I don’t pretend to be a photographer, but I do have a camera.

Mural on Independence Avenue.

Continue reading →

Continue reading →

This morning couldn’t come fast enough. I haven’t had a date for a long time and ever since I saw the sign with his name on it I couldn’t get it out of my mind. When it was finally lunchtime I ran downstairs with my car keys in hand and within a few minutes I was approaching the building where it was going to happen.

O, how I longed for this minute. My heart was beating faster and faster. There was no way this date could go wrong. With the name like Reuben, I knew he wouldn’t disappoint. All the signs where pointing to the place where we will finally meet.

My heart was pounding and the things happening with my mind and body could only be understood by an experienced medical professional. I timidly approached the counter and whispered: “Reuben, please”. The wait was becoming unbearable. I had to run outside to see if he was ready.

He was getting dressed. My lips were smacking in anticipation. I ran back inside.

Then out again.

This was starting to feel like torture. Sweet, sweet torture. I was ready to explode. Finally he was mine. I stared lustily, he was all there – seductively spread in front of me, on a slightly grilled hoagie roll, covered with slices of thick-cut pastrami, cheese, sauerkraut and topped with the thousand island dressing, so hot, steamy and beautiful.

His smell took over my car turning it into a prison of anticipation and impatience. We still had to get back to my place. I couldn’t keep my eyes on the road.

I couldn’t think of anything else, I just wanted to touch this hot mess with my lips, swollen with desire. I don’t remember much of the ride. Finally we were alone.

The short ride helped me regain my senses. I wanted this to last as long as I could, and this I could control for a change.

I could, of course, dig in face first, impatiently devouring my beloved Reuben, tearing into the hot dog, pastrami, roll, taking greedy bites until nothing was left. Or I could take it slow, savoring a bite after delicious bite. The choice was hard. Maybe I should’ve made it a threesome so I could experience it in every way. I chased impure thoughts out of my head.

Slowly I started to cut it in small pieces. Sauerkraut juices mixed with dressing were getting me even more excited. O, what a pleasure every small bite was. I could do this for hours.

Finally it was over. I thought about smoking a cigarette but then remembered that I quit 13 years ago. Reuben almost made me get back to the old habit. I listened to the music instead.

“The best four dollar date I ever had” I thought to myself making imaginary smoke rings, “I wouldn’t mind doing this again”
Hot Dog Haven, Armour Rd. Kansas City,MO.

Continue reading →

@kcmeesha is there anything you haven’t blogged about?

@theDLC

As my friend The DLC pointed out, I have now blogged just about everything and now pathetically spend my time posting links to my own blog, where I previously opined on whatever subject is being discussed. I constantly catch myself thinking about writing something just to discover that I wrote about it at length last year or the year before. That’s why when we came back from the apple orchard on Sunday all I had to do is search and find my last year’s post about apples and another one about the apple recipes. Even my photos looked the same – the same place, the same apples. Luckily we made a little detour or I would’ve had nothing at all.
The Main Street in the city of Ottawa, KS hasn’t changed much since the old days. As a matter of fact it looks very similar to the old photos of Neosho, MO I recently posted, they must have used some standard project for the smaller rural towns.
This is what the Main St. in Ottawa, KS looked like in 1942:

This is what it looks like now:



We got off the highway in Ottawa to wait for the apple orchard to open and promptly found ourselves in the middle of the antique car show known as  Ol’Marais River Run. I don’t consider myself a giant car fan and all the talk about cubic inches, shaved hoods and custom paint jobs does nothing for me, but it’s hard not to stand in awe admiring the time when a car was a work of art. These cars may not have been the safest or the most technologically advanced but they represent the era when the car was still a wonder, an object of pride, an engineering dream trimmed with chrome.

Due to some peculiar historic and political circumstances the cars of my childhood looked almost identical to these, so strangely these shows are just as nostalgic for me as they are for someone who grew up here.

The car show had a feel of a State Fair complete with signage:

…Elvis and Marylin:

…delicious food:


…Republican Party:

…and boyscouts:

In the olden days, before the Ad Wizards took over our lives, the states had simple nicknames. Nebraska was known as a “Beef State”:

Iowa had to settle for the “Pork State”, Alabama went with the “Heart of Dixie”

Arizona called itself “The Grand Canyon State”

and Missouri was known as it is known now as “The State That Thinks It’s Better Than Other States But Is Sadly Mistaken” but is was hard to fit on the license plate.
After the show we finally made it to the orchard:

This year seems to be one of the best years for apples, trees were heavy with fruit.

I spent a few minutes on the pond:

enjoying the wildlife:

Here is what the pond sounds like:

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a28tgsr3jRg

We picked 25 lbs of apples:

…paid a visit to the country store:

Took another look at the giant apple in the sky where all the worms go after they die:

…and were home in no time.

Continue reading →

I am not sure what to make of the fact that one year anniversary of this blog falls on the 90th anniversary of Komsomol – Communist Union of Youth which I joined at the ge 14 back in 1983. Komsomol was a third step in the Soviet brainwashing pyramid after the Little Octobrists and the Young Pioneers. Knowing that the big 90th anniversary is coming up I was trying to think what do I remember about being in Komsomol and couldn’t come up with anything. By 1983 joining all the communist organizations while still mandatory, became more or less a formality. People who refused to join were constantly harassed by Komsomol leaders appealing to their non-existent communist spirit; on the other hand, “troublemakers” and openly religious people weren’t easily accepted, which could have had a negative influence on their future lives and chances of getting into college.
In order to join one had to fill out an application and be recommended by two members of Komsomol and/or Communist Party and also by a local Young Pioneer Organization. To make it look even more serious the candidate had to study the Komsomol Bylaws and be able to answer specific questions. If I remember correctly “specific” questions were supplied to us ahead of time. An artist’s depiction of the ceremony in 1962 looked like this:

For your homework find a difference between the painting above and its previous version from 1949. Discuss amongst yourself.

In my case it didn’t look anything like that; several people got accepted at once after answering some questions with prepared answers. A member of Komsomol had a membership ID like this

and a pin like this

On the right side of the membership ID you see one of the pages where a payment of membership dues was marked with a special stamp. Komsomol was the first of the Communist Organizations that had actual dues. Since the Soviet kids didn’t work (unlike poor exploited children in the West) the monthly dues were two kopecks, pretty much a pocket change but multiplied by millions of members it added up to huge amounts of money.

I continued to pay membership dues throughout the technical school and in the army. It increased a little but was always a small amount.

One could stay in Komsomol until the age of 28. Some joined the communist party before that, some just let their membership run out. For my generation Komsomol slowly dissipated without a trace and no memories. When I was leaving the country in 1992 I didn’t even know where my ID was. Many Komsomol leaders used their positions, connections,probably some of the dues and other property to acquire huge amounts of wealth and become oligarchs. The rest of us just moved on…

Just like many other attributes of the USSR Komsomol is now fondly remembered by some. Big celebrations were held this week to commemorate the 90th anniversary. Years are like beer-goggles of history, they make even the ugly past look better.

And now we dance…

httpvh://youtu.be/5RK172PYo5s

Continue reading →