Monday, December 14, 2009

Current Literature Review

"If I'm going to do this, I better do it right."

I woke up extra early on March 30th, 1982. I left my jeans on my chair and slip into a pair of dress slacks and pick out a nice sweater. The t-shirt and laid-back attitude are staying home today.

I polish off a bowl of Wheaties and page through an issue of Forbes magazine. We have Current Literature Review (CLR) this week. In Larson's class each of us have to perform a review of some article that we found interesting. Public speaking isn't my thing- I would rather hide in the back of the class with Dan and Dean. Even better, skip class and sleep in. But my friend Jerry has given me some advice and it sounded reasonable. This would be a perfect opportunity to try it out.

I have found an article: something short with a few salient bullet points. I read it a couple times and highlight each point so I can find them quickly if I need to. It sounds counter-productive but Jerry says, "Don't write anything down. Don't even make notes, they will only get in the way."

It is a brisk but sunny morning as I scrap the ice off the windshield. My 1976 Monte Carlo starts right up. I let her unwind as I cross the river into Moorhead. The parking lot at Moorhead State University (MSU) is sparse before my 8:00 AM class. I'm early. The classroom is an interior room with no windows. No distractions as I read through the article again. My fellow students wander in. Dan comes in first, Dean much later. Dan notices I'm reading. He doesn't say anything. He knows it's CLR this week and there is a 1-in-30 chance of getting chosen first and 1-in-5 of getting picked today. That's why we're hiding in the back.

Larson bustles into the room, sets her purse on the front desk. She announces updates on the class schedule, but the CLR is still on.

"We're doing Current Literature Reviews this week, so lets get started. Anyone want to go first?" She asks.

This is the moment of truth. I really don't want to go through with this but, "Once you go first, you're done for the week." I kept repeating this mantra to myself. My hand slowly inches into the air. Dan and Dean look over with horror- as if I'm volunteering to get shot.

"Excellent! Mr. Maas you're first."

I walk to the front of the class. I open the Forbes magazine and place it on the podium. I give Larson a nervous smile. I looked at my fellow students, no reason to be nervous. Thanks to me they all feel like they've dodged a bullet.

The article itself is unimportant. I reviewed the bullet points and discussed the relevant aspects as it related to the class. I narrowed my focus into a simple one-on-one conversation with Larson. I occasionally glanced at the other students. Half were politely watching; the other half could have been asleep.

I received few questions from the students and a couple from Larson. The questions were not difficult and soon my ordeal was over.

"Thank you Mr. Maas for interesting discussion." She dismissed me with a smile.

It went well, and I gained all the advantages of going first. I also had Larson's 9:00 AM class. [One Larson class was bad but two in a row was exasperating.]

Between classes, Larson came up to me and complemented me on hitting all the elements she was looking for: dressing up, eye contact, and a mastery of the material.

Jerry was right, "give her what she asks for not what you think she wants."

As the weeks progressed I found it harder and harder to go first as more students realized there was a method to my madness. By the end of the quarter even Dan and Dean were highlighting magazines and trying to volunteer… from the back.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Douglas Guardian Dogs

"Will Vollmers ever shut up?"

It is almost 10:00 PM and this night class seems like it has been going on forever. I thought he was going to call it a night when he finished Chapter 4, but he decided to keep going. It wouldn't be so bad but I got plans, one of which is a prank that will live on for years. Vollmers finishes Chapter 5 in Logistics, and I bolt out of the classroom. I don't stop until I get to the library. I have some articles to research for Larsen's class tomorrow.

In the car I'm trying not to look crazy as I'm laughing while driving across town.

As a trusted employee of Environmental Control Inc. (ECI) I have a key to the building. Even though it isn't odd for anyone to be working late, no one works this late. ECI is a wholesale distributor of Heating, Ventilation, and Air Conditioners. On March 30th 1982, ECI's primary line was Carrier. But because of the credit crunch ECI didn't actually own their Carrier Inventory, it was sold on consignment through a field warehousing agreement with Douglas-Guardian Warehouse Corp. The terms of the contract called for the inventory to be segregated and secured. Only an authorized agent of Douglas-Guardian (DG) would have access to this inventory. My pal Vic Teigen was that agent. He had the key to the DG area in the warehouse; that area was protected by chicken wire.

Vic and I laughed about the security, inventing outlandish security scenarios, and planning security upgrades including patrol dogs.

I had a cheap GE micro cassette recorder for note taking. It featured a microphone jack and a remote jack. The remote jack would switch the recorder on and off.

I recorded the following message…

Hey, what are you doing!

This is a secure Douglas-Guardian Warehouse.

Leave this area at once, or I shall be forced to release the dogs.

(and with that I started barking like a we had half a dozen Dobermans.)

The key was in Victor's desk. I unlocked the DG gate and placed the recorder above. I tied a string from the gate to the remote plug on the recorder. Once the gate was opened the string would pull the remote plug from the recorder and it would start playing my message.

However there was a flaw in my plan. First thing in the morning, Victor normally unlocked but rarely opened the gate. I needed Victor to open the gate and not your boss. The solution was staring me in the face. I set a drain pan kit on the floor. Victor would see the kit lying on the floor and assume it fell off the stack. He would open the gate, return the kit to its proper place, and trigger my prank.

When I arrived the following day, Victor, Brian and the entire ECI crew were still talking about the Douglas Guardian Dogs and the surprise message that befell Victor that morning. It's a prank Victor talks about to this day.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Halloween 1968

I was running to the next house, trying to keep up with my friend Blaine Houston. The pillow case was mostly empty, except for a few pieces of candy jumping with each step. I quickly caught up before he rang the bell. My father, and Blaine's father, George, were walking down the sidewalk as we cut across the yards in our neighborhood. Mrs. Bye smiled as she dropped some Sweetarts into my pillow. I thanked her quickly as Blaine was halfway to the next house. Blaine was almost seven years old but big for his age. He was fast but my 16 month head start meant that I could always catch him. The same couldn't be said for George and dad. They were were yelling for me to slow down, but I couldn't let Blaine beat me.

Most of the houselights were on. This was a friendly neighborhood, but it was also a cheap neighborhood and the candy wasn't very good. I asked Blaine if he had a bunch of candy corn. I don't know why I asked, he was hitting the same doors. Maybe I thought his costume was generating candy bars, rather than penny candy and bubble gum.

As we rounded the last corner of our block, George announce, "Trick or Treat is over when we get back to our house." Blaine looked horrified. I wasn't happy either, I turned to dad and asked, "You can take around the next block can't you?"
"No, I'm afraid this will have to be it."
I tried to complain but it was no use. Dad wasn't listening and walked into the house. I continued on to Blaine's house. Blaine wasn't about to stand up to George. George was a fun loving guy but didn't brook any sass from his son and would follow through with any implied threat.

I whispered to Blaine, "This isn't fair. It is barely dark, and all I got is some crappy penny candy and an apple. I'm going to go out again."
Blaine whispered back, "How? Your dad isn't going to take you."
"I'm going to sneak out of my room."
"How are you going to do that?"
"I will pretend to go to bed, then take off the window screen and climb out."
"I wish I could go."
"Just do the same."
"Are you sure we won't get caught."
"Sure. When was the last time they checked to see if you were asleep. My parents never look."
"You're right but I don't know."
"I'll tell you what. I'll be outside your window in half an hour and we'll go together. We'll run up and down a couple more blocks until we get some decent candy and then climb back in the window. They will be none the wiser."

Blaine didn't say anything but after his mother dropped a mini Sugar Daddy in my pillow case, he said, "mom, I'm tired. I think I'm going to go to bed early."
She said, "Are you sure, honey?"
"I'm not surprised he's worn out, after all that running around," answered George.

When I got home I told mom I was going to read for a little while and then go to bed. It took me half an hour to get the screen off the window, because each movement caused it to start screeching horribly. I timed my movements with the doorbell. Every 'Trick or Treat' made me want to get out even quicker. I trimmed down my costume so I could run faster and carry more candy. I had visions of returning with a pillow case full of candy bars.

At Blaine's house his window was sliding back. I slid behind the bushes beside his window. First one leg and then then other slid over the ledge. Blaine dropped to the dirt. I grabbed him, and hissed, "What are you doing out of your room, Blaine!" In my best George Houston voice. Blaine started to scream. I put a hand over his mouth and tackled him. "It's me. I was just joking. Be quiet or we'll be in trouble.

We crossed the street and quickly ran from house to house and around the block. One block down. On to the next block. Two blocks down and we still didn't seem to have much candy. It takes a lot of penny candy, from a lot of houses to make even a small dent in a pillow case. We were running as fast as we could, and didn't appreciate the time it took some households to answer the door and deliver up the candy. This was made even worse by those old people who wanted to talk about our costumes and then handed out more candy corn.

We worked back towards our home block. We hit four houses in a row with diligent owners featuring real chocolate candy bars. We were excited when we rang the fifth bell. There was no answer, but the light was on. I rang it again. No answer. I wanted to head to the next house, "This is taking too long. Lets go!"
"No. We have to go for five bars in a row. I'm ringing the bell again." said Blaine.

Finally the door open and this guy sticks his head out. "Why are you kids ringing my door bell? I'm trying to watch the game."
Blaine and I yell, "Trick or Treat."
"I don't have anything for you so get lost."
"We're not leaving until you give us something," Blaine demanded.
I was thinking it was a waste of time arguing with the guy, but then he said, "Yeah, I got something for you boys, step inside."

No sooner did we step inside, than the old guy locked the door and picked up a big yard stick. I looked at Blaine, and he at I.
"I told you boys to leave me alone. Maybe a beating will teach you some manners."

He started swinging the stick in Blaine's direction. Blaine took off but didn't get past the coffee table. He tripped and knocked the guy's beer onto the carpet. The guy grabbed Blaine's ankle and was about to lay in when I yelled, "Leave my friend alone you big gorilla."

The big gorilla let go of Blaine's leg and came after me. I turned for the door but couldn't get the lock figured out. Blaine took off on a tear for the back door. This distracted the gorilla with the yardstick. He turned back toward Blaine. I made a couple steps toward my friend but then thought better of it. I got the door unlocked. I opened the door to escape when I saw the most frightening sight…

It was Ray and George standing on the front steps about to push the door bell. I yelled something about beating Blaine with a yardstick. George stepped in, took a couple long steps into the kitchen, grabbed the raised yardstick, spun the guy around by the shoulder and dropped him with one fast punch to the face.

Blaine yelled, "Dad you have come to save me!"
"You're not out of trouble yet. I told you Halloween was over and you snuck out of the house. Good thing Ray saw you and Craig headed down the street."
"We're sorry. We won't do it again."
"I know you won't do it again, after I give this yardstick a workout on your rear end." George brought the stick down hard into his open palm. I knew I would be next, so while the attention was on Blaine, I made a break for the door. Dad made a lunge for me but I jagged out of his grip and headed out the door. This took the attention off of Blaine, who made a quick break for the back door. I was racing home and noticed Blaine was behind me when I crossed the street. Blaine was crying and demanding that I save him. "Dad is going to kill me."
"Calm down. Let me think of something."
"You better hurry up because I can see them coming down the sidewalk and he still has the yardstick in his hand! Maybe if we climb back in our rooms and pretend we were never gone they might think it was all a big mistake." I shook my head and Blaine my plan.

We started running. I gave Blaine a boost through the window and wished him luck.

I climbed through the window, stripped my costume off and stashed it and and candy under the bed. I closed the window and pulled the covers up tight.

It wasn't long before there was a roar at the front door. It sounded like Frankenstein, but he wasn't looking for candy, he was looking to tan my hide.

He was yelling even before he got to the bedroom door, "When I tell you, you're done, you're done! There is no going behind my back! And certainly no sneaking out in the middle of the night! I am going to spank you until you can't remember your own name!" And with that he pulled back the covers. I looked at him and he looked at me. Time seemed to stop as I warily eyed the yardstick in his hand. Suddenly a laugh broke from his mouth, "Craig what are you doing here and where is Blaine?"

"Mr. Houston, it was all my idea, I talked Blaine into going out for more Halloween candy. I'm ready to take Blaine's punishment. I was crying while I said this. About this time the phone rang. The timing was perfect.

My dad was on the phone having discovered Blain in my bed. George grabbed by arm and marched me outside. I was exchanged for Blaine.

George looked my dad in the eye, "What are we going to do with them?"
"Boys will be boys." dad replied. Nothing more was said.

Back home, Dad yelled at me, then my mom yelled at me and even my baby sister got in on the action.
"One more thing," dad added, "Where is your candy? It stays with me." I looked around and realized with a cold fear that it was gone.
"I accidently left it under Blaine's bed."

Blaine on the other hand had the presence of mind to bring his back with him.
"All the better. The candy is now his. You should know better than getting him into such serious trouble. Now go to sleep. I don't want to hear another peep out of you."

The next day Blaine told me George went easy on him. I told him I left my candy under his bed. "I'm suppose to give it to you."
"Don't be silly. It's yours. I should give you mine too after you got me out of trouble."
"Actually, I'm suppose to give it to you, for getting you into trouble in the first place."
"I'll tell you what. Leave it here and you can eat it whenever you come over to play."

For the next week, I invited Blaine over to my house to play. I had visions of George introducing my backside to that yardstick; so I wanted to keep my distance. One night I overheard dad and George in the living room. They were recounting our little Halloween story and laughing hysterically. I figured I was safe. It helped that Blaine made sure the yardstick disappeared.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Santa Claus vs. Count Dracula

Biff believed in Santa Claus. He was thirty-five years old and believed in Father Christmas. Biff realized his sister had lied to him about Santa Claus. Santa wasn't his father, but a real saint. A big fat bastard that drove around in a sleigh delivering presents to kids. Santa didn't deliver presents to all the boys and girls- that would be impossible. Just the parents who were too poor, stupid, or drunk to provide gifts in honor of Jesus' birth.
In on a secret?
Hell, the secret was there was no secret.
Biff was convinced that he was one step ahead of his sister on that one.

Once Biff rediscovered Santa Claus, vampires were not far off...
When the Christmas presents were opened, the wrapping paper was in the garbage, and the Christmas tree was on the boulevard, Biff saw vampires everywhere. Vampires swarmed into Toledo every New Years Day and stayed until Halloween, when the Santa chased them out. It was no use wearing garlic or waving a cross around. The citizens of Ohio had made their peace with the blood suckers but not with a smelly and slightly deranged Biff.
Biff was one step ahead of his sister on the issue of vampires, in that his sister didn't understand what the hell Biff was talking about. Biff put away his garlic and tucked his cross into his shirt.
As he explained to his sister, "I don't have to outrun the vampire, I just have to outrun you."
"Thanks a lot."
"Hey, I thought you didn't believe in vampires."
"I don't, but at least you could protect me in your delusions."

Buffy gave her brother the stink eye. Yes, 'Biff and Buffy' - their father had a warped sense of humor; one that was lost on his kids.

Months later, shortly after Labor Day, the father arrived in Toledo and called his children to visit. When they arrived Biff and Buffy were arguing. It was the same old argument about Santa Claus and vampires. The father stood quietly as his children argued back and forth.

Buffy turned to her father and said, "Tell Biff it was you all those years delivering his Christmas presents."
"Yes, it was me."
"See, I told you so," shouted the excited Buffy.
"This is what I came here to tell you. Buffy, Biff isn't 100% wrong to believe in Santa. You're both old enough to hear what I have to tell you. I am Santa Claus (of Ohio™)."
Both Biff and Buffy turned to look at their old man: fat, bearded, and jolly.

"Dad, you have always been weird but this takes the cake," Biff responded. His sister nodded her head in agreement. It was the first time this month she agreed with Biff.

"Whether you believe in Santa Claus or not, I am he. I've come early because I'm getting too old to be chasing vampires around Toledo."
"Don't tell me you think there are vampires in Toledo too!" shouted Buffy.
"Buffy my little pumpkin, vampires are real. A real pain in the ass. I have to chase them out of town every holiday season, but it is getting to be too much. Every year there are more and more vampires in town and I can't convince the powers that be to kick off the holiday season any earlier than November 1st."
"Dad, how long have you known about Toledo's vampire problem?" Biff asked.
"For as long as I have been Santa, and that has been a long time."
"What can we do about it?"
"Well, Biff I've studied the literature and have figured out if you kill the vampire who made you, you stop being a vampire. It turns out there is one vampire who made all the others."
"Who is that?" asked Buffy.
"I bet it is Count Dracula" said Biff.
"You are correct. I found out he is still in town. Dracula doesn't know I'm back in town. I have a plan but I need your help."
"You can count on me dad," announced Biff.
"What about you Buffy?"
"I think you're both crazy. Santa Claus? Vampires? Count Dracula! You should be committed."
"I need your help. If we are crazy no harm can come from it but if we're not you will have helped rid Toledo of vampires.
"What do you have in mind?"

At midnight Buffy was outside the Valentine Theatre in lovely downtown Toledo. She was approached by a tall man who was wearing a cape.
"Miss, my name is Count Dracula. Don't be afraid, I only want to drink your blood."
"Get lost creep."
With that the count attacked Buffy. In the scuffle Santa Claus snuck around the corner and grabbed the count.
"Dracula, I've got you now."
"Santa, at last we meet. Unhand me and I will let you go unharmed."
"Nothing doing Dracula. You tried to vampirize my daughter. I can't let this go unpunished."
"The second you release me I will attack you too. You are finished."
"No, you dirty vampire, it is you who are finished," announced Biff as he came around the corner with a stake and wooden mallet.

Dracula struggled but Santa held him tightly.
The stake broke through Dracula's chest and found his black heart. Another stroke and the stake had stilled the mighty vampire's heart. The heart turn to dust as did the rest of him, leaving only his clothes.

At that exact instant dozens of bats were surprised mid-flight.

"I think these clothes may fit me," pondered Biff.
"Wow, you guys weren't nuts after all." Buffy injected.
"Finally that problem is solved. I can go back to the North Pole (Nelsonville, OH 45764) and get some work done. You know for years I've had to subcontract with Toys R Us because I've been so busy chasing vampires. Now the elves and I can go back to carving wooden toys for all the girls and boys. I want to thank the two of you. I couldn't have done it without you."

With that, the story is over. Santa Claus (of Ohio™) returned to the North Pole. Buffy and Biff Claus went to Denny's (on Monroe Street) for an early breakfast.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Summers In Sydney

The morning comes quickly. Grandmother is in the store. I pull the covers away, my bare feet touch the rug. I fold the hide-a-bed away and carefully place the cushions back on the sofa. In the bathroom the window is open, the air is fresh from last nights rain and the birds sing. A daddy long legs is still in the bath tub. The kitchen tile is cool beneath my feet. I select the cereal du jour from the variety pack. At home there are no variety packs, but at Grandma's store the choice is always mine. Invariably that choice is the variety pack. As the week progresses the choices thin. There is something fascinating about cutting along dotted lines for a box which becomes it's own bowl. I think grandmother liked the idea of one less bowl to wash.

After dressing in shorts and shirt I wander into the store to say good morning to grandmother. I head out the door. The rain has left puddles in the potholes. The clouds are clearing and the sun begins shining, lighting my domain. I survey my summer kingdom.

Although I burned the garbage yesterday, it obviously must be burned again today. "Why there must be two tin cans and an empty spaghetti box in the garbage today. This will not do". Once grandmother hands me the symbolic box of farmers matches, I burn the garbage and the toy airplane I made from a peach crate yesterday. The passengers and crew scream as the plane goes around and around. The wing burns and burns, until it crashes into the flaming spaghetti box. Grandma takes a look at my handiwork to make sure I haven't set myself or the town of Sydney on fire.

I'm looking for another peach crate so I can replace the airplane which so recently met it's demise. Grandmother has this all figured out. She has a ready supply of crated fruit and large cardboard boxes for me... As soon as I unpack, price and stock them. Being too young to see through transparent child labor, I quickly comply. I'm so dumb, I'm actually having fun. I try to move the 50 pound bags of sugar and flour or the heavier boxes of nails and bolts. Grandma laughs at my futile efforts. She sends me out to grab some milk from the cooler/ freezer. The cooler is in a separate building to the west. I carefully block the door as I step inside. I'm not convinced I can get out once the big door closes and the steel lock latches. The salt licks in the entry way catch my eye. I give the white one a lick, it tastes like salt! By the end of my stay I've earned the new fishing rod leaning in the corner and grandma is baiting my hook, removing the Bull-heads from my line and cleaning my catch from the Buffalo Creek.

By mid-morning I had a number of large cardboard boxes taped together forming a submarine, rocket ship or race car depending on my mood. I'm not sure, I believe grandma was charging her customers admission to see the 'Wonderboy'. There was nothing I couldn't make with cardboard, tape, string, glue and magic markers. A supply of cardboard was no problem, I mined the east store room for cardboard.

Grandma introduced me to Dinty Moore at lunch, we begin a lifelong friendship. I drank Pepsi like water. Sydney water tasted like blood due to the high iron content. It looked a little like blood too. So, Grandma gave me free reign over the soda cooler. You combine this with the candy Grandma stocked and the Chocolate Fudgecicles in the ice cream cooler; I was in heaven. I had an AM transistor radio, Sammy Davis Jr. was singing "Candy Man": it was my theme song. No need for a golden ticket to the Willy Wonka Factory, I had Grandma's Sydney Store.

After lunch, I begin my afternoon expedition. I put some Jolly Rancher candy in my pocket and grab another Pepsi on the way out. I wade through the long grass to the shed by the train tracks. I peak inside. There's a grinding wheel. I try to get it running, it's rusted stiff. South on the Midland Railroad, on the look out for any train which might sneak up on me. My destination is the garbage dump, it's only half a mile. I found an old rusted baby buggy which I converted into a race car. I convinced my sister to drive. I was the engine. Boy, would she scream when I got it up to speed. She didn't crash that often.

Having explored my southern domain, I went north. Past the twin elevators, standing like guard towers. A mile and a quarter to the north, past the white owl perched on the telephone pole, is a trestle bridge over the Buffalo Creek. I drop rocks on the turtles down below. They dive for cover. On the way back the Owl is airborne, screeching above. I run for cover.

Two hundred yards southwest of Grandma's store the Buffalo Creek crosses once more. I take off my shoes and wade in. Under the shade of the bridge I skip stones off the still surface. Next year the bridge will be replaced by a culvert. It just isn't the same. Mom and dad had room for my bicycle when they brought me to Sydney this time. I pedaled up and down the gravel road: there isn't anything matching the interest of a garbage dump or a trestle bridge.

In late afternoon our only neighbor came riding up on a magnificent horse. I was playing by the garage finishing work on the baby buggy race car. They asked me if I wanted a ride. Who could resist playing cowboy on a real horse?! We galloped across the lawn past the tilting outhouse, past the garden, on to their house and back. "Yee hah". They had a German Shepherd mix named "Brandy". Brandy liked the attention Suzanne and I paid her. I paid her too much attention and she bit me: Brandy that is, not my sister. Though she isn't above bitting.

For supper Grandma asked what I'd like. "Spaghetti", particularly the three foot noodles. She made the mistake of breaking the noodles in the pot. "It ruins the flavor", I told her. Next time she carefully bent the noodles without breaking them. I happily slurp my spaghetti, three feet at a time.

After supper there isn't much choice for television. In Sydney with a good antenna you can get CBS and little else. We watch the Twins play baseball. In previous years I brought my own building materials ie: Tog'ls. I found these plastic cubes limiting my creative abilities. Grandma presented me a 500 count box of toothpicks and a bottle of Elmers glue. I built airplanes, trucks, tanks, even a guard tower. These works turned out pretty good. They even survived the garbage burns. The toothpick constructs sat on my desk at home until mom's constant cleaning took it's toll: I couldn't repair the damage with glue.

One summer Aunt Judy showed up with a armful of books from the Jamestown Library. She had books on my favorite subject: space travel/ astronomy. Later, after the sun set, we sat on the store porch. Looking at the Milky Way, Judy told me her views on Cosmology. Only cricket chirps broke the peace. Lightning flashed silently from clouds building on the horizon.

I removed the cushion on the sofa, pulled out the hide-a-bed, put on my pajamas. I was sound asleep before the rain fell.

Sydney Store Floor Plan

This drawing of the Maas Store in Sydney ND is approximately scales so 1/8 inch equals 1 foot. The drawing was done from memory and a couple photos, which you can see here.