Buckets & Brooklyn

I do not have and never have had a bucket list. It is okay if you do, and maybe someday I will have one, but I do not have one now. I feel as though I have filled (or emptied?) my bucket pretty well to date, and for the most part my bucket view of life is half full--I want lots and do lots.

Like this past weekend for example, I went to New York City. I have a cousin there, Kelli, so that's one of the big reasons I went. Another was to escape. Another was for adventure. I've only been there once, about a year ago, so this was trip two.

So let me tell you all the things I put in (or took out?) of my bucket. The day I got there, Thursday, cousin Kelli was working. Since I got to LaGuardia at noon, I had lots of time to kill before the work day was over. So there is bucket item number one: LaGuardia. As a kid, I'd lay in bed--tucked in--with my little transistor under my pillow, listening to Cardinals baseball--Jack Buck and Mike Shannon--and of course some of those contests were versus the Mets, at Shea Stadium. So what happens when you listen to a Mets game on the radio from Shea (and now Citi Field)? You hear planes from LaGuardia, which are sometimes loud enough to cause the announcers to stop talking. So in my child mind's bucket was, oh, how neato it would be to go to LaGuardia in New York City! Check.

So I got in a cab, said "Midtown, 59 W 44th". Cabbie took me there, and I hung out in Midtown, mostly Bryant Park with a million other people, all afternoon like a big boy--like I owned the place. Bucket item "Rule Manhattan": Check.

That night, I went to a Yankees game with Kelli and her friend Anna. Bucket item "Catch a Yankees game at Yankees Stadium": Check. Now, a caveat to this is that it was, of course, the new Yankees Stadium. I had hoped to check out both Shea and the old Yankee Stadium in their last year, but that was when I had an aging doggie--maybe you heard about that--so I let it slide. And let's back up. Even a bigger deal was me setting foot in the Bronx. That was a BIG deal, the bucket item of all bucket items. You see, starting when I was a younger-than-ten-years-old child, I've always wanted to live in the Bronx--specifically, South Bronx, which of course is where Yankee Stadium sits. Why did Chad want to live in South Bronx? I don't know, though I've been trying to trace it back in my mind. Maybe it has to do with the Yankees, maybe not. Anyway, "Go to the Bronx" bucket item: Check.

Friday we drank beer at McSorley's then ate arepas at a restaurant the size of my bathroom with Kelli, friends Sara and Pedro, and new friends Dana and Brian--and another dude was with us at McSorley's, but he split early 'cause he had a couple of ladies waiting for him somewhere. Anyway, I can't say either McSorley's or arepas was ever on a mental bucket list, but done and done. Good times.

Saturday was a biggie. I spent the afternoon in Jersey City, primarily to watch Kelli and Anna play a flag football game. What was bucket list worthy, though--in addition to simply being in Jersey City--was that we drove by St. Anthony's High School. Now, I've known of St. Anthony's since about when USA Today began publication and soon after included high school basketball rankings in its sports page. Dematha, Christ the King in Flushing, and St. Anthony's, to name a few, always appeared at the top of the rankings, year after year. Bob Hurley Sr. was and is St. Anthony's coach, his son Bobby's college career at Duke basically coincided with my college years at Kansas . . . the Hurleys and I are almost family. Ha. So anyway, I made a point to "Drive by St. Anthony's" . . . check that bucket list mofo off, yep. Interestingly, to me, was there were some locals hanging out next to me at the football game, which was at a school. A 30ish woman was in the group, a TRUE Jersey girl, and she looked like a Hurley. And she had a Duke sweatshirt on as well as a Duke t-shirt. I said nothing, though, 'cause I know better than to mess with a Jersey girl.

So Saturday night we went to Brooklyn to further hang with friends Sara and Pedro, and Brian and Dana came too, and to get to Brooklyn, Kelli and I drove around Queens a bit--maybe on purpose, maybe not. I saw Queens Boulevard, Entourage fans. Really, though, what Queens means to me is All in the Family, and what Brooklyn means to me is Welcome Back Kotter ("Welcome to Brooklyn, 4th Largest City in America"). What Chicago means to me is Good Times, but that's neither here nor there. While visiting NYC, I spent my nights in Carlstadt, New Jersey, home of the finest everything bagel in America. Of course, each time we rolled into Jersey the theme to The Sopranos spun in my head. To get back to my modern day Brooklyn experience, we spent some time in a crafty hipster beer joint. Yep, good times. Some say I should move to Brooklyn.

And Sunday we had brunch in a very pink and delicious spot in Manhattan, where I guess the theme from Taxi should run through my head, but it doesn't. Then back through Queens to LaGuardia, and this interesting article awaited me in Minneapolis. Fun fact about my trip home: From the time I got in Sara's car in Midtown Manhattan to the time I walked into my home in St. Paul, five hours flat. Amazing.

One last fun fact about my trip: Kelli and (especially) I killed hours of R&R time watching Modern Family. Oh how times have changed. For one, TV theme songs are much shorter, plus I bet you didn't know that modern steps serve as awesome shoe horns, eh?

So now, what's my newest addition to my nonexistent bucket list? To find me a true Jersey girl. Yep. "O baby you . . . you got what I need. . . .

Gotta go.

Back to Bernie

 
I still dream about my favorite girl often. They're good dreams, us enjoying each others company. One of our favorite things to do was just relax in the yard, both of us comforted and intrigued by the other's presence. Bernie was co-dependent yet independent, meaning she wanted me around as much as possible but generally preferred to do her own thing when I was around. So we'd hang out in the yard, as I am now, me reading or typing, her watching doggie television through the fence.

I live on a dog freeway, a corner lot that during the nicer months features a near-endless stream of doggies and their people enjoying the relatively balmy air. Nowadays I put out a bowl of water for all the dogs who come by, so they can get a refresher while out for their evening gallop. Everyone thanks me for the water, dogs and their moms and dads alike, but it is really a trick to get people to bring their pooches down my block so I can see them, pet them, and talk to them. It's my way of having a dog without having a dog.

I met a really, really cute puppy today--some sort of Akita, about eight weeks old, and just a little playful ball of fur. The pup has a unique name, I can't remember it, because my memory sucks. Anyway though, little pup and I frolicked for a few minutes. She lives a few houses down, so hopefully the pup and I can get some good hang time in.

I have a pet rabbit--not really a pet, but a wild rabbit who comes back year after year and essentially lives in my backyard. I didn't have any pet rabbits when Bernie was here. Have you ever seen a rabbit sprawled like a dog sleeping? It's quite hilarious. I think the rabbit knows there is a fence here. He or she also lets me walk right past her, just two or three feet away. That's how bunny rabbit and I roll. Right now he or she has a friend over, which is the case starting at dusk every night. I don't ask them what they do when I turn out the lights. That's their business.

Time for me to turn out the lights.