To Erik from Eric

Dear Erik,

I'm not sure if you remember me, but I last saw you at Princess Angela's wedding. I'm good friends with her and your mom and dad. Your dad and I get along especially well because we know all kinds of geeky trivia, like who Daws Butler and Paul Frees are. Great times.

I always felt a special kinship with you, for a number of reasons. You and I both have October birthdays. In fact, I was with Angela in Florida the day you were born, October 5, 2008, and I remember congratulating your dad on the phone.  

Princess Angela and Erik

The biggest kinship of all, though, is that we almost have the same name. I'm Eric too, only I spell mine with a C for cinema and you spell yours with a K - as in that kooky imagination you have. I didn't get to see you often, but I always had so much fun when I did. It was a kick (there's another K) just to listen to you come up with stuff like "roller-skating gophers." Lewis Carroll and his hookah-smoking caterpillar would have raised their eyebrows at your creations.

I most remember my two trips to visit you last year. When I arrived in February, we went to Animal Kingdom, and we were eating at Flame Tree Barbeque, a little ways from the Expedition: Everest roller coaster. Whenever we heard the train pass by and the people squeal, you piped up with "Volcano!" Never mind that the mountain had snow at the top instead of fire - every few minutes we heard WOOSH (Squeeee) "Volcano!" Come to think of it, that ride might be more fun that way, since the Yeti never works anyhow.

But even that pales in comparison  to your performances the week of Angela's wedding. I actually got to watch you a couple of times by myself. It was for only a few minutes each time, but boy, were you a challenge to keep up with. I remember you running around Legoland at Downtown Disney with me trailing after you and thinking "Oh, please don't run somewhere I can't see you!"

Sometime later your dad and I went to Islands of Adventure, where the wildest story of all happened. I was getting on the Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey ride while you guys waited for me. I had a little trouble getting on, and the Uni team member there said "Your dad will meet you at the end."

*CHOKE* My dad? You mean Tim, the guy who is only a year and change older than me? I may look young, but I'm not that young! I guess you can't see all these white hairs on my head in the dark.

But you unwittingly gave that a positive spin because that made you, for a short time, my "brother." While your dad was on the Spider-Man ride, I remember taking you by the hand and leading you to the store where they sell all sorts of wall-crawler things. How did I keep you from running off? By taking you to the toys that flashed and made lots of noise!  It was great to get a chance to play "big brother" again after my much younger siblings had grown up.

You were always a rambunctious guy, and I remember Princess Angela wondering how you would fare at the wedding. So what do you do but steal the show by ... completely passing out. I'll never forget that "aaaw" from the audience.

But I have one other wedding memory with you and Angela. The day before, at the rehearsal dinner, they showed a video that had Angela in it, and you exclaimed, "That's Angela! She's over there! This is a good movie!"

Now that's my kinda kid - a budding little critic.  And I couldn't have agreed more.

I wish I could have taken you to a movie sometime and gotten to know you better, but I'll always be grateful for the time I had with you. Thanks for everything, Erik, and I'll see you again someday. Until then, Godspeed, little friend.

Oh,  I'm told you know a  place called "pancake city." Do me a favor? Save me a plate for when I get there. I like mine with cinnamon. 



Eric - with a C.

Erik William McKenny ~ October 5, 2008 - September 5, 2012

Ten years later - finally part of the 9/11 story

By the time I woke up in the late morning of September 11, 2001, both Twin Towers had collapsed, the Pentagon was in flames, scorched earth scarred a field in Pennsylvania - and I, a journalist, had missed it all.

Now, in the early morning of May 2, 2011, I reflect upon the news of Osama bin Laden's death - and in so doing, received a sort of closure I have been seeking for nearly a decade. 

I did not lose a loved one in the 9/11 attacks, but a part of me always felt hollowed out when thinking about that day. At that time, I was working as the night editor for the Middletown Journal. The night before, on Sept. 10, had been rather hectic - so much so, that I decided to sleep in and not set my alarm in the morning. 

I woke up to great alarm anyway. 

I came in to work that day expecting to be wildly busy, but I really wasn't, So many of the editors rightly stayed on thoughout the evening that I felt like a fifth wheel, and I didn't get to contribute much to the coverage.  That has always bothered me.

Now, 10 years later, the world is a very different place. In 2001, the Internet had been prominent for a few years but was still not nearly as dominant as it is today. Facebook and Twitter didn't even exist back then. I'm not even sure MySpace was all that prevalant at that point. 

In 2001, I found out about 9/11 through a phone message from my dad, and a news report I read on Yahoo. And even then I still thought it was an elaborate hoax, until I turned on the TV and saw the towers crash down. 

In 2011, shortly before 10:30 p.m.,  I was checking in to Facebook as usual and read that President Obama was about to make some kind of announcement relating to national security. That didn't sound good to me. A cloud formed over my head. 

Then, I switched on the TV to NBC news, which shortly confirmed that bin Laden was dead. And yes, rays of light did peek through the cloud. I was relieved the news was not dire. But I was not jubilant either. I cast a wary eye on footage of people celebrating outside the White House. 

I posted this status on Facebook. "It is good indeed that Osama bin Laden is dead, but I hesitate to think this is the end of anything other than his life. We must not let our guard down." 

I wasn't trying to be eloquent - I was just saying what was on my mind the most direct way I could. So I was surprised, and rather flattered that two friends of mine quoted me and tagged me on Facebook so other friends could read it.

Ironically enough, I may not be working at my newspaper job at all today. I have to work this coming Saturday, so I was taking Monday off. I have told my boss I would be ready to come in if needed. But even if I don't, I feel I have finally become part of the 9/11 story in a way I never had before.

But in a very crucial way, I still do not feel settled. None of us should. Yes, there is cause for celebration. It is good that one of the most evil men the world has ever seen is gone. It is good that those who lost loved ones may feel some sense of closure. But our pride must be tempered by vigilance. We could make no worse mistake now then to become complacent amid our gratitude. 

In many ways, a decade ago, we were asleep at the switch. And we can ill afford to avert our eyes again. I  may not sleep much after I write this - and that is good. The more restless we all are, the better. 

Freudian roller coaster

Kings Island opened this past weekend, but you won't find me there - and I'm not quite sure why.

I haven't been to Kings Island as a paying guest in more than 20 years. And I know why I shy away from the place. I'm no fun there. I can't hack roller coasters with big drops - and Kings Island's got a bunch of em. Even a ride as relatively tame as The Racer makes something in my brain say NO.

And that's the part I can't really figure out. I like the idea of roller coasters, and the physics of how they work. I'm not afraid of heights. I can go up in a hot air balloon or an airplane without breaking a sweat. I'm not afraid of drops. The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror at Disney's Hollywood Studios is one of my favorite rides, and that thing drops you several times on each trip.



It's not even roller coasters per se that bother me. I can ride the ones at the Disney parks. Space Mountain and Big Thunder Mountain are both loads of fun. Expedition Everest at Animal Kingdom and the Rock n' Roller Coasters at the Studios are a bit more intense, but I've been on both multiple times. I will never forget my debut whirl on the RNRC. I knew that the ride launched you from 0 to 60 at the very beginning, and I had planned to scream like the start of  the Beatles' "Revolution" to power me through it.




When I hit that first loop, however, all I could get out was "                  ." Not any kind of sound, just a stunned expression and a complete inability to vocalize, hence "                  ."

When it comes to roller coasters with big drops, though, it's a completely different story. When those g-forces on the big drops hit my stomach, my stomach always responds, "I would rather be anywhere in the world but here."

No, to find out why I can't take roller coasters, I think we have to resort to that old standby, childhood trauma.

The first big roller coaster I ever rode was an old wooden number called The Screechin' Eagle" at Americana Amusement Park AKA LeSourdsville Lake in Monroe, not far from where I work.



As you can see,  this roller coaster is not particularly tall. However, it has been particularly famous among coaster enthusiasts for its "air time"  - that moment when your butt lifts off the seat as you crest over the hill. Thing was, at the Screechin' Eagle it's not just your butt that lifts off the seat. It's the entire front half of your body. And when you're only 7 or 8 years old, and you're constantly afraid you're going to go flying OUT of the ride, well --- that tends to stay with you. So from that day on, roller coaster with big drops = last will and testament.

And I, being of sound mind and body, do not want to die, and don't want to be reminded that I feel like I'm going to die. So you could put Amy Adams in a bikini at the end of the ride, and that wouldn't sway me.

That said, she's welcome to try.

Florida 2011 recap Day 2 - Flowers and Oscars

On the second day of my Florida trip, it was time to get up and head to the parks. Or just one park in today's case: Epcot.

A lot of pop culture entities like to make fun of the place as being the "boring" educational park. They can go dive off Spaceship Earth (the big golf ball). Epcot is by far my favorite of the parks, and it's the best place to go and just hang. You can go to Epcot and not go on a single ride or see a single show, and you'll still get your money's worth. It's a beautiful place to get shots like this:

Found these guys wandering around the flower garden near the American pavilion at the World Showcase - pretty fearless guys. This wasn't done with a zoom lens at all - got right up close to em. (All the pictures were taken with my cell phone, camera, BTW. I used that because I wanted to see how good I could be with it, and I admit, because I get a kick out of being able to instantly upload photos with my phone. Or I could just be lazy.

At any rate, Angie, Derek and I stopped by Tutto Italia for lunch. It is a personal rule of mine that on every Disney World trip, I must dine at at least one of the full-service restaurants in World Showcase. I've had some of my very best culinary experiences there. Italian is my favorite ethnic food, and I'd never been to Epcot's Italian restaurants before, so I decided to give one of them a whirl.

I'd heard the restaurant described as "Fazoli's-level food at Carrabas-level prices." And while it's not quite THAT dramatic, I have to say it's one of the few Disney dining experiences that didn't truly impress me.

This was my main course, Casareci - cavatelli pasta, sweet sausage ragu, tomatoes, Pecorino Romano. It was good, but it lacked the WOW factor - not enough spice for my taste.

The dessert, however, was QUITE good. This is Gianduja - Chocolate Torta - chocolate and hazelnut torte with whipped cream and raspberry sauce. De-LECT-able. I'd be tempted to return to this place if only for the desserts. 

After lunch we strolled around the World Showcase. The following weekend was the start of the annual Flower and Garden Festival, but some topiaries were already up, like this lovely one of Belle and Beast, just outside of France, of course.

My personal favorite was this group just outside the UK Pavillion - here's Captain Hook closing in on Peter Pan.

But that doesn't tell the whole story ... pan to the right ... 

... and you'll see Captain Hook's Time is about up!

Strolling into the UK area, I simply had to go into a certain shop. You people can have your sun, surf and sand and all that crap - here's MY idea of paradise!

Paradise does have its pitfalls however. While I was ogling all that stuff, Angie got pulled into one of the street skits and I missed the whole blasted thing. I always knew one day my Beatlemania would cost me. 

Since that evening was Oscar night, I had to plop down in front of a chair to watch the big show, (which I thought wasn't as bad as everyone said it was). However, I plopped down in a chair that belonged to this lil' fella. 

This is Tobey, a beagle mix that belong's to Angie's roommate, Heather. As it turned out, I was sitting in the chair where Tobey regularly sleeps. But he didn't seem to mind. He's a sweet boy. He took to me right away. Toeby just relaxed or dozed on top of me, changing positions throughout the evening. 

Until he finally ended up like this, snoring in my lap. 

And that was pretty much the end of the day for both Tobey and me. Coming up next - adventures in Downtown Disney, and the Magic Kingdom!

Florida 2011 recap Day 1

Hellloooooo out there ...

It's been awhile since I've written in this blog spot, mainly because most of my writing has been directed at my newspaper work and at Sir Critic. Well, this blog originally started when I went on a trip to New Orleans, and I just came back from a trip to Florida. So it's time to dust Robinette Reflects off, look through the glass and recap my vacation.

I almost didn't go on this trip at all, deciding to travel only at the 11th hour. Was probably more like the 10th, really. But in the end, the trip turned out to be a much-needed tonic, and I'm very glad I decided to go.

After a somewhat hairy start with canceled flights, I arrived in Orlando only about an hour later than planned. After picking up my rental car, I headed out to meet with my longtime friend Angie and her boyfriend Derek at his place. By this time it was late enough to eat dinner, and I hadn't had anything to eat since early that morning.

When I go out on trips, I'm very keen to go to places that aren't in Ohio, and our dinner fell along those lines. We went to an area pizza chain called Mellow Mushroom, but don't let the name fool you. The place is kind of mellow, but it offers much more than mushrooms, which is a good thing, since I've never understood the appeal of that particular fungus.

Evoking 60s-era sights and sounds (one can practically hear Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit" when you enter the place), Mellow Mushroom actually offers a pizza called Magical Mystery Tour, but I was not dying for that pizza to take me away, since it had Portobello mushrooms - the aforementioned deal-breaker. So instead, I opted for the Red Skin Potato Pie, which features not only red potato, but sour cream and ranch dressing, with an olive oil and garlic base. Quite delectable. It was a bit like eating an open-faced baked potato sandwich. I'm only sorry they didn't offer an I Am the Walrus pizza.

Satisfied but not quite stuffed, we next opted for dessert at a place called Sweet!, which most definitely lived up to its name in every sense of the word. The bakery has been featured on The Food Network's Cupcake Wars, and it wasn't hard to taste why. One swallow of these suckers, and you'll find it hard to settle for cupcakes from your local grocer ever again. Wanting to try a variety, I got four mini-cupcakes, including Black and White (chocolate cake, white chips, swirled frosting) Red Velvet, Peanut Butter and my favorite, Black and Gold (yellow cake, dark chocolate frosting, caramel filling). Nice way to cup ... er, cap the night.

Coming up on Day 2 - a swing through the park known as EPCOT - Every Podiatrist Comes Out Taxed.

A new blogging project: With a Little Luck

When I tell people that Beatles music plays everywhere I go, I usually get one of two reactions:

1. You must be payin' em.
2. Well, of course it does. You're YOU!

The first statement is not true. If I could spare that much cash, I'd buy Abbey Road Studios. There IS something to be said for the second.

It seems that almost every time I eat in a restaurant, or shop in a store, a Beatles song starts coming through those tinny little speakers. I'm starting to feel like I'm the Pied Piper. Or maybe the Fab Flautist.

It's happened so often lately, that I've decided to start a new project and have a little fun with this. Every time I hear a Bealtes-related song on a PA (group or solo) I will blog about that song.

So today, January 15, 2011 I walk into the Hasty Tasty Pancake House on Linden Avenue. First time I'd ever eaten there, actually. Sure enough, once I'm there the speakers start playing "With a Little Luck" by Paul McCartney.

The first single from the 1978 album London Town, it's one of the few Number One hits, if not the only one, to be recorded on a boat: A yacht named the Fair Carol. Alas, when this song comes on the radio or is played over a PA, it's the shorter version without the cool keyboard break. 

I prefer the longer version, so I can play air keys with it:

And here's a little more "Luck" - an early demo of the song, which I'd never heard before today!

Course, now that I've started this, the Beatles songs will start drying up when I go out - not that it will discourage me. Can't you feel the town exploding?

I read the news 30 years ago today, oh boy ...

Thirty years ago,  on Dec. 9, 1980, I became the man I am today. 

Maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but not by much. And those of you who know me well know exactly what I'm talking about.

Some of you might be thinking, "Wait - John Lennon died on December 8, not December  9." Very true. But being 10 years old at the time, I was in bed when the news first broke.  I did not find out about it until the morning of the 9th. I remember my granddad called from downstairs and woke me up saying "John Lennon was shot, Eric."

I thought I heard him wrong, or thought maybe he was kidding. When I saw the headline screaming at me from the Journal Herald, I knew he wasn't.

Some of you may be surprised to learn that my reaction wasn't grief or anguish. It was actually more shock and fascination, truth be told. You see, up to that point, I was more of Beach Boys fan than a Beatles fan. I liked the Beatles quite a lot because I heard a lot of their music, group and solo,  growing up. I still remember going to Wright State in 1975 when my dad was a student, and he put a sticker from Paul McCartney's Venus and Mars album on his locker. (When I returned to Wright State as a student in 1989, the sticker was still there.)

But for whatever reason, I gravitated more toward the Beach Boys at first. Still love them today. And I always found it amusing that my favorite groups growing up were both Capitol Records artists filed under "Bea." I had an awful lot of 45s with that orange and yellow "swirl" label.

On December 9, 1980, everything changed. From that day on, I began soaking up everything Beatles I could. I read every article, devoured every book, listened to every record that I could. Helping me along was the fact that in 1980, my dad bought new copies of Beatles records and gave me all his old ones. I was hooked.

 I especially admired how whenever someone told them "You can't do that," they would always say "Why not?" And they made it cool to find a new way to write, record or perform. When John Lennon had the other Beatles and George Martin go through not one, not two, but three completely different recordings of "Strawberry Fields Forever," they still made it work brilliantly. 

The new iTunes ads boil it down very nicely with one simple line: "The band that changed everything." 

I'm not sure if it's right to say the Beatles changed me, but they came to define me. I was and am SO into the group that my name became synonymous with the Fab Four. It was my claim to fame in school from fourth grade onward. 

Although I never devised any grand plan, I think my Beatlemania served sort of a purpose. On some subconscious level, I thought, "I'll use this to make my name." I didn't want to be known as "the kid with cerebral palsy." I became known as "the kid who likes the Beatles." 

That wasn't always so easy growing up. It wasn't "cool" to be a teenager who liked the Beatles in the age of hair metal and "Rock Me Amadeus." I remember showing off a batch of Beatle albums to kids in the neighborhood, and one girl scoffed "I thought Duran Duran was out."  When "Twist and Shout" became a top 40 hit in the 80s, on the strength of its appearance in Ferris Bueller's Day Off (thank you, John Hughes). I felt a sense of sweet vindication. For once in my life, everyone knew what I was talking about.

As the 80s became the 90s, my love for the Beatles never changed, but my identity did. It was in that period that my love for movies really ramped up. When I began writing reviews and created the "Sir Critic" moniker, film began to subsume me. Oh sure, people still knew I was a Beatle guy, but I think it's fair to say that I became better known as a movie guy than a Beatle guy, especially after Sir Critic made his way to Cox newspapers. 

So it's been funny that in the past few years, my Beatledom has roared back with a vengeance. A lot of that has to do with hooking up with people from my past via Facebook. One of the very first questions one of my classmates asked me was "Do you still know every word to every Beatles song ever written?" Like she had to ask! ;)

That resurgence manifested itself most touchingly after I went to a concert with a Beatles tribute band. It was a benefit for one of my classmates, Micah Grushon, who was battling cancer. When I went to say hello to him after the show, he told me: "I'm not surprised to see you here. I remember you giving a report on the Beatles in junior high and we were all like 'What? The Beatles??' - while we were listening to Men at Work." 

I laughed because, as it happened, Men at Work was one of the few 80s groups I really liked. But then, Micah really hit home when he told me, "It wasn't until we got to college years later that we realized, 'Eric was right.' "

Sadly, Micah passed away not long after that. But I'll never forget what he said to me. It was great to know that my Beatlemania, once scoffed at, became something positive - something that made life a little brighter. I'm reminded of John's lyric "Nowhere man, please listen, you don't know what you're missing, Nowhere man, the world is at your command." 

For the record, that's album six, track four, words 38 through 55.

(A shot of me with my John Lennon shirt - doubles as a Christmas picture!)