Some people may think this is corny.

I've not been to New York City for quite some time, but I do plan to visit again sometime to see the new Yankee Stadium. While I was on the east coast trying to further my education back in the early 70's, I was just 50 miles north of the City. We often took advantage of the close proximity and spent short weekends there during my third and fourth years. Unfortunately for me, the Yankees decided to renovate Yankee Stadium during those two years and played their home games at Shea. Although I did go watch them on occasion, it just wasn't the same as being at the Stadium. In the early 90's, I was doing some work out on the east coast, and took a trip over to the Bronx one weekend to see Donnie Baseball and the Yanks playing against George Brett and the Royals. That was my last trip to the City. Now I go to exotic places like Park Mammoth and French Lick.

Weekend trips to the City with classmates back in 1974 and 75 were a lot of fun. I was particularly fond of going to dinner theaters and night clubs with good entertainment. My idea of good entertainment probably clashes with the majority of most living human beings, but that fact has never bothered me. It seems to bother some of my friends that I don't always enjoy or that I'm not entertained by the same things which entertain them. I've never understood that, I always thought it was a personal thing. A friend of mine recently asked me why I didn't find some particular story very funny and I said, "I don't know, it just wasn't funny." This upset him and I'm not sure why. I guess I should have lied and laughed like some epileptic hyena.

One night in the City, a handful of us visited a club and listened to Harry Chapin sing his stories. 'Taxi' has always been a favorite of mine, as well as "WOLD' and 'A Better Place to Be". It was a great performance by a man who really loved to entertain people.

Another evening we happened upon a club with an old Cajun telling stories. I had never heard of Justin Wilson before this night, but I became a fan immediately. The first story he told about hunting black bears has always been a favorite of mine. He told of taking a nap after hunting for a few hours and being awakened by a black bear running right towards him. He related to a friend how fortunate he was that there was tree close by with a limb that was 22 and half feet high. When his friend asked if he was able to grab hold of that limb, Justin just smiled and said, "I missed it on the way up, but I caught it on the way down." Justin was a popular Cajun chef so I bought one of his cookbooks. I thought it might be fun cooking with the old Cajun, but it just wasn't very entertaining. I think that book was sold in a yard sale.

To me, a good comedian is one who presents his material in a natural unforced manner and often makes you think. Good comedians are hard to find these days, as so many of them try to provide emphasis to their humor by masking it with tons of unnecessary profane language. That type of humor, while funny to a lot of people, just doesn't do much for me. To me a simple joke like, "Why don't cannibals eat clowns? Because they taste funny," is hilarious and I just wished that I had thought of it first. Most people will say that it is too corny, but I'll bet they couldn't have come up with something that brilliant.

One of my favorite evenings in the City was when a few of us went to a dinner theater for the first time. We enjoyed a nice meal with a couple of actors performing a comedy on the stage just a few feet away. I guess it would be fun to get out and do that again sometime, instead of eating dinner by myself on the coffee table and watching television. I guess if it were a bad play though, you'd just be stuck there eating and watching a bad play. Heck, I can just hit the remote.

Thirty-six years ago this week, with a good degree of difficulty, I managed to get to the City to see my all time favorite singer, Carole King, perform live (and for free) in Central Park. They said there were over a hundred thousand people in attendance. To me, it looked like a million. And it didn't turn out to be free, because I got back late from the city and I paid dearly for it. Amazing how the military can get so upset about being a couple of hours late. I'm not much into seeing concerts anymore, but I could be talked into seeing Carole again.

Here we are thirty-six years later and we're getting ready for the Phil Harris Scholarship Tourney and the Roy Clark show this week. I'm looking forward to this weekend of golf and if I can get a couple of tickets and a date, maybe I'll go to Roy's show. Or maybe one ticket and no date, that is probably a better idea in my case.

I think I'll write Carole King and see if she would consider coming next year to the Phil Harris Tourney and playing golf with me... and maybe singing me a song or two. "...It would be so fine to see your face at my door."

Just an added note: Does anyone else think that the Los Bravos lead singer, Mike Kogel, was the illegitimate son of Gene Pitney? Just listen to Black is Black sometime.