From A Bird's Eye View

Posted in opinion

I COULD DO THAT!!!

February 24, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:4 Comments

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Me – on a slope that looks nothing like the Downhill.

Today is a sad day for me – the Olympics are over. Champions were crowned, losers were consoled, and the women’s hockey team grabbed defeat from the jaws of victory. I am a huge fan of the Olympics – Winter more than Summer. I think that’s because I relate more to winter sports. Oh sure, I was on the swim team in high school and did some gymnastics well into college, but let’s just say I wasn’t too graceful at either sport. In fact, someone rather close to me commented that I moved like a hippopotamus in three feet of mud. But the winter sports! Just strap something on my feet and put me on a slippery surface and I’m golden. So for the past two weeks I have watched the skiers and the skaters with envy and unbridled enthusiasm. I have to admit that the slopestyle skiing and snowboarding of any ilk is way beyond me and my knees hurt just watching the aerial skiers. But I actually commented to my husband during the downhill ski race, “I could do that!”. He ignored me, sure that I was just making another of my Walter Mitty-type comments. But in my heart, I really do think that I could ski an Olympic downhill course. Because even though I’m 63, I think I’m 45.

I’m a Gold Medal winner in Doughnuts

I mentioned this to a friend the other day and she told me she had suffered from the same delusions until she took the Real Age Test. She suggested that I go online to Dr. Oz’s website and see just how old my body is. Simple enough. I began by answering some obvious questions – Do I Have Aches and Pains? Do I Suffer from Digestive Tract issues? Am I Often Anxious? I was sailing through these questions – any moron could answer this stuff. But then wise Dr. Oz started throwing in some trickier subjects like “How Much Do You Drink?”. Hmmmm….this was a stumper. Our doctor told us that he automatically DOUBLES the answer his patients tell him when asked this question. So my first quandary was to determine if Dr. Oz is as wily as our doctor. Not that I drink that much anymore but still…I was trying to determine my Real Age here and I didn’t want to have the alcohol algorithm adding any extra time. Secondly, there’s the whole seasonal factor. I drink more in winter because we go out more in winter. So do I average the number over the whole year or answer for right now? This was not going to be easy. I moved on to food. Fruits and vegetables have never been my strong suit. We bought a VitaMix a couple of years ago thinking that we would make green smoothies every day but so far I’ve found that it whips up a pretty mean ice cream gin fizz. Actually, we’re fairly healthy eaters but when faced with a piece of cake or a fresh piece of sourdough bread I have all the willpower of a six-year-old at a birthday party. Finally, the smartypants people who devised this test ask about your “feelings”. But not just depression or how often you laugh inappropriately. They ask you to rate your belief in statements like “Most People Would Lie To Get Ahead”. Jeez!! OF COURSE most people do that. I worked in Human Resources for 32 years and I could tell you stories about made up crap on resumes that would make your hair stand on end. But…I could see the sneaky Dr. Oz baiting me on this one – if I answer truthfully he will “age” me because I am a negative, cynical, old bitty who always sees the glass half empty. So I lied.

Proof that Attitude is Everything!

When I completed their barrage of questions I felt like I’d been grilled by a prison guard at Gitmo. I was sweating bullets, just waiting for them to calculate my Real Age. Turns out I’m not 45, I’m 57. They gave me all sort of pats on the back for some healthful living and congratulated me on being younger than my actual age. Still…even at 57 I guess I’m too old to ski the downhill course. So instead I’ve decided I’m going to focus on Figure Skating. A few years ago I laced up some skates in Sun Valley and made it around the WHOLE rink once before falling. Oh sure, it wasn’t exactly a double Axel but it’s a start. And my new hero is Yvonne Dowlen, pictured here, who is still figure skating at 87 years old. She says that if she can walk, she can skate. I like her attitude; I’d venture a guess that she’s never even come close to taking a Real Age test. And I suspect that when the doctor asks her how many drinks she has per week she gives him a steely-eyed look and tells him to mind his own damn business.

Posted in opinion

Samoans Vanish from the Face of the Earth

February 17, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:3 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

No, not this Samoan

It’s February and my New Year’s ‘diet resolution’ was already as precarious as a politicians promise; then along comes those adorable, freckled-faced girls in green uniforms to push it completely over the precipice. Yes, it’s Girl Scout Cookie time and I was first approached by those purveyors of baked goods as I came out of my local super market last week. I rationalize my purchase by telling myself I’m supporting a good cause, and deep down I knew that I was really not going to get much thinner . . . again this year. So I walked up to their card table set up outside the grocery store door and pondered my options.

I like Peanut Butter cookies and Thin Mints, but I love the Samoans – those vanilla cookies topped with caramel and sprinkled with toasted coconut and laced with chocolaty stripes – they are ‘good-bye diet’ delicious! I said, “I’ll take a box of Thin Mints, a box of Peanut Butter cookies and 5 boxes of Samoans.” Yes, 5 boxes. I knew I could polish off one box by the time I drove home from the grocery store.

The next words I heard temporarily shattered my cookie-eating world. “OK, thank you, but we don’t have Samoans anymore.” I froze and stared at this little person delivering this tragic news and started to put my wallet back in my pocket, “We now call them ‘Caramel deLites’ – they’re the same thing”, she continued as she handed me a box to examine. I was offended on two fronts, although I tried not to show it as I knew the young lady standing and smiling in front of me with a tooth missing, had nothing to do with either. First, these cookies are not ‘Lite’ anything – a serving, which is 2 cookies about the size of a silver dollar, is 130 calories – that’s more than a pint of Guinness! Just sayin’. Secondly, and more importantly, are we no longer calling them Samoans because by doing so we could be offending Samoans everywhere? Was the name changed out of concern for being politically correct? Give me a break! What country or ethnic group would not want to have that delicious cookie named after them?!”

I almost gave the boxes back, but I was fairly sure that the Girl Scout standing in front of me probably didn’t have much to do with the name change and certainly wouldn’t follow my comparing and contrasting the calories with a Guinness. So I tried to take the high road and paraphrased Shakespeare saying, ” I suppose a Samoan by any other name doth taste as sweet.” At that point the Girl Scout’s mother, not knowing what her daughter was going to be subjected to next, stepped between her daughter and me and encouraged me to either buy something or move along, that there were people behind me who didn’t care about the name, the calories, or Shakespeare for that matter, saying, “We’re just trying to sell cookies here to send our girls to camp.” Which was code for, “Quit creeping my daughter out and either buy some cookies or get the hell out of the way.”

On my way home, while finishing off that box of Samoans (I refuse to call them ‘Caramel de-Lites’), I was thinking, about the misuse of the word ‘Lite’ in advertising as well as the hyper-sensitivity to being ‘politically correct’. I get it that some Native American Indians don’t want to be a ‘mascot’ of American sports teams, but if we’re insulting the Samoans by naming a cooking after products from their islands, then we need to look at changing a number of other food items if we are genuinely concerned about being politically correct’. To wit:

– I’m sure we’ve insulted the English by naming a muffin after them?

– We’ve certainly insulted the Brazilians by naming a nut after them!

– I suppose Italian pizza should be called ‘Lo-Cal Mediterranean Cheese, Meat & Sauces on Lite Bread’

– Are we still insulting the Polish by naming a sausage after them?

– I’m not sure if Scottish folks are insulted by having Scotch named after them – or were they named after the Scotch?

– And what about the Turkey sandwich? Oh, never mind.

– Should Maine lobster with drawn butter now be called ‘Northeastern crustacean with Lite oleo’

– How about renaming French Fries ‘Anti-American, bath-needing, sniveling, wine-sipping, bastards Fries’

Well perhaps I do need some political sensitivity training, and I’ll get some as soon as the Girl Scouts bring back the Samoans.

Posted in Family • opinion

PERFECTING “THE POPPINS”

February 10, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:4 Comments

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

The Original

Those of you who follow my brother or me on Facebook know that last Friday would have been our dad’s 100th birthday. For those of you who don’t follow us…it still would have been his 100th birthday. He was a much-loved man, affectionately known as “Poppins” to one and all. Whenever our family gets together we tell funny stories about him and do “The Poppins”. What is that, you ask? Well, whenever Pop’s martini ran dry, he would set the empty glass on top of his bald, round head, signifying that a refill was necessary. He did it at home, of course, but also in restaurants, bars, and airplanes. It never ceased to get a laugh…and an immediate refill. So now that he’s gone, anyone who puts an empty glass on their head is doing “The Poppins”.

Last Christmas as the family was gathered at Bob’s house we talked about how we might turn “The Poppins” into a marketing tool for a liquor company. We agreed that we first needed to make it a “thing” – kind of like Miley Cyrus and her twerking, only funnier and not disgusting. We had a fun conversation about it and plenty of laughs and then forgot all about it. But last week, on what would have been his 100th birthday, we posted a picture of him and requested that everyone hoist a glass in his honor. We got some amazing toasts but also received pictures of people doing “The Poppins”. We thought it might be fun for everyone to join in so, really as a public service, herewith is a primer on how to do “The Poppins”.

1. Start Simple – and Unbreakable. This is critical. No one thinks it is funny or cute to have broken glass and red wine spilled on their white carpeting. So start slowly. A plastic cup is perfect. In fact in my opinion the Red Solo cup people ought to be jumping on “The Poppins” bandwagon. Next, a little bit of liquid adds weight and makes it easier to balance. Trust me on this. At our dad’s memorial service I took a plastic cup up to the podium so I could demonstrate “The Poppins” to the SRO crowd. I knew I was on thin ice to begin with and didn’t want to further annoy the minister by having the cup tumble all over the altar. So I filled the cup half way with water. It worked like a charm, although I think I am still going straight to hell after that stunt. In any event, as pictured right, our good friend Marge Dunn sent us a picture on Friday of her doing “The Poppins” and she has done everything right – plastic cup for outdoors, still filled with liquid, and grinning from ear to ear. Perfection!

2. Improvising is Key . Sometimes, it is not just a martini or wine glass that needs filling. As you can see from the picture at left, Bob’s son Jeff chose to do “The Poppins” at work. Since pretty much every workplace frowns on consuming alcohol during working hours, he chose to improvise. Smart boy! A coffee mug is a perfectly acceptable tool and is also good for beginners. My husband has been putting his empty coffee cup on his head for years now. Long ago he figured out that whenever I saw him do that I would chuckle and think of my dad. So instead of saying something like, “Gee, dear, why don’t you get up and pour your own cup of coffee?”, I gingerly pick it up off his head and toddle off into the kitchen. I suspect he is secretly teaching the dog how to balance his bowl but I can’t be certain.

3. “The Poppins” Masters. Eventually, with enough practice, you will be able to graduate from plastic cups and coffee mugs to fine stemware. This gets tricky and should be done with some amount of judgement (assuming that anyone who is putting a glass on their head has some judgement). For example, if you’re going to your new boss’ house for the first time, I wouldn’t try doing “The Poppins” with their Waterford wine glasses. However, I once was at a corporate retreat (“retreat” meaning 10 minutes of business and 5 hours of golf) followed by a small cocktail party, where I demonstrated “The Poppins”. We then repaired to the hotel’s snobby dining room where the waiter apparently thought we were in a gulag. No water, no bread, no service. But…at the slight encouragement of my teammates, I put the very fine wine stem on my head and VOILA! the waiter came rushing over to our table. So…”The Poppins” really does have some practical applications. Two of the best practitioners of “The Poppins” in our family are daughter Wendy and brother Bob, pictured here. You can only aspire to be this good.

It is truly a skill worth learning. You will have fun, make people laugh, and get your glass refilled at record speed. What could be better than that? So help us popularize “The Poppins” at your next outing and let us know how it goes. Disclaimer: Breakage, dry cleaning bills and humiliation are to be assumed by the trainee.

Posted in travel

My Evening with the Eagles

February 3, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:4 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

I have a friend, who happens to know a guy, who is an acquaintance of the road manager for the Eagles, so I felt distantly-connected for getting good tickets for the kicking off of their History of the Eagles concert tour at the ‘Even More Fabulous Forum’ last week. My friend said, that his buddy told him, that the road manager indicated that we’ve got great floor seats with back-stage passes AND we’ll have an opportunity to grab a bite to eat with the Eagles prior to the concert – are you in? “Am I in? You’ve got to be kidding me – the Eagles are my all time favorite group. Book it!’

The limo was real

Our limo was waved up right next to the entrance to the Forum Club, a well-dressed gentleman escorted the four of us into ‘the club’ and then into a separate room where there were only about twenty people. Among those twenty were Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Timothy B. Schmit and Joe Walsh – the Eagles, who were casually moving amongst the guests, meeting and chatting with them. I personally got to meet them all and in fact carried out a plan to give Don Henley a $2 bill saying, “I sang one of your songs, For My Wedding, at my daughter’s wedding, but changed the words to fit the occasion, so I figured I owed you a royalty of some kind.” I held out a $2 bill. He looked at me sternly, grabbed the $2 bill, then smiled and said, “It’s about time you paid up!” and we both had a good laugh. He kept the $2.

I thought I was too excited to be really hungry, but the food looked and smelled so good I had to try it – I ended up trying it a lot. I didn’t think I was that thirsty either, but how do you pass up ‘having a cold one’ with the Eagles? OK, maybe a couple of cold ones. OK, OK, it was more than a couple, but it was free . . . and it was the Eagles for crying out loud! After about 30 minutes the Eagles said their good-byes and went off to prepare for the concert. We stayed a while longer, eating, drinking and thanking the people that made this all possible; we were then escorted to our seats – floor level, middle, 6 rows back – perfect!

The concert started with just Don & Glenn (yes, we’re now on a first name basis) coming on stage with guitars and singing ‘Whatever Happened to Saturday Night?’ Other band members, including former member and guitar virtuoso, Bernie Leadon, gradually joined them on stage.

“BOB? BOB? BOB, WHERE ARE YOU?” LINDA SAID AS OUR LIMO PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT OF THE FORUM. “OH, SORRY, I WAS JUST IMAGINING HOW THE EVENING WAS GOING TO UNFOLD.”

Pink’s hotdog

Reality first struck when we picked up our tickets at Will Call, which I now refer to as ‘Won’t Call’ – no backstage passes! So instead of a gourmet meal with the Eagles that I had envisioned, we bought a Pink’s hot dog from a vendor wandering through the masses in the Forum lobby. Don’t get me wrong, I like Pink’s – it’s an LA landmark that started with a funky little hot dog stand back in 1939, but it wasn’t the beef filet tornados sliders on Hawaiian rolls that I had imagined. Of course, there was no personally meeting the Eagles and the seats . . . well, not exactly floor level, but we could see the floor from where we were, more importantly, we could see the ‘Jumbotron’, which is where we watched most of the concert. Right before the concert began, I was almost expecting to hear the announcement, “Sitting in for Glenn Frey this evening will be Stir Frey, Glenn’s older, tone-deaf brother.”

Not our actual seats – I was visiting a friend . . . really!

Further reality sunk in when the concert actually began – the Eagles are still amazing – great harmonies, great musicians and great guitar riffs. They talked to us between songs and provided stories around the history of the group and the songs. Glenn Frey said he wrote ‘Lyin’ Eyes’ after the divorce from his first wife, whose name was ‘Plaintiff’. The sound system, which was an integral part of the recent $100 million makeover of the Forum, was second to none in the world (so I’m told, I haven’t actually heard them ALL). In my opinion, the only thing they neglected in that makeover was to move the Forum out of Inglewood.

All in all it was a wonderfully entertaining evening, both real and imagined.

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Posted in opinion

REVISITING THE MIDDLE AGES

January 27, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:1 Comment

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

I was watching television the other day and up popped an advertisement for a DVD collection of the old “Andy Griffith Show“. And, yes, you would be correct in assuming that I was not watching MTV. Clearly the distributors are trying to tap into the sentiment some of us Baby Boomers hold for a show that reflects a much more innocent time and place. But it was not the bucolic setting or regional twang that made me sit up and take notice. It was the picture of Frances Bavier, who played the wonderful character of “Aunt Bee”. She always seemed so comforting and endearing. She was the “go to” person for problem solving and home-baked apple pie. I wanted to know a little more about her; more specifically, I was curious as to how old she was when she played that part. The wonderful thing about both Google and an iPad is that all those questions we used to ask ourselves somewhat rhetorically can now be answered immediately. So I looked up Ms. Bavier on Wikipedia and was shocked to learn that she was only 58 when she started on the show. Jeez – I thought she was about 100.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. It seems that whenever I’m watching a classic movie or TV show I think about how much older people used to look. It happens with both sexes but is perhaps more prominent with women. Actresses that played middle-aged moms looked plump and matronly. They wore housedresses, sensible shoes and hats. They ate saturated fats, tons of sugar and drank bourbon. And in real life they were only 50 years old. Gloria Swanson, for example, was 50 when she played the washed up movie star Norma Desmond in “Sunset Boulevard”. Contrast that with today’smovie icons. Kim Cattrall, pictured right, was 58 when this photo was taken. A far cry from Aunt Bee at the same age. Of course, today’s stars have the benefit of hair color, skilled plastic surgeons and fitness trainers. They wear designer clothes and shoes that could double as railroad spikes. Instead of girdles they have whole-body Spanx. This trend toward looking younger has spawned the phrase “60 is the new 40”. I’m actually beginning to hear that “70 is the new 50”, which I think is a direct reflection of our refusal to grow old. I’m sure by next year 80 will be the new 60.

But despite our outward appearances for the better, there are some things that can’t be buffed or blown or suctioned away as we age. Teeth, for one thing. I don’t know anyone over 60 who hasn’t had crowns, bridges, implants or root canals. Oh sure, their teeth have been “brightened” by the latest technology but just like horses, teeth always give our age away. Another seemingly inescapable fact of aging is bad backs. Despite hours of sit-ups and “focusing on our core”, the back just eventually wears out. We spent an hour at a cocktail party the other night listening to everyone’s tales about lower back pain and how it has ruined – RUINED! – their golf game. As if they were par shooters to begin with. Finally, the aging factor that starts more arguments than any other: hearing loss. The most frequently uttered sentence in our house is: “What? I can’t hear you!” That is only rivaled by “Could you please turn that TV down/up!” (depending on who is speaking). Sure, they make rather small and unobtrusive hearing aids these days but, like alcoholics, the first step is the hardest – admitting that you have a problem. Which explains why so many of our friends are now watching TV in separate rooms. It’s easier than arguing about volume and having to face the fact that we are turning into our grandparents.

But no matter how much we’re decaying on the inside, it’s good to know that if we so choose, we women can sustain a more youthful outward appearance with a little effort and a lot of money. Or we can put on a jaunty little flowered hat and try to exude the same kindly, well-worn and lovable countenance as Aunt Bee. The point is – we have options. Welcome to the new middle ages.

Posted in The Tape

Chap. 2 The Tape – Searching for Xoon

January 20, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:3 Comments

(Writer’s note: if you missed Chapter 1 you can find it in our archives at the right. Our free subscription will send our blog to your email every Monday morning.)

by Bob Sparrow

With my thumb and forefinger I fished the shell casing out from the bottom of my shirt pocket and held it in the sunlight coming through my windshield as I sped down Interstate 5 on my way home. It was the last tangible reminder of my now deceased best friend, given to me after the service by his sister. The crack of the military rifles still echoed in my ear – a resounding period at the end of his life sentence.

“God dammit Don, why didn’t you take better care of yourself?”

He answered, “Didn’t we always say that ‘life was too long’?”

“It was just a joke!”

“Was it?”

I drove in silence for the next three hours, although it wasn’t exactly silent, in fact my mind was filled with a thousand memories – it was actually quite noisy in there. I shouldn’t call classical music ‘noise’, but he loved the song Nessun Dorma, we listened to it together as the hair on our arms would stand on end. Now, as I drive in the vast openness of central California, that melody was haunting me as an ear worm.

Being a rather unsophisticated fan of opera, I would later learn that the song is from the opera, Turandot, by Puccini, which ironically, or not, is about solving riddles. It features an unknown prince, a bitchy princess as well as some torture and beheadings. Pretty much like operas today, only now they’re prefaced with ‘soap’. While Nesun Dorma sounds like a beautifully majestic love song, the lyrics and the storyline in the opera are actually quite menacing. For those not familiar with the song, and even those who are and enjoy a good aria, I’ve attached a link to the 3-minute video of Pavarotti’s offering in 1994 – you may have to copy and paste it into your browser – it’s worth it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTFUM4Uh_6Y

I wondered what all this had to do with anything (as you may be wondering yourself!). The Tape was already in the car’s cassette player so I just punched ‘Play’. No longer trying to figure out what was being said, I listened more broadly to the rhythm, the pulse of it. What I heard for the first time was what clearly sounded like changes in the language being used. It was still all unintelligible, but it now seemed clear that the language being used was changing several time throughout the 90-minute tape.

I heard a number of words and phrases repeated throughout the first several minutes. One such phrase was Eviatem non Cawhoea. I’m sure the spelling here isn’t correct as I just wrote it down phonetically . . . while I was driving. Of course it meant nothing to me, but I thought about a colleague, Matt, with whom I used to teach and who now was a professor of language at nearby Chapman University, who just might be able to help.

Matt tilted his head towards the cassette player in his office, narrowed his eyes and was motionless as he listened to The Tape. As the cassette wheels spun I watched his eyes furtively shift, widen then frown. I silently pointed to the tape, as if to make him listen harder when the Eviatem non Cawhoea part was coming up for the second time. After it was spoken I clicked off the tape.

“Those words are repeated several times in the first few minutes” I told him, “Any idea what it is?”

“Maybe”, he responded as he turned to the bookshelf behind him and ran his index finger along a row of old books until he found what he was looking for. He pulled it from the shelf and gingerly laid it on his desk and turned to the page as noted in the Table of Contents.

Pointing at the page he said, “Yes, here it is right here, it is in fact . . . gibberish.”

“Oh thank you esteemed professor of language, I knew you could solve this mystery. Seriously, does any of it make any sense to you?”

“Actually some of it does. The phrase, Iviatim non Cahuilla, which is repeated several time probably refers to the Iviatim or Ivia language of an ancient Indian tribe, related to the Aztecs; they’re actually indigenous to the deserts here in Southern California. Cahuilla, (pronounced kah-wee-ah) was the name for Iviatim that was used by the missionaries and ranchero owners. It was the Spanish first, then the Mexicans that took over their land.”

“Why did they change the name? Can you translate any more of it; do you think it tells us why they changed the name?

“Hold on with the questions for a minute. I’m afraid I can’t translate anything more, that language is nearly extinct; there are probably less than 50 people in the world that can still speak it. Fortunately for you most of them are out in the Palm Springs area. Someone out there may be able to answer your questions.”

“Thanks Matt, any ideas on how I would go about finding any of the 50 people that still speak this language?”

“Well, you’re probably not going to find them sitting around the pool at the Marriott sipping a Pina Colada, but I think I can point you in the right direction.”

I would learn later that Matt actually knew exactly where to send me, and he knew why the name was changed, but he had his reasons for not being the one to give me the answers.

Posted in opinion

OBEDIENCE SCHOOL FOR PEOPLE

January 13, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:6 Comments

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Recently we have been putting Dash the Wonder Dog through his paces at obedience school. This past weekend he graduated from the Intermediate level and next week begins a six-week journey to become a Canine Good Citizen. Actually, the training is more for me. I am learning that consistency and discipline are not exactly my strong suits. More on that later.

Today I want to write about the brilliant idea I had during Dash’s training – Obedience School for People! Don’t laugh – think about how much less annoying life would be if everybody had to attain their Good Citizen certificate. One of the major complaints we hear, either in person or on TV, is how rude and inconsiderate people are these days. “Honkers” in traffic, people with full carts in the Express Check-out line, someone in front of you at Starbucks ordering Cappacinos for their entire office. But imagine a world where people were actually trained as well as our dogs! To prove my point, here are some examples:

1. Fetch – with canines the dogs are taught to go get something that you’ve thrown and bring it right back to you. Oh, if only this had applied to some of my friends over the years. I have loaned – and not gotten back – clothing, utensils, garden equipment and various other household items. As an example, a friend “borrowed” my book on figure skating written by the great sportswriter Christine Brennan. That was in 1997. For the first year I hinted to her that I wanted to refresh my memory about some skaters and would sure like to re-read the book. Nothing. Several other hints were also met with inaction. Finally, when we were moving out of state and I was pretty sure that I would never see her again I came right out and reminded her that the book was about two years overdue at my personal lending library. Still…to this day the book resides on her bookshelf, permanently “borrowed” from me. But – and here’s where the brilliance of my plan comes in – if my friend had been through training I could have said “fetch” and my book would have been promptly returned.

2. Wait – dogs are not generally long on patience or attention spans. Sort of like husbands. So the “wait” command teaches them to pause before entering or exiting a room or to stop doing whatever they’re doing (like bugging you to throw the ball for the 1,000th time). I was thinking about the “wait” training trick when I was standing outside Costco the other morning. I was there about five minutes before they opened and joined a crowd of about 20 people. It was not particularly cold – it’s Scottsdale for Heaven’s sake – nor was it the morning before a holiday. In other words, there should have been no overriding sense of urgency. But at 9:03 when the big steel door still had not opened, not one but two (!) people called the store demanding that they open up. And in rather harsh terms, I might add. Now I have to admit, I love Costco. I own stock in the company, I think they treat their employees well, and best of all, if you time it just right you can get a free meal by swerving through the aisles picking up all the free samples. So when people are so impatient and rude that they are yelling at the nice Costco people for being THREE MINUTES late, I think that is a call to action. If ever there was a need for people to heed the “wait” command, it is apparently at the Scottsdale Costco.

3. Heel – this is actually a technical term for when the dog is facing forward with its shoulder at your calf. It is called their “positional space”. Boy oh boy, based solely on my observations, “heel” is a concept where we humans fall woefully short. We’ve all experienced the personal space invasion – the drunk at the cocktail party who stands so close that you could critique their dental work, the oaf at the movies who hogs the armrest, or the dunderhead at the Little League game who has to sit thisclose to you on the bleachers when three rows stand empty in front of you. The worst violators seem to be on airplanes. There are the Droolers, the Seat Tilters who leave you no leg room, and of course, the Sleepers. I once had the misfortune to be in the window seat next to a rather large man who not only spread out all over the empty middle seat, but apparently suffered from narcolepsy. Despite several attempts to wake him, he slumbered on. My gyrations to crawl over him to get to the restroom would make a call girl blush. If everyone was required by the rules set down in my Good Citizen requirements we could confidently enter the public square and – this is critical – airplanes, knowing that everyone would stay in their own darn “positional space”.

I’m sure there are other examples of how we might “train” people I’d love to hear your ideas. In the mean time, I’m sticking with the dogs. I think my success rate will be better.

Posted in opinion • travel

‘The Tape’

January 6, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:15 Comments

(Author’s note: I have many interesting places to go this year and I thought I would add the following ‘search’ to my adventures. I’d be interested in your feedback of this episodic allegory – good, bad or indifferent. If you don’t like it, Suzanne will be back next week with something more normal I’m sure.)

by Bob Sparrow

‘The Tape’

I turned The Tape over in my hands several times; examining it like it was a rare gem – which, in fact, it might be. The title written on the plastic cassette case was ‘In Search of Xoon’. Xoon was my dog in Japan in 1968. Titles, I must tell you, were always non-sequiturs of sorts, never really pertaining to anything on the tapes – ‘Music to Slit Your Wrists Over’, ‘Zsa Zsa Sing Bob Dylan’ and ‘Garbage Soup’ to name a few.

I exchanged a number of cassette tapes with Don while he was living in the Middle East in the late 80s and throughout the 90s. We’d affect our DJ voices and ‘do a show’ for each other; I’d send him the latest hits from the US, he’d send me off-the-wall songs from his vast collection of eclectic music – we’d separate the music with talk about the news of the day as well as the personal issues going on in our lives – 90 minutes, commercial-free. It kept us close at a time when the Internet was not available to the common man, or even two uncommon men like ourselves. I think there were 39 tapes in all, plus the one I was holding, the one he sent toward the end of his stay there; the one in a strange language, a very strange language. When I first listened to it I thought it was going to confirm that ‘Paul was dead’. It was just gibberish, backwards or forward. I fast-forwarded it to see if the gibberish stopped and he started talking in English, it didn’t and he didn’t. B-side was the same, ninety minutes of gibberish, but it was commercial-free . . . I think. I concluded that he had spent too much time wandering in the desert sun or had been captured by a herd of Bedouin camels and was forced to confess something. I think it was he talking on the cassette, although it sounded a bit altered or perhaps addled. No, I’m sure it was his voice – now that I think about it, it was unmistakable – I could hear the humor in his voice even though I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. But after 50 years of companionship with this eccentric genius, I was used to not understanding a good deal of what he was saying.

He lived 13 years in Ta’if, which is in the Sarawat Mountains of Saudi Arabia, so he spoke some Arabic, but The Tape was not in any form of Arabic, it had a much more euphonious, even a melodic lilt to it. He had lived in Sicily in the shadow of Mt. Etna at Sigonella Navel Air Station and spoke Italian. He spent several years in Caracas, Venezuela at the foot of the Maritime Andes, so he knew several dialects of Spanish and Portuguese. The language on The Tape was none of these. It didn’t sound like he was reading from something, it sounded very improvisational. What the hell was he saying and why had he sent this to me? In subsequent tapes and years later in face-to-face conversations with him when he came back to the states, I’d ask him about The Tape.

I said, “OK, are you going to tell me what was on that crazy tape?”

“Did you destroy it?”

“No”

“So do you mean what is on the tape?”

“Yes! Were you drinking when you made it?”

“Don’t you have to be drinking to spend 13 years in Saudi Arabia?”

I got so frustrated with his answering a question with a question that I stopped asking him about it altogether – I’d show him! Who cares about this stupid, nonsensical tape anyway? I forgot all about it.

Cassette carrying case

Every few years, particularly on a long, solitary drive, I’d put my cassette carrying case in my car and pop in tape after tape – it was always great to hear his voice. I did just that when I drove up to his funeral service following his death in February 2012. While driving up Interstate 5 and fumbling through the cassettes, I inevitably pulled out The Tape, laughed to myself, shook my head and put it back in the case. But this time, perhaps because he was now gone, I stopped before I put in another tape and starting thinking about The Tape, what it could possible say, what it could mean and why did he send it to me. So I ask him to help me solve the mysteries of The Tape.

He said, “Yes, but you do understand about my ‘condition’ don’t you?

“Your condition?”

“Yes, do you think I’m as sharp as I used to be now that I’ve been dead for several weeks?

For the next 90 minutes I listened to The Tape in its entirety. I asked him, “What language is that, I don’t understand any of it”

“Do you understand the song Nessun Dorma?” he said.

“No”

“Do you know it? Do you like it?

“Yes, I think it’s maybe the most beautiful song ever as Pavarotti sings it.”

“But you don’t understand it?”

I popped it in the car’s cassette player and spent the next 90 minutes listening to The Tape, more carefully this time, and I did hear it a bit differently; I heard more of the rhythm of the tape and . . . perhaps I picked up what might be some small clues as to where to begin my search for the translation and thus the meaning of The Tape.

Posted in Holiday observations • opinion

WHAT I WON’T DO IN 2014

December 30, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:8 Comments

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

I operate under the illusion that I am a fully functioning, rational adult. That could be the root of my problem. Here I sit, two days before the new year, convinced that 2014 is going to be a GREAT year. I’ve polled a few of my friends and their sentiment is exactly the same – they all are looking forward to 2014 with great optimism and hope. We will NOT have any of the problems we experienced in that nasty old 2013, no sir. 2014 will be perfect.

What is it about human nature that we completely suspend reality at the beginning of each year? We forget that life’s road is bumpy and that each year brings with it some amount of problems and worries. Heck, at our age, every doctor’s appointment holds the possibility of being a life-altering event. And we forget that the world around us (especially in a year with mid-term elections) can be a very hard place to find comfort and joy. So this year, in an effort to be more grounded, I am not making any resolutions that are high-minded or completely unrealistic. I’ve decided to make some resolutions of what I won’t do in the new year. Here’s a sampling:

1. I will NOT exercise every day. Every year I say I will and every year I fail. One year I made it all the way through April. That year was 1966. Ever since then I can’t even get through the month of January without sitting on my butt for hours eating Doritos and watching TV. So this year I am setting myself up for success – I vow to exercise when I feel like it. Hopefully that will be something more than once a week but I’m not making any rash promises.

2. I will NOT eat healthy every day. Although I do consume more than my fair share of kale salad and green smoothies, I hate that I feel guilty when I eat something wonderfully sugary or packed with carbs. So…in 2014 I pledge to do my best, keeping in mind that there were probably several women on the Titanic who in their last moments thought, “Damn! I should have had that chocolate cake!”

3. I will NOT get organized. This year I bought one of those P-Touch label makers. I set up a color-coded filing system and labeled every folder. Then I made labels for a bank of switches so I finally could distinguish between mood lighting, overhead beams and the window shades. Perfect. But then I took it too far – I labeled the hair dryer, the spice rack and the toaster. My husband never stayed around me long for fear he would end up with a label. So in 2014 I will not attempt to organize. Instead, I will seek professional counseling for what is obviously my OCD problem.

4. I will NOT watch Duck Dynasty, Honey Boo-Boo or Miley Cyrus. This one is pretty easy because I don’t follow those people now but since they are constantly on the news I shall vow to avert my eyes when they appear. Also, in 2014 I will not be Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Except the whole “Bruce Jenner wants to be a woman” thing. I met him once in 1977 at a cocktail party and he was the very essence of manhood and virility. So watching him get his Adam’s Apple shaved and wear women’s undergarments could hold a certain fascination that will prove irresistible.

I think these resolutions are sufficiently low. In fact, I’m feeling confident that this year I will accomplish all of my goals. Optimism runs rampant today because, like many of you, I look at January 1st as a fresh beginning. My slate wiped clean of any problems, with only great possibilities spread out before me in the coming 12 months. Today I believe that all things are possible. Today I believe that the new year will bring contentment, good times and I will finally be able to discard my “fat clothes”.

Here’s to a wonderful 2014 to us all. May your year be filled with good health, good friends and good times. And may all of your resolutions be fulfilled – no matter how low you set the bar! Happy New Year!!!!

Posted in Family

AMAZING FAMILY!

December 23, 2013By Sparrow/WatsonComments:5 Comments

Suzanne & Linda

by Bob Sparrow

Who has a better sister and wife than I do? NoooooooooBody!! At the risk of beating a dead horse, or at least an old horse, for our readers, I must revisit my 70th birthday celebration and thank a number of people who made it such an AMAZING event. My first thank you goes to my lovely wife Linda, who orchestrated a weekend of surprise after surprise. Granted when you have a husband who is totally clueless, it’s easy to pull off surprises, but nonetheless she did a masterful job – a week after the event, I still don’t suspect anything!

With the ‘Big One’ approaching, Linda asked me how I wanted to celebrate the conclusion of my 70th trip around the sun. I said I didn’t want a big party, just something with the FAMILY. That was the end of my participation. Several days later she told me that she’d booked four villas in Palm Desert at the Marriott Desert Springs, where we love spending a week every April at our timeshare. Perfect, just the kids, grandkids and us.

Cocktails at Jackalope in the desert

Late Thursday afternoon, while grubbing around in the yard, the doorbells rings, Linda asks me to get it. I come to the door in tattered jeans and dirty t-shirt; it’s my brother, Jack and wife Sharon, I greet them with the warm welcome of, “What the hell are you guys doing here?!” They responded with a Happy Birthday and that they are going to Palm Desert with us. I’m thrilled. Later that evening (I did sneak in a shower and change of clothes) the doorbell rings again and, still clueless, I go to the door and there are four couples of our good friends, Mark & Kathy, Jack & JJ, Bob & Marge and John and Judy – they’re standing at our front door singing Christmas carols that turn into Happy Birthday. When we’re all seated at the bar in our family room, Linda brings out a small box and asks me to open it. It is a brochure for a 12-day trip for two to Kathmandu, Nepal, which includes a 5-day trek through the foothills of the Himalaya! My jaw drops!!! She says, there is no way she’s going, that the trip is for my brother and me. All I can say is “AMAZING!”

Jack, Suzanne & me

By mid-day Friday we’re checking in at the Villas in Palm Desert. When we got there, there is only one villa that has been cleaned and available, so we walked over to the hotel and had some lunch at poolside in perfect weather. Upon our return I walked into the one villa we had and I see a man, with his back to us, sitting out on the deck, and assume I went into the wrong villa. Then one of my favorite people and one of the funniest I know, turns around and wishes me a Happy Birthday – it’s Matt Sparrow, my nephew – Jack’s son. Fast forward to mid-day Saturday and I get my annual birthday phone call from my sister, who always calls me and sings Happy Birthday the way Marilyn Monroe sang it to Jack Kennedy. As I’m standing there listening to her, she walks in the door – she had just flown in from Scottsdale – AMAZING! Later that afternoon close friends and ‘practically family members’, Mark, Kathy and daughter, Kristin (best friend of our daughter, Dana) arrived to celebrate the occasion.

Joe & Dana

One last surprise remained. I was told to stay in my villa as preparations for ‘the party’ Saturday evening were taking place in Joe & Dana’s villa. When I was asked to ‘come to the party’ I was blown away. Dana and Joe had decorated the villa with pictures at ‘food stations’ they’d created representing a number of the places we’ve visited, Italy (Meatballs marinara, Fried cheese, beef Carpaccio with lemon arugula), Africa (Moroccan lamb kabobs with Tzatziki sauce, veggie couscous, roasted plantains), Japan (Ahi and Yellowtail crudo, crying tiger beef skewers, garlic and chili edamame) and Hawaii (Kalua pork sliders on Hawaiian rolls, grilled pineapple, Ahi poke). All the food was AMAZING! There we also ‘drink stations’ from Ireland (beer and Irish whiskey), my Dad’s famous martinis at ‘Poppin’s Grotto’ and ‘Klappers’ (cheap rum and diet cola) named after my dearly departed best friend, Don Klapperich. The birthday cake, in a ‘travel and music’ theme had a quote from me about traveling and seeing things a little differently than most. Dana then gave me a box decorated in the ‘travel and music’ theme that she had put together, containing 70 individual birthday wishes from friends and family (you saw my sister’s in last week’s blog) – they were AMAZING! A huge thank you to those who took the time to write something nice and send it back (for some I’m certain it took quite some time to find something nice to say). Seriously, I am was touched and am blessed to have such wonderful friends.

Stephanie, Jeff & Dana

Thank you to an AMAZING FAMILY, especially those who made this an unforgettable (even for a forgetful 70 year old) experience – Stephanie, Jason, Dylan & Emma; Dana & Joe, Jeff, Jack & Sharon, Suzanne, Matt, (Mark, Kathy & Kristin) and especially to Linda whose dedication to FAMILY is unsurpassed. To quote Lou Gehrig, “I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth”.

OK, enough with the birthday stuff, I’ve got some really interesting places to take you next year – hope you’ll enjoy them vicariously ‘from a bird’s eye view’.

HOPE YOU AND YOUR FAMILY HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND AN ADVENTUROUS NEW YEAR!