Rear view mirrors.....

 Fourteen years ago I could see colors, but they were all drab, bland.  To eye doc.  Fitty-four years, had never been to eye doc.  Looked at me for what seemed like 30 minutes without a single word.  Finally, "how old are you?".. Fitty-four.  "You have cataracts in both eyes."

Surgery.  Intraocular lens (I think they call it.)  Artificial lens's, where one eyeball sees close up very well, the other, sees long distance nicely.  A miracle. Threw away 12 pair of readers (one in every rooom of the house, the car, work, yada).  If there was any negative, the close and far thing played hell on trying to catch a softball, but size 10 type was cinchy.

To lovely DMV to renew. All the necessary ppwrk, tax junk...finally, eye test. Amazing how well I'd done.  Then, she said "OK, now we're going to cover your right eye (the close up one)"... Oh Sh...Oh Shirt*.  Read the top row please. "There's a row?" I thought to myself.  The nice DMV lady could see I was struggling, and she whispered.."bah..bah...bah" "B" I answered! Then, "haa...haa...haa." "H!"...and all the way down three rows, she assisted.  Whew.

Fast forward to 2020. Oh *shirt, time to renew.  Walk in, nice lady don't work there no mo'.  Oh *Shirt.  Came time to close the close-up eye and try to read letters with the far-away-can-see-an-ant-at-the-end-of-the-block, but not one right below me.  I failed that part.  That's it. I'm never driving again. I can't work any longer.. Hell, I'm gonna have to move closer to the...Piggly Wiggly. (I was gonna say bar, but thought you might not think well of me.)

"So I failed?"  "OH NO SIR, it just means we'll have to put on your driver's license "left rear view mirror mandatory."  Whew.

Thank heaven, for little girls.  No.. that ain't it.  Thank heaven for rear view mirrors.

Rear view mirrors tell us much about life. Life in the rear view mirror of 2020 makes us realize, time is precious'er.  I know that ain't a word. Again, should be. We can bitch about much - but the river of life is gonna keep right on flowin'.  We can bemoan "Oh *shirt... he won, she won, he didn't, life, as we know it, is over."  It ain't.

We can get twelve shades of pissy (which I have) on political diddys.  Or not. We can, have had, 'battle' with those inclined to not think exactly as we each do. I/we, have been idiots, gotten pissy...I blocked someone not long ago, a classmate actually.. the other day, I messaged an old friend - he's politically opposed to me.  He didn't reply.

Time is precious'er.  Sorry, but screw that (political regurgitation). Bottomline, we're probably never going to change allegiance - so, pissy makes no sense.

 Health.  The rear view mirror of 2020 shows us the many fatalities along the way. Some, very old age, maybe expected.  Some, shocking.  Too soon.  Some, the pandemic.  Rear view mirror now shouting "PRECIOUS'ER."  Life, that is.

I ain't no preacher, I'm no longer a teacher, I've never been a mechanic over and above knowing Lefty-loosey, Righty-tighty.  That said...for 2021:

Hopefully calm prevails.  The rear view mirror has taught us, sometimes we simply aren't allowed, permitted, to see loved ones in person.  We can't forget how precious that is.

We had taken "STEEEEE-RRRRRIIIKKKKKE ONE" and "FIRST DOWN!" for granted....Hell, even curling ceased. Sure, we can still holler 'git ridda the manager, put somone else on the mound, at cornerback, in the GM office, yada.'  Just revel in the luxury of being able to do/say that.  The rear view mirror tells us it ain't a given. (Along with many things, a full church service, dinner out with friends, heck, even being entitled to attend a funeral to offer condolence.)

Thank God for children. Some, sadly, don't know anything over and above pandemic life. Oh how well they teach us.  Without the advantage of a rear view mirror they gleam, glow about life. We can learn from them.

Sorry I rambled. I'll get outta here. Main missive: relax. It's a given we will slip up. Don't beat ourselves up. We're human. Kind is always best. Our outer affects our inner. We see, believe, differently, and that will always be the case.  Facial expression is a choice. So are words.

The rear view mirror is mandatory.

2019 we took for granted.  Having 2020 in the rear view mirror (Thank God it's in the rear view mirror) teaches us life is precious'er for 2021.

Happy New Year,

Love, Victurd

Crazy...

 As a freckled-faced youth, my folks (and sister) helped found the local theater group.  Play after play they did.  "Victor?  Why don't you be in onea our plays?"  With apologies to my folks, and borrowed from my stepson, "Not no's, but hells no's."

A few years later I consented to do so, my one and only play ever. I did NOT miss a single line.  Quite proud I was to have perfectly played a deaf mute.  True.

The other morning I renewed my acting career by playing Ebenezer Scrooge.  Eh why not, it's that time of year.  I live in an old house converted into three apartments. I live on the lower level, and above me lives a couple of young men and the 23 other friends they entertain every weekend.

I love music, I do.  Usually though, not at 3am. Or 4, or 5.  Good kids, horrible neighbors.  They run, jump, yell, scream, yada.  There are verbal battles from their porch to others down on the ground.. at 3am.. 4am.. and 5am.  The local authorities have memorized directions to our building as neighbors have called them at least three times when I've been home.

I never have complained (until this blog I guess) - pretty much just figured one day someone else would live there - or, if it kept up, I'd move somewhere. Swore the move here was my last, but, I could scrape together coin for 2 Men and a Truck.

They are messy 'children.'  Certainly not basketball players as, when they aim at the trash barrels, they never make it.  For many a week, I embarrassingly went out and picked up trash, broken bottles, placed the trash cans back in their proper place, and even left an old man grumpy note on one, "Hey guys, please let's have some pride in where we live and keep the trash off the ground and in containers." Signed, "Grumpy Vic." (Or, "pops" as they call me.)

The morning after my note, and the last time I cleaned after them, I woke up to find a pumpkin, thrown from their porch, smashed to smitherines all about the yard.  They enjoy breaking furniture.  Chairs, hi-chairs, tables, yada.  Scattered in pieces, all tossed from their 2nd floor balcony.  A new item weekly.  FINALLY, finally - after the 4th trip by the cops to their joint - I took a picture of the yard, texted it to the apartment owner, "Do you drive by here?"  They were nice. Said "they are on way out, it takes 4 months to legally do so." I am embarrassed when people drive by.  Oh, I'm a slob, but not intronta my place!

Soooooooooooooooo.... After 6 hours of sleep (2 from 10pm to midnight.. 2 from 2am to 4am.. 2 more from 6am to 8am)... I set sail for Wally World to grab a few things.

Now, their music has a nice beat, it does. In fact, they have a mini studio for recording rap music.. and they play background "beat music" all the time.  I mean, all the time.  All thru the night.  (Almost done bitching, sorry.)

So, with toothpicks in place to prop eyelids, before I departed .. I tuned good ole Pandora to Classic Country (I figured the whippersnappers might enjoy that!)...  Aha, Patsy Cline's Crazy - first song up.  I cranked that sucker up, s'more and s'more. I'm in apt #2, a buddy lives in #1, and party-hardy boys are in #3.  With apologies to buddy in Apt#2, Patsy was LOUD.. on purpose  VERY, VERY loud.  Pun mebbe, Crazy loud.  Kept the ole stereo going, with smirk, headed out door to car to Wally World.  It felt good.  Real good.  Ebenezer Scrooge good.  Hehe.

Once home, I decided to look up "Patsy Cline's Crazy song meaning."  You might already know all this. I didn't.  It was actually written by a struggling country music singer named Willie Nelson. Patsy recorded it, it became a hit, and was one of Willie's most enduring songs - even on his debut album in 1962.

Two months before it was recorded, Patsy was thrown through a windshield in a car accident.  She temporarily couldn't hit the high notes....so... the musicians recorded their part, she rested for a couple of weeks - came back, with broken rib and standing in the studio on crutches - she recorded her part.  Crazy huh?

A favorite story of mine, Victor, you've told us this one before. Ahem.  A favorite story of mine... there was a kid's radio show where the star was Cowboy Bob.  One day, Cowboy Bob forgot to turn off the mike as the show ended - and all across  snotnose land came "THERE, that oughta please the little bastards."

Kinda how I felt that morning I cranked Pandora, Patsy and Crazy.

Love, Merry Christmas,

Ebenezer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbnrdCS57d0

Three things....

 For the vast majority of people, this has been THE MOST trying year of a lifetime.

We all seemingly have a 'right' to gripe, moan, suffer self pity, play "ain't it awful", yada.  

Then you look around.  Friends, loved ones. Loss.  Loss of parent(s).  Loss of mate.  Loss of loved one.  Loss of good friends.  A life changing event.  It makes me, at least, feel sheepish for the above "woe is me" attitude.

Jim Valvano was a basketball coach.  A good one.  A dynamic one.  In 1983 he took what had been a very average North Carolina State team to the NCAA basketball tournament where they ran past EVERY single opponent, culminating with the National Championship over a heavily favored Houston Cougar team that included several future NBA players.

After his successful coaching career he went on to become a basketball analyst teaming with partner Dick Vitale - a partnership overflowing with exuberance.

In June of 1992 at the age of 46, Jimmy was diagnosed with metastatic adenocarcinoma, a glandular cancer - a type of cancer that spread to the bones.

In February of 1993, during the ten year reunion of the Championship team, he gave a dynamic "Don't Give Up, Don't Ever Give Up" speech in which he spoke to the importance of hope, love and persistence.

Eleven days later, he was to receive the Arthur Ashe Courage Award at ESPN's ESPY Awards. He swore, when originally diagnosed, he was going to battle, fight, never give up.

When the night came to receive his award, Jim had dropped 35 pounds and was taking 24 tablets a day of Advil to get through the day.  He spoke to the Dick, told him he was sick as a dog, and didn't think he could do the speech, acceptance that night.  Dick talked him into trying.  He did, and man did he ever.  The speech has become legendary. The link to the legendary speech is below and I encourage you to see it.

To all of us, especially those dealing with horrific lifetime events - Jim speaks of Three Things to do every day:

"To me, there are three things we all should do every day.  We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh.  You should laugh every day.  Number two is think.  You should spend some time in thought.  And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy.  But think about it. If you laugh, you think and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day.  You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special."

The night of Jim's speech, he established "the V Foundation", to raise funds to fight cancer.  Since his speech that night, over $200 million has been raised.

Sadly, Jimmy passed away nine weeks after the speech. Jim practiced what he preached and he lived every day with exuberance.   With hope, love and persistence...  and doing the three things daily..   Laughing. Thinking.  Crying.

Love and hugs to all, with an extra hug for those going through extremely trying events.

(To watch, plz copy and paste, thanks)  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHKzH6zR8xE

Ask Sherwin-Williams...

Harry S (for Nothing) Truman proudly held up the newspaper declaring "Dewey Wins"....  A longtime friend tells me that pic was taken at The Elms in Excelsior Springs, MO.  Cool.

Today, rare we ask Dewey (Decimal System) anything.  So, once again, Dewey loses.

We could ask Quora.. eHow...  wikiHow.. Yahoo! Answers.. Bing.. and of course the good old standby Google.  I tend to ask Google for help, one, because it pops up whenever I open a web page.  Sometimes though, my pc will get cyber-herpes, some damn other search engine will invade and I have to have and Act of Mitch McConnell to get it back to Google.  Griped, sorry, kinda.

I really have no idea where I'm going with this.  I have a beloved friend who monitors, announces, commentates (on Facebook) as the Chiefs play.  Yesterdays postings included:   Shit!...   Shit Shit Shit.. and finally, Woo Hoo, SUCK IT BRADY!... (those were it, her entire posts.)  So, I pictured being in her shoes, six years from now, when Facebook memories pop up and it relates "On this day six years ago.." and the post SHIT SHIT SHIT appeared.  Sorry, not very, to cuss - she's hilarious and has a wonderful heart to match.

My train of thought left the tracks - oh yeah, now I remember.  I read another friends post (and responses) - these recapped the just completed Chief's victory with:  "Where is the defense?"  "Better get heads back in game." "Should have won by three touchdowns."  "Defensive line was missing in action."  "Playing sloppy." TBC (that's To Be Continued, thought that paragraph was plenty long enough, better start anuther.)  

Heavens to Murgatroyd for the love of Sherwin-Williams!  One would think we'd hear Romeo Crennel crying on the post-game.. that the blood wasn't dry yet in that horrendous incident in the parking lot at Arrowhead.. and that the Chiefs now stand at 2 and 12. TBC.

Nope, the Chiefs won 27-24.  Against...against, the greatest quarterback of all-time. (Yes, our guy is headed toward that moniker, but too early to get carried away.)  Patrick now has enough minimum numbers now where he is though, the best of all-time in certain categories.  We are now 10-1. Tyreek had more yards in one quarter than Geiger Ready-Mix sells in a year's time, not to mention he challenges Nadia Comaneci in the floor exercise. TBC, sorry, kinda.

I get it.  Fan = fanatic. One win, we froth for two. Six wins, we finally lose, we don't speak to our spouse the entire way home after attending the Chief's party.  Win the Super Bowl, Feed Me Seymour! "NOT ENOUGH!"  Gimme s'more perty please.

In fairness - I've been there.  I gripe and groan with the best of 'em too.  I Googled something about being spoiled, and up popped "Quora" - where common folk like you and me (scary ain't it?) write in and give their opine.

First lady stated it all very well I thought.  "When you are spoiled, you think you have everything you want and need. You are never satisfied. And soon you discover you cannot really get everything you want."  Would make for a catchy tune eh Mick?

"I think sometimes we get what we want, but not what we need." Mick? Did you steal that?  TBC

"Happiness is based on fulfilled relationships and a feeling of worthiness that comes when you do things that better the lives of others.  Even small things like giving and older person a seat on the bus. (Hear that ya whippersnappers??!) or opening the door for someone.  Happiness doesn't go hand in hand with money and living a life of luxury." (And I ain't comparing the Football post to that, the simple message is we're oft spoiled.)

Growing up, little did we know Superman's "Faster than a speeding bullet" was talking about the internet.  Google.  Quora.  Ask Yahoo.  Bing (I hate Bing, GD [Gosh Darn] intruder.) 

If we old fart grandparents and parents allowed - our kiddos would live 24/7 with their eyeballs focused on a 2 1/2" by 5" screen, YesSireeBob, lotta places to get answers.. but thankfully we still have teachers, coaches, preachers, the older kid in the neighborhood, mom, dad, big brother, big sister, the scout leader, the boss at our first job - the True Google when Google wasn't cool.

We all, occasionally, can be a tad bit spoiled.  Speakinowhich, throw the damn Turkey day leftovers out, they're spoiled, you'll get trick-e-nosis.

Many ways to turn for answers.  The experts.  The committee of us common folk.  Professionals.  This site, that site.  I know, some you don't believe in. Thankfully, the old fashioned way as well. I believe in love, I believe in old folks. I believe in children. I believe in you. I believe in love. I believe in babies. I believe in mom and dad.  I believe in you.

Still, you can ask Google, Bing, Quora, Yahoo answers.. they might help.  Or, if you simply need the optimal temperature to paint outside.. you can ask Sherwin-Williams.

By Henry Gibson                                                                                                                       (Excerpts by Mick Jagger).

Love,Victurd

 (Tune in tomorrow for "55 great sites for when you need a break at work.")

It bears repeating.....

 Goldilocks was pretty.  She had it all, but, she really didn't.  She'd gone thru men like they were bon bons.. too short.. too tall.. .wrong color hair... he's poor... he lives to watch ESPN, color me "outta here."

So, one day she was on a date with Gilligan.  They'd hopped onto his dinghy, and planned to be gone for only a few hours.  (Get it?  A few hours.) The weather started getting rough, the tiny dinghy was tossed.  If not for the courage of the fearless Gilligan, the dinghy would be lost, the dinghy would be lost.

Goldilocks started in, "I told you the weather was too rough....you only brought one life jacket.. good luck to you." She felt like wave after wave was surely gonna make her upchuck.  That, or she had to go #1, and she kinda thought maybe she already had just a tad.

So, Michael Gilligan rowed the boat ashore, hallelujah,  Michael rowed the boat ashore, hallelujah.  They alit on an uncharted desert island, but that's ok because Goldilocks had to puke, or pee, or both.

She ran thru the forest (she wasn't like us male golfers who simply plop it out and pee behind a tree)... she wanted a real bathroom to go in.  She finally saw a small cabin, went, knocked on the door.  Papa Bear came to the door.

How'd she know it was Papa Bear? Because Baby Bear was close behind asking "who is it Papa?", and, he had hair allover, he looked like he could eat her in one bite, and, he stood on his hind legs. Contrary to the question about Bears going in the woods, well, scoff.. .Papa Bear's home had running water, a stool and even a bathtub.

Goldilocks asked "Papa Bear, can I use your restroom?" Papa Bear stood proudly with his paws crossed, and said "NO, remember, only you can prevent home invasions.... we were invaded once, and it ain't gonna happen again. I spent $7 on Gorilla glue to fix junior's broken chair, ain't happenin' again."

Just when Goldilocks turned to maybe pick out a tree that she could hide behind and tinkle, Papa Bear said "We do have a guest cabin, and behind it there's an outhouse.  You can use it."

"Thank you thank you" Goldilocks said, and she went to pee, or puke, or both.  It was a 3-holer.  "This one's too high" she griped. "Mama must be pretty wide, this one's too big, I might fall in, yuck" she bemoaned.  Finally she plopped on baby bear's hole-in-the-outhouse, and the never happy Goldilocks finally said "This one is just right."

"Whew" she exclaimed as she flung open the door and thoughta what to do next.  She was lost.  She couldn't find the dinghy, but that's ok, her unhappy self thought Gilligan was too dingy, so no dinghy was not a big thingy.

Goldilocks occupied her time in life pretty much bitching and groaning about everything.  "I'll be happy when _____ happens", and "_____" never would happen. She acquired things, but she really had nothing. Life was out to get her, or so she thought. She'd sweep any self induced problem or mistake under the rug.."Not my fault."

She lived her life of "Too."  "Too bitchy, too hot , cold, sweaty, dry/scaly, alone, bothered in a crowd, she was... unhappy and not even a little chair or bed that were 'just right' were gonna change her tune.

About that time a flutest happened thru the woods. "Hi, I'm Mick."  "Hi Mick, I'm Goldilocks."  Mick had just come from the Chelsea Drugstore where he got his presciption filled and had a soda, his favorite flavor, cherry red.

Goldilocks had found a good, polite listener, so, she set in on telling him 40-some years of problems in her life.  "Good Lord" he thought to himself.  Finally, he peeked down at his watch, told her he had to scoot, explaining "Me wife sees our red door, and I promised her I'd paint it black, so I gotta go." He was too quiet, too happy, too this, too that, Goldilocks thought.

As he left he put his flute down and started singing, "You can't always get what you want... you can't always get what you want.. but if you try sometimes, well, you just might find, you get what you need."  Goldilocks thought the tune was kinda catchy, but his voice kinda gravely.  She just can't get no Satisfaction.  She can't get no, satisfaction.

So, off she went, "Start me up" she thought. Around the bend, she ran into Papa Bears mean old cousin Grizzly. Grizzly took one bite outta Goldilocks aorta, and she died right there on the spot. (Not all fairy tales end happily, sorry.)

By now, Gilligan was running thru the forest looking for Goldilocks.  "Anybody Seen My Baby" he'd asked.. "She was right Under My Thumb" They'd shipwrecked early, so, when he started looking for her he was confident "Time Is on My Side, yes it is." By now though, darkness tweren't too far away, so he looked for a big ole pine tree in hopes of it, you guessed it, Gimme Shelter.

OMG, he happened upon Goldie. "She's So Cold" he thought.. he felt for a pulse, nope, "Doom and Gloom," He was distrought.  His little piggy hope "Let's Spend the Night Together" was now passé'.  For a long, long time, he simply sat beside her, As Tears Go By.

So, this is the tale of the castaways, they thought they'd be there for a long, long time, now he's gotta make the best of things, flop her onto his back, it's an uphill climb.

Gilligan reached the dinghy, quickly washed his Sticky Fingers and used his ship to shore to call Goldilocks's sister to relate the bad news. Her sister was a happy sort, always placing others first, ne'er an unkind word...

Ring... ring...  "Magic Kingdom Castle, how may I help you?"  Could I speak to Cinderalla please?... "I'll see if I can fetch her.. she was out shopping with Imelda Marcos, but I believe she's home now."  Gilligan ultimately told Cinderella the bad news.. She cried.  Deep down, she disliked Goldilocks, but she never professed it, never showed it, so why now would she say anyting goofy like having Sympathy for The Devil?

Gilligan made it back to home shore. He met Cinderella and the Undertaker. With care they loaded her in the hearse.  The day before the funeral, the Undertaker called and wanted to know if Cinderella wanted to come see Goldilocks one more time.  She did.  She rang up Gilligan, he'd lost his job as a tour guide and had nothing but time on his hands, "sure, I'll meet you there."

As they wept and looked at Goldilocks's body, the door was slightly ajar, there was a man walking by... it was Mick.... he was singing something about "Well this could be the last time"...irony, I guess.  With the final, dreadful noise of lowering the casket and hearing the lid click, they all turned ghostly white and SWORE they heard a distant "it's too short."  Mick shockingly looked at Gilligan, who gasped and looked at Cinderalla, who damn near fainted as she looked at the Undertaker.. and he said "Don't worry, I can fix that."

The day Goldilocks came upon Grizzly, she had her final, and 19th Nervous Breakdown.

Life, and people, are like elevators, rollercoasters, fastlane, slowlane, up a creek, in a tree house, Cloud 9, or, the other direction.

I guess if there were a moral to this story - it's be happy, kind, caring, considerate, modest, no matter - allow the shoe of life itself to fit - like Cinderella.

Otherwise, you'll get cutoff.

Lyrics by Henry Gibson...writing and arrangement by Keith Richards

Love, Victurd (yes, aware I'm weird, it was 3am when I started writing, wide awake.. but, at least I'm KINDA kind.)

Was bored, so snored.

 I log off because I'm bored. I log back on in five minutes because I'm bored.  Be warned, I'm bored, this could get dangerous.

"Boredom: The desire for desires. " -  Leo Tolstoy

So.. I logged back in to search "boredom ideas."

"Give yourself a manicure or pedicure."  You ever seen a man with a beer belly cut his toenails?  Me neither.

"Take a bubble bath."  I dream for that, I guess I'm wierd, MUCH rather  take a bath than a shower.. I ain't gots no tub.  Next.

"Try out a new facemask or beauty product."  DOH!

"Do yoga."  Scroll to beer belly.

"Take a nap."  OK, brb..  where was I? On the way back I looked in the mirror. On one side of my head my hair actually looked ok.. the other side... flat like a pancake. I giggled.  That wasn't boring.

"Write a poem or a journal."   Duh....

"Write a letter to your future self."  Ahm, OK.  "Dear Mr. Schultze, you look like crap. You gotta pulse? You look bored too.  (DOH!).. Let's see.. I remember you saying "I don't wanna live to be 90."  Well, you're now 89 years, 364 days old.  Now what?"  The end, that was boring.

"Drink tea."  Ahm, no.

"Cuddle with a pet or S.O."   Here kitty kitty.  Spot?  Run Spot! Over here.  C'mere baby, I'll dim the lights and put on some Barry White.  Just remembered, I ain't gotta cat... or a dog.. or an S.O. Next.

"Sit or lay outside in good weather."  We had our first snow in Kansas City today.  Next.

"Bake some desserts."  It's that white thing over there isn't it?  The one where the door opens down to you?

"Rearrange your furniture." Ahm, are you aware the number one thing that puts folks my age in nursing homes is a fall?  Next.

"Update your resume."  K.  Worked here, there, everywhere.  Retired. Working three days a week as a golf course flunky so I can one day have enough stashed away so I ain't gotta work.  Thank you in advance, for your time and attention to my resume."  There, done.

"Clean your makeup brushes."  How did you kno..... Nevermind.

"Make lists."  I AM!  It's still pretty damn boring!

"Donate old clothes or other items to your local charity."  I JUST did that, today! Good idea, and it wasn't boring!

"Go to a play or musical."  Ok.  Ahm, excuse me sir, you are number 11 in line, sorry, you're not going to be able to get in.

"Make a cocktail."  NOW you're talking!

"Try out a new restaurant."  OH BOY OH BOY, YES!  LASAGNA!  "Here you go sir, that's $11.96."  Here's $15 ma'am, please keep the change.  Hey, I wanted to tell you, your parking lot looks really clean and good. I can't wait until the day I get to go inside and try your joint.  Hey, I know it's cold and it's snowing, but I'm kinda bored, do you have some time to chat?"  Hehe.

"Make an effort to learn something new."  OK.  I know!  I'll go find one of David Moffitt's posts!  There's sure to be a word or twenty that I don't know.

"Take a hike somewhere."  Funny you should suggest that.  When I went to pickup my lasagna, and I told that little gal I was bored and wondered if she had some time for idle chit-chat, she too suggested I go for a hike. I will try it one of these days!

"Look for a new favorite quote or saying."  K.  howabout  "Is boredom anything less than the sense of one's faculties slowly dying?" Arthur Helps.   Ahm, Mr. Helps, that don't help.  You see, I wrote that one guy in the future and Lordy Lordy I could tell his facutlties were slowly dying.  Thanks, but later I'll try to find another.  I'm kinda bored with it right now.

OK, a new site. "217 things to do when you are bored."

"Create a vision board for the year."  Let's see.  The 'ex usedta have that voodoo doll on the fridge where she put a pin in for every person that got on her nerves, I think I still have it!  Perfect, and oh so fitting for 2020, the election, all that crap!

"Edit old photos." K, but how do I write on them ones stored in my Android phone photo app?

"Dance and sing."  NOW you're talkin!

"Write a letter of gratitude."  OK.  Dear Mr. Pasta Joint owner.  I had to take two Rolaids after, but don't worry, that lasagna was damn good.  You have the cleanest parking lot of any pasta joint in the area.  The little gal that waited on me was good, kinda brief, but good. Thanks again, and I promise to come back when them stools ain't 6' apart.  Vic

"Do a quick workout."  Ok. Half a push up, off to the fridge.  That work?

"Get into creative writing."  That would be a good thing, for this is very boring.

"Call an old friend."  Guys don't really do that, would texting be ok?

"Watch a classic movie that was made before you were born."  They had movies then?

"Decorate your home according to Feng Shui principles."  Feng who?"

"Fold your fitted sheets."  Sorry, I've got that planned for all day Sunday.

"Learn poi dancing." Did that Feng guy invent that?

"Make a meal plan' Ahm, two hot dogs, one and half minutes in the microwave, the rest of those BBQ Chips, and a Bud Light.  Cinchy.

"Ty origami."  That Feng dude is pushing it now.

OK, I'll stop.  You're welcome.  You gotta admit, it's been pretty El Boro since March.  I don't really think it's finding things to do - it's moreso hugs, handshakes, high fives, nestled around a fire pit, visiting loved ones where you don't fear anyone getting sick.

To me, a positive to this is to realize how really spoiled we are. Good Lord allows us to 'go back' to normalcy, I think we'll be a happier sort. A newfound appreciation for things we'd taken for granted for years.

Just observation, our children have adapted much more easily than us old farts. Kids rock, adults drool.

Sure, I get bored. Certain you do as well. We still have 'highlights' that keep us'a goin.  For me personally, it's working at a golf course (work that is actually fun), lifelong buddies putting up weekly with me taking ten or more golf strokes than they do.  Family, albeit mostly via text.  Royals, Chiefs, MU, local high school sports..   A good book. Facebook.  The Good Book. Lots actually.  I know you do too.

We'll make it.  One foot in fronta the other.  Might be a long walk, but the Good Lord willing, we'll make it.

Going to look in the closet now.  One suggestion was to 'play some bored games', so I'll try to find some.  

By Henry Gibson (Chairman of the Bored.)

Love, Victurd

.

The Way We Were....

Yesterday, Veteran's Day on Facebook, was perfect - the timing impeccable. One could sense the love, proudness, the tears, and sadly, the empty spots at the dining table. Those moments of eye closure, traveling back, smiling, bring yesteryear back, at least for a short.

Our paths are unique, we travel forth with those recollections serving as our own personal 'microchip.'

Our great Nation, while perhaps temporarily frayed, is strong, will be strong - thanks in large part to those who lanterned the way for us. Microsoft did that red underline thing with 'lanterned'. I guess it ain't really a word. Should be.

They say you can't go back. No, of course you can't, but we can close our eyes momentarily, and whenever we wanna, for a respite, go back. The Way We Were... is Who We Were.. and, Who We Are.. Happy Day

Love Victurd

(That's your cue Barbara):

Memories light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories of the way we were
Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another for the way we were

Can it be that it was all so simple then
Or has time rewritten every line
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we?
Could we?

Memories may be beautiful and yet
What's too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it's the laughter we will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were
The way we were

 

Check Engine Light, for Henry Gibson

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth.... no, that ain't it.

5,610 days ago,.....1,662 blogs ago, I started this goofy blog. I guess when one is in the kitchen, they know by the ingredients whatinthehell they are going to cook.

This blog, not so much.  Intent, I guess, is for it to be light, stress-free, hopefully occasionally entertaining...hopefully reminding us all (without preaching, again, I talk to myself) to think positive.

Naming this blog was easy.  Just when you've gotten little Joey to stop smearing poo on the wall, tell you when he's gotta go, no longer have to buy diapers..  .about when Susie understands she's GOT to do what her 5th grade teacher says...  immediately after 'whoa baby hubba-hubba' with wifey.. the boss no longer furrows one eyebrow when he listens to you.. there's food in the fridge, money in the bank, and the sign on the door says No Solicitors... the GD (Gosh Darn) Check Engine Light comes on in the car.

Life happens, goes smooth..   then, uh oh. 'Right front tire pressure one'....'Failing Mass Air Flow Sensor' (the hell?)... 'Ignition Coil Issues'.. 'Replace Catalytic Converter'..   Allofasudden, Joey has gone in his pants..  Susie got detention... wifey said "not tonight".. there's nothing for dinner in the fridge.. and Will I have any money left in the bank after I buy a GD (Gosh Darn) Catalytic Converter?

It never fails.  Happens.  Two summers ago, yippee, was making the 1,265 mile trip to Arizona to see Spring Training.  By my lonesome, but I like me. Long about 723 miles from home, somewhere in the middle of New Mexico, uh huh, Check Engine Light comes on.  Something or other about oil pressure.. as in there wasn't any because my car spit it all out.  It took several days, trip to Arizona cancelled, car fixed, headed home.  That kinda Check Engine Light.

Today I was thinking, if they can build a car that can drive it damnself... back a boat into the water with the touch of a button, pickout and play anything you wanna off Pandora, have your seat heat you until you are sweating, AND give you a back massage..  then they oughta.. they oughta:

Be able to afford, create, invent, the same kinda things (Check Engine Light-wise) for the human. There could be an invisible screen directly in fronta your eyeballs.  Warning messages could pop up when needed.

You know, like "Dryer sheet coming out of left pant leg"... or, you're headed to meet that Match.com beauty and you're warned "Booger coming out of right nostril."

Ya might be walking into boss's office for annual salary review and up pops "Shirt on inside out."  These things could saveya!

Just before you sit down at the poker table with your buddies you see the warning "Static electricity warning, wife's nylon panties affixed to the back of your shirt."

After going to pee... it could play "Zippity Do Dah" if you forget!

You could program it with a list of people, phone numbers, etc, that you have no interest in seeing, dealing with.  At the Piggly Wiggly, "TURN AROUND, so-and-so coming around corner in 8, 7, 6, 5.."

There could be one for dating interests...  you walk into a cafe, you see her.. oh baby does she look nice.. "Warning, don't do it, she fooled around with the gardener and took her hubby for every penny he had."

Or, back to the Piggly Wiggly.. a positive warning.. "YES, turn around, it's worth another look!"

There's listeners... congenial conversationalists.. and then them kinda people you start talking to, twenty minutes in ya ain't done anything but nod your head, you finally get out of it, and they didn't learn (nor care) one thing about you.  Check Engine Light For Humans could warn you in advance with a simple "NOPE."

Or, there could even be a warning for when you're blogging, and up pops "Victor, I don't know if you've ever held their interest, but you're rambling now, time to vaminos."  Gulp, ok!

I'll go.  

Whew, Joey what's that smell?  Hi Baby, what's for dinner, and more importantly, is dessert in store?

Check Engine Light For Humans, by Henry Gibson

Love, Victurd

Meh day..

As I sit around and await the most exciting event of my day (Piggly Wiggly is gonna drop my groceries on the doorstep today).. I figured whyintheheck not see/read all about Tuesday.  I hate when people use copy and paste, nonetheless:  

"Tuesday gets its name from the Anglo-Saxon's god of war Tiu, also known as Tyr to the Vikings. The Romans named their third day of the week after their god of war, Mars. That is why romantic languages like Spanish, French and Italian all have similar names for Tuesday: martes, mardi, and martedi."

The Greeks consider Tuesday as a day of bad luck. They associate Tuesday with Ares, the God of War.. .. Tuesday in Greek is "Triti: which means the third, bad luck comes in threes.   

Simularly, Spanish speaking countries consider Tuesday as bad luck:  "Don't marry, go on a journey, or leave your house on Tuesday (thus, Piggly Wiggly delivery).. More uninspiring Tuesday notes: 

Whilst commuters Pavlov dog it to work on Tuesdays, in the back of their minds they're thinking of retirement, naps, no alarm clock, Fiji and Fufu drinks, still it is the most productive work day of the week. Since Mondays, historically, suck ("Take this job and shove it") Tuesday is also the the day the most job applications come in. 

"Hey Eve, looky at what I found", ie, Tuesday is the day Uranus was discovered. Sorry, kinda, have a sense of humor. 

Tuesday is Wimpy's payday (The hamburger thing), but there are conspiracy theories to that as he never comes around on Tuesdays.

I'm  deducting some folks sit around with remorse on Monday about weekend events, so, guilt leads more Catholics to Confession on Tuesday, moreso than any other day. 

The stock market crashed in 1928 (Black Tuesday) pushing the US into the Great Depression.. D-Day also was on a Tuesday.  

Susan Ker Weld's little cousin could not say her name, uttering "tu-tu' instead, thus, in 1959 she had her name legally changed to Tuesday Weld. For some reason Tuesday is associated with pink - sure I don't mind wearing it, but per the Spaniards, "stay at home", so I do.  

Rudy Tuesday was wrtten by Kieth Richard' about his girlfriend of the 60's, Linda Keith.. Who could hang a name on you When you change with every new day? Still, I'm gonna miss you.

Of course Tuesday is known as Taco Tuesday, but for some reason, Californians choose to BBQ on this day instead, 

This is boring, so I'll get outta here, but, before I do, my favorite Tuesday tradition.  Every Tuesday, precisely at 10pm, the students in the residential area of Lappis near the University of Stockholm, open their windows and shout in an attempt to release all the stress brought on by university activities and life in general. Residents are invited to as well, provided they do so exactly at 10pm.

Yesterday's positive diddy was to change your digital scale from pounds to kilos... today's diddy is to set your alarm for 9:59pm tonight so we can all open windows at 10, then scream, shout, get ridda pandemic, political, couped-up-ed-ness, 2020 yuck.

I'll glady pay you Tuesday for a 60-something, rich, divorced, hard of hearing, no speaky English blonde today...

Love, Victurd

 

 

A November to remember...

 The ballplayers gloves are put up, rest for a few months.  Tractors relegated to barns, blades sharpened, engines overhauled.  Lawn service companies affixing snow blades to their trucks.

Retailers pray for the capability of shoppers to return, hopefully an onslaught of bought.  Rifles are sighted, cleaned, prepared for where the deer, the antelope and Tom play.

Grannies across the nation scour cookbooks searching for the very perfect dessert for after turkey dinner. Tis a wonderful Holiday - no gifts to buy - only gifts of the heart, the hug - the belly.

Golfers refuse to store the clubs in the attic just yet - and sneak outta the house anytime  temps  above fitty we get.  With golf and hunting, many a lady finds it a refreshing break to get the man outta the house.

Shorts and short sleeves go to the extra bedroom closet .. the warm stuff strewn on the bed where we sit - making sure we've conquered the battle of the bulge - and they all still fit.

The trade off for winter winds, windshields scraped, very cold cars to hop into - is that the house if ridden of insects - not a creature of them stirring, except maybe a mouse.  While the weather changes are stark, commuters are now forced to drive home in the dark.

Then there's that one idiot who blogs, reminding us of November's past, present, to wit:

Let's see, there's always the first Thursday of November which is of course National Men Make Dinner Day... annually we set aside a day to thank our Vets.. 

Way back when Abe gave addressed in Gettysburg, a couple of canals opened (Erie and Suez).. a huge war ended (WWI)...Go Directly to Jail, Do not pass Go, do not collect $200 was invented - giving families a winter weather time passer for the season..  we lost a great President (JFK).. 900 drank poison in Jonestown, Guyana... 

Twain was born, Winston too, "And that's the way it is" was born - bringing us truth in news. 

So snotnoses everywhere would no longer be perplexed - Bell invented the push button phone, predecessor to text.

Whoa Nellie, hold the phone - man is November all about the belly:  Ntnl Deviled Egg Day, Ntnl Sandwich Day, Ntnl Candy Day, Ntnl Doughnut Appreciation Day, Ntnl Nachos Day, Ntnl Cook Something Bold Day, Ntnl Pickle Day, Ntnl Homemade Bread Day. Victor this is getting boring, almost done, Ntnl Stuffing Day, Ntnl Parfait Day, and Ntnl Lemon Cream Pie Day...

What else did we miss? NATIONAL: Hug a Bear Day, Forget-Me-Not Day, Happy Hour Day, hiccup, World Kindness Day, Go For A Ride Day, and of course, THANKSGIVING DAY!

It seems like we're mssing something humongous here?.... Hmmmmmm.. what could it be?... Will there come a day, when it didn't matter? (Of course).. 

I've forgetten what else happens in November, but really I'd rather:   Think of the above, see how folks gather.

Those of us in seasonal climes - greet November with brow furrowed, one eye squintied, brrrrr do we haveta.  We'll get there, come spring, won't matter - but we'll prolly be fatter.

Oh well... If you think of what I'm missing in the above, please don't remind me.. I prefer to focus on hugs, kindness, FOOD, uniting us all, getting that one thing behind me. WE, are America.

Love, Victurd

Take me home, country road...

Home.  What better?

Home is where the heart is..

The English word “home” is from the Old English word hām (not the pig) which actually refers to a village or estate where many “souls” are gathered. It implies there’s a physical dwelling involved, but the main idea is that it’s a gathering of people. 

You can have ham at home, but a pigs home is a sty, not a ham. Ohm-hey is PigLatin for home.  Dig?

I love a parade, but I love home better. There are 125 words containing the word home, with the largest two containing 15 letters: psychometrician and homeopathically and neither one ain''t got nuttin' to do with home.

Home is where you cry (first).  Well, before that, it's where you're made (Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah and they ain't exactly strummin' on the ole banjo.)

Where's your home? Oh, it's 449 Miller.  No, no, no, I mean what town?

Home is where we stay mostly still for one-third of our life. Home is yummy, sleep on it.

It could be a bungalow, apartment, house, castle, cottage, villa, multi-family residential, mobile home, igloo, lean-to, yurt, tree house or townhouse, and I'm sure I've missed one or two. (I didn't know either, a yurt is a portable, round tent covered with skins or felt and used as a home.)

Country roads won't necessarily take one home.  Sweet home Alabama ain't for everyone. It ain't necessarily the green, green, grass of home, exceptin' for that one anal guy down the street - makes us all look bad.  The deer and the antelope may play, but not in Chicago cause the houses there are so close there ain't room for a fat man to walk 'tween 'em.

Home is where you can run around in your skivvies, wear a polka dot top with striped pants, wear socks that don't match, and of course you can take your bra off. In fact, I never wear one.

Some folks live for years, years and years in the same home. Some old farts even live in the home where they grew up. If you're in the military, home is kinda like a game of pong.. over here, over there, to there, and there -you get the drift, they ain't got no roots.

Home is a piece of us. We have an affinity for our home. Our hometown. Some, resemble a quilt in that they've lived in several homes in different places, and they too carry a piece of each home in their heart.

Homework is a pain in the butt when yer a kid - and as an adult it's a necessity. It's also a place of relaxation, reflection, rehabilitation, rest, and lotta other words that start with re.

We wear carpets out, make wood floors creaky, ugly up the painted walls over time - even haveta chop down trees that got too damn big occasionally. Still, a fondness.

Family.  One thinks of family when thinking of home.  We only grow up once in our lives...well, some of us ain't there yet, but that's ok... kid at heart works.

I like driving past previous homes.  Let's see, I lived with that girl there, this one with that one, over here with.. VICTOR!  Sorry, it's my life and I'll do what I want (at least until they boot me! Again, we are a piece of every place we've lived.)

We can be homesick.  We can be sick at home, or we can be sick of our home, all three can happen.

One of my favorite 'home' stories was from Bill Cosby (hey, I heard it before we knew his real make up - and back then he was funny.) He had the honor of speaking at his daughter's college graduation.  Speech, pictures, tears of happiness.  They get in their cars to leave. Bill turns right off of the Interstate.  Daughter turns right.  Bill turns left on Clancy Street.  Daughter turns left of Clancy Street.  He make a few more turns, notices daughter in the rear view mirror with each and every turn.  Finally he pulls over.  She pulls in behind him.  "Where are you going?" he asks.. "Well I'm going home.".. Bill asks "Is that somewhere near where we live?"  It is, can be the day and age of the 30-something sleeping until noon and playing video games until 4 in the morning in his parent's basement.

Flying the coup can be difficult, interesting, yummy, scary - all of the above, or all the words to the left.

We who have a home are blessed and I mean that.  I think we've all seen those who don't and it's a really, really sad thing.  I'll never forget taking my son to work a few years ago in downtown Kansas City.. it was 20-something degrees.. just before where I let him off there is a parking garage.. on the first level we could see a person asleep on the concrete.  One wonders, how, why, what happened, where's family, all.  Again, we are blessed.

Why don't you stay-ay-ay, just a little bit longer..

At the birth of the year 2020, the baby slapped the doctor. It's been a year.  We are told "STAY HOME."  Many react in different ways. I can understand feeling controlled, couped up, stir crazy.

Me? I like home.  Of course Barbara, I too would love to return to The Way We Were.- but it just ain't fauciable, er, feasible today.

"Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to."  Ain't sure who said it, but they're correct - at least for me.

In the midst of a pandemic, home ain't a bad place to be.

I hope where you hang your hat is happy,

Love,Victurd

Someone once said "Have a nice day".....................

 Their orate didn't come with no 'structions... so, rather than run to Library, Dewey Decimal System - I Googled,"How to have a nice day":

Apparently, 'make a list' is number one, cause I found lists containing 5, 7, 10, 13, 20, 50 & 100 suggestions/ideas on how to have a nice day.

This whole damn blog is stolen, that said, here are a few of my favorites I found.

Make your bed and pickup around you every morning.  OK, I lied, this is me talking, the idea stolen, but my input here.  I think this is HUGE.  I think we've all had a teenie tiny case of depression - and from what I've found, it includes NOT picking up, and worrying about it tenfold - so, me likes this idea.  Whether I can/will do it, another story.

Place something on your nightstand that makes you smile.

Watch a sunrise and or sunset.

Play music, including your favorite song.

Have good coffee and a delicious breakfast. (Not every 'rule' fits all, but me likes this one.  I LOVE coffee, breakfast.)

Start a blog, ha.

Let go of guilt.

Do something nice for someone else.

Wake up, think "I, not events, have the power to make me have a happy or unhappy day."

Smile to a stranger. Howinthehell will they know today?  I just ordered two smiley face masks.

Plan downtime.

Spend time with a love one.

Play wth your kids (grandkids.)

Close your eyes and breathe deeply.

Each list had exercise on it, so, reckon we should if we must.

Stretch.

Take breaks.

That's enough for now, but researching this has helped me, hope it helps you too..

Love, Victurd

Hide and seek (good)...

 A hospital in Barcelona has been taking recovering Covid-19 patients across the street to admire the views of the beach. Isidre Correa went into Intensive Care on April 14, came out today to begin his recovery, BUT FIRST, sand, sun and sea!

Paola Agnelli and Michele D'Alpaos live in Verona, Italy - the City of Romeo and Juliet and their love story, like Shakespeare's play, involves a balcony.  In February, the beginning of the lockdown in Italy, they noticed one another across the way... looked each other up on social media - messaged ever since and anxiously await their first real date in person!

B..I..N..G..O...  Residents of The Enclave at Round Rock Senior Living have frequent Bingo nights. Their goal was to have a celebrity host, thus, last September (2019) they sent a request to Matthew McConaughey for same.. During the pandemic, McConaughey had the time and ability to do so. With the assistance of Enclave team members, McConaughey, his mother and his wife virtually joined residents for several rounds of bingo with each of the family members calling out the draws.  Bingo winners then got to ask McConaughey a question for him to answer... 

With everyone wearing a mask, imagine the dismay to the deaf and hard of hearing who rely on lip reading for life in general, but more specifically when they go to visit their doctor. Eastern Kentucky college senior Ashley Lawrence - who majors in deaf education - went to Facebook posting two designs of masks, both with transparent screens around the mouth. Good news good news.  Many requested masks, many volunteered to make them!

Making lemonade from lemons - bassackwardly, the pandemic has helped the world's environment.  Scrapped flights, a surplus of crude oil- sitting idle in oil tank rail cars with nowhere to take them boosted a positive into the 50th anniversary of Earth Day. The waters of Venice are now clear, lions lounge on roads normally frequented by safari-goers in South Africa and bears and coyotes wander around in empty accomodation in Yosemite national park in California.

Commnunity spirit maybe never better.  Folks picking up prescriptions, groceries for elderly friends, loved ones. Concerts, singalongs from balconies.. essential workers finally gaining the recognition they've deserved.. Fitbit reports people are getting an average of 17 more minutes of sleep per night!..Many working from home - money saved, not to mention being able to lounge in PJ's all day!.. With the natural surge in internet usage, tech companies are making improvements, installing more servers, data caps are being cut, and mobil data packages have been made cheaper - or even free - providing easier entertainment than ever, despite being stuck at home.

 “I always like to look on the optimistic side of life, but I am realistic enough to know that life is a complex matter.”

— Walt Disney

Training wheels off, circa late 1950's, early to mid '60's...

(Tis a blog about the late 50's, early to mid 60's, life in Liberty, or wherever USA.. don't feel obligated.. follow SnagglePuss left if no interest, or, scroll thru Facebook and jump in some dandy Trump-Biden argument!)

Not too long after graduating from the Big Chief Tablet to lined notebook paper - the coming of age to take the training wheels off happened.  How?  When?

So, I Googled "At what age do kiddos normally take the training wheels off their bike?"..  The top answer was age 5, but of course, some before that, some after that. Regardless, our brains weren't ripe so most of this blog would be nonsensical to a 5-7 year old snotnose.

Gosh do you remember though?  An eerie feeling... I personally was not the Little Engine That Could (I think I can, I think I can)...  I was seven colors of red scared.  Matched my red bike and red hair.  About all I could remember thinking about was the night my folks let me stay up late enough to watch Johnny Carson, and he had footage of those birds that took off, but had no idea how to land.  That, was me. And, I think about anyone that first time. Taught muscles.. balance hiccupping from the right side to the left side.. a bit like a 707 that takes forever to get off the ground... 

And, if memory serves - that's kinda what it felt like - flying.  I remember being too scared to smile, very worried about eventually 'landing' on the sidewalk insteada the grass.. 

"That's one small pedal for (little) man, one giant roll for (little) mankind.  Or girlkind."  The freedom of being able to ultimately navigate a bike, ranks up there with crawling.. then walking.. then running.. then walking to school alone.. to.. "hand over the car keys, please"..  to love and marriage and a baby carriage - and the cycle repeats.

At that age, I was pretty much a simpleton.  No idea of the events occurring in our land in in our world (and atmosphere and beyond atmosphere)...  Seems though - there was a lot going on... 

Castro begins his long reign.. a 24 yr old Dalai Lama and tens of thousands of Tibetans fled no no Lhasa to the safe haven of India.

Danger danger warning warning Will Robinson (which, actualy hadn't happened yet.. that show premiered in 1965) - BUT..  THIS GOOFY BLOG AIN'T GONNA BE FUNNY - it's more about "back then."  Ahm, Victor, whomever, or is it whoever, said your blogs were funny?  Bite me Tom Terrific-breath.

Long about this era Khrushchev (Pat, I'd like to buy a vowel) replaced Stalin.  Maybe a tad better, but then again we practiced hiding under our desks with our hands over our heads at least once a week. Kinda sorta, I guess like "you should no likey Excelsior Springs because of our annual football game to see who wins the Dueling Pistols"..  it was ingrained to no likey the Ruskies.  They'd do evil things like beat us to the punch on the first man to leave the earth's atmosphere - and athletics back then were serious battles between our two countries.  In fact, I remember reading (much later, when I learned to read) once we beat Russia in some team event for the Gold in the Winter Olympics.. the Russian newspaper headline was "US finishes next to last, Russia Second Place!" Bad! Bad Boris and Natasha!

I remember HOW HUGE a thing Space was back then.  We'd draw spacecrafts/capsules with US flags on our notebooks: Pioneer... Gemini.. Mercury.. shortly after Russia's space success. we launched the Pioneer 4 Spacecraft - and it's claim to fame was closer to the moon (37,000 miles away) that any craft had ever been.  Here we are, 2020, that spacecraft is still in solar orbit!

We too put dudes on spacecrafts... our first astronauts, "The Mercury 7" included 3 Navy aviators, 3 from the Air Force and one from the Marines. Names like Alan Shephard (our first person in outer space) and John Glenn (the first to orbit the earth)... 

This is boring, spiff it up some Victor.  OK, since it's 2020, let's revisit a TV show from the day, The Twilight Zone.. Rod Serling led us on many a sci-fi, supernatural mystery, and how many fellow bike without training wheels friends remember any stars to come from this show?  Well, howabout Ron Howard, Dennis Hopper, Robert Redford and William Shatner!

Twas hard, initially, to bike and sing.. but meanwhile, The Grammys happened for the first time..  Rodgers and Hammerstein's last musical,  The Sound of Music opened on Broadway...   Did you have wanna those huge stereo consoles in your house?  The singer (he liked to think) in our household was dad.. many a night I remember him standing at the stove singing Mack the Knife.. Seems it was a happy era.. Kansas City (the song was huge) and who didn't like the beat of Ray's "What'd I Say?"

Whilst us boy youngsters toted Rin Tin Tin or Huckleberry Hound metal lunchboxes, girls Barbie or Candy Land boxes, and it was a thing for them (and women) to wear hats...

Our folks had been thru both the Depression and World War II.. I remember hearing "we were poor and didn't know it." Finally, economic times seemed very promising, hence adding to the happiness of the era..  Big ole companies like Western Electric, GE, RCA and Philco emerged..   73% of us went to church.. 

Perhaps an omen to our one day hippy/rebellious attitudes, Art Linkletter' "Kids Say The Darndest Things" book was a biggie..  Coffee shop folk music was the scene.. Bob Dylan.. Joan Baez.. ..Peter, Paul and Mary. .The Kingston Trio... Witness more future 'rebellion'!  Those of us that got around the dodge ball circle, danced and sang Chubby Checker's "The Twist"...I don't remember if we visited Mrs. Weakley (the principal) but I do remember us getting in trouble/shutdown the very first time it happened! Sadly, this era included "The day, the music died" in  the plane crash in Iowa that took the lives of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper.

Since we couldn't do that (Do The Twist), some of us would go to the monkey bars, we'd climb a rope, hop on the merry-go-round, or.. chase girls.. we really didn't know why we chased girls, and we never knew what we'd do if we did catch ''em, but, twas a thing many a little boy did.

Once we got practiced (and maybe a tad bit older) mom would let us trek that bike across town (safely) and the folks didn't have to worry about us ending up on a milk carton. We could usually stay out until the street lights came on.. playing games like Hop Scotch,  Hill Dill, Red Light Green Light, Kick the Can, Hide and Go seek.... We'd catch (or try to catch) crawdads..  Dad might take us to a pond to fish..The bottoms of our feet pretty much stayed filthy all day. We'd play fetch with our hounds.. back then, just like us once we got our training wheels off, dogs were free to go anywhere/everywhere.  Occasionally that was a problem.. I valued my hiney, and I remember many times barely making it to our screened in porch before the meanest dog on the block took a chunk outtta my rear end.

Our games were simple, sometimes even homemade (two cans with a string, our 'walkie talkies'.. old roller skats screwed onto the bottom of a cutout piece of plywood, and off to skateboard we'd go)..   Play Doh.. Silly Putty.. Slinky.. Pogo Sticks, Hula Hoops.. we liked the smell of those rolled caps we stuck in our cap guns.. the girls would buy and 'wear' those big ole wax candy red lip thingys..  Inside, we had Lincoln Logs, Tinker Toys, our 'tablet-iPhone  of the day was the Etch-a-Scetch.  The girls had paper dolls.. and on a lucky day, mom would make ice cream using the old crank thingy to do so.

Again, once riding a bike was cinchy, the girls would get streamers that would stick out of the end of the handlebars.. we boys would use a clothespin and a baseball card affixed to our bike so we'd make a motor noise.. and the rich kid on the block even had a bell on his bike.  

We were too young to have jobs, so about the only way we could make money was to save up until we had 6 empty pop bottles, somehow strap 'em on the bike (Or put them in our wagon and walk), and off to Safeway we'd go for the 2 cents apiece we'd get for returning them.  Come to think of it, our very next chapter might be "coming of age to gain parental confidence we wouldn't cut off our toes if we mowed the yard."  9-ish? 10-ish? The sad, but fun at that time, beginning to a lifetime of manual labor, be it at work, or, in working on our homes once we're old enough to have a home.

During the week, mom and dad usually picked the shows - but quite frankly, we enjoyed watching them with them and our sibs.. We actually mostly got along!  Saturday mornings, however, WE KIDDOS controlled the TV's!  Lassie, Dennis the Menace, The Mickey Mouse Club, Huckleberry Hound, Tom and Jerry.. Bugs Bunny.. and Heh-Heh-Heh-HEHHH-Heh, The Woody Woodpecker. My own personal fav was Captain Kangaroo.. who could forget Mr. Green Jeans, Mr. Bunny Rabbit, Mr. Moose and the Dancing Bear!

Treats were trips to grannies.. maybe even occasionally spending the night in a motel WITH a pool!..(Thanks to an Atlas the size of Rhode Island to help us find our way.).. Travel got easier in this era as the Interstate came to fore.. As the crow flies versus over the river and thru the woods, up the hills, round the curbs, passing 'when ya can', whenya find a passing lane...  Drive Inn Movies were a treat.. ..  Long about this era was the dawning of fake Christmas trees.  Patooey.  Thankfully, grandpa always drove to the country to pick out a fine, fine cedar tree. We'd adorn it with stringed popcorn, some electric lights, and we even had somea those bubble light filled with liquid that would glow. There was a spirit about town at Christmas.  Our already in a good mood was even gooder.  Folks decorated outside, families did, together.  It was special to take a drive to the Big City to see the humongous Christmas decorations downtown.. 

Some homes could afford window unit AC's (AC for the entire house didn't happen until around 1970.. most of us had fans in the window.. we all had that one uncle that would stick his thumbnail on the metal fan to make a horrendous noise that caused rolled eyes by our mom and our aunts.. 

It was a wonderful age, era.  Wide eyed, in total awe of life, our folks and new things in our lives.  Good friends.  Loving relatives. No hustle bustle, hurry up.  We've been verbally communicating for a few years now.  We are starting to reason. Simple, but wonderful.

Love, Victurd

In the beginning...

 I like to write. Sorry, not sorry.  Turn left, you no likey to read.

The thought when I sat down was to write a book.  That's a joke son, as most of my writing junk is thanks to plagiarism, and the joke might be on you because sometimes (not often, but sometimes) you laugh.  Laughter is a goal.  Remember?  Today: Pandemic. Russia.  North Korea.  Those Middle East places of conflict. Fake News. Raging Facebook arguments. Mask, no mask, Fauci Rocks, Fauci Sucks, you get the idea. We're in Liberty, we needs levity.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, Chapter One, 1952 (or thereabouts 'back in the day' if you're close in age.)

I sat down, Googled a buncha stuff about back then. I have an entire 8 and 1/2 by 11 sheet of notebook paper with my horrible writing allover it.  I'll try to cipher best I can.

Birth.  There were many of us back then.  The War was over, the economic prospectus was good, folks doinked, kids were born. Baby Boomers they call us.

Most of us during that time suffered immensely from repeated but unintentional diaper pin sticks.  Cloth diapers, yuck.  If ya had a load (sorry) the diaper would sink to your ankles.  Worse, they were probably hand me downs from your brother, or yet even worse, your sister.  Not only did they pin prick us, they had the gall, once we were dressed and ready to go, to stick us on the bench seat of the station wagon sans seatbelt ('cause they weren't invented yet.)  I'm still here, you're still here, WHEW!

It didn't take long once all the maternity wards started filling up for folks to think "Holy crap, what was I thinking?" - Thus, this was the year "The Pill" was invented.

We were lucky. Two outta three of our moms stayed at home with us, and after peeking at the annual wages of men ($2,570) and women ($953) we can kinda see why.

There was no greener grass, ie, folks just didn't get divorced.  Social pressure, scorn. Ya marry, ya stay married. Not like today when a hangnail could cause it, or, "wow, he/she sure is attractive", or "I'll be damned if I'm driving a Chevy, I'm leaving you in my Ford, seeya."  Or something like that nowadays, many reasons. Back then, only 9.3% of the homes had a single parent.

We ate meals together, as in three of 'em a day. One had to put on a Halloween costume to rob the cookie jar before dinner because all we ever heard was "NO, you'll ruin your appetite!"

Today, many have a 55" TV in the den, bedrooms with 40"ers and I even have on buddy, in the john of his man cave, he has an actual urinal, WITH a TV just above it so you don't miss a down, inning, Super Bowl TV Commercial.

Nada, back then, one TV - and it was black and white.  We watched game shows as a family. Ed always had a really big show, and Dinah saw the USA. Can you imagine having six kids, one TV and usually it was mom or dad's choice? We'd never hear the end of it today. (Not to mention one phone in the house, and it was stationary.)

Our folks shook their heads at the gyrations of a 21 yr old Elvis, Chuck played Maybelline, and Johnny walked the line.

Once again, divorce simply didn't happen, but it was disconcerting when  we heard little Jimmy Boyd sing I Saw Momma Kissing Santa Claus and it was viral (3 million) before we heard of viral.

We didn't get color TV's until we were old enough to talk, ie, commercially released in 1954, but realistically not in our homes until the 60's.  I remember, pre-color TV, my paw bought a vinyl-plastic sheet thing that he placed over the TV to make it look like it was living color.  Wasn't.  Oh, back then, we too were the remote, as well as the mirror holder in fronta the TV when dad changed a tube.

Should we have awoken at 3am and snuck down to the living room, there was no Jerry Springer, Friends, The Good Feet Store, Dr. Phil, Larry King selling something, there was a TEST PATTERN.  ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

It was a time of many firsts. Holiday Inn.  The Today show. Passenger jets, Barbie, and we can never forget Mr. Potato head. Many screeches were heard from folks stepping on Mr. Potato head parts way the hell before Legos were envisioned. Every kid on earth had a bike and roller skates.

Diamonds were a girl's best friend..  moms wore dresses to town, the market, anywhere, and slacks at home.  Usually, jewelry stayed on the entire day. Girls wore saddle oxfords, HA HA!

We musta stunk because ban roll ons were invented (probably those droopy diapers again.) Mom would reheat leftovers in a microwave, that is, if she was rich because they cost $1200 back then.

Speaking of those droopy diapers, I can think of one reason why.  Only 63% of the homes had plumbing - and can you imagine the tykester, during a 12" snowstorm at 9pm spouting "mom, I gotta go poop." Scroll to ban roll on.

Ike won.  Russia scared us.  Next to the outhouses, many of us had bomb shelters in the backyard.

It was a Go West time,(no, not Horace Greeley) but a Go West, or East, or North, or South, to the suburbs were we can have more land. 

OK, I've run out of fun things to write about back then.  OK, I know, the above really wasn't funny, BUT.. I've got almost a quarter of a page of my notebook paper left and I haven't even begun to write about that stuff, and it WAS funny.  Or so I think.  I can't read my writing.

Be sure to tune in next time, same bat chann... no, that ain't it. Same I Love Lucy, Arthur Godfrey, $64,000 question, Gunsmoke channel... where Chapter 2 will be entitled:

Taking the training wheels off....

Love, Victurd