FIRECRACKERS

FIRECRACKERS

It is almost the fourth of July, firecracker time.  Mrs. Cranky loves firecrackers; myself, not so much.  I like the fancy professional displays especially if I can watch without driving to, parking at, and driving from the show.  The amateur fireworks, roman candles, bottle rockets, small fire crackers and even sparklers make me nervous.

My problem with fireworks goes way back; all the way back to the age of fourteen.  In those days every fourteen year old boy had the same two things in his possession, a condom in his wallet, and a cherry bomb hidden in his sock drawer.  The condom was just for show, or maybe for a water balloon fight if needed in a pinch.  The cherry bomb was the largest firecracker of the time.  Legend had it the cherry bomb could even be exploded under water.  The cherry bomb was reserved for the Fourth of July, the grand finale of a ten minute sparkler show, or for the toilet in the Jr. High boy’s room.  The cherry bomb being flushed down the toilet of the boy’s room threat had about the same possibility for actually happening as the condom had for any use other than a water balloon.

The fourteenth summer of my life, I planned to actually light my cherry bomb as part of a Fourth of July celebration.  I had purchased my cherry bomb (and my condom) from Johnny Pear, an older friend of mine several years before.  Johnny Pear was originally from the Bronx, New York City.  Johnny Pear had ways of getting stuff.

My two best “summer” friends were Billy Hopkins and Mark Geston.  The three of us were celebrating our country’s independence on the beach at Ocean City, New Jersey.  We had lit several sparklers, a few “lady fingers”, and were about to explode my precious cherry bomb when we were interrupted.  “Hey you kids; come here!”  Two flashlights zeroed in on us and we could see the policemen outside their patrol car with the bubble gum machine on top popping away.

We did not come there.  We ran like Hell off the beach, across a dune, over a fence, through several yards and into the rear entrance of the Geston House.  Mrs. Geston covered for us.  We laid low as she pointed the officers in the opposite direction.  In payment for this protection I had to give up my cherry bomb.  I have not attempted to light a firecracker since.

I currently have in my possession $80 worth of firecrackers, sparklers and rockets.  These were purchased legally in Pennsylvania.  You can buy the fireworks legally in Pennsylvania if you are not a Pennsylvania resident.  You cannot legally shoot them off in Pennsylvania, and you cannot transport them over the border to any state where fireworks are illegal.  Fireworks are not legal in any state bordering Pennsylvania, so the only thing a non-resident can legally do with Pennsylvania fireworks is buy them, never shoot them off and never leave Pennsylvania!

We now have these legally purchased illegally transported fireworks down at the Jersey shore.  Mrs. Cranky wants to shoot them off this Fourth of July.  I am too old to jump fences and hide in Mrs. Geston’s kitchen. 

This will be my third July 4^th with Mrs. Cranky.  I am afraid the real fireworks this Fourth of July will be my first argument ever with Mrs. Cranky!

P.S.  We fired off all the firecrackers and rockets and did not see any Police.  Compared to the other displays on the beach our display was like a fart in a hurricane! 

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BADGES? I DON'T NEED NO STINKING BADGES!

BADGES? I DON’T NEED NO STINKING BADGES!

I am down on the Jersey Shore for a two week vacation.  What’s that you say?  How can I be on vacation when I am retired?  I am tired of doing nothing, so I am on vacation from doing nothing!  Hey; if you work for 40 years you get to take a vacation from doing nothing!

Anyway, Mrs. Cranky, (she wasn’t cranky until she met me) teenage future cranky, and I are at the beach.  We are renting the basement apartment of my wife’s aunt’s (who is loaded with future blog stories) beach house (hmmm a double possessive; is that correct?).  It is a nice setup, and very reasonably priced for a two week stay.  The nicest thing about this rental is that it comes with six all-season beach passes.

Free beach passes may not seem like a big deal, but a weekly pass costs $30.  The three of us for two weeks would cost $180 for passes.  Up against a typical 2 week rental price of $4000 to $7000 this does not seem like much, but we are seldom all on the beach at the same time.  Naturally being a little on the thrifty side I usually only buy 2 passes. 

This starts the beach-pass-checker dodge game, especially when guests drop by for an afternoon visit.  Watch for the teenagers in the yellow bathing suits.  These are the checkers.  When you spot a checker, someone has to go in the water.  The designated badge dodger or dodgers must swim until they get the all clear signal.  “Look, is that a dolphin?”  When the dodgers see a group of sun bathers standing eyes shielded from the sun staring out to sea in search of the non-existent dolphin, they can come in from the water.

Suggestion-SHARK!! Is not a very good all-clear signal.

When the beach pass checker sneaks up on you always be prepared to show last year’s badge.  “What 2010? Damn I guess I left this year’s badge back at the house”   Other excuses:

Always bring four dollars to the beach.  A daily pass costs $5.  “Gee, I’m a buck short, can I catch you later?”

“Oh, I’m just visiting; my badge is on my chair two beaches over.”

“Sure, it’s right here….ah….damn, did I change my shirt.  The badge is on my other shirt back at the house.  Some kid dripped ice cream on it and I had to change.”

“The passes are on the chair over….hey someone stole my chair.  Did you see anyone with a blue chair with two badges on it?”

These excuses work, but now you have to spend the next two weeks at the beach wearing a fake beard and a long haired toupee.

I guess when you pay several thousand dollars to come to the beach you should spend the extra $60 a person to enjoy the beach guilt free.  The problem is I save all year for a beach house and I always forget to account for the beach passes.

Ok, I am just a cheap bastard.  Plus I am pretty sure those badge checkers are the same teenagers who egg bombed my house last Halloween; about 5 feet 7 inches, long hair, acne, and a strange low to high pitched voice inflection I’d know those kids anywhere! 

Badges? I don’t need no stinking badges!

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BOB ROSS

Posted for Melanie’s blog hop, Crowning Moments at “Here’s Living the Dream”
http://hereslivinthedream.blogspot.com/  I am not sure this is a “Crowning Moment”, but this show made me not just accept people who were a bit “different”, but also taught me to appreciate and embrace their uniqueness. 

                                             BOB ROSS

Do you remember Bob Ross?  Bob Ross was that painter dude on PBS. It’s OK; you can admit you watched him.  It turns out there were many closet Bob Ross fans.  Bob was boring, boring, boring.  And yet when he was on, you could not change the channel.  His quiet demeanor and slow delivery was hypnotic.

Bob Ross finished a painting on every show in under an hour.  His style was deliberate, slow and calm.  The result was quick and amazing.  I guess his paintings were not museum quality works of art, but his TV style was classic.  He taught his technique as he painted.  Every step of the way it looked as if he would take a nice painting and ruin it, but every change was an eye opening improvement.

Not happy with a beautiful stream, Bob had to add some trees. 

“I think I’ll add some trees here, you can too if you want.  It’s your world; you can put them where ever you want.  There that’s nice.  Over here perhaps some bushes.  I think a little grass would be growing around the bushes, and right by the stream I think I see some happy little cat tails.”  As easy as Bob stated what he saw, it was on the canvas. 

Bob used a different brush for each of his special effects; instant leaves, snow on tree limbs, dead branches and more.  He didn’t just mix any colors; it would be “titanium white”, or “cadmium red”, “burnt siena,” “yellow ochre”, and “midnight black”.

The move that impressed me the most was the reflection on the water trick.  Bob had his lake and his trees on the bank, now he needed the trees to reflect on the water.  Grabbing a dry fan brush, Bob drew the brush quickly over the trees down across the water and created a perfect reflection in seconds.  “No FUCKING WAY,” I would respond to this move no matter how many times I witnessed his technique.  If this was not enough, Bob would then step back and look at his world on the canvas and say, “I think there is a little breeze today.”  He then cleaned and dried his fan brush and stroked sideways with a slight wiggle across the water and the perfect reflection was now a slightly distorted reflection representing the ripples on the water that a slight breeze would cause.

Bob Ross was not a master painter.  I don’t believe his works sell for large sums of money.  Maybe that’s because he could create a beautiful landscape in less than an hour.  There must be thousands of Bob Ross originals in circulation.

I think the man was a genius!  He would capture my attention for an hour, even though I had no real interest in painting.  I thought I was the only one who appreciated Bob Ross.  I never mentioned to any one that I watched his show.  I never knew there were other Bob Ross fans.

Bob Ross died in 1995 from lymphoma.  He was only 52 years old.  When I learned of his passing, I mentioned to several people that I missed this strange artist.  He had a fluffy afro hairdo, a full beard, and he sounded like Mr. Rodgers as he painted.  “Oh yeah, you mean Bob Ross.”  Was the inevitable reply.  “He was great, I watched him all the time.”  Apparently there were millions of Bob Ross fans.  I am no longer ashamed to admit I could not change the channel when he was doing his thing.

I miss you Bob.  I think I’ll put a tree over here, it’s my world I can put it where ever I want.  Maybe, just maybe there is a little stream running happily through the trees!  I never saw these things before, thanks Bob, for pointing them out.

For those that don't know Bob Ross check him out on You tube -Bob Ross.

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