The Future is Now

My cousin Marian, in her latest blog post, made a list of some things about her life that would've surprised her to know 15 years ago. She posed the question:
What would have been the most surprising thing a psychic could have told you fifteen years ago, about your life today?

My answer is too long for her comment section, so I'll post it here. Fifteen years ago I was in my sophomore year of college. Some things I would've been surprised to hear:

-That I wouldn't marry my then boyfriend.

-That I wouldn't be married or have kids, and that I'd be okay with it.

-That I would've lived in Oakland, CA for four years.

-That the Twin Towers wouldn't exist.

-That I'd still wear the Tufts tank top that Jim gave me when I was in 7th grade.

-That the US would be in the 5th year of war with Iraq, and that it many ways it wouldn't really affect my everyday life.

-That Arnold Schwarzenegger would be Governor of California.

-That I would try online dating. (It would've been no surprise to hear that if I did try it, it wouldn't be my thing).

-That I'd run three marathons.

-That my mom would still be playing tennis multiple times a week.

-That I would take a trip to Tanzania by myself.

-That that funny girl that lived down the hall from me would be one of my best friends.

-That I would learn to play guitar, write some songs and actually play them for other people.

-That I would love working with elderly people.

-That I could see myself settling in the midwest.

-That some of my closest friends were people I already knew, including my brothers, and that I'd gather up so many more great friends through the years.

-That I'd write on a blog. What's a blog?

All in all, after many moves and heartbreaks and weird jobs and the usual life stuff, I think I'd pleasantly surprised that on the outside my life doesn't look like anything all that amazing, but on the inside I'm pretty happy with where and who I am.

A Scary Ride

About a week ago, some friends and I were walking down Damen Avenue and stopped at a house that had an amazing Halloween set-up in their yard. The actual house was old and slightly creepy looking to begin with. The front yard was riddled with wild plant life, and well-placed decorations. By decorations I mean a small table with a lamp nestled in the brush, with a grim reaper type dude sitting beside it and lots of well-placed realistic looking bats, gravestones and skeletons. For a moment, I truly enjoyed the Halloween season. When I was little, my neighbor Roman would set up the most elaborate Haunted House in his basement. That, along with trick-or-treating at the house at the top of the hill that gave out full packs of Bubbalicious gum, was the highlight of the season. As I stared at the eery house on Damen Ave, I thought that maybe I do like Halloween.

Until last night's train ride home reminded me why I hate it.

Six women, who I later figured out were co-workers, discussed their Halloween plans. "I'm gonna be Captain Morgan and Jeff is gonna be a breathalizer. The costume is totally obscene! There's a sign by his crotch that says "suck it!"

Shrieks of laughter from her posse.

"NO! That is TOO funny!"

"I know!!!"

Seriously? I wouldn't even say it was funny, let alone TOO funny.

They took a break from discussing Halloween to talk about the best place to get a makeover.

"I like the one at Barney's. It's not that much more expensive and they do a much better job. Ya know for like one if you're just getting it before going out." Wha? A makeover before going out? They're not talking about their wedding day?

I took a moment to judgmentally critique each woman's make-up application, and felt slightly condescendingly sad for them that they were convincing themselves that they needed it. They were cute gals. I think redhead's foundation was distracting from her lovely eyes.

Back to Halloween outfits. "My friends and I are all going as different drinks!"

"Oh my god. TOO funny!"

Geez, here we go again. Have you people not heard the one about the child molester and the little boy going into the woods?
(Little boy says: "I'm scared. These woods are so creepy." Child molester says: "You're scared!? I'm the one who's gonna have to walk out of here by myself." Now that is...ok...not too funny...but sorta funny at least).

"I'm gonna be Bloody Mary. I'll have Mary written on my shirt with some blood, and a hat with a carrot and celery on it."

I wanted to interject, "Let me guess- you're gonna be a slutty Bloody Mary. Or a Bloody Mary cat that wears fishnets." But I remained quiet and thought, I could go as Bloody Mary and not have to write Mary on my shirt. That's mildly interesting. Then I remembered that I loathe wearing Halloween costumes.

Many years ago my friend Pam and I went to Ireland, and would up sharing a room at a hostel with a hilariously bizarre German dude and his hilariously bizarre Belgian pal. They were funny guys but the best part of it was that often their jokes didn't translate into English. Pam and I were laughing hysterically because the jokes made absolutely no sense, and our pals thought we were laughing cause they were just that freaking funny. I was laying on the bottom bunk and the Belgian was on the bunk above me. The lights were out and we were all ready to sleep. The Belgian said, "I'll try not to move around too much because I don't want to come crashing down on you." It was silent for a second, and the German dude said, "Dat iz vut veed call a Bloody Mary." Now THAT is funny.

City on Fire!

The year was 1987...I think. My parents, brother Tom and I went to see a production of Sweeney Todd directed by my brother Jim. In typical musical theater form, chaos was ensuing so the stage quickly filled with people singing, "CITY ON FIRE!" Tom and I found this both hilarious and useful and pledged that from that day forth we would react to family drama by singing, "CITY ON FIRE!" We have kept that pledge to this day. It's Easter dinner and Mom forgot to take the carrots out of the oven? CITY ON FIRE!!!! Can't find a parking spot at the grocery store? CITY ON FIRE!!!!

This is all to say that I saw the trailer for Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd and I can't freaking wait. It looks great. Love the music. (Listening to the soundrack now. I'm sure my neighbors are psyched). Love the story. Love Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter. Here's hoping this isn't an Evita situation. Thanks for nothing Madonna. Why the hell didn't they just have Patti Lupone star in the movie too? I think we can all agree that she proved herself in "Life Goes On."

I saw the Sweeney trailer before seeing Things We Lost in the Fire. Loved that too. Benecio did not disappoint. Sigh.

Gore, Americorps and More

Congrats to Al Gore on his Nobel Peace Prize. Al and I go way back. In the summer of 1993, I worked in the Summer of Service program in Philadelphia which was the pilot program to Clinton's national service initiative. The initiative resulted in the creation of The Corporation for National and Community Service and Americorps. Nice little initiative.

At the beginning of the summer, all of the participants from around the country gathered for an orienation at Treasure Island (which was then a Naval Base) in San Francisco. Gore gave a great, inspiring speech at the orientation and I wondered why he hid that personality when he was on TV. The ICARE-Philadephia (Immunizing Children At-Risk Early) program focused on immunizing low-income kids. The nursing students took care of the actual immunizations. The rest of us had to drum up the business by going door to door, organizing health fairs (in which I once dressed in a giant Ernie costume) and my personal favorite, driving through South Philadelphia with a microphone on the car, making announcements. It was just a wee bit "grassroots." At the end of the summer, two people from each location were chosen to go to Maryland to meet with President Clinton, and report back on what we had accomplished that summer. So, essentially, it's the age old "How I Spent My Summer" essay, delivered to the President. I was one of the lucky recipients of a trip to meet the Prez. Each program had a station with a board highlighting the program achievements. Clinton went from station to station and talked with each program's representatives.

(Edited to add this ridiculous picture that I just scanned). When Clinton walked up to our station, I was surprisingly calm. He's just a dude. A REALLY tall dude with a mole near his nose that I had never noticed on TV or in pictures. We introduced ourselves and gave him the scoop on ICARE Philadelphia, he asked some questions, congratulated us on our work, we shook hands, and that was that. If I only knew then what I know now, I would've probably gotten myself arrested. "Please....don't ever go....don't jiz on Monica's dress....please...you have no idea....you're a pretty good President but in comparison of what's to come you're friggin fantastic..." After he got info on each of the programs, there was a question and answer forum. I just found the transcripts from it here. Now that I think back on it, I think Al and Bill and their Summer of Service program played more than a minor role in my career path. So, thanks guys.

Last year, because of my former job at the Sierra Club, I got to see an advanced screening of An Inconvenient Truth. Al Gore was there to introduce the movie and do a Q&A afterwards. Kudos to Al Gore for creating a movie in which a bar graph made me cry. I must say, it was pretty amazing to see that film in a theater full of environmental activists and friggin AL GORE. I normally hate when people applaud at the end of a movie because who are we clapping for?? But this time- it made sense. The standing ovation lasted for at least five minutes and I was one of the last to sit my ass down.

I really enjoyed working at the Illinois Chapter of the Sierra Club. The people I met there were fantastic, but I don't think I'm cut out to work on environmental issues full-time. It's a tough job. Often, a very thankless one. I'm happy that Gore has gotten the recognition that he deserves, because his recognition brings light to the thousands of people pouring their time, energy and passion into creating positive changes in their states, cities and towns. So I say let's celebrate Gore's Nobel Peace Prize by doing something to help the environment. Switch out your old bulbs to compact flourescents. Wash your clothes in cold water. Walk instead of drive. Get a canvas bag for your groceries. Plug all your electronics into one power strip and unplug the strip when you're not using it.

Speaking of people who won the election but didn't actually become President, I wholeheartedly agree with Garrett Epps' column in Salon, Let's Abolish the Electoral College.

Oh, and Ann Coulter? GO AWAY ALREADY.

The Good Old Days

The other day I was informed that Marcia, an old gal I knew when I worked in Boston, just celebrated her 99th birthday. This made my day. Marcia is one of the sweetest people to walk the earth. The organization I work for has vacation sessions for elderly. Many of the vacations take place at a beautiful, giant farmhouse located a couple hours outside of Chicago. Most of the elderly that attend vacations there are from Chicago but when there are spots open, people from other chapters are invited to go. Some spots were open and Marcia and I signed up. She was a mere 92 at the time.

Because Marcia is blind, and was 92, I tried to get seats at the front of the plane. The flight attendant said there was no way she could get us a seat up front. Thankfully, Marcia is the most easygoing gal I've ever met. We walked to our seat in Row 29, and by walk, I mean that I scrambled along backwards down the aisle while holding Marcia's hands and coaching her through it. "Doing great, Marcia! This is some adventure, huh!?"

Marcia said in her always chipper tone, "Oh my, Mary! AND HOW! We sure are going far! This is something else!"

We finally got settled in our seats and I wowed Marcia by showing her the headphones and the controls to switch the station. She was happily listening to a jazz station, when the flight attendant stopped at our row and said to me, "Oh, she's so sweet! Is that your mom?"

I stared at her, not knowing just how to respond. Not only was Marcia 65 years older than me, she's African American. Of course anything is possible but nothing about looking at the two of us should've led people to believe "mother-daughter combo." I just said, "Nope. Marcia is my pal!" I smiled and then screamed in Marcia's ear, "ENJOYING THE MUSIC?"

"Oh, and how, Mary! We are having quite a time, aren't we, Mary!?" The flight attendant looked completely confused.

Our vacation was fantastic. We met all sorts of nice folks, including the amazing duo of Alvin and Edward who were pretty much real-life versions of Statler and Waldorf from the Muppets. Alvin had some digestion issues, so he was frequently demanding more "thickener" for his drinks. Edward, who was all business, liked to give Alvin crap for this. I ate lunch with them one afternoon and they got into one of their usual thickener arguments. Then, out of nowhere, Alvin said, "Did you know that Edward says he can have sex without Viagra!?"

Edward: I CAN!!!

Alvin: I don't believe it!

Me: Do you have enough thickener, Alvin?

Alvin: NO! Would you get me some more?!

Me: Of course!

Then we had Frank. Frank had been married about five times and was the true ladies man. One day I walked passed Frank's room and heard, "Hey...Mary...can you help me with something?"

I popped my head in the doorway. "Sure, Frank. What's up?"

"My shoulder is killing me. Can you put this stuff on it? I can't reach it."

"Sure, Frank."

I put a bit of the stuff my hand and quickly rubbed it into his shoulder.

Frank looked at me like I was insane. "Come on, Mary! Rub me like a woman rubs a man!"

"No Frank, I will not "rub you like a woman rubs a man." Ya know, you are the poster boy for dirty old man."

"Damn! I'd hate to be your boyfriend. Always sayin no!"

Later that day, Frank and I were washing dishes together and he continued to give me crap about how I didn't rub in the muscle relaxer right. I started singing to the tune of "Old Man River."

Old Man Frank
He's a dirty old man
Always saying something disgusting
Never shuts the hell up

Frank walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a pen and paper. "Write that down for me. My nurse is gonna love it!"

Along with a shopping outing to Wallmart and a day trip to the Casino Boat, there was a lot of walks around the beautiful property, conversations on the porch, and of course, Bingo. I volunteered to call the numbers one night and had no idea what I got myself into. In order to accomodate French-speaking Jacqueline, I used my high school French to call them in English and French. This created quite a controversy. Francis yelled, "What the hell is she saying?!"

I repeated myself. "Bey...Quatre...that's B4."

Francis: "WHAT?!"

Jacqueline smiled and nodded. While calling numbers, I was helping Marcia fill in her card. "How we doin, Mary!? Do we have anything yet?!" You'd think a blind woman wouldn't really care for Bingo but leave it to Marcia to have a grand 'ol time with it.

One night after dinner we had a talent show. The talent ranged from Alvin's scratchy-voiced rendition of "You Are My Sunshine" to Maria coming downstairs in a long t-shirt with a picture of a nightie on it, and then doing a sexy dance. I asked Marcia if she wanted to participate in the talent show and she said, "Oh, of course I would!" I led her over to the piano and she sat down with the usual smile plastered on her face. Everyone was ready to condescendingly appreciate her "talent." Then she quickly tickled those ivories into submission and crooned her way into everyone's hearts. What started out as one song for the talent show turned into a full-on Marcia-led sing-along. It was one old-timey hit after the other. We took breaks only to refill our wine glasses and get more snacks. It was honest to goodness fun.

So a happy 99th birthday to my good pal Marcia. Here's to at least one more! Marcia can break 100, I just know it!

Om Sweat Om

This morning Becki and I went to a Bikram yoga class at Om on the Range. (On, how punny!) Since it was our first time there we had a short orientation before the class started. The instructor, Beth, told us that we shouldn't worry about keeping up with the poses. Our main goal was to stay in the room for the full 90 minutes. If that meant laying down and taking breaks, then so be it. Really? All we have to do is stay in the room? I'm no Olympian, but I've done some Hatha yoga, I've run a few marathons and think I'm in okay shape- I think I can sit in a hot room for 90 minutes. Armed with our yoga mats, towels and bottles of water, Becki and I headed into the studio.

It was really freaking hot.

105 degrees to be exact. We followed the lead of the regulars and laid down on our mats. I could barely breath- I had no idea how I'd stay in that room for 90 minutes. I took deep breaths. I tried to calm my mind but all it was saying was, "GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS RIDICULOUSLY HOT ROOM! THIS is how you choose to spend your free time and $15?! WOMAN, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Sweat dripped off the side of my face on to my mat before Beth even entered the room.

Class began with a LOT of deep breaths which helped my fight or flight tendency immensely. Bikram is a series of 26 poses done twice each. I had done most, if not all, of the poses before in normal temperatures and not had all that much trouble. However, the heat made them all much harder. There were a few times when I chose to skip a pose, lay down and enjoy the feeling of laying in a pool of my own sweat. I seriously have never sweat or seen other people sweat that much. By the end of the class, my towel felt like I'd dropped it in a pool.

Becki and I shared more than a few "We are completely insane" looks, and occasionally threw in a "I'm pretty sure I'm gonna pass out and die" stare. But we did it. We both survived 90 minutes in that room with no breaks. After class was over, we overheard a few regulars complaning about how the room was particularly hot today. The instructor agreed. This made me happy. We survived under the most difficult of Bikram circumstances.

Did I mention that I can't wait to go back?

I have the most satisfying muscle pain right now. My skin feels great- it felt like I sweat out 90 percent of my body's toxins in just one class. And I know I will sleep like a rock tonight. I really liked the mind over matter aspect of it. I had no choice but to focus on breathing and forget everything else that is going on in my life. The calm Zen part of me wound up winning the battle with the whiney bitch in me that just wanted to leave. Plus, I'm hoping it'll be a bit easier to adjust to the temperature from here on out.

It's probably the same reason I (sort of) like running marathons but I'm not that much of a fan of running. There's something really cool about getting to that point where my body is moving forward and getting in a zone where I ignore the very rational part of me that says, "For the love of god, just sit down and take a nap." There's no room to stress about daily life BS because all I'm thinking is "move legs forward, breath, wow...my calf hurts, oh look, the lake looks pretty...ow, I think my eyeballs even hurt....ooh cool, another mile marker..." Speaking of, I'm thrilled that I'm not running the Chicago Marathon tomorrow. It's supposed to be in the high 80s. That is just ridiculous. But I'll be there cheering on friends and strangers. One of my happiest moments ever was during the 2002 New York City marathon, which the first of the three that I've done. I had taken the recommendation of friends and put my name on my shirt. Word was that hearing strangers call my name would be motivating. I was at about mile 21 and my legs were tighter than I'd ever felt. I stopped a couple times to stretch but it seemed like it was beyond repair. I just needed to run another 5 miles in excruciating pain. I turned a corner in the Bronx, and an old man sitting on his stoop yelled at me, "Hey Mary...if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere!" I smiled widely, thanked him and then took off like a gazelle. Ok, not really. But in my mind I was flying. I will never in my life forget that guy. He has no idea what a positive impact his funny little cheer had on me. Just thinking about crossing the finish line makes me get emotional. It's that guy, my family and friends that came, and thousands of other strangers cheering me on that helped get me there. Right now there are thousands of people pinning their numbers on their shirts, counting out their goo packets and getting ready to get minimal sleep because of excitement and fear of what tomorrow will bring. I can't wait to be there to cheer them on.

But for now, I'm gonna go meet a couple friends at a bar down the block.

Who's The Boss?

The following is an email I received from my friend Danny. You'd think with a passion for the Boss like this that he'd be from Jersey but then catch him when a Red Sox game is on, and it's clear he's a Boston boy. Point being- this is the feel good email of the century, and summarized my own Springsteen obsession perfectly. His show at the Meadowlands a few years ago was seriously one of best nights of my life. It's hilarious how truly typically Jersey it is, but thinking about those first notes of "Born to Run" being played-- still gives me chills. Happy Vinyl Anniversary, Danny! You totally get me!

To my family, friends, and loved ones,

It was called to my attention on Tuesday evening, October 2nd, that someone very close to me and I were celebrating a very important milestone. Everyone knows of the silver anniversary, and the always special golden anniversary; businesses celebrate with sales after certain years in business; but Julie called to my attention that this individual and I had reached that very special day that happens when two people share a very close bond.

'Danny, this is your tenth Bruce Springsteen concert?!? This is your Vinyl Anniversary!!!'

That's right, my family, friends, and loved ones, Bruce and I celebrated our 10th Concert Anniversary (Boston Fleetcenter, Asbury Park, New York, Providence, Albany, San Francisco, Fenway, Boston Orpheum, Boston Fleetcenter, and Hartford if you're counting at home) on Tuesday night, which will from now on be dubbed the Vinyl Anniversary, and we even exchanged gifts-Bruce gave me and four of my close friends an amazing night of straight forward, guitar driven rock n' roll, and I gave Bruce my voice...I lost it before Clarence's sax solo in the opening song, Radio Nowhere.

To say I was excited Tuesday was an understatement. I actually had trouble falling asleep. During the day I was quite busy with work stuff, which really helped the day fly by; I left my last high school of the day, jumped in my '59 Chevy with a 396, and went racing in the streets. Breaking the 'no-cell-phone-while-driving' laws in two states (NY and CT), I got updates from Shank, Jules, and Johnny about their location, had Patience direct me to her apartment, and responded to multiple 'have fun tonight!' texts. The traffic was heavy but moved; Patience and I ate Subway while driving to save time; I narrowly avoided a ticket by slamming on the breaks, getting down to just under 75 mph, as I passed through a radar zone. And we made it to Hartford in time to enjoy a beer at Coach's with the group before heading in.

Without further delay, I give you the setlist from the opening night of the 'Magic' world tour:

Setlist:
Radio Nowhere
The Ties That Bind
Lonesome Day
Gypsy Biker
Magic
Reason to Believe
Night
She's the One
Livin' in the Future
The Promised Land
Town Called Heartbreak
Darkness on the Edge of Town
Darlington County
Devil's Arcade
The Rising
Last to Die
Long Walk Home
Badlands
* * *
Girls in Their Summer Clothes
Thundercrack
Born to Run
Waitin' on a Sunny Day
American Land

For the really big Bruce fans, just look at this setlist-I was thrilled! Unless he plays his entire catalogue and some favorite covers, you will always leave wishing he played, say, Thunder Road for example. But this was a ridiculously good setlist, and rather than focus on omissions (like Thunder Road, not that it's my favorite song or anything, Bruce...and on our Vinyl Anniversary, of all nights!) I want to focus on the real highlights. First off, Radio Nowhere just plain rocks. It's a flat out show stopper and the cd doesn't do it justice. Actually, all of the new songs translate really well live, but the crowd isn't as familiar with them yet, as it was officially released that day, so naturally the roof was blown off when the staples came out. My favorite moments? Reason to Believe is a very, very bluesy rendition, and Bruce's harmonica work on it is masterful. Town Called Heartbreak was a great song that didn't reach most as it did me, and but to go from Night straight into She's the One...I was freaking out. Just ask Leslie, who was unfortunate enough to be sitting right next to me the entire time for her very first Springsteen concert. You can mail me the bill from your ear doctor, which I'm sure you'll need to visit after hearing me scream for two hours and 20 minutes. Usually, when people ask me what my favorite Bruce song is, the answer is the same as my favorite birthday present, favorite beer, or favorite Patriots Super Bowl. The next one. But when pushed, Night and She's the One definitely (probably) crack the top five. And the Rising, a celebration of civil servants everywhere, has a special place for me as the son of a Statie. To hear Thundercrack was shocking to me-it's a rare B side that was finally released on the Tracks box set a few years back, and I had never heard it live before. American Land was a very welcomed surprise, too-I absolutely love the Irish sound to it, and from across the arena I developed crushes on three girls who jigged and step-danced their way through the entire song (I'm a sucker for all things Irish-Irish dancing, Irish music, Irish girls, and that moment was a trifecta of 'things that Danny loves'). There is no better concert moment than when Max pounds out the intro, the entire venue light system goes on, and Born to Run turns a sea of fans and music lovers into a frenzy of fanatics and music lunatics.

There is no performer, at least that I've ever seen, who can control an audience like Bruce. All you have to do is witness Badlands. Thousands and thousands and thousands of people, nearly every one of them singing every word at the top of there lungs, pumping their fists in unison, feeding the band with passion and energy and life, is nothing short of an awe-inspiring sight. As my eyes wandered around the area, I couldn't help but wonder what it must feel like to be on stage. To witness all these people screaming back the words that you wrote, hanging on your every word and movement. The song goes, 'to the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside, that it ain't no sin to be glad you alive,' and it's in that line, smack in the middle of song that is defiance, I'm reminded of how fortunate I am. I hope that no one can say I'm not glad to be alive, because when I have nights like this, with one of the single greatest concerts I've ever been to, but mostly because I'm surrounded by all of you, I'm just busting at the seams a gladness to be alive.

After experiencing this show, I now more than ever want to take each and every one of you to one of our shows. I say our because it's not Bruce's show, and it's not Bruce's and my show. The music is not heard, it's not something you listen to or witness. It's something you experience. It's an experience that occurs only when these ten talented musicians and tens of thousands of faithful come together. And if you've spent more than five American minutes with me, you know the impact it's had. And I'll leave you, as I always do, with words of wisdom from Bruce himself. Sometimes, you just feel the need to 'explode and tear this whole town apart' and 'find somebody itching for something to start.' I want you to know that I'm hoping you're itching to share this part of me. From the rest of the Promised Land:

'The dogs on Main Street howl
'cause they understand
If I could take one moment into my hands
Mister I ain't a boy, no I'm a man
And I believe in a promised land'

Love,
Danny

Having the last laugh

Last night, Colleen, Becki and I were discussing political cartoons and how we often don't really understand them. My frustration with political cartoons began in 1980, when my second grade teacher, Mrs. Miller, assigned us a big project about that year's Presidential election. I recall a lot of clipping out articles and pasting them on red, white and blue construction paper. See what I did there? God bless America! I did my best to give Reagan, Carter and Anderson equal representation, even though I was secretly rooting for Anderson. I didn't get why Carter and Reagan were getting so much air time, when that John Anderson seemed just as middle-aged, white and rich.

I really was rockin that assignment except for one required ingredient. The political cartoon.

We had looked at tons of examples of political cartoons in class and each one left me more confused than the last. Every week I opened my parents' copy of Newsweek and flipped right to the Perspective page where they had "funny" quotes and a few cartoons. I rarely found them funny but it was the best part of the magazine as far as I could tell. I had a couple killer joke books that I would've been happy to lend to those Newsweek editors.
Example of joke from one of my books:
Kid: Mommy, mommy...daddy's on fire!
Mom: Quick! Get the marshmallows!

That one always had me in stitches.

I sat down to create my political cartoon. I began by drawing a picture of Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan. Seemed like a safe bet. They were politicians and were in the news. I knew it had to be political and timely. Then, I drew the conversation bubbles next to each of them. I stared at those empty bubbles for a while. I enlisted help from my mom. "So Ma...it's a cartoon but it's not supposed to be funny? I don't get it. So, they're just saying something, like a normal conversation? Do I just write them saying hi to each other?"

My mom, always of the "teach a man to fish" style of parenting, said, "Let's look at some examples!" She pulled out the Newsweek. I know you mean well, Ma, but been there, been totally confused by that.

I wanted to write something along the lines of, "Hey Ron, why do birds fly south in the winter?" "I don't know, Jimmy. Why?" "Cause it's too far to walk!" But apparently America wasn't ready for my comedy. I wound up just writing a completely boring, normal conversation in the bubbles. I included the word deficit cause I had heard Reagan throwing around the term and thought maybe adults found it hilarious.

Here it is about 27 years later, and I still would not be able to complete that assignment. Anytime someone demands that I read a a cartoon from the New Yorker that they found funny (and this happens more than you might think), my eyes glaze over a bit and I'm forced to recall some Get Fuzzy or maybe even an old Dilbert just so I can muster up a little chuckle.