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Didja ever have a song you hear on the radio that instantly takes you back to a moment in time?

Do you still listen to the radio?

When I listen to the “Oldies Station” I would say nearly 50% of the songs bring back a moment, a time in a place, a memory I associate with the song.

Sometimes the association is rather abstract.

Take for example the connection between High School football two a day practices and the song by Queen called, “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

Let’s set the DeLorean for a hot August summer on a football field in Chicago’s northwest side.

Back in the day, two a day football practices in August were a macho way get your ass in shape via drills, sprints and head on hits not dissimilar to physical torture. There was no concussion protocol. They actually called one of the drills “head-on tackling.”

Practice began in the gym with a speech about the goals for practice that day.

On day one, Coach Seevers made it clear that when we left that gym and exited to the adjacent football field, we were to “SPRINT when you see those goal posts. SPRINT when you see those goal posts.”

He pronounced it Spreeent

We then were to SPRINT to the north goal posts and run in position awaiting our next stage of the two-a-day gauntlet.  While running in position, Coach would arrive yelling in a loud borderline squeaky tenor voice, “READY READY.” Then he’d blow a whistle and we’d jump to the side and back to the front.

“READY READY.” He’d blow the whistle again and we’d jump to the side and back to the front.  We’d repeat this five thousand times until we were ready ready to drop before even starting practice.

Which brings us back to that Queen Song. Here’s the Official video in case you’ve forgotten it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zO6D_BAuYCI

At about the 1:45 mark the lyrics go like this:

I gotta be cool, relax, get hip
And get on my track’s
Take a back seat (ah hum), hitch-hike (ah hum)
And take a long ride on my motorbike
Until I’m ready ready Freddie

SEE! There it is, “ready ready Freddie”

READY READY

Bang, I’m looking for goal posts to sprint to. I’m sprinting in place waiting for a whistle.  I’m transported in time to two a day practices on a hot August morning. As opposed to a Hot August Night, Neil Diamond. Brother Love’s traveling salvation show … But that’s another story for another time, if you’re ready ready.

FOOTNOTE: Cover photo is the actual site of the goalposts to sprint to.

Sometimes you want it to fly.  Other times, you want it to stand still.

Sometimes it goes by in the blink of an eye.  Other times, it drags, like hauling a load up a hill.

Yet, it never changes. It is a constant. And at the end, you always want it.

It is always there, ever moving, ever moving.

If you haven’t figured by now, I am referring to time.

We “sprung forward” here last night setting our clocks ahead ONE hour for something called Daylight Savings Time. When you get right down to it, there is no actual “daylight savings.”  The sun just rises later, then likewise sets later, so in reality, we are not actually “saving” any daylight, just displacing the time when the sun sets.

The concept of time has mystified the masses and inspired much music.   Many songs have been written about time.  Here’s some of my favorites:

Time after time.  (If you fall I will catch you … I will be waiting.)

Time in a bottle.  (But there never seems to be enough time …)

Time keeps on slippin slippin slippin into the future.  (Fly like an eagle to the sea.)

Does anybody really know what time it is?  (Does anybody really care?)

Time waits for no one and he won’t wait for me.  (No favors has he.)

Time has come today.  (Which has a rock and roll classic “yeeeeah” at the end.)

Time is on my side. (Yes it is.)

It’s the time of the season for loving.  (Who’s your daddy?)

I hope you had the time of your life (Which is a parenthetical title for Good Riddance.)

TiK ToK (On the clock but the party don’t stop, no. Oh whoa whoa Oh.)

Anything by Morris Day and the Time should count too. O E O E O.

Time is money.  I looked it up and was not totally unsurprised it is a quote from Benjamin Franklin in Advice to a Young Tradesman, Written by an Old One.

There’s a whole news magazine called simply, TIME.

Heck, my font for the draft is Times New Roman.

There is a character named Father Time with a grey beard carrying an hour glass we see from time to time around New Years Eve.  Not sure who Mother Time is but sometimes time CAN be a mother.

I am punctionally challenged and that all goes back to time.  If there was no time I would never be late.

Down time. Up time. Every time. All the time.

There’s more I could say, but I’m running out of time.  But I leave you with one thought, never wish away time in your life, because time is too short.

 

img_3046It started off simply enough. I was on my way to a Super Bowl party and called the host to see if they needed anything.

“Glad you called. Turns out we got a bunch of cheese, but no crackers.”

“I’m on it,” I replied. “I’ll bring some crackers.”

Simple enough it seemed. There were two minor hitches it turned out.

First, the entire town was at the local grocery store picking up last minute items, wings, pizza, chips and beer, lots and lots of beer.

Second, there was nearly an entire aisle of the store devoted to crackers. See cover photo. Who knew?
There were more than just Triscuits, Wheat Thins, Ritz and good old fashioned Saltines.

There were toasted crackers, water crackers, baked crackers, wheat crackers, wheat free crackers, rice crackers, matzo crackers, ground pepper crackers, whole grain crackers, no grain crackers, pretzel crackers and pita crackers.

Then the aberration crackers, Chikin in a basket, Cheeze its, Cheese Nips, Goldfish Crackers, Animal Crackers, Oyster Crackers and Graham Crackers.

I quickly ruled out the Graham family of crackers but my mind was boggled at the selection.

I called the host. “Hey, uh, I’m having trouble finding the crackers,” I lied.

“Not to worry,” he replied. “Just pick up some brew. Billy Bob bopped by with a big box of crackers. That’s what he does. He was just late. Cracker Billy is always good for the crackers on Super Bowl Sunday. “

Now, “Cracker Billy” was a term of endearment for our southern friend. He took the nickname as a source of pride for his long time roots in the Georgia south.

Indeed, before the Braves moved to Atlanta in 1965, the minor league baseball team of the Southern Association was actually called the Atlanta Crackers. The Negro League team was likewise known as the Atlanta Black Crackers. (This is not to be confused with the Chiropractic Society of Atlanta known as the Atlanta Back Crackers. OK, I made that one up. The other names are entirely true.)

In any event, the term “Cracker” as applied to a group of people is tricky. Some, like Billy Bob find it OK. Others find the term offensive. Polly may wanna cracker, but Polly don’t want you to call her a cracker if you get my drift. So, it’s wise to stay away from the term.

So, I was looking in the craft beer aisle which was JUST as mind boggling as the cracker aisle. And there I saw it. Florida Cracker Belgian-style White Ale.

img_3048

Crackers and beer all in a can. Doesn’t get any better. Billy Bob loved it.

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