Standing on the beach watching the tide roll in often makes me think of my family. Both the dead and the living. To me they are all very much alive. I have said it before and will repeat it...my parents did great things, but often in a cockeyed way. My father, for instance, loved his outdoor barbecue. Even in Ohio in midwinter, we still had grilled chicken, burgers, and steaks. Not everyone was so lucky to get chargrilled meats year round. I can still see Dad in the backyard during a monumental snow squall, running the electric snowblower to forge a path from the glass patio doors to the grill. Then he would stand at the grill as the wind howled and the blizzard raged. He had an umbrella in one hand held high to shield him from the elements. He had a spatula in the other hand, turning the chicken.
My mother liked to cook too. Inside. In the dark. She was saving electricity. But sometimes I would grope my way into the kitchen and stumble over my mother in the pitch blackness as she muttered, "That chicken cacciatore is nearly done."
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Desert Water Studies
Today while walking on the beach I let my mind wander. I wondered what it would be like if the Mafia in Las Vegas, wanting to do community relations and look respectable, founded a college in the desert near the city. Noticing a lack of such facilities nearby, they would decide to call it the Institute of Marine Science. They would reason that a great deal of instruction is done via computer anyway, so they could hook up all their students to the Internet and show them pictures of fish.
Probably the media would sneer and jeer at anyone being so stupid. But maybe young people would not see it that way. All those Nevada high school graduates who had always dreamed of studying marine science, but thought their location disqualified them, suddenly would be able to follow their bliss. Plus they would be able to IM their friends, "I'm studying marine science in the middle of the Nevada desert. How cool is that?"
Midway through their sophomore year, the students would get a little testy about the lack of real-life experience. But the Mafia, being awash in cash from all the casino revenues, would quickly buy a Lear jet to transport the kids to the California coast for a total immersion experience with marine life. They would institute Junior Year Aboard instead of Junior Year Abroad, giving a year of college credit for courses taken on a swanky cruise ship with premier dolphin, whale, and shark observation stations.
To make student life in the desert more exciting, the Mafia would field a college football team. Their green and blue uniforms would be relaxing enough to slow down the opposing team's reflexes, and the fightin' Marine Science Manatees would win almost all their games. This would cause perks to rain down on them, with grateful donors ponying up for scholarship money and various other bonuses banned by the NCAA.
Thoughts like this keep me from fulfilling my maximum potential.
Probably the media would sneer and jeer at anyone being so stupid. But maybe young people would not see it that way. All those Nevada high school graduates who had always dreamed of studying marine science, but thought their location disqualified them, suddenly would be able to follow their bliss. Plus they would be able to IM their friends, "I'm studying marine science in the middle of the Nevada desert. How cool is that?"
Midway through their sophomore year, the students would get a little testy about the lack of real-life experience. But the Mafia, being awash in cash from all the casino revenues, would quickly buy a Lear jet to transport the kids to the California coast for a total immersion experience with marine life. They would institute Junior Year Aboard instead of Junior Year Abroad, giving a year of college credit for courses taken on a swanky cruise ship with premier dolphin, whale, and shark observation stations.
To make student life in the desert more exciting, the Mafia would field a college football team. Their green and blue uniforms would be relaxing enough to slow down the opposing team's reflexes, and the fightin' Marine Science Manatees would win almost all their games. This would cause perks to rain down on them, with grateful donors ponying up for scholarship money and various other bonuses banned by the NCAA.
Thoughts like this keep me from fulfilling my maximum potential.
Way Too Many Rules
A South African friend of mine once said that one of the irksome things about this country is all its posted rules, and the fact that almost all of them are enforced. Go to Italy and you'll see what she means. We are told, "Don't step over the yellow line!" "Don't eat the produce before you buy it!" "Sign on this dotted line and not that one!" "Don't fish on the jetty!" And so on, ad infinitum and ad nauseam. I drove to Coastal City, near Sea City, for my day off today. I ran into this rule-making phenomenon there. Immediately in the attractive park by the sea I saw signs saying "No Littering" "No Curb Jumping" and "No Angle Parking." I wondered about that last sign as no matter where I parked, I would be at an angle to something.
I immediately wanted to leap out of my car and put up a few more signs saying, "No Grass Chewing" "No Hiccuping" and "No Reverse-Direction Skydiving." Anyone caught parachuting upward into the wild blue yonder will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. I wonder if part of the crime problem in this country is just young people fed up with all the rules. I would never have thought about jumping the curb until I saw the sign. Then I wanted to jump the curb in a spectacular way. It really woke up the closet anarchist in me. Whoever is posting all those signs: Just relax, willya?
I immediately wanted to leap out of my car and put up a few more signs saying, "No Grass Chewing" "No Hiccuping" and "No Reverse-Direction Skydiving." Anyone caught parachuting upward into the wild blue yonder will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. I wonder if part of the crime problem in this country is just young people fed up with all the rules. I would never have thought about jumping the curb until I saw the sign. Then I wanted to jump the curb in a spectacular way. It really woke up the closet anarchist in me. Whoever is posting all those signs: Just relax, willya?
Monday, October 27, 2008
Something Bothers Me
Something has me puzzled. It has to do with coffee. I drink it. I like it. But coffee does strange things to me between its entrance and its exit. To be brief: One cup in, three cups out. This violates some fundamental law of economics.
Thoughts like this keep me awake at night.
Thoughts like this keep me awake at night.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Flippin' Freeloaders
After church today I had lunch at Crankey's Catfish, one of the hottest lunch joints in the area. It is just outside Smalltown. John and Sue Barge were there along with Bob and Sandra Morrison, Ronald Jimenez, and Stan and Esther Essofigus. Over fried catfish, the conversation turned to that small minority of people who like to mooch off other people. Everyone had a story about that.
Sandra Morrison spoke of the time she got a wedding invitation in a large envelope. When she opened it, out fell an insert labeled "Great Places to Get Gifts." Six or seven expensive department stores were suggested. John and Sue Barge said that a couple they knew in the community invited them to their mother's 80th birthday party. "Come on down," they offered. "It's at the VFW. There is a seven dollar cover charge."
Esther and Stan told of a preacher who had once lived and worked in Smalltown. He was not married, and made a point of going to every funeral in the area whether he knew the deceased or not. He liked all that free food. He even took plates home with him. I offered my own story of my Uncle Griffey and Aunt Bert. They were heavily involved with "carriage racing," a type of horse racing popular in Southern Indiana. After the races were over and the horses were back in their trailers, Griffey and Bert and all of their friends would gather for a giant potluck picnic. Everyone brought a dish, and often friends of friends would come eat. After one of these potlucks, Griffey and Bert discovered that a couple had been there who did not know anyone. They just came, ate, and left. Afterwards Griffey and Bert and everyone else were saying, "But I thought they were your friends!"
My sister Lisa went through a freeloading stage as a child. Lisa, aged six, had a serious sweet tooth and loved the English teas we had while living there. So any time someone stopped by to visit with my mother in the morning, Lisa would pipe up, "Come 'round for a cup of tea this afternoon." Whoever it was, they usually said, "I'd love to!" leaving my mother no option but to prepare and serve an English tea of scones, cookies and cake to whoever had come over. Sometimes it was someone my mother couldn't stand. She was looking forward to the lady being gone and lo and behold, suddenly she was coming back that same day for tea. She was all the more likely to return if she was unpopular for a reason and rarely got asked anywhere. So Lisa got to eat cookies and cake, all the while being complimented for extending such a kind invitation.
Sandra Morrison spoke of the time she got a wedding invitation in a large envelope. When she opened it, out fell an insert labeled "Great Places to Get Gifts." Six or seven expensive department stores were suggested. John and Sue Barge said that a couple they knew in the community invited them to their mother's 80th birthday party. "Come on down," they offered. "It's at the VFW. There is a seven dollar cover charge."
Esther and Stan told of a preacher who had once lived and worked in Smalltown. He was not married, and made a point of going to every funeral in the area whether he knew the deceased or not. He liked all that free food. He even took plates home with him. I offered my own story of my Uncle Griffey and Aunt Bert. They were heavily involved with "carriage racing," a type of horse racing popular in Southern Indiana. After the races were over and the horses were back in their trailers, Griffey and Bert and all of their friends would gather for a giant potluck picnic. Everyone brought a dish, and often friends of friends would come eat. After one of these potlucks, Griffey and Bert discovered that a couple had been there who did not know anyone. They just came, ate, and left. Afterwards Griffey and Bert and everyone else were saying, "But I thought they were your friends!"
My sister Lisa went through a freeloading stage as a child. Lisa, aged six, had a serious sweet tooth and loved the English teas we had while living there. So any time someone stopped by to visit with my mother in the morning, Lisa would pipe up, "Come 'round for a cup of tea this afternoon." Whoever it was, they usually said, "I'd love to!" leaving my mother no option but to prepare and serve an English tea of scones, cookies and cake to whoever had come over. Sometimes it was someone my mother couldn't stand. She was looking forward to the lady being gone and lo and behold, suddenly she was coming back that same day for tea. She was all the more likely to return if she was unpopular for a reason and rarely got asked anywhere. So Lisa got to eat cookies and cake, all the while being complimented for extending such a kind invitation.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Poor Dear Aunt Harriet
Every family seems to have an "Aunt Harriet" in it somewhere. Aunt Harriet is the maiden aunt, or perhaps she is the widowed aunt whose husband, Uncle Horace, died 20 years ago. Aunt Harriet lives alone and her family feels sorry for her. "Poor dear Aunt Harriet," they muse. "How hard it must be for her to live alone." Or "Alone without dear Uncle Horace with her any more."
Meanwhile, let us pull open the curtains on poor dear Aunt Harriet's life and see what she is really up to. She may have, or have had, any number of occupations but let us say that this Aunt Harriet was a schoolteacher for years before she retired. Having been single for a long time, she has acquired the virtue of financial prudence. She may grow a garden. She knows plenty about how to stretch a food dollar at the grocery store. While others around her panic over their looming foreclosures, Aunt Harriet knew long ago not to buy more house than she could afford. So poor dear Aunt Harriet's house is paid off. So is her car.
Everyone thinks Aunt Harriet is lonely. Evidently they are unaware that over the last three weekends, she has been playing cards with nearby friends, attending meetings at her church and civic club, and taking in a local town festival. During other weeks she has traveled to cities to see friends who live further away. She has checked out a special museum exhibit, viewed a theatrical performance, and attended a symphony orchestra concert.
Aunt Harriet stays in touch with a horde of friends as well as family. She knows what is going on in their lives, both positive and negative. She has a pile of books that she will get around to reading when she has time. She is well versed on local, national, and international events because she follows them with interest. She has several favorite charities that are grateful for her support.
If Aunt Harriet was married at one time, then she misses Uncle Horace. They had a good life together. She looks at his picture often. But she does not miss the TV being tuned to football, basketball, baseball, or NASCAR eight hours a day. If Uncle Horace had a long illness before she died, she does not miss all the caregiving she had to do for him. If he was diabetic, she does not miss worrying whether he was taking his shots or whether his blood sugar would get so out of whack he would fall into a coma.
Her nieces and nephews enjoy her company. Years of teaching taught Aunt Harriet to understand kids. When one of those young people has a crisis, Aunt Harriet is a friend in need and a friend indeed. She helps where she can. Aunt Harriet often gives wise counsel during family crises because she is a step removed from the situation. But she is grateful not to be the parent who has to to deal with the child's relationship issues, drug or alcohol addiction, or court date for that recent shoplifting episode. When Aunt Harriet herself is ill or in need of help, swarms of grateful people are there to assist her.
In all my years in churches, I have not heard one sermon celebrating what is good about Aunt Harriet's life. Nobody seems to talk about singleness as a viable option for a Christian. Given that the North American divorce rate hovers at around 50 percent, I am intrigued as to why that might be. I have a theory about it, but that is another story for another time.
Aunt Harriet does not get mentioned much in church, nor does she garner newspaper headlines or interviews on TV. She does not mind in the least. She is too busy to notice. While everyone else is getting out of the stock market, Aunt Harriet is quietly buying more stocks. She has been around long enough to know that what goes down will come up again and vice versa. She thinks long term.
Poor dear Aunt Harriet.
Meanwhile, let us pull open the curtains on poor dear Aunt Harriet's life and see what she is really up to. She may have, or have had, any number of occupations but let us say that this Aunt Harriet was a schoolteacher for years before she retired. Having been single for a long time, she has acquired the virtue of financial prudence. She may grow a garden. She knows plenty about how to stretch a food dollar at the grocery store. While others around her panic over their looming foreclosures, Aunt Harriet knew long ago not to buy more house than she could afford. So poor dear Aunt Harriet's house is paid off. So is her car.
Everyone thinks Aunt Harriet is lonely. Evidently they are unaware that over the last three weekends, she has been playing cards with nearby friends, attending meetings at her church and civic club, and taking in a local town festival. During other weeks she has traveled to cities to see friends who live further away. She has checked out a special museum exhibit, viewed a theatrical performance, and attended a symphony orchestra concert.
Aunt Harriet stays in touch with a horde of friends as well as family. She knows what is going on in their lives, both positive and negative. She has a pile of books that she will get around to reading when she has time. She is well versed on local, national, and international events because she follows them with interest. She has several favorite charities that are grateful for her support.
If Aunt Harriet was married at one time, then she misses Uncle Horace. They had a good life together. She looks at his picture often. But she does not miss the TV being tuned to football, basketball, baseball, or NASCAR eight hours a day. If Uncle Horace had a long illness before she died, she does not miss all the caregiving she had to do for him. If he was diabetic, she does not miss worrying whether he was taking his shots or whether his blood sugar would get so out of whack he would fall into a coma.
Her nieces and nephews enjoy her company. Years of teaching taught Aunt Harriet to understand kids. When one of those young people has a crisis, Aunt Harriet is a friend in need and a friend indeed. She helps where she can. Aunt Harriet often gives wise counsel during family crises because she is a step removed from the situation. But she is grateful not to be the parent who has to to deal with the child's relationship issues, drug or alcohol addiction, or court date for that recent shoplifting episode. When Aunt Harriet herself is ill or in need of help, swarms of grateful people are there to assist her.
In all my years in churches, I have not heard one sermon celebrating what is good about Aunt Harriet's life. Nobody seems to talk about singleness as a viable option for a Christian. Given that the North American divorce rate hovers at around 50 percent, I am intrigued as to why that might be. I have a theory about it, but that is another story for another time.
Aunt Harriet does not get mentioned much in church, nor does she garner newspaper headlines or interviews on TV. She does not mind in the least. She is too busy to notice. While everyone else is getting out of the stock market, Aunt Harriet is quietly buying more stocks. She has been around long enough to know that what goes down will come up again and vice versa. She thinks long term.
Poor dear Aunt Harriet.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Excitable Election Elements
The next one week and five days are going to be a political thunderstorm. I cannot recall an election season as intense as this one. In Smalltown, some folks are up in arms because campaign signs for Abel Herrero are vanishing, courtesy of a thief in the night. A gang in Sea City is disappearing McCain/Palin signs. Yes, "disappearing" is now a verb courtesy of this election. Political fanatics are watching every dip, swerve, and roll of the polls. Outside the Smalltown County Municipal City Center where we vote (we're small so it's all rolled into one) people stand with poster boards held high with the names of their favorite candidates. At church meetings Smalltown members urge me to vote for certain folks and warn me that other folks will, should they win, run us into the ground and decimate the Smalltown school system.
I'm going to vote early today as voting is my patriotic duty. But I'm going to have lunch first. That ballot is extremely long. After the election some publisher is going to bind it into volumes one through ten.
I have to break the intensity with a story that makes me smile. Did you hear about the man who was looking for a way to make his marriage better? He went into a secondhand bookstore and bought a book called How to Hug. After he got it home he realized he had purchased Volume Eight of an encyclopedia.
I'm going to vote early today as voting is my patriotic duty. But I'm going to have lunch first. That ballot is extremely long. After the election some publisher is going to bind it into volumes one through ten.
I have to break the intensity with a story that makes me smile. Did you hear about the man who was looking for a way to make his marriage better? He went into a secondhand bookstore and bought a book called How to Hug. After he got it home he realized he had purchased Volume Eight of an encyclopedia.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Favorite Indoor Sport: Bash the Media
Liberal media. Conservative media. Corporate media. I hear the media labeled all the time and it is never good. But maybe that is what the media are there for. They make a handy target when I am in a foul mood and need something to bash. I can physically hit the punching bag and mentally hit the media.
At the Smalltown Kiwanis Club meeting this morning, we had a financial advisor from Edward Jones speak to us about how the stock market works. I learned that the Dow Jones Industrial Average (DJIA) is a composite index of 30 of the nation's top public companies. Each company is weighted based on its market capitalization. The combined value of all 30 equals the DJIA. The companies are chosen to give a broad reflection of publicly traded firms in the U.S. While the DJIA is an accurate measure of how the economy is faring, it represents only 30 stocks out of hundreds.
The media have done much hand-wringing over the DJIA recently. The Kiwanis speaker noted that the financial talking heads like to say either that the DJIA "plunged" or it "soared." He recommended a more moderate approach. The DJIA always goes up and down, and it goes in cycles. This time is no different. He expressed doubt that we were going to have another Great Depression like we had in the 1930s. He reported that the majority of level-headed economists say we are in a recession, and that it may or may not last through the first two quarters of 2009.
He added, "However, if you took 100 economists and laid them end to end, they would all point in different directions."
He ended by noting the media hysteria again. "If the media bought elevators from Otis, they would not have Up or Down buttons. They would have Soar and Plunge buttons." That echoes the old Jewish proverb, "If you die in an elevator, be sure to press the Up button." I hope that when I die I soar and do not plunge. Fortunately the grace of Jesus Christ and His work on the Cross assure me that I'm destined to soar.
At the Smalltown Kiwanis Club meeting this morning, we had a financial advisor from Edward Jones speak to us about how the stock market works. I learned that the Dow Jones Industrial Average (DJIA) is a composite index of 30 of the nation's top public companies. Each company is weighted based on its market capitalization. The combined value of all 30 equals the DJIA. The companies are chosen to give a broad reflection of publicly traded firms in the U.S. While the DJIA is an accurate measure of how the economy is faring, it represents only 30 stocks out of hundreds.
The media have done much hand-wringing over the DJIA recently. The Kiwanis speaker noted that the financial talking heads like to say either that the DJIA "plunged" or it "soared." He recommended a more moderate approach. The DJIA always goes up and down, and it goes in cycles. This time is no different. He expressed doubt that we were going to have another Great Depression like we had in the 1930s. He reported that the majority of level-headed economists say we are in a recession, and that it may or may not last through the first two quarters of 2009.
He added, "However, if you took 100 economists and laid them end to end, they would all point in different directions."
He ended by noting the media hysteria again. "If the media bought elevators from Otis, they would not have Up or Down buttons. They would have Soar and Plunge buttons." That echoes the old Jewish proverb, "If you die in an elevator, be sure to press the Up button." I hope that when I die I soar and do not plunge. Fortunately the grace of Jesus Christ and His work on the Cross assure me that I'm destined to soar.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Gettin To Know Ya, Lola
Shown in photo: Lola Flushpoole dressed as a witch for a church Halloween event, with Billy-John next to her who refused to wear a costume. He thought his own face and outfit were enough.
I had a meal with Lola Flushpoole after our church's Annual Meeting today. I told her that after the stress of that meeting, I was in the mood to get drunk. But since I'm in a church that frowns on alcohol, I would get drunk on iced tea. We went to Garza's Mexican Cafe which has Smalltown's best south-of-the-border cuisine and iced tea, on which I did indeed get drunk. Caffeine intoxication is almost as good as the real thing. What's more, it is safe to drive home afterwards.
Lola has a massively high IQ and writes music on her computer using a special software program. These piano pieces will be published soon. She also plays music with as much skill as she composes it. She just celebrated 60 years as a church musician. As a bonus, she also sews beautifully.
Lola sent me the following email recently which I reprint here pretty much verbatim. After reading it I concluded that God broke the mold after making Lola.
"Dear Irreverent Reverend,
I've decided I worry too much. I finally got the answer in the middle of the night to a question I missed on a test in high school. It was an I.Q.test, and the answer was multiple choice.
The answers were : "Jane Eyre", "Lorna Doone", and "Les Miserables". The question was:
"Jean Valjean was the hero in what novel?"
I not only did not know the answer, I was incensed that they would expect a girl from a small South Texas town to know it. When I finished the test, I went to the library and looked up all the answers to all the questions I knew I had missed. Of course, that involved reading Lorna Doone, Jane Eyre, and Les Miserables, which probably didn't hurt me; and, when the test scores came back, my I.Q. was perfectly fine (according to the experts) so I never pursued the inequity of the test.
Flash forward to college. Same darned test, word for word. This time I knew the answers. Flash forward again: Called to the Dean's office. Scared. The Dean wanted to know (as did the president and the Board of Regents) why, since I had the highest I.Q. ever recorded in that college, it was so well hidden. I confessed. They had meetings. They decided to let me keep my I.Q., since looking up the answers indicated a high degree of something or other, if not exactly intelligence. Flash forward to last night. Suddenly I knew! I should have known about Jean Valjean because of the word "hero". Jean is a man's name only (or particularly, anyway) in France; hence the connection with Les Miserables. Darn!
Has my life been a meaningless shambles? Should I confess my failings to the Dean? (Nope. Dead) the Board of Regents? (Nope. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead). You? (Probably not, since you come perilously close to being as, um, unusual as I am, and would begin your own set of ruminations.) Who, then? I know. I'll tell Jacques. He speaks French.
Editor's note: Jacques is her two-year-old grandson.
The Craig Ferguson quote I wanted to share with you was: "Before they close Shea Stadium down, they wanted to have one last Billy Joel concert. That thing's old and disgusting. It reeks
of stale beer. The stadium is even worse". Right below that, there was an ad for a new type of Hallmark Card. There was a picture of George Bush, saying "Celebrificate a Person's Bornfulness". I thought that was funny, too --- not in a political sense, since I am hopelessly apolitical; but because it reminds me of eduspeak, which I never quite learned, even after lots of years of teaching.
L.F."
Only Lola could have created this. It needs no further comment from me.
I had a meal with Lola Flushpoole after our church's Annual Meeting today. I told her that after the stress of that meeting, I was in the mood to get drunk. But since I'm in a church that frowns on alcohol, I would get drunk on iced tea. We went to Garza's Mexican Cafe which has Smalltown's best south-of-the-border cuisine and iced tea, on which I did indeed get drunk. Caffeine intoxication is almost as good as the real thing. What's more, it is safe to drive home afterwards.
Lola has a massively high IQ and writes music on her computer using a special software program. These piano pieces will be published soon. She also plays music with as much skill as she composes it. She just celebrated 60 years as a church musician. As a bonus, she also sews beautifully.
Lola sent me the following email recently which I reprint here pretty much verbatim. After reading it I concluded that God broke the mold after making Lola.
"Dear Irreverent Reverend,
I've decided I worry too much. I finally got the answer in the middle of the night to a question I missed on a test in high school. It was an I.Q.test, and the answer was multiple choice.
The answers were : "Jane Eyre", "Lorna Doone", and "Les Miserables". The question was:
"Jean Valjean was the hero in what novel?"
I not only did not know the answer, I was incensed that they would expect a girl from a small South Texas town to know it. When I finished the test, I went to the library and looked up all the answers to all the questions I knew I had missed. Of course, that involved reading Lorna Doone, Jane Eyre, and Les Miserables, which probably didn't hurt me; and, when the test scores came back, my I.Q. was perfectly fine (according to the experts) so I never pursued the inequity of the test.
Flash forward to college. Same darned test, word for word. This time I knew the answers. Flash forward again: Called to the Dean's office. Scared. The Dean wanted to know (as did the president and the Board of Regents) why, since I had the highest I.Q. ever recorded in that college, it was so well hidden. I confessed. They had meetings. They decided to let me keep my I.Q., since looking up the answers indicated a high degree of something or other, if not exactly intelligence. Flash forward to last night. Suddenly I knew! I should have known about Jean Valjean because of the word "hero". Jean is a man's name only (or particularly, anyway) in France; hence the connection with Les Miserables. Darn!
Has my life been a meaningless shambles? Should I confess my failings to the Dean? (Nope. Dead) the Board of Regents? (Nope. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead). You? (Probably not, since you come perilously close to being as, um, unusual as I am, and would begin your own set of ruminations.) Who, then? I know. I'll tell Jacques. He speaks French.
Editor's note: Jacques is her two-year-old grandson.
The Craig Ferguson quote I wanted to share with you was: "Before they close Shea Stadium down, they wanted to have one last Billy Joel concert. That thing's old and disgusting. It reeks
of stale beer. The stadium is even worse". Right below that, there was an ad for a new type of Hallmark Card. There was a picture of George Bush, saying "Celebrificate a Person's Bornfulness". I thought that was funny, too --- not in a political sense, since I am hopelessly apolitical; but because it reminds me of eduspeak, which I never quite learned, even after lots of years of teaching.
L.F."
Only Lola could have created this. It needs no further comment from me.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Invention of a New Animal
Have you ever heard of a jackdonkey? Invoking this animal is a way of insulting someone in polite company. Example: "That school counselor over in Sea City is a jackdonkey." I will remember that. In this election season, I am sure I will have opportunity to use it on some local politician who riles me up.
Like the one in Sea City who, if not already a jackdonkey, is fast growing his ears and tail. He actually said something about "too many from the trailer parks coming out to vote." He probably watches too much TV. In real life, there are many good, decent people who live in mobile homes and double wides. I know some of them. But on TV if you see any kind of trailer, it means there are drugs involved or else somebody's dead in there.
Like the one in Sea City who, if not already a jackdonkey, is fast growing his ears and tail. He actually said something about "too many from the trailer parks coming out to vote." He probably watches too much TV. In real life, there are many good, decent people who live in mobile homes and double wides. I know some of them. But on TV if you see any kind of trailer, it means there are drugs involved or else somebody's dead in there.
How to Grieve
Even in this usually lighthearted blog, the blogger has her somber moments. It was my sister's birthday last week, if she had lived. I would like to have given her a party. But she died 15 years ago. Sister Lisa and I did not always get along, but blood is thicker than water as they say and there is something about a sibling that isn't replaceable. I've been thinking about her and about my father who died last year and my aunt who died a couple of months ago. The hardest thing about getting older may be all the losses.
But I have a way to deal with this. A little way past Sea City is my favorite stretch of beach where, if I go in the late afternoon, very few people are there. If I walk a half mile or so it's just me, the foaming waves, and the seagulls. With the crashing water to drown me out, I stand on the sandy shore and have discussions with Dad, Aunt Jean, and Lisa. I ask them how they're doing up there and if they're playing cards like we used to down here. I urge them to think of us now and then and stress that I haven't stopped thinking about them. I tell them I'll see them before long. And the waves keep rolling in. There's something eternal about it all.
But I have a way to deal with this. A little way past Sea City is my favorite stretch of beach where, if I go in the late afternoon, very few people are there. If I walk a half mile or so it's just me, the foaming waves, and the seagulls. With the crashing water to drown me out, I stand on the sandy shore and have discussions with Dad, Aunt Jean, and Lisa. I ask them how they're doing up there and if they're playing cards like we used to down here. I urge them to think of us now and then and stress that I haven't stopped thinking about them. I tell them I'll see them before long. And the waves keep rolling in. There's something eternal about it all.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
So Many Stories I Can't Keep Up
Smalltown church members say what they think. It is refreshing and at times startling. At the recent "Dazzling Disciples" banquet, our church's equivalent of the Academy Awards, Billy-John MacDonald was nominated for an award and received it for his outstanding performance in church groundskeeping. I'm being facetious, but seriously he does a great job at this. After receiving the award and getting his photo taken with the bishop, Billy-John with the rest of us had to sit through about 100 other people getting awards. We did not know any of them. That was when I got caught stuffing my face with cookies, described in a previous blog entry. Billy-John sat as long as he could, but finally had to make a pitstop. On his way out of the banquet hall in First Cathedral Church in Sea City, he stooped down to address Tom Harvey, another church member who received an award that night. "Hey Tom," he whispered in a booming voice. "I'm gonna go relieve myself. You want to join me?" Tom's eyebrows shot up into his forehead and the whites of his eyes were visible across the room as he freaked out. Women do make restroom trips into social occasions. But I've never seen a man do it. Except for Billy-John!
There was more bathroom humor today at the church's monthly "Eat Healthy Live Interminably" luncheon. Each month, around ten Smalltown church members gather in the church fellowship hall under the expert guidance of our staff nurse. We each bring a healthy dish and its recipe to share, and receive a short lesson from the nurse on healthy eating, weight loss, heart disease prevention, or the health-related issue du jour. We got into a discussion of the necessity of eating fruits and vegetables. Flora, Myra MacDonald's sister, was present. (She was the one who, when she had acres of rain in her yard, told us she would start raising ducks.) Today Flora listened to Sandra Morrison extolling the benefits of citrus fruit such as oranges and grapefruit. Flora commented in her deep Texas voice, "Can't do it. They make mah butt raw if ya know what Ah mean." A few others acknowledged that Flora had provided enough information that they knew exactly what she meant. The discussion went on. Later Lola Flushpoole offered us oranges hand-picked from her own garden and promised, "They won't do what Flora says they'll do." Flora responded, "Ah hope not. Those oranges from the grocery store, they're good, but they almost turn me inside out."
There was more bathroom humor today at the church's monthly "Eat Healthy Live Interminably" luncheon. Each month, around ten Smalltown church members gather in the church fellowship hall under the expert guidance of our staff nurse. We each bring a healthy dish and its recipe to share, and receive a short lesson from the nurse on healthy eating, weight loss, heart disease prevention, or the health-related issue du jour. We got into a discussion of the necessity of eating fruits and vegetables. Flora, Myra MacDonald's sister, was present. (She was the one who, when she had acres of rain in her yard, told us she would start raising ducks.) Today Flora listened to Sandra Morrison extolling the benefits of citrus fruit such as oranges and grapefruit. Flora commented in her deep Texas voice, "Can't do it. They make mah butt raw if ya know what Ah mean." A few others acknowledged that Flora had provided enough information that they knew exactly what she meant. The discussion went on. Later Lola Flushpoole offered us oranges hand-picked from her own garden and promised, "They won't do what Flora says they'll do." Flora responded, "Ah hope not. Those oranges from the grocery store, they're good, but they almost turn me inside out."
Monday, October 13, 2008
Angela Lansbury: Wannabe!
When I grow old, I want to morph into Angela Lansbury. She is my hero and my role model. I first made her acquaintance when she played the witch Eglentine Price in Walt Disney's Bedknobs and Broomsticks in 1971. I was 11 years old at the time. While my peers were hoping to be pretty and popular like Marcia on the Brady Bunch and Laurie in the Partridge Family, I marveled at the fact that this old lady could be so cool. When Lansbury resurfaced as Jessica Fletcher in Murder, She Wrote, I was old enough to appreciate that this eccentric mystery writer/detective had the respect of everyone around her and was smarter than the sheriff, the doctor, and the various other characters combined. It was farfetched, but I loved it. This was female savvy at its best. It caused me at age 25 to aspire to think outside the box, reject conventionality, and work on becoming eccentric. I am still perfecting that trait. It is coming along nicely.
Lansbury is a humanitarian as well as a multiple Golden Globe award winner. She supports the fight against muscular dystrophy. She has been named a Commander of the Order of the British Empire. She was named a Disney Legend in 1995. She had one of the longest-running marriages in showbiz before her husband died a few years back. She is squeaky-clean and family-friendly. She gives every impression of being just as cool in person as she is on the screen.
Unlike her contemporaries who were beauties in their day and then faded, Lansbury keeps going in a way that does the Energizer Bunny credit. She is still acting at the age of 82 after having knee replacement surgery a couple of years ago. She is a character actor who usually plays offbeat older women, so her career does not depend on her looks. At this point I admire people and things that last long and wear well. There is nothing short-term about Lansbury. I never get tired of her.
There is nothing short term about Jesus, and I never get tired of him either. I'm not saying that Jesus and Lansbury are equivalent by any means. Jesus has no equal anywhere on earth.
But I do think Lansbury has some of his good points.
Lansbury is a humanitarian as well as a multiple Golden Globe award winner. She supports the fight against muscular dystrophy. She has been named a Commander of the Order of the British Empire. She was named a Disney Legend in 1995. She had one of the longest-running marriages in showbiz before her husband died a few years back. She is squeaky-clean and family-friendly. She gives every impression of being just as cool in person as she is on the screen.
Unlike her contemporaries who were beauties in their day and then faded, Lansbury keeps going in a way that does the Energizer Bunny credit. She is still acting at the age of 82 after having knee replacement surgery a couple of years ago. She is a character actor who usually plays offbeat older women, so her career does not depend on her looks. At this point I admire people and things that last long and wear well. There is nothing short-term about Lansbury. I never get tired of her.
There is nothing short term about Jesus, and I never get tired of him either. I'm not saying that Jesus and Lansbury are equivalent by any means. Jesus has no equal anywhere on earth.
But I do think Lansbury has some of his good points.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Further Adventures of Magnolia Ertle
Visiting with Emma Ertle and hearing her talk about her mother, whom she so resembles, made me laugh. When Magnolia Ertle finished secretarial school in Houston, she went to visit relatives up north and ended up staying with her grandparents for a while in Gary, Indiana. She became a secretary to a steel company executive. Emma said that was a tough job for Magnolia, working with those Yam Dankee hard-nosed managers. One day a manager was arranging steel mill tours for all the employees in Magnolia's division. The rationale seems to have been that the workers would do a better job if they had actually seen the steelmaking process. Magnolia had to create and monitor the sign-up sheet which everyone was required to autograph once they had completed the tour. It was not easy to make sure everyone had done the tour and then signed the sheet. One Friday, Magnolia sent the sheet around for the umpteenth time to track down the last few signatures. As the last signature came in, she realized that although she had had the tour through the mill, witnessing the orange flares and the smell of sulphur (which she described as a whirlwind trip through Hell) she was the only one who had not signed her own sheet. She looked at the heading at the top of the sheet. It asked, "HAVE YOU BEEN THROUGH THE MILL?" A frazzled Magnolia signed her name and wrote beside it, "D*mn right I have!"
Cats Carousing without Ceasing
Next door to the Smalltown church we have a cat breeding factory. It is self-sustaining, self-perpetuating, and self-multiplying. Most of the church members have counted cats at one time or another and the record so far is 21 felines. Rumor has it the house of cats is also a house of drugs. That theory is supported by the appearance of the house with all of its boarded-up windows. The residents boarded them up before Hurricane Ike and never removed them. A woman emerges once or twice a day to scatter an acre of cat food on the concrete slab in their back yard that borders the church parking lot.
I have an idea for what to do with the cats. Have some folks pull up in a vehicle while the cats are dining on their Kat Kibbles. The people sit a minute so the cats, if they are hiding, come out again. Then we throw an enormous net over all the cats and trap them. We then proceed to spray-paint them black. On Halloween, when we do "Trunk or Treat" and hand out candy from our cars in the parking lot, every child gets a free black cat to take home.
John Barge is skeptical. He says the idea is too far out and won't work and have you ever tried herding cats? Still, nobody has come up with a better plan and so far Animal Control has been hopeless.
I have an idea for what to do with the cats. Have some folks pull up in a vehicle while the cats are dining on their Kat Kibbles. The people sit a minute so the cats, if they are hiding, come out again. Then we throw an enormous net over all the cats and trap them. We then proceed to spray-paint them black. On Halloween, when we do "Trunk or Treat" and hand out candy from our cars in the parking lot, every child gets a free black cat to take home.
John Barge is skeptical. He says the idea is too far out and won't work and have you ever tried herding cats? Still, nobody has come up with a better plan and so far Animal Control has been hopeless.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Emma Ertle's Mother
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. That saying is true regarding Emma Ertle and her mother Magnolia. Magnolia was just as eccentric in her youth as her daughter is now. Magnolia, like Emma, had bright red curly hair and big blue eyes. As a young woman, Magnolia spent time in the big city of Houston going to secretarial school and flirting with many interested males. She lived in a cheap apartment at the time. One night she apparently saw something amiss in a lighted window in an apartment across the street. She called the Houston police. "Please come quickly!" she pleaded. "There's a man being indecent across the street." When a policeman showed up, he asked Magnolia to show him where the man was. Magnolia pointed across the street to a lighted window above hers. "I don't see anything," the cop said. "Oh, you can't see him from there," Magnolia explained. "You have to stand on this chair."
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Lola Flushpoole rides again
Lola Flushpoole, church piano accompanist, always has a new idea coming down the pike. I saw her yesterday, of course, during Sunday worship. Yesterday was apparently Pastor Appreciation Day. I did not know that until Lola told me. Lola's husband, Marvin, is a retired pastor. Lola asked me, "Do I have to appreciate Marvin today?" She then concluded that she would at least tolerate him gracefully.
Lola shares my love of mystery books. She told me she had hoped to give me all her old Agatha Christie mysteries until she learned I already had a full library of them. She has saved hers to read in her old age, but she said, "Now I have reached my old age and I still remember the solutions. So sad. I had hoped for a little more fog by this time."
Lola shares my love of mystery books. She told me she had hoped to give me all her old Agatha Christie mysteries until she learned I already had a full library of them. She has saved hers to read in her old age, but she said, "Now I have reached my old age and I still remember the solutions. So sad. I had hoped for a little more fog by this time."
Monday, October 6, 2008
Car Mechanics for the Naive
Given the tricks he used to play on his girlfriends, it is a wonder John Barge ever got married. I called him after I left the hospital after Elise's surgery. "Glad it went well," he told me. He also told me that one of his sons, a strapping dark-haired man in his late teens, recently played the same trick on his girlfriend that he had once played on a girlfriend long ago. "It's scary how much my sons imitate me," he sighed. "But I can see why, I guess. It was pretty interesting when I was trying to get rid of a girlfriend who just wouldn't go away. That's why I did it. It wasn't nice, but I was desperate. We were driving together and I don't know what came over me. It was late fall and I said to this girl Bridget, "Hey, winter's coming. Have you changed the air in your tires?" Bridget was a little gullible and very clueless about cars. She said, "No, should I?" I told her she should. "Once winter's here, you don't want that summer air in your tires.
"Later she called me. She was furious about having gone to a mechanic and requested that he change her air. It caused quite a stir at National Tire and Battery. All I could think of at the ripe old age of nineteen was that I should also have told her that her muffler bearings needed tightening."
"Later she called me. She was furious about having gone to a mechanic and requested that he change her air. It caused quite a stir at National Tire and Battery. All I could think of at the ripe old age of nineteen was that I should also have told her that her muffler bearings needed tightening."
Politics Pursues Me into Hospital
Election season is in the air and it is inescapable. Walking through the hospital corridor of Sea City Regional Hospital, I saw on the TV some NBC pundits talking about the Saturday Night Live parody of the Palin/Biden debate. Fortunately the surgery on Elise Magnum went well, much to the relief of her three sons and her husband who worships the ground on which she walks. They removed that dangerous aneurysm on her abdomen and she is recovering, altbeit with some pain. Leaving the hospital, I saw the daily news featuring other pundits rattling on about how nasty the candidates are getting toward each other in this final month of the presidential campaign.
In a way it is tiresome, and in another way it is addictive. When I am not watching political coverage I am wondering what is the latest news about it. It reminds me of Billy Ray Cyrus's country-western song.
"I'm So Miserable Without You, It's Almost Like You're Here."
In a way it is tiresome, and in another way it is addictive. When I am not watching political coverage I am wondering what is the latest news about it. It reminds me of Billy Ray Cyrus's country-western song.
"I'm So Miserable Without You, It's Almost Like You're Here."
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Pets a'Plenty
After church today I talked with Cheyenne in Austin. Cheyenne lost her dog to cancer last year and now she has a new Bichon Frise puppy. She called the fuzzy white critter Hero. She said she is glad that he's male. If she had gotten a female puppy, she would have named the dog Heroine. And she did not think that it would sound too good if the pup ran off, and Cheyenne had to walk all around the neighborhood yelling for Heroine.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Discipleship Awards Banquet
The South Sea City Church "Dazzling Disciples" awards banquet was held tonight. It took place at our local "cathedral church" in Sea City. The fellowship hall turned banquet hall was festooned with fall leaves and miniature cornucopias, along with candy corn sprinkled along the table runners. The emcee got up to speak and said, "You can tell a lot of us are from the country. We scattered feed on the tables!"
The look of utter surprise on four of my church members' faces when they got their Discipleship Awards made the entire evening worth it. They had been nominated by their peers in the churches and granted the award by the District Board of Laypersons. They looked really surprised when their names were announced and their pictures displayed. One of them got tears in his eyes as his disciple-of-Jesus activities were read out loud. All seemed to enjoy going up to get their certificates and posing for a picture with the bishop. Billy-John was one of the recipients. When his name was announced and his picture came up on the PowerPoint slide on the big screen, he hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. Then he shook his fist at us seated at the table beaming at him. "You dirty rats! You dirty rats!" he exclaimed.
Aside from the awards, the barbecue wasn't half bad either and then I ate rather too many cookies. This was unfortunately noticed by John and Sue Barge, Billy-John and Myra MacDonald, and Tom Harvey, the church members seated closest to me. I do not blame myself. I blame the fool who put the plate of cookies close enough for me to pick at absent-mindedly. I had plenty of time for absent-minded cookie-picking while the emcee was passing out awards to members of other churches that I did not know. Finally realizing what I was doing, I passed the plate of cookies to Tom Harvey to share them around. He twinkled, "You take 'em. You're doing a pretty good job with them yourself!"
The laughter around the table was rather too hearty. I looked at the decimated cookies and countless crumbs on the plate, and delicately covered the scene with a napkin.
The look of utter surprise on four of my church members' faces when they got their Discipleship Awards made the entire evening worth it. They had been nominated by their peers in the churches and granted the award by the District Board of Laypersons. They looked really surprised when their names were announced and their pictures displayed. One of them got tears in his eyes as his disciple-of-Jesus activities were read out loud. All seemed to enjoy going up to get their certificates and posing for a picture with the bishop. Billy-John was one of the recipients. When his name was announced and his picture came up on the PowerPoint slide on the big screen, he hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. Then he shook his fist at us seated at the table beaming at him. "You dirty rats! You dirty rats!" he exclaimed.
Aside from the awards, the barbecue wasn't half bad either and then I ate rather too many cookies. This was unfortunately noticed by John and Sue Barge, Billy-John and Myra MacDonald, and Tom Harvey, the church members seated closest to me. I do not blame myself. I blame the fool who put the plate of cookies close enough for me to pick at absent-mindedly. I had plenty of time for absent-minded cookie-picking while the emcee was passing out awards to members of other churches that I did not know. Finally realizing what I was doing, I passed the plate of cookies to Tom Harvey to share them around. He twinkled, "You take 'em. You're doing a pretty good job with them yourself!"
The laughter around the table was rather too hearty. I looked at the decimated cookies and countless crumbs on the plate, and delicately covered the scene with a napkin.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Costumes R Us
I bought my Halloween costume at the Halloween Superstore in Sea City today. In keeping with the season's tradition, I am not revealing what my Halloween alter ego will be until the Great Day arrives. As I left the superstore with plastic bag and hanger in hand, I saw Toys R Us and Babies R Us nearby. I grinned, remembering what my friend Cheyenne in Austin told me last night about a wedding she had attended. "Those bridesmaid dresses were skimpy," Cheyenne explained. "Think pink tutu skirts, bare shoulders and way too much skin. They must have bought their dresses at Sluts R Us."
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