Category Archives: Uncategorized

Junk, Mud and Caramel Apple Egg Rolls

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Above: Joan in Boots, 30 years after her questionable decision to say, “I Do”.  To me.

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It rained a lot in Omaha last week.  A LOT. Enough rain to turn an entire slope into a mud slide at the Omaha Zoo. It was bad enough that the zebra herd was replace with heavy earth moving machinery.  Elephants however, stuck it out.  The rain also turned parts of a lovely farm west of Omaha into a soup of mud garnished with the straw, plywood sheets and impromptu gravel which slowed, but did not stop, the faithful who came to celebrate One Man’s Junk.

 

Junkstock is billed as Three Days of Peace, Love and Junk, and like its 1970 inspiration Woodstock, it would take more than rain and mud to stop the throngs gathered to buy and sell the remnants of agraria from generations past, and the repurposed creations from artists and artisans from throughout the Midwest.  Junkstock also featured a good chunk of live hillbilly music and creative eats, although the use of psychedelics  appeared to be kept to a minimum.  After some gentle prodding, my gal (above) thought ahead and brought her boots.  While there were plenty of attendees sporting Wellingtons and other waterproof footwear, there were others whose dainty footwear will probably face a mercy killing.

 

We looked and talked a lot more than we bought, but that was the plan going in.  While there were lots of interesting creations, the best may have been the apple-filled Chinese-style egg rolls, which the server augmented with hot caramel.  My only complaint with them is that they disappeared too fast.       Peace Out.

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Positively Jackson Street.

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Ever had one of those nights out when you make all the right choices and exceed every expectation by a mile?  Me neither.  Until possibly tonight.  Joan and I are in Omaha celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary.  We’re staying near the Old Market Neighborhood downtown,  We took a total flier on a seafood restaurant called Plank Seafood and Provisions.  Normally I don’t buy seafood when I’m about as far from the ocean as you can be in North America, but tonight we took the chance.  Ordered the Blackened Catchfish Creole with Crawdads over Dirty Rice.

It was one of the Top 10 meals of my life. Maybe even top 5.  Service was great, and it did not break the bank. But things didn’t stop there.  Walking just one block away, we found this:  IMG_2500

Yes, quite possibly the only late-night Antique Store, Record Shop, Candy Store and Movie Theater in, well, anywhere.  While Joan scoped out the candy, I thumbed throw a smallish, but high quality, collection of LP’s,..and found THIS:

The Phones were a Twin Cities band I saw exactly once in the very early 1980’s.  They were the first band I’d heard played New Wave-ish covers of bands like Squeeze, Joe Jackson, Elis Costello, etc.  We had a GREAT time that night, good enough to still remember it some 35+ years later.  I had no idea they ever released a studio outtake EP of originals, and if I had the last place I’d expected to find it was in an all-night candy and antique store in Omaha, NE.  Joan, as usual, exhibited a great deal of patience with me through all of this.  When patience grew thin, I was rescued by an ice cream shop near by.

If there is a heaven, I hope it can live up to this evening.

Damn The Torpedos

Tom Petty Full Moon Magnet      Tom Petty Torpedoes MagnetTom Petty CBGB's StickerTom Petty Logo Sticker

I am in absolute shock.  Just learned the news that legendary musician Tom Petty was taken off life support about an hour ago and declared dead from cardiac arrest.  Petty was 66 years old.

Tom Petty In The Coliseum VinylTom Petty Autographs MagnetTom Petty Southern Accents In The Sunshine State Vol 1 VinylTom Petty Whisky Magnet

The first rock concert I ever attended was the Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers “Damn the Torpedos” tour in the summer of 1979 at the Met Center in Bloomington.  I later saw Petty and the Heartbreakers both open for and back Bob Dylan, while also joining the Grateful Dead at their gargantuan “Dylan and The Dead” show at the Metrodome on June 26, 1986.  The sound/acoustics at both venues was fair (Met) to extremely poor (Dome), but it really didn’t matter.  I was with good, good friends at both shows, and joy was experienced by all.

Damn Tom.  Sure wish you couldn’t have stayed longer. Right now we need more like you, not fewer.  Vegas already made this a tough day.  Paint  It Black.                                    Tom Petty Heartbreakers Sticker

Looking’ Out My Front Door #3- Muscle

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(Note: I’m far from an authority, so if you have comments, stories, corrections additions, etc. please hit “comment” below. And share this with interested friends. They and I will thank you!)

I had a couple of minutes today, and it seemed like a good time to gaze through my office front door, ford the asphalt river of Tennis Lane, and stream into the Showroom of Unbroken Dreams at Vern Eide’s Exotica College of Cool Wheels. Immediately upon entrance I knew it was going to be a “workout” of source. Today’s theme: MUSCLE. Let’s take a look.

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The minute I walked in…THE JUDGE. Actually, it’s a stock 1970 GTO cloned into a GTO Judge. I looked up the color, and found in 1969 The Judge came in Hummer Orange. It is a clone (a regular GTO with Judge paint,decals, etc.), so its possible the ’69 color could have been put on a ’70 car. Regardless it was beautiful…even with the spoiler.

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As Muscle and Color are part of our theme today, the car right next to The Judge? A beautifully restored 1972 Dodge Challenger 383 Four Barrel in lovely, shocking and scrumptious Purple Passion. Not many cars or trucks can pull off a purple exterior, but as any fan will tell you Purple Passion on a Challenger is pretty sweet. Flawless car, probably in better condition than when it rolled off the line.

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In the rear of the showroom we stick with the GM Orange theme: A 1971 Chevrolet Camaro. The color is again Hugger Orange, but again a factory color a year earlier in 1970. Whatever, the car was sharp and shiny, and just marked down to $32,000.

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Muscle strength came in many forms, and while this car is not classic American Muscle, it is a classic, and has PLENTY of muscle: A 1979 Ferrari 308 GTS. YES, other than color, this is the car made famous by actor Tom Sellack on the hit TV Series “Magnum PI”, and also driven by a scotch-swilling, DUI-eluding character played by Dean Martin and his sidekick played by Sammy Davis Jr. in the movie “Cannonball Run”. It’s not the classic Ferrari “Arrest Me Red” color, but no matter, it still looks like its going 200 kph even whenstanding still. Like I always say, if something’s good enough for Thomas Magnum and 2/5ths of the Rat Pack, that’s good enough for me.

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Finally: This is not a muscle car, unless you measure muscle by the weight of your wallet. Nothing says British Hootie-Patootie like a Rolls Royce. This unit is dated 1980. I think it is a Silver Shadow or a Silver Wraith II. If you can clarify or correct, please do by leaving a comment below. What I DO know is his one has only 33K miles and is priced below $28,000. Heck, for that money you could buy this car and hire a driver on weekends and still not spend what you’d have to do buy a new late model pickup…although I don’t recommend hauling a load of quartzite gravel in the trunk of this genteel car-about-town.

If you have additions, corrections or real-life stories of your experiences with any of these cars, please hit comment and add them. And please share this post with the beloved motor heads in your like. They’ll be glad you did.

One Person CAN Make A Difference

IMG_2426(L-R: Father Steve Miles (QC’s son), QC Miles, your author)

Last night I watched a documentary about the 50th Anniversary of the Rucker Summer Basketball League in Harlem, NYC. It was the first of the summer leagues where people from kids to NBA pros come together physically and spiritually through the game of basketball. The motto of the tournament is “Each One Teach One”, which is a great description of the mentoring process. I firmly believe there are few things more powerful in steering lives down the right path than a positive relationship with a true mentor, especially for those kids who have few if any of the family ties and creature comforts most of us enjoy.

On Labor Day I had a rare encounter with a man who has spent a lifetime as a mentor and influenced hundreds and thousands of lives in South Dakota.  Among those he influenced was my late father.  That mentor? Quentin C. Miles, age 96.

Q.C. Miles was a teacher, school superintendent and basketball coach for decades in several small school districts across South Dakota.  A decorated combat pilot in WWII, Q.C. returned to SD and became a teacher and coach.  In the early-mid 1950’s Q.C. found himself superintendent and basketball coach at tiny Gann Valley SD at a time when the nearby reservation high school at Ft. Thompson closed and sent students…and players…to Gann Valley. There was conflict, much of it racial. Some wise person once told me, in so many words, “If you want to cause trouble in a small town, mess with the school and the kids.  Parents will respond with lighted torches and cans of gas”.  The first couple of years were tough, but Q.C. soon had the team at the State “B” tournament (nothing like winning to bring people together!).   Q. C. went on to successfully coach, teach and lead at schools across East River, and became an influential legend in all matters of High School Sports.

In 1957, after four years of college sandwiched between two  years in the Army, and a year teaching in De Smet, my Dad, Mom and older brother Mike (then a toddler)  headed back to Forestburg SD to teach at the same school my parents, grandparents and many relatives had all attended.. The position paid a whopping $2,450.00 (a few hundred short of the cost of a basic ’56 Chevy).  As many did to make ends meet, my parents also raised a big bunch of chickens for eggs, a bunch of calves to finish out, and sold Dekalb Seed Corn on the side.  The superintendent who hired Dad at Forestburg? Q. C. Miles. Throughout my life I heard my Dad talk about Q. C. many, many times, and how much of a mentor and teacher Q.C. was to him while starting out in his career. A few years in, Dad was offered HIS first superintendent’s job at neighboring Artesian. Where did he go for advice? To Q. C. Miles, who said while he was sad to let such a good teacher and man go, Dad would be a fool to not take the job. That started a 30+ year career for my dad, leading small town school districts in SD and MN.  I have to believe Dad’s story was just one of hundreds influenced by Mr. Miles.

Now being on the planet for 96 years, and teaching and coaching his entire working life in SD communities, Q.C. must have come in contact with tens of thousands of students, parents and teachers.  Yet he could recount interviewing my Dad.  He asked about my Mom, and even remembered her maiden name and the names of her parents.  Q.C. told me he hoped I knew.how lucky I was to have the intelligence genes from both the Tlustos and Matthews gene pools running around in me (I told him I did).  He told me stories of my Grandpa Clarence (Dad’s dad) and his tenure on the Forestburg School Board. It was my grandpa who upon meeting Q.C. told him how unimpressed he was with him, yet after the interview told his fellow board members that “We CAN’T let this one get away”. Q. C., just like my Dad, gave a lot of the credit for his school’s successes to the quality school board members he worked with.

With decades working in all those towns with all those people, Quentin C. Miles has positively influenced countless lives and communities.  On Labor Day 2017 he touched mine, and reminded me by example that however rudderless, reckless and discouraging our times appear today, there’s living proof in Watertown, SD that one person CAN make a positive difference, if he or she is willing to put in the time and effort, and inspire individual eople to become a community.

Lookin’ Out My Front Door. Vol 2

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I work across the street from a large car dealership in Sioux Falls, SD.  The block on the left houses hundreds of late-model Hondas.  The block in front of my work window has its own lot and showroom, much smaller than Big Dad across the street, and houses a much more eccentric collection of two and four-wheel vehicles.  I ventured across the lot and entered the show room for the first time today.  Inside there were vehicles stacked front to back and side to side with only enough room between them to open a door.  Among the “weird kids” this day (a term I use with great affection and respect with both cars and human beings) were six…count ‘em, six…spotless 1970’s Pontiac Trans Am muscle cars.  Three of the five were 1979 models, each sporting the iconic “Firebird” decal. The word “Iconic” seems to fit, as it is inclusive of those who love the ‘Bird’ as the talisman of auto muscle, and those who find it quite possibly the most grotesque piece of car decoration ever.  While historically I’ve leaned closer to  the latter, time has taught me that like people, you deal with automobiles where you find them, not where you’d like them to be.

 

IMG_2387 A salesperson rushed over to me, apparently not used to having some dude walk in off the street and immediately start snapping photos. Seeing I wasn’t a disgruntled customer, a private investigator or a burglar casing the joint, he was quick to add information on the three ‘79’s.  He said one of them was originally sold in Deadwood.  I replied with the dumbest question of the day: “So Deadwood once has a Pontiac dealer?”  “Apparently”, he deadpanned.IMG_2380

IMG_2379 On the opposite side of the showroom was something, well, opposite.  Next to each othere were a 1947 and 1948 Indian motorcycles.  The salesman said what made them interesting is that while they had been completely refurbished on the inside, the outsides hadn’t been touched.  In fact, they hadn’t even been washed.  On the outside you had two dusty, slightly oily and rode hard Indians, while on the inside you had two completely refreshed bikes.  Yes, by today’s standards they are primitive (and with suicide clutches quite dangerous), they remain the real deal. More cool old stuff from lot soon. 

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Eclipse in South Dakota: Dark, Loud, Wet

Image result for naked dancers at eclipse

Fresh from a night’s dreams filled with enough coronas to fill a large Yeti cooler, eclipse followers in Sioux Falls, SD were stunned and even a bit frightened Tuesday when at the appointed hour of 1:01pm CDT the skies turned dark, winds whipped, and large booming noises preceded a biblically-sized, seemingly non-stop deluge.  Many automobiles suddenly stopped running, roadways were blocked, and leaves, branches and thoroughly confused squirrels were ripped from tree limbs.  Several of the observers fell to their knees, screaming “I told you so!”, referring to their predictions that the eclipse was actually the beginning of the Apocalypse.   Not far away, another group was observed manically laughing and dancing nude in a circle around what had been a bon fire. One rather large dancer wearing only a full-body tattoo of  the  “Keep On Truckin'” guy explained that members of the group had been planning for the End of Times for months by running credit cards up to the $25,000 limit, buying $5000 bottles of tequila, King Cab diesel dually pickups and Powerball tickets, knowing the end of the World as We Know It would make their hedonistic debts uncollectible.

Many were later observed walking around stunned and confused (and in some cases naked, cold and crying) after receiving news that what they thought was the Rapture and/or the first No Interest Or Payments For An Eternity Visa Card was actually a thunderstorm. T shirt sales, however, were said to be brisk.

Why Treatment Beats Prison, and Why A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

What a sweet surprise today.  While opening Facebook I saw the following piece from Today’s City Pages website.  For those who don’t know, City Pages is the long-time surviving and leading alternative weekly in the Twin Cities.  The young lady in the story is Jenny, who happens to be the daughter of my oldest pal Jerry.  I know he’s proud of her, as are the rest of her family and friends.  And with very good reason.

http://www.citypages.com/arts/adventures-in-recovery-jennys-journey-from-addiction-to-law-school/437706493

To me, Jenny is a wonderful example of the great things that can happen when the stigma of addiction is broken.  Addiction is not a moral failing or weakness any more than are cancer or a broken arm.  Addiction is an illness that can be cured.  It is also one of the most devastating public health crises in the country today, costing us all billions of dollars, and costing us the lives of those we love most.  It’s also overwhelmingly common, touching just about everyone in one way or another. Yet in far too many cases it is treated  either like the proverbial crazy  aunt living in the attic; hidden away, not to be talked about, and something to be feared and ashamed of.,,or as a moral failure, a lack of character, and a sin.

Full disclosure:  I’ve been in recovery a few months short of 9 years, and am currently working as an Addiction Peer Recovery Coach at Face It TOGETHER-Sioux Fall   Every day I see broken people and families devastated by addiction.  I also see these same people and families get well and live remarkable lives. Unfortunately, there are still millions who want to punish addicts instead of helping them, and jail addicts instead of getting them the help than can make them well again  Jenny is a great example of what can and does happen when we work hard and have the support of those around us. She’s already changing lives.  And she’s just getting started.

Looking’ Out My Front Door

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Our work office features a wall of windows facing west.  That wall of windows looks upon Vern Eide Honda.  More precisely, it looks upon Eide’s side lot where the wonderful odd ball vehicles reside.  Here you’ll find vintage cars, late-model high performance special edition cars…basically anything that they take in on trade that doesn’t fit nicely into the traditional “used vehicle” category.IMG_2311

Today I couldn’t help but see these three beauties.  I’ve always wondered what it would be like to own an International Scout like these two, or an International Travel All, IH’s answer to the Chevy Suburban.  Back in the day, these, and IH pickups, could be purchased at your local International Harvester Tractor dealer. Farm operators might live many miles from an actual late-model car dealer, but your home-town IH dealer let you purchase and service your tractor, corn picker, haying accessories and your truck, pickup or in these two your Cro Magnon 4 wheel drive SUV.   I’ve always figured if you owned an old Scout you’d better know how to source scare parts and possess the knowledge (and perverse joy) in constantly fixing the vehicle, which pretty much put me out of the running from the start. Yet, the dream dies hard, and the lack of all that doesn’t kill the fun of imagining one of these parked outside.

The car below (and sitting about 5 spots away from the IH’s) is an early 70’s Mercury Comet.  I don’t know the official Ford name for that paint color. Calf Scour Yellow-Green is probably most accurate, although I can imagine the difficulty of getting that one through Marketing.  I’m not your go-to classic Ford encyclopedia.  (Frankly I don’t have to be, because I have friends who know as much or more detail of anything FoMoCo this side of Dearborn).  I think I’m safe in thinking the Mercury Comet of this era is the twin of the Ford Maverick.  Two doors are neat, but I’m guessing there’s little else about this model which evoked the word “COOL” back in the day.  Regardless, I like ’em, and I had a lot of fun in Comets/Mavericks, and as a teen in the 70’s, that Comet was infinitely cooler than…walking everywhere you wanted to go.,,

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