Ron's Big Life Update - February 1998

Well, it's been a difficult week in the Gerber household. Margaret's father passed away last week, and we spent a few days in Yuma with the rest of the family. I had the chance to meet some distant members of Margaret's family, many of whom I'd never heard of. Nice people, on the whole, and some could tell a story that could make you laugh until your insides hurt. It's difficult to retell some of the stories, but two stand out in my mind, both of which were childhood games that Margaret played with her brother and sister:

• Granny. Granny is a two-player game. One player is "it", and gets to ride his (or her) bicycle in circles on the driveway. The other player is the "granny", who has to walk slowly across a diameter of the driveway without changing his (or her) speed at all. When the "granny" eventually gets run over (!), then he (she) gets to be "it" and "it" becomes the "granny". Margaret said that you'd cry only until you realized that you were now "it" and got to run over your sibling. Good lord! It's a wonder that Margaret survived childhood at all!
• Bucket-head. Also a two-player game. One person sits up in a tree with a five-gallon gas can attached to a pulley. (I think it was a bucket in the original version of the game.) The other person has to run out from the base of the tree while the tree-dweller tries to drop the gas can on him (her), then they switch. Margaret's brother can clearly recall one time when he got hit squarely on the head. In his words, "I got all dizzy and had tunnel vision, but I wouldn't let anyone tell mom because she'd make us stop playing."

The more I find out about childhood in Yuma, the less I believe in Darwinism.

I also found out about a family dog named "Dodger" that recently got run over.

Then I flew out of Denver to San Jose for a business meeting, and Margaret stayed behind to deal with family stuff. She'll be back here in about two weeks.

San Jose was rainy, to say the least. Windy and rainy still doesn't do justice. Mighty windy and mighty rainy comes close. We spent the first day and night in Santa Cruz, and stayed at this nice hotel on the beach that we like. Normally, the beach is nice and sandy, as one would expect from a beach. This time, we looked out our windows and saw driftwood - enough of it so that you could barely make out the sand underneath. Over the course of the next two days, it was windy enough so that by the time we left, the driftwood had blown inland and left the beach clean again. They estimated the winds at 50-75 MPH in the region, and the newspaper headline the day we flew out read "79,000 without power in Bay area". Oy! We had a little bit of time to kill before we were due at the airport, so we drove to a local flea market, which had unfortunately suffered lots and lots of wind damage. I felt bad for the vendors there who were fixing up their damaged booths; it's odd how I felt much more sympathy for these people than for the people whose houses were washed down the side of the cliffs. (Part of me says that if you're stupid enough to build a house on the side of a cliff, then don't kvetch when it falls down. But that's just me.)

So I got back into town over the weekend, and what should be waiting in my big pile of mail? Why, it's a invitation to purchase the bestest book in the world: "The Gerbers in America: From 1790 to 1998!" Joy joy!

"You'll go back in history and meet Gerbers like Francis, a farmer, who lived in Monroe County, Illinois in 1850." The author of the invitation, Eugene E. Gerber, "guarantees that once you've started this Gerber book, you won't want to put it down." Utterly spellbinding! "No direct genealogical connection to your family or to your ancestry is implied or intended;" I guess we're supposed to delight in the listing of our non-family namesakes. Well, at least "each heirloom quality Gerber book is handmade to order and elaborately illustrated," so that my $34.50 plus postage and handling would not be wasted if I actually cared about my namesakes. The publishers were nice enough to include a wholesome picture of three Gerber-looking people smiling at each other while flipping through a rather paltry-looking paperback book.

Compared to junk mail, I preferred the baby food jokes.

I, like a billion other people, enjoyed "Titanic". It told a nice story, and it LOOKED amazing. Unlike "Waterworld," I think the million dollars per minute was well spent.

I also saw "Fresh", a terrific movie about a 12-year-old inner city kid who's a runner for drug dealers. It came out in 1994 (or '92?), and it was excellent. It probably flew beneath the radar of Blockbuster Video, so I can't imagine anyone else has seen it.

I just found out that German pop singer Falco was killed in a car accident. 1998 stinks.

I recently picked up some good 45's, including "Right Between The Eyes" by Wax, an early recording of Nick Lowe's "Cruel To Be Kind" (later rerecorded for the hit version), an early recording of the Pretenders' "The Wait" (later rerecorded for their first album), Justine Bateman [Mallory from Family Ties] destroying "I Can't Get No Satisfaction", Barry White destroying "Louie Louie", and Laverne and Shirley singing "16 Reasons". My 45 collection wins the gold in the Special Olympics of Music.

I take a certain perverse pleasure in knowing that while El Nino beats the snot out the rest of the country, Minnesota has been dry with daytime highs in the 40's.

Finally, I recently had a dream that I'd like to share with you. I dreamt that I was back in school in Rochester, and that we were having one of the U of R's big party days. Only this one was especially sensitive to us Jews. It was "Yarmulka" day, and because it was cold outside, they were handing out free Yarmulkas With Ear Flaps. I woke up laughing.

I guess I should go home now. I'm not in a big hurry because the fridge is empty and Margaret's gone. I feel like a bachelor again, and it's no fun for a single guy to own a house.

Stay warm,
Ron "Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the Stars On 45" G