Stop the Parade!

Block Island firefighters scramble.

One of the highlights of spending the Fourth of July on Block Island is the parade.  The Tournament of Roses this is not.  The Tournament of Beach Roses perhaps… 

Oh, there are the requisite flags and marching bands.  But the parade is renowned from one end of Rhode Island to the other for things like:  

Girls in bikinis dancing in the back of a truck.

Cardboard floats.

Rock bands on flatbed trailers.

Cars.

Kids. 

Dogs.

Whatever…

It’s an anything-goes display of genuine patriotism. 

So there we were perched in our usual spot on the hill next to the fire station (that’s my uncle in the red hat).  The fire trucks were parked in the field across the street so the space in the garage could be used as a seating area for the steak fry that follows the parade.

Suddenly, a guy comes running through the crowd yelling for everyone to get out of the way.  He literally jumped over my nephew.

At first, we all thought it was part of some wacky parade stunt — or maybe someone who’d had beer for breakfast.

Then we realized it was an actual fire call. 

The parade stopped in its tracks.  The bands fell silent, giving way to sirens.  The trucks raced off towards town.  But then, as they say, the show must go on.  So it did. 

I heard the incident was minor.  (Being on vacation, I didn’t feel compelled to dig for the rest of the story.)

Hats off to the Block Island Volunteer Fire Department.  Sorry you missed the parade.  It was a good one — and especially memorable thanks to your quick action.

Next year, you deserve to sit on the hill.

Rocking the Boat

Bow damage to M.V. Block Island

So I was on vacation for a few days last week, and I was hoping to escape anything having to do with the news…

No such luck.

I arrived at the ferry landing at Pt. Judith, Rhode Island (en route to Block Island) only to find a fleet of TV live trucks.  Ever the journalist, I asked the woman at the ticket window what was happening.  She replied:  “I’m not allowed to say anything.”

Translation:  This is big.

Turns out one of the ferries that plies the 12-mile run had collided in the fog with another vessel — which happened to be a Coast Guard cutter!

Thankfully, no one had to swim for it.  Especially since the water is still a little nippy up there.  (Actually, a little nippy is as good as it gets.  A lot nippy is the norm.)

The M.V. Block Island was able to make port just fine.  But as you can see, she has a pretty good ding above the waterline.

Certainly, I thought, I wouldn’t encounter any other excitement during my 3-day stay.  Oh, yeah?  Come back to the Factory tomorrow.

My next brush with news was even better.

A Shocking Phone Call

Earlier this afternoon I received a shocking phone call.  It was from a confidante of Luis Yanez, our Olympic boxer from Duncanville.

It appears that Luis has been kicked off the team.

Luis apparently missed a deadline to rejoin his teammates, who are now training in Argentina.  As a result, he has been removed from the team that will represent the U.S. in Beijing.

We’ll see what boxing’s governing body has to say in the coming days.

There are certainly plenty of questions left to be answered.  My first question is:  What exactly did Luis do that was so egregious that justifies his removal from the Olympic team?  I need more… 

The Olympics are always full of strange twists and turns.  Some are exhilerating.  Some are heartbreaking.  This is one of the latter. 

It might not be over for Luis.  Tonight he told us he thinks there’s still a possibility that he could be re-instated.  More twists and turns guaranteed to come. 

We’ll follow ‘em and keep you posted.

 

Window Into My World

First, an apology.

Sorry the sausage has been a bit sporadic lately.  It’s all the cat herding (see earlier post).

It’s been awhile since I updated you on the kitchen renovation.  That’s because the whole thing’s been on hold for various reasons.  Mostly travel.

But today was window removal/installation day.

I’m glad I was there when the guys got to work.  I was in the front of the house when the pounding started.  Something in my gut told me I’d better go take a peek.  Always listen to your gut.

They were getting ready to remove the windows — in the wrong room!

Once I got the guys back in the kitchen, I headed to the station.  As I pulled away, there was a giant hole in the side of the house.

I’m writing this at my desk, so I haven’t seen the end result.  Wish me luck!  I’ll let you know what happens on Monday.

Have a great weekend. 

Catching Up With Carly

I had a chance to catch up with Carly Patterson last night.  You remember Carly… our golden girl from the Athens Olympics.

Carly is a singer now, so we went to the Absolute Rehearsal Studios in Dallas to listen to her practice with her band.

I’ll be honest.  I had no idea what to expect.  And I’ll be honest about this:  Carly is good.  Really.  I promise I’d tell you otherwise.

My photographer and I agreed that Carly definitely has a second act.  She has a talented new band, catchy songs, and perhaps most important… new people around her to help her get noticed in a very tough biz.

Carly has also been accepted into a Disney “incubator” program that will help develop her talent and promote her music.  Disney doesn’t take just anyone.

She has an event coming up in Houston:

http://www.houstontx.gov/specialevents/cfot/kidszone.html

And as we get closer to the Beijing Olympics, we’ll be sharing Carly’s story.  In the meantime, if you want to see what she’s up to, check out her website:

www.carlypattersonmusic.com

 

  

 

Herding Olympic Cats

44 days until Beijing, and I’m going for the gold in cat herding.

You see, before I head to China, I’m putting together stories on our local athletes.  But that’s a lot harder than it might seem. 

Athletes might be from here, but that doesn’t mean they live or train here.

If they do, they’re busy.  This is the most intense training period of their lives.

Then there are the other characters in the story.  Parents, coaches, husbands, wives…  They have lives, too.

Some teams have yet to be selected.  When they are, there won’t be much time left before we all get on the plane.

Multiply all this by the number of North Texas athletes (it could be in the double digits) and you see why I’m feeling like a world-class cat herder.

Here kitty, kitty…  Get ready for your closeup! 

 

Things I Saw at the Airport

If I look a little sleepy today, it’s because I am.  My flight back to Dallas was delayed into the wee hours of this morning.  But it gave me lots of time to people watch in Albuquerque.  Among the interesting/amusing/disgusting/curious things I saw at the airport:

A man who chose to travel in his bathing suit.

A woman tweezing her chin.

A gentleman wearing shorts and bright turquoise knee socks.

A woman sealing a taquito in a Ziploc bag and tucking it in her purse.

A man lying face down on the carpet so his girlfriend could straddle his back and give a massage.

And then there was the man who sat in the seat directly behind me and talked the entire time — about himself.

Mercifully, the flight was shorter than the delay!  Ah, the joys of summer travel…

 

No Blog Today

As I write this, Tim Russert is being laid to rest.  Please take the time you would have spent reading my blog today and use it to remember him.

Thank you.

Plastic Surgery

Leave it to I-30 to provide me with blog material.

I was cruising through Grand Prairie this morning when a rough storm blew through.  Among the various items in flight over the highway was a large sheet of plastic.

I hit it, and then watched as it got sucked under my car.  It shot out behind me, and I thought I’d escaped unscathed from another commuting adventure.

I drove out of the tempest, and was motoring smoothly to Fort Worth when my car started making a sound similar to a Cessna on takeoff.  It was a pesky piece of furiously flapping plastic.

No problem.  I exited and pulled into the parking lot of a dead Burger King, figuring I’d just reach under and free the offending litter.  But what I found was yards of plastic wrapped and melted around my driveshaft. 

I’m not a car guy.  My brother got that gene.  He’s a mechanic who makes a very nice living off people like me.  But I thought, I can figure this out.  I have to figure this out.

In preparation for plastic surgery, I remembered the bath towel I always keep in the back of the car and the Swiss Army knife in the glove box.  (No, I was not a Boy Scout.)  

I spread the towel on the pavement so I wouldn’t get my white dress shirt dirty and slid under the vehicle.  What a mess.  I hacked and tugged, managing to remove most of the plastic.

But there was still a melted ring of goo around something that looked important, so I limped to the station, my ride now sounding like a riding lawnmower.

There are lots of people at TV stations who have lots of tools, so I requisitioned pliers and boxcutters, got out the trusty towel and went back to work.

Our Chief Photographer, Victor, was obviously concerned to see an on-air person under a vehicle.  (That’s generally a really bad thing.)  So Vic slid under the car with me and we sliced and pulled together.

Ten minutes of teamwork and victory was ours!  Thanks, buddy.  I owe you a beer.    

 

The Empty Chair

The moderator’s chair on Meet the Press was empty yesterday — left vacant as a tribute to Tim Russert.

If you missed the show, it was a touching celebration of Tim’s life.

Tom Brokaw guided the conversation among several of Tim’s closest friends and colleagues.  It was comforting to have him there.

(Brian Williams has been reporting from Afghanistan, and following Tim’s death he shared his many fond memories by satellite.) 

My heart ached for all of them, but especially Betsy Fischer, who is the Executive Producer of Meet the Press.  I know how close those professional relationships can be.  Aside from Tim’s family, there is perhaps no one who has a greater hole in their life.

Since Tim’s death, we have seen an inspiring display of grace, strength and compassion from all of his colleagues. That is not easy to do on television. 

I still find myself wondering if all this is real.  Sadly, it is. 

That was driven home this morning when I saw the remarkable conversation between Matt Lauer and Tim’s son, Luke.  Luke’s candor, composure and articulate thoughts would make his father proud. 

You can see it online.

Click.  It won’t bring you down.  It will lift you up — which is probably what Tim would want.

http://video.nbc5i.com/player/?id=263444