The Joy of Recurring Gratitude

Thanksgiving Card!

Art by an anonymous Hallmark staffer, probably.

Every year I receive exactly one (1) greeting card wishing me Happy Thanksgiving. A fellow who works for my company in another state used to need my help on assorted requests several years ago, and I’ve been on his Thanksgiving card list ever since. Nowadays he needs my help only sporadically — if we have contact more than twice a year, I’d be surprised. But he keeps me in his thoughts. Above and beyond the pre-printed, mass-produced, well-wishing boilerplate, he writes a note of personalized appreciation inside each card, much more than just “Hi!” and a name. It’s always wordier than 90% of the Christmas cards we receive, the closest I ever get to an old-fashioned letter. It’s a tradition that used to strike me as odd, but as I’ve grown older I’ve come to appreciate it as a kind touch that adds a modest, welcome flourish to the proceedings. Also, this year’s model looks niftier than ever.

To MCC’s longtime readers: thank you for being you. Thanks for stopping by. Thanks very much for the comments and the encouraging feedback, whether one-click or multi-paragraph. Thanks for your acts, great or small, that go a long way toward making this peculiar labor of love an enriching experience. Special thanks to anyone who’s ever recommended or just mentioned the site to any other human. Thanks to all of you for being there at every level.

Our family wishes a happy, blessed Thanksgiving to you frequent visitors and newcomers alike. May your holiday and your weekend be filled to overflowing with a continual parade of kindnesses, from the largest favors to the smallest gestures. And may you find yourselves pleasantly surprised at which moments come to mean the most.

Indiana Couple Negotiates Tentative Agreement for Turkey After Weeks of Diplomatic Stalemate

Turkey and Pie!

Turkey and pie. Let’s face it: everything else at the Thanksgiving table is disposable.

All this week, every time someone friendly asked me, “Got plans for Thanksgiving?” I’ve had to shrug and say, “Wish I knew.” As of this morning, six days before the big event, neither my family nor Anne’s had communicated a single word to either of us one way or another. No Facebook “event” set up. No direct messages. No general statuses. No phone calls. No cards. No sign of any volunteers. No visible evidence that any of them still considered Thanksgiving a worthy celebration and not a fabricated Hallmark card-selling stunt.

Hoping for the best but planning for the worst, we decided tonight to buy our own fourteen-pound backup turkey. Just in case. Because sometimes you gotta take holiday matters into your own hands.

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Everything We Know About Air Travel is Wrong, We Hope

WWII Plane!

Spend five minutes peeking at Midlife Crisis Crossover and you’ll notice my wife and I do enjoy a bit of travel. We have our annual week-long road trips to other states and time zones, where we can discover new environments and attractions, such as the New Orleans establishment shown above. From time to time we head off to our sometimes annoying neighbor Illinois for geek conventions, and we’ve discussed expanding our scope in other directions. We like spending our respective birthdays visiting other parts of Indiana and seeing other Hoosiers like or unlike us. We may devote a lot of time to screens with entertainment on them, but we place a certain importance on getting out of the house and seeing the world beyond our front door.

However, our family, friends, and longtime MCC followers know our expeditions come with a limitation: we don’t fly. We’ve never bought a plane ticket, we’ve never soared in or above the clouds, we’ve never been across the oceans or even to California, even though we have friends living there we simply must meet before we all die of oldness. By our standards air travel is expensive; the boarding requirements are invasive; you miss all the interesting sights and stops between points A and B; and it doesn’t help that the news outlets love to tell us about all the crashes but they never celebrate the hundreds of successful non-crashing flights that I’m told are theoretically possible and maybe even real.

We’re well aware Superman loves to tell everyone who’ll listen that, statistically speaking, flying is the safest way to travel, but that’s easy to say when you’re so invulnerable that not even actual dying keeps you down for long. For all these reasons and more, we’ve never been in a position to give planes a chance.

Until now.

Right this way for a very special MCC news release!

The Other Randall Golden, 1954-2015

Dad.

Photo swiped from a relative on Facebook, date unknown. I have no pics of him on hand. Shots of the two of us together exist but are rarer than mint copies of Action #1.

I was notified Monday night my father had once again been hospitalized, but this time the doctors estimated he had about two days to live. Unrelated, unfortunate complications kept me from visiting him that very evening, but Anne and I began putting plans together to visit him tonight.

After I arrived at work this morning, I learned their estimate was off by about forty hours and that he’d passed away shortly before midnight.

The last time I saw him alive was on the morning of our wedding day in 2004. He’d arrived hours before anyone else, including us, because he wanted to congratulate us in private. We spoke for less than five minutes before he took his leave.

We spoke on the phone once every couple years after that, mostly about medical updates. We share a first name, and it’s entirely possible I’ll be sharing some of his conditions in the years ahead.

My preferred method of working through unique events (better or worse, good guy or bad) is to ponder at length in this space, but for dozens of reasons this moment doesn’t feel like the right time for new essays. The first time I tried to string any clauses together this evening, an ostensibly simple, fourteen-word Facebook status took me twenty-five minutes to write, including an extended thesaurus consultation and an editorial review by Anne at my repeated insistence.

Between this and other little signs throughout the day, I strongly believe God’s been trying to tell me to be still and spend more time listening, reading, thinking, and praying for a good while.

The funeral is Friday, but I’ve no idea how the next two days will go, either offline or here on the site. More introspection? Extended radio silence? Deep diving into Scripture? Off-topic distraction? Wish I knew.

Apologies for the disjointed fragments. For now I’m putting my inadequate words away, shutting up, standing by, and waiting to see what comes next.

The Twilight Years of the Back Issue Hunter

Comics!

Once upon a time, at the very first comic book shows I attended as a teen, rooting through back issue bins for missing comics was the only thing I wanted to do. Once a year or so, my mom would drive me to the Marriott out at 21st and Shadeland, where the Ash Comics Show brought a bunch of dealers and collectors into a single ballroom and let them sell the heck out of comics — shelves, spinner racks, and packed longboxes from wall to wall. A few published artists would come in as guests. A TV and some chairs set up near the entrance passed for an anime viewing area. There may have been related events in another room or two. But mostly I wanted to plug the holes in my comics collection. The thrill of the hunt, the joy of discovery, the satisfaction of completism — whatever you call it, that’s how comics were my anti-drug.

I tried to get into the spirit in time for Wizard World Chicago last month. I took the above pic while going through my organized accumulation as a reminder to myself of the joy I once had rifling through hundreds of comics at a time in hopes of striking reader gold. I spent a couple of nights shifting from box to box, reuniting with old series, reliving classic arcs, stumbling across #1s I forgot I had (Reign of the Zodiac? That was a thing?), and generally immersing myself in the old-timey smell of newsprint and the nostalgic sight of crinkled, battered covers from decades past.

I was thiiis close to wanting more back issues. It almost worked.

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Confessions of a Former Costume Contest Fan

C2E2 2015 Finalists!

C2E2 semi-finalists, left to right: a Warhammer 40K Inquisitor; Takuto Tsunashi from Star Driver; an original Norse Valkyrie; the Khorne Marauder, also from Warhammer 40K; and I believe you’ve met Groot.

Each time my wife and I attend a convention, we love coming home with dozens upon dozens of photos to save for posterity once we’ve turned elderly and forgotten everything we ever did, to show to friends and family interested in what we do, and to share with followers and passing strangers here on Midlife Crisis Crossover. To us it’s all a part of the geek experience, a sort of community service for those who couldn’t be there, or for those who were there but are looking for more shots, different perspectives, or simply proof of their existence when they were unable to take or locate any pics of themselves.

On a related note, for better or for worse, MCC’s highest single-day traffic figures every year are nearly always from cosplay photo galleries. Longtime readers who have no use for cons may wonder why I devote multiple entries to each con, but for me the math is easy: cons provide plenty of new content, anecdotes, and visual wonders to share with the world; and we usually see a traffic spike with each miniseries, especially when it comes to reporting costume contest results. Everybody loves winners, and even runners-up in such showdowns are impressive in their own right.

The grandest of them all is Gen Con, which we’ve been attending since before the recent boom in the Indianapolis con scene. Anne and I aren’t even tabletop or TCG gamers, but their exhibit hall contains scintillating multitudes and their costume contest attracts some of the most imaginative, hard-working, dedicated fans around with a penchant for representing characters and concepts far from the mainstream norms. I come away from each Gen Con a little more wowed and schooled at the same time. I’ve made no secret that the costume contest is the primary reason I attend Gen Con.

After our recent con experiences and no small amount of self-examination on my part, I think I need to let the whole costume-contest thing go.

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The Sweetest Gal in the E.R.

Anne!

Though I’ve been wanting to try out the camera on my new phone in a variety of settings, photography testing wasn’t among my original plans for Wednesday night. My beloved wife Anne agreed to this unusual photo-op while we were waiting calmly for the physicians on duty to determine the cause of the chest pains she’d been having all day.

Make no mistake: that pretty smile belied some pretty frazzled nerves.

Right this way for more about Anne’s fate. Also: a musical number!

Eulogy for Sixteen Years’ Worth of Files

Black Screen!

Thank you all for coming. I’ve gathered my wits today to say a few words about the losses my wife and I suffered in the Great Hard Drive Crash of July 1, 2015.

We’ve had the same PC since at least 2009, maybe even longer. It was neither top-of-the-line Alienware nor an eMachines glorified calculator when I bonded with it at Fry’s Electronics and brought it home to join our household. I spent more than I could afford at the time, but it served us well in the long run and more than made up the difference to us on a number of levels. It was terrible for gaming and I let that dream go early, but it served all our modest needs with an efficiency and speed that its predecessors could never touch. We were one big happy family.

Meanwhile behind the scenes, things were falling apart…

Not My Favorite Writing Environment

image

Not my favorite bed.

It’s that magical time again! Once or twice a year the recurring lower back pain that strikes when I least expect it chooses the worst possible time to come at me, ruin a few days, and keep me some combination of humble and humiliated.

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Saturday Night’s Not All Right for Fast Food

Icky Dump

Three Saturdays ago my wife and I returned to town after a long, long drive and had neither energy nor willpower to cook supper at home. We weren’t in the mood to wait 60-120 minutes for a table at your Olive Garden/Red Lobster level of weekend hotspots. We’d already racked up a number of single-day expenses and were neither amenable nor properly dressed to go overspend on a nicer, classier, posher, less crowded establishment. So we decided to stop for fast food.

On a Saturday night. I know better than this.

When things went south, they set off a series of flashbacks to my previous career track and reminded me exactly why I should know better.

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The Fate of Indianapolis is Partly in My Hands

My Vote, My Voice!

“Take as many as you want,” said the nice clerk at the polls five minutes before closing time. I tried to keep it subtle.

Dunno about your locale, but here in Indiana today we had our annual opportunity to participate in the Election Day primaries that determine which political candidates will be allowed by their respective parties to run for office for real in November. It happens on the same Tuesday every year, so it’s not exactly a trade secret, but the voter turnout is always paltry. Voting for positions such as city-council seats or school board members or tax referendums isn’t as glamorous or intoxicating as voting for mayor, governor, President, or American Idol, but it’s a privilege someone has to exercise so the system will keep running according to The Way Things Are and we don’t have to appoint new leaders by choosing from random LinkedIn profiles.

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Echoes of Homeowners Past

Ethernet Jack!

If you’re unlike me, your idea of a fun afternoon is inviting your friends to come over with their laptops, their ethernet cables, and all their favorite games that were meant to run at DSL speeds. Everyone gathers around the ethernet wall hub like Scouts around a campfire, plugs in to the same jack, boots up Windows XP, pops in their CD-ROMs, and has themselves a grand old wired time.

I’m assuming that’s what the previous owners of this house did. Or maybe they taught Applied Computer Science classes from home to all the neighborhood latchkey kids. Or they weren’t sure which jack the phone company would endorse but they figured you can’t go wrong with “Bigger is Better” or “Holeyer is Holier”. Maybe they were anticipating the one magical day when Internet Science would let you could hook two ethernet cables to your PC and double your processing speed. If only that had ever been feasible, perhaps RealPlayer would’ve been watchable.

Right this way for another case of MCC home “improvement”!

Post-Convention Sick-Day Blues

Troy + Abed in the Morning!

Today’s lunch: hot tea and meds.

The day after we finished up with Indiana Comic Con 2015, I could already feel “con crud” creeping into my system. I’m no stranger to the notorious cold/flu that strikes at convention attendees after they’ve hung around a few thousand fans too many, but I’d hoped to dodge a bullet this time. Between the cool temps and Friday’s nonstop rains, my good health wasn’t meant to last.

I held out for as long as I could. I lasted three business days before I surrendered and took a sick day so I retreat into defensive hibernation. After last night proved disastrously unhelpful, today I slept till noon, took more countermeasures, and tried to keep distracted with news and hobbies and such.

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The Most Irrelevant Man in the World

Xmas 2014!

No editor can stop him from posting Christmas photos in March. He is…The Most Irrelevant Man in the World!

His favorite musicians are eligible for AARP membership.

He was once this close to live-tweeting A Passage to India.

He thinks #TheDress is all the colors of the rainbow. He is…The Most Irrelevant Man in the World!

Thoughts ensue on how aging can affect blogging…

Box Office Beyond Borders III: What 2014 Movies Did Other Countries Enjoy More Than We Did?

Expendables 3!

From a certain perspective, the third outing for the Expendables proved the worldwide marketing viability of all-star team-ups, diversity, explosions, and machismo. Probably not in that order.

For the last two years around this time, I asked a question aloud to no one in particular: if we know the highest-grossing movies at the American box office each year, and we know the highest-grossing movies worldwide at all box offices, which movies were the year’s winners if we subtract America’s dollars? What were the rest of Planet Earth’s favorite popcorn flicks?

Box Office Mojo is a fantastic source for fans who can’t get enough number-crunching, being the premiere online source for film revenue tracking. You can check out their 2014 stats for domestic and total worldwide box office as separate lists, but if you want to know only what drove the rest of the world into their respective theaters regardless of American appetites, additional math is required to remove us from the Big Picture.

Lo and behold: I did the math for all of us. Presented below are the forty highest-grossing movies of 2014 outside the U.S. Right this way for the World’s Top 50 Without Us!

All is Quiet on New Year’s Day. GOOD.

Lucky!

Some holidays were made for lethargy.

After a busy Christmas weekend and a restless year in general, I determined New Year’s Day would be an oasis of peace and inaction. No working, no running errands, no visiting relatives, no spending hours on home improvement or inessential chores, no new projects even if they’re fun ones, no heavy lifting, no hard thinking, and no activities that resemble my day-job responsibilities.

Good news: complete lack-of-mission accomplished. My concentration levels are rising. My worries are muted. My nerves are steady. How our dog Lucky spent New Year’s Eve (pictured above) is how I spent today. I love it when a plan comes together.

Some of this re-energizing trance will be wasted because I’m denied the luxury of a four-day weekend and will be reporting to work Friday. Chores and home activities will likely be Saturday’s themes. For now, I’m taking what I can get, enjoying the moment, and living for a short while longer like a spoiled house dog. If you haven’t tried it I highly recommend it, but only in moderation. If too many of us choose to live this way 24/7, our society crumbles and all the older citizens will write indulgent thinkpieces shaming us all. So today only, the rest; tomorrow, back to the stress.

Too much typing. Stopping now.

zzzzzzzzzzzz

Can We Count My New PS3 Toward My Obligatory Midlife Crisis?

Bioshock!

Here I come to save the day in a cruddy pic from this afternoon’s Bioshock session.

For a blog with “midlife crisis” in the title, it may seem odd that I don’t discuss the concept much. Other than the casual references in my About page, my only direct treatment of the subject was in an entry from MCC’s first month, before I had readers or any clear idea where this site would be going.

The short version of that old entry: I think I’m okay on the midlife crisis front. So far, no urge to go splurge on a flashy sports car whose insurance payments, speeding tickets, and designer gas requirements would devastate me. No desire to go prowling for an under-25 replacement wife that I’d disappoint on multiple levels. No fleeting whims to quit the day job that makes this entire long-term experiment possible. No chance of drastic fashion overhaul, hair implants, or radical blubberectomy. And, thankfully, no therapy sessions scheduled to scrutinize a burdensome lack of Happy.

Yet, anyway.

But there was one item I picked up on Black Friday 2014 that I’m hoping will be the one big unplanned expenditure to fully sublimate any such lingering, as-yet-imperceptible, subconscious urges to escape reality or to revisit those bygone days of youthful vim and vigor: a used PS3.

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Christmas Shopping? I’m Not Even Done With My November Chores

Raking Leaves!

Every day at work this week, the small talk turned largely to one of two topics: “Here, have some sugary snacks!” and “Got your Christmas shopping done yet?” I hate when small talk uncovers a festering wound the questioner didn’t know was there.

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A Fond Farewell to the Chapel of Love

The Old Chapel!

Ten years ago, these were the pews where 60+ friends, relatives, and hangers-on gathered to watch a truly peachy-keen woman agree to holy matrimony with this one dorky guy who read too many comics.

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My So-Called “Black Friday” 2014

Barnes & Noble!

Hero Blogger Looks for Black Friday War Stories in All the Wrong Places

It was that time of year again! Black Friday has become that highly anticipated, deeply dreaded, beneficial, violent, invigorating, intimidating, fulfilling, decaying, economically necessary, ethically questionable, joyous holiday and/or time of mourning for everyone’s souls. Depending on who’s asking, it’s shopping as a competitive sport, or shopping as the closest American society comes to legalizing The Purge. It’s a great time for rock-bottom bargains, or it’s a time for suckers to get stuck with retailers’ unwanted, defective leftovers. It’s when the Christmas season begins for real, or it’s the ultimate defamation to the name of Christ.

Reporters spend the day prowling for cautionary tales of merchandise hoarding gone wrong, of consumer entitlement run amuck, of retailer manipulation backfiring, of fisticuffs and gunfights, of hair-pulling and cheek-slapping. Somewhere out there, shoppers will be boxing for the privilege to take home a ten-dollar panini maker that the manufacturer discontinued due to exploding wiring, and any number of news crews mean to catch it on tape before some lucky amateurs capture and post it on YouTube first. Everyone tells themselves it’s all part of the Game and complains about the system while continuing to do their part.

Black Friday used to be my thing. In recent years I’ve scaled back my expectations and participation. No more arising at 4 a.m. or earlier like a shopping zombie that thinks “doorbusters” is a synonym for “brains”. No more scheming for the largest tech items that’ll be stocked at a maximum of two per store. No more long shopping lists requiring fifteen or twenty stops’ worth of hunting and gathering.

This year I implemented more modifications to my approach. This is how my Black Friday 2014 turned out:

Right this way for a certain level of disappointment!