'80s Hip Hop - 'Sign of the Times' by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five

So the older I get, the more I realize the world really hasn't changed much over the course of my 50 trips around the sun. Without getting too deep, there has always been pestilence, famine, war and death. Now with smart technology, its in our faces all of the time. Whatever ends of the earth bad things are currently taking place on, we now hear about it. The world has definitely gotten a lot smaller. Which brings me to the topic of this post, the 1985 song called 'Sign of the Times' by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. 

As a naive kid growing up in a small Northwestern Colorado town, I was oblivious to just how much evil and injustice was out there in the real world. I got into rap music in 1981, mainly because of the sound and how different it was from anything else on the radio at the time, and Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five was one of my favorite rap groups. I'm the type of person that really listens to lyrics in songs, and the Furious Five started opening my eyes in ways I never imagined.

The first time I heard them rap about situations involving police brutality, I thought that it was surely a lighthearted jab at authority. However, my mind was opened as a pre-teen and suddenly news articles or short news spots on the exact same situations they were rapping about, started catching my eye. What's more, it seemed to me that no one wanted to talk about these uncomfortable situations, or quickly dismissed them. When they did make it to media, it also seemed like they were buried or minimized.

The other day I was listening to some old school rap for old times sake, and started singing along to 'Sign of the Times'. I suddenly stopped and realized everything they were rapping about, are the same exact issues people still ponder on to this very day.  Without further ado.. read the lyrics for yourself to see the correlation.

A side note:

You'd think you would be able to find everything on the internet in 2021, but I could not find the full and accurate lyrics anywhere online. I listened to the song myself to fill in the gaps, and succeeded with the exception of only one lyric which I've italicized.

 
Sign of the Times - Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five

Now listen up 'cause I got a little something to say
To educate you about the life in the streets today
Now everybody's confused about what to do
and what this world is coming to

Inflation rises every time opportunity knocks

The rent's crazy for the house the size of a box

It's an arm and a leg to keep clothes on your back

The daily run, push and shove, you just can't hack

The payday comes around you go to pick up your check

The money never seems to get you out of debt

Hinkley shot the president, he had nothing to lose

? - when a jury to see a brother eyewitness news - ?

Cops shooting up all of the citizens

To find out the next day the guy's innocent

Young girls being raped and taken by force

All the people getting married just to get divorced

Working for minimum wage, one foot in the grave

And all the rich folks screaming they're underpaid

Daddy's in jail doing twenty to life

He has a family back home, five kids and a wife

Girls run away from home with no way to survive

And have to sell her body to stay alive

Nowadays in the trains and the buses you see

People fighting for seats with the elderly

Momma down by the bedside on her knee

So much crime it ain't safe for her to walk the street

Because times are hard, either do or die

You can run and ignore, but you can't hide

Politicians like to max and relax

Say 'Vote for me, I know what to tax'

Sipping their Martinis with a little coke

And then the headline reads 'Drug overdose'

Magazines expose our beauty queen

The American Dream, what does it mean?

For tis' of thee in our country

Don't take things as they appear to be

You see babies cry while their mothers sigh

Sweet land of liberty for spacious skies

You got actors running for president!

So what the hell's going on with this government?

No hurt is worse than a mother's pain

when the love for her child goes down the drain

Been used and abused but would never expect

that the child grows up and gives her no respect

Car dealer wanted to make quick cash

Try to buy the coke and don't to got over glass

Nowadays kids are growing up too fast

Learning more in the street than they do in class

Dealing drugs on the corner at the age of ten

I say, if you go to jail, you got to stay in

Speeding in the fast lane, going no place

And when it's over, you see it was all a waste

Found with a letter by your bedside

end of July, committing suicide

Mom is searching in the trash for bottles and cans

While the kids stood by with outstretched hands

While a man holds a dollar and so must pray  

in this land of the free, home of the brave

You see people getting shot over nickels and dimes

Don't you know that's all a sign of the times?

Great song that brings back a lot of memories. If you know the missing lyrics let me know. I'd love to update them here!

Oh Hostess, How You've Fallen So Far

There was a time when Hostess ruled the snack aisle.

As a kid, the hardest decision in the corner store was which delicious Hostess treat to take home. Twinkies. Ding Dongs, Cupcakes, Zingers, Chocodiles, Fruit Pies, Powdered Raspberry Filled Donuts.. the shelves were full and every box looked irresistible. 

Nowadays the Hostess snack cake section is minuscule, if.. you can even find it at all. This is probably the result of the company going bankrupt and then being bought, sold, and reorganized to death. Somewhere along the way the brand lost something. The quality did too.

Once the undisputed king of the snack cake aisle, 

Hostess now occupies a tiny corner of the real estate it once dominated

As someone who once ran a snack cake blog, I can personally attest to just how far they've fallen. I used to track new releases, seasonal snacks, packaging changes, and recipe tweaks across the industry. You start to notice things when you pay that close attention. Portion sizes shrink. Textures change. Fillings get thinner. Sometimes the magic just disappears. Don't even get me started on their marketing and advertising mascots. That's a whole other story altogether.

The new Hostess Lemon Coffee Cake? Okay... maaaybe. But the picture on the packaging doesn't even look very appetizing. That alone would have stopped me as a kid.

These days Hostess still gets me to open my wallet occasionally, but it's almost always an impulse buy. Maybe a Snoball or a Zinger for nostalgia's sake.

I don't even buy Twinkies anymore. They just don't taste the same.

Ding Dongs, Cupcakes, Chocodiles.. I might try them again if I ever actually saw them. But I almost never do.

For a company that was once an American icon of the snack aisle, it's honestly a little sad.

Hostess used to make snacks you craved. Now they mostly make snacks you just walk past. But hey, at my age.. what am I complaining about? I don't need to be eating much of this stuff anyway. As long as I can find my bi-annual Hostess Zinger, Snoball, cupcake, or donuts, I'm ok. But then again, I guess I have to be. 

The Guy at Wawa

There are still good hearted, positive people in this world. I was reminded of that this morning in the most unlikely place, a Wawa convenience store. 

After the last couple of weeks, there's been times when I've honestly wanted to give up on people altogether. Become a hermit.. keep to myself.. avoid dealing with anybody if I could help it.

So this morning I stopped in at Wawa to get a black coffee and a few Lottery tickets. Today I gave myself plenty of lead time before work, so I figured I'd buy a few tickets, sit down with my coffee, scratch them at my leisure and just enjoy a quiet beautiful morning for a little while, before starting the grind once again.

Before I went inside, I noticed an older gentleman standing outside scratching a lottery ticket. He looked like a retired guy who had absolutely nowhere he needed to be. Hawaiian shirt, shorts, comfortable sandals. It's actually my prefferred leisure style to the tee, draped on someone 20 years older than I am.

He scratched his ticket, smiled, walked inside and came back out with another one.

He scratched that one too. Smiled again, walked back inside, came back out with another ticket. 

Same thing. Scratch.. Smile.. Go inside.

Eventually I went inside, bought a few tickets of my own and had a dollar credit left in the machine. As I was walking away, I heard a voice behind me.

"Don't forget, you have a dollar credit left."

I turned around and there he was.

I thanked him and told him that he had just saved me from doing something I've done before. I've walked away from a lottery machine and left money sitting there.

That led him to tell me a story.

He said that once, in New York, he was buying tickets when one of the biggest Powerball jackpots ever was up for grabs. He bought several tickets, got distracted and walked away without taking one of them.

He left it sitting in the machine. He didn't even take it home.

I groaned and said..

"Boy.. I hope somebody else didn't get that jackpot."

He told me he checked the news afterward and nobody had won the big jackpot.

I told him, "Well, maybe karma will come back around. Maybe somebody else made a little money when they really needed it"

He looked at me and said something that stuck with me.

"You know what? I think that's just God's way of telling me I didn't need that money at that time."

I stood there thinking about that for a second. Most people would probably spend the rest of their lives telling that story as the time they almost became a millionaire. They'd be angry at themselves. They'd curse their luck. They'd wonder what could have been.

This guy just shrugged it off.

Apparently he wasn't supposed to have that money. And that was that. Now that's a special kind of philosophy.

A few minutes later as I started pouring myself a coffee, I looked out the window. There was the same guy outside with the hood of his car open.

I thought, "Oh no. His car is broken down."

I started thinking about whether I had a jump box in my trunk that I could use to help him get going, then I looked a little closer. He wasn't trying to get his own car started. He was hooking up jumper cables to somebody else's car.

There he was, standing outside talking to a complete stranger, helping them get their car started. And from what I could see through the window, he looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself.

Just talking..

Just helping..

Just being friendly..

Nothing important was happening.. Nobody was giving him an award..

He wasn't changing the world..

He was just having a good morning.

And for some reason, that really hit me.

I thought, "That's the kind of retiree I want to be."

Not necessarily wealthy, or accomplishing.. anything important every day. Just being happy to be alive.

You know.. get up in the morning.. go somewhere..talk to people. Take a walk.. stop for a coffee.. scratch a couple of lottery tickets.. help somebody if they need it. 

Finding something enjoyable about an ordinary day and making the most of whatever moment I'm in. And most importantly, don't become bitter.

Don't let life beat me down to the point where I stop enjoying the little things.

Don't let the stupidity of other people ruin my entire day. Don't become the guy who sits around complaining about everything that's wrong with the world.

That man at Wawa seemed so comfortable with life. There was a peacefulness about him. Almost a Zen quality and it radiated.

He lost a lottery ticket that could have been worth millions and his response was basically, "I guess I didn't need it."

Then a few minutes later he's helping somebody else get their car started.

That's the kind of attitude I want.

And maybe I shouldn't wait until I'm retired to start working on it.

Maybe retirement shouldn't be some huge personality transformation that happens when I finally stop working.

Maybe I should start practicing now.

If I want to be that relaxed, friendly, helpful and contented old guy someday, I probably need to start becoming that guy today.

So that's my little lesson I gleaned from Wawa and the very Zen Gentleman this morning.

I left hoping maybe some of this guy's lottery luck would rub off on me.

But after watching him for a while, I'm thinking maybe something much more valuable already did.

Maybe a little bit of his attitude rubbed off instead. This was just 10 minutes and I can see he at least positively affected two people today. What is the rest of this guy's day going to be like? His week? Month? Year?!? 

Well.. who knows?

Maybe I'll scratch these tickets later and find out the luck came along too. 🤞

A Tuna Sandwich, Barbecue Chips, and a Lifetime of Memories

I had a few extra dollars in my pocket today and decided to take my daughter's advice.. "Treat yo-self!"

I wandered down the snack cake aisle at the supermarket but immediately did an about-face. Snack cakes just aren't what they used to be. 

Instead, I found myself in the cookie aisle where something caught my eye: Fig Newtons.

I couldn't remember the last time I had one. Growing up, they were about the only mass-produced cookie my mom would allow in the house. I tossed a package into the cart, wondering if they still tasted the way I remembered.

Then I grabbed a bag of Lay's Barbecue Potato Chips to go with lunch. It might not sound like much of a treat, but I promise you, it was.

When I got home, I made myself a thick tuna sandwich on wheat bread. Then I opened the bag of barbecue chips, covered the tuna with a generous layer, put the top slice of bread on, and pressed it down until the chips crunched into the tuna. I opened it back up, added a few more chips, and did it again. The first bite instantly transported me back decades.  Add in an ice cold Coca-Cola, poured into one of those vintage Tupperware plastic iced tea cups, and it was like I stepped into a time machine back to the 70s or 80s.

My cousin and I practically grew up together. She was my first best friend. Our moms were incredibly close, and many afternoons followed the same routine. They'd come home from the grocery store with a loaf of Roman Meal wheat bread, tuna, and a bag of Lay's Barbecue Potato Chips.

They'd make tuna sandwiches exactly the same way I made mine today.

And of course, my cousin and I copied everything they did.

Curious, I texted my cousin today and asked if she remembered those afternoons. She absolutely did. In fact, she laughed and admitted she had just made herself a tuna sandwich with potato chips the day before.. only with regular chips this time instead of barbecue.

I realized I hadn't made one of these in decades What's funny.. is that I can vividly remember those afternoons, yet I don't remember my mom ever making another tuna-chip sandwich after I was probably a preteen. Still, over the years I would overhear my mom and aunt fondly reminiscing about those lunches as if they had happened in another lifetime, and stating how they tasted sooo good.

I've noticed I'm having more moments like this lately. A memory, a smell, a taste, a certain food.. and suddenly I'm standing in my childhood again. I've always been amazed at how many of my memories are tied to food. My family is constantly surprised by the tiny details I remember from growing up, especially when it comes to meals, restaurants, and little traditions that everyone else has forgotten.

Before writing this, I shared the memory with my cousin. As I did, I realized something that caught me off guard. Many of the memories we carry through life may very well exist only inside us. The people who lived them with us may remember them differently or not at all. Some are gone. Some have been forgotten. That makes me want to tell these stories, almost as a way of keeping them alive. To make them real. To honor them before they quietly disappear.

To most people, a tuna sandwich with barbecue potato chips is just lunch. To me, it's history.. My history. And maybe these little, seemingly insignificant moments shaped me in ways I still don't fully understand, even now in my 50s. 

I guess sometimes, all it takes is something like a sandwich to remind you where you came from.

Rediscovering the Simple Joy of Beach Cruiser Bikes

I Think It's Time to Ride Again

Over the past few years I put almost all of my hobbies on pause. As I downsized and minimalized my life, I started cutting back on anything that took up space, time, or money. It felt like the right thing to do. Now I have that itch to circle back to one of the hobbies I loved most. Working on beach cruiser bikes and getting out for rides again.

It's funny, a Beach Cruiser YouTube video I posted years ago has continued to gain traction. You can see it below..

 

With all of the comments I'm still receiving on this video, it seems I am not alone. A lot of us are looking to get back into biking after years away. Sometimes all it takes is one ride to remember why we loved it in the first place. It's a hobby I never gave up on, I simply stepped away from it for awhile. 

Now, I think it's time to enrich my life with it once more. The side benefit of getting healthier while jumping back into a hobby I love so much, makes it a win-win.

What Does “Skulduggery” Mean? (And Why It’s Not a Pirate Word)

“Skulduggery” sounds like it should belong in a pirate story, buried treasure, mutinies, and skull-and-crossbones flags. But here’s the twist: it doesn’t actually come from pirate times at all.

The word simply means dishonest trickery, cheating, or sneaky behavior. It’s about people scheming, lying, or pulling off underhanded moves.. not about ships, sails, or the Golden Age of Piracy.

In fact, the term wasn’t even commonly used during the real historical era of pirates (roughly the late 1600s to early 1700s). Pirates like Blackbeard and Captain Kidd would never have called their schemes “skulduggery.” The word shows up in English a bit later and comes from older Scottish dialect roots describing immoral or dishonest behavior.

So why does it feel so pirate-like?

Because our brains connect it to imagery like skull-and-crossbones flags and pirate legends. Over time, storytellers and writers started using “skulduggery” to describe the kind of sneaky, treacherous behavior pirates are famous for, even if they never used the word themselves.

And that’s the interesting part: we often use words confidently our whole lives without knowing their real origin, or discovering they never belonged to the world we mentally attach them to.

Language isn’t just learned. It’s inherited, assumed, and sometimes quietly misunderstood.. until you stop and look twice. And I've been doing just that a lot lately. 

Everything That Kills Me Makes Me Feel Alive: A Cyclospora Rant

I've been working hard to clean up my diet lately, and honestly, I'm feeling better because of it. I owe a lot of that to my late mother, who was years ahead of her time when it came to healthy eating. She always kept fresh fruits and vegetables in the house and made homemade dinners every night. She wasn't a health fanatic, but she believed good food was one of the best investments you could make in yourself.

Now we're hearing about Cyclospora, a microscopic parasite that's been linked to outbreaks in multiple states. It can contaminate fresh produce and cause days, or even weeks, of miserable symptoms like explosive diarrhea, stomach cramps, nausea, fatigue, and loss of appetite. 

Wonderful. Just when I finally get serious about eating healthier, I have to wonder if my salad is plotting against me.

Mom did leave me with one piece of advice from her years as a cook, caterer, and later in food service administration for the Poudre Valley School District in Colorado: whenever there's an E. coli outbreak or some strange foodborne bug making the rounds, stick with fruits and vegetables that have thick skins you peel yourself.. like bananas, oranges, avocados, and plantains, until the whole mess blows over. 

Looks like I'll be taking her advice. And seriously... what's next? We can't drink water either?

Patience, don't fail me now.

I really don't want to turn this post into one of those bitter old man rants. But let's be honest. There are so many things in this world that can tick you off every single day, and there's no shortage of fuel to keep the fire burning 

I still watch the news because I feel like I need to stay informed about what's going on. That being said, I watch a lot less of it than I used to. I basically just tune in to make sure the world's not burning down around me, and to see what I'm up against every day with the weather and traffic

Every day it's the same story. I find myself shaking my head in disgust before eventually turning it off because I just can't listen anymore.

I've never used this blog as a platform for politics or religion, and I never will. But I am so tired of this whole oil situation. I've learned not to believe anything that comes out of the mouths of people in power.

The ceasefire is on.. the ceasefire is off. Then it's back on again. It really is ridiculous. All it takes is a few words from the right person, and suddenly the stock market is swinging wildly while oil prices shoot up overnight.

I've always found it ridiculous how a company can buy their petrol and fill their tanks up at the gas station. Then.. that same gas, bought and paid for, still in the ground, not even pumped into cars, can go up 30 cents overnight because of the news.

It's a roller coaster, but I've started to master the art of ignoring as much of it as I can, because the alternative isn't good. I just stop for gas before my tank gets below half, top it off, grin and bear it, and prepare myself to ride this whole mess out.

Hopefully.

And that's the thing folks. I've always told my kids not to depend on the people in power. Do what you have to do for yourself. Do what's best for you and your family. Adjust when you need to. Change your approach if life throws something in your way.

Don't look at an obstacle as something that's blocking your path. Look at it as something that's forcing you to create a new path, or maybe even several new paths. Tweak what needs tweaking, adapt, and choose the path of least resistance. The one that gives you the best chance to succeed.

In this whole mess right now, that could mean simply driving a little less. Carpooling, or picking the absolute cheapest place that sells gas. For me that's consistently Sam's club, or utilizing loyalty apps. You might not think it, but these kinds of things really add up at the end of the month to your benefit.

I could go on and on about the state of the world and politics, but I just can't and won't go there. I don't want to become one of those guys who's angry all the time. Life's too short for that.

This little post just serves as opening the pressure release valve a little bit. A little self-therapy.. Maybe a bit of catharticism. Thanks for reading. 

And.. if you're dismayed by the current state of global affairs, hang in there. We're all on this together.

When Did Fast Food Stop Being Fast?

 This morning I was sitting in the parking lot at Bojangles waiting for two BO-Berry biscuits.

Two.

Not a family meal. Not twenty sandwiches. Not some complicated special order with seventeen modifications.

Just two biscuits.

And as I pulled up to the drive thru window after already waiting in line, I heard those dreaded words that anybody who eats fast food has come to hate:

"Can you pull ahead and we'll bring it out shortly?"

Good Lord, how I've come to loathe that phrase.

Maybe my memory is failing me, but I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s and became an adult in the 1990s, and I honestly don't remember being told to pull ahead and wait for food every other time I went through a drive thru.

Back in the day they'd take your order, take your money, hand you your food, and you'd drive away.

That was the whole concept.

Fast food.

Now they take your money and then send you into a parking lot with no clue whether you're going to be waiting two minutes or twenty.

As I write this, I've been sitting here for over nine minutes waiting for two biscuits with a little icing drizzled on top.

Somehow this has become normal.

In fact, many chains have built it right into the business model. There are entire sections of parking lots now dedicated to people who have already ordered, already paid, and are now waiting.

Can we even call it fast food anymore?

Maybe we should call it "pay first and we'll get around to it eventually food."

What irritates me most is that the customer is expected to absorb all the inconvenience.

You wait in line to order..
You wait in line to pay..
Then you're told to pull into a parking space and wait some more.

Maybe you've only got fifteen minutes before work, or you're running errands. Maybe you just wanted a quick coffee and breakfast sandwich. Well that's a shame. Because now your schedule belongs to the drive thru.

And don't even get me started on mobile ordering apps.

When those first came out, I thought they were going to be revolutionary. I remember thinking, "This is fantastic. I'll order ahead, show up, grab my food, and be on my way." Boy was I wrong.

Half the time you place your order fifteen or twenty minutes in advance, drive to the restaurant, and they don't even start preparing it until you arrive.

Then they send you to one of those designated waiting spots while they finish making the food you ordered twenty minutes ago.

How exactly is that progress?

One place that actually seems to understand convenience is Little Caesars.

I place my order on the app, I choose a pickup time, and when the pizza is ready, I get a notification. I simply walk in, enter my code at the Pizza Portal, the little door pops open, I grab my pizza, and I'm gone.

No waiting.

No guessing.

No sitting in a parking lot staring at my dashboard wondering if they've forgotten about me.

That's what technology is supposed to do.

That's what automation is supposed to accomplish.

It's supposed to make life easier.

It's supposed to streamline the process.

Instead, a lot of modern fast food feels like it's been optimized for the restaurant instead of the customer.

The wait hasn't disappeared, it's just been moved.

What's funny is that this whole trend has actually helped me cut back on fast food.

There have been plenty of times I've driven past a restaurant, thought about stopping for a quick bite, saw the line wrapped around the building, and decided it simply wasn't worth the hassle.

Nothing makes a burger less appealing than realizing you're about to spend half your lunch break trying to get it.

Maybe that's the silver lining.

The older I get, the less patience I have for sitting around in parking lots waiting on food that was supposed to be fast in the first place.

We were told technology would save us time. Instead, we're checking apps, entering codes, scanning QR menus, creating accounts, tracking orders, and sometimes still sitting in a parking lot waiting for a sandwich.

If all this technology is supposed to save time, why does it feel like I'm spending more time than ever just trying to buy lunch? Maybe it’s time I slow down and stop expecting the food I order to be fast all the time. Lately I've been skipping it more and more, so maybe I should lean into that. Heck.. Might even make me healthier, and probably a little more patient in the long run.

The Little Jar That Keeps My Mother's Memory Alive

 

Six months after losing my mom, I'm still trying to figure out how to live in a world without her.

People talk about grief as if it follows some kind of schedule. It does not.

Some days are manageable. Some days are awful. Some days a random song, smell, or memory can hit you out of nowhere and bring everything rushing back.

Lately, one of those reminders has come from something as simple as a jar of preserves.

For years, my mom loved Bonne Maman preserves. She'd tell me they were the best because they had simple ingredients. No high fructose corn syrup. No long list of things you can't pronounce. Just a handful of ingredients and real fruit.

Mom was never one to chase trends. She liked things that worked. She liked quality. She liked simplicity. And honestly.. she was usually right.

The other day I was standing in the grocery store looking at preserves. I picked up a few different brands and started reading the labels. Some seemed to have an endless list of ingredients. Then I saw the familiar Bonne Maman jars.

The little checkered lid.

The simple label.

The brand my mom always bought.

I knew it cost a couple dollars more, but I also knew I wasn't going to go through a jar every week. So I bought it.

Mom's favorite.

Since then, it's become a small morning ritual.

If I'm not having eggs and toast, I'll make a couple slices of healthy toast, add a tiny bit of butter, and spread on some Bonne Maman preserves. Then I'll sit down with my coffee.

Mom always loved her coffee.

As I sit there, I find myself looking at that simple little jar. The checkered lid. The straightforward label. Nothing fancy. Nothing flashy. In fact, the design is so simple it almost looks like something you could make at home.

And every morning I kept looking at those words:

'Bonne Maman'.

Deep in the back of my mind, I started wondering if "maman" might mean mom.

I never looked it up.

Until today.

Sure enough, I discovered that Bonne Maman roughly translates to "good mother."

I just sat there staring at the jar.

Now, maybe that's a coincidence.

Maybe it's just one of those strange little connections that happen in life.

Or maybe everything is connected in ways we don't fully understand.

I don't know.

What I do know is this:

The meaning didn't create the connection.

The connection was already there.

This wasn't some random product I discovered yesterday. This was my mom's favorite preserve for years. It was already tied to memories of her. It was already part of my morning routine. It was already bringing me comfort.

Learning what the name meant simply put words to a feeling that was already there.

As we get older, I think many of us start realizing how often our parents were right.

Not about everything. Nobody is.

But about many of the things that matter.

Quality over hype.

Simple over complicated.

Real ingredients over artificial ones.

Taking care of yourself.

Paying attention.

Living within your means.

Appreciating the little things.

What seemed like a preference when I was younger now feels more like wisdom.

The truth is, this post isn't really about preserves. It's about how the people we love never completely leave us.

They show up in recipes.

They show up in habits.

They show up in morning coffee.

They show up in things they taught us decades ago that suddenly make sense. And sometimes they even show up in a little jar sitting on a kitchen table.

Losing your mother is one of the hardest things a person can experience. If you've been through it, you know exactly what I mean. There are days when it's difficult to find any warmth, comfort, or light in the situation.

But every once in a while, life gives you a small gift.

A memory.

A reminder.

A connection.

Something that makes you smile before the tears come.

For me, that gift came in the form of a jar of Bonne Maman preserves.

And as strange as it sounds, I know I'll be buying it for the rest of my life.

Every morning when I open that little jar, I'll think About Mom.

And that's a pretty good way to start the day.

It Took Me 50 Years to Realize We Were in the Struggle

One day it just hits you.

You're sitting there in your fifties thinking about your childhood when suddenly you realize something that never occurred to you as a kid.

We were in the struggle and I never even knew it. The Reagan era was especially hard on my parents. My dad owned a small business, and there were times I'm sure he wondered how they were going to make it, and even came close to closing business. 

Mom and Dad never sat us down and talked about money problems. They never complained. They simply figured it out. They protected my brother and me from the stress so we could have what every kid deserves, a childhood.

As a kid, I never noticed any of that. I used to brown bag of my lunch from the time I was in first grade. When I finally got a metal lunch box, it was the only one I would ever have during the rest of my time spent in school. It was my black Star Wars lunch box from the late seventies.

Every school year I would see other kids showing up with shiny new lunch boxes from the latest movies and cartoons. I wanted one too. But looking back now, I understand why I never got one.

That money was going toward school clothes, shoes, groceries, and bills.

Mom had a way of stretching everything. Ham hocks turned into stew. Ground beef became a week of meals. Government cheese became quesadillas cooked right on the electric stove burner because we did not have a microwave. 

Every night after working all day cooking for hundreds of school kids, Mom would come home and cook another meal from scratch for us.

I thought that was just life.

Maybe it should have been.

We never went without food, but we also never wasted anything. My dad taught me something that stuck with me even more over time. If something broke, you fixed it. If something still had life in it, you kept using it. He had that old saying in spirit, "use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without".

 I didn’t realize it then, but that wasn’t just about saving money. It was about respecting what you already had. Sometimes he even made things better than they were before, not by replacing them, but by repairing them and learning how to take care of them. 

Dad Had a nacht for improving on a components design, making it better than the factory did and preventing it from breaking or wearing out again!

Our vacations were not fancy. They were camping trips or drives into the Colorado mountains. Sandwiches packed from home. Simple days that cost almost nothing.. but somehow gave us everything we needed. Peace, quiet, and time together.

My grandmother took that same idea even further. A Depression era Oklahoma farm girl, she could make something out of nothing. She sewed clothes for family, baked pies from fruit she had canned herself, and kept a pantry that could carry a family through winter. Nothing was wasted. Everything had a purpose.

As I got older, I drifted away from that mindset for a while. Like a lot of people, I started thinking happiness was tied to more. More money. More things. More status. I had to learn the hard way that it does not work that way.

My dad used to tell me to lead a simple life as much as I could.

It took me decades to understand what he meant.

These days I can sit down with a couple pieces of toast, a little butter and cherry preserves, and a cup of coffee and feel completely content. Not because life is perfect, but because I finally understand what I was given.

I was not raised with abundance because we had a lot.

I was raised with abundance because my parents and grandparents knew how to create it out of almost nothing.

More Than a Theme Song: Why Mr. Belvedere Had One of Television's Smartest Openings

Some television theme songs are catchy. Some tell you who the characters are. A few become nostalgic time capsules that instantly take you back to a certain place and time.

Then there is Mr. Belvedere.

The theme song, "According to Our New Arrival," performed by Leon Redbone and written by Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart Angelo, did something most sitcom theme songs never even attempted. It explained the entire premise, philosophy, and emotional heart of the show in less than a minute.

The older I get, the more I appreciate just how clever it really was.

Here are the lyrics..

Streaks on the china

Never mattered before

Who cared?

When you drop kicked your jacket

As you came through through the door

No one glared

But, sometimes things get

Turned around

And no one's spared

All hands look out below!

There's a change in the status quo

We're gonna need all the help that we can get

According to our new arrival

Life is more than mere survival

And we just might live the good life yet

A Show About More Than a Housekeeper

On the surface, Mr. Belvedere was about a British gentleman named Lynn Belvedere who becomes a live in housekeeper for the Owens family in Pittsburgh.

George Owens played by the late, great, Bob Eucker.. was a sportswriter. Marsha Owens was balancing family life while pursuing a law career. The kids were typical kids. The house was busy, loud, messy, and often chaotic.

Then.. Mr. Belvedere arrived.

Most people remember the show as a fish out of water comedy. A refined British gentleman trying to survive in a middle class American household. But the show was really about something deeper. It was about what happens when someone enters your life and quietly raises your expectations.

The Meaning Behind the Opening Lyrics

The song begins with lines about streaks on the china and dropping your jacket on the floor without anyone caring.

At first glance, those seem like simple observations about housekeeping. They are not. Those lyrics describe a family that has become comfortable with disorder. Not bad people. Not lazy people. Just people who have settled into routines that are good enough.

The Owens family was surviving. Mr. Belvedere wanted them to do more than survive. He wanted them to thrive. That idea becomes crystal clear in the most important lyric of the entire song:

"According to our new arrival, life is more than mere survival."

That single line may be the best summary of the entire series. Belvedere was not trying to create a perfect family. He was encouraging them to become the best version of themselves. Read more, learn more, take pride in your home, improve your habits, expect more from yourself. Those themes appeared over and over throughout the show's six season run

The Real Plot of Mr. Belvedere

Many sitcoms are built around funny situations, but Mr. Belvedere was built around personal growth. Every week the Owens family faced a problem, challenge, misunderstanding, or life lesson. Belvedere was usually the person who helped them see things differently

What made the show work so well was that he was not perfect either. He could be stubborn, judgmental, and overly confident. The family changed him just as much as he changed them

That is why another lyric in the song stands out:

"Sometimes things get turned around, and no one's spared."

Yes, everybody grows, everybody changes and nobody remains exactly the same. That was the real story

Why Leon Redbone Was the Perfect Choice

A huge part of the theme song's charm comes from Leon Redbone's performance. His voice sounded like it came from another era. While most television themes of the 1980s embraced contemporary pop music, Redbone brought a sound that felt decades older.

That was perfect for Mr. Belvedere himself. The Owens family represented modern America. Belvedere represented old world refinement, manners, and tradition. Even before the first scene began, the music was already telling us everything we needed to know about the character.

The Theme Song Was the Show

What makes "According to Our New Arrival" so memorable is that it was not simply introducing the characters.

It was introducing an idea. The idea that one person can walk into your life and inspire you to do better. Not through lectures, not through force, but through example.

That is why the final message of the song still resonates today.

The Owens family was not looking for a better life.

Yet because of Mr. Belvedere, they discovered they might actually find one.

"And we just might live the good life yet."

That line was never really about money or success, it was about growth and becoming more than you were yesterday. For a sitcom that many people remember as a lighthearted family comedy, that is a surprisingly profound message. And that's why decades later, the theme song remains one of the smartest and most meaningful openings in television history (in my humble opinion).

Final Thoughts

When I was younger, I enjoyed Mr. Belvedere because it was funny. Watching it now, I appreciate it for a completely different reason. The show understood something simple but important. Sometimes the most valuable person in our lives is not the one who makes us comfortable. It's the one who challenges us to be better. That was Mr. Belvedere's role in the Owens household. 

From the very first note of that wonderful theme song, the series told us exactly what it was all about and dropped some great philosophy to boot.  Maybe that's why I remember it after all these years.

The Psychology Behind Revisiting Forgotten 80s and 90s TV

There is a strange little phenomenon I have been thinking about and I'm not even sure it has a proper name.. but it definitely feels real in a way that is hard to ignore once you notice it.

It's the feeling of being drawn back to television shows or cultural moments you were technically around for when they were new, maybe even saw here and there, but never really committed to at the time. 

Not favorites. Not childhood obsessions. Just things that were part of the background noise of life. 

Then decades later.. something shifts and suddenly there is curiosity, even a kind of pull, like you want to go back and actually see what was going on there.

Not because you miss it exactly. It is more like you want to complete a missing piece of your own timeline. One example that keeps sticking with me is that old television show 'Mr. Belvedere'. I was never really a fan of it back then. I might have watched a half episode here or there, but it was never something I followed. It was just part of that great television landscape of the 1980s.

And now, years later, I find myself thinking I actually want to go back and watch it. Not because I suddenly think it was underrated or because I feel nostalgic in a traditional sense, but because I want to understand what that whole package actually was. 

I want to see the acting, especially from Bob Uecker, who plays the father in the series, and understand how all of it worked together in context. It's kind of like I only ever experienced the “thumbnail” version of it.

And then there's 'In the Heat of the Night', which is almost the opposite emotional experience. That was something I actually did watch occasionally growing up, mostly because you watched what was on in a household where the remote control was not exactly a democratic instrument. Long Story Short.. if the parents were watching television, you pretty much had to watch what they were watching at that moment.

What stands out now about 'In the Heat of the Night' is not just the show itself, but the feeling of it. It was gritty in a way that modern television often smooths over. It did not always resolve things neatly. Sometimes there was no clean ending, no satisfying moral bow tied around the story. Sometimes things just happened. A case ended, but not emotionally. A situation was solved but not fully understood.

As a kid that can feel unsatisfying. As an adult it feels more like realism. Now I find myself strangely drawn to it again, especially because it is available to stream at any time, and on free TV, played on a 24 hour loop on its own dedicated free channel. There is something about being able to drop into that world instantly that changes the relationship entirely. It is no longer “a show that used to be on.” It becomes an environment you can enter whenever you want.

And part of what I am really drawn to is the era itself. The cars, the clothes, the way people talk, the pacing of scenes. It is not just entertainment. It is a preserved slice of time. It is almost like walking through a museum where everything still moves and speaks.

Another such example that really surprises myself is 'Baywatch Nights'.

Back when it was new.. I remember hearing about it and kind of rolling my eyes. It already had a reputation in my head without me ever watching it. It was a spin off of something massive, and the premise sounded like it was trying to stretch itself into something it obviously was not.

At the time I did not have any interest in it at all. But now there is a different kind of curiosity. Especially knowing how the show shifted in tone after ratings floundered. It eventually leaned into supernatural and strange storylines kind of like X-Files. 

That kind of behind the scenes evolution is interesting in a way it never would have been when I was younger. It is not just “is this good or bad.” It is “what were they trying to do here and how did it change over time.” That is a very different way of watching television than the way we consumed it originally.

So I keep coming back to this idea that something has changed in how we relate to old media. It is not just nostalgia. It is not just memory. It feels more like selective reconnection.

We are drawn to things we were adjacent to, rather than fully immersed in. We are drawn to cultural artifacts that existed around us but were never fully processed. And now, with everything available on demand, there is almost an instinct to go back and fill in those gaps.

There is also something comforting about it that I did not expect. Not comfort in the sense of “this reminds me of childhood,” but comfort in structure. Older shows just had a slower rhythm. They are not optimized for constant stimulation. They take their time. Even when things are tense, they breathe differently than modern television.

And maybe that is part of it too. In a world where everything feels fast and compressed, going back to something slower, even something slightly cheesy or uneven, can feel grounding.

But I think the deeper thing.. is this idea that we are not always revisiting what we loved. Sometimes we are revisiting what we barely noticed.

The shows we half watched. The theme songs we remember more clearly than the plots. The series we dismissed but still absorbed through cultural osmosis. And now, years later, we finally have the time, the access, and maybe even the perspective to actually see what was there. Not as kids. Not as background noise. But maybe as something we are ready to finally understand.

The day they took away the good coffee

We’re creatures of habit. At least I know I am.

I don’t know about you, but when little things in my life suddenly change, even small things.. it throws me off more than it probably should. It actually irks me, disappoints me and sometimes it changes the whole mood of the day.

This morning I stopped into the local Speedway next to work. It’s one of those convenience stores that’s actually owned by 7-Eleven now, and honestly, they’ve stepped up their game lately when it comes to coffee and food.

They had two fresh ground coffee machines there. The kind that grinds the beans before every cup, and one of them made the most incredible Brazilian coffee. It was hands down the best coffee I’ve ever had from a convenience store. 

The beans were ground fresh right in the machine while it brewed your cup. I drank it black every time because it was that smooth. No bitterness. No harsh acidity. Just rich, fresh coffee with that beautiful little layer of foam sitting on top.

It became part of my routine.

Well.. this morning I walked in with a friend before work, and immediately something felt off. One of the machines was gone.

Of course it was the Brazilian coffee machine.

Both of us just stood there staring at the empty spot like someone had removed a landmark overnight. It sounds ridiculous saying it out loud, but we were genuinely disappointed. 

That coffee had become the best brewed coffee around for miles.

So there we were, less than enthusiastic, filling up cups of Colombian blend instead, trying to convince ourselves it was “good enough.”

Then an Orange County sheriff’s deputy walked up behind us. Someone we recognized.

She looked over, stopped dead in her tracks, and said, “Oh my God. Where’s the other coffee machine?”

Immediately she started saying the exact same thing we were thinking.

“I needed that Brazilian coffee. How am I supposed to get through the day now?”

I laughed and told her, “I guess they don’t want us having strong good strong coffee anymore.”

And suddenly the three of us were standing around mourning a coffee machine like it was an old friend.

That’s when it hit me how much people cling to routines and little comforts.

I’m a simple guy. I don’t ask for much. But that coffee had quietly become part of my mornings. Especially on those rough days when you’re dragging into work half awake, it was the perfect pick me up.

Such a small thing, yet somehow it managed to throw me off balance first thing in the morning.

The Colombian coffee was okay, I guess. But I had to drown it in cream because it was more acidic. The Brazilian coffee was smooth enough to drink black, which for me says everything.

Humans are funny like that.

We get comfortable with certain little things in life. A favorite item on a restaurant menu. A certain routine. A familiar product on a shelf. Then one day it disappears without warning, and it leaves this weird little hole in your day.

Not life changing. Not tragic.

Just… off.

And somehow those tiny changes can affect us more than we’d ever admit.

C'mon McDonald's.. you're killing me. (but not in the way you'd think)

I saw something recently that pretty much sealed it for me. McDonald’s is phasing out self serve soda fountains from dining rooms. Some locations already have. Others will follow. And for someone like me who actually likes to sit down, take a few minutes, and enjoy a meal, that one change feels bigger than it should. It feels like a message.

Don’t stay..

Get your food and go.

That’s really what this whole thing has turned into over the last decade. And honestly, it’s been bothering me for a while, I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it until now.

McDonald’s didn’t just modernize. It stripped itself down. Dehumanized itself, and lost its soul 

I’m not naive. It’s a business. It’s always been about making money. But it used to feel like there was another layer to it. There was some kind of human element baked into the experience. You were being served, not processed.

Now it feels like you’re purposely ignored and ironically, being herded like cattle.

The stores themselves tell the whole story. Walk into one today and it’s all gray, brown, and sterile. Clean, sure. Efficient, sure. But there’s no life in it. No personality. No reason to stay longer than you absolutely have to.

And that feels intentional.

Compare that to places that actually want you to sit for a bit. Even somewhere like Starbucks figured this out. Comfortable seating, a little bit of atmosphere, something that says it’s okay to exist here for a minute.

 McDonald’s went the complete opposite direction. Hard seats, bland surroundings, nothing to look at, nothing to feel. Eat and move along.

Maybe that’s the whole strategy now. Drive thru. Delivery apps. Quick turnover. Minimal interaction. Fewer employees. Less cost. More volume.

I get it.

I just don’t like it.

Because I remember what it used to be.

I grew up when McDonald’s actually felt fun. Bright colors. Weird little details everywhere. Hamburger shaped stools. Murals on the walls. Playgrounds outside where kids could burn off energy. 

You’d sit inside and people watch while sipping a soda and eating fries that somehow tasted better back then. When I was a little boy, I remember servers would even come back from behind the counter and top off people's coffee. Some would even toss me a little bag of McDonaldland cookies on occasion.

That's customer service. That's humanity. The real interactions and smiles behind the counter. Little moments that made it feel like a place, not just a transaction.

I even met Ronald McDonald a couple times as a kid. He would regularly make stops at the different McDonald's taking pictures with the kids, signing autographs, handing out little bags of McDonald's swag to the youngsters. That stuff sticks with you.

And it wasn’t just childhood nostalgia either. Even into the late 90s and early 2000s, taking my own kids there still felt like something. The restaurants were big. They were busy. There was energy. It felt alive.

Now it feels like a waiting room.

During my last visit, it kind of hit me all at once. Sitting there, looking around, realizing I didn’t want to be there any longer than necessary. And that’s when it clicked.

I’m probably done dining inside McDonald’s.

Not out of anger. Just… reality.

I’ll still hit the drive thru once in a while, especially for breakfast. That taste is still familiar. It still connects to a lot of good core memories. That part hasn’t changed much.

But the experience around it? That’s gone. And for me, that matters more than I realized.

Living here in Florida now, I’ve got a White Castle nearby with more being built soon. That’s probably going to be my go to when I want a burger fix. Funny how that comes full circle too, considering I ended up in their Craver Hall of Fame back in 2013. That’s a story for another day, but yeah, there’s history there. At least it still feels like something.

Maybe I’m just old school. Maybe I’m missing the point entirely and this is exactly what people want now. Fast, efficient, no interaction, no lingering.

If that’s the case, then McDonald’s is doing exactly what it set out to do. However for me, it feels like the end of something.

Not just a menu or a dining room feature, but an era where even a quick cheap meal had a little bit of warmth to it. A little bit of personality. A little bit of humanity.

I’ll still go back once in a while, take a bite, and probably get hit with a wave of nostalgia, but I think it’s time to start building new memories somewhere else.

Somewhere that still feels like it actually wants you there.