Apologies in advance for the gushing, but I’m super-excited for my super-talented first cousin once removed! (Talent skips a generation…)
Her name is Erika Henningsen. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? She’s in the cast of The Four Seasons on Netflix with some unknowns named Steve Carrell, Tina Fey, Will Forte, Colman Domingo, Kerri Kenney, Marco Calvani…
She plays “Ginny,” the much-younger new girlfriend of Steve Carrell. NBD.
BTW, “Ginny” was the nickname of Erika’s grandmother, my dad’s sister Virginia, one of the sweetest people you could ever hope to meet. My siblings and I spent several summers with Aunt Virginia and Uncle Don and their kids (including Erika’s mom Marybeth) in Houston, Texas. The character’s name was Ginny in the original 1981 movie from which the Netflix series is adapted, but I’d never seen that flick. As soon as I heard the name on The Four Seasons, I was grinning from ear-to-ear at the beautiful symmetry of Erika’s character’s name paying tribute to her beloved “Gammy” (who gave her the acting bug).
Unsurprisingly to anyone familiar with Henningsen before this, she delivers this performance with such grace that it makes for a character I would want to be friends with. Heck, maybe even go on vacays with.
The Four Seasons is #1 globally on Netflix. NBD.
And while that series is dominating the airwaves (are they still called “airwaves”? Is it “streamwaves” now?), Erika is starring on Broadway in the jukebox musical Just in Time, playing Sandra Dee opposite Jonathan Groff’s Bobby Darin. NBD.
She’s “having a moment” for sure.
Oh, and later this month she’s going to dash right from taking a bow on Broadway to a nearby club for a cabaret show. NBD.
As my late night talk show idol David Letterman used to say, “as if that weren’t enough… and by gosh, don’t you think it ought to be?!” Erika also launched a Substack a few months back, called Millennial Bohemia. As a fellow WordNerd, I’m being as objective as a super-proud first cousin once removed can be when I say the writing is superb!
I remember when my wife and I visited Marybeth and Phil in California when their youngest daughter Erika was just a wee tyke. Even back then, she had the bug… she put on an impromptu performance in the backyard. It fills my heart with joy to see her still doing what she loves best, and excelling at it.
Our second oldest kid turned 24 on Derby Day. The next day he ran the Cincinnati Flying Pig half-marathon.
I went to three different spots along the route to cheer him on.
At Mile 3, when the runners come back into Ohio from Kentucky… didn’t see him.
At Mile 4, when the route takes them back into downtown… couldn’t spot him there either.
Finally, at Mile 8, I caught sight of him as he was rounding a turn past Eden Park. A quick shout-out from me, a brief smile and nod of acknowledgement from him, and then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
He’s 24. He’s off and running. All of our kids are. Our oldest will be moving out soon. Our daughter is renting an apartment in Clifton, near school, while she takes summer classes. Our youngest will be home from Indiana U. soon, but he’ll be off with his friends most of the summer.
Our son’s pace quickened in the second half of the race.
I know the feeling. Ferris Bueller taught me well.
It’s their race now. I’m just a spectator. Hoping to catch an occasional glimpse, a brief smile, a nod of acknowledgement.
Before they’re gone. Before I’m gone.
Seems like I was just a kid not so long ago
There were so many arrivals, so many hellos
Now my time behind is greater than my time ahead
Save up the minutes like flowers before all they’re dead and gone…
Last year Ted published a homemade graphic in his 2024 “State of the Culture” article and it really resonated.
Spoiler alert: it’s not getting any better in 2025.
Our new lives will be as shallow and predictable as the spinning wheels on a slot machine. And that’s by design—the web platforms study what happens in casinos and incorporate what they’ve learned in their apps.
Ted Gioia
The term “world wide web” seems almost quaint now, even though the “www” still remains. Many years ago, the “web” was about connection:
Not long ago, the Internet was loose and relaxed. It was free and easy. It was fun. There wasn’t even an app store.
We made our own rules.
The web had removed all obstacles and boundaries. I could reach out to people all over the world.
The Internet, in those primitive days, put me back in touch with classmates from my youth. It reconnected me with friends I’d made during my many trips overseas. It strengthened my ties with relatives near and far. I even made new friends online.
It felt liberating. It felt empowering…. I made new connections. I opened new doors.
Now, “web” is about control. We’re being flattened under the thumbs of a mere handful of people who control the mediums and the messaging.
But the standardization and bunkerization of web platforms has put power in the hands of the digital overseers. We are now caught in their web—and they are the spiders.
Give Ted’s great article a read. Give it some thought. And perhaps reconsider how you are spending your time. Because your mind is getting swiped…
When you watch this happen, don’t you crave a return of indie culture? Don’t you hope for a resistance movement? Don’t you want to see a backlash to uniformity and standardization? Of course you do. And you’re not alone.
I played pickleball yesterday. As is the custom of the elders.
Some of my friends think I play too much.
(It IS a lie. I played this morning too!) But the reality is I only play on days ending with a “y.”
Yesterday afternoon, I played at a place called PickleBarn. Not to be confused with Pickle Lodge. (I’ve played there before too!) It’s called PickleBarn because:
a. All of the good names were taken
b. It’s two courts inside a pole barn structure.
(The two women who own Pickle Barn had originally intended to renovate the old house on the property and turn it into a rental. But after they bought it, they discovered the land was zoned commercial. Life handed them lemons, and they turned it into a business with lemon-colored plastic balls.)
PickleBarn has a Bluetooth speaker on site so you can connect your phone and listen to some music while you’re playing. One of the dudes I was playing with yesterday hooked up his phone and started playing a bunch of tunes that were… how can I say this diplomatically… boring as heck!
Sorry, but it’s tough to get hyped for some intense pickleball action (perhaps an oxymoron) when you’re listening to Sweet Baby James Taylor and John Denver and Jim Croce.
The songs on his playlist were the polar opposite of “Jock Jams.”
It got me to thinking about what songs I’d want on my own jock jams playlist. Those songs that, when I hear them, get me hyped.
This one is probably my favorite. It’s a bit of a leftfield choice, but that’s how I’m wired.
Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Travelin’ Band” would be on there too. Some Ramones. Definitely Superchunk’s “Digging for Something.” “Makes No Sense at All” by Hüsker Dü. “Max, Jill Called” by The Bicycle Thief.. OK, these are all leftfield picks. So be it.
I think I should put all MY jock jams into a playlist and play it the next time I’m at PickleBarn… my opponents will be so busy wondering “what sort of weird music is this?” that they won’t be able to concentrate on the game.
Pickleball is my jam. With my jams going, it’ll be even more of a jam!
[Today I’m reposting the post below, from two years ago, because I’ve started relistening to the Valley Heat podcast (and some of the newer episodes from the companion Good Morning, Burbank show) and nothing has made me laugh more. And I think we all could use some good laughs these days.]
This post was originally published on April 25, 2022…
I’m late to the game on this podcast (sorry, I lead a sheltered life), but Valley Heat is the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.
It’s like A Confederacy of Dunces meets Arrested Development meets Fernwood 2 Night…. Doug’s deadpan delivery, a wacky cast of characters, fun music references, the bogus promo spots, and great theater-of-the-mind audio all combine to create a perfect storm of humor. Every element is note-perfect!
It’s a bit tough to explain because the folks responsible for the podcast have created a whole wacky world within a Burbank, California neighborhood. The protagonist, Doug, ostensibly is trying to crack the case of who is using his garbage can as a drug drop. But really that’s just a doorway to all sorts of shenanigans involving an accident-prone attorney, a house that’s also a nightclub/arcade/pizza parlor/car wash, a mean father-in-law (who also runs a muffler empire), a DEA agent who does stakeouts with his mom, legendary frisbee golf players, mean foosball players, Jan that Movie (listen to learn), and a weaselly optometrist. Speaking of which, here’s Doug talking about his teenage son, who was prescribed transition lenses:
I wound up binge-listening to all the episodes over a weekend and was cracking up the whole time. I don’t know what sort of mind can come up with a Simon & Garfunkel alternate version of the Cheers theme song, but I’m totally here for it!
The Patreon offers bonus episodes, which are equally entertaining. Here’s an excerpt about a new product that sounds perfect… other than the fire hazard: Don’t just trust my judgment on this, trust Eliza Skinner:
Or my buddy Howard:
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have some Jannie Cakes for breakfast…
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