Grandpa's Solid Gold Hot Rod

Part 25 of 30 -- Guidance Counselor series

As my high school career was in its last few weeks, everything loosened up. Of course I was busy, with a big push to get papers and projects done and make sure I passed. They were strict on that point, leading to at least one all-nighter. I had to justify with documentary evidence in my Science paper that the earth not only has flat plains but mountains. But along with the fever pitch of all that, everything else loosened up. The guidance counselor, so often a burr under my saddle, even loosened up. Knowing his time with me had come and gone. He looked at things stoically, all things must pass. When I sat in his office, not going to wrestling, he still didn’t like it. But now it was nearly over so it wasn’t so bad.

For the students, the end of the school year is always a time to cut loose and even raise hell. And everyone expects it while not encouraging it. Take the guidance counselor. He was mum on it, but who knows what he did in the Korean War when it was time for him to come home! He might’ve stripped naked and run back and forth across the 38th parallel. I know that’s what I would’ve been doing if I were there, if I’d ever been drafted. Mooning the Communists, our enemy at the time, Kim Il Sung and the slave state in his thrall.

OK, loosening up. Behavior a little beyond the norm. Even veering off into the completely irresponsible and wacky. I was lucky to get away with it, but now I can crow it from the roofs What’s the big deal now that I was the one in Grandpa’s solid gold hot rod spinning brodies in the damned school parking lot? As long as I didn’t get caught, it’s my business and no one else’s. Even then, it’s not like anyone was really going to get hurt, as long as they stayed out of the way. Spinning in gravel's a magical experience. With the beauty of gravel being it’s very hard to trace the tracks to anyone in particular. And back then there were NO video cameras. If you could do it and get the hell out of sight, it was their best guess against your best denial. And I didn't know anything about it...

The guidance counselor might try to weasel information out of people about their pranks, but that late in the game his days were numbered. I got used to his disappointed glares but you still couldn't be too complacent. I believe he had some kind of arrangement with the administration to weasel information out of kids in exchange for rewards, maybe dates with the wrestling coach’s leftovers or rejects. But the key thing to handle that is simply to stay quiet, let several decades go by, then once they’re all good and dead, dead and gone, spill the beans, totally irrelevant today. Were the high school to come after me for old infractions, at this point I’d cuss them out and assume they couldn't legally rescind my diploma.

So I'm not too worried. This time life's on my side. The old foes are now a'molderin' in their graves, with bigger fish to fry.

The Great Waving Tour

Everyone knows my blog as a worldwide sensation. I have readers in literally every country on earth, and that even includes North Korea. Blog mules have been hand-copying posts and smuggling them in in packs of cigarettes; Northies are so eager to get this vital information they unroll the cig papers and throw away the tobacco.

You could say I've specialized in the world, which is not to say I've neglected my local presence entirely. Maybe a little. My next door neighbor knows me, and a few others. Meaning, obviously, I need to "take a sad song and make it better." So I had the idea of a waving tour. Drive around waving and let people know I'm here. And I'm thinking of them. And how friendly I am.

It went really great, too. Although, to be totally honest, I got some suspicious looks, and several wouldn't wave back. The very first one, I'm leaving a dead end neighborhood of nice houses and a lady comes out to do something in the front yard. She sees me, I lift my hand tentatively and wave, and she doesn't wave back. She probably thought I was bad news, probably reading the blog and thinking I've taken more of an interest in the Ukraine (which I have) than my own town. I'll do better, ma'am.

In fact, quite a few folks looked like they were harboring various resentments, also refusing to wave, even though I had my best face on, very friendly. It could've been I was hitting too many dead ends and cul-de-sacs. But my theory was the folks on the wide open avenues see so much traffic they're not looking for waving tours. But the others, they don't get much traffic.

But the same theory -- I know this from reading the paper -- is something criminals know. A lot of cul-de-sacs in town have in fact had something of a crime wave. Enough break-ins to go around, practically everyone's had one. So on the surface of it, it seems like they'd be glad to see a friendly guy driving through the neighborhood waving. If they knew anything. Try to put 2 and 2 together folks: the criminals are out in the afternoon, I've waving when it's morning.

It wasn't long till police cars were lingering in the area. Being a nice guy, and not thinking of my own safety, I even waved at the police. I say that, because, you know -- it's touchy -- the police lately haven't got the best reputation. You don't want to appear to be too chummy with them, because you don't want any of the animus to rub off. Some of the donut shops even have them using the drive-through only.

I came upon a couple schools and as luck would have it the kids were out for recess. This was around the noon hour. So I thought, you know, start 'em out young, realizing there's actual decent friendly people in the world. I waved at them like I would anyone, appreciating the look of joy on their faces. Although, disturbing at it sounds, many of them looked like they didn't want to wave back at a stranger. Me a stranger? I've lived in this town all my life!

A bunch of the kids looked like they were running back in the school to get their friends. That warmed my heart. But when they came out with the teachers I knew the real truth... Teachers need love, too, so I waved at them. They got their phones out and were calling, apparently their own friends. Except pretty soon the police were back in the area, patrolling. It made me wonder, maybe some of the crooks knew it was afternoon and so had returned.

I kept driving, looking for friendly folks, kids, nursing homes, and honking and waving in the hospital area, waving at terminal patients looking out for their final view of anything. It was a real blessing for one and all. Then toward the end I felt honored to have a police escort, directing me toward home, where I ended up.

It's great to get out and feel the love, and to know I'm a Very Important Person, someone the entire town can be proud of.

North Korea -- A Cool Place

I know I'm risking whatever security clearance I have, may have, or may not have, by writing this. But other considerations override my personal fate, the fact that I am of the opinion that North Korea is a cool place. I know, I know, it's not popular these days to stand up and be counted.

It all started -- I'm guessing here -- three or four years ago. A guy I met at the library was acting a little furtive with his reading material, like he didn't want me to see it. But I prodded and pried, and next thing, he was showing me some literature he had from the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, North Korea.

I looked at it with some suspicion, but he gave me the "shush" sign and assured me he possessed it legally, then he went on to tell me how cool it was. I thought, "Hmm," overcoming my inbred suspicions and turning the pages of the magazine, "This actually is kind of cool. I love the whole vibe." He smiled and nodded. After that, I guess you could say we became a club of two!

Now it's been, like I said, years, and we still have only that one magazine, dated 1975. I asked him if there's anything newer, and he said, No, that's what we've got so far. He thought back and said he'd gotten it fresh when he first shared it with me, that it'd just come in by ship and that that's all we needed for the time being. OK. And something about the printing presses needing parts from Cuba.

But the key thing is not its age, but the content, which we have to assume is still just as relevant today as it was in 1975. I've often heard that North Korea doesn't change that much, that they've been able to maintain a sort of constant stability, whereas we in the West have had tumultuous changes. What's better? The contentment of stability or the upheaval of change? I don't think I have to answer that...

This particular issue shows their great president, Kim Il Sung, traveling the world, as a goodwill ambassador for everyone. And meeting with various world leaders that I can only presume are still in power, heroes of the cause, Comrade Nicolae Ceausescu of Romania and President Josip Broz Tito of Yugoslavia. I seriously thought Tito was dead, or had joined the Jackson 5 or something; I honestly haven't kept track. But there he is, as of 1975, still very much alive!

But the article that really caught my attention is their call to Americans to defect, to "Join our unremitting struggle for the victory of the cause of people and democracy." That sounds cool! Really, why do we want to follow the lackeys over here who simply prattle out the things they want us to hear, all the while pulling the strings of repressive imperialism both at home and abroad? The key thing for my purposes is: The trip there is all expenses paid, and they have employment for you. The listings are mostly for field labor, but there's also a tractor factory looking for skilled workers.

I know I'm getting myself in deep here. But -- be bold! -- there's no turning back now. The magazine sketches out the steps: 1) Contact the State Department; 2) Go to the State Department; 3) Renounce Citizenship; 4) Complete Paperwork; 5) Enter Renunciation Room for Formal Swearing Out; 6) Go to North Korean Embassy for Hero's Welcome; 7) Live Happily Ever After in Great Struggle.

That is one cool photo I've got! Six motorcycles for every car.