"Last Song People" 2012

It's December 31st, so you know what that means for the SOTD. The song that was written while being stuck in a harsh winter blizzard after a show in Boulder, Colorado at a bar called Tulagi's.



She's there to guide me...MH

The Truth Unfolds

Last week I posted an article in regards to sequels that needed to be filmed. The number one sequel in my mind was the sequel to the greatest film of my childhood The Goonies. My main point...Our society NEEDS The Goonies more than ever!

That being said, someone had the audacity to question The Goonies and their relevance in today's society. You want proof that our society needs something? You want proof that our society wants something? You need to look no farther than your local bathroom walls.

Check out what I found written on our local Steak and Shake bathroom wall. Read closely...

Need I say more?

Mikey...Time to round up the boys!

That's nice...JM

Sometimes Luck Is What You Make Of It

During this Christmas and holiday season friends and families will get together to eat, exchange gifts, sing songs, share stories and just have fun. One of the ways many friends and families have fun is to play games, whether it be cards or board games. Games are a staple of fun in many a house this time of year. Thinking about this got me to thinking about all the adventures JM and I have had playing cards in our life.

Now let me point out a couple of things about cards (read closely, because I'm about to give away a JMH secret):

1. If JM and I are playing cards, we are playing as a team.
2. If the game isn't a team game, see #1.

Now that you understand the above two rules, let me tell you that JM and I have never lost at cards. It's just that simple, we win at cards. JM and I are very competitive. Now, I know you've heard that before from other people, but let me say it again, JM and I are very competitive.

As close as we are as friends, we are just as passionate about winning. We are pals, but all is fair in love and war and games! We used to routinely get together and play Madden on PS3. It was a tradition, we had to play every time we got together. We were very equally matched, who won usually just depended on who had practiced more before hand or who got lucky on one play. There were never any blow outs. But points lost by didn't matter to the one with the lower score. Losing wasn't an option and things tended to get ugly to the point where controllers weren't safe, TV's weren't safe, the dogs weren't safe, even other friends weren't safe. Whoever lost was not happy. Whoever won couldn't be truly happy because once the game was over the winner felt like they needed to support their friend. It got to the point that we mutually decided to stop the tradition of playing Madden against each other.

So back to playing cards. JM and I have played all sorts of card games, poker, gin rummy, spades (blind nil!), UNO, SkipBo and all sorts of other games that I don't ever remember the names. JM is the real card shark and he usually has to tell me how to play before we get started with most games. I on the other hand have just a few games that I can play well.

We obviously weren't with Madden, but we were smart enough to realize that we couldn't ever play cards against each other, even we were supposed to. So we have always played as a team and if it isn't a team game, see rule #1 again. Now you may be thinking, if it wasn't a team game and both of you are so competitive, how do you decide who is going to win? The answer is simple, we don't. JM and I have never discussed who was going to win. We just knew.

Now some of you may be thinking "that's cheating." JM and I have played cards with a bunch of different people, I dare you to ask any of them to point out one time where we cheated. We have never cheated. Sometimes one of us just has a bad game and sometimes one of us just has incredible luck. It happens.

Some of my favorite times playing cards though are when JM and I play as a team. We are deadly playing as a team. We are so incredible lucky when playing as a team. I will let JM tell the story about one New Year's game of cards where our luck in winning made his brother in law Matt, who is normally the picture of calm, cool and collected, so mad at us that I thought he was literally going to tear the house down. It's one of those moments in JMH history that I will never forget.

Now I can't give away all of our secrets, but if you are ever playing cards with us you may hear the following phrases:

1. I knock.
2. You ain't got no pad hand.
3. My gal is red hot.
4. Your gal ain't doodly squat.
5. Cards with the tards.
6. Are you kidding me?
7. I'm thinking.
8. That's nice.

Now, what those phrases mean will stay between JM and I, it's a sacred code between pals and that's how it will stay, but just know when you hear one of those phrases, you either have already or you are going to lose soon.

Even if it's not reflected in the final score JM and I always win when we are on the same team.

That's my kind of luck...MH

A Good Day Indeed!

Bruce Willis returns as the BEST action hero of Hollywood!  Who else is stoked for the return of John McClane?

Sequels That Need to Be Made

Remember all of the HORRIBLE sequels that were spun out of Hollywood?  Teen Wolf Too...The Sandlot 2...Dumb and Dumberer...Grease 2...and all of the ENDLESS Bring It On flops!  Well what about the sequels that we DESERVE to see?

5.  Freddy Vs. Jason 2...Now I know some of you are thinking...Is he serious?  But come on!  New Line Cinema had the chance to make horror movie history with the first film.  Two icons clashing for the ultimate title of Horror Movie Baddass!  Then, the movie came out and...Eh.  I remember sitting in the theater and the New Line logo hit the screen with a combination of the Nightmare and Friday music, I actually got goosebumps.  Then, when the film was over and the lights came up, I remember thinking, "Is that it?"  Hollywood has a chance to make this right.  Bring in Robert Englund and bring in Kane Hodder.  We do not need to see the Badnews Bears version of Freddy versus a beanpole Jason Voorhies.  We need FREDDY KRUEGER and JASON VOORHIES in a free for all bloodbath!  Heck...Throw in Michael Myers or Ash in there if you need to, but FIX THIS!

4.  The Incredibles II...The first film was, how do I say it, INCREDIBLE!  This was a fabulous Pixar/Superhero flick that had so much potential for more!  Comedy!  Love story!  Action!  Jack Jack! And ultimately...Sam Jackson! Pixar gave us more than one Toy Story, how can they not give us more INCREDIBLES!  The storyline options are endless!  With a Monsters Inc. and Nemo sequel in the works, I can only hope for this dream to become a reality!

3.  Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure III/Ghostbusters III...Again you are screaming at me now yelling, "Jeremy, those franchises did have sequels and they were horrible.  That is exactly right...time to fix what they broke!  I mean come on, the originals for both of these franchises are AWESOME.  Then, Hollywood as it usually does, decides to capitalize on something fantastic and they ruin it.  Now don't get me wrong, I loved Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey and Ghostbusters II, but I really think it was out of loyalty more than anything.  If you watch the original and then the corresponding sequel, the second movies just leave bad tastes in your mouth.  We need more Ted Theodore Logan and Bill S. Preston, Esquire and less STATION!  We need more Murray, Ramis, Aykroyd, and Hudson and less pink mood slime and Viggo!  Give me the threequels that will satisfy my hunger!

2.  Willow II...Hollywood really dropped the ball on this one.  This was Lord of the Rings money making material before Lord of the Rings was even thought about.  Kilmer, Davis, and Ron Howard!  Great characters, great storyline, and great visual effects!  And THE BROWNIES!!!  Can you imagine what one could do with this sequel given the special effects available today?  Willow II must happen, after all has Kilmer been doing anything lately but binge eating?  And Davis, do we really need another Leprechaun movie?  Give me some Willow!

1.  The Goonies II...The BEST movie EVER!  Seriously...Who was not affected by the movie The Goonies?  Kids are still watching it today and it STILL has the same effect on them.  This movie is iconic and holds a special place in my heart.  I remember seeing it in the theater THREE times, which was unheard of to do back then.  Money was scarce and there was no point to go to the movies and waste money and time like that.  The Goonies was no waste!  Adventure and excitement...A children's version of Indiana Jones.  Kids today NEED The Goonies!  Seriously, look back at our youth.  How many went seeking adventure in the woods and used their imagination growing up?  The Goonies helped promote that thematic aspect.  Children today don't use their imagination enough.  They kick back and play video games and play on their phones or tablets.  If thrown into a Goonie adventure they couldn't hack it.  That could be the storyline.  The parents teach the kids what it takes to be a Goonie.  The Goonies II could help save our children and future society!  Where are you Richard Donner and Cindy Lauper when we need you?

So Hollywood...skip the wasted remakes and the sequels that nobody cares about.  Give us what we want and what we need!  And if you can't figure it out...Give ME a call...

That's nice...JM

Merry Christmas

Just what I always wanted! MH

A Very Merry MetalliChristmas!

Nothing says Merry Christmas like Metallica and Christmas Lights!

TOTD

John McClane: 'Haven't you got any Christmas music?'






Argyle: 'Man, this IS Christmas music!'

SOTD - In The End

Who will remember...MH

A JMH Thank You

JM and I would like to extend a sincere thanks to all of you who read this blog. This blog was originally conceived and intended, as most JMH things are, as a private personal endeavor...an inside joke for the two of us and our close personal friends. All 5 of them!

It's turned out to be so much more. The 4th quarter of 2012 has been our largest traffic quarter to date and the thanks goes to you the fans. Without you this blog wouldn't be near as much fun. So to say thanks we've added a "Follow by Email" Link. Simply add your email address and anytime a new post is added you will automatically be emailed. Add yours today!

Looking forward to 2013 and so long to the Mayans...MH

Chapter 5.6 Panty Bomb!

Anyway, I know that I went off on some deep of task timeline here, so back to the adventures of JMH. We were at the verge of discovering the historic safe. The safe that had plagued our childhood dreams growing up filling our heads with some crazy conception that we would have some buried treasure on our hands. It sort of reminded me of the movie The Goonies when I saw and viewed it for the first time. Though I knew deep down that there would be no huge pirate ship in my back yard creek, I still went looking for it. There was still some ounce of hope even after I did not find anything. To this day there still is an ounce of hope that I will find it somehow, somewhere. The same thing went for that safe that was supposed to be in the attic of this house. Deep down inside I knew it was not going to be there, but Matt and I just kept searching and searching.


Standing at the top of that staircase in the Bird House I was overcome by emotion. Everything was leading up to this one moment in time. It was either going to pay off for us or we would go down in flames and defeat. I looked around the top of that attic, my eyes were adjusted quit well to the dimly lit area. My eyes swept the area going back and forth and back and forth looking for any sign of the legendary beloved safe. Even though it was dark and dusty, I knew that the safe was not there. Matt was right. We had fallen victim to another urban legend and story. It was not true. We had failed.

We left the Bird House that day with a sense of satisfaction though we had been defeated. Even though we had not found the legendary safe and had fallen short in becoming rich quick, we had gained two things from our adventure. One, we had put the legend of the safe to rest. Everyone had taken the time out to talk about the legend and even took the time out to drive by the location, but no one to our knowledge had had the guts to go into the questioned location and seek out and see if any part of the legend itself held water. We had done that and had done it successfully. Second, we had grown stronger as friends. We had been thrown into a stressful situation and what we thought could have been a life or death situation and come out ahead and in one piece. We even had the video itself to prove and show to everyone. We still get that tape out from time to time to watch it. Though vulgar in language, it still is fun to watch and as funny now as it was then.

Now even though we had failed at this historic quest, it did not prevent us from going out and trying to find other supernatural and crazy things. We checked out another ancient house near our homes once that was surrounded in corn fields. We had to park Matt’s truck at the time in a nearby ditch and walk through miles of corn to get through to the location of the structure. I was wearing some cheap version of a Fedora Indiana Jones style hat and I was taking on the role as the legendary explorer. Matt was following behind me with the video camera calling me Indiana. I kept yelling at him that I was not Indiana Jones, but Illinois Mays. He got a kick out of making fun of me over the course of this time period.

We searched this home not really going to it for any purpose. There was no story about a lost treasure nor were there any real tales about anything supernatural happening on the property itself. We just always passed the place and thought it looked cool and would be neat to check out the inside of the place before something happened to it.

It was a common thing in our neck of the woods for abandoned structures such as this house to be there one minute and gone the next. The common way these abandoned places would disappear was by fire. A great deal of time the fires were never explained but everyone knew it had to be done by some foolish teenagers exploring the homes and performing séances or using candles of some kind. These tragic events happened to both old homesteads of my great grandmother. One was the house I discussed earlier with the piano. It was a common hot spot for local teens looking for some ghost in the attic part of the house. Someone even went upstairs and poured fake blood on some old clothes to contribute to the effect. This house mysteriously burnt down one evening and we never figured out what caused it. The other home was actually the one my great grandmother lived in, the home we had Thanksgiving Dinner in every year. She eventually had to move out after years of living on her own after my great grandfather passed away. She went to live with her daughter, my grandmother, in a trailer in Woodlawn leaving her house vacant. Over the years, people continued to invade the property stealing all sorts of items. Eventually one evening, a cop of some sort was passing by on the interstate and saw lights from a vehicle pulling out of the property. He knew the property itself to be vacant so he called my father who lived right up the road. By the time my father got down there, the whole building was in flames and eventually burnt completely except for the chimney. Later, evidence was found during the investigation of the fire that revealed someone had been using the kitchen sink to cook Meth. The nerve of some people. My great grandfather probably rolled over in his grave when this happened.

Matt and I never took part in such things as trespassing with the intent to destroy, it really angered us when things did take place because it gave all of us teenagers a bad name. Matt and I had always wanted to look in the house beyond the corn so one day we had decided we were brave enough to attempt it and decided to follow through.

What did we find you ask? Pretty much the same thing as we found in the confinements of the Bird House except for the crazed animal…pretty much nothing. We did encounter some cool old magazines in the attic and saw a weird hole in the side of the attic wall that was enveloped in complete darkness. It actually sounded as if someone or something was in that darkness breathing. We did not stick around very long to find out either way. We did have fun once again and enjoyed each other’s company. Matt did a crazy thing with the camera each time I turned around. When I could not see him and had my back to him, he would take his hand and act like his hand was an animal and it was pecking the back of my head. When I would turn to look at him, say something to him, or simply respond to something he had said, he would back up and act like nothing had even happened. Pretty childish huh? Pretty funny on video! I did not have a clue that he was doing it until I watched the film for myself. Other than that, nothing exciting happened to us, no life changing events or attacks by supernatural creatures or beings.

From there, Matt and I sought out some ancient and old barns. While there, we found some old run down bikes. Not just a few, but a great deal! It was almost as if it was some sort of bicycle graveyard there. It was a little freaky.

The other thing involved Matt climbing to the top of a hay loft in one of the barns. Matt has an extreme fear of heights and for some reason he decided he needed to check out the hay loft in the barn for anything out of the ordinary. Again, nothing was found, but it was the event in getting Matt down that the excitement set in.

Realistically, the loft was only about eight feet off the ground. I could stand underneath the loft and jump up and reach the loft itself. Well, to Matt, if it is eight feet, you might as well be talking about one hundred feet off the ground. When he was up there walking around and throwing old hay on me and the camera, it was fun to him and an okay experience. When it was time to get down, it became a feat of impossibility.

He sat over the edge and yelled at me to go get help that there was no way for him to get safely to the ground. I kept trying to get him to simply jump ,but again, it was if he was over one hundred feet in the air and the feat was an impossible one. I stood back and watched himself wrap his legs around the wooden banister and lower himself slowly down. I felt bad for laughing but it was just so damn hilarious! I could not contain the emotion of humor that was overwhelming me at the time. And you know what was the best part of the situation? I got the whole thing on tape. To watch and enjoy over and over and over and over. Some day I want to put all of these events on a DVD that way I can pause this specific incident for everyone to get a close view of his face of fear. I am chuckling to myself now thinking about it. Ha, Ha!

The final event that stands out in my mind during our supposed ghost hunting involves Matt and his Panty Bomb. We had left the barn and the one hundred foot high drop and went up the road to the Underpass. This was a well known location in the area that we had grown up in. Everyone in the area had sought this place out to drive through at night because like any other underpass at night, it is pretty dark and scary. Besides that, all sorts of stories had grown up in the area about it being some portal to Hell or something crazy like that.

Well, Matt and I knew better because we had been in the thing numerous times and never encountered the Devil or a simple demon for that matter. What we did encounter and view was all of the spray painted artwork that graced the inside and outside of the Underpass. It was at this underpass that Matt decided he would climb up to the top and stand in front of the interstate for a video shot. Not wanting to look like the idiot myself, I supported his decision and stood back to tape the event at hand.

He climbed slowly, again taking his time because the situation involved a matter of heights. This was a great deal taller than the barn he had just come down from and I do not think he realized that until he got half way up the incline. Besides, the camera was rolling and he did not want to look bad on film. Who does for that matter?

He climbed and I taped. When he got to the top, he stopped, turned around and paused to contemplate his accomplishment. That was when I realized the camera was not on. I did not have the heart to tell him and just continued to act as if I was taping. I could have stopped right there and started filming for real, but I knew Matt would notice and the fact I missed his great assent would hurt his feelings. So I just decided to play it cool.

When he got done taking the time to revel in his assent to the top of the mountain, or should I say to the top of Underpass Hill, Matt glanced down onto the side of the road. Now, you all have driven down the interstate at some time or another and either done one of two things. One, you threw some sort of odd object or trash out of your window. Two, seen some sort of odd object or trash outside of your window. Now, Matt was in the similar circumstance here, but he was more up close and personal. He was basically standing on the side of the interstate at that moment when his eyes caught something odd on the road before him. A pair of pink panties!

Now, I really can not say what in the heck impulsed Matt to stop everything in the world around him and pick up those nasty things, but he did. He did not even seem to give it a second thought. He noticed them, said, “What’s this?”, then bent down and picked them up standing up in a full standing position holding them up to his face for closer inspection. At first I thought he had found some sort of prize or money even, the way he was entranced by the item in his hands. I took the time to take my eye away from the camera and fake videoing taping to get a closer view at what my friend had in his hand. I was extremely taken aback by what I saw. Matt was really an intelligent individual, he knew better than to pick up some stranger’s underwear up, especially off the side of the interstate.

“Look!” he said as he began to fling it in the air. “Look what I found!” For a minute I got the image from the movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers. This was not my friend. Matt did not act this way. Someone, maybe in the loft of the barn we had just come out of, had switched places with Matt and taken over his life. Someone who looked like Matt but sure as heck did not act like Matt.

“What in the hell are you doing?” I called out to him. That was when he started flinging his arms uncontrollably and began to dance around. Again, I was worried he was having some sort of seizure or something. What in the heck was going on? “Matt!” I called out to him trying to get his attention. He stopped and looked in my direction. That was when I think he decided to join me back in the realm of reality.

“Jeremy!” he said holding out the under wear from his body like some sort of unwanted prize your dog would bring into the house and place in your lap after you let it out to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. “There are ants all over this thing!”

“Well get rid of it!” I yelled.

I saw Matt then realize how stupid he was being for hanging on to the object. Why was he doing it? Who is to say. Even after the fact and talking with him about the moment, he still can not give me or himself a rationale that makes sense for what he was doing up there holding ant infested panties that belonged to a complete stranger. Maybe he just got caught up in the moment. I mean, figuratively, haven’t we all been on the side of an interstate somewhere in our lifetime and held up a pair of ant infested panties? Well, okay, now that I put that into words on my computer screen it does not seem that I should have shared that phrase just that way, but I think you all get what I am getting act. Right? Moving on….

Matt moved to the side of the edge of the overpass looking over the road below. I moved closer because in the far reaches of the back of my mind I was beginning to fear that he was contemplating jumping or something stupid. Ordinarily this thought would not have crossed my mind, but ordinarily Matt would not pick up a pair of strange panties either. I was almost underneath him when he began to throw his arms out again wildly.

“Move back!” He screamed. “Get back!” I did as I was told and I watched as he held the pink panties out from his chest dangling them over the road below. Then at the top of his lungs he screamed. He screamed two words that still haunt me to this day. He screamed, “Panty Bomb!” Then he let the underwear go and it fell to the street below. Looking up at him, he was viewing the underwear on the road with a smile of satisfaction. I remember thinking how weird this moment was. Then I thought I would mess with him for a moment. I looked off to the right of the interstate and raised my voice.

“Cop!” I said pointing to the right even though there was not a cop in sight. “There’s a cop coming!”

Matt almost tripped over himself as he made his way to the edge of the bank. As he stumbled, he took the time to look in the direction that I had indicated the protector of peace was coming from. Not seeing anything, he then realized what I was trying to do. “Cop? That ain’t no freaking cop!” He then slowed his pace to a casual walk down the side of the embankment and then punched me in the arm. I moved back not wanting his hands on me until he had the opportunity to carefully and properly have them sanitized.

“Did you get all of that on tape?” He asked. I looked at him and then I knew that I could not lie.

“I am sorry.” I said. “I forgot to hit record.”

He looked at me and then looked back at the overpass. “You mean you missed my Panty Bomb?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I just did not have the heart to tell you.”

He shook his head. “Then get the camera ready.” He was making his way towards the underwear. “We are going to do it again.

And we did.

Needless to say, the Panty Bomb and the cop joke did not have the same affect this time, but we still watch this video with fondness and think about the joyous times as we went out searching for the supernatural, the unknown, and ghosts. Though we did not encounter any of these things per say, we did find something that a great deal of people spend their whole lives searching for. We found each other. Over the course of these events we began to get closer than we had ever been before. Little did I know that we would even grow to become even closer.

Chapter 5.5 The Safe

But the story of the safe reminds me of something that happened to my father and I while we were out messing around.


`Before I got to the age that I was more of a nuisance than fun to be around, my dad and I use to go exploring in the woods surrounding our home. My great grandfather use to tell us all sorts of tales about things in the woods and hidden treasure and my dad and I would just get our coats and boots on and head out into the woods to see what we could find. One time my father and I were walking down through the area just east of our land. This area had a huge creek that eventually fed into Rend Lake. This creek had all sorts of tales surrounding it from a snake island that a bunch of snakes lived on to a ghostly girl that protected an old iron bridge further up the creek, but Dad and I never encounter anything weird until one fateful afternoon.

We had been messing around the area looking for some mushrooms when we came to the bridge. At this time, the bridge was an ancient wooden bridge that was basically made of some old wooden planks spread out across some iron beams. Two wooden planks ran down the middle of the bridge, they were designed for the wheels of vehicles to drive on since there were holes of all kinds throughout the ancient structure itself. We use to love going down to this bridge and imagine a great troll lived under there or we would stand on the side of it, hang over and throw stones and rocks of all shapes and sizes into the water below watching the splash and rippled effects. Well, Dad and I had went to the bridge that day to just look around and pick up my mother some Blue Bell flowers. These flowers are in extreme abundance in this area and they were bright blue and actually looked like bells hanging from the top of the plant. My mother and grandmother use to love these things and whenever anyone was in that area and they were in bloom, they would pick as many as they possibly could. We had a goal of picking some for both my grandmother and mother that day, but we never really got the opportunity to do so.

I was standing on the edge of the bridge looking down into the creek below. It had been an extremely dry Spring that year and the creek was on the verge of drying up almost completely. The once filled waters and edges of the creek had been dissolved from the rays of sunshine and been replaced by formations of sand bars. It was while looking at these newly formed structures and thinking about what treasures may lie within them that were normally covered in water that I saw the object of question. There down below me sticking half out of the deepest portion of the creek appeared the edge of some sort of metal object. I slung myself over the side of the railing a little more to remove myself from the blocked view caused by the railing of the bridge. Peering down closer I could make out some details. Details that I had been unable to make from the position that I had been in prior. I saw a knob, what appeared to be like a tumbler on my locker at school, some sort of lever next to it. I immediately had a thought of what the object could be.

It was a safe!

“Dad!” I screamed as loudly as I could. “Dad get over here quick! I found something in the water in the creek!”

My Dad was a little ways up the road inspecting a small wooded section of the creek for some mushrooms. My grandfather, his father in law, use to farm the area and would come home every year with trash bags upon trash bags filled with mushrooms. He would never tell anyone where he had found the stuffed area, but often would say it was on Grandma Hartman’s land somewhere. He died before anyone ever got the secret from him and it drove my dad to the edges of sanity. He continued to search and search every square inch of my great grandmother’s land seeking the Holy Grail of mushroom patches, but never found it. To this day, no one in my family has ever found Grandpa Champ’s golden area. That is one mystery still plaguing our inner imaginations.

“What is it?” He called out as he took a few steps towards me ready to get away from his hide and seek project involving the legendary mushroom patch.

I did not want to answer him because I knew he would not believe me if I did yell it out. “Just come over and look.” As a father myself, my daughter will yell at me all the time to come and look at something. Being new to the whole father thing, I would run over immediately expecting something out of the ordinary or really cool. Most of the time it was a let down, but it excited my daughter to no end. Now I have learned to ask what the item is before killing myself to get there. I guess I had done this to my father a few times by the way he was acting at that moment.

“This better be good,” he said as he stepped onto the bridge with his hands in his pockets. “I think I was finally closing in on that secret patch of you grandfathers.” I knew better than this, but I did not want to hurt his ego nor the moment that was transpiring.

“Oh, I think you will like it once you see what I am talking about,” I said as I moved back across the bridge and to the area that I had been standing before. I leaned back over the bridge like I was doing when I had made my discovery and then I motioned for my father to do the same. Before I pointed the item out to him, I took one quick glance to make sure it was still there. Yep, sure enough. A safe in my creek. Everything was normal. I took the opportunity to just point in its direction rather than make the announcement verbally. They always say actions speak louder than words and I thought a visual of the object for the first time would be more of an impact rather than just telling him. I pointed.

My dad turned his head and followed the direction of my finger down into the water below. I watched his face waiting for the change to come, from bothersome with the fact that I had taken him away from his mushroom quest, to extreme surprise with the fact that we may have just made a discovery that could change the course of our family’s life forever. I watched and waited. Then the change came.

It was not what I thought it would be. His eyebrows turned inward and he looked perplexed rather than extremely excited. I started to say something, but he spoke up first cutting me off.

“What in the hell is that?” He asked as he moved over the railing a little more and leaned in towards the water.

“It looks like a safe to me.” I said knowing that it sounded ridiculous, but the evidence was right in front of me. As far as I knew, my eyes had never lied to me. Not intentionally anyway.

“A safe?” he said. I could tell by the tone in his voice that he thought I was a complete idiot. Then, however, he made a liar out of me. “You know, I think you are right.” He pulled himself back on the bridge and moved across to the other side. “I can make out what looks like a latch opener and a tumbler.” His voice was changing a bit from puzzled now to interested and almost excited. He was making his way to the edge of the end of the bridge and to the embankment that went down next to the water. I followed along beside him not wanting to miss a moment of the action at hand.

“Do you think it really is one?” I asked. I already knew it was. In my heart of hearts I knew it was a safe and there was money inside. Lots of cold hard cash. I of course was a romantic, while my father on the other hand was more of a realist.

“I am not sure,” he said as he made his way down to the embankment and near the edge of the water. “I am not sure why a safe would have been dumped out here in our creek. Unless…” he paused for a moment and I could see he was deep in thought. “Unless it came down the creek during one of those floods earlier this spring. The water level was high enough and the current was strong enough to move a small car. I guess it could be possible.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked my excitement beginning to get the best of me.

My dad did not respond, he was watching his footing as he descended down to the edge of the water. When he got there, he looked back at the area of land behind him. It was as if he was looking for something. I was not sure what it was until I saw his hand drop into the waist high weeds behind him. His hand and arm were out of view for a short period of time and then they both resurfaced. Within his hand was what he was looking for. A long wooden stick.

“What are you doing?” I yelled from the bridge area. I too was beginning to make my way to the edge of the bank for a closer look. My father was really paying me no attention at this moment. His focus and all attention was on the safe looking object in the water below. It was viewing this intensity on his face and actions that I began to realize how true the situation may have been. Dad was always a serious no nonsense kind of guy. If there had been no chance of this thing being a safe at all, he would have easily dismissed the object and gone back to searching for the fabled mushroom patch of my grandfathers. He had,however, abandoned that which was important for him to seek out the object below. He had taken the time to look at it closer from the bridge area, had taken the time out to seek an object such as the stick to poke it with for more information, and had taken the time to move down close to the water, where he was now. These signs were pretty good evidence that he was starting to feel the object could be what it looked like after all.

“Come over here Jeremy,” he called to me. I did not waste any time and headed down the bank of the creek and stood behind my father awaiting further instructions.

“Yes.” I said trying to disguise the eagerness in my voice. I did not want to sound too excited about what was going on.

“I am going to lean out over the water and see if I can tap the edge of the thing. Try to get a feel for what it could be made of. I want you to hold my arm here so that way I do not fall into the water. You have to anchor me. Can you do that?”

I nodded to my father. “Yes. I sure can.”

“Okay. Here we go. Now whatever you do, do not let go. I have already taken one shower today after I got up this morning. I do not think I need a bath as well.” I smiled. I knew deep down inside that he was joking but I also knew that if I failed him and let go at the wrong time and he did fall into the water and got wet, I would definitely be the one paying for the mistake.

My dad reached out with his arm and I took hold. I leaned back forcing all of my weight on the backs of my legs. I felt sort of awkward holding my dad’s hand, something that I had not done since I was little. His hands were rough and calloused from years of hard work and labor. Besides being a policeman for years, my father had also worked several different types of odd jobs as well. He had hauled trash and things for pay, had worked on the railroad, and had even worked at a former fast food restaurant Burger Chef. I held onto that hand and arm as hard as I could, but kept my eyes focused on my dad as he extended his arm containing the other stick as he stretched out across the water.

He stretched and stretched. For a moment I thought there was going to be no way he would be able to reach the item within the water. He pulled his body back to the bank and readjusted himself. I held tighter and he turned to me and nodded his approval. He then stretched his body back out over the creek. I pulled back with all of my might. For a moment I thought I was slipping in the mud. Visions of both my father and myself flying out into the cold creek water filled my head. I held stronger and harder. I was not going to let that happen. Not today.

He extended, further this time and I watched as the stick sway in the wind. He began to tap the stick across the water toward the object. Closer. Closer. Closer. Then when I thought he would not be able to get close enough, the stick made contact. A thud came first as the stick barely touched the side. My father brought the stick up as high as he could then dropped it upon the object below him. A thud echoed across the creek area. My father turned to me with a smile on his face.

“That sounded like metal!” He said. I nodded. I really did not get a good position on the sound itself so I was not sure what it sounded like. I saw my dad bring the stick back for another strike. I decided to pay closer attention this time.

Thud.

Indeed! I then agreed with my father’s take on the situation. It did sound like metal. A metal that was somewhat hollow sounding. Whatever the object was, it was hollow. Maybe that meant there was something inside it after all. Maybe that meant it was a safe after all! My dad used his weight and my anchored body to pull himself away from the creek and back to the bank. He set the stick down and looked at me. I could tell he was excited by our find and discovery.

“So what now?” I asked him.

“Here,” he pushed me back away as he headed up the bank of the creek into the weeds. He began to scan the ground as if he was seeking out something of great importance. I saw the serious focus on his face so I knew it was not a good idea to interrupt him in his search. He suddenly stopped and bent down into the weeded area. Apparently he had discovered what he was looking for. He stood up and I saw what he had. A larger stick, or should I say log, was sitting in the palm of his hand. A look of triumph was upon his face as he carried the log to where I was and moved himself down to the edge of the creek. I followed behind him.

“Do you need me to hold onto you again?” I asked just wanting to make sure I was playing my role properly at the right time. He shook his head in response.

“No,” he said as he moved to the edge of the creek. “I am not staying on the side of the creek this time. I have to get closer. Close enough to tell if that thing is what we think it is.”

“How are you going to do that?” I asked.

My dad turned to me, smiled, and then pointed to a small log that was sitting in the middle of the creek. It was a few feet out from the bank of the creek itself and it extended out just beyond the area where our beloved safe was stationed. “I am going to walk across that thing.”

“What?” I said not realizing I had said it out loud before it was too late and audible. “You are crazy! You are going to fall in that creek.”

Again my dad shook his head no. He had a plan, he always had a plan of some kind in that head of his. It did not work all of the time, but at least he was prepared for either victory or defeat. He left nothing to chance.

“I have it all planned out,” he said.

See. What did I tell you?

He moved the big log/stick object into the air and waved it a bit. “I am going to use this log to help balance myself across the water. When I get out far enough, I should be able to bend down and actually touch that thing. That is the only way we are going to be able to tell for sure or not. I have to actually see what it feels like in order to guess what it is made of.”

I nodded. Seemed like a sensible plan…for a teenager. Not really something for a fourty plus year old man who had passed his athletic prime a long time ago and was slightly over weight. I did not make the reasonings behind my objects vocal and I just nodded my head again. “Sounds good.”

My dad smiled. I watched as he took the large wooden object and placed it out as far away from his body into the swirling creek water as he could. He then tested it to see if the item would hold his body weight. It held. After he was satisfied with the result, dad pushed off from the edge of the bank like some awkward pole vaulter and swung himself toward the floating log. I wanted to close my eyes or at least cover them. This was my dad, my hero growing up during childhood. I did not want to see him fall and make a fool of himself here. I was not sure that if I really saw such an event taking place if I would ever recover from such a sight. I would see the incident replay itself over and over in my mind forever. But I watched, because deep down inside, even though I wanted him to make it safely, part of me wanted him to fall in too. Why? Because it would be funnier than hell, that is why.

But my dad survived. He landed upon the log a little shakey, but he did land where he was wanting to be. He threw his weight forward upon the stick and centered his body weight and location. He looked a little odd, slightly uncomfortable. Here he was a six foot one inch man bending over completely on a log in the middle of a creek with a large wooden log for support. I knew that if anyone would drive by on the bridge at that moment that he would get honked at, laughed at, and would never be able to live it down. I probably would have had to of run off and hide in the bushes while the fiasco took place. But it did not happen so I will continue with what did happen.

I watched as my dad continued to shimmy across the log towards the area of the supposed safe. He reminded me of my great grandfather who had been stricken with Polio at a young age and had to walk hunched over with the use of a cane. My father looked like this as he would move the stick over a little, pause to check for his balance, then move his body to this new location. Then move the stick over again, pause to check for his balance, then move his body to this new location. He even looked as if he had pain on his face, or maybe it was just concentration. Anyway, the whole distance was only about six to seven feet, but the process itself made it seem that it was over a mile away. I could even see sweat beads forming on my father’s brow.

Then he was there, exactly where he wanted to be. I watched as he reached out for the object in the water knowing that this was the moment of truth. Did I really want to know if it was what I thought it was? Would my life be any more complete if it truly was a safe or just a cardboard box that looked like a safe? I knew not the answer to these questions…wait a minute. Who am I kidding here. Of course I needed to know. And would my life be any more complete? Hell yeah it would! Especially if there was treasure in that there safe!

My dad leaned toward the safe. I leaned toward the water. My dad leaned. I leaned. He stuck the piece of wood underneath the object and gave it a shove. It budged a bit, but not a lot. Then he stuck the stick deeper into the mud sand mixture that was the bottom of the creek. He gave the stick another shove. I watched as my dad strained and nothing. Then, as if by magic, the safe began to move from its position within the creek. It was a moment that if it had happened within a movie, all sorts of triumphant 1980’s music would be going off in the background. Though there was no music going off, I was yelling with excitement. I thought it would be good for my dad to motivate him, plus I was generally excited by the situation. This was awesome. And just like anything else that seems to be going the right way in my life, the air was let out of my balloon.

My dad decided that his struggle with the object had gone on long enough. He decided it was now or never and he needed to give the item one last push. I could tell that he was growing weary and getting tired. There was really nothing that I could do but yell out of support. I continued to do that. Then I watched as my dad lowered his body down and seemed to prep himself for one last big struggle. I held my breath as he held his breath. We both knew deep down inside that this moment was either going to pay off huge or we would both suffer the consequences, my father getting the worst of it.

I watched. I still remember the moment just like it was yesterday and even though everything happened in real time, I remember it as if it was in slow motion. I saw my dad stick the wood into the mud, I watched his eyes bulge as the weight of the safe came free of the water, and I saw the safe rise into the air as it totally broke the surface of the liquid and its confined area. That’s when I saw the object for the first time as it was meant to be seen. Black metal front. A tumbler. A rod to open the thing itself. Four metallic pegs descending from its bottom. It was what we thought it was. It definitely was a safe! I screamed out in triumph as I watched my dad’s face do the same. Then it happened.

I am not sure exactly how it happened, whether or not my father lost his footing or just simply the weight of the object itself was just too much for him to handle, but it does not really matter. It happened. First the stick underneath the safe gave way and went plunging into the water. There was a sickening cracking noise as the wood broke in half and descended into the murkey abyss. The safe was soon to follow as all of the revealed parts followed the wooden structure into the creek as well. Then my father. He flung and slung his arms around wildly trying to brace his position and prevent himself from falling into the water. He failed miserably. His body tipped backwards upon the wooden structure within the water and he plummeted into the water backwards.

Growing up, my dad always would take us swimming in the summer. His schedule as a cop was not always the best, but it did give us some freedom and luxury when spending some time at home when we were out of school. My mom worked in a doctor’s office and worked every day of the week from usually eight in the morning until five at night so she was not around much during the summer days. My father was not unless he was working midnights, then he was at home from around seven in the morning until seven at night. During this time period a normal person would try and sleep as much as possible, and do not get me wrong, my dad did sleep some of the time. But he did take some time out of his sleeping schedule to spend with us kids. He usually loved to take us swimming when it was warm out and his favorite way to enter any type of pool or body of water was doing the old classic Nestea Plunge. He would simply fall backwards with his arms out just like the actors, actresses, or models would do on the commercials on the television sets at home. We kids used to love watching him do this and would be yelling at him well ahead of the time at the pool and such wanting to make sure that he was going to do it for us. To this day I know that he was not the reason for doing it, he probably hated how doing it caused his nose to be filled with chlorine infested waters, because I have copied his plunge many years later. But he did it because he loved us kids. This time however, at the creek it looked like the old Nestea Plunge, but it lacked the feeling. He was not doing it for my benefit at all, he was doing it because he screwed up!

My dad erupted from the water as he was gasping for air. Though it was the spring time, the water was still a little cold as the nights were still chilly in the area. I could tell then was not the time to make some sort of classic joke about the position he was in. I could tell that he was not very happy at that moment so I pretty much bit my tongue. He made his way toward the edge of the bank where I was standing. I backed away a bit to give him some room. My father was the type of individual who was extremely loving, but you really did not want to get on his bad side. Now it seemed was pretty sure a bad side moment. I stared back at the safe which had now sunk back into the sand and mud mixture. It looked as if it was overcome by a sad feeling. It had been discovered and thought it was about to bet set free, only to be sent back into its imprisonment moments later.

“What about the safe?” I asked without even thinking about it. My father looked at me with crazy eyes and a glare that could freeze the Sun.

“What about the safe?” he snapped. Okay, I was right. Now was not a very good time to bring up my concerns for the inantimate object in the water behind him. “I am a little wet here.”

“I know dad, but there might be something important in there!”

“I need to get home and get my clothes changed,” he responded. I could tell he was doing his best to fight of the shivers that were beginning to overcome him. “After I get changed and warmed back up then we will see how we are going to handle this safe situation.”

“But what if something happens to it?” I argued. “What if it floats back down river or someone comes by, sees it, and decides they should take it home. What then?”

My dad looked straight at me. I could tell he was contemplating my words and my argument, after all, they both held water to a certain extent. I knew that at that moment he knew I was correct. But I also knew that he was not going to let me be right. Not if it made him look wrong in the process.

“That safe is not going anywhere,” he said as he started back up the bank and began to head for the bridge itself to head home. “Trust me on that one.’

“But…” I started, but he put my comments to a stop.

“Jeremy, there is not telling how long that thing has been buried down there in that creek. Judging by how heavy it was and how water logged it was it has been there awhile. And no one is going to drive by and see it and get it out of the creek either. There is no telling how many times we have looked right at it before you noticed it today. It took you leaning over that there rail before you even saw the damn thing. Also, the river is not going to take it down stream anytime soon. It is supposed to be dry over the next couple of days. That will help us out I think and make it easier for us when we do decide to come back down and get the thing out for good. Now come on and walk back home with me. I am getting cold.”

I turned around to look back into the water. The safe seemed to call out to me from its watery grave. I felt my father’s hand upon my shoulder. I turned to look into his eyes.

“Forget about it,” he said and I could tell that he knew how much the whole thing had meant to me. “Let’s go home, let me get cleaned up and then we will see about coming back down here. Okay?”

I had to agree with him. After all, he was standing there dripping wet in the cold breeze. I knew he meant well and after all, he really did not even have to go out and try to see if the thing was a safe after all. He chose to anyway and that made me feel good, about myself and about my dad in general. We both headed back to the house, my dad thinking about what he was going to put on in place of his wet clothes, and me thinking about the safe we were leaving in the water. More importantly, what exactly we were leaving in the safe.

The sad thing is, my dad did get home and changed his clothes. By that time my mother had made it home and wanted to have supper. After that was over, it was too dark to go back down to the creek so we had to let it go for another day. The day after, I woke up and jumped up to go get my father and take him down to the creek. When I got up I heard a noise coming from outside. I knew immediately what the sound was. Rain. It was not only dampening the area of land outside my homestead, but dampening my heart as well. It rained for almost two days straight and by the time it stopped, my father and I were both rearing to get back down to the creek and the safe.

By the time we got there though, the creek was back up and the safe was once again completely under water. My dad, as patient as ever, told me to be patient, the water would recede and the safe would become visible again. He was right about one thing, the water did recede, but the safe was not there. Where it went, we will never know. Did someone come and find it before us? Did it flush down river with the rushing flood water? All I know is that that safe still captures a part of my imagination somewhere. I still find my imagination running wild thinking about what was housed in the metal box. I guess I will never know for sure.

Chapter 5.4 The Attic

I ran to the door that led to the small staircase to the attic. That is when I think Matt began to realize what my plan was. I heard him moan a bit. Then he spoke out.


“Where in the heck are we going?”

“Trust me Matt. Just come with me real quick. There is one place that I need to check before we leave and it will give that bird a chance to calm down so we can move out of here without loosing an eye or something.” I pulled the entrance to the staircase open just a bit so the bird could not fly in and ruin my plan. A smell met my nostrils. A smell of stale air and dust. Matt caught a whiff.

“That smell is horrendous!” He cried. This line would be another classic line of JMH that we would use over and over again when the appropriate time would arise. After saying it, we would double over in laughter thinking it was the funniest thing we had ever heard in our entire lives. No one else ever had a clue why it was so funny. Oh well, that does not matter.

“Do not worry about how it smells. If there is money up there, you will forget about it after we find it. Now let’s go.” I looked around really quickly to check for the bird. When my eyes did not pick up on its movement and I realized it was a good of time as any to make a break for the attic, I opened the door to the stairway a little further. “Go ahead,” I said. “You go first.”

Matt looked at me as if I had just asked him to bite off his right arm. “What the heck do you mean I should go first?”

I knew we did not have time to argue. The bird would be back any minute and there really was no telling where it had gone during its disappearance. It may have left to get reinforcements or maybe to pick up a sharp object to stick in into its beak in order to make his attacks a little more violent. There was no telling. There was not telling what sort of evil we were dealing with here. It seemed as if the beast was just some ordinary feathered friend or fiend, but everyone probably thought that of bats until Bram Stoker wrote Dracula. From then on bats were looked at in an all new way and not in a positive light.

“I have the camera Matt. I can not really tell where I am going. If I fall and break this camera, my grandma will kill me. She just said I could borrow it and that was over a month ago. I think she has forgotten that I have the thing. But when she does remember and wants it back I want to make sure that I can give it to her without throwing a bunch of pieces in a sack.” It was true. The plan was just to borrow it for one quick evening and video tape one of Matt and my parodies of Wayne’s World in his mom’s basement (I’ll talk about these things later) but I forgot to give it to my grandma. She had not asked for it since so I figured if she did not ask for it then she was not really needing it for any special purpose. I would put it to some use and give it back to her when she asked for it. This was in the 1990’s and the dang thing is still in my garage. I am not really sure if she ever missed it or figured out where the thing went.

“Then give me the thing and I’ll hold it. That way you can go first. After all, this was your crazy idea. Don’t you want to be the first one to see the supposed safe?”

Matt had a point. This had been my idea. I swear I must have been some great explorer in my past life, because I have always been one for seeking out the unknown and wanting to be the first person ever to lay his eyes upon a certain place or object. This time was no different. Matt’s speech moved me, got to my heart. I am pretty sure Matt knew it would, that was why he had said it. I handed him the camera, or the Anvil as we used to call it. The camera was by no means like the cameras of today, light, small and compact. This thing was huge and bulky. If you carried it around for too long of periods of time you were really putting the future of your back at stake.

“Here.” I said proudly. “I will go first. I will risk my life for the sake…” I never got to finish my last statement because I heard the return of fluttering wings, fluttering vengeance and death. Our friend was returning. It was returning with a vengeance! The sounds of the flapping seemed more intense this time. More anger was prevalent. I opened the door to the stairway and jerked my head towards Matt. “In here quick!”

I paid no attention to the fact that the closet door had been shut and latched from the outside. If I had taken time to let this sort of information sink in I probably would not have taken the time to climb those stairs that day. I also forgot at that moment about the extreme stench coming from the attic, or how Matt put it, the horrendous smell. That was not the most important thing at the time. The most important thing at the time was getting away from our angry feathered friend and getting away close enough in order to stay within the house so I could test the legend of the safe and see if it was true or not. It also did not register with me that neither Matt nor myself had any sort of lighting source except for what God was providing us from the outside. Within that stairwell however, no light was being let in at all, and glancing to what seemed like the top of the stairs, I was not sure at the time because it simply was too dark to really tell, there was not light source coming from the top of the attic either. Then I remembered when we had walked the circumference of the home that there were no windows in the attic portion of the home. As Matt slammed the small door shut reality suddenly sank in. Though he was shutting out the vengeance of our feathered tormentor, he was also shutting out our one and primary source of light. I began to shudder a bit and did my best to mask my worry. Nothing I could do about it now and I was not about to let Matt on to my uncomfortable feeling.

“It is dark in here.” I heard him say. Then I felt something brush my shoulder. I hoped it was Matt.

“Is that you?” I asked trying to make sure it sounded as if I was joking. I hoped that my voice was not shaking.

“Of course it is me.” He responded. “Who did you think it was?”

I really did not want to take the time to let my imagination run wild and respond to that question. The only way I could think about responding was to joke. So I opened my mouth and let one fly. “Just don’t grab my butt or anything.” Even though it was dark I could make out the outline of my friend. He was shaking with laughter.

“Don’t plan on it man.” He said. “So now what do we do?”

Good question. Again I knew I was flying by the seat of my pants here so I had to give him a quick response. “We go on up. I think it will lighten up a bit up there.”

Matt agreed. “I sure hope you are right. I can not see a dang thing through the lens on this camera. If we are going to pick up anything on camera we are going to have to have some sort of huge light source up there.”

I put my hands out and felt my surroundings. The stairway was not very large at all, maybe five feet wide if that. I put my hands, one on each wall and began to make my way up. The stairway itself began to shrink in size as we got farther and farther to the top. I began to turn sideways in order to have enough room to continue. I knew that if I was having difficulty fitting in the tiny area, that Matt had to be having problems as well. He was both a little larger than myself and also was lugging the Anvil on his shoulder.

“You okay?” I called out in a whisper. I was not sure why I was whispering, but again I did not want to let my imagination run wild to try and come up with an answer to my question.

“Yeah.” Matt answered. “Just getting a little tight in here. How much farther is it? Can you see anything yet?”

Again I knew I had to respond quickly. I was not going to lie to my best friend however, so I was honest as possible. “I am starting to make out something.” Even though I was not able to see anything, I was not lying either. My eyes had begun to adjust to the dark so I was seeing a little clearer in my surroundings. It is all about how you word and select your word choices when speaking.

“What is it that you are seeing?” Matt asked. I could sense that he was actually interested in what I had to say. He was actually wanting to know what was going on.

“I’m not sure.” Again, I was being honest here. The lighting was not good enough to make out what any of the objects were. And I was starting to see some objects up there. All sorts of twists and shapes were beginning to form in front of me. I was not only interested, but at the same time I was getting a little worried. Just what if something was up here calling this area its home? We were invading its home now. Its privacy. I shut the idea out of my head because I simply did not want to think about it. Ghosts and the supernatural were things that really did not bother me. It was the living that we really had to worry about. Those often were the real dangerous things we had to worry about in our lives. Whether they were human or animal. It was always best to keep a heads up when dealing with either. “It still is to dark too tell what is really up here. Just give me a minute and we will be at the top of the stairs. I should be able to get a better view up there. Better lighting.” Again, I was hoping that the lighting would improve when we got to the top of the stairs. Only time would tell.

Suddenly I felt Matt brush up against me. At first I thought his fear and emotion was getting the better of him. Then I realized that he was actually trying to move me out of the way and get past me. Was he wanting to go first? This was impossible.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Let me by. I have the camera and I want to be the first to capture and document all of this on film.”

I was not sure how to respond to this comment. Was this the same Matt Hails that I had grown up with through high school? The same Matt Hails that was often scared of his own shadow? “Are you sure you want to do that?” Again I was curious, but I did not want to make it sound as if I did not have faith in his judgment. Matt knew that I knew he was a fraidy cat. He just did not want me to let him know that I knew. Make sense?

“Yeah. Let me passed. I want to go first.”

I did not argue with him. I squeezed next to the wooden side of the stairway the best that I could. It took a little bit of creative maneuvering, but Matt finally moved by and started up the stairs ahead of me. Before he actually began his ascent, I notice he paused a bit and sensed that he was having a bit of second thoughts. I did not say anything, just waited patiently to see what he was going to do. Then whatever motivation he needed to find, he found it and began his movement up the stairs.

It seemed like we were going into the darkness forever. The more we climbed the darker it got. The darker it got the longer and higher we seemed to climb. I began to doubt my judgment of making a run for the stairs to elude the bird. I began to wonder if it would have been smarter to have headed for the door or to duke it out in the former living room area of the home with the bird from hell. Then all my doubts were answered by the spoken voice of my friend.

“It is starting to open up a bit.” Matt said. I breathed in a sigh of relief, again forgetting about the horrendous smell that Matt and I had encountered when we first opened the doorway. Just like with any bad smell, after you are around a scent for a long extended period of time, it sort of becomes a part of you and you really do not notice it. This had become the case. But psychologically, my mind was not going to let me forget about the smell, or what could have been causing such a scent.

“Just keep moving a bit more. I am right behind you.” I was never one that felt the sense of being claustrophobic, but this time period I think I was beginning to experience such a phobia for the very first time. I wanted to get to the top of that staircase soon, or I wanted to turn around and head back down the way we came. Luckily, Matt thought out the dilemma quickly and he continued in the upper motion.

“I think we are here.” I heard Matt say as I felt him stop.

I agreed with his assumption. The area did feel like it opened up a bit and the air was not so dense. It felt as if there was some movement and circulation of the staleness, even though it was just a bit. Enough still helped out the air in this area. I nudged Matt in the back.

“Can you see anything?” I asked him hoping that he would provide the answer that both satisfied myself and him at the same time.

“Give me a second.” He responded. “I need to bring the camera down to my side for a minute so I can get a better view up here. The camera is blocking my view a bit.”

I felt him bring the camera down to his side as I had to move a step down in order to compensate room for the large object. I could make out Matt’s head. It was turning from side to side surveying the area around him. I was not able to read his body language on whether or not he was satisfied by what he saw. I waited for a oral response. Then one came.

“Jeremy.” He said slowly. I was not sure what the tone he was using meant. It was either one of complete disappointment or complete dismay. I was not sure which one I was hoping for.

“What?” I asked ready to hear anything. After one deals with a bird from hell, they are pretty much ready to take on anything. This being the case in this situation.

He paused before I felt a smack fall down upon my shoulder. I yelled out in pain. Did he just hit me? And if so, why did he do it?

“What was that for?” I cried out. “What in the hell did you hit me for?” I was waiting for his response before I struck him back. All is fair when one is dealing with their best friend.

“Didn’t you say there was supposed to be some sort of safe up in this attic?”

“Yes.” I responded. “That was the story that I have heard.” And it was the truth. I had been told that story for years, I just never had read or seen anything to verify the truth behind it. But that was what our purpose was here was it not? “Why? Do you see it?” Again I was very hopeful in my tone.

Again the hit. This time it was there was a little more force behind it. More than the original strike. “Hell no!” He said drawing out both the words hell and no as if he was trying to stress his frustration and disappointment with me. “Safe. There ain’t no freaking safe!”

“What do you mean there is no safe up there?” I pushed him out of the way and made my way to the top of the stairs. “Let me see this for myself.”

I made my way to the top of the stairs a little relieved at Matt’s discovery but at the same time extremely disappointed. Safe. That was all I had heard about since I had been able to drive and search these back country roads for adventure and excitement. Oh, you have to go check out the house down next to the great bridge towards Ashley. There is supposed to be a safe in the attic filled with loot. No one had ever gone to the attic to check and have been able to return and tell their tale. No one! I should have known better due to the fact no one had ever gone to the attic and returned to tell about it, yet Matt and I were at the top of the staircase viewing the legendary attic and the only obstacle we had to overcome was some crazy damn bird.

SOTD - Ho Hey

I belong with you and you belong with me...MH

Big Bang Theory "Call Me Maybe" Flash Mob

Who knew Raj could work it like that and you gotta love that Jim Parsons stayed in full Sheldon character and watched with contempt in the background!

Bazinga...MH

SOTD - Tip It On Back

After the results of this week's election I may have to tip some on back!



MH

No, Obama Didn’t Call Benghazi “Act of Terror” in Speech

After watching the debate I know everyone was interested in how President Obama answered the Libya question. I know I was, especially since the moderator Candy Crowley said she that President Obama was absolutely correct that he did indeed call the Libya attack an "act of terror" the day after 4 Americans were killed. I must have missed the part about the moderator in a Presidential debate being a commentator as well. Interestingly I found this article written by Alana Goodman at Commentary Magazine on 9/30/12. Interesting to note how Candy Crowley does her fact checking, she gets it straight from David Axelrod. That's right, the impartial moderator of the Presidential debate gets her information straight from Obama's master of spin.

Alana Goodman's Article

Now that the Obama administration’s initial narrative that the Benghazi assault was a spontaneous response to an anti-Islam film has collapsed, the new spin from the White House is that President Obama has actually called it a terrorist attack all along.

“Well, first of all, Candy, as you know, the President called it an act of terror the day after it happened,” David Axelrod told CNN’s Candy Crowley this morning, referring to a speech Obama made in the Rose Garden on Sept. 12.

Axelrod’s claim has been pushed by journalists over the past few days, most notably Josh Gerstein at Politico, in a blog post headlined “Obama talked of Libya attack as ‘terror’ 2 weeks ago”:

Despite a drumbeat from the right and even independent fact-checkers that President Barack Obama has been unwilling to label as terrorism the attack on a United States diplomatic mission in Libya, the president indicated just a day after the killing of the American ambassador there that the assault was part of a series of “acts of terror” the U.S. has faced.

Mark Landler made the same claim in an otherwise solid article at the New York Times:

The White House maintains that its account changed as intelligence agencies gathered more details about the attack, not from any desire to diminish its gravity. Mr. Obama, his aides point out, labeled the assault an “act of terror” in his first public response, in the Rose Garden, a day after it happened.

Gerstein and Landler are simply wrong on this.


Obama said during the speech that “No acts of terror will ever shake the resolve of this great nation” — but at no point was it clear that he was using that term to describe the attack in Benghazi. He’d also spent the previous two paragraphs discussing the 9/11 attacks and the aftermath. “Acts of terror” could have just as easily been a reference to that. Or maybe it wasn’t a direct reference to anything, just a generic, reassuring line he’d added into a speech which did take place, after all, the day after the anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. Here’s the line with some additional context:

Of course, yesterday was already a painful day for our nation as we marked the solemn memory of the 9/11 attacks. We mourned with the families who were lost on that day. I visited the graves of troops who made the ultimate sacrifice in Iraq and Afghanistan at the hallowed grounds of Arlington Cemetery, and had the opportunity to say thank you and visit some of our wounded warriors at Walter Reed. And then last night, we learned the news of this attack in Benghazi.

As Americans, let us never, ever forget that our freedom is only sustained because there are people who are willing to fight for it, to stand up for it, and in some cases, lay down their lives for it. Our country is only as strong as the character of our people and the service of those both civilian and military who represent us around the globe.

No acts of terror will ever shake the resolve of this great nation, alter that character, or eclipse the light of the values that we stand for. Today we mourn four more Americans who represent the very best of the United States of America. We will not waver in our commitment to see that justice is done for this terrible act. And make no mistake, justice will be done.

If Obama wanted to call the Benghazi assault a terrorist attack in that speech, he had plenty of opportunities to do so. Instead, he described it as a “terrible act,” a “brutal” act, “senseless violence,” and called the attackers “killers,” not terrorists. It’s also important to consider the context. For a week after this speech, the White House would not call it a terrorist attack. The official position was that Libya was a spontaneous response to an anti-Islam film, not a premeditated or preplanned act.

Some may wonder why it even matters. Maybe Obama really was referring to Benghazi as an “act of terror” in the speech, and he just failed to make that clear enough — so what?

Actually, this is much more than an issue of semantics. Calling it a terrorist attack would have given Obama powers under the Authorization for the Use of Military Force Against Terrorists (AUMF) to use military action, including drone warfare, against the perpetrators. If he were serious about “bring[ing] to justice the killers,” which he vowed to do in the speech, then labeling this incident a terrorist attack (if he believed that’s what it was) would have been critical. Instead, we now have the FBI sitting with its hands bound in Tripoli, unable to move forward with a serious investigation.

MH

3 Years For That?

Let me start this entry by saying I love pizza and Domino's has great pizza, but when I saw their latest commercial I was struck by something that I just can't get out of my head so I had to share.



At the 8 second mark of the commercial Patrick Doyle tells the audience that Domino's has spent 3 years developing their fresh pan pizza dough. 3 years they spent working on a way to to be different from most pizza joints. Most pizza places use *gasp* frozen dough for their pan pizza crusts!!! Oh the humanity! But not Domino's. No, no...they are so dedicated to delivering fresh pan pizza to their customers that they spent 3 years developing this process.

Now, go back and take a look starting at the 11 second mark where Roxane (the pizza chef) tells you just how they did it. "first we hand press it into the pan, then we top it with not one but two layers of cheese." I will wait for just a moment and let that soak in. *insert elevator music here* Has it soaked in yet? For those that are still confused, let me explain what took Domino's 3 years to develop.

1. Take the pizza dough and press it into the pan.
2. Cover with cheese.

Really? I'm not Mario the professional pizza maker, but 3 years for put the pizza dough in the pan and cover with cheese? Did I miss where the federal government took over Domino's? That's the only legitimate excuse for that process to take more than 3 seconds let alone 3 years!

Still avoiding the Noid and Prime Time Pizza...MH

Life Lessons

Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you want to look at it I have had more than my share of situations in which I had the opportunity to learn a valuable life lesson. In many of these situations I had the opportunity to turn these into multiple life lessons. Some I learned easily, others, I'm still working on.

One such opportunity occurred in 1996. JM and I were returning home from Lollapalooza in Indiana. We were traveling home in one car with two other guys that went with us to the concert and were being followed by our friend Paul and 3 other friends in another car. At some point we noticed a quaint, but professional looking fireworks store off to the side of the interstate. Now JM and I were already known in our area for producing one of the most exciting and substantial July 4th home fireworks productions, but we were always looking to expand our display.

Typically we got most of our fireworks in MO at one of those "big box" fireworks stores, but this place looked different. We had talked before about needing to do something different to keep up our exciting displays that always had the neighbors talking. We both happened to see it at the same time and immediately knew we had to stop.

One issue though, we had already passed the exit and I was running late getting home. I was supposed to be at work at 2 and after 14 hours in the sun the day before and a very long night we had overslept, so there was no time for goofing around. There wasn't time to go up to the next exit and turn around. No, a quick and decisive decision was needed and I made it.

I saw one of those "authorized vehicles only" turnarounds quickly approaching. So quickly in fact that there wasn't any time to get to the inside lane or even slow down. I immediately turned the steering wheel, throwing the car into a slide, tires squealing and smoke rolling. JM was holding on to the dash, yelling and one of the guys in the back seat who had been sleeping up until this point was now wide awake with his eyes as large as Christina Ricci's. I knew this because I was looking in my rear view mirror to see not only how many cars I had cut off, but also to see if Paul was able to get slowed down in time to make the same turn. He did not.

It was still early in the cell phone days, but Paul and I both had one and it didn't take long for him to call and let JM and I know what he was thinking. What were we doing? Why didn't we tell him we were stopping? He wanted fireworks. And, most importantly, wow what a stop and turn!

After the excitement of the turn, we still didn't have time to waste. We had to get going and head back to the store, we had fireworks to buy! We pulled into the store and began our quest to find something new and different. I knew when we entered this little red barn we had found exactly what we had hoped.

Because space was limited this place hadn't wasted a lot of floor with "smalls," which was good, because we weren't interested in sparklers and smoke bombs. No, we wanted big, loud and spectacular and there was wall to wall big, loud and spectacular. We had found the fireworks sweet spot. In addition there was only one main worker and he was also the owner and he was passionate about what he was selling. We quickly explained to him that we didn't have much time and why we were there. Big was good, but we wanted quality too. Something to set ourselves apart. Like a machine he began methodically showing us what we needed. Like a fat kid in a free cake store we were giddy with excitement.

Once we had what we needed, we added a couple of extra items just in case. JM and I had learned in the last 5 years that there was no such thing as too many fireworks. Now we had to checkout and go. Time was slipping away from me and I knew I was already late for work. As the owner began ringing up the stuff I reached for my wallet. Now this wasn't a planned purchase, so I knew I didn't have enough cash. I turned to JM and although we always took extra cash to these outings, we had far exceeded our emergency cash stash with this purchase. So there was only one thing to do, we couldn't let this magnificent haul get away from us.

I reached into my wallet and pulled out a credit card. The owner finally got finished ringing each of our items up and gave me the total. I handed over my Visa and JM started organizing things so we could quickly get moving. Now, everyone knows that feeling when it starts taking a second or two longer than it should for the clerk to give your credit card back. One second turned into two, two turned into three and I quickly realized that something wasn't right. I started thinking of everything it might be. Over the credit limit? No, can't be. Missed payment? No, I distinctly remember sending it in. What could this possibly be?

The owner looks at the card reader and then looks at me. I will never forget what he says next. "I need you to stay right here." I was like, no kidding dude, I need my credit card back before I go anywhere. But the way he said it didn't give me any comfort and I was starting to panic. He goes over to a little doorway and I see that he's using the phone. Ok, good. He's calling someone to either fix his machine or straighten out any confusion about my credit card. I had plenty of credit line and hadn't ever missed a payment. This would soon be straightened out and we would be on our way. Which was desperately needed because I was way late now.

He comes back and tells me, just be patient and this will all be handled. Patience is something I was quickly running out of at this point. I asked him pointedly, "what's the problem?" No answer. I looked at the card reader and it read "Pick Up Card." I wasn't sure what that meant at the time, but it didn't seem promising. At that point he asked, "can I see your driver's license?" Ok, now we are getting somewhere. I'm obviously me and that's my card, so sure, here it is and now we can get going. Thankfully he seemed satisfied that I was who I said I was, but apparently he had ulterior motives, "your credit card is reading that it's stolen." He explained that he couldn't give it back to me and that the police had been called and were on their way. He further explained that he now had all my information, so it would be best if I didn't try to run.

At this point I was beyond freaking out. JM was looking at me all confused. He knew there had to be a huge mistake, but what were we going to do now? At this instant, I remembered that I had lost one of my credit cards and had reported it lost or stolen a couple of weeks before. I had looked for weeks for it prior to reporting it, but now I knew immediately that I had found my lost credit card...unfortunately for me, this was not how I wanted to find it. I explained the situation to the owner and calmly asked him if he would look at the back of the card and give me the phone number off of it. Surprisingly he did.

I called customer service and explained what had happened, gave them my information and convinced them that I wasn't some hardened credit card thief. I was able to give them enough identifiable information that they confirmed that although I was moron and in error about my credit card being lost, I wasn't a thief and hadn't stolen my own card. It was at this point the police were pulling up and I knew I needed to get the owner on my side quickly. I gave him the phone and asked the customer service rep to help clear things up. If they rescinded the notice that this was a stolen card then I could pay for the fireworks with another card and we could be on our way. Finally when he hung up the phone, he smiled, handed me back my card and said "you might want to go ahead and cut that up." Crisis averted! The police came in the store, the owner quickly waved them off and told them that it had been handled. Finally we had our fireworks and were on our way.

I finally made it to work that night and a couple of nights later JM and I put on one of our best fireworks displays ever.

The life lessons learned? 1. The best fireworks are never found in the "big box" stores. 2. Always use a turn signal when turning. 3. Always have a spare credit card. 4. Make sure your credit card is lost before reporting it. 5. Tell your friends where you are going. But the most important life lesson learned? When looking for things, they are always in the last place you look!

That's nice...MH

SOTD - Take A Look At Yourself

This song was recently suggested for a SOTD and I couldn't agree more.



Can't you see why I want you and nobody else...MH

Chapter 5.3: BIRD!!!

The next place on Matt’s list of adventures was the legendary Violin Girl of Centralia. She was located within the confinements of a cemetery and basically she was a statue of a little girl over a grave site. The story was if you went to the cemetery, there was a chance of hearing her play. We went there with the video camera and actually found the tombstone rather easily. But to our disappointment, no violin playing. No ghost girl. End of case.


We did, however, find a cool mausoleum behind the tomb area of the little girl. It was enormous in size and appeared to be the dimensions of a small home. It pretty much reminded me of the size of my first home that I purchased right after moving out of my mom and dad’s home. The home was only about 800 square feet and had only two bedrooms. You could stand in the kitchen and see the entire home. This had its advantages later on when I started having children. It was easy to keep an eye on them and locate them when needed with little to no effort. But it did run into problems later when I had two kids, one boy and one girl and did not have separate bedrooms to put them in. This mausoleum reminded me of the size of my first home.

What was really disturbing about the building was the fact all of the entrance areas had been bricked up and sealed. When Matt and I went over to get a closer look at the building itself, one of the bricks in one of the window areas had been cracked and removed from the area it held shut. We shined a flashlight in and you could make out what appeared to be some sort of sliding lock mechanism. The freaky thing was that the lock could only be opened and locked from the inside. How was this done?

Also, while Matt and I were shinning the light around into the opening, Matt swore he saw something move inside. He jerked his arm back and nearly dropped the flashlight inside the building. I wanted to go back and get a closer look, but Matt refused and we not only left the area of the mausoleum, but the cemetery itself.

Matt and I went to some other cool haunted locations during our times together. One of the funniest that was supposed to be the scariest was an area we called the Bird House. The home was out in the country in the area that we lived and grew up in. It was down an old field road and you had to travel nearly a mile down a beat up uneven driveway before you reached the location. Once you got there, there were two buildings present. One house and two storage barns. There had been a rumor circulating for years that the upstairs area of the home housed some sort of safe which contained a large sum of money. Matt and I had heard of this story before, but it had never crossed our minds to check the place out for ourselves. That was until we started doing some paranormal investigations in areas.

We took the video camera as usual and went around the back side of the house. The front door had been boarded up years before in what appeared to be a futile attempt at keeping out any trespassers that they possibly could keep out. Normally, people will check the front door and if it is locked, they will assume that someone is living within the establishment. However, the other small proportion of individuals will see that this point of entry is not accessibly and they will do whatever they can to seek another point of entry, enter Matt and I. We knew that the front door was locked, but the side of the house had a door that was wide open and allowed easy access to the home. It was this door that we went to seek entrance into the location.

As we approached the door, Matt stepped ahead of me as I held the camera. I knew he really did not want to be the individual to go first, but he also did not want to limit his view of his surroundings by putting himself behind the camera. We entered the home to find pretty much nothing but trash and dirt. There was an old sofa sitting in the front room area that was located directly behind the entrance door that was locked. Matt made some sort of comment about the couch being the perfect make out couch. I made a wisecrack about being my guest at bringing someone there to make out. He laughed as did I.

As we proceeded further into the home, we located a small door that seemed to lead upwards. I moved towards it keeping my sight clear with the camera and was about to open the door. That’s when Matt called my attention to something. An odd noise was filling the air and coming from the direction of a side room.

“What is that noise?” Matt asked darting his head from side to side. I could tell at that moment he was a little uneasy. Seeing him this way also made me feel uneasy as well.

“I don’t know.” I said. I began to pan the camera from side to side. That’s when it happened. The reason we called the house the Bird House.

As I panned the camera from the right and then back left, a flapping sound caught my attention. I jerked the camera back in the direction the sound was coming from. That’s when something hit the front lens of the camera sending the camera flying right into my eye and jamming my head backwards in an arc formation.

“What the heck was that?” I screamed as I pulled the camera down rubbing my eye. Matt was now no longer in front of me, but had crouched in a defensive formation behind me. I was not sure if he had done that in order to protect himself or whether or not he had went into this position because he thought it was an easier position to help protect me.

“I think it was a …” Before he could finish the statement, the thing that had come the first time had come again. It darted from the top of the ceiling and dove at us. At first I thought it was a bat of some kind, seeking out our human blood wanting to quench its thirst. Then I got a closer look and realized what it was.

“Bird!” I yelled covering my head as the beast came back for another swoop.

For a moment we were both relieved that that was just what it was, a bird. Then as the bird continued to attack us with swoop after swoop, I knew that it probably would have been better for us had the thing been paranormal. At least that way it would not have been solid and if it did make contact with us in any way it would not hurt us. This bird had a solid beak. If it made contact with our bodies in some way it was going to hurt. I knew by the way this bird was acting that it probably had a nest somewhere with young birds in it. It was acting as if Matt and I were predators. I knew the best way to resolve the situation would be to remove ourselves from the location. However, I was not done searching the house for the legendary safe and legendary treasure just yet.

“Follow me!” I yelled to Matt as if I was some sort of military sergeant barking orders to his private. I stuck my arms up around my eyes to shield myself the best that I could. Matt did not argue with my command, he watched the area that I was moving toward and followed blindly, his arms near his eyes as well trying to defend himself. Even thought the bird was way smaller than either one of us, we both feared this animal tremendously.

I knew where I was leading us. I was leading us to a place of safety. At least a place of safety from our fine flying feathered friend. I was also leading us to the place that we were needing to go. The real reason why we had made the attempt at the Bird House. I was leading us to the place of legends, where the safe in the location holding the buried treasure was suppose to be. Had Matt known exactly where I was leading him, he probably would have just stayed where he was at dealing with the killer bird. I was leading us up.

I was leading us to the attic!

A MetalliReflection...

While on Facebook tonight, a friend of mine made a comment about "When Metallica didn't suck."  Well, after much reflection, I have come to terms with the fact that METALLICA HAS NEVER SUCKED!  My best friend, Matt Hails, and I have seen Metallica numerous times and are experts in their dominance of the rock and roll world.  After much reflection, I decided to share my top five Metallica moments:




5. Seeing Metallica in Indianapolis and having Waylon Jennings come out as the surprise guest. Once he started singing the rioting began. It was all fun and games...dirt flying...coolers flying...chairs flying...until people started flying. Scary moment, but awesome nonetheless.



4. Metallica at Riverport and being involved in our first official moshpit. This too was very frightening but exhilarating. We decided to get out when Matt got knocked down and started to get stepped on. I pulled him out and he had muddy footprints on his back! I still have his shirt to this day with the prints!



3. Metallica at Riverport...our rumble. A boy kept bumping into our friend Opie. He asked us if we would back him up if he punched the guy when he bumped into him again. We said sure, not really thinking he would do it. Next thing I knew I was getting hit with fists, legs, feet, elbows, and other body parts. A huge shout out to Mark Trotter who saw the action and decided it was time to take a bathroom break. Way to support your brothers my man! He never went to a concert with us again.



2. Metallica at Carbondale...my first Metallica concert...my first concert period. We decided that day to go. Did not have tickets. Had no clue who Metallica really was. We showed up at the door and paid $15 and got front row seats. They played four hours! I could not hear for three days after that. It was incredible and a life changing event. That Christmas I asked for all of the Metallica CDs. It was a MetalliChristmas!



1. Metallica at Savvis Center...we got to meet the band backstage! Matt had been paralyzed in his car accident a few months before and refused to go to the concert. They sent us backstage passes as extra motivation for him to attend. They are truly great guys.



Metallica SUCK?  Really now?  You must not know the band that we do!

I'm thinking...
JM