loumercerwordsofwisdom.blogspot.com

Monday, January 29, 2018

I miss the good old days in the news room!

I can remember way back to when I first watched the news.  The camera would open on a man setting at the news desk and he would be reading the news of the day from a pile of papers in front of him.  We listened very carefully as he read to us.  Later there would be pictures sometimes.  Women were not newcasters at that time.  They were not even called newscasters, they were called newsmen.  Men gave the news and men gave the weather.  Women cleaned the newsdesk.

Time took care of that and I remember the first woman that was allowed to read a little of the news.  Of course I do not remember her name, because I mostly try to forget anything in the past.  The past is gone.  No need to remember that, unless of course it was something that was a learning experience and in that case it fell under the mother lesson of "Those who forget the past tend to repeat thier mistakes."  Newscasters' names did not tend to affect my future so I did not need to remember them.  Anyway, she sat quietly until something very boring like the social at the church came up and she was allowed to read that.  Sort of the token straw man or in this case woman.

A man always gave the weather.  You see, women have never been real bright when it came to important stuff, or so we were taught.  Kind of glad to see some of the changes that have come along, but back to the news desk.  The piles of paper were replaced by the teleprompter and the news feed and even the weather desk began to change.  A man used to tell us what last nights temperature was, and what we could expect tomorrow.  Some guy would usually show us either a sun or a cloud, or maybe even a snow flake!

Well, welcome to today's news and weather!  I am sorry, when I turn on a channel and there stands some man and woman in the center of the stage with thier hands folded and they are giving me the news, I rebel!  Sit down!  Sit down behind the desk and at least look like you are giving me the latest update.  I see your videos.  I realize you are just parroting what is going on in your ear from the tiny microphone hid there, but at least sit down behind your desk.  Look like you are a news person and not a fashion plate.  Standing there telling me the news is second only to the chipper your fashion plate that shows up in front of a weather map in her tight fitting dress with no sleeves and I know it is freezing cold outside.  She is telling me to bundle up and she should be bundling herself!  But the best part is when she hurries across the stage so I can get a better look at the weather back there on the board and then begins to tell me about the "out the door" clothes I need to wear.  And tuck in the old umbrella because it may or may not rain.  This little lady has no idea what time I am leaving the house, so she does not know what time I will be home.

Of course all the news is mostly teasers and some one tells me I will hear more on the news at 5:30 or 6:00 or later on in the evening.  Now, sorry about this, but I do have other things to do.  I want all my news in the first 10 minutes and all my weather in the next 3.  Show me a map of the jet stream and I can draw my own conclusions.  I do not have time for your opinions and your speculations and as for the weather a simple "windy tomorrow","gonna rain" or "I have no idea" will do nicely.  Spare me the cutesy little asides.

Hey! just found a channel where the woman is actually dressed for the weather.  Have not seen the newsman yet, but sure he is there somewhere.  There are actually 3 women and 1 man.  They are dressed for the weather and the man has on a suit.  Whoohoo!  I may actually set down and watch a little bit!

Disclaimer:  All opinions expressed in my writing are completely my own and should not reflect on any woman or man who appears on my television.  If you are tempted to call me names and throw eggs at me, that is your right.  I live solely by the motto of "Live and let live!"  And the last newswoman I actually knew the name of was Sandra Mann.



Saturday, January 27, 2018

You can please some of the people....

Mother was adamant about this one!  I used to try to make every body like me, but it never happened.  As soon as I got a friend, I pissed some one else off.  So Mother was clear about it.  " You can please all of the people, some of the time.  You can please some of the people all of the time.  But you can not please all of the people, all of the time. "  She was right, you know.  She was always right!  Not right some of the time, but all of the time and the wisdom that came from that woman's lips never ceased to amaze me.  She just had a way of looking at life that made so damn much sense.

When I married my first husband she said "You made your bed, now you can sleep in it."  Later it was "If you lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas."  "Live and learn."  "A new broom sweeps clean."  And of course the clincher, "Never bite off more than you can chew."

"Can't make a silk purse out of a sows ear."  "Sow the wind and reap the whirlwind."  That woman just never ran out of things to make me think and regret that decision.  "Too little too late."  "Can't put that toothpaste back in the tube."

So now when I think of mother I think of a poem that ricochets around in my brain.  It goes like this:

The wise old owl sat on the oak.
The more he heard, the less he spoke.
The less he spoke, the more he heard.
We should be like that wise old bird!

Or something like that.

Sunday, January 21, 2018

Some things will always be the same.

I lay in bed awhile this morning thinking of something from long ago.  The road in front of the Strong Street house was dirt.  Actually all the roads in Nickerson except Highway 96 and 56th Street (the back road to Hutchinson) were all dirt.  Well, the county road to Sterling and 3 blocks that made up Main Street were paved.  I think they were originally brick, but who knows.  Back to Strong Street.

It was the silty stuff and I can still feel it on my bare feet.  In the summer it was very warm, but the sidewalk was hot, so the sandy dirt was much preferred.  I should explain that the sidewalk of which I speak was a block away over beside the highway.  It was a 2 block long sidewalk that ran from the Fein house, along an empty field and then the block in front of Mr. Kings house, a rental house and then in front of the house where some crazy lady lived that we never saw and she may or may not have actually lived there.  The side walk on that block was pretty cracked and had chunks missing.  So if we were lucky enough to snag a pair of skates we could only skate on the first block.

Three things come to  my mind from the above paragraph.  First, Mr. King (and that may or may not be his actual name, but it works for me this morning.) is the one who slept face down in his garden one day all day long until a black hearse took him away.  Second is the matter of snagging skates.  My friend Barbara had skates and sometimes she would let me borrow a pair to skate home from her house which was in town and where I visited sometimes.  There was always the stipulation that I not skate in the dirt and I not lose the "key".

For those of you who do not know about old time skates, I will update you.  They were made of 2 steel platforms with two steel wheels in front and two wheels in back.  The body was held together with a nut which required a "key" to tighten and loosen.  Loosen the nut and slide the platforms either apart to make them bigger or together to make them smaller.  The front had clamps which were loosened and then adjusted for the tight fit needed to hold the front of the skate on your shoe.  The back had a strap for you ankle.  If everything was not tightly fitted your skate could come off and down you went with your tender flesh skidding along the rough side walk.  Ah, but when everything was perfect the feel of the wind on your face and arms as you sped along at 3 MPH was worth all the risks!  The best way to stop was to steer off into the dirt and that worked every time.

click here to see a pair

The last thing that comes to my mind from that paragraph is that the corner of the sidewalk that was by the Fein house had several steps that brought you up from the highway to the sidewalk.  It was on those steps that my brother brought the news to me that Hank Williams had died in the back seat of his limousine on his way to do a show in Nashville.  He was so young and we could not believe it.  People did not die for no reason, but there it was.  How very sad we were that day.  WSM had announced it.  WSM was the Grand Old Opry station.  I wonder if it still is?  I may turn the radio on some Saturday night and see.  That is if I can find the radio and if I know which button it is.

But what I really started out to tell you this morning, is how clearly I can feel the sandy dirt on my feet from all those years ago.  I used to like to wiggle my toes into a pile of it where it had blown up along side the road.  It felt silky and warm and made me happy.  But when it would rain and there would be puddles, that was fun too.  If the puddles stayed several days there would be little things in the water that looked like tiny dots with a tail.  I soon learned that those were pollywogs, which would turn into toads or frogs in just a couple days if the mud puddle did not try up and we did not step on them.  They were pretty damn fast, so stepping on them was really not an option.

Ah, but the best part was when the puddle dried up if we did not disturb it, there would be a whole new thrill.  If left alone the sun would dry the mud and the top layer would curl up.  When that happened I could step barefooted on the dry mud and feel it crackle under my feet.  That was a whole new feeling and if Jake got to the puddle first he did it and that used to piss me off so bad!  Sometimes he would save it for me and that made my whole childhood worth while.  I do not know the last time I actually stepped on dry mud.

Funny the things we think about in the middle of the night when the world is asleep and we are all alone.  Guess that is why God gave us a memory.  It keeps me grounded.


Friday, January 19, 2018

Just a hairy mass of molecules.

My late husband had his own way of describing the various pets we had over the years.  He called them a "hairy mass of molecules"  and that seemed to describe about any one we had.

When I married him I had a dog named Sysnyck.  She was a poodle/Chihuahua mix.  Very black and with the hair that required a groomer.  She was named after a television show that was about a drill instructor that opened a gym in the heart of gang territory in New York City. I just name my animals whatever comes to mind.  No thought for gender or looks or size.   Sysnyck lived to be 12 years old and died of kidney failure, a weakness in both of the breeds at the time.  She is buried in the front yard.

Then Kenny's sister gave us a red dingo cattle dog.  We got her the same day I peeled 3 bushels of chile, so we named her Chile.  I guess she was actually a heeler.  She was nuts about tennis balls and loved to play catch.  She played catch as long as someone would throw the ball.  Key here was it was between you and her.  You throw and she fetched.  One time we had company come and they had a couple boys about 11 or 12.  We sent them out to play fetch with Chile and they decided to toss the ball to each other.  The came in crying and terrified because Chile sent them up the tree because that was HER ball.  End of that game. 

She would play with one ball at a time.  When she was tired of the ball she would shred it and pick another.  We picked up 12 tennis balls at the flea market once and brought them home to her.  We dumped them all out on the ground.  She sorted through and got the one she wanted and the rest were put away because if we threw one of those she would not chase it.  She only wanted HER ball and when she tore it up she was ready for another.  She is in the front yard.

While Chile was still with us we got a little blond poodle since that was Kenny's choice of a dog.  Chile helped house train Tammy by standing in the flap of the doggie door so Tammy could go out and in to potty.  Damn smart dog.  Chile died before Tammy.

Next dog was another heeler named Polly.  She was white with one black eye.  She became very possessive of me and finally attacked Tammy for getting too close to me.  That was sad as we had to have Tammy put down from  her injuries.  We thought about having Polly done also, but decided to be a one dog house instead and that was what we did until the neighbor lady came dragging home a little white dog with 2 black eyes.  By this time Polly was ready for company and we pretty much lived happily until Polly passed and Elvira needed rescued.  I never knew how old she was.

Also interspersed through the years were several cats.  I only like calico cats and I only like distinctly marked Calico.  First was Charmin who lived 18 or 19 years.  Boots was Kenny's cat because he was a boy and he was gray.  He was around 15 years.  I finally got my last Calico 7 years ago.  I had a friend who named her.  Calicos are always female for some reason.  He named her Icarus.  When I explained that Icarus was a boy, he informed me that no one but me was smart enough to know who Icarus was.  So Icarus she is and is on my lap constantly.

My menagerie that is shrinking.  But memories live forever, don't they?

Sunday, January 14, 2018

So now the shock has worn off and reality sets in on us.

It has been almost a year since Donald Trump took office and not a day has gone by without a new upheaval and new ways to shock us.  His approval rating hovers right around the sewer pipe  as we express our disgust at his latest hate filled statements.  We are shocked.  We are offended.  We shake our heads and go back to whatever we were doing.  Is my assessment of the situation correct?  Sure it is.

Well, after a year of down hill maybe we need to rethink this little fiasco we are involved in.  In order to not sound confrontational I will say "We elected a mad man to the white house and we need to do something about that."  I want to go on record as saying I did NOT vote for that man, but by saying that I would appear condescending and that is not the point I want to make.  But we have to think about this logically.  He was voted into office.  I was not worried because I know we have a system of checks and balances and the Senate and the House of Representatives should keep him in check.  We elected those people on promises they made to us, so we should be safe, right?  Uh oh.  It ain't happening is it?

His cabinet is a joke.  He has hired and fired more helpers than Walmart and all the retailers combined and still has people operating from positions of power that are incapable of tying their own shoes.  Betsy DeVos is a prime example of what not to do to advance education.  Schools are operating with ice cycles hanging in bathrooms and kids wearing coats in the class rooms, but thank God the private schools get their tax breaks.  And speaking of tax breaks, I am so happy that they got that tax bill passed.  How long did it take for Walmart to declare they were giving a $1000 bonus to employees while slamming the door shut on 63 Sam's clubs to idle how many employees?  And they are raising the pay to $11.  Holy Mother of God!  That is just a few dollars more than I make on Social Security which does not stretch to cover my bills and there is only one of me.

What is it going to take to wake you people up anyway?  Now here is the deal, Trump is in bed with the Republican controlled congress.  Or they are in bed with him.  Six of one and half a dozen of the other.  Same thing.  For some reason the word Republican seems to loose a legion of demons and we Democrats do not stand a chance.  You want to know why?  Because we are honest, we have feelings for the under dog, and we live in a polly anna world where right will always triumph.  Sorry guys.  The other side plays dirty.  So here is what we have to do. We have to vote and get our friends to vote.  And we have to vote Democrat.  See we are so sure that good will triumph that we are setting here on the back of the wagon singing our song and the bandwagon is headed for one helluva cliff.

See the dipwad at the helm is spewing his filth and signing his executive orders and congress does nothing to stop him.  Republican Congress.  Luckily most of the shit he pulls can be undone by the court system, but it should not even be happening that way.  The man is not fit to pull latrine duty let alone hold the highest office of the land, so if Congress won't stop him, we have to replace Congress.  For now, stay on top of the news.  Call your Senator and Representatives and tell them what you want.  Vote in you local elections.  If it says Republican after the name, that is not the one you want.  Democrat. Bleeding heart Liberal Democrat.

Vote early and vote often!

Thursday, January 11, 2018

Rubber Hoses are replaced by time outs!

I have my biggest inspirations at 3:30 AM and if I don't go with them, they are just lost.  So this morning I woke up with a boy named Dwight Kite on my mind.  He was an 8th grader at Nickerson Grade School and I must have been in 4th or 5th grade.

* I must put a disclaimer here to say that while the names are pretty close to accurate from my childhood days, the memories that accompany them are solely my perceptions recalled 65 years later and may or may not be completely accurate.  But the events usually have some merit for some reason.  That having been said, I will continue.

As I recall Dwight was a big boy.  He was referred to around town as "now quite right in the head."  There were several of those in my growing up days and were times different they would have been referred to as "special ed" and later "special needs" and today I think they are just kids.  We have certainly come a long way in how we treat our children, but remember the time frame I am talking here.  Dwight was big.  Dwight was slow.  Dwight was easily led astray.

The incident that is in my mind today was one of those times.  There were also big boys who thought it fun to "rile Dwight up."  I have no idea what had gone on and it is entirely irrelevant.  I do know Dwight was "called into the office."

Mr. Houston was our principal.  As I recall he was tall and skinny, but when you are 3 feet tall everyone looks tall.  He wore suits and his shoes were always polished.  His hair was parted on the side and combed in the manner hair was combed in those days.  Several times a day he would walk slowly down the hall and peer into the class rooms to make sure we were studying.  He could stop a heart with a look so we always kept our heads down.

Dwight was in the office with amazing regularity and we heard things were going to "come to a head" soon.  Now you need to know, that back then a teacher could administer "discipline" in the classroom.  Miss Howe in 4th grade was fond of coming up behind the dawdler with a wooden ruler and cracking it down with the straight edge on top of your head.  Oh, trust me!  You do not know what pain is until suddenly that ruler hits your bony head and the stars fly.  Dawdling days were over then!

But if the teacher could not control someone, they were sent to the Principal for a "talking to" and usually that was all it took.  I never got a "talking to" and I was very sure I did not want one.  Dwight on the other hand received several of them.  Mr. Houston kept a rubber hose in his office and we always thought it was just to scare us straight, but Dwight learned different.  We all watched as he came out of the office with tears streaming down his face and red marks on his arms.  Mr. Houston had won.  We all were sad and of course went home at night to report the action to our parents.

Well, that is called "corporal punishment" and Dwight had been bad and no one seemed to know just what he had done that was so bad, but it must have been bad or Mr. Houston would not have whipped him with the hose.  Dwight was never quite the same after that.  He came to school and was just a big, hulking boy who didn't have much to say.  And then he was gone.  He still lived in the house across the street with his mother and father, but he was rarely seen.  I never saw him, but the other kids said they did.  I don't know.

That was a long time ago, but it still sticks in my mind.  I marvel at how our world has changed, but no matter how much it changes, it still stays the same.  Oh, the days of the rubber hose are gone, pretty much and replaced by more modern methods like "time out" or Lord only knows what.  But there is still the standard there that kids have to measure up  or be labeled different. 

I wonder what Dwight Kite's home was like.  I wonder if our society been back then what it is today what Dwight would have become.  I do not know when they quit beating kids into submission, but I am thinking maybe some of them could still benefit from a little of that.  Just not from the principal of the place you go to learn.

It was a different world back then.  It is sad that all these years later, I still think of Dwight Kite.  Our family went to church with Mr. Houston and his wife and son, and I was as afraid of him in church as I was in school.  Later Miss Barkiss, the music teacher, married the son, David.  That is all I know.  That may be all I want to know.

Another year down the tubes!

Counting today, there are only 5 days left in this year.    Momma nailed it when she said "When you are over the hill you pick up speed...