KenThinks.com The ramblings of a man named Ken... Thanksgiving, To Me Thanksgiving is, without a doubt, my favorite day of the year. Does it mean getting together with friends and family? Nope. Does it entail me going somewhere with lots of great food? Not at all. Is... http://www.kenthinks.com/blog/111606.html 2007-11-21T12:52:02Z 2007-11-21T12:52:02Z
Thanksgiving is, without a doubt, my favorite day of the year. Does it mean getting together with friends and family? Nope. Does it entail me going somewhere with lots of great food? Not at all. Is it a day I spend with anyone special in my life? Hell no. Then what makes it my favorite day of the year? Because it is the one day of the year that I reserve entirely for me.

Every Thanksgiving I simply disappear from the world. I turn off my cellphone. I don't get online. I don't answer the door and I damn sure don't leave my home. It is truly heaven on earth.

I start the day by actually sleeping in (to me, sleeping in is anything past 7:30 a.m.) and getting out of bed whenever. I'll head downstairs, make myself breakfast, and then bask in the absolute silence that is Thanksgiving. There are only two mornings each year that provide such a lifeless serenity -- Thanksgiving and Christmas morning. God, I'm getting excited just thinking about it. Anyway, after breakfast I'll open up the window and just listen to the quiet for a little bit before truly beginning my day...and what, to me, makes Thanksgiving my favorite day of the entire year.

I have only two tasks before me every fourth Thursday in November: firstly, I have to watch the ultimate collection of Christmas movies/shows and secondly, I have to put up my Christmas decorations. The movies and shows? "Miracle on 34th Street" (the original, not that crap remake from the '90s), "A Christmas Story", "It's A Wonderful Life", "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation", "How the Grinch Stole Christmas", and "The Year Without Santa Claus". God, this day alone puts me into the Christmas spirit like nobody's business.

Why the hell do I spend Thanksgiving like this? Well, it all began back in 1990 when Scoot and I shared an apartment during college. I woke up early the morning of Thanksgiving feeling awful. Little did I know that a case of the flu was going to redefine my life so much. I ended up staying home alone that day, curled up on the couch, watching Christmas movies. After spending the entire day alone without any contact with the outside world (aside from when I called my Mom to tell her that I wouldn't be at Thanksgiving dinner), I realized just how truly calm and refreshed I was after that day. I decided then and there that I was going to do that every year from here on out. Sure, I've had several years when I was unable to have my Thanksgiving...but for the most part, this is the exact routine I follow each and every Thanksgiving.

Throughout the entire year, I look forward to Thanksgiving with the same intensity that a child does in anticipation of Christmas. All my worries go away. I have no troubles nor a care in the world about anyone or anything...that day is entirely mine and mine alone.

Sounds pretty weird, huh? Not to me, my friend...not to me. Come on, Thanksgiving! I can hardly wait.


Back to the blog archive...

Posted By: outlawman (David Parre - Prairie Village, KS) on Nov 17, 2006 at 18:08:27

Totally understand. That describes mine to a tee more often than not. I prefer total aloneness (is that a word?) as well for the same reasons. Total personal indulgence. That's a Thanksgiving.THANKS for GIVING me this day.
We truly are twin sons of different mothers.


Posted By: andeegirl (andee weinfurt - Weston, MO) on Nov 18, 2006 at 23:53:38

Everyone needs a day alone to get in the spirit. But for me, I love the fact that my husband's favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. He loves it because it's all about family being together...without presents involved. No obligation; just fun. That's in the spirit, too.
Enjoy your Thanksgiving!
(But does your mom mind you not being there?)


Posted By: ken ( Kansas City, MO) on Nov 19, 2006 at 12:37:46

Does Mom mind me not being there...not any more. Back when I first started doing it, yes. One of the times I was guilted into going was when my brother Doug was in town from Texas meaning that the entire family went -- I'm glad I did as it was the last Thanksgiving before Dad passed away.

Other than that, the family knows that I'm "weird" and fully understands that it's my day. This day, in their mind, ranks more highly than my birthday for its specialness to me.


Posted By: duder ( Kansas City, MO) on Nov 20, 2006 at 03:28:05

So what do you eat? Beans and sauce? Boston Market? Mac and Cheese? Just curious since the best part of T-day is the food and I know you don't cook much other than the above.


Posted By: cathyg (Cathy Goodwin - Seattle, WA) on Nov 21, 2007 at 12:52:02

I couldn't agree more! I envy your ability to hold firm. I have some friends who would be deeply offended if I didn't show up. Once I wrote an article on this topic. Lots of readers wrote in to say, "We agree."
http://www.copy-cat-copywriting.com/single.html
]]> Johnny Carson, The Father of Our Comedy October 22nd, 2006 No other person influenced more comics than Johnny. On the afternoon of January 23rd, 2005, I was was waiting for some water to boil while making lunch for my kids when I decided... http://www.kenthinks.com/people/johnny_carson.html 2007-11-06T06:50:46Z 2007-11-06T06:50:46Z

No other person influenced more comics than Johnny.
On the afternoon of January 23rd, 2005, I was was waiting for some water to boil while making lunch for my kids when I decided to check my email. Out of habit, I hit reload on my browser to check the top news stories of the day when I saw a headline that hit me like a ton of bricks...

Johnny Carson had passed away.

I remember gasping and telling the kids, who had never seen Johnny in action, that he had passed away. It was then that I felt the wetness welling up in my eyes. Only one other celebrity's passing before -- Carroll O'Connor -- had brought me to tears. As I wiped away the tears and headed back into the kitchen, my then 5-year old inevitably asked me who Johnny Carson was. Rather than trying to explain to her and my then 13-year old son, I showed them.

Bringing out The Ultimate Johnny Carson Collection on DVD, I began to fear that I'd be unable to give these two a glimpse of the reason why I was so moved at hearing about Johnny's passing. After all, the man hadn't been behind the desk of The Tonight Show since my son was less than a year old. But during that brief moment of doubt, I'd forgotten what had endeared Johnny to me and millions of others across several generations -- his simple, gentle, perfectly timed comedic genius.

I hadn't had the DVD in for more than a couple of minutes before all three of us were laughing. Be it a visit from animal trainer Jack Hannah that went awry or Johnny's self-deprecating humor when he bombed a joke in his opening monologue, Carson's smoothness and charm behind the microphone proved to me that his appeal is timeless.

The passing of "The King of Late Night" brought emotional outpourings from some of the biggest names in entertainment, most notably the countless comedians who owed their entire careers to Carson. David Letterman, who I feel should have been Carson's Tonight Show successor rather than humorless Jay Leno, had the priviledge of still receiving jokes from Johnny to be used in Letterman's opening monologue right up to the time of Carson's death.

The last time people had cried at Johnny's expense came during his retirement from the show he had captained for thirty years. Bidding farewell on May 22, 1992, Carson left us with this teary gem:


When Johnny signed off that night, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. TV knew that it was losing a living legend...and Johnny rode off into the sunset, rarely granting interviews and even declined to participate in NBC's 75th anniversary celebration.

One of my all-time favorite Carson moments came after he had retired from The Tonight Show and made an impromptu guest appearance on The Late Show with David Letterman in May, 1994. After having told the audience that Carson would be delivering the top ten list that night, Late Show regular Larry "Bud" Melman appeared and read the list, much to the audience's chagrin. Dave brought it to everyone's attention that the card he'd been given didn't have the appropriate top ten list on it and called off-stage for Carson to bring it to him. No one, including myself, expected the real Johnny Carson to step onto the stage but someone dressed up like Carson instead...but Johnny came out. The audience went nuts, leaping to their feet to deliver a standing ovation. Letterman himself abdicated his chair, which Johnny quickly filled. It was apparent to anyone watching that Johnny was truly home. He went to open his mouth, paused, and then shook his head "no" before playfully getting up, waving to the audience, and walked off the stage to thunderous applause. The fact that Johnny could walk out on stage, not say a single word, and still command that kind of a response was a true testament to how well-loved he was by everyone.

Two days before he passed away, I purchased two index cards with Johnny's autograph on them for a steal. Dissecting a People Magazine tribute booklet, I created a poster-sized piece with 24 individually cut and matted images from Carson's career. The focal point? His autograph, placed beneath a picture of Johnny seated at his desk, wiping away a tear caused by laughter. The piece now hangs in my office at work.

This is the way I'll forever remember Johnny Carson...laughing, joking, and making millions smile.

Thank you, Johnny. ]]> The Torch Is Passed In the winter of 1981, I found myself in the back of my parents' station wagon during a blizzard. My sister's husband was driving while my Mom was riding shot gun. Amidst all the snow that was... http://www.kenthinks.com/blog/112106.html 2007-11-06T06:46:49Z 2007-11-06T06:46:49Z
In the winter of 1981, I found myself in the back of my parents' station wagon during a blizzard. My sister's husband was driving while my Mom was riding shot gun. Amidst all the snow that was dumping itself onto Kansas City at the time and our car was skidding left and right as it slowly inched its way home, I hadn't a care in the world. And why was that? I had just attended my first Harlem Globetrotter's game.

It's been quite a few years since that night when I drifted off into a peaceful sleep in the back of the old battle wagon as we drove home from Kemper Arena. I've since seen the Trotters a half dozen times and each time I still feel like I'm a little boy seeing them for the first time. There's just something truly magical about the team, the players, and the experience overall. Sure, they run the same routine they've performed decade after decade but each and every time I'm still riveted. I can't help myself.

Growing up in the '70s, the Harlem Globetrotters were the team. Whenever they appeared on ABC's "Wide World of Sports", all the kids in my neighborhood would gather around the tube and marvel at the team's basketball skills. I had a special connection to the team that no one else in my neighborhood could claim -- my oldest brother Matt roomed with Gator Rivers, a Harlem Globetrotter, while he was attending college. During one trip home to visit the family, Matt passed on the trick of being able to spin the basketball on his finger to me after Gator had taught it to him. Years later I met Gator Rivers and told him the tale of how I learned to spin the ball on my finger. To this day, I still have the basketball he signed for me at home in a case.

When my son turned seven, I took him to see the Globetrotters live for the first time. At the time I was seeing a woman named Janell and, being so excited about getting to see the Globetrotters again, I remember having to stop walking so quickly to let them catch up to me. Can you tell that I was pretty anxious to get to my seat? I honestly couldn't tell you who was more thrilled with the game after it was over -- me or Alex.

Having never really been impressed with anything related to sports, I was ecstatic to see Alex wanting to go down to meet the players and get their autographs. I bought him an official Globetrotters ball and off we went to fetch some signatures from his favorite players. It was at that moment that I made a promise to myself: I would take Alex to sit courtside every year from here on out until he figured out that they did the same routine. That lasted for five wonderful years.

This January, I get to begin the tradition anew. My daughter Gwen is now seven years old and has officially been passed the torch from her big brother. Alex and I recently began telling her about the Globetrotters and I think it's safe to say that Gwen is definitely intrigued. Alex told her tales of guys making baskets behind their back at mid-court...and he knew from experience from sitting right in front of the guy as he made it, which was true. I told her about Michael Wilson, the player that held the world's record for the highest slam dunk (which was around 12 feet at the time). We both remained mum about the confetti bucket. I want to see her reaction to it when it happens.

The one thing that I truly love about going to see the games is that these guys are truly ambassadors of good will...and they bring smiles to tens of thousands of people every single year. One particular incident at the last game I attended brought tears to my eyes.

It's not a secret that I'm a big sap. Well, during the game one of the Trotters came rushing out onto the court while pushing the wheelchair of a kid with cerebral palsy. The referree immediately blew the whistle and played along, telling the Trotters that only players were allowed on the floor. The Trotters stood in unision and told the ref that he was the newest member, promising to prove it. They then scurried and returned with a Globetrotter jersey and shoes, which they promptly slipped onto the kid. The ref stomped his feet and said that anyone could wear the team uniform but the kid had to prove that he was a player. That's when one of the Trotters took the ball, began spinning in on his finger, took the tiny finger of this small boy, and placed the ball on it. It kept spinning. Steadying the kid's hand, the Globetrotter helped the ball keep going for a while as the audience exploded. The look on this little boy's face was priceless...at that very moment, he was having an experience that he will remember, his parents will remember, and the audience will remember for the rest of their lives. Hell, I'm tearing up now just thinking about it. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to take a picture of the moment and still get a little misty eyed whenever I come across it in the photo album. That moment was pure magic.

I cannot wait until the game in January. I hope that Gwen enjoys it...I have a sneaking feeling that she will. When else does someone get to spend two hours in the presence of a multitude of big hearted magicians?


Back to the blog archive... ]]> Best Christmas Gift EVER! With Christmas fastly approaching, my mind has been reliving memories from holidays past. Whenever someone asks me about my favorite Christmas or tells me to name the best gift I ever received, I... http://www.kenthinks.com/blog/120706.html 2007-10-08T12:42:29Z 2007-10-08T12:42:29Z
With Christmas fastly approaching, my mind has been reliving memories from holidays past. Whenever someone asks me about my favorite Christmas or tells me to name the best gift I ever received, I have no problems whatsoever answering that one -- it was the year that I received my Muppet drum set.

I couldn't have been much older than six or seven that Christmas. I remember being stretched out on our living room couch watching the odd patterns being cast upon the wall and ceiling behind the flickering lights from our Christmas tree. Mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner while Dad was finishing up work and preparing to come join us. There was next to no light outside that evening, the only sounds I could hear were the occasional tapping of a big spoon on the side of a pot Mom was using, and the unmistakable smell of spiced Christmas candles were present. In short, I was in absolute heaven and dozed off for a little nap.

When I awoke, I noticed a gigantic box next to the tree. This mammoth package was so large that it had to be leaned against the wall. I rubbed my eyes, leapt from the couch, and rejoiced when I saw that the name read "To: Kenny, From: Santa."

What could it be?!? And how on earth did it get here undetected? I asked Mom and she told me, with a wink, that "Santa" had brought it while I was napping. Now I had debunked the myth of Santa Claus when I was five so I knew that Mom and Dad had hooked me up with something pretty sweet and there was no way that I was going to allow that package to remain unopened before Christmas.

As I grew older I became a master at unwrapping packages to discover what they were, wrapping them back up undetected so that Mom and Dad didn't know I'd peeked. This particular Christmas, however, was back when I wouldn't even have considered such a dastardly deed.

My family had a deal while I was growing up -- we opened up all our Christmas packages on the morning of the 25th but we could each open one gift of our choosing on Christmas Eve after we went to church. Yep, having been raised a Catholic we got our yearly Christmas service out of the way on the night before...and it always seemed to drag on for an eternity. The service that particular Christmas seemed to last longer than any I can recall. My mind was 110% focused on opening that huge box once I made it home. It was no secret that I was dying to get my hands on that package as I practically lived by the damn thing every waking moment of the day leading up to the 24th. I'd color next to it, eat next to it, watch TV next to it, and spend countless hours shaking or lifting it, trying to figure out what fantastic surprise lied beneath the red and green wrapping paper.

When we pulled up at our house after mass, I didn't even bother waiting for the car to come to a complete halt. As I could hear my Dad shouting at me to never, ever do that again I raced up to the front door with hardly a foot touching the snow covered ground. Once to the door I realized that the damn thing was locked, and pulled on it in a state of mind that if I continued to tug on the handle that somehow the door would magically open. It didn't. Mom walked up and then unlocked the door. Eleven steps later I was standing before the largest Christmas gift ever placed beneath a tree for me. Five seconds later I had the paper off and was in awe of what would be the greatest Christmas gift I've ever received.

My folks helped me put it together and within ten minutes I'd already been banned from playing the damn thing past seven o'clock at night. I...was...stoked. Crashing the cymbals with one stick while pounding away on the snare with the other, I was creating what was easily some of the worst rhythms ever played by a child on a drum set but to me it was incredible. I played -- and sang! -- Jim Croce's "Bad Bad Leroy Brown" over and over much to the dismay of my entire family. Few times in my life have I ever been happier than I was that night.

As with any other Christmas gift, the excitement wore off...but with the Muppet drum set, the thrill lasted for well over a year. I never did learn to play the drums worth a damn but I felt like Buddy Rich whenever I sat down to wield the sticks. And who wouldn't play like a pro on a drum set with Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem on the bass drum?!? I mean, come on.

I remember the day I hit the snare so hard while rocking out that I put a stick through it, breaking the drum head. No amount of duct tape could bring back the "pure" sound I'd grown so used to while playing. Inevitably I cut a deal with my folks to let me play after seven o'clock as long as I carted the drum set out to the shed in the backyard where we kept the lawn mower. It was in there that I busted through the bass drum. I knew then that the Muppet drum set was on its last legs.

After that, my most beloved gift remained dormant in the tool shed. I lost one of the drum sticks. The winter approached and time spent out there just wasn't as comfortable any longer. Spider webs were spun across the cymbals. Eventually, I played my last beat on the set.

I don't remember it being thrown away at all. Somehow I must have blocked that from my memory, which is surprising. I can easily recall, though, how much utter joy I received from that damn thing. The picture of it above is from a Polaroid my Mom took on Christmas morning and is the only photo that doesn't have me beaming behind it. I keep that photo in my master bathroom and look at it every morning with a grin.

That present will always be THE greatest gift I've ever received as there is simply nothing on this earth that could top the feeling of outright euphoria I experienced leading up to opening it...and then the outright joy I had once I knew what it was.

Thanks, Mom and Dad...you nailed it.

What was your greatest Christmas gift ever?


Back to the blog archive...

Posted By: scooterj (Scott Murdock - Kansas City, MO) on Jan 16, 2007 at 10:19:05

Ken widda lack of new posts in over a month.


Posted By: smanley ( kansas city, MO) on Jan 27, 2007 at 10:38:49

as much as I love this post, please put a little something new up... surely you have SOMETHING you could talk about...


Posted By: smanley ( kansas city, MO) on Feb 06, 2007 at 16:40:50

Now I am just starting to get pissed!


Posted By: braveheart on Oct 08, 2007 at 12:42:29

I have this drum face, in good condition, sitting right beides me. do you think it would or if it would be worht anything if someone was trying to sell it? c_bugaboo@hotmail.com
]]> A murder of crows. A gaggle of gigglers. Every Wednesday night I take my kids out to dinner. We alternate who gets to choose on a weekly basis using our silly mnemonic device "Egad!" The "e" stands for "eat" while the remaining letters... http://www.kenthinks.com/blog/083106.html 2007-10-05T13:47:40Z 2007-10-05T13:47:40Z
Every Wednesday night I take my kids out to dinner. We alternate who gets to choose on a weekly basis using our silly mnemonic device "Egad!" The "e" stands for "eat" while the remaining letters represent each of us in the order we get to choose: Gwen, Alex, and Dad. Tonight was a "d" night and I wanted to pick a place that was close where we were (I picked Gwen up from her half-sister's "Back to School" ice cream social in Overland Park) and there it was -- Bob Evans.

If not for Gwen and Alex, I would have easily been the youngest customer in the entire establishment. I've always enjoyed the company of older people, having been raised by parents that were both thirty-nine years old when I was born. Seeing the faces of the other customers light up as Alex took off his jacket to drape around his little sister who a mere moment before had said that she was cold was priceless. I even heard one older man say to his wife "Did you see that? Chivalry isn't dead." Attaboy, Alex! Grandpa Dan would have been proud.

While we enjoyed our dinner, Gwen produced some slips of paper from her pocket and challenged us to a game of trivia. The lil' squares of paper she had were various groupings of animals and what those groups were called. You know, a pod of whales or a murder of crows. When I was growing up, I absolutely loved learning those screwy names and trying to figure out how a group of apes came to be called a "shrewdness" of apes. Mind boggling.

So there we boys were, trying to figure out the various names for groupings of animals from Gwen's cards -- and failing miserably, might I add -- when I got the idea to use the browser on my cell phone to find a site that contained a whole slew of those types of terms. Bingo, I found the motherlode.

Before long, our table was riddled with laughter as I read aloud the zaniest groupings I could dig up. A flutter of butterflies. A rookery of penguins. A troop of chimpanzees. A coalition of cheetas. A flight of doves. An array of eels. An army of frogs. The list goes on and on.

If there's one thing that I've always tried to instill in my kids, it's that learning can be fun if you turn it into a game. That's why I was so glad when Gwen initially challenged us to name the various groups from her cards but also rewarded us with the card if we got it right. Naturally, though, we had to give the cards back after the game was complete or else we would be subject to incessant hoo-ing, compliments of a parliament of owls. Okay, not really...but I had to throw one more grouping in there.

As the waiter came by to take away our plates, I tore off a corner of the paper placement and created my own card to add to Gwen's series of animal groupings: "a flush of toilets." This card was greeted with the stink eye and a grimace from Gwen until Alex began lauging about it. There mere thought of a contractor that would be installing several toilets in a home and using the "proper" term -- that I'd just concocted, of course -- for a grouping of them cracked me up. Soon, Alex and Gwen got into the act and we were tearing squares of paper from our placemat and feverishly writing our own grouping terms.

Highlights include:

A pick of noses.
A tickle of toes.
A dripping of bacon.
A middle of fingers.
A chump of chumps.
A flat of tires.
A bucket of chum.
A sniff of roses.
A bust of rhymes.
A wipe of bums.
A chew of gum.
A stank of skunks.
A friend of no one.
An apartment of homeless.
A bucket of chicken.
A stupid of $50 (One of Gwen's four contributions -- she's only seven, she'll get there).
A dumb of fickle-fongers (Gwen's second addition).
A dumb of Alex (Gwen's third submission).
A bossiness of Gwen (Alex's retort to Gwen's previous entry).
A dumpster of butter (See? Told you that Gwen would eventually get into the groove!).

Now somewhere in the middle of this frenzied formation of fellowships, I penned what became the favorite of the evening:

A lot of crap.

Ahh, yes. At that point, I had gone from the third youngest customer in the place to the least mature...but damn that was funny at the time. Gwen kept repeating it and giggling for the rest of the evening. Alex was in near tears. I, myself, became pretty tickled at that one for no apparent reason other than my kids were laughing and enjoying everything about our evening together.

Knowing them, and knowing that their memories are in the same vein as mine, they'll remember tonight's dinner in a positive light. I'd bet you anything that the next time we're together we'll play this game again. I'd even be willing to go as far as to say that years from now we'll still be joking about "the night at Bob Evan's when we made up funny names for groups of things."

That's what I love about these Wednesday night dinners with my kids. Sure, the time we have together is short, but you really can make the best of any moment if you really want to...and we three proved that point tonight in a quiet little corner of a Bob Evan's restaurant. We were definitely a gaggle of gigglers. ]]> Octoberfe$t: 31 Days of Gambling September 26th, 2007 That's right, chumps...Parre and I are going to suit up and give Octoberfe$t another run. After last year's debacle I thought about hanging it up but I've had an itch to gamble... http://www.kenthinks.com/random/octoberfest_2007.html 2007-10-01T21:18:55Z 2007-10-01T21:18:55Z
That's right, chumps...Parre and I are going to suit up and give Octoberfe$t another run. After last year's debacle I thought about hanging it up but I've had an itch to gamble for a while and am certainly due.

Here's how it works: every single day I will head up to the Ameristar Casino. Armed with $100, I hit the blackjack tables and gamble until one of two things happens -- I either turn the hundred into $300 or I lose it all. If I lose three days in a row, that's it. I lasted a mere seven days last year, winning only on the 2nd and 4th. The rest of the days were complete busts including the final one, in which I was knocked out in seven minutes. The only person known to come back from a beating like that is Rocky Balboa. Perhaps Parre will act as my Mickey.

Below is the chart of how I'm doing: