Dave's Blog

Leaders

Anyone see this article in today's New York Times?:

Cheerleaders Article

The gist of it is that ex-college cheerleaders make good drug salespeople for the pharmaceutical companies. "Exaggerated motions, exaggerated smiles, exaggerated enthusiasm - they learn those things, and they can get people to do what they want," says Lynn Williamson, an advisor at the University of Kentucky.

A couple of years ago, I was interviewed for a cheerleading magazine (someone must have spotted me in my full purple and gold Minnesota Vikings body paint get-up), and was also asked if Magnetic Poetry wanted to be an advertisor or even sponsor some cheerleading events. "Cheerleaders are the leaders of the future," enthused the sales rep from the magazine. I had trouble taking her seriously.

Now, however, it's becoming clear how right she was. I think of all the cheerleaders I've known, and all of them are quite successful (hey, come to think of it, my sister, Becky, was a cheerleader). Why, even our current President of the United States was a dang cheerleader!

That's okay, that's alright, c'mon, 'raquis, Fight, Fight, Fight!

bam!

Winter hit all-of-a-sudden-like this year; sunny and fifty one day, snow falling the next, single degree temps the day after that. And the next, today, November 17th, looks like the day Lake of the Isles will freeze over. I got out of my car to shoot these mallards (with my camera, folks), and after they swam away, with all their muttering and quacking, I noticed something spine-tingling. The ice is so thin that the water's waves are flexing it, continuing their journeys right through it and-- here's the cool part-- making it sing like a million crickets. No kidding, it sounds almost exactly like a warm summer night next to a prairie meadow!

Pugsley says, Bring on the snow!

Those of you who've read some of my earlier posts may remember my pledge to buy a Surley Pugsley, the world's fattest-tired mountain bike, as soon a they became available. Well here he is, in all his shiny purple splendor, number 42 off the production line! The young rider pictured here rode moments later into the beach volleyball pit and floated easy figure eights over loose sand, leaving a pattern of 4" wide yet barely 1/4" deep tire prints that must have perplexed park strollers after we left ("...did someone ride a dirt bike in here? If so, they certainly rode gently...).

I had a tough time getting a turn from these little bullies, but when I did, man, what a sensation! You find yourself seeking out sketchy stuff like beach sand, loose gravel, eroded dirt gullies, leaf piles... anything that would cause a regular bike tire to wobble and wander, this baby rolls obliviously right on over. It makes you feel like a NFL short yardage running back: big, hard-headed, light-footed, and practically unstoppable!

C'mon snow... please, snow, please, please, please snow...

We Are Family

This is my sister, Becky. She's two years younger than me, yet inexplicably, more mature, organized and resposible, which is pretty much why I hired (she'd say "pleaded for") her back in 1996. She came to us from the restaurant business... alright, she worked at a pizza joint in Portland, Oregon called Escape From New York, and was, shall we say, under utilized. Her title here is Vice President/Director of Sales, which only hints at the fact that she pretty much runs the show and does a great job of it.

What can you objectively say about your own sibling? First, you sigh and roll your eyes... Oh, how about something embarrassing! Like for instance, when she was little, her dream was to live in a VW van with a pet chimp and sell hamburgers. So I guess in that regard she's a total failure. She does, however, own a Chevy van, and has two (not so) little monkeys named Sam and Maddy, and I imagine she makes hamburgers every now and then. So her life has not been a complete disappointment.

Becky's husband, Schell, is a very interesting guy, a dad/artist/animator/craftsman/athlete/storyteller/cowboy/intellectual that I will definitely profile here sometime in the future. Sam (13) is a long-haired, brace-faced shredding guitar player in a band called Ritalin, and Madeleine (11) is a fiddler with an amazing talent for voice impersonations.

Lastly, no matter what she says, Becky is NOT taller than me.

Sleigh Sighting

I saw Santa today, driving in his big red van over by Surdyk's! He waved at me, as if to say "I see you when you're sleeping, I know when you're awake, I know when you are stressing out, so relax, for goodness sake!" Santa is a busy man right now, as the clutter on his dashboard indicates, but I'm here to report that he looks very jolly, merry even. So, as we enter this season of familial obligation, commercial exploitation and impossible expectation, take a cue from the big man and take it easy on yourself; it's your van, if you will, and you can clean it out later if you want... or not. Ho, ho, ho!

The Elm and The Fox

I saw two unusual things on my way to work today. First, a street (42nd, just north of the Riverview Theater) still lined with old elms. I remember as a child noticing the cathedral ceiling effect seemingly everywhere when we came to visit relatives in the city. Seeing it again-- in gold!-- this morning, for one last time (they are all doomed to Dutch Elm disease... notice the orange spray painted trunks) really made me sad.

But minutes later, camera still sitting out on the front passenger seat, I saw this fox trotting along the railroad tracks that run just behind the Banks Building (where Magpo is located). Now, here is an urban species that, like the White Tail Deer and Canadian Goose, seems to be flourishing; I've seen about a fox a month in various city locales over the last couple of years, yet never saw one as a child growing up in the woods of Mahtomedi. My wife just happened upon a whole litter of kits gamboling about in the park across the street from our house. My theory is that a wider variety of berry and nut-bearing tree species like buckthorn, oak, walnut and buckeye has led to more squirrels, which are food for foxes. As are, I suppose, Canadian Geese...

Interesting to see big trends, the common becoming rare and the rare common, over spans of time; one of the benefits of getting old, I suppose! Here's another theory/prediction: the common-to-rare thing is eventually going to happen with cars.