The Story Thread!

[SamZee]

So basically, I never make threads. Even more ironically, I've become weary of all the continuous threads. But if this one catches on, I think it'll be good.

Everyone has stories. Everyone. And this will be the thread to share them. Big or small, past or present, they're all welcome. We encounter story-worthy situations all the time. At the end of the day, come to this thread and memorialize them. Maybe you see an overenthusiastic runner that wipes out on the ice and you can't help but die laughing. Maybe something frustrating happens at work. Maybe something ridiculous happens in traffic. Perhaps something really funny happens at school. Or maybe you want to tell a story about something that happened a long time ago. Something epic, something hilarious, something sad, something awesome, something frustrating, something delightful -- whatever it may be. I think you can really learn a lot about someone by the stories they tell and how they tell them. =]

(I would start but I should already be in bed.)

Go!

[RockPillow®]

One time I dressed up as a Furby for Halloween.

...No...wait...nevermind. I'm not going to disclose any more than I already have.

[SmileAreSexy]

Once me and my cousin found this big wagon in his garage. (I was like 10 and he was 11) And around his neighborhood there was still construction going on. We'd find old pieces of wood, plastic, and occasionally flimsy orange rope. So guess what we thought would be a good idea? We tied a piece of rope to the back of his bike, connecting the wagon with me in it, and rode around the neighborhood. It doesn't sound so bad until we went down the steepest road in the neighborhood!! Literally this road was almost straight down. I told my cousin not to go down the hill, so of course he did. The rope snapped, and I went flying. I was so scared!! I thought about jumping out. The cart ended up taking a really sharp turn and hitting the curb. (I have no idea how that happened). It tipped over, and though shocked for a few moments, I was physically ok. True story.

[SamZee]

Ahahah, that's awesome. Bicycle-wagon skitching. That's epic. Thanks, Smiles!

I shall think of a good story later.

[BLUE]

Omg SAS you must have been scared to death. Great kid story though Thankies for sharing

[KRSTYSTLCLR]

O.K. so....
As a teen I played softball. High school and league ball.

I had been with most of the same team in the league for like 3 years. We went to playoffs, many of us went to All stars together, so we knew each other pretty well. The coach was the mother of two of the girls and she always had us doing fundraisers so we could travel and go to all the extra things we did.

One year, she get's us a gig as Santa's Helpers in the mall.

We had a few girls rotate the gift wrap counter and then at least 3 of us worked with Santa. I was lucky enough to work with Santa most of the time...

So one day things are going along and it get's kind of slow until a huge Rams football player askes if he can sit with Santa. I'm feeling a bit perplexed and go ask Santa if it's O.K.... Santa looks perplexed and say's "oh, why not?" Some this 6ft something, 240 lb guy sits on Santa's lap and we proceed to take his picture.

Then the guy leans over and tell Santa a secret. Now all us girls that were working were watching carefully to see what was going on.

Santa looks embarrassed and then, kind of chuckles, then see's us watching intently and looks embarrassed again. The ball player gets up, shakes Santa's hand, get's his photo of him on Santa's lap and smiles politely to us and leaves.

All three girls, including me swing our heads to look back at Santa and then at each other wondering what the heck the guy said to get such a reaction out of Santa. We mumble amongst ourselves wondering. I though the guy looked like a perv, but the other girls were impressed and didn't catch it. I was thinking he was asking for our "cute little princess of a Santa's helper, one of the girls working that day that just didn't realize how attractive she was. I thought, what a jerk, he must know how young she is.

Anyway, we bug Santa long enough for him to give in and tell us.

The Ram's football player that sat on Santa's lap wanted a Petite Blonde, a Sassy Redhead, a Voluptuous Brunette and a Black girl with a Big Booty!

Thank God that wasn't a description that any of us would have filled at the time! Creepy, yet funny and true. From about 1985

[Xwikki]

I was in school one time and it was break, and I had this vanilla yoghurt. I opened it, and I got a facial, and my friends died.

[SamZee]

Bahahah. Welcome back? <3

[operatormike]

One time I dressed up as a Furby for Halloween.

...No...wait...nevermind. I'm not going to disclose any more than I already have.

P.S. I like this thread. You were clearly meant to post it, Sam. One day I shall post a story, for now I have to run.

Peace,
OM

[Xwikki]

Bahahah. Welcome back? <3

Maybe. <3

I'll at least stick around to take out my PMT issues on DM.

[SmileAreSexy]

I was in school one time and it was break, and I had this vanilla yoghurt. I opened it, and I got a facial, and my friends died.

that's happened to me mom like 3 times

@operatormike Like the signature about Obama. Have you had that for a long time or am I just dumb enough not to notice it until now? xS

[SamZee]

'Preciate it, Mike. I know you have a lifetime of great stories and I can't wait to hear them. =]

@Smiles -- Hah, you're not crazy. He's had that for a very long time.

[Xwikki]

Bump!

I can't think of any interesting long stories. But I've always wanted to start off a story with: well this one time I was at band camp. But we don't have band camp here, so that wish will be unfufilled. :/ But I do have a harsh story to tell you all about life.

One time when I was super little, I don't remember much of it because well, I was super little. But I had this motherfucker of an icecream. It was purple. Fucking purple. You just don't get that shit, right? Purple icecream as a child was like, discovering bloody Narnia. And I was just about to take that first lick, and a god damn seagul flew by, and I couldn't do anything, I just couldn't. And it knocked the whole scoop of icecream off. I just wasn't prepared. I couldn't run, couldn't even scream. And afterwards I cried. A lot. And from that day, I realised this world is not a nice place. Things get ruined, and you're this close to tasting the sweetness of them and then they're knocked out of your reach. That is what life is my friends, and there's no way of stopping it. If fate doesn't want it, it's not going to happen.

On the upside, I had a really good sundae the other day when I went out for dinner.

[operatormike]

Vikki, You are hilarious!

Dear Smiles....Yes, I have had that signature for a long time, years. Once I had a half/asleep half/waking vision of Barak Obama's funeral. His coffin was in a public place, either the White House or the Capitol Building. There was a long line of mourners walking by and paying respects...thousands, probably hundreds of thousands. Anyway, I prayed for his safety and posted it here. Three other DM regulars told me that they had similar visions. I believe these kinds of dreams and visions are for our good. It is the future, but only one possible future. We can affect that future, and a lot of people praying is one sure way to do so.

So, here is a true story that happened to me and my family:
One time back in 1993, my wife and I took our six children to the old Cleveland Stadium to watch the Cleveland Indians play. We sat in the bleachers by the outfield. Our kids ages were 15,13,10,8,5 and 3. The three older ones sat and enjoyed the game. The three younger ones were a little antsy. Mama took them to walk around and just came back from a trip with them to the bathroom. Now, they were complaining that they wanted something to drink. She looked at me exhaustedly and told me that it was my turn. So, I took the two younger ones by the hands and told the 8-year old to stay by me. We walked over to the top of the ramp that went down into the concessions and such under the stadium. Right at that moment, something happened on the field. The Indians were up at bat. I think that Albert Bell had hit a double. Whatever it was, we stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs and watched the action. Then, we went down the ramp. There, at the bottom of the ramp, this guy came up to me and talked very fast and excitedly about a picture and painting and something about a contract for the new ballfield that the Indians were building down the street. He had a camera hung around his head and he was lugging a big black bag with a sketch book and some other paraphernalia. It was clear that he was some sort of professional artist. I got the idea that he was a photographer. He said, " I've been looking all day and I think this is the one. I really do. I think this is it." I had no idea what he was talking about. So, I asked him to slow down and explain.

...I will continue this story another day. I am out of time, folks!

Peace,
OM

[SmileAreSexy]

Awww I wanna know now!

[SamZee]

I'm going to tell the story of something that just happened.

So for a million years, I thought your username was SmilesAreSexy. I'd swear up and down that's what it was. How is it not? I feel like I noticed it a long time ago, but then forgot. When I realized again what it is, my brain exploded. This might take me some time to process.

The end.

[operatormike]

Sam and Smile(s)...I thought the same for the same million years! So her name is SmileAreSexy!!

I am processing Smile (are) S (exy)...Smiles still fits!!!

Awww I wanna know now!

OK. I will quote myself then continue:

So, here is a true story that happened to me and my family:
One time back in 1993, my wife and I took our six children to the old Cleveland Stadium to watch the Cleveland Indians play. We sat in the bleachers by the outfield. Our kids ages were 15,13,10,8,5 and 3. The three older ones sat and enjoyed the game. The three younger ones were a little antsy. Mama took them to walk around and just came back from a trip with them to the bathroom. Now, they were complaining that they wanted something to drink. She looked at me exhaustedly and told me that it was my turn. So, I took the two younger ones by the hands and told the 8-year old to stay by me. We walked over to the top of the ramp that went down into the concessions and such under the stadium. Right at that moment, something happened on the field. The Indians were up at bat. I think that Albert Bell had hit a double. Whatever it was, we stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs and watched the action. Then, we went down the ramp. There, at the bottom of the ramp, this guy came up to me and talked very fast and excitedly about a picture and painting and something about a contract for the new ballfield that the Indians were building down the street. He had a camera hung around his head and he was lugging a big black bag with a sketch book and some other paraphernalia. It was clear that he was some sort of professional artist. I got the idea that he was a photographer. He said, " I've been looking all day and I think this is the one. I really do. I think this is it." I had no idea what he was talking about. So, I asked him to slow down and explain.

He explained that the Cleveland Indians Ballclub had invited him and a few other local artists to come and spend the day at the ballfield. They were given access to everything...the club house, locker room, dug out, the field while they were practicing, everything! He said that the paintings they did would be like a mural at the new ball field that they were building. (It was completed the next year. It was called Jacobs Field after the owner, but now is called Progressive Field after the major sponsor.)

His name was Daniel, I hadn't remembered his last name. He brought a camera and a sketchbook. This was an exciting time in Cleveland. We had put together a great line-up of players..Kenny Lofton, Albert Bell, Jim Thome, Carlos Baerga, Sandy Alomar, Omar Vizquel, Orel Herschieser, Charlie Nagy, Jose Mesa...and the list goes on. This guy was allowed to get up close and personal. He snapped shots and did sketches of these guys practicing before the game. He explained that the photographs were to become paintings. I had the idea that he worked for another artist that would do the final work.

He explained that a lot of the shots and sketches that he got that day were not so great. Just players doing there thing...sort of like baseball card photos...mundane, trite. He was not inspired. But he had taken a photo of me and my children at the top of the ramp watching the action on the field. He captured a moment of my life in that camera of his. This was inspirational to him. He said there were a couple other inspirational shots that he had captured which also inspired him. One was a bunch of teenagers leaning over the dug out before the game and talking to the players. Some of them were getting their baseball cards signed by the players. He found that scene a classic slice of Americana. The other was an older couple sitting and watching the game. The guy lifted his glass and some beer spilled as he toasted a good play on the field. The photo of my little family completed what he was looking for..he explained. He felt his quest was fulfilled.

He asked me for my permission to have this painting displayed at the new ball field. I told him that I would be honored. He told me his name, which as time passed, I forgot. But he also took my phone number. He said he would call me with details of how to find the painting at the new ball field when the painting was finished. He warned it could take months. We got some lemonade and cracker jacks and nachos with cheese. We went back and told Mama the story. She was as excited as we were.

So every year, we went to at least one Indians game in the new ball field. Back then, you had to buy tickets in October to get a seat for the following season! Each year, we would sit in a different section and walk the stands looking for that painting. There are murals all along the walkways. They seem more generic pictures of ballplayers and fans than what we were looking for, but we figured it has got to be there somewhere. So year after year, we searched for it...with no luck.

Then in 2007, an odd string of random circumstances led to an exciting discovery...

But alas, I am once again out of time. More another day, sports fans!

Peace,
OM

[KRSTYSTLCLR]

awww OM, you have me hanging by the edge of my seat! Can't wait to hear the ending.

[Brake4Wind]

Wow OM- the most heart-warming slice of Americana in art sounds like Norman Rockwell but his work was mostly in the 40's and 50's. One of the greatest but it couldn't be him. I'm anxious to find out who the artist might be!

Lol Krsty at that huge Rams football player sitting in Santa's lap! Actually, that sounds like a great photo!

Good one Smiles! I did something similar as a kid. There was a steep muddy hill and we slid down it riding a big piece of cardboard- gaining speed as we came down the hill- Whoopee! Problem is that we kept sliding into the middle of the road. A man driving down the road slammed on his brakes and was so shaken- so furious with us: Wow- I thought he was gonna kill us with his bare hands for almost causing him to kill us with his car!

[Soulkiss333]

I grew up with lots of brothers(3) and sisters(8), I am number 11 out of 12.

So, we fought a lot.
My youngest brother is a little older than me, when I was 5 he made me eat a slug, those big brown fat ones. So, I later got some of my sisters and I put peanut butter in clumps in the toilet and we told him it was my poop and stuck his head in the toilet and made him eat it.

My sister got hit my a car and was knock off her bike and had a big bump on her head. She got to stay home from school for a couple of days to rest. I told her she would die if she fell asleep. She at one point tape her eyes open and my step-mom ask her why she wouldnt sleep (for almost 2 days at this point) and she told on me. I got in so much trouble. (I was getting her back for sitting me in a huge red ant pile (those foot high ant piles), which I had many bites from, it hurt a lot).

[operatormike]

I am never going to cross you, Soul Kiss!!! You were quite a spunky child. I am the fourth of nine, so I sort of know how it is; seven sisters, one bro.

B4W, I am going to withhold the artists last name, unless I speak with him and get his permission. He is not known outside of Cleveland, but he is an excellent artist. In fact, I think I will name him Daniel Norman, out of respect for Norman Rockwell.

However, my fans are anxiously awaiting the story, so without further ado, we return you to the story in progress....

OK. I will quote myself then continue:

operatormike wrote:So, here is a true story that happened to me and my family:
One time back in 1993, my wife and I took our six children to the old Cleveland Stadium to watch the Cleveland Indians play. We sat in the bleachers by the outfield. Our kids ages were 15,13,10,8,5 and 3. The three older ones sat and enjoyed the game. The three younger ones were a little antsy. Mama took them to walk around and just came back from a trip with them to the bathroom. Now, they were complaining that they wanted something to drink. She looked at me exhaustedly and told me that it was my turn. So, I took the two younger ones by the hands and told the 8-year old to stay by me. We walked over to the top of the ramp that went down into the concessions and such under the stadium. Right at that moment, something happened on the field. The Indians were up at bat. I think that Albert Bell had hit a double. Whatever it was, we stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs and watched the action. Then, we went down the ramp. There, at the bottom of the ramp, this guy came up to me and talked very fast and excitedly about a picture and painting and something about a contract for the new ballfield that the Indians were building down the street. He had a camera hung around his head and he was lugging a big black bag with a sketch book and some other paraphernalia. It was clear that he was some sort of professional artist. I got the idea that he was a photographer. He said, " I've been looking all day and I think this is the one. I really do. I think this is it." I had no idea what he was talking about. So, I asked him to slow down and explain.

He explained that the Cleveland Indians Ballclub had invited him and a few other local artists to come and spend the day at the ballfield. They were given access to everything...the club house, locker room, dug out, the field while they were practicing, everything! He said that the paintings they did would be like a mural at the new ball field that they were building. (It was completed the next year. It was called Jacobs Field after the owner, but now is called Progressive Field after the major sponsor.)

His name was Daniel, I hadn't remembered his last name. He brought a camera and a sketchbook. This was an exciting time in Cleveland. We had put together a great line-up of players..Kenny Lofton, Albert Bell, Jim Thome, Carlos Baerga, Sandy Alomar, Omar Vizquel, Orel Herschieser, Charlie Nagy, Jose Mesa...and the list goes on. This guy was allowed to get up close and personal. He snapped shots and did sketches of these guys practicing before the game. He explained that the photographs were to become paintings. I had the idea that he worked for another artist that would do the final work.

He explained that a lot of the shots and sketches that he got that day were not so great. Just players doing there thing...sort of like baseball card photos...mundane, trite. He was not inspired. But he had taken a photo of me and my children at the top of the ramp watching the action on the field. He captured a moment of my life in that camera of his. This was inspirational to him. He said there were a couple other inspirational shots that he had captured which also inspired him. One was a bunch of teenagers leaning over the dug out before the game and talking to the players. Some of them were getting their baseball cards signed by the players. He found that scene a classic slice of Americana. The other was an older couple sitting and watching the game. The guy lifted his glass and some beer spilled as he toasted a good play on the field. The photo of my little family completed what he was looking for..he explained. He felt his quest was fulfilled.

He asked me for my permission to have this painting displayed at the new ball field. I told him that I would be honored. He told me his name, which as time passed, I forgot. But he also took my phone number. He said he would call me with details of how to find the painting at the new ball field when the painting was finished. He warned it could take months. We got some lemonade and cracker jacks and nachos with cheese. We went back and told Mama the story. She was as excited as we were.

So every year, we went to at least one Indians game in the new ball field. Back then, you had to buy tickets in October to get a seat for the following season! Each year, we would sit in a different section and walk the stands looking for that painting. There are murals all along the walkways. They seem more generic pictures of ballplayers and fans than what we were looking for, but we figured it has got to be there somewhere. So year after year, we searched for it...with no luck.

Then in 2007, an odd string of random circumstances led to an exciting discovery...

We had a problem with one of our children that required a heart monitor with a strip chart. (Everything is ok with that issue now, thanks for asking.) So, I needed to go visit the cardiologist's office. It was on the second floor of some Cleveland Clinic offices near me. Now, I have visited this Cleveland Clinic since it was built in 1999, that would be for 8 years in 2007. But this time, I was visiting a cardiologist. An old-timer like me wanted to tell the heart doctor that I took the stairs to the second floor. (For those past 8 years, I had always taken the elevator.)

So, I approached the stairway. I admired a large painting at the bottom of the stairs. It was a lot of vines hanging from a tree like in the Louisiana bayou, only lots of purples an golds and greens. I turned on one landing and looked up to another. At the top of that landing there was another painting. It was a man with children at a baseball game. As I approached, my thoughts hearkened back to when my Dad took me to the Cleveland Stadium. I studied the top of the building and the lights and was excited to realize that it was the old Cleveland Stadium. (At that time, it had been demolished and replaced with the new Browns Stadium. The Indians ball field is down the street from there.) Then, halfway up the stairs, I stopped dead in my tracks...IT WAS US!!! I recognized the curly locks of my youngest daughter's hair, the girls' matching jackets, the clenched fists of my son as he stood on tippy toe to see the action on the baseball field. IT WAS US!!! I HAD FOUND THE PAINTING!!! It was right in front of me. I walked closer and closer gazing in amazement. After fourteen years, here it was in front of me. It took me back to that day. This man had truly captured a moment of my life on canvas. It was surreal. And there in the bottom corner, as the artist's name and date; Daniel Norman 1999. It was about four feet by four feet big.

I called my wife and told her. She could hardly believe it.

I went to the cardiologist's desk and requested the charts that I needed. I had to wait, so I turned around and saw another painting on the wall. It was about 8 feet across and 4 feet high. It was a picture of some people playing a casual pick-up game of baseball. The baseball was in focus on the way to the batter, while the rest of the scene was slightly blurred. It gave the illusion of the ball sailing through the air. There were people in the background sitting on a picnic table cheering the players on; not on the bench of the table, on the table top with their feet on the bench. It was signed Daniel Norman 1999!

As fate would have it, I needed to go pick up my son from his job at the mall. The mall was right next to the Cleveland Clinic offices! He was the son in the painting. He had been 8 then, but now he was 22 years old. I told him that I had something to show him. He bugged me to tell him what is was. All I told him is that it was in the Cleveland Clinic and he would recognize it when he saw it.
We walked toward the steps and I commented on the painting at the bottom. He said it was nice, then as we turned, he vocalized a very similar thought process to my own. First he said, "Hey, I think that is the old stadium." Then I swear on the very same middle step, he stopped cold and exclaimed, "IT"S US!" "Yes", i said, "Can you believe it." "It's that painting that we have been looking for all these years!" We celebrated and looked close at it. We laughed and carried on. He asked if I had told Mom and was disappointed that he couldn't surprise her the way I did with him....Eventually, of course, all of my family came to see it. We took pictures standing in front of it and had a great time....

And here it is:


But, even though we had finally discovered the painting, we had lots of questions:
Where was Daniel Norman, could we contact him?
Why hadn't he called?
What happened to the idea of the painting being at the Indians ballfield?
Why was it painted in 1999, when that photograph was snapped in 1993?

So, I went home and Googled Daniel Norman. I got something like 2,000,000 hits. One of them was a catcher for the Long Island Sand Gnats childrens team...could it be???? NO, this kid was 8 last year. So, I tried Daniel Norman, Artist. One of the hits was the Director of the Art Department of a local high school. It was an article from 2003 written by a student newspaper editor. (That is one of the random coincidences that I had cited earlier.) Now That sounded promising; Art Director So, I called. I asked for Daniel Norman, half expecting he didn't work there or they wouldn't allow me to speak with him...then the receptionist said, "Oh, Dan Norman, let me put you through!" All of a sudden it became real. I got his voicemail and left a message starting, "You don't know me, but a long time ago you painted me and my kids..."

So, sports fan's tomorrow: Daniel's story!

Peace,
OM

[operatormike]

Welcome to the future. It is now tomorrow!!!

First, I posted a thread about the Chief Wahoo controversy. Here is a link:
Is Chief Wahoo disrespectful to Indians? I would especially be interested in opinions from those of my friend here who have Native American roots, like Soul Kiss and RP!

So, as promised Daniel's story:

operatormike wrote:OK. I will quote myself then continue:

operatormike wrote:So, here is a true story that happened to me and my family:
One time back in 1993, my wife and I took our six children to the old Cleveland Stadium to watch the Cleveland Indians play. We sat in the bleachers by the outfield. Our kids ages were 15,13,10,8,5 and 3. The three older ones sat and enjoyed the game. The three younger ones were a little antsy. Mama took them to walk around and just came back from a trip with them to the bathroom. Now, they were complaining that they wanted something to drink. She looked at me exhaustedly and told me that it was my turn. So, I took the two younger ones by the hands and told the 8-year old to stay by me. We walked over to the top of the ramp that went down into the concessions and such under the stadium. Right at that moment, something happened on the field. The Indians were up at bat. I think that Albert Bell had hit a double. Whatever it was, we stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs and watched the action. Then, we went down the ramp. There, at the bottom of the ramp, this guy came up to me and talked very fast and excitedly about a picture and painting and something about a contract for the new ballfield that the Indians were building down the street. He had a camera hung around his head and he was lugging a big black bag with a sketch book and some other paraphernalia. It was clear that he was some sort of professional artist. I got the idea that he was a photographer. He said, " I've been looking all day and I think this is the one. I really do. I think this is it." I had no idea what he was talking about. So, I asked him to slow down and explain.

He explained that the Cleveland Indians Ballclub had invited him and a few other local artists to come and spend the day at the ballfield. They were given access to everything...the club house, locker room, dug out, the field while they were practicing, everything! He said that the paintings they did would be like a mural at the new ball field that they were building. (It was completed the next year. It was called Jacobs Field after the owner, but now is called Progressive Field after the major sponsor.)

His name was Daniel, I hadn't remembered his last name. He brought a camera and a sketchbook. This was an exciting time in Cleveland. We had put together a great line-up of players..Kenny Lofton, Albert Bell, Jim Thome, Carlos Baerga, Sandy Alomar, Omar Vizquel, Orel Herschieser, Charlie Nagy, Jose Mesa...and the list goes on. This guy was allowed to get up close and personal. He snapped shots and did sketches of these guys practicing before the game. He explained that the photographs were to become paintings. I had the idea that he worked for another artist that would do the final work.

He explained that a lot of the shots and sketches that he got that day were not so great. Just players doing there thing...sort of like baseball card photos...mundane, trite. He was not inspired. But he had taken a photo of me and my children at the top of the ramp watching the action on the field. He captured a moment of my life in that camera of his. This was inspirational to him. He said there were a couple other inspirational shots that he had captured which also inspired him. One was a bunch of teenagers leaning over the dug out before the game and talking to the players. Some of them were getting their baseball cards signed by the players. He found that scene a classic slice of Americana. The other was an older couple sitting and watching the game. The guy lifted his glass and some beer spilled as he toasted a good play on the field. The photo of my little family completed what he was looking for..he explained. He felt his quest was fulfilled.

He asked me for my permission to have this painting displayed at the new ball field. I told him that I would be honored. He told me his name, which as time passed, I forgot. But he also took my phone number. He said he would call me with details of how to find the painting at the new ball field when the painting was finished. He warned it could take months. We got some lemonade and cracker jacks and nachos with cheese. We went back and told Mama the story. She was as excited as we were.

So every year, we went to at least one Indians game in the new ball field. Back then, you had to buy tickets in October to get a seat for the following season! Each year, we would sit in a different section and walk the stands looking for that painting. There are murals all along the walkways. They seem more generic pictures of ballplayers and fans than what we were looking for, but we figured it has got to be there somewhere. So year after year, we searched for it...with no luck.

Then in 2007, an odd string of random circumstances led to an exciting discovery...

We had a problem with one of our children that required a heart monitor with a strip chart. (Everything is ok with that issue now, thanks for asking.) So, I needed to go visit the cardiologist's office. It was on the second floor of some Cleveland Clinic offices near me. Now, I have visited this Cleveland Clinic since it was built in 1999, that would be for 8 years in 2007. But this time, I was visiting a cardiologist. An old-timer like me wanted to tell the heart doctor that I took the stairs to the second floor. (For those past 8 years, I had always taken the elevator.)

So, I approached the stairway. I admired a large painting at the bottom of the stairs. It was a lot of vines hanging from a tree like in the Louisiana bayou, only lots of purples an golds and greens. I turned on one landing and looked up to another. At the top of that landing there was another painting. It was a man with children at a baseball game. As I approached, my thoughts hearkened back to when my Dad took me to the Cleveland Stadium. I studied the top of the building and the lights and was excited to realize that it was the old Cleveland Stadium. (At that time, it had been demolished and replaced with the new Browns Stadium. The Indians ball field is down the street from there.) Then, halfway up the stairs, I stopped dead in my tracks...IT WAS US!!! I recognized the curly locks of my youngest daughter's hair, the girls' matching jackets, the clenched fists of my son as he stood on tippy toe to see the action on the baseball field. IT WAS US!!! I HAD FOUND THE PAINTING!!! It was right in front of me. I walked closer and closer gazing in amazement. After fourteen years, here it was in front of me. It took me back to that day. This man had truly captured a moment of my life on canvas. It was surreal. And there in the bottom corner, as the artist's name and date; Daniel Norman 1999. It was about four feet by four feet big.

I called my wife and told her. She could hardly believe it.

I went to the cardiologist's desk and requested the charts that I needed. I had to wait, so I turned around and saw another painting on the wall. It was about 8 feet across and 4 feet high. It was a picture of some people playing a casual pick-up game of baseball. The baseball was in focus on the way to the batter, while the rest of the scene was slightly blurred. It gave the illusion of the ball sailing through the air. There were people in the background sitting on a picnic table cheering the players on; not on the bench of the table, on the table top with their feet on the bench. It was signed Daniel Norman 1999!

As fate would have it, I needed to go pick up my son from his job at the mall. The mall was right next to the Cleveland Clinic offices! He was the son in the painting. He had been 8 then, but now he was 22 years old. I told him that I had something to show him. He bugged me to tell him what is was. All I told him is that it was in the Cleveland Clinic and he would recognize it when he saw it.
We walked toward the steps and I commented on the painting at the bottom. He said it was nice, then as we turned, he vocalized a very similar thought process to my own. First he said, "Hey, I think that is the old stadium." Then I swear on the very same middle step, he stopped cold and exclaimed, "IT"S US!" "Yes", i said, "Can you believe it." "It's that painting that we have been looking for all these years!" We celebrated and looked close at it. We laughed and carried on. He asked if I had told Mom and was disappointed that he couldn't surprise her the way I did with him....Eventually, of course, all of my family came to see it. We took pictures standing in front of it and had a great time....

And here it is:
Image

But, even though we had finally discovered the painting, we had lots of questions:
Where was Daniel Norman, could we contact him?
Why hadn't he called?
What happened to the idea of the painting being at the Indians ballfield?
Why was it painted in 1999, when that photograph was snapped in 1993?

So, I went home and Googled Daniel Norman. I got something like 2,000,000 hits. One of them was a catcher for the Long Island Sand Gnats childrens team...could it be???? NO, this kid was 8 last year. So, I tried Daniel Norman, Artist. One of the hits was the Director of the Art Department of a local high school. It was an article from 2003 written by a student newspaper editor. (That is one of the random coincidences that I had cited earlier.) Now That sounded promising; Art Director So, I called. I asked for Daniel Norman, half expecting he didn't work there or they wouldn't allow me to speak with him...then the receptionist said, "Oh, Dan Norman, let me put you through!" All of a sudden it became real. I got his voicemail and left a message starting, "You don't know me, but a long time ago you painted me and my kids..."

So, sports fan's tomorrow: Daniel's story!

Daniel Norman called me back around 4:00 pm that day after his school day had ended. We spoke for about 45 minutes. We were both so happy to reconnect after our original short but serendipitous meeting fourteen years earlier. He told me that he knew who I was when he heard the words "You don't know me, but.... That was all it took. I found out that he was the artist, not just a photographer working for an artist. So I asked him all of those questions:

Why hadn't he called?
What happened to the idea of the painting being at the Indians ballfield?
Why was it painted in 1999, when that photograph was snapped in 1993?

He recounted the story from his perspective:
The Cleveland Indians had contacted him and a very short list of other local artists to come to the old Municipal Stadium and find some inspiration for a set of paintings for the new ballfield. They were to be three 10-foot by 10-foot paintings hung next to each other on the back wall of the new Club Lounge. (The front wall is windows overlooking the field.) It was a competition of sorts. Whichever paintings the managers of the Indians liked the best, would be given a contract to paint them.

He got all sorts of shots and sketches of the ball players, but was uninspired. He grew up with baseball, just like I did. He played on a corner sand lot with the neighborhood kids growing up, just like I did. He experienced that magical feeling when his parents brought him to his first Cleveland Indians game, just like I did. He was trying to capture THAT! Then he began to roam the stands, he saw those kids hanging out by the dug-out before the game. He saw the excitement on their faces. He captured the moment when one boy handed his trading card to the Player! It was magical, that was IT! One of the boys had a Browns jacket on...a football jacket at a baseball game! You just can't dream up that kind of down to earth detail. This was really Cleveland, Ohio. Then he saw the older couple enjoying the game. He watched them for a while and snapped a few shots. When the old guy lifted his beer glass and spilled some as he cheered, he caught it. Again, the magic, the feeling of a real fan..he mused that they must have been coming for years...must have been like those kids...and like me! Then, he searched for something to tie it all together. When he snapped that photo of me and my kids, it all came rushing together...the life of a fan: First, that youthful excitement...then when you grow up and have children...you bring them and hand on the legacy of magical excitement to them...then later when those children have grown and have lives and children of their own, you come to the ballpark with your wife and enjoy the game, the nostalgia, the moment, all of it!!!!

He envisioned the three paintings next to each other, something that artists call a triptych. The curve of the railings in each picture would look like a continuation of the adjoining ones. The young kids would be to the right, my family in the center, then the older couple to the left. He did mock-ups in acrylic paint on poster board for his presentation. The final version was to be oil on canvas. He was very excited and hopeful. Alas, they rejected his concept and went with another artist. He was very upset.

They called him when the selected artist had hung his work in the Club Lounge out of respect and courtesy. He reasoned, "Well I know my concept was really great: I captured the feeling of a baseball fan! So, the one who was selected must be fantastic." He went and viewed the paintings.
"They were just like trading cards", he told me. There was nothing that special about them. He had similar photos and sketches that he had rejected because they were so mundane.

He became even more upset... and depressed. He purposefully stacked paintings in front of the mock-ups that were against a wall in his studio. He threw out the box of paraphernalia that included my phone number. He tried to wipe the whole thing from his consciousness.

Then, six years later in 1999, he got a call from an official at the Cleveland Clinic. Her job was to procure artwork for new facilities that they were building. They were offering some substantial money for the work, so he wanted to do it. He asked her what specifically did she want. She responded, "Oh we need to cover a 4-foot by 4-foot space and an 8-foot by 4-foot space..and a list of such dimensions." He replied that he was grateful for that information, but he meant what subject matter. She said, "Oh, whatever you would like to paint." He told me that he doesn't work that way. He needs to have something to go on; something to inspire him. He discussed it with his wife. She said,"Honey, how about all that baseball stuff that you were so excited about." He had done more sketches and work than just those three that i mentioned. Those three were just the ones that made the final cut. So he dug it all up and got re-inspired and re-excited. The painting of the folks playing baseball by the cardiologists office had been in his neighbor's backyard! He had a collection of sketches and photos and mock-ups. He touched the brush to the canvas to actually paint them for the first time in 1999. Then, he shipped them to the Clinic and never saw them again. They talked about displaying them at a new facility in Florida and maybe locally. He was not informed what went where.

Then, another eight years later, in 2007, he got my voice mail. He did not know that his work was displayed locally. He was ecstatic that I had actually found it. It was the only time in his life when the subject person of his painting contacted him. He invited me to come to his studio with my children. I gratefully accepted the offer.

When we were to meet, there would be more magical excitement.....which I will tell you another day. Good night for now, kids. Sleep tight. God's blessings on you.

peace,
OM

[KRSTYSTLCLR]

Awww, OM, that was a great story. Beautifully told. I love the painting BTW. Thank you for sharing that bit of your history.

[Brake4Wind]

That's a wonderful painting OM- too bad the artist is so shy; his work is good. Thanks for the story and photo behind the story- Yey for Mr. Norman and the slice of Americana.

Lol Soulkiss at the peanut butter story! I once got so mad at my cousin, I replaced a sample box of chocolate with chocolate covered laxative that I knew he would gobble up.

[operatormike]

Thanks and Your Welcome Krysty and B4W,

I am never accepting chocolate from you, B4W!

Here is the epilogue:

So one day, me and my grown children went to see Daniel Norman at his studio. I wore the same Chief Wahoo hat that I had worn in the painting. When my youngest daughter, now17 years old stepped out of the car, Dan was there to meet us. He said, "I recognize those curly locks." He had meticulously painted them eight years earlier. He showed us all sorts of artwork that he had done. He had a barn in his backyard that was his studio.

He showed us the actual mock-up of our painting that he had presented to the Cleveland Indians 14 years previous. He also showed us the one of the kids over the dug-out. He had misplaced the one of the old folks. They were really cool. They were 3 foot square acrylic paint on poster board.

Then after we had spent a couple of hours there and enjoyed his company and hospitality and we were getting ready to leave. He said, "One more thing! I would like you to have the mock-up painting of your family." We graciously accepted. We hung it in our living room above our fireplace mantel. It is a great keepsake.
Here is my family gathered for Christmas,
I am in the front with diamond shapes on my sweater.
Notice in the background on the wall:

Peace,
OM

[The Kid In The Hat]

Once a Panda with a Ping Pong Paddle Duct Taped to each hand. He smacked me with both paddles and it felt like 9,001 sharp needles pinning into my cheeks. He chased after me and I got scared, so I ran away and he called me Johnny. But, my name is The Kid in the Hat, so I said that was my name and then.......Oh, wait. That was a dream. XD

[starreborn]

ever had a dream that felt like more than just a dream, like there was more to it than just some message from your subconscious?

several years ago, when i was about 12, i had one that just stuck with me and remains a mystery to me to this day. actually, it was more like a series of dreams. it was about moving to an odd little yellow house, one which made me very uneasy, and several references to the number three. i even felt compelled to paint a pic of it, though i never finished it. at some point after having the first dream, it somehow came up in a conversation with a friend of mine. after describing the house in vivid detail, she told me she knew the house i was talking about. she had said that some time prior to moving into the house she was living in at the time, her family went to look at a house for sale that matched the description of the house in my dream. she said that some woman died there too. looking back, it is quite possible that she was just playing with me, but i don't know. we were pretty close friends at the time. she had said she wanted for me to go see it, but unfortunately i never got the chance. for all i know it might exist, my friend thought the house she saw was the one i dreamt about, or she may have been trying to pull my leg. it is something i still wonder about to this day. it is possible, though. something very similar to this happened to my dad. he had had a dream about a house that he claimed to have never seen in his waking like, and described the house to a friend of his in vivid detail. to my dad's astonishment, his friend said he knew the house he was describing. my dad was driven by that house, and it happened to be for sale. he bought it, and i spent a good part of my childhood in that house.

whether or not the house in my dream was real, the dream did have some semi-prophetic qualities to it. my mom and brother were in the dream, but my dad was not. the dream occurred about 3 or so months prior to my mom, brother, and i moving out after my parents' splitting up. i had asked what the name of the street was, and after walking a long dark road, discovered it was "three." so yeah, about three months down the road from having the dream, most of my family was moving. the long dark road may have been symbolic of my own personal struggles i would face later on (i did have problems with major depression/anxiety for a long while, and still have my moments albeit less severe). in the dream were three men, one of which was my mom's BF/husband in the dream. he drove a truck, and although i don't remember if it was red or blue, oddly enough my mom would eventually be in serious relationships with three men who all drove red trucks. what really made me nervous about the house was when i suddenly saw three large pentagrams appear on the house, and i was the only one to see them. perhaps that had to do with my eventual loss of faith/rebellion against religion (not that i was really a spiritual/religious person to begin with).

i did have two other odd dreams about this house with weird connections to my waking life. if anyone wants to know, i'll share.

[operatormike]

Yes Starry, share. Either here or in a PM.

I just wanted to say that sometimes dreams are prophetic or premonitions...to me this means that you are in a very special place...the yogas call it the third eye, the sixth chakra...it is a place where you are in touch with the divine.

Sometimes, we just get a glimpse of the future..like I had this alligator dream, and I posted it here and got some real good interpretation (back when endelbendel and bsmonkey were still around) ..anyway the alligator was like a tan khaki color, never imagined an alligator like that. A couple days later, I saw that alligator on the news in Africa. This reminded me of the dream. By this time I had processed the information and was more in touch with the formerly unconscious emotions that I had to work out. This was the purpose of the glimpse of premonition. it's like "someone" or something knew that by the time I watch the news, I would be ready to process that information.

Another time, I had a premonition of my mother in law's death. She died several months later. The weird thing was that my wife, one of my daughters and a neighbor boy all had similar dreams within a week or two of mine.....then out of everyone who visited her...we four were the ones in the room when she woke into her new life (died, ok?)

There were several events in my dream of my mother in law. One was a green car being hit by a white truck...later it happened in front of our house...this reminded me of the dream and caused me to grieve...Another was my wife and I walking a two mile path, when we actually did it, I remembered the dream again. Each time, I grieved a little, by the time that she died, I was emotionally ready. This was the purpose of the dream...especially of the glimpses of the future within the dream.

Peace,
OM

[starreborn]

Yes Starry, share.

several months passed before i had the second dream. at the time my mom, brother, and i were living in an apartment.

in this dream, i was inside the house. there was a big window in the living room, and my mom was looking out, admiring a beautiful house off in the distance and talking about it. later my mom's husband/BF/whatever was cleaning that window and was mumbling angrily. al off a sudden, the window just shatters all over him. we were looking at his abdomen and saw three really weird cuts that were somewhat demonic in shape (though i forget exactly what they looked like). when i woke up and was getting ready for school, i noticed a strange rash across my abdomen. it definitely wasn't pressure marks. it wasn't painful or anything, and it did go away fairly quickly, but it was still a bit weird.

now, the third dream. but before i tell that one....

i was talking to my brother and his friend mike about this series of dreams i had, and even showed them the incomplete painting. mike picked it up and was saying that he could feel a strong evil/negative energy, specifically on the side of the house. now, he could have been pulling my leg. who knows. however, that is the part of the house where, in the dream, the pentagrams appeared. so, the third dream...

i was with my mom, this guy, and i think his kid, in the apartment i was living in at the time. in this dream, the apartment was empty because we were moving into the house. as we were standing in the dining area, i suddenly hear a female voice (a spirit?) telling me that i needed to get out fast. i did, and the next thing i know, i am standing near the road, watching our apartment complex going up in flames. then i hear i news report on the radio, talking about how the fire was started by a small white candle that was kept in a bedroom on the first floor.

when i recalled that last bit of the dream, mike's eyes got really wide. little did i know, he said he kept a small white candle in his bedroom, and he said he was gonna get rid of it after hearing me tell this dream. and yeah, he lived in the apartment below us.

[operatormike]

Dear Starry,

Great dream stories!!! You very likely prevented your apartment from burning down. You were given gifts in your dreams; glimpses of the future. In my opinion, we can sometimes see the future...but, it is like Scrooge asked the Spirit of Christmas Yet to come: “Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point,” said Scrooge, “answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that will be, or are they shadows of things that may be, only?”

Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood.

“Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,” said Scrooge. “But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!”

And in an epiphany in which he understands the changes that the visits of the three spirits have wrought in him, Scrooge exclaims:

"I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope! ... I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”

I think that Charles Dickens understood a truth about premonitions. They are warnings about a future that could be if we are not careful..if we do not make some necessary change....

Peace,
OM

[CrazyDreamsGirl]

This probably seems really boring, but it meant alot to me, because people don't usually stick up for me and I'm usually left on my own. It happened last year.

It was art, my FAVORITE class, and I was sitting with my best friend Zac, Zac's best friend Harrison and a boy called Angus who I now hate as of that day (I'm a girl, don't ask why I was sitting with nothing but boys in art - I didn't have many friends who were girls last year). So I was my normal, loud, humourous self. When me and Zac sat at a table together in art, we were probably the loudest in the room, But we didn't care - we were too busy laughing joking around as we did our projects. Mrs Bird (our art teacher) doesn't mind, she's really nice and art is one of the classes where I can be loud and be myself and not be yelled at. So anyway, Zac, Harrison and I were joking around as usual... Or was Lauren sitting with us instead of Harrison? Either way, they weren't important in this story. Angus seemed... Grumpier... Than usual and kept telling us to shut up and that we were annoying. We didn't listen - Angus always seems to think he is too good for schoolwork, and 99% of the school (including teachers) and he has that know-it-all attitude. We were drawing something, I'm pretty sure it was a vase with flowers, or a teaset of some kind (we had a choice). So I was laughing and I made a mistake on my teacup. As I was in my ridiculously silly mood, I turned to Angus and said "Were's the rubber, Angus what'd you do with the rubber?" Of course, if he had a heart he would see I was just joking. Angus doesn't have a heart as far as I'm concerned... And judging by the weird sounds he made in class last year (he moved to QLD ) I think he thinks that he's a vampire or zombie or something. So as I was saying, he said "I don't have it! Maybe you have it but your just to LAZY to get up and get it! Everyone knows your too lazy to do sport!" Instantly my spirits sank and my smile was gone from my face. I looked around and saw the rubber on the floor behind Angus. I got up and grabbed it, dragging my feet. As I walked back to my seat I caught Zac looking at me and noticed his smile was gone too. He probably saw the 'omg I'm gonna cry' look on my face. I sat down and our table was quiet a few seconds, then Zac said what half the school was afraid to do. He said "Angus you calling HER fat? Look at YOU!" Although that wasn't what Angus said, instantly I felt a smile come to my face. "I didn't say she was fat I said she was lazy" Angus said, So I said "I'm not lazy, I have ankle and feet problems, and my foot doctor gave me a note excusing me from sport, I'm not lazy my ankles hurt!" That was the truth.

For the final 2 weeks of school, Angus and I fought and I would have punched him in the face if I didn't have a perfect reputation with the teachers. He said thing like "Stop PRETENDING to be depressed Miss Wanna-be emo!" I do get depressed, but I never pretend to be depressed. I was happy when he said that, the know-it-all just wouldn't accept it

[operatormike]

Hi Crazy Dreams Girl,

That was not boring at all. It was heart-warming how Zac stood up for you. Ummm, I googled QLD and got Queensland...I don't get the reference. (I am a 55 year old man, though.) Are you from down under somewhere?

My is...you should always try to resolve conflicts, even if the other person is a jerkwad, like Angus apparently is...I know it is not always easy, or even possible. Glad to see that you got your happiness back, thank Zac again. I think i like that kid!

Peace,
OM

[CeciliaMystic]

Bump!

I can't think of any interesting long stories. But I've always wanted to start off a story with: well this one time I was at band camp. But we don't have band camp here, so that wish will be unfufilled. :/ But I do have a harsh story to tell you all about life.

One time when I was super little, I don't remember much of it because well, I was super little. But I had this motherfucker of an icecream. It was purple. Fucking purple. You just don't get that shit, right? Purple icecream as a child was like, discovering bloody Narnia. And I was just about to take that first lick, and a god damn seagul flew by, and I couldn't do anything, I just couldn't. And it knocked the whole scoop of icecream off. I just wasn't prepared. I couldn't run, couldn't even scream. And afterwards I cried. A lot. And from that day, I realised this world is not a nice place. Things get ruined, and you're this close to tasting the sweetness of them and then they're knocked out of your reach. That is what life is my friends, and there's no way of stopping it. If fate doesn't want it, it's not going to happen.

On the upside, I had a really good sundae the other day when I went out for dinner.

LoLz i never seen a purple ice cream before but im pretty sure its gross.

But cool story...

[tropicalheatwave]

here is a zen story i got from a book. its about YOU.

the story is about a man who went through mountains to find the end of the world. he must have been a great philosopher because philosophers are known to have such crazy ideas. he left his family, children, wife, parents and went on this crazy mad search to find the end of the world. he passed many mountains, many seas. it was a long journey, naturally very, very long and many times he would deceive himself. but sooner or later, after a great rest, he wold start seeing things again and the idea would start persisting again: the end has not yet come because he could still see further ahead, the horizon was still there as far away as before. so he would commence his journey again.

again and again he found that whenever he thought he had arrived he deceived himself. once he knew the deception, the self deception, the journey became more arduous. he would sometimes feel that he arrived but would know deep down that it was going to be a deception. on his way he passed many temples and many teachers, people who claimed to have arrived. they all said that this was the end of the world, where he was going? and he would believe them and would stay with them for a time but sooner or later he would become disillusioned. they had not come to the very end themselves, these teachers. and these temples were just again symbols of the tiredness of man, of human limitations, limitations of mind, reason, and feelings. so he started his pilgrimage again.

and after many many years he finally came to a place that looked like the end. and this time he was not tired, and not in any way deceiving himself. moreover, there was no temple, no teacher, he was absolutely alone. the horizon had disappeared. there was no further goal. even if he wanted to continue there was nowhere to go. he encountered infinite emptiness. of course there was a sign saying THIS IS THE END OF THE WORLD. the man was standing on the very edge of the world. a great cliff beyond which there was nothing but chaos, nothing but nothingness, a tremendous emptiness, zero. of course he became very frightened. he was not expecting this. he could not take another step. he was trembling in fear. he became so frightened that he escaped back to the world and into the world. he didn't even look at the other side of the sign. on one side it says: THIS IS THE END OF THE WORLD and on the other side it says: THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE OTHER. but he was too frightened. he escaped and never looked back. he came back into the world and lost himself into worldly affairs so that he no longer remembered. so that dangerous cliff came into his dreams no more.

[operatormike]

Wow, that is deep, Tropi!

Did you write that or find it somewhere?

Also, I have an alternate ending:

and after many many years he finally came to a place that looked like the end. and this time he was not tired, and not in any way deceiving himself. moreover, there was no temple, no teacher, he was absolutely alone. the horizon had disappeared. there was no further goal. even if he wanted to continue there was nowhere to go. he encountered infinite emptiness. of course there was a sign saying THIS IS THE END OF THE WORLD. the man was standing on the very edge of the world. a great cliff beyond which there was nothing but chaos, nothing but nothingness, a tremendous emptiness, zero. of course he became very frightened. he was not expecting this. he could not take another step. he was trembling in fear.

....then he peered into the emptiness and even the emptiness was not empty..he saw off in the vague distance at the edge of his perception what appeared to be a mirror image of himself..peering off a great cliff..and behind this man a sign that said...THIS IS THE OTHER END OF THE WORLD!
(sorry, couldn't resist!)

[tropicalheatwave]

Did you write that or find it somewhere?

here is a story i got from a book.

[operatormike]

I see said the blind man as he picked up his hammer and saw.