Like it or not our childhood and relationship with our parents and the times we grew up in shape us in ways we can never escape. Like the urge to wear polyester leisure suits and bad toupees that I inherited from my Dad. And I'm not even bald yet.
This particular epiphany came upon me when I  rediscovered a 34-year-old family photo portrait. The proudly displayed all seven members of the Hopper clan, all clad in the famed fashions of the day smiling from ear to ear in the disco, bell bottomed, leisure suited three burgers for a $1.20, 35 cents for a gallon of gas fashion of that. You know the kind of photo they show on the history channel of families in the old west scowling in the fashion of that day wearing clothes that cost more than their house holding on tightly tot eh grip of the pistol they just used to fight off the rustlers that they caught raping..I mean stealing their cattle.
Anyway back to the photo...
 The 70s were a confusing times full of confused people and pets. Much like the Siamese cat my family had as a child. She had been raised with two dogs and thought she was one. She even tried to bark at strangers when they approached the house. Imagine a cat running side by side with two mixed breed mongrels meowing furiously with a southern accent at strangers as they approached. "Meow ya'll, meow I mean ruff ruff...y'all"
Anyway in this photo myself my dad and my brothers were all decked out in dark and light blue leisure suits arranged in the photo in two rows dark blue polyester on top light blue on bottom so that we created some kind of sick disco ball bilateral symmetry of light blue and dark blue 70s geek chic.
 In this photo the lapels of those thankfully bygone rayon 70s style print dress shirts rested on top of the suit collars in the style of those thankfully bygone days my mother, who was actually a very attractive woman ( yes I know there is something deeply Freudian in that but what the hey) is wearing huge rimmed tortoise shell glasses . When I was in the Army in the 80s the army issued a slightly more masculine form of these glasses. My fellow cold war Gils and I used to call  these particular kind of glasses RPGs short for rape prevention glasses. The theory was that the chances of anyone ever having sex of any kind even to the point of being raped while wearing these glasses was pretty thin. Being that my parents had five kids while they were together, that theory may have some holes in it but you get the idea.
I understand this style of eye glasses are back in style and I say to all the young people out there ....don't do it...we have to perpetuate the species. Did I mention the Mister Spock haircut my parents allowed me to get or the jagged bowl cut my brothers hair was in. That could explain my fascination with the Star Trek mythology to this very day.
Now I actually like the long flowing female hairstyles of those days but the toupee my dad wore in this family fashion disaster can only be described a s horse hair with an attitude.
 Anyway in conclusion I have to say be careful what you teach your children.  I'm not even bald yet and I cannot escape the urge to wear ugly toupees. The 70s were a confusing time.

self explanatory ...lots of 90s Marvel comic books for sale rmhopper3@yahoo.com 219-663-3174

There are three days you always remember about your childhood witth near perfect clarity.

What I remember most about growing up in Southeast Texas, in the 60s and 70s (besides ugly hair dos and lots of plaid and the occassional clan rally)  were the days my father took me to a small town Texas café on the way to school in the second grade.   I remember the glorious breakfast we always ordered there. )  ..for $1.39 you got eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast and jelly, grits, a small glass of orange juice and a consult with a local cardiologist or minister depending on your age, religious disposition and relative health.  It was the late 60s, food was cheap and health food was something exotic tie dye clad Californians ate on holidays in between plotting with the communists  to take over the world according to the folks who ate there.

Being healthy back then meant getting margarine or with your toast instead of real butter and making sure the pig fat your french fries were cooked in was fresh.

Anyway for a brief period of time the cafe breakfast and tthe morning journey that accompannied it  were a daily ritual for me and my father. Due to circumstances that are not especially dramatic or relevant I was going to school in a different town than we lived . On his way to work at a Southeast Texas golf course Dad would drive me to school past rthe oil refineries and cow pastures and and we would stop at this hole in the wall red neck café on the way to eat breakfast.   It was a great place Beside the great food at a good price, it was the 1960s and the locals occaisionally handed out free bed sheets and fire wood that could be used for local cultural activities and I could still comb my hair with hair oil and no one noticed.  The waitresses had big hair and were always friendly and polite. Did you know that "Y'allbeenhelpedyet is actually one word..." and women can hide things in three feet tall hairdos held togather by hair spray and attitude.  There was always some kind of music playing on the old fashioned juke box in the corner of the restaurant when we ate there.  The juke box was loud and the sound quality was bad and there were times you could barely understand the words of any song they played.  I remember Jeremiah was a Bullfrog  was popular and some song about a Spinning Wheel ...and of course Elvis Presley.

Some mornings I would beg Dad for a dime to put in the machine to play a song which Dad usually agreed to, a surprising fact considering My Dad actually likes the music they play in elevators and dislikes most other forms of music regardless of its origins.  Despite his sometimes atavistic attitudes towarsd modern culture Dad is unusually non prejudiced when it comes to music. he heates it all. He looks at Toby Keith and LL CoolJ with equal disdain.. and perhaps the fact you could often you could barely disern the difference between Elvis and Beethoven on this juke box influenced his decision.

I remember one denizen of that establishment stare at a picture of Elvis bedecked in patriotic colors and mutter "damn hippie."
You could still smoke in restaurants back then and the air in that café was always filled with it. It was a toxic mix of cigarette  smoke and grease from food that was mostly fried and very greasy;  whiffs of decaying grass from the nearby marshes and pollution from nearby oil refineries.  Add to that  the smell of hair oil, cheap after shave, gallons of cheap coffee and fluorocarbon laden hair spray  you have an odor that is impossible to describe unless and these days found only found in less developed parts of the world like Mississippi or Utah. 

 When deciphering  the meaning of this story consider the fact that my mother was an incredible cook. She made fried chicken and mashed potatoes that would have tempted Gandhi to become republican and swear off veggies and peacefull resistance forever. Next to the food Mom cooked the Café food  stuff was probably drek but I always asked for seconds. Maybe I loved the place, greasy food, stale toast, toxic air and all because I was on this great adventure with my Dad.

It's funny how we can ignore certain problems until it is almost to late to do anything about it.. This is a fact that my now semi famous black Lab Spazz discovered the hard way recently as he learned to deal with the arrival of a new puppy in our house.

Red, the puppy is a female who most resembles a canine version of the energizer bunny with an attention deficit disorder or maybe Brittainy Spears on speed. Even her eyes are in constant motion and she even wags her tail in short hyperactive bursts. I can almost hear her speaking as she stops briefly to look around the room. (pant, pant pant...okay ran around the room twice, bit everything, what do I do now ...is that a bug......whats that smelll, gotta bite something...whats that oh a bug....run some more bite something rufruffruffruffruffruffruffruff, run run run bit bite..bite...gotta bite something...oohh a bug " you get the idea. The puppy became fond of nipping at Spazz's anatomy as he slept

He had learned to ignore the puppy's annoying tendency to playfully nip at you with her needle sharp puppy teeth....  After one brief look at me seeming to beg for permission to bite just one of her ears off with is intense brown eyes he sighed and much like an older brother rolled his eyes at the puppy and rolled over to complete his nap.

For whatever reason that day she was particularly active that day nipping at his tail as he slept. He ignored her rolluing his doggy eyes She then nipped at his back and he rolled his eyes again and rolled over to continue napping.  Spazz so named for his childhood tendency for constant motion has mellowed over the years and felt that at the mature five years of age he was simply to old and worldly for such childish antics. When the puppy continued in her circling him, this time nipping at the thick skin on his neck he looked at me again, "Come on let bite off one of her toes, a little one," when permission was not forthcoming he yet again he rolled his eyes and rolled over to continue his nap.

Next time around she nipped at Spazz's ears and in spite of his annoyance, he rolled his eyes and again ignored her again.

As you may know the aforementioned Spazz was narrowly saved from being fixed by household budget problems and his own dog Jedi mind powers. The mental cries of  "Dude don't do it and thse aren't the jewels you are looking for " still echo in my mind.

Spazz, like most guys is perhaps understandably sensitive about certain parts of his anatomy. As Spazz lay there ignoring her she nipped him again this time at one of his front feet and then at the fleshy part of his furry chest and again he ignored her and turned over to complete his nap. She reminds me a bit of a Siamese cat my family had as a child. She had been raised with two dogs and thought she was one, right up to the point of trying to bark at strangers when they approached the house.  The puppy nipped at his belly ...He again made a decided effort to ignore her ....gritting his teeth a little this time. A lot like siblings their is jealously between the two dogs  and Spazz looked up at me again seeming to ask for credit in not biting part of his little sisters anatomy off an then suddenly stood up and growled at her with such intensity and anger that for a second I was genuinely worried that, as he is a much bigger and stronger dog, he was finally going to bite part of her off. It seems that Red was biting her way around he body and Spazz ignored her until he was hot by the epiphany that his most treasured and sensitive part of his body was indeed next on her biting list and none of his Jedi dog powers would help him. "Spazzmo," I yelled using his full name much in the way a parent would when their "child." It was tense for a moment then Spazz sighed again keeping an eye on Red as he turned away. For her part Red stood there tilting her head from side to side like pop star at a grammy award show staring at a malfunctioning teleprompter...and then dashed off to chase a bug or bite somethign that did not bite back.

"What...what...is that a bug...gotta bite something ..play play play ...is that a bug....she seemed to say as she trotted off"

Neither dog has really changed in that brief time period of time since that episode but Spazz no longer ignores her. He has learned like many of us have that when you ignore a problem it usually gets worse until you get up and do something about it.

Stupid Questions and the Hopefully smart People who ask them ???

When was the War of 1812?

"What time is the 7:30 show?" a woman asked me as I stood in or near the cashiers cage at Treasure Island hotel/casino in Las Vegas in the mid 90s. Treasure Island was then a Pirate themed casino/hotel that boasted a huge theatrical production of a battle between a pirate ship and a small British war ship as its featured attraction.

To maintain good guest relations, by not laughing at the question and thereby the guest , I  merely stood silent for several moments. After regaining my composure I took a deep breath and said simply...'about 9:30..." Several shows had show had been delayed that day for technical reasons as the shows often were.

 Most people who ask such questions do it by accident. like the woman I mentioned earlier.  Later that same year as I was standing in the Treasure Island hotel's frtont lobby another guest gestured at the front door and asked quite innocently "is that Las Vegas????' He likely meant to ask if that was Las Vegas Blvd. just outside the door of the hotel, but that is not how the question came out.

The silly question is sometimes best answerwed by a silly answer. The silly answer to a silly question is a game can be played deliberately if you practice. Once a tourist in that self same casino looked me straight in the eye and asked me if I knew where the bathroom was. I replied 'why yes I do I work here.' When I worked at a newspaper in Texas after I introduced myself as a reporter for the local rag and interviewed the person for nearly a half hour the person paused and in all seriousness asked "You're not going to puit this in the paper are you....????

It  is one I have learned to play well with my 12-year-old daughter Alyssa, someone those of you who read my blogs know well. Once she asked me "Daddy when will I get to date..."

I simply replied..."Yes."

once she asked me,  "Daddy can I borrow $5 ????

Correct Answer: The salad fork goers on the left.

Question. Daddy will you really take me shopping sor school clothes ????

Answer...silence and fidgeting upon realization that shopping for school clothes includes assorted underwear... Growing number of smiles int he room reveal that the joke is one me.

The war of 1812 started in June of 1812 if anybody is interested>>>>