Quinn's Kanamit [This post just requires tags.]

[Seeing as I went over my limit of forty eight posts for the year, I therefore decided to add this extra post to round 2025’s entries to an even fifty.]

    Recently a Facebook post highlighting actor Richard Kiel's early film work in the sci-fi genre, prompted me to recount my real-world "run-in" with him (unbeknownst to me) later in life. 

    I wrote: 

"Richard Kiel once sat, back to back, directly behind me to enjoy a birthday lunch with family. When he left the restaurant, I was the only one who did not know he had been there, all 7’2’’ of him!

I was also the only one who knew his name, with everyone else present clamoring 'Jaws' after the fact.

Nothing escapes me! Kanamits, Solarites notwithstanding!"

Richard Kiel as a Kanamit in The Twilight Zone episode 'To Serve Man' (1962)

         For true, for true, it actually happened one September 13th, Saturday early afternoon at Quinns Lighthouse Restaurant & Pub in Oakland, California!* I was residing in Oakland at the time and had walked to the establishment to join my twin sister, Georgene, her then boyfriend John, to celebrate the birthday of Harro Kleem, the husband in 2003, of my eldest sister Yvette.

    The five of us were seated together in the middle of the room, two tables having been joined together for us. Steve and Angie Staley, our middle sister were away at the time and could not join us, and so it was just we five.

     Some ten or fifteen minutes I heard the chairs of the table directly behind my back being scooted out for other dinner guests. They took their seats, with me thinking nothing of it as I chatted away. We then ate our meals then celebrated my sister’s then husband’s sixty fifth birthday with toasts and cake. The party at the table behind me ate and conversed quietly.

     Every one around me seemed lively, no doubt enjoying the occasion, but because we had so much yet to celebrate, the guests directly at my back finished first. Once again, I heard the understandable scooting of chairs, the shuffle of feet, and the rustle of clothing. The waiter, our waiter rushed over to see them out of the restaurant. 

     Then they were gone, as expected of course, and my conversation, having no reason so to do, barely slowed. That is until the waiter breathlessly returned.

    “Do you know who that was?!”

Quinns Lighthouse Restaurant & Pub, Oakland, California Photo credit: Teena Tran

     “Jaws! Jaws!” buzzed virtually everyone around me! “James Bond, Jaws!!” “I recognized him right away!” clamored Harro, who sat on the same side of the table as I facing away from the diners in question. “His hands were so huge!’ observed Yvette.**

     “Richard Kiel? Here?!” I was the only one in the restaurant knowing the actor by name.

      “You didn’t noticed??!!” amazed the others. 

    I could have kicked myself! A ate with a nine foot Kanamit straight behind me! Eegah, all seven foot two inches of him, dined adjacent to me! A Solarite, a human duplicator, Voltaire… I could name right then a list of his characters in addition to Jaws… And I had totally and utterly missed him!!

   “He came to celebrate his birthday with his -  !” the waiter voice dropped. (I got the distinct impression, the concluding word was “parents” not “family”, “relations”, nor “relatives”. The people with Kiel were related to him. And I recalled the murmur of their hushed voices sounding mature - elderly. Kiel for his part, chose to speak not a peep at all, else I would have recognized the manner, timbre, and inflection of his unmistakable voice.]

    Yet, as far as my having spotted him. My back was to the entrance, and turned away, so there was no need for me to look at anyone arriving after us. Even taking the seats at the table would not have been sufficient cause to pique my interest. What reason would I otherwise have to stare at complete strangers or turn my self or my chair rudely around just to gawk at nothing?

    Kiel for certain, isn’t nothing. Far from it, in physical stature alone, he’s more something than most, but again, I had no reason, whatsoever to suspect a single thing. Moreover, no one, I mean absolutely nobody, gave me any indication something special was afoot - not the slightest heads-up or clue. Everyone at my table instead played it cool. The waiter made nary a mention, charged with safeguarding, at the risk of his job, the actor’s “anonymity”, er, privacy. He only spilled the beans after Kiel’s departure. Everyone else did likewise.

    So would I, had I known of the celebrity’s immediate presence.

    I didn’t; so I was doubly dumb!

    Kiel and Harro share the same birthday?! Damn!***

    I totally overlooked the literally larger than life performer?! Damn and double-damn!! 

Richard Kiel, wife Diane, and Family (1982)

    Above is a picture of Richard Kiel that I like: a normal loving, family man against character type with respect to the movie roles he is often assigned.

*QUINN’S LIGHTHOUSE RESTAURANT & PUB

Saturday, September 13, 2003 or 2008 (I think it's the former date, however).

**Yvette saw Kiel enter (she sat facing the entrance) but didn’t immediately realize it was him, she later admitted. Whether due to physical issues and advancing age, or wish to appear smaller, he kept a “very low profile” she stated. I have never asked her to clarify what she exactly meant by that euphemism, suffice to say it made me wonder if Kiel was hunched down at the time.

***Kiel was born in 1939, a year after my former brother-in-law.

 

Thirty [This post just requires tags.]

 

  I realize this entry makes it the forty ninth post of the year (the target was forty eight) but I really felt need to acknowledge the thirtieth anniversary of my mom’s passing which will occur today a little under an hour now as I write these words. The post will be published at the moment the anniversary is reached.

(The 1992 image above is the last snapshot taken of mom. She had just undergone a delicate craniotomy to have a small tumor from the brain removed, and was recuperating at the residence of my sister Yvette for about a week.)

'The Thing vs Bumble: A Christmas Mashup' [This post just requires tags.]

This being the holidays, I was working on a color cut 'n' paste of Bumble, the abominable snow monster of the North (see below) and creating a simple snowy landscape for him, when out of left field, inspiration struck! I suddenly recalled a memorable scene from another production likewise set in the high arctic, and - humorously marrying the two - presto!

Bumble, the Abominable Snow Monster of the North, from the holiday television classic: 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer' (1964)

Howard Hawks' 'The Thing from Another World' (1951)

Meanwhile, on the homefront, my sister Yvette gave me a fabulous Christmas gift, that she just couldn't resist.

'We come in peace, and with good will!"

Gort (Lock Martin) and Klaatu (Michael Rennie) figurines inspired by 'The Day the Earth Stood Still' (1951)

Pun [This post is under construction.]

 

     This is a follow-up to my October 2nd, 2025 post: 'My Steel Trap Mind!'; in particular, to the addendum, wherein I related the number of years it took myself and Trish to realize the deliberately placed pun in the The Beatles' name.

    Somehow, I momentarily forgot that I had made mention of the matter, and started to create a new post, falsely assuming the anecdote about The Fab Four, Trish, and I, had been overlooked.

    I'm glad to learn that such was not the case, but in doing a little background research on the logo I had intended to use to head this post making up for that presumed lapse, I nevertheless learned a few bits of nifty trivia along the way. 

    So I am going to continue with the post and use the follow-up instead to share those Beatlemaniacal tidbits I discovered!

 

 

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First Incarnation: Ivor Arbiter’s April 1963 design, hand painted by Eddie Stokes.

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Paul McCartney’s 1962 design.

 

 

 

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Raw source information (quickly jotted down):

 

April 1963 Drum City London Owned by Ivor David Arbiter, who quickly designed the logo, was an English drum designer, manufacturer, instrument salesman, and entrepreneur, who in his early career, was the owner and operator of Drum City, a specialty drum shop in the West End of London. He sketched a logo mock-up on the back of a cigarette package and paid a local sign-maker, Eddie Stokes, five pounds to paint the logo on the drum head.

Brian Epstein and Ringo Starr


Eddy Stokes painted it

Total cost for the logo: £5

May 12, 1963 Ringo takes possession of the drum just in time for the band's headline appearance on 'Thank Your Lucky Stars' hosted by Brian Matthew
Drum used from then till February 4, 1964
February 9, 1964 Ed Sullivan appearance used a new Ludwig with a slightly modified font with the letters of the logo a little larger overall and thicker

In all there were four Ludwig drum kits with seven different hand painted skins used by the end of The Beatles career

Ludwig Oyster Black Drum Kit

Collector Russ W. Lease one time owner of the second drum skin (Paul McCartney is believed to still own the first skin)

The Beatles Drop T Logo Story 

 

 

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"'Tis the season to be... ...or then again, maybe not!" [This post is just requires tags.]

 "Merry Humbug, whatever..."

Angelica and Desiree at Twalla's

     When I took the photo above of Desiree Staley and my late sister Angelica Staley, at Twalla Staley's home some years ago (2012 -12-22), I instinctively knew I had seen the composition and Desiree's expression, in conjunction with the holiday season, somewhere before. Today I remembered where:  from Robert Franks' 'The Americans' specifically, the Christmas waitress pictured at the 'Ranch Market, Hollywood. (1955 - 1956)

'Ranch Market, Hollywood, 1955-1956' Robert Frank

I Broke [This post is under construction.]

 

 

The shattered display of my not as yet, day old, digital picture frame. Even in death, there is art.

 

 

 

In a rare fit of pique, 

While I am a person considered extremely patient by others, I do have my cracks, and my ire, when it does spill over, usually expresses itself in one of two ways: towards the inanimate or against myself. In fact my last big rage caused me the partial loss of my vision, when I struck my face so hard, it started a hemorrhage. That was twenty or more years ago.

Thinking an email response would be days or weeks in coming, a knot of nervousness started to form in the pit of my being. It grew into a desperation. I knowingly did the worst thing I could, and attempted a blind, do-it-yourself file repair. I didn’t even bother to “consult” with A.I. first. My frenzy emotional panic couldn’t even wait the thirty or so minutes I would have to spend simply getting the A.I. to properly understand my initial prompts.

Of course, things went spectacularly wrong. As expected by anybody with half a brain cell, I altered the Digital Photo Frame’s tmp file and the picture screen instantly went black - forever! There was no undoing my mistake. I knew it. In an instant, all the time having known better, I voided all future repair or returns. I could not go back and this I did to my better self and judgement. I unplugged the permanently broken device, now nothing but useless plastic, and took it into the garage, on my way to the garage can.

After nearly five days, of one hardware or software failure (six so far and counting) and the inordinate amount of time spent to correct each issue - sometimes not - this the last straw that broke the camel’s back.   

Rage came to the fore. 

The dam broke and I flung the device against the concrete with all my fury, smashing the digital picture frame to smithereens! 

Surely, as stupid as I felt myself and my actions, this amount of sudden violence seemed unwarranted, not for this tiny product, or even the other technical delays combined. I’m no saint, for sure, and I do get angry, but that last time, I hurled an object to the floor and its destruction was in 2005. It was a glass.

I felt helpless, I feel helpless, I cannot control matters, I cannot correct error, I cannot combat evil, I cannot change what is, nor, most importantly of all, add more time. Yes, I’m talking about life and the world at large creeping into me.

Evil is winning over which I have little or no control, it’s gaining every day, and becoming worse before my very eyes, willfully abetted by unscrupulous sycophants. And my life is finite. I will live to see any change for the better in my limited lifetime. How joyless that feels.

So I threw a tantrum, to literally rage against the machine, and my mortality. The gears grind on, the years without me. Even my utter defeat with Ruth mocks me with whom have no voice - never did. The irretrievable losses (like that of my childhood artwork and such for example). Family deaths. Entropy's relentless march towards increasing degradation, both on a personal and universal scale. Heat death.

I wanted to stop it: the years, the failures, the evil, the long silence and responsiveness. I wanted to smash it all, and the unrelenting mechanism. I wanted to matter to time. To proclaim my place and importance… my defiance to being overruled and ignored.

I smashed the inanimate instead. Poor machine, it had no brook with me. Yet, because it was without thought, it graciously granted me the wherewithal to act without thought. Then again, all is without thought, as far as the universe is concerned. Sure, it’s grinding me to pulp, but it isn’t personal.

 I’m sorry little product that I took it out on you.  Sometimes, though…   the futility

Yet, the evil that people do, that those, conscious of others, and sentient knowingly perpetrate, though that’s a different matter. My incoherent act was addressing that.

Everything was at play and went!

”Like a red-hot umbrella…”

“I wanna bust!”

"Bust cool!" 

”Pow!”

advancing decrepitude 

Shortcomings 

lack of control 

out of my hand both figuratively and literally 

I just wanted to strike out at the world or something.

Admittedly, I do feel a tad better, having popped, having uncorked, Like a pressure valve releasing a little steam In the larger scheme of things, it's more than likely.ultimately futile. A pointless gesture. But the moment has passed and the tension has dissipated if only by a smidge.

Now to shape all these loose jottings and stream-of-consciousness into something structured, conscientious, and sensible.