The Life of Jim How

[JimHow]

So I went into my local Olympia Sports at one of the more empty malls here in Lewiston the other day for a long overdue purchase of new running shoes. As I'm looking over the various Nikes, etc., on the display wall, I said to the nineteen year old sales girl who approached: "I'd like your best. What are your best running shoes?" Without much hesistation the girl reached up for a beautiful running shoe on the top shelf. "Well, you want this shoe then. You want this Asics." It was a beauty. Those gell soles, white with black trim. A hundred and fifty big ones, plus tax. "Can I try the size eleven, please?" She goes out into the back room and comes out with a pair of size elevens. "I also brought out a ten and a half," she said, "in case the elevens are too big." I tried on the elevens, pranced around a little bit on the carpeted floor in the quiet store in the quiet mall, as a couple of envious boys in their late teens looked on. Perfect fit! "I'll take them," I said to her. Pricey, I said to myself, but worth it. "There is only one thing," the girl said. "For some reason, Asics has one of the cheapest insoles. It is a beautiful sneaker, but they make cheap insoles for some reason. Check out these insoles over here on this rack, they make all the difference in the world." She pointed me to a pair of $33 insoles. "Do you have flat feet?" As a matter of fact, I do. "They make all the difference in the world. I'm wearing a pair right now myself." Soon I was leaving the failing mall, with nearly $200 less in my pocket, the sweet and innocent 19 year old unassuming geek girl having sold the hardened lawyer/negotiator a pair of $33 insoles to complement my Asics purchase, on a quiet Saturday morning in Lewiston, Maine.

[Nicklasss]

Don't take it personnally Jim, but this story is ''as boring as a 1993 Chateau Batailley''

Personnally I hate buying shoes (or any other clothing) as I know I always pay too much, for something made in Bangladesh, Thailand, Vietnam or China. So the owner of that store or that business buy all the 2009 Chateau Lafite for 1250 $ a bottle, and I drink my 10 $ Bordeaux before going rdoing sport with my 150 $ Reebook...

Nic

[JimHow]

Ha ha, it is the drama of life, Nicolas. In some ways it is boring as a '93 Batailley, in other ways, it is amazing as a complex, multi-layered '90 Margaux!

[Blanquito]

The ridiculousness of my wine expenditures (even as drastically reduced as they have been in 2012) always makes me feel better about my other outlays. I think, "hey, this purchase X only costs two bottles of the '93 Batailley AND I actually need or can use this purchase X!".

Of course, this can foster a dangerous psychology for sticking to a budget. But it sure does take the guilt-anxiety-remorse out of many purchases, like high-end running shoes.

Enjoy the Asics and let us know if they're worth the tariff!

[stefan]

Gosh, I have never paid more than $30-$35 for sneakers, BB shoes, or running shoes.

[DavidG]

"Best" running shoe... hmm, that sounds ripe with potential wine analogies.

Best according to the salesgirl because of the high price/commission? Best according to Running World? Consumer Reports? A majority of active posters on the Running Shoe Enthusiasts bulletin board? How many points did they get? Are they good right out of the box or do they need some time to develop? Will they age well? Do they get better with add or so they just hand in there without developing any complexity? Best because they will last the longest (helps the QPR)? Most comfortable? Lightest? Most likely to prevent injury? Fastest? Are they made naturally? Biodynamically? Sustainably? With a minimalist manufacturing philosophy? Are they "honest" shoes? "Real" shoes? Is the design Old World? New World? Are they spoofy?

Be sure to post a note after your first run. Are there excessive notes of tar or rubber on the nose? How does the tongue feel? Are they tight on opening, and do they loosen up after a bit? Are they well balanced? How are they on the attack, through the middle, and on the finish? After an hour or so do they evolve, or are they just overwhelmed with a nose of sweaty socks?

[JimHow]

I don't want to get you guys jealous, but this is what a pair of $150 Asics looks like. Note the gell soles on the outside. The $33 special insoles can be seen on the inside....

[JimHow]

So I was doing my morning constitutional a couple weeks ago -- a little later than usual, as it was a Saturday morning -- a warm summer morning, going to be hot that day -- I was walking down Canal Street along the ancient canal system abutting the historic Bates Mill, closed now as the jobs went first south, then east in the last generation-- the street runs parallel with Lisbon Street, my daily route takes me down around the closed music store converted into some sort of Spirit of Fire Church or some such thing, and then back up Lisbon Street past the "seedy" lower end, with the pawn shops and adult bookstore, etc., before heading back to my office at the corner of Lisbon and Ash -- I had just passed the back side of the Somali mosque, and now was on the back side of the district court -- anyway, I look down at my feet and there, a few inches off the curb, is a crisp $20 bill folded neatly in half. Just sitting there. Incredible! Almost surreal, it was like too good to be true. So i pick it up and put the Jackson in my left pocket -- I put all change, keys, etc., in my left pocket, as my right pocket is reserved only for my three lucky dimes and my iPhone -- and I finish up my morning walk. Not long afterwards I decide to head a little ways across the street from my office to one of the new little cafes that have opened up on the Street of Dreams in the past few years, the intent being to pick myself up a freshly baked bagel -- poppyseed, toasted with butter -- and bring it back to the office for some lazy Saturday morning nourishment. As I walk across the street I see this large boned man -- he must've been fortyish, long unkempt hair, scraggly reddish beard, sitting on a bench. He had a brown grocery bag that probably contained all of his possessions, his clothes were filthy, he was sitting there, in very dire straits, mumbling to himself, gyrating to himself with his hands, obviously trying to convince somebody, maybe himself, of some point he was trying to make. He was obviously homeless. He was obviously mentally ill, alone on the streets. He had clearly spent the night in a doorway somewhere, or in the park. So I walked past him towards the little cafe with its sundry baked treats and other goodies, and I said to myself, when I'm done ordering my bagel, I'm going to go back out to that bench and give this fellow the $20 bill that I had found down on Canal. Who knows, maybe he would just spend it on booze, but maybe he'd get a little breakfast in him first. Maybe it would even change his life somehow, some big turning point moment, where he parlays the $20 into a life of normalcy! Just like in the movies! So I went into the cafe and ordered my bagel, flirted a while with the lovelies behind the counter, checked out a few of the little items and knick knacks on the counter, and made my way out, small brown paperback in hand, melted butter starting to seep through, and headed back towards my office, ready to reach into my left pocket for the twenty to give to the homeless man.... Blue lights. Two young Lewiston cops. The homeless man, now on his feet, hands behind him, being handcuffed. No resistance, just confused resignation. Probably some warrant out for him for an unpaid fine, or a bail violation, or some relatively minor offense. Maybe a disorderly conduct. A short trip to the hoosegow ahead. And then, who knows where. Haven't seen the homeless guy since.

[JonB]

Like high end wine, the margin on running shoes is phenomonal. Production cost is $5-10 a pair. While Asics are very popular, it seems going through a fitting can be worthwhile if you run a lot..... Old shoes can get stinky, just like old wine.

[DavidG]

I like these slice of life stories...

I'd try to write my own, but I can't come close to to Jim's yarn-spinning skills, so here's my story, and I'm sticking to it:

So I went into my local wine shop at one of the more empty malls here in the Baltimore suburbs the other day for a long overdue purchase of a new bottle of Bordeaux. As I'm looking over the various St. Juliens, etc., on the display racks, I said to the nineteen year old sales girl who approached: "I'd like your best. What are your best Bordeaux?" Without much hesistation the girl reached up for a beautiful bottle on the top shelf. "Well, you want this wine then. You want this 2009 Petrus." It was a beauty. That magnificent rendering of St. Peter, white with black trim. Three thousand big ones, plus tax. "Can I try the magnum, please?" She goes out into the back room and comes out with a case of magnums. "I also brought out an Imperial," she said, "in case the magnums are too small." I cradled the Imperial in my arms, pranced around a little bit on the hardwood floor in the quiet store in the quiet mall, as a couple of envious wine geeks in their late fifties looked on. Perfect fit! "I'll take them all," I said to her. Pricey, I said to myself, but worth it. "There is only one thing," the girl said. "For some reason, Petrus has one of the tightest fitting corks. It is a beautiful wine, but they make overly tight closures for some reason. Check out this Sveid corkscrew over here on this table, they make all the difference in the world." She pointed me to a display case holding a 52-piece corkscrew made out of aviation-grade titanium with a platinum fingertip lever for $71,000. "Do you have carpal tunnel syndrome?" As a matter of fact, I do. "This corkscrew makes all the difference in the world. I use one at trade tastings myself." Soon I was leaving the failing mall, with nearly $200,000 less in my pocket, the sweet and innocent 19 year old unassuming geek girl having sold the hardened physician/negotiator a $71,000 corkscrew to complement my Petrus purchase, on a quiet Saturday morning in Ellicott City, Maryland.

[JimHow]

Lol, there you go David, bravo! I laughed out loud at that one. See, it isn't so hard to write about every day life....

[Claret]

Jim got upselled by a 19 year old! There was probably a "spiff" on the insoles.

Too bad about the homeless dude. As Maxwell Smart would say, "He missed it by that much".

[sdr]

I have been an Asics fan for a number of years. They make a line of shoes with varying prices but more expensive does not mean better. I ended up with the Kayanos because they felt the best. (I like a lot of cushioning and need a stability shoe since I over pronate.) If you're a runner, the shoe is your only expensive item - cheapest sport in the world.
But if you need inserts, you have the wrong shoe for your feet. And I would never buy any shoe without trying them on running on the treadmill every running store has. Finally, there should be a no questions asked return policy if you are not satisfied with them within a reasonable period of time. There are plenty of excellent alternative to Asics at every price point.

Stuart

[JimHow]

So we got word a couple weeks ago that my Uncle Al had lung cancer and his health was deteriorating pretty rapidly. He served in the Korean War, where he was awarded two bronze star medals, and had earned a living as a local barber, with his own small barber shop. Married my mother's sister, a nurse, and they raised three girls, each of which are nearly identical in ages to me and my two brothers. We used to hang out with their family when we were younger, going to the beach in the summer and whatnot, but we hadn't seen much of my aunt and uncle in recent years, since my mother died a few years back. Al had always been kind of an Archie Bunker type, America Right or Wrong, but he was nonetheless a pretty loveable guy, especially in his later years, a good Democrat, enjoyed Bruins hockey, and drinking a few beers, and putting around in his beloved garage attached to their little home at the end of a dead end street. He was putting around in his garage as late as last week, even doing a few haircuts at the old shop, that he sold to a younger guy a few years back, even while a hospice nurse was coming by the house daily to help my aunt care for him. We hadn't seen Al in a while but nonetheless the thought of him always brought back good memories, from a more innocent time. Neil Armstrong, another Korean War veteran, died this past Saturday, about the same age as Al. When Neil died I thought back to some of those memories of the Apollo program, the absolute awe I had for those astronauts. I remember the afternoon of July 20, 1969. We were at Popham Beach, my brothers and my parents, with my Uncle Al and Aunt Jeannine and their three girls. A sweltering mid-summer day on the coast. By mid-afternoon every single person on the beach was gathered around the transistors at their blankets, listening to the moon landing on the radio. With just a couple minutes to go, I remember someone on the radio saying that "visual flight rules" were in effect for Eagle. I remember Al, in his 1960s swim trunks, explaining the lunar module was getting close... that they were about 3,000 feet from the surface of the moon, and that Armstrong was now taking over the controls manually from the computer instruments and was preparing to land the craft by himself. I was an absolute total space geek at age ten and I thought that little piece of information was about as cool as it got. I remembered that moment when my buddy Steve called me on Saturday afternoon to tell me that Neil Armstrong had died. Not long after that I said to myself that I needed to get over to Al and Jeannine's house the next day, Sunday, to say goodbye to Al, see him one last time. The next morning, at about 8:30, Al died. He had been moved into hospice care at 4:00 p.m. on Saturday -- just about the time that the world was learning that Neil Armstrong was gone -- and was gone by the next morning. There will be a funeral mass tomorrow morning and then he will be brought up to the veterans cemetery in Augusta for final rest, a life well lived....

[dstgolf]

Condolences Jim. Nice to have been able to have closure and have seen your uncle before he passed. Sharing a few last moments is so important and consider yourself fortunate. People struggle with the I should have ,could have....after one passes not having an opportunity or through benign neglect not spending those final times. Very important in most peoples lives to have that closure.

Our best wishes on the passing of your uncle.

Danny & Danielle

[Chasse-Spleen]

Jim,
It sounds like you missed your Uncle Al. I'm sorry to hear that. I had an Uncle Al, too. And many others, who I wished I could have spent more time with in the end. My uncle Dan passed away recently, after a long, painful illness. I got to see him one last time, but it still wasn't enough. He was just like his father, my grandfather, a carpenter and stagehand. My mother, and his wife Jane, miss him the most, of course. He was only 73.
-Chasse

[JimHow]

Yes thank you for the condolences Danny and Chris, I did end up not seeing him. I intended to go over on Sunday but he died at 8:20 that morning. Sorry about your loss Chris. Poignant times.

[Chasse-Spleen]

It's been a tough year! Although, last year was even worse. Last year, we lost my Great Aunt Katy at 98 years old (a blessing for her in the state of her health), my Uncle Lenny, and our/my parents cat, Duffy. I know this sounds crazy, but Duffy's passing was really tough. She was such a sweety and the light of all of our lives in a way. She was only 2 years old and died of feline leukemia.

[JimHow]

So I'm standing here at Red's Eats in Wiscasset for the one hour wait in line for my annual lobster roll, featuring a pound and a quarter of lobster meat in each roll, thinking back about the week past, trying to ignore the week ahead. We had my uncle's funeral on Thursday, it occurred to me beforehand that my father had put on some weight in the past couple of years and probably was not going to be able to fit into his one nice gray suit. Sure enough he couldn't button his waist when he tried on the suit on Tuesday. He's having trouble getting around these days, but I knew we were going to have to make a trip out to the Auburn Mall to get him a pair of pants. This was the type of thing my mother used to take care of for him. I rearranged my Tuesday afternoon schedule, scurried to get an amended Chapter 13 plan filed that was due with the Bankruptcy Court by 4pm, and then picked up the old man for the trip out to Auburn. He needs to grab my arm now whenever we go out in public, a phenomenon that has snuck up in the past few months, so I parked in a handicap space. At JC Penney I had him try on a couple gray slacks in the dressing room, standing outside the cubicle door and calling out "Everything okay in there?" every now and then. We settled on a nice $37 pair of Hagars, dark gray, but they needed to be shortened, and quick, we only had like one day to get this done before the funeral. The nice lady waiting on us recommended a woman up in Turner about twenty minutes away, who could probably get the job done in an expedited manner. I called "Nita's Tailoring" on my cell phone from the JC Penney dressing room, told her about our situation, and we were on our way. At the customer service counter I pulled out my debit card but my father would have none of it, he insisted on paying for the pants, pulling out a couple of twenties and getting three dollar bills back in return. We got back in the car, drove up through the farmland of Turner with the beautiful views of the western Maine hills, and Nita's directions brought me to the front steps of her beautiful home up on a crest on rural Route 117. We had trouble negotiating the one big step up to her front door, but by Dad leaning against the side of the porch and me pushing him up with a little momentum, we were in, where the kindly 'Nita (short for Anita) tucked up his pants, inserting pins at the bottom, then taking the pants downstairs to her sewing machine... afew short minutes later, mission accomplished! "That'll be ten dollars," said the kindly 'Nita, as I handed her fifteen, including a tip for her efforts. We drove to my father's house back in Lewiston as the late afternoon light began to fade, myself with a good feeling about how nice the two sixty-ish women -- Nita and the sales clerk at JC Penney -- had treated my aging father....

[JimHow]

The lobster roll meal, after only a 58 minute wait.

Delicious, although I must dispute with Martha Stewart when she says that the Red's Eats whoopie pies are the best in the world. She has obviously never been to Lewiston! As for the lobster roll, though... Mmmmmm!

[stefan]

Sorry to hear about your uncle, Jim. Enjoy the time you have left with your Dad.

We are lucky to be getting Maine lobsters flown in and sold for $8. Lucie made an amazing lobster pastry dish yesterday to take to friends and for us to lunch on today with a nice '07 J. M Boillot Rully Gresigny.

[Blanquito]

Chris, in case you guys get another cat, there's a feline leukemia vaccine these days (requiring a booster every two years). Pretty much needed for all indoor/outdoor cats...

[Blanquito]

That lobster roll looks incredibly good...

[Jay Winton]

lobstah!!! My problem is any lobster I've had since then Maine visit just doesn't measure up.

[DavidG]

But Jay, a Maine lobster is a Maine lobster is a Maine lobster...

...and they're shipped here live, so...

...must be the company and the setting that made the difference!

[JimHow]

JOHN LENNON AND THE SHIPYARD WORKER

So I was driving home the other night, a Saturday night in Lewiston, around 9:30 or ten. Outer Lisbon Street was fairly quiet. I pulled up to a local pizza joint, the cupboard was bare, I thought I’d buy a pastry or something to munch on before hitting the sack early. There was a rugged looking fellow, fortyish, at the counter in front of me. I don’t think there were any other customers in the place. A couple of younger women were behind the counter, one in an obvious supervisory position, the other, waiting on the gentleman with his back to me, either fairly new on the job or not real enthused about being there. John Lennon 1980 was on the radio:

Our life together is so precious together
We have grown, we have grown
Although our love is so special
Let’s take a chance and fly away somewhere alone

The guy was ordering a lasagna and salad to go. I heard him mention something about getting off the second shift at the shipyard. That would be the Bath Iron Works, about 35 minutes away on the coast, where a lot of guys commute to work from Androscoggin County to build the latest battleships Uncle Sam can buy. It’s an overgeneralization, I know, but I find that the shipyard workers can be a gruff lot – men’s men – welders, painters, they get paid a decent wage for the area. They’re tough union guys who like their beer and their toys. This guy fit the bill. The girl was cashing him out while the supervisor paper-bagged his lasagna meal in the Styrofoam container, warm bread wrapped in tinfoil, a plastic bottle of diet Pepsi lain gently inside. Soon he was joining in refrain with the legendary Beatle, singing along:

But when I see you darling
It’s like we are both falling in love again
It’ll be just like starting over, starting over

The uninspired girl was trying to crack open a roll of pennies in its plastic wrapping, with like no success. Now, I wasn’t in a rush, but I was just there to pick up a crème roll and get home, I was a little tired. Come on girl, use some elbow grease.

Everyday we used to make it love
Why can’t we be making love nice and easy

Now the girl is picking at the top of the plastic roll of pennies, to get it open that way. The shipyard worker is starting to sway – dancing – to John Lennon:

It’s time to spread our wings and fly
Don’t let another day go by my love

I closed my eyes, held my breath a little, in anticipation of what I knew was now coming, louder now, in unison, shipyard worker from 2012 reaching back in time with Lennon 1980:

It’ll be just like starting oh-oh-ver…
Starting oh-oh-ver!

Now she is trying to crack open a roll of dimes. We have been through two verses and two choruses of the great John Lennon’s (Just Like) Starting Over, and finally I pay for my crème roll, the shipyard worker in full chorus as he leaves holding his paper bag, horizontally, belting out the lyrics in the song’s bridge:

Why don’t we take off alone?
Take a trip somewhere, far, far away

Torture. As he exited the store, the last I heard was “well, well darling….”

Now the girl is giving me change… eight cents from the two bills I gave her… dropping the nickel and three pennies slowly into my palm, almost one at a time… I swear she’s doing this on purpose.

I leave with my crème roll, having heard almost the entire three minutes and forty nine seconds of John Lennon’s classic, the dancing shipyard worker, the two girls behind the counter, the crème roll….

Just another quiet Saturday night on outer Lisbon Street in Lewiston, Maine….

Let’s take a chance and fly away somewhere...
Starting over.

[Chasse-Spleen]

Thanks, Patrick. I think she already had it when my sister took her in.

[RDD]

You think you running shoes are pricey, you should see the price tag on my custom cycling shoes.
You actually imprint your feet in foam blocks and they cut an insole to match etc.
But it makes all the difference when I'm riding long miles.

Sorry about you Uncle.............

And what I'm I doing up so early?
Brewing some Helles Lager as the weather is cool enough to ferment at 50 degrees in my temp controlled fermenter.
First I have to keg 10 gallons of ESB and cleanup the fermenter for the next batch.
I know it is just beer but it is good and runs a whopping 50 cents a pint (well now it does since the equipment was bought long long ago).