"Because Mad Cow Disease was already taken."

Case you were wondering, I'm still at the bank, still doing what I was doing before. It's not so bad, I guess. I won't do it forever, but it's mostly harmless.

Anyway, when I'm processing checks at the end of the day, I have a tendency to hum songs to myself. Most of the time the machine is loud enough that nobody notices the songs, and the music I like doesn't really appeal to most of my workmates, who tend to go in more for country. But anyway, lately I've been on something of an Elton John kick, and some of his stuff has snuck into my recent humming repertoire. Today, it was a few selections from Tumbleweed Connection, one of which actually got recognized, much to my surprise. And of course, her recognition necessitated a funny response. Because that's just the kind of guy I am. To wit:

Female coworker: "Hey, is that 'My Father's Gun'?"

Me: "I dunno... did he put his name on it?"

I'm here all week, folks.

Snack time, anytime.

The other night, I was feeling a bit peckish after catching a movie, so I ducked into a sub shop that stayed open late. There were no customers in the store and only one guy behind the counter, so he engaged me in a little friendly conversation.

"Nothing like a sandwich, right?... Man, I could eat a sandwich anytime... I could've just had something to eat, and if someone said 'hey man, you want a sandwich?' I'd probably say yes. Know what I'm talking about?"

First off- now THIS is how you converse with a customer. Of course, it helps if you're a genial guy in the first place, but still, this is how it's done. Since it was a sandwich shop, tips weren't expected, so I doubt he was angling for one. Instead, he just wanted to be friendly, while still respecting the boundaries inherent in the customer/employee relationship. As you might have guessed, I appreciated it.

But his statement got me thinking- what sort of food could I eat anytime? I'm not talking about rich, fancy dishes that require lots of preparation so you only eat them when you're dining out. I'm talking about the food you reach for when you're at home and you're not necessarily starving but you just want a quick and easy snack. Like cereal for Seinfeld or that old lady who eats Stella D'oro Breakfast Treats at midnight in the old commercial.

Me, I'm partial to toast. Doesn't need to be all dolled up with fancy preserves or anything- a smear of butter will suffice. But toast just hits the spot anytime, anywhere. I wonder if it has anything to do with a subconscious connection I've made between toast and feeling better, since whenever I was sick as a child the first thing I'd try to eat would be toast. But trying to pair up childhood causes with adult effects doesn't matter here, just what tastes good to me. Rye is my toast of choice, but really, any toast'll do.

What about you folks? What's your default anytime comfort food?

Road tripping

I don't normally watch much television, but I caught some this past weekend when I was visiting my folks. One of the commercials that really lodged its way into my memory was for a particularly family-friendly SUV, with cushy fold-down captain's chairs in the back and not one but two video monitors. Now, I realize that TVs in vehicles are nothing new. After all, I saw Silent Light. But I still felt more than a little uneasy about the idea.

I suppose this has more than a little to do with my own childhood road trips, in which there was no television to watch on the road, although even if there were my parents probably wouldn't have allowed more than a teensy bit. I'm sure some of the younger ones out there might be wondering what we did on the road without TV to entertain us. Well, I'll tell you. We listened to the radio, we put on some music, or- dig this- we just talked.

The more I think about my youth, the more I realize that it wasn't always the major events that made the biggest dent in my consciousness. I don't remember some of my vacations all that well, but I have no problem picturing the drive in my mind. Mom and dad in front, alternating driving duties, with my brother and I sprawled out in the back of the minivan amongst the luggage. Likewise, I'll always associate certain things with the road. A long drive out to camp with dad meant sports on the radio, usually a Cleveland Indians game (then announced by Tom Hamilton and Herb Score) or Cavaliers basketball (called, then as now, by the great Joe Tait). I don't think I've ever listened to a book on tape except when I've been on the road, with or without family. Nothing says a late-night drive down a country road quite like the songs of Glen Campbell. And we'd do a lot of talking, even over the music or the book tapes- nothing very profound of course, but it was probably the longest consecutive parcel of time we had together for the entire summer, so we'd make the most of it.

I could speculate all day about what the proliferation of TVs in our nation's family automobiles means- a fascination with electronic gizmos, cross-promotional shenanigans between the automakers and the electronics giants, even the a la carte entertainment ideology that seeks to keep everyone diverted by giving every single person what he wants (divide and conquer?). But that's a subject for another time, and perhaps another place. All I can think of now is that something has been lost. The family car trip, once a bonding experience, a few days' worth of "quality time" spent en route to a destination and back again, has reverted back to its most basic form, some slow time required to get you to where you really want to be. The televisions may pass the time and distract the kids from the drive, but the truth is that we never needed them before. The only entertainment we really needed was buckled into the other seats, headed for the same place we were, and we'd all be arriving at the exact same time.