Growing Up

Rick Watson's blog (Life 101) yesterday struck a chord with me. I remember being a thorn in my parents' sides when I was growing up. I had written a poem a few years ago that hints at it, so decided to share it:

Our Triumph
by Robert H. Miller

Sometimes there are
When the moon is low overhead
And stars begin to almost-shine
That I walk paths
Grown over with the brambles
And tangle
Of cob-web clouded thoughts
Down forgotten vignettes
That played themselves out
So many ages ago
Yet flash and flutter
For encore after encore
In the blink of a thought.

It has been a long way coming to Now.

For the first part,
They led us by the hand.
But we wore them out
Keeping us from the waste-land on either side.

Then they were content to watch
And call a warning
When a bramble would catch and tear,
And the hurt became alone.
Guided only by the shrugging shoulders of inexperience,
We bled,
And broke ourselves on boulders
Suddenly thrust up by fate’s fantasy.

Garments rent, bleeding, blistered,
Yet erect we stand
Proudly viewing this, our triumph -
To have made our individual paths
To Now.

What Tomorrows lie in ambush
That we have not stood up to
And beaten down
Today?
Strengthened and encouraged,
We look at moon and stars and Future
And slip on sandals
For the grassy plain ahead.

09 Jan 1963

Happy Birthday, Bert

Happy birthday, Bert. Tante Shirley and I wish you a very merry time with lots of kuchen und bier. (Next time, open your eyes.)

My Accident

While going through the preparations for a colonoscopy earlier this week, I fainted and hit my head on the bathtub. The paramedics were there quickly and took me to the hospital which is less than a mile away. Not too much later a plastic surgeon sewed me up - 12 stitches - and my regular doctor came in to see how I was. He signed me up for the overnight observation ward in case other symptoms showed up. By morning, my forehead was swollen and I had the beginnings of two black eyes. (Actually, they were red and green and blue and yellow and purple.) It won't be until next Monday before some of the stitches will be removed. Until then, I'm limiting my personal appearances.

It turns out that fainting is not uncommon when going through the preparations, but we didn't know that. So my word of warning to anyone planning to have a colonoscopy is to beware of the possibility of fainting. Ask your doctor.

In Olden Times

I started jotting down some things I remember from my youth, like radio shows, comics, early TV shows, etc. The radio list started to get out of hand, so I thought I'd better publish the list before I ran out of paper. Here it is, and you're welcome to add to it:
Lum 'n Abner; Fibber McGee and Molly; Amos 'n Andy; Jack Benny with Mary Livingston, Mel Blanc, Dennis Day and Eddy "Rochester" Anderson; Fred Allen and the Allen's Alley Gang; George Burns and Gracie Allen; Red Skelton; Nat Cole Trio; Hoagy Carmichael; Hank 'n Herb, the Two Old Cronies; Lone Ranger; I Love A Mystery; Green Hornet; Edward McHugh (gospel music); Stella Dallas; Just Plain Bill; Abie's Irish Rose; Our Gal Sunday; One Man's Family; The Shadow; Edgar Bergen; Bob Hope; Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons; Mr. District Attorney; Tales of the New York State Police; Jack Ross and the WHAM News.

We had a floor model Philco radio that picked up WHAM, the 50,000 watt, clear channel station in Rochester, NY. (When I was in college in Stillwater, Oklahoma, we could listen to WHAM from time to time.) I always liked to hear Jack Ross deliver the news; he had a deep baritone voice. He didn't mince words or get into a lot of opinions or analysis, just reported. Once through the news; no telling us what he was going to tell us, then tell us, then tell us what he told us. No ticklers about what was coming up, just straight reporting. To bad they don't teach that in journalism schools today. Just imagine how many words and how much time could be saved with straight out reporting. It boggles the mind!

In Other Words

Anent the high humidity in our house since we turned on the swamp cooler:

"Holy humidity, Batman", exclaimed Robin.

"Leapin' lizards, Sandy, it sure is muggy in here", said Little Orphan Annie to her dog.

"I believe it is rather watery in these parts", said Tom Swift fluidly.

"Everyding is thamp", said Professor Spooner.

And so it goes.

Anyone care to contribute?

Leapin' Lizards, Sandy, It Sure Is Muggy

Friday evening, there was a power outage, and when the power came back on, our air conditioner didn't. By Saturday morning when a repair crew could get here, they discovered one of the control modules was shot. Since they couldn't get repair parts or a new AC unit until Monday, they helped me get the swamp cooler up and running. I hadn't turned it on since about 2000, but it started right up. A while later, I noticed the air was hot and a lot of water was pouring off the roof, so I went up to take a look. Seems that the water pan had corroded and water was leaking out the bottom as fast as it was coming in. So I spent the next 2 or 3 hours trying to get it repaired well enough too hold water at least until Monday. Grandma went to the local Home Depot for me and brought back some roofing cement to plaster on the bottom, but it didn't hold up. The next step was to seal a piece of plastic in the tray, which worked. All of this while working on the roof in the hot sun with a temperature in the 100s. Not something I'd recommend to anyone. So this morning we woke up to 73 degrees in the house and enough humidity to make puddles. But at least we're not baking, and the swamp cooler is still working.

Hot Enough For Ya?

According to my physical, blood work and dental cleaning this week, I'm in great shape, but last night almost did me in. Walt Whitman wrote "Out of the cradle endlessly rocking...", but here it was "Into the inferno endlessly turning" as our air conditioner had quit on us after bringing the temperature UP to 85. We called a repair service and they came right out to get it going, and when the repairman left, all was in working order. HOWEVER, a while after he left (around 8 or 9), the unit stopped bringing in the cold and brought in the warm. So we tossed and turned all night, catching the sandman for a few (darned few) winks. The great part was that the repair company was here before 7 this morning to find the true cause - a bad fan motor. Right now, all is well and the temperature is slowly dropping into the comfortable range. Yesterday, the official temperature was over 110, and today it's forecast to reach within a degree or two of the record of 115. So we count as one of our blessings the repair company - aptly named Cold Blue.

They're Engaged!

Congratulations to Jeanna and Chris on the announcement of their engagement! We'll pack our bags as soon as we know where and when the wedding will be.

Happy Birthday, Unc

Happy birthday, Uncle Henry. 96 and still going strong! Congratulations.

Working, Part 1

DOOR-TO-DOOR SALESMAN

Fred, my brother, took a job in Batavia, NY selling the Saturday Evening Post from door to door. He received about 5 cents for each issue sold. The magazine was published weekly. The profit picture was so enticing I decided to begin my career as a door-to-door salesman also. That was in the winter of 1940-41 when I was 9 years old. There were no child labor laws that could keep me off the streets and away from those 5 cent profits. As I recall, winter set in shortly after the beginning of my career, and the ensuing cold weather and snow put an end to it, quite abruptly. What the labor laws couldn’t do, the weather did.

Working, Part 2

SODA JERK

While attending Monroe High School in Rochester, NY, I found employment at Bowker’s Dairy on South Clinton Avenue, near the corner of Meigs Street. My brother, Fred, also worked there. Bowkers made their own ice cream and sold it in bulk as well as across the counter in an ice cream parlor. That’s where we labored. It was probably the best place I could ever have dreamed of working, especially when the manager told us we could eat as much ice cream as we wanted. He didn’t know our capacity. Some days we would stand by the ice cream machine and eat as fast as it would be poured into dixie cups. Many times we were told to go back out front and wait for customers so they could make dixie cups instead of just feeding us. I still remember how good that ice cream tasted fresh from the mixer.

I worked at the counter first. It is quite a trick to hold four cones and fill them with single or double dips without crushing one or two cones. It’s also quite a trick to keep customers happy when they have to wait their turn and you have to remember who came in ahead of who. After serving my apprenticeship at the cone counter, I was moved to the soda and sundae counter, where I had to learn all the recipes. “A Black and White Sundae is 1 scoop vanilla, 1 scoop chocolate, 1 squeeze chocolate syrup on the vanilla, 1 spoon of marshmallow cream on the chocolate, topped with whipped cream.” “A Cherry Soda is 1 scoop vanilla, 3 squeezes cherry syrup, fill the glass with soda water while stirring with a spoon.” That sort of thing. If we made a mistake, we would set it aside and eat it later when there were no orders waiting to be made up.

Most of us were High School students working after school and on weekends, but we always wanted time off for certain things like an important basketball game or to take a girl to the movies. That cost 25 cents at the Clinton Theater just down the street.

One time, Fred and his friend, Doug, and I picked up our pay, then headed to Batavia Downs to watch the horse races. The manager wanted us to work, but we refused. I think that was the beginning of the end of our employment at Bowkers. It had been fun. Many of our classmates hung out there after school. There was a juke box and we played our favorite songs, like “Music, Maestro, Please” or “Ahab the Arab” or “Moon Over Miami.” Great songs. And only a nickel per.

Routine

Now that the morning temperatures are in the 70s, we have a new routine. After feeding the girls, Grandma and I go for our walk, then home for breakfast and the morning news. We were waiting until we had devoured the news and our gruel before venturing out. Summer is nice but it's difficult to think about walking any other time than first thing.

I have my annual physical this month, so I told our Doctor I'd try to get into shape by then. That means doing nothing different, because I think I'm in good shape now considering the shape I'm in. My weight is fairly steady, moving up and down within a 2 or 3 pound range. Grandma is a good cook, so our diet is sound. And walking is good for the cardiovascular system. The only problem is that my cataracts are beginning to come out of hibernation; I was told over 35 years ago that they were starting. Probably by this autumn I'll need to have them checked for surgery. All in all, not bad for a guy about to become 76 years old.

Today's Quote

"A happy life consists not in the absence, but in the mastery of hardships."

~ Helen Keller

Scary

We are just recovering from the news about the tainted pet food coming from China when this story appeared in the morning paper:

"Chinese firms cornering global market for vitamins
"If you pop a vitamin C tablet in your mouth, it's a good bet it came from China. Indeed, many of the world's vitamins are now made in China.
"In less than a decade, China has captured 90 percent of the U.S. market for vitamin C, driving almost everyone else out of business.
"Chinese pharmaceutical companies also have taken over much of the world market in the production of antibodies, analgesics, enzymes and primary amino acids. According to an industry group, China makes 70 percent of the world's penicillin, 50 percent of its aspirin and 35 percent of its acetaminophen (often sold under the brand name Tylenol), as well as the bulk of vitamins A, B12, C and E."

The article goes on to report some of the suppliers are "sloppy bucket shops" with no oversight. Sure is scary news.

Quote of the Day

From Ancestry.com:

Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyze you; they're supposed to help you discover who you are."

~ Bernice Johnson Reagon

Happy Birthday, Charlie

Happy 80th! And many more!

Burma Shave

I received one of those e-mails that has been spinning around the Internet for several years about the old Burma Shave signs that used to line the highways and byways of this great country. The e-mail listed a bunch of the signs, but neglected to list my very best favorite. I don't know where or when I spotted it, but it has stayed with me ever since. For those too young to have ever seen any, they were a series of five small signs - about 8" by 24" - that contained verses about driving on the first four, then the last was the Burma Shave ad. So here's my favorite:
Famous last words
About lights that shine:
If he won't dim his,
I won't dim mine.
Burma Shave.

Take heed all you drivers!

By the way, I never knew anyone who used Burma Shave.

Saturday Feast

On Saturday, Grandma and I went to Muze Lounge for Crawfish Etouffe. We had first had it during one of our RV trips to Louisiana, and have kept looking for it ever since. Muze Lounge is owned by the same people who owned Foster's Seafood restaurant, now closed. They received an offer from an out-of-state bank that they couldn't refuse, so closed and moved their staff and menu to Muze. We had eaten dinner there on Thursday with our friends, the Painters, so made reservations for the Crawfish special. Every few years, they order fresh Crawfish to be flown in. It seems like about four years since they last had it. The good news is that Grandma was not bothered by an outbreak of hives, so we know she can eat the Etouffe without worrying. We hope she is getting over her sensitivity to food, but we continue to be vigilant.
The Etouffe was served in a large bowl; a layer of rice smothered with Crawfish then all drowned in a mildly spicy sauce. My mouth waters just thinking about it.

The Finished Paint Jobs

At last, the vanity and laundry cabinets have been painted. So here are the results. Of course, the photos don't do the job justice, so you'll just have to see them for yourselves.

Being Older

Corine sent me an e-mail that mentioned a bunch of things that us older folks would remember, but might be a surprise to the young 'uns. That started me on a mental journey back to the 30s and 40s, this is what I wrote:

"To all you young 'uns, being born in 1931 meant no Little League; we played baseball in the street with a ball that was showing string through the ratty cover. Everyone was on the lookout for cars so we could clear the way. We were lucky if we owned a glove, so when we up to bat we loaned our gloves to the fielders. In the fall, we played in the leave piles at the curb, until they were re-raked and burned; anyone remember the smell of burning leaves? During the war (that's World War II), we learned how to take oleomargarine and mix in a capsule of coloring to make it look like butter; my Father said after the war that he didn't want another stick of margarine in the house, so we had butter from then on. Anyone remember Victory Gardens? Or chasing the iceman's horse and wagon, hoping for a sliver of ice to suck on? We had a milk box by the side door where the milkman would pick up the empty bottles and leave the fresh milk; the cream would be at the top of the bottle. In the winter, the milk would start to freeze and sometimes pushed the bottle top right off the bottle. I suppose all this would make a good blog. I'll have to collect my thoughts and see what comes up."

Now it's a new day and a new thought: Kemtone. Anyone remember Kemtone? It was the first of the water-based paints. We lived on Linden Street in Rochester, NY when my father came back from Wabnitz Hardware with a gallon of the paint. We painted the side room where my brother and I had our hobby tables. It was a robin's egg blue and had a strange odor. But the clean-up was with plain water. An amazing discovery. We don't think about the miracle of water-based paints these days, but back then, it truly was something revolutionary.