Thoughts and Memories on Turkey Day

As my bride and I prepare to head to her eldest son’s house to watch him deep-fry a turkey — and share in the feast that goes with it — my thoughts drift back to Thanksgiving Day, 1965.

As a college student, I, and the group of guys I roomed with, worked in the cafeteria. In addition, we had all learned to cook while still living at home. As a result, we often created some scrumptious meals.

A perfect example is the time we decided to hold a spaghetti dinner for our entire fraternity. We made the noodles from scratch. We also made the salad dressing from scratch. (We’d forgotten to buy it and one of the guys spent a summer working as a salad chef in Atlantic City.)

Just prior to the Thanksgiving break in 1965, we decided to have our own turkey dinner. We cooked everything from scratch and shared a marvelous meal.

Then we all headed to our respective homes to enjoy the time with our family and friends.

On the big day, we sat down to my mother’s version of the Thanksgiving feast. Everything was going great until one of my brothers looked at me and said, “It must be great for you to come home to such a wonderful home cooked meal!”

I never told my family that I lied that day.

Of course I said “Yes! It is wonderful!” However, I couldn’t help thinking about the great feast we had enjoyed in Edinboro, Pennsylvania. I also couldn’t admit the one ingredient that made my college meal better than my mom’s.

My friends and I had enjoyed a few bottles of wine with our dinner. Mom wouldn’t have dreamed of serving any sort of alcohol with her meals.

Red wine sure goes well with turkey. I wonder if my step-son will serve red wine today.

Whether he does or not, I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time.

Between us, my bride and I have seven grown children and thirteen grandchildren. I’d say we have lots of things to be thankful for on this turkey day.

Latest “Guidelines” a Bad Omen

Last week the government announced new guidelines for pap smears and mammograms. In short, the recommendations are – women don’t need to have the tests as early or as often.

Last evening I heard a doctor state that the Medical board – appointed under President Bush – that reached these conclusions, recognizes that if their recommendations are followed, more women will die of cancer.

SO WHAT GIVES?

This is a prime example of how government run health care will work. Treatment and diagnostic tests will be administered based on statistics and the advice of accountants.

I don’t know the exact numbers, but – for the sake of argument – let’s say that only 10% of pap smears come back with a positive result – meaning there are cancerous cells present. That means 90% of the tests were a waste of time and money. Think of all the money that can be saved by delaying the beginning of testing and reducing the frequency… and only ten percent of the women tested will have a problem due to the money-saving measures.

The same scenario would hold for mammograms. Why waste all the time and money if most of the test results are negative?

Come on America! It’s time to save money.

We sincerely send our regrets to those who die because your cancer wasn’t discovered soon enough to save you.

Let’s hear it for Government Run Health Care!

Pufferbellies

Two of my granddaughters are becoming violinists. I’m very happy to see their interest in music and do what I can to encourage it.

Recently Rachel began singing a little tune and seemed rather shocked when I joined in. “See the little pufferbellies all in a row.”

Not surprisingly, my twelve-year-old granddaughter had no idea what a pufferbelly was. I gave her a brief explanation, but our visit to Paducah, Kentucky provided me with a perfect pictorial example.

A not-so-little pufferbelly

As with so many things I run across nowadays, seeing the steam locomotive brought back more than a few memories.

For example, I recall my parents taking us to see Rook Station near Carnegie, Pennsylvania. Besides having a fairly large rail yard, Rook Station had a round house where the pufferbellies could be turned around and maintained.

A similar turn-table in Savannah, Georgia

I also remember a time when I was about Rachel’s age that I went on a field trip to the Pennsylvania Railroad Station in downtown Pittsburgh. Part of the tour included an animated film telling us about the future of railroading. They were getting ready to introduce diesel locomotives which would spell the end of most pufferbellies.

The "new" locomotive on the Branson Scenic Railway

A few scenic railways still use the steam engines, but they are becoming harder and harder to find. I believe the one that runs out of Bryson City, North Carolina is still using a pufferbelly.

A few years back I discovered how intense true railroad buffs are. I was working at a lumber yard in Texas when a load of old railroad ties was delivered. Almost immediately there were swarms of men intently searching for nails stuck in the wood. But these weren’t ordinary nails; they had two digit dates embossed in the heads. Those dates indicated the year the tie was put into place and were used to help the workers determine when to replace the tie. To my surprise, the nails were seen as valuable collectors’ items. I managed to obtain one and passed it on to Andy Sarge.

I mention Andy’s name because I’m hoping he can answer a question of two. While we were watching the Veteran’s Day parade in Branson, there were two machines working on the tracks of the scenic railway. The first machine was the one shown below:

A machine with steel teeth biting into the ground.

A closer look at the teeth

The teeth seemed to be used to loosen the dirt and gravel along side the track. Another interesting feature of this machine was the flimsy looking device being pushed ahead of the machine.

Unknown gizmo being pushed ahead

This thing seemed to be about twenty or thirty feet in front of the first machine. After this machine passed by, it was followed by a second machine.

The second machine

This machine would periodically drop the gray device in front and kick up a bunch of dust. I assume there were brushes cleaning the rails or redistributing the gravel loosened by the first machine.

Hopefully, Andy or some other railroad buffs will enlighten me.

In the meantime, let’s return to pufferbellies. Back in the late forties or early fifties, the Four Preps took that children’s song and produced the following recording.

And that is why I was able to sing along with my granddaughter.

Branson – What a City!

Lu, Yakov, and me

Last week, my bride and I visited Branson, Missouri for the first time. What a city!

If you recognize that Russian in the above photo you know I’m taking liberty with his famous line – “America! What a country!” Yakov Smirnoff was one of the entertainers we saw during our stay in Branson.

The planning for this trip began several months ago when I received an email listing various destinations where we could stay for under $300 for seven nights. The one place on the list that we had not yet visited was Branson. Since we’d heard some good things about the place, we decided to go there to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary.

Early on we decided to drive. The “hotel” was a real bargain and we wanted to keep the costs down to a reasonable level. Because Branson is about 600 miles from our home – and not easily accessible via Interstate highways, we opted to take two days to get there and two days to get back. For variety, we decided to go to Branson by way of Paducah, Kentucky, and return on a southerly route through Memphis.

Murals painted on the "Sea" wall

Paducah sits along side the Ohio River where the Ohio is joined by the Tennessee River. Obviously, the town was flooded many times before a series of flood control dams were built. Prior to the construction of the dams, walls were built with flood gates that could be closed as necessary.

Track for the steel gate built into the wall.

Passing through the gate in the photo above, we had to walk down hill for quite a while before getting to the water’s edge. The river was a bit high that day, but would have had to rise a great deal (I’d guess roughly thirty feet) before reaching the wall. The wall was about fifteen or twenty feet high. If I was in the neighborhood of a flood that high, I’d begin building my ark!

Besides taking a walk by the river, Lu and I visited the American Quilters Museum. I honestly expected to be totally bored. What a surprise! I was amazed at the art work. The people who created the quilts displayed there would put Betsy Ross to shame.

After a good night’s sleep, we moved on to Branson.

All Aboard!

One of the first things we did in Branson was ride the Scenic Branson Railway. We took the dinner excursion which pulled out of the station at 5:00 PM. We made the reservation in August and never gave a thought to the end of daylight savings time. It was an excellent meal, but we saw little beyond the dark of night as we gazed out the windows.

The next event was the Yakov Smirnoff show.

Yakov singing "From Red to Redneck"

For the uninitiated, Yakov came to American when he was in his early twenties. At the time he could speak no English. Most of his humor deals with his misunderstanding of our language. For instance, he told of driving across the country and being encouraged by signs saying, “Right on! Red”. He also felt very welcome when billboards proclaimed, “America loves Smirnoff”.

The next day we took a ride on a showboat.

My bride waiting to board the Branson Belle

Inside the showboat

The show featured a number of acts, but our favorite was Todd Oliver with his talking dogs.

We saw two other shows while we were there – “The Twelve Irish Tenors” and “Broadway’s Spirit of Christmas”. We were not permitted to take pictures at those theaters.

Earlier I referred to our accommodations as the “hotel”. In truth, it was a condo with a full kitchen, living room, Jacuzzi tub, balcony and much more than we expected.

The "living" area of our condo

To make the entire trip even more enjoyable, I was able to use “points” to get free motel stays in Paducah and Memphis, and Lu won $100 worth of Shell gasoline gift cards. We had also bought gift cards through our church fund raiser for restaurants and grocery stores. Thus, most of the trip was pre-paid! What a vacation!

The motel in Memphis left a lot to be desired. It was along the Mississippi River among a group of deserted warehouses.

Abandoned warehouses in Memphis

There was one other highlight of our trip. While some people might not see it in the same light, we felt honored to have the next picture taken.

Lu, Oliver North, and me

Colonel North was in town for the Veteran’s Day celebration. In fact, Branson, Missouri has an entire week of festivities to honor our veterans. Watching the parade was another highlight for us.

An old fart showing off

When we first told our friends we were going to Branson, many teased us about going there to gamble. Well, it’s a good thing gambling wasn’t our main intention. There are no casinos in Branson.

But there are many great shows, museums, restaurants, amusement parks, and other attractions that make Branson a wonderful place to visit. We were told the average age of visitors is 57, but I assure you there is something to do for people of all ages. As far as I could tell, all the shows are family friendly.

I should also note that I am not being paid for this endorsement, but if the convention and visitors bureau of Branson wants to invite my bride and me back as their guests, we’ll be glad to go!

Emptiness

Uncle Lewis died of a heart attack in February of 1961. We tried to drive to New Jersey to attend his funeral but were turned back by a heavy snow storm. I’m sure Dad was extremely unhappy about that, but there was nothing he could do. Taking an airplane was not an option for a family struggling to get by.

Mom died of a heart attack in March of 1966. That came as a total shock to me. I’d never been told that she had a bad heart. She died just short of her sixty-sixth birthday. Her death hit me hard and, forty-three years later, it still hurts.

Between Uncle Lewis and Mom, I had a few other aunts and uncles die. I also had a childhood friend killed in a car wreck. Death was not new to me, but Mom was the first person who was so dear to me.

Her funeral turned into a big reunion; that angered me. I grew angrier as people told me they knew exactly how I felt. People deeply grieving don’t want to hear such words.

A lot of years have passed since Mom’s funeral. Come to think of it, so have all my remaining aunts and uncles… and my father. Dad died in 1974. He was eighty-two. Dad’s health was great until the last few months of his life. His health went down rapidly and – as much as I hate the platitudes – his death was a blessing.

Our family was able to go a number of years before we lost any other close members. In the late 1980’s we lost my sister Wilda’s husband, Jude. In the early 1990’s my sister Gert lost her husband, Mac. Those two men were both more than twenty years older than me; they were more like additional fathers than brothers-in-law. Although they had very different personalities and careers, they both served as role models to my brother Lewis and me.

In October 2002, we lost my brother, Seward (known to his friends as Bill). He’s the one who witnessed the atomic bomb test on the Bikini Atoll. He died of cancer and we can’t help believing that the radiation led to his terrible disease. Seward was seventy-four when he died.

Last month, Seward’s twin brother, Somers, passed away. Somers had a myriad of ailments that included Parkinson’s disease, a pulmonary problem resulting from exposure to asbestos, and a bad heart.

While we could pull out that old platitude – ‘His death was a blessing” – for both of the twins, it doesn’t make the void in my life any smaller.

I recently told some friends that losing Somers (known to his friends as Lew) was like losing the last part of a matching set. As long as Somers was alive, it seemed that Seward was there as well.

My brother, Lewis (known to his friends as Doug) wrote a letter to be read at Somers’ funeral. In it, he stated that it was difficult to think of one of the twins without thinking of them both. The family often talked about Seward and Somers. Their friends often talked about Bill and Lew.

The twins never dressed alike, but they often participated in the same events. They both loved sports and attended away games as often as home games. They both belonged to the same bowling leagues and took turns tending bar to supplement their incomes (to help pay for the road trips).

And now they’re both gone.

The twins were sixteen years older than me. In that respect, they were much like Jude and Mac… additional father figures and role models for Lewis and me.

Phil Coulter, the Irish songwriter who wrote the words recited in the video at the beginning of this post, composed a song called “The Old Man”. The words are of a man leaving the funeral of his father. He laments about all the things his father taught him and the wonderful times they had together. His final words…

“God, I miss him… the Old Man.”

God, I miss them… my parents, my brothers-in-law, and the twins.

I’m NOT a Salesman

During my career with IBM, I was occasionally asked to go into sales. As a Systems Engineer and customer education instructor, I had a thorough knowledge of the product line. That is something IBM held in high regard way back when.

My answer was always “No” because of my personality. While I could firmly believe that I knew what was best for a customer, I never felt I was persuasive enough to convince anybody that I was right. Furthermore, being a ‘people person’ I would not be able to convince a customer to spend money on IBM equipment if it meant laying off employees to fit the expense into the budget.

So, here I am – many years later – trying to sell a ‘product’ to the members of my church. While I am convinced it is the best solution to our on-going problem (paying the mortgage), I doubt if I’ll be able to convince people to change their spending habits for the sake of our church.

The product I’ll be ’selling’ to our congregation is called scrip. Very simply, we will sell gift cards to our members. They will pay face value and receive face value. However, we will buy the gift cards at a discount. The savings will go toward our debt reduction.

On the surface, it’s a great way to raise money. If I buy a one hundred dollar gift card for WalMart, I’ll be able to spend one hundred dollars at WalMart, and the church will have a few dollars to apply to the debt.

My bride and I recognize that we’ll have to drastically change our spending habits to take part in the program. Normally, we make all our purchases using credit cards and pay the bills in total at the end of the month. We’re literally using the bank’s money for a month… at no charge.

With the scrip program, we’ll have to pay cash-in-advance for the gift cards. It won’t cost us any more than we normally spend, but we’ll be using our own money instead of the bank’s during the month.

We have only one credit card that pays cash dividends for its use. It doesn’t pay much, but it was better than nothing. Lots of people have cards that reward them with frequent flier miles and other benefits. They’ll have to decide if helping to pay down our church’s debt is worth losing the points. There’s a good possibility that the new credit card legislation will solve this issue for us, but I can understand why people might want to continue with their status quo until the perks disappear.

I’ve done some calculations. If we managed to get one hundred percent participation in the scrip program, we’d net close to a hundred thousand dollars a year to apply to our debt reduction. And no one would be asked to donate any additional money to the church. From that perspective, it’s one of the best products I’ve ever seen.

The challenge remains – can I convince others.

Stay tuned. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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Also stay tuned for my take on President Obama’s health care plans. I’ve viewed two videos on the subject. One was put together by a Canadian trying to use humor to demonstrate how terrible Socialized Medicine is. The other was put together by a union to demonstrate how much better the Canadian system is.

I’m sure both have used statistics and facts to fit their arguments. In any case, I’m trying to go beyond what I’m hearing on the Fox News Channel, and the three major networks. I figure the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

One thing that puzzles me… why do unions continue to support the politicians who are causing jobs to be lost? I would think they’d get behind the Libertarians and, like many of us, say that all incumbent professional politicians need to be replaced.

Are the union leaders getting special treatment? Are they betraying their membership for their own gains? It wouldn’t be the first time such things have happened in this country.

Getting Closer

With any luck, we’ll have all the ceramic tiles in place today. Then we can apply the grouting.

By tomorrow, we’ll be able to begin putting everything in place between the counters and wall cabinets. After that, the sealer will be applied and the kitchen will finally be done.

And yet… I have a feeling my bride will find something else that needs to be done.

Well, time to get on our way to church. This afternoon may find us painting the front porch and cutting the grass… in addition to the grouting.

There’s a lot of maintenance work that goes into owning a home, but I’ll gladly take it over apartment living in a heartbeat.

Too Many Projects – Too Little Time

Today began with an 8:00 a.m. meeting at the church. Being the host, I arrived around 7:20 and started the coffee.

That meeting ended near 11:00 a.m. and I arrived home in time to learn that my son is still planning on holding his belated birthday party today. We’ll have to leave here around 4:00 to get there on time.

In the meantime, we are gluing ceramic tiles to thin boards prior to applying the grouting. In the next day or two we’ll glue those pieces to the walls between our kitchen counter-tops and the wall cabinets. Then, we’ll add the sealer.

We’re also painting the front porch and applying wood sealer to our side porch. We sealed the deck a couple of weeks ago.

In the next week or so, I need to contact four musical groups and arrange for them to appear at our Lutherans of Forsyth County picnic scheduled for August 15th.

In my spare time, I will put the finishing touches on my Power Point presentation to encourage our congregation to buy into the scrip program so we can begin chipping away at our mortgage and other debts.

I’m really looking forward to our old fashioned picnic. But I guess that other stuff has to be done as well.

Michael Jackson’s Band Wagon

If you don’t mind, I’d rather toss Michael under the band wagon.

For many of us, yesterday’s bigger loss was the death of Farrah Fawcett who finally lost her three year battle with cancer. Even with her tremendous suffering, Farrah had the courage to put together a documentary of her struggle to demonstrate the importance of not giving up.

And what was Michael Jackson doing during the last three years? I really don’t know and I obviously don’t care. After the repeated accusations of child molestation, the plastic surgeries to make him look more like Liz Taylor, and his many other idiotic actions, I got tired of hearing his name.

In many ways, I feel sorrier for Michael than I do for Farrah. Farrah was battling a physical enemy. Michael’s enemies were mostly in his own mind.

When the Jackson Five first came on the scene in the late 60’s, I was a big fan of the young Michael Jackson. As time progressed and his musical style changed, I lost interest. Perhaps that was my fault for getting old. I quit listening to rock and roll music as it evolved toward what it is today. Somewhere along the line, I switched to country music which, today, is more reminiscent to the rock and roll of my youth. With country music, a story is told and I can understand the lyrics. (That’s how I know a story is told.)

The young Mr. Jackson was very good looking. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his appearance. But then his skin began to get lighter and his nose turned into something you’d expect to see on a Caucasian. In truth, it makes me wonder what his body looked like. How far down his neck did the doctors go when they turned his skin lighter?

Enjoying cookies and milk and sleeping with little boys. I don’t care how much of a Michael Jackson fan you are – that is beyond weird. It makes me wonder what sort of demons shared that body with the fabulous entertainer.

Yes. I called him a fabulous entertainer. While I didn’t care for his music, millions of other folks disagreed with me. They loved his concerts.

During the last American Idol, I thought sure Adam Lambert would win because, of all the other contestants, he was the best entertainer. He seemed to be a natural on the stage… just as Michael Jackson was.

Kris Allen is a very talented young man, but he doesn’t have the stage presence of Adam Lambert. I think Adam lost because most Americans thought sure he was going to win. So, they either didn’t bother to vote, or they voted for Kris to make it close.

I think a similar thing happened when Bill Clinton beat George Bush. Everyone was sure Bush would win, so many voted for Ross Perot… so that Bush wouldn’t win by a landslide.

Oops! I strayed off the original topic. My apologies.

Getting back to Michael, I always hate to see a person die before his or her time, but I can’t help wondering how much Michael’s demons contributed to his demise. In a way, he’s been fighting his own form of cancer for most of his life. Maybe that explains his weird behavior.

Numerous personalities have stated that most of us will long remember where we were and what we were doing when we heard the news of Michael’s death. Some likened it to the death of Elvis Presley – another performer I didn’t really care for. Some even went so far as to compare it to the death of John F. Kennedy.

Sorry. That takes it too far. Both entertainers were extremely popular with their fan base, but the assassination of a United States President is more than a little different.

I have no idea of what I was doing on the day of Elvis’ death. I couldn’t even tell you the year he died let alone the month and day. Soon I’ll be in the same situation with Michael’s death (as well as Farrah’s), but I’ll never be that way when it comes to JFK.

I was a sophomore at Edinboro State Teachers College on November 22, 1963. I was at my off-campus housing when I heard JFK had been shot. I then walked into town where I got the word that he had died.

Come to think of it, it’s a bit troublesome that our culture puts more emphasis on the lives of entertainers than on politicians. No wonder our government is so screwed up.