Douglas fire

Downtown Douglas was hit by an explosion and fire Wednesday morning. A man drove his car into the side of a building, striking gas lines to the apartments and business. The building blew up and caught on fire. It burned to ground, leaving six people homeless.

No one was hurt in the fire.

The building housed the Center Stage Salon. That's where my wife, her mother and the kids get their hair cut. Elspeth had an appointment there Saturday. Now, we need to find another place. Small worry compared to what all those people need to think about this morning.

On the news

The report of the explosion first came over local TV. Jayne's mom saw it and yelled from her bedroom. I called The Sentinel right away. They hadn't heard it yet, but got on it right away.

My next call was to The Respite coffee shop in Douglas -- What if that was the place that exploded? Jayne and I have been going there for more than a decade and are friends with the owners. Jayne used to work there. The person who answered told me the fire was a block away and that my sacred House Blend coffee was safe -- for now.

Here's where the humor sets in.

I turned back to WOOD-TV channel 8 to watch their coverage and they brought back the Ted Baxter of West Michigan from retirement -- Tom Van Howe. He lives just across the river from the fire site.

I think I wrote about him in a blog a few months ago. He retired in November. He stammered, coughed and missed his cues for 25 years. He just sucked. That's all I can really say.

Well, I thought maybe that, in his four-month-long absence, my memory of his ineptness had grown to mythological proportions -- maybe I was exaggerating his badness.

No. No.

As I watched him stammer, cough and miss his cues at the fire scene during the live broadcast, heard him get yelled at by the fire fighters because he was too close to the scene, and listened to him report rumors and unsubstantiated information, it all came back.

Thought: Old anchormen never die. I wish they'd just fade away.

Make 'em laugh

So I was thinking about a stupid joke the other day and started laughing. Really laughing. And I realized that the people at work thought I had finally snapped. Maybe I had because it was a stupid joke. Juvenile. But it is the funniest joke ever. Ever.

Soon I'll share with you what I think are the five funniest jokes ever. Ever. But my laughing fit got me thinking about humor.

I love to laugh. I would rather watch a comedy than a drama almost any day. However much I love "Casablanca," "Reds" and "Citizen Cane," and consider them masterpieces, I would rather watch "Caddyshack," "A Fish Called Wanda" or "Strange Brew."

That scene in "Caddyshack" when Billy Murray's character talks about caddying for the Dalai Lama, with the pitchfork against the kid's neck, that's classic: "So I got that going for me." I'm laughing now.

Oh, and that whole Chuck Norris Web site (www.chucknorrisfacts.com) sends me into howls though I've never seen an entire Chuck Norris film. I'm proud of that.

Other things to laugh about

For me, humor is a release. It is funny, but the laughter can manifest other emotions.

When I'm super-stressed, my laughter can become uncontrollable and even sinister. People have often misunderstood this for "strangeness," as my one boss puts it, but it's a healthy release of tension. The pressure of deadline work on a newspaper, coupled with all the problems in personal life, can make me reach the breaking point. Often, instead of blowing up with anger, I find humor and just let the laughing loose.

Also, I can laugh when I'm sad. I do cry about things. I cry a lot. I'm a prissy, girlly man about tears. I've told people that I cry when Spock dies in "Start Trek II" and when Jessie sings in "Toy Story II." Victorian poems make me cry, as do simple reflections on historical events (almost any Holocaust image will send the tears flowing, or, just the other day, I was reading a recount of the battle of Cannae that brought a tear).

But I'll also laugh in awkward situations, such as the death of a family member or a bad event, such as a car crash or fire. I try to do this only around people who understand that I'm not laughing about the tragedy, but am so disturbed and upset that tears can no longer handle the overflow of emotions. The more I joke about a topic in this situation, the more upset I am and the harder time I have reconciling the beauty of life with the ugly reality of truth.

Someday I suppose I should study humor. I tried in college, but I was not allowed because the course on humor was only available to "gifted and talented" students. I was considered neither gifted nor talented. That explains so much of my life (and why I hate "gifted and talented" programs at any school) and why my donations to my college can be called laughable.

Top five jokes

You have suffered through my psycho-babble, so here's the point of my blog today. The top five jokes that make me laugh any time, any place. Please remember that the jokes are often best "heard," not read, because of spelling and double meanings, and that if you insert them into everyday conversation, they're even funnier:

5: From a police report. Two peanuts were walking down the road. One was a salted -- Nut.

4: ... I didn't even know the pope was wearing a hat!

3: Two guys walked into a bar. The third one ducked.

2: Rectum? Darn near killed 'em!

1: Did you hear about the optometrist? He fell into his lens grinder and made a spectacle of himself.

Thought: I'm laughing. Inside.

Simpsons who?

I heard the other day that "The Simpsons" has been renewed for two more years. My first reaction -- What's the point?

I was a huge "Simpsons" fan years ago. I was first turned off by the early seasons' juvenile animation, but once I got past that, I was hooked. The show was intellectual at one level, spiritual on another and gross on so many more. And it was funny.

I have my favorite episodes -- The one with Ringo and the naked Mr. Burns picture, the B Sharps, Mr. Plow, Carl and the hair replacement drugs and, of course, the Halloween specials. They all stand out.

So, I don't know when the show jumped the shark. I think it was when more and more celebrities started showing up (the Paul McCartney episode sticks in my mind as a particularly bad one) and the plots became less grounded in "everyman" experiences (shopping at the Try and Save, having a crush on a co-worker, life as an elementary student). I tried watching a new episode this season, but it had an aftertaste of an episode from a previous season -- like stale beer, really -- and I don't think I laughed once.

To the creators of "The Simpsons," I ask: Won't you please let it die? There is no dignity in staying around too long. Yuo guys are rich enough. Step aside, Homer, and let your more nasty and funnier successor step in from "The Family Guy."

Thought: D'oh!

Green Eggs and Ham

I volunteered to accompany my youngest daughter's class to a presentation of by The Grand Rapids Symphony of "Green Eggs and Ham" in Zeeland. It was a great show -- a musical of the Dr. Seuss book.

I love the book and have read it a million times to the girls. They always liked when the characters plunge underwater and I read the lines like they're scuba diving by wiggling my finger between my lips.

The trip entailed riding on a school bus, something I haven't done for probably 20 years or so. You know, those buses aren't made for 6-foot-2 adults in winter coats. At least the buses today are nicer than those I road to school. The seats are completely covered with padding now -- none of those bare metal edges. Also, this bus was clean -- no dirty words scrawled all over the seats and no cuts and tears in the seats themselves. And no one was smoking in the back of the bus! How times have changed.

During the performance, one of my daughter's classmates sat next to me and was so thrilled for the captive audience that he never stopped talking the entire show. He was fascinated with the idea that, if he was a lizard, he would have sticky feet that would allow him to climb on walls all over the auditorium.

The show was in Zeeland, a town that I have written about here before. The bumpy bus ride through the city again confirmed my belief that Zeeland is kind of plain, even ugly in many respects, and has a long way to go to draw people to its downtown.

Communication

The paper's photographer was at the performance and got some nice shots. Here's what's funny (pathetic, not ha-ha funny). At our news meeting to discuss stories for the next day's paper, the managing editor says we have these feature shots of the symphony and "Green Eggs and Ham." I make a comment about going with my daughter's class, looking at the features editor who is right across from me at the meeting table.

About seven hours later, I'm looking through the feature pages on computer and see they have a preview story on a performance by the GR Symphony of "Green Eggs and Ham." Their story is on page C6 for Thursday. Our story is on page A2 for Thursday. Never the twain shall meet! By the time I find this out, it's too late because the pages have already been plated and are in the pressroom.

So, we sat there at a staff meeting, discussed the symphony, and the two people from the features department never spoke up about their story. I could have purt an extra line or two in the A2 story telling people about the C6 story that previews the symphony's Saturday performance of he event!

And we're in the communication business?

Thought: I do like green eggs and ham.

Birthday Party

Sunday was a birthday party for our oldest daughter. She's turning 9 this week. It won't be long before she's mouthing off to us, turns into a moody middle schooler and despises her parents. So, we try to take advantage of the young age and have a birthday party we all can enjoy.

This year, we went to Crazy Bounce in Holland Township. It's basically a pole barn filled with inflatable slides and climbing toys. Lots of bounce. And lots of crazy, too.

The kids seemed to like it. We invited seven of her friends and they all ran around like maniacs. I just wandered around, helping lift the youngest of the kids into the toys while trying not to get run into.

An ice cream cake followed with the opening of presents. She received some very nice gifts. All her friends know she likes monkeys, so almost everything had a primate theme.

When we got home late in the afternoon, the girls refused to nap (Not me. I went right to the couch for a quick 40 winks). So, after their shower, I got them to bed about 8:30 p.m. I let them sleep to 6:45 this morning -- pretty late considering the early start to school. Man, were they groggy. I feel sorry for their teachers today.

Thought: Youngest daughter's birthday is in June. I wonder where she wants to go?

Bad Poetry Day No. 2

As warned, I offer you another installment in my Bad Poetry collection.

This one was first written when I was in high school in relation to "The Canterbury Tales." I love that work and just re-read it a year or so ago. Still love it.

I first wrote a dirty little ditty about a man heading to Canterbury to amuse my friends. They weren't amused, but the juvenile work eventually evolved into this sophomoric poem. I'll include the limerick at the end of this entry, so if you're easily offended, stop at the first poem. That should offer enough offense for most folks.

The poem is a loose sonnet, inspired, if I recall, by Shakespeare's sonnets. I never much liked his plays, but felt a need to know them so I could drop lines in party conversation and people would think I was literate. The sonnets are the jewels in the crown.

Canterbury Trails

There once was a man from Canterbury
Who traveled far ahead of Chaucer’s tale
And was called Sir Accolade, titularly,
By the ladies he would often unveil.

He owned no horse, nor in cab did he ride,
But crossed the Isle on foot as pilgrims do
To find the church where Tom a’Becket died
And restore depleted cross its thew.

A weary immigrant he would close confide,
In the fairer sex he would dare entreat
His misfortunes of fictitious betide
Until his stomach grew happily replete.

He then donned coat, took smooth walking cane,
To disassemble his legerdemain.

* More offensive alert *

And here's the dirty little one that started it all:

There once was a man from Canterbury
Whose penis was dark and hairy.
He used to hang it out
And the girls would shout,
"My! That's handsome very!"

Thought: If the play's the thing, why didn't he hang that out?

Butterflies

I give a whole-hearted recommendation to visit the butterfly exhibit at the Meijer Gardens in Grand Rapids. We have been going since our oldest was in a stroller and it seems to get better every time.

This year, we hit the exhibit early on. Usually, we're the stragglers coming in at the end of March when the butterflies have tired themselves out. Not this year -- we picked a sunny day on the second weekend.

The place was busy, but there was plenty of room to watch the butterflies. Our youngest daughter was excited because she saw the Blue Morpho flying around. She had seen this butterfly on "Go Diego Go" on Nickelodeon. She stood motionless for a several minutes -- now that's saying something -- watching them float around.

My oldest daughter was lucky enough to have a butterfly land on her arm.

After the trek through the rain forest, we went outside to the kids play area. It's fantastic! The sun was shining and it was 60 degrees, so exploring all the kids stuff was great exercise for us parents. There's a tree house, walkways, huge Lincoln Logs the kids can use to build their own houses, drums and all kind of stuff to tire out the little ones.

Of course, we trekked up to see the DaVinci giant horse. It's anatomically correct, too. Explain that to the kids! Some of the Andy Goldsworthy outdoor sculptures were up as well.

The place is easy to get to: M-6 to I-96 West to the East Belt Line. It was my first trip on the new M-6 and I got lost. I took I-96 East and had to double back. I ain't too bright.

The cost is high -- $12 for each adult and $6 for each child -- but with the outdoor sculptures and kids park, it was worth it.

Thought: Can you still hear the song "Dog and Butterfly" by Heart?

Why Zeeland?

When my wife and I started looking for a place to live in West Michigan, we eliminated several communities we were sure we didn't want to call home. Among those I scratched off was the City of Zeeland.

Now, Zeeland has a great school district, good infrastructure and a long history -- founded in 1847. But for me, Zeeland has one of those intangibles I dislike -- a tradition of closed-mindedness based on an oppressive religious tradition. This is not unusual for West Michigan. Holland was founded not as a community to liberate the mind and soul, but as a place where a group of people could get away from the liberalizing world of the 19th century and keep those changes out.

For the City of Holland, this really changed after World War II when GE located a large factory in its borders and migrant workers came to area farms. Suddenly, there were non-Dutch, non-Reformed and, most importantly, non-White people in Holland.

In Zeeland, this change never really happened. The industries stayed local and thrived. The religion stayed Reformed and most of the people stayed white.

So, I crossed the City of Zeeland off my desired places to live. I don't want to live in that bubble.

Alcohol

Now, I watch Zeeland struggle with a dying downtown and big debate about whether or not to allow alcohol in the city. I've been reading about merchants who want more money that they think alcohol sales will bring and community members who say alcohol is evil and will destroy the community.

I offer my voice to the debate by saying that alcohol sales alone will not make a difference to Zeeland, and that there needs to be more substantial changes to the city if merchants are going to get my money.

First, Zeeland is hard to get to. Not for local folks, but the downtown doesn't just want local folks. They want people like me who will bring in cash from 15-20 miles away and not cost them anything else. The main routes to the city are hard to follow and the roads twist in confusing ways. No biggie, of course, but if I'm from out of town, I don't want to be challenged by city streets and traffic lights.

Answer: Straighten some roads. Put up some nice directional signs.

Second, there's nothing in downtown Zeeland that I can't get somewhere else. Yes, I've been to Zeeland and found no real reason to go back often. I've gone to the museum and cemetery for research and I've visited the bicycle shop (very nice owner and a pleasure to chat with) because I try to visit as many bike shops as possible. But take the family there? Why?

Answer: No restaurant, whether it serves beer or not, is going to pull me there consistently. I need a "destination" or a "gimmick," such as a children's museum, a fantastic clock collection from Herman Miller, a zoo, something. Saugatuck has a long tradition of the arts, shopping, food and partying to pull me in. Fennville has a straight main state highway through it making it easy to get to and it markets its farm and orchard traditions well and is even getting into the arts.

Third, Zeeland city is plain. It's not ugly, just unremarkable. I am not awed by anything in the city and have to go out of my way to pass the striking country scenery to make me end up in the city. Chicago Drive is one of the ugliest stretches of road I have ever seen.

Answer: Pull me in concentrically, that is, have outlying reasons to first come to the area, then I might go to the core.

Last, a conglomeration of the first three, is change the community's image. Elect a non-white female mayor who is under the age of 50, have some community parties (like Tulip Time in Holland or Glenn's Pancake Festival) that show you have fun. Selling alcohol might help but is not the answer alone. Most importantly, show me that I'm welcome even though I'm not a conservative Christian.

Thought: I act like I know everything.

Taxes and prayers

I went to get the taxes done this morning, but the place was having computer problems so I have to reschedule. No big deal.

While I had the time, I stopped for a little meditation break at the park in Hamilton at the Rabbit River. It's a nice spot with the dam on one side and the old wooden railroad bridge on the other. As I was relaxing, watching the big snowflakes fall, a swan paddled up the river and stopped to dive under the wooden bridge. As it dove into the cold water for a snack, its feet stuck straight up in the air and kept paddling. Can you see those orange flippers just spinning in the air? The scene was comic and cosmic at the same time. A spiritually funny moment.

You see, the swan is part of a symbol for some Vedanta societies, the spiritual path I have been following for almost two decades. So I was sharing a laugh with an image that Ramakrishna and Vivekananda must have smiled at, too.

It had reminded me that I was going to write a rant here about The Holland Sentinel's Sunday editorial on prayer. I'll keep the rant short.

The editorial was praising the community for starting public meetings with a prayer. This practice floored me when I started covering meetings here a million years ago -- what happened to the separation of church and state?

Well, I've come to accept the practice despite my personal disagreement with it, though I still get ruffled by what usually closes the prayer. You see, most often the prayer starts with a general thanks for existence and the bounties of the community -- that's OK -- but it almost always ends with the phrase, "In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ ..."

That's what gets me. It just excluded non-Christians and the State should not do that. I always figured that if I was not a reporter or editor, and that this action wouldn't get me fired, I'd write a letter and stand up in the meeting to ask the boards not to exclude me from the prayer.

That's what has always been my turn-off to the "Big Three" religions -- they are exclusionary. They say to believe in them or else. You must, for example, believe Jesus is the only way to salvation, period. Islam and Judaism are just as exclusive. They spend lots of timing belittling other beliefs and condemning others. Muslims destroyed pagan temples just as Christian missionaries today rip away local cultures and beliefs in Asia and Latin America.

So, that's what set me on my spiritual path to chuckle about swans sticking their feet in the air on a cold, snowy morning when I should have been having my taxes done.

Thought: Consider the "Family Guy" episode when Peter received an unexpected bonus, so he exclaimed, "Thank you, Jesus!" Next frame, you see Jesus lean over the Krishna and say, "Oh, that was you who did that! I'm so sorry." And Krishna responds, "That's OK. It happens all the time."

Eats, shoots and blogs

I had the chance recently to read the book, "Eats, Shoots and Leaves." It's an international best-seller and as a newspaper editor, I was supposed to love it. Beyond the cute panda art and the initial ha-ha pun title, I found the book annoying. It is accurate and complete in its assessment of grammar and punctuation, but it is bothersome because its secondary message beyond accuracy and clarity (top priorities, I grant!) is oppression.

What? How can the author so hung up on commas and semicolons be an oppressor? A word Nazi? Easily. She uses language as a class weapon, as a tool to beat students so they hate writing and reading from middle school through their adult lives.

First, understand that clarity and communication are the top issues and beyond debate, but how you reach that clarity and communication is not.

So, we all know a panda would not belly up to the bar, have a snack (eats), pull a gun and fire (shoots) then exit (leaves), as the book's title chides us. In the context of a talk on eating habits, we understand the sentence just fine. But take this sentence in a five page report on pandas that an eighth-grader writes and mark it in red and you probably have an eighth-grader who is going to hate writing.

No, we shouldn't pass students who give innacurate answers, but should realize that we are always learning and that humiliation and ridicule don't help.

So, how does this lead to class oppression? People who don't write or speak the way of the ruling class ("proper" commas, for example) become outsiders, we call them "stupid" or "uneducated," when, in fact, in their communities, they are just the opposite.

I'm part of that oppression, by the way. As a newspaper editor, I enforce antiquated grammar rules and play games with word minutia to show reporters that I'm "better" than they are.

Don't fret, though. Some readers enjoy my many mistakes as well. Little people with little minds like to clip my mistakes and send them to me and tell me how stupid I am.

It's a shame that language that can create beautiful poetry and images has to be used as a club to belittle and stomp on people's lives.

Thought: Huh?