The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane

When it's my moment in the sun, I won't forget that I am blessed, but every hero walks alone, thinking of more things to confess

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Location: Owensboro, Kentucky, United States


Saturday, March 12, 2005

Saturday the 12th, 32nd day of Lent

I worked all day today. The worst and most fun part of my day was tonight. I worked at the mall and was the Easter Bunny. The suit was hot and the big rabbit head was even hotter. The sweat was just dripping in my eyes and there wasn't anything I could do about it. It got pretty boring too after a while. A few people would come up and sit on my lap for pictures. But mostly I just waved to people. Most of them smiled back at me. After a while it became a game to me. I would try to see who I could get to wave to me. I would wave at every good looking woman that was talking on a phone. I would wave to all the guys that were mean and tough. But the one's I enjoyed waving to the most were the little old ladies. It made me feel good to think that as we age we lose our innocence, but maybe we gain it back a little bit in our later years. Maybe the magic we lost when we were trying to be cool or grown-up comes back.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Friday the 11th, 31st day of Lent

Today nothing went right. I know a few weeks ago I wrote about having a problem and beating it. Well, today I was faced with a bunch of problems that I couldn't beat. I came back to the office this afternoon know that I had been beat. And the worst part was that there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to like it and lump it. Things were out of my control. Nothing I could do.And I hate that feeling.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Thursday the 10th, 30th day of Lent

I picked up some lunch today and actually ordered a Dr. Pepper before I knew what was going on. I stopped the lady and asked for a water instead. I have been wondering if after lent I am going to start drinking them again. But with that line of thinking, after lent do I not want to be humbled. Maybe I can totally give up DP's and ego. I don't know. I think I am going to try and keep it up as long as possible.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Wednesday the 9th, 29th day of Lent

I had the day of today which was really nice. I walked around the old Dickson St. Used Bookstore while waiting for a lunchtime meeting. I was searching through some books and found a book called The Annals and Scandals of Henderson Co. Now Henderson County is where all my family grew up and live to this day. In fact, I was actually born in Henderson. I looked through the book and was floored by all the photos of the past. There were all these places that I knew from my past. There was a picture of Harold Kruger's store. The photo was take in 76 and it is the same cluttered store that I remember going to as a child. I could almost smell the smoke from the old wood burning stove. I can see the deli refrigerator humming and keeping the bologna cold. I can see the cat litter next to the cleaning products next to the bread next to the candy.

I looked through this book researching the history of the town my mother's kin is from. The language was so different. Evidently there was a train wreck in the early 1900's. It killed two train workers and two tramps. I can honestly say that I have never heard someone use the word tramp in the old timey way. There was even a really early picture of the train sunken halfway down in the river.

I observed something else while looking through this book. I come from a unique place. It's probably not unique in the sense that it is the only place in the world that has an old general store or train wrecks. But it is wholly unique to me. It is a time gone by. I realize that I grew up during the last parts of the good ole days, and I can appreciate it without longing to be back in those days.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Tuesday the 8th, 28th day of Lent

I recently watched I Heart Huckabees. It was a funny premise, a man trying to find out what a coincidence really means. He keeps on bumping into this tall African around his town. I have been running into the same person myself. It is a woman who works out everynight at about the same time as I do. We always seem to be using the same elliptical machines that are right next to each other. We never even say anything to each other. I just smile and she smiles. There are a lot of other people that seem to frequent the same health club at the same time, but not every night like this. Maybe I should hire an existential detective. Maybe everything is related, maybe nothing is related. I don't know if mamma or Lt. Dan were right about destiny.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Monday the 7th, 27th day of Lent

There is a guy that I went to high school with that is in the pen. Which isn't to unusual. There are probably a lot of people that have former classmates in the pen. I am sure that if I show up to my 10 years class reunion this summer that I will find out about more people that are presently incarcerated.

But Ike was always a different sort of guy. I didn't know Ike well. But he was a friend of my best friend, so to me that qualifies him as a friend. I always liked Ike. I understood that he sometimes made poor decisions. We all make poor decisions, but Ike always seemed to make poor decisions that led him into the back of a squad car.

I usually got updates from my friend about Ike after high school. They were always updates that were not very good. Jail, on the run, etc.

So last night when I was talking with my father, he told me that Ike was having an art exhibition at the local college this weekend, I was intrigued. So I looked on the local newspaper's and found a nice article about the gallery show and about what's been happening with Ike (it seems he has two more years to serve).

I called my friend who was close to Ike and he said that it was really good. He ought to know since he is married to an artist and goes to gallery shows and what not. Well, I asked him if he had talked to Ike lately he said no. I told him that he ought to write him a letter. He said that he thought about going to visit him one time. He gave me all the reasons why he ought not contact him, the baggage and what not. But I told him that the main reason he ought to try and contact Ike is to encourage him and to be a friend. We both know that Ike was always a very talented person in high school. He was good at art and music and all the other things that people don't celebrate like they do a ball going into a hoop.

I hope my friend writes Ike a letter. I might too, though I feel a bit uncomfortable about it. As I said, I didn't know him that well.

But if I were to write him a letter, I would say this. For the past week I have been trying to find a movie, book, album, and anything to just floor me. I want to be inspired, I want to be moved. And when I looked at that painting on-line this morning. I was moved. I understood what that painting meant. I know the way that old man feels with his head down and an empty drink in his hand while the entire world seems to be celebrating and having fun. I was so moved that I called the college and left a message with a professor on how I might see more of his paintings, who knows, if the price were reasonable, I might even buy one.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Sunday the 6th, 26th day of Lent

It wasn't opening day today, but it felt like it to me. I went to my first baseball game of the year. Thought I had no really rooting interests in the game, I enjoyed it. I took a book, read a little bit between innings and during pitching changes. The game moved pretty slow and I relaxed. All the fans booed the umpire because of his judgment of balls and strikes. I just sat there silently eat an apple (which was the largest apple I had ever seen) for 2 innings. I never made a sound at the game besides the crunching of my apple and the occasional laugh while reading the book. The ping of the bat would awaken me just in time to look back at the field and try to find the ball rocketing towards an extended glove. There were people behind me talking and cussing and whining so much that I moved seats. I moved out of the sun, which had forced me to turn my hat around after only a few batters. I sat in the shade, right behind the backstop. When I finally got bored, I left.

Baseball is such a strange game. It is so complex that it becomes rather simple. It also can be so exciting one-second and then the next moment will be boring. It is a game of spurts, and a game I enjoy watching.