I need a change of neighborhood

It must be the heat. Or the humidity. Or advancing age. I seem to be yearning for a change of scenery. Not necessarily a vacation; a real change.

Recently I was flipping through channels on TV and stopped on PBS. They were airing reruns of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.

That’s where I want to live.

I discovered Mr. Rogers when I was already a stressed-out adult. When I was a kid growing up, TV offered Captain Kangaroo who had an assortment of animal friends — Mr. Moose, Bunny Rabbit, Dancing Bear — and a farmer friend, Mr. Greenjeans. Nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. I don’t remember any female roles on the Captain’s show.

After I became a grownup, one day I came home after a lot of aggravation and stress and flipped on the TV and started channel surfing. Something about Mr. Rogers caught my attention. I hadn’t seen that program before. Right off the bat his voice soothed my shattered nerves. He was saying nice things to his TV friends and they were sincere, not snarky. His neighborhood was full of such interesting people doing interesting things, and he made it sound like I could come visit him and meet interesting people and do interesting things too.

He didn’t talk about politics. Oh, there was a King Friday XIII, but he was basically harmless. No one was troubled by violence or sickness or drugs. The neighborhood looked like it didn’t need a lot of negative rules to obey; everyone got along with each other. Mr. Rogers spoke of other neighborhoods, and the people in them were friends who visited and helped his neighborhood when they could. Everybody shared. All got along. And if there was a misunderstanding, it was soon sorted out. And there were women in the neighborhood, and nearby neighborhoods, who had important roles to play.

Mr. Rogers is long gone, but he and his neighborhood keep showing up on PBS. We all would benefit by taking some quiet moments and exploring Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood. There’s no BS with Mr. Rogers. As he would always say, “I like you just the way you are.”

Really, it shouldn’t be that difficult to find such a neighborhood. 

Who’s this Al Fresco guy anyway?

Lately as I drive around commercial areas, it amuses me to see a restaurant with a table and chairs sitting outside by the entrance. Sometimes there’s someone sitting there eating but mostly the table is empty.

Sometimes, there are two tables with chairs.

It’s become trendy to dine al fresco, but some places are missing the mark a bit.

Restaurants who do it right have a patio area off to the side or in front, an area with either a trellis covering the tables or tables with shady umbrellas for outdoor diners to sit under.

Those who go all out and have a corner location often have a tree-filled area behind the restaurant with outdoor lights that may or may not twinkle. There may be piped music or a small live ensemble. And the atmosphere is intimate and special. Especially if the establishment sprays for flying bugs.

But apparently some places want to offer al fresco seating but lack imagination as well as atmosphere.

I’m thinking of places that put a couple of tables and chairs smack dab on the sidewalk near the street so diners can get up close and personal with pedestrians on the sidewalk, while at the same time inhale exhaust from passing cars.

I recall one who had a little space off their parking lot, so they put a couple of tables and chairs off the lot and right next to the Dumpster.

What’s so great about eating outdoors? I can see a picnic in a secluded area with a lot of trees and maybe a picnic table. But if I’m going to go out to eat at a restaurant where someone else cooks and serves the food, then I want air-conditioning! Bring me napkins that won’t fly away when a car passes by, and I want to breathe in the tempting smells of the kitchen, not the noxious smells of a delivery truck pulling up.

C’mon folks. Put those tables and chairs inside. No one wants to sweat from 90-degree temperatures while waiting for their iced tea to arrive. No one wants to pick sidewalk shrapnel out of their salad after a car passes by. If you eat inside, stray dogs won’t beg for your food. And if a sudden storm pops up, the customers are going to have to bring their soggy food inside anyway. Might as well have the tables there ready for them.

Eating for Fun and Profit

Lately I’ve been hearing about Joey Chestnutt. He’s a professional competitive eater. Now there’s a booth you won’t see at the next job fair you go to.
Chestnutt was in the news recently because he won a contest on the Fourth of July by eating 72 Nathan’s hotdogs in 10 minutes. Think about it. Seventy–two hotdogs — and buns — comes to nine packages of hotdogs in 10 minutes time that went down his throat. That’s a package of eight hotdogs a minute! It’s 20,160 calories, 1,296 grams of fat, 2,160 mg of cholesterol, 56,160 mg of sodium, and 720 g of protein.
Joey Chestnutt won $10,000 for 10 minutes’ work. Some internet sources say his net worth is $800,000. He’s 33 years old and holds a degree in civil engineering. I guess he figured he needed something to fall back on in case this eating thing doesn’t work out.
He is not overweight. He conditions himself for competitive eating by fasting and stretching his stomach with milk, water and protein supplements. His weight varies between 225-240 pounds and he’s 6 feet, one inch tall. When he’s not competing he eats mostly vegetables, fish and chicken.
Since 2005, Chesnutt has traveled all over beating other competitive eaters at gobbling up hotdogs; he’s won the annual Nathan’s contest several times. He’s also competitively scarfed down 6.3 pounds of deep fried asparagus in 11 minutes; 32.5 grilled cheese sandwiches in 10 minutes; 182 chicken wings in 30 minutes; 15 pounds of shrimp in 8 minutes; 78 matzoh balls in 8 minutes; 70 bratwursts in 10 minutes; 141 hard boiled eggs in 8 minutes; and 55 4-ounce mutton sandwiches in 10 minutes. He even chugged a gallon of milk in 41 seconds.
There’s much, much more but I’m getting queasy just reading about it.
I have to wonder though, why? Chestnutt says it’s the challenge and the competition that attracts him. Couldn’t he play tennis instead? Or poker? Does he have an eating disorder only with an audience attached? I hope he is investing his money well, because when (not if) he develops gastrointestinal problems as he gets older, he’s going to need it.
One thing for sure though. Kids, if your mom tells you to finish your lunch because kids in Africa are starving, you can tell her, “No worries. Joey Chestnutt already took care of it.”