The beauties of fresh live things coming together in the farmers markes. Include brand new things just waiting for each other. Those potatoes just barely out of the box(“new potatoes”) whereas peas from the pod are also “new”. Awaiting is a nice fish, available from the freezer at the market. And voila, we got “peas and new potatoes” and spring is here
Peas and new potatoes 1 # small potatoes, quartered 1 C shelled peas 1 T butter 1 T all purpose flour 1 C milk S&P to taste
Step 1. Place potatoes in large pot and cover with salted water; bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium low and simmer till tender, about 15-20’, drain
Step 2. Meanwhile, bring in a medium saucepan of water to a boil; add peas and simmer until just tender, about 6-7 minutes. Drain and set peas aside.
Step 3 add butter to the same saucepan, melt over medium heat. Stir in flour to make a thick paste; gradually whisk in milk, stirring constantly until slightly thickened. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add potatoes and peas, simmer, stirring often, until potatoes are heated through, about 5’. Serve immediately.
Note: one pound of fresh paes equals about 1 C of shelled peas.
Too hot? Tempted for take-out again? Michigan’s Gretch shut down everything 5 years ago and we’re still adjusting.. So much no touch you couldn’t tell what’s touch into what. Keep Mr. Corona away! With it, the cornocopua of take-out offers variety that maybe ol’ home cookin’ doesn’t. That same March was when ordered begain to change starting from March—May 2020, in the early months of the pandemic, spending on delivery through third-party apps started to become more popular for both full- and quick-service restaurants. At quick-service restaurants, third-party delivery spending in the United States tripled from about $0.4 billion in the December 2019–February 2020 period to about $1.4 billion 3 years later (October–December 2022).. Although total spending through apps has declined since peaking in early 2021, it remained higher through the end of 2022 than before the pandemic, with the increase more pronounced for quick-service restaurants than for those offering full service (Z). Caution persists with bag pick up or direct pick up from the server recommended
Habits to obtain this slate of food were hard to break. Homemakers tried to duplicate these and other treats, but home cooking expenditures flattened to pre-COVID levels by October 2024. Families blessed with a library of cookbooks can tip back to treats of their youth. Then there’s that usage to make the same treat you’ve been ordering. Why not have as much curry as you want? For us, that treat’s an easy one: right from the Jamaican Jerk Pit comes a curried meat and beans dish
That used to be a curried goat dish, but no more than meat.
While making curried Korean lamb slabs as a trial, which came out well, we decided that much more fish might be available and stretched out to this new recipe. So, we stuffed in a bunch of tilapia, a lovely bland fish that marries with the curry and vegetables. I’m sure goat will work if I can get my hands of it.
“Curry” is a big deal in this recipe. The name comes from ‘cairn” by which Brits whipped up a collection of spices like they and already know. Sukhi. What is your comprehensive curry guide. https://sukhis.com/full-curry-guide.
Here is my recipe (next page).
Getting ready for this recipe caught up with a shirt that could save Clorox and other items to get it straight. My own pants got so much turmeric, they required special treatment. But all is clean.
The counter takes its toll. No goat there (that’s for another day). Ya go through a lot of Curry Powder. A little hot powder helps, so from Mexico we dig out some some Chimisa and some curry power III toast gently (frying pan or 200 X 300)¼ C turmeric3T coriander2 T cominos1 T white peppercorns1 T whole clove2 T ginger1 T cardamom2 t cayenne1 T mace1 T fines herbes1 T fenegreek seed grind in spice grinderstore in airtight container. will last indefinitely
Once you’ve got the spice, then there’s the rest
After that, the recipe is straight forward and even. No restriction on eating some of the curried fish.
JAMAICAN CURRIED FISH 3 3 1/2 #tiliapa or goat frozen green peas, ¼ – ½ cooking oil 1 C rice or cauliflower rice 2 t minced garlic 1 med onion, sliced wrap in cheesecloth; peas and rice, shallots, chopped thawed4-5 T curry powder cook all 12-10’ w/ Chimisa Brand Med Hot 1 t white pepper 1-2 t fresh thyme 2 green onion sliced 2-3 med potatoes 1 T tomato paste 1 Scotch bonnet pepperSalt to taste 2 C chicken broth
season goat or tilapia with salt and pepper. set aside.
heat oil med, add meat, sauté
continue till meat is brown
add curry, Chimisastir for 2’
add garlic, ginger, white pepper, onions, thyme, paste, scallions and Scotch Bottom
stir for about minutepour into
pour in just enough water to covert goat/meat and bring to a boil, simmer till tender )2 hours or more).
About 15-20 minutes before removing from stove, add potatoes and boullion. Cook till potatoes tender.
Too hot? Tempted for take-out again? Michigan’s Gretch shut down everything 5 years ago and we’re still adjusting.. So much no touch you couldn’t tell what’s touch into what. Keep Mr. Corona away! With it, the cornocopua of take-out offers variety that maybe ol’ home cookin’ doesn’t. That same March was when ordered begain to change starting from March—May 2020, in the early months of the pandemic, spending on delivery through third-party apps started to become more popular for both full- and quick-service restaurants. At quick-service restaurants, third-party delivery spending in the United States tripled from about $0.4 billion in the December 2019–February 2020 period to about $1.4 billion 3 years later (October–December 2022).. Although total spending through apps has declined since peaking in early 2021, it remained higher through the end of 2022 than before the pandemic, with the increase more pronounced for quick-service restaurants than for those offering full service (Z). Caution persists with bag pick up or direct pick up from the server recommended
Habits to obtain this slate of food were hard to break. Homemakers tried to duplicate these and other treats, but home cooking expenditures flattened to pre-COVID levels by October 2024. Families blessed with a library of cookbooks can tip back to treats of their youth. Then there’s that usage to make the same treat you’ve been ordering. Why not have as much curry as you want? For us, that treat’s an easy one: right from the Jamaican Jerk Pit comes a curried meat and beans dish
That used to be a curried goat dish, but no more than meat.
While making curried Korean lamb slabs as a trial, which came out well, we decided that much more fish might be available and stretched out to this new recipe. So, we stuffed in a bunch of tilapia, a lovely bland fish that marries with the curry and vegetables. I’m sure goat will work if I can get my hands of it.
“Curry” is a big deal in this recipe. The name comes from ‘cairn” by which Brits whipped up a collection of spices like they and already know. Sukhi. What is your comprehensive curry guide. https://sukhis.com/full-curry-guide.
Here is my recipe (next page).
Getting ready for this recipe caught up with a shirt that could save Clorox and other items to get it straight. My own pants got so much turmeric, they required special treatment. But all is clean.
The counter takes its toll. No goat there (that’s for another day). Ya go through a lot of Curry Powder. A little hot powder helps, so from Mexico we dig out some some Chimisa curry powder III toast gently (frying pan or 200 X 300)¼ C turmeric3T coriander2 T cominos1 T white peppercorns1 T whole clove2 T ginger1 T cardamom2 t cayenne1 T mace1 T fines herbes1 T fenegreek seed grind in spice grinderstore in airtight container. will last indefinitely
Once you’ve got the spice, then there’s the rest
After that, the recipe is straight forward and even. No restriction on eating some of the curried fish.
JAMAICAN CURRIED FISH 3 3 1/2 #tiliapa or goat frozen green peas,¼ – ½ cooking oil 1 C rice or cauliflower rice 2 t minced garlic 1 med onion, sliced wrap in cheesecloth; peas and rice shallots, chopped thawed 4-5 T curry powder cook all 12-10’ Chimisa Brand Med Hot 1 t white pepper1 2 t fresh thyme 2 green onion, sliced 2-3 med potatoes 1 T tomato paste 1 Scotch bonnet pepper Salt to taste 2 C chicken broth
season goat or tilapia with salt and pepper. set aside.
heat oil med, add meat, sauté
continue till meat is brown
add curry, Chimisastir for 2’
add garlic, ginger, white pepper, onions, thyme, paste, scallions and Scotch Bottom
stir for about minutepour into
pour in just enough water to covert goat/meat and bring to a boil, simmer till tender )2 hours or more).
About 15-20 minutes before removing from stove, add potatoes and boullion. Cook till potatoes tender.
adjust cover tight
get cover right
Here’s an all goat reciped by anther purveyo, followed by other recipes.
I’ve written about my late fathers so much I thought this year I’d let others carry the emotional ball. Leave it to the fat guy, Matt Watroba of Folks Like Us as he got into the sentimental stuff. And boy, there’s a lot. But nobody pulls those heart strings about my dad like Steve Goodman and Guy Clark. Steve pulls a little but real talking about his dad “flying a B-24 over the Burma Road in the big war”. Dad was almost a paratrooper, till the Army noticed his glasses, and it was his brother – my Uncle Bob – who sat backup in a B-24 on the Burma Road. And he got it right at the end “there’s no more charming guy in this whole world than my old man.” And Guy’s extended grief for his dad rested in a special knife, the likes of which we had (and I broke).
I face this Mothers’ Day as a full blown orphan for the first time in 15 years. It’s a situation I thought I’d be facing for the rest of my life after May 17, 1963 the day I found my mom stretched out and dead on the couch when I came home for lunch. My parents never made any secret I was adopted, so I realized I might have another family somewhere. Several years after my dad died, I got up courage to ask a private investigator to transform my adoption papers into a real contact. His quick success found me with a living mother and father and 10 half sisters and brothers. But having. a mother again, especially one with whom shared with me so many traits, and who quickly became interested in my life, was the supreme joy. I thought I’d have her a little longer, as her own mom beat 104. Mom missed that by 13 years. While her spirit never wavered, consequences of aortic stenosis (a heart valve malady) and measures to manage it left her ever more frail. It turns out I have aortic stenosis, too, but my cardiologist says I’ll die with it and not of it.
Let’s go back to the time when Little Bobby was but a “clump of cells”, two beautiful ladies in waiting.
As Mom awaited her adopted child, she and my Dad had a plenty good time. She, like my dad, was quite the athlete. They tore ’em up on the golf course. To support herself, she sold real estate. It turned our the last development her firm pushed was a property in Wyoming (10 miles from GR) available for development when the spring feeding a gypsum quarry burst, so there was our house on Big Spring Drive!
Mom Marlene was in sales, too. When she learned she was pregnant with me, she took a job selling magazines in Philadelphia, getting out of Dodge while in tow. This handsome picture of my ever classy mom likely includes me in there somewhere.
The golfer got me to about 10, leaving me with only memories, all I had to late middle age when it exploded on me again with real relationships with real live people. That may be it, but another gift of reconnection is all those people who loved the same people you did, and with those memories, with which the lost shall never really be.
So, to many how many mothers you’ve know, Happy Mothers’ Day to them all.
The setting is Weber’s Inn, Ann Arbor, for the weekly Monday meeting of the UofM Club of Ann Arbor, which since joining several years ago, I’ve called the “geriatric advisory council to the athletic department”. Yes, Kathy and I lowered the average age when we joined several years ago. The Club collects dues, and funds scholarships and awards. The biggest is the “Michigan Man” award, given annually to the Michigan athlete whose performance on and off the field marks him as a true “Michigan Man”, posessing a set of intangible attributes that identify a man as one who would have inscribed “Go Blue” on his headstone. Among my wife’s Kathy’s duties, since getting on the board of the Club, is handling the speakers we invite. Football and basketball have their own channels, but then there’s the “Olympic Sports” (a better euphemism than “non-revenue sports”). So, although Blake’s appearance was pre-arranged, Kathy still had to shepherd him in and out.
Here they are:
Anyone who only knows about Blake from watching our games is missing the full measure of the man. Nevertheless, see here 15 minutes of football highlights (1). Harbaugh knew he had something special in Blake when, as a freshman, he clocked a 4.0 in the 40-yard dash and a 4.00 in the classroom. Yes, he was a damned important component of the team that won the Natty, but there’s so much more to him that my heart burst with pride as he delivered his remarks. . The resolve for this team to gird up for a Natty run may have started in November ’22, when Blake’s amazing season was cut short by a hit on his knee. He would have won the Heisman had he finished the season uninjured. Instead, Blake continued with many teammates seeing the 2023 season as “unfinished business”. Blake became the touchdown machine. Red-zone difficulties? Give it to Blake. Two years earlier, he was the “lightning” to the “thunder and lightning” of him and Hassan Haskins, now with the Tennessee Titans. Blake’s breakaway runs in ’23 were less common, but he mounted enough touchdowns to claim the Michigan record. Yet it was his performance off the field that was even more impressive. Blake did well with NIL, handsome dude that he is, but chose to funnel his funds to community projects. He handed out 150 turkeys and 150 gallons of milk to needy Ypsilanti residents at Thanksgiving ‘22, then came up with 600 turkeys for them last fall (2).
Blake’s comments to the assembled geezers were magnanimous, of course. He’d take no individual credit for the success of his team, instead insisting the whole effort was a team project. He was just named the Big 10’s Medal-of-Honor recipient, an honor handed out since 1915. The Big Ten Medal of Honor is awarded to one male and one female student from the graduating class of each member institution who has demonstrated excellence on and off the field throughout their college career. The highest honor that a student competing in conference athletics can achieve in the Big Ten, the award was established in 1915 and was the first award in intercollegiate athletics to demonstrate support for the educational emphasis placed on athletics. During the past century, the Big Ten Medal of Honor has been awarded to more than 1,300 honorees. These individuals have translated their campus experience into success in all walks of life (3). Blake said he looked forward to his time in the NFL, seeing his 18 teammates on the boards as future competitors but also still friends. When asked about how his life would change upon becoming a pro, he went on about a project he had in mind. He’s set to develop a camp in the area for inner city youth. One of the things he wants to do is instruct them in “lost skills”, like changing a tire. He already has a name for the place. When he was growing up on a farm in Virginia, he liked to chase and capture frogs. So the name: Camp FROG, all caps because that’s an acronym: “Forever Relying on God”. The devotion of this team did not get a lot of press. But from the get go, they were a team bound in religion. Their head coach is a devout Catholic (despite that one divorce). How that translated to a whole team praying together prior to a game hasn’t gotten out yet (4). Yet hearing players in their post-game comments dedicate their success to the “glory of God” should have been a hint something was going on here. Just look at one of the t-shirts the boys were selling to get a little of that NIL money. See our all world QB JJ with backup QB Jack Tuttle, who started at Indiana in ’22 but transferred so he could work with Harbaugh. Jack stuck around and is in the mix to replace the departed JJ his year.
New coach 36 year old Sherrone Moore shows full commitment to Michigan traditions of smashmouth and God. So we of the faithful expect continued success, God willing.
In looking for a dinner spot to warm up for Lyle Lovett at the Masonic next July 23rd, I thought about that little place that only fed what its 8 bar stools could hold, way in the back of the Hotel Siren across from the Opera House, Albena (1). We’d been there 3 or 4 times, having stumbled on it on Yelp looking for something else. A little “review” of that first experience was one of my first blog posts (2).
But, we’ll have to sit for Lyle with somebody else’s victuals in our innards. From my Google update on Albena, I found from their web page that feedings didn’t start till Thursdays at 6 PM. July 23rd is Tuesday and the concert starts at 7. Anything less than two hours would be unfair to Chef Libar’s preparations. But I found worse news in the search. According to a Free Press article, Mr.& Mrs. Lipar closed up shop March 16th (3). A telling phrase from the story is that the price for one of their 8-12 course tasting dinners had risen to $250 per person, more than I ever paid. It still would be worth it for a once-in-a-while, but that’s a steep ticket for a night out in Dee-troit, although you might be saving on the “…and show” for such dates. No show at any of the local stages could match what Garrett and Tiffany had put on. Here we see the stars of the show, from the Free Press Article.
Chef and co-owner Garrett Lipar named the place after his Albanian grandmother. Nearly 5,000 Albanians live in metro Detroit’s Macomb County, 4h largest concentration of Albanian settlers in the country (4). I had an Albanian Iman for a patient. In 1929, Albanian Muslims helped cover the mortgage on St. Thomas Orthodox Church, established by Albanian Christians. There are Albanian Sufists, who enjoy a retreat at the First Albanian Bektashi Monastery (Tekke), which opened in nearby Taylor in 1953 under direction of Baba Rexheb. Now with all those Albanians, there are some true Albanian restaurants in the area. Right on State Street is Ann Arbor is aMa Bistro (5). A perusal of their menus might make you think you’re in any of the many Greek greasy spoons that dominated Ann Arbor in my heyday, but look close and there’s Fhurghasa, Bhurani, Khina, and Petuilla (fried dough) to get you down and ethnic.
Garrett and Tiffany strayed far from the Karaburun Peninsula for their dishes. What drove their choices seemed to be what was freshest and most local. As such, any lucky ones sitting on those stools at their bar got what seemed like a nonstop array of treats, with wines perfectly paired. I frankly don’t know when I’ll see such personal excellent treatment again. I’m thankful for the brief few years I was able to experience it at Albena. Talented chefs like Garrett emerge on the pop-up tour, so maybe one of us will be lucky enough to find ourselves at a Garrett Lipar catered event. He and Tiffany have a new baby to tend to, so a new restaurant may be a bit off, but I’ll be watching.
If any of you paid attention to my January 2020 blog and went for a meal, lucky you. You’ll not eat like that again for a while.
*(from the Albanian) bye, bye Chef Lipar (&Mrs.)
addendum: see an 8-course meal prepared for us by the Lipars, sometime for us inlate January 2021, introduced in Quaddese** (6).
** Quaddese: a dialect spoken around West Quad, especially Chicago House, in the early 70s. Yep, the “Honors House”. See reference (6) for an example of correct usage.
Fans of James Jarmusch’s breakthrough 1984 film “Stranger than Paradise” (1) will recognize Aunt Lotte’s (Cecilia Stark’s) line, uttered as she bests in a game of cards her nephews Eddie and Billy visiting her in Cleveland from NYC. As she triumphantly fans her cards over her tray in her living room, she announces frankly “I am da vinner!”.
Since none of you (well, maybe one) made it out to the Wind and James Event Center in Schoolcraft Thursday night to catch the 10th Annual Tournament of Writers Celebration (2), I can announce to you here as news that “I am da vinner!”. Well, not the whole shebang, but Honorable Mention in the non-fiction Senior Division (51+). As Kathy assures me, I can now call myself an “Award-winning-writer”. Rest assured, the charges on this blog will not be going up.
The Tournament invites writers of all ages from the tri-county area (Kalamazoo, St. Joseph, and Calhoun) (2). After a few years of lobbying Syd Bartos, diminutive director of the whole affair, she let me enter provided I assure her I write something about Vicksburg. Upwards of a hundred enter each year, splits by category (fiction, non-fiction, poetry) and age (8th grade or less, 9th grade through age 25, 26-50, and 51 up). I had plenty I could write about from my ‘burg years, so I was in.
It’s an efficient operation. Entries, with strict guidelines, open February 1st and close end of month. Six local writers, including editor-in-chief of The South County News, Kathy Oswalt-Forsyth, serve as coaches to entrants who want one, and then as judges. Top winners are announced live on Facebook April 1st. All entries, not just winners, go into a paperback book published on Amazon (3) that’s ready to order April 8th, when the ceremony is still over a week away. Now up to 365 pages!
In the run up to that date, I wondered even about the wisdom of going. Ms Bastos originally had wanted me to judge, but then forgot about that. Fortunately, my little writing amie and VHS classmate Sandy Northrop Jones asked me to sit next to her at the signing ceremony and who could pass that up? Authors sit at a long table and pass their books – basically their “participation trophies” – back and forth till we’ve all signed each other’s. I thought Sandy had to pull some strings, but then I saw our cards “Bob Ike” and “Sandy Jones”. Our fate was not in the stars, but the alphabet.
As Syd was kicking off the ceremony, she announced how it had been opened to outsiders from as far away as Ann Arbor. I didn’t hear any hisses, and felt relieved. Then she began to announce awards for honorable mention, which hadn’t been included in any of the preliminaries. And who’s among them, but yours truly! Well, I walked a little lighter the rest of the night. Each entrant gets a copy of all the judges’ comments. I haven’t read mine yet but Syd said she gave it to a couple of old guys who got a real kick out of it.
I’ll try not to spoil it with too much intro. Let’s just say it’s about me and 3 classmates/buddies making a movie back in the day. They removed all pictures from all submissions for inclusion in the book. I’ve restored mine here.
Spielberg ’70? By Bob Ike
4 ‘Burg Boys Go to the Moon, 8mm Style
Honorable Mention – Nonfiction Senior Division
My VHS class of ’70 experienced some pretty momentous events, especially in our final 2 years. Sure, you can be drawn to the sad and bad, like the assassinations, the riots, the Vietnam war, and the car-train crash that killed our classmates Ike and Pat (1), but we soared with the Tigers’ first World Series championship in 23 years, all that great music, and those space exploits: first that (Apollo 8) swing around the moon over Christmas ’68, then the actual moon landing of Apollo 11 in July the next year. Perhaps the greatest achievement of mankind, uniting the world in awe of America’s exploration achievement. So, of course, it begged for a snarky response by some local smart-assed teenagers. Eric, Shorty, and I set out to make our version of the whole escapade, and film it. I had a little hand-me-down 8mm Bell & Howell movie camera I’d already used to capture classroom antics. Whatever imagination I lacked Eric and Shorty had in spades and we were off. Diminutive Ross joined us from time to time. The movie is up on my YouTube channel (2), but unfortunately a click on it comes up “This video has been removed for violating YouTube’s Community Guidelines”. I‘ll work with them on that, but in the meantime all you’ll know about this little movie will come from my descriptions.
The two living actors can’t recall whose idea it was to start or when we started. What we shot was dictated by climate, and some of the shooting was inside. Rather than give you a blow by blow of our shooting schedule, I offer sequences as they appeared on the movie. Was there a plot? Same as Apollo 11. Man shoots to moon. Complications ensue. Man lands on moon. Man plays on moon. Man returns to earth. Adulation erupts.
Here’s about how the movie proceeded. Mimicking the great directors, I didn’t shoot in order. We grabbed scenes according to weather, availability of props, impulsive ideas, whether the parents were home, and so forth. But I present here the scenes as they unfolded in the movie.
Intro. Nearly all movies have an intro to get you keyed up for the flick to come. Sometimes, the intro is better than the actual movie. We didn’t have access to a roaring lion, and a barking bulldog didn’t seem right. So, we went for our first special effect. I trained my camera on a very full toilet bowl, then flushed, filming till all was clear. We spliced the film of that scene in backwards, so when it played, well you know what you’d see. Unfortunately, the media guy who digitized the movie lost that film footage, but not before it got into the DVD. So, the effect is not absent from the current digital version, just the original in a can.
Titles. For those times when text was needed, we had my green chalkboard. I’ve forgotten who did the “artwork”. After the initial titles, the three main players show their goofy faces. Note how magnanimous we were, crediting “Everyone and his moon”.
Lift off. Astronauts Neil and Buzz, dressed in their pale blue striped flight suits (from the Vicksburg Fire Department, courtesy of Eric’s volunteer fireman dad, Sheldon) toast to take a last taste, enter “capsule” (a garage can; special effect!). Then cut to hoisting a Cutty Sark bottle off an array of Schlitz beer cans to the ceiling from Ross’s whitey-tidy clad butt. Blast it off!
The space environment en route to the moon, using that weirdly exposed film, and from my ceiling, that swinging fishing reel kinda looked like a satellite.
Mission control had a crisis! Frantic communications for mission control were fielded by me in front of a radio array, in the dark, headphones on wearing my dad’s 5th Army t-sergeant’s shirt, gesticulating wildly, and drinking. I presume the issue was eventually resolved.
The astronauts did land on the moon (again, Ross’s butt). Ross became part of the crew as they sought to relieve themselves on a classical floor to ceiling urinal (a poster). After such a long trip, what would you want to do? It was winter and Barton Lake was frozen, making our lunar surface. By tossing a twirling garbage can lid – in slow motion – off my roof we sought to mimic landing, if the astronauts were traveling in a flying saucer. My dad’s shout “what are you kids doing up there?” may have been the only adult supervision we’d had though the whole process. Shorty, as the first astronaut out, got to test Barton Lake’s ice, i.e. the lunar surface, by breaking through the ice! After came the descent to the moon’s surface (a ladder to Barton Lake ice). Neil’s (Eric’s) descent was complicated by a fall off the ladder over to the thin ice, thus altering the famous phrase to “That’s a small step for man, but a helluva fall for me!”. Buzz (Shorty) got down o.k., but still broke through some of the thin ice, to which they later took axes, sampling the lunar surface. The intrepid astronauts then conducted their solar wind experiment, flying a kite on the ice over Barton Lake, before boarding for home.
Re-entry started with another special effect, filming the ground rushing by as out an open car door as we drove the back roads. The astronauts emerge with their capsule (a garbage can with a makeshift parachute attached) tumbling through the sky in slow motion. Once alit on the Barton Lake fields playground, Neil and Buzz work to unpack. Most of their cargo seems to be empty beer cans. We’d scoured the roadsides for those empties for several days. There was no bottle law in those days, so our yield was rich. Note that I somehow had died on the mission, as my body was pulled out and draped with a makeshift shroud, beer can on a stick anointing my head.
All that remains is a triumphant return ceremony. With the astronauts in Joe Shook’s flatbed, the drive into the high school elicited magnificent adulation. Who knows what the teachers were thinking. As a final gesture, several of the participants lined up and mooned the school. Then, a 747 flew by overhead. Fin.
The movie has stood the test of time, even without a soundtrack. No one around the ‘burg even knew we were doing such a thing. Not our peers, not our teachers, not our parents, nobody. Meredith Clark didn’t send his daughter Sue over to photograph us for the Commercial. Yet, the movie remains a topic of conversation at every VHS ’70 gathering, sometimes even being shown to the curious. At Shorty’s funeral in 2004, we made it a point to find a place in the basement of Rupert-Durham funeral home to set up a projector and screen to see the movie, in part so we could see the vital Shorty we all knew but also to enjoy his ever-irreverent spirit which permeated everything he did. Several years ago, I had the 8mm film digitized, so now the film is immortal, or at least as long as those pixels last on the disc. This opens the chance for easy editing, which I’ve resisted. How can I improve on something we had so right – given the limitations – over 50 years ago? As I’ve said, it’s a silent flick without even a soundtrack. I did come across a song – a minor hit from ’65 – that would have been perfect to play over the closing credits, if we had any (2). See if the singer looks like anyone from the ‘burg you might have known back then. There’s that social media accessibility. I already have a YouTube channel, and while the movie is up there, click on it and you’ll get “Violates Community Guidelines”. Apparently, there’s an appeals process. Will work on that. Trust that I have not yet monetized. The movie’s also accessible on my GoogeDrive (3)
But not every audience is right for this movie. My dear wife rose to become NASA’s chief scientist for 4 years at the turn of the century, and still has some ties to the space program. Several times I offered her the chance to show “Apollo’s Ass” to her flock. A humorous, brief respite, I thought. Never any takers, alas. I have made her sit through it a few times, so she knows what’s involved. Her latest was when Eric and I viewed it again in the presence of our Kathy mates. Hard to say who won, the producer/director’s hooting and clapping or the women’s eye rolling. The girls did cut us some slack knowing the product they were viewing came from some adolescent smart asses.
Neither Eric nor I have sought or achieved a career in Hollywood, choosing instead the mundane professions of banking and medicine. Steven Spielberg (Saratoga (CA) High, ’65) is a month short of being six years older than Eric, and a few months after that for me. He got started making movies at age 12, even earning a Boy Scout merit badge for an 8 mm work. He made 15-20 adventure films in high school, plus he went to the movies a lot, something Eric and I never did. So, maybe the analogy is weak. But neither of us can quell the thought that forever burns in our souls, as expressed by Marlon Brando’s character in “On the Waterfront”: “I coulda been a contendah!”.
So, if you go to YouTube and watch those few (17) minutes of adolescent nonsense there, get yourself a chuckle and know some boys from the ‘burg did it way back when.
If you’re wondering like the boys looked like, here ya go:
Maybe you had to be there, but I don’t think so. Just as we couldn’t forget how we felt at the moon landing, can we ever forget our viewing of “Apollo’s Ass?”. Timeless art from the ‘burg.
4. Ike B. Speilberg ’70? 4 ‘burg boys go to the moon, 8 mm style. In: Vicksburg Cultural Center. Small Town Anthology X: Southwest Michigan’s Tournament of Writers 2024 pp 77-81
Of course, I smoked a lot of dope as an undergrad. I was so eager to join the stoned crowd in Ann Arbor, I took up smoking (Pall Malls) my last summer in Vicksburg – where weed was still scarce-just to get my lungs in shape. I put away those smokes when I arrived in Ann Arbor where there was plenty of the real thing. I know the male brain is not fully developed till age 25, but I can’t see as I did any harm. My academic career speaks for itself. Into grad school and beyond, I cooled it except for the occasional toke at a party. Jump ahead to the early 90s on a visit to my little brother-in-law in California – 10 years my junior but a true tied-dyed neo-hippie-and had one of his joints. He warned me that the THC content of dope these days is way higher than back in mine. Indeed, I was one toke over pretty quickly but of course finished the joint. They couldn’t get me off the couch and I missed joining them for their little beach walk that night. An experience, for sure, but not one I cared to repeat.
That was it until the next century. I trashed my brachial plexus (tangle of nerves up by the shoulder that makes the arm go) in a bike accident December ’14. My arm was pretty useless for about 6 months but I adapted and didn’t miss a day of work. The nerve pain was constant, dampened some by an anti-seizure medication I had to take in such large quantities it made me move like I had Parkinson’s.
At the time, “marihuana” could be purchased by people certified by a physician to have one of the several conditions it was supposed to help. None of my UofM docs would even discuss it. But $60 and a short consultation with a licensed doc attached to one of the pot shops west of town got me a certificate that I turned into my very own “Michigan Marihuana card”.
The doors of the several local pot shops were open to me now. Kid in a candy store? Well, the choices were overwhelming. The buzz was pleasant and familiar, but didn’t do much for the pain, other than make me care less about it. I learned I didn’t really care for smoking, even if buzz onset was much quicker than with edibles. I eventually took all my leaf and turned it into a caramel edible in my Magical Butter machine (1). My damaged brachial plexus stopped sending out bad messages by the end of 2015, leaving me with quite a stash. My card became obsolete in November 2018 when Michigan voters passed the Michigan Regulation and Taxation of Marijuana Act, allowing anyone age 21 or older to possess up to 2.5 ounces of weed (2).
Frankly, I gave little thought to my stash until April 2019 when I learned I’d be retiring the coming June. What would I do with all that idle time? I do declare, there were times I was so lonesome I took some comfort there. Zoning out with some of my favorite music from back in the day was pretty nice. But a funny thing happened with my retirement. With my big brain no longer tied to the job, plenty of uncommitted time, and a host of things I never had time to tend to or even think about begged for attention. So much fun stuff was going down I didn’t want to zone out and miss anything. So my stash stayed on the shelf.
All that stimulation tickled my bipolar gene a bit. Ben Franklin – ”There’ll be sleeping enough in the grave” – took over. I got by o.k. on my 4 hours, and Kathy liked how nice the house looked. But the past several months, too many 3 AM awakenings got me searching for help. One thing that kept me away from that stash was that back when I was doing it more regularly, it often interfered with my sleep. Surprisingly, that didn’t happen when I began to take a nibble here and there. Sleep came, blessedly, and zoning out was just a matter of dosing. I paid attention to my labels, and indeed “indica” was most sedating with ”sativa” most stimulating and “hybrid” in between. I finally used up my entire stash, so off to the pot shop I went. They’re on every corner here in Tree Town. “Cloud Cannabis” (3) is right next to our favorite party store, 3 blocks away. How convenient! It’s all very clean and clinical. I laid in some edibles, and they’ve worked fine. But I was expecting sticker shock, and got the opposite. Now I don’t think they beat the early 70s going rate of $15/lid, but, people, DOPE IS CHEAP! I bought 8 bags of 10 gummies each for a total of $20 plus tax. Each gummie has 10 mg THC and for me 50 mg gets a roaring buzz going. Now do the math on that. That’s $2.50/bag, or $1.25 for that 50 mg dose. A buck and a quarter! A 6 pack of a nice IPA runs about $15, and it takes about 4 of those to get me a nice buzz going. That’s 10 bucks! Some of you out there with a history will snigger that I’ve neglected to account for all the snacks that THC is going to have me craving. Somehow, that’s not one of the effects I get. My wife is just the opposite. The munchies she gets are so overwhelming she stays far away from the magical herb. But my favorite intoxicant has the calories built in. A 12 oz can of a typical 7% IPA has 200-300 calories. So my friendly beer buzz comes with close to 1,000 calories. We all carry some COVID souvenirs, and my main one is this gut, helped along by a knee that wouldn’t let me walk for exercise for a year. While that gut’s shrinking slowly, there’s still 40 pounds there I don’t need. At 3500 calories/pound of fat, that’s 140,000 calories to be burned. Turn off 140 beer nights, and you see how this works. If I start the program now, I’ll be slim by my birthday (September 4). Maybe Sly will come along and take me higher (4). Boom lacka lacka lacka.
So, maybe there’s some things you can’t expect an old couple to do, like 16-18 innings as Ernie proposed.
The rest of the yes-no are too long and agonizing to bother with, but we can make 2 concerts in one day! As we just did, the first in the highbrow atmosphere of Orchestra Hall (1), doubling back to Ann Arbor’s Kerrytown Concert House 7 hours later to hear Pete Siers and his Kerrytown Stompers, a quintet (2). We know Pete from Firefly Club days (early-mid ‘90s) where he often drummed for groups playing there. He marched out an impressive group, flanked on stage left by a young banjoist and stage right by a young bearded man wrestling a bass saxophone. These monsters served as the bass sections of jazz combos from New Orleans right up into the 30s. The more common bass augment in small jazz groups of this era was the tuba or sousaphone, straight out of the marching band tradition that bore these groups. The bass sax, even more monstrous, fell back even more quickly to the oncoming string basses. Yet, it’s unique tone attracted top bandmen of the day and even Duke Ellington included the instrument on some of his charts. Oh, yeah, you aging wind guys, one with a longstanding jazz club and jazz band plus his talented trumpeter companion kept us in the front row hoppin’. Sneak a trombonist in a bit later and more the merrier!
So the banjo on one side and big brass bass instrument to the other marks a truly genuine authenticity to the grouping.
As Pete and the boys ripped into it, started by Pete on the washboard, the time to sit and hear what’s up wins out. Such rollicking stuff, and we hadn’t heard half of these songs before (but we supported them in spirit!). That had to be the happiest jazz concert we’ve heard since the Firefly shut down. Such noise and feeling from a few guys. Then throw in local boogie-woogie sensation Mark Braun (a.k.a. Mr.B), the jazz intensity only goes up a notch (or 2!). So lucky, the 50 or so people (me too!) who caught them. We shall return!
The whole concert is up “live” on YouTube (3). I think ya can pay to see it later, didn’t check how much.
An older concert, maybe 2020 or 2021, is out there with the same roster Pete had for today’s performance (3), so as you decide whether or not to seek this out, just take in these wonderful sounds!I wanted to append this blog with a YouTube of Pete’s performance at the Firefly, but couldn’t find one from so way back. He was such a young’un then. Any least little trip back to FireFly gets quickly sad, and can get worse. So sad the state nailed her in August 2009, but those actions have consequences (4). Your charges found work at Zal Graz Grotto, but it was never the same, junior high gymnasium versus cool cocktail joint. Trumpeter Don Hicks has coaxed a marvellous jazz club into being right on Main Street (5). Let’s hope he keeps paying his taxes!.
The counter takes its toll. No goat there (that’s for another day). Ya go through a lot of Curry Powder. A little hot powder helps, so from Mexico we dig out some some Chimisa and some curry power III toast gently (frying pan or 200 X 300)¼ C turmeric3T coriander2 T cominos1 T white peppercorns1 T whole clove2 T ginger1 T cardamom2 t cayenne1 T mace1 T fines herbes1 T fenegreek seed grind in spice grinderstore in airtight container. will last indefinitely 
The counter takes its toll. No goat there (that’s for another day). Ya go through a lot of Curry Powder. A little hot powder helps, so from Mexico we dig out some some Chimisa curry powder III toast gently (frying pan or 200 X 300)¼ C turmeric3T coriander2 T cominos1 T white peppercorns1 T whole clove2 T ginger1 T cardamom2 t cayenne1 T mace1 T fines herbes1 T fenegreek seed grind in spice grinderstore in airtight container. will last indefinitely 
Bob Ike's blog 