Tales from the Chief

The 69th annual Golden Globe Awards were announced Sunday night, and the event is a huge deal for folks who closely follow the entertainment scene. In addition to honoring the best in motion pictures, awards are given in television as well.

I used to always look forward to the Globes and typically watched the whole ceremony in its entirety. Yes, awards shows can be boring and tedious; I’m well aware of that. But I also would easily get sucked into the celebrities (and what they were — and sometimes weren’t) wearing and become caught up in who might win the major awards. After all, there was once a time when I went to movies — and rented them — a lot.

Nowadays, though, life is different. Yes, I might have watched the Globes had I been home Sunday night. But, even though I was at work, I really didn’t feel like I was missing that much.

Perhaps this is because many of the movies that earned top honors are ones I either have no interest in or haven’t come to Worthington. Here’s a prime example: “The Artist.”
For the unaware, “The Artist” is a throwback to the 1920s, in that it’s a silent movie filmed in black-and-white. I’ve watched the trailer and it looks great. But … I have a strong suspicion that I will have to wait until its release on DVD and Blu-ray.

“The Artist” won Golden Globes Sunday night for Best Picture, Musical or Comedy, as well as Best Actor, Musical or Comedy (Jean Dujardin, who I have never heard of) and Best Original Score. (Well, I guess it’s not all silent, but I guess that’s part of the appeal. The movies of the silent era always seemed to have distinctive music — I once got to see the 1927 science film “Metropolis” on a huge theater screen at Schenectady, N.Y.’s Proctor’s Theatre with live, out-of-this-world organ accompaniment.)

I also remember loving Mel Brooks’ “Silent Movie” as a kid, and I’m fairly certain that this film made some kind of impact on my younger brother, too. From age 7 up through high school, Ian made a number of Super 8 movies with no sound, no music and plenty of hysterical “acting” by several of his friends, not to mention yours truly.
Ian recently got around to posting a handful of these movies online, apparently believing that in the wake of last year’s “Super 8” that some folks may have a interest in watching some of these classics. Writes Ian on his website:

“Unlike in the film ‘Super 8,’ these movies don’t have any sound. When we used to watch them at home, the whirring of the projector would fill the room and I would typically narrate sections so viewers would understand what the heck was going on. Watching them on a computer in their glorious silence is a bit strange — I’m almost tempted to dub in a projector sound effect just so there’s something there!”

Adding any additional noise outside of the aforementioned whirring, though, would ruin the overall cinematic ambience of the masterpiece “The Bad Guy. “ Notes Ian, “This was the last movie to feature my brother in a starring role, possibly because he became increasingly more demanding with each new production.”

Any chance of me advancing my budding movie-acting career probably perished with “The Bad Guy.” But I still stayed very, very interested in the silver screen for a long, long time.
And now, I settle for afternoon matinees of “Chipwrecked.” In case you’re wondering, that was not up for any awards Sunday night.

So we picked up the “Cars 2” DVD a few days ago, and Zach has been watching it on a probably-too-frequent basis ever since. It’s kind of a mess of a movie — to me, it can’t decide what genre it really belongs in (outside of “kids,” of course) — but it has gotten more tolerable with a couple of casual repeat viewings. (The highlight, for me, is how Pixar has recreated Tokyo, the Italian Riveria and London — I now wish to visit the places even more than ever.)

While watching the previews on the DVD, my son got extremely excited about a new Pixar film advertised as coming in 2013 — “Planes.” I’m a little cynical, but I remember being a big-time skeptic when I first heard about the original “Cars.” But even if “Planes” is far more than just a mere merchandising grab, it’s hard to imagine a “Trains” movie.

After all, Thomas the Tank Engine — and his myriad friends — seem to have the market pretty well cornered when it comes to that department. And, actually, there’s far more than Thomas to choose from for trains. For instance, I’d never heard of something called Chuggington until a recent toy store search. And the number of wooden trains, and train tracks, seem endless — never mind the realm of electric train sets that our Z-Man will undoubtedly cross into someday.

Two Saturdays ago, we drove down to Sibley to view the Otter Valley Railroad display at the Osceola County Fairgrounds. We knew Zach would be into it, but even Disney Princess-loving Grace was fascinated. Anyone with even a remote appreciation of trains would certainly enjoy seeing a huge room dedicated to model trains and related memorabilia.

It made me think back to my youth and my own playing with trains. I don’t recall being as fascinated with them as Zach now is, but a closer look might reveal otherwise. My brother and I had wooden tracks and train cars that we constantly set up — Ian later graduated to an electric train set, as his interest apparently hung around long than mine — but I do remember being extremely excited about taking the train from my hometown of Saratoga Springs, N.Y., to New York City for occasional visits. (It’s a beautiful trip, and it runs parallel to the Hudson River for a significant distance.)

I also have a strong memory of owning a railroad hat that was regularly worn. My dad, around that time, was in a local rock ’n’ roll band that had gigs around our area, and the lead singer and primary songwriter was moved enough to write a song called “Railroad Hat.” (“My railroad hat is blue and gray, and I bought it just yesterday.”)

Another childhood fascination — game shows — led to another song. Ian and I used to draw illustrations of make-believe game shows on paper and then role-play them. Among our classics were “The Hollywood Triangles” (which derived from my now-disturbing love for Paul Lynde), “Junk Bank” (an Ian creation that featured a blowing-up of the loser at the end), and “Train Track,” which may or may not have featured different questions at different stations. I came up with my own tune for this, later also played in concert by my dad’s band. “Train Track is really great. Ryan McGaughey is your host. You can win all kinds of prizes, every morning at 10 a.m.”

I just received a press release in my email the other day about Union Pacific Railroad getting ready to observe its 150th anniversary. “Rail fans will be able to purchase commemorative Union Pacific Railroad 150th anniversary merchandise … as the railroad kicks off its year-long sesquicentennial celebration.” Purchases, incidentally, can made at www.upstore150.com.

So — there’s one more enterprise marketing trains, making it even less likely there will be such a Pixar movie. That’s all right. There’s plenty for Zach to play with already, and I’m hoping he, too, will come up with his own train-related jingle. It would sure beat Thomas’ “they’re two, they’re four, they’re six, they’re eight” earworm.

As usual, it seems as if electronics are near the top of holiday gift lists across the country this year. In particular, it seems a safe bet that thousands upon thousands of e-readers will be sold by Christmas.

I never really thought I’d be too interested in reading anything on a computer device.
I’m not particularly savvy from a technology standpoint, as many of my friends appear to speak an entirely different language about smartphones and all other kinds of 21st-century gadgetry.  There’s also a sort of old-school factor, too; I’ve always loved holding an actual newspaper in my hands and flipping through the pages, as opposed to going online and reading on a screen.

Then I used an iPad for the first time. “I sure would love one of these,” I thought almost immediately. It’s simple to use, everything looks extra shiny and clean on it … and it’s so portable and convenient, it’s amazing how much is so easily accessible with it. Shortly before my birthday about six weeks ago, my wife was asking me what I thought she might be getting me. “I hope it’s nothing big,” I said. “No,” she said, honestly. “It’s not big.”
So, I was able to receive a gift for my birthday that originally I thought we might both give each other for Christmas.

If my wife didn’t spoil me rotten enough by letting me spend too much money on coffee and do far less around the house, she has officially done it by buying me an iPad2.
It’s hard to say what I use the iPad most for, but it’s probably reading newspapers and magazines.

Since I have a print subscription to The New Yorker, for example, I was able to download the magazine’s iPad app and reach each week’s issue with it at no charge.  The app itself ran a little sketchy at first, but has run smoothly over the last couple of weeks after an update was issued.  The app allows you to access stories as well as other multimedia you can’t get in print. (Interestingly enough, I’ve noticed that the timeliness of The New Yorker’s mail delivery has dropped sharply in recent months. Is it a veiled attempt to drive more people to their website and apps?)

Many large newspapers have iPad apps, too, although what you can read depends on the paper. (The Star Tribune, for instance, just switched from free content through a free-to-load app to now requiring a paid subscription for access.) The Omaha World-Herald, on the other hand, offers a huge range of content. (Will the Daily Globe have an iPad app someday? I think the answer has to be yes.)

Newspapers and magazines, of course, barely scratch the surface of what’s available on the iPad.

In fact, I think it’s safe to say I’ve probably explored a small fraction of the possibilities.
I have taken some time to explore education-oriented apps for kids, as (predictably) both Grace and Zach are fascinated by what I’ve come to call my new toy. (Grace, incidentally, knew how to use the device right away, and she’s not even 7 yet.)

And I did download a couple of games for the kids, with Zach being particularly fond of a “Cars 2” app I found (Just when I thought the game was beyond a 4-year-old’s level, he completed an oil-rig obstacle course Wednesday night. I gave him “five,” and he just looked at me with a sheepish sort-of- “no big deal, Dad” face.)

It used to be that when any sort of iPad-related news came out, I mostly ignored it.  But I probably would have paid attention, anyway, to a Wednesday announcement from former Daily Globe photographer Jim Brandenburg that he has introduced a “Chased by the Light” app. “This amazing app takes you along on Jim’s 90-day photographic journey with insight and imagery like never before,” it’s noted on iTunes, where one goes to purchase apps. “Integrated with Jim’s beautiful and evocative photographs are video clips from the Chased by the Light documentary and new music and audio clips from Jim’s collaborators.”

The app is $9.99 to purchase. And, if you don’t have an iPad or don’t want to buy a $10 app, I would be remiss in not mentioning that “Chased by the Light: Jim Brandenburg’s 90-Day Photo Journey” is returning to the University of Minnesota’s Bell Museum of Natural History for a new showing. (It opens Dec. 10 and runs through May 13, 2012.

Seeing an app for Brandenburg’s work made me briefly ponder whether or not they’ll be a Ryan McGaughey app some day. I can’t help but think the likelihood of Grace and/or Zachary having one — or more — is far, far greater.

Americans will celebrate Turkey Day tomorrow, and folks from coast to coast will reflect upon what they’re thankful for. I know I have plenty for which to be grateful, and am frequently trying to teach Grace and Zach that we have so much compared to far too many others — not just in material items, but from the love that comes from both their parents’ extended families.

When Thanksgiving rolls around each year, I can’t help but think about my aunts, uncles and cousins on my dad’s side, gathered around a table with the Steeles. It’s hard not to have this vision; the McGaugheys and Steeles have been celebrating the holiday together for 70 years now.

Unfortunately, being in the Midwest since 1997, I haven’t had the opportunity to join in the Thanksgiving feast for many years. This has by no means kept the dinner from taking place; not by a long shot. The get-together, remarkably, has continued despite the deaths of the couples that originated the annual event, Mel and Grace McGaughey (my grandparents) and John and Anne Steele. Ther children, and on occasion their grandchildren, have realized the tradition’s significance and advanced it.

For many of these 70 years, the Steeles and McGaugheys have gathered in conjunction with Canadian Thanksgiving, which occurs around Columbus Day. The Steeles have a daughter that married a Canadian, so I think this is probably how that got started. The families actually observed Canadian Thanksgiving this year, too, the first holiday meal in 70 years without my grandpa. I wish I would have been able to be there, though I did a get an interesting Facebook friend request out of the deal.

I must have been about Grace’s age — right around 7 or so — when I went to the first McGaughey-Steele Thanksgiving that I remember. I recall it well because I remember spending a good deal of the day playing with Christine, the daughter of the Steeles’ Canadian connection. Of course, it was all very innocent, and I was by no means thinking about my playmate as a “girlfriend.” But when our parents found us under the covers in a bedroom playing house (fully dressed, mind you), I believe that was the end of our playtime.

It wasn’t until about three years later — or maybe one or two more — when Christine and I met again. This time, the circumstances were much different, thanks to each of us being on the precipice of adolescence. Neither of us said a single word to each other. It was almost as if the two of us had been a bad date once and found it too awkward to be in the same room together. (Unfortunately, I’d experience that feeling several years later, once or twice). 

Fast forward three or so more years, and we’re a bit older and wiser — in our mid-teens. Christine and I met again, and we went for a long walk around the neighborhood after supper. Christina furtively smoked cigarettes and offered me one; somehow, I declined. She did most of the talking, and the only thing I remember is something about her thinking all of the boys her age were immature. “But you’re not,” she told me. Boy, the boys in her school must be total losers, I thought. How could she possibly think I was cool?

I haven’t seen Christine since, but I did see her mom at my grandfather’s funeral this past May. This past October, my aunt posted several photos of the 70th annual Steele-McGaughey Thanksgiving on Facebook, and I saw Christine’s mom was on Facebook, too. I sent her a friend request, and she quickly accepted it. Then — and it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes later — I got a friend request from Christine herself. It seems like she is doing well — a single mom who is divorced, but “in a relationship,” according to her status.

Perhaps my wife and I, and our children, will gather with Christine and her kids for Thanksgiving someday — that would be a fourth-generation Steele-McGaughey event. Yes, the chances may be slim, but this year the simple possibility of it is one of many things I can be thankful for.

Anyone else notice that the Christmas shopping season seems to be starting just a little bit earlier each year?

I’m not talking about the sorts of stores that have aisles dedicated to Christmas-type items year-round, though that alone raises my ire a tad. No, I’m talking about decorations on display, sales emphasizing the approaching holiday, Christmas songs filling the air like musical smog … you know, go to almost any major department store nowadays and you’ll experience it.

“It” is “Christmas creep,” and for me — who used to be one of those guys who saved most holiday shopping for Dec. 24 — it’s a most unwelcome phenomena. “Christmas creep” has its own Wikipedia entry — what doesn’t? — which includes the following:

In U.S. retail, the phenomenon was pioneered by stores like Sams Club, which introduced early Christmas sales to support resellers. The hardware chain Lowe’s followed in 2000 with a policy of setting out Christmas trees and decorations by October 1, mainly because the Halloween and Thanksgiving holidays do not provide enough merchandise or sales to fill retail space between the end of the summer season and the Christmas season. In 2002–2003, Christmas creep accelerated markedly with retailers such as Wal-Mart, J.C. Penney, and Target beginning their Christmas sales in October. In 2006 the National Retail Federation, an industry trade group, said that 40 percent of consumers planned to start their holiday shopping before Halloween.

Before Halloween?? What is wrong with these people??!!

So — no great surprise — it’s the major department stores driving the early onslaught. Now, I fully realize these business are all important contributors to our country’s overall economic health, but to me their role in “Christmas creep” affords me an additional reason to shop a small, local business before heading over to the Sioux Falls chains.

Especially after this past Saturday.

Somehow, Becca and I agreed upon the idea that it would be fun to take the kids to Toys “R” Us to have them pick out Christmas gifts for the cousins. Yes, I know. Christmas gifts, before Thanksgiving. That early shopping thought was probably Mistake No. 1; the other was our store of choice.

Now, I’m not one to fault the selection at this toy store, as the number of choices is staggering. And, it’s not just cool stuff — it’s “Cars” stuff, it’s Disney Princess stuff, you name it. But if anyone was going to design the interior of any place of business, the Sioux Falls Toys “R” Us would be the anti-model.

The aisles are way too narrow, leaving little or no room to maneuver carts around even reasonably fit folks. One also has little choice but to move back and forth between boy- and girl-oriented items, thus offering more opportunities to get stuck for prolonged periods within the masses. Many toys’ bells, whistles, sirens, buzzers, voices and musical sounds combined to create a noise that I may have considered trading for that of a jackhammer. Add in scores of pleading children and scolding parents, and yes — I think I might just take that jackhammer, thank you.

I was on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack when we finally fled the claustrophobic confines of that establishment. I told Becca that I’d rather sit through a “Twilight” movie marathon than spend a few more minutes there.

As for the next toy shopping trip, I know a perfectly fine toy store right in downtown Worthington that should fit the bill more than nicely. The people that work there are friendly, there’s plenty of neat stuff inside — and I can almost guarantee I’ll walk out without feeling the need to gasp for fresh air, no matter what time of year.

Plus, I know from experience that it’s a great place to grab a little snack after Worthington’s annual Holiday Parade, which incidentally takes place at 6:30 p.m. tonight downtown. The parade is a great way to celebrate our community and its downtown businesses, and the “Spirit of Worthington” Trojan Marching Band and — of course — Santa are always highlights of the event.

I guess tonight’s parade more or less means the Christmas season is officially upon us. That maybe creeps me out a little, but as long as we don’t start having our Holiday Parade in October, I think I’ll manage.

Each year, I can’t help but dread the occasion of setting the clocks back an hour. One big reason for this is the fact that my kids, one nearly 7 and the other 4, usually arise from their slumber at between 4:30 and 5 a.m. following the time switch. Yes, we may have not necessarily lost any sleep the night before thanks to repeating the 1-to-2 a.m. hour, but 4:30 – or, in Grace’s case this time, 4 A.M. – is just way too dang early to start a day on which her parents will inevitably be playing from behind, energy-wise, anyway. 

Fortunately, Bec was kind enough to wake up with Grace – our daughter was successfully stalled until around quarter to five or so – and I got a little extra sleep. But still, I was awoken at around 7 by a cacophony of several sounds, the kids in the midst of a fairly typical brother/sister toy or turf war. It wasn’t long before I had the day’s first cup of coffee in hand.

The biggest challenge, though, with “falling back” each year has nothing to do with the kids, as the super-early-wakeup call is usually a one-day phenomena. No, the biggest problem with the time change is the sun now being down every night I come home from work. We still have another month and a half, too, until Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. I don’t know how Alaskans do it. Waking up in blackness to get ready for work, and then getting home in it, leaves me in a slightly – er – dark frame of mind.

Complaining about the snow and cold of winter is something I attempt not to do. After all, my wife and I made a choice to settle in Minnesota. I may not like blowing snow from our driveway – which seemingly extends from Worthington to Brewster - after an overnight dumping of white, and I’m probably less fond of being instantly accosted by biting wind chills upon venturing outdoors. But, that’s Minnesota, and winter simply comes with the territory. Everyone else has to cope, too.

It’s those first few weeks BEFORE, winter, however, that often require a little bit of an attitude adjustment. Now that the clocks have been set back, winter will inevitably be upon us before we know it. (Heck, there was snow in the forecast last week that thankfully didn’t materalize.) The likelihood of Indian Summer days is rapidly disappearing about as fast as the the November afternoon sun will seemingly vanish from the sky. Today – Sunday – is certainly a pleasant enough day, but the howling wind can’t help but bring to mind the frigid feeling on my face that those same gusts will bring before I know it.  

Thankfully, Grace got me off the couch – and out of my fall-back-day funk – a little while ago. Let’s go outside, she suggested; I’ll ride my bike and you can walk with me. Well, we ended up going all over the neighborhood, and it felt good to be out in the sun and even the wind, which made us work a little harder to maintain our respective brisk paces. It made me think about the fun we’ll have in winter when I pull the kids, running, down the street in the sled, working up a great sweat in the midst of arctic conditions.

Ol’ man winter, bring it on. I think I’m ready for you now.

You may recall I wrote a “Tales” blog last week about my love for travel writing and my desire to chronicle a few road trips of my own.

That got me thinking a bit about some of the trips I’ve taken over the years. Many of them have been a result of family vacations as a youth, but a few good ones have come with me behind the wheel. And, a good portion of those journeys took place between the years 1997 and 2001, when I lived in southwest North Dakota following my relocation from western New York.

That first summer — 1997 — featured a few good treks, some taken by myself and others with a woman I was seeing at the time. Looking back, I wish I had kept a journal then, as many particulars from those trips have blurred together over the years. I guess I was more interesting in enjoying the experience of a road trip than preserving a memory of it.

There are a couple of getaways that easily stand out from that summer, though. One involves a trip to Joe, Montana.

Joe Montana, the person, was — of course — one of the all-time-great NFL quarterbacks, winning four Super Bowl championships with the San Francisco 49ers over the course of his 14 seasons with the team. Montana went on to finish his career with the Kansas City Chiefs — and that’s where Joe, Montana, the community comes in.

The year before my North Dakota move, in The New Yorker magazine, I came across a fascinating article I’ve now been able to locate online. Published in the May 20, 1996, issue, “The Unlamented West” (written by Jonathan Raban) details the always-unglamorous eastern Montana way of life, made possible in part by American railroads essentially selling settlers a false bill of goods. Early in the piece, the author writes of Ismay, Mont.: “The railroad moved into Montana like Caesar marching through Gaul, freely inventing the land it occupied as it went along. … The president of the railroad, Albert J. Earling, had two daughters, Isabel and May. The girls’ names were fused to produce Ismay, which sounds modern and tripping on the tongue, although someone might have warned the company that it could, sometime in the far future, be vulnerable to the addition of a spray-painted initial ‘D.’”

Dismay — er, Ismay — therefore didn’t have a lot to lose in 1993, when a Kansas City radio station called soon after Montana’s trade to Chiefs. Would the community consider changing its name to Joe? A vote from the population-22 city soon made it official: Ismay would be Joe, for the 1993 football season at least.

The temporary name change apparently did a little good. Thanks to proceeds from Joe, Montana, memorabilia, a new fire station got built. And in 1997, when the “city” (a term I’m using extremely loosely) was again Ismay, the merchandise was still being offered upon my visit.

I would be remiss in not mentioning the trip itself to Joe. The westward drive along Interstate 94 from Dickinson, N.D., to Glendive, Mont., lasts about an hour and a half, and features beautiful Badlands vistas in the Medora, N.D., area. Glendive itself is nothing spectacular, though I would highly recommend Makoshika State Park for camping and remarkable views and hiking opportunities. During one trip in Makoshika, I played a round of Frisbee golf with a guy picking up all kinds of fossils all the while as we traversed the rugged stone-filled Badlands of the park.

From Glendive, one has to proceed along a series of gravel roads of varying conditions for a good hour or so before reaching Joe/Ismay. On a dry summer’s day, this proved to be no problem for my ’86 Chevy Nova, but in other weather I might have run into trouble. Nevertheless, upon reaching Joe, there’s not really much to see, with the exception of a few scattered structures, some “Joe” signage and the new fire hall.

Inside — when I was there, anyway — there were a couple of folks more than willing to share the town’s story. (It was evident that recent tourism had been extremely minimal.) I seem to remember getting some complimentary cookies and pop, and purchasing a “Don’t pass up Joe, Montana” T-shirt complete with an illustration of the legendary quarterback. There were still plenty in stock.

As it was the Fourth of July, I was invited to stay for the community’s holiday celebration later that day. “And, who knows, maybe even Joe Montana himself will show up?” But the football Hall-of-Famer hadn’t visited during its “Joe” era, and almost certainly would never show now. I gave my thanks, took a few pictures around town and left.

Still, if you’re the type of person who enjoys kitsch, are out in eastern Montana and have some extra time on your hands — why not pass up Joe? After all, it’s tough to beat pleasant conversation and free cookies.