Mike Davis
1947-2022

Written by Rick Archer
November 2022
 

My friend Mike Davis passed away recently, October 14 to be exact.  He was 75.  Mike was the husband of Jan Davis, a popular member of the Houston Dance Community as well as my long-time assistant in the Chapelwood dance class on Mondays.  For those who did not know him, Mike bore a strong resemblance both in looks and personality to James Carville, the wise-cracking political satirist on cable news. 

Mike was not your normal guy, but I would not call him 'weird'.  Mike never expressed any weird thoughts such as UFOs and aliens in outer space, so I will stick up for the guy and say he had most of his marbles.   However Mike was definitely eccentric.  As we shall see, I have plenty of evidence to prove it.

 

The Adventures of Mr. Peabody
 

Mike's wife called him 'Bunny'.  I would love to know the story behind that.  As for me, I called him 'Mr. Peabody'.  So who is Mr. Peabody?  Anyone over 50 is certain to know who Mr. Peabody is, but for younger people such as Mike's lovely daughter Melissa, an explanation is in order. 

'Rocky and Bullwinkle' was a fabulous cartoon series from the late 50's and early 60's.  It was brilliantly written in a way that made me, age 10, laugh the whole way through.  Meanwhile the inside jokes went right over my head and made my mother roar.   In addition to the Rocky and Bullwinkle stories and Fractured Fairy Tales, I love the recurring segment known as Mr. Peabody (a dog) and his adopted son Sherman (not a dog).  

Mr. Peabody is the smartest being in existence, having graduated from Harvard when he was 3 ("Wagna cum Laude" ha ha ha).  Peabody has accomplished many things in his life such as business magnate, inventor, scientist, Nobel laureate, gourmand, and Olympic medalist in the decathlon.  One day Peabody saves a young boy named Sherman from a group of bullies.  Discovering Sherman is an orphan, Peabody decides to adopt him.   As one might guess, every episode revolves around Mr. Peabody sharing wisdom with Sherman and finding new ways to demonstrate how exceptional he is.  

Enter Mike Davis.  From what I gather, Mike was a rocket scientist who worked at NASA in its glory years.  I would imagine a person has to be smarter than the average guy to hold a position like that.  If so, Mike definitely qualified.  He was a very bright guy, maybe even a genius like Mr. Peabody. 

 

PENTE (pronounced Pen-tay)
 

Mike was not a boastful man, but then he did not need to be.  His superiority in so many different walks of life made the point for him.

And how do I know this?  Well, it is a little painful to share this story, but I guess I will swallow my pride and confess.  There's this board game known as Pente (Greek word for five).  Pente is sort of like Tic Tac Toe, but more complicated.  Unlike chess or checkers where only two can play, several people can play Pente at once.  You take turns putting stones down on a grid.  First person to get five stones in a row wins.  Another way to win is to trap the other person's stones.  First one to capture 10 stones wins.  The beauty of this game is its simplicity to learn.  The rules are so easy it takes five minutes or less to start playing.  However, once the game begins, it turns out to be trickier than people thought.

I liked Pente from the moment I learned it.  Easy to learn, the games are over fast, fun to analyze and strategize.  I was good at it.  Very good.  Very good as in 'undefeated' good.  I took to this game like a duck to water.  Plus I didn't play fair, a minor failing of mine.  Since very few people had ever heard of this game, I would bring it with me on every cruise trip organized by my wife Marla.  Using my stock phrase, "easy as Tic Tac Toe", I would lure various unsuspecting guests into giving the game a try, then proceed to ruin their day.  By the end of the trip, I always had at least ten new victims who never liked me to begin with. 

At any rate, one day during our 2015 Sock Hop/Caribbean cruise trip, Mike wandered over to my table and said, "Hey, what's that game you've got there?"

I did not know Mike very well at the time, but I smelled a victim.  "Oh, gosh, this is a kid's game called Pente.  You should try it.  It's easier than Tic Tac Toe."

"Oh, really?  Show me how it works."

Mike beat me the first game we played.  I was STUNNED.   He beat me the second time, the third time, the fourth time, the fifth time.  And get this... none of the games were close, not a single one.  It was like the Old West where the gunfighter eventually meets someone who is faster. 

Overwhelmingly humbled, I asked Mike to tell the truth.  "Have you played this game before?"

Mike grinned.  "Oh, sure, several times."

"Does anyone ever beat you?"

"Nah."

"Am I as bad as I think I am?"

"Oh, no, not at all, Rick.  You're actually pretty good.  You take much longer to lose than most people."

That was the last time I ever brought Pente with me on a cruise trip.  Confronted by my mediocrity, Mike had taken all the fun out of the game.   In the process I reached a firm conclusion.  Mike Davis was a very smart guy who occupied a level of intelligence inaccessible to me.

 

DANCING ON THE HIGH SEAS
 

One year later, Jan called to sign up for Marla's 2016 Greek Isles trip.  I suppose I should explain a special quirk common to both Jan and Mike.  They were very paranoid about getting their house robbed while at sea.  Consequently they objected to having their real names posted on my 'Who's Going' list.  They feared some criminal mastermind at the dance studio might notice they would be out of town for a week and rob their home in their absence.  So I began listing them under names like Mrs. Mystery and Mr. Anonymous for their own protection.

What will I call them this year?  I suggested the usual Mr. and Mrs. Mystery.  Jan didn't like that anymore, so I suggested Mr. and Mrs. Banana.  Jan didn't like that either.  After all, everyone knows who 'Jana Banana' is.  Jan said I needed to do better.  In a flash of inspiration, I suggested I list them as Mr. and Mrs. Peabody.  Jan said perfect.  After all, we both agreed her husband was Peabody kind of brilliant.  Mike liked the new name as well.  He understood this title was a form of respect on my part.

As it turns out, there is a good story from that trip.  Yvette, one of the guests, invited her non-dancer sister Arlene to come along.  One night on the trip the band was playing Oldies Motown music, Supremes, Shirelles, Aretha, Smokey Robinson, Marvin Gaye and so on.  Great Jitterbug music.  Marla noticed Yvette's sister Arlene was sitting alone while everyone else in the group was on the floor dancing including Jana Banana.  As an act of kindness, Marla went over and invited Arlene to partner dance the Jitterbug with her.  A weird look came over Arlene's face, but after a moment of hesitation she said okay.  To Marla's surprise, Arlene did a lot better than she expected. 

In the middle of the song, Mr. Peabody came over to Marla.  "Marla, there's no one for me to dance with.  All the women are taken and I don't have a woman to ask.  Why don't you two women split up and you can dance with me?" 

Marla did not see a way to make Arlene and Mr. Peabody happy at the same time, so she quipped, "I'm busy.  Why don't you go ask Rick to dance?  He knows the girl's part." 

Mr. Peabody left and Marla resumed dancing with Arlene.  At the end of the song, Marla said, "You did great, Arlene!  I really enjoyed dancing with you!"

Only one problem.  The woman replied, "I'm not Arlene.  My name is Gloria.  You must have me confused with someone."

Marla turned white.  Taking a quick look, Marla swore Gloria and Arlene could have been twins.  Deeply embarrassed, Marla apologized profusely to Gloria. 

Arlene smiled and said, "Oh, no problem.  I'm really glad you asked me to dance.  That was fun!  Ask me again later!"

At the same time there was another unfolding story.  Mike took Marla seriously.  He came over and asked me to dance.  "Darn it, Rick, all the women are taken.  I really like this song and you'll have to do."

I cracked up.  Mike was completely serious.  So who am I to deny Mr. Peabody his heartfelt wish?   Consequently I got up and placed myself in his arms.  "Okay, Tarzan, you lead, I'll follow." 

Mike took my cue and we were off to the races.  "Wow, Rick," Mike said, "you know all my moves."

"Mike, of course I know all your moves.  I taught them to you."

"Oh yeah, I forgot."  And so Mike resumed Jitterbugging the night away. 

At the end of the song I was curious, so I asked Mike how I did as a girl.

"Oh, Rick, you were great.  You follow so much better than my wife does."

 

bunny, dear, WHY IS THE COFFEE TABLE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR?
 

Still nursing a grudge from my Pente humiliation, later in the trip I let it slip that Jan's husband had disrespected her dancing.  Oh, you should have seen the smoke!  Troublemaker that I am, Mikey was in Serious Bunny Trouble.  The next thing I knew, Jan decided to share some of the family secrets.  This is when I learned about the time Mike nearly burned down the house.  Here's the funny thing about it.  As Jan described it, her husband was like some sort of idiot savant.   I loved it!  This was my big chance to sneak the word 'idiot' into the story.   I should be a better person.  That's my sour grapes from Pente talking.  A more accurate phrase for Mike might be "Absent-Minded Professor".  However, the cat was out the bag.  According to Jan, Mike was definitely a space cadet in more ways than one.  Jan had one firm rule for Mike... stay out of the kitchen for his own safety.  Only one problem.  Mike was not the obedient type.  One day Jan was gone and Mike was hungry.  Let's cook bacon!

Meanwhile Mike got distracted.  Maybe the phone rang.  Maybe the dog scratched on the door.  Who knows?  The upshot is he walked away from the kitchen until his nose detected smoke, a sure sign to return in a hurry.  OMG, the bacon was on fire!  Unsure what best to do, Mike grabbed a potholder and tried to carry the burning pot outside.  He didn't make it.  The pot was so hot Mike only got halfway before the heat made it impossible to hold on any longer.  Mike dropped the pot on the living room carpet, then grabbed something, maybe a large pillow, to snuff out the fire. 

Only one problem.  The pot had burned a giant hole in the carpet.  One would think this was a disaster, but not for a bright guy like Mike.  He had a solution... move the furniture!

Indeed, there was a nearby coffee table where they stored magazines and such that was the perfect size to disguise this spot.  The coffee table had once resided next to the couch, but when Jan got home it was prominently displayed in the exact center of the living room.  Mike was very proud of himself. 

Only one problem.  Jan didn't want it there.  "Bunny Honey, I don't want this table here.  It is right in the way of where we walk back and forth through the living room and I don't want to walk around it.  Plus I have nowhere to put my diet coke when I read.  Will you please put it back where it belongs?"

"But I really like having the table here!" said Mike pleadingly. 

I do not know how long it took Mike to capitulate, but we all know he never had a chance.  When it comes to arguments about furniture placement, women always have the final say.  So now Jan was staring at a giant hole in her carpet. 

"Uh, Bunny dear, is there something you're not telling me?"

 

math homework
 

Melissa is an only child.  From what Jan tells me, her daughter is very smart in addition to being slender, beautiful, funny and kind.  As one might guess, Jan is never at a loss for nice things to say about Melissa, but she has one compliment she loves to mention any chance she gets.   Based on what Jan says, Melissa is a top-notch attorney.  Not just good, but Really Good.  Jan claims that Melissa has never lost a trial.  Given that Melissa was raised by two very intelligent parents, it is probably true.  I could be wrong, but my memory suggests Melissa once defended a case to the Texas Supreme Court and won. 

Jan was very complimentary of Mike as a father.  However, even as a father, Mike had his odd quirks.  Jan could barely contain herself as she shared her favorite story about Mike and Melissa.  When Melissa was in the third grade, the new math subject was Long Division.  200 divided by 10,  72 divided by 12 and so on.  A bit unsure of herself on a math homework problem, Melissa decided to ask Dad for some help.  Mike was delighted!  This was the first time his daughter had ever asked for help. 

So what does he do?  Mike began to teach Melissa about algorithms.  Or maybe it was logarithms.  Or maybe it was iambic pentameters.   Whatever it was, Dad's explanation was way beyond Melissa's 8 year old ability to understand.  Nevertheless, showing unusual tact for her age, after listening for four hours, Melissa said, "Thanks, Dad, I really appreciate your help!" 

Then she went to Mom for the answer. 

 

the riverboat gambler
 

Jan has been assisting in my Chapelwood class for at least eight years, maybe even longer.  Her house is in Friendswood.  Chapelwood, the church where I teach dance on Mondays is located in the Memorial area roughly 30 miles away from Friendswood.  Back when I lived in the Heights, my house was 10 miles from Chapelwood.  Jan asked if she could drive to my house and accompany me the rest of the way to Chapelwood.  Of course.  We both enjoyed the company.  It was a definite win for me because Jan let me tell at least one stupid joke per trip.  Jan understood listening to the obligatory joke was the price of the ride.  Unlike Marla who groans every time she hears the same joke for the thousandth time, Jan is more diplomatic.   Employing the same trick Melissa used on her father's math advice, Jan always managed to fool me into thinking my jokes were actually funny.   

Content that Jan sincerely liked my jokes, I would spend the rest of the drive asking Jan questions about how her daughter was doing up in Austin, her giant dog Rosie plus any news concerning her overly-bright husband.   One day a precious tidbit fell into my lap.  Bunny is a Card Shark!  Considering I already had the guy pegged as Mensa after the Pente debacle, why was I not surprised?

 I may not get the facts perfect, but I can come close enough to get the point across.  From what I gather, Mike used his uncanny poker skills to pay his way through the University of Alabama.  Now I realize there is room for exaggeration here, but Jan swore up and down that Mike was the proverbial riverboat gambler back in college.  I was quite impressed to learn this guy was so bright that he paid his way through college using earnings from playing poker in backwoods gambling joints.  Considering "Deliverance" wasn't shot too far from this neck of the woods, the wonder is Mike didn't get shot or have his fingers broken like the movie "Hustler" for robbing these guys blind.

Jan was not done yet.  She said whenever the family got low on funds, she would say, "Bunny, it's time for you to make another trip to Vegas."  Mike never failed to bring home the bacon.  Hmm.  Maybe I should use a different phrase. 

Another area of Mike's expertise was Bridge.  He was a master player, probably good enough to have competed at a very high level.  Instead he settled for terrorizing the local population of Friendswood amateurs.  He had a reputation for over-bidding every hand, then infuriating his opponents by consistently making his gambles work.  Mike always seemed to know who held what card in their hand and where the finesse would work.

As it turned out, it was Mike's ability to play Bridge that first caught Jan's attention.  I guess there was a Bridge club at college.  Jan, a smart oatmeal cookie in her own right, was drawn to Mike's ability to dominate everyone he played.  In Jan's words, Mike did not select her as mate, she selected him.  A man without a wife is not complete, but once Mike married Jan, he was finished. 

 

LIGHTS IN THE HEIGHTS
 

And now for our final story about Mr. Peabody.  We start with some background on a yearly Holiday event known as 'Lights in the Heights'.  I lived in the Heights for over 40 years.  The Heights is a lovely, quite sedate neighborhood that dates back to the early days of Houston.  Located close to downtown, the ancient oak trees are so huge that in many places they form a canopy over the streets.  Tough to grow grass without sunlight, but the shade is wonderful for long walks in summertime. 

Another thing that makes the Heights special is the unique Victorian-style architecture that predominates.  There are many lovely Dickens-style homes complete with elaborate wraparound porches.

So what is 'Lights in the Heights'?   As Christmas approaches, on the second Saturday of every December, an area known as Woodland Heights dedicates several specified blocks for an evening festival.  The huge crowd that attends is reminiscent of the old-time tradition of community block parties. 

In order to make Lights in the Heights special, the people who live in the homes along the walking route go out of their way to decorate lavishly.  In addition, many homes hire local bands to play live music on their porches and verandas.  It is almost impossible to walk a block and not run into another band playing everything from traditional carols to old time rock 'n roll. 

Incidentally, the route for Lights in the Heights is changed every year.  In this way, the burden of decorating one's home for the event only falls on a homeowner every three years or so. 

So what exactly does one do at Lights in the Heights?  Mostly you walk around and enjoy the festive night.  It's fun to watch various people in the crowd who get all dressed up in crazy Christmas costumes.  I'm not sure why, but there are more Elvis sightings than Santa sightings.   If the music's good, sometimes you dance.  Like I said, there are live bands who get hired to perform on the porches of homes along the route.  As one might gather, Lights in the Heights is popular.  It is also unique.  I can't think of anything similar at Christmas time to compare.  You should definitely check it out if you have never attended.

Another fun feature is the Dinosaurs.  A man living across the street from Norhill Park (part of the route) decided to create giant colorfully lighted dinosaurs and place them in the park.  Wow!  The ten 16-foot tall dinosaurs were a sight to behold.  They quickly became the Must-See highlight of the night.  Great place for family pictures.  And what do dinosaurs have to do with Christmas?  Who cares.  They were too cool to drool.  People came from all over the city just to see how wonderful they are.  I do not know who the man was responsible, but one of these days I want to knock on his door and thank him for his immense contribution to my yearly enjoyment.

Due to my many years living in the Heights, I probably attended 30 times.  Over the years, I would notice how the size of the crowd had grown due to word of mouth.  At any given time there are several thousand people walking side by side spread out over a dozen blocks.  No one minds the crowd too much because the mood is always mellow and cheerful.  Plus there are cops around to handle the drunks.  However, there are so many people the sidewalks are simply not wide enough to handle the immense traffic.  As a result, the participants have no choice but to walk in the street.  Back in the early days of this event, it was incredibly irritating to walk in the street and be interrupted by some stupid car driven by people too lazy to walk.  Every time a car would come through, everyone was forced to get out of the way.   Furthermore, this was a fatal accident waiting to happen if a driver got distracted.

The traffic was such a huge problem that in the early 2000s someone had a brilliant idea.  Why not ask the City of Houston to provide  policemen to man street-closing barricades?  The motion passed, probably because the Mayor lived in the Heights.  Whoopee, no more cars to dodge!  Once they roped off those streets, the event took off. 

The event really took off once cars were prohibited.  This was wonderful!  No cars!  Ah, Safety is bliss.  We could relax now.  No more looking over our shoulders for danger.  However, as we know, new solutions can create unexpected problems.   Thousands of visitors means thousands of cars.  Where will the visitors park?  Answer: along the streets of adjoining neighborhoods (including my street).  Depending on what time you get there, most people are forced to park anywhere from one to three miles away, anywhere from 20 to 40 minutes of walking in both directions.  You are already tired of walking by the time you get there.  Plus it takes forever to negotiate all the standstill traffic caused by people searching endlessly for a spot to park. 

The traffic problem gave Marla and I an idea.  The festival was within easy walking distance from our house, a mere half mile, 10-15 minutes at most.  Since parking close to the festival was a premium benefit, people were lucky to park at houses like mine within easy walking distance.  So the early birds got the worm.   But what to do for an hour or so till the festival begins??  Why not hold an annual party and make it easy for our friends to conveniently park at our house and attend Lights in the Heights as a group?  Come early, enjoy a potluck dinner, share some Christmas spirits, then walk over to the festival when it gets dark. 

One year there was a certain newcomer, Mr. Peabody.  And yes, his lovely wife Jana Banana was with him.  Considering Mr. Peabody was one of the guys who put astronauts on the moon and brought them home alive, I had great respect for his intellect.  However, the events of the night would call his reputation for genius starkly into question.

Ordinarily it takes about an hour and a half to walk the full route from our house to the far end of the festival and back again.  However, on this night we stretched the event into a leisurely three hour stroll amidst comfortable 60° weather.  The group frequently stopped to listen to the various bands.  If we liked the music we would often dance there in the street spurred on by an admiring crowd of non-dancers.  Other times we stopped to admire the dinosaurs and the beautifully decorated homes. 

However, as I anticipated, my group was facing a major problem.  How would we stick together? 

Indeed, the perfect weather had encouraged a record crowd.  Since our group numbered close to 20, it was easy to get separated.  Here in the dark, people could stand still and disappear in the throng if someone moved in front of them.  Your friends might be no more than 10 feet away, but it was tough to see them if they were not tall.  Anticipating how easy it would be to get lost, I made sure EVERYONE had a map to get back to my unlocked party room "just in case". 

Fortunately  everyone in the group was very careful to stick together.   Everyone, that is, except one person.  Take a guess. 

 

THE ODYSSEY OF MR. PEABODY
 

When Mr. Peabody disappeared, I was not worried.  Hey, the guy has a map!  However, Jana Banana was more aware of her husband's shortcomings than me.  Panic-stricken, Jan begged me to retrace our steps down the street while she went ahead to explore further up the street.  Surely one of us would find him.  Nope.  We both failed to locate the wanderer.  Mr. Peabody was long gone and Jana Banana was frantic

I told Jan to calm down. 

"Don't worry, Mike has a map and we left the door unlocked.  All he has to do is walk home and wait for us.  Plus I am sure he will call you any minute now and we will find him that way."

I was wrong.  Unlike his wife who knew better, I had no idea who we were dealing with.  With memories of burning bacon haunting her like the Ghost of Christmas Past, Jan had every right right to be worried. 

If memory serves, Mr. Peabody was lost anywhere from 30-45 minutes.   Fortunately, Mike and Jan were eventually reunited, so all's well that end's well.  I expected that would be the last I would I would hear of it, but I was wrong again.  Something very peculiar happened.  I think Jan told Mike I deserved an explanation, but I do not know this for a fact.   What I do know is the next day Mike went to the trouble of sending me a lengthy email.  Huge mistake.   Most people would say nothing and allow me to forget all about it.  But not our friend Mr. Peabody.  Chagrined at getting lost, he felt the need to explain.   

Rick's Note: 

Since Mr. Peabody refers to many streets in his letter, I was able to reconstruct his journey with great accuracy. 

Look for the corner of Norhill and Bayland.  That is where the Dinosaur Park is located.  Use the Dinosaur Park to orient yourself to my Infamous Map. 

Since I was closely involved in the rescue effort, I will periodically weave my version of the story inside Mr. Peabody's recollections.

(Note to Reader: The following story explains why you should never send a tell-all email to a Memoir Writer.)

The Odyssey of Mr. Peabody begins:

"Dear Rick, I would like to address my misadventures from last night.  Firstly, I thoroughly enjoyed the company, but got to see more of the lights than I intended to! My deepest apologies to everyone involved if by chance I caused the walk to be extended while looking for a poor lost soul... me. Thanks to all for not giving up on me.

Without further ado, here is what happened:

I really enjoyed listening to an old Eagles favorite, "Peaceful Easy Feeling", as it was sung by one of the local bands.  One of my favorite lyrics in the song is "I'm already standing on the ground".  When the song was over, I realized I was the only one from our group still "standing on the ground".  The group had disappeared.  Not to worry.  With Rick's trusty map in my pocket, what could go wrong? I assumed my lovely wife was still with the group so I wasn't worried about her safety."

[Rick's Note: I had been standing just a few feet from Mr. Peabody listening to the same song. I wanted to stay longer because this band was really good.  However, when I looked up and saw our group was moving, I disengaged. I am fairly certain that Mr. Peabody was in so much rapture he never noticed us go.  I suppose he stuck around for the next song.

The route for Lights in the Heights was not complicated.  Four streets created a rectangle.  My map showed people how to get from my house to the rectangular route and back again.

Considering a ten-year old could negotiate that map, to this day I wonder why Mr. Peabody was so helpless.]

The Odyssey of Mr. Peabody continues:

"I assumed the group would be difficult to find, so I was on my own. I decided to enjoy a few more Christmas lights, then use the map to go back to meet the group at Rick's house.  Alas, here in the dark, the only visible streets on the map were the ones in bold print -- Woodland, Bayland, Northill and, of course, your house at the corner of 6 1/2 Street and Oxford.  At the place where  got lost, I couldn't seem to find those streets, so I put the map away."

[Rick's Note: Missing in Mr. Peabody's travelogue was an explanation why he gave up on the map so quickly. All Mr. Peabody had to do was keep track of the four important streets on my map that were highlighted.  If the map was difficult to read in the dark, Mr. Peabody could have used his cell phone for illumination. Did he bother doing that? Methinks not.]

The Odyssey of Mr. Peabody continues:

"Worse still, many of the intersections have no street signs. I never found 7 1/2 street, and I never walked far enough to find Oxford. In addition, I would have never guessed that your 6 1/2 street is secretly renamed "Ridge Street" on the other side of Studemont.

[Rick's Note:  Here is where a reference to the Infamous Map as well as this new map helps.

For reasons that date back to the 19th century, the names of the streets in Woodland Heights and many of the streets west of Studemont bear no relationship to each other.  To keep the route to and from my house as simple as possible, I did not include extraneous side streets on my Infamous Map.  This was Mr. Peabody's downfall.

In Mr. Peabody's defense, it is true my house is on 6 1/2 Street while the same street is renamed 'Ridge' in the Woodland Heights area where he was lost.  To avoid confusion, I had simplified my Infamous Map to make sure our route didn't go anywhere near Ridge Street.  

So much for good intentions.  Somehow Mr. Peabody managed to drift off the Infamous Map into no man's land.  As a result, Mr. Peabody crossed a dozen streets that were not listed on my map and panicked.]
 

The Odyssey of Mr. Peabody continues:

"As is the usual case in most horror flicks, cell phone service was mostly not available in the area. I assumed I was in a civilized area, but now I am not so sure.  There were some weird people that night.  At least I encountered no ax murderers... and I learned about a lot of new streets -- Julian, Michaux, Byrne, Euclid, Ridge, and my favorite, Teetshorn -- is it pronounced, "Teets Horn or Teet Shorn? -- but I digress.

Anyway, I was starting to get irritated because none of these streets were on Rick's trusty map.  So as I was getting irritated, I was forced to admit the truth...  I was hopelessly lost.  So I did something no self respecting man should ever do.  Real Men are not supposed to ask for directions, but I went to a policeman for directions."

[Rick's Note: This is a very curious.  If I read his letter correctly, he was nearly a mile off the Infamous Map before he bothered to approach the policeman.  What a shame Mr. Peabody never explained why he vacated the Infamous Map route to begin with.]

The Odyssey of Mr. Peabody continues:

"There was at least one policeman guarding every barricade to prevent cars from entering the walking route. The young lady ahead of me was also hopelessly lost.  Guess what?  Her phone didn't work. Neither did mine.  My guess is so many people were using their phones that cell service was unreliable.  She was trying to get to somewhere with cell service so she could call an Uber.  The policeman told her to keep walking down Watson [further toward I-10, the Katy Freeway].  That way she would eventually get cell service.  This took an inordinate amount of time to convey, as the young lady was attractive, and the policeman had much to say to her."

[Rick's Note: While this was going on, Jana Banana asked me to go find her husband. I recalled seeing Mr. Peabody at the place where they played the Eagles song, so I went back there.  However, I saw no sign of Mr. Peabody, so I have to assume he was already off the grid.  Now I got lost from the group myself. I must have passed them on my way back. I asked them to wait for me at one of the music spots. Did they cooperate?  No.

Fortunately, unlike a certain other person, I had the sense to stay on the route.  I went several blocks beyond where I thought the group might be, then backtracked to find them.  This worked.  I found Marla and several others, but realized half the group was missing.  Apparently our group had splintered into two sections.  Next time I do this, I am going to get a pole with a neon 'SSQQ' at the top so people can keep track of the group leader in the dark.

At the far end of the route there was a convenience store.  A couple guys went to buy beer while some of the ladies used the restroom.  While we waited, the other group caught up with us. Jana Banana was very disappointed to find Mr. Peabody was still missing.  She was also upset there was no cell service.  Jan kept muttering, "I knew I should have brought that leash!"]

The Odyssey of Mr. Peabody continues:

"Finally, that young woman tired of flirting with the policeman, so I got to ask my question. "Officer, do you know how to get to 6 1/2 Street?"

His reply, "Never heard of it."

Since he was no help, I set out to follow the young lady so I could have cell service too.  Alas, I could see trailing her made her nervous. For all she knew, I could be another Al Franken, or Matt Lauer, or Bill Cosby, or maybe even Donald Trump!

To lessen her fears of being groped, I sped up to get ahead of her.  By the time I reached the corner of Watson and Sledge Street, I could see the Katy Freeway a block away and downtown not much further.  To my surprise and enormous relief, the cop was right, I had service again.  So I called my lovely wife Jan.  Was she happy to hear from me?  Not exactly.  By now I was not in a good mood, so I had little patience with her scolding.  I assumed Jan and the group were already back at Rick's by now, so I wanted her to come pick me up.

I said, "JAN, GET IN THE CAR AND USE GPS TO GO TO WATSON AND SLEDGE."

Unfortunately, this obvious solution was unworkable because Jan not at your house, but rather miles away from our car at the convenience store.  I was embarrassed when I found out that everyone was still walking the route, partially because there was an effort currently afoot to find me.  Why, I don't know.  Should have just let me wander. Fortunately Jan gave me some good advice.  She told me to turn around and walk back up Watson Street until I reached Woodland.  Like the dutiful husband I am, I carefully retraced my steps."

[Rick's Note: Walking back up Watson was actually my suggestion.  Jana Banana was fit to be tied when her husband demanded she get in her car and come get him. At the time, we had spent so much time looking for Mr. Peabody that we were only halfway through our walk. However, Jan was all smiles when she saw Mr. Peabody waiting for her at Watson Street.  I think deep down Jan really likes Mr. Peabody.  She just wishes he was a little smarter sometimes, a sentiment I find amusingly ironic considering the guy is a genius.]
 

The Odyssey of Mr. Peabody reaches its conclusion:

"Eventually I met up with the group at Watson and Woodland.  I was never so glad to see Jan, my lovely wife.  I was also happy to see the gang again as well.  There was Rick with his rugged mountain hat and his lovely wife, Marla.  Jim had his flashing light in his headgear (a welcome beacon) and his lovely wife Cindi.  There was Larry, with his, uh, unique green Grinch sweater (that I assumed his wife made him wear, but not so), and his lovely wife, Phyllis (these guys are just too nice for someone like me).  There was Kyle and lovely wife, Yvette (pronounced EEEEEvette), Tom and lovely wife Elaine (these guys are also way too nice), and the rest of the group.

I want to thank you, Rick, for not just abandoning me.  You are truly the good shepherd.  I think I would have found my way out in a couple of weeks, but I would have been really hungry.  Thanks, again, Rick and Marla, for putting up with me.

PS: What dinosaurs?"

Farewell, Mike

I find it incredible that a guy who can put a man on the moon can't read a map that was so simple a 10-year old could follow it.  I am also trying to figure out how a guy like Mr. Peabody who can barely tie his own shoelaces guy can beat me repeatedly at Pente without breaking a sweat. 

By the way, Marla says I am just as bad as Mr. Peabody when it comes to being bright and oblivious at the same time.  She says neither of us have a lick of common sense.   She's probably right.  Since we are two Peabodys in a pod, I think I understand Mike.  This explains why I have always felt a rapport with Mike.  Too bad we did not live closer because I think we could have been friends. 

And so we have reached the end of our story.  I realize losing a loved one is very painful.  On the other hand, in certain circumstances it can also be a relief, maybe even a blessing of sorts.  When it's time, it's time. 

Rest in peace, Mike.  You were quite a character.