We took in a Riders in the Sky concert the other day and, quite naturally, I got to thinking about cable television. I got to thinking that direction because one of the cowboy quartet members made a joke about the old days of three television channels and all kinds of programs to watch and the modern situation with a couple of hundred channels and nothing to watch. The line drew a huge laugh from the audience, which trended toward the more mature side of the greater Pierre demographic and whose members probably can actually remember back to three channels and all the great programming those
So, now it can be told. I had a total shoulder replacement earlier this month. The date of surgery was March 12, a Monday. I didn't say anything about it right away for a couple of reasons. First, at my age, I wanted to make sure I came out of it before I started yakking about the procedure. Second? Well, duh. I've had my right arm in a sling for a couple of weeks. I wasn't supposed to be working a keyboard. Since I'm out of the sling and back at the job full time, I figure it's safe to talk a little about this miracle of medicine.
Today, in my ongoing mission to bring to the less technologically adept segment of society (or folks like me) warnings about the latest changes in social media, I bring you a thing called ambient social networking. Actually, to give credit where it is due, Time magazine brings news of this phenomenon.
All right, the basketball tournaments are over, the champions have been crowned, and we can turn to what's really important in high school activities. That's track and field, for all you non-believers out there. I know it doesn't always get the attention of the general public the way basketball and football do, but it gives a lot of school kids a chance to compete and the usually good feeling that goes with representing their school in that competition. It's an individual sport, but it's the ultimate team sport.
When my dad was just a young man, he and his big brother, George, hopped a freight and rode to Chicago for the World's Fair. The year was 1933. I used to love to hear the stories about that trip.
One of the things I really enjoyed as a daily newspaper reporter was digging into history and writing about events from the past, especially South Dakota's past. In his unorthodox history book, "South Dakota: A Bicentennial History," the late John Milton, of Vermillion, remarked on how "new" is the history of this state. We became a state in 1889, and Milton's book was published in 1976 or perhaps 1977.
Not many times does a kid -- an old, gray-haired kid, to be sure, but a kid, nonetheless -- not want his mother to still be around, but the other day might have been one of those rare times. I was reading the Rapid City newspaper (hey, my little brother works there.
A little more than three years ago, just after I retired from a reporting job with the Sioux Falls newspaper, I got such stiffness and pain in most of the joints in my body that I thought I might end up unable to walk. The condition, which eventually was diagnosed as rheumatoid arthritis, developed more quickly than I'd have imagined possible. I'm no rheumatologist, not even a little bit of a medical expert. My layperson's awareness -- more properly described as unawareness, I suppose -- was that arthritis developed slowly, over decades and mostly in old people.
In a forum elsewhere, I mentioned the possibility of South Dakota university campuses allowing alcohol in the dormitories. My take on it: Booze? They wouldn't even let us stay up late when I was in school. Students drank alcohol back in my day. I suppose it has always been so, for a number of the young men and women who attend college. Those of us who chose to drink generally went downtown, to one of the taverns that served low-point beer. In my day, if you were 18, you were old enough for 3.2 beer, but not for high-point beer, wine or hard liquor.
When I was a kid, I had a classmate who was born on Feb. 29. That made him a Leap Year baby. He celebrated a birthday every year, but he celebrated his birth date just once every four years. One year, a Leap Year during which his actual number came up at the end of February, I was invited to a party for the kid. Grade school parties were mostly ice cream and layer cake from the birthday boy's mom and home-made cards from the invitees, along with maybe a $1 gift. (Come on, now. Let's not be laughing at the idea of a $1 gift.