10/31 - Citizen Marty Rides the Halloween Train
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
I thought I’d write an issue while on the train this morning,
because I know I’ll be a little busy with the boys tonight. Son #1
asked me last night if he could go to a party with some friends;
unfortunately he needs to get his grades up before he can go.
(Something we’ve been talking about for a couple of weeks or so.)
I think he knew my answer and didn’t give me a hard time when I
told him no. I think he’s growing up even more. It’s weird,
sometimes he’ll be just like a little kid and huff and puff and
whine about every issue we talk about, and other times, he seems
to be a gentle young man doing the hard, but right thing. The
family will all go trick or treating, but we’ll see what homework
progress son #1’s made for his party.
Although it’s Halloween, there are very few people wearing
costumes on the train this morning. There’s a girl (probably going
to the University) who is wearing Darth Maul make up on her face,
but wearing a suit, tie, and an old style business hat. I’m not
sure what she’s supposed to be. Maybe a bad boss... There’s also a
girl who’s wearing a red tutu with grey tights. Again, not sure
what she is supposed to be. Me, I’m wearing the same tired black
pants, old short sleeve button down shirt, and working on a
laptop. I’m going as a nerd. Speaking of nerds, I took Justin’s
nerd test yesterday. (You can find it on the yahoo email sight
here) I thought I’d score a little higher
than I did, but I’m a nerd nonetheless. Yeah, I admit I’ve
played D&D once or twice, but that was enough for me. Back to
train stuff; Salt Lake City is a pretty clean town. I hear
comments all of the time about how clean the streets are,
how friendly the people are, and how most things aren’t run
down, etc. etc. I’ve been on the ‘L’ in Chicago before. We rode
from the suburbs downtown several times. I’ve seen some pretty
scary stuff looking out the window of the L in Chicago. So,
they’re right, Salt Lake isn’t that bad. Yet, along the trax train
route, there is graffiti. Not all over the place mind you, but you
can see it if you care to look.
Graffiti and Chicago remind me of when I lived in a part of the
Salt Lake Valley called Kearns. (I’ve heard people say there is no
“bad” part of the Salt Lake Valley to live in, but there are
poorer parts. Kearns, in my humble opinion, is one of them.)
Kearns has some gang problems, and the graffiti to go with it.
When I lived there, my Brother-in-law gave me the knick name of
“Citizen Marty”. The exact reason why is another long story that I
can’t tell here. Anyway, 10 years ago I was on the Kearns town
council. It was an interesting job, but after a year and a half, I
decided politics was not my forte. During that time I was on the
neighborhood graffiti committee. One of the things the county task
force told us, was to make sure and clean up any graffiti quickly,
or it would just happen again and again. Our task force would keep
an eye out and report graffiti as soon as possible so the county
would come and clean it up. Of course, they were always busy and
sometimes took several days.
Within a few blocks of our house, the tagging problem wasn’t bad.
But one day a neighbor of mine two streets down, had a really long
white painted cinderblock wall. Someone tagged her fence early one
Saturday morning. When a few of the neighbors and I gathered
around her fence talking about it, I grabbed a can of white spray
paint and painted over the newly placed artwork. I did a pretty
good job, but my white paint wasn’t the same shade as this
neighbor’s previously painted white wall. She came out about 15
minutes later, and was really upset. Not that her wall got tagged,
but that I had painted her wall a different color than she had.
She told me, in not so pleasant words, that I shouldn’t have
painted her fence.
Enjoy today’s Jokes!
My wife had never been to a baseball game, so I took her to see
the Los Angeles Dodgers one night. Our seats were right behind the
third-base line. At the top of the first inning, the batter hit a
foul ball. Miraculously, I managed to catch it on the fly. As I
sat down, breathless with excitement, my wife turns to me and
says... "That was nice! How many of those do you get a game?"
"It was on this day in 1865 that President Lincoln was shot at
Ford's Theatre by actor John Wilkes Booth. It was also the
beginning of a feud between Republican presidents and actors that
continues 'till this day."
A farmer brought his daughter a little, pot-belly pet pig, which
she called "Stinky" when she played with it out in the yard, but
she called it "Ballpoint" when it was in the sty. "Tell me," he
asked her father, "Why do you have two names for your pig?"
"That's easy," she replied. "Ballpoint is just his pen name."