I was looking for a Father’s Day picture to put on Facebook today. The upside of cracking a rib last winter while wearing socks on carpeted stairs was pooling all my family photos into a server. Flipping through them I realized the lessons that can be found from each one.
Jim Walsh was only 57 when we lost him 22 years ago but his love of the moment, his family and a good laugh stay with us each day–and his “dad jokes” were passed down from father to father decades before that term became a household term about five years ago.
1. You’re Needed at Full Strength (No matter how tough your day)
I’ve looked at this picture a hundred times, mostly to see us kids–and to try to remember Katie’s full-sized doll’s … Read More… →
“You’ll be hit by these big waves that’ll sneak up on you.” That was what Fr. Jack Trese told us about grief at my dad’s funeral in 1997. But a week ago I got clobbered by one those waves in the form of a showtune I couldn’t stand–driving south in the middle of Ohio.
These days, my go-to stations on Sirius include “On Broadway,” “The Beatles Channel” and “The Seventies on 7,” especially on Saturdays they reply Casey Kasem’s “American Top 40” broadcasts from the same week from 1970-79. I was very excited one weekend brought back my transistor radio tied to by handlebars as I listened to WDRQ delivering my newspapers at 5:30 AM.
In addition to the Saturday Night Fever‘s stranglehold on the airwaves that spring … Read More… →
Probably midway through junior high was when I finally put some kind of tie between the size of a house and the income-level of the dad who pulled up in the driveway at dinnertime. I didn’t notice that one pal’s father was an executive at Ford and the other guy’s dad fixed transmissions (way cooler, by the way). The most awesome dads coached little league or took us to Tiger games; the coolest moms were den-mothers for the cub scouts or didn’t mind us screaming “Marco Polo” for eleven straight hours in their above-ground pool.
Clawson, Michigan remains a small town with hundreds of ranches on the 1960s “newer” north end of town and the bungalows and frame houses from the twenties when you cross Main street nearly one … Read More… →
Four years ago, my intended formula for this blog was pretty simple–pick a form of media (TV show, movie, billboard, cat footprints) and let it take you down a path or two. But the last path I took was in August, before I returned to the high school classroom for my 26th year. Being in an office setting since 2012 certainly gave me more physical and creative energy for activities like blogging as well as producing a documentary series, but it also pulled me a bit away from some basic reality-check questions that I’ve always enjoyed from teenagers–beyond “Can you give me passing grade and a pass to go home?”
The days following Election Day produced some poignant conversations for this English major turned video production teacher–with just a minor … Read More… →
Take a minute and flip through your phone’s pictures taken this Thanksgiving weekend–now zoom-in to something in the background. Do you notice anything interesting–or something that <em>might </em>be interesting in a few decades?
The new Stephen Hawking bio-pic, The Theory of Everything, can drive you a little crazy if you are one of those people who needs to straighten a picture frame in a friend’s house. Hawking’s glasses are always crooked and always needing cleaning.
The color-correction folks in film know what they’re doing when they choose their palettes. It’s hard not to get nostalgic with a shot like above–and if you add in string instruments and piano you’re already … Read More… →
Someone who knows me as well as anyone in the world–someone I’ve known since the playground–once told me he didn’t think I was someone who “had his back.” In a difficult time, I was not a guy he would turn to for help. The context of his comments is forgotten. Maybe it was just a mean thing someone says during an argument to get the last word. Maybe he was recalling a specific incident when he said it, although I can’t imagine what. The comments hit me like a jab to the temple. I believe this guy would always have my back. Whatever the context, when … Read More… →
I hadn’t seen this smile from my son in a long time…
As you might expect, we don’t dress this formally around the yard most days. It was prom night last Thursday and Aidan and his date Katie had just finished twelfth grade two days earlier. And, aside from the $200+ to rent the tux, we also got this pretty rare expression thrown in with the shiny shoes. In fact, perhaps the last time we’d seen that smile was right before Aidan started his career as a student…
From time to time, I help my cousin Brian d’Arcy James keep his website updated, and this recent post he wrote struck me as a perfect nostalgia article for “My Media Diary,” and for all those who grew up with 1960s TV (or its reruns). So am sharing it with this blog’s audience.
W. C. Fields is famously credited with this warning to all: “Never work with children or animals.”
My Uncle Brian was more specific: “Never act with a fish.”
Let me explain. My namesake and my uncle, Brian Kelly, was an actor. He was a big reason why I do what I do today. … Read More… →
Dig through your parents’ photo albums. If you’re from the Detroit area (or ever visited someone there in your childhood) there’s probably one of these shots somewhere, for example, the bear-pit where you used to be able to toss marshmallows, in the days before ursine diabetes…
My mom was there twenty-two years earlier…
The same day they were posing in front of the zoo’s signature water tower where my Uncle Larry (standing) perfected his sneer/smile to be seen fifty years later as a “Grumpa.”
And perhaps the most recognizable family photo-spot in the park…
In fact, you can Google “Detroit Zoo Fountain” and get a … Read More… →
I’ve had some pretty memorable conversations at the checkout counter at Radio Shack:
“So you need a male-to-male connector…” (I was fourteen, buying some cables for my stereo–a bit startled by this apparent pickup line.)
“Can I please have your address?” (Perhaps another line, but I was just paying cash.)
And my favorite, when I was buying a 25-foot audio cable…
“May I ask what you’ll be using this for?”
The guy was implying that purchasing an audio cable to run video through a non-gold-plated triple-insulated cable may not only ruin the quality of my picture but perhaps offset the precarious balance of the Middle East peace talks.
It’s just six minutes of random videotape from thirteen years ago as the kids decorate a Christmas tree. It’s funny what passes for nothing at the time but turns into family legend. Thanks to my kids for letting me post these brief video clips and for not minding an interview on-location a couple days ago (final clip).
The 2000 model of Abby (3) and Aidan (5) had decided it was time to add the candy canes to the tree. As a kindergartener, it was very clear to my son what the pecking order would be–and not just for tree-trimming . My daughter, in a calm “no,” simply vetoes the maneuver and moves to the front of the line when dad asks for a song.
This past Wednesday was Steven Spielberg’s birthday. I’m not gonna go on here and ramble about how this gentleman has affected my life, because I think that, for any aspiring filmmaker, that need not be explained. The guy turned 67. Sixty-seven! Yet, I stop myself from calling him old, because to have that kind of body of work at 67 is just ridiculous, even for Steven Spielberg; the kind of body of work that makes 67 continue to feel like 27. I guess a sizable bank account helps, too.
As a birthday gift to Mr. Spielberg, I thought I’d write a piece defending one of his most divisive of films: “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom”. This is one of those films that the … Read More… →
Today is my wife’s birthday and, like a true Facebook lurker, I can’t help but drift into her page and see the many greetings coming from all walks of her life. Patrice is one of those rare people whose default setting is funny, matter-of-fact, wise, generous, caring and, somehow, so modest she thinks she isn’t really any of these. Small wonder that she’s had the same girls in her scout troop for over ten years. Reading the posts of all the lives she’s touched, I’ve am impressed by how many agree with her wise husband.
Facebook has made it incredibly easy for me to be considerate. It sends me nudges about my friends’ birthdays and has moved their big days to the top-right of my … Read More… →
Perhaps Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because it’s front-loaded. All the work is done on the first day and the rest of the weekend is comprised of football, avoiding the mall and general digestion.
Throughout the late 1970s and into the early 1990s,when the above couch wasn’t full of random cousins it served as my bed. In 1984, I was a college sophomore, stressed out completely, and couldn’t wait to drive with my family five hours north to my Aunt Joan and Uncle Bill’s cottage on Oden Island, just north of Petoskey, Michigan.
It’s funny what passes for luxury when you’re a kid.
In 1973, we visited my Uncle Bob and his family in Winter Haven, Florida and I couldn’t believe they had a fountain in their backyard. Along with so many in-ground pools, lizards running all over the yards was added the magic of my grandma’s mobile home park three miles away where they actually had adult bikes with three wheels!
Moving into our new house that same summer, I was amazed to see that each of the kids’ rooms had its own color scheme of shag carpeting—pink, green, … Read More… →
The loud crack of my stapler hitting the floor startled me out of my work and re-acquainted me with my surroundings. I was in my office. It was dark out. Halloween night, 2004, a Sunday night. I had no kids and no holiday related plans. I was there on a Sunday because I had a Motion to file in the Freeman case, and with trial a week away, I had a deadline to meet. I had never been in the office that late before. My day usually ended at 5:30 pm, and if I was on the phone when the 5:30 bell … Read More… →
Some enterprising psychopath, according to my childhood’s urban legend, decided to bury a razor blade into an apple for the ultimate Halloween trick. They were the carefree days long before candy-inspections were rivaled only by airport shoe-screenings. It was a time of unlocked doors, keys in ignitions and Baby Jesuses safe in city hall nativity scenes.
And, faster than you can say tetanus shot, one hungry kid reaches into his pillow case, pulls out the booby-trapped apple and gets an instant cleft-palate. The innocence … Read More… →
College football’s Nittany Lions won a thriller this past weekend, a tight game requiring multiple overtimes. I grew up in eastern Pennsylvania, in a region teeming with Penn State grads and Nittany Lions fans, and I befriended a few of the rare ones who tolerated someone who went to Notre Dame. After the PSU game this Saturday, my Facebook page was abuzz with Penn State pride. One friend wrote simply “We are…,” to demonstrate her team-pride. Discounting the possibility her typewriter broke before she finished the phrase, and ignoring the fact the slogan just may be appropriated from another college team and … Read More… →
I learned long ago that my garage is never more organized than it is on autumn Sunday afternoons. When the Lions are on, something positive has to happen by 4 PM. So, to the embarrassment of my wife, I buried a coaxial cable under the ground and ran it to the garage so I could keep half an eye on my latest garbage-picked 32″ television while I fold paint tarps, sort screws, clean bike chains or set mousetraps.
I have been a Lions fan since the mid 1970’s. I have seen the Dallas Cowboys and 49ers go from bad, to great, to bad again, then … Read More… →
I’m pressed up against a wall, waiting. Hunting. The gun I’m holding is inches from my nose, my two hands folded as if I’m praying. My enemy, James Lyons, is around the corner, and I’m about to spring as soon as he comes into view. I’m secret agent John Lennon, and besides making the greatest music ever, I also work for the government, saving the world. Yesterday, I was Captain Kirk. I’m 12 years old at 6th grade recess, the gun is imaginary, but I did actually save the world. (Things are still going on, right? You’re welcome.)