A couple of days ago, I found a 99.99% perfect condition pair of 1950's metal street roller skates. Unbelievable condition. Time capsule condition. I bought them. I had to. They're what I had as a kid.

Two problems: 1) they didn't have the skate key (so I'm in the process of digging one up via the web), and two, I'll no doubt take a fall that will 1) remind me I ain't eight years old anymore, and 2) break a part of me I need.

Yet, I persist.

I LOVED roller skating. I skated outdoors Spring, Summer, and Fall of northern Indiana, and during Winter on the cement floor of our home's basement. I took my skates off if I was bicycling (although it COULD be managed), tree climbing, hiking in the woods, or building a tree fort. Oh, and when I slept.

During my skate key search, this came up (and I did NOT pursue its link):

"Hip-hop brings new life to gospel roller-skating"

Yikes. I don't even want to know.

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I don't know about where YOU live, but around here there is a door-to-door sales Cult weirder than most.

I don't know what the parent company is (Sun Myung Moon? Amway?), but they apparently drive bus-fulls of sales hikers into a town, and drop them off, where they spread out like oil on water. No joke, I get 2 or 3 or 4 of these oily characters a week.

They look a lot like Mormon-missionaries-sans-bikes, and are either 1) loaded on Ecstasy or 2) Promises from a God. Smeared with smiles and bodily gestures intended to make you feel safe and glad to see them, these clowns walk into my shop all perky with a black canvas suitcase or backpack full of...well, I don't know, because they never get that far with me... but I'm sure it's full of Chinese Veg-O-Matics, pheromone sprays, and little gifts for a brain-dead loved one.

So, when they walk in, before their spiels kick into gear (once they start, they are incapable of stopping), I say "I only buy antiques. Sorry." Most turn around. They know which side of their bread isn't buttered, but today I got a double Ecstasy dude, who, even once shot down, wanted to "high five" me...

What?

Yeh, Hi-5. What for? I have NO clue.

KIDS: Just say "NO!" to Those Promises on High.

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My wife went out of town again. She'll be gone until Monday. Family reunion in West Virginia. Six hour drive to get out of Virginia. One way. Asks too much of my back and patience.

I've attended two. Things you can count on at these reunions:

1) Lots of women chatting near their potato salads.

2) All the old men playing horse shoes all day.

My family didn't and doesn't have reunions. It's a small family anyhow, and it was split down the middle in 1985, with half the family jumping out of the tree and taking their fruit home in a huff.

As things stand, we could have a reunion (with any of those who would WANT a reunion) in my old Ford van, and still have the whole back for low-yardage games of horse shoes.

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This afternoon (Saturday) is dragging something awful. It's Memorial Day weekend, and everyone is on the road headed towards their own Tater Salad Fest. Not me. I'm here in case someone is not inclined to getting loopy on iced tea.

I'm-a-gittin' kinda hongry fer sum o' them vittles...

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All day I'm playing old rock and roll devoted to CARS. Lots of it is Rockabilly - when cars REALLY meant something to a teen. I mean REALLY.

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I watched a contemporary Japanese film last night that was surprisingly Existential: "Nobody Knows". Strong film.

Due to circumstances (that are explained), two brothers and two sisters are expected to exist inside an apartment - remain quiet, stay out of view, and never exit. They have no Father, and their Mother disappears for extended periods of time.

YOU share time with the young children.

NO Existential film is built on action or punch lines. Don't expect any such thing. This genre is built on small and large moments given equal attention, without judgement, and with no apparent moral lessons.

If anyone is STILL interested, this IS a good one, and worth renting.

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Finally, don't forget what MEMORIAL DAY IS. It's NOT about picnics. It's about our freedom to gather when and where we want. Give a moment of thanks to those who helped keep that possible.