New Favorite Quote

“The free-lance writer is a man who is paid per piece or per word or perhaps.”

~ Robert Benchley

And all the writer’s said….”Amen!”

Now’s The Time

This is an article I wrote several years ago, and never got around to sending to anyone. It seemed like an appropriate post for today…

Enjoy,

-Perk

NOW’S THE TIME

 

By Perry P. Perkins

 

 

I watched, along with the rest of the world, in numb disbelief. 

 

As the second tower crumbled, even the savvy newscaster was lost for words, and an echoing silence filled my living room. 

 

When I picked up the phone, I dialed the familiar number of a long time friend and fishing partner.  We had planned to feign illness that Wednesday and hit the road for our favorite river, hoping for an early October Caddis hatch.   Bry’s voice was subdued when he answered and the usual cheerful riot of children was only silence in the background. 

 

We had been through a lot of life together.  Though only a few years my junior, he had been one of my students my first year teaching.  He had stood beside me at my wedding, and I had stood beside him at his.

 

There was a time when I mocked his use of the fly rod, sticking stubbornly to my spinning gear.  He would laugh, casting his specks of thread and feathers, and endure my merciless chortling as I dredged trout from the bottom of the creek with worm and weight.

 

He didn’t even harangue me (too much) when I finally came around to the siren song of the fly rod.

 

Twice our trips were cut short, rods and vests were tossed atop still-dripping waders, and a mad dash was made for home as his wife ungraciously went into early labor on opening weekend of trout season. (Twice, mind you!)   When I held his first born in my arms early one spring morning, my boots were still seeping river water into the hospital carpet. 

 

Later we stood in the parking lot and smoked the cigars I had packed for sharing around the campfire that night.

 

We have gotten lost together in some of the most breathtakingly beautiful places in all God’s creation.  Shadowy mountain streams, gurgling their way through towering, moss- enshrouded forests, frozen lakes lying in secret among the dips and valleys of the Cascade mountains, even great, frothing coastal rivers, roaring and swollen with winter floods. 

 

We have stood together in these places, angle in hand, surveying the majesty that surrounded us, and asked one another, “So, where in the hell are we?”

 

There was the great, smoking, beige boat of a station wagon, early eighties vintage, that he pulled up to my door in, grinning with pride at his new “fishing car”.  My hound pup did the honor of inaugurating the back seat on that maiden voyage, much to the owner’s outrage. I have eaten cold burgers in the front seat and sizzling steaks, fresh from the campfire, sitting on the back bumper, the sun dipping below the canyon walls and casting long purple shadows across the desert floor.

 

We have trudged water up the side of Mt. Hood to refill a steaming radiator and tied sloppy flies on the dashboard.  I wasn’t there the day that the wagon was finally towed away to its eternal rest, but I’ve somehow always felt cheated, like a friend uninvited to the funeral.

 

As I read back over what I have written here, it has the feel of a eulogy, and I’m reminded of a saying that my Grandmother, long passed on, was fond of… 

 

“If you think there’s praise that due him, now’s the time to give it to him, for he cannot read his gravestone once he’s gone.”

 

And I realize that I want my friend to know, now, that I treasure those long hours that we have plied the rivers together. 

 

The words that have passed between us on the way there and back again. 

 

I want him to know that he is more than just the guy I call when the trout come whispering to me in my sleep, but that he is my friend. So that when time finally does come calling, or should the river chooses keep him one winter morning, or God forbid he finds himself in a building that comes crashing to the ground, I want him to know that I would return to our favorite waters. 

 

I would cast my bits of thread and feather into the eddies, and although some of the joy would be gone from it, I would still catch fish, and I would remember him.

 

And, I know he would do the same.

 

The day following that great devastation found me standing in the river with my friend. Beneath the glare of the desert sun and the shadow of tragedy, the murmur of the current was a soft soothing song of comfort. The trout were rising with abandon, and the fishing was wonderful.

 

-Perry

 

For Bryan

September 18, 2001

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Argument for Creationism

Hey all,

Here’s one I’m working on for “Marriage Partnership Magazine”…

The Argument for Creationism
Perry P. Perkins

Often, as a young Christian man without a family, I would spend hours arguing the rational of creationism. This is because I had a deep understanding of God’s plan for mankind, and a thirst to share that knowledge…or possibly because I couldn’t find a girlfriend.

I would quote the latest scientific literature, delve deeply into the relevant scriptures and historical references, sprinkling it all with a healthy measure of my own sense of self-importance, and my disdain at the thought of my forefathers swinging by their tails (their necks maybe…but not their tails.)

If only I had known that instead of all of those hours reading and study to form an argument for creationism…I could have just had a child.

Having now, as a stay-at-home father, spent countless hours in exhaustive research (by which I mean the ten minutes immediately preceding the writing of this article, once Jeopardy was over) I have discovered that there is no way that the human race could possibly have survived the natural selection process.

This is because all of us (with the possible exception of H. Ross Perot) started out as babies, and babies, from the moment they awake are preoccupied with only two thoughts:

1. How can I get that (toy, food, chainsaw, etc) into my hand/mouth/nose/or any additional orifice?

2. Once I have that in my hand (etc, etc), how can I kill myself with it.

Seriously, I’m fairly certain that my daughter spends a third of each day gauging the possible effects of plunging everything around her into her eyes. Another third is spent in measuring each object she finds (including the dog) to see if she can lodge it in her throat.  And finally, the last third is spent in detailed analysis of just what household object would create the longest fall to the floor, giving extra points for subsequent bounces.

I’m convinced that these reflections are for the sole purpose of bursting into tears, screaming as loudly as possible, and basically making her parents wonder what kind of a benevolent God would allow morons like us to have a child.

For some examples of how this understanding negates any chance of an evolutionary process, let’s go back a million-billion years (or whatever carbon-dating says this week) and take a look at our supposed forebears…

Scenario 1:

1. Caveman and Cavewoman learn to create fire.
2. Cave man and Cavewoman have (according to popular fiction writers) some VERY explicit sex…thereby creating cavebaby.
3. Cavebaby immediately flings itself into the fire.
4. Caveman and Cavewoman choose to domestic the dog, instead of having more children.

Scenario 2:

1. Cavemen learn to hunt in groups, thereby providing more substantial protein sources to feed their family-clans through the winter.
2. Caveman learns to use tools and create the means to carry these enormous carcasses back to their caves.
3. Cavebaby immediately chokes to death in an attempt to swallow a whole mastodon…which it probably found under the couch.

Scenario 3:

1. Caveman and Cavewoman learn to build shelters to better follow the migrating herds that provide their food.
2. Caveman, after putting cavebaby down for her nap, kicks back to watch Jeopardy.
3. Cavebaby, as yet unable to sit up or crawl, seizes the opportunity, and manages to climb the near-vertical sides of the tee-pee, and immediately flings herself to the frozen tundra, and then rolls into the fire…while choking on a mastodon.

These may lead you to think… “Hey, those cavemen look a lot like H. Ross Perot!”

But no, what it should lead you to think is that there is no way that ancient cave dwellers, who didn’t even have the benefit of a gazillion-dollar “Babies-R-Us” industry to make sure that their unscented, chemical-free baby-wipes were kept at an optimal temperature, could have possibly raised an infant to an age that it could survive on it’s own.
(Currently this age is 37 ½, but may have been younger back then…)

Here’s my own, brief, scenario of what actually happened…

Adam & Eve: “Hey, we just ate from the tree of knowledge! Now we know everything that God knows! We can handle any situation that arises with wisdom and understanding!”

God: Oh yeah? *Poof*

Adam & Eve: “Hey…what’s that?”

God: “You can call him Cain.”

Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to run. My daughter is on the roof again, and she may be choking on the dog.

Thank god the mastodons are extinct.

-Perry

I’d be naked without…

  Okay, okay…that was something of a sensationalist (and frightening) title, I know.

Here’s what happened…

Yesterday morning, by accident, I forgot to put my Leatherman on my belt. All was well until noon when I needed to open a box here at work, reached for my Leatherman and realized, to my horror, that it was at home!

It wasn’t so much that I HAD to have it for that particular job, it was just the idea of ALL the things that MIGHT come up, and here I was…defenseless!

It was a sad thing.

That got me thinking…I have a tendency to pack for safari every morning before I leave, (that sound you hear is my wife snorting with laughter…) filling my pockets and my “utility belt” with my “must-have-with-me” items.

Here are a few, with explanations:

1. Above mentioned Leatherman

I use this thing several times a day. Opening boxes of supplies, adjusting a myriad of printers and toys, and pulling the occasional errant nose-hair with the pliers.

2. Mini-bic lighter

Old boy-scout issues. Never leave home without a means of making fire. I’m not sure if I’m concerned about finding myself hopelessly lost in the woods on the five minute drive from home to work (though it COULD happen…) I’m just used to having it. Used to be a Zippo, but I got tired of it always being on empty form lack of use.

3. Cell phone

My new cell is actually a phone, email-getter, camera, and web-browser all in one, allowing me to blog from any location. I haven’t done that yet, but I COULD!

4. Mini Notepad & Pen

Okay, now that I have the uber-phone, this is a somewhat redundant item. I’ve lost any number of “Great American Novel” ideas (at least I like to think so) over the years, from not having anywhere to jot the idea down.

5. Shoes

Okay, I know this one sounds strange, but I almost never leave the house without “real” shoes on. No sandals or flip-flops (I’ll pack those for trips to the beach or the river.) Always in the back of my mind is the niggling fear that my car will break down and I’ll have to walk, or a giant asteroid will strike the earth and my survival will depend on a solid, dependable shoe.

Yeah, yeah…I’m a freak.

So, what would you be “naked without” and why?

-Perk

Summer Movies

Hey all,

Went and saw “Pirates 3″ yesterday and thought it was great! Saw the previews for “Transformers” and, as much as I want to mock it, it looks like it might be good.

Okay, I’m going out on a limb (and setting myself up for massive abuse, I’m sure) but I’ll post a few verses I wrote years back about summer movies. But first of all, I wanted to get your thoughts on this summers upcoming attractions.

The top three I’m looking forward to…

 

1.  “Ocean’s 13“:  Okay the 2nd movie sucked, we all know that, but I’m really hoping they get back to the fun of 11.

2. “Live Free or Die Hard” (Die Hard 4): Because I just…love…the diehard movies. Even the bad one (2) was awesome.

3. “The Bourne Ultimatum“: See #2

What about you guys? What are you looking forward to?

Okay, so about the poem.

When I was a kid we used to buy a roll of tickets every summer and go see old (or older) movies once a week at the Gresham Theater. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Pippy Longstockings, The Black Stallion…same movies every summer.

Loved it.

We very seldom went to “new” movies, as they were out of our budget, so this was our big “summer treat” every year.

Sooo…if poetry makes you gag, stop reading here. If not, you were warned:

-Perk

I Remember Summer Movies

I remember summer movies,Dust and dripping butter in the humid gloom
Long hot walks on burning concrete, bus fare saved for cokes.
Dressed in k-mart clothes.

The old theater, past her prime. A tired starlet of better days.
Wrinkles showed through each years paintWorn red carpet, thinned by a million Keds,
the only air conditioner we knew.

My first friends I met there,Pippy Longstocking, Herbie, Black beauty, Benji.
Unworthy of the shining, unsoiled multiplex,
Scorned, the dollar show, we understood.

That long roll of paper tickets, faded cherry-slurpie red,were our Hawaii,
our Disneyland on twenty bucks,beneath the stained and flickering screen.

Ma laughed and cried in the same places every year.
Ninety minutes of escape, from her thirsty, monochrome world.
Did I really love the movies?
Or that they gave her something to give to me?
Both, I think.

I Guess I’m Whipped…

Hey all, 

Wow, yesterday’s post was a hoot!  I did, however, get a couple of personal emails that insinuated (or flat out said) that I’m “whipped.” 

Example subject lines:

RELATED TO YOUR “WHIPPED HUSBAND BLOG”

Dude, how whipped are u?

Oooookay… 

This got me thinking. 

Based on my life and marriage, the definition of whipped must be: 

Whipped, noun
1. A man who is invested in a happy, healthy marriage with a woman he loves.
2. Engaging in a relationship of mutual give and take, where each person is more interested in the good of their mate, that their own happiness, thereby ensuring the latter.
3. Lucky bastard.

Antonyms: Bitter, miserable, alone, divorced, pre-divorced, unable to get divorced, settling for a long, unfulfilling life of unhappiness.  (Also see: selfish, stupid, clueless, narcissistic, leg-in-bear-trap.) 

As I told the writer above:  

“Whipped husband”…hmmmm…well, based on the rewards I get for keeping my wife happy, I guess I remain “whipped.”

Who else out there is “whipped?”

 -Perry

10 Tips for Husbands

 Okay,

Now before anyone dogs me…my wife did NOT put me up to posting this!  As I was in the bathroom this morning, thinking deep thoughts, this blog post just came to mind. 

Basically, here’s what happened: the toilet paper roll was empty, and as I started to do what I always do in this situation (grab a new roll and then leave it on the edge of the sink) I thought to myself,  ”Self, how hard is it, really, to replace a toilet paper roll?” 

Vic HATES it when I don’t do this, and I have, on more than one occasion, been pelted with an empty roll when it’s discovered. So, I replaced it and tossed the empty tube in the trash.  (Yah, me!) 

This led me to think, “What other really simple tasks could I get up off my lazy arse and just DO, that would make my wife happy?” Now, this is not a train of thought I board as often as I should, as it frequently leads to direct contact with the dishwasher, when I could be on the couch watching Friends re-runs. 

Still, the train was out of control, and here’s what I came up with.  Please add your own suggestions below.  (Note to Dinana: Just know, in advance, that your comments will likely be deleted!  LOL) 

Replace empty toilet paper rolls and dispose of properly (see above.)

Pick up my dirty socks. They’re right there at my feet, and the hamper is like a foot away, c’mon!

Rearrange the couch cushions when I get up.  10 seconds, max.

Remember to brush my teeth and gargle before I come to bed.  The dog has been known to get up and leave the room.

Empty my bathroom trashcan.  Okay, this one involves several steps and almost didn’t make the list.

Put books, videos, and DVD’s back on the shelf when I’m done with them.  Again, just one at a time, takes a couple of seconds.

Put my dishes in the dishwasher instead of piling in the sink.  I hate the dishwasher; this one almost got nixed as well.

Take my empty Starbucks cups out of the car when I exit. (Really, I’m sad, please pray for my wife…)

Hang up my coat when I take it off. Seriously, I have piling issues.

 Hang the towel (or toss it in the hamper) when done showering.  See #9.

Okay, that’s about all I’m willing to admit to at this point.  I’m going to print this list and tape it to my bathroom mirror. 

Though, that’s also where I taped my new diet/exercise schedule…so there you go… Guys, what do you have to add?  

-Perk PS – If I don’t get some decent responses by tomorrow, I’m sending this link to your wives!  

If I go down, I’m taking everybody with me! 

Coffee Peeves

Ahh…coffee.

If I’m going to be an addict, by golly let my jones be something that’s cheap, legal, and easy to get!

And where do we go for coffee?  Where else, but the corner Starbucks (one opening soon in your basement!)  What could be less complicated…less whineable, then a hot cup of coffee in the morning?

Venti house bold, three packets of Splenda and a splash of half & half, mmmm….

However, if coffee is more than the monkey on your back, if it’s the money in your wallet (say, for example you’re Starbucks Chairman Howard Schultz,) there are apparently larger issues surrounding the bean. Howie apparently drafted a memo titled “the commoditization of the Starbucks experience” to Starbucks employees at large, bringing up a number of hot topics, including the level of music, the dissipating aroma of fresh ground coffee, and the dreaded invasion of the breakfast sandwich.

Matthew Creamer (which, you gotta admit is a screamingly ironic name) over at Advertising Age asks if “Starbucks Smells the Death of Its Brand Experience?”

Doc Searls also has some great comments in “The sole of Starbucks.”

Here are my thoughts:

As a daily coffee buyer, I used to visit one of the local Starbucks exclusively.

However, the loud music and sensory overload got to be too much.  I wanted to sit down and enjoy my coffee…maybe read the paper (okay, the funnies…) and take a few minutes to wake up.  Trying to do that at Starbucks these days is like trying to nap in a mosh-pit.

Look…lot’s of places make good coffee. If I’m in a hurry, I can go to Dutch Bros get a great coffee and never have to leave my car. 

If I want to relax, there are several quiet coffee shops with comfortable couches and wifi right in my neighborhood.  What is Starbucks hook now?

Now, my biggest (and unrelated to the articles above) pet peeve is the “geyser lid” that Starbucks uses.  I’m by no means a fashionista, but I still don’t like showing up at work with latte dripping off my elbow and coffee stains on my favorite Star Trek T-shirt*

C’mon guys, go get a cup of coffee at Dutch Brothers (or, god forbid, 7-11) and take a look at the splash-proof lids that come with their cups (there’s a pic on the DB link above.)

This isn’t rocket science!

Enough ranting. Now I’m gonna just sit back, sip my espresso, and realize what a great life I have when something as completely unimportant as a coffee shop can be my pet peeve.  

-Perk 

Ps – The “Star Trek T-shirt” comment was a joke, Victoria made me get rid of all those before we got married.

Pps- If you want to read something REALLY funny (and not Starbucks related) check out Dave Barry’s article, “Decaf Poopacino.”  -P

The Future of Higher Education

I overhead an interesting conversation in the hallway yesterday…

Two men were talking about their ages (looked to be mid-fifties) and one commented, sarcastically, to the other that “You know us old guys are out of the loop with computers and stuff, and besides that, we’re slow!”

Now, I don’t know about the slow comment (my father-in-law is in his seventies, and would whup my rear in a one-on-one game) but the first part of his comment got me thinking. Both of these guys graduated college around the time I was born. Given the speed with which business concepts are changing, how could someone who was trained that long ago, hope to keep up?

Now, before you start screaming at me, I know one of these guys, and he is WAY smarter than I am (and makes a lot more money, I’m sure). I’m sure some of his frustration comes from the fact that he works very hard at keeping abreast of new concepts, and maybe the color of his hair is the only thing effecting other people perceptions of his abilities.

Then I thought, “Wait a minute, before I become a complete ageist, I need to remember that the “kids” I see graduating right now probably place me firmly into the “old coot” category as well. I mean when I was 18, people who were 38 were OLD!

When I was in school, we we’re just hearing about this thing called the internet, there was no iPod, no DVD’s, and blogs? Forget it! Top that with the fact that the education I was receiving was based on the decades old education of my instructors and, well… I’m already a dinosaur!

Then I read in this morning’s Oregonian (front page) that “97% of the class of 2005 are satisfied with their skills, jobs and pay…” Well, bully for them! What about the class of ‘86…or, for that matter ‘96? (mine)

I mean we’re talking about people who thought ASTEROIDS was pretty cool!

What am I going to do? Go back to school? Yeah, with a full-time job, wife and family, personal commitments outside work? Maybe if I learn to give up sleep…

And even if I did, it seems like companies are much more interested in what certifications I hold, that what my degree is in. (Theatre and English Lit, btw. Don’t even bother putting THAT on a resume!)

So, between spending years and years learning what will probably become outdated technology or practices within months of graduation, and the fact that you have to win the freaking lottery to afford a four-year degree -

(According to USA Today, for the academic year 2006-07, the average cost of tuition, room and board at a public university was $12,796; for a private school, the total averaged $30,367.) 

- AND put your life and career on hold for those four years (or more), and NOT even getting me started on trying to pay off school loans…

I have to ask…

Is the basis of our educational system flawed? Especially those that focus on careers in technology industries? If not flawed, at least in need of a major overhaul?

What if we spent a shorter amount of time in “classic educational institutions” and then had an ongoing educational system (web based?) that would could focus more tightly on the ever-changing information that really effects what we do?

Regarding the “Future of Education,” eLearning pro Ashwin Ramasamy, says the following:

“Ivy league universities will no longer have an academic head quarters. They will have a string of physical and virtual campuses integrated by charter, yet liberal on pedagogical approach.” 

What do you think of this: Rapid increase in new technologies  =  

1. A need for ongoing, targeted education.

2. Less dependency on educators whose principle knowledgebase is decades old. (Again, not saying educators don’t keep abreast of current technologies, but the time requirements involved are problematic  with a full-time teaching position, and family responsibilities.) 

The rising costs, and diminishing ROI of a 4 year degree require:  

3. Shorter “educational internship” (leading back to #1)

4. Increased on-going web-based education.

5. Focus on more influential certifications, as opposed to traditional degrees?

Will our kids (or grandkids) even “go away” to college? And, more importantly, if they don’t…how are we ever going to get them out of the house?

What do you think?

Later,

-Perk