It's all you

In honor of Halloween, I'm going to be a mime and shut up! Comment on anything you want. If you need suggestions, can I offer: free tacos, Rocktober depression, Brighton's new multi-purpose "not just a baseball stadium" event center, your favorite Halloween costume or just your general thoughts on this blog and why you are here again today when you should really be working. Happy Halloween!

Yum

Free taco? Delicious. God Bless Taco Bell. God Bless America!

W.W.W.D

NBC Nightly News anchor Brian Williams is slated to host Saturday Night Live on, wait for it, Saturday night. My first thought is this is completely blurring the lines between news and entertainment. It would be like me being a reporter and then trying to maintain a humorous blog. I emphasize "trying." Since I have yet to be successful, I see no conflict. Don't get me wrong. I like Williams a lot – way more than that lousy, no-good, phony Chuck Gibson (Sorry, I lost a bet, on ABC or that slutty, manipulative tease Katie Couric (bad breakup) on the Eyeball network. But like any good time loving girl in the bar, thinking about taking that bloak in the corner home for a romp, I can't help but wonder, "Will I still respect him in the morning>" Will your spoof of Britney Spears' children being abducted by the ghost of Anna Nicole Birkhead-Stern-Leo-Fred-Jack-Smith still be funny on Monday when you're reporting on the crisis in the Middle East, provided we'll even have a newscast with him off, fishing for yucks. I think back to the respected anchors of the past – the patriarchs that inspired me to be in this business or at least comb my hair. I look down at the yellow band on my wrist and wonder, W.W.W.D. (What Would Walter Do?)

A baseball fan reborn

So this is how winter starts.
Until today, it had been with chilly evenings, fallen leaves and one last, luscious tease of Indian summer.
But now, as a child of 28, I know that the cold arrives on a long fly ball to the left field warning track and one, last stinging strikeout.
As I drove home on I-25 from watching the final Rockies game Sunday night, not because I was there or even got a whiff of buying two overpriced, lousy seats, I couldn't help but think I saw a snowflake fall against the fading glow of the lights of Coors Field.
There is and will be much written about the 2007 Colorado Rockies. Hopefully, in time, the totality of their remarkable run will dim criticisms including one pious Denver sports columnist who declared they "choked" on the national stage.
But I will credit the Rockies with forever changing the seasons in this state and, hopefully, I can make the argument without sparing you any more euphemisms built on Rockies and October.
I kept doting on all the things this month that I'd never done before like celebrating my birthday with a Rockies victory and carving pumpkins in anticipation of the big Rockies game, violently smacking my computer monitor in what the Rockies would call a "malicious attack” and wondering how I would reschedule trick-or-treating for my daughter if we got to a game 6.
And then, just like that, it was all over.
Does the air feel a little colder this week? The grass a little less green. I caught myself in a moment of despair thinking about the bleakness of the winter ahead.
And then I understood.
Cubs fans weren't so crazy anymore.
And now the thought of all that shoveling ahead (please not as much as last year) and those dreary days give way to one thought: spring.
Spring training won't just be glorified practice next year. It is now a beacon – a light of hope guiding us through the changing of seasons.
And there are no guarantees of World Series visits every year. With these owners, we'll just pray we have three out fielders.
But, from now, this is how winter really starts. I didn't know what I was missing.

Halftime speech

I know your discouraged about the final score of last night's Rockies game. May I offer some insight? Give the Red Sox all the credit, the best team won today and the final score is the only statistic that matters. The Rockies were outplayed in every phase of the game. The Red Sox simply wanted it more than they did. The young Rox had their chances but they let them slip away and they came up a little short. Who cares about moral victories? They simply caught us on an off night. It just wasn't meant to be. They out-hustled us. They out-muscled us. They out-coached us. We got a wake-up call. We just weren't mentally prepared. We came out flat. We beat ourselves. We only have to look in the mirror. They ate our lunch. This is a bitter pill to swallow, but please eat your lunch first so you don't upset your stomach. I take full responsibility for this loss. We didn't get the job done. Not to take away anything from them, but we didn't play like we're capable of playing. My hat's off to them. I tip my hat to them. You've got to hand it to them and my hat too. The best team won today. We can still hold our heads high.These guys have nothing to be ashamed of. They just made the big plays and we didn't. They stepped up and made the plays. We didn't match their intensity.
Let's win one for the Gipper!

Five years of oops and awes

As I mentioned last week, I'm preparing to mark my five-year anniversary here at the paper. Perhaps, you've received the fliers for the large party happening at the Bella Sera. Perhaps, you'll let my boss know since we kind of need her to pay for it (Thanks, Karen).
When I think back on the last five years, so many memories seem to meld together. Of course, I started here as an education reporter (a tenuous role for someone at this paper) at the time. I learned quickly about the difference between reporter and cheerleader. Because I remember how excited I was for the school district when it looked like they had gotten their new high school in 2003. And how stupid I felt interviewing people about what a great moment it was, when it turned out to be untrue.
And I learned about the dangers of placing opinion in story when I took a slant to the planned Brighton Pavilions and questions about whether the site would work or not. City folk weren't happy (they really never are) and some cast me as being negative. Lesson learned. I tell my stories straight up – each side represented and me quietly in the middle. It's not flashy but I feel better about it.
It served me well when I was temporarily deported to Fort Lupton (just kidding) where there are always two sides to everything. Fort Lupton taught me a lot about my myself as a reporter. It's a tough job being a young kid handling a whole paper, trying to represent so many divergent points. It's devastating when a city official leaves you a message telling you that your story is wrong and people are sick of you not keeping your facts straight. It's gratifying when you were right all along. Thick skin comes quickly in this business, but slowly for self-conscious people like me.
Fort Lupton also gave me the chance to tell the story of Brian – a young autistic boy. It showed me the power we can have sometimes to tell meaningful stories.
Of course, as a notorious critic of my own work, the mistakes stand out. During the 2003 election, I mangled the names of two kind people who invited me in to their home to talk about their opposition to the new high school. Getting a last name wrong is understandable, botching a first name and changing a man into a woman is horrific. I'm sure those people still remember me and don't talk to the media any longer as a result. Just know I'm still mortified and every time I drive by your house, I still give myself an obligatory head slap. People look at me weird now when I ask them to spell their names especially when it's Bill but I don't care.
Being a courts and crime reporter, I'm still walking that fine line between duty and sleazy. I have a hard time chasing ambulances, a harder time calling grieving families and demanding their story immediately (Don't worry, 9News, that's still all you. I want to sleep at night). I remember a few years ago, I eagerly responded to a high school fireworks stand that had been toppled by a microburst in the K-Mart parking lot. I was eagerly snapping pictures as parents tried to clean up the mess when one angry mother yelled, "Can you stop taking pictures so we can clean it up?" It was a good thing I was only 15 feet away or I would have really been a nuisance.
People ask me what's next. Where do I want to go? A big paper, perhaps. I'll be political because it's that time of year. If you would have asked me five years ago if I would still be here, I would have laughed (just on the grounds of the original management.) But, in addition to enjoying the work, I have a family here, albeit a sometimes strange family but I love them all including the dog. Yes, we have a dog, the boss said if we're really good we can have a hamster next.
So as long as I'm here, this is where I want to be. I know, I could run a presidential campaign on the ambiguity of that statement. Hope you've enjoyed the past five years, or however long you've been along, and here's to five more!

Music voting suspended

I have suspended the weekly "pick the song" music voting as we re-evaluate it's usefulness. I can't believe you picked Vanessa Carlton. Yes, the argument could be made that I put it up as an option and, thus, I'm partly to blame. But, as sophisticated readers of my blog, I expect better from you. I expect a high standard from you that in any situation – be it bank robbery, drunken slumber or drug-induced coma – you will never pick Vanessa Carlton for any reason. This, of course, comes a week after you chose bad-mommy Britney to grace this precious bastion of Internet fare. My faith is shaken. I encourage you to spend this week thinking about what good music is and the danger of cluttering the Internet with crap.
Thank you,
Kevin
P.S. I'm really just out of ideas for songs. Don't take it too hard.

Do the Dewcinations

Even though we have a delicious, two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew sitting in our fridge, my wife and I are giving up Mountain Dew – at least at night. I have long been plagued by people lurking in my bedroom when I awake in the middle night after drinking the Dew. Sometimes, I even dive off the bed in a harrowing yet heroic attempt to escape. But, it wasn't until last week, when my wife's own nighttime Dew drinking caused her to attack herself following a wicked (Red Sox suck!), strange dream that we decided maybe it was time to set the Dew aside. We will however continue to put it in the kid's nightly bottle, just kidding. I'd be happy to take any suggestions on what we should drink at night now – I'm guessing I'm going to get a lot of votes for warm milk. Feel free to comment also on what makes Mountain Dew so evil. I thought it just caused impotence and I was always OK with that.

Still waiting

Still waiting for my Rockies tickets, still waiting.

Of all the thoughtless, inconsiderate ...

Believe it or not, sometimes the blog ideas just don't come easily. Luckily, we've skimmed through this week on laughing German midgets and screaming toilets. It's election time around here – a season that brings out the best and the worst of people – which makes it a nice warm-up for the holiday shopping season. Of course, the key issue on the Brighton ballot this year is tax money for a baseball stadium and, since it involves "your hard-earned" money, – it has dissolved into an argument about whether this would be a proper use of taxpayer money. I've said it before in this blog and I'll say it again, if this town can say no to a high school while staring at pictures of children being educated in streets because there's no room in the classrooms than this stadium has no chance. I respect the anti-tax folk of this town – the people who would turn down a crippled children's home if it meant a dollar out of their pocket – way to stick to your morals. But this rabble year after year gets old. Same with the drivel starting now that the Rangeview Library District is pulling a bait and switch with its plans for a Brighton library in downtown. Yes, they told us they would add on to the existing library but if they see a better deal, why not go with that. As long as we still get a library and not a 1 percent share in a chain of Popeye's Chicken restaurants, what's the problem?

Imagine if she would have used it

This story would be really strange to me if it hadn't happened in Scranton, P.A. – fictional home to NBC's "The Office."
Apparently, a Scranton woman who allegedly shouted profanities at her overflowing toilet within earshot of a neighbor was cited for disorderly conduct.
Dawn Herb could face up to 90 days in jail and a fine of up to $300.
"It doesn't make any sense. I was in my house. It's not like I was outside or drunk," Herb told The Times-Tribune of Scranton. "The toilet was overflowing and leaking down into the kitchen and I was yelling (for my daughter) to get the mop."
A few random thoughts:
I hope prosecutors don't bump it up to a felony count of aggravated toilet abuse.
Apparently the toilet is being defended by the I.C.U.P. (International Congregation for United Toilets).
How much street cred will this lady have in prison? What'd you do? I screamed at a toilet. Whoaaa!

My funny uncle

This is exclusive footage from last week's regular staff meeting. We're an easily entertained bunch! Pause my music player to enjoy this. I think it's going to become a regular feature.
Laughing German Midget

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The dead guy

One of my least heralded jobs at the paper and I have a few (not counting the occasional toilet plunge) is taking care of our obituary section. I don't write actual stories or do any additional research but I'm responsible for making sure everybody's story gets in the paper with picture and, hopefully, at a reasonable length. And, after working in Brighton for a while, names jump out at me. This week I noticed Albert Hause, the father of local Grammy-winning music producer Butch Hause who I had the chance to meet a while back, had died. And the name Homer Overholt stuck out because he has family at my church and my guess is his obituary only tells half the story because it sounds like he led an amazing life. And then I see names like 7-year-old Paul "PJ" Stokes and, as a parent, my heart breaks because I can't imagine.
I've been feeling reflective as I come up on five years at the paper and I'm going to spend next week reflecting on some of my best and worst moments (just a few) during my time here.

Ho-ho-holy crap! Already?

Was out at Best Buy the other night and I couldn't help but notice the "over-helposity" of the employees there. In a span of less than five minutes – five different employees asked me if I needed help. I'm always suspicious about this. Especially since I could go to a place like Circuit City and literally have to drag an employee away from their ham and cheese sandwich to assist me. Then I started thinking. Maybe I was confused by the Rockies still playing but the holiday shopping season is very much upon us. That's a little frightening to me. The elbowing, the pushing, the foul words and that's just my Thanksgiving family dinner. Yes, the Christmas decorations will be coming out soon once I deflate the 6-foot inflatable Halloween hearse in my front yard. Sound off, people, are you ready for the holidays yet?

Rock on

There's only one thought on my mind today so we're going to keep it pretty simple:


GO ROCKIES!

And vote for song of the week. Not Britney, please not Britney!

A good vibe

I've been coming to work in downtown Brighton for five years (officially in two weeks) but, I have to tell you, driving here this morning I caught a really good vibe. United Lumber is closing (bummer) but the thought of a cultural center with a library and theater is exciting. They're furiously working on the old Brighton Depot and it should be open soon. There are plans for a downtown minor league baseball stadium on the north end of Main Street. I think that would really be cool. The catch is voters will to have approve it. And I hate to be the buzzkill, especially when I'm the one touting the buzz, but I don't see a town that has to have its arm twisted and be beaten over the head multiples times with a large wooden stick (courtesy of United Lumber) in order to build new schools will sign off on a baseball stadium. Hey, but that's just me, mildly cynical. But, I like the feel of downtown now. I like the fact that people have taken the redevelopment effort in to their own hands rather than waiting for the Western Bar (closed by the way) to be become a beacon of cultural renaissance.

Is your refrigerator running?

By now many of you have heard about the Chicago marathon gone bad over the weekend where hundreds of runners suffered heat exhaustion in unseasonably warm Chicago heat and one person actually died. Here's the recount from one surviving runner.
"I was drenched in sweat, completely soaked, after only mile one, and that is very unusual," said Emily Schuster, 25, a New Yorker who had trained for the event since June. "And then somebody collapsed before the halfway point, before even mile 13, and I thought: 'OK, it must be hot, they must be old.' But then at mile 15, there's a stretch where you turn into the sun and run for several miles, and people started dropping like flies. Older, younger, men, women —every couple of steps you saw someone collapsing with ice on their head."
Clearly horrifying and all on the heels of the Denver marathon. I dare miss the chance to quote a line from my favorite movie "The Fugitive" and I'll gladly beckon the stern voice of United States Marshal Samuel Gerard when I say "It's time to stop running!"
How many more people are we going to lose to marathons? How many more children are going to be dragged down the street by some shirtless Mr. Clean wannabee (see picture). It's time we pass federal mandates banning all running unless, in the words of my wife, "you are being chased." It's just not worth it anymore. I know what you're thinking. Will this trigger some kind of prohibition-type backlash where people are secretly running in their basements? Perhaps. But it is a small price to pay to take runners off the street. I'll also enjoy not feeling lazy anymore. Fast walking will, however, still be allowed.

Go Rox

It's time for another fun week. Desperately, wondering how I keep my baseball fix with the Rockies off till Thursday. Baseball fan or not, you can agree there is something satisfying about seeing the Rockies doing so swell. It reaffirms Denver is a baseball town (we're just terribly fair weather sometimes) and it brings my yearly prediction of the Rockies in the World Series (15 years running) closer to reality. The other option is the Broncos. Yuck. Trust me, no one's rooting harder for the Rox in the World Series than the Broncs. How else do you explain fans quietly leaving the stadium yesterday instead of burning Mike Shannahan in effigy? The Rockies surprising run is definitely keeping the heat off the stumbling, fumbling Donkeys. As for any assertions that the Rocks have usurped the Broncos in popularity, give me a break. Broncos fans will quickly return all forsaken loyalty to the Broncos as soon as Pat Bowlen tells them to.

Time flies

The Hinkley High School class of 1997-98 state championship football team reunites tomorrow night at the school homecoming game. I'd be lying if I said I was part of the team – a girl beat me out for the kicker's job. But I'd also be lying if I said the chance to see this group gather again brings back some nostalgia and with it some awe that it has already been 10 years. I can still remember the celebration on a chilly November day as we (as a school) captured the state championship. This is the unofficial kickoff to our 10 year reunion celebration which will culminate next summer with the awkward showing of children's pictures while my wife knee-caps the girl she thought liked me in high school. I'm anxious to soak in all the events of the next year – savor the fact that for a few minutes maybe I can be a teen again – stuffed in a locker by an angry mob. No matter how many times that happens now, it never feels the same.

Flying the unfriendly skies

I'm not a big fan of flying. Some reasons are uncontrollable – a vivid fear that the plane will suddenly plummet to the ground is near the top. But a lot of people don't like flying now – long waits, canceled flights among theirs. Our trip back from Hawaii was a disaster. Our connecting flight from San Fran to Denver was canceled. So we had to catch a short flight from San Fran to L.A. to then catch a plane to Denver but not before that flight was delayed about a half hour while we waited for an additional FAA-mandated flight attendant. For anyone interested in knowing how many flight attendants it takes to pour a cup of coffee, I now know the answer – no joke. But these are the obvious inconveniences of flying right now. You simply realize the tone of flying right now is all wrong. Flight attendants are surly at best – continuing to believe this is actually their flight and we simply keep hassling them. I actually had a flight attendant ask me to remove the diaper I had just placed in her pristine trash bag because I have to throw that away in the restroom which I can't go to because the fasten seat belt sign is on because the pilot is sky surfing again. I can only assume she was going to rummage through the bag later for nickels and uneaten pretzels. On our flight to Hawaii, when our daughter was wide-awake and in need of entertainment, they showed an in-flight movie about a couple ravaged by time and the grueling decision to place one in a rest home. My daughter lost interest quickly. On the red-eye flight back, when my daughter and 95 percent of the other people on the plane were asleep, they showed "Surf's Up" – a charming, animated tale about a penguin competing in a surfing contest. What am I missing? And it's probably the perennial gripe but you shell out hundreds of dollars for plane tickets and then you have to pitch in five bucks more for a snack box or a crummy turkey sandwich. Why are the airlines struggling? You tell me.

Old people be aware of the grill

I must be back because another car just tried to run over mine in the roundabouts – yea. My week long trip to Maui ended yesterday with a demonstration course in why our airlines are struggling (another day, another long blog.) A wonderful trip, if you're a fan of tropical sun and fail safe 80 degree temperatures. And plenty of time to ponder life's pertinent dilemmas – avoiding awkward hot tub conversations with total strangers, trying to keep old people from burning their hands on my barbecue grill (Seriously, old guy, I'm not going to ask you again. If the kid gets it, why can't you?) and wondering why I didn't get Warren Molina to emcee my wedding. Warren, who ran our luau, is my new blog celebrity (I wish I could find his picture) if for no other reason than the fact that he made no attempt to conceal he wanted to rip off the tea leaves of the hula dancers as personal conquests and half the women in the audience too! All with the smile of a used car salesman. More tidbits from my trip to come (just enough to annoy you) and we'll get pick the song back up soon so we can get rid of Don Ho! And to the hackers (it was an inside job) who invaded my blog with artist's conceptions of my trip, thank you.