HERO CATCHATORE: CACCIATORE!

Roommate spotted the big chicken on the kitchen counter that I had bought at Safeway for 79 cents a pound, "You going-ta fry that chicken?" It wasn't actually a question, more a declaration of preference. Given my own choice, I always bake the chicken.

"No," I'm not; but you can!"I say to him.

"I'm not fryin' that!" he retorts and he turns away from me and flops unshowered on the living room couch.

Roommate is either the best human being on the planet or the acidic opposite of that! So, given the side of him presented to me right now, of course I'm not going to fry the chicken--anyhow,I don't really care that much about my fried chicken--the best fried chicken is some you buy from KF or that someone else makes, right! Anyhow, you don't really talk to alpha males with attitudes the way he did; anyhow not ones such as me, girl-friendless, on the edgy end of sixty, and on steroids. So, it was real certain that there would not be fried chicken! Then, I got the idea that what I do like, that I can make in the big electric skillet--all bachelors have electric skillets to make the evening meal in, correct--is chicken catchatore. I never have a recipe for it because I don't always know what I am going to have on hand to put into it. But, I do have my notes on how to prepare it and once I asses what I have on hand and what I can easily acquire, I make a plan from there:

Open a bottle of beer. I dust the chicken with Italian prepared breading mix, salt, cayenne pepper, paprika, and then brown it for a bit. While I am doing that I parboil separately green bell pepper, other red sweet Anaheim peppers, and sweet onion petals (this time they happened to be red) and maybe some celery. Then I pour off the oil that I browned the chicken in and put in a dollop of regular olive oil (not extra virgin), and a few cloves of garlic ,and some bay leave that I collected on Hero Trail; after that, I drain the parboiled vegetable into the mix. Last, I add hunks of fresh mushroom. Washed, cleaned, and chopped, Then I let the whole thing simmer for about 45 minutes while I make spaghetti, wash up the cooking dishes, and finish my beer.

DISAPROVAL HERO!

It is by Kamaroh's mind, tweaking a play on the old thumbs up or thumbs down signal: a working maverick, screwball, mouthball, and campassionate parent--all windows being open at the same time. I have a notion that in order to survive without shedding any of the trappings a man picks off the floor of his personality drawer when he gets up in the morning, and then puts back on without re-laundering, that he must have inside, at least by visualization as a manfiestation of self, a length of wire cable--mine being twisted and frayed in spots--in order to adhere to his hold on survival by defendance mode; despite the opinions of his relatives and other folks he cares about.

THE GREETER!

The first thing I saw outside my window when I woke up this morning is a huge camphor tree on the corner and green hills in the background and I am so grateful that I am alive in Muirsville, California today. The tree's presence relaxes and comforts me. Sometimes the sun presents its drowsy self through the puzzle of its branches thus bringing me nicely into the day. There is a dichotomy between my internal unrest and the search for relief from it that my soul demands, which meld themselves these mornings for me in Muirsville by the camphor tree's presence---

DEAR PAUL TUETAL, The Burden I Carry Is Heavy....

Again I had the urge to Email a celebrity; this time it was Paul Tuetel; so, again, I figured out that the best way to handle that was to make the contact right here!. Roommate and I were talking about Orange County Choppers and Paul Senior and his book that he recently published and we were both in accord that we coveted his man-toy possessions--property, a business, cars, trucks, motorcycles, and pygmy horses. I said that I liked the way he had apparently pulled himself up by the bootstraps. Roommate, constantly the one to challenge whatever I say, retorted "How do you know that! Maybe he was born rich!" I don't know that Paul Teutal wasn't born rich--I would guess from his muscle tone that he wasn't--but what Kamaroh does believe in with every minuscule part of his being is in the triumph of the common man; and, if Paul wasn't born rich, then more power being to him and his hard nosed success is my way of thinking about it.

Always I have been piqued by the Teutals' direct, in-your-face, confrontal style; I actually admire it and think it a strong, alpha male, male approach to relating to one's lads--forget the pouty stuff I see going on. Anyhow, where I meant to go with all this is that Kamaroh has been watching the recent Chopper episodes in which there is a split between Paul Senior and Paul Jr. and it hits close to home for me and I was able to value Senior's pain; and so, Paul Tuetal Senior, since I am a better lyricist than fabricator this is what I came up with: Lord, this burden I carry in my heart is heavy, and Lord the burden it ain't my my sins and it aint my brother; it is my son. #

USMC:SWIMMING WITH DEATH,

(THIS IS MEANT AS AN ADDENDUM TO MY POST: "USMC: Swimming With Sharks! ")

I met up with a friend, Tom, at Moonbucks Coffee Palace the other morning. He's a former Marine also; younger, more solidly employed, and far more gung ho than me. I told him my story about meeting up with the upitty former Marine at the supermarket; and then he related a story similiar to mine about an experience he had with a Marine motorcycle group member in Sacramento . He totally understood my indignance and he understood where I was coming from. I said to him that I know I am out of touch with what is going on for new Marines and that I had the notion that maybe they were becoming elietists and that I didn't really know what they were thinking about? His response was, "Killing...." He paused for a moment as on that note as my eyes locked in on his in exclamation. What! He continued on by saying he had observed in the fellows newly back was that killing was a subject they talked about extensively. #

CHESLEY B. "Sully" SULENBERGER

My heroes are mostly go fast individuals; I haven't a clue what kind of vehicles Captain Sulenberger has in his garages at his home in Black Hawk; but, for sure, his history as an USAF F4 Phanton II fighter plane pilot qualifies him to run in the air with Larry & David Ellison and some others; probably not Chuck Yeager. However, I am not going to put him on Kamaroh's hero list. Clearly what he did was clear headed; he was able to sidestep his emotions and extract from his brain what he needed to do when he realized that this incident was, indeed, the real deal--"...controlled and professional." What bothers Kamaroh about him is that he doesn't appear to be a man Kamaroh would encounter and befriend at the YMCA ; he doesn't have the bodily connection that is clearly evident with all Kamaroh's Heroes. His is a cool story but, as Roomate says, what is not factured into the story is (beside the protectioion offered by God) his good luck; Rooomate says that he kept the nose of the plane up as any pilot in the world would have attempted to do but had a second wave or a big gust of wind appeared, or anything, it could have gone much differently! Because, I as well as all foks need heroes--especially we men--if I ever see him in pulic I will give him my world famous 'two thumbs up sign'; and, I will yell enthusiastically, "Hey, Skully!" and with that familiarity, to my mind, I am complimenting him ... but hey! Chesley B. Sullenberger just doesn't make Kamaroh's list.

DEAR WILLIE BROWN, I HAVE A QUESTION FOR YOU!

The former mayor of San Francisco, Willie Brown, now writes a column for the San Francisco Chronicle called Willie's World. Now Willie Lewis Brown is not particularly a hero of mine but I in my opinion he is cooler than Gavin Newsome. The point I am attempting to get through to with all this is that I read his column sometimes and although his attempt at writing can be is kind of stiff, he can be witty, he has a large warehouse of truisms and he talks about interesting things that are going on in San Francisco that I wouldn't know about in any other way. Well, the otherday I noticed at the bottom of his column is his Email address and an invitation to contact him with questions. Right away it entered my mind to ask him a late bloomer question; I'm the guy who just got his Master's Degree from San Francisco State University in Creative Writing on my 69th birthday, right! And, the question rocks out somewhat like this: a few years ago, probably when I was 60, I got the notion to ask the VA for a fertility test. Well, the bottom line was yes I could have more children but that they would have to be test tube babies. Then following that information, I found an article in a newspaper that said children born of older men frequently are special education kids. So, I guess that information, and the fact that Kamaroh didn't have a wife or a girl friend, took him the rest of the way out of the loop. No more kids and no grand kids, the end of the line for heroes. But, I understand that Willie Lewis Brown fathered a child when he was 60-ish. At the time I read about it, I thought that was pretty cool and I vowed to keep myself informed about it.

---So, I decided that I am pretty sure I will not get around to Emailing Willie Brown with my question but why didn't I go ahead and post it right here on my blog!!!!:

Dear Mr. Brown,

I read in the Chronicle some years ago that you and your lady friend of the time had a daughter.

My question for you sir, as one late bloomer to the other, is "What is going on with that child? How old is she now. And, with my best wishes, is she in good health?"

Cordially yours,

Kamaroh P. Jones

USMC; SWIMMING WITH SHARKS!

I met up with a fellow in the 'check out' line noon Thurs-- at the Upscale Mart near my house; my goal being to buy French Onion soup for the pot roast I was preparing for dinner; I noticed on his faded red power tie he had an unpolished Marine Corps tie clasp and a bad knot; and, I could help but inquire of him if I was seeing true, was that a Maine Corps tie bar? At the same moment, I also noticed that he was wearing a faded red baseball cap with a Marine Corps patch on the front of it. In retrospect, I realize that there was a lot of faded about the man.

---It turns out that he is a member of a local Marine Corps social group. He seemed to have difficulty processing the fact that Kamaroh could possibly have been a Marine (me too sometimes actually). The only ID I had to present to him was the bulldog tatoo on my arm, which I then did.

---He seemed to have difficulty deciding if he thought Kamaroh qualified to attend their social function at nearby Hi-End City; but, I guess my informing him that I was a member in longstanding of the Presbyterian church in that hamlet seemed to help and he agreed to Email me the information on the meeting this coming Saturday morning.

---Being on steroids it is very easy for me to be miffed off in interactions with other men on the norm, and as I left with my french onion soup, his uppity attitude bugged me, and I wondered how anyone who--looking at his dangling ID badge--was an employee of the County Hospital down the street could elevate himself so! Man! am I glad I now have Kaiser Emergency Room privileges and don't have to worry so much about being sent to County when the VA clinic is closed.

---It soon dawned on me, given that I haven't been in normal social intercourse with the Marine Corps body of troops in forty years, that maybe they all believe they are an elitist group nowadays....

---So, basically all day I pondered if I wanted to cancel my previous plan for Saturday morning and go hang out with a bunch of former Marines; and enjoy the networking and comradely payoffs to that; and, surely, the venerability I would be exposing myself to 'cause it is unpredictable who you are going to again meet up with--Marines don't always put down grudges very well.

---Anyhow, as profound insights (give or take 'profundity', that is!) always present themselves in the middle of the night and wake you up, I woke up in the middle of the night last night and I knew that attending this social function of former Marines required a different mind set than attending a Mens Breakfast at my church and that more information, more time, and more caution would be required (my paranoia that the Marines install in you very early in boot camp); and that I surely was not going to go to this.

---Serving in the Marines was not easy for Kamaroh even though I also bask in the current popularity they have earned; however bear in mind that not only am I a hero but I an old and experienced salt who is fully aware that hanging out with Marines can be like swimming with sharks, likely invigorating, but the only comfort to it being that you are likely safe from attacks by packs of wild dogs. #

GAVIN NEWSOME IN NAME ONLY!

As I see it, the constant rub for folks in San Francisco is that Gavin Newsome is out of Dodge a lot. Talk is that he is frequently on the jet to Switzerland (why anyone would want to frequently go to Switzerland, Kamaroh doesn't know?); and that the Google jet takes him one place and the Getty jet takes him another; and that likely there are other planes that take him cool places under the public radar. So, folks are saying that in reality he is the mayor in name only. He is not here to run the place. I want to be very clear here that Kamaroh does not endorse Gavin's run for govenor. No way. I actually would rather see Heather Fong as a candidate but I probably will get shouted down for that if I mention it yet another time. Anyhow, I understand that she is a very private person so who is to say if she is a Republican or a Democrat. anyhow, Willie Brown kind of sticks up for Gavin; Willie's response to all the flack is, "Just let me say that home cookin' in my opinion has always been overrated."