Stuck in the ’70s — It’s About Time You Came Back!

21:17

The latest word is that Dad has had a rough few days. I’ve been here, 100 miles away, working and doing what he requested. He didn’t want us to take separate vehicles, and he didn’t want us to miss work, but said he’d reimburse either one of us for staying with him; and then he insisted we both went home. I’ve been in touch only by phone. We need to be with our Dad. Why would someone give you a hard time about that? Well … with this summer’s history, I’m sure, I have to not be at work. And, every reason legit.

Excuse me … I’m going tomorrow to be with my dad and take control. Fire me. Dad comes before anything.

Julie

15:29 Thursday September 25, 2008

E-mail to cousin Linda Fidler:

The surgery went very well. The surgeon was pleased. Mike and I had to leave him at the Arkansas Heart Hospital in Little Rock after lunchtime today (just got home) because neither one of us can really afford to miss more work. Dad was doing very well, considering what he’s been through. When we left, they were disconnecting him from some more tubes and were going to help him sit up in a chair for a few minutes. If all keeps going well, they’ll let him come home to Mountain View early in the week. I will keep you updated. And, I’ll let “Uncle Richard” know that Linda asked about him. Our dads — they definitely don’t make them like that any more, do they?

15:34

Families are to be treasured, that’s for sure.

You may have noticed I’ve been missing. Or not. I know there are a few who actually read my blog, and I appreciate you. Mostly, it’s a place where I can get off my chest what’s on my mind and what’s going on.

Got up early Tuesday and was waiting on Mike and Dad to pick me up so I could get Dad to Little Rock for his bypass surgery. We had only learned a week before, when he landed in the hospital with an irregular heartbeat (occurring off and on for at least the last 7 years) that the left main artery to his heart was 85 percent blocked. He was very lucky to be alive.

So, I awoke to find out that my Dish TV DVR was not working. The new TV season had just begun 8 hours earlier. I had favorite classics saved on the DVR. I’ve lived with TiVO at least 10 years and have been a bit disappointed in the Dish DVR, but I’m making due.

Mike and Dad pull into the driveway while I’m on the phone to “Frank” with his Indian accent. He turns me over to “Angie” who says the problem has been noted and “is being taken care of.”

Not only can I not record my shows on two different dishes, I cannot pause live television! Holy shit. I can’t back it up if I accidentally missed something. I can’t fast forward over commercials for gosh sakes!!! If Don & I want to get up and pee off the porch (OK – only one of us does that) or rush to the bathroom because your partner is busting your onions so hard you’re either gonna make it or you’d better invest in a package of Depends (OK – only one of us does that too).

Don’s perfectly fine with it. It annoys the crap out of him when I pause. When I fast forward. When I keep going back and still miss the beginning of the “now back to the program.” He’d much rather revert back to nothing but live TV and me having to sit there and keep my dang mouth closed. Who can blame him? He had turned over complete control, and now, he’s experiencing a whiff of freedom. The second I walk into the door after work, he slides the remote to me across the laminate floor. Well, the hard drive on the Dish DVR is kaput. Now I will have to wait for another one.

The main reason I’ve not been on the computer lately … my sister Sharolyn died Labor Day night. She is legally my sister-in-law. But, she’s been my sister for 35 years. She’s put up with my eldest brother, Bob, for that long. She’s guided me through boy troubles from the time I was 10 until … well, now. But, mainly, she’s been a stabilizing influence for my “hippy” brother nearly his entire life.

It’s hard enough to lose our mother. Like Dad said, “The loss of your lifetime mate is the worst possible thing that can happen.”

We kidnapped Bob and brought him down here to hillbilly central for a week. He is the third Old Fartt to my resident 2 Old Farttz. I have some video I am going to share. Brother Bob has been a drummer extraordinaire from as long as I can remember. He brought his little electric drum kit and jammed with Don & Aurby. We wish he was less than 500 miles away. Bob is going through a tough time, y’all. Please keep him in your prayers.

Mike, Dad, Bob and I all came home from Yankee land with a terrible chest cold. The day after Bob went home, Dad felt especially ill and, thank God, recognized his heart arythmia (sp). He went to the hospital. He came home for a few hours. He went to the hospital.

I got chided. At work. I got offered a part-time position due to my excessive absenteeism. I missed 6 weeks because I had to have a bone spur removed which I had acquired from working at said place of business. I used to run lots of 5Ks and never acquired such a problem. Anyhoo … then, my sister passed away. Then we all got bronchitis. Then our Dad needed open heart surgery. Shame on me.

I just talked to Nurse Bill. He is such a cool guy, taking care of Dad in our absence. And, it ends up, small world that it is … Mike has worked on Bill’s uncle’s house in Mountain View … A LOT.

So, we leave Dad in the hands of Bill. But more importantly, in the hands of Jesus. There are no coincidences. Dad was cold and pale and exactly as described beforehand by his angelic surgeon last night. Mom spoke to me, and I held onto Dad’s shoulder, acting only as the conduit, as Mom told him something known only to the two of them.

Julie
AKA
Sissypuss

I apoligize for not writing. Shit has happened like dominoes. Last time I wrote I was recovering from the foot surgery. Then, my sister died. She was not my blood sister, but she was my sister for 35 years. Shar got me through all the growing up since I was 10. She stepped in as my sis then. Well, I meant to update. She got me through three divorces. Talked me through what is right and wrong. Any way … Dad and Mike and I went up there to Illinois. Bob lost his one and only. His soulmate. She was my only sister. This cannot be true.
Now. Dad is going to have heart bypass surgery. No problem. Routine you say. Five years ago this Thanksgiving. Mom checked out. Dad has been doing all he can to stay tuned. We’ve tried to help him. Tomorrow morning I will deliver him to the hands of the surgeons. He wants to be with Mom because that is where he should be. Meanwhile, my brother lost his soul mate of 35 years, and that is wrong.
I am sorry I have not written.
Things have gotten fucked up. I have two sons, and neither one of them is here with me where I can phyically touch them. Stuff is messed up.
Jobs fell through. What’s important is about to come to the forefront.
I will keep you up to date.
Julie

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Well, summer’s winding down. For that I’m grateful. My leave of absence is almost over. For that, I’m not.

It’s hard to believe how quickly six weeks off work goes, especially if you don’t have a screaming, pooping, barfing newborn to take care of.

The first couple weeks after surgery kind of sucked. I was sort of hoping for an extended vacation, as it were. But what I got instead was a lot of pain and the inability to do for myself. Thankfully, it got better.

What have I done over this past month and a half? Let me try to recall …

There was plenty of TV and DVD watching, computer playing and book reading. There were also the days completely wasted (maybe not, when it comes to my sanity), lying around with the cats and sleeping while it rained. There were two or three trips back and forth to Memphis to shuttle No. 2 son; and the times I spent with my best girlfriend, watching ghost-hunting shows, talking politics and eating excessively.

I mustn’t forget a couple jaunts to spend the day with Dad. And the times Old Fartt #2 joined us for some pickin’ and grinnin’ and big breakfasts. There was a hot day in the shade on the banks of the rapidly flowing Spring River. And, most recently, there was the trip down said river in a blow-up boat.

Sooner than I’d like, I’ll be reporting for duty at the kitchen design desk of your local home improvement center. Back to the day in, day out … some rude and irate customers, a handful of rumor mongering co-workers and backstabbers, aching bones and feet and taxes. In the middle of that, it’s when I’ll remember lying in bed at 11 in the morning, reading about sexy vampires and listening to Diablo’s soft purr.

The things I thought I’d accomplish didn’t quite get finished — although there’s still a day or two for that; and I’ll have some days off from work coming. The house is a little less messy, and that’s what matters, I guess.

I took some pictures and some video along the way, most of it – no, probably all of it – not really worth looking at. But it’s fun just the same. Below is a 1 minute, 45 second sample of “How I Spent My Summer Vacation.”

My brother, my sweet baboo and I had gone to the outfitters to take a raft ride down the river. It was 1 in the afternoon. We arrived too late, so we scheduled for the next morning. We didn’t realize we’d be spending 5 hours in the unforgiving sunshine, fighting for our lives over some falls, dodging snakes and turtles and running out of beer a quarter of the way through.

Anyhoo … this video is from the day before the raft trip. I didn’t dare take my video camera along on that, and it’s a good thing, too (saving it for another blog entry). We had just been turned down for the Saturday float and decided to stop at a drive-in fast food chain for a bite to eat before heading back to the motel.

This is what we encountered.

Well, I’m off to tackle the grocery shopping.

Stay cool,
Julie
12:42 p.m. 8/25/08

When my dad first met my mom he knew her as Sunny.

Anyone who’s ever met my mom knows she exuded optimism, joy and happiness. She earned the nickname while working at the five and dime and was a fountain girl before my dad saw her in the window working on her latest job, as window display designer.

Aug. 13 Mom would be 80. This Thanksgiving she will have been physically gone for 5 years. Hard to believe … because Mom is here with me every day.

I smell her, I feel her, see her, and hear her daily.

While recuperating these past few weeks, I figured out some computer stuff and waded through some early family movies.

I knew what we had was something rare to be treasured. I realized I lived a “Wonder Years” existence. But, now, in going through these old films, I’ve realized what brilliant people my parents really are.

Dad worked with a hand-me-down 8mm camera (not Super 8 with sound), and Mom worked with, well, her God-given talents.

My plan is/was to come up with a Fidler Family video to give everyone at Christmas on DVD, complete with chapter selections and extras, perhaps some narration.

What’s amazing is how little editing is required. My dad shot all this with the cuts in his head, conserving film and developing costs, physically cranking the camera between takes, and I guess, asking or telling my mother what he would like her to do.

Then there’s my Mom, always acknowledging the camera — and then ignoring it.

Pure brilliance.

So, I’ve edited this down to 3 ½ minutes, and it’s all their doing.

Happy birthday Mom.
I love you.
Sis

Well, I had a bad few days there, but all is well now.

While recuperating from surgery, there’s not a whole lot one can do — except turn into Jack Nicholson from “The Shining.” So, I’ve parked my ass in front of the television A LOT.

Seeing all this hullabaloo about the Beijing Olympics (testing for steroids, testing to make sure competitors are the gender they say they are, pollution in China, the 41-year-old swimming mom whose coach has fallen ill) makes me long for “The Battle of the Network Stars.”

Now, THERE’S sports worth watching. Celebrity T&A (and D).

CBS’ Tom Selleck in a Speedo atop the starting block at the pool; Richard Hatch (the REAL one, from ABC’s “Streets of San Francisco” — not the fat, naked gay guy from “Survivor”) sweating in his blue Addidas shorts, thigh muscles rippling in the relay race; Leif Garrett looking tossled after jumping the hurdles; and yes, Farrah’s hair staying gorgeous in the tug of war even while she’s wearing white knee socks with a couple of blue stripes at the top (where ARE the young chicks finding those now?).

But, probably the episode most of us remember is when Robert Conrad threw a hissy fit. I couldn’t stand that guy. I hated his commercials. “Knock this battery off my shoulder. I dare ya!”

I’ll knock yer head off yer @!#*! shoulders, ya frickin’ !@#&*!

The situation was the relay race. ABC’s team captain was Mr. Kotter, Gabe Kaplan. The team included actors from “Happy Days,” “Laverne & Shirley,” “Streets of San Francisco,” and “Charlie’s Angels.” Conrad was on NBC’s team. Shoot, the only things I watched on NBC were “CHiPs” (LOVED to watch Erik Estrada on “Battle of the Network Stars” — be still my heart) and “Saturday Night Live.” “Kojak’s” Smelly Savalas was the captain for CBS. That team included, hell, I don’t know — who else was there but Thomas?

I found a clip of this on You Tube, of course. It starts off with ol’ cigarette-puffin’, shades-wearin’ baldy Smelly Savalas talking to Howard “Get this thing off my head” Cosell. It’s about 9 minutes long, but definitely worth a peek. By the way, I still have my huge poster of Selleck in his Speedo on the starting block plastered to our bedroom wall. Don isn’t offended because he thinks it’s one of the Scrubbing Bubbles.

Conrad Vs. Kaplan

Put this URL in your Browser and smoke it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqWU9huMMco

Meanwhile, back at the ranch …

I finally got a video of Don & his buddy approved for upload. Well, sorta. I showed it to them, and they both liked it, but they want to do it again — the right way. Don told Old Fartt #2, “It’s more of a showcase of Julie’s talents than ours.”

As I showed it to them, I couldn’t argue with that, and I take absolutely no offense. My role is writer, director, videographer, film editor, sound engineer, producer and fan base. They’re “the talent.” (more demanding than the Monkees for gosh sakes)

So … they are in the process of honing their skills. I’ve provided them with a Large Print copy of the lyrics, and the 2 Old Farttz are gonna “do it right” for the second version of this video. I’m allowed to present it here so long as I let the viewers/readers/public/world know, “It gets a WHOLE lot better than this.”

OK. That being said, check out this video from an impromptu jam session in our living room a week ago tonight. Let me know what you think.

2 Old Farttz Jam

I can’t seem to get the videos to embed, so copy and paste this address into another tab on your browser, and enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_TqcKhqJO4

It’s 104 on the porch.
Stay cool,
Julie
12:10 p.m. 8/1/08

Howdy there!

Just a quickie this morning. I failed to do my chores yesterday, and I am now beating myself up for that. So, I’m writing just this little bit about what I forgot to write yesterday, and then, if I behave, I’ll get to sit down at the computer and have some more fun. (@!#*! laundry, dishes, litter box, sweeping, cleaning bulls–t!)

I’m having so much fun with this gadget I bought last year and finally got to work the other day. I’m going through the old Fidler family home movies (8mm, no sound, mostly in color). I’ve posted one three and a half minute clip on You Tube and Stuck in the ’70s. I’m also learning about vlogging (video blogging), and that may be something I can add to the site soon, depending on how enthusiastic I get. I’ll get those stitches out of my right heel this afternoon.

Check it out on You Tube, and let me know what you think.

I’m working on a documentary of Don & his friend of 50 years, Aurby. They’ve been playing music together for a long time. I’m dying to put a clip of them performing the Taj Mahal version of “Giant Step” on this blog, but the old man’s got to approve any visual stuff I put of him on here (something to do with not wanting to be embarrassed worldwide or some crap like that). So, when one gets the stamp of approval, I’ll let ‘er rip!!

OK, rackin’ frackin’ housework ….

Julie
09:20 a.m. CDT 7/29/08
94 degrees on the front porch

“I’m practically an Osmond.” I tend to say that a lot.

And I am — except, of course, for the cigarettes, alcohol, caffeine, shacking up, cursing … Those Osmonds have got to stop that kind of nonsense!

As I write this, I’m watching the DVD “The Osmonds Live in Las Vegas: 50th Anniversary Reunion Concert.” We watched it on PBS a few months ago, but I had to see it again.

Before Don & I watched it on telly, he found it baffling, my obsession with the Osmonds — Donny in particular. He said it was a freaky, devotional almost religion. He was right, and he understood it more clearly after watching the Os’s on their reunion show.

Don (I’m dying to call him “Donny”) would never tell anyone this (so I will), but he is now able to name each of the brothers when he sees pictures or footage of them. Don’t tell that you got that here or I’ll never hear the end of it.

Anyhoo, I don’t really have a point. Just that the Osmonds have always been awesome, and their fans understand what it’s like to live with this affliction.

Well, I get the stitches out of the foot tomorrow. That’ll be cool. I haven’t been able to drive or walk around Wally World in two weeks. I’m looking forward to getting in the lake or spring. I don’t even have a summer tan yet. Lord knows, it’s way past time to work on the ol’ skin cancer.

I have been updating my Web site while on hiatus, and today I’ll be adding some links and suggestions from those of you who have e-mailed me. I’m also trying to find my CD-R with the close-up pix I took at the Rick Springfield concert a few years back in Tunica, MS., when he walked across the arms of our seats and sweated right on my friend Cheryl and me and in her big-ass beer. Yeah, baby. Rick’s new CD, “Venus in Overdrive,” comes out tomorrow, and he’s been all over the morning shows, promoting it. I’ve only heard the single “What’s Victoria’s Secret” once, but I can’t say I grew to dig it. I’ll have to give it another listen.

It’s 96 on the front porch.
Y’all stay cool!
Julie

I’m sitting up and taking nourishment. That’s what they say in the south when you’re recuperating. I’ve been “all stove up.” They also say that.

Don had brain surgery a year and a half ago and walked it off the next day with a small incision on his inner thigh. My heel looks like a segment of baseball, all stitched up.

He’s done well, putting up with the whining, although I don’t think I’ve done all that much of that. And, I think I’m starting to kick into the less whining, more action phase. I can now sit up at the computer without my foot turning into a football. So, I’m looking forward to working on the site. I’ve gotten a bunch of great suggestions over the past few months, and I intend to expand on them. However, I am using playing with my Web site as a personal reward for accomplishing things around the house.

The day before yesterday, I was able to lean on the kitchen counter, putting the weight on my left foot, whilst cleaning the countertops and sink. Yesterday, I tidied up my computer area and the front room around the sitting area. I want to get the whole house tidied, bit by bit, over the next few weeks as I’m able.

While I’ve been unable to sit up at the computer and type in my blog, I’ve been writing in a good, old-fashioned journal like those I had when I was a teen. You know … the bound, hardback, blank-paged, lined books? It’s been fun. And none of it is going on the Internet. But it sure does make me hope that I can find those diaries from the 1980s. I have in my sight the ones from the 1990s, but the ’80s are in a separate suitcase somewhere on this half-acre (if that) tract.

One site visitor sent me an e-mail yesterday telling me that the scuttlebutt is the next “American Girl” movie will be made about Julie, the ’70s chick. Now, that would be cool. Don suggested I get onto Variety.com. Those people will surely need a consultant.

I’ve been observing the cats while I’ve been home the past week. They mostly sleep, of couse. But, in the evenings, they get “the run arounds.” And, they have an established routine, apparently based on what Don & I do that week. They adapt to the changing work schedules, and they know when to tell us to give them a damn can of cat food.

The day of the surgery (as it shall from here on out be known), Don mowed the grass while I was resting. I thought I could get the cane and make my way out on the porch to visit when he got done and enjoy Tiki Time. Well, it would have liked to have killed me (they say that in the south too) to get out to the porch in the first place. When I got out there, I had a helluva time getting set (?) down, and then I tried to prop my foot up on the porch railing between Tikis. It was frickin’ hot out there. Scully came up to say “Howdy.” Don turned off the mower and asked what the hell I was thinking, what with my severe allergies to cut grass and propensity to faint in the heat (oh my, I’ve got the vapors!). So, I got my ass up and went back to the couch.

That was the last time I saw Scully. It was a Tuesday. I talked to my brother, Mike, on the phone after that, and he had said he’d like to come over Saturday and bring a Creeple Peeple set he’d won on E-bay. Because I couldn’t get up and about, he thought that would be a fun way to spend an afternoon — making Creepy Crawlers in the ol’ Mattel Thingmaker. The only better way to spend an afternoon with my brother is to drag out the Charlie Brown coloring books and the box of 64 Crayolas, along with one of those white eraser pencils with a brush on its ass, some White Out and a black Bic ink pen. We’d be changing Linus into Boy George and Charlie Brown into ET the Extraterrestrial.

I told Mike I knew exactly where the Thingmaker and molds he gave me one Christmas long ago were, along with the new Thingmaker for sissies and all the new Goop I’d gotten from Toys R Us. It’s always been in the new Thingmaker box in Vincent’s closet. We’d play with it some, then neatly put it all back in the closet with the rest of the favorite games like Life, Clue and Monopoly. Well, it wasn’t there Saturday. I told Mike, if it wasn’t there, it’s possible one of the boys put it in the “wood shed.” No one can find anything in the wood shed. Mike decided he wanted to try to scan the refuse.

As he was turning the key in the door latch of the wood shed, he heard a faint “meow.” He got the door open, and lo and behold, it was Scully. She’d been in there at least 96 hours. The actual temperature outside was 100 degrees. Inside that shed, with no open window or ventilation, who knows? I have no moral for this story, boys and girls. All I know is, 3 years ago, I had 9 cats. Now, I have 3. Of course, 2 of them are with my sons. So, between us, we still have the 5. But, I’ve lost four cats in three years. Kinda sucks. So, there’s much rejoicing in Scully’s Survivorcat episode. Above is a pic of her taken last month (by me).

Well, I’d better quit here. I’ve got more things I need to do on the computer before Don gets off work. And, I’m going to try to get into the kitchen, lean on the fridge and make some enchiladas.

I’ll plan to be back tomorrow and every day, working on Stuck in the ’70s to give you a place to keep coming back to. I’m looking forward to getting those videos from the home movies in the ’70s on here for ya.

Later,
Julie
15:11 CDT 07/22/08

Don’s been playin’ his guitar a lot lately, and singin’. The other night, he asked me to look up the lyrics to a song called “Take a Giant Step.” I said, “By the Monkees?”

He said, “No. It’s not Monkees,” and he gave me a look like “Get real.”

I knew it must be Monkees. I didn’t want to ruin what might be construed a romantic moment by one who isn’t inherently romantic. So, I Googled this dude who calls himself Taj Mahal and “Giant Step.” Sure enough. I printed out the lyrics and chords. I didn’t want to argue because Don had told me he wanted to play me this song that reminded him of me.

He played this cool blues/country type thing. The words were the Monkees by Boyce and Hart, written for a television show in 1967. However … I own the Monkees box set and all of the albums. I’ve had the original albums autographed by Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz in person. I want a tattoo of the Monkees guitar logo on my ankle. I knew it was a Monkees tune. The cool thing was Don had thought of a song that made him think of me. He was going to sing it to me and play the guitar.

He struck it up, and it was the first time I’d ever really heard the lyrics. It spoke to me. Don spoke to me. He thought of this song about a woman who couldn’t leave yesterday behind. It was about a man who wanted to take his woman’s hand and help her relieve herself of the worries of today.

My man sings like John Prine. Sorta. He sounds better to me. He has a funny southern accent. He was playing his guitar and singing to me a song that I was so familiar with but that I had never actually “heard.”

Look at these lyrics again, faithful reader, and download Taj Mahal’s version off Limewire. I think you’ll hear it for the first time too.

Taj Mahal
Take A Giant Step

All rights to lyrics included on these pages belong to the artists and authors of the works.
All lyrics, photographs, soundclips and other material on this website may only be used for private study, scholarship or research.

Though you played at love and lost
And sorrow’s turned your heart to frost
I will melt your heart again
Remember the feeling as a child
When you woke up and morning smiled

It’s time, it’s time, it’s time you felt like that again
There is just no percentage in remembering the past
It’s time you learned to live again and love at last
Come with me, leave your yesterday, your yesterday behind
And take a giant step outside your mind

You stare at me with disbelief
You say for you there’s no relief
But girl, I swear it won’t do you no harm

Don’t sit there in your lonely room
Just looking back inside that gloom
Mama, that’s not were you belong
Come with me, I’ll take you where the taste of life is green
N’ Everyday everyday hold on woman just got to be seen

Come with me leave, your yesterday, your yesterday behind
And take a giant step outside your mind
Though you failed at love and lost
And sorrow’s turned your heart to frost
I will mend your heart again
Remember the feeling as a child
When you woke up and morning smiled

It’s time, it’s time its time you felt like that again
There is just no percentage in remembering the past
It’s time you learned to live again and love at last
Come with me leave your yesterday your yesterday behind
And take a giant step outside your mind

Stay cool,
Julie
10:30 p.m. 7/14/08