Blinded by the Light

“Blinded by the Light. Wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night” (singing).

What?

“Blinded by the Light. Wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night” (singing).

What?

Love that Manfred Mann’s Earth Band song. Always cranked it on Radio Hauraki when it was played. The Chopsticks variation melody, the pulsating of the cymbals in the opening—the chances for air guitar during the guitar riffs—“Blinded by the light. Wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night” (singing plus air guitar).

Whoa, mate, hold those verbal horses. What did you sing in the second line?

Wrapped up like a douche, another runner in the night.

Nah, mate. “Revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night.”

Not even, ow. I’ve been stuffing that up forever. Cut me some slack, bro; I’m as old as vinyl.  As Mr. Morgan, my English teacher, would say: “Lad, you’ve just committed a monk’s degree.”

Mondegreen…oh, you’re taking the piss out of me.

Any chance I can. Seriously, I didn’t know the correct lyrics. In fact, one of the reasons I loved “Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band” was that the lyrics were printed on the back cover of the album. And lemme guess: “deuce” is not a tennis reference?

A "deuce” coupe is a classic 1932 Ford two-door car.

My poppa worked for Bignell & Holmes, a Ford dealership in Gisborne, New Zealand. I wonder if he ever serviced one of those bad boys!

While we have the engine revving, there’s more: Manfred Mann’s Earth Band “Blinded by the Light” is a cover. It was written by Bruce Springsteen.

I’m gobsmacked. New Jersey’s favourite son—The Boss.

Yeah, bro. It appeared on his ’73 debut album, Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J.

Well, aren’t you the DJ du jour. If we’re going old school, then I’m going old school of yore! No rock songs, no rock stars, no rock concerts—just rocks on the Road to Damascus.

Road to Damascus?

Yes, wasn’t there a bloke also blinded by the light?

Saint Paul. It can happen when you look at The Son of He who proclaimed, “Let there be light.”

Is it blasphemous for me to say, “Let us be lighthearted”?

No. God has a sense of humour. For me, it’s a fascinating subject. You know physical light acts as both a particle and a wave.

Well, aren’t you the physicist du jour; a regular Albert Einstein. Enlighten me.

His famous equation—E=mc²—does include light. Have you ever thought about what it means?

It’s on my mental to-do list. Right up there after memorizing pi. For now, I’m still trying to figure out how we got from Springsteen to Einstein.

Spinning a yarn. Basically, Einstein shows that the energy of any object is equal to its mass multiplied by the square of the velocity of light.

186,000 miles per second.

You did stay awake in physics at KBHS. From the equation we can determine that the speed of light is a mathematical constant. That the mass of an object increases with its velocity, and that it can never achieve the speed of light.

Not even hooning around on the back roads of West Auckland?

No, bro.

(Singing): “But, Mama, that’s where the fun is!”

Between bros, only an object with infinite mass could equal the speed of light.

Sounds metaphysical.

I’ll let you know when I get there.

© 2025

Stephen J. Groak Books:

boon eat + drink

Boon.

Cool word, eh!

Regular readers to my blog know I am unashamedly a word nerd, and "boon" was a recent word-of-the-day discovery during my diurnal dive into Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda.

First some housekeeping: Our mates at Merriam-Webster define the noun “boon” as:

1. a timely benefit : blessing.

2. benefit, favor, especially one that is given in answer to a request.

Of course, as a lad growing up in New Zealand, I knew the word “Boone,” Daniel (RIP, Fess Parker) that is, from the telly. And for those old enough to remember the American action/adventure TV show, sing it with me:

Daniel Boone was a man,

Yes, a big man!

With an eye like an eagle

And as tall as a mountain was he!

On the sylvan playground of a West Auckland kiwifruit orchard, this boy often pretended to be this “man.” My Red Band gumboots were my “rawhide shoes” and yes, I did once throw a small axe at a tree hoping to split it in two. Ah, “what a dream-come-a-truer was ‘me!’”

Fast-forward to May, 2025 and the verdant playground of yesteryear was now sunny Sonoma County, California, on a getaway weekend with my wife, Teresa. The “coonskin cap on the top of ol’ Stevie" was my signature black Jacaru, and our trails concerned the majesty of Wine Country.

To my delight, my word-nerd eagle eye spotted “boon eat + drink” in the search results during an online query of places to eat. What a boon! A farm-to-table bistro by chef/owner Crista Luedtke in Guerneville offered a chance to eat + drink + reinforce a newly acquired word to my vocabulary.

I had to eat at this restaurant. I had to drink at this bistro. I had to know why the word “boon” was in the name. Menu, ratings, and reviews have their place—but for this patron diction was the overriding reason to visit. My wife and I headed off posthaste to 16248 Main Street, Guerneville, California snuggled in the Russian River Valley.

After we were seated, the cozy and hip ambiance of the place washed over us. Festive, too (three ladies at an adjacent table were wearing birthday party hats). If additional singers were needed to meet the socially acceptable “happy birthday” quorum, my wife and I were ready.

Marisa, our waitress, a cheerful lady of unfeigned mien, provided us with menus and an opportunity to voice a question yearning emancipation from the tip of my tongue.

“Marisa, I’m curious as to why the word 'boon' is in the name of the bistro. I know it means a timely benefit or blessing, but what’s the backstory on its use?"

“Boon was the name of the owner’s black-and-white rescue dog. He’s since passed on, a few years ago.”

The naming itch had been scratched; it was time to eat + drink.

“Anything you recommend?” asked Teresa.

“Everything is good. The shishito peppers are very popular.”

Good, nay, great they were: forget diction, benediction, all-hail-to-the-kitchen good! We followed that with seared duck breast served over fennel puree and spring veggies (moi), and pan-seared salmon with black lentils, kale, brown butter, smoked yogurt and blistered tomatoes (Teresa).

As I savoured every mouthful, pairing with a Golden State Cider, I was reminded of my parents’ dining rule of “always eat everything on your plate.” I honoured them both—and then some!

Tip of the Jacaru to Boon the dog; dear reader, go visit this delightful bistro and eat + drink.

🥝🥝🥝🥝

© 2025

Stephen J. Groak Books:

Amigurumi Christmas Yve by João Stanganelli Junior

Since it is now the holy-day season, my second review pertains to Christmas—specifically a doll. 

Huh? 

Indulge me in some context…

 

I had to wait fifty-seven years to receive my first doll. Oh, sure, as a father of four daughters, I frequented (with extended pinkie) many a doll’s tea party through the years, but, alas, no doll in attendance at these delightful occasions was ever mine to behold.

 

Mini-me-lad growing up in West Auckland, New Zealand, did have a one-eyed teddy bear named Ted (great thought was put into the naming), but no doll ever shared my childhood escapades.

 

And then for my birthday: hello, dolly!

 

Upon opening my gift from my wife and girls, I was at first shocked. A doll? Wait?…what?…whoa? They have all been blessed with a sense of humour, but their body language, facial expressions, and tone did not telegraph that the crocheted doll I now held in my hands was some sort of bizarre joke, or prank.

 

She was the real deal. She is the real deal. She is amigurumi Christmas Yve.

 

As a writer, I am continuously fascinated by adaptations of an author’s original text. One of the most famous examples is J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter fantasy series. It has been made into a play, video games, films, and a theme park! So this review is more a celebration of how a title character from a book can be reimagined in crochet. 

 

Amigurumi is the Japanese art of crocheting small, stuffed creatures, although artists all over the world now practise it. The word is a compound of two words—“ami” meaning “crocheted” and “kurumi” meaning “wrapping.”

 

One such creator is Brazilian grandfather João Stanganelli Junior. What started out as a retirement activity is now a thriving international business. My wife and daughters contacted him to make an amigurumi version of Christmas Yve.

 

Stanganelli has vitiligo (a disorder in which the skin loses its pigment cells in patches), and many of his dolls also reflect this condition. A personal philosophy of inclusiveness—especially for children—has manifested in other amigurumi creations that display many of the conditions that his customers experience: some dolls are in wheelchairs, or have alopecia, or use hearing aids, et cetera.

 

Since writing Christmas Yve: A Kiwi Elf’s Dream to Join Santa, I did adapt it to a Christmas play that our church teen group presented in 2015, but I never, ever imagined Yve as a crocheted doll.

 

Obrigado, João Stanganelli!

 

🥝🥝🥝🥝

© 2021

If you are interested in acquiring one of Stanganelli’s amigurumi dolls, check out the Facebook page:

 

https://www.facebook.com/lenaamigurumi18

 

Merry Christmas!

 

Stephen J. Groak Books: