Today’s post won’t mean much to you Millennials, Gen Z-er’s, Gen X-er’s, or whatever other ridiculous name is currently in fashion. These days everyone is required to have a stupid label but let me assure you here and now that my generation was limited to only two labels/pronouns, Him and Her. I know that’s going to cause a great deal of confusion for all of you WOKE youngsters out there, but I don’t really care.
I’m now considered to be an “old fart” whose opinions and thoughts are out-of-date and no longer relevant to this modern era. I’m not the least bit insulted by that and actually take it as a true left-handed compliment of sorts. I hope all of you “labelled” individuals out there are able to read the following lists without voicing your unimportant opinions in a disrespectful manner. Be patient because it’s a long list but well worth reading.
Close your eyes… and go back…
Before the Internet, before semiautomatic pistols and crack and Mac-10’s.
Before SEGA or Super Nintendo or X-Box.
Way back…
Red light, Green light, 1 2 3.
Chocolate milk, lunch tickets, penny candy in a brown paper bag.
Hopscotch, butterscotch, double Dutch, jacks, kickball, and dodge ball.
Mother May I? Hula Hoops and Sunflower Seeds, jawbreakers, blow pops, Mary Janes.
The smell of the sun and lickin’ salty lips.
Wait, there’s more. . .
Catchin’ lightening bugs in a jar, playin slingshot and Red Rover.
When around the corner seemed far away, and going downtown seemed like going somewhere.
Climbing trees.
Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, sittin’ on the curb, jumpin’ down the steps,
Jumpin’ on the bed, pillow fights.
Being tickled to death, runnin’ till you were out of breath.
Laughing so hard that your stomach hurt.
Playing catch with your best friend for hours or until your arm hurt.
I’m not quite finished just yet…
Licking the beaters when your mother made a cake.
Getting hundreds of kisses from a gang of puppies.
When there were two types of sneakers for girls and boys (Keds & PF Flyers), and the only time you wore them at school, was for “gym.”
When nearly everyone’s mom was at home when the kids got there.
When you’d reach into a muddy gutter for a penny.
When girls neither dated nor kissed until late high school, if then.
When your mom wore nylons that came in two pieces.
When all of your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done, every day.
When you got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, for free. And you didn’t pay for air, and you got trading stamps to boot!
When any parent could discipline any kid, or feed him or use him to carry groceries, and nobody, not even the kid, thought anything of it.
Don’t stop reading yet…
When it was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents.
When they threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed…and did!
When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home.
Basically, we were in fear for our lives, but it wasn’t because of drive by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc. Disapproval of our parents and grandparents was a much bigger threat!
Decisions were made by going “eeny-meeny-miney-mo.”
“Race issue” meant arguing about who ran the fastest.
Money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in “Monopoly.”
Catching the fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening.
Kids only received trophies when they actually won something.
Almost finished, be patient…
Being old, referred to anyone over 20.
The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was cooties.
It was magic when dad would “remove” his thumb.
It was unbelievable that dodge ball wasn’t an Olympic event.
Having a weapon in school, meant being caught with a slingshot.
Nobody was prettier than Mom.
It was a big deal to finally be tall enough to ride the “big people” rides at the amusement park.
Abilities were discovered because of a “double-dog-dare.”
Saturday morning cartoons weren’t 30-minute ads for action figures.
“Oly-oly-oxen-free” made perfect sense.
Spinning around, getting dizzy and falling down was cause for giggles.
The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team.
War was just a card game.
Running naked through the sprinklers on a hot day.
Water balloons were the ultimate weapon.
Baseball cards in the spokes transformed any bike into a motorcycle.
I’m feeling a bit feisty today, so I’ll post this rather lengthy rant. I also understand that asking many of our so-called concerned citizens to read something longer than two paragraphs is asking a lot. There are somethings I can choose to forget but not forgive. There are other things that I will never forget or forgive. Unfortunately, the attention span of a great many Americans is quite short except when they’re inconvenienced by a TSA screening. The following test will remind our brilliant lawmakers and most casual citizens that there are things that should never be forgotten. Unfortunately, many casual citizens and politicians who see a wrong perpetrated against this country just shrug their shoulders, make a lame speech, wipe a tear from their eye, and then immediately return to the business of politics and feathering their own nest. Let’s have a quick memory test to determine who is actually paying attention these days.
USA History Exam
(For the chronically uninformed)
1. In 1972 at the Munich Olympics, athletes were kidnapped and massacred by: a. Olga Korbitt b. Sitting Bull c. Arnold Schwartzeneger d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
2. In 1979, the U.S. embassy in Iran was taken over by: a. Lost Norwegians b. Elvis c. A tour bus full of 80-year-old women d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40.
3. During the 1980’s a number of Americans were kidnapped in Lebanon by: a. John Dillinger b. The King of Sweden c. The Boy Scouts d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
4. In 1983, the U.S. Marine barracks in Beirut was blown up by: a. A pizza delivery boy b. Pee Wee Herman c. Geraldo Rivera d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
5. In 1985 the cruise ship Achille Lauro was hijacked, and a 70-year-old American passenger was murdered and thrown overboard in his wheelchair by: a. The Smurfs b. Davy Jones c. The Little Mermaid d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
6. In 1985 TWA flight 847 was hijacked at Athens, and a U.S. Navy diver trying to rescue passengers was murdered by: a. Captain Kid b. Charles Lindberg c. Mother Teresa d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
7. In 1988, Pan Am Flight 103 was bombed by: a. Scooby Doo b. The Tooth Fairy c. Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
8. In 1993 the World Trade Center was bombed the first time by! : a. Richard Simmons b. Grandma Moses c. Michael Jordan d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
9. In 1998, the U.S. embassies in Kenya and Tanzania were bombed by: a. Mr. Rogers b. Hillary, to distract attention from Wild Bill’s women problems. c. The World Wrestling Federation d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
10. On 9/11/01, four airliners were hijacked; two were used as missiles to take out the World Trade Centers and of the remaining two, one crashed into the US Pentagon and the other was diverted to a crash by the passengers. Thousands of people were killed by: a. Bugs Bunny, Wiley E. Coyote, Daffy Duck and Elmer Fudd b. The Supreme Court of Florida c. Mr. Bean d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
11. In 2002 the United States fought a war in Afghanistan against: a. Enron b. The Lutheran Church c. The NFL d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
12. In 2002 reporter Daniel Pearl was kidnapped and murdered by: a. Bonny and Clyde b. Captain Kangaroo c. Billy Graham d. Muslim male extremists mostly between the ages of 17 and 40
As the writer of the award-winning story Forrest Gump so aptly put it, “Stupid is as stupid does! But an even better quote comes from comedian Ron White:
This will be a short and sweet posting today. Spring/Summer has arrived with a huge bang now that the weather has turned warmer. Family obligations come first since they’re mostly about the grand kids anyway. Last evening my better-half and I attended our first little league ballgame to support our grandson. This is a league for 7–9-year-old future all-stars and it’s a real hoot to watch these kids as they try to figure the game out. Most barely know how to swing a bat, let alone having enough arm strength to throw a ball to a base. It’s getting them on the field and teaching them the beginnings of playing as part of a team. This is baseball at its absolute best. There were about 20 kids in their fabulous new T-Shirts, a host of moms and dads and brothers and sisters, and about ten million effing mosquitos to drive us all insane. That visit will keep us both in the good graces of grandson #2.
Grandson #1 will be taking the field in a day or so in a league of older kids. I can’t wait to see him at bat since I was his unofficial batting coach in his younger days. More fun baseball, more black flies, and more mosquitos. Being a baseball fan and a grandparent is almost a full-time job and we both love it.
Unfortunately, the blog will suffer a bit. I may miss a few days here and there but hopefully not too many.
Poetry is an enigma to me. I wouldn’t know good poetry if my life depended on it and even the bad poetry that I sometimes see doesn’t sound so bad. Anything that confuses me like that makes it impossible for me to take it too seriously. After a recent Bad Poetry Post, I received a few e-mails with samples from some of my readers. I assume they sent them because they thought they were bad, I don’t really know, so you figure it out. I think the first one was sent to me because I’m from Maine and someone thought I might be interested in Moose poetry. Good luck with that one. Here it is . . .
A moose is like a bull on stilts With a silly kind of head. And if one of them sat on you You’d probably be dead.
Do you really think that’s bad poetry? It seems okay to me but nothing special. It’s a little bit of truth with a little bit of silliness. Here’s the next one which I really don’t understand about a Toad. It’s a little weird but kind of funny. It seems more like a limerick than poetry but when you get right down to it there isn’t much of a difference.
The story that is told By a severely flattened toad, Is of evidential failure In attempts to cross the road.
This next poem hits home for me primarily due to my advanced age and secondly because it brings back memories of my favorite grandmother who passed away a very long time ago. See what you think.
💖
Of love and marriage who can say, which way these things can go. A loving wife, a shrieking hag, no one will ever know.
The years of youth have come and gone, with memories good and bad. The happiness of family, the love of mom and dad.
The years should teach you something, or so we’re always told. Remain yourself no matter what, and mellow when your old.
Your life is filled with happiness, and sorrows big and small, But not until your old and gray, will you understand it all.
It is a shame that through the years, this knowledge lies unused. Erring and blundering again and again, with help and advice refused.
So, think about the elder ones, grandmothers, grandfathers and such, Who’ve experienced life’s many problems, and could help you oh so much.
Their days are few in number, and once their gone it’s sad. Accept their help and listen close, to the experiences that they’ve had.
And when they’ve gone, you’ll think of them the way they used to be. The memories are all you have, but that’s enough you see.
I’m talking about hide and seek at dusk, sitting on the porch. Hot bread and butter, eating a super-duper sandwich (Dagwood), Red light, Green light, 123.
Chocolate milk, lunch tickets, any candy in a brown paper bag. Hopscotch, butterscotch, Double-Dutch, jacks, kickball and dodgeball. Mother, May I? Hula Hoops, sunflower seeds, jawbreakers, blow pops, Mary Janes, and running through the sprinklers. The smell of the sun and licking salty lips.
Wait . . .
Watching lightning bugs in a jar, playing slingshot and Red Rover. When around the corner seemed far away, and going downtown seemed like going somewhere.
Bedtime, climbing trees. 1 million mosquito bites and sticky fingers. Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, sitting on the curb, jumping down the steps, jumping on the bed, and pillow fights.
Being tickled to death, running until you are out of breath. Laughing so hard that your stomach hurt. Being tired from playing . . . Remember that?
I’m not finished yet . . .
What about the girl that had the big bubbly handwriting? Licking the beater when your mother made cake. When there were two types of sneakers for boys and girls (Keds and PF Flyers), and the only time you wore them at school was for “gym”.
When nobody owned a purebred dog. When the quarter was a decent allowance, and another quarter a huge bonus. When you’d reach into a muddy gutter for a penny. When girls neither dated or kissed until late high school, if then. When your mom wore nylons that came in two pieces.
When you got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, for free. And you didn’t pay for air, and you got trading stamps to boot! When laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels hidden inside the boxes.
When any parent could discipline any kid, or feed him or use him to carry groceries, and nobody, not even the kid, thought anything of it. When it was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents.
Not done yet . . .
When all of your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done, every day. When they threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed… And did! When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home. Having a weapon in school, meant being caught with a slingshot. When nearly everyone’s Mom was at home when the kids got there.
Basically, we were in fear for our lives but it wasn’t because of drive-by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc. Disapproval of our parents and grandparents was a much bigger threat!
Decisions were made by going “eeny-meanie-miney-mo”. Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, “do over!” Race issue meant arguing about who ran the fastest. Money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in Monopoly.
Catching fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening. It wasn’t odd to have two or three “best friends”. Being old, referred to anyone over 20. The net on a tennis court was the perfect height to play volleyball and rules didn’t matter. It was unbelievable that dodgeball wasn’t an Olympic event.
The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was cooties. It was magic when Dad would remove his thumb. Scrapes and bruises were kissed and made better.
As most of you are aware I am a lover of all things trivial and historical. I love all history but especially my own. Now it’s time for me to take you on a little trip down memory lane back to 1960. I’m going to introduce you to someone in my life who left me with vivid memories of school and a few emotional and geographical scars.
The lady in question was my eighth grade geography teacher. She was obsessed with geography to a fault. She was one of the meanest teachers I’ve ever had but also absolutely unforgettable (and not in a good way). On the first day of classes she told our group that half of our grade for the entire year would be based on our ability to memorize all the countries of the United Nations in alphabetical order and to recite it in front of the class. We spent many a day standing in front of the classroom and reciting as best we could as many of the countries as possible. Did I learn the countries, you bet I did, and at that time there were 82 of them.
All of us students agreed that she was an absolute lunatic and that was never disproven. She passed away many years ago and I actually sat in a bar that night with a close friend, another of her students, and toasted the old girl with a few stiff drinks. I didn’t attend her funeral but I was tempted to because I wanted to make sure she was really gone. This post is a something of a memorial and tribute to miss Mabel Milldollar, one of the most unforgettable persons I’ve ever met. This list of trivia items would have been something she would have loved but only if she could have used the information to create one of her memorable pop quizzes. They were brutal. Let’s get this started….
The part of the United States that the sun shines on first is the top of Mount Cadillac in Maine.
The state of Hawaii is composed of 132 Islands.
25% of the State of California is made up of deserts.
The southernmost tip of Africa is the Cape of Agulhas.
The northernmost point in the United States is the city of Point Barrow, Alaska.
The city of Timbuktu is located in Mali in Western Africa.
The Sahara desert in North Africa has an area of 3,250,000 square miles.
Western South Dakota marks the geographical center of the United States since the addition of Hawaii and Alaska.
Piccadilly Circus in London got its name from collars, called picadillo’s, that were made by a tailor name Robert Baker who created them in the area.
The highest uninterrupted waterfall in the world is Angel Falls in Venezuela. It has a 3212 foot drop.
The lowest point of dry land on the earth is the shore of the Dead Sea, between Jordan and Israel, which is approximately 1300 feet below sea level.
I hope you’re smiling up at me Miss Milldollar because you couldn’t possibly be looking down on me. Your evil brainwashing techniques would have certainly qualified you for special duty at Club Gitmo. No terrorist in the world could have stood up to that “evil eye” you were famous for. I hope you’re sitting in the corner of wherever you happen to be with a pointy dunce cap on your head and having your hand smacked with a big ass ruler.
I’ve been complaining for months about wanting warmer temperatures and yesterday I got my wish. We had a gorgeous day in the mid-sixties and it was sunny without a cloud in the sky. The cat and I even managed an hour on the deck to work on our tans a bit. It was incredible.
How do you end the perfect day? Always a good question I suppose. After my better-half arrived home from work we discussed just that. It was the perfect night for a bonfire to start our Spring and Summer seasons off properly. Before dark I spent a few minutes preparing.
A bonfire while being really great also gives me a chance to rid myself of wood scraps collected during the winter months in my workshop and from the garden repairs and upgrades. The wood was cut and we were ready to go. Next I built the fire and lit it up.
The darker it got the better it became. We sat quietly enjoying the warm night and the good company. The sky was showing some light from Portland a few miles away which offered up a photo or two work keeping.
As we fed the fire it became really cozy and intimate. No vehicles noises, no kids playing and screaming, just peace and quiet.
The smell of burning firewood took us both back to past years around similar fires with family and friends who are no longer with us. The heat of the fire on my face was just the best. After a few hours we shuffled off to bed feeling good about each other and life in general. We left the fire with some regret.
I’m already on my third cup of coffee this morning and that good old caffeine buzz I’ve come to rely on has yet to rev my engines. I have a lot of errands to run today and need some serious motivation to get them all completed. The blessing is that my better-half is working which will keep her out of my hair (what little I have left) to prepare for her birthday dinner tonight. It’s difficult to get anything secret done around here and over the years she’s forced me to become even sneakier than usual.
She loves being surprised and each year that goes by it get tougher and tougher to come up with fresh ideas. I’ve purchased her a few gifts which I’m sure she’ll like because I am “The Man” when it comes to giving great gifts. As much as she likes being surprised I like doing the surprising. I can’t go into too many details because she reads this blog looking for clues. I’ve learned to be very careful in keeping important information as secret as possible.
She’s been feeling a little depressed coming into the holidays since it’s the first ones since the passing of her Mom. She’s usually a Christmas fanatic going totally bonkers with decorations and general X-mas silliness. She needs something to get her into the holiday spirit and I’m hoping we’ll have our first snowfall soon. That’s always been a kick-start for me and I think it will be for her as well. She’s also a shopping machine and quite possibly a few hours out in the crowds on Black Friday will help too.
I understand how she feels because I went through the loss of both my parents in the last eight years. My mother was a Christmas lunatic too and it’s still difficult to have Christmas and not think of her and my dad and Christmases past.
The saving grace this year will be the grandsons. Christmas has always been for the children and once the tree gets decorated and the kids come to visit, chattering on and on about Santa and reindeer, she’ll be just fine. They own her completely and a few smiles from them will make all the difference in the world. Then she’ll go crazy the last week before Christmas trying to make up for lost time which is what I’m hoping for.
Truthfully I’ve been a real Grinch for many years about Christmas but having the boys in our life is changing all that. I hope we both can find the holiday spirit once again. I’d love to have that feeling on Christmas morning like I did when I was eight years old.
With the Memorial Day weekend looming we can all sit back and watch the television programming meant to honor those service men and women who have paid the ultimate price. Being an Army veteran I hesitate to participate in the required litany of praise, sorrow, and remembrances that seem to be mandatory these days. As a vet I never expected praise for my service because it was the right thing to do, for me. I wanted to pay back a little to the country that kept me free. It’s more comfortable for me to celebrate the holiday in a private manner without all of the hoopla.
I had a number of friends who proudly served their country but never made it home and I remember them all too often. I have no need for making some sort of holy pilgrimage to "The Wall" in DC to stand and sob and leave tokens. I’ll fly my flag with pride in silence, remember my lost friends in silence, and try to live my life in a way to make them proud.
So there’ll be no sad stories here because I prefer to celebrate this day my way. It takes special people to voluntarily place themselves in harms way with the fear of dying a real possibility, especially these days. Nothing saddens me as much as the people in this country that have never served and criticize those who do. Waving a flag and watching fire-works displays twice a year leaves me flat.
I’m looking forward as most people do to the Summer months but using Memorial Day as a spring board for that seems a little disrespectful, to me. Make a contribution to the Wounded Warrior Project, quietly remember the fallen, kiss your children, and live your life to the fullest. That’s the best way to remember them because they died so you could.
Let’s make flying the American flag the only dignified display required for celebrating this day.
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