Greetings to all, and welcome new friends to the East Wing.
For those of you who might remember my encounter with the Hornet Nation last summer, you’ll be glad to know the final outcome of that battle has taken place. The good guys won!
It was truly interesting to watch the demise of that Hornet Nest last fall and winter. After the weather got so cold it drove the hornets underground, the wind, rain, freezing & thawing, along with the snow started to take its toll on the Hornet Nest. I could see changes in its appearance day by day. It started to die.
But what really got the job done, was in late January a rather large black bird started to peck on the nest. Don’t know it that bird ate the nest or just enjoyed destroying a Hornet Nest, either way, within a few days after the black bird started pecking on the nest it was gone. I think the bird did eat at least part of the nest. The good guys won the war. May not have won all the battles, but won the war.
Had a really neat Pizza Party last Wednesday evening, me and a bunch of friends of mine. Just sat around the round table at Grand Central Station and enjoyed each other’s company. Told Stories. Nothing quite as nice as the company of good friends. It turns out that the important things in my life are not things at all , but people, people who are friends of mine.
Does anybody remember the Columbia House Record Club? Looking through some old, old papers I ran across one of the advertisements for Columbia House Record Club. Buy 5 records of your choice for One Penny! Such a deal. Cancel at any time! Send no money Now! If You want the current selection, you do nothing! We Ship direct to you! Return in 30 days no questions asked!
Well, I bought damn near every one that came in our mail box for a penny. When Rock & Roll was young, Carl Perkins, Buddy Holly, Fats Domino, Deion and the Belmonts, Fabian, Elvis, I bought ‘em all for one penny. And then the monthly selections came, I didn’t want ‘em but they just kept on coming and the bills started coming too. $24.95 for every one past that 5 for a penny deal. I got the mail every day from the mail box as I got off the School Bus, and all the Columbia House Record Club stuff had my name on it, so I just put ‘em in a box under my bed, and didn’t tell anybody. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t want ‘em, but didn’t know how to stop the music or the bills.
I called them Columbia House Record Club People up on the phone said “this is Mr. BobbyRay Howard from Toto Indiana and I don’t want any more of your records”. They said “Shut up kid and pay that bill or else you’ll go to jail for fraud” They hung up on me, me, me, Mr. BobbyRay Howard from Toto Indiana. Talk ‘bout being scared, well I was one little scared hillbilly boy for sure. I didn’t even know what fraud was, and now I was going to have to go to jail for it. It didn’t seem right, it just didn’t seem right.
I decided to tell my dad, ‘cause anything that didn’t seem right, I always told my dad, ‘cause he was a preacher, and he knew ‘bout right and wrong and stuff like that, ‘cause that was part of his job being a preacher.
Got the box from under the bed and took it my dad. He laughed when I told him ‘bout all the Columbia House Records I had gotten in the mail. He really laughed when I told him ‘bout me calling ‘em up and telling ‘em I’m Mr. BobbyRay Howard from Toto Indiana and stop sending me bills and music. He didn’t laugh when I told him ‘bout them telling me I’d have to go to jail for fraud if I didn’t pay ‘em.
Right then and there my dad got on the phone and talked to that Columbia House Record Company. He told them I was 11 years old and didn’t have his permission or anybody else’s permission to order anything from their company, If they ever sent another thing to his mail box they’d be sorry. That was the first day the music died. Being a preacher is kinda neat, knowing right from wrong, and all.
Don’t know if that company’s still in business or not, but one thing I do know is they never send any more stuff, music or bills, to my dad’s mail box at Toto. Guess the wrong Mr. Howard called ‘em the first time.
Did ya see the meteors early Thursday Morning, I’m talking real early Thursday Morning, like 2:00 AM. I didn’t plan on it, but woke up and decided to go out and look and see the light show. It was worth the effort. Maybe 25 – 30 per hour, based on my watch time. At that rate ya don’t get boarded, standing out in the dark, in the cold wondering what the &*&^%$ you’re doing out in the dark wondering ‘bout stuff anyway. It was fun. Watching meteor showers are more fun with someone. That night it was just me and Pup Baby James, but the Pup Baby is good company any time, even watching meteors. I’m not sure the Pup Baby saw as many as I did, I don’t think she looked up as much as I did.
It’s amazing to think that a chunk of stuff the size of a tennis ball would make a streak across the sky maybe a thousand miles long. There’s a lot of things in this world we don’t fully understand. That chunk of stuff the size of that tennis ball is just but one.
“Chunk” is just such a neat word. Stop and think ‘bout it. Chunk paints a different picture for everybody. Lump, hunk, mass, large piece, portion, are all synonyms for chunk. But nothing says chunk like chunk. I don’t know if ya can still buy a “Chunk of Chocolate” or not, used to could.
Robobees, yes, robobees are being developed as a possible replacement for the devastating loss of honey bees worldwide. “While a vast amount of research is being poured into finding the cause for the bee die off, a like amount of effort is being put into developing another way to pollinate those things in nature that rely on the little fellers. Much of the things we eat depend on the honeybees. Most of the things ya grow in your gardens, on your trees, in your fields, I’m telling ya, those little honeybees are important people.
Now we may well be able to create little flying robobees and pollinate the plants, but I bet those robobees are not gona make honey, ‘cause that’s just wrong, having robobees making honey. Bet it would taste like it came from a can. I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m not gona eat any robohoney.
One thing ya gotta keep in mind, If ya see that robohoney at Wal-Mart, bet your bottom dollar it came from China. And we all know how those Chinese people made baby formula for their own babies, so just imagine how they’d do on making robohoney for Wal-Mart. Stay away from the Wal-Mart Robohoney, especially if it’s in a can, ‘cause ya just can’t see what’s inside. Course ya can’t see what’s inside Mayonnaise either, but I don’t think Mayonnaise comes from China, I think Mayonnaise comes from Alabama.
Ever hear ‘bout a frog that changes color? No, not at Southfork, in the heart of Borneo. Knowing full well that Borneo is not a lead story on the evening news too often, it does hold many of the worlds mysteries.
Stick insects and slugs are just an example of some such mysteries in downtown Borneo. There have been 123 new species of plants, animals and insects discovered on the Island of Borneo in just the last three years. Now the WWF, no, not the wrestling people, the World Wildlife Fund, the real WWF, published such a list last week to mark Earth Day.
Seems like McHale’s Navy was there during the war. If not Borneo, I’m sure they were close by. I loved McHale’s Navy. I was a big Tim Conway fan. Funny man, Tim Conway, when teamed with Carol Barnett, it didn’t get more funny than that. Not one dirty word did Tim Conway ever speak on TV, nor Did Carol Barnett. That speaks volumes for true talent. Maybe there’s no longer enough to go around.
Rainy Springtime Sunday Morning in the East Wing. So much so the 2girldogs didn’t even go outside, Pup Baby just stuck her nose outside and went back and laid down on her couch. Now the Gray Lady James was even smarter, she didn’t even get off her couch, just wagged her tail, smiled and went back to sleep. AT 5:30 on a Sunday morning when it’s raining, maybe that is the best idea, wag your tail, smile, and go back to sleep. I did.
Last week Sophia The Republican Cat shared an interesting email with me. Ya gotta keep in mind that Sophia is so far right in her political views that she won’t even walk on my left side, but any way, she shared a very thought provoking email. The part she let me read was as follows:
Politicians are the only people in the world who create problems and then campaign against them.
Have you ever wondered, if both the Democrats and the Republicans are against deficits, why
do we have deficits? Have you ever wondered, if all the politicians are against inflation and high taxes, Why do we have inflation and high taxes?
One hundred senators, 435 congressmen, one president, and nine Supreme Court justices equates
to 545 human beings out of the 300 million are directly, legally, morally, and individually responsible for the domestic problems that plague this country.
Those 545 human beings spend much of their energy convincing you and me that what they did is not their fault. They cooperate in this common con regardless of party. What separates a politician from a normal human being is an excessive amount of gall...
No normal human being would have the gall of a Speaker, who stood up and criticized the President for creating deficits... The President can only propose a budget. He cannot force the Congress to accept it…
Now with much of Sophia’s ranting and ravings I just blow it off as so much smoke. However, if ya read what she shared, there’s not a single word which ya can challenge. Now I may or may not agree with Sophia’s politics, but I’ll give her credit, when she lays it out for the world to see, she’s done her homework. Facts are facts, and when ya can’t dispute the facts, attack the messenger, or if you’re the President, blame George Bush.
Much of what comes in Sophia’s email is composed on the back side of the Moon if ya ask me. I think it has all kinds built in secret codes, that only she can decipher. I suspect such simply because I know for a fact, Sophia has an original Ovaltine Secret Decoder Ring in the Cat House and she spends a lot of time with that ring on her right paw when she’s in the Cat House. And when the Ovaltine Secret Decoder Ring is not on Sophia’s right paw, it’s safely displayed right next to the autographed photo of Herbert Hoover. (Damn Republican Cat)
By the last Sunday of every April, the shades of nighttime draw slowly from the East. Even on days like today, with these low floating dark clouds that ya could just reach up and squeeze the water out, the nighttime comes slow. Unlike the last Sunday of every December, when ya blink and go from light to darkness, in an instance, or so it seems.
As my beautiful Maple Tree just outside the East Wing Window to the south fades into the darkness, while the 2girldogs are in their usual spots on the couches and Sophia is perched on the back of my chair, watching every key stroke, nighttime comes on little cat feet, in silence.
Thank you so much for sharing your time with us this evening in the East Wing. We always look forward to you company. Your presence in the East Wing adds to the warmth of the family.
Stay safe in Iraq and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, With A Pizza Party, A Preacher & The Record Club, Robobees & Wal-Mart, McHale’s Navy, Sophia’s Email.
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
From the East Wing, Smelling Lilacs, Recycling Pup Baby, ToothPaste Tax, A Good Teacher and Blaming Bush
Greetings to all, and welcome new friends to the East Wing.
April 15th came and went and so did another tax year. I’ve said it before but in many ways I’ve one of the best jobs in the world. Put in all my overtime the worst part of the year. January to mid April, now if ya gotta pick a time to work most day and night, pick the winter time, can’t do anything outside anyways.
Come mid April, the world turns green, and everyone’s wanting to go outside and play. I do. I walk in the sunshine with the 2girldogs. Sophia comes along. Now Sophia, she doesn’t walk with us, she walks beside us, ’bout 20ft or so to the right, always to the right. Sophia is never to the left of anything. Some habits are hard to break even when you’re just out walking in the sunshine, singing little sunshine songs. To the right, but never with us. We stop, she stops. We turn, she turns. Always maintaining that 20ft space. Guess ya just gotta give some cats room, on the right.
Now for everyone who wanted to know where to go to get the Giant Bullfrog Legs, it’s kinda like those mushroom hunters that’ll never tell ya the place they found ‘em, just give ya a vague hint. Well my vague hint is “at Southfork”. If ya look real hard, you’ll find ‘em. If ya go early in the spring, ya can hear the Bells of Springtime at Southfork too.
The Maple Trees looking south from the East Wing are leaving out so fast it seems I can almost see ‘em grow. Pretty site, watching leaves grow. Those little micro-factories getting ready to process chlorophyll.
I’m surprised some politician has not yet figured out some way to tax those tree leaf factories for polluting the air. We’ve forever been told how factories pollute the air, and after all, a by-product of these nasty little factories is oxygen, and we all know how much that pollutes the air. And besides, oxygen is what makes fires burn, so they could accuse the trees of being fire hazards I’m sure the trees will be covered in the democratic “cap and trade” bill currently being considered in the Senate.
Now that the new health care law is in affect with its tax on the use of tanning beds, it only seems right that we tax trees for polluting the air with that dangerous oxygen. And another thing ‘bout those trees while I’m thinking ‘bout ‘em, they are all sucking up carbon dioxide. I think they should have to pay their fair share. The more carbon dioxide those trees use the more they should pay.
But some of those little trees, well they need help, so maybe the government should give them a helping hand, such as extra carbon dioxide and in order to assure their growth, maybe force all big trees within ¼ mile to fall over, so the little ones can get more sunshine. Big trees have lived long enough anyhow. Its ‘bout time somebody stepped and started making decisions on who should life and who should die. Those big trees thing they got it made, well, we’ll show ‘em. That’s what the big trees get for voting with the cat.
Did ya hear ‘bout the new toothpaste tax scheduled to kick in July 1st? Ya, all tubes of toothpaste sold after July 1st this year will have a computer chip in the tube, when ya purchase the toothpaste the tube will be scanned with your SS Number into the chip.
Then each time ya squeeze the tube, the chip records and stores the data. Satellites are positioned to scan every residence in the country every 24 hours to collect the toothpaste squeezing data. This data in turn will be fed into the government high speed computers and monthly toothpaste tax bills will be delivered to your mailbox. For those people receiving any type monthly Federal Check, (24.22% of society) the toothpaste tax will be automatically deducted from your check. For the rest of us, well we have the option of pay by mail, credit card or direct debit. For those who may choose to pay one year at a time, in advance of course, a pound of flesh.
The East Wing’s in full and Beautiful Springtime Bloom. Lilacs, Crab Apples, Apple Trees, Peach Trees, Pear Trees. Red Bud Trees. It hard to tell which is the prettiest. I love ‘em all. Just walking in the yards of the East Wing makes ya glad to be living in the country.
Almost forgot part of the pretty in the yard. They came home, those pretty little springtime friends of mine, those pretty little dandelions. And from the looks of the yards, they must have invited new friends over to visit.
Stargazed for a while last night in the cold, real cold. It felt much colder than it really was, just the result of getting used to warm weather quick. I don’t look at the moon too much anymore, but last night was the ideal time to moon look. Only ‘bout 8% of the moon was showing, so that makes ideal viewing. It was fun, didn’t see anybody up there though. Tried to find the space station and sync in on it, but the space station orbit at that time was outside my range of view. Oh well maybe next time we stargaze.
One of the side benefits of having you come visit the East Wing is all the email I get each week. I try to answer all my email, but sometimes do get behind. Sophia, The Republican Cat, tends to push her email answering off on me, so I get even more behind, but I do appreciate each and every comment received.
Had a lady tell me last week that she’s lived over 30 years in New York City and still misses the Northern Indiana Springtime. Most everybody thinks wherever they live is God’s Country. Well, looking south from the East Wing, I know of at least two votes for Northern Indiana. She’s not seen Lilacs in bloom for many years and still remembers the aroma of Lilacs in the Springtime.
It’s difficult to imagine a world without Springtime Blossoms, a world without green grass every where ya look, a world where dogs and cats don’t run free, where neighbors houses touch, where the front yard is concrete. Where the front yard is also sidewalk. City life.
All the springtime birds of the East Wing have finally calmed down, those who were looking for girl friends, and Lord knows there were a lot, have either found ‘em or gave up and went somewhere else to look. In either event, those remaining are now quite busy building nests and getting ready. Watching birds build nests is just one of the coolest things to see. Oh, if only we had that level of determination in our lives, well, we’d all be millionaires.
One of the neat things I do each year ‘round this time is to comb the Pup Baby every day and collect any loose winter hair that may be thinking ‘bout coming out anyway. Save this hair for a couple days and take it outside early in the morning, and place it in a good spot where I can see the birds reaction to such nest building materials. I saved Pup Baby’s hair for a week and put it out in the yard this morning.
By the time I got home from both church and taking my Mama out to lunch, most was already gone. The rest disappeared well before the sun went down. It’s kinda neat to think that some little unknown bird will be hatched in the softest of nests, and will grow up thinking that all nests are that way.
But what’s most cool ‘bout the whole deal is, I’m recycling Pup Baby! I think the Recycling Czar is gona be proposing a tax credit for pet recycling.
Did ya ever notice how the political types at the national level throw that term “tax credit” at ya every chance they get. Is that a way to ensure we vote for ‘em? A tax credit for buying a house, a car, windows, new furnace, new doors, becoming educated, insulation, being poor, refrigerators, being old, having babies, getting a job, losing a job, and this is just a very, very small sample of the tax credits available as the list seems to go forever. Who do ya think pays for these “tax credits”? We, as a people, are more and more looking for our government to hand us stuff, to make our decisions, to take care of us. Are we too unable to do so? I wonder.
I had an interesting conversation with a public school teacher the other day, a teacher who I consider to be one of the very best I’ve ever known, and I’ve known a few, said she was gona retire, and would be doing so with a feeling of disappointment in her life.
I was so surprised to hear such a statement that I had to press for an explanation as to why she felt that way. Her answer stunned me. It was not from what she’s done with her career as an educator, she’d loved every minute in the class room, and continues to this day. The disappointment is from the direction she’s seen society move into the future. She described in detail the difference between her current class and her first class. The changes in manners, language skills, social skills, respect for others, willingness to share, willingness to help others, satisfaction with home life, happiness, fears, respect for authority, discipline, violence, anti social behavior, were some of the things she spoke about.
In many ways this was one of the most freighting conversations I’d ever be in. I’d never heard society’s evaluation laid out quite like that. This coming from one of the very best teachers I’ve ever known took me back a bit to say the least.
Don’t think I told ya, she teaches the First Grade. She sees the babies that are coming into the education system at the entry level. Babies fresh from home, ready to start into the formal education process to allow ‘em to become productive members of our future society. Babies that have not yet had the time or opportunity to be corrupted by the ills of society. Babies under the tutelage of their parents.
Seems I recall somewhere I read that if ya really want to know what’s going on in the family, ask the youngest member. Anybody remember Art Linkletter? Made a living doing just that. Called a TV Show “Kids Say The Dandiest Things” They did, and they still do, especially to their First Grade Teacher.
Well Sophia The Republican Cat finally woke up from her catnap, after checking her email, she comes running at me with all fur standing. Throws an email on the keyboard, jumps on the back of the chair and says “what the %^$#^$@%#$ ya think ‘bout that?” (gona have to wash that cat’s mouth out with soap)
Seems Sophia had somehow had gotten hold of a secret email from one of the top operatives in the Chicago Political Machine, an email to the White House informing the President that they had worked out the detail logic which will allow the President of officially blame the Iceland Volcano Eruptions on George Bush. Such an announcement is expected by the Republicans at any time. But certainly before the thing stops putting out all the ash and bringing most all of Europe back to earth. It’s hard to travel in a sand storm. Impossible to fly in a Volcanic Ash Cloud.
As always, you company this third Sunday of April has been most enjoyable. Thank you for being my friend.
Stay safe in Iraq, be especially careful in Afghanistan Delta People
From the East Wing, Smelling Lilacs, Recycling Pup Baby, Toothpaste Tax, A Good Teacher, And Blaming Bush
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
April 15th came and went and so did another tax year. I’ve said it before but in many ways I’ve one of the best jobs in the world. Put in all my overtime the worst part of the year. January to mid April, now if ya gotta pick a time to work most day and night, pick the winter time, can’t do anything outside anyways.
Come mid April, the world turns green, and everyone’s wanting to go outside and play. I do. I walk in the sunshine with the 2girldogs. Sophia comes along. Now Sophia, she doesn’t walk with us, she walks beside us, ’bout 20ft or so to the right, always to the right. Sophia is never to the left of anything. Some habits are hard to break even when you’re just out walking in the sunshine, singing little sunshine songs. To the right, but never with us. We stop, she stops. We turn, she turns. Always maintaining that 20ft space. Guess ya just gotta give some cats room, on the right.
Now for everyone who wanted to know where to go to get the Giant Bullfrog Legs, it’s kinda like those mushroom hunters that’ll never tell ya the place they found ‘em, just give ya a vague hint. Well my vague hint is “at Southfork”. If ya look real hard, you’ll find ‘em. If ya go early in the spring, ya can hear the Bells of Springtime at Southfork too.
The Maple Trees looking south from the East Wing are leaving out so fast it seems I can almost see ‘em grow. Pretty site, watching leaves grow. Those little micro-factories getting ready to process chlorophyll.
I’m surprised some politician has not yet figured out some way to tax those tree leaf factories for polluting the air. We’ve forever been told how factories pollute the air, and after all, a by-product of these nasty little factories is oxygen, and we all know how much that pollutes the air. And besides, oxygen is what makes fires burn, so they could accuse the trees of being fire hazards I’m sure the trees will be covered in the democratic “cap and trade” bill currently being considered in the Senate.
Now that the new health care law is in affect with its tax on the use of tanning beds, it only seems right that we tax trees for polluting the air with that dangerous oxygen. And another thing ‘bout those trees while I’m thinking ‘bout ‘em, they are all sucking up carbon dioxide. I think they should have to pay their fair share. The more carbon dioxide those trees use the more they should pay.
But some of those little trees, well they need help, so maybe the government should give them a helping hand, such as extra carbon dioxide and in order to assure their growth, maybe force all big trees within ¼ mile to fall over, so the little ones can get more sunshine. Big trees have lived long enough anyhow. Its ‘bout time somebody stepped and started making decisions on who should life and who should die. Those big trees thing they got it made, well, we’ll show ‘em. That’s what the big trees get for voting with the cat.
Did ya hear ‘bout the new toothpaste tax scheduled to kick in July 1st? Ya, all tubes of toothpaste sold after July 1st this year will have a computer chip in the tube, when ya purchase the toothpaste the tube will be scanned with your SS Number into the chip.
Then each time ya squeeze the tube, the chip records and stores the data. Satellites are positioned to scan every residence in the country every 24 hours to collect the toothpaste squeezing data. This data in turn will be fed into the government high speed computers and monthly toothpaste tax bills will be delivered to your mailbox. For those people receiving any type monthly Federal Check, (24.22% of society) the toothpaste tax will be automatically deducted from your check. For the rest of us, well we have the option of pay by mail, credit card or direct debit. For those who may choose to pay one year at a time, in advance of course, a pound of flesh.
The East Wing’s in full and Beautiful Springtime Bloom. Lilacs, Crab Apples, Apple Trees, Peach Trees, Pear Trees. Red Bud Trees. It hard to tell which is the prettiest. I love ‘em all. Just walking in the yards of the East Wing makes ya glad to be living in the country.
Almost forgot part of the pretty in the yard. They came home, those pretty little springtime friends of mine, those pretty little dandelions. And from the looks of the yards, they must have invited new friends over to visit.
Stargazed for a while last night in the cold, real cold. It felt much colder than it really was, just the result of getting used to warm weather quick. I don’t look at the moon too much anymore, but last night was the ideal time to moon look. Only ‘bout 8% of the moon was showing, so that makes ideal viewing. It was fun, didn’t see anybody up there though. Tried to find the space station and sync in on it, but the space station orbit at that time was outside my range of view. Oh well maybe next time we stargaze.
One of the side benefits of having you come visit the East Wing is all the email I get each week. I try to answer all my email, but sometimes do get behind. Sophia, The Republican Cat, tends to push her email answering off on me, so I get even more behind, but I do appreciate each and every comment received.
Had a lady tell me last week that she’s lived over 30 years in New York City and still misses the Northern Indiana Springtime. Most everybody thinks wherever they live is God’s Country. Well, looking south from the East Wing, I know of at least two votes for Northern Indiana. She’s not seen Lilacs in bloom for many years and still remembers the aroma of Lilacs in the Springtime.
It’s difficult to imagine a world without Springtime Blossoms, a world without green grass every where ya look, a world where dogs and cats don’t run free, where neighbors houses touch, where the front yard is concrete. Where the front yard is also sidewalk. City life.
All the springtime birds of the East Wing have finally calmed down, those who were looking for girl friends, and Lord knows there were a lot, have either found ‘em or gave up and went somewhere else to look. In either event, those remaining are now quite busy building nests and getting ready. Watching birds build nests is just one of the coolest things to see. Oh, if only we had that level of determination in our lives, well, we’d all be millionaires.
One of the neat things I do each year ‘round this time is to comb the Pup Baby every day and collect any loose winter hair that may be thinking ‘bout coming out anyway. Save this hair for a couple days and take it outside early in the morning, and place it in a good spot where I can see the birds reaction to such nest building materials. I saved Pup Baby’s hair for a week and put it out in the yard this morning.
By the time I got home from both church and taking my Mama out to lunch, most was already gone. The rest disappeared well before the sun went down. It’s kinda neat to think that some little unknown bird will be hatched in the softest of nests, and will grow up thinking that all nests are that way.
But what’s most cool ‘bout the whole deal is, I’m recycling Pup Baby! I think the Recycling Czar is gona be proposing a tax credit for pet recycling.
Did ya ever notice how the political types at the national level throw that term “tax credit” at ya every chance they get. Is that a way to ensure we vote for ‘em? A tax credit for buying a house, a car, windows, new furnace, new doors, becoming educated, insulation, being poor, refrigerators, being old, having babies, getting a job, losing a job, and this is just a very, very small sample of the tax credits available as the list seems to go forever. Who do ya think pays for these “tax credits”? We, as a people, are more and more looking for our government to hand us stuff, to make our decisions, to take care of us. Are we too unable to do so? I wonder.
I had an interesting conversation with a public school teacher the other day, a teacher who I consider to be one of the very best I’ve ever known, and I’ve known a few, said she was gona retire, and would be doing so with a feeling of disappointment in her life.
I was so surprised to hear such a statement that I had to press for an explanation as to why she felt that way. Her answer stunned me. It was not from what she’s done with her career as an educator, she’d loved every minute in the class room, and continues to this day. The disappointment is from the direction she’s seen society move into the future. She described in detail the difference between her current class and her first class. The changes in manners, language skills, social skills, respect for others, willingness to share, willingness to help others, satisfaction with home life, happiness, fears, respect for authority, discipline, violence, anti social behavior, were some of the things she spoke about.
In many ways this was one of the most freighting conversations I’d ever be in. I’d never heard society’s evaluation laid out quite like that. This coming from one of the very best teachers I’ve ever known took me back a bit to say the least.
Don’t think I told ya, she teaches the First Grade. She sees the babies that are coming into the education system at the entry level. Babies fresh from home, ready to start into the formal education process to allow ‘em to become productive members of our future society. Babies that have not yet had the time or opportunity to be corrupted by the ills of society. Babies under the tutelage of their parents.
Seems I recall somewhere I read that if ya really want to know what’s going on in the family, ask the youngest member. Anybody remember Art Linkletter? Made a living doing just that. Called a TV Show “Kids Say The Dandiest Things” They did, and they still do, especially to their First Grade Teacher.
Well Sophia The Republican Cat finally woke up from her catnap, after checking her email, she comes running at me with all fur standing. Throws an email on the keyboard, jumps on the back of the chair and says “what the %^$#^$@%#$ ya think ‘bout that?” (gona have to wash that cat’s mouth out with soap)
Seems Sophia had somehow had gotten hold of a secret email from one of the top operatives in the Chicago Political Machine, an email to the White House informing the President that they had worked out the detail logic which will allow the President of officially blame the Iceland Volcano Eruptions on George Bush. Such an announcement is expected by the Republicans at any time. But certainly before the thing stops putting out all the ash and bringing most all of Europe back to earth. It’s hard to travel in a sand storm. Impossible to fly in a Volcanic Ash Cloud.
As always, you company this third Sunday of April has been most enjoyable. Thank you for being my friend.
Stay safe in Iraq, be especially careful in Afghanistan Delta People
From the East Wing, Smelling Lilacs, Recycling Pup Baby, Toothpaste Tax, A Good Teacher, And Blaming Bush
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
Sunday, April 11, 2010
From the East Wing, With Sophia's email, The Bells of Springtime and The Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork
Greetings to all, and welcome new friends to the East Wing.
For all of those who offered to come to the aid of the Calico Republican Cat, not to worry, I assure you the cat can hold her own, not only with the 2girldogs but the rest of the world, with one paw behind her back. Sophia is fine, and no, the 2girldogs didn’t get physical with her. It was a verbal attack only. The fur didn’t fly, the cat didn’t die. Good thing Sophia chose not to get physical with the 2girldogs, else I’d be looking for new girldogs.
Last week’s e-mail truly amazed me at the number of people who were truthfully concerned for the safety of Sophia The Republican Cat. Good thing I didn’t list an emergency help phone number for Sophia. The best email came from a fellow in Texas, it was only two lines, but it seemed to sum up the sentiments of a large majority of last week’s e-mail, it said:
NOW IS THE TIME FOR ALL GOOD MEN TO COME TO THE AID OF THE PARTY.
YOU GO – GIRLCAT SOPHIA !!!
It could be one of the things I liked ‘bout that email was it somehow reminded me of 1st year typing class, and I don’t know why. I taught myself to type when I was in the 7th grade, a neighbor gave me a little portable typewriter, a Royal. Don’t remember where I got the book, but I got hold of a first year typing book and the rest is history, taught myself “home row” and stuff like that. How many people still know ‘bout manual returns, when the bell rang? Needless to say, when I got to high school I took typing I and II. Think I learned to type early ‘cause I had things to say, still do. I like to type, it’s kinda like talking with your fingers.
Received a gift Friday last, a dandelion, that pretty little springtime friend of mine. She always comes back to grow and play in the green, green grass of home.
I’m so enjoying the sounds of springtime nights. So much so that the other night I decided to go out and visit those little sounds of the night. They’re frogs, ya know, those sounds that come to your ears from the darkness, from the nighttime. Those sounds come from little frogs called Spring Peepers.
Little fellers, them Spring Peepers, smaller than your thumb. But happy boys indeed, happy to be alive in the springtime. All the sounds from all those little boy frogs remind me of sleigh bells ringing. In fact, these little guys are called the Bells of Springtime. They’re certainly music to my new ears, those Bells of Springtime. This year is the first time I have heard the Bells of Springtime in a long time, a long time, and it’s still pretty music to my ears.
When the crushing cold of winter starts to yield to warmer times, as it does every year, even when we think it’ll never end, it does, and on a cold night, the wind is still, and the frost is heavy. The moon, a bright yellow ball hanging in a cloudless sky. While the air is so crisp ya could break with a hammer a movement starts under the dead leaves of autumn past. Life resurrecting.
First one eye, then the other, one leg moves, then the another. In a matter of minutes everything is working just the way he left ‘em when he dug deep under the leaves to freeze to death for the winter.
The little frog is coming back from a place between death and darkness, the twilight zone for frogs.
A Bell of Springtime is tuning up to ring.
I almost forgot to tell ya an interesting thing ‘bout not only the Peeps but all frogs. It’s the way they survive the winter. Now frogs have the ability to make their own kinda anti-freeze. I’m already starting to see some of my emails next week, laughing ‘bout the frog anti-freeze joke. Before ya start laughing, ya better check it out, ‘cause I’m telling ya I know a lot ‘bout frogs.
‘Cause one time when I was little, my Uncle Hagins took me frog hunting when I was at Southfork in the summertime. Now we didn’t go hunting for Peep regular frogs, oh no, we went hunting for the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork.
Now ya gotta hunt these Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork in the creek bed where it’s dark and almost scary. At the place where the air smells like snakes and the sun never shines ‘cause the hills are too close together. The only thing there is the water, the smell of snakes, and maybe even the snakes, and the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, and some times, empty pop bottles.
We went right there, my Uncle Hagins and me. We went to hunt the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. And it didn’t take long to find ‘em. We found their trail a long ways before we got to the place where the air smelled like snakes, ‘cause that’s where Uncle Hagins said the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork lived.
When Uncle Hagins showed me the Giant Bullfrog Tracks, at first I thought that it was a person’s footprint in the mud, but Uncle Hagins showed me the difference, ‘cause he knew ‘bout Giant Bullfrog Tracks and stuff like that. Uncle Hagins said if we just kept following those tracks it’d lead us right to the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork.
To tell ya the truth, I was almost scared, but I knew that my Uncle Hagins wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me, ‘cause I was his favorite nephew, and he had a lot of nephews, so I just walked a little bit closer to him and didn’t tell him ‘bout me being almost scared an all. ‘Cause when you’re seven years old and out hunting Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork where it’s dark, that’s almost like being a man, so ya can’t say you’re afraid of anything. But I was, almost.
Then Uncle Hagins said “BobbyRay, you smell snakes?” That really, almost, made me scared. I said “yah” Uncle Hagins said “me too” I could hear my heart beat in my ears, but I wasn’t scared.
Uncle Hagins had in his hand a gig. Now a gig is a long stick with a prong on one end and it’s used to catch fish or frogs, and today we were gigging the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. Well when I thought my chest was gona break from my heart beating so fast in my ears, Uncle Hagins throws his gig into the water, runs over and pulls up this Giant Bullfrog of Southfork, stuck right there on the prongs of the gig. Uncle Hagins takes the Giant Bullfrog of Southfork off the hooks and no sooner than that, he throws again and in less than a minute we have two Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. Uncle Hagins gigged two more Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork in just a few more minutes.
Then he said it’s my turn to gig a Giant Bullfrog of Southfork. Well, the pole of the gig was a lot taller than me, but I was bound and determined that I was gona gig a Giant Bullfrog of Southfork, or die from a snake bite trying right here in the waters of Southfork.
Two time I tried to throw the spear, but it didn’t go far enough. So Uncle Hagins said that maybe if we both held on at the same time maybe that would work. Now don’t ya know, the very first time me and Uncle Hagins threw that spear together it struck a Giant Bullfrog of Southfork. We had to throw five or six more times before we got another hit, but finally another trophy.
With 6 Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork in hand, Uncle Hagins said that he thought that was ‘bout all we could carry home. We started out for home with Uncle Hagins carrying his four Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork and me carrying my two Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. That didn’t last long, after ‘bout a hundred yards or so, I had to stop and rest, ‘cause these Giant Bullfrogs were ‘bout to weight me down to the point where I couldn’t go no more. We rested a little while an started for home again, but same thing, ‘bout a hundred yards or so, I’m wanting to stop and rest from the heavy weight of these Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork.
Uncle Hagins said, the way he figured it, at the rate we were going, we’d get home ‘bout Christmas Time, if we were lucky, so he had to do something different. Uncle Hagins cut down two Willow Trees, one bigger than the other. On the bigger one, he cut a notch on each end. He took the smaller tree and took all the bark of it, and threw the skinned tree away. Uncle Hagins took the bark strips and tied up three Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork into two bundles, he then hooked these bundles over the ends of the pole with notches. He raised one end of the pole with the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork and told me to help lift the other as he raised it to his shoulders. And I did, as Uncle Hagins picked up all the six Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork on his shoulders. We didn’t have to stop any more on the way home.
Talk ‘bout being surprised. Well they sure were surprised to see so many Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. Uncle Hagins told ever body how good I was a gigging Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, and how he was just lucky to get two and how I gigged four, I didn’t tell anybody the difference. I just thought maybe Uncle Hagins forgot who got who.
One of the down sides of hunting the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, is when ya catch ‘em, ya gotta clean ‘em. I’m not gona talk much ‘bout that, ‘cause that’s not as much fun as the gigging part. When ya do the cleaning, it’s kinda like cleaning fish, but ya don’t hear your heart beat in your ears though.
Well the thing that people eat from Bullfrogs are Bullfrog legs. Now regular Bullfrogs have little Bullfrog legs smaller than chicken legs. Not the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, these Bullfrog legs were the size big hams, each one weighing maybe 20 pounds apiece. Since the Bullfrog legs were so big, Lou said we should smoke ‘em in the Smoke House like Uncle Hagins did the hams when it was time to kill the pigs. Everybody thought that was a good idea. That night we put the cleaned Giant Bullfrog Legs of Southfork in the coldspring and went to bed. I could hardly sleep, thinking ‘bout me gigging those four Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork like Uncle Hagins said.
The first thing in the morning me and Uncle Hagins wrapped the Giant Bullfrog Legs and hung ‘em up on hooks from the top of the ceiling in the Smoke House. Then Uncle Hagins build the fires under the Smoke House, he knew how to do all that stuff, my Uncle Hagins knew how to do a lot of really neat stuff. He was my favorite uncle, and like Uncle Hagins having a lot of nephews, well I had a lot of uncles too.
I don’t remember how long they had to stay in the Smoke House, but we left Southfork and went home, and I started into the first grade at Weeksbury. We didn’t go back to Southfork till Thanksgiving. When my Aunt Gladys and my mama cooked our Thanksgiving Dinner, we didn’t have turkey, and we didn’t have goose, we had one Smoked Giant Bullfrog Leg. There were ‘bout 15 or 18 people there for dinner, and most everybody took leftover Smoked Giant Bullfrog Leg home for supper. Big frogs, those Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork.
But getting back to this frog anti-freeze thing, during the winter, a frog’s body temperature falls and its metabolism drops. Its heart can even stop beating and start again in the future. Too bad we the people can’t do that little trick. And we think we know magic. ‘Course we can do a lot of things frogs can’t.
Many frogs dig into mud or deep holes to escape killing frost, but some do practice controlled freezing. They produce excess sugars or starches to prevent damage to sensitive tissues while the remaining water in their bodies turns to ice. The North American wood frog, including the Peeps, live as far north as Alaska. They can survive with 65% of the water in their body frozen solid. I guess ya could take those little fellers, put ‘em on sticks and have Peepsicles.
Now those Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, to this day, don’t ever worry ‘bout freezing in the wintertime, no, they just build themselves a campfire, sit around and tell stories ‘bout how little boys used to wade in the waters of Southfork looking for ‘em in the summertime.
Setting on the back of the chair, Sophia read the story as I typed, laughed so hard she damn near fell off the back of the chair, twice. Said she never knew frogs got that big. Told her they didn’t in Indiana. It’s a Kentucky thing.
Stay Safe in Iraq and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, With Sophia’s E-Mail, The Bells of Springtime, and the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
For all of those who offered to come to the aid of the Calico Republican Cat, not to worry, I assure you the cat can hold her own, not only with the 2girldogs but the rest of the world, with one paw behind her back. Sophia is fine, and no, the 2girldogs didn’t get physical with her. It was a verbal attack only. The fur didn’t fly, the cat didn’t die. Good thing Sophia chose not to get physical with the 2girldogs, else I’d be looking for new girldogs.
Last week’s e-mail truly amazed me at the number of people who were truthfully concerned for the safety of Sophia The Republican Cat. Good thing I didn’t list an emergency help phone number for Sophia. The best email came from a fellow in Texas, it was only two lines, but it seemed to sum up the sentiments of a large majority of last week’s e-mail, it said:
NOW IS THE TIME FOR ALL GOOD MEN TO COME TO THE AID OF THE PARTY.
YOU GO – GIRLCAT SOPHIA !!!
It could be one of the things I liked ‘bout that email was it somehow reminded me of 1st year typing class, and I don’t know why. I taught myself to type when I was in the 7th grade, a neighbor gave me a little portable typewriter, a Royal. Don’t remember where I got the book, but I got hold of a first year typing book and the rest is history, taught myself “home row” and stuff like that. How many people still know ‘bout manual returns, when the bell rang? Needless to say, when I got to high school I took typing I and II. Think I learned to type early ‘cause I had things to say, still do. I like to type, it’s kinda like talking with your fingers.
Received a gift Friday last, a dandelion, that pretty little springtime friend of mine. She always comes back to grow and play in the green, green grass of home.
I’m so enjoying the sounds of springtime nights. So much so that the other night I decided to go out and visit those little sounds of the night. They’re frogs, ya know, those sounds that come to your ears from the darkness, from the nighttime. Those sounds come from little frogs called Spring Peepers.
Little fellers, them Spring Peepers, smaller than your thumb. But happy boys indeed, happy to be alive in the springtime. All the sounds from all those little boy frogs remind me of sleigh bells ringing. In fact, these little guys are called the Bells of Springtime. They’re certainly music to my new ears, those Bells of Springtime. This year is the first time I have heard the Bells of Springtime in a long time, a long time, and it’s still pretty music to my ears.
When the crushing cold of winter starts to yield to warmer times, as it does every year, even when we think it’ll never end, it does, and on a cold night, the wind is still, and the frost is heavy. The moon, a bright yellow ball hanging in a cloudless sky. While the air is so crisp ya could break with a hammer a movement starts under the dead leaves of autumn past. Life resurrecting.
First one eye, then the other, one leg moves, then the another. In a matter of minutes everything is working just the way he left ‘em when he dug deep under the leaves to freeze to death for the winter.
The little frog is coming back from a place between death and darkness, the twilight zone for frogs.
A Bell of Springtime is tuning up to ring.
I almost forgot to tell ya an interesting thing ‘bout not only the Peeps but all frogs. It’s the way they survive the winter. Now frogs have the ability to make their own kinda anti-freeze. I’m already starting to see some of my emails next week, laughing ‘bout the frog anti-freeze joke. Before ya start laughing, ya better check it out, ‘cause I’m telling ya I know a lot ‘bout frogs.
‘Cause one time when I was little, my Uncle Hagins took me frog hunting when I was at Southfork in the summertime. Now we didn’t go hunting for Peep regular frogs, oh no, we went hunting for the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork.
Now ya gotta hunt these Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork in the creek bed where it’s dark and almost scary. At the place where the air smells like snakes and the sun never shines ‘cause the hills are too close together. The only thing there is the water, the smell of snakes, and maybe even the snakes, and the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, and some times, empty pop bottles.
We went right there, my Uncle Hagins and me. We went to hunt the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. And it didn’t take long to find ‘em. We found their trail a long ways before we got to the place where the air smelled like snakes, ‘cause that’s where Uncle Hagins said the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork lived.
When Uncle Hagins showed me the Giant Bullfrog Tracks, at first I thought that it was a person’s footprint in the mud, but Uncle Hagins showed me the difference, ‘cause he knew ‘bout Giant Bullfrog Tracks and stuff like that. Uncle Hagins said if we just kept following those tracks it’d lead us right to the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork.
To tell ya the truth, I was almost scared, but I knew that my Uncle Hagins wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me, ‘cause I was his favorite nephew, and he had a lot of nephews, so I just walked a little bit closer to him and didn’t tell him ‘bout me being almost scared an all. ‘Cause when you’re seven years old and out hunting Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork where it’s dark, that’s almost like being a man, so ya can’t say you’re afraid of anything. But I was, almost.
Then Uncle Hagins said “BobbyRay, you smell snakes?” That really, almost, made me scared. I said “yah” Uncle Hagins said “me too” I could hear my heart beat in my ears, but I wasn’t scared.
Uncle Hagins had in his hand a gig. Now a gig is a long stick with a prong on one end and it’s used to catch fish or frogs, and today we were gigging the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. Well when I thought my chest was gona break from my heart beating so fast in my ears, Uncle Hagins throws his gig into the water, runs over and pulls up this Giant Bullfrog of Southfork, stuck right there on the prongs of the gig. Uncle Hagins takes the Giant Bullfrog of Southfork off the hooks and no sooner than that, he throws again and in less than a minute we have two Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. Uncle Hagins gigged two more Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork in just a few more minutes.
Then he said it’s my turn to gig a Giant Bullfrog of Southfork. Well, the pole of the gig was a lot taller than me, but I was bound and determined that I was gona gig a Giant Bullfrog of Southfork, or die from a snake bite trying right here in the waters of Southfork.
Two time I tried to throw the spear, but it didn’t go far enough. So Uncle Hagins said that maybe if we both held on at the same time maybe that would work. Now don’t ya know, the very first time me and Uncle Hagins threw that spear together it struck a Giant Bullfrog of Southfork. We had to throw five or six more times before we got another hit, but finally another trophy.
With 6 Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork in hand, Uncle Hagins said that he thought that was ‘bout all we could carry home. We started out for home with Uncle Hagins carrying his four Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork and me carrying my two Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. That didn’t last long, after ‘bout a hundred yards or so, I had to stop and rest, ‘cause these Giant Bullfrogs were ‘bout to weight me down to the point where I couldn’t go no more. We rested a little while an started for home again, but same thing, ‘bout a hundred yards or so, I’m wanting to stop and rest from the heavy weight of these Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork.
Uncle Hagins said, the way he figured it, at the rate we were going, we’d get home ‘bout Christmas Time, if we were lucky, so he had to do something different. Uncle Hagins cut down two Willow Trees, one bigger than the other. On the bigger one, he cut a notch on each end. He took the smaller tree and took all the bark of it, and threw the skinned tree away. Uncle Hagins took the bark strips and tied up three Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork into two bundles, he then hooked these bundles over the ends of the pole with notches. He raised one end of the pole with the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork and told me to help lift the other as he raised it to his shoulders. And I did, as Uncle Hagins picked up all the six Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork on his shoulders. We didn’t have to stop any more on the way home.
Talk ‘bout being surprised. Well they sure were surprised to see so many Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork. Uncle Hagins told ever body how good I was a gigging Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, and how he was just lucky to get two and how I gigged four, I didn’t tell anybody the difference. I just thought maybe Uncle Hagins forgot who got who.
One of the down sides of hunting the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, is when ya catch ‘em, ya gotta clean ‘em. I’m not gona talk much ‘bout that, ‘cause that’s not as much fun as the gigging part. When ya do the cleaning, it’s kinda like cleaning fish, but ya don’t hear your heart beat in your ears though.
Well the thing that people eat from Bullfrogs are Bullfrog legs. Now regular Bullfrogs have little Bullfrog legs smaller than chicken legs. Not the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, these Bullfrog legs were the size big hams, each one weighing maybe 20 pounds apiece. Since the Bullfrog legs were so big, Lou said we should smoke ‘em in the Smoke House like Uncle Hagins did the hams when it was time to kill the pigs. Everybody thought that was a good idea. That night we put the cleaned Giant Bullfrog Legs of Southfork in the coldspring and went to bed. I could hardly sleep, thinking ‘bout me gigging those four Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork like Uncle Hagins said.
The first thing in the morning me and Uncle Hagins wrapped the Giant Bullfrog Legs and hung ‘em up on hooks from the top of the ceiling in the Smoke House. Then Uncle Hagins build the fires under the Smoke House, he knew how to do all that stuff, my Uncle Hagins knew how to do a lot of really neat stuff. He was my favorite uncle, and like Uncle Hagins having a lot of nephews, well I had a lot of uncles too.
I don’t remember how long they had to stay in the Smoke House, but we left Southfork and went home, and I started into the first grade at Weeksbury. We didn’t go back to Southfork till Thanksgiving. When my Aunt Gladys and my mama cooked our Thanksgiving Dinner, we didn’t have turkey, and we didn’t have goose, we had one Smoked Giant Bullfrog Leg. There were ‘bout 15 or 18 people there for dinner, and most everybody took leftover Smoked Giant Bullfrog Leg home for supper. Big frogs, those Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork.
But getting back to this frog anti-freeze thing, during the winter, a frog’s body temperature falls and its metabolism drops. Its heart can even stop beating and start again in the future. Too bad we the people can’t do that little trick. And we think we know magic. ‘Course we can do a lot of things frogs can’t.
Many frogs dig into mud or deep holes to escape killing frost, but some do practice controlled freezing. They produce excess sugars or starches to prevent damage to sensitive tissues while the remaining water in their bodies turns to ice. The North American wood frog, including the Peeps, live as far north as Alaska. They can survive with 65% of the water in their body frozen solid. I guess ya could take those little fellers, put ‘em on sticks and have Peepsicles.
Now those Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork, to this day, don’t ever worry ‘bout freezing in the wintertime, no, they just build themselves a campfire, sit around and tell stories ‘bout how little boys used to wade in the waters of Southfork looking for ‘em in the summertime.
Setting on the back of the chair, Sophia read the story as I typed, laughed so hard she damn near fell off the back of the chair, twice. Said she never knew frogs got that big. Told her they didn’t in Indiana. It’s a Kentucky thing.
Stay Safe in Iraq and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, With Sophia’s E-Mail, The Bells of Springtime, and the Giant Bullfrogs of Southfork
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
Sunday, April 4, 2010
From the East Wing, With Early Birds, Lamb Cakes, The Winds of Time, Attack Dogs, The Nightlife of Springtime
Greetings to all, and welcome new friends to the East Wing.
As I look to the south from the East Wing Windows my Maple Trees is almost popping their branches to push the leaves out to the sunshine. This cool crisp air of early morning is filled with birds, both in the air and just walking ‘round on the grass. These birds were awake before me, so I don’t know it the early one got it or not. But I do see one Robin out there who seems to be smiling a big lot. If he didn’t get the worm, he for sure got something this morning. Happy bird, that Robin.
And so I start my day by saying a very Happy Easter to all! It seems that as long as I can remember I’ve been asked the same question by somebody every Easter season, the question being how come Easter comes on different days and Christmas comes on the same day every year. One time I told somebody that the reason was Christmas is a federal holiday and Easter’s not. They believed it till I told ‘em different. Easter is the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Vernal Equinox.
Easter is the very bedrock of Christianity itself. Easter is the most Holy of all Holy Days of the year in the Christian Faith. With that being said, what ‘bout the rabbit?
It turns out Easter is kinda two things served up as one like peas & carrots in the same can. The Christian side of Easter is in the bible. Now don’t crazy on who’s bible I’m talking about, there’re several different bibles and they all tell the same story ‘bout the crucifixion and resurrection.
It’s important that we Christians don’t get too critical of somebody using a different bible than we do, a little research into the origin of bibles may both enlighten, embarrass or even resurrect deep dark questions on the back roads of your memories. Bibles are Bibles. If ya really want to have a truly moving experience, read a different bible than the one you use at church. Another idea, read any bible of your choice published over 100 years ago, ya may not recognize it as the same story.
Yet another suggestion would be read the gospel of Judas. Yes the gospel of Judas, now that one didn’t get into the big book and as a result never made it to the New York Times Top 10 List, but the Gospel of Judas does exist and just as the first four chapters of the New Testament tell the same story for the point of view of four different people, the Gospel of Judas tells the story from yet another point of view. It’s a gospel that many Christians would find very disturbing, that Gospel of Judas.
It’s easy to see how the word Christmas is identified with Christianity, not so with Easter.
Easter got its name from Eastre or Eostre the Anglo-Saxon goddess of fertility and rebirth. Along time ago people celebrated the beginning of spring at the vernal equinox, when day and night are equal in length, by blessing seeds before planting them and at the same time placing colored eggs on an altar. They believed that this ceremony would bring them fertility for the upcoming year.
When the early Christian missionaries noticed that a pagan party took place around the time of the resurrection of Christ, they adopted Easter as a Christian holiday to help attract the pagans to Christianity. This may explain why some of the TV preachers are such crooks instead of Christians, such crooks may well end up in the seventh layer of hell. Now I don’t know if Jim and Tammy Baker are/were saints or sinners, but I sure wouldn’t want my final place by their side, just in case. But who knows, their final resting place may well be in the arms of Abraham. It’s not my job to judge, just to tell the story.
As Christians adopted Easter, they matched the festival of the springtime with a sermon. Following the tradition of dressing up for church, Easter Sunday became a special occasion to wear your very best clothes. In fact, many regarded Easter as the first time to wear that new dress and "Easter Bonnet". In the early 1900's families would to stroll to church and home again on Easter to show off their "Sunday best."
Out East, it seemed to be more of a big deal than here in the Midwest. Songs, stage plays and even movies were made of the this “Easter Parade” of new spring clothing. At Toto we simply called ‘em “Church Clothes” and they were seldom new, just clean. We only got new clothes to start the school year, and for sure it was never “Church Clothes”.
The Easter basket evolved from a Catholic tradition, where families brought a basket of food to mass on Easter Sunday to have it blessed for the evening meal. Later, children would use Easter baskets to gather colored eggs and candy.
Now the Easter Bunny is a whole different deal. I don’t know a single person that didn’t at one time believe in both Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny. I did. Still do, just a little different view now.
Where does a rabbit handing out eggs come from? Not from Toto Indiana that’s for sure. I believe I heard when I was a kid that the Easter Bunny originated from Germany around the mid 1500’s or so and came to our country in the 1600’s thru the Pennsylvania Dutch. I knew a Dutch guy one time, his name was Moray.
Did ya color Easter Eggs this year? Why not? I’ve colored Easter Eggs all my life and this year was no different. I colored eggs on Good Friday with two special friends of mine, adopted grandboys, Evan and Colon. We colored eggs at Grand Central Station. After the egg coloring we decorated a Lamb Cake. Now most everybody’s seen a Lamb Cake, but did ya ever put the stuff on it? We did. The three of us decorated and decorated and decorated. When we got done, a white wooly lamb was lying on a bed of green grass.
Frosting was Cream Cheese, eyes were jelly beans, nose was chocolate chip, wool was shredded coconut, grass was green dyed coconut. A more spectacular lamb has never graced the halls of Grand Central Station. Such an artistic creation offered up for human consumption in this thing we call “Easter Brunch”.
And so the Lamb Cake will come again, along with the coloring of eggs, the Vernal Equinox to start another spring, another Easter will come, another Easter question as to why not the same day, and life goes on, with or without us, life goes on. It’s kinda a humbling thought to think how little we will be missed when we pass. Yes life goes on.
I went outside the other day in the wind and got to thinking ‘bout the system of identifying the wind velocity. Don’t know if ya ever heard of it or not, but it’s called the Beaufort Force. Beaufort was an Sea Captain and he came up with this idea while sailing on the oceans. To this day, it’s used at sea as well as on the land.
Now the Beaufort Force is a description of what ya feel and see when the wind blows. We can’t see the wind, we feel the wind and can see things that are affected by the force of the blowing wind, but can’t see the wind. The Beaufort Force goes from 0 to 12. Most everyone has heard of the descriptive parts of the Beaufort Force, I’ll bet very few have seen it all laid out at the same time with the miles per hour attached to the action of the wind.
0 Calm Smoke goes straight, up less than 1mph
1 Light air. Wind direction is shown by smoke drift but not by wind vane. 1-3 mph
2 Light breeze. Wind is felt on the face; leaves rustle; wind vanes move. 4-7 mph
3 Gentle breeze. Leaves and small twigs move steadily; wind extends small flags straight out. 8-12 mph
4 Moderate breeze. Wind raises dust and loose paper; small branches move. 13-18 mph
5 Fresh breeze. Small trees sway; waves form on lakes. 19-24 mph
6 Strong breeze. Large branches move; wires whistle; umbrellas are difficult to use. 25-31mph
7 Moderate gale. Whole trees are in motion; walking against the wind is difficult. 32-38 mph
8 Fresh gale. Twigs break from trees; walking against the wind is very difficult. 39-46 mph
9 Strong gale. Buildings suffer minimal damage; roof shingles are removed. 47-54 mph
10 Whole gale. Trees are uprooted. 55-63 mph
11 Violent storm. Widespread damage. 64-72 mph
12 Hurricane, widespread destruction. 73 mph and above
I’ve always been interested in the weather. I had a Weather Rock in Toto I used to use for weather forecasting, but I’ll save that story for another day.
The warm spring weather has turned Sophia into the Great Calico Hunter of Birds. The yard is now full of birds selecting nesting material. Sophia is offering her assistance and expertise in those matters. Sophia is a tree climber of extraordinary skills. She runs to the top of Maple Trees with the same grace as setting on the back of my chair.
She’s posted on her Facebook Page that she’s available for house calls on nesting consultation, and they talk ‘bout the wolf guarding the hen house.
Last week the worm turned, so to speak, in the East Wing. After hearing the cat break bad on the President for some time, the 2girldogs took matters in their own paws and put the cat in the trick box. Sophia was given a lesson in Chicago Style Politics, dog eat dog, so to speak.
The 2girdogs marched into the cat house, backed Sophia into a corner and then the Gray Lady, the most gentle creature of the East Wing said “ I’ve got something to say to you, you Limbaugh loving, Glen Beck suck up, Sara Palin protector, Tea Party joiner, you miserable pathetic piece of cat flesh. It’s cats like you that make the President’s job hard. I’m sick and tired of hearing from you loser cats. And you have the guts to call the President a piece of crap, then you’re a piece of worthless cat carp yourself, so there!”
Whereupon Mustina, the Pup Baby, jumped into the fray, and with all the protection afforded her by the company of her mother in the face of hostility, and with a grin from ear to ear, said “YAH !”
The Pup Baby’s command of the dog language is not the most extraordinary to say the least. Nobody ever said Pup Baby’s a Rocket Scientist. But she can bark in both Spanish and Italian. She’s trying to learn to bark in Chinese, but hasn’t got the yang of it yet.
Nighttime has come to the East Wing, this Easter Evening, 2010. I set in the darkness with light only from the screen, with all the 2girldogs asleep on their couches. Sophia in her usual place on the back of my chair. All the doors are open and the sounds of the spring nighttime have come inside the East Wing. I’m enjoying sounds I’ve not heard for some twenty years. The magic of my new digital hearing aids. I’d forgotten how much alive the spring nighttime is with the sound of fellows looking for a date.
Just when I thought I was done for the night, Sophia whispered in my ear, “damn democrats, always try to kill the messenger and never address the message. I’ll get those 2girldogs, just wait and see”.
Stay safe in Iraq and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, Early Birds, Lamb Cakes, The Winds of Time, The Gray Lady Attacks, Pup Baby Learning Chinese, The Nightlife of Springtime
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
As I look to the south from the East Wing Windows my Maple Trees is almost popping their branches to push the leaves out to the sunshine. This cool crisp air of early morning is filled with birds, both in the air and just walking ‘round on the grass. These birds were awake before me, so I don’t know it the early one got it or not. But I do see one Robin out there who seems to be smiling a big lot. If he didn’t get the worm, he for sure got something this morning. Happy bird, that Robin.
And so I start my day by saying a very Happy Easter to all! It seems that as long as I can remember I’ve been asked the same question by somebody every Easter season, the question being how come Easter comes on different days and Christmas comes on the same day every year. One time I told somebody that the reason was Christmas is a federal holiday and Easter’s not. They believed it till I told ‘em different. Easter is the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Vernal Equinox.
Easter is the very bedrock of Christianity itself. Easter is the most Holy of all Holy Days of the year in the Christian Faith. With that being said, what ‘bout the rabbit?
It turns out Easter is kinda two things served up as one like peas & carrots in the same can. The Christian side of Easter is in the bible. Now don’t crazy on who’s bible I’m talking about, there’re several different bibles and they all tell the same story ‘bout the crucifixion and resurrection.
It’s important that we Christians don’t get too critical of somebody using a different bible than we do, a little research into the origin of bibles may both enlighten, embarrass or even resurrect deep dark questions on the back roads of your memories. Bibles are Bibles. If ya really want to have a truly moving experience, read a different bible than the one you use at church. Another idea, read any bible of your choice published over 100 years ago, ya may not recognize it as the same story.
Yet another suggestion would be read the gospel of Judas. Yes the gospel of Judas, now that one didn’t get into the big book and as a result never made it to the New York Times Top 10 List, but the Gospel of Judas does exist and just as the first four chapters of the New Testament tell the same story for the point of view of four different people, the Gospel of Judas tells the story from yet another point of view. It’s a gospel that many Christians would find very disturbing, that Gospel of Judas.
It’s easy to see how the word Christmas is identified with Christianity, not so with Easter.
Easter got its name from Eastre or Eostre the Anglo-Saxon goddess of fertility and rebirth. Along time ago people celebrated the beginning of spring at the vernal equinox, when day and night are equal in length, by blessing seeds before planting them and at the same time placing colored eggs on an altar. They believed that this ceremony would bring them fertility for the upcoming year.
When the early Christian missionaries noticed that a pagan party took place around the time of the resurrection of Christ, they adopted Easter as a Christian holiday to help attract the pagans to Christianity. This may explain why some of the TV preachers are such crooks instead of Christians, such crooks may well end up in the seventh layer of hell. Now I don’t know if Jim and Tammy Baker are/were saints or sinners, but I sure wouldn’t want my final place by their side, just in case. But who knows, their final resting place may well be in the arms of Abraham. It’s not my job to judge, just to tell the story.
As Christians adopted Easter, they matched the festival of the springtime with a sermon. Following the tradition of dressing up for church, Easter Sunday became a special occasion to wear your very best clothes. In fact, many regarded Easter as the first time to wear that new dress and "Easter Bonnet". In the early 1900's families would to stroll to church and home again on Easter to show off their "Sunday best."
Out East, it seemed to be more of a big deal than here in the Midwest. Songs, stage plays and even movies were made of the this “Easter Parade” of new spring clothing. At Toto we simply called ‘em “Church Clothes” and they were seldom new, just clean. We only got new clothes to start the school year, and for sure it was never “Church Clothes”.
The Easter basket evolved from a Catholic tradition, where families brought a basket of food to mass on Easter Sunday to have it blessed for the evening meal. Later, children would use Easter baskets to gather colored eggs and candy.
Now the Easter Bunny is a whole different deal. I don’t know a single person that didn’t at one time believe in both Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny. I did. Still do, just a little different view now.
Where does a rabbit handing out eggs come from? Not from Toto Indiana that’s for sure. I believe I heard when I was a kid that the Easter Bunny originated from Germany around the mid 1500’s or so and came to our country in the 1600’s thru the Pennsylvania Dutch. I knew a Dutch guy one time, his name was Moray.
Did ya color Easter Eggs this year? Why not? I’ve colored Easter Eggs all my life and this year was no different. I colored eggs on Good Friday with two special friends of mine, adopted grandboys, Evan and Colon. We colored eggs at Grand Central Station. After the egg coloring we decorated a Lamb Cake. Now most everybody’s seen a Lamb Cake, but did ya ever put the stuff on it? We did. The three of us decorated and decorated and decorated. When we got done, a white wooly lamb was lying on a bed of green grass.
Frosting was Cream Cheese, eyes were jelly beans, nose was chocolate chip, wool was shredded coconut, grass was green dyed coconut. A more spectacular lamb has never graced the halls of Grand Central Station. Such an artistic creation offered up for human consumption in this thing we call “Easter Brunch”.
And so the Lamb Cake will come again, along with the coloring of eggs, the Vernal Equinox to start another spring, another Easter will come, another Easter question as to why not the same day, and life goes on, with or without us, life goes on. It’s kinda a humbling thought to think how little we will be missed when we pass. Yes life goes on.
I went outside the other day in the wind and got to thinking ‘bout the system of identifying the wind velocity. Don’t know if ya ever heard of it or not, but it’s called the Beaufort Force. Beaufort was an Sea Captain and he came up with this idea while sailing on the oceans. To this day, it’s used at sea as well as on the land.
Now the Beaufort Force is a description of what ya feel and see when the wind blows. We can’t see the wind, we feel the wind and can see things that are affected by the force of the blowing wind, but can’t see the wind. The Beaufort Force goes from 0 to 12. Most everyone has heard of the descriptive parts of the Beaufort Force, I’ll bet very few have seen it all laid out at the same time with the miles per hour attached to the action of the wind.
0 Calm Smoke goes straight, up less than 1mph
1 Light air. Wind direction is shown by smoke drift but not by wind vane. 1-3 mph
2 Light breeze. Wind is felt on the face; leaves rustle; wind vanes move. 4-7 mph
3 Gentle breeze. Leaves and small twigs move steadily; wind extends small flags straight out. 8-12 mph
4 Moderate breeze. Wind raises dust and loose paper; small branches move. 13-18 mph
5 Fresh breeze. Small trees sway; waves form on lakes. 19-24 mph
6 Strong breeze. Large branches move; wires whistle; umbrellas are difficult to use. 25-31mph
7 Moderate gale. Whole trees are in motion; walking against the wind is difficult. 32-38 mph
8 Fresh gale. Twigs break from trees; walking against the wind is very difficult. 39-46 mph
9 Strong gale. Buildings suffer minimal damage; roof shingles are removed. 47-54 mph
10 Whole gale. Trees are uprooted. 55-63 mph
11 Violent storm. Widespread damage. 64-72 mph
12 Hurricane, widespread destruction. 73 mph and above
I’ve always been interested in the weather. I had a Weather Rock in Toto I used to use for weather forecasting, but I’ll save that story for another day.
The warm spring weather has turned Sophia into the Great Calico Hunter of Birds. The yard is now full of birds selecting nesting material. Sophia is offering her assistance and expertise in those matters. Sophia is a tree climber of extraordinary skills. She runs to the top of Maple Trees with the same grace as setting on the back of my chair.
She’s posted on her Facebook Page that she’s available for house calls on nesting consultation, and they talk ‘bout the wolf guarding the hen house.
Last week the worm turned, so to speak, in the East Wing. After hearing the cat break bad on the President for some time, the 2girldogs took matters in their own paws and put the cat in the trick box. Sophia was given a lesson in Chicago Style Politics, dog eat dog, so to speak.
The 2girdogs marched into the cat house, backed Sophia into a corner and then the Gray Lady, the most gentle creature of the East Wing said “ I’ve got something to say to you, you Limbaugh loving, Glen Beck suck up, Sara Palin protector, Tea Party joiner, you miserable pathetic piece of cat flesh. It’s cats like you that make the President’s job hard. I’m sick and tired of hearing from you loser cats. And you have the guts to call the President a piece of crap, then you’re a piece of worthless cat carp yourself, so there!”
Whereupon Mustina, the Pup Baby, jumped into the fray, and with all the protection afforded her by the company of her mother in the face of hostility, and with a grin from ear to ear, said “YAH !”
The Pup Baby’s command of the dog language is not the most extraordinary to say the least. Nobody ever said Pup Baby’s a Rocket Scientist. But she can bark in both Spanish and Italian. She’s trying to learn to bark in Chinese, but hasn’t got the yang of it yet.
Nighttime has come to the East Wing, this Easter Evening, 2010. I set in the darkness with light only from the screen, with all the 2girldogs asleep on their couches. Sophia in her usual place on the back of my chair. All the doors are open and the sounds of the spring nighttime have come inside the East Wing. I’m enjoying sounds I’ve not heard for some twenty years. The magic of my new digital hearing aids. I’d forgotten how much alive the spring nighttime is with the sound of fellows looking for a date.
Just when I thought I was done for the night, Sophia whispered in my ear, “damn democrats, always try to kill the messenger and never address the message. I’ll get those 2girldogs, just wait and see”.
Stay safe in Iraq and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, Early Birds, Lamb Cakes, The Winds of Time, The Gray Lady Attacks, Pup Baby Learning Chinese, The Nightlife of Springtime
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
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