Nobody Believes Me

Ah I wasn't a very good blogger last week. I guess things were just kind of crazy busy. It seems overwhelmingly that people do not think that a Dodge Durango is the right choice for me. So I guess I'll keep looking until I find the right vehicle.

So you may be wondering why I have pictures of Jim Thome, the Dunn Loring Metro Station and a weed whacker . And I will be happy to tell you. I am not sure exactly when I decided I would not lie. At some point I said nope, no lies. Now it wasn't like I was big liar or something but I just decided to not tell any lies, not even white lies. Now I am not perfect at this but I can't remember the last time I blatantly lied to someone. You would think that this would put me in awkward situations but I have found that instead of lying I just say nothing at all. I think that this decision has helped me cultivate a reputation of honesty. That is why I find it hard to believe that some people have a hard time believing me about two things.

When I was 9 years old my dad retired. Up until then he had consistently worked 80 hour weeks and I think he took off about a total of four days in 5 years. He was absolutely chained to the business. But when I was in second grade dad sold the business and commenced his new career of keeping on eye on me. My mom used to tell the story that my Grandpa thought I was going to be a juvenile delinquent when I was little. My dad must have taken some credence in that because for the next 18 years he has helped keep me on the strait and narrow. Of course there were moments when he couldn't keep an eye on me, like when I was at school or at a friend's house. So the newly retired Dad Dorsch used his time not devoted to keeping me out of trouble on other things. He liked to read, walk the dog, go for walks, and garden. Now my dad always sort of wanted to be a rancher farmer. I often referred to him as a fake German cowboy. He claims that he can ride a horse, I've seen him accurately shoot a gun, he has cowboy boots, and even a belt buckle with his brand on it. I mean if he wants to, he can look and act the part of a rancher/farmer. So when he retired, we said good bye to our long time family gardener Jose, and my dad took over the duties of what he called irrigating (most suburbanites call it watering but like I said he always wanted to be a rancher) and taking care of the yard. His first piece of gardening equipment to purchase was an edger trimmer or what is often referred to as a weed whacker. It was a little red one that you plugged in with an extension cord. Needless to say I was intrigued by it. We had never had anything like it before. Under his supervision my dad would let me use the weed whacker. I thought it was great. We had this little red weed whacker for some time. I don’t know exactly how long but I do remember distinctly that one day I was in the garage and I saw the weed whacker in a trash can. It looked to me like my dad had just placed it there after using it to set it aside momentarily. Now my memory is slightly fuzzy but I am pretty sure we went on a family vacation to where else…yes you guessed it Utah. We were probably gone two weeks having a good time with my grandpa at the ranch and then came home to Whittier. The grass had of course grown while we were gone and my dad was anxious to get the yard back in order. The time came to use the weed whacker and he couldn’t find it. He came to me and asked “Peter, where is the weed whacker?” I told him the last place I saw it was the trash can and that was it. He was certain that I knew the whereabouts of the weed whacker and I categorically denied that I knew its current location. I stood by my conviction because in all honesty I didn’t know where it was. We now fast forward three years when a young man starting spending a considerable amount of time at our house. He claimed he was helping my sister with her resume but even at eleven years old I knew there was something more than polishing up the old cover letter going on. As this young man became more and more a part of the family, my other family members let him in on a few ways to tease me ( they all know about my thing about flys) that included interrogation on the location of the weed whacker. It seemed my future brother in law Don took particular pleasure in asking me about the weed whacker. I would be borderline tears denying that I had information on the weed whacker. It a weird way I felt a bit like Joseph Smith, I would hardly believe it myself but it’s true. I promise I have no idea what happened to that dumb weed whacker. You would think that after years of persecution that I would finally just admit if I had any knowledge of the weed whacker’s location but alas I do not. Not only do I not know it’s location I have no idea what became of it. Family members have theories that perhaps my buddies Robert or Robin broke it and I’m covering for them, but seriously I have no idea where that thing is.

So let us recap, I am a very honest person, and that I have made an effort to cultivate a reputation that I always tell the truth. That is what is so frustrating about the second thing that people refuse to believe. Very simply I saw current MLB superstar and likely future hall of famer Jim Thome at the Dunn Lorring Metro Station in Fairfax VA.

When I first moved out to Washington DC I had a tough time finding a place to live that was right for me. Luckily my best friend JJ and his dear wife Jennifer took pity on me and let me move in with them, use their car, eat their food and otherwise adopt me. They were so good to me. The Metro was about one mile from there house and JJ would come and pick me up every day. Freaking amazing. They were so good to me. So every work day I would metro from Capitol South to Dunn Loring . One night, I think it was January I stepped of the escalator and saw a very large man (I think Jay Mohr described Jim Thome as Paul Bunyan-esque) wearing a black North face type fleece jacket. Now I did not approach Mr. Thome. And I am not really sure why, I’m thinking it’s possible this was before I met Bo Derek so likely I had not regained my confidence in approaching celebrities. Now with only a few exceptions (yes Dan I am talking about Bob Woodward) if I see someone famous in public I will approach them and introduce myself. The only other time I got gun shy besides America’s premiere journalist was when I saw Angie Harmon and Jason Seahorn at the University Park Mall in Dallas. But they were with their kids so I didn’t want to disturb them (incidentally I was once on a flight with them coming from Phoenix but they were in first class so I didn’t have a chance) . But I didn’t approach Jim Thome but I am all but certain that it was him. My instincts are usually right when I see someone famous (last month I thought I saw Herschel Walker in the Cannon Building and sure enough Stevie my intern confirmed that he had also seen Herschel and another one of my coworkers I think Molly told me that he had been on the Hill advocating). I really believe in my heart of hearts that it was indeed Jim Thome. Now my good friend Dan Nelson is skeptical. He believes that I saw a man who looked like Jim Thome wearing a black fleece but that there is no way that an All Star first baseman is riding the Metro from Dunn Loring. But maybe Jim Thome left his car at West Falls Church or he worried about finding parking in the city or any other number of reasons he would be on the Orange Line. I don’t know. I do know that I really think that it was him. If any of the loyal Pete Chat readers know Jim Thome and can find out if he was in Washington DC in the early part of 2006 please let me know.

Wow. I feel a lot better now that the world knows my side of the story. So I want you to know that if you ask me a question you are getting the truth, and if I think the truth will hurt you I just won’t say anything at all, but I’m pretty much an open book. If you want to know I’ll tell you.