shirt! (Seriously, I had the Valley View Vikings t-shirt. I think I still have it somewhere.)

Although, I didn’t end my grade school days at Valley View, I will always be a Viking! I will be a Viking because that’s where my memories are (from 1979 to early 1985). That’s where my friends are.

Pretty sure things are a lot different at Valley View today than they were back in 1980s. Pretty sure, there are no more atomic bomb drills. Pretty sure, there are no more gigantic wooden paddles (with holes in it) hanging in the principle's office. Pretty sure, there are no more 25 cent cartons of milk. Pretty sure, those were the best times, regardless.

Some flash memories through the years:

First Grade:

The year that thought me that life is sometimes short. I remember the day when we were told as a class that a classmate had been killed by a drunk driver as she sat on the curb in front of her house.

Second Grade:

Girls. (do I need to say more?)

Third Grade:

Becoming a Latch Key Kid. After missing the van to the Building Bears Learning Center (no relation to the stuffed toy company), I refused to go to the after school day care after that. My mother took a chance and gave me a key to our apartment at Columbia Manor. A new chapter of life began: learn phone code of one ring, hang up, two rings, and its safe to answer; no you can’t make tea without turning on a stove; and, run to turn off TV when the door bell rings so strangers think no one’s home alone.

Fourth Grade:

The Math and Science teacher tears up when I respect him enough to call him by his real name. All the kids called him Mr. Boring. (get it? Like he’s boring and shit). I clearly remember when my mother informed me his name is Mr. BOREM. I was so embarrassed by it that I never called him Boring again. Let’s say that an average C Math student got a B that year!

Fifth Grade:

Mr. Cannon would tell stories from World War Two or as he said it, “double-u double-u 2”. He told stories of how he had to “kill the Japs” and fought in the “jungles of Saipan.” He would regale us with stories of how his thumb got blown off by a “jap grenade” and he could now remove it and put it back (this was followed by a visual demonstration).

Sixth Grade:

The year that broke the streak. My home room teacher that the kids had nicknamed Ms. Whore hated me. Or at least judged me for being a trouble maker and I was nothing of the kind. For the record I was a good kid. Yet, like any boy, there were incidents of mischief. (It’s not my fault that she groped herself as she read the book, Summer of the Monkeys) My mother tried to get her to change her opinion and give me a break. That failed. In the end, I would be transferred to the “other” school. I still wish she hadn’t done it.

Two Girls at One Time!

2011-01-24T19:15:00.000-08:00

I discovered girls quite early. Did I really discover them? It wasn’t like I was wearing a dusty leather jacket, bull whip and felt fedora searching some ancient desert looking for them. Nor was I reading legendary hieroglyphics about how to unlock some treasure known as “girls.” The discovery more or less found me. And then, there would be the times, the many times, these so-called “discoveries” would trigger some deathly booty trap (you mean booby trap). Yeah, booby trap! Forcing me to run, run away fast and fight for my sanity. Looking back, it would have been easier to avoid large rolling balls and half-naked murderous natives — a lot easier!

Yet, I know for a fact that I was consciously aware of girls, their Mary Janes and knee socks, as early as the Second Grade. 1980. I silently observed them from afar. One had definitely caught my attention. She had long blond hair, dimples and blue eyes. Yeah, those sparklers were blue.

Saturday nights, I would sneak back to my room to watch Barbara Mandrell and Mandrell Sisters Show. Although Barbara was a blond, it was her sisters Louise and Irlene that floated my boat. I thought Irene was HAWT! The three of them would wear those skin tight pants and wear really glossy lip gloss. Irene was goofy and a bit ditsy but she had that Colonel Wilma Deering flare to her. My mother caught me watching the show once. She asked about it and I quickly replied I was waiting for CHiPs. She bought it. Yet, she reminded me that CHiPs was on Sunday night.

Then, like Howard Carter, a major discovery found me. Sitting in Mrs. Carrell’s Second Grade classroom, Jenny and Katie began to stare. (Technically, their names were not Jenny and Katie. I have changed their names to protect their innocence or possibly protect mine. wink- wink.) The two girls flanked me; one on the right, one on the left. I was biting the eraser of my number two pencil, trying to ponder the answer to the difficult mathematical problem of 124 divided by 2, or something like that, when I noticed both girls looking at me and giggling. I rubbed my nose making sure I wasn’t dangling a booger and went back to my math problem. After they continued to stare, giggle and point in my direction, I lifted my hand forming a self-conscious point to my chest and mouthed the word, “me?” The two girls nodded. I immediately became paranoid. I checked my shoe laces. Damn! Velcro! Laughable, I know, but why today? I checked my hair. It was its usual bowl cut mop. It felt normal. I checked my zipper. Docking bay door was closed. Why were these chicks looking at me?

The rest of the events are vague so I’ll try and recall them the best I can. I think the answer would come in the form of a passed note. The two girls had scribbled on a small piece of wide ruled paper the question, “Can we be your girlfriend?” Hell yeah! I thought. But my body reacted differently. I acted dumbfounded. My heart pounded. My mind raced. I closed the note and opened it again. I looked to both Jenny and Katie. Both smiled like those girls on the Price Is Right. I looked to them and nodded. Jenny and Katie’s eyes blossomed with happiness.

An hour later, I sat on the playground and Jenny and Katie walked up and joined me. We laughed. We joked. I played hard to get. I tried to sneak a peek at their underwear. Damn shorts-under-skirts rule! I told them I’d walk them home. She smiled and both girls pecked me on the cheek.

As I walked back into Valley View, Shawn asked why I was hanging out with Jenny and Katie. I turned, tugged at my cuff, as only James Bond could do and responded, because I’m one sexy bitch! (okay, that’s not what I said.) My real response was “’cuz I always do two girls at one time.”

Where’s his Head, Shawn!?

2011-01-21T17:56:00.000-08:00

When I was 6 years old, there was only one thing I cared about. Star Wars. I had only seen the movie maybe two times by mid-1978. But I had the Storybook, 45 record and the coloring books. I was a Star Wars expert (for a 6 year old anyways).

During the summer of 1978, my great Aunt and Uncle Viv and Wade made their annual visit to New Mexico from Peoria Illinois. They knew how much I loved Star Wars so my Uncle Wade drove me over to the Kmart on Hobbs and Main and gently walked me to the toy department. He had heard that Star Wars had some new action figure toys out. We entered the toy isle to find hundreds of action figures on the pegs and in displays around the toy department. I started to look through them and got really excited that I could get Darth Vader (with a lightsaber that slid out from his arm) or a Stormtrooper. Per the back of the card, there were 12 different figures in all. He didn’t buy me a few. He bought them all. It wasn’t even Christmas. We left that store with all 12 figures and that was one of the happiest days of my life.

We went back to our apartment (a duplex-style house on the old Walker Air Force Base now converted into Roswell Industrial Air Center). The place was always cold even in the summer. It was cinder block and had black tile floors. No amount of rugs would keep the floors warm to bare feet. It was hard to hang posters and pictures because the walls felt and looked like concrete. I remember sitting in the living room in front of our new 1977 Zenith and ripping all those carded figures open and proceeding to have large gun and lightsaber battles. Even little Jawas weren’t safe from Darth Vader’s blade. (If I could go back in time, I’d convince my Uncle that he needed to buy me a second set to leave Mint on the Card, but I digress).

Across the street, a friend of my mother (who she worked with) and her son lived in a similar but larger version of our duplex concrete apartment. Thus, for the early parts of my childhood he was my best friend. We’d ride bikes and explore the train tracks that were just outside the fence line of RIAC. We bragged about new toys. I would show off the Star Wars figures. He would show off either the Space 1999 starship or Micronauts. During one afternoon while I was playing with one of his Micronauts and he was happy having gun battles with Han Solo, he asked if he could borrow it. My first response was “hell no!” Star Wars was the world to me. There was nothing I loved more than those figures. I also didn’t loan many toys as I didn’t have much and took great care in my toys. Yet, after him begging and saying I could borrow all of his Micronauts, I reluctantly agreed.

Days went by. I was worried about my Han Solo but I convinced myself that he was in good hands and I had his toys thus we'd be all good, right?

I went outside and saw him playing. I walked over and asked nicely, "Can I have my Han Solo back?" He looked at me with concern. He stumbled and slowly replied, "sure." My blood pressure rose but I was anxious to get my Han Solo back. Besides, Luke and Ben were not able to rescue the Princess without him. He went inside and returned a few minutes later. He extended his arm and I opened my hand ready to get my beloved Han Solo figure back. Plop. Han Solo fell to my palm. "Where's his Head, Shawn!!??" Han Solo had been beheaded. Shock then anger then sorrow. Shawn shook his head. "You're kidding me, right?" I said. (now the following may or may not have been said. remember I was only 6.) "I loan you one of my most favorite figures and you have the balls to return him with no fuckin' head!" I repeated myself. "Where's his fuckin' head!?" As I started to inspect the rest of Han Solo, his arm fell off. Jesus! Han Solo just lost his fuckin' arm!! Moving his legs back and forth, his left leg fell to the ground. Shit! Han Solo is now a paraplegic! What horrors did this action figure go through to suffer such violence and damage.

He knew I was not only sad but angry. He told me I could keep his Micronauts. Thing was, I didn't want is farking Micronauts. I wanted my Han Solo. I was so distraught that I dropped Han Solo and ran home. I told my mother and then I cried. She promised to get me a new one but that day never came. It taught me a lesson and forced me to be a selfish bastard that never shared his toys again. There were many many times that I said, "no way Jose" when someone wanted to borrow my Snake Eyes (the one with two Uzis) or Go-bots.

This sad story would get a happy ending. 15 years later, I would find a Han Solo at Starbase 10 in Albuquerque. He cost $20 bucks but he was worth it. He's in my displace case right now. And no, you can't borrow him!

Give me my Bear Claw, Dammit!

2011-01-20T13:45:00.000-08:00

Growing up, we weren’t the wealthiest family on the block. As I stated before, I was raised by a single mother who worked her butt off to support us. Since my mother worked six days a week, I was raised by a good helping from my Grandmother, babysitters, surrogate grandparents (i.e. the great and wonderful Grandma Combs) and reruns of Happy Days.

During the early 1980s, we lived in an aging apartment complex named Columbia Manor. It was flanked by two open fields and sat across the street from Roswell High School. The complex looked as if it was possibly two different buildings converted into one larger entity. The architecture was a blending of Colonial meets 1960’s flare and angles. Part of the building stood on stilts above a lower part, making a lower case t. Between the two major buildings was a football field sized court yard with twelve large oak trees. (Several were climbing favorites and I would hide in them from time to time.) The swimming pool sat at the far end of the courtyard, next to the management office. Outside the small laundry room, a Dr.Pepper machine sold cans of soda for only 25 cents. That machine is why my favorite soda growing up was Dr. Pepper. Never was a Pepsi drinker although Roswell was the site of a large Pepsi bottling plant and employed most of the area. The manager was this wrinkly old lady with short silver hair that looked like Jane Wyman and the mother on Bewitched. Her office was dark and smelled of cigarette smoke. It always scared me a bit to go inside. She had an affinity for clocks. I remember one in particular; it was a clock of a wino leaning on a light post and he would sip from his bottle in sync with the second hand. The bottle and Lamp Post were lit with an eerie pale orange. I would stare at it for minutes. It was the first time I’d ever seen something like that. (she also had one of a cat, that the eyes would go back in forth, along with the tail.)

The one thing that made this apartment complex memorable was its proximity to Tastee Freeze, Long John Silvers and a Doughnut Shop. I can’t remember the name of the Doughnut Shop so I’ll call it Sunrise Doughnuts. This name may actually be the name but I can not state that for fact. The shop would later get beat out by the Daylight Doughnuts that would open down the street in the old Kentucky Fried Chicken building. Yet, during those early years of the 1980s, my mother would give me a couple bucks every Sunday Morning before Church and I would walk over to Sunrise Doughnuts to get a Bavarian Crème Long John and a Bear Claw. (Mine was the Bear Claw of course!)

On one of those Sunday mornings, I walked over to Sunrise Doughnuts and waited to be called on. I waited. And waited. I must also preface that I wasn’t a very outgoing little kid. I was quite shy and very rarely spoke out. I wasn’t more than 8 years old at this time. So, there I stood, standing there in my pressed collar shirt and clip-on tie. (We were going to church after all.) The two old ladies behind the glass case were the same two old ladies there every Sunday. With my two dollars in hand, I would look to them and wait for the all important cue: “Can I help you?” “Yes, please, one Baffarian (kid’s lisp) Crème Long John and one chocolate Bear Claw.” But that morning, the cue never happened. I looked at the two crusty wenches. They looked right at me and then directed their, “Can I help you?” to the stupid adults behind me. I grew angry and upset. I knew those dumb doughnut slingers recognized me. I was the same cute Norman Rockwell kid that patronized your establishment every fucking Sunday! (again, I don’t think this was the actual language in my 8 year old mind but we’ll pretend.) I waited. And I waited longer. I stepped closer to the glass case. I stepped to the counter. Each and every time, those D-holes ignored me. Give me my Bear Claw Dammit!

I ran from the Doughnut Shop. I ran home, across the dirt field and through the chain link fence of the court yard. Running through the sliding glass door of the apartment’s patio, my mother asked, “what took so long?” I had been gone nearly thirty minutes. (Sunrise Doughnuts was only 100 feet away.) Tears were forming in my eyes. My mother knew I was upset. She looked to my hands and saw the two dollars still clutched in my little fist. She asked me what happened. I shouted, “they wouldn’t help me!” She said “what?!” I explained that I waited and waited. Now, she was angry. She told me to get in the car. “We’re driving over there right now!” My mother yanked the steering wheel and entered their small lot with a sharp turn, flipped the engine off and pulled the emergency break. She hopped out and I instinctively followed behind. I still had the two dollars in my hand. When the lady asked her “can I help you?” within moments of us walking through the door she said, “yeah, where’s your manager?” Once the manager appeared, my mother became a bulldog. She spoke loudly so all the customers could hear. She ripped into them like a blaster goes through Stormtrooper Armor. If that moment had a soundtrack, it would have been calked full of slapping and punching noises of any Bruce Lee movie. She verbally. Kicked. Their. ASS! She spun on her heel and grabbed my hand and we left.

I don’t recall how long it was before I got the courage to go back and try it again. But I know, I was never ignored there again. The way I remember it was, those old crows always said, “sorry for making you wait Mr. Whitfield. Your Bear Claw is coming right up, Mr. Whitfield. It’s still warm and gooey, Mr Whitfield.“ Yeah. Take that Bitches!!

One RAD BMX!!

2011-01-19T09:34:00.000-08:00

It was the RAD-est BMX racer ever! It was smoke silver with red pads and black mag wheels. It arrived one Christmas. 1984. No, maybe 1983. Yeah, 1983! Either way, the bike was my most precious possession. For the first time, I had something other kids didn’t. They envied it and I was proud.

I took the bike to the pits on Sunset Ave. I raced it behind the ALCO. Rode it home from school everyday and went to friends’ houses on the weekends. For an eleven year old boy, it was the closest thing to a car that any sixteen-year-old would envy. It gave me freedom to ride to the Five and Dime to buy gum for only a penny. Blazed through empty fields on dusty dirt trails. Popped curbs around Roswell High School and hopped down the steps in the back of the school. I would peddle as fast as I could through the Fire Lane and shoot out into the parking lot by the apartment complex we lived in.

One Sunday in 1984, it would be taken from me. It would haunt my days and fueled my nightmares.

Riding back from CB’s house one Sunday afternoon, unknown to me, I was being followed. My care free attitude and naïve love for life at eleven. I rode home like any other: down Roswell High’s fire lane, through the lot, across Penn Ave and into the long parking lot of Columbia Manor Apartments. I circled around the end of the building and up on the sidewalk, weaved through the gate and popped the kickstand. I opened the sliding glass door to find my mother on the couch watching some old western on KCAL.

I was inside no more than a few minutes. Maybe only 2 minutes. My mother was asking if I wanted to go over to Tastee Freeze and get a couple Banana Splits. The phone rang. It was a guy that my mother worked with and happened to live six apartments down. I can’t remember his name, so I’ll call him Danny. Danny was asking if I knew where my bike was. He spoke really fast. He stated he saw me ride home a few minutes earlier. My mother asked me to get my bike. Danny is talking hurriedly saying he’s looking at two Hispanic men loading what appears to be my bike into their late model Chevy Monte Carlo. I pull the curtains back to find my bike GONE! Someone took my bike! My mother panicked. She hung up the phone but not before Danny said he was calling 911.

I ran outside, looking for my bike. Who would have done this? Tears rolled down my face. My mother tried to calm me down. Within minutes, a police car sat in front of our apartment. Danny was talking to them. The police officer was talking on the radio. Danny had given the police not only the car description but the license plate and descriptions of the two men. The officer took the report and within 15 minutes had the suspects. My heart raced. Thank God! My bike was found! I looked to the officer with eager anticipation. He shook his head as the other officer on the radio stated, “negative on silver BMX bike.” Where is my bike? What did the assholes do with it? (I don’t think I was using that language in my 11-year-old mind but I will say I was.) Within minutes, these dildo-heads had stolen my bike and ditched it somewhere. My sorrow and anger returned. The officer left stating they would continue to search the area looking for my bike.

Hours turned to days. Days turned to weeks. I never saw the bike again. I still, to this day, wish I could find those dipshits and punch them in the face until my knuckles bleed. Those shit-eaters not only stole but they scarred a little boy’s view of the world. Those days after it was stolen, my mind raced. What could have I done differently? Should I have brought it inside? Or just left the curtains open to the patio. I internalized the trauma with daydreams of Batman and Robin swinging down to stop the thieves. I envisioned myself as a dark vigilante catching them in the act and throwing ninja stars into their chest and arms. As the years went on, I healed. But I still think about that bike and that day, even 27 years later. And I still wish I could knee the little pig fuckers in the balls!!

The Viking Years Pt. 1

2011-01-12T17:25:00.000-08:00

I attended Valley View Elementary from the years 1979 to 1985. It was a K-6 Grade School. Starting in the First Grade and ending just shy of completing the Sixth Grade, I was a proud Viking. Valley View Vikings. I did not attend Kindergarten there as my mother had sent me to a private school called Child Garden(?). (the only memory of that school was witnessing my first solar eclipse while playing on the playground.)

The school was a L-shaped building with the grades 1-3 in the lower part of the L and 4-6 grade in the upper part of the L. Made from red brick and having the features of large windows in every room, the school smelled like the 1960s. The bricks gave it a sturdy construction and security to the hallways, when in the 2nd and 3rd grade, we ran and ducked in part of our Nuclear Disaster Drills. Those were the years when the USA had boycotted the Olympics in the USSR. And the Russians would do the same in 1984. Tensions were high. Soviets were great bad guys. Second only to Nazis. (back on track) The fire alarm were sound more like a klaxon and we'd run to the halls and squat in the fetal position. Not sure if we'd have survived a nuclear attack but I was only 8 or so.

I once told someone that story and they thought it odd we had Nuclear War Emergency procedures in such a small cowboy town like Roswell New Mexico. The theory and ideology was Roswell, although Walker Air Force Base had closed in the late 60s, was still a target on Russian, uh I mean Soviet, missile charts. The reason was Roswell's I A C or Industrial Air Center, had one of the longest commercial runways in the world at the time. It had been built decades earlier to compliment the B-29 Bombers that were part of the 509th Strategic Bombing Wing. During the 1970s and 1980s the runways were still being used to test commercial and military aircraft. In the end, it made a bunch of kids from a forgotten town feel like they were important, I guess.

Sometime in the early 1980s, 3rd or 4th grade, construction on a gymnasium was completed. I remember everyone being really excited as we could have PE indoors during cold spells and we could move away from the very small cafeteria. I remember it was so vast and huge. (not so much when I would return in my High School years) The north wall had the folded bench tables and wall painted in a Rainbow scheme. (I wonder now what the PC decor would be as rainbows aren't just known for Unicorn riding little girls) Even had our 5th Grade Class Photo shot inside it, moving it from the Library where we had the pictures taken in the past. Ropes hung from the rafter beams; Dodge ball wars were fought; lunch was served on segmented trays there everyday; it was the site of the 1982 staged musical with CB as E.T.;and, it housed after-school Break Dance challenges, where spinning on your back and crawling like a centipede on cardboard gave boys cool reputations.

Geek is Good!

2011-01-11T18:49:00.000-08:00

I heard today that Geek is Good. Geek is In. Geek is Cool.

Well, its about time!

Although, I wouldn't trade my childhood for anything (besides maybe changing a few things that I know now of course. Oh, and buying some stock in Starbucks or Apple Computers) But maybe Geek could have been popular when I was a kid.

I can't recall how many times that prissy girls or sporty guys on the playground would make fun of me because I wanted to play Justice League over 500 (a game of one person throwing a football at a crowd of recievers. The thrower would yell how much its worth. If caught, thats the points you'd earn. The first person to 500 would become the thrower.)

The cool dudes and the popular chicks would make fun of my Superman II lunch box or Star Wars velco sneakers. The names were usually just nerd or goober. It was okay. I loved my lunch box and my shoes more than them.

There was a time when I was about 23ish (say 1995). I was collecting Star Wars toys and selling my leftovers at a thing called a Toy Show (eBay eventually killed the novelty of selling toys at Holiday Inns) and looking up to find someone asking a question on a near mint 1979 Star Wars Jawa figure, complete with "cloth" cape and gun. The voice was rather soft for a guy. To my surprise, it was a rather attractive girl. We started talking and let's say flirting. Then the guy behind her (I would learn was her boyfriend) was totally giving her the "I'm bored can we go now babe?" vibe. I pondered this paradox like feeling that I found the first instance of a hawt girl liking Star Wars and the boyfriend thinking it lame and nerdy. (for the record I had come across other girls that liked Star Wars and Comics, but this one was actually good looking!) If I had the balls back then I would have asked for her phone number. Who cares what the boyfriend thought?

Fast forward 15 years. Now everywhere I turn around, there's actually runway model hot girls liking Star Wars and comics. And they don't hide it. Geek is the new Cool. We aren't the minority anymore.

I do admit that I was so blinded by the fact that the really cute girls didn't like the things that I liked, that I actually overlooked one in High School. And she was captain of the Varisty Cheerleading Squad. Who'd thunk, eh?

It's Slick as Snot Out There!

2011-01-10T07:30:00.000-08:00

Waking up to snow was, and always will be, the best part of growing up. Why was it such a big deal? Well, growing up in Roswell New Mexico meant it didn't happen very often. Second, it usually meant that we didn't need much to bring the town to its knees and for school to be cancelled.

I was spoiled when it came to snow. This is something that my daughter will not enjoy as Denver is much more familiar to the fluffy white powder. See, unless Denver gets over 24 inches, they don't even notice. Golf courses still book tee times. And cute girls still wear cutoff jeans with a parka. And thus today, with nearly 10 inches on the sidewalks and streets, Denver Public Schools were still running like nothing happened. Not so, when I was young.

I don't remember the specific dates but usually the snow fell in a few inches. We'd quickly turn on KBIM Channel 10. The big story would be the 2 or 3 inches of snow that hit the ground and it was always followed by "schools will be closed today." This statement was normally followed by a quick arm tuck followed by a exclamation of "yes!" I would run back to my room and throw Pitfall into the Coleco Gemini(side story: yes, I had a Coleco Gemini. I like every other 10 year old wanted an Atari 2600. Yet the dang thing was too expensive. But Santa (or Santa's proxy) brought me a Coleco Gemini. Basically a Atari 2600 clone. It took Atari cartridges and other than a different controller design it played no different. What can you do, right?)

As I was playing my game and trying to get Pitfall Harry over the crocodiles, my mother still was preparing to go to work. Although schools closed, the business world did not. She would leave and I would ask if I could go outside later. She would agree but only on the promise I would "bundle up."

Snow days were the coolest.

One that I do remember more than others when the area was blanketed by at least 6 inches. Thinking it was early 80s, 1983 or 1984. My mother had gone off to Chewnings to work and not only was it a "snow day" but with so much snow, the next day was looking to be a "snow day" too! I bundled up as I promised and first tried riding my bike over to CB's house. That didn't work out to well as even BMX tires wont cut through snow pack. His house was about four or five blocks away. I ditched the bike and set out on foot. The journey included but not limited to: sidewalks, streets, an open field and alleys. As I started across the field, I began to reenact the classic scene from Empire Strikes Back. I struggled through the snow drifts. Fell to the ground. Crawling and lifting my head, "Ben? Ben!?" Luke, you will go to the Dagobah system and learn from the Jedi Master who instructed me. I laugh at the memory wondering if anyone was watching this 12 year old kid falling in the snow and thinking I was really in trouble.

It took about an hour to trek through the white stuff. Once at CB's house, we prepared his front yard for the ultimate snow ball fight. We built trenches, snow walls and cache of snowballs. Hours of preparation and the battle lasted exactly 3 minutes 47 seconds. (obviously we didn't time it but it was very quick) Covered in snow. Our jeans and clothes soaked with icy water. We raced inside to warm up by the crackling fire. Once dried out and warmed, I would head home.

In the days prior to cell phones, I called my mother before I left, when I arrived at CB's, when I left CB's and when I arrived back home. Each time I called to inform my mother I was safe and leaving, she would say, be careful out there, "It's as slick as snot." She said this when it snowed regardless if I was walking, riding a bike or catching a ride from someone's parents. And she continues to say it even today as I load my daughter in the car to get her to school. "Be careful, it's slick as snot out there!"

It's the milage!

2010-12-10T08:55:00.000-08:00

As Indiana Jones once said, “It’s not the years; it’s the mileage.” My body is older but my mind hasn’t aged a day over twelve. That sounds bad; so, let’s say seventeen. Yeah, that still sounds bad too. Let’s say, I have the wisdom of a middle age man but have the sensibilities of that young teenager. I still get excited to run to the comic shop. I sill lay in the floor to flip the pages of a Teen Titan comic. (It’s the getting back up that’s hard.) I run to the toy isle first, before buying groceries at Wal-Mart. I pretend to be Jedi when the automatic doors open at the Target. And I relive Saturday Mornings by watching my Challenge of the Super Friends DVDs. It was life’s adventure that wore my body down not the passage of time.

“I’m a Toys R Us kid and I refuse to grow up.” I refuse to grow up if it means I can not relish the joy I had when I wore a Fireman’s helmet and rode along with the guys in Emergency 51, or when I ran in slow motion singing nah, nah, nah na na na, or pretended my bike was an self-aware vehicle like KITT on Knight Rider, or using a ruler in substitution of a Stormtrooper blaster, or swinging Grandma’s yard stick as my Katana sword against Storm Shadow.

Every December my mother attended a Shoe Show Convention in Albuquerque. It was an exciting time. It usually meant that my Grandmother would drive to Roswell to watch me for a few days. But that years, Grandma couldn’t make it. So I stayed with my Mother’s friend Donna. I recall not being too excited about staying with Donna. She felt more like a stranger than family. She had a small apartment and I slept on the couch. Yet, it was that seventh birthday week when I first peeked at a Playboy because Donna’s boyfriend happened to have a coffee table filled with them. He invited her over for a small gathering of friends at a BBQ. Sneaking glances as the adults walked into the kitchen or onto the patio. I opened it up; right to the staples. The odor of newsprint and cheap cologne samples. I remember feeling naughty and confused. I just remember the big dark patch of hair below Ms. November’s tummy. It was the ‘70s after all. Fur was in!

When my mother returned to pick me up I ran into her arms. I exclaimed, “what did you get me!?” She pulled the Toys R Us bag from her purse. Toys R Us had the really cool toys. Roswell, being the tiny hole in the dessert it was, had no cool super toy stores, only the pathetic toy aisle at K-mart and ALCO. I reached into the bag and pulled out the Kenner Micro Collection Darth Vader Tie Interceptor! It was freaking awesome. The wings pulled off, and the back opened to show a tiny Darth Vader seated in the cockpit. I had never seen such a toy before in person. Toys R Us had the toys that I could only dream about in the Sears Wish List Catalog. (I still have the tiny tie fighter in a box in the garage.)

The last Shoe Show that my Mother would attend would be when I was a Sophomore in High School. I recall asking her if she was going to stop by the Toys R Us. She said I was too old for Toys R Us. I said, no I’m not! I refuse to grow up!

TRON, Not in my Pants!

2010-12-06T08:31:00.000-08:00

Twenty Eight years ago, a movie debuted with cutting edge computer graphics, unique filmmaking and centered around an alternative computer generated world. Long before The Matrix, TRON did it first! Now, after so many years, the invention of the internet, handheld digital music devices, e-readers and tiny mobile computers (ala iPhone), we get the TRON sequel. Like 1982, the toys are in stores, video games retell the story and everywhere you turn there’s some kind of TRON promotion. Now, I remember the original. I remember the day I sat in the theater watching the kick-ass special effects. I saw it at the Plains Park Twin Theater by the ALCO. It was within a bikes ride of our apartment. It was the new theater, being built in 1980 or so. I watched them build it. The babysitter’s son and I rode our bikes to the site and threw rocks into the wet cement of the sidewalk. When the contractor came around and caught us hovering over the pebble strewn section, we swore it was some kids on skate boards and we chased them off. He believed us and we talked and watched him fix it. We asked if we could put our initials in the soft concrete and he politely denied us the opportunity.

Actually, the first movie I ever saw at that theater was The Fox and the Hound. My mother and I went on a Sunday afternoon and found that it was sold out. We asked about the next showing and it was sold out. We returned the following weekend to find it also sold out. After weeks of trying, we finally got in and saw it.

If memory serves correct, I think a group of friends and I rode our bikes to the theater on a hot July day and watched TRON at a matinee screening. After the movie, we rode over to ALCO. It was that fateful day that we all got caught stealing TRON figures. The guys took several figures over to the garden center and began opening them and putting them down their pants. For the record, I personally never opened any nor physically put any of the figures down my pants. Yet, when a diligent employee spotted us, ran to our location and shouted for us to freeze, the guys ran. Except me. They hopped on their bikes and were gone. Except me. I stood there. Why? I don’t recall. I don’t know if I was a deer in headlights or figured I hadn’t actually done anything wrong. The only problem was my ten year old mind wasn’t aware of a little legal vernacular called “accessory” to said crime. They took me in the back and called my mother. She had to come down to the store and oversee me home. The few things I remember after that was her loading my bike into the back of the car, the silent car ride home and the lonely time spent in my room. I don’t think I got into any real trouble from the store as we really hadn’t stolen anything. Outside of opening merchandise, none of us made it out of the store with any toys. Because when the employee spotted us, everyone ditched the figures under bags of fertilizer and ran. I remember this as the manager had all the toys in the office when my mother arrived. It’s sad really that I have such a bad memory along with such good memories of TRON. (for karma, I bought several of those figures in the weeks following the event.)

For the good memories, that was riding our bikes over to Kathy’s Arcade and spending a week’s allowance of $2 into the TRON arcade game. The Light Cycles was my favorite and the hardest. Shooting the spiders with Tron’s arm was the dreaded part. I think that game stayed at Kathy’s, along with the Star Wars Death Star Trench Run, until Junior High.

To think I was ten when the original debuted and now 38 when its sequel will premiere. Yet, I still feel like that ten year old and that’s the best part!

My Grandmother

2010-12-02T08:22:00.000-08:00

The first week of December always reminds me of my grandmother. Her birthday is December First. We shared December birthdays; and when hers came around, I knew mine wasn’t too far off. December birthdays aren’t the greatest as Christmas is right around the corner and usually celebrations get overlooked in the hectic rush of holiday shopping and decorating. Yet, I never minded. I can luckily state: I never got a crappy birthday gift. It actually made December an exciting time in my childhood. From Thanksgiving to New Years were always happy times. Yesterday got me really thinking of my grandmother and how I miss her. She was a second mother as she practically raised me alongside my hard-working single mother. I didn’t have two sets of grandparents like most kids. And I didn’t mind. It was just Grandmother. Grandfather had died in 1966; long before I was born. Yet, I often stared at his photo on our dining room cabinet and Grandmother’s bookcase. They would tell me stories of how he was a gruff ex-Navy man and was very old school strict and disciplined. I definitely wish I could have met him or talked with him. There were the stories of how he went to the neighbors house with a rifle, told the man if his dog chased my 7 year old mother to school again, he’d shoot it! Or the time, when he was displeased with how my mother, uncle and aunt washed the supper dishes, he made them wash every dish in the house, emptying out cupboards and the china cabinet. From that moment, they never did that chore half-assed again. I felt sorry for Grandmother as I think she missed him terribly. Yet, she was not some tea sipping granny either. She managed rental properties; she pumped her own gas; she went to the Sears to haggle over a washer; she went to church every Sunday in a 1966 green Rambler; she went to the newsstand every week to buy my comics; she watered and mowed her own lawn; and, she had an opinion when provoked. I remember when I bought my first suit in High School. It was one of those hip Miami Vice inspired suits that was an olive green and had the waist jacket that crossed in the front. She looked right at me and said, “the color looks like baby shit.” I think that was the first time I heard her cuss. I was shocked I didn’t know whether to be discouraged or laugh out loud. I respected her opinion that day but I still bought the suit. I even got my Senior Pictures done in it! I should have kept it just for that memory. Most of my memories of Grandmother are her clipping coupons on Sunday morning; me reading comics in the floor with her oscillating fan blowing on me; her taking me to TG&Y to buy a Star Wars figure and her shock that they cost $2.49 each. She would exclaim, “highway robbery!!” But she still bought them and took the time to ask if I was missing any ones I wanted. She was a great grandmother. She was my Grandmother. She died in 1999, just months before the birth of my daughter. I miss you. And I love you, Grandma!

Yardstick Lightsabers

2010-09-10T22:16:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that I wasn't a rich kid. We lived in apartments all my life. Whether it was the RIAC housing, Columbia Manor, Valley Encantada or Saddle Creek, my mother busted her ass to raise me.

When Star Wars blasted its way into my life in 1977, there wasn't a year or day that I didn't think about it or play Jedi or Stormtrooper. One of the coolest weapons from the movies was the Jedi weapon known as the lightsaber. There was a toy back in those days. It was nothing more than a flashlight mounted to an inflatable tube. If you waved it through the air, small air vents would cause a hum noise like those in the movies. I knew of a few friends that had them way back then; and although they were freaking cool, there was still something odd about the toy.

Unfortunately, I never owned one of those toys. So, my creative mind turned my Grandmother's yardstick into my lightsaber. I spent hours running around her backyard in Alamogordo swinging it back and forth. I would generate the hum noise myself and even the spark and clash sounds as it struck obstacles in my path. Now, since my lightsaber was nothing more than a thin piece of wood, it was prone to snap or break. And my Grandmother was usually never happy about it. It would be followed with a scolding, how I should not play so rough and a trip down to the TG&Y to buy another one. I would be told not to play with it as it was used to measure things. Yet, that wouldn't last too long and before my Grandmother knew it, I was outside fighting Rancors and Imperials.

Oh, I never owned the Kenner Stormtrooper Blaster either. But, a ruler held between the thumb and forefinger worked well enough. It was long enough that I could even grab the base with my other hand and pretend I was shooting Rebel Fleet Troopers or Jawas. Although, I wish I had the official toys, I got by just fine with a few measuring sticks and my imagination. And there's not a day I regret swinging my Yardstick Lightsabers...

Refills .39¢

2010-08-29T09:38:00.000-07:00

Discovered that Circle K has fountain drinks for .79¢, any size, everyday. The nicer stores have a whole wall of brands and flavors. And you can add a squirt of cherry, vanilla or lime for free. The largest drink size is only the 32oz. Yet, like the side of the cup says, The Thirstbuster, it does quench those late day thirsts. It's definitely the best value of the summer. McDs has theirs for a buck. 7-11 sells theirs for $1.19. Now, the real kicker that I think time has forgotten is the affordable refill. None of those deals include a refill. Except 7-11 and they offer a $1.49 refill, any size. What if the drink is only a $1.19? The only drink that the $1.49 refill is even a better deal on is the Super Big Gulp which runs $1.69. For .20¢, its almost not worth lugging the cup back to the store. So I have yet to ever do a refill at 7-11 and I continue to fill landfills with unwanted Super Big Gulp cups.

Summer 1989. Sophomore year at Roswell High had ended. Still hadn't gotten the drive to get a summer job. I worked down at Chewnings doing some of the odd jobs for some pocket cash, once or twice a week. I wouldn't find a job until Junior year summer. Yet, it was a great summer. And for movies. Sitting in the air conditioned Cinema 4 (at the Roswell Mall- the most modern of Roswell's three theaters. I think the first movie I would see at that theater was Breakin 2: Electric Boogaloo) watching Batman with Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson, Cinema 1 & 2 watching the Last Crusade (the last the original Indiana Jones movies). I was able to drive to almost anywhere, anytime as I had my first car - 1979 Ford Fiesta. It wasn't much to look at yet I got me places whole helluva lot faster than my 10 speed. So, I went to the movies often. I went to the Tastee Freeze when I wanted. But the best thing that summer was my Sun Country Mini Mart drink bottle. One would buy the bottle (a 32oz tube with a straw) for $1.99. Then, every refill, anytime, any Sun Country Mart, anywhere was only .39¢! I would get that thing filled up sometimes 2 or 3 times a day. That was a value! Just a quarter, dime and three pennies (with tax). There was a Sun Country at the corner of Sunset and Poe. This was the one I would visit the most. I would be sitting at home watching MTV (with real music on it) and I get a thirst. I would hop into the Fiesta and drive down the road. Within 5 minutes I would have my cold 32ozs of Coke. The deal would continue for summers after too. Eventually, I think I had about three of the bottles. So if one was dirty, I would have a couple backups.

Oh, I wish I could get .39¢ refills today. I guess I can't complain too much about a .79¢ drink. It is 22 years later....

Stormtroopers, Dark Lords and Jiffy Pop!

2010-08-14T20:56:00.000-07:00

1977. I was five. One movie. Changed my life forever. Star Wars.

I still remember the first time I saw Star Wars. Well, I saw the first 30 minutes.

My mother and her boyfriend took me to see it at the Drive In somewhere in Roswell. I remember my mother telling me to get my PJs on and grab my pillow. Although the memory has some blurry spots, I think he (mother's boyfriend) drove a station wagon. I don't recall us owning a station wagon. Now that I think about it, I think my mother was driving an 1971 VW beetle at the time. The following year she would buy a 1978 AMC Pacer. It had door handles that looked like luggage latches. (straying...)

I knew very little about the film going into it. But I had seen some of the TV commercials. By the time Star Wars got to Roswell it was late 1977. I want to say it was September or October when we went. As the PJs were the nice fuzzy kind with feet. I had my pillow and my blanket. We parked and had our snacks. We had brought Jiffy Pop Popcorn that my mother had cooked before we left. I remember her letting me break the foil and being the first to scoop some out. Then, the movie started. The theme squawked over the tiny speaker box. The humongous star destroyer. Chomping jiffy pop. Stormtroopers burst onto the rebel ship. Frighted by the Dark Lord of the Sith. The droids escape. It was the coolest thing I had ever seen. I couldn't look away.

Once the action slowed down and the movie transitioned to Luke's home and his adventure in the cantina, I felt my eyes getting heavy. I don't remember when I faded out but I don't think I got past Han and Millennium Falcon escaping Mos Eisely. I remember Walrus Man loosing his arm so I know saw that part. I sorta regret falling asleep but it was past 10 o'clock at night and I was only five.

I don't remember the next day clearly, but I know I pestered my mother to know how the movie ended. And she probably told me. Within the next few months, I had the picture story book and all of the action figures. I've told the story before, but my great uncle Wade bought all 12 figures early 1978. Even had the vinyl cape Jawa. (he was lost a few weeks later, sad to say.) I played Star Wars on the playground of Valley View. I never wanted to be a Stormtrooper (not until I grew up), instead, I wanted to be the rebel guys at the beginning of the movie that had to defend the princess's ship. I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from a Star Wars lunch box - the metal one, with the star field and X-wing on the drop down door. (I have a mini replica sitting on the self near my computer as I write this.).

I don't think I saw the movie in its entirety until late 1978 or early 1979 when the movie was on its third or fourth re-release and it was playing down at the Cinema I & II. And of course every time CBS would broadcast it - not until the mid-80s I think. But Star Wars shaped my life and I'm glad it did...

Earliest Memories

2010-08-13T20:26:00.000-07:00

One of my earliest school memories is from Child Garden, near Hobbs and Main. I attended Kindergarten there in 1978. I remember playing on the playground during a solar eclipse. The sky got incredibly dark for the middle of the day. Darker than when the sun goes behind a cloud. Although I was only five, I don't recall being scared or mystified. Perhaps teachers had told us it was normal? I just remember climbing the hot metal ladder to the wavy slide and continuing to play. Beyond knowing I attended the school, I have no memory of teachers or the other children. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures.

First Grade is a blur. I have the class photo and I recognize all the kids. Even remember most of their names. It was 1979. Yet, I struggle to remember any important events. Nothing stands out. If I think of the year, I mostly think of times at my cousins house on Saturdays. I don't necessarily remember those as fond times. I was there cause I had to be not that I chose to be.

Second Grade was an event year. I noticed girls. I remember sitting in Mrs. Carrol's class with JM and K- flanking either side of my desk. They kept looking at me and whispering and giggling. They had decided I was to be their boyfriend. At first, I was embarrassed and confused. But flattered. In the end, it didn't last long. I think our torrid affair lasted a week. Then the two girls magically forgot the events ever happened. Women!

Third Grade, now that was the year that was the foundation to friendships that would continue through Junior High and High School. That was the year I became a latch key kid. My mother had the brilliant idea to put the key on a chain around my neck. Simply put: I lost the key the first day. Day two: it was on a key chain in my pocket to which I never lost a key again. Girls were more attractive and crushes on EF and SP started. Blonds. Dimples. SP was like a little Wilma Deering from Buck Rogers. Who could resist? Neither shared my feelings. If anything I was just the dork. Shy. Misunderstood. The geek who daydreamed more than he achieved.

Couple Only Skate

2010-08-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

So the wife and daughter went on a mother-daughter outing yesterday to the Skate City. After, my daughter runs in to tell me how "mommy fell only a few hundred times" and how she is "totally a good skater." To which I believe it all - both statements. One, the wife is sporting a few hum dinger of bruises on her knees. Two, my daughter never tells a lie. Unless she's trying to get a new pair of skinny jeans from Justice. (story for another time) My daughter tells me the whole tale from their two hours of skating. The only question I could think to ask, "was there a couple only skate?" To which she replied, "No, Dad."

Remember, back when the last week of school was for having fun? Making crafts. Going on field trips to the zoo? Or having parties? with cup cakes? Those were the days of early Grade School. Not anymore. Times change I guess. Budget shortfalls hamper the fun stuff. But I remember that the last week at Valley View in the third grade meant going to the Skating Rink! I don't remember the name of the rink but I do recall smell of the burnt popcorn, the beeps and boops of the Galaga machine in the corner, the disco ball and anticipating and fearing the couples only skate.

Before that time, we (the dudes - CB and SM) would empress both guys and girls alike with daring stunts. Who could skate backwards? Who could skate faster? Who could skate the longest without face planting?

Most of the time it was just us skating in circles to I Love Rock N' Roll by Joan Jett or watching the cute girls skate as Centerfold played by J Geils Band. We (the dudes) dared one another to skate up to one of the girls and purposely run into them. Bonus points if we knocked them down. It wasn't to be malicious or reckless. It was just our way (int those prepubescent years) of getting close to the girls we all admired from afar yet thought of us as dorks and icky boys. I look back now and still get a bit of the shaky knees thinking of knocking EF down. I realize now how childish it was. I do regret it. Yet, I can still feel the nervousness of that moment. Apologizing with utmost sincerity and helping her back up. Taking her hand into mine. Knowing that in a half an hour the dreaded Couple Only Skate would take place and I would be parked on the bench by the foosball table. Girls like EF and SP wouldn't dream of skating with the kid with a Star Wars lunch box and a Teen Titans comic in his backpack. Or so I thought back then.

Thinking back now, I do recall skating in that Couple Only Skate. I think JS grabbed my arm and pulled me into the rink. Perhaps she felt sorry for me. Or maybe she liked dorky boys. Once the fear and anxiety left, it was kinda cool. The dreams of EF or SP doing the same thing next year never happened but I was happy at that moment - in those days. Disco ball casting flickers of light along the floor and walls. Girls and boys skating hand in hand. All trying to act cool. In 1980s irony, I think the song for that skate was Physical by Olivia Newton John. (Hey! it was different back then...)

Robotech Memories: Stand By

2010-05-13T20:57:00.000-07:00

I have kinda allowed the memories to come to a halt. I will table the memories for now but I will not forget them all together. Stand by for some more Robotech tales in the near future. Until then, this blog will return to my other stories and memories. My goal is to bring the blog back to a daily update. Wish me luck!

Robotech Memories: The Miniatures

2010-04-30T19:00:00.000-07:00

This was the theme I used for my Squadron. I just liked the colors and paint scheme.

Robotech Memories: The Miniatures

2010-04-27T20:32:00.000-07:00

The only miniatures I still have are the ones I kept. Yet, I did paint several - about 6-8 - that Rob or JM bought and kept in their personal collections. No idea if they are still around.

But I thought I'd share the ones I own. The following are actually the very first ones I painted. I look at them today and think the paint jobs suck. I was only 15 years old and didn't know how to thin paint nor how to shade or line. Nor were the paint schemes canon or very characteristic of the TV show. Let's say, we had a lot of creative license with the "squadron colors".

This one was always one of my favorites. I really liked the miniature and the pose.

Robotech Memories: RPG III - The Miniatures

2010-04-23T15:30:00.000-07:00

Speaking of the RPG sessions we had. There was another cool item that JM had used during our game that Saturday afternoon and those were miniatures. We used them on this huge table sized hex map. They weren’t just any miniatures - markers for our Veritechs or the ememy Battlepods. No! These were Robotech Miniatures. Okay. They weren't really Robotech Miniatures as there was nothing like that at the time. But they were perfect little Battleloid miniatures! There was ones that looked liked RDF Destroids. One that looked like the Zentraedi Command Battle Pod. I made a comment that there wasn’t any standard Battlepods but at the time I wasn’t aware there wouldn't actually be one. Asking where he got them, JM stated he got them from M&M Hobbies over on 3rd Street. I do remember buying a few there but Greenspray Books also carried them. The miniatures were actually robots from a miniature line called Battletech from Ral Partha . It didn’t matter. The miniatures were dead on to the Robotech Mecha. Within weeks, I started painting miniatures for the first time. (I still have all of those miniatures. And I laugh at the quality of the paint jobs. No shading, nor shadowing - just flat paint, never thinned and no lining.) I bought the Ral Partha paints and tiny little paint brushes. I remember filling our living room with toxic fumes one afternoon as I tried to seal the miniatures with the spray armor coat. Later, I would figure out that it was best to do the final lacquer coat outside. I found I had a good talent and patience to paint them. I even would paint them for Rob and later do some special camouflage ones for JM. As I got more into painting the miniatures, I eventually bought them directly from Ral Partha mail order. Those days you had to write for a catalog, then send in a check with the order and the order would show up a couple weeks later. Pre-Amazon it could take a month or more to get a order of a half dozen miniatures. How would we survive today? I get an order from The War Store in about 3 days. I think some of the last ones I bought were from a new comic book store called Fantasy Five at the corner of 2^nd and Main - in the old Radio Shack location. I hoarded them as I heard they were discontinuing them because of the new Lead scares. They wouldn’t actually be discontinued for a few more years but the Lead would disappear and be replaced with some tin-like metal. I still have a half dozen still sealed in the original Ral Partha packaging. I think I will go dig the miniatures out...

Robotech Memories: RPG II

2010-04-20T16:19:00.000-07:00

After my first gaming session over at JM’s house, I immediately wanted to get my own copies of the books.

Flipping back through my high school memories, going to JM’s was not my first exposure to the Robotech RPG. He definitely introduced me to it. But I revise my memories to say I know I saw these books prior but disregarded them thinking they were too expensive and telling myself I wasn’t really an RPGer. In efforts of turning the pages back, I realized it was Greenspray Books where I first saw them.

Just a few weeks before this, not sure when, but very much hand in hand, I had stumbled upon a new bookstore in the Plains Park Shopping Center called Greenspray Books. I usually add Comics to their title as they did carry some comics and gaming supplies although they weren’t a comic shop per se. Thinking back, I would have discovered it while riding my bike home from the Blockbuster video store. It was a nice store. Simple yet clean. The front was devoted to magazines and racks of paperbacks. The back was the geek section with comics, role-playing games, supplies and T-shirts. Eventually the magazines would disappear and with a year, the store would disappear.

Greenspray Books will play additional pivots to my Robotech obsession. More to that later.

Seeing the books for the first time, I remember thinking they were incredibly cool but why get them if I don’t have a group of friends that would like to play. Yet, once I knew that there was a small group of guys that could play the game, I went directly back to Greenspray to get mine! I believe Rob did the same, as I have this feeling I had to beat him to the store incase there was only one copy. Yet, fate was on our side as there was two copies on the shelf.

I put my name on my book via a name sticker just so I would get my book confused with someone else’s.

Palladium and Kevin Siembieda produced all the books. The books covered every generation of Robotech and later the sequel The Sentinels. With The Sentinels, new manuals would include the REF Field Guide, Return of the Masters and specific adventure campaigns centered around characters or events.. Some we dare to forget like Lancer’s Rockers. I bought the core rule book and the RDF manual on the spot day one. At the counter, I bought some cool sparkly dice from the display case and raced home to start my character building. I would return later and grab the Robotech Southern Cross book and Invid Invasion supplement-which had just recently been released around that time. The books weren’t cheap for a high school freshman but I managed to drop the $9.99 and $6.95 respectively. Thus, I remember Rob and I would share the cost of the campaign books as he would buy Zentraedi Breakout and Ghost Ship while I got the RDF and REF field guides. It’s funny how I think back on these things and wonder where I was getting my money back then. I want to say it had to be allowance. I had no job. No credit card. By this time, I’m guessing I was getting 20 bucks every other week. Either way, it didn’t stop me from getting what I wanted most the time.

I would ride my bike down Pennsylvania and over 2^nd Street to get to the Roswell Public Library (3rd and Penn). They had a Xerox machine and I could make copies for a dime. I must have dropped $10 in that copier from 1988 through 1989. Making copies of the character sheets and the stat trackers and weapon guides. JM had his Mom make copies from her work. Rob did the same. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a parent with easy access to a Xerox. I did mine at the library and I have a vague memory that I may have used Roswell High’s at one point. Thinking or planning Robotech RPGs took most of my waking hours. I would race home to scribble stories. I used the school’s Word Processors to write scenarios. I drew maps on graph paper. I created my own squadron and color schemes for my VFs. I was a nerd. I bound the scenarios in report folders – had a file system for all characters sheets. And the sad thing was: we only played a dozen or so times. It just felt like when I wanted to play, the guys didn't or we'd plan on a Saturday only to have parents say we couldn't do it. Oh well, I still cherish all those memories regardless if I played the game or just prepared to....

Robotech Memories: BREAKING NEWS!

2010-04-19T15:31:00.001-07:00

Carl Macek passed away on Saturday, April 17, 2010 of a heart attack.

Most known for his creation and producing of Robotech in 1985. He would later found Streamline Pictures and begin the new modern era of Japanese Anime to America.

I support anyone reading this to go to Robotech.com and read more: Carl Macek

This is a sad time as we have marked the 25th Anniversary with tragedy as well as preservation.

Robotech Memories: RPG

2010-04-15T18:15:00.000-07:00

I must admit that my first exposure to Robotech: The Role Playing Game was from a Junior named John Mark. I was a Freshman. My friend Rob had an elective with JM and the two had met and shared their interest in Robotech while in class one day. JM had already been playing the RPG and he had invited Rob over to his house to play a scenario. Rob had kept me in mind and asked if I could also join the group. JM had accepted and on a nice Saturday afternoon, we journeyed to JM's house. I had not played a RPG since Craig had bought a D&D bundle from some dude back in the early days of 1982. It was now spring 1988. I was anxious but not at all nervous. Arriving around noon, we had the rest of the day. The plan was to play about 6+ hours. The dining room table was turned into our battlefield and JM had given both Rob and I a crash course on rules and game play. We used characters created by JM and JM was the game master. Additional players was Chris P (JM's best friend) and Matt (JM's future step dad). Even though Matt was like really old (something like 37, the age I'm today), he was really cool and didn't look on us as a bunch of kids but peers.

We commanded our Veritechs and fought Zentraedi Battlepods. We were on a rescue mission. Destroids were cannon fodder. Hand to Hand combat was raged by Battleloids and 50-foot alien giants. Damage points. Missile counts. Attack bonuses. We played for hours. To create a mood JM put the Robotech soundtrack on his parent's stereo as we ventured through the scenario. The nostalgia of that soundtrack was that it was released only on vinyl and he had dubbed it down to Memorex cassette tape. I would beg him for a copy which he gladly gave both Rob and I. Outside of a couple breaks, we didn't stop. We were having too much fun. Even Matt got into the game.

JM's mother was very generous and had left a plethora of snacks and New York Seltzers. I think it was the most content I had ever been while enjoying Robotech. Here we were playing the coolest cartoon I had known in the form of a role playing game, I was enjoying awesome creme sodas and root beers in tiny glass bottles of New York Seltzers and the outside world had been forgotten.

When the warm evening rays of sunshine had disappeared and the table was lit by the artificial tungsten bulb of the overhead lamp, we knew that our adventure had to come to a close. Overall we had not completed our task. We still had not recovered the protoculture matrix nor the abducted doctors. But JM had said not to worry. We'd pick it up the next Saturday.

In reality, we didn't get back to our game for another 4 weeks and when we did, we had to play in JM's room and it just didn't have the magic of our first session. At least we had some New York Seltzers as refreshments. Boy do I miss those little drinks. Yet, while scanning JM's room and bookshelves, I would see something I hadn't seen before. It was a large picture book called Robotech Art I...

Robotech Memories: the books!

2010-04-14T18:13:00.000-07:00

The year 1987 was the next big year for Robotech. Yet it would take the year 1988 for me to realize how big a year it was. Thus, 1988 was the year I discovered the Robotech novelizations and the Role Playing Game. As 1988 began, I was in the last few months of my 9th grade year. Robotech had not been on television in any form of a broadcast in over a year. As I mentioned, my VHS dubs became my Robotech best friend. If I wasn’t watching the afternoon line up of Thundercats or Silver Hawks, I was watching a VHS of Robotech.

I remember my best friend at the time, Rob, had discovered Robotech as well. He’s the one that help me record episodes while I was out of town way back that one summer. Now that I look back, I could have just used the timer on the VCR but I think I do recall that I couldn’t because my mother was recording General Hospital at the time. Yes, GH. And I wanted my Robotech episodes on their own unique Robotech tape. So I knew he could assist even though his parents regularly recorded Jeopardy. Yes, Jeopardy. Long story. Yet, he could come home after school and put in my tape, record Robotech and then switch out the tapes for his parents etc. This was all back in the summer of 1986. It was around 1987 that I learned how much of a fan he was. I thought he would simply be recording a show for me. Little did I know that he was actually recording the shows on his Beta Max machine in his bedroom. Not only was he recording the KTTV episodes but he had tapes of the original KCOP broadcasts. So, from time to time I would love going over to his house to watch Robotech via his little Beta tapes. Thus, this leads me to how the books tie into this story.

It was a nice spring day (possibly March or early April) in 1988 and we went to his room to watch some of his Robotech episodes (he had several 1st and 2nd gen episodes I did not). As I plopped down on his bed and begin to watch the episode, I look over to his head board to find two novels sitting there. Each bookmarked and looked to be well read. The spines read, Robotech Genesis and Robotech Battle Cry. Sitting before me was two Robotech novelizations. Like my discovery of the comic books, I was like, “there’s Robotech novels!?” I was amazed. I quickly asked to see them and flipped through them. I asked him where he got them. His response was very dry and matter of fact – some bookstore in Alamogordo … or was it Albuquerque? My attitude was complete and utter joy as if I found some long lost toy. After my inspection, I found they were not new tales but a retelling of the show like the comics. It didn’t matter. There was so much more information and detail in these novels than either the show and comic lacked. I was hooked. My only complaint was that my best friend hadn’t volunteered the information. I was surprised I had to discover them in his room vs. him saying, “Dude, I found Robotech books!”

I asked my mother to run out to Hastings at the Roswell Mall (the closest thing we had to a bookstore) that weekend after church. Running to the sci-fi section, I hoped I would find these Robotech novels. Eyes bounced from shelf to shelf. Looking. Looking. Near the bottom shelf, bam! I found most of the books minus a few such as 3, 5, 8, 11, 12. I was lost looking at each of the covers and flipping through the pages. Sniffing them. Yes, I sniffed books even back then. I immediately borrowed on my allowance and got books 1 and 2. (cover price was $2.95!) Went home that Sunday afternoon and started reading book #1 - Genesis. In less than a week had that book read and was tearing through book #2 - Battle Cry. I was so anxious to get the next book even before finishing the one I was reading. I remembered that Hastings didn’t have book 3 last time I was in there. Yet I took a chance. They still didn’t have book 3 but I bought #4 instead. I decided to try the tiny newsstand and book store on 3rd Avenue. Rode my bike down there one Saturday and bingo! They had it. They had a few of the lower numbered books as well. I think through number 7 – Southern Cross. I bought what they had within the next couple weeks, and then called them to see if they had gotten any more in. At the time they didn’t but the nice old lady on the phone said she would be more than happy to order them for me. I quickly had her order all the books I was missing: books 5, 8, 9, 10, 11 and 12. She said they would be in within a couple weeks. After I hung up, I panicked. How was I going to pay for these books? I still have this idea it was like a $100 worth of books. Could I even beg my mom into buying them for me? In reality it was only $24 bucks plus tax. Yet it still feels like more than that to this day. Yet, when the nice lady called to tell me they were in, I rode my bike down that weekend and bought all of them as promised. Now I had all 12 books that documented the original 85 episodes of the show. I think I had all them read before school started the fall of 1988. It was a good thing too. Because that summer, the release of the Robotech Sentinels books had begun. I had discovered their release via a new bookstore in the Plains Park Shopping Center called Greenspray Books and Comics. The Sentinel books covered the un-produced sequel to Robotech. My excitement of these was even greater than the others. This was new Robotech material! I remember waiting every couple of months that summer to get the next one. I have precise memories of the last book coming out in July because I had done some extra work around my mothers work and she promised to drive to the bookstore to buy the Robotech book I was saving and waiting for. I had to let her know it had yet to be released and she could buy it then. In all, the summer of 1988 was a summer of reading. I had my nosed buried in those books everyday. As for Greenspray Books and Comics, it would introduce me to another facets of Roboetch. The RPG!

Robotech Memories: the comics

2010-04-13T12:59:00.000-07:00

Just for record, I wrote this blog entry entirely on my iPhone. Not bad considering. I am trying to clean it up and fix the misspellings.

I teased that I would talk about the Robotech books next yet realized that it was in fact the comics that happened first...

Late summer 1986, KTTV's run of Robotech ended at episode #27 "Force of Arms". I would not acquire a full library of recorded episodes. I would be doomed to miss episodes "Reconstruction Blues" through "The Trap" on VHS until the show would air via the Sci-Fi Channel (yet I will discuss that later).

Yet, I would bw able to relive these episodes through another media. I'm not sure the exact date or the episode but while watching and reading the end credits one day I noticed the credits listed "Comic book adaption by Comico Comics". What!? There is a comic book of Robotech? I thought to myself. I immediately put this to memory. I vowed to find it. The only hurdle was there was no comic book store in Roswell back then. If the Walgreens didn't have it then you might find it at the newsstand. But the wire spinner rack at the newsstand usually only had the biggies-Spider-man and Superman. So the quest would fade from mind. Until one day I would visit my Grandmother in
Alamogordo. We bought many of my comics at the Yucca Newsstand and while grabbing the latest issue of G.I. Joe I looked up to see three comics with the Comico logo. The white whale had been found and captured. Not only was there a Robotech comic, there was three! Robotech The Macross Saga, Robotech The Masters and Robotech The New
Generation.

It was around May or June 1986. The first issues would be #11 for Macross, and issues #8 for both Masters and New Generation. I wish I could remember the exact date thus I'm using the cover dates of the issues- not sure Comico released issues a few months before their actual cover dates. So my discovery may have been as early as March or
April. Shortly after I added the three titles to my monthly list. (back story: since Roswell had no reliable comic retailer, my Grandmother would go to Yucca Newsstand and buy my comics. Mostly G.I. Joe and a handfull of DC hero books).

I would not miss an issue until the runs ended early 1989. Actually Macross would run to Jan 1989 but Masters would be Apr 1988 and New Generation July 1988. I filled missing issue holes every chance I got. Many from classified ads at the back of comics. Yet a comic shop in San Antonio and QVC would finalize my collections. The comic shop in
San Antonio was called King Arthur's Comics. I was able to buy the last of my missing issues and even accidentally bought a few I already had. Back then I went by memory on the back issues and some of the covers didn't look familar. That was the summer of 1991. Only one issue would evade me. That was Robotech Macross #1! I would learn from Protoculture Addicts that issue one actually had the original Japanese logo of Macross. This was late 1984 when Harmony Gold was originally going to do a straight translation of Macross. Yet the plan would change and since it was released in Dec 1984, not many issues would surface. I did run across an issue in late 1987 or early 1988 at
Greenspray Books and Comics in Roswell. Yet the $30 price tag might have been a brick of gold to a freshman in high school. Thus it was out of my price range. And almost everyone who would come across it. I'm not sure if it ever sold or went with Greenspray when it closed a few months later. Yet, my patience and possibly a higher calling
assisted my eventual acquisition. I am not making this up but Fate played a hand in this comic. In 1994, I awoke in the middle of the night. It was 1 AM. The tv was on QVC. Not sure if it was because I fell asleep while watching a Star Wars collectibles show or if I rolled on the remote-changing the channel. How it happened is a mystery but the good thing was there on the screen was Comico's Robotech The Macross Saga #1! Original issues - apparently a warehouse find. The price was $19.95. Not cheap but as a working college student with a credit card, I didn't care. I immediately bought two copies! Now my Robotech comic collection was complete! All thankful to me waking in the middle of the night and my tv being on QVC. Funny thing, I found a third copy of this issue about ten years ago for $5 at comic show. Ebay usually sales the issue from $2 to $80. Yet I would list the value to me as priceless. Yet realistically it's more like two
dollars.

Robotech Memories: The Books!

2010-03-20T08:31:00.000-07:00

Wow! Has it been almost a month since my last blog? If any one does read this thing, I apologize. I went to Cabo San Lucas the first week of March and since then I've been playing catch up at work and home. But I still had a silent moment on March 1st to remember Robotech. I even had a little piece of Robotech with me as I took the Masters Novelization Omnibus. There will be more this weekend. So look out!

Robotech Memories: Drawings II

2010-02-20T14:59:00.001-08:00

Here's another sketch (and with color). I do have some memories about this one. I know I drew this in the 7th grade (which would be late 1985 or early 1986). I think its partly traced from a book. I colored it with color pencils and its drawn on regular typewriter paper.

if you look close at this one, you can see the holes where staples had fixed this to my bedroom wall. Its funny what you keep from childhood. I kept almost all of these little pieces of art...

Robotech Memories: Drawings

2010-02-18T18:59:00.000-08:00

Let's say I was pretty much obsessed with Robotech from the time of the 7th grade through High School. To be honest, I don't think the obsession ever ended. Yet, during those early years, I not only would watch the show every chance I could get but I would also sketch characters and mecha. Here's a couple drawings. The first one was completed in early 1994. This just shows you that I was still obsessed in college...

Pencils on 11x14 art paper -

Pencils on 8x11 photocopy paper -

The Rick Hunter was completed in 1990. (Junior Year) I look back on these drawings and really feel nostalgia. I think I remember drawing them. They aren't great and some of these drawings actually have small holes as I remember pinning and stapling them to my bedroom walls back then.

Robotech Memories: Robotech Letters

2010-02-17T16:08:00.000-08:00

As I've mentioned in my last post, I wrote letters to KTTV and my local cable provider when Robotech was canceled. I also wrote letters to Harmony Gold. I don't recall what the letters specifically said, but I know it was most likely a fan-gasm sort of letter. While looking through my files and Robotech processions recently, I came across this post card. I thought I would share it here. I've kept it for the nearly 25 years in the front of my Robotech Art I book. I know I wrote several letters to several entities back between 1986 and 1987. According to the post mark on the card, it was sent sometime in April 1988. If memory serves, 1988 was the year Sentinels came out on VHS via Streamline. Like current Robotech projects, The Sentinels, was originally scheduled for a 1986 release yet we didn't get anything until 1988. Yet that's a story in itself.

-more little archive items coming soon.

Robotech Memories: Robotech Returns!

2010-02-16T18:59:00.000-08:00

February 1986

-take note that most of the accounts below are that from a perspective of a 13 year old boy from 1986. 25 years have past and much as been learned. Yet, this is what I thought back then. Stay with me and I'll show you how it changed my life...

Or it could have been early March 1986. It was still a very important time. My seventh grade year was coming to an end. The long months of Fall 1985 and Early 1986 with no Robotech was nearly over. In the months prior to March, I had learned to live without Robotech. These were the years before On-Demand or Hulu. Christmas 1985 had delivered us with our first VCR. Unfortunately, Robotech wasn't out on VHS. At least not anywhere I knew. But it wouldn't matter.

While watching a typical afternoon lineup of cartoons, most likely Voltron or Thundercats, there was a fast station commercial and an advertisement for Robotech airing Monday at 4:00 pm. My heart stopped. Not more than a few milliseconds or I would have found myself unconscious on the floor, mind you.

At last, Robotech had Returned!

Things were back to being a great time. I remember talking to Chris Lester in Mrs. Field's English class about the latest episodes. I doodled battles of Hovertanks and Bioroids. All the while it never dawned on me to use the fancy new VCR to record the episodes until one day I was going to miss one due to a school activity. I set the VCR to tape and it hit me like a sock full of pennies. I could tape it every afternoon and watch it whenever and as often as I wanted. The first episode taped: Robotech, Second Generation, episode 10 (46) Stardust. It was then that I started working on my own home video library of Robotech. Everyday I was at the VCR at 4:45 (remember it started an hour later in the Roswell area - LA was an hour behind us) waiting to punch the record button. I remember Gumby was on before it (and I had to watch the claymation while I waited) and Thudercats would start immediately after just as I hit stop on the VCR. Allowance went to blank VHS tapes.

I was so angry at myself that I hadn't started taping it before. I prayed that KTTV would rerun the show at least one more time so I could catch all the episodes I missed (Ep #1 Booby Trap through Ep #45 Metal Fire ). I was so focused on recording the show, I even remember running (literally running) from my mother's work (Chewning Footwear) to our house in under 20 minutes. Not bad for the 2 or so miles. I don't remember all the details but somehow I recall my grandmother was suppose to pick me up around 4 pm and take me home. When 4:30 had rolled around and still no ride, I told my mother, I going to run home. She was so shocked that I literally took off running, she didn't stop me. I remember opening the door with 5 minutes to spare. I loaded the tape and hit record.

I would continue to record and watch all the episodes right up to episode 60 (the 24th episode of Robotech Masters). Then, horror struck. KTTV had canceled broadcast of Robotech. We didn't' even get a full run of the show. My hopes of seeing New Generation to completion had been robbed from me again! I waited thinking it had to be a mistake. Yet, when 1 week turned into 6 weeks and no Robotech had returned to TV, I knew I had to live without Robotech once more. But I wasn't going to like it nor sit quietly. It was this time that I started writing not only KTTV in Los Angeles but my local cable provider requesting, no demanding, the return of Robotech. I told my friends to write. I'm not sure how I got the information (remember the internet wouldn't be invented for another 10 years) but I had heard rumors KTTV had been pressured to remove Robotech from the afternoon lineup due to the realistic violence in the show. Here was a show that taught us that war meant people died. Not everyone safely escaped an exploding Rattler or Skystriker with a pearly white parachute. It was a show that had real emotions, character growth and development and kick-ass robots! I don't have copies of the letters I sent, but I know I sent more than a few. And when all hope was gone, the day came. Robotech would return once again!

By late June 1986, KTTV had won the battles with the Robotech Fans and the mothers that hated it. I even remember the ad stating "returning due to popular demand." Yes, Robotech was back on the air starting July 1986. KTTV had picked the show up right where it had left off with episode #61 The Invid Invasion. Life was good again. Then, I was told I had to go to my grandmother's in Alamogordo. You know, the grandmother that had no cable. So, I asked a friend, Rob, to record the show while I was gone. I gave him a couple tapes and left from grandma's house. When I returned, I quickly took up the duties of recording the show every afternoon. I finally got to see how New Generation ended and a part of my life had been filled. I can still feel the excitement of the last episode when the narrator said, "join us where it all began. Reacquaint yourself with Rick Hunter, Lisa Hayes and Lynn Minmei." I bought a new tape and was ready to start recording the First Generation of Robotech. Soon I would have a near complete run of the show. Yet, Robotech disappeared from the lineup once again. Without warning it was gone. Not sure why. But it would not air again on KTTV nor any other channel until the early 1990s (when the Sci-fi Channel aired it).

-The dark times of no Robotech would haunt me once again. But during that time I had something just as good. The only difference was, I had to read it instead of watch it...

Robotech Memories: The Screenplay

2010-02-13T15:39:00.000-08:00

The below script is my attempt to write the first Robotech Live Action Movie. I started writing this sometime in the early 1990s. If I remember correctly, I started writing it on an old Brother Word Processor and once I got my first PC in 1996, transferred it into Microsoft Word. Over the next 5 - 6 years, I would add a little or revise it. Like many projects, it was never completed.

Now the below excerpt comes from a much longer version that was re-edited and saved in Microsoft Word sometime in 1998. Although I don't recall working on it past the 1990s, this copy is time stamped as being saved in September 2000. Thus, I must have preserved it into a new document around that time.

Ext. Space-Starfield

We soar through the dark vastness of space and enter a solar system on the
far side of the Milky Way Galaxy. The solar system is dominated by a
large red star, orbiting that red giant is a system of 8 planets. We soar
over the outer three planets and approach the fifth planet in the system.
This is the planet of

Fantoma.

A gas giant with 22 moons. As we soar past, and around the gas giant,
a small blue green moon,

Tirol,

comes into frame.
The moon slowly fills the entire frame, and finally we break the atmosphere
and soar through the clouds. The clouds are a thick milky white.
Eventually we soar through them to see a lush green country side. This
country side is full of Tyrolian trees, plants and grass. Soaring through
the Tyrolian air like a blue winged Lupin, we fly over a large city. This
city is a grand city of fine architecture and culture. Similar to fine
Renaissance combined with Greek architecture. We soar over and pass the
grand city back to the country side, a country side dominated by grassy
hills and rivers. The hills break and we approach a plain, this plain is
dominated with hues of pink and green. As we fly closer and closer, we see
the pink color of the landscape is created by thousands and thousands of
flowers, The Flowers of Life. We fly over a vast field of these flowers,
so close it appears we are just inches above the luscious flowers. Our
flight ends as we reach the edge of this crop and see a lone man standing in
a purple uniform of Tyrolian leadership. His name is Zor. He is the
chief scientist among the Tyrolians and the discoverer of Protoculture and
the inventor of Robotechnology. But today, he is destroying all that he
has built, destroying it in the hopes of redemption and common good. The
betterment of Tirol.

A large mecha (a mechanized robot of utility or war) flies over the field
and sprays a defoliant over the flowers. In seconds, the flowers wilt, die,
and fade to dust.

Zor's face is cold. He is emotionless. He knows this is for the better.

An aid to him approaches, his name is Cabell.

Cabell: Sir, why are you destroying the Central Protoculture Plant's
primary Flower of Life fields?

Zor: It is something I must do to rectify the past.

Cabell: But, why destroy all that you have founded and created.

Zor: To end the terrorany of evil men. The newly formed triumvirate
council is using this power to enslave and dominate civilizations. That was
never my intention with Protoculture.

Cabell: I agree with you, sir. But perhaps there will be a day when
Protoculture will improve our society once again.

Zor: It will. This must be done now because the Invid are close to
destroying our way of life because of an injustice I committed.

Cabell: I understand sir.

Zor: That is why, Cabell, I want you to continue to study the Flower of
Life. Do not let our research die here. I have prepared you a secret
laboratory under the Grand Statue. Continue our work. And perhaps one
day, Protoculture will improve our society. I foresee a great many changes
in our galaxy because of my actions of the past and of today.

Cabell: I don't understand. What are you-

Zor: In time you will. As we speak, Dolza has carried out my wishes.
The Zentraidi are simultaneously destroying all Flower of Life cultivating
fields on Karbarra, Orion, and Sepheria. The Protoculture Matrix on Haden
has been also destroyed. The only matrix left is aboard my flagship. I
personally make sure it will remain secure until I contact you. Until
then, stay on Tirol and continue the research I have given you. Now go,
Cabell

Cabell: Yes, Zor. May the Gods grant you speed and safeness.

Cabell leaves.

Zor continues to watch as the last Flowers are destroyed by the red and
black mechas.

A landing craft lands behind Zor. Several armored troopers step out and
escort Zor back. He boards the landing craft and the ship takes to the air.

Ext. Space- Super Dimensional Fortress-Zor's Flagship

Zor's flagship hovers in Tirol orbit. The ship is enormous, measuring over
a mile long. The ship has an organic look to it yet the metallic angles are
still present. This is the Super Dimensional Fortress or SDF-1. One of
the first ships in the Zentraedi Fleet to pocess super dimensional
properties. And the only place in the galaxy to have a protoculture
matrix aboard.

Int. SDF's Main Hold

Zor's shuttle lands.

Zor exits and is greeted by several Tyrolian aids. They escort him to the
bridge.

If you want to read the full version of this artifact of my past with Robotech, please go to the Incomplete Robotech Screenplay or http://www.knighthartkastle.com/RobotechMemories.html. There you will find PDF versions of all the Robotech Memories posts and the incomplete Robotech Screenplay.

Robotech Memories: The Original Run - Part II

2010-02-12T17:39:00.000-08:00

-take note that most of the accounts below are that from a perspective of a 12 year old boy from 1985. 25 years have past and much as been learned. Yet, this is what I thought back then. Stay with me and I'll show you how it changed my life...

Although I was upset in missing the conclusion of the 3rd Robotech War, I was confident I would see it within the next couple months. Then by that time, I would be consumed by the second season of Robotech. My imagination had already started working overdrive. The story and every generation so far had an enemy of the previous enemy attacking the Earth. So, I could only imagine what the enemy of the Invid would be like. The Invid were the scariest alien to attack our Robotech defenders so far. Thus anything that would be feared by the Invid must be totally horrific. (To note: years later and after reading and realizing that the Invid mentioned in the New Generation that they feared the Children of the Shadow, I figured this would have been the villain of a 4th Generation Robotech had it been done. Funny thing, that was the plot of the Robotech rebirth sequel, The Shadow Chronicles. Now back to 1985!) I thought the Summer of 1985 would be one of me watching Robotech every afternoon, drawing veritech fighters and finally seeing what happened to Scott Bernard. Well, I thought wrong.

As I returned home from my visit to my Grandmother's house, I was informed from my mother that the local Cable Provider had decided to nix two of the four Los Angeles affiliates. I found this very disconcerting. These stations were my life bread of after school programing. Outside of watching Knight Rider and Riptipe and a various few other shows in primetime, I watched KCOP, KTTV or KTLA (I mentioned before that I rarely watched the KHJ [later KCAL] as it played an odd format of older movies and 70s sitcoms.) The only saving grace to this sad news was that the Cable Provider had placed a subscriber poll of which two channels would get the axe. My mother allowed me to pick the channels. So we sent in our ballet with the order of channels (top being the most liked and the last being the least): KCOP, KTTV, KTLA and KHJ. The letter said that the results would be sent out in two weeks. I was confident that my channels would make the cut. Again my confidence was misplaced.

The results were in. The channels staying: KTTV and KHJ. The channels leaving: KCOP and KTLA. So that meant that my afternoon fix of Robetech was ending. The cable provider had placed a the date of the channels departure: August 1, 1985. And this date would arrive much sooner than I would see the 3rd Robotech War rebroadcast. If I could have stayed home in my PJs and only survived on Twinkies and Ding Dongs as my sorrow festered, I would have. Yet, I was only 12 and my mother forced me to get dressed, go outside to play and eat my sustaining dinner every day.

As my anger for the old farts of the Roswell community (as it must have been the retirees that wanted KHJ over KCOP-dang them and their old black and white movies!), I had to cope with no Robotech in my life. This was the first tragedy of my Robotech fandom.

If our Cable Provider had kept the channel lineup unaltered, the original run of Robotech on KCOP would have ended sometime in October 1985. See, I would learn a couple decades later while reading an article on Robotech, KCOP only played the show through two cycles of the 85 episodes. Since KCOP was one of the original broadcasters and they had giving Robotech 150 week days, we in fandom call this the Original Run. It would be months and sometimes years before Robotech would be back on television.

But back in 1985, the 12 year old version of me, was dismayed and disappointed he was missing the second season of the coolest show ever. Just as he never got get closure on the Invid Invasion. My only hope was to find another way to watch Robotech. But how to do it???

-stay tuned, as the tale of how the Second Run of Robotech would magically appear and then disappear....

Robotech Memories: The Original Run

2010-02-10T16:25:00.000-08:00

-take note that most of the accounts below are that from a perspective of a 12 year old boy from 1985. 25 years have past and much as been learned. Yet, this is what I thought back then. Stay with me and I'll show you how it changed my life...

March 4, 1985

That was the premiere of the regular run of Robotech on KCOP out of Los Angeles. Three days earlier, I had watch the pilot, Codename: Robotech, in awe and fascination. I feel honored that I can truly say I was there from the beginning and didn't discover this show via reruns or DVD. Years later, and with many, many hours of research (mostly done in the last decade), I found that Robotech only premiered in a few large markets back in March 1985. The two big areas was New York and Los Angeles. Many other stations wouldn't get the show until much later in 1985. I guess I can call myself lucky that I happened to live in a small New Mexico town that transmitted several Los Angeles affiliates on its local cable provider. I still remember the four channels we'd get from L.A. There was KCOP, KTTV, KTLA and KHJ. I recall that I mainly watched KCOP and KTTV. These two channels boasted a large afternoon lineup of cartoons and other after-school shows. KTLA and KHJ mostly played movies and old re-runs of sitcoms from the 1970s.

I made a point to be on our gold couch every afternoon at 4:30 (I think it was 4:30, I have dug in my memories the best I can so forgive me if that is wrong. I know the show would be on at 4:30 on another network years later). UPDATE: After endless hours of research on the interwebs and finding some old newspaper TV listings. Robotech on KCOP was on at 4:30 pm Pacific, thus it was 5:30 pm Mountain. Roswell was in the Mountain Time Zone. So, deep down in my memories I remembered the announcer and commercials stating it was on at 4:30 – which was right yet it just aired one hour later in our area. Now that I know this, it brings back even more memories of when and where(s) of me watching Robotech. After every episode, I would eagerly anticipate the next one. I couldn't get enough of Robotech.

After watching nearly 36 episodes of what fans would call the 1st generation of Robotech, I had grown quite fond of it. Each day I wondered if Rick would be able to be with Minmei or if he would choose Lisa Hayes instead. I daydreamed about Veritechs. I would doodle large battles between Zentraedi Battlepods and Destroids. Nearly a month and half later, a sad day happened. April 22, 1985. This was the final episode of what would be called the Macross Saga. When the episode ended. I had no idea that it was really the last episode with Rick, Lisa, Minmei and Max. Like the conclusion of Force of Arms, I figured they would leap a few years into the future and we'd see the new SDF-3 going off into the stars. Perhaps this journey through space, like the Vehicle Team Voltron, was some of the mecha and characters I recalled from the opening credits. See after watching those opening credits 36 times, I was starting to analyze every component. There were motorcycles and a lovely blond girl in really cool battle armor pointing a rifle at the audience. I had no clue how these images or characters would fit into the overall story of Robotech.

I was wrong. On April 23, 1985, the first episode of (what we would dub the 2nd Generation) of Robotech began. It was titled, Dana's Story. At first I didn't mind it too much. They had spear headed it with lots of scenes from the previous episode. An unknown speaker spoke of the first Robotech War and how a new generation was ready to defend the Earth. It was Robotech so I watched. By the second and third episodes, I found myself not liking it. I think I was too attached to the original characters of Rick, Lisa and Minmei. Yet, the mecha was cool. I really liked the new samurai looking battle armor. So I stuck with it. (I'm glad I did, because in the long run the Masters Saga would end up being my favorite of all three generations of Robotech. Mostly because of the armor and mecha designs. The show also felt more militaristic vs the Macross counterpart.)

Yet, like all good things, even this version of Robotech would come to an end. The final episode of the 2nd Generation was on May 24, 1985. I remember school was nearly over. Sixth grade was coming to a close. In a few short months, I'd be at a new junior high and in the seventh grade. Yet first I had to prepare myself once again that my show was ending. Except this time, I wasn't so shocked that it had. The end of Robotech Masters had given us the fear and anticipation of an invading Invid army. I was really interested in watching this unfold. Again, at only 12 years old and knowing nothing of the production of Robotech, I thought we'd see Dana and a new band of Robotech fighters go off into space to divert the invasion. Or at least see, the Armies of the Southern Cross defend the earth from the Invid Horde.

I was wrong again. Instead we got a whole New Generation of Robotech defenders. As I said before, I wasn't so shocked that the show had taken another turn and jumped ahead. I embraced it with open arms. Watching Scott Bernard and the 21st Mars Division attack the Earth in a D-Day like invasion to free the Earth from crazy Invids hooked my attention and imagination. Unlike my unwillingness of the first few episodes of Masters, I was ready for this New Generation. Watching a motorcycle transform into a miniature battloid and fighting the crab-like Invid was incredibly cool. I couldn't wait for more episodes.

Then some bad news happened. My mother told me that school was out and I was scheduled to spend a few weeks at my Grandmother's house in Alamogordo. This wouldn't have been the bad news as I took it if my grandmother had cable. Since she didn't have cable, I knew that I would miss over two weeks of this new generation of Robotech. But wait, my mother had mentioned she had scheduled cable installation at my grandmothers. (see the reason my grandmother didn't have cable was she didn't want to pay the $15 a month for it. My mother was offering to have it installed and pay it each month so my grandmother would have something to do and watch.) Now, I was possibly only going to miss a couple of episodes in the time it would take to get there and have the cable man install the channels.

Well, as plans go, they never go as planned. The cable installation was delayed nearly 2 weeks. By the time my grandmother would get cable, the New Generation would be over. Yet, I tuned into Robotech like a hungry dog. I was shocked and dismayed to see they were showing episode 4, The Long Wait. I was now confused. Yet, my 12 year old mind raced to find an answer. The show must have gone back into re-runs because the season was over. I wasn't sure how everything ended but I hopefully would be able to catch up in the next few months. And by then, a new season of Robotech would be on the air for more awesome interstellar combat and transforming veritechs.

Well, not exactly how it would go...

-Stay tuned as I tell you how my life with Robotech would hit its first road block and how I would cope...

Robotech Memories: The beginning

2010-02-08T21:03:00.000-08:00

-take note that most of the accounts below are that from a perspective of a 12 year old boy from 1985. 25 years have past and much as been learned. Yet, this is what I thought back then. Stay with me and I'll show you how it changed my life...

March 1, 1985. Codename: Robotech had just premiered on KCOP channel 13. A new era in my life had begun.

For the 12 years before that moment, I had been a kid that enjoyed only one thing more than G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero. And that was Star Wars. After Return of the Jedi, had left the theaters in 1984. Star Wars had been forgotten by the coolness of G.I.Joe. By 1984, I had watched two G.I.Joe TV mini-series, rushed to buy the toys and anticipated the next TV commercial advertising the next issue of the Marvel Comic book. Yet, on March 1, 1985 that would change. It was the day that G.I.Joe stopped being my fanatical hobby and the day a new show- Robotech would take over my imagination.

I can still remember the apartment (Valle Encantada on Sunset and Poe). The burnt gold sofa that I had sat comfortably. The old Zenith television dialed to channel 13 (KCOP). Not truly understanding the story unfolding before me, I knew this was the coolest show I had seen in my entire life (of 12 years). Up until now, I would have said the coolest cartoon ever was Battle of the Planets. At 12, I would still contour my arm in a sideways "V" and yell, "trasmute!". The summer before 1985, I would say the coolest cartoon of the last year was Voltron: Defender of the Universe. I would watch it while drawing at the coffee table. Drawing battles between the ships of the Drule Empire and Earth or Zarkon's Fleet invading Arus. But those days were now gone.

The best part of watching Codename: Robotech was the advertisement to tune in Monday for the series premiere of Robotech! The 90 minute special was not the end. Now Monday seemed so far away. After watching Codename: Robotech, I wish I could watch it again. Wished to see more of the space battles. See more of the transforming Veritechs. And to see if I could understand it more with a second viewing. But this was the days before we got our first VCR. We wouldn't get that until Christmas 1985. Until then, I would have to settle on the replay in my mind.

Monday would eventually come and I spent most of the day anticipating the bike ride home. I remember Robotech started at 4:30 right after The Flintstones. Since I had Robotech on the brain for the days prior, I remember being very alert and attentive to the opening credits that first day. At the time, I had no clue this show would span three generations and three sets of characters. So, I had wondered when I would see the other mechs and characters that were in the brief scenes of the opening credits.

I don't recall the exact feelings I had after watching Booby Trap (episode I of the Macross generation). I do know that I was hooked. I wasn't confused anymore. A giant alien spacecraft had crashed on Earth. It contained the secret to Robotechnology. And now some 50 foot tall Zentraedi wanted the ship back. There was a character named Rick Hunter who had rescued a young girl named Minmei. The invasion of Macross Island had started and Rick was left in shock. I know I subconsciously connected this show with the likes of Voltron and Battle of the Planets. Again, I was unaware of the true origins of the show (and what would then be referred to as Japanimation). Instead, I just assumed that the creators of those other shows had a hand in drawing and creating this new show!

-With only a week and 5 shows under my belt, I knew this show had changed my life. It would influence how I would participate in fandom for the next 25 years...

TV: Robotech (1985)

2010-02-07T14:56:00.000-08:00

-a recent debate on a geek forum has inspired me to spend sometime on one of my favorite franchises and universes, I will recount the history, the analysis and the story of how it shaped my life-

March 1st 1985.

My sixth grade year was within a few months of ending and the summer before middle school was about to begin. I have vivid memories of that time. I give some credit to this as it was the start of a life changing event. Not only the date itself but the time period I was about to embark - a new school and new friends. I also believe that in my 12 year old’s mind – although excited – I was innately frightened by the big world of a junior high school.

The date was a Friday. I remember the day precisely. Everyday, I would ride my bike home and flick the TV on and watch the afternoon cartoon lineup on KCOP. That line-up varied but consisted of The Jetsons, Flintsones, He-man and Masters of the Universe or Voltron. While watching an episode of the Flintstones in the days prior, an ad played during the commercial breaks. The TV spot was for a special broadcast of a new show. At the time I didn’t think it would be a series but perhaps the “pilot” of a future show. Something similar to the original G.I.Joe and Transformers broadcasts. The G.I.Joe: A Real American Hero TV mini-series and its sequel, The Revenge of Cobra had happened in 1983 and the year before and now there was a new show starting in the fall. Like it, Transformers originally was broadcast as a mini-series and now had a regular series. So, I wasn’t thinking – even at 12 years old – if the show got good ratings perhaps this afternoon special would become a regular series. The ads played for the entire week. I took note of the time. It would air that Friday Mar 1st 4:00pm to 5:30pm (if memory serves- but have a vague thinking it was 4:30 to 6:00).

I couldn’t wait for the week to end. I thought it would be the perfect ending to the week-along with the excitement of the weekend (mainly because I loved watching cartoons on Saturday morning- Spider-man and his Amazing Friends and Super Friends and Smurfs.) I’ve made no denials, I was a TV geek and a sci-fi nerd. I’d rather watch Voltron than play football with the neighborhood kids. I was the kid that got up at 6 am on Saturday to watch cartoons. Yes, 6am!

The show was called Codename: Robotech. If I had a VCR, I would have set it. Yet, the TV was on. Snack and soda was on the table. I was ready to watch.

As the TV spot had run during the week, I thought the show was exactly like G.I. Joe and He-man – cartoon advertising a toy line. The name Robotech was not new to me. Although, the world lacked the internet back in 1985, I was a kid that liked going to Kmart, Alco or TG&Y. I was always on the look out for cool sci-fi toys or comics. In the plastic model kit section of the toy isles was a model kit line called Robotech—model kits of giant robots. My first impression of these kits was they were incredibly detailed and cool. Nothing like Transformers. So, with hearing the show called Codename: Robotech and seeing planes transform into giant robots, I was like “they are giving a story to those robots”. Although, I wasn’t a massive model builder, I had built a few kits like an Airwolf and Japanese Zero. Thus, I figured this show would now mandate I redirect some of my allowance dollars to those model kits. It was nothing new. I had already redirected monies to G.I. Joe comics because of the TV mini-series and shows like Go Bots and Transformers got me into buying Cop-tur and Bumble-bee.

I remember the show starting and I recall watching the iconic film frames crawl up the screen. I was hooked. 90 minutes later the show was over. Yet, I will be totally honest, I didn’t understand it. This awesome show had flickered on my TV for nearly two hours yet I thought there was too much story for the time allowed. I had trouble following it. It wasn’t until later that I figured out that it was an extended version of Episode 14 Gloval’s Report-an episode recounting the SDF-1’s journey up to that point in the show. And it wasn’t until years later—when the DVDs were originally released—that I got to see this “pilot” again. I do know that when I turned the TV off, I thought it was the coolest cartoon I had ever seen. I didn’t care if I hadn’t understood it. It was already rivaling Battle of the Planets, Voltron and G.I. Joe.

-what’s next? Hear the accounts of the TV show’s regular run. My original thoughts and feelings along with the road bumps I would encounter with enjoying this show-

Has it been that long?

2010-02-05T22:26:00.001-08:00

Has it been since Sept 2009 since I've posted a story here?

I apologize to anyone out there that RSS feeds to this or has this in their Google Reader.

I promise more stories this month and in the future. Perhaps a snippet of a larger work.....

whispers of melancholy

2009-09-25T19:23:00.000-07:00

We all have regrets. I know I regret a great many things in my life. In a fantastic picture, I wish I could say I regret loosing everything on a game of blackjack. Regret the gambling obsession that forced me into a career as an adult film star so I could pay off my casino debts. And with that, the dirty and sticky recession of my soul that caused me to become a heroin addict. Remorse of owning nothing, and the allure to score another fix. Grief as I stepped into a life of crime, mugging the innocent to score moolah. Filthy green to buy packets of powder and pills. But that would all be lies and exaggerations. Nancy Reagan taught me not to do drugs. Went to Vegas for the first time when I was 35. Don't even own an adult movie. My life is simple and boring.

Like Frodo’s Ring, one regret rules them all – not following my dreams when I should have. My childhood fell victim to peer pressure. Succumbed to the false ambition of academic excellence. See, I thought the way to be accepted by my friends and the world around me was to be someone that owned a fancy diploma matted into a piano-black frame. In a lazy attempt to achieve it, I sacrificed all that was important - my art. And in my race to be accepted, I inadvertently overlooked my one true talent.

I miss the days when I sat in my grandmother’s floor tracing Kid-Flash out of New Teen Titans #28; sitting at the old IBM typewriter in my mother’s bedroom to rattle out a new G.I. Joe adventure; doodling on graph paper to architect new designs of Veritech Fighters; dragging myself out of bed at 5:30 AM so I could photograph colorful hot air balloons.

Now whispers of melancholy dance in the recesses of my mind. Somehow I try and convince myself I can go back. Transport myself back to the past – Roswell, 1985. Tell myself to listen to my 7th grade art teacher who spoke of my raw talent and begged for me to never set down the brush. Ignore the worries of impressing friends because I’d rather study the heroics of Superman than mitochondria. I know it's not too late but life isn't slowing down for me to catch up. So now I make every effort to motivate my daughter to follow her dreams. Do what her heart tells her to do. Ideology that is motivated on the eve of Bree choosing a new school – a new school engrossed in art and theatre. I envy her as she will soon have friends that cherish her artistic talents and support her creative endeavors instead of lure her away.

When Roswell was: "Roswell where?"

2009-09-23T22:09:00.000-07:00

I remember when Roswell was just some tiny town no one knew existed. If you weren't a native of New Mexico, you had no clue where Roswell was. There was a time when you could travel across the United States and if someone asked,"whereya from?" We'd quickly reply, "Roswell." And instinctively the next line of dialog was, "oh yeah, Georgia is hot and muggy this time of year." And we'd have to clarify, "no, not that Roswell. Roswell New Mexico." "Roswell where?" Yes, there was a time that no one new the home town of the old Walker Air Force Base. Although when I was young, the base had been closed for many, many years. Even lived on the base once in the 1970's as the old military housing turned to affordable rental properties. I don't remember much from that old apartment. But I do remember it was cold. The floor was a black hard tile. The walls were cinder block. If you weren't wearing socks, the frigid floor bit at your toes. It was simply, "Roswell where?". Then, it changed. Suddenly in 1993 it was printed on maps again. A show, X-Files, somehow made the boring town of Roswell a celebrity. Now everyone knew Roswell. It wasn't "Roswell where?" It was "Roswell where the aliens crashed?" Old copies of the 1947 paper were now on t-shirts and posters. I will say, I was happy to have lived in "Roswell where?" than "Roswell where the aliens crashed?" See, from the time of being a very small child all the way through high school, you could drive down main street, past the St. Mary's Hospital, past by the Denny's at 2nd St, past the Taco Villa, past the Skeen's Furniture and past NMMI (New Mexico Military Institute) and it was just a normal little town. Not any more. Now, there's two alien museums. Green aliens painted on store front windows. Read-a-boards proclaiming "Aliens eat at Arby's" and "Aliens stay the night at Day's Inn." There are stores that sell little alien dolls. Nick Knacks and Bobbles. Heck, I once saw a picture of the McDonald's we cruised in high school has a flying saucer play area. There's parades that make a Trekker blush. And festivals. What happened to "Roswell where?" Roswell of 1982 was my Roswell. But the Roswell of 2009 is too "alienated" for me nowadays. Good thing I have my memories I suppose...

K-Bob's Steakhouse

2009-09-22T20:10:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, the Sunday treat was lunch at the K-Bob's Steakhouse. As far back as I can remember, my mother and I would travel to the K-Bob's after church. I remember it was at Poe and Main. It would later move to a location near the ALCO store on Hobbs St. If memory serves, a second location was up north near the mall. I think that north location would later become the Mason Jar. Long before Cattle Baron's and The Outback, there was K-Bob's. It was the true fine steakhouse in Roswell. The steaks were always medium rare and always tasty. But the true treat was the chuck wagon salad bar! Like its name, it was a chuck wagon turned salad bar. The plates were at the end inside a mini refrigerator so your plate was always chilled. K-bob's was the very first place I knew that had a "salad bar". Not only could you get a nice tossed salad with cheese, black olives, ranch dressing and croutons, but a zangy potato and/or sweet macaroni salad. Being only a child, I would try not to fill up on the salad bar as the steak, baked potato and fried okra were always quickly served. We never ordered dessert as there was fruit salad and pudding at the salad bar. The atmosphere was that of an old western steakhouse. There were wagon wheel chandeliers and horseshoes hanging on the walls. I remember the original location to be dark and aged. The newer locations more modern and bright. I'm not sure when we stopped going to K-Bob's and chose to go someplace else yet I do recall enjoying it. It's strange how I started thinking about K-Bob's after all these years. Well, the reason was, my wife and I happen to eat in one in Canon City Colorado. Yep, they're still around. And the funny thing was, I felt just like that little boy, reaching for the bread pudding back in the 1980s in Roswell. To be honest, it was the chuck wagon salad bar that brought the memories back...

Technology: Apple IIc

2009-06-30T20:17:00.000-07:00

The first computer that I ever wanted was the Apple IIc - with its snow white case and small monitor. Growing up in Roswell in 1984, the biggest thing to hit Valley View Elementary was the new Apple II compact. It's snow white case and Not only was it as cool as the Apple IIe but it was tiny in comparison. It was a sign of the times that we were able to build computers smaller than ever before. I would purposely stay in the class room at lunch so I could play on the IIc. There was trivia games and simple games like hangman. Some games would run off a 5 ½ floppy drive. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I remember asking my mother if we could buy one. She was all for it until she called the Sears and discovered the price of $1300. To us, that was the cost of a car. It was food for a year. It was a life time of clothes and books. The closest I would come to owning a IIc was the one sitting in my 6th grade classroom. The world of computers at that moment was the coolest thing to my 12 year old eyes. I asked my mother for a subscription to Computer magazine. I would design smaller computers on my lined notebook paper. Sometimes I would move those designs to graph paper and make them look real technical and realistic. Later, I would take a computer programming class in the 7th grade. We worked on the Apple IIe’s -- spent an entire semester logging and writing code to a graphic that would run only 20 seconds. I remember plotting the color and pixel locations on graph paper and translating them into code. My graphic was a Japanese Zero dropping a bomb on the USS Arizona followed by a U.S. Flag honoring the sailors who died aboard. I think I got an B+. I would later envy a friend when his Dad brought home the brand new IBM PC in the late 80s or early 90s. Yet, I still wanted my own Apple IIc. I think I’ve said it before. Even though it was primitive to today’s machines, it still has a magic to it. Perhaps because it was my first true appreciation of a computer and realizing that they are getting more complex and more sophisticated. I have even gone to ebay looking for a functioning IIc. I know they exist. I visited a school back in the late 1990s and the classrooms still had functioning Apple IIe’s and IIc’s. I was amazed. I should have grabbed one and ran away with it. Those computers would later disappear with the new iMacs. Yes, I look at the IIc’s 2 Mhz processor, 1MB RAM and no hard drive, but wish I had one right now. I would sit in the dark classroom and type my answers, watching the green letters and cursor floating across the monitor – flashing bright. The mini laptop I write this entry on is less than half the size of the IIc and has a memory of 1 GB of RAM and 1.66 Ghz processor and a hard drive of 160 GB. Operating at over 1000 times the power of that IIc, the little Acer is strangely not as cool as that Apple IIc was back then. (not to say I don’t love my tiny Acer.)

Technology: Pre-VCR

2009-06-29T17:45:00.000-07:00

The first show I ever recorded was 1983's G.I. Joe: The Real American Hero mini-series. Later I would record the Transformers mini-series as well. It took 3 tapes to get all five episodes. I remember racing home every week day from Vally View. After letting myself into our apartment at Valle Encantada, I would grab a fresh tape from my bedroom. Making sure the tape was completely rewound, I loaded it into the recorder. I would hit the record button along with the pause button and wait for the show to start. I flipped the channel on the TV to Channel 13 -- KCOP. The credits would be rolling on the previous show. I don't recall if it was the Jetsons or the Flintstones. I would call my mother and tell her to let herself into the apartment quietly as I was recording G.I. Joe. My mother would always be considerate and do that very thing. To insure the best recording I would have to balance the recorder near the large speaker on the front of our 1977 Zenith television. With a kitchen chair pushed up to the TV stand and the recorder balancing on its end right in front of the speaker, I would wait. Finally, the announcer would foretell that G.I. Joe was starting next. Clicking the pause button, the recorder would begin recording. Then for the next 30 minutes I would wait and make as little noise as possible. I remember replaying those tapes over and over. I knew those shows backwards and forwards. The shows were all perfectly played in my mind and imagination. Yet the audio was exact in every detail on magnetic tape. I would sit on my bed and play them over and over. I would even play them while I took baths and ate my dinners. Each and every show, along with all commercials, perfectly archived on the best Memorex tapes...or was it Maxell. Each tape was only 60 minutes so I had one episode on each side. Although, primitive, I loved it. The magic behind it was stupidly simple. Pre-VCR. Recorded on audio tape with my single cassette recorder that was the size of a lunch box. We didn't have the money for the Sony Beta machines or the new VHS recorders. Those were over $500 back in 1983. Yet this way, I could own a small piece of G.I. Joe or Transformers. The only thing I regret is not keeping the tapes. It would be a time machine to go back and listen to them with commercials of the day. The remastered DVDs that I have today, still remind me of watching those shows from back then but being able to hear those mono recordings would be the true treasure...

4th Grade: The Lunch Ticket

2009-06-24T21:03:00.000-07:00

My daughter is in the 4th grade (soon to be the fifth grade) and we buy the hot meal plan from the school. So she gets this little debit card and she swipes it to receive a lunch in the lunch room. If she can’t swipe the card, she has the 8 digit number memorized (ie her student number) so she can enter it via a key pad. The computer monitors her balance and when she gets below a certain dollar amount and letter is generated to notify parents that she only has x dollars left in her account and we send in a check to recharge her fund.

Now, this got me to remembering how we bought our lunches when I was in the 4th grade. I will say it wasn’t with fancy debit cards and bank accounts. At Valley View Elementary School, we had to bring good ol’ coin. Yep. Two quarters. And I think it later became 75 cents. If you wanted milk without a lunch that was 10 cents (later it would be 25). Now we didn’t pay at the cafeteria. During the early morning roll call, the teacher would ask for any lunch buyers. She would collect our 50 (or 75) cents and hand us a little red ticket. The little red ticket. One would trade one lunch ticket for one lunch. It was the prized Lunch Ticket.

Ms. Anderson sits at her desk at the back of the room. She calls out to the class, who wants lunch tickets. Collecting quarters and making change from crisp $1 dollar bills. The big manila folder fills with clanging and jingling change. Some pay in dimes and nickels. She sets the big roll of lunch tickets on her desk. Bright red tickets sharply torn from a long strip of tickets. Tiny numbers printed on the sides, and the words One Ticket printed boldly in the center. The lunch bell rings. We race to the cafeteria (cafeteria at lunch, gym all the other times). At the front of the lunch line, a big wooden box sat, with a little slot. Dropping our tickets in the box, we grab a napkin and fork. The lunch lady fills our trays with the Spaghetti, peanut butter bars, roll and green beans.

Some kids had the issue of loosing the Lunch Ticket. If that was the case, you were out of luck unless you wanted to purchase another lunch ticket. There even were rumors of bullies taking Lunch Tickets from the weaker kids too. I can’t recall ever having my lunch ticket stolen from me but I know I did loose it from time to time. And when it happened you just suffered through. I never admitted to loosing it. I would make something up like I didn’t feel like eating that day or I was going to use the money to play a couple rounds of Karate Champ. But for a few seconds as you check your pockets, a small fear would arise if you didn’t find it right away.

Yes, there’s a more efficient way of doing today but there was something cool about buy that ticket and trading it for your lunch…(oh and we pay a $1.85 for my daughters lunch today, wish it was that 50 cents of yesteryear)...

Toys: Kenner’s Star Wars 12 Backs

2009-06-18T20:18:00.000-07:00

Summer 1978. Star Wars opened on May 25, 1977. I remember seeing it but it most likely was not May 25th. It was summer. It was hot. I remember my mother loaded me up in the family car in my PJs and went to the Drive-in. She was seeing some guy. Not my dad but I don’t recall his name. I could ask but I don’t care. Its not like he stuck around. But we watched Star Wars on the big screen. I was 5 ½ years old. I don’t remember much about that first viewing but I do know I loved the opening sequence with the Stormtroopers blasting into the small Rebel ship and the firefight that followed. I remember the tall Dark Sith Lord demanding stolen plans. I think I fell asleep sometime around the Cantina scene. I don’t blame myself. I was 5 and at a Drive-in past 9 PM. I’m thinking it was August 1978.

Flash forward to Spring or Early summer 1978. My great aunt and uncle Viv and Wade were on their annual trip to New Mexico. I don’t know why or exactly when yet I have a strong visual of standing in the Kmart toy department eyeballing a plethora of Star Wars figures on the pegs. The cards had the pictures of the characters from the movie. Everyone was there. Luke, Leia, Darth Vader, Han and Chewie. My favorite was the Stormtrooper. That image of two troopers standing in a door and firing what looked to be a red/green blast right at you. I tugged my mother’s shirt and asked if I could have one. She said yeah. I then asked for two. She reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t much money. $1.98 a figure. My great uncle Wade walked over and I remember saying that he’d heard how popular Star Wars was. I wonder to this day if he had gone to see it. He asked how many different ones there were. The back of the card showed only 12 different figures. He asked if they had all 12. I said, I think so. He said, then grab yourself a set. That’s right. My uncle was offering to buy all 12 figures. I clearly remember him buying all 12 figures right there in the Kmart. We couldn’t get home fast enough. I opened them all. The rest of the day, the house was a whirlwind of blaster and light sword sounds. Not sure if I had even saw the entire movie by then. I was six.

With owning all 12 that day, I wished I had them still on the card. Or at least begged for a 2nd set. (the market for them in 90s skyrocketed) But I do know, that I had the holy grail of Star Wars figures, the vinyl caped Jawa. Yep, I had it. Loose of course. I also remember loosing its gun at a babysitter’s house. And it would eventually disappear later at that same babysitter’s house. I was mad and distraught over it. My mother tried to calm me and say it was okay. She promised we’d go to the store tomorrow and buy another one. I wiped the tears away and we went to ALCO to buy its replacement the next day. This might have been sometime late ‘78 or early 1979. When we got there, I was surprised to find this new Jawa had a cloth cape. Not a cape but a whole little robe and hood thingie. I flipped out. Even in my 6 year old mind I knew it was much cooler than those dumb old plastic capes or coats that Vader and Old Ben had. I cherished that new Jawa. I never lost its gun and I never lost it. It wasn’t until I was 24 or so that I wished I had the original one again. Knowing that even a verified and authentic loose one would go for around 800 bucks. Oh well…at six…I was happy I lost the first one…

Bikes: Silver Racing Huffy

2009-06-17T20:06:00.000-07:00

In 1983, every 11- year old wanted a BMX racer bike. Race down streets. Go to the Pits. Speed down dirt pathways and up and over hills. Jump over ditches and tiny ravines. Pop wheelies and skid stops.

Intro: 1983 Silver Racing Huffy. Cool metallic silver frame. Bright fire engine red pads on the cross bar and handle bars. Mag wheels and trick sticks. Dirt tires. She was fast. She desired air jumps.

She was a Christmas present. The sharpest BMX-like bike I’d ever seen. I rode her to school, rode her to Craig’s house, rode her to the Tastee Freeze, to Daylight Donuts, rode her to Pits and rode her to Chewning’s.

This was the first time I had something that other kids actually envied me about. They begged to ride it. They begged to go down Dead Man’s Drop (at the Pits). I was selfish and mostly said no. I did let a few ride the Huffy behind the Park Twin Theater.

Peddling her as fast as I could. Zooming through the ALCO parking lot. Whipping in and out of parked cars. Hopping it up and over the curb to race down the huge side walk in front of the Plains Park Shopping Center.

Then the dark day happened. I was riding her home after an afternoon at Craig’s house. I remember the day as though it happened yesterday. I remember cruising down the fire lane of Roswell High School. I rode over Washington Ave and into the long parking lot of Columbia Manor Apartments. I turned the handle bars and round the end of the building and up onto the sidewalk. Zoomed into the patio of our apartment and popped the kickstand. I went into the sliding glass door and sat on the couch where my mother was watching TV. Probably some old western on KCAL. Not a few minutes from the time I sat down, the phone rang. It was a neighbor from 3 apartments down stating he saw a couple men walking my bike to their car. My mother told me to check my bike. I whipped the curtains back and she was gone. My Silver Racing Huffy was gone. We called the police. The good neighbor told them the make of car, license plate and description of the men. The police caught them. But there was no Silver Racing Huffy. She was gone. We searched the open fields and looked to see if they dumped it somewhere. Nothing. Never saw her again. One of the saddest days of my life. I still get pissed to this day. I dream of taking my Rawlings bat to the punks head.

I got a new bike right after that. My mother didn’t have to pay the entire amount. When friends and family heard how it got stolen right off our patio, they helped her buy me a another bike. But it wasn’t no Silver Racing Huffy. Her replacement was a Black and Gold Street Huffy. The mag wheels gone; replaced by spokes. She had a black frame and antique gold accents. I remember calling her the Wasp as her tires made this cool buzzing sound as I rode down side walks. It was just the tread on the tire but I imagined that she was a combat ready and mean like a wasp.

I loved the new bike too but I still would give a week of Sundays for the chance to had a childhood with only my Silver Racing Huffy…

Eats: Tastee Freeze

2009-06-16T20:20:00.000-07:00

I can’t remember the last time I had a banana split but when I was a kid the best ones were from Tastee Freeze.

The Tastee Freeze was the bomb. Not sure if it still exists. It was across the street of the Columbia Manor Apartments. More or less it backed up to the apartment complex. It was one of the places I could easily walk or ride my Huffy to. There on South Main Street next to the Sherman Williams paint store.

Sunday afternoon. Watching KCOP. Rin Tin Tin and reruns of F Troop. My mother would ask if I wanted to run over to Tastee Freeze and grab a couple banana splits. She would give me the cash, check or even one time we were so broke we used a couple tubes of my rolled pennies from my penny collection to pay for them. That’s how much we loved those things. Actually, I think we borrowed from that penny collection on several occasions. My mother would always repay the rolls of pennies on payday.

A banana split from Tastee Freeze was huge! Using a full size banana cut down the middle. Chunky pineapple and strawberry sauce. Thick molasses-like chocolate syrup. Whipped cream. Sprinkle of pecan pieces. Cherry. The price was only $1.29 I think. (I know it couldn’t be much more than that as it took exactly 6 rolls of pennies, with change back, to pay for two.) I think I tried a Sonic banana split once and I was amazed I paid $2.99 for a tiny little cup with only half a banana.

Its these little simple things that make me want the 80s back. And Tastee Freeze wasn’t just about ice cream. They had a great chicken finger basket and savory French Fries that I still haven’t found a similar look or taste.

You wouldn’t believe how excited I was when one day driving down Colorado Blvd. here in Denver and I see the Tastee Freeze logo- the red and blue T/F logo. It was attached with a Hamburger Stand. I was later disappointed when it was nothing like that Tastee Freeze back home, 25 years ago….

3rd Grade: Latch Key Kid

2009-06-15T21:00:00.001-07:00

Remember when you could allow your kids to walk home, let themselves in with the key attached to their belt and not get in trouble with Social Services?

I remember the first time I became a Latch Key Kid. Third Grade. Columbia Manor Apartments. Ms. Richardson's class. I think her name changed after she got married. I really need to find my grade school book with all my photos and notes.

My mother originally thought the best idea was to place the key around my neck. It was on a cheap silver chain. The chain survived until second recess, you know the one after lunch. I was swinging on the monkey bars. Running after soccer balls. Somehow the chain snapped. Key was missing. I was so worried and nervous. I asked Ms. Richardson if I could go look for it on the playground. I swore I was out there for hours combing the ground back and forth, like how search parties search for missing bodies. I never found it. The first day as a latch key kid and I lose the key. Kinda a big deal.

I had to call my mother. I lost the key. Its okay. I won't be able to get in. Don't worry about it; I'll get you. Will we have to change the locks? Someone may have the key to our house. Don't worry about, my mother said. I still think about the day I lost the key. That's the way I am. Thinking if I had done something different so my mother wouldn't be disappointed in me. If she was mad or upset, she never let me know it. I guess that's what makes my mother a better parent than I sometimes.

On day two of being a Latch Key Kid, my mother put the key on a key ring and I put it in my pocket. To this day, I never lost that key ring nor another key. I remained a Latch Key Kid for the rest of my days in school. If you ask my mother today she will say I was much older--5th grade at least--before I was a Latch Key Kid. I disagree as I know it was 3rd grade because Valley View's playgrounds were separated by 1-3rd grade and 4-6th grade and I was definitely on the 3rd grade side on the big set of monkey bars.

Back then it was something kids did. Today, it would be the sign of bad parents. Wow, how times have changed...

Video Games: Pitfall!

2009-06-10T17:25:00.000-07:00

Summer 1983. Sitting in the floor of my bedroom, I pop the cartridge of Pitfall! into the Coleco Gemini. 8-bit graphics on a 13-inch B&W TV. The back of the Pitfall! box states that if you score more than 20,000 points you can send a photo in of your score and become part of the Pitfall Harry's explorer club. 20,000 points in under 20 minutes should be easy, right? Two hours later, the screen shows a score of 20,150. Pause. Game over. Grandma can I borrow your Polaroid? What ever for? I need to get a picture of my high score so I can get a Pitfall! T-shirt...no...a Pitfall! patch! So many vines. So many scorpions avoided. Do parents of 1983 know how hard it is to jump from crocodile to crocodile while avoiding them from snapping my legs off? Gold bar. Silver Bar. Platinum Bar. And bag of money. I always thought it odd that a bag of money lay in the jungle. Yet, Harry would swing and pick it up. Rolling logs. Jump. If you get hit, Harry is thrown to his knees and proceeds to make the sound of flatulence. Da da-da dum dummmmmm, as I fall into the disappearing and reappearing tar pit. It was the highest I ever scored. The first photo, the screen is blurry. Will ActiVision even know that's a 20,150 score? Better take another. The print slides out of the camera. Wait. Wait. Fan the picture. Fan. The print is dry yet the screen of the TV has a curvy line thing through the score. Third picture will be the charm. Sure enough. Its close enough. Mailed. I waited six to eight weeks. I gave it another six to eight weeks and nothing. I never got that t-shirt...or patch. Yes, I did break 20K in Pitfall! and I'm damn proud of it. I click the off button and that score fades to black.

Comic Books: Batman #307 January 1979

2009-06-09T19:45:00.000-07:00

Sliding the book from the Mylar sleeve, I stare at the cover. The image still gives me goosebumps. I'm not frightened by it but it intrigues me. When I was little, I stared at this cover for hours it seemed. The woman with gold coins over her eyes. Batman struggling with a mysterious man with a red scarf over his face, eyes in shadow under a green fedora. The edges are worn. The pages yellowed slightly. The cover has a crease on the front cover where I would fold the book back to read it. The pages smell musty and aged. I flip through the pages and look at the panels. I haven't read this book in nearly 30 years. I can for a fact state this is my very first comic I ever read and ever owned. There are no comics that date farther back and I can clearly remember they day I got it.

Being the only child to a single parent that worked everyday to support us, I found myself in the hands of a babysitter on most Saturdays and after school. One such Saturday I was in the care of Kristen. She was a lanky teenager that would watch not only myself but my best friend Shawn. I was a well behaved child and could entertain myself easily with a Star Wars figure or a box of crayons and paper. Shawn on the other hand was a bit more rambunctious. I can remember on that day, Shawn was giving Kristen an extra dose of behavior. Jumping around and yelling things like never fear Mighty Mouse is here!. Kristen in an effort of giving something for Shawn to focus on decided to take us both to ALCO. She promised both of us that she would buy us something if we remained good for the rest of the day. In the toy department there was a rack of comic book packs. My eyes fixed on that cover of Batman fighting some unknown thug in a green coat and the lady with coins for eyes. I picked it up and held it in my hands. Kristen asked if that was something I would want. I said, yes. It was a pack of three comics. The entire pack was only 97 cents. A Whitman Value Pack. Yet, I would have to share it with Shawn. He got one issue; I took the other two--including the one with the mysterious lady with coin eyes. (the other issue was #306 and I would assume Shawn got #305 or #308. 30 years has purged it from my memory) I think we got some penny bubble gum that day too. I went back to Kristen's house and read both issues. I was re-reading them when my mother arrived to pick me up.

The book rests in my hands. I feel magic tingling in my finger tips as I know this comic is a piece of my history. It was the first of many more comics. I scan the pages. The ads were different then. Crosman airgun rifle by Coleman, a Superman The Movie contest where the actual cape was the grand prize, a Star Wars digital watch if you joined the youth Opportunity Sales Club and footlocker of 100 toy soldiers for only a $1.75! The classified ads are also a incredible flashback-- ads for X-ray spex!, Kids, build your own flying saucer! and Muscles Fast! Free book for only 25 cents!

I must really stop and re-read this book again soon. But for now, I slide it back into the Mylar sleeve. It still holds the place of the first comic in my collection...

Video Games: Kathy's Arcade

2009-06-08T22:54:00.000-07:00

Before Playstation 3’s and Xboxes, the only way to play a video game was to get on your bikes and go to a place that had dozens of tall wooden cabinets that also housed a array of circuits, micro chip processors and electronic wiring. Back in 1981 or 1982, we would go to a small local business called Kathy’s Arcade. To remember Kathy’s Arcade is to remember a piece of 1980s culture and technology.

It was an average day. School was out and it was around 3:30 in the afternoon. C——— and I rode our bikes to his house and figured we just hang out and watch TV. A few months prior his family had purchased the new Atari 2600. Oh, I so envied that Atari 2600. So we started to play the 2600. He had all the classic games too: Breakout, Centipede, and Yar’s Revenge. Unfortunately, I would never get an Atari 2600. I would get the Coleco Gemini system-an Atari clone-for Christmas ‘82. I would enjoy it just as much as C——— did his 2600 but I was still the kid that did not have an Atari system but the knock off. I mother bought it from Sears and it came with the game Donkey Kong. My grandmother would even enjoy playing the DK.

Yet, even the 2600 failed at being ultra cool. The best video games were the big console games down at the arcades. Games like Karate Champ, Joust and Tron were just a few that had superior graphics and game play. The closet arcade was a place called Kathy’s Arcade.

It was that afternoon way back in 1982 that C——— and I desired to go to Kathy’s Arcade. Yet, we didn’t have any money. C——— insisted it was no problem. He knew of his parents emergency money fund. He disappeared to the back of the house and reappeared about five minutes later. With his return, he showed off the crisp $20 bill he now was shoving into his pocket. Now that we had come into a small fortune, we ran outside and hopped on our bikes and peddled toward Kathy’s

Kathy’s Arcade was a small stuffy business on the corner of Main and Poe, a few blocks away from C———’s house. Once inside, it was a utopia of beeps and bleeps, 8-bit synthesized music, and cigarette smoke and billiards tables. The front of the establishment was the home of 12 pool tables. In the center was a small bar and concession area. Next to the concession was the beloved token machine. The machine ate $1 and $5 bills and spit out small brass tokens. C——— pulled the $20 bill from his pocket and traded it for four $5 bills from Kathy. Exchanging the five dollar bills for 30 tokens—cling, cling, cling— it was off to the back half of Kathy’s Arcade. The back half was the area shrouded in darkness with over 20 arcade games. Flashing screens, the sounds of beeps and bings, the room was a casino for children yet there were no payouts—unless you count the hours of entertainment.

Kathy’s Arcade was owned and operated by a grouchy old lady named Kathy (who’d thunk, huh?) She was a lady that had a Marlboro face, heavy lines and wrinkles caused by decades of smoking. I don’t recall whatever happened to Kathy but I do know she ran her little arcade for several more years. I know we would go there in high school and rent a pool table by the hour. We’d play until midnight. A place to go on Friday nights when cruising was just too boring.

Although there are a few arcades around today, they are not the arcades of the 1980s. They aren’t the smoked filled holes in the wall. They don’t just have games with joysticks and fire buttons. Today, we live in a world of 1080p Playstation 3 games and first person shooters, life simulation and MMORPGs. Yet, when I think of an arcade, I think of Kathy’s Arcade—something the 1980s created and something the new millennium destroyed.

Flash Fiction: Pop Tarts and Coffee

2009-06-06T20:29:00.000-07:00

Soft, platinum-blonde pony-tail swings from side to side. She walks like a ballerina. The ball of her foot first then her heel. Her name is Joni. We met at the mall candy store. I was digging in the Carmel Apple Jelly Bellys, she was reaching for the Pina Colada ones.
Behind us, a child holds his Power Ranger to the sky. He shouts "Mighty morphin time" at the top of his lungs. Hands sticky with the residue of licorice and jaw breakers, he makes fighting noises and karate moves. I look at the innocence and wish for a time long ago, a time when I was his age. Six Million Dollar Man, Star Wars, and GIJOE; heart and mind at play. I'm glad I don't have to shake the young man's hand.
I accept being an adult and all the privileges there of and all the pains as well. I look at Joni floating though the green chlorinated water of the apartments pool and wonder where we'll be in six months. I wonder what it would've been like to have known her as a little girl when I was a little boy. What would I think of her then? Now we're grown-ups. She walks over to the patio table. Pleated mini skirt, soft white swimsuit, velvet scrunchy, and sandals like those worn by ancient Greek Amazons. Her hair is wet and bound in a pony-tail. Her hand warm in mine, her nipples poking through the delicate cotton, her moist lips against my cheek, she whispers in my ear. It was the night my parents were out of town. We're alone; eighteen; senior year; prom; going off to college. We spend the night just sitting in the floor and watching TV. The flickering television plays reruns of I Dream of Jeanie; Brady Bunch; Partridge Family; Saturday Morning Cartoons. The house smells of Pop Tarts and coffee; Joni's favorites. She sits in front of the TV watching the Smurfs with a coloring book the size of the telephone directory. A sixty-four count box of Crayons is at her reach. Each and every color of the spectrum awaits to be used. I loved her quirks and I thought we would be together forever. She loves to color. I love to watch her. With the Prussian Blue in hand, she sits Indian style on the tan carpet, scribbling color on the page never wandering outside the lines. She asks to stay the weekend.
She takes a shower, I sit and listen to Depeche Mode's Somebody. I hear the jingling of shower curtain rings; shower stops. She exits and stands only in a large fluffy towel tied tight at her breasts. Water beads on her shoulders. She asks if I have something she can wear. I say she can help herself to what ever is in my closet. When she comes out, she's wearing a pair of my flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. I sit with her and massage her bare feet, until she falls asleep. I whisper to her unconscious ears, "Let's get married." She ignores me and rolls over.

draft: 6.22.97

TV: Tranzor Z

2009-06-05T21:01:00.000-07:00

Summer 1985. School’s out. Nothing to do but be a kid. Sleeping in was almost a waste of time. I awake with the sound of the air conditioner’s soft rhythmic hum above me. Its cool breeze blows down across my body. Mother’s clanking make-up bottles and hair spray cans as she gets ready for work. I rub my eyes and jump from bed to run down the hall to the living room. I push the on button to the 1977 Zenith television and rotate the dial to channel 13 – dup, dup, dup, dup. The credits to The Flintstones roll:

Someday, maybe Fred will win the fight, And the cat will stay out for the night. Yabba dabba doo time. Dabba doo time. Wiiiilllllllmaaa!

I run to the kitchen and grab the box of Cap’n Crunch with crunch berries and pour a bowl. Milk glugs from the carton down onto the crisp peanut butter crunch bites. White droplets splash down to the counter top. The spoon clanks as it hits the blue and white Corningware bowl. Jumping back to the sofa and placing the bowl of cereal on the coffee table, the commercials end and the announcer booms that the following show starts next. Tranzor Z! My mother gives me a odd stare as I’m the kid up at 7 AM on a summer day. Yet, robot shows totally rule and I don’t dare miss an episode; it’s serialized. Each day the following show continued the story. Tranzor Z was just like Voltron but Tranzor Z could launch its fist to punch through galactic monsters. Not to mention a nice catchy theme song...

2nd Grade: Flings

2009-06-04T20:46:00.000-07:00

Sitting in Ms. Carol's 2nd grade classroom, my desk is sandwiched between two girls, Kelly and Jamie. Small desks with storage under the seat. I work on math problems. The two girls look across me at each other and snicker and giggle. Recess bell rings and I run outside. We play soccer on the playground. My cub scout uniform covered in grass and dirt. Jamie and Kelly sit in the cubbies writing on their girly pink and yellow writing tablets. I walk by on my way to the steps back to class. They giggle and stare. I pretend its the uniform that has these two girls so enamored. I push out my chest and stride past like I'm Col. Steve Austin from Six Million Dollar Man. Back in the classroom, Ms. Carol's small AM/FM radio plays something by Air Supply--Lost in Love. Kelly and Jaime continue to stare and giggle. The invitation to Liz's birthday party sits on my desk. I look to see who else has one. There's only 5 or 6. Shawn and I are the only boys invited. Afternoon literature. Girls pass notes. Monday night TV--That's Incredible! Jamie nudges my arm and passes one to me. She nods as to confirm I can open it. Inside the note: who do you like better Jamie or Kelly, check the box by the name. Second Grade flings. I look to both and flush red. Day of weirdness. 3 o'clock bell rings and I grab my backpack. Jamie looks to me and smiles-- seeya Saturday at Liz's. I swallow and immediately become nervous.

Baseball: The Day the Magic Died

2009-06-03T22:05:00.000-07:00

My daughter's baseball team almost won their first game of the 2009 season on Monday night. Although they were playing better than they did 6 weeks ago, they had met a team on that field, that raining Monday night, that was their equal. For the first time all season, my daughter Bree knew what it felt like to be a winner. Unfortunately, the game would flip the other way on one crucial error in the 2nd inning. (I should also state that little league games are 5 innings or an hour, 45 minutes. And most these games rarely get past the 3rd or 4th inning.) The other team would pull off three runs in the bottom of the third and leave the field on a walk off win-- 12-11.

So, when I was her age, I played baseball every spring. My mother's boss and owner of Chewning Footwear sponsored a team. Usually made up of the children of his employees and friends, the team performed very well. We were never a champion winning team but it was fun. The first year I played I was so young that I could barely hit the ball off a tee. I wasn't the greatest player in the field either and delegated to Left Field (although my desire was to play 3rd Base). When you hit off a tee, the ball rarely, I mean rarely goes past the infield. Thus, the outfields are pretty quiet during games. Year Two, nearly the entire team moved out of the pee wee class and now were hitting off a pitchers throw. Again, I wasn't that good but I managed to hit a few dingers, run to first. But what I do remember is that little league baseball in 1981 had something it no longer has -- chatter. Hey batter batter batter, hey batter batter batter, swing! The coaches weren't afraid to tell us that we sucked and we failed to play baseball when we lost games. The coach would load us all in the bed of his pickup to take us to the Tastee Freeze for ice cream if we won. If we lost, we got nothing, unless you count the laps around the bases we had to run at the next practice. Our uniforms were gold and black. we bought Big League Chew or Fun Dip candy from the concession stand. I remember going behind the concession stand to put a cup that was about five sizes too big into my pants so I could gear up as a catcher one game because Chad wasn't able to play. I remember that little league was extremely competitive. Parents would yell at the umpire, sometimes yell at the coaches. When I finally reached the age to go into the minors (that's what we called the 12 year old division) Chewning's no longer sponsored a team. Thus, I was now in a pool of kids being assigned to teams sponsored by other local businesses. That was my final year of little league baseball. Not that I lost the love for the game but because I lost interest in a team and league that cared more about winning than teaching and improving one's skills. That final year was 1983, I was playing for the Albertson's team. Our uniforms were a baby blue which I always hated. I wanted to play for the Gibson's team. Their uniforms were red and gray. During that final year, I was getting better. I won't lie, I wasn't a great hitter but I could make contact. It was that year that I broke my arm and would nail the fate of my baseball career. I remember that game to this day. I was on second, runner on first. Some kid named Scott hit a nice chopper to short stop. Being forced to run, I headed for third base. Yet the opposing team's third baseman which I think was the Gibson's team, was blocking the base and standing strong in the baseline (an illegal action by the way). We collided with full running force. Not sure how but I broke my arm on impact. Yet I didn't know it at the time. It wasn't until the next inning that I couldn't hold the bat that I realized I had a problem. The coach thought I was being a pansy and I needed to get out there and hit the ball. I would drop the bat in mid swing. It was the ump that called for me to be pulled as injured. My mother would take me to the emergency room and I would find that I had a broken arm. I would be out for 6 - 8 weeks and the season would be over. When it came to signing up for baseball the following summer, I conveniently let my application miss the deadline. I wouldn't play baseball again. It was the game...the day...the magic died.

I regret not playing baseball during high school. I wouldn't play something similar until I played on a friend's beer league softball team. I played Third Base and my jersey number was 5. And I was pretty good.

Maybe Bree's team will win this Saturday. We'll have to wait and see.

TV: Six Million Dollar Man

2009-05-30T20:53:00.000-07:00

"Steve Austin, astronaut. A man barely alive. Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to build the world's first bionic man. Steve Austin will be that man. Better than he was before. Better, stronger, faster."

Wow! I loved that show. Steve Austin was partly man and partly robot. Not only did he have robotic parts but he was like a super-hero. He could run really fast and lift giant rocks. He had this cool eye that could zoom in on anything.

I watched this show in prime time. I had the toys. Steve Austin was as tall as a GI Joe. Or what we collectors today call 12 inch Action Figure. I played with him along with the inflatable command center while I watched the show. The command center was huge. I remember crawling inside so I could seat Steve at the chair and work the tiny cables and switches the electronic station had. It had to be big as I know it took forever to blow the dang thing up. The doll...um...action figure had this small view finder on the back of his head so you could look through his bionic eye. And if you rolled up his rubber skin on his bionic arm, I could take out these little chip boards or the actual "bionics". He even came with the infamous red running suit. I had the bionic capsule, too. It was this rocket shaped canister that Steve could go inside and it folded out to be a bionic table if I remember right.

I don't think I had any of the other characters--as I know there was a Oscar Goldman and a Bionic Woman version too. And no, I don't have these toys today. These must have been sold in one of our yard sales in the very early 80s.

I've watched the show since and still find it entertaining. I even watched the Bionic Marriage of Steve and Jamie Summers when I was twenty-something.

There's been rumor of a Six Million Dollar Man reboot for many years. At one time it was going to be a Kevin Smith movie, then it turned into a big budget comedy for Jim Carrey. I would love for this to be remade like the new Star Trek movie but you have to do it serious with a big nod for the old show. Granted, I think if the show was adjusted for today's dollar, it would be the Six Billion Dollar Man!

White Sands!

2009-05-29T23:02:00.000-07:00

White Sands!

I look at the photograph in the big leather photo album and marvel at the past. I'm wearing green shorts with white stripes on the sides, a light blue T-shirt with a Star Wars iron-on on the front, and knee socks with dorky red stripes. The seventies were odd, but hold memories. It appears in the picture that I'm in the middle of a Minnesota winter, but I tell my friends I'm not. They laugh at my fashion sense. I grin and think back to that image...
Afternoon sun burns bright. Its red soul standing sentinel in the sky. Warming and lighting the day. I look out upon the national park. A gypsum crystal sea awaits, blinding and sparkling in an ocean of endless dunes; waves of sand fill the horizon. I dream of childhood ventures. I dream of family get-togethers.
The temperature rises and I wipe tear drops of sweat from my brow. I'm amazed this winter wonderland exists in the heat of summer. I move my tennis shoes out into the desert covered with snow that never melts and I explore this undiscovered country. I wonder how this appeared to Cortez, to the Spanish, to the French in a time long ago. The edge of the desert glowing with a halo of pure heavenly light. It must have taken their breaths away and brought them to their knees in prayer.
Blue-green, rocky, sharp mountains stand watch over the kingdom of imagination. I stroll through this world and get lost among the dunes. North, south, east, west are forgotten. I look above my head to see only large smoke gray clouds. Puffed like popcorn by mother nature, those clouds become heavy and rain pellets fall. Not a shower, not a sprinkle. The hot air evaporates the water before it has a chance to hit the ground. Only a drop or two stains the sand. I hope it doesn't rain (although I love the rain; the way it washes the dust from the air). My mother calls me back to the picnic table.
Across this sea of sand, small islands grow. Islands of Yuccas. Each a platoon of slender shafts, with their yellow blossoms and emerald, razor bayonets standing at noble attention. I respect them. And I envy them. They never leave this spectacular place. Forever standing at home. I see my mother and grandmother setting the picnic table. The tables are old with arched canopies, some green, some yellow, like crescent moons. Uncle Mike lights the small, charred, black barbecue grill. I look back at my trail of footprints in the sand.
Once an ocean. Now, a valley of gypsum deposits. A beautiful way to go out, I think. Time lost; past and present; pages of time. I swim, dive and run in this forgotten sea. Looking for Easter eggs, chasing and surfing the wandering dunes. The smell of flame-kissed burgers floats to my nose. Cousins sit on the green '66 Rambler, parked next to the splintered table. Music squeaks out of an old AM/FM radio. Probably something by the Partridge Family. Ice cream oozes out of a pink carton, drips, forming a stinky pond beneath the weathered wood. Can we eat it now before it melts away? My mother slaps my hand back; the spoon drops to the bench.
Now, I'm all grown up. And, I hope to return to this place often, when the future seems so uncertain. The world awaits and I fear it. But in this place I will be happy, always remembering my past because that was when life was easiest. I will remember it by many names: New Mexico's most "enchanted land", a blinding wonder; Oz of the soul; Zia's promised land, of eternal snow -- White Sands!

* * *
Christopher V. Whitfield
--1999 (revised)

TV: Emergency!

2009-05-29T22:58:00.001-07:00

I remember this show as Emergency 51. Most likely because the Station and Truck number was 51 and the show was named Emergency!. The child mind is sometimes an interesting one. This show has to be in my list of all time favorite shows mainly because I remember watching this show not only in the 1970s when it ran in prime-time but also in the syndication re-runs on KTLA in the early 80s. Not only do I remember watching this show but I had the toys. Yep, they had toys for Emergency! and unfortunately I don’t have them any more. I wish I did.

The show was exciting. The guys DeSoto and Gage would be sitting at the table playing checkers and those awesome tones would sound overhead as the emergency call would come in. The men would run to either Engine 51 or Squad 51. The show was no ER but it had its medical drama along with the action of a rescue show. I always remember DeSoto and Gage calling in the emergency to Rampart and Rampart would always state, “give the victim 100cc saline and transport to Rampart” Then the ambulance would arrive and whisk the poor hurt victim away.

So, I remember my 7th birthday in 1979. My mother and I lived at the old Air Base in Roswell. When Walker Air Force Base closed the housing became rental properties. I don’t recall how long we lived there but it was just in the 1970s and I remember the duplex apartment being cold and dull. The events of my birthday are vague and I remember them to be mixed with happiness, selfishness and depression. I had a few of my friends and cousins over. Not too many children. There’s a picture of all of us in my mother’s photo album. Without going and looking at the photo it was: Shawn, Craig, my cousin Greg and Arnie and me. My cousin Arnie is wearing one of my birthday presents in the photo.

I mainly remember these events as over time, I have seen the photos in the big photo album at my mother’s. The last time I looked at it was when I was showing my soon-to-be-wife in 1998. So forgive me if in the last ten years I have some of the details screwed up.

So the present that Arnie was wearing in the photo was my new Emergency! firefighter role-play gear. It was a red fireman’s helmet with the Emergency 51 logo on the front, a plastic air tank, hose, face mask and tackle box. I was totally excited but I know selfishness and depression kicked in when I had to allow my younger cousin to proceed to wear it for the rest of the party. I’m the birthday kid and I don’t even get a picture of me in my latest present. No…that would be my cousin. Hint the emotions I remember from that time.

TV: Battle of the Planets

2009-05-28T21:34:00.000-07:00

I thought I would tell my stories with a common theme. The theme for now is TV shows. I wrote earlier on the joy Land of the Lost brought to my childhood. I thought what about the other shows. I won’t lie; there are a lot of them. So in the effort of not going too crazy I will limit it to those that made and impact on me and those that I still watch today and find enjoyment.

Battle of the Planets (1978) 1979

BOTP was huge when I was only six and seven. I can’t recall the exact day or month I discovered this show but I do know I was in the 2nd grade. How do I know this? I would watch the show after school at Grandma Combs. Oh, she wasn’t my grandmother. Heck, we weren’t even related. She was the lady that watched me and a few other kids after school. Yet she insisted we all call her Grandma Combs, so we did. Today, that might raise some eyebrows but back then, we didn’t care.

TV watching at Grandma Combs was a unique affair. There was only one television and usually it needed to be shared by several children so everyone had to agree on the show. I was lucky that we got to watch BOTP every other day while the in-between days was the Flintstones…or was it the Tom and Jerry. I can never really remember. But I do remember that Travis and I would always demand BOTP in the afternoons. The show was on KCOP out of Los Angeles. Our local cable provider back in those days offered a whopping 13 channels of content. Four of those channels were from the LA market-- KTTV, KTLA, KCOP and KCAL. I still remember all of those channels. KTLA and KCOP were the cool channels as they played afternoon cartoons. KCAL and KTTV played old 50s and 60s sitcoms and old movies. No fun for a boy at 6 years old. Yet, KCOP always had the newer and differnt shows. Please note: this channel will be mentioned again and again. So around 4 pm in the afternoon I would park my body in the floor of Grandma Combs'living room. Sometimes I would lay down with my arms and elbows in a plush pillow. And I'd watch Battle of the Planets. The show would start and I would instinctively hum the theme song. This show was nothing like anything else on television.

The show revolved around five teenage characters that would change from ordinary people into fighting hawk-like ninjas and battle an alien invasion force determined to rule the earth. There was Mark--the pilot and leader; there was Jason--the race car driver; there was Keyop--who talked in stutters and clicks; there was Tiny--the mechanic and pilot of the Phoenix; and then there was Princess--the cute girl of the team. Chief Anderson would alert 7-Zark-7 to gather G-Force. The five members would race back to Center Neptune and if they couldn't, they would rendevous with the Phoenix in flight. The Phoenix was this ultra sleek ship that was heavily armed and could fly at great speeds. And when she did, she would appear like the fiery Phoenix of myth.

Like I mentioned, the show wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen. It was a show about teenagers that were like superheroes and part of this super secret team to protect Earth. Even the animation style and look of the show was different than any other shows on at the time: like Challenge of the Super Friends, Johnny Quest, Scooby-Doo or Dastard and Muttley. I couldn’t get enough of it. My eyes were glued to the TV until the end credits would roll. I even remember some of the TV commercials that would air at the same time. Kenner would run Star Wars figure ads and there was always the commercial for a Hot Wheels track.

Mark, Jason, Princess, Keyop and Tiny didn't have powers every day. They would have to transform into their hawk-like persona. They would do this via a wrist device and shouting the word, “Transmute!”. They would lift their arm and bring it in front of their face in a sideways "V". "Transmute!" The screen would shimmer and have a kaleidoscope look and they would turn into the birds of prey. Mark was Eagle, Jason was Condor, Keyop was Sparrow, Princess was Swan and Tiny was Owl. My mother had bought me a Star Wars digital watch sometime around then (which I still have today…ok…I’m a pack rat) and I would pretend my watch was the transmute device that Keith and Jason used. I would contort my arm and make the same sideways "V" and yell “Transmute!”. I begged my mother to sew my a cape and costume that looked like their outfits, but she never did. So my imagination was the only solution. I would ride my bike and pretend it was the jet Mark flew to make the tail of the Phoenix. It would be about another 5-6 years before I would become mesmerized by a cartoon. That show would be Robotech. It would be Robotech that introduced me to what I had no idea of in 1978-79 that BOTP was an import of Japanese animation. Nor did I know that it had a different plot and was re-dubbed. Nor would I know that 7-Zark-7 was not in the original Japanese show, Science Ninja Team Gatchaman. 7-Zark-7 was created by the American producers to give the show more of a kids appeal. And he helped hide the edited out violence.

It was the year 2001 and Rhino was releasing BOTP on DVD. I, without hesitation, bought all the DVDs and watch them to this day. They never got around to releasing all 85 episodes. I think they only got about 36 released before Rhino stopped releasing them. Today, the original show Gatchaman is on DVD and I acquired those. I like to watch the original version too. Funny thing is, it has the same theme song just different lyrics.

Memories…..

Great Joy and Great Sadness

2009-05-27T19:52:00.000-07:00

My grandmother passed away 10 years ago last January. Sadly, I didn’t realize it was ten years ago until I started hearing the buzz about the ten year anniversary of The Phantom Menace.

TPM had been such a big thing to me back in 1998 and 1999. The excitement of a new Star Wars movies was on everyone's mind. So, it was a real shock when I got that phone call late one night that my grandmother’s health was failing and my mother had checked her back into the hospital. She warned me that this might be the time to prepare for the worse although I didn't want to hear it. I wouldn't hear it. In my own rationale, I knew she would get better. She had done so in the past. See, she battled several health issues and cancer for about three years before that fateful phone call. All those times before, she got better and went back home. Yes, deep down, I knew she wasn’t that strong independent woman that had raised three kids on her own after her husband died early in life in mid-1966.

Back in the summer of 1998, I took my soon-to-be wife down to meet the family. It was that summer (and the only time) my wife met and spoke with my grandmother. At the time, she was spending a few days in the hospital and recovering from the latest treatments of her cancer. We, the family, knew she couldn’t go back home to her small apartment in Alamogordo, so it was up to me and the rest family to assist in moving her into my mother's place in Roswell. In between trips to the hospital, and with nothing better to do in New Mexico, I took my soon-to-be-wife to all the famous locales. We went to Carlsbad Caverns and White Sands. On the way back from White Sands, I stopped in Alamogordo and at my grandmother’s apartment. I had a Nissan truck at the time and I was going to take a few things back to Roswell that she needed and she insisted I take a few things back home with me--like the table, chairs, microwave and some dishes--all to start the new life with my soon-to-be-wife. As we finished loading up the truck, I told my wife that I needed to go back inside for a few seconds. My excuse was to make sure we got everything and lock up. Yet, my sole intent was to simply reflect. That day would be the last time I stood or sat in my grandmother’s apartment. It was the home she had made for herself for as long as I could remember. I truly don’t have any true memories of her other homes (the photos from the 70s tell me I was there but I can't remember them.) When I think of my grandmother’s house, it was that little one room apartment in Alamogordo. The apartment that so many things happened. In that apartment we watched the Space Shuttle Columbia land at White Sands Missle Range. It was that apartment that I drew countless sketches of super-heroes. It was that appartment that helped define my life as every summer I would spent many days there.

The earliest memory of that apartment would be the summer she moved in. I remember that summer very clearly. I was 9 years old and spending the summer with my grandmother as I so often did. Yet this summer she was relocating back to Alamogordo. A few weeks earlier, she had signed the paper work on the apartment and now she was able to move in. I helped her load up the car and we drove to Alamogordo. We arrived a day early so we had to stay the first night in a motel. I still remember the motel too. It was the Satellite Inn in Alamogordo. I remember the neon sign that was a planet with a bunch of star-like satellites encircling around it. We picked it mainly for its Sci-Fi reference. The room was nothing special, but I do remember begging my grandmother for a couple of quarters because the bed was one of those vibrating kind. I had never been on a vibrating bed. I still remember the coin box that was next to headboard. It looked like those you find on the penny horse at King Soopers. Long story short, she moved in and it would begin a long history of summers I would spend with her in that apartment.

It was the apartment that I sat in the floor under a fan reading comic books. I loved Alamogordo for one reason: it had a awesome newsstand that had hundreds of cool things. I remember going into town (that’s what she always called it) and going to the Yucca Newsstand. It was the only place that had hundreds of comics in wire racks. It sold coins and paperbacks too. I can still smell it--the smell of printed paper and tobacco. It also sold pipe tobacco and supplies. It was that newsstand that I saw my very first images of the new Star Wars movie called Return of the Jedi. It was an image of a incomplete Death Star and a Star Destroyer. The image was on the cover of the movie's collector magazine. My grandmother bought it for me. And I still have it to this day. I would later go back there to buy the comic adaptations of Return of the Jedi and to buy other Star Wars comics. I bought the ROTJ novelization there. I bought the ROTJ poster magazine there. It was my favorite store while I was that age. Not until a store called Greenspray Books did I love such a store. It saddens me that I wasn’t able to go back to that newsstand before it closed. If the stories are true, it closed around 2000, only a short time after my grandmother died.

So many Star Wars memories focus around my grandmother. She was the person who drove me to Kmart back in the Summer of 1983 to buy my first ROTJ action figure. It was a Gamorrean Guard. I still have it to this day (along with all my childhood SW action figures). Why I bought the Gamorrean Guard I do not know. I guess I thought the pig dude looked cool and he came with that neat meat clever-like ax. Seriously, to be more realistic, I think that was the only figure they had at the time. And I was determined to buy a ROTJ figure that day. Thus, it had to be a character from ROTJ and on a ROTJ card. Even late in 1983, the store still had dozens of the Empire Strikes Back carded figures on the shelf. Most being characters from Star Wars but on an ESB cardback.

Thus, the reason I forge this tale, is to honor my grandmother. She had so much to do with my early Star Wars memories. She entertained my Star Wars fascination then, and even when I became an adult. I wish I could have shared some stories of the new movies with her. The stories of my friends and I standing in the rain and lines at Celebration. The rushing out at midnight to buy toys. The seeing TPM five times in one day on May 19th. 1999 was definitely a very notable year--it saw the release of a new Star Wars prequel movie and my grandmother's death. It was a huge stamp in my yearbook of life. It was a time of both great joy and great sadness. I shall never forget. I remember those times not only for me, but for her...

Rain vs. Klingons...a Celebration Flashback.

2009-05-26T18:51:00.000-07:00

I mentioned earlier that listening and watching the rain inspired me to remember back to the first Star Wars Celebration. For the record, Celebration back in 1999 was plagued by three days of nothing but rain. At a traditional convention, inside a convention center, this would have no effect. Yet, Star Wars Celebration was a mixed venue. It was inside an aircraft hanger, now a local air museum and several large tents erected in a vacant field across from the museum’s small parking lot.

So, on my way to work, while spending Memorial Day weekend with of on-and-off again rain for three days, I make this assumption to myself that perhaps this is one of those rain storms that comes every ten years. It would make sense. Within a few weekends of the tenth anniversary of Celebration, we have this long weekend of rain. If that is the case, then this is good news as we need the rain as Colorado has been in a drought for the last few years. Although most that attended Celebration will complain and whine about the rain, I wouldn’t have changed that weekend a bit ten years ago. It made it memorable. Actually, I don’t have any major complaints for the event. Yes there was rain, massive lines and a poor venue, but I would trade any average weekend to go back. Thus, this brings me to the very few complaints I had. Those being:

1. The security. This would be my number one complaint. The security company hired for the event had only been hired a few days prior to the event. See, the original plan was not to have “security” per se. Instead it would be manned by volunteers and paid employees of the Fan Club. Yet, a few weeks prior our area was whacked with the Columbine tragedy and every one was fearful. Just like the Sith want. So, the Fan Club hired a security agency that actually works security at heavy metal concerts. So those punks were expecting the worse. They thought we’d all be drunk, high or carrying weapons. None of those things ever happened mind you. This is a geek festival not a biker gang reunion. I had my own run in with these jerks when they tried to confiscate my friend’s and I's lightsaber hilts. They were made from aluminum and looked like a lightsaber. Yet they interpreted these as weapons. --Only if I beat you with it! After arguing with these guys for about ten minutes and demanding a convention employee assist in the issue, they were told ease up on this one side of the weapon policy. And for the record, the weapon policy at this Celebration was much much more strict than at any other Celebration and we had Columbine to thank for that. Basically, no blasters of any kind were allowed at the Celebration. I'm thankful that didn't hold true for the other Celebrations. Enough of that.

2. Pepsi. Wow. Really, how could one complain about Pepsi. My wife has a heart condition and cannot have sodas with caffeine. Pepsi was one of the major sponsors of the event and of Star Wars that year. You couldn’t go from one corner of the convention to the other without being hit with advertising and samples. One of the Pepsi reps overheard my wife complain that Pepsi had no products with “no caffeine”. To which the rep became over protective of Pepsi and besieged my wife with statements that Pepsi had many “no caffeine” products. The issue my wife had was not Pepsi in general but the Pepsi products at Celebration as all of them were caffeinated versions. I guess they wanted us all alert and awake. Even a simple Sierra Mist selection would have been nice but nah-noooo!

3. And the third complaint was...was....ummm.... the Klingons. Yeah the Klingons that crashed the party on Sunday afternoon. I know this complaint cant be held accountable to the event promoters… or can it? Maybe they should have seen them coming and asked them to leave. Then again, it was funny to see how much Star Trek bashing they got. Now that I recall this, I think they were only around a few hours…mmm…I wonder why. Dorks!

So that was the worst parts of Celebration. The things that stick out most are walking through the Archives and seeing original models and props for the first time in my life, getting my picture taken with a life sized Darth Maul and a life sized Jar Jar, seeing Anakin’s podracer, seeing the life sized (sorta 2/3's scale) model of the X-wing for the first time, interacting with the fans, seeing panels with Ray Park and Warrick Davis, seeing a fan that had such a good Darth Maul costume on I thought it was Ray Park himself, sitting in the dining tent and eating a lunch of Pizza Hut and KFC in little con boxes and having Anthony Daniels walk the line and stop in front of me to chat for a few seconds.

Yes, that weekend holds true as one of the best of my life. Its only match would be the weekends of Celebration II, Celebration III and Celebration IV. Runner ups would be San Diego Comic Con and my trips to Disneyland and Disney World, but that's for another story later...

When I was young, "Lost" meant "Land of the Lost"...

2009-05-25T21:32:00.000-07:00

So I wake up this morning and flick the Bravia on to watch some TV as we eat breakfast. Browsing the HD channels, I rest on Sci-fi to find they are playing Land of the Lost. Not just one episode, but a whole marathon of episodes. Nothing but Land of the Lost, all day!

My wife and I immediately reconnect with the show. Being the same age, we experienced many things at the same time as one another; although we didn't know each other as children. So, with that, I'm thinking this show was much more popular than I remember. I thought it was one of those forgotten or unknown cult shows that very few remember, like the Tomorrow People or You Can't Do That On Television. Land of the Lost, or LOTL, ran from 1974-1976. A bit too early for us to consciously remember it in first run broadcast. Thus, that means we definitely watched LOTL in reruns. Without doing the research, I'm going to assume I saw the reruns via one of the independent channels out of Los Angeles; I'm thinking KCOP or KTLA played the show on Saturdays--late Saturday mornings after the current shows had ended. Shows like Smurfs and Spider-man and His Amazing Friends. I'm guessing I was about 9 or 10 at the time, better stored in my memory. That would put the time around 1980-1981. I may have some earlier memories of the show, dating back into the 1970s, but only vague ones like a whisper of a ghost.

What I do remember from the show, along with the Sleestaks, Chaka, and the cheesy video effects, was the character Holly. Boy do I remember Holly. I can honestly say I had the biggest crush on her when I was little. This crush was different than the crushes I had on Anne Lockhart and Heather Thomas. This was a girl that was the same age as me thus making the crush a bit more personal. In my mind, she wasn't much different than the girls in my own grade school class. I couldn't tell you what she had that Sissy P———, Jamie S——— or Elizabeth F——— didn't have. Maybe it was her blond hair in braided pigtails (a hold out of Cindy Brady) or her smile with those puffy chipmunk cheeks. I'm sure it wasn't the fashion sense of a red plaid shirt and those burgundy pants. I guess it was unexplainable. My wife gives me a strange look when I tell her this story. Oh well...

So, I tell my daughter, who is now going on 10 years old, that I watched this show all the time when I was her age. I tell her about the scary Sleestaks and the dinosaurs. We begin to watch it for a while and I ask her how she likes it so far. She looks at me and says "it's pretty good but the dinosaurs look really fake." I had to laugh and agree. She also reminds me there is a movie coming out and I have to remind her that this show came first and the movie is a big Hollywood revival movie. Yes, the original show didn't have the special effects we take for granted today. Yet it still had magic. It's timeless. I would be lying if I didn't say the show had an impact on how I turned out or how it had an impact on my youth. I wonder if the movie will do the same for kids today. Most likely not. And unlike some shows that I enjoyed as a child, I'm still enjoying this one as I watch it again. Perhaps, it's because of the memories it's igniting from my youth.

Stormtroopers Here?

2009-05-24T22:18:00.000-07:00

With today's cool and refreshing rain showers and the mild thunderstorms, I started thinking back to the first Star Wars Celebration. It was during that weekend that we got three days of intense rain.

So over ten years ago, my wife, our friend Lance and myself were preparing for the first Star Wars Celebration. We had spent a few weeks, if not a couple months, buying prop items and working over a sewing machine creating our first Jedi costumes.

During that process, we had also acquired DL-44 "Han Solo" Blasters and replicas of the belt and holster Luke wore in the Empire Strikes Back. We were not planning on wearing these as part of our Jedi costumes but we had thought about working on a smuggler or rebellion inspired style costume. The costumes would never be constructed but we did have a short opportunity to wear the blasters.

The rain had started Thursday evening. It wouldn't quit until Sunday morning. So that night, Lance and I were going to go over to the Wings of the Rockies and scout out the Celebration. Not sure if the Celebration was official opened for business that Thursday night, but we went out there anyways. I had thrown on my red water-proof Eddie Bauer Weather Edge shell. It had the streaming effect of Han's parka from ESB yet without the weight of a full winter coat. Along with the jacket, I decided to give the boot spats a try and to top the outfit off, I strapped on the DL-44 and belt. Not an official costume of sorts, but I felt like some kind of Spice Trader or Bounty Hunter. With communication prior to Lance picking me up (to head over to the Celebration), Lance had put something very similar on as well, only his jacket was blue.

As we arrived, the place was fairly quiet. There was some small activity of venders setting up. We walked right through the main doors and I don't recall anyone wanting to see our badges although we were wearing them just in case. I remember walking in that night. The scene was not that of a busy convention. But the first thing I saw that evening were Stormtroopers. I turned and looked at Lance and spoke, "Stormtroopers here?". The stood in a small alcove off to the right of the main doors. We were in awe. These weren't some cheap Halloween costumes we were looking at. They had to be from Lucasfilm-they were that good. I had never been so close to Stormtroopers of this coolness and quality. The last Stormtrooper costume I remember seeing in person was the plastic jumpsuit and mask I had when I was 8. Yet, here, in front of my 26 year old eyes, were Stormtrooper costumes that were made out of real armor-platic armor anyways. Several of the Stormtroopers were clean and a couple were dirty with shoulder pauldrons. Not only were there real Stormtroopers, there was real Sandtroopers too!

I remember asking one of the guys, where did you get the armor? He said that there was a special outfit that could provide it. He said he was part of an organization called Vader's Legion. So, they weren't official Lucasfilm Stormtroopers. This gave me hope of getting my own Stormtrooper outfit. When I asked how much something like stormtrooper armor cost, he replied with a cool "$1000." My hopes and dreams of becoming a stormtrooper were immediately deflated. There was no way I could afford that. So all I could do was dream.

So, one of the very first memories of Star Wars Celebration was that of Stormtroopers and the real ones that were standing in that small alcove inside the museum's doors. Before the weekend was out, I would even see a black stormtrooper and Snowtroopers. It was that awe and envy that made that weekend a series of great memories.

Oh, and I recall the question that I fielded many times that night, "what character are you?"

To be a Jedi...

2009-05-23T22:08:00.000-07:00

Star Wars Celebration was a few months away and our friend Lance decided that if we were going to a Star Wars Celebration, we were going to go in style and dress like Jedi. We were to be Jedi! I was a bit skeptical but was willing to give it a try. I really hadn't done the costume thing before but thought it would be fun. Not to mention, Lance was willing to be generous enough to buy many of the key components. He had found a few places on the internet. Finding a place called Park Sabers, Lance purchased my wife and I professional brushed aluminum lighsaber hilts. He had purchased a version that looked a lot like Luke's from the Return of the Jedi. I went for a style more Darth Vader-ish as I thought I was a darker Jedi. My wife's lightsaber was a unique style and was quite nice.

Along with the lightsabers, he had found a place that sold costume pieces. I can't remember what the place was called but I think it had "star" in the name. The one thing that a Jedi needs is a robe or cloak. We proceeded to buy two of their master Jedi robes. I had felt a little guilty for him buying everything so I pitched in on the cloaks. Although we didn't think of this at the time, the robes were no different than a standard monk style robe. The sleeves were too narrow. The hoods were way too small. And they didn't have the big baggy style that Obi-wan was seen to have in TPM. Yet, at the time, we thought they were the coolest things we ever wore. I remember the day they arrived. We had gone out on my apartment's balcony and put them on and practiced our Jedi walk and ominous hooded look. We even got a few looks from the neighbors.

Finding affordable boots was an issue yet the costume site had boot spats that made us appear to be wearing cool Jedi boots yet were much cheaper and velcro'd in the back. I was lucky that I had a pair of dress shoes that had seen better days and matched the color of the boot spats perfectly. I look back on that boot spat idea and think we must have looked so stupid yet I still have those boot spats in a box in the garage.

With boots (sorta), lightsaber (along with a replica belt in the style of old Obi-wan and Han Solo) and a Jedi cloak, there was only one thing missing. I was missing the inner robes. I figured I could use an old pair of khakis for my pants but the shirt needed to look like a Jedi's inner robes. The only solution was I needed to make one. I had never made a costume in my life but that day I went to the fabric store and bought some cool fabric. I didn't know how to sew thus I bought a pattern for a karate uniform. It looked a lot like a Jedi inner robe. With a few modifications, we made it work. We didn't even have a sewing machine so we asked my wife's aunt if we could borrow hers. Having never used a sewing machine before, I had to learn fast. My wife and her aunt were quite surprised that I actually wanted to sew my own costume. It took us a few weeks but we finished them and we were quite proud of ourselves as well.

Flash forward a couple more weeks and its Sunday, the last day of Celebration. We had spotted a cute young girl wearing the Slave Leia outfit. We wanted a picture with her but we were afraid to ask because we didn't want to look like a couple of pervy guys. In the end, we didn't need to ask at all. That afternoon, she actually approached us and wanted a picture with us and our Jedi costumes. She told us that we had done a very nice job and she had seen us the day before but hadn't had the opportunity to stop and ask. We got our photos with her and she got her's with a couple of cool Jedis. I still have that picture to this day.

Yet, I will admit, our costumes sucked back then. As I look at that photo with the slave Leia, I see every flaw. They weren't very movie accurate and the robes were all wrong, along with the sashes, etc. It was this irritation with those costumes that I would spend 2 years researching and making better Jedi costumes that would debut at Star Wars Celebration II. To this day, I stand by those CII costumes to be very accurately done. I still break it out and wear it from time to time. It did get a minor modification for Celebration III yet it has been very much unaltered since the day we sewed them in 2001. Thus we became Jedi in 1999 and it was the first time I costumed...

Nothing but Star Wars

2009-05-22T22:01:00.000-07:00

So, this whole week I've thought nothing but Star Wars. I watched The Phantom Menace 5 times on May 19th. I have watched it a few more times since. Ok, like every night. I wasn't watching it intently but it was on in the back ground while I wrote these blogs and worked on other things. I can say that it was a pretty good week. It was fun going back in time and remembering the details of ten years ago.

I have also pulled out my memory box, per se, and found all my Star Wars Celebration souvenirs. I found the program, the badges, the freebies and the photos. It has inspired me to complete a memory-style book so I can appreciate these things easier. I have a big leather binder with all my photos from Celebration III and IV yet Celebration and Celebration II have been overlooked for too long. And right now most of the souviners are just sitting in a box and not being enjoyed.

I thought I would share a few things I still have in the box. And one in particular. Inside the box, I have two Darth Maul convention badges, 2 copies of the Program Listing and Program Guide, a couple Pepsi bags with draw strings and one pack of Farley's Episode I Mega-Duals Galactic Berry Fruit Snacks. These things really bring back some great memories.

So during the Summer of 1999, my friends and I must have bought a few dozen boxes of these Farley's Mega-Duals Galactic Berry Episode I Fruit Snacks. We liked to call them Jedi Snacks . They come fat free with a high source of Vitamins C, E and Beta Carotene. The bag has a picture of little Anakin with his pod racer helmet and the legendary red laser blast logo with Star Wars Episode I. The bag is still sealed but I can feel that these little fruit snacks are now as hard as little rocks. But I can still literally taste these things like it was yesterday. These Jedi Snacks were in our Jedi belt pouches on opening day. I can remember eating a couple packs during each viewing of TPM. I took them on vacation. I took them to the Ren Fair. I took them to work. I loved these things. They really aren't any different than the fruit snacks that you find today in the grocery isle but these were the first Star Wars ones. I remember there being two different kinds. There was the standard flavors and then the Mega-Dual. I must not have saved a bag of the standard flavors. I remember they were in the shapes of Obi-wan, Jar Jar, Anakin and Darth Maul. If memory serves, the Regular Flavors box was blue with a Battle Droid on it. The boxes were everywhere, Walmart, Safeway and King Soopers. Like I said, I must have bought a few dozen that summer. Why I saved one bag? I don't remember but I'm glad I did.

I remember when Episode II came out, I so craved some Jedi Snacks but couldn't find any. I don't think they ever made them to be honest. There was the rumor that many things that were made and promoted during TPM wasn't done for AOTC (Attack of the Clones) because so many companies had lost money on the over hype and promotional items of Episode I. The good news would be that when Episode III was released, Kellogg's had their version of Jedi Snacks. I immediately felt like a kid again and went out and bough box after box. Again, I took them to Celebration III and to the opening day screenings. They were always in my Jedi belt pouches. I don't think I saved any of those snacks save one lone bite size snack. It was a green Yoda head. It's as hard as a rock today too. I do remember saving one bag though and when Episode III was 1 year old, I remember breaking it open and eating them in remembrance of that anniversary. I also remember turning and saying to my wife, "when gone these are, the last of the Jedi Snacks they would be..."

Good memories...

The Jab

2009-05-21T20:14:00.000-07:00

So, I was listening to a Phantom Menace remembrance podcast today and the show had numerous voice-mails and MP3s of fans calling/sending in their Phantom Menace memories. After listening to them, I started thinking. While everyone stated how much they remember standing in lines for tickets or the actual first screening, and how they look back on the movie with fondness and the time with sentiments, they almost always follow or precede their statements with a jab at the movie. And, this got me wondering if anyone truly feels the movie is a great Star Wars movie. But because of the popularity of prequel hate, they feel (by way of obligation or in the spirit of looking cool) they have to slam the movie at the same time. Even the podcast's host (who sounds to be a huge fan of Star Wars) went in loving the movie. (sidebar: I found it coincidental that, like myself, he saw the movie literally five times in the first day.) Yet,by the end he stated that he slowly lost his appreciation for it and he found himself bored and disenchanted with the movie as a whole. So much to the point, that he didn't watch it for a couple years afterward. I unlike the host do not nor did not share the same opinion. After five viewings, I was still very much impressed and loved the movie.

I will admit there are parts of the film I dislike. There is a character I prefer not be so animated or comical. Yet, this is Star Wars! We should appreciate it. Sorta like a wife. You take Star Wars in the best of times and in the worst of times, in sickness and in health, etc etc. Again, as Star Wars fans, in an effort of being taken seriously, is it a must to throw down some prequel hate?

Which brings me to another point as well. This movie was so hyped by the 16 years of waiting and anticipation, that regardless of the final product, I think the fan community would have still torn the movie down. Everyone had their own prequel built in their mind. Everyone had their own events mapped out and once we got the official version, it didn't match our own imagination thus it clearly was out of place. One of the most common criticisms of the movie is that it didn't feel like a Star Wars movie. I disagree with this statement. I think it feels very much like a Star Wars movie but a Star Wars movie created by a storyteller who now had a much much bigger pallet of colors to work from. If GL had made Episode I in 1986 or 1989 as some of the original rumors were back then, perhaps it would have felt more like the OT. The guilty party is that of modern film technology. There was this thing called CGI that didn't exist in 1983. The scenes were being shot digitally instead of on 35mm film stock. Scenes were being edited in a computer vs. an editing table. So in a "certain point of view" the movie felt different on a technical level but the magic of Star Wars was still present. There's a ton of woulda-coulda've suggestions when it comes to the prequels. My key "what should have been done" is GL should have made the movies as if he was in 1986. Challenged himself to film the movie like he would have in the 1980s with all those technological challenges. Then only use the CGI and digital technology only after to enhance the movie at the editing stage. But EPI was pre-visualized way too early as a big test vehicle of ILM's might.

So with all this pondering, I'm thinking Star Wars fans are simply keeping their true feelings for The Phantom Menace locked deep inside? I'm not afraid to admit when I like something. And I like Episode I! I still watch it several times a year. I still feel the magic when I sit down to watch it. It's a small window into the past--at time machine of sorts--that allows me to literally relive one of the happiest times of my life--the anticipation that was Episode I!

Midnight Madness = Toys!

2009-05-20T21:32:00.001-07:00

In continuing my star wars memories, I will briefly give another short Star Wars memoir. This one is about grown men and them racing out to buy toys—action figures!

May 2, 1999. Star Wars Celebration had ended not with a whimper or a bang but sadly with a simple passing moment of time. We were exhausted and dirty. I recall that I had driven home and dropped the wife off. We took quick showers and grabbed bites to eat. I had called my friend Lance and a confirmed the time he’d swing by to pick me up for tonight’s big event. He’d be by around 10:30 PM. With it being only 7ish at the time, I figured I would grab a quick catnap. In a nervous worry I would totally fall asleep and not awake for days, I had set the alarm for 10:15. I dozed with my Star Wars T-shirt, Jeans and ball cap on. As the catnap turned into a full sleep, it was a good thing I had set the alarm. It beeped in that annoying style that made the sound perfect for an alarm clock. I raced out of our apartment and down the stairs to wait for my friend.
He sped through the parking lot in his Jetta a few minutes late but nothing to worry about. We were off. 10:45 PM we decide to hit the Toys R Us on Mississippi and I-225 first. Arriving with five minutes to the TRU, we quickly changed plans. The Toys R Us had a line that went from the front door, around the corner, around the building and down the perimeter of the parking lot. I had never seen so many people lined up at a toy store in the middle of the night before. We ran down some alternate locations. For some reason we decided to cross the street to the Media Play (the store would close in 2007 and the building is now vacant). The good news was there was no line. The doors were open and you could walk right inside. There were about 50 people mingling through the store. I remember that we had total access to all the merchandise and could peruse the books and trinkets. While at the time we thought this very cool, it never dawned on us that when it got closer to midnight to move our purchases to the registers. See, we could look at the stuff and buy the stuff but we had to wait until 12:01 AM so that the store technically hadn’t broke street date on the merchandise. The street date being 5/3/99. In a moment of distraction, we had missed an opportunity to grab our novelizations, CD score and posters and step third or fourth in an already crowed check out lane. As we raced to the registers at 11:45 PM, we had to wait until that moment of 12:01. I remember the girl at the counter kept checking the registers time and when it clicked to 12:01 she quickly used the little laser gun on merchandise as fast as she could.
The unfortunate part was we wouldn’t leave the Media Play until nearly 12:25 AM. That was literally an eternity in Star Wars collecting time. Every second counted in finding Star Wars merchandise and acquiring the most important Star Wars toys. Although Media Play was a great place to find the merchandise and media of The Phantom Menace, they had not action figures. Toys R Us across the street was a failed attempt. I quickly suggested the 24-hour Super Kmart (the store eventually closed in 2003 and is now a Home Depot). It was the store I still worked at part time in the evenings and the store I had worked all though college. The store was 20 minutes away but we ran to the car and raced out of the parking lot as if we were a Pod Racer.
As we drove by the TRU, the line outside had shrunk but there were still people outside. Meaning: there were still some poor fans not even near the figure pegs. How anxious that must felt like.
Twenty minutes later, we had parked in the parking lot of the Super Kmart 4918 in Greenwood Village Colorado. Lance and I nearly sprinted to the toy isles. Yet it was eerily quiet. There was no one around. I quickly picked up a store phone and paged a co-worker who was both a good friend and Star Wars fan. I remember the conversation not even getting past a “hey”. It was simply, “the figures are up here at the east doors, hurry!” We raced to the east doors, the grocery side of the store. There sitting on pallets were dozens and dozens of action figure cases. The sides read: Star Wars Episode I Figure Assortment I Street Date 5/3/99. The stock crew hadn’t even bothered to hang the figures on pegs or shelves. They had just allowed the collectors, the fans, the enthusiasts to pick through the cases. I feared we were too late. There were dozens of empty cases. I quickly found my friend Mark, the co-worker I had paged only moments ago. He saw our disappointed faces. Yet he had foreseen our tardiness in the Force. He hand gestured a “follow me”. We followed. He led us into the back of the store where another pallet sat full of fresh unopened cases of TPM action figures. I quickly grabbed a few cases and snapped the tape with my keys. The feeling was more electric than I had ever experienced.
I had been collecting the action figures for nearly 5 years and I had never felt the rush I felt that night. We grabbed our cases and he walked us back up to the front of the store. He pulled the pallet of new cases behind us. We spent another half hour looking through and confirming we had what we needed and I had my two of each. At the time there weren’t many people looking through the boxes, but I do remember everyone was willing to help a fellow fan find that one figure they needed to complete their collection. I specifically recall pulling at least one Darth Maul out and helping a fellow fan, a fan that had bought his 7-year-old boy out to participate in that memorable night.
So with my two of each, one to open and one to leave sealed—yes, that was the my collector mentality back then—I slowly walked to the registers. I look back on that night with a bizarre fondness, especially since as I don’t buy any of the action figures today. I still clearly remember walking to the check out lanes of that Super Kmart at 1:30 AM feeling like I had just won a lottery, watching dozens of action figures being scanned and carefully placed back into their cases. I even remember swiping my credit card to a tune of $341.72. In addition, that amount didn’t even count toward the nearly $200 I had spent on books and music at the Media Play only an hour earlier. That night was the first Midnight Madness I would experience. And it wouldn’t be the last Midnight Madness either. However, I will say, those nights were some of the most fun I would ever have as a Star Wars fan.

The Phantom Memory of May 19th 1999.

2009-05-19T23:43:00.000-07:00

A short memoir about the day Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace was released.

As I began to write this memoir, it nears the exact time, to the minute, that ten years ago, my wife and I (along with a small group of friends and family) sat in a dimly lit movie theater awaiting our first screening of The Phantom Menace. The time was 11:45 PM May 18, 1999.
Flash forward, at exactly 11:43 PM May 18, 2009, I have reclined on my sofa, laptop computer on my…well…lap and I have placed the DVD of The Phantom Menace into the Playstation 3—up-scaled it to 1080p and projected it through my 52 inch Sony Bravia LCD TV—all in attempts to recreate that day in that darkened theater not so long ago. The volume on the home theater is turned up to a thunderous roar. On the other hand, the best it will allow in light of the DVD’s compressed audio in this age of Blu-ray and superior sound technology and not to wake the wife and daughter.
Sitting in that theater, ten years prior, I may have not been thinking as long and hard on the past ten years as I am tonight. However, I know I would have been sitting there wondering if I would ever experience something like that again. Moreover, I for a fact do remember that night!
I remember seeing The Phantom Menace five times in a single day.
I remember, from all corners of the theater, fans chanted out a count down that would rival any on a given New Year’s Eve. I remember we settled back in our seats, gripped our sodas, popcorn bags, overpriced M&Ms and our stainless aluminum lightsaber hilts and held our breaths as we read the Episode I’s now infamous crawl.
Before I can truly recount that memorable day here, I must first back up even further in time. Let’s just say that night would be the culmination of not only months and months of expectation, but would be the pinnacle of anticipation for any given movie:

From the moment in 1994 when George Lucas announced he was writing and working on the first Star Wars movie in over 10 years:
—to the moment in the summer of 1997 when we heard principle photography had begun;
—to racing to the mailbox anxiously looking for and reading the next issue of Star Wars Insider (formally known as the Lucasfilm Insider);
—to the moment I logged onto StarWars.com for the first time to learn the name of the movie we had only known as Episode I for the last year and a half;
—to watching the first official teaser trailer attached to a ridiculous movie called Water Boy in 1998;
—to having my extremely slow Pentium II computer downloading that very same trailer over a 56K modem;
—to setting the VCR (DVRs had yet to be invented to my knowledge) to record Entertainment Tonight to get my first official copy of the trailer that I could watch over and over again on my 27 inch RCA television and nearly wearing out the video tape;
—to researching and sitting at a sewing machine in efforts of creating my very own Jedi costume;
—to sneaking out of work on an extra long lunch hour so I could stand in line with friends to purchase tickets to a movie that wouldn’t be released for another 32 days;
—to the attendance of Star Wars Celebration at the Wings Over the Rockies Air and Space Museum in Denver Colorado;
—to watching the Duel of the Fates music video in a cool and damp tent;
—to watching TV spots and promos with Samuel L. Jackson on Sci-Fi Channel;
—to the point of sacrificing sleep and rushing out at midnight to buy the merchandise, action figures, sticker books, pez dispensers and “making of” books;
—to careful review and reading of the thousands of magazine articles;
—to the hunger for Star Wars news yet with a strong desire to remain spoiler free;
—to buying four copies of a novelization so I could get all the book cover variants;
—to buying a soundtrack yet not even breaking the shrink-wrap;
—to requesting a day off and trying to explain to my boss that it was all in preparation to see a movie we had been waiting for nearly 20 years.

I remember the first Star Wars Celebration. It’s hard not to when I think back to May 19th. (those details will be explored later) However, it was at that very event, where we, the fans in attendance of Celebration, had all hoped we would catch our first true glimpse of The Phantom Menace. I even recall some of us, in our most wild and incredible dreams, fantasizing GL would allow us to see a rough cut of the entire movie. Nevertheless, those were just fanboy dreams.
Like a whisper in the back of my mind, I sometimes worry that I will forget important details of that day, May 19, 1999, a Phantom Memory cursed to be forgotten. Tuesday May 18, 1999 started like any other. I crawled out of bed and shuffled off to work. As hours ticked away, I became more anxious. Excited more than a 10-year-old boy with a new BMX bike. I distinctly remember spending the day listening to my CD box set of Star Wars (ipods were still a few years away). Co-workers had paraded by my desk to inquiry if I had seen the latest news program or morning show that had featured something on this new Star Wars movie. And like teasing playground bullies, they had to poke fun at me standing in line with my lightsaber.
The hours between leaving work and arriving at the theater are missing in my memory hard drive. I do recall getting dressed in my Jedi robes and arriving to the Aurora Century 16 Theater around 9:30 PM that night. The line wasn’t too long. Although my goal was to get there by no later than 9 PM. Yet, tell that to a wife who was nearly eight months pregnant. Memory serves that there were only about 20 people in line when we arrived. I remember asking the person at the front of the line when they made their stake for the coveted spot. They had mentioned an original arrival time of around 6 PM yet found themselves first so they went and grabbed some fast food and returned around 7:30 PM, still to find themselves first in line. I remember them being much more prepared for their long wait in line than us. They had the laid-back lawn chairs, an ice cooler full of refreshments, magazines and board games to past the time. This was nothing compared to the line of Episode II and III where I recall fans pitching tents not only with comfy chairs and sleeping bags but with electricity to run TVs, DVDs and AC. With my tickets in my pocket and fellow friends joining us in line, we began our wait – a two and half hour wait to what we thought at the time was going to be the best Star Wars movie ever! I can’t recall the specifics of all the conversations we had in line from that night but I do know it very rarely deviated from the subject of Star Wars.
I cannot explain the feeling a grown man gets as he awaits the next big Star Wars movie. It clearly is nearly indescribable. The feeling can only be summed up as a mix of anxiety, fear, sorrow and pure enthusiasm. It’s like the night before Christmas morning. You can’t wait to open your presents yet you don’t want it to happen either as the realization hits you just before you fall into a slumber that the electricity of that anticipation will soon be over. The wait for Star Wars: The Phantom Menace had taken months, years and it was slowly coming to an end.
Although it was ten years ago, I do remember standing in that line. Adjusting my Jedi belt and lightsaber, pulling my Jedi robe closer to fight off a cool evening breeze, my wife complaining of tired feet, the flicker of the theater lights, the chatter of dozens of Star Wars conversations, the moment they opened the doors and we rushed in to a ticket taker ripping tickets and the smell of buttered popcorn.
The time was 11:05 PM May 18, 1999. We had rushed into the theater to pick our seats. Surprisingly enough, we claimed very nice ones. Not exactly center center but close enough. I bought our concessions and took pictures of our friends and family. I may have even proclaimed we would be telling this story to our grandkids someday. The theater had quickly filled to capacity. I remember the theater manager assuring fans that two more theaters were being opened for fans to occupy. The excitement wouldn’t end there. Fans chanted Star Wars. Several challenges for lightsaber combat incurred between costumed Jedi and Sith. Three beach balls bounced around the theater as if at a pool party. Only when the 20th Century Fox logo debuted, did the balls stop floating around the theater. I recall there being John Williams music playing on someone’s boom box. Although I don’t understand why, there were several people reading the novelization. I guess some didn’t care about being spoiled. Yet to me it was like knowing the answer to a question you had yet to think of and ask.
I remember the fans bonded that night like old school friends at a class reunion. You couldn’t recall the person exactly nor knew their name yet you inherently knew them, understood them and respected them.
I honestly remember as the lights went down sometime around 11:55 PM, with only about six minutes remaining to 12:01 AM May 19, 1999. I remember those last few minutes as I had a moment that I can only describe as a life changing moment. Similar to an epiphany, it’s that moment where you within a few minutes or seconds you relive your life up until that event. Not so much like a "life flashing before your eyes" as the experience is a good one vs. a bad one. I sat there in that darkening theater and realized how lucky I was to be sitting there. I was going to experience something I couldn't have ever done before. I was going to see the premier of a Star Wars movie. Who'd would have thunk that I would be writing about it in ten years. I hope to be writing about it in 20 or 30 more years. It was in those few minutes that tears welled in my eyes. I wished for the chance to call my grandmother and tell her about the moment. She has listened to hours of phone conversations of me retelling events that were in that month's Insider magazine. This the woman that bought me my first Return of the Jedi figure. But, I couldn’t as I had lost her to cancer in January of that year, 1999. I felt compassion for Steven Curnow, who wouldn’t be able to watch TPM because his life was cut too short by the events of the Columbine shooting. I suddenly felt fear and joy knowing that in a short couple of months, my pregnant wife would give birth to my daughter. I would be a father for the first time. The realization that not only a era of fandom was ending that a new one was beginning—yet this time I was experiencing it as a grown up.
I remember watching as the 20th Century fox logo faded away into those unforgettable blue letters of “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” I remember the applause and cheers as the Star Wars logo appeared and quickly pulled back to reveal the crawl.
I remember the awe and magic I felt at 2:30 AM as we slowly walked out of the theater. I remember wanting to stay there all night and recount and discus what we had just seen. But, it was the cold realization that we had another screening beginning in less than six hours encouraged us to go home and catch a few winks of sleep. Lucky for my wife and I that we only lived a ½ mile away.
I remember the plan that morning was to drive back to the theater at 7 AM and get in line for the 8:30 screening. I look back on that now and think I was a bit OCD on the whole idea. Apparently, my mind set was the crowd at the 8:30 AM show would be no different from the 12:01 AM show. My wife still reminds me of that error in my judgment to this day.
I remember we arrived at the theater parking lot around 7:15 AM give or take, we found ourselves the only ones there. I remember worrying that maybe my tickets were incorrect and the next showing was not at 8:30. Thus, we sat in the car and waited. We also had time to shake off the effects of too little sleep. It was sometime around 8 AM when we saw a lone theater employee unlock the doors and gave us our signal it was okay to proceeded in. Tickets were purchased weeks earlier so it was just the theater door and us.
I remember buying a couple sodas and that’s it at the concession stand and walking into an empty theater. I remember that the second viewing was just as exciting as the first. Once the credits ended, we had about 20 minutes to move from one theater to another for our third viewing.
It was between our third and forth screening that we had about 55 minutes for a quick lunch which I remember was at Burger King up the street (duh Star Wars promotions). The fourth viewing began promptly at 2:15 PM. And, I remember the day would conclude with returning to the theater at 7 PM that night for one last viewing minus my tired and very pregnant wife.
I had spent May 19, 1999 in a theater, had watched The Phantom Menace so many times I could already quote dialog. And the funny thing was, I still wanted to see it one more time. I remember seeing my wife’s face grimace as I tried to drag her to another showing. Nevertheless, she was always the loving wife and would smile and endure another screening.
Before the summer of 1999 would end, I remember seeing The Phantom Menace another four times. Whether it was on the huge screen of the United Artists Continental Theater or a run down $1 theater with sticky floors and torn seats, I remember enjoying it each and every time. It was somewhere in there I remember hauling a baby carrier into a darkened theater and looking down at my daughter and saying, “you’re gonna love this movie!”
Thus, this brings me back to writing this memoir.
So, last month, I got this idea. The idea was I would go all out to relive May 19th all over again. It would be in my living room and the movie would be on DVD but it would be great in not only spirit but also tribute. I purposely drank caffeine after 9 PM so I could stay up till midnight on May 18th. I pushed play on the DVD at precisely 12:01 AM. I managed to watch the entire movie before heading off to bed at 2:40 AM. I pulled my aching body out of bed at 7 AM and watched it again at 8:30—this time with a doughnut in my hand.
It’s May 19, 2009. I have watched Star Wars – The Phantom Menace five times. Once with the commentary track on. I even watched the “making of” documentaries and deleted scenes. I will admit the day felt different than it did ten years ago. Perhaps because I spent today alone where as ten years ago I was in the company of friends and family. The displays of emotion were missing—there was no laughter, groans of worry or applause at the final credits. Although I did try to recreate them all.
I wonder where the last ten years went. I will tell you that I sincerely miss them. Although I can’t go back, I know I can at least look back on those ten years and say I remember them as good years. As I write these last few sentences, I watch the sparkle in my daughter’s eye as she is enthralled by the lightsaber duel of Qui-gon, Obi-wan and Darth Maul. She is almost 10 years old, watching TPM with her daddy literally for the first time beginning to end. (I brought her up the ol’ fashion way—Star Wars was New Hope, Empire and Jedi first, then the prequels). I look back and wouldn’t trade those years for anything. Ten years have certainly passed and my body certainly feels a bit different but my mind hasn’t aged a day since. Let’s hope I can say the same about the next ten years…or at least entertain the idea of reliving May 16th 2002 in three years!