Tag: nostalgia

‘Nostalgesic’ and Home Remedies

Hanging On
Here in the middle-west of the USA, winter has seemingly clung all too desperately, truncating the typical spring rhythms. I’ve been guilty of staying too late at a good party myself, not listening to the signs that tell me “you’re done here”.  I often find it interesting how the subconscious / universe / nature / mysterious higher powers so often whisper hints. So often those hints are helpful, if we can be bothered to listen.

Looking Back

I enjoy nostalgia as many of you tens of readers are well aware. I, almost daily, saunter down to the Indycar clubhouse pool, with my white 80s sunglasses, checkered Vans, neon-colored zinc-oxide on my nose, corduroy OP shorts, and faded Spuds MacKenzie beach towel for a dip into the numbers and names of Indycar lore to produce #DZsIndycarTrivia on Twitter. If you have no idea to what I’ve referenced, please spend some time on Google and follow me on Twitter after you finish reading this post. Produced in contrast to the hyper-current, immediacy-addicted world of ‘news first, ask questions later’, my ‘nostalgesic’ was produced to soothe the pains of Indycar’s cycle of ‘bad news’ which seemingly came on a daily basis during the latter half of 2012.

It’s a Trap!

Nostalgia, at it’s best, can use the past to help create a better future. This is the aim of my Trivial fun – to playfully remind or illuminate others to how things actually were before them and by having a clear understanding of the past, we are far less likely to repeat the mistakes. As much fun as I have doing #DZsIndycarTrivia on Twitter, I’ve also heard this little whisper lately to be careful of what’s upcoming… There is a ‘trap’, while only looking backwards out of the family sedan’s rear window – you will most-certainly miss the good bits right in front of you. The actual on-track Indycar product has been quite good out-of-the-box from St. Pete in 2012 to date (Barber 2013), and I’ve been careful to listen to that voice of reason. The perception of how that product is produced however is the problem.

Out the Front Window

Sooooooo… with Pole Day JUST A MONTH AWAY (yes, you read that correctly), I find myself still shaking off the winter doldrums and beginning to turn to that annual automotive congregational feast of racing nostalgia that is The Indy 500. Nothing for me is as therapeutic and this race and all its history and how almost every year adds something great to the lustrous patina of Indycar. How and why the bounty of that feast is so difficult to pass around and feed the rest of the Indycar calendar is subject of much ongoing debate. All I know is that if one is quiet enough to shut out the chatter of the day and simply enjoy the racing, you will more often than not have that satisfied feeling of fullness. I find it a bit like enjoying something like calimari – the more I can compartmentalize the intricacies of the substance and its preparation, the more I’m likely to simply bite into it and enjoy. Not always is that possible however and we should always be conscious of what we consume, so betwixt and betwain we humans often are.  

To Every Thing a Season
So time now for me to look forward, to enjoy it for what it is, and to not forget to savor those most tasty bits for they also are too few and far between. I wish you all good Indycar times with friends and family and if you’ll be at Indy or Pocono, I hope to see you at the track. If not, keep on hanging around the blogosphere or catch me on Twitter for #DZsIndycarTrivia. I’ll keep cooking up fresh questions for you.

Escapism

RUN AWAAYYYY!


As childish as it may sound, I’m opting for escapism as a method of coping with the ridiculousness that has already become the Indycar off-season… 

My form of escapism you ask? 

Statistics.  Historical statistics.

Hey, groan all you like but I’m finding more every day that the old axiom holds true – ‘the older I get, the less I know’. Rather than suffer through the off-season lamenting why I never studied a foreign language in my many years of book-learnin’, or feeling remorseful for not learning more from my mother about how to, from scratch, cook a great meal, I’m going to spend a considerable chunk of the Indycar doldrums with my nose in this:

“When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, 
take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look 
your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.” -William Butler Yates



Ah yes… the smell of soy-ink-printed semi-glossy paper. Black-on-white typography with no graphics or visual representations. Just numbers… sweet, sweet numbers… arranged tightly in columns and rows… will I dare to follow that footnote which teasingly runs onto another page of… *gasp* more numbers and perhaps a brief snippet?  OOOooohhh tingly bits, why must you betray me so? (I always have wondered about the juxtaposition of accountancy and erotica so thanks for indulging me briefly).

As much as I think I know about Indycar, there is always something to discover in a sport with over 100 years of history.  I’m going treasure hunting this off-season and I aim to bring you nuggets of interest/trivia so stay tuned. Also, if you desire a tangible countdown method for the upcoming Indycar season, buy one of these and make a habit of crossing off the days until St. Pete 2013…

Here’s a quick example:
Q: in 2013, Indycar will make its first return to Pocono Raceway since 1988 and attempt to smash the qualifying record speed of 205.724 set by whom in 1986?  


A: Michael Andretti




Bringing Back the Mystique (rambling alert)


I sense the mystique and allure of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway (and progeny racing form) is all but gone – victim of the erosion of time.

I associate the Speedway’s allure and mystique with its relative greatness; a greatness which, at its best provided generations with a powerful symbol of optimism and confidence, at its worst reminded us of our own mortality, but always seemed to give an accurate sense of place and time. I think it valuable to maintain this asset and believe it is possible to retrieve and reintroduce it to the many people who’ve yet to fully experience it which brings me to the genesis of this post – answering the question of ‘how to best communicate the experience of the Speedway’. In my thinking, the answer to the question could serve to be a catalyst for gaining followers and fans for the Speedway and thereby, the Indycar Series.

This whole thought process began while watching a video interview on YouTube of one of my favorite skiers, Glen Plake, talking about the original ski documentaries communicating the experience of skiing to those who’ve never been, revealing to me a similarity in how the visceral experience of the Speedway and Indycars can be. I’ve always had a difficult time putting in words what the experience is like other that to always end by saying, “you just have to be there in person”.  My thought became focused on how an extremely well-done documentary film on the Speedway and the early racing forms which inhabited it would serve well the current Speedway and also to a lesser degree, Indycar racing (anyone have Ken Burns’ phone number and how has he not already done one on the Speedway?).

The feeling I have can maybe (perhaps too dramatically) be best described as reminiscent of the Terrence Mann speech from Field of Dreams. A summary history of my experiences related to the Speedway (which exist in the origins of this blog), and of the vast Speedway lineage serve to support this feeling, but not explain it. I’ve enjoyed every single trip I’ve ever made to the Speedway and arriving at its open gates reminds me of those previous trips. Open gates… racing’s Valhalla is open to the public from 8-5 most every day of the year, so it seems nearly inexplicable that the place isn’t teeming with all sorts of racing pilgrims.

Giving the public who have never been, a genuine and visceral experience of being there could make them want to experience in person and possibly again and again.

Or perhaps, one can argue the relatively decreased mystique and allure of Indycars and the Speedway is just another accurate reflection of the times – one with little regard for the appreciation of history and experience versus one with more regard for the ‘I, me, my, now’ world of finger-snap solutions and immediate gratification.

I’m afraid the latter is more true and that trend seems to often continue at the expense of many great things which already exist.

May means Indy

The annual running of the Kentucky Derby signals me that May has risen, giving warmth and sun to the midwest (at times at least), and May will set with the Indy 500 weekend.

Most you already know how that first indelible Indy experience has set me on this path of fandom, but for those who haven’t heard the tale, it resides here as the second of a two-part post in this journal and also a more general view of it here, and then there’s a whole bunch of Indy posts that begin here and follow through the month of May 2009.

May has arrived, my camping passes and race tickets are in hand, and my group is ready. Save for the serious build-up of qualifying, loading up our campers, and departing our beloved Goshen, this is the time of quiet anticipation – passing the next two weeks by pretending to be occupied with other things, all the while hearing the sounds of Mays past.  Sounds like the warming of the engines, an immense crowd’s ambient din, Tom Carnegie’s voice, Jim Nabors singing, the Purdue band, the Command to start engines…  and the sound of a little second hand tick-tick-ticking a steady pace, which reminds me I am a little way from being in my seats.

I enjoy reading other’s posts regarding their first Indy experience and what it means to them.  I find mine has similar meaning and having that shared experience at totally unrelated times shows the depth of what the Indy experience means. I also find a kinship present with those people whom I’ve never met. 

It truly is a great experience from my youth and one that I appreciate more as time goes on. I intend to take my kids to their first raceday in the next two or three years, before they’ve developed that teen tendency to reject all things their parents like. With any luck, my kids will get half the enjoyment from it that I will, and, if that day leaves them with the lifelong impressions I had, I’ve done my job as a father.