The Last Slice

It's hard to find a local where I live. A place you can walk to and become a regular. Be it a bar, which there are none. A grocery store - there is a sad IGA down the block where a girl got shot in the face a few years ago. The carry out three houses from me does not offer much either, a place for a soda or a 24 ounce can of Genny Cream after mowing the lawn. There used to be a pizza place, The Pizza Chateau, behind the carry out but only an aging sign remains.

These guys are down the road from us. They do not make the best pizza in Columbus, but they make a decent enough pie for me to come here 3-4 times a month. They've been around for years. I call, they know my number and are now asking if I want my pizzas pie cut. I'm East Coast, I hate pizza that comes in squares. They know me now as Pie Cut Plunkett my wife tells me. Been going here for about nine years.

This concludes my April Project of Infamous Places I've been in Columbus. Hope you enjoyed the ride. Normal blogging resumes tomorrow. Thinking about another project, which would digitize some stuff I did in the nineties and put it here. We'll see.

I love to watch him swim

He has had very little fear of the water since he was first in the pool, over two years now. Flotation devices were quickly discarded as his ability to tread water on his own was determined.

He's still hesitant to jump in on his own, but he does love being thrown in.

Swimming underwater is his new fun, he's even trying to sit on the bottom (of the shallow end) for a few moments. He's still not interested in being on his back in the water though.

It's a passion, confidence and strength he has developed on his own. He shouts with joy when he's in the water. I'm proud of him.

Beautiful Ohio

Going into this exquisite theater is one of the best things about living in Columbus.

Originally built by the Lowes Theater chain in 1928, it was saved in the late 1970's by people with insight instead of destructive minds. It's been impeccably restored. I've seen a handful of concerts here including Brian Wilson, Yo-Yo Ma and Peter Serkin, but the main reason I go here is CAPA's Summer Movie Series.

The Mighty Morton Organ is brought up from the depths and these days is played by Clark Wilson. One of my memorable film experiences is seeing Four Horseman of the Apocalypse screened with the great Gaylord Carter playing his own, original, score. The theater was also home base to a Laurel & Hardy convention, where hundreds of convention goes all sang along to Sons of the Desert. It's always fun to see a Hitchcock film shown, where those in the know all cheer when the director makes his cameo.

It has been difficult for CAPA to assemble a quality series in recent years, with the studios reluctance to release film prints, but they do their best. The theater survives, and it's a wonderful experience.

This Place on 5th Avenue

She needed a place to stay. I think she found it through Trip Advisor. I'd driven by it hundreds of times without a second thought.

The owner saw the child's seat in my car but did not mention it until a couple of days until her stay. She is a paragon of discretion, so much that Emma chose to stay again on a second visit.

Even after she was not required to stay there anymore, we all became friends. The B&B owner's friendship became so important that we asked her if we could be married at her business. She agreed to allow a group of people from all over invade her livelihood for a weekend, somehow we all survived, despite my tumble down the porch stairs during the reception.

If you're staying in Columbus, want a place a bit different, central to the cool stuff, a great front porch for people watching and want an excellent breakfast in the morning with a fridge full of wine, stay here. You will make a friend for life.

Dessert is not just on the table

If there are no thoughts of having sex with your dinner companion during a meal here you are dining with a blood relative.

I've had a couple of memorable experiences here. None could match up with the first. Never have I experienced such a thick sexual tension. It was during that odd time in which it was not supposed to happen.

I do not know what Alana puts in the food, but it's damn good. It's not cheap, but not ridiculously priced either. You get what you pay for, and then some.

An admission that I was wrong

This place opened up in the Short North sometime in 2006, I think. Used to go there quite frequently. It was a place of Live Journal meetups, crying waitresses, first time I love you's and other awkward social situations.

I did not think they would make it. Usually we were the only people there, and they did not have what was ordered. Happily now, they're thriving, and have added an east side location. A downtown spot has been planned for years. They have a great brunch on weekends, this might be a good one to make a return. Last week I made an appearance on the radio show Speaking of Poetry. If you did not hear it and are interested, here is a link to the podcast. It was a good hour of radio in which we had a lively discussion of autism.

At least one room has a good view

It's a building I've only been inside of five times in my 22 years in this city. Yet, it remains significant.

Divorce hearing. Divorces. Two marriage license. I do not want to go in here again unless someone gives me a seven figure check upon exit.

The Tenth Job

To say it has been a relief working behind the scenes instead of the front lines is an understatement. Twenty five years of direct customer contact left me more than a bit shell shocked and defensive. It's been a different experience, first sharing an interior, windowless room, with three diverse people, now in a bit more of an open space with occasional explosions of activity around me.

But when I turn right, there is light, a western exposure, a parking lot I'll happily look at every day instead of a circulation desk.

The top of the cone

Jeni's is now a destination. I worry that Jeni's has expanded too much and we'll see a quality drop. Jeni's is, hands down, the best ice cream in the world. I will fight you over this fact. One of the first places I took my Scottish Wife in daylight after we met the first time was Jeni's. Not this one, but the one in the North Market. I'd been touting it to her as Mecca for months, because it is, and everyone is allowed.

But I go to the Grandview location most, because it's easiest to get in and out of. Most of the time, there is a line. All of the time, there are smiles. Why? Because people know they're about to have the best ice cream in their lives, or, they're about to for the first time. If Columbus is the Ice Cream Capitol of the World, and I'll tell you anytime that it is, Jeni's is the flag flying proudly from the top of the dome. Yes, it's expensive. But do you eat caviar every night? Drink Bollinger Champagne for breakfast daily? (let me know if you do, I'll bring the toast), go to your luxury box at the opera every night? It's worth every penny. Now if you'll excuse me, there's some Roxbury Road in the freezer that needs my attention.

Phone Calls Never Received

If you do not turn left a very stupid consequence can happen at the end of a 1.2 mile stretch of straight road. Two and a quarter tons moving forward into a November night.

An untried conclusion staked out the way a field goal kicker sees between the uprights before taking the kick with two seconds left. Accelerator pressed so hard you hope your feet do not go Flintstone, or the engine does not throw a rod. You wonder about the safety record of Volvos as a long scream is breathed out during the last quarter mile. Hands off the wheel at the last possible moment. The final surge of adrenaline. A brief flight over a ditch. Plastic and metal, Swedish steel, shred flimsy chain link before slamming into bark and maple bordering a cemetery. The car too old for airbags, only the headlights remain on - shining through a ghostly mix of steam and smoke, as multicolored fluids leak out from torn hoses and broken reservoirs

Passwords are left in prominent place in a notebook at home. Sealed letters in the back seat. God, you hope the car does not explode. An ID left in a conspicuous place. Seat belt left unbuckled. Final songs blasted out of unaware speakers. How fucked up is a life for it to reach this point. How broke do you have to be. How broken is a marriage that you want to break your body, make it irreparable. How much do you have to hate your job to manufacture long distance grief? Leave your family and friends to pick up the pieces of your mess from afar. None of them capable of understanding any of the failed puzzle you kept silent. You watch the tachometer rise and fall with the car still in park. You wait for your hands to stop shaking avoiding touching the wheel before turning away. The best act of cowardice complete, letters are ticker tape in the Scioto. A few minutes later you pull into a driveway of debt and consequences and start a fight in the kitchen about an affair that has not even happened yet - but free to continue being human, making mistakes. No, not that one

The Night Cory Lidle Died

The aftermath of what happens when the poles of your world shift just seeing someone on the other side of baggage claim. No, it was not supposed to happen. It was not allowed to happen. None of the aftermath was. But it did.

I admit it was me who asked for the goodbye kiss. The first, last, and only one it was, except that it was not. We were not supposed to see each other again. Obviously it did not turn out that way, either.

Then it was fifteen months of crazy. The whole thing got written up on Live Journal and I regret making too much of it public. A weekend in October 2006 was a pivotal moment of timelines. Already broken, I did manage to survive it. Hindsight is a moot point. Love is one of the most inexplicable things in the world to explain. The woman who loves me is among the bravest.

What one night in March 2006 did

After years of thinking about it, getting up the nerve, vetting live journal accounts of people involved to see if they were decent enough to deal with, I finally got over myself and went to an open mic night in Columbus.



It was Writers' Block. Six years ago they were located in the Columbus Music Hall in the Olde Town East area of the city. A night, and a time that my life changed. I was pretty hooked from the beginning. Had some good and embarrassing experiences on the mic. Never once have I felt unwelcome.

Later that year, for numerous reasons, including the Music Hall owner's retirement, Writers' Block moved to Kafe Kerouac, and it's been there every Wednesday night since.



It's been a scene of breathtaking poetry and hilarity and I thank everyone who has organized and participated, you keep me from passing the open windows.

Time for a couple of personal plugs. This Friday, tomorrow, I will be on internet radio. Live, at 6PM EST I will be on Speaking of Poetry. Vernell, Izetta and I will be talking about Autism Awareness Month and combining it with National Poetry Month to create a lagoon of happy tears. Here is a LINK to the website. The show streams live, but may become a podcast in a couple of weeks.

This coming Saturday, I will be doing a feature at Westgate Park. The NaPoWriMo Poetry Showcase starts at 2PM and runs for a couple of hours. A number of local poets will be reading. Oh heck here's the whole list: myself, Kinsey Laine Kistler, Alexis Rueall Mitchell, Louise Robertson, Joe "Atticus" Inch, Taye Lamar, Ara Harris, Hanif Abdurraqib. It's in the park's rec center. Admission is free!

Abode 3, House 1, Years 9.5

I do not recommend closing on a house when your child was born premature and is in the NICU. We had been looking throughout the pregnancy and might not have made a decision on this place. Then my son jumped out at us all. We could have kept looking for another month. Desperation makes people do desperate things. Our landlord was being an unsympathetic ass. There was another house we did like, a bit further east of where we are now. The house was brick, on a quieter side street, seemed solid and the basement was more usable. But flaky owners jacked up the price at the first sniff of two potential buyers.



So we ended up with this one instead. Close to where I worked at the time, there's nothing else around, really. There's a sad Kroger that way, and a sadder IGA where a girl got shot in the face the other. It could have been worse. That whole time was a blur of emotion and stress. There was too much crap, and all of her crap brought to our old apartment weeks before were supposed to move in here did not help next to all of my crap. My parents and sister came to help, they wanted to kill me for having too much crap. I did not feel to good about me either.

Then there were the twin ugly QVC rocking chairs that broke less than a year after we had them. Thanks for adding to the pile of junk. Gosh, being a first time parent was starting out so well.

Yes, it was a mess. And I won't even mention the killer ceiling fan incident.

I got this 82 year old house in the divorce, refinanced it a couple of years later and am now trapped here, underwater. At least the reassessment lowered the value of the house considerably, taxes are incredibly low. There, one advantage. And there is a roof over our heads that does not leak the way the toilet now does, again.

So this is my Scottish Wife's mansion. She's done a great job cleaning up my crap and making it a lovely home. She gets it when I die. The streets of America are truly paved with gold.

No, really. Can I win the lottery and give this house to the first taker?

Nine and a half years later

It was where my son spent the first fifty eight days of his life. No, I was not ready for his arrival. No one was. He was twelve weeks early, kicked his way out of his mother and has not slept since.

One of the early pictures.



We took a tour of the facility and birthing area and were supposed to start lamaze classes three days after he was born. Little of it made any sense to me at the time. He was not supposed to be done until Thanksgiving.

The one thing I was sure of, along with his mother, is that he was going to be ok. We had some rough patches in there, seeing him on the c-pap was very traumatic, but we knew we'd all come out of there at some point. And the nursing staff was wonderful, except for one of them. He did have quality care when he stopped breathing at 3AM several times during his stay.

It's not a place I want to stop at red lights, look in all directions, then plow through to get to at 1AM ever again. I do not want to run through the parking garage, be out of breath by the time I tell security what's happening as they send me through. An NICU is not a place I want anyone I know to ever be, unless they're taking their healthy child home.

A quick update on his eating: Last night I crumbled up half a graham cracker in my son's pudding and used the iPad as a reinforcement. For every bite he took, he would get some time with the iPad. He was not happy, tried pushing the bowl away, protesting but he did not turtle or stop eating. He finished the pudding. We did this last week in OT and I was stunned that he ate the pudding. It was the most solid food he's ever eaten. Last night was the first time it happened at home.

Job Number Nine

Spent six and a half years here, the longest I've ever worked anywhere to date.

Not going to recap it much. That all went into my live journal, probably a bit too much of it went there. The great difficulty of the last few years were scarily detailed, when I tried getting ahead in the system and his the glass ceiling repeatedly.

Saw so much theft and lying, and people getting away with it on a daily basis. Learned too late it's not what you do wrong there, but who you are doing it. The place was crazy. A corporate culture of fear became predominant, and that came from management. A lot of people with serious problems would come in, and expect us to heal their woes. Many of the librarians were more like social workers who were skilled in calming down people who acted out continually.

I think this little rant summed up this experience best of all. We got this memo from the boss.

"Hi Staff,

I want your quick feedback on this...What is [workplace's] personality? What does it feel like? What does it look like? How would you describe it?

Please have your feedback to me..."

Naturally, being the obedient drone, I responded

"[workplace] is like the cool college professor you had. The one who would encourage open discussion on many topics without bias, but kept the conversation flowing and made the class safe and interesting. Everyone wanted to attend his classes. There were waiting lists every semester.

Until, seemingly overnight, the professor changed. Discussion was no longer encouraged. Busy work was assigned during class time that took away from the now infrequent open discussion of topics and ideas. Dissent of any kind was frowned upon. Class attendance dropped. Grades were now given by taking tests on opscan sheets instead of creative essays. Then, one semester, the professor disappeared, and no one knew where he went."

And I wondered why I never got that promotion, nor a reply.

The last straw was when HR spelled my name wrong on the memo they sent that told me I was not even going to be considered for an interview for a specific position.

Getting on the escape committee was hard though. In the end, it was a relief. I no longer wanted to be there. I'm sure my attitude was not great. It was best for everyone: myself, my coworkers and the customers. I rarely go in there anymore. The last few times there were people screaming at each other in the parking lot. A child was raped in the bathroom. Another kid was followed out of the building then robbed of his laptop at the nearby bus stop. It's not a safe place. I worry about the people who continue to work there.

Marriage the Second, the Parts that Melted

Somewhere in here I got married for a second time. My soon to be mentioned that a certain Saturday in March also fell on St. Patrick's Day. I thought it was a good idea too.

Finding a venue was tough, but in the end it worked out ok. It was close to the airport for our out of state guests. There was a shuttle and that seemed to work well.

The officiant was wonderful, the theme obvious. Too bad there was a stupid sum of money wasted on an ice sculpture of a Claddagah.

The motel was a spacious Holiday Inn Express, but not anymore.




Does not even look open anymore.

The Eighth Job

In the autumn of 1999 I became a civil servant. The job was assistant manager at the gift shop in the Ohio Statehouse. The location was awesome. It was a charge working in the basement of a 150 year old building that had plenty of history.



That was the original location of the shop. It was a fascinating place to work. People from all walks of life come through here, everyday. I learned a lot about Ohio politics, and that republicans are people too, for the most part. The Governor came in every few months, friendly enough but a doofus. I met Doris Kearns Goodwin when she researched Team of Rivals. Found the officiant for my second wedding. Great man who was one of the volunteer tour guides. All kinds of tour groups came through from all over the state, even the world. Have to say it was easily the best place I worked, but not the best job.

The work itself, was alright. Trinkets, tschockes, Ohio made crafts and other assorted stuff. I screwed up the data entry on inventory and never heard the end of it. Big mistake, yes, but the boss could never get over it. A year and a half in there was not much point to working retail anymore, and I found another job.



A couple of years ago the shop moved, here's a picture of the new location. It's a few dozen feet away, but in a much smaller space. Never was much of a money maker.

The 6 1/2 - 7 Job

The job at the campus bookstore may have been full time with benefits, but the pay was not very good. To supplement my income, and to keep myself busy during a lonely, depressed time I looked for work elsewhere. I managed to get a job here.



The work was part time, mostly nights. It meant quite a few late night walks home. It kept me active and current. For the most part my coworkers were bright and easy to get along with. There was one manager during my first stint there who was deliberately a dick. He'd keep us late after closing past the time the last bus went to campus. He'd knock books on the floor and announce on the store PA that there were books on the floor in the department. He'd schedule you so you work late, have a day off, then come in to open on the day after your day off. A petty tyrant, and he was the reason I left the first time.

I was making better money at job 8 (next post) and really did not need the money, but the store discount was very generous. I resigned.

A few years later, I needed the money after my son was born and applied here again. One of my old managers was still there, called me up and I started again.

The pay was never good, but again, the discount was excellent. For the most part the working conditions were good, especially the second time around when I rarely worked the cash register. I lent a pen to John Glenn, steered an under siege governor to pick up his reserve at the cash register and watched a smug Secretary of the State of Ohio pick up a bunch of copies of the New York Times because his picture was in it.

Left again, on good terms. Was here on and off from 1999-2007. The book business has changed so much in the last five years. I doubt I could go back.

Getting My Bell Rung.

Cooper Stadium was built in 1934 and until 2008 was the minor league ballpark of the Columbus Clippers. At the time of its closing it was the oldest operating facility in the minor leagues. It was a lovely, intimate setting to see a baseball game.



We first saw a game there in April of 1990, it may have been Easter Sunday. We arrived early and I bought a program from a very friendly vendor. Turns out, she sold me a program with a winning number enclosed. We won a welcome wagon pack from a realtor. It was the only time I won any of their contests.

Over the years we saw a lot of good baseball there. We had a friend in the box office who always set us up for tickets. The Clippers were the AAA year of the Yankees. Many great players came through on their way to the majors. Bernie Williams, Jorge Posada and Derek Jeter to name three.

We also saw Deion Sanders, Hideki Irabu and Rey Ordonez, whose throw from short to first hit the first baseman's glove with the most explosive pop I've ever heard.

In the stands I saw Dick Williams and Graig Nettles scouting and one memorable time, Mr. George Steinbrenner himself, who was putting ketchup on his own burger. Really. I guess he trusted no one to do it for him!

Never had a bad time at a game. Saw them win two Governor's Cups. Went to many games in the 1990's then as depression and a new life came along, started going less. It's a shame I did.

In 2008, the last game was played there and a new downtown stadium was built. Hunington Park is perfectly fine. A great place to see a game, but I miss being just two miles down the road from baseball.

Went by there a couple of weeks ago and took these pictures. It's very sad to see how this proud facility has been neglected.







There's all kinds of talk going on about what to do with the site. A racetrack being the main topic. I'm not sure about that, having grown up next the noise of Islip Speedway as a child. But what can be done with a site that is bordered by a highway and two cemeteries? I'd rather see something in there and revenue generated that what is happening in the pictures above.

Never Drove the Zamboni

Around 1995 that a new sport came into our lives.



It was sometime in 1990 or 1991 that we took in our first Ohio State Hockey game. They were playing Michigan and neither team, especially the Buckeyes was very good. The old ice rink was sold out and we ended up in the standing room only area behind the north goal. Ohio State got beaten rather convincingly. For whatever reasons we never went back.

Fast forward a couple of years and my wife has a couple of the players in one of her classes, including the team captain. We end up going to another game, and the team has deteriorated. The coach's contract was not renewed and he resigned. The interim coach, John Markell, was trying to turn the team around and become the permanent coach.

Somehow my wife landed a position writing about the team for a Michigan hockey publication and leveraged her way into writing about the CCHA for a national college hockey website.

I started going to the games as my work schedule allowed and watched John Markell turn the team from a horribly coached team into something slightly short of mediocre to a league upstart in the matter of two seasons. The ice rink began filling up, the pep band played in their corner and the little rink rocked. It was a dump, but it was our dump. And the team was going to be moving out into the newly built Value City Arena in early 1999.

I think the best game at the ice rink was in 1998 when number one ranked Michigan State came to town. The building was rocking and Todd Compeau added to the atmosphere when he scored less than a minute into the game. He also added the game winner on a sweet feed from Dan Cousineau that I caught on a crappy camera.



This was the magical season the Buckeyes went to their first and so far only Frozen Four in Boston, only to lose to Boston College in the semi-finals. About all my wife and I had left was my crappy work situation and this hockey team. So when the season was over, there really was not much of anything left. The marriage officially ended in the autumn of 1998, but I still went to the games, including the last one in the ice rink against Notre Dame.



The team's first game at the Schott was in January of 1999. I was supposed to bring a date, but got stood up. It was for the best. I ended up taking this picture, had it blown up to poster size and signed by the team. They loved it and one of the player's parents asked for the negative. I gave it to Ryan Skaleski's parents and have not seen it since.



The old ice rink had some seating taken out to finally make the ice regulation size (it was fifteen feet short) and now houses the Women's Hockey Team.



Got to know a few of the players a little during this time. The first athletes I met who were not interested in throwing me into a locker or deliberately trying to break my glasses during dodge ball. Good kids. Fine, respectful young men. Their parents are devoted, they get that way through taking their kids to practice at 5AM. You get a few stage parents, but they're rare. One Dad would sit in the end where the opposing goalie was, to see his kid try and score goals. He'd switch ends between periods. Other parents would let the refs hear it, and not just when their son was hit. One hockey mom called the Athletic Director during a road game, demanding the coach be fired.

Like the fan dork I am I have a couple of old, game worn jerseys from this era. Because of this experience my respect for hockey players and what they do increased a hundred fold.

Hard to get to many games these days. I go when I can, the team has been through some changes. Markell was relieved of his duties, the new guy had an epic collapse in the second half of this season, but that's hockey.