Archive for January, 2011

Super Bowl

The Green Bay Packers are in the Super Bowl for the first time in over a decade.  I’ve spent a few hours reflecting on the power of the Packers in my life.  I remember probably a thousand moments, many of them captured in snapshot, where I’m showing my colors: Green and Gold.

For instance, here I am on a couch in New York, circa 1977, presenting my colors while my Jewish family argues about dinner in the background.

Packers

Beautiful.  And, I did remember my love for the Packers to be monolithic.  I remember crying as the terrible teams of the seventies were whipped yet again (of course, there were moments of greatness: who can forget Lynn Dickey to James Lofton?). Oh did I cry.  But I stuck with them, right?  I was steadfast, loyal, patriotic… Or, was I?

Is it possible, at some dark point, my faith was shaken?  I don’t remember!

But, while digging through boxes for photos, I found this!  I’m quite sure it’s a Franco Harris jersey!

That's right. Pittsburgh Steelers. 1979.

Yes.  The Steelers (Bradshaw, Swann, Stallworth, Greene, Harris, Ham, Lambert, etc.) won the Super Bowl in 1978 and 1979 and it seems I caught the fever.  That’s wrong!  Un-Patriotic!  Not cheese-headed!  Wait… What kind of kid was I?  A traitor?

Then I found this picture, which clearly shows me training to play classical music in a Russian conservatory.

Going all Rostropovich on it!

And then I realized that I don’t remember my youth that well.  Where was I?  Who was I?  The seventies were Cold War years.  Was I part of this some how?  Was I sent by Soviet classical musicians for some reason?  Did they put me in a Steelers jersey so I’d blend in?  Look at this!  Siberia, am I right?

Siberian Herbach

That’s a lot to chew on.  Thankfully, I have too much work to do today to really get into it.  I think I’ll buy a cello later, maybe tomorrow, to see if I can still play (I’m sure I was brainwashed and re-wired so that I cannot forget how to play cello).  After that, I’ll probably go for some pizza, because I could use a nosh.  Then, I’ll pursue the truth.  Then I’ll read the latest Super Bowl news.  Go Packers.

The Whole Warm World

This week was a good one in Herbach.  Sourcebooks Fire bought the sequel to Stupid Fast, which means the Reinstein story will continue through another book (that’s the last one, I’m sure).  I’m writing a sequel.  Weird!  Certainly a happy situation.

The super-charged Gae Polisner, author of this spring’s The Pull of Gravity, posted a tiny bit of the sequel (which is totally in process at the moment — I think it’s called The Whole Warm World) on her blog yesterday.  A bunch of people stopped by and commented and posted tiny bits of their own new work.  You’d never find this sort of sweet community in adult literary land.  Yes, I do like the YA Universe.  Very friendly place!

As a small child…

I’d throw myself into snow piles when the Packers would lose, which was often in the late 70s.  Still, I would wear my hat, showing my soulful allegiance to the team…

Snow pile smiling, because I loved the Packers.

This is a big week in the upper-Midwest.  Although I am in Minnesota, my heart right this moment, is at Kenosha’s Brat Stop, preparing for the Illinois/Wisconsin rivalry.

I am not shouting FIB (effin Illinois b-tard), however, which I would’ve when I was a teen, and also in college. I am just psyched, though.  Damn.  I do love the Green Bay Packers.

Stupid Fast ARC

Review Copy

Just got a box of Stupid Fast review copies.  This is one pretty looking book.  I’m very, very happy with what Sourcebooks came up with to showcase Felton’s tale of woe and the opposite.  Just a few short months before it’s on shelves.

So freakin good to be on my couch in Mankato.

First Car, part I

My first car was a neon green Ford Fiesta, 1979.  It went from zero to 30 in one second.  It had a hard time exceeding 40, however, except on steep declines.  The car was very light.  It couldn’t have weighed more than 140 lbs, which is the average weight of great dane.  My friends would pick up my neon green Ford Fiesta, 1979, and turn it sideways in its parking slot up at the school.  They’d place the back bumper inches from the car to the right and the front bumper inches from the car to the left.  I’d walk into the parking lot, swear, and sit down next to the bicycle rack (thinking I should’ve ridden my bike).  I’d wait until one of the cars left, which would give me enough space to turn and pull out, because the Ford Fiesta, 1979, could turn on a dime.  If the owner of the car on the right showed up first, I would get yelled at, because they would have to use the passenger side door to get in, as my turned car blocked access to the driver’s side door.

Here’s a video of a neon green Ford Fiesta, 1979, doing poorly in a rear-collision test.

It’s my first day of the semester today.

 

Fraudulence!

Wait a second...

While watching Ghost Hunters International, Herbach realizes ghost hunters are speaking English to Danish ghosts.  Why do the ghost hunters think the ghosts will respond?  Why do the Danish ghosts sometimes respond to lines like, “Don’t be shy, guys. We’re cool, okay?”  Smells bad!

His belief in ghost hunting, generally, is shaken.

Am I a fraud?  I’ve spent the last four weeks battling a new book.   It doesn’t get easier.  Sometimes it feels harder.  Am I kidding myself?  Am I speaking English to Danish ghosts?

Man!

I’m sure it will all work out, dang it.

Happy New Year!


I am…

Geoff Herbach. I am the author of Stupid Fast and Nothing Special, among a bunch of other stuff. When I'm not writing, I teach writing at Minnesota State, Mankato.

Stupid Fast

Nothing Special

I’m With Stupid

Fat Boy (Gabe Johnson Takes Over)

PowderKeg Stage

Herbach's favorite store

My Bizzle

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