Congratulations Roger and Katie!

Katie and I met when we were ten years old.  As she tells it, we met at the park where I was jumping off the swings and landing on my head. She thought I was so crazy, she just had to meet me.  I don’t have any recollection of this, but I disagree. I was very good at swing-jumping and there’s no way I would have been landing on my head!

Either way, Katie and I met that summer before 5th grade and became fast friends. She’s been one of my best friends ever since. And while we’ve both had other best friends that have come and gone, Katie now has a new permanent best friend, her husband Roger.

Of course, everything about the wedding was beautiful. Though I have to admit, this trend of going to Iowa in April for weddings is getting a little old. It’s cold there folks!

I loved the men’s colors, orange vests and yellow ties with their black tuxes.  They matched my shoes! And Munchkinhead’s tequila sunrise.

Katie and Roger are both engineers, so there was lots of fun, hands-on stuff around at the reception.  Plastic wind-up robots that went gshzzz-gshzzz-gshzzz  as they wobbled across the white tablecloth linens, cardboard robot kits, even crayons and a coloring book. The coloring book had two robots on the front and then a whole bunch of blank pages. Munchkinhead and I had a great time filling the book with images of Katie and Roger as all sorts of things: fish, astronauts, beers, old people.

And of course, there was plenty of dancing.  Mommy and Daddy danced to their song.  Munchkinhead and I rocked out to Don’t Stop Believing, which is pretty much Munchkinhead and whoever’s around’s song.  We polka-ed, we funky chicken-ed, we YMCA’d.  The DJ even played the song Mommy and I dance to at every wedding.

My second-favorite part was when the lady sitting next to me turned to the bride’s mom and started talking about these shoes she saw at the ceremony that she really liked, “yellow with black polka-dots.”  “Hey, those are Munchkinhead’s!”

I also really liked seeing Katie and her family again; it’s been a few years.  But my favorite, absolute favorite part was seeing how happy Katie is and how much Roger adores her. 

Here’s to a long and happy life together for both of them!

My Neighborhood Trademark Infringement

Just in time for INTA…

Walking down the street to get some quarters from the bowling alley, I passed a sign taped to a lamp post.  It caught my eye, and I had wait for the light to change before I could cross the street, so I took a closer look.

“A new gym in the neighborhood.  Awesome!  Maybe I’ll check it out; it would be nice to walk instead of BARTing or driving to the gym.”  Then I saw the logo and became slightly puzzled.  “Is this a subsidiary of 24 Hour Fitness, or related in some other way?  If it is, maybe my 24 Hour membership will work there and I could start using it now without any extra fees.” 

The fact that this question even came up in my mind – is this gym related to another gym I know – raises trademark concerns.  Here is a closer view of the logo on the flyer:

And here is one of the 24 Hour Fitness logo:

Same colors, same use of a red circular shape, outlined in blue with white text in the middle.  The fonts are different, the names are different and the word “fitness” is in a different color, but there’s still a lot of visual similarity between the two.

The standard for trademark infringement is whether a mark is confusingly similar to another mark.  I was confused.  Mr. Trizzle wasn’t.  “They have different names.”  What do you think?  Would you wonder if the two were part of the same company?

After looking at the poster in more detail, I decided the gym is likely not related to 24 Hour Fitness, but I’m still not sure.  In either case, I think the new gym is trying to use 24 Hour’s reputation and strong presence in the area to its advantage, which is still a problem.

It’s a Bird; It’s a Plane; It’s a Tuning Slide!

High school marching band is the source of many wonderful memories for me.  Some of the best parts of my four years of high school come from band rehearsals, competitions and camps.  I loved marching band, but then, it’s hard not to love something when you’re the best at it. Of all our competitions during those four years, there was one in which we did not take 1st place, State my freshman year, when we took 2nd place by .03 of a point. 

From all those great memories, one that remains an easy favorite is from the Burlington High Chocolate Festival my junior year.  It was our first year at this particular competition.  Our old assistant band director, Mr. Mannisto, had left Cudahy High School to become the main band director at Burlington High.  He invited our band to compete at his new school’s invitational.

The first piece ended with a nice double forte.  We held our instruments high, blasting out our last note.  In unison with the drum major’s arms, we snapped our instruments down to attention, holding perfectly rigid, heads held high, in perfect formation on the field.  One of my section mates, Will, snapped his horn down a little too hard.  Something flew over my head, the glint of light reflecting off the shiny brass catching my eye.  It was his tuning slide!  Plop, it landed in the grass some feet in front of me, just behind another of our section members.

“Don’t move,” I could hear one of the first trombone’s mutter through gritted teeth from behind me.  But the guy in front of me either didn’t hear or didn’t listen.  While we were all standing straight at attention, waiting for the drum major to start our next song, the guy in front of me bent down and picked up the tuning slide.  He stood up, staying nearly at attention, holding the tuning slide over his shoulder as if expecting someone to take it from him. 

When the drum major called, “Band! Horns up!” to begin the next number and no one had relieved the poor guy of the tuning slide he never should have picked up, he dropped it and brought his horn up to play.  His first move was diagonally backwards,  exactly in the direction of the discarded tuning slide.  With the precise movement of a skilled marcher, he took a firm step backwards and marched right onto that tuning slide.

For him, that was the end of the tuning slide incident; the show went on as normal.  But for our two first trombones, it was only the beginning.  Without a tuning slide, it was not only impossible for Will to play, it was difficult for him to even hold up the horn.  Trombone tuning slides also contain a weight that balances out the heavy bell from the front of the horn.  But Will was big and strong even then, and he held the horn up and moved his slide as if he were actually playing.  Our section leader was left to carry the entire first part by himself, covering for the silent Will.  He pulled it off nicely.

At the end of the show, as we stood together at the side of the field, listening to our band director tell us what we did well and what we did wrong, our assistant band director approached the trombone section.  “Did anyone lose a tuning slide?”

The Lord’s Newest Super Angel - In memory of Angela Holland

She was like Elle Woods; one of those people who’s so amazing she makes you feel like you can do anything.  And I hate that I’m talking about her in the past tense.

Everyone gravitated towards Angie. You couldn’t help it. Her bubbly personality, her enthusiasm for everything, the sincere compassion that just oozed out of her being.  The only bad thing you could possibly say about her was that she was always so busy doing 1800 million incredible things that she’d probably be late to the 1800 millionth and one thing she was going to do with you.

Teach for America, Street Law, and probably scores of other projects I don’t even know about, Angie was always giving of herself.  And she was so smart.  She chaired the academic program for BLSA (the Black Law Students Association), and she wrote onto a journal (instead of getting on through the normal competition) and became Editor. For anyone who’s been to law school, you know how difficult it is to get on a journal, and she did it the harder way.

No matter how down and out you felt, Angie would lift your spirits.  When you felt excluded, she’d make sure you were part of the group.  And when you felt overwhelmed by all the things you had to do, you spent 5 minutes talking to Angie and felt like you had all the free time in the world.

Somewhere out there, a new angel with a big smile on her face is walking up to a someone in need, “Hey girl.”

Mr. Trizzle, Angie and her family/fiancé at VULS graduation 2008

 

 

(I almost got to see Angie just a few weeks ago. In DC for a friend’s birthday, I went to house warming party for another friend and Angie was likely to come to that party. Whether she went to the party or not, I don’t know. I had to leave pretty early to catch my flight back to California. I figured I’d see her soon enough at the Vandy reunion in a year or two. I was wrong. And now I’m on my way back to DC…)

Book Review: Wanted

I enjoy Amish-set fiction immensely.  These books always make for a nice break in between some heavy non-fiction. The ones I’ve read are usually pretty similar, love stories where one of the lovers is grieving the loss of their previous spouse or beau or and the other is struggling with their past while trying to win the grieving person’s heart. The focus on community and God are constant and one of the reasons delving into the books for an hour or two can be such a calming experience.

In Wanted by Shelley Shepard Gray, the main character is struggling with accepting her own behavior during her Rumpspringa. Her heart is set on a widower who is still grieving the loss of his wife in a buggy accident. It’s nothing out of the ordinary for these books, but it is a delightful read.

Apparently, this book is part of a series called Sisters of the Heart, which focuses on different characters during different books. I got the impression that this is the second book and that the first was about this main character’s older sister. I vaguely feel as though I may have read that book, but I honestly do not remember. That just shows it’s easy to pick up the book without needing to know about others from the series.

Good, simple, wholesome fiction. It’s like homemade apple pie for your soul.