Post Script: A Man's Globe

You may recall my mentioning a globe that sits in my boss's office. If not, that story can be found here.

My boss passed away unexpectedly Thursday evening. We were good friends. That night I sat in his office for a long time, staring at his empty chair and twirling the little silver globe in my hands as I often did when I talked with him.

The next morning, a shocked staff wandered in to work. Many sat in his office as I had done, staring in to the distance.

I couldn't help but notice, the old globe disappeared that morning. Nothing else has been taken. At first it seemed cold that someone would raid the office of our departed friend so quickly. But then, I understand why they took it.

Top Ten Medieval Dungeon Accessories

Author's Post-Script: This is a joke. Okay? A Joke. As in, fabricated for your enjoyment.

Today's Top Ten List:

These Afinia products came from a Medieval Dungeon, complete with their historical archaeological context:

What dungeon would be complete without a torchy-looking Propane Fireplace. I didn't know they had propane back then!

You wouldn't usually think of a retro jukebox as being a torture device. But the one we found was loaded up entirely with Meatloaf albums.

Apparently, the dungeonkeepers were big Russell Crowe Fans. Because they had this cool Gladiator Knife Display. I guess Russell is older than he looks.

A well-organized Dungeon is a happy dungeon! Here's the executioner's top of the line Garage Storage System.

This very unique fan. I have it on good authority that dungeonmasters talked in to electric fans to make their voices sound sinister, like Darth Vader.

These aren't just swimming pool floats! In the event of an emergency, such as flooding in the dungeon, these would drop from the ceiling. It's a well-documented fact that today's airline passenger comfort and safety standards are derived from the days of dungeonkeepiny.

This looks like a Wine Bottle Opener. But it's really a medieval torture device. We've scratched the 'place your thumb here' sticker off.

You think you hang your coats up on this Foyer Bench or sit on it to put on your shoes. But it's really for stringing up prisoners when they are questioned.

Also, in the interrogation room, we found a skeleton stretched across this one. Now it's a Hammock Stand.

Better than a Golden Globe…

Postscript: Today's article is not funny. But it is real.

A globe in a man’s office is a mark of distinction. It is the mark of an educated dreamer, an accomplished artist with a white collar, and a thousand other paradoxes.

It should not come as any surprise that Hollywood seized the globe and tried to make it a symbol of their own. Legitimizing the self-absorbed, destructive personalities produced by America’s darling industry on the west coast with an award that says nothing more than “you’re cool this week; please come to my party” is irony at least; that the award is given to American-made, English-language films is only the tip of the iceberg of hypocrisy. It is an indictment of our civilization that putting the name of a soon to be washed-up, divorced, rehabbed, and probably prematurely dead celebrity on a globe adds E-bay value faster than gold itself.

When I was young, I spun a globe that was tucked away in the classroom corner and imagined the places I would go. My finger would stop the globe on Germany, Japan, Chile, Mexico, Canada, and even the Island that decorates the southern tip of China, and I would imagine the sights, smells, and food, the sounds of a language I did not know. I wondered how I would get there, what I would do, who I would meet, what I would learn.

Now that I am grown, I still spin a Globe. It is a small one; it sits in the corner of the Vice President’s office. But when my finger stops the globe, instead of imagining, it calls back the memories. It reminds me of how people work, live, talk, eat, and travel. It brings back raw fish and taxi rides and business meetings and walking long streets. You see, I have been to all of those places, and more.

I love to point a spot out on a globe or a map to my children, share a story, and impart a little wisdom that came at a cost to me.

In Shanghai I was tricked in to getting in to a taxi… it cost me a lot of money to get out of it. I ended up running part of a charity race in Birmingham in the UK… with my luggage. We climbed far beyond where the tourists go on the Great Wall north of Beijing. And our weak German skills ordered way more orange juice than a couple of people can drink at McDonalds in Hannover. I have a fond memory of a long walk early one morning in Kyoto, Japan, when I managed to escape my hosts long enough to see the parts of the city that aren’t on a tourist map, and greet people as they began their day early one Sunday morning. I spent a long night walking around Mexico City looking for a hotel when mine couldn’t find a reservation. I have visited the poorest slums in Chile, and I have been treated like a king in Montreal.

And then my finger finds a spot on the globe that my feet have not yet touched. Vienna. Prague. Johannesburg. Reykjavik. And the child inside returns.

I am one of the paradoxes. And one day there will be a Replogle Globe, sitting by my bookshelves in the room with the wingback chair and the grand piano.