A Son's Tribute To His Father

Charles Barnhart, brother to my wife, died on October 23, 2008. His son, Claude, writes a newsletter for the residents of the lake on which the family has a cabin. This is part of the article that Claude wrote last spring; it was lurking in a nook or cranny on my computer that I just ran into and thought it was worth sharing. Here it is:

“Fishing Bits and Bites”

Hello everyone I bet you are excited to get back out on the lake and do some fishing, me too. I have enjoyed some ice fishing with average success but am ready to get back in the boat. I am finding this years letter extremely difficult to write for one particular reason. As some of you may know I lost my fishing partner in October. My dad was a great angler and an even greater father. What makes him or any other person a great angler has nothing to do with expensive rods and reels, the latest electronics, or tackle boxes full of lures. To me it has to start with a passion for the sport. When you are just as happy if not happier that your son, daughter, or father caught more or bigger fish than you that day, or you go out fishing in the worst possible conditions imaginable, these are two examples of true passion for the sport. Another thing that is critical in becoming the best angler you can be is knowledge, you all know about reading in fishing magazines for the latest tips and tactics, I’m talking about the knowledge you get from other people. My father taught me so much about fishing as I was growing up, which I still use today in everyone of my fishing adventures, however as years moved on and certain aspects of angling changed, he was willing to listen, learn and adapt to change, that’s the making of a great angler. I could go on for hours and take up several pages of our newsletter with stories about my dad and I fishing, but I won’t. If my father was here today and he was going to make one comment to all of you, I think he would say “Take your kids fishing”. You will make so many great memories that are just irreplaceable, trust me I know. Fishing is a sport best shared with family and friends. In regards to the fish in our lake, the walleyes seem to be doing well. ... Thank you so much for listening to me share my views and opinions. Enjoy the lake and I wish you all success in your angling adventures in the years to come. I would like to dedicate this years letter in loving memory of Charles Barnhart. I love you dad. Claude Barnhart

Senior Moments No More

Many of us have had that experience when someone's name momentarily slips our mind, or the word we are seeking has found a hiding place in our memory bank. We laughingly call it "a senior moment." Well, I was talking with a friend last night who has been diagnosed with lung cancer and pulmonary fibrosis, and has been taking morphine for the pain. During the conversation, he kept pausing, searching for the correct next work, and blaming the pauses on the morphine. So in honor of Large Edward, I'll start calling those pregnant pauses "morphine moments" from now on.

Ah, Rain

I've been sitting on the patio this morning, reading the paper, eating breakfast and having a good cup of coffee. We had a thunderstorm roll through last evening, so got to see the lightning flashing and hear the thunder roll. The rain was a refreshing change from the drought-like conditions during this year's monsoon - or, should we say "non-soon" - for the lack of moisture. Storms here are hit-or-miss affairs. One part of the Valley can receive a torrential downpour and flash floods, while a short distance away, the ground is dry and parched. There was a flash flood in Oak Creek the other day, caused by a local 3" rainfall, that tore through a shopping area and "floated cars around like beach balls" as one witness described it. We have a Stupid Motorists law in Arizona that fines those drivers stupid enough to drive through flooded washes and are washed away, requiring risky rescues. So beware of the washes when driving in Arizona. You, too, could wind up on television as annother good example of a bad driver.

Reading Assignment

Your reading assignment for this month is:

1. "Culture of Corruption" by Michelle Malkin.
2. Chapter 3 of "An Inconvenient Book" by Glen Beck.

Your test will be at the next election.

The Missing Posters

Here are the missing posters.

Freedom

A friend sent me an email with a bunch of World War II posters. I saved two because they reminded me of the fight we Americans are in to remain free. I’m not talking of the fighting going on in other parts of the world. No, I’m talking about the fight going on in this country between those Americans who want to keep their freedom and those politicians in Washington, D. C. who are trying to take our freedom away. The current issue is about Health Care. Americans should have the right to choose whether or not they want to buy a health care plan. However, our President and some members of Congress are proposing legislation that would mandate we participate in some form of health care. There goes our freedom of choice. How many more of these restrictions are we going to stand for? I’ve already written to President Obama and my Congressional Representatives to state my opposition to the proposal. Have you?

(Unfortunately, I can't find the posters.)

Controversy

In January 1996, Rev. Joe Wright was asked to give the opening prayer to the Kansas House of Representatives. His prayer stirred an uproar with some people in the building. Here is his prayer, so you can decide for yourself how controversial it was:

Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, "Woe to those who call evil good," but that is exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values. We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery. We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare. We have killed our unborn and called it choice. We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable. We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem. We have abused power and called it politics. We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition. We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression. We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment. Search us, oh God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and set us free. Amen.

Under the Knife, Again

Last month, during my annual physical, the doctor pointed to a red spot on my shoulder that I hadn't noticed before, and said he would take it off and have it biopsied. So back the next week to go under the knife. It turned out to be a basal cell carcinoma, which is the least worrisome type of cancer. Today, he removed the rest of the cancer cells in the area. He asked if I wanted to see what he had removed and I quickly declined. I'm curious about some things, but not flesh and blood, especially mine!

Words vs. Action

There are a bunch of emails being circulated around the Internet from people who are concerned with the direction our government is taking us - towards a socialistic state - and they all encourage the recipient to forward them to other friends. Well, it seems to me that sending out such messages should include a request to forward the message to the recipient's Congressional representatives and to our President, who all have email addresses. If we only "talk" among ourselves, our elected officials will never know how we feel about those issues. So next time you receive one of these messages, if you agree with it, send it on to Washington. If you disagree with it, write to Washington anyway and tell how you really feel about it. They may decide their jobs are in jeopardy and start to listen to the people who put them in Washington and who have the power to see that are replaced. Communicate!

Hymns

I’ve always liked hymns and Gospel music. I remember listening with my Mother to Edward McHugh sing hymns on the radio when I was a little boy. My favorite was “In The Garden”, which I think was his theme song. And then I remember that my brother and I sang in the choir of the Episcopal Church, probably when I was nine. We moved from Batavia right after I turned ten, and sometime later we joined the choir of the Emanuel Evangelical and Reformed Church in Rochester. I had a boy’s soprano voice and I especially liked “Angels We Have Heard On High” because of the soaring “Glo-o-o-o-o-oria” chorus. It was thrilling to me.

Teacher?

I just finished reading “Teacher Man” by Frank McCourt, about his years teaching English in New York City High Schools. He encourages his students to write, write, write to help them understand themselves and the world around them. And I started thinking about his teaching methods and his insecurity about his ability to teach and I thought that we’re all teachers. We teach something to everyone we meet. We try to teach them about who we think we are, and they learn about who we really are.

I was a father to seven children at one time in my life, two came as step-children. I tried to teach them, using my parents, aunts, uncles and other adults as role models, but never felt completely comfortable in the role. They learned. They learned some examples of how not to be a father, along with some examples of good parenthood. They grew up under my usually heavy-handed style. They’re parents now, all but two, and they’ve had their turn at teaching their own, and I’m proud of them for the way they’ve handled themselves through all the twists and turns in their lives. And so the teaching continues, generation after generation. And I feel very lucky to have been there during their growth, and thank them for the things they taught me and are still teaching me. I’m sure they don’t think of themselves as teachers to their father, but they are and I’m proud of them for it.

It was nice of North Korea to help us celebrate our holiday by shooting off fireworks.

Glasses

It was in 1948, after I graduated from High School, then turned 17, that I first wore glasses. Plastic rims. Prescription Ray-Ban sunglasses with a case that went on my belt. Over the years, I progressed to bi-focal lenses. Around 1970, the Ophthalmologist detected the first signs of cataracts in both eyes. Then on to tri-focal lenses, and the cataracts were slowly increasing. Last month, the left eye was operated on and a bi-focal lens was inserted, followed by lots and lots of eye drops, one of which I‘m still using. Last week, the right eye went under the knife, or whatever they use, and now the eye drop routine is in full swing. Sometimes, I can see clearly out of both eyes to work on the computer, sometimes only the left eye focuses. The Ophthalmologist said it’s only a matter of a few weeks for my brain to adjust to the new focused images on the retina. I hope so. I’ve read two large print edition books, and I’m looking forward to finishing a Zane Grey novel started before all these surgeries happened.

My Left Eye

Last Wednesday, May 27th, a cataract was removed from my left eye and a bifocal lens was inserted. The total time in the facility was about an hour. No pain. So far, things are a little fuzzy in the morning, but distance vision improves during the day. I haven't had clear focus for reading until this afternoon, when things started to clear up a bit. The Opthomologist said that it could take 2 or 3 weeks for the lens to "settle in", so I'm not discouraged. In the meantime, if there is something I really want to read, I have an old pair of glasses from which I've removed the left lens.
The right eye cataract will be removed on June 24th.

Sunscreens

We have had our patio screened in against bugs and the sun. That should help keep the temperature down.

Social Site For Seniors

According to the morning paper, there is now a social site for "seniors" to use in place of Twitter or Facebook. It's called Genkvetch, and was created by three people in their 60s who live in Florida. The number of people registering is growing by leaps and bounds. I haven't checked it out yet. Have you?

The Olympics

The Olympics were held last week at Westminster Village and yours truly won two medals. I had entered Putting, Horseshoes and Billiards competitions. For Putting, we were given 3 practice putts on an artificial surface with 3 cups ranging in value from 1 to 5. Unfortunately, I scored zero. For Horseshoes, we each played best of three games. I lost the first match, but was told to pitch for the bronze medal, which I won. Then for Billiards, each contestant was given 5 shots, including the break. Winner was the person with the highest number of balls sunk; in case of a tie, the value of the balls was counted. Another resident and I had tied, but I won the play-off, so won the gold medal. All in all, everyone had a great time.

Canadian's Don't Want Us in Cuba

An excerpt from today's Toronto Globe and Mail:

Canadians aren't exactly tossing back celebratory mojitos at the prospect of Americans soon being able to travel freely to Cuba, an island many Canucks covet as their own.

In fact, recently introduced bills in Washington that recommend lifting the 46-year ban on U.S. citizens travelling to Fidel Castro's fief have many Canadians in a sweat that the island's laidback calm will be shattered once the Americans - typecast, fairly or not, as loud, crass vacationers - descend.

"I kind of like it being our own little island," said Randy Pryce, a Toronto-based theatre technician who just returned from an all-inclusive, four-star resort in Playa Costa Verde, north of Santiago. "[Lifting the ban on U.S. tourism to Cuba] will be good for their economy, but not for the people.

"As a tourist, it's really nice to go somewhere where everyone is treated equally. The Americans could change that. As tourists, they do have this built-in reputation as pushy and demanding. Plus, I think they'd be disappointed in what a four-star Cuban hotel is, as opposed to a four-star American hotel," said Mr. Pryce, adding their resort was 70 per cent occupied by Canadians.

Change, For Sure!

There were many campaign speeches with lots of fluff and little substance - much ado about “change” was all. Now the “American People” have voted for a new administration with hopes that the new kids on the block can fulfill the promises made during all the campaign rhetoric. And what “change” have we seen so far? The administration is about this far from nationalizing the automotive industry and almost complete on nationalizing the banks. A new Secretary of the Treasury has been approved by Congress despite admitting to cheating on his taxes. Our new President has told North Korea not to do it again (launch a missile) or else we’ll have to talk about it some more at the United Nations; you can just feel the anxiety in North Korea over that threat. And he has told the world, including our enemies the Taliban, that we’re pulling out of Iraq, which gives them a time-line for preparing to take over the country.
I can hardly wait to see what shape this administration is going to leave for our children and grandchildren to pay for.

Ginger

Today is Ginger's 13th birthday. Her hind legs don't work too well anymore, so we carry her around. She does use her dog door herself during the night, if she needs to go out to potty. She has been on Prednisone and Tramidol because of her arthritis. Her front paws are deformed from the arthritis, but she is able to pull herself along, and she now gives us verbal signals when she wants to go somewhere else in the apartment, and when she's hungry. She lives from meal to meal and snack to snack. We have a mobile carrier when we need to take her to the Veternarian and she rides in it like a queen. She had her annual checkup last week and passed with flying colors, except for the arthritis. Good heart, strong mind. A loving and loyal companion.

Clean as a Whistle

Well, I drank the 17 gallons of Trilyte, went through a case and a half of toilet paper (unscented), ran a life test of the flush mechanism of our toilet and now have as clean and shiny an intestine as a chrome plated grill on a chauffer driven Rolls Royce. All in preparation for a colonoscopy this morning. When the technition gave me the "gown" to put on, I told her about a comedian I had heard describing it as an apron. After the "procedure", the Doctor said all was well - just 2 small polyps and some minor diverticulitis, typical at my age. So I don't need to return for another 3 years. Yipee! It's not that the "procedure" is painful (I'm totally unconscious), but the thought of having to drink all that liquid turns my stomach (and other parts of my anatomy). But don't let me deter you; if you haven't had one by age 50, talk with your Doctor.

It Wasn't The Pollen

The mini-trampoline and the Aloe Vera juice arrived yesterday, so Grandma and I are on the road to better minds and bodies. We tried out both during our visit to son, Mark, and his fiancee, Karen, last month. We spent a few days with them and their families, seeing the sights around Melbourne and Cape Canaveral, before driving to Tampa to visit our great-grandson, Chase, and his parents. When we arrived in Tampa, we were sneezing and sniffling, which we thought was caused by the pollen being blow around. Subsequently, we found we both had the flu, probably caught from the sneezing and coughing passengers on our flight to Florida. Then we did our share of coughing (but not sneezing!) on the flight back home. We spent the first week back home in our apartment, ordering our main meal by room service. We still haven't regained our full energy, but know it will happen soon. We think that trip will be our last by airplane for quite a few years to come.

A Good Day, Sorta

Today, Grandma and I celebrated our 31st anniversary by having lunch at Macaroni Grill. A glass of Riesling and an Italian feast - what could be better! Then off to the movies to see "Frost/Nixon", a movie by Ron Howard of Opie fame. You do remember Opie and the Andy Griffith Show, don't you? We arrived home to find Ginger at her usual place by the front door. This morning, she had an upset stomach and we weren't sure we would be able to go anywhere, but she recovered quickly. And I had a large envelope from the Green Free Library in Wellsboro, PA with newspaper articles about an Aunt and Uncle who were buried there and about other members of their families. I haven't had a chance to digest it all, but I'm sure it will help fill in some blanks in my family history (www.Ancestry.com, then look for the "Miller/Mann/Goebel/Steinmetz" family tree).

The "Sorta" part of the good day is really sad for me because I finished the last pages of Rick Watson's book "Remembering Big" and won't have another of his to read until he writes it and gets it published. (Hurry, Rick!) It's a great book and it brought back lots of pleasant memories from my past lives. I highly recommend it.

A Man's World - UPDATE

Leona Helmsley went to prison for failing to pay back taxes. Tom Daschle gets a Cabinet post for failing to pay his. Who says it's not a man's world?

UPDATE: Earlier today, Daschle withdrew his name from consideration. What a patriot! But will he volunteer for a room in federal prison? Stay tuned.

Art Workshop Update

Thursday, about 7 people showed up, so I gave a short demonstration. Some were already working on a painting before I finished. That's good; they were familiar with watercolors. The Activities Coordinator tried to talk me into taking responsibility for the group, but I refused. I only want to paint. I did offer to share my knowledge with people, if they ask, but I won't act as their teacher. I was able to finish a painting of some penguins that I've been working on for 4 or 5 weeks. Here it is.

Our New Art Workshop

Thursday was the first session of our new art workshop group. There were about 14 people there, all of whom had painted in years past, most in oils. Because Westminster Village doesn't allow the use of the chemicals needed, oil painting is not allowed, so most of the attendees agreed to try painting with watercolors. Janet, one of the Activities Coordinators, and I tried to give some basic information about the medium, and I was talked into giving a demonstration next week. I've prepared a fairly simple drawing of Poinsettia, one that I used for a Christmas card design in years past. I plan to have one finished painting to display, and then go step by step to demonstrate how easy it is to use watercolors. We'll see how it goes. Wish me luck!

Happy New Year

Grandma and I wish one and all a happy, healthy and prosperous new year.

And congratulations to Rick Watson for downing that anchovy. (See link to Life 101 at the right.)

States Shapes

Why is your state shaped that way?
Did the various English kings have much to do with it?
What about Congress? How much did they get into the detail of your state borders?
Why is there only one spot where four states meet?
Why is there a jog in the border between Massachusetts and Connecticut?
Why is Idaho that shape?
Read all about it in "How the States Got Their Shapes" by Mark Stein.
Verrrrrry interesting!

Golden Age Gardens

I ran across a blog about flowers and gardens that I like, so I added it to the list of links. Check it out and see what you think of it.

Glass by Chihuly in Phoenix

On Friday, Grandma and I went to the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix with the group from WMVAZ. Dale Chihuly has an exhibition of glass in the Garden that is absolutely beautiful. Here are a few photos from the trip.

A Couple of Good Books

If you are interested in world history, I highly recommend "Guns, Germs and Steel" by Jared Diamond and "1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus" by Charles G. Mann.

Christmas Trees

Yesterday was decorate-the-trees day here at Westminster Village. There were quite a few residents helping get the ornaments ready for hanging. The large tree in the reception area had been installed, so it needed decoration, while the small tree in Nuernburg Hall needed assembly as well as decoration. The end result of all our efforts came out quite well, don't you think?

Care to Live in Scottsdale, Arizona?

If you're interested in a nice 2 bedroom, 2 bath patio home in a quiet community, I have just the place. It has just under 1600 sq. ft., with 2 master suites, laundry room, formal dining room, breakfast area, laundry room and pantry. Patio is tiled. The community includes a pool, spa and tennis court. And the front yard maintenance is taken care of. Grandma and I have moved out, so it is ready for the right person to move in. Think about it! No snow to shovel, blue skies, little rain. What more could you want?


If you're interested, let me know and I'll pass on your information to our realtor.

A Storm To Remember

"The storm king..., with a loud, ear-piercing crash of thunder, and a hissing flash of white lightning, gave the signal to the elements to begin the attack. We cowered helplessly under the shock, sensible that human strength was insignificant in comparison with the power of the blast which roared and yelled and shrieked about us.
"For hours the rain poured down - either as heavy drops which stung by their momentum; as little pellets which drizzled through canvas and blankets, chilling our blood as they soaked into clothing; or alternating with hail which in great, globular crystals, crackled against the miserable shelter, whitened the ground, and froze the air. The reverberation of the thunder was incessant; one shock has barely begun to echo around the sky, when peal after peal, each stronger, louder, and more terrifying than its predecessors, blotted from our minds the sounds and flashes which had awakened our first astonishment, and made us forget in new frights our old alarms. The lightning darted from zenith to horizon, appeared in all quarters, played around all objects. In its glare the smallest bushes, stones, and shrubs stood out as plainly as under the noon sun of a bright summer's day; when it subsided, our spirits were oppressed with the weight of darkness. No stringing together of words can complete a description of what we saw, suffered, and feared during that awful tempest. The stoutest hearts, the oldest soldiers, quailed."

This was written in 1891 by John G. Bourke in his book "On the Border with Crook" about a storm a group of soldiers encountered near the Yellowstone River. I highly recommend the book to anyone interested in the history of General Crook's campaign to bring the western tribes onto reservations peacefully.

Over, At Last

After sixty trillion days of campaigning, or so it seems, it's finally over. Except for the dissection by the media, that is. I don't know how you feel about the campaign and the results, but I sure am happy that I won't need to listen to all the rhetoric, most of which was negative. To think of all the money spent by all the candidates boggles the mind. Why can't we be civilized and limit the campaigning to about six weeks? Maybe even less. Give the candidates four weeks to present their positions, then give the voters two weeks to ask questions and decide who to vote for, then let 'em vote. Would save a whole bunch of money that could be put to better use. Why not?

Charles Albert Barnhart

We were in Rochester for the second time this month to lay Grandma’s brother, Charles, to rest. He suffered from Parkinson’s disease, was hospitalized for pneumonia, then his heart gave out. He was 81. He died on the 23rd. We were at the funeral home for the private service, then went to the cemetery for the service there. His wife and two sons were devastated by his death, as they were a very close family. I liked Charlie. He had a great sense of humor. Every once in a while, I’d call him an old fogey, and he’d say that was the pot calling the kettle black. I always had to agree, since I’ve had my old fogeyish moments. He called his sister “Brat”, and she came right back with “Rat”; they talked every Sunday. Toward the end, he was losing his hearing, so Grandma would have to shout into the phone. When they were done, she would tell me about the conversation and I’d have to remind her to stop shouting. We’ll miss him.

A Promise To Keep

Grandma and I are about recovered from our trip to Rochester, NY for the funeral of Uncle Henry. While at the Memorial Service, I stopped to talk with a cousin, Clarence Carman, Jr. and his wife, Ana. We talked about our great grandmother, Wilhelmina Steinmetz Spies Plock (nee Kell), and the circumstances of the death of her first husband, Wilhelm Steinmetz. Clarence had a theory, from something he heard as a child, that Wilhelm had been murdered by a soldier who was in love with Wilhelmina and wanted her for himself. Somehow or other, the soldier was killed, resulting in Wilhelmina having to quickly leave Germany with her three daughters. Clarence and I had had this conversation before, and last Saturday I promised to do everything I could to find out the truth, and then let him know. Unfortunately, Clarence died on Monday, the 13th. I'm sure he has since learned the truth of the matter, but so far has not been able to reveal it to me. I'll keep on researching the question, though, because I had made a promise.

Unc

Of all my uncles, I favored Bill Miller and Henry Goebel. As a young boy, I wanted to be named Bill, and I also wanted to be as tall (over 6’) as Henry, “Unc” to my brother and me. Occasionally, when I worked at Xerox Corporation, someone would mix me up by calling me “Bill”, but I never attained the height of Unc; close, but I stopped at 5’10”.

Unc was the fourth child of German immigrants, only two of whom lived to adulthood. In his youth, he built model airplanes powered by rubber bands and entered them in contests. One contest in Cleveland, Ohio resulted in second prize - a check which was signed by Orville Wright; he never cashed the check because he felt the signature to be worth more than the money. He told me the story about winning second prize. It seems that his airplane flew a long time and finally flew out of sight. The judges held a quick conference and decided that they should try to keep the planes in sight, so they followed the next planes, resulting in someone else winning first prize.

He and a friend built the first glider in the area in his parent‘s attic, and took it to a local park where they flew in it. The part I enjoyed hearing about is how they had to remove a double window and frame in order to get the glider out so they could assemble it.

He was the Secretary of the Left Handed Golfers Association, now defunct. In the 40s, I remember him using the stationery for correspondence. He won tournaments around the area, and I had the pleasure of caddying for him occasionally when he belonged to Brook Lea Country Club. Between the 9th and 10th holes, we stopped at an ice cream store adjacent to the course for refreshments. He had the honor of golfing with the great Walter Hagen, but never boasted about beating him. His nickname in his prime was “Hammerin’ Hank”, and, in his later years when I called him that, he laughed and said “Not any more”; but it brought back pleasant memories.

He was a sports nut and enjoyed relating the story of his honeymoon when he found there was a golf tournament in the area. He checked with the tournament director and found there was an opening, so he signed up and spent the weekend golfing. I don’t remember whether or not he won anything. He did have a nice collection of prizes and trophies that he accumulated over the years. As an amateur, he wasn’t allowed to accept any large monetary awards.

At his funeral and memorial service last Saturday, we heard many wonderful comments about his life. The positive effect he had on others will stay with us for years to come, and will echo through the generations of his descendants.

DNA Test

Ancestry.com had an offer last month for half price to have one's DNA tested, so Grandma and I signed up. We received the swab kit last week, swabbed three times, and returned the swabs in the enclosed envelope. Now to wait for the results. Will I find I'm related to Cain or Abel? Time will tell.

Ah, Autumn

This morning, Grandma and I had a bunch of things to do. We stopped at Home Depot to buy Geraniums, then went to the house to pull out the Vinca, which was beginning to die out, and replace them with the Geraniums. On to gas up the Escape ($3.339/gal.). We noticed that a local drug store was offering flu shots, so we stopped in and got suitably punctured and bandaged. Then off to the library to pick up a book that Grandma had ordered. Back to Westminster Village and the bank here for Grandma to make a deposit and to straighten out our address in their records. All before 10 a.m. Now to relax before meeting with some neighbors for dinner tonight.

The forecast is for the 100 degree days to become a not-so-fond memory, with temperatures dipping into the 80's and a storm this weekend. I suppose it won't be long before the air conditioning is turned off and the heat goes on. We are able to have the doors open in the morning and could have a cuppa coffee on the balcony. Hope you're all enjoying the seasonal changes.

Henry Edward Goebel - 1911 - 2008

Henry Edward Goebel - "Unc" to my brother and me - died Thursday, September 25, 2008 in Rochester, New York, well past his 97th birthday. He was the youngest son of Clara Marie Steinmetz and Heinrich Göbel, both German immigrants, and my mother's brother. He was an extraordinary man. If I had to use only four words to describe him, they would be "never a discouraging word". He was my uncle, my friend and my mentor. I caddied for him when he belonged to Brook Lea Country Club, and we golfed together in later years. I'd answer the phone and hear "Hey Rob, want to go hit some shots?"; he knew a couple of par three courses, so we'd take a 9 iron and putter and go try to make par. Or I'd hear "Hey Rob, want to go bowl a few games?", so we'd meet at the lanes on West Henrietta Road. He had a game where low score won; just pick off the 7 and 10 pins each frame for a perfect score of 20. A gutter ball was worth 10. Try it sometime. Or I'd hear "Hey Rob, want to go swimming?", and we'd be in the University of Rochester pool - free because he was an alumni.

I wrote about him in my blog in October 2006.

Every day was a new adventure to him. I'll miss hearing him say, when I call, "I'm vertical", and I know a bright light in our lives is gone. But, ah, such wonderful memories!

Jigsaw Puzzles

Grandma was holding a Scrabble contest with two former neighbors (she won 3 of 4 matches) so I decided to wander around the complex rather than have my tender ears assaulted by the shouted insults hurled by the combatants at each other. The billiard room was occupied so I checked out a sitting area down a side corridor. I found a "reading room" area with a table for working on jigsaw puzzles. There was one in progress, so I decided to give it a try and wound up finishing it off. Which reminded me of the times when my brother and I, in our younger days, would work on puzzles together. Only the "together" meant that we would go just so far before it became a contest to see who could put in the last piece. Our strategy was simple: hide one piece until the end. Well, it's difficult to put in the last piece when we each held one out. That usually led to parental intervention.

Now I have a place of peace and quiet to go to during the Scrabble wars.

The House

It seems as though I've been back to the house every day since we moved out. There was a lot more in the garage cabinets than I realized. There were some items we advertised on Craig's List that sold, and some items that didn't. I donated the 6 display panels I had built for the art sale two years ago, along with a bunch of frames we had no room for, to an art teacher in South Phoenix; they were picked up Thursday. We had taken two car loads to the Goodwill Store in Scottsdale. Today, we might sell the curio cabinet; the potential buyer came over this morning to look at it and will call later to let us know one way or the other. If she declines, we will call Terri's Consignment to check it out along with a decorative pot; they are the only items still in the house. The only items in the garage are some things the new homeowner will be able to use, such as paint, water filters, evaporative cooler replacement parts, furnace filters, etc. While we were there, we replaced the dead flowers in the front entry, and I trimmed some of the shrubs in the side yard. Maybe one more time to check for paint touch-up inside, then we should be done. Now all we need is a buyer.

Labor Day

"If all the cars in the United States were placed end to end, it would probably be Labor Day Weekend." Doug Larson

More Numerical Biography

I have lived at these places, in approximate order:
43d08'55.84"N, 77d35'50.83"W (has since been demolished) 1953;
43d10'22.56"N, 77d37'48.68"W (approximate location) 1954;
43d06'29.98"N, 77d37'58.47"W 1956;
43d00'43.14"N, 77d37'04.06"W (my father built this one) to 1964;
43d03'20.56"N, 77d35'22.83"W to 1977;
43d06'02.30"N, 77d25'41.68"W to 1978;
43d15'07.50"N, 77d16'40.47"W to 1990;
33d23'29.15"N, 111d38'43.02"W (while waiting for the house to be built in Scottsdale).

A New Type of Biography

Rick Watson and I were exchanging GPS coordinates of places we live/lived in, and it got me to thinking. Our whole lives could be described by a series of GPS coordinates of the places we've lived and visited. For example:
I lived here until age 10: 48 degrees 00'07.21"N, 78 degrees 10'32.49"W;
I next lived here: 43 degrees 08'11.17"N, 77 degrees 35'44.79"W;
Next home was: 43 degrees 08'10.86"N, 77 degrees 35'42.61"W;
Next move was to: 43 degrees 08'12.38"N, 77 degrees 35'45.82"W;
School grades 6 & 7 was: 43 degrees 08'12.30"N, 77 degrees 36'01.65"W (The school has been converted into condominiums.);
School grades 8 through 12 was: 43 degrees 08'48.86"N, 77 degrees 35'53.79"W;
First semester college was: 42 degrees 43'55.14"N, 84 degrees 28'55.88"W. (The actual quonset village we were housed in has long ago been demolished.)

Get the picture?

In Between

We're in between houses now. We've paid for our new digs and are trying to get the old house sold. So we're busy carting some belongings to the new spot. In the meantime, I'm in the middle of having a bridge put in my mouth because of a cracked root and infected gum. Will see an oral surgeon Tuesday to have bits and pieces of the root extracted that our dentist couldn't get at. So it's euphoria and pain killers. What a combination!

Today, we take Ginger to introduce her to her new home.

More About the Protest

Here's a photo of Grandma Barnhart with her protest sign. Mr. Cuomo was the Governor of New York at the time we were protesting the superconducting super collider. And another photo of the protest sign I said we were going to salute in a previous post. And we saluted it.

Creepy Crawlers

This morning, I walked into our closet and happened to look up. Ohmygosh! A huge spider was looking down on me. It was about two inches across. Grandma brought a water glass that I used to capture it. And then it went swimming - down the toilet. I have no idea where it came from or how long it had been in the house.

Then as we were getting ready to go out for our walk, there was a HUGE beetle crawling along the garage floor, probably a palo verde beetle. Four inches long! So I swept it into the street and left it to find a more accommodating domicile.

That's enough creepy crawlers to last for the next umpty-ump years.

Tidy Living

Now that our house is on the market, we've been living a very tidy life. Kitchen counters are uncluttered; our desks are so neat, it's hard to find anything; the floors are cleaned every day; outside litter is cleaned up or blown away. It's a new way of living, and Grandma says we should continue it in our new digs.

One of the surprises was to find how much paperwork of various types we had stored in a four drawer file cabinet. We've been sorting it all out - it only took 18 years to accumulate. Some goes with us, some goes to the new homeowner, and some goes in the trash. We have a large shredder and we've been keeping it busy; so far three large trash bags full have gone out the door.

We had a rain storm Thursday night that left a lot of debris in the front yard. I had hoped the landscapers would come through to clean up, but no. So I did pick up as much of the larger stuff as I could handle. The timing was bad because the landscapers are here on Thursday for the weekly clean-up. The yard looked good for any prospective buyers for a few hours.

Now we're on tenterhooks, waiting for the next agent to call and schedule a visit.

Our Protesting Adventure

There was an article in the paper today about the collider in Europe about ready to be turned on, which reminded Grandma and me of the time long, long ago when we joined the protest movement in the town of Ontario, New York. Well, here's how it happened:

Back in the 1970s, our Government decided that we, the people of the United States, and more specifically, the scientists among us, needed a super collider to play around with, so they initiated a contest among all the states to see which state would have the best plan. Never mind that work had already begun in Europe to design and build a super collider, and that our scientists would be able to share in the work there. So the Powers-That-Be in Albany, New York appointed a commission to prepare plans for, not one, but two sites. One site had the southern arc of the huge circular collider running right under Hill Cummorah, the sacred hill where Joseph Smith found the plates that were used to found the Church of Latter Day Saints. Needless to say, the Mormons were not amused, and applied enough pressure on the commission that they moved the giant circle a few miles north, which put the northern arc right under our house. It was to run under the local cemetery, down our street, and under the local Methodist Church, which is on the national register of historic places. When the plans were leaked to the public, a massive protest was undertaken. Grandma and I, along with Grandma's mother, and many neighbors joined in the protest rallies and marches. There was an informational meeting of the residents with the commission members and the Lieutenant Governor, at which we were all allowed to speak for or against the project. I stood and informed everyone present that the work would involve digging up the cemetery where Civil War veterans, and members of Grandma's family among others, were buried. At that, the Lt. Gov. turned to the commission members and asked if that were true; they concurred. As I remember, only one person spoke in favor, and he was roundly booed. Not too long after that we learned that the project had been granted to Texas, and after several millions of dollars were spent on the Texas site, the project was dropped.

Grandma and I have fond memories of our days as civil protesters, when we made banners and placards and marched, chanting "No collider here", through the streets of Wayne County. One former neighbor still has one of the protest signs hanging prominently in their garage. We plan to salute it when we visit them in July.

Oh, My Aching Knees

Today, I have housemaid's knees, having spent a good deal of time yesterday on my hands and knees cleaning the tile and grout in our laundry room. We have a Hoover carpet/floor cleaner, which I used to go over the tile twice, before getting down to attack the grout. My neighbor showed me a special brush for cleaning grout, which works well. It can attach to a handle, so one doesn't need to get down and dirty, but I find that I needed to really scrub hard, so... After the two washes, I ran the cleaner over the floor again using clean water with no soap, before applying grout sealer, on my hands and knees, of course. It was well worth the effort, as the floor virtually gleams today.

What Happened, Jacob?

"What do you mean, there's no more Popsicles left? I was just getting started."

Pomp and Circumstance

Well, so much for Pre-school! Twelve more years and Corbin will be college material. And breaking hearts along the way!

Chase

"I can't believe I ate the whole thing."

Just Fishin'

The other day, Rick Watson, on his "Life 101" blog, told a fish story, and that reminded me of something that happened about 60 years ago in a far away place...

But first, a report on our weather. Last Sunday, we broke a record at 110 degrees, and today we'll top out at about 75, cloudy and rain. And we should be back in the 100s by next Wednesday. Some roller coaster, eh what?

Oh yeah, fishing. Well, I've written previously about Joe Maloney, who I believe is still wanted by Interpol. This is another Joe Maloney story.
South of Rochester, NY is a county park called Mendon Ponds. There are several ponds within the park boundaries, including one with a sand beach. At one time it was possible to rent rowboats there, which we often did in our pursuit of fish - Largemouth Bass, Strawberry Bass and Northern Pike. One day back in the 40s, Joe and I were at the beach area. I don't remember the time of year, but the beach was closed, so it was probably in the spring. Anyway, we were using worms and were casting out into the water to see what might decide to bite, when I heard Joe shouting "Bob. Bob. What do I do now?" I looked over to find Joe at one end of his line and a duck flying in circles at the other end of the line. It seems he decided it would be more fun to fish for ducks, and now he had hooked into a live one. I told him to reel in his line, and we unhooked the duck to everyones relief, especially the duck's and the rest of the flock that was all a-quack. Fortunately, there was nobody else around, particularly the game warden, so we packed up our gear and headed out.

I don't know what the moral of the story is, but I don't remember ever going fishing with Joe again.

Routine?

Last Friday, our canine alarm clock, Ginger, started "talking" to us at her usual time of 5:20 a.m., so we woke up and went through our usual routine: feed Ginger, eat breakfast, have coffee and read the newspaper. Sometime after all that, go for our walk. Monday, however, the routine changed. We still had our early alarm, got Ginger fed, but then we went out for our walk before anything else. Why? Well, it turned out that the temperature was predicted to be in the 100s, so we wanted to get out before it became too warm. Good thing, because a new record was set - 110! And it's predicted to be 105 today. A short taste of the summer then back down in the 90s tomorrow and maybe even in the 70s on Thursday. I'm not ready for the summer heat yet!

Chase

The only thing I could think of was Chase asking "Is it soup yet?"

Sam's Two Birthdays

Our good friend, Sam, celebrated his 70th birthday this month. He was a New York State Trouper, and has many funny stories to tell about his adventures there. He and his wife, Joy, moved to Arizona and enjoyed the good life until his heart began to fail. He was added to the heart replacement list, and was sent to Tucson where he received a slightly used heart in February 1991. Since then, he has been taking his many medications regularly, and has passed all the tests given to heart transplant patients. He lives on the other side of the Valley, so we don't see him and Joy as often as we'd like. So here's to Sam's 70th May birthday, and we're happy to see him celebrate his 17th birthday in February as well. We wish him many, many more of both!

Fifth of May?

Well, it's that time of year again when normally patriotic Americans go all out to celebrate a small battle fought in Mexico in the 1800s in which some Mexican soldiers beat some French soldiers before losing the war. Yes, it's Cinco de Mayo time. As it was explained to me yesterday in Watercolor Class, who cares that it's a Mexican celebration, it's a good excuse for going out and consuming copious quantities of marguaritas and burritos. I think I'll pass. I'm waiting for November 5th (Guy Fawkes Day) so I can fill up on English stout and Steak and Kidney Pie. Or maybe October 3rd (Unification Day) for some Liebfraumilch und Sauerbraten. We'll see.

Odds 'n Ends

We had a problem with flies in our vanity area. In the morning, there were 6 or 7 hanging around the skylight, which I disposed of via Hoover's cleaner. The next day, more of the same. So up on the roof I went to check the skylight. Surprise! It wasn't attached to the roof! I could lift it right off. Fortunately, Home Depot is right around the corner, so I drove over and bought a replacement unit. All OK except the replacement let in more light and was energy efficient. That's when Grandma decided we should replace the other 3 skylights. Now we have light, no flies and are more energy efficient. Turns out the others weren't fastened down very well either.

This political campaign season, unfortunately, is as devisive and uncivil as past campaigns. It would be nice if the candidates attacked the issues and not the people running against them. What many voters have lost sight of is that there will be change regardless of which candidate or which party wins. The large question is: Will the change you propose be for the better or will your change make things worse?

And don't forget that it is Congress that controls how our taxes are spent. If you don't like what happens to your money, go after your Congressmen/women. The President suggests and Congress spends.

Our neighbors are getting ready to leave this beautiful weather and head back to Omaha. Grandma and I can't even think of getting away from the Valley of the Sun. This is the right time of year to be using our evaporative cooler instead of the air conditioner. Unfortunately, it needs some work to repair or replace the water pan, which is all corroded. So the agenda for this week includes visiting a few shops to find what alternatives are available (low cost, we hope!).

I read an article recently that said the origin of the Olympics torch ceremony started in Germany under the Nazi regime. With all the problems with protests along the route it might be time to end another reminder of Hitler and his henchmen.

More Computer Stuff

I don't know what kinds of problems you've had in setting up a new computer, but I've had a bunch over the past few days. I already wrote about the iTunes problem. Well, since then,I've experienced a strange phenomenon: the PC would suddenly shut down, then start up, then shut down, repeating the cycle every few seconds, until I turned off the main power. When I turned on the power an hour or so later, it started up normally, then about 5 minutes later, it started the on - off cycle again. Not knowing anything better to do, I restored the system to Day One. That meant re-installing all my programs, and re-copying files from my external hard drive. This time I kept a log listing each step of progress. And I've been selective in copying files. So far, so good.

The problem with the duplicate iTunes music was overcome as follows:
I went into the external hard drive and deleted the complete music file. Then I copied the music file from my laptop into the ext. hard drive, then copied it into the new PC. Problem solved! It turned out that the ext. hard drive had been storing earlier versions of the music file, including some duplicate items.

It seems as though I almost know what I'm doing.

New Computer

Last Saturday, we bought a new HP desktop PC with Windows Vista Home Premium already installed, so I started to set it up on Sunday. But first I copied all my document files from the laptop to an external hard drive; it took over an hour just to copy all my music in the iTunes folder. Loading software went OK except for the Broderbund Print Shop 20, which is no longer supported by Broderbund. So I dug up version 15 and loaded that with no problems. I managed to get my mail working, but only one of the three addresses, so I need to get Cox involved in that process. (We use Mozilla Thunderbird for mail and Mozilla Firefox for Internet access.) The PC came with Norton security, which I un-installed, because we subscribe to McAfee. The surprise came when I opened my iTunes file and found more music than I had on the laptop computer. Somehow or other, some tunes were duplicated, others were there but with no data other than the name of the tune. And when I tried to delete the duplicates, I couldn't. They're still there. Anyone have any ideas?

An Adventure

The first school trimester at Michigan State College ended in the middle of December (1948), so Bill Cass, one of my 13 roommates, and I decided to hitchhike home. Bill was from Frewsburg, in southwest New York state, and I was from Rochester, so we could travel together to Buffalo before going our separate ways. Because of the cold winter weather, I was wearing a sweater, my ROTC winter coat covered by a top coat, with a scarf wrapped around my neck. As was the custom in those days, neither of us wore a hat.

We started out in East Lansing by riding with a family as far as Port Huron. Our good fortune continued as we were picked up by a trucker who took us to Hamilton, Ontario. It was early evening when he let us off. Shortly thereafter, we were picked up by a hockey player who was going as far as Buffalo. Bill hopped into the front seat and I settled into the back seat and promptly fell asleep, expecting to be awakened in Buffalo. Imagine my surprise when I woke up to a pleasant female voice telling me to wake up for breakfast. More surprise when I opened my eyes to find it was a nurse in the St. Catherine‘s Hospital. And I with my right arm taped to my chest. Bill was in an adjacent bed.

The story, as I found out later, was that the car skidded on some ice and slid into a steel light post, hitting about where my knees were. The ambulance crew thought at first that I was dead because of all the blood - caused by numerous cuts from window glass when my head hit. I suffered a broken collar bone; more severe injury was avoided probably because of all the padding I was wearing. I was asleep, then probably knocked unconscious by the blow, then sound asleep again in the hospital bed. I did have the sensation that I saw the lamp post coming at us, but it’s a very vague impression. The driver had a bump on his forehead and Bill had gravel in his hands as the result of being thrown out of the car when the door was flung open from the momentum.

My parents were notified and came to bring me home, where I went to visit the doctor for further treatment. He checked the x-rays, noting that the bones had shattered at the break, then left the room. I heard the sound from the basement of someone sawing wood, wondering what remodeling he was having done, when he walked back into the room carrying a piece of plywood. He had sawed it into the shape of a T and taped it to both shoulders and across my stomach. “There,” he said, “that should hold it while the bones knit.”

I wore the brace for a bunch of months, including a train trip back to East Lansing to turn in my ROTC uniform and pack up my clothes. Believe me, it’s not very comfortable to wander through life with a piece of plywood taped to one’s back. It eventually came off, and the break did knit, but to this day there’s a bump at the break.

Niemi

One of the shots on my home movies is of an engineer who I was working with at Haloid Xerox/Xerox Corporation in 1959 and 60. His name is Onni Niemi and the scene includes his wife and two daughters. He was dark complected; one of his co-workers asked him what his origin was and he said he was a Blackfoot Indian, at which he was asked to take off his shoe and sock and prove it. Well, he didn't, but he did admit to me that he was of Finnish extraction, and was embarrassed by his country's actions supporting the Nazis during World War II.

The reason this comes to mind is the recent news about Patrick Swayze and his fight with cancer. Mr. Swayze is married to a lovely woman named Lisa Niemi. I have often wondered whether or not she is related to Onni and if she might be one of the girls in my movie.

Love And Marriage

When I was in grammar school, there was a taunt that was used whenever a guy was caught talking to a girl: "First comes love, than comes marriage, then comes Robert with a baby carriage."

In my day, we understood the proper sequence. Anything other than that would result in an illegitimate child, that is, a bastard, or one born "out of wedlock”, which brought shame to the family. Usually, the parents would try to find a place out of town where the child could be born, to be adopted out, thereby avoiding the stigma of a bastard child in the family. Or an abortion could be arranged, again out of town. The girl would attempt to resume a normal life, despite the fact that practically everyone knew of her “predicament”, especially her classmates; after all, guys did like to brag about their conquests.

Somewhere down the line, things got turned around and now it appears that it's just fine and dandy if baby comes before either love or marriage. Of course, problems come right along with that change. In a one-parent house, the child suffers from the lack of two-parent guidance; one of the parents becomes a part-timer, regardless of the good intention to "be there" for her/him. As the child grows up and faces schoolmates, the inevitable questions arise about parents: “Where is your father/mother?”; “Why don’t you have a father/mother?”; “Why doesn’t your father/mother live with you?”; etc. Children can be cruel.

Lunar Eclipse

Last night was the night of the lunar eclipse and people hereabouts were frustrated to find clouds obscuring the eclipse. Instead, we had a good old fashioned desert thunderstorm roll through the valley. Lightning was flashing, thunder bouncing off the walls and a good downpour to wash the dirt away. Grandma was at a neighbor's house playing Scrabble and called to have me come pick her up because of the storm. (She won 2 out of 3.) It was well after 11:30 before the storm subsided. More on the way tonight, but we're not planning to go anywhere.

Friday, 10 February, 1978

It was cold and snow on the ground when Grandma and Granpappy said their vows in front of family. Daughter Gail was maid of honor and son Mark was best man. Daughter Chris had just had a son Jacob on Monday so wasn't able to attend. So on that date 30 years ago, Grandma became a wife, mother and grandmother all in one fell swoop. Grandma's parents and her brother and family were there to witness the blessed event. An article appeared in the Webster paper a while later relating an incident that happened during the ceremony: son Jamie was manager of an apartment complex at the time and half way through the ceremony his beeper went off and he had to get to the phone to answer the call.

And who knew when we went back to Bailey Road for wedding cake that 30 years later we would be living in Scottsdale and celebrating at Ruth's Chris Steak House. It doesn't get any better than that!

Taxing Our Brains

Grandma and I spent the better part of Saturday working on our taxes. This year, Grandma had everything all listed with supporting documents to make the job easier. Why did it take so, you may ask. It turns out that we were using last years Turbo Tax program and didn't realize it until we were about half way through the forms, having input a lot of information. When we discovered the problem, it took a while to find where I had hidden the new software and to get it installed. (We call that a "senior moment" around here.) Some information was copied automatically, but we had to go back to square one to enter our financial information. So now we're done and the reports have been printed, ready for checks to be written and returns to be mailed.

Gloomy Sunday

We're having what us former New Yorkers call a "Rochester Day" - gray skies and rain. The forecast is for up to 1 inch of rain, which means our law enforcement people will be applying the "stupid motorist's law", enacted to punish those motorists who think they can drive through flooded washes, but get washed downstream.

Because of the topography of the area, with mountains ringing the valley, rain water flows down to the Salt River through gullies, called washes. At times, the water flows at 20, 30 or ever 40 miles per hour. Over time, some of these gullies have been paved as roads to new developments crossed them. During the storms, some roads have been partially washed away; in others, the water may reach as high as 3 or 4 feet deep. But these stupid drivers "know" that their vehicle, whether SUV, pick-up truck or BMW, can get through, so on they go. Unfortunately, they wind up as a feature on the evening news when the emergency squad has to rescue them from the raging waters. So the legislators decided that enough money was being spent for the rescues that the rest of us shouldn't have to pay the bill, and enacted the law. Now the motorists pay the cost of their rescue. Does it stop them? Stay tuned to the local news tonight. (Answer: no.)

Norm, the Barber

We used to go to Frank's Barber Shop on Clinton Avenue just around the corner from Bly Street for our haircuts. Our Mother would give us the money for the haircut ( I think it cost 75 cents) plus 25 cents for the tip. Then Frank, who was near or at retirement age, started to have coughing spells and his hands would shake enough that he would pull hair. So we started going down Clinton Avenue near Caroline Street to Norm's shop. Usually we went on Saturday which was a treat because Norm, being Italian, had the radio tuned to the Metropolitan Opera broadcasts. And, being Italian, Norm knew every aria by heart, so he would break out in song whenever the mood struck him, which was about every aria. Not bad - a haircut and entertainment all for one small price.
I stayed with Norm all through high school and college, but then moved away. I understand his son now runs the shop, but I don't know about the singing. Does the Metropolitan Opera still broadcast on Saturdays?

Misinformation

There have been a bunch of emails flying around the Internet that contain misleading information. You've probably received one or more. They start out by stating that the information is true because the originator has checked it out on Snopes.com. One recent one attributed a lengthy article to General Hawley, when it was written by someone else. Another listed several claims about the background of Barak Obama, which were false. The implication is that the recipients should believe the message. Well, it turns out that some of these "truthful" messages are absolutely false. When I find that, I reply to the person who sent it to me plus everyone copied on their email, stating that the information has been disclaimed

I've tried to get into the habit of checking such messages out on Snopes myself, and I urge you all to do the same.

Uninvited Visitors

December in Scottsdale is usually the coldest month of the year. This year was no exception, in fact, it seemed colder than any of the past 17 years we have lived here. One uninvited visitor was old Jack Frost who came barging in one night and stayed for ten. We tried covering up our sensitive plants and shrubs to no avail. He proceeded to wipe his frosty hands all over Grandma’s basil plants and our Arizona Yellow Bells, among others. He has since left us, thank goodness, but with no guarantee that he won’t return any time soon.

The other visitor, that none of us welcomes, was a flu/cold/sinus bug that hit me just after Christmas. I tried to dislodge the bug with Daquill, Claritin, Nyquill and Theraflu, but the best results came from a good old-fashioned salt water gargle that Grandma recommended. I’m still hoarse, but am now over the hump and on the down side of getting well. If you ever get the bug, heed Grandma’s call and use a salt water gargle! We had planned to go to a German restaurant New Year’s Eve, but had to cancel out. I was looking forward to some Sauerbraten und Rotkohl, washed down with a good Pilsener. Oh well, that’s a good resolution for 2008.

Storms

As he quite often does, Rick Watson (Life 101) hit a memory button when he wrote about getting bread and milk in advance of a storm. The memory goes like this:

It was a big storm that had blanketed western New York and left our street covered in several feet of snow. The neighbors banded together and had potluck meals made from whatever stock was available. After a few days of no plows in sight, my wife and I decided to take a toboggan and hike a couple of miles to the nearest grocery store to see what staples we could find, as our family of nine was running out. A neighbor across the street asked us to pick up some milk for their new baby. When we reached the store, we found that most of the staples and just about everything else had been cleared out. We went to the dairy section and asked a clerk if there was any more milk to be had since neighbors needed some for their baby; the clerk said he would check in back for us. There was a couple standing nearby with a cart full of milk, who volunteered to give us some of theirs because “we don’t need it all”, but I refused with the reply that they certainly must need it or else they wouldn’t have taken it all. When the clerk returned with two quarts, we thanked him and went on our way. I don’t remember whether or not the couple kept all the milk. I certainly hope they put some back for the next person.

It took a few more days before the street was plowed and life returned to normal, but I never forgot the panic that set in on otherwise sane people when they thought they might starve to death before the next shipment of groceries would arrive.

Where Or When?

The song “Where Or When” was written by Richard Rodgers & Lorenz Hart for the musical “Babes In Arms” which debuted in 1937. I just recently listened to it and found that it could be classified as the theme song for the Alzheimer’s Institute. It certainly does help understand what an Alzheimer patient goes through, although the composers certainly didn’t intend it that way. These are the lyrics:

“When you’re awake, the things you think
Come from the dreams you dream.
Thought has wings, and lots of things
Are seldom what they seem.
Sometimes you think you’ve lived before
All that you live today.
Things you do come back to you
As though they knew the way;
Oh, the tricks your mind can play.

“It seems we stood and talked like this before.
We looked at each other in the same way then,
But I can’t remember where or when.
The clothes you’re wearing are the clothes you wore,
The smile you’re smiling you were smiling then,
But I can’t remember where or when.

“Some things that happened for the first time
Seem to be happening again,
And so it seems that we have met before
And laughed before, and loved before,
But who knows where or when.”


What do you think?

The Clinton Theater

When we moved to Rochester, there was a movie theater about five blocks away - the Clinton Theater. The normal program included a newsreel, two movies, one of which was a “B” movie, an episode of an adventure serial, and coming attractions. Friday nights were when most of the kids in the neighborhood would be there because there was usually a western, where the good guys wore white and the bad guys wore black. We all knew to BOO the bad guys.

The admission was about a dime, but one could earn a bunch of passes by delivering a monthly program to houses around the area. I “signed up” for that one time and was autoed to a suburb and dropped off, where all the houses were served by mailboxes at the curb. Not being familiar with rural mail delivery, the other fellow and I decided that we needed to raise the little red flag on the side of the box to let the homeowners know that there was something in the box for them. After we had finished our round, we were picked up by the theater owner, who handed us our passes. On the way back home, we told him we had made sure to raise the red flags. Well, he told us that we shouldn’t have done that; the red flag is a signal to the mailman to stop and pick up mail from the box. It was too much to go back and lower all those red flags. I imagine the mailman was a little perturbed to have to stop at every mailbox, when not all of them had mail to be picked up.

I don’t remember ever again being asked to deliver the monthly programs.

Fearless Mice

According to today's Guardian (www.guardian.co.uk), scientists have genetically modified a mouse to be unafraid of cats. Maybe they'll be able to genetically modify jihadists to be unafraid of the rest of civilization.

Smoke Rings

Congratulations to daughter-in-law, Sharon, for quitting smoking. She has tried a new prescription drug and it is working. Read all about it at her blog "Mimi's Blog" through the link on the right.

My own "adventure" with smoking started in 1949 in Stillwater, Oklahoma. My college roommate, Nelson, was a smoker. One day I asked him to teach me how to smoke, so he gave me a cigarette and I lit up. My first attempt was to suck in some smoke, then try to swallow it. Ugh! Don't try that at home! But after a few more drags I was off and running. I was 18 at the time, and trying to be cool. I was 36 when I quit, so I had smoked half my life. I tell people that it took me a day to start and 18 years to quit.

At one point in my quitting trials, I started smoking cheroots, until I found I had both a cigarette and a cheroot lit in my ash tray. Another time, I tried a pipe, because my Doctor said it was almost impossible to keep them lit. He was right; I gave them up because of the frustration level it built up. I had quit once for a 3-month period. The problem was that I hadn't convinced myself that I was ready to give up smoking completely. It took a few months of debate before I finally won the argument with myself. From that point on, no more cigarettes.

If you're thinking of quitting, talk to your family Doctor about the new prescription drug. My son, Jamie, has started on it now, and I pray that it will work for him. (I'm also praying that Gail and David will try it.)

Joe Maloney

We lived next door to the Maloney family, Joe, Jim and their parents. In the 1940s, we played together; he was four years younger than me. One time, Joe’s mother bought him an archery set with blunt-tipped arrows. Joe was excited and went into the back yard and shot an arrow straight up; it came down and hit his brother in the top of the head. No real damage done, but that was the end of archery at the Maloneys.

Joe’s father worked as a night guard for the Rochester Psychiatric Hospital (the Insane Asylum, in days of yore), and Joe was used to going there and wandering around the complex. One day, Joe “borrowed” his father’s revolver and headed to the Pinnacle hill area, a wooded, hilly unpopulated tract on the southern edge of Rochester, where he wound up shooting himself in the hand and falling down a cliff. The firemen were called, by whom I don’t know, and rescued Joe. That was the end of “borrowing” his father’s revolver.

Joe worked at many jobs, including handling dynamite, or at least he boasted of it. He had been to Ireland to visit relatives and had kissed the Blarney Stone, so it was difficult to determine fact from fiction. I did find him at work at Haloid Xerox in a paint spray booth in the early 1960s. At one time he told me that he had had his colon removed and offered to show me his colostomy bag, but I declined.

He and I double-dated at one point, he with his fiancee, June, and I with a cousin of his from Ireland. Joe stood a little over six feet and June was about five feet four. They always seemed to get along well when we were together, however there was another side to Joe that I never saw. To read about that, go to http://www.dun-laoghaire.com/michael_maloney.html for the rest of the story.

An Unpleasant Visit

I've been in a morgue only once, and that was more than I had ever thought would happen.

Gerald was the youngest of six children, about 5' 9'' tall, blue eyes. He had married, had children and then was divorced when his alcoholism got in the way of his life. He told me that he had never suffered a hangover no matter how much or how long he drank. He would run out the drunk then check into the hospital to dry out. In between bouts, he hung around those of us who did drink, but said he didn't mind. The last time he went in to dry out he was told that his system couldn't handle the strain of another treatment.
His sister had divorced my brother and moved into a house in Rochester with her children; Gerald would stay there off and on. When she moved to the suburbs, he stayed on at the house and started drinking again.
My brother and his son went to the house one day to check on Gerald and found him sitting in a chair in the basement with a shotgun to his chest - dead. The police were called and it was ruled a suicide. The kitchen cupboards were filled with almost empty whiskey bottles. Someone had told Gerald that one could always tell an alcoholic because they drained every bottle; we think he always left a little in the bottle so he wouldn't be so labeled.
The police wanted positive identification, but his sister didn't want to go, so my brother and I went. Fred wouldn't go look at the body so it fell to me. It was Gerald.
I hope I never have to visit another morgue.

Thanksgiving Day 2007

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Today is the day my family celebrates a day that our ancestor, Miles Standish, participated in back in the 1620s. We are thankful to him for being part of the first Thanksgiving celebration, which has since become a truly American tradition. God bless you all and God bless the United States of America.

"Chinese Fire Drill"

Two daughters joined the Henrietta Hi-Lites, an all-female color guard that marched in parades around the county and participated in contests in New York and Canada. Chris was a flag, that is, she carried one of the large banners and had to go through some maneuvers while on the march. Gail was a rifle, so she carried a wooden rifle and had to perform a bunch of manual-of-arms exercises while marching. They weren’t members at the same time; Chris joined first, then when she retired, Gail joined. If I remember correctly, there were some rifle marks in the family room ceiling from over zealous practices.

The manager was Jim Fleming, who was assisted by his daughter Kathy. Parents were asked to help with transportation for distant performances, so I volunteered. We had a nine-passenger Ford station wagon, so I could load up the car with Hi-Lites.

One trip took us to Toronto, Canada, where they were entered in a competition, so lucky me got to be chauffeur, along with Jim and another parent. Jim led the way with me next in our caravan. Unfortunately, Jim made it through a traffic light, turning right, but we didn’t. By the time the light changed and I turned, there were very dim taillights way up ahead, so I sped to catch up. Well, that wasn’t Jim. We pulled into a gas station to get directions, but the fellow there couldn’t find the hotel or the street on his map. So we turned around and retraced our steps, finally seeing the lights of the hotel up ahead. Well, we drove around and around the hotel, but couldn’t find any way to get there because of the construction, until I drove through a barricaded street and there we were. We did manage to make it to the bar just as last call was announced.

The next morning, we were up bright and early so we could get to the competition hall where we spent the day in total boredom waiting for our turn. I don’t remember winning first place.

On the way back to Henrietta, we were stopped at a traffic light, when someone asked if I could roll down the rear window, which I did. Suddenly, someone shouted “Chinese Fire Drill” and all the doors flew open, Hi-Lites jumped out of the car and rolled out the rear window, then piled back into the car, making sure they were all in different seats. I was stunned and almost forgot to go when the light turned green. From then on, I was prepared for the confusion when anyone made the announcement, but people in nearby cars looked on in shock.

More About Art

In 1949, in my freshman year at Oklahoma Agricultural & Mechanical College, I was rooming with Nelson Cohen, also from Rochester, in a 16 ft. sq. surplus Army hut in Oretoopa Village, a temporary student housing project a healthy walk away from the college campus. The furnishings were sparse - two surplus Army cots with cotton mattresses, a central heater, and two wardrobes and dressers, with a study table for each of us. The outside was covered loosely with tar paper, which didn’t quite keep out the Oklahoma soil from blowing in each and every day. My buddy, Smitty, lived two doors down. One day, when things were a little slow, Smitty and I started drawing caricatures on my desk. When we finished, we had drawn Smitty, Kendig, Nelson and me. Too bad we couldn’t keep the desk.

Racism

Racism is alive and well in the United States. You can thank the media for that. Why? Well, how many times have you read in the paper or heard on the radio or TV the words “Latino”, “Hispanic”, “African-American”, etc.? What kind of an image do those words convey? One nation of “Americans“? Or a multicultural nation of fragmented groups?

Wouldn’t it be better for all of us if the media called us all “Americans” and tried to bring us together, rather than using words that try to keep us divided? I think so. Which would you prefer?

Art

When we lived in Batavia, NY, there was an Indian - Mohawk, I believe - who stayed occasionally at my grandfather’s house. We called him “Chief” but his name was John Hill; he worked as a laborer on construction and traveled from job to job on a bicycle. One day my brother and I were talking with him when he pulled out a pencil and paper and proceeded to draw a picture of a locomotive. I was amazed at his drawing skill as well as his ability to draw from memory. If I remember right, he played a mean harmonica, too.

In the eighth grade in Monroe High School in Rochester, I took Art as an elective subject. There was an annual competition among the schools for best art, called the Scholastic Art Exhibit. The best entries were displayed at the foremost department store in town, Sibley, Lindsay & Carr, Co. I had entered a colored pencil drawing - 8 ½ x 11 - of a section of wallpaper of pigs. Yes, pigs! It won Honorable Mention and went on display for all and sundry to view. I think that’s about the time my parents bought me a set of colored pencils that I carried with me for many years.

Halloween 2007

Boo! Did I scare you?

Grandma and I walked for about 30 minutes this morning before breakfast. We try to get out at least 3 times each week, and do some walking at other times, like cruising the mall. Not really pushing it like we do in the morning, but not coasting either. We both need the exercise, not because of weight loss, but for the cardiovascular system. Do you walk?

This afternoon we are to meet a new - to us - Doctor who will schedule us each for a colonoscopy. I plan to tell him all about my fainting spell in July when I was preping for one with a different Doctor. I don't want to go through that again!

The past two days we have taken Ginger out front for short walks. She likes the grass and will go about two doors down before she looks up at me for pity. That's when I get to carry her home. We keep her weight steady at 28 pounds, which I can manage for a few feet.

Happy Halloween!

The Party's Over

Most people don’t realize it, but the party’s over. It won’t be long before there will be more mosques in Europe than cathedrals, churches and synagogues. Why? Well, look at the demographics, urges Mark Steyn in his book “America Alone”. Between 1970 and 2000, “the developed world declined from just under 30 percent of the global population to just over 20 percent, and the Muslim nations increased from about 15 percent to 20 percent”. The fertility rate in Europe is BELOW the level needed to sustain the population; in America, it’s about right. So our European cousins will be faced with ever increasing numbers of immigrants from Muslim nations to take up the work that the declining local populations will no longer be there to perform. And will they assimilate into the culture of their new “homeland”? Well, look at what happened in Florida when a Muslim woman went to court to keep her face covered on the picture on her driver’s license.
Better start boning up on “The Koran” so you can converse intelligently with your new neighbors. I already have.

Split Rock

Well, after writing about Split Rock, I decided I'd better put up a picture or two so you could see just what it looks like. So here are two, one with son-in-law David, so you get an idea of scale. Big, eh?

A Random Thought For October

I realized early on that I would never make a good ballplayer because I couldn't learn the knack of spitting.

Ginger

Ginger, our Pembroke Welsh Corgi, is feeling a little poorly today. She's on antibiotics and pain pills for the next few days. She visited the Vets yesterday for teeth cleaning. Despite Grandma brushing her teeth every morning, she had to have 11 teeth extracted - 9 incisors and 2 molars. We had not noticed any signs of discomfort, so were quite surprised. She now gets her dry food smashed up and watered down, and her treats smashed. We'll ease up on the smashing after about a week.

Other than that, she acts as normal as can be expected for a 77 year old with arthritis.

Lean-tos

Youngest daughter, Gail, and her husband, David, recently visited a part of the Adirondacks that we camped in many moons ago. It’s called Split Rock, because of a huge rock split down the middle. The rock is usually dry, but is sometimes almost under water during especially heavy rainfall in the area. By hopping rock-to-rock across split rock, we would be able to fish for trout in a large pool in the Deer River.

The Post Card we received had a copy of a lean-to painting from the 1800s, and revived a memory of a trip to a different area in the Adirondacks. The group included Roger Roberts, an Englishman expatriot engineer working at Xerox, my brother Fred, sons Mark and Jamie, and Fred’s son Rick, Jamie‘s friend Mike, and Rick‘s friend also named Mike. We had rented canoes and paddled our way across Raquette Lake to a campsite that consisted of several lean-tos, where we spread our sleeping bags and cooking gear. Along with our food and clothes, we had packed a large supply of worms, which were our preferred bait.

After we set up camp, Roger rigged his fishing rod and headed to the shore. He was an avid fisherman, and had plenty of experience in the lakes and rivers of England. One thing that we didn’t realize about fishing over there is that they chum the water before trying to catch any. When we did wander over to see how he was doing, we found him having a great time catching Sunfish - about 3 or 4 inches long - not big enough to keep for dinner. What was upsetting to us was that he was chumming - throwing handsful of worms into the lake - in order to catch one small fish. Well, we educated him on the spot; the fish were so hungry that only part of a worm was needed to catch those little guys.

We fished a while on Raquette Lake without too much success, so decided to break camp and head to Split Rock. My recollection is that the weather turned dismal on Raquette, so we sought dryer waters at Split Rock. Unfortunately, it was raining at Split Rock, so we decided against setting up camp and drove into St. Regis Falls and camped at the Waverly Inn, a VERY rustic building but with a well-stocked bar. So we dried out on the outside and watered down our insides.

Not too much later, Roger was called back to Rank-Xerox, but sent some pictures of our adventure, including one of the group of us under a tarpaulin during the rainstorm. About ten years after that, I had word that Roger had passed away. But the memory lingers on.

The Grieving

I had never paid much attention to the period after the death and funeral. People died, were buried and life went on. Actually, it was never that cold a process, but it seemed like that from a distance. However, up close and personal, there is a time period needed by the grieving survivors to be able to come to grips with the empty spot in their lives. So it was after the deaths of a niece, my parents, a step-daughter, my in-laws, that I needed that time to grieve. And so it is now that we have lost our beloved Pepper. It has helped to talk about her life and the suddenness of her death with others who have lost one of their beloved. I still tear up, and may for a long time, she was so special to me. I still talk to her and one day I felt her presence in the room. I know she has no more fear, no more aches and pains, and that consoles me.

The Flea Problem At Xerox

Dr. John Dessauer was the Vice President of Research and Engineering at Xerox Corporation in Rochester, New York. One of his requirements, when the new Engineering building in Webster was being designed, is that it have a fire-proof vault for storing all the engineering drawings. He felt that they were the most important product of R & D and were irreplaceable. So the new facility included a drawing storage vault with a carbon dioxide extinguishing system behind a fire-proof, self-closing door.

Unfortunately, there was a problem associated with the vault.

One day in 1960, not too long after we had moved in, Rita W. and Anna G., two of the Reproduction Area’s clerks, came to Bob J., the Chief Draftsman, to complain that they were being bitten by fleas. Yes, fleas in the vault! Bob wasn’t sure about that, so he asked them to show him a flea. And the next day they did - a dead one of course. And so the vault was fumigated and the flea problem was solved for good.

(As a footnote, the extinguishing system never had to be used.)

Music, Music, Music

September seemed to be our month for music. First, we went to see the movie "Hairspray" in which John Travolta plays an oversize mother. My toes were tapping all through the movie. I highly recommend it to everyone.

Next we went to a dinner theater to see "Beehive" that again had my feet moving. We usually go to a matinee performance, and have a table in the first row, so we can see all the facial expressions on the cast members. I highly recommend this show, too.

Third, yesterday we went to Gammage Auditorium to see "Jersey Boys" about Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. The music was great, but the language was mostly gutter talk - too many f and s words for my sensitive ears. It seems that we are being desensitized to such profanity by writers in "the arts". If given a choice, I choose not to wander around in their gutter.