Menards!!

WARNING: I am about to ruin a store for you.

You may or may not have heard of the department store chain Menards (pronounced meh-NARDS), but it's pretty prevalent here in Indiana. There are commercials for it on TV all the time ("Menards!", "Save at Menards!!", "Check out Menards!").

Maybe I'm immature, but every time I hear the commercial and they scream "Menards!" I think a British guy just got kicked between the legs.

And now you will, too. You're welcome.

My Pennsylvania Top 10

As the time to move on to my next adventure gets closer, I've had quite a few friends ask me if I'm excited to make the return out East. In a word: Yes!! The hardest part is actually waiting to make the move in mid-June. But that's given me time to plan and plot, and as a result I present you with the

TOP TEN THINGS I'M GOING TO DO WHEN I GET BACK TO PENNSYLVANIA*

10. Go to IKEA
9. Find a coffee shop to write in (you have a lot to live up to, Pennsylvania Coffee Shops. I've become quite fond of my Brewdaily's Cafe, and have written four short films, a short story, and a lot of stand-up there).
8. Speaking of stand-up, find someplace to do that
7. Re-acquaint myself with the train to NYC
6. Have get-togethers of the movie-watching/karaoke/game playing/hanging out kind
5. Film that movie I wrote about a radio station 5 years ago
4. Find the Amish quaint and adorable until I am stuck behind a buggy while I am running late and then remember how much they slow me down
3. Finally get to hang out with people at JTL who weren't there when I was there last, but seem really cool online and in email
2. Hug Fred, Lisa, Stacey, John, Phil, Ann, Strayer, Mindy, Darlene, Trish, Linford, Mel, Tom, Ethan, Aubrey, the Ruoffs, the Grosses, and whoever else I may have forgotten or gets in my way.
1. Smile a lot





*My PA-area friends are more than welcome to join me on any/all of these adventures.

Cast List

Without giving too much away, I'd like to announce a confirmed cast of characters who will be appearing in one of four upcoming short films written and directed by Yours Truly. This of course is not a final cast list and I'm not saying who is appearing in what. I will say that they have been confirmed to appear in one of the following shorts: "The Failures of Ed," "The Heist," "The Coffee Shop," and/or "The Poker Game."

I'll keep you posted. I know I've been going on and on about these projects for some time with very little to show for it, so I'm hoping these random info tidbits will give you a bit of the fix you're jonesin' for.

Current projects cast roster (in alphabetical order)
David Beaman
Sarah Beaman
Alex Blowers
John Blowers
Lisa Blowers
Bob Boxell
Amy Hartman
Ben James
Mindy Lapp
Arni Placencia
Ed Placencia
Ray Placencia
Todd Sattison
Matt Stine

Gettin' Yelled At

Wow. Today I got yelled at. And I mean yelled at. I got yelled at like a man yells at a kid who broke his window with a baseball. I got yelled at by a bald fat white guy with a really hairy back wearing no shirt and a prancing around in a skimpy pair of black shorts. And man, did he yell at me.

Dad and I were painting a house today in a pretty nice neighborhood. We were painting the ceiling in the garage, so we moved the lawn mower and other assorted items out onto the driveway to keep them spatter-free. We went on to paint and at about 2 in the afternoon I went outside to put some stuff in the trash. I was approached by the aforementioned bald shirtless fat white guy with a hairy back and this was our conversation:

NO SHIRT: (already enraged) Hey!

ME: Yea?

NO SHIRT: Did you just mow the lawn?

ME: (confused) No.

NO SHIRT: (pointing to the lawn mower in the driveway) Well, that's out!

ME: Yea. I'm just the painter.

NO SHIRT: (screaming, face turning red) Well whoever mowed the lawn mowed on my property!!! And I am pissed off!! I have professionals in to mow my lawn and if you can't mow on your own property then I'm going to put a flag in the yard and paint a line down the property line!!! I am pissed off!!!

ME: I'm just the painter. I don't know anything about who mows their lawn.

NO SHIRT: Well then you tell them!! They're mowing on my property!!! This is my property!! You have--

And I couldn't help it. I laughed at the man. I didn't just snicker or suppress a giggle. I laughed at him. I laughed right in his face. I didn't do it on purpose. It's just that I was getting yelled at by a fat bald white guy wearing only tiny black shorts and doggonit, that's freakin' funny.

And he wasn't lying, he was pissed. I don't think my laughing at him helped. He stopped talking and just stared at me and I smiled and put my iPod ear buds back in my ears and turned and walked away.

About five minutes later he was out mowing his lawn (and I thought professionals mowed his lawn. Oh well). Every time I would come back out he would glare at me and I would smile because there was an almost-naked fat guy who looked like an Easter egg with a hairy back mowing the lawn.

Can't wait to see him tomorrow.

THE FAILURES OF ED - Production Update

I mentioned a while ago my new project I am working on, a short film entitled The Failures of Ed. It's the first project under my brand new production company and I'll keep you posted as to when it is finished and available for public viewing. Until then I wanted to keep those of you who are interested in the loop and let you know how it is coming along.

* I filmed a scene today with a good friend of mine I grew up with, Amy (Reynolds) Hartman. The scene was shot in downtown Auburn and I chose Amy for the scene because I knew she wouldn't be embarrassed if I made a fool of myself in public in front of her. And I did. We especially enjoyed the looks of people driving by who slowed down to see if I was OK.

* A first for me, this film will feature original music. The theme song was written and performed by singer/songwriter/funny guy Fred McNaughton. He perfectly captured the essence of the film and it's just catchy enough to stick with you for the rest of the week after hearing it.

On a side note, I am also working on a new series of short films titled The Guys. Each one will be about 5-7 minutes long and will feature a different set of guys in each episode in various situations. Casting for all three films is almost complete and I am excited to begin shooting on them as well.

And there you go. Just because I haven't put up a bunch of new films lately (I don't really count the wedding video I did for a friend since it was more of an outsourced job) it doesn't mean the wheels haven't been spinning.

I look forward to revealing the new project soon!

The Power of Forgiveness

What do you think is more important, forgiving someone else or being forgiven yourself? Which one feels better to you, is more comforting? I'm asking this not because I think there's a wrong or right answer; everyone's response is probably a little different. In the past month or so I've been given the chance to be on both ends, and I still haven't decided for myself.

A few years ago I was wronged by someone and never spoke up about it. I lost contact with them and never got the chance to reconnect. I did the stalker thing and tried to Google them and find them on Myspace a few times, with no luck. I never harbored any resentment against them but always kind of wished our friendship hadn't fallen out. A couple of weeks ago he found me here on Myspace. He sent me a message saying the only reason he signed up for an account was so he could contact me and ask for my forgiveness.

It was weird, to tell you the truth. Not because I didn't want to forgive him, or felt I couldn't, but because he was just so upfront and honest about it. That's a pretty rare thing anymore and I know it takes a lot of guts to admit your mistakes. It does for me.

I wrote him back to let him know everything is in the past and I still love him. I haven't heard from him since but it was nice to get some (Oprah-word warning) closure on it all. I don't know if I'll ever hear from him again but it was really good to get his message and know that everything is cool between us.

Perhaps it was his message that prompted to me ask for some forgiveness of my own. I'm not always perfect and don't always treat people the way they deserve (despite what my publicist would have you believe) and I treated one of my friends pretty badly. I'd find myself thinking about it and regret the way I acted. A little over a week ago a did a little message-writing of my own.

I didn't know if she would forgive me or, for that fact, even read the message before deleting it. I didn't know what level, if any, we would be able to restore our friendship to or if she would even want to try. That wasn't why I was doing it. I was doing it because I felt it was important I told her I was wrong and ask her to forgive me. She would have every reason to say no and I wouldn't blame her, but I felt it necessary to let her know.

And she did. She forgave me. We've been chatting a bit again and it's been really nice to be able to have that friendship there. It isn't at the same level it was before, it might never be, but it's good to be able to drop her an IM and say hey. It's very humbling to confess your mistakes, especially to the very person you've hurt, but it's always worth it. Sometimes those relationships can be restored and sometimes they can't. But you never know until you try.

So what do I think feels better: forgiving or forgiveness? I don't know. Based on these two interactions, probably forgiveness. They're both important, but when you ask for forgiveness, you're giving up any and all control. It's not up to you. It's up to them. There's nothing you can do about it and I think there's something really special about that vulnerability. It's not always the most comfortable position to be in, but without it I don't think the whole forgiveness thing is complete.

As Dennis Miller says, of course that's just my opinion. I could be mistaken.

A Fair Representation

There are a bunch of little annoying cartoon ads on MySpace: Escape the monkey. Girl vs Sumo Wrestler. Push a safe and smash the other guy. All of them works of pure genius, I'm sure.

The one that was just on my home page was a cartoon entitled "ARE YOU A HEARTBREAKER?" In it, a goofy cartoon guy in a black leather jacket and greasy dark hair is holding a bouquet of flowers. A sexy girl walks up, unprovoked, and kicks him in the shin. If you put your mouse over the cartoon, she then grabs the bouquet out of his hands and smashes him over the head with it, sending his head spinning like Linda Blair in The Exorcist.

Yeah. I guess that's about how it goes.

Things I Learned in Indiana

As my time in the Hoosier state begins to draw to a close, it's time for me to look back on this last year or so and reflect on what I've learned. This is a ritual I often do when I move from one city to another. It's good to reflect and figure out what, if anything, you've learned in a certain era of your life. If we don't learn anything we often repeat our mistakes and God knows I sure don't want that.

So here are a few things that come to mind when I think of

THINGS I LEARNED WHILE I WAS IN INDIANA

1. Small towns aren't necessarily bad; I'm just not a small-town guy.

2. If you show interest in a girl and your friends warn you that she is ka-razy, they're not just speaking figuratively. Trust me.

3. If you don't stand up for yourself, no one will.

4. You can inherit a lot of things from your parents, both good and bad, but you can also choose what traits and/or habits you do and don't want to carry on in your own life.

5. When you're away from home for 15 years you don't realize when you go back people will be 15 years older than they were when you last left. Sometimes that's a lot, sometimes it's not, depending on the person. Sometimes you're impressed to see how much someone has grown, and sometimes when someone is "all grown up" it's a little depressing if they've grown too much to have fun.

6. If you offer yourself to someone and they don't take you at face value, there's nothing you can do about it. It's on them.

7. I would rather be hurt than hurt someone else.

8. Blood is thicker than water, but friends can sometimes be thicker than blood.

9. Gas prices are way too high.

10. If there's a local coffee shop in your town, swing by there instead of Starbucks. For real.

11. You can find humor in anything. Anything. You really have to look for it sometimes, but it's there.

12. If you're good at something, find a way to do it.

13. If you've wronged someone, talk to them about it. Admit your shortcomings and ask for forgiveness. It's so much better than staying up at night thinking about it.

14. If you're going through a desert, keep walking. The oasis you finally reach will be more than worth it.

Ironic Clothing

Tonight I went to the Goodwill store to browse for new shirts. Have I mentioned this before? I love the Goodwill!!!!

Anyhow, I found a few nifty shirts and one that, as soon as I saw it, I had to have. Especially for just a couple of bucks. I don't know why. Maybe I'll never wear it but I kind of want to just because. Because...well...see for yourself....



Did you catch it? Can you see the awesomeness from this picture? Maybe not. Let's have a closer look at the sleeve.



That's right, jealous people. I now own a Burger King employee shirt!!!!!

Hey Ed, what's for dinner???

I'm glad you asked.

Tonight I enjoyed some Polish sausages. But not just Polish sausages. I fried them in olive oil along with green peppers, onions, and portobello mushroom caps. After a few minutes in went the garlic, red pepper flakes, and balsamic vinegar and OH MY GOODNESS.

I'm so glad I bought enough ingredients to cook it again tomorrow night. So...ladies...you know where I'll be. See you at 8.

The Upside of Anger

I'm so angry right now. I won't even go into it, let's just skip all of the babble and get right to the part where I'm angry. Despite how furious I am, though, I'm not distracted enough to miss the silver lining. I drove over to Dad's place because I knew I could go to him and talk about it and he would be honest enough with me to tell me if I was out of line. I know a lot of people don't have that kind of relationship with anyone, let alone one with their father.

I'm the kind of guy who wants friends to not only share in the good times, but also keep me accountable if I'm not thinking straight. I want them to be honest with me when I ask them, "Is it wrong for me to feel this way? Do I need to put the spotlight on myself here?"

Tonight I realized just how blessed I am to know that I have that kind of friendship with Dad.

Even though I'm still fuming, it's a comforting kind of fume.

Mixed Emotions (with smells)

Yesterday my doorbell rang. I live in an upstairs apartment and looked out my window to see who it was below. There was some scraggly-looking guy with an old bicycle standing out on my porch. I had no idea who he was, I didn't have any money to lend him, I didn't have a phone he could use, and I didn't want to be stabbed, so I didn't answer.

The doorbell rang again. And again. And again. Then the pounding on the front door began. Pound, pound, pound. Ringringringringring. Poundpoundpoundpoundpound. This guy was relentless and finally I was just angry and eager to tell this guy to leave me alone. I was hoping I'd get to fight. I'm not the strongest guy in the world but I can definitely beat up an old hobo.

I ran down and answered the door, interrupting him mid-pound.

"Is your name Ed?"

"Yea," I answered, and immediately I could smell...I don't know...him.

"Is your name Eddie?"

"Yes."

"I found this," and he hands me my old driver's license, Kroger club card, an expired debit card from a closed account, and a membership card to a video store that has since closed. I had left my money clip in my car overnight last summer and the next morning it was gone. Or at least I thought I had. Knowing me, I was never sure if I just misplaced it. Turns out someone did indeed snatch it from out of my center console where I left it.

"Oh, thanks," I said, trying to sound grateful, but I don't think it was convincing. I noticed the money clip itself and the $10 that was clipped to it were gone.

"I didn't find a wallet," he said.

"Yeah, they were just in a money clip."

"I didn't find a money clip. I found them in my yard."

And that explained the weird smell. I live on a pretty nice block, as evidenced by the picture below. Nothing fancy, but a cute little street. But, like in The 'Burbs, there's one house that doesn't fit in. This particular house is right next door and is actually a little rundown camper. I always wondered what kind of person lived in that camper and now I knew. The stereotype I had in my mind was dead on.

Apparently someone took my money clip, grabbed the cash and clip itself, and then threw the rest over the fence into this guy's yard.

A couple of hours after my stuff was returned to me I noticed my apartment reeked. You guessed it. I don't know how long this guy had my useless cards in his place, but it was long enough for them to absorb the smell of his house (camper) and pass it on to other innocent households. My belongings didn't have the smell of sitting outside in the weather; this smell was 100% man-made.

I threw everything away and lit some incense. I guess I should be more grateful to the guy but the whole thing left me with more questions than before. When he asked if I was Ed I told him yes, and then he asked if I was Eddie and I said yes again. But nothing on any of my cards says "Eddie." Why would he ask if I was Eddie? And just how long did he have my stuff? What was he doing with it?

It seems all very suspicious to me. I'm glad I'm moving soon.

The Death of a Killer

In April of 1984 my grandfather Juan Placencia was brutally murdered. Three boys attacked him at his home in the early hours of the morning. After stabbing him repeatedly they proceeded to rob him of $130 cash and a TV they later sold for 20 bucks. According to the testimony of his attackers, my grandfather spent the entire time pleading for his life.

One of the boys, who served as the "lookout", was sentenced to 10 years in prison and was released after two. The second boy, who did the actual robbing, was sentenced to 50 years and will be eligible for parole in (I believe) 2 years.

The man who did the actual stabbing, David Leon Woods, was sentenced to death and has spent the last 22 years appealing the verdict. This most recent time around Woods' attorney argued that it is illegal to execute someone who is mentally retarded in the state of Indiana and Woods has decided to claim he is mentally retarded. Woods also claimed that lethal injection is "cruel and unusual" punishment and should not be carried out.

You know what's cruel and unusual? Stabbing a man 22 times in the face, back, and neck. You've spent the last 23 years trying to cheat death. And you barely gave my grandfather 20 minutes.

Naturally, a couple of days ago the Supreme Court denied Woods' appeal and their statements about him falsely claiming mental deficiency were almost humorous. This was his last chance to appeal. The Supreme Court has declared Woods be put to death before sunrise on May 4, 2007.

Ask everyone in my family how they feel about the judgment and you won't get any two identical answers. Some have forgiven. Some have publicly vowed never to forgive. Some have admitted my grandfather wasn't a perfect man. Others claim he was anything but.

Woods' death won't bring back Grandpa. I don't believe his death will make me feel any better. But I will be glad when all of this is over.

It's easy to cling to the past and cling to anger and hopefully the execution of David Woods will help some people loosen that grip. When you hold on so tightly to hate and revenge, you don't have any free hands to grasp for hope and peace of mind.

The Big News

It's very rare you find a job you not only love doing, but also love the people you work with. It's also pretty rare to get a chance to do what you've always dreamed of and, again, love the people you get to do chase that dream with.

Even rarer than both of those situations, though, is getting the chance to do it again. Both of them.

I worked at WJTL in Lancaster PA for about three years and have stayed in touch with just about everyone there since I left back in '92. A lot of places claim to promote a family environment but very few deliver. JTL is one of those places and when I got a call from Fred, the station manager at WJTL a few weeks ago, I was more than a little excited. Fred told me about a position he felt would be right up my alley. In a nutshell, they are looking for someone to do audio production, video production, and helping with their website. Of course I was excited because all of those are things I love doing. I mean come on! Web, audio, and video? Count me in!! It wasn't 100% certain but Fred assured me it was 99% sure and would let me know as soon as everything was finalized.

Today Fred let me know. It's official and I'm officially stoked. I have been offered the job and I have accepted. I promised a friend of mine I would DJ her wedding here in Indiana so I will be leaving for Pennsylvania immediately afterward, putting me back in Amish paradise in mid-June.

I'm really excited not only to be doing what I love to do but also to be near some very dear friends whom I consider my family.

But wait! There's more!

If you've read my blogs you know I can't shut up about how much I loved being in New York City and performing at the National Comedy Theatre, an improv theater in Manhattan. It's a passion of mine I've chased for quite some time and the people there are very talented and dear to my heart. Well...Lancaster is only a 3-hour train ride away from New York City. Three hours!!! I have an iPod, so that's nothing..that's like 2 episodes of Saturday Night Live and a Ricky Gervais podcast!

That's right, baby! Not only will I be able to work at a place and with people I already know I love, but I'll be able to go up to New York on weekends and perform at a place and with people I already know I love.

Oh yea...and I'll only be about 45 minutes away from an IKEA.

Sometimes God is much better to me than I deserve.

A "Helpful" Rhyme

Today I drove past the fire department and they had a sign out front that read

GET OUT QUICK IF THE SMOKE IS THICK

I guess they're trying to be cute and rhyme and everything but I think an even more effective sign, and wiser advice, would be

IF YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE THEN GET OUT

I mean, otherwise it'd be like "I know my kitchen is engulfed in flames but you know what? There's really not much smoke. I think I'll stay put. Besides, I can't be bothered if the smoke isn't thick. I have laundry to fold."

An Excuse for Pizza

The Papa John's delivery girl is cute. That's all.

I'm just saying.

No, No, NO!!

When I woke up this morning, a fishing show was ending on ESPN. After the final credits rolled, a bumper came on proclaiming ESPN the "home of every sport." Um....

FISHING IS NOT A SPORT!!!!

There are a lot of "sports" out there that really push using the term, but there is nothing you can say to convince me fishing is a sport. It's not. Fishing isn't a sport. In my book, in order for something to be a sport it must take a little bit of skill and sometimes even a little bit of sweat.

Sure, you don't sweat when you play darts, but it does require skill. You don't sweat in poker, but at least you're playing against someone else. In fishing, you have no opponent except whether or not a fish actually happens to swim by.

It's the only "sport" where it's not even guaranteed you'll play. There's no chance of me showing up at a golf course and being told there are no holes. I'll never spend an afternoon playing basketball and walk away frustrated because the hoops didn't decide to show up. If you can spend an entire day with no assurance you'll even get to do the activity, then it's not a sport. Fishing is a hobby, but it's not a sport any more than gardening or scrapbooking.

It comes down to this simple rule: It's not a sport if it can be done from a plastic chair with a built-in beer holder.

It just isn't.

Up with Whitey. And Men.

This blog may seem a little disjointed and for good reason. I am still in a state of shock and can't believe what I went through and witnessed last night. One of the only things worse than seeing a major injustice is the feeling of utter helplessness in knowing there is nothing you can do about it.

My dad, as some of you know, is a former boxer and Golden Gloves champion. He started boxing as a young teen and had his last fight in 1976. He has been a boxing coach ever since and all said has about 50 years experience in the arena. He has a real love for the sport, knows what it taught him in life, and when you see him working with kids you can tell how much he loves sharing that passion. Dad is a father figure to a lot of guys who grew up in less-than-stable households and because Dad let them know they can do anything they want if they put their mind to it, they grew up to achieve successes they may never have attained otherwise: Upstanding fathers and husbands. Lawyers with integrity. Exemplary political figures. Even a NASA engineer.

So last night when Dad and a fighter of his experienced an incredible amount of racism and prejudice while trying to be involved in a sport that has done so much to improve not only his life, but the lives of others, it really rocked his world. It was hard to watch.

Dad has been training a young female boxer named Jessica for a couple of years. Even before I moved back into the area I felt like I knew her whole history because many times when we would talk on the phone Dad would tell me about her and, not only was she a great athlete, but she was a great kid with a big heart. When I moved back into town last year and went down to the club for a few months to train I got to meet Jess and Dad was right. She's a great fighter, a really hard worker, and...well...just a good person. She's the kind of kid (I say kid, but she's a freshman in college) with such a sweet disposition you automatically want to take her under your wing and protect her like she was your little sister.

She works harder and is more dedicated than anyone, male or female, I've seen in a long time. Dad is hoping to get her accepted into the training for the female Olympic boxing team this summer. The hard thing about it, though, is the lack of female boxers in the area. They have a really hard time finding matches for her. It's really hard for Jess because she loves the sport so much yet is often met with frustration when she travels out of town to a fight only to find out her opponent didn't show up or had to back out for some other reason. It's not unlike that feeling of disappointment the Griswolds felt when their family drove across country to go to the Wally World theme park only to find out it was closed.

Dad got a call from a boxing guy in Michigan a few weeks ago who said he had someone who would box Jessica at an amateur show just outside Detroit. Dad and Jess were both very excited about it and when Dad asked if he could borrow my video camera to tape the fight for Jess I volunteered to go along and film. I had never seen Jess fight in an actual bout before and was excited to go along.

On the three-hour drive up there you could sense how excited Jess was. It'd been almost a year since she had a fight and she was chomping at the bit. When you haven't done something you love for so long, and then get an opportunity to do it again, the adrenaline rush leading up to the actual event is exhilarating and that's definitely where Jess was at.

The fight was being held at the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB in ROCHESTER, MICHIGAN. Let's all remember that name. The GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB. Now you know where to send your letters.

We got there and were greeted by a friendly guy at the door, probably a high school or college student, and inside were two friendly girls about the same age who pointed us in the right direction. We got Jess weighed in and had about an hour and a half to spare. We asked what time we needed to be back as we wanted to go and grab a bite to eat and left to get some sustenance.

Upon returning to the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB we saw the parking lot was filled. They had signs up in the lobby advertising "Fight Night!" that included "amateur boxing, fine dining, and fine cigars." Tickets to this event, by the way, were $80 apiece. This is an amateur fight. None of the boxers or boxing clubs represented were getting paid. They were all there just to participate in a sport they loved. In fact, the only people who were probably getting any money were the people who brought the boxing ring. So the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB really got themselves a deal, to say the least.

Upon our return we met Rene, the guy who was promoting and putting together the fight. He seemed like a really nice guy despite looking a little frazzled. He showed us the waiting area, which was a small room off the main lobby. And when I say a small room, that's exactly what it is. Dad and Jess went down the hall so Jess could see the doctor for her pre-fight physical and I stayed behind with our stuff. I sort of drifted toward the wall in the lobby to be out of the way and Rene told me that GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB wanted everyone inside the room; no one could be in the lobby. I didn't think anything of it, as I understood it to be a holding room for fighters and their coaches.

Inside the approximately 12' x 17' room were maybe 10 or 12 chairs and 50-60 people. There were boxers and coaches, yes, and there were also people who had come to watch their families fight, mostly wives and children. It was a unique atmosphere to say the least only because there were a lot of people in a very small room, a lot of boxers, but it was pretty quiet. Everyone was being very respectful of their surroundings, this wasn't a sweaty gym somewhere, and I was impressed to say the least.

One of the two double doors leading into the room was standing open and a few minutes after being in there a woman came to the room, glared at everyone inside and said (direct quote here), "You need to keep this door closed. We don't want our members to see you." Then she shut the door as if we were a bunch of kids who had been sent to our rooms and had been caught sneaking out. No, scratch that...she shut the door more like we were a bunch of people who weren't white and had trespassed onto the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB property.

You would think that when you live in a community so close to Detroit and want to have a boxing show, you're going to expect a few brown people to walk through your door. Of the people in the room, it was probably 10% white, 30% hispanic, and 60% black.

No one said anything. There was no call to riot, no questioning or backtalk. We all just accepted that those were the rules, weird as they may seem, and everyone went back to what they were doing, which was either talking quietly or putting on hand wraps. A few people came up to me, introduced themselves, and I got to meet some really nice folks. That's one thing about the boxing community. As violent as some people think it is as a sport, the people involved in it are some of the friendliest, most humble, and most polite people you'll ever meet.

Soon some people came in from out in the lobby, more than likely returning from seeing the doctor. The doors of the room are the kind that stay propped open automatically and have to be pulled shut and after a few minutes the door to the room was found open again. Not because someone defiantly opened the door, but because people were going in and out of it on their way to and from their physicals.

From outside I heard the Dragon Lady yelling at someone. "You have to get in the room!" There was a pause as whoever she was yelling at responded, but they were using a hushed tone and I couldn't hear what was said. Again the lady yelled, "Just get in the room!"

Soon after a young black man came into the room. He walked over to his friends and said "Did you hear her yell at me? I told her I was just coming back from the bathroom and she yelled at me to get back in the room." This guy didn't have any attitude at all in his voice, he was just talking to his friends like he was telling them what he had for breakfast.

I honestly couldn't believe what I was seeing. You always hear about discrimination at country clubs but I never really gave it much thought. I actually figured it was just people blowing things out of proportion and here I was, seeing it for myself.

A few minutes later the Dragon Lady returned to the room and yelled at no one, "I need you to keep this door closed! We don't want our members to see you people!" I remember finding it ironic that everyone talked to her in polite and hushed tones as if they were in a library, and she talked by yelling. And she worked for the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB. Shouldn't she be the polite one and the rest of us riff-raff be the ones who are loud and obnoxious?

Rene then entered the room and shut the door. He announced that no one was allowed to go in and watch the fights except for the fighters themselves and the coaches. No wives. No children. They were all to stay in the room. I could see the frustration on Rene's face as he said this; I've never gone to a boxing show where this has been the case. He explained this wasn't the rules of the boxing association but something the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB had just told him. He also expressed this was the last time he would be working with the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB in ROCHESTER, MICHIGAN.

You can imagine the disappointment in the room upon hearing this news. Not only could their wives and children not stand in the back of the event room and watch them fight, they had to stay in this cramped little space during the entire course of events. But no one said anything. No backtalk. No sass. No "are you kidding me's." I think everyone was slowly starting to accept that it was what it was.

Dad and Jess finally returned from the doctor and as Dad started to wrap Jess's hands and I filled him in on what had been going on. A few minutes before the fights were to begin Rene stepped in the room and called Dad's name. This is it! I thought to myself, Here we go! Then Rene said he wanted to talk to Dad and Jess. I waited back in the room.

A few minutes later Dad came in and said, "There's no fight." Everyone in the room froze and looked at Dad. I hadn't seen Dad ever look so defeated before in my life.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"They aren't going to let Jess fight because they said it would offend their members."

I said it without even thinking. "Would it offend their members if I went out there and punched them in the neck?"

Dad grabbed his boxing duffel bag and coat. "They're not letting the girls fight because they said "They're girls.""

Dad said, "They won't even let us stay and watch the fights. We have to leave."

"Wow," I said, "I've never been kicked out of a country club before."

You could feel the disbelief and shock as it settled on everyone in the room. Jess came in the room and I could see she was trying hard not to cry. One of the other coaches said, "If they're not letting your girl fight, then none of my guys are fighting."

Another coach agreed. "They've treated everyone here really disrespectfully, and that's not right. If they're not going to let everyone fight, then none of my guys are fighting either." Boxers around the room began nodding their heads in silent agreement.

These things weren't said in a dramatic, loud, call-to-arms tone of voice. Despite what everyone had gone through and how everyone had been treated, everyone was still talking quietly and appropriately. I couldn't get over how impressed I was.

And what really impressed me was Rene's response. I expected, "Now, now, now, let's not get out of hand here, there's still going to be a show." Instead, Rene simply stated, "I know. If you want to leave, you can leave. Maybe we should all leave. I'll never work with these people again."

Dad, Jess, and I left but not before I caught a glimpse of a few guys taking off their wraps and shoes. I also remember seeing the young guy and girls who greeted us at the Country Club when we first arrived. They were still smiling, but their smiles were no longer genuine, as if they just realized exactly where they were working.

I wanted to stay behind to see what happened, to see how many people actually left, all three of us did, but we had a three-hour drive ahead of us and Dad wanted to get on the road.

In the truck I asked Dad what happened when he was called out of the room. Rene told Dad They're not going to let any girls fight. They said it would offend their members. Dad told me, "I couldn't believe he actually said that.It's so wrong."

While they were in the lobby talking to Rene one of the boxers came from the bathroom in his boxing trunks and shoes with no shirt on...like what boxers wear. A man (the Dragon Lady's counterpart, I assume) yelled at the kid to "Get in the room! This is a family environment! There are children here!" (I pointed out to Dad that the only children I saw in the place were the kids of the boxers they had cooped up in the waiting room.)

Dad said he'd never seen Jess so angry before. Jess asked the man if he was the one that said she couldn't fight. The man said he was. Jess asked why and Dad said this guy got a look on his face like no woman had ever dared to ask him that question before. And that's probably true.

He told Jess, "Because you people won't keep that door closed, you're coming in and out, and it's chaos in here!"

"That's not my fault. Don't punish the girls for that."

The man walked up to Jess, pointed his finger in her face, and said, "It IS your fault."

"Why won't you let us box?" Jess pleaded again and his answer was cut and dry.

"Because you're girls."

He turned and stormed away and Jess called out after him, "Haven't you ever heard of women's boxing?"

I don't know what happened after we left the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB. In my mind I see all of the boxers refusing to stand for it and walking out. Their employees, offended by the bias they have observed, quit their jobs. The precious "members", who paid 80 bucks a ticket, demand their money back and the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB takes a big loss.

In reality, that's probably not what happened. I'm sure some of the boxers stayed behind. I'm sure there were some fights. Maybe not as many as they had planned on, but the people got their show and smoked their cigars. And I'm also pretty sure none of the members had any idea any of this occurred.

It's all about the Members, isn't it? Protect the members.

Dad was in a state of shock during the drive home. It broke my heart. And when I saw Jess in tears I could feel my heart bleed. All she could say over and over again was "I've never been told I couldn't do something because I was a girl." I told her it wasn't fair and they weren't right. It wasn't. And they weren't.

I'm not naive. I've been around the block a time or two. I know there is injustice in the world, much of it unprovoked and uncalled for. And I guess I've just learned to put up with it. But the first time someone is exposed to it, the first time they realize some stereotypes are true...to actually witness the moment when someone's innocence is shattered...that hurts like nothing I've ever experienced.

Jess's voice trembled as she said it. "I hope that guy doesn't have any daughters. If he does, I feel really bad for them."

Dad and I did, too.

Recycled Paper

Yesterday Dad took me out for breakfast. When we came in we saw a lady there who said hello to us and she looked really familiar. I wanted to ask Dad who she was, but it's a small place and it was really quiet in there; she was sitting at the table right next to us. I grabbed a pen and scribbled on the paper placemat, "Who is she? Looks familiar."

I passed the pen to Dad and he jotted down the answer. I still didn't know who it was and I scribbled out our writings. We ate our breakfast without further incident and went on our way.

This morning we got together for breakfast again at the same place and grabbed the same table. We sat down, I looked at the table, and you guessed it: exact same placemat, as evidenced by our notations from yesterday.

I'm still not sure how to feel about this. The placemat wasn't dirty or anything but at the same time...it was the same placemat. It made me wonder what else they might be recycling.

Kiss Me, Apparently I'm Irish

One of my stand-up jokes talks about my ethnicity and how people sometimes have a hard time guessing that I am Mexican, American Indian, German, and Dutch just by looking at me. Well, I can now add Irish to the list.

I actually found out a couple of months ago when Mom told me we have a big bunch of Irish ancestors on her side of the family. How did I not know this? Why did she wait until I was 36 years old to tell me? Why was this kept from me?

This explains so much: my love of Celtic music, my fondness for the guys in the bands The Electrics and Ceili Rain, the red hairs that pop up in my beard when I don't shave, and of course my horrible horrible binge drinking (as if the Mexican/American Indian/and German heritage didn't already explain that).

So Happy St. Patrick's Day, me!