Out to breakfast at my favorite diner. There seemed to be a lot on this blog about dining.
That should come as no surprise to those who know me. I like to eat–it’s a challenge to enjoy fine dining and stay healthy.
Preparations need to be made for an extended trip out of town. There’s still plenty of time.
This Father’s Day, I’m content to take a back seat–watch children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. If they attain success, then I’m happy.
What did I remember most about my father, twenty-two years after his passing?
Like other men of his generation, he wore hats. His favorite was a gray fedora. Fathers, back then dressed up more, than fathers do today.
Most in the community thought him to be extremely patient and even-tempered. They never got on his bad side–like I did, on occasion.
He was a man of faith. His relationship to his maker was most important. We read the Bible aloud, from cover-to-cover, in family devotionals–down to every begat, whereas, and wherefore.
His lame jokes, that made everyone cringe, notwithstanding; if it were possible, on this Father’s Day, I would tell him that his example made a difference.
“Put some elbow grease into it,” really meant putting more effort into a task. It’s a strange expression, if taken literally. What was elbow grease? Where did the expression originate? Did well-lubricated elbows function more efficiently?
“Your eyes were bigger than your stomach.” An expression that went along with, “waste not, want not.” Don’t take something if you don’t really want it. How could someone’s eyes be bigger, than one’s stomach? What a freak show that would be.
“If it thundered in December, it would snow in May.” An old bromide from my Midwestern roots. It did occasionally snow in April, rarely in May. The point was, December thunder and lightning storms, were weird. It was supposed to snow in December.
“Blue racer snakes would chase you.” I never had it happen to me–that was the legend. Also, if the snake was cut into pieces, left for dead; it would come back together overnight, and slither away.
Chickens weren’t exactly the brainiacs of the barnyard. It was alleged, that if one got a chicken to stand still, and a line was drawn in the dirt, the chicken would stand still, mesmerized.
Good luck charms: Rabbit’s feet, horseshoes, four-leaf clovers–how did these come to be regarded as good luck charms? Some people had “lucky shirts.” …Lucky colors, …Lucky days. I guess just about anything could be a good luck charm–if we wanted it to be. One thing’s for sure, the rabbit charm, wasn’t lucky for the rabbit.
If not shared?
Throughout the ages, things were named
Things did what things were intended to do
Sometimes same things had different names
Some people had couches in their living rooms
Others insisted they were davenports
Diehards argued for davinettes
They’d be davinettes, till the day they died
No matter–they were still the same things
Served the same purposes
Some didn’t like current names for things
They preferred different, new “thing” names
New names–for the same old things
Other than being confusing for those familiar
With the old names, things still did the same things
In spite of changes in their nomenclature
There’s not much noisier in the natural world than Great Blue Heron rookeries during mating season. Cars being crushed would compare nicely.
Kids, in their unbridled enthusiasm, were naturally noisy. Parents generally tolerated outside noises, unless someone started crying.
At bedtime, it was a different story. “Knock off that racket and go to bed.” It was best not to press the issue with dad–because soon came the dreaded, “Don’t make me tell you again.”
And if kid noises weren’t enough, there were other ways to make noise. Two blades of grass moistened with just enough spittle, would shriek when blown through. Balloons, playing cards in bicycle spokes, weren’t loud enough. Pieces of wire, metal against metal, made a terrific motorcycle-like cacophony. Which resulted in loose spokes and wobbly wheels.
The cloud of doom hung over my head when my younger brother or sister ran into the house yowling about something I’d done. Nothing else to do, but wait for punishment that always followed.
Pity gift givers that gave us drum sets, clickers, whistles, or noisemakers of any kind. They were likely to be confiscated. Parents just wanted some peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask?