Author Archive: Christopher Waldrop

It’s A Living.

Author: March 22, 2025 1 Comment

There was a feature in an issue of MAD Magazine I read when I was eleven or twelve that was called something like “Jobs Someone Must Have”. I think everything I read in MAD was memorable to me because my mother wouldn’t buy it for me so whenever I saw an issue at a friend’s house I went straight to it. But this feature was memorable to because it was funny but also thought-provoking. It was jobs like “the person who paints the black dots on dice” and the only other one I can remember was “manhole cover designer”. Painting dots on dice is probably automated but designing sewer line covers is a real job. I wish I could remember the others because, even if it was tongue-in-cheek, there are a lot of jobs most of us don’t even realize are being done. And if I hadn’t already gotten the idea from MAD the summer I worked for a temp agency really made me think about it even more. Maybe you’ve walked by the end cap displays in a grocery store without thinking about them. I spent three weeks putting those together and moving them across a warehouse into trucks to be delivered across the country.

Manhole covers are just one example but they’re a distinctive one. Japan is famous for their unique designs, and because most I’ve seen are plain—at least the ones I happen to notice since I’m usually not looking down—it’s nice to see a distinctive one. Most large cities probably have some. Here’s just one list of some really incredible ones around the world.

The cover I photographed isn’t for a sewer line, of course, but is similar enough, and also someone had to design it. It happens to be outside the Blair School of Music. If you go into the library there you’ll see this. It’s not someone’s job to decorate the bust of Beethoven but I’m glad someone does. Anything that adds a little art to our lives is welcome.

American Graffiti.

Marching On.

Author: March 21, 2025 0 Comments

The Five Stages Of March:

  1. Denial.

It can’t possibly be March. Sure, February is the shortest month on the calendar, but it’s still too soon to be March. And too cold. It seems like just a week ago we were in the middle of January. How could it possibly be March already?

  1. Anger.

Fine, it’s March. It’s still too cold but the weather’s supposed to warm up a little bit the next week. And then go back to freezing after that. Later in the week we’ll get tornadoes. Yep, that’s definitely March and I hate it.

  1. Bargaining.

Can we get some consistent weather here, please? Is there anything I can do to make that happen? I promise I’ll wear my heavy coat to work in the morning and won’t complain about having to carry it home in the afternoon when everybody’s out wearing shorts.

  1. More bargaining.

I swear I’ll do anything if it will just get warm and stay warm. Or get cold and stay cold. I can’t tell if I’m coughing because I’ve got a cold or because of allergies.

  1. Extra special bargaining.

Yes, I said I wish I were on a beach somewhere but I didn’t mean I wanted flooding. Look, the kids get Spring Break. Isn’t it close enough to spring that I could catch a break here?

  1. This is definitely bargaining.

Of course it’s raining nails and tiny little Ernest Borgnines. It’s March. I think I’d better lay off the allergy medication.

  1. Back to bargaining.

This is the third time I’ve packed away my heavy coat and then had to pull it out again. If I just leave it out will the weather finally stay warm?

  1. Depression.

Sun is out. Birds are singing. Buttercups and lilies are popping up in yards. The grass is getting green. Everyone’s happy. Yep, it’s definitely March and I hate it. I’m just going to sit here wrapped up in my winter coat.

  1. Acceptance.

All right, spring really is finally here, the forecast shows nothing but high temperatures and clear skies. I’m going to go out for a walk in the park and just relax and enjoy myself. Time to break out the shorts and sandals.

  1. Acceptance, ten minutes later.

Blizzard.

Nature Talks., Not Non-Fiction, Quick Takes., Submitted For Your Approval., The Weekly Essay

Lucky Day.

Author: March 17, 2025 2 Comments

In recent years St. Patrick’s Day has become controversial because of a maligned and often caricatured minority. I’m referring, of course, to leprechauns. Reviled, mistreated, and still all too frequently portrayed as happy little figures sitting on toadstools smoking pipes even though increasingly they’re switching to e-cigarettes the leprechaun is still the object of prejudice and misconceptions. Many of us, in fact, have passed by or even worked alongside leprechauns, often without realizing it. In the interests of time I’ll just be addressing a few of the most common misconceptions here.

The first is the ancient belief that leprechauns are mischievous, even dangerous creatures. Stories of leprechauns luring travelers into bogs or inflicting injuries on those passing through wooded areas go back as far as the 8th century, but sociologists now agree that such behavior is not characteristic of leprechauns, and is, in fact, quite rare. While there may be some basis in truth for these stories it’s widely accepted that destructive behavior was the act of a minority among leprechauns who, feeling marginalized from the culture as a whole, acted out in anti-social ways. Unfortunately this misconception has been perpetuated and reinforced by stories that are still told to children, as well as in movies, such as the 1993 film Leprechaun, its many sequels including 2000’s Leprechaun in the Hood, and, of course, the 1980 Al Pacino movie Cruising.

There is also a less common misconception of leprechauns as helpful. There are stories of leprechauns discreetly doing farm work, including harvesting, milking cows, and repairing small machinery. Again there may be some basis for these stories, but not all leprechauns enjoy the outdoors or are suited for farm work. Many prefer to work in offices, or seek employment in fields such as shoemaking. This is, of course, not to say that all leprechauns are adept at working with footwear, but many did find this to be an accepted trade. It’s believed this originated from leprechauns making shoes for fairies who, being generally more accepted, would be asked by more common folk where they got such amazing stilettoes. Working as cobblers proved to be profitable even when leprechauns were subject to such fierce discrimination that they were kept out of most cities and towns and had to form their own exclusive villages, commonly known as leprechaulonies.

Stories of farmers rewarding helpful leprechauns with suits of clothes, only to find that the leprechauns considered this an insult and would disappear, may also have some basis in truth, mainly because you can’t expect a leprechaun to wear that coat with those pants, especially after Labor Day.

Finally we come to the most common and persistent belief about leprechauns: that they are hoarders of massive quantities of gold which they keep in pots at the end of rainbows. This belief has been so pervasive that attempts have been made to lure leprechauns with artificial rainbows by everyone from Sir Isaac Newton to the manager of the band Pink Floyd. As a belief it was understandable at a time when people regarded meteorological phenomena as magical, unlike now when it’s understood that rainbows are caused by the refraction of sunlight through water droplets suspended in dragon farts. Because rainbows rarely have ends that reach the ground it’s still not understood how exactly leprechauns could have kept their alleged pots of gold at the ends of rainbows, in spite of several theories advanced by folklorists and experiments attempting to hang pots of gold from rainbows using balloons. A frequently repeated tale is that a leprechaun, when caught, may be forced to give up the location of his pot of gold, but only if the person who caught him keeps his eyes fixed on the leprechaun. In stories of this type the leprechaun often escapes capture by telling the person who caught him that there’s a fierce beast or the Chrysler building just over his shoulder. Folklorists believe that there is some truth in this, but only to the extent that leprechauns seem to have invented the “made you look” joke. Also it’s now known that leprechauns are not inherently wealthy. While there are some who have enjoyed success—the heir to the Lucky Charms fortune, for instance, or Mickey Rooney—leprechauns are no more likely to be wealthy than the general population.

That concludes the lecture for today. In preparation for next week read pages 126-153, when we will be discussing genetic mutation and its potential for altering reality. Our lab work will involve real four-leaf clovers, but I’d better not catch any of you wishing for a better grade.

Adventures In Busing., Not Non-Fiction, Submitted For Your Approval.

Inspired.

Author: March 15, 2025 2 Comments

It’s been seven years now since I took that picture. I keep returning to it because it’s the first picture of graffiti I took, and while I’ve seen a lot that’s definitely better there is something special about it. I have no idea what the story behind it is. Maybe someone was practicing, warming up, or just bored and felt an urge to do something pointless. That’s just speculation. When I saw it I thought there was something funny about the way it just trailed off with a series of wave shapes. That made me think about how fickle inspiration can be. There have been times when I’ve been suddenly energized, feeling like I can do anything. Then, as soon as I sit down to write I come up with…nothing.

The conventional wisdom about inspiration is that you can’t force it. In classical literature poets often began by invoking one of the Muses, asking for help. At the beginning of The Amores Ovid acts annoyed that he planned to write a serious epic but Cupid interfered so he’s stuck writing love poems instead. Hey, take whatever you can get.

Anyway, while inspiration can’t be forced, sometimes it can be coaxed out. Several years ago I got a job writing about local art. My first assignment was to write about an exhibit by a visiting artist named Margo Kren. I wasn’t able to get in touch with her and there’d never been a formal opening so all I had to work with was the pictures themselves and a small pamphlet with a biographical blurb. I sat and looked at the pictures for a long time, unsure what to say about them. And I also thought a lot about the term deadline. I’d asked for the job, had been prepared to beg for it, and now I was faced with the terrible possibility that I’d miss my first, and possibly only, assignment. Unsure of what else to do I started describing the paintings. Though it happened slowly—I might even say painfully—I suddenly hit a nerve. Or an artery. I had pages and pages, but my hand couldn’t keep up with my head. In the end I had to cut it down significantly, and while I would use the same technique to write two more articles the magazine folded before they could be published. It was still a valuable lesson, though, and when it comes to writing I’ll take whatever I can get.  

American Graffiti.

Basket Case.

Author: March 14, 2025 3 Comments

People make fun of me when I tell them what I’m majoring in at college. They say “I thought that was just a joke!” Well, let me tell you, it does sound funny and a lot of us who major in it joke about it too, but there’s also a very serious side to it. Do you think basket weaving is easy? Have you ever tried it? Do it before you make jokes. There’s a lot more to it than just threading a strand around the spokes. That takes a lot of manual dexterity and also concentration and time. And you have to think about the materials you’re using. Wicker, reed, rattan, and bamboo all have to be handled differently, and each one can be woven in a wide range of styles. Those are just some of the most common materials, the sort of stuff you’d get from your local hobby shop, if it hasn’t gone out of business. If it has, well, you can buy a kit online if you want, but, as a college student, I’m also learning how to forage for as well as grow my own raw materials. If you think that’s easy then just try it. But don’t come crying to me when your willow tree dies because you didn’t know where to plant it.

Yes, I know, the process of making baskets can be mostly automated. Mostly. Who do you think designs and builds the machines that make baskets? Well, mostly engineers, but they need to consult with trained basket makers to know where to start. It’s all interrelated. And think about how useful baskets are. Let’s back up a bit. Think about the whole history of humanity and our reliance on handmade crafts. That kind of puts things in perspective, doesn’t it? Now think about all the things you can use baskets for: storage, carrying. Well, they can be decorative too. The point is, if you’ve got a nice basket for carrying things or storing things you’re not just going to throw it out. If you were going to do that you might as well use a plastic bag. Thanks for helping to trash the planet. And when’s the last time you heard about a kid suffocating inside a woven basket?

Great, so you want to know about the other part. That’s not easy either. What, do you think we just sit waist deep in a swimming pool? Or hold our breath while weaving? No, we go all in. We don’t have to do it but we like the extra challenge. And that’s what it’s all about: learning to overcome challenges. I realized that way back in fifth grade when my English teacher used to use “underwater basket weaving” as a metaphor for something useless that didn’t require any thought. Not that I’m knocking English. After all English majors know what I’m talking about. We even get the same questions. “What are you going to do with that?” I don’t know. How does creative problem solving, manual dexterity, and scuba certification look on a resume? Exactly. It’s not like I’m studying something so highly specialized it’ll only be applicable to one career path. If I wanted that I would have studied accounting.

Source: Tenor

Not Non-Fiction, Submitted For Your Approval., The Weekly Essay

Passing Through Uranus.

Author: March 13, 2025 1 Comment

Source: Wikipedia

On March 13th, 1781 the composer, musician, and amateur astronomer William Herschel looked through his telescope and realized what he’d initially thought was a comet was, in fact, a previously unknown planet. It was the first planet discovered in modern times and, after a lot of discussion, would eventually be named Uranus, after the primordial Greek god of the sky. Although it had been observed since ancient times it was so distant and so difficult to see it was assumed to be a star. The discovery that it was a planet is why I think Uranus deserves special recognition.

When Voyager 2 flew past Uranus in 1986 astronomers were unimpressed and thought it was a pretty boring planet. Since then interest in Uranus has picked up. Seasonal changes and wind speeds of 560 miles per hour have been found on Uranus. Its temperature of -200 degrees Celsius means Uranus is a very, very cold place. Until very recently it was thought to be the only gas giant that didn’t emit detectable heat. Now it’s been determined that it does emit heat, though less than Jupiter, Saturn, and Neptune. It also remains unusual for its axial tilt of 98 degrees, making Uranus the most lopsided planet in the solar system.

If space travel advances Uranus may someday also be very important as a launching point for missions leaving the solar system. The large quantities of methane in Uranus may even be a source of fuel, if we can tap into it. It’s fourteen times more massive than Earth so Uranus has a very intense gravitational pull. It’s also not easy to get there. Even traveling at the speed of light it would take an Earth ship almost two and a half hours to get to Uranus.

More terrestrially there’s the town of Uranus, Missouri, a small stopping point for tourists along the historic Route 66, where you can visit the Fudge Factory And General Store, and where, the mayor tells me, they have a special celebration every March 13th.

This is why I think Uranus Day is an event we can all get behind.

Source: Uranus Fudge Factory

Adventures In Busing., Happy Birthday., Keep Looking Up, Ramble With Me., Submitted For Your Approval., The Vault

Morning Light.

Author: March 10, 2025 2 Comments

The change to Daylight Saving Time this weekend meant that for the first time in months I left for work in the dark. Because my morning commute takes me almost due east there were a few days when I was driving right into the sun. Maybe that’s why this morning I was so conscious of the artificial lights I passed, still aglow in the rising dawn. If there’s an advantage to the time change it’s that it makes me more aware, although I may be unusual in that. While waiting at a red light I saw two guys in the middle of the cross street standing by a white pickup truck; there was a dark blue pickup truck right behind it. The blue pickup’s front was touching the white one’s back fender. They were both laughing about it and before the light changed they pulled into a parking lot, presumably to exchange insurance information, though from my vantage point I couldn’t see any damage.

It’s strange that I’d see an accident on my way to work. For one thing I don’t see many accidents anyway, and I’m grateful for that. But also at least one study has found that there’s a drop in accidents following the spring change to Daylight Savings Time, with an increase in the fall.

Seeing a small fender bender made me even more conscious of the road ahead as I drove into the dawn, streetlights winking out and lights still on in businesses and apartments dimming as I got closer to work, the sun still not over the horizon after I parked and walked across the roof of the parking garage.

Adventures In Busing., Quick Takes., Ramble With Me.

Like A Surgeon.

Author: March 8, 2025 2 Comments

Earlier this week I was walking across a college campus and passed by a poster offering help to students who are preparing to take the MCAT—the Medical College Admission Test that would-be doctors have to take, and pass, to start their real medical training. And it reminded me of a time from my own college days when my friend Jen took the MCAT. The day before she took it a bunch of us gathered in someone’s dorm room and made posters expressing our support and cheering her on. Most of the posters were the standard “GO JEN!” type, and they were really fun. One of our friends was an art student and hers were really good. She drew the MCAT as an actual cat, a supervillain with an “M” on its chest, being punched pour by Jen. I, however, am not an artist. I like to doodle, sketch, and even made a brief but disastrous attempt at oil painting, but that’s another story. However I was an English major so of course I’d taken Anatomy 101, not only to get that science credit out of the way but because I was, and still am, interested in science. I think that’s the nature of English majors, though, and writers generally: we’re curious about everything because anything can be material.

Jen, by the way, not only aced the MCAT but has had a long and successful career as a doctor. To celebrate that, and to cheer on all those preparing to take the test, and just for fun, I decided to recreate the posters I made. These aren’t too far off from the originals. Like I said I’m not an artist but a little knowledge can be a funny thing.

American Graffiti.

Look Before You Leap.

Author: March 7, 2025 2 Comments

When I was offered a golden parachute for my retirement I jumped at it. Well, not literally. The jump would come later because it turned out what they were giving me was an actual golden parachute. Literally. I don’t know how they got enough pure gold to make an entire parachute and it’s probably best not to ask. Sure, it’s just gold foil so it’s not exactly thick but it’s still a parachute. All folded up and in the pack ready to go. The thing’s got to weigh at least fifty pounds. I checked and the price of gold is close to $3000 an ounce right now. If I can find a place to cash all that in I really will be set for life. That’s the problem, though. It’s not like I can just walk into a pawn shop with fifty pounds of gold foil and expect them to buy it from me on the spot. Even if I can still find one of those cash for gold places I couldn’t expect them to have enough on hand to buy it all. If they could I’d need five, maybe six briefcases for all that cash. Okay, now I know I’m being ridiculous. They’d give me a check or maybe we could work out some kind of direct deposit. Even if they could, though, I’d be lucky to get the whole amount. Talk about flooding the market. It’s not like a few years ago when there was one of those cash for gold places on every corner and I could have made a separate stop at each one before they knew what hit them.

What about the taxes? Could I set up a Swiss bank account? How hard is it to do that? Or maybe one of those offshore deals in some place like the Cayman Islands. I would have looked into this if I’d known I was going to suddenly get this much gold. I guess I still have time, though.

Yeah, now that I think about it I realize I really don’t want to cash it in all at once. It would be better to break it up into little pieces and cash it in over six months or maybe a year. That would be smarter and even a little bit of gold is going to be enough to live on for a pretty long time.

That still leaves me with the question of whether I can sell it like it is. Are there places that take gold foil? Maybe I could find places that make statues, like the Oscars or something. Or those super fancy restaurants that put gold foil on desserts sometimes. But I doubt they’d want this much gold. Now that I have it, though, I’d kind of like to try one of those desserts. Hey, I could even make my own. Then I’d get the gold back. Yeah, that’s kind of gross but I still wouldn’t want to waste it.

Maybe it would be smarter to melt it down into little ingots or something. How hard could it be to melt gold foil? Oh, this says the melting point of gold is almost two thousand degrees. I guess it wouldn’t be that easy. Maybe I should buy a forge or something. I bet I can get one online for pretty cheap. Sure, I’ve got a big wad of gold right now but I still want to be smart about how I spend it.

Speaking of research I also need to figure out how to open this parachute. I never really thought about it before but I think this building’s got about twenty, maybe twenty-five floors. That’s got to be at least three-hundred feet. Should I check that? Never mind. I should be fine if I just pull the cord as soon as I’m in the air. But it’s almost five o’clock and that’s when they said they’d be throwing me off the building so I really need to figure this out.

At least I’m not stupid like Dan in the next cubicle who took the severance package. That cost him an arm and a leg.

Not Non-Fiction, Submitted For Your Approval., The Weekly Essay

I Feel Like A Dip.

Author: March 4, 2025 3 Comments

Bobbie’s Dairy Dip is open again. It closes every November and the owners used to put up a sign that said, “Closed for the season. Reason? Freezin’!” Maybe they stopped because they didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that they were closed, but I liked that sign. There was something bittersweet about it, knowing that, like migratory birds or hibernating animals, the ice cream stand was gone but would return with warmer weather. Well, it’s still not exactly warm. They reopened on a very chilly March 1st and when I passed by I didn’t feel like waiting in the very long line for a caramel milkshake, or even their special black bean and avocado burgers, though one of those would have been a nice way to warm up.

When I was a kid we didn’t eat ice cream in the winter. I don’t think it was ever explicitly stated, and there was no specific reason for it other than no one in my family seemed inclined to combine frozen weather with frozen food. There wasn’t even a specific time period; my mother just stopped buying ice cream once the cold weather settled in. I was aware of it but didn’t really think about why until I was visiting an aunt one January and she scooped up a couple of bowls of mint chocolate chip.

“We’re having ice cream in winter?” I asked. I wasn’t objecting—quite the opposite, really. It was just a very minor part of my worldview being, well, not shaken, but slightly altered. The aunt laughed and said, “Any time is time for ice cream.”

She was, and still is, right, of course, but there’s also something special about a place like Bobbie’s Dairy Dip only being there part of the year. The anticipation makes their ice cream so much sweeter.

Now I wish I had stopped and gotten a caramel milkshake. And I’m going to the next time I go by there. I won’t even wait for the weather to warm up.

Adventures In Busing.