Happy Birthday, Sharon

We hope you are having a great day. I think the best photo of you is the one on your blog, riding a bicycle. (If anyone wants to see, it's at mimimiller.blogspot.com.) Just goes to show what a grandmother of 7+ can still do.

Happy Birthday, Mark

Happy Birthday, Son. Hope you and Karen are having a good time in New York.

Happy Birthday, Sally

We hope you are having a GREAT birthday celebration.

I've Been Workin' On The Railroad

One summer during my college years, I took a job with The New York Central Railroad on a signal crew. We were mostly college kids and on our first day, we built up our sagging muscles by emptying out a gondola car of sand. The rest of the summer was spent digging deep holes for a line of telephone poles along a new switch-over connecting the Main Line to the North Shore Line. It was hard work in the hot, humid New York summer, but we were given enough breaks to replenish our water (and beer) supply.

One day, one of the gang brought a large basket of home grown cucumbers. On our break, we dug into the basket. I can still remember how cool they tasted and how refreshing they were. They certainly slaked our thirst. Today, the sight of a large green cucumber brings back the memory.

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.

Happy Birthday, Roy

We hope you have a great birthday celebration.

Old Poem Found

Whoopeeeee! Thanks to Google, I've found the poem I've been looking for as I noted on March 22, 2006. I had some of the words wrong, that was the problem. The Poem was written by John G. Neihardt and published in the early 1910s. Here it is:

WHEN I AM DEAD

When I am dead and nervous hands have thrust
My body downward into careless dust;
I think the grave cannot suffice to hold
My spirit 'prisoned in the sunless mold!
Some subtle memory of you shall be
A resurrection of the life of me.
Yea, I shall be, because I love you so,
The speechless spirit of all things that grow.
You shall not touch a flower but it shall be
Like a caress upon the cheek of me.
I shall be patient in the common grass,
That I may feel your foot fall when you pass.
I shall be kind as rain and pure as dew,
A loving spirit 'round the life of you.
When your soft cheeks by perfumed winds
are fanned,
'Twill be my kiss ~ and you will understand.
But when some sultry, storm bleared sun has set,
I will be lightning if you dare forget.

Gluecklich Geburtstag, Anna

Anna, wir hoffen du hast eine gluecklich Geburtstag, mit viele Kuchen.
Tante Shirley und Onkle Bob

Paint

Well, yesterday, I painted half the laundry room cabinet doors, plus the framework - two coats. So today, so far, I've put the first coat on the rest of the doors and sprayed the hinges. By tomorrow, everything should be put back together, and my indoor painting jobs will be over. For a long, long time, I hope. Photos will be forthcoming. Don't know when, but they'll be forthcoming.
We have two folding tables which I set up in half of the garage. The Aspire spends the night outside in the fresh air so the Escape is protected from the ravishes of the weather. I spread old sheets over the tables and on the floor to try to contain the mess. Using a spray can on the hinges fills the garage with fumes, so I do that last thing, then open the door a little to let the fumes wander through the neighborhood. The painter we had do the walls and ceilings used Dun Edwards paint, which I'm now convinced is much better than Behr from Home Depot. He had left us a gallon to use on the cabinets ("us" means me).
I'm content to do the painting as long as Grandma keeps cooking up those delicious meals.

Happy Birthday, Renate

We hope you have lots of kaffee und kuchen heute.

Happy Birthday, Big Brother

April 23, 1930, proud parents announced the birth of their first son, Frederick Arthur Miller.

April 23, 2007, brother Bob proudly wishes his big brother a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

Thievery

This guy/gal was caught just before he/she took off after raiding one of our feeders. He/she is a Gila Woodpecker, and shows up just about every day. This is the only photo I've been able to get so far.

Hummingbirds

Rick Watson, at his Life 101 blog - http://dorahighschoolalumni.blogspot.com, wrote about Hummingbirds, so I thought I would show you all a photo of one of our four feeders, with a hungry visitor. We have four of these feeders, and it keeps me busy filling them. Three birds can feed at the same time. Mostly, we have Anna's Hummingbirds; the males have a bright red head when the light hits them, otherwise it looks black.

Easter 2007

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.
Because He lives, all fear is gone.
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living just because He lives.

(from the gospel music of Bill and Gloria Gaither.)

HAPPY EASTER TO ONE AND ALL!

Dr. Charles J. Kienzle

We have lost our revered family Doctor, Charles J. Kienzle, who died recently. He had been our doctor since we moved to Scottsdale in 1990. He was "Doc" to me and I was "Professor" to him; how he decided on that nickname is beyond me. He was a devout fly fisherman, tying his own flies to be used in waters all over the country. One time while he was sewing me up after some minor surgery, I asked him if he was using a fisherman's knot; he cracked up and had to take a minute to regain his composure.
I've decided to re-dedicate my poem "Deer River Revisited" to him.

Deer River Revisited

It wasn’t easy getting there;
Over fallen trees,
Frog-hopping rock to rock.
The many pockets of his vest
Held his gear.
He had to thread the rod
Through the bushes,
Taking care not to snag his leader.
He knew -
Somehow he just knew -
Where the best places were.
(We wonder still how he knew.)
The line always went to the right spot.
Was there a tell-tale flash of silver
That exposed the prey
Just before his cast?
We knew the concluding act
Long before the trout conceded the battle.
One more to the creel,
And one more,
And one again.
We envied his skill
As we shared the pan-fried trophies
By the campfire.

He’s gone now.

We’re left with the wonder
And the distant taste-sense
And the memory of the pleasure
Of his company.

Dedicated to Dr. Charles J. Kienzle,
may his creel always be full.

Odd Jobs of Short Duration

Odd Jobs of Short Duration

Picking Worms
Back in the 50s, my brother, Fred, and his then father-in-law, Les, would make a few extra dollars by picking worms and selling them to bait stores. Our equipment consisted of a flashlight covered with red cellophane, an old coffee can and waterproof shoes. We would go to Locust Hill Country Club in the evening, after the sprinklers had been shut off and look for the worms. They were usually completely out of their holes, so we merely picked them up and dropped them into the coffee can. The groundskeepers didn’t mind as long as we stayed off the greens. We sold the worms for about 50 cents each, sometimes a dollar. The bad part was that our backs would be sore for a while after an evening of picking.

BINGO!
Another job in the 50s was working behind the counter at the Bingo hall on Scottsville Road. The first few games cost 10 cents, then there was a group of games for 10 dollars, then back to individual games for 10 cents. The group consisted of games like make an X, go all around the outside, fill the board, etc. The challenge was to collect all the dimes for the first game before someone won. Usually, the players would have 10 and 20 dollar bills out to pay for the 10 cent game, so we would have to change all the bills in a hurry. Sometimes the game would end before we finished collecting, and one or two of the players would try to move to another table to avoid paying. Another trick they tried was to ask for a bunch of boards, looking for certain numbers, then not decide which board(s) to use until after the first number had been called; they wanted to try to find a board with that number on it. We just wouldn’t let them play that game. After a few nights, we caught on to which players to watch. The room was usually smoke-filled, but that was in my smoking days so it didn’t bother me. Today, I wouldn’t go near the place.

Chemo

Daughter Gail starts a short series of chemotherapy on Friday, so if you have any unused prayers, please let one loose for her.

A Correction

Smitty, my buddy since 8th grade, read my blog and wondered if 1951 wasn't the year we both took jobs at GM Rochester Products Division, and I have to admit that he's right. I was off by a year. So much for memory retention.
What happened in 1951 was that he and I went to be interviewed for jobs at RPD by a friend of my parents, who hired us. Night shift. I was at the end of the assembly line where I made up boxes for the inspected carburetors, then packed them for shipment. Well, the night shift interfered with my social life, so I quit after about a week. Not too long after that, I went to work for Kasiner Hobbies, a local retail shop and wholesale distributor owned by Norm and Marie Kasiner.
Norm and another fellow, Bill Kashler, had started marketing their own line of model railroad passenger car kits in O and HO gauge sizes. One of my jobs was to pack the parts in the kits, which I did in between waiting on customers. A while ago I saw one of the kits for sale on eBay, so I bid on it. I won and paid through PayPal, but the seller never sent the kit. I sent him an email that he had sold his soul and reputation for less than 10 dollars. I subsequently heard from another person that she had been taken by the same guy for over $200, so I didn't feel too bad after that news. But I hated to have him get away with it.

Daylight Savings Time

I’ve always had trouble with daylight savings time, so I’m very happy to live in Arizona where we don’t mess with our clocks.

In 1951, I took a job on the New York Central Railroad, working for the summer with a bunch of other college students on the signal gang. Of course, daylight savings time was in effect, and I knew that the railroad didn’t operate on daylight savings time, so that meant there was a difference of one hour between our clock and theirs. My father couldn’t drive me to the job site the first day, so I had arranged for my Aunt Evelyn to deliver me. It was to Genesee Junction, off Scottsdale Road near where Black Creek feeds into the Genesee River. Starting time was 8 a.m. railroad time, so I calculated that to be, because of the one hour difference, 6 a.m. on our clock. Being a Math major in college, I was absolutely sure of my calculations. Well, needless to say, I went the wrong way on the clock, so wound up waiting two hours to report for work to my new employer.

So I’m happy to live in a part of the world where I don’t have that kind of pressure anymore. Is it “spring forward, fall back” or “fall forward, spring back“; see what I mean? I remember a movie with Jack Oakie (remember him?) where he was trying to stay on the football team and had to pass the history exam. The big question he was having trouble with was when did Columbus discover America. So his friends came up with a rhyme to help him: Columbus sailed the ocean blue in fourteen hundred and ninety-two. So on the day of the test, after hours of practicing the rhyme, the instructor asked the big question: When did Columbus discover America? Proud as a peacock, he answered: Columbus sailed the deep blue sea in fourteen hundred and ninety-three. See what pressure can do to ones mind?

More photos of the new paint job

Except for the bathroom, all the walls are the same color. The small painting setting in front of the fireplace is the last watercolor painting I've done. The desk in the bedroom is where Grandma creates her beautiful necklaces and bracelets.

New chandeliers

The wall color here is the same in both the entry and the family room. The ceiling in the family room is the same color as the walls. That's Grandma's computer desk on the left.

New color in the vanity

These are before and after photos of our vanity. The cabinets were whitewashed oak and are now dark brown, but will be repainted to match the trim which is a sort of cream color. The old light bar has been replaced with a new polished chrome 5 light fixture. The wall color is the lighter brown used on the ceiling in the kitchen. The color changes depending on the light.

The Fastidious Ebenezer Hill

The Fastidious Ebenezer Hill (an original essay by Granpappy)

Ebenezer Hill, or Mister Hill, as he was known to us who lived in these parts, occupied a one-room cabin that he said was built on land that belonged to his family since “way back when”. No one disputed the claim because none of us had ever been here way back then to see the cabin being built, or by whom. He was a very fastidious person, keeping the cabin and surrounding area clear of all dust and debris. At least, that was the story told from time to time, whenever his name crept into the conversation, or when Mister Hill came striding into view. No one of recent acquaintance had ever set foot in the cabin, so there were no eyewitnesses to the fact of the fastidiousness of his domicile. But eyebrows were raised at the mention of the claim.
I remember not too long ago that Jonathan Whitehall reported a close encounter of Mister Hill, stating that his fingers had the look of a permanent brown stain of nicotine and that he (Mister Hill) was surrounded by the stinking aura of burned tobacco. Jonathan, apparently, had seen Mister Hill without his usual formal grey driving gloves, a rare occasion indeed. And to catch the odor of anything other than his bay rum toilette water was a near miracle in itself. Everyone down at Brinkman’s General Store wondered if perhaps young Jonathan hadn’t dreamt the encounter. However, we were soon to learn the truth of the matter.
It was the following Saturday that Constable Pike walked into Oliver’s Barber Shop for his usual beard trim and haircut. When he entered, Constable Pike looked as though he was just about bursting with some kind of news, so it didn’t take Mr. Oliver long to question it out of him. The way it came out was that a group of men, acquaintances of Mister Hill, arranged to meet at Mister Hill’s cabin to discuss some kind of business proposition. Against Mister Hill’s wishes, several of the men began to smoke cigars inside the cabin. Despite the importance of the business being discussed, Mister Hill insisted that the gentlemen smoke their cigars outside. Well, as happens occasionally, one thing led to another and finally Mister Hill ushered them all out, but not before he had crushed their cigars in his sink. Needless to say, that left his hands stained, and cigar smoke permeating his clothing. Shortly thereafter, Mister Hill arrived in town to consult with Constable Pike about possible repercussions over the incident at his cabin. It was during that trip that young Jonathan had had his brief encounter with Mister Hill and had made his report to all and sundry. To top off the incident, Constable Pike, in response to further questions, admitted the he had accompanied Mister Hill to the cabin to ascertain the gentlemen had indeed left the area, and was delighted to report to one and all that the cabin was certainly kept in a fastidious manner. Needless to say, not a few were disappointed to find their suspicions laid to rest.

Ah, Spring

Spring has sprung; da grass is riz.
I wonder where da boidies is.

Twice in the past week, I've seen a robin in our yard. Probably on its way north, as they don't spend the summers here. And all the frost-damaged trees and shrubs are showing green. We've been eating on the patio at noon since the temperature has been climbing into the high eighties. Good to have it warm this week so we can open the windows and air the house out. The painter has been here all last week, and plans to finish by Wednesday. I'll post some photos of our "new" house as soon as we get it all put back together.

Being a Director

Shortly after we moved here, I was asked to become a Director of our homeowner's association, which I did. At that time, the homeowners had just taken over responsibility from the builder. I have served on the Board of Directors almost all of the years since. Recently, I checked on the past rosters to see how many people have been Directors. We are a community of 72 homes, of which 10 current residents have served. Some homeowners have lived here longer than I, but have refused to get involved except to complain about everything from the water temperature in the spa and pool to not enough gravel in their yard to their tree didn't get trimmed. It's amazing to see how petty some people can become.

Well, they'll have to get along without me to beat up on. Tomorrow is my last day as Director, as I have turned in my resignation. Yep, I'm done! For good! I've climbed out of the barrel. And I'm willing to bet that none of the complainers will volunteer to take my place.

Chasing Ancestors

Grandma and I subscribe to Ancestors.com and use it just about every day. They have census records indexed up to 1930, and have begun transcribing ship's lists. I've been looking for the ships that brought my grandmother and grandfather here from Germany. My grandmother was about 7 when she, her mother and 2 sisters arrived; my grandfather was about 16 when he arrived accompanied, I believe, by his 13 year old brother. One clue is that the census records list the year they said they immigrated. To check the information, I logged onto Ancestry.com to find their records. Well, it wasn't that easy. First of all, they aren't indexed under their surname of Goebel; in 1910 and 1920, they used Gabel. And in the 1930 census, the transcriber listed them as Gorbel; I notified Ancestry about that error. (The one sister was listed in one record as Mangler, instead of Manzler.) To find the Gabels/Gorbels, I looked for their next door neighbor's record, then went directly to the image of the census sheet.

Now, in 1910, my grandmother said she had arrived in 1884 and her sister said 1882; in 1920, they said 1886 and 1885; in 1930, it was 1884 and 1885. (I'm sure that 1884 is too late, because their mother was married in February; I suspect 1882 is correct.) My grandfather was consistent at 1891, but his brother listed 1892 and 1894.

The ship's list aren't indexed prior to 1890, so I've been looking at the actual images, beginning with December 31, 1882 and working backwards. Right now, I'm back to 07 October 1882. My hope is that Ancestry gets their ship's list indexed before I go much further.

I haven't tried to find my grandfather's ship yet. I'll need to use Gabel and Goebel for his surname, and Heinrich and Henry as his given name. Hopefully, the transcriber will have read the information correctly. And his brother was Martin Heinrich Goebel in Germany, but was Fred Gabel over here.

That's what makes the research so much fun - to work through all the twists and turns to find the correct information.

Frankie Laine

According to the morning paper, Frankie Laine has died. In the 40s, I went to one of his shows in downtown Rochester. I don't remember much about the show except that, when he was introduced, he came leaping onto the stage. It took him about two giant leaps to get from the wings to center stage.

Letters

I write letters, lots of letters. Everyday. To family, to friends, to my homeowners association, to politicians, to governmental agencies, to the Editor. Letters pro this, that, or the other thing. Letters anti-whatever. Philosophical musings. Poetry. Anecdotes. Family history. You name it, I've written about it.

The only thing is - they're written in my head and not down on paper. So all these words of wisdom rattle around in my skull and only occasionally see the white of paper.

So to all you who decry my lack of correspondence, please note that the grammar is here waiting for release, and someday soon it may break free.

A Tough Winter

The newspaper reported that January was the coldest since 1979. Just about all of our shrubs have been devastated by the freezing weather, especially the Bougainvilla. I'm anxious to get out there and start trimming the dead branches, but the correct thing to do is sit on one's hands until the new growth starts to sprout. That way, it's easier to determine where to cut. Actually, I'd like to replace all the Bougainvilla with anything that has less debris, like Banksia Rose, or Pyracantha, but Grandma likes the beautiful color.

The FBR Open (golf contest) was delayed the other day because of frost on the course. Must be tough on the golfers to have to sit and wait for Mother Nature.

Daughter Gail called this morning to report that her breast cancer surgery went VERY well, and that her husband had been out clearing the driveway of snow. He has received official notice of his retirement date - April 1 - so they are already listing all the places they'd like to visit.

We think we're out of winter now that the temperature is to hit in the 70s.

It's going to be a good year!

Warming?

During our trip to the Canadian Rockies last August, we were shown photos of the glaciers as they had been receeding over the years. Lots of mention of "global warming" to go along with the pictures. So the thing I wonder about is: why have I been covering our sensitive plants for the past month to protect against the frost, if there is global warming?

This morning it was 20 on our patio thermometer! In Scottsdale, AZ! In the Sonoran Desert!

How about global cooling?

December 25th

Happy Birthday to You;
Happy Birthday to You;
Happy Birthday Dear Jesus;
Happy Birthday to You!

Santa Meets Jacob

Here is a great photo of Jacob Hoffman's first visit with Santa. It isn't known what their conversation covered.

In The Meantime

Rev. Sheldon Peterson was the Minister at the North Ontario United Methodist Church for many years. He passed away a few years ago. Grandma and I were faithful members, and attended almost every Sunday when we lived in Ontario, and we would try to go there when we visited family and friends in the summers.

One of the last times I saw Shel, I reminded him of my favorite sermon. He was pleased to know.

The sermon was titled "In The Meantime", and dealt with the question of how we were to spend out time on Earth until we met our maker. What will we do in the meantime - between birth and death?

The same question can be asked of any situation. For instance, what will you do in the meantime between signing in at the Doctor's office and when you get to talk with him? What will you do in the meantime while you are standing in line at the check-out counter? What will you do in the meantime while waiting for the traffic light to turn green? What will you do in the meantime while waiting for your child to be toilet trained? What will you do in the meantime while waiting for your daughter/son to come home from their first date? All those little "in the meantimes" add up to a description of our character. I hope the pluses in my ledger outnumber the minuses.

Pepper

The Vet said she has arthritis in her hips. He prescribed Rimadyl, which she started today. Hopefully, that will do the trick.

What, It's December 18th Already?

Where has the time gone? It seems as though I've blinked and it's almost time to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Fortunately, Grandma and I have mailed out our cards and sent the gifts (gift cards) to family. And somewhere along the line, I've painted the guest bathroom a nice shade of brown. The new granite countertop has been ordered, but won't be here in time for the holidays. And I've cut a mat for a painting done by a fellow student, who, fortunately, didn't give me a deadline.
Today, Pepper goes to the Vet to have her rear legs checked out. After 10 years, she has a little trouble getting up. She has been favoring her right rear leg. Both legs have been operated on in the past for torn ACLs. Could be from that or possible arthritis. We'll know later.
Ginger continues on Prednisone, and acts like a new dog, walking and running. No more rides in the wagon!
And we have new additions to the family! We're great grandparents again! For photos, go to www.mimimiller.blogspot.com.
December 18th already? Hard to believe.
Merry Christmas to one and all.

Computer Crash

It all started when Grandma's mouse decided to take on a life of it's own. It suddenly reversed the buttons so that the left button became the right and the right button the left. To make sure it was just the mouse and not other things, I hooked up my mouse and it worked as it should. Then I hooked Grandma's mouse to my computer and had the same problem. So a new mouse went on the shopping list.

I forget (mental block) what exactly happened next, but I wound trying to perform a system restore, which would save the files but restore the system programs to an earlier version. Unfortunately, I used the wrong function, which not only set the programs back to day one, but erased all of Grandma's files.

So we've been working to add her records and files back into her computer. The one saving grace is that I had copied her files to an external hard drive not too long ago. That allowed us to bring everything back, except the many changes she had made to her genealogy records. And all her e-mail addresses and favorite web sites were gone. But she has been making progress to get everything back to a usable level.

We walked over to Office Max to buy a new mouse and happened to see a Maxtor OneTouch III 60 gb external hard drive on sale, so we bought it. It is now hooked up to Grandma's computer, and programmed to copy her "documents" file every evening at 10 pm. I highly recommend an external hard drive to one and all, in case of one of those unexplained "human error" tragedies that occur without forewarning.

Trapping Rats

When I worked at James Cunningham Sons & Co. in Rochester, NY, I worked for an inventor named Andy Vincent. One day, he told me about his experiences developing an electric rat trap. The story goes something like this:

Sibleys department store had a grocery section and stored their goods in the basement, where they were plagued by rats. Somehow, they got in touch with Andy, who spent some time at night in the basement observing the rat behavior. He found their main "road" and placed a trap on it. But the rats wouldn't enter the trap; it had one end closed, with the other end activated by a switch in the floor. So he changed the trap by adding another open end, activated by the same switch.

The theory was that the rats would be trapped and in their panic would go into an adjoining chamber where they would be electrocuted; the bottom of the chamber would open to drop the dead rat out. Well, the rats would go into the trap, the doors would close, and the rats would just sit there analyzing the situation, until the doors opened again, then walk out.

So back to the drawing board!

The next step was to install a pad that would give a tickle jolt of electricity to the rat in the first chamber, causing it to go into the adjoining chamber and meet it's fate. Success at last! And that's how an inventor claimed victory over a common pest.


The reason this all came to mind is that I have seen rats in our back yard twice recently. They are known locally as "roof rats", but are a black rat. They eat citrus fruit. So instead of trying to build one of Andy's ingenious devices, I bought some D-Con. It's up on a wall held down by a brick so it won't fall into reach by our two Corgis. So far, the first box has been cleaned out, and the second box is untouched. Hopefully, my rat problem has been solved.

Free at last - well, kinda

My time and energy have been taken up with preparations for last weekend's art sale. This has been in the works for months. It's taken me a long time to get the correct color mats, find suitable frames, then mat and frame my watercolors, and finally to build the display panels. The last detail was to rent a truck to get the panels from home to the show, then back again; they won't fit in our Ford Escape. I had reserved a U-Haul pick-up, but at the last minute, a fellow student said he would be happy to help out.

All went well at the sale as far as I was concerned. I sold three of my paintings. My instructor bought one! (I must be doing something right.) My first show ever, and three were sold. I still can't believe it.

So now I'm trying to get back into the normal routine. A Board of Directors meeting this afternoon, a movie tomorrow, yard work the rest of the week, etc. It's good to be back.

Friday, 27 October 2006

It's that time of year when we start out in the morning with the heat on to take the chill out of the house, open the doors mid-morning, then turn on the air conditioning in the evening to make it comfortable for sleeping. Grandma and I ate lunch (our main meal) on the patio, which was a cool 70. I was in the sun and felt hot and Grandma was in the shade wearing a sweater. And we learned that Daylight Savings Time ends this weekend. At least we don't need to change a bunch of clocks here, we just go from California time to New Mexico time.

Everyone at watercolor class this morning was talking about the up-coming "Fine Art Fair", trying to figure out how to display their wares and to get some idea of the prices they should charge. Our instructor said we should start with the cost of the frame and add whatever we felt we had put into the painting. I said my prices would range from $15 to $700, raising a few eyebrows. Well, the largest frame cost big bucks, so why not? I just hope to sell enough to recover the cost of the display panels.

Grandma is busy putting together some necklaces. She has branched out to chain, and is now using gold as well as silver. She does nice work. She complains that it cuts into her time researching genealogy, but she seems to find time for both.

The World Series goes on and on. When I was in college in Oklahoma back in the early 50s, one of the first things we did after checking in for the fall semester was to stop in at the local pub for a beer and to watch the Series. Now it's almost into November. How much longer will it be before the owners decide to make it a year-round season; they sure need the money!

24 October 2006

The Fine Art Fair is fast approaching - November 11th and 12th - and I've been uptight since I signed up for a booth last Spring. The Senior Center will allocate a 10' x 10' space and provide a table and chair. So Elliot, a fellow student at the Center, and I have been busy trying to figure out how to obtain display panels for our watercolors. We checked into renting, but turned up nothing. We worked over a bunch of possible designs to make our own and finally settled on a group of 4' wide by 6 1/2' tall panels with a 4' x 4' pegboard panel. Once we made that decision, we bought the supplies at the local Home Depot, brought everything here, and began construction. The completed panels are now leaning against the back of the house, covered with plastic. So far, so good.

The next task is to arrange transportation from here to the Center. We'll probably rent a pickup truck.

In the meantime, I've been trying to evaluate all my work to decide which are saleable, and how to mat and frame them. I had some very good advice about mat colors and combinations from my daughter, Gail, and her husband,David, when they were here, which worked out well. So far, I've decided on 33 to be offered for sale.

The next decision is to figure out what number to put on the price tag. I have two large paintings that were professionally framed; each cost over $250.00, so their prices will be up there. Some will only be matted, so will be lower priced. If Elliot and I sell enough to recoup the cost of the panels, we'll be happy.

Keep your fingers crossed for us. It's the first time I've ever attempted anything like this. So far, only family and friends have any of my work. Of course, I can always brag that my work is in private collections in Arizona, Texas and on the East Coast.

Dumb and Dumbest?

A recent survey by persons unknown to me, but apparently of the professional community, have concluded that Arizona is the dumbest state in the Union. Vermont and some of the other New England states rank at or near the top. So tell me, if we're so dumb and they're so smart, why do they spend so much time wearing snow boots?

A Man's Best Chili Recipe

This from Clay Thompson, who writes a column in the Arizona Republic:

Chili Recipe
Open a can of chili. Dump it in a pan, heat, eat and enjoy. Yummers.


Sure does simplify the process.

CHARlotte or CharLOTTE?

Every day, I check the weather page for those places where various members of the family live. One of those places is Charlotte, NC, which is pronounced CHAR-lotte. And, there is a beach next to the intersection of the Genesee River and Lake Ontario which is called Charlotte, but pronounced Char-LOTTE. I wonder which came first, and why the difference in pronunciation. Anyone have any ideas?

Coasting in Neutral

An article in the morning paper mentioned "coasting in neutral" and it immediately brought back a memory.

It was about 1941 when Uncle Henry, my brother Fred and I headed down to Elmira for the airplane and glider show on Harris Hill. Uncle Henry had told our parents that we would camp out in a tent overnight. My mother had given Fred and me a dollar each to spend, so we were in seventh heaven.

At the show, glider rides cost two dollars; I don't remember the negotiations, but Fred wound up with my dollar and the glider ride.

That evening, we drove down the road a little ways, and Uncle Henry set up the tent. Imagine our surprise to find that he wasn't going to stay with us, but would be in a motel in Elmira! Oh well, at least he left us his Benjamin pellet air pistol for protection against whatever evil things our minds could conjure up, which were substantial. So we spent most of the evening pumping up the pistol and shooting at anything that rustled in the leaves. (We`decided later that we had been shooting at worms.)

The next morning, Uncle Henry showed up, packed up the tent and took us to breakfast.

The way home took us on route 15 along Hemlock Lake, where the road had a great long hill to descend. That's where Uncle Henry decided to see how far the car could go just coasting down the hill. Of course, in those days there wasn't much traffic, so off we went, with the engine turned of and the gear shift in neutral. As we coasted down the hill, Fred and I took turns shooting the Benjamin pellet air pistol out the window at various targets along the way, including at least one large, black crow (we missed). At the bottom of the hill, as the car slowed to a crawl, Uncle Henry announced the mileage, started up the engine and off to home we went.

Quite an adventure for two pre-teenagers.

Rain Cloud

Here's a photo taken a few weeks ago. Grandma and I were sitting on the patio watching the sunset and a coming rain storm, when we saw this sheet of rain.

Stan Kenton

We lived on Linden Street at the time I was exposed to the music of Stan Kenton. My brother, Fred, and I shared a room on the first floor, just off the dining room, in which we had our work tables. Our father had built the tables especially for us. Fred’s was used for his radio/electronics hobby, and mine was for my model airplanes.

Of course, having the radio/electronics hobby, Fred had a record player. And also of course, he and his friend, Doug, started collecting records. At that time, only 78 rpm records were available, which contained only one tune on each side. (To contain the same number of tunes as currently on my iPod would have required over 1600 records.) The local record store, in downtown Rochester, had booths in which we could listen to the records before we purchased them.

One of the records that Fred bought was “Eager Beaver” by Stan Kenton and his orchestra. The flip side was “Artistry In Rhythm”. I had never heard of Stan Kenton, but was about to be baptized in his “progressive jazz”.

Being teenagers, Fred and I sometimes stayed up all night working on our various projects. And while we worked, we listened to music. Sometimes, the radio, sometimes records. And one time it was “Eager Beaver” played not once, not twice, but over and over and over. The record was finally worn out, which caused no end of consternation to Fred, but a certain degree of joy to me.

Well, sad to say, Fred went right out and bought a new copy of “Eager Beaver” to replace the worn out one. Without hesitation, I broke the old one over his head. And ever since, I’ve been a fan of Stan Kenton‘s music. Go figure!

Two Black Crows

I was reading the Prologue in Studs Terkel’s book “And They All Sang” when an image flashed across my mind.

Grandma Goebel lived in a large two story house, well, two stories with a full attic and basement, with a large Dutch Elm tree in the front yard. From the sidewalk, you went up steps to the front porch, which held two rattan rocking chairs. Another step up through the large front door into the vestibule, then another door into the foyer, and you were finally inside. To the right was a coat closet. Also on the right was a stairway leading to the second floor. Straight ahead was another door into a dark hallway, with clothes hooks on the left, then straight ahead into the kitchen, then straight ahead again would take you into the pantry. Not just a small set of shelves but a full size pantry, with a refrigerator, that replaced the original ice box.

From the foyer, turning left were a set of glass doors that led to the living room. On one wall was a fireplace with a gas burner, the gas having long since been disconnected, but the false logs still in place. To the right, led to the dining room, every bit as large as the living room, but having a beamed ceiling. Off the dining room was a small room used as my Grandmother’s bedroom.

Upstairs had originally been four bedrooms, but by the time we moved in - in 1941 - one had been converted into a kitchen. Off the kitchen was a porch, open to the outdoors.

The attic is where my brother and I had our bed. Some of the original gas pipes were still to be seen on the chimney, which intruded into the middle of the attic.

But back to the dining room we go. There was a large upright Victrola phonograph machine in the room. There was a crank on the side of the machine to wind up the motor to turn the turntable. In the lower part of the unit there was a cabinet that held Grandma’s record collection. These were the old bakelite 78 rpm records, and very brittle. The machine used a rigid metal needle attached to a diaphragm to deliver the sound, so of course the extended use would gradually wear down the grooves in the records and produce an irritating scratchy sound.

I don’t remember all the music that Grandma had, but there were some classical pieces in there. The image that flashed across my mind, however, was a record of two men - the Two Black Crows - talking through a minstrel show-like routine which would make us laugh over and over. Corny jokes, to be sure, but laughable indeed.

Such a wonderful piece of furniture was that old Victrola phonograph machine.

Communication

There was a program on PBS a week or so ago about Alan Lomax, who took over responsibility from his father to record folk music from around the world. (I had taped the program and had just recently watched it.) In an interview in the late 1950s or early 60s, Alan talked about the decline in communication between people. He said that a few people with access to a million dollars could buy and control radio and television transmitters, and that people with very little money would buy the receivers. He called that a major human problem - the ability to silence large groups of the population - by limiting access to information. In essence, everybody is "off the air" except the people controlling the transmitters.

What struck me is that we are now in the middle of reversing that process because of the proliferation of computers and the use of the Internet. We are achieving what Alan called "cultural equity" by allowing everyone to communicate directly with anyone who chooses to be a receptor - by allowing anyone to read what someone has entered in a blog. Amazing technology.

Canadian Rockies

Grandma and I visited the Canadian Rockies, starting at Calgary, visiting Jasper, Lake Louise and Banff, then travelled by Rocky Mountaineer train to Vancouver. We had a great time, and met some very nice people. It was a Trafalgar Tour which we arranged through AAA. So here are a few photos from the trip.

Usually it takes us a few days to recover from a trip, but this time it was harder, mainly because we both started to come down with colds when we arrived home. We think it was from a fellow passenger on the train who was coughing and sneezing; he kept telling his significant other that it was only an allergy.

So we're almost back to normal, and I should be able to figure out where the photos were taken in a day or two.

The 75th Anniversary of My Birth

Lots of family and friends were there for the big bash. There were about 40 people there. Here are some of them.

The Golden Boys

Here are brother Fred on the left, me in the middle and Uncle Henry on the right. Fred had celebrated his 76th birthday in April, my 75th this month and Uncle Henry his 95th in June. That's a lot of years!

Thanks to Adobe Photoshop

Here's a better copy of Grandma and Granpappy, brought to you by himself through the wizardry of Adobe Photoshop.

Grandma & Granpappy

Here's the latest photo, taken Thursday evening as we were about to go out to dinner.

Writers

My favorite writer of all time is E. B. White, who wrote for the New Yorker magazine in days long gone by. He took Strunk's "Elements of Style" and modified it a little, and then followed his own advice. The one thing I remember from that is: Eliminate unnecessary words! If you read any of his essays, letters, etc., you'll notice he always picks the right one word, where I would use two or more. I've read and re-read his books and enjoy them every time I pick one up.

Lately, I've been checking on two writers who have caught my eye: Rick Watson and Dale Short. Rick has the blog at Life 101 and Dale is at Full Clear Light. Both have the ability to tell a story with the same clarity as White. I've ordered one of Dale's books at Barnes and Noble and can't wait to get into it. Rick is in process of publishing his first book, and I'll try to be first in line when it hits the street.

I encourage you all to check them out - White, Watson and Short. You'll like them, I'm sure.

Favorites

These are the Blogs I look at every day:
Shirley's Blog (my wife) at http://corgimom818.blogspot.com;
Mimi's Blog (my daughter-in-law) at http://mimimiller.blogspot.com
Life 101 (very well written and interesting) at http://dorahighschoolalumni.blogspot.com;
The Genealogue (a good sense of humor) at http://genelaogue.blogspot.com;
Full Clear Light (also very well written) at http://fullclearlight.blogspot.com.

What are your favorites?

Dust Storm

For those of you who have never seen a dust storm, here's a photo from the morning Arizona Republic of the cloud that rolled through parts of Phoenix yesterday. I've been fortunate enough to have never been caught on the road in one like this. These result in bad accidents, as people lose control of their vehicles.
One time many years ago, a bunch of us were driving back to Stillwater (my college days) when a wall of dust loomed in front of us. We drove into it to find it was only about five feet thick, so were out of it before we knew it.

Tempus fugit

Well cheese and crackers, how in tarnation is a person supposed to keep up with this technology business? It was a major change when we went from the Philco radio console to a tiny black-and-white television. Then someone came along with color. Then VCR's that took graduate engineers to program. Now DVDs, Tivo and digital video recorders.
And it wasn't too long ago that airplane pilots used beacons to find their way across the country. There was one just off the road on the way from Rochester to Batavia, by Black Creek, that always signalled that we were almost home from visiting my grandmother. In later years, when I had an opportunity to take airline trips for the company, the prop-driven Convairs would cruise low enough that we could follow traffic on the roads. In the winter, I liked to look down in the evening and see the lights reflecting from the snow. A beautiful sight that doesn't happen with the jets that fly at 30,000 feet.
Remington typewriters, then IBM Selectrics, then word processors, onto PCs and iMacs and Blackberry devices, IMs.
I had a 45 rpm record player when in college, a vast improvement from the old 78s. Then along came LPs, then 8-track players, tape cassettes, now iPods and MP3 players. I have almost 3400 tunes on my iPod, as if I can remember what they all are!
Now blogs and podcasts
It boggles the mind!

Records

When my mother's maternal grandmother emigrated from Germany in the late 1800s, she settled in Rochester, New York. She was a widow with three small daughters, but soon remarried, and had several more children. Her family attended the local Evangelical and Reformed Church, which my mother, brother and I also joined. I believe it was in the 1950s that the church burned down; by then, I had married and moved on.
Some years ago, I was busy tracing my ancestry, and wrote to the church for any applicable records. Fortunately, the birth and death records were available, so I was able to find some information, but I was informed that the marriage records had been lost in the fire. As it turns out, one of my cousins saved the Bible and the birth/death records book. He and his father, who was a fireman, heard the alarm and raced to the church. Buddy ran into the church and rescued the books just before the place went up in an inferno.

I had asked my father to write down what information he knew about his parents and grandparents, and were there any photographs of the family. His oldest brother, Gene, had been given the family Bible and the photo albums, but they were lost when Gene's house burned down. He was able to save photos of his father and mother, which he willed to me. The photo of his mother is the only know photo of her that exists; I have had the photos restored, copied and the copies given to my aunts and uncles. I've also digitized them and given copies of them, family albums and records to my brother and my children.

My message to one and all is to place a high value on family photos, letters, diaries, documents, records, Bibles, etc. and do everything in your power to keep them from disappearing. It's the history of your family. Don't lose any part of it.

Cousins

Here is a photo that nobody took while Grandma and I were in Germany in 2002. We visited cousins who live in the house my grandfather lived in before he emigrated to America. While we were there, we celebrated Grandma's birthday; one of her gifts was a visit to Wartburg, which is where this photo wasn't taken.


The photo wasn't taken because it's a composite of two photos, one with Grandma and our cousins, and one with me and our cousins. Using digital magic, I added Grandma to the second photo. So now we have a nice photo of the four of us that nobody took. Or is it a photo that two people took? Anyway, I've framed it and it rests in my "studio" where I look at it every day and remember the wonderful time we had with our German cousins.

Hogs

Sometime after he left the navy and before he married my mother, my father owned a Harley-Davidson motorcycle - a HOG. While digitizing their photo album, I ran across a photo of him with it, so copied it and have it in a frame on my dresser.
My daughter, Chris, and her husband, Randy, now own a HOG, which they ride every opportunity they are given. It rested over winter in their garage, covered by a blanket. There was a short discussion about whether or not it was acceptable to cover a HOG with a PINK blanket; think of it! A HOG covered in pink! I cringe at the thought of it.
However that may be, a few Sundays ago, I suddenly had the urge to send Chris and Randy a copy of the photo of my father posed proudly next to his Harley. So off it went via e-mail. Shortly after, I talked with Chris and she said she was pleasantly surprised to receive the photo. She and Randy had been talking about the Harley on Sunday - the same Sunday - and she remarked that she'd love to have a copy of her grandfather with his Harley, and the next day, there it was.
Who do you suppose whispered in my ear telling me to send the photo?

Framed

Here's one of my rose paintings, all framed and ready for the big sale in November.

The Blues Sisters

This was taken when the girls were much younger. It took us about 25 or 30 shots before we had the right one.

Apple Pancakes

Yesterday, Grandma decided to make a double batch of apple pancake - double the ingredients in one pan. The problem was that her hives were acting up and she didn't want to face the agony of peeling all those apples (about 8). I had offered to peel and core them, but that would have taken all of the afternoon and most of the evening, being as how I'm left handed and all the knives are right handed. Fortunately, Grandma had a great idea. Searching the Internet, she found that the local Linens and Things store had an apple peeler and corer. So off I went to buy the wonderful invention.
We couldn't believe how easy it was to peel and core apples with the contraption. It even slices them!
I went through those apples in jig time, Grandma had the frying pan ready to go, and soon the smell of hot apple pancake permeated the walls. It's amazing how hungry one can become by merely inhaling the odor of apple pancake.
We each had a larger-than-usual portion for supper and now we're cutting back today as the penalty for over indulging. Oh, but it was good while it lasted. And the best part is that there is more in the freezer for another day - or two. I can't wait!

Camping Today

While we were waiting for our wives to finish shopping for beads, Dick P. and I wandered around the REI store next door. They have just about everything anyone would need from bicycling to rock climbing to kayaking. Canoes, bicycle locks, hiking boots, walking shorts, $5,000 backpacks, GPS devices, freeze dried chili, und so wieder. But the thing that struck me was a device one would use with a small burner to make one cup of cappaccino. My gosh, where have we got to?
When my brother, Fred, and I started camping, we had a surplus Army tent that could sleep four compatible adults or lots of sleepy children. We went trout fishing in the Adirondacks with his, then, father-in-law, Les, who seemed to know where every trout stream was in the Northeast. We had a Coleman stove, a cast iron frying pan, a coffee pot, and some Boy Scout eating utinsels that folded up into a compact carrying satchel, plus a cooler to store our meager supply of perishable food. Cans of beans and roast beef hash, eggs, butter, bacon, coffee, beer and bread is my recollection of the contents of our larder. We relied on a good catch to supplement the menu. Plus soap and toilet paper.
We usually drove up to the "campsite" in a station wagon - this was in the 50s - on dirt logging roads. The campsite was merely an almost flat spot under some trees just a few yards from the stream. The State maintained the area, so there was a primitive outhouse across the road (bring your own paper), with a catch on the outside of the door to keep the animals out when it was not in use.
One of the first times we fished there, we had a good catch, so had fresh trout cooked in lots of butter for supper. Being late, we left the frying pan on the picnic table overnight. Well, the raccoons cleaned the pan sometime during the night, so it was just a matter of rinsing it out before breakfast. After that, we were more careful about leaving edibles out in the open.
But cappaccino and camping? It just doesn't seem right.

My Studio

Here's a photo of my "studio" and my latest watercolor. Pepper, my constant companion, is right there. The painting of the Angelfish passed inspection by my instructor and classmates.

Corgi Report

This was written in 2004 when Grandma and I were in England:

Pembroke Welsh Corgis

Red and white,
Littermates,
Sisters.
Can’t stand to be together,
Yet can’t bear to be apart.

Pepper bounces along ahead,
Stopping to berate her sister
For lagging behind,
But warning her not to try to lead.
She has the authority to be first
To each spot,
To check for the odor of other breeds.
Ginger doesn’t mind.
She plods along at her own pace,
Knowing full well the scent will wait for her.

They both limp now.
Not enough to keep them from their walk,
But just enough to elicit our sympathy.

True companions.
We are happy that they welcomed us to their pack.


Well, that was then and this is now; they're both 10 years old - 70 in human years (?). Pepper is showing her age, graying around her muzzle, and her limp is much more noticable. But she stills wants her daily walk, which doesn't always happen and which is shorter now. Despite both hind legs having been operated on for torn ACLs (Anterior Cruciate Ligaments) when she was still growing, she can dance for her supper (no, we don't make her do that, she just does it to show her impatience). She's my shadow; I have to keep looking around to make sure she's not under my feet.

Ginger suffers from arthritis. She can't always walk, so scoots along on one hip. We've put down rugs and runners to help her get traction to be able to get up, but she doesn't always try. Her left front paw is swollen, which makes it harder for her to get up. Grandma carries her out in the morning, then goes in to start fixing their breakfast; sometimes that's enough of an incentive to get her to walk into the house. Not always. She was Grandma's shadow and still keeps her eye on Grandma; she wants to be close, but can't always arrange it.

How can we be so lucky to have such loyal companions?

Another View Of The Fifth Of May

From today's Arizona Republic editorial page, by Linda Chavez:

"I suppose Cinco de Mayo fiestas are no worse than St. Patrick's or Columbus Day parades. . . .(But helping newcomers) learn about the Battle of Lexington and Concord is certainly more important to their understanding of what it means to be an American than teaching them about Gen. Zaragoza's victory at Puebla."

TheFifth of May

The Fifth of May, or as our Mexican legal and illegal immigrants like to call it, Cinco de Mayo, will not be celebrated in my house. I don't plan on celebrating a battle in which Mexican troops won (but lost the war), any more than they will be celebrating events from the countries of my ancestors; events such as the Council of Trent, or Bastille Day, or the Reunification of Germany. Until these are celebrated with the same gusto as the Fifth of May, I shall refrain from firing pisols in the air and waving Mexican flags at all passers-by.

Are you with me, Americans?