Dave's (Almost) a Killer!

Yesterday afternoon, my wife and I were driving back from lunch at the Ugly Dumpling-- we were off from school for Yom Kippur-- and I made a left turn off Route 27 onto Fifth Avenue and then noticed flashing red lights in my rearview mirror . . . it was a cop, so I pulled over and Catherine got my insurance and registration out of the glove box and I made sure my teacher ID was hanging prominently from the rearview mirror-- and I was going to look for my PBA card in my wallet but I didn't bother because I was certain that I hadn't done anything wrong-- you can't make a left on Route 27 from 4 PM to 6 PM-- I've been busted for that-- but this time, I hadn't committed a moving violation-- and I commit A LOT of moving violations: I run red lights, make illegal u-turns, turn left-on-red at this particular light for morning basketball, speed on certain roads, change lanes without using my blinkers, use my phone while driving, etcetera . . . but this particular time, I had truly done nothing . . . this time I was innocent . . . and it took the cop a couple moments before he got out and approached us-- and he walked up to the passenger side and said, "Sorry, the computer got your plate wrong, it read a six instead of a nine . . . and you're one digit away from someone we're looking for who did something really serious . . . take it easy and have a nice day" so he was obviously using an ALPR to look for a BOLO, which is the kind of terminology you've got to know if you're almost a wanted felon, but for you law-abiding citizens, that means the cop was using an Automatic License Plate Reader-- which is a high-speed, computer-controlled camera that uses optical character recognition to read license plates. and alert officers when a car is on the "be on the lookout" list and now that I know I'm one digit away from armed and dangerous, I probably need to drive a bit more carefully (plus, I'm using quite a bit of tape to hold various parts of my vehicle together).

Dave's Classroom is Full of Hot Air (and Wasps)

At school on Tuesday, I noticed that although my portable A/C unit was running and though it was kicking out some cool air, my room was still uncomfortably hot and humid and I was NOT happy about this-- I played 6:30 AM basketball that morning and even though I showered, I was starting to sweat again-- and what really bothered me was that this little A/C unit had managed to cool the room down during the REALLY hot days last week-- so what he fuck was going on?-- and then, to add insult to injury, the last period of the day, large wasps started invading my room-- I climbed up on the window ledge and killed one by swatting it with a folder and the kids applauded, as they always do, but then two more wasps showed up and I had to climb up on the ledge AGAIN and kill them-- one wasp perched on a window frame behind the blind and I just whacked the blind with my folder, which decapitated the wasp, and I was able to kill the other one when it landed on a light fixture, but this was getting old-- I had to teach some college essay stuff that the kids actually needed to know-- but after I killed the third wasp, from my unusual perspective above the A/C unit, I noticed the duct that kicked out the hot air that the unit produced (that's the 2nd law of thermodynamics, perhaps?) had disconnected from the window seal, so the hot air that was supposed to vent outside was instead being blown back into my room-- mystery solved!-- that's what was causing the room to be so hot-- despite the fact that the A/C was running an producing cold air . . . because it was producing a greater amount of hot air, but that air was supposed to be vented outthe window, where it could contribute to global warming; I was annoyed that I didn't notice this earlier-- but when you're simultaneously teaching and killing wasps, it's hard to focus on other things-- and to this point, earlier in the day, none of us noticed a giant pile of broken safety glass in the corner of the English Office, scattered on the floor and low shelf-- perhaps this was a glass from a refrigerator shelf, from one of the confiscated refrigerators? who knows?-- we told the main office and went on with the day; anyway, I brought in some duct tape and sealed the vents permanently so that this won't happen again and I'm hoping that the open vent hole was how the wasps entered my room (but I doubt it).

The Attitudes About Toes, They Are a Changin'

On the mornings when I play sports before school, I often wear sandals while I teach; it's faster and easier for me to put on sandals when I'm soaking wet-- just out of the shower-- trying to dry off and change into school clothes in the crowded coach's room and rush to first period . . . so yesterday after basketball, I wore my gray Chaco sandals with a pair of gray cargo pants and a black UnderArmour golf shirt-- pretty sharp, I thought-- and I apologized to my first-period class about my exposed toes and explained the situation-- very little time to shower, the difficulty of putting socks on when it's humid, time constraints, the desire to shed heat through my feet-- but to their credit, the students were oddly unfazed: usually the first time I wear sandals in class the kids give me some flak, but this time a girl simply said, "You English teachers always have your toes out," which struck me as peculiar, so I did some further investigation-- both around the school and on the internet-- and it turns out that high school kids think it's weird to reveal their toes in school-- they don't wear strappy sandals or heels or athletic slides or Jesus sandals or flip-flops-- in fact, they're so self-conscious about their feet and toes that they even wear socks even when they are sporting Crocs-- which I find nuts-- and at this point the student body seems to be used to the English department baring it all (below the ankle) as a matter of course (and I think they categorize us as "a bunch of hippies").

I Did Box Some People Out . . .

Tuesday morning I couldn't miss, but this morning I had a terrible day shooting from outside the arc at 6:30 AM basketball, but I redeemed myself with some rockstar teaching-- or perhaps alt-country star teaching-- as I played a rousing rendition of Lyle Lovett's song "Church" to my brand new senior special topics English class, "Music and the Arts"-- and then sent them on their way, as we had another half-day because of the heat, a wonderful way to start the week.

Good Stuff

I took a bike ride this morning, and the New Brunswick entrance to the tow path (the Delaware and Raritan Canal State Park Trail) is now refurbished and open (and the trail itself is smoothly paved for miles and miles) and I just walked down to Donaldson Park and the basketball courts are almost finished-- they are putting the final asphalt down and painting the lines of the lane, foul line, and key; and they are installing the tennis and pickle-ball nets on the new courts by the entrance to Donaldson-- so pretty sweet, a lot of local improvements near my house . . . just in time for the cool dry fall weather.

No Laughing Today

Rainy day yesterday, so I went with my wife to a kickboxing class at Y-- and while I must admit, the class was entertaining and went by fairly quickly (generally, in an exercise class, I feel very claustrophobic-- like a caged animal-- I don't like people telling me what to do, confined spaces, following directions, and exercising when there isn't a ball or weights involved . . . I've done a couple yoga classes with my wife and I really had a hard time, both mentally and physically-- I just wanted to get the fuck out of there and play some basketball) and the guy who taught this kickboxing class really mixed things up-- we used the step and swung iron rods and punched with weights and all kinds of stuff, and while I had fun, I woke up this morning with very sore abs-- apparently I've got to push it more when I do my core on my own (or go to more of these stupid classes where they tell you what to do).

The Beach: Last Person Standing Wins

Yesterday, after fighting through some serious Parkway traffic, we got down to Sea Isle, ate lunch at Mike's Dock, unpacked, and headed to the courts the play basketball . . . and despite the height advantage, the old folks (me, my brother, and Nick) beat Alex, Ian, and James . . . then the old folks beat some randoms, then we played fours, then Ian almost puked his hot dog and headed home with James and on the way he crashed on his bike, spraining his ankle and gouging his leg with the big gear ring, so Ian was laid up, meanwhile, I hurt my shoulder in the last game of basketball and I've rubbed the skin raw on the inside of my pinky toe and have to keep an earplug between my toes to prevent bleeding, and Alex has a terrible ingrown nail on his big toe and Marc's knees were too sore from basketball to play pickleball this morning (but I went, despite my shoulder) and Cat managed a four mile beach run despite the neuroma on her foot . . . and that was just day one!

Ball DOES Lie (and Scalding Water Often Burns the Innocent)

I finally finished 1215: The Year of Magna Carta by Danny Danziger and John Gillingham . . . it took me quite a while because much of the book is dense and boring-- but there's enough interesting stuff about all King John's various fuck-ups that forced him to sign the Magna Carta to appease a bunch of rebellious barons and enough about the daily life and times of people of that day and age which will still resonate-- and the Magna Carta, despite falling out of favor fairly quickly, became a very important historical document which had great influence on the political landscape hundreds of years later . . . I'll try to give the book some justice in an episode of We Defy Augury and one parallel between 1215 and today I'd like to flesh out is the connection between the medieval trial by ordeal (when you burn yourself with water or iron and then if it heals very quickly, God has shown that you are innocent) and trial by battle (used when there was a crime in the absence of witnesses or a confession-- and you could choose a champion to fight for your innocence) and the idea of "ball don't lie" in pick-up basketball-- when there is a disputed call and you choose a champion to "shoot for it" and take a three-pointer to determine who gets the call . . . this modern sporting method of determining the outcome makes about as much sense as relying on God to protect the innocent from burning iron, but it is quick and effective-- much faster than what the Magna Carta promises-- trial by jury, which might be more fair but is a time-consuming pain-in-the-ass . . . and the same in pick-up basketball-- if disputed calls were actually sorted out by all those involved (and bystanders) the game would be interminably slow . . . so the use of medieval logic speeds things along-- the origin of the phrase (according to the internet) is that Rasheed Wallace would yell this after he was called for a foul, while the fouled the player taking the foul shots-- and if the player missed, then Wallace did NOT actually commit a foul-- and this is some insane reverse-cause-and-effect and the ball lies all the time-- it bounces and caroms and deflects and players miss free-throws because they've just gotten hammered, because they lose concentration, or because they are bad at free throws-- despite being fouled all the time (Shaq!) and so while we might know the logical way to figure something out, the medieval way is often more satisfying.

Almost Therapeutic

After some three-on-three basketball this morning, my calves and back were pretty tight, so I told my acupuncturist to go to town on them-- and while there was a bit of pain right when she poked the needles in, then the muscles started to loosen up-- and after lying there in the liminal sleep state for twenty-five minutes, I felt much more relaxed . . . until I went into the parking lot and saw that the fucker that parked next to me wedged his car so close to my driver side door that I couldn't my door more than an inch or so-- I had to get into my car on the passenger side and climb over the middle console like some kind of middle-aged gymnast vaulting the ol' pommel horse (I'm not sure if that's what gymnasts do but I don't feel like googling it).

Potpourri

I went to acupuncture Thursday (because I'm a very lucky dad . . . my kids have gotten into the pick-up basketball scene and I'm just good enough to play with them-- I've got to take advantage while I still can, but it's slowly killing me and acupuncture helps to loosen up my back and calves . . . I played for two hours with them this morning and then I planted a shrub on the side of our house . . . a yew, which is supposed to thrive in the shade-- I built a really nice bed with all the stones I've filched from the park and a bunch of topsoil that got dumped by accident in a friend's rental property driveway-- trapping a car in the driveway-- and the police say there's nothing they can do so my friend who owns the property is telling everyone to take the free soil-- and I only live two blocks away, so I've taken six or seven wheelbarrow loads of dirt from the pile-- which has not put a dent in it) and I was hoping to just lie there and relax while Dana stuck some needles in my sore spots-- but Dana is a talker and she had a lot to say-- which is coincidentally and ironically related to my new podcast episode-- there was a horrendous car accident at the edge of town two weeks ago-- my wife saw the wreckage on her way back from Costco-- and it turns out the accident was right in front of the acupuncture office and Dana was right in the midst of the accident, pulling bodies from a car and trying to administer CPR and getting one of the license plates of the two cars that were racing, at 85 MPH in a 35 zone, and it turns out the victims of the crash were the parents of a local family that Dana and I both know and there was a third car that was on fire and one of the cars that was racing was mangled and they had to pull that guy out with the jaws of life-- so that's the story I got, in graphic and gory detail, before Dana stuck some needles in me and knocked me out-- and so I had some very weird and scary dreams while I was in the acupuncture dream-state.

End of the School Year Sporting Potpourri

I finished off a full week of athletics with a stellar performance-- if I don't say so myself-- at 6:30 AM basketball this morning . . . sometimes it pays off to be a minute late, as I ended up on a dream team with all the elements-- youth, athleticism, basketball savvy, and the ability to shoot from outside-- and when you're on a good team, you often get good passes and open shots, which I converted like crazy today-- unusual when I play early in the morning-- it's too bad this is not the end of the line, there's another game Monday morning, where I'm sure I'll return to my usual shooting form (chucking that shit up from anywhere, waiting to get hot, cursing the russet clad early morn) but I can't complain-- starting from last Friday, it was cornhole, pickleball, singles tennis, basketball with college kids, badminton, lifting,  bike ride to Castleton and pickleball last night, and then hoops this morning-- and I'm still upright and walking, an impressive week of screwing around in various arenas- and there's still a cornhole tournament tomorrow and father's day pickleball on Sunday and one last day of early morning basketball on Juneteenth.

Birthday Athletics, Plus . . .

I am very sore today, but in a good way: yesterday Alex snuck Ian and me into the Busch gym so we could play some pick-up basketball and we ran into one of my old students from East Brunswick (Armaan) who loves to play (and often plays with my son Alex) and then once we got in the gym, we saw several soccer players and one tennis player from Highland Park (Matt, Amay, and Boyang) and so we played a couple of hours of four-on-four and-- aside from one random-- I had either sired, coached, or taught all the players in the game-- and my team was kicking some butt (Armaan could really shoot and pass) and I was driving the soccer player that was covering me crazy-- he played basketball like a soccer player-- the way I did when I started-- and so succumbed to all the basic moves . . . anyway, we had a blast and then I got up this morning and played 6:30 AM badminton, which I haven't done in a while, and it was as frustrating as it usual is-- that game is difficult and unpredictable and it's really hard to hit a backhand out of the corner-- but I got another good runaround and now I can barely move.

Thoughts on My Son's Eighteenth Birthday

It is my son Ian's eighteenth birthday today-- yikes-- and it's been quite a senior year, but hopefully, he will get his shit together before he has to send his fourth-quarter transcript to Muhlenberg-- my wife said she'd like to "shake him" and I said, "go right ahead, he's not a baby anymore"-- in other news, I was eating a couple of my wife's vegetable and ham egg muffins-- she was trying to use up our egg surplus and so she baked eggs and other good stuff in a muffin tin and made a bunch of them-- and while I kind of like the egg muffins, I don't love their consistency-- they are too foamy-- and I don't like foam . . . I don't like foam on my beer and I certainly don't like cold foam on my coffee-- who the fuck is paying extra for cold foam? would you pay extra for cold foam on a beer?-- and, on a positive note in the age department, yesterday at the Y, my older son (he's 19) and I beat two giant Asian dudes in two-on-two basketball-- they were seniors in college, they were very athletic and could jump and shoot, but they had no clue how to deal with a pick-and-roll and didn't figure out Alex was left-handed until I told them . . . I'm not sure how long I can keep this father/son basketball thing going, but it will be fun while it lasts (and we can't wait until Ian can play with us too-- he's gotten really tall and long, but he keeps busting up his fingers playing volleyball . . . and though my kids are coming back to basketball rather late in life, they're a hell of a lot better than I was when I was nineteen-- when I was nineteen, I played basketball like a rugby player).

Long Full Day

6:30 AM basketball this morning, followed by an empty exam period (which was lucky for me because I forgot a change of clothing) followed by a long and arduous Public Speaking exam (it takes more energy to listen to a speech than to make one) followed by some errands with Stacey, followed by the end-of-the-year party and cornhole tournament (Krystin and I made it to the semi-finals but the tournament has gotten very competitive . . . no more pushover teams-- every game was insane and Kim Pzeszski kicked my butt even though I was putting in eight or ten a round) followed a well earned Friday crash.

Sunday Wrap-up

The end of an action-packed anniversary weekend: my wife and I made it out after getting lost in the Sourlands-- we walked over the bridge to Cuzin's-- and, as usual, the drinks and the seafood (and the eggplant tower) were all fantastic (if a bit pricey) and the vibe in that place is nuts-- as opposed to Salt, which is a bit fancier and stodgier, Cuzin's always has people dressed casually who are there to spend some money-- the people next to us at the bar were particularly amazing-- a very Jersey couple . . . who may or may not have been a couple-- they frequently cursed each other out and referred to each other as "an asshole" and they required a TON of attention from the bartender-- the dude started out with a $55 tequila shot, then he needed to charge his phone, then his date needed the bartender to come around and show her the channel where there was a hook to hang her purse, then they had a lot fo questions about every drink and item on the menu-- but the woman-- who was 37 but didn't look it  . . . according to the bartender-- was a particular kind of fit petite peroxide blonde Jersey girl from Manalapan with a fucking priceless "real housewives of New Jersey" accent that made everything she said hysterically funny-- anyway, Cuzin's is a lot of fun if you've got some money to spend-- it's more like a club that serves seafood than a restaurant, especially if you sit at the bar . . . so a good end to our anniversary-- we finished out the night watching the finale of The Diplomat . . . thumbs up on that show, and then this morning I got up early and played basketball with my son before he had to head to work lifeguarding-- and then he dropped me off at the pickle ball courts-- so I played sports for four hours and then came home, did some requisite cleaning of the house, and then took a two hour nap-- and when I awoke, Ian was back from prom weekend and mowing the lawn!-- he actually read my wife's note and did a chore-- pretty sweet-- and now he's sleeping . . . he must have had quite a weekend-- he started out in Wildwood and then ended up in LBI, staying at a rental organized by one of my EB students-- so maybe I'll get some gossip on Monday.

Sports with the Boys (and more)

I had off yesterday (because we didn't use any snow days) and so my older son Alex snuck me into the Rutgers gym on Busch Campus at noon so we could play basketball-- I felt pretty sketchy, hanging out by the back doors waiting for my son to let me in-- but no one seemed to care and there was a fun five-on-five game-- a few older guys and a few college students . . . Alex and I got to play on the same team and we won every game-- he's really become a player, he can shoot a bit from outside, he's tall and long, and he knows how to drive and seal someone and get to the rim (he's also lefty, which confuses people) and I made a few three-pointers and got some rebounds-- definitely a treat to be able to play full court with a nineteen-year-old-- and then I rushed home and was off to coach the tennis match-- we were playing the two seed in the state quarterfinals but we matched up well-- we played a much tougher schedule than they did-- and Ian was crushing his forehand-- he whipped his kid in less than an hour and though some of the other kids put up a fight, we still won 5-0 in the end-- but the match took forever because there were only four courts, so second doubles had to wait-- then we rushed back to Highland Park and went straight to the senior awards night-- Ian got an award from the booster club for athletics and sportsmanship-- very nice-- and it was a great-- if tiring day-- until Ian told us that after prom-- which is on Thursday, along with the state semi-tennis match-- him and a couple of friends planned to drive to Wildwood and sleep in the car for a couple of nights-- so we had to explain that you really can't do that and that he needed to plan some lodging and that became a whole teenage debate which I won't get into-- but that's the deal with teenagers, it's an emotional rollercoaster (for all those involved).

Long Fucking Afternoon

My son Ian, a senior, and Ethan-- an athletic and skilled sophomore, played their challenge match today for the first singles position and it wasn't pretty; Ian had two fingers taped on his left hand from a basketball injury and couldn't hit his patented two-handed backhand and Ethan suffered from calf cramps; Ian won the first set 6-1, Ethan won the second set 6-3 and then Ian won the third set 6-4 . . . Ethan showed that he's incredibly fast and can get to almost anything, Ian hit some decent first serves, but it was mainly a war of attrition and I'd kind of like to see them play again when they are both perfectly healthy.

What The Kids Are Up To . . .

On our ride home from the Catskills, my son Alex gave me the lowdown on college-- apparently fraternity hazing still happens, as does the use of various narcotics-- he also told me that college kids are very protective about their TikTok For You page . . . apparently by college the TikTok algorithm is so precise and addictive that letting anyone else scroll on your For You page would reveal all your secret peccadilloes and personality quirks-- I checked with my high school kids and the were not as defensive in regards to their personalized TikTok feeds . . . some kids said they wouldn't want people to see it (one girl said her feed is mainly "random teenagers crying") but other kids said they would be fine sharing-- so maybe it takes a few years for the algorithm to really pinpoint your personality-- who knows-- but Alex took all the social media off his phone so he could focus on school: he's been waking up early; studying a lot; and playing loads of intramural basketball . . . I also learned that he did NOT watch two shows that my students were into when they were young: Victorius and Jane the Virgin-- neither of my kids watch them, nor did they watch Grey's Anatomy, another show that is a favorite with my current students . . . and THAT is what the kids are up to.

Back to Belleayre (But Better)

Last spring, Alex and I took a trip to Belleayre Mountain to do some snowboarding in celebration of his acceptance to the Rutgers Engineering Program but the weather was weird-- rainy then balmy then frigid and icy-- so we did more hiking and eating in Phoenicia than snowboarding but this trip was far more fun . . . we were luck to get ANY snowboarding in this year because the winter was so lousy for snow so my son was very happy that things worked out-- he's on Spring Break and tennis season isn't ready to start yet because of the weather; anyway, we drove up to Kingston on Saturday night, ate some cheap pizza and crashed at the Best Western-- we had to have our room moved because 

1) our window claustrophobically faced an indoor arcade/pool courtyard and all the kids were screaming;

2) the people in the room next door were chain-smoking cigarettes and it was seeping through the door-- we ratted them out and the management put us in a very quiet room with a window facing the river;

Sunday was sunny and beautiful on the mountain and there was still fresh snow from the last storm and it really didn't get that crowded until after lunch-- we put in a long day and my feet and calves hurt-- first time using those muscles this season-- and then we drove down to Phoenicia, wandered around some, and ate at Brio's Pizzeria, which is highly recommended for incredible pizza (with sesame seeds ont he crust!) and beer and pulled pork burritos and everything else-- we watched some college basketball and then headed to the Starlite Motel to crash-- but first we learned that Rutgers would NOT be making the Bog Dance-- very sad but they didn't have enough out of conference wins and crumbled down the stretch in the Big 10-- this morning, we woke up to a wonderful surprise-- it snowed a bunch on the mountain, so we got to ride some fresh powder . . . so we ate our leftover pizza and headed to the mountain and the place was empty-- a great trip (aside from when I slipped and fell on some ice while getting on a lift and nearly got decapitated by the chair-- but I was able to pop back up and the lift attendant slowed the chair down enough so that I could hop on without injury or mishap) but the ride home was ugly-- the snow turned to rain and I'll actually have to deal with the stupid time change tomorrow.

 

Yikes

I went up for a rebound today while playing four-on-four basketball with my son and somehow got my legs swept out from under me and hit the floor hard-- and my body was horizontal-- I think I came down on my right elbow and right arm and my right hip . . . I hot so hard my glasses flew off, but-- miraculously-- I did not hit my head on the floor and after a moment to shake it off, I was able to get up and continue playing-- but I might be sore tomorrow.