Friday, June 20, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Summer TV
It's a good thing summer only lasts 3-4 months, at least as far as television is concerned. It seems like the "new" programs are copy-cat, warmed over, poorly conceived and boring. I think I liked it better when all the regular season shows ran repeats during the summer. In that way, people could watch programs which they didn't or couldn't watch in the fall. Why did they change this? Maybe the advent of VCR's was the catalyst for change, with the presumption that people who couldn't watch everything they wanted to watch in the regular season, could record those shows they missed.
This week's fishing wasn't so great. Even though it was very cool all week and the lake was restocked with trout two weeks ago, I didn't catch any of them. Only a few bass and blue gills. It was nice, however, to just be outside at such a beautiful spot. Today I fished for only about two hours, then quit and walked my mile around the lake. My doctor told me I have to walk, but in order to do so, I have to drive out of town. Where I live has only long, steep hills and I am not ready for those yet. So I combine my walking with my fishing and try to justify my using extra gasoline! Most of the time my fishing by myself doesn't bother me, but lately it has. It is more fun when you have a fishing buddy.
This week's fishing wasn't so great. Even though it was very cool all week and the lake was restocked with trout two weeks ago, I didn't catch any of them. Only a few bass and blue gills. It was nice, however, to just be outside at such a beautiful spot. Today I fished for only about two hours, then quit and walked my mile around the lake. My doctor told me I have to walk, but in order to do so, I have to drive out of town. Where I live has only long, steep hills and I am not ready for those yet. So I combine my walking with my fishing and try to justify my using extra gasoline! Most of the time my fishing by myself doesn't bother me, but lately it has. It is more fun when you have a fishing buddy.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Chicken Rustling
About a decade ago, I lived in a Western Pennsylvania community known for its Amish population. I found the Amish fascinating, as I had never lived near an Amish community nor had I ever known any Amish people.
Though most of the Amish didn't strike up friendships with the "English" (non-Amish), I did become acquainted with one family. Initially, they visited in my home, and then the parents, A. and R., began asking me to drive them to various locations which would take too long in a buggy. The mother, A., was a bit of a rebel among the Amish. She allowed her children to watch tv at my house (and they were thrilled to do so, and she was carrying on some sort of suspicious relationship with an "English" man and was consequently shunned for a time for doing so).
When we were in a grocery store in a neighboring town, I noticed A. trying to add up the cost of her grocery choices and it was taking her awhile. I just happened to have a small calculator in my purse, so I offered it to her. She was thrilled, so I told her to keep it. When she finished, she surreptitiously hid it somewhere in the sleeves of her purple dress.
One of the funniest moments in my life involved this couple. One wet, cold November evening, R. called me from a phone booth near his home and asked if I could take them out to Doc's to get some chickens. Doc was the local vet. I said I would, and about a half-hour later, I picked up R. and A. at their home. At the time, I was driving a small Nissan 2-door hatch back, and the two wooden chicken carriers fit perfectly in my little trunk. R. had to get into the back seat because he was so thin, and his knees came up to his chin as he sat wedged into the back seat. A., on the other hand, was quite round and had to sit in the front passenger seat. When she climbed in, the car noticeably tilted to the right. As we drove the couple of miles to Doc's farm, they said Doc had told them they could have his chickens.
We pulled into the driveway and up to the barn. I noted it didn't look like anyone was home, and A. said it didn't matter whether Doc was home or not. So we got out of the car, got the chicken carriers out of the trunk and carried them into the barn. R. scrambled up a ladder into the hay loft, where there wasn't much hay. There were chickens everywhere, however, roosting in the rafters of the barn. The sheep in the back of the barn were nervously bleating and the chickens began to cackle, especially when R. grabbed one of them. I had climbed halfway up the ladder, so R. handed me each chicken which I, in turn, handed to A. She then put each chicken into one of the carriers. I asked them, "Are you sure Doc knew you were getting the chickens?"
"Yah, yah, he said ve could get all ve vanted." I started to laugh because it was so funny watching R. trying to catch those chickens. Wings were flapping, chickens were flying, and sheep were bleating. Then A. slipped on the muddy dirt floor of the barn and fell on her behind in the mud. Her purple and black dress was covered in mud, and she didn't share my amusement at all. Finally, both carriers were full of chickens, so we carried them out and put them into my trunk. I commented that I wished Doc had been there so that he would know we took his chickens. They said it didn't matter.
As we drove back into town, I was increasingly uncomfortable with the situation and asked, "Did Doc know you were getting the chickens tonight?"
"Oh, no, he didn't know ven ve vere getting the chickens. He just said to get them."
I asked when he told them this. The answer: "Oh, about a year ago."
Oh, no, I thought. He could have changed his mind in a year. Then I started to laugh, and told R. and A. that the headlines in the paper tomorrow might read, "English woman and Amish couple arrested for rustling chickens." They just looked at me like I was crazy. Somehow, the humor I saw in the situation escaped R. and A.
Though most of the Amish didn't strike up friendships with the "English" (non-Amish), I did become acquainted with one family. Initially, they visited in my home, and then the parents, A. and R., began asking me to drive them to various locations which would take too long in a buggy. The mother, A., was a bit of a rebel among the Amish. She allowed her children to watch tv at my house (and they were thrilled to do so, and she was carrying on some sort of suspicious relationship with an "English" man and was consequently shunned for a time for doing so).
When we were in a grocery store in a neighboring town, I noticed A. trying to add up the cost of her grocery choices and it was taking her awhile. I just happened to have a small calculator in my purse, so I offered it to her. She was thrilled, so I told her to keep it. When she finished, she surreptitiously hid it somewhere in the sleeves of her purple dress.
One of the funniest moments in my life involved this couple. One wet, cold November evening, R. called me from a phone booth near his home and asked if I could take them out to Doc's to get some chickens. Doc was the local vet. I said I would, and about a half-hour later, I picked up R. and A. at their home. At the time, I was driving a small Nissan 2-door hatch back, and the two wooden chicken carriers fit perfectly in my little trunk. R. had to get into the back seat because he was so thin, and his knees came up to his chin as he sat wedged into the back seat. A., on the other hand, was quite round and had to sit in the front passenger seat. When she climbed in, the car noticeably tilted to the right. As we drove the couple of miles to Doc's farm, they said Doc had told them they could have his chickens.
We pulled into the driveway and up to the barn. I noted it didn't look like anyone was home, and A. said it didn't matter whether Doc was home or not. So we got out of the car, got the chicken carriers out of the trunk and carried them into the barn. R. scrambled up a ladder into the hay loft, where there wasn't much hay. There were chickens everywhere, however, roosting in the rafters of the barn. The sheep in the back of the barn were nervously bleating and the chickens began to cackle, especially when R. grabbed one of them. I had climbed halfway up the ladder, so R. handed me each chicken which I, in turn, handed to A. She then put each chicken into one of the carriers. I asked them, "Are you sure Doc knew you were getting the chickens?"
"Yah, yah, he said ve could get all ve vanted." I started to laugh because it was so funny watching R. trying to catch those chickens. Wings were flapping, chickens were flying, and sheep were bleating. Then A. slipped on the muddy dirt floor of the barn and fell on her behind in the mud. Her purple and black dress was covered in mud, and she didn't share my amusement at all. Finally, both carriers were full of chickens, so we carried them out and put them into my trunk. I commented that I wished Doc had been there so that he would know we took his chickens. They said it didn't matter.
As we drove back into town, I was increasingly uncomfortable with the situation and asked, "Did Doc know you were getting the chickens tonight?"
"Oh, no, he didn't know ven ve vere getting the chickens. He just said to get them."
I asked when he told them this. The answer: "Oh, about a year ago."
Oh, no, I thought. He could have changed his mind in a year. Then I started to laugh, and told R. and A. that the headlines in the paper tomorrow might read, "English woman and Amish couple arrested for rustling chickens." They just looked at me like I was crazy. Somehow, the humor I saw in the situation escaped R. and A.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Don't Ever Laugh at an Orangutan!
Our school district took elementary, junior and high school students by bus to the Pittsburgh Zoo and the Planetarium every spring. Because of this, my family didn't take us, except for one time when my grandparents wanted to go to the Zoo. My parents, my brother Bill, my grandparents and I piled into my grandfather's dark gray DeSota coupe and we arrived at the Pittsburgh Zoo about 45 minutes later. In the 'fifties, trips took longer because the roads were all two-laned and narrow, and the cars didn't go so fast.
Since my brother and I were very familiar with the zoo, we lead the grown-ups around, pointing out the many exotic animals in cages or fenced-in areas. My grandmother, who we called "Mimmi", had a bad habit of sometimes making fun of others. On that day at the zoo, she directed her laughter toward the hippopotamuses, the elephants, and most of the apes. The animals were oblivious to her behavior until we reached the cage of the Orangutans. As we all stood gazing at these most intriguing, colorful creatures, my grandmother stepped up close to the cage bars and started to laugh as she pointed and made faces at the Orangutans. All of a sudden, the largest one pursed his lips and spit. His aim was excellent and Mimmi was hit in the face with the spittle. The rest of us didn't know how to respond -- with horror or with laughter -- because we were as shocked as Mimmi was. I can remember feeling embarrassed for my grandmother, and at the same time wanting to laugh. And there was a mean-spirited part of me that felt like she got what she deserved. Needless to say, Mimmi was much more subdued the remainder of the day. We all knew not to EVER mention the episode in her presence, but over the years, we had many chuckles at her expense.
Since my brother and I were very familiar with the zoo, we lead the grown-ups around, pointing out the many exotic animals in cages or fenced-in areas. My grandmother, who we called "Mimmi", had a bad habit of sometimes making fun of others. On that day at the zoo, she directed her laughter toward the hippopotamuses, the elephants, and most of the apes. The animals were oblivious to her behavior until we reached the cage of the Orangutans. As we all stood gazing at these most intriguing, colorful creatures, my grandmother stepped up close to the cage bars and started to laugh as she pointed and made faces at the Orangutans. All of a sudden, the largest one pursed his lips and spit. His aim was excellent and Mimmi was hit in the face with the spittle. The rest of us didn't know how to respond -- with horror or with laughter -- because we were as shocked as Mimmi was. I can remember feeling embarrassed for my grandmother, and at the same time wanting to laugh. And there was a mean-spirited part of me that felt like she got what she deserved. Needless to say, Mimmi was much more subdued the remainder of the day. We all knew not to EVER mention the episode in her presence, but over the years, we had many chuckles at her expense.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
US Economy
What is happening economically in this country is disgraceful. The high oil/gasoline prices are blamed on high global demand. It is interesting that this high demand, which is different from a decade or so ago, is coming from countries which have been given American industries by American industries. We were sold out and now we are beginning to pay for it across America. Not only have we lost jobs to countries like China, but in the process of taking our industries and manufacturers, we are now in financial crisis. Where do the soaring gasoline, power, and food prices end? Are we going to experience not just a recession, but another Great Depression? When people have maxed out the credit cards paying for necessities, lose their homes to pay for gasoline and food, begin to live on the streets because they can't pay the rent, can no longer afford any medications, lose jobs because of the cost of transportation, what is going to happen? None of the industries we have left in America will have any buyers for their products, excepting the countries to whom we were initially sold out.
I realize I am not an economist nor an elected government official. However, why can't our government limit the obscene profits the oil companies are making? The oil companies say they need the huge profits for research and prospecting. However, if our country, as well as other industrialized countries, move to alternate forms of power, then all that profit for research and prospecting will be unnecessary. Should the oil companies be required to give the excess profit back to the consumers? Not likely.
I realize I am not an economist nor an elected government official. However, why can't our government limit the obscene profits the oil companies are making? The oil companies say they need the huge profits for research and prospecting. However, if our country, as well as other industrialized countries, move to alternate forms of power, then all that profit for research and prospecting will be unnecessary. Should the oil companies be required to give the excess profit back to the consumers? Not likely.
Friday, June 6, 2008
A Bear Story
One lazy summer day when I was about 13 and my brother, Bill, was 12, we heard a lot of barking dogs over the next hill. We realized our two dogs were missing, and Bill and I decided to go check it out. We walked quite a distance down one hill and up another, and then further up the hill where the trees had been cut down to make more farmland for our neighbor. There was a large pile of brush and by the time Bill and I reached it, we could see all the neighborhood dogs surrounding something much larger. It took us a minute or so to realize what we were seeing. It was a young bear, probably a yearling, and though the dogs were biting at it's legs, it kept trying to move along. Bill and I were behind that pile of brush, but not for long. Bears were unknown in our area in the fifties, and our father had told us what not to do should we ever run into a bear. Well, I didn't give his instructions a second thought. I ran, FAST, the whole way home. Poor Bill was running somewhere behind me, calling, "Wait for me! Wait for me!" Brother or not, I wasn't waiting for anyone because I was terrified. I don't think my feet hit the ground very much, because I think I was bounding, rather than running. I could have made the Olympic sprinters team that day. We breathlessly told our parents about the bear, and my father later asked around and found there were two bears, probably a mother and her yearling cub, around the farms that week. One neighbor's beehives were toppled over and destroyed as the bears ate the honey. Daddy said he would have to keep an eye on our beehives, but the bears must have moved on because we neither saw them nor heard anything more about bears in the area. Bill and I started asking questions again about what to do if a bear came along. Daddy said not to climb a tree because bears can climb trees. He said not to run away because bears can easily outrun people. He really never told us what to do, and until recent years, I have often pondered what you are supposed to do if you encounter a bear. Now they say to play dead. Personally, I think that would take nerves of steel. I can't run like I did when I was young, and I couldn't shimmy up a tree even when I was young, so I think I will buy some pepper spray and carry it with me all the time, hoping that should I run into a bear, my aim would be good enough and that the spray would effectively deter it.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Hillary Loses
I am sad tonight because my presidential candidate of choice has been declared the loser by the media. As appalling as it is, misogynism is alive and well in this country. The veiled comments by the male politicians and media stars may not have been consciously noted by most people, but for those of us who were a part of the women's rights, bra-burning generation, they were all too apparent. I find it very interesting that first of all, a black male would choose THIS time to run for president when his primary opponent was the first woman to run for president; and second, that so many men in power would back the male rather than the female. I would guess that Obama knew that his chances of winning the Democratic nomination would be easier if he was running against a woman than against a man.
Tonight, the pundits are saying that Obama doesn't want Hillary for Vice-President, but will stall awhile til the issue kind of dies down. Of course he doesn't want Hillary -- she is too strong a presence for the secondary role in the government.
Personally, I think all those who voted for Hillary -- more than those who voted for Obama -- should write-in her name on the ballot rather than vote for Obama or McCain. What would happen in that case? Would the winning number of votes win, or would the Supreme Court once again override the choice of the people? I am beginning to think the whole election scene is a joke.
Depending upon McCain's choice for VP, he may be the first Republican nominee for President who gets my vote. I don't agree with many of his stances on issues, but I believe Obama is WAY too liberal. He wants to totally disarm America. Why?????
Tonight, the pundits are saying that Obama doesn't want Hillary for Vice-President, but will stall awhile til the issue kind of dies down. Of course he doesn't want Hillary -- she is too strong a presence for the secondary role in the government.
Personally, I think all those who voted for Hillary -- more than those who voted for Obama -- should write-in her name on the ballot rather than vote for Obama or McCain. What would happen in that case? Would the winning number of votes win, or would the Supreme Court once again override the choice of the people? I am beginning to think the whole election scene is a joke.
Depending upon McCain's choice for VP, he may be the first Republican nominee for President who gets my vote. I don't agree with many of his stances on issues, but I believe Obama is WAY too liberal. He wants to totally disarm America. Why?????
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