Take a ride...

The bikes prowled in packs, their fiery exhaust tips spitting intermittent pops and crackles as they rolled up and down Hot Springs’ Central Avenue last Saturday night. There were Harley Softails, Kawasakis, Moto Guzzis, Honda Nighthawks, BMWs and even an old Triumph that had been lovingly restored for cruise night.

Old men with graying beards slouched low on these gilded iron horses as their “biker babes,” saddled behind, held on tight between red lights. They wore bandanas of every color, some red, others black with skull and bones emblazoned on them, and yards and yards of leather.

The bikes were lucky to hit 30 miles per hour on the crowded street, but you don’t really need to blaze past if you want to be seen. And that’s what it’s all about on Central — being seen.

Near bathhouse row, a crowd of tourists crooked their necks to see the steel-and-chrome-laden bikes as they roamed, probably for the 10th time, in front of Hot Springs’ most historic landmarks.

“It’s so loud!” screamed one child to his mother.

“That’s awesome,” said older boy as he gazed at the bikes with obvious envy.

It was 11 p.m. The magic show I’d been in had just let out, so I decided to stroll Central Avenue with some friends from my college days. We were on foot, just as dozens of others who came to see and be seen.

If you’re on the sidewalk on Central, you came to see; if you want to be seen, you’re out there on the pavement with your bike or your “blinged out” car.

And there were plenty of both that night.

It reminded me of the famous cruising scenes from one of the best car movies ever made: “American Graffiti.”

If you haven’t seen it, here’s a short synopsis.

The movie opens with Bill Haley and his Comets belting out “Rock Around the Clock,” capturing the imagination by taking viewers back to a time when fast cars and good times were all that concerned America’s youth. The year? 1962. The place? Southern California, the incubator for beautiful girls, boss cars and warm summer nights.

The opening depicts the kind of night that makes everyone want to be a teenager again. School’s out, the local drive-in restaurant is filling up, and the radio is blaring out hit rock songs from rock and roll’s heyday.

And cruisin’ is all anyone wants to do.

That’s the way it was last Saturday night in Hot Springs. Even though motorcycles took up much of the space on Central, there were more than a fair share of tricked out rides — both cars and trucks.

I even saw a mini van, yes a mini van, that had 22-inch wheels and a bass system that jolted the insides of anyone within 300 yards. But the best car of the night had to be the 1967 bright red Mustang convertible. It kept circling, as if to say, “Look at me, I’m Boss, and you can’t touch this, baby.”

If you’ve seen American Graffiti, it took the place of the White Thunderbird, although Suzanne Somers wasn’t driving that little red ’stang (she drove the T-bird in the movie for those of you who haven’t seen it). It was an older couple, who no doubt were reliving the glory days when cruising was the thing to do on Saturday nights.

For a few hours at least, it still is the cool thing to do in Hot Springs on Saturday nights. And it’s an awesome thing to see.

Take time to remember

I had the pleasure of meeting several local veterans Monday afternoon at a reception held in their honor. Every time I talk with veterans it refreshes my opinion that these men and women deserve every “thank you” that we can give them.

Most of the veterans I met served in World War II and are part of “The Greatest Generation,” a title given to them in Tom Brokaw’s book that shares that same name.

Sadly, these American heroes are rapidly declining in health and numbers, so it’s important that we, the younger generation,
hear their stories and experiences about America’s most difficult time.

My generation has often been accused of not remembering the veterans who made the United States the most powerful country in the world; I for one would like to change that perception.

I propose that we take this upcoming Memorial Day and use it for more than just a day off to grill hamburgers and hot dogs. If you know a veteran, and most of us do, or if you have one in your family, take a few minutes to thank them for their service to this country.

On behalf of my generation, I want to say a special thanks to the veterans of World War II. We appreciate, more than you know, the fact that you stormed the shores of Normandy, fought the Germans and helped defeat one of the worst enemies of freedom that has ever walked the Earth.

We are also appreciative that you spent the entire winter of 1944 — one of the coldest in 50 years — outdoors, in the German mud, guns at the ready. We can’t begin to imagine the hellish situation you faced there, and we pray to God that we never will. We vow to take this Memorial Day to remember the fallen, along with those who are still here to tell their stories.

Also, to the veterans of Vietnam, the Korean War and the Gulf War parts one and two, we say thanks. Even though many of us do not agree with the current war, I can assure you we do support our troops and value their service to this country.

Politics aside, these are men and women, brothers and sisters, mothers, fathers, aunts and uncles — they are Americans, just like us, who hold regular jobs back at home but and are momentarily caught up in a political crisis.

We should look past politics for a moment to remember those who died for this country, as well as our living veterans and current soldiers. Hopefully, everyone will take time this Memorial Day to do just that.

Make your vote count

I hope everyone is gearing up for election day this Novemeber. Over the next few weeks, I plan to introduce you to candidates I feel will best fill their respective positions.

Today, I'll talk about Mac Campbell, the democratic candidate for Arkansas State Treasurer. I met Campbell the other day when he came by the newspaper office for an interview. He seems like a genuine guy who is sincerely interested in preserving the integrity of Arkansas' money.

For one, he didn't have that phony, cheesy smirk that most politicians flash when they want votes. And his hand didn't leave that greasy film that most politicians seem to excrete.

I was particularly impressed with the fact that he wants to enroll all children in the college savings program known as the 529. It allows tax deferred savings and is a great program. Unfortunately, many people don't even know it exists. Campbell hopes to change that.

Also, he has worked closely with finances while serving under Sen. Blanche Lincoln. He knows the in's and out's of politics and how money works. Visit his Web site for more information.

BREAKING NEWS

HOLLYWOOD — Press Pass has just learned that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, affectionately known as "TomCat" by their adoring fans, are pregnant once again. This is the first of many children expected by TomCat, as Cruise announced that he has become an "afterbirth addict" since eating Holmes' placenta from the birth of Suri, the couple's first child.

"I just can't get enough of it," Cruise said outside of the Paris Mission Impossible III premiere. "It's just so great, and I feel so close to Katie and the baby, and oh my God, I mean, oh my L. Ron Hubbard, it makes me feel so much closer to Scientology, too. My goal is to keep Katie seeded up with my children forever."

This announcement had many TomKat fans buzzing, as they can't imagine how they'll be able to afford the dozens of People Magazine covers that will appear after each baby's birth.

Susan James, TomKat's self-described "number one fan," said she would go so far as to kill someone to get the first glimpse of Suri or any other baby the couple has. "Me and my girlfriends have TomKat chat parties, and we log on and look for photos of Suri," said James. "I know that someone out there has a photo, and I'm gonna find it."

Cruise and Holmes have been reluctant to reveal Suri's photo to the public, and hundreds of photographers around the world are scrambling to be the first to snap the infant's mugshot. Once they do, the appetites of fans like James will be whetted momentarily.

"I just want to see one photo of little Suri," said James. "Just one. Is that too much to ask!"

Cruise hasn't announced any official word on the sex of his new baby, only saying that, "We couldn't be happier. If it's a boy, I'm naming him 'L.'"

***Please note that this is satire, of course.

Getting it right

This article ran a week ago in the News-Times. But through human and technological errors there was a massive mistake. The second two paragraphs were left completely out, so I wanted to publish it as it should have appeared. So, here it is.

By JOHN WORTHEN
News-Times Staff
Jerry and Betty Bauman have driven to Houston so many times that they’ve worn out two vehicles and have grown to hate the sight of green mile marker signs.

But it isn’t a love of America’s fourth largest city that has drawn this El Dorado couple there over the years — it’s where Jerry Bauman, 69, received a life-saving heart transplant more than a decade ago.

Just 50 percent of heart transplant patients survive 10 years after their transplants, said Dr. William R. Wilson, a heart surgeon at the Medical Center of South Arkansas, making Jerry’s case a true success story. A vast array of complications can contribute to a low post-transplant life expectancy, Wilson said.

“The major problems we see with heart transplant patients is the risk of infections,” he said. “Most transplant patients do well after one year, and 90 percent survive that first year. But there is always a risk of rejection.”

Further risks come from powerful anti-rejection medications like Cyclosporine and Prednisone that can damage vital organs
if used too long. Jerry, a retired El Dorado firefighter, is on a minimal dose of anti-rejection medications today, as his doctors have weaned him off over the years.

Unlike most transplant patients, Jerry didn’t know he even needed a new heart until his second bypass surgery in 1995. He traveled to Houston’s Methodist Hospital to have the routine procedure, thinking it would mean just a few hours in the operating room and a short recovery stay.

But when doctors tried to restart his heart after the surgery, nothing happened. Immediately, Jerry was hooked up to a life-saving heart-lung machine; his name was put at the top of the transplant list several days later with hopes a heart could be immediately located.

The wait was agonizing, and every day Jerry remained on the heart-lung machine meant he was one day closer to death. Patients tethered to heart-lung machines for several days typically develop brain damage and other complications.

After 11 days on the machine, doctors predicted that even if they found a heart, Jerry would end up in a vegetative state.
Jerry had other plans, though. Just four days after appearing on the transplant list, a heart was found and successfully transplanted, allowing him to begin the long road to recovery.

“The Lord really provided for him,” said Betty Bauman, Jerry’s wife of 49 years. “His case was very unusual in that he got (a new heart) so quickly. And they tell us when we go back to the hospital that he is the sickest person they ever doctored who lived.”

Jerry’s new heart came from an 18-year-old Asian male who had been killed in a drive-by shooting during Jerry’s hospital stay. The victim’s heart matched Jerry’s chest cavity to the millimeter, and the blood types matched perfectly as well.
Jerry believes the timing of the match was an act of God.

“There is no doubt in my mind that this is God’s work,” Jerry said. “There could have been 50 hearts out there and none of them fit me, but they found this one so quick. It was a perfect match.”

After the transplant, Jerry had to learn to live his life over again — he couldn’t walk or talk, and everything that had been second nature to him was now foreign. He began a physical therapy regime that literally took him step by step through his recovery. Jerry’s goal was simple: Walk one step farther than the day before until he could walk normally again.

And just one year later he was at an Arkansas Razorback game, standing in the bleachers calling the Hogs. Jerry also resumed work around his home, mowing his lawn, raking leaves and fishing just about every day.

“He really is a miracle,” Betty said, smiling. “He is so active today and does just about whatever he wants to do. It really is a miracle.”

This week the Baumans are visiting Houston again so doctors can monitor Jerry’s body for rejection, which could happen at any time. But Jerry doesn’t spend time questioning how long he will live, he just considers himself “blessed by God” and is thankful to be alive today.

“The reason I’m sitting here today is the power of prayer,” he said. “And I feel great.”
In 2004, more than 2,000 heart transplants were performed in the United States, according to the American Heart Association’s latest statistics.

In the United States, 72.6 percent of heart transplant patients are male, 70.4 percent are white and 20 percent are between the ages of 35 and 49. Forty-six percent are between the ages of 50 and 64.

Fast food meltdown

“May I take your order?” the mumbled voice behind the menu says.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll have a number two with a large Diet Coke,” I say, coolly.

“That’s a number five with a large Mt. Dew?”

“Um. No. I want a numberrrr twoooo with a larrrrge Dieeeet Cooooke!”

“A number two with a coke?”

“LARGE. DIET. COKE!”

“[Inaudible...] forward please.”

That’s a recent experience at a fast food restaurant’s drive through window — we’ve all had them. But hasn’t our technology advanced far enough to change the way we order at fast food places? You’d think by now a computer would tally orders at the menu screen and all the person at the window would have to do is take your money and give you your order.

But no. We’re still stuck with the mumbled voice box that screeches and crackles and gives us the number five when we really want the number two.

Many drive-throughs now feature those little computer screens that show you what you ordered, and they are supposed to help the people inside get the orders straight when the little voice boxes are mumbled. The only problem is that someone keeps busting them and etching the words “King size this” across their mangled, shattered faces.

Another option is to abandon the voice box all together and have someone walk out of the little door behind the restaurant to take our orders. Now that would be a nice touch, wouldn’t it? And it would be a lot more pleasant than telling a speaker box what you want for lunch. They could punch the orders into a handheld computer device, which in turn would relay orders to the kitchen and drive-through window. How hard would that be?

Another problem I have with fast food places is that they are never as advertised. Have you seen those juicy, delicious, mouthwatering burgers on television and on the menu? Wow, those things look good don’t they?
But where can I buy one?

Not at the restaurants, apparently. Sure, sometimes you get something that looks almost as good as advertised, but that’s not good enough for me. I want my lettuce to be green and crispy, my tomato to be plump and juicy and my onions to glisten like they are fresh from the garden.

Well, that’s the way they look on TV isn’t it? It’s only fair they look that way when you purchase them.
One time I ordered a burger and said I only wanted mustard on it, and that’s just what they gave me. I got a bun, meat and mustard. I thought the person who made that burger should have gotten the literal person of the year award.

I know some of you are saying, “Come on, it’s just fast food, what do you expect?” And you have a point. I know these workers have it tough, with minimum wage and long hours on their feet. I do take my hat off to them, truly.

And most of them do a great job. But there are some that need a little work on their people skills. I’ll bet you’ve dealt with someone at the drive through window who never smiled. I actually had someone completely ignore me during my two minute stay at the window. Her blank face was almost too much for me, and I thought a couple of times about screaming, “Hello! Do you see me here?”

Maybe she was too busy eating those great looking burgers that appear on TV to talk to me.

Couldn't resist posting this

What can you say? It's Jersey

The search is on, again. New Jersey thought it had picked the perfect motto in "Come See for Yourself," problem is, other states are using it too. So the good folks in Jersey scrapped it and are once again looking for a state motto.

But really, does "Come See for Yourself" fit in with that Jersey state of mind? Jersey is the raw state that's home to Springsteen, hardcore gambling and lots and lots of organized crime.

I say the new motto should be "Bada Bing!" Why not? After all, the state is the fictional home of the Sopranos crime family, and Tony's club, Bada Bing!, is one of the show's central locations.

How cool would that be, rolling into Jersey and being greeted by a big sign that says, "Welcome to Jersey, Bada Bing!"

But, in light of today's sad political correctness, I doubt that will ever happen. It's been suggested in the past but was shot down by the powers that be. Brooklyn already has a pretty cool sign fastened to the Brooklyn Bridge that says, "Leaving Brooklyn, Oy Vey!"

I think more states and cities should adopt colloquialisms for street and highway signage. In Arkansas, we could have big red interstate signs in the shape of a Razorback emblazoned with "Pig Sooee!" Think I'm kidding? I think it would be awesome.

For now, I'm beginning my campaign for Jersey's "Bada Bing!" I'm drafting my letter to the guv of that state in hopes that he will agree with me and adopt the new slogan. Think my letter will have any impact on his decision? Fuhgeddaboudit!

Pimpin' my ride

So I'm thinking of re-covering the seats of my Silverado in leather, right? I look in the phonebook under "Upholstery" and found a couple places that sound OK. Actually, there are only two places in town — I'm in El Dorado, remember?

Anyway, I call Paul's Upholstery shop.

Paul: "This is Paul." A large voice, obviously from a black man, thundered through my phone.

Me: "Hey, Paul, I've got a job if you are willing to take it."

Paul: "What's the job?"

Me: "I want my truck seats re-covered in leather, how much will it cost?"

Paul: "Uh...I'll have to see it."

Me: "OK, I'll bring it over."

So I go over to see Paul, but the thing is, Paul's shop is in the Ghetto. And I'm a white boy in a black truck. And black people like my truck, for some reason, so I'm thinking that I'll either get car jacked or...something.

I pass by the shop, thinking it was out of business at first, but then realizing it was just a really, really rundown place. So I circled the block. Bad idea.

Four large black guys sitting on the hood of a beat up Regal stared me down, sipping their Colt 45's. Sounds like a cliche I know, but it's true. I eased on by, pretending not to look at them, knowing they were thinking I wanted to buy some crack or tap their ho's.

Up ahead, I saw even more black men in the roadway. I decided it would be best if I made the quickest exit possible, and I whipped around the corner and got back on the main street. Now, I wasn't scared, really, I just didn't want to take any chances. That's it. No chances for me, not in a bad part of town in what looks like a new truck (it's a 2004) but it does look brand new.

I finally made it to Pauls today, and he told me it'd be $400 to cover my seats in leather. Not bad, I'd say. But I'm a little afraid to leave my ride in that part of town for the day. I'll let you know how it goes.

Cinco De What?

Hundreds of thousands of Americans celebrate Cinco De Mayo every year. Bars have Cinco De Mayo specials and restaurants offer free tacos. But do these people really know what they are celebrating?

Of course not! They only want the two-for-one margaritas.

Cinco De Mayo commemorates the Battle of Puebla, which was fought May 5, 1862. In this battle, Mexican forces, led by General Ignacio Zaragoza, fought off French expeditionary forces.

So, as Americans, what are we celebrating? A Mexican victory. Hmm. Do Mexicans celebrate the Fourth of July in Mexico? Not likely. So why do we acknowledge Cinco De Mayo?

Actually, I would have been rooting for the French in that battle. Maybe if they had won they would have taken care of their population. And then, maybe we wouldn't have millions of illegals in our country from Mexico. Just something to think about while you munch down on that salsa and slurp on your margarita.

Happy Cinco De Mayo!