Tale Of The Tape

In the 1970's and 80's, my brother George had a complete weight lifting gym in our basement. When I say complete, I mean all the machines and thousands of pounds of weights. There was even a name for the gym.
Geo's Gym.

The gym was open to all of our friends who wanted to lift weights. There were approximately 20 members who frequently came over several times per week. Most were just regular lifters, but a few were serious body builders.

One of the members was Phil, a school mate and friend for many years. He wanted to be the next Mr. Universe and started his training with a vengeance. Phil was dedicated and had a complete plan mapped out. He had wall graphs charting his weight gain and also his vital body measurements. Biceps, chest, waist, legs, and about 25 other body measurements.

George took notice of this and also of the tape measure Phil used and the frequency he measured. (Once a week, every Monday) George, being the prankster, had an idea and brought me and Hoover (Geo's Gym member) into the plan.

On Sunday, George took Phil's measuring tape and soaked it in hot water for an hour. Then he hung it over one of the pull up bars in the ceiling and tied several weight plates to it which would stretch the tape by about a half inch.

On Monday before Phil would arrive, George placed the tape back where Phil kept it. He and Hoover would then wait for Phil to measure his progress.

Phil began with his biceps and stopped and measured it again. In fact, he measured it three times. He had lost a half inch on his biceps. He then went to each body part measurement checking each several times.

When he was finished charting all the results, George asked how he did. Phil said he couldn't figure it out but he lost almost a half inch. George played along and asked to borrow Phil's tape to check his own measurements. He took the tape, flexed his arms and measured his bicep. Lying, He said he gained an 1/8th of an inch from last week. Hoover also said the same.

For about a month, George repeated the routine and Phil couldn't figure out what he was doing wrong. And then George changed directions. Instead of soaking the tape in hot water and hanging weights on it, George would soak the tape in cold water and then toss it in the clothes dryer for 20 minutes creating a shorter tape measure. About a half an inch. George then put the tape back and waited for Phil.

Come Monday, Phil began his measurement ritual. After the first measurement, he got all excited as he noticed a big jump in his bicep. When he was finished he told George that he had a break through in his training and that the results were significant. George continued this sequence for about a month.

George kept this up for more than six months, changing the tape making it shorter or longer on a whim all awhile Phil was oblivious to what was really happening.

Alas, all good gags come to an end. One Monday, Phil brought a new measuring tape and tossed out the old one. After he completed his measurements, Phil knew something was wrong. His chart zigzagged up and down each month and now his measurements were again completely different from last weeks. George decided to inform Phil what was happening and that he was being pranked.

George, Hoover, and myself were laughing hysterically as George explained how he would stretch the tape one week and shorten it the next and how Phil would get mad when the measurements were short and excited when they would get big. Phil took the news pretty good. Of course he had to. George was a beast and it was his gym.

Good times, good times.

R.I.P. Big G.

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Riding The Christmas Tree

Looking at the calendar seeing November rapidly fading I can almost hear the gears begin to shift into the high glee of the Christmas spirit. With my vantage point, I can see the traffic congestion, thousands of cars filled with happy shoppers waiting for hours to save 5 bucks on a four-slice toaster.

But this blog ain’t about the lead up to Christmas, it’s the after effects of the holiday season, or more precise, the tradition of taking down the tree. (Rest assured, there will be a very soon blog on the tradition of putting the Christmas tree up, from the old days of going out and cutting down a fresh tree to the current artificial tree scenario we have right now.)

Happy New Year!!! Yes January 1st is here and the tree is still in the corner. Our two wild cats have already picked it clean of all their favorite baubles and trinkets leaving a smattering of tidings and joy scattered throughout the house. You haven’t lived until you see silver tinsel in the cat box. And it didn’t fall in there either. Yet I digress yet again.

The dismantling of the tree and storing it away was always a chore. Taking down all the ornaments that the cats didn’t like and putting them back in their boxes, unwrapping the garland strings and folding it ever so nicely back into its boxes, unwinding the several thousand lights that when at full illumination, burned my retina’s out and I couldn’t see for two full days.

And yes, the lights always seem to get tangled into a big ball and it takes quite awhile and plenty of patience to get them all wound up in the right coiled position so next year when they are unpacked, they are not in a big ass ball.

Finally, the tree is bare and I bring the tree box from the basement and center it in the living room. Taking out the old newspapers from years past that I use to cover the tree, (I don’t know why I do that) I begin with the treetop and it pops right off. I set it on top of the lazy boy couch.
The tree is in sections and comes apart fairly easily. This part takes all of five minutes. I then pack each section carefully in the box, put the treetop in and the poles and the tree stand. I then put the old newspapers on top and tape up the box readying it for its journey and dormant sleep for another year in the basement.

I pushed the tree box to the kitchen door and positioned it in front of the basement stairs. Gently and slowly I lifted the tree box beginnings its journey down the steps. Then it happened. I guess my tennis shoes were untied for I stepped on the laces and tripped and fell right on top of the tree box. A split second later, I was inside the tree box sleeping with the branches, and a split second after that I was riding the damn Christmas tree down the basement steps.

Thump, Thump, Thump, times 15 steps. My heart was pounding and my mind went blank. (My wife says hard to believe huh?) The ride was over in a nanosecond. The box slip safely to a halt about five feet on the basement floor. I jumped out of that box like a Jack-In-The-Box tightly wound. Feeling nothing broken I started to laugh. I sat down on the floor cracking up thinking that this episode would have been perfect for America’s Funniest home movies. Where’s the damn web cam when you need them?

Later that day I told my wife Patty of my most eventful day. She looked at me in shock, asked if I was OK, and then proceeded to bust out in laughter calling me by her pet name she made up for me. “You idiot, you’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself.” Yes dear, but at least the Christmas tree was stowed away for another year and I got a free ride down the steps.

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL