Photo, Vince Kern -- Copyright 2008 -- All Rights Reserved. ---------- At the Cave' du Vinman and SheRock during a monster storm last winter.

REALITY-CHECK VIBE (Pinckney, MI) — What me complain? Come on now, admit it, some of you are going out today and not diggin’ the humidity. Well, I’ll admit it if you won’t

On the way out to check out the flowers, toss negative karma toward the moles that insist on inhabiting my lawn and to check the progress of my year-old tree named John, I bitched about the humidity. Not a loud or cursive bitch, just a meek “agh.”

“But really”, I immediately chastised myself, “what have you got to complain about, dude? A little humidity?”

“Man up!” I told myself. “It could be January.”

When I returned to our air-conditioned cave and began sorting my photos from our recent trip to Osage, MN, I found this little creative photo I took last year in the midst of some really unwelcome weather.

Back to reality folks.

Wherever you’re at today, don’t complain about the weather. Make a conscious effort to roll with it and enjoy it. Then expand that effort to all the other ankle-biting stuff around you. If you have to deal with the big stuff, you’ll have more energy.

You might just feel blessed in these tough times if you do this.

Just sayin’. (Don’t know why, just led to.)

And that’s the reality-check Vibe for today.

(Stay tuned for some more updates of recent thoughts and adventures. Vibes have been a-brewin’.)

Squaw Beach, outside of Big Bay, 25 miles north of Marquette. Photo, Vince Kern. Copyright 2008 -- All Rights Reserved.

Just past noon on this Friday in early June, the regulars at the Hungry Hollow Cafe’ next to Cramm’s General Store in Big Bay, Michigan are coming to life as the sun finally appears on an otherwise blustery day. Omelettes are still being served as folks start a bit later up here, and I’ve just polished off a dandy sausage and cheese.

A large local man with grey hair and a nice smile depsite a missing tooth orders a huge salad. In familiar farmer-blue overalls, a blue tee-shirt and suspenders he seems to be here every time I visit.

“It’s nice out,” he tells Chris the server smiling from under an earthy-colored bandanna. Chris agrees and brings me more coffee as I recall the standards for “nice weather” I maintained when I lived in Marquette. Back then, 58 cloudy and near-drizzly days did, indeed, make one feel like walking.

I feel happy for the lumberjack and the weather changes to on and off sunshine faster than my comparisons mattered.

Another local blonde woman sits chatting with Chris at the diner bar about her husband’s work and crazy truck drivers bringing logs through here this week. And behind me, two men I have not seen yet sit chatting about the weekend and reminding each other about attending “Aggie’s birthday party at 2 o’clock Saturday.”

Aggie is our neighbor and dear friend on Squaw Beach who visits from town in the summer. At age 89 tomorrow, her son Pete may agree to let her “retire” from her cabin duties but I wouldn’t bet on it. Peter Tenyke is a local man who covers a lot of territory. He is fire chief, county employee and overall goodwill ambassador for this small town of about 550 located 25 miles north of Marquette. He knows full well Aggie will never stop being busy and only teases her with a life of leisure.

On our section of the beach there’s work to do. My sister Andrea, brother-in-law Jim and I arrived yesterday to buckle down for some cleaning and R&R in between. So far, we’re off to a slow, but good start. But I wish our other sister brother and my lovely wife, Sheila, could be here too.

And so it goes up here, folks will arrive from several states throughout the day but won’t overwhelm the peacefully-removed-spirit of this area. We’ll watch the weather to see how things develop, looking for glorious beach sun or stars at night.

No matter, there’s an uplifting sameness to seeing my smiling well-fed breakfast friend, the lumberjack, write a check for his meal while the chef sits at the bar and chats with regulars. The men behind me have decided on pie and so that’s my que to go.

Otherwise, I will turn a thousand-plus calorie breakfast into a pie-laden napping afternoon instead of working. Hmmmmmm…….

And we call this a working trip up  north…………..

–30–

Want to know why people outside of Pittsburgh dislike Sidney Crosby as a player?

At game’s end last night, as the Detroit Red Wings were lining up to congratulate their goaltender, Crosby was the last Penguin to skate by on his way to the bench. His behaviour and his summary of it speaks volumes: “He (Kirk Maltby) was doing what he always does, giving guys lip service,” Crosby said. “And you know, I two-handed him on top of the foot as we were skating by. He felt it was necessary to keep talking after the game, and I thought I’d whack him, and that was it.”

In case you missed it, you can check out the video here: http://tinyurl.com/mmxsqz

Lest you think this is merely home-boy-blind Red Wing vitriol here, I have to say I really admire Crosby as a person and hope he turns out to be one of the premier players in the history — not just this era — of the NHL. His talent, energy and love of the game are second to none.

But I think he was put in the position of carrying (and being a leader of) a franchise too early in his career. Talent, desire and passion do not miraculously imbue wisdom. And playing for Pittsburgh, he did not have experienced leaders around him every day.

Instead, Crosby had to pick up the mantle of the team and carry it on his speedy shoulders. And he did that admirably. In one of the first games I saw him play, former Detroit defenseman Darren Hatcher was shadowing Crosby as a Philadelphia Flyer. Hatcher, about a foot taller and a foot meaner, was hacking Crosby every chance he got. At every turn, there was Hatcher gooning it up but Crosby knew it was a pivotal experience in his young career on a losing team. For 60 minutes, he gave back as good as he got and at one point dropped his gloves and went toe-to-toe with Hatcher.

Statement he made that night by his actions:“Throw your best goonery at me and I can handle it. I’m Sidney Crosby and I’m not going to give an inch.”

Time goes on and he is crowned the King of the NHL by Bettman et., all. And both Crosby and the Penguins mature in their winning percentage to challenge Detroit for a second year in a row for the Stanley Cup.

Detroit has surprised every opponent in these playoffs by their clean, tough physical play. They took cross-checks to the back of the head regularly against the Ducks who could not rile them. They endured the same against the Black Hawks, who paid with penalties and last night’s start against Pittsburgh was no different.

Crosby’s attempted hit on Zettererg at center ice was a high elbow to the head. Cook charged in from the face off circle after the whistle to deliver the same. I can live with those and so can the Red Wings.

But Crosby’s whack at Maltby — and then escape behind the refs — shows how young men without leaders like Lidstrom, Yzerman, Osgood et., all do not mature enough to do their reputations justice.

Statement he made last night by his actions: “I remain petulant and in need of more flavoring to attain the spice of leadership.”

I’d like to say it’s not Crosby’s fault. That he’s been stuck in a tough situation with a growing team.

So, I will.

But Crosby needs to realize that his shenanigans such as those toward Maltby last night are an indicator of how far he has to go to be in the same league as classy NHLers over the years even if Maltby was handing out lip-service.

I sincerely hope he gets there, just as long as it’s sometime after June.

– 30 –

Comment: Dude, there’s a typo in that…wil instead of win?

Vinman: Yep, sure is thanks…..takes a lot of wil to win the Stanley Cup

Hockey is not for the meek, and Nick Kronwall’s body check on Marty Havlat last night deserves some more fact-finding than coaches and players offering their opinions. It is important for the NHL to publicly define exactly why this was not an illegal hit for its fans who may only see the result of the check (of which no one is happy).

And they should do it soon before bad blood spills over in the name of righteous retribution.

Let me say I am a peace-loving man. Always have been, always will be. But at times in my lengthy amateur hockey career that spanned from age 6 to 46, there have been times that challenged that precept. It’s a game of incredible speed and reflex, players skating at speeds up to 60 MPH, pucks flying almost double that at times and it is as intense team focus as it gets.

Naturally, one team will (view the hit at http://tinyurl.com/pa6kqy ) interpret intention and rules differently depending upon which bench they sit. But it really boils down to this:

1) Did Kronwall leave his feet?

2) Was the puck near enough to Havlat to be considered he was “playing it?”

3) Was it an intentional hit to the head?

Surely, fans will differ for a long time to come on this one. Personally, I have no problem with the penalty that was assessed, but only because it is difficult for the referees to make perfect calls and they may well have been attempting to keep the game (and the Hawks retaliation toward Kronwall) under control.

The game itself was not marred by this play, it was Original Six NHL hockey at its best. Detroit and Chicago have reestablished a wonderful hockey rivalry that has been missing for decades. As they say, one picture is worth a thousand words.

All rights reserved -- Vince Kern -- Copyright 2009

The blessings of Detroit Tiger baseball on a late-May afternoon in perfect sunshine and 85-degree perfection.

Does anything else really need to be said?

– 30 –

Everything is getting a shower today; the lilac tree, flowers and grass, bird houses and driveways drip nutritious drops of H2O.

Light showers of rain are splashing on deck puddles like a million water bugs on a lake-top. It’s not a constant shower, it rains heavier for a bit, quiets the birds then lightens up to tease them into venturing forth for food again. But after a few highs and lows, my feathered friends have measured its pace and are only slightly quieted by an increase in the shower’s intensity.

One of these days,
I’m gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I’ve known
And I’m gonna try
And thank them all
for the good times together.
Though so apart we’ve grown.

The gutters spill onto an aluminum awning outside my window with a waterfall cadence and sound. The cats sleep, lulled by the natural music as I am. They do what they do, as do I, because our souls beckon sleep and writing alike.

Yesterday, I exchanged pleasantries and hopes for “a good weekend of weather” with numerous colleagues on elevators and as we passed in hallways. We smile at each other for encouragement and hope together in these difficult times — surely sunshine, warmth and blue skies are the preferred combination in the atmospheric concoction abrewin’ . For an instant, tasks to be completed in the golden sunshine slotted themselves in our heads in perfect order to be retrieved later.

Instead, we are blessed with spring showers to slow us down, to make us listen and to help us look inward while nature orchestrates sounds so perfect musicians strive to echo them. We might have gotten the stormy brew that’s passed north of us for now, but we got what we needed.

I am alone, left to write for awhile. It is my way of harmonizing with the vibe as we all orbit the sun together at 18.5 miles per second. We travel in locations that differ in climate, topography and relative distance. But viewed from across the galaxy, we are near to each other than our human perception of molecules in a rain drop.

From down in L.A.
All the way to Nashville,
From New York City
To my Canadian prairie home
My friends are scattered
Like leaves from an old maple.
Some are weak, some are strong.

Last week, my 81-year old father and I were sitting in his home office discussing current and personal events alike. 

“I’ve always said what this generation needed is a good depression to make people realize what’s really important.” he said. And then he told me about how his family had so much love with so little money. And, once again, he was right.

And I’m gonna thank,
That old country fiddler
And all those rough boys
Who play that rock ‘n’ roll
I never tried to burn any bridges
Though I know I let some good things go.

So much of what we “have” is only in ourselves and others. So much of what is really important gets lost too easily in the daily struggle to survive our human conditions whatever they may be. Facebook and other social networking technologies have given my generation a new way to reconnect and learn how each other is doing on a deeper level that we had in the past. And, in turn, we receonnect with our childhood muses, our formative friends’ muses and channel joy and creativity we might have otherwise hurdled in the high-jump of activity.

We are so much alike that we can connect in a community and encourage, learn and share together in a relative instant and it’s a new muscle working the strength of our spirits. Friends, relatives, causes all need support and we can provide it for each other.

So on it goes, this Saturday VIBe. The afternoon arrives, someone somewhere comforts somebody and another changes a diaper. On we move, together around the Sun. Another hour, another 66,000 miles through space and the miracle of loving each other. And Neil Young’s lyrics and music run through my head as my soul alights.

That’s all I know  — or need to — right now. Except that, one of these days………

– 30 –

Final Four Visitors: Move Along, There’s Nothing to See Here!

So, here we are in Detroit busy welcoming fanatical basketball friends from Connecticut, North Carolina, Philly (Villanova) and our own Sparty fans from around Michigan.

Yesterday, the Detroit Free Press set up a camera in the corner of the court inside Ford Field and streamed a great video of MSU’s practice. There were 30,000 people in attendance after waiting in a snaking entrance line in the rain on a 50-MPH day.

Amazing.

I watched the practice on the web on my lunch time. Today, I realize I should have done something else.

Instead of chewing contentedly on a hammy sammy in the comfortable confines of my downtown office, I should have been concerned for the masses. I should have had about 100,000 little cards printed up with the following message:

“If you see anything about the Detroit City Council on freep.com or detnews.com or any local television broadcast or hear about their shennanigans on radio, ignore it. It’s merely an extension of our own little April Fool’s joke that we in the media like to play. Surely you know no no real governing body could be so ridiculous — Please come back in five years.”

Then, I should have set out on the task of distributing the cards throughout the weekend.

Not in on the joke? Check it out here

Seriously, folks, this cannot be real!

And Now, for the Main Event: Nothing!!

Photo, Vince Kern -- All Copyrights Reserved 2009

(Pinckney — MI) Every morning Google Calendar sends me a blank email at about 4:36 a.m. while I cling to my last hour of sleep.

“You have no events scheduled today,” the subject line informs my ever-alert Blackberry.

I sleep on, unaware.

Usually, around 5:38 a.m. , I see the memo and say “Thank you!” as I’m waiting for my first cup of Kuerig coffee.

“No events”  is a wonderful proposition, indeed.

I set up my Google Calendar to track personal items such as dentist appointments, work out days, pay days to look forward to, birthdays and other such things that relate to the more important and familial parts of  life. Work is excluded. It has its own inescapable nagging Outlook reminders.

 I love reading that Google email first thing in the morning. Today, I didn’t see it until noon.

It’s been a grueling last two weeks of transforming the Detroit Free Press, Detroit News and Detroit Media Partnership for all of us. Last night I had to hit the sack at 8:30. It took all the energy I had left to make it up the stairs. And I clocked an adult-record 14.5 hours of sleep. Aside from the mandatory trip to the dry cleaner before closing time at 3 p.m.to retrieve my clean and snappy business duds, nothing is going to get me off my property today.

About 1 p.m., I tweeted to the 28 folks who follow me on Twitter :“Daring anyone from work to call or email me today! Go ahead, but this will be my blanket response “zzzzzzzzzzzz” — & crickets chirping.”

It’s now 4:12 p.m. and I haven’t done too bad with that challenge. One email from an Advertising person returned accidentaly (I forgot) and one incoming phone call from a colleague. Scratch the phone call off the list because it was his butt that dialed and I’m back to one email returned for now.

Michigan State in the Final Four tonight means if they win I’ll be up till 1 a.m. or later Tuesday directing production for the Championship game. “Go Spartans!!” I say, but I’m going back to my Google Calendar to schedule an event for tomorrow.

Google. Calendar. Open Sunday, April 4, 2009. New Event. Time? All Day Event.

Subject?

Take Another Day Off On Me, The Vinman.

–30–

SpongeBob on Friday, March 6 at about 3 p.m., still stuck between two trees as he had been for days. -- Photo Vince Kern, All copyrights reserved.

What’s happened to SpongeBob SquarePants?

That question is on the mind of many folks living off and around Pettysville Road near M-36 in Pinckney today after the cartoon character suddenly — and mysteriously — disappeared after days of being stuck between two trees .

The popular Porifera had appeared nearly a week ago to motorists travelling the two-lane route north to Swarthout Rd and on towards Brighton.

“I saw something out of the corner of my eye on my way home from work Tuesday evening, ” said Brian Rossbery, an employee of Pinckney Plumbing of 20 years.

“I was going pretty fast and it was getting dark, but I thought he waved to me. I had my radio on pretty loud so I didn’t hear him crying out for help or anything like that. Maybe I should have stopped and checked on him, but I figured `hey, he’s SpongeBob so he don’t need no help from me.”

Sources who wish to remain anonymous said that while local authorities were concerned there may have been foul play involved they also were skeptical because of pranks and things they had on file from Bikini Bottom police reports. The BBPD said SquarePants is well-known for numerous roadside pranks especially while learning to drive with Mrs. Puff and that his neighbor and colleague at the Krusty Krab, Squidward,  has tried many times to vanquish him from Bikini Bottom to no avail.

A local scientist, however had a different take on the strange events. “It’s very likely that the fellow was running to get out of the snow we kept getting and sponged-up the falling flakes enough to misjudge the space required to get through that tree. Sponges ain’t too smart, you know.” said Henry Stokely a local marine biologist. “Then, the cold weather came and not only couldn’t we see him cause of the snowbanks but his shape was frozen in place,” he added. 

M&M Candie, seen here greeting this reporter with his usual confident, thumbs-up greeting on Friday the day before SpongeBob disappeared from the tree.

THE CANDY CONNECTION

Few local residents wanted to believe Saturday, or discuss, the rumor that a gang of M&M candies living just up the road had become jealous of SquarePants’ cinema success and stuffed him in the tree as a placeholder to further harm.

The candies,  known to melt in your mouth but not in your hand, have a solid community reputation and are a favorite treat at the Pettysville Junction party store at the intersection of Pettysville and M-36. Store owners said plain and peanut styles are both top selling items and said they doubted the candies would want to risk their future earnings on a sponge.

The blue M&M with a Santa hat (left) stood wiling to listen to my questions, but did not respond to my inquiries.

As of this evening, the plight of SquarePants remains uncertain as yesterday’s summer-like temperatures and first wonderful weather has turned to a gloomy, grey rainy day with fog. It’s as if the mystery of the popular cartoon character’s disappearance has overtaken the weather and mood of Pinckeyites, Lakesiders and Hamburgians alike.

At the Zuckey Lake Tavern, locals sat at the bar earlier this afternoon watching college basketball and wondering about SquarePants. One local summed it up best as he looked downward while sipping a Budweiser and said with a worried tone, “Strange things happen around here, but I’ve never seen nothin’ like this.”

 “I hope that little yeller spongy feller is okay. He keeps my little grandson quiet for a little while when I babysit so he’s all right by me.”

Contacted by phone this afternoon on a vacation in the Bahamas, SquarePants’ employer Eugene Krabs was not surprised to hear of mischievous news about SquarePants and said his fry-cook was also on vacation so nobody at the restaurant would have been concerned either.

“This better not be the work of Plankton!” bellowed Krabs from a fishing boat at sea. “SongeBob’s sposed to be back  flippin’ paddies on St. Patty’s day makin’ me my money first thing.” Krabs said he was going to contact The Flying Dutchman to see if he would look in to his award-winning employee’s whereabouts.

“He’s been employee of the month every month for years ’cause it keeps the little fellow turnin’ out Krabby Patties fer me customers, I can’t afford to loose dat money machine,” he added.

If you have any knowledge of the whereabouts or condition of SpongeBob SquarePants, please upload the information in the comments field below the headline of this post and I will dutifully investigate the leads or pass them on to local police.