Matthew Musing

John, Uncle Drew and the drums of Christmas morning.

I’m right here. But posting has been light. Family stuff, work stuff and a lack of newly acquired embarrassing pictures from my youth are contributing factors. The lovely Joyce has been picking up the slack at Stop Me When I Am Lying, so stop by there as well.

My big brother recently emailed a few pictures of me in my role as a minor league usher. I’ll post soon.

I am participating in the Race for the Cure in Cleveland. This year the 5k race (I’ll walk) will occur September 15. Please pledge your support for breast cancer education and research at my race page.

Thank you!

Today the whole family spent the whole day together. Swimming lessons were followed by a trip to play in the air-conditioned mall. Lunch at the food court was followed by a trip to the circus and french fries Friday. All the boys went to bed easily and the Tribe has the lead. AND we saw Grandma on her birthday!

This is a side-by-side comparison. I’m the one on the right.

You can learn more about the guy on the left here. My brothers will appreciate this most of anyone. They remember me in second grade, when this picture was taken. They also read MAD.

This must be from about 1986 or 1987. The shadows make it look like I had a Kid ‘N Play. Not really. my hair casts a long shadow even when worn in a butch cut. I publish this for laughs, and to remind anyone of my generation just how cool we were when we combined the Wayfarers and the skinny tie. (Actually, they were cheap Wayfarer imitations.)

I’m still looking for the image of me in my red Indians jersey. But the search has uncovered snapshots I had totally forgotten Not to mention the actual events pictured.

Here I am holding my new firetruck. There was a period when I was between three and five years old in which I was obsessed with firetrucks. I was fortunate, because there was an auxiliary firehouse on my street. It was used to store a spare truck and my mother had access to the building. She tells me she could just open the man door to the garage and I would be transfixed, staring at the truck. I still remember the smell of the rubber and canvas on the hoses. And the spiders. Good times.

But why stop at one embarrassing picture? If I am looking at this Christmas picture correctly, I seem to have a toy gun in my hand. Can you even BUY a silver-plated toy cap gun anymore? I think I am wearing cowboy Jammies. I’m guessing this was about 1969 or 1970.

Here is the deal. The Indians are having a throwback weekend and making it 1977. I kind of wish I was going on Sunday to have my son get a crooked C batting helmet. Just like the one my brother Drew got for me when I was a tyke back in the day. I don’t have a picture of me wearing it. Somewhere I have a picture of me in the red jersey. I’ll rummage through my hard drive and post it someday. For now you will have to settle for the Easter threads, 1977. At least my sister looked presentable.