14 February 2001
10th anniversary of a thursday.
musings of señor prod. -|-
judy jones, corporate jo, and yours truly
"My God, she's good-looking!" said Mr. Sandwood, who was just over thirty.
"Good-looking!" cried Mr. Hedrick contemptuously, "she always looks as if she wanted to be kissed! Turning those big cow-eyes on every calf in town!"
-- Winter Dreams by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Back in the misty high-school days, Million Dollar Jo (formerly Corporate Jo) and I had been quite taken by a girl we knew named Lena.
Of course, many of our friends didn't understand what we saw in her (she was certainly not
photogenic), but for some reason Jojo and I were rather smitten. Of course, the whole thing didn't
work out (for me first, then for him some months later)... and only a couple years after
the fact did Jojo and I know that we'd both received nearly identical treatment from her. At, or
around that time (1991!), I recalled the lines above from Fitzgerald's Winter Dreams. My friend Brian had
once noted during our English class that Lena had the "cow-eyes" which made people feel as though
she were falling in love with them. Of course, at the time, the ill-fated romantic attempt was a
serious blow to my ego, but I just remember it as a story to tell now... timely for the feast of
St. Valentine, a story of how a Fitzgerald character jumped up from the pages of a book, stared
deeply into my eyes, and convinced me that she was in love with me.
tales of the great white north
On sunday, even though my mind was a thousand miles away, I was able to focus enough on what was
happening before my eyes.
My uncle Charlie is a truck driver. He's worked in many other businesses, even owned some, but never
could eradicate wanderlust he had. So lately, his routes have been bringing them local to SoCal
every few weeks, and he's as much of a silly dork as I ever could be.
This last sunday, he was telling me stories of when he and my aunt were travelling in Canada and
Around 20 years ago, much of the highway through northern BC into Yukon was still unpaved.
Periodically, though, the highway was paved, sometimes for long stretches. Along some of these
stretches of lonely highway, the road would widen, significantly, for a matter of some score yards.
To one side of the road or the other in most of these segments was a small general store and
But before these wider lengths of paved road, there stood a road sign: "AIRCRAFT HAVE RIGHT-OF-WAY"
I turned away from her as she spoke, grabbing the wheel and taking a deep breath like I had just
passed the scene of a horrible accident, or like I had been caught eavesdropping on a soliloquy.
musings of señor prod.
Not much rest for the weary at The Revolution.
And not much solace for the fearful. What price glory?