Amtrak riding buddy.

I am not overly fond of flying.  In fact for years I refused to get on a plane. I did some group therapy and have managed to get on planes either with Valium or Bourbon. I rode Amtrak for a few house buying trips when we were transferred.  Marty and Erik would put me on the train then fly to the destination, and pick me when I rolled in. 

In January 1982 we were transferred back to Louisville KY.  Chicago was as close as I could to get to Louisville by train.  Marty arranged for someone working for him to pick me up and bring me Louisville to buy a house  (the driver was visiting family in Chicago.)  So I did not have to fly.

When we got to the station in Martinez all the passengers were all agog.  Pointing, whispering, asking for autographs.  I looked at the man and I had no idea who he was.  The friend who drove me to the station said it's John Madden.  The link is for those like me at the time who have no idea who he is.  It was patiently explained to me by Ann telling me to look at his ring, a huge Super Bowl ring.  He also was a local radio commentator and did commentary on pro football games.  I rarely do pro sports.  And only when the local teams are in playoffs.  The ring was won before I moved to California.

Marty and I are more about University of Kentucky basketball.  Go CATS!!!

John and I have one thing in common, we do not like to fly.  This was before his fancy bus days.  He rode the train and then had drivers if he couldn't get to his final destination by train. There was also a golf pro (no idea what his name was, a minor pro) who wouldn't fly after he was ditched in a lake while in the military.  And then there was me.

John Madden is a lovely down to earth man.  He got on the train with an entourage and I thought fancy star, will be a pain.  Wrong.  Every time he walked through the cars he spoke to me, if he saw me in the dining car he spoke. In the bar car we had conversations.  We talked about me buying a house, we talked about the scenery. We talked about the golf pro in the lake.  We chatted for 2000 miles.  It didn't matter that I knew nothing about sports.  He can talk about lots of other things.  It was a lovely cross country trip.

I am sure he doesn't remember me, he met lots of people in his train riding days.  But I will never forget meeting him.  He was fun, he was just a guy, he didn't act like a super star, he didn't hog the conversation.  And that attitude makes him a Super Star in my book.

SUPER BOWL SUNDAY

Yesterday we went to a Super Bowl Party. Lots of food, lots of champagne, lots of diverse guests. There were guests in their early 20's up to the oldest, Marty and me in our 60's. We had a fun afternoon.

We are not sports fans, except for March Madness. Then we are rabid University of Kentucky and University of Louisville fans. Marty went to both schools. Pro sports, don't really care. We like the people and the commercials at the Super Bowl parties. I did have an issue with one part of this party.

At half time some of the people started all but booing THE WHO. They were too old, they were off key, when a shirt came untucked, boos for old man belly. Why wasn't some young group doing half time? On and On with the old taunts. Since I am older than anyone in THE WHO, I quickly got tired of it. The main person yelling at the screen may have been in her 40's. She looked like she had been rode hard and been put up wet. Looked way older than her age. I am aging much better than she is. I finally told them to hush, I was older than anyone in THE WHO and I didn't want anymore slams on aging. That slowed them down some, but the aging slams continued.

I guess they all think they will be young forever. WRONG, time marches on. And if you picked the wrong grandparents, you can look like hell at 50. Thank goodness Marty and I picked the right grandparents, we are aging gracefully.