Paul Heinz

Original Fiction, Music and Essays

Filtering by Tag: toilet paper

The Thrill of Fear

It’s why we tell ghost stories. It’s why we adorn our homes and yards with creepy decorations around Halloween. It’s why we continue to watch spine-tingling scenes in a movie even when we want to hide under a blanket. There’s something thrilling about being afraid. That is, when the stakes are low enough. These days, there are plenty of real things to be afraid of, and I fear that as a result kids today are being denied the thrill that comes from being modestly mischievous.

When I was a burgeoning teenager, there were two houses my friends and I toilet-papered with regularity, both occupied by a classmate named Suzanne. We had nothing against either Suzanne. We weren’t “into” either of them. But their yards had trees, lots and lots of big, glorious trees, practically begging to be layered in fluffy cotton sheets, and we willfully answered the call.

Our preparatory trips to Kmart attracted stares from patrons and cashiers, as my friends and I pooled enough of our money together to purchase 40 or 50 rolls of toilet paper. When I consider the cost of a pack Charmin today, I wonder if this would be a feasible pursuit in 2023, but in 1981, a bunch of 13-year-olds with meager means could buy a lot of toilet paper.

We’d hang out at our buddy John’s house until late at night, spinning records and playing ping-pong. No beers. No smoking. It was pretty innocent stuff. But around 2AM we’d head outside donning dark clothing and prowl across the wonderfully unfenced backyards of Brookfield, Wisconsin, stealthily making our way a half a mile or so to our target house, where we’d launch roll after roll of toilet paper high over tree limbs, draping the maples and oaks in curtains of white while we kept watch for lights flickering on in the occupant’s home. Hearts racing, adrenaline gushing through our veins, we gleefully finished our task and raced back to our home base, careful to remain hidden from the occasional car in the early morning hours.

There came a time when TPing wasn’t enough – we needed to raise the stakes, and raise the stakes we did by adding a pièce de résistance after completing our toilet-papering: a blast of firecrackers and a glaring flare, its red light eerily glowing off the sheets of white toilet paper, elevating what could have been classified as an act of vandalism into a work of art.

If the flash of light and the explosion of gunpowder wasn’t enough to accelerate our hearts and strides, the car that went after us shortly thereafter surely was. Someone was pissed, most likely Suzanne’s father, and – especially in hindsight – understandably so. We had just jolted him from his peaceful slumber in the most abrupt way, causing a panic that I can only imagine.

Oh, but the thrill we felt! It was exhilarating and positively life-affirming. The gleeful charge of dipping our boring suburban toes into danger was unparalleled by anything else happening in our town.

I’ve raised three kids, all of whom are now adults, and I guarantee that none of them were allowed to experience the same sort of adventure that my friends and I had as youths. With yards surrounded by high privacy fences, with motion-detecting lights, video doorbells and security cameras recording our every move, and with the very real possibility that a homeowner could seek vengeance not with a call to the cops but with gunfire, I fear the days of innocent thrilling fun are over.

A shame for our youth, though I suppose not for we adults who are spared the heart-stopping panic of a brick of firecrackers exploding outside our windows. In that sense, we’ve had the best of both worlds.

Of Pandemics, Performing and Toilet Paper

Nobody told me there'd be days like these
Strange days indeed
most peculiar, Mama
-        John Lennon, from “Nobody Told Me.”

The lyrics of this Lennon tune keep running through my head.  It seems almost quaint that a mere three weeks ago I was writing about the upcoming baseball season and how my Brewers were in jeopardy of laying a big old egg.  I would take the egg at this point, as even bad baseball is preferable to no baseball, and with the MLB pulling the plug on the start of the season – wisely so – humanity is left to squander away its evening hours without the benefit of America’s Pastime. 

So what to do?  Be productive, I guess, or at least spend time with things that make you feel good.  So far I’ve managed to stay sufficiently busy during the social distancing phase of the Global Pandemic, but I recognize many factors are in my favor.  There are many people who are suffering either from illness, anxiety, loneliness, or sundry other ailments that afflict mankind without the added misery of a pandemic.  It’s important to keep that in mind and spend a moment each day giving thanks.  I am thankful for the following:

1)    I live in a safe neighborhood that allows me to go outside regularly.
2)    I have enough money to buy food, pay for utilities, keep up to date on my mortgage, etc.
3)    Neither I nor anyone in my family is sick.
4)    I live with two other people and have an additional two visitors, so I have plenty of social interaction.
5)    My neighbors are out and about and I’m able to enjoy conversations with people outside my family.
6)    My wife still has her job.
7)    My religious institution is doing a wonderful job of having a virtual gathering each day to learn or converse.

Add to these blessings that we all live in the age when connectivity allows for so many time-sucking pursuits – some of them even moderately noble – that many of us have no excuse not to use our time wisely. A pandemic thirty years ago would have been much more challenging with fewer opportunity to kill time, though I’ve somehow managed to accomplish a number of goals in an old-fashioned manner.  I’ve almost completed gutting my basement, I built a wooden record rack with one or two more planned, I finished recording demos for my next album, and I performed for my neighborhood block with an impromptu duo, to wit, The Highland Avenue Coronavirus Band.

Unfortunately, haters love to hate, and a very sanctimonious and unobservant woman took it upon herself to record a video (while driving her car!) and share it on our neighborhood Facebook page in an attempt to publicly shame us for failing to pay heed to the seriousness of society’s current predicament. I think it’s important to note that social distancing does NOT mean no socializing.  It means socializing at a distance.  When my neighbor Dean and I performed for an hour yesterday in front of maybe three dozen people, families sat in clusters because they’re…um…families, but then sat at least six feet apart from each other, as per Governor Pritzker’s orders for our fine state of Illinois.  The poster of the condemning video apparently doesn’t understand this. Fortunately she received a number of negative comments online and promptly removed the video. Chalk one up for humanity.  And good neighbors.  And music.

Even the toilet paper shortage – a shortage of our own making, mind you – hasn’t gotten me down.  I arrived at a Target store last week right at the opening bell but still too late to grab a package of Charmin, and as I walked out empty-handed, a woman hoisting two large toilet paper packages – one in each hand – offered to share some of her lot with me.  Really, it was the least she could do, as she shouldn’t have grabbed two packages to begin with, but so often humanity fails to do the least it can do, and in this instance she met my low expectations. I told her no thank you and felt a warm fuzzy feeling that maybe, just maybe, we’re all in this crazy pandemic together. 

All this is to say that I hope you’re all doing okay.  If you’re able to volunteer at a food pantry or call on an elderly neighbor, please do so (if you’re healthy).  Keep in touch with friends and neighbors – at a distance – and take some time to do a crossword puzzle, read a book, play with your kids or cook a nice meal.  Hang in there, and pray that come June or July we can once again spend our evenings enjoying nine innings of baseball.

Speaking of which, I may need to amend my predictions for this year’s Milwaukee Brewers.  I’m on it.  Now if only the Milwaukee Bucks would do right and return the money I spent for three tickets to this Friday’s game!

Copyright, 2024, Paul Heinz, All Right Reserved