Month: November 2018

The Falcons

For a small town we have a splendid team, the Falcons. I myself am not much of a sports fan but my wife understands the game and has been known to assure players that “they can do it” from her couch.

But that is alright. We are solid fans, nevertheless. The Falcons are “our” team. When our team is playing we are tuned in. When the team is doing well we are exstatic, especially when Crawfit does his his famous two three pointers in a row. Pendergrast and Voykovitch on the attack, handing the ball to each other in such quick succession that just watching makes you dizzy.  And then the groan when the ball hits the rim and the other team gets the rebound. Ah, the joys and the agonies of living with your team. Right or wrong, it is your team. Not just Crawfit and Pendergrast and Voykovitch but Jared Browne as well, and Ishmael  N’Bakuba, this other great talent the commentators talk about a lot. Those men, and a few others not named here are our team, “a number of persons associated in some joint action”, as the dictionary defines the term. Those men as a group were the ones we rooted for.

But the season ended and Browne retired. He was the oldest. Crawfit was traded. Voykovitch  went to Miami. Pendergrast ended up in Oklahoma. They were obviously no longer “associated in some joint action .” I forgot what happened to N’Bakuba. Does not matter, though. One man can hardly be called a team. In other words, our team had ceased to exist.

We had never considered that “our team” and “Falcons” were not identical, not one and the same thing. But actually the Falcons are a separate, a different “team,” an abstract corporate entity, a club called Falcons. The Club is a business entity, a corporation. It never shoots anything, let alone baskets. It may shoot itself in the foot by trading the wrong player. I cannot get myself to root for an abstraction. Some will now accuse me of lacking this imponderable thing, the team spirit. But then I never rooted for the abstract entity called Falcons. I rooted for the team of players I admired. And that team is gone, dissolved. And with it goes my team spirit.

It seems, though, that I was taking trivial things too seriously. Because the Falcons club is still alive. Like a damaged lizard that grows a new tail the Club is growing a new team. They are working on it. To give up on them now would be untimely. And I was just  unteamely uprooted.

Newspapers

Newspapers report on important matters, of course, as one cannot help but infer from this stern warning I read in the Sunday paper: “Different points of few are critical in our democracy.” Ahem. But hard as the editors may try to remain serious, they cannot avoid being funny at times. Usually this happens when double meanings creep into a text. The other day I read a traveler’s evaluation of a trip in our local newspaper: “We had a lovely time. Stayed at Casa las Tortugas, ate many meals at its restaurant and also at Milpa; my husband had the octopus.” Sorry to hear about that. Thank God it was not the Flu. I also learned that cannibalism is apparently in vogue again. Netflix says nearly 60% of its subscribers consume kids and family content every month. Shades of A Modest Proposal, I thought. And I am not even Irish.

Some of these bloopers are not so much humorous as they are challenging. A notice announcing an upcoming local election in Laguna Beach, California, reads like a test question for Math 101: “Each of seven applicants will seek one of four spots on the Arts Commission. With the Housing and Human Services Committee increasing its membership to nine members, six candidates are expected to fill six eligible spots. Each of four applicants will seek one of two spots on the Planning Commission. Eight applicants will vie for one of five spots on the Emergency/Disaster Preparedness Committee. Three candidates will vie for three spots on the Personnel Board.” Here is the question: If each winner gets 8 oz of champagne, how many bottles of bubbly must the commissioner order? Good luck!

Newport Beach, my home town, is home to many boats and boat-related enterprises. People on boats still get seasick from time to time. To prevent that from happening some engineering company recently demonstrated a new type of device that would eliminate sea sickness. An ad in the paper warned that the device was “the size of a chest freezer.” I had to read this twice to understand that this device was a gyroscope about the size of a freezer chest. Good thing. I was a little worried about my already damaged lungs and that on my planned excursion to Catalina Island I might have to sit in the cooler.

In nearby Temecula, I found out, “Food aficionados can try unlimited samples from local wineries.” I thought I would wait till they bring out the limited stuff!

Editors often have to carefully tiptoe around delicate matters. A review of the new Honda CR-V praises the improvements to the front seats. They are more adjustable and they come now with heating and ventilating options. I could not think of a more tactful way of saying this. Puts the Beano ads to shame.

A jailbreak in California was blamed on the plumbing system “which the inmates used to gain access to the roof.” Don’t try this at home, I would say. Those guys were super thin! In the report on a burglary the get-away car was “believed to be a black Mercedes R-class SUV with paper plates.” Thank God they left us the napkins.

And thanks be to the Old Man for having added laughter to his creation.

Plastics

The car we drive looks as if it were made of nothing but steel and glass. But that is not true. A significant part of an automobile is plastic. What we wear may look like wool or cotton or silk. But it is not. My fine Calvin Klein raincoat is made of polyester, 100 % as the label explains. Polyester fiber is indestructible. That used to be a virtue. We now understand that indestructible means that the material is not biodegradable, hence may be a menace to the environment. My coat will not be forgotten. It will be around for a long, long time. There is something ominous about that thought.

In my youth we always bought a bouquet of flowers along with the food for the dinner table. Decorating one’s home with fake flowers, while cheaper in the long run, was a decided no-no, considered the epitome of bad taste. It just was not done. Not so any more. Artificial flowers are now so perfectly crafted that at first glance you cannot tell fake from real unless you touch. In bank lobbies, hospital corridors, restaurants, and other public places fake greens and flowers are normal decor these days. One often sees signs posted that warn housekeeping staff not to water “the plants.” Artificial flowers, being made of polyester, are of course also indestructible. They are a good investment. They keep a long time.

Somehow this makes me think of cemeteries. Never was there a sadder sight than a new grave covered with wilted and rotten flowers. I will leave instructions that I want a huge arrangement of polyester flowers on my grave. They will last 100 years, they say. Cemetery strollers-by will stop and look who is buried in that indestructible grave. My way to intimate immortality.

Some plastics, Teflon for example, are particularly useful in my daily life. I no longer burn as much of what I cook as I did before I got my Teflon pots and pans. I have now advanced to the next level of culinary expertise. I found out that I can melt plastic spoons and other utensils into humorous shapes simply by leaning them against hot burner elements.

Plastics are so common in our lives that even children understand their many uses. On a road trip with friends the three women in the front seat were discussing the merits of different fabrics for women’s intimate wear. Eight year old Mike in the back seat was following the conversation with great interest. One of the women said that she liked silk best. No, said the second, it has to be cotton. Before his mother had a chance to declare her preference little Mike felt obliged to join the debate: “We got plastic!” he informed the party.