MORE  SCRAPBOOK  STUFF

Name

Reverend Brown-Whale performed a marriage ceremony at New Windsor, Maryland.

Rudeness

Letitia Baldridge, Jackie Kennedy's Chief of Staff says:

"The ruder the person, the sweeter and more direct you must be. Smile your biggest smile and make eye contact. That will throw them off guard. Then softly and firmly voice your request."

Money

"The Anthony dollar ... 'The Edsel of American coinage.' ... In 1979 and 1980, the mint produced 900 million Anthony dollars, assuming they would become 'coin of the realm.' "  It didn't happen. (anon.)

Diet

Elizabeth Arps writes: "A frequent dieter, I get annoyed when someone points out that I'm overindulging on some food. Once, while eating alone, I glanced into my bowl of sugary alphabet cereal to find the remaining floating letters spelled out the word HIPS!"

Memory Aid

Beryl Pfizer says:  "I write down everything I want to remember. That way, instead of spending a lot of time trying to remember what I wrote down, I spend the time looking for the paper I wrote it down on."

Life

Gandhi wrote: "There is more to life than increasing its speed."

Sounds of Love

"The first sound you hear is your mother's heartbeat, and for the rest of your life you feel loved when you hear that steady rhythm.  Lovers often listen to each other's hearts.

Much of Shakespeare's romantic poetry is written in iambic pentameter, which, literary critics have pointed out, echoes that wonderful da-DUM beat."

(anon.)

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 GHOSTS

we live in a retirement community named Carroll Lutheran Village (CLV), where we are protected from intrusions into our lives.  Therefore, we don't get any "Trick or Treaters" knocking on our doors. 

However, today, some "treater" left a bag of candy and power bars on our front porch.  It was nice of the "treater" to think of us, but being diabetic and pre-diabetic, we will have to come up with a "nibbler's schedule to avoid a necessary insulin increase."  And I'm sorry, we are not sharing our bounty right now!

Since the aforementioned "treater" signed as a ghost, I thought that I might find some "ghost info" to impart.  Here goes:

Archie Bunker, on seeing young "Trick or Treaters" dressed as ghosts, who stood silently at his door, remarked:  "I guess that whoever sent them wanted to remain unanimous."

There are lots of kids' jokes in the Super Duper Joke Book by Fredrica Young.  For example: (answers are at the end of this blog)

01.  Why do ghosts like to ride elevators?

02.  What does a mother ghost tell her little ghosts in the car?

03.  What song does a ghost like?

04.  What's the scariest waterway in America?

05.  Name a ghostly baseball team.

06.  What kinds of pants do ghosts wear?

07.  What is an Australian ghost's favorite desert?

In Dave Barry Talks Back Dave says he likes Halloween.  He especially likes it when the little ghostly "Trick or Treaters" ring the doorbell and stand there silently, because the costume's eyeholes don't sync with their actual eyes. 

Usually the silence will be broken by an adult voice from the darkness, hissing: "Say Trick or Treat, dammit!"

This is, of course, the voice of Dad, who wants this activity to be over, so he can get back to watching the World Series.

Finally, here are some silly ghost jokes from the 1980 edition of  5600 Jokes For All Occasions by Meiers and Knapp:

08.  Why can't that ghost haunt me?

09.  What's the definition of a skeleton?

10.   Why is the "flagpost sitter sitting at half mast?" 

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Answers:

01.  It raises their spirits.

02.  Fasten your sheet belts.

03.  Boo Moon.

04.  The Erie Canal.

05.  The Toronto Boo Jays.

06.  Boo Jeans.

07.  Boo-Meringue Pie

08.  Because he doesn't have a "haunting license."

09.  A stack of bones with the people scraped off.

10.  He's in mourning for his wife who died yesterday.

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I'll just be "shoveling  off."  (Digby)

HALLOWEEN

I'm sitting snuggly in our Maryland home, while the weekly "Northeaster" moans and groans outside, trying to blow us away. I've lived through several Massachusetts hurricanes. so Tropical Storm rain and wind don't upset me.

The big question: "Will the rainy and windy weather let up so that kids can "Trick or Treat?"

I've written about the "Trick or Treat" phenomenon in a much earlier blog entry, so I will probably repeat myself. 

Before 1944, Halloween night was the time for "Trick" only.  On that night, teen-agers enjoyed themselves by doing "tricks" such as:

Cutting clotheslines

Stealing garbage cans

Ringing doorbells and running away

Hanging toilet paper over everything

Removing fencing

Scaring little kids and animals.

Etc.

My Aunt Marjorie tried to calm things down each year by holding her famous "Halloween Parties." Neighbors and relatives attended in mandatory costumes.  I have a picture of the party attendees when I was eight years old (young).

Cousin Charlie Kraihanzel was a pirate.

Buddy Bob Case was Superman.

Cousin Tom Phillips and I were old ladies.

Cousin Wayne Phillips wore a mysterious costume.

Other cousins and neighbors wore all kinds of costumes, some of them receiving prizes for originality. 

See?  Gentle activity... no "tricks!"

Marjorie was a very inventive person, and besides the usual games like bobbing for apples, she developed the very scary "Ghost Walk."

Our house had a big dusty dark basement.  Marjorie, dressed as a Disney-style witch, placed lit candles and creepy pictures on the basement walls.

She then led all the kids to a spot where they could sit in a circle around her and watch her "show and tell" her "dead body collection."

She let the kids hold each item. Some of the very young children, like Cousin Wayne Phillips began to cry and had to be comforted.  

Marjorie's collection: (the light was dim)

Two large peeled grapes for eyes

Corn kernels for teeth.

A plum for a nose.

Lettuce for hair.

Boiled spaghetti for intestines.

Marjorie had a scary spiel for each item. 

We kids loved these parties that our beloved Aunt Marjorie prepared for us.

Last month, a dear friend of ours passed, Brenda Eaton. She and her husband, John, were neighbors in Randallstown, Maryland.  Brenda was very creative ... a lot like Aunt Marjorie. 

One Halloween, we sponsored a neighborhood party. Every one was to come in costume. Several couples said they might come late and after a while a costumed presence showed up.

Try as we might, no one could determine who this person was.  She was dressed as Bo Peep,

A half hour later a person dressed as a shepherd showed up.  Now we had two unknown costumed people to think about. We assumed they were a "couple" but which one of the six who hadn't appeared could it be?

When food was served, our mystery couple had to remove their makeup before they could eat, and so, they confessed. We then knew that this was John and Brenda Eaton.  

I've mentioned these two examples to show that one doesn't need "tricks" to have fun on Halloween.

In 1944 or earlier, someone thought up a way to eliminate those destructive Halloween "tricks." By appealing to kids' greed instincts.  If kids kept busy begging for candy, they would not have time to do bad things.  And ... it worked!

I show the year 1944, because that is when I found out about "Trick or Treat."  I was too shy to ask folks for candy, and I could no longer get kids to do "tricks" with me. But I did have fun celebrating Halloween in other (legal) ways.

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 RHYMES

I saw this online, but I don't know who wrote it:

"In popular music, lyrics are less important than the music.  Often the words of popular songs float past innocuously. Stringing together meaningless words that sound good together can be an effective strategy ... Bad lyrics can be a deal-breaker ... "

There are companies that will generate lyrics for you if you give them some keywords. I wonder if such lyrics rhyme.

If I gave them these keywords, what would it generate?

TWINKLE;  STAR;  WONDER

Maybe:

"I wonder if you are my best star, 

 Singing there in Hollywood.

If that makes you need to twinkle,

Go ahead and pee for me."

 ...........................................................

I grew up listening to "popular at the time" songs that had rhyming lyrics and now, if I don't detect a rhyming lyric for a "popular now" song, my stomach churns and I get grumpy.

An example of lyrics that irritate me, I give you part of the song " Who I AM" belted out by country singer Jessica Andrews in 2001:

"If I live to be a HUNDRED

And never see the seven WONDERS

That'll be all ri-ai-ai-ite

If I don't make it to the big LEAGUES

If I never win a GRAMMY

I'm gonna be just FINE

Cause I know exactly who I AM"

(My upper case bold spots .. not Bald Spots, you Rascal .. indicate for me where rhyming words should be.. IMHO.)

Later in the song she does get into some rhyming:

"I'm a saint and I'm a sinner

I'm a loser, I'm a winner

I am steady and unstable

I'm young and I am able"

Good work, Jessica.

This song that bugs me is used as an opening to the TV series "SUE THOMAS, FB EYE."  Elaine and I like to watch the show which we feel is a "cut above" the usual TV fare.  It is about an attractive deaf lady who becomes an FBI agent and lip-reads miscreants.

By the way, according to the Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes, there is more to Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star than you might have imagined:  Here are two verses of the five verse poem:

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, 

How I wonder what you are!

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

In the dark blue sky you keep.

And often through my curtains peep,

For you never shut your eye,

Til the sun is in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle little star, 

How I wonder what you are!" 

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Night, night!

SCRAPBOOK  STUFF 

I'm trying to close out some of my scrapbooks and I want to make sure that some collected "Stuff" is preserved in my blogs, before it is "lost" forever.

Here goes:

01.  KIDS!

Judy Steel writes:  "Having lost weight over the last few years,  I was discarding things from my wardrobe that no longer fit. My seven-year-old niece was watching as I held up a huge pair of slacks. 

'Wow,' I said, 'I must have worn these when I was 183.'  My niece looked puzzled, then asked, 'How old are you now?' "   

02. NEW BEDFORD AND WHALES:

I had somehow missed finding and reading Ahab's Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund.

"A tour de force imbued with Melville's spirit that at last supplies the 'soprano voice' for Moby Dick."

Maybe, but I doubt it.

03.  SUPER  PLANE

Kelly Johnson, Lockheed Aircraft Company genius was in the news again.  Having built the U2 Spyplane, he was now (1960's) planning to build "the greatest airplane of the 29th century."

Lockheed said "The technology was so far beyond anything known that we might as well have been designing commuter rocket service between the moon and the outer planets."

I wonder if "Super Plane" was ever built.

04.  NEW  BEDFORD LIBRARY MURALS

Early in the 20th century, New Bedford commissioned English artist Francis Davis Millet to paint whaling-style murals around the rotunda of the newly setup Free Public Library.

Armed with sketches and plans, the artist embarked on a trip to New Bedford.  The year was 1912, and the ship was named "Titanic."

The mural project was resurrected 90 years later by the WHALE Organization.

05.  TREPANNING

Even the cavemen knew that drilling holes in one's head relieved suffering.  (UGH!)

In 1345, the Italian Physician, Guido da Vigevano, prepared an illustrated anatomical treatise on trepanning for the use of his colleagues.  (UGH!)

If you have seen the TV serial, Royal Pains, you have probably seen the episode where Doctor Lawson performs trepanning, using a very large drill that was found in an oily garage. (UGH!)

06.  BREAKFAST  TREAT

Betty Jarosz likes molasses and writes: "On cold mornings, the molasses had to be warmed on the stove before it was usable. Our favorite treat was molasses melted together with bacon drippings, then poured over biscuits and pancakes.'

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Enough of this nonsense!

 NIEMAND  ASSOCIATES

I started working for the Social Security Administration (SSA) in 1960.  I was hired as a Benefits Analyst and worked in several capacities under that title for three years.  I loved my job.

For some reason that I couldn't figure out, I was selected to become a computer programmer.  Now I was working at another job that I learned to love.

In a few years a promotion opportunity occurred that I couldn't resist trying for. Even though I would hate to be leaving a job I loved, a promotion would give me more money to provide for my soon to be augmented family.  

To get that job, I had to compete with lots of other people in interviews and a very difficult test.  The test was called The Organization and Management Test which I "Ace'd."  

(I had thought while taking the test, "How would President Johnson answer this question?" I had met the President by "snotgrams" when I temporarily served in the "SSA Congressional Unit, and I did not like him.  But... following his presidency and noticing his likes and dislikes ... helped me with the test.)

(Do you think that was cheating?)

I got the job.

My new unit was involved in computerizing the punch card Social Security benefits program.  This was a massive job, taking many years.

The leader in the effort was Sid Nibali, a computer genius, and knowledgeable analyst on social programs. Sid went to Saudi Arabia for sometime, to develop their Social Security program.

Sid was a very hard worker.  Most of his children eventually came to work at SSA.  They were also hard workers, like their dad.  It was a pleasure for me to have a couple of Sid's children work for me when I was a Branch Chief.   

Sid was my idol. I followed his workday carefully.

Each morning after he had signed in, his secretary would put reams of important reading material in his in-basket, and during the day more would show up.  Sid would not leave work until he had taken action on every document.

His Section Chief, John W. handled all personnel activity. (Side note: John was a real nice guy but he felt that people avoided him and he had no good friends.  Somehow, he got the idea that people liked me and I had lots of friends.  He sought my advice.  

I recommended a book on the subject that he could buy and also gave him a copy of Dale Carnegie's great book: How to Win Friends and Influence People. He seemed happy about this and rewarded me with a nice cold bottle of New Bedford's Dawson's Beer. Where he found that I'll never know.) 

Like Sid, all the members of our programming staff had constantly filled In-Baskets.  The programmers seldom read any of it and just threw it into the waste basket. In addition, there were important documents that were not circulated below analysts' level.

Usually, the programmers had time to read while:

Waiting for "autocoder" sheets being turned into coded punch cards.

Waiting for punch cards to be used to generate programs and other information.

Waiting for tests to be run.

I thought that this was time that could be used to read incoming documents and books and learn new and exciting things. To emulate our Branch Chief, Sid. (A real nice guy, by the way.)

I started an experiment, I took all of my in-basket stuff (after I had read it, of course) and put it into a folder.  I also included an issue of a computer magazine that I subscribed to and added some "Programming Tips" that I copied from a library book.

I attached a "Buck Slip" (routing form) to the folder with the names of two of my buddies and sent it on its way.

My buddies seemed to like the folder bit, so I altered the routing slip to cover all of the programmers and analysts.  Nobody complained.

To have some fun, I labeled my readers "Niemand Associates, and made up one of my famous aliases, which became a constant presence on the folders.

Niemand in German means "nobody."

Alias: H.M. Niemand for:

Herman Melville Niemand (a nautical touch to coincide with another alias (nom de plume) which I use in the National Puzzlers League ... AHAB.

Niemand Associates became a "household name" at SSA.  In fact, it got quite popular after Niemand Associates took over a picnic arranged by a Government appointee and proclaimed it "Niemand Associates First Annual Picnic."

I still have pens inscribed with the group's name and current address.

Most of the members are either retired now or resting in peace.  We had a lot of fun with this and I think we finally increased our computer knowledge and lived up to Sid's example.

THEATER

When I was very young I dreamt about the time when the celluloid characters of movies would somehow be "atomized" and then be distributed to homes where they could be reconstructed in the middle of the room, where the viewers could watch them from any angle. 

That dream was somewhat realized with the advent in the 1950's of "Theater in the Round."  

In such a theater, the actors would perform on a round stage, surrounded on all sides by viewers.  This may have been tough on the  actors, but the public loved it.

In the last years of the 1950's, The Cape Cod Melody Tent opened in Hyannis, near the Kennedy Family Compound.  My wife and I tried to visit it every Saturday night.

All of the offerings were musical comedies that were Broadway hits we loved, such as:

Bye Bye Birdie

Bells Are Ringing

Guys and Dolls

Flower Drum Song

As "regulars" we were seated close to the stage.

UFO sightings were quite common back then and on our first Melody Tent visit we saw one on our way home.

It was a very dark evening, with a deep Cape Cod  fog laying over everything.  As we exited the bridge over the Cape Cod Canal, we saw it.  A large round object with encircling lights. We were astounded and kind of scared, but we continued on, drawn by curiosity.  The object got larger and larger until, suddenly, the dense fog lifted to reveal a giant water tower!

We moved to Maryland in 1960 and lost track of that theater.  I hope it survived.

Meanwhile, if you have a "helper" called Alexa, and if you want to hear the Broadway cast sing any of the shows I mentioned, just say for example:

"Alexa play the music from the Broadway musical 'Bells are Ringing.' "

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ENJOY!

MORE  RELIGIOUS  STUFF

Since its Sunday, I thought that it might be fun to talk about religious things again.

GREAT COURSES

My disks for the course entitled The Lives of Great Christians were unplayable because of large cracks. I will be contacting the company for replacements.

THE WEEK MAGAZINE ... REPORTS FROM 2016

01.  Traffic Stops

An Indiana State Trooper pulled speeders over and asked what church they attended and whether or not they had been "saved," and if they had no religious ties, he would preach to them about Jesus.

02.  Pope meets Internet

Pope Francis initiated an Instagram account.  Look for "Franciscus  with a tagline "Pray for me."

03.  Escape

When polygamist Lyle Jeffs didn't show up for a trial, his lawyer suggested that he might have "experienced the miracle of Rapture,"

04.  Looking Up

Brazilian researchers revealed that Michelangelo secretly included views of female genitalia in his Sistine Chapel paintings.

SACRED  ETYMOLOGY

Astrophysicist Adam Frank wrote for The Nation back in 2009:

"If you trace the etymology of 'sacred' you'll see it's related to the architecture of Roman temples. The 'sacer' was the domain inside the temple, where you met the gods.

So the sacred was the inside, and the profane was the outside of the temple,  where you sold your walnuts or whatever. 

It's this sense that we have, that we sometimes encounter -- or the sacred erupts into our lives -- this sense of the world being wholly  other than our profane and everyday experience. You just suddenly notice how weird everything is, or HOW BEAUTIFUL"

FOREST  FIRE

A while ago, lightning strikes caused a forest fire in Florida.  Two Churchmen commented on the event.

01.  Our friend, Pat Robertson said that the fires were an "Act of God" designed to punish Florida for supporting Gay Rights."

02.  John McTernan, minister and founder of Cops for Christ stated:

"Actions by a people or country will trigger God's judgement on a nation. A nation gets what it deserves. As in Florida -- that wasn't wanton destruction.  That was a warning.  As for the lightning bolt, sometimes its real obvious what will get God upset and sometimes its not. He's got certain issues that really get Him steamed: abortion, homosexuality, pornography."

I wonder what kind of communication method these guys use to talk to God,

............................................................................................

 

  

 TALK

I have about 100 books on my Kindle and am in the middle of most of them.  I get interested in one, read a bunch of it, and then a different book comes along and captures that attention. That has been the way I operate, and have done so for years.

So, when I encountered the book I will be talking about, I put my other books "on hold" while I "consumed" its contents.  

The book is titled Idiot America by Boston Globe writer Charlie Pierce.  I will try to cover just a small part of Charlie's book.

Early in its existence, AM Radio was devoted to entertainment.  Later, Pop Music took it over.  Later still, guys "selling snake oil" realized that talking about their product on AM Radio earned them lots of money from the gullible. Even later, politicians, so-called pundits and "the like" saw that as a way to lie to those same gullible listeners.

Mr. Pierce mentions Professor Andrew Cline of Washington University in Saint Louis who studied the situation and "came up with a set of rules that may be followed by modern American pundits,

1.  Never be dull.

2.  Embrace willfully ignorant simplicity.

3.  The American public is stupid;  treat them that way.

4.  Always ignore the facts and public record when it is convenient to do so."

(I'm sure we can all come up with the name of someone who once held high office, adhered to such rules, and continues to do so.)

Millions of Americans believe what they hear on AM Radio, and it is also usually the source of "crap" that passes as "real news," while dismissing "true news" as "fake news."  This has to be bad for our democracy.

I have my ideas as to how to change this situation:

01.  Bring back the "decency rules" for all types of radio.

02.  "Kill" all of those poisonous radio and television shows that "plug" baseless theories and glorify "fearless leaders."

03   Bring back "true" radio entertainment like:   

          The Jack Benny Show

          The Fred Allen Show

           You Bet Your Life

           Dragnet

           The Twilight Zone

           The Shadow

04.  Allow only "fact-based" news to be broadcast.

Congress would only laugh at such suggestions, but someday they may be put into effect.

Now I need to continue reading "Idiot America"  ... until some other book captures my interest.

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 LOVE STORY!

1941

Elaine, 4-year-old chorus girl learning to tap dance.

To her mother, in French: 

"Mama, will I get married?"

"Yes, my darling, when you are older."

"Can I marry Joe from my dance class?" 

"We'll see when the time comes."

Joe, a 7-year-old tap dance leader.

To his Aunt Marjorie, in English:

"I really like Elaine.  Do you think that she would give me a kiss someday?"

"We'll see when the time comes."

1951

Joe meets Elaine at a New Bedford Teen Stroll.

Joe asks Elaine for a date.  Elaine says:  "Yes!"

Later she tells her friend Jean: "That's the boy I'm going to marry."

1956

Joe was home from Germany and took Elaine out on a date. He didn't have "wheels" yet, so he was about to help Elaine get on a bus to go home.

She had been making lots of comments about marriage life, but Joe didn't think that he was ready, and as she started to get on the bus, Joe said "If we get married ..."  But his tongue slipped and he said "When we get married..."  Elaine immediately yelled" "I do!" and jumped on the bus.  She had caught Joe and they became a happily married couple for over 40 years.

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 A  HORSE'S  WHAT?

Some of you may have visited Massachusetts' Horseneck Beach. It is contained within a 600 acre combination of wetland, bird sanctuary and long sandy beach areas, open to the public, and free if you cycle in. Part of the lure of the beaches is their opening to Buzzard's Bay and through that body of water, to the surf of the Atlantic Ocean.  Another feature of the beach is the large number of inviting sand dunes.

When I was a child, I would ask to be driven along the Ocean Road which paralleled miles of the pristine sandy beach.  On the side of the road across from the beach, were hundreds of little summer cottages,  interspersed, at short periods with vendors selling stuffed quahogs, fish and chips, and ice cold Dawson's beer.  The smells were overpowering.  My nose remembers them even though a whole lot of time has gone by.

Eight-year-old Joe Vaughan and his buddy, Casey, would often cycle out to the beach and cool our feet in the cold ocean water.  On the way, we would always pick a free lunch of Concord grapes that grew all along the roadside.

This idyllic life was shattered in September of 1938, when a rogue hurricane (no names for storms back then) blew in at high tide, unexpectedly, and destroyed every bit of the man-made buildings. No more summer cottages!  No more delicious stuffed quahogs! Mother Nature had reasserted herself.

 Several years later, I was taking the summer break from Boston University.  I had recently married and realized this might be a good time to make some money, which we needed.  I searched around, but no jobs were to be had.  I finally asked my State Representative (Al) to see if there might be some temporary job I could do for the summer.  I had been friends with Al when he was a "regular" at the YMCA where I worked. I didn't expect anything, but I felt "it was worth a shot."

A couple of days later, I got a letter from a Massachusetts office, ordering me to go to a location at 6 am.. "tomorrow," and begin work on a summer job, for which I would be paid $54 each week. (This was a decent salary at that time.)  I was happy. 

I joined fellow workers at the pick-up site and was transported on the back of a truck to the work site.  My fellow workers were mainly men of Portuguese descent, who had trouble with English, and a couple of college students like me.

The work site was the former Horseneck Beach.  Our task was to dig through the largest sand dunes and extract anything of value from the houses that may be underneath.  Our foreman was a 50-year-old guy with a (kind of) British accent.  Some of his instructions to us remained a mystery.

His main instruction was "Dig out all the dee bris!"

We eventually discovered that he wasn't asking us to look for remnants of a ritual circumcision, but rather the debris that might be under the sand, and there was plenty.  We dug out appliances, beds, tables, framed pictures, and lots of family memorabilia.

The Portuguese-speaking members of our crew were delighted when we found toilet bowls.  They would dig them up and carry them out to the road, to be retrieved after work.

I was continually surprised and amazed at the house remnants that we dug up.  After their 20-year burial they looked "brand new."

When our temporary job was finished, we could see that about twenty of the formerly high dunes were now flat.  And, I think that was all the digging that would be done, and the other dunes would remain as is, part of a renewed fun area for Massachusetts residents.

...................................................................................

. 

 THE  NOT-SO-DEEP  SOUTH

The following true story was published in Creative Expressions for 2011.  The author? Why, that was me of course.

The year 2010 was the 50th anniversary of my migration to Maryland.   In 1960, I passed a very hard test and was offered a job at the Social Security Administration in Baltimore.

To clinch the deal, two recruiters came up to my home in Massachusetts to ask me some important questions.

One was "What do you think of the Orioles?" and the other was  "What do you think of the Colts?" I thought they were talking about birds and horses.  Since I, of course, liked those creatures, I answered "They're great!"  (I got the job.)

Relatives and friends told us that since Maryland was below the Mason-Dixon line, we would be going to the sunny South and would not need to take winter clothes. (So we didn't.)

It was fifty degrees when we started our drive to Maryland.  As we went south, the weather seemed to get colder instead of warmer.  When we arrived, it was 28 degrees and snowing,  (Somebody had obviously lied to us.)

Starving and cold after our long trip, we brightened up when we saw a building with an enormous sign that read:  Hamburgers.  Sliding into a tight parking place, we got ourselves ready for a fast food feast.  As we entered the store, we noticed lots of men's jackets, suits and ties,  It was a famous Baltimore haberdashery and not a restaurant,  (So we bought some sweaters.)

Still hungry, we discovered a tiny funny little shop that sold tiny funny little cheeseburgers.  We found out that this was a Baltimore delicacy.  (We learned to love those tiny funny little things.)

After our trip, it did not take long for us to get acclimated and love the friendly people of Maryland. (Especially those in Carroll County.)

........................................................

 HEY!  CABBIE! 

During my last year at Boston University (BU), my wife worked very hard as a waitress in order to pay for my tuition and books, and to qualify for a BU PhT.  (PhT was an honorary degree conferred by BU on wives who helped their student husbands finish their BU  education.  PhT stood for PUTTING HUBBY THROUGH.) Unfortunately the honorary degree was discontinued in the year that I graduated.

I was traveling by bus the 50 mile trip to Boston every day and that bus ride time was used for study and sleep. (Mostly sleep.)

I was home in the evenings and I decided to get a night job so that my wages could augment those of my wife... and we were kind of poor then and needed extra income.  

It might be fun to remember that night job.  Here goes!

WHAT  JOB  DID YOU HAVE?

Cab driver in New Bedford, Massachusetts.  Six nights a week from 5:30 pm to 9:30 pm (or much later), driving a bright yellow cab. Getting calls from a dispatcher or picking up folks yelling for a ride.

WHAT  WAS  YOUR  COMPENSATION?

Drivers got a very small percentage of the fare that people paid.  Tips were necessary in order to make any kind of a living  from driving a cab.

A "good" night for me was when I made $10. ($2.50 per hour.)  But it was better than nothing and did help pay our bills.

WHY DIDN'T YOU MAKE  MORE MONEY?

01.  I ferried a blind lady to her many evening Doctors' appointments.  She had no money, so I didn't charge her.

02.  Quite often, I received a call from a bartender asking me to pick up my alcoholic relative who was passed out.  I took him home and got him into his house.  No charge.

03.  Some people did not believe in "tipping."

04.  The two dispatchers received nightly gifts from a "cut-throat" driver and "good" jobs were usually sent his way, rather than to the other drivers.  A quart of booze for one dispatcher and a package of expensive cigars for the other were good "insurance" for this scumbag.

WHO WERE YOUR CO-WORKERS?

01. "Dirty Vaughan," a distant relative.  His cab was always dusty and dirty, as was he himself.  I was known as "Clean Vaughan." My cab was always cleaned after a job, especially after I drove "Fish Mary."  (More about her later.)

02.  Eddie M., another distant relative who had a special "claim to fame."  The trunk of his cab was filled with bottles of cheap whiskey, cheep beer, and items requested by "horny" customers.  He made quite a living selling his products to semi-drunk riders after all the bars had closed.  (For instance, he might sell a quart of "rotgut" that he had paid one dollar for, to a client for a ten dollar bill.)

03.  Manny 1, who always had his girlfriend in the cab with him as he went out on calls. After he dropped off each customer, he and his girlfriend would disappear for a half hour or more.  I think that he was the guy who told one dispatcher: "If my wife calls, tell her I'm busy on a job."

04.  Bill, who was a very pungent homeless guy. He lived and slept in one of the cabs.

05.  Clark, the skinny dispatcher who got a gift of booze each evening. He managed to get "stone-assed" drunk every night, but was there the next evening, shaking, but able to do his nefarious  job.

06.   Manny 2, the fat dispatcher who received his cigar gift each evening and proceeded to smoke one and stink up the station.  He sometimes would tell us how he had stolen his older brother's birth date and had fooled Social Security into giving him benefits even though he was actually years younger than required.

DID YOU EVER HAVE ANY INTERESTING EXPERIENCES WHILE DRIVING A CAB?

01.  I had lots of interesting experiences.  A medium-sized city like New Bedford appears to close down after eleven pm, but a whole new life opens up after that -- and I'll bet that most citizens have no idea  about what is happening while they sleep. 

02.  I drove lots of fishermen from bar to bar after they came in from a year stint of fishing in the prolific waters of George's Bank.  Usually they were happy drunks and good tippers.

However, one day I got a call to pick up a drunk Norwegian fisherman.  When I arrived, the fisherman decided that he didn't want to leave, so he yelled something in his native tongue and "sucker-punched" me in the solar plexus.  This caused me physical pain for years and made me be careful when I had to handle drunks.

03.  One of my customers was called "Fish Mary," a Portuguese-American "lumper."  In fact, I think she was the only female lumper on the East Coast. (A "lumper" is a person who jumps down into a fishing boat's hold and shovels out the writhing mass of slippery fish. Somebody has to do it.)

I was one of the few drivers who could understand enough of her Portuguese instructions to get her where she wanted to go.  She seemed to like me and always looked for my cab when she was done with her daily job.

Alas, there were no shower facilities on Pier Three, so she had to ride in my cab while wearing her work overalls and boots.   This meant that when she disembarked, I had the task of clearing out the fish smell as well as vacuuming up pieces of seaweed and fish bones.  This was why they called me "clean Vaughan," because extra cleaning was necessary on an almost daily basis.

Some times Mary would be accompanied by a pretty young granddaughter.  Years later I read that some people thought that she was involved in the famous "Big Dan" case.  That may or may not have been true, but it makes for interesting conjecture.

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Driving a cab in my hometown did not make me rich, but it gave me lots to think about.

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 EASTER  EVENT

For several years we would travel to Spartanburg, South Carolina at Easter time to visit with good friends.  During our visits, we would accompany our friends to Easter Mass at a local Catholic Church.

On special occasions, a certain elderly priest usually gave a rather long-winded homily, exhorting parishioners to emulate Jesus and his teachings.  Said parishioners dreaded these times because the priest would drone on and on; but as good Catholics, they would suffer through 45 minute sermons that seemed to go on forever.

At a recent Easter mass, the church was crowded with people who had fortified themselves with a lot of black coffee in order to help them through the forthcoming sermon ordeal.

When the time came, the priest got up to the lectern, glanced at the audience, smiled, said loudly: "HE'S BACK!", and sat down, his homily over,

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HOW  ABOUT  A  TRIM?

As a cryptologist for 18 months in Germany, I learned a lot from our British counterparts.  Here is one example:  Early in World War Two, Britain had a working decryption unit.  The cryptologists there were taxed with reading a rather boring manual.  It was noted that some of these experts never even opened the document, even though "upper crust" management felt that they needed to read some of the important information contained within its covers.

To change that situation, someone thought of a simple solution.  Pictures of naked ladies were issued, to be mixed in with the information to be read by the cryptographers, and similar pictorial updates were issued on a periodic basis.  It worked!  (Or so they said.) At least it got personnel eager to open, and perhaps even read, the manual and its updates.

Many years later, when I was the Branch Chief of an organization that provided miles of data to make Social Security a more meaningful resource for our aging population, I was issued 30 copies of something called "The Trim Manual." (I don't remember what the acronym stood for. Perhaps: "To Record Important Material."  All of the Branch personnel received a copy, which, incidentally, was created by a favorite co-worker named Bob Crum. 

I soon noticed what my British friends noticed many years before -- nobody even opened their document.  So, I decided to follow the Brits' example and get sex involved.

I had lots of pictures copied of ladies in skimpy bathing suits (no nudes in the USA) and had a mixture inserted into the Trim manual of each of my male programmers.  So as to not to be chastised as a sexist person, I had pictures of body-builders in "tights" placed in the manuals of my female programmers.  I called these altered manuals "The Macintosh Edition."  I don't know why.

My staff loved their "Macintosh" editions, and maybe it caused a few of them to use their manuals. Over the years, we received new Trim manuals and I didn't pretty them up as before. But I continued to use  the manual's guidance to help me manage the hundreds of programs that my experts produced. (I kept one copy of the "Macintosh" manual.. its stuck in a box of memorabilia.)

Because I was a constant user of the Trim system to control programs successfully, I was called on often to explain how it was used. .

One day, Social Security Upper Management asked me to brief two Oriental gentlemen on the uses of our Trim system. I was told that Mr. Won and Mr. Tieu (no "Cat in the Hat?") were from either Laos, Cambodia, Korea, or Viet Nam and they spoke excellent English.

I met these gentlemen and proceeded with my spiel.  After a few minutes I noticed that Mr. Won and Mr. Tieu were getting restless and had glassy eyes.  Yes, they didn't know what the hell I was talking about.  I decided that I should stop talking and just show them the tracking forms outlined in the Trim manual.

BINGO!  Now they had some forms to copy and bring home like trophies, which was really just what they wanted in the first place.  I'll bet that copies of our Trim forms are still being used in whatever country these guys came from.

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BELIEVE  IT  OR  NOT  ..  IT'S TRUE

This story has a lot of angles, so it needs a list of characters: (some names have been changed)

Baby Christopher

Beth and Diane, beautiful daughters of Joe and Elaine

Elaine, Joe's wife and Christopher's mother

Father Bruce, 25 year-old handsome priest

Florence, pretty 19 year-old baby sitter for Joe and Elaine's children

Jacqui, Mike's wife, good friend of Elaine and a good Catholic

Joe, Elaine's husband and Chris' father (not a Catholic)

Maria, the Housekeeper for the Randallstown Priest's residence

Mike, Jacqui's husband and a TV Union executive

Rex, an enormous German Shephard belonging to Father Bruce

It was late December and the snow was starting to  cover the sidewalks when Elaine asked her husband, Joe (namely, me) to perform an errand.  Elaine and I had married some time ago, and we were the proud parents of two beautiful daughters, Beth and Diane.  

Since I was brought up as a Protestant, the "marrying priest" insisted that I bring up any children as Catholics.  I agreed, with my fingers crossed, and after childhood, we allowed our kids to practice any (or none) religion that made sense to them.

However, because of her "original sin" teachings, Elaine wanted her children to be baptized right after birth.  This was easy to have done foe Beth and Diane because I worked with a friendly priest at the Social Security Administration and he was eager to help us in that regard.

Now, we were living in Randallstown, Maryland, and we had never connected with that town's Holy Family Catholic Church, although we had signed the girls up for Catechism Class to start in the Spring.  Elaine wanted me to contact a priest and arrange for the baptism of our newly born baby boy.

There was a large brick house next to the church and I figured that must be where the priests lived.  I pressed the doorbell and was greeted by a lady in dark clothes. I asked to talk to a priest and was told this was a home for nuns.  She also gave me a mini lesson on the separation of sexes, based on some "Council of..." or other.  She gave me a Carroll County address, pointed towards that area and off I went, slipping and sliding through the now heavier snow fall.

I found the modestly shingled Priests' Home and shaking the ice and snow off my boots, knocked on the door (no doorbell.)  Immediately, the door was opened by Maria, the priests' housekeeper. (Now, this is a part that some folks say could not have taken place, but I assure you it did.)

As I was opening my mouth to speak, a gigantic German Shephard ran out of the door and locked its thick jaws around my right forearm.  This felt like a "death grip" to me as Maria said: "You ain't Catholic are you?"

I squeaked out a "no!" as a priest, I later learned was Father Bruce, suddenly appeared in a bright yellow T-shirt.  He said some magic word and the dog loosened its grip and allowed me to be free.  When my nerves calmed down, we discussed infant baptism and Father Bruce agreed to do what was required.

From time to time Father Bruce would disappear and show up at peace rallies and Freedom Marches in Alabama and Mississippi.  Because this was dangerous, our good friends Jacqui and Mike arranged for him to have a protective guard dog that could accompany him on his excursions.  That dog was the one that had gripped me.  His name was Rex.

Meanwhile, our pretty young babysitter, Florence, agreed to include baby Christopher in her baby-sitting duties.  Florence was the first daughter in a family of eleven siblings and she knew how to do household chores.

When we would come home from a night out, we would find the kids sleeping in their beds, the dishes washed and put away, clothing washed and dried and ironed (even the handkerchiefs), rugs vacuumed, toys all picked up and put away, leftover food packed and put in the refrigerator, and other jobs for which we were grateful.  In addition, she always showed up early for her jobs, usually long before the time to start.

And ,,, the kids loved her.

One Saturday night she didn't show up. Even her fellow family members didn't know where she was.  This was so unlike Florence. We suspected foul play.

However, on the next morning we learned what had happened to Florence.

That rascally handsome Father Bruce had been secretly wooing the irresistible Florence, and they had eloped on Saturday and had a "quickie" marriage in Elkton, Maryland.  On Sunday, Bruce, no longer a "father," made an obscene gesture towards the Catholic Church and the couple disappeared with their guard dog Rex into the bowels of Mississippi.

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A  TRUE  RELIGIOUS  STORY

I don't want to offend anyone, but I love religion and like to tell religious stories. So, here's one:

01.  PHIL

Phil worked for me at the Social Security Administration. He was a handsome guy especially when he wasn't wearing his glasses.  In fact, he reminded everyone of those Sunday School pictures of Jesus.  You remember, a nice looking Caucasian with shiny blue eyes and neatly trimmed hair, mustache and beard. 

Phil usually spent his break-time exercising; walking up and down the cement stairs in the back part of the Operations Building.  A few other employees did the same.  One of them was named Ellen, a very sensitive person who spent a lot of time with therapists.

It was Good Friday and both Phil and Ellen were at work. As luck would have it, they both took their morning breaks at the same time and were doing their separate and opposite stair climbing exercises when they met at a half-way point. Ellen screamed:  "It's Jesus!" and fainted.

An ambulance carried her away and she wasn't seen at work for a few weeks.

YMCA 101

In a classic Amos and Andy show Andy asked The Kingfish where he stayed while in Chicago.  The Kingfish said that he had stayed at the "Imka Hotel."  That was a translation for "The YMCA."

The New Bedford, Massachusetts YMCA was also a "hotel," where one could get a clean room for a good night's sleep.  No amenities, but, "so what?"  

The building was erected in 1888 and was patterned after somebody's castle in England.  It had 3 stories and a basement, with lots of secret rooms and hidden passages.  The perfect place for Joe Vaughan and his buddy Casey to explore and feed their imaginations.

I worked there for four years while I attended High School.  But long before then, we kids had a great time in this marvelous building.  Let's step through the space, floor by floor, starting at the top.

Casey and I found a hidden staircase on the 3rd floor.  It led to a smooth flat space on the roof, where we would spread out big YMCA towels on hot summer days and lie, naked, contentedly, in the sun, "toasting our buns." 

One Summer, we thought we saw someone in a taller building using binoculars to check us out.  We decided to begin wearing our bathing suits to avoid arrest for indecent exposure.

Bob Hastings, the physical director, had an office on the 3rd floor, outside of which was a pool table without pockets.  I couldn't figure that out, but Casey was an expert at this game that didn't need pockets. It was called "Kelly Pool," and he would beat me at that game for hours.  He had learned how to play all kinds of pool as a "setup kid" at a local pool hall.

Nearby was one of those hidden rooms that overlooked the "upper gym."  We could squat down there and watch all the basket ball games through "peep holes."

We avoided the second floor because that was where Mr. Favor, the Director, had his office.

The first floor was a remarkable place for young kids. There was one area that contained several regulation size pool tables (you know, the ones with pockets.)   There was always a line of guys waiting their turn to play. I liked to play, but I was that strange kid, the one who would rather lose than win.

Another area contained nothing but a massive grand piano.  

Another area served as a library of action type novels, like "SHE" by H. Rider Haggard, my favorite exciting read.

An elderly gentleman smoking a Meerschaum pipe  perpetually stuck in his teeth was always lurking around, to make sure that non-members took out memberships, or were sent away.  Luckily for us kids, the membership dues were quite small.

At one end of the first floor was a little store where one could buy tobacco, soap, towels and combs at inflated prices.

In the middle were doors leading to the "lower" gym.

At the other end was a door opening to a stairs leading down to the basement.  The door was controlled by a buzzer in the capable hands of the pipe-smoking man.

After being properly "buzzed," one walked down to the basement area that contained:

A massage spa run by a blind man.

A locker room. 

A caged area that held valuables, members' workout clothing and smelly sneakers, a washing machine, a spin dryer, and a constantly playing radio. 

A battery of showers.

A swimming pool for naked guys.

A toilet area that had to be kept illuminated so that hundreds of cockroaches and water bugs did not attack the user.

As I  mentioned somewhere else, a set of stairs leading from the pool to the "lower" gym.

(That reminds me:

Peggy Kirkwood was a second cousin and an impetuous artist with great skill.  At one time when I was working at the YMCA, she talked me into having a non-romantic lunch with her on a Saturday noon-time.

I got ready to leave for our lunch and as I came out of the cage area in the locker room, I noticed that someone was peeking out from behind a big locker.  Looking closer, I saw that it was Peggy, busily sketching the naked guys getting in and out of the shower.  Peggy had never had so many "real life" models for her art work and was in proverbial "Seventh Heaven."

Apparently, she had bribed the pipe smoker with Balkan Sobrani tobacco, and he had "buzzed" her down to the locker room.

Peggy had heard that I was working at a place where there were lots of naked men and planned to see and sketch them, using a lunch-time date with me as a ploy. (oy!)

Peggy went on to a long and productive life, and died just as I was about to contact her.  I wanted to find out about other stunts she may have perpetrated during this long life,)

Somewhere in this massive building were the 20 simple rooms that made up the New Bedford YMCA Hotel.

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If you are still awake... I will be blogging YMCA 102 shortly. It will contain stories about some interesting folks I interacted with during my 4 year employment at that marvelous organization.

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URINARY TRACKS 

Two stories, one funny and one gross.

FUNNY

Over four years ago, Readers Digest published the following story that they obtained from cnet.com. It was so good that I would like to share it with you if you hadn't read it then.

"So how's everything going?" the doctor asks his patient, George.

"Great," says George, "I've found religion.  God knows that I have poor eyesight, so he's fixed it so that when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom -- poof! -- the light goes on, and then -- poof! -- the light goes off when I'm done."

Later in the day, the doctor calls George's wife. "I'm in awe of George's relationship with God," he says. "is it true that he gets up during the night and -- poof! -- the light goes on in the bathroom, and then  -- poof! --  the light goes off?"

George's wife sighs. "no," she says.  "It means he's peeing in the refrigerator again!"

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GROSS

My grandfather lived in a small country town in Massachusetts when he was a teen-ager. There was no TV at the time, and no radio or movies, so they had to improvise when it came to entertainment.

Grandpa formed a "boys only" club around the turn of the century (1800 changed to 1900).  To join the club, a boy had to agree to the initiation ceremony.

A blindfold was applied and then one-by-one each prior member would urinate in the initiate's pockets.  They had a name for this procedure.  It was called "Pee More Yet."

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I wish my grandfather had never told me about this!

Some folks liked this joke, so I'm reissuing it.

CONNIE'S BEST NAUGHTY JOKE

Connie Strohecker was a "mainstay" of the Carroll County, Maryland AARP Chapter.  She arranged for very popular trips to interesting places, often adding from her own funds to make sure we always traveled first class.

She also arranged the trip prices so that they were not a financial problem for the attendees and would still have money left over for the AARP Chapter treasury.

When I was Chapter President and when we had enough money, Connie arranged for representatives from various Senior Citizens  organizations to join Chapter members in ceremonies where large donations were given to help them address aging issues,

Connie did lots of other altruistic things and I was about to nominate her for the Maryland Senior Citizens Hall Of Fame (MSCHF) when she passed away. She was in her late 90's

Connie usually had lots to say at meetings and often she would end her remarks by telling slightly risque jokes and anecdotes. Here is a joke that she loved to tell, and we members loved to hear:

Wife: "Could you fix the leaking faucet?

Husband: "No, do you see 'Plumber' written on my forehead?"

Wife: "Well then, could you please mow the lawn today?"

Husband:  "No, do you see 'Landscaper' written on my forehead?"

Wife: "Well, how about at least fixing the broken step on the stairs?"

Husband:  "Do you see 'Carpenter' written on my forehead?  I'm going out for a beer."

Four hours later, the husband comes home and notices that some things have been fixed.  He asks "how?"

Wife : "Well, a nice young handsome man knocked at the door while you were gone and offered to fix the faucet, mow the lawn, and fix the broken step."

"After he was done, I asked him how I could pay him for the jobs."

"He told me, 'You could bake me a cake or sleep with me.' "

Husband: "What kind of cake did you bake him?"

Wife:  "Do you see 'Baker' written on my forehead?"

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Enjoy!

  

 DREI  PERSONEN

In my decades as a Branch Chief or Staff Director at the Social Security Administration, lots of people came under my control.  As an "enlightened manager" I tried to treat everyone equally and help them make the most of their abilities.  

Many of my workers had personal problems that I tried to fix, without being intrusive. Some times I was successful, some times not, but always I hoped that they learned from my actions, because I always tried to learn something from my interactions with them.

For example, here are little stories about three special people with whom  I had special interaction:

Jane

Jane was a very attractive young lady who came to work for me. She was also an NCO in the Air Force Reserve.

She wrote a few computer programs before she was "activated" to serve 18 months in Italy.  While there, she mailed me Italian crossword puzzle books and scenic postcards.

When she became a civilian again, she began work in a different Branch.  However, from time to time she would visit me to talk about technical matters.

One day, she seemed very depressed and told me it was because she was getting "older" but still did not have a man in her life.

Later, to try to cheer her up, I sent her a humorous "Thinking of you" card that held a picture of a strikingly handsome man with the caption: "This is a picture of your future husband."  She thanked me and said: "Yeah, sure!"  

I forgot about our exchange until, a year later I received a letter from Jane with a picture of her new husband, who looked exactly like the man in my card!

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Nancy

Nancy was an "outside hire" who came to me as a programmer/analyst, grade 12.  She insisted that she should be at least a Grade 14.  

She was a pleasant looking  mother of a daughter and a pair of twins. She belonged to a "Twins Organization."  Her husband was a writer for a Government Department, where he was allowed to work towards a PhD.  Sounds like a nice little family group.

At work, Nancy did not like her assignments; she felt they were beneath her ability.  So, she filed for a different tech job in a neighboring Branch; that job wasn't a good fit, so she said, and she filed for, and got a different job, and so on and on.  She seemed never happy.

One day she didn't show up for work, and then disappeared for a week.  Her husband notified the police and a "hunt" was instituted. After another week went by, a tearful husband walked into a police station and confessed to strangling his wife because of family disputes.  He led them to a car in the BWI Airport parking lot.  Nancy's body was lying in the back seat, covered with a blanket.

I went to Nancy's funeral.  Lots of twins and their parents were there to pay their respects.  I stayed after the service to put in my "2 cents" that the twins would not stay under the control of their father.  Thankfully, the twins were put under the control of grandparents. 

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Harry Lawson (not his real name)

Harry went through the same computer programming classes that I did.  Eventually, he drifted into my Branch.

Just as he was about to do some programming for me, a fellow Branch Chief asked if Harry could write a program for him. I said: "OK."  Harry was handed the necessary information and told to have the program running in 3 months.

In between the pedicure sessions he did himself on the desk in his cubicle, he appeared to be hard at work.  Nobody checked until the 3 months period was up.

This was the conversation between the manager and Harry:

Manager:  "Did the program run ok?"

Harry:  "Well, I didn't quite make it that far."

Manager:  "Did your tests run well?"

Harry:  "I didn't make it that far."

Manager:  "Do your compiler results look good?"

Harry: "Don't have any."

Manager:  Have you submitted your punch cards?"

Harry:  "Don't have any."

Manager:  "Have you had your autocoder sheets punched up?"

Harry: "Not yet."

Manager: "Well then, can I see your flow charts?" 

Harry: "Don't have any yet."

Manager: "Argggghhh!!"

So, there it was.  A non-working programmer, whom I was still stuck with for a while.

As I said, I like to interact with my workers.  If I can't do that, I like to figure out what I can learn from all others.  For instance, some of my workers give me technical lessons; some teach me computer tricks; some tell me about favorite books or movies... my brain is like a towel soaking up information all the time.

I thought and thought about Harry and what he could possibly tell or teach me that would enrich my life.  Surely everyone must have some wisdom to impart.

After a few weeks it hit me.  Harry had something that would solve a problem for me and help my brain to expand:  His name!

All of my life, I have used the left-hand faucet to get cold water.  However, I kept getting hot scalding water instead. But now I knew and would never forget Harry and the initials of his name:  HL for Harry Lawson!  I could stop being scalded by the left-hand faucet because I would always remember Harry's initials:

                 Hot Left!

Thank you, Harry.

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TEN  DIE !  HUH?

When my son, Chris was 9 years old, he liked to visit his friend Greg  in Pennsylvania, where they played a game named what  sounded to me like "Ten Die."

Rolling their eyes, they corrected this old guy's ignorance by saying the game was " 'tend I."  As a tired old dud, it took me a little time to learn how the phrase was used, for example:

A sissified child might say: "Let us pretend that I am able to fly."

A "regular kid" might say: " 'tend I can fly."

Oh! Pretend!  Kids had imaginations back then!

When I was around 7 years old, my favorite radio show was "Let's Pretend." Every Saturday at 11 am, I would enter my Aunt Marjory's pink bedroom, lie down on her pink covered bed and stare at her pink little radio, as I listened to Tony Randall and other "Let's Pretend" characters tell stories that caused exciting pictures to roll around in my brain. 

Radio fed kids' imaginations!

Himan Brown (1911 - 1910) was a famous creator, producer and director of many of the famous radio shows, such as Dick Tracy, Inner Sanctum, The Thin Man, Grand Central Station and the CBS Radio Mystery Theater.  ( I know,  most of these shows probably aired before you were born.)

Himan loved radio!

In 1993, he made a speech about radio that I would like to quote. 

"Of all the forms of theater, radio drama commands the most effective stage.  No medium -- not theater, not film, not television -- has more sheer space in  which to achieve the basic goal of drama, of telling a story.

... radio plays itself out in boundless space ... the listener's mind ... YOUR mind. 

...  a radio show has listeners, a television show has viewers. Listening is an activity. Viewing is an event. Today's discoverers of radio, when they can find it, are discovering they can be there on the deck with Captain Ahab, riding bareback behind Heathcliff on the moor, begging for more with Oliver Twist, disappearing down the hole with Alice.  

Name me, if you can, a little boy or girl who has not begged, over and over, 'Tell me a story.'  Not tell me a story in stereo or in color, 'just tell me a story!'"

Mr. Brown would have loved podcasts.

(By the way, WAMU radio plays "Old Time Radio" each week for 4 hours.)

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dit dah  dit dah dit

("That's all she wrote," in radio's Morse Code.)

FRANKENTRIP

After a chilly 18 month assignment at the Pruem RADAR Station at a mountain area called the Schnee-Eifel, I was pleased to get orders to report to a warmer outfit near Nuremberg (American spelling) in Bavaria.

However I was ordered to arrange for my own move to that location.  Luckily, I would not have to resort to the back of trucks, buses and trains, because I had my own transportation. A veteran of the recent  World War; a decommissioned and overhauled U,S, Army Jeep, painted bright green, with a roof to offer some protection from the "elements."  I loved that little vehicle, and used it, whenever the snow was not too deep, to travel around north-west Germany.

I located my Jeep by looking for its long antenna poking above the snowdrifts in the Motor Pool.  As was usual, I shoveled a pathway toward a "road" that had been plowed.  Mr. Jeep was now free again.

 I did not need a key; I just turned on the ignition and the Jeep started right up and purred like a satisfied pussy cat. I was almost ready to travel to my new assignment.

I had decided that I would travel on "by-ways" rather than on the Autobahn, because Mr. Jeep could not keep up to the 100 Miles Per Hour speed limit.  I tried it once, got a flat at 80 MPH, and almost tipped over.  My Jeep was happiest at 30 mph.

I loaded my Personal Effects footlocker and the heavy footlocker that held all of my vinyl records and player.  After filling my tank with "slightly watered" gasoline, I happily began my 300 mile trip south.

As I drove, it got darker and darker and I got very tired.  It was no longer safe for me to drive, so I pulled off on the road side, rolled up my windows and fell asleep.  After what must have been a long sleep time, I had a very realistic dream.

I dreamt that I was Dr. Frankenstein's monster, and I heard those immortal words: "It's alive! It's alive!"  Then I heard the peasants yelling for my destruction and threatening me with pitchforks.  Scared to death by this nightmare I awoke to find a crowd of people pounding on the Jeep with briefcases and sausages, cursing me.  As background music, I heard lots of "Clang, clang, clangs."

Yes, you have guessed it,  Last night I had pulled over on the trolley car tracks and now the trolley was blocked and all of these morning risers were unable to get to work on time.  

Fearing for my life, I quickly woke Mr. Jeep and we sped out of harm's way.  

The rest of my trip was not as memorable as that, except for one incident.

In the evening, as I was rounding a "blind" curve, I was struck by a giant red American car.  The driver was obviously "drunk as a skunk."  He didn't seem to care about me, but he closely used his blurred vision to inspect his automobile.  The only "damage" to our vehicles was red streaks on my Jeep and green streaks on his car.  He stumbled into his automobile and zoomed off into the night.

I finally made it to my new assignment and the next morning I reported to the Sargent Major.  On the way in, I noticed a giant red car parked outside, sporting a long green streak on its side.  The owner never mentioned how he got it and I doubt if he ever looked at Mr. Jeep to see the nice red streak on his side.

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auf wiedersehen!

C'EST  L'HEURE  DU SEXE!

A little boy was sitting on the curb crying.  An old guy saw him and asked:

"Why are you crying?"

The little boy said between sobs:

"Because I can't do what the big boys can."

The old man sat down next to the boy and joined him in crying.

When us old dudes think about sex (after crying) we think about America's first famous sex symbol, Mae West and how she packed all that voluptuousness into an "hourglass" figure.  

Mae lived from 1893 to 1980.  She was sexy into her 70's.

Her first claim to fame was in a play which she wrote and produced, with an appropriate title: SEX.

Some write-ups say that she was five foot zero, but I think she was shorter than that because she wore special "double-decker" 9 1/2 inch high-heels, so she could pose "nose to nose" with her movie leading men.  But not many of those men were as tall as five foot nine.

This reminds me of a naughty "poem," probably written for Miss West. Please skip over said work so that you won't be shocked.

"Nose to nose,

Her toes are in it.

Toes to toes,

Her nose is in it."

Sorry about that, but I couldn't resist.

 

That "lovable bigot," Archie Bunker had a lot to say about sex. One of his sermons to his son-in-law, Mike included this exchange:

Archie:  "In my day we used to keep things in their proper suspective.  Take keepin' company, for instance.  When your mother-in-law and me was goin' around together (two whole years it was) we didn't - I never - there was nothin' - I mean nothin' - not till the wedding night."

Edith: "Even then." 

Famous poet Ogden Nash liked to comment on letters that Ann Landers got for her newspaper column. 

One he really liked was:  "The plight of a (sex-starved) teen-ager who doubted the affection of her boy friend because the only compliment he ever paid her was 'You sweat less than any fat girl I know.'"

Famous funnyman George Burns liked letters too, especially those addressed to him.  He loved to respond memorably, for instance:

"Dear George -- My boyfriend and I have never made love with the light on.  I'm dying to try it and see what it's like.  Do you think this is an unreasonable desire?"

George wrote back: "There's nothing wrong with making love with the light on.  Just make sure the car door is closed."

Another, kind of gross, example:

"Dear George, ... how long does a man have to wait for sex after his wife dies?"  From Bereaved Husband.

George says: "Dear Bereaved, I'd say it depends on how long you had to wait for it when your wife was alive."

I would recommend George's 1985 book "Dear George,"  from which these two examples were taken.

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oy!