OBSERVATIONS

THE YEAR OF THE TIGER

Millions (billions?) of Chinese people are celebrating "the year of the tiger."  

I once learned, from a Chinese-American employee who was scared to tell me, until I pressed, what a certain Chinese phrase translated to in English:

"China is a giant tiger waiting to devour the world!"

Scary?

THE YEAR 88 OF JOE VAUGHAN

As I recently mentioned, my Aunt Mary would always reverse her age so that she would feel younger. For instance, when she was 71, she claimed that she was 17.

That has worked for me from my 81st birthday to my 87th birthday.  Well, tomorrow will be my 88th birthday and that number can't be manipulated.

The sad thing is that I feel and sometimes act as a teen-ager!  When I survived the Hospice program, I was "born again," so to speak. (At least physically, if not religiously.)

RELIGION?

As a recovering Quaker/Baptist/Unitarianist/Atheistic/Agnostic, I would confess to being an adherent to the teachings of the Dali Lama, such as:

"Our purpose in this life is to help others.  And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them."

"Be kind whenever possible.  It is always possible."

SOMETHING NOT KIND

It bothers me that some school boards are banning books such as "Maus." Are we living in Nazi Germany or Communist Russia?  All books are important. 

May I pick a few statements from an excellent Opinion Piece by Viet Thanh Nguyen that was carried by yesterday's Sunday New York Times?

"... Books are inseparable from ideas ..."

" ... A book can open doors and show the possibility of new experiences, even new identities and futures."

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 LUXEMBOURG

Luxembourg is a small country comfortably nestled between Belgian, France and Germany. Their 600,000 residents have access to three National languages: French, German and Luxembourgish.  Most people are trilingual.

Luxembourg deals in Euros and is supposedly the second richest country in the world. The first would be China, not the U.S.  

The capital, Luxembourg City, is known for its medieval "old town" and its miles of underground tunnels.

Luxembourg is also known for its award-winning wines ... and its so-called "wineos," pretty young ladies who entice male visitors to Luxembourg City into buying them very expensive bottles of normally cheap wine.

My co-worker Al, from New Jersey talked me into accompanying him to Luxembourg City.  As we prepared for the trip, we were warned by someone experienced in the matter to "Look out for them wineos!"

LUXEMBOURG  CITY

The "downtown" was small, the rooms were very cheap, the restaurant food was tasty, and also cheap. And, they accepted and welcomed American dollars. 

HIGH STEPPING?

I encountered a mystery when I entered my rented room. There were dark footprints on the ceiling, looking just as if someone had nonchalantly meandered across the room from end to end in boots.  On the ceiling which was perhaps seven feet above the floor!

Was this a prank? The kind that American jokesters perpetrated?  But this was in Europe, not the U.S.

Perhaps Spiderman spent some time in this room.  I never could figure it out.

WINEO HEAVEN?

After a delicious (and cheap) meal at a restaurant, we decided to stop at a nearby cafe for a "nightcap".  Al ordered a glass of wine and I ordered some beer.

Suddenly a "dream" appeared at our table.  In the dim light, she was the most beautiful brunette Al and I had seen in a long time.

She stroked Al's hand and told him he was handsome.  She also asked him to buy her some wine. Aha! A "wineo!"

She didn't bother with me because I was a beer-drinker.  But Al was an easy "mark."

Her wine appeared to me to be colored water and it cost a lot of American money, wiping out Al's reserve fund.  Noting that Al was out of money, the beauty wrote an address on a piece of paper, saying that if he visited her, she would lead him through a "garden of delights."  Then, suddenly, she disappeared.

All along, I had tried to convince Al that she was one of those notorious "wineos."  But to no effect.  Al was in love.

After his beauty left, he "bummed" five dollars from me and raced out for a cab, with the address in hand.

The cab driver informed Al that the address was made up and did not exist.

SMART PILLS

I had assumed that Al, coming from a large city in New Jersey would be smart enough to see through the current scam.  I was wrong.

This reminded me of an Amos and Andy Routine. I paraphrase:

Andy: "I wish I were smarter."

Kingfish: You are in luck. I have here some pills that will make you smart as Einstein. Take one."

Andy: "Phew! That tastes like rabbit turd!"

Kingfish: "Now you're smart, man!"

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 OWLS

Edward Lear (1812-1888) wrote:

"The owl and the pussycat

Went to sea in a beautiful pea-green boat,

They took some honey, and plenty of money,

Wrapped up in a five pound note."

(After being married by the turkey who lives on the hill, and eating with a runcible spoon:)

"They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon,

They danced by the light of the moon." 

I hope you heard this delightful "nonsense poem" when you were a child.  I remember it well.

How about this poem written by our old friend "anonymous" in the 1800's:

"A wise old owl lived in an oak.

The more he saw, the less he spoke,

The less he spoke, the more he heard.

Why can't we all be like that wise old bird?"

Some say this was written to enforce the 19th century dictum that "children should be seen but not heard."

My MENSA (high IQ) group adopted the "wise old owl" as their logo for a while, and as every crossword puzzle addict knows, Minerva (Athena) was the goddess of wisdom and knowledge, and her animal symbol was a little owl. 

Here are a few owl facts that you might already know.

An owl's tubular eyes cause owls to always look straight ahead. An owl needs to rotate its head to see anywhere else.

An owl can rotate its head 135 degrees in either direction, which gives it 270 degrees of movement.

An owl has the best night vision of any creature.

Owls hoot and can also whistle and squeak. Scary sounds in the country-side.

Contrary to some statements, "Hoot Mon!" has nothing to do with owls.  It is an archaic Scottish exclamation expressing dissatisfaction in a kind-of humorous way.

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PS. Don't forget to read An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce.

 A LITTLE HUMOR FOR A SNOWY DAY

Some time ago, a New Bedford, Massachusetts resident sent me this item that appeared in a local newspaper:

During a drive through Freetown a guy from New Bedford collided with a truck carrying a horse.

A few months later, he tried to collect damages for his injuries.

"How can you now claim to have all those injuries?" asked the insurance company's lawyer. "According to the police report, at the time you said you were not hurt."

"Look," replied the city boy. "I was lying on the road in a lot of pain, and I heard someone say the horse had a broken leg.  The next thing I know this Freetown cop pulls out his gun and shoots the horse. Then he turns to me and asks 'Are you okay?" 

(Some folks in New Bedford look at Freetown folks as "Hillbillies.)

Readers Digest recently reported:

A zookeeper spotted a visitor throwing $10 bills into the elephant exhibit.

"Why are you doing that?" asked the keeper.

"The sign says it's ok," replied the visitor.

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes it does.  It says "Do not feed.  $10 fine."

Edna Hazelton writes:

The telemarketer did his best to convince me to renew my subscription for another year.  "At this price, it's really a great bargain," he said.

"I'm elderly," I laughed.  "I might die before the subscription ends."

"No problem," he assured me. "You'll get a refund."

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 QUESTIONS

I try to avoid thinking about some things that persist in popping up in my brain. Here are some related questions.

HONDA

Why is the latest infuriating Honda sales ad being spoken several times in almost every podcast?

(I know that repetition of ads supposedly works, but, come on! Enough is enough!  .. Enough! .. Enough! .. Enough!)

COVID VACCINATION

Why do some folks refuse to get life-saving covid shots while still showing up at drug stores for their yearly flu shots?

Also, why can't it be noted in obituaries if the deceased person was an anti-vaxxer?

(It might cause people to think .. if they think at all.)

CRYPTO CURRENCY

Will this payment method "crash" someday and wipe out current fortunes in Bitcoins?

(This "bends my mind."  Readers Digest has an interesting article about Crypto Currency this month.  They mention that in 2010, a person bought some pizza for 10,000 bitcoins.  Those bitcoins would be worth about 639 million today!)

FORGERY

Why don't the major U.S. newspapers print information about the "fake electors" in several States?

(Loss of ad revenue from "fat cats?")

SUPREME COURT

Will President Biden follow through on his promise to appoint a black woman to fill retiring Justice Stephen Breyer's seat on the Supreme Court?

(Kruger? Jackson? Childs?)

FILIBUSTER

Will West Virginia politicians censor Senator Joe Manchin as Arizona politicians have Senator Kysten Sinema? If not, why not?

KILTS

What is worn under kilts?

(Never mind, we've already covered that ... so to speak.)

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 ENGLAND, SCOTLAND AND WALES

In December of 1988, a Pan Am Boeing 747 disintegrated in the air over Lockerbie, Scotland, claiming 270 passengers and crew, plus eleven persons who were hit by debris.

The disaster was the result of a bomb explosion.  The bomb had been placed aboard by terrorists, who said they were avenging a United States bombing of Libya's capital city, Tripoli.  The Libyan Government under Muammar al-Qaddafi supposedly paid damages to the families of the attack victims.

Elaine and I had heard the news, but had not related it to a trip we had booked with Collette Tours, out of Pawtucket, Rhode Island. It was a week-long excursion to England, Scotland and Wales. 

However, some folks got "frigid feet" and the initial tour list of over one hundred had shrunk to just  eighteen brave souls, sixteen of whom had a Harvard College connection.

All of the group, except for us, were flying at an early time out of Boston.  We were flying at a later time out of Baltimore.  This meant that we would miss the wine party set up for our group in London. (Damn!)

Our tour guide, Hal, who was also our nervous bus driver, led us away from merry London after a quick peek into the Baths.  

On the road, Hal was tasked to read from a "crib sheet" outlining historic venues.  He did this while manipulating our oversized bus, sometimes even in the proper lane.

A couple of the ladies in our little group were named Shakespeare.  You can imagine how nicely that "went over" in England.  Not so much in Scotland, and not at all in Wales.

Joe, an eighty-year-old retired professor was on the trip with his latest young inamorata.  During a long delay in the bus ride because of sheep in the road, he proposed to his girlfriend.  She accepted, to the delight of the group.  

We spent a long time at costumed banquets in Scotland and Wales.  I was even tempted once to try the Haggis, but Elaine rescued me.  She would tolerate a little garlic and scrapple, but Haggis?  No way!

In Edinburgh, Scotland, Elaine asked a costumed castle guide the immortal question, "What's worn under the kilt?"

The guide gave the immortal answer, "Madam, nothing is worn.  It's all in working order!" 

There were a couple of major disappointments with the tour.  Our flight schedule caused us to miss a tour of Windsor Castle and a tour of Winston Churchill's ancestry home.

 All things considered, we enjoyed the trip and the interaction with those new Harvard acquaintances.

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 FRENCH IN MY LIFE

JEUNE AMOUR!

I fell in love with Elaine Eva Langlois when we were students at Al Sanger's Tap Dance Studio. She was four-years-old, I was seven.

We didn't meet again until ten years later at one of New Bedford, Massachusetts Teen Strolls.  I was with my friends, Casey and Walter (ball peen hammer hit) Wilson.  Elaine was with her good friend, Jean Trembley.

After a few minutes, Elaine was unimpressed and  turned to Jean and said with a smirk, "Ils sont des "squares!"  You can guess what that means.

But then, as they turned to leave us, Elaine told Jean, "C'est le garcon que je vais espouser!"  I didn't know what that meant until Jean told me after Elaine's death that it meant, "He's the boy that I'm going to marry."

How prophetic!  We married a few years later and had a wonderful married life for 43 years.  We were also blessed with three bright, beautiful children.

LA VIE D'ELAINE ET JOE

Early in the 1900's, Elaine's grandparents emigrated from Canada.  They formed an ice delivery company to serve the other immigrants who also lived in the area.  The business prospered and became known as Del Langlois Ice and Oil Company.

Elaine's parents could speak perfect English but opted to speak only French at home and when conversing with elderly persons.  Elaine was sent to Saint Anthony's parish school where she had classes given in French in the morning and in English in the afternoon.

Early on, Elaine decided she would speak only English at home, and in most other situations.  In fact, while visiting Montreal, she refused to speak French.  I had to do so at hotels, stores and restaurants.

Elaine's parents were very good to me even though I wasn't French, and even took me along with them on family day trips. They assumed that I couldn't understand French, so they spoke English when I was around.

But I did understand a lot of French that I picked up watching French-language movies at the Strand Theater, and a few years into our marriage I had no problem understanding anything my in-laws said in French.

LANGUAGE STUDY IN EUROPE

I spent over three years in Germany-based environments. Much of that time was spent doing important, but boring work at several secret RADAR sites.  I served eight to twelve hour shifts seven days a week.  

"Lucky, lucky, lucky me!

I'm a lucky son of a gun!

I work eight hours,

I sleep eight hours,

I have eight hours of fun!"

Not true for me.  I worked twelve hours, I slept eight hours, and had sixteen hours to study languages, my hobby at that time.   The sixteen hours was a combination of time on and off of work.

My main language study was, of course, German, because that was where I lived.

Next was French, so that I could understand and converse more readily with my future bride's relatives.

Next was Latin, for Romance Language background.

Then came Hebrew and Greek, followed by Esperanto and Italian.

I tried to study all these languages at the same time. My advice: Don't try to do that! 

I read recently that a famous linguist says that languages can not be readily learned after the age of 16.  I don't think that is true, but I have noticed a drop in my foreign language ability over the years.

And please don't ask me to read anything in Hebrew or Greek!

LANGUAGES AT BOSTON UNIVERSITY

My degree is in Germanic Languages and Literature, but I did study a couple of other languages there on the side.

Spoken Russian - I even gave a speech in Russian.  Now, how the hell did I do that!

Advanced French - As a G.I. Bill student, I had to watch my school budget while making sure that Elaine and I always had food on the table.  This meant that I had to scrimp in certain ways sometimes.

At the beginning of a Fall semester, I had to hold off on buying a very expensive French textbook.  I would be able to purchase it when my next Government check arrived.

The French professor (who had written the textbook) singled me out before the other students as being lazy and stupid for not having purchased his "baby," and made sure that he gave me the toughest assignments.  At semester's end I was surprised to find that he had graded me with an A Plus!

Ah yes, Edith! La vie en rose. (most of the time)

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 NEIGHBORS FROM HELL.  PART TWO.

Shortly after moving into our pleasant cul-de-sac, Cleo decided that she would like to skinny-dunk her cellulites on a regular basis, so she conned her husband Bob into having a "pleasure-dome" created out of their small backyard.

XANADU

A swimming pool was excavated and was then surrounded by closely crowded tables and chairs and phony palm trees. There was also a special bench that held their combination TV and record player.

Every day we were subjected to the sound of Soap Operas on TV and loud rock music from the record player. This was heightened because neither common sense nor the law had mentioned that all swimming pools had to have a surrounding fence.

Besides that, we were subjected to an anatomy lesson every afternoon when Cleo floundered around her "swimming hole" in her natural undress. Ach! Was fuer ein Anblick!   

She also would like to play her "naughty" records at the highest decibel level.  Now, I always liked the comedy of Moms Mabley and Redd Foxx, but I didn't want my kids learning vocabulary words from their routines.

Armed with all my complaints and an explanation about pool fences, I went into a low-key conference with the Smedlaps.  They really did try to be better neighbors.

They lowered the sounds coming from their backyard and Cleo began to take her daily "skinny-dunking" at night. Best of all, they agreed to fence their pool!

They placed a six-foot wooden fence around the sides of their yard and a four-foot chain-link fence across the back. While helping me, it probably did not help people living in the development behind them.

THE BLUES

Bob had this idea that some juvenile offenders were climbing over his chain-link fencing and sneaking dips in his beloved pool.  He had a great idea to stop this.

He purchased some dark blue paint-like greasy substance from an auto-parts store and smeared it all over the fence. Surely, that would deter these miscreants!

Shortly later, as their mother (Elaine) was doing the laundry, our pre-teen daughters came in crying from the backyard.  Their clothes were colored a dark greasy blue that could never be removed.

Elaine was normally a calm individual, but in this case she went ballistic. She went to the backyard, surveyed the situation, removed the blue clothing and carried it to Bob's front door, which she almost pounded to oblivion.

When Bob popped out, Elaine threw the blue duds at him and threatened him with a beating that he would never forget.  To appease her, he agreed to remove the blue gunk from his fence and buy replacement clothing for my little girls.  Which he did.

THE IMPERIAL GARDENS CANAL

In a while, we decided to sell our cul-de-sac home and move to our just-constructed house in Carroll County.  On a Thursday, potential buyers were coming for an inspection on Friday, the next day.

I had spent lots of hours mowing and raking and the yard never looked so good. 

During the night we had a heavy downpour of rain and apparently a little rainwater entered Bob's basement.  To get rid of it before morning light, Bob grabbed a shovel and dug a ditch from his basement door, through his backyard and then all the way through our backyard to the back of our property.  

Elaine woke at seven A.M. and looked out the bedroom window.  Seeing the deep ditch snaking through our backyard, she went ballistic for the second time in her life.

Still dressed in her nightgown, she ran to Bob's house and pounded on the door.

Bob appeared in his underwear, at which time, Elaine grabbed him by the neck until he muttered: "Uncle!"

She made him get his shovel and still in his underwear, fill in all of the holes that he had dug.

We didn't have any more trouble with the Smedlaps since we moved to our new location.  I just felt sorry for the people who had purchased our house.

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 NEIGHBORS FROM HELL.  PART ONE.

Several years ago, my small family lived at a delightful cul-de-sac in a housing development with what I felt was a dumb name: Imperial Gardens. It was a nice place but not The Tuileries. 

My kids loved living close to many other young children and all of the neighbors were interesting characters.  All were thoughtful, smart folks except for the Smedlap family.

(This is a true story.  I have changed the names.)

The Smedlap family consisted of Bob and Cleo, and their two children, Harry, aged twenty-five and Luann, aged seventeen.

Let me start with three vignettes concerning the two Smedlap children.

THE KEY TO ALL

One Tuesday, I had stayed home from work with a slight touch of the flu.  It was early in the afternoon and the kids were in school and their mother was out shopping.

I had laid on my bed to try to get some nap-time.  I fell asleep and was awakened by a feeling that someone was watching me.  I opened my eyes and found Harry Smedlap hovering over me.  He saw that I was awake and said, "Hi, Mr. Vaughan, how are you?"

I knew that Harry was operating "four deuces away from a full deck," so I forced myself from killing him.  Instead, I grabbed him by the throat, and remembering that I had locked the front door, said. "How the hell did you get in?"

Harry said, "I used my key" and showed it to me.

After some investigation, it was learned that the locks on all sixty homes in the development were exactly the same, and used duplicate keys.  I guess that people with criminal minds (except for Harry) had not yet figured that out.

Harry's stupid incursion into our house may have  accomplished two things. One - Harry had been caught in the act and this may have kept him from considering a life of crime.  Two - we learned that the development had been "ripped off" when it came to house locks and restitution was extracted from the provider ... after he swiftly changed everyone's locks.  

THE BEETLE SCOOTS

(I didn't know about this until my daughter Diane mentioned it yesterday.)

Somehow, Harry finagled a driver's license and bought himself a beat-up Volkswagen Beetle.  He loved to drive fast into our cul-de-sac and frighten the little kids, and then laugh like a fox as they scattered.  These kids did not like this, so they plotted revenge.

Somehow they figured out that the emergency break did not work in the Beetle and they made a plan.

Each afternoon when Harry came home to spend his evening watching cartoons on TV, he would park his car on the street in front of his house.

A little while later the precocious conspirators got together and with the aid of tricycles, wagons and foot-mobile, would push Harry's car across the street from where he had parked it.  Harry never figured out how that happened.  The kids all laughed to see him scratch his head in puzzlement.   

PARTY TIME AT THE VAUGHAN'S. COME ON OVER

 One Summer, my family and I went on a three day vacation to Virginia.  We left on a Friday morning and came back home early on Sunday.

As we approached our home, we heard loud rock music and saw teen-agers dancing on the patch of lawn in the front of the house.  Tables and benches were in view as a hose sprayed everything with a cool mist. A nice party, but why was it taking place at our house?

I confronted the hose sprayer, who just happened to be Luann Smedlap from next door.  She nonchalantly explained that they needed some room for her party and her house did not have the space.

Wasn't this a good example of chutzpah?

I pulled everything down and threw it into the street and made the partygoers who had not escaped, clean up.  My lawn was filled with ruts and mud was everywhere.  My blood pressure was sky-high, but we survived this additional assault by one of the "neighbors from hell."

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 NOT FOR SISSIES !

My beloved Aunt Mary was right.  Getting old is not for sissies.  But she found a way to make it seem not so tough.  She would take her actual age and reverse it and then live that year as though she was as young as her new age indicated.

For instance, when she was 82, she acted as though she was 28, and a Flapper again.  When she passed, she was only 39, in her mind.

Mary also had a wonderful outlook on her life. She was never visibly depressed and liked to belt out her catch-phrase:

"Things look swell when you use Prell!"

From time to time, I find myself also yelling this famous shampoo advertisement.  After which, whatever was bothering me does not matter anymore.

Of course, as one ages, life does get rather complicated and often very frustrating. For Instance, in my case:

SKIN PROBLEMS

(Grand and great-grand kids, listen up!)

I grew up in New Bedford, Massachusetts, a city with eleven miles of waterfront and several sandy beaches, where one could sun-bathe all day in the Summer, which is what I did after swimming, during our long vacation from school.

In addition, my pal Casey and I sun-bathed whenever possible, on the YMCA tin roof.

I had lots and lots of sunburn, but not much tan.

The result: Three forms of skin-cancer as I grew older.  Some of the malignancy was expunged at Johns Hopkins Hospital, and the rest were removed by a visiting dermatologist.  

I was lucky.  I had good doctors who recognized the symptoms and it was caught early enough to be treated.

TIP

My advice to you is to minimize your sun exposure and always use a sun-blocker when you are on a tanning program.  Skin cancer can be life-threatening.

TOES

"Moses supposes his toeses are Roses,

  But Moses supposes Erroneously.

  Moses he knowses his toeses aren't roses,

   As Moses his toeses to be!

   (et cetera)

I love this little tongue twister that Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor and somebody named Bobby Watson (not the All American from New Bedford) heard at an elocution class, where Gene sang these silly lyrics by Adolph Green, Betty Comden and Roger Edens in the movie Singin' In The Rain.

Toes are silly things, they insist on constant growing while other bodily items, like head hair has given up.  This would be OK, except that us old folks have trouble bending our legs for toe inspection and our diminished eyesight doesn't help the situation.  (And don't even ask about "toe jam!")

TIP

Obtain the services of a podiatrist early in life. Ask them what kind of shoes to buy.  Follow their instructions so that you won't lose friends later in life as you complain over and over as I do: "My toes hurt!"

Take an old Prepop's word for it.

BONUS TIP

Keep a diary or a calendar of your activity every day of your life.  Believe me, that information will come in handy when you are an old dude like me.

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 AMBROSE  BIERCE

When one thinks about America's greatest short story authors, the names Twain, Poe or Porter come to mind, but the writer of the best American short story is left out.

That marvelous piece of work, in my not humble opinion, is a very short Civil War story called:

 An Incident at Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914.. maybe). If you haven't read it, do so.  You'll never forget it.

Mr. Bierce was a journalist, writer, satirist and comic wit. In 1914 he ventured into war-torn Mexico and was never heard of again.

Inspired by Samuel Johnson's kind-of satirical dictionary, he prepared his own dictionary over the years. His biting definitions caused this work to be called: 

The Devil's Dictionary.

Some of his definitions are accompanied by clever verse attributed to non-existing entities.

A few examples: (among the A's)

Archbishop, n. An ecclesiastical dignitary one point holier than a bishop,

     If I were a jolly archbishop,

     On Fridays I'd eat all the fish up -

     Salmon and flounder and smelts;

     On other days everything else.

     (By Joho Rem)

Admiration, n.  Our polite recognition of another's resemblance to ourselves.

Adder, n. A species of snake. So called from its  habit of adding funeral outlays to the other expenses of living.

Ambidextrous, adj.  Able to pick with equal skill a right-hand pocket or a left.

Admonition, n.  Gentle reproof, as with a meat- axe. Friendly warning.

     Consigned, by way of admonition,

     His soul forever to perdition.

     (By Judibras)

Alliance, n.  In International politics, the union of two thieves who have their hands so deeply inserted in each other's pockets that they cannot separately plunder a third.

All written almost 150 years ago and still ringing true today!

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 GARDEN  OF  VERSES

My beautiful mother was a notorious flirt with many men trying to court her.  But "La Donna e  mobile" and she kept her suiters at a distance, settling for their treat of late dinner (supper) almost every night.

This meant that my mother was usually home at my bedtime. 

Each evening she would read from one of two books that I loved:

Scampy: The Little Black Cocker by Dorothy K. L'Hommedieu, with illustrations by Marguerite Kirmse. Author Dorothy also wrote other child-pleasing books like Tinker: The little Fox Terrier, and British emigre artist Marguerite specialized in illustrating dog-themed books.

A Child's Garden of Verses by renowned Scottish Author Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894).   (As a teen-ager I enjoyed his Treasure Island and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.)

In between the adventures of my beloved Scampy, my four-year-old brain was tuned to Stevenson's verses. Some of which were thought-provoking in my young life. Like:

 

Bed in Summer

In Winter I get up at night

And dress by yellow candle-light.

In Summer quite the other way,

I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see

The birds still hopping on the tree,

Or hear the grown-up people's feet

Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,

When all the sky is clear and blue,

And I should like so much to play,

To have to go to bed by day?

Ah! So true when you are a youngster. I hated that.

I thought:

"Isn't it a shameful waste

To sleep when there is life to taste!"

But I was a good kid (at least at that time) and always obeyed my mother.

Whole Duty of Children

A child should always say what's true

And speak when he is spoken to,

And behave mannerly at table;

At least as far as he is able.

My mother took a lot of time trying to teach me to be a young gentleman. She emphasized the following:

1. When walking with a lady, always stay on the street side so that she won't be splattered by speeding vehicles.

2.  Always say "Thank You" to anyone helping you in any way.

3.  Always listen to the other person's viewpoint when engaging in a conversation.

4.  Always remember that skin color means nothing when it comes to intelligence and ability. We are all alike, and everyone should be treated equally.

5.  Say "yes, sir" and "no, sir" to your elders.  Be respectful to teachers and relatives.

That's a lot to remember when you are a pre-teen.

 

Some of the Garden's verses were scary for a little kid.

My Shadow

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,

And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow -

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.

He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;

I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

For a while, I thought that my shadow was a living creature. 

I love these verses.  They bring back pleasant memories of my life with my mother.

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 MUSCLES

When I was in the 7th grade Bobby Halloran picked the kids to be on the Rodman School baseball team. I thought that I might like to be on the team, but I wasn't picked.

Miss Thynge said, "Why didn't you pick Joe Vaughan?"

Scrawny five foot nothing Bobby said that muscular five foot six Joe didn't seem interested. Actually, I learned later, he wanted all his friends to be with him on the team. (What else is new?)

My feelings were hurt because I was a damn good baseball player.  But this event reenforced personal athletic activity in my new job at the New Bedford, Massachusetts YMCA, and later body building and weight-lifting.  (Who needed teams anyway? and also those sour grapes.)

In 1976 I moved our family into our new house in Gamber, Maryland, and filled the basement with heavy and light weights. I had ordered our builder to make this basement twice as high as normal so that weights raised in an overhead lift would not bang on the ceiling.

Every morning before work and school, my son Chris and I would lift weights and do body-building exercises, and build a lot of muscles.

Our idol in our endeavors was Arnold Schwartzenegger, Mr. Mighty Oak, Mr. Austria, Mr. Europe, Mr. World, Mr, Universe, Movie Star, and California Governor, all at a very young age.

Try as we could, we could never be like Big Arnie because we did not want to use muscle-building steroids.  But we did ok without them.

A neighborhood lady heard about our mini-gym and began working out with us every morning for a long time.  She built some big muscles over the years.

I continued to lift weights until we moved to a continuing care community.  Now my weight- lifting consists of fifty curls with a five pound weight in each arm every afternoon.  I also do several leg exercises every night before bed-time and my son keeps in shape playing with his beautiful and highly active children.

Life is good!

 

 

 SNOW TIME

New England poet James Russell Lowell (1819-1891) wrote at the start of The First Snowfall.

"The snow had begun in the gloaming

And busily all the night

Had been heaping field and highway 

With a silence deep and white."

What a beautiful work of poetry.  I like it's rhythm, and the pictures that it triggers in my mind.

The next part of the poem continues to paint a picture in my receptive brain:

"Every pine and fir and hemlock

Wore ermine too dear for an earl,

And the poorest twig on the elm tree

Was ridged inch deep with pearl."

When I was in grammar school, I tried to memorize this poem, but couldn't get past the first part. Years later, when snow is predicted, this poem excerpt pops up in my head, as it did yesterday when Westminster, Maryland, where I now live, received a couple of inches of "ermine".  

Everything looked good until the snow-flakes melted into rain drops. As a former president said almost constantly, "It was sad."

During this underwhelming snowstorm. a sudden gust of 55 mph blew my whale sculpture off of it's hooks and laid it across one of the porch chairs relatively unharmed. It had been safely hanging on my side porch for twelve years without any problem. (Was this wind gust a manifestation of global warming?)

During my childhood in New Bedford, Massachusetts, I slept in a room without heat. I kept the window cracked open, Summer and Winter. Usually in the Winter months I had to scrape the ice off of that window.

During my before-school job delivering milk for a dairy, I had to rise at four a.m. each morning regardless of the weather.  I still remember how cold it was. The van had no heater (who wants warm milk?) and I couldn't get the delivery van's door open, even when my driver-boss lit his stinky cigars to cover the smell of his stinky farts.

Whenever I opened a glassed-in porch to deposit half-frozen milk, I could feel the warmth emanating from some heating source, and I would curse my lot and vow to find some way when I grew up to keep myself warm all year long.  Perhaps I could move to sunny Florida!

My wife and I and our little bird, Schatzie, moved to Maryland in 1960.  Our knowledgeable friends told us that since Maryland was situated below The Mason-Dixon Line, we would be moving to a warm location. Boy were they wrong!

Snow occurs quite a bit less than in New Bedford and the low temperatures rarely dip as low.  But it still is a bit chilly and does have snow drops as it had yesterday. However, since Elaine and I are in warm inside hibernation, we shouldn't care about Winter weather anymore.

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 HISTORY DEBUNKED

Yesterday I ventured into the bowels of my basement library where I found a wonderfully crafted book.

Death by Petticoat, (American Myths Debunked) by Mary Miley Theobald, in conjunction with the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

PETTICOATS

The book title refers to the myth that colonial women died from burns when their long petticoats caught fire, that made it the leading cause of death, after childbirth.

"Not so!" say historians. Disease was the leading cause. Petticoat material, such as cotton, wool and linen tend to smolder, rather than burst into flame.

COATHANGERS

The book casually mentioned that clothes hangers did not appear until after the civil war. 

The shoulder-shaped wire hanger has been attributed to either one of these inventors,  O. A. North of Connecticut (Idea=1869) or Albert J. Parkhouse of Michigan (Implementation=1903)

But the early wooden clothes hanger was supposedly invented by Thomas Jefferson.

If you are interested, there is a book on the subject:

The Intriguing History of the Coathanger by Benjamin Judd.

CLAY PIPES

When clay pipes were all the rage, they were shared after stem pieces were snapped off for sanitary reasons.

"Not so!" say our friendly historians.  Clay pipe smokers didn't know about or care about germs. The stem breakage was just a result of forging extra long pipe stems. They were made long because of the heat from the bowl that burned one's lips. Long stems dissipated such heat. 

I've mentioned before the time I visited my grandfather who lived in a room in the house in which he was raised. It was now a nursing home.

He asked me to retrieve something he had hidden in the stone wall still standing in back of this home. 

His father was a devout Christian who forbade tobacco usage of any kind, so my grandfather purchased a clay pipe and would sneak puffs seated behind the stone wall.  When he had inhaled enough noxious fumes, he hid the pipe and tobacco in an inconspicuous hole in the wall.  This terrible criminal act occurred over 75 years earlier and Grandpa insisted that the pipe would still be there. 

In my stupidity, I did not attempt to find the pipe, because I thought that he might try to smoke it in violation of Nursing Home rules. What a dumb ass I was, to deprive my beloved grandfather of something important to him!

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THE CRYPTO VAN

During the last 18 months of my three-year assignment as an American Airman in Germany I was stationed at a secret location near Mausdorf. (Yes, it was as small as a mouse.)

To get to work required a one-hour ride in a bouncing Army truck over one-lane gravel paths with several blind corners.

(In fact, on one trip our truck passed a Volkswagen auto that had been squashed by an Army tank whose driver thought he always had the right-of-way.)

The truck dumped us off at a fenced-in area hidden by a grove of large trees. I often wondered how our RADAR worked in such a condition. But it did, and my radio signals also came in loud and clear.

Willie, my sometime friend and sometime enemy Air Policeman originally from Baltimore was already on entrance duty and waved us in for ID inspection, after which I entered my second home for 8 to 12 hour duty, the Crypto Van, a 6' by 12' metal container, with one small peephole so that I could look for any Commies who might be advancing over the hill and get ready to shoot them with my Burp Gun (through that same small hole). 

Later, my commanding officer arrived in his Mercedes after a pleasant commute.  He was my Captain and a nice guy from Ohio, named Ben Bodager.  When he learned that I went to school with Bobby Watkins, an "All American" playing for Ohio State, we became fast friends.

Ben convinced me that I was smarter than my recorded 100 IQ.  He arranged for me to take the "College Level GED Test" that I aced, and insisted that I go to college once I was discharged.  Which I did.  Thank you, Ben!

In the Crypto Van, certain top secret information was received by courier.  The documents always stated that once we had implemented certain codes, the documents had to be shredded in our primitive shredders. This I always did.

Once, when Ben was on extended leave, his command was assumed by another Captain whose only other duty seemed to be caring for a sickly 300 pound wife.

This temporary supervisor began snooping around, looking for discrepancies. He noted that certain actions had no documentation.  He didn't question the actions taken, but he accused me of destroying the documentation and turned me in for some kind of Courts Marshall disciplinary action which might include dishonorable discharge or jail time for destroying top secret information. (He thought he had me.)

 

I tried to explain that I was following the orders to destroy that were written at the end of each piece of documentation, and that could be easily verified by contacting the source of the documents. Did he listen?  Hell no!  (He thought he had me.)

However, his supervisors dismissed his allegations,  called him a "stupid bastard",  and sent him back to resume his marital duties.

After that, I was in sole command of the Crypto Van for a couple of weeks.

When I was discharged, I was accepted by Boston University and earned a degree for Germanic Languages and Literature.

I then searched for a career job that would fit my language education or my cryptologic experience. I know, NSA would be a good fit, but for now,  Boston University Placement set me up for "appropriate" jobs, such as:

Soda delivery salesman for the New England area.

Truck delivery scheduler for the East Coast.

Some others that sounded like they had connections with the Underworld.

These jobs offered immediate acceptance and large salaries.  I turned them all down and started to take placement tests for:

The Secret Service

NSA

Government Service

Some others.

I passed almost all of the tests I took and finally selected Government Service with the Social Security Administration in Baltimore, and I'm so glad I did.

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 SCHOOL FROM HELL

The New Bedford, Massachusetts School Board, in its infinite wisdom decided to change the beginning date for all school classes to January instead of either January or September as was the custom.

This meant that children who had birthdays in the Winter would get the opportunity to live through an extra six months in their current classes.  

So it was with me.  Instead of one year in 4th grade, I spent six months at the Cook School and one year at the Allen F. Wood School.

The Wood School was named for Mr. Wood who was principal at the Fifth Street Grammar School in the early 1900's.  This school was tasked with making little heathens into God-fearing men ready to fight the mighty leviathan in all of the global seas.

The Allen F. Wood School in 1943 was the same 1900 era Fifth Street School; but with a different name. I doubt that it had any maintenance fixes... ever.

My 4th grade class was on the top floor of this brick building.  To get there one had to carefully step over the holes where steps used to be. 

Once safely at the class, shaky metal frames connected to shaky wooden seats held shaky work pads and dribbly ink wells. 

Here and there were holes in the floor through which we could drip black ink down on the girls in the classes under us.

To control all this, there reigned a giant lady named Miss Savage.  I thought of her as a no-nonsense Nazi General in drag. 

Miss Savage had two jobs; principal and 4th grade teacher. She performed both duties with an iron hand, and she had rules that us miscreants had to obey.  Otherwise we would earn painful swats from a thick stick laying on her desk.

Girls were more or less exempt from her rules as long as their dresses were clean and they wore no makeup or jewelry.

Rule Number One

All boys must learn and speak proper English.

(My fellow students were of all sizes, shapes, colors and accents.  Most lived in homes where languages other than English was spoken.)

Rule Number Two

All boys must wear long-sleeved clean shirts.

(It's very hard to keep dirt and grime from seeking out the clothes of a nine-year old boy.)

Rule Number Three

All boys must wear neckties every day.

(A tough rule for many boys.  It meant that they had to shoplift ties from the town's Quarter Store.)

(I was lucky.  My cousin Winnie's uncle was an executive for a major distillery and wore each of his expensive ties only once.  When he heard of Rule Number Three, he began to send me his once-worn neckties.  I always wondered what Miss Savage thought of a poor kid wearing fashionable neckwear.)

Rule Number Four

Never question the principal's actions.  She knows a lot more than you do.

I tried to do so in the following situation, but I was unsuccessful.

Miss Savage administered the Stanford-Binet IQ tests given to 4th grade students at that time.  I found the test to be very easy, especially the vocabulary part.

Miss Savage called me into her office:

MS: You cheated on your test.

ME:  I did not.

MS: For example, a boy your age could not possibly get vocabulary words all right.

ME: ... ( I tried to tell her how I worked with my grandfather on his dream Crossword Puzzle Dictionary and could recognize all kinds of words and their meanings. She wouldn't listen.)

MS:  I'll adjust your IQ score so it properly reflects the truth.

So she figured out a way to record my IQ at a respectable but average 100.  This score governed my plans for future learning.  I did not think that I could make it in college. (I later learned that my IQ was quite higher than 100, and would qualify me for MENSA and INTERPOL)

Finally, I want to mention recess at the Wood School.  The so-called playground was a 16th of an acre stretch of sharp rocks, gravel and sand (mud when it rained, which was often.)

Our recess game was a version of Dodgeball.  A group of kids was elected to stand in the middle of a ring of other kids who threw rocks at them.  If a kid was hit, he joined the ring of sadistic fellow gamesters and got to do his own throwing until all but one was eliminated. He became the school hero.

Band-aids were available in the principal's office.

I couldn't wait to finish the 4th grade so I could then transfer to a more civilized school.

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