It's My Buddy's Birthday!!!!

A much younger Van VanDeWalker and Rich Frost

Happy birthday, Van VanDeWalker!

Yup, my old buddy Van (who works for Animal Control in Macon, Georgia) is turning fifty-six today (which is something like three-hundred and ninety-two dog years, but who’s counting?). Van is probably going to be bombarded with birthday wishes from friends and family all day and who knows how many more people in the Macon area, that he has met in his day-to-day journeys with his famous dog, A.C. Pup, will shower him with even more love and birthday wishes. But, you wanna know something? If there’s anyone anywhere worthy of that love and attention – it’s Van VanDeWalker – who like me is proud is proud to say that he’s “from Flint, Michigan, damn it!!!”

What kind of guy is Van VanDeWalker? Well, let me put it to you this way – Van and I met each other some twenty-five plus years ago at WTAC Radio in Flint. We were both hired to work there when former newsman (now Genesee County Prosecuting Attorney) David Leyton purchased the station and switched the station’s format from country to talk. I arrived at the station at around 5:30 in the morning to find VanDeWalker already there preparing for his first newscast. After he introduced himself to me, Van asked me if I would like a cup of coffee from the pot that he just brewed up in the station’s mini-kitchen. When I told Van that I can’t drink caffeinated coffee (because of what it does to my blood pressure) and that I only drank decaf, he went on to compare decaffeinated coffee to female genitilia and it was then and there that I realized that Van and I were going to be friends forever.

Van and I have gone through a whole lot in the last twenty-five plus years. We have probably shared more good moments than we have bad and despite the fact that some eight hundred and eighty-one miles separate us -- our friendship continues to grow – thanks in a large part to the Internet. Both his wife, Traci and my girlfriend, Marty think that we are both a little nuts because we love to play Scrabble and have played it online for nearly nine years – talking trash with each other on the audio chat on Yahoo Instant Messenger as we play. And I will admit that Van is the better Scrabble player – and although I may bitch that I’m a lousy at the game – I wouldn’t mind losing every game, because it gives me a chance to be able to bond over the Internet with my buddy, Van.

Although we have never talked about it – I think that Van and I are a lot alike. If we could wave a magic wand – we would both be sharing our lives with the people that we love today but living in the town that we love and remember (Flint, Michigan), but know deep in our heart that our old hometown will never be like we remember it. And, it’s kind of frustrating that we can’t show our love ones just how great it was to live in Flint – because that city doesn’t exist anymore -- but Van and I remember and every so often it helps the both of us to keep that Flint connection going – because we’re from Flint, damn it! We feel more comfortable with a couple of coneys and a side of fries with gravy on it from Angelos than we would if we had to dine in some fancy four star restaurants.

Van and I both came from neighborhoods where people cared for each other and they watched each other’s back. We lived in neighborhoods where you knew everyone on your street and the street behind you – and if someone needed a hand – you extended yours and you helped them no questions ask. I’m sure that a lot of what Van experienced from living in the kind of neighborhoods in Flint that he lived in, has made him a better person and an even better animal control officer in Macon, Georgia.

You can’t deny it, Van….today is your birthday….and you’re from Flint, damn it! I wish I could be with your personally to celebrate your birthday and I hope you accept my virtual birthday gift of a basket filled with Koegel hot dogs, a week’s worth of Halo Burgers with olives with an endless stream of Vernor’s Crème Ales, a couple of Big John Steak and Onion barbeque steak and onion subs, and some Ya Ya chicken. And, I if you look deep in the virtual birthday gift box – there’s also all the Flint Journals that you have missed reading since you moved to Georgia and, although it’s not from Flint, I threw in a couple of can cases of Tim Horton coffee – only to satisfy your “Hockey Night In Canada” lovin’ taste buds.

Happy birthday, Van!!!

The Day I Took On City Hall

(Photo of Flint City Hall from Google Earth)

I was a bit of a nerd growing up in the city of Flint, Michigan in the late 60s and 70s. It’s not that I was the kind of nerd that wore glasses with thick ass lens that were held together with bent paper clips and scotch tape. And, I wasn't one of those nerds who had all of his writing pens neatly arranged in his pocket protector, but I was a nerd nonetheless. On Monday nights, when most kids my age would be listening to people like Wild Willie on WTAC, I would be tuned in to listening to Flint City Council meetings that aired live on WFDF. (And for you trivia buffs -- The council proceedings lead-in show on WFDF was the syndicated "Joe Pyne Show") Did I understand anything that I heard that was taking place at City Hall? Hell no, but I listened anyway.

Eventually my interest in City Council got a point where I had to see a City Council meeting for myself. I couldn't tell you what was discussed at that first meeting that I attended, but I got to see my government at work, along with the added attraction of watching the media cover the event. WFDF’s Les Root was always there covering the meetings and if there was something big going on – the news cameras from Channel 12 and Channel 5 were there to film it. (Yeah, film – this was long before video tape and live camera shots.)

The one part of the meetings that I enjoyed would be when the Mayor would open the floor to the citizens to address the council. It was the only time during the meeting that seemed real to me – there was none of that structured “rules of order” – it was a chance to people vent their views in front of their elected officials. Occasionally someone said something that would piss off someone on the council, but most of the time the people who came up to the microphone had positive things to say – unlike the night that I spoke before the council..

I was in 10^th grade at Flint Northern and I saw a police car that had a bumper sticker on it that read: “You don’t like the police, the next time you’re in trouble call a hippie”. There was a couple of reasons why I got angry when I saw that bumper sticker on a Flint police car – first, the bumper sticker singled out a group of people unfairly and secondly, I didn’t think that the bumper of a taxpayer-funded police car should have a bumper sticker on it promoting anything. So, along with a couple of friends there for support, I nervously spoke my peace before the Flint City Council. There was not one comment pro or con from any member of the Council, but I quickly discovered that my comments didn’t fall of deaf ears.

You can imagine the surprise on my face the next day when I read the Flint Journal and they printed a pretty lengthy summary of my comments before the Flint City Council. The Flint Journal reporting back then not only included my name, but my address as well. Everybody I knew in school saw the article and for a day or so I was a mini-celebrity for speaking my mind.

I quickly discovered that other people read the article in the Flint Journal, too – because I also got a couple of letters in the mail. The first letter that I received was in support of what I said, but not the second letter. About two pages in length – the second letter was unsigned and hate-filled with the writer somehow figuring out that I was a “nigger lover on welfare” just from the comments that I made before the Council. And, if that wasn’t enough – the writer let me know that if I didn't like this country that I should move to Canada. As funny as I thought that unsigned letter to be, I also kept in mind that this person also knew where I lived.

Nothing was ever done about the bumper sticker, and maybe it was a coincidence, but it wasn’t too long after that that the Fraternal Order of Police (or some other group like that) had billboards put up all over town showing police in a positive light. Did my little speech accomplish anything? Probably not, but at least I had my say and I discovered first hand that you might not be able to take on city hall – but you can let them know how you feel – even when you’re just a nerdy kid in 10^th grade.

You Can Take Me Out Of Flint, But You Can't Take The Flint Out Of Me

Paul's Pipe Shop in Downtown Flint

You can take me out of Flint, but you can’t take the Flint out of me.

When I moved to the Port Huron area from Flint some twenty years ago – there were a lot of things that I missed about my old hometown – first and foremost – The Flint Journal. When you live in Flint, you can bitch and complain about the newspaper, it’s only when you move to another town and it’s not delivered to your doorstep daily that you realize just how much you miss it. Back then, the Flint Journal had substance and girth compared to the ultra light Gannett owned Port Huron Times Herald – a newspaper with sections as large as ten whole pages. There were occasions when I would drive this store in the city of Capac (about twenty-three miles away) that carried the Sunday Flint Journal and buy a copy to take home to read. I kind of felt like one of those people who make a big deal about buying the Sunday New York Times and then dedicate their whole day to doing the crossword puzzle and devouring every page and article in the paper – except I was doing it with a Flint Journal….imagine that.

When I moved to Port Huron – I didn’t know a lot of people and some nights my entertainment consisted of coming home from work and eating what I call “a Flint dinner” while watching television. I didn’t have HBO or Showtime – just basic cable – but occasionally my friend (the late Jack Hood from Rainbow Video) would send me a box of screener movies that he had received that I could watch while eating dinner. This dinner was not a healthy dinner by any stretch of the imagination – but it was filling – and it was pure Flint. I would go to the local store in Port Huron and grab a the biggest package of Koegel’s polish sausage that I could find – fry them in a pan on the stove and would then plate it with the perfect Flint companion food -- Paramount potato chips (which were still available at the time). Now that’s a dinner!

Here’s another thing that I took for granted in Flint that I couldn't get in Port Huron some twenty years ago – bagels! I’m not talking about those Lender-like bagels that you can find in the bakery section at Meijer – I’m talking about real bagels like you use to find at Pumpernik’s when they were in business. What I would have given for one of those huge crusty bagels from Pumpernik’s with my morning coffee. Twenty years later, there’s still no place in the Port Huron area where you can purchase real bagels – so anyone who’s reading this where you can purchase real bagels – enjoy them and whatever you do -- don’t take them for granted.

You can’t write about memories of Flint without mentioning the one other item other than cars that Flint is known for – the coney island hot dog. About three months after I moved to Port Huron, I decided that I would go to lunch at the downtown coney island and I got into a discussion about coneys with the cook behind the grill there. The discussion about Flint coneys compared to Detroit/Port Huron coneys is similar to the pizza debate that people of New York and Chicago have over their pies. This cook would have nothing to do with a Flint-style coney, and if I remember right, he made some disparaging remarks about Angelo’s in particular. All I can remember is thinking was how much of a bastard this guy was – how dare he insult the Flint style coney – especially after you have eaten one of his runny ass chili slop dogs. Don’t let anyone disparage the Flint coney dog – they’re definitely in a league of their own!

A lot has changed in twenty years. The Flint Journal has been downsized to a three-day a week newspaper – but even at that – it’s still a better read than the Port Huron Times Herald. I no longer have “Flint dinners” – although I am able to have coney nights with my family – thanks to those big delicious bricks of coney sauce that we purchase from Abbott’s Meats just about every time we visit the Flint area. Then, there are the bagels – and there’s not a whole hell of a lot we can do about that.

The Flint Journal, Pumpernik bagels, Koegel polish sausage, Paramount potato chips and Flint-style coney islands. Some of them have changed. Some are gone. Some remain. Along with those items – there are other things about Flint that I have pleasant memories of that have shaped me into the person that I am today…such as: having my picture taken in the four for a quarter photo booth at Kresge’s, ice skating with friends at Whaley Park, seeing the movies “A Hard Day’s Night” and “Woodstock” at the Palace, buying my first FM radio at Montgomery Wards, and even bumping into my old high school classmate Melvin McCree buying lottery tickets at Paul’s Pipe Shop.

I have pleasant memories of being a child and checking out “A Cat In The Hat” from the library at Potter school, eating fish n’ chip dinners from St. Leo the Great on Friday nights, enrolling in the summer radio workshop at WFBE, learning road safety at Safetyville and cooling off on a hot summer day in pool at Kearsley Park.

I enjoy where I’m living today and the life that I have in the Port Huron area, but I can’t deny the impact that living in Flint has had on me. Ask anyone who has left Flint for other cities and other towns and I’ll bet you a dime to a Dawn’s Donut they’ve got stories, too…because it’s like I said earlier….You can take someone out of Flint, but you can’t take the Flint out of someone who’s lived there.