The Ash Creek Papers

Zack and I had a chat around the water cooler the other day and he mentioned that the Winter Olympics were completely uninteresting save for hockey, speed skating and bobsled. I agreed in general with his assessment… except I enjoy women’s figure skating and I don’t care much for bobsled.

By the by, I hate men’s figure skating… or any sport, for that matter, where a man wears more face make-up than Hermann Goering.

Our conversation turned to what could be done to improve the Winter Olympics. Zack thought that Kodiak Bear Sledding would be a good event. Good idea. I countered that Bull Moose Riding would be fun to watch… particularly if the riders were shmeared with the scent of a female moose in estrus. Or maybe traditional field events could be adapted… like the Shot Put… only on skates.

Both of us felt that aside from hockey, true team sports were also lacking. Zack went to the chalk board and using a skating rink as a model sketched out the following event. Two competing teams (specific number of participants yet to be determined), each team member is given a shield and a fishing net… teams line up on opposite sides of the rink… then the entire ice surface is raised on hydraulic lifts, and then spun around to 25Gs, after five minutes the rink is lowered and 100 penguins of various sizes (and including Pro Bowl Linemen dressed in penguin costumes) are placed at center ice and the teams then compete to capture as many penguins as possible.

Zack pointed out that the players would have to show tremendous athletic skill to fight thru the dizziness, the disorientation and vomiting, to bag their quarry.

Uh, huh… I would watch that. Particularly if the players had to wear sandals and suits of chain mail.

I am also thinking that perhaps we can “tweak” existing events and really upgrade the quality of the Olympics. Take the Biathlon, for example. This is an event that combines two very distinct skills: cross country skiing and shooting a rifle.

Competitors have to traverse a trail on skis with a rifle slung over their shoulder… and periodically they draw to a stop, unsling their rifles and attempt to hit targets down range. In my opinion… this event almost makes it.

But why not replace dumb targets with live game. Maybe bull moose… or better yet, the competitors first would have to be shmeared with the scent of female moose in estrus. Now wouldn’t that be exciting?

Even better… turn this into a true team event… and let the competitors hunt each other. Just think of some of the natural rivalries! Just like the Yankees against the Red Sox! But it would be the Koreans against the Japanese, or the Finns against the Russians! Or even better, this is perfect: the Russians against the Germans! They hate each other! Oh, this is even better! The Germans against the French! Or wait, we could take on the French, those pompous ingrates! No! No! We’ll take on the Cubans! How great is this? They might not have a cross country ski team… who cares? We can put them out there with snow shoes and cigars! And when we beat the shit out of them we can keep the cigars and then hold their National Baseball Team hostage!

Or there can be advanced competition… like the “Super ‘G'”… not only country against country; but also against Bull Moose!

Now this is what the Olympics are all about! And no saccharine TV coverage from NBC! The event will be covered live by CNN (even if it’s 3:00AM!).

You know what? The Winter Olympics are looking better and better! Let the Games begin!

I had to stop into a CVS Pharmacy on my way to the gym this morning. I could have chosen one in either Derby, near my Nest, or one in Norwalk near my gym. Quite convenient. Both are open 24 hours a day. That’s important for me. You see, I keep strange hours.

It is rare for me to get home before 10:30 on any night, either in Derby or Woodbury. And I am at the gym as close to 5:00 in the morning as I can get.

My purchases today were quite mundane: shampoo, deodorant and Stars and Stripes flavoured water (with just a bit of sparkle). Of course, if I had wanted to, I could have purchased Valentine cards, candy, food in abundant variety, electronic stuff (not fancy), snow shovels (had it been summer: everything for beach & patio), DVDs, CDs, magazines… I could have dropped off film for development. And… oh yes, actually had a prescription filled. Surprised? Well, after all, it is a drug store.

Fine.

At the gym I put in 3 miles on the tread mill. Nothing fancy. Cut a sweat and warmed up for my 6:00AM yoga class. This was to be my second session.

I had been grousing to a couple of my gym-mates about the increasing loss of flexibility (I grouse about other things; but that need not be described here). Two “brothers-in-sweat”, one younger, one older, both endorsed yoga and its rigorous stretching as something that would help me. And classes are offered at our gym on a pro bono basis.

I checked it out. I loved it.

So here I sit for the second time. On my unfurled floor mat. Sitar music in the background (which I find as soothing as listening to LL Cool J), I am in a position that is somewhere between somewhat and completely uncomfortable. Eyes closed. Our instructor, who truly has a soothing “WQXR” voice, reminds us about breathing, maintaining posture… finding our inner core beginning with our spine as a source for relaxing… “relax fully and seek our place.”

I don’t know about this “inner core” stuff. I am thinking that this is merely meant as a diversion to keep simple folk, like me, from recognizing how uncomfortable they are. Sorry. This “inner core” malarkey is too esoteric for me.

Still, the idea of “our place” is not without merit…

So when I am in the “ultimate land crab” position, also called a pose (something that I will hold for three minutes)… my mind takes a “stroll” to Beck’s Drug Store in New Haven.

Don’t look for it today. It exists no more.

But when I was a kid, it graced the corner of Edgewood and Central, four blocks from our home on Alston. It was an easy walk, even for a little kid… cross McKinley, Alden, Marvel and then Central.

Beck’s was a small place. Even to a little kid like me. The floor was made of tiny hexagonal white tiles. There was a counter with a soda fountain & maybe a half dozen stools. There was also a counter where you picked up prescriptions. And on the wall behind that counter were shelves filled with a small collection of pint and fifth sized bottles of hootch… although at that age, brand identity was not important to me, I can imagine that Dewars, Canadian Club and Beefeaters were represented.

I don’t recall there being anything in the open floor space… no kiosks with greeting cards, or displays with hair spray. I think it was just a place to stand and wait for a stool (although I can’t remember ever having to wait for a stool)… or for your turn to pick up your prescription, or perhaps a fifth of rye.

The presence of spirits for sale in a drug store was a residue of Prohibition. The Volstead Act (our 18th Amendment) which became the Law of The Land on January 29, 1920 prohibited the “manufacture, sale or transportation of intoxicating liquors… for beverage purposes.”

There was, however, no prohibition of alcohol for “medicinal” purposes. No surprise that the period between 1920 and 1933 saw a dramatic rise in sympathetic physicians who would prescribe a “wee dram of the devil that bit ya”.

Well here it is, the 50s and a small neighborhood drug store still dispensed alcohol; but no longer with the need of an Rx.

The presence of a soda fountain, on the other hand, had its origin to the previous century when soda water was considered a healthy tonic. And eventually ice cream became layered in.

Of this I can assure you… when Ian Gordon and I walked into Beck’s, demon rum was not on our minds, a tasty ice cream soda was.

“Can I have a rootbeer float, please?”

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You know, you can get a lot at a CVS today; but you can’t get a rootbeer float.

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Hey… are three minutes up yet?